diff options
| -rw-r--r-- | .gitattributes | 3 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | 20328-8.txt | 13603 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | 20328-8.zip | bin | 0 -> 237032 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 20328-h.zip | bin | 0 -> 455829 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 20328-h/20328-h.htm | 13777 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | 20328-h/images/frontis.jpg | bin | 0 -> 120911 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 20328-h/images/frontis_thumb.jpg | bin | 0 -> 18991 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 20328-h/images/logo.jpg | bin | 0 -> 16977 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 20328-h/images/titleframe.jpg | bin | 0 -> 51802 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 20328.txt | 13603 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | 20328.zip | bin | 0 -> 237010 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | LICENSE.txt | 11 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | README.md | 2 |
13 files changed, 40999 insertions, 0 deletions
diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/20328-8.txt b/20328-8.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..f3cd11b --- /dev/null +++ b/20328-8.txt @@ -0,0 +1,13603 @@ +The Project Gutenberg eBook, Simon Dale, by Anthony Hope + + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + + + + +Title: Simon Dale + + +Author: Anthony Hope + + + +Release Date: January 10, 2007 [eBook #20328] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + + +***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK SIMON DALE*** + + +E-text prepared by Elaine Walker, Karen Dalrymple, and the Project +Gutenberg Online Distributed Proofreading Team (https://www.pgdp.net/c/) + + + +Note: Project Gutenberg also has an HTML version of this + file which includes the original illustration. + See 20328-h.htm or 20328-h.zip: + (https://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/2/0/3/2/20328/20328-h/20328-h.htm) + or + (https://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/2/0/3/2/20328/20328-h.zip) + + + + + +SIMON DALE + +by + +ANTHONY HOPE + + + + + + + +T. Nelson & Sons +London and Edinburgh +Paris: 189, rue Saint-Jacques +Leipzig: 35-37 Königstrasse + + +[Illustration: "It is only that a low laugh echoes distantly in my +ear."] + + +[Illustration] + + + + +CONTENTS + + I. The Child of Prophecy 3 + + II. The Way of Youth 18 + + III. The Music of the World 33 + + IV. Cydaria revealed 49 + + V. I am forbidden to forget 65 + + VI. An Invitation to Court 84 + + VII. What came of Honesty 103 + + VIII. Madness, Magic, and Moonshine 122 + + IX. Of Gems and Pebbles 140 + + X. Je Viens, Tu Viens, Il Vient 160 + + XI. The Gentleman from Calais 180 + + XII. The Deference of His Grace the Duke 201 + + XIII. The Meed of Curiosity 222 + + XIV. The King's Cup 244 + + XV. M. de Perrencourt whispers 263 + + XVI. M. de Perrencourt wonders 283 + + XVII. What befell my Last Guinea 303 + + XVIII. Some Mighty Silly Business 324 + + XIX. A Night on the Road 345 + + XX. The Vicar's Proposition 362 + + XXI. The Strange Conjuncture of Two Gentlemen 378 + + XXII. The Device of Lord Carford 396 + + XXIII. A Pleasant Penitence 414 + + XXIV. A Comedy before the King 434 + + XXV. The Mind of M. de Fontelles 451 + + XXVI. I come Home 468 + + + + +SIMON DALE + + + + +CHAPTER I + +THE CHILD OF PROPHECY + + +One who was in his day a person of great place and consideration, and +has left a name which future generations shall surely repeat so long as +the world may last, found no better rule for a man's life than that he +should incline his mind to move in Charity, rest in Providence, and turn +upon the poles of Truth. This condition, says he, is Heaven upon Earth; +and although what touches truth may better befit the philosopher who +uttered it than the vulgar and unlearned, for whom perhaps it is a +counsel too high and therefore dangerous, what comes before should +surely be graven by each of us on the walls of our hearts. For any man +who lived in the days that I have seen must have found much need of +trust in Providence, and by no whit the less of charity for men. In such +trust and charity I have striven to write: in the like I pray you to +read. + +I, Simon Dale, was born on the seventh day of the seventh month in the +year of Our Lord sixteen-hundred-and-forty-seven. The date was good in +that the Divine Number was thrice found in it, but evil in that it fell +on a time of sore trouble both for the nation and for our own house; +when men had begun to go about saying that if the King would not keep +his promises it was likely that he would keep his head as little; when +they who had fought for freedom were suspecting that victory had brought +new tyrants; when the Vicar was put out of his cure; and my father, +having trusted the King first, the Parliament afterwards, and at last +neither the one nor the other, had lost the greater part of his +substance, and fallen from wealth to straitened means: such is the +common reward of an honest patriotism wedded to an open mind. However, +the date, good or bad, was none of my doing, nor indeed, folks +whispered, much of my parents' either, seeing that destiny overruled the +affair, and Betty Nasroth, the wise woman, announced its imminence more +than a year beforehand. For she predicted the birth, on the very day +whereon I came into the world, within a mile of the parish church, of a +male child who--and the utterance certainly had a lofty sound about +it--should love where the King loved, know what the King hid, and drink +of the King's cup. Now, inasmuch as none lived within the limits named +by Betty Nasroth, save on the one side sundry humble labourers, whose +progeny could expect no such fate, and on the other my Lord and Lady +Quinton, who were wedded but a month before my birthday, the prophecy +was fully as pointed as it had any need to be, and caused to my parents +no small questionings. It was the third clause or term of the prediction +that gave most concern alike to my mother and to my father; to my +mother, because, although of discreet mind and a sound Churchwoman, she +was from her earliest years a Rechabite, and had never heard of a King +who drank water; and to my father by reason of his decayed estate, which +made it impossible for him to contrive how properly to fit me for my +predestined company. "A man should not drink the King's wine without +giving the King as good," my father reflected ruefully. Meanwhile I, +troubling not at all about the matter, was content to prove Betty right +in point of the date, and, leaving the rest to the future, achieved this +triumph for her most punctually. Whatsoever may await a man on his way +through the world, he can hardly begin life better than by keeping his +faith with a lady. + +She was a strange old woman, this Betty Nasroth, and would likely enough +have fared badly in the time of the King's father. Now there was bigger +game than witches afoot, and nothing worse befell her than the scowls of +her neighbours and the frightened mockery of children. She made free +reply with curses and dark mutterings, but me she loved as being the +child of her vision, and all the more because, encountering her as I +rode in my mother's arms, I did not cry, but held out my hands, crowing +and struggling to get to her; whereat suddenly, and to my mother's great +terror, she exclaimed: "Thou see'st, Satan!" and fell to weeping, a +thing which, as every woman in the parish knew, a person absolutely +possessed by the Evil One can by no means accomplish (unless, indeed, a +bare three drops squeezed from the left eye may usurp the name of +tears). But my mother shrank away from her and would not allow her to +touch me; nor was it until I had grown older and ran about the village +alone that the old woman, having tracked me to a lonely spot, took me in +her arms, mumbled over my head some words I did not understand, and +kissed me. That a mole grows on the spot she kissed is but a fable (for +how do the women know where her kiss fell save by where the mole +grows?--and that is to reason poorly), or at the most the purest chance. +Nay, if it were more, I am content; for the mole does me no harm, and +the kiss, as I hope, did Betty some good; off she went straight to the +Vicar (who was living then in the cottage of my Lord Quinton's gardener +and exercising his sacred functions in a secrecy to which the whole +parish was privy) and prayed him to let her partake of the Lord's +Supper: a request that caused great scandal to the neighbours and sore +embarrassment to the Vicar himself, who, being a learned man and deeply +read in demonology, grieved from his heart that the witch did not play +her part better. + +"It is," said he to my father, "a monstrous lapse." + +"Nay, it is a sign of grace," urged my mother. + +"It is," said my father (and I do not know whether he spoke perversely +or in earnest), "a matter of no moment." + +Now, being steadfastly determined that my boyhood shall be less tedious +in the telling than it was in the living--for I always longed to be a +man, and hated my green and petticoat-governed days--I will pass +forthwith to the hour when I reached the age of eighteen years. My dear +father was then in Heaven, and old Betty had found, as was believed, +another billet. But my mother lived, and the Vicar, like the King, had +come to his own again: and I was five feet eleven in my stockings, and +there was urgent need that I should set about pushing my way and putting +money in my purse; for our lands had not returned with the King, and +there was no more incoming than would serve to keep my mother and +sisters in the style of gentlewomen. + +"And on that matter," observed the Vicar, stroking his nose with his +forefinger, as his habit was in moments of perplexity, "Betty Nasroth's +prophecy is of small service. For the doings on which she touches are +likely to be occasions of expense rather than sources of gain." + +"They would be money wasted," said my mother gently, "one and all of +them." + +The Vicar looked a little doubtful. + +"I will write a sermon on that theme," said he; for this was with him a +favourite way out of an argument. In truth the Vicar loved the prophecy, +as a quiet student often loves a thing that echoes of the world which he +has shunned. + +"You must write down for me what the King says to you, Simon," he told +me once. + +"Suppose, sir," I suggested mischievously, "that it should not be fit +for your eye?" + +"Then write it, Simon," he answered, pinching my ear, "for my +understanding." + +It was well enough for the Vicar's whimsical fancy to busy itself with +Betty Nasroth's prophecy, half-believing, half-mocking, never forgetting +nor disregarding; but I, who am, after all, the most concerned, doubt +whether such a dark utterance be a wholesome thing to hang round a young +man's neck. The dreams of youth grow rank enough without such watering. +The prediction was always in my mind, alluring and tantalising as a +teasing girl who puts her pretty face near yours, safe that you dare not +kiss it. What it said I mused on, what it said not I neglected. I +dedicated my idle hours to it, and, not appeased, it invaded my seasons +of business. Rather than seek my own path, I left myself to its will and +hearkened for its whispered orders. + +"It was the same," observed my mother sadly, "with a certain cook-maid +of my sister's. It was foretold that she should marry her master." + +"And did she not?" cried the Vicar, with ears all pricked-up. + +"She changed her service every year," said my mother, "seeking the +likeliest man, until at last none would hire her." + +"She should have stayed in her first service," said the Vicar, shaking +his head. + +"But her first master had a wife," retorted my mother triumphantly. + +"I had one once myself," said the Vicar. + +The argument, with which his widowhood supplied the Vicar, was sound and +unanswerable, and it suited well with my humour to learn from my aunt's +cook-maid, and wait patiently on fate. But what avails an argument, be +it ever so sound, against an empty purse? It was declared that I must +seek my fortune; yet on the method of my search some difference arose. + +"You must work, Simon," said my sister Lucy, who was betrothed to +Justice Barnard, a young squire of good family and high repute, but +mighty hard on idle vagrants, and free with the stocks for revellers. + +"You must pray for guidance," said my sister Mary, who was to wed a +saintly clergyman, a Prebend, too, of the Cathedral. + +"There is," said I stoutly, "nothing of such matters in Betty Nasroth's +prophecy." + +"They are taken for granted, dear boy," said my mother gently. + +The Vicar rubbed his nose. + +Yet not these excellent and zealous counsellors proved right, but the +Vicar and I. For had I gone to London, as they urged, instead of abiding +where I was, agreeably to the Vicar's argument and my own inclination, +it is a great question whether the plague would not have proved too +strong for Betty Nasroth, and her prediction gone to lie with me in a +death-pit. As things befell, I lived, hearing only dimly and, as it +were, from afar-off of that great calamity, and of the horrors that +beset the city. For the disease did not come our way, and we moralised +on the sins of the townsfolk with sound bodies and contented minds. We +were happy in our health and in our virtue, and not disinclined to +applaud God's judgment that smote our erring brethren; for too often the +chastisement of one sinner feeds another's pride. Yet the plague had a +hand, and no small one, in that destiny of mine, although it came not +near me; for it brought fresh tenants to those same rooms in the +gardener's cottage where the Vicar had dwelt till the loyal Parliament's +Act proved too hard for the conscience of our Independent minister, and +the Vicar, nothing loth, moved back to his parsonage. + +Now I was walking one day, as I had full licence and leave to walk, in +the avenue of Quinton Manor, when I saw, first, what I had (if I am to +tell the truth) come to see, to wit, the figure of young Mistress +Barbara, daintily arrayed in a white summer gown. Barbara was pleased +to hold herself haughtily towards me, for she was an heiress, and of a +house that had not fallen in the world as mine had. Yet we were friends; +for we sparred and rallied, she giving offence and I taking it, she +pardoning my rudeness and I accepting forgiveness; while my lord and my +lady, perhaps thinking me too low for fear and yet high enough for +favour, showed me much kindness; my lord, indeed, would often jest with +me on the great fate foretold me in Betty Nasroth's prophecy. + +"Yet," he would say, with a twinkle in his eye, "the King has strange +secrets, and there is some strange wine in his cup, and to love where he +loves----"; but at this point the Vicar, who chanced to be by, twinkled +also, but shifted the conversation to some theme which did not touch the +King, his secrets, his wine, or where he loved. + +Thus then I saw, as I say, the slim tall figure, the dark hair, and the +proud eyes of Barbara Quinton; and the eyes were flashing in anger as +their owner turned away from--what I had not looked to see in Barbara's +company. This was another damsel, of lower stature and plumper figure, +dressed full as prettily as Barbara herself, and laughing with most +merry lips and under eyes that half hid themselves in an eclipse of +mirth. When Barbara saw me, she did not, as her custom was, feign not to +see me till I thrust my presence on her, but ran to me at once, crying +very indignantly, "Simon, who is this girl? She has dared to tell me +that my gown is of country make and hangs like an old smock on a +beanpole." + +"Mistress Barbara," I answered, "who heeds the make of the gown when the +wearer is of divine make?" I was young then, and did not know that to +compliment herself at the expense of her apparel is not the best way to +please a woman. + +"You are silly," said Barbara. "Who is she?" + +"The girl," said I, crestfallen, "is, they tell me, from London, and she +lodges with her mother in your gardener's cottage. But I didn't look to +find her here in the avenue." + +"You shall not again if I have my way," said Barbara. Then she added +abruptly and sharply, "Why do you look at her?" + +Now, it was true that I was looking at the stranger, and on Barbara's +question I looked the harder. + +"She is mighty pretty," said I. "Does she not seem so to you, Mistress +Barbara?" And, simple though I was, I spoke not altogether in +simplicity. + +"Pretty?" echoed Barbara. "And pray what do you know of prettiness, +Master Simon?" + +"What I have learnt at Quinton Manor," I answered, with a bow. + +"That doesn't prove her pretty," retorted the angry lady. + +"There's more than one way of it," said I discreetly, and I took a step +towards the visitor, who stood some ten yards from us, laughing still +and plucking a flower to pieces in her fingers. + +"She isn't known to you?" asked Barbara, perceiving my movement. + +"I can remedy that," said I, smiling. + +Never since the world began had youth been a more faithful servant to +maid than I to Barbara Quinton. Yet because, if a man lie down, the best +of girls will set her pretty foot on his neck, and also from my love of +a thing that is new, I was thoroughly resolved to accost the gardener's +guest; and my purpose was not altered by Barbara's scornful toss of her +little head as she turned away. + +"It is no more than civility," I protested, "to ask after her health, +for, coming from London, she can but just have escaped the plague." + +Barbara tossed her head again, declaring plainly her opinion of my +excuse. + +"But if you desire me to walk with you----" I began. + +"There is nothing I thought of less," she interrupted. "I came here to +be alone." + +"My pleasure lies in obeying you," said I, and I stood bareheaded while +Barbara, without another glance at me, walked off towards the house. +Half penitent, yet wholly obstinate, I watched her go; she did not once +look over her shoulder. Had she--but a truce to that. What passed is +enough; with what might have, my story would stretch to the world's end. +I smothered my remorse, and went up to the stranger, bidding her +good-day in my most polite and courtly manner; she smiled, but at what I +knew not. She seemed little more than a child, sixteen years old or +seventeen at the most, yet there was no confusion in her greeting of me. +Indeed, she was most marvellously at her ease, for, on my salute, she +cried, lifting her hands in feigned amazement, + +"A man, by my faith; a man in this place!" + +Well pleased to be called a man, I bowed again. + +"Or at least," she added, "what will be one, if it please Heaven." + +"You may live to see it without growing wrinkled," said I, striving to +conceal my annoyance. + +"And one that has repartee in him! Oh, marvellous!" + +"We do not all lack wit in the country, madame," said I, simpering as I +supposed the Court gallants to simper, "nor, since the plague came to +London, beauty." + +"Indeed, it's wonderful," she cried in mock admiration. "Do they teach +such sayings hereabouts, sir?" + +"Even so, madame, and from such books as your eyes furnish." And for all +her air of mockery, I was, as I remember, much pleased with this speech. +It had come from some well-thumbed romance, I doubt not. I was always an +eager reader of such silly things. + +She curtseyed low, laughing up at me with roguish eyes and mouth. + +"Now, surely, sir," she said, "you must be Simon Dale, of whom my host +the gardener speaks?" + +"It is my name, madame, at your service. But the gardener has played me +a trick; for now I have nothing to give in exchange for your name." + +"Nay, you have a very pretty nosegay in your hand," said she. "I might +be persuaded to barter my name for it." + +The nosegay that was in my hand I had gathered and brought for Barbara +Quinton, and I still meant to use it as a peace-offering. But Barbara +had treated me harshly, and the stranger looked longingly at the +nosegay. + +"The gardener is a niggard with his flowers," she said with a coaxing +smile. + +"To confess the truth," said I, wavering in my purpose, "the nosegay was +plucked for another." + +"It will smell the sweeter," she cried, with a laugh. "Nothing gives +flowers such a perfume." And she held out a wonderfully small hand +towards my nosegay. + +"Is that a London lesson?" I asked, holding the flowers away from her +grasp. + +"It holds good in the country also, sir; wherever, indeed, there is a +man to gather flowers and more than one lady who loves smelling them." + +"Well," said I, "the nosegay is yours at the price," and I held it out +to her. + +"The price? What, you desire to know my name?" + +"Unless, indeed, I may call you one of my own choosing," said I, with a +glance that should have been irresistible. + +"Would you use it in speaking of me to Mistress Barbara there? No, I'll +give you a name to call me by. You may call me Cydaria." + +"Cydaria! A fine name!" + +"It is," said she carelessly, "as good as any other." + +"But is there no other to follow it?" + +"When did a poet ask two names to head his sonnet? And surely you wanted +mine for a sonnet?" + +"So be it, Cydaria," said I. + +"So be it, Simon. And is not Cydaria as pretty as Barbaria?" + +"It has a strange sound," said I, "but it's well enough." + +"And now--the nosegay!" + +"I must pay a reckoning for this," I sighed; but since a bargain is a +bargain I gave her the nosegay. + +She took it, her face all alight with smiles, and buried her nose in it. +I stood looking at her, caught by her pretty ways and graceful boldness. +Boy though I was, I had been right in telling her that there are many +ways of beauty; here were two to start with, hers and Barbara's. She +looked up and, finding my gaze on her, made a little grimace as though +it were only what she had expected and gave her no more concern than +pleasure. Yet at such a look Barbara would have turned cold and distant +for an hour or more. Cydaria, smiling in scornful indulgence, dropped me +another mocking curtsey, and made as though she would go her way. Yet +she did not go, but stood with her head half-averted, a glance straying +towards me from the corner of her eye, while with her tiny foot she dug +the gravel of the avenue. + +"It is a lovely place, this park," said she. "But, indeed, it's often +hard to find the way about it." + +I was not backward to take her hint. + +"If you had a guide now----" I began. + +"Why, yes, if I had a guide, Simon," she whispered gleefully. + +"You could find the way, Cydaria, and your guide would be most----" + +"Most charitably engaged. But then----" She paused, drooping the corners +of her mouth in sudden despondency. + +"But what then?" + +"Why then, Mistress Barbara would be alone." + +I hesitated. I glanced towards the house. I looked at Cydaria. + +"She told me that she wished to be alone," said I. + +"No? How did she say it?" + +"I will tell you all about that as we go along," said I, and Cydaria +laughed again. + + + + +CHAPTER II + +THE WAY OF YOUTH + + +The debate is years old; not indeed quite so old as the world, since +Adam and Eve cannot, for want of opportunity, have fallen out over it, +yet descending to us from unknown antiquity. But it has never been set +at rest by general consent: the quarrel over Passive Obedience is +nothing to it. It seems such a small matter though; for the debate I +mean turns on no greater question than this: may a man who owns +allegiance to one lady justify by any train of reasoning his conduct in +snatching a kiss from another, this other being (for it is important to +have the terms right) not (so far as can be judged) unwilling? I +maintained that he might; to be sure, my position admitted of no other +argument, and, for the most part, it is a man's state which determines +his arguments and not his reasons that induce his state. Barbara +declared that he could not; though, to be sure, it was, as she added +most promptly, no concern of hers; for she cared not whether I were in +love or not, nor how deeply, nor with whom, nor, in a word, anything at +all about the matter. It was an abstract opinion she gave, so far as +love, or what men chose to call such, might be involved; as to +seemliness, she must confess that she had her view, with which, may be, +Mr Dale was not in agreement. The girl at the gardener's cottage must, +she did not doubt, agree wholly with Mr Dale; how otherwise would she +have suffered the kiss in an open space in the park, where anybody might +pass--and where, in fact (by the most perverse chance in the world), +pretty Mistress Barbara herself passed at the moment when the thing +occurred? However, if the matter could ever have had the smallest +interest for her--save in so far as it touched the reputation of the +village and might afford an evil example to the village maidens--it +could have none at all now, seeing that she set out the next day to +London, to take her place as Maid of Honour to Her Royal Highness the +Duchess, and would have as little leisure as inclination to think of Mr +Simon Dale or of how he chose to amuse himself when he believed that +none was watching. Not that she had watched: her presence was the purest +and most unwelcome chance. Yet she could not but be glad to hear that +the girl was soon to go back whence she came, to the great relief (she +was sure) of Madame Dale and of her dear friends Lucy and Mary; to her +love for whom nothing--no, nothing--should make any difference. For the +girl herself she wished no harm, but she conceived that her mother must +be ill at ease concerning her. + +It will be allowed that Mistress Barbara had the most of the argument if +not the best. Indeed, I found little to say, except that the village +would be the worse by so much as the Duchess of York was the better for +Mistress Barbara's departure; the civility won me nothing but the +haughtiest curtsey and a taunt. + +"Must you rehearse your pretty speeches on me before you venture them on +your friends, sir?" she asked. + +"I am at your mercy, Mistress Barbara," I pleaded. "Are we to part +enemies?" + +She made me no answer, but I seemed to see a softening in her face as +she turned away towards the window, whence were to be seen the stretch +of the lawn and the park-meadows beyond. I believe that with a little +more coaxing she would have pardoned me, but at the instant, by another +stroke of perversity, a small figure sauntered across the sunny fields. +The fairest sights may sometimes come amiss. + +"Cydaria! A fine name!" said Barbara, with curling lip. "I'll wager she +has reasons for giving no other." + +"Her mother gives another to the gardener," I reminded her meekly. + +"Names are as easy given as--as kisses!" she retorted. "As for Cydaria, +my lord says it is a name out of a play." + +All this while we had stood at the window, watching Cydaria's light feet +trip across the meadow, and her bonnet swing wantonly in her hand. But +now Cydaria disappeared among the trunks of the beech trees. + +"See, she has gone," said I in a whisper. "She is gone, Mistress +Barbara." + +Barbara understood what I would say, but she was resolved to show me no +gentleness. The soft tones of my voice had been for her, but she would +not accept their homage. + +"You need not sigh for that before my face," said she. "And yet, sigh if +you will. What is it to me? But she is not gone far, and, doubtless, +will not run too fast when you pursue." + +"When you are in London," said I, "you will think with remorse how ill +you used me." + +"I shall never think of you at all. Do you forget that there are +gentlemen of wit and breeding at the Court?" + +"The devil fly away with every one of them!" cried I suddenly, not +knowing then how well the better part of them would match their escort. + +Barbara turned to me; there was a gleam of triumph in the depths of her +dark eyes. + +"Perhaps when you hear of me at Court," she cried, "you'll be sorry to +think how----" + +But she broke off suddenly, and looked out of the window. + +"You'll find a husband there," I suggested bitterly. + +"Like enough," said she carelessly. + +To be plain, I was in no happy mood. Her going grieved me to the heart, +and that she should go thus incensed stung me yet more. I was jealous of +every man in London town. Had not my argument, then, some reason in it +after all? + +"Fare-you-well, madame," said I, with a heavy frown and a sweeping bow. +No player from the Lane could have been more tragic. + +"Fare-you-well, sir. I will not detain you, for you have, I know, other +farewells to make." + +"Not for a week yet!" I cried, goaded to a show of exultation that +Cydaria stayed so long. + +"I don't doubt that you'll make good use of the time," she said, as with +a fine dignity she waved me to the door. Girl as she was, she had caught +or inherited the grand air that great ladies use. + +Gloomily I passed out, to fall into the hands of my lord, who was +walking on the terrace. He caught me by the arm, laughing in +good-humoured mockery. + +"You've had a touch of sentiment, eh, you rogue?" said he. "Well, +there's little harm in that, since the girl leaves us to-morrow." + +"Indeed, my lord, there was little harm," said I, long-faced and rueful. +"As little as my lady herself could wish." (At this he smiled and +nodded.) "Mistress Barbara will hardly so much as look at me." + +He grew graver, though the smile still hung about his lips. + +"They gossip about you in the village, Simon," said he. "Take a friend's +counsel, and don't be so much with the lady at the cottage. Come, I +don't speak without reason." He nodded at me as a man nods who means +more than he will say. Indeed, not a word more would he say, so that +when I left him I was even more angry than when I parted from his +daughter. And, the nature of man being such as Heaven has made it, what +need to say that I bent my steps to the cottage with all convenient +speed? The only weapon of an ill-used lover (nay, I will not argue the +merits of the case again) was ready to my hand. + +Yet my impatience availed little; for there, on the seat that stood by +the door, sat my good friend the Vicar, discoursing in pleasant leisure +with the lady who named herself Cydaria. + +"It is true," he was saying. "I fear it is true, though you're over +young to have learnt it." + +"There are schools, sir," she returned, with a smile that had (or so it +seemed to me) a touch--no more--of bitterness in it, "where such lessons +are early learnt." + +"They are best let alone, those schools," said he. + +"And what's the lesson?" I asked, drawing nearer. + +Neither answered. The Vicar rested his hands on the ball of his cane, +and suddenly began to relate old Betty Nasroth's prophecy to his +companion. I cannot tell what led his thoughts to it, but it was never +far from his mind when I was by. She listened with attention, smiling +brightly in whimsical amusement when the fateful words, pronounced with +due solemnity, left the Vicar's lips. + +"It is a strange saying," he ended, "of which time alone can show the +truth." + +She glanced at me with merry eyes, yet with a new air of interest. It is +strange the hold these superstitions have on all of us; though surely +future ages will outgrow such childishness. + +"I don't know what the prophecy means," said she; "yet one thing at +least would seem needful for its fulfilment--that Mr Dale should become +acquainted with the King." + +"True!" cried the Vicar eagerly. "Everything stands on that, and on that +we stick. For Simon cannot love where the King loves, nor know what the +King hides, nor drink of the King's cup, if he abide all his days here +in Hatchstead. Come, Simon, the plague is gone!" + +"Should I then be gone too?" I asked. "But to what end? I have no +friends in London who would bring me to the notice of the King." + +The Vicar shook his head sadly. I had no such friends, and the King had +proved before now that he could forget many a better friend to the +throne than my dear father's open mind had made of him. + +"We must wait, we must wait still," said the Vicar. "Time will find a +friend." + +Cydaria had become pensive for a moment, but she looked up now, smiling +again, and said to me: + +"You'll soon have a friend in London." + +Thinking of Barbara, I answered gloomily, "She's no friend of mine." + +"I did not mean whom you mean," said Cydaria, with twinkling eyes and +not a whit put out. "But I also am going to London." + +I smiled, for it did not seem as though she would be a powerful friend, +or able to open any way for me. But she met my smile with another so +full of confidence and challenge that my attention was wholly caught, +and I did not heed the Vicar's farewell as he rose and left us. + +"And would you serve me," I asked, "if you had the power?" + +"Nay, put the question as you think it," said she. "Would you have the +power to serve me if you had the will? Is not that the doubt in your +mind?" + +"And if it were?" + +"Then, indeed, I do not know how to answer; but strange things happen +there in London, and it may be that some day even I should have some +power." + +"And you would use it for me?" + +"Could I do less on behalf of a gentleman who has risked his mistress's +favour for my poor cheek's sake?" And she fell to laughing again, her +mirth growing greater as I turned red in the face. "You mustn't blush +when you come to town," she cried, "or they'll make a ballad on you, and +cry you in the streets for a monster." + +"The oftener comes the cause, the rarer shall the effect be," said I. + +"The excuse is well put," she conceded. "We should make a wit of you in +town." + +"What do you in town?" I asked squarely, looking her full in the eyes. + +"Perhaps, sometimes," she laughed, "what I have done once--and to your +good knowledge--since I came to the country." + +Thus she would baffle me with jesting answers as often as I sought to +find out who and what she was. Nor had I better fortune with her mother, +for whom I had small liking, and who had, as it seemed, no more for me. +For she was short in her talk, and frowned to see me with her daughter. +Yet she saw me, I must confess, often with Cydaria in the next days, and +I was often with Cydaria when she did not see me. For Barbara was gone, +leaving me both sore and lonely, all in the mood to find comfort where I +could, and to see manliness in desertion; and there was a charm about +the girl that grew on me insensibly and without my will until I came to +love, not her (as I believed, forgetting that Love loves not to mark his +boundaries too strictly) but her merry temper, her wit and cheerfulness. +Moreover, these things were mingled and spiced with others, more +attractive than all to unfledged youth, an air of the world and a +knowledge of life which piqued my curiosity and sat (it seems so even to +my later mind as I look back) with bewitching incongruity on the +laughing child's face and the unripe grace of girlhood. Her moods were +endless, vying with one another in an ever undetermined struggle for the +prize of greatest charm. For the most part she was merry, frank mirth +passing into sly raillery; now and then she would turn sad, sighing, +"Heigho, that I could stay in the sweet innocent country!" Or again she +would show or ape an uneasy conscience, whispering, "Ah, that I were +like your Mistress Barbara!" The next moment she would be laughing and +jesting and mocking, as though life were nought but a great +many-coloured bubble, and she the brightest-tinted gleam on it. + +Are women so constant and men so forgetful, that all sympathy must go +from me and all esteem be forfeited because, being of the age of +eighteen years, I vowed to live for one lady only on a Monday and was +ready to die for another on the Saturday? Look back; bow your heads, and +give me your hands, to kiss or to clasp! + + Let not you and I inquire + What has been our past desire, + On what shepherds you have smiled, + Or what nymphs I have beguiled; + Leave it to the planets too + What we shall hereafter do; + For the joys we now may prove, + Take advice of present love. + +Nay, I will not set my name to that in its fulness; Mr Waller is a +little too free for one who has been nicknamed a Puritan to follow him +to the end. Yet there is a truth in it. Deny it, if you will. You are +smiling, madame, while you deny. + +It was a golden summer's evening when I, to whom the golden world was +all a hell, came by tryst to the park of Quinton Manor, there to bid +Cydaria farewell. Mother and sisters had looked askance at me, the +village gossiped, even the Vicar shook a kindly head. What cared I? By +Heaven, why was one man a nobleman and rich, while another had no money +in his purse and but one change to his back? Was not love all in all, +and why did Cydaria laugh at a truth so manifest? There she was under +the beech tree, with her sweet face screwed up to a burlesque of grief, +her little hand lying on her hard heart as though it beat for me, and +her eyes the playground of a thousand quick expressions. I strode up to +her, and caught her by the hand, saying no more than just her name, +"Cydaria." It seemed that there was no more to say; yet she cried, +laughing and reproachful, "Have you no vows for me? Must I go without my +tribute?" + +I loosed her hand and stood away from her. On my soul, I could not +speak. I was tongue-tied, dumb as a dog. + +"When you come courting in London," she said, "you must not come so +empty of lover's baggage. There ladies ask vows, and protestations, and +despair, ay, and poetry, and rhapsodies, and I know not what." + +"Of all these I have nothing but despair," said I. + +"Then you make a sad lover," she pouted. "And I am glad to be going +where lovers are less woebegone." + +"You look for lovers in London?" I cried, I that had cried to +Barbara--well, I have said my say on that. + +"If Heaven send them," answered Cydaria. + +"And you will forget me?" + +"In truth, yes, unless you come yourself to remind me. I have no head +for absent lovers." + +"But if I come----" I began in a sudden flush of hope. + +She did not (though it was her custom) answer in raillery; she plucked a +leaf from the tree, and tore it with her fingers as she answered with a +curious glance. + +"Why, if you come, I think you'll wish that you had not come, unless, +indeed, you've forgotten me before you come." + +"Forget you! Never while I live! May I come, Cydaria?" + +"Most certainly, sir, so soon as your wardrobe and your purse allow. +Nay, don't be huffed. Come, Simon, sweet Simon, are we not friends, and +may not friends rally one another? No, and if I choose, I will put my +hand through your arm. Indeed, sir, you're the first gentleman that ever +thrust it away. See, it is there now! Doesn't it look well there, +Simon--and feel well there, Simon?" She looked up into my face in +coaxing apology for the hurt she had given me, and yet still with +mockery of my tragic airs. "Yes, you must by all means come to London," +she went on, patting my arm. "Is not Mistress Barbara in London? And I +think--am I wrong, Simon?--that there is something for which you will +want to ask her pardon." + +"If I come to London, it is for you and you only that I shall come," I +cried. + +"No, no. You will come to love where the King loves, to know what he +hides, and to drink of his cup. I, sir, cannot interfere with your great +destiny"; she drew away from me, curtseyed low, and stood opposite to +me, smiling. + +"For you and for you only," I repeated. + +"Then will the King love me?" she asked. + +"God forbid," said I fervently. + +"Oh, and why, pray, your 'God forbid'? You're very ready with your 'God +forbids.' Am I then to take your love sooner than the King's, Master +Simon?" + +"Mine is an honest love," said I soberly. + +"Oh, I should doat on the country, if everybody didn't talk of his +honesty there! I have seen the King in London and he is a fine +gentleman." + +"And you have seen the Queen also, may be?" + +"In truth, yes. Ah, I have shocked you, Simon? Well, I was wrong. Come, +we're in the country; we'll be good. But when we've made a townsman of +you, we'll--we will be what they are in town. Moreover, in ten minutes I +am going home, and it would be hard if I also left you in anger. You +shall have a pleasanter memory of my going than Mistress Barbara's gave +you." + +"How shall I find you when I come to town?" + +"Why, if you will ask any gentleman you meet whether he chances to +remember Cydaria, you will find me as soon as it is well you should." + +I prayed her to tell me more; but she was resolved to tell no more. + +"See, it is late. I go," said she. Then suddenly she came near to me. +"Poor Simon," she said softly. "Yet it is good for you, Simon. Some day +you will be amused at this, Simon"; she spoke as though she were fifty +years older than I. My answer lay not in words or arguments. I caught +her in my arms and kissed her. She struggled, yet she laughed. It shot +through my mind then that Barbara would neither have struggled nor +laughed. But Cydaria laughed. + +Presently I let her go, and kneeling on my knee kissed her hand very +humbly, as though she had been what Barbara was. If she were not--and I +knew not what she was--yet should my love exalt her and make a throne +whereon she might sit a Queen. My new posture brought a sudden gravity +to her face, and she bent over me with a smile that seemed now tender +and almost sorrowful. + +"Poor Simon, poor Simon," she whispered. "Kiss my hand now; kiss it as +though I were fit for worship. It will do you no harm, and--and +perhaps--perhaps I shall like to remember it." She bent down and kissed +my forehead as I knelt before her. "Poor Simon," she whispered, as her +hair brushed mine. Then her hand was gradually and gently withdrawn. I +looked up to see her face; her lips were smiling but there seemed a dew +on her lashes. She laughed, and the laugh ended in a little gasp, as +though a sob had fought with it. And she cried out loud, her voice +ringing clear among the trees in the still evening air. + +"That ever I should be so sore a fool!" + +Then she turned and left me, running swiftly over the grass, with never +a look behind her. I watched till she was out of sight, and then sat +down on the ground; with twitching lips and wide-open dreary eyes. + +Ah, for youth's happiness! Alas for its dismal woe! Thus she came into +my life. + + + + +CHAPTER III + +THE MUSIC OF THE WORLD + + +If a philosopher, learned in the human mind as Flamsteed in the courses +of the stars or the great Newton in the laws of external nature, were to +take one possessed by a strong passion of love or a bitter grief, or +what overpowering emotion you will, and were to consider impartially and +with cold precision what share of his time was in reality occupied by +the thing which, as we are in the habit of saying, filled his thoughts +or swayed his life or mastered his intellect, the world might well smile +(and to my thinking had better smile than weep) at the issue of the +investigation. When the first brief shock was gone, how few out of the +solid twenty-four would be the hours claimed by the despot, however much +the poets might call him insatiable. There is sleeping, and meat and +drink, the putting on and off of raiment and the buying of it. If a man +be of sound body, there is his sport; if he be sane, there are the +interests of this life and provision for the next. And if he be young, +there is nature's own joy in living, which with a patient scornful smile +sets aside his protest that he is vowed to misery, and makes him, +willy-nilly, laugh and sing. So that, if he do not drown himself in a +week and thereby balk the inquiry, it is odds that he will compose +himself in a month, and by the end of a year will carry no more marks of +his misfortune than (if he be a man of good heart) an added sobriety and +tenderness of spirit. Yet all this does not hinder the thing from +returning, on occasion given. + +In my own case--and, if my story be followed to its close, I am +persuaded that I shall not be held to be one who took the disease of +love more lightly than my fellows--this process of convalescence, most +salutary, yet in a sense humiliating, was aided by a train of +circumstances, in which my mother saw the favour of Heaven to our family +and the Vicar the working of Betty Nasroth's prophecy. An uncle of my +mother's had some forty years ago established a manufactory of wool at +Norwich, and having kept always before his eyes the truth that men must +be clothed, howsoever they may think on matters of Church and State, and +that it is a cloth-weaver's business to clothe them and not to think for +them, had lived a quiet life through all the disturbances and had +prospered greatly in his trade. For marriage either time or inclination +had failed him, and, being now an old man, he felt a favourable +disposition towards me, and declared the intention of making me heir to +a considerable portion of his fortune provided that I showed myself +worthy of such kindness. The proof he asked was not beyond reason, +though I found cause for great lamentation in it; for it was that, in +lieu of seeking to get to London, I should go to Norwich and live there +with him, to solace his last years and, although not engaged in his +trade, learn by observation something of the serious occupations of life +and of the condition of my fellow-men, of which things young gentlemen, +said he, were for the most part sadly ignorant. Indeed, they were, and +they thought no better of a companion for being wiser; to do anything or +know anything that might redound to the benefit of man or the honour of +God was not the mode in those days. Nor do I say that the fashion has +changed greatly, no, nor that it will change. Therefore to Norwich I +went, although reluctantly, and there I stayed fully three years, +applying myself to the comforting of my uncle's old age, and consoling +my leisure with the diversions which that great and important city +afforded, and which, indeed, were enough for any rational mind. But +reason and youth are bad bedfellows, and all the while I was like the +Israelites in the wilderness; my thoughts were set upon the Promised +Land and I endured my probation hardly. To this mood I set down the fact +that little of my life at Norwich lives in my memory, and to that little +I seldom recur in thought; the time before it and the time after engross +my backward glances. The end came with my uncle's death, whereat I, the +recipient of great kindness from him, sincerely grieved, and that with +some remorse, since I had caused him sorrow by refusing to take up his +occupation as my own, preferring my liberty and a moderate endowment to +all his fortune saddled with the condition of passing my days as a +cloth-weaver. Had I chosen otherwise, I should have lived a more +peaceful and died a richer man. Yet I do not repent; not riches nor +peace, but the stir of the blood, the work of the hand, and the service +of the brain make a life that a man can look back on without shame and +with delight. + +I was nearing my twenty-second birthday when I returned to Hatchstead +with an air and manner, I doubt not, sadly provincial, but with a lining +to my pocket for whose sake many a gallant would have surrendered some +of his plumes and feathers. Three thousand pounds, invested in my +uncle's business and returning good and punctual profit made of Simon +Dale a person of far greater importance in the eyes of his family than +he had been three years ago. It was a competence on which a gentleman +could live with discretion and modesty, it was a step from which his +foot could rise higher on life's ladder. London was in my power, all it +held of promise and possibility was not beyond the flight of my soaring +mind. My sisters exchanged sharp admonitions for admiring deference, and +my mother feared nothing save that the great place to which I was now +surely destined might impair the homely virtues which she had instilled +into me. As for the Vicar, he stroked his nose and glanced at me with +an eye which spoke so plainly of Betty Nasroth that I fell to laughing +heartily. + +Thus, being in great danger of self-exaltation, I took the best medicine +that I could--although by no means with intention--in waiting on my lord +Quinton, who was then residing at the Manor. Here my swelled spirit was +smartly pricked, and sank soon to its true proportions. I was no great +man here, and although my lord received me very kindly, he had less to +say on the richness of my fortune than on the faults of my manner and +the rustic air of my attire. Yet he bade me go to London, since there a +man, rubbing shoulders with all the world, learnt to appraise his own +value, and lost the ignorant conceit of himself that a village greatness +is apt to breed. Somewhat crestfallen, I thanked him for his kindness, +and made bold to ask after Mistress Barbara. + +"She is well enough," he answered, smiling. "And she is become a great +lady. The wits make epigrams on her, and the fools address verses to +her. But she's a good girl, Simon." + +"I'm sure of it, my lord," I cried. + +"He's a bold man who would be sure of it concerning anyone nowadays," he +said dryly. "Yet so, thank God, it is. See, here's a copy of the verses +she had lately," and he flung me the paper. I glanced over it and saw +much about "dazzling ice," "unmelting snow," "Venus," "Diana," and so +forth. + +"It seems sad stuff, my lord," said I. + +"Why, yes," he laughed; "but it is by a gentle man of repute. Take care +you write none worse, Simon." + +"Shall I have the honour of waiting on Mistress Barbara, my lord?" I +asked. + +"As to that, Simon, we will see when you come. Yes, we must see what +company you keep. For example, on whom else do you think of waiting when +you are set up in London?" + +He looked steadily at me, a slight frown on his brow, yet a smile, and +not an unkind one, on his lips. I grew hot, and knew that I grew red +also. + +"I am acquainted with few in London, my lord," I stammered, "and with +those not well." + +"Those not well, indeed," he echoed, the pucker deepening and the smile +vanishing. Yet the smile came again as he rose and clapped me on the +shoulder. + +"You're an honest lad, Simon," he said, "even though it may have pleased +God to make you a silly one. And, by Heaven, who would have all lads +wise? Go to London, learn to know more folk, learn to know better those +whom you know. Bear yourself as a gentleman, and remember, Simon, +whatsoever else the King may be, yet he is the King." + +Saying this with much emphasis, he led me gently to the door. + +"Why did he say that about the King?" I pondered as I walked homeward +through the park; for although what we all, even in the country, knew of +the King gave warrant enough for the words, my lord had seemed to speak +them to me with some special meaning, and as though they concerned me +more than most men. Yet what, if I left aside Betty's foolish talk, as +my lord surely did, had I to do with the King, or with what he might be +besides the King? + +About this time much stir had been aroused in the country by the +dismissal from all his offices of that great Minister and accomplished +writer, the Earl of Clarendon, and by the further measures which his +enemies threatened against him. The village elders were wont to assemble +on the days when the post came in and discuss eagerly the news brought +from London. The affairs of Government troubled my head very little, but +in sheer idleness I used often to join them, wondering to see them so +perturbed at the happening of things which made mighty little difference +in our retired corner. Thus I was in the midst of them, at the King and +Crown Tavern, on the Green, two days after I had talked with my lord +Quinton. I sat with a mug of ale before me, engrossed in my own thoughts +and paying little heed to what passed, when, to my amazement, the +postman, leaping from his horse, came straight across to me, holding out +in his hand a large packet of important appearance. To receive a letter +was a rare event in my life, and a rarer followed, setting the cap on +my surprise. For the man, though he was fully ready to drink my health, +demanded no money for the letter, saying that it came on the service of +His Majesty and was not chargeable. He spoke low enough, and there was a +babble about, but it seemed as though the name of the King made its way +through all the hubbub to the Vicar's ears; for he rose instantly, and, +stepping to my side, sat down by me, crying, + +"What said he of the King, Simon?" + +"Why, he said," I answered, "that this great letter comes to me on the +King's service, and that I have nothing to pay for it," and I turned it +over and over in my hands. But the inscription was plain enough. "To +Master Simon Dale, Esquire, at Hatchstead, by Hatfield." + +By this time half the company was round us, and my Lord Clarendon +well-nigh forgotten. Small things near are greater than great things +afar, and at Hatchstead my affairs were of more moment than the fall of +a Chancellor or the King's choice of new Ministers. A cry arose that I +should open my packet and disclose what it contained. + +"Nay," said the Vicar, with an air of importance, "it may be on a +private matter that the King writes." + +They would have believed that of my lord at the Manor, they could not of +Simon Dale. The Vicar met their laughter bravely. + +"But the King and Simon are to have private matters between them one +day," he cried, shaking his fist at the mockers, himself half in +mockery. + +Meanwhile I opened my packet and read. To this day the amazement its +contents bred in me is fresh. For the purport was that the King, +remembering my father's services to the King's father (and forgetting, +as it seemed, those done to General Cromwell), and being informed of my +own loyal disposition, courage, and good parts, had been graciously +pleased to name me to a commission in His Majesty's Regiment of Life +Guards, such commission being post-dated six months from the day of +writing, in order that Mr Dale should have the leisure to inform himself +of his duties and fit himself for his post; to which end it was the +King's further pleasure that Mr Dale should present himself, bringing +this same letter with him, without delay at Whitehall, and there be +instructed in his drill and in all other matters necessary for him to +know. Thus the letter ended, with a commendation of me to the care of +the Almighty. + +I sat, gasping; the gossips gaped round me; the Vicar seemed stunned. At +last somebody grumbled, + +"I do not love these Guards. What need of guard has the King except in +the love of his subjects?" + +"So his father found, did he?" cried the Vicar, an aflame in a moment. + +"The Life Guards!" I murmured. "It is the first regiment of all in +honour." + +"Ay, my lad," said the Vicar. "It would have been well enough for you to +serve in the ranks of it, but to hold His Majesty's Commission!" Words +failed him, and he flew to the landlord's snuff-box, which that good +man, moved by subtle sympathy, held out, pat to the occasion. + +Suddenly those words of my lord's that had at the time of their +utterance caught my attention so strongly flashed into my mind, seeming +now to find their explanation. If there were fault to be found in the +King, it did not lie with his own servants and officers to find it; I +was now of his household; my lord must have known what was on the way to +me from London when he addressed me so pointedly; and he could know only +because he had himself been the mover in the matter. I sprang up and ran +across to the Vicar, crying, + +"Why, it is my lord's kindness! He has spoken for me." + +"Ay, ay, it is my lord," was grunted and nodded round the circle in the +satisfaction of a discovery obvious so soon as made. The Vicar alone +dissented; he took another pinch and wagged his head petulantly. + +"I don't think it's my lord," said he. + +"But why not, sir, and who else?" I urged. + +"I don't know, but I do not think it is my lord," he persisted. + +Then I laughed at him, and he understood well that I mocked his dislike +of a plain-sailing everyday account of anything to which it might be +possible by hook or crook to attach a tag of mystery. He had harped back +to the prophecy, and would not have my lord come between him and his +hobby. + +"You may laugh, Simon," said he gravely. "But it will be found to be as +I say." + +I paid no more heed to him, but caught up my hat from the bench, crying +that I must run at once and offer thanks to my lord, for he was to set +out for London that day, and would be gone if I did not hasten. + +"At least," conceded the Vicar, "you will do no harm by telling him. He +will wonder as much as we." + +Laughing again, I ran off and left the company crowding to a man round +the stubborn Vicar. It was well indeed that I did not linger, for, +having come to the Manor at my best speed, I found my lord's coach +already at the door and himself in cloak and hat about to step into it. +But he waited to hear my breathless story, and, when I came to the pith +of it, snatched my letter from my hand and read it eagerly. At first I +thought he was playing a part and meant only to deny his kindness or +delay the confession of it. His manner soon undeceived me; he was in +truth amazed, as the Vicar had predicted, but more than that, he was, if +I read his face aright, sorely displeased also; for a heavy frown +gathered on his brow, and he walked with me in utter silence the better +half of the length of the terrace. + +"I have nothing to do with it," he said bitterly. "I and my family have +done the King and his too much service to have the giving away of +favours. Kings do not love their creditors, no, nor pay them." + +"But, my lord, I can think of no other friend who would have such +power." + +"Can't you?" he asked, stopping and laying his hand on my shoulder. "May +be, Simon, you don't understand how power is come by in these days, nor +what are the titles to the King's confidence." + +His words and manner dashed my new pride, and I suppose my face grew +glum, for he went on more gently, + +"Nay, lad, since it comes, take it without question. Whatever the source +of it, your own conduct may make it an honour." + +But I could not be content with that. + +"The letter says," I remarked, "that the King is mindful of my father's +services." + +"I had thought that the age of miracles was past," smiled my lord. +"Perhaps it is not, Simon." + +"Then if it be not for my father's sake nor for yours, my lord, I am at +a loss," and I stuffed the letter into my pocket very peevishly. + +"I must be on my way," said my lord, turning towards the coach. "Let me +hear from you when you come, Simon; and I suppose you will come soon +now. You will find me at my house in Southampton Square, and my lady +will be glad of your company." + +I thanked him for his civility, but my face was still clouded. He had +seemed to suspect and hint at some taint in the fountain of honour that +had so unexpectedly flowed forth. + +"I can't tell what to make of it," I cried. + +He stopped again, as he was about to set his foot on the step of his +coach, and turned, facing me squarely. + +"There's no other friend at all in London, Simon?" he asked. Again I +grew red, as he stood watching me. "Is there not one other?" + +I collected myself as well as I could and answered, + +"One that would give me a commission in the Life Guards, my lord?" And I +laughed in scorn. + +My lord shrugged his shoulders and mounted into the coach. I closed the +door behind him, and stood waiting his reply. He leant forward and spoke +across me to the lackey behind, saying, "Go on, go on." + +"What do you mean, my lord?" I cried. He smiled, but did not speak. The +coach began to move; I had to walk to keep my place, soon I should have +to run. + +"My lord," I cried, "how could she----?" + +My lord took out his snuff-box, and opened it. + +"Nay, I cannot tell how," said he, as he carried his thumb to his nose. + +"My lord," I cried, running now, "do you know who Cydaria is?" + +My lord looked at me, as I ran panting. Soon I should have to give in, +for the horses made merry play down the avenue. He seemed to wait for +the last moment of my endurance, before he answered. Then, waving his +hand at the window, he said, "All London knows." And with that he shut +the window, and I fell back breathless, amazed, and miserably chagrined. +For he had told me nothing of all that I desired to know, and what he +had told me did no more than inflame my curiosity most unbearably. Yet, +if it were true, this mysterious lady, known to all London, had +remembered Simon Dale! A man of seventy would have been moved by such a +thing; what wonder that a boy of twenty-two should run half mad with it? + +Strange to say, it seemed to the Vicar's mind no more unlikely and +infinitely more pleasant that the King's favour should be bound up with +the lady we had called Cydaria than that it should be the plain fruit of +my lord's friendly offices. Presently his talk infected me with +something of the same spirit, and we fell to speculating on the identity +of this lady, supposing in our innocence that she must be of very +exalted rank and noble station if indeed all London knew her, and she +had a voice in the appointment of gentlemen to bear His Majesty's +Commission. It was but a step farther to discern for me a most notable +career, wherein the prophecy of Betty Nasroth should find fulfilment and +prove the link that bound together a chain of strange fortune and high +achievement. Thus our evening wore away and with it my vexation. Now I +was all eager to be gone, to set my hand to my work, to try Fate's +promises, and to learn that piece of knowledge which all London had--the +true name of her whom we called Cydaria. + +"Still," said the Vicar, falling into a sudden pensiveness as I rose to +take my leave, "there are things above fortune's favour, or a King's, or +a great lady's. To those cling, Simon, for your name's sake and for my +credit, who taught you." + +"True, sir," said I in perfunctory acknowledgment, but with errant +thoughts. "I trust, sir, that I shall always bear myself as becomes a +gentleman." + +"And a Christian," he added mildly. + +"Ay, sir, and a Christian," I agreed readily enough. + +"Go your way," he said, with a little smile. "I preach to ears that are +full now of other and louder sounds, of strains more attractive and +melodies more alluring. Therefore, now, you cannot listen; nay, I know +that, if you could, you would. Yet it may be that some day--if it be +God's will, soon--the strings that I feebly strike may sound loud and +clear, so that you must hear, however sweetly that other music charms +your senses. And if you hear, Simon, heed; if you hear, heed." + +Thus, with his blessing, I left him. He followed me to the door, with a +smile on his lips but anxiety in his eyes. I went on my way, never +looking back. For my ears were indeed filled with that strange and +enchanting music. + + + + +CHAPTER IV + +CYDARIA REVEALED + + +There, mounted on the coach at Hertford (for at last I am fairly on my +way, and may boast that I have made short work of my farewells), a +gentleman apparently about thirty years of age, tall, well-proportioned, +and with a thin face, clean-cut and high-featured. He was attended by a +servant whom he called Robert, a stout ruddy fellow, who was very jovial +with every post-boy and ostler on the road. The gentleman, being placed +next to me by the chance of our billets, lost no time in opening the +conversation, a step which my rustic backwardness would long have +delayed. He invited my confidence by a free display of his own, +informing me that he was attached to the household of Lord Arlington, +and was returning to London on his lordship's summons. For since his +patron had been called to the place of Secretary of State, he, Mr +Christopher Darrell (such was his name), was likely to be employed by +him in matters of trust, and thus fill a position which I must perceive +to be of some importance. All this was poured forth with wonderful +candour and geniality, and I, in response, opened to him my fortunes and +prospects, keeping back nothing save the mention of Cydaria. Mr Darrell +was, or affected to be, astonished to learn that I was a stranger to +London--my air smacked of the Mall and of no other spot in the world, he +swore most politely--but made haste to offer me his services, proposing +that, since Lord Arlington did not look for him that night, and he had +abandoned his former lodging, we should lodge together at an inn he +named in Covent Garden, when he could introduce me to some pleasant +company. I accepted his offer most eagerly. Then he fell to talking of +the Court, of the households of the King and the Duke, of Madame the +Duchess of Orleans, who was soon to come to England, they said (on what +business he did not know); next he spoke, although now with caution, of +persons no less well known but of less high reputation, referring +lightly to Lady Castlemaine and Eleanor Gwyn and others, while I +listened, half-scandalised, half-pleased. But I called him back by +asking whether he were acquainted with one of the Duchess's ladies named +Mistress Barbara Quinton. + +"Surely," he said. "There is no fairer lady at Court, and very few so +honest." + +I hurried to let him know that Mistress Barbara and I were old friends. +He laughed as he answered, + +"If you'd be more you must lose no time. It is impossible that she +should refuse many more suitors, and a nobleman of great estate is now +sighing for her so loudly as to be audible from Whitehall to Temple +Bar." + +I heard the news with interest, with pride, and with a touch of +jealousy; but at this time my own fortunes so engrossed me that soon I +harked back to them, and, taking my courage in both hands, was about to +ask my companion if he had chanced ever to hear of Cydaria, when he gave +a new turn to the talk, by asking carelessly, + +"You are a Churchman, sir, I suppose?" + +"Why, yes," I answered, with a smile, and perhaps a bit of a stare. +"What did you conceive me to be, sir?