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HIS MAJESTY'S WELL-BELOVED

CHAPTER I

How it all Began

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From Mr. John Honeywood, clerk to Mr. TheophilusBaggs, attorney-at-law, to MistressMary Saunderson, of the Duke's Theatre inLincoln's Inn Fields.

1662. October the 10th at 85, Chancery Lane inthe City of London. Honoured Mistress,—

May it please you that I, an humble Clerk andScrivener, do venture to address so talented a Lady;but there is that upon my Conscience which compelsme to write these lines. The Goodness and Charityof Mistress Saunderson are well known, and 'tis notas a Suppliant that I crave pardon for myPresumption, but rather as one whose fidelity andloyalty have oft been tried and never been foundwanting. 'Tis said, most gracious Mistress, that yourfancy hath been touched by the tenderness anddevotion of a Man who is as dear to me as if hewere mine own Brother, but that You hesitate tobestow upon him that for which he craves more thanfor anything in the world, your Hand and Heart.And this because of many Rumours which havesullied his fair Name. Mr. Betterton, Madam, hathmany enemies. How could this be otherwise seeingthat so vast a measure of Success hath attended hiscareer, and that the King's most gracious Majestydoth honour him with Friendship and Regard to theexclusion of others who are envious of so great afame? Those Enemies now, Madam, seeing thatyour Heart hath been touched with the man's graceand bearing, rather than with his undying Renown,have set themselves the task of blackeningMr. Betterton's character before your eyes, thus causingyou mayhap grievous Sorrow and Disappointment.But this I do swear by all that I hold most sacred,that Mr. Betterton hath never committed a meanAct in his life nor done aught to forfeit yourRegard. Caustic of wit he is, but neither aBraggart nor a Bully; he hath been credited with manygood Fortunes, but so hath every Gentleman in theKingdom, and there is no discredit attached to aman for subjugating the Hearts of those that areboth frail and fair. My Lady Castlemaine hathbestowed many favours on Mr. Betterton, so haththe Countess of Shrewsbury, and there are others,at least the Gossips do aver it. But on my Soul andHonour, he hath never ceased to love You, until theday when a certain great Lady came across his pathfor his misfortune and his undying Regret. Andeven so, Madam, though appearances are againsthim, I own, let me assure You that the swerving ofhis Allegiance to You was not only transitory butit was never one of the Heart—it was a mereaberration of the senses. He may never forget theLady—he certainly will never forget her Cruelty—but heno longer loves Her, never did love Her as he lovesYou, with his Heart and Mind, with Tenderness andDevotion. The other was only a Dream—a fitfulfancy: his Love for You is as immortal as hisFame. Therefore, gracious Mistress, I, the humbleFriend of so great a Man, have ventured to set forthfor your perusal that which he himself would betoo proud to put before you—namely, his Justification.As for the rest, what I am about to relateis the true Historie of Mr. Betterton's Romance, theonly one which might give you cause for sorrow,yet none for uneasiness, because that Romance isnow a thing of the past, like unto a Flower that isfaded and without fragrance, even though it still liespressed between the pages of a great man's Bookof Life. Everything else is mere Episode. But thiswhich I have here set down will show you how muchnobility of heart and grandeur of Character lieshidden beneath the flippant and at times grimexterior of the Man whom you have honoured withyour regard.

The writing of the Historie hath caused me muchanxiety and deep thought. I desired to present theTruth before you, and not the highly-colouredeffusions of a Partisan. I have slurred over nothing,concealed nothing. An you, gracious Mistress,have the patience to read unto the End, I amconfident that any Hesitation as to your Future whichmay still linger in your Heart will vanish with themore intimate Knowledge of the true Facts of thecase, as well as of the Man whose faults are of hisown Time and of his Entourage, but whose Meritsare for the whole World to know and to cherish, foras many Cycles of years as there will be Englishmento speak the Words of English Poets.

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Dare I take you back, honoured Mistress, to thosehumble days, five years ago, when first I entered theHousehold of your worthy Uncle, Mr. TheophilusBaggs, and of his still more worthy Spouse, MistressEuphrosine, where for a small—very small—stipend,and free board and lodging, I copied legaldocuments, Leases, Wills and Indentures for myEmployer?

You, fair Lady, were then the only ray ofSunshine which illumined the darkness of my drearyLife. Yours was a Gaiety which nothing coulddamp, a Courage and Vitality which not even thenagging disposition of Mistress Euphrosinesucceeded in crushing. And when, smarting under hermany Chidings, my stomach craving for a smallMeasure of satisfaction, my Bones aching from thehardness of my bed, I saw your slim Figure flitting,elf-like, from kitchen to living-room, your fullyoung Throat bursting with song like that of a Birdat the first scent of Spring, I would find my lot lesshard, the bread less sour, even Mistress Euphrosine'stongue less acrimonious. My poor, atrophied Heartfelt the warmth of your Smile.

Then sometimes, when my Work was done andmy Employers occupied with their own affairs, Youused to allow me to be of service to you, to helpyou wash the dishes which your dainty Handsshould never have been allowed to touch.

Oh! how I writhed when I heard MistressEuphrosine ordering You about as if You were akitchen-wench, rather than her husband's Niece,who was honouring his House with your presence!You, so exquisite, so perfect, so cultured, to be theHandmaid of a pair of sour, ill-conditionedReprobates who were not worthy to tie the lacets of yourdainty shoes. With what Joy I performed themenial tasks which never should have been allottedto You, I never until now have dared to tell. I didnot think that any Man could find dish-washing andfloor-scrubbing quite so enchanting. But then noother Man hath ever to my knowledge performedsuch tasks under such happy circumstances; withYou standing before me, smiling and laughing atmy clumsiness, your shapely arms akimbo, yourVoice now rippling into Song, now chaffing mewith Words full of kindness and good-humour.

I have known many happy Hours since that Day,Mistress, and many Hours full of Sorrow, but noneso full of pulsating Life as those which outwardlyhad seemed so miserable.

And then that wonderful afternoon whenMr. Theophilus Baggs and his Spouse being safely outof the way, we stole out together and spent a fewhours at the Play! Do you remember the day onwhich we ventured on the Escapade? Mr. Baggsand Mistress Euphrosine had gone to HamptonCourt: he to see a noble Client and she toaccompany him. The day being fine and the Client beinga Lady possessed of well-known charms, MistressEuphrosine would not have trusted her Lord alonein the company of such a forward Minx—at least,those were her Words, which she uttered in myhearing two Days before the memorable Expedition.

Memorable, indeed, it was to me!

Mr. Baggs left a sheaf of Documents for me tocopy, which would—he thought—keep me occupiedduring the whole course of a long Day. You too,fair Mistress, were to be kept busy during theworthy couple's absence, by scrubbing and polishingand sewing—Mistress Euphrosine holding allidleness in abhorrence.

I marvel if you remember it all!

I do, as if it had occurred yesterday! We satup half the Night previous to our Taskmasters'departure; you polishing and sewing, and I copyingaway for very life. You remember? Our jointSavings for the past six Months we had counted uptogether. They amounted to three shillings. Oneshilling we spent in oil for our lamps, so that wemight complete our Tasks during the Night. Thisleft us free for the great and glorious Purposewhich we had in our Minds and which we hadplanned and brooded over for Days and Weeks.

We meant to go to the Play!

It seems strange now, in view of your Renown,fair Mistress, and of mine own intimacy withMr. Betterton, that You and I had both reachedan age of Man and Womanhood without everhaving been to the Play. Yet You belonged fromchildhood to the household of Mistress EuphrosineBaggs, who is own sister to Mr. Betterton. Butthat worthy Woman abhorred the Stage and all thatpertained to it, and she blushed—aye, blushed!—atthought of the marvellous Fame attained by herillustrious Brother.

Do you remember confiding to me, less than amonth after I first entered the household ofMr. Baggs, that You were pining to go to the Play?You had seen Mr. Betterton once or twice when hecame to visit his Sister—which he did not do veryoften—but you had never actually been madeacquainted with him, nor had you ever seen him act.And You told me how handsome he was, and howdistinguished; and your dark Eyes would flash withenthusiasm at thought of the Actor's Art and ofthe Actor's Power.

I had never seen him at all in those Days, butI loved to hear about him. Strange what afascination the Stage exercised over so insignificantand so mean a creature as I!

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Will you ever forget the dawn of that gloriousDay, fair Mistress?

Mr. Baggs and his Spouse went off quite early,to catch the chaise at La Belle Sauvage which wouldtake them to Hampton Court. But however earlythey went, we thought them mighty slow in makinga start. An hundred Recommendations, Orderings,Scoldings, had to be gone through ere the respectableCouple, carrying provisions for the day in aBandana Handkerchief, finally got on the way.

It was a perfect Morning early in March, withthe first scent and feel of Spring in the air. Nota Cloud in the Sky. By Midday our tasks wereentirely accomplished and we were free! Free asthe Birds in the air, free as two 'prentices out fora holiday! But little did we eat, I remember. Wewere too excited for hunger; nor had MistressEuphrosine left much in the larder for us. Whatdid we care? Our Enthusiasm, our Eagerness, wereCook and Scullion for us, that day!

We were going to the Play!

Oh! how we tripped to Cockpit Lane, asking ourway from passers-by, for we knew so little ofLondon—fashionable London, that is; the Londonof Gaiety and Laughter, of careless Thoughts andwayward Moods. Holding hands, we hurriedthrough the Streets. You wore a dark Cape witha Hood to hide your pretty Face and your softbrown Hair, lest some Acquaintance of your Uncle'sshould chance to see You and betray our guiltysecret.

Do you remember how we met Mr. Rhodes, thebookseller, and friend of Mr. Baggs?—he to whomyoung Mr. Betterton was even then apprenticed.At the corner of Princes Street we came nose tonose with him, and but for great presence of mindon my part when, without an instant's hesitation, Iran straight at him and butted him in the Stomachso that he lost his Balance for the moment and onlyrecovered complete Consciousness after we haddisappeared round the corner of the Street, he nodoubt would have recognised us and betrayed ournaughty Secret.

Oh, what a fright we had! I can see You now,leaning, breathless and panting, against the streetcorner, your Hand pressed to your Bosom, yourEyes shining like Stars!

As for the rest, it is all confusion in my mind.The Crowd, the Bustle, the Noise, this greatAssembly, the like of which I had never seen before.I do not know how we came to our seats. All Iknow is that we were there, looking down upon themoving throng. I remember that some Worthy ofobvious note was sitting next to me, and wasperpetually treading upon my toes. But this I did notmind, for he was good enough to point out to methe various Notabilities amongst the Audience orupon the Stage; and I was greatly marvelled andawed by the wonderful familiarity with which hespoke of all these distinguished People.

"There sits General Monk. Brave old George!By gad! 'twere interesting to know what goes oninside that square Head of his! King or Protector,which is it to be? Or Protectorand King!George knows; and you mark my words, young Sir,George will be the one to decide. Old Noll is sick;he can't last long. And Master Richard hath notmuch affection for his Father's Friends—calls themReprobates and ungodly. Well! can you see Georgebeing rebuked by Master Richard for going to thePlay?"

And I, not being on such intimate terms with theLord Protector's Son or with General Monk, couldoffer no opinion on the subject. And after a whilemy Neighbour went on glibly:

"Ah! here comes my Lady Viner, flaunting silksand satins. Aye, the fair Alice—his third Wife,mark you!—knows how to spend the money whichher Lord hath been at such pains to scrape together.By gad! who'd have thought to see red-haired PollyAnn so soon after the demise of His Grace! See,not an inch of widows' Weeds doth she wear inhonour of the old Dotard who did her the infinitefavour of dying just in the nick of time...."

And so on, the Man would babble in a continuousstream of talk. You, Mistress, listened to himopen-mouthed, your great brown Eyes aglow withcuriosity and with excitement. You and I knewbut little of those great Folk, and seeing them allaround us, prepared for the same enjoyment whichwe had paid to obtain, made us quite intoxicatedwith eagerness.

Our Neighbour, who of a truth seemed to knoweverything, expressed great surprise at the fact thatOld Noll—as he so unceremoniously named theLord Protector—had tolerated the opening of theCockpit. "But," he added sententiously, "BillDavenant could wheedle a block of ice out of thedevil, if he chose."

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Of the Play I remember but little. I was in truthmuch too excited to take it all in. And sitting sonear You, Mistress—for the Place wasovercrowded—my Knee touching yours, your dear littlehand darting out from time to time to grip mineconvulsively during the more palpitating momentsof the Entertainment, was quite as much as anhumble Clerk's brain could hold.

There was a great deal of Music—that I doremember. Also that the entertainment was termedan opera and that the name of the piece was "TheCruelty of the Spaniards in Peru." My omniscientNeighbour told me presently that no doubt thePerformance was an artful piece of Flattery on the partof Bill (meaning, I suppose, Sir William Davenant)who, by blackening the Spaniards, made Old Noll'styranny appear like bountiful Mercies.

But I did not like to hear our Lord Protectorspoken of with such levity. Moreover, myNeighbour's incessant Chatter distracted me from theStage.

What I do remember more vividly than anythingelse on that memorable Day was your cry ofdelight when Mr. Betterton appeared upon theStage. I do not know if you had actually spokenwith him before; I certainly had never even seenhim. Mr. Betterton was then apprenticed toMr. Rhodes, the Bookseller, and it was entirely againstthe Judgment and Wishes of Mistress EuphrosineBaggs, his Sister, that he adopted the Stage as anadditional calling. I know that there were manyhigh Words on that subject between Mr. Bettertonand Mistress Euphrosine, Mr. Rhodes greatlysupporting the young Man in his Desire, he havingalready formulated schemes of his own for themanagement of a Theatre, and extolling the virtues ofthe Actor's Art and the vastly lucrative Statethereof.

But Mistress Euphrosine would have none of it.Actors were Rogues and Vagabonds, she said,ungodly Reprobates who were unfit, when dead, to beburied in consecrated ground. She would neverconsent to seeing a Brother of hers follow sodisreputable a Calling. From high words it came toan open Quarrel, and though I had been over a yearin the House of Mr. Theophilus Baggs, I had neveruntil this day set eyes on young Mr. Betterton.

He was not taking a very important part in theOpera, but there was no denying the fact that assoon as he appeared upon the Stage his veryPresence did throw every other Actor into the shade.The Ladies in the Boxes gave a deep sigh of content,gazing on him with admiring eyes and bestowingloud Applause upon his every Word. And whenMr. Betterton threw out his Arms with a gestureexpressive of a noble Passion and spoke the ringinglines: "And tell me then, ye Sons of England..."—hisbeautiful Voice rising and falling with theperfect cadence of an exquisite Harmony—the uproarof Enthusiasm became wellnigh deafening. TheLadies clapped their Hands and waved theirHandkerchiefs, the Gentlemen stamped their feet upon thefloor; and some, lifting their Hats, threw them witha flourish upon the Stage, so that anon Mr. Bettertonstood with a score or more Hats all round hisfeet, and was greatly perturbed as to how he shouldsort them out and restore them to their rightfulOwners.

Ah, it was a glorious Day! Nothing could marthe perfection of its Course. No! not even theRain which presently began to patter over theSpectators, and anon fell in torrents, so that those whowere in the Pit had to beat a precipitate retreat,scrambling helter-skelter over the Benches in a wildendeavour to get under cover.

This incident somewhat marred the Harmony ofthe Ending, because to see Ladies and Gentlemenstruggling and scrambling to climb from bench tobench under a Deluge of Rain, was in truth a verydroll Spectacle; and the attention of those in theBoxes was divided between the Happenings onthe Stage and the antics of the rest of the Audience.

You and I, fair Mistress, up aloft in our humbleplace, were far better sheltered than the more grandFolk in the Pit. I put your Cloak around yourShoulders to protect You against the Cold, and thussitting close together, my knee still resting againstyours, we watched the Performance until the end.

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How we went home that afternoon I do notremember. I know that it was raining heavily andthat we got very wet. But this caused me noInconvenience, because it gave me the privilege ofplacing my Arm round your Shoulders so as to keepyour Cloak from falling. Also my Mind was toofull of what I had seen to heed the paltrydiscomfort of a Wetting. My thoughts were of the Play,the Music, the brilliant Assembly; yours, Mistress,were of Mr. Betterton. Of him you prattled allthe way home, to the exclusion of every other Topic.And if your enthusiastic Eulogy of that talentedPerson did at times send a pang of Sorrow throughmy Heart, You at least were unaware of myTrouble. Not that I took no share in yourEnthusiasm. I did it whole-heartedly. Never had Iadmired a Man before as I did Mr. Betterton onthat Day. His Presence was commanding, his Facestriking, his Voice at times masterful and full ofPower, at others infinitely sweet. My officious andtalkative Neighbour, just before the Rain camedown and rendered him dumb, had remarked to mewith a great air of Knowledge and of Finality:"Mark my word, young Sir, England will hearsomething presently of Tommy Betterton."

It was not until we reached the corner ofChancery Lane that we were forced to descend to theRealities of Life. We had had a glorious Day, andfor many Hours had wholly forgotten the manyAnnoyances and Discomforts with which our liveswere beset. Now we were a little tired and exceedinglywet. Mistress Euphrosine's Scoldings, our oftempty stomachs, hard Beds and cheerless Livesloomed once more largely upon the Horizon of ourmental vision.

Our Pace began to slacken; your glib Tongue wasstilled. Holding Hands now, we hurried home insilence, our Minds stirred by a still vague Sense ofFear.

Nor was that Fear unjustified, alas! assubsequent Events proved. No sooner had We enteredthe House than We knew that We were discovered.Mr. Baggs' cloak, hung up in the Hall, revealed theterrifying Fact that he and his indomitable Spousehad unaccountably returned at this hour. No doubtthat the Weather was the primary cause of thisuntoward Event: its immediate result was a Volleyof abuse poured upon our Heads by MistressEuphrosine's eloquent Tongue. We wereReprobates, Spawns and Children of the Devil! We wereLiars and Cheats and Thieves! We had deservedGod's wrath and eternal punishment! Heavensabove! how she did talk! And we, alas! could notescape that vituperative Torrent.

We had fled into the Kitchen as soon as We hadrealised that we were fairly caught; but MistressEuphrosine had followed us thither and had closedthe door behind her. And now, standing facingUs, her large, gaunt Body barring every egress, shetalked and talked until You, fair Mistress, gave wayto a passionate Flood of tears.

All our Pleasure, our Joy, had vanished; drivenhence by the vixenish Tongue of a soured Harridan.I was beside myself with Rage. But for yourrestraining influence, I could have struck thatshrieking Virago, and for ever after have destroyed whatwas the very Essence of my Life. For she wouldhave turned me out of Doors then and there, and Ishould have been driven forth from your Presence,perhaps never to return.

The sight of your Patience and of your Goodnesshelped to deaden my Wrath. I hung my Headand bit my Tongue lest it should betray me intosaying things which I should have regretted to theend of my Days.

And thus that memorable Day came to a close.Somehow, it stands before my mind as would thefirst legible Page in the Book of my Life. Beforeit, everything was blurred; but that Page is clear.I can read it now, even after four years. For thefirst time, destiny had writ on it two Names in bold,indelible Characters—yours, Mistress, and that ofMr. Betterton. Henceforth, not a Day in my Lifewould pass without one of You looming largely inits Scheme.

Mary Saunderson! Tom Betterton! My verypulses seem to beat to the tune of those two Names!I knew then, by one of those subtle intuitions whichno Man has ever succeeded in comprehending, thatHeaven itself had intended You for one another.How then could I stand by and see the Wickednessof Man striving to interfere with the decrees of God?

CHAPTER II

THE RIFT WITHIN THE LUTE

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After that memorable Day, Mistress, we were likenaughty Children who were being punished forplaying truant out of School. For Weeks andMonths our Lives went on with dreary monotony,with never a chance of seeing Something of thatoutside World of which we had caught a glimpse.You continued to sew and to scrub and to be at thebeck and call of a Scold. I went on copying legalDocuments till my very Brain appeared atrophied,incapable of a single happy Thought or of a joyous Hope.

Out there in the great World, many things werehappening. The Lord Protector died; his Sonsucceeded. And then England woke to the fact thatshe had never cared for these Regicides, Republicansand Puritans; that in her Heart she had alwaysloved the martyred King and longed to set his Sononce more upon his Throne.

I often thought of my loquacious Neighbour atthe Play, with his talk of Old Noll and MasterRichard and of George. For George Monk intruth had become the Man of the hour; for he itwas who was bringing King Charles back into hisKingdom again.

Two years had gone by since our memorable Dayat the Play, and as that same Neighbour had alsoforetold, England was hearing a great deal aboutTom Betterton. His Name was on every one's lips.Mr. Rhodes, the Bookseller, had obtained a licencefrom General Monk to get a Company of Actorstogether, and the palmy Days of the Cockpit hadbegun. Then it was that some faint Echo of theLife of our great City penetrated as far as the dullPurlieus of Mr. Baggs' Household; then it was thatthe ring of the Fame of Mr. Betterton even causedMistress Euphrosine to recall her former arbitraryJudgments.

Every one now was talking of her illustriousBrother. General Monk himself had made a Friendof him, so had Sir John Grenville, who was theKing's own Envoy; and those who were in theknow prophesied that His Majesty Himself wouldpresently honour the eminent Player with hisregard. My Lord Rochester was his intimate Friend;Sir George Etherege was scarce ever seen in publicwithout him. Lord Broghill had vowed that theEnglish Stage was made famous throughout theContinent of Europe by the superlative excellence ofMr. Betterton.

To such Eulogies, coming from the most exaltedPersonages in the Land, Mistress Euphrosine couldnot turn an altogether deaf Ear; and being aWoman of character and ambition, she soon realisedthat her Antagonism to her illustrious Brother notonly rendered her ridiculous, but might even provea bar to Mr. Theophilus Baggs' Advancement.

The first Step towards a Reconciliation was takenwhen Mr. Baggs and his Spouse went together tothe Play to see Mr. Betterton actSolyman in a playcalled "The Siege of Rhodes." You and I,Mistress, were by great favour allowed to go too, andto take our places in that same Gallery where twoYears previously You and I had spent such happyhours. We spoke little to one another, I remember.Our hearts were full of Memories; but I could seeyour brown Eyes lighten as soon as the eminentActor walked upon the Stage. The same Glamourwhich his personality had thrown over You twoyears ago was still there. Nay! it was enhancedan hundredfold, for to the magnetic presence of theMan was now added the supreme Magic of theArtist. I am too humble a Scrivener, fair Lady,to attempt to describe Mr. Betterton's acting, nordo I think that such Art as his could be adequatelydiscussed. Your enjoyment of it I did fully share.You devoured him with your Eyes while he was onthe Stage, and the Charm of his Voice filled thecrowded Theatre and silenced every other sound.I knew that the World had ceased to exist for Youand that the mysterious and elusive god of Lovehad hit your Heart with his wayward dart.

I thank God that neither then nor later did anyfeeling of Bitterness enter into my Soul. Sad Iwas, but of a gentle Sadness which made me feelmine own Unworthiness, even whilst I prayed thatYou might realise your Heart's desire.

Strangely enough, it was at the very momentwhen I first understood the state of your Feelingsthat mine eyes, a little dimmed with tears, werearrested by the Sight of a young and beautiful Lady,who sat in one of the Boxes, not very far from ourpoint of vantage. I wondered then what it wasabout her that thus enchained mine Attention. Ofa truth, she was singularly fair, of that dainty andtranslucent Fairness which I for one have never beenable to admire, but which is wont to set Men's pulsesbeating with an added quickness—at least, so I'veheard it said. The Lady had blue Eyes, anexquisitely white Skin, her golden Hair was dressedin the new modish Fashion, with quaint littleRinglets all around her low, square Brow. The facewas that of a Child, yet there was something aboutthe firm Chin, something about the Foreheadand the set of the Lips which spoke ofCharacter and of Strength not often found in oneso young.

Immediately behind her sat a young Cavalier ofprepossessing Appearance, who obviously waswhispering pleasing Words in the Lady's shell-like ear.I confess that for the moment I longed for thepresence of our loquacious Neighbour of two years ago.He, without doubt, would have known who thenoble young Lady was and who was her attentiveCavalier. Soon, however, the progress of the Playonce more riveted mine Attention upon the Stage,and I forgot all about the beautiful Lady until itwas time to go. Then I sought her with mineEyes; but she had already gone. And I, whilstprivileged to arrange your Cloak around yourshoulders, realised how much more attractive brownHair was than fair, and how brilliant could be thesparkle of dark Eyes as against the morelanguorous expression of those that are blue.

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I was not present at the time that You, Mistress,first made the acquaintance of Mr. Betterton. Hecame to the House originally for the sole purposeof consulting with his Brother-in-law on a point ofLaw, he having an idea of joining Sir WilliamDavenant in the Management of the new Theatrewhich that Gentleman was about to open inLincoln's Inn Fields.

The season in London promised to be verybrilliant. His Majesty the King was coming into hisown once more. Within a Month or two at thelatest, he would land at Dover, and as even throughhis misfortunes and exile he had always been agreat Patron of the Arts of Drama and Literature,there was no doubt that he would give his graciousPatronage to such enterprises as Sir WilliamDavenant and Mr. Killigrew, not to mention others, hadalready in view.

No doubt that Sir William Davenant felt that noCompany of Actors could be really completewithout the leadership of Mr. Betterton; and we allknew that both he and Mr. Killigrew were literallyfighting one another to obtain the great Actor'sservices.

In the end, of course, it was Sir William whowon, and thus Mr. Betterton came to visitMr. Theophilus Baggs to arrange for an Indenturewhereby he was to have a Share of the Profitsderived from the Performances at the new Theatrein Lincoln's Inn Fields.

You, Mistress, will remember that Day evenbetter than I do, for to me it only marked one moreStage on the dreary road of my uneventful Life,whilst for You it meant the first Pearl in thatjewelled Crown of Happiness which Destiny hathfashioned for You. Mr. Baggs had sent me on thatday to Richmond, to see a Client of his there.Whether he did this purposely, at the instance ofMistress Euphrosine, in order to get me out of theway, I know not. In her Estimation I was supposedto have leanings for the Actor's profession in thosedays—surely a foolish Supposition, seeing howunprepossessing was my Appearance and howmediocre my Intellect.

Without doubt, however, could she have read theSecrets of your Soul, dear Mistress, she would havesent You on an errand too, to a remote corner ofEngland, or had locked You up in your Room, ereyou came face to face with the great Man whosePersonality and Visage were already deeply gravenupon your Heart.

But her futile, unamiable Mind was even thentorn between the desire to make a brave show ofProsperity before her illustrious Brother and towelcome him as the Friend and Companion of greatGentlemen, and the old puritanical Spirit within herwhich still looked upon Actors as Rogues andVagabonds, Men upon whom God would shower somevery special, altogether terrible Curses because oftheir loose and immoral Lives.

Thus Mistress Euphrosine's treatment of thedistinguished Actor was ever contradictory. She didher best to make him feel that she despised him forhis Calling, yet nevertheless she fawned upon himbecause of his connection with the Aristocracy.Even subsequently, when Mr. Betterton enjoyed notonly the Patronage but the actual Friendship of HisMajesty the King, Mistress Euphrosine's attitudetowards him was always one of pious scorn. Hemight be enjoying the protection of an earthly King,but what was that in comparison with his Sister'sintimacy with God? He might consort with Dukes,but she would anon make one in a company ofAngels, amongst whom such Reprobates as Actorswould never find a place.

That, I think, was her chief Attitude of Mind,one that caused me much Indignation at the time;for I felt that I could have knelt down andworshipped the heaven-born Genius who was delightingthe whole Kingdom with his Art. But Mr. Betterton,with his habitual kindliness and good humour,paid no heed to Mistress Euphrosine's sour Dispositiontowards him, and when she tried to wither himwith lofty Speeches, he would quickly make herridiculous with witty Repartee.

He came more and more frequently to the House,and mine Eyes being unusually sharp in suchmatters, I soon saw that You had wholly won hisregard. Those then became happy times. Happy onesfor You, Mistress, whose Love for a great and goodMan was finding full Reciprocity. Happy ones forhim, who in You had found not only a loving Heart,but rare understanding, and that great Talent whichhe then and there set himself to develop. They werehappy times also for me, the poor, obscure Scrivenerwith the starved Heart and the dreary Life, whonow was allowed to warm his Soul in the Sunshineof your joint Happiness.

It was not long before Mr. Betterton noticed theprofound Admiration which I had for him, not longbefore he admitted me to his Friendship andIntimacy. I say it with utmost pride, that I was thefirst one with whom he discussed the question ofyour Career and to whom he confided the fact thatYou had a conspicuous talent for the Stage, andthat he intended to teach and to train You until Youcould appear with him on the Boards. You mayimagine how this Idea staggered me at first—aye! andhorrified me a little. I suppose that somethingof the old puritanical middle-class Prejudice hadeaten so deeply into my Soul that I could not bereconciled to the idea of seeing any Woman—leastof all you, Mistress—acting a part upon the Stage.Hitherto, young Mr. Kynaston and otherboy-actors had represented with perfect grace and charmall the parts which have been written for Women;and I could not picture to myself any respectableFemale allowing herself to be kissed or embracedin full view of a large Audience, or speaking someof those Lines which our great Dramatists havethought proper to write.

But Mr. Betterton's Influence and his unanswerableArguments soon got the better of thoseold-fashioned Ideas, and anon I found myself lookingeagerly forward to the happy time when You wouldbe freed from the trammels of Mistress Euphrosine'sTyranny and, as the Wife and Helpmate ofthe greatest Actor of our times, take your placebeside him among the Immortals.

3

It was not until the spring of the following Yearthat I first noticed the cloud which was gatheringover your happiness. Never shall I forget the daywhen first I saw Tears in your Eyes.

You had finally decided by then to adopt the Stageas your Profession, and at the instance of Mr. Betterton,Sir William Davenant had promised You asmall part in the new Play, wherewith he was aboutto open his new Theatre in Lincoln's Inn Fields.The piece chosen was called "Othello," written byone William Shakespeare, and Sir William hadfinally decided that the parts written in this Play bythe Author for Women should be enacted byWomen; an arrangement which was even thenbeing worked quite successfully by Mr. Killigrew athis Theatre in Clare Market.

I knew that a brilliant Future lay before You;but Mistress Euphrosine, who had constitutedherself your Guardian and Mentor, tried in vain to turnYou from your Career. The day when You madeyour Decision was yet another of those momentousones which will never fade from my Memory. Youhad hitherto been clever enough to evade MistressEuphrosine's Vigilance whilst you studied the Artof speaking and acting under the guidance ofMr. Betterton. She thought that his frequent Visits tothe House were due to his Regard for her, whereashe came only to see You and to be of service to Youin the pursuit of your Studies.

But the time came when You had to avow openlywhat were your Intentions with regard to theFuture. Sir William Davenant's Theatre in Lincoln'sInn Fields was to be opened in June, and You,Mistress, were, together with his principal Actresses, tobe boarded after that by him at his own House, inaccordance with one of the Provisions of theAgreement. The Question arose as to where You shouldlodge, your poor Mother having no home to offerYou. Mistress Euphrosine made a great Show ofher Abhorrence of the Stage and all the Immoralitywhich such a Career implied. My cheeks blush withshame even now at the recollection of theabominable language which she used when first You toldher what You meant to do, and my Heart is stillfilled with admiration at your Patience andForbearance with her under such trying circumstances.

Fortunately for us all, Mr. Betterton arrived inthe midst of all this wrangle. He soon succeededin silencing Mistress Euphrosine's exacerbatingtongue, and this not so much by the magic of hisPersuasion as by the aid of the golden Key whichis known to open every door—even that which leadsto a scolding Harridan's heart. Mr. Bettertonoffered his Sister a substantial Sum of Money ifshe in return would undertake to give You acomfortable lodging until such time as he himself wouldclaim You as his Wife. He stipulated that Youshould be made comfortable and that no kind ofmenial work should ever be put upon You.

"Mistress Saunderson," he said impressively,"must be left absolutely free to pursue her Art,unhampered by any other consideration."

Even so, Mistress Euphrosine could not restrainher malicious tongue, and the whole equitablearrangement might even then have fallen through butfor your gentleness and quiet determination.Finally, Mistress Euphrosine gave in. She acceptedthe liberal terms which her illustrious Brother wasoffering her for your Maintenance, but she reservedunto herself the right of terminating the Arrangementat her will and pleasure. Obviously, she meantto be as disagreeable as she chose; but You had tohave a respectable roof over your head until suchtime as You found a Haven under the ægis of yourfuture Husband's Name.

After that, it seemed as if no cloud could evercome to obscure the Heavens of your happiness.Nevertheless, it was very soon after that Episodethat I chanced upon You one evening, sitting in theparlour with the Book of a Play before You, yetapparently not intent upon reading. When I spokeyour name You started as if out of a Dream andquickly You put your handkerchief up to your eyes.

I made no remark then; it would have beeninsolence on my part to intrude upon your privateAffairs. But I felt like some faithful cur on thewatch.

For awhile dust was thrown in my eyes from thefact that Mr. Betterton announced to us hisprojected trip abroad, at the instance of Sir WilliamDavenant, who desired him to study the Sceneryand Decorations which it seems were notedAdjuncts to the Stage over in Paris. If Mr. Bettertonapproved of what he saw there, he was to bringback with him a scheme for such Scenery to beintroduced at the new Theatre in Lincoln's InnFields, which would be a great triumph overMr. Killigrew's Management, where no such innovationshad ever been thought of.

Naturally, Mr. Betterton, being a Man and anArtist, was eager and excited over this journey,which showed what great confidence Sir WilliamDavenant reposed in his Judgment. This,methought, accounted for the fact that You, Mistress,seemed so much more dejected at the prospect ofhis Absence than he was. I also was satisfied thatthis Absence accounted for your tears.

Fool that I was! I should have guessed!

Mr. Betterton was absent two months, duringwhich time I oft chanced upon You, dear Mistress,with a book lying unheeded on your lap and yourdark eyes glistening with unnatural brilliancy. ButI still believed that it was only Mr. Betterton'sAbsence that caused this sadness which had of latefallen over your Spirits. I know that he did notwrite often, and I saw—oh! quite involuntarily—thatwhen his Letters came they were unaccountably short.

Then, one day—it was in May—seeing You morethan usually depressed, I suggested that as theweather was so fine we should repair to the Theatrein Clare Market, and there see Mr. Killigrew'scompany enact "The Beggar's Bush," a play in whichMajor Mohun was acting the part ofBellamentewith considerable success.

Had I but known what we were destined to seein that Theatre, I swear to God that I would soonerhave hacked off my right leg than to have takenYou thither. Yet We both started on our way,oblivious of what lay before Us. Time had longsince gone by when such expeditions had to be donein secret. You, Mistress, were independent ofMistress Euphrosine's threats and tantrums, and I hadcome to realise that my Employer could nowhereelse in the whole City find a Clerk who would doso much for such very scanty pay, and that he wouldnever dismiss me, for fear that he would never againmeet with such a willing Drudge.

So, the day being one on which Mr. Baggs andMistress Euphrosine were absenting themselvesfrom home, I persuaded You easily enough to comewith me to the Play.

Your spirits had risen of late because you wereexpecting Mr. Betterton's home-coming. In fact,You had received authentic news that he wouldprobably be back in England within the week.

4

At once, when I took my seat in the Gallerybeside you, I noticed the beautiful fair Lady in theBox, whom I had not seen since that marvellousday a year ago, when you and I sat together at thePlay. She was more radiantly beautiful than everbefore.

Discreet enquiries from my Neighbour elicitedthe information that she was the Lady BarbaraWychwoode, daughter of the Marquis of Sidbury,and the acknowledged Belle among the Debutantesof the season. I understood that nothing had beenseen of the Lady for the past year or more, owingto the grave and lingering illness of her Mother,during the whole course of which the young Girlhad given up her entire life to the tending of theInvalid.

Now that his Lordship was a Widower, he hadinsisted on bringing his Daughter to London sothat she might be brought to the notice of HisMajesty and take her place at Court and in Society,as it beseemed her rank. That place the LadyBarbara conquered quickly enough, by her Beauty, herCharm and her Wit, so much so that I was told thatall the young Gallants in the City were more or lessover head and ears in love with her, but that heraffections had remained steadfastly true to thefriend and companion of her girlhood, the youngEarl of Stour who, in his turn had never swervedin his Allegiance and had patiently waited for theday when her duty to her Mother would cease andher love for him be allowed to have full sway.

All this, of course, sounded very pretty and veryromantic; and you, Mistress, gave ungrudgingadmiration to the beautiful girl who was the cynosureof all eyes. She sat in the Box, in the company ofan elderly and distinguished Gentleman, who wasobviously her Father, and of another Man, whoappeared to be a year or two older than herself andwhose likeness of features to her own proclaimedhim to be her Brother. At the rear of the box anumber of brilliant Cavaliers had congregated, whohad obviously come in order to pay court to thisacknowledged Queen of Beauty. Foremost amongthese we noticed a tall, handsome young Man whosenoble features looked to me to suggest a somewhatweak yet obstinate disposition. He was undeniablyhandsome: the huge, fair periwig which he worelent a certain manly dignity to his countenance. Wequickly came to the conclusion that this must be theEarl of Stour, for it was obvious that the LadyBarbara reserved her most welcoming smile and herkindliest glances for him.

The company in the Box kept us vastly amusedfor a time, in the intervals of watching the Actorson the Stage; and I remember that during thesecond Act the dialogue in the Play being somewhatdull, both You and I fell to watching the LadyBarbara and her throng of Admirers. Suddenly wenoticed that all these Gentlemen gave way as if to aNew-comer who had just entered at the rear of theBox and was apparently desirous of comingforward in order to pay his respects. At first we couldnot see who the New-comer was, nor did we greatlycare. The next moment, however, he was behindthe Lady Barbara's chair. Anon he stoopedforward in order to whisper something in her ear.

And I saw who it was.

It was Mr. Betterton.

For the moment, I remember that I felt as if Iwere paralysed; either that or crazed. I could nottrust mine eyes.

Then I turned my head and looked at You.

You too had seen and recognised. For themoment You did not move, but sat rigid and silent.Your face had become a shade or two paler andthere was a scarce perceptible tremor of your lips.

But that was all. I alone knew that You hadjust received a stab in your loving and trustingHeart, that something had occurred which wouldfor ever mar the perfect trustfulness of your earlylove ... something which you would never forget.

5

You sat out the rest of the Play, dear Mistress,outwardly quite serene. Never, I think, has myadmiration for your Character and for your Worthbeen more profound. I believe that I sufferedalmost as much as You. I suffered because manythings were made clear to me then that I had ignoredbefore. Your tears, your many Silences, that lookof trustful happiness now gone from your eyes. Iunderstood that the Incident was only theconfirmation of what you had suspected long since.

But you would not let any one see your heart.No! not even me, your devoted Bondsman, whowould gladly die to save You from pain. Yet Icould not bring my heart to condemn Mr. Bettertonutterly. I did not believe even then that he hadbeen unfaithful—led away no doubt by the glamourof the society Beauty, by the talk and the swaggerof all the idle Gentlemen about town—but notunfaithful. His was not a Nature to love more thanthe once, and he loved You, Mistress—loved Youfrom the moment that he set eyes on You, fromthe moment that he knew your Worth. His fancyhad perhaps been captured by the beautiful LadyBarbara, his Heart wherein your image waseternally enshrined, had been momentarilybewitched by her wiles; but he was not responsible forthese Actions—that I could have sworn even then.

Mr. Betterton is above all an Artist, and in myhumble judgment Artists are not to be measuredby ordinary standards. Their mind is more fanciful,their fancy more roving; they are the Butterfliesof this World, gay to look at and light on the wing.

You never told me, Mistress, what course Youadopted after that eventful afternoon; nor would Ihave ventured to pry into your secrets. That Youand Mr. Betterton talked the whole matter over, Imake no doubt. I could even tell You, methinks,on which day the heart to heart talk between Youtook place. That there were no Recriminations onyour part I dare aver; also that Mr. Bettertonreceived his final dismissal on that day with a greaterrespect than ever for You in his Heart, and withdeep sorrow weighing upon his Soul.

After that, his visits to the house became moreand more infrequent; and at first You wouldcontrive to be absent when he came. But, as I havealways maintained, his love for You still filled hisinnermost Being, even though the Lady Barbararuled over his fancy for the time. He longed foryour Presence and for your Friendship, eventhough at that time he believed that You had totallyerased his image from your Heart.

And so, when he came, and I had perforce totell him that You were absent, he would linger onin the hope that You would return, and he wouldgo away with a bitter sigh of regret whenever hehad failed to catch a glimpse of You.

You never told me in so many Words that youhad definitely broken off your Engagement toMr. Betterton, nor do I believe that such was yourintention even then. Mistress Euphrosine certainlynever realised that You were smarting under soterrible a blow, and she still spoke glibly of yourforthcoming marriage.

It was indeed fortunate for You, fortunate for usall, that both she and Mr. Baggs were tooself-absorbed—he in his Business and she in her Piety—andtoo selfish, to be aware of what went on aroundthem. Their self-absorption left You free toindulge in the luxury of suffering in silence; and Iwas made almost happy at times by an occasionalsurreptitious pressure of your Hand, a glance fromyour Eyes, telling me that my Understanding andSympathy were not wholly unwelcome.

CHAPTER III

A CRIMINAL FOLLY

1

In June, you made your debut upon the stage,dear Mistress. Though You only played a smallPart, your Grace and Charm soon won universalapproval. I have so often told You of my feelings,my hopes, my tremors and my joy on the occasionwhen first I saw You upon the boards, that I willnot weary You with the re-telling of them onceagain. Securely hidden behind a pillar, I only livedthrough the super-acuteness of my Senses, whichdrank in your Presence from the moment when Youstepped out from behind the Curtain and revealedyour gracious personality to an admiring Audience.

As long as I live, every word which You spokeon that day will continue to ring in mine ear, andere mine eyes close for ever in their last long Sleep,I shall see your exquisite Image floating dreamlikebefore their gaze.

2

From that day onward, I saw you more seldomthan I had been wont to do before. Your Successat the new Theatre had been so pronounced thatSir William Davenant soon entrusted You withmore important parts. Thus your time was greatlytaken up both with Performances and withRehearsals and with the choosing and trying on ofdresses. Of necessity, your work threw you oftenin the company of Mr. Betterton, he being theleading Actor in Sir William's Company, and the mostpopular as he was the most eminent of HisMajesty's Well-Beloved Servants. In fact, hisFame at this time was reaching its Apogee. Hewas reckoned one of the Intimates of His Majestyhimself; Gentlemen and Noblemen sought hiscompany; great Ladies were zealous to win his favours.

Needless to say that concurrently with his rise topre-eminence, an army of Enemies sprung uparound him. Hungry curs will ever bay at themoon. Set a cat upon a high post and in a momentothers will congregate down below and spit andyowl at their more fortunate kind. Scandal andspite, which had never been so rife as in these days,fastened themselves like evil tentacles on Mr. Betterton'sfair Name.

He was too proud to combat these, and You tooproud to lend an ear to them. You met him nowupon an easy footing of Friendship, of gentlegratitude as of a successful Pupil towards a kindlyTeacher. To any one who did not know You as Ido, You must at that time have seemed completelyhappy. You were independent now, earning a goodsalary, paying Mistress Euphrosine liberally for thelodgings which she placed at your disposal; free tocome and go as You pleased, to receive the visits ofGentlemen who were desirous of paying theirrespects to You. You were, in fact, MistressSaunderson, the well-known Actress, who was busyclimbing—and swiftly, too—the Ladder of Fame.

Of your proposed Marriage with Mr. Bettertonthere was of course no longer any talk. For somereason best known to herself, and which I myselfnever tried to fathom, even Mistress Euphrosinehad ceased to speak of it.

Did she, within the depths of her ambitious andavaricious Heart, harbour the belief that herBrother would one day wed one of those greatLadies, who were wont to hang entranced upon hislips, when he spoke the immortal words of the lateMr. William Shakespeare or of Mr. John Dryden?I know not; nor what benefit she would havederived from it if such an unlikely Event had indeedtaken place.

Towards me, she was still frigidly contemptuous.But as to that, I did not care. I was determined toendure her worst gibes for the sake of dwellingunder the same roof which still had the privilegeof sheltering You.

3

It was one day early in September—just somethingover a year ago, in fact—that my Lord Stourcalled at the house of Mr. Theophilus Baggs. Iknew him at once for the Cavalier who was ever inattendance upon the Lady Barbara Wychwoode andwhom rumour had assigned to her as her future Husband.

Frankly, I had never liked him from the first.I thought him overbearing and arrogant. Hismanner towards those who were inferior to him instation was always one of contempt. And I oftenwondered how Mr. Theophilus Baggs, who was anAttorney of some standing in the City of London,could endure the cool insolence wherewith youngGentlemen like my Lord Stour and others werewont to treat him. Not only that, but he seemedto derive a sort of gratification from it, and waswont to repeat—I was almost going to say that hewould boast of—these acts of overbearance to whichhe was so often subjected.

"Another of the stiff-necked sort," he would sayafter he had bowed one of these fine Gentlemenobsequiously out of his office. "An honest,God-fearing Man is as dirt beneath the feet of theseGallants."

My Lord Stour, of a truth, was no exception tothe rule. I have since been assured that he wasquite kindly and gracious in himself, and that hisfaults were those of the Milieu in which he hadbeen brought up, rather than of himself.

