* * * * *

Presently, even before supper came in, she had begun her questioning.

"Cousin Roger," she said--(we two were by the fire, she on a couch and I

in a great chair)--"Cousin Roger, you have treated me shamefully. You

have told me nothing, except that you were in trouble; and that I could

have guessed for myself. I am come to town for three days--no more: my

father for a long time forbade me even to do that. If he were not gone

to Stortford for the horse-fair I should not be here now."

"He does not know you are come to town!" I cried.

She shook her head, like a child, and her eyes twinkled with merriment.

"He thinks I am still minding the sheep," she said. "But that is not the

point. Cousin Roger, I care nothing whatever for His Majesty's affairs,

nor for secret service, nor for anything else of that kind. But I care

very much that you should be in trouble and not tell me what it is."

Now I had not had much time to think what I should say, if she

questioned me, as I knew she would; for it would not be an easy thing to

tell her that her father was at the root of my troubles and had behaved

like a treacherous hound. Yet sooner or later she must be told, unless I

lost heart altogether. I might soften it and soften it--pretend that her

father owed a greater duty to the King than to me, and must have thought

it right to do as he had done. But she would see through it all: that I

knew very well.

"Dolly," said I, very slowly, "I have not told you yet, because there

was nothing in the world that you could do to help me. I have waited,

thinking that matters might come straight again; but they have not. I

will tell you, then, before you go home again. I promise you that. And

on my side I ask you not to question me this evening. Let us have this

one evening without any troubles at all."

She looked at me very earnestly for a moment without speaking; and I

could see that her lightness of manner had been but put on to disguise

how anxious she was. It is wonderful how a woman--in spite of her

foolishness at other times--can read the heart of a man. I had said very

little to her in my letters; and yet I could see now how she had

suffered all the while. I had thought myself to have been alone in my

unhappiness; now I understood that never for an instant had I been so;

and my whole heart rose up in a kind of exultation and longing. Then she

swallowed down her anxiety.

"I take you at your word, Cousin Roger," she said lightly. "I will ask

no question at all."

Then Anne and my man James came in with the supper.

* * * * *

I think there is not one moment of that evening in my old lodgings that

I have forgotten. As now I look back upon it it seems to me to have that

kind of brightness which a garden has when a storm is coming up very

quickly, and the clouds are very black, and yet the shadow has not yet

reached it. I remember how the curtains hung across the windows; they

were my own old curtains of blue stuff, a little faded but still rich

and good; how the fire glowed in the wide chimney; how Dolly looked

across the table, in her blue sac, with lace, and her wide sleeves, and

her little pearls. She had dressed up, all for me, as indeed I had for

her, for I was in my maroon suit, with my silver-handled sword and my

black periwig. Ah! and above all I remember the very look in her eyes as

she suddenly clapped her hands together. (The servants were out of the

room at that instant.)

"Cousin Roger!" she said, "I shall never keep my promise unless I am

distracted. We will go to the play: you and I and Anne, all together:

and your man James shall wait upon us with oranges."

Well; she had said it; and I laughed at her merriment: she was so like a

child on her holiday, and a stolen holiday too. The ways of God are very

strange--that so much should hang upon so little! It was upon that

sudden thought of hers that the whole of my life turned; and hers too!

As it was, I said nothing but that it should be as she wished; and that

my coach should set us down there and come again when the play was over.

So the threads are caught up in those great unseen shuttles that are

guided by God's Hand, and the whole pattern changed, it would appear, by

a moment's whim. And yet I cannot doubt--for if I did, my whole faith

would be shattered--that even those whims are part of the Divine design,

and that all is done according to His Holy Will.

The rest of supper was hastened, lest we should be late for the play;

and then, when James came up to tell us that the coach was

waiting--though it was scarcely a hundred yards to the King's

Theatre--and Dolly was gone for her hood and cloak, I stood, with a

glass of wine in my hand, on the hearth, looking down at the fire.

Now I cannot tell how it was; but I suppose that the shadow that I spoke

of just now, began to touch that little garden of love in which I stood;

for a kind of melancholy came on me again. While she had been with cue,

it had all seemed gone; we had been as merry at supper as if nothing at

all were the matter; but now, even while she was in the next chamber

with her maid, I fell a-brooding once more. I thought--God knows

why!--of the little parlour at Hare Street which I had not seen for so

long, and of the fire that burned there, upon that hearth too--the

hearth on which I had stood in my foolish patronizing pride when I had

first asked her to be my wife and she had treated me as I deserved. I

did not think then of how we had sat there together afterwards so often;

and of the happiness I had had there, but only of that miserable

Christmas night when I thought I had lost her. The mood came on me

suddenly; and I was still brooding when she came in again, alone. She

was in her hood, and her face looked out of it like a flower.

"Cousin Roger," she said, "I have never told you why I came up to-day."

"My dear; you did," I said. "It was your father who--"

"No; no; but this day in particular. Cousin Roger, the woman came again

last night."

"The woman! What woman?" I asked.

"Why--the tall old woman--to my chamber, up the stairs. You remember?

She came the night before you were sent for--why--six years ago."

I stared on her; and a kind of horror came on me.

"Ah! do not look like that," she said. "It is nothing." She smiled full

at me, putting her hand on my arm.

"You saw her!" I said.

"No; no. I heard her only. It was just as it was before. But I came up

to town to--to see if all were well with you. And it is: or will be.

Kiss me, Roger, before we go."

CHAPTER VI

I cannot think without horror, even now, of that play we saw on that

night in the King's Theatre. It was Mrs. Aphra Behn's tragedy, called

_Abdelazar_, or _The Moor's Revenge_, and Mrs. Lee acted the principal

part of _Isabella_, the Spanish Queen. We sat in a little box next the

stage, which we had to ourselves; and in the box opposite was my Lord

the Earl of Bath with a couple of his ladies. He was a pompous-looking

fellow, and a hot Protestant, and he looked very disdainfully at the

company. In the box over him was Mistress Gwyn herself, and the people

cried at her good-humouredly when she came in, at which she bowed very

merrily as if she were royal, this way and that, so that the whole

play-house was full of laughter. It was turned very cold, with a frost,

and before the play was half done the whole house was in a steam under

the glass cupola. Folks were eating oranges everywhere in the higher

seats, and throwing the peel down upon the heads of the people below.

The stage was lighted, as always, with wax candles burning on cressets;

and the orange girls were standing in the front row of the pit with

their backs to the stage.

Dolly, who was a little quiet at first, got very merry and excited

presently at all the good-humour, as well as at the actors. She had

thrown her hood back, so that her head came out of it very sweet and

pretty; and a spot of colour burned on each cheek. I saw her watching

Mistress Nell once or twice with a look of amazement--for she knew who

she was--for Nell, though she was not on the stage, bore herself as

though she were, and never ceased for an instant, though full of

merriment and good humour, to turn herself this way and that, and bow to

her friends, some of whom relished it very little; and to applaud very

heartily, and then, immediately to throw a great piece of orange peel at

Mr. Harris, who played the King. She had her boy with her--whom His

Majesty had made Duke of St. Albans--and two or three gentlemen whom I

did not know.

Dolly whispered to me once, to know who the boy was.

"That is her boy," I said.

Dolly said nothing; but I understood the kind of terror that she had to

see them both there, so outrageous and bold; but she presently turned

back again to the stage to observe the play.

* * * * *

I said just now that the play which we saw has very dreadful memories

for me; but I do not know that more than once or twice at the time I had

any such feeling. There were some pretty passages in the play that

distracted me altogether, and a song or two, of which I remember very

well one sung by a _Nymph_, and answered by her swain with his

shepherds, of which the refrain was:

_The Sun is up and will not stay;_

_And oh! how very short's a lover's day!_

For the rest there was a quantity of bloodshed and intrigue and false

accusation, but I was surprised, considering the subject, how little was

against Popery; but Mrs. Behn was content at the end of it to make the

_Cardinal_ beg pardon of _King Philip_.

For the most part then I attended to the action--(and to Dolly, of

course, all the while). Yet certainly there were other moments for me,

when the shadow came down again, and I saw the actors and the whole

house as if in a kind of bloody mist, though I had at that time no

reason for it at all, and do not think that I shewed any sign of it. Two

or three times before, as I have related, there came on me a strange

mood--once when I came up from Wapping, and once as I put out from Dover

in the packet. But it was not that kind of mood this time. Then it was

as if all the world of sense were but a very thin veil, and all that was

happening a kind of dream, or play. Now it was as if the play had a

shocking kind of reality, as if the audience and the actors were

monstrous devils in hell; and the paint on Mrs. Lee's cheeks her true

colour, and her gestures great symbols, and the noise of the people the

roar of hell. This came and went once or twice; and at the time I

thought it to be my own humour only; but now I know that it was

something other than this. When I looked at Dolly it went again in an

instant, and she and I seemed to me the heart of everything, and all

else but our circumstances and for our pleasure.

Well; it ended at last, and there was a great deal of applauding, and

Mrs. Lee came on to the stage again to bow and smile. It was then, for

the third time, I think, that my horror fell on me. As I stared at her,

all else seemed to turn dim and vanish. She was in her costume with the

blood on her arm and breast, and her great billowy skirts about her, and

her stage-jewels, and she was smiling; and I, as I looked at her, seemed

to see the folly and the shame of her like fire; and yet that folly and

shame had a power that nothing else had. Her smile seemed to me like the

grin of a devil; and her colour to be daubs upon her bare cheek-bones,

and she herself like some rotten thing with a semblance of life that was

not life at all. I cannot put it into words at all: I know only that I

ceased applauding, and stared on her as if I were bewitched.

Then I saw my dear love's fingers on my arm, and her face looking at me

as if she were frightened.

"What is the matter, Cousin Roger?" she whispered; and then: "Come,

Cousin Roger; it is late."

Then my mood passed, or I shook myself clear of it.

"Yes; yes," I said. "It is nothing. Come, my dear."

* * * * *

The little passage by which we went out was crammed full of folk,

talking and whistling and laughing; some imitating the cries of the

actors, some, both men and women, looking about them freely with bold

eyes. I saw presently that Dolly did not like it, and that we should be

a great while getting out that way; and then I saw a little door beside

me that might very well lead out to the air. I pushed upon this, and saw

another little passage.

"James," said I, for he was close behind me, "go out and bring the

coach round to this side if there is a way out." (And then to Dolly.)

"Come, sweetheart, we will find a way out here."

I pushed my way behind a fellow who was just in front, and got through

the door, and Dolly and her maid followed me.

It was a little passage with doors on the right which I think led to the

actors' rooms and the stage, for I heard talking and laughing behind;

but I made nothing of that, and we went on. As we went past one of the

doors it opened all of a sudden and Mrs. Lee herself came out, still in

her dress and her jewels, and her face all a-daub with paint, and the

blood on her arm and dress, and ran through another door further along,

leaving behind her a great whiff of coarse perfume. It was but for an

instant that we saw her; yet, even in that instant, a sort of horror

came on me again as if she were something monstrous and ominous,

though--poor woman!--I have never heard anything against her more than

was said at that time against all women that were actresses--all, that

is, except Mrs. Betterton. She appeared more dreadful even than in the

play, or than when she had spoken those terrible words as she sat in her

chair, all bloody, as she died--stabbed by the mock Friar:

--_but 'tis too late--

And Life and Love must yield to Death and Fate._

I looked at Dolly; but she was laughing, though with a kind of terror in

her eyes too at that sudden apparition.

"Oh, Roger!" she said, "and now she will go and wash it all off, will

she not?"

"Yes, yes," I said. "She will wash it all off." And I looked at her, and

made myself laugh too. She said nothing, but took my arm a little

closer.

* * * * *

I was right about the passage, that it led out to the air, yet not into

Little Russell Street, but to a little yard by which, I suppose, the

players came to their rooms. The frost had fallen very sharp while we

had been in the theatre; overhead the stars tingled as if they shook,

beyond the chimneys, and there were little pools of ice between the

stones.

I stayed an instant when we came down the three steps that led into the

yard, to pull Dolly's hood more closely about her head, for it was

bitter cold, and to gather up my own cloak, and, as I did this, I saw

that three men had followed us out, and were coming down the steps

behind us. There was no one else in the yard. There was one little

oil-lamp burning near one of the two entrances to shew the players the

way, I suppose.

Then, when I had arranged my cloak, I gave Dolly my arm once more, and,

as I did so, heard Anne, who was behind us, suddenly give a great

scream; and, at the sound, whisked about to see what was the matter.

There was a man coming at me from behind with a dagger, and the two

other fellows were behind him.

