MORE THAN A PASSING FANCY
1
I would that You, fair Mistress, had seen the Lady Barbara Wychwoode as
I beheld her on that never-to-be-forgotten afternoon, her Cheeks of a
delicate pallor, her golden Hair slightly disarranged, her Lips
trembling with excitement. You, who are so inexpressibly beautiful,
would have been generous enough to give ungrudging Admiration to what
was so passing fair.
She was panting a little, for obviously she had been scared, and clung
to her Brother as if for protection. But I noticed that directly she
entered the room her Eyes encountered those of my Lord Stour, and that
at sight of him a happy smile at once over-spread and illumined her
Face.
"I am so thankful, Douglas, dear," she said, "that Pyncheon happened to
know you were here. He also knew the way to Mr. Baggs' house, and as
soon as he realized that the crowd in Fleet Street was no ordinary one,
he literally took to his heels and brought me along here in amazingly
quick time. But, oh!" she added lightly, "I can tell You that I was
scared. My heart went thumping and I have not yet recovered my breath."
Her cheeks now had become suffused with a blush and her blue eyes
sparkled, more with excitement than fear, I imagined. Certain it is
that her Beauty was enhanced thereby. But Lord Douglas, with a
Brother's privilege, shrugged his shoulders and said with a show of
banter:
"Methinks, Babs, dear, that your heart hath chiefly gone a-thumping
because you are surprised at finding Stour here."
She gave a gay little laugh--the laugh of one who is sure of Love and of
Happiness; the same laugh, dear Mistress, for which I have hearkened of
late in vain from You.
"I only arrived in London this morning," my Lord Stour explained.
"And hastened to pay your respects to the law rather than to me," Lady
Barbara taunted him lightly.
"I would not have ventured to present myself at this hour," he rejoined.
"And, apparently, would have found the Lady Barbara from home."
"So a beneficent Fairy whispered to You to go and see Mr. Notary, and
thus arranged everything for the best."
"The beneficent Fairy had her work cut out, then," Lord Douglas
remarked, somewhat impatiently, I thought.
"How do you mean?" she retorted.
"Why," said he, "in order to secure this tryst, the beneficient Fairy
had first to bring me hither as well as Stour, and Lady Castlemaine to
the India House. Then she had to inflame the temper of a whole Crowd of
Roisterers sufficiently to cause the worthy Pyncheon to take to his
heels, with you in the chair. In fact, the good Fairy must have been to
endless trouble to arrange this meeting 'twixt Lady Barbara and her
Lover, when but a few hours later that same meeting would have come
about quite naturally."
"Nay, then!" she riposted with perfect good humour, "let us call it a
happy Coincidence, and say no more about it."
Even then her Brother uttered an angry exclamation. He appeared
irritated by the placidity and good humour of the others. His nerves
were evidently on edge, and while my Lord Stour, with the egoism
peculiar to Lovers, became absorbed in whispering sweet nothings in Lady
Barbara's ears, Lord Douglas took to pacing up and down the Room like
some impatient Animal.
I watched the three of them with ever-growing interest. Being very
sensitive to outward influences, I was suddenly obsessed with the
feeling that through some means or other these three Persons, so far
above me in station, would somehow become intermixed with my Life, and
that it had suddenly become my Duty to watch them and to listen to what
they were saying.
I had no desire to pry upon them, of course; so I pray You do not
misunderstand nor condemn me for thus remaining hidden behind the screen
and for not betraying my Presence to them all. Certainly my Lord Stour
and Lord Douglas Wychwoode had known at one time that I was in the Room.
They had seen me installed in the window-recess, with the treasonable
Manifestos which I had been set to copy. But since then the two
Gentlemen had obviously become wholly oblivious of my Presence, and the
Lady Barbara did not of course even know of my Existence, whilst I did
not feel disposed to reveal myself to any of them just yet.
2
Lord Douglas, thereafter, was for braving the Rioters and for returning
home. But Lady Barbara and Lord Stour, feeling happy in one another's
Company, were quite content to bide for a time under Mr. Baggs'
sheltering roof.
"You must have patience, Douglas," she said to her Brother. "I assure
you that the Streets are not safe. Some rowdy Folk have set themselves
to attacking every chair they see and tearing the gold and silver lace
from the Chairmen's liveries. Even the side-streets are thronged.
Pyncheon will tell you of the difficulty he had in bringing me here."
"But we cannot wait until night!" Lord Douglas urged impatiently.
"No!" said she. "Only an hour or two. As soon as the people have seen
Lady Castlemaine and have vented their wrath on her, they will begin to
disperse, chiefly into the neighbouring Taverns, and then we can slip
quietly away."
"Or else," broke in Lord Stour hotly, "surely the watchmen will come
anon and disperse that rabble ere it vents its spite upon a defenceless
Woman!"
"A defenceless Woman, you call her, my Lord?" Lady Barbara retorted
reproachfully. "She is the most dangerous Enemy England hath at this
moment!"
"You are severe, Lady Barbara----"
"Severe!" she exclaimed, with a vehement tone of resentment. "Ah! you
have been absent, my Lord. You do not know--You do not understand! Over
abroad You did not realise the Misery, the Famine, that is stalking our
land. Money that should be spent on reclaiming our Industries, which
have suffered through twenty years of civil strife, or in helping the
poor to tide over these years of lean Harvests, is being lavished by an
irresponsible Monarch upon a greedy Wanton, who----"
"Barbara!"