Of course, You, dear Mistress, were out of thehouse during the whole of that never-to-be-forgottenday of which I am about to speak, andtherefore knew nothing of the terrible Event whichthen occurred and which, in my humble judgment,completely revolutionized Mr. Betterton's characterfor the time being. But Fate had decreed thatI should see it all. Every moment of that awfulafternoon is indelibly graven upon my Memory. Ihad, however, neither the Chance nor the Opportunityto speak to You of it all. At first I did notthink that it would be expedient. The humiliationwhich Mr. Betterton was made to endure on thatday was such that I could not bear to speak of it,least of all to You, who still held him in such highesteem. And later on, I still thought it best to besilent. Mr. Betterton and You seemed to havedrifted apart so completely, that I did not feel thatit would do any good to rake up old hurts, and tosubmit them to the cruel light of day.

But now everything is changed. The LadyBarbara's influence over Mr. Betterton has gone,never to return; whilst his Heart once more yearnsfor the only true Love which has ever gladdened it.

4

My Lord Stour came to call upon Mr. TheophilusBaggs at three o'clock of the afternoon. Kathleen,the maid of all work, opened the door to him, andMistress Euphrosine received him in the Parlour,where I was also sitting at my desk, engaged incopying out a lengthy Indenture.

"Master Baggs awaits me, I think," my Lordsaid as he entered the room.

Mistress Euphrosine made a deep curtsey, for shewas ever fond of the Aristocracy.

"Will you deign to enter, my Lord?" she said."My husband will wait upon your pleasure."

"Tell him to be quick, then," said my Lord; "forI have not a great deal of time to spare."

He seated himself beside the table and drew offhis gloves. He had taken absolutely no notice ofmy respectful salutation.

Mistress Euphrosine sailed out of the room anda moment or two later Mr. Baggs came in, carryinga sheaf of papers and looking very fussy andobsequious.

My Lord did not rise to greet him, only turnedhis head in his direction and said curtly:

"You are Mr. Theophilus Baggs, Attorney-at-law?"

"At your Lordship's service," replied my employer.

"Brother-in-law of Tom Betterton, the Actor, soI am told," my Lord went on with quiet condescension.

This innocent remark, however, appeared to upsetMr. Baggs. He stammered and grew as red as aturkey-cock, not realizing that his connection withthe great Actor was truly an honour upon his Name.He hemmed and hawed and looked unutterablyfoolish, as he mumbled confusedly:

"Er ... that is ... only occasionally, myLord ... very occasionally, I may say... that is ... I..."

"Pray calm yourself," broke in my Lordhaughtily. "I admire the fellow's acting ... theMan himself does not exist for me."

"You are most gracious, my Lord," murmuredMr. Baggs promptly, whilst I could have struckhim for his obsequiousness and his Lordship for hisarrogance.

It seems that the matter which had brought LordStour to Mr. Baggs' office was one of moniesconnected with the winding-up of the affairs of thelate Earl, uncle of the present Peer. I was busywith my work during the time that these affairswere being discussed and did not pay much heed tothe conversation. Only two fragments thereofstruck mine ear. I remember, chiefly because theywere so characteristic of the two men—the Aristocratand the Plebeian—and of the times in which we live.

At one time Mr. Baggs ventured to enquire afterthe health of the Honourable Mrs. Stourcliffe, hisLordship's mother; and you should have heard thetone of frigid pride wherewith my Lord seemed torepel any such presumptuous enquiries.

The other fragment which I overheard wastowards the end of the interview, when Mr. TheophilusBaggs, having counted over the Money beforehis Lordship, placed a Paper before him andbade me bring him a pen.

"What's this?" queried my Lord, astonished.

"Oh!" Mr. Baggs stammered, with his habitualhumility of demeanour, "a mere formality, myLord ... er ... h'm ... only a ... er... receipt."

"A receipt?" my Lord asked, with an elevationof his aristocratic brows. "What for?"

"Er ... er..." Mr. Baggs stammered."For the monies, my Lord. That is ... er... if you will deign to count it over yourself... and see that it is correct."

At this, my Lord rose from his seat, waved measide, took and pocketed the money. Then he saidcoolly to Mr. Baggs:

"No, Sir; I do not care to count. My Uncleknew You to be honest, or he would not have placedhis affairs in your hands. That is sufficient forme. I, on the other hand, have received the money....That is sufficient for You."

"But——!" ejaculated Mr. Baggs, driven out ofhis timidity by such summary procedure.

"Egad, Sir!" broke in my Lord, more haughtilythan before. "Are you perchance supposing that Imight claim money which I have already had?"

"No ... no!" protested Mr. Baggs hastily."I assure you, my Lord ... er ... that it is... h'm ... a mere formality ... and..."

"My word," retorted my Lord coolly, "issufficient formality."

Whereupon he turned to the door, taking no morenotice of me than if I were the doormat. Henodded to Mr. Baggs, who was of a truth too deeplyshaken to speak, and with a curt "I wish yougood-day, Mr. Notary!" strode out of the room.

I doubt not, Mistress, that You and many othersof gentle Manners if not of gentle Birth, wouldthink that in recounting this brief interview betweenmy employer and the young Earl of Stour, I havebeen guilty of exaggeration in depicting my Lord'sarrogance. Yet, on my word, it all occurred justas I have told it. No doubt that Mr. Baggs'obsequiousness must have been irritating, and that itliterally called forth the haughty Retort whichotherwise might have remained unspoken. Imyself, humble and insignificant as I am, have oft feltan almost uncontrollable impulse to kick my worthyEmployer into some measure of manliness.

For let me assure You that, though subsequentlyI became more closely acquainted with my LordStour, I never heard him use such haughtylanguage to any of his Dependents, nor do I think thatso gentle a Lady as Lady Barbara Wychwoodewould have bestowed her fondness and regard uponhim had his Nature been as supercilious and asinsolent as his Words.

5

That afternoon was indeed destined to be fullerof events than I ever could have anticipated. Nosooner had I closed the door upon my Lord Stour,when I heard footsteps ascending the stairs, andthen my Lord's voice raised once more, this timewith a tone of pleasure mingled with astonishment.

"Wychwoode, by gad!" he exclaimed. "Andwhat in Heaven's name have you come to do inthe old fox's lair?"

I did not hear the immediate reply. More fussythan ever, Mr. Baggs had already signed to me toreopen the door.

"Lord Douglas Wychwoode," he murmuredhurriedly in my ear. "One of the younger sons of theMarquis of Sidbury. I am indeed fortunate to-day.The scions of our great Nobility do seek my helpand counsel..." and more such senseless wordsdid he utter, whilst the two young Gentlemen pausedfor a moment upon the landing, talking with oneanother.

"I thought you still in France," Lord Douglassaid to his friend. "What hath brought you homeso unexpectedly?"

"I only arrived this morning," the other replied;"and hoped to present my respects this evening, ifyour Father and the Lady Barbara will receive me."

"Indeed, they'll be delighted.Cela va sans dire,my friend. My sister has been rather pensive oflate. Your prolonged absence may have hadsomething to do with her mood."

"May you speak the truth there!" my Lord Stourremarked with a sigh.

"But now you have not told me," rejoined LordDouglas, as he and his friend finally went into theroom and curtly acknowledged Mr. Baggs' reiteratedsalutations, "what hath brought you to the houseof this bobbing old Thief yonder."

"Private business," replied Lord Stour. "And you?"

"The affairs of England," said the other, andtossed his head proudly like some young Lionscenting battle.

Before his friend could utter another remark,Lord Douglas strode rapidly across the room, tooksome papers out of the inner pocket of his coat,and called to Mr. Baggs to come up closer to him.

"I want," he said in a quick and peremptorywhisper, "a dozen copies of this Deed done at onceand by a sure hand. Can you do it?"

"Yes, I think so," replied Mr. Baggs. "May Isee what the paper is?"

I was watching the pair of them; so was my LordStour. On his face there came a sudden frown asof disapproval and anxiety.

"Wychwoode——!" he began.

But the other did not heed him. His eyes—whichwere so like those of his Sister—were fixed with aneager, questioning gaze upon my Employer. Thelatter's face was absolutely expressionless andinscrutable whilst he scanned the paper which LordDouglas, after a scarce perceptible moment ofhesitation, had handed to him for perusal.

"Yes," he said quietly, when he had finished reading."It can be done."

"At once?" asked Lord Douglas.

"At once. Yes, my Lord."

"By a sure hand?"

"Discretion, my Lord," replied Mr. Baggs, withthe first show of dignity I have ever seen himdisplay, "is a virtue in my profession, the failing inwhich would be a lasting disgrace."

"I rely even more upon your convictions,Mr. Baggs," Lord Douglas rejoined earnestly, "thanupon your virtues."

"You and your friends, my Lord, have deignedto talk those matters over with me many a timebefore. You and they know that You can count on me."

Mr. Baggs spoke with more Quietude andSimplicity than was his wont when dealing with someof these noble Lords. You may be sure, dearMistress, that I was vastly astonished at what I heard,still more at what I guessed. That Mr. Baggs andhis Spouse belonged to the old Puritan Party whichhad deplored the Restoration of the Kingship, Iknew well enough. I knew that both he andMistress Euphresine looked with feelings akin to horrorupon a system of Government which had for itssupreme head a King, more than half addicted toPopery and wholly to fast living, with women,gambling and drinking all the day. But what I hadnever even remotely guessed until now was that hehad already lent a helping hand to those numerousOrganisations, which had for their object theoverthrow of the present loose form of Government, ifnot that of the Monarchy itself.

I did not know, in fact, that beneath a weak andobsequious exterior, my Employer hid the stuff ofwhich dangerous Conspirators are often made.

For the nonce, however, I imagine that hecontented himself with writing out Deeds andProclamations for the more important Malcontents, ofwhom apparently my Lord Douglas Wychwoodewas one. He had never taken me into hisconfidence, even though he must have known that hecould always rely upon my Discretion. Whatcaused him to trust me now more than he haddone before, I do not know. Perhaps he hadcome to a final decision to throw in his lot with theultra-Protestant party, who viewed with suchmarked disfavour the projects of the King'smarriage with the Popish Princess of Portugal.Certain it is that he came to me without any hesitationwith the Papers which Lord Douglas had justentrusted to him, and that he at once ordered me tomake the twelve copies which his Lordship desired.

I retired within the window-recess which Youknow so well, and wherein I am wont to sit at mycopying work. Mr. Baggs then set me to my task,after which he drew the screen across the recess,so that I remained hidden from the view of thosewho were still in the room. I set to with a Will, formy task was a heavy one. Twelve copies of aManifesto, which in itself covered two long pages.

A Manifesto, in truth!

I could scarce believe mine eyes as I read thewhole rambling, foolish, hot-headed Rigmarole.Did I not have the Paper actually in my hand, hadI not seen Lord Douglas Wychwoode handing ithimself over to Mr. Baggs, I could not have believedthat any Men in their sober senses could have lenta hand to such criminal Folly.

Folly it was; and criminal to boot!

The whole matter is past History now, and therecan be no harm in my relating it when so much ofit hath long ago been made public.

That Manifesto was nothing more or less than anAppeal to certain Sympathizers to join in one of themaddest enterprises any man could conceive. Itseems that my Lady Castlemaine's house was to bekept watched by Parties of these same Conspirators,until one night when the King paid her one of hiscustomary evening Visits. Then the signal was tobe given, the House surrounded, my LadyCastlemaine kidnapped, His Majesty seized and forced toabdicate in favour of the young Duke of Monmouth,who would then be proclaimed King of England,with the Prince of Orange as Regent.

Now, have you ever heard of anything moremad? I assure You that I was literally staggered,and as my Pen went wearily scratching over thePaper I felt as if I were in a dream, seeing beforeme visions of what the end of such a foolishScheme would be: the Hangman busy, the Prisonsfilled, sorrow and desolation in many homes thathad hoped to find peace at last after the turmoil ofthe past twenty years. For the appeals weredirected to well accredited people outside London,some of whom were connected with the best knownFamilies in the Country. I must, of course, refrainfrom mentioning names that have been allowed tofall into oblivion in connection with the affair; butYou, dear Mistress, would indeed be astonished ifYou heard them now.

And what caused me so much worry, whilst Iwrote on till my hand felt cramped and stiff, wasmine own Helplessness in the matter. What could Ido, short of betraying the trust which was reposedin me?—and this, of course, was unthinkable.

I wrote on, feeling ever more dazed and dumb.From the other side of the screen the Voices of thetwo young Gentlemen came at times to mine ear withunusual clearness, at others only like an intermittenthum. Mr. Baggs had apparently left the room, andthe others had no doubt become wholly oblivious ofmy Presence. Lord Douglas Wychwoode had toldhis Friend something of his madcap Schemes; hisvoice sounded both eager and enthusiastic. But myLord Stour demurred.

"I am a Soldier," he said at one time; "not aPolitician."

"That's just it!" the other argued withearnestness. "It is Men like you that we want. We mustcrush that spendthrift Wanton who holds the Kingin her thrall, and we must force a dishonouredMonarch to give up the Crown of England to onewho is worthier to wear it, since he himself, even inthese few brief months, has already covered it withinfamy."

"You have set yourself a difficult task, myfriend," my Lord Stour urged more soberly; "anda dangerous one, too."

"Only difficult and dangerous," retorted LordDouglas, "whilst such Men as you still hold aloof."

"I tell you, I am no Politician," his Friendrejoined somewhat impatiently.

"But You are a Man, and not a senselessprofligate—an earnest Protestant, who must loathe thatcobweb of Popery which overlies the King's everyAction, and blurs his vision of duty and of dignity."

"Yes—but——"

Then it was that Lord Douglas, with greatpatience and earnestness, gave to his Friend a detailedaccount of his criminal Scheme—for criminal it was,however much it might be disguised under the cloakof patriotism and religious fervour. How LordStour received the communication, I could not say.I had ceased to listen and was concentrating mymind on my uncongenial task. Moreover, I fancythat Lord Stour did not say much. He must havedisapproved of it, as any right-minded Man would,and no doubt tried his best to bring Lord Douglasto a more rational state of mind. But this is mereconjecture on my part, and, of course, I could notsee his face, which would have been a clear indexto his thoughts. At one time I heard him exclaimindignantly:

"But surely You will not entrust the distributionof those Manifestos, which may cost you your head,to that obsequious and mealy-mouthed notary?"

Mr. Baggs should have heard the contemptwherewith my Lord uttered those words! It wouldhave taught him how little regard his servile wayshad won for him, and how much more thoroughlywould he have been respected had he adopted a moremanly bearing towards his Clients, however highlythese may have been placed.

After this, Lord Douglas Wychwoode becameeven more persuasive and eager. Perhaps he hadnoted the first signs of yielding in the Attitude ofhis Friend.

"No, no!" he said. "And that is our serioustrouble. I and those who are at one with me feelthat we are surrounded with spies. We do want asure Hand—a Hand that will not err and that wecan trust—to distribute the Manifestos, and, ifpossible, to bring us back decisive Answers. Some ofthe Men with whom we wish to communicate liveat some considerable distance from town. We onlywish to approach influential people; but some ofthese seldom come to London; in fact, with theexception of the Members of a venal Government andof a few effete Peers as profligate as the Kinghimself, but few Men, worthy of the name, do elect tolive in this degenerate City."

His talk was somewhat rambling; perhaps I didnot catch all that he said. After awhile Lord Stourremarked casually:

"And so You thought of me as your possible Emissary?"

"Was I wrong?" retorted Lord Douglas hotly.

"Nay, my friend," rejoined the other coldly. "Iam honoured by this trust which You would placein me; but——"

"But You refuse?" broke in Lord Douglas withbitter reproach.

I imagine that my Lord Stour's reply must havebeen an unsatisfactory one to his Friend, for thelatter uttered an exclamation of supreme impatience.I heard but little more of their conversation justthen, for the noise in the Street below, which hadbeen attracting my Attention on and off for sometime, now grew in intensity, and, curious to knowwhat it portended, I rose from my chair andleaned out of the window to see what was happening.

From the window, as You know, one gets a viewof the corner of our Street as it debouches into FleetStreet by theSpread Eagle tavern, and even therestricted View which I thus had showed me at oncethat some kind of rioting was going on. Notrioting of an ordinary kind, for of a truth we who livein the heart of the City of London are used to itsmany cries; to the "Make way there!" of the SedanChairman and the "Make room there!" of theDrivers of wheel-barrows, all mingling with the"Stand up there, you blind dog!" bawled by everyCarman as he tries to squeeze his way through thethrongs in the streets.

No! this time it seemed more than that, and I,who had seen the crowds which filled the Streets ofLondon from end to end on the occasion of thedeath of the Lord Protector, and had seen themerry-makers who had made those same streetsimpassable when King Charles entered London alittle more than a year ago, I soon realized that theCrowd which I saw flocking both up and downFleet Street was in an ugly mood.

At first I thought that some of those abominablevagabonds from Whitefriars—those whom we callthe Alsatians, and who are in perpetual conflict withthe law—had come out in a body from their sink ofiniquity close by and had started one of theirperiodical combats with the Sheriffs' Officers; butsoon I recognized some faces familiar to me amongthe crowd as they ran past the corner—Men,Women and Boys who, though of a rough andturbulent Character, could in no way be confoundedwith the law-breaking Alsatians.

There was, for instance, the Tinker, whom Iknew well by sight. He was running along, knockinghis skillets and frying-pans against one anotheras he passed, shouting lustily the while. Then therewas a sooty chimney-sweep, whom I knew to be anhonest Man, and the broom Men with their Boys,and many law-abiding Pedestrians who, fearful ofthe crowd, were walking in the traffic way, meeklygiving the wall to the more roisterous throng. Theyall seemed to be a part of that same Crowd whichwas scampering and hurrying up and down FleetStreet, shouting and causing a disturbance such asI do not remember ever having seen before.

I should have liked to have gazed out of theWindow until I had ascertained positively what thenoise was about; but I remembered that my taskwas only half-accomplished and that I had at theleast another half-dozen Manifestos to write out.I was on the point of sitting down once more tomy Work when I heard Lord Douglas Wychwoode'svoice quite close to the screen, sayinganxiously, as if in answer to some remark made byhis friend:

"I trust not. My Sister is out in her chairsomewhere in this neighbourhood, and only withher two Bearers."

Apparently the two Gentlemen's attention hadalso been arrested by the tumult. The next momentMr. Theophilus Baggs came in, and immediatelythey both plied him simultaneously with questions."What were those strange cries in the street? Wasthere likely to be a riot? What was the cause ofthe tumult?" All of which Mr. Baggs felt himselfunable to answer. In the end, he said that he wouldwalk down to the corner of the Street and ascertainwhat was happening.

Ensconced within the window recess and hiddenfrom view by the screen, I soon gave up all attemptat continuing my work. Somehow, the twoGentlemen's anxiety about the Lady Barbara hadcommunicated itself to me. But my thoughts, of course,were of You. Fortunately for my peace of mind, Iknew that You were safe; at some distance, in fact,from the scene of the present tumult. Nevertheless,I had already made up my mind that if the riotingspread to the neighbouring streets, I would slip outpresently and go as far as Dorset Gardens, whereyou were busy at rehearsal, and there wait for youuntil you came out of the Theatre, when, if youwere unattended, I could escort you home.

I could not myself have explained why the Noiseoutside and the obvious rough temper of the Peopleshould have agitated me as they undoubtedly did.

Anon, Mr. Baggs returned with a veritable sackful of news.

"There is a great tumult all down theneighbourhood," said he, "because Lady Castlemaine iseven now at the India House drinking tea, and a lotof rowdy folk have made up their minds to give hera rough welcome when she comes out. She is notpopular just now, my Lady Castlemaine,"Mr. Baggs continued complacently, as he gave a look ofunderstanding to Lord Douglas Wychwoode,"And I fancy that she will experience anunpleasant quarter of an hour presently."

"But, surely," protested my Lord Stour, "awhole mob will not be allowed to attack adefenceless woman, however unpopular she may be!"

"Oh, as to that," rejoined Mr. Baggs with anindifferent shrug of the shoulders, "a London mobis not like to be squeamish when its temper isaroused; and just now, when work is scarce andfood very dear, the sight of her Ladyship's gorgeousliveries are apt to exasperate those who have anempty stomach."

"But what will they do to her?" urged myLord, whose manly feelings were evidentlyoutraged at the prospect of seeing any Woman a preyto an angry rabble.

"That I cannot tell you, my Lord," repliedMr. Baggs. "The crowd hath several ways of showingits displeasure. You know, when a Frenchman orsome other Foreigner shows his face in the Streetsof London, how soon he becomes the butt of passingmissiles. The sweep will leave a sooty imprint uponhis coat; a baker's basket will cover him with dust;at every hackney-coach stand, some facetiouscoachman will puff the froth of his beer into his face.Well! you may draw your own conclusions, myLord, as to what will happen anon, when my LadyCastlemaine hath finished drinking her dish of tea!"

"But surely no one would treat a Lady so?" oncemore ejaculated my Lord Stour hotly.

"Perhaps not," retorted Mr. Baggs drily. "Butthen you, see, my Lord, Lady Castlemaine is... Well; she is Lady Castlemaine ... and at thecorner of our street just now I heard murmurs ofthe Pillory or even worse for her——"

"But this is monstrous—infamous——!"

"And will be well deserved," here broke in LordDouglas decisively. "Fie on You, Friend, to worryover that baggage, whilst we are still in doubt ifmy Sister be safe."

"Yes!" murmured Lord Stour, with a suddennote of deep solicitude in his voice. "My God! Iwas forgetting!"

He ran to the window—the one next to the recesswhere I still remained ensconced—threw open thecasement and gazed out even more anxiously than Ihad been doing all along. Mr. Baggs in themeanwhile endeavoured to reassure Lord Douglas.

"If," he said, "her Ladyship knows that yourLordship hath come here to visit me, she may seekshelter under my humble roof."

"God grant that she may!" rejoined the youngMan fervently.

We all were on tenterhooks, I as much as theothers; and we all gazed out agitatedly in thedirection of Fleet Street. Then, all at once, my LordStour gave a cry of relief.

"There's the chaise!" he exclaimed. "It hasjust turned the corner of this street....No! not that way, Douglas ... on your right....That is Lady Barbara's chaise, is it not?"

"Yes, it is!" ejaculated the other. "ThankHeaven, her man Pyncheon has had the goodsense to bring her here. Quick, Mr. Notary!" headded. "The door!"

The next moment a Sedan chair borne by twomen in handsome liveries of blue and silver cameto a halt just below. Already Mr. Baggs hadhurried down the stairs. He would, I know, yield to noone in the privilege of being the first to make theLady Barbara welcome in his House. TheExcitement and Anxiety were momentarily over, and Icould view quite composedly from above thebeautiful Lady Barbara as she stepped out of her Chair, alittle flurried obviously, for she clasped andunclasped her cloak with a nervy, trembling hand.

A second or two later, I heard her high-heeledshoes pattering up the stairs, whilst her Men withthe Chair sought refuge in a quiet tavern higher upin Chancery Lane.

CHAPTER IV

MORE THAN A PASSING FANCY

1

I would that You, fair Mistress, had seen theLady Barbara Wychwoode as I beheld her on thatnever-to-be-forgotten afternoon, her Cheeks of adelicate pallor, her golden Hair slightly disarranged,her Lips trembling with excitement. You, who areso inexpressibly beautiful, would have been generousenough to give ungrudging Admiration to what wasso passing fair.

She was panting a little, for obviously she hadbeen scared, and clung to her Brother as if forprotection. But I noticed that directly she entered theroom her Eyes encountered those of my Lord Stour,and that at sight of him a happy smile at onceover-spread and illumined her Face.

"I am so thankful, Douglas, dear," she said,"that Pyncheon happened to know you were here.He also knew the way to Mr. Baggs' house, and assoon as he realized that the crowd in Fleet Streetwas no ordinary one, he literally took to his heelsand brought me along here in amazingly quick time.But, oh!" she added lightly, "I can tell You that Iwas scared. My heart went thumping and I havenot yet recovered my breath."

Her cheeks now had become suffused with a blushand her blue eyes sparkled, more with excitementthan fear, I imagined. Certain it is that her Beautywas enhanced thereby. But Lord Douglas, with aBrother's privilege, shrugged his shoulders and saidwith a show of banter:

"Methinks, Babs, dear, that your heart hathchiefly gone a-thumping because you are surprisedat finding Stour here."

She gave a gay little laugh—the laugh of one whois sure of Love and of Happiness; the same laugh,dear Mistress, for which I have hearkened of latein vain from You.

"I only arrived in London this morning," myLord Stour explained.

"And hastened to pay your respects to the lawrather than to me," Lady Barbara taunted himlightly.

"I would not have ventured to present myself atthis hour," he rejoined. "And, apparently, wouldhave found the Lady Barbara from home."

"So a beneficent Fairy whispered to You to goand see Mr. Notary, and thus arranged everythingfor the best."

"The beneficent Fairy had her work cut out,then," Lord Douglas remarked, somewhatimpatiently, I thought.

"How do you mean?" she retorted.

"Why," said he, "in order to secure this tryst,the beneficient Fairy had first to bring me hither aswell as Stour, and Lady Castlemaine to the IndiaHouse. Then she had to inflame the temper of awhole Crowd of Roisterers sufficiently to cause theworthy Pyncheon to take to his heels, with you inthe chair. In fact, the good Fairy must have beento endless trouble to arrange this meeting 'twixtLady Barbara and her Lover, when but a few hourslater that same meeting would have come about quitenaturally."

"Nay, then!" she riposted with perfect goodhumour, "let us call it a happy Coincidence, andsay no more about it."

Even then her Brother uttered an angry exclamation.He appeared irritated by the placidity andgood humour of the others. His nerves wereevidently on edge, and while my Lord Stour, with theegoism peculiar to Lovers, became absorbed inwhispering sweet nothings in Lady Barbara's ears,Lord Douglas took to pacing up and down the Roomlike some impatient Animal.

I watched the three of them with ever-growinginterest. Being very sensitive to outward influences,I was suddenly obsessed with the feeling thatthrough some means or other these three Persons, sofar above me in station, would somehow becomeintermixed with my Life, and that it had suddenlybecome my Duty to watch them and to listen to whatthey were saying.

I had no desire to pry upon them, of course; soI pray You do not misunderstand nor condemn mefor thus remaining hidden behind the screen and fornot betraying my Presence to them all. Certainly myLord Stour and Lord Douglas Wychwoode hadknown at one time that I was in the Room. Theyhad seen me installed in the window-recess, withthe treasonable Manifestos which I had been set tocopy. But since then the two Gentlemen hadobviously become wholly oblivious of my Presence,and the Lady Barbara did not of course even knowof my Existence, whilst I did not feel disposed toreveal myself to any of them just yet.

2

Lord Douglas, thereafter, was for braving theRioters and for returning home. But LadyBarbara and Lord Stour, feeling happy in one another'sCompany, were quite content to bide for a timeunder Mr. Baggs' sheltering roof.

"You must have patience, Douglas," she said toher Brother. "I assure you that the Streets arenot safe. Some rowdy Folk have set themselves toattacking every chair they see and tearing the goldand silver lace from the Chairmen's liveries. Eventhe side-streets are thronged. Pyncheon will tellyou of the difficulty he had in bringing me here."

"But we cannot wait until night!" Lord Douglasurged impatiently.

"No!" said she. "Only an hour or two. Assoon as the people have seen Lady Castlemaine andhave vented their wrath on her, they will begin todisperse, chiefly into the neighbouring Taverns, andthen we can slip quietly away."

"Or else," broke in Lord Stour hotly, "surelythe watchmen will come anon and disperse thatrabble ere it vents its spite upon a defencelessWoman!"

"A defenceless Woman, you call her, my Lord?"Lady Barbara retorted reproachfully. "She is themost dangerous Enemy England hath at thismoment!"

"You are severe, Lady Barbara——"

"Severe!" she exclaimed, with a vehement toneof resentment. "Ah! you have been absent, myLord. You do not know—You do not understand!Over abroad You did not realise the Misery, theFamine, that is stalking our land. Money thatshould be spent on reclaiming our Industries, whichhave suffered through twenty years of civil strife,or in helping the poor to tide over these years oflean Harvests, is being lavished by an irresponsibleMonarch upon a greedy Wanton, who——"

"Barbara!"

She paused, recalled to herself by the stern voiceof her Brother. She had allowed her Indignationto master her maidenly reserve. Her cheeks wereaflame now, her lips quivering with Passion. Of atruth, she was a Woman to be admired, for, unlikemost of her sex, she had profound feelings ofPatriotism and of Charity; she had valour,enthusiasm, temperament, and was not ashamed to speakwhat was in her mind. I watched my Lord Stourwhile she spoke, and saw how deeply he worshippedher. Now she encountered his Gaze, and heavytears came into her Eyes.

"Ah, my Lord," she said gently, "you will seesadder sights in the Streets of London to-day thanever you did in the Wars after the fiercest Battles."

"'Tis no use appealing to him, Babs," LordDouglas interposed with obvious exacerbation. "Amoment ago I told him of our Plans. I begged himto lend us his sword and his hand to strike a blowat the Profligacy and Wantonness which is sendingEngland to perdition worse than ever before——"

Lady Barbara turned great, reproachful eyes onmy Lord.

"And you refused?" she whispered.

My Lord looked confused. All at once, I knewthat he was already wavering. A weak Man,perhaps; he was deeply, desperately enamoured. Igathered that he had not seen the Lady Barbara forsome months. No doubt his Soul hungered for herSmiles. He was the sort of Man, methinks, whowould barter everything—even Honour—for theWoman he loved. And I do not think that he caredfor much beyond that. His Father, an youremember, fought on the Parliament side. I do not saythat he was one of the Regicides, but he did notraise a finger to help or to serve his King. And hehad been a rigid Protestant. All the Stourcliffes ofStour were that; and the present Earl's allegiance toKing Charles could only have been very perfunctory.Besides which, this is the age of Conspiraciesand of political Factions. I doubt not but it will beanother twenty years before the Country is reallysatisfied with its form of Government. Imyself—though God knows I am but a humble Clerk—couldwish that this Popish marriage for the King hadnot been decided on. We do not want religiousfactions warring with one another again.

But all this is beside the mark, nor would I dwellon it save for my desire to be, above all, just to thesethree People who were destined to do the Man Ilove best in the world an irreparable injury.

As I said before, I could see that my Lord Stourwas hesitating. Now Lady Barbara invited him tosit beside her upon the Sofa, and she began talkingto him quietly and earnestly, Lord Douglas onlyputting in a word or so now and again. What theysaid hath little to do with the portent of myNarrative, nor will I plague You with the telling of it.Those people are nothing to You; they have nothingto do with humble Plebeians like ourselves; they area class apart, and we should never mix ourselves upwith them or their affairs, as Mr. Betterton hathsince learned to his hurt.

3

While they were talking together, the three ofthem, I tried once more to concentrate my mindupon my work, and finished off another two or threecopies of the treasonable Manifesto.

All this while, you must remember that the noiseand rowdiness in the streets had in no waydiminished. Rather had it grown in intensity. Thepeople whom I watched from time to time and sawdarting down Chancery Lane or across the cornerof Fleet Street, looked more excited, more bent onmischief, than before. I had seen a few stonesflying about, and once or twice heard the ominouscrash of broken glass.

Then suddenly there came an immense Cry, whichwas not unlike the snarling of hundreds of angryBeasts. I knew what that meant. My Lady Castlemainewas either on the point of quitting the IndiaHouse or had been otherwise spied by the Populace.I could no longer restrain my Curiosity. Once moreI cast my papers aside and leaned out of the window.The shouting and booing had become more and moreominous. Apparently, too, a company of the CityWatchmen had arrived. They were trying to forcethrough the throng, and their calls of "Make waythere!" sounded more and more peremptory. Butwhat was a handful of Watchmen beside an excitedcrowd of Rioters determined to wreak their temperupon an unpopular bit of baggage? I doubt not butthat His Majesty's Body-guard could alone restoreorder now and compass the safety of the Lady.

As I leaned out of the Window I could see stonesand miscellaneous missiles flying in every direction;and then suddenly I had a clear vision of a gorgeousSedan Chair escorted by a dozen or more CityWatchmen, who were trying to forge a way for itthrough the Crowd. They were trying to reach thecorner of our Street, hoping no doubt to turn upthis way and thus effect an escape by way of theLower Lincoln's Inn Fields and Drury Lane, whilethe Crowd would of necessity be kept back throughthe narrowness of the Streets and the intricacies ofthe Alleys.

The whole point now was whether the Chairmencould reach our corner before the Roisterers hadsucceeded in beating back the Watchmen, when ofcourse they meant to tear Lady Castlemaine out ofher chair. Poor, wretched Woman! She musthave been terribly frightened. I know that Imyself felt woefully agitated. Leaning out toward thestreet, I could see Lady Barbara's pretty head atthe next window and my Lord Stour and LordDouglas close beside her. They too had forgotten allabout their talk and their plans and Conspiracies,and were gazing out on the exciting Spectacle withmixed feelings, I make no doubt. As for me, I feelquite sure that but for my sense of utter helplessness,I should have rushed out even then and triedto lend a hand in helping an unfortunate Woman outof so terrible a Predicament, and I marvelled howdeep must have been the hatred for her, felt byGentlemen like my Lord Stour and Lord DouglasWychwoode, that their Sense of Chivalry forsookthem so completely at this Hour, that neither ofthem attempted to run to her aid or even suggestedthat she should find shelter in this House.

As for Mr. Baggs, he was not merely idly curious;he was delighted at the idea that my LadyCastlemaine should be maltreated by the mob; whilstMistress Euphrosine's one idea was the hope thatif the Rioters meant to murder the Baggage, theywould not do so outside this door. She andMr. Baggs had come running into the Parlour themoment the rioting reached its height, and of a truth,dear Mistress, you would have been amused to seeus all at the three front windows of the house—threegroups watching the distant and wildly excitinghappenings in Fleet Street. There was I at onewindow; Mr. and Mrs. Baggs at the other; LadyBarbara and the two Gallants at the third. And theejaculations which came from one set of Watchersor the other would fill several pages of my narrative.

Mistress Euphrosine was in abject fear. "Oh!I hope," cried she now and again, "that they won'tcome this way. There'll be murder upon our doorstep!"

My Lord Stour had just one revulsion of feelingin favour of the unfortunate Castlemaine. "Come,Douglas!" he called at one time. "Let's to her aid.Remember she is a Woman, after all!"

But Lady Barbara placed a restraining hand uponhis arm, and Lord Douglas said with a rough laugh:"I would not lift a finger to defend her. Let theDevil befriend her, an he list."

And all the while the mob hissed and hooted, andstones flew like hail all around the Chaise.

"Oh! they'll murder her! They'll murder her!"called Mistress Euphrosine piously.

"And save honest men a vast deal of troublethereby," Mr. Baggs concluded sententiously.

The Watchmen were now forging ahead. Withtheir sticks and staves they fought their way throughbravely, heading the chair towards our street. Buteven so, methought that they stood but little Chanceof saving my Lady Castlemaine in the end. TheCrowd had guessed their purpose already, and werequite ready to give Chase. The Chairmen with theirheavy burden could be no match against them in aRace, and the final capture of the unfortunateWoman was only now a question of time.

Then suddenly I gave a gasp. Of a truth I couldscarce believe in what I saw. Let me try and putthe picture clearly before you, dear Mistress; for intruth You would have loved to see it as I did then.About half a dozen Watchmen had by great exertionsucceeded in turning the corner of our Street. Theywere heading towards us with only a comparativelysmall knot of roisterers to contend against, and thepanting, struggling Chairmen with the Sedan Chairwere immediately behind them.

As far as I could see, the Crowd had notexpected this Manoeuvre, and the sudden turning offof their prey at right angles disconcerted theforemost among them, for the space of a second or two.This gave the Chairmen a brief start up the street.But the very next moment the Crowd realized thesituation, and with a wild war-cry, turned to giveChase, when a Man suddenly stepped out fromnowhere in particular that I could see, unless it wasfrom theSpread Eagle tavern, and stood at thebottom of the street between two posts, all alone,facing the mob.

His Appearance, I imagine, had been sounexpected as well as so sudden, that the youngRoisterers in the front of the Crowd paused—like aCrowd always will when something totallyunexpected doth occur. The Man, of course, had hisback towards us, but I had recognized him, nor wasI surprised that his Appearance did have the effectof checking for an instant that spirit of Mischiefwhich was animating the throng. Lady Barbaraand the young Gentlemen at the other window wereeven more astonished than I at this whollyunforeseen occurrence. They could not understand thesudden checking of the Rioters and the comparativesilence which fell upon the forefront of their ranks.

"What does it all mean?" my Lord Stour exclaimed.

"A Man between the chair and its pursuers,"Lord Douglas said in amazement.

"Who is it?" queried Lady Barbara.

"Not a Gentleman," rejoined Lord Douglas;"for he would not thus stop to parley with so foula mob. Meseems I know the figure," he added, andleaned still further out of the window, the betterto take in the whole of the amazing scene. "Yes—bygad! ... It is..."

Here Mistress Euphrosine's cry of horror brokein upon us all.

"Alas!" she ejaculated piously. "'Tis thatreprobate Brother of mine!"

"So it is!" added Mr. Baggs drily. "'Tis meethe should raise his voice in defence of that baggage."

"But, who is it?" insisted my Lord Stour impatiently.

"Why, Betterton the Actor," replied LordDouglas with a laugh. "Do you not know him?"

"Only from seeing him on the stage," said theother. Then he added: "An Actor confronting amob! By gad! the fellow hath pluck!"

"He knows," protested Mr. Baggs acidly, "thatthe mob will not hurt him. He hath so oft madethem laugh that they look upon him as one of themselves."

"Listen!" said Lady Barbara. "You can hearhim speak quite plainly."

Whereupon they all became silent.

All this, of course, had occurred in far less timethan it takes to describe. Not more than a fewseconds had gone by since first I saw Mr. Bettertonstep out from Nowhere in particular into the Street.But his Interposition had given my LadyCastlemaine's Chairmen and also the Watchmen, who wereguarding her, a distinct advance. They weremaking the most of the respite by hurrying up our streetas fast as they were able, even while the Crowd—thatportion of it that stood nearest to Mr. Bettertonand could hear his Voice—broke into a loud laugh atsome Sally of his which had apparently caught theirFancy.

From the distance the cry was raised: "To thepillory, the Castlemaine!"

It was at this point that my Lady Barbara badeevery one to listen, so that we all could hearMr. Betterton's rich and powerful Voice quite plainly.

"Come, come, Friends!" he was saying; "theLady will get there without your help some day,I'll warrant. Aye! and further too, an the Devilgives her her due! Now, now," he continued, whencries and murmurs, boos and hisses, strove tointerrupt him. "You are not going to hiss ahard-working Actor off the Stage like this. Do, in thename of Sport, which every sound-minded Englishmanloves, after all, await a fitter opportunity formolesting a defenceless Woman. What say You toadjourning to theSpread Eagle tavern, where mineHost hath just opened a new cask of the mostdelicious beer You have ever tasted? There's alarge room at the back of the bar—You know it.Well! every one who goes there now—and there'sroom for three or four hundred of You—can drinka pint of that beer at my expense. What say You,Friends? Is it not better than to give chase to apack of Watchmen and a pair of liveried Chairmenwho are already as scared as rabbits? See! theyare fast disappearing up the street. Come! whowill take a pint of beer at the invitation of TomBetterton? You know him! Is he not a jolly,good fellow?..."

Of course, he did not deliver this speechuninterruptedly. It was only snatches of it that came toour ear. But we Listeners soon caught the drift ofit, and watched its reception by the Crowd. Well! theFire-eaters gradually cooled down. Theprospect of the ale at theSpread Eagle caused many asmack of the lips, which in its turn smothered thecries of Rage and Vituperation. Anon, One couldperceive one forearm after another drawn withanticipatory Pleasure across lips that had ceased toboo.

Just then, too, Heaven interposed in a conciliatoryspirit in the form of a few drops of heavy Rain,presaging a Storm. The next moment the stampedein the direction of theSpread Eagle tavern hadbegun, whilst my Lady Castlemaine's Chairmentrudged unmolested past our door.

My Lord Stour gave a loud laugh.

"'Twas well thought on," he exclaimed. "TheMountebank hath found a way to stop the Rabble'showls, whilst my Lady Baggage finds safety inflight."

But Lady Barbara added thoughtfully: "Methinks'twas plucky to try and defend a Womansingle-handed."

4

I watched the turbulent throng, filing now inorderly procession through the hospitably opendoors of theSpread Eagle tavern. Mr. Bettertonremained for awhile standing at the door, marshallingthe more obstreperous of his invited Guests andparleying with Mr. Barraclough, the Host of theSpread Eagle—no doubt making arrangements forthe quenching of three or four hundred thirsts at hisexpense. Then he suddenly turned on his heel andcame up the Street. Lord Douglas gave one of hisrough, grating laughs, and said:

"So now I see that, like a wise man, Mr. Bettertonmistrusts his Popularity and proposes to seekrefuge from his ebullient Friends."

"I believe," said Mistress Euphrosine to her Lordin an awed whisper; "I believe that Thomas iscoming here."

Which possibility greatly disconcerted Mr. Baggs.He became quite agitated, and exclaimed fussily:

"I'll not have him here ... I'll not ... Notwhile her Ladyship is here ... I'll not allow it!"

"And pray why not, Mr. Notary?" Lady Barbaraput in haughtily. "Mr. Betterton sups twicea week with His Majesty. Surely then you mayinvite him without shame under your roof!"

"And I've never seen the great Actor close to,"remarked Lord Stour lightly. "I've oft marvelledwhat he was like in private life."

"Oh!" said Lord Douglas, with a distinct noteof acerbity in his voice, "he is just like any otherFellow of his degree. These Mountebanks have oflate thought themselves Somebodies, just because 'tisthe fashion for Gentlemen to write plays and to goto the Theatre. My Lord Rochester, Sir GeorgeEtherege and the others have so spoilt them by goingabout constantly with them, that the Fellows scarceknow their place now. This man Betterton is theworst of the lot. He makes love to the Ladies of theCourt, forgets that he is naught but a Rogue and aVagabond and not worthy to be seen in the companyof Gentlemen. Oh! I've oft had an itching to lay astick across the shoulders of some of these louts!"

I would that I could convey to you, dearMistress, the tone of Spite wherewith Lord Douglasspoke at this moment, or the look of Contemptwhich for the moment quite disfigured hisgood-looking Face. That he had been made aware atsome time of Mr. Betterton's admiration for LadyBarbara became at once apparent to me, also thathe looked upon that admiration as a Presumptionand an Insult.

I was confirmed in this Supposition by the lookwhich he gave then and there to his Sister, a lookwhich caused her to blush to the very roots of herhair. I fancy, too, that he also whisperedsomething on that Subject to my Lord Stour, for a darkfrown of Anger suddenly appeared upon the latter'sFace and he muttered an angry and rough Ejaculation.

As for me, I am an humble Clerk, a peacefulCitizen and a practising Christian; but just at thatmoment I felt that I hated Lord Douglas Wychwoodeand his Friend with a bitter and undyinghatred.

5

Meseemed as if the air within the room hadbecome surcharged with a subtle and heady fluid akinto an Intoxicant, so many Passions were even thenwarring in the innermost hearts of us all. Therewas Hatred and Spite, and Fervour and Love. Wewere all of us alive at that moment, if You knowwhat I mean. We were Individuals who felt andthought individually and strongly; not just the meresheeplike Creatures swayed hither and thither by theModes and Exigencies of the hour. And I canassure you that even then, when we heardMr. Betterton's quick step ascending the stairs, we allheld our breath and watched the door as ifsomething Supernatural was about to be revealed to us.

The next moment that door was thrown open andMr. Betterton appeared upon the threshold.

Ah! if only You had seen him then, Mistress,your heart would have rejoiced, just as mine did, atthe sight. Personally, I could never tell You ifMr. Betterton is tall or short, handsome orill-favoured; all that I know is that when he is in aroom you cannot look at any one else; he seems todwarf every other Man by the Picturesqueness ofhis Personality.

And now—oh! You should have seen him as hestood there, framed in the doorway, the greyafternoon light of this dull September day falling fullupon his Face, with those glittering Eyes of his andthe kindly, firm Mouth, round which there slowlybegan to spread a gently mocking Smile. He wasrichly dressed, as was his wont, with priceless lacefrills at throat and wrists, and his huge Periwigset off to perfection the nobility of his brow.

With one swift gaze round the room, he had takenin the full Situation. You know yourself, dearMistress, what marvellous Powers of Intuition he has.His glance swept over Lady Barbara's exquisitecomeliness, her somewhat flurried mien and wide,inquisitive eyes; over Lord Douglas, sullen andcontemptuous; my Lord Stour, wrathful andsuspicious; Mistress Euphrosine and Mr. Baggs, servileand tremulous. I doubt not that his keen Eyes hadalso spied me watching his every Movement frombehind the screen.

The mocking Smile broadened upon his Face.With one shapely leg extended forward, his rightarm holding his hat, his arm executing a superbflourish, he swept to the assembled Company anelaborate Bow.

"My Lords, your servant," he said. Then bowedmore gravely to Lady Barbara and added, with atone of subtle and flattering deference: "I am, asalways, your Ladyship's most humble and mostdevoted Slave."

Whereupon her Ladyship swept him one of thosegraceful Curtsies which I understand have becomethe Mode in fashionable Society of late. But theyoung Gentlemen seemed to have lost count of theirManners. They were either too wrathful or toomuch taken aback to speak. Mistress Euphrosine,with her nose in the air, was preparing to sailmajestically out of the room.