* * * * *

Now I had not an instant in which to think what to do, though I knew

well enough what they were and whom they were after. What I did, I did,

I suppose, by a kind of instinct. I tore my arm free from Dolly's hand,

pushing her behind me with my left hand, and at the same time dashed my

cloak away as well as I could, to draw out my sword. The fellow was a

little on my right when I was so turned about, but appeared a little

confounded by my quickness, for he hesitated.

"Back to the wall, Dolly!" I shouted. "Back to the wall"; and, at the

same time I began to back myself, with her still behind me, to the wall

that was opposite to the steps we had just come down. My cloak was sadly

in my way; but, as I reached the wall, still going backwards, I had my

sword out just in time to keep off, by a flourish of it, the fellow who

had recovered himself, and was coming at me again.

So for a moment, we stood; and in that moment I heard Anne screaming

somewhere for help.

* * * * *

Then I saw how the two other men, at a swift sign from their leader,

spread out on this side and that, so as to come at me from three

directions together; and, at that saw that I must delay no longer.

Before, I think, they saw what I intended, I leapt forward at the fellow

in front, and lunged with all my force; and though he threw up his arms,

with the dagger in one of his bands, and tried to evade a parry all at

once, he was too late; my point went clean through his throat, and he

fell backwards with a dreadful cry. And, at the same moment his two

companions ran in on me from either side.

Now I do not even now see what else I could have done. I felt sure that

one of them would have me, for I could not properly deal with them both;

but I turned and stabbed quickly, with a short arm, at the face of the

one on my right, missing him altogether, and, at the same time strove to

strike with my left elbow the face of the other.

But, ah! Dolly was too quick for me. She must have run forward on my

left to keep the fellow off, for I heard a swift dreadful sound as I

shortened my right arm to stab at the other again; and I felt something

fall about my feet.

I turned like a madman, screaming aloud with anger, careless of all

else, or of whether or no anyone ran at me again, for I knew, in part at

least what had happened; and, at the same moment the yard seemed all

alive with folks running and crying out. The door at the head of the

steps was open, and three or four players ran out and down; while from

Little Russell Street on the right, where the coaches were, a great

number ran in.

But I cared nothing for that at that instant. I had flung away my sword

on to the stones and was stooping to pick up my dear love who had saved

my life. There was already a great puddle of blood, and I felt it run

hot over my left hand that was about her--hot, for it flowed straight

from her heart that had been stabbed through by the knife that was aimed

at me.

* * * * *

When I looked up again, I saw, standing against the light in the door

opposite, at the head of the steps, the woman that had played the Queen

with that mock-blood still on her arm and breast.

CHAPTER VII

"Mr. Mallock," said the page, "the King is heartily sorry, and wishes to

tell you so himself."

I said nothing.

Of all that happened, after Dolly's death in the theatre-yard, I think

now as of a kind of dream, though it changed my whole life and has made

me what I am. I have, too, scarcely the heart to write of it; and what I

say of it now is gathered partly from what I can remember and partly

from what other folks told me.

It must have been a terrible sight that they all saw as they ran in from

the lane, my man James first among them all. There lay, bloodying all

the ice about him, the fellow whom I had run through the throat, as dead

as the rat he was, but still jerking blood from beneath his ear; and

there in my arms, as I kneeled on the stones, lay Dolly, her head fallen

back and out of her hood, as white as a lily, dead too in an instant,

for she was stabbed through her heart, with her life-blood in a great

smear down her side, and all over my hands and clothes.

My man James proved again as faithful a friend as he had always been to

me; for the affair had been no fault of his: I had sent him for the

coach, and he was bringing it up to the yard-entrance from the lane, as

Anne had run out screaming. Then he had run in, and my other man with

him, and the crowd after him, in time to see the two living assassins

make off into the dark entrance on the other side. A number had run

after them, but to no purpose, for we never heard of them again; and my

Dolly's murderer, I suppose, is still breathing God's air, unless he has

been hanged long ago for some other crime.

The next matter was to get us home again; for James has told me that I

would allow no one to touch either her or me, until a physician came

out of the crowd and told me the truth. Then I had gathered her up in my

arms like a child without a word to any; and went out, the crowd falling

back as I came, to where the coach waited in Little Russell Street.

Still carrying her I went into the coach, and would allow no one else

within; and so we drove back to Covent Garden.

When we came there a part of the crowd had already run on before and was

waiting. When the coach drew up, I came out of the coach, with my dear

love still in my arms, and went upstairs with her to her own chamber and

laid her on her bed; and it was a great while before I would let the

women come at her to wash her and make all sweet and clean again. I lay

all that night in the outer parlour that had been my own so long ago,

or, rather, I went up and down it till daybreak; and no one dared to

speak to me or to move away the supper-things from the table where she

and I had supped the night before.

The inquest was held that day, but nothing came of it. I related my

story in the barest words, saying that I knew nothing of the three men,

and leaving it to Mr. Chiffinch to whisper in the officer's ear to

prevent him asking what he should not. Of the man I had killed nothing

was ever made public, except that he was a tanner's man and lived in

Wapping, and that his name was Belton.

On the Saturday we went down to Hare Street, all together, with the body

of the little maid in a coach by itself. I rode my horse behind, but

would speak never a word to my Cousin Tom who went in a coach, neither

then nor at any other time; neither would I lie in Hare Street House,

nor even enter it; but I lay in the house of a farmer at Hormead; and

waited outside the house for the funeral to come out next day, after the

Morning Prayer had been said in the church. She lies now in the

churchyard of Hormead Parva, where we laid her on that windy Sunday, in

the shadow of the little Saxon church. I rode straight away again with

my men from the churchyard gate, and came to London very late that

night. I went straight to my lodgings, and refused myself to everyone

for three days, writing letters here and there, and giving orders as to

the packing of all my effects. On the Thursday, a week after my Cousin

Dolly had come to town, I went to Mr. Chiffinch to take my leave.

Now of those days I dare say no more than that; and even if I would I

could add very little. My mind throughout was in a kind of dark tumult,

until, after my three days of solitude, I had determined what to do.

There were hours, I will not deny, in which my very faith in God Himself

seemed wholly gone; in which it was merely incredible to me that if He

were in Heaven such things could happen on earth. But sorrow of such a

dreadful kind as this is, in truth, if we will but yield to it, a sort

of initiation or revelation, rather than an obscurer of truth; and, by

the time that my three days were over I thought I saw where my duty lay,

and to what all those events tended. I had come from a monk's life that

I might taste what the world was like; I had tasted and found it very

bitter; there was not one affair--(for so it appeared to me then)--that

had not failure written all over it. Very well then; I would go back to

the monk's life once more if they would have me. On the third day, then,

I had written to my Lord Abbot at St. Paul's-without-the-Walls, telling

him that I was coming back again, and had thrown up my affairs here.

"You were right, my Lord," I wrote at the end of it, "and I was wrong.

My Vocation seems very plain to me now; and I would to God that I had

seen it sooner, or at the least been more humble to Your Lordship's

opinion."

At first I had thought that I would take no leave of the King; and had

told Mr. Chiffinch so, after I had announced to him what my intentions

were, and announced them too in such a manner that he scarcely even

attempted to dissuade me from them. But he had begged me to take my

leave in proper form; no harm would be done by that; and then he had

told me that His Majesty knew all that had passed and was very sorry for

it.

I sat silent when he said that.

"Yes, Mr. Mallock," he said again, "and I mean not only for your own

sorrow, but for his own treatment of you. It hath been a whim with him:

he treats often so those whom he loves. His Majesty hath something of a

woman in him, in that matter. His suspicions were real enough, at least

for a time."

"I had done better if I had been one of his enemies, then," said I.

"It is of no use to be bitter, sir," said the page. "Men are what they

are. We would all be otherwise, no doubt, if we could. See the King, Mr.

Mallock, I beg of you: and appear once at least at Court, publicly. You

should allow him at least to make amends."

I gave a great sigh.

"Well: it shall be so," I said. "But I must leave town on Tuesday."

* * * * *

It was with a very strange sense of detachment that I went about my

affairs all Friday and Saturday; for I had still plenty to do, and was

not to see His Majesty till the Saturday night after supper. The weather

was turned soft again, and we had sunshine for an hour or two. On one

day I watched His Majesty go to dinner, with his guards about him, and

his gentlemen; but I did not see it with the pleasure I had once had in

such brave sights. It was with me, during those days, as it had been

with me for those two or three moments during the play, though in a

gentler manner; for I thought more of the humanity beneath than of the

show above; and a rotten humanity most of it seemed to me. These were

but men like myself, and some pretty evil too. Those gentlemen that were

with the King--there was scarcely one of them about whom I did not know

something considerably to his discredit: there was my Lord Ailesbury in

strict attendance on him; and Killigrew--he that had the theatre--and

the less said of him the better: and there were three or four more like

him; the Earl of Craven was there, colonel of the foot-guards; and Lord

Keeper Guildford; and the Earl of Bath; and there, in the midst, the

King himself, with his blue silk cloak over his shoulders, and his

princely walk, going fast as he always did, and smiling-well, what of

those thirteen known mistresses of his that he had had, as well as of

those other--God knows how many!--poor maids, who must look upon him as

their ruin? It was a brave sight enough, there in the sunshine--I will

not deny that--with the sun on the jewels and the silks, and on the buff

and steel of the guards, with that swift kingly figure going in the

midst; and it was a brave noise that the music made as they went within

the Banqueting-Hall; but how, thought I, does God see it all? And for

what do such things count before His Holy Presence?

I had not rehearsed what I should say to His Majesty when I saw him; for

indeed it was of no further moment to me what either I or he should say.

I should be gone for ever in three days to the secret service of another

King than him--to that secret service where men need not lie and cheat

and spy and get their hearts broken after all and no gratitude for it;

but to that service which is called _Opus Dei_ in the choir, and is

prayer and study and contemplation in the cloister and the cell. There I

should sing, week by week:

"Oh! put not your trust in princes nor in any child of man: for there is

no help in them."

In such a mood then--not wholly Christian, I will admit!--I came into

the King's closet, to take my leave of him, on that Saturday night, the

last day of January, in the year of Salvation sixteen hundred and

eighty-five.

He was standing up when I entered his private closet, with a very

serious look on his face; and, to my astonishment, took a step towards

me, holding out both his hands. I will not deny that I was moved; but I

had determined to be very stiff. So I saluted him in the proper manner,

very carefully and punctually, kneeling to kiss his hand, and then

standing upright again. A little spaniel barked at me all the time.

"There! there! Mr. Mallock," he said. "Sit you down! sit you down!

There are some amends due to you."

I seated myself as he bade me; and he leaned towards me a little from

his own chair, with one leg across the other. I saw that he limped a

little as he went to his chair; and learned afterwards that he had a

sore on his heel from walking in the Park.

"There are some amends due to you," he said again: "but first I wish to

tell you how very truly I grieve at the sorrow that has come on you, and

in my service too, as I understand."

(Ah! thought I: then Mr. Chiffinch has made that plain enough.) He spoke

with the greatest feeling and gravity; but the next moment he near

ruined it all.

"Ah! these ladies!" he said. "How they can torment a man's heart to be

sure! How they can torture us and yet send us into a kind of ecstasy all

at once! We hate them one day, and vow never to see them again, and yet

when they die or leave us we would give the world to get them back

again!"

For the moment I felt myself all stiff with anger at such a manner of

speaking, and then once more a great pity came on me. What, after all,

does this man, thought I, know of love as God meant it to be?

"Well, well!" he said. "It is of no use speaking. I know that well

enough. And it was that very cousin, I hear, that was Maid to Her

Majesty!"

"Yes, Sir," said I, very short.

I wondered if he would say next that that circumstance made it all the

sadder; but he was not gross enough for that.

"Well," he said, "I will say no more on that point. I am only grieved

that it should have come upon you in my service; and I wish to make

amends. I already owed you a heavy debt, Mr. Mallock; and this has made

it the heavier; and before saying any more I wish to tell you that I am

heartily sorry for my suspicions of you. They were real enough, I am

ashamed to say: I should have known better. But at least I have got rid

of Hoskyns; and he hath gone to the devil altogether, I hear. He had a

cunning way with him, you know, Mr. Mallock."

He spoke almost as if he pleaded; and I was amazed at his condescension.

It is not the way of Kings to ask pardon very often.

"Well, Mr. Mallock," he said next; "and I hear that you wish to leave my

service?"

"If Your Majesty pleases," said I.

"My Majesty doth not please at all; but he will submit, I suppose. Tell

me, sir, why it is that you wish to leave."

"Sir," I said, "the reasons are pretty plain. I have displeased Your

Majesty for the past half-year; and I cannot forget that, even though,

Sir, you are graciously pleased to compliment me now. Then I have

quarrelled with my Cousin Jermyn, so that I have not a kinsman left in

England; and--and I have lost her whom I was to make my wife this year.