She paused, recalled to herself by the stern voice of her Brother. She
had allowed her Indignation to master her maidenly reserve. Her cheeks
were aflame now, her lips quivering with Passion. Of a truth, she was a
Woman to be admired, for, unlike most of her sex, she had profound
feelings of Patriotism and of Charity; she had valour, enthusiasm,
temperament, and was not ashamed to speak what was in her mind. I
watched my Lord Stour while she spoke, and saw how deeply he worshipped
her. Now she encountered his Gaze, and heavy tears came into her Eyes.
"Ah, my Lord," she said gently, "you will see sadder sights in the
Streets of London to-day than ever you did in the Wars after the
fiercest Battles."
"'Tis no use appealing to him, Babs," Lord Douglas interposed with
obvious exacerbation. "A moment ago I told him of our Plans. I begged
him to lend us his sword and his hand to strike a blow at the Profligacy
and Wantonness which is sending England to perdition worse than ever
before----"
Lady Barbara turned great, reproachful eyes on my Lord.
"And you refused?" she whispered.
My Lord looked confused. All at once, I knew that he was already
wavering. A weak Man, perhaps; he was deeply, desperately enamoured. I
gathered that he had not seen the Lady Barbara for some months. No
doubt his Soul hungered for her Smiles. He was the sort of Man,
methinks, who would barter everything--even Honour--for the Woman he
loved. And I do not think that he cared for much beyond that. His
Father, an you remember, fought on the Parliament side. I do not say
that he was one of the Regicides, but he did not raise a finger to help
or to serve his King. And he had been a rigid Protestant. All the
Stourcliffes of Stour were that; and the present Earl's allegiance to
King Charles could only have been very perfunctory. Besides which, this
is the age of Conspiracies and of political Factions. I doubt not but
it will be another twenty years before the Country is really satisfied
with its form of Government. I myself--though God knows I am but a
humble Clerk--could wish that this Popish marriage for the King had not
been decided on. We do not want religious factions warring with one
another again.
But all this is beside the mark, nor would I dwell on it save for my
desire to be, above all, just to these three People who were destined to
do the Man I love best in the world an irreparable injury.
As I said before, I could see that my Lord Stour was hesitating. Now
Lady Barbara invited him to sit beside her upon the Sofa, and she began
talking to him quietly and earnestly, Lord Douglas only putting in a
word or so now and again. What they said hath little to do with the
portent of my Narrative, nor will I plague You with the telling of it.
Those people are nothing to You; they have nothing to do with humble
Plebeians like ourselves; they are a class apart, and we should never
mix ourselves up with them or their affairs, as Mr. Betterton hath since
learned to his hurt.
3
While they were talking together, the three of them, I tried once more
to concentrate my mind upon my work, and finished off another two or
three copies of the treasonable Manifesto.
All this while, you must remember that the noise and rowdiness in the
streets had in no way diminished. Rather had it grown in intensity.
The people whom I watched from time to time and saw darting down
Chancery Lane or across the corner of Fleet Street, looked more excited,
more bent on mischief, than before. I had seen a few stones flying
about, and once or twice heard the ominous crash of broken glass.
Then suddenly there came an immense Cry, which was not unlike the
snarling of hundreds of angry Beasts. I knew what that meant. My Lady
Castlemaine was either on the point of quitting the India House or had
been otherwise spied by the Populace. I could no longer restrain my
Curiosity. Once more I cast my papers aside and leaned out of the
window. The shouting and booing had become more and more ominous.
Apparently, too, a company of the City Watchmen had arrived. They were
trying to force through the throng, and their calls of "Make way there!"
sounded more and more peremptory. But what was a handful of Watchmen
beside an excited crowd of Rioters determined to wreak their temper upon
an unpopular bit of baggage? I doubt not but that His Majesty's
Body-guard could alone restore order now and compass the safety of the
Lady.
As I leaned out of the Window I could see stones and miscellaneous
missiles flying in every direction; and then suddenly I had a clear
vision of a gorgeous Sedan Chair escorted by a dozen or more City
Watchmen, who were trying to forge a way for it through the Crowd. They
were trying to reach the corner of our Street, hoping no doubt to turn
up this way and thus effect an escape by way of the Lower Lincoln's Inn
Fields and Drury Lane, while the Crowd would of necessity be kept back
through the narrowness of the Streets and the intricacies of the Alleys.
The whole point now was whether the Chairmen could reach our corner
before the Roisterers had succeeded in beating back the Watchmen, when
of course they meant to tear Lady Castlemaine out of her chair. Poor,
wretched Woman! She must have been terribly frightened. I know that I
myself felt woefully agitated. Leaning out toward the street, I could
see Lady Barbara's pretty head at the next window and my Lord Stour and
Lord Douglas close beside her. They too had forgotten all about their
talk and their plans and Conspiracies, and were gazing out on the
exciting Spectacle with mixed feelings, I make no doubt. As for me, I
feel quite sure that but for my sense of utter helplessness, I should
have rushed out even then and tried to lend a hand in helping an
unfortunate Woman out of so terrible a Predicament, and I marvelled how
deep must have been the hatred for her, felt by Gentlemen like my Lord
Stour and Lord Douglas Wychwoode, that their Sense of Chivalry forsook
them so completely at this Hour, that neither of them attempted to run
to her aid or even suggested that she should find shelter in this House.
As for Mr. Baggs, he was not merely idly curious; he was delighted at
the idea that my Lady Castlemaine should be maltreated by the mob;
whilst Mistress Euphrosine's one idea was the hope that if the Rioters
meant to murder the Baggage, they would not do so outside this door.
She and Mr. Baggs had come running into the Parlour the moment the
rioting reached its height, and of a truth, dear Mistress, you would
have been amused to see us all at the three front windows of the
house--three groups watching the distant and wildly exciting happenings
in Fleet Street. There was I at one window; Mr. and Mrs. Baggs at the
other; Lady Barbara and the two Gallants at the third. And the
ejaculations which came from one set of Watchers or the other would fill
several pages of my narrative.