Mr. Betterton then stepped in. He threw downhis hat and playfully made pretence to interceptMistress Euphrosine.

"Sister, I do entreat You," he said with mockconcern, "do not carry your well-shaped nose sohigh. The scent of Heaven will not reach yournostrils, try how you may.... 'Tis more likelythat you will smell the brimstone which clings tomy perruque."

And before Mistress Euphrosine had time to thinkof a retort, he had turned to her Ladyship with thatgentle air of deference which became him so well.

"How comes it," he asked, "that I have theprivilege of meeting your Ladyship here?"

"A mere accident, Sir," my Lord Stourinterposed, somewhat high-handedly I thought. "HerLadyship, fearing to be molested by the Crowd,came to meet Lord Douglas here."

"I understand," murmured Mr. Betterton. AndI who knew him so well, realized that just for themoment he understood nothing save that he was inthe presence of this exquisitely beautiful Womanwho had enchained his Fancy. He stood like onetransfixed, his eyes fastened almost in wondermentupon the graceful Apparition before him. I shouldnot be exaggerating, fair Mistress, if I said that heseemed literally to be drinking in every line of herdainty Figure; the straight, white throat, thedamask cheek and soft, fair hair, slightly disarranged.He had of a truth lost consciousness of hissurroundings, and this to such an extent that itapparently set my Lord Stour's nerves on edge; foranon he said with evident Irritation and a totalDisregard both of polite Usage and of Truth, sinceof course he knew quite well to whom he wasspeaking:

"I did not catch your name, Sir; though youseem acquainted with her Ladyship."

He had to repeat the Query twice, and withhaughty impatience, before Mr. Betterton descendedfrom the Clouds in order to reply.

"My name is Betterton, Sir," he said, no lesscurtly than my lord.

"Betterton? Ah, yes!" his Lordship went on,with what I thought was studied Insolence, seeingthat he was addressing one of the most famousMen in England. "I have heard the Name before... but where, I cannot remember.... Letme see, you are...?"

"An Actor, Sir," Mr. Betterton gave haughtyanswer. "Therefore an Artist, even though anhumble one; but still a World contained in one Man."

Then his manner changed, the stiffness and pridewent out of it and he added in his more habitualmode of good-natured banter, whilst pointing in thedirection of Mistress Euphrosine:

"That, however, is not, I imagine, the opinionwhich my worthy Sister—a pious Lady, Sir—hathof my talents. She only concedes me a Soul whenshe gloats over the idea that it shall be damned."

"You are insolent!" quoth Mistress Euphrosine,as she stalked majestically to the door. "And I'llnot stay longer to hear you blaspheme."

Even so, her Brother's lightly mocking ripple ofLaughter pursued her along the course of herdignified exit through the door.

"Nay, dear Sister," he said. "Why not stayand tell these noble Gentlemen your doubts as towhich half of me in the hereafter will be stoking theFires of Hell and which half be wriggling in theFlames?" Then he added, turning gaily once moreto the Visitors as Mistress Euphrosine finallydeparted and banged the door to behind her:"Mistress Baggs, Sir, is much troubled that she cannotquite make up her mind how much of me is Deviland how much a lost Soul."

"Of a surety, Sir," retorted Lord Douglas, withthe same tone of malicious Spite wherewith he hadoriginally spoken of Mr. Betterton, "everyGentleman is bound to share your worthy Sister's doubtson that point ... and as to whether your rightHand or your sharp Tongue will fizzle first down below."

There was a moment's silence in the room—oh! themere fraction of a second—whilst I, who knewevery line of Mr. Betterton's face, saw the quickflash of Anger which darted from his eyes at theinsolent speech. Lady Barbara too had made aninstinctive movement, whether towards him inprotection or towards her Brother in reproach, I couldnot say. Certain it is that that Movement chasedaway in one instant Mr. Betterton's flaming wrath.He shrugged his shoulders and retorted with quietMockery:

"Your Lordship, I feel sure, will be able to havethose doubts set at rest presently. I understand thatvast intelligence will be granted to Gentlemen downthere."

At once my Lord's hand went to his sword.

"Insolent!—" he muttered; and my Lord Stourimmediately stepped to his Friend's side.

Like the Fleet Street crowd awhile ago, these twoGentlemen meant mischief. For some reason whichwas not far to seek, they were on the verge of aQuarrel with Mr. Betterton—nay! I believe thatthey meant to provoke him into one. In wordyWarfare, however, they did not stand much chanceagainst the great Actor's caustic Wit, and no doubttheir sense of Impotence made them all the morewrathful and quarrelsome.

Mr. Baggs, of course, servile and obsequious aswas his wont, was ready enough to interpose. AQuarrel inside his house, between valued Clients andhis detested Brother-in-law, was not at all to hisliking.

"My Lords ..." he mumbled half-incoherently,"I implore you ... do not heed him ... he..."

His futile attempts at Conciliation tickledMr. Betterton's sense of humour. The last vestige ofhis Anger vanished in a mocking Smile.

"Nay, good Master Theophilus," he said coolly,"prithee do not interfere between me and the Wrathof these two Gentlemen. Attend to thine ownAffairs ... and to thine own Conspiracies," headded—spoke suddenly under Mr. Baggs' very nose,so that the latter gave a jump and involuntarilygasped:

"Conspiracies? ... What—what the devil doyou mean, Sir, by Conspiracies?"

"Oh, nothing—nothing—my good Friend,"replied Mr. Betterton lightly. "But when I see twohot-headed young Cavaliers in close conversationwith a seedy Lawyer, I know that somewhere in thepocket of one of them there is a bit of Handwritingthat may send the lot of them to the Tower firstand to—well!—to Heaven afterwards."

My Heart was in my Mouth all the time that hespoke. Of course he could not know how near theTruth he was, and I firmly believe that his banterwas a mere Arrow shot into the air; but even so itgrazed these noble Lords' equanimity. LordDouglas had become very pale, and my Lord Stourlooked troubled, or was it my fancy? But I amsure that her Ladyship's blue eyes rested onMr. Betterton with a curious searching gaze. She toowondered how much Knowledge of the Truth laybehind his easy Sarcasm.

Then Lord Douglas broke into a laugh.

"There, for once, Sir Actor," he said lightly,"your perspicacity is at fault. My Lord the Earlof Stour and I came to consult your Brother-in-lawon a matter of business."

"And," exclaimed Mr. Betterton with mockconcern, "I am detaining you with my foolish talk. Ipray you, Gentlemen, take no further heed of me.Time treads hard on your aristocratic Heels, whilstit is the Slave of a poor, shiftless Actor like myself."

"Yes, yes," once more interposed the mealy-mouthedMr. Baggs. "I pray you, my Lords—yourLadyship—to come to my inner office——"

There was a general movement amongst theCompany, during which I distinctly heard LordDouglas Wychwoode whisper to my Lord Stour:

"Can you wonder that I always long to lay astick across that Man's shoulders? His every wordsounds like insolence ... And he has dared tomake love to Barbara...."

Her Ladyship, however, seemed loth to linger.The hour, of a truth, was getting late.

"Father will be anxious," she said. "I havestayed out over long."

"Are the streets safe, I wonder?" my Lord Stourremarked.

"Perfectly," broke in Mr. Betterton. "And ifher Ladyship will allow me, I will conduct her toher Chair."

Again my Lord Stour flashed out angrily, andonce more the brooding Quarrel threatened to burstthe bounds of conventional Intercourse. This timethe Lady Barbara herself interposed.

"I pray you, my good Lord," she said, "do notinterfere. Mr. Betterton and I are old Friends. Byyour leave, he shall conduct me to my chair. Do wenot owe it to him," she added gaily, "that thestreets are quiet enough to enable us all to get homein peace?"

Then she turned to Mr. Betterton and said gently:

"If You would be so kind, Sir—my men areclose by—I should be grateful if You will tell themto bring my chair along."

She held out her hand to him and he bowed lowand kissed the tips of her fingers. Then he went.

6

Lord Douglas' spiteful glance followed the distinguishedActor's retreating figure until the doorhad closed upon him. Then he said drily:

"Perhaps you are right, Babs. He may as wellfetch your chair. It is raining hard and oneLacquey is as good as another."

He turned to Mr. Baggs, who, standing first onone leg then on the other, presented a truly pitiablespectacle of Servility and Unmanliness. I think hehad just come to realize that I had been in the roombehind the screen all this while, and that myPresence would be unwelcome to their Lordships if theyknew that I had overheard all their Conversation.Certain it is that I saw him give a quick glance inmy direction, and then he became even more fussyand snivelling than before.

"In my inner Office," he murmured. "I prayyou to honour me, my Lords.... A glass ofwine, perhaps ... until the copies are finished.I should be so proud ... and ... and ... weshould be quite undisturbed ... whereashere ... I only regret..."

I despised him for all that grovelling, and so didthe Gentlemen, I make no doubt. Nevertheless, theywere ready to follow him.

"We must wait somewhere," Lord Douglas saidcurtly. "And I should be glad of a glass of wine."

Lady Barbara was standing in the window-recess,waiting for her chair. She insisted on my LordStour going with her Brother into the inner room.Undoubtedly, she did not wish either of them tomeet Mr. Betterton again.

"I promise you," she said with quiet Determination,"that I'll not stop to speak with him. I'llwatch through the window until my Men bring thechair; then I will go down at once."

"But——" protested his Lordship.

"I entreat you to go, my Lord," she reiteratedtartly. "And you too, Douglas. My temper is onedge, and if I am not left to myself for a fewmoments I shall have an attack of Nerves."

She certainly spoke with unwonted Sharpness.Thus commanded, it would have been churlish todisobey. The young Gentlemen, after a second ortwo longer of Hesitation, finally followed Mr. Baggsout of the room.

Now, I could not see the Lady Barbara, for shewas ensconced in a window-recess, just as I was;but I heard her give a loud Sigh of Impatience.There was no doubt that her Nerves had been jarred.Small wonder, seeing all that she had gone through—thenoise and rioting in the streets, her Terror andher Flight; her unexpected meeting with her Lover;then the advent of Mr. Betterton and that broodingQuarrel between him and the two Gentlemen, whichthreatened to break through at any moment.

The next minute I saw her Ladyship's chairbrought to a halt down below, and she crossed theLine of my Vision between the window and thesofa, where she had left her cloak. She picked itup and was about to wrap it round her shoulders,when the door was flung open and Mr. Bettertoncame in. He gave a quick glance round the roomand saw that the Lady Barbara was alone—or so hethought, for, of course, he did not see me. Hecarefully closed the door behind him and camequickly forward, ostensibly to help her Ladyship onwith her cloak.

"It is kind of you, Sir, thus to wait on me," shesaid coldly. "May I claim your Arm to conductme to my chair?"

She was standing close in front of him just then,with her back to him and her hands raised up to hershoulders in order to receive her cloak, which he hadsomewhat roughly snatched out of her grasp.

"My Arm?" he riposted, with a vibrating noteof passion in his mellow voice. "My Life,myself, are all at your Ladyship's service. But willnot you wait one little moment and say one kindword to the poor Actor whose Art is the delight ofKings, and whose Person is the butt of everyCoxcomb who calls himself a Gentleman?"

He flung the cloak upon a chair and tried to takeher hand, which, however, she quickly withdrew,and then turned, not unkindly, to face him.

"My Brother is hasty, Sir," she said more gently."He has many prejudices which, no doubt, time andexperience of life will mend. As for me," sheadded lightly, "I am quite ready to extend thehand of Friendship, not only to the Artist but tothe Man."

She held out her hand to him. Then, as he didnot take it, but stood there looking at her withthat hungry, passionate look which revealed thedepth of his Admiration for her, she continued witha bantering tone of reproach:

"You will not take my hand, Sir?"

"No," he replied curtly.

"But I am offering You my Friendship," shewent on, with a quick, nervy little laugh; for shewas Woman enough, believe me, to understand his look.

"Friendship between Man and Woman is impossible,"he said in a strange, hoarse voice, whichI scarce recognized as his.

"What do you mean?" she retorted, with asudden stiffening of her Figure and a haughtyGlance which he, of a truth, should have knownboded no good for his suit.

"I mean," he replied, "that between a Man anda Woman, who are both young and both endowedwith Heart and Soul and Temperament, there maybe Enmity or Love, Hatred or Passion; butFriendship, never."

"You talk vaguely, Sir," she rejoined coldly. "Ipray You, give me my cloak."

"Not," he retorted, "before I have caused yourLadyship to cast one short Glance back over thepast few months."

"With what purpose, I pray You?"

"So that You might recognize, as You gazealong their vista, the man who since he first beheldyou hath madly worshipped You."

She stood before him, still facing him, tall and ofa truth divinely fair. Nay! this no one couldgainsay. For the moment I found it in my Heart tosympathize with his Infatuation. You, dearMistress, were not there to show him how much lovelierstill a Woman could be, and the Lady Barbara hadall the subtle flavour, too, of forbidden fruit.Mr. Betterton sank on one knee before her; his mellowVoice sounded exquisitely tender and caressing.Oh! had I been a Woman, how gladly would I havelistened to his words. There never was such aVoice as that of Mr. Betterton. No wonder thathe can sway the hearts of thousands by its Magic;no wonder that thousands remain entranced whilehe speaks. Now, I assure You, Mistress, that tearsgathered in my eyes, there was such true Passion,such depth of feeling in his tone. But LadyBarbara's heart was not touched. In truth, she lovedanother Man, and her whole outlook on Life andMen was distorted by the Environment amidstwhich she had been brought up.

The exquisite, insinuating Voice with its note oftender Appeal only aroused her contempt. Shejumped to her feet with an angry exclamation.What she said, I do not quite remember; but it wasa Remark which must have stung him to the quick,for I can assure You, dear Mistress, that Mr. Betterton'spride is at least equal to that of the greatestNobleman in the land. But all that he did say was:

"Nay, Madam; an Artist's love is not an insult,even to a Queen."

"Possibly, Sir," she riposted coldly. "But I atleast cannot listen to You. So I pray You let merejoin my Servants."

"And I pray You," he pleaded, without rising,"humbly on my knees, to hear me just this once!"

She protested, and would have left him there,kneeling, while she ran out of the room; but he hadsucceeded in getting hold of her Hand and wasclinging to it with both his own, whilst from hislips there came a torrent of passionate pleading suchas I could not have thought any Woman capableof resisting for long.

"I am not a young Dandy," he urged; "nor yeta lank-haired, crazy Poet who grows hysterical overa Woman's eyebrow. I am a Man, and an Artist,rich with an inheritance such as even yourAncestors would have envied me. Mine inheritance isthe Mind and Memory of cultured England and aName which by mine Art I have rendered immortal."

"I honour your Genius, Sir," she rejoinedcoolly; "and because of it, I try to excuse yourfolly."

"Nay!" he continued with passionate insistence."There are Passions so sweet that they excuse allthe Follies they provoke. Oh! I pray You listen... I have waited in silence for months, notdaring to approach You. You seemed immeasurablyabove me, as distant as the Stars; but whilst I,poor and lowly-born, waited and worshippedsilently, success forged for me a Name, so coveredwith Glory that I dare at last place it at your feet."

"I am touched, Sir, and honoured, I assure You,"she said somewhat impatiently. "But all this isnaught but folly, and reason should teach you thatthe Daughter of the Marquis of Sidbury can benothing to You."

But by this time it was evident that the greatand distinguished Actor had allowed his Folly toconquer his Reason. I closed my eyes, for I couldnot bear to see a Man whom I so greatly respectedkneeling in such abject humiliation before a Womanwho had nothing for him but disdain. Ah! Womencan be very cruel when they do not love. In truth,Lady Barbara, with all her Rank and Wealth, couldnot really have felt contempt for a Man whom theKing himself and the highest in the land delightedto honour; yet I assure You, Mistress, that some ofthe things she said made me blush for the sake ofthe high-minded Man who honours me with hisFriendship.

"Short of reason, Sir," she said, with unmeasuredhauteur at one time, "I pray you recall yourfar-famed sense of humour. Let it show you ThomasBetterton, the son of a Scullion, asking the hand ofthe Lady Barbara Wychwoode in marriage."

This was meant for a Slap in the Face, and wasnaught but a studied insult; for we all know that thestory of Mr. Betterton's Father having been amenial is utterly without foundation. But I assureYou that by this time he was blind and deaf to allsave to the insistent call of his own overwhelmingpassion. He did not resent the insult, as I thoughthe would do; but merely rejoined fervently:

"I strive to conjure the picture; but only see TomBetterton, the world-famed Artist, wooing theWoman he loves."

But what need is there for me to recapitulate hereall the fond and foolish things which were spokenby a truly great Man to a chit of a Girl, who wastoo self-centred and egotistical to appreciate thegreat Honour which he was conferring on her by hisWooing. I was holding my breath, fearful lest Ishould be seen. To both of these proud Peoplebefore me, my known Presence would have been anadded humiliation. Already Lady Barbara,impatient of Mr. Betterton's importunity, was raising herVoice and curtly bidding him to leave her in peace.I thought every moment that she would call out toher Brother, when Heaven alone would know whatwould happen next.

"Your importunity becomes an insult, Sir," shesaid at last. "I command You to release my hand."

She tried to wrench it from his Grasp, but Iimagine that his hold on her wrist was so strongthat she could not free herself. She looked aroundher now with a look of Helplessness, which wouldhave gone to my Heart if I had any feeling ofsympathy left after I had poured out its full measurefor my stricken Friend. He was not himself then,I assure You, Mistress. I know that the evil tongueof those who hate and envy him have pouredinsidious poison in your ears, that they told you thatMr. Betterton had insulted the Lady Barbara pastforgiveness and had behaved towards her like a Cadand a Bully. But this I swear to be untrue. I wasthere all the time, and I saw it all. He was on hisknees, and never attempted to touch her beyondclinging to her Hand and covering it with kisses.He was an humbled and a stricken Man, who sawhis Love rejected, his Passion flouted, his Sufferingmocked.

I tell you that all he did was to cling to her hand.

7

Then, all at once, I suppose something frightenedher, and she called loudly:

"Douglas! Douglas!"

I don't think that she meant to call, and I amsure that the very next moment she had alreadyregretted what she had done.

Mr. Betterton jumped to his feet, sobered in theinstant; and she stood alone in the middle of theroom, gazing somewhat wild-eyed in the directionof the door, which had already been violently flungopen and through which my Lord Stour and LordDouglas now hurriedly stepped forward.

"What is it, Babs?" Lord Douglas queriedroughly. "Why are You still here? ... And what...?"

He got no further. His glance had alighted onMr. Betterton, and I never saw quite so muchconcentrated Fury and Hatred in any one's eyes asnow appeared in those of Lord Douglas Wychwoode.

But already the Lady Barbara had recoveredherself. No doubt she realized the Mischief whichher involuntary call had occasioned. The Quarrelwhich had been slowly smouldering the wholeAfternoon was ready to burst into living flame at thismoment. Even so, she tried to stem its outburst,protesting that she had been misunderstood. Sheeven tried to laugh; but the laugh sounded pitiablyforced.

"But it's nothing, Douglas, dear," she said. "Iprotest. Did I really call? I do not remember.As a matter of fact, Mr. Betterton was good enoughto recite some verses for my delectation ... MyEnthusiasm must have run away with me... and, unwittingly, I must have called out..."

Obviously the Explanation was a lame one. Ifelt myself that it would not be believed. On theface of my Lord Stour thunderclouds of Wrathwere fast gathering, and though Mr. Betterton hadrecovered his presence of mind with all the Art athis command, yet there was a glitter in his eyeswhich he was powerless to veil, whilst the tremorof her Ladyship's lips while she strove to speakcalmly aroused my Lord Stour's ever-wakefulJealousy.

Lord Douglas, as was his wont apparentlywhenever he was deeply moved, was pacing up and downthe room; his hands were clasped behind his backand from time to time I could see their convulsivetwitching. Lord Stour now silently helped herLadyship on with her cloak. I was thankful thatMr. Baggs and Mistress Euphrosine were keepingin the background, else I verily believe that theirobsequious Snivellings would have caused myquivering Nerves to play me an unpleasant trick.

Mr. Betterton had retired to the nearest windowrecess, so that I could not see him. All that I didsee were the two Gentlemen and the threateningClouds which continued to gather upon their Brows.I also heard my Lord Stour whisper hurriedly inLord Douglas' ear:

"In the name of our Friendship, Man, let me dealwith this."

I felt as if an icy hand had gripped my Heart.I could not conjecture what that ominous Speechcould portend. Lady Barbara now looked very paleand troubled; her hands as they fumbled with hercloak trembled visibly. Lord Stour, with amasterful gesture, took one of them and held it firmlyunder his arm.

He then led her towards the door. Just beforeshe went with him, however, her Ladyship turned,and I imagine sought to attract Mr. Betterton'sattention.

"I must thank you, Sir," she said, with a finalpathetic attempt at Conciliation, "for your beautifulRecitation. I shall be greatly envied, methinks, bythose who have only heard Mr. Betterton declaimupon the Stage."

Lord Douglas had gone to the door. He openedit and stood grimly by whilst my Lord Stourwalked out, with her Ladyship upon his arm.

CHAPTER V

THE OUTRAGE

1

A great Sadness descends upon my Soul, dearMistress, even as I write. Cold shivers course upand down the length of my spine and mine eyes feelhot with tears still unshed—tears of Sorrow and ofShame, aye! and of a just Anger that it should havebeen in the power of two empty-headed Coxcombsto wreak an irreparable Injury upon one who is asmuch above them as are the Stars above thegrovelling Worms.

I use the words "irreparable Injury" advisedly,dear Lady, because what happened on that lateSeptember afternoon will for ever be graven upon theHeart and Memory of a great and noble Man, to theexclusion of many a gentle feeling which was wontto hold full sway over his Temperament before then.Time, mayhap, and the triumph of a great Soul overoverwhelming temptation, have no doubt somewhatsoftened the tearing ache of that cruel brand; butonly your Hand, fair Mistress, can complete thehealing, only your Voice can, with its tender gentleness,drown the insistent call of Pride still smartingfor further Revenge.

2

Lord Douglas Wychwoode did not speak toMr. Betterton after her Ladyship and my Lord Stourhad gone out of the room, but continued hisrestless pacing up and down. I thought his Silenceominous.

Half consciously, I kept my attention fixed uponthe street below, and presently saw the LadyBarbara get into her chair and bid adieu to his Lordship,who remained standing on our doorstep until theSedan was borne away up the street and out of sight.Then, to my astonishment, he walked down as faras theSpread Eagle tavern and disappeared withinits doors.

The Silence in our parlour was getting on mynerves. I could not see Mr. Betterton, only LordDouglas from time to time, when in his ceaselesstramping his short, burly figure crossed the line ofmy vision.

Anon I once more thought of my Work. Therewere a couple more copies of the Manifesto to bedone, and I set to, determined to finish them. Timewent on, and the afternoon light was now rapidlygrowing dim. Outside, the weather had notimproved. A thin rain was coming down, whichturned the traffic-way of our street to sticky mud.I remember, just after I had completed my Workand tidied up my papers, looking out of the windowand seeing, in the now fast-gathering gloom, theyoung Lord of Stour on the doorstep of theSpreadEagle tavern, in close conversation with half a dozenill-clad and ill-conditioned Ruffians. But I gave thematter no further thought just then, for my mindhappened to be engrossed with doubts as to how Ishould convey the Copies I had made to myEmployer without revealing my presence to LordDouglas Wychwoode.

His Lordship himself, however, soon relieved meof this perplexity, for presently he came to a haltby the door which led to the inner office and quiteunceremoniously pushed it open and walked through.I heard his peremptory demands for the Copies, andMr. Baggs' muttered explanations. But I did notwait a moment longer. This was obviously my bestopportunity for reappearing upon the Scene withouthis Lordship realizing that I had been in the parlourall the time. I slipped out from my hiding place andcarefully rearranged the screen in its formerposition, then I tiptoed across the room.

In the gloom, I caught sight of Mr. Bettertonstanding in one of the Recesses, his slender whitehands, which were so characteristic of his refined,artistic Personality, were clasped behind his back.I would have given a year or two of my humdrumlife for the privilege of speaking to him then and ofexpressing to him some of that Sympathy withwhich my heart was overflowing. But no one knowsbetter than I how proud a Man he is, and how hewould have resented the thought that any one elsehad witnessed his Humiliation.

So I executed the Manoeuvre which I had in mymind without further delay. I opened the doorwhich gave on the stairs noiselessly, then closed itagain with a bang, as if I had just come in. Then Istrode as heavily as I could across the room to thedoor of the inner office, against which I then rappedwith my knuckles.

"Who's that?" Mr. Baggs' voice queried immediately.

"The Copies, Sir, which you ordered," I repliedin a firm voice. "I have finished them."

"Come in! come in!" then broke in LordDouglas impatiently. "I have waited in thisaccursed hole quite long enough."

The whole thing went off splendidly, and evenMr. Baggs did subsequently compliment me on myclever Ruse. Lord Douglas never suspected thefact that I had not been out of the Parlour for amoment, but had heard from the safe shelter ofthe window-recess everything that had been going on.

3

When, a few moments later, I returned to theParlour, eager to have a few minutes' speech withMr. Betterton, I saw that he had gone. Anon,Kathleen, the maid, brought in the candles andclosed the shutters. I once more took my place atmy desk, but this time made no use of the screen.After awhile, Lord Douglas came in, followed bythe ever-obsequious Mr. Baggs, and almost directlyafter that, my Lord Stour came back.

His clothes were very wet and he shook the rainout from the brim of his hat.

"What a time You have been!" Lord Douglassaid to him. "I was for going away without seeing You."

"I wanted to find out what had happened inhere," my Lord Stour gave reply, speaking in a whisper.

"What do you mean?"

"The Fellow had the audacity to pay hisaddresses to Lady Barbara," my Lord Stour went on,still speaking below his breath. "I guessed as much,but wanted to make sure."

Lord Douglas uttered an angry Oath, and LordStour continued hurriedly:

"Such Insolence had to be severely punished, ofcourse; and I saw to it."

"How?" queried the other eagerly.

"I have hired half a dozen Ruffians from thetavern yonder, to waylay him with sticks on his wayfrom here, and to give him the sound thrashing hedeserves."

It was with the most terrific effort at self-controlthat I succeeded in smothering the Cry of Horrorwhich had risen to my lips. As it was, I jumped tomy feet and both my chair and the candle from mydesk fell with a clatter to the floor. I think thatMr. Baggs hurled a Volley of abuse upon me formy clumsiness and chided me in that the grease fromthe candle was getting wasted by dripping on thefloor. But the Gentlemen paid no heed to me. Theywere still engaged in their abominable conversation.While I stooped to pick up the chair and the candle,I heard my Lord Stour saying to his Friend:

"Come with me and see the Deed accomplished.The Mountebank must be made to know whoseHand is dealing him the well-merited punishment.My Hirelings meant to waylay him at the cornerof Spreadeagle Court, a quiet place which is not farfrom here, and which leads into a blind Alley.Quickly, now," he added; "or we shall be too late."

More I did not hear; for, believe me, dearMistress, I felt like one possessed. For the nonce, Idid not care whether I was seen or not, whetherMr. Baggs guessed my purpose or not. I did not care ifhe abused me or even punished me later for mystrange behaviour. All that I knew and felt justthen was that I must run to the corner of SpreadeagleCourt, where one of the most abominable Outragesever devised by one Man against Another waseven then being perpetrated. I tore across the room,through the door and down the stairs, hatless, mycoat tails flying behind me, like some Maniacescaping from his Warders.

I ran up Chancery Lane faster, I think, than anyman ever ran before. Already my ears wereringing with the sound of distant shouts and scuffling.My God! grant that I may not come too late. I,poor, weak, feeble of body, could of course donothing against six paid and armed Ruffians; but atleast I could be there to ward off or receive some ofthe blows which the arms of the sacrilegiousMiscreants were dealing, at the instance of miserableCoxcombs, to a man whose Genius and Glory shouldhave rendered him almost sacred in their sight.

4

As long as I live will that awful picture haunt meas I saw it then.

You know the Blind Alley on the left-hand side ofSpreadeagle Court, with, at the end of it, the greatdouble doorway which gives on the back premisesof Mr. Brooks' silk warehouse. It was against thatdoorway that Mr. Betterton had apparently soughtsome semblance of refuge when first he was set uponby the Ruffians. By the time that I reached thecorner of the Blind Alley, he had fallen against thedoor; for at first I could not see him. All that Isaw was a group of burly backs, and arms wavingsticks about in the air. All that I heard, oh, myGod! were ribald cries and laughter, and soundssuch as wild animals must make when they fall,hungry, upon their Prey. The Ruffians, I make nodoubt, had no grudge against their Victim; butthey had been well instructed and would be wellpaid if their foul deed was conscientiously accomplished.

My Wrath and Anxiety gave me the strengthwhich I otherwise lack. Pushing, jostling, crawling,I contrived to work my way through the hideousBarrier which seethed and moved and shoutedbetwixt me and the Man whom I love.

When I at last kneeled beside him, I saw andheard nothing more. I did not feel the blows whichone or two of the Ruffians thought fit to deal toMe. I only saw him, lying there against the door,panting, bleeding from forehead and hands, hisclothes torn, his noble Face of a deathly Pallor. Idrew his handkerchief from his coat pocket andstaunched the wounds upon his face; I pillowed hishead against my Shoulder; I helped him to struggleto his feet. He was in mortal pain and too weakto speak; but a ray of kindliness and of gratitudeflashed through his eyes when he recognised me.

The Ruffians were apparently satisfied with theirhideous work; but they still stood about at the topof the Alley, laughing and talking, waiting no doubtfor their Blood Money. Oh! if wishes could havestruck those Miscreants dumb or blind or palsied,my feeble voice would have been raised to Heaven,crying for Vengeance on such an infamous Deed.Hot tears came coursing down my cheeks, my templesthrobbed with pain and Misery, as my arm stoleround the trembling figure of my Friend.

Then all at once those tears were dried, thethrobbing of my temples was stilled. I felt no longerlike a Man, but like a petrified Statue of Indignationand of Hate. The sound of my Lord Stour'sVoice had just struck upon mine ear. Vaguelythrough the gloom I could see him and LordDouglas Wychwoode parleying with those abominableRuffians.... I heard the jingle of Money... Blood Money ... the ring of ribaldlaughter, snatches of a bibulous song.

These sounds and the clang of the Gentlemen'sfootsteps upon the cobble-stones also reachedMr. Betterton's fast-fading Senses. I felt a tremorcoursing right through his limbs. With an almostsuperhuman Effort, he pulled himself together anddrew himself erect, still clinging with both handsto my arms. By the time that the two youngCavaliers had reached the end of the blind Alley, theoutraged Man was ready to confront them. Theirpresence there, those sounds of jingling money andof laughter, had told him the whole abominable tale.He fought against his Weakness, against Pain andagainst an impending Swoon. He was still livid,but it was with Rage. His eyes had assumed anunnatural Fire; his whole appearance as he stoodthere against the solid background of the massivedoor, was sublime in its forceful Expression oftowering Wrath and of bitter, deadly Humiliation.

Even those two miserable Coxcombs paused foran instant, silenced and awed by what they saw.The laughter died upon their lips; the studied sneerupon their Face gave place to a transient expressionof fear.

Mr. Betterton's arm was now extended and withtrembling hand he pointed at Lord Stour.

"'Tis You——" he murmured hoarsely. "You—whohave done—this thing?"

"At your service," replied the young Man, witha lightness of manner which was obviously forcedand a great show of Haughtiness and of Insolence."My friend Lord Douglas here, has allowed me theprivilege of chastising a common Mountebank fordaring to raise his eyes to the Lady Barbara Wychwoode——"

At mention of the Lady's name, I feltMr. Betterton's clutch on my arm tighten convulsively.

"Does she——" he queried, "does she—know?"

"I forbid You," interposed Lord Douglas curtly,"to mention my Sister's name in the matter."

"'Tis to my Lord Stour I am speaking," rejoinedMr. Betterton more firmly. Then he added:"You will give me satisfaction for this outrage,my Lord——"

"Satisfaction?" riposted his Lordship coolly."What do you mean?"

"One of us has got to die because of this,"Mr. Betterton said loudly.

Whereupon my Lord Stour burst into a fit ofhilarious laughter, which sounded as callous as itwas forced.

"A Duel?" he almost shrieked, in a raspingvoice. "Ha! ha! ha! a Duel!!!—a duel withYou? ... With Tom Betterton, the Son of a Scullion....By my faith! 'tis the best joke you evermade, Sir Actor ... 'tis worth repeating uponthe Stage!"

But the injured Man waited unmoved until hisLordship's laughter died down in a savage Oath.Then he said calmly:

"The day and hour, my Lord Stour?"

"This is folly, Sir," rejoined the young Cavaliercoldly. "The Earl of Stour can only cross swordswith an Equal."

"In that case, my lord," was Mr. Betterton'scalm reply, "you can only cross swords henceforthwith a Coward and a Liar."

"Damned, insolent cur!" cried Lord Stour,maddened with rage no doubt at the other's calmcontempt. He advanced towards us with arm uplifted—thenperhaps felt ashamed, or frightened—I knownot which. Certain it is that Lord Douglassucceeded in dragging him back a step or two, whilsthe said with well-studied contempt:

"Pay no further heed to the fellow, my Friend.He has had his Punishment—do not bandy furtherWords with him."

He was for dragging Lord Stour away quicklynow. I do believe that he was ashamed of theabominable Deed. At any rate, he could not bearto look upon the Man who had been so diabolicallywronged.

"Come away, Man!" he kept reiterating atintervals. "Leave him alone!"

"One moment, my Lord," Mr. Betterton calledout in a strangely powerful tone of Voice. "I wishto hear your last Word."

By now we could hardly see one another. TheBlind Alley was in almost total gloom. Only againstthe fast-gathering dusk I could still see the hatedfigures of the two young Cavaliers, their outlinesblurred by the evening haze. Lord Stour wascertainly on the point of going; but at Mr. Betterton'sloudly spoken Challenge, he paused once more, thencame a step or two back towards us.

"My last Word?" he said coldly. Then helooked Mr. Betterton up and down, his everyMovement, his whole Attitude, a deadly Insult. "Onedoes not fight with such as You," he said, laughed,and would have turned away immediately, only thatMr. Betterton, with a quick and unforeseenMovement, suddenly reached forward and gripped himby the Wrist.

"Insolent puppy!" he said in a whisper, so hoarseand yet so distinct that not an Intonation, not asyllable of it was lost, "that knows not the Giantit has awakened by its puny bark. You refuse tocross swords with Tom Betterton, the son of aMenial, as you choose to say? Very well, then,'tis Thomas Betterton, the Artist of undyingrenown, who now declares war against You. Forevery Jeer to-day, for every Insult and for everyBlow, he will be even with You; for he will launchagainst You the irresistible Thunderbolt that killsworse than death and which is calledDishonour! ... Aye!I will fight You, my Lord; not to yourdeath, but to your undying Shame. And now," headded more feebly, as he threw his Lordship's armaway from him with a gesture of supreme contempt,"go, I pray You, go! I'll not detain You anylonger. You and your friend are free to laugh forthe last time to-day at the name which I, with myGenius, have rendered immortal. Beware, myLord! The Ridicule that kills, the Obloquy whichsmirches worse than the impious hands of paidLacqueys. This is the Word of Tom Betterton,my Lord; the first of his name, as you, please God,will be the last of yours!"

Then, without a groan, he fell, swooning, uponmy shoulder. When consciousness of my surroundingsonce more returned to me, I realized that thetwo Gentlemen had gone.

CHAPTER VI

THE GATHERING STORM

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It was after that never-to-be-forgotten Episodethat Mr. Betterton honoured me with his full andentire Confidence. At the moment that he clung sopathetically to my feeble arms, he realized, I thinkfor the first time, what a devoted Friend he wouldalways find in me. Something of the powerfulmagical Fluid of my devotion must have emanatedfrom my Heart and reached his sensitive Perceptions.He knew from that hour that, while I livedand had Health and Strength, I should never failhim in Loyalty and willing Service.

Soon afterwards, if you remember, Mr. Bettertonwent again to Paris, by command of HisMajesty this time, there to study and to master thewhole Question of Scenery and scenic Effects uponthe Stage, such as is practised at the Theatre deMolière in the great City. That he acquittedhimself of his task with Honour and Understandinggoes without saying. The rousing Welcome whichthe public of London gave him on his return testifiednot only to his Worth but also to his Popularity.

The scenic Innovations, though daring and attimes crudely realistic, did, in the opinion ofExperts, set off the art of Mr. Betterton to the greatestpossible Advantage. No doubt that his overwhelmingSuccess at that time was in a great measuredue to his familiarity with all those authentic-lookingdoors and trees and distant skies which atfirst bewildered such old-fashioned actors asMr. Harris or the two Messrs. Noakes.

Never indeed had Mr. Betterton been so greatas he was now. Never had his Talents stood so highin the estimation of the cultured World. Hissuccess asAlvaro in "Love and Honour," asSolymanin the "Siege of Rhodes," asHamlett orPericles,stand before me as veritable Triumphs. Bouquetsand Handkerchiefs, scented Notes and Love-tokens,were showered upon the brilliant Actor as he stoodupon the Stage, proudly receiving the adulation ofthe Audience whom he had conquered by the Magicof his Art.

His Majesty hardly ever missed a Performanceat the new Duke's Theatre when Mr. Bettertonwas acting, nor did my Lady Castlemaine, who wasshamelessly vowing about that time that she wasprepared to bestow upon the great Man any Favourhe might ask of her.

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But outwardly at any rate, Mr. Betterton hadbecome a changed Man. His robust Constitutionand splendid Vitality did in truth overcome thephysical after-effects of the abominable Outrage ofwhich he had been the Victim; but the moralconsequences upon his entire character and demeanourwere indeed incalculable. Of extraordinary purityin his mode of living, it had been difficult, beforethat Episode, for evil Gossip to besmirch his fairname, even in these lax and scandalous times. Butafter that grim September afternoon it seemed asif he took pride in emulating the leastestimable characteristics of his Contemporaries. HisMajesty's avowed predilection for the great Actorbrought the latter into daily contact with all thosenoble and beautiful Ladies who graced the Courtand Society, more by virtue of their outwardappearance than of their inner worth. Scarce everwas a banquet or fête given at While Hall now butMr. Betterton was not one of the most conspicuousguests; never a Supper party at my LadyCastlemaine's or my Lady Shrewsbury's but the famousActor was present there. He was constantly in thecompany of His Grace of Buckingham, of my LordRochester and others of those noble young Rakes;his name was constantly before the Public; he wasdaily to be seen on the Mall, or in St. James's Park,or at the more ceremonious parade in Hyde Park.His elegant clothes were the talk of every youngGallant that haunted Fop's Corner; his sallies werequoted by every Cavalier who strove for areputation as a wit. In fact, dear Lady, You know justas well as I do, that for that brief period of hislife Mr. Betterton became just one of the gay, idle,modish young Men about town, one of thathard-drinking, gambling, scandal-mongering crowd ofIdlers, who were none of them fit to tie the lacetsof his shoes.

I, who saw more and more of him in those days,knew, however, that all that gay, butterflyExistence which he led was only on the surface. To mehe was like some poor Animal stricken by a mortalwound, who, nevertheless, capers and gyratesbefore a grinning Public with mechanical movementsof the body that have nothing in common with the mind.

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Of the beautiful Lady Barbara I saw but littleduring the autumn.

There was much talk in the Town about herforthcoming Marriage to my Lord of Stour, which wasto take place soon after the New Year. Many werethe conjectures as to why so suitable a Marriagedid not take place immediately, and it seemedstrange that so humble and insignificant a Person asI was could even then have supplied the key to theriddle which was puzzling so many noble Ladiesand Gentlemen. I knew, in my humble capacity asSpectator of great events, that the Marriage wouldonly take place after the vast and treasonableprojects which had originated in my Lord DouglasWychwoode's turbulent mind had come to a successful issue.

I often confided to You, dear Mistress, in thosedays that Mr. Betterton, in the kindness of hisHeart, had made me many an offer to leave mypresent humdrum employment and to allow myselfto be attached to his Person as his private Secretaryand personal Friend. For a long time I refused hisoffers—tempting and generous though they were—chieflybecause if I had gone then to live withMr. Betterton, I should have been irretrievablyseparated from You. But in my Heart I knew that,though the great Man was not in pressing need of aSecretary, his soul did even long and yearn for aFriend. A more devoted one, I vow, did not existthan my humble self; and when, during the earlypart of the autumn, You, dear Mistress, finallydecided to leave your present uncomfortable quartersfor lodgings more befitting your growing Fame andyour Talents, there was nothing more to keep metied to my dour and unsympathetic Employer, andto his no less unpleasant Spouse.

I therefore gave Mr. Theophilus Baggs noticethat I had resolved to quit his Employ, hoping thatmy Decision would meet with his Convenience.

I could not help laughing to myself when I sawthe manner in which he received this Announcement.To say that he was surprised and indignantwould be to put it mildly; indeed, he used everyMode of persuasion to try and make me alter mydecision. He began by chiding me for an Ingrate,vowing that he had taught me all I knew and hadlavished Money and Luxuries upon me, and that Iwas proposing to leave him just when the time hadcome for him to see some slight return for hisExpenditure and for his pains, in my growingEfficiency. He went on to persuade, to cajole and tobribe, Mistress Euphrosine joining him both inVituperation and in Unctuousness. But, as Youknow, I was adamant. I knew the value of all thissoft-sawder and mouth-honour. I had suffered toomany Hardships and too many Indignities at thehands of these selfish Sycophants, to turn a deafear now that friendship and mine own futurehappiness called to me so insistently.

Finally, however, I yielded to the extent of agreeingto stay a further three months in the service ofMr. Baggs, whilst he took steps to find anotherClerk who would suit his purpose. But I onlyagreed to this on the condition that I was to beallowed a fuller amount of personal Freedom thanI had enjoyed hitherto; that I should not be set anylonger to do menial tasks, which properly pertainedto a Scullion; and that, whenever my clerical workfor the day was done, I should be at liberty toemploy my time as seemed best to me.

Thus it was that I had a certain amount of leisure,and after You left us, fair Mistress, I was able totake my walks abroad, there where I was fairlycertain of meeting You, or of having a glimpse ofMr. Betterton, surrounded by his brilliant Friends.

Often, dear Mistress, did You lavish some of yourprecious time and company upon the seedyAttorney's Clerk, who of a truth was not worthy to beseen walking in the Park or in Mulberry Gardensbeside the beautiful and famous Mistress Saunderson,who by this time had quite as many Followers andAdorers as any virtuous Woman could wish for.You never mentioned Mr. Betterton to me in thosedays, even though I knew that You must often havebeen thrown in his Company, both in the Theatreand in Society. That your love for him had notdied in your Heart, I knew from the wistful lookwhich was wont to come into your eyes wheneverYou chanced to meet him in the course of aPromenade. You always returned his respectful andelaborate bow on those occasions with coolComposure; but as soon as he had passed by and his rich,mellow Voice, so easily distinguishable amongstothers, had died away in the distance, I, who knewevery line of your lovely face, saw the familiarlook of Sorrow and of bitter Disappointment oncemore mar its perfect serenity.

4

We had an unusually mild and prolonged autumnthis past year, if you remember, fair Mistress; andtowards the end of October there were a few sunnydays which were the veritable aftermath ofSummer. The London Parks and Gardens werecrowded day after day with Ladies and Gallants,decked in their gayest attire, for the time to donwinter clothing still appeared remote.

I used to be fond of watching all these fair Ladiesand dazzling Cavaliers, and did so many a time onthose bright mornings whilst waiting to see Youpass. On one occasion I saw the Lady BarbaraWychwoode, in company with my Lord Stour.

Heaven knows I have no cause to think kindlyof her; but truth compels me to say that sheappeared to me more beautiful than ever before. Sheand his Lordship had found two chairs, up againsta tree, somewhat apart from the rest of the glitteringthrong. I, as a Spectator, could see that theywere supremely happy in one another's company.

"How sweet the air is!" she was sighingcontentedly. "More like spring than late autumn.Ah, me! How happily one could dream!"

She threw him a witching glance, which no doubtsent him straight to Heaven, for I heard him saywith passionate earnestness:

"Of what do Angels dream, my beloved?"

They continued to whisper, and I of course didnot catch all that they said. My Lord Stour wasobviously very deeply enamoured of the LadyBarbara. Because of this I seemed to hate and despisehim all the more. Oh! when the whole Worldsmiled on him, when Fortune and Destiny showeredtheir most precious gifts into his lap, what right hadhe to mar the soul which God had given him withsuch base Passions as Jealousy and Cruelty? Withhis monstrous Act of unwarrantable violence he hadruined the happiness of a Man greater, finer thanhimself; he had warped a noble disposition, soureda gentle and kindly spirit. Oh! I hated him! Ihated him! God forgive me, but I had not onespark of Christian spirit for him within my heart.If it lay in my power, I knew that I was ready todo him an Injury.

From time to time I heard snatches of hisimpassioned speeches. "Barbara, my beloved! Oh,God! how I love You!" Or else: "'Tis unspeakablejoy to look into your eyes, joyous madness tohold your little hand!" And more of such stuff,as Lovers know how to use.