Finally, if more reasons are wanting, I am weary of a world in which I

have failed so greatly; and I must go back again to the cloister, if

they will have me there."

All came with a rush when I began to speak, for His Majesty's presence

had always an extraordinary effect upon me, as upon so many others. I

had determined to say very little; yet here I had said it all, and I

felt the blood in my face. He listened very patiently to me, with his

head a little on one side, and his underlip thrust out, and his great

melancholy eyes searching my face.

"Well! well! well," he said again, "if you must be a monk there is no

more to be said. But what of your apostleship in the world?"

"Sir," I cried--for I knew what he meant--"my apostleship as you name

it has been a greater disaster than all the rest: and God knows that is

great enough."

He was silent a full half minute, I should think, still looking on me

earnestly.

"Are you so sure of that?" said he.

My heart gave a leap; but he held up his hand before I could speak.

"Wait, sir," he said. "I will tell you this. You have said very little

to me; but I vow to you that what you have said I have remembered. It is

not argument that a man needs--at least after the first--but example.

That you have given me."

Then I flushed up scarlet; for I was sure he was mocking me.

"Sir," I cried, "you might have spared--"

He lifted his eyes a little.

"I assure you, Mr. Mallock," he said, "that I mean what I say. You have

been very faithful; you have ventured your life again and again for me;

you have refused rewards, except the very smallest; you have lost even

your sweetheart in my service; and now, when all is within your reach

again, you fling it back at me. It is not very gracious; but it is very

Christian, as I understand Christianity."

I said nothing. What was there to say? I seemed a very poor Christian to

myself.

"Come! come, Mr. Mallock," pursued the King very gently and kindly.

"Think of it once again. You shall have what you please--your Viscounty

or anything else of that sort; and you shall keep your lodgings and

remain here as my friend. What do you say to that?"

For a moment again I hesitated; for it is not to everyone that a King

offers his friendship. If it had been that alone I think I might have

yielded, for I knew that I loved this man in spite of all his wickedness

and his treatment of me--for that, and for my "apostleship" as he called

it, I might have stayed. But at the word _Viscounty_ all turned to

bitterness: I remembered my childish dreams and the sweetness of them,

and the sweetness of my dear love who was to have shared them; and all

turned to bitterness and vanity.

"No, Sir," said I--and I felt my lips tremble. "No, Sir. I will be

ungracious and--and Christian to the end. I am resolved to go; and

nothing in this world shall keep me from it."

The King stood up abruptly; and I rose with him. I did not know whether

he were angry or not; and I did not greatly care. He stepped away from

me, and began to walk up and down. One of his bitch-spaniels whined at

him from her basket, lifting her great liquid eyes that were not unlike

his own; and he stooped and caressed her for a moment. Then the clocks

began to chime, one after the other, for it was eight o'clock, and I

heard them at it, too, in the bed-chamber beyond. There would be thirty

or forty of them, I daresay, in the two chambers. So for a minute or two

he went up and down; and I have but to close my eyes now, to see him

again. He was limping a little from the sore on his heel; but he carried

himself very kingly, his swarthy face looking straight before him, and

his lips pursed. I think that indeed he was a little angry, but that he

was resolved not to shew it.

Suddenly he wheeled on me, and held out his hand.

"Well, Mr. Mallock; there is no more to be said; and I must honour you

for it whatever else I do. I would that all my servants were as

disinterested."

I knelt to kiss his hand. I think I could not have spoken at that

moment. As I stood up, he spoke again.

"When do you leave town?" he said.

"On Tuesday, Sir."

"Well, come and see me again before you go. No, not in private: you need

not fear for that. Come to-morrow night, to the _levée_ after supper."

"I will do so, Sir," said I.

* * * * *

On the following night then, which was Sunday, I presented myself for

the last time, I thought, to His Majesty.

I need not say that half a dozen times since I had left him, my

resolution had faltered; though, it had never broken down. I heard mass

in Weld Street; and there again I wondered whether I had decided

rightly, and again as I burned all my papers after dinner--(for when a

man begins afresh he had best make a clean sweep of the past). I went to

take the air a little, before sunset, in St. James' Park, and from a

good distance saw His Majesty going to feed the ducks, with a dozen

spaniels, I daresay going after him, and a couple of gentlemen with him,

but no guards at all. The King walked much more slowly that day than

was his wont--I suppose because of the sore on his heel. But I did not

go near enough for him to see me; for I would trouble him now no further

than I need. All this time--or at least now and again--I wondered a

little as to whether I was right to go. I will not deny that the

prospect of remaining had a little allurement in it; but it was truly

not more than a little; and as evening fell and my heart went inwards

again, as hearts do when the curtains are drawn, I wondered that it had

been any allurement at all: for my life lay buried in the churchyard of

Hormead Parva, and I had best bury the rest of me in the place where at

least I had a few friends left. After supper, about ten o'clock, I put

on my cloak and went across to the Duchess of Portsmouth's lodgings,

where the _levée_ was held usually on such evenings. My man James went

with me to light me there.

I do not think I have seen a more splendid sight, very often, than that

great gallery, when I came into it that night, passing on my way through

the closet where I had once talked with Her Grace. It was all alight

from end to end with candles in cressets, and on the great round table

at the further end where the company was playing basset, stood tall

candlesticks amidst all the gold. I had not seen this great gallery

before; and it was beyond everything, and far beyond Her Majesty's own

great chamber. If I had thought the closet fine, this was a thousand

times more. There were great French tapestries on the walls, and between

them paintings that had been once Her Majesty's, and those not the worst

of them. The quantity of silver in the room astonished me: there were

whole tables of it, and braziers and sconces and cressets beyond

reckoning; and there were at least five or six chiming clocks that the

King had given to Her Grace; and tall Japanese presses and cabinets of

lacquer which she loved especially.

There was a fire of Scotch coal burning on the hearth, as in His

Majesty's own bedchamber; and on a great silver couch, beside this,

covered with silk tapestry, sat the King, smiling to himself, with two

or three dogs beside him, and Her Grace of Portsmouth on the same

couch. The Duchesses of Cleveland and Mazarin were on chairs very near

the couch.

There was a great clamour of voices from the basset-table as I came in

and the King looked up; and, as I went across to pay my respects to His

Majesty, he said something to the Duchess, very merrily. She too glanced

up at me; and indeed she was a splendid sight in her silks and in the

jewels she had had from him.

"Why; here is my friend!" said the King, as he put out his hand to me;

and once more the dogs yapped at me from his side. He put his left hand

out over their heads and pressed them down.

"You must not bark at my friend Mr. Mallock," he said. "He is off to be

a holy monk."

For a moment I thought the King was making a mock of me; but it was not

so. He was smiling at me very friendly.

* * * * *

He was in wonderful good humour that evening; and I heard more of his

public talk than ever before; for he made me draw up a stool presently

upon the hearth. Now and again a gentleman came across to be presented

to him; and others came and looked in for a while and away again. There

were constant comings and goings; and once, as a French boy was singing

songs to a spinet, near the door, I saw the serious face of Mr. Evelyn,

with two of his friends, look in upon the scene.

I cannot remember one quarter of all the things that were said. Now the

King was silent, playing with the ears of his dogs and smiling to

himself; now he would say little things that stuck in the memory, God

knows why! For example, he said that he had eaten two goose's eggs for

supper, which shewed what a strong stomach he had; and he described to

us a very fierce duck that had snapped his hand that afternoon in the

park. History is not made of these things; and yet sometimes I think

that it should be; for those be the matters that interest little folk;

and most of us are no more than that. I do not suppose that in all the

world there is one person except myself who knows that His Sacred

Majesty ate two goose's eggs to his supper on that Sunday night.

He spoke presently of his new palace at Winchester that he was

a-building, and that was near finished.

"I shall be very happy this week," said he, "for my building will be all

covered in with lead." (He said the same thing again, later, to my Lord

Ailesbury, who remembered it when it was fulfilled, though in another

manner than the King had meant.)

He talked too of "little Ken," as he named him (who had been made Bishop

last week), and of the story that so many told--(for the King told his

stories several times over when he was in a good humour)--and the way he

told it to-night was this.

"Ah! that little Ken!" said he. "Little black Ken! He is the man to

tell me my sins! Your Grace should hear him"--(added he)--"upon the

Seventh Commandment! And such lessons drawn from Scripture too-from the

Old Testament!"

He looked up sharply and merrily at Her Grace of Portsmouth as he said

this.

"Well; when poor Nell and I went down to Winchester a good while ago,"

he went on, "what must little Ken do but refuse her a lodging! This is a

man to be a Bishop, thought I. And so poor Nell had to sleep where she

could."

Her Grace of Portsmouth looked very glum while this tale was told; for

she hated Mrs. Nelly with all her heart. She flounced a little in her

seat; and one of the dogs barked at her for it.

"First a monk and then a Duchess!" said the King. "Did you ever hear of

the good man of Salisbury who put his hand into my carriage to greet me,

and was bitten for his pains? 'God bless Your Majesty,' said he, 'and

God damn Your Majesty's dogs!'--Eh, Fubbs?"--(for so he called the

Duchess).

So he discoursed this evening, very freely indeed, and there was a

number of men presently behind his couch, listening to what he said. A

great deal of what he said cannot be set down here, for it was

extraordinary indecent as well as profane. Yet there was a wonderful

charm about his manner, and there is no denying it; and in this, I

suppose, lay a great deal of the injury he did to innocent souls, for it

all seemed nothing but merriment and good-humour. His quickness of

conception, his pleasantness of wit, his variety of knowledge, his

tales, his judgment of men--all these were beyond anything that I have

ever met in any other man.

There was silence made every now and then for the French boy to sing

another song; and this singing affected me very deeply, so long as I did

not look at the lad; for he was a silly-looking creature all dressed up

like a doll; but he sang wonderfully clear and sweet, and one of the

King's chapel-gentlemen played for him. His songs were all in French,

and the substance of some of them was scarcely decent; but I had not the

pain of hearing any that I had heard in Hare Street. During the singing

of the last of these songs, near midnight, again that mood fell on me

that all was but a painted show on a stage, and that reality was

somewhere else. The great chamber was pretty hot by now, with the

roaring fire and all the folks, and a kind of steam was in the air, as

it had been in the theatre ten days ago; and the faces were some of them

flushed and some of them pale with the heat. The Duchess of Cleveland

was walking up and down before the fire, with her hands clasped as if

she were restless; for she spoke scarce a word all the evening.

When the song was done the King clapped his hands to applaud and stood

up; and all stood with him.

"Odd's fish!" said he, "that is a pretty boy and a pretty song." Then he

gave a great yawn. "It is time to go to bed," said he.

As he said that the door from the outer gallery opened; and I saw my

Lord Ailesbury there--a young man, very languid and handsome who was

Gentleman of the Bed chamber this week, though his turn ended to-morrow;

and behind him Sir Thomas Killigrew who was Groom--(these two slept in

the King's bedchamber all night)--and two or three pages, one of them

of the Backstairs. My Lord Ailesbury carried a tall silver candlestick

in his hand with the candle burning in it. He bowed to His Majesty.

"Did I not say so?" said the king.

He did not give his hand to anyone when he said good-night, but turned

and bowed a little to the company about him on the hearth, and they back

to him, the three duchesses curtseying very low. But to me he gave his

hand to kiss.

"Good-night, Mr. Mallock," said he, in a loud voice; then, raising it--

"Mr. Mallock goes abroad to-morrow; or is it Tuesday?"

"It is Tuesday, Sir," said I.

"Then God go with you," he said very kindly.

I watched him go out to the door with his hat on, all the other

gentlemen uncovered and bowing to him, and him nodding and smiling in

very good humour, though still limping a little. And my heart seemed to

go with him. At the door however he stopped; for a strange thing had

happened. As my Lord Ailesbury had given the candle to the page who was

to go before them, it had suddenly gone out, though there was no draught

to blow it. The page looked very startled and afraid, and shook his head

a little. Then one of the gentlemen sprang forward and took a candle

from one of the cressets to light the other with. His Majesty stood

smiling while this was done; but he said nothing. When it was lighted,

he turned again, and waved his hand to the company. Then he went out

after his gentlemen.

CHAPTER VIII

It was a little after eight o'clock next morning that I heard first of

His Majesty's seizure.

I had drunk my morning and was on the point of going out with my

man--indeed I was descending the stairs--when I heard steps run past in

the gallery outside; and then another man also running. I came out as he

went past and saw that he was one of Mr. Chiffinch's men, very

disordered-looking and excited. I cried out to know what was the matter,

but he shook his head and flapped his hand at me as if he could not

stay, and immediately turned off from the gallery and ran out to the

right in the direction of the King's lodgings.