Mistress Euphrosine was in abject fear. "Oh! I hope," cried she now and
again, "that they won't come this way. There'll be murder upon our
doorstep!"
My Lord Stour had just one revulsion of feeling in favour of the
unfortunate Castlemaine. "Come, Douglas!" he called at one time.
"Let's to her aid. Remember she is a Woman, after all!"
But Lady Barbara placed a restraining hand upon his arm, and Lord
Douglas said with a rough laugh: "I would not lift a finger to defend
her. Let the Devil befriend her, an he list."
And all the while the mob hissed and hooted, and stones flew like hail
all around the Chaise.
"Oh! they'll murder her! They'll murder her!" called Mistress
Euphrosine piously.
"And save honest men a vast deal of trouble thereby," Mr. Baggs
concluded sententiously.
The Watchmen were now forging ahead. With their sticks and staves they
fought their way through bravely, heading the chair towards our street.
But even so, methought that they stood but little Chance of saving my
Lady Castlemaine in the end. The Crowd had guessed their purpose
already, and were quite ready to give Chase. The Chairmen with their
heavy burden could be no match against them in a Race, and the final
capture of the unfortunate Woman was only now a question of time.
Then suddenly I gave a gasp. Of a truth I could scarce believe in what
I saw. Let me try and put the picture clearly before you, dear
Mistress; for in truth You would have loved to see it as I did then.
About half a dozen Watchmen had by great exertion succeeded in turning
the corner of our Street. They were heading towards us with only a
comparatively small knot of roisterers to contend against, and the
panting, struggling Chairmen with the Sedan Chair were immediately
behind them.
As far as I could see, the Crowd had not expected this Manoeuvre, and
the sudden turning off of their prey at right angles disconcerted the
foremost among them, for the space of a second or two. This gave the
Chairmen a brief start up the street. But the very next moment the Crowd
realized the situation, and with a wild war-cry, turned to give Chase,
when a Man suddenly stepped out from nowhere in particular that I could
see, unless it was from the _Spread Eagle_ tavern, and stood at the
bottom of the street between two posts, all alone, facing the mob.
His Appearance, I imagine, had been so unexpected as well as so sudden,
that the young Roisterers in the front of the Crowd paused--like a Crowd
always will when something totally unexpected doth occur. The Man, of
course, had his back towards us, but I had recognized him, nor was I
surprised that his Appearance did have the effect of checking for an
instant that spirit of Mischief which was animating the throng. Lady
Barbara and the young Gentlemen at the other window were even more
astonished than I at this wholly unforeseen occurrence. They could not
understand the sudden checking of the Rioters and the comparative
silence which fell upon the forefront of their ranks.
"What does it all mean?" my Lord Stour exclaimed.
"A Man between the chair and its pursuers," Lord Douglas said in
amazement.
"Who is it?" queried Lady Barbara.
"Not a Gentleman," rejoined Lord Douglas; "for he would not thus stop to
parley with so foul a mob. Meseems I know the figure," he added, and
leaned still further out of the window, the better to take in the whole
of the amazing scene. "Yes--by gad! ... It is..."
Here Mistress Euphrosine's cry of horror broke in upon us all.
"Alas!" she ejaculated piously. "'Tis that reprobate Brother of mine!"
"So it is!" added Mr. Baggs drily. "'Tis meet he should raise his voice
in defence of that baggage."
"But, who is it?" insisted my Lord Stour impatiently.
"Why, Betterton the Actor," replied Lord Douglas with a laugh. "Do you
not know him?"
"Only from seeing him on the stage," said the other. Then he added: "An
Actor confronting a mob! By gad! the fellow hath pluck!"
"He knows," protested Mr. Baggs acidly, "that the mob will not hurt him.
He hath so oft made them laugh that they look upon him as one of
themselves."
"Listen!" said Lady Barbara. "You can hear him speak quite plainly."
Whereupon they all became silent.
All this, of course, had occurred in far less time than it takes to
describe. Not more than a few seconds had gone by since first I saw Mr.
Betterton step out from Nowhere in particular into the Street. But his
Interposition had given my Lady Castlemaine's Chairmen and also the
Watchmen, who were guarding her, a distinct advance. They were making
the most of the respite by hurrying up our street as fast as they were
able, even while the Crowd--that portion of it that stood nearest to Mr.
Betterton and could hear his Voice--broke into a loud laugh at some
Sally of his which had apparently caught their Fancy.
From the distance the cry was raised: "To the pillory, the Castlemaine!"
It was at this point that my Lady Barbara bade every one to listen, so
that we all could hear Mr. Betterton's rich and powerful Voice quite
plainly.
"Come, come, Friends!" he was saying; "the Lady will get there without
your help some day, I'll warrant. Aye! and further too, an the Devil
gives her her due! Now, now," he continued, when cries and murmurs,
boos and hisses, strove to interrupt him. "You are not going to hiss a
hard-working Actor off the Stage like this. Do, in the name of Sport,
which every sound-minded Englishman loves, after all, await a fitter
opportunity for molesting a defenceless Woman. What say You to
adjourning to the _Spread Eagle_ tavern, where mine Host hath just
opened a new cask of the most delicious beer You have ever tasted?
There's a large room at the back of the bar--You know it. Well! every
one who goes there now--and there's room for three or four hundred of
You--can drink a pint of that beer at my expense. What say You,
Friends? Is it not better than to give chase to a pack of Watchmen and
a pair of liveried Chairmen who are already as scared as rabbits? See!
they are fast disappearing up the street. Come! who will take a pint of
beer at the invitation of Tom Betterton? You know him! Is he not a
jolly, good fellow?..."