--a Ranter, or a Papist?" + +"Pardon, pardon, if you find offence in my question," he answered, +laughing. "There are many men who are one or the other, you know." + +"The country has learnt that to its sorrow," said I sturdily. + +"Ay," he said, in a dreamy way, "and maybe will learn it again." And +without more he fell to describing the famous regiment to which I was to +belong, adding at the end: + +"And if you like a brawl, the 'prentices in the City will always find +one for a gentleman of the King's Guards. Take a companion or two with +you when you walk east of Temple Bar. By the way, sir, if the question +may be pardoned, how came you by your commission? For we know that +merit, standing alone, stands generally naked also." + +I was much inclined to tell him all the story, but a shamefacedness came +over me. I did not know then how many owed all their advancement to a +woman's influence, and my manly pride disdained to own the obligation. I +put him off by a story of a friend who wished to remain unnamed, and, +after the feint of some indifferent talk, seized the chance of a short +silence to ask him my great question. + +"Pray, sir, have you ever heard of a lady who goes sometimes by the name +of Cydaria?" said I. I fear my cheek flushed a little, do what I could +to check such an exhibition of rawness. + +"Cydaria? Where have I heard that name? No, I know nobody--and yet----" +He paused; then, clapping his hand on his thigh, cried, "By my faith, +yes; I was sure I had heard it. It is a name from a play; from--from the +'Indian Emperor.' I think your lady must have been masquerading." + +"I thought as much," I nodded, concealing my disappointment. + +He looked at me a moment with some curiosity, but did not press me +further; and, since we had begun to draw near London, I soon had my mind +too full to allow me to think even of Cydaria. There is small profit in +describing what every man can remember for himself--his first sight of +the greatest city in the world, with its endless houses and swarming +people. It made me still and silent as we clattered along, and I forgot +my companion until I chanced to look towards him, and found an amused +glance fixed on my face. But, as we reached the City, he began to point +out where the fire had been, and how the task of rebuilding progressed. +Again wonder and anticipation grew on me. + +"Yes," said he, "it's a fine treasure-house for a man who can get the +key to it." + +Yet, amazed as I was, I would not have it supposed that I was altogether +an unlicked cub. My stay in Norwich, if it had not made me a Londoner, +had rubbed off some of the plough-mud from me, and I believe that my new +friend was not speaking wholly in idle compliment when he assured me +that I should hold my own very well. The first lesson I learnt was not +to show any wonder that I might feel, but to receive all that chanced as +though it were the most ordinary thing in the world; for this, beyond +all, is the hall-mark of your quality. Indeed, it was well that I was so +far fit to show my face, since I was to be plunged into the midst of the +stream with a suddenness which startled, although it could not displease +me. For the first beginning I was indebted to Mr Darrell, for what +followed to myself alone and a temper that has never been of the most +patient. + +We had reached our inn and refreshed ourselves, and I was standing +looking out on the evening and wondering at what time it was proper for +me to seek my bed when my friend entered with an eager air, and advanced +towards me, crying, + +"Dear sir, I hope your wardrobe is in order, for I am resolved to redeem +my word forthwith, and to-night to carry you with me to an +entertainment for which I have received an invitation. I am most anxious +for you to accompany me, as we shall meet many whom you should know." + +I was, of course, full of excuses, but he would admit of one only; and +that one I could not or would not make. For I had provided myself with a +neat and proper suit, of which I was very far from ashamed, and which, +when assumed by me and set off with a new cloak to match it, was +declared by Mr Darrell to be most apt for the occasion. + +"You lack nothing but a handsome cane," said he, "and that I can myself +provide. Come, let us call chairs and be gone, for it grows late +already." + +Our host that evening was Mr Jermyn, a gentleman in great repute at +Court, and he entertained us most handsomely at the New Spring Garden, +according to me a welcome of especial courtesy, that I might be at my +ease and feel no stranger among the company. He placed me on his left +hand, Darrell being on my other side, while opposite to me sat my lord +the Earl of Carford, a fine-looking man of thirty or a year or two +above. Among the guests Mr Darrell indicated several whose names were +known to me, such as the witty Lord Rochester and the French Ambassador, +M. de Cominges, a very stately gentleman. These, however, being at the +other end of the table, I made no acquaintance with them, and contented +myself with listening to the conversation of my neighbours, putting in a +word where I seemed able with propriety and without displaying an +ignorance of which I was very sensible. It seemed to me that Lord +Carford, to whom I had not been formally presented (indeed, all talked +to one another without ceremony) received what I said with more than +sufficient haughtiness and distance; but on Darrell whispering +humorously that he was a great lord, and held himself even greater than +he was, I made little of it, thinking my best revenge would be to give +him a lesson in courtesy. Thus all went well till we had finished eating +and sat sipping our wine. Then my Lord Carford, being a little +overheated with what he had drunk, began suddenly to inveigh against the +King with remarkable warmth and freedom, so that it seemed evident that +he smarted under some recent grievance. The raillery of our host, not +too nice or delicate, soon spurred him to a discovery of his complaint. +He asked nothing better than to be urged to a disclosure. + +"Neither rank, nor friendship, nor service," he said, smiting the table, +"are enough to gain the smallest favour from the King. All goes to the +women; they have but to ask to have. I prayed the King to give me for a +cousin of mine a place in the Life Guards that was to be vacant, and +he--by Heaven, he promised! Then comes Nell, and Nell wants it for a +friend--and Nell has it for a friend--and I go empty!" + +I had started when he spoke of the Life Guards, and sat now in a state +of great disturbance. Darrell also, as I perceived, was very uneasy, and +made a hasty effort to alter the course of the conversation; but Mr +Jermyn would not have it. + +"Who is the happy--the new happy man, that is Mistress Nell's friend?" +he asked, smiling. + +"Some clod from the country," returned the Earl; "his name, they say, is +Dale." + +I felt my heart beating, but I trust that I looked cool enough as I +leant across and said, + +"Your lordship is misinformed. I have the best of reasons for saying +so." + +"The reasons may be good, sir," he retorted with a stare, "but they are +not evident." + +"I am myself just named to a commission in the King's Life Guards, and +my name is Dale," said I, restraining myself to a show of composure, for +I felt Darrell's hand on my arm. + +"By my faith, then, you're the happy man," sneered Carford. "I +congratulate you on your----" + +"Stay, stay, Carford," interposed Mr Jermyn. + +"On your--godmother," said Carford. + +"You're misinformed, my lord," I repeated fiercely, although by now a +great fear had come upon me. I knew whom they meant by "Nell." + +"By God, sir, I'm not misinformed," said he. + +"By God, my lord," said I--though I had not been wont to swear--"By God, +my lord, you are." + +Our voices had risen in anger; a silence fell on the party, all turning +from their talk to listen to us. Carford's face went red when I gave him +the lie so directly and the more fiercely because, to my shame and +wonder, I had begun to suspect that what he said was no lie. But I +followed up the attack briskly. + +"Therefore, my lord," I said, "I will beg of you to confess your error, +and withdraw what you have said." + +He burst into a laugh. + +"If I weren't ashamed to take a favour from such a hand, I wouldn't be +ashamed to own it," said he. + +I rose from my seat and bowed to him gravely. All understood my meaning; +but he, choosing to treat me with insolence, did not rise nor return my +salute, but sat where he was, smiling scornfully. + +"You don't understand me, it seems, my lord," said I. "May be this will +quicken your wits," and I flung the napkin which had been brought to me +after meat lightly in his face. He sprang up quickly enough then, and so +did all the company. Darrell caught me by the arm and held me fast. +Jermyn was by Carford's side. I hardly knew what passed, being much +upset by the sudden quarrel, and yet more by the idea, that Carford's +words had put in my head. I saw Jermyn come forward, and Darrell, +loosing my arm, went and spoke to him. Lord Carford resumed his seat; I +leant against the back of my chair and waited. Darrell was not long in +returning to me. + +"You'd best go home," he said, in a low voice. "I'll arrange +everything. You must meet to-morrow morning." + +I nodded my head; I had grown cool and collected now. Bowing slightly to +Carford, and low to my host and the company, I turned to the door. As I +passed through it, I heard the talk break out again behind me. I got +into my chair, which was waiting, and was carried back to my inn in a +half-amazed state. I gave little thought to the quarrel or to the +meeting that awaited me. My mind was engrossed with the revelation to +which I had listened. I doubted it still; nay, I would not believe it. +Yet whence came the story unless it were true? And it seemed to fit most +aptly and most lamentably with what had befallen me, and to throw light +on what had been a puzzle. It was hard on four years since I had parted +from Cydaria; but that night I felt that, if the thing were true, I +should receive Carford's point in my heart without a pang. + +Being, as may be supposed, little inclined for sleep, I turned into the +public room of the inn and called for a bottle of wine. The room was +empty save for a lanky fellow, very plainly dressed, who sat at the +table reading a book. He was drinking nothing, and when--my wine having +been brought--I called in courtesy for a second glass and invited him to +join me, he shook his head sourly. Yet presently he closed his book, +which I now perceived to be a Bible, and fixed an earnest gaze on me. He +was a strange-looking fellow; his face was very thin and long, and his +hair (for he wore his own and no wig) hung straight from the crown of +his head in stiff wisps. I set him down as a Ranter, and was in no way +surprised when he began to inveigh against the evils of the times, and +to prophesy the judgment of God on the sins of the city. + +"Pestilence hath come and fire hath come," he cried. "Yet wickedness is +not put away, and lewdness vaunteth herself, and the long-suffering of +God is abused." + +All this seeming to me very tedious, I sipped my wine and made no +answer. I had enough to think of, and was content to let the sins of the +city alone. + +"The foul superstition of Papacy raises its head again," he went on, +"and godly men are persecuted." + +"Those same godly men," said I, "have had their turn before now, sir. To +many it seems as if they were only receiving what they gave." For the +fellow had roused me to some little temper by his wearisome cursing. + +"But the Time of the Lord is at hand," he pursued, "and all men shall +see the working of His wrath. Ay, it shall be seen even in palaces." + +"If I were you, sir," said I dryly, "I would not talk thus before +strangers. There might be danger in it." + +He scanned my face closely for a few moments; then, leaning across +towards me, he said earnestly: + +"You are young, and you look honest. Be warned in time; fight on the +Lord's side, and not among His enemies. Verily the time cometh." + +I had met many of these mad fellows, for the country was full of them, +some being disbanded soldiers of the Commonwealth, some ministers who +had lost their benefices; but this fellow seemed more crazy than any I +had seen: though, indeed, I must confess there was a full measure of +truth, if not of charity, in the description of the King's Court on +which he presently launched himself with great vigour of declamation and +an intense, although ridiculous, exhibition of piety. + +"You may be very right, sir----" + +"My name is Phineas Tate." + +"You may be very right, friend Phineas," said I, yawning; "but I can't +alter all this. Go and preach to the King." + +"The King shall be preached to in words that he must hear," he retorted +with a frown, "but the time is not yet." + +"The time now is to seek our beds," said I, smiling. "Do you lodge +here?" + +"For this night I lie here. To-morrow I preach to this city." + +"Then I fear you are likely to lie in a less comfortable place +to-morrow." And bidding him good-night, I turned to go. But he sprang +after me, crying, "Remember, the time is short"; and I doubt whether I +should have got rid of him had not Darrell at that moment entered the +room. To my surprise, the two seemed to know one another, for Darrell +broke into a scornful laugh, exclaiming: + +"Again, Master Tate! What, haven't you left this accursed city to its +fate yet?" + +"It awaits its fate," answered the Ranter sternly, "even as those of +your superstition wait theirs." + +"My superstition must look out for itself," said Darrell, with a shrug; +and, seeing that I was puzzled, he added, "Mr Tate is not pleased with +me because I am of the old religion." + +"Indeed?" I cried. "I didn't know you were a--of the old church." For I +remembered with confusion a careless remark that I had let fall as we +journeyed together. + +"Yes," said he simply. + +"Yes!" cried Tate. "You--and your master also, is he not?" + +Darrell's face grew stern and cold. + +"I would have you careful, sir, when you touch on my Lord Arlington's +name," he said. "You know well that he is not of the Roman faith, but is +a convinced adherent of the Church of this country." + +"Is he so?" asked Tate, with an undisguised sneer. + +"Come, enough!" cried Darrell in sudden anger. "I have much to say to my +friend, and shall be glad to be left alone with him." + +Tate made no objection to leaving us, and, gathering up his Bible, went +out scowling. + +"A pestilent fellow," said Darrell. "He'll find himself laid by the +heels before long. Well, I have settled your affair with my Lord +Carford." + +But my affair with Carford was not what I wanted to hear about. I came +to him as he sat down at the table, and, laying my hand on his shoulder, +asked simply, + +"Is it true?" + +He looked up at me with great kindness, and answered gently, + +"It is true. I guessed it as soon as you spoke of Cydaria. For Cydaria +was the part in which she first gained the favour of the town, and that, +taken with your description of her, gave me no room for doubt. Yet I +hoped that it might not be as I feared, or, at least, that the thing +could be hidden. It seems, though, that the saucy wench has made no +secret of it. Thus you are landed in this quarrel, and with a good +swordsman." + +"I care nothing for the quarrel----" I began. + +"Nay, but it is worse than you think. For Lord Carford is the gentleman +of whom I spoke, when I told you that Mistress Quinton had a noble +suitor. And he is high in her favour and higher yet in her father's. A +quarrel with him, and on such a cause, will do you no good in Lord +Quinton's eyes." + +Indeed, it seemed as though all the furies had combined to vex me. Yet +still my desire was to learn of Cydaria, for even now I could hardly +believe what Darrell told me. Sitting down by him, I listened while he +related to me what he knew of her; it was little more than the +mentioning of her true name told me--a name familiar, alas, through all +the country, sung in ballads, bandied to and fro in talk, dragged even +into high disputes that touched the nation's fortunes; for in those +strange days, when the world seemed a very devil's comedy, great +countries, ay, and Holy Churches, fought behind the mask of an actress's +face or chose a fair lady for their champion. I hope, indeed, that the +end sanctified the means; they had great need of that final +justification. Castlemaine and Nell Gwyn--had we not all read and heard +and gossiped of them? Our own Vicar had spoken to me of Nell, and would +not speak too harshly, for Nell was Protestant. Yes, Nell, so please +you, was Protestant. And other grave divines forgave her half her sins +because she flouted most openly and with pert wit the other lady, who +was suspected of an inclination towards Rome and an intention to charm +the King into the true Church's bosom. I also could have forgiven her +much; for, saving my good Darrell's presence, I hated a Papist worse +than any man, saving a Ranter. Yes, I would have forgiven her all, and +applauded her pretty face and laughed at her pretty ways. I had looked +to do as much when I came to town, being, I must confess, as little +straightlaced as most young men. But I had not known that the thing was +to touch me close. Could I forgive her my angry humiliation and my sore +heart, bruised love and burning ridicule? I could forgive her for being +all she now was. How could I forgive her for having been once my +Cydaria? + +"Well, you must fight," said Darrell, "although it is not a good +quarrel," and he shook my hand very kindly with a sigh of friendship. + +"Yes, I must fight," said I, "and after that--if there be an after--I +must go to Whitehall." + +"To take up your commission?" he asked. + +"To lay it down, Mr Darrell," said I with a touch of haughtiness. "You +don't think that I could bear it, since it comes from such a source?" + +He pressed my hand, saying with a smile that seemed tender, + +"You're from the country. Not one in ten would quarrel with that here." + +"Yes, I'm from the country," said I. "It was in the country that I knew +Cydaria." + + + + +CHAPTER V + +I AM FORBIDDEN TO FORGET + + +It must be allowed that by no possible union of unlucky chances could I, +desiring to appear as a staid, sober gentleman, and not as a ruffler or +debauched gallant, have had a worse introduction to my new life. To +start with a duel would have hurt me little, but a duel on such a cause +and on behalf of such a lady (for I should seem to be fighting the +battle of one whose name was past defending) would make my reputation +ridiculous to the gay, and offensive to all the more decent people of +the town. I thought enough on this sad side of the matter that night at +the inn, and despair would have made a prey of me had I not hoped to +clear myself in some degree by the step on which I had determined. For I +was resolved to abandon the aid in my career that the King's unexpected +favour had offered, and start afresh for myself, free from the illicit +advantage of a place gained undeservedly. Yet, amid my chagrin, and in +spite of my virtuous intentions, I found myself wondering that Cydaria +had remembered; I will not protest that I found no pleasure in the +thought; a young man whose pride was not touched by it would have +reached a higher summit of severity or a lower depth of insensibility +than was mine. Yet here also I made vows of renunciation, concerning +which there is nought to say but that, while very noble, they were in +all likelihood most uncalled for. What would or could Cydaria be to me +now? She flew at bigger game. She had flung me a kindly crumb of +remembrance; she would think that we were well quit; nay, that I was +overpaid for my bruised heart and dissipated illusion. + +It was a fine fresh morning when Mr Darrell and I set out for the place +of meeting, he carrying a pair of swords. Mr Jermyn had agreed to +support my opponent; and I was glad to learn that the meeting was to be +restricted to the principals, and not, as too often occurred, to embroil +the seconds also in a senseless quarrel. We walked briskly; and crossing +the Oxford Road at Holborn, struck into the fields beyond Montague +House. We were first at the rendezvous, but had not to wait long before +three chairs appeared, containing Lord Carford, his second, and a +surgeon. The chairmen, having set down their burdens, withdrew some way +off, and we, being left to ourselves, made our preparations as quickly +as we could; Darrell, especially, urging speed; for it seemed that a +rumour of the affair had got about the town, and he had no desire for +spectators. + +Although I desire to write without malice and to render fullest justice +to those whom I have least cause to love, I am bound to say that my Lord +Carford seemed to be most bitterly incensed against me, whereas I was in +no way incensed against him. In the first instance, he had offended +without premeditation, for he had not known who I was; his subsequent +insolence might find excuse in the peremptory phrasing of my demand for +apology, too curt, perhaps, for a young and untried man. Honour forced +me to fight, but nothing forced me to hate, and I asked no better than +that we should both escape with as little hurt as the laws of the game +allowed. His mood was different; he had been bearded, and was in a mind +to give my beard a pull--I speak in a metaphor, for beard had I +none--and possessing some reputation as a swordsman, he could not well +afford to let me go untouched. An old sergeant of General Cromwell's, +resident at Norwich, had instructed me in the use of the foils, but I +was not my lord's equal, and I set it down to my good luck and his fury +that I came off no worse than the event proved. For he made at me with +great impetuosity, and from beginning to end of the affair I was wholly +concerned in defending myself; this much I achieved successfully for +some moments, and I heard Mr Jermyn say, "But he stands his ground +well"; then came a cunning feint followed by a fierce attack and a sharp +pang in my left arm near the shoulder, while the sleeve of my shirt +went red in a moment. The seconds darted in between us, and Darrell +caught me round the waist. + +"I'm glad it was no worse," I whispered to him with a smile; then I +turned very sick, and the meadow started to go round and round me. For +some minutes I knew nothing more, but when I revived, the surgeon was +busy in binding up my arm, while the three gentlemen stood together in a +group a little way apart. My legs shook under me, and doubtless I was as +white as my mother's best linen, but I was well content, feeling that my +honour was safe, and that I had been as it were baptised of the company +of gentlemen. So Mr Jermyn seemed to think; for when my arm was dressed, +and I had got my clothes on again with some pain, and a silken sling +under my elbow, he came and craved the surgeon's leave to carry me off +to breakfast. The request was granted, on a promise that I would abstain +from inflaming food and from all strong liquors. Accordingly we set out, +I dissembling a certain surprise inspired in my countryman's mind by the +discovery that my late enemy proposed to be of the party. Having come to +a tavern in Drury Lane, we were regaled very pleasantly; Mr Jermyn, who +(although a small man, and not in my opinion well-shaped) might be seen +to hold himself in good esteem, recounting to us his adventures in love +and his exploits on the field of honour. Meanwhile, Lord Carford +treated me with distinguished courtesy, and I was at a loss to +understand his changed humour until it appeared that Darrell had +acquainted him with my resolution to surrender the commission that the +King had bestowed on me. As we grew more free with one another, his +lordship referred plainly to the matter, declaring that my conduct +showed the nicest honour, and praying me to allow his own surgeon to +visit me every day until my wound should be fully cured. His marked +politeness, and the friendliness of the others, put me in better humour +than I had been since the discovery of the evening before, and when our +meal was ended, about eleven o'clock, I was well-nigh reconciled to life +again. Yet it was not long before Carford and I were again good enemies, +and crossed swords with no less zest, although on a different field. + +I had been advised by Darrell to return at once to my inn, and there +rest quietly until evening, leaving my journey to Whitehall for the next +day, lest too much exertion should induce a fever in me; and in +obedience to his counsel I began to walk gently along Drury Lane on my +way back to Covent Garden. My Lord Carford and Mr Jermyn had gone off to +a cock-fight, where the King was to be, while Darrell had to wait upon +the Secretary at his offices; therefore I was alone, and, going easily, +found fully enough to occupy my attention in the business and incredible +stir of the town. I thought then, and think still, that nowhere in the +world is there such a place for an idle man as London; where else has he +spread for him so continual a banquet of contemplation, where else are +such comedies played every hour for his eyes' delight? It is well enough +to look at a running river, or to gaze at such mighty mountains as I saw +when I journeyed many years later into Italy; but the mountain moves +not, and the stream runs always with the same motion and in its wonted +channel. Give me these for my age, but to a young man a great city is +queen of all. + +So I was thinking as I walked along; or so I think now that I must have +thought; for in writing of his youth it is hard for a man to be sure +that he does not transfer to that golden page some of the paler +characters which later years print on his mind. Perhaps I thought of +nothing at all, save that this man here was a fine fellow, that girl +there a pretty wench, that my coat became me well, and my wounded arm +gave me an interesting air. Be my meditations what they might, they were +suddenly interrupted by the sight of a crowd in the Lane near to the +Cock and Pie tavern. Here fifty or sixty men and women, decent folk +some, others porters, flower-girls, and such like, were gathered in a +circle round a man who was pouring out an oration or sermon with great +zeal and vehemence. Having drawn nearer, I paused out of a curiosity +which turned to amusement when I discovered in the preacher my good +friend Phineas Tate, with whom I had talked the evening before. It +seemed that he had set about his task without delay, and if London were +still unmindful of its sins, the fault was not to lie at Mr Tate's door. +On he plunged, sparing neither great nor small; if the Court were +sinful, so was Drury Lane; if Castlemaine (he dealt freely in names, and +most sparingly in titles of courtesy) were what he roundly said she was, +which of the women about him was not the same? How did they differ from +their betters, unless it were that their price was not so high, and in +what, save audacity, were they behind Eleanor Gwyn? He hurled this last +name forth as though it marked a climax of iniquity, and a start ran +through me as I heard it thus treated. Strange to say, something of the +same effect seemed to be produced on his other hearers. Hitherto they +had listened with good-natured tolerance, winking at one another, +laughing when the preacher's finger pointed at a neighbour, shrugging +comfortable shoulders when it turned against themselves. They are +long-suffering under abuse, the folk of London; you may say much what +you will, provided you allow them to do what they will, and they support +the imputation of unrighteousness with marvellous composure, as long as +no man takes it in hand to force them to righteousness. As they are now, +they were then, though many changes have passed over the country and +the times; so will they be, although more transformations come. + +But, as I say, this last name stirred the group to a new mood. Friend +Phineas perceived the effect that he had made, but set a wrong meaning +on it. Taking it as a ground for encouragement, he loosed his tongue yet +more outrageously, and so battered the unhappy subject of his censures +that my ears tingled, and suddenly I strode quickly up to the group, +intent on silencing him; but a great brawny porter, with a dirty red +face, was beforehand with me. Elbowing his way irresistibly through the +ranks, he set himself squarely before Phineas, and, wagging his head +significantly enough, growled out: + +"Say what you will of Castlemaine and the rest, Master Ranter, but keep +your tongue off Nelly." + +A murmur of applause ran round. They knew Nelly: here in the Lane was +her kingdom. + +"Let Nelly alone," said the porter, "if you value whole bones, master." + +Phineas was no coward, and threats served only to fan the flame of his +zeal. I had started to stop his mouth; it seemed likely that I must +employ myself in saving his head. His lean frame would crack and break +in the grasp of his mighty assailant, and I was loth that the fool +should come to harm; so I began to push my way through towards the pair, +and arrived just as Phineas, having shot a most pointed dart, was about +to pay for his too great skill with a blow from the porter's +mutton-fist. I caught the fellow's arm as he raised it, and he turned +fiercely on me, growling, "Are you his friend, then?" + +"Not I," I answered. "But you'd kill him, man." + +"Let him heed what he says, then. Kill him! Ay, and spare him readily!" + +The affair looked awkward enough, for the feeling was all one way, and I +could do little to hinder any violence. A girl in the crowd reminded me +of my helplessness, touching my wounded arm lightly, and saying, "Are +you hungry for more fighting, sir?" + +"He's a madman," said I. "Let him alone; who heeds what he says?" + +Friend Phineas did not take my defence in good part. + +"Mad, am I?" he roared, beating with his fist on his Bible. "You'll know +who was mad when you lie howling in hell fire. And with you that----" +And on he went again at poor Nell. + +The great porter could endure no more. With a seemingly gentle motion of +his hand he thrust me aside, pushing me on to the bosom of a buxom +flower-girl who, laughing boisterously, wound a pair of sturdy red arms +round me. Then he stepped forward, and seizing Phineas by the scruff of +the neck shook him as a dog shakes a rat. To what more violence he would +have proceeded I do not know; for suddenly from above us, out of a +window of the Cock and Pie, came a voice which sent a stir through my +veins. + +"Good people, good people," said the voice, "what with preaching and +brawling, a body can get no sleep in the Lane. Pray go and work, or if +you've no work, go and drink. Here are the means." And a shower of small +coins came flying down on our heads, causing an immediate wild scramble. +My flower-girl loosed me that she might take her part in this fray; the +porter stood motionless, still holding poor Phineas, limp and lank, in +his hand; and I turned my eyes upwards to the window of the Cock and +Pie. + +I looked up, and I saw her. Her sunny brown hair was about her +shoulders, her knuckles rubbed her sleepy eyes to brightness, and a +loose white bodice, none too high nor too carefully buttoned about the +neck, showed that her dressing was not done. Indeed, she made a pretty +picture, as she leant out, laughing softly, and now shading her face +from the sun with one hand, while she raised the other in mocking +reproof of the preacher. + +"Fie, sir, fie," she said. "Why fall on a poor girl who earns an honest +living, gives to the needy, and is withal a good Protestant?" Then she +called to the porter, "Let him go with what life you've left in him. Let +him go." + +"You heard what he said of you----" began the fellow sullenly. + +"Ay, I hear what everybody says of me," she answered carelessly. "Let +him go." + +The porter sulkily released his prey, and Phineas, set free, began to +gasp and shake himself. Another coin whistled down to the porter, who, +picking it up, shambled off with a last oath of warning to his enemy. +Then, and then only, did she look at me, who had never ceased to look at +her. When she saw me, her smile grew broader, and her eyes twinkled in +surprise and delight. + +"A happy morning!" she said, clasping her little hands. "Ah, a happy +morning! Why, 'tis Simon, my Simon, my little Simon from the country. +Come up to me, Simon. No, no, your pardon; I'll come down to you, Simon. +In the parlour, in the parlour. Quick! I'll be down in an instant." + +The vision vanished, but my gaze dwelt on the window where it had been, +and I needed Phineas Tate's harsh voice to rouse me from my stupor. + +"Who is the woman?" he demanded. + +"Why--why--Mistress Gwyn herself," I stammered. + +"Herself--the woman, herself?" he asked eagerly. Then he suddenly drew +himself up and, baring his head, said solemnly, "Thanks be to God, +thanks be to God, for it may be His will that this brand should be +plucked from the burning." And before I could speak or attempt to hinder +him he stepped swiftly across the pathway and entered the tavern. I, +seeing nothing else that I could do, followed him straightway and as +fast as I could. + +I was in a maze of feeling. The night before I had reasoned with myself +and schooled my wayward passion to a resolve neither to see nor to speak +with her. Resentment at the shame she had brought on me aided my +stubbornness, and helped me to forget that I had been shamed because she +had remembered me. But now I followed Phineas Tate. For be memory ever +so keen and clear, yes, though it seem able to bring every feature, +every shade, and every pose before a man's eyes in absolute fidelity, +yet how poor and weak a thing it is beside the vivid sight of bodily +eyes; that paints the faded picture all afresh in hot and glowing +colours, and the man who bade defiance to the persuasions of his +recollection falls beaten down by the fierce force of a present vision. +I followed Phineas Tate, perhaps using some excuse with myself--indeed, +I feared that he would attack her rudely and be cruelly plain with +her--yet knowing in my heart that I went because I could do nothing +else, and that when she called, every atom of life in me answered to her +summons. So in I went, to find Phineas standing bolt upright in the +parlour of the tavern, turning the leaves of his book with eager +fingers, as though he sought some text that was in his mind. I passed by +him and leant against the wall by the window; so we awaited her, each +of us eager, but with passions most unlike. + +She came, daintily dressed now, although still negligently. She put her +head round the corner of the door, radiant with smiles, and with no more +shame or embarrassment than if our meeting in this way were the most +ordinary thing. Then she caught sight of Phineas Tate and cried, +pouting, "But I wanted to be alone with my Simon, my dear Simon." + +Phineas caught the clue her words gave him with perverse readiness. + +"Alone with him, yes!" he cried. "But what of the time when you must be +alone with God?" + +"Alas," said she, coming in, and seating herself at the table, "is there +more still? Indeed, I thought you had said all your say outside. I am +very wicked; let that end it." + +He advanced to the table and stood directly opposite to her, stretching +his arm towards her, while she sat with her chin on her hands, watching +him with eyes half-amused, half-apprehensive. + +"You who live in open sin----" he began; before he could say more I was +by his elbow. + +"Hold your tongue," I said. "What is it to you?" + +"Let him go on, Simon," said she. + +And go on he did, telling all--as I prayed, more than all--the truth, +while she heard him patiently. Yet now and then she gave herself a +little shake, as though to get rid of something that threatened to +stick. Then he fell on his knees and prayed fervently, she still sitting +quiet and I standing awkwardly near. He finished his prayer, and, rising +again, looked earnestly at her. Her eyes met his in good nature, almost +in friendliness. He stretched out his hand to her again, saying, + +"Child, cannot you understand? Alas, your heart is hardened! I pray +Christ our Lord to open your eyes and change your heart, that at the +last your soul may be saved." + +Nelly examined the pink nails of her right hand with curious attention. + +"I don't know that I'm more of a sinner than many others," said she. "Go +to Court and preach, sir." + +A sudden fury seemed to come over him, and he lost the gentleness with +which he had last addressed her. + +"The Word shall be heard at the Court," he cried, "in louder accents +than mine. Their cup is full, the measure of their iniquity is pressed +down and running over. All who live shall see." + +"Like enough," said Nell, as though the matter were grown very tedious, +and she yawned just a little; but, as she glanced at me, a merry light +gleamed in her eyes. "And what is to befall Simon here?" she asked. + +He turned on me with a start, seeming to have forgotten my presence. + +"This young man?" he asked, looking full in my face. "Why, his face is +honest; if he choose his friends well, he may do well." + +"I am of his friends," said Nell, and I defy any man on earth to have +given the lie to such a claim so made. + +"And for you, may the Lord soften your heart," said Phineas to her. + +"Some say it's too soft already," said Nell. + +"You will see me again," said he to her, and moved towards the door. But +once more he faced me before he went, and looked very intently at me. +Then he passed out, leaving us alone. + +At his going Nell sighed for relief, stretched out her arms, and let +them fall on the table in front of her; then she sprang up and ran to +me, catching hold of my hands. + +"And how goes all at pretty Hatchstead?" she asked. + +I drew back, releasing my hands from hers, and I spoke to her stiffly. + +"Madame," said I, "this is not Hatchstead, nor do you seem the lady whom +I knew at Hatchstead." + +"Indeed, you seem very like the gentleman I knew, and knew well, there," +she retorted. + +"And you, very unlike the lady." + +"Nay, not so unlike as you think. But are you also going to preach to +me?" + +"Madame," said I in cold courtesy, "I have to thank you for a good +remembrance of me, and for your kindness in doing me a service; I assure +you I prize it none the less, because I may not accept it." + +"You may not accept it?" she cried. "What? You may not accept the +commission?" + +"No, madame," said I, bowing low. + +Her face was like a pretty child's in disappointment. + +"And your arm? How come you to be wounded? Have you been quarrelling +already?" + +"Already, madame." + +"But with whom, and why?" + +"With my Lord Carford. The reason I need not weary you with." + +"But I desire to know it." + +"Because my lord said that Mistress Gwyn had obtained me my commission." + +"But it was true." + +"Doubtless; yet I fought." + +"Why, if it were true?" + +I made her no answer. She went and seated herself again at the table, +looking up at me with eyes in which I seemed to read pain and puzzle. + +"I thought it would please you, Simon," she said, with a coaxing glance +that at least feigned timidity. + +"Never have I been so proud as on the day I received it," said I; "and +never, I think, so happy, unless, may be, when you and I walked in the +Manor park." + +"Nay, Simon, but you will be glad to have it, even though I obtained it +for you." + +"I shall not have it. I go to Whitehall to-morrow to surrender it." + +She sprang up in wonder, and anger also showed in her eyes. + +"To surrender it? You mean in truth to surrender it? And because it came +from me?" + +Again I could do nothing but bow. That I did with the best air I could +muster, although I had no love for my part in this scene. Alas for a man +who, being with her, must spend his time in chiding! + +"Well, I wish I hadn't remembered you," she said resentfully. + +"Indeed, madame, I also wish that I had forgotten." + +"You have, or you would never use me so." + +"It is my memory that makes me rough, madame. Indeed, how should I have +forgotten?" + +"You hadn't?" she asked, advancing nearer to me. "No, in truth I believe +you hadn't! And, Simon, listen!" Now she stood with her face but a yard +from mine, and again her lips were curved with mirth and malice. +"Listen, Simon," she said, "you had not forgotten; and you shall not +forget." + +"It is very likely," said I simply; and I took up my hat from the table. + +"How fares Mistress Barbara?" asked Nell suddenly. + +"I have not waited on her," I answered. + +"Then indeed I am honoured, although our meeting was somewhat by chance. +Ah, Simon, I want to be so angry with you. But how can I be angry? I can +never be angry. Why" (and here she came even a little closer, and now +she was smiling most damnably--nay, I mean most delightfully; but it is +often much the same), "I was not very angry even when you kissed me, +Simon." + +It is not for me to say what answer to that speech she looked to +receive. Mine was no more than a repetition of my bow. + +"You'll keep the commission, Simon?" she whispered, standing on tiptoe, +as though she would reach my ear. + +"I can't," said I, bowing no more, and losing, I fear, the air of grave +composure that I had striven to maintain. I saw what seemed a light of +triumph in her eyes. Yet that mood passed quickly from her. She grew +pensive and drew away from me. I stepped towards the door, but a hand +laid on my arm arrested me. + +"Simon," she asked, "have you sweet memories of Hatchstead?" + +"God forgive me," said I confusedly, "sweeter than my hopes of heaven." + +She looked at me gravely for an instant. Then, sighing, she said, + +"Then I wish you had not come to town, but stayed there with your +memories. They were of me?" + +"Of Cydaria." + +"Ah, of Cydaria," she echoed, with a little smile. + +But a moment later the full merriment of laughter broke out again on her +face, and, drawing her hand away, she let me go, crying after me, + +"But you shall not forget, Simon. No, you shall not forget." + +There I left her, standing in the doorway of the inn, daring me to +forget. And my brain seemed all whirling and swirling as I walked down +the Lane. + + + + +CHAPTER VI + +AN INVITATION TO COURT + + +I spent the rest of that day in my inn, agreeably to the advice of the +surgeon, and the next morning, finding my wound healing well, and my +body free from fever, I removed to Mr Darrell's new lodging by the +Temple, where he had most civilly placed two rooms at my disposal. Here +also I provided myself with a servant, a fellow named Jonah Wall, and +prepared to go to Whitehall as the King's letter commanded me. Of Mr +Darrell I saw nothing; he went off before I came, having left for me +with Robert, his servant, a message that he was much engaged with the +Secretary's business, and prayed to be excused from affording me his +company. Yet I was saved from making my journey alone--a thing that +would have occasioned me much trepidation--by the arrival of my Lord +Quinton. The reverence of our tender years is hard to break down, and I +received my visitor with an uneasiness which was not decreased by the +severity of his questions concerning my doings. I made haste to tell him +that I had determined to resign the commission bestowed on me. These +tidings so transformed his temper that he passed from cold reproof to an +excess of cordiality, being pleased to praise highly a scruple as +honourable as (he added with a shrug) it was rare, and he began to laugh +at himself as he recounted humorously how his wrath against me had grown +higher and higher with each thing that had come to his ears. Eager now +to make amends, he offered to go with me to Whitehall, proposing that we +should ride in his coach to the Mall, and walk thence together. I +accepted his company most gratefully, since it would save me from +betraying an ignorance of which I was ashamed, and strengthen my courage +for the task before me. Accordingly we set out, and as we went my lord +took occasion to refer to my acquaintance with Mistress Nell, suggesting +plainly enough, although not directly, that I should be wise to abandon +her society at the same time that I laid down the commission she had +obtained for me. I did not question his judgment, but avoided giving any +promise to be guided by it. Perceiving that I was not willing to be +pressed, he passed from the topic with a sigh, and began to discourse on +the state of the kingdom. Had I paid more heed to what he said I might +have avoided certain troubles into which I fell afterwards, but, busy +staring about me, I gave him only such attention as courtesy required, +and not enough for a proper understanding of his uneasiness at the +dealings of our Court with the French King and the visit of the King's +sister, Madame d'Orléans, of which the town was full. For my lord, +although a most loyal gentleman, hated both the French and the Papists, +and was much grieved at the King's apparent inclination in their favour. +So he talked, I nodding and assenting to all, but wondering when he +would bid me wait on my lady, and whether Mistress Barbara was glad that +my Lord Carford's sword had passed through my arm only and done no +greater hurt. + +Thus we came to the Mall, and having left the coach, set out to walk +slowly, my lord having his arm through mine. I was very glad to be seen +thus in his company, for, although not so great a man here as at +Hatchstead, he had no small reputation, and carried himself with a noble +air. When we had gone some little way, being very comfortable with one +another, and speaking now of lighter matters, I perceived at some +distance a party of gentlemen, three in number; they were accompanied by +a little boy very richly dressed, and were followed at a short interval +by five or six more gentlemen, among whom I recognised immediately my +friend Darrell. It seemed then that the Secretary's business could be +transacted in leisurely fashion! As the first group passed along, I +observed that the bystanders uncovered, but I had hardly needed this +sign to tell me that the King was of the party. I was familiar with his +features, but he seemed to me even a more swarthy man than all the +descriptions of his blackness had led me to expect. He bore himself +with a very easy air, yet was not wanting in dignity, and being +attracted by him I fell to studying his appearance with such interest +that I came near to forgetting to remove my hat. Presently he seemed to +observe us; he smiled, and beckoned with his hand to my lord, who went +forward alone, leaving me still watching the King and his companions. + +I had little difficulty in recognising the name of one; the fine figure, +haughty manner, and magnificent attire showed him to be the famous Duke +of Buckingham, whose pride lay in seeming more of a King than the King +himself. While my lord spoke with the King, this nobleman jested with +the little boy, who answered with readiness and vivacity. As to the last +member of the group (whom the Duke seemed to treat with some neglect) I +was at a loss. His features were not distinguished except by a perfect +composure and self-possession, but his bearing was very courtly and +graceful. He wore a slight, pleasant, yet rather rigid smile, and his +attitude was as though he listened to what his master said with even +excessive deference and urbanity. His face was marked, and to my +thinking much disfigured, by a patch or plaster worn across the nose, as +though to hide some wound or scar. + +After a few minutes, during which I waited very uneasily, my lord turned +and signed to me to approach. I obeyed, hat in hand, and in a condition +of great apprehension. To be presented to the King was an honour +disquieting enough; what if my lord had told His Majesty that I declined +to bear his commission through a disapproval of his reasons for granting +me the favour? But when I came near I fell into the liveliest fear that +my lord had done this very thing; for the King was smiling +contemptuously, Buckingham laughing openly, and the gentleman with the +plaster regarding me with a great and very apparent curiosity. My lord, +meanwhile, wore a propitiatory but doubtful air, as though he prayed but +hardly hoped a gracious reception for me. Thus we all stood a moment in +complete silence, I invoking an earthquake or any convulsion of nature +that should rescue me from my embarrassment. Certainly the King did not +hasten to do me this kindly service. He grew grave and seemed +displeased, nay, he frowned most distinctly, but then he smiled, yet +more as though he must than because he would. I do not know how the +thing would have ended if the Duke of Buckingham had not burst out +laughing again, at which the King could not restrain himself, but began +to laugh also, although still not as though he found the jest altogether +to his liking. + +"So, sir," said the King, composing his features as he addressed me, +"you are not desirous of bearing my commission and fighting my enemies +for me?" + +"I would fight for your Majesty to the death," said I timidly, but with +fervour. + +"Yet you are on the way to ask leave to resign your commission. Why, +sir?" + +I could not answer; it was impossible to state my reason to him. + +"The utility of a woman's help," observed the King, "was apparent very +early in the world's history. Even Adam was glad of it." + +"She was his wife, Sir," interposed the Duke. + +"I have never read of the ceremony," said the King. "But if she were, +what difference?" + +"Why, it makes a great deal of difference in many ways, Sir," laughed +Buckingham, and he glanced with a significance which I did not +understand at the boy who was waiting near with a weary look on his +pretty face. + +The King laughed carelessly and called, "Charles, come hither." + +Then I knew that the boy must be the King's son, afterwards known as +Earl of Plymouth, and found the meaning of the Duke's glance. + +"Charles, what think you of women?" the King asked. + +The pretty child thought for a moment, then answered, looking up, + +"They are very tiresome creatures, Sir." + +"Why, so they are, Charles," said the King gravely. + +"They will never let a thing alone, Sir." + +"No, they won't, Charles, nor a man either." + +"It's first this, Sir, then that--a string, or a garter, or a bow." + +"Yes, Charles; or a title, or a purse, or a commission," said the King. +"Shall we have no more to do with them?" + +"I would desire no more at all, Sir," cried the boy. + +"It appears, Mr Dale," said the King, turning to me, "that Charles here, +and you, and I, are all of one mind on the matter of women. Had Heaven +been on our side, there would have been none of them in the world." + +He seemed to be examining me now with some degree of attention, although +I made, I fear, a very poor figure. Lord Quinton came to my rescue, and +began to enlarge on my devotion to His Majesty's person and my eagerness +to serve him in any way I might, apart from the scruple which he had +ventured to disclose to the King. + +"Mr Dale says none of these fine things for himself," remarked the King. + +"It is not always those that say most who do most, Sir," pleaded my +lord. + +"Therefore this young gentleman who says nothing will do everything?" +The King turned to his companion who wore the plaster, and had as yet +not spoken at all. "My Lord Arlington," said he, "it seems that I must +release Mr Dale." + +"I think so, Sir," answered Arlington, on whom I looked with much +curiosity, since he was Darrell's patron. + +"I cannot have servants who do not love me," pursued the King. + +"Nor subjects," added Buckingham, with a malicious smile. + +"Although I am not, unhappily, so free in the choice of my Ministers," +said the King. Then he faced round on me and addressed me in a cold +tone: + +"I am reluctant, sir, to set down your conduct to any want of affection +or loyalty towards me. I shall be glad if you can show me that my +forbearance is right." With this he bent his head slightly, and moved +on. I bowed very low, shame and confusion so choking me that I had not a +word to say. Indeed, I seemed damned beyond redemption, so far as my +fortunes depended on obtaining the King's favour. + +Again I was left to myself, for the King, anxious, as I took it, to show +that his displeasure extended to me only, had stopped again to speak +with my lord. But in a moment, to my surprise, Arlington was at my side. + +"Come, sir," said he very genially, "there's no need of despair. The +King is a little vexed, but his resentment is not obstinate; and let me +tell you that he has been very anxious to see you." + +"The King anxious to see me?" I cried. + +"Why, yes. He has heard much of you." His lips twitched as he glanced at +me. I had the discretion to ask no further explanation, and in a moment +he grew grave again, continuing, "I also am glad to meet with you, for +my good friend Darrell has sounded your praises to me. Sir, there are +many ways of serving the King." + +"I should rejoice with all my heart to find one of them, my lord," I +answered. + +"I may find you one, if you are willing to take it." + +"I should be your lordship's most humble and grateful servant." + +"Tut, if I gave, I should ask in return," said he. And he added +suddenly, "You're a good Churchman, I suppose, Mr Dale?" + +"Why, yes, my lord; I and all my family." + +"Good, good. In these days our Church has many enemies. It is threatened +on more than one side." + +I contented myself with bowing; when the Secretary spoke to me on such +high matters, it was for me to listen, and not to bandy opinions with +him. + +"Yes, we are much threatened," said he. "Well, Mr Dale, I shall trust +that we may have other meetings. You are to be found at Mr Darrell's +lodging? You may look to hear from me, sir." He moved away, cutting +short my thanks with a polite wave of his hand. + +Suddenly to my amazement the King turned round and called to me: + +"Mr Dale, there is a play to be acted at my house to-morrow evening. +Pray give me the pleasure of your company." + +I bowed almost to the ground, scarcely able to believe my ears. + +"And we'll try," said the King, raising his voice so that not only we +who were close to him but the gentlemen behind also must hear, "to find +an ugly woman and an honest man, between whom we may place you. The +first should not be difficult to come on, but the second, I fear, is +well-nigh impossible, unless another stranger should come to Court. +Good-day to you, Mr Dale." And away he went, smiling very happily and +holding the boy's hand in his. + +The King's immediate party was no sooner gone than Darrell ran up to me +eagerly, and before my lord could rejoin me, crying: + +"What did he say to you?" + +"The King? Why, he said----" + +"No, no. What did my lord say?" He pointed to Arlington, who was walking +off with the King. + +"He asked whether I were a good Churchman, and told me that I should +hear from him. But if he is so solicitous about the Church, how does he +endure your religion?" + +Darrell had no time to answer, for Lord Quinton's grave voice struck in. + +"He is a wise man who can answer a question touching my Lord Arlington's +opinion of the Church," said he. + +Darrell flushed red, and turned angrily on the interrupter. + +"You have no cause, my lord," he cried, "to attack the Secretary's +churchmanship." + +"Then you have no cause, sir," retorted Quinton, "to defend it with so +much temper. Come, let me be. I have said as much to the Secretary's +face, and he bore it with more patience than you can muster on his +behalf." + +By this time I was in some distress to see my old friend and my new at +such variance, and the more as I could not understand the ground of +their difference; the Secretary's suspected leaning towards the Popish +religion had not reached our ears in the country. But Darrell, as though +he did not wish to dispute further with a man his superior in rank and +age, drew off with a bow to my lord and a kindly nod to me, and rejoined +the other gentlemen in attendance on the King and his party. + +"You came off well with the King, Simon," said my lord, taking my arm +again. "You made him laugh, and he counts no man his enemy who will do +him that service. But what did Arlington say to you?" + +When I repeated the Secretary's words, he grew grave, but he patted my +arm in a friendly fashion, saying, + +"You've shown wisdom and honour in this first matter, lad. I must trust +you in others. Yet there are many who have no faith in my Lord +Arlington, as Englishman or Churchman either." + +"But," cried I, "does not Lord Arlington do as the King bids him?" + +My lord looked full in my face, and answered steadily, + +"I think he does, Simon." But then, as though he had said enough, or +even too much, he went on: "Come, you needn't grow too old or too +prudent all at once. Since you have seen the King, your business at +Whitehall will wait. Let us turn back to the coach and be driven to my +house, for, besides my lady, Barbara is there to-day on leave from her +attendance, and she will be glad to renew her acquaintance with you." + +It was my experience as a young man, and, perchance, other young men may +have found the like, that whatsoever apprehensions or embarrassments +might be entailed by meeting a comely damsel, and however greatly her +displeasure and scorn were to be dreaded, yet the meeting was not +forgone, all perils being taken rather than that certain calamity. +Therefore I went with my lord to his handsome house in Southampton +Square, and found myself kissing my lady's hand before I was resolved on +how I should treat Mistress Barbara, or on the more weighty question of +how I might look to be treated by her. + +I had not to wait long for the test. After a few moments of my lady's +amiable and kindly conversation, Barbara entered from the room behind, +and with her Lord Carford. He wore a disturbed air, which his affected +composure could not wholly conceal; her cheek was flushed, and she +seemed vexed; but I did not notice these things so much as the change +which had been wrought in her by the last four years. She had become a +very beautiful woman, ornamented with a high-bred grace and exquisite +haughtiness, tall and slim, carrying herself with a delicate dignity. +She gave me her hand to kiss, carelessly enough, and rather as though +she acknowledged an old acquaintance than found any pleasure in its +renewal. But she was gentle to me, and I detected in her manner a subtle +indication that, although she knew all, yet she pitied rather than +blamed; was not Simon very young and ignorant, and did not all the world +know how easily even honest young men might be beguiled by cunning +women? An old friend must not turn her back on account of a folly, +distasteful as it might be to her to be reminded of such matters. + +My lord, I think, read his daughter very well, and, being determined to +afford me an opportunity to make my peace, engaged Lord Carford in +conversation, and bade her lead me into the room behind to see the +picture that Lely had lately painted of her. She obeyed; and, having +brought me to where it hung, listened patiently to my remarks on it, +which I tried to shape into compliments that should be pleasing and yet +not gross. Then, taking courage, I ventured to assure her that I fell +out with Lord Carford in sheer ignorance that he was a friend of her +family, and would have borne anything at his hands had I known it. She +smiled, answering, + +"But you did him no harm," and she glanced at my arm in its sling. + +She had not troubled herself to ask how it did, and I, a little nettled +at her neglect, said: + +"Nay, all ended well. I alone was hurt, and the great lord came off +safe." + +"Since the great lord was in the right," said she, "we should all +rejoice at that. Are you satisfied with your examination of the picture, +Mr Dale?" + +I was not to be turned aside so easily. + +"If you hold me to have been wrong, then I have done what I could to put +myself in the right since," said I, not doubting that she knew of my +surrender of the commission. + +"I don't understand," said she, with a quick glance. "What have you +done?" + +In wonder that she had not been informed, I cried, + +"I have obtained the King's leave to decline his favour." + +The colour which had been on her cheeks when she first entered had gone +before now, but at my words it returned a little. + +"Didn't my lord tell you?" I asked. + +"I haven't seen him alone this week past," she answered. + +But she had seen Carford alone, and that in the last hour past. It was +strange that he, who had known my intention and commended it so highly, +should not have touched on it. I looked in her eyes; I think she +followed my thoughts, for she glanced aside, and said in visible +embarrassment, + +"Shall we return?" + +"You haven't spoken on the matter with my Lord Carford, then?" I asked. + +She hesitated a moment, then answered as though she did not love the +truth but must tell it, + +"Yes; but he said nothing of this. Tell me of it." + +So I told her in simple and few words what I had done. + +"Lord Carford said nothing of it," she said, when I ended. Then she +added, "But although you will not accept the favour, you have rendered +thanks for it?" + +"I couldn't find my tongue when I was with the King," I answered with a +shamefaced laugh. + +"I didn't mean to the King," said Barbara. + +It was my turn to colour now; I had not been long enough in town to lose +the trick. + +"I have seen her," I murmured. + +Barbara suddenly made me a curtsey, saying bitterly, + +"I wish you joy, sir, of your acquaintance." + +When a man is alone with a beautiful lady, he is apt not to love an +intruder; yet on my soul I was glad to see Carford in the doorway. He +came towards us, but before he could speak Barbara cried to him, + +"My lord, Mr Dale tells me news that will interest you." + +"Indeed, madame, and what?" + +"Why, that he has begged the King's leave to resign his commission. +Doesn't it surprise you?" + +He looked at her, at me, and again at her. He was caught, for I knew +that he had been fully acquainted with my purpose. He gathered himself +together to answer her. + +"Nay, I knew," he said, "and had ventured to applaud Mr Dale's +resolution. But it did not come into my mind to speak of it." + +"Strange," said she, "when we were deploring that Mr Dale should obtain +his commission by such means!" + +She rested her eyes on him steadily, while her lips were set in a +scornful smile. A pause followed her words. + +"I daresay I should have mentioned it, had we not passed to another +topic," said he at last and sullenly enough. Then, attempting a change +in tone, he added, "Won't you rejoin us?" + +"I am very well here," she said. + +He waited a moment, then bowed, and left us. He was frowning heavily, +and, as I judged, would have greeted another quarrel with me very +gladly, had I been minded to give him an opportunity; but thinking it +fair that I should be cured from the first encounter before I faced a +second, I held my peace till he was gone; then I said to Barbara, + +"I wonder he didn't tell you." + +Alas for my presumption! The anger that had been diverted on to +Carford's head swept back to mine. + +"Indeed, why should he?" she cried. "All the world can't be always +thinking of you and your affairs, Mr Dale." + +"Yet you were vexed because he hadn't." + +"I vexed! Not I!" said Barbara haughtily. + +I could not make that out; she had seemed angry with him. But because I +spoke of her anger, she was angry now with me. Indeed I began to think +that little Charles, the King, and I had been right in that opinion in +which the King found us so much of a mind. Suddenly Barbara spoke. + +"Tell me what she is like, this friend of yours," she said. "I have +never seen her." + +It leapt to my lips to cry, "Ay, you have seen her!" but I did not give +utterance to the words. Barbara had seen her in the park at Hatchstead, +seen her more than once, and more than once found sore offence in what +she saw. There is wisdom in silence; I was learning that safety might +lie in deceit. The anger under which I had suffered would be doubled if +she knew that Cydaria was Nell and Nell Cydaria. Why should she know? +Why should my own mouth betray me and add my bygone sins to the offences +of to-day? My lord had not told her that Nell was Cydaria. Should I +speak where my lord was silent? Neither would I tell her of Cydaria. + +"You haven't seen her?" I asked. + +"No; and I would learn what she is like." + +It was a strange thing to command me, yet Barbara's desire joined with +my own thoughts to urge me to it. I began tamely enough, with a stiff +list of features and catalogue of colours. But as I talked recollection +warmed my voice; and when Barbara's lips curled scornfully, as though +she would say, "What is there in this to make men fools? There is +nothing in all this," I grew more vehement and painted the picture with +all my skill. What malice began, my ardour perfected, until, engrossed +in my fancy, I came near to forgetting that I had a listener, and ended +with a start as I found Barbara's eyes fixed on mine, while she stood +motionless before me. My exultation vanished, and confusion drove away +my passion. + +"You bade me describe her," said I lamely. "I do not know whether others +see as I do, but such is she to my eyes." + +A silence followed. Barbara's face was not flushed now, but rather +seemed paler than it was wont to be. I could not tell how it was, but I +knew that I had wounded her. Is not beauty jealous, and who but a clod +will lavish praise on one fair face while another is before him? I +should have done better to play the hypocrite and swear that my folly, +not Nell's features, was to blame. But now I was stubborn and would +recall not a word of all my raptures. Yet I was glad that I had not told +her who Cydaria was. + +The silence was short. In an instant Barbara gave a little laugh, +saying, + +"Small wonder you were caught, poor Simon! Yes, the creature must be +handsome enough. Shall we return to my mother?" + +On that day she spoke no more with me. + + + + +CHAPTER VII + +WHAT CAME OF HONESTY + + +I should sin against the truth and thereby rob this my story of its +solitary virtue were I to pretend that my troubles and perplexities, +severe as they seemed, outweighed the pleasure and new excitement of my +life. Ambition was in my head, youth in my veins, my eyes looked out on +a gay world with a regard none too austere. Against these things even +love's might can wage but an equal battle. For the moment, I must +confess, my going to Court, with the prospect it opened and the chances +it held, dominated my mind, and Jonah Wall, my servant, was kept busy in +preparing me for the great event. I had made a discovery concerning this +fellow which afforded me much amusement: coming on him suddenly, I found +him deeply engaged on a Puritan Psalm-book, sighing and casting up his +eyes to heaven in a ludicrous excess of glum-faced piety. I pressed him +hard and merrily, when it appeared that he was as thorough a Ranter as +my friend Phineas himself, and held the Court and all in it to be +utterly given over to Satan, an opinion not without some warrant, had +he observed any moderation in advancing it. Not wishing to harm him, I +kept my knowledge to myself, but found a malicious sport in setting him +to supply me with all the varieties of raiment, perfumes, and other +gauds--that last was his word, not mine--which he abhorred, but which Mr +Simon Dale's new-born desire for fashion made imperative, however little +Mr Simon Dale's purse could properly afford the expense of them. The +truth is that Mistress Barbara's behaviour spurred me on. I had no mind +to be set down a rustic; I could stomach disapproval and endure +severity; pitied for a misguided be-fooled clod I would not be; and the +best way to avoid such a fate seemed to lie in showing myself as +reckless a gallant and as fine a roisterer as any at Whitehall. So I +dipped freely and deep into my purse, till Jonah groaned as woefully for +my extravagance as for my frivolity. All day he was in great fear lest I +should take him with me to Court to the extreme peril of his soul; but +prudence at last stepped in and bade me spare myself the cost of a rich +livery by leaving him behind. + +Now Heaven forbid that I should imitate my servant's sour folly (for, if +a man must be a fool, I would have him a cheerful fool) or find anything +to blame in the pomp and seemly splendour of a Royal Court; yet the +profusion that met my eyes amazed me. It was the King's whim that on +this night himself, his friends, and principal gentlemen should, for no +reason whatsoever except the quicker disbursing of their money, assume +Persian attire, and they were one and all decked out in richest Oriental +garments, in many cases lavishly embroidered with precious stones. The +Duke of Buckingham seemed all ablaze, and the other courtiers and wits +were little less magnificent, foremost among them being the young Duke +of Monmouth, whom I now saw for the first time and thought as handsome a +youth as I had set eyes on. The ladies did not enjoy the licence offered +by this new fashion, but they contrived to hold their own in the French +mode, and I, who had heard much of the poverty of the nation, the +necessities of the fleet, and the straits in which the King found +himself for money, was left gaping in sheer wonder whence came all the +wealth that was displayed before my eyes. My own poor preparations lost +all their charm, and I had not been above half an hour in the place +before I was seeking a quiet corner in which to hide the poverty of my +coat and the plainness of my cloak. But the desire for privacy thus bred +in me was not to find satisfaction. Darrell, whom I had not met all day, +now pounced on me and carried me off, declaring that he was charged to +present me to the Duke of York. Trembling between fear and exultation, I +walked with him across the floor, threading my way through the dazzling +throng that covered the space in front of His Majesty's dais. But before +we came to the Duke, a gentleman caught my companion by the arm and +asked him how he did in a hearty, cheerful, and rather loud voice. +Darrell's answer was to pull me forward and present me, saying that Sir +Thomas Clifford desired my acquaintance, and adding much that erred +through kindness of my parts and disposition. + +"Nay, if he's your friend, it's enough for me, Darrell," answered +Clifford, and putting his mouth to Darrell's ear he whispered. Darrell +shook his head, and I thought that the Treasurer seemed disappointed. +However, he bade me farewell with cordiality. + +"What did he ask you?" said I, when we started on our way again. + +"Only whether you shared my superstition," answered Darrell with a +laugh. + +"They're all mighty anxious about my religion," thought I. "It would do +no harm if they bestowed more attention on their own." + +Suddenly turning a corner, we came on a group in a recess hung on three +sides with curtains and furnished with low couches in the manner of an +Oriental divan. The Duke of York, who seemed to me a handsome courtly +prince, was sitting, and by him Lord Arlington. Opposite to them stood a +gentleman to whom the Duke, when I had made my bow, presented me, +bidding me know Mr Hudleston, the Queen's Chaplain. I was familiar with +his name, having often, heard of the Romish priest who befriended the +King in his flight from Worcester. I was examining his features with the +interest that an unknown face belonging to a well-known name has for us, +when the Duke addressed me with a suave and lofty graciousness, his +manner being in a marked degree more ceremonious than the King's. + +"My Lord Arlington," said he, "has commended you, sir, as a young +gentleman of most loyal sentiments. My brother and we who love him have +great need of the services of all such." + +I stammered out an assurance of devotion. Arlington rose and took me by +the arm, whispering that I had no need to be embarrassed. But Mr +Hudleston turned a keen and searching glance on me, as though he would +read my thoughts. + +"I'm sure," said Arlington, "that Mr Dale is most solicitous to serve +His Majesty in all things." + +I bowed, saying to the Duke, + +"Indeed I am, sir. I ask nothing but an opportunity." + +"In all things?" asked Hudleston abruptly. "In all things, sir?" He +fixed his keen eyes on my face. + +Arlington pressed my arm and smiled pleasantly; he knew that kindness +binds more sheaves than severity. + +"Come, Mr Dale says in all things," he observed. "Do we need more, +sir?" + +But the Duke was rather of the priest's temper than of the Minister's. + +"Why, my lord," he answered, "I have never known Mr Hudleston ask a +question without a reason for it." + +"By serving the King in all things, some mean in all things in which +they may be pleased to serve the King," said Hudleston gravely. "Is Mr +Dale one of these? Is it the King's pleasure or his own that sets the +limit to his duty and his services?" + +They were all looking at me now, and it seemed as though we had passed +from courtly phrases, such as fall readily but with little import from a +man's lips, and had come to a graver matter. They were asking some +pledge of me, or their looks belied them. Why or to what end they +desired it, I could not tell; but Darrell, who stood behind the priest, +nodded his head to me with an anxious frown. + +"I will obey the King in all things," I began. + +"Well said, well said," murmured Arlington. + +"Saving," I proceeded, thinking it my duty to make this addition, and +not conceiving that there could be harm in it, "the liberties of the +Kingdom and the safety of the Reformed Religion." + +I felt Arlington's hand drawn half-away, but in an instant it was back, +and he smiled no less pleasantly than before. But the Duke, less able or +less careful to conceal his mood, frowned heavily, while Hudleston cried +impatiently, + +"Reservations! Kings are not served with reservations, sir." + +He made me angry. Had the Duke said what he did, I would have taken it +with a dutiful bow and a silent tongue. But who was this priest to rate +me in such a style? My temper banished my prudence, and, bending my head +towards him, I answered: + +"Yet the Crown itself is worn with these reservations, sir, and the King +himself allows them." + +For a moment nobody spoke. Then Arlington said, + +"I fear, sir, Mr Dale is as yet less a courtier than an honest +gentleman." + +The Duke rose to his feet. + +"I have found no fault with Mr Dale," said he haughtily and coldly, and, +taking no more heed of me, he walked away, while Hudleston, having +bestowed on me an angry glance, followed him. + +"Mr Dale, Mr Dale!" whispered Arlington, and with no more than that, +although still with a smile, he slipped his arm out of mine and left me, +beckoning Darrell to go with him. Darrell obeyed with a shrug of +despair. I was alone--and, as it seemed, ruined. Alas, why must I blurt +out my old lessons as though I had been standing again at my father's +knee and not in the presence of the Duke of York? Yes, my race was run +before it was begun. The Court was not the place for me. In great +bitterness I flung myself down on the cushions and sat there, out of +heart and very dismal. A moment passed; then the curtain behind me was +drawn aside, and an amused laugh sounded in my ear as I turned. A young +man leapt over the couch and threw himself down beside me, laughing +heartily and crying, + +"Well done, well done! I'd have given a thousand crowns to see their +faces!" + +I sprang to my feet in amazement and confusion, bowing low, for the +young man by me was the Duke of Monmouth. + +"Sit, man," said he, pulling me down again. "I was behind the curtain, +and heard it all. Thank God, I held my laughter in till they were gone. +The liberties of the Kingdom and the safety of the Reformed Religion! +Here's a story for the King!" He lay back, seeming to enjoy the jest +most hugely. + +"For the love of heaven, sir," I cried, "don't tell the King! I'm +already ruined." + +"Why, so you are, with my good uncle," said he. "You're new to Court, Mr +Dale?" + +"Most sadly new," I answered in a rueful tone, which set him laughing +again. + +"You hadn't heard the scandalous stories that accuse the Duke of loving +the Reformed Religion no better than the liberties of the Kingdom?" + +"Indeed, no, sir." + +"And my Lord Arlington? I know him! He held your arm, to the last, and +he smiled to the last?" + +"Indeed, sir, my lord was most gentle to me." + +"Aye, I know his way. Mr Dale, for this entertainment let me call you +friend. Come then, we'll go to the King with it." And, rising, he seized +me by the arm and began to drag me off. + +"Indeed your Grace must pardon me----" I began. + +"But indeed I will not," he persisted. Then he suddenly grew grave as he +said, "I am for the liberties of the Kingdom and the safety of the +Reformed Religion. Aren't we friends, then?" + +"Your Grace does me infinite honour." + +"And am I no good friend? Is there no value in the friendship of the +King's son--the King's eldest son?" He drew himself up with a grace and +a dignity which became him wonderfully. Often in these later days I see +him as he was then, and think of him with tenderness. Say what you will, +he made many love him even to death, who would not have lifted a finger +for his father or the Duke of York. + +Yet in an instant--such slaves are we of our moods--I was more than half +in a rage with him. For as we went we encountered Mistress Barbara on +Lord Carford's arm. The quarrel between them seemed past and they were +talking merrily together. On the sight of her the Duke left me and ran +forward. By an adroit movement he thrust Carford aside and began to ply +the lady with most extravagant and high-flown compliments, displaying +an excess of devotion which witnessed more admiration than respect. She +had treated me as a boy, but she did not tell him that he was a boy, +although he was younger than I; she listened with heightened colour and +sparkling eyes. I glanced at Carford and found, to my surprise, no signs +of annoyance at his unceremonious deposition. He was watching the pair +with a shrewd smile and seemed to mark with pleasure the girl's pride +and the young Duke's evident passion. Yet I, who heard something of what +passed, had much ado not to step in and bid her pay no heed to homage +that was empty if not dishonouring. + +Suddenly the Duke turned round and called to me. + +"Mr Dale," he cried, "there needed but one thing to bind us closer, and +here it is! For you are, I learn, the friend of Mistress Quinton, and I +am the humblest of her slaves, who serve all her friends for her sake." + +"Why, what would your Grace do for my sake?" asked Barbara. + +"What wouldn't I?" he cried, as if transported. Then he added rather +low, "Though I fear you're too cruel to do anything for mine." + +"I am listening to the most ridiculous speeches in the world for your +Grace's sake," said Barbara with a pretty curtsey and a coquettish +smile. + +"Is love ridiculous?" he asked. "Is passion a thing to smile at? Cruel +Mistress Barbara!" + +"Won't your Grace set it in verse?" said she. + +"Your grace writes it in verse on my heart," said he. + +Then Barbara looked across at me, it might be accidentally, yet it did +not appear so, and she laughed merrily. It needed no skill to measure +the meaning of her laugh, and I did not blame her for it. She had waited +for years to avenge the kiss that I gave Cydaria in the Manor Park at +Hatchstead; but was it not well avenged when I stood humbly, in +deferential silence, at the back while his Grace the Duke sued for her +favour, and half the Court looked on? I will not set myself down a churl +where nature has not made me one; I said in my heart, and I tried to say +to her with my eyes, "Laugh, sweet mistress, laugh!" For I love a girl +who will laugh at you when the game runs in her favour. + +The Duke fell to his protestations again, and Carford still listened +with an acquiescence that seemed strange in a suitor for the lady's +hand. But now Barbara's modesty took alarm; the signal of confusion flew +in her cheeks, and she looked round, distressed to see how many watched +them. Monmouth cared not a jot. I made bold to slip across to Carford, +and said to him in a low tone, + +"My lord, his Grace makes Mistress Barbara too much marked. Can't you +contrive to interrupt him?" + +He stared at me with a smile of wonder. But something in my look +banished his smile and set a frown in its place. + +"Must I have more lessons in manners from you, sir?" he asked. "And do +you include a discourse on the interrupting of princes?" + +"Princes?" said I. + +"The Duke of Monmouth is----" + +"The King's son, my lord," I interposed, and, carrying my hat in my +hand, I walked up to Barbara and the Duke. She looked at me as I came, +but not now mockingly; there was rather an appeal in her eyes. + +"Your Grace will not let me lose my audience with the King?" said I. + +He started, looked at me, frowned, looked at Barbara, frowned deeper +still. I remained quiet, in an attitude of great deference. Puzzled to +know whether I had spoken in sheer simplicity and ignorance, or with a +meaning which seemed too bold to believe in, he broke into a doubtful +laugh. In an instant Barbara drew away with a curtsey. He did not pursue +her, but caught my arm, and looked hard and straight in my face. I am +happily somewhat wooden of feature, and a man could not make me colour +now, although a woman could. He took nothing by his examination. + +"You interrupted me," he said. + +"Alas, your Grace knows how poor a courtier I am, and how ignorant----" + +"Ignorant!" he cried; "yes, you're mighty ignorant, no doubt; but I +begin to think you know a pretty face when you see it, Master Simon +Dale. Well, I'll not quarrel. Isn't she the most admirable creature +alive?" + +"I had supposed Lord Carford thought so, sir." + +"Oh! And yet Lord Carford did not hurry me off to find the King! But +you? What say you to the question?" + +"I'm so dazzled, sir, by all the beautiful ladies of His Majesty's Court +that I can hardly perceive individual charms." + +He laughed again, and pinched my arm, saying, + +"We all love what we have not. The Duke of York is in love with truth, +the King with chastity, Buckingham with modesty of demeanour, Rochester +with seemliness, Arlington with sincerity, and I, Simon--I do fairly +worship discretion!" + +"Indeed I fear I can boast of little, sir." + +"You shall boast of none, and thereby show the more, Simon. Come, +there's the King." And he darted on, in equal good humour, as it seemed, +with himself and me. Moreover, he lost no time on his errand; for when I +reached his side (since they who made way for him afforded me no such +civility) he had not only reached the King's chair, but was half-way +through his story of my answer to the Duke of York; all chance of +stopping him was gone. + +"Now I'm damned indeed," thought I; but I set my teeth, and listened +with unmoved face. + +At this moment the King was alone, save for ourselves and a little +long-eared dog which lay on his lap and was incessantly caressed with +his hand. He heard his son's story with a face as impassive as I strove +to render mine. At the end he looked up at me, asking, + +"What are these liberties which are so dear to you, sir?" + +My tongue had got me into trouble enough for one day, so I set its music +to a softer tune. + +"Those which I see preserved and honoured by your Majesty," said I, +bowing. + +Monmouth laughed, and clapped me on the back; but the King proceeded +gravely: + +"And this Reformed Religion that you set above my orders?" + +"The Faith, Sir, of which you are Defender." + +"Come, Mr Dale," said he, rather surly, "if you had spoken to my brother +as skilfully as you fence with me, he would not have been angry." + +I do not know what came over me. I said it in all honest simplicity, +meaning only to excuse myself for the disrespect I had shown to the +Duke; but I phrased the sentence most vilely, for I said: + +"When His Royal Highness questioned me, Sir, I had to speak the truth." + +Monmouth burst into a roar, and a moment later the King followed with a +more subdued but not less thorough merriment. When his mirth subsided he +said, + +"True, Mr Dale. I am a King, and no man is bound to speak truth to me. +Nor, by heaven--and there's a compensation--I to any man!" + +"Nor woman," said Monmouth, looking at the ceiling in apparent absence +of mind. + +"Nor even boy," added the King, with an amused glance at his son. "Well, +Mr Dale, can you serve me and this conscience of yours also?" + +"Indeed I cannot doubt it, Sir," said I. + +"A man's king should be his conscience," said the King. + +"And what should be conscience to the King, Sir?" asked Monmouth. + +"Why, James, a recognition of what evil things he may bring into the +world, if he doesn't mind his ways." + +Monmouth saw the hit, and took it with pretty grace, bending and kissing +the King's hand. + +"It is difficult, Mr Dale, to serve two masters," said the King, turning +again to me. + +"Your Majesty is my only master," I began; but the King interrupted me, +going on with some amusement: + +"Yet I should like to have seen my brother." + +"Let him serve me, Sir," cried Monmouth. "For I am firm in my love of +these liberties, aye, and of the Reformed Religion." + +"I know, James, I know," nodded the King. "It is grievous and strange, +however, that you should speak as though my brother were not." He +smiled very maliciously at the young Duke, who flushed red. The King +suddenly laughed, and fell to fondling the little dog again. + +"Then, Sir," said Monmouth, "Mr Dale may come with me to Dover?" + +My heart leapt, for all the talk now was of Dover, of the gaiety that +would be there, and the corresponding dulness in London, when the King +and the Duke were gone to meet Madame d'Orléans. I longed to go, and the +little hope I had cherished that Darrell's good offices with the +Secretary of State would serve me to that end had vanished. Now I was +full of joy, although I watched the King's face anxiously. + +For some reason the suggestion seemed to occasion him amusement; yet, +although for the most part he laughed openly without respect of matter +or person, he now bent over his little dog, as though he sought to hide +the smile, and when he looked up again it hung about his lips like the +mere ghost of mirth. + +"Why not?" said he. "To Dover, by all means. Mr Dale can serve you, and +me, and his principles, as well at Dover as in London." + +I bent on one knee and kissed his hand for the favour. When I sought to +do the like to Monmouth he was very ready, and received my homage most +regally. As I rose, the King was smiling at the pair of us in a +whimsical melancholy way. + +"Be off with you, boys," said he, as though we were a pair of lads from +the grammar school. "Ye are both fools; and James there is but +indifferently honest. But every hour's a chance, and every wench an +angel to you. Do what you will, and God forgive your sins." And he lay +back in his great chair with a good-humoured, lazy, weary smile, as he +idly patted the little dog. In spite of all that all men knew of him, I +felt my heart warm to him, and I knelt on my knee again, saying: + +"God save your Majesty." + +"God is omnipotent," said the King gravely. "I thank you, Mr Dale." + +Thus dismissed, we walked off together, and I was awaiting the Duke's +pleasure to relieve him also of my company, when he turned to me with a +smile, his white teeth gleaming: + +"The Queen sends a maid of honour to wait on Madame," said he. + +"Indeed, sir; it is very fitting." + +"And the Duchess sends one also. If you could choose from among the +Duchess's--for I swear no man in his senses would choose any of Her +Majesty's--whom would you choose, Mr. Dale?" + +"It is not for me to say, your Grace," I answered. + +"Well," said he, regarding me drolly, "I would choose Mistress Barbara +Quinton." And with a last laugh he ran off in hot pursuit of a lady who +passed at that moment and cast a very kindly glance at him. + +Left alone, but in a good humour that the Duke's last jest could not +embitter, I stood watching the scene. The play had begun now on a stage +at the end of the hall, but nobody seemed to heed it. They walked to and +fro, talking always, ogling, quarrelling, love-making, and intriguing. I +caught sight here of great ladies, there of beauties whose faces were +their fortune--or their ruin, which you will. Buckingham went by, fine +as a galley in full sail. The Duke of York passed with Mr Hudleston; my +salute went unacknowledged. Clifford came soon after; he bowed slightly +when I bowed to him, but his heartiness was gone. A moment later Darrell +was by my side; his ill-humour was over, but he lifted his hands in +comical despair. + +"Simon, Simon, you're hard to help," said he. "Alas, I must go to Dover +without you, my friend! Couldn't you restrain your tongue?" + +"My tongue has done me no great harm," said I, "and you needn't go to +Dover alone." + +"What?" he cried, amazed. + +"Unless the Duke of Monmouth and my Lord Arlington travel apart." + +"The Duke of Monmouth? What have you to do with him?" + +"I am to enter his service," I answered proudly; "and, moreover, I'm to +go with him to Dover to meet Madame d'Orléans." + +"Why, why? How comes this? How were you brought to his notice?" + +I looked at him, wondering at his eagerness. Then I took him by the +arm, and I said laughingly: + +"Come, I am teachable, and I have learnt my lesson." + +"What lesson do you mean?" + +"To restrain my tongue," said I. "Let those who are curious as to the +Duke of Monmouth's reasons for his favour to me, ask the Duke." + +He laughed, but I caught vexation in his laugh. + +"True, you're teachable, Simon," said he. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + +MADNESS, MAGIC, AND MOONSHINE + + +When the curtain had fallen on the little-heeded play and the gay crowd +began to disperse, I, perceiving that no more was to be seen or learnt, +went home to my lodging alone. After our conversation Darrell had left +me abruptly, and I saw him no more. But my own thoughts gave me +occupation enough; for even to a dull mind, and one unversed in Court +intrigues, it seemed plain that more hung on this expedition to Dover +than the meeting of the King's sister with her brother. So far all men +were of the same opinion; beyond, their variance began. I had not +thought to trouble my head about it, but, not having learnt yet that a +small man lives most comfortably with the great by opening his eyes and +ears only when bidden and keeping them tight locked for the rest, I was +inspired with eagerness to know the full meaning of the scene in which I +was now to play a part, however humble. Of one thing at least I was +glad--here I touched on a matter more suitable to my condition--and +this was that since Barbara Quinton was to go to Dover, I was to go +also. But, alas, neither here did perplexity lag far behind! It is easy +to know that you are glad to be with a lady; your very blood tells you; +but to say why is often difficult. I told myself that my sole cause for +pleasure lay in the services I might be able to render to my old +friend's daughter; she would want me to run her errands and do her +bidding; an attentive cavalier, however lowly, seldom comes amiss; these +pleas I muttered to myself, but swelling pride refused them, and for +once reason came as pride's ally, urging that in such company as would +assemble at Dover a girl might well need protection, no less than +compliments. It was true; my new master's bearing to her shewed how +true. And Carford was not, it seemed, a jealous lover. I was no +lover--my life was vowed to another most unhappy love--but I was a +gentleman, and (sweet thought!) the hour might come when the face which +had looked so mockingly at me to-night should turn again in appeal to +the wit and arm of Simon Dale. I grew taller as I thought of that, and, +coming just then to my own door, rapped with my cane as loudly and +defiantly as though I had been the Duke of Monmouth himself, and not a +gentleman in his suite. + +Loud as my rapping was, it brought no immediate answer. Again I knocked; +then feet came shuffling along the passage. I had aroused my sleepy +wretch; doubtless he would come groaning (for Jonah might not curse save +in the way of religion), and rubbing his eyes, to let me in. The door +opened and Jonah appeared; his eyes were not dull with sleep but seemed +to blaze with some strong excitement; he had not been to his bed, for +his dress was not disordered, and a light burnt bright in my parlour. To +crown all, from the same parlour came the sound of a psalm most shrilly +and villainously chanted through the nose in a voice familiar to my +ears. I, unlike my servant, had not bound myself against an oath where +the case called, and with a round one that sent Jonah's eyes in agony up +to the ceiling I pushed by him and ran into the parlour. A sonorous +"Amen" came pat with my entrance; Phineas Tate stood before me, lean and +pale, but calm and placid. + +"What in the devil's name brings you here?" I cried. + +"The service of God," he answered solemnly. + +"What, does it forbid sleep at nights?" + +"Have you been sleeping, young man?" he asked, pertinently enough, as I +must allow. + +"I have been paying my respects to His Majesty," said I. + +"God forgive him and you," was the retort. + +"Perhaps, sir, perhaps not," I replied, for I was growing angry. "But I +have asked your intercession no more than has the King. If Jonah brought +you here, it was without my leave; I beg you to take your +departure.--Jonah, hold the door there for Mr Tate." + +The man raised his hand impressively. + +"Hear my message first," he said. "I am sent unto you, that you may turn +from sin. For the Lord has appointed you to be his instrument. Even now +the plot is laid, even now men conspire to bring this kingdom again into +the bondage of Rome. Have you no ears, have you no eyes, are you blind +and deaf? Turn to me, and I will make you see and hear. For it is given +to me to show you the way." + +I was utterly weary of the fellow, and, in despair of getting quit of +him, flung myself into a chair. But his next words caught my attention. + +"The man who lives here with you--what of him? Is he not an enemy of +God?" + +"Mr Darrell is of the Romish faith," said I, smiling in spite of myself, +for a kinder soul than Darrell I had never met. + +Phineas came close to me, leaning over me with an admonishing forefinger +and a mysterious air. + +"What did he want with you?" he asked. "Yet cleave to him. Be where he +is, go where he goes." + +"If it comforts you, I am going where he goes," said I, yawning. "For we +are both going to Dover when the King goes." + +"It is God's finger and God's will!" cried Phineas, catching me by the +shoulder. + +"Enough!" I shouted, leaping up. "Keep your hands off me, man, if you +can't keep your tongue. What is it to you that we go to Dover?" + +"Aye, what?" came suddenly in Darrell's voice. He stood in the doorway +with a fierce and angry frown on his face. A moment later he was across +the room and laid his hand on Phineas. "Do you want another cropping of +your ears?" he asked. + +"Do your will on me," cried the fanatic. And sweeping away his lanky +hair he showed his ears; to my horror they had been cropped level across +their tops by the shears. "Do your will," he shrieked, "I am ready. But +your hour comes also, yea, your cup shall soon be full." + +Darrell spoke to him in low stern tones. + +"It may be more than ears, if you will not bridle your tongue. It's not +for you to question why the King comes or goes." + +I saw Jonah's face at the door, pale with fright as he looked at the two +men. The interest of the scene grew on me; the talk of Dover seemed to +pursue me strangely. + +"But this young man," pursued Phineas, utterly unmoved by Darrell's +threat, "is not of you; he shall be snatched from the burning, and by +his hand the Lord will work a great deliverance." + +Darrell turned to me and said stiffly: + +"This room is yours, sir, not mine. Do you suffer the presence of this +mischievous knave?" + +"I suffer what I can't help," I answered. "Mr Tate doesn't ask my +pleasure in his coming and going any more than the King asks Mr Tate's +in his." + +"It would do you no good, sir, to have it known that he was here," +Darrell reminded me with a significant nod of his head. + +Darrell had been a good friend to me and had won my regard, but, from an +infirmity of temper that I have touched on before, his present tone set +me against him. I take reproof badly, and age has hardly tamed me to it. + +"No good with whom?" I asked, smiling. "The Duke of York? My Lord +Arlington? Or do you mean the Duke of Monmouth? It is he whom I have to +please now." + +"None of them love Ranters," answered Darrell, keeping his face stiff +and inscrutable. + +"But one of them may prefer a Ranter to a Papist," laughed I. + +The thrust told, Darrell grew red. To myself I seemed to have hit +suddenly on the key of a mystery. Was I then a pawn in the great game of +the Churches, and Darrell another, and (to speak it with all due +respect), these grand dukes little better? Had Phineas Tate also his +place on the board where souls made the stakes? In such a game none is +too low for value, none too high for use. Surely my finger was on the +spring! At least I had confounded Darrell; his enemy, taking my help +readily enough, glared on him in most unchristian exultation, and then, +turning to me, cried in a species of fierce ecstasy, + +"Think not that because you are unworthy you shall not serve God. The +work sanctifies the instrument, yea, it makes clean that which is foul. +Verily, at His hour, God may work through a woman of sin." And he fixed +his eyes intently on me. + +I read a special meaning in his words; my thoughts flew readily to the +Cock and Pie in Drury Lane. + +"Yea, through a woman of sin," he repeated slowly and solemnly; then he +faced round, swift as the wind, on Darrell, and, minding my friend's +sullen scowl not a whit, cried to him, "Repent, repent, vengeance is +near!" and so at last was out of the room before either of us could +hinder him, had we wished, or could question him further. I heard the +house-door shut behind him, and I rose, looking at Darrell with an easy +smile. + +"Madness and moonshine, good friend," said I. "Don't let it disturb you. +If Jonah admits the fellow again he shall answer for it." + +"Indeed, Mr Dale, when I prayed you to share my lodging, I did not +foresee the nature of your company." + +"Fate more than choice makes a man's company," said I. "Now it's you, +now Phineas, now my lord the Secretary, and now his Grace the Duke. +Indeed, seeing how destiny--or, if you will, chance--rules, a man may +well be thought a fool who makes a plan or chooses a companion. For my +own part, I am fate's child and fate shall guide me." + +He was still stiff and cold with me, but my friendly air and my evident +determination to have no quarrel won him to civility if to no warmer +demonstration of regard. + +"Fate's child?" he asked with a little scorn, but seating himself and +smoothing his brow. "You're fate's child? Isn't that an arrogant speech, +Simon?" + +"If it weren't true, most arrogant," I answered. "Come, I'll tell you; +it's too soon for bed and too late to go abroad. Jonah, bring us some +wine, and if it be good, you shall be forgiven for admitting Master +Tate." + +Jonah went off and presently returned with a bottle, which we drank, +while I, with the candour I had promised, told my friend of Betty +Nasroth and her prophecy. He heard me with an attention which belied the +contempt he asserted; I have noticed that men pay heed to these things +however much they laugh at them. At the end, growing excited not only +with the wine but with the fumes of life which had been mounting into my +young brain all the day, I leapt up, crying aloud: + +"And isn't it true? Shan't I know what he hides? Shan't I drink of his +cup? For isn't it true? Don't I already, to my infinite misery, love +where he loves?" For the picture of Nell had come suddenly across me in +renewed strength and sweetness; when I had spoken I dropped again into +my chair and laid my head down on my arms. + +Silence followed; Darrell had no words of consolation for my woes and +left my love-lorn cry unheeded; presently then (for neglected sorrows do +not thrive) I looked furtively at him between the fingers of my hand. He +sat moody, thoughtful, and frowning. I raised my head and met his eyes. +He leant across the table, saying in a sneering tone, "A fine witch, on +my life! You should know what he hides?" + +"Aye." + +"And drink of his cup?" + +"Aye, so she said." + +He sat sunk in troubled thought, but I, being all this night torn to and +fro by changing and warring moods, sprang up again and cried in +boisterous scorn, "What, you believe these fables? Does God reveal +hidden things to old crones? I thought you at Court were not the fools +of such fancies! Aren't they fitter for rustic churls, Mr Darrell? God +save us, do we live in the days of King James?" + +He answered me shortly and sternly, as though I had spoken of things not +to be named lightly. + +"It is devil's work, all of it." + +"Then the devil is busier than he seems, even after a night at Court," I +said. "But be it whose work it will, I'll do it. I'll find what he +hides. I'll drink of his cup. Come, you're glum! Drink, friend Darrell! +Darrell, what's in his cup, what does he hide? Darrell, what does the +King hide?" + +I had caught him by the shoulder and was staring in his face. I was all +aglow, and my eyes, no doubt, shone bright with excitement and the +exhilaration of the wine. The look of me, or the hour of the night, or +the working of his own superstition, got hold of him, for he sprang up, +crying madly: + +"My God, do you know?" and glared into my face as though I had been the +very devil of whom I spoke. + +We stood thus for a full minute. But I grew cool before my companion, +wonder working the change in me sooner than confusion could in him. For +my random ravings had most marvellously struck on something more than my +sober speculations could discern. The man before me was mad--or he had a +secret. And friend Darrell was no madman. + +"Do I know?" I asked. "Do I know what? What could I, Simon Dale, know? +What in Heaven's name is there to know?" And I smiled cunningly, as +though I sought to hide knowledge by a parade of ignorance. + +"Nothing, nothing," he muttered uneasily. "The wine's got into my head." + +"Yet you've drunk but two glasses; I had the rest," said I. + +"That damned Ranter has upset me," he growled. "That, and the talk of +your cursed witch." + +"Can Ranters and witches make secrets where there are none?" said I with +a laugh. + +"They can make fools think there are secrets where there are none," said +he rudely. + +"And other fools ask if they're known," I retorted, but with a laugh; +and I added, "I'm not for a quarrel, secret or no secret, so if that's +your purpose in sitting the night through, to bed with you, my friend." + +Whether from prudence, or whether my good humour rebuked his temper, he +grew more gentle; he looked at me kindly enough and sighed, as he said: + +"I was to be your guide in London, Simon; but you take your own path." + +"The path you shewed me was closed in my face," said I, "and I took the +first that was opened to me." + +"By the Duke of Monmouth?" + +"Yes--or by another, if it had chanced to be another." + +"But why take any, Simon?" he urged persuasively. "Why not live in peace +and leave these great folk alone?" + +"With all my heart," I cried. "Is it a bargain? Whither shall we fly +from the turmoil?" + +"We!" he exclaimed with a start. + +"Aren't you sick of the same disease? Isn't the same medicine best for +you? Come, shall we both go to-morrow to Hatchstead--a pretty village, +Mr Darrell--and let the great folk go alone to Dover?" + +"You know I cannot. I serve my Lord Arlington." + +"And I the Duke of Monmouth." + +"But my Lord is the King's servant." + +"And his Grace the King's son." + +"Oh, if you're obstinate----" he began, frowning. + +"As fate, as prophecy, as witch, as Ranter, as devil, or as yourself!" I +said, laughing and throwing myself into a chair as he rose and moved +towards the door. + +"No good will come of it to you," he said, passing me on his way. + +"What loyal servant looks to make a profit of his service?" I asked, +smiling. + +"I wish you could be warned." + +"I'm warned, but not turned, Darrell. Come, we part friends?" + +"Why, yes, we are friends," he answered, but with a touch of hesitation. + +"Saving our duty to the King?" + +"If need should come for that reservation, yes," said he gravely. + +"And saving," said I, "the liberties of the Kingdom and the safety of +the Reformed Religion--if need should come for these reservations, Mr +Darrell," and I laughed to see the frown gather again on his brow. But +he made no reply, being unable to trust his self-control or answer my +light banter in its own kind. He left me with no more than a shake of +his head and a wave of his hand; and although we parted thus in amity +and with no feelings save of kindness for one another, I knew that +henceforth there must be a difference in our relations; the days of +confidence were gone. + +The recognition of my loss weighed little with me. The diffidence born +of inexperience and of strangeness to London and the Court was wearing +away; the desire for another's arm to lean on and another's eyes to see +with gave way before a young man's pride in his own arm's strength and +the keenness of his own vision. There was sport afoot; aye, for me in +those days all things were sport, even the high disputes of Churches or +of Kingdoms. We look at the world through our own glasses; little as it +recks of us, it is to us material and opportunity; there in the dead of +night I wove a dream wherein the part of hero was played by Simon Dale, +with Kings and Dukes to bow him on and off the stage and Christendom to +make an audience. These dream-doings are brave things: I pity the man +who performs none of them; for in them you may achieve without labour, +enjoy without expense, triumph without cruelty, aye, and sin mightily +and grandly with never a reckoning for it. Yet do not be a mean villain +even in your dreaming, for that sticks to you when you awake. + +I had supposed myself alone to be out of bed and Jonah Wall to have +slunk off in fear of my anger. But now my meditations were interrupted +by his entrance. He crept up to me in an uneasy fashion, but seemed to +take courage when I did not break into abuse, but asked him mildly why +he had not sought rest and what he wanted with me. His first answer was +to implore me to protect him from Mr Darrell's wrath; through Phineas +Tate, he told me timidly, he had found grace, and he could deny him +nothing; yet, if I bade him, he would not admit him again. + +"Let him come," said I carelessly. "Besides, we shall not be long here. +For you and I are going on a journey, Jonah." + +"A journey, sir?" + +"Ay, I go with the Duke of Monmouth, and you go with me, to Dover when +the King goes." + +Now, either Dover was on everybody's brain, or was very sadly on my +brain, for I swear even this fellow's eye seemed to brighten as I named +the place. + +"To Dover, sir?" + +"No less. You shall see all the gaiety there is to be seen, Jonah." + +The flush of interest had died away; he was dolefully tranquil and +submissive again. + +"Well, what do you want with me?" I asked, for I did not wish him to +suspect that I detected any change in his manner. + +"A lady came here to-day, sir, in a very fine coach with Flemish +horses, and asked for you. Hearing you were from home, she called to me +and bade me take a message for you. I prayed her to write it, but she +laughed, and said she spoke more easily than she wrote; and she bade me +say that she wished to see you." + +"What sort of lady was she, Jonah?" + +"She sat all the while in the coach, sir, but she seemed not tall; she +was very merry, sir." Jonah sighed deeply; with him merriment stood high +among the vices of our nature. + +"She didn't say for what purpose she wanted me?" I asked as carelessly +as I could. + +"No, sir. She said you would know the purpose, and that she would look +for you at noon to-morrow." + +"But where, Jonah?" + +"At a house called Burford House, sir, in Chelsea." + +"She gave you no name?" + +"I asked her name, and she gave me one." + +"What was it?" + +"It was a strange heathenish name, and she laughed as she gave it; +indeed she laughed all the time." + +"There's no sin in laughter," said I dryly. "You may leave me, I need no +help in undressing." + +"But the name----" + +"By Heaven, man, I know the name! Be off with you!" + +He shuffled off, his whole manner expressing reprobation, whether most +of my oath, or of the heathenish name, or of the lady who gave it, I +know not. + +Well, if he were so horror-stricken at these things, what would he say +at learning with whom he had talked? Perhaps he would have preached to +her, as had Phineas Tate, his master in religion. For, beyond doubt, +that heathenish name was Cydaria, and that fine coach with Flemish +horses--I left the question of that coach unanswered. + +The moment the door was shut behind my servant I sprang to my feet, +crying in a low but very vehement voice, "Never!" I would not go. Had +she not wounded me enough? Must I tear away the bandage from the gash? +She had tortured me, and asked me now, with a laugh, to be so good as +stretch myself on the rack again. I would not go. That laugh was cruel +insolence. I knew that laugh. Ah, why so I did--I knew it well--how it +rose and rippled and fell, losing itself in echoes scarcely audible, but +rich with enticing mirth. Surely she was cunningly fashioned for the +undoing of men; yes, and of herself, poor soul. What were her coaches, +and the Flemish horses, and the house called Burford House in Chelsea? A +wave of memory swept over me, and I saw her simple--well then, more +simple!--though always merry, in the sweet-smelling fields at home, +playing with my boy's heart as with a toy that she knew little of, but +yet by instinct handled deftly. It pleased her mightily, that toy, and +she seemed to wonder when she found that it felt. She did not feel; joy +was hers, nothing deeper. Yet could she not, might she not, would she +not? I knew what she was; who knew what she might be? The picture of her +rose again before my eyes, inviting a desperate venture, spurring me on +to an enterprise in which the effort seemed absurdity, and success would +have been in the eyes of the world calamity. Yet an exaltation of spirit +was on me, and I wove another dream that drove the first away; now I did +not go to Dover to play my part in great affairs and jostle for higher +place in a world where in God's eyes all places are equal and all low, +but away back to the country I had loved, and not alone. She should be +with me, love should dress penitence in glowing robes, and purity be +decked more gloriously than all the pomps of sin. Could it be? If it +could, it seemed a prize for which all else might be willingly +forgone--an achievement rare and great, though the page of no history +recorded it. + +Phineas Tate had preached to her, and gone away, empty and scorned. I +would preach too, in different tones and with a different gospel. Yet my +words should have a sweetness his had not, my gospel a power that should +draw where his repelled. For my love, shaken not yet shattered, wounded +not dead, springing again to full life and force, should breathe its +vital energy into her soul and impart of its endless abundance till her +heart was full. Entranced by this golden vision, I rose and looked from +the window at the dawning day, praying that mine might be the task, the +achievement, the reward. + +Bright dawned that day as I, with brighter brightness in my heart, +climbed the stairs that led to my bedroom. But as I reached the door of +it, I paused. There came a sound from the little closet beyond, where +Jonah stretched his weary legs, and, as I hoped, had forgotten in +harmless sleep the soul that he himself tormented worse than would the +hell he feared. No, he did not rest. From his closet came low, fervent, +earnest prayers. Listening a minute, half in scorn, half in pity, and in +no unkindness, I heard him. + +"Praise be to God," he said, "Who maketh the crooked places straight, +and openeth a path through the wilderness, and setteth in the hand of +His servant a sword wherewith to smite the ungodly even in high places." + +What crooked places were made straight, what path opened, what sword set +in Jonah's hand? Of the ungodly in high places there was no lack in the +days of King Charles. But was Jonah Wall to smite them? I opened my door +with a laugh. We were all mad that night, and my madness lasted till the +morning. Yes, till the morning grew full my second dream was with me. + + + + +CHAPTER IX + +OF GEMS AND PEBBLES + + +How I sought her, how I found her, that fine house of hers with the lawn +round it and the river by it, the stare of her lackeys, the pomp of her +living, the great lord who was bowed out as I went in, the maid who +bridled and glanced and laughed--they are all there in my memory, but +blurred, confused, beyond clear recall. Yet all that she was, looked, +said, aye, or left the clearer for being unsaid, is graven on my memory +in lines that no years obliterate and no change of mind makes hard to +read. She wore the great diamond necklace whose purchase was a fresh +text with the serious, and a new jest for the wits; on her neck it +gleamed and flashed as brilliantly and variously as the dazzling turns +in her talk and the unending chase of fleeting moods across her face. +Yet I started from my lodging, sworn to win her, and came home sworn to +have done with her. Let me tell it; I told it to myself a thousand times +in the days that followed. But even now, and for all the times that the +scene has played itself again before my unwilling eyes, I can scarcely +tell whence and how at the last, the change came. I think that the pomp +itself, the lord and the lackeys, the fine house, and all her state +struck as it were cold at my heart, dooming to failure the mad appeal +which they could not smother. But there was more; for all these might +have been, and yet not reached or infected her soul. But when I spoke to +her in words that had for me a sweetness so potent as to win me from all +hesitation and make as nothing the whole world beside, she did not +understand. I saw that she tried to understand; when she failed, I had +failed also. The flower was dead; what use then to cherish or to water +it? I had not thought it was dead, but had prayed that, faded and choked +though it were, yet it might find life in the sunshine of my love and +the water of her tears. But she did not weep, unless in a passing +petulance because I asked what she could not give; and the clouds swept +dark over my love's bright face. + +And now, alas, I am so wise that I cannot weep! I must rather smile to +have asked, than lament that my asking was in vain. I must wonder at her +patience in refusing kindly, and be no more amazed that she refused at +last. Yet this sad wisdom that sits well on age I do not love in youth. +I was a fool; but if to hold that good shall win and a true love prevail +be folly, let my sons be fools after me until their sons in turn catch +up from them the torch of that folly which illuminates the world. + +You would have said that she had not looked to see me, for she started +as though in surprise when I stood before her, saying, "You sent for +me." + +"I sent for you?" she cried, still as if puzzled; then, "Ah, I remember. +A whim seized me as I passed your lodging. Yet you deserved no such +favour, for you treated me very rudely--why, yes, with great +unkindness--last time we met. But I wouldn't have you think me +resentful. Old friends must forgive one another, mustn't they? Besides, +you meant no hurt, you were vexed, perhaps you were even surprised. Were +you surprised? No, you weren't surprised. But were you grieved, Simon?" + +I had been gazing dully at her, now I spoke heavily and dully. + +"You wear gems there on your neck," said I, pointing at the necklace. + +"Isn't the neck worthy?" she murmured quickly yet softly, pulling her +dress away to let me see the better, and raising her eyes to mine. + +"Yes, very worthy. But wouldn't you be grieved to find them pebbles?" + +"By my faith, yes!" she laughed, "for I paid the price of gems for +them." + +"I also paid the price of a gem," said I, "and thought I had it." + +"And it proved a pebble?" said she, leaning over me; for I had seated +myself in a chair, being in no mood for ceremony. + +"Yes, a pebble; a very pebble, a common pebble." + +"A common pebble!" she echoed. "Oh, Simon, cruel Simon! But a pretty +bright pebble? It looked like a gem, Simon?" + +"God forgive you, yes. In Heaven's name--then--long ago, when you came +to Hatchstead--what then? Weren't you then----" + +"No gem," said she. "Even then a pebble." Her voice sank a little, as +though for a single moment some unfamiliar shame came on her. "A common +pebble," she added, echoing my words. + +"Then God forgive you," said I again, and I leant my head on my hand. + +"And you, good Simon, do you forgive me?" + +I was silent. She moved away petulantly, crying, + +"You're all so ready to call on God to forgive! Is forgiveness God's +only? Will none of you forgive for yourselves? Or are you so righteous +that you can't do what God must?" + +I sprang up and came to her. + +"Forgive?" I cried in a low voice. "Ay, I'll forgive. Don't talk of +forgiveness to me. I came to love." + +"To love? Now?" Her eyes grew wide in wonder, amusement, and delight. + +"Yes," said I. + +"You loved the gem; you'd love the pebble? Simon, Simon, where is Madame +your mother, where my good friend the Vicar? Ah, where's your virtue, +Simon?" + +"Where yours shall be," I cried, seizing and covering her hands in mine. +"Where yours, there mine, and both in love that makes delight and virtue +one." I caught a hand to my lips and kissed it many times. "No sin comes +but by desire," said I, pleading, "and if the desire is no sin, there is +no sin. Come with me! I will fulfil all your desire and make your sin +dead." + +She shrank back amazed; this was strange talk to her; yet she left her +hand in mine. + +"Come with you? But whither, whither? We are no more in the fields at +Hatchstead." + +"We could be again," I cried. "Alone in the fields at Hatchstead." + +Even now she hardly understood what I would have, or, understanding, +could not believe that she understood rightly. + +"You mean--leave--leave London and go with you? With you alone?" + +"Yes--alone with your husband." + +She pulled her hand away with a jerk, crying, "You're mad!" + +"May be. Let me be mad, and be mad yourself also, sweetheart. If both of +us are mad, what hurt?" + +"What, I--I go--I leave the town--I leave the Court? And you?--You're +here to seek your fortune!" + +"Mayn't I dream that I've found it?" And again I caught her hand. + +After a moment she drew nearer to me; I felt her fingers press mine in +tenderness. + +"Poor Simon!" said she with a little laugh. "Indeed he remembers Cydaria +well. But Cydaria, such as she was, even Cydaria is gone. And now I am +not she." Then she laughed again, crying, "What folly!" + +"A moment ago you didn't call it folly." + +"Then I was doubly a fool," she answered with the first touch of +bitterness. "For folly it is, deep and black. I am not--nay, was I +ever?--one to ramble in green fields all day and go home to a cottage." + +"Never," said I. "Nor will be, save for the love of a man you love. Save +for that, what woman has been? But for that, how many!" + +"Why, very few," said she with a gentle little laugh. "And of that +few--I am not one. Nay, nor do I--am I cruel?--nor do I love you, +Simon." + +"You swear it?" + +"But a little--as a friend, an old friend." + +"And a dear one?" + +"One dear for a certain pleasant folly that he has." + +"You'll come?" + +"No." + +"Why not? But in a day neither you nor I would ask why." + +"I don't ask now. There's a regiment of reasons." Her laugh burst out +again; yet her eyes seemed tender. + +"Give me one." + +"I have given one. I don't love you." + +"I won't take it." + +"I am what I am." + +"You should be what I would make you." + +"You're to live at the Court. To serve the Duke of Monmouth, isn't it?" + +"What do I care for that? Are there no others?" + +"Let go my hand--No, let it go. See now, I'll show you. There's a ring +on it." + +"I see the ring." + +"A rich one." + +"Very rich." + +"Simon, do you guess who set it there?" + +"He is your King only while you make him such." + +"Nay," she cried with sudden passion, "I am set on my course." Then came +defiance. "I wouldn't change it. Didn't I tell you once that I might +have power with the King?" + +"Power? What's that to you? What's it to any of us beside love?" + +"Oh, I don't know anything about your love," she cried fretfully, "but I +know what I love--the stir, and the frowns of great ladies, and the +courting of great lords. Ah, but why do I talk? Do we reason with a +madman?" + +"If we are touched ever so little with his disease." + +She turned to me with sparkling eyes; she spoke very softly. + +"Ah, Simon, you too have a tongue! Can you also lure women? I think you +could. But keep it, Simon, keep it for your wife. There's many a maid +would gladly take the title, for you're a fine figure, and I think that +you know the way to a woman's heart." + +Standing above me (for I had sunk back in my chair) she caressed my +cheek gently with her hand. I was checked, but not beaten. My madness, +as she called it (as must not I also call it?), was still in me, hot and +surging. Hope was yet alive, for she had shown me tenderness, and once +it had seemed as though a passing shadow of remorse had shot across her +brightness. Putting out my hands, I took both of hers again, and so +looked up in her face, dumbly beseeching her; a smile quivered on her +lips as she shook her head at me. + +"Heaven keeps you for better things," she said. + +"I'd be the judge of them myself," I cried, and I sought to carry her +hands to my lips. + +"Let me go," she said; "Simon, you must let me go. Nay, you must. So! +Sit there, and I'll sit opposite to you." + +She did as she said, seating herself over against me, although quite +close. She looked me in the face. Presently she gave a little sigh. + +"Won't you leave me now?" she asked with a plaintive smile. + +I shook my head, but made no other answer. + +"I'm sorry," she went on softly, "that I came to Hatchstead; I'm sorry +that I brought you to London, that I met you in the Lane, that I brought +you here to-day. I didn't guess your folly. I've lived with players, and +with courtiers, and with--with one other; so I didn't dream of such +folly as yours. Yes, I'm sorry." + +"You can give me joy infinitely greater than any sorrow I've had by +you," said I in a low voice. + +On this she sat silent for a full minute, seeming to study my face. Then +she looked to right and left, as though she would fain have escaped. She +laughed a little, but grew grave again, saying, "I don't know why I +laughed," and sighing heavily. I watched every motion and change in her, +waiting for her to speak again. At last she spoke. + +"You won't be angry with me, Simon?" she asked coaxingly. + +"Why, no," I answered, wondering. + +"Nor run quite mad, nor talk of death, nor any horrors?" + +"I'll hear all you say calmly," I answered. + +She sat looking at me in a whimsical distress, seeming to deprecate +wrath and to pray my pardon yet still to hint amusement deep-hidden in +her mind. Then she drew herself up, and a strange and most pitiful +pride appeared on her face. I did not know the meaning of it. She leant +forward towards me, blushing a little, and whispered my name. + +"I'm waiting to hear you," said I; my voice came hard, stern, and cold. + +"You'll be cruel to me, I know you will," she cried petulantly. + +"On my life, no," said I. "What is it you want to say?" + +She was like a child who shows you some loved forbidden toy that she +should not have, but prizes above all her trifles; there was that sly +joy, that ashamed exultation in her face. + +"I have promises," she whispered, clasping her hands and nodding her +head at me. "Ah, they make songs on me, and laugh at me, and Castlemaine +looks at me as though I were the street-dirt under her feet. But they +shall see! Ay, they shall see that I can match them!" She sprang to her +feet in reckless merriment, crying, "Shall I make a pretty countess, +Simon?" She came near to me and whispered with a mysterious air, "Simon, +Simon!" + +I looked up at her sparkling eyes. + +"Simon, what's he whom you serve, whom you're proud to serve? Who is he, +I say?" She broke into a laugh of triumph. + +But I, hearing her laugh, and finding my heart filled with a sudden +terror, spread my hands over my eyes and fell back heavily in my chair, +like a sick man or a drunken. For now, indeed, I saw that my gem was +but a pebble. And the echo of her laugh rang in my ears. + +"So I can't come, Simon," I heard her say. "You see that I can't come. +No, no, I can't come"; and again she laughed. + +I sat where I was, hearing nothing but the echo of her laugh, unable to +think save of the truth that was driven so cruelly into my mind. The +first realising of things that cannot be undone brings to a young man a +fierce impotent resentment; that was in my heart, and with it a sudden +revulsion from what I had desired, as intemperate as the desire, as +cruel, it may be, as the thing which gave it birth. Nell's laughter died +away, and she was silent. Presently I felt a hand rest on my hands as +though seeking to convey sympathy in a grief but half-understood. I +shrank away, moving my hands till hers no longer touched them. There are +little acts, small matters often, on which remorse attends while life +lasts. Even now my heart is sore that I shrank away from her; she was +different now in nothing from what I had known of her; but I who had +desired passionately now shunned her; the thing had come home to me, +plain, close, in an odious intimacy. Yet I wish I had not shrunk away; +before I could think I had done it; and I found no words; better perhaps +that I attempted none. + +I looked up; she was holding out the hand before her; there was a +puzzled smile on her lips. + +"Does it burn, does it prick, does it soil, Simon?" she asked. "See, +touch it, touch it. It is as it was, isn't it?" She put it close by my +hand, waiting for me to take it, but I did not take it. "As it was when +you kissed it," said she; but still I did not take it. + +I rose to my feet slowly and heavily, like a tired man whose legs are +reluctant to resume their load. She stood quite still, regarding me now +with alarmed and wondering eyes. + +"It's nothing," I stammered. "Indeed it's nothing; only I hadn't thought +of it." + +Scarcely knowing what I did, I began to move towards the door. An +unreasoned instinct impelled me to get away from her. Yet my gaze was +drawn to her face; I saw her lips pouting and her cheek flushed, the +brightness of her eyes grew clouded. She loved me enough to be hurt by +me, if no more. A pity seized me; turning, I fell on my knee, and, +seizing the hand whose touch I had refused, I kissed it. + +"Ah, you kiss my hand now!" she cried, breaking into smiles again. + +"I kiss Cydaria's hand," said I. "For in truth I'm sorry for my +Cydaria." + +"She was no other than I am," she whispered, and now with a touch of +shame; for she saw that I felt shame for her. + +"Not what is hurts us, but what we know," said I. "Good-bye, Cydaria," +and again I kissed her hand. She drew it away from me and tossed her +head, crying angrily: + +"I wish I hadn't told you." + +"In God's name don't wish that," said I, and drew her gaze on me again +in surprise. I moved on my way, the only way my feet could tread. But +she darted after me, and laid her hand on my arm. I looked at her in +amazed questioning. + +"You'll come again, Simon, when--?" The smile would not be denied though +it came timidly, afraid for its welcome and distrustful of its right. +"When you're better, Simon?" + +I longed--with all my heart I longed--to be kind to her. How could the +thing be to her what it was to me? She could not understand why I was +aghast; extravagant despair, all in the style of a vanquished rival, +would have been easy for her to meet, to ridicule, to comfort. I knew +all this, but I could not find the means to affect it or to cover my own +distress. + +"You'll come again then?" she insisted pleadingly. + +"No," said I, bluntly, and cruelly with unwilling cruelty. + +At that a sudden gust of passion seized her and she turned on me, +denouncing me fiercely, in terms she took no care to measure, for a +prudish virtue that for good or evil was not mine, and for a narrowness +of which my reason was not guilty. I stood defenceless in the storm, +crying at the end no more than, "I don't think thus of you." + +"You treat me as though you thought thus," she cried. Yet her manner +softened and she came across to me, seeming now as if she might fall to +weeping. But at the instant the door opened and the saucy maid who had +ushered me in entered, running hastily to her mistress, in whose ears +she whispered, nodding and glancing the while at me. + +"The King!" cried Nell, and, turning to me, she added hastily: "He'd +best not find you here." + +"I ask no better than to be gone," said I. + +"I know, I know," she cried. "We're not disturbed! The King's coming +interrupts nothing, for all's finished. Go then, go, out of my sight." +Her anger seemed to rise again, while the serving-girl stared back +astonished as she passed out. But if she went to stay the King's coming, +she was too late. For he was in the doorway the instant she had passed +through; he had heard Nell's last speech, and now he showed himself, +asking easily, + +"Who's the gentleman of whose society you are so ready to be relieved?" + +I turned, bowing low. The King arched his brows. It may well be that he +had had enough of me already, and that he was not well pleased to +stumble on me again and in this place. But he said nothing, merely +turning his eyes to Nell in question. + +"You know him, Sir," said she, throwing herself into a chair. + +"Yes, I know him," said the King. "But, if I may ask without +presumption, what brings him here?" + +Nell looked at the pair of us, the King and Simon Dale, and answered +coolly, + +"My invitation." + +"The answer is all sufficient," bowed the King. "I'm before my time +then, for I received a like honour." + +"No, he's after his," said she. "But as you heard, Sir, I was urging him +to go." + +"Not on my account, I pray," said the King politely. + +"No, on his. He's not easy here." + +"Yet he outstayed his time!" + +"We had a matter of business together, Sir. He came to ask something of +me, but matters did not prove to be as he thought." + +"Indeed you must tell me more, or should have told me less. I'm of a +mighty curious disposition. Won't Mr Dale sit?" And the King seated +himself. + +"I will beg your Majesty's permission to depart," said I. + +"All requests here, sir, lie with this lady to grant or to refuse. In +this house I am a servant,--nay, a slave." + +Nell rose and coming to the side of the King's chair stood there. + +"Had things been other than they are, Mr Dale would have asked me to be +his wife," said she. + +A silence followed. Then the King remarked, + +"Had things been other than they are, Mr Dale would have done well." + +"And had they been other than they are, I might well have answered yes," +said Nell. + +"Why yes, very well," said the King. "For Mr Dale is, I'm very sure, a +gentleman of spirit and honour, although he seems, if I may say so, just +now rather taciturn." + +"But as matters are, Mr Dale would have no more of me." + +"It's not for me," said the King, "to quarrel with his resolve, although +I'm free to marvel at it." + +"And asks no more of me than leave to depart." + +"Do you find it hard, madame, to grant him that much?" + +She looked in the King's face and laughed in amusement, but whether at +him or me or herself I cannot tell. + +"Why, yes, mighty hard," said she. "It's strange how hard." + +"By my faith," said the King, "I begin to be glad that Mr Dale asked no +more. For if it be hard to grant him this little thing, it might have +been easy to grant him more. Come, is it granted to him?" + +"Let him ask for it again," said she, and leaving the King she came and +stood before me, raising her eyes to mine. "Would you leave me, Simon?" +she cried. + +"Yes, I would leave you, madame," said I. + +"To go whither?" + +"I don't know." + +"Yet the question isn't hard," interposed the King. "And the answer +is--elsewhere." + +"Elsewhere!" cried Nell. "But what does that mean, Sir?" + +"Nay, I don't know her name," said the King. "Nor, may be, does Mr Dale +yet. But he'll learn, and so, I hope, shall I, if I can be of service to +him." + +"I'm in no haste to learn it," cried Nell. + +"Why no," laughed the King. + +She turned to me again, holding out her hand as though she challenged me +to refuse it. + +"Good-bye, Simon," said she, and she broke into a strange little laugh +that seemed devoid of mirth, and to express a railing mockery of herself +and what she did. + +I saw the King watching us with attentive eyes and brows bent in a +frown. + +"Good-bye," said I. Looking into her eyes, I let my gaze dwell long on +her; it dwelt longer than I meant, reluctant to take last leave of old +friends. Then I kissed her hand and bowed very low to the King, who +replied with a good-natured nod; then turning I passed out of the room. + +I take it that the change from youth to manhood, and again from full +manhood to decline, comes upon us gradually, never ceasing but never +swift, as mind and body alike are insensibly transformed beneath the +assault of multitudinous unperceived forces of matter and of +circumstances; it is the result we know; that, not the process, is the +reality for us. We awake to find done what our sleepy brains missed in +the doing, and after months or years perceive ourselves in a second +older by all that period. We are jogged by the elbow, roused ruthlessly +and curtly bidden to look and see how we are changed, and wonder, weep, +or smile as may seem best to us in face of the metamorphosis. A moment +of such awakening came to me now; I seemed a man different from him who +had, no great number of minutes before, hastened to the house, inspired +by an insane hope, and aflame with a passion that defied reason and +summed up life in longing. The lackeys were there still, the maid's +smile altered only by a fuller and more roguish insinuation. On me the +change had passed, and I looked open-eyed on what I had been. Then came +a smile, close neighbour to a groan, and the scorn of my old self which +is the sad delirium wrought by moving time; but the lackey held the door +for me and I passed out. + +A noise sounded from above as the casement of the window was thrown +open. She looked out; her anger was gone, her emotion also seemed gone. +She stood there smiling, very kindly but with mockery. She held in +either hand a flower. One she smelt and held her face long to it, as +though its sweetness kept her senses willing prisoners; turning to the +other, she smelt it for a short instant and then drew away, her face, +that told every mood with unfailing aptness, twisted into disappointment +or disgust. She leant out looking down on me; now behind her shoulder I +saw the King's black face, half-hidden by the hangings of the window. +She glanced at the first flower, then at the second, held up both her +hands for a moment, turned for an instant with a coquettish smile +towards the swarthy face behind, then handed the first flower with a +laugh into a hand that was stretched out for it, and flung the second +down to me. As it floated through the air, the wind disengaged its loose +petals and they drifted away, some reaching ground, some caught by gusts +and carried away, circling, towards the house-tops. The stalk fell by +me, almost naked, stripped of its bloom. For the second flower was +faded, and had no sweetness nor life left in it. Again her laugh sounded +above me, and the casement closed. + +I bent and picked up the stalk. Was it her own mood she told me in the +allegory? Or was it the mood she knew to be in me? There had been an +echo of sorrow in the laugh, of pity, kindness, and regret: and the +laugh that she uttered in giving the fresh bloom to the King had seemed +pure derision. It was my love, not hers, that found its symbol in the +dying flower and the stalk robbed of its glory. She had said well, it +was as she said; I picked up what she flung and went on my way, hugging +my dead. + +In this manner then, as I, Simon the old, have shewn, was I, Simon the +young, brought back to my senses. It is all very long ago. + + + + +CHAPTER X + +JE VIENS, TU VIENS, IL VIENT + + +It pleased his Grace the Duke of Monmouth so to do all things that men +should heed his doing of them. Even in those days, and notwithstanding +certain transactions hereinbefore related, I was not altogether a fool, +and I had not been long about him before I detected this propensity and, +as I thought, the intention underlying it. To set it down boldly and +plainly, the more the Duke of Monmouth was in the eye of the nation, the +better the nation accustomed itself to regard him as the king's son; the +more it fell into the habit of counting him the king's son, the less +astonished and unwilling would it be if fate should place him on the +king's seat. Where birth is beyond reproach, dignity may be above +display; a defect in the first demands an ample exhibition of the +second. It was a small matter, this journey to Dover, yet, that he might +not go in the train of his father and the Duke of York, but make men +talk of his own going, he chose to start beforehand and alone; lest even +thus he should not win his meed of notice, he set all the inns and all +the hamlets on the road a-gossiping, by accomplishing the journey from +London to Canterbury, in his coach-and-six, between sunrise and sunset +of a single day. To this end it was needful that the coach should be +light; Lord Carford, now his Grace's inseparable companion, alone sat +with him, while the rest of us rode on horseback, and the Post supplied +us with relays where we were in want of them. Thus we went down +gallantly and in very high style, with his Grace much delighted at being +told that never had king or subject made such pace in his travelling +since the memory of man began. Here was reward enough for all the +jolting, the flogging of horses, and the pain of yokels pressed +unwillingly into pushing the coach with their shoulders through miry +places. + +As I rode, I had many things to think of. My woe I held at arm's length. +Of what remained, the intimacy between his Grace and my Lord Carford, +who were there in the coach together, occupied my mind most constantly. +For by now I had moved about in the world a little, and had learnt that +many counted Carford no better than a secret Papist, that he was held in +private favour, but not honoured in public, by the Duke of York, and +that communications passed freely between him and Arlington by the hand +of the secretary's good servant and my good friend Mr Darrell. Therefore +I wondered greatly at my lord's friendship with Monmouth, and at his +showing an attachment to the Duke which, as I had seen at Whitehall, +appeared to keep in check even the natural jealousy and resentment of a +lover. But at Court a man went wrong if he held a thing unlikely because +there was dishonour in it. There men were not ashamed to be spies +themselves, nor to use their wives in the same office. There to see no +evil was to shut your eyes. I determined to keep mine open in the +interests of my new patron, of an older friend, and perhaps of myself +also, for Carford's present civility scarcely masked his dislike. + +We reached Canterbury while the light of the long summer evening still +served, and clattered up the street in muddy bravery. The town was out +to see his Grace, and his Grace was delighted to be seen by the town. +If, of their courtesy, they chose to treat him as a Prince, he could +scarcely refuse their homage, and if he accepted it, it was better to +accept like one to the manner born than awkwardly; yet I wondered +whether my lord made a note in his aspiring brain of all that passed, +and how soon the Duke of York would know that a Prince of Wales, coming +to Canterbury, could have received no greater honour. Nay, and they +hailed him as the champion of the Church, with hits at the Romish faith, +which my lord heard with eyes downcast to the ground and a rigid smile +carved on his face. It was all a forecast of what was one day to be; +perhaps to the hero of it a suggestion of what some day might be. At +least he was radiant over it, and carried Carford off with him into his +apartment in the merriest mood. He did not invite me to join his party, +and I was well content to be left to wander for an hour in the quiet +close of the great cathedral. For let me say that a young man who has +been lately crossed in love is in a better mood for most unworldly +meditation, than he is likely to be before or after. And if he would not +be taken too strictly at his word in all he says to himself then, why, +who would, pray, and when? + +It was not my fault, but must be imputed to our nature, that in time my +stomach cried out angrily at my heart, and I returned to the inn, +seeking supper. His Grace was closeted with my lord, and I turned into +the public room, desiring no other company than what should lie on my +plate. But my host immediately made me aware that I must share my meal +and the table with a traveller who had recently arrived and ordered a +repast. This gentleman, concerning whom the host seemed in some +perplexity, had been informed that the Duke of Monmouth was in the +house, but had shown neither excitement at the news nor surprise, nor, +to the host's great scandal, the least desire for a sight of his Grace. +His men-servants, of whom he had two, seemed tongue-tied, so that the +host doubted if they had more than a few phrases of English, and set the +whole party down for Frenchmen. + +"Hasn't the gentleman given his name?" I asked. + +"No. He didn't offer it, and since he flung down money enough for his +entertainment I had no cause to ask it." + +"None," I remarked, "unless a man may be allowed more curiosity than a +beast. Stir yourself about supper," and walking in, I saluted, with all +the courtesy at my command, a young gentleman of elegant appearance (so +far as I could judge of him in traveller's garb) who sat at the table. +His greetings equalled mine in politeness, and we fell into talk on +different matters, he using the English language, which he spoke with +remarkable fluency, although evidently as a foreigner. His manner was +easy and assured, and I took it for no more than an accident that his +pistol lay ready to his hand, beside a small case or pocket-book of +leather on the table. He asked me my business, and I told him simply +that I was going in the Duke's train to Dover. + +"Ah, to meet Madame the Duchess of Orleans?" said he. "I heard of her +coming before I left France. Her visit, sir, will give great pleasure to +the King her brother." + +"More, if report speaks true, than to the Prince her husband," said I +with a laugh. For the talk at Court was that the Duke of Orleans hated +to let his wife out of his sight, while she for her part hated to be in +it. Both had their reasons, I do not doubt. + +"Perhaps," he answered with a shrug. "But it's hard to know the truth +in these matters. I am myself acquainted with many gentlemen at the +French Court, and they have much to say, but I believe little of it." + +Though I might commend his prudence, I was not encouraged to pursue the +topic, and, seeking a change of conversation, I paid him a compliment on +his mastery of English, hazarding a suggestion that he must have passed +some time in this country. + +"Yes," he replied, "I was in London for a year or more a little while +ago." + +"Your English puts my French to the blush," I laughed, "else hospitality +would bid me use your language." + +"You speak French?" he asked. "I confess it is easier to me." + +"Only a little, and that learnt from merchants, not at Court." For +traders of all nations had come from time to time to my uncle's house at +Norwich. + +"But I believe you speak very well," he insisted politely. "Pray let me +judge of your skill for myself." + +I was about to oblige him, when a loud dispute arose outside, French +ejaculations mingling with English oaths. Then came a scuffle. With a +hurried apology, the gentleman sprang to his feet and rushed out. I went +on with my supper, supposing that his servants had fallen into some +altercation with the landlord and that the parties could not make one +another understand. My conjecture was confirmed when the traveller +returned, declaring that the quarrel arose over the capacity of a +measure of wine and had been soon arranged. But then, with a little cry +of vexation, he caught up the pocket-book from the table and darted a +quick glance of suspicion at me. I was more amazed than angry, and my +smile caused him confusion, for he saw that I had detected his fear. +Thinking him punished enough for his rudeness (although it might find +some excuse in the indifferent honesty of many who frequented the roads +in the guise of travellers) I relieved him by resuming our conversation, +saying with a smile, + +"In truth my French is a school-boy's French. I can tell the parts of +the verb _J'aime, tu aimes, il aime;_ it goes so far, sir, and no +farther." + +"Not far in speech, though often far enough in act," he laughed. + +"Truly," said I with a sigh. + +"Yet I swear you do yourself injustice. Is there no more?" + +"A little more of the same sort, sir." And, casting about for another +phrase with which to humour him, I took the first that came to my +tongue; leaning my arms on the table (for I had finished eating), I said +with a smile, "Well, what say you to this? This is something to know, +isn't it? _Je viens, tu viens, il vient._" + +As I live, he sprang to his feet with a cry of alarm! His hand darted to +his breast where he had stowed the pocket-book; he tore it out and +examined the fastening with furious haste and anxiety. I sat struck +still with wonder; the man seemed mad. He looked at me now, and his +glance was full of deepest suspicion. He opened his mouth to speak, but +words seemed to fail him; he held out the leathern case towards me. +Strange as was the question that his gesture put I could not doubt it. + +"I haven't touched the book," said I. "Indeed, sir, only your visible +agitation can gain you pardon for the suggestion." + +"Then how--how?" he muttered. + +"You pass my understanding, sir," said I in petulant amusement. "I say +in jest 'I come, thou comest, he comes,' and the words act on you like +abracadabra and the blackest of magic. You don't, I presume, carry a +hornbook of French in your case; and if you do, I haven't robbed you of +it." + +He was turning the little case over and over in his hands, again +examining the clasps of it. His next freak was to snatch his pistol and +look to the priming. I burst out laughing, for his antics seemed absurd. +My laughter cooled him, and he made a great effort to regain his +composure. But I began to rally him. + +"Mayn't a man know how to say in French 'He comes' without stealing the +knowledge from your book, sir?" I asked. "You do us wrong if you think +that so much is known to nobody in England." + +He glared at me like a man who hears a jest, but cannot tell whether it +conceals earnest or not. + +"Open the case, sir," I continued in raillery. "Make sure all is there. +Come, you owe me that much." + +To my amazement he obeyed me. He opened the case and searched through +certain papers which it contained; at the end he sighed as though in +relief, yet his suspicious air did not leave him. + +"Now perhaps, sir," said I, squaring my elbows, "you'll explain the +comedy." + +That he could not do. The very impossibility of any explanation showed +that I had, in the most unexpected fashion, stumbled on some secret with +him even as I had before with Darrell. Was his secret Darrell's or his +own, the same or another? What it was I could not tell, but for certain +there it was. He had no resource but to carry the matter with a high +hand, and to this he betook himself with the readiness of his nation. + +"You ask an explanation, sir?" he cried. "There's nothing to explain, +and if there were, I give explanations when I please, and not to every +fellow who chooses to ask them of me." + +"I come, thou comest, he comes,--'tis a very mysterious phrase," said I. +"I can't tell what it means. And if you won't tell me, sir, I must ask +others." + +"You'll be wiser to ask nobody," he said menacingly. + +"Nay, I shall be no wiser if I ask nobody," I retorted with a smile. + +"Yet you'll tell nobody of what has passed," said he, advancing towards +me with the plain intention of imposing his will on me by fear, since +persuasion failed. I rose to my feet and answered, mimicking his +insolent words, + +"I give promises, sir, when I please, and not to every fellow who +chooses to ask them of me." + +"You shall give me your promise before you leave this room," he cried. + +His voice had been rising in passion and was now loud and fierce. +Whether the sound of it had reached the room above, or whether the Duke +and Carford had grown weary of one another, I do not know, but as the +French gentleman uttered this last threat Carford opened the door, stood +aside to let his Grace enter, and followed himself. As they came in, we +were in a most hostile attitude; for the Frenchman's pistol was in his +hand, and my hand had flown to the hilt of my sword. The Duke looked at +us in astonishment. + +"Why, what's this, gentlemen?" he said. "Mr Dale, are you at variance +with this gentleman?" But before I had time to answer him, he had +stepped forward and seen the Frenchman's face. "Why, here is M. de +Fontelles!" he cried in surprise. "I am very pleased to see you, sir, +again in England. Carford, here is M. de Fontelles. You were acquainted +with him when he was in the suite of the French Ambassador? You carry a +message, sir?" + +I listened keenly to all that the Duke's words told me. M. de Fontelles +bowed low, but his confusion was in no way abated, and he made no answer +to his Grace's question. The Duke turned to me, saying with some +haughtiness, + +"This gentleman is a friend of mine, Mr Dale. Pray why was your hand on +your sword?" + +"Because the gentleman's pistol was in his hand, sir." + +"You appear always to be very ready for a quarrel, Mr Dale," said the +Duke, with a glance at Carford. "Pray, what's the dispute?" + +"I'll tell your Grace the whole matter," said I readily enough, for I +had nothing to blame myself with. + +"No, I won't have it told," cried M. de Fontelles. + +"It's my pleasure to hear it," said the Duke coldly. + +"Well, sir, it was thus," said I, with a candid air. "I protested to +this gentleman that my French was sadly to seek; he was polite enough to +assure me that I spoke it well. Upon this I owned to some small +knowledge, and for an example I said to him, '_J'aime, tu aimes, il +aime_.' He received the remark, sir, with the utmost amiability." + +"He could do no less," said the Duke with a smile. + +"But he would have it that this didn't exhaust my treasure of learning. +Therefore, after leaving me for a moment to set straight a difference +that had arisen between his servants and our host, he returned, put away +a leathern case that he had left on the table (concerning which indeed +he seemed more uneasy than would be counted courteous here in England, +seeing that I had been all the while alone in the room with it), and +allowed me to resume my exhibition of French-speaking. To humour him and +to pass away the hour during which I was deprived of the pleasure of +attending your Grace----" + +"Yes, yes, Mr Dale. Don't delay in order to compliment me," said the +Duke, smiling still. + +"I leant across the table, sir, and I made him a speech that sent him, +to all seeming, half-way out of his senses; for he sprang up, seized his +case, looked at the fastenings, saw to the priming of his pistol, and +finally presumed to exact from me a promise that I would consult nobody +as to the perplexity into which this strange behaviour of his had flung +me. To that I demurred, and hence the quarrel with which I regret most +humbly that your Grace should have been troubled." + +"I'm obliged to you, Mr Dale. But what was this wonder-working phrase?" + +"Why, sir, just the first that came into my head. I said to the +gentleman--to M. de Fontelles, as I understand him to be called--I said +to him softly and gently--_Je viens, tu viens_----" + +The Duke seized me by the arm, with a sudden air of excitement. Carford +stepped forward and stood beside him. + +"_Je viens, tu viens_.... Yes! And any more?" cried the Duke. + +"Yes, your Grace," I answered, again amazed. "I completed what +grammarians call the Singular Number by adding '_Il vient;_' +whereupon--but I have told you." + +"_Il vient?