I turned to my man James who was just behind me.

"Go and see what the matter is," I said; for after seeing the King so

well and cheerful last night, I never thought of any illness.

While he was gone, I waited just within my door, observing one of my

engravings, with my hat on. It was a very bitter morning. In less than

five minutes James was back again, very white and breathing fast.

"His Majesty is ill," said he. "Mr. Chiffinch--"

I heard no more, for I ran out past him at a great pace, and so to the

King's lodgings.

* * * * *

When I came to the door of them, all was in confusion. There was but one

guard here--(for the other was within with the Earl of Craven)--and a

little crowd was pestering him with questions. I made no bones with him,

but slipped in, and ran upstairs as fast as I could. There was no one in

the first antechamber at all, and the door was open into the private

closet beyond. It was contrary to all etiquette to enter this unbidden,

but I cared nothing for that, and ran through; and this again was empty;

so I passed out at the further door and found myself at the head of a

little stair leading down into a wide lobby, from which opened out two

or three chambers, with the King's bedchamber at the further end. And

here, in the lobby, I ran into the company.

There was above a dozen persons there, at least, all talking together in

low voices; but I saw no one I cared to speak with, since I had no

business in the place at all. But no one paid any attention to me. It

was yet pretty dark here, for there were no candles; so I waited,

leaning against the wall at the head of the stairs.

Then the voices grew louder; and the crowd opened out a little to let

someone through; and there came, walking very quickly, and talking

together, my Lord Craven leaning on the arm of my Lord Ailesbury. My

Lord Craven--near ninety years old at this time--was in his full-dress

as colonel of the foot-guards, for he had attended a few minutes before

to receive from His Majesty the pass-word of the day: and my Lord

Ailesbury was but half dressed with his points hanging loose; for he had

been all undressed just now, when the King had been taken ill.

After they had passed by me I stood again to wait; but, almost

immediately, across the further end of the lobby I saw Mr. Chiffinch

pass swiftly from a door on the left to a door on the right. At that

sight I determined to wait no longer: for there was but one thought in

my mind, all this while.

I said nothing, but I came down the stairs and laid my hand on the

shoulder of a physician (I think he was), who stood in front of me, and

pushed him aside, as if I had a right to be there; and so I went through

them very quickly, and into the room where I had seen Mr. Chiffinch go.

The door was ajar: I pushed it open and went in.

It was a pretty small room, and there were no beds in it; it had presses

round the walls: a coal fire burned in the hearth in a brazier, and a

round table was in the midst, lit by a single candle, and near the

candle stood a heap of surgical instruments and a roll of bandages.

(This was the room, I learned later, next to the Royal Bedchamber, where

the surgeons had attended half an hour ago to dress the King's heel.)

There were three persons in the room beyond the table, talking very

earnestly together. Two of them I did not know; but the third was Mr.

Chiffinch. They all three turned when I came in, and stared at me.

"Why--" began the page--"Mr. Mallock, what do you--"

He came towards me with an air of impatience.

"Mr. Chiffinch," said I, in a low voice--"how is His Majesty. I--"

The further door which stood at the head of three or four steps leading

up to it opened sharply, and the page whisked round to see what it was.

A face looked out, very peaked-looking and white, and nodded briskly at

the bandages and the instruments; the two other men darted at those,

seized them, ran up the stairs and vanished, leaving the door but a

crack open behind them.

Then Mr. Chiffinch turned and stared at me again. He appeared very pale

and agitated.

"Mr. Chiffinch," said I, "I will take no refusal at all. How is His

Majesty?"

His lips worked a little, and I could see that he was thinking more of

what was passing in the chamber beyond than of my presence here.

"They are blooding him again," he said; and then--"What are you doing

here?"

I took him by the lapel of his coat to make him attend to me; for his

eyes were wandering back like a mule's, at every sound behind.

"See here," said I. "If His Majesty is ill, it is time to send for a

priest. I tell you--"

"Priest!" snapped the page in a whisper. "What the devil--"

I shook him gently by his coat.

"Mr. Chiffinch; I will have the truth. Is the King dying?"

"No, he is not then!" he whispered angrily. "Hark--"

He tore himself free, darted back to the further door, and stood there,

at the foot of the stairs, with his head lowered, listening. Even from

where I was I could hear a gentle sort of sound as of moaning or very

heavy breathing, and then a sharp whisper or two; and then the noise of

something trickling into a basin. Presently all was quiet again; and the

page lifted his head. I stood where I was; for I know how it is with men

in a sudden anxiety: they will snap and snarl, and then all at once turn

confidential. I was not disappointed.

After he had waited a moment or two he came towards me once more.

"Mr. Mallock," he whispered, "the King needs no priest. He is not so ill

as that; and he is unconscious too at present."

"Tell me," I said.

Again he glanced behind him; but there was no further sound. He came a

little nearer.

"His Majesty was taken with a fit soon after he awakened. Mr. King was

here, by good fortune, and blooded him at once. Now they are blooding

him again. Her Majesty hath been sent for."

"He is not dying? You will swear that to me?"

He nodded: and again he appeared to listen. I took him by his button

again.

"Mr. Chiffinch," said I, "you must attend to me. This is the very thing

I have waited for. If there is any imminent danger you must send for a

priest. You promise me that?"

He shook his head violently: so I tried another attack.

"Well," I said, "then you will allow me to remain here? Is the Duke

come?"

"Not yet," said he. "Ailesbury is gone for him."

"Well--I may remain then?"

There came a knock on the inner side of the further door; and he tore

himself free again. But I was after him, and seized him once more.

"I may remain?"

"Yes, yes," he snapped, "as you will! Let me go, sir." He whisked

himself out of my hold, and went swiftly up the stairs and through the

door, shutting it behind him, giving me but the smallest glimpse of a

vast candle-lit room and men's heads all together and the curtains of a

great bed near the door. But I was content: I had got my way.

* * * * *

As I walked up and down the antechamber, very softly, on tip-toe, it

appeared to me that I was, as it were, two persons in one. On the one

side there was the conviction and the determination that, come what

would, I must get a priest to the King if he took a turn at all for the

worse--since, for the present, I believed Mr. Chiffinch's word that His

Majesty was not actually dying. (This was not at all what the physicians

thought at that time; but I did not know that.) This conviction, I

suppose, had always been with me that it was for this that in God's

Providence I had been sent to England; at least, seven in the moment

that I had left my house and run down the gallery, there it was, all

full-formed and mature. As to how it was to be done I had no idea at

all; yet that it would be done I had no doubt. On the other side,

however, every faculty of observation that I had, was alert and

tight-stretched. I remember the very pattern of the carpet I walked on;

the pictures on the walls; and the carving on the presses. Above all I

remember the little door in the corner of the chamber--the third; and

how I opened it, and peeped down the winding staircase that led from it.

(I did not know then what part that little door and winding staircase

was to play in my great design!) Now and again I looked out of the

single window at the river beneath in the early morning sunshine; now I

paced the floor again. It seemed to me that I had found a very pretty

post of observation, as this appeared a very private little room, and

that I should not be troubled here. The great anterooms, I knew, where

the company would be, must lie on the further side of the bedchamber.

I suppose it would be about five minutes after Mr. Chiffinch had left me

that Her Majesty came. The first I knew of it was a great murmur of

voices and footsteps without the door. I went to the door and pulled it

a little open so that I could see without being seen, and looked up the

lobby beyond the King's chamber; for in that direction, I knew, lay Her

Majesty's apartments. A couple of pages came first, very hastily, with

rods; and then immediately after them Her Majesty herself, hurrying as

fast as she could, scarce decently dressed, with a cloak flung over all,

with a hood. Behind her came two or three of her ladies. I saw the poor

woman's face very plain for a moment, since there was no one between me

and her; and even at that distance I could see her miserable agitation;

her brown face was all sallow and her mouth hung open. Then she whisked

after the pages through the door into the great antechamber that lay

beyond the bedroom. I went back again, to shut the door and listen at

the other; for I knew that the King's bed was close to it (though he was

not in it at this time, but still in the barber's chair where he had

been blooded); and presently I heard the poor soul begin to wail aloud.

I heard voices too, as if soothing her, for all the physicians were

there, and half a dozen others; but the wailing grew, as she saw, I

suppose, in what condition His Majesty was--(for he still seemed all

unconscious)--till she began to shriek. That was a terrible sound, for

she laughed and sobbed too, all at once, in a kind of fit. I could hear

the tone very plain through the door, though I could not hear what she

said; and the voices of Mr. King and others who endeavoured to quiet

her. Gradually the wailing and shrieking grew less as they forced her

away and out again; till I heard it, as she went back again to her own

apartments, die away in spasms. Poor soul indeed! she was nothing

accounted of in that Court, yet she loved the King very dearly in spite

of his neglect towards her. She could not even speak to him (I heard

afterwards), though he had spoken her name and asked for her, after his

first blooding.

* * * * *

Half an hour later--(in the meantime no one had come in to me, and I

could only walk up and down and listen as well as I could)--I heard

again the murmur of voices in the lobby, and steps coming swiftly down

from the private closet. Again I was in time at the door to see who it

was that went by; and it was the Duke of York, with my Lord Ailesbury

who had gone to fetch him from St. James'. He went by me so near that I

could hear his quick breathing from his run upstairs; and he had come in

such a hurry that he had only one shoe on, and on the other foot a

slipper. He went very near at a run up the lobby, and up a step or two,

and into the great antechamber and so round to the Bedchamber; and I

presently heard him enter it. Indeed I was very favourably placed for

observing all that went on.

* * * * *

It was about eleven o'clock, as I suppose, when I first heard His

Majesty's voice; and the relief of it to me was extraordinary.

I had ventured up the stair or two that led from this room into the

Bedchamber, and had, very delicately, opened the door a crack so as to

hear more plainly; but I dared not look through for fear that I should

be seen.

For a long while I had heard nothing but whispers; and once the yapping

of a little dog, very sharp and startling, but the noise was stifled

almost immediately, and the dog, I suppose, taken out at the other door.

Once or twice too had come the sudden chiming of all the clocks that

were in the Bedchamber.

I heard first a great groan from the bed, to which by now they had moved

him from the chair, and then Ailesbury's name spoken in a very broken

voice. (My own heart beat so loud when I heard that, that I could scarce

listen to what followed.)

"Yes, Sir," came Ailesbury's voice; and then a broken murmur again. (He

was thanking him, I heard afterwards from Mr. Chiffinch, for his

affection to him, and for having caused him to be bled so promptly by

Mr. King, and for having sent Chiffinch to him to bring him back from

his private closet.)

Presently he grew stronger; and I could hear what he said.

"I went there," he said, "for the King's Drops.... I felt very ailing

when I rose.... I walked about there; but felt no better. I nearly fell

from giddiness as I came down again."

He spoke very slowly, but strongly enough; and he gave a great sigh at

the end.

Presently he spoke again.

"Why, brother," he said. "So there you are."

I heard the Duke's voice answer him, but so brokenly and confusedly that

I could hear no words.

"No, no," said His Majesty, "I do very well now."

* * * * *

I came down the stairs again, shaking all over. I cannot say how

affected I was to hear his voice again; and I think there could scarce

be a man in the place any less affected. He was a man who compelled love

in an extraordinary fashion. I felt that if he died I could bear no more

at all.

I was walking up and down again very softly, when the door into the

Bedchamber was noiselessly pulled open, and Mr. Chiffinch came down the

stairs. That dreadful look of tightness and pain was gone from his face:

he was almost smiling. He nodded at me, very cheerful.

"He is better. The King's Majesty is much better," he whispered. Then

his face twitched with emotion; and I saw that he was very near crying.

I was not far from it myself.

CHAPTER IX

How the hours of that day went by I scarcely know at all. I went back to

dine in my lodgings, and to counter-order all preparations for my going

on the morrow, so soon as I knew that His Majesty was out of any

immediate danger; for I could not find it in my heart to leave town

until he was altogether recovered. In the afternoon, before going back

to inquire how he was, I walked a good while in the court and the Privy

Garden, though the day was very raw and cold.

Whitehall had been put as in a state of siege from the first moment that

the King's illness was known. The gates were closed to all but those who

had lodgings in the Palace, and those who were allowed special entry by

His Royal Highness. The sentries everywhere were greatly augmented; both

horse and foot were placed at every entrance; and the greatest

strictness was observed that no letter should pass out either to His

Grace of Monmouth or to the Prince of Orange: even M. Barillon had but

permission to send one letter to the French King as to His Majesty's

state. All this was to hinder any rising or invasion that might be made

either within or without the kingdom. I was in the court when the

couriers rode out with despatches to the Lords Lieutenant of the

Counties with advices as to what to do should His Majesty die; and I was

there too when the deputies came from the Lord Mayor and Aldermen and

Lieutenants of the City to inquire for the King and to assure His Royal

Highness of their loyalty and support. This was of the greatest

satisfaction to the Duke; for I suppose that he did not feel very

secure.