Of course, he did not deliver this speech uninterruptedly. It was only
snatches of it that came to our ear. But we Listeners soon caught the
drift of it, and watched its reception by the Crowd. Well! the
Fire-eaters gradually cooled down. The prospect of the ale at the
_Spread Eagle_ caused many a smack of the lips, which in its turn
smothered the cries of Rage and Vituperation. Anon, One could perceive
one forearm after another drawn with anticipatory Pleasure across lips
that had ceased to boo.
Just then, too, Heaven interposed in a conciliatory spirit in the form
of a few drops of heavy Rain, presaging a Storm. The next moment the
stampede in the direction of the _Spread Eagle_ tavern had begun, whilst
my Lady Castlemaine's Chairmen trudged unmolested past our door.
My Lord Stour gave a loud laugh.
"'Twas well thought on," he exclaimed. "The Mountebank hath found a way
to stop the Rabble's howls, whilst my Lady Baggage finds safety in
flight."
But Lady Barbara added thoughtfully: "Methinks 'twas plucky to try and
defend a Woman single-handed."
4
I watched the turbulent throng, filing now in orderly procession through
the hospitably open doors of the _Spread Eagle_ tavern. Mr. Betterton
remained for awhile standing at the door, marshalling the more
obstreperous of his invited Guests and parleying with Mr. Barraclough,
the Host of the _Spread Eagle_--no doubt making arrangements for the
quenching of three or four hundred thirsts at his expense. Then he
suddenly turned on his heel and came up the Street. Lord Douglas gave
one of his rough, grating laughs, and said:
"So now I see that, like a wise man, Mr. Betterton mistrusts his
Popularity and proposes to seek refuge from his ebullient Friends."
"I believe," said Mistress Euphrosine to her Lord in an awed whisper; "I
believe that Thomas is coming here."
Which possibility greatly disconcerted Mr. Baggs. He became quite
agitated, and exclaimed fussily:
"I'll not have him here ... I'll not ... Not while her Ladyship is here
... I'll not allow it!"
"And pray why not, Mr. Notary?" Lady Barbara put in haughtily. "Mr.
Betterton sups twice a week with His Majesty. Surely then you may
invite him without shame under your roof!"
"And I've never seen the great Actor close to," remarked Lord Stour
lightly. "I've oft marvelled what he was like in private life."
"Oh!" said Lord Douglas, with a distinct note of acerbity in his voice,
"he is just like any other Fellow of his degree. These Mountebanks have
of late thought themselves Somebodies, just because 'tis the fashion for
Gentlemen to write plays and to go to the Theatre. My Lord Rochester,
Sir George Etherege and the others have so spoilt them by going about
constantly with them, that the Fellows scarce know their place now.
This man Betterton is the worst of the lot. He makes love to the Ladies
of the Court, forgets that he is naught but a Rogue and a Vagabond and
not worthy to be seen in the company of Gentlemen. Oh! I've oft had an
itching to lay a stick across the shoulders of some of these louts!"
I would that I could convey to you, dear Mistress, the tone of Spite
wherewith Lord Douglas spoke at this moment, or the look of Contempt
which for the moment quite disfigured his good-looking Face. That he
had been made aware at some time of Mr. Betterton's admiration for Lady
Barbara became at once apparent to me, also that he looked upon that
admiration as a Presumption and an Insult.
I was confirmed in this Supposition by the look which he gave then and
there to his Sister, a look which caused her to blush to the very roots
of her hair. I fancy, too, that he also whispered something on that
Subject to my Lord Stour, for a dark frown of Anger suddenly appeared
upon the latter's Face and he muttered an angry and rough Ejaculation.
As for me, I am an humble Clerk, a peaceful Citizen and a practising
Christian; but just at that moment I felt that I hated Lord Douglas
Wychwoode and his Friend with a bitter and undying hatred.
5
Meseemed as if the air within the room had become surcharged with a
subtle and heady fluid akin to an Intoxicant, so many Passions were even
then warring in the innermost hearts of us all. There was Hatred and
Spite, and Fervour and Love. We were all of us alive at that moment, if
You know what I mean. We were Individuals who felt and thought
individually and strongly; not just the mere sheeplike Creatures swayed
hither and thither by the Modes and Exigencies of the hour. And I can
assure you that even then, when we heard Mr. Betterton's quick step
ascending the stairs, we all held our breath and watched the door as if
something Supernatural was about to be revealed to us.
The next moment that door was thrown open and Mr. Betterton appeared
upon the threshold.
Ah! if only You had seen him then, Mistress, your heart would have
rejoiced, just as mine did, at the sight. Personally, I could never
tell You if Mr. Betterton is tall or short, handsome or ill-favoured;
all that I know is that when he is in a room you cannot look at any one
else; he seems to dwarf every other Man by the Picturesqueness of his
Personality.
And now--oh! You should have seen him as he stood there, framed in the
doorway, the grey afternoon light of this dull September day falling
full upon his Face, with those glittering Eyes of his and the kindly,
firm Mouth, round which there slowly began to spread a gently mocking
Smile. He was richly dressed, as was his wont, with priceless lace
frills at throat and wrists, and his huge Periwig set off to perfection
the nobility of his brow.
With one swift gaze round the room, he had taken in the full Situation.
You know yourself, dear Mistress, what marvellous Powers of Intuition he
has. His glance swept over Lady Barbara's exquisite comeliness, her
somewhat flurried mien and wide, inquisitive eyes; over Lord Douglas,
sullen and contemptuous; my Lord Stour, wrathful and suspicious;
Mistress Euphrosine and Mr. Baggs, servile and tremulous. I doubt not
that his keen Eyes had also spied me watching his every Movement from
behind the screen.