And she, too, looked supremely happy. Therewas a sparkle in her eyes which spoke of a Soulintoxicated with delight. She listened to him as ifevery word from his lips was heaven-sent Mannato her hungering heart. And I marvelled why thisshould be; why she should listen to thisself-sufficient, empty-headed young Coxcomb and haverejected with such bitter scorn the suit of a Manworthy in every sense to be the Mate of a Queen.And I thought then of Mr. Betterton kneelinghumbly before her, his proud Head bent before thisignorant and wilful Girl, who had naught but cruelwords for him on her lips. And a great wrathpossessed me, greater than it ever had been before. Isuppose that I am very wicked and that the Devilof Revenge had really possessed himself of mySoul; but then and there, under the trees, with thetranslucent Dome of blue above me, I vowed bitterhatred against those two, vowed that Fate shouldbe even with them if I, the humble Clerk, couldhave a say in her decrees.

5

Just now, they were like two Children playing atlove. He was insistent and bold, tried to draw herto him, to kiss her in sight of the fashionable throngthat promenaded up and down the Avenue less thanfifty yards away.

"A murrain on the Conventions!" he said witha light laugh, as she chided him for his ardour."I want the whole Universe to be witness of my joy."

She placed her pretty hand playfully across his mouth.

"Hush, my dear Lord," she said with wonderfultenderness. "Heaven itself, they say, is oft timesjealous to see such Happiness as ours.... AndI am so happy..." she continued with a deepsigh, "so happy that sometimes a horriblepresentiment seems to grip my heart..."

"Presentiment of what, dear love?" he queried lightly.

I did not catch what she said in reply, for justat that moment I caught sight of Mr. Bettertonwalking at a distant point of the Avenue, in theCompany of a number of admiring Friends.

They were hanging round him, evidently vastlyamused by some witty sallies of his. Never had Iseen him look more striking and more brilliant.He wore a magnificent coat of steel-grey velvetwith richly embroidered waistcoat, and a cravat andfrills of diaphanous lace, whilst the satin breeches,silk stockings and be-ribboned shoes set off hisshapely limbs to perfection. His Grace ofBuckingham was walking beside him, and he had myLady Shrewsbury upon his arm, whilst among hisFriends I recognised my Lords Orrery andBuckhurst, and the Lord Chancellor himself.

The Lady Barbara caught sight of Mr. Betterton,too, I imagine, for as I moved away, I heard hersay in a curiously constrained voice:

"That man—my Lord—he is your deadly Enemy."

"Bah!" he retorted with a careless shrug of theshoulders. "Actors are like toothless, ill-temperedcurs. They bark, but they are powerless to bite!"

Oh, I hated him! Heavens above! how I hated him!

How puny and insignificant he was beside hisunsuccessful Rival should of a surety have beenapparent even to the Lady Barbara. Even now,Mr. Betterton, with a veritable crowd of Courtiersaround him, had come to a halt not very far fromwhere those two were sitting; and it was verycharacteristic of him that, even whilst the Duke ofBuckingham was whispering in his ear and the Countessof Shrewsbury was smiling archly at him, his eyeshaving found me, he nodded and waved his hand to me.

6

A minute or two later, another group of Ladiesand Gallants, amongst whom Her Grace theDuchess of York was conspicuous by her eleganceand the richness of her attire, literally swoopeddown upon Mr. Betterton and his Friends, and HerGrace's somewhat high-pitched voice came ringingshrilly to mine ear.

"Ah, Mr. Betterton!" she exclaimed. "Wherehave you hid yourself since yesterday, you wicked,adorable Man? And I, who wished to tell you howentirely splendid was your performance in thatsupremely dull play you call 'Love and Honour.' Youwere superb, Sir, positively superb! ... Iwas telling His Grace a moment ago that everyActor in the world is a mere Mountebank whencompared with Mr. Betterton's Genius."

And long did she continue in the same strain,most of the Ladies and Gentlemen agreeing withher and engaging in a chorus of Eulogy, all deliveredin high falsetto voices, which in the olden days,when first I knew him, would have set Mr. Betterton'svery teeth on edge. But now he took up theball of airy talk, tossed it back to the Ladies, bowedlow and kissed Her Grace's hand—I could see thatshe gave his a significant pressure—gave wit for witand flattery for flattery.

He had of a truth made a great success the daybefore in a play called "Love and Honour," writby Sir William Davenant, when His Majestyhimself lent his own Coronation Suit to the great Actor,so that he might worthily represent the part ofPrince Alvaro. This Success put the crowningGlory to his reputation, although in my humbleopinion it was unworthy of so great an Artist asMr. Betterton to speak the Epilogue which he hadhimself written in eulogy of the Countess ofCastlemaine, and which he delivered with such magnificentDiction at the end of the Play, that His Majestywaxed quite enthusiastic in his applause.

7

Standing somewhat apart from that dazzlinggroup, I noticed my Lord Douglas Wychwoode, inclose conversation with my Lord Teammouth andanother Gentleman, who was in clerical attire.After awhile, my Lord Stour joined them, theLady Barbara having apparently slipped away unobserved.

My Lord Stour was greeted by his friends withevery mark of cordiality.

"Ah!" the Cleric exclaimed, and extended bothhis hands—which were white and plump—to myLord. "Here is the truant at last!" Then hewaxed playful, put up an accusing finger and addedwith a smirking laugh: "Meseems I caught sightof a petticoat just behind those trees, where hisLordship himself had been apparently communingwith Nature, eh?"

Whereupon my Lord Teammouth went on, notunkindly and in that dogmatic way which he waspleased to affect: "Youth will ever smile, even inthe midst of dangers; and my Lord Stour is a greatfavourite with the Ladies."

Lord Douglas Wychwoode was as usual petulantand impatient, and rejoined angrily:

"Even the Castlemaine has tried to cast her netsaround him."

My Lord Stour demurred, but did not try todeny the soft impeachment.

"Only because I am new at Court," he said, "andhave no eyes for her beauty."

This, of course, was News to me. I am so littleversed in Court and Society gossip and had notheard the latest piece of scandal, which attributed tothe Lady Castlemaine a distinctpenchant for theyoung Nobleman. Not that it surprised mealtogether. The newly created Countess ofCastlemaine, who was receiving favours from HisMajesty the King with both hands, never hesitatedto deceive him, and even to render him ridiculousby flaunting her predilections for this or that youngGallant who happened to have captured herwayward fancy. My Lord Sandwich, Colonel Hamilton,the handsome Mr. Wycherley, and even such avulgar churl as Jacob Hill, the rope dancer, had all,at one time or another, been favoured with the lady'sfitful smiles, and while responding to her advanceswith the Ardour born of Cupidity or of a desire forself-advancement rather than of true love, they hadfor the most part lost some shreds of theirReputation and almost all of their Self-respect.

But at the moment I paid no heed to Lord Douglas'taunt levelled at his Friend, nor at the latter'ssomewhat careless way of Retort. In fact, thewhole Episode did not then impress itself upon mymind, and it was only in face of later events that Iwas presently to be reminded of it all.

8

For the moment I was made happy by renewedkindly glances from Mr. Betterton. It seemed asif his eyes had actually beckoned to me, so I madebold to advance nearer to the dazzling group ofLadies and Gentlemen that stood about,talking—jabbering, I might say, like a number ofgay-plumaged birds, for they seemed to me irresponsibleand unintellectual in their talk.

Of course, I could not hear everything, and Ihad to try and make my unfashionably attiredPerson as inconspicuous as possible. So I drew a bookfrom my pocket, one that looked something like aGreek Lexicon, though in truth it was a collectionof Plays writ by the late Mr. William Shakespeare,in one or two of which—notably in one called"Hamlett"—Mr. Betterton had scored some of hismost conspicuous Triumphs.

The book, and my seeming absorption in it, gaveme the countenance of an earnest young Studentintent on the perusal of Classics, even whilst itenabled me to draw quite near to the brilliantThrong of Distinguished People, who, if they paidany heed to me at all, would find excuses for myPresumption in my obvious earnest Studiousness.I was also able to keep some of my attention fixedupon Mr. Betterton, who was surrounded byadmiring Friends; whilst at some little distance close by,I could see Mr. Harris—also of the Duke's Theatre—whowas holding forth in a didactic mannerbefore a group of Ladies and gay young Sparks, eventhough they were inclined to mock him because ofhis Conceit in pitting his talent against that ofMr. Betterton.

There was no doubt that a couple of years agoMr. Harris could be, and was considered, thegreatest Actor of his time; but since Mr. Bettertonhad consolidated his own triumph by playing theparts ofPericles, ofHamlett and ofPrince Alvaroin "Love and Honour," the older Actor's reputationhad undoubtedly suffered by comparison withthe Genius of his younger Rival, at which of coursehe was greatly incensed. I caught sight now andthen of his florid face, so different in expression toMr. Betterton's more spiritual-looking countenance,and from time to time his pompous, raucous voicereached my ears, as did the more strident,high-pitched voices of the Ladies. I heard one youngLady say, to the accompaniment of some pretty,mincing gestures:

"Mr. Betterton was positively rapturous lastnight ... enchanting! You, Mr. Harris, will intruth have to look to your laurels."

And an elderly Lady, a Dowager of obviousconsideration and dignity, added in tones which brookedof no contradiction:

"My opinion is that there never has been or everwill be a Player equal to Mr. Betterton in Purityof Diction and Elegance of Gesture. He hath indeedraised our English Drama to the level of High Art."

I could have bowed low before her and kissedher hand for this; aye! and have paid homage, too,to all these gaily-dressed Butterflies who, in truth,had more Intellectuality in them than I had giventhem credit for. Every word of Eulogy of mybeloved Friend was a delight to my soul. I feltmine eyes glowing with enthusiasm and had gravedifficulty in keeping them fixed upon my book.

I had never liked Mr. Harris personally, for Iwas wont to think his conceit quite overweeningbeside the unalterable modesty of Mr. Betterton,who was so incomparably his Superior; and I wasindeed pleased to see that both the DowagerLady—who, I understood, was the Marchioness ofBadlesmere—and the younger Ladies and Gentlemen feltmischievously inclined to torment him.

"What is your opinion, Mr. Harris?" my LadyBadlesmere was saying to the discomfited Actor."It would be interesting to know one Player'sopinion of another."

She had a spy-glass, through which she regardedhim quizzically, whilst a mocking smile playedaround her thin lips. This, no doubt, caused poorMr. Harris to lose countenance, for as a rule he isvery glib of tongue. But just now he mouthed andstammered, appeared unable to find his words.

"It cannot be denied, your Ladyship," he begansententiously enough, "that Mr. Betterton'sgestures are smooth and pleasant, though they perhapslack the rhythmic grandeur ... the dignifiedsweep ... of ... of ... the..."

He was obviously floundering, and the old Ladybroke in with a rasping laugh and a tone ofsomewhat acid sarcasm.

"Of the gestures of Mr. Harris, you mean, eh?"

"No, Madam," he retorted testily, and distinctlynettled. "I was about to say 'of the gestures ofour greatest Actors.'"

"Surely the same thing, dear Mr. Harris," ayoung Lady rejoined with well-assumed demureness,and dropped him a pert little curtsey.

I might have been sorry for the Man—for of atruth these small pin-pricks must have been veryirritating to his Vanity, already sorely wounded bya younger Rival's triumph—but for the fact thathe then waxed malicious, angered no doubt byhearing a veritable Chorus of Eulogy proceeding fromthat other group of Ladies and Gentlemen of whichMr. Betterton was the centre.

I do not know, as a matter of fact, who it waswho first gave a spiteful turning to the bantering,mocking Conversation of awhile ago; but in mymind I attributed this malice to Lord DouglasWychwoode, who came up with his clerical friendjust about this time, in order to pay his respects tothe Marchioness of Badlesmere, who, I believe, isa near Relative of his. Certain it is that very soonafter his arrival upon the scene, I found that everyone around him was talking about the abominableEpisode, the very thought of which sent my bloodinto a Fever and my thoughts running a veritableriot of Revenge and of Hate. Of course,Mr. Harris was to the fore with pointed Allusions to thegrave Insult done to an eminent Artist, and which,to my thinking, should have been condemned byevery right-minded Man or Woman who had aspark of lofty feeling in his or her heart.

"Ah, yes!" one of the Ladies was saying; "Iheard about it at the time ... a vastly divertingstory...."

"Which went the round of the Court," added another.

"Mr. Betterton's shoulders," a gay young Sparkwent on airily, "are said to be still very sore."

"And his usually equable Temper the sorer of the two."

Lord Douglas did not say much, but I felt hisspiteful Influence running as an undercurrentthrough all that flippant talk.

"Faith!" concluded one of the young Gallants,"were I my Lord Stour, I would not care to haveMr. Betterton for an enemy."

"An Actor can hit with great accuracy andharshness from the Stage," Mr. Harris went onpompously. "He speaks words which a vast Publichears and goes on to repeatad infinitum. Thus aman's—aye! or a Lady's—reputation can be madeor marred by an Epilogue spoken by a popularPlayer at the end of a Drama. We all rememberthe case of Sir William Liscard, after he hadquarrelled with Mr. Kynaston."

Whereupon that old story was raked up, howMr. Kynaston had revenged himself for an insult uponhim by Sir William Liscard by making pointedAllusions from the Stage to the latter's secretintrigue with some low-class wench, and to thePunishment which was administered to him by thewench's vulgar lover. The Allusions wereunmistakable, because that punishment had taken the formof a slit nose, and old Sir William had appeared inSociety one day with a piece of sticking plasteracross the middle of his face.

Well, we all know what happened after that. SirWilliam, covered with Ridicule, had to leaveLondon for awhile and bury himself in the depths of theCountry, for, in Town he could not show his facein the streets but he was greeted with some vulgarlampoon or ribald song, hurled at him by passingroisterers. It all ended in a Tragedy, for LadyLiscard got to hear of it, and there was talk ofDivorce proceedings, which would have put SirWilliam wholly out of Court—His Majesty beingentirely averse to the dissolution of any legal Marriage.

But all this hath naught to do with my story, andI only recount the matter to You to show You how,in an instant, the temper of all these great Ladiesand Gentlemen can be swayed by the judicioushandling of an evil-minded Person.

All these Ladies and young Rakes, who awhileago were loud in their praises of a truly great Man,now found pleasure in throwing mud at him,ridiculing and mocking him shamefully, seeing that,had he been amongst them, he would soon haveconfounded them with his Wit and brought them backto Allegiance by his magic Personality.

Once again I heard a distinct Allusion to theCountess of Castlemaine's avowed predilection forLord Stour. It came from one of the Cavaliers,who said to Lord Douglas, with an affected little laugh:

"Perhaps my Lord Stour would do well to placehimself unreservedly under the protection of LadyCastlemaine! 'Tis said that she is more than willingto extend her Favours to him."

"Nay! Stour hath nothing to fear," Lord Douglasreplied curtly. "He stands far above a mereMountebank's spiteful pin-pricks."

Oh! had but God given me the power to strikesuch a Malapert dumb! I looked around me,marvelling if there was not one sane Person here whowould stand up in the defence of a great andtalented Artist against this jabbering of irresponsibleMonkeys.

9

I must admit, however, that directly Mr. Bettertonappeared upon the scene the tables were quicklyturned once more on Mr. Harris, and even on LordDouglas, for Mr. Betterton is past Master in theart of wordy Warfare, and, moreover, has this greatAdvantage, that he never loses control over hisTemper. No malicious shaft aimed at him will everruffle his Equanimity, and whilst his Wit is mostcaustic, he invariably retains every semblance ofperfect courtesy.

He now had the Duchess of York on his arm,and His Grace of Buckingham had not left his side.His Friends were unanimously chaffing him aboutthat Epilogue which he had spoken last night, andwhich had so delighted the Countess of Castlemaine.My Lord Buckhurst and Sir William Davenant werequoting pieces out of it, whilst I could only feelsorry that so great a Man had lent himself to suchunworthy Flattery.

"'Divinity, radiant as the stars!'" Lord Buckhurstquoted with a laugh. "By gad, you Rogue,you did not spare your words."

Mr. Betterton frowned almost imperceptibly, andI, his devoted Admirer, guessed that he was not alittle ashamed of the fulsome Adulation which hehad bestowed on so unworthy an Object, and I wasleft to marvel whether some hidden purpose as yetunknown to me had actuated so high-minded anArtist thus to debase the Art which he held so dear.It was evident, however, that the whole Companythought that great things would come from thatapparently trivial incident.

"My Lady Castlemaine," said Sir WilliamDavenant, "hath been wreathed in smiles ever since youspoke that Epilogue. She vows that there is nothingshe would not do for You. And, as already You aresuch a favourite with His Majesty, why, Man! thereis no end to your good fortune."

And I, who watched Mr. Betterton's face again,thought to detect a strange, mysterious look in hiseyes—something hidden and brooding was going onbehind that noble brow, something that wasaltogether strange to the usually simple, unaffected andsunny temperament of the great Artist, and whichI, his intimate Confidant and Friend, had not yetbeen able to fathom.

Whenever I looked at him these days, I wasconscious as of a sultry Summer's day, when nature isoutwardly calm and every leaf on every tree is still.It is only to those who are initiated in the mysteriesof the Skies that the distant oncoming Storm isrevealed by a mere speck of cloud or a tiny hazeupon the Bosom of the Firmament, which hath nomeaning to the unseeing eye, but which foretellsthat the great forces of Nature are gathering uptheir strength for the striking of a prodigious blow.

CHAPTER VII

AN ASSEMBLY OF TRAITORS

1

I, in the meanwhile, had relegated theremembrance of Lord Douglas Wychwoode and histreasonable Undertakings to a distant cell of mymind. I had not altogether forgotten them, buthad merely ceased to think upon the Subject.

I was still nominally in the employ of Mr. Baggs,but he had engaged a new Clerk—a wretched, punycreature, whom Mistress Euphrosine already held inbondage—and I was to leave his Service definitelyat the end of the month.

In the meanwhile, my chief task consisted ininitiating the aforesaid wretched and puny Clerkinto the intricacies of Mr. Theophilus Baggs'business. The boy was slow-witted and slow to learn,and Mr. Baggs, who would have liked to prove tome mine own Worthlessness, was neverthelessdriven into putting some of his more importantwork still in my charge.

Thus it came to pass that all his Correspondencewith Lord Douglas Wychwoode went through myHands, whereby I was made aware that the Traitors—forsuch in truth they were—were only waitingfor a favourable opportunity to accomplish theirdamnable Purpose.

They meant to kidnap His Majesty's sacredPerson, to force him to sign an Abdication in favourof the son of Mistress Barlow—now styled the Dukeof Monmouth—with the Prince of Orange asRegent during the Duke's minority.

A more abominable and treasonable Project itwere impossible to conceive, and many a wrestlingmatch did I have with mine own Conscience, whilstdebating whether it were my Duty or no to betraythe confidence which had been reposed in me, andto divulge the terrible Secret of that execrable plot,which threatened the very life of His Majesty the King.

I understood that the Manifestos which it hadbeen my task to multiplicate, had met with somesuccess. Several Gentlemen, who held rigidlyProtestant views, had promised their support to aproject which ostensibly aimed at the overthrow ofthe last vestiges of Popery in the Country. MyLord Stour, who had also become a firm Adherentof the nefarious scheme, in deference, I presume,to the Lady Barbara's wishes in the matter, had, itseems, rendered valuable service to the cause, bytravelling all over the Country, seeing theseproposed Adherents in person and distributing the fieryManifestos which were to rally the Waverers to thecause.

I imagined, however, that the whole project wasin abeyance for the moment, for I had heard butlittle of it of late; until one day I happened to bepresent when the Conspirators met in the house ofMr. Theophilus Baggs.

How it came to pass that these Gentlemen—whowere literally playing with their lives in theirnefarious undertaking—talked thus openly of theirPlans and Projects in my hearing, I do not pretendto say. It is certain that they did not suspect me;thought me one of themselves, no doubt, since Ihad written out the Manifestos and was Clerk toMr. Baggs, who was with them Body and Soul.No doubt, had Mr. Baggs been on the spot on thatday, he would have warned the Traitors of mypresence, and much of what happened subsequentlywould never have occurred.

Thus doth Fate at times use simple tools to gainher own ends, and it was given to an insignificantAttorney's Clerk to rule, for this one day, the futureDestinies of England.

2

My Lord Stour was present on that memorableafternoon. I am betraying no Secret nor doing himan injury by saying that, because his connectionwith the Affair is of public knowledge, as is that ofLord Douglas Wychwoode. The names of the otherGentlemen whom I saw in Mr. Baggs' room thatday I will, by your leave, keep hidden behind theveil of Anonymity, contenting myself by calling themost important among them my Lord S., andanother Sir J., whilst there was also present on thatoccasion the gentleman in clerical Attire whom Ihad seen of late in Lord Douglas' Company, andwho was none other than the Lord Bishop of D.

My Lord Stour was in great favour amongstthem all. Every one was praising him and shakinghim by the hand. His Lordship the Bishop took itupon himself to say, as he did most incisively:

"Gentlemen! I am proud and happy to affirmthat it is to the Earl of Stour that we shall oweto-night the Success of our Cause. It is he whohas distributed our Appeal and helped to rally roundus some of our most loyal Friends!"

Lord Stour demurred, deprecated his own efforts.His Attitude was both modest and firm; I had notthought him capable of so much Nobility of Manner.

But, believe me, dear Mistress, that I felt literallyconfounded by what I heard. Mr. Baggs, who hadpressing business in town that day, had commandedme to remain at home in order to receive certainGentlemen who were coming to visit him. I hadintroduced some half-dozen of them, and they hadall gone into the inner office, but left thecommunicating door between that room and the parlour wideopen, apparently quite acquiescing in my presencethere. In fact, they had all nodded very familiarlyto me as they entered; evidently they felt absolutelycertain of my Discretion. This, as you will readilyunderstand, placed me in a terrible Predicament.Where lay my duty, I did not know; for, in truth,to betray the Confidence of those who trust in Youis a mean and low trick, unworthy of a right-mindedChristian. At the same time, there was HisMajesty the King's own sacred Person in peril, andthat, as far as I could gather, on this very night;and surely it became equally the duty of every loyalSubject in the land to try and protect his Sovereignfrom the nefarious attacks of Traitors!

Be that as it may, however, I do verily believethat if my Lord—Stour whom I hated with sodeadly a hatred, and who had done my dear, dearFriend such an irreparable injury—if he, I say, hadnot been mixed up in the Affair, I should have donemy duty as a Christian rather than as a subject ofthe State.

But You, dear Mistress, shall be judge of mineactions, for they have a direct bearing upon thosesubsequent events which have brought Mr. Bettertononce again to your feet.

I have said that my Lord Stour received hisFriends' congratulations and gratitude withbecoming Modesty; but his Lordship the Bishop and alsoLord S. insisted.

"It is thanks to your efforts, my dear Stour,"Lord S. said, "that at last success is assured."

"But for you," added the Bishop, "our planto-night might have miscarried."

My God! I thought, then itis for to-night! AndI felt physically sick, whilst wondering what Ishould do. Even then, Lord Douglas Wychwoode'sharsh Voice came quite clearly to mine ear.

"The day is ours!" he said, with a note oftriumph in his tone. "Ere the sun rises again overour downtrodden Country, her dissolute King andhis Minions will be in our hands!"

"Pray God it may be so!" assented one of theothers piously.

"It shall and will be so," protested Lord Douglaswith firm emphasis. "I know for a fact that theKing sups with the Castlemaine to-night. Well! weare quite ready. By ten o'clock we shall havetaken up our Positions. These have all been mostcarefully thought out. Some of us will be in hidingin the Long Avenue in the Privy Garden; othersunder the shadow of the Wall of the BowlingGreen; whilst others again have secured excellentpoints of vantage in King Street. I am incommand of the Party, and I give you my word thatmy Company is made up of young Enthusiasts.They, like ourselves, have had enough of thiscorrupt and dissolute Monarch, who ought never tohave been allowed to ascend the Throne which hisFather had already debased."

"You will have to be careful of the Night Watchmenabout the Gardens, and of the Bodyguard atthe Gate," one of the Gentlemen broke in.

"Of course we'll be careful," Lord Douglasriposted impatiently. "We have minimized ourrisks as far as we are able. But the King, when hesups with the Castlemaine, usually goes across to herHouse unattended. Sometimes he takes a Man withhim across the Privy Gardens, but dismisses himat the back door of Her Ladyship's House. As forthe City Watchmen over in King Street, they willgive us no trouble. If they do, we can easilyoverpower them. The whole thing is really perfectlysimple," he added finally; "and the only reason whywe have delayed execution is because we wanted asmany Sympathizers here in London as possible."

"Now," here interposed His Lordship the Bishop,"thanks to my Lord Stour's efforts, a number ofour Adherents have come up from the country andhave obtained lodgings in various Quarters of thetown, so that to-morrow morning, when weproclaim the Duke of Monmouth King and the Princeof Orange Regent of the Realm, we shall be insufficient numbers to give to our successful Coupthe appearance of a national movement."

"Personally," rejoined Lord Douglas, withsomething of a sneer, "I think that the Populace will bevery easily swayed. The Castlemaine is not popular.The King is; but it is a factitious Popularity, andone easily blown upon, once we have his Personsafely out of the way. And we must rememberthat the 'No Popery' cry is still a very safecard to play with the mob," he added with a dry laugh.

Then they all fell to and discussed theirabominable Plans all over again; whilst I, bewildered,wretched, indignant, fell on my knees and marvelled,pondered what I should do. My pulses were throbbing,my head was on fire; I had not the faculty forclear thinking. And there, in the next room, notten paces away from where I knelt in mute andagonized Prayer, six Men were planning an outrageagainst their King; amidst sneers and mirthlesslaughter and protestations of loyalty to theirCountry, they planned the work of Traitors. They drewtheir Swords and there was talk of invoking God'sblessing upon their nefarious Work.

God's blessing! Methought 'twas Blasphemy, andI put my hands up to mine ears lest I should hearthose solemn words spoken by a consecrated Bishopof our Church, and which called for the Almighty'shelp to accomplish a second Regicide.

Aye! A Regicide! What else was it? as allthose fine Gentlemen knew well enough in theirhearts. Would not the King resist? He was youngand vigorous. Would he not call for help? Hadnot my Lady Castlemaine Servants who would rushto His Majesty's assistance? What then? Wasthere to be murder once more, and bloodshed andrioting—fighting such as we poor Citizens of thistortured land had hoped was behind us forever?

And if it came to a hand-to-hand scuffle with theKing's most Sacred Majesty? My God! I shudderedto think what would happen then!

There was a mighty humming in my ears, likethe swarm of myriads of bees; a red veil graduallyspread before my eyes, which obscured the familiarSurroundings about me. Through the haze whichgradually o'er-clouded my brain, I heard the voicesof those Traitors droning out their blasphemous Oaths.

"Swear only to draw your swords in this justcause, and not to shed unnecessary blood!"

And then a chorus which to my ears sounded likethe howling of Evil Spirits let loose from hell:

"We swear!"

"Then may God's blessing rest upon You. MayHis Angels guard and protect You and give Youthe strength to accomplish what You purpose to do!"

There was a loud and prolonged "Amen!" ButI waited no longer. I rose from my knees, suddenlycalm and resolved. Do not laugh at me, dearMistress, for my conceit and my presumption when Isay that I felt that the destinies of England restedin my hands.

Another Regicide! Oh, my God! Another eraof civil Strife and military Dictatorship such as wehad endured in the past decade! Another era ofSuspicions and Jealousies and Intrigues between themany Factions who would wish to profit by thisabominable crime! It was unthinkable. Whetherthe King was God's Anointed or not, I, for one, amtoo ignorant to decide; but this I know, that theStuart Prince was chosen little more than a yearago by the will of his People, that he returned toEngland acclaimed and beloved by this same Populacewhich was now to be egged on to treason againsthim by a handful of ambitious Malcontents, whodid not themselves know what it was they wanted.

No! It should not be! Not while there existedan humble and puny subject of this Realm who hadit in his power to put a spoke in the wheel of thatChariot of Traitors.

Ah! there was no more wavering in my heartnow! no more doubts and hesitation! I would notbe betraying the confidence of a trusting Man;merely disposing of a secret which Chance hadtossed carelessly in my path—a Secret whichpertained to abominable Miscreants, one of whom wasthe man whom I detested more than any one oranything on God's earth—a flippant, arrogant youngReprobate who had dared to level a deadly insultagainst a Man infinitely his superior in Intellect andin Worth, and before whom now he should be madeto lick the dust of Ignominy.

I was now perfectly calm. From my desk I tooka copy of the Manifesto which had remained in mypossession all this while. I read the contents throughvery carefully, so as to refresh my memory. ThenI took up my pen and, at the foot of the treasonabledocument, I wrote the word: "To-night." Havingdone that, I took a sheet of notepaper andcarefully wrote down the names of all the Gentlemenwho were even now in the next room, and of severalothers whom I had heard mentioned by the Traitorsin the course of their Conversation. The twopapers I folded carefully and closed them down withsealing wax.

My hand did not shake whilst I did all this. Iwas perfectly deliberate, for my mind wasirrevocably made up. When I had completed thesepreparations, I slipped the precious Documents intomy pocket, took up my hat and cloak, and went outto accomplish the Errand which I had set myself to do.

CHAPTER VIII

THE LION'S WRATH

1

His Majesty the King was, of course, inaccessibleto such as I. And the time was short.

Did I say that the hour was even then after six?The streets were very dark, for overhead the skywas overcast, and as I walked rapidly down theLane to the Temple Stairs, a thin, penetratingdrizzle began to fall.

My first thought had been to take boat to Westminsterand to go to the house of Mr. Betterton inTothill Street, there to consult with him as to whatwould be my best course to pursue. But I feel surethat You, dear Mistress, will understand me when Isay that I felt a certain pride in keeping my presentProject to myself.

I was not egotistical enough to persuade myselfthat love of Country and loyalty to my King werethe sole motive powers of my Resolve. My innermostHeart, my Conscience perhaps, told me that anugly Desire for Revenge had helped to stimulate mypatriotic Ardour. I had realized that it lay in mypower to avenge upon an impious Malapert thehideous Outrage which he had perpetrated againstthe Man whom I loved best in all the World.

I had realized, in fact, that I could become theinstrument of Mr. Betterton's revenge.

That my Denunciation of the abominableConspiracy would involve the Disgrace—probably theDeath—of others who were nothing to me, I didnot pause to consider. They were all Traitors,anyhow, and all of them deserving of punishment.

So, on the whole, I decided to act for myself.When I had seen the Countess of Castlemaine andhad put her on her guard, I would go to Mr. Bettertonand tell him what I had done.

I beg you to believe, however, dear Mistress, thatno thought of any reward had entered my mind,other than a Word of Appreciation from my Friend.

2

I had, as perhaps you know, a slight acquaintancewith Mistress Floid, who is one of my Lady Castlemaine'stire-women. Through her, I obtainedspeech with her Ladyship.

It was not very difficult. I sent in the twoDocuments through Mistress Floid's hands. Fiveminutes later I was told that my Lady desired speechwith me.

I was a little bewildered and somewhat dazzledto be in the presence of so great a lady. Therichness of the House, the liveries of the Servants, thesuperciliousness of the Lacqueys, all tended todiscompose me; whilst the subtle Scent of Spice andPerfumes which hung in the air and the chorus ofbird-song which came from an unseen Aviary,helped to numb my Senses. I was thankful that Ihad not trusted to Speech and Memory, but had setdocumentary Evidence forward to prove what Ihad to say.

Of my interview with her Ladyship I have onlya confused memory. I know that she asked manyquestions and listened to my stammering replieswith obvious impatience; but I have only a veryvague recollection of her flashing Eyes, of her Face,flaming with anger, of her jewelled Hand clutchingthe documents which I had brought, and of thetorrent of vituperative abuse which she poured uponthe Traitors, who she vowed would pay with theirlives for their Infamy. I know that, in the end, Iwas allowed to kiss her hand and that she thankedme in her own Name and that of His Majesty formy Loyalty and my Discretion.

I went out of the room and out of the house likea Man in a dream. A whirl of conflicting Emotionswas rending my heart and my brain, until sheerphysical nausea caused me nigh to swoon.

Truly it was a terrible Experience for a simple-mindedClerk to go through, and it is a marvel tome that my brain did not give way under the Strain.

But my instinct—like that of a faithful dogseeking shelter—led me to the lodgings of Mr. Bettertonin Tothill Street, the very house in which hisfather had lived before him.

He had not yet returned from the Theatre, wherehe was at Rehearsal; but his Servant knew me welland allowed me to go up into the parlour and to liedown upon the sofa for a moment's rest.

It was then nearing seven, and I knew thatMr. Betterton would soon be coming home. I nowfelt infinitely weary; numbness of body and brainhad followed the conflicting Emotions of the pasthours, and I was only conscious of an overwhelmingdesire to rest.

I closed my eyes. The place was warm and still;a veritable Haven of Quietude. And it was theplace where dwelt the Man for whose sake I hadjust done so much. For awhile I watched the playof the firelight upon the various articles offurniture in the room; but soon a pleasing Torporinvaded my tired Brain, and I fell asleep.

3

The sound of Voices upon the landing outside, theopening and closing of one door and then another,recalled me to myself. The familiar sound of myFriend's footsteps gave me an infinity of Pleasure.

The next moment Mr. Betterton came into theroom. He was preceded by his Servant, whobrought in a couple of Candles which he placed uponthe table. Apparently he had said nothing to hisMaster about my presence here, for Mr. Bettertonseemed vastly surprised when he saw me. I hadjust jumped to my feet when I heard him enteringthe room, and I suppose that I must have lookedsomewhat wild and dishevelled, for he expressedgreat astonishment at my Appearance.

Astonishment, and also Pleasure.

"Why, friend Honeywood!" he exclaimed, andcame to greet me with both hands outstretched."What favourable Wind hath blown you to this port?"

He looked tired and very much aged, methought.He, a young Man, then in the prime of Life, lookedharassed and weary; all the Elasticity seemed tohave gone out of his Movements, all the Springinessfrom his Footstep. He sat down and rested hiselbows on his knees, clasped his slender handstogether and stared moodily into the fire.

I watched him for awhile. His clear-cut Profilewas outlined like an Italian Cameo against thedark angle of the room; the firelight gave a strangeglow to his expressive Eyes and to the sensitiveMouth with the firm lips pressed closely together,as if they would hold some Secret which was eventhen threatening to escape.

That look of dark and introspective Brooding satmore apparent now than ever upon his mobileface, and I marvelled if the News which I was aboutto impart would tend to dissipate that restless,searching glance, which seemed for ever to beprobing into the future decrees of Fate.

"I have come to tell you news, Sir," I said aftera while.

He started as from a Reverie, and said half-absently:

"News? What news, friend? Good, I hope."

"Yes," I replied very quietly, even though I feltthat my heart was beating fast within my breastwith excitement. "Good news of the Man You hate."

He made no reply for the moment, and even bythe dim, uncertain light of the fire I could see thequick change in his face. I cannot explain it exactly,but it seemed as if something Evil had swept overit, changing every noble line into something that wasalmost repellent.

My heart beat faster still. I was beginning tofeel afraid and a queer, choking Sensation grippedme by the throat and silenced the Words which werestruggling to come to my lips.

"Well?" queried Mr. Betterton a second or twolater, in a calm, dull, unemotional Voice. "What isthy news, friend Honeywood?"

"There is a plot," I replied, still speaking with aneffort, "against His Majesty and the Countess ofCastlemaine."

"I knew that," he rejoined. "'Tis no news.There is more than one plot, in fact, against theKing and the Castlemaine. You surely haven'tcome out on this wet night," he added with amirthless laugh, "in order to tell me that!"

After all that I had gone through, after my tusslewith my conscience and my fight against myself, Ifelt nettled by his flippant tone.

"I know not," I said firmly, "if there is morethan one plot against His Majesty the King. But Ido know that there is one which aims at striking athis sacred Person to-night."

"That also is possible," he retorted, with still thatsame air of flippant Carelessness. "But even so, Ido not see, my dear Friend, what You can do inthe matter."

"I can denounce the Plot," I riposted warmly,"and help to save the life of His Majesty the King."

"So you can, my dear Honeywood," he said witha smile, amused at my vehemence. "So you can!And upon the King's gratitude you may lay thefoundations of your future Fortune."

"I was not thinking of a Fortune," I retortedgruffly; "only of Revenge."

At this he looked up suddenly, leaned forwardand in the firelight tried to read my face.

"Revenge?" he queried curtly. "What do you mean?"

"I mean," I replied earnestly, "that the Plot ofwhich I speak is real, tangible and damnable. Thata set of young Gallants have arranged betweenthemselves to waylay His Majesty the King this nightin the house of the Countess of Castlemaine, tokidnap his sacred person, force him to abdicate, thenproclaim the Duke of Monmouth King and thePrince of Orange Regent of the Realm."

"How do you know all this, Honeywood?" Mr. Bettertonrejoined quietly, dragged, meseemed, outof his former Cynicism by the earnestness of mymanner.

"I was one of the first to know of it," I replied,"because on a certain day in September I wasemployed in copying the Manifesto wherewith thatpack of Traitors hoped to rally distant Friendsaround their Standard. For awhile I heard nothingmore of the Affair, thought the whole thing hadsizzled out like a fire devoid of fuel; until to-day,when the Conspirators once more met in the houseof Mr. Theophilus Baggs and arranged to carrytheir execrable Project through to-night. Carelessof my presence, they planned and discussed theirAffairs in my hearing. They thought, I suppose,that I, like Mr. Baggs, was one of their Gang."

Gradually, while I spoke, I could see the Dawnof Comprehension illumining Mr. Betterton's face.He still was silent, and let me speak on to the end.He was once more gazing into the fire; his armswere resting on his knees, but his hands were beatingone against the other, fist to palm, with a violent,intermittent Gesture, which proclaimed his growingImpatience.

Then suddenly he raised his head, looked me oncemore straight in the eyes, and said slowly, reiteratingsome of my words:

"The Conspirators met in the house of Mr. TheophilusBaggs—then—he——"

I nodded.

"My Lord Stour," I said, deliberately measuringmy words, "is up to his neck in the damnableConspiracy."

Still his searching gaze was fixed upon me; andnow he put out his hand and clutched my forearm.But he did not speak.

"I was burning with rage," I said, "at the insultput upon you by my Lord Stour ... I longed tobe revenged..."

His clutch upon my arm tightened till it felt likea Vice of Steel, and his Voice came to my ear,hoarse and almost unrecognizable.

"Honeywood," he murmured, "what do Youmean? What have You done?"

I tried to return his gaze, but it seemed to searmy very Soul. Terror held me now. I scarcecould speak. My voice came out in a husky whisper.

"I had the copy of the Manifesto," I said, "andI knew the names of the Conspirators. I wrotethese out and placed them with the Manifesto inthe hands of my Lady Castlemaine."

Dear Mistress, you know the beautiful picture bythe great Italian artist Michael Angelo whichrepresents Jove hurling his thunderbolt at some punyhuman Creature who hath dared to defy him. Theflash of Anger expressed by the Artist in the mightygod's eyes is truly terrifying. Well! that sameExpression of unbounded and prodigious Wrathflashed out in one instant from the great Actor'seyes. He jumped to his feet, towered above me likesome Giant whom I, in my presumption, had daredto defy. The flickering candle light, warring withthe fireglow, and its play of ruddy Lights and deepphantasmagoric Shadows, lent size and weirdnessto Mr. Betterton's figure and enhanced the dignityand magnitude of his Presence. His lips wereworking, and I could see that he had thegreatest difficulty in forcing himself to speakcoherently.

"You have done that?" he stammered. "You...?"

"To avenge the deadly insult——" I murmured,frightened to death now by his violence.

"Silence, you fool!" he riposted hoarsely. "Isit given to the Mouse to avenge the hurt done tothe Lion?"

I guessed how deeply he was moved by theseWords which he spoke, more even than by hisAttitude. Never, had he been in his normal frame ofmind, would he have said them, knowing how theircruel intent would hurt and wound me.

He was angry with me. Very angry. And I,as yet, was too ignorant, too unsophisticated, toknow in what way I had injured him. God knowsit had been done unwittingly. And I could notunderstand what went on in that noble and obviouslytortured Brain. I could only sit there and gaze uponhim in helpless Bewilderment, as he now started topace up and down the narrow room in very truthlike a caged Lion that hath been teased till it canendure the irritation no longer.

"You are angry with me?" I contrived to stammerat last; and indeed I found much difficulty inkeeping the tears which were welling up to mine eyes.

But my timid query only appeared to have theeffect of bringing his Exasperation to its highestpitch. He did in truth turn on me as if he wereready to strike me, and I slid down on my Knees,for I felt now really frightened, as his fine voicesmote mine ears in thunderous Accents of unbridled Wrath.

"Angry?" he exclaimed. "Angry...? I..."

Then he paused abruptly, for he had caught sightof me, kneeling there, an humble and, I doubt not,a pathetic Figure; and, as you know, Mr. Betterton'sheart is ever full of Pity for the Lowly and theWeak. By the flickering candle light I coulddistinguish his noble Features, a moment ago almostdistorted with Passion, but now, all of a sudden,illumined by tender Sympathy.

He pulled himself together. I almost could seethe Effort of Will wherewith he curbed thatturbulent Passion which had threatened to overmasterhim. He passed his hand once or twice across hisbrow, as if he strove to chase away, by sheerphysical Force, the last vestige of his own Anger.

"No—no——," he murmured gently, bent downto me and helped me to my feet. "No, my dearFriend; I am not angry with You ... I—Iforgot myself just now ... something seemed tosnap in my Brain when you told me that... When you told me that——" he reiterated slowly;then threw back his head and broke into a laugh.Oh! such a laugh as I never wish to hear again.It was not only mirthless, but the Sound of it didrend my heart until the tears came back to mineeyes; but this time through an overwhelming feelingof Pity.

And yet I did not understand. Neither his Angernor his obvious Despair were clear to myComprehension. I hoped he would soon explain, feelingthat if he spoke of it, it would ease his heartache.Mine was almost unendurable. I felt that I couldcry like a child, Remorse warring with Anxietyin my heart.

Then suddenly Mr. Betterton came close to me,sat down on the sofa beside me and said, with aRecrudescence of his former Vehemence:

"Friend Honeywood, you must go straightwayback to my Lady Castlemaine."

"Yes," I replied meekly, for I was ready to doanything that he desired.

"Either to my Lady Castlemaine," he went on,his voice trembling with agitation, "or to her menialfirst, but ultimately to my Lady Castlemaine. Goon your hands and knees, Honeywood; crawl,supplicate, lick the dust, swear that the Conspiracy hadno existence save in your own disordered brain... that the Manifesto is a forgery ... the list ofConspirators a fictitious one ... swear above allthat my Lord Stour had no part in the murderousPlot——"

I would, dear Lady, that mine was the pen of aready Writer, so that I might give you a clear ideaof Mr. Betterton's strange aspect at that moment.His face was close to mine, yet he did not seem likehimself. You know how serene and calm is theGlance of his Eyes as a rule. Well! just then theywere strangely luminous and restless; there was aglitter in them, a weird, pale Light that I cannotdescribe, but which struck me as coming from aBrain that, for the moment, was almost bereftof Reason.

That he was not thinking coherently was obviousto me from what he said. I, who was ready andprepared to do anything that might atone for theInjury, as yet inexplicable, which I had so unwittinglydone to him, felt, nevertheless, the entireFutility of his Suggestion. Indeed, was it likely thatmy Lady Castlemaine's Suspicions, once roused,could so easily be allayed? Whatever I told hernow, she would of a surety warn the King—haddone so, no doubt, already. Measures would betaken—had already been taken—to trap theinfamous Plotters, to catch them red-handed in theAct; if indeed they were guilty. Nay! I could notvery well imagine how such great Personages wouldact under the Circumstances that had come about.But this much I did know; that not one of themwould be swayed by the Vagaries of a puny Clerk,who had taken it upon himself to denounce a numberof noble Gentlemen for Treason one moment andendeavoured to exonerate them the next. So Icould only shake my head and murmur:

"Alas, Sir! all that now would be too late."

He looked at me searchingly for a second or two.The strange glitter died out from his eyes, and hegave a deep sigh of weariness and of disappointment.

"Aye!" he said. "True! true! It is all too late!"

Imagine, dear Mistress, how puzzled I was.What would You have thought of it all, yourself,had your sweet Spirit been present then at that hour,when a truly good, yet deeply injured Man baredhis Soul before his Friend?

Just for a second or two the Suspicion flashedthrough my mind that Mr. Betterton himself wasin some secret and unaccountable manner mixed upwith the abominable Conspiracy. But almost atonce my saner Judgment rejected this villainousSuggestion; for of a truth it had no foundationsave in Foolishness engendered by a bewilderedbrain. In truth, I had never seen Mr. Bettertonin the Company of any of those Traitors whosenames were indelibly graven upon the tablets of myMemory, save on that one occasion—that unforgettableafternoon in September, when he entered thehouse of Mr. Theophilus Baggs at the hour whenLord Douglas Wychwoode had just entrusted hisManifesto to me. What was said then and whathappened afterwards should, God help me! haveconvinced me that no sort of intimate Connection,political or otherwise, could ever exist between myLord Stour, Lord Douglas Wychwoode or theirFriends, and Mr. Betterton.

4

Even while all these Thoughts and Conjectureswere coursing through my brain, my innermostConsciousness kept my attention fixed upon my friend.

He had once more resumed his restless pacing upand down the narrow room. His slender handswere closely linked together behind his back, andat times he strode quite close to me, so close thatthe skirts of his fashionably cut coat brushed againstmy knee. From time to time disconnected Phrasescame to his lips. He was talking to himself, a thingwhich I had never known him do before.