A little before supper I went round to Mr. Chiffinch's; and, by the

greatest good fortune found him on the point of returning to His

Majesty's lodgings. He gave me an excellent account as we went together.

"The physicians declare," said he, "that His Majesty is out of danger:

and bath permitted the Duke to tell the foreign ministers so. They have

had another consultation on him; and have prescribed God knows what!

Cowslip and Sal of Ammoniac, sneezing mixtures, plasters for his feet;

and he is to have broth and ale to his supper. They are determined to

catch hold of his disorder somehow, if not by one thing then by another.

To tell the truth I think they know not at all what is the matter with

him. They have taken near thirty ounces of blood from him too, to-day.

If the King were not a giant for health he would have died of his

remedies, I think!"

He talked so; but he was in very cheerful spirits; and before he left me

at the door of the lodgings I had got an order from him to admit me

everywhere within reason. It was something of a surprise to me to see

how dearly this man--whose name was so evil spoken of, and, I fear with

good cause enough--yet loved his master.

* * * * *

On Tuesday morning I was up again very early, and round at His Majesty's

lodgings. I went up by the other way and into the great antechamber; and

there I met with one of the physicians who was just come from the

consultation that twelve of them had held together. He was a very

communicative fellow and told me that six of them had been with His

Majesty all night, and that His Majesty had slept pretty well; and

that--to encourage him, I suppose!--ten more ounces of blood had been

taken from his neck. He was proceeding to speak of some new

remedies--and mentioned an anti-spasmodic julep of Black Cherry Water

that had been prescribed, when another put out his head and called to

him from the Bedchamber; and he went away back into it with an important

air.

All that day too I never left Whitehall. There were great crowds in all

the streets and outside the gates, I heard, but their demeanour was very

quiet and sorrowful; and prayers were said all day long in the churches.

When I went back to the antechamber in the evening I saw my Lord Bishop

of Ely there, and heard from one of the pages that he was to spend that

night in His Majesty's room. So I gathered from that that the physicians

were not very confident even yet, though couriers had been sent out

again to-day to bear the news of the King's happy recovery; and I was,

besides, in two minds, when I saw the Bishop there, as to what I should

do about a Catholic priest. If I had seen His Royal Highness then, I

think I should have said something to him upon it; but the Duke was in

the Bedchamber; and there I dared not yet penetrate.

* * * * *

On the Wednesday morning, when I went early to inquire, I heard that

again His Majesty had slept well, and that the physicians were well

satisfied; I saw no one but a man of Mr. Chiffinch's, who told me that;

and that Dr. Ken, my Lord Bishop of Bath and Wells, was with the King;

and I went away content: but when I went back again, for the third time

that day, just before supper-time, I saw from the faces in the

antechamber that all was not so well. Yet I could get nothing out of

anyone, and did not wish to press too hard lest I should be turned out

altogether. I saw my friend of yesterday, whose name I have never yet

learned, hurrying across the end of the chamber into another little room

where the physicians had their consultations--(it was, I think, my Lord

Ailesbury's dressing-room)--but I was not in time to catch him; so I

went away again in some little dismay, yet not greatly alarmed even now.

The Bishop, I thought, could at least do him no great harm.

On the Thursday morning, before I was dressed, my man brought me the

_London Gazette_ that had been printed about six o'clock the evening

before. The announcement as to the King's health ran as follows. (I cut

out the passage then and there and put it in my diary.)

* * * * *

"At the Council Chamber, Whitehall, the 4th of February, 1684 [1685 N.

S.], at five in the afternoon.

"The Lords of His Majesty's most Honourable Privy Council have thought

fit, for preventing false reports, I make known that His Majesty, upon

Monday morning last, was seized with a violent fit that gave great

cause to fear the issue of it; but after some hours an amendment

appeared, which with the blessing of God being improved by the

application of proper and seasonable remedies, is now so advanced, that

the physicians have this day as well as yesterday given this account to

the Council, viz.--That they conceive His Majesty to be in a condition

of safety, and that he will in a few days be freed from his distemper.

"JOHN NICHOLAS."

Yes, thought I, that is all very well; but what of yesterday after five

o'clock, and what of this morning?

* * * * *

As I went to His Majesty's lodgings an hour afterwards I heard the bells

from the churches beginning to peal, to call the folks to give thanks;

yet the faces within the Palace were very different. When I went up into

the great antechamber, the physicians were just dispersing; and, by good

fortune I was at hand when my Lord Keeper North questioned Sir Charles

Scarburgh as he went back to His Majesty's chamber.

"Well?" said he, very short. "What do you say to-day?"

"My Lord!" said Sir Charles, "we conclude that His Majesty hath an

intermittent fever."

"And what the devil of that?" asked my Lord. "Could anything be worse?"

(There was a little group round them by now; and I could see one of the

Bishops listening a little way off.)

"My Lord," said the other, "at least we know now what to do."

"And what is that?" snapped my Lord who seemed in a very ill humour.

"To give the Cortex, my Lord," said Sir Charles with great dignity; for

indeed the manner of my Lord was most insolent.

My Lord grunted at that.

"Peruvian Bark, my Lord," said the physician, as if speaking to a child.

Well; there was no more to be got that morning. I was in and out for a

little, again in two minds as to what to do. His Royal Highness went

through the antechamber at one time (to meet M. Barillon, as I saw

presently, and conduct him to the King's chamber), a little before

dinner, but at such a quickness, and with such sorrow in his face that I

dared not speak to him. I went back to dinner; and fell asleep

afterwards in my chair, so greatly was I wearied out with anxiety; and

did not wake till near four o'clock. Then, thank God! I did awake; and,

with all speed went again to His Majesty's lodgings; and this time,

guided, I suppose, by Divine Providence, for I had no clear intention in

what I did, I went up the private way, through the King's closet where I

found no one, down the steps, and so into the little chamber where I had

talked with Mr. Chiffinch on the first morning of His Majesty's

distemper.

The chamber was empty; but immediately after I had entered--first

knocking, and getting no answer--who should come through, his face all

distorted with sorrow, but Mr. Chiffinch himself! There was but one

candle on the table, but by its light, I saw how it was with him.

I went up immediately, and took him by the arms; he stared at me like a

terrified child.

"My friend," said I, "I must have no further delay. You must take me to

His Majesty."

He shook his head violently; but he could not speak. As for me, all my

resolution rose up as never before.

I gripped him tighter.

"I ask but five minutes," I said. "But that I must have!"

"I--I cannot," said he, very low.

I let go of him, and went straight towards the steps that led up into

His Majesty's room. As I reached the foot of them, he had seized my arm

from behind.

"Where are you going?" he whispered sharply. "That is the way to the

King's room."

I turned and looked at him.

"Yes," I said very slowly, "I know that."

"Well--well, you cannot," he stammered.

"Then you must take me," I said.

He still stared at me as if either he or I were mad. Then, of a sudden

his face changed; and he nodded. I could see how distraught he was, and

unsettled.

"I will take you," he whispered, "I will take you, Mr. Mallock. For

God's sake, Mr. Mallock--"

He went up the steps before me, in his soft shoes; and I went after, as

quietly as I could. As he put his hand on the handle he turned again.

"For Christ's sake!" he whispered in a terrible soft voice. "For

Christ's sake! It must be but five minutes. I am sent to fetch the

Bishops, Mr. Mallock."

He opened the door a little, and peered in. I could see nothing, so dark

was the chamber within--but the candles at the further end and a few

faces far away. A great curtain, as a wall, shut off all view to my

left.

"Quick, Mr. Mallock," he whispered, turning back to me. "This side of

the bed is clear. Go in quick; he is turned on this side. I will fetch

you out this way again."

He was his own man again, swift and prompt and steady. As for me, the

beating of my heart made me near sick. Then I felt myself pushed within

the chamber; and heard the door close softly behind me.

* * * * *

At first I could see nothing on this side, as I had been staring over

the candle just now, except a group of persons at the further end of the

great room, and among them the white of a Bishop's rochet; and the

candlelight and firelight on the roof. The clocks were all chiming four

as I came in, and drowned, I suppose, the sounds of my coming.

Then, almost immediately I saw that the curtains were drawn back on this

side of the great bed that stood in this end of the room, and that they

were partly drawn forward on the other side, so as to shroud from the

candlelight him who lay within them, and beneath the Royal Arms of

England emblazoned on the state.

And then I saw him.

He was lying over on this side of the bed, propped on high pillows, but

leaning all over, and breathing loudly. His left, arm was flung over the

coverlet; and his fingers contracted and opened and contracted again. I

went forward swiftly and noiselessly, threw myself on my knees, laid my

hand softly beneath his, and kissed it.

"Eh? eh?" murmured the heavy voice. "Who is it?"

I saw the curtain on the other side pulled a little, and the face of Sir

Charles Scarburgh all in shadow peer in: it looked very lean and sharp

and high-browed. The King flapped his hand in a gesture of dismissal,

and the face vanished again.

"Sir," whispered I, very earnestly, yet so low that I think none but he

could have heard me. "Sir: it is Roger Mallock--"

"Mallock," repeated the voice; yet so low that it could not have been

understood by any but me. His face was very near to me; and it was

shockingly lined and patched, and the eyes terribly hollow and languid:

but there was intelligence in them.

"Sir," said I, "you spoke to me once of an apostleship."

"So I did," murmured the voice. "So I--"

"Sir: I am come to fulfill it. It is not too late. Sir; the Bishops are

sent for. Have nothing to say to them! Sir, let me get you a true

priest--For Christ's sake!"

The cold fingers that I yet held, twitched and pressed on mine. I was

sure that he understood.

He drew a long breath.

"And what of poor little Ken?" he murmured. "Poor little Ken: he will

break his heart--if he may not say his prayers."

"Let him say what he will, Sir. But no sacrament! Let me send for a

priest!"

There was a long silence. He sighed once or twice. His fingers all the

while twitched in mine, pressing on them, and opening again. Ah! how I

prayed in my heart; to Mary conceived without sin to pray for this poor

soul that had such a load on him. The minutes were passing. I thought,

maybe, he was unconscious again. And the Bishops, if they were in the

Palace, might be here at any instant, and all undone. I am not ashamed

to say that I entreated even my own dear love to pray for us. She had

laid down her life in his service and mine. Might it not be, thought I,

even in this agony, that by God's permission, she were near to help me?

He stirred again at last.

"Going to be a monk," said he, "going to be a monk, Roger Mallock. Pray

for me, Roger Mallock, when you be a monk."

"Sir--"

He went on as if he had not heard me.

"Yes," murmured he. "A very good idea. But you will never do it. Go to

Fubbs, Roger Mallock. Fubbs will do it."

"For a priest, Sir?" whispered I, scarcely able to believe that he

meant it.

"Yes," he murmured again, "for a priest. Yes: for God's sake. Fubbs will

do it. Fubbs is always--"

His voice trailed off into silence once more; and his fingers relaxed.

At the same instant I heard the door open softly behind, and, turning, I

saw the page's face again, lean and anxious, peering in at me. Then his

finger appeared in the line of light, beckoning.

I kissed the loose cold fingers once again; rose up and went out on

tip-toe.

CHAPTER X

Then began for me the most amazing adventure of all. My adventures had

indeed been very surprising--some of them; and my last I had thought to

be the greatest of all, and the most heart-breaking, in the yard of the

Theatre Royal. I had thought that that had drained the last energy from

me and that I had no desires left except of the peace of the cloister

and death itself. Yet after my words with the King and his to me, there

awakened that in me which I had thought already dead--a fierce

overmastering ambition to accomplish one more task that was the greatest

of them all and to get salvation to the man who had again and again

flouted and neglected me, whom yet I loved as I had never yet loved any

man. As I went to and fro, as I shall now relate, until I saw him again,

there went with me the vision of him and of his fallen death-stricken

face there in the shadow of the great bed; and there went with me too, I

think, the eager presence of my own love, near as warm as in life.

"What shall we do next? What shall we do next, Dolly?" I caught myself

murmuring more than once as I ran here and there; and I had almost sworn

that she whispered back to me, and that her breath was in my hair.

* * * * *

Within five minutes of my having left the King's bedchamber, I was

running up the stairs to Her Grace of Portsmouth's lodgings. I had said

scarce a word to Mr. Chiffinch when I came out into the little anteroom,

except that I was sent on a message by His Majesty; and he stared on me

as if I were mad. Then I was out again by the private way, through the

closet and the rooms beyond, and down the staircase.