The mocking Smile broadened upon his Face. With one shapely leg extended
forward, his right arm holding his hat, his arm executing a superb
flourish, he swept to the assembled Company an elaborate Bow.
"My Lords, your servant," he said. Then bowed more gravely to Lady
Barbara and added, with a tone of subtle and flattering deference: "I
am, as always, your Ladyship's most humble and most devoted Slave."
Whereupon her Ladyship swept him one of those graceful Curtsies which I
understand have become the Mode in fashionable Society of late. But the
young Gentlemen seemed to have lost count of their Manners. They were
either too wrathful or too much taken aback to speak. Mistress
Euphrosine, with her nose in the air, was preparing to sail majestically
out of the room.
Mr. Betterton then stepped in. He threw down his hat and playfully made
pretence to intercept Mistress Euphrosine.
"Sister, I do entreat You," he said with mock concern, "do not carry
your well-shaped nose so high. The scent of Heaven will not reach your
nostrils, try how you may.... 'Tis more likely that you will smell the
brimstone which clings to my perruque."
And before Mistress Euphrosine had time to think of a retort, he had
turned to her Ladyship with that gentle air of deference which became
him so well.
"How comes it," he asked, "that I have the privilege of meeting your
Ladyship here?"
"A mere accident, Sir," my Lord Stour interposed, somewhat high-handedly
I thought. "Her Ladyship, fearing to be molested by the Crowd, came to
meet Lord Douglas here."
"I understand," murmured Mr. Betterton. And I who knew him so well,
realized that just for the moment he understood nothing save that he was
in the presence of this exquisitely beautiful Woman who had enchained
his Fancy. He stood like one transfixed, his eyes fastened almost in
wonderment upon the graceful Apparition before him. I should not be
exaggerating, fair Mistress, if I said that he seemed literally to be
drinking in every line of her dainty Figure; the straight, white throat,
the damask cheek and soft, fair hair, slightly disarranged. He had of a
truth lost consciousness of his surroundings, and this to such an extent
that it apparently set my Lord Stour's nerves on edge; for anon he said
with evident Irritation and a total Disregard both of polite Usage and
of Truth, since of course he knew quite well to whom he was speaking:
"I did not catch your name, Sir; though you seem acquainted with her
Ladyship."
He had to repeat the Query twice, and with haughty impatience, before
Mr. Betterton descended from the Clouds in order to reply.
"My name is Betterton, Sir," he said, no less curtly than my lord.
"Betterton? Ah, yes!" his Lordship went on, with what I thought was
studied Insolence, seeing that he was addressing one of the most famous
Men in England. "I have heard the Name before ... but where, I cannot
remember.... Let me see, you are...?"
"An Actor, Sir," Mr. Betterton gave haughty answer. "Therefore an
Artist, even though an humble one; but still a World contained in one
Man."
Then his manner changed, the stiffness and pride went out of it and he
added in his more habitual mode of good-natured banter, whilst pointing
in the direction of Mistress Euphrosine:
"That, however, is not, I imagine, the opinion which my worthy Sister--a
pious Lady, Sir--hath of my talents. She only concedes me a Soul when
she gloats over the idea that it shall be damned."
"You are insolent!" quoth Mistress Euphrosine, as she stalked
majestically to the door. "And I'll not stay longer to hear you
blaspheme."
Even so, her Brother's lightly mocking ripple of Laughter pursued her
along the course of her dignified exit through the door.
"Nay, dear Sister," he said. "Why not stay and tell these noble
Gentlemen your doubts as to which half of me in the hereafter will be
stoking the Fires of Hell and which half be wriggling in the Flames?"
Then he added, turning gaily once more to the Visitors as Mistress
Euphrosine finally departed and banged the door to behind her: "Mistress
Baggs, Sir, is much troubled that she cannot quite make up her mind how
much of me is Devil and how much a lost Soul."
"Of a surety, Sir," retorted Lord Douglas, with the same tone of
malicious Spite wherewith he had originally spoken of Mr. Betterton,
"every Gentleman is bound to share your worthy Sister's doubts on that
point ... and as to whether your right Hand or your sharp Tongue will
fizzle first down below."
There was a moment's silence in the room--oh! the mere fraction of a
second--whilst I, who knew every line of Mr. Betterton's face, saw the
quick flash of Anger which darted from his eyes at the insolent speech.
Lady Barbara too had made an instinctive movement, whether towards him
in protection or towards her Brother in reproach, I could not say.
Certain it is that that Movement chased away in one instant Mr.
Betterton's flaming wrath. He shrugged his shoulders and retorted with
quiet Mockery:
"Your Lordship, I feel sure, will be able to have those doubts set at
rest presently. I understand that vast intelligence will be granted to
Gentlemen down there."
At once my Lord's hand went to his sword.
"Insolent!--" he muttered; and my Lord Stour immediately stepped to his
Friend's side.
Like the Fleet Street crowd awhile ago, these two Gentlemen meant
mischief. For some reason which was not far to seek, they were on the
verge of a Quarrel with Mr. Betterton--nay! I believe that they meant
to provoke him into one. In wordy Warfare, however, they did not stand
much chance against the great Actor's caustic Wit, and no doubt their
sense of Impotence made them all the more wrathful and quarrelsome.
Mr. Baggs, of course, servile and obsequious as was his wont, was ready
enough to interpose. A Quarrel inside his house, between valued Clients
and his detested Brother-in-law, was not at all to his liking.