_" cried the Duke and Carford all in a breath. + +"_Il vient_," I repeated, thinking now that all the three had run mad. +Carford screened his mouth with his hand and whispered in the Duke's +ear. The Duke nodded and made some answer. Both seemed infinitely +stirred and interested. M. de Fontelles had stood in sullen silence by +the table while I told the story of our quarrel; now his eyes were fixed +intently on the Duke's face. + +"But why," said I, "that simple phrase worked such strange agitation in +the gentleman, your Grace's wisdom may discover. I am at a loss." + +Still Carford whispered, and presently the Duke said, + +"Come, gentlemen, you've fallen into a foolish quarrel where no quarrel +need have come. Pray be friends again." + +M. de Fontelles drew himself up stiffly. + +"I asked a promise of that gentleman, and he refused it me," he said. + +"And I asked an explanation of that gentleman, and he refused it me," +said I, just as stiffly. + +"Well, then, Mr Dale shall give his promise to me. Will that be +agreeable to you, Mr Dale?" + +"I'm at your Grace's commands, in all things," I answered, bowing. + +"And you'll tell nobody of M. de Fontelles' agitation?" + +"If your Grace pleases. To say the truth, I don't care a fig for his +fierceness. But the explanation, sir?" + +"Why, to make all level," answered the Duke, smiling and fixing his gaze +upon the Frenchman, "M. de Fontelles will give his explanation to me." + +"I cry agreed, your Grace!" said I. "Come, let him give it." + +"To me, Mr Dale, not to you," smiled the Duke. + +"What, am I not to hear why he was so fierce with me?" + +"You don't care a fig for his fierceness, Mr Dale," he reminded me, +laughing. + +I saw that I was caught, and had the sense to show no annoyance, +although I must confess to a very lively curiosity. + +"Your Grace wishes to be alone with M. de Fontelles?" I asked readily +and deferentially. + +"For a little while, if you'll give us leave," he answered, but he added +to Carford, "No, you needn't move, Carford." + +So I made my bow and left them, not well pleased, for my brain was on +the rack to discover what might be the secret which hung on that +mysterious phrase, and which I had so nearly surprised from M. de +Fontelles. + +"The gist of it," said I to myself, as I turned to the kitchen, "lies, +if I am not mistaken, in the third member. For when I had said _Je +viens, tu viens_, the Duke interrupted me, crying, 'Any more?'" + +I had made for the kitchen since there was no other room open to me, and +I found it tenanted by the French servants of M. de Fontelles. Although +peace had been made between them and the host, they sat in deep +dejection; the reason was plain to see in two empty glasses and an empty +bottle that stood on a table between them. Kindliness, aided, it may be, +by another motive, made me resolve to cure their despondency. + +"Gentlemen," said I in French, going up to them, "you do not drink!" + +They rose, bowing, but I took a third chair between them and motioned +them to be seated. + +"We have not the wherewithal, sir," said one with a wistful smile. + +"The thing is mended as soon as told," I cried, and, calling the host, I +bade him bring three bottles. "A man is more at home with his own +bottle," said I. + +With the wine came new gaiety, and with gaiety a flow of speech. M. de +Fontelles would have admired the fluency with which I discoursed with +his servants, they telling me of travelling in their country, I +describing the incidents of the road in England. + +"There are rogues enough on the way in both countries, I'll warrant," I +laughed. "But perhaps you carry nothing of great value and laugh at +robbers?" + +"Our spoil would make a robber a poor meal, sir; but our master is in a +different plight." + +"Ah! He carries treasure?" + +"Not in money, sir," answered one. The other nudged him, as though to +bid him hold his tongue. + +"Come, fill your glasses," I cried, and they obeyed very readily. + +"Well, men have met their death between here and London often enough +before now," I pursued meditatively, twisting my glass of wine in my +fingers. "But with you for his guard, M. de Fontelles should be safe +enough." + +"We're charged to guard him with our lives, and not leave him till he +comes to the Ambassador's house." + +"But these rogues hunt sometimes in threes and fours," said I. "You +might well lose one of your number." + +"We're cheap, sir," laughed one. "The King of France has many of us." + +"But if your master were the one?" + +"Even then provision is made." + +"What? Could you carry his message--for if his treasure isn't money, I +must set it down as tidings--to the Ambassador." + +They looked at one another rather doubtfully. But I was not behindhand +in filling their glasses. + +"Still we should go on, even without _Monsieur_," said one. + +"But to what end?" I cried in feigned derision. + +"Why, we too have a message." + +"Indeed. Can you carry the King's message?" + +"None better, sir," said the shorter of the pair, with a shrewd twinkle +in his eye. "For we don't understand it." + +"Is it difficult then?" + +"Nay, it's so simple as to see without meaning." + +"What, so simple--but your bottle is empty! Come, another?" + +"Indeed no, _Monsieur_." + +"A last bottle between us! I'll not be denied." And I called for a +fourth. + +When we were well started on the drinking of it, I asked carelessly, + +"And what's your message?" + +But neither the wine nor the negligence of my question had quite lulled +their caution to sleep. They shook their heads, and laughed, saying, + +"We're forbidden to tell that." + +"Yet, if it be so simple as to have no meaning, what harm in telling +it?" + +"But orders are orders, and we're soldiers," answered the shrewd short +fellow. + +The idea had been working in my brain, growing stronger and stronger +till it reached conviction. I determined now to put it to the proof. + +"Tut," said I. "You make a pretty secret of it, and I don't blame you. +But I can guess your riddle. Listen. If anything befell M. de Fontelles, +which God forbid----" + +"Amen, amen," they murmured with a chuckle. + +"You two, or if fate left but one, that one, would ride on at his best +speed to London, and there seek out the Ambassador of the Most Christian +King. Isn't it so?" + +"So much, sir, you might guess from what we've said." + +"Ay, ay, I claim no powers of divination. Yet I'll guess a little more. +On being admitted to the presence of the Ambassador, he would relate the +sad fate of his master, and would then deliver his message, and that +message would be----" I drew my chair forward between them and laid a +finger on the arm of each. "That message," said I, "would be just like +this--and indeed it's very simple, and seems devoid of all rational +meaning: _Je viens_." They started. "_Tu viens._" They gaped. "_Il +vient_," I cried triumphantly, and their chairs shot back as they sprang +to their feet, astonishment vivid on their faces. For me, I sat there +laughing in sheer delight at the excellence of my aim and the shrewdness +of my penetration. + +What they would have said, I do not know. The door was flung open and M. +de Fontelles appeared. He bowed coldly to me and vented on his servants +the anger from which he was not yet free, calling them drunken knaves +and bidding them see to their horses and lie down in the stable, for he +must be on his way by daybreak. With covert glances at me which implored +silence and received the answer of a reassuring nod, they slunk away. I +bowed to M. de Fontelles with a merry smile; I could not conceal my +amusement and did not care how it might puzzle him. I strode out of the +kitchen and made my way up the stairs. I had to pass the Duke's +apartment. The light still burned there, and he and Carford were sitting +at the table. I put my head in. + +"If your Grace has no need of me, I'll seek my bed," said I, mustering a +yawn. + +"No need at all," he answered. "Good-night to you, Simon." But then he +added, "You'll keep your promise to me?" + +"Your Grace may depend on me." + +"Though in truth I may tell you that the whole affair is nothing; it's +no more than a matter of gallantry, eh, Carford?" + +"No more," said my Lord Carford. + +"But such matters are best not talked of." + +I bowed as he dismissed me, and pursued my way to my room. A matter of +gallantry might, it seemed, be of moment to the messengers of the King +of France. I did not know what to make of the mystery, but I knew there +was a mystery. + +"And it turns," said I to myself, "on those little words '_Il vient_.' +Who is he? Where comes he? And to what end? Perhaps I shall learn these +things at Dover." + +There is this to be said. A man's heart aches less when his head is +full. On that night I did not sigh above half my usual measure. + + + + +CHAPTER XI + +THE GENTLEMAN FROM CALAIS + + +Good fortune and bad had combined to make me somewhat more of a figure +in the eyes of the Court than was warranted by my abilities or my +station. The friend of Mistress Gwyn and the favourite of the Duke of +Monmouth (for this latter title his Grace's signal kindness soon +extorted from the amused and the envious) was a man whom great folk +recognised, and to whom small folk paid civility. Lord Carford had +become again all smiles and courtesy; Darrell, who arrived in the +Secretary's train, compensated in cordiality for what he lacked in +confidence; my Lord Arlington himself presented me in most flattering +terms to the French King's envoy, M. Colbert de Croissy, who, in his +turn, greeted me with a warmth and regarded me with a curiosity that +produced equal gratification and bewilderment in my mind. Finally, the +Duke of Monmouth insisted on having me with him in the Castle, though +the greater part of the gentlemen attached to the Royal and noble +persons were sent to lodge in the town for want of accommodation within +the walls. My private distress, from which I recovered but slowly, or, +to speak more properly, suppressed with difficulty, served to prevent me +from becoming puffed up with the conceit which this success might well +have inspired. + +The first part of Betty Nasroth's prophecy now stood fulfilled, ay, as I +trusted, utterly finished and accomplished; the rest tarried. I had +guessed that there was a secret, what it was remained unknown to me and, +as I soon suspected, to people more important. The interval before the +arrival of the Duchess of Orleans was occupied in many councils and +conferences; at most of them the Duke of Monmouth was present, and he +told me no more than all the Court conjectured when he said that Madame +d'Orléans came with a project for a new French Alliance and a fresh war +with the Dutch. But there were conferences at which he was not present, +nor the Duke of Buckingham, but only the King, his brother (so soon as +his Royal Highness joined us from London), the French Envoy, and +Clifford and Arlington. Of what passed at these my master knew nothing, +though he feigned knowledge; he would be restless when I, having used my +eyes, told him that the King had been with M. Colbert de Croissy for two +hours, and that the Duke of York had walked on the wall above an hour in +earnest conversation with the Treasurer. He felt himself ignored, and +poured out his indignation unreservedly to Carford. Carford would frown +and throw his eyes towards me, as though to ask if I were to hear these +things, but the Duke refused his suggestion. Nay, once he said in jest: + +"What I say is as safe with him as with you, my lord, or safer." + +I wondered to see Carford indignant. + +"Why do you say safer, sir?" he asked haughtily, while the colour on his +cheeks was heightened. "Is any man's honour more to be trusted than +mine?" + +"Ah, man, I meant nothing against your honour; but Simon here has a +discretion that heaven does not give to everyone." + +Now, when I see a man so sensitive to suspicion as to find it in every +careless word, I am set thinking whether he may not have some cause to +fear suspicion. Honesty expects no accusation. Carford's readiness to +repel a charge not brought caught my notice, and made me ponder more on +certain other conferences to which also his Grace my patron was a +stranger. More than once had I found Arlington and Carford together, +with M. Colbert in their company, and on the last occasion of such an +encounter Carford had requested me not to mention his whereabouts to the +Duke, advancing the trivial pretext that he should have been engaged on +his Grace's business. His Grace was not our schoolmaster. But I was +deceived, most amiably deceived, and held my tongue as he prayed. Yet I +watched him close, and soon, had a man told me that the Duke of York +thought it well to maintain a friend of his own in his nephew's +confidence, I would have hazarded that friend's name without fear of +mistake. + +So far the affair was little to me, but when Mistress Barbara came from +London the day before Madame was to arrive, hardly an hour passed before +I perceived that she also, although she knew it not, had her part to +play. I cannot tell what reward they offered Carford for successful +service; if a man who sells himself at a high price be in any way less a +villain than he who takes a penny, I trust that the price was high; for +in pursuance of the effort to obtain Monmouth's confidence and an +ascendency over him, Carford made use of the lady whom he had courted, +and, as I believed, still courted, for his own wife. He threw her in +Monmouth's way by tricks too subtle for her to detect, but plain to an +attentive observer. I knew from her father that lately he had again +begged her hand, and that she had listened with more show of favour. Yet +he was the Duke's very humble servant in all the plans which that +headstrong young man now laid against the lady's peace and honour. Is +there need to state the scheme more plainly? In those days a man might +rise high and learn great secrets, if he knew when to shut his eyes and +how to knock loud before he entered the room. + +I should have warned her. It is true; but the mischief lay in the fact +that by no means could I induce her to exchange a word with me. She was +harder by far to me than she had shewn herself in London. Perhaps she +had heard how I had gone to Chelsea; but whether for good reason or bad, +my crime now seemed beyond pardon. Stay; perhaps my condition was below +her notice; or sin and condition so worked together that she would have +nothing of me, and I could do nothing but look on with outward calm and +hidden sourness while the Duke plied her with flatteries that soon grew +to passionate avowals, and Carford paid deferential suit when his +superior was not in the way. She triumphed in her success as girls will, +blind to its perils as girls are; and Monmouth made no secret of his +hopes of success, as he sat between Carford's stolid face and my +downcast eyes. + +"She's the loveliest creature in the world," he would cry. "Come, drink +a toast to her!" I drank silently, while Carford led him on to +unrestrained boasts and artfully fanned his passion. + +At last--it was the evening of the day before Madame was to come--I met +her where she could not avoid me, by the Constable's Tower, and alone. I +took my courage in my hands and faced her, warning her of her peril in +what delicate words I could find. Alas, I made nothing of it. A scornful +jest at me and my righteousness (of which, said she, all London had been +talking a little while back) was the first shot from her battery. The +mention of the Duke's name brought a blush and a mischievous smile, as +she answered: + +"Shouldn't I make a fine Duchess, Mr Dale?" + +"Ay, if he made you one," said I with gloomy bluntness. + +"You insult me, sir," she cried, and the flush on her face deepened. + +"Then I do in few words what his Grace does in many," I retorted. + +I went about it like a dolt, I do not doubt. For she flew out at me, +demanding in what esteem I held her, and in what her birth fell short of +Anne Hyde's--"who is now Duchess of York, and in whose service I have +the honour to be." + +"Is that your pattern?" I asked. "Will the King interpose for you as he +did for the daughter of Lord Clarendon?" + +She tossed her head, answering: + +"Perhaps so much interference will not be needed." + +"And does my Lord Carford share these plans of yours?" I asked with a +sneer. + +The question touched her; she flushed again, but gave way not an inch. + +"Lord Carford has done me much honour, as you know," said she, "but he +wouldn't stand in my way here." + +"Indeed he doesn't!" I cried. "Nor in his Grace's!" + +"Have you done, sir?" says she most scornfully. + +"I have done, madame," said I, and on she swept. + +"Yet you shall come to no harm," I added to myself as I watched her +proud free steps carry her away. She also, it seemed, had her dream; I +hoped that no more than hurt pride and a heart for the moment sore would +come of it. Yet if the flatteries of princes pleased, she was to be +better pleased soon, and the Duke of Monmouth seem scarcely higher to +her than Simon Dale. + +Then came Madame in the morning from Dunkirk, escorted by the +Vice-Admiral, and met above a mile from the coast by the King in his +barge; the Duke of York, Prince Rupert, and my Duke (on whom, I +attended) accompanying His Majesty. Madame seemed scarcely as beautiful +as I had heard, although of a very high air and most admirable carriage +and address; and my eyes, prone, I must confess, to seek the fairest +face, wandered from hers to a lady who stood near, gifted with a +delicate and alluring, yet childish, beauty, who gazed on the gay scene +with innocent interest and a fresh enjoyment. Madame, having embraced +her kinsmen, presented the lady to His Majesty by the name of +Mademoiselle Louise Renée de Perrencourt de Quérouaille (the name was +much shortened by our common folk in later days), and the King kissed +her hand, saying that he was rejoiced to see her--as indeed he seemed to +be, if a man might judge by the time he spent in looking at her, and +the carelessness with which he greeted the others in attendance on +Madame. + +"And these are all who come with you, sister?" he asked. + +She answered him clearly, almost loudly: + +"Except a gentleman who is to join me from Calais to-morrow, with +messages from the King." + +I heard no more, being forced to move away and leave the royal group +alone. I had closely examined all who came. For in the presence of +Madame I read _Je viens_, in our King's, _Tu viens_; but I saw none +whose coming would make the tidings _Il vient_ worthy of a special +messenger to London. But there was a gentleman to arrive from Calais. I +had enough curiosity to ask M. le Comte d'Albon, who (with his wife) +accompanied Madame and stood by me on deck as we returned to land, who +this gentleman might be. + +"He is called M. de Perrencourt," the Count replied, "and is related +remotely to the lady whom you saw with Madame." + +I was disappointed, or rather checked. Was M. de Perrencourt so +important that they wrote _Il vient_ about him and sent the tidings to +London? + +After some time, when we were already coming near to shore, I observed +Madame leave the King and go walking to and fro on the deck in company +with Monmouth. He was very merry and she was very gracious; I amused +myself with watching so handsome and well-matched a pair. I did not +wonder that my Duke was in a mighty good temper, for, even had she been +no Princess, her company was such as would please a man's pride and +content his fancy. So I leant against the mast, thinking it a pity that +they troubled their pretty heads with Dutch wars and the like tiresome +matters, and were not content to ornament the world, leaving its rule to +others. But presently I saw the Duke point towards me, and Madame's +glance follow his finger; he talked to her again and both laughed. Then, +just as we came by the landing-stage, she laid her hand on his arm, as +though in command. He laughed again, shrugging his shoulders, then +raised his hand and beckoned to me. Now I, while watching, had been most +diligent in seeming not to watch, and it needed a second and +unmistakable signal from his Grace before I hastened up, hat in hand. +Madame was laughing, and, as I came, I heard her say, "Yes, but I will +speak to him." The Duke, with another shrug, bade me come near, and in +due form presented me. She gave me her hand to kiss, saying with a smile +that showed her white teeth, + +"Sir, I asked to be shown the most honest man in Dover, and my cousin +Monmouth has brought you to me." + +I perceived that Monmouth, seeking how to entertain her, had not +scrupled to press me into his service. This I could not resent, and +since I saw that she was not too dull to be answered in the spirit of +her address, I made her a low bow and said: + +"His Grace, Madame, conceived you to mean in Dover Castle. The townsmen, +I believe, are very honest." + +"And you, though the most honest in the Castle, are not very honest?" + +"I take what I find, Madame," I answered. + +"So M. Colbert tells me," she said with a swift glance at me. "Yet it's +not always worth taking." + +"I keep it, in case it should become so," I answered, for I guessed that +Colbert had told her of my encounter with M. de Fontelles; if that were +so, she might have a curiosity to see me without the added inducement of +Monmouth's malicious stories. + +"Not if it be a secret? No man keeps that," she cried. + +"He may, if he be not in love, Madame." + +"But are you that monster, Mr Dale?" said she. "Shame on the ladies of +my native land! Yet I'm glad! For, if you're not in love, you'll be more +ready to serve me, perhaps." + +"Mr Dale, Madame, is not incapable of falling in love," said Monmouth +with a bow. "Don't try his virtue too much." + +"He shall fall in love then with Louise," she cried. + +Monmouth made a grimace, and the Duchess suddenly fell to laughing, as +she glanced over her shoulder towards the King, who was busily engaged +in conversation with Mlle. de Quérouaille. + +"Indeed, no!" I exclaimed with a fervour that I had not intended. No +more of that part of Betty Nasroth's prophecy for me, and the King's +attentions were already particular. "But if I can serve your Royal +Highness, I am body and soul at your service." + +"Body and soul?" said she. "Ah, you mean saving--what is it? Haven't you +reservations?" + +"His Grace has spared me nothing," said I, with a reproachful glance at +Monmouth. + +"The more told of you the better you're liked, Simon," said he kindly. +"See, Madame, we're at the landing, and there's a crowd of loyal folk to +greet you." + +"I know the loyalty of the English well," said she in a low voice and +with a curling lip. "They have their reservations like Mr Dale. Ah, +you're speaking, Mr Dale?" + +"To myself, Madame," I answered, bowing profoundly. She laughed, shaking +her head at me, and passed on. I was glad she did not press me, for what +I had said was, "Thank God," and I might likely enough have told a lie +if she had put me to the question. + +That night the King entertained his sister at a great banquet in the +hall of the Castle, where there was much drinking of toasts, and much +talk of the love that the King of France had for the King of England, +and our King for the other King, and we for the French (whereas we hated +them) and they for us (although they wasted no kindness on us); but at +least every man got as much wine as he wanted, and many of them more +than they had fair occasion for; and among these last I must count the +Duke of Monmouth. For after the rest had risen from table he sat there +still, calling Carford to join him, and even bidding me sit down by his +side. Carford seemed in no haste to get him away, although very anxious +to relieve me of my post behind his chair, but at last, by dint of +upbraiding them both, I prevailed on Carford to offer his arm and the +Duke to accept it, while I supported him on the other side. Thus we set +out for his Grace's quarters, making a spectacle sad enough to a +moralist, but too ordinary at Court for any remark to be excited by it. +Carford insisted that he could take the Duke alone; I would not budge. +My lord grew offensive, hinting of busybodies who came between the Duke +and his friends. Pushed hard, I asked the Duke himself if I should leave +him. He bade me stay, swearing that I was an honest fellow and no +Papist, as were some he knew. I saw Carford start; his Grace saw nothing +save the entrance of his chamber, and that not over-plainly. But we got +him in, and into a seat, and the door shut. Then he called for more +wine, and Carford at once brought it to him and pledged him once and +again, Monmouth drinking deep. + +"He's had more than he can carry already," I whispered. Carford turned +straight to the Duke, crying, "Mr Dale here says that your Grace is +drunk." He made nothing by the move, for the Duke answered +good-humouredly, + +"Truly I am drunk, but in the legs only, my good Simon. My head is +clear, clear as daylight, or the----" He looked round cunningly, and +caught each of us by the arm. "We're good Protestants here?" he asked +with a would-be shrewd, wine-muddled glance. + +"Sound and true, your Grace," said Carford. Then he whispered to me, +"Indeed I think he's ill. Pray run for the King's physician, Mr Dale." + +"Nay, he'd do well enough if he were alone with me. If you desire the +physician's presence, my lord, he's easy to find." + +I cared not a jot for Carford's anger, and was determined not to give +ground. But we had no more time for quarrelling. + +"I am as loyal--as loyal to my father as any man in the kingdom," said +the Duke in maudlin confidence. "But you know what's afoot?" + +"A new war with the Dutch, I'm told, sir," said I. + +"A fig for the Dutch! Hush, we must speak low, there may be Papists +about. There are some in the Castle, Carford. Hush, hush! Some say my +uncle's one, some say the Secretary's one. Gentlemen, I--I say no more. +Traitors have said that my father is----" + +Carford interrupted him. + +"Don't trouble your mind with these slanders, sir," he urged. + +"I won't believe it. I'll stand by my father. But if the Duke of +York--But I'll say no more." His head fell on his breast. But in a +moment he sprang to his feet, crying, "But I'm a Protestant. Yes, and +I'm the King's son." He caught Carford by the arm, whispering, "Not a +word of it. I'm ready. We know what's afoot. We're loyal to the King; we +must save him. But if we can't--if we can't, isn't there one +who--who----?" + +He lost his tongue for an instant. We stood looking at him, till he +spoke again. "One who would be a Protestant King?" + +He spoke the last words loud and fiercely; it was the final effort, and +he sank back in his chair in a stupor. Carford gave a hasty glance at +his face. + +"I'll go for the physician," he cried. "His Grace may need +blood-letting." + +I stepped between him and the door as he advanced. + +"His Grace needs nothing," said I, "except the discretion of his +friends. We've heard foolish words that we should not have heard +to-night, my lord." + +"I am sure they're safe with you," he answered. + +"And with you?" I retorted quickly. + +He drew himself up haughtily. + +"Stand aside, sir, and let me pass." + +"Where are you going?" + +"To fetch the physician. I'll answer none of your questions." + +I could not stop him without an open brawl, and that I would not +encounter, for it could lead only to my own expulsion. Yet I was sure +that he would go straight to Arlington, and that every word the Duke had +spoken would be carried to York, and perhaps to the King, before next +morning. The King would be informed, if it were thought possible to +prejudice him against his son; York, at least, would be warned of the +mad scheme which was in the young Duke's head. I drew aside and with a +surly bow let Carford pass. He returned my salutation with an equal +economy of politeness, and left me alone with Monmouth, who had now sunk +into a heavy and uneasy sleep. I roused him and got him to bed, glad to +think that his unwary tongue would be silent for a few hours at least. +Yet what he had said brought me nearer to the secret and the mystery. +There was indeed more afoot than the war with the Dutch. There was, if I +mistook not, a matter that touched the religion of the King. Monmouth, +whose wits were sharp enough, had gained scent of it; the wits went out +as the wine went in, and he blurted out what he suspected, robbing his +knowledge of all value by betraying its possession. Our best knowledge +lies in what we are not known to know. + +I repaired, thoughtful and disturbed, to my own small chamber, next the +Duke's; but the night was fine and I had no mind for sleep. I turned +back again and made my way on to the wall, where it faces towards the +sea. The wind was blowing fresh and the sound of the waves filled my +ears. No doubt the same sound hid the noise of my feet, for when I came +to the wall, I passed unheeded by three persons who stood in a group +together. I knew all and made haste to pass by; the man was the King +himself, the lady on his right was Mistress Barbara; in the third I +recognised Madame's lady, Louise de Quérouaille. I proceeded some +distance farther till I was at the end of the wall nearest the sea. +There I took my stand, looking not at the sea but covertly at the little +group. Presently two of them moved away; the third curtseyed low but did +not accompany them. When they were gone, she turned and leant on the +parapet of the wall with clasped hands. Drawn by some impulse, I moved +towards her. She was unconscious of my approach until I came quite near +to her; then she turned on me a face stained with tears and pale with +agitation and alarm. I stood before her, speechless, and she found no +words in which to address me. I was too proud to force my company on +her, and made as though to pass with a bow; but her face arrested me. + +"What ails you, Mistress Barbara?" I cried impetuously. She smoothed her +face to composure as she answered me: + +"Nothing, sir." Then she added carelessly, "Unless it be that sometimes +the King's conversation is too free for my liking." + +"When you want me, I'm here," I said, answering not her words but the +frightened look that there was in her eyes. + +For an instant I seemed to see in her an impulse to trust me and to lay +bare what troubled her. The feeling passed; her face regained its +natural hue, and she said petulantly, + +"Why, yes, it seems fated that you should always be there, Simon, yet +Betty Nasroth said nothing of it." + +"It may be well for you that I'm here," I answered hotly; for her scorn +stirred me to say what I should have left unsaid. + +I do not know how she would have answered, for at the moment we heard a +shout from the watchman who stood looking over the sea. He hailed a boat +that came prancing over the waves; a light answered his signal. Who came +to the Castle? Barbara's eyes and mine sought the ship; we did not know +the stranger, but he was expected; for a minute later Darrell ran +quickly by us with an eager look on his face; with him was the Count +d'Albon, who had come with Madame, and Depuy, the Duke of York's +servant. They went by at the top of their speed and in visible +excitement. Barbara forgot her anger and haughtiness in fresh girlish +interest. + +"Who can it be?" she cried, coming so near to me that her sleeve touched +mine, and leaning over the wall towards where the ship's black hull was +to be seen far below in the moonlight by the jetty. + +"Doubtless it's the gentleman whom Madame expects," said I. + +Many minutes passed, but through them Barbara and I stood silent side by +side. Then the party came back through the gate, which had been opened +for them. Depuy walked first, carrying a small trunk; two or three +servants followed with more luggage; then came Darrell in company with a +short man who walked with a bold and confident air. The rest passed us, +and the last pair approached. Now Darrell saw Mistress Barbara and +doffed his hat to her. The new-comer did the like and more; he halted +immediately opposite to us and looked curiously at her, sparing a +curious glance for me. I bowed; she waited unmoved until the gentleman +said to Darrell, + +"Pray present me." + +"This, madame," said Darrell, in whose voice there was a ring of +excitement and tremulous agitation, "is M. de Perrencourt, who has the +honour of serving Her Royal Highness the Duchess. This lady, sir, is +Mistress Barbara Quinton, maid of honour to the Duchess of York, and now +in attendance on Madame." + +Barbara made a curtsey, M. de Perrencourt bowed. His eyes were fixed on +her face; he studied her openly and fearlessly, yet the regard was +difficult to resent, it was so calm, assured, and dignified. It seemed +beyond challenge, if not beyond reproach. I stood by in silence, angry +at a scrutiny so prolonged, but without title to interfere. + +"I trust, madame, that we shall be better acquainted," he said at last, +and with a lingering look at her face passed on. I turned to her; she +was gazing after him with eager eyes. My presence seemed forgotten; I +would not remind her of it; I turned away in silence, and hastened after +Darrell and his companion. The curve of the wall hid them from my sight, +but I quickened my pace; I gained on them, for now I heard their steps +ahead; I ran round the next corner, for I was ablaze with curiosity to +see more of this man, who came at so strange an hour and yet was +expected, who bore himself so loftily, and yet was but a +gentleman-in-waiting as I was. Round the next corner I should come in +sight of him. Round I went, and I came plump into the arms of my good +friend Darrell, who stood there, squarely across the path! + +"Whither away, Simon?" said he coldly. + +I halted, stood still, looked him in the face. He met my gaze with a +calm, self-controlled smile. + +"Why," said I, "I'm on my way to bed, Darrell. Let me pass, I beg you." + +"A moment later will serve," said he. + +"Not a moment," I replied testily, and caught him by the arm. He was +stiff as a rock, but I put out my strength and in another instant should +have thrown him aside. But he cried in a loud angry voice, + +"By the King's orders, no man is to pass this way." + +Amazed, I fell back. But over his head, some twenty yards from us, I saw +two men embracing one another warmly. Nobody else was near; Darrell's +eyes were fixed on me, and his hand detained me in an eager grasp. But I +looked hard at the pair there ahead of me; there was a cloud over the +moon now, in a second it passed. The next moment the two had turned +their backs and were walking off together. Darrell, seeing my fixed +gaze, turned also. His face was pale, as if with excitement, but he +spoke in cool, level tones. + +"It's only M. Colbert greeting M. de Perrencourt," said he. + +"Ah, of course!" I cried, turning to him with a smile. "But where did M. +Colbert get that Star?" For the glitter of the decoration had caught my +eye, as it sparkled in the moonlight. + +There was a pause before Darrell answered. Then he said, + +"The King gave him his own Star to-night, in compliment to Madame." + +And in truth M. Colbert wore that Star when he walked abroad next +morning, and professed much gratitude for it to the King. I have +wondered since whether he should not have thanked a humbler man. Had I +not seen the Star on the breast of the gentleman who embraced M. de +Perrencourt, should I have seen it on the breast of M. Colbert de +Croissy? In truth I doubt it. + + + + +CHAPTER XII + +THE DEFERENCE OF HIS GRACE THE DUKE + + +Certainly he had some strange ways, this M. de Perrencourt. It was not +enough for him to arrive by night, nor to have his meeting with M. +Colbert (whose Star Darrell made me observe most particularly next +morning) guarded from intruding eyes by the King's own order. He shewed +a predilection for darkness and was visible in the daytime only in +Madame's apartment, or when she went to visit the King. The other French +gentlemen and ladies manifested much curiosity concerning the town and +the neighbourhood, and with Madame and the Duke of Monmouth at their +head took part in many pleasant excursions. In a day or two the Queen +also and the Duchess of York came from London, and the doings grew more +gay and merry. But M. de Perrencourt was not to be tempted; no pastimes, +no jaunts allured him; he did not put his foot outside the walls of the +Castle, and was little seen inside it. I myself did not set eyes on him +for two days after my first sight of him; but after that I beheld him +fairly often, and the more I saw him the more I wondered. Of a truth +his retiring behaviour was dictated by no want of assurance nor by undue +modesty; he was not abashed in the presence of the great and bore +himself as composedly before the King as in the presence of a lackey. It +was plain, too, that he enjoyed Madame's confidence in no common degree, +for when affairs of State were discussed and all withdrew saving Madame, +her brothers and the Secretary (even the Duke of Monmouth not being +admitted), the last we saw as we made our bows and backed out of the +doorway would be M. de Perrencourt standing in an easy and unconstrained +attitude behind Madame's chair and manifesting no overpowering sense of +the signal honour paid to him by the permission to remain. As may be +supposed, a theory sprang up to account for the curious regard this +gentleman commanded; it was put about (some said that Lord Arlington +himself gave his authority for the report) that M. de Perrencourt was +legal guardian to his cousin Mlle. de Quérouaille, and that the King had +discovered special reasons for conciliating the gentleman by every +means, and took as much pains to please him as to gain favour with the +lady herself. Here was a good reason for M. de Perrencourt's +distinguished treatment, and no less for the composure and calm with +which M. de Perrencourt accepted it. To my mind, however, the manner of +M. de Perrencourt's arrival and the incident of M. Colbert's Star found +scarcely a sufficient explanation in this ingenious conjecture; yet the +story, thus circulated, was generally accepted and served its office of +satisfying curiosity and blunting question well enough. + +Again (for my curiosity would not be satisfied, nor the edge of my +questioning be turned)--what had the Duke of Monmouth to gain from M. de +Perrencourt? Something it seemed, or his conduct was most mysterious. He +cared nothing for Mlle. de Quérouaille, and I could not suppose that the +mere desire to please his father would have weighed with him so strongly +as to make him to all appearance the humble servant of this French +gentleman. The thing was brought home most forcibly to my mind on the +third evening after M. de Perrencourt's arrival. A private conference +was held and lasted some hours; outside the closed doors we all paced to +and fro, hearing nothing save now and then Madame's clear voice, raised, +as it seemed, in exhortation or persuasion. The Duke, who was glad +enough to escape the tedium of State affairs but at the same time +visibly annoyed at his exclusion, sauntered listlessly up and down, +speaking to nobody. Perceiving that he did not desire my company, I +withdrew to a distance, and, having seated myself in a retired corner, +was soon lost in consideration of my own fortunes past and to come. The +hour grew late; the gentlemen and ladies of the Court, having offered +and accepted compliments and gallantries till invention and complaisance +alike were exhausted, dropped off one by one, in search of supper, +wine, or rest. I sat on in my corner. Nothing was to be heard save the +occasional voices of the two musketeers on guard on the steps leading +from the second storey of the keep to the State apartments. I knew that +I must move soon, for at night the gate on the stairs was shut. It was +another of the peculiar facts about M. de Perrencourt that he alone of +the gentlemen-in-waiting had been lodged within the precincts of the +royal quarters, occupying an apartment next to the Duke of York, who had +his sister Madame for his neighbour on the other side. The prolonged +conference was taking place in the King's cabinet farther along the +passage. + +Suddenly I heard steps on the stairs, the word of the night was asked, +and Monmouth's voice made answer "Saint Denis"; for just now everything +was French in compliment to Madame. The steps continued to ascend; the +light in the corridor was very dim, but a moment later I perceived +Monmouth and Carford. Carford's arm was through his Grace's, and he +seemed to be endeavouring to restrain him. Monmouth shook him off with a +laugh and an oath. + +"I'm not going to listen," he cried. "Why should I listen? Do I want to +hear the King praying to the Virgin?" + +"Silence, for God's sake, silence, your Grace," implored Carford. + +"That's what he does, isn't it? He, and the Queen's Chaplain, and +the----" + +"Pray, sir!" + +"And our good M. de Perrencourt, then?" He burst into a bitter laugh as +he mentioned the gentleman's name. + +I had heard more than was meant for my ears, and what was enough (if I +may use a distinction drawn by my old friend the Vicar) for my +understanding. I was in doubt whether to declare my presence or not. Had +Monmouth been alone, I would have shown myself directly, but I did not +wish Carford to be aware that I had overheard so much. I sat still a +moment longer in hesitation; then I uttered a loud yawn, groaned, +stretched myself, rose to my feet, and gave a sudden and very obvious +start, as I let my eyes fall on the Duke. + +"Why, Simon," he cried, "what brings you here?" + +"I thought your Grace was in the King's cabinet," I answered. + +"But you knew that I left them some hours since." + +"Yes, but having lost sight of your Grace, I supposed that you'd +returned, and while waiting for you I fell asleep." + +My explanation abundantly satisfied the Duke; Carford maintained a wary +silence. + +"We're after other game than conferences to-night," said Monmouth, +laughing again. "Go down to the hall and wait there for me, Simon. My +lord and I are going to pay a visit to the ladies of Madame and the +Duchess of York." + +I saw that he was merry with wine; Carford had been drinking too, but he +grew only more glum and malicious with his liquor. Neither their state +nor the hour seemed fitted for the visit the Duke spoke of, but I was +helpless, and with a bow took my way down the stairs to the hall below, +where I sat down on the steps that led up to one of the loop-holes. A +great chair, standing by the wall, served to hide me from observation. +For a few moments nothing occurred. Then I heard a loud burst of +laughter from above. Feet came running down the steps into the hall, and +a girl in a white dress darted across the floor. I heard her laugh, and +knew that she was Barbara Quinton. An instant later came Monmouth hot on +her heels, and imploring her in extravagant words not to be so cruel and +heartless as to fly from him. But where was Carford? I could only +suppose that my lord had the discretion to stay behind when the Duke of +Monmouth desired to speak with the lady whom my lord sought for his +wife. + +In my humble judgment, a very fine, large, and subtle volume might be +composed on the canons of eavesdropping--when a man may listen, when he +may not, and for how long he may, to what end, for what motives, in what +causes, and on what provocations. It may be that the Roman Divines, who, +as I understand, are greatly adept in the science of casuistry, have +accomplished already the task I indicate. I know not; at least I have +nowhere encountered the result of their labours. But now I sat still +behind the great chair and listened without doubt or hesitation. Yet how +long I could have controlled myself I know not, for his Grace made light +of scruples that night and set bounds at nought. At first Mistress +Barbara was merry with him, fencing and parrying, in confidence that he +would use no roughness nor an undue vehemence. But on he went; and +presently a note of alarm sounded in her voice as she prayed him to +suffer her to depart and return to the Duchess, who must have need of +her. + +"Nay, I won't let you go, sweet mistress. Rather, I can't let you go." + +"Indeed, sir, I must go," she said. "Come, I will call my Lord Carford, +to aid me in persuading your Grace." + +He laughed at the suggestion that a call for Carford would hinder him. + +"He won't come," he said; "and if he came, he would be my ally, not +yours." + +She answered now haughtily and coldly: + +"Sir, Lord Carford is a suitor for my hand. It is in your Grace's +knowledge that he is." + +"But he thinks a hand none the worse because I've kissed it," retorted +Monmouth. "You don't know how amiable a husband you're to have, Mistress +Barbara." + +I was on my feet now, and, peering round the chair which hid me from +them, I could see her standing against the wall, with Monmouth opposite +to her. He offered to seize her hand, but she drew it away sharply. +With a laugh he stepped nearer to her. A slight sound caught my ear, +and, turning my head, I saw Carford on the lowest step of the stairs; he +was looking at the pair, and a moment later stepped backwards, till he +was almost hidden from my sight, though I could still make out the shape +of his figure. A cry of triumph from Monmouth echoed low but intense +through the hall; he had caught the elusive hand and was kissing it +passionately. Barbara stood still and stiff. The Duke, keeping her hand +still in his, said mockingly: + +"You pretty fool, would you refuse fortune? Hark, madame, I am a King's +son." + +I saw no movement in her, but the light was dim. He went on, lowering +his voice a little, yet not much. + +"And I may be a King; stranger things have come to pass. Wouldn't you +like to be a Queen?" He laughed as he put the question; he lacked the +care or the cunning to make even a show of honesty. + +"Let me go," I heard her whisper in a strained, timid voice. + +"Well, for to-night you shall go, sweetheart, but not without a kiss, I +swear." + +She was frightened now and sought to propitiate him, saying gently and +with attempted lightness, + +"Your Grace has my hand prisoner. You can work your will on it." + +"Your hand! I mean your lips this time," he cried in audacious +insolence. He came nearer to her, his arm crept round her waist. I had +endured what I could, yes, and as long as I could; for I was persuaded +that I could serve her better by leaving her unaided for the moment. But +my limit was reached; I stepped out from behind the chair. But in an +instant I was back again. Monmouth had paused; in one hand he held +Barbara's hand, the other rested on her girdle, but he turned his head +and looked at the stairs. Voices had come from there; he had heard them +as I had, as Barbara had. + +"You can't pass out," had come in a blustering tone from Carford. + +"Stand aside, sir," was the answer in a calm, imperative voice. + +Carford hesitated for a single instant, then he seemed to shrink away, +making himself small and leaving free passage for a man who came down +the steps and walked confidently and briskly across the hall towards +where the Duke stood with Barbara. + +Above us, at the top of the stairs, there were the sound of voices and +the tread of feet. The conference was broken up and the parties to it +were talking in the passage on their way to regain their own apartments. +I paid no heed to them; my eyes were fixed on the intruder who came so +boldly and unabashed up to the Duke. I knew him now; he was M. de +Perrencourt, Madame's gentleman. + +Without wavering or pausing, straight he walked. Monmouth seemed turned +to stone; I could see his face set and rigid, although light failed me +to catch that look in the eyes by which you may best know a man's mood. +Not a sound or a motion came from Carford. Barbara herself was stiff and +still, her regard bent on M. de Perrencourt. He stood now directly over +against her and Monmouth; it seemed long before he spoke. Indeed, I had +looked for Monmouth's voice first, for an oath of vexation at the +interruption, for a curse on the intruder and a haughty order to him to +be gone and not interfere with what concerned his betters. No such word, +nor any words, issued from the mouth of the Duke. And still M. de +Perrencourt was silent. Carford stole covertly from the steps nearer to +the group until, gliding across the hall, he was almost at the +Frenchman's elbow. Still M. de Perrencourt was silent. + +Slowly and reluctantly, as though in deference to an order that he +loathed but dared not disobey, Monmouth drew his arm away; he loosed +Barbara's hand, she drew back, leaning against the wall; the Duke stood +with his arms by his side, looking at the man who interrupted his sport +and seemed to have power to control his will. Then, at last, in crisp, +curt, ungracious tones, M. de Perrencourt spoke. + +"I thank you, Monsieur le Duc," said he. "I was sure that you would +perceive your error soon. This is not the lady you supposed, this is +Mistress Quinton. I desire to speak with her, pray give me leave." + +The King would not have spoken in this style to his pampered son, and +the Duke of York himself dared not have done it. But no touch of +uneasiness or self-distrust appeared in M. de Perrencourt's smooth +cutting speech. Truly he was high in Madame's confidence, and, likely +enough, a great man in his own country; but, on my life, I looked to see +the hot-tempered Duke strike him across the face. Even I, who had been +about to interfere myself, by some odd momentary turn of feeling +resented the insolence with which Monmouth was assailed. Would he not +resent it much more for himself? No. For an instant I heard his quick +breathing, the breathing of a man who fights anger, holding it under +with great labour and struggling. Then he spoke; in his voice also there +was passion hard held. + +"Here, sir, and everywhere," he said, "you have only to command to be +obeyed." Slowly he bent his head low, the gesture matching the humility +of his words, while it emphasised their unwillingness. + +The strange submission won no praise. M. de Perrencourt did not accord +the speech so much courtesy as lay in an answer. His silent slight bow +was all his acknowledgment; he stood there waiting for his command to be +obeyed. + +Monmouth turned once towards Barbara, but his eyes came back to M. de +Perrencourt. Carford advanced to him and offered his arm. The Duke laid +his hand on his friend's shoulder. For a moment they stood still thus, +then both bowed low to M. de Perrencourt, who answered with another of +his slight inclinations of the head. They turned and walked out of the +hall, the Duke seeming almost to stagger and to lean on Carford, as +though to steady his steps. As they went they passed within two yards of +me, and I saw Monmouth's face pale with rage. With a long indrawing of +my breath I drew back into the shadow of my shelter. They passed, the +hall was empty save for myself and the two who stood there by the wall. + +I had no thought now of justifying my part of eavesdropper. Scruples +were drowned in excitement; keen interest bound me to my place with +chains of iron. My brain was full of previous suspicion thrice +magnified; all that was mysterious in this man came back to me; the +message I had surprised at Canterbury ran echoing through my head again +and again. Yet I bent myself to the task of listening, resolute to catch +every word. Alas, my efforts were in vain! M. de Perrencourt was of +different clay from his Grace the Duke. He was indeed speaking now, but +so low and warily that no more than a gentle murmur reached my ears. Nor +did his gestures aid; they were as far from Monmouth's jovial violence +as his tones from the Duke's reckless exclaiming. He was urgent but +courteous, most insistent yet most deferential. Monmouth claimed and +challenged, M. de Perrencourt seemed to beseech and woo. Yet he asked +as though none could refuse, and his prayer presumed a favourable +answer. Barbara listened in quiet; I could not tell whether fear alone +bound her, or whether the soft courtly voice bred fascination also. I +was half-mad that I could not hear, and had much ado not to rush out, +unprovoked, and defy the man before whom my master had bowed almost to +the ground, beaten and dismayed. + +At last she spoke a few hurried imploring words. + +"No, no," she panted. "No; pray leave me. No." + +M. de Perrencourt answered gently and beseechingly, + +"Nay, say 'Not yet,' madame." + +They were silent again, he seeming to regard her intently. Suddenly she +covered her face with her hands; yet, dropping her hands almost +immediately, she set her eyes on his; I saw him shake his head. + +"For to-night, then, good-night, fairest lady," said he. He took her +hand and kissed it lightly, bowing very low and respectfully, she +looking down at him as he stooped. Then he drew away from her, bowing +again and repeating again, + +"For to-night, good-night." + +With this he turned towards the stairs, crossing the hall with the same +brisk, confident tread that had marked his entry. He left her, but it +looked as though she were indulged, not he defeated. At the lowest step +he paused, turned, bowed low again. This time she answered with a deep +and sweeping curtsey. Then he was gone, and she was leaning by the wall +again, her face buried in her hands. I heard her sob, and her broken +words reached me: + +"What shall I do? Oh, what shall I do?" + +At once I stepped out from the hiding-place that had shown me such +strange things, and, crossing to her, hat in hand, answered her sad +desolate question. + +"Why, trust in your friends, Mistress Barbara," said I cheerily. "What +else can any lady do?" + +"Simon!" she cried eagerly, and as I thought gladly; for her hand flew +out to mine. "You, here?" + +"And at your service always," said I. + +"But have you been here? Where did you come from?" + +"Why, from across the hall, behind the chair there," I answered. "I've +been there a long while back. His Grace told me to wait in the hall, and +in the hall I waited, though the Duke, having other things to think of, +forgot both his order and his servant." + +"Then you heard?" she asked in a whisper. + +"All, I think, that the Duke said. Lord Carford said nothing. I was +about to interrupt his Grace when the task was better performed for me. +I think, madame, you owe some thanks to M. de Perrencourt." + +"You heard what he said?" + +"The last few words only," I answered regretfully. + +She looked at me for an instant, and then said with a dreary little +smile, + +"I'm to be grateful to M. de Perrencourt?" + +"I know no other man who could or would have rid you of the Duke so +finely. Besides, he appeared to treat you with much courtesy." + +"Courtesy, yes!" she cried, but seemed to check herself. She was still +in great agitation, and a moment later she covered her face and I heard +her sob again. + +"Come, take heart," said I. "The Duke's a great man, of course; but no +harm shall come to you, Mistress Barbara. Your father bade me have my +services in readiness for you, and although I didn't need his order as a +spur, I may pray leave to use it as an excuse for thrusting myself on +you." + +"Indeed I--I'm glad to see you, Simon. But what shall I do? Ah, Heaven, +why did I ever come to this place?" + +"That can be mended by leaving it, madame." + +"But how? How can I leave it?" she asked despairingly. + +"The Duchess will grant you leave." + +"Without the King's consent?" + +"But won't the King consent? Madame will ask for you; she's kind." + +"Madame won't ask for me; nobody will ask for me." + +"Then if leave be impossible, we must go without leave, if you speak the +word." + +"Ah, you don't know," she said sadly. Then she caught my hand again and +whispered hurriedly and fearfully: "I'm afraid, Simon. I--I fear him. +What can I do? How can I resist? They can do what they will with me, +what can I do? If I weep, they laugh; if I try to laugh, they take it +for consent. What can I do?" + +There is nothing that so binds a man to a woman as to feel her hand +seeking his in weakness and appeal. I had thought that one day so +Barbara's might seek mine and I should exult in it, nay, might even let +her perceive my triumph. The thing I had dreamed of was come, but where +was my exultation? There was a choking in my throat and I swallowed +twice before I contrived to answer: + +"What can we do, you mean, Mistress Barbara." + +"Alas, alas," she cried, between tears and laughter, "what can we--even +we--do, Simon?" + +I noticed that she called me Simon, as in the old days before my +apostacy and great offence. I was glad of it, for if I was to be of +service to her we must be friends. Suddenly she said, + +"You know what it means--I can't tell you; you know?" + +"Aye, I know," said I, "none better. But the Duke shan't have his way." + +"The Duke? If it were only the Duke--Ah!" She stopped, a new alarm in +her eyes. She searched my face eagerly. Of deliberate purpose I set it +to an immutable stolidity. + +"Already he's very docile," said I. "See how M. de Perrencourt turned +and twisted him, and sent him off crestfallen." + +She laid her hand on my arm. + +"If I might tell you," she said, "a thing that few know here; none but +the King and his near kindred and one or two more." + +"But how came you to know of it?" I interrupted. + +"I--I also came to know it," she murmured. + +"There are many ways of coming to know a thing," said I. "One is by +being told; another, madame, is by finding out. Certainly it was amazing +how M. de Perrencourt dealt with his Grace; ay, and with my Lord +Carford, who shrank out of his path as though he had been--a King." I +let my tones give the last word full effect. + +"Simon," she whispered in eagerness mingled with alarm, "Simon, what are +you saying? Silence for your life!" + +"My life, madame, is rooted too deep for a syllable to tear it up. I +said only 'as though he had been a king.' Tell me why M. Colbert wears +the King's Star. Was it because somebody saw a gentleman wearing the +King's Star embrace and kiss M. de Perrencourt the night that he +arrived?" + +"It was you?" + +"It was I, madame. Tell me on whose account three messengers went to +London, carrying the words '_Il vient_.'" + +She was hanging to my arm now, full of eagerness. + +"And tell me now what M. de Perrencourt said to you. A plague on him, he +spoke so low that I couldn't hear!" + +A blush swept over her face; her eyes, losing the fire of excitement, +dropped in confusion to the ground. + +"I can't tell you," she murmured. + +"Yet I know," said I. "And if you'll trust me, madame----" + +"Ah, Simon, you know I trust you." + +"Yet you were angry with me." + +"Not angry--I had no right--I mean I had no cause to be angry. I--I was +grieved." + +"You need be grieved no longer, madame." + +"Poor Simon!" said she very gently. I felt the lightest pressure on my +hand, the touch of two slim fingers, speaking of sympathy and +comradeship. + +"By God, I'll bring you safe out of it," I cried. + +"But how, how? Simon, I fear that he has----" + +"The Duke?" + +"No, the--the other--M. de Perrencourt; he has set his heart on--on what +he told me." + +"A man may set his heart on a thing and yet not win it," said I grimly. + +"Yes, a man--yes, Simon, I know; a man may----" + +"Ay, and even a----" + +"Hush, hush! If you were overheard--your life wouldn't be safe if you +were overheard." + +"What do I care?" + +"But I care!" she cried, and added very hastily, "I'm selfish. I care, +because I want your help." + +"You shall have it. Against the Duke of Monmouth, and against the----" + +"Ah, be careful!" + +I would not be careful. My blood was up. My voice was loud and bold as I +gave to M. de Perrencourt the name that was his, the name by which the +frightened lord and the cowed Duke knew him, the name that gave him +entrance to those inmost secret conferences, and yet kept him himself +hidden and half a prisoner in the Castle. The secret was no secret to me +now. + +"Against the Duke of Monmouth," said I sturdily, "and also, if need be, +against the King of France." + +Barbara caught at my arm in alarm. I laughed, till I saw her finger +point warily over my shoulder. With a start I turned and saw a man +coming down the steps. In the dim light the bright Star gleamed on his +breast. He was M. Colbert de Croissy. He stood on the lowest step, +peering at us through the gloom. + +"Who speaks of the King of France here?" he said suspiciously. + +"I, Simon Dale, gentleman-in-waiting to the Duke of Monmouth, at your +Excellency's service," I answered, advancing towards him and making my +bow. + +"What have you to say of my master?" he demanded. + +For a moment I was at a loss; for although my heart was full of things +that I should have taken much pleasure in saying concerning His Majesty, +they were none of them acceptable to the ears of His Majesty's Envoy. I +stood, looking at Colbert, and my eyes fell on the Star that he wore. I +knew that I committed an imprudence, but for the life of me I could not +withstand the temptation. I made another bow, and, smiling easily, +answered M. Colbert. + +"I was remarking, sir," said I, "that the compliment paid to you by the +King of England in bestowing on you the Star from His Majesty's own +breast, could not fail to cause much gratification to the King of +France." + +He looked me hard in the eyes, but his eyes fell to the ground before +mine. I warrant he took nothing by his searching glance, and did well to +give up the conflict. Without a word, and with a stiff little bow, he +passed on his way to the hall. The moment he was gone, Barbara was by +me. Her face was alight with merriment. + +"Oh, Simon, Simon!" she whispered reprovingly. "But I love you for it!" +And she was gone up the stairs like a flitting moonbeam. + +Upon this, having my head full and to spare of many matters, and my +heart beating quick with more than one emotion, I thought my bed the +best and safest place for me, and repaired to it without delay. + +"But I'll have some conversation with M. de Perrencourt to-morrow," said +I, as I turned on my pillow and sought to sleep. + + + + +CHAPTER XIII + +THE MEED OF CURIOSITY + + +The next morning my exaltation had gone. I woke a prey to despondency +and sickness of soul. Not only did difficulty loom large, and failure +seem inevitable, but a disgust for all that surrounded me seized on my +mind, displacing the zest of adventure and the excitement of enterprise. +But let me not set my virtue too high. It is better to be plain. Old +maxims of morality, and a standard of right acknowledged by all but +observed by none, have little power over a young man's hot blood; to be +stirred to indignation, he must see the wrong threaten one he respects, +touch one he loves, or menace his own honour and pride. I had supported +the scandals of this Court, of which I made a humble part, with shrugs, +smiles, and acid jests; I had felt no dislike for the chief actors, and +no horror at the things they did or attempted; nay, for one of them, who +might seem to sum up in her own person the worst of all that was to be +urged against King and Court, I had cherished a desperate love that bred +even in death an obstinate and longing memory. Now a change had come +over me; I seemed to see no longer through my own careless eyes, but +with the shamed and terrified vision of the girl who, cast into this +furnace, caught at my hand as offering her the sole chance to pass +unscathed through the fire. They were using her in their schemes, she +was to be sacrificed; first she had been chosen as the lure with which +to draw forth Monmouth's ambitions from their lair, and reveal them to +the spying eyes of York and his tool Carford; if that plan were changed +now, she would be no better for the change. The King would and could +refuse this M. de Perrencourt (I laughed bitterly as I muttered his +name) nothing, however great; without a thought he would fling the girl +to him, if the all-powerful finger were raised to ask for her. Charles +would think himself well paid by his brother king's complaisance towards +his own inclination. Doubtless there were great bargains of policy +a-making here in the Castle, and the nature of them I made shift to +guess. What was it to throw in a trifle on either side, barter Barbara +Quinton against the French lady, and content two Princes at a price so +low as the dishonour of two ladies? That was the game; otherwise, whence +came M. de Perrencourt's court and Monmouth's deference? The King saw +eye to eye with M. de Perrencourt, and the King's son did not venture to +thwart him. What matter that men spoke of other loves which the French +King had? The gallants of Paris might think us in England rude and +ignorant, but at least we had learnt that a large heart was a +prerogative of royalty which even the Parliament dared not question. +With a new loathing I loathed it all, for it seemed now to lay aside its +trappings of pomp and brilliancy, of jest and wit, and display itself +before me in ugly nakedness, all unashamed. In sudden frenzy I sat up in +my bed, crying, "Heaven will find a way!" For surely heaven could find +one, where the devil found so many! Ah, righteous wert thou, Simon Dale, +so soon as unrighteousness hurt thee! But Phineas Tate might have +preached until the end of time. + +Earlier than usual by an hour Jonah Wall came up from the town where he +was lodged, but he found me up and dressed, eager to act, ready for what +might chance. I had seen little of the fellow lately, calling on him for +necessary services only, and ridding myself of his sombre company as +quickly as I could. Yet I looked on him to-day with more consideration; +his was a repulsive form of righteousness, grim and gloomy, but it was +righteousness, or seemed such to me against the background of iniquity +which threw it up in strong relief. I spoke to him kindly, but taking no +heed of my advances he came straight up to me and said brusquely: "The +woman who came to your lodging in London is here in Dover. She bids you +be silent and come quickly. I can lead you." + +I started and stared at him. I had set "Finis" to that chapter; was +fate minded to overrule me and write more? Strange also that Jonah Wall +should play Mercury! + +"She here in Dover? For what?" I asked as calmly as I could. + +"I don't doubt, for sin," he answered uncompromisingly. + +"Yet you can lead me to her house?" said I with a smile. + +"I can," said he, in sour disregard of my hinted banter. + +"I won't go," I declared. + +"The matter concerns you, she said, and might concern another." + +It was early, the Court would not be moving for two hours yet. I could +go and come, and thereby lose no opportunity. Curiosity led me on, and +with it the attraction which still draws us to those we have loved, +though the love be gone and more pain than pleasure wait on our +visiting. In ten minutes I was following Jonah down the cliff, and +plunged thence into a narrow street that ran curling and curving towards +the sea. Jonah held on quickly, and without hesitation, until we reached +a confined alley, and came to a halt before a mean house. + +"She's here," said Jonah, pointing to the door and twisting his face as +though he was swallowing something nauseous. + +I could not doubt of her presence, for I heard her voice singing gaily +from within. My heart beat quick, and I had above half a mind not to +enter. But she had seen us, and herself flung the door open wide. She +lodged on the ground floor; and, in obedience to her beckoning finger, I +entered a small room. Lodging was hard to be had in Dover now, and the +apartment served her (as the bed, carelessly covered with a curtain, +showed) for sleeping and living. I did not notice what became of Jonah, +but sat down, puzzled and awkward, in a crazy chair. + +"What brings you here?" I blurted out, fixing my eyes on her, as she +stood opposite to me, smiling and swaying to and fro a little, with her +hands on her hips. + +"Even what brings you. My business," she answered. "If you ask more, the +King's invitation. Does that grieve you, Simon?" + +"No, madame," said I. + +"A little, still a little, Simon? Be consoled! The King invited me, but +he hasn't come to see me. There lies my business. Why hasn't he come to +see me? I hear certain things, but my eyes, though they are counted good +if not large, can't pierce the walls of the Castle yonder, and my poor +feet aren't fit to pass its threshold." + +"You needn't grieve for that," said I sullenly. + +"Yet some things I know. As that a French lady is there. Of what +appearance is she, Simon?" + +"She is very pretty, so far as I've looked at her." + +"Ah, and you've a discriminating glance, haven't you? Will she stay +long?" + +"They say Madame will be here for ten or fourteen days yet." + +"And the French lady goes when Madame goes?" + +"I don't know as to that." + +"Why, nor I neither." She paused an instant. "You don't love Lord +Carford?" Her question came abruptly and unlooked for. + +"I don't know your meaning." What concern had Carford with the French +lady? + +"I think you are in the way to learn it. Love makes men quick, doesn't +it? Yes, since you ask (your eyes asked), why, I'll confess that I'm a +little sorry that you fall in love again. But that by the way. Simon, +neither do I love this French lady." + +Had it not been for that morning's mood of mine, she would have won on +me again, and all my resolutions gone for naught. But she, not knowing +the working of my mind, took no pains to hide or to soften what repelled +me in her. I had seen it before, and yet loved; to her it would seem +strange that because a man saw, he should not love. I found myself sorry +for her, with a new and pitiful grief, but passion did not rise in me. +And concerning my pity I held my tongue; she would have only wonder and +mockery for it. But I think she was vexed to see me so unmoved; it irks +a woman to lose a man, however little she may have prized him when he +was her own. Nor do I mean to say that we are different from their sex +in that; it is, I take it, nature in woman and man alike. + +"At least we're friends, Simon," she said with a laugh. "And at least +we're Protestants." She laughed again. I looked up with a questioning +glance. "And at least we both hate the French," she continued. + +"It's true; I have no love for them. What then? What can we do?" + +She looked round cautiously, and, coming a little nearer to me, +whispered: + +"Late last night I had a visitor, one who doesn't love me greatly. What +does that matter? We row now in the same boat. I speak of the Duke of +Buckingham." + +"He is reconciled to my Lord Arlington by Madame's good offices," said +I. For so the story ran in the Castle. + +"Why, yes, he's reconciled to Arlington as the dog to the cat when their +master is by. Now there's a thing that the Duke suspects; and there's +another thing that he knows. He suspects that this treaty touches more +than war with the Dutch; though that I hate, for war swallows the King's +money like a well." + +"Some passes the mouth of the well, if report speaks true," I observed. + +"Peace, peace! Simon, the treaty touches more." + +"A man need not be Duke nor Minister to suspect that," said I. + +"Ah, you suspect? The King's religion?" she whispered. + +I nodded; the secret was no surprise to me, though I had not known +whether Buckingham were in it. + +"And what does the Duke of Buckingham know?" I asked. + +"Why, that the King sometimes listens to a woman's counsel," said she, +nodding her head and smiling very wisely. + +"Prodigious sagacity!" I cried. "You told him that, may be?" + +"Indeed, he had learnt it before my day, Master Simon. Therefore, should +the King turn Catholic, he will be a better Catholic for the society of +a Catholic lady. Now this Madame--how do you name her?" + +"Mlle. de Quérouaille?" + +"Aye. She is a most devout Catholic. Indeed, her devotion to her +religion knows no bounds. It's like mine to the King. Don't frown, +Simon. Loyalty is a virtue." + +"And piety also, by the same rule, and in the same unstinted measure?" I +asked bitterly. + +"Beyond doubt, sir. But the French King has sent word from Calais----" + +"Oh, from Calais! The Duke revealed that to you?" I asked with a smile I +could not smother. There was a limit then to the Duke's confidence in +his ally; for the Duke had been at Paris and could be no stranger to M. +de Perrencourt. + +"Yes, he told me all. The King of France has sent word from Calais, +where he awaits the signing of the treaty, that the loss of this Madame +Quérouaille would rob his Court of beauty, and he cannot be so bereft. +And Madame, the Duke says, swears she can't be robbed of her fairest +Maid of Honour ('tis a good name that, on my life) and left desolate. +But Madame has seen one who might make up the loss, and the King of +France, having studied the lady's picture, thinks the same. In fine, +Simon, our King feels that he can't be a good Catholic without the +counsels of Madame Quérouaille, and the French King feels that he must +by all means convert and save so fair a lady as--is the name on your +tongue, nay, is it in your heart, Simon?" + +"I know whom you mean," I answered, for her revelation came to no more +than what I had scented out for myself. "But what says Buckingham to +this?" + +"Why, that the King mustn't have his way lest he should thereby be +confirmed in his Popish inclinations. The Duke is Protestant, as you +are--and as I am, so please you." + +"Can he hinder it?" + +"Aye, if he can hinder the French King from having his way. And for this +purpose his Grace has need of certain things." + +"Do you carry a message from him to me?" + +"I did but say that I knew a gentleman who might supply his needs. They +are four; a heart, a head, a hand, and perhaps a sword." + +"All men have them, then." + +"The first true, the second long, the third strong, and the fourth +ready." + +"I fear then that I haven't all of them." + +"And for reward----" + +"I know. His life, if he can come off with it." + +Nell burst out laughing. + +"He didn't say that, but it may well reckon up to much that figure," she +admitted. "You'll think of it, Simon?" + +"Think of it? I! Not I!" + +"You won't?" + +"Or I mightn't attempt it." + +"Ah! You will attempt it?" + +"Of a certainty." + +"You're very ready. Is it all honesty?" + +"Is ever anything all honesty, madame--saving your devotion to the +King?" + +"And the French lady's to her religion?" laughed Nell. "On my soul, I +think the picture that the King of France saw was a fair one. Have you +looked on it, Simon?" + +"On my life I don't love her." + +"On my life you will." + +"You seek to stop me by that prophecy?" + +"I don't care whom you love," said she. Then her face broke into smiles. +"What liars women are!" she cried. "Yes, I do care; not enough to grow +wrinkled, but enough to wish I hadn't grown half a lady and