At the door of Her Grace's lodgings there stood a sentry who lowered his

pike as I came up, to bar my way.

"Out of the way, man!" I cried at him. "I am on His Majesty's business."

He too stared on me, and faltered, lifting his pike a little. All were

distraught by the news that was run like fire about the place that the

King was dying, or he would never have let me through. But I was past

him before he could change his mind again, and through a compile of

antechambers in one of which a page started up to know my business, but

I was past him as if he were no more than a shadow.

Then I was in the great gallery, where I had sat with the King and his

company but four days ago.

* * * * *

It presented a very different appearance now. Then it had been all

ablaze with lights and merry with laughter and music. Now it was lit by

but a pair of candles over the hearth and, the glow of a dying fire.

Overhead the high roof glimmered into darkness, and the gorgeous

furniture was no more than dimness. I stopped short on the threshold,

bewildered at the gloom, thinking that the chamber was empty; then I saw

that a woman had raised herself from the great couch on which the King

had lolled with his little dogs last Sunday night, and was staring at me

like a ghost.

At that sight I ran forward and kneeled down on one knee.

"Madame," I said in French, "His Majesty hath sent me--"

At that she was up, and had me by the shoulders. Her face was ghastly,

all slobbered over with crying, and her eyes sunken and her lips pale as

wax. God knows what she was dressed in; for I do not.

"His Majesty," she cried, "His Majesty! He is not dead! For the love of

God--"

I stood up; she still gripped me like a fury.

"No, Madame," said I, "His Majesty is not dead. He hath sent me. I spoke

with him not five minutes ago. But he is very near death."

"He hath sent for me! He hath sent for me!" she screamed, as if in

mingled joy and terror.

"No, Madame; but he hath sent to you. His Majesty desires you to get him

a priest."

Her hands relaxed and fell to her side. I do not know what she thought.

I do not judge her. But I thought that she hesitated. I fell on my knees

again; and seized her hand. I would have kneeled to the Devil, if he

could have helped me then.

"Madame--for the love of Christ do as the King asks! He desires a

priest. For the love of Christ, Madame!"

She was still silent for an instant, staring down on me. Then she tore

her hand free, and I thought she would refuse me. But she caught me

again by the shoulders.

"Stand up, sir; stand up. I--I will do whatever the King desires. But

what can I do? God! there is someone coming!"

There came very plainly, through the antechambers I had just run

through, the tramp of feet. I stood, as in a paralysis, not knowing what

to do next. Then she seized on me again as the steps came near.

"Stand back," she said, "stand back, sir. I must see--"

There came a knocking on the door as I sprang back away from the hearth,

and stood out of the firelight. Then the door opened, as Her Grace made

no answer, and the page whom I had seen just now stood bowing upon the

threshold.

"Madame," said he. "M. Barillon, the French ambassador--"

She made a swift gesture, and he fell back. There was a pause; and then,

through the door came M. Barillon, very upright and lean, walking

quickly, all alone. He stopped short when he saw Her Grace, put his

heels together and bowed very low.

She was at him in an instant.

"Monsieur!" she cried. "Yon are come in the very nick of time. How is

His Majesty?"

He said nothing as he walked with her towards the hearth. She stood,

waiting, with her hands clasped, and a face of extraordinary anguish.

"Madame," he said, "there is very bad news. I am come on behalf of His

Majesty King Louis--"

"Sh!" she hissed at him, with a quick gesture to where I stood. He had

not observed me. He straightened himself, as he saw me, and then bowed a

little.

The Duchess went on with extraordinary rapidity, still talking in

French.

"This is Mr. Mallock," said she, "Mr. Mallock--but just now come from

His Majesty. He brings me very grave news. Monsieur Barillon, you will

help us, will you not? You will help us, surely?"

All her anguish had passed into an extraordinary pleading: she was as a

child begging for life.

"Madame--" began the ambassador.

"Ah! listen, Monsieur, the king desires a priest. He is a Catholic at

heart, you know. He hath been a Catholic at heart a long time, ever

since--" she broke off. "You will help us, will you not, Monsieur?"

He threw out his hands: but she paid no attention.

"Monsieur, I swear to you that it is so. Yet what can I do? I cannot go

to him, with decency. The Queen is there continually, I hear. The Duke

is taken up with a thousand affairs and does not think of it. Go to the

Duke, I entreat you, Monsieur l'Ambassadeur; go to the Duke and tell him

what I say. Mr. Mallock shall go with you. He is a friend of the Duke.

He will bear me out. Monsieur, for the love of God lose no time. Come

and see me again; but go now, or it may be too late. Monsieur, I entreat

you."

She had seized him by the arm as she spoke. Even his rigid face twitched

a little at the violence of her pleading. I knew well what was in his

mind, and how he wondered whether he dared do as she asked him. God knew

what complications might follow!

"Monsieur--"

He nodded suddenly and sharply.

"Madame," said he, "I will go. Mr. Mallock--"

He bowed to me.

"Ah! God bless you, sir--"

He stooped suddenly to her hand, lifted it and kissed it. I think in

that moment something of the compassion of the Saviour Himself fell on

him for this poor woman who yet might be forgiven much, for indeed,

under all her foolishness and sin, she loved very ardently. Then he

wheeled and went out of the room again; and I followed. No sound came

from the Duchess as we left her there in the half lit twilight. She was

standing with her hands clasped, staring after us as we went out.

* * * * *

He said nothing as we passed again through the anterooms and down the

stairs. Then, as we went on through the next gallery he spoke to me. His

men were a good way behind us, and another in front.

"Mr. Mallock," said he--(for he had known me well enough in

France)--"His Majesty told you this himself?"

"Yes, sir," said I, "not a quarter of an hour ago."

"Then the Duke is our only chance," he said.

He said no more till we came to the great antechamber by the King's

bedroom. It was half full of people; but the Duke was nowhere to be

seen. I waited by the door as M. Barillon went forward and spoke to

someone. Then he came back to me.

"The Duke is with the Queen," he said. "We must go to him there."

It was enough to send a man mad so to seek person after person in such a

simple matter as this. Why in God's name, I wondered, might not even a

King die in what religion he liked, without all this plotting and

conspiring? Was I never to be free from these things?

At the door to the Queen's apartments M. Barillon turned to me.

"You had best wait here, sir," he said. "I will speak with the Duke

privately first."

He was admitted instantly so soon as he knocked; and went through

leaving me in a little gallery.

* * * * *

Of all that went through my mind as I walked up and down, with a page

watching me from the door, I can give no account at all. Again one half

of my attention was fixed, though with out any coherency, on the

business I was at; the other half observed the carpet under my feet,

the cabinets along the wall, and the pictures. It was not near as

splendid as were the rooms I had left so short a while ago.

I had not to wait long. There was a sudden talking of voices beyond the

door that the Ambassador had just passed through; and I heard the Duke's

tones very plain. Then the page stiffened to attention, the door was

flung open suddenly, and the Duke came out alone at a great pace,

leaving the door open behind him. He never saw me at all. The page

darted after him, and the two disappeared together round the corner in

the direction of the King's rooms. As soon as they were gone, M.

Barillon came out and beckoned to me; and together we went up and down

the gallery.

"You are perfectly right, sir," he said. "His Royal Highness shewed

great sorrow for not leaving thought of it. He is gone instantly to His

Majesty."

"He will fetch a priest?"

"He will speak to His Majesty first. He will find out, at least, what he

thinks."

"But, good God!" said I. "His Majesty hath told me himself what he

wishes."

"You must let His Royal Highness do it in his own way," he said. "He

must not be pushed. But I think you have done the trick, Mr. Mallock."

"How is Her Majesty?" I asked abruptly.

"The physicians have been at her too," he said dryly. "She had a

fainting-fit just now in His Majesty's presence; and they have been

blooding her."

"What priest can be got?" I asked next.

He made a gesture towards the chamber he had just come out of.

"There is a pack of them in there," he said, "next to Her Majesty's

private closet. They have been praying all day in the oratory."

* * * * *

It was fallen dark by now; for it was long after five o'clock; and there

were no candles lighted here. We went up and down a good while longer,

for the most part in silence, speaking of this and that; and I will not

deny that we talked a little of French affairs, though God knows I was

in no heart for that, and answered very indifferently. It appeared to me

extraordinary that a man could think of such little things as the

affairs of kingdoms when an immortal soul was at stake.

A little before six o'clock, when at last the servants brought lights,

the Ambassador left me again to go in to see the Queen, leaving me to

watch for the Duke; and I had not very long to wait, for soon after I

had heard a clock chime the hour, His Royal Highness came again, walking

very quickly as before; and, when he saw me waiting there, beckoned me

to follow him. We went through two or three rooms, all lighted up and

empty--the Duke sending a page to fetch M. Barillon out of the Queen's

private closet where he was talking with her--into a little chamber

that looked out upon the court, where there was a fire lighted. We had

hardly got there before the Ambassador came, all in haste, to hear what

had been done.

"I have spoken with His Majesty," said the Duke, looking very white and

drawn in the face. "He is in most excellent dispositions. He tells me

that he hath put off the Bishops and has not received the sacrament from

them and will not."

"And what of a priest, Sir?" asked the Ambassador sharply.

"I did not speak to him of that," answered the Duke so pompously that I

raged to hear him. "He said that Dr. Ken hath read prayers over him, and

told him that he need make no confession unless he willed; and that he

willed not, and did not; but that Dr. Ken read an absolution over him

which he values not at a straw."

"Sir," said I, very boldly, "this is very pretty talk; but it is not a

priest. His Majesty wishes for a priest; he told me so himself."

The Duke turned on me very hotly.

"Eh, sir?"

I made haste to swallow down my wrath.

"Sir," I said, "I did not mean to be discourteous. But I assure Your

Royal Highness that the King said so to me expressly. It is his immortal

soul that is at stake."

Then I understood what was the matter. The Duke flung out his hands as

if in despair.

"But what can I do?" he cried. "I am watched every instant. They will

not leave me alone with him. Dr. Ken eyed me very sharply. They suspect

something--I know they do--from my brother's having refused their

ministrations. How can I get a priest to him?"

Then again, by God's inspiration as I truly believe, a thought came to

me.

"Sir," I said, "I myself spoke with the King a while ago: and I do not

think that a soul saw who I was. I came through the little door at the

back of the bed. Why should not--"

The Ambassador struck his hands together.

"_Bon Dieu_!" he said. "I believe Mr. Mallock hath hit it again."

The Duke turned and eyed me very sternly.

"Well, sir, what is your plan?"

"Sir," I said, "let the chamber be cleared, or almost. Then let M.

Barillon here go in as if he had a message from the French King. While

he is there let a priest be brought by the back way, not through the

antechamber at all--"

M. Barillon held up his hand.

"There would not be time," he said. "It does not take half an hour to

deliver a message; and the priest's business would take full half an

hour?"

"No! no!" cried James. "They would suspect something. Let Her Majesty

come again to take her leave of the King; and then I will go in after

for the same thing. While we are there, let the priest come, as Mr.

Mallock has said--"

"Sir," said the Ambassador, "we must not have too many folks in this

business--"

All this bargaining drove me near mad. Once more I broke in; and this

time with more effect.

"Sir," I said to the Duke, "I entreat you to hear me. There is the

little room at the back of His Majesty's bed, all ready, and empty too.

We do not need all these devices. If you, Sir, will go to the King and

prepare him for it, I will find a priest and bring him up the other way.

I do not believe that even if there were folks in the bedchamber they

would hear what passed."

"Which way would the priest come?" asked the Duke.

"There is a little stair in the corner of the room--"

"God! There is," cried the Duke. "I had forgotten it."

We stared on one another in silence. My mind raced like a mill. Then

once more the Duke near ruined the whole design by his diplomacy.

"Gentlemen," he said, "we are too precipitate. His Majesty hath not yet

told me that he wishes for a priest--"

"Sir--" I began in desperation.

He looked at me so fiercely that I stopped.

"Listen to me," said he very imperiously. "I will have it my own way. M.

Barillon, do you come with me now to His Majesty. I will bid the company

withdraw into the antechamber--Bishops and all--on the pretext that I

wish to consult with my brother privately. M. Barillon shall be in the

doorway that none may come through. Mr. Mallock shall be with the

company and hear what they say. Then, if the King wishes for a priest,

we will consult again here, and see if Mr. Mallock's plan is a possible

one."

He strode towards the door. There was no more to be said. It was a

dreadful risk that we ran in so long delaying; but there was no

gainsaying James when he had made up his mind.

* * * * *

The great antechamber was near full of folks of all kinds when we three

came to it again. They fell back as they saw the Duke; and he passed

straight through, as was arranged, with M. Barillon, leaving me behind,

near the door. The King's bedchamber was pretty dark, and I could see no

more of the bed at the far distant end than its curtains.