"My Lords ..." he mumbled half-incoherently, "I implore you ... do not
heed him ... he..."
His futile attempts at Conciliation tickled Mr. Betterton's sense of
humour. The last vestige of his Anger vanished in a mocking Smile.
"Nay, good Master Theophilus," he said coolly, "prithee do not interfere
between me and the Wrath of these two Gentlemen. Attend to thine own
Affairs ... and to thine own Conspiracies," he added--spoke suddenly
under Mr. Baggs' very nose, so that the latter gave a jump and
involuntarily gasped:
"Conspiracies? ... What--what the devil do you mean, Sir, by
Conspiracies?"
"Oh, nothing--nothing--my good Friend," replied Mr. Betterton lightly.
"But when I see two hot-headed young Cavaliers in close conversation
with a seedy Lawyer, I know that somewhere in the pocket of one of them
there is a bit of Handwriting that may send the lot of them to the Tower
first and to--well!--to Heaven afterwards."
My Heart was in my Mouth all the time that he spoke. Of course he could
not know how near the Truth he was, and I firmly believe that his banter
was a mere Arrow shot into the air; but even so it grazed these noble
Lords' equanimity. Lord Douglas had become very pale, and my Lord Stour
looked troubled, or was it my fancy? But I am sure that her Ladyship's
blue eyes rested on Mr. Betterton with a curious searching gaze. She
too wondered how much Knowledge of the Truth lay behind his easy
Sarcasm.
Then Lord Douglas broke into a laugh.
"There, for once, Sir Actor," he said lightly, "your perspicacity is at
fault. My Lord the Earl of Stour and I came to consult your
Brother-in-law on a matter of business."
"And," exclaimed Mr. Betterton with mock concern, "I am detaining you
with my foolish talk. I pray you, Gentlemen, take no further heed of
me. Time treads hard on your aristocratic Heels, whilst it is the Slave
of a poor, shiftless Actor like myself."
"Yes, yes," once more interposed the mealy-mouthed Mr. Baggs. "I pray
you, my Lords--your Ladyship--to come to my inner office----"
There was a general movement amongst the Company, during which I
distinctly heard Lord Douglas Wychwoode whisper to my Lord Stour:
"Can you wonder that I always long to lay a stick across that Man's
shoulders? His every word sounds like insolence ... And he has dared to
make love to Barbara...."
Her Ladyship, however, seemed loth to linger. The hour, of a truth, was
getting late.
"Father will be anxious," she said. "I have stayed out over long."
"Are the streets safe, I wonder?" my Lord Stour remarked.
"Perfectly," broke in Mr. Betterton. "And if her Ladyship will allow
me, I will conduct her to her Chair."
Again my Lord Stour flashed out angrily, and once more the brooding
Quarrel threatened to burst the bounds of conventional Intercourse.
This time the Lady Barbara herself interposed.
"I pray you, my good Lord," she said, "do not interfere. Mr. Betterton
and I are old Friends. By your leave, he shall conduct me to my chair.
Do we not owe it to him," she added gaily, "that the streets are quiet
enough to enable us all to get home in peace?"
Then she turned to Mr. Betterton and said gently:
"If You would be so kind, Sir--my men are close by--I should be grateful
if You will tell them to bring my chair along."
She held out her hand to him and he bowed low and kissed the tips of her
fingers. Then he went.
6
Lord Douglas' spiteful glance followed the distinguished Actor's
retreating figure until the door had closed upon him. Then he said
drily:
"Perhaps you are right, Babs. He may as well fetch your chair. It is
raining hard and one Lacquey is as good as another."
He turned to Mr. Baggs, who, standing first on one leg then on the
other, presented a truly pitiable spectacle of Servility and
Unmanliness. I think he had just come to realize that I had been in the
room behind the screen all this while, and that my Presence would be
unwelcome to their Lordships if they knew that I had overheard all their
Conversation. Certain it is that I saw him give a quick glance in my
direction, and then he became even more fussy and snivelling than
before.
"In my inner Office," he murmured. "I pray you to honour me, my
Lords.... A glass of wine, perhaps ... until the copies are finished. I
should be so proud ... and ... and ... we should be quite undisturbed
... whereas here ... I only regret..."
I despised him for all that grovelling, and so did the Gentlemen, I make
no doubt. Nevertheless, they were ready to follow him.
"We must wait somewhere," Lord Douglas said curtly. "And I should be
glad of a glass of wine."
Lady Barbara was standing in the window-recess, waiting for her chair.
She insisted on my Lord Stour going with her Brother into the inner
room. Undoubtedly, she did not wish either of them to meet Mr. Betterton
again.
"I promise you," she said with quiet Determination, "that I'll not stop
to speak with him. I'll watch through the window until my Men bring the
chair; then I will go down at once."
"But----" protested his Lordship.
"I entreat you to go, my Lord," she reiterated tartly. "And you too,
Douglas. My temper is on edge, and if I am not left to myself for a few
moments I shall have an attack of Nerves."
She certainly spoke with unwonted Sharpness. Thus commanded, it would
have been churlish to disobey. The young Gentlemen, after a second or
two longer of Hesitation, finally followed Mr. Baggs out of the room.
Now, I could not see the Lady Barbara, for she was ensconced in a
window-recess, just as I was; but I heard her give a loud Sigh of
Impatience. There was no doubt that her Nerves had been jarred. Small
wonder, seeing all that she had gone through--the noise and rioting in
the streets, her Terror and her Flight; her unexpected meeting with her
Lover; then the advent of Mr. Betterton and that brooding Quarrel
between him and the two Gentlemen, which threatened to break through at
any moment.