could----" + +"You stop?" + +"Could--could--could slap your face, Simon." + +"It would be a light infliction after breaking a man's heart," said I, +turning my cheek to her and beckoning with my hand. + +"You should have a revenge on my face; not in kind, but in kindness. I +can't strike a man who won't hit back." She laughed at me with all her +old enticing gaiety. + +I had almost sealed the bargain; she was so roguish and so pretty. Had +we met first then, it is very likely she would have made the offer, and +very certain that I should have taken it. But there had been other days; +I sighed. + +"I loved you too well once to kiss you now, mistress," said I. + +"You're mighty strange at times, Simon," said she, sighing also, and +lifting her brows. "Now, I'd as lief kiss a man I had loved as any +other." + +"Or slap his face?" + +"If I'd never cared to kiss, I'd never care for the other either. You +rise?" + +"Why, yes. I have my commission, haven't I?" + +"I give you this one also, and yet you keep it?" + +"Is that slight not yet forgiven?" + +"All is forgiven and all is forgotten--nearly, Simon." + +At this instant--and since man is human, woman persistent, and courtesy +imperative, I did not quarrel with the interruption--a sound came from +the room above, strange in a house where Nell lived (if she will pardon +so much candour), but oddly familiar to me. I held up my hand and +listened. Nell's rippling laugh broke in. + +"Plague on him!" she cried. "Yes, he's here. Of a truth he's resolute to +convert me, and the fool amuses me." + +"Phineas Tate!" I exclaimed, amazed; for beyond doubt his was the voice. +I could tell his intonation of a penitential psalm among a thousand. I +had heard it in no other key. + +"You didn't know? Yet that other fool, your servant, is always with him. +They've been closeted together for two hours at a time." + +"Psalm-singing?" + +"Now and again. They're often quiet too." + +"He preaches to you?" + +"Only a little; when we chance to meet at the door he gives me a curse +and promises a blessing; no more." + +"It's very little to come to Dover for." + +"You would have come farther for less of my company once, sir." + +It was true, but it did not solve my wonder at the presence of Phineas +Tate. What brought the fellow? Had he too sniffed out something of what +was afoot and come to fight for his religion, even as Louise de +Quérouaille fought for hers, though in a most different fashion? + +I had reached the door of the room and was in the passage. Nell came to +the threshold and stood there smiling. I had asked no more questions and +made no conditions; I knew that Buckingham must not show himself in the +matter, and that all was left to me, heart, head, hand, sword, and also +that same reward, if I were so lucky as to come by it. I waited for a +moment, half expecting that Phineas, hearing my voice, would show +himself, but he did not appear. Nell waved her hand to me; I bowed and +took my leave, turning my steps back towards the Castle. The Court would +be awake, and whether on my own account or for my new commission's sake +I must be there. + +I had not mounted far before I heard a puffing and blowing behind. The +sound proved to come from Jonah Wall, who was toiling after me, laden +with a large basket. I had no eagerness for Jonah's society, but +rejoiced to see the basket; for my private store of food and wine had +run low, and if a man is to find out what he wants to know, it is well +for him to have a pasty and a bottle ready for those who can help him. + +"What have you there?" I called, waiting for him to overtake me. + +He explained that he had been making purchases in the town and I praised +his zeal. Then I asked him suddenly: + +"And have you visited your friend Mr Tate?" + +As I live, the fellow went suddenly pale, and the bottles clinked in +his basket from the shaking of his hand. Yet I spoke mildly enough. + +"I--I have seen him but once or twice, sir, since I learnt that he was +in the town. I thought you did not wish me to see him." + +"Nay, you can see him as much as you like, as long as I don't," I +answered in a careless tone, but keeping an attentive eye on Jonah. His +perturbation seemed strange. If Phineas' business were only the +conversion of Mistress Gwyn, what reason had Jonah Wall to go white as +Dover cliffs over it? + +We came to the Castle and I dismissed him, bidding him stow his load +safely in my quarters. Then I repaired to the Duke of Monmouth's +apartments, wondering in what mood I should find him after last night's +rebuff. Little did he think that I had been a witness of it. I entered +his room; he was sitting in his chair, with him was Carford. The Duke's +face was as glum and his air as ill-tempered as I could wish. Carford's +manner was subdued, calm, and sympathetic. They were talking earnestly +as I entered but ceased their conversation at once. I offered my +services. + +"I have no need of you this morning, Simon," answered the Duke. "I'm +engaged with Lord Carford." + +I retired. But of a truth that morning every one in the Castle was +engaged with someone else. At every turn I came on couples in anxious +consultation. The approach of an intruder brought immediate silence, +the barest civility delayed him, his departure was received gladly and +was signal for renewed consultation. Well, the King sets the mode, and +the King, I heard, was closeted with Madame and the Duke of York. + +But not with M. de Perrencourt. There was a hundred feet of the wall, +with a guard at one end and a guard at the other, and mid-way between +them a solitary figure stood looking down on Dover town and thence out +to sea. In an instant I recognised him, and a great desire came over me +to speak to him. He was the foremost man alive in that day, and I longed +to speak with him. To have known the great is to have tasted the true +flavour of your times. But how to pass the sentries? Their presence +meant that M. de Perrencourt desired privacy. I stepped up to one and +offered to pass. He barred the way. + +"But I'm in the service of his Grace the Duke of Monmouth," I +expostulated. + +"If you were in the service of the devil himself you couldn't pass here +without the King's order," retorted the fellow. + +"Won't his head serve as well as his order?" I asked, slipping a crown +into his hand. "Come, I've a message from his Grace for the French +gentleman. Yes, it's private. Deuce take it, do fathers always know of +their sons' doings?" + +"No, nor sons all their father's sometimes," he chuckled. "Along with +you quick, and run if you hear me whistle; it will mean my officer is +coming." + +I was alone in the sacred space with M. de Perrencourt. I assumed an +easy air and sauntered along, till I was within a few yards of him. +Hearing my step then, he looked round with a start and asked +peremptorily, + +"What's your desire, sir?" + +By an avowal of himself, even by quoting the King's order, he could +banish me. But if his cue were concealment and ignorance of the order, +why, I might indulge my curiosity. + +"Like your own, sir," I replied courteously, "a breath of fresh air and +a sight of the sea." + +He frowned a little, but I gave him no time to speak. + +"That fellow though," I pursued, "gave me to understand that none might +pass; yet the King is not here, is he?" + +"Then how did you pass, sir?" asked M. de Perrencourt, ignoring my last +question. + +"Why, with a lie, sir," I answered. "I said I had a message for you from +the Duke of Monmouth, and the fool believed me. But we gentlemen in +attendance must stand by one another. You'll not betray me? Your word on +it?" + +A slow smile broke across his face. + +"No, I'll not betray you," said he. "You speak French well, sir." + +"So M. de Fontelles, whom I met at Canterbury, told me. Do you chance to +know him, sir?" + +M. de Perrencourt did not start now; I should have been disappointed if +he had. + +"Very well," he answered. "If you're his friend, you're mine." He held +out his hand. + +"I take it on false pretences," said I with a laugh, as I shook it. "For +we came near to quarrelling, M. de Fontelles and I." + +"Ah, on what point?" + +"A nothing, sir." + +"Nay, but tell me." + +"Indeed I will not, if you'll pardon me." + +"Sir, I wish to know. I ins--I beg." A stare from me had stopped the +"insist" when it was half-way through his lips. On my soul, he flushed! +I tell my children sometimes how I made him flush; the thing was not +done often. Yet his confusion was but momentary, and suddenly, I know +not how, I in my turn became abashed with the cold stare of his eyes, +and when he asked me my name, I answered baldly, with never a bow and +never a flourish, "Simon Dale." + +"I have heard your name," said he gravely. Then he turned round and +began looking at the sea again. + +Now, had he been wearing his own clothes (if I may so say) this conduct +would have been appropriate enough; it would have been a dismissal and I +should have passed on my way. But a man should be consistent in his +disguises, and from M. de Perrencourt, gentleman-in-waiting, the +behaviour was mighty uncivil. Yet my revenge must be indirect. + +"Is it true, sir," I asked, coming close to him, "that the King of +France is yonder at Calais? So it's said." + +"I believe it to be true," answered M. de Perrencourt. + +"I wish he had come over," I cried. "I should love to see him, for they +say he's a very proper man, although he's somewhat short." + +M. de Perrencourt did not turn his head, but again I saw his cheek +flush. To speak of his low stature was, I had heard Monmouth say, to +commit the most dire offence in King Louis' eyes. + +"Now, how tall is the King, sir?" I asked. "Is he tall as you, sir?" + +M. de Perrencourt was still silent. To tell the truth, I began to be a +little uneasy; there were cells under the Castle, and I had need to be +at large for the coming few days. + +"For," said I, "they tell such lies concerning princes." + +Now he turned towards me, saying, + +"There you're right, sir. The King of France, is of middle size, about +my own height." + +For the life of me I could not resist it. I said nothing with my tongue, +but for a moment I allowed my eyes to say, "But then you're short, sir." +He understood, and for the third time he flushed. + +"I thought as much," said I, and with a bow I began to walk on. + +But, as ill-luck would have it, I was not to come clear off from my +indiscretion. In a moment I should have been out of sight. But as I +started I saw a gentleman pass the guard, who stood at the salute. It +was the King; escape was impossible. He walked straight up to me, bowing +carelessly in response to M. de Perrencourt's deferential inclination of +his person. + +"How come you here, Mr Dale?" he asked abruptly. "The guard tells me +that he informed you of my orders and that you insisted on passing." + +M. de Perrencourt felt that his turn was come; he stood there smiling. I +found nothing to say; if I repeated my fiction of a message, the French +gentleman, justly enraged, would betray me. + +"M. de Perrencourt seemed lonely, sir," I answered at last. + +"A little loneliness hurts no man," said the King. He took out his +tablets and began to write. When he was done, he gave me the message, +adding, "Read it." I read, "Mr Simon Dale will remain under arrest in +his own apartment for twenty-four hours, and will not leave it except by +the express command of the King." I made a wry face. + +"If the Duke of Monmouth wants me----" I began. + +"He'll have to do without you, Mr Dale," interrupted the King. "Come, M. +de Perrencourt, will you give me your arm?" And off he went on the +French gentleman's arm, leaving me most utterly abashed, and cursing the +curiosity that had brought me to this trouble. + +"So much for the Duke of Buckingham's 'long head,'" said I to myself +ruefully, as I made my way towards the Constable's Tower, in which his +Grace was lodged, and where I had my small quarters. + +Indeed, I might well feel a fool; for the next twenty-four hours, during +which I was to be a prisoner, would in all likelihood see the issue in +which I was pledged to bear a part. Now I could do nothing. Yet at least +I must send speedy word to the town that I was no longer to be looked to +for any help, and when I reached my room I called loudly for Jonah Wall. +It was but the middle of the day, yet he was not to be seen. I walked to +the door and found, not Jonah, but a guard on duty. + +"What are you doing here?" + +"Seeing that you stay here, sir," he answered, with a grin. + +Then the King was very anxious that I should obey his orders, and had +lost no time in ensuring my obedience; he was right to take his +measures, for, standing where I did, his orders would not have +restrained me. I was glad that he had set a guard on me in lieu of +asking my parole. For much as I love sin, I hate temptation. Yet where +was Jonah Wall, and how could I send my message? I flung myself on the +bed in deep despondency. A moment later the door opened, and Robert, +Darrell's servant, entered. + +"My master begs to know if you will sup with him to-night, sir." + +"Thank him kindly," said I; "but if you ask that gentleman outside, +Robert, he'll tell you that I must sup at home by the King's desire. I'm +under arrest, Robert." + +"My master will be grieved to hear it, sir, and the more because he +hoped that you would bring some wine with you, for he has none, and he +has guests to sup with him." + +"Ah, an interested invitation! How did Mr Darrell know that I had wine?" + +"Your servant Jonah spoke of it to me, sir, and said that you would be +glad to send my master some." + +"Jonah is liberal! But I'm glad, and assure Mr Darrell of it. Where is +my rascal?" + +"I saw him leave the Castle about an hour ago; just after he spoke to me +about the wine." + +"Curse him! I wanted him. Well, take the wine. There are six bottles +that he got to-day." + +"There is French wine here, sir, and Spanish. May I take either?" + +"Take the French in God's name. I don't want that. I've had enough of +France. Stay, though, I believe Mr Darrell likes the Spanish better." + +"Yes, sir; but his guests will like the French." + +"And who are these guests?" + +Robert swelled with pride. + +"I thought Jonah would have told you, sir," said he. "The King is to sup +with my master." + +"Then," said I, "I'm well excused. For no man knows better than the King +why I can't come." + +The fellow took his bottles and went off grinning. I, being left, fell +again to cursing myself for a fool, and in this occupation I passed the +hours of the afternoon. + + + + +CHAPTER XIV + +THE KING'S CUP + + +At least the Vicar would be pleased! A whimsical joy in the anticipation +of his delight shot across my gloomy meditations as the sunset rays +threaded their way through the narrow window of the chamber that was my +cell. The thought of him stayed with me, amusing my idleness and +entertaining my fancy. I could imagine his wise, contented nod, far from +surprise as the poles are apart, full of self-approval as an egg of +meat. For his vision had been clear, in him faith had never wavered. Of +a truth, the prophecy which old Betty Nasroth spoke (foolishness though +it were) was, through Fortune's freak, two parts fulfilled. What +remained might rest unjustified to my great content; small comfort had I +won from so much as had come to pass. I had loved where the King loved, +and my youth, though it raised its head again, still reeled under the +blow; I knew what the King hid--aye, it might be more than one thing +that he hid; my knowledge landed me where I lay now, in close +confinement with a gaoler at my door. For my own choice, I would crave +the Vicar's pardon, would compound with destiny, and, taking the +proportion of fate's gifts already dealt to me in lieu of all, would go +in peace to humbler doings, beneath the dignity of dark prophecy, but +more fit to give a man quiet days and comfort in his life. Indeed, as my +lord Quinton had said long ago, there was strange wine in the King's +cup, and I had no desire to drink of it. Yet who would not have been +moved by the strange working of events which made the old woman's +prophecy seem the true reading of a future beyond guess or reasonable +forecast? I jeered and snarled at myself, at Betty, at her prophecy, at +the Vicar's credulity. But the notion would not be expelled; two parts +stood accomplished, but the third remained. "Glamis thou art, and +Cawdor, and shalt be what thou art promised!"--I forget how it runs on, +for it is long since I saw the play, though I make bold to think that it +is well enough written. Alas, no good came of listening to witches +there, if my memory holds the story of the piece rightly. + +There is little profit, and less entertainment, in the record of my +angry desponding thoughts. Now I lay like a log, again I ranged the cell +as a beast his cage. I cared not a stiver for Buckingham's schemes, I +paid small heed to Nell's jealousy. It was nought to me who should be +the King's next favourite, and although I, with all other honest men, +hated a Popish King, the fear of him would not have kept me from my +sleep or from my supper. Who eats his dinner the less though a kingdom +fall? To take a young man's appetite away, and keep his eyes open o' +nights, needs a nearer touch than that. But I had on me a horror of what +was being done in this place; they sold a lady's honour there, throwing +it in for a make-weight in their bargain. I would have dashed the scales +from their hands, but I was helpless. There is the truth: a man need not +be ashamed for having had a trifle of honesty about him when he was +young. And if my honesty had the backing of something else that I myself +knew not yet, why, for honesty's good safety, God send it such backing +always! Without some such aid, it is too often brought to terms and +sings small in the end. + +The evening grew late and darkness had fallen. I turned again to my +supper and contrived to eat and to drink a glass or two of wine. +Suddenly I remembered Jonah Wall, and sent a curse after the negligent +fellow, wherever he might be, determining that next morning he should +take his choice between a drubbing and dismissal. Then I stretched +myself again on the pallet, resolute to see whether a man could will +himself asleep. But I had hardly closed my eyes when I opened them again +and started up, leaning on my elbow. There was somebody in conversation +with my gaoler. The conference was brief. + +"Here's the King's order," I heard, in a haughty, careless tone. "Open +the door, fellow, and be quick." + +The door was flung open. I sprang to my feet with a bow. The Duke of +Buckingham stood before me, surveying my person (in truth, my state was +very dishevelled) and my quarters with supercilious amusement. There was +one chair, and I set it for him; he sat down, pulling off his +lace-trimmed gloves. + +"You are the gentleman I wanted?" he asked. + +"I have reason to suppose so, your Grace," I answered. + +"Good," said he. "The Duke of Monmouth and I have spoken to the King on +your behalf." + +I bowed grateful acknowledgments. + +"You are free," he continued, to my joy. "You'll leave the Castle in two +hours," he added, to my consternation. But he appeared to perceive +neither effect of his words. "Those are the King's orders," he ended +composedly. + +"But," I cried, "if I leave the Castle how can I fulfil your Grace's +desire?" + +"I said those were the King's orders. I have something to add to them. +Here, I have written it down, that you may understand and not forget. +Your lantern there gives a poor light, but your eyes are young. Read +what is written, sir." + +I took the paper that he handed me and read: + +"In two hours' time be at Canonsgate. The gate will be open. Two serving +men will be there with two horses. A lady will be conducted to the gate +and delivered into your charge. You will ride with her as speedily as +possible to Deal. You will call her your sister, if need arise to speak +of her. Go to the hostelry of the Merry Mariners in Deal, and there +await a gentleman, who will come in the morning and hand you fifty +guineas in gold. Deliver the lady to this gentleman, return immediately +to London, and lie in safe hiding till word reaches you from me." + +I read and turned to him in amazement. + +"Well," he asked, "isn't it plain enough?" + +"The lady I can guess," I answered, "but I pray your Grace to tell me +who is the gentleman." + +"What need is there for you to know? Do you think that more than one +will seek you at the Merry Mariners Tavern and pray your acceptance of +fifty guineas?" + +"But I should like to know who this one is." + +"You'll know when you see him." + +"With respect to your Grace, this is not enough to tell me." + +"You can't be told more, sir." + +"Then I won't go." + +He frowned and beat his gloves on his thigh impatiently. + +"A gentleman, your Grace," said I, "must be trusted, or he cannot +serve." + +He looked round the little cell and asked significantly, + +"Is your state such as to entitle you to make conditions?" + +"Only if your Grace has need of services which I can give or refuse," I +answered, bowing. + +His irritation suddenly vanished, or seemed to vanish. He leant back in +his chair and laughed. + +"Yet all the time," said he, "you've guessed the gentleman! Isn't it so? +Come, Mr Dale, we understand one another. This service, if all goes +well, is simple. But if you're interrupted in leaving the Castle, you +must use your sword. Well, if you use your sword and don't prove +victorious, you may be taken. If you're taken it will be best for us all +that you shouldn't know the name of this gentleman, and best for him and +for me that I should not have mentioned it." + +The little doubt I had harboured was gone. Buckingham and Monmouth were +hand in hand. Buckingham's object was political, Monmouth was to find +his reward in the prize that I was to rescue from the clutches of M. de +Perrencourt and hand over to him at the hostelry in Deal. If success +attended the attempt, I was to disappear; if it failed, my name and I +were to be the shield and bear the brunt. The reward was fifty guineas, +and perhaps a serviceable gratitude in the minds of two great men, +provided I lived to enjoy the fruit of it. + +"You'll accept this task?" asked the Duke. + +The task was to thwart M. de Perrencourt and gratify the Duke of +Monmouth. If I refused it, another might accept and accomplish it; if +such a champion failed, M. de Perrencourt would triumph. If I accepted, +I should accept in the fixed intention of playing traitor to one of my +employers. I might serve Buckingham's turn, I should seek to thwart +Monmouth. + +"Who pays me fifty guineas?" I asked. + +"Faith, I," he answered with a shrug. "Young Monmouth is enough his +father's son to have his pockets always empty." + +On this excuse I settled my point of casuistry in an instant. + +"Then I'll carry the lady away from the Castle," I cried. + +He started, leant forward, and looked hard in my face. "What do you +mean, what do you know?" he asked plainly enough, although silently. But +I had cried out with an appearance of zeal and innocence that baffled +his curiosity, and my guileless expression gave his suspicions no food. +Perhaps, too, he had no wish to enquire. There was little love between +him and Monmouth, for he had been bitterly offended by the honours and +precedence assigned to the Duke; only a momentary coincidence of +interest bound them together in this scheme. If the part that concerned +Buckingham were accomplished, he would not break his heart on account of +the lady not being ready for Monmouth at the hostelry of the Merry +Mariners. + +"I think, then, that we understand one another, Mr Dale?" said he, +rising. + +"Well enough, your Grace," I answered with a bow, and I rapped on the +door. The gaoler opened it. + +"Mr Dale is free to go where he will within the Castle. You can return +to your quarters," said Buckingham. + +The soldier marched off. Buckingham turned to me. + +"Good fortune in your enterprise," he said. "And I give you joy on your +liberty." + +The words were not out of his mouth when a lieutenant and two men +appeared, approaching us at a rapid walk, nay, almost at a run. They +made directly for us, the Duke and I both watching them. The officer's +sword was drawn in his hand, their daggers were fixed in the muzzles of +the soldiers' muskets. + +"What's happened now?" asked Buckingham in a whisper. + +The answer was not long in coming. The lieutenant halted before us, +crying, + +"In the King's name, I arrest you, sir." + +"On my soul, you've a habit of being arrested, sir," said the Duke +sharply. "What's the cause this time?" + +"I don't know," I answered; and I asked the officer, "On what account, +sir?" + +"The King's orders," he answered curtly. "You must come with me at +once." At a sign from him his men took their stand on either side of me. +Verily, my liberty had been short! "I must warn you that we shall stand +at nothing if you try to escape," said the officer sternly. + +"I'm not a fool, sir," I answered. "Where are you going to take me?" + +"Where my orders direct." + +"Come, come," interrupted Buckingham impatiently, "not so much mystery. +You know me? Well, this gentleman is my friend, and I desire to know +where you take him." + +"I crave your Grace's pardon, but I must not answer." + +"Then I'll follow you and discover," cried the Duke angrily. + +"At your Grace's peril," answered the officer firmly. "If you insist, I +must leave one of my men to detain you here. Mr Dale must go alone with +me." + +Wrath and wonder were eloquent on the proud Duke's face. In me this new +misadventure bred a species of resignation. I smiled at him, as I said, + +"My business with your Grace must wait, it seems." + +"Forward, sir," cried the officer, impatiently, and I was marched off at +a round pace, Buckingham not attempting to follow, but turning back in +the direction of the Duke of Monmouth's quarters. The confederates must +seek a new instrument now; if their purpose were to thwart the King's +wishes, they might not find what they wanted again so easily. + +I was conducted straight and quickly to the keep, and passed up the +steps that led to the corridor in which the King was lodged. They +hurried me along, and I had time to notice nothing until I came to a +door near the end of the building, on the western side. Here I found +Darrell, apparently on guard, for his sword was drawn and a pistol in +his left hand. + +"Here, sir, is Mr Dale," said my conductor. + +"Good," answered Darrell briefly. I saw that his face was very pale, and +he accorded me not the least sign of recognition. "Is he armed?" he +asked. + +"You see I have no weapons, Mr Darrell," said I stiffly. + +"Search him," commanded Darrell, ignoring me utterly. + +I grew hot and angry. The soldiers obeyed the order. I fixed my eyes on +Darrell, but he would not meet my gaze; the point of his sword tapped +the floor on which it rested, for his hand was shaking like a leaf. + +"There's no weapon on him," announced the officer. + +"Very well. Leave him with me, sir, and retire with your men to the foot +of the steps. If you hear a whistle, return as quickly as possible." + +The officer bowed, turned about, and departed, followed by his men. +Darrell and I stood facing one another for a moment. + +"In hell's name, what's the meaning of this, Darrell?" I cried. "Has +Madame brought the Bastille over with her, and are you made Governor?" + +He answered not a word. Keeping his sword still in readiness, he +knocked with the muzzle of his pistol on the door by him. After a moment +it was opened, and a head looked out. The face was Sir Thomas +Clifford's; the door was flung wide, a gesture from Darrell bade me +enter. I stepped in, he followed, and the door was instantly shut close +behind us. + +I shall not readily forget the view disclosed to me by the flaring oil +lamps hung in sconces to the ancient smoky walls. I was in a narrow +room, low and not large, scantly furnished with faded richness, and hung +to half its height with mouldering tapestries. The floor was bare, and +uneven from time and use. In the middle of the room was a long table of +polished oak wood; in the centre of it sat the King, on his left was the +Duchess of Orleans, and beyond her the Duke of York; on the King's right +at the end of the table was an empty chair; Clifford moved towards it +now and took his seat; next to him was Arlington, then Colbert de +Croissy, the Special Envoy of the French King. Next to our King was +another empty chair, an arm-chair, like the King's; empty it was, but M. +de Perrencourt leant easily over the back of it, with his eyes fixed on +me. On the table were materials for writing, and a large sheet of paper +faced the King--or M. de Perrencourt; it seemed just between them. There +was nothing else on the table except a bottle of wine and two cups; one +was full to the brim, while the liquor in the other fell short of the +top of the glass by a quarter of an inch. All present were silent; save +M. de Perrencourt, all seemed disturbed; the King's swarthy face +appeared rather pale than swarthy, and his hand rapped nervously on the +table. All this I saw, while Darrell stood rigidly by me, sword in hand. + +Madame was the first to speak; her delicate subtle face lit up with +recognition. + +"Why, I have spoken with this gentleman," she said in a low voice. + +"And I also," said M. de Perrencourt under his breath. + +I think he hardly knew that he spoke, for the words seemed the merest +unconscious outcome of his thoughts. + +The King raised his hand, as though to impose silence. Madame bowed in +apologetic submission, M. de Perrencourt took no heed of the gesture, +although he did not speak again. A moment later he laid his hand on +Colbert's shoulder and whispered to him. I thought I heard just a +word--it was "Fontelles." Colbert looked up and nodded. M. de +Perrencourt folded his arms on the back of the chair, and his face +resumed its impassivity. + +Another moment elapsed before the King spoke. His voice was calm, but +there seemed still to echo in it a trace of some violent emotion newly +passed; a slight smile curved his lips, but there was more malice than +mirth in it. + +"Mr Dale," said he, "the gentleman who stands by you once beguiled an +idle minute for me by telling me of a certain strange prophecy made +concerning you which he had, he said, from your own lips, and in which +my name--or at least some King's name--and yours were quaintly coupled. +You know what I refer to?" + +I bowed low, wondering what in Heaven's name he would be at. It was, no +doubt, high folly to love Mistress Gwyn, but scarcely high treason. +Besides, had not I repented and forsworn her? Ah, but the second member +of the prophecy? I glanced eagerly at M. de Perrencourt, eagerly at the +paper before the King. There were lines on the paper, but I could not +read them, and M. de Perrencourt's face was fully as baffling. + +"If I remember rightly," pursued the King, after listening to a +whispered sentence from his sister, "the prediction foretold that you +should drink of my cup. Is it not so?" + +"It was so, Sir, although what your Majesty quotes was the end, not the +beginning of it." + +For an instant a smile glimmered on the King's face; it was gone and he +proceeded gravely. + +"I am concerned only with that part of it. I love prophecies and I love +to see them fulfilled. You see that cup there, the one that is not quite +full. That cup of wine was poured out for me, the other for my friend M. +de Perrencourt. I pray you, drink of my cup and let the prophecy stand +fulfilled." + +In honest truth I began to think that the King had drunk other cups +before and left them not so full. Yet he looked sober enough, and the +rest were grave and mute. What masquerade was this, to bring me under +guard and threat of death to drink a cup of wine? I would have drunk a +dozen of my free will, for the asking. + +"Your Majesty desires me to drink that cup of wine?" I asked. + +"If you please, sir; the cup that was poured out for me." + +"With all my heart," I cried, and, remembering my manners, I added, "and +with most dutiful thanks to Your Majesty for this signal honour." + +A stir, hardly to be seen, yet certain, ran round the table. Madame +stretched out a hand towards the cup as though with a sudden impulse to +seize it; the King caught her hand and held it prisoner. M. de +Perrencourt suddenly dragged his chair back and, passing in front of it, +stood close over the table. Colbert looked up at him, but his eyes were +fixed on me, and the Envoy went unnoticed. + +"Then come and take it," said the King. + +I advanced after a low bow. Darrell, to my fresh wonder, kept pace with +me, and when I reached the table was still at my side. Before I could +move his sword might be through me or the ball from his pistol in my +brains. The strange scene began to intoxicate me, its stirring +suggestion mounting to my head like fumes of wine. I seized the cup and +held it high in my hand. I looked down in the King's face, and thence to +Madame's; to her I bowed low and cried: + +"By His Majesty's permission I will drain this cup to the honour of the +fairest and most illustrious Princess, Madame the Duchess of Orleans." + +The Duchess half-rose from her seat, crying in a loud whisper, "Not to +me, no, no! I can't have him drink it to me." + +The King still held her hand. + +"Drink it to me, Mr Dale," said he. + +I bowed to him and put the cup to my lips. I was in the act to drink, +when M. de Perrencourt spoke. + +"A moment, sir," he said calmly. "Have I the King's permission to tell +Mr Dale a secret concerning this wine?" + +The Duke of York looked up with a frown, the King turned to M. de +Perrencourt as if in doubt, the Frenchman met his glance and nodded. + +"M. de Perrencourt is our guest," said the King. "He must do as he +will." + +M. de Perrencourt, having thus obtained permission (when was his will +denied him?), leant one hand on the table and, bending across towards +me, said in slow, calm, yet impressive tones: + +"The King, sir, was wearied with business and parched with talking; of +his goodness he detected in me the same condition. So he bade my good +friend and his good subject Mr Darrell furnish him with a bottle of +wine, and Mr Darrell brought a bottle, saying that the King's cellar +was shut and the cellarman in bed, but praying the King to honour him by +drinking his wine, which was good French wine, such as the King loved +and such as he hoped to put before His Majesty at supper presently. Then +His Majesty asked whence it came, and Mr Darrell answered that he was +indebted for it to his good friend Mr Simon Dale, who would be honoured +by the King's drinking it." + +"Why, it's my own wine then!" I cried, smiling now. + +"He spoke the truth, did he?" pursued M. de Perrencourt composedly. "It +is your wine, sent by you to Mr Darrell?" + +"Even so, sir," I answered. "Mr. Darrell's wine was out, and I sent him +some bottles of wine by his servant." + +"You knew for what he needed it?" + +I had forgotten for the moment what Robert said, and hesitated in my +answer. M. de Perrencourt looked intently at me. + +"I think," said I, "that Robert told me Mr Darrell expected the King to +sup with him." + +"He told you that?" he asked sharply. + +"Yes, I remember that," said I, now thoroughly bewildered by the history +and the catechism which seemed necessary to an act so simple as drinking +a glass of my own wine. + +M. de Perrencourt said nothing more, but his eyes were still set on my +face with a puzzled searching expression. His glance confused me, and I +looked round the table. Often at such moments the merest trifles catch +our attention, and now for the first time I observed that a little of +the wine had been spilt on the polished oak of the table; where it had +fallen the bright surface seemed rusted to dull brown. I noticed the +change, and wondered for an idle second how it came that wine turned a +polished table dull. The thing was driven from my head the next moment +by a brief and harsh order from the King. + +"Drink, sir, drink." + +Strained with excitement, I started at the order, and slopped some of +the wine from the cup on my hand. I felt a strange burning where it +fell; but again the King cried, "Drink, sir." + +I hesitated no more. Recalling my wandering wits and determining to play +my part in the comedy, whatever it might mean, I bowed, cried "God save +your Majesty," and raised the cup to my lips. As it touched them, I saw +Madame hide her eyes with her hand and M. de Perrencourt lean farther +across the table, while a short quick gasp of breath came from where +Darrell stood by my side. + +I knew how to take off a bumper of wine. No sippings and swallowings for +me! I laid my tongue well down in the bottom of my mouth that the liquor +might have fair passage to my gullet, and threw my head back as you see +a hen do (in thanks to heaven, they say, though she drinks only water). +Then I tilted the cup, and my mouth was full of the wine. I was +conscious of a taste in it, a strange acrid taste. Why, it was poor +wine, turned sour; it should go back to-morrow; that fool Jonah was a +fool in all things; and I stood disgraced for offering this acrid stuff +to a friend. And he gave it to the King! It was the cruellest chance. +Why---- + +Suddenly, when I had gulped down but one good mouthful, I saw M. de +Perrencourt lean right across the table. Yet I saw him dimly, for my +eyes seemed to grow glazed and the room to spin round me, the figures at +the table taking strange shapes and weird dim faces, and a singing +sounding in my ears, as though the sea roared there and not on Dover +beach. There was a woman's cry, and a man's arm shot out at me. I felt a +sharp blow on my wrist, the cup was dashed from my hand on to the stone +floor, breaking into ten thousand pieces, while the wine made a puddle +at my feet. I stood there for an instant, struck motionless, glaring +into the face that was opposite to mine. It was M. de Perrencourt's, no +longer calm, but pale and twitching. This was the last thing I saw +clearly. The King and his companions were fused in a shifting mass of +trunks and faces, the walls raced round, the singing of the sea roared +and fretted in my ears. I caught my hand to my brow and staggered; I +could not stand, I heard a clatter as though of a sword falling to the +floor, arms were stretched out to receive me and I sank into them, +hearing a murmur close by me, "Simon, Simon!" + +Yet one thing more I heard, before my senses left me--a loud, proud, +imperious voice, the voice that speaks to be obeyed, whose assertion +brooks no contradiction. It rang in my ears where nothing else could +reach them, and even then I knew whence it came. The voice was the voice +of M. de Perrencourt, and it seemed that he spoke to the King of +England. + +"Brother," he cried, "by my faith in God, this gentleman is innocent, +and his life is on our heads, if he lose it." + +I heard no more. Stupor veiled me round in an impenetrable mist. The +figures vanished, the tumultuous singing ceased. A great silence +encompassed me, and all was gone. + + + + +CHAPTER XV + +M. DE PERRENCOURT WHISPERS + + +Slowly the room and the scene came back to me, disengaging themselves +from the darkness which had settled on my eyes, regaining distinctness +and their proper form. I was sitting in a chair, and there were wet +bandages about my head. Those present before were there still, save M. +de Perrencourt, whose place at the table was vacant; the large sheet of +paper and the materials for writing had vanished. There was a fresh +group at the end, next to Arlington; here now sat the Dukes of Monmouth +and Buckingham, carrying on a low conversation with the Secretary. The +King lay back in his chair, frowning and regarding with severe gaze a +man who stood opposite to him, almost where I had been when I drank of +the King's cup. There stood Darrell and the lieutenant of the Guards who +had arrested me, and between them, with clothes torn and muddy, face +scratched and stained with blood, with panting breath and gleaming eyes, +firmly held by either arm, was Phineas Tate the Ranter. They had sent +and caught him then, while I lay unconscious. But what led them to +suspect him? + +There was the voice of a man speaking from the other side of this party +of three. I could not see him, for their bodies came between, but I +recognised the tones of Robert, Darrell's servant. It was he, then, who +had put them on Jonah's track, and, in following that, they must have +come on Phineas. + +"We found the two together," he was saying, "this man and Mr Dale's +servant who had brought the wine from the town. Both were armed with +pistols and daggers, and seemed ready to meet an attack. In the alley in +front of the house that I have named----" + +"Yes, yes, enough of the house," interrupted the King impatiently. + +"In the alley there were two horses ready. We attacked the men at once, +the lieutenant and I making for this one here, the two with us striving +to secure Jonah Wall. This man struggled desperately, but seemed +ignorant of how to handle his weapons. Yet he gave us trouble enough, +and we had to use him roughly. At last we had him, but then we found +that Jonah, who fought like a wild cat, had wounded both the soldiers +with his knife, and, although himself wounded, had escaped by the +stairs. Leaving this man with the lieutenant, I rushed down after him, +but one of the horses was gone, and I heard no sound of hoofs. He had +got a start of us, and is well out of Dover by now." + +I was straining all my attention to listen, yet my eyes fixed themselves +on Phineas, whose head was thrown back defiantly. Suddenly a voice came +from behind my chair. + +"That man must be pursued," said M. de Perrencourt. "Who knows that +there may not be accomplices in this devilish plot? This man has planned +to poison the King; the servant was his confederate. I say, may there +not have been others in the wicked scheme?" + +"True, true," said the King uneasily. "We must lay this Jonah Wall by +the heels. What's known of him?" + +Thinking the appeal was made to me, I strove to rise. M. de +Perrencourt's arm reached over the back of my chair and kept me down. I +heard Darrell take up the story and tell what he knew--and it was as +much as I knew--of Jonah Wall, and what he knew of Phineas Tate also. + +"It is a devilish plot," said the King, who was still greatly shaken and +perturbed. + +Then Phineas spoke loudly, boldly, and with a voice full of the +rapturous fanaticism which drowned conscience and usurped in him +religion's place. + +"Here," he cried, "are the plots, here are the devilish plots! What do +you here? Aye, what do you plot here? Is this man's life more than God's +Truth? Is God's Word to be lost that the sins and debauchery of this man +may continue?" + +His long lean forefinger pointed at the King. A mute consternation fell +for an instant on them all, and none interrupted him. They had no answer +ready for his question; men do not count on such questions being asked +at Court, the manners are too good there. + +"Here are the plots! I count myself blessed to die in the effort to +thwart them! I have failed, but others shall not fail! God's Judgment is +sure. What do you here, Charles Stuart?" + +M. de Perrencourt walked suddenly and briskly round to where the King +sat and whispered in his ear. The King nodded, and said, + +"I think this fellow is mad, but it's a dangerous madness." + +Phineas did not heed him, but cried aloud, + +"And you here--are you all with him? Are you all apostates from God? Are +you all given over to the superstitions of Rome? Are you all here to +barter God's word and----" + +The King sprang to his feet. + +"I won't listen," he cried. "Stop his cursed mouth. I won't listen." He +looked round with fear and alarm in his eyes. I perceived his gaze +turned towards his son and Buckingham. Following it, I saw their faces +alight with eagerness, excitement, and curiosity. Arlington looked down +at the table; Clifford leant his head on his hand. At the other end the +Duke of York had sprung up like his brother, and was glaring angrily at +the bold prisoner. Darrell did not wait to be bidden twice, but whipped +a silk handkerchief from his pocket. + +"Here and now the deed is being done!" cried Phineas. "Here and now----" +He could say no more; in spite of his desperate struggles, he was gagged +and stood silent, his eyes still burning with the message which his lips +were not suffered to utter. The King sank back in his seat, and cast a +furtive glance round the table. Then he sighed, as though in relief, and +wiped his brow. Monmouth's voice came clear, careless, confident. + +"What's this madness?" he asked. "Who here is bartering God's Word? And +for what, pray?" + +No answer was given to him; he glanced in insolent amusement at +Arlington and Clifford, then in insolent defiance at the Duke of York. + +"Is not the religion of the country safe with the King?" he asked, +bowing to his father. + +"So safe, James, that it does not need you to champion it," said the +King dryly; yet his voice trembled a little. Phineas raised that lean +forefinger at him again, and pointed. "Tie the fellow's arms to his +side," the King commanded in hasty irritation; he sighed again when the +finger could no longer point at him, and his eyes again furtively sought +Monmouth's face. The young Duke leant back with a scornful smile, and +the consciousness of the King's regard did not lead him to school his +face to any more seemly expression. My wits had come back now, although +my head ached fiercely and my body was full of acute pain; but I +watched all that passed, and I knew that, come what might, they would +not let Phineas speak. Yet Phineas could know nothing. Nay, but the +shafts of madness, often wide, may once hit the mark. The paper that had +lain between the King and M. de Perrencourt was hidden. + +Again the French gentleman bent and whispered in the King's ear. He +spoke long this time, and all kept silence while he spoke--Phineas +because he must, the lieutenant with surprised eyes, the rest in that +seeming indifference which, as I knew, masked their real deference. At +last the King looked up, nodded, and smiled. His air grew calmer and +more assured, and the trembling was gone from his voice as he spoke. + +"Come, gentlemen," said he, "while we talk this ruffian who has escaped +us makes good pace from Dover. Let the Duke of Monmouth and the Duke of +Buckingham each take a dozen men and scour the country for him. I shall +be greatly in the debt of either who brings him to me." + +The two Dukes started. The service which the King demanded of them +entailed an absence of several hours from the Castle. It might be that +they, or one of them, would learn something from Jonah Wall; but it was +far more likely that they would not find him, or that he would not +suffer himself to be taken alive. Why were they sent, and not a couple +of the officers on duty? But if the King's object were to secure their +absence, the scheme was well laid. I thought now that I could guess +what M. de Perrencourt had said in that whispered conference. Buckingham +had the discretion to recognise when the game went against him. He rose +at once with a bow, declaring that he hastened to obey the King's +command, and would bring the fellow in, dead or alive. Monmouth had less +self-control. He rose indeed, but reluctantly and with a sullen frown on +his handsome face. + +"It's poor work looking for a single man over the countryside," he +grumbled. + +"Your devotion to me will inspire and guide you, James," observed the +King. A chance of mocking another made him himself again as no other +cure could. "Come, lose no time." Then the King added: "Take this fellow +away, and lock him up. Mr Darrell, see that you guard him well, and let +nobody come near him." + +M. de Perrencourt whispered. + +"Above all, let him speak to nobody. He must tell what he knows only at +the right time," added the King. + +"When will that be?" asked Monmouth audibly, yet so low that the King +could feign not to hear and smiled pleasantly at his son. But still the +Duke lingered, although Buckingham was gone and Phineas Tate had been +led out between his custodians. His eyes sought mine, and I read an +appeal in them. That he desired to take me with him in pursuit of Jonah +Wall, I did not think; but he desired above all things to get me out of +that room, to have speech with me, to know that I was free to work out +the scheme which Buckingham had disclosed to me. Nay, it was not +unlikely that his search for Jonah Wall would lead him to the hostelry +of the Merry Mariners at Deal. And for my plan too, which differed so +little yet so much from his, for that also I must be free. I rose to my +feet, delighted to find that I could stand well and that my pains grew +no more severe with movement. + +"I am at your Grace's orders," said I. "May I ride with you, sir?" + +The King looked at me doubtfully. + +"I should be glad of your company," said the Duke, "if your health +allows." + +"Most fully, sir," I answered, and turning to the King I begged his +leave to depart. And that leave I should, as I think, have obtained, but +for the fact that once again M. de Perrencourt whispered to the King. +The King rose from his seat, took M. de Perrencourt's arm and walked +with him to where his Grace stood. I watched them, till a little stifled +laugh caught my attention. Madame's face was merry, and hers the laugh. +She saw my look on her and laughed again, raising her finger to her lips +in a swift stealthy motion. She glanced round apprehensively, but her +action had passed unnoticed; the Duke of York seemed sunk in a dull +apathy, Clifford and Arlington were busy in conversation. What did she +mean? Did she confess that I held their secret and impose silence on me +by a more than royal command, by the behest of bright eyes and red lips +which dared me to betray their confidence? On the moment's impulse I +bowed assent; Madame nodded merrily and waved a kiss with her dainty +hand; no word passed, but I felt that I, being a gentleman, could tell +no man alive what I suspected, aye, what I knew, concerning M. de +Perrencourt. Thus lightly are pledges given when ladies ask them. + +The Duke of Monmouth started back with a sudden angry motion. The King +smiled at him; M. de Perrencourt laid a hand, decked with rich rings, on +his lace cuff. Madame rose, laughing still, and joined the three. I +cannot tell what passed--alas, that the matters of highest interest are +always elusive!--but a moment later Monmouth fell back with as sour a +look as I have ever seen on a man's face, bowed slightly and not +over-courteously, faced round and strode through the doorway, opening +the door for himself. I heard Madame's gay laugh, again the King spoke, +Madame cried, "Fie," and hid her face with her hand. M. de Perrencourt +advanced towards me; the King caught his arm. "Pooh, he knows already," +muttered Perrencourt, half under his breath, but he gave way, and the +King came to me first. + +"Sir," said he, "the Duke of Monmouth has had the dutiful kindness to +release his claim on your present services, and to set you free to serve +me." + +I bowed very low, answering, + +"His Grace is bountiful of kindness to me, and has given the greatest +proof of it in enabling me to serve Your Majesty." + +"My pleasure is," pursued the King, "that you attach yourself to my +friend M. de Perrencourt here, and accompany him and hold yourself at +his disposal until further commands from me reach you." + +M. de Perrencourt stepped forward and addressed me. + +"In two hours' time, sir," said he, "I beg you to be ready to accompany +me. A ship lies yonder at the pier, waiting to carry His Excellency M. +Colbert de Croissy and myself to Calais to-night on business of moment. +Since the King gives you to me, I pray your company." + +"Till then, Mr Dale, adieu," said the King. "Not a word of what has +passed here to-night to any man--or any woman. Be in readiness. You know +enough, I think, to tell you that you receive a great honour in M. de +Perrencourt's request. Your discretion will show your worthiness. Kiss +Madame's hand and leave us." + +They both smiled at me, and I stood half-bewildered. "Go," said M. de +Perrencourt with a laugh, clapping me on the shoulder. The two turned +away. Madame held out her hand towards me; I bent and kissed it. + +"Mr Dale," said she, "you have all the virtues." + +"Alas, Madame, I fear you don't mean to commend me." + +"Yes, for a rarity, at least. But you have one vice." + +"It shall be mended, if your Royal Highness will tell its name." + +"Nay, I shall increase it by naming it. But here it is; your eyes are +too wide open, Mr Dale." + +"My mother, Madame, used to accuse me of a trick of keeping them +half-shut." + +"Your mother had not seen you at Court, sir." + +"True, Madame, nor had my eyes beheld your Royal Highness." + +She laughed, pleased with a compliment which was well in the mode then, +though my sons may ridicule it; but as she turned away she added, + +"I shall not be with you to-night, and M. de Perrencourt hates a staring +eye." + +I was warned and I was grateful. But there I stopped. Since Heaven had +given me my eyes, nothing on earth could prevent them opening when +matter worth the looking was presented. And perhaps they might be open, +and yet seem shut to M. de Perrencourt. With a final salute to the +exalted company I went out; as I went they resumed their places at the +table, M. de Perrencourt saying, "Come, let us finish. I must be away +before dawn." + +I returned to my quarters in no small turmoil; yet my head, though it +still ached sorely from the effect of tasting that draught so +fortunately dashed from my hand, was clear enough, and I could put +together all the pieces of the puzzle save one. But that one chanced to +be of some moment to me, for it was myself. The business with the King +which had brought M. de Perrencourt so stealthily to Dover was finished, +or was even now being accomplished; his presence and authority had +reinforced Madame's persuasions, and the treaty was made. But in these +high affairs I had no place. If I would find my work I must look +elsewhere, to the struggle that had arisen between M. de Perrencourt and +his Grace the Duke of Monmouth, in which the stakes were not wars or +religions, and the quarrel of simpler nature. In that fight Louis (for I +did not trouble to maintain his disguise in my thoughts) had won, as he +was certain to win if he put forth his strength. My heart was sore for +Mistress Barbara. I knew that she was to be the spoil of the French +King's victory, and that the loss to the beauty of his Court caused by +the departure of Mlle. de Quérouaille was to find compensation. But, +still, where was my part? I saw only one thing: that Louis had taken a +liking for me, and might well choose me as his instrument, if an +instrument were needed. But for what and where it was needed I could not +conceive; since all France was under his feet, and a thousand men would +spring up to do his bidding at a word--aye, let the bidding be what it +might, and the task as disgraceful as you will. What were the qualities +in me or in my condition that dictated his choice baffled conjecture. + +Suddenly came a low knock on the door. I opened it and a man slipped in +quickly and covertly. To my amazement, I saw Carford. He had kept much +out of sight lately; I supposed that he had discovered all he wanted +from Monmouth's ready confidence, and had carried his ill-won gains to +his paymaster. But supposing that he would keep up the comedy I said +stiffly, + +"You come to me from the Duke of Monmouth, my lord?" + +He was in no mood for pretence to-night. He was in a state of great +excitement, and, brushing aside all reserve, made at once for the point. + +"I am come," said he, "to speak a word with you. In an hour you're to +sail for France?" + +"Yes," said I. "Those are the King's orders." + +"But in an hour you could be so far from here that he with whom you go +could not wait for your return." + +"Well, my lord?" + +"To be brief, what's your price to fly and not to sail?" + +We were standing, facing one another. I answered him slowly, trying to +catch his purpose. + +"Why are you willing to pay me a price?" said I. "For it's you who +pays?" + +"Yes, I pay. Come, man, you know why you go and who goes with you?" + +"M. de Perrencourt and M. Colbert go," said I. "Why I go, I don't know." + +"Nor who else goes?" he asked, looking in my eyes. I paused for a moment +and then answered, + +"Yes, she goes." + +"And you know for what purpose?" + +"I can guess the purpose." + +"Well, I want to go in your place. I have done with that fool Monmouth, +and the French King would suit me well for a master." + +"Then ask him to take you also." + +"He will not; he'll rather take you." + +"Then I'll go," said I. + +He drew a step nearer to me. I watched him closely, for, on my life, I +did not know in what mood he was, and his honour was ill to lean on as a +waving reed. + +"What will you gain by going?" he asked. "And if you fly he will take +me. Somebody he must take." + +"Is not M. Colbert enough?" + +He looked at me suspiciously, as though he thought that I assumed +ignorance. + +"You know very well that Colbert wouldn't serve his purpose." + +"By my faith," I cried, "I don't know what his purpose is." + +"You swear it?" he asked in distrust and amazement. + +"Most willingly," I answered. "It is simple truth." + +He gazed at me still as though but half-convinced. + +"Then what's your purpose in going?" he asked. + +"I obey my orders. Yet I have a purpose, and one I had rather trust with +myself than with you, my lord." + +"Pray, sir, what is it?" + +"To serve and guard the lady who goes also." + +After a moment of seeming surprise, he broke into a sneering laugh. + +"You go to guard her?" he said. + +"Her and her honour," I answered steadily. "And I do not desire to +resign that task into your hands, my lord." + +"What will you do? How will you serve her?" he asked. + +A sudden suspicion of him seized me. His manner had changed to a forced +urbanity; when he was civil he was treacherous. + +"That's my secret, my lord," I answered. "I have preparations to make. I +pray you, give me leave." I opened the door and held it for him. + +His rage mastered him; he grew red and the veins swelled on his +forehead. + +"By heaven, you shan't go," he cried, and clapped his hand to his sword. + +"Who says that Mr Dale shall not go?" + +A man stood in the doorway, plainly attired, wearing boots, and a cloak +that half-hid his face. Yet I knew him, and Carford knew him. Carford +shrank back, I bowed, and we both bared our heads. M. de Perrencourt +advanced into the room, fixing his eyes on Carford. + +"My lord," he said, "when I decline a gentleman's services I am not to +be forced into accepting them, and when I say a gentleman shall go with +me he goes. Have you a quarrel with me on that account?" + +Carford found no words in which to answer him, but his eyes told that he +would have given the world to draw his sword against M. de Perrencourt, +or, indeed, against the pair of us. A gesture of the newcomer's arm +motioned him to the door. But he had one sentence more to hear before he +was suffered to slink away. + +"Kings, my lord," said M. de Perrencourt, "may be compelled to set spies +about the persons of others. They do not need them about their own." + +Carford turned suddenly white, and his teeth set. I thought that he +would fly at the man who rebuked him so scornfully; but such an outbreak +meant death; he controlled himself. He passed out, and Louis, with a +careless laugh, seated himself on my bed. I stood respectfully opposite +to him. + +"Make your preparations," said he. "In half an hour's time we depart." + +I obeyed him, setting about the task of filling my saddle-bags with my +few possessions. He watched me in silence for awhile. At last he spoke. + +"I have chosen you to go with me," he said, "because although you know a +thing, you don't speak of it, and although you see a thing, you can +appear blind." + +I remembered that Madame thought my blindness deficient, but I received +the compliment in silence. + +"These great qualities," he pursued, "make a man's fortune. You shall +come with me to Paris." + +"To Paris, sir?" + +"Yes. I'll find work for you there, and those who do my work lack +neither reward nor honour. Come, sir, am I not as good a King to serve +as another?" + +"Your Majesty is the greatest Prince in Christendom," said I. For such +indeed all the world held him. + +"Yet even the greatest Prince in Christendom fears some things," said +he, smiling. + +"Surely nothing, sir?" + +"Why, yes. A woman's tongue, a woman's tears, a woman's rage, a woman's +jealousy; I say, Mr Dale, a woman's jealousy." + +It was well that my preparations were done, or they had never been done. +I was staring at him now with my hands dropped to my side. + +"I am married," he pursued. "That is little." And he shrugged his +shoulders. + +"Little enough at Courts, in all conscience," thought I; perhaps my face +betrayed something of the thought, for King Louis smiled. + +"But I am more than a husband," he pursued. "I am a lover, Mr Dale." + +Not knowing what comment to make on this, I made none. I had heard the +talk about his infatuation, but it was not for me to mention the lady's +name. Nor did the King name her. He rose and approached me, looking full +in my face. + +"You are neither a husband nor a lover?" he asked. + +"Neither, sir." + +"You know Mistress Quinton?" + +"Yes, sir." + +He was close to me now, and he whispered to me as he had whispered to +the King in the Council Chamber. + +"With my favour and such a lady for his wife, a gentleman might climb +high." + +I heard the words, and I could not repress a start. At last the puzzle +was pieced, and my part plain. I knew now the work I was to do, the +price of the reward I was to gain. Had he said it a month before, when I +was not yet trained to self-control and concealment, King as he was, I +would have drawn my sword on him. For good or evil dissimulation is soon +learnt. With a great effort I repressed my agitation and hid my +disgust. King Louis smiled at me, deeming what he had suggested no +insult. + +"Your wedding shall take place at Calais," he said; and I (I wonder now +to think of it) bowed and smiled. + +"Be ready in a quarter of an hour," said he, and left me with a gracious +smile. + +I stood there where I was for the best part of the time still left to +me. I saw why Carford desired the mission on which I went, why Madame +bade me practise the closing of my eyes, how my fortune was to come from +the hand of King Louis. An English gentleman and his wife would travel +back with the King; the King would give his favour to both; and the lady +was Barbara Quinton. + +I turned at last, and made my final preparation. It was simple; I loaded +my pistol and hid it about me, and I buckled on my sword, seeing that it +moved easily in the sheath. By fortune's will, I had to redeem the +pledge which I had given to my lord; his daughter's honour now knew no +safety but in my arm and wits. Alas, how slender the chance was, and how +great the odds! + +Then a sudden fear came upon me. I had lived of late in a Court where +honour seemed dead, and women, no less than men, gave everything for +wealth or place. I had seen nothing of her, no word had come from her to +me. She had scorned Monmouth, but might she not be won to smile on M. de +Perrencourt? I drove the thought from me, but it came again and again, +shaming me and yet fastening on me. She went with M. de Perrencourt; did +she go willingly? + +With that thought beating in my brain, I stepped forth to my adventure. + + + + +CHAPTER XVI + +M. DE PERRENCOURT WONDERS + + +As I walked briskly from my quarters down to the sea, M. de +Perrencourt's last whisper, "With my favour and such a lady for his +wife, a gentleman might climb high," echoed in my ears so loudly and +insistently as to smother all thought of what had passed in the Council +Chamber, and to make of no moment for me the plots and plans alike of +Kings, Catholics, and Ranters. That night I cared little though the King +had signed away the liberties of our religion and his realm; I spared no +more than a passing wonder for the attempt to which conscience run mad +had urged Phineas Tate, and in which he in his turn had involved my +simpleton of a servant. Let them all plot and plan; the issue lay in +God's hand, above my knowledge and beyond my power. My task was enough, +and more than enough, for my weakness; to it I turned, with no fixed +design and no lively hope, with a prayer for success only, and a resolve +not to be King Louis' catspaw. A month ago I might have marvelled that +he offered such a part to any gentleman; the illusions of youth and +ignorance were melting fast; now I was left to ask why he had selected +one so humble for a place that great men held in those days with open +profit and without open shame; aye, and have held since. For although I +have lived to call myself a Whig, I do not hold that the devil left +England for good and all with the House of Stuart. + +We were on the quay now, and the little ship lay ready for us. A very +light breeze blew off the land, enough to carry us over if it held, but +promising a long passage; the weather was damp and misty. M. Colbert had +shrugged his shoulders over the prospect of a fog; his master would hear +of no delay, and the King had sent for Thomas Lie, a famous pilot of the +Cinque Ports, to go with us till the French coast should be sighted. The +two Kings were walking up and down together in eager and engrossed +conversation. Looking about, I perceived the figures of two women +standing near the edge of the water. I saw Colbert approach them and +enter into conversation; soon he came to me, and with the smoothest of +smiles bade me charge myself with the care of Mistress Quinton. + +"Madame," said he, "has sent a discreet and trustworthy waiting-woman +with her, but a lady needs a squire, and we are still hampered by +business." With which he went off to join his master, bestowing another +significant smile on me. + +I lost no time in approaching Barbara. The woman with her was stout and +short, having a broad hard face; she stood by her charge square and +sturdy as a soldier on guard. Barbara acknowledged my salutation +stiffly; she was pale and seemed anxious, but in no great distress or +horror. But did she know what was planned for her or the part I was to +play? The first words she spoke showed me that she knew nothing, for +when I began to feel my way, saying: "The wind is fair for us," she +started, crying: "For us? Why, are you coming with us?" + +I glanced at the waiting-woman, who stood stolidly by. + +"She understands no English," said Barbara, catching my meaning. "You +can speak freely. Why are you coming?" + +"Nay, but why are you going?" + +She answered me with a touch of defiance in her voice. + +"The Duchess of York is to return with Madame on a visit to the French +Court, and I go to prepare for her coming." + +So this was the story by which they were inducing her to trust herself +in their hands. Doubtless they might have forced her, but deceit +furnished a better way. Yet agitation had mingled with defiance in her +voice. In an instant she went on: + +"You are coming, in truth are you? Don't jest with me." + +"Indeed I'm coming, madame. I hope my company is to your liking?" + +"But why, why?" + +"M. de Perrencourt has one answer to that question and I another." + +Her eyes questioned me, but she did not put her question into words. +With a little shiver she said: + +"I am glad to be quit of this place." + +"You're right in that," I answered gravely. + +Her cheek flushed, and her eyes fell to the ground. + +"Yes," she murmured. + +"But Dover Castle is not the only place where danger lies," said I. + +"Madame has sworn----" she began impetuously. + +"And M. de Perrencourt?" I interrupted. + +"He--he gave his word to his sister," she said in a very low voice. Then +she stretched her hand out towards me, whispering, "Simon, Simon!" + +I interpreted the appeal, although it was but an inarticulate cry, +witnessing to a fear of dangers unknown. The woman had edged a little +away, but still kept a careful watch. I paid no heed to her. I must give +my warning. + +"My services are always at your disposal, Mistress Barbara," said I, +"even without the right to them that M. de Perrencourt purposes to give +you." + +"I don't understand. How can he--Why, you wouldn't enter my service?" + +She laughed a little as she made this suggestion, but there was an +eagerness in her voice; my heart answered to it, for I saw that she +found comfort in the thought of my company. + +"M. de Perrencourt," said I, "purposes that I should enter your service, +and his also." + +"Mine and his?" she murmured, puzzled and alarmed. + +I did not know how to tell her; I was ashamed. But the last moments +fled, and she must know before we were at sea. + +"Yonder where we're going," I said, "the word of M. de Perrencourt is +law and his pleasure right." + +She took alarm, and her voice trembled. + +"He has promised--Madame told me," she stammered. "Ah, Simon, must I go? +Yet I should be worse here." + +"You must go. What can we do here? I go willingly." + +"For what?" + +"To serve you, if it be in my power. Will you listen?" + +"Quick, quick. Tell me!" + +"Of all that he swore, he will observe nothing. Hush, don't cry out. +Nothing." + +I feared that she would fall, for she reeled where she stood. I dared +not support her. + +"If he asks a strange thing, agree to it. It's the only way." + +"What? What will he ask?" + +"He will propose a husband to you." + +She tore at the lace wrapping about her throat as though it were +choking her; her eyes were fixed on mine. I answered her gaze with a +steady regard, and her cheek grew red with a hot blush. + +"His motive you may guess," said I. "There is convenience in a husband." + +I had put it at last plainly enough, and when I had said it I averted my +eyes from hers. + +"I won't go," I heard her gasp. "I'll throw myself at the King's feet." + +"He'll make a clever jest on you," said I bitterly. + +"I'll implore M. de Perrencourt----" + +"His answer will be--polite." + +For a while there was silence. Then she spoke again in a low whisper; +her voice now sounded hard and cold, and she stood rigid. + +"Who is the man?" she asked. Then she broke into a sudden passion, and, +forgetting caution, seized me by the arm, whispering, "Have you your +sword?" + +"Aye, it is here." + +"Will you use it for me?" + +"At your bidding." + +"Then use it on the body of the man." + +"I'm the man," said I. + +"You, Simon!" + +Now what a poor thing is this writing, and how small a fragment of truth +can it hold! "You, Simon!" The words are nothing, but they came from her +lips full-charged with wonder, most incredulous, yet coloured with +sudden hope of deliverance. She doubted, yet she caught at the strange +chance. Nay, there was more still, but what I could not tell; for her +eyes lit up with a sudden sparkle, which shone a brief moment and then +was screened by drooping lids. + +"That is why I go," said I. "With M. de Perrencourt's favour and such a +lady for my wife I might climb high. So whispered M. de Perrencourt +himself." + +"You!" she murmured again; and again her cheek was red. + +"We must not reach Calais, if we can escape by the way. Be near me +always on the ship, fortune may give us a chance. And if we come to +Calais, be near me, while you can." + +"But if we can't escape?" + +I was puzzled by her. It must be that she found in my company new hope +of escape. Hence came the light in her eyes, and the agitation which +seemed to show excitement rather than fear. But I had no answer to her +question, "If we can't escape?" + +Had I been ready with fifty answers, time would have failed for one. M. +Colbert called to me. The King was embracing his guest for the last +time; the sails were spread; Thomas Lie was at the helm. I hastened to +obey M. Colbert's summons. He pointed to the King; going forward, I +knelt and kissed the hand extended to me. Then I rose and stood for a +moment, in case it should be the King's pleasure to address me. M. de +Perrencourt was by his side. + +The King's face wore a smile and the smile broadened as he spoke to me. + +"You're a wilful man, Mr Dale," said he, "but fortune is more wilful +still. You would not woo her, therefore woman-like she loves you. You +were stubborn, but she is resolute to overcome your stubbornness. But +don't try her too far. She stands waiting for you open-armed. Isn't it +so, my brother?" + +"Your Majesty speaks no more than truth," answered M. de Perrencourt. + +"Will you accept her embraces?" asked the King. + +I bowed very low and raised my head with a cheerful and gay smile. + +"Most willingly," I answered. + +"And what of reservations, Mr. Dale?" + +"May it please your Majesty, they do not hold across the water." + +"Good. My brother is more fortunate than I. God be with you, Mr Dale." + +At that I smiled again. And the King smiled. My errand was a strange one +to earn a benediction. + +"Be off with you," he said with an impatient laugh. "A man must pick his +words in talking with you." A gesture of his hand dismissed me. I went +on board and watched him standing on the quay as Thomas Lie steered us +out of harbour and laid us so as to catch the wind. As we moved, the +King turned and began to mount the hill. + +We moved, but slowly. For an hour we made way. All this while I was +alone on deck, except for the crew and Thomas Lie. The