Presently I heard the Duke in a low voice saying something to the

company that was within: and immediately they began to come out, three

or four Bishops, among them, my Lord Halifax, Lord Keeper North, and my

Lord Craven; I noticed that M. Barillon was very careful to let all in

the antechamber have a clear view of the bed, at which, by now the Duke

was kneeling down, having drawn back the curtains a little, yet not so

much as to shew us the King lying there.

Round about me they talked very little, though I saw the Bishops

whispering together. The two brothers spoke together, very low, for ten

minutes or a quarter of an hour; and I could hear the murmur of the

Duke's voice. Of His Majesty's I heard nothing except that twice he

said, very clear:

"Yes.... Yes, with all my heart."

And I thanked God when I heard that.

* * * * *

Yet, even so, all was not yet done.

So soon as I saw the Duke stand up again from his kneeling, and coming

down the chamber, I slipped away to the door that leads out towards Her

Majesty's apartments, that I might be ready for him. I saw him come

through, all the people standing and bowing to him, and M. Barillon

following him; and I noticed in particular a young gentleman whose name

I did not know at that time--(it was the Comte de Castelmelhor, a very

good Catholic)--standing out, a little by himself. I noticed this man

because I saw that the Duke looked at him as he came and presently

signed to him very slightly, with his head, to follow. So all four of us

passed through the door into the long gallery that unites their

Majesties' apartments and found ourselves alone in it. The Count was a

little behind.

"He has consented," said the Duke in a low voice, "to my bringing him a

priest. We must send for one. But I dare not bring one of the Duchess':

they are too well-known."

"Sir," said Monsieur Barillon, "I will do so with pleasure. Why not one

of Her Majesty's priests?"

The Duke nodded. We three were all standing together about the middle of

the gallery. The Comte de Castelmelhor was halted, uncovered, a little

behind us. The Duke turned to him.

"Count," said he, speaking in French, "we are on a very urgent business.

His Majesty hath consented that a priest should come to him. Will you

go for us to the Queen and ask for one of her chaplains?"

The young man flushed up with pleasure.

"With all my heart, Sir," he said. "Which priest shall I ask for? Is

there one that can speak English?"

The Duke struck his forehead with his open hand.

"Lord!" he said. "I never thought of that. We must have an Englishman.

Where shall we send?"

"Sir," said the Ambassador; "there is one at least at the Venetian

Resident's."

Again I broke in. (My impatience drove me near mad. Time was passing

quickly. I could have fetched a priest myself ten times over if the Duke

had but allowed me to go in the beginning.)

"Sir," said I, "for God's sake let me go first to Her Majesty's

apartments. I'll be bound there's one at least there that knows English.

Let this gentleman come with me."

The Duke stared at me as if bewildered. I think he saw that he had done

little but hinder the business, so far.

"Go," he said suddenly. "Go both of you together--Stay. Bring a priest

with you, if you can find one, to the little room behind the King's bed;

but bring him up the stairs the other way. Bid him stay till I send

Chiffinch to him."

Then we were gone at full speed.

CHAPTER XI

It was eight o'clock at night; and the priest and I were still waiting

in the little room; and no word was come through from the Bedchamber,

beyond that Mr. Chiffinch had come through once to bid us be ready.

* * * * *

Once again God had favoured us in spite of all our blunders. The Count

and I had run together through to Her Majesty's lodging and there we had

found, as I knew we should, a priest that knew English. But I had not

thought that God's Hand should be so visible in the matter as that we

should find none other but Mr. Huddleston himself, the Scotsman, that

had saved the King's life after the battle of Worcester. There was a

very particular seemliness in this--though I had not much time to think

of it then. But our difficulties were not all over.

First, Mr. Huddleston declared that he had never reconciled a convert in

his life; and did not know how to set about it. Next he said that he was

the worst man in the world to do it, as his face was very well known,

and that he would surely be suspected if he were seen: and third that

the Most Holy Sacrament was not in Whitehall at all, and that therefore

he could not give _Viaticum._ He looked very agitated, in spite of his

ruddy face.

I was amazed at the man; but I forced myself to treat him with patience,

for he was the only priest we could get.

First I told him that nothing was needed but to hear the King's

confession, give him absolution and anoint him: next, that we would

disguise him in a great periwig and a gown, such as the Protestant

Divines wore--(for, as I spoke, I actually spied such a gown hanging on

the wall of the chamber in which I was speaking with him). Third, that

another priest could go to St. James' and bring the Most Holy Sacrament

to him from there.

At that point Father Bento de Lemoz, who was listening to our talk,

came forward and interposed. He would get a little Ritual directly, he

said (in very poor English)--that had in it all that was necessary: and

he would go himself, not to St. James', for that was too far off, but to

Somerset House, and get the Holy Sacrament from the royal chapel there.

Mr. Huddleston had nothing to say to that; and in five minutes we had

him in his periwig and gown, with the book in his pocket, with the holy

oils, and away downstairs, and along the passage beneath, and up again

by the little winding stair into the chamber beyond the King's bed. I

gave him no time to think of any more objections.

* * * * *

That was a very strange vigil that we held for very near, I should

think, twenty minutes or half an hour. We both sat there together

without speaking. For the most of the time Mr. Huddleston was reading in

his Ritual, and I could see his brow furrowed and his lips moving, as be

conned over all that he would have to do and say to His Majesty. He was

a man, as he had said, completely unaccustomed to such ministrations,

though he was a very good man and a good priest too, in other matters.

After a while he laid aside his book, and prayed, I think, for he

covered his face with his hands.

* * * * *

A minute or two later I could bear the delay no longer. I rose and went

up the three or four steps that led to the King's Bedchamber, and

listened. There was a low murmur of voices within; so that it seemed to

me that the room was not yet cleared. I put my hand upon the door and

pushed it a little; and to my satisfaction it was not latched, but

opened an inch or two. But someone was standing immediately on the other

side of it. I stepped back, and the door opened again just enough for me

to see the face of Mr. Chiffinch. He looked past me quickly to see that

the priest was there, I suppose, and then nodded at me two or three

times. Then he pushed the door almost to, again. A moment after I heard

the Duke's voice within, a little unsteady, but very clear and distinct.

He was standing up, I think, on the far side of the bed.

"Gentlemen," he said, "the King wishes all to retire excepting the

Earls of Bath and Feversham."

(Bath and Feversham! thought I. Why those two, in God's name, that were

such a pair of Protestants? But, indeed, it was the one good stroke that

the Duke made, for the names reassured, as I heard afterwards, all that

had any suspicions, and even the Bishops themselves.)

There was a rustle of footsteps, very plain, that followed the Duke's

words. I turned to the room behind me, again, and saw that Mr.

Huddleston too had heard what had passed. He was standing up, very pale

and agitated, with the book clasped in his hands. I moved down the steps

again so as not to block the way; and again there followed a silence, in

the midst of which I heard a door latched somewhere in the Bedchamber.

Then, suddenly, the door opened at the head of the stairs; and the Duke

stood there, he too as pale as death. He nodded once, very emphatically,

and disappeared again. Then the priest went by me without a word, up the

steps and so through. The door, as before, remained a crack open. I went

up to it, and put my eye to the crack.

On the left was the end of the bed, with the curtains drawn across it;

and beyond the bed I could see the whole room down to the end, for the

candles were burning everywhere, as well as the fire. I could see the

great table before the hearth, the physician's instruments and bottles

and cupping-glasses upon it, the chairs about it; the tall furniture

against the walls, and at least half a dozen clocks, whose ticking was

very plain in the silence. Three figures only were visible there. That

nearest, standing very rigid by the table, was Mr. Chiffinch: of the two

beyond I could recognize only my Lord Bath whose face looked this way:

the other I supposed to be my Lord Feversham. The Duke was not within

sight. He was kneeling, I suppose, out of my sight, beyond the bed.

Then I heard His Majesty's voice very plain, though very weak and slow.

"Ah!" said he, "you that saved my body is now come to save my soul."

There was the murmur of the priest's voice in answer. (The two of them

were not more than three or four yards away from me, at the most.) Then

again I heard the King, very clear and continuous, though still weak,

and not so loud as he had first spoken.

"Yes," said he, "I desire to die in the Faith and Communion of the Holy

Roman Catholic Church. I am sorry with all my heart that I have deferred

it for so long; and for all my sins."

(He said it quite distinctly, as if he had rehearsed it beforehand.)

Then the priest and he spoke together--the King repeating the priest's

words sometimes, and sometimes volunteering word or two of his own.

He said that through Christ's Passion he hoped to be saved; that he was

in charity with all the world; that he pardoned his enemies most

heartily, and desired pardon of all whom he had offended; that if God

would yet spare him, he would amend his life in every particular.

All that I heard with my own ears, and with inexpressible comfort. His

Majesty's voice was low, but very distinct, though sometimes he spoke

scarce above a whisper; and I do not think that any man who heard him

could doubt his sincerity--however late it was to shew it. But he was

not altogether too late, thank God!

* * * * *

So soon as His Majesty began his confession, after Mr. Huddleston's

moving him to it, I slipped away from the door and began, as softly as I

could to walk up and down the little chamber again. I was satisfied

beyond measure: yet it seemed to me sometimes near incredible that I

should in very truth, be here at such a time, and that I should have

been, under God's merciful Providence, the instrument in such an affair.

My life was ended, I knew well enough now, in all matters that the world

counts life to consist of; yet was there ever such an ending? I had seen

all else go from me--my natural activities of every kind, my ambitions,

even the most sacred thing that the world can give, after the Love of

God, and that is the love of a woman! Yet the one purely supernatural

end that I had set before me--that end to which, four days ago, I had

said, as I thought, good-bye for ever in the Duchess of Portsmouth's

gallery--this was the one single thing that was mine after all. I could

take that at least with me into the cloister, and could praise God for

it all my life long--I mean the conversion of the man that was called

King of England, the man who, for all his sins and his treatment of me,

I yet loved as I have never loved any other man on earth. I think that

in those minutes of sorrow and joy as I paced up and down the little

room, my dearest Dolly was not very far away from me and that she knew

all that I felt.

Once--in a loud broken voice through the door--I heard these words:

--"Sweet Jesus. Amen.... Mercy, Sweet Jesus, Mercy!"

That was the King's voice that I heard: and I kneeled down when I heard

them.

* * * * *

It would be about ten minutes later, as I still kneeled, that I heard,

upon the outside of the door that led down the winding stairs, a very

small tapping.

I ran to the door to open it, wondering who it could be; for I had

forgotten all about the Portuguese priest, though I had set the candles

ready burning, with a napkin on the table between them, in readiness for

his coming. And there he stood, with his eyes cast down, and his hands

clasped upon his breast.

I beckoned him forward, pointing to the table, and kneeled down again.

He went past me without a word, kneeled himself before the table and

then, unbuttoning his cloak he drew from round his neck the chain and

the Pyx from his breast, and laid it all upon the table, continuing

himself to kneel.

Presently he turned and looked at me, lifting his brows.

I knew what he wished; rose from my knees and went up the stairs, but

very cautiously, lest I should hear anything that I should not. There

was but a very faint murmur of the priest's voice, so I took courage and

pushed the door a little open so that I could see the King.

It was very dark within the curtains, for they were drawn against the

candlelight; but I could see what was passing. His Majesty was lying

flat upon his back, with his hands clasped beneath his chin, and Mr.

Huddleston was in the very act of arranging the coverlet over him again,

after the last Anointing. As I looked the priest turned and caught my

eyes, as he put the oil-stock and the wool away again in his cassock

breast. I nodded three times very emphatically--(His Majesty did not see

me at all, for his eyes were closed)--and went back again down the

stairs and kneeled once more. A few moments later Mr. Huddleston came

through.

I have never seen so swift a change in any man's face. He had been

terrified as he had gone in--all pale and shaking. Now he was still

pale, but his eyes shone, and there was a look of great assurance in his

face. He came straight down the steps without speaking, kneeled, rose

again, took up the Pyx and the corporal which Father de Lemoz had spread

beneath it, and passed up and out again. His priesthood, I suppose, had

risen in him like a great tide, and driven out all other emotions.

* * * * *

Again I followed him to the door, and kneeled there where I could see;

and then there followed such a scene as I had never dreamed of.

The curtains on the other side of the bed had been drawn back just

enough to admit the face of the Duke who now kneeled there, yet not so

much that any of the three others at the further end of the chamber

could see into the bed. The candlelight streamed in through the opening

above the Duke's head; and in it, I saw His Majesty, all weak as he was,

striving to rise, with his eyes fixed on That which the priest was

holding in his right hand. I saw the priest's left hand go out to

restrain him; but I heard the King's voice distinctly.