The next minute I saw her Ladyship's chair brought to a halt down below,
and she crossed the Line of my Vision between the window and the sofa,
where she had left her cloak. She picked it up and was about to wrap it
round her shoulders, when the door was flung open and Mr. Betterton came
in. He gave a quick glance round the room and saw that the Lady Barbara
was alone--or so he thought, for, of course, he did not see me. He
carefully closed the door behind him and came quickly forward,
ostensibly to help her Ladyship on with her cloak.
"It is kind of you, Sir, thus to wait on me," she said coldly. "May I
claim your Arm to conduct me to my chair?"
She was standing close in front of him just then, with her back to him
and her hands raised up to her shoulders in order to receive her cloak,
which he had somewhat roughly snatched out of her grasp.
"My Arm?" he riposted, with a vibrating note of passion in his mellow
voice. "My Life, myself, are all at your Ladyship's service. But will
not you wait one little moment and say one kind word to the poor Actor
whose Art is the delight of Kings, and whose Person is the butt of every
Coxcomb who calls himself a Gentleman?"
He flung the cloak upon a chair and tried to take her hand, which,
however, she quickly withdrew, and then turned, not unkindly, to face
him.
"My Brother is hasty, Sir," she said more gently. "He has many
prejudices which, no doubt, time and experience of life will mend. As
for me," she added lightly, "I am quite ready to extend the hand of
Friendship, not only to the Artist but to the Man."
She held out her hand to him. Then, as he did not take it, but stood
there looking at her with that hungry, passionate look which revealed
the depth of his Admiration for her, she continued with a bantering tone
of reproach:
"You will not take my hand, Sir?"
"No," he replied curtly.
"But I am offering You my Friendship," she went on, with a quick, nervy
little laugh; for she was Woman enough, believe me, to understand his
look.
"Friendship between Man and Woman is impossible," he said in a strange,
hoarse voice, which I scarce recognized as his.
"What do you mean?" she retorted, with a sudden stiffening of her Figure
and a haughty Glance which he, of a truth, should have known boded no
good for his suit.
"I mean," he replied, "that between a Man and a Woman, who are both
young and both endowed with Heart and Soul and Temperament, there may be
Enmity or Love, Hatred or Passion; but Friendship, never."
"You talk vaguely, Sir," she rejoined coldly. "I pray You, give me my
cloak."
"Not," he retorted, "before I have caused your Ladyship to cast one
short Glance back over the past few months."
"With what purpose, I pray You?"
"So that You might recognize, as You gaze along their vista, the man who
since he first beheld you hath madly worshipped You."
She stood before him, still facing him, tall and of a truth divinely
fair. Nay! this no one could gainsay. For the moment I found it in my
Heart to sympathize with his Infatuation. You, dear Mistress, were not
there to show him how much lovelier still a Woman could be, and the Lady
Barbara had all the subtle flavour, too, of forbidden fruit. Mr.
Betterton sank on one knee before her; his mellow Voice sounded
exquisitely tender and caressing. Oh! had I been a Woman, how gladly
would I have listened to his words. There never was such a Voice as
that of Mr. Betterton. No wonder that he can sway the hearts of
thousands by its Magic; no wonder that thousands remain entranced while
he speaks. Now, I assure You, Mistress, that tears gathered in my eyes,
there was such true Passion, such depth of feeling in his tone. But
Lady Barbara's heart was not touched. In truth, she loved another Man,
and her whole outlook on Life and Men was distorted by the Environment
amidst which she had been brought up.
The exquisite, insinuating Voice with its note of tender Appeal only
aroused her contempt. She jumped to her feet with an angry exclamation.
What she said, I do not quite remember; but it was a Remark which must
have stung him to the quick, for I can assure You, dear Mistress, that
Mr. Betterton's pride is at least equal to that of the greatest Nobleman
in the land. But all that he did say was:
"Nay, Madam; an Artist's love is not an insult, even to a Queen."
"Possibly, Sir," she riposted coldly. "But I at least cannot listen to
You. So I pray You let me rejoin my Servants."
"And I pray You," he pleaded, without rising, "humbly on my knees, to
hear me just this once!"
She protested, and would have left him there, kneeling, while she ran
out of the room; but he had succeeded in getting hold of her Hand and
was clinging to it with both his own, whilst from his lips there came a
torrent of passionate pleading such as I could not have thought any
Woman capable of resisting for long.
"I am not a young Dandy," he urged; "nor yet a lank-haired, crazy Poet
who grows hysterical over a Woman's eyebrow. I am a Man, and an Artist,
rich with an inheritance such as even your Ancestors would have envied
me. Mine inheritance is the Mind and Memory of cultured England and a
Name which by mine Art I have rendered immortal."
"I honour your Genius, Sir," she rejoined coolly; "and because of it, I
try to excuse your folly."
"Nay!" he continued with passionate insistence. "There are Passions so
sweet that they excuse all the Follies they provoke. Oh! I pray You
listen ... I have waited in silence for months, not daring to approach
You. You seemed immeasurably above me, as distant as the Stars; but
whilst I, poor and lowly-born, waited and worshipped silently, success
forged for me a Name, so covered with Glory that I dare at last place it
at your feet."
"I am touched, Sir, and honoured, I assure You," she said somewhat
impatiently. "But all this is naught but folly, and reason should teach
you that the Daughter of the Marquis of Sidbury can be nothing to You."
But by this time it was evident that the great and distinguished Actor
had allowed his Folly to conquer his Reason. I closed my eyes, for I
could not bear to see a Man whom I so greatly respected kneeling in such
abject humiliation before a Woman who had nothing for him but disdain.