rest had gone +below; I had offered to follow, but a gesture from M. Colbert sent me +back. The sense of helplessness was on me, overwhelming and bitter. When +the time came for my part I should be sent for, until then none had need +of me. I could guess well enough what was passing below, and I found no +comfort in the knowledge of it. Up and down I walked quickly, as a man +torn and tormented with thoughts that his steps, however hasty, cannot +outstrip. The crew stared at me, the pilot himself spared a glance of +amused wonder at the man who strode to and fro so restlessly. Once I +paused at the stern of the ship, where Lie's boat, towed behind us, cut +through the water as a diamond cuts a pane of glass. For an instant I +thought of leaping in and making a bid for liberty alone. The strange +tone in which "You, Simon!" had struck home to my heart forbade me. But +I was sick with the world, and turned from the boat to gaze over the +sea. There is a power in the quiet water by night; it draws a man with a +promise of peace in the soft lap of forgetfulness. So strong is the +allurement that, though I count myself sane and of sound mind, I do not +love to look too long on the bosom of deep waters when the night is +full; for the doubt comes then whether to live is sanity and not rather +to die and have an end of the tossing of life and the unresting +dissatisfaction of our state. That night the impulse came on me +mightily, and I fought it, forcing myself to look, refusing the weakness +of flight from the seductive siren. For I was fenced round with troubles +and of a sore heart: there lay the open country and a heart at peace. + +Suddenly I gave a low exclamation; the water, which had fled from us as +we moved, seeming glad to pass us by and rush again on its race +undisturbed, stood still. From the swill came quiet, out of the shimmer +a mirror disentangled itself, and lay there on the sea, smooth and +bright. But it grew dull in an instant; I heard the sails flap, but saw +them no more. A dense white vapour settled on us, the length of my arm +bounded my sight, all movement ceased, and we lay on the water, inert +and idle. I leant beside the gunwale, feeling the fog moist on my face, +seeing in its baffling folds a type of the toils that bound and fettered +me. Now voices rose round me, and again fell; the crew questioned, the +captain urged; I heard Colbert's voice as he hurried on deck. The +sufficient answer was all around us; where the mist was there could be +no wind; in grumbling the voices died away. + +The rest of what passed seems even now a strange dream that I can hardly +follow, whose issue alone I know, which I can recover only dimly and +vaguely in my memory. I was there in the stern, leaning over, listening +to the soft sound of the sea as Thomas Lie's boat rolled lazily from +side to side and the water murmured gently under the gentle stroke. Then +came voices again just by my shoulder. I did not move. I knew the tones +that spoke, the persuasive commanding tones hard to resist, apt to +compel. Slowly I turned myself round; the speakers must be within eight +or ten feet of me, but I could not see them. Still they came nearer. +Then I heard the sound of a sob, and at it sprang to rigidity, poised on +ready feet, with my hand on the hilt of my sword. + +"You're weary now," said the smooth strong voice. "We will talk again in +the morning. From my heart I grieve to have distressed you. Come, we'll +find the gentleman whom you desire to speak with, and I'll trouble you +no more. Indeed I count myself fortunate in having asked my good brother +for one whose company is agreeable to you. For your sake, your friend +shall be mine. Come, I'll take you to him, and then leave you." + +Barbara's sobs ceased; I did not wonder that his persuasions won her to +repose and almost to trust. It seemed that the mist grew a little less +thick; I saw their figures. Knowing that at the same moment I must +myself be seen, I spoke on the instant. + +"I am here, at Mistress Quinton's service." + +M. de Perrencourt (to call him still by his chosen name) came forward +and groped his way to my arm, whispering in French, + +"All is easy. Be gentle with her. Why, she turns to you of her own +accord! All will go smoothly." + +"You may be sure of it, sir," I said. "Will you leave her with me?" + +"Yes," he answered. "I can trust you, can't I?" + +"I may be trusted to death," I answered, smiling behind the mist's kind +screen. + +Barbara was by his side now; with a bow he drew back. I traced him as he +went towards where Lie stood, and I heard a murmur of voices as he and +the helmsman spoke to one another. Then I heard no more, and lost sight +of him in the thick close darkness. I put out my hand and felt for +Barbara's; it came straight to mine. + +"You--you'll stay with me?" she murmured. "I'm frightened, Simon." + +As she spoke, I felt on my cheek the cold breath of the wind. Turning my +full face, I felt it more. The breeze was rising, the sails flapped +again, Thomas Lie's boat buffeted the waves with a quicker beat. When I +looked towards her, I saw her face, framed in mist, pale and wet with +tears, beseeching me. There at that moment, born in danger and nursed by +her helplessness, there came to me a new feeling, that was yet an old +one; now I knew that I would not leave her. Nay, for an instant I was +tempted to abandon all effort and drift on to the French shore, looking +there to play my own game, despite of her and despite of King Louis +himself. But the risk was too desperate. + +"No, I won't leave you," I said in low tones that trembled under the +fresh burden which they bore. + +But yes, the wind rose, the mist began to lift, the water was running +lazily from under our keel, the little boat bobbed and danced to a +leisurely tune. + +"The wind serves," cried Thomas Lie. "We shall make land in two hours if +it hold as it blows now." + +The plan was in my head. It was such an impulse as coming to a man seems +revelation and forbids all questioning of its authority. I held Barbara +still by the hand, and drew her to me. There, leaning over the gunwale, +we saw Thomas Lie's boat moving after us. His sculls lay ready. I looked +in her eyes, and was answered with wonder, perplexity, and dawning +intelligence. + +"I daren't let him carry you to Calais," I whispered; "we should be +helpless there." + +"But you--it's you." + +"As his tool and his fool," I muttered. Low as I spoke, she heard me, +and asked despairingly: + +"What then, Simon? What can we do?" + +"If I go there, will you jump into my arms? The distance isn't far." + +"Into the boat! Into your arms in the boat?" + +"Yes. I can hold you. There's a chance if we go now--now, before the +mist lifts more." + +"If we're seen?" + +"We're no worse off." + +"Yes, I'll jump, Simon." + +We were moving now briskly enough, though the wind came in fitful gusts +and with no steady blast, and the mist now lifted, now again swathed us +in close folds. I gripped Barbara's hand, whispering, "Be ready," and, +throwing one leg over the side, followed with the other, and dropped +gently into Thomas Lie's boat. It swayed under me, but it was broad in +the beam and rode high in the water; no harm happened. Then I stood +square in the bows and whispered "Now!" For the beating of my heart I +scarcely heard my own voice, but I spoke louder than I knew. At the same +instant that Barbara sprang into my arms, there was a rush of feet +across the deck, an oath rang loud in French, and another figure +appeared on the gunwale, with one leg thrown over. Barbara was in my +arms. I felt her trembling body cling to mine, but I disengaged her +grasp quickly and roughly--for gentleness asks time, and time had we +none--and set her down in the boat. Then I turned to the figure above +me. A momentary glance showed me the face of King Louis. I paid no more +heed, but drew my knife and flung myself on the rope that bound the boat +to the ship. + +Then the breeze dropped, and the fog fell thick and enveloping. My knife +was on the rope and I severed the strands with desperate strength. One +by one I felt them go. As the last went I raised my head. From the ship +above me flashed the fire of a pistol, and a ball whistled by my ear. +Wild with excitement, I laughed derisively. The last strand was gone, +slowly the ship forged ahead; but then the man on the gunwale gathered +himself together and sprang across the water between us. He came full on +the top of me, and we fell together on the floor of the boat. By the +narrowest chance we escaped foundering, but the sturdy boat proved true. +I clutched my assailant with all my strength, pinning him arm to arm, +breast to breast, shoulder to shoulder. His breath was hot on my face. I +gasped "Row, row." From the ship came a sudden alarmed cry: "The boat, +the boat!" But already the ship grew dim and indistinct. + +"Row, row," I muttered; then I heard the sculls set in their tholes, and +with a slow faltering stroke the boat was guided away from the ship, +moving nearly at a right angle to it. I put out all my strength. I was +by far a bigger man than the King, and I did not spare him. I hugged him +with a bear's hug, and his strength was squeezed out of him. Now I was +on the top and he below. I twisted his pistol from his hand and flung it +overboard. Tumultuous cries came from the blurred mass that was the +ship; but the breeze had fallen, the fog was thick, they had no other +boat. The King lay still. "Give me the sculls," I whispered. Barbara +yielded them; her hands were cold as death when they encountered mine. +She scrambled into the stern. I dragged the King back--he was like a +log now--till he lay with the middle of his body under the seat on which +I sat; his face looked up from between my feet. Then I fell to rowing, +choosing no course except that our way should be from the ship, and +ready, at any movement of the still form below me, to drop my sculls and +set my pistol at his head. Yet till that need came I bent lustily to my +work, and when I looked over the sea the ship was not to be seen, but +all around hung the white vapour, the friendly accomplice of my +enterprise. + +That leap of his was a gallant thing. He knew that I was his master in +strength, and that I stood where no motive of prudence could reach and +no fear restrain me. If I were caught, the grave or a French prison +would be my fate; to get clear off, he might suppose that I should count +even the most august life in Christendom well taken. Yet he had leapt, +and, before heaven, I feared that I had killed him. If it were so, I +must set Barbara in safety, and then follow him where he was gone; there +would be no place for me among living men, and I had better choose my +own end than be hunted to death like a mad dog. These thoughts spun +through my brain as my arms drove the blades into the water, on an +aimless course through the mist, till the mass of the ship utterly +disappeared, and we three were alone on the sea. Then the fear overcame +me. I rested on my oars, and leaning over to where Barbara sat in the +stern, I shaped with awe-struck lips the question--"Is he dead? My God, +is he dead?" + +She sat there, herself, as it seemed, half-dead. But at my words she +shivered and with an effort mastered her relaxed limbs. Slowly she +dropped on her knees by the King and raised his head in her arms. She +felt in her bosom and drew out a flask of salts, which she set to his +nostrils. I watched his face; the muscles of it contracted into a +grimace, then were smoothed again to calmness; he opened his eyes. +"Thank God," I muttered to myself; and the peril to him being gone by, I +remembered our danger, and taking out my pistol looked to it, and sat +dangling it in my hand. + +Barbara, still supporting the King's head, looked up at me. + +"What will become of us?" she asked. + +"At least we shan't be married in Calais," I answered with a grim smile. + +"No," she murmured, and bent again over the King. + +Now his eyes were wide-opened, and I fixed mine on them. I saw the +return of consciousness and intelligence; the quick glance that fell on +me, on the oars, on the pistol in my hand, witnessed to it. Then he +raised himself on his elbow, Barbara drawing quickly away, and so rested +an instant, regarding me still. He drew himself up into a sitting +posture, and seemed as though he would rise to his feet. I raised the +pistol and pointed it at him. + +"No higher, if you please," said I. "It's a matter of danger to walk +about in so small a boat, and you came near to upsetting us before." + +He turned his head and saw Barbara, then gazed round on the sea. No sail +was to be seen, and the fog still screened the boat in impenetrable +solitude. The sight brought to his mind a conviction of what his plight +was. Yet no dismay nor fear showed in his face. He sat there, regarding +me with an earnest curiosity. At last he spoke. + +"You were deluding me all the time?" he asked. + +"Even so," said I, with an inclination of my head. + +"You did not mean to take my offer?" + +"Since I am a gentleman, I did not." + +"I also am accounted a gentleman, sir." + +"Nay, I took you for a prince," said I. + +He made me no answer, but, looking round him again, observed: + +"The ship must be near. But for this cursed fog she would be in sight." + +"It's well for us she isn't," I said. + +"Why, sir?" he asked brusquely. + +"If she were, there's the pistol for the lady, and this sword here for +you and me," said I coolly. For a man may contrive to speak coolly, +though his bearing be a lie and his heart beat quick. + +"You daren't," he cried in amazement. + +"I should be unwilling," I conceded. + +For an instant there was silence. Then came Barbara's voice, soft and +fearful: + +"Simon, the fog lifts." + +It was true. The breeze blew and the fog lifted. Louis' eyes sparkled. +All three of us, by one impulse, looked round on the sea. The fresh wind +struck my cheek, and the enveloping folds curled lazily away. Barbara +held up her hand and pointed. Away on the right, dimly visible, just +detached from the remaining clouds of mist, was a dark object, sitting +high on the water. A ship it was, in all likelihood the king's ship. We +should be sighted soon. My eyes met the King's and his were exultant and +joyful; he did not yet believe that I would do what I had said, and he +thought that the trap closed on us again. For still the mist rose, and +in a few moments they on the ship must see us. + +"You shall pay for your trick," he said between his teeth. + +"It is very likely," said I. "But I think that the debt will be paid to +your Majesty's successor." + +Still he did not believe. I burst into a laugh of grim amusement. These +great folk find it hard to understand how sometimes their greatness is +nothing, and the thing is man to man; but now and then fortune takes a +whim and teaches them the lesson for her sport. + +"But since you are a King," said I, "you shall have your privilege. You +shall pass out before the lady. See, the ship is very plain now. Soon we +shall be plain to the ship. Come, sir, you go first." + +He looked at me, now puzzled and alarmed. + +"I am unarmed," he said. + +"It is no fight," I answered. Then I turned to Barbara. "Go and sit in +the stern," I said, "and cover your face with your hands." + +"Simon, Simon," she moaned, but she obeyed me, and threw herself down, +burying her face in her hands. I turned to the king. + +"How will you die, sir?" said I quietly, and, as I believe, in a civil +manner. + +A sudden shout rang in my ears. I would not look away from him, lest he +should spring on me or fling himself from the boat. But I knew whence +the shout came, for it was charged with joy and the relief of unbearable +anxiety. The ship was the King's ship and his servants had seen their +master. Yet they would not dare to fire without his orders, and with the +risk of killing him; therefore I was easy concerning musket shot. But we +must not come near enough for a voice to be heard from us, and a pistol +to carry to us. + +"How will you die?" I asked again. His eyes questioned me. I added, "As +God lives I will." And I smiled at him. + + + + +CHAPTER XVII + +WHAT BEFELL MY LAST GUINEA + + +There is this in great station, that it imparts to a man a bearing +sedate in good times and debonair in evil. A king may be unkinged, as +befell him whom in my youth we called the Royal Martyr, but he need not +be unmanned. He has tasted of what men count the best, and, having found +even in it much bitterness, turns to greet fortune's new caprice smiling +or unmoved. Thus it falls out that though princes live no better lives +than common men, yet for the most part they die more noble deaths; their +sunset paints all their sky, and we remember not how they bore their +glorious burden, but with what grace they laid it down. Much is forgiven +to him who dies becomingly, and on earth, as in heaven, there is pardon +for the parting soul. Are we to reject what we are taught that God +receives? I have need enough of forgiveness to espouse the softer +argument. + +Now King Louis, surnamed the Great, having more matters in his head than +the scheme I thought to baffle, and (to say truth) more ladies in his +heart than Barbara Quinton, was not minded to die for the one or the +other. But had you been there (which Heaven for your sake forbid, I have +passed many a pleasanter night), you would have sworn that death or life +weighed not a straw in the balance with him, and that he had no thought +save of the destiny God had marked for him and the realm that called him +master. So lofty and serene he was, when he perceived my resolution and +saw my pistol at his head. On my faith, the victory was mine, but he +robbed me of my triumph, and he, submitting, seemed to put terms on me +who held him at my mercy. It is all a trick, no doubt; they get it in +childhood, as (I mean no harm by my comparisons) the beggar's child +learns to whine or the thief's to pick. Yet it is pretty. I wish I had +it. + +"In truth," said he with a smile that had not a trace of wryness, "I +have chosen my means ill for this one time, though they say that I +choose well. Well, God rules the world." + +"By deputy, sir," said I. + +"And deputies don't do His will always? Come, Mr Dale, for this hour you +hold the post and fill it well. Wear this for my sake"; and he handed +across to me a dagger with a handle richly wrought and studded with +precious stones. + +I bowed low; yet I kept my finger on the trigger. + +"Man, I give you my word, though not in words," said he, and I, rebuked, +set my weapon back in its place. "Alas, for a sad moment!" he cried. "I +must bid farewell to Mistress Barbara. Yet (this he added, turning to +her) life is long, madame, and has many changes. I pray you may never +need friends, but should you, there is one ready so long as Louis is +King of France. Call on him by the token of his ring and count him your +humble servant." With this he stripped his finger of a fine brilliant, +and, sinking on his knee in the boat, took her hand very delicately, +and, having set the ring on her finger, kissed her hand, sighed lightly +yet gallantly, and rose with his eyes set on the ship. + +"Row me to her," he commanded me, shortly but not uncivilly; and I, who +held his life in my hands, sat down obediently and bent to my oars. In +faith, I wish I had that air, it's worth a fortune to a man! + +Soon we came to the side of the ship. Over it looked the face of +Colbert, amazed that I had stolen his King, and the face of Thomas Lie, +indignant that I had made free with his boat; by them were two or three +of the crew agape with wonder. King Louis paid no respect to their +feelings and stayed their exclamations with a gesture of his hand. He +turned to me, saying in low tones and with a smile, + +"You must make your own terms with my brother, sir. It has been hard +fighting between us, and I am in no mood for generosity." + +I did not know what to answer him, but I stammered: + +"I ask nothing but that your Majesty should remember me as an honest +man." + +"And a brave gentleman," he added gravely, with a slight inclination of +his head. Then he turned to Barbara and took her hand again, bowing low +and saying, "Madame, I had meant you much good in my heart, and my state +forced me to mean you some evil. I pray you remember the one and forget +the other." He kissed her hand again with a fine grace. It was a fair +sounding apology for a thing beyond defence. I admired while I smiled. + +But Barbara did not smile. She looked up in his face, then dropped on +her knees in the boat and caught his hand, kissing it twice and trying +to speak to him. He stood looking down on her; then he said softly, "Yet +I have forgiven your friend," and gently drew his hand away. I stood up, +baring my head. He faced round on me and said abruptly, "This affair is +between you and me, sir." + +"I am obedient to a command I did not need," said I. + +"Your pardon. Cover your head. I do not value outward signs of respect +where the will is wanting. Fare you well." + +At a sign from him Colbert stretched out a hand. Not a question, not a +word, scarcely now a show of wonder came from any, save honest Lie, +whose eyes stood out of his head and whose tongue was still only because +it could not speak. The King leapt lightly on the deck of his ship. + +"You'll be paid for the boat," I heard him say to Lie. "Make all sail +for Calais." + +None spoke to him, none questioned him. He saw no need for explanation +and accorded no enlightenment. I marvelled that fear or respect for any +man could so bind their tongues. The King waved them away; Lie alone +hesitated, but Colbert caught him by the arm and drew him off to the +helm. The course was given, and the ship forged ahead. The King stood in +the stern. Now he raised his hat from his head and bowed low to Mistress +Barbara. I turned to see how she took the salutation; but her face was +downcast, resting on her hands. I stood and lifted my hat; then I sat +down to the oars. I saw King Louis' set courtly smile, and as our ways +parted asunder, his to France, where he ruled, mine to England where I +prayed nothing but a hiding-place, we sent into one another's eyes a +long look as of men who have measured strength, and part each in his own +pride, each in respect for the powers of his enemy. In truth it was +something to have played a winning hand with the Most Christian King. +With regret I watched him go; though I could not serve him in his +affairs of love, I would gladly have fought for him in his wars. + +We were alone now on the sea; dawn was breaking and the sky cleared till +the cliffs were dimly visible behind us. I pulled the boat round, and +set her head for home. Barbara sat in the stern, pale and still, +exhausted by the efforts and emotion of the night. The great peril and +her great salvation left her numb rather than thankful; and in truth, if +she looked into the future, her joy must be dashed with sore +apprehension. M. de Perrencourt was gone, the Duke of Monmouth remained; +till she could reach her father I was her only help, and I dared not +show my face in Dover. But these thoughts were for myself, not for her, +and seeking to cheer her I leant forward and said, + +"Courage, Mistress Barbara." And I added, "At least we shan't be +married, you and I, in Calais." + +She started a little, flushed a little, and answered gravely, + +"We owe Heaven thanks for a great escape, Simon." + +It was true, and the knowledge of its truth had nerved us to the attempt +so marvellously crowned with success. Great was the escape from such a +marriage, made for such purposes as King Louis had planned. Yet some +feeling shot through me, and I gave it voice in saying, + +"Nay, but we might have escaped after the marriage also." + +Barbara made no reply; for it was none to say, "The cliffs grow very +plain." + +"But that wouldn't have served our turn," I added with a laugh. "You +would have come out of the business saddled with a sore encumbrance." + +"Shall you go to Dover?" asked Barbara, seeming to pay no heed to all +that I had been saying. + +"Where God pleases," I answered rather peevishly. "Her head's to the +land, and I'll row straight to land. The land is safer than the sea." + +"No place is safe?" + +"None," I answered. But then, repenting of my surliness, I added, "And +none so perilous that you need fear, Mistress Barbara." + +"I don't fear while you're with me, Simon," said she. "You won't leave +me till we find my father?" + +"Surely not," said I. "Is it your pleasure to seek him?" + +"As speedily as we can," she murmured. "He's in London. Even the King +won't dare to touch me when I'm with him." + +"To London, then!" I said. "Can you make out the coast?" + +"There's a little bay just ahead where the cliff breaks; and I see Dover +Castle away on my left hand." + +"We'll make for the bay," said I, "and then seek means to get to +London." + +Even as I spoke a sudden thought struck me. I laid down my oars and +sought my purse. Barbara was not looking at me, but gazed in a dreamy +fashion towards where the Castle rose on its cliff. I opened the purse; +it held a single guinea; the rest of my store lay with my saddle-bags in +the French King's ship; my head had been too full to think of them. +There is none of life's small matters that so irks a man as to confess +that he has no money for necessary charges, and it is most sore when a +lady looks to him for hers. I, who had praised myself for forgetting how +to blush, went red as a cock's comb and felt fit to cry with +mortification. A guinea would feed us on the road to London if we fared +plainly; but Barbara could not go on her feet. + +Her eyes must have come back to my sullen downcast face, for in a moment +she cried, "What's the matter, Simon?" + +Perhaps she carried money. Well then, I must ask for it. I held out my +guinea in my hand. + +"It's all I have," said I. "King Louis has the rest." + +She gave a little cry of dismay. "I hadn't thought of money," she cried. + +"I must beg of you." + +"Ah, but, Simon, I have none. I gave my purse to the waiting-woman to +carry, so that mine also is in the French King's ship." + +Here was humiliation! Our fine schemes stood blocked for the want of so +vulgar a thing as money; such fate waits often on fine schemes, but +surely never more perversely. Yet, I know not why, I was glad that she +had none. I was a guinea the better of her; the amount was not large, +but it served to keep me still her Providence, and that, I fear, is what +man, in his vanity, loves to be in woman's eyes; he struts and plumes +himself in the pride of it. I had a guinea, and Barbara had nothing. I +had sooner it were so than that she had a hundred. + +But to her came no such subtle consolation. To lack money was a new +horror, untried, undreamt of; the thing had come to her all her days in +such measure as she needed it, its want had never thwarted her desires +or confined her purpose. To lack the price of post-horses seemed to her +as strange as to go fasting for want of bread. + +"What shall we do?" she cried in a dismay greater than all the perils of +the night had summoned to her heart. + +We had about us wealth enough; Louis' dagger was in my belt, his ring on +her finger. Yet of what value were they, since there was nobody to buy +them? To offer such wares in return for a carriage would seem strange +and draw suspicion. I doubted whether even in Dover I should find a Jew +with whom to pledge my dagger, and to Dover in broad day I dared not go. + +I took up my oars and set again to rowing. The shore was but a mile or +two away. The sun shone now and the light was full, the little bay +seemed to smile at me as I turned my head; but all smiles are short for +a man who has but a guinea in his purse. + +"What shall we do?" asked Barbara again. "Is there nobody to whom you +can go, Simon?" + +There seemed nobody. Buckingham I dared not trust, he was in Monmouth's +interest; Darrell had called himself my friend, but he was the servant +of Lord Arlington, and my lord the Secretary was not a man to trust. My +messenger would guide my enemies and my charge be put in danger. + +"Is there nobody, Simon?" she implored. + +There was one, one who would aid me with merry willingness and, had she +means at the moment, with lavish hand. The thought had sprung to my mind +as Barbara spoke. If I could come safely and secretly to a certain house +in a certain alley in the town of Dover, I could have money for the sake +of old acquaintance, and what had once been something more, between her +and me. But would Barbara take largesse from that hand? I am a coward +with women; ignorance is fear's mother and, on my life, I do not know +how they will take this thing or that, with scorn or tears or shame or +what, or again with some surprising turn of softness and (if I may make +bold to say it) a pliability of mind to which few of us men lay claim +and none give honour. But the last mood was not Barbara's, and, as I +looked at her, I dared not tell her where lay my only hope of help in +Dover. I put my wits to work how I could win the aid for her, and keep +the hand a secret. Such deception would sit lightly on my conscience. + +"I am thinking," I replied to her, "whether there is anyone, and how I +might reach him, if there is." + +"Surely there's someone who would serve you and whom you could trust?" +she urged. + +"Would you trust anyone whom I trust?" I asked. + +"In truth, yes." + +"And would you take the service if I would?" + +"Am I so rich that I can choose?" she said piteously. + +"I have your promise to it?" + +"Yes," she answered with no hesitation, nay, with a readiness that made +me ashamed of my stratagem. Yet, as Barbara said, beggars cannot be +choosers even in their stratagems, and, if need were, I must hold her to +her word. + +Now we were at the land and the keel of our boat grated on the shingle. +We disembarked under the shadow of the cliffs at the eastern end of the +bay; all was solitude, save for a little house standing some way back +from the sea, half-way up the cliff, on a level platform cut in the face +of the rock. It seemed a fisherman's cottage; thence might come +breakfast, and for so much our guinea would hold good. There was a +recess in the cliffs, and here I bade Barbara sit and rest herself, +sheltered from view on either side, while I went forward to try my luck +at the cottage. She seemed reluctant to be left, but obeyed me, standing +and watching while I took my way, which I chose cautiously, keeping +myself as much within the shadow as might be. I had sooner not have +ventured this much exposure, but it is ill to face starvation for +safety's sake. + +The cottage lay but a hundred yards off, and soon I approached it. It +was hard on six o'clock now, and I looked to find the inmates up and +stirring. I wondered also whether Monmouth were gone to await Barbara +and myself at the Merry Mariners in Deal; alas, we were too near the +trysting-place! Or had he heard by now that the bird was flown from his +lure and caged by that M. de Perrencourt who had treated him so +cavalierly? I could not tell. Here was the cottage; but I stood still +suddenly, amazed and cautious. For there, in the peaceful morning, in +the sun's kindly light, there lay across the threshold the body of a +man; his eyes, wide-opened, stared at the sky, but seemed to see nothing +of what they gazed at; his brown coat was stained to a dark rusty hue on +the breast, where a gash in the stuff showed the passage of a sword. His +hand clasped a long knife, and his face was known to me. I had seen it +daily at my uprising and lying-down. The body was that of Jonah Wall, in +the flesh my servant, in spirit the slave of Phineas Tate, whose +teaching had brought him to this pass. + +The sight bred in me swift horror and enduring caution. The two Dukes +had been despatched, sorely against their will, in chase of this man. +Was it to their hands that he had yielded up his life and by their doing +that he lay like carrion? It might well be that he had sought refuge in +this cottage, and having found there death, not comfort, had been flung +forth a corpse. I pitied him; although he had been party to a plot which +had well nigh caused my own death and taken no account of my honour, yet +I was sorry for him. He had been about me; I grieved for him as for the +cat on my hearth. Well, now in death he warned me; it was some +recompense; I lifted my hat as I stole by him and slunk round to the +side of the house. There was a window there, or rather a window-frame, +for glass there was none; it stood some six feet from the ground and I +crouched beneath it, for I now heard voices in the cottage. + +"I wish the rascal hadn't fought," said one voice. "But he flew at me +like a tiger, and I had much ado to stop him. I was compelled to run him +through." + +"Yet he might have served me alive," said another. + +"Your Grace is right. For although we hate these foul schemes, the men +had the root of the matter in them." + +"They were no Papists, at least," said the second voice. + +"But the King will be pleased." + +"Oh, a curse on the King, although he's what he is to me! Haven't you +heard? When I returned to the Castle from my search on the other side of +the town, seeking you or Buckingham--by the way, where is he?" + +"Back in his bed, I warrant, sir." + +"The lazy dog! Well then, they told me she was gone with Louis. I rode +on to tell you, for, said I, the King may hunt his conspirators himself +now. But who went with them?" + +"Your Grace will wonder if I say Simon Dale was the man?" + +"The scoundrel! It was he! He has deluded us most handsomely. He was in +Louis' pay, and Louis has a use for him! I'll slit the knave's throat if +I get at him." + +"I pray your Grace's leave to be the first man at him." + +"In truth I'm much obliged to you, my Lord Carford," said I to myself +under the window. + +"There's no use in going to Deal," cried Monmouth. "Oh, I wish I had the +fellow here! She's gone, Carford; God's curse on it, she's gone! The +prettiest wench at Court! Louis has captured her. 'Fore heaven, if only +I were a King!" + +"Heaven has its own times, sir," said Carford insidiously. But the Duke, +suffering from disappointed desire, was not to be led to affairs of +State. + +"She's gone," he exclaimed again. "By God, sooner than lose her, I'd +have married her." + +This speech made me start. She was near him; what if she had been as +near him as I, and had heard those words? A pang shot through me, and, +of its own accord, my hand moved to my sword-hilt. + +"She is beneath your Grace's station. The spouse of your Grace may one +day be----" Carford interrupted himself with a laugh, and added, "What +God wills." + +"So may Anne Hyde," exclaimed the Duke. "But I forget. You yourself had +marked her." + +"I am your Grace's humble servant always," answered Carford smoothly. + +Monmouth laughed. Carford had his pay, no doubt, and I trust it was +large; for he heard quietly a laugh that called him what King Louis had +graciously proposed to make of me. I am glad when men who live by dirty +ways are made to eat dirt. + +"And my father," said the Duke, "is happy. She is gone, Quérouaille +stays; why, he's so enamoured that he has charged Nell to return to +London to-day, or at the latest by to-morrow, lest the French lady's +virtue should be offended." + +At this both laughed, Monmouth at his father, Carford at his King. + +"What's that?" cried the Duke an instant later. + +Now what disturbed him was no other than a most imprudent exclamation +wrung from me by what I heard; it must have reached them faintly, yet it +was enough. I heard their swords rattle and their spurs jingle as they +sprang to their feet. I slipped hastily behind the cottage. But by good +luck at this instant came other steps. As the Duke and Carford ran to +the door, the owner of the cottage (as I judged him to be) walked up, +and Carford cried: + +"Ah, the fisherman! Come, sir, we'll make him show us the nearest way. +Have you fed the horses, fellow?" + +"They have been fed, my lord, and are ready," was the answer. + +I did not hear more speech, but only (to my relief) the tramp of feet as +the three went off together. I stole cautiously out and watched them +heading for the top of the cliff. Jonah Wall lay still where he was, and +when the retreating party were out of sight I did not hesitate to search +his body for money. I had supplied his purse, but now his purse was +emptier than mine. Then I stepped into the cottage, seeking not money +but food. Fortune was kinder here and rewarded me with a pasty, +half-eaten, and a jug of ale. By the side of these lay, left by the Duke +in his wonted profusion, a guinea. The Devil has whimsical ways; I +protest that the temptation I suffered here was among the strongest of +my life! I could repay the fellow some day; two guineas would be by far +more than twice as much as one. Yet I left the pleasant golden thing +there, carrying off only the pasty and the ale; as for the jug--a man +must not stand on nice scruples, and Monmouth's guinea would more than +pay for all. + +I made my way quickly back to Barbara with the poor spoils of my +expedition. I rounded the bluff of cliff that protected her +hiding-place. Again I stood amazed, asking if fortune had more tricks in +her bag for me. The recess was empty. But a moment later I was +reassured; a voice called to me, and I saw her some thirty yards away, +down on the sea-beach. I set down pasty and jug and turned to watch. +Then I perceived what went on; white feet were visible in the shallow +water, twinkling in and out as the tide rolled up and back. + +"I had best employ myself in making breakfast ready," said I, turning my +back. But she called out to me again, saying how delightful was the cool +water. So I looked, and saw her gay and merry. Her hat was in her hand +now, and her hair blew free in the breeze. She had given herself up to +the joy of the moment. I rejoiced in a feeling which I could not share; +the rebound from the strain of the night left me sad and apprehensive. I +sat down and rested my head on my hands, waiting till she came back. +When she came, she would not take the food I offered her, but stood a +moment, looking at me with puzzled eyes, before she seated herself near. + +"You're sad," she said, almost as though in accusation. + +"Could I be otherwise, Mistress Barbara?" I asked. "We're in some +danger, and, what's worse, we've hardly a penny." + +"But we've escaped the greatest peril," she reminded me. + +"True, for the moment." + +"We--you won't be married to-night," she laughed, with rising colour, +and turning away as though a tuft of rank grass by her had caught her +attention and for some hidden reason much deserved it. + +"By God's help we've come out of that snare," said I gravely. + +She said nothing for a moment or two; then she turned to me again, +asking, + +"If your friend furnishes money, can we reach London in two days?" + +"I'm sorry," I answered, "but the journey will need nearer three, unless +we travel at the King's pace or the Duke of Monmouth's." + +"You needn't come all the way with me. Set me safe on the road, and go +where your business calls you." + +"For what crime is this punishment?" I asked with a smile. + +"No, I'm serious. I'm not seeking a compliment from you. I see that +you're sad. You have been very kind to me, Simon. You risked life and +liberty to save me." + +"Well, who could do less? Besides, I had given my promise to my lord +your father." + +She made no reply, and I, desiring to warn her against every danger, +related what had passed at the cottage, omitting only Monmouth's +loudmouthed threats against myself. At last, moved by some impulse of +curiosity rather than anything higher, I repeated how the Duke had said +that, sooner than lose her altogether, he would have married her, and +how my Lord Carford had been still his humble servant in this project as +in any other. She flushed again as she heard me, and plucked her tuft of +grass. + +"Indeed," I ended, "I believe his Grace spoke no more than the truth; +I've never seen a man more in love." + +"And you know well what it is to be in love, don't you?" + +"Very well," I answered calmly, although I thought that the taunt might +have been spared. "Therefore it may well be that some day I shall kiss +the hand of her Grace the Duchess." + +"You think I desire it?" she asked. + +"I think most ladies would." + +"I don't desire it." She sprang up and stamped her foot on the ground, +crying again, "Simon, I do not desire it. I wouldn't be his wife. You +smile! You don't believe me?" + +"No offer is refused until it's made," said I, and, with a bow that +asked permission, I took a draught of the ale. + +She looked at me in great anger, her cheek suffused with underlying red +and her dark eyes sparkling. + +"I wish you hadn't saved me," she said in a fury. + +"That we had gone forward to Calais?" I asked maliciously. + +"Sir, you're insolent." She flung the reproof at me like a stone from a +catapult. But then she repeated, "I wouldn't be his wife." + +"Well, then, you wouldn't," said I, setting down the jug and rising. +"How shall we pass the day? For we mustn't go to Dover till nightfall." + +"I must be all day here with you?" she cried in visible consternation. + +"You must be all day here, but you needn't be with me. I'll go down to +the beach; I shall be within hail if need arises, and you can rest here +alone." + +"Thank you, Simon," she answered with a most sudden and wonderful +meekness. + +Without more, I took my way to the seashore and lay down on the +sun-warmed shingle. Being very weary and without sleep now for +six-and-thirty hours, I soon closed my eyes, keeping the pistol ready by +my side. I slept peacefully and without a dream; the sun was high in +heaven when, with a yawn and a stretching of my limbs, I awoke. I heard, +as I opened my eyes, a little rustling as of somebody moving; my hand +flew to the butt of my pistol. But when I turned round I saw Barbara +only. She was sitting a little way behind me, looking out over the sea. +Feeling my gaze she looked round. + +"I grew afraid, left all alone," she said in a timid voice. + +"Alas, I snored when I should have been on guard!" I exclaimed. + +"You didn't snore," she cried. "I--I mean not in the last few moments. I +had only just come near you. I'm afraid I spoke unkindly to you." + +"I hadn't given a thought to it," I hastened to assure her. + +"You were indifferent to what I said?" she cried. + +I rose to my feet and made her a bow of mock ceremony. My rest had put +me in heart again, and I was in a mood to be merry. + +"Nay, madame," said I, "you know that I am your devoted servant, and +that all I have in the world is held at your disposal." + +She looked sideways at me, then at the sea again. + +"By heaven, it's true!" I cried. "All I have is yours. See!" I took out +my precious guinea, and bending on my knee with uncovered head presented +it to Mistress Barbara. + +She turned her eyes down to it and sat regarding it for a moment. + +"It's all I have, but it's yours," said I most humbly. + +"Mine?" + +"Most heartily." + +She lifted it from my palm with finger and thumb very daintily, and, +before I knew what she was doing, or could have moved to hinder her if I +had the mind, she raised her arm over her head and with all her strength +flung the guinea into the sparkling waves. + +"Heaven help us!" I cried. + +"It was mine. That's what I chose to do with it," said Barbara. + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII + +SOME MIGHTY SILLY BUSINESS + + +"In truth, madame," said I, "it's the wont of your sex. As soon as a +woman knows a thing to be hers entirely, she'll fling it away." With +this scrap of love's lore and youth's philosophy I turned my back on my +companion, and having walked to where the battered pasty lay beside the +empty jug sat down in high dudgeon. Barbara's eyes were set on the spot +where the guinea had been swallowed by the waves, and she took no heed +of my remark nor of my going. + +Say that my pleasantry was misplaced, say that she was weary and +strained beyond her power, say what you will in excuse, I allow it all. +Yet it was not reason to fling my last guinea into the sea. A flash of +petulance is well enough and may become beauty as summer lightning decks +the sky, but fury is for termagants, and nought but fury could fling my +last guinea to the waves. The offence, if offence there were, was too +small for so monstrous an outburst. Well, if she would quarrel, I was +ready; I had no patience with such tricks; they weary a man of sense; +women serve their turn ill by using them. Also I had done her some small +service. I would die sooner than call it to her mind, but it would have +been a grace in her to remember it. + +The afternoon came, grew to its height, and waned as I lay, back to sea +and face to cliff, thinking now of all that had passed, now of what was +before me, sparing a moment's fitful sorrow for the poor wretch who lay +dead there by the cottage door, but returning always in resentful mood +to my lost guinea and Barbara's sore lack of courtesy. If she needed me, +I was ready; but heaven forbid that I should face fresh rebuffs by +seeking her! I would do my duty to her and redeem my pledge. More could +not now be looked for, nay, by no possibility could be welcome; to keep +away from her was to please her best. It was well, for in that her mind +jumped with mine. In two hours now we could set out for Dover. + +"Simon, I'm hungry." + +The voice came from behind my shoulder, a yard or two away, a voice very +meek and piteous, eloquent of an exhaustion and a weakness so great +that, had they been real, she must have fallen by me, not stood upright +on her feet. Against such stratagems I would be iron. I paid no heed, +but lay like a log. + +"Simon, I'm very thirsty too." + +Slowly I gathered myself up and, standing, bowed. + +"There's a fragment of the pasty," said I; "but the jug is empty." + +I did not look in her face and I knew she did not look in mine. + +"I can't eat without drinking," she murmured. + +"I have nothing with which to buy liquor, and there's nowhere to buy +it." + +"But water, Simon? Ah, but I mustn't trouble you." + +"I'll go to the cottage and seek some." + +"But that's dangerous." + +"You shall come to no hurt." + +"But you?" + +"Indeed I need a draught for myself. I should have gone after one in any +case." + +There was a pause, then Barbara said: + +"I don't want it. My thirst has passed away." + +"Will you take the pasty?" + +"No, my hunger is gone too." + +I bowed again. We stood in silence for a moment. + +"I'll walk a little," said Barbara. + +"At your pleasure," said I. "But pray don't go far, there may be +danger." + +She turned away and retraced her steps to the beach. The instant she was +gone, I sprang up, seized the jug, and ran at the best of my speed to +the cottage. Jonah Wall lay still across the entrance, no living +creature was in sight; I darted in and looked round for water; a pitcher +stood on the table, and I filled the jug hastily. Then, with a smile of +sour triumph, I hurried back the way I had come. She should have no +cause to complain of me. I had been wronged, and was minded to hug my +grievance and keep the merit of the difference all on my side. That +motive too commonly underlies a seeming patience of wrong. I would not +for the world enrich her with a just quarrel, therefore I brought her +water, ay, although she feigned not to desire it. There it was for her, +let her take it if she would, or leave it if she would; and I set the +jug down by the pasty. She should not say that I had refused to fetch +her what she asked, although she had, for her own good reasons, flung my +guinea into the sea. She would come soon, then would be my hour. Yet I +would spare her; a gentleman should show no exultation; silence would +serve to point the moral. + +But where was she? To say truth, I was impatient for the play to begin +and anticipation grew flat with waiting. I looked down to the shore but +could not see her. I rose and walked forward till the beach lay open +before me. Where was Barbara? + +A sudden fear ran through me. Had any madness seized the girl, some +uncontrolled whim made her fly from me? She could not be so foolish. But +where was she? On the moment of the question a cry of surprise rang from +my lips. There, ahead of me, not on the shore, but on the sea, was +Barbara. The boat was twelve or fifteen yards from the beach, Barbara's +face was towards me, and she was rowing out to sea. Forgetting pasty and +jug, I bounded down. What new folly was this? To show herself in the +boat was to court capture. And why did she row out to sea? In an instant +I was on the margin of the water. I called out to her, she took no heed; +the boat was heavy, but putting her strength into the strokes she drove +it along. Again I called, and called unheeded. Was this my triumph? I +saw a smile on her face. Not she, but I, afforded the sport then. I +would not stand there, mocked for a fool by her eyes and her smile. + +"Come back," I cried. + +The boat moved on. I was in the water to my knees. "Come back," I cried. +I heard a laugh from the boat, a high nervous laugh; but the boat moved +on. With an oath I cast my sword from me, throwing it behind me on the +beach, and plunged into the water. Soon I was up to the neck, and I took +to swimming. Straight out to sea went the boat, not fast, but +relentlessly. In grim anger I swam with all my strength. I could not +gain on her. She had ceased now even to look where my head bobbed among +the waves; her face was lifted towards the sky. By heaven, did she in +very truth mean to leave me? I called once more. Now she answered. + +"Go back," she said. "I'm going alone." + +"By heaven, you aren't," I muttered with a gasp, and set myself to a +faster stroke. Bad to deal with are women! Must she fly from me and risk +all because I had not smiled and grinned and run for what she needed, +like a well-trained monkey? Well, I would catch her and bring her back. + +But catch her I could not. A poor oarsman may beat a fair swimmer, and +she had the start of me. Steadily out to sea she rowed, and I toiled +behind. If her mood lasted--and hurt pride lasts long in disdainful +ladies who are more wont to deal strokes than to bear them--my choice +was plain. I must drown there like a rat, or turn back a beaten cur. +Alas for my triumph! If to have thought on it were sin, I was now +chastened. But Barbara rowed on. In very truth she meant to leave me, +punishing herself if by that she might sting me. What man would have +shown that folly--or that flower of pride? + +Yet was I beaten? I do not love to be beaten, above all when the game +has seemed in my hands. I had a card to play, and, between my pants, +smiled grimly as it came into my mind. I glanced over my shoulder; I was +hard on half-a-mile from shore. Women are compassionate; quick on +pride's heels there comes remorse. I looked at the boat; the interval +that parted me from it had not narrowed by an inch, and its head was +straight for the coast of France. I raised my voice, crying: + +"Stop, stop!" + +No answer came. The boat moved on. The slim figure bent and rose again, +the blades moved through the water. Well then, the card should be +played, the trick of a wily gamester, but my only resource. + +"Help, help!" I cried; and letting my legs fall and raising my hands +over my head, I inhaled a full breath and sank like a stone, far out of +sight beneath the water. Here I abode as long as I could; then, after +swimming some yards under the surface, I rose and put my head out again, +gasping hard and clearing my matted hair from before my eyes. I could +scarcely stifle a cry. The boat's head was turned now, and Barbara was +rowing with furious speed towards where I had sunk, her head turned over +her shoulder and her eyes fixed on the spot. She passed by where I was, +but did not see me. She reached the spot and dropped her oars. + +"Help, help!" I cried a second time, and stayed long enough to let her +see my head before I dived below. But my stay was shorter now. Up again, +I looked for her. She was all but over me as she went by; she panted, +she sobbed, and the oars only just touched water. I swam five strokes +and caught at the gunwale of the boat. A loud cry broke from her. The +oars fell from her hand. The boat was broad and steady. I flung my leg +over and climbed in, panting hard. In truth I was out of breath. Barbara +cried, "You're safe!" and hid her face in her hands. + +We were mad both of us, beyond a doubt, she sobbing there on the thwart, +I panting and dripping in the bows. Yet for a touch of such sweet +madness now, when all young nature was strung to a delicious contest, +and the blood spun through the veins full of life! Our boat lay +motionless on the sea, and the setting sun caught the undergrowth of +red-brown hair that shot through Barbara's dark locks. My own state was, +I must confess, less fair to look on. + +I controlled my voice to a cold steadiness, as I wrung the water from my +clothes. + +"This is a mighty silly business, Mistress Barbara," said I. + +I had angled for a new outburst of fury, my catch was not what I looked +for. Her hands were stretched out towards me, and her face, pale and +tearful, pleaded with me. + +"Simon, Simon, you were drowning! Through my--my folly! Oh, will you +ever forgive me? If--if you had come to hurt, I wouldn't have lived." + +"Yet you were running away from me." + +"I didn't dream that you'd follow. Indeed I didn't think that you'd risk +death." Then her eyes seemed to fall on my dripping clothes. In an +instant she snatched up the cloak that lay by her, and held it towards +me, crying "Wrap yourself in it." + +"Nay, keep your cloak," said I, "I shall be warm enough with rowing. I +pray you, madame, tell me the meaning of this freak of yours." + +"Nothing, nothing. I--Oh, forgive me, Simon. Ah, how I shuddered when I +looked round on the water and couldn't see you! I vowed to God that if +you were saved----." She stopped abruptly. + +"My death would have been on your conscience?" I asked. + +"Till my own death," she said. + +"Then indeed," said I, "I'm very glad that I wasn't drowned." + +"It's enough that you were in peril of it," she murmured woefully. + +"I pray heaven," said I cheerfully, "that I may never be in greater. +Come, Mistress Barbara, sport for sport, trick for trick, feint for +feint. I think your intention of leaving me was pretty much as real as +this peril of drowning from which I have escaped." + +Her hands, which still implored me, fell to her side. An expression of +wonder spread over her face. + +"In truth, I meant to leave you," she said. + +"And why, madame?" + +"Because I burdened you." + +"But you had consented to accept my aid." + +"While you seemed to give it willingly. But I had angered you in the +matter of that----" + +"Ay, of that guinea. Well, it was my last." + +"Yes, of the guinea. Although I was foolish, yet I could not endure +your----" Again she hesitated. + +"Pray let me hear?" said I. + +"I would not stay where my company was suffered rather than prized," +said she. + +"So you were for trying fortune alone?" + +"Better that than with an unwilling defender," said she. + +"Behold your injustice!" I cried. "For, rather than lose you, I have +faced all, even drowning!" And I laughed. + +Her eyes were fixed on my face, but she did not speak. I believe she +feared to ask me the question that was in her dark eyes. But at last she +murmured: + +"Why do you speak of tricks? Simon, why do you laugh?" + +"Why, since by a trick you left me--indeed I cannot believe it was no +trick." + +"I swear it was no trick!" + +"I warrant it was. And thus by a trick I have contrived to thwart it." + +"By a trick?" + +"Most assuredly. Am I a man to drown with half a mile's swimming in +smooth water?" Again I laughed. + +She leant forward and spoke in an agitated voice, yet imperiously. + +"Tell me the truth. Were you indeed in danger and distress?" + +"Not a whit," said I composedly. "But you wouldn't wait for me." + +Slowly came her next question. + +"It was a trick, then?" + +"And crowned with great success," said I. + +"All a trick?" + +"Throughout," I answered. + +Her face grew set and rigid, and, if it might be, yet paler than before. +I waited for her to speak, but she said nothing. She drew away the cloak +that she had offered me, and, wrapping it about her shoulders, withdrew +to the stern of the boat. I took her place, and laid hold of the oars. + +"What's your pleasure now, madame?" I asked. + +"What you will," she said briefly. + +I looked at her; she met my gaze with a steady regard. I had expected +scorn, but found grief and hurt. Accused by the sight, I wrapped myself +in a cold flippancy. + +"There is small choice," said I. "The beach is there, and that we have +found not pleasant. Calais is yonder, where certainly we must not go. To +Dover then? Evening falls, and if we go gently it will be dark before we +reach the town." + +"Where you will. I care not," said Barbara, and she folded her cloak so +about her face that I could see little more of her than her eyes and her +brows. Here at length was my triumph, as sweet as such joys are; malice +is their fount and they smack of its bitterness. Had I followed my +heart, I would have prayed her pardon. A sore spirit I had impelled her, +my revenge lacked justice. Yet I would not abase myself, being now in my +turn sore and therefore obstinate. With slow strokes I propelled the +boat towards Dover town. + +For half an hour I rowed; dusk fell, and I saw the lights of Dover. A +gentler mood came on me. I rested an instant, and, leaning forward, said +to Barbara: + +"Yet I must thank you. Had I been in peril, you would have saved me." + +No answer came. + +"I perceived that you were moved by my fancied danger," I persisted. + +Then she spoke clearly, calmly, and coldly. + +"I wouldn't have a dog drown under my eyes," said she. "The spectacle is +painful." + +I performed such a bow as I could, sitting there, and took up my oars +again. I had made my advance; if such were the welcome, no more should +come from me. I rowed slowly on, then lay on my oars awhile, waiting for +darkness to fall. The night came, misty again and chill. I grew cold as +I waited (my clothes were but half-dry), and would gladly have thumped +myself with my hands. But I should have seemed to ask pity of the statue +that sat there, enveloped in the cloak, with closed eyes and pale +unmoved face. Suddenly she spoke. + +"Are you cold, sir?" + +"Cold? I am somewhat over-heated with rowing, madame," I answered. "But, +I pray you, wrap your cloak closer round you." + +"I am very well, I thank you, sir." + +Yet cold I was, and bitterly. Moreover I was hungry and somewhat faint. +Was Barbara hungry? I dared not ask her lest she should find a fresh +mockery in the question. + +When I ventured to beach the boat a little way out of Dover, it was +quite dark, being hard on ten o'clock. I offered Barbara my hand to +alight, but she passed it by unnoticed. Leaving the boat to its fate, we +walked towards the town. + +"Where are you taking me?" asked Barbara. + +"To the one person who can serve us," I answered. "Veil your face, and +it would be well that we shouldn't speak loud." + +"I have no desire to speak at all," said Barbara. + +I would not tell her whither she went. Had we been friends, to bring her +there would have taxed my persuasion to the full; as our affairs stood, +I knew she would lie the night in the street before she would go. But if +I got her to the house, I could keep her. But would she reach the house? +She walked very wearily, faltering in her step and stumbling over every +loose stone. I put out my arm to save her once, but she drew away from +it, as though I had meant to strike her. + +At last we came to the narrow alley; making a sign to Barbara, I turned +down it. The house was in front of me; all was quiet, we had escaped +detection. Why, who should seek for us? We were at Calais with King +Louis, at Calais where we were to be married! + +Looking at the house, I found the upper windows dark; there had been the +quarters of Phineas Tate, and the King had found him others. But below +there was a light. + +"Will it please you to wait an instant, while I go forward and rouse my +friend? I shall see then whether all is safe." + +"I will wait here," answered Barbara, and she leant against the wall of +the alley which fronted the house. In much trepidation I went on and +knocked with my knuckles on the door. There was no other course; yet I +did not know how either of them would take my action--the lady within or +the lady without, she whom I asked for succour or she in whose cause I +sought it. + +My entry was easy; a man-servant and a maid were just within, and the +house seemed astir. My request for their mistress caused no surprise; +the girl opened the door of the room. I knew the room and gave my name. +A cry of pleasure greeted it, and a moment later Nell herself stood +before me. + +"From the Castle or Calais, from Deal or the devil?" she cried. In truth +she had a knack of telling you all she knew in a sentence. + +"Why, from half-way between Deal and the devil," said I. "For I have +left Monmouth on one side and M. de Perrencourt on the other, and am +come safe through." + +"A witty Simon! But why in Dover again?" + +"For want of a friend, mistress. Am I come to one?" + +"With all my heart, Simon. What would you?" + +"Means to go to London." + +"Now Heaven is kind! I go there myself in a few hours. You stare. In +truth, it's worth a stare. But the King commands. How did you get rid of +Louis?" + +I told her briefly. She seemed barely to listen, but looked at me with +evident curiosity, and, I think, with some pleasure. + +"A brave thing!" she cried. "Come, I'll carry you to London. Nobody +shall touch you while you're hid under the hem of my petticoat. It will +be like old times, Simon." + +"I have no money," said I. + +"But I have plenty. For the less the King comes, the more he sends. He's +a gentleman in his apologies." Her sigh breathed more contentment than +repining. + +"So you'll take me with you?" + +"To the world's end, Simon, and if you don't ask that, at least to +London." + +"But I'm not alone," said I. + +She looked at me for an instant. Then she began to laugh. + +"Whom have you with you?" she asked. + +"The lady," said I. + +She laughed still, but it seemed to me not very heartily. + +"I'm glad," she said, "that one man in England thinks me a good +Christian. By heaven, you do, Simon, or you'd never ask me to aid your +love." + +"There's no love in the matter," I cried. "We're at daggers drawn." + +"Then certainly there's love in it," said Mistress Nell, nodding her +pretty head in a mighty sagacious manner. "Does she know to whom you've +brought her?" + +"Not yet," I answered with a somewhat uneasy smile. + +"How will she take it?" + +"She has no other help," said I. + +"Oh, Simon, what a smooth tongue is yours!" She paused, seeming, to fall +into a reverie. Then she looked at me wickedly. + +"You and your lady are ready to face the perils of the road?" + +"Her peril is greater here, and mine as great." + +"The King's pursuit, Monmouth's rage, soldiers, officers, footpads?" + +"A fig for them all!" + +"Another peril?" + +"For her or for me?" + +"Why, for both, good Simon. Don't you understand! See then!" She came +near to me, smiling most saucily, and pursing her lips together as +though she meant to kiss me. + +"If I were vowed to the lady, I should fear the test," said I, "but I am +free." + +"Where is she?" asked Nell, letting my answer pass with a pout. + +"By your very door." + +"Let's have her in," cried Nell, and straightway she ran into the alley. + +I followed, and came up with her just as she reached Barbara. Barbara +leant no more against the wall, but lay huddled at the foot of it. +Weariness and hunger had overcome her; she was in a faint, her lips +colourless and her eyes closed. Nell dropped beside her, murmuring low, +soft consolations. I stood by in awkward helplessness. These matters +were beyond my learning. + +"Lift her and carry her in," Nell commanded, and, stooping, I lifted her +in my arms. The maid and the man stared. Nell shut the door sharply on +them. + +"What have you done to her?" she cried to me in angry accusation. +"You've let her go without food." + +"We had none. She flung my last money into the sea," I pleaded. + +"And why? Oh, hold your peace and let us be!" + +To question and refuse an answer is woman's way; should it be forbidden +to Nell, who was woman from crown to sole? I shrugged my shoulders and +drew off to the far end of the room. For some moments I heard nothing +and remained very uneasy, not knowing whether it were allowed me to look +or not, nor what passed. Then I heard Barbara's voice. + +"I thank you, I thank you much. But where am I, and who are you? Forgive +me, but who are you?" + +"You're in Dover, and safe enough, madame," answered Nell. "What does it +matter who I am? Will you drink a little of this to please me?" + +"No, but who are you? I seem to know your face." + +"Like enough. Many have seen it." + +"But tell me who you are." + +"Since you will know, Simon Dale must stand sponsor for me. Here, +Simon!" + +I rose in obedience to the summons. A thing that a man does not feel of +his own accord, a girl's eyes will often make him feel. I took my stand +by Nell boldly enough; but Barbara's eyes were on mine, and I was full +of fear. + +"Tell her who I am, Simon," said Nell. + +I looked at Nell. As I live, the fear that was in my heart was in her +eyes. Yet she had faced the world and laughed to scorn all England's +frowns. She understood my thought, and coloured red. Since when had +Cydaria learnt to blush? Even at Hatchstead my blush had been the target +for her mockery. "Tell her," she repeated angrily. + +But Barbara knew. Turning to her, I had seen the knowledge take shape in +her eyes and grow to revulsion and dismay. I could not tell what she +would say; but now my fear was in no way for myself. She seemed to watch +Nell for awhile in a strange mingling of horror and attraction. Then she +rose, and, still without a word, took her way on trembling feet towards +the door. To me she gave no glance and seemed to pay no heed. We two +looked for an instant, then Nell darted forward. + +"You mustn't go," she cried. "Where would you go? You've no other +friend." + +Barbara paused, took one step more, paused again. + +"I shan't harm you," said Nell. Then she laughed. "You needn't touch me, +if you will have it so. But I can help you. And I can help Simon; he's +not safe in Dover." She had grown grave, but she ended with another +laugh, "You needn't touch me. My maid is a good girl--yes, it's +true--and she shall tend you." + +"For pity's sake, Mistress Barbara----" I began. + +"Hush," said Nell, waving me back with a motion of her hand. Barbara now +stood still in the middle of the room. She turned her eyes on me, and +her whisper sounded clear through all the room. + +"Is it----?" she asked. + +"It is Mistress Eleanor Gwyn," said I, bowing my head. + +Nell laughed a short strange laugh; I saw her breast rise and fall, and +a bright red patch marked either cheek. + +"Yes, I'm Nelly," said she, and laughed again. + +Barbara's eyes met hers. + +"You were at Hatchstead?" + +"Yes," said Nell, and now she smiled defiantly; but in a moment she +sprang forward, for Barbara had reeled, and seemed like to faint again +and fall. A proud motion of the hand forbade Nell's approach, but +weakness baffled pride, and now perforce Barbara caught at her hand. + +"I--I can go in a moment," stammered Barbara. "But----." + +Nell held one hand. Very slowly, very timidly, with fear and shame plain +on her face, she drew nearer, and put out her other hand to Barbara. +Barbara did not resist her, but let her come nearer; Nell's glance +warned me not to move, and I stood where I was, watching them. Now the +clasp of the hand was changed for a touch on the shoulder, now the +comforting arm sank to the waist and stole round it, full as timidly as +ever gallant's round a denying mistress; still I watched, and I met +Nell's bright eyes, which looked across at me wet and sparkling. The +dark hair almost mingled with the ruddy brown as Barbara's head fell on +Nell's shoulder. I heard a little sob, and Barbara moaned: + +"Oh, I'm tired, and very hungry." + +"Rest here, and you shall have food, my pretty," said Nell Gwyn. "Simon, +go and bid them give you some." + +I went, glad to go. And as I went I heard, "There, pretty, don't cry." + +Well, women love to weep. A plague on them, though, they need not make +us also fools. + + + + +CHAPTER XIX + +A NIGHT ON THE ROAD + + +In a man of green age and inexperience a hasty judgment may gain pardon +and none need wonder that his hopes carry him on straightway to +conclusions born of desire rather than of reason. The meeting I feared +had passed off so softly that I forgot how strange and delicate it was, +and what were the barriers which a gust of sympathy had for the moment +levelled. It did not enter my mind that they must raise their heads +again, and that friendship, or even companionship, must be impossible +between the two whom I, desperately seeking some refuge, had thrown +together. Yet an endeavour was made, and that on both sides; obligation +blunted the edge of Mistress Barbara's scorn, freedom's respect for +virtue's chain schooled Nell to an unwonted staidness of demeanour. The +fires of war but smouldered, the faintest puff of smoke showing only +here and there. I was on the alert to avoid an outbreak; for awhile no +outbreak came and my hopes grew to confidence. But then--I can write the +thing no other way--that ancient devil of hers made re-entry into the +heart of Mistress Gwyn. I was a man, and a man who had loved her; it was +then twice intolerable that I should disclaim her dominion, that I +should be free, nay, that I should serve another with a sedulous care +which might well seem devotion; for the offence touching the guinea was +forgotten, my mock drowning well-nigh forgiven, and although Barbara had +few words for me, they were such that gratitude and friendship shone in +them through the veil of embarrassment. Mistress Nell's shrewd eyes were +on us, and she watched while she aided. It was in truth her interest, as +she conceived, to carry Barbara safe out of Dover; but there was +kindness also in her ample succour; although (ever slave to the sparkle +of a gem) she seized with eager gratitude on Louis' jewelled dagger when +I offered it as my share of our journey's charges, she gave full return; +Barbara was seated in her coach, a good horse was provided for me, her +servant found me a sober suit of clothes and a sword. Thus our strange +party stole from Dover before the town was awake, Nell obeying the +King's command which sent her back to London, and delighting that she +could punish him for it by going in our company. I rode behind the +coach, bearing myself like a serving-man until we reached open country, +when I quickened pace and stationed myself by the window. Up to this +time matters had gone well; if they spoke, it was of service given and +kindness shown. But as the day wore on and we came near Canterbury the +devil began to busy himself. Perhaps I showed some discouragement at the +growing coldness of Barbara's manner, and my anxiety to warm her to +greater cordiality acted as a spur on our companion. First Nell laughed +that my sallies gained small attention and my compliments no return, +that Barbara would not talk of our adventures of the day before, but +harped always on coming speedily where her father was and so discharging +me from my forced service. A merry look declared that if Mistress +Quinton would not play the game another would; a fusillade of glances +opened, Barbara seeing and feigning not to see, I embarrassed, yet +chagrined into some return; there followed words, half-whispered, +half-aloud, not sparing in reminiscence of other days and mischievously +pointed with tender sentiment. The challenge to my manhood was too +tempting, the joy of encounter too sweet. Barbara grew utterly silent, +sitting with eyes downcast and lips set in a disapproval that needed no +speech for its expression. Bolder and bolder came Nell's advances; when +I sought to drop behind she called me up; if I rode ahead she swore she +would bid the driver gallop his horses till she came to me again. "I +can't be without you, Simon. Ah, 'tis so long since we were together," +she whispered, and turned naughty eyes on Barbara. + +Yet we might have come through without declared conflict, had not a +thing befallen us at Canterbury that brought Nell into fresh temptation, +and thereby broke the strained cords of amity. The doings of the King +at Dover had set the country in some stir; there was no love of the +French, and less of the Pope; men were asking, and pretty loudly, why +Madame came; she had been seen in Canterbury, the Duke of York had given +a great entertainment there for her. They did not know what I knew, but +they were uneasy concerning the King's religion and their own. Yet Nell +must needs put her head well out of window as we drove in. I know not +whether the sequel were what she desired, it was at least what she +seemed not to fear; a fellow caught sight of her and raised a cheer. The +news spread quick among the idle folk in the street, and the busy, +hearing it, came out of their houses. A few looked askance at our +protector, but the larger part, setting their Protestantism above their +scruples, greeted her gladly, and made a procession for her, cheering +and encouraging her with cries which had more friendliness than delicacy +in them. Now