"Father," he said very brokenly, "let me receive my Heavenly Saviour in

a better posture than lying on my bed."

"Sir," said Mr. Huddleston with great firmness, "lie down again, if you

please. God Almighty who sees your heart will accept your good

intention."

(But neither of them spoke loud enough to be heard at the further end of

the great chamber.)

And so he was persuaded to lie down again.

Then the priest repeated again, still holding the Blessed Sacrament

before the King's eyes, the Act of Contrition of which I had heard a

word or two a while ago; and His Majesty repeated it after him, word for

word, very devoutly.

Then, as the time was short Mr. Huddleston omitted several of the proper

prayers, and proceeded at once to the Communion, saying but the _Agnus

Dei_ three times, and then communicating him immediately. With my own

eyes I saw that holy act which sealed all and admitted the dying man to

sacramental union with his God. His eyes were closed throughout; and

when it was done he lay as still as a stone, his poor wasted face all

dark against the white pillows. I caught a glimpse too of the Duke: his

face was bowed in his hands, and he was weeping so that his shoulders

shook with it.

Presently the priest was reading again as well as he could in a very low

whisper the prayers for the Recommendation of a Departing Soul, down to

the very end. His Majesty lay motionless throughout. At the end he

opened his eyes.

"Father," he whispered, "the Act of Contrition once more, if you please.

I have sinned, I have sinned very--" He could speak no more for

weeping.

Then, once more, very slowly and tenderly, the priest repeated it; down

to _Mercy, Sweet Jesus, Mercy!_ My own eyes were all dim with tears, and

as fast as I brushed them away, they came again. When at last I could

see plainly once more, the priest was holding up a little crucifix

before the King's eyes; and he made him a short address, very Christian

and forcible. I remember near every word of it, as he said it.

"Lift up the eyes of your soul, Sir," he said, "and represent to

yourself your sweet Saviour here crucified, bowing down His Head to kiss

you; His Arms stretched out to embrace you; His Body and members all

bloody and pale with death to redeem you. Beseech Him, Sir, with all

humility that His most Precious Blood may not be shed in vain for you;

and that it will please Him, by the merits of His bitter Death and

Passion, to pardon and forgive you all your offences; and, finally, to

receive your soul into His Blessed Hands; and, when it shall please Him

to take it out of this transitory world, to grant you a joyful

resurrection, and an eternal crown of glory in the next."

He bent lower, making a great sign of the cross with his right

hand--(and the King too tried to bless himself in response).

"In the Name," said he, "of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy

Ghost. Amen."

* * * * *

One more joy and sorrow all in one was yet to be mine before the end. As

I opened the door for the priest to come back, His Majesty lifted his

eyes and saw me there; and I perceived that he recognized me. The Duke

had already risen up and gone down the room to bid them, I suppose, to

open the door and let the folks in again. Then, as the King's eyes met

my own he made a sign with his head that I should come near. I think

that if the chamber had been filled with but one mob of priest-hunters

and Protestants, I should have obeyed him then, even though I should

have been torn to pieces the next instant.

I went forward without a word, leaving the door open behind me, and

flung myself on my knees at the bedside.

His Majesty was too weary to speak, but, as I kneeled there, with my

face in my hands on the bedclothes, and my tears raining down, he lifted

his right hand and put it on my head, leaving it there for an instant.

It was all he could do to thank me; and I value that blessing from him,

a penitent sinner as he was, with the Body of our Saviour still in his

breast, as much as any blessing I have ever had from any man, priest or

bishop or Pope.

As he lifted his hand off again, I caught at it, and kissed it three or

four times, careless whether or no my tears poured down upon it.

* * * * *

As I passed back again through the door to where Mr. Huddleston was

waiting for me, I heard the doors at the further end of the chamber

unlatched and the footsteps of the folks--physicians, courtiers, Bishops

and the rest--that poured in to see the end.

EPILOGUE

I have said again and again how strange this or that moment or incident

appeared to me as I experienced it; yet as I sit here now in my cell,

thirty years later, looking out upon the cloister-garth with its twisted

columns, and the cypresses and the grass, it is not so much this or that

thing that appears to me strange, but the whole of my experiences and

indeed human life altogether. For what can be more extraordinary than a

life which began as mine did, when I first went to England in sixteen

hundred and seventy-eight, should be ending as mine will end presently,

if God will, as a monk of St. Paul's-Without-the-Walls, in Holy Rome? To

what purpose, I ask myself, was that part of my life designed by Divine

Providence? For what did I labour so long, when all was to come to

nothing? For what was I to learn the passion of human love; if but to

lose it again? For what was I to intrigue and spy and labour and

adventure my life, for the cause of England and the Catholic Church,

when all a year or two later was to fall back, and further than it had

ever fallen before, into the darkness of heresy? There is but one effort

in all those years of which I saw the fruition, and that was the

conversion of my master upon his deathbed.

However, I have not yet related what passed after I had gone from the

King again, and took Mr. Huddleston downstairs. I will relate that very

shortly; and make an end. I had it all from Mr. Chiffinch before I left

London.

* * * * *

His Majesty, after we were gone from him, rallied a little, in so far as

to make some think that he would recover altogether; but the physicians

said No; and they were right for near the first time in all their

diagnosis of his state. But they continued to give him their remedies of

Sal Ammoniac and Peruvian Bark, and later the Oriental Bezoar Stone,

which is a pebble, I understand, taken from the stomach of a goat. Also

they blooded him again, twelve ounces more, and all to no purpose.

His Majesty said a number of things that night that were very

characteristic of him; for God gave him back his gift of merriment, now

that he had the Gift of Faith as well: and he shewed a great tenderness

too from time to time and a very Christian appreciation of his own

condition.

For example, he said that he was suffering very much, but he thanked God

for it and that he was able to bear it with patience, as indeed he did.

Two or three times however he seemed to sigh for death to come quickly;

and once he looked round with his old laughter at the solemn faces round

his bed, and begged their pardon that he was "such an unconscionable

time in dying." "My work in this world seems over," he said--"such as it

has been. I pray God I may be at a better occupation presently."

He thanked His Royal Highness the Duke of York (who was by his bed all

that night, weeping and kissing his hand repeatedly) for all his

attention and love for him, and asked his pardon for any hardship that

had been done to his brother, through his fault. He gave him his clothes

and his keys; telling him that all was now his; and that he prayed God

to give him a prosperous reign.

To Her Majesty who came to see him again about midnight, he shewed the

tenderest consideration and love: but the Queen, who swooned again and

again at the sight of him, and had to be carried back to her apartments,

sent him a message later begging his pardon for any offence that she had

ever done to him.

"What!" whispered the King. "What! She beg my pardon, poor woman! Rather

I beg hers with all my heart. Carry that message back to Her Majesty."

No less than twice did the King commend the Duchess of Portsmouth to the

Duke's care--poor "Fubbs" as he had called her to me. Some blamed him

for thinking of her at all at such a time; as also for bidding his

brother "not to let poor Nell starve"; but for myself I cannot

understand such blame at all. If ever there were two poor souls who

needed care and forgiveness it was those two women, Mrs. Nell and Her

Grace.

All his natural sons were there--all except the Duke of Monmouth whose

name never passed his lips from the beginning of his sickness to the

end--and these too he recommended to his brother--the three sons of the

Duchess of Cleveland, and the rest. I do not wonder that he left out His

Grace of Monmouth: it seems to me very near prophetical of what was to

fall presently, when the Duke was to revolt against his new Sovereign

and suffer the last penalty for it, at his hands. But His Majesty

blessed all the rest of his children one by one, drawing them down to

him upon the bed--they weeping aloud, as I heard.

A very strange scene followed this. One of the Bishops fell down upon

his knees, and begged him, who was the "Lord's Anointed"--(and anointed

too, lately, in a fashion the Bishop never dreamed of!)--to bless all

that were there, since they were all his children, and all his subjects

too. The Bedchamber was now full from end to end; and all the company

fell together upon their knees. His Majesty, raising himself in bed,

first begged the pardon of all in a loud voice for anything in which he

had acted contrary to the interests of his country or the principles of

good government; and then, still in a loud voice, pronounced a blessing

on them all. Then he fell back again upon his pillows.

So that night went slowly by. The dogs were still in the room, whining

from time to time, as Mr. Chiffinch told me afterwards--(for it was

thought better that I myself, as one so deeply involved in what had

lately passed should not be present)--and one of the little dogs sought

repeatedly to leap upon the bed, but was prevented; and at last was

carried away, crying. Again and again first one Bishop and then another

begged him to receive the sacrament; but he would not: so they prayed by

him instead, which was all they could do.

At about six o'clock, when dawn came, he begged that the curtains of his

bed might be drawn back yet further, and the windows opened, that he

might see daylight again and breathe the fresh air: and this was done.

Then, at the chiming of the hour by the clocks in the room, he

remembered that one of them, which was an eight-day one, should be wound

up, for it was a Friday on which it was always wound. And this too was

done.

At seven o'clock breathlessness came on him again, and he was compelled

to sit up in bed, with his brother's arm about him on one side, and a

physician's upon the other. They blooded him again, to twelve ounces

more, which I suppose took his last remnant of strength from him; for in

spite of their remedies, he sank very rapidly; and about half-past eight

lost all power of speech. He kept his consciousness, however, moving his

eyes and shewing that he understood what was said to him till ten

o'clock; and then he became unconscious altogether.

At a little before noon, without a struggle or agony of any kind, His

Sacred Majesty ceased to breathe.

Of all that followed, there is no need that I should write; for I

remained in England only till after the funeral in Westminster

Abbey--which was very poorly done--eight days later; and I left on the

Sunday morning, for Dover, after being present first, for a remembrance,

at the first mass celebrated publicly in England, with open doors, in

the presence of the Sovereign, since over a hundred and thirty years. I

had audience with King James on the night before, when I went to take my

leave of him; and he renewed to me the offer of the Viscounty, of which

I think Mr. Chiffinch had spoken to him. But I refused it as courteously

as I could, telling him that I was for Rome and the cloister.

All the rest, however, is known by others better than by myself; and the

events that followed. His Majesty shewed himself as he had always

been--courageous, obstinate, well-intentioned and entirely without

understanding. He was profuse in his promises of religious equality; but

slow to observe them. He shewed ruthlessness where he should have shewn

tenderness, and tenderness where he should have shewn ruthlessness. So,

once more, all our labours went for nothing; and William came in; and

the Catholic cause vanished clean out of England until it shall please

God to bring it back again.

So here I sit near sixty years old, a monk of the Order of Saint Benet,

in my cell at St. Paul's-Without-the-Walls. I have been Novice Master

three times; but I shall never be more than that; for governmental

affairs and I have said farewell to one another a long while ago. It was

through my telling of my adventures to my Novices at recreation-time

that the writing of them down came about; for my Lord Abbot heard of

them, and put me under obedience to write them down. He did this when he

heard one of my Novices name me to another as Father Viscount! I have

written them, then, down all in full, leaving nothing out except the

French affairs on which I was put under oath by His Majesty never to

reveal anything: I have left out not even the tale of my Cousin Dolly;

for I hold that in such a love as was ours there is nothing that a monk

need be ashamed of. I will venture even further than that, and will say

that I am a better monk than I should have been without it; and as one

last piece of rashness I will say that amongst "those good things which

God hath prepared for them that love Him" in that world which is beyond

this (if I ever come at it by His Grace), will be, I think, the look on

my Cousin Dolly's face when I see her again.

Of other personages whose acquaintance I made in England--excepting

always His Majesty, and my master, Charles the Second--I neither speak

nor think very much now. My Cousin Tom died of an apoplexy three years

after I left England, and God knows who hath Hare Street House to-day!

His Majesty James the Second, as all the world knows, made a most

excellent end of it in France, dying as he had never lived till after

his coming to France, a very humble and Christian soul. In regard to Mr.

Chiffinch, I think of him sometimes and wonder what kind of an end he

made. He was very reprobate while I knew him; yet he had the gift of

fidelity, and that, I think, must count for something before God who

gave it him. Of the ladies of the Court I know nothing at all, nor how

they fared nor how they ended, nor even if they are all dead yet--I mean

such ladies as was Her Grace of Portsmouth.

But all of them I commend to God every day in my mass living or dead;

and trust that all may have found the mercy of God, or may yet find it.

But most of all I remember at the altar the names of two persons, than

between whom there could be no greater difference in this world--the

names of Dorothy Mary Jermyn, the least of all sinners; and of Charles

Stuart, King of England, the greatest of all sinners, yet a penitent

one. For these are the two whom I have loved as I can never love any

others.