"I, who wished to return Taunt for Taunt andInfamy for Infamy!" he said at one time. And atanother: "To-day ... in a few hours perhaps,that young Coxcomb will be in the Tower... and then the Scaffold!"

I listened as attentively as I could, withoutseeming to do so, thinking that, if I only caught moreof these confused Mutterings, the Puzzle, such as itwas, would become more clear to me. Picture thetwo of us then, dear Mistress, in the semi-darkness,with only fitful candle light to bring into occasionalbold relief the fine Figure of the great Actor pacingup and down like a restless and tortured Beast; andmine own meagre Form cowering in an angle ofthe sofa, straining mine ears to catch every syllablethat came from my Friend's lips, and mine eyes tonote every Change of his Countenance.

"She will think 'twas I who spied upon him," Iheard him say quite distinctly through his clenchedteeth. "I who betrayed him, her Friends, herBrother."

"He will die a Martyr to the cause she loves,"he murmured a few moments later. "A Hero tohis friends—toher a demi-god whose Memory shewill worship."

Then he paused, and added in a loud and firmvoice, apostrophizing, God knows what Spirits ofHate and of Vengeance whom he had summoned:

"Andthat is to be my Revenge for the deadliestInsult Man ever put upon Man! ... Ha! ha! ha! ha!"he laughed, with weird Incontinence. "Godabove us, save me from my Friends and let me dealalone with mine Enemies!"

He fell back into the nearest chair and, restinghis elbows on his knees, he pressed his foreheadagainst his clenched fists. I stared at him, mute,dumbfounded. For now I understood. I knewwhat I had done, knew what he desired, what hehad striven for and planned all these past wearyweeks. His Hopes, his Desires, I had frustrated.I, his Friend, who would have given my Life forhis welfare!

I had been heart-broken before. I was doublyso now. I slid from the sofa once more on myknees and, not daring to touch him, I just remainedthere, sobbing and moaning in helpless Dejectionand Remorse.

"What can I do?—what can I do?"

He looked at me, obviously dazed, had apparentlybecome quite oblivious of my presence. Once morethat look of tender Commiseration came into hiseyes, and he said with a gently ironical smile:

"You? Poor little, feeble Mouse, who hasgnawed at the Giant's prey—what can you do?... Why, nothing. Go back to our mutualFriend, Mr. Theophilus Baggs, and tell him to makehis way—and quickly too—to some obscure cornerof the Country, for he also is up to the neck in thatdamnable Conspiracy."

This set my mind to a fresh train of thought.

"Shall I to my Lord Stour by the same token?"I asked eagerly.

"To my Lord Stour?" he queried, with a puzzledfrown. "What for?"

"To warn him," I replied. "Give him a chanceof escape. I could tell him you sent me," I addedtentatively.

He laughed.

"No, no, my Friend," he said drily. "We'll notquite go to that length. Give him a chance ofEscape?" he reiterated. "And tell him I sentYou? No, no! He would only look upon mysupposed Magnanimity as a sign of cringing Humility,Obsequiousness and Terror of further Reprisals.No, no, my Friend; I'll not give the gay youngSpark another chance of insulting me.... Butlet me think ... let me think ... Oh, if onlyI had a few days before me, instead of a mere fewhours! ... And if only my Lady Castlemaine..."

He paused, and I broke in on the impulse of themoment.

"Oh, Sir! hath not the Countess of Castlemainevowed often of late that she would grant any Favourthat the great Mr. Betterton would ask of her?"

No sooner were the words out of my mouth thanI regretted them. It must have been Instinct, forthey seemed innocent enough at the time. My onlythought in uttering them was to suggest that atMr. Betterton's request the Traitors would be pardoned.My Lady Castlemaine in those days held the Kingwholly under her Domination. And I still believedthat my Friend desired nothing so much at thismoment than that my Lord Stour should not die aHero's death—a Martyr to the cause which thebeautiful Lady Barbara had at heart.

But since that hour, whenever I have lookedback upon the Sequence of Events which followedon my impulsive Utterance, I could not help butthink that Destiny had put the words into my mouth.She had need of me as her tool. What had to be,had to be. You, dear Mistress, can now judgewhether Mr. Betterton is still worthy of your Love,whether he is still worthy to be taken back into yourheart. For verily my words did make the turningpoint in the workings of his Soul. But I shouldnever have dared to tell you all that happened, faceto face, and I desired to speak of the matterimpartially. Therefore I chose the medium of a pen,so that I might make You understand and,understanding, be ready to forgive.

CHAPTER IX

A LAST CHANCE

1

Of course, what happened subsequently, I canonly tell for the most part from what Mr. Bettertontold me himself, and also from one or two factsrevealed to me by Mistress Floid.

At the moment, Mr. Betterton commended mefor my Suggestion, rested his hand with all hisformer affectionate Manner upon my shoulder, andsaid quite simply:

"I thank you, friend, for reminding me of this.My Lady Castlemaine did indeed last night intimateto me that she felt ready to grant any Favour Imight ask of her. Well! I will not put herMagnanimity to an over severe test. Come with me,friend Honeywood. We'll to her Ladyship. Therewill be plenty of time after that to go and warn thatworthy Mr. Baggs and my equally worthy Sister.I should not like them to end their days upon theScaffold. So heroic an ending doth not seemsuitable to their drabby Existence, and would war withall preconceived Dramatic Values."

He then called to his man and ordered a coupleof linkmen to be in readiness to guide us through theStreets, as these were far from safe for peacefulPedestrians after dark! Then he demanded his hatand cloak, and a minute or so later he bade mefollow him, and together we went out of the house.

2

It was now raining heavily, and we wrapped ourCloaks tightly round our Shoulders, speeding alongas fast as we could. The streets were almostdeserted and as dreary as London streets alone can beon a November evening. Only from the closedWindows of an occasional Tavern or Coffee-housedid a few rays of bright light fall across the road,throwing a vivid bar of brilliance athwart our way,and turning the hundreds of Puddles into shiningreflections, like so many glimmering Stars.

For the rest, we were dependent on the linkmen,who walked ahead of us, swinging their Lanternsfor Guidance on our path. Being somewhat timidby nature, I had noted with satisfaction that theyboth carried stout Cudgels, for of a truth there weremany Marauders about on dark nights such as this,Footpads and Highway Robbers, not to mentionthose bands of young Rakes, who found pleasure in"scouring" the streets o' nights and molesting thebelated Wayfarer.

Mr. Betterton, too, carried a weighted stick, andhe was a Man whom clean, sturdy living hadrendered both athletic and powerful. We were soon,both of us, wet to the Skin, but Mr. Bettertonappeared quite oblivious of discomfort. He walkedwith a quick step, and I perforce had to keep upwith him as best I could.

He had told me, before we started out, that hewas bent for my Lady Castlemaine's House, therear of which looks down upon the Gardens ofWhite Hall. I knew the way thither just as well ashe did. Great was my astonishment, therefore,when having reached the bottom of King Street,when we should have turned our steps northwards,Mr. Betterton suddenly ordered the linkmen toproceed through Palace Yard in the direction ofWestminster Stairs.

I thought that he was suffering from a fit ofabsent-mindedness, which was easily understandableon account of his agitated Frame of Mind; andpresently I called his attention to his mistake. He paidno heed to me, however, and continued to walk onuntil we were some way up Canon's Row.

Here he called to his linkmen to halt, and himselfpaused; then caught hold of my cloak, and draggedme under the shelter of a great gateway belonging toone of those noble Mansions which front the River.And he said to me, in a strange and peremptoryVoice, hardly raised above a Whisper:

"Do You know where we are, Honeywood?"

"Yes," I said, not a little surprised at thequestion. "We are at the South End of Canon's Row.I know this part very well, having often——"

"Very well, then," he broke in, still in the sameimperious Manner. "You know that we are underthe gateway belonging to the Town Mansion of theEarl of Stour, and that the house is some twentyyards up the fore-court."

"I know the house," I replied, "now you mention it."

"Then you will go to my Lord Stour now,Honeywood," my Friend went on.

"To warn him?" I queried eagerly, for of atruth I was struck with Admiration at this excessof Magnanimity on the part of an injured Man.

"No," Mr. Betterton replied curtly. "You willgo to my Lord Stour as my Friend and Intermediary.You will tell him that I sent You,because I desire to know if he hath changed his mind,and if he is ready to give me Satisfaction for theInsult, which he put upon me nigh on two months ago."

I could not restrain a gasp of surprise.

"But——" I stammered.

"You are not going to play me false,Honeywood," he said simply.

That I swore I would not do. Indeed, he knewwell enough that if he commanded me to go tothe outermost ends of the Earth on his errand, orto hold parley with the Devil on his behalf, Iwould have been eager and ready to do it.

But I must confess that at this moment I wouldsooner have parleyed with the Devil than with theEarl of Stour. The Man whom I had denounced,You understand. I felt that the shadow ofDeath—conjured by me, menacing and unevasive—wouldperhaps lie 'twixt him and me whilst I spoke withhim. Yet how could I demur when my Friendbesought me?—my Friend, who was gravely troubledbecause of me.

I promised that I would do as he wished. Whereuponhe gave me full instructions. Never hadso strange a task been put upon a simple-mindedPlebeian: for these were matters pertaining toGentlemen. I knew less than nothing of Duels,Affairs of Honour, or such like; yet here wasI—John Honeywood, an humble Attorney's Clerk—sentto convey a challenge for a Duel to a high andnoble Lord, in the manner most approved byTradition.

I was ready to swoon with Fright; for, in truth,I am naught but a timid Rustic. In spite of the coldand the rain I felt a rush of hot blood coursing upand down my Spine. But I learned my Lesson fromend to end, and having mastered it, I did not waver.

Leaving Mr. Betterton under the shelter of thegateway, I boldly crossed the fore-court andmounted the couple of steps which led up to thefront door of the Mansion. The fore-court and thefront of the House were very dark, and I was nota little afraid of Night Prowlers, who, they do say,haunt the immediate Purlieus of these statelyAbodes of the Nobility, ready to fall upon anybelated Visitor who might be foolish enough toventure out alone.

Indeed, everything around me was so still andseemed so desolate that an Access of Fear seizedme, whilst I vainly tried to grope for the bell-handlein the Darkness. I very nearly gave way to myCowardice then and there, and would have run backto my Friend or called out to the Linkmen for theirCompany, only that at the very moment my Handcame in contact with the iron bell pull, and fasteneditself instinctively upon it.

Whereupon the clang of the Bell broke thesolemn Silence which reigned around.

3

I had grave Difficulty in obtaining access to myLord Stour, his Servant telling me in the firstinstance that his Lordship was not at home, and inthe second that he was in any event too busy toreceive Visitors at this hour. But I have oft beentold that I possess the Obstinacy of the Weak, andI was determined that, having come so far, I wouldnot return to Mr. Betterton without havingaccomplished mine Errand. So, seeing that the Servant,with the Officiousness and Insolence of his kind, wasabout to slam the door in my face, an Inspirationseized me, and taking on a haughty Air, I steppedboldly across the Threshold and then commandedthe Menial to go to his Lordship at once andannounce the visit of Mr. Theophilus Baggs' Clerk ona matter of the utmost Urgency.

I suppose that now I looked both determined andfierce, and after a good deal of hem-ming andhawing, the Varlet apparently felt that non-compliancewith my Desire might bring contumely uponhimself; so he went, leaving me most unceremoniouslyto cool my heels in the Hall, and returned but a veryfew minutes later looking distinctly crestfallen andnot a little astonished.

His Lordship would see me at once, he announced.Then bade me follow him up the stairs.

To say that my Heart was beating furiouslywithin my Breast would be but a bald Statement ofmy Frame of Mind. I fully expected that hisLordship, directly he knew that it was not Mr. Baggswho had sent me, would have me ignominiouslyturned out of the House. However, I was not givenmuch time to indulge in my Conjectures and myFears, for presently I was ushered into a large room,dimly lighted by a couple of wax candles and theWalls of which, I noticed, were entirely lined with Books.

After the Menial had closed the door behind me,a Voice bade me curtly to come forward and to statemine Errand. Then I saw that my Lord Stour wasnot alone. He was sitting in a chair in front of thefire, and opposite to him sat the beautiful LadyBarbara, whilst standing in front of the hearth, withlegs apart and hands thrust in the pockets of hisbreeches, was Lord Douglas Wychwoode.

What Courage was left in me now went downinto my shoes. I felt like a Man faced with threeEnemies where he had only expected to meet one.My Throat felt very dry and my Tongue seemed tocleave to my Palate. Nevertheless, in response to areiterated curt Command to state mine Errand, Idid so unfalteringly.

"Mr. Thomas Betterton, one of His Majesty'sWell-Beloved Servants," I said, "hath sent me tohis Lordship the Earl of Stour."

My Words were greeted with an angry Oath fromLord Douglas, an ironical Laugh from my LordStour and a strange little Gasp, half of Terror,wholly of Surprise, from the Lady Barbara.

"Methought You came from Mr. Baggs," myLord Stour remarked haughtily. "So at least Yougave my Servant to understand, else You wouldnot have been admitted."

"Your Lordship's Servant misunderstood me,"I rejoined quite quietly. "I gave my name as Clerkto Mr. Baggs; but mine Errand concerns Mr. ThomasBetterton, and he honours me with his Friendship."

"And as Mr. Betterton's Affairs do not concernme in any way——" his Lordship began coldly, andwould no doubt have dismissed me then and there,but that the Lady Barbara interposed gently yet withgreat Firmness.

"I pray You, my Lord," she said, "do not beover-hasty. We might at least listen to whatMr. Betterton's Messenger has to say."

"Yes," added Lord Douglas in his habitualbrusque Manner. "Let us hear what the Fellow wants."

This was not encouraging, you will admit; but,like many over-timid People, there are times whenI am conscious of unwonted Calm and Determination.So even now I confronted these twosupercilious Gentlemen with as much Dignity as I couldcommand, and said, addressing myself directly tothe Earl of Stour:

"Mr. Betterton hath sent me to You, my Lord,to demand Satisfaction for the abominable Outragewhich You perpetrated upon his Person nigh on twomonths ago."

Lord Stour shrugged his Shoulders and ripostedcoldly:

"That tune is stale, my Man. Mr.—er—Bettertonhas had mine Answer."

"Since then, my Lord," I insisted firmly, "Timehath no doubt brought saner Reflection. Mr. Betterton'sFame and his Genius have raised him to alevel far above that conferred by mere Birth."

"Have made a Gentleman of him, You mean?"Lord Stour rejoined with a sarcastic curl of the lip.

"More noble far than any Gentleman in theLand," I retorted proudly.

He gave a harsh laugh.

"In that case, my Man," he said tartly, "youcan inform your worthy Friend that two hundredyears hence my Descendants might fight him on acomparatively equal Footing. But until then," headded firmly and conclusively, "I must repeat forthe last time what I have already told Mr.—er—Betterton:the Earl of Stour cannot cross Swordswith a Mountebank."

"Take care, my Lord, take care——"

The Exclamation had burst quite involuntarilyfrom my Lips. The next moment I felt ashamedto have uttered it, for my Lord Stour looked me upand down as he would an importunate Menial, andLord Douglas Wychwoode strode towards me andpointed to the door.

"Get out!" he commanded curtly.

There was nothing more to be done—nothingmore to be said, if I desired to retain one lastShred of Dignity both for myself and for the greatArtist who—in my Person this time—had onceagain been so profoundly humiliated.

My wet cloak I had left down in the Hall, but Istill held my hat in my hands. I now bowed withas much Grace as I could muster. Lord Douglasstill pointed a peremptory finger towards the door,making it clear that I was not going of mine ownAccord, like the Intermediary of any Gentlemanmight be, but that I was being kicked out like someinsolent Varlet.

Oh! the shame of it! The shame!

My ears were tingling, my temples throbbing. Acrimson Veil, thrust before mine eyes by invisibleHands, caused my footsteps to falter. Oh! if onlyI had had the strength, I should even then haveturned upon those aristocratic Miscreants and, withmy hands upon their throats, have forced them toeat their impious Words.

But even as I crossed the Threshold of that Roomwhere I had suffered such bitter Humiliation, Iheard loud and mocking Laughter behind me; andwords such as: "Insolence!" "Mountebank!""Rogue!" and "Vagabond!" still reached my ears.

I suppose that the door did not close quite fullybehind me, for even as I crossed the landingmeseemed that I heard the Lady Barbara's voice raisedin a kind of terrified Appeal.

"Would to God, my dear Lord," she appeared toplead with passionate Earnestness, "You had notincurred the Enmity of that Man. Ever since thatawful day I have felt as if You were encompassedby Spirits of Hate and of Vengeance which threatenour Happiness."

Her Voice broke in a sob. And, indeed, I foundit in my heart to pity her, for she seemed deeplygrieved. I still could hear him—her Lover andmine Enemy, since he was the Enemy of myFriend—trying to laugh away her fears.

"Nay, sweetheart," he was saying tenderly. "AMan like that can do us no harm. Mine ownConscience is clear—my Life honourable—and to-nightwill see the triumph of your Cause, to which I havegiven willing help. That Man's Malice cannot touchme, any more than the snarling of a toothless cur.So do not waste these precious moments, myBeloved, by thinking of him."

After which the door behind me was closed to,and I heard nothing more. I hurried down theStairs, snatched up my cloak and hurried out of theHouse.

Never should I have believed that a human Heartcould contain so much Hatred as mine held for myLord Stour at that moment.

4

I found Mr. Betterton waiting for me under theGateway where I had left him a quarter of an hour ago.

As soon as he heard my footsteps upon theuneven pavement of the fore-court, he came forwardto meet me, took hold of my cloak and dragged meback into shelter.

He only said the one word: "Well?" but it isnot in my power, dear Mistress, to render adequatelyall that there was of Anxiety, Impatience and ofPassion in that one brief Query.

I suppose that I hesitated. Of a truth theMessage which I was bringing was choking me. And hewho is so sensitive, so understanding, learnedeverything, and at once, from my Silence.

"He hath refused?" he said simply.

I nodded.

"He will not fight me?"

And my Silence gave reply. A curious, hoarseCry, like that of a wounded Animal, escaped hisThroat and for a moment we were both silent—sosilent that the patter of the rain appeared like somethunderous Noise: and the divers sounds of thegreat City wrapped in the Cloak of Evening cameto us with sharp and eerie Distinctness. Far away,a dog barked; some belated Chairman called:"Make room, there!"; a couple of Watchmenpassed close by, clinking their halberts against theground, and from one of the noble Mansions nighto us there came the sound of Revelry and ofLaughter.

I felt like in a Dream, conscious only that theFinger of Destiny was pointing to the Dial of aClock, and that I was set here to count the Secondsand the Minutes until that ghostly Finger hadcompleted its task and registered the final Hour whenthe Decrees of God would inevitably be fulfilled.

CHAPTER X

THE HOUR

1

A quarter of an hour—perhaps less—later, wewere speeding back, Mr. Betterton and I, downCanon's Row on our way to Westminster Stairs,intending to take boat for the City.

In the terrible mental upheaval which hadfollowed on the renewed Outrage that had been putupon my beloved Friend, I had well-nigh forgottenthat secret conspiracy which was even now threateningthe stability of our Country, and in which myformer Employer and his Spouse were so deeplyinvolved.

The striking of Church Bells far and near,chiming the hour of eight, recalled me to the dangerwhich threatened Mr. Baggs along with his morearistocratic co-traitors. And, strangely enough,Mr. Betterton thought of this at the very same time.He had been sunk in moody Reverie ever since mySilence had told him the grim tale of myunsuccessful Embassy to the Earl of Stour, and throughthe darkness it was impossible even for my devotedeyes to watch the Play of Emotions upon histell-tale face, or to read in his eyes the dark thoughtswhich I knew must be coursing through his Brain.

In myself, I could not help but be satisfied at theturn of Events. The Conspirators, denounced byme to the Countess of Castlemaine, would of acertainty meet the Punishment which they so fullydeserved. Lord Stour was one of them, so was LordDouglas Wychwoode. The Scaffold, or at least,Banishment, would be their lot, and how could Igrieve—I, who hated them so!—that the Earthwould presently be rid of two arrogant andsupercilious Coxcombs, Traitors to their King,vainglorious and self-seeking. True, the Lady Barbarawould weep. But when I remembered the manybitter tears which you, dear Mistress, have shedthese past months because she had enchainedthe fancy of the Man whom you loved, then hadscorned his Ardour and left him a Prey toHumiliation and Shame at the hands of Men unworthy tolick the dust at his feet; when I remembered allthat, I could find no Pity in my heart for the LadyBarbara, but rather a Hope that one so exquisitelyfair would pass through Sorrow and Adversity thepurer and softer for the Ordeal.

True again, that for some reason still unexplainedMr. Betterton appeared to desire with an almostpassionate intensity that his successful Rival shouldescape the fate of his fellow-Conspirators. SuchMagnanimity was beyond my Comprehension, andI felt that the Sentiment which engendered it couldnot be a lasting one. Mr. Betterton was for themoment angry with me—very angry—for what Ihad done; but his Anger I knew would soon meltin the Warmth of his own kindly Heart. He wouldforgive me, and anon forget the insolent Enemyafter the latter had expiated his Treachery and hisArrogance upon the Scaffold. The whole of thishideous past Episode would then become a mereMemory, like unto a nightmare which the healthfulfreshness of the newly-born Day so quickly dispels.

2

So on the whole it was with a lightened heartthat I stepped into the boat in the wake ofMr. Betterton. I thanked the Lord that the Rain hadceased for the moment, for truly I was chilled tothe Marrow and could not have borne another wetting.

Every Angle and Stone and Stair and LandingStage along the Embankment was of course familiarto me; and I could not help falling into a Reverieat sight of those great houses which were the Cityhomes of some of the noblest Families in the Land.How many of these stately walls, thought I,sheltered a nest of Conspirators as vile and as disloyalas were Lord Douglas Wychwoode and his friends?Suffolk House and Yorke House, Salisbury Houseand Worster House, to mention but a few. Howdid the mere honest Citizen know what went onbehind their Portals, what deadly secrets werewhispered within their doors?

I had been taught all my life to respect those whoare above me in Station and to reverence our titledNobility; but truly my short Experience of thesehigh-born Sparks was not calculated to enhance myRespect for their Integrity or my Admiration fortheir Intellect. Some older Gentlemen there were,such as the Lord Chancellor himself, who wereworthy of Everybody's regard; but I must confessthat the Behaviour of the younger Fops was oftblameworthy.

I might even instance our Experience this darknight after we had landed at the Temple Stairs, andwere hurrying along our way up Middle TempleLane in the wake of our linkmen. We werespeeding on, treading carefully so as to avoid as muchas was possible the mud which lay ankle-deep inthe Lane, when we suddenly spied ahead of us aparty of "Scourers"—young Gentlemen of highRank, very much the worse for drink, who, beingat their wits' end to know how to spend theirevenings, did it in prowling about the Streets, insultingor maltreating peaceable Passers-by, molestingWomen, breaking Tavern windows, stealingSignboards and otherwise rendering themselves noxiousto honest Citizens, and helping to make the Streetsof our great City an object of terror by night, inemulation of highway Robbers and other foulMarauders.

No doubt Mr. Betterton and I would—despite theaid of our two linkmen and of their stout Cudgels—havefallen a victim to these odious Miscreants,and the great Actor would of a surety have beenvery rudely treated, since he had so often denouncedthese Mal-practices from the Stage and held up topublic Ridicule not only the young Rakes who tookpart in the riotous Orgies, but also our Nightwatchmen,who were too stupid or too cowardly to copewith them. But, knowing our danger, we avoidedit, and hearing the young Mohocks coming our waywe slipped up Hare Alley and bided our time untilthe noise of Revels and Riotings were well behind us.

I heard afterwards that those AbominableDebauchees—who surely should have known better,seeing that they were all Scions of great and nobleFamilies—had indeed "scoured" that night withsome purpose. They broke into Simond's Inn inFleet Street, smashed every Piece of Crockery theycould find there, assaulted the Landlord, beat theCustomers about, broke open the money-box, stolesome five pounds in hard cash and insulted thewaiting-maids. Finally they set a seal to theirRevels by falling on the Nightwatchmen who hadcome to disperse them, beating them with their ownhalberts and with sticks, and wounding one soseverely that he ultimately died in Hospital, whilethe Miscreants themselves got off scot-free.

Truly a terrible state of Affairs in such a nobleCity as London!

3

As for Mr. Betterton and myself, we reached thecorner of Chancery Lane without seriousAdventure. As we neared the house of Mr. TheophilusBaggs, however, I felt my Courage oozing downinto my shoes. Truly I could not then have facedmy former Employer, whom I had just betrayed,and the mean side of my Action in the Matter cameupon me with a shaming force.

I begged Mr. Betterton, therefore, to go andspeak with Mr. Baggs whilst I remained waitingoutside upon the doorstep.

Of all that miserable day, this was perhaps to methe most painful moment. From the instant thatMr. Betterton was admitted into the house until hereturned to me some twenty minutes later, I wasin a cold sweat, devoured with Apprehension andfighting against Remorse. I could not forget thatMr. Baggs had been my Master and Employer—ifnot too kind an one—for years, and if he had beensent to the Tower and accompanied his fellowConspirators upon the Scaffold, I verily believe that Ishould have felt like Judas Iscariot and, like him,would have been unable to endure my life after sucha base Betrayal.

Fortunately, however, Mr. Betterton was soonable to reassure me. He had, he said, immediatelywarned Mr. Baggs that something of the Secretof the Conspiracy had come to the ears of theCountess of Castlemaine, and that all those whowere in any way mixed up in the Affair would bewise to lie low as far as possible, at any rate fora while.

Mr. Baggs, it seems, was at first terrified, andwas on the point of losing his Head and committingsome act of Folly through sheer fright. ButMr. Betterton's quieting Influence soon prevailed. Theworthy Attorney, on thinking the matter over,realized that if he destroyed certain Documentswhich might prove incriminating to himself, hewould have little else to fear. He himself had neverwritten a compromising Letter—he was far tooshrewd to have thus committed himself—and therewas not a scrap of paper in any one else'spossession which bore his Name or might mark hisIdentity, whilst he had not the slightest fear that theother Conspirators—who were all of themGentlemen—would betray the Complicity of an humbleAttorney who had rendered them loyal Service.

Strangely enough, Mr. Baggs never suspected meof having betrayed the whole thing; or, if he did,he never said so. So many People plotted thesedays, so many Conspiracies were hatched then blownupon, that I for one imagine that Mr. Baggs had ahand in several of these and was paid high Feesfor his share in them. Then, when anythinguntoward happened, when mere Chance, or else aTraitor among the Traitors, caused the Conspiracyto abort, the worthy Attorney would metaphoricallyshake the dust of political Intrigue from his shabbyshoes, and make a bonfire of every compromisingDocument that might land him in the Tower andfurther. After which, he was no doubt ready tobegin all over again.

So it had occurred in this instance. Mr. Bettertondid not wait to see the bonfire, which was justbeginning to blaze merrily in the old-fashionedhearth. He told me all about it when he joined meonce more upon the doorstep, and for the first timethat day I heard him laugh quite naturally andspontaneously while he recounted to me Mr. Baggs'Terrors and Mistress Euphrosine's dignifiedFussiness.

"She would have liked to find some Pretext," hesaid quite gaily, "for blaming me in the Matter.But on the whole, I think that they were boththankful for my timely Warning."

4

But, as far as I was concerned, this ended onceand for all my Connection with the house ofMr. Theophilus Baggs, and since that memorable nightI have never once slept under his roof.

I went back with Mr. Betterton to his House inTothill Street. By the time we reached it, it wasclose on ten o'clock. Already he had intimated tome that henceforth I was to make my home withhim; and as soon as we entered the House heordered his Servant to make my room and bed readyfor me. My Heart was filled with inexpressiblegratitude at his Kindness. Though I had, in analtogether inexplicable manner, run counter to hisPlans, he was ready to forgive me and did notwithdraw his Friendship from me.

As time went on, I was able to tell him somethingof the Emotions which coursed through my Heartin recognition of his measureless Kindness to me;but on that first evening I could not speak of it.When I first beheld the cosy room which he hadassigned to me, with its clean and comfortable bedand substantial furniture, I could only bow myHead, take his Hand and kiss it reverently. Hewithdrew it as if he had been stung.

"Keep such expressions of Respect," he saidalmost roughly, "for one who is worthy."

"You," I riposted simply, "are infinitely worthy,because You are good."

Then once again his harsh, mirthless Laugh—sounlike his usual light-hearted Merriment—gratedupon mine ear.

"Good!" he exclaimed. "Nay, friend Honeywood,You are not, meseems, a master of intuition.Few Hearts in London this night," he addedearnestly, "harbour such evil Desires as mine."

But in spite of what he said, in spite of thatstrange look in his eyes, that Laugh whichproclaimed a perturbed Soul, I could not bring myselfto believe that his noble Heart was a Prey to aughtbut noble Desires, and that those awful and subtleSchemes of deadly Revenge which have subsequentlythreatened to ruin his own Life were even nowseething in his Brain.

For the moment, I only remembered that whenfirst he had requested me to accompany him on hisevening Peregrinations, it had been with a view tovisiting the Countess of Castlemaine, and I nowreminded him of his Purpose, thinking that hisdesire had been to beg for my Lord Stour's pardon.I did so, still insisting upon her Ladyship's avowedPredilection for himself, and I noticed that whileI spoke thus he smiled grimly to himself andpresently said with slow Deliberation:

"Aye! Her Ladyship hath vowed that out ofGratitude for his public Eulogy of her Virtue andher Beauty, she would grant Mr. Thomas Bettertonany Favour he might ask of her."

"Aye! and her Ladyship is not like to go backon her word," I assented eagerly.

"Therefore," he continued, not heeding me, "theCountess of Castlemaine, who in her turn canobtain any Favour she desires from His Majesty theKing, will at my request obtain a full and graciousPardon for the Earl of Stour."

"She will indeed!" I exclaimed, puzzled oncemore at this strange trait of Magnanimity—Weakness,I called it—on the part of a Man who had ontwo occasions been so monstrously outraged. "Youare a hero, Sir," I added in an awed whisper, "tothink of a pardon for your most deadly Enemy."

He turned and looked me full in the eyes. Icould scarce bear his Glance, for there seemed todwell within its glowing depths such a World ofMisery, of Hatred and of thwarted Passion, thatmy Soul was filled with dread at the sight. Andhe said very slowly:

"You are wrong there, my Friend. I was notthinking of a pardon for mine Enemy, but ofRevenge for a deadly Insult, which it seems cannotbe wiped out in Blood."

5

I would have said something more after that, forin truth my Heart was full of Sympathy and ofLove for my Friend and I longed to soothe andconsole him, as I felt I could do, humble andunsophisticated though I was. Thoughts of You, dearMistress, were running riot in my Brain. I longedat this momentous hour, when the Fate of manyMen whom I knew was trembling in the balance, tothrow myself at Mr. Betterton's feet and toconjure him in the name of all his most noble Instinctsto give up all thoughts of the proud Lady who haddisdained him and spurned his Affections, and toturn once more to the early and pure Love of hisLife—to You, dear Mistress, whose Devotion hadbeen so severely tried and yet had not been foundwanting, and whose influence had always been oneof Gentleness and of Purity.

But, seeing him sitting there brooding, obviously aPrey to Thoughts both deep and dark, I did not darespeak, and remained silent in the hope that, now thatI was settled under his roof, an Opportunity wouldoccur for me to tell him what weighed so heavily onmy Heart.

Presently the Servant came in and broughtSupper, and Mr. Betterton sat down to it, biddingme with perfect Grace and Hospitality to sitopposite to him. But we neither of us felt greatlyinclined to eat. I was hungry, it is true; yet everyMorsel which I conveyed to my mouth cost me aneffort to swallow. This was all the more remarkableas at the moment my whole Being was revellingin the Succulence of the fare spread out before me,the Excellence of the Wine, the snowy Whiteness ofthe Cloths, the Beauty of Crystal and of Silver,all of which bore testimony to the fastidious Tasteand the Refinement of the great Artist.

Of the great Events which were even then shapingthemselves in White Hall, we did not speak. Weeach knew that the Other's mind was full of whatmight be going on even at this hour. ButMr. Betterton made not a single Reference to it, andI too, therefore, held my tongue. In fact, we spokebut little during Supper, and as I watched mydearly loved Friend toying with his food, and Imyself felt as if the next mouthful would choke me,I knew his Mind was far away.

It was fixed upon White Hall and its statelyPurlieus and upon the house of the Countess ofCastlemaine, which overlooked the Privy Gardens,and of His Majesty the King. His senses, I knew,were strained to catch the sound of distantMurmurs, of running Footsteps, of the grinding of Armsor of pistol shots.

But not a Sound came to disturb the peacefulSilence of this comfortable Abode. The Servantcame and went, bringing food, then clearing it away,pouring Wine into our glasses, setting and removingthe silver Utensils.

Anon Mr. Betterton and I both started andfurtively caught one another's Glance. The towerclock of Westminster was striking eleven.

"For Good or for Evil, all is over by now,"Mr. Betterton said quietly. "Come, friendHoneywood; let's to bed."

I went to bed, but not to sleep. For hours I layawake, wondering what had happened. Had theConspirators succeeded and was His Majesty aPrisoner in their hands? or were they themselvesCaptives in that frowning Edifice by the Water,which had witnessed so many Deaths and such grimTragedies, and from which the only Egress ledstraight to the Scaffold?

CHAPTER XI

RUMOURS AND CONJECTURES

1

Very little of what had actually occurred came tothe ear of the Public. In fact, not one Man in tenin the whole of the Cities of London andWestminster knew that a couple of hours beforemidnight, when most simple and honest Citizens wereretiring to their beds, a batch of dangerousConspirators had been arrested even within thePrecincts of White Hall.

I heard all that there was to know fromMr. Betterton, who went out early the followingMorning and returned fully informed of the events of thepreceding Night. Subsequently too, I gleaned agood deal of information through the instrumentalityof Mistress Floid. As far as I could gather,the Conspirators did carry out their Project justas they had decided on it in my Presence. They didassemble in King Street and in the by-lanes leadingout of it, keeping my Lady Castlemaine's House insight, whilst others succeeded in Concealingthemselves about the Gardens of White Hall, no doubtwith the Aid of treacherous and suborned Watchmen.

The striking of the hour of ten was to be thesignal for immediate and concerted Action. Thosein the Gardens stood by on the watch, until afterHis Majesty the King had walked across from hisPalace to Her Ladyship's House. His Majesty, aswas his wont when supping with Lady Castlemaine,entered her house by the back door, and his Servantsfollowed him into the house.

Then the Conspirators waited for the Hour tostrike. Directly the last clang of church bells hadceased to reverberate through the humid evening air,they advanced both from the Back and the Frontof the House simultaneously, when they were setupon on the one side by a Company of His Majesty'sBody Guard under the Command of MajorSachvrell, who had remained concealed inside thePalace, and on the other by a Company ofHalberdiers under the Command of Colonel Powick.

When the Traitors were thus confronted by loyalTroops, they tried to put up a Fight, not realizingthat such measures had been taken by MajorSachvrell and Colonel Powick that they could notpossibly hope to escape.

A scuffle ensued, but the Conspirators were verysoon overpowered, as indeed they were greatlyoutnumbered. The Neighbourhood—even thenslumbering peacefully—did no more than turn over inbed, marvelling perhaps if a party of Mohocks onmischief bent had come in conflict with a Posse ofNight-watchmen. The Prisoners were at oncemarched to the Tower, despite the Rain which hadonce more begun to fall heavily; and during thelong, wearisome Tramp through the City, theirArdour for Conspiracies and Intrigues must havecooled down considerably.

The Lieutenant of the Tower had everythingready for the Reception of such exalted Guests; forin truth my Lady Castlemaine had not allowedthings to be done by halves. Incensed against herEnemies in a manner in which only an adulated andspoilt Woman can be, she was going to see to itthat those who had plotted against her should be asseverely dealt with as the Law permitted.

2

Later on, I had it from my friend, MistressFloid, that the Lady Barbara Wychwoode visitedthe Countess of Castlemaine during the course ofthe morning. She arrived at her Ladyship's Housedressed in black and with a Veil, as if of mourning,over her fair Hair.

Mistress Floid hath oft told me that the Interviewbetween the two Ladies was truly pitiable, and thatthe Lady Barbara presented a heart-rendingSpectacle. She begged and implored her Ladyship toexercise Mercy over a few young Hotheads, whohad been misled into Wrong-doing by inflammatorySpeeches from Agitators, these being naught butpaid Agents of the Dutch Government, she averred,set to create Discontent and if possible Civil Waronce again in England, so that Holland mightembark upon a War of Revenge with some Certaintyof Success.

But the Countess of Castlemaine would not listento the Petition at all, and proud Lady BarbaraWychwoode then flung herself at the other Woman'sfeet and begged and implored for Pardon for herBrother, her Lover and her Friends. Mistress Floidavers that my Lady Castlemaine did nothing butlaugh at the poor Girl's pleadings, saying in ahaughty, supercilious Manner:

"Beauty in tears? 'Tis a pretty sight, forsooth!But had your Friends succeeded in their damnablePlot, would You have shed tears of sympathy forMe, I wonder?"

And I could not find it in me to be astonished atmy Lady Castlemaine's Spitefulness, for in truth theLady Barbara's Friends had plotted her Disgraceand Ruin. Not only that, they had taken everyopportunity of vilifying her Character and makingher appear as odious in the Eyes of the People asthey very well could.

You must not infer from this, dear Mistress, thatI am upholding my Lady Castlemaine in any way.Her mode of life is abhorrent to me and I deeplyregret her Influence over His Majesty and over thepublic Morals of the Court Circle, not to say of theentire Aristocracy and Gentry. I am merely notingthe fact that human Nature being what it is, it isnot to be wondered at that when the Lady had aChance of hitting back, she did so with all herMight, determined to lose nothing of thisstupendous Revenge.

However secret the actual Arrest of theConspirators was kept from public Knowledge, it soontranspired that such great and noble Gentlemen asLord Teammouth, Lord Douglas Wychwoode, theEarl of Stour, not to mention others, were in theTower, and that a sensational Trial for Conspiracyand High Treason was pending.

Gradually the History of the Plot had leakedout, and how it had become abortive owing to ananonymous Denunciation (for so it was called).The Conspiracy became the talk of the Town.Several Ladies and Gentlemen, though not directlyimplicated in the Affair, but of known ultra-Protestantviews, thought it best to retire to their CountryEstates, ostensibly for the benefit of their Health.

Sinister Rumours were afloat that theConspirators would be executed without Trial—hadalready suffered the extreme Penalty of the Law;that the Marquis of Sidbury, Father of LordDouglas Wychwoode, had suddenly died of Grief;that Torture would be applied to the proletarianAccomplices of the noble Lords—of whom therewere many—so as to extract further Informationand Denunciations from them. In fact, the Townseethed with Conjectures; People talked inWhispers and dispersed at sight of any one who wasknown to belong to the Court Circle. The Theatresplayed to empty Benches, the Exchanges and Shopswere deserted, for no one liked to be abroad whenArrests and Prosecutions were in the Air.

Through it all, very great Sympathy was evincedfor the Lady Barbara Wychwoode, whose prettyFace was so well-known in Town and whose Charmof Manner and kindly Disposition had endeared herto many who had had the privilege of her Acquaintance.Public Opinion is a strange and unaccountableFactor in the Affairs of Men, and PublicOpinion found it terribly hard that so young andadulated a Girl as was the Lady Barbara shouldat one fell swoop lose Brother, Lover and Friends.And I may truly say that Satisfaction wasabsolutely genuine and universal when it became knownpresently that the young Earl of Stour hadreceived a full and gracious Pardon for his supposedShare in the abominable Plot.

Whether, on closer Investigation, he had beenproved innocent or whether the Pardon was due toexalted or other powerful Influences, no one knewas yet: all that was a Certainty was that my LordStour presently left the Tower a free Man evenwhilst his Friends were one and all brought toTrial, and subsequently most of them executed forHigh Treason, or otherwise severely punished.

Lord Teammouth suffered Death upon theScaffold, so did Sir James Campsfield and Mr. AndrewKinver; and there were others, whose Names escapeme for the moment. Lord Douglas Wychwoodesucceeded in fleeing to Scotland and thence toHolland; most people averred owing to the marvellousPluck and Ingenuity of his Sister. A number ofPersons of meaner degree were hanged; in fact, aReign of Terror swept over the country, and manythought that the Judges had been unduly harsh andover free with their Pronouncements of DeathSentences.

But it was obvious that His Majesty himselfmeant to make an Example of such abominableTraitors, before political Intrigues and Rebellionspread over the Country once again.

It was all the more strange, therefore, that oneof the Conspirators—the Earl of Stour, in fact,whose name had been most conspicuous in connectionwith the Affair—should thus have been the onlyone to enjoy Immunity. But, as I said before,nothing but Satisfaction was expressed at first forthis one small Ray of Sunshine which came tobrighten poor Lady Barbara Wychwoode's Misery.

As for me, I did not know what to think. Surelymy heart should have been filled with Admirationfor the noble Revenge which a great Artist hadtaken upon a hot-headed young Coxcomb. SuchMagnanimity was indeed unbelievable; nay, I feltthat it showed a Weakness of Character of which inmy innermost Heart I did not believe Mr. Bettertoncapable.

To say that I was much rejoiced over theClemency shown to my Lord Stour would be to deviatefrom the Truth. Looking back upon the Motiveswhich had actuated me when I denounced theinfamous Plot to the Countess of Castlemaine, I couldnot help but admit to myself that Hatred of a youngJackanapes and a Desire for Vengeance upon hisimpudent Head had greatly influenced my Courseof Action. Now that I imagined him once morekneeling at the Lady Barbara's feet, an acceptedLover, triumphant over Destiny, all the Sympathywhich I may have felt for him momentarily in thehour of his Adversity, died out completely from myHeart, and I felt that I hated him even morevirulently than before.

His Image, as he had last stood before me in thedimly-lighted room of his noble Mansion,surrounded by Books, costly Furniture, and all theAppurtenances of a rich and independent Gentleman,was constantly before my Mind. I could, just byclosing mine eyes, see him sitting beside the hearth,with the lovely Lady Barbara beaming at him fromthe place opposite, and his Friend standing by,backing him up with Word and Deed in all hisArrogance and Overbearing.

"The Earl of Stour cannot cross swords with aMountebank."

I seemed to hear those Words reverberatingacross the street like the clank of some ghostlyBell; and whenever mine ears rang to their soundI felt the hot Blood of a just Wrath surge up tomy cheeks and my feeble Hands would close in aClutch, that was fierce as it was impotent.

3

The reported Death from grief of the Marquisof Sidbury proved to be a false Rumour. But theaged Peer did suffer severely from the Shame putupon him by his Son's Treachery. The Wychwoodeshad always been loyal Subjects of theirKing. At the time of the late lamented Monarch'smost crying Adversity, he knew that he could alwayscount on the Devotion of that noble Family, theMembers of which had jeopardized their entireFortune, their very Existence, in the royal Cause.

Of course, the present Marquis's two Childrenwere scarce out of the Nursery when the bitterConflict raged between the King and his People;but it must have been terribly hard for a proudMan to bear the thought that his only Son, as soonas he had reached Man's Estate, should have raisedhis Hand against his Sovereign.

No doubt owing to the disturbed State of manyinfluential Circles of Society that Winter, and thenumber of noble Families who were in mourningafter the aborted Conspiracy and the wholesaleExecutions that ensued, the Marriage between theLady Barbara Wychwoode and the Earl of Stourwas postponed until the Spring, and then it wouldtake place very quietly at the Bride's home inSussex, whither she had gone of late with herFather, both living there for a while in strictRetirement.

Lord Douglas Wychwoode, so it was understood,had succeeded in reaching Holland, where, I doubtnot, he continued to carry on those politicalIntrigues against his lawful Sovereign which wouldof a surety one day bring him to an ignominious End.

I was now living in the greatest Comfort and wassupremely happy, in the House of Mr. Betterton.He employed me as his Secretary, and in truth myplace was no sinecure, for I never could havebelieved that there were so many foolish Persons inthe World who spent their time in writingLetters—laudatory or otherwise—to such great Men aswere in the public Eye. I myself, though I havealways been a wholehearted Admirer of Men ofTalent and Erudition, would never have taken itupon myself to trouble them with Effusions from myPen. And yet Letter after Letter would come tothe house in Tothill Street, addressed toMr. Thomas Betterton. Some written by great andnoble Ladies whose Names would surprise You,dear Mistress, were I to mention them; others werefrom Men of position and of learning who desiredto express to the great Artist all the Pleasure thatthey had derived from his rendering of nobleCharacters.

Mr. Pepys, a Gentleman of great knowledge anda Clerk in the Admiralty, wrote quite frequently toMr. Betterton, sometimes to express unstintedPraise for the great Actor's Performance in one ofhis favourite Plays, or sometimes venturing onCriticism, which was often shrewd and never disdained.

But, after all, am I not wasting time by tellingYou that which You, dear Mistress, know wellenough from your own personal Experience? Idoubt not but you receive many such Letters, bothfrom Admirers and from Friends, not to mentionEnemies, who are always to the fore when a Manor Woman rises by Talent or Learning above thedead level of the rest of Humanity.