Ah! Women can be very cruel when they do not love. In truth, Lady
Barbara, with all her Rank and Wealth, could not really have felt
contempt for a Man whom the King himself and the highest in the land
delighted to honour; yet I assure You, Mistress, that some of the things
she said made me blush for the sake of the high-minded Man who honours
me with his Friendship.
"Short of reason, Sir," she said, with unmeasured hauteur at one time,
"I pray you recall your far-famed sense of humour. Let it show you
Thomas Betterton, the son of a Scullion, asking the hand of the Lady
Barbara Wychwoode in marriage."
This was meant for a Slap in the Face, and was naught but a studied
insult; for we all know that the story of Mr. Betterton's Father having
been a menial is utterly without foundation. But I assure You that by
this time he was blind and deaf to all save to the insistent call of his
own overwhelming passion. He did not resent the insult, as I thought he
would do; but merely rejoined fervently:
"I strive to conjure the picture; but only see Tom Betterton, the
world-famed Artist, wooing the Woman he loves."
But what need is there for me to recapitulate here all the fond and
foolish things which were spoken by a truly great Man to a chit of a
Girl, who was too self-centred and egotistical to appreciate the great
Honour which he was conferring on her by his Wooing. I was holding my
breath, fearful lest I should be seen. To both of these proud People
before me, my known Presence would have been an added humiliation.
Already Lady Barbara, impatient of Mr. Betterton's importunity, was
raising her Voice and curtly bidding him to leave her in peace. I
thought every moment that she would call out to her Brother, when Heaven
alone would know what would happen next.
"Your importunity becomes an insult, Sir," she said at last. "I command
You to release my hand."
She tried to wrench it from his Grasp, but I imagine that his hold on
her wrist was so strong that she could not free herself. She looked
around her now with a look of Helplessness, which would have gone to my
Heart if I had any feeling of sympathy left after I had poured out its
full measure for my stricken Friend. He was not himself then, I assure
You, Mistress. I know that the evil tongue of those who hate and envy
him have poured insidious poison in your ears, that they told you that
Mr. Betterton had insulted the Lady Barbara past forgiveness and had
behaved towards her like a Cad and a Bully. But this I swear to be
untrue. I was there all the time, and I saw it all. He was on his
knees, and never attempted to touch her beyond clinging to her Hand and
covering it with kisses. He was an humbled and a stricken Man, who saw
his Love rejected, his Passion flouted, his Suffering mocked.
I tell you that all he did was to cling to her hand.
7
Then, all at once, I suppose something frightened her, and she called
loudly:
"Douglas! Douglas!"
I don't think that she meant to call, and I am sure that the very next
moment she had already regretted what she had done.
Mr. Betterton jumped to his feet, sobered in the instant; and she stood
alone in the middle of the room, gazing somewhat wild-eyed in the
direction of the door, which had already been violently flung open and
through which my Lord Stour and Lord Douglas now hurriedly stepped
forward.
"What is it, Babs?" Lord Douglas queried roughly. "Why are You still
here? ... And what...?"
He got no further. His glance had alighted on Mr. Betterton, and I
never saw quite so much concentrated Fury and Hatred in any one's eyes
as now appeared in those of Lord Douglas Wychwoode.
But already the Lady Barbara had recovered herself. No doubt she
realized the Mischief which her involuntary call had occasioned. The
Quarrel which had been slowly smouldering the whole Afternoon was ready
to burst into living flame at this moment. Even so, she tried to stem
its outburst, protesting that she had been misunderstood. She even
tried to laugh; but the laugh sounded pitiably forced.
"But it's nothing, Douglas, dear," she said. "I protest. Did I really
call? I do not remember. As a matter of fact, Mr. Betterton was good
enough to recite some verses for my delectation ... My Enthusiasm must
have run away with me ... and, unwittingly, I must have called out..."
Obviously the Explanation was a lame one. I felt myself that it would
not be believed. On the face of my Lord Stour thunderclouds of Wrath
were fast gathering, and though Mr. Betterton had recovered his presence
of mind with all the Art at his command, yet there was a glitter in his
eyes which he was powerless to veil, whilst the tremor of her Ladyship's
lips while she strove to speak calmly aroused my Lord Stour's
ever-wakeful Jealousy.
Lord Douglas, as was his wont apparently whenever he was deeply moved,
was pacing up and down the room; his hands were clasped behind his back
and from time to time I could see their convulsive twitching. Lord
Stour now silently helped her Ladyship on with her cloak. I was
thankful that Mr. Baggs and Mistress Euphrosine were keeping in the
background, else I verily believe that their obsequious Snivellings
would have caused my quivering Nerves to play me an unpleasant trick.
Mr. Betterton had retired to the nearest window recess, so that I could
not see him. All that I did see were the two Gentlemen and the
threatening Clouds which continued to gather upon their Brows. I also
heard my Lord Stour whisper hurriedly in Lord Douglas' ear:
"In the name of our Friendship, Man, let me deal with this."
I felt as if an icy hand had gripped my Heart. I could not conjecture
what that ominous Speech could portend. Lady Barbara now looked very
pale and troubled; her hands as they fumbled with her cloak trembled
visibly. Lord Stour, with a masterful gesture, took one of them and
held it firmly under his arm.
He then led her towards the door. Just before she went with him,
however, her Ladyship turned, and I imagine sought to attract Mr.
Betterton's attention.
"I must thank you, Sir," she said, with a final pathetic attempt at
Conciliation, "for your beautiful Recitation. I shall be greatly
envied, methinks, by those who have only heard Mr. Betterton declaim
upon the Stage."
Lord Douglas had gone to the door. He opened it and stood grimly by
whilst my Lord Stour walked out, with her Ladyship upon his arm.