indeed I dropped behind and rode beside the mounted +servant. The fellow was all agrin, triumphing in his mistress's +popularity. Even so she herself exulted in it, and threw all around nods +and smiles, ay, and, alas, repartees conceived much in the same spirit +as the jests that called them forth. I could have cried on the earth to +swallow me, not for my own sake (in itself the scene was entertaining +enough, however little it might tend to edification), but on account of +Mistress Barbara. Fairly I was afraid to ride forward and see her face, +and dreaded to remember that I had brought her to this situation. But +Nell laughed and jested, flinging back at me now and again a look that +mocked my glum face and declared her keen pleasure in my perplexity and +her scorn of Barbara's shame. Where now were the tenderness and sympathy +which had made their meeting beautiful? The truce was ended and war +raged relentless. + +We came to our inn; I leapt from my horse and forestalled the bustling +host in opening the coach door. The loons of townsmen and their +gossiping wives lined the approach on either side; Nell sprang out, +merry, radiant, unashamed; she laughed in my face as she ran past me +amid the plaudits; slowly Barbara followed; with a low bow I offered my +arm. Alas, there rose a murmur of questions concerning her; who was the +lady that rode with Nell Gwyn, who was he that, although plainly +attired, bore himself so proudly? Was he some great lord, travelling +unknown, and was the lady----? Well, the conjectures may be guessed, and +Mistress Quinton heard them. Her pride broke for a moment and I feared +she would weep; then she drew herself up and walked slowly by with a +haughty air and a calm face, so that the murmured questions fell to +silence. Perhaps I also had my share in the change, for I walked after +her, wearing a fierce scowl, threatening with my eyes, and having my +hand on the hilt of my sword. + +The host, elate with the honour of Nell's coming, was eager to offer us +accommodation. Barbara addressed not a word either to Nell or to me, but +followed a maid to the chamber allotted to her. Nell was in no such +haste to hide herself from view. She cried for supper, and was led to a +room on the first floor which overlooked the street. She threw the +window open, and exchanged more greetings and banter with her admirers +below. I flung my hat on the table and sat moodily in a chair. Food was +brought, and Nell, turning at last from her entertainment, flew to +partake of it with merry eagerness. + +"But doesn't Mistress Quinton sup with us?" she said. + +Mistress Quinton, it seemed, had no appetite for a meal, was shut close +in her own chamber, and refused all service. Nell laughed and bade me +fall to. I obeyed, being hungry in spite of my discomfort. + +I was resolute not to quarrel with her. She had shewn me great +friendliness; nay, and I had a fondness for her, such as I defy any man +(man I say, not woman) to have escaped. But she tried me sorely, and +while we ate she plied me with new challenges and fresh incitements to +anger. I held my temper well in bounds, and, when I was satisfied, rose +with a bow, saying that I would go and enquire if I could be of any aid +to Mistress Quinton. + +"She won't shew herself to you," cried Nell mockingly. + +"She will, if you're not with me," I retorted. + +"Make the trial! Behold, I'm firmly seated here!" + +A maid carried my message while I paced the corridor; the lady's +compliments returned to me, but, thanks to the attention of the host, +she had need of nothing. I sent again, saying that I desired to speak +with her concerning our journey. The lady's excuses returned to me; she +had a headache and had sought her bed; she must pray me to defer my +business till the morrow, and wished Mistress Gwyn and me good-night. +The maid tripped off smiling. + +"Plague on her!" I cried angrily and loudly. A laugh greeted the +exclamation, and I turned to see Nell standing in the doorway of the +room where we had supped. + +"I knew, I knew!" she cried, revelling in her triumph, her eyes dancing +in delight. "Poor Simon! Alas, poor Simon, you know little of women! But +come, you're a brave lad, and I'll comfort you. Besides you have given +me a jewelled dagger. Shall I lend it to you again, to plunge in your +heart, poor Simon?" + +"I don't understand you. I have no need of a dagger," I answered +stiffly; yet, feeling a fool there in the passage, I followed her into +the room. + +"Your heart is pierced already?" she asked. "Ah, but your heart heals +well! I'll spend no pity on you." + +There was now a new tone in her voice. Her eyes still sparkled in +mischievous exultation that she had proved right and I come away sore +and baffled. But when she spoke of the healing of my heart, there was an +echo of sadness; the hinting of some smothered sorrow seemed to be +struggling with her mirth. She was a creature all compounded of sudden +changing moods; I did not know when they were true, when feigned in +sport or to further some device. She came near now and bent over my +chair, saying gently, + +"Alas, I'm very wicked! I couldn't help the folk cheering me, Simon. +Surely it was no fault of mine?" + +"You had no need to look out of the window of the coach," said I +sternly. + +"But I did that with never a thought. I wanted the air. I----" + +"Nor to jest and banter. It was mighty unseemly, I swear." + +"In truth I was wrong to jest with them," said Nell remorsefully. "And +within, Simon, my heart was aching with shame, even while I jested. Ah, +you don't know the shame I feel!" + +"In good truth," I returned, "I believe you feel no shame at all." + +"You're very cruel to me, Simon. Yet it's no more than my desert. Ah, +if----"; she sighed heavily. "If only, Simon----," she said, and her +hand was very near my hair by the back of the chair. "But that's past +praying," she ended, sighing again most woefully. "Yet I have been of +some service to you." + +"I thank you for it most heartily," said I, still stiff and cold. + +"And I was very wrong to-day. Simon, it was on her account." + +"What?" I cried. "Did Mistress Quinton bid you put your head out and +jest with the fellows on the pavement?" + +"She did not bid me; but I did it because she was there." + +I looked up at her; it was a rare thing with her, but she would not meet +my glance. I looked down again. + +"It was always the same between her and me," murmured Nell. "Ay, so long +ago--even at Hatchstead." + +"We're not in Hatchstead now," said I roughly. + +"No, nor even in Chelsea. For even in Chelsea you had a kindness for +me." + +"I have much kindness for you now." + +"Well, then you had more." + +"It is in your knowledge why now I have no more." + +"Yes, it's in my knowledge!" she cried. "Yet I carried Mistress Quinton +from Dover." + +I made no answer to that. She sighed "Heigho," and for a moment there +was silence. But messages pass without words, and there are speechless +Mercuries who carry tidings from heart to heart. Then the air is full +of whisperings, and silence is but foil to a thousand sounds which the +soul hears though the dull corporeal ear be deaf. Did she still amuse +herself, or was there more? Sometimes a part, assumed in play or malice, +so grows on the actor that he cannot, even when he would, throw aside +his trappings and wash from his face the paint which was to show the +passion that he played. The thing takes hold and will not be thrown +aside; it seems to seek revenge for the light assumption and punishes +the bravado that feigned without feeling by a feeling which is not +feint. She was now, for the moment if you will, but yet now, in earnest. +Some wave of recollection or of fancy had come over her and transformed +her jest. She stole round till her face peeped into mine in piteous +bewitching entreaty, asking a sign of fondness, bringing back the past, +raising the dead from my heart's sepulchre. There was a throbbing in my +brain; yet I had need of a cool head. With a spring I was on my feet. + +"I'll go and ask if Mistress Barbara sleeps," I stammered. "I fear she +may not be well attended." + +"You'll go again? Once scorned, you'll go again, Simon? Well, the maid +will smile; they'll make a story of it among themselves at their supper +in the kitchen." + +The laugh of a parcel of knaves and wenches! Surely it is a small thing! +But men will face death smiling who run wry-faced from such ridicule. I +sank in my chair again. But in truth did I desire to go? The dead rise, +or at least there is a voice that speaks from the tomb. A man tarries to +listen. Well if he be not lost in listening! + +With a sigh Nell moved across the room and flung the window open. The +loiterers were gone, all was still, only the stars looked in, only the +sweet scent of the night made a new companion. + +"It's like a night at Hatchstead," she whispered. "Do you remember how +we walked there together? It smelt as it smells to-night. It's so long +ago!" She came quickly towards me and asked "Do you hate me now?" but +did not wait for the answer. She threw herself in a chair near me and +fixed her eyes on me. It was strange to see her face grave and wrung +with agitation; yet she was better thus, the new timidity became her +marvellously. + +There was a great clock in the corner of the old panelled room; it +ticked solemnly, seeming to keep time with the beating of my heart. I +had no desire to move, but sat there waiting; yet every nerve of my body +was astir. Now I watched her every movement, took reckoning of every +feature, seemed to read more than her outward visage showed and to gain +knowledge of her heart. I knew that she tempted me, and why. I was not a +fool, to think that she loved me; but she was set to conquer me, and +with her there was no price that seemed high when the prize was victory +or a whim's fulfilment. + +I would have written none of this, but that it is so part and marrow of +my history that without it the record of my life would go limping on one +leg. + +She rose and came near me again. Now she laughed, yet still not lightly, +but as though she hid a graver mood. + +"Come," said she, "you needn't fear to be civil to me. Mistress Barbara +is not here." + +The taunt was well conceived; for the most part there is no incitement +that more whips a man to any madness than to lay self-control to the +score of cowardice, and tell him that his scruples are not his own, but +worn by command of another and on pain of her displeasure. But sometimes +woman's cunning goes astray, and a name, used in mockery, speaks for +itself with strong attraction, as though it held the charm of her it +stands for. The name, falling from Nell's pouting lips, had power to +raise in me a picture, and the picture spread, like a very painting done +on canvas, a screen between me and the alluring eyes that sought mine in +provoking witchery. She did not know her word's work, and laughed again +to see me grow yet more grave at Barbara's name. + +"The stern mistress is away," she whispered. "May we not sport? The door +is shut! Why, Simon, you're dull. In truth you're as dull as the King +when his purse is empty." + +I raised my eyes to hers, she read the thought. She tossed her head, +flinging the brown curls back; her eyes twinkled merrily, and she said +in a soft whisper half-smothered in a rising laugh, + +"But, Simon, the King also is away." + +I owed nothing to the King and thought nothing of the King. It was not +there I stuck. Nay, and I did not stick on any score of conscience. Yet +stick I did, and gazed at her with a dumb stare. She seemed to fall into +a sudden rage, crying, + +"Go to her then if you will, but she won't have you. Would you like to +know what she called you to-day in the coach?" + +"I would hear nothing that was not for my ears." + +"A very pretty excuse; but in truth you fear to hear it." + +Alas, the truth was even as she said. I feared to hear it. + +"But you shall hear it. 'A good honest fellow,' she said, 'but somewhat +forward for his station.' So she said, and leant back with half-closed +lids. You know the trick these great ladies have? By Heaven, though, I +think she wronged you! For I'll swear on my Bible that you're not +forward, Simon. Well, I'm not Mistress Quinton." + +"You are not," said I, sore and angry, and wishing to wound her in +revenge for the blow she had dealt me. + +"Now you're gruff with me for what she said. It's a man's way. I care +not. Go and sigh outside her door; she won't open it to you." + +She drew near to me again, coaxing and seeking to soften me. + +"I took your part," she whispered, "and declared that you were a fine +gentleman. Nay, I told her how once I had come near to--Well, I told her +many things that it should please you to hear. But she grew mighty short +with me, and on the top came the folk with their cheers. Hence my lady's +in a rage." + +She shrugged her shoulders; I sat there sullen. The scornful words were +whirling through my brain. "Somewhat forward for his station!" It was a +hard judgment on one who had striven to serve her. In what had I shewn +presumption? Had she not professed to forgive all offence? She kept the +truth for others, and it came out when my back was turned. + +"Poor Simon!" said Nell softly. "Indeed I wonder any lady should speak +so of you. It's an evil return for your kindness to her." + +Silence fell on us for awhile. Nell was by me now, her hand rested +lightly on my shoulder, and, looking up, I saw her eyes on my face in +mingled pensiveness and challenge. + +"Indeed you are not forward," she murmured with a little laugh, and set +one hand over her eyes. + +I sat and looked at her; yet, though I seemed to look at her only, the +whole of the room with its furnishings is stamped clear and clean on my +memory. Nell moved a little away and stood facing me. + +"It grows late," she said softly, "and we must be early on the road. +I'll bid you good-night, and go to my bed." + +She came to me, holding out her hand; I did not take it, but she laid it +for a moment on mine. Then she drew it away and moved towards the door. +I rose and followed her. + +"I'll see you safe on your way," said I in a low voice. She met my gaze +for a moment, but made no answer in words. We were in the corridor now, +and she led the way. Once she turned her head and again looked at me. It +was a sullen face she saw, but still I followed. + +"Tread lightly!" she whispered. "There's her door; we pass it, and she +would not love to know that you escorted me. She scorns you herself, and +yet when another----" The sentence went unended. + +In a tumult of feeling still I followed. I was half-mad with resentment +against Barbara; swearing to myself that her scorn was nothing to me, I +shrank from nothing to prove to my own mind the lie that my heart would +not receive. + +"The door!" whispered Nell, going delicately on her toes with uplifted +forefinger. + +I cannot tell why, but at the word I came to a stand. Nell, looking over +her shoulder and seeing me stand, turned to front me. She smiled +merrily, then frowned, then smiled again with raised eye-brows. I stood +there, as though pinned to the spot. For now I had heard a sound from +within. It came very softly. There was a stir as of someone moving, then +a line of some soft sad song, falling in careless half-consciousness +from saddened lips. The sound fell clear and plain on my ears, though I +paid no heed to the words and have them not in my memory; I think that +in them a maid spoke to her lover who left her, but I am not sure. I +listened. The snatch died away, and the movement in the room ceased. All +was still again, and Nell's eyes were fixed on mine. I met them +squarely, and thus for awhile we stood. Then came the unspoken question, +cried from the eyes that were on mine in a thousand tones. I could trace +the play of her face but dimly by the light of the smoky lantern, but +her eyes I seemed to see bright and near. I had looked for scorn there, +and, it might be, amusement. I seemed to see (perhaps the imperfect +light played tricks), besides lure and raillery, reproach, sorrow, and, +most strange of all, a sort of envy. Then came a smile, and ever so +lightly her finger moved in beckoning. The song came no more through the +closed door: my ears were empty of it, but not my heart; there it +sounded still in its soft pleading cadence. Poor maid, whose lover left +her! Poor maid, poor maid! I looked full at Nell, but did not move. The +lids dropped over her eyes, and their lights went out. She turned and +walked slowly and alone along the corridor. I watched her going, yes, +wistfully I watched. But I did not follow, for the snatch of song rose +in my heart. There was a door at the end of the passage; she opened it +and passed through. For a moment it stood open, then a hand stole back +and slowly drew it close. It was shut. The click of the lock rang loud +and sharp through the silent house. + + + + +CHAPTER XX + +THE VICAR'S PROPOSITION + + +I do not know how long I stood outside the door there in the passage. +After awhile I began to move softly to and fro, more than once reaching +the room where I was to sleep, but returning again to my old post. I was +loth to forsake it. A strange desire was on me. I wished that the door +would open, nay, to open it myself, and by my presence declare what was +now so plain to me. But to her it would not have been plain; for now I +was alone in the passage, and there was nothing to show the thing which +had come to me there, and there at last had left me. Yet it seemed +monstrous that she should not know, possible to tell her to-night, +certain that my shame-faced tongue would find no words to-morrow. It was +a thing that must be said while the glow and the charm of it were still +on me, or it would find no saying. + +The light had burnt down very low, and gave forth a dim fitful glare, +hardly conquering the darkness. Now, again, I was standing still, lost +in my struggle. Presently, with glad amazement, as though there had +come an unlooked-for answer to my prayer, I heard a light step within. +The footfalls seemed to hesitate; then they came again, the bolt of the +door shot back, and a crack of faint light shewed. "Who's there?" asked +Barbara's voice, trembling with alarm or some other agitation which made +her tones quick and timid. I made no answer. The door opened a little +wider. I saw her face as she looked out, half-fearful, yet surely also +half-expectant. Much as I had desired her coming, I would willingly have +escaped now, for I did not know what to say to her. I had rehearsed my +speech a hundred times; the moment for its utterance found me dumb. Yet +the impulse I had felt was still on me, though it failed to give me +words. + +"I thought it was you," she whispered. "Why are you there? Do you want +me?" + +Lame and halting came my answer. + +"I was only passing by on my way to bed," I stammered. "I'm sorry I +roused you." + +"I wasn't asleep," said she. Then after a pause she added, "I--I thought +you had been there some time. Good-night." + +She bade me good-night, but yet seemed to wait for me to speak; since I +was still silent she added, "Is our companion gone to bed?" + +"Some little while back," said I. Then raising my eyes to her face, I +said, "I'm sorry that you don't sleep." + +"Alas, we both have our sorrows," she returned with a doleful smile. +Again there was a pause. + +"Good-night," said Barbara. + +"Good-night," said I. + +She drew back, the door closed, I was alone again in the passage. + +Now if any man--nay, if every man--who reads my history, at this place +close the leaves on his thumb and call Simon Dale a fool, I will not +complain of him; but if he be moved to fling the book away for good and +all, not enduring more of such a fool as Simon Dale, why I will humbly +ask him if he hath never rehearsed brave speeches for his mistress's ear +and found himself tongue-tied in her presence? And if he hath, what did +he then? I wager that, while calling himself a dolt with most hearty +honesty, yet he set some of the blame on her shoulders, crying that he +would have spoken had she opened the way, that it was her reticence, her +distance, her coldness, which froze his eloquence; and that to any other +lady in the whole world he could have poured forth words so full of fire +that they must have inflamed her to a passion like to his own and burnt +down every barrier which parted her heart from his. Therefore at that +moment he searched for accusations against her, and found a +bitter-tasting comfort in every offence that she had given him, and made +treasure of any scornful speech, rescuing himself from the extreme of +foolishness by such excuse as harshness might afford. Now Barbara +Quinton had told Mistress Nell that I was forward for my station. What +man could, what man would, lay bare his heart to a lady who held him to +be forward for his station? + +These meditations took me to my chamber, whither I might have gone an +hour before, and lasted me fully two hours after I had stretched myself +upon the bed. Then I slept heavily; when I woke it was high morning. I +lay there a little while, thinking with no pleasure of the journey +before me. Then having risen and dressed hastily, I made my way to the +room where Nell and I had talked the night before. I did not know in +what mood I should find her, but I desired to see her alone and beg her +to come to some truce with Mistress Quinton, lest our day's travelling +should be over thorns. She was not in the room when I came there. +Looking out of window I perceived the coach at the door; the host was +giving an eye to the horses, and I hailed him. He ran in and a moment +later entered the room. + +"At what hour are we to set out?" I asked. + +"When you will," said he. + +"Have you no orders then from Mistress Gwyn?" + +"She left none with me, sir." + +"Left none?" I cried, amazed. + +A smile came on his lips and his eyes twinkled. + +"Now I thought it!" said he with a chuckle. "You didn't know her +purpose? She has hired a post-chaise and set out two hours ago, telling +me that you and the other lady would travel as well without her, and +that, for her part, she was weary of both of you. But she left a message +for you. See, it lies there on the table." + +A little packet was on the table; I took it up. The innkeeper's eyes +were fixed on me in obvious curiosity and amusement. I was not minded to +afford him more entertainment than I need, and bade him begone before I +opened the packet. He withdrew reluctantly. Then I unfastened Nell's +parcel. It contained ten guineas wrapped in white paper, and on the +inside of the paper was written in a most laborious awkward scrawl (I +fear the execution of it gave poor Nell much pains), "In pay for your +dagger. E.G." It was all of her hand I had ever seen; the brief message +seemed to speak a sadness in her. Perhaps I deluded myself; her skill +with the pen would not serve her far. She had gone, that was the sum of +it, and I was grieved that she had gone in this fashion. + +With the piece of paper still in my hands, the guineas also still +standing in a little pile on the table, I turned to find Barbara Quinton +in the doorway of the room. Her air was timid, as though she were not +sure of welcome, and something of the night's embarrassment still hung +about her. She looked round as though in search for somebody. + +"I am alone here," said I, answering her glance. + +"But she? Mistress----?" + +"She's gone," said I. "I haven't seen her. The innkeeper tells me that +she has been gone these two hours. But she has left us the coach +and----" I walked to the window and looked out. "Yes, and my horse is +there, and her servant with his horse." + +"But why is she gone? Hasn't she left----?" + +"She has left ten guineas also," said I, pointing to the pile on the +table. + +"And no reason for her going?" + +"Unless this be one," I answered, holding out the piece of paper. + +"I won't read it," said Barbara. + +"It says only, 'In pay for your dagger.'" + +"Then it gives no reason." + +"Why, no, it gives none," said I. + +"It's very strange," murmured Barbara, looking not at me but past me. + +Now to me, when I pondered over the matter, it did not seem altogether +strange. Yet where lay the need to tell Mistress Barbara why it seemed +not altogether strange? Indeed I could not have told it easily, seeing +that, look at it how you will, the thing was not easy to set forth to +Mistress Barbara. Doubtless it was but a stretch of fancy to see any +meaning in Nell's mention of the dagger, save the plain one that lay on +the surface; yet had she been given to conceits, she might have used the +dagger as a figure for some wound that I had dealt her. + +"No doubt some business called her," said I rather lamely. "She has +shown much consideration in leaving her coach for us." + +"And the money? Shall you use it?" + +"What choice have I?" + +Barbara's glance was on the pile of guineas. I put out my hand, took +them up, and stowed them in my purse; as I did this, my eye wandered to +the window. Barbara followed my look and my thought also. I had no mind +that this new provision for our needs should share the fate of my last +guinea. + +"You needn't have said that!" cried Barbara, flushing; although, as may +be seen, I had said nothing. + +"I will repay the money in due course," said I, patting my purse. + +We made a meal together in unbroken silence. No more was said of +Mistress Nell; our encounter in the corridor last night seemed utterly +forgotten. Relieved of a presence that was irksome to her and would have +rendered her apprehensive of fresh shame at every place we passed +through, Mistress Barbara should have shown an easier bearing and more +gaiety; so I supposed and hoped. The fact refuted me; silent, cold, and +distant, she seemed in even greater discomfort than when we had a +companion. Her mood called up a like in me, and I began to ask myself +whether for this I had done well to drive poor Nell away. + +Thus in gloom we made ready to set forth. Myself prepared to mount my +horse, I offered to hand Barbara into the coach. Then she looked at me; +I noted it, for she had not done so much for an hour past; a slight +colour came into her cheeks, she glanced round the interior of the +coach; it was indeed wide and spacious for one traveller. + +"You ride to-day also?" she asked. + +The sting that had tormented me was still alive; I could not deny myself +the pleasure of a retort so apt. I bowed low and deferentially, saying, +"I have learnt my station. I would not be so forward as to sit in the +coach with you." The flush on her cheeks deepened suddenly; she +stretched out her hand a little way towards me, and her lips parted as +though she were about to speak. But her hand fell again, and her lips +shut on unuttered words. + +"As you will," she said coldly. "Pray bid them set out." + +Of our journey I will say no more. There is nothing in it that I take +pleasure in telling, and to write its history would be to accuse either +Barbara or myself. For two days we travelled together, she in her coach, +I on horseback. Come to London, we were told that my lord was at +Hatchstead; having despatched our borrowed equipage and servant to their +mistress, and with them the amount of my debt and a most grateful +message, we proceeded on our road, Barbara in a chaise, I again riding. +All the way Barbara shunned me as though I had the plague, and I on my +side showed no desire to be with a companion so averse from my society. +On my life I was driven half-mad, and had that night at Canterbury come +again--well, Heaven be thanked that temptation comes sometimes at +moments when virtue also has attractions, or which of us would stand? +And the night we spent on the road, decorum forbade that we should so +much as speak, much less sup, together; and the night we lay in London, +I spent at one end of the town and she at the other. At least I showed +no forwardness; to that I was sworn, and adhered most obstinately. Thus +we came to Hatchstead, better strangers than ever we had left Dover, +and, although safe and sound from bodily perils and those wiles of +princes that had of late so threatened our tranquillity, yet both of us +as ill in temper as could be conceived. Defend me from any such journey +again! But there is no likelihood of such a trial now, alas! Yes, there +was a pleasure in it; it was a battle, and, by my faith, it was close +drawn between us. + +The chaise stopped at the Manor gates, and I rode up to the door of it, +cap in hand. Here was to be our parting. + +"I thank you heartily, sir," said Barbara in a low voice, with a bow of +her head and a quick glance that would not dwell on my sullen face. + +"My happiness has been to serve you, madame," I returned. "I grieve only +that my escort has been so irksome to you." + +"No," said Barbara, and she said no more, but rolled up the avenue in +her chaise, leaving me to find my way alone to my mother's house. + +I sat a few moments on my horse, watching her go. Then with an oath I +turned away. The sight of the gardener's cottage sent my thoughts back +to the old days when Cydaria came and caught my heart in her butterfly +net. It was just there, in the meadow by the avenue, that I had kissed +her. A kiss is a thing lightly given and sometimes lightly taken. It was +that kiss which Barbara had seen from the window, and great debate had +arisen on it. Lightly given, yet leading on to much that I did not see, +lightly taken, yet perhaps mother to some fancies that men would wonder +to find in Mistress Gwyn. + +"I'm heartily glad to be here!" I cried, loosing the Vicar's hand and +flinging myself into the high arm-chair in the chimney corner. + +My mother received this exclamation as a tribute of filial affection, +the Vicar treated it as an evidence of friendship, my sister Mary saw in +it a thanksgiving for deliverance from the perils and temptations of +London and the Court. Let them take it how they would; in truth it was +inspired in none of these ways, but was purely an expression of relief, +first at having brought Mistress Barbara safe to the Manor, in the +second place, at being quit of her society. + +"I am very curious to learn, Simon," said the Vicar, drawing his chair +near mine, and laying his hand upon my knee, "what passed at Dover. For +it seems to me that there, if at any place in the world, the prophecy +which Betty Nasroth spoke concerning you----" + +"You shall know all in good time, sir," I cried impatiently. + +"Should find its fulfilment," ended the Vicar placidly. + +"Are we not finished with that folly yet?" asked my mother. + +"Simon must tell us that," smiled the Vicar. + +"In good time, in good time," I cried again. "But tell me first, when +did my lord come here from London?" + +"Why, a week ago. My lady was sick, and the physician prescribed the air +of the country for her. But my lord stayed four days only and then was +gone again." + +I started and sat upright in my seat. + +"What, isn't he here now?" I asked eagerly. + +"Why, Simon," said my good mother with a laugh, "we looked to get news +from you, and now we have news to give you! The King has sent for my +lord; I saw his message. It was most flattering and spoke of some urgent +and great business on which the King desired my lord's immediate +presence and counsel. So he set out two days ago to join the King with a +large train of servants, leaving behind my lady, who was too sick to +travel." + +I was surprised at these tidings and fell into deep consideration. What +need had the King of my lord's counsel, and so suddenly? What had been +done at Dover would not be opened to Lord Quinton's ear. Was he summoned +as a Lord of Council or as his daughter's father? For by now the King +must know certain matters respecting my lord's daughter and a humble +gentleman who had striven to serve her so far as his station enabled him +and without undue forwardness. We might well have passed my lord's coach +on the road and not remarked it among the many that met us as we drew +near to London in the evening. I had not observed his liveries, but that +went for nothing. I took heed of little on that journey save the bearing +of Mistress Barbara. Where lay the meaning of my lord's summons? It came +into my mind that M. de Perrencourt had sent messengers from Calais, and +that the King might be seeking to fulfil in another way the bargain +whose accomplishment I had hindered. The thought was new life to me. If +my work were not finished--. I broke off; the Vicar's hand was on my +knee again. + +"Touching the prophecy----" he began. + +"Indeed, sir, in good time you shall know all. It is fulfilled." + +"Fulfilled!" he cried rapturously. "Then, Simon, fortune smiles?" + +"No," I retorted, "she frowns most damnably." + +To swear is a sin, to swear before ladies is bad manners, to swear in +talking to a clergyman is worst of all. But while my mother and my +sister drew away in offence (and I hereby tender them an apology never +yet made) the Vicar only smiled. + +"A plague on such prophecies," said I sourly. + +"Yet if it be fulfilled!" he murmured. For he held more by that than by +any good fortune of mine; me he loved, but his magic was dearer to him. +"You must indeed tell me," he urged. + +My mother approached somewhat timidly. + +"You are come to stay with us, Simon?" she asked. + +"For the term of my life, so far as I know, madame," said I. + +"Thanks to God," she murmured softly. + +There is a sort of saying that a mother speaks and a son hears to his +shame and wonder! Her heart was all in me, while mine was far away. +Despondency had got hold of me. Fortune, in her merriest mood, seeming +bent on fooling me fairly, had opened a door and shown me the prospect +of fine doings and high ambitions realised. The glimpse had been but +brief, and the tricky creature shut the door in my face with a laugh. +Betty Nasroth's prophecy was fulfilled, but its accomplishment left me +in no better state; nay, I should be compelled to count myself lucky if +I came off unhurt and were not pursued by the anger of those great folk +whose wills and whims I had crossed. I must lie quiet in Hatchstead, and +to lie quiet in Hatchstead was hell to me--ay, hell, unless by some +miracle (whereof there was but one way) it should turn to heaven. That +was not for me; I was denied youth's sovereign balm for ill-starred +hopes and ambitions gone awry. + +The Vicar and I were alone now, and I could not but humour him by +telling what had passed. He heard with rare enjoyment; and although his +interest declined from its zenith so soon as I had told the last of the +prophecy, he listened to the rest with twinkling eyes. No comment did he +make, but took snuff frequently. I, my tale done, fell again into +meditation. Yet I had been fired by the rehearsal of my own story, and +my thoughts were less dark in hue. The news concerning Lord Quinton +stirred me afresh. My aid might again be needed; my melancholy was +tinted with pleasant pride as I declared to myself that it should not be +lacking, for all that I had been used as one would not use a faithful +dog, much less a gentleman who, doubtless by no merit of his own but yet +most certainly, had been of no small service. To confess the truth, I +was so persuaded of my value that I looked for every moment to bring me +a summons, and practised under my breath the terms, respectful yet +resentful, in which I would again place my arm and sword at Barbara's +disposal. + +"You loved this creature Nell?" asked the Vicar suddenly. + +"Ay," said I, "I loved her." + +"You love her no more?" + +"Why, no," I answered, mustering a cool smile. "Folly such as that goes +by with youth." + +"Your age is twenty-four?" + +"Yes, I am twenty-four." + +"And you love her no longer?" + +"I tell you, no longer, sir." + +The Vicar opened his box and took a large pinch. + +"Then," said he, the pinch being between his finger and thumb and just +half-way on the road to his nose, "you love some other woman, Simon." + +He spoke not as a man who asks a question nor even as one who hazards an +opinion; he declared a fact and needed no answer to confirm him. "Yes, +you love some other woman, Simon," said he, and there left the matter. + +"I don't," I cried indignantly. Had I told myself a hundred times that I +was not in love to be told by another that I was? True, I might have +been in love, had not---- + +"Ah, who goes there?" exclaimed the Vicar, springing nimbly to the +window and looking out with eagerness. "I seem to know the gentleman. +Come, Simon, look." + +I obeyed him. A gentleman, attended by two servants, rode past rapidly; +twilight had begun to fall, but the light served well enough to show me +who the stranger was. He rode hard and his horse's head was towards the +Manor gates. + +"I think it is my Lord Carford," said the Vicar. "He goes to the Manor, +as I think." + +"I think it is and I think he does," said I; and for a single moment I +stood there in the middle of the room, hesitating, wavering, miserable. + +"What ails you, Simon? Why shouldn't my Lord Carford go to the Manor?" +cried the Vicar. + +"Let him go to the devil!" I cried, and I seized my hat from the table +where it lay. + +The Vicar turned to me with a smile on his lips. + +"Go, lad," said he, "and let me not hear you again deny my propositions. +They are founded on an extensive observation of humanity and----" + +Well, I know not to this day on what besides. For I was out of the house +before the Vicar completed his statement of the authority that underlay +his propositions. + + + + +CHAPTER XXI + +THE STRANGE CONJUNCTURE OF TWO GENTLEMEN + + +I have heard it said that King Charles laughed most heartily when he +learnt how a certain gentleman had tricked M. de Perrencourt and carried +off from his clutches the lady who should have gone to prepare for the +Duchess of York's visit to the Court of France. "This Uriah will not be +set in the forefront of the battle," said he, "and therefore David can't +have his way." He would have laughed, I think, even although my action +had thwarted his own schemes, but the truth is that he had so wrought on +that same devotion to her religion which, according to Mistress Nell, +inspired Mlle. de Quérouaille that by the time the news came from Calais +he had little doubt of success for himself although his friend M. de +Perrencourt had been baffled. He had made his treaty, he had got his +money, and the lady, if she would not stay, yet promised to return. The +King then was well content, and found perhaps some sly satisfaction in +the defeat of the great Prince whose majesty and dignity made any +reverse which befell him an amusement to less potent persons. In any +case the King laughed, then grew grave for a moment while he declared +that his best efforts should not be wanting to reclaim Mistress Quinton +to a sense of her duty, and then laughed again. Yet he set about +reclaiming her, although with no great energy or fierceness; and when he +heard that Monmouth had other views of the lady's duty, he shrugged his +shoulders, saying, "Nay, if there be two Davids, I'll wager a crown on +Uriah." + +It is easy to follow a man to the door of a house, but if the door be +shut after him and the pursuer not invited to enter, he can but stay +outside. So it fell out with me, and being outside I did not know what +passed within nor how my Lord Carford fared with Mistress Barbara. I +flung myself in deep chagrin on the grass of the Manor Park, cursing my +fate, myself, and if not Barbara, yet that perversity which was in all +women and, by logic, even in Mistress Barbara. But although I had no +part in it, the play went on and how it proceeded I learnt afterwards; +let me now leave the stage that I have held too long and pass out of +sight till my cue calls me again. + +This evening then, my lady, who was very sick, being in her bed, and +Mistress Barbara, although not sick, very weary of her solitude and +longing for the time when she could betake herself to the same refuge +(for there is a pride that forbids us to seek bed too early, however +strongly we desire it) there came a great knocking at the door of the +house. A gentleman on horseback and accompanied by two servants was +without and craved immediate audience of her ladyship. Hearing that she +was abed, he asked for Mistress Barbara and obtained entrance; yet he +would not give his name, but declared that he came on urgent business +from Lord Quinton. The excuse served, and Barbara received him. With +surprise she found Carford bowing low before her. I had told her enough +concerning him to prevent her welcome being warm. I would have told her +more, had she afforded me the opportunity. The imperfect knowledge that +she had caused her to accuse him rather of a timidity in face of +powerful rivals than of any deliberate design to set his love below his +ambition and to use her as his tool. Had she known all I knew she would +not have listened to him. Even now she made some pretext for declining +conversation that night and would have withdrawn at once; but he stayed +her retreat, earnestly praying her for her father's sake and her own to +hear his message, and asserting that she was in more danger than she was +aware of. Thus he persuaded her to be seated. + +"What is your message from my father, my lord?" she asked coldly, but +not uncivilly. + +"Madame, I have none," he answered with a bluntness not ill calculated. +"I used the excuse to gain admission, fearing that my own devotion to +you would not suffice, well as you know it. But although I have no +message, I think that you will have one soon. Nay, you must listen." For +she had risen. + +"I listen, my lord, but I will listen standing." + +"You're hard to me, Mistress Barbara," he said. "But take the tidings +how you will; only pay heed to them." He drew nearer to her and +continued, "To-morrow a message will come from your father. You have had +none for many days?" + +"Alas, no," said she. "We were both on the road and could send no letter +to one another." + +"To-morrow one comes. May I tell you what it will say?" + +"How can you know what it will say, my lord?" + +"I will stand by the event," said he sturdily. "The coming of the letter +will prove me right or wrong. It will bid your mother and you accompany +the messenger----" + +"My mother cannot----" + +"Or, if your mother cannot, you alone, with some waiting-woman, to +Dover." + +"To Dover?" cried Barbara. "For what purpose?" She shrank away from him, +as though alarmed by the very name of the place whence she had escaped. + +He looked full in her face and answered slowly and significantly: + +"Madame goes back to France, and you are to go with her." + +Barbara caught at a chair near her and sank into it. He stood over her +now, speaking quickly and urgently. + +"You must listen," he said, "and lose no time in acting. A French +gentleman, by name M. de Fontelles, will be here to-morrow; he carries +your father's letter and is sent to bring you to Dover." + +"My father bids me come?" she cried. + +"His letter will convey the request," answered Carford. + +"Then I will go," said she. "I can't come to harm with him, and when I +have told him all, he won't allow me to go to France." For as yet my +lord did not know of what had befallen his daughter, nor did my lady, +whose sickness made her unfit to be burdened with such troublesome +matters. + +"Indeed you would come to no harm with your father, if you found your +father," said Carford. "Come, I will tell you. Before you reach Dover my +lord will have gone from there. As soon as his letter to you was sent +the King made a pretext to despatch him into Cornwall; he wrote again to +tell you of his journey and bid you not come to Dover till he sends for +you. This letter he entrusted to a messenger of my Lord Arlington's who +was taking the road for London. But the Secretary's messengers know when +to hasten and when to loiter on the way. You are to have set out before +the letter arrives." + +Barbara looked at him in bewilderment and terror; he was to all seeming +composed and spoke with an air of honest sincerity. + +"To speak plainly, it is a trick," he said, "to induce you to return to +Dover. This M. de Fontelles has orders to bring you at all hazards, and +is armed with the King's authority in case my lord's bidding should not +be enough." + +She sat for a while in helpless dismay. Carford had the wisdom not to +interrupt her thoughts; he knew that she was seeking for a plan of +escape and was willing to let her find that there was none. + +"When do you say that M. de Fontelles will be here?" she asked at last. + +"Late to-night or early to-morrow. He rested a few hours in London, +while I rode through, else I shouldn't have been here before him." + +"And why are you come, my lord?" she asked. + +"To serve you, madame," he answered simply. + +She drew herself up, saying haughtily, + +"You were not so ready to serve me at Dover." + +Carford was not disconcerted by an attack that he must have foreseen; he +had the parry ready for the thrust. + +"From the danger that I knew I guarded you, the other I did not know." +Then with a burst of well-feigned indignation he cried, "By Heaven, but +for me the French King would have been no peril to you; he would have +come too late." + +She understood him and flushed painfully. + +"When the enemy is mighty," he pursued, "we must fight by guile, not +force; when we can't oppose we must delay; we must check where we can't +stop. You know my meaning: to you I couldn't put it more plainly. But +now I have spoken plainly to the Duke of Monmouth, praying something +from him in my own name as well as yours. He is a noble Prince, madame, +and his offence should be pardoned by you who caused it. Had I thwarted +him openly, he would have been my enemy and yours. Now he is your friend +and mine." + +The defence was clever enough to bridle her indignation. He followed up +his advantage swiftly, leaving her no time to pry for a weak spot in his +pleading. + +"By Heaven," he cried, "let us lose no time on past troubles. I was to +blame, if you will, in execution, though not, I swear, in intention. But +here and now is the danger, and I am come to guard you from it." + +"Then I am much in your debt, my lord," said she, still doubtful, yet in +her trouble eager to believe him honest. + +"Nay," said he, "all that I have, madame, is yours, and you can't be in +debt to your slave." + +I do not doubt that in this speech his passion seemed real enough, and +was the more effective from having been suppressed till now, so that it +appeared to break forth against his will. Indeed although he was a man +in whom ambition held place of love, yet he loved her and would have +made her his for passion's sake as well as for the power that he hoped +to wield through her means. I hesitate how to judge him; there are many +men who take their colour from the times, as some insects from the +plants they feed on; in honest times they would be honest, in debauched +they follow the evil fashion, having no force to stand by themselves. +Perhaps this lord was one of this kidney. + +"It's an old story, this love of mine," said he in gentler tones. "Twice +you have heard it, and a lover who speaks twice must mourn once at +least; yet the second time I think you came nearer to heeding it. May I +tell it once again?" + +"Indeed it is not the time----" she began in an agitated voice. + +"Be your answer what it may, I am your servant," he protested. "My hand +and heart are yours, although yours be another's." + +"There is none--I am free--" she murmured. His eyes were on her and she +nerved herself to calm, saying, "There is nothing of what you suppose. +But my disposition towards you, my lord, has not changed." + +He let a moment go by before he answered her; he made it seem as though +emotion forbade earlier speech. Then he said gravely, + +"I am grieved from my heart to hear it, and I pray Heaven that an early +day may bring me another answer. God forbid that I should press your +inclination now. You may accept my service freely, although you do not +accept my love. Mistress Barbara, you'll come with me?" + +"Come with you?" she cried. + +"My lady will come also, and we three together will seek your father in +Cornwall. On my faith, madame, there is no safety but in flight." + +"My mother lies too sick for travelling. Didn't you hear it from my +father?" + +"I haven't seen my lord. My knowledge of his letter came through the +Duke of Monmouth, and although he spoke there of my lady's sickness, I +trusted that she had recovered." + +"My mother cannot travel. It is impossible." + +He came a step nearer her. + +"Fontelles will be here to-morrow," he said. "If you are here then----! +Yet if there be any other whose aid you could seek----?" Again he +paused, regarding her intently. + +She sat in sore distress, twisting her hands in her lap. One there was, +and not far away. Yet to send for him crossed her resolution and stung +her pride most sorely. We had parted in anger, she and I; I had blamed +my share in the quarrel bitterly enough, it is likely she had spared +herself no more; yet the more fault is felt the harder comes its +acknowledgment. + +"Is Mr Dale in Hatchstead?" asked Carford boldly and bluntly. + +"I don't know where he is. He brought me here, but I have heard nothing +from him since we parted." + +"Then surely he is gone again?" + +"I don't know," said Barbara. + +Carford must have been a dull man indeed not to discern how the matter +lay. There is no better time to press a lady than when she is chagrined +with a rival and all her pride is under arms to fight her inclination. + +"Surely, or he could not have shewn you such indifference--nay, I must +call it discourtesy." + +"He did me service." + +"A gentleman, madame, should grow more, not less, assiduous when he is +so happy as to have put a lady under obligation." + +He had said enough, and restrained himself from a further attack. + +"What will you do?" he went on. + +"Alas, what can I do?" Then she cried, "This M. de Fontelles can't carry +me off against my will." + +"He has the King's commands," said Carford. "Who will resist him?" + +She sprang to her feet and turned on him quickly. + +"Why you," she said. "Alone with you I cannot and will not go. But you +are my--you are ready to serve me. You will resist M. de Fontelles for +my sake, ay, and for my sake the King's commands." + +Carford stood still, amazed at the sudden change in her manner. He had +not conceived this demand and it suited him very ill. The stroke was too +bold for his temper; the King was interested in this affair, and it +might go hard with the man who upset his plan and openly resisted his +messenger. Carford had calculated on being able to carry her off, and +thus defeat the scheme under show of ignorance. The thing done, and done +unwittingly, might gain pardon; to meet and defy the enemy face to face +was to stake all his fortune on a desperate chance. He was dumb. +Barbara's lips curved into a smile that expressed wonder and dawning +contempt. + +"You hesitate, sir?" she asked. + +"The danger is great," he muttered. + +"You spoke of discourtesy just now, my lord----" + +"You do not lay it to my charge?" + +"Nay, to refuse to face danger for a lady, and a lady whom a man +loves--you meant that, my lord?--goes by another name. I forgive +discourtesy sooner than that other thing, my lord." + +His face grew white with passion. She accused him of cowardice and +plainly hinted to him that, if he failed her, she would turn to one who +was no coward, let him be as discourteous and indifferent as his sullen +disposition made him. I am sorry I was not there to see Carford's face. +But he was in the net of her challenge now, and a bold front alone would +serve. + +"By God, madame," he cried, "you shall know by to-morrow how deeply you +wrong me. If my head must answer for it, you shall have the proof." + +"I thank you, my lord," said she with a little bow, as though she asked +no more than her due in demanding that he should risk his head for her. +"I did not doubt your answer." + +"You shall have no cause, madame," said he very boldly, although he +could not control the signs of his uneasiness. + +"Again I thank you," said she. "It grows late, my lord. By your +kindness, I shall sleep peacefully and without fear. Good-night." She +moved towards the door, but turned to him again, saying, "I pray your +pardon, but even hospitality must give way to sickness. I cannot +entertain you suitably while my mother lies abed. If you lodge at the +inn, they will treat you well for my father's sake, and a message from +me can reach you easily." + +Carford had strung himself to give the promise; whether he would fulfil +it or not lay uncertain in the future. But for so much as he had done he +had a mind to be paid. He came to her, and, kneeling, took her hand; she +suffered him to kiss it. + +"There is nothing I wouldn't do to win my prize," he said, fixing his +eyes ardently on her face. + +"I have asked nothing but what you seemed to offer," she answered +coldly. "If it be a matter of bargain, my lord----" + +"No, no," he cried, seeking to catch again at her hand as she drew it +away and with a curtsey passed out. + +Thus she left him without so much as a backward glance to presage +future favour. So may a lady, if she plays her game well, take all and +promise nothing. + +Carford, refused even a lodging in the house, crossed in the plan by +which he had reckoned on getting Barbara into his power, driven to an +enterprise for which he had small liking, and left in utter doubt +whether the success for which he ran so great a risk would profit him, +may well have sought the inn to which Barbara commended him in no +cheerful mood. I wager he swore a round oath or two as he and his +servants made their way thither through the dark and knocked up the +host, who, keeping country hours, was already in his bed. It cost them +some minutes to rouse him, and Carford beat most angrily on the door. At +last they were admitted. And I turned away. + +For I must confess it; I had dogged their steps, not able to rest till I +saw what would become of Carford. Yet we must give love his due; if he +takes a man into strange places, sometimes he shows him things worth his +knowing. If I, a lovesick fool, had watched a rival into my mistress's +house and watched him out of it with devouring jealousy, ay, if I had +chosen to spend my time beneath the Manor windows rather than in my own +comfortable chair, why, I had done only what many who are now wise and +sober gentleman have done in their time. And if once in that same park I +had declared my heart broken for the sake of another lady, there are +revolutions in hearts as in states, and, after the rebels have had +their day, the King comes to his own again. Nay, I have known some who +were very loyal to King Charles, and yet said nothing hard of Oliver, +whose yoke they once had worn. I will say nought against my usurper, +although the Queen may have come to her own again. + +Well, Carford should not have her. I, Simon Dale, might be the greatest +fool in the King's dominions, and lie sulking while another stormed the +citadel on which I longed to plant my flag. But the victor should not be +Carford. Among gentlemen a quarrel is easily come by; yokels may mouth +their blowsy sweetheart's name and fight openly for her favour over +their mugs of ale; we quarrel on the state of the Kingdom, the fall of +the cards, the cut of our coats, what you will. Carford and I would find +a cause without much searching. I was so hot that I was within an ace of +summoning him then and there to show by what right he rode so boldly +through my native village; that offence would serve as well as any +other. Yet prudence prevailed. The closed doors of the inn hid the party +from my sight, and I went on my way, determined to be about by cockcrow, +lest Carford should steal a march. + +But as I went I passed the Vicar's door. He stood on the threshold, +smoking his long pipe (the good man loved Virginia and gave his love +free rein in the evening) and gazing at the sky. I tried to slink by +him, fearing to be questioned; he caught sight of my figure and called +me to him; but he made no reference to the manner of our last parting. + +"Whither away, Simon?" he asked. + +"To bed, sir," said I. + +"It is well," said he. "And whence?" + +"From a walk, sir." + +His eyes met mine, and I saw them twinkle. He waved the stem of his pipe +in the air, and said, + +"Love, Simon, is a divine distemper of the mind, wherein it paints bliss +with woe's palate and sees heaven from hell." + +"You borrow from the poets, sir," said I surlily. + +"Nay," he rejoined, "the poets from me, or from any man who has or has +had a heart in him. What, Simon, you leave me?" For I had turned away. + +"It's late, sir," said I, "for the making of rhapsodies." + +"You've made yours," he smiled. "Hark, what's that?" + +As he spoke there came the sound of horse's hoofs. A moment later the +figures of two mounted men emerged from the darkness. By some impulse, I +know not what, I ran behind the Vicar and sheltered myself in the porch +at his back. Carford's arrival had set my mind astir again, and new +events found ready welcome. The Vicar stepped out a pace into the road +with his hand over his eyes, and peered at the strangers. + +"What do you call this place, sir?" came in a loud voice from the nearer +of the riders. I started at the voice; it had struck on my ears before, +and no Englishman owned it. + +"It is the village of Hatchstead, at your service," answered the Vicar. + +"Is there an inn in it?" + +"Ride for half a mile and you'll find a good one." + +"I thank you, sir." + +I could hold myself in no longer, but pushed the Vicar aside and ran out +into the road. The horsemen had already turned their faces towards the +inn, and walked along slowly, as though they were weary. "Good-night," +cried the Vicar--whether to them or to me or to all creation I know not. +The door closed on him. I stood for an instant, watching the retreating +form of the man who had enquired the way. A spirit of high excitement +came on me; it might be that all was not finished, and that Betty +Nasroth's prophecy should not bind the future in fetters. For there at +the inn was Carford, and here, if I did not err, was the man whom my +knowledge of French had so perplexed in the inn at Canterbury. + +And Carford knew Fontelles. On what errand did they come? Were they +friends to one another or foes? If friends, they should find an enemy; +if foes, there was another to share their battle. I could not tell the +meaning of this strange conjuncture whereby the two came to Hatchstead; +yet my guess was not far out, and I hailed the prospect that it gave +with a fierce exultation. Nay I laughed aloud, but first knew that I +laughed when suddenly M. de Fontelles turned in his saddle, crying in +French to his servant: + +"What was that?" + +"Something laughed," answered the fellow in an alarmed voice. + +"Something? You mean somebody." + +"I know not, it sounded strange." + +I had stepped in under the hedge when Fontelles turned, but his puzzle +and the servant's superstitious fear wrought on my excitement. Nothing +would serve me but to play a jest on the Frenchman. I laughed again +loudly. + +"God save us!" cried the servant, and I make no doubt he crossed himself +most piously. + +"It's some madman got loose," said M. de Fontelles scornfully. "Come, +let's get on." + +It was a boy's trick--a very boy's trick. Save that I set down +everything I would not tell it. I put my hands to my mouth and bellowed: + +"_Il vient!_" + +An oath broke from Fontelles. I darted into the middle of the road and +for a moment stood there laughing again. He had wheeled his horse round, +but did not advance towards me. I take it that he was amazed, or, it may +be, searching a bewildered memory. + +"_Il vient!_" I cried again in my folly, and, turning, ran down the +road at my best speed, laughing still. Fontelles made no effort to +follow me, yet on I ran, till I came to my mother's house. Stopping +there, panting and breathless, I cried in the exuberance of triumph: + +"Now she'll have need of me!" + +Certainly the thing the Vicar spoke of is a distemper. Whether divine or +of what origin I will not have judged by that night's prank of mine. + +"They'll do very well together at the inn," I laughed, as I flung myself +on my bed. + + + + +CHAPTER XXII + +THE DEVICE OF LORD CARFORD + + +It is not my desire to assail, not is it my part to defend, the +reputation of the great. There is no such purpose in anything that I +have written here. History is their judge, and our own weakness their +advocate. Some said, and many believed, that Madame brought the young +French lady in her train to Dover with the intention that the thing +should happen which happened. I had rather hold, if it be possible to +hold, that a Princess so gracious and so unfortunate meant innocently, +and was cajoled or overborne by the persuasions of her kinsmen, and +perhaps by some specious pretext of State policy. In like manner I am +reluctant to think that she planned harm for Mistress Barbara, towards +whom she had a true affection, and I will read in an honest sense, if I +can, the letter which M. de Fontelles brought with him to Hatchstead. In +it Madame touched with a light discretion on what had passed, deplored +with pretty gravity the waywardness of men, and her own simplicity which +made her a prey to their devices and rendered her less useful to her +friends than she desired to be. Yet now she was warned, her eyes were +open, she would guard her own honour, and that of any who would trust to +her. Nay, he himself, M. de Perrencourt, was penitent (even as was the +Duke of Monmouth!), and had sworn to trouble her and her friends no +more. Would not then her sweet Mistress Barbara, with whom she vowed she +had fallen so mightily in love, come back to her and go with her to +France, and be with her until the Duchess of York came, and, in good +truth, as much longer as Barbara would linger, and Barbara's father in +his kindness suffer. So ran the letter, and it seemed an honest letter. +But I do not know; and if it were honest, yet who dared trust to it? +Grant Madame the best of will, where lay her power to resist M. de +Perrencourt? But M. de Perrencourt was penitent. Ay, his penitence was +for having let the lady go, and would last until she should be in his +power again. + +Let the intent of the letter he carried be what it might, M. de +Fontelles, a gentleman of courage and high honour, believed his business +honest. He had not been at Dover, and knew nothing of what had passed +there; if he were an instrument in wicked schemes, he did not know the +mind of those who employed him. He came openly to Hatchstead on an +honourable mission, as he conceived, and bearing an invitation which +should give great gratification to the lady to whom it was addressed. +Madame did Mistress Quinton the high compliment of desiring her company, +and would doubtless recompense her well for the service she asked. +Fontelles saw no more and asked no more. In perfect confidence and +honesty he set about his task, not imagining that he had been sent on an +errand with which any man could reproach him, or with a purpose that +gave any the right of questioning his actions. Nor did my cry of "_Il +vient_" change this mood in him. When he collected his thoughts and +recalled the incident in which those words had played a part before, he +saw in them the challenge of someone who had perhaps penetrated a State +secret, and was ill-affected towards the King and the King's policy; +but, being unaware of any connection between Mistress Barbara and M. de +Perrencourt, he did not associate the silly cry with the object of his +present mission. So also, on hearing that a gentleman was at the inn +(Carford had not given his name) and had visited the Manor, he was in no +way disquieted, but ready enough to meet any number of gentlemen without +fearing their company or their scrutiny. + +Gaily and courteously he presented himself to Barbara. Her mother lay +still in bed, and she received him alone in the room looking out on the +terrace. With a low bow and words of deference he declared his errand, +and delivered to her the letter he bore from Madame, making bold to add +his own hopes that Mistress Quinton would not send him back +unsuccessful, but let him win the praise of a trustworthy messenger. +Then he twirled his moustaches, smiled gallantly, and waited with all +composure while she read the letter. Indeed he deserves some pity, for +women are wont to spend much time on reasoning in such a case. When a +man comes on a business which they suspect to be evil, they make no ado +about holding him a party to it, and that without inquiring whether he +knows the thing to which he is setting his hand. + +Barbara read her letter through once and a second time; then, without a +word to Fontelles, aye, not so much as bidding him be seated, she called +a servant and sent him to the inn to summon Carford to her. She spoke +low, and the Frenchman did not hear. When they were again alone +together, Barbara walked to the window, and stood there looking out. +Fontelles, growing puzzled and ill at ease, waited some moments before +he ventured to address her; her air was not such as to encourage him; +her cheek was reddened and her eyes were indignant. Yet at last he +plucked up his courage. + +"I trust, madame," said he, "that I may carry the fairest of answers +back with me?" + +"What answer is that, sir?" she asked, half-turning to him with a +scornful glance. + +"Yourself, madame, if you will so honour me," he answered, bowing. "Your +coming would be the answer best pleasing to Madame, and the best +fulfilment of my errand." + +She looked at him coolly for a moment or two, and then said, + +"I have sent for a gentleman who will advise me on my answer." + +M. de Fontelles raised his brows, and replied somewhat stiffly, + +"You are free, madame, to consult whom you will, although I had hoped +that the matter needed but little consideration." + +She turned full on him in a fury. + +"I thank you for your judgment of me, sir," she cried. "Or is it that +you think me a fool to be blinded by this letter?" + +"Before heaven----" began the puzzled gentleman. + +"I know, sir, in what esteem a woman's honour is held in your country +and at your King's Court." + +"In as high, madame, as in your country and at your Court." + +"Yes, that's true. God help me, that's true! But we are not at Court +now, sir. Hasn't it crossed your mind that such an errand as yours may +be dangerous?" + +"I had not thought it," said he with a smile and a shrug. "But, pardon +me, I do not fear the danger." + +"Neither danger nor disgrace?" she sneered. + +Fontelles flushed. + +"A lady, madame, may say what she pleases," he remarked with a bow. + +"Oh, enough of pretences," she cried. "Shall we speak openly?" + +"With all my heart, madame," said he, lost between anger and +bewilderment. + +For a moment it seemed as though she would speak, but the shame of open +speech was too great for her. In his ignorance and wonder he could do +nothing to aid her. + +"I won't speak of it," she said. "It's a man's part to tell you the +truth, and to ask account from you. I won't soil my lips with it." + +Fontelles took a step towards her, seeking how he could assuage a fury +that he did not understand. + +"As God lives----" he began gravely. Barbara would not give him +opportunity. + +"I pray you," she cried, "stand aside and allow me to pass. I will not +stay longer with you. Let me pass to the door, sir. I'll send a +gentleman to speak with you." + +Fontelles, deeply offended, utterly at a loss, flung the door open for +her and stood aside to let her pass. + +"Madame," he said, "it must be that you misapprehend." + +"Misapprehend? Yes, or apprehend too clearly!" + +"As I am a gentleman----" + +"I do not grant it, sir," she interrupted. + +He was silent then; bowing again, he drew a pace farther back. She stood +for a moment, looking scornfully at him. Then with a curtsey she bade +him farewell and passed out, leaving him in as sad a condition as ever +woman's way left man since the world began. + +Now, for reasons that have been set out, Carford received his summons +with small pleasure, and obeyed it so leisurely that M. de Fontelles had +more time than enough in which to rack his brains for the meaning of +Mistress Barbara's taunts. But he came no nearer the truth, and was +reduced to staring idly out of the window till the gentleman who was to +make the matter plain should arrive. Thus he saw Carford coming up to +the house on foot, slowly and heavily, with a gloomy face and a nervous +air. Fontelles uttered an exclamation of joy; he had known Carford, and +a friend's aid would put him right with this hasty damsel who denied him +even the chance of self-defence. He was aware also that, in spite of his +outward devotion to the Duke of Monmouth, Carford was in reality of the +French party. So he was about to run out and welcome him, when his steps +were stayed by the sight of Mistress Barbara herself, who flew to meet +the new-comer with every sign of eagerness. Carford saluted her, and the +pair entered into conversation on the terrace, Fontelles watching them +from the window. To his fresh amazement, the interview seemed hardly +less fierce than his own had been. The lady appeared to press some +course on her adviser, which the adviser was loth to take; she insisted, +growing angry in manner; he, having fenced for awhile and protested, +sullenly gave way; he bowed acquiescence while his demeanour asserted +disapproval, she made nothing of his disapproval and received his +acquiescence with a scorn little disguised. Carford passed on to the +house; Barbara did not follow him, but, flinging herself on a marble +seat, covered her face with her hands and remained there in an attitude +which spoke of deep agitation and misery. + +"By my faith," cried honest M. de Fontelles, "this matter is altogether +past understanding!" + +A moment later Carford entered the room and greeted him with great +civility. M. de Fontelles lost no time in coming to the question; his +grievance was strong and bitter, and he poured out his heart without +reserve. Carford listened, saying little, but being very attentive and +keeping his shrewd eyes on the other's face. Indignation carried +Fontelles back and forwards along the length of the room in restless +paces; Carford sat in a chair, quiet and wary, drinking in all that the +angry gentleman said. My Lord Carford was not one who believed hastily +in the honour and honesty of his fellow-men, nor was he prone to expect +a simple heart rather than a long head; but soon he perceived that the +Frenchman was in very truth ignorant of what lay behind his mission, and +that Barbara's usage of him caused genuine and not assumed offence. The +revelation set my lord a-thinking. + +"And she sends for you to advise her?" cried Fontelles. "That, my +friend, is good; you can advise her only in one fashion." + +"I don't know that," said Carford, feeling his way. + +"It is because you don't know all. I have spoken gently to her, seeking +to win her by persuasion. But to you I may speak plainly. I have direct +orders from the King to bring her and to suffer no man to stop me. +Indeed, my dear lord, there is no choice open to you. You wouldn't +resist the King's command?" + +Yet Barbara demanded that he should resist even the King's command. +Carford said nothing, and the impetuous Frenchman ran on: + +"Nay, it would be the highest offence to myself to hinder me. Indeed, my +lord, all my regard for you could not make me suffer it. I don't know +what this lady has against me, nor who has put this nonsense in her +head. It cannot be you? You don't doubt my honour? You don't taunt me +when I call myself a gentleman?" + +He came to a pause before Carford, expecting an answer to his hot +questions. He saw offence in the mere fact that Carford was still +silent. + +"Come, my lord," he cried, "I do not take pleasure in seeing you think +so long. Isn't your answer easy?" He assumed an air of challenge. + +Carford was, I have no doubt, most plagued and perplexed. He could have +dealt better with a knave than with this fiery gentleman. Barbara had +demanded of him that he should resist even the King's command. He might +escape that perilous obligation by convincing Fontelles himself that he +was a tool in hands less honourable than his own; then the Frenchman +would in all likelihood abandon his enterprise. But with him would go +Carford's hold on Barbara and his best prospect of winning her; for in +her trouble lay his chance. If, on the other hand, he quarrelled openly +with Fontelles, he must face the consequences he feared or incur +Barbara's unmeasured scorn. He could not solve the puzzle and determined +to seek a respite. + +"I do not doubt your honour, sir," he said. Fontelles bowed gravely. +"But there is more in this matter than you know. I must beg a few hours +for consideration and then I will tell you all openly." + +"My orders will not endure much delay." + +"You can't take the lady by force." + +"I count on the aid of my friends and the King's to persuade her to +accompany me willingly." + +I do not know whether the words brought the idea suddenly and as if with +a flash into Carford's head. It may have been there dim and vague +before, but now it was clear. He paused on his way to the door, and +turned back with brightened eyes. He gave a careless laugh, saying, + +"My dear Fontelles, you have more than me to reckon with before you take +her away." + +"What do you mean, my lord?" + +"Why, men in love are hard to reason with, and with fools in love there +is no reasoning at all. Come, I'm your friend, although there is for the +moment a difficulty that keeps us apart. Do you chance to remember our +meeting at Canterbury?" + +"Why, very well." + +"And a young fellow who talked French to you?" Carford laughed again. +"He disturbed you mightily by calling out----" + +"'_Il vient!