It was then my duty to read those Letters andto reply to them, which I did at Mr. Betterton'sDictation, and in my choicest Caligraphy with manyEmbellishments such as I had learned whilst I wasClerk to Mr. Baggs. Thus it was that I obtainedConfirmation of the Fact which was still agitatingmy Mind: namely, Mr. Betterton's share in theEvents which led to His Majesty's gracious Pardonbeing extended to the Earl of Stour. I had, ofcourse, more than suspected all along that it was myFriend who had approached the Countess ofCastlemaine on the Subject, yet could not imaginehow any Man, who was smarting under such aterrible Insult, as Mr. Betterton had suffered at thehands of my Lord Stour, could find it in his Heartthus to return Good for Evil, and with such splendidMagnanimity.

But here I had Chapter and Verse for the wholeAffair, because my Lady Castlemaine wrote toMr. Betterton more than once upon the Subject, andalways in the same bantering tone, chaffing him forhis Chivalry and his Heroism, saying very muchwhat I should myself, if I had had the Courage orthe Presumption to do so. She kept him wellinformed of her Endeavours on behalf of Lord Stour,referring to the King's Severity and Obstinacy inthe matter in no measured Language, but almostinvariably closing her Epistles with a reiterationof her promise to the great Artist to grant him anyFavour he might ask of her.

"I do work most strenuously on your behalf,You adorably wicked Man," her Ladyship wrote inone of her Letters; "but I could wish that Youwould ask something of me which more closelyconcerned Yourself."

On another occasion she said:

"For the first time yester evening I wrung a halfPromise from His Majesty; but You cannotconceive in what a Predicament You have placed me,for His Majesty hath shown signs of Suspicionsince I plead so earnestly on behalf of Lord Stour.If my Insistence were really to arouse his Jealousyyour Protégé would certainly lose his Head and Iprobably my Place in the King's Affections."

And then again:

"It greatly puzzles me why You should thusfavour my Lord Stour. Is it not a fact that hehath insulted You beyond the Hope of Pardon?And yet, not only do You plead for your Enemywith passionate insistence, but You enjoin me atthe same time to keep your noble purpose a Secretfrom him. Truly, but for my promise to You, Iwould throw up the Sponge, and that for your owngood.... I did not know that Artists wereAltruists. Methought that Egotism was their mostusual Foible."

Thus I could no longer remain in doubt as towho the Benefactor was, whom my Lord of Stourhad to thank for his very life. Yet, withal, theSecret was so well kept that, even in this era ofceaseless Gossip and Chatter, every one, even in themost intimate Court Circle, was ignorant of thesubtle Intrigue which had been set in motion onbehalf of the young Gallant.

CHAPTER XII

POISONED ARROWS

1

Do you remember, dear Mistress, those lovelydays we had in February this year? They weremore like days of Spring than of Winter. For afortnight we revelled in sunshine and a temperaturemore fitting for May than for one of the Wintermonths.

In London, Rich and Poor alike came out intothe Air like flies; the public Gardens and otherPlaces of common resort were alive withPromenaders; the Walks and Arbours in the Gray's InnWalks or the Mulberry Garden were astir withbrilliant Company. All day, whether you sauntered inHyde Park, refreshed yourself with a collation inSpring Gardens or strolled into the New Exchange,you would find such a crowd of Men and Womenof Mode, such a Galaxy of Beauty and Bevy of fairMaids and gallant Gentlemen as had not been seenin the Town since that merry month of May, nighon two years ago now, when our beloved Kingreturned from Exile and all vied one with the otherto give him a cheerful Welcome.

To say that this period was one of unexampledTriumph for Mr. Betterton would be but to repeatwhat You know just as well as I do. He madesome truly remarkable hits in certain Plays of thelate Mr. William Shakespeare, notably in"Macbeth," in "King Lear," and in "Hamlett." WhetherI like these Plays myself or not is besidethe point; whatever I thought of them I kept tomyself, but was loud in my Admiration of the greatActor, who indeed had by now conquered all Hearts,put every other Performer in the Shade and raisedthe Status of the Duke's Company of Players to alevel far transcending that ever attained byMr. Killigrew's old Company.

This Opinion, at any rate, I have the Honour ofsharing with all the younger generation ofPlay-goers who flock to the Theatre in Lincoln's InnFields, even while the King's House in Vere Streetis receiving but scanty Patronage. Of course myJudgment may not be altogether impartial, seeingthat in addition to Mr. Betterton, who is the finestActor our English Stage has ever known, the Duke'sHouse also boasts of the loveliest Actress that everwalked before the Curtain.

You, dear Mistress, were already then, as Youare now, at the zenith of your Beauty and Fame,and your damask Cheeks would blush, I know, ifyou were to read for yourself some of the Eulogieswhich the aforementioned Mr. Samuel Pepys in hisLetters to Mr. Betterton bestows upon the exquisiteMistress Saunderson—"Ianthe," as he has beenwont to call you ever since he saw You play thatpart in Sir William Davenant's "The Siege of Rhodes."

Of course I know that of late no other sentimentaltie hath existed outwardly between Mr. Bettertonand Yourself save that of Comradeship and friendlyIntercourse; but often when sitting in the Pit of theTheatre I watched You and Him standing togetherbefore the curtain, and receiving the Plaudits of anenthusiastic Audience, I prayed to God in my Heartto dissipate the Cloud of Misunderstanding whichhad arisen between You; aye! and I cursedfervently the Lady Barbara and her noble Lover, whohelped to make that Cloud more sombre and impenetrable.

2

I naturally heard a great deal more of SocietyGossip these days than I was wont to do duringthe time that I was a mere Clerk in the Employof Mr. Theophilus Baggs. My kind Employertreated me more as a Friend than a Servant. Ihad fine Clothes to wear, accompanied him onseveral Occasions when he appeared in Public, and wasconstantly in his tiring-room at the Theatre, wherehe received and entertained a never-ending Streamof Friends.

Thus, towards the end of the Month, I gatheredfrom the Conversation of Gentlemen around methat the Marquess of Sidbury had come up to Townin the Company of his beautiful Daughter. He had,they said, taken advantage of the fine Weather tomake the Journey to London, as he desired to consultthe Court Physician on the Matter of his Health.

I shall never forget the strange Look that cameinto Mr. Betterton's face when first the Subject wasmentioned. He and some Friends—Ladies as wellas Gentlemen—were assembled in the smallReception Room which hath lately been fitted up behindthe Stage. Upholstered and curtained with apleasing Shade of Green, the Room is much frequentedby Artists and their Friends, and it is alwayscrowded during the Performance of those Playswherein one of the leading Actors or Actresses hasa part.

We have taken to calling the place the GreenRoom, and here on the occasion of a performanceof Mr. Webster's "Duchess of Malfy," in whichYou, dear Mistress, had no part, a very brilliantCompany was assembled. Sir William Davenantwas there, as a matter of course, so was Sir GeorgeEtherege, and that brilliant young dramatistMr. Wycherley. In addition to that, there were one ortwo very great Gentlemen there, members of theCourt Circle and enthusiastic Playgoers, who werealso intimate Friends of Mr. Betterton. I amreferring particularly to the Duke of Buckingham, tomy Lord Rochester, Lord Orrery and others. Abrilliant Assembly forsooth, which testified to thehigh Esteem in which the great Artist is held by allthose who have the privilege of knowing him.

I told You that when first the Name of the LadyBarbara was mentioned in the Green Room, astrange Glance, which I was unable to interpret, shotout of Mr. Betterton's eyes, and as I gazed upon thatsubtle, impalpable Change which suddenly transformedhis serene Expression of Countenance intoone that was almost Evil, I felt a curious sinking ofthe Heart—a dread Premonition of what was tocome. You know how his lips are ever ready tosmile: now they appeared thin and set, while thesensitive Nostrils quivered almost like those of thewild Beasts which we have all of us frequentlywatched in the Zoological Gardens, when theAttendants bring along the food for the day and they,eager and hungry, know that the Hour ofSatisfaction is nigh.

"The fair Lady Babs," one of the youngGallants was saying with studied Flippancy, "is morebeautiful than ever, methinks; even though she goesabout garbed in the Robes of Sorrow."

"Poor young thing!" commented His Grace ofBuckingham kindly. "She has been hard hit in thatlast Affair."

"I wonder what has happened to Wychwoode,"added Lord Rochester, who had been a knownFriend of Lord Douglas.

"Oh! he reached Holland safely enough,"another Gentleman whom I did not know averred. "Isuppose he thinks that it will all blow overpresently and that he will obtain a free pardon——"

"Like my Lord Stour," commented Mr. Betterton drily.

"Oh! that's hardly likely," interposed Sir GeorgeEtherege. "Wychwoode was up to the neck in theConspiracy, whilst Stour was proved to be innocentof the whole affair."

"How do you know that?" Mr. Betterton asked quietly.

"How do I know it?" retorted Sir George."Why? ... How do we all know it?"

"I was wondering," was Mr. Betterton's calmRejoinder.

"I imagine," broke in another Gentleman, "thatat the Trial——"

"Stour never stood his trial, now you come tothink of it," here interposed my Lord of Rochester.

"He was granted a free Pardon," asserted HisGrace of Buckingham, "two days after his Arrest."

"At the Instance of the Countess of Castlemaine,so I am told," concluded Mr. Betterton.

You see, he only put in a Word here and there,but always to some purpose; and oh! that PurposeI simply dared not guess. I was watching him,remember, watching him as only a devoted Friendor a fond Mother know how to watch; and I sawthat set look on his Face grow harder and harderand a steely, glittering Light flash out of his Eyes.

My God! how I suffered! For with that Intuitionwhich comes to us at times when those whomwe love are in deadly peril, I had suddenly beheldthe Abyss of Evil into which my Friend was aboutto plunge headlong. Yes! I understood now whyMr. Betterton had pleaded with my Lady Castlemainefor his Enemy's Life. It was not in orderto confer upon him a lasting benefit and thus shamehim by his Magnanimity; but rather in order to dohim an Injury so irreparable that even Death couldnot wipe it away.

But you shall judge, dear Mistress; and thusjudging You will understand much that has beenso obscure in my dear Friend's Character and in hisActions of late. And to understand All is toforgive All. One thing you must remember, however,and that is that no Man of Mr. Betterton's Worthhath ever suffered in his Pride and his innermostSensibilities as he hath done at the Hands of thatyoung Jackanapes whom he hated—as I had goodcause to know now—with an Intensity which wasboth cruel and relentless. He meant to be even withhim, to fight him with his own Weapons, whichwere those of Contempt and of Ridicule. He meantto wound there, where he himself had suffered most,in Reputation and in Self-Respect.

I saw it all, and was powerless to do aught saveto gaze in mute Heart-Agony on the marring of anoble Soul. Nay! I am not ashamed to own it:I did in my Heart condemn my Friend for what hehad set out to do. I too hated Lord Stour, Godforgive me! but two months ago I would gladlyhave seen his arrogant Head fall upon the Scaffold;but this subtle and calculating Revenge, this coldIntrigue to ruin a Man's Reputation and tobesmirch his Honour, was beyond my ken, and I couldhave wept to see the great Soul of the Man, whomI admired most in all the World, a prey to such anevil Purpose.

"We all know," one of the young Sparks wassaying even now, "that my Lady Castlemaineshowed Stour marked favour from the verymoment he appeared at Court."

"We also know," added Mr. Betterton withquiet Irony, "that the whisper of a beautifulWoman often drowns the loudest call of Honour."

"But surely you do not think——?" ripostedLord Rochester indignantly, "that—that——"

"That what, my lord?" queried Mr. Betterton calmly.

"Why, demme, that Stour did anything dishonourable?"

"Why should I not think that?" retorted Mr. Betterton,with a slight Elevation of the Eyebrows.

"Because he is a Stourcliffe of Stour, Sir," brokein Sir George Etherege in that loud, blustering wayhe hath at times; "and bears one of the greatestNames in the Land."

"A great Name is hereditary, Sir," rejoined thegreat Actor quietly. "Honesty is not."

"But what does Lady Castlemaine say about itall?" interposed Lord Orrery.

"Lady Castlemaine hath not been questioned onthe subject, I imagine," interposed Sir WilliamDavenant drily.

"Ah!" rejoined His Grace of Buckingham."There you are wrong, Davenant. I rememberspeaking to her Ladyship about Stour oneday—saying how glad I was that he, at any rate, had hadnothing to do with that abominable Affair."

"Well?" came eagerly from every one. "Whatdid she say?"

His Grace remained thoughtful for a time, as iftrying to recollect Something that was eluding hisMemory. Then he said, turning to Mr. Betterton:

"Why, Tom, you were there at the time. DoYou recollect? It was at one of Her Ladyship'sSupper Parties. His Majesty was present. We allfell to talking about the Conspiracy, and the Kingsaid some very bitter things. Then I thought Iwould say something about Stour. You remember?"

"Oh, yes!" replied Mr. Betterton.

"What did Lady Castlemaine say?"

"I don't think she said anything. Methinks sheonly laughed."

"So she did!" assented His Grace; "and winkedat You, you Rogue! I recollect the Circumstanceperfectly now, though I attached no importance toit at the time. But I can see it all before me. HisMajesty frowned and continued to look glum, whilstthe Countess of Castlemaine vowed with a laughthat, anyway, my lord Stour was the handsomestGentleman in London, and that 'twere a pity toallow such a beautiful Head to fall on the Scaffold."

"It certainly sounds very strange," mused myLord Rochester, and fell to talking in Whispers withSir George Etherege, whilst His Grace of Buckinghamwent and sat down beside Mr. Betterton,and obviously started to discuss the Incident of theSupper Party all over again with the great Actor.Other isolated Groups also formed themselves, andI knew that my Lord Stour's Name was on everyone's lips.

Traducement and Gossip is Meat and Drink toall these noble and distinguished Gentlemen, andhere they had something to talk about, which wouldtranscend in Scandal anything that had gonebefore. The story about my Lord Stour wouldspread with the Rapidity which only evil-lovingTongues can give. Alas! my poor Friend knew thatwell enough when he shot his poisoned Arrows intothe Air. I was watching him whilst His Grace ofBuckingham conversed with him: I saw the feverishlykeen look in his eyes as he, in his turn, watchedthe Ball of Slander and Gossip being tossed aboutfrom one Group to another. He said but little,hardly gave Answer to His Grace; but I could seethat he was on the alert, ready with other littlepoisoned Darts whenever he saw Signs of weakeningin the Volume of Backbiting, which he had sodeliberately set going.

"I liked Stour and I admired him," LordRochester said at one time. "I could have swornthat Nature herself had written 'honest man' onhis face."

"Ah!——" interposed Mr. Betterton, with thatquiet Sarcasm which I had learned to dread."Nature sometimes writes with a very bad Pen."

3

It was not to be wondered at that the Scandalagainst my Lord Stour, which was started in theGreen Room of the Theatre, grew in Magnitudewith amazing Rapidity. I could not tell you, dearMistress, what my innermost feelings were inregard to the Matter: being an humble and ignorantClerk and devoted to the one Man to whom I oweeverything that makes life pleasing. I had neitherthe Wish nor the mental Power to tear my Heartto Pieces, in order to find out whether it beat inSympathy with my Friend, or with the Victim ofsuch a complete and deadly Revenge.

My Lord Stour was not then in London. He too,like many of his Friends—notably the Marquis ofSidbury and others not directly accused of Participationin the aborted Plot—had retired to his CountryEstate, probably unwilling to witness the gaietiesof City Life, while those he cared for most werein such dire Sorrow. But now that the LadyBarbara and her Father were once more in Town, therewas little doubt that he too would return therepresently. Since he was a free Man, and LordDouglas Wychwoode had succeeded in evading theLaw, there was no doubt that the natural Elasticityof Youth coupled with the prospect of the happyfuture which lay before him, would soon enable himto pick up the Threads of Life, there where theyhad been so unexpectedly and ruthlessly entangled.

I imagine that when his Lordship first arrived inTown and once more established himself in themagnificent Mansion in Canon's Row which I hadbitter cause to know so well, he did not trulyvisualize the Atmosphere of brooding Suspicion whichencompassed him where e'er he went. If he didnotice that one or two of his former Friends didgive him something of a cold shoulder, I believe thathe would attribute this more to political than topersonal Reasons. He had undoubtedly beenimplicated in a Conspiracy which was universallycondemned for its Treachery and Disloyalty, and nodoubt for a time he would have to bear the bruntof public Condemnation, even though the freePardon, which had so unexpectedly been grantedhim, proved that he had been more misguided thanreally guilty.

His Arrival in London, his Appearance in PublicPlaces, his obvious ignorance of the Cloud whichwas hanging over his fair Name, were the subjectof constant Discussion and Comment in the GreenRoom of the Theatre as well as elsewhere. And Itake it that his very Insouciance, the proudCarelessness wherewith he met the cold Reception whichhad been granted him, would soon have got overthe scandalous tale which constant Gossip alonekept alive, except that one tongue—and onealone—never allowed that Gossip to rest.

And that Tongue was an eloquent as well as abitter one, and more cunning than even I could everhave believed.

How oft in the Green Room, in the midst of abrilliant Company, have I listened to the flippanttalk of gay young Sparks, only to hear it driftinginevitably toward the Subject of my Lord Stour,and of that wholly unexplainable Pardon, whichhad left him a free Man, whilst all his formerAssociates had either perished as Traitors, or were forcedto lead the miserable life of an Exile, far fromHome, Kindred and Friends.

Drifting, did I say? Nay, the Talk wasinvariably guided in that direction by the unerringVoice of a deeply outraged Man who, at last, wastaking his Revenge. A word here, an Insinuationthere, a witty Remark or a shrug of the shoulders,and that volatile sprite, Public Opinion, would veerback from any possible doubt or leniency to theeternally unanswered Riddle: "When so many ofhis Friends perished upon the Scaffold, how was itthat my Lord Stour was free?"

How it had come about I know not, but it iscertain that very soon it became generally knownthat his Lordship had been entrusted by his Friendswith the distribution of Manifestos which were torally certain Waverers to the cause of theConspirators. And it was solemnly averred that it wasin consequence of a Copy of this same Manifesto,together with a list of prominent Names, cominginto the hands of my Lady Castlemaine, that somany Gentlemen were arrested and executed,and my Lord Stour had been allowed to go scot-free.

How could I help knowing that this last Slanderhad emanated from the Green Room, with the objectof laying the final stone to the edifice of Calumnies,which was to crush an Enemy's Reputation and fairFame beyond the hope of Retrieval?

4

A day or two later my Lord Stour, walking witha Friend in St. James's Park, came face to face withMr. Betterton, who had Sir William Davenant andthe Duke of Albemarle with him as well as one ortwo other Gentlemen, whilst he leaned with hiswonted kindness and familiarity on my arm.Mr. Betterton would, I think, have passed by; but myLord Stour, ignoring him as if he were dirt underaristocratic feet, stopped with ostentatious good-willto speak with the General.

But his Grace did in truth give the young Lord avery cold shoulder and Sir William Davenant,equally ostentatiously, started to relate piquantAnecdotes to young Mr. Harry Wordsley, who wasjust up from the country.

I saw my Lord Stour's handsome face darkenwith an angry frown. For awhile he appeared tohesitate as to what he should do, then with scantCeremony he took the Duke of Albemarle by thecoat-sleeve and said hastily:

"My Lord Duke, You and my Father fought sideby side on many occasions. Now, I like not yourAttitude towards me. Will you be pleased toexplain?"

The General tried to evade him, endeavoured todisengage his coat-sleeve, but my Lord Stour wastenacious. A kind of brooding Obstinacy sat uponhis good-looking face, and after awhile he reiteratedwith almost fierce Insistence:

"No! no! you shall not go, my Lord, until Youhave explained. I am tired," he added roughly,"of suspicious looks and covert smiles, anatmosphere of ill-will which greets me at every turn.Politically, many may differ from Me, but I haveyet to learn that a Gentleman hath not the right tohis own Opinions without being cold-shouldered byhis Friends."

The Duke of Albemarle allowed him to talk onfor awhile. His Grace obviously was making uphis mind to take a decisive step in the matter. Aftera while he did succeed in disengaging hiscoat-sleeve from the persistent Clutch of his youngFriend, and then, looking the latter straight betweenthe eyes, he said firmly:

"My Lord, as You say, your Father and I wereFriends and Comrades in Arms. Therefore Youmust forgive an old Man and a plain Soldier apertinent question. Will you do that?"

"Certainly," was my Lord Stour's quiet Reply.

"Very well then," continued His Grace, while allof us who were there held our breath, feeling thatthis Colloquy threatened to have a grave issue."Very well. I am glad that You have given methis opportunity of hearing some sort of Explanationfrom You, for in truth, Rumour of late hathbeen over busy with your Name."

"An Explanation, my Lord?" the young Mansaid, with an added frown.

"Aye!" replied His Grace. "That's just theWord. An Explanation. For I, my Lord, as yourFather's Friend, will ask You this: how is it thatwhile Teammouth, Campsfield and so many of yourAssociates perished upon the Scaffold, You alone,of those implicated in that infamous Plot, did obtainan unconditional Pardon?"

Lord Stour stepped back as if he had been hit inthe face. Boundless Astonishment was expressed inthe Gaze which he fixed upon the General, as wellas wrathful indignation.

"My Lord!" he exclaimed, "that Question is aninsult!"

"Make me swallow mine own Words," retortedHis Grace imperturbably, "by giving me a straightAnswer."

"Mine Answer must be straight," rejoined LordStour firmly, "since it is based on Truth. I donot know."

The Duke shrugged his Shoulders, and there camea sarcastic laugh from more than one of theGentlemen there.

"I give your Lordship my Word of Honour,"Lord Stour insisted haughtily. Then, as His Graceremained silent, with those deep-set eyes of his fixedsearchingly upon the young Man, the latter addedvehemently: "Is then mine Honour in question?"

Whereupon Mr. Betterton, who hitherto hadremained silent, interposed very quietly:

"The honour of some Gentlemen, my Lord, islike the Manifestation of Ghosts—much talked of... but always difficult to prove!"

You know his Voice, dear Mistress, and thatsubtle carrying Power which it has, although henever seems to raise it. After he had spoken Youcould have heard the stirring of every little twig inthe trees above us, for no one said another Wordfor a moment or two. We all stood there, acompact little Group: Lord Stour facing the Duke ofAlbemarle and Mr. Betterton standing a step or twobehind His Grace, his fine, expressive Face set in amask of cruel Irony. Sir William Davenant andthe other Gentlemen had closed in around thosethree. They must have felt that some strange Stormof Passions was brewing, and instinctively they triedto hide its lowering Clouds from public gaze.

Fortunately there were not many Passers-by justthen, and the little Scene remained unnoted by theidly curious, who are ever wont to collect in Crowdswhenever anything strange to them happens toattract their Attention.

My Lord Stour was the first to recover Speech.He turned on Mr. Betterton with unbridled Fury.

"What!" he cried, "another sting from thatvenomous Wasp? I might have guessed that somiserable a Calumny came from such a vile Caitiffas this!"

"Abuse is not Explanation, my Lord," interposedthe Duke of Albemarle firmly. "And I mustremind you that you have left my Question unanswered."

"Put it more intelligibly, my Lord," retortedLord Stour haughtily. "I might then know howto reply."

"Very well," riposted His Grace, still apparentlyunmoved. "I will put it differently. I understandthat your Associates entrusted their treasonableManifestos to you. Is that a fact?"

"I'll not deny it."

"You cannot," rejoined the Duke drily. "SirJames Campsfield, in the course of his Trial,admitted that he had received his Summons throughYou. But a Copy of that Manifesto came into thehands of my Lady Castlemaine just in time to causethe Conspiracy to abort. How was that?"

"Some Traitor," replied Lord Stour hotly, "ofwhom I have no Cognizance."

"Yet it was You," riposted the General quietly,"who received a free Pardon ... no one else.How was that?" he reiterated more sternly.

"I have sworn to You that I do not know,"protested my Lord Stour fiercely.

He looked now like a Man at Bay, trapped in aNet which was closing in around him and fromwhich he was striving desperately to escape. Hisface was flushed, his eyes glowed with an unnaturalfire. And always his restless gaze came back toMr. Betterton, who stood by, calm and impassive,apparently disinterested in this Colloquy wherein aman's Honour was being tossed about to the Windsof Slander and of Infamy. Now Lord Stour gazedaround him, striving to find one line of genuineSympathy on the stern Faces which were confronting him.

"My word of Honour, Gentlemen," he exclaimedwith passionate Earnestness, "that I do not know."

Honestly, I think that one or two of them didfeel for him and were inclined to give him Credence.After all, these young Fops are not wicked; theyare only mischievous, as Children or young Puppiesare wont to be, ready to snarl at one another, toyap and to tear to pieces anything that happens tocome in their way. Moreover, there was the greatbond of Caste between these People. They were,in their innermost Hearts, loth to believe that oneof themselves—a Gentleman, one bearing a greatName—could be guilty of this type of foul Crimewhich was more easily attributable to a Plebeian.It was only their Love of Scandal-monging and ofBackbiting that had kept the Story alive all theseweeks. Even now there were one or twosympathetic Murmurs amongst those present when myLord Stour swore by his Honour.

But just then Mr. Betterton's voice was heardquite distinctly above that Murmur:

"Honour is a strangely difficult word topronounce on the Stage," he was saying to Sir WilliamDavenant, apparentlyá propos of something thelatter had remarked just before. "You try andsay it, Davenant; you will see how it alwaysdislocates your Jaw, yet produces no effect."

"Therefore, Mr. Actor," Lord Stour broke inroughly, "it should only be spoken by those whohave a glorious Ancestry behind them to teach themits true Significance."

"Well spoken, my Lord," Mr. Betterton rejoinedplacidly. "But you must remember that but fewof His Majesty's Servants have a line of gloriousAncestry behind them. In that way they differ frommany Gentlemen who, having nothing but theirAncestry to boast of, are very like a Turnip—the bestof them is under the ground."

This Sally was greeted with loud Laughter, andby a subtle process which I could not possibly define,the wave of Sympathy which was setting in thedirection of my Lord Stour, once more recededfrom him, leaving him wrathful and obstinate, HisGrace of Albemarle stern, and the young Fopsflippant and long-tongued as before.

"My Lord Stour," the General now broke in oncemore firmly, "'tis You sought this Explanation, notI. Now You have left my Question unanswered.Your Friends entrusted their Manifestos to You.How came one of these in Lady Castlemaine's hands?"

And the young Man, driven to bay, facing halfa dozen pairs of eyes that held both Contempt andEnmity in their glance, reiterated hoarsely:

"I have sworn to You that I do not know."Then he added: "Hath Loyalty then left thisunfortunate Land, that You can all believe such a vilething of me?"

And in the silence that ensued, Mr. Betterton'sperfectly modulated Voice was again raised inquietly sarcastic accents:

"As You say, my Lord," he remarked. "Loyaltyhath left this unfortunate Country. Perhaps," headded with a light shrug of the shoulders, "to takeRefuge with your glorious Ancestry."

This last Gibe, however, brought my Lord Stour'sexasperation to a raging Fury. Pushingunceremoniously past His Grace of Albemarle, who stoodbefore him, he took a step forward and confrontedMr. Betterton eye to eye and, drawing himself upto his full Height, he literally glowered down uponthe great Artist, who stood his Ground, placid andunmoved.

"Insolent Varlet!" came in raucous tones fromthe young Lord's quivering lips. "If you had aspark of chivalry or of honour in You——"

At the arrogant Insult every one drew theirbreath. A keen Excitement flashed in every eye.Here was at last a Quarrel, one that must end inbloodshed. Just what was required—so thoughtthese young Rakes, I feel sure—to clear theAtmosphere and to bring abstruse questions ofSuspicion and of Honour to a level which they could allof them understand. Only the Duke of Albemarle,who, like a true and great Soldier, hath the greatestpossible Abhorrence for the gentlemanly Pastimeof Duelling, tried to interpose. But Mr. Betterton,having provoked the Quarrel, required no interferencefrom any one. You know his way, dearMistress, as well as I do—that quiet Attitude which heis wont to assume, that fraction of a second'sabsolute Silence just before he begins to speak. I knowof no Elocutionist's trick more telling than that. Itseems to rivet the Attention, and at the same timeto key up Excitement and Curiosity to its greatest strain.

"By your leave, my Lord," he said slowly, andhis splendid Voice rose just to a sufficient pitch ofLoudness to be distinctly heard by those immediatelynear him, but not one yard beyond. "By yourleave, let us leave the word 'honour' out of ourtalk. It hath become ridiculous and obsolete, nowthat every Traitor doth use it for his own ends."

But in truth my Lord Stour now was besidehimself with Fury.

"By gad!" he exclaimed with a harsh laugh."I might have guessed that it was your pestilentialTongue which stirred up this Treason against me.Liar!—Scoundrel!——"

He was for heaping up one Insult upon the other,lashing himself as it were into greater Fury still,when Mr. Betterton's quietly ironical laugh brokein upon his senseless ebullitions.

"Liar?—Scoundrel, am I?" he said lightly, and,still laughing, he turned to the Gentlemen who stoodbeside him. "Nay! if the sight of a Scoundreloffends his Lordship, he should shut himself up inhis own Room ... and break his Mirror!"

At this, my Lord Stour lost the last vestige of hisself-control, seized Mr. Betterton by the Shoulderand verily, I thought, made as if he would strike him.

"You shall pay for this Insolence!" he cried.

But already, with perfectsang-froid, the greatArtist had arrested his Lordship's uplifted hand andwrenched it away from his shoulder.

"By your leave, my Lord," he said, and withdelicate Fingers flicked the dust from off his coat."This coat was fashioned by an honest tailor, andhath never been touched by a Traitor's hand."

I thought then that I could see Murder writplainly on My Lord's face, which was suddenlybecome positively livid. The Excitement around uswas immense. In truth I am convinced that everyGentleman there present at the moment, felt thatsomething more deep and more intensely bitter layat the Root of this Quarrel, between the youngLord and the great and popular Artist. Even nowsome of them would have liked to interfere, whilstthe younger ones undoubtedly enjoyed the Spectacleand were laying, I doubt not, imaginary Wagers asto which of the two Disputants would remainMaster of the Situation.

His Grace of Albemarle tried once more to interposewith all the Authority of his years and of hisdistinguished Position, for indeed there wassomething almost awesome in Lord Stour's Wrath bynow. But Mr. Betterton took the Words at onceout of the great General's mouth.

"Nay, my Lord," he said with quiet Firmness,"I pray You, do not interfere. I am in no danger,I assure You. My Lord Stour would wish to killme, no doubt. But, believe me, Fate did not ordainthat Tom Betterton should die by such a hand... the fickle Jade hath too keen a Sense ofHumour."

Whereupon he made a movement, as if to walkaway. I felt the drag upon my arm where hisslender hand was still resting. The Others weresilent. What could they say? Senseless Numskullsthough they were for the most part, they had enoughPerception to realize that between these two Menthere was Hatred so bitter that no mereGentlemanly Bloodshed could ever wipe it away.

But ere Mr. Betterton finally turned to go, myLord of Stour stepped out in front of him. All theRage appeared to have died out of him. He wasoutwardly quite calm, only a weird twitching of hislips testified to the Storm of Passion which he hadmomentarily succeeded in keeping under control.

"Mr. Actor," he said slowly, "but a few Weeksago You asked me to cross swords with You....I refused then, for up to this hour I have neverfought a Duel save with an Equal. But now, Iaccept," he added forcefully, even while the Wordscame veiled and husky from his throat. "I accept.Do You hear me? ... for the laws of Englanddo not permit a Murder, and as sure as there's aHeaven above me, I am going to kill You."

Mr. Betterton listened to him until the end. Youknow that Power which he hath of seeming to towerabove every one who stands nigh him? Well! heexercised that Power now. He stepped quite closeto my Lord Stour, and though the latter is of morethan average height, Mr. Betterton literallyappeared to soar above him, with the sublimeMagnificence of an outraged Man coming into his ownat last.

"My Lord of Stour," he said, with perfectquietude, "a few weeks ago you insulted me asMan never dared to insult Man before. With everyblow dealt upon my shoulders by your Lacqueys,You outraged the Majesty of Genius ... yes! itsMajesty! ... its Godhead! ... You raisedyour insolent hand against me—against me, theArtist, whom God Himself hath crowned withImmortality. For a moment then, my outragedManhood clamoured for satisfaction. I asked You tocross swords with me, for You seemed to me... then ... worthy of that Honour. But to-day,my Lord of Stour," he continued, whilst everyWord he spoke seemed to strike upon the ear likeBlows from a relentless Hammer; "Traitor to yourFriends, Liar and Informer!!!! Bah! HisMajesty's Well-Beloved Servant cannot fight withsuch as You!"

In truth I do not remember what happened afterthat. The unutterable Contempt, the Disgust, theLoathing expressed in my Friend's whole Attitude,seemed to hit even me between the eyes. I felt as ifsome giant Hands had thrown a kind of filmy greyveil over my Head, for I heard and saw nothingsave a blurred and dim Vision of uplifted Arms, ofclenched Fists and of a general Scrimmage, of whichmy Lord Stour appeared to be the Centre, whilstmy ears only caught the veiled Echo of Words flunghoarsely into the air:

"Let me go! Let me go! I must kill him! I must!"

Mr. Betterton, on the other hand, remainedperfectly calm. I felt a slight pressure on my arm andpresently realized that he and I had turned and werewalking away down the Avenue of the Park, andleaving some way already behind us, a seething massof excited Gentlemen, all intent on preventingMurder being committed then and there.

What the outcome of it all would be, I could notvisualize. Mr. Betterton had indeed been able togive Insult for Insult and Outrage for Outrage atlast. For this he had schemed and worked andplanned all these weeks. Whether God and Justicewere on his side in this terrible Revenge, I darednot ask myself, nor yet if the Weapon which he hadchosen were worthy of his noble Character and ofhis Integrity. That public Opinion was on his side,I concluded from the fact that the Duke ofAlbemarle and Sir William Davenant both walked a fewyards with him after he had turned his back on myLord, and that His Grace constituting himselfSpokesman for himself and Sir William, offeredtheir joint Services to Mr. Betterton in case hechanged his mind and agreed to fight my Lord Stourin duel.

"I thank your Grace," was Mr. Betterton'scourteous reply; "but I am not like to change myMind on that Score."

CHAPTER XIII

THE LADY PLEADS

1

I am not able quite to determine in my own mindwhether the Lady Barbara Wychwoode did hear andsee something of the violent Scene which I havejust attempted to describe.

I told You, dear Mistress, that fortunately forus all, this part of the Park where the Sceneoccurred was for the moment practically deserted. Atany rate, no Crowd collected around us, for which,methinks, we were, every one of us, thankful. Ifa few of the Passers-by heard anything of thealtercation, they merely hurried past, thinking no doubt,that it was only one or two young City Sparks, nonetoo sober even at this morning hour, who werequarrelling among themselves.

When we walked away down the Avenue whichleads in the direction of Knight's Bridge,Mr. Betterton's well-known, elegant figure was remarkedby a few Pedestrians on their way to and fro, aswas also the familiar one of the Duke of Albemarle,and some People raised their hats to the great Artist,whilst others saluted the distinguished General.

Presently His Grace and Sir William Davenanttook leave of Mr. Betterton, and a few momentslater the latter suggested that we should also beginto wend our way homewards.

We retraced our steps and turned back in thedirection of Westminster. Mr. Betterton wassilent; he walked quite calmly, with head bent andfirm footsteps, and I, knowing his humour, walkedalong in silence by his side.

Then suddenly we came upon the Lady Barbara.

That she had sought this meeting I could notdoubt for a moment. Else, how should a Lady ofher Rank and Distinction be abroad, and in a publicPark, unattended? Indeed, I was quite sure thatshe had only dismissed her maid when she sawMr. Betterton coming along, and that the Wench waslurking somewhere behind one of the shrubberies,ready to accompany her Ladyship home when theinterview was at an end.

I said that I am even now doubtful as to whetherthe Lady Barbara saw and heard something of theviolent Altercation which had taken place a quarterof an hour ago between her Lover and the greatActor. If not, she certainly displayed on thatoccasion that marvellous intuition which is said to bethe prerogative of every Woman when she is in love.

She was walking on the further side of RosamondPond when first I caught sight of her, andwhen she reached the Bridge, she came deliberatelyto a halt. There is no other way across the Pondsave by the Bridge, so Mr. Betterton could not haveescaped the meeting even if he would. Seeing theLady, he raised his hat and made a deep bow ofrespectful salutation. He then crossed the Bridgeand made as if he would pass by, but she held herGround, in the very centre of the Path, and whenhe was quite near her, she said abruptly:

"Mr. Betterton, I desire a word with you."

He came at once to a halt, and replied withperfect deference:

"I await your Ladyship's commands."

2

I was for hurrying away, thinking that myPresence would be irksome both to the Lady and to myFriend; but an unmistakable pressure of Mr. Betterton'shand on my arm caused me to stay whereI was. As for the Lady, she appeared not to carewhether I stayed or went, for immediately sheretorted:

"My commands, Sir Actor? They are, that youat once and completely do Reparation for the wrongwhich you are trying to do to an innocent Man."

She looked proud and commanding as a Queen,looking through the veil of her lashes at Mr. Bettertonas if he were a supplicating Slave rather thanthe great Artist whom cultured Europe delighted tohonour. Never did I admire my Friend so muchas I did then. His self-possession was perfect: hisattitude just the right balance 'twixt deference dueto a beautiful Woman and the self-assurance whichcomes of conscious Worth. He looked splendid,too—dressed in the latest fashion and with unerringtaste. The fantastic cut of his modish clothesbecame his artistic Personality to perfection: the softshade of mulberry of which his coat was fashionedmade an harmonious note of colour in the soft greymist of this late winter's morning. The lace at histhroat and wrists was of unspeakable value, filmyand gossamer-like in texture as a cobweb; and inhis cravat glittered a diamond, a priceless gift to thegreat English Artist from the King of France.

Indeed, the Lady Barbara Wychwoode mightlook the world-famous Actor up and down withwell-studied superciliousness; she might issue hercommands to him as if she were his royal Mistressand he but a Menial set there to obey her behest;but, whatever she did, she could not dwarf hisPersonality. He had become too great for disdain orsneers ever to touch him again; and the shafts ofscorn aimed at him by those who would set mereBirth above the claims of Genius, would only findtheir points broken or blunted against theimpenetrable armour of his Glory and his Fame.

For the nonce, I think that he was ready enoughto parley with the Lady Barbara. He had not tomy knowledge spoken with her since that neverforgotten day last September; and I, notunderstanding the complex workings of an Artist's heart,knew not if his Love for her had outlived the cryingoutrage, or had since then turned to Hate.

In answer to her peremptory command, heassumed an air of innocent surprise.

"I?" he queried. "Your Ladyship is pleased tospeak in riddles."

"Nay!" she retorted. "'Tis you, Sir, whochoose not to understand. But I'll speak moreplainly, an you wish. I am a woman, Mr. Actor,and I love the Earl of Stour. Now, you know justas well as I do, that his Lordship's honour has oflate been impugned in a manner that is mostmysterious. His Friends accuse him of treachery; evenmere Acquaintances prefer to give him the coldshoulder. And this without any definite Indictmentbeing levelled against him. Many there are whowill tell You that they have not the faintestconception of what crime my Lord Stour standsaccused. Others aver that they'll not believe anySlander that may be levelled against so high-souleda Gentleman. Nevertheless, the Slander continues.Nay! it gathers volume as it worms its way fromone house to another, shedding poison in its wakeas it drifts by; and more and more People nowaffect to look another way when the Earl of Stourcomes nigh them, and to be otherwise engaged whenhe desires to shake them by the hand."

She paused for a moment, obviously to regain herComposure, which was threatening to leave her.Her cheeks were pale as ashes, her breath came andwent in quick, short gasps. The Picture which sheherself had drawn of her Lover's plight caused herheart to ache with bitterness. She seemed for themoment to expect something—a mere comment,perhaps, or a word of Sympathy, from Mr. Betterton.But none came. He stood there, silent anddeferential, with lips firmly set, his slender Handclutched upon the gold knob of his stick, till theknuckles shone creamy-white, like ivory. Heregarded her with an air of Detachment rather thanSympathy, and though by her silence she appearedto challenge him now, he did not speak, and afterawhile she resumed more calmly:

"My Lord of Stour himself is at his wits' endsto interpret the attitude of his Friends. Nothingtangible in the way of a spoken Calumny hath asyet reached his ears. And his life has been renderedall the more bitter that he feels that he is beingstruck by a persistent but mysterious Foe in whathe holds dearer than aught else on earth, hisIntegrity and his Honour."

"'Tis a sad case," here rejoined Mr. Betterton,for her Ladyship had paused once more. "But, byyour leave, I do not see in what way it concerns me."

"Nay! but I think you do, Sir Actor," LadyBarbara riposted harshly. "Love and Hate,remember, see clearly where mere Friendship andIndifference are blind. Love tells me that the Earlof Stour's Integrity is Unstained, his Honourunsullied. But the Hatred which you bear him,"added her Ladyship almost fiercely, "makes me lookto You for the cause of his Disgrace."

No one, however, could have looked more utterlyastonished, more bland and uncomprehending, asMr. Betterton did at that moment. He put up hishand and regarded the Lady with an indulgentsmile, such as one would bestow on a hot-headed Child.

"Nay, your Ladyship!" he said courteously."I fear that you are attributing to an humbleMountebank a power he doth not possess. Todisgrace a noble Gentleman?" he exclaimed withwell-feigned horror. "I?—a miserable Varlet—aninsolent cur whom one thrashes if he dares to bark!"

"Ah!" she broke in, with a swift exclamation."Then I have guessed the truth! This is your Revenge!"

"Revenge?" he queried blandly. "For what?"

"You hate the Earl of Stour," she retorted.

Once more his well-shaped hand went up, as if ingentle protest, and he uttered a kind and deprecating "Oh!"

"You look upon the Earl of Stour as yourenemy!" she insisted.

"I have so many, your Ladyship," he ripostedwith a smile.

"'Twas you who obtained his Pardon from myLady Castlemaine."

"The inference is scarcely logical," he retorted."A man does not as a rule sue for pardon for his Enemy."

"I think," she rejoined slowly, "that in this caseMr. Betterton did the illogical thing."

"Then I do entreat your Ladyship," heprotested with mock terror, "not to repeat thiscalumny.I, accused of a noble action! Tom Bettertonpardoning his Enemies! Why, my friendsmight believe it, and it is so difficult these days tolive down a good Reputation."

"You choose to sharpen your wit at my expense,Sir Actor," the lady rejoined with her formerhaughtiness, "and to evade the point."

"What is the point, your Ladyship?" he queriedblandly.

"That you set an end to all these Calumnieswhich are levelled against the Earl of Stour."

"How can we stay the Sun in his orbit?" heretorted; "or the Stars in their course?"

"You mean that your Campaign of Slander hasalready gone too far? But remember this,Mr. Betterton: that poisoned darts sometimes wound thehand that throws them. You may pursue the Earlof Stour with your Hatred and your Calumnies,but God will never allow an innocent Man to sufferunjustly."

Just for a few seconds Mr. Betterton was silent.He was still regarding the Lady with that sameindulgent smile which appeared to irritate her nerves.To me, the very air around seemed to ring as ifwith a clash of ghostly arms—the mighty clash oftwo Wills and two Temperaments, each fighting forwhat it holds most dear: she for the Man whom sheloved, he for his Dignity which had been so cruellyoutraged.

"God will never allow," she reiterated with slowemphasis, "an innocent Man to suffer at the handsof a Slanderer."

"Ah!" riposted Mr. Betterton suavely. "Isyour Ladyship not reckoning over-confidently onDivine interference?"

"I also reckon," she retorted, "on His Majesty'ssense of justice—and on the Countess of Castlemaine,who must know the truth of the affair."

"His Majesty's senses are very elusive," herejoined drily, "and are apt to play him somewayward tricks when under the influence of theCountess of Castlemaine. The Earl of Stour, it seems,disdained the favours which that Lady was willingto bestow on him. He preferred the superiorcharms and intellect of the Lady BarbaraWychwoode. A very natural preference, of course," headded, with elaborate gallantry. "But I can assureyour Ladyship that, as Helpmeets to heavenlyInterference, neither His Majesty nor the Countessof Castlemaine are to be reckoned with."

She bit her lip and cast her eyes to the ground.I could see that her lovely face expressed acutedisappointment and that she was on the verge of tears.I am not versed in the ways of gentle Folk nor yetin those of Artists, but I could have told the LadyBarbara Wychwoode that if she wanted to obtainSympathy or Leniency from Mr. Betterton, she hadgone quite the wrong way to work.

Even now, I think if she had started to plead... but the thought of humbling herself beforea Man whom she affected to despise was as farfrom this proud Woman's heart, as are thoughtsof self-glorification from mine.

A second or two later she had succeeded inforcing back the tears which had welled to her eyes,and she was able once more to look her Adversarystraight in the face.

"And will you tell me, Sir Actor," she queriedwith cold aloofness, "how far you intend to carryon this Infamy?"

And Mr. Betterton replied, equally coldly anddeliberately:

"To the uttermost limits of the Kingdom, Madam."

"What do you mean?" she riposted.

He drew a step or two nearer to her. His facetoo was pale by now, his lips trembling, his eyesaglow with Passion masterfully kept under control.His perfect voice rose and fell in those modulatedCadences which we have all learned to appreciate.

"Only this, your Ladyship," he began quiteslowly. "For the present, the History of the Earlof Stour's treachery is only guessed at by a few.It is a breath of Scandal, born as you say somewhatmysteriously, wafted through Palaces and nobleMansions to-day—dead, mayhap, to-morrow. ButI have had many opportunities for thought of late,"he continued—and it seemed to me as if in hisquivering voice I could detect a tone of Threat aswell as of Passion—"and have employed my leisuremoments in writing an Epilogue which I proposeto speak to-morrow, after the Play, His Majesty andall the Court being present, and many Gentlemenand Ladies of high degree, as well as Burgesses andMerchants of the City, and sundry Clerks and otherhumbler Folk. A comprehensive Assembly, what? andan attentive one; for that low-born Mountebank,Tom Betterton, will be appearing in a newplay and the Playhouse will be filled to the roof inorder to do him honour. May I hope that the LadyBarbara Wychwoode herself——"

"A truce on this foolery, Sir," she broke inharshly. "I pray you come to the point."

She tried to look brave and still haughty, but Iknew that she was afraid—knew it by the almostunearthly pallor of her skin, and the weird glitterin her eyes as she regarded him, like a Birdfascinated by a Snake.

"The point is the Epilogue, my Lady," Mr. Bettertonreplied blandly. "And after I have spokenit to-morrow, I shall speak it again and yet again,until its purport is known throughout the lengthand breadth of the Land. The subject of thatEpilogue, Madam, will be the secret History of a certainaborted Conspiracy, and how it was betrayed inexchange for a free Pardon by one of our noblestGentlemen in England. Then, I pray yourLadyship to mark what will happen," he continued, andhis melodious voice became as hard and trenchant asthe clang of metal striking metal. "After thatEpilogue has been spoken from the Stage half a dozentimes after His Majesty has heard it and shruggedhis shoulders, after my Lady Castlemaine haslaughed over it and my Lord of Rochester aped itin one of his Pasquinades, there will be a man whoseName will be a by-word for everything that is mostinfamous and most false—a Name that will bebandied about in Taverns and in drinking Booths,quipped, decried, sneered at, anathematized; aName that will be the subject of every lampoon andevery scurrilous rhyme that finds over-readypurchasers—a Name, in fact, that will for ever bewhispered with bated breath or bandied about in adrunken brawl, whene'er there is talk of treacheryand of dishonour!"

At this, she—great Lady to her finger tips—threwup her head proudly, still defying him, stillstriving to hide her Fears and unwilling toacknowledge Defeat.

"It will be your Word against his," she said witha disdainful curl of her perfect lips. "No onewould listen to such calumnies."

And he—the world-famed Artist—at least asproud as any high born Gentleman in the Land,retorted, equally haughtily:

"When Tom Betterton speaks upon the Stage,my Lady, England holds her breath and listensspellbound."

I would I could render the noble Accent of hismagnificent Voice as he said this. There was noself-glorification in it, no idle boasting; it was theaccent of transcendent Worth conscious of its Power.

And it had its effect upon the Lady BarbaraWychwoode. She lowered her Eyes, but not beforeI had perceived that they were full of Tears; herLips were trembling still, but no longer withDisdain, and her hands suddenly dropped to her sidewith a pathetic gesture of Discouragement and ofAnguish.

The next moment, however, she was againlooking the great Actor fully in the face. A changehad come over her, quite suddenly methought—agreat Change, which had softened her Mood and toa certain extent lowered her Pride. Whether thiswas the result of Mr. Betterton's forcefulEloquence or of her own Will-power, I could not guess;but I myself marvelled at the Tone of Entreatywhich had crept into her Voice.

"You will not speak such Falsehoods in Public,Sir," she said with unwonted softness. "You willnot thus demean your Art—the Art which you loveand hold in respect. Oh, there must be someNobility in You! else you were not so talented. YourSoul must in truth be filled with Sentiments whichare neither ignoble nor base."

"Nay!" he exclaimed, and this time did notstrive to conceal the intense Bitterness which, asI knew well enough, had eaten into his very Soul;"but your Ladyship is pleased to forget. I amignoble and base! There cannot be Nobility in me.I am only the low-born Lout! Ask my Lord ofStour; ask your Brother! They will tell you that Ihave no Feelings, no Pride, no Manhood—that Iam only a despicable Varlet, whom every Gentlemanmay mock and insult and whip like a dog. To Youand to your Caste alone belong Nobility, Pride andHonour. Honour!!!"—and he broke into aprolonged laugh, which would have rent your Heart tohear—"Honour! Your false Fetish! Your counterfeitGod!! Very well, then so be it!! Thatvery Honour which he hath denied me, I will wrenchfrom him. And since he denied me Satisfaction bythe Sword, I turn to my own weapon—my Art—andwith it I will exact from him to the uttermostfraction, Outrage for Outrage—Infamy for Infamy."

His wonderful Voice shook, broke almost into asob at last. I felt a choking sensation in my Throatand my Eyes waxed hot with unshed Tears. As ifthrough a mist, I could see the exquisite LadyBarbara Wychwoode before me, could see that she, too,was moved, her Pride crushed, her Disdain yieldingto involuntary Sympathy.

"But he is innocent!" she pleaded, with anaccent verging on Despair.

"And so was I!" was his calm retort.

"He——" she entreated, "he loves me——"

"And so do I!" he exclaimed, with a depth ofPassion which brought the hot Blood to her paleCheeks. "I would have given my Life for oneSmile from your Lips."

Whereupon, womanlike, she shifted her ground,looked him straight between the Eyes, and, oh! Icould have blushed to see the Wiles she used in orderto weaken his Resolve.

"You love me?" she queried softly, and therewas now a tone of almost tender Reproach in herVoice. "You love me! yet you would drag theMan who is dearer to me than Life to Dishonourand to Shame. You trap him, like a Fowler doesa Bird, then crush him with Falsehoods andCalumnies! No, no!" she exclaimed—came a stepor two nearer to him and clasped her delicate Handstogether in a Gesture that was akin to Prayer. "I'llnot believe it! You will tell the Truth, Mr. Betterton,publicly, and clear him.... Youwill.... You will! For my sake—since Yousay You love me."

But the more eager, the more appealing she grew,the calmer and more calculating did he seem. Nowit was his turn to draw away from Her, to measureHer, as it were, with a cold, appraising Look.

"For Your sake?" he said with perfect quietude,almost as if the matter had become outside himself.I cannot quite explain the air of detachment whichhe assumed—for it was an assumption, on that Iwould have staked my Life at the moment. I, whoknow him so well, felt that deep down within hisnoble Heart there still burned the fierce flames ofan ardent Passion, but whether of Love or Hate,I could not then have told You.

She had recoiled at the coolness of his Tone;and he went on, still speaking with that strange,abnormal Calm:

"Yes!" he said slowly, "forYour love I woulddo what You ask ... I would forego that Feastof Satisfaction, the Thought of which hath alonekept me sane these past few months.... Yes! forthe Love of Lady Barbara Wychwoode I couldbring myself to forgive even his Lordship of Stourfor the irreparable wrong which he hath done toMe. I would restore to him his Honour, whichnow lies, a Forfeit, in my Hands: for I shall thenhave taken Something from him which he holdswell-nigh as dear."

He paused, and met with the same calm relentlessnessthe look of Horror and of Scorn wherewithshe regarded him.

"For my Love?" she exclaimed, and once morethe warm Blood rushed up to her face, flooding herwan Cheeks, her pale Forehead, even her delicateThroat with crimson. "You mean thatI? ... Oh! ... what Infamy! ... So, Mr. Actor,that was your reckoning!" she went on withsupreme Disdain. "It was not the desire forVengeance that prompted You to slander the Earl of Stour,but the wish to entrapme into becoming your Wife.You are not content with Your Laurels. You wanta Coat of Arms ... and hoped to barter oneagainst Your Calumnies!"

"Nay, your Ladyship!" he rejoined simply, "ineffect, I was actually laying a Name famedthroughout the cultured world humbly at your feet. Youmade an appeal to my Love for You—and I laid atest for your Sincerity. Mine I have placed beyondquestion, seeing that I am prepared to drag myGenius in the dust before Your Pride and theArrogance of Your Caste. An Artist is a Slave of hisSensibilities, and I feel that if, in the near Future,I could see a Vision of your perfect hand restingcontent in mine, if, when You pleaded again for myLord Stour, You did so as my promised Wife—nothis—I would do all that You asked."

She drew herself up to her full height and glancedat him with all the Pride which awhile ago hadseemed crushed beyond recall.

"Sir Actor," she said coldly, "shame had grippedme by the throat, or I should not have listened solong to such an Outrage. The Bargain Youpropose is an Infamy and an Insult."

And she gathered up her Skirts around her, asif their very contact with the Soil on which he trodwere a pollution. Then she half turned as if readyto go, cast a rapid glance at the Shrubberies closeby, no doubt in search of her Attendant. Why itwas that she did not actually go, I could not say,but guessed that, mayhap, she would not vacate theField of Contention until quite sure that there wasnot a final Chance to soften the Heart of the Enemy.She had thrown down yet another Challenge whenshe spoke of his proposed Bargain as an Infamy;but he took up the Gage with the same measuredCalm as before.

"As you will," he said. "It was in YourLadyship's name that the Earl of Stour put upon Methe deadliest Insult which any Man hath ever puton Man before. Since then, every Fibre within Mehas clamoured for Satisfaction. My Work hathbeen irksome to me ... I scarce could think... My Genius lay writhing in an agony ofShame. But now the hour is mine—for it I haveschemed and lied—aye, lied—like the low-born curYou say I am. A thousand Devils of Hate and ofRage are unchained within me. I cannot grapplewith them alone. They would only yield—to your kiss."

"Oh!" she cried in uttermost despair, "this ishorrible!"

"Then let the Man you love," he rejoined coldly,"look to himself."

"Conscious of his Innocence, my Lord Stour andI defy you!"

"Ah, well!" he said imperturbably, "the Choiceis still with Your Ladyship. Remember that I donot speak my Epilogue until to-morrow. When Ido, it will be too late. I have called my Phantasy'The Comedie of Traitors.'"

Whereupon he bowed low before her, in the mostapproved Fashion. But already she was fleeing upthe path in the direction of Westminster. Soon hergraceful Figure was lost to our sight behind anintervening clump of Laurels. Here no doubt herLadyship's Attendant was waiting for her Mistress,for anon I spied two figures hurrying out of the Park.

3

For a long time Mr. Betterton remained standingjust where he was, one hand still clutching the knobof his Stick, the other thrust in the pocket of hiscapacious Coat. I could not see his Face, since hisBack was turned towards me, and I did not daremove lest I should be interrupting his Meditations.But to Me, even that Back was expressive. Therewas a listlessness, hardly a stoop, about it, so unlikemy Friend's usual firm and upright Carriage. Howcould this be otherwise, seeing what he had justgone through—Emotions that would have sweptmost Men off their mental balance. Yet he kepthis, had never once lost control of himself. He hadmet Disdain with Disdain in the end, had keptsufficient control over his Voice to discuss with absolutecalm, that Bargain which the Lady Barbara hadtermed infamous. There had been a detachmentabout his final Ultimatum, a "take it or leave it"air, which must have been bitterly galling to theproud Lady who had stooped to entreat. He washolding the winning Hand and did not choose to yield.

And it was from his attitude on that Day that I,dear Mistress, drew an unerring inference.Mr. Betterton had no Love for the Lady Barbara, nogenuine, lasting Affection such as, I maintain, hehas never ceased to feel for You. Passion swayedhim, because he has, above all, that unexplainableartistic Temperament which cannot be measured byeveryday Standards. Pride, Bitterness,Vengefulness—call it what you will; but there was not aparticle of Love in it all. I verily believe that hischief Desire, whilst he stood pondering there at thebridgehead, was to humiliate the Lady BarbaraWychwoode by forcing her into a Marriage whichshe had affected to despise. He was not waiting forher with open, loving Arms, ready to take her to hisHeart, there to teach her to forget the Past in thesafe haven of his Love. He was not waiting to layhis Service at her feet, and to render her happy asthe cherished Wife and Helpmate of the great Artistwhom all England delighted to honour. He wasonly waiting to make her feel that She had beensubjected to his Will and her former Lover broughtdown to Humiliation, through the Power of themiserable Mountebank whom they had both deemedless than a Man.

Thus meditating, I stood close to my Friend, untilChance or a fleeting Thought brought him back tothe realities of Life. He sighed and looked abouthim, as a Man will who hath just wakened from aDream. Then he spied me, and gave me his wontedkindly smile and glance.

"Good old John!" he said, with a self-deprecatingshrug of the shoulders. "'Twas not an edifyingScene You have witnessed, eh?"

"'Twas a heartrending one," I riposted almostinvoluntarily.

"Heartrending?" he queried, in a tone of intensebitterness, "to watch a Fool crushing every NobleInstinct within him for the sake of getting evenwith a Man whom he neither honours nor esteems?"

He sighed again, and beckoned to me to follow him.

"Let us home, good Honeywood," he said. "Iam weary of all this wrangle, and pine to find solaceamong the Poets."

Nor did he mention the name of the Lady Barbaraagain to me, and I was left to ponder what wasgoing on in his Mind and whether his cruellyvengeful Scheme for the final undoing of my Lord Stourwould indeed come to maturity on the followingday. I knew that a great and brilliant Representationof the late Mr. William Shakespeare's play,"Twelfth Night," was to be given at the Duke'sTheatre, with some of the new Scenery and realisticscenic Effects brought over last Autumn from Parisby Mr. Betterton. His Majesty had definitelypromised that he would be present and so had theCountess of Castlemaine, and there would doubtless bea goodly and gorgeous Company present to applaudthe great Actor, whose Performance of Sir TobyBelch was one of the Marvels of histrionic Art,proclaiming as it did his wonderful versatility, bycontrast with his equally remarkable exposition ofthe melancholy Hamlett, Prince of Denmark.

That I now awaited that Day with Sorrow inmy Heart and with measureless Anxiety, You, dearMistress, will readily imagine. Until this morningI had no idea of the terrible Thunderbolt which myFriend had in preparation for those who had soshamefully wronged him; and I still marvelledwhether in his talk with the Lady Barbara there hadnot lurked some idle Threats rather than a seriousWarning. How could I think of the Man whomI had learned to love and to reverence as one whowould nurture such cruel Schemes? And yet, didnot the late Mr. Shakespeare warn us that"Pleasure and Revenge have ears more deaf than Addersto the voice of any true decision"? Ah, me! butI was sick at heart.

CHAPTER XIV

THE RULING PASSION

1

And now, dear Mistress, I come to that memorableEvening wherein happened that which causesYou so much heart-ache at this Hour.

I know that the Occurrences of that Night havebeen brought to your Notice in a garbled Version,and that Mr. Betterton's Enemies have placed theMatter before You in a manner calculated to blackenhis Integrity. But, as there is a living Judge aboveUs all, I swear to You, beloved Mistress, that whatI am now purposing to relate is nothing but theTruth. Remember that, in this miserable Era ofScandal and Backbiting, of loose Living andSenseless Quarrels, Mr. Betterton's Character has alwaysstood unblemished, even though the evil Tongue ofMalice hath repeatedly tried to attack hisuntarnished Reputation. Remember also that the greatActor's few but virulent Enemies are all Men whohave made Failures of their Lives, who are Idlers,Sycophants or Profligates, and therefore envious ofthe Fame and Splendour of one who is thoughtworthy to be the Friend of Kings.

2

We spoke but little together that day on our wayhome from the Park. Mr. Betterton was moody,and I silent. We took our dinner in quietude.There being no Performance at the Theatre thatday, Mr. Betterton settled down to his Desk in theafternoon, telling me that he had some writing to do.

I, too, had some of his Correspondence to attendto, and presently repaired to my room, my Heartstill aching with Sorrow. Did I not guess whatWork was even now engrossing the Attention ofmy Friend? He was deep in the Composition ofthat cruel Lampoon which he meant to speak on theStage to-morrow, in the presence of His Majestyand of a large and brilliant Assembly. Strive as Imight, I could not to myself minimize the probableEffect of the Lampoon upon the Mind of the Public.It is not for me, dear Mistress, to remind You ofthe amazing Popularity of Mr. Betterton—aPopularity which hath never been equalled ere this byany Actor, Artist or Poet in England. Whateverhe spoke from the Stage would be treasured andreiterated and commented upon, until every Citizenof London and Westminster became himself astorehouse of Mud that would be slung at the unfortunateEarl of Stour. And the latter, by refusing tofight Mr. Betterton when the Latter had been theinjured Party, had wilfully cast aside any Weaponof Redress which he might after this have calledto his Aid.

Well! we all know the Effect of scurrilous Quipsspoken from the Stage; even the great Mr. Drydenor the famous Mr. Wycherley have not been aboveinterpolating some in their Plays, for the Confusionof their Enemies; and many a Gentleman's or aLady's Reputation has been made to suffer throughthe Vindictiveness of a noted Actor or Playwright.But, as you know, Mr. Betterton had never hithertolent himself to such Scandal-monging; he stood farabove those petty Quarrels betwixt Gentlemen andPoets that could be settled by wordy Warfare acrossthe Footlights. All the more Weight, therefore,would the Public attach to an Epilogue speciallywritten and spoken by him on so great an occasion.And, alas! the Mud-slinging was to be of a verypeculiar and very clinging Nature.

"Then let the Man you love look to himself!"the outraged Artist had said coldly, whenconfronted for the last time by the Lady Barbara'sDisdain. And in my Mind I had no doubt that, forGood or for Evil, if Tom Betterton set out to do aThing, he would carry it through to its bitter End.

3

When, having finished my work, I went intoMr. Betterton's study, I found him sitting beside hisDesk, though no longer writing. He was leaningback against the cushions of his chair with eyesclosed, his face set and hard. Some loose papers,covered with his neat, careful Caligraphy, lay inan orderly heap upon the Desk.

His Work was evidently finished. Steeped inBitterness and in Vengeance, his Pen had labouredand was now at rest. The Eloquence of theincomparable Actor would now do the rest.

As I entered the Room, the tower clock ofWestminster was just striking seven. The deep bayWindow which gave on a solitary corner ofSt. James's Park, was wide open, and through it therecame from afar, wafted upon the evening breeze, thestrains of a masculine Voice, warm and mellow,singing to the accompaniment of one of thosestringed Instruments which have been imported oflate from Italy.

The Voice rose and fell in pleasing Cadences, andsome of the Words of the Song reached mine Ear.

"You are my Life. You ask me why?

Because my hope is in your love."

 

Whether Mr. Betterton heard them or not, I couldnot say. He sat there so still, his slender Hands—whiteand tapering, the veritable Hands of an Artist—restedlistlessly upon the arms of his chair.

"Through gloomy Clouds to sunlit Skies,

To rest in Faith and your dear Eyes."

 

So sang the sweet Minstrel out there in the fastgathering Gloom. I went up to the window andgazed out into the open Vista before me. Far awayI could see the twinkling lights from the windowsof St. James's Palace, and on my right those ofWhite Hall. The Singer I could not see. Heappeared to be some distance away. But despitethe lateness of the hour, the Park was still alivewith people. And indeed as I leaned my Headfurther out of the Window, I was struck by theanimated spectacle which it presented.

No doubt that the unwonted mildness of thisearly spring evening had induced young Maids andGallants, as well as more sober Folk and Gentlemen,to linger out in the open. The charm of theMinstrel and his Song, too, must have served as anadditional Attraction, for as I watched the Peoplepassing to and fro, I heard snatches of Conversation,mostly in praise of the Singer or of the Weather.

Anon I espied Sir William Davenant walking withMr. Killigrew, and my Lord of Rochester dallyingwith a pretty Damsel; one or two more Gentlemendid I recognize as I gazed on the moving Sight, untilsuddenly I saw that which caused me to draw myHead back quickly from the Window and to gazewith added Anxiety on the listless Figure of my Friend.

What I had seen down below had indeed filledmy Heart with Dread. It was the Figure of myLord Stour. I could have sworn to it, even thoughhis Lordship was wrapped in a mantle from Head toFoot and wore a broad-rimmed Hat, both of whichwould indeed have disguised his Person completelybefore all Eyes save those of Love, of Hate, or ofan abiding Friendship.

What was my Lord Stour doing at this Hour,and in disguise, beneath the Window of his bitterestFoe? My Anxiety was further quickened by theCertainty which I had that neither he nor the LadyBarbara would allow Mr. Betterton's Schemes tomature without another Struggle. Even as I oncemore thrust my Head out of the Window, in orderto catch another glimpse of the moody and solitaryFigure which I had guessed to be Lord Stour,methought that close by the nearest Shrubbery I espiedthe Figure of the Lady Barbara, in closeconversation with her Attendant. Both Women werewrapped in dark Mantles and wore thick veils tocover their Hair.

A dark presentiment of Evil now took possessionof my Soul. I felt like a Watch-dog scentingDanger from afar. The Man whom I loved better thanany other on Earth was in peril of his Life, at thehands of an Enemy driven mad by an impendingDoom—of that I felt suddenly absolutely convinced.And somehow, I felt equally convinced at themoment that we—I, the poor, insignificant Clerk, aswell as my illustrious Friend—were standing on theBrink of an overwhelming Catastrophe.

I had thought to warn him then and there, yetdared not do so in so many words. Men in theprime of Life and the plentitude of their mentalPowers are wont to turn contemptuous and obstinateif told to be on their guard against a lurkingEnemy. And I feared that, in his utter contemptfor his Foe, Mr. Betterton might be tempted to dosomething that was both unconsidered and perilous.

So I contented myself for the nonce with turningto my Friend, seeing that he had wakened from hisreverie and was regarding me with that look ofConfidence and Kindliness which always warmedmy heart when I was conscious of it, I merelyremarked quite casually:

"The Park is still gay with Ladies and Gallants.'Tis strange at this late hour. But a Minstrel isdiscoursing sweet Music somewhere in the distance.Mayhap people have assembled in order to listento him."

And, as if to confirm my Supposition, a merrypeal of laughter came ringing right across the Park,and we heard as it were the hum and murmur ofPedestrians moving about. And through it all theecho of the amorous Ditty still lingering upon theevening air:

"For you are Love—and I am yours!"

 

"Close that window, John," Mr. Betterton said,with an impatient little sigh. "I am in no moodfor sentimental Ballads."

I did as he desired, and whilst in the act of closingthe Window, I said guardedly:

"I caught sight of my Lord Stour just now,pacing the open Ground just beneath this Window. Heappeared moody and solitary, and was wrappedfrom head to foot in a big Mantle, as if he wishedto avoid Recognition."

"I too am moody and solitary, good Honeywood,"was Mr. Betterton's sole comment on myremark. Then he added, with a slight shiver of hiswhole body: "I prithee, see to the Fire. I amperished with the cold."

I went up to the Hearth and kicked the dyingembers into a Blaze; then found some logs andthrew them on the Fire.

"The evening is warm, Sir," I said; "and youcomplained of the Heat awhile ago."

"Yes," he rejoined wearily. "My head is onfire and my Spine feels like ice."

It was quite dark in the Room now, save for theflickering and ruddy firelight. So I went out andbade the Servant give me the candles. I came backwith them myself and set them on the Desk. AsI did so, I glanced at Mr. Betterton. He had oncemore taken up his listless Attitude; his Head wasleaning against the back of his Chair, and I couldnot fail to note how pallid his Face looked and howdrawn, and there was a frown between his Browswhich denoted wearying and absorbing Thoughts.Wishing to distract him from his brooding Melancholy,I thought of reminding him of certain artisticand social Duties which were awaiting his Attention.

"Will you send an Answer, Sir," I asked himwith well-assumed indifference, "to the Chancellor?It is on the Subject of the Benefit Performance inaid of the Indigent Poor of the City of Westminster.His Lordship again sent a messenger thisafternoon."

"Yes!" Mr. Betterton replied readily enough,and sought amongst his Papers for a Letter whichhe had apparently written some time during theDay. "If His Lordship's Messenger calls again,let him have this Note. I must arrange for theBenefit Performance, of course. But I doubt ifmany members of the Company will care to givetheir Services."

"I think that Mr. Robert Noakes would bewilling," I suggested. "Also Mr. Lilleston."

"Perhaps, perhaps!" he broke in listlessly. "Butwe must have Actresses too, and they——"

He shrugged his shoulders, and I rejoined withgreat alacrity:

"Oh! I feel sure that Mistress Saunderson wouldbe ready to join in any benevolent Scheme for thebetterment of the Poor."

"Ah! but she is an Angel!" Mr. Bettertonexclaimed. And, believe me, dear Mistress, that thosewords came as if involuntarily to his Lips, out ofthe Fulness of his Heart. And even when he hadspoken, a Look of infinite Sadness swept over hisFace and he rested his Head against his Hand,shading his Eyes from the light of the Candles, lestI should read the Thoughts that were mirroredtherein.

"There came a messenger, too, this afternoon,"I reminded him, "from Paris, with an autographLetter from His Majesty the King of France."

"Yes!" he replied, and nodded his Head, Ithought, uncomprehendingly.

"Also a letter from the University of Stockholm.They propose that You should visit the Cityin the course of the Summer and——"

"Yes, yes! I know!" he rejoined impatiently."I will attend to it all another time ... But notto-night, good Honeywood," he went on almostappealingly, like a Man wearied with many Tasks."My mind is like a squeezed Orange to-night."

Then he held out his Hand to me—that beautiful,slender Hand of his, which I had so often kissedin the excess of my Gratitude—and added withgentle Indulgence:

"Let me be to-night, good Friend. Leave me tomyself. I am such poor Company and am best alone."

I took his hand. It was burning hot, as if withinward Fever. All my Friendship for him, all myLove, was at once on the alert, dreading theravages of some inward Disease, brought on mayhapby so much Soul-worry.

"I do not relish leaving You alone to-night," Isaid, with more gruffness than I am wont todisplay. "This room is easy of Access from the Park."

He smiled, a trifle sadly.

"Dost think," he asked, with a slight shrug ofthe shoulders, "that a poor Mountebank wouldtempt a midnight Robber?"

"No!" I replied firmly. "But my Lord Stour,wrapped to the eyes in his Mantle, hath prowledbeneath these Windows for an hour." Then, as hemade no comment, I continued with some Fervour:"A determined Man, who hates Another, can easilyclimb up to a first floor Window——"

"Tush, friend!" he broke in sharply. "I amnot afraid of his Lordship ... I am afraid ofnothing to-night, my good Honeywood," he addedsoftly, "except of myself."

4

You certainly will not wonder, dear Mistress,that after that I did not obey his Commands to leavehim to himself. I am nothing of an Eavesdropper,God knows, nor yet would I pry into the Secrets ofthe Soul of the one Man whom I reverence aboveall others. But, even as I turned reluctantly awayfrom him in order to go back to my Room, Iresolved that, unless he actually shut the Door in myFace, I would circumvent him and would remainon the watch, like a faithful Dog who scents Dangerfor his Master. In this I did not feel that I wasdoing any Wrong. God saw in my Heart and knewthat my Purpose was innocent. I thank Him onmy Knees in that He strengthened me in myResolve. But for that Resolve, I should not have beencognizant of all the details of those Events whichculminated in such a dramatic Climax that night,and I would not have been able to speak withAuthority when placing all the Facts before You. Letme tell You at once that I was there, in Mr. Betterton'sRoom, during the whole of the time that theIncident occurred which I am now about to relate.

He had remained sitting at his Desk, and I wentacross the Room in the direction of thecommunicating Door which gave on my own Study. But Idid not go through that Door. I just opened andshut it noisily, and then slipped stealthily behind thetall oaken Dresser, which stands in a dark Angleof the Room. From this point of Vantage I couldwatch closely and ceaselessly, and at the slightestSuspicion of immediate Danger to my Friend Iwould be free to slip out of my Hiding-place and torender him what Assistance he required. I had tosquat there in a cramped Position, and I felt halfsuffocated with the closeness of the Atmospherebehind so heavy a Piece of Furniture; but this Idid not mind. From where I was I could commanda view of Mr. Betterton at his Desk, and of theWindow, which I wished now that I had taken thePrecaution to bar and bolt ere I retired to myCorner behind the Dresser.

For awhile, everything was silent in the Room;only the great Clock ticked loudly in its case, andnow and again the blazing logs gave an intermittentCrackle. I just could see the outline ofMr. Betterton's Shoulder and Arm silhouetted againstthe candle light. He sat forward, his elbow restingupon the Desk, his Head leaning against his Hand,and so still that presently I fell to thinking that hemust have dropped to sleep.

But suddenly he gave that quick, impatient Sighof his, which I had learned to know so well, pushedback his chair, and rose to his Feet. Whereupon,he began pacing up and down the Room, in truthlike some poor, perturbed Spirit that is denied theSolace of Rest.

Then he began to murmur to himself. I knowthat mood of his and believe it to be peculiar to theartistic Temperament, which, when it feels itselfuntrammelled by the Presence of Others, gives ventto its innermost Thoughts in mumbled Words.

From time to time I caught Snatches of what hesaid—wild Words for the most part, which showedthe Perturbation of his Spirit. He, whose Mindwas always well-ordered, whose noble Calling hadtaught him to co-ordinate his Thoughts and tosubdue them to his Will, was now murmuringincoherent Phrases, disjointed Sentences that wouldhave puzzled me had I not known the real Trend ofhis Mood.

"Barbara!..." he said at one time. "Beautiful,exquisite, innocent Lady Babs; the one pureCrystal in that Laboratory of moral Decomposition,the Court of White Hall...." Then he paused,struck his Forehead with his Hand, and added witha certain fierce Contempt: "But she will yield... she is ready now to yield. She will cast aside herPride, and throw herself into the arms of a Manwhom she hates, all for the sake of that youngCoxcomb, who is not worthy to kiss the Sole ofher Shoe!"

Again he paused, flung himself back into hisChair, and once more buried his Face in his Hands.

"Oh, Woman, Woman!" I could hear himmurmuring. "What an Enigma! How can the mereMan attempt to understand thee?"

Then he laughed. Oh! I could not bear the soundof that laugh: there was naught but Bitterness init. And he said slowly muttering between his Teeth:

"The Philosopher alone knows that Women arelike Melons: it is only after having tasted them thatone knows if they are good."

Of course, he said a great deal more during thecourse of that dreary, restless hour, which seemedto me like a Slice out of Eternity. HisRestlessness was intense. Every now and then he wouldjump up and walk up and down, up and down,until his every Footstep had its counterpart in theviolent beatings of my Heart. Then he would flinghimself into a Chair and rest his Head against theCushions, closing his Eyes as if he were in bodilyPain, or else beat his Forehead with his Fists.

Of course he thought himself unobserved, forMr. Betterton is, as You know, a Man of greatmental Reserve. Not even before me—his faithfuland devoted Friend—would he wittingly havedisplayed such overmastering Emotion. To say thatan equally overwhelming Sorrow filled my Heartwould be but to give You, dear Mistress, a feebleStatement of what I really felt. To see a Man ofMr. Betterton's mental and physical Powers soutterly crushed by an insane Passion was indeedheartrending. Had he not everything at his Feetthat any Man could wish for?—Fame, Honours, theRespect and Admiration of all those who matteredin the World. Women adored him, Men vied withone another to render him the sincerest Flattery bystriving to imitate his Gestures, his Mode of Speech,the very Cut of his Clothes. And, above all—aye,I dare assert it, and You, beloved Mistress will, Iknow, forgive me—above all, he had the Love of apure and good Woman, of a talented Artist—yours,dear Lady—an inestimable Boon, for which many aMan would thank his Maker on his Knees.

Ah! he was blind then, had been blind since thatfatal Hour when the Lady Barbara Wychwoodecrossed his Path. I could endorse the wild Wordswhich he had spoken to her this forenoon. Athousand devils were indeed unchained within him; but'tis not to her Kiss that they would yield, but ratherto the gentle Ministration of exquisite MistressSaunderson.

CHAPTER XV

MORE DEAF THAN ADDERS

1

I felt so cramped and numb in my narrow hiding-placethat I verily believe I must have fallen into akind of trance-like Slumber.

From this I was suddenly awakened by the loudClang of our front-door Bell, followed immediatelyby the Footsteps of the Serving Man upon theLanding, and then by a brief Colloquy between himand the belated Visitor.

Seriously, at the moment I had no Conception ofwho this might be, until I glanced at Mr. Betterton.And then I guessed. Guessed, just as he had alreadydone. Every line of his tense and expectantAttitude betrayed the Fact that he had recognized theVoice upon the Landing, and that its sound hadthrilled his very Soul and brought him back fromthe Land of Dreams and Nightmare, where he hadbeen wandering this past hour.

You remember, dear Lady, the last timeMr. Betterton played in a Tragedy called "Hamlett,"wherein there is a Play within a Play, and themelancholy Prince of Denmark sets a troupe ofActors to enact a Representation of the terribleCrime whereof he accuses both his Uncle and hisMother? It is a Scene which, when played byMr. Betterton, is wont to hold the Audience enthralled.He plays his Part in it by lying full length on theGround, his Body propped up by his Elbow and hisChin supported in his Hand. His Eyes—thosewonderful, expressive Eyes of his—he keeps fixed uponthe guilty Pair: his Mother and his Uncle. Hewatches the play of every Emotion upon theirfaces—Fear, Anger, and then the slowly creeping,enveloping Remorse; and his rigid, stern Featuresexpress an Intensity of Alertness and of Expectancy,which is so poignant as to be almost painful.

Just such an Expression did my dear Friend'sFace wear at this Moment. He had pushed hisChair back slightly, so that I had a fuller view ofhim, and the flickering light of the wax Candlesillumined his clear-cut Features and his Eyes, fixedtensely upon the door.

2

The next moment the serving Man threw openthe door and the Lady Barbara walked in. I couldnot see her until she had advanced further into themiddle of the Room. Then I beheld her in all herLoveliness. Nay! I'll not deny it. She was stillincomparably beautiful, with, in addition, thatmarvellous air of Breeding and of Delicacy, whichrendered her peerless amongst her kind. I hatedher for the infinite wrong which she had done to myFriend, but I could not fail to admire her. HerMantle was thrown back from her Shoulders and adark, filmy Veil, resembling a Cloud, enveloped herfair Hair. Beneath her Mantle she wore a Dressof something grey that shimmered like Steel in theCandlelight. A few tendrils of her ardent Hair hadescaped from beneath her Veil, and they made akind of golden Halo around her Face. She wasvery pale, but of that transparent, delicate Pallorthat betokens Emotion rather than ill-health, and herEyes looked to me to be as dark as Sloes, eventhough I knew them to be blue.

For the space of one long Minute, which seemedlike Eternity, these two remained absolutely still,just looking at one another. Methought that I couldhear the very heart-beats within my breast. Thenthe Lady said, with a queer little catch in her Throatand somewhat hesitatingly:

"You are surprised to see me, Sir, no doubt... but ..."

She was obviously at a loss how to begin. AndMr. Betterton, aroused no doubt by her Voice fromhis absorption, rose quickly to his Feet and madeher a deep and respectful Obeisance.

"The Angels from Heaven sometimes descend toEarth," he said slowly; "yet the Earth is moreworthy of their Visit than is the humble Artist ofthe Presence of his Muse." Then he added moreartlessly: "Will You deign to sit?"

He drew a Chair forward for her, but She didnot take it, continued to speak with a strange,obviously forced Gaiety and in a halting Manner.

"I thank you, Sir," she said. "That is... no ... not yet ... I like to look about me."

She went close up to the Desk and began to fingeridly the Books and Papers which lay scatteredpell-mell upon it, he still gazing on her as if he hadnot yet realized the Actuality of her Presence.Anon she looked inquiringly about her.

"What a charming room!" she said, with a littlecry of wonder. "So new to me! I have never seenan Artist's room before."

"For weeks and months," Mr. Betterton rejoinedsimply, "this one has been a temple, hallowed bythoughts of You. Your Presence now, has henceforthmade it a Sanctuary."

She turned full, inquiring Eyes upon him andriposted with childlike Ingenuousness:

"Yet must You wonder, Sir, at my Presencehere ... alone ... and at this hour."

"In my heart," he replied, "there is such anInfinity of Happiness that there is no Room forWonder."

"An Infinity of Happiness?" she said with aquaint little sigh. "That is what we are allstriving for, is it not? The Scriptures tell us that thisEarth is a Vale of Tears. No wonder!" she addednaïvely, "since we are so apt to allow Happiness topass us by."

Oh! how I wished I had the Courage then andthere to reveal myself to these Twain, to rush out ofmy Hiding-place and seize that wily Temptress who,I felt sure, was here only for the undoing of a Manwhom she hated with unexampled Bitterness. Oh,why hath grudging Nature made me weak andcowardly and diffident, when my whole Soul yearns attimes to be resourceful and bold? Believe me, dearMistress, that my Mind and my Will-power wereabsolutely torn between two Impulses—the oneprompting me to put a stop to this dangerous andpurposeless Interview, this obvious Trap set to catcha great and unsuspecting Artist unawares; and theother urging me not to interfere, but rather to allowDestiny, Fate or the Will of God alone to straightenout the Web of my Friend's Life, which had beenembroiled by such Passions as were foreign to hisnoble Nature.

And now I am thankful that I allowed this latterCounsel to prevail. The Will of God did indeedshape the Destinies of Men this night for theirBetterment and ultimate Happiness. But, for themoment, the Threads of many a Life did appear tobe most hopelessly tangled: the Lady BarbaraWychwoode, daughter of the Marquis of Sidbury,the fiancée of the Earl of Stour, was in the house ofTom Betterton, His Majesty's Well-Beloved Servant,and he was passionately enamoured of her andhad vowed Vengeance against the Man she loved.As he gazed on her now there was no Hatred inhis Glance, no evil Passion disturbed the Look ofAdoration wherewith he regarded her.

"Barbara," he pleaded humbly, "be merciful tome.... For pity's sake, do not mock me withyour smile! My dear, do you not see that I scarcecan believe that I live ... and that you are here?... You! ... You!" he went on, withpassionate Earnestness. "My Divinity, whom I onlydare approach on bended Knees, whose Garment Iscarce dare touch with my trembling Lips!"

He bent the Knee and raised the long, floatingEnd of her cloudlike Veil to his Lips. I could havesworn at that Moment that she recoiled from himand that she made a Gesture to snatch away theVeil, as if his very Touch on it had been Pollution.That Gesture and the Recoil were, however, quitemomentary. The next second, even whilst he roseonce more to his Feet, she had already recoveredherself.

"Hush!" she said gently, and drew herselfartlessly away from his Nearness. "I want to listen....People say that Angels wait upon Mr. Bettertonwhen he studies his Part ... and I want tohear the flutter of their Wings."

"The Air vibrates with the Echo of your sweetName," he rejoined, and his exquisite Voice soundedmellow and vibrant as a sensitive Instrumenttouched by a Master's Hand. "Your name, whichwith mad longing I have breathed morning, noonand eve. And now ... now ... I am notdreaming ... You are near me! ... You, theperfect Lady Barbara ... my Lady Babs....And you look—almost happy!"

She gave him a Look—the true Look of a Sirenset to enchain the Will of Man.

"Happy?" she queried demurely. "Nay, Sir... puzzled, perhaps."

"Puzzled?" he echoed. "Why?"

"Wondering," she replied, "what magic is in theair that could make a Woman's Heart ... forsakeone Love ... for ... for Another."

Yes! She said this, and looked on him straightbetween the Eyes as she spoke. Yet I knew that shelied, could have screamed the Accusation at her, soconvinced was I that she was playing some subtleand treacherous Game, designed to entrap him andto deliver him helpless and broken into her Power.But he, alas! was blinded by his Passion. He sawno Siren in her, no Falsehood in her Smile. At herWords, I saw a great Light of Happiness illuminehis Face.

"Barbara!" he pleaded. "Have pity on me, formy Reason wanders. I dare not call it back, lest thismagic hour should prove to be a Dream."

He tried to take her in his Arms, but she evadedhim, ran to the other side of the Desk, laughingmerrily like a Child. Once again her delicateFingers started to toy with the Papers scatteredthere.

"Oh, ho!" she exclaimed, with well-feignedastonishment. "Your desk! Why, this," she said,placing her Hand upon the neat pile before her,"must be that very Thunderbolt wherewithto-morrow you mean to crush an arrogant Enemy!"

"Barbara!" he rejoined with ever growing passion,and strove to take her Hand. "Will you notlet me tell You——"

"Yes, yes!" she replied archly, and quietlywithdrew her Hand from his grasp. "You shall speakto me anon some of those Speeches of our greatPoets, which your Genius hath helped toimmortalize. To hear Mr. Betterton recite will be aninestimable Privilege ... which your manyAdmirers, Sir, will envy me."

"The whole world would envy me to-night," heretorted, and gazed on her with such Ardour thatshe was forced to lower her Eyes and to hide theirExpression behind the delicate Curtain of her Lashes.

I, who was the dumb Spectator of this cruelGame, saw that the Lady Barbara was feeling herway towards her Goal. There was so much Excitementin her, such palpitating Vitality, that her veryHeart-beats seemed to find their Echo in my breast.Of course, I did not know yet what Game it wasthat she was playing. All that I knew was that itwas both deadly and treacherous. Even now, whenMr. Betterton once more tried to approach her andshe as instinctively as before recoiled before him, shecontrived to put strange softness into her Voice, anda subtle, insidious Promise which helped to confusehis Brain.

"No—no!" she said. "Not just yet ... Ipray you have pity on my Blushes. I—I still amaffianced to my Lord Stour ... although..."

"You are right, my beloved," he rejoined simply."I will be patient, even though I am standing on theThreshold of Paradise. But will You not bemerciful? I cannot see you well. Will you not take offthat Veil? ... It casts a dark shadow over your Brow."

This time she allowed him to come near her, and,quite slowly, she unwound the Veil from round herHead. He took it from her as if it were somehallowed Relic, too sacred to be polluted by earthlyTouch. And, as her back was turned towards him,he crushed the Gossamer between his Hands andpressed its Fragrance to his Lips.

"There!" she said coolly. "'Tis done. Yourmagic, Sir Actor, has conquered again."

It seemed to me that she was more self-possessednow than she had been when first she entered theRoom. Indeed, her Serenity appeared to grow as hiswaned perceptibly. She still was a little restless,wandering aimlessly about the Room, fingering theBooks, the Papers, the Works of Art that layeverywhere about; but it seemed like the restlessness ofCuriosity rather than of Excitement. In her ownMind she felt that she held the Winning Hand—ofthis I was convinced—and that she could afford totoy with and to befool the Man who had dared tomeasure his Power against hers.

After awhile, she sat down in her Chair which hehad brought forward for her, and which stood closeto the Desk.

"And now, Sir," she said with cool composure,"'tis You who must humour me. I have a fancy... now, at this moment ... and my Desireis to be thoroughly spoiled."

"Every Whim of yours," he rejoined, "is aCommand to your humble Slave."

"Truly?" she queried.

"Truly."

"Then will You let me see you ... sitting atyour Desk ... Pen in hand ... writingsomething just for me?"

"All my work of late," he replied, "has been donebecause of You ... but I am no Poet. What Ispeak may have some Merit. What I write hath none."

"Oh!" she protested with well-simulatedCoquetry, "what I desire You to write for me, SirActor, will have boundless Merit. It is just a coupleof Lines designed to ... to ... prove yourLove for me—Oh!" she added quickly, "I scarcedare believe in it, Sir ... I scare understood... You remember, this morning in the Park, Iwas so excited, yet you asked me—to be—your Wife!"

"My Wife!" he cried, his Voice ringing withtriumphant Passion. "And you would consent?——"

"And so I came," she riposted, evading a directAnswer, "to see if I had been dreaming ... if,indeed, the great and illustrious Mr. Betterton hadstooped to love a Woman ... and for the sakeof that Love would do a little Thing for Her."

Lies! Lies! I knew that every Word which shespoke was nothing but a Lie. My God! if only Icould have unriddled her Purpose! If only I couldhave guessed what went on behind those marvellousEyes of hers, deep and unfathomable as the Sea!All I knew—and this I did in the very Innermost ofmy Soul—was that the Lady Barbara Wychwoodehad come here to-night in order to trick Mr. Betterton,and to turn his Love for her to Advantage formy Lord Stour. How carefully she had thought outthe Part which she meant to play; how completelyshe meant to have him at her Mercy, only in orderto mock and deride him in the End, I had yet to learn.

Even now she completed his Undoing, theAddling of his noble Mind, by casting Looks ofshy Coquetry upon him. What Man is there whocould have resisted them? What Man, who washimself so deeply infatuated as was Mr. Betterton,could believe that there was Trickery in thoseGlances? He sat down at his Desk, as she haddesired him to do, and drew Pen, Ink and Papercloser to his Hand.

"An you asked my Life," he said simply, "Iwould gladly give it to prove my Love for You." Then,as she remained silent and meditative, headded: "What is your Ladyship's wish?"

"Oh!" she replied, "'tis a small matter... It concerns the Earl of Stour ... We wereFriends ... once ... Playmates when we wereChildren ... That Friendship ripened intoa—a—Semblance of Love. No! No!" she went onrapidly, seeing that at her Words he had made aswift Movement, leaning towards her. "I pray you,listen. That Semblance of Love may have gone... but Friendship still abides. My Lord Stour,the Playmate of my Childhood, is in sore trouble... I, his Friend, would wish to help him, andcannot do this without your Aid. Will You—willYou grant me this Aid, Sir," she queried shyly, "ifI beg it of You?"

"Your Ladyship has but to command," heanswered vaguely, for, in truth, his whole Mindwas absorbed in the contemplation of her Loveliness.

"'Twas You," she asserted boldly, "who beggedfor his Lordship's pardon from the Countess ofCastlemaine ... 'Twas not he who betrayed hisFriends. That is a Fact, is it not?"

"A Fact. Yes," he replied.