_'" cried Fontelles, all on the alert. + +"Precisely. Well, he may disturb you again." + +"By Heaven, then he's here?" + +"Why, yes." + +"I met him last night! He cried those words to me again. The insolent +rascal! I'll make him pay for it." + +"In truth you've a reckoning to settle with him." + +"But how does he come into this matter?" + +"Insolent still, he's a suitor for Mistress Quinton's hand." + +Fontelles gave a scornful shrug of his shoulders; Carford, smiling and +more at ease, watched him. The idea promised well; it would be a stroke +indeed could the quarrel be shifted on to my shoulders, and M. de +Fontelles and I set by the ears; whatever the issue of that difference, +Carford stood to win by it. And I, not he, would be the man to resist +the King's commands. + +"But how comes he here?" cried Fontelles. + +"The fellow was born here. He is an old neighbour of Mistress Quinton." + +"Dangerous then?" + +It was Carford's turn to shrug his shoulders, as he said, + +"Fools are always dangerous. Well, I'll leave you. I want to think. Only +remember; if you please to be on your guard against me, why, be more on +your guard against Simon Dale." + +"He dares not stop me. Nay, why should he? What I propose is for the +lady's advantage." + +Carford saw the quarrel he desired fairly in the making. M. de Fontelles +was honest, M. de Fontelles was hot-tempered, M. de Fontelles would be +told that he was a rogue. To Carford this seemed enough. + +"You would do yourself good if you convinced him of that," he answered. +"For though she would not, I think, become his wife, he has the +influence of long acquaintance, and might use it against you. But +perhaps you're too angry with him?" + +"My duty comes before my quarrel," said Fontelles. "I will seek this +gentleman." + +"As you will. I think you're wise. They will know at the inn where to +find him." + +"I will see him at once," cried Fontelles. "I have, it seems, two +matters to settle with this gentleman." + +Carford, concealing his exultation, bade M. de Fontelles do as seemed +best to him. Fontelles, declaring again that the success of his mission +was nearest his heart, but in truth eager to rebuke or chasten my +mocking disrespect, rushed from the room. Carford followed more +leisurely. He had at least time for consideration now; and there were +the chances of this quarrel all on his side. + +"Will you come with me?" asked Fontelles. + +"Nay, it's no affair of mine. But if you need me later----" He nodded. +If it came to a meeting, his services were ready. + +"I thank you, my lord," said the Frenchman, understanding his offer. + +They were now at the door, and stepped out on the terrace. Barbara, +hearing their tread, looked up. She detected the eagerness in M. de +Fontelles' manner. He went up to her at once. + +"Madame," he said, "I am forced to leave you for a while, but I shall +soon return. May I pray you to greet me more kindly when I return?" + +"In frankness, sir, I should be best pleased if you did not return," she +said coldly, then, turning to Carford, she looked inquiringly at him. +She conceived that he had done her bidding, and thought that the +gentlemen concealed their quarrel from her. "You go with M. de +Fontelles, my lord?" she asked. + +"With your permission, I remain here," he answered. + +She was vexed, and rose to her feet as she cried, + +"Then where is M. de Fontelles going?" + +Fontelles took the reply for himself. + +"I am going to seek a gentleman with whom I have business," said he. + +"You have none with my Lord Carford?" + +"What I have with him will wait." + +"He desires it should wait?" she asked in a quick tone. + +"Yes, madame." + +"I'd have sworn it," said Barbara Quinton. + +"But with Mr Simon Dale----" + +"With Simon Dale? What concern have you with Simon Dale?" + +"He has mocked me twice, and I believe hinders me now," returned +Fontelles, his hot temper rising again. + +Barbara clasped her hands, and cried triumphantly, + +"Go to him, go to him. Heaven is good to me! Go to Simon Dale!" + +The amazed eyes of Fontelles and the sullen enraged glance of Carford +recalled her to wariness. Yet the avowal (O, that it had pleased God I +should hear it!) must have its price and its penalty. A burning flush +spread over her face and even to the border of the gown on her neck. But +she was proud in her shame, and her eyes met theirs in a level gaze. + +To Fontelles her bearing and the betrayal of herself brought fresh and +strong confirmation of Carford's warning. But he was a gentleman, and +would not look at her when her blushes implored the absence of his eyes. + +"I go to seek Mr Dale," said he gravely, and without more words turned +on his heel. + +In a sudden impulse, perhaps a sudden doubt of her judgment of him, +Barbara darted after him. + +"For what purpose do you seek him?" + +"Madame," he answered, "I cannot tell you." + +She looked for a moment keenly in his face; her breath came quick and +fast, the hue of her cheek flashed from red to white. + +"Mr Dale," said she, drawing herself up, "will not fear to meet you." + +Again Fontelles bowed, turned, and was gone, swiftly and eagerly +striding down the avenue, bent on finding me. + +Barbara was left alone with Carford. His heavy frown and surly eyes +accused her. She had no mind to accept the part of the guilty. + +"Well, my lord," she said, "have you told this M. de Fontelles what +honest folk would think of him and his errand?" + +"I believe him to be honest," answered Carford. + +"You live the quieter for your belief!" she cried contemptuously. + +"I live the less quiet for what I have seen just now," he retorted. + +There was a silence. Barbara stood with heaving breast, he opposite to +her, still and sullen. She looked long at him, but at last seemed not to +see him; then she spoke in soft tones, not as though to him, but rather +in an answer to her own heart, whose cry could go no more unheeded. Her +eyes grew soft and veiled in a mist of tears that did not fall. (So I +see it--she told me no more than that she was near crying.) + +"I couldn't send for him," she murmured. "I wouldn't send for him. But +now he will come, yes, he'll come now." + +Carford, driven half-mad by an outburst which his own device had caused, +moved by whatever of true love he had for her, and by his great rage and +jealousy against me, fairly ran at her and caught her by the wrist. + +"Why do you talk of him? Do you love him?" he said from between clenched +teeth. + +She looked at him, half-angry, half-wondering. Then she said, + +"Yes." + +"Nell Gwyn's lover?" said Carford. + +Her cheek flushed again, and a sob caught her voice as it came. + +"Yes," said she. "Nell Gywn's lover." + +"You love him?" + +"Always, always, always." Then she drew herself near to him in a sudden +terror. "Not a word, not a word," she cried. "I don't know what you are, +I don't trust you; forgive me, forgive me; but whatever you are, for +pity's sake, ah, my dear lord, for pity's sake, don't tell him. Not a +word!" + +"I will not speak of it to M. de Fontelles," said Carford. + +An amazed glance was followed by a laugh that seemed half a sob. + +"M. de Fontelles! M. de Fontelles! No, no, but don't tell Simon." + +Carford's lips bent in a forced smile uglier than a scowl. + +"You love this fellow?" + +"You have heard." + +"And he loves you?" + +The sneer was bitter and strong. In it seemed now to lie Carford's only +hope. Barbara met his glance an instant, and her answer to him was, + +"Go, go." + +"He loves you?" + +"Leave me. I beg you to leave me. Ah, God, won't you leave me?" + +"He loves you?" + +Her face went white. For a while she said nothing; then in a calm quiet +voice, whence all life and feeling, almost all intelligence, seemed to +have gone, she answered, + +"I think not, my lord." + +He laughed. "Leave me," she said again, and he, in grace of what +manhood there was in him, turned on his heel and went. She stood alone, +there on the terrace. + +Ah, if God had let me be there! Then she should not have stood desolate, +nor flung herself again on the marble seat. Then she should not have +wept as though her heart broke, and all the world were empty. If I had +been there, not the cold marble should have held her, and for every +sweetest tear there should have been a sweeter kiss. Grief should have +been drowned in joy, while love leapt to love in the fulness of delight. +Alas for pride, breeder of misery! Not life itself is so long as to give +atonement to her for that hour; though she has said that one moment, a +certain moment, was enough. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIII + + +A PLEASANT PENITENCE + + +There was this great comfort in the Vicar's society that, having once +and for all stated the irrefutable proposition which I have recorded, he +let the matter alone. Nothing was further from his thoughts than to +argue on it, unless it might be to take any action in regard to it. To +say the truth, and I mean no unkindness to him in saying it, the affair +did not greatly engage his thoughts. Had Betty Nasroth dealt with it, +the case would doubtless have been altered, and he would have followed +its fortune with a zest as keen as that he had bestowed on my earlier +unhappy passion. But the prophecy had stopped short, and all that was of +moment for the Vicar in my career, whether in love, war, or State, was +finished; I had done and undergone what fate declared and demanded, and +must now live in gentle resignation. Indeed I think that in his inmost +heart he wondered a little to find me living on at all. This attitude +was very well for him, and I found some amusement in it even while I +chafed at his composed acquiescence in my misfortunes. But at times I +grew impatient, and would fling myself out of the house, crying "Plague +on it, is this old crone not only to drive me into folly, but to forbid +me a return to wisdom?" + +In such a mood I had left him, to wander by myself about the lanes, +while he sat under the porch of his house with a great volume open on +his knees. The book treated of Vaticination in all its branches, and the +Vicar read diligently, being so absorbed in his study that he did not +heed the approach of feet, and looked up at last with a start. M. de +Fontelles stood there, sent on from the inn to the parsonage in the +progress of his search for me. + +"I am called Georges de Fontelles, sir," he began. + +"I am the Vicar of this parish, at your service, sir," returned the +Vicar courteously. + +"I serve the King of France, but have at this time the honour of being +employed by his Majesty the King of England." + +"I trust, sir," observed the Vicar mildly, "that the employment is an +honour." + +"Your loyalty should tell you so much." + +"We are commanded to honour the King, but I read nowhere that we must +honour all that the King does." + +"Such distinctions, sir, lead to disaffection and even to rebellion," +said Fontelles severely. + +"I am very glad of it," remarked the Vicar complacently. + +I had told my old friend nothing of what concerned Barbara; the secret +was not mine; therefore he had nothing against M. de Fontelles; yet it +seemed as though a good quarrel could be found on the score of general +principles. It is strange how many men give their heads for them and how +few can give a reason; but God provides every man with a head, and since +the stock of brains will not supply all, we draw lots for a share in it. +Yes, a pretty quarrel promised; but a moment later Fontelles, seeing no +prospect of sport in falling out with an old man of sacred profession, +and amused, in spite of his principles, by the Vicar's whimsical talk, +chose to laugh rather than to storm, and said with a chuckle: + +"Well, kings are like other men." + +"Very like," agreed the Vicar. "In what can I serve you, sir?" + +"I seek Mr Simon Dale," answered Fontelles. + +"Ah, Simon! Poor Simon! What would you with the lad, sir?" + +"I will tell that to him. Why do you call him poor?" + +"He has been deluded by a high-sounding prophecy, and it has come to +little." The Vicar shook his head in gentle regret. + +"He is no worse off, sir, than a man who marries," said Fontelles with a +smile. + +"Nor, it may be, than one who is born," said the Vicar, sighing. + +"Nor even than one who dies," hazarded the Frenchman. + +"Sir, sir, let us not be irreligious," implored the Vicar, smiling. + +The quarrel was most certainly over. Fontelles sat down by the Vicar's +side. + +"Yet, sir," said he, "God made the world." + +"It is full as good a world as we deserve," said the Vicar. + +"He might well have made us better, sir." + +"There are very few of us who truly wish it," the Vicar replied. "A man +hugs his sin." + +"The embrace, sir, is often delightful." + +"I must not understand you," said the Vicar. + +Fontelles' business was proceeding but slowly. A man on an errand should +not allow himself to talk about the universe. But he was recalled to his +task a moment later by the sight of my figure a quarter of a mile away +along the road. With an eager exclamation he pointed his finger at me, +lifted his hat to the Vicar, and rushed off in pursuit. The Vicar, who +had not taken his thumb from his page, opened his book again, observing +to himself, "A gentleman of some parts, I think." + +His quarrel with the Vicar had evaporated in the mists of speculation; +Fontelles had no mind to lose his complaint against me in any such +manner, but he was a man of ceremony and must needs begin again with me +much as he had with the Vicar. Thus obtaining my opportunity, I cut +across his preface, saying brusquely: + +"Well, I am glad that it is the King's employment and not M. de +Perrencourt's." + +He flushed red. + +"We know what we know, sir," said he. "If you have anything to say +against M. de Perrencourt, consider me as his friend. Did you cry out to +me as I rode last night?" + +"Why, yes, and I was a fool there. As for M. de Perrencourt----" + +"If you speak of him, speak with respect, sir. You know of whom you +speak." + +"Very well. Yet I have held a pistol to his head," said I, not, I +confess, without natural pride. + +Fontelles started, then laughed scornfully. + +"When he and Mistress Quinton and I were in a boat together," I pursued. +"The quarrel then was which of us should escort the lady, he or I, and +whether to Calais or to England. And although I should have been her +husband had we gone to Calais, yet I brought her here." + +"You're pleased to talk in riddles." + +"They're no harder to understand than your errand is to me, sir," I +retorted. + +He mastered his anger with a strong effort, and in a few words told me +his errand, adding that by Carford's advice he came to me. + +"For I am told, sir, that you have some power with the lady." + +I looked full and intently in his face. He met my gaze unflinchingly. +There was a green bank by the roadside; I seated myself; he would not +sit, but stood opposite to me. + +"I will tell you, sir, the nature of the errand on which you come," said +I, and started on the task with all the plainness of language that the +matter required and my temper enjoyed. + +He heard me without a word, with hardly a movement of his body; his eyes +never left mine all the while I was speaking. I think there was a +sympathy between us, so that soon I knew that he was honest, while he +did not doubt my truth. His face grew hard and stern as he listened; he +perceived now the part he had been set to play. He asked me but one +question when I had ended: + +"My Lord Carford knew all this?" + +"Yes, all of it," said I. "He was privy to all that passed." + +Engaged in talk, we had not noticed the Vicar's approach. He was at my +elbow before I saw him; the large book was under his arm. Fontelles +turned to him with a bow. + +"Sir," said he, "you were right just now." + +"Concerning the prophecy, sir?" + +"No, concerning the employment of kings," answered M. de Fontelles. Then +he said to me, "We will meet again, before I take my leave of your +village." With this he set off at a round pace down the road. I did not +doubt that he went to seek Mistress Barbara and ask her pardon. I let +him go; he would not hurt her now. I rose myself from the green bank, +for I also had work to do. + +"Will you walk with me, Simon?" asked the Vicar. + +"Your pardon, sir, but I am occupied." + +"Will it not wait?" + +"I do not desire that it should." + +For now that Fontelles was out of the way, Carford alone remained. +Barbara had not sent for me, but still I served her, and to some profit. + +It was now afternoon and I set out at once on my way to the Manor. I did +not know what had passed between Barbara and Carford, nor how his +passion had been stirred by her avowal of love for me, but I conjectured +that on learning how his plan of embroiling me with Fontelles had +failed, he would lose no time in making another effort. + +Fontelles must have walked briskly, for I, although I did not loiter on +the road, never came in sight of him, and the long avenue was empty when +I passed the gates. It is strange that it did not occur to my mind that +the clue to the Frenchman's haste was to be found in his last question; +no doubt he would make his excuses to Mistress Quinton in good time, but +it was not that intention which lent his feet wings. His errand was the +same as my own; he sought Carford, not Barbara, even as I. He found what +he sought, I what I did not seek, but what, once found, I could not pass +by. + +She was walking near the avenue, but on the grass behind the trees. I +caught a glimpse of her gown through the leaves and my quick steps were +stayed as though by one of the potent spells that the Vicar loved to +read about. For a moment or two I stood there motionless; then I turned +and walked slowly towards her. She saw me a few yards off, and it seemed +as though she would fly. But in the end she faced me proudly; her eyes +were very sad and I thought that she had been weeping; as I approached +she thrust something--it looked like a letter--into the bosom of her +gown, as if in terror lest I should see it. I made her a low bow. + +"I trust, madame," said I, "that my lady mends?" + +"I thank you, yes, although slowly." + +"And that you have taken no harm from your journey?" + +"I thank you, none." + +It was strange, but there seemed no other topic in earth or heaven; for +I looked first at earth and then at heaven, and in neither place found +any. + +"I am seeking my Lord Carford," I said at last. + +I knew my error as soon as I had spoken. She would bid me seek Carford +without delay and protest that the last thing in her mind was to detain +me. I cursed myself for an awkward fool. But to my amazement she did +nothing of what I looked for, but cried out in great agitation and, as +it seemed, fear: + +"You mustn't see Lord Carford." + +"Why not?" I asked. "He won't hurt me." Or at least he should not, if my +sword could stop his. + +"It is not that. It is--it is not that," she murmured, and flushed red. + +"Well, then, I will seek him." + +"No, no, no," cried Barbara in a passion that fear--surely it was that +and nothing else--made imperious. I could not understand her, for I knew +nothing of the confession which she had made, but would not for the +world should reach my ears. Yet it was not very likely that Carford +would tell me, unless his rage carried him away. + +"You are not so kind as to shield me from Lord Carford's wrath?" I asked +rather scornfully. + +"No," she said, persistently refusing to meet my eyes. + +"What is he doing here?" I asked. + +"He desires to conduct me to my father." + +"My God, you won't go with him?" + +For the fraction of a moment her dark eyes met mine, then turned away in +confusion. + +"I mean," said I, "is it wise to go with him?" + +"Of course you meant that," murmured Barbara. + +"M. de Fontelles will trouble you no more," I remarked, in a tone as +calm as though I stated the price of wheat; indeed much calmer than +such a vital matter was wont to command at our village inn. + +"What?" she cried. "He will not----?" + +"He didn't know the truth. I have told him. He is an honourable +gentleman." + +"You've done that also, Simon?" She came a step nearer me. + +"It was nothing to do," said I. Barbara fell back again. + +"Yet I am obliged to you," said she. I bowed with careful courtesy. + +Why tell these silly things. Every man has such in his life. Yet each +counts his own memory a rare treasure, and it will not be denied +utterance. + +"I had best seek my Lord Carford," said I, more for lack of another +thing to say than because there was need to say that. + +"I pray you----" cried Barbara, again in a marked agitation. + +It was a fair soft evening; a breeze stirred the tree-tops, and I could +scarce tell when the wind whispered and when Barbara spoke, so like were +the caressing sounds. She was very different from the lady of our +journey, yet like to her who had for a moment spoken to me from her +chamber-door at Canterbury. + +"You haven't sent for me," I said, in a low voice. "I suppose you have +no need of me?" + +She made me no answer. + +"Why did you fling my guinea in the sea?" I said, and paused. + +"Why did you use me so on the way?" I asked. + +"Why haven't you sent for me?" I whispered. + +She seemed to have no answer for any of these questions. There was +nothing in her eyes now save the desire of escape. Yet she did not +dismiss me, and without dismissal I would not go. I had forgotten +Carford and the angry Frenchman, my quarrel and her peril; the questions +I had put to her summed up all life now held. + +Suddenly she put her hand to her bosom, and drew out that same piece of +paper which I had seen her hide there. Before my eyes she read, or +seemed to read, something that was in it; then she shut her hand on it. +In a moment I was by her, very close. I looked full in her eyes, and +they fled behind covering lids; the little hand, tightly clenched, hung +by her side. What had I to lose? Was I not already banned for +forwardness? I would be forward still, and justify the sentence by an +after-crime. I took the hanging hand in both of mine. She started, and I +loosed it; but no rebuke came, and she did not fly. The far-off stir of +coming victory moved in my blood; not yet to win, but now to know that +win you will sends through a man an exultation, more sweet because it is +still timid. I watched her face--it was very pale--and again took her +hand. The lids of her eyes rose now an instant, and disclosed entreaty. +I was ruthless; our hearts are strange, and cruelty or the desire of +mastery mingled with love in my tightened grasp. One by one I bent her +fingers back; the crushed paper lay in a palm that was streaked to red +and white. With one hand still I held hers, with the other I spread out +the paper. "You mustn't read it," she murmured. "Oh, you mustn't read +it." I paid no heed, but held it up. A low exclamation of wonder broke +from me. The scrawl that I had seen at Canterbury now met me again, +plain and unmistakable in its laborious awkwardness. "In pay for your +dagger," it had said before. Were five words the bounds of Nell's +accomplishment? She had written no more now. Yet before she had seemed +to say much in that narrow limit; and much she said now. + +There was long silence between us; my eyes were intent on her veiled +eyes. + +"You needed this to tell you?" I said at last. + +"You loved her, Simon." + +I would not allow the plea. Shall not a thing that has become out of all +reason to a man's own self thereby blazon its absurdity to the whole +world? + +"So long ago!" I cried scornfully. + +"Nay, not so long ago," she murmured, with a note of resentment in her +voice. + +Even then we might have fallen out; we were in an ace of it, for I most +brutally put this question: + +"You waited here for me to pass?" + +I would have given my ears not to have said it; what availed that? A +thing said is a thing done, and stands for ever amid the irrevocable. +For an instant her eyes flashed in anger; then she flushed suddenly, her +lips trembled, her eyes grew dim, yet through the dimness mirth peeped +out. + +"I dared not hope you'd pass," she whispered. + +"I am the greatest villain in the world!" I cried. "Barbara, you had no +thought that I should pass!" + +Again came silence. Then I spoke, and softly: + +"And you--is it long since you----?" + +She held out her hands towards me, and in an instant was in my arms. +First she hid her face, but then drew herself back as far as the circle +of my arm allowed. Her dark eyes met mine full and direct in a +confession that shamed me but shamed her no more; her shame was +swallowed in the sweet pride of surrender. + +"Always," said she, "always; from the first through all; always, +always." It seemed that though she could not speak that word enough. + +In truth I could scarcely believe it; save when I looked in her eyes, I +could not believe it. + +"But I wouldn't tell you," she said. "I swore you should never know. +Simon, do you remember how you left me?" + +It seemed that I must play penitent now. + +"I was too young to know----" I began. + +"I was younger and not too young," she cried. "And all through those +days at Dover I didn't know. And when we were together I didn't know. +Ah, Simon, when I flung your guinea in the sea, you must have known!" + +"On my faith, no," I laughed. "I didn't see the love in that, +sweetheart." + +"I'm glad there was no woman there to tell you what it meant," said +Barbara. "And even at Canterbury I didn't know. Simon, what brought you +to my door that night?" + +I answered her plainly, more plainly than I could at any other time, +more plainly, it may be, than even then I should: + +"She bade me follow her, and I followed her so far." + +"You followed her?" + +"Ay. But I heard your voice through the door, and stopped." + +"You stopped for my voice; what did I say?" + +"You sung how a lover had forsaken his love. And I heard and stayed." + +"Ah, why didn't you tell me then?" + +"I was afraid, sweetheart." + +"Of what? Of what?" + +"Why, of you. You had been so cruel." + +Barbara's head, still strained far as could be from mine, now drew +nearer by an ace, and then she launched at me the charge of most +enormity, the indictment that justified all my punishment. + +"You had kissed her before my eyes, here, sir, where we are now, in my +own Manor Park," said Barbara. + +I took my arms from about her, and fell humbly on my knee. + +"May I kiss so much as your hand?" said I in utter abasement. + +She put it suddenly, eagerly, hurriedly to my lips. + +"Why did she write to me?" she whispered. + +"Nay, love, I don't know." + +"But I know. Simon, she loves you." + +"It would afford no reason if she did. And I think----" + +"It would and she does. Simon, of course she does." + +"I think rather that she was sorry for----" + +"Not for me!" cried Barbara with great vehemence. "I will not have her +sorry for me!" + +"For you!" I exclaimed in ridicule. (It does not matter what I had been +about to say before.) "For you! How should she? She wouldn't dare!" + +"No," said Barbara. One syllable can hold a world of meaning. + +"A thousand times, no!" cried I. + +The matter was thus decided. Yet now, in quiet blood and in the secrecy +of my own soul, shall I ask wherefore the letter came from Mistress +Gwyn, to whom the shortest letter was no light matter, and to let even +a humble man go some small sacrifice? And why did it come to Barbara and +not to me? And why did it not say "Simon, she loves you," rather than +the words that I now read, Barbara permitting me: "Pretty fool, he loves +you." Let me not ask; not even now would Barbara bear to think that it +was written in pity for her. + +"Yes, she pitied you and so she wrote; and she loves you," said Barbara. + +I let it pass. Shall a man never learn wisdom? + +"Tell me now," said I, "why I may not see Carford?" + +Her lips curved in a smile; she held her head high, and her eyes were +triumphant. + +"You may see Lord Carford as soon as you will, Simon," said she. + +"But a few minutes ago----" I began, much puzzled. + +"A few minutes!" cried Barbara reproachfully. + +"A whole lifetime ago, sweetheart!" + +"And shall that make no changes?" + +"A whole lifetime ago you were ready to die sooner than let me see him." + +"Simon, you're very----He knew, I told him." + +"You told him?" I cried. "Before you told me?" + +"He asked me before," said Barbara. + +I did not grudge her that retort; every jot of her joy was joy to me, +and her triumph my delight. + +"How did I dare to tell him?" she asked herself softly. "Ah, but how +have I contrived not to tell all the world? How wasn't it plain in my +face?" + +"It was most profoundly hidden," I assured her. Indeed from me it had +been; but Barbara's wit had yet another answer. + +"You were looking in another face," said she. Then, as the movement of +my hands protested, remorse seized on her, and catching my hand she +cried impulsively, "I'll never speak of it again, Simon." + +Now I was not so much ashamed of the affair as to demand that utter +silence on it; in which point lies a difference between men and women. +To have wandered troubles our consciences little, when we have come to +the right path again; their pride stands so strong in constancy as +sometimes (I speak in trembling) even to beget an oblivion of its +falterings and make what could not have been as if it had not. But now +was not the moment for excuse, and I took my pardon with all gratitude +and with full allowance of my offence's enormity. + +Then we determined that Carford must immediately be sought, and set out +for the house with intent to find him. But our progress was very slow, +and the moon rose in the skies before we stepped out on to the avenue +and came in sight of the house and the terrace. There was so much to +tell, so much that had to slough off its old seeming and take on new and +radiant apparel--things that she had understood and not I, that I had +caught and she missed, wherein both of us had gone astray most +lamentably and now stood aghast at our own sightlessness. Therefore +never were our feet fairly in movement towards the house but a +sudden--"Do you remember?" gave them pause again: then came shame that I +had forgotten, or indignation that Barbara should be thought to have +forgotten, and in both of these cases the need for expiation, and so +forth. The moon was high in heaven when we stepped into the avenue and +came in sight of the terrace. + +On the instant, with a low cry of surprise and alarm, Barbara caught me +by the arm, while she pointed to the terrace. The sight might well turn +us even from our engrossing interchange of memories. There were four men +on the terrace, their figures standing out dense and black against the +old grey walls, which seemed white in the moonlight. Two stood impassive +and motionless, with hands at their sides; at their feet lay what seemed +bundles of clothes. The other two were in their shirts; they were +opposite one another, and their swords were in their hands. I could not +doubt the meaning; while love held me idle, anger had lent Fontelles +speed; while I sought to perfect my joy, he had been hot to avenge his +wounded honour. I did not know who were the two that watched unless they +were servants; Fontelles' fierce mood would not stand for the niceties +of etiquette. Now I could recognise the Frenchman's bearing and even see +Carford's face, although distance hid its expression. I was amazed and +at a loss what to do. How could I stop them and by what right? But then +Barbara gave a little sob and whispered: + +"My mother lies sick in the house." + +It was enough to loose my bound limbs. I sprang forward and set out at a +run. I had not far to go and lost no time; but I would not cry out lest +I might put one off his guard and yet not arrest the other's stroke. For +the steel flashed, and they fought, under the eyes of the quiet +servants. I was near to them now and already wondering how best to +interpose, when, in an instant, the Frenchman lunged, Carford cried out, +his sword dropped from his hand, and he fell heavily on the gravel of +the terrace. The servants rushed forward and knelt down beside him. M. +de Fontelles did not leave his place, but stood, with the point of his +naked sword on the ground, looking at the man who had put an affront on +him and whom he had now chastised. The sudden change that took me from +love's pastimes to a scene so stern deprived me of speech for a moment. +I ran to Fontelles and faced him, panting but saying nothing. He turned +his eyes on me: they were calm, but shone still with the heat of contest +and the sternness of resentment. He raised his sword and pointed with it +towards where Carford lay. + +"My lord there," said he, "knew a thing that hurt my honour, and did not +warn me of it. He knew that I was made a tool and did not tell me. He +knew that I was used for base purposes and sought to use me for his own +also. He has his recompense." + +Then he stepped across to where the green bank sloped down to the +terrace and, falling on one knee, wiped his blade on the grass. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIV + +A COMEDY BEFORE THE KING + + +On the next day but one M. de Fontelles and I took the road for London +together. Carford lay between life and death (for the point had pierced +his lung) at the inn to which we had carried him; he could do no more +harm and occasion us no uneasiness. On the other hand, M. de Fontelles +was anxious to seek out the French Ambassador, with whom he was on +friendly terms, and enlist his interest, first to excuse the abandonment +of his mission, and in the second place to explain the circumstances of +his duel with Carford. In this latter task he asked my aid since I +alone, saving the servants, had been a witness of the encounter, and +Fontelles, recognising (now that his rage was past) that he had been +wrong to force his opponent to a meeting under such conditions, prayed +my testimony to vindicate his reputation. I could not deny him, and +moreover, though it grieved me to be absent from Quinton Manor, I felt +that Barbara's interests and my own might be well served by a journey to +London. No news had come from my lord, and I was eager to see him and +bring him over to my side; the disposition of the King was also a matter +of moment and of uncertainty; would he still seek to gain for M. de +Perrencourt what that exacting gentleman required, or would he now +abandon the struggle in which his instruments had twice failed him? His +Majesty should now be returning from Dover, and I made up my mind to go +to Court and learn from him the worst and the best of what I might look +for. Nay, I will not say that the pure desire to see him face to face +had not weight with me; for I believed that he had a liking for me, and +that I should obtain from him better terms in my own person than if my +cause were left in the hands of those who surrounded him. + +When we were come to London (and I pray that it be observed and set down +to my credit that, thinking there was enough of love-making in this +history, I have spared any narrative of my farewell to Barbara, although +on my soul it was most moving) M. de Fontelles at once sought the +Ambassador's, taking my promise to come there as soon as his summons +called, while I betook myself to the lodging which I had shared with +Darrell before we went to Dover. I hoped to find him there and renew our +friendship; my grudge was for his masters, and I am not for making an +enemy of a man who does what his service demands of him. I was not +disappointed; Robert opened the door to me, and Darrell himself sprang +to his feet in amazement at the sound of my name. I laughed heartily +and flung myself into a chair, saying: + +"How goes the Treaty of Dover?" + +He ran to the door and tried it; it was close-shut. + +"The less you say of that, the safer you'll be," said he. + +"Oho," thought I, "then I'm not going to market empty-handed! If I want +to buy, it seems that I have something to sell." And smiling very +good-humouredly I said: + +"What, is there a secret in it?" + +Darrell came up to me and held out his hand. + +"On my life," said he, "I didn't know you were interested in the lady, +Simon, or I wouldn't have taken a hand in the affair." + +"On my life," said I, "I'm obliged to you. What of Mlle. de +Quérouaille?" + +"She has returned with Madame." + +"But will return without Madame?" + +"Who knows?" he asked with a smile that he could not smother. + +"God and the King," said I. "What of M. de Perrencourt?" + +"Your tongue's hung so loose, Simon, that one day it'll hang you tight." + +"Enough, enough. What then of Phineas Tate?" + +"He is on board ship on his way to the plantations. He'll find plenty to +preach to there." + +"What? Why, there's never a Papist sent now! He'll mope to death. What +of the Duke of Monmouth?" + +"He has found out Carford." + +"He has? Then he has found out the Secretary also?" + +"There is indeed a distance between his Grace and my lord," Darrell +admitted. + +"When rogues fall out! A fine saying that, Darrell. And what of the +King?" + +"My lord tells me that the King swears he won't sleep o' nights till he +has laid a certain troublesome fellow by the heels." + +"And where is that same troublesome fellow?" + +"So near me that, did I serve the King as I ought, Robert would now be +on his way with news for my Lord Arlington." + +"Then His Majesty's sentiments are mighty unkind towards me? Be at +peace, Darrell. I am come to London to seek him." + +"To seek him? Are you mad? You'll follow Phineas Tate!" + +"But I have a boon to ask of the King. I desire him to use his good +offices with my Lord Quinton. For I am hardly a fit match for my lord's +daughter, and yet I would make her my wife." + +"I wonder," observed Darrell, "that you, Simon, who, being a heretic, +must go to hell when you die, are not more careful of your life." + +Then we both fell to laughing. + +"Another thing brings me to London," I pursued. "I must see Mistress +Gwyn." + +He raised his hands over his head. + +"Fill up the measure," said he. "The King knows you came to London with +her and is more enraged at that than all the rest." + +"Does he know what happened on the journey?" + +"Why, no, Simon," smiled Darrell. "The matter is just that. The King +does not know what happened on the journey." + +"He must learn it," I declared. "To-morrow I'll seek Mistress Gwyn. You +shall send Robert to take her pleasure as to the hour when I shall wait +on her." + +"She's in a fury with the King, as he with her." + +"On what account?" + +"Already, friend Simon, you're too wise." + +"By Heaven, I know! It's because Mlle. de Quérouaille is so good a +Catholic?" + +Darrell had no denial ready. He shrugged his shoulders and sat silent. + +Now although I had told Barbara that it was my intention to ask an +audience from the King, I had not disclosed my purpose of seeing +Mistress Nell. Yet it was firm in my mind--for courtesy's sake. Of a +truth she had done me great service. Was I to take it as though it were +my right, with never a word of thanks? Curiosity also drew me, and that +attraction which she never lost for me, nor, as I believe, for any man +whose path she crossed. I was sure of myself, and did not fear to go. +Yet memory was not dead in me, and I went in a species of excitement, +the ghost of old feelings dead but not forgotten. When a man has loved, +and sees her whom he loves no more, he will not be indifferent; angry he +may be, or scornful, amused he may be, and he should be tender; but it +will not be as though he had not loved. Yet I had put a terrible affront +on her, and it might be that she would not receive me. + +As I live, I believe that but for one thing she would not. That turned +her, by its appeal to her humour. When I came to the house in Chelsea, I +was conducted into a small ante-chamber, and there waited long. There +were voices speaking in the next room, but I could not hear their +speech. Yet I knew Nell's voice; it had for me always--ay, still--echoes +of the past. But now there was something which barred its way to my +heart. + +The door in front of me opened, and she was in the room with me. There +she was, curtseying low in mock obeisance and smiling whimsically. + +"A bold man!" she cried. "What brings you here? Art not afraid?" + +"Afraid that I am not welcome, yet not afraid to come." + +"A taunt wrapped in civility! I do not love it." + +"Mistress Nell, I came to thank you for the greatest kindness----" + +"If it be kindness to help you to a fool!" said Mistress Nell. "What, +besides your thanks to me, brings you to town?" + +I must forgive her the style in which she spoke of Barbara. I answered +with a smile: + +"I must see the King. I don't know his purposes about me. Besides, I +desire that he should help me to my--fool." + +"If you're wise you'll keep out of his sight." Then she began to laugh. +"Nay, but I don't know," said she. Then with a swift movement she was by +me, catching at my coat and turning up to me a face full of merriment. +"Shall we play a comedy?" she asked. + +"As you will. What shall be my part?" + +"I'll give you a pretty part, Simon. Your face is very smooth; nay, do +not fear, I remember so well that I needn't try again. You shall be this +French lady of whom they speak." + +"I the French lady! God forbid!" + +"Nay, but you shall, Simon. And I'll be the King. Nay, I say, don't be +afraid. I swear you tried to run away then!" + +"Is it not prescribed as the best cure for temptation?" + +"Alas, you're not tempted!" she said with a pout. "But there's another +part in the comedy." + +"Besides the King and Mademoiselle?" + +"Why, yes--and a great part." + +"Myself by chance?" + +"You! No! What should you do in the play? It is I--I myself." + +"True, true. I forgot you, Mistress Nell." + +"You did forget me, Simon. But I must spare you, for you will have heard +that same charge of fickleness from Mistress Quinton, and it is hard to +hear it from two at once. But who shall play my part?" + +"Indeed I can think of none equal to it." + +"The King shall play it!" she cried with a triumphant laugh, and stood +opposite to me, the embodiment of merry triumph. "Do you catch the plot +of my piece, Simon?" + +"I am very dull," I confessed. + +"It's your condition, not your nature, Simon," Nell was so good as to +say. "A man in love is always dull, save to one woman, and she's +stark-mad. Come, can you feign an inclination for me, or have you forgot +the trick?" + +At the moment she spoke the handle of the door turned. Again it turned +and was rattled. + +"I locked it," whispered Nell, her eyes full of mischief. + +Again, and most impatiently, the handle was twisted to and fro. + +"Pat, pat, how pat he comes!" she whispered. + +A last loud rattle followed, then a voice cried in anger, "Open it, I +bid you open it." + +"God help us!" I exclaimed in sad perplexity. "It's the King?" + +"Yes, it's the King, and, Simon, the piece begins. Look as terrified as +you can. It's the King." + +"Open, I say, open!" cried the King, with a thundering knock. + +I understood now that he had been in the other room, and that she had +left his society to come to me; but I understood only dimly why she had +locked the door, and why she now was so slow in opening it. Yet I set my +wits to work, and for further aid watched her closely. She was worth the +watching. Without aid of paints or powders, of scene or theatre, she +transformed her air, her manner, ay, her face also. Alarm and terror +showed in her eyes as she stole in fearful fashion across the room, +unlocked the door, and drew it open, herself standing by it, stiff and +rigid, in what seemed shame or consternation. The agitation she feigned +found some reality in me. I was not ready for the thing, although I had +been warned by the voice outside. When the King stood in the doorway, I +wished myself a thousand miles away. + +The King was silent for several moments; he seemed to me to repress a +passion which, let loose, might hurry him to violence. When he spoke, he +was smiling ironically, and his voice was calm. + +"How comes this gentleman here?" he asked. + +The terror that Nell had so artfully assumed she appeared now, with +equal art, to defy or conquer. She answered him with angry composure. + +"Why shouldn't Mr. Dale be here, Sir?" she asked. "Am I to see no +friends? Am I to live all alone?" + +"Mr Dale is no friend of mine----" + +"Sir----" I began, but his raised hand stayed me. + +"And you have no need of friends when I am here." + +"Your Majesty," said she, "came to say farewell; Mr Dale was but half an +hour too soon." + +This answer showed me the game. If he had come to bid her farewell--why, +I understood now the parts in the comedy. If he left her for the +Frenchwoman, why should she not turn to Simon Dale? The King bit his +lip. He also understood her answer. + +"You lose no time, mistress," he said, with an uneasy laugh. + +"I've lost too much already," she flashed back. + +"With me?" he asked, and was answered by a sweeping curtsey and a +scornful smile. + +"You're a bold man, Mr Dale," said he. "I knew it before, and am now +most convinced of it." + +"I didn't expect to meet your Majesty here," said I sincerely. + +"I don't mean that. You're bold to come here at all." + +"Mistress Gwyn is very kind to me," said I. I would play my part and +would not fail her, and I directed a timid yet amorous glance at Nell. +The glance reached Nell, but on its way it struck the King. He was +patient of rivals, they said, but he frowned now and muttered an oath. +Nell broke into sudden laughter. It sounded forced and unreal. It was +meant so to sound. + +"We're old friends," said she, "Simon and I. We were friends before I +was what I am. We're still friends, now that I am what I am. Mr Dale +escorted me from Dover to London." + +"He is an attentive squire," sneered the King. + +"He hardly left my side," said Nell. + +"You were hampered with a companion?" + +"Of a truth I hardly noticed it," cried Nelly with magnificent +falsehood. I seconded her efforts with a shrug and a cunning smile. + +"I begin to understand," said the King. "And when my farewell has been +said, what then?" + +"I thought that it had been said half an hour ago," she exclaimed. +"Wasn't it?" + +"You were anxious to hear it, and so seemed to hear it," said he +uneasily. + +She turned to me with a grave face and tender eyes. + +"Didn't I tell you here, just now, how the King parted from me?" + +I was to take the stage now, it seemed. + +"Ay, you told me," said I, playing the agitated lover as best I could. +"You told me that--that--but I cannot speak before His Majesty." And I +ended in a most rare confusion. + +"Speak, sir," he commanded harshly and curtly. + +"You told me," said I in low tones, "that the King left you. And I said +I was no King, but that you need not be left alone." My eyes fell to the +ground in pretended fear. + +The swiftest glance from Nell applauded me. I would have been sorry for +him and ashamed for myself, had I not remembered M. de Perrencourt and +our voyage to Calais. In that thought I steeled myself to hardness and +bade conscience be still. + +A long silence followed. Then the King drew near to Nell. With a rare +stroke of skill she seemed to shrink away from him and edged towards me, +as though she would take refuge in my arms from his anger or his +coldness. + +"Come, I've never hurt you, Nelly!" said he. + +Alas, that art should outstrip nature! Never have I seen portrayed so +finely the resentment of a love that, however greatly wounded, is still +love, that even in turning away longs to turn back, that calls even in +forbidding, and in refusing breathes the longing to assent. Her feet +still came towards me, but her eyes were on the King. + +"You sent me away," she whispered as she moved towards me and looked +where the King was. + +"I was in a temper," said he. Then he turned to me, saying "Pray leave +us, sir." + +I take it that I must have obeyed, but Nell sprang suddenly forward, +caught my hand, and holding it faced the King. + +"He shan't go; or, if you send him away, I'll go with him." + +The King frowned heavily, but did not speak. She went on, choking down a +sob--ay, a true sob; the part she played moved her, and beneath her +acting there was a reality. She fought for her power over him and now +was the test of it. + +"Will you take my friendships from me as well as my----? Oh, I won't +endure it!" + +She had given him his hint in the midst of what seemed her greatest +wrath. His frown persisted, but a smile bent his lips again. + +"Mr Dale," said he, "it is hard to reason with a lady before another +gentleman. I was wrong to bid you go. But will you suffer me to retire +to that room again?" + +I bowed low. + +"And," he went on, "will you excuse our hostess' presence for awhile?" + +I bowed again. + +"No, I won't go with you," cried Nell. + +"Nay, but, Nelly, you will," said he, smiling now. "Come, I'm old and +mighty ugly, and Mr Dale is a strapping fellow. You must be kind to the +unfortunate, Nelly." + +She was holding my hand still. The King took hers. Very slowly and +reluctantly she let him draw her away. I did what seemed best to do; I +sighed very heavily and plaintively, and bowed in sad submission. + +"Wait till we return," said the King, and his tone was kind. + +They passed out together, and I, laughing yet ashamed to laugh, flung +myself in a chair. She would not keep him for herself alone; nay, as all +the world knows, she made but a drawn battle of it with the Frenchwoman; +but the disaster and utter defeat which had threatened her she had +averted, jealousy had achieved what love could not, he would not let her +go now, when another's arms seemed open for her. To this success I had +helped her. On my life I was glad to have helped her. But I did not yet +see how I had helped my own cause. + +I was long in the room alone, and though the King had bidden me await +his return, he did not come again. Nell came alone, laughing, radiant +and triumphant; she caught me by both hands, and swiftly, suddenly, +before I knew, kissed me on the cheek. Nay, come, let me be honest; I +knew a short moment before, but on my honour I could not avoid it +courteously. + +"We've won," she cried. "I have what I desire, and you, Simon, are to +seek him at Whitehall. He has forgiven you all your sins and--yes, he'll +give you what favour you ask. He has pledged his word to me." + +"Does he know what I shall ask?" + +"No, no, not yet. Oh, that I could see his face! Don't spare him, +Simon. Tell him--why, tell him all the truth--every word of it, the +stark bare truth." + +"How shall I say it?" + +"Why, that you love, and have ever loved, and will ever love Mistress +Barbara Quinton, and that you love not, and will never love, and have +never loved, no, nor cared the price of a straw for Eleanor Gwyn." + +"Is that the whole truth?" said I. + +She was holding my hands still; she pressed them now and sighed lightly. + +"Why, yes, it's the whole truth. Let it be the whole truth, Simon. What +matters that a man once lived when he's dead, or once loved when he +loves no more?" + +"Yet I won't tell him more than is true," said I. + +"You'll be ashamed to say anything else?" she whispered, looking up into +my face. + +"Now, by Heaven, I'm not ashamed," said I, and I kissed her hand. + +"You're not?" + +"No, not a whit. I think I should be ashamed, had my heart never strayed +to you." + +"Ah, but you say 'strayed'!" + +I made her no answer, but asked forgiveness with a smile. She drew her +hand sharply away, crying, + +"Go your ways, Simon Dale, go your ways; go to your Barbara, and your +Hatchstead, and your dulness, and your righteousness." + +"We part in kindness?" I urged. + +For a moment I thought she would answer peevishly, but the mood passed, +and she smiled sincerely on me as she replied: + +"Ay, in all loving-kindness, Simon; and when you hear the sour gird at +me, say--why, say, Simon, that even a severe gentleman, such as you are, +once found some good in Nelly. Will you say that for me?" + +"With all my heart." + +"Nay, I care not what you say," she burst out, laughing again. "Begone, +begone! I swore to the King that I would speak but a dozen words to you. +Begone!" + +I bowed and turned towards the door. She flew to me suddenly, as if to +speak, but hesitated. I waited for her; at last she spoke, with eyes +averted and an unusual embarrassment in her air. + +"If--if you're not ashamed to speak my name to Mistress Barbara, tell +her I wish her well, and pray her to think as kindly of me as she can." + +"She has much cause to think kindly," said I. + +"And will therefore think unkindly! Simon, I bid you begone." + +She held out her hand to me, and I kissed it again. + +"This time we part for good and all," said she. "I've loved you, and +I've hated you, and I have nearly loved you. But it is nothing to be +loved by me, who love all the world." + +"Nay, it's something," said I. "Fare you well." + +I passed out, but turned to find her eyes on me. She was laughing and +nodding her head, swaying to and fro on her feet as her manner was. She +blew me a kiss from her lips. So I went, and my life knew her no more. + +But when the strict rail on sinners, I guard my tongue for the sake of +Nelly and the last kiss she gave me on my cheek. + + + + +CHAPTER XXV + +THE MIND OF M. DE FONTELLES + + +As I made my way through the Court nothing seemed changed; all was as I +had seen it when I came to lay down the commission that Mistress Gwyn +had got me. They were as careless, as merry, as shameless as before; the +talk then had been of Madame's coming, now it was of her going; they +talked of Dover and what had passed there, but the treaty was dismissed +with a shrug, and the one theme of interest, and the one subject of +wagers, was whether or how soon Mlle. de Quérouaille would return to the +shores and the monarch she had left. In me distaste now killed +curiosity; I pushed along as fast as the throng allowed me, anxious to +perform my task and be quit of them all as soon as I could. My part +there was behind me; the prophecy was fulfilled, and my ambitions +quenched. Yet I had a pleasure in the remaining scene of the comedy +which I was to play with the King; I was amused also to see how those +whom I knew to be in the confidence of the Duke of York and of Arlington +eyed me with mingled fear and wariness, and hid distrust under a most +deferential civility. They knew, it seemed, that I had guessed their +secrets. But I was not afraid of them, for I was no more their rival in +the field of intrigue or in their assault upon the King's favour. I +longed to say to them, "Be at peace. In an hour from now you will see my +face no more." + +The King sat in his chair, alone save for one gentleman who stood beside +him. I knew the Earl of Rochester well by repute, and had been before +now in the same company, although, as it chanced, I had never yet spoken +with him. I looked for the King's brother and for Monmouth, but neither +was to be seen. Having procured a gentleman to advise the King of my +presence, I was rewarded by being beckoned to approach immediately. But +when he had brought me there, he gave me no more than a smile, and, +motioning me to stand by him, continued his conversation with my Lord +Rochester and his caresses of the little dog on his lap. + +"In defining it as the device by which the weak intimidate the strong," +observed Rochester, "the philosopher declared the purpose of virtue +rather than its effect. For the strong are not intimidated, while the +weak, falling slaves to their own puppet, grow more helpless still." + +"It's a just retribution on them," said the King, "for having invented a +thing so tiresome." + +"In truth, Sir, all these things that make virtue are given a man for +his profit, and that he may not go empty-handed into the mart of the +world. He has stuff for barter; he can give honour for pleasure, +morality for money, religion for power." + +The King raised his brows and smiled again, but made no remark. +Rochester bowed courteously to me, as he added: + +"Is it not as I say, sir?" and awaited my reply. + +"It's better still, my lord," I answered. "For he can make these +bargains you speak of, and, by not keeping them, have his basket still +full for another deal." + +Again the King smiled as he patted his dog. + +"Very just, sir, very just," nodded Rochester. "Thus by breaking a +villainous bargain he is twice a villain, and preserves his reputation +to aid him in the more effectual cheating of his neighbour." + +"And the damning of his own soul," said the King softly. + +"Your Majesty is Defender of the Faith. I will not meddle with your high +office," said Rochester with a laugh. "For my own part I suffer from a +hurtful sincerity; being known for a rogue by all the town, I am become +the most harmless fellow in your Majesty's dominions. As Mr Dale here +says--I have the honour of being acquainted with your name, sir--my +basket is empty and no man will deal with me." + +"There are women left you," said the King. + +"It is more expense than profit," sighed the Earl. "Although indeed the +kind creatures will most readily give for nothing what is worth as +much." + +"So that the sum of the matter," said the King, "is that he who refuses +no bargain however iniquitous and performs none however binding----" + +"Is a king among men, Sir," interposed Rochester with a low bow, "even +as your Majesty is here in Whitehall." + +"And by the same title?" + +"Ay, the same Right Divine. What think you of my reasoning, Mr Dale?" + +"I do not know, my lord, whence you came by it, unless the Devil has +published a tract on the matter." + +"Nay, he has but circulated it among his friends," laughed Rochester. +"For he is in no need of money from the booksellers since he has a grant +from God of the customs of the world for his support." + +"The King must have the Customs," smiled Charles. "I have them here in +England. But the smugglers cheat me." + +"And the penitents him, Sir. Faith, these Holy Churches run queer +cargoes past his officers--or so they say;" and with another bow to the +King, and one of equal courtesy to me, he turned away and mingled in the +crowd that walked to and fro. + +The King sat some while silent, lazily pulling the dog's coat with his +fingers. Then he looked up at me. + +"Wild talk, Mr Dale," said he, "yet perhaps not all without a meaning." + +"There's meaning enough, Sir. It's not that I miss." + +"No, but perhaps you do. I have made many bargains; you don't praise all +of them?" + +"It's not for me to judge the King's actions." + +"I wish every man were as charitable, or as dutiful. But--shall I empty +my basket? You know of some of my bargains. The basket is not emptied +yet." + +I looked full in his face; he did not avoid my regard, but sat there +smiling in a bitter amusement. + +"You are the man of reservations," said he. "I remember them. Be at +peace and hold your place. For listen to me, Mr Dale." + +"I am listening to your Majesty's words." + +"It will be time enough for you to open your mouth when I empty my +basket." + +His words, and even more the tone in which he spoke and the significant +glance of his eyes, declared his meaning. The bargain that I knew of I +need not betray nor denounce till he fulfilled it. When would he fulfil +it? He would not empty his basket, but still have something to give when +he dealt with the King of France. I wondered that he should speak to me +so openly; he knew that I wondered, yet, though his smile was bitter, he +smiled still. + +I bowed to him and answered: + +"I am no talker, Sir, of matters too great for me." + +"That's well. I know you for a gentleman of great discretion, and I +desire to serve you. You have something to ask of me, Mr Dale?" + +"The smallest thing in the world for your Majesty, and the greatest for +me." + +"A pattern then that I wish all requests might follow. Let me hear it." + +"It is no more than your Majesty's favour for my efforts to win the +woman whom I love." + +He started a little, and for the first time in all the conversation +ceased to fondle the little dog. + +"The woman whom you love? Well, sir, and does she love you?" + +"She has told me so, Sir." + +"Then at least she wished you to believe it. Do I know this lady?" + +"Very well, sir," I answered in a very significant tone. + +He was visibly perturbed. A man come to his years will see a ready rival +in every youth, however little other attraction there may be. But +perhaps I had treated him too freely already; and now he used me well. I +would keep up the jest no longer. + +"Once, Sir," I said, "for a while I loved where the King loved, even as +I drank of his cup." + +"I know, Mr Dale. But you say 'once.'" + +"It is gone by, Sir." + +"But, yesterday?" he exclaimed abruptly. + +"She is a great comedian, Sir; but I fear I seconded her efforts badly." + +He did not answer for a moment, but began again to play with the dog. +Then raising his eyes to mine he said: + +"You were well enough; she played divinely, Mr Dale." + +"She played for life, Sir." + +"Ay, poor Nelly loves me," said he softly. "I had been cruel to her. But +I won't weary you with my affairs. What would you?" + +"Mistress Gwyn, Sir, has been very kind to me." + +"So I believe," remarked the King. + +"But my heart, Sir, is now and has been for long irrevocably set on +another." + +"On my faith, Mr Dale, and speaking as one man to another, I'm glad to +hear it. Was it so at Canterbury?" + +"More than ever before, Sir. For she was there and----" + +"I know she was there." + +"Nay, Sir, I mean the other, her whom I love, her whom I now woo. I mean +Mistress Barbara Quinton, Sir." + +The King looked down and frowned; he patted his dog, he looked up again, +frowning still. Then a queer smile bent his lips and he said in a voice +which was most grave, for all his smile, + +"You remember M. de Perrencourt?" + +"I remember M. de Perrencourt very well, Sir." + +"It was by his choice, not mine, Mr Dale, that you set out for Calais." + +"So I understood at the time, Sir." + +"And he is believed, both by himself and others, to choose his +men--perhaps you will allow me to say his instruments, Mr Dale--better +than any Prince in Christendom. So you would wed Mistress Quinton? Well, +sir, she is above your station." + +"I was to have been made her husband, Sir." + +"Nay, but she's above your station," he repeated, smiling at my retort, +but conceiving that it needed no answer. + +"She's not above your Majesty's persuasion, or, rather, her father is +not. She needs none." + +"You do not err in modesty, Mr Dale." + +"How should I, Sir, I who have drunk of the King's cup?" + +"So that we should be friends." + +"And known what the King hid?" + +"So that we must stand or fall together?" + +"And loved where the King loved?" + +He made no answer to that, but sat silent for a great while. I was +conscious that many eyes were on us, in wonder that I was so long with +him, in speculation on what our business might be and whence came the +favour that gained me such distinction. I paid little heed, for I was +seeking to follow the thoughts of the King and hoping that I had won him +to my side. I asked only leave to lead a quiet life with her whom I +loved, setting bounds at once to my ambition and to the plans which he +had made concerning her. Nay, I believe that I might have claimed some +hold over him, but I would not. A gentleman may not levy hush-money +however fair the coins seem in his eyes. Yet I feared that he might +suspect me, and I said: + +"To-day, I leave the town, Sir, whether I have what I ask of you or not; +and whether I have what I ask of you or not I am silent. If your Majesty +will not grant it me, yet, in all things that I may be, I am your loyal +subject." + +To all this--perhaps it rang too solemn, as the words of a young man are +apt to at the moments when his heart is moved--he answered nothing, but +looking up with a whimsical smile said, + +"Tell me now; how do you love this Mistress Quinton?" + +At this I fell suddenly into a fit of shame and bashful embarrassment. +The assurance that I had gained at Court forsook me, and I was +tongue-tied as any calf-lover. + +"I--I don't know," I stammered. + +"Nay, but I grow old. Pray tell me, Mr Dale," he urged, beginning to +laugh at my perturbation. + +For my life I could not; it seems to me that the more a man feels a +thing the harder it is for him to utter; sacred things are secret, and +the hymn must not be heard save by the deity. + +The King suddenly bent forward and beckoned. Rochester was passing by, +with him now was the Duke of Monmouth. They approached; I bowed low to +the Duke, who returned my salute most cavalierly. He had small reason +to be pleased with me, and his brow was puckered. The King seemed to +find fresh amusement in his son's bearing, but he made no remark on it, +and, addressing himself to Rochester, said: + +"Here, my lord, is a young gentleman much enamoured of a lovely and most +chaste maiden. I ask him what this love of his is--for my memory +fails--and behold he cannot tell me! In case he doesn't know what it is +that he feels, I pray you tell him." + +Rochester looked at me with an ironical smile. + +"Am I to tell what love is?" he asked. + +"Ay, with your utmost eloquence," answered the King, laughing still and +pinching his dog's ears. + +Rochester twisted his face in a grimace, and looked appealingly at the +King. + +"There's no escape; to-day I am a tyrant," said the King. + +"Hear then, youths," said Rochester, and his face was smoothed into a +pensive and gentle expression. "Love is madness and the only sanity, +delirium and the only truth; blindness and the only vision, folly and +the only wisdom. It is----" He broke off and cried impatiently, "I have +forgotten what it is." + +"Why, my lord, you never knew what it is," said the King. "Alone of us +here, Mr Dale knows, and since he cannot tell us the knowledge is lost +to the world. James, have you any news of my friend M. de Fontelles?" + +"Such news as your Majesty has," answered Monmouth. "And I hear that my +Lord Carford will not die." + +"Let us be as thankful as is fitting for that," said the King. "M. de +Fontelles sent me a very uncivil message; he is leaving England, and +goes, he tells me, to seek a King whom a gentleman may serve." + +"Is the gentleman about to kill himself, Sir?" asked Rochester with an +affected air of grave concern. + +"He's an insolent rascal," cried Monmouth angrily. "Will he go back to +France?" + +"Why, yes, in the end, when he has tried the rest of my brethren in +Europe. A man's King is like his nose; the nose may not be handsome, +James, but it's small profit to cut it off. That was done once, you +remember----" + +"And here is your Majesty on the throne," interposed Rochester with a +most loyal bow. + +"James," said the King, "our friend Mr Dale desires to wed Mistress +Barbara Quinton." + +Monmouth started violently and turned red. + +"His admiration for that lady," continued the King, "has been shared by +such high and honourable persons that I cannot doubt it to be well +founded. Shall he not then be her husband?" + +Monmouth's eyes were fixed on me; I met his glance with an easy smile. +Again I felt that I, who had worsted M. de Perrencourt, need not fear +the Duke of Monmouth. + +"If there be any man," observed Rochester, "who would love a lady who is +not a wife, and yet is fit to be his wife, let him take her, in Heaven's +name! For he might voyage as far in search of another like her as M. de +Fontelles must in his search for a Perfect King." + +"Shall he not have her, James?" asked the King of his son. + +Monmouth understood that the game was lost. + +"Ay, Sir, let him have her," he answered, mustering a smile. "And I hope +soon to see your Court graced by her presence." + +Well, at that, I, most inadvertently and by an error in demeanour which +I now deplore sincerely, burst into a short sharp laugh. The King turned +to me with raised eye-brows. + +"Pray let us hear the jest, Mr Dale," said he. + +"Why, Sir," I answered, "there is no jest. I don't know why I laughed, +and I pray your pardon humbly." + +"Yet there was something in your mind," the King insisted. + +"Then, Sir, if I must say it, it was no more than this; if I would not +be married in Calais, neither will I be married in Whitehall." + +There was a moment's silence. It was broken by Rochester. + +"I am dull," said he. "I don't understand that observation of Mr +Dale's." + +"That may well be, my lord," said Charles, and he turned to Monmouth, +smiling maliciously as he asked, "Are you as dull as my lord here, +James, or do you understand what Mr Dale would say?" + +Monmouth's mood hung in the balance between anger and amusement. I had +crossed and thwarted his fancy, but it was no more than a fancy. And I +had crossed and thwarted M. de Perrencourt's also; that was balm to his +wounds. I do not know that he could have done me harm, and it was as +much from a pure liking for him as from any fear of his disfavour that I +rejoiced when I saw his kindly thoughts triumph and a smile come on his +lips. + +"Plague take the fellow," said he, "I understand him. On my life he's +wise!" + +I bowed low to him, saying, "I thank your Grace for your understanding." + +Rochester sighed heavily. + +"This is wearisome," said he. "Shall we walk?" + +"You and James shall walk," said the King. "I have yet a word for Mr +Dale." As they went he turned to me and said, "But will you leave us? I +could find work for you here." + +I did not know what to answer him. He saw my hesitation. + +"The basket will not be emptied," said he in a low and cautious voice. +"It will be emptied neither for M. de Perrencourt nor for the King of +France. You look very hard at me, Mr Dale, but you needn't search my +face so closely. I will tell you what you desire to know. I have had my +price, but I do not empty my basket." Having said this, he sat leaning +his head on his hands with his eyes cast up at me from under his swarthy +bushy brows. + +There was a long silence then between us. For myself I do not deny that +youthful ambition again cried to me to take his offer, while pride told +me that even at Whitehall I could guard my honour and all that was mine. +I could serve him; since he told me his secrets, he must and would serve +me. And he had in the end dealt fairly and kindly with me. + +The King struck his right hand on the arm of his chair suddenly and +forcibly. + +"I sit here," said he; "it is my work to sit here. My brother has a +conscience, how long would he sit here? James is a fool, how long would +he sit here? They laugh at me or snarl at me, but here I sit, and here I +will sit till my life's end, by God's grace or the Devil's help. My +gospel is to sit here." + +I had never before seen him so moved, and never had so plain a glimpse +of his heart, nor of the resolve which lay beneath his lightness and +frivolity. Whence came that one unswerving resolution I know not; yet I +do not think that it stood on nothing better than his indolence and a +hatred of going again on his travels. There was more than that in it; +perhaps he seemed to himself to hold a fort and considered all +stratagems and devices well justified against the enemy. I made him no +answer but continued to look at him. His passion passed as quickly as it +had come, and he was smiling again with his ironical smile as he said to +me: + +"But my gospel need not be yours. Our paths have crossed, they need not +run side by side. Come, man, I have spoken to you plainly, speak plainly +to me." He paused, and then, leaning forward, said, + +"Perhaps you are of M. de Fontelles' mind? Will you join him in his +search? Abandon it. You had best go to your home and wait. Heaven may +one day send you what you desire. Answer me, sir. Are you of the +Frenchman's mind?" + +His voice now had the ring of command in it and I could not but answer. +And when I came to answer there was but one thing to say. He had told me +the terms of my service. What was it to me that he sat there, if honour +and the Kingdom's greatness and all that makes a crown worth the wearing +must go, in order to his sitting there? There rose in me at once an +inclination towards him and a loathing for the gospel that he preached; +the last was stronger and, with a bow, I said: + +"Yes, Sir, I am of M. de Fontelles' mind." + +He heard me, lying back in his chair. He said nothing, but sighed +lightly, puckered his brow an instant, and smiled. Then he held out his +hand to me, and I bent and kissed it. + +"Good-bye, Mr Dale," said he. "I don't know how long you'll have to +wait. I'm hale and--so's my brother." + +He moved his hand in dismissal, and, having withdrawn some paces, I +turned and walked away. All observed or seemed to observe me; I heard +whispers that asked who I was, why the King had talked so long to me, +and to what service or high office I was destined. Acquaintances saluted +me and stared in wonder at my careless acknowledgment and the quick +decisive tread that carried me to the door. Now, having made my choice, +I was on fire to be gone; yet once I turned my head and saw the King +sitting still in his chair, his head resting on his hands, and a slight +smile on his lips. He saw me look, and nodded his head. I bowed, turned +again, and was gone. + +Since then I have not seen him, for the paths that crossed diverged +again. But, as all men know, he carried out his gospel. There he sat +till his life's end, whether by God's grace or the Devil's help I know +not. But there he sat, and never