"Then I pray you, Sir, write that down," shepleaded, with an ingenuous, childish Gesture, "andsign it with your Name ... just to please me."

She looked like a lovely Child begging for a Toy.To think of Guile in connection with those Eyes,with that Smile, seemed almost a Sacrilege. Andmy poor Friend was so desperately infatuated justthen! Has any Man ever realized that Woman isfooling him, when she really sets her Wiles toentrap him? Surely not a Man of Mr. Betterton'skeen, artistic and hot-blooded Temperament. I sawit all now, yet I dared not move. For one thing,the time had gone by when I might have done it withgood Effect. Now it was too late. Any interferenceon my part would only have led to Ignominyfor myself and the severance of a Friendship thatI valued more than Life itself. Betwixt a Friend'swarning and a Woman's Cajolery, what Man wouldhesitate? What could I, in any event, have donenow, save to hold up the inevitable Catastrophe fora few Moments—a few Seconds, perhaps? Truly,my hour was past. I could but wait now in Silenceand Misery until the End.

There she sat, pleading, speaking that eternalPhrase, which since the beginning of primeval timeshath been used by wily Woman for the undoing of agenerous-minded Man.

"Will You do this, Sir—just to please me?"

"I swear to You that it shall be done," herejoined with passionate fervour. "But will you notlet me tell you first——"

"No!—No!" she said quickly, clasping herdelicate hands. "I pray You—not just yet. I—I solong to see You write ... there ... at thisDesk, where lie piled letters from every illustriousPerson and every crowned Head in Europe. Andnow You will write," she entreated, in the tone of anindulged and wayward Child. "You will? Justone little Document for me, because ... becauseYou say You love me, and ... because ... I..."

"Barbara!" he cried in an Ecstasy of Happiness."My Beloved!"

He was on the point of falling on his Knees, butonce more a demure Gesture, a drawing back of herwhole Figure, restrained him.

"No! No!" she reiterated firmly. "When youhave written, I will listen——"—another Glance,and he was vanquished. Then she completed herPhrase—"to all you have to say."

He drew back with a sigh, and took up his Pen.

"As you command," he said simply, and madeready to write.

3

Even now, whene'er I close mine Eyes, I can seethose twain as a vivid Picture before me. TheMassive Desk, littered with papers, the Candlesflickering in their Sconces, illumining with theirelusive Light the Figure of the great Actor, sittingwith shoulders slightly bent forward, one Armresting upon the Desk, half buried in the filmy folds ofher Ladyship's Veil, his Face upturned towards theEnchantress, who held him at this Hour an absoluteSlave to her Will. She had risen from her Chairand stood immediately behind him; her Face I couldnot see, for her back was towards me, but the lightcaught the loose Tendrils of her fair Hair, and fromwhere I stood watching, this looked just like agolden Aureole around her small Head, bent slightlytowards him. She too was leaning forward, overhim, with her Hand extended, giving him Directionsas to what he should write.

"Oh, I pray You," she said with an impatientlittle Sigh, "do not delay! I will watch You as Youwrite. I pray You write it as a Message addressedto the Court of White Hall. Not in Poetry," sheadded, with a nervous little Laugh; "but in Prose,so that all may understand."

He bent to his task and began to write, and shestraightened out her elegant Figure and murmured,as if oppressed: "How hot this room is!"

Slowly, as if in Absence of Mind, She wanderedtowards the Window.

"I have heard it said," she remarked, "thatMr. Betterton's worst enemy is the cold. But afire! ... on such a glorious Evening. The first Kissof awakening Spring."

She had reached the Window now, and stood forawhile in the Bay, leaning against the Mullion; andI could not help but admire her Duplicity and herPluck. For, indeed, She had risked Everything thatWoman holds most dear, for the sake of the Manshe loved. And She could not help but know thatShe herself and her fair Name would anon be atthe mercy of a Man whom her Cajoleries and herTrickery would have rendered desperate.

Anon, as if quite overcome by the Heat, she threwopen the Casement, and then leaned out, peering intothe Darkness beyond. Ensconced in my Corner atsome distance from the Window, I was consciousof the Movement and subdued Noise which came upfrom the still crowded Park. A number of Peopleappeared to be moving out there, and even as Istrained my Ears to listen, I caught the sweet soundof the selfsame Song of awhile ago, wafted hitheron the cool night Air:

"You are my Life! You ask me why?

Because my Hope is in Your Love."

 

I caught myself marvelling if the Ladies andGallants of the Court had strolled out into the Parkat this hour, drawn thither by the amorous Melodiessung by the unknown Minstrel; or by the balmy Airof Spring; or merely by the passing Whim of somenew Fashion or Fancy. I even strained my Earsso that I might recognise the sound of Voices thatwere familiar to me. I heard my Lord ofRochester's characteristic Laugh, Sir WilliamDavenant's dictatorial tones and the high-pitchedCackle of Mr. Killigrew.

So doth our Mind oft dwell on trivial Thoughtsat times of gravest Stress. Her Ladyship had satdown on a low Stool beside the Window. I couldonly see the vague outline of her—the Expressionof her Face, the very Poise of her Head, were wraptin the surrounding Gloom.

For awhile there was perfect Silence in the Room,save for the monotonous ticking of the old Clockand the scratching of Mr. Betterton's Pen as hewrote with a rapid and unhesitating Hand.

The Minutes sped on, and anon he had completedhis Task. I saw him lay down his Pen, then raisethe Paper and read through very carefully all thathe had written, and finally strew Sand upon themomentous Document. For awhile after that heremained perfectly still, and I observed his clear-cutFace, with Eyes fixed as it were inwards into hisown Soul, and sensitive Lips pressed tightly oneagainst the other. The Hand which held theDocument was perfectly steady, an obedient slave to hisWill. And yet that Sign-manual, as directed by herLadyship, was a direct Avowal of a dastardly Deed,of the gratuitous Slandering of an innocent Man'sHonour, without Provocation or Justification, seeingthat no mention was made in the Confession of theabominable Outrage which had brought about thisgrim Retaliation, or of the Refusal on the part ofhis Lordship to grant the Satisfaction that iscustomary between Gentlemen. It was, in fact, his ownIntegrity and his own Honour that the eminentActor was even now bartering for a Woman's Love.This will prove to You, dear Mistress, thatMr. Betterton's Love for the Lady Barbara Wychwoodedid not at any time resemble true Affection, which,of all the Passions to which the human Heart is aptto become Slave, is the one that leads the Mind tothe highest and noblest Thoughts; whereas anInfatuation can only be compared to a Fever. Manhath no more control over the one than he hath overthe other, and cannot curb its Violence or theDuration of its Attack.

4

The next thing that I remember most clearly isseeing Mr. Betterton put the fateful Paper downagain, take up her Ladyship's Veil and bury his Facein its cloudy Folds. I heard him murmur faintly,after awhile:

"Now, if I dared, I would believe myself almost happy!"

Then he rose, picked up the Paper, and with itwent up to the Lady Barbara.

"'Tis done, as you did command," he said quitequietly, and placed the Document in her Hand. Shetook it from him and rose to her Feet.

"A Light, I pray You," she said coldly.

He brought one of the Candles across and stoodbeside her, holding it aloft. She read the Paperthrough with great Deliberation, nodding Approvalfrom time to time as she did so. Then she foldedit into a very small Compass, while she thanked himcoldly and guardedly. He then went back to theDesk with the Candle and put it down. Duringthese few Seconds, whilst his back was turned toher, I noticed that the Lady Barbara took a heavy,jewelled Brooch from her Gown and fastened it byits pin to the Document. Her movements weremethodical but very quick, and my own Mindworked too slowly to guess at her Intention.

The next moment, Mr. Betterton was once moreby her side. Eager, alert, and with the glow ofTriumph in his Eyes, he flung himself at her Feet.She was his now!—his by Right of Conquest! Hehad won her by measureless Self-Sacrifice, and nowhe meant to hold the Guerdon for which he had paidso heavy a Price.

"Because you deigned to cross this humbleThreshold," he said, and his arms encircled herWaist with the masterful and passionate Gestureof a Victor, "the poor Actor places his Name andFame, his Pride and baffled Revenge, at your feet."

"At the World's Feet, Sir Mountebank!" shecried exultantly, and with a swift movement sheflung the weighted Paper far out through theWindow. Then, leaning out into the Darkness, shecalled at the top of her Voice: "To me, Adela!Here is the Message from Mr. Betterton. Take itto my Lord Sidbury at once!"

But Mr. Betterton was no longer in a mental Stateto care what happened after this; I doubt if herealized just what was impending. He was still onhis Knees, holding on to her with both Arms.

"Nay!" he said wildly. "That is as You please.Let the whole World think me base and abject.What care I for Honour, Fame or Integrity nowthat You are here, and that You will be my Wife?"

Ah! the poor, deluded Fool! How could he beso blind? Already the Lady Barbara had turnedon him with flashing Eyes, and a loud, hystericalLaugh of measureless Contempt broke from her Lips.

"Your Wife!" she exclaimed, and that harshlaugh echoed through the Silence of the House."So, Mr. Actor, you thought to entrap the Daughterof the Marquis of Sidbury into becoming yourWife! ... Nay! you miserable Fool! 'Twas Ientrapped and cheated you.... Your Wife!Ye Saints in Heaven, hear him! His Wife! TheWife of Thomas Betterton, the Mountebank!! I!!!"

Her Words, her Laughter, the Bitterness of herContempt, stung him like a Whip-lash. In aninstant, he was on his Feet, staggered back till hecame in contact with the Desk, to which he clungwith both hands, while he faced her, his Cheekspale as Ashes, his Eyes glowing with a Light thatappeared almost maniacal.

"You cheated me?" he murmured inarticulately."You lied to me? ... You ... I'll notbelieve it ... I'll not believe it...."

She appeared not to heed him, was gazing out ofthe Window, shouting directions to some one—herwaiting-maid, no doubt, or other Confidante—whowas searching for the Paper down below.

"There, Adela!" she called out eagerly. "Dostsee ... just by those bushes ... somethingwhite ... my brooch.... Dost see?"

Suddenly she gave a Cry of Triumph, and thenturned back exultantly to her baffled Foe.

"My maid," she said, somewhat wildly, andpanting as if she were exhausted with fast running."We had planned it all ... She is devoted to me... She has been on the Watch ... She hasthe paper now ... There!" she added, and withoutstretched arm pointed out into the Gloombeyond. "There; Do you see?"

Can You wonder that her Trickery, her Contempthad made him mad? Indeed, even I felt that at thatmoment I could have held her slender throat betweenmy two Hands and crushed the Life out of her. Toa Man of Mr. Betterton's temperament, theProvocation was obviously beyond his Powers ofEndurance. Even in the dim Light, I could see a positiveFury of Passion akin to Hate literally distorting hisFace. The next second he was once more by herside, and whilst she still cried wildly: "Do you see?Do you see? Run, Adela, run!" he seized her inhis arms and retorted roughly:

"I see nothing now but your Beauty, and thathas made me mad."

"Run, Adela! Run!" she cried again. "Thatmessage from Mr. Betterton is for the whole Worldto see!"

But he held her tightly round the Shoulders now,and she, probably realizing her Danger for the firsttime, strove to struggle against his Embrace.

"Let me go!" she commanded. "Let me go! orI swear by God in Heaven that I will find theStrength to kill myself and You."

"I love You," was his only reply to her Threat."Nay!" he added, speaking in rapid, jerky Phrases,the while she continued to struggle with evergrowing loss of Power. "You shall kill me later if Youwill, but not till I have lived. My Dear, my Love,my Saint! Have I not worshipped you for days andmonths? Have I not held You in Dream in myArms? You are my Muse, my Divinity, my Hope!Mine! Mine! Exquisite, adorable Lady Barbara!No! No! You cannot escape, struggle how Youmight. This is my hour! 'Tis you who gave it me,and I defy Heaven itself to rob me of a single instant!"

My God! what could I do? More and more didI curse the Folly and Cowardice which had kept meriveted to this Spot all this while. Now there wasnothing for it but to reveal my Presence, to drawupon my foolish Head the Contempt and Anger of aMan for whom I would gladly have laid down myLife. My Brain became confused. I ceased to seeclearly. A ruddy Mist was gathering before myEyes. I was on the Verge of losing Consciousnessand was struggling pitifully to retain Command overmy Senses. Through this fast approaching SwoonI could hear, as through an intervening Veil, thehoarse and broken Accents of the Voice that I lovedso well:

"You are here alone with me. The last shredof my Reason is scattered to the Winds. England,Fame, the World, are empty Words to me. Do younot see that now I am ready to die an hundredDeaths, for at last I shall have lived ... I shallhave held You in my Arms."

And one great and pitiful Appeal from her Lips:"Oh, God! If there is Justice in Heaven—defendme now——"

And, even half conscious as I was, I saw her—yes,saw her quite distinctly give a sudden wrenchwhich freed her right Arm. She plunged her Handinto the bosom of her Gown, and the next instantthe flickering light of the Candle flashed a vividgleam upon the narrow steel blade of a daggerwhich she held. This, with the swiftness oflightning, brought me back to the Consciousness of thepresent, grim Reality. With a loud and sudden Cry,I darted out of my Hiding Place and stood therebefore them both, pale no doubt with a well-nighunearthly Pallor, which must have given me theAppearance of a Ghost.

It was now the Lady Barbara who was nigh toSwooning. But, with that coolness which comes attimes to the Helpless and the Weak, I had alreadysnatched her Veil from the Desk, and whilst shetottered and almost fell into my Arms, I wrappedit around her Head.

"Quick! The Door!" I said. "You are quite safe!"

I dared not look at Mr. Betterton. Indeed, Icould not even now tell You in what Attitude orwith what Expression of Face he watched me whilstI seemed thus to take Command of the Situation.The Lady Barbara was trembling so violently thatsome few moments elapsed before she was able towalk across the Room. When she finally did so,her Foot kicked against the Dagger which haddropped from her Hand when I so suddenlyappeared before her. She gave a faint Cry of Horror,and I stooped and picked up the Dagger and placedit back in her Hand without looking at her.

5

Her Ladyship then went on towards the door.But suddenly she came to a halt, and I, who wasclose to her heels, paused likewise, for I felt thatevery drop of Blood within me had turned to Ice.From the Hall below there had come the sound ofangry Altercation and a Man's voice was raisedloudly and peremptorily, saying:

"Let me pass, man! I will speak with Mr. Betterton."

The voice was that of my Lord Stour.

The Lady Barbara stood quite still for a moment,rigid as a carved Statue. Then a low, inexpressiblypathetic Moan rose to her Lips.

"Oh! for the Earth to open!" she cried pitiably,"and bury me and this Shame——"

She was overwrought and weak with Emotion,but in any Event it was a terrible Position for anyLady of Rank to be found in, at this late hour, andalone. Overcome no doubt with the superabundanceof harrowing Sensations, she tottered as ifabout to swoon. Mr. Betterton caught her as she fell.

"My Divinity! My Queen!" he murmuredquickly. "No one shall harm you, I swear it! Noone shall!" Then he added under his breath:"Heaven above me, help me to protect her!"

Whereupon he lifted her up in his Arms as ifshe were a Child, and carried her as far as theEmbrasure of the Window. Then, with one ofthose quick movements which were so characteristicof him, he drew the Curtains together, which shutoff the Bay from the rest of the Room and screenedits fair Occupant completely from view.

He was a different Man now to the Passion-rackedCreature of awhile ago; absolutely calm; theMan I had known and loved and respected all theseyears. Though my whole Being was still convulsedin an Agony of Apprehension, I felt that from himnow would come moral Comfort for me andProtection for the unfortunate Lady, whose Burden ofSorrow had at last touched his Heart. And I doverily believe, dear Lady, that in that Instant ofsupreme Danger for us all, his Passion fell from himlike a Curtain from before his Eyes. It had gonethrough its culminating Anguish when he discoveredthat she whom he loved had lied to him and cheatedhim. Now, when she stood here before him, utterlyhelpless and utterly crushed, his Infatuationappeared to writhe for one Moment in the Crucible ofhis own Manliness and Chivalry, and then to emergetherefrom hallowed and purified.

6

In the meanwhile, less than a minute had elapsed.My Lord Stour had ascended the Stairs, undeterredby the Protestations of Mr. Betterton's Servant.The next moment he had violently wrenched theDoor open and now stood before us, pale, tremblingwith Rage or Excitement, hatless, his Mantlethrown back from his Shoulders. His right Handclutched his naked Sword, and in his Left he hada crushed ball of paper, held together by herLadyship's brooch. His entire Attitude was one of firmand deadly Menace.

"I heard a Voice!" he exclaimed, staring wildlyaround him. "I saw a Face—a Form.... ThisPaper was flung out from yonder Window... was picked up by a serving Wench.... Whatdoes it mean?" he queried harshly, and advancedthreateningly towards Mr. Betterton, who wasstanding midway between him and the curtained Bay.

"How can I tell?" riposted the great Actorblandly, with a careless Shrug of his Shoulders. "Iwas not moon-gazing, as your Lordship appears tohave done. A paper, did You say?"

"You are not alone," retorted my Lord roughly."I heard a voice ... just now...."

"We are all apt to hear voices in the moonlight,my Lord," Mr. Betterton rejoined simply. "TheArtist hears his Muse, the Lover his Mistress, theCriminal his Conscience."

His unruffled calm seemed to exasperate hisLordship's fury, for he now appeared even moremenacing than before.

"And did You perchance hear a Voice to-night,Sir Actor," he queried, his voice hoarse withPassion, "warning You of Death?"

"Nay!" replied Mr. Betterton. "That Voicewhispers to Us all, and always, my Lord, even inour Cradles."

"Then hear it for the last time now, and from myLips, you abominable Mountebank!" my Lord cried,beside himself in truth. "For unless You drawaside that Curtain, I am going to kill You."

"That is as you please," retorted Mr. Bettertonsimply.

"Stand aside!" commanded his Lordship.

But Mr. Betterton looked him calmly up anddown and did not move one inch.

"This is a most unwarrantable Interference," hesaid quietly, "with the Freedom of His Majesty'swell-beloved Servant. Your Lordship seems toforget that every inch of this Floor is mine, and that Istand on it where I please. I pray you, take thatPaper—that Message—elsewhere. An it camedown from Heaven, read it—but leave me in Peace."

"I'll not go," asserted my Lord harshly, "tillyou have drawn aside that Curtain."

"Then we'll see whose Legs will weary first, myLord, yours or mine," was Mr. Betterton's unruffledrejoinder.

"Draw then and defend yourself!" cried myLord, who before his Enemy's unbroken Calm, hadlost what Semblance of Self-Control he still possessed.

"I am unarmed," riposted Mr. Betterton simply.

"Then let Satan have his due," exclaimed theyoung Hothead, and raised his Sword ready tostrike, "for your Soul shall go down to Hell at last!"

In a moment, of course, I was on him. But hehad the vigour of a trained Soldier, enhanced by anoverwhelming Passion of Enmity and of Rage; andthough I seized him unawares—I doubt if he hadrealized that I was in the Room—he shook me offin an instant, as a Dog might shake off animportunate Rat. Before I had time to recover my breathfrom his quick and furious Defence, he had turnedon me and dealt me such a vigorous Blow with hisFist between the Eyes, that the whole Room beganto gyrate around me and the Atmosphere becamepeopled with Stars. I staggered and half fellagainst the Dresser that had sheltered me awhileago. For the space of half a dozen seconds mineEyes were closed.

7

When I opened them again, the Scene had indeedchanged. Her Ladyship had pushed the Curtainsaside and stood there in the window Embrasure,revealed to her irate Lover. And he, though hemust have known that she was there all the Time,appeared so staggered by her Apparition that hisArm dropped by his side and his Sword fell with aclatter to the Ground, while he murmured as if inthe last Throes of mental Suffering:

"Barbara ... my Barbara .. here—alone—atnight ... with this Man!..."

Her Ladyship, however, appeared perfectlycomposed. The light of the Candles revealed herexquisite Face, pale but serene, and her small Headcrowned with the Aureole of her golden Hair, heldup proudly as one who hath naught to fear, naughtfor which she need be ashamed. She pointed withperfect steadiness to the Paper which my Lord stillheld tightly clasped in his left Hand.

"That paper!" she said, and only a slight veilingof her Voice betrayed the Emotion which she felt."I sent it. 'Tis for you, my Lord. It will clearyour Honour, and proclaim your Innocence."

But his Lordship did not appear to hear her. Hecontinued to murmur to himself mechanically, andin tones of the deepest Despair:

"Barbara ... alone ... with him!"

"Read that Paper, my dear Lord," her Ladyshipinsisted with calm dignity, "ere with anotherThought you further dare to wrong me!"

These simple Words, however, so full ofconscious Worth and of Innocence, let loose theFloodgates of my Lord's pent-up, insensate jealousy.

"Wrong you!" he cried, and a harsh, almostmaniacal laugh broke from his choking Throat."Wrong you! Nay! I suppose I must be gratefuland thank Heaven on my Knees that You, mypromised Bride, deigned to purchase mine Honourat the Price of your Kisses!"

At this gross Insult her Ladyship uttered a pitifulMoan; but ere she could give Reply, Mr. Betterton,who hitherto had not interfered between the Twain,now did so, and in no measured Tone.

"Silence, Madman!" he commanded, "ere Youblaspheme."

But my Lord had apparently lost his last Shredof Reason. Jealousy was torturing him in amanner that even Hatred had failed to do.

"God!" he exclaimed repeatedly, calling to theAlmighty to witness his Soul-Misery. "I saw herat that Window.... Who else saw her?...How many Varlets and jabbering Coxcombs knowat the present moment that the Lady BarbaraWychwoode spends the night alone with a Mountebank?" Inan excess of ungoverned Rage he tore the Paperto shreds and threw the Scraps almost into herLadyship's Face. "Take back your Proofs!" hecried. "I'll not take mine Honour from Yourhands! Ah!" he added, and now turned once moretoward Mr. Betterton, who, I could see, was calmlymaking up his Mind what next to do. "Whoeveryou are—Man or Devil—are you satisfied with yourRevenge? Was it not enough to coverme withInfamy; what need had You to brandHer withDishonour?"

Overcome with Emotion, his Soul on the Rack,his Heart wounded and bleeding, he appeared like alost Spirit crying out from an Abyss of Torment.But these last Ravings of his, these final, abominableInsults, levelled against the Woman who had doneso much for him, and whom he should have been thefirst to protect, lashed Mr. Betterton's ire andcontempt into holy Fury.

"Ye gods in Heaven, hear him!" he cried, withan outburst of Rage at least as great as that of theother Man. "He loves her, and talks of Dishonour,whilst I love her and only breathe of Worship!By all the Devils in Hell, my Lord Stour, I tell youthat you lie!"

And before any of us there realized what hemeant to do, he ran to the Window, threw open allthe Casements with such violence that the glassbroke and fell clattering down upon the gravelledplace below.

"Hallo!" he called in a stentorian Voice."Hallo, there!"

My Lord Stour, bewildered, un-understanding,tried to bluster.

"What are you doing, man?" he queriedroughly. "Silence! Silence, I say!"

But Mr. Betterton only shouted the louder.

"Hallo, there! Friends! Enemies! England! Here!"

I could hear the Tumult outside. People wererunning hither from several directions, thinking, nodoubt, that a Fire had broken out or that Murderwas being done. I could hear them assemblingbeneath the window, which was not many feet fromthe Ground. "Why! it's Tom Betterton!" some ofthem said. And others added: "Hath he goneraving mad?"

"Is any one there who knows me?" queriedMr. Betterton loudly.

"Yes! Yes!" was the ready response.

"Who is it?" he asked, peering into the darknessbelow.

I heard Sir William Davenant's voice give reply.

"Killigrew and I are down here, Tom. What inthe Name of —— is the matter?"

"Come round to my rooms, Davenant," Mr. Bettertonreplied; "and bring as many friends with youas you can."

He was standing in the Bay of the Window, andhis Figure, silhouetted against the Light in theRoom, must have been plainly visible to the crowdoutside. That a number of People had assembled bynow was apparent by the Hum and Hubbub whichcame to us from below. Unable to restrain myCuriosity, I too approached the open Casements andpeered out into the Gloom. Just as I thought, quitea Crowd had collected down there, some of whomwere making ready to climb up to the Window byway of the Gutter-pipes or the solid stems of theIvy, whilst others were trooping down the narrowlittle Alley which connects Tothill Street with thePark at the base of Mr. Betterton's house. Therewas a deal of talking, laughing and shouting."Tom Betterton is up to some Prank," I heardmore than one Person say.

8

Perhaps You will wonder what was my Lord'sAttitude during the few minutes—it was less thanfive—which elapsed between the Instant whenMr. Betterton first threw open the Casements, and thatwhen the Crowd, headed by Sir William Davenantand Mr. Killigrew, trooped down the Alley on theirWay to this House. To me he seemed at firstwholly uncomprehending, like a Man who hasreceived a Blow on the Head—just as I did from hisFist a moment ago—and before whose Eyes theWalls of the Room, the Furniture, the People, areall swimming in an Ocean of Stars. I imagine thatat one time the Thought flashed as Lightningthrough his Mind that this was but the culminatingOutrage, wherewith his Enemy meant to pillory himand his Bride before a jeering Public. That wasthe moment when he turned to her Ladyship and,uttering a hoarse Cry, called to her by Name. Shewas, just then, leaning in semi-consciousness againstthe Angle of the Bay. She did not respond to hisCall, and Mr. Betterton, quick in his Movements,alert now like some Feline on the prowl, steppedimmediately in front of Her, facing my Lord andscreening Her against his Approach.

"Stand back, Man," he commanded. "Standback, I tell You! You shall not come nigh Hersave on bended Knees, with Head bowed in theDust, suing for Pardon in that you dared to Insulther."

Everything occurred so quickly, Movements,Events, High Words, threatening Gestures fromboth sides, followed one another in such rapidSuccession, that I, overcome with Agitation and theEffect of the stunning Blow which I had received,was hardly able to take it all in. Much less is it inmy Power to give You a faithful Account of itall. Those five Minutes were the most spirit-stirringones I have ever experienced throughout myLife—every Second appeared surcharged with anexciting Fluid which transported Me to supernalRegions, to Lands of Unrealities akin to vivid Dreams.

At one Moment, I remember seeing my LordStour make a rapid and furtive movement in thedirection of his Sword, which lay some littleDistance from him on the Ground, but Mr. Bettertonwas quicker even than his Foe, more alert, and withone bound he had reached the Weapon, ere myLord's Hand was nigh it, had picked it up and,with a terrific Jerk, broke it in half across his Knee.Then he threw the mangled Hilt in one direction, thePoint in another, and my Lord raised his Fists,ready, methinks, to fly at his Throat.

But, as I have already told You, dear Mistress,the whole Episode stands but as a confused Miragebefore my Mind; and through it all I seemed to seea mere Vision of her Ladyship, pale and ethereal,leaning against the Angle of the Bay; one delicateHand was clutching the heavy Curtain, drawingit around her as it were, as if in a pathetic andfutile Desire to shield herself from view.

CHAPTER XVI

THE GAME OF LOVE

1

In the meanwhile, the Crowd all round the Househad visibly swelled. Some People were stillstanding immediately beneath the Bow-window, whilstOthers swarmed into Tothill Street; the foremostamongst the Latter had given a vigorous Tug atthe Bell-pull, and the front Door being opened forthem by the bewildered Servant, they had made anoisy Irruption into the House. We could hearthem clattering up the Stairs, to the Accompanimentof much Laughing and Talking, and theoft-reiterated Refrain: "Tom Betterton is up to somePrank! Hurrah!"

Some few again, more venturesome and certainlymore Impudent than most, had indeed succeeded inscrambling up to the Window, and, one afteranother, Heads and Shoulders began to appear in theFramework of the open Casements.

Her Ladyship had no doubt realized from the firstthat Escape became impossible, within two Minutesof Mr. Betterton's first Summons to the Public.Just at first, perhaps, if my Lord had preserved hisentire Presence of Mind, he might have taken herby the Hand and fled with Her out of the House,before the unruly Crowd had reached Tothill Street.But my Lord, blinded by jealous Rage, had notthought of Her quickly enough, and now the Timewas past, and he remained impotent, gasping withFury, hardly conscious of his Actions. He hadbeen literally swept off his Feet by Mr. Betterton'seagle-wingedcoup de main, which left him puzzledand the prey to a nameless Terror as to what wasabout to follow.

Now, when he saw a number of Gentlemen troopingin by the Door, he could but stare at them inutter Bewilderment. Most of these Gallants werepersonally known to him: Sir William Davenantwas in the forefront with Mr. Thomas Killigrew ofthe King's Theatre, and the Earl of Rochester waswith them, as well as Mr. Wycherley. I alsorecognized Sir Charles Sedley and old Sir John Denham,as well as my Lord Roscommon, among the crowd.

They had all rushed in through the Door, laughingand jesting, as was the wont of all these gayand courtly Sparks; but at sight of the LadyBarbara, they halted. Gibes and unseemly Jokes brokeupon their Lips, and for the most part their Handswent up to their Hats, and they made her Ladyshipa deep obeisance. Indeed, just then she looked morelike a Wraith than a living Woman, and the Lightof the Candles, which flickered wildly in theDraught, accentuated the Weirdness of her Appearance.

"What is it, Tom? What is amiss?" SirWilliam Davenant was thus the first to speak.

"We thought You were playing some Prank."

"You did call from that Window, did You not,Tom?" my Lord Rochester insisted.

And one or two of the Gentlemen noddedsomewhat coldly to my Lord Stour.

"Yes. I did call," Mr. Betterton replied, quitefirmly. "But 'twas no Whim on my Part thus todrag You into my House. It was not so much myVoice that you heard as the Trumpet blast of Truth."

At this, my Lord Stour broke into one of thoseharsh, mirthless Fits of Laughter which betokenedthe perturbation of his Spirit.

"The Truth!" he exclaimed with a cutting Sneer."From You?"

"Aye! the Truth!" Mr. Betterton rejoined withperfect calm, even whilst his Friends glanced,puzzled and inquiring, from my Lord Stour to him,and thence to her Ladyship's pale face, and even toMe. "The Truth," he added with a deep Sigh asof intense Relief; "The Truth, at Last!"

He stood in the centre of the Room, with oneHand resting upon the Desk, his Eyes fixedfearlessly upon the Sea of Faces before him. Not theslightest Tremor marred the perfect Harmony ofhis Voice, or the firm poise of his manly Figure.You know as well as I do, dear Mistress, themarvellous Magnetism of Mr. Betterton's Personality,the Way he hath of commanding the Attention ofa Crowd, whenever he chooseth to speak. Think ofhim then, dear Lady, with Head thrown back, hisexquisite Voice rising and falling in those subtleand impressive Cadences wherewith he is wont tohold an Audience enthralled. Of a truth, noexperienced Manager in Stage-Craft could have devisedso thrilling an Effect, as the Picture whichMr. Betterton—the greatest Actor of this or of anyTime—presented at that Moment, standing alone,facing the Crowd which was thrilled into deadlySilence, and with the wraith-like Figure of thatexquisitely beautiful Woman as a Foil to his ownself-possessed, virile Appearance.

"Gentlemen," he began, with slow, evenEmphasis, "I pray you bear with me; for what I haveto say will take some time in telling. Awhile ago hisLordship of Stour put upon me such an Insult asthe Mind of Man can hardly conceive. Then, onthe Pretence that I was not a born Gentleman ashe was, he refused me Satisfaction by the Sword.For this I hated him and swore that I would be evenwith him, that I would exact from his Arrogance,Outrage for Outrage, and Infamy for Infamy." Hethen turned to my Lord Stour and spoke to himdirectly. "You asked me just now, my Lord, ifmy Revenge was satisfied. My answer to that is:not yet! Not until I see You on Your bendedKnees here, before these Gentlemen—my Friendsand Yours—receiving from the miserableMountebank whom you mocked, the pitiful cur whom Youthrashed, that which you hold—or should hold—moreprecious than all the Treasures of this earth:your Honour and the good Name of the Lady whohonours You with her Love! Gentlemen!" he wenton, and once more faced the Crowd. "You knowthe Aspersions which have been cast on my LordStour's Loyalty. Rumours have been current thatthe late aborted Conspiracy was betrayed by him tothe Countess of Castlemaine, and that She obtainedhis Pardon, whilst all or most of his Associateswere driven into Exile or perished on the Scaffold.Well, Gentlemen, 'twas I who begged for my Lord'spardon from the Countess of Castlemaine. HisDegradation, his Obloquy, was the Revenge whichI had studiously planned. Nay! I pray you, hearme unto the End," he continued, as a loud Murmurof Horror and of Indignation followed on thisSelf-Accusation. "My Lord Stour is no Traitor, saveto Her whom he loves and whom in his Thoughtshe hath dared to outrage. The Lady BarbaraWychwoode deigned to plead with me for the Man whomshe honoured with her Love. She pleaded with methis afternoon, in the Park, in sight of manyPassers-by; but I in my Obstinacy and Arrogancewould not, God forgive me, listen to her."

He paused, and I could see the beads ofPerspiration glittering upon his Forehead, white nowlike Italian Alabaster. They all stood before him,subdued and silent. Think of Sir WilliamDavenant, dear Mistress, and his affection forMr. Betterton; think of my Lord Roscommon and of SirCharles Sedley and his Lordship of Rochester,whose Admiration for Mr. Betterton's Talent wasonly equalled by their Appreciation for His Worth!It was before them all, before all these fastidiousGentlemen, that the great and sensitive Artist hadelected to humble his Pride to the dust.

But you shall judge.

"Gentlemen," Mr. Betterton went on after abrief while; "We all know that Love is a Gameat which one always cheats. I loved the LadyBarbara Wychwoode. I had the presumption to dreamof her as my future Wife. Angered at her Scornof my Suit, I cheated her into coming here to-night,luring her with the Hope that I would consent toright the Man for whose sake she was willing torisk so much, for whom she was ready to sacrificeeven her fair Name. Now I have learned to myhurt that Love, the stern little god, will not betrifled with. When we try to cheat him, he cheatsus worse at the last; and if he makes Kings of us,he leaves us Beggars in the End. When my LordStour, burning with sacrilegious jealousy, madeirruption into my Room, the Lady Barbara hadjust succeeded in wringing from me an Avowalwhich proclaimed his Integrity and my Shame. Shewas about to leave me, humbled and crushed in myPride, she herself pure and spotless as the Lilies,unapproachable as the Stars."

2

Mr. Betterton had ceased speaking for some time;nevertheless, Silence profound reigned in the dark,wainscotted Room for many seconds after the finalecho of that perfect Voice had ceased to reverberate.Indeed, dear Mistress, I can assure You that, thoughthere were at least fifty Persons present in theRoom, including those unknown to Me who wereswarming around the Framework of the Casements,you might have heard the proverbial Pin drop justthen. A tense Expression rested on every Face.Can You wonder that I scanned them all with theEagerness born of my Love for the great Artist,who had thus besmirched his own fair Name inorder to vindicate that of his bitterest Foe? ThatI read Condemnation of my Friend in many aGlance, I'll not deny, and this cut me to the Quick.

True! Mr. Betterton's Scheme of Vengeance hadbeen reprehensible if measured by the highStandards of Christian Forbearance. But remember howhe had been wronged, not once, but repeatedly; andeven when I saw the Frown on my LordRoscommon's brow, the Look of Stern Reproof in SirCharles Sedley's Face, there arose before mine Eyesthe Vision of the great and sensitive Artist, of thehigh-souled Gentleman, staggering beneath theBlows dealt by a band of hired Ruffians at theBidding of this young Coxcomb, whose very Existencewas as naught in the Eyes of the cultured Worldbeside the Genius of the inimitable Mr. Betterton.

I said that the Silence was tense. Meseemed thatno one dared to break it. Even those idly Curiouswho had swarmed up the Rainpipes of this Housein order to witness one of Tom Betterton's Pranks,felt awed by the Revelation of this Drama of agreat Man's Soul. Indeed, the Silence becamepresently oppressive. I, for one, felt a great Buzzingin mine Ears. The Lights from the Candlesassumed weird and phantasmagoric Proportions tillthey seared my aching Eyes.

Then slowly my Lord Stour approached herLadyship, sank on his Knees before Her and raised theHem of her Robe to his Lips. A sob broke fromher Throat; she tried to smother it by pressing herHandkerchief into her Mouth. It took Her a secondor two to regain her Composure. But Breeding andPride came to her Aid. I saw the stiffening of herFigure, the studied and deliberate Movementwherewith She readjusted her Mantle and her Veil.

My Lord Stour was still on his Knees. At asign from her Ladyship he rose. He held out hisleft Arm and she placed her right Hand on it, thentogether they went out of the Room. The Crowd ofGentlemen parted in order to make way for theTwain, then when they had gone through, some ofthe Gentlemen followed them immediately; otherslingered for awhile, hesitating. Sir WilliamDavenant, Mr. Killigrew, my Lord Rochester, allof Mr. Betterton's Friends, appeared at first inclinedto remain in order to speak with him. They evendid me the Honour of consulting me with a Look,asking of my Experience of the great Actor whetherthey should stay. I slowly shook my Head, andthey wisely acted on my Advice. I knew that myFriend would wish to be alone. He, so reserved,so proud, had laid his Soul bare before the Public,who was wont to belaud and to applaud him. TheHumiliation and the Effort must have been a terribleStrain, which only Time and Solitude couldeffectually cure.

He had scarce moved from his Position beside theDesk, still stood there with one slender Handresting upon it, his Gaze fixed vaguely upon the Doorthrough which his Friends were slowly filing out.

Within two minutes or less after the Departure ofmy Lord Stour and her Ladyship, the last of theCrowd of Gentlemen and of Idlers had gone. AnonI went across the Room and closed the Door behindthem. When I turned again, I saw that the knot ofquidnuncs no longer filled the Casements, and aprotracted hum of Voices, a crackling of Ivy twigsand general sound of Scrimmage and of Scramblingoutside the Window, proclaimed the Fact that eventhey had had the Sense and the Discretion to retirequietly from this Spot, hallowed by the Martyrdomof a great Man's Soul.

3

Thus I was left alone with my Friend.

He had drawn his habitual Chair up to the Deskand sat down. Just for a few Moments he restedboth his Elbows on the Desk and buried his Facein his Hands. Then, with that familiar, quick littleSigh of His, He drew the Candles closer to him and,taking up a Book, he began to read.

I knew what it was that he was reading, or,rather, studying. He had been absorbed in theWork many a time before now, and had expressedhis ardent Desire to give public Readings of it oneday when it was completed. It was the openingCanto of a great Epic Poem, the manuscript ofwhich had been entrusted to Mr. Betterton forPerusal by the author, Mr. John Milton, who hadbut lately been liberated from prison through theuntiring Efforts of Sir William Davenant on hisbehalf. Mr. Milton hoped to complete the Epic inthe next half-dozen years. Its Title is "Paradise Lost."

I remained standing beside the open Window,loath to close it as the Air was peculiarly soft andrefreshing. Below me, in the Park, the idle,chattering Crowd had already dispersed. From faraway, I still could hear the sweet, sad Strains of theamorous Song, and through the Stillness of theEvening, the Words came to mine Ear, wafted onthe Breeze:

"You are my Faith, my Hope, my All!

What e'er the Future may unfold,

No trial too great—no Thing too small.

Your whispered Words shall make me bold

To win at last for Your dear Sake

A worthy Place in Future's World."

 

I felt my Soul enwrapt in a not unpleasantreverie; an exquisite Peace seemed to havedescended on my Mind, lately so agitated by Thoughtsof my dear, dear Friend.

Suddenly a stealthy Sound behind Me caused meto turn; and, in truth, I am not sure even now ifwhat I saw was Reality, or the Creation of mineown Dreams.

The Lady Barbara had softly and surreptitiouslyre-entered the Room. She walked across it on tip-toe,her silken Skirts making just the softest possiblefrou-frou as she walked. Her cloud-like Veilwrapped her Head entirely, concealing her fair Hair,and casting a grey Shadow over her Eyes. Mr. Bettertondid not hear her, or, if he did, he did notchoose to look up. When her Ladyship was quiteclose to the Desk, I noticed that she had a Bunchof white Roses in her Hand such as are grown inthe Hot-houses of rich Noblemen.

For a few Seconds she stood quite still. Thenshe raised the Roses slowly to her Lips, and laidthem down without a word upon the Desk.

After which, she glided out of the Room assilently, as furtively, as she came.

4

And thus, dear Mistress, have I come to the endof my long Narrative. I swear to You by the livingGod that everything which I have herein related isthe Truth and Naught but the Truth.

There were many People present in Mr. Betterton'sroom during that memorable Scene, when hesacrificed his Pride and his Revenge in order toright the Innocent. Amongst these Witnesses therewere some, whom Malice and Envy would blindto the Sublimity of so noble an Act. Do not listento them, honoured Mistress, but rather to thepromptings of your own Heart and to that unerringJudgment of Men and of Events which is theAttribute of good and pure Women.

Mr. Betterton hath never forfeited your Esteemby any Act or Thought. The Infatuation whichmomentarily dulled his Vision to all save to the Beautyof the Lady Barbara, hath ceased to exist. Itscourse was ephemeral and hath gone without aTrace of Regret or Bitterness in its wake. Theeminent Actor, the high-souled Artist, whom allcultured Europe doth reverence and admire, standsas high to-day in that same World's Estimation ashe did, before a young and arrogant Coxcomb daredto measure his own Worth against that of a Manas infinitely above him as are the Stars. But, dearMistress, Mr. Betterton now is lonely and sad. Heis like a Man who hath been sick and weary, and isstill groping after Health and Strength. Take pityon his Loneliness, I do conjure You. Give him backthe inestimable Boon of your Goodwill and of yourFriendship, which alone could restore to him thatPeace of Mind so necessary for the furtherance ofhis Art.

And if, during the Course of my Narrative, Ihave seemed to you over-presumptuous, then I doentreat your Forgiveness. Love for my Friend andReverence for your Worth have dictated everyWord which I have written. If, through myLabours, I have succeeded in turning away someof the just Anger which had possessed your Soulagainst the Man whom, I dare aver, you still honourwith your Love, then, indeed, I shall feel that evenso insignificant a Life as mine hath not been whollywasted.

I do conclude, dear and honoured Mistress, witha Prayer to Almighty God for your Welfare andthat of the Man whom I love best in all the World.I am convinced that my Prayer will find Favourbefore the Throne of Him who is the Father of usAll. And He who reads the innermost Secrets ofevery Heart, knows that your Welfare is coincidentwith that of my Friend. Thus am I content toleave the Future in His Hands.

And I myself do remain, dear Mistress,

Your humble and obedient Servant,

JOHN HONEYWOOD.

EPILOGUE

Ring down the Curtain. The Play is ended.The Actors have made their final Bow before Youand thanked You for your Plaudits. The chiefPlayer—a sad and lonely Man—has for the noncespoken his last upon the Stage.

All is Silence and Mystery now. The Lights areout. And yet the Audience lingers on, loath tobid Farewell to the great Artist and to his minorSatellites who have helped to wile away a fewpleasant Hours. You, dear Public, knowing so muchabout them, would wish to know more. You wishto know—an I am not mistaken—whether theLabour of Love wrought by good Master Honeywooddid in due course bear its Fruitfulness. Youwish to know—or am I unduly self-flattered—whetherthe Play of Passion, of Love and ofRevenge, set by the worthy Clerk before You, hadan Epilogue—one that would satisfy your Sense ofJustice and of Mercy.

Then, I pray You, turn to the Pages of History,of which Master Honeywood's Narrative forms anintegral and pathetic Part. One of these Pages willreveal to You that which You wish to know.Thereon You will see recorded the Fact that, after abrief and distinguished Visit during that Summer tothe City and University of Stockholm, whereHonours without number were showered upon thegreat English Actor, Mr. Betterton came back toEngland, to the delight of an admiring Public,for he was then in the very Plenitude of his Powers.

Having read of the Artist's triumph, I pray Youthen to turn over the Page of the faithful Chronicleof his Career, and here You will find a brief Chapterwhich deals with his private Life and with hisHappiness. You will see that at the End of thisself-same year 1662, the Register of St. Giles',Cripplegate, contains the Record of a Marriagebetween Thomas Betterton, Actor, of the parishof St. Margaret's, Westminster, and MaryJoyce Saunderson, of the aforesaid parish of St. Giles'.

That this Marriage was an exceptionally happyone we know from innumerable Data, Minutes andMemoranda supplied by Downes and others; thatMaster John Honeywood was present at theCeremony itself we may be allowed to guess. Thoseof us who understand and appreciate the artisticTemperament, will readily agree with the worthyClerk when he said that it cannot be judged byordinary Standards. The long and successful Careersof Thomas Betterton and of Mistress Saundersonhis Wife testify to the Fact that their Art in noway suffered, while their Souls passed through thefiery Ordeal of Passion and of Sorrow; but ratherthat it became ennobled and purified, until theythemselves took their place in the Heart andMemory of the cultured World, among the Immortals.

THE END

By BARONESS ORCZY

His Majesty's Well-Beloved
The League of the Scarlet Pimpernel
Flower o' the Lily
The Man in Grey
Lord Tony's Wife
A Sheaf of Bluebells
Leatherface
The Bronze Eagle
A Bride of the Plains
The Laughing Cavalier
"Unto Cæsar"
El Dorado
Meadowsweet
The Noble Rogue
The Heart of a Woman
Petticoat Rule

GEORGE H. DORAN COMPANY

NEW YORK

*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOKHIS MAJESTY'S WELL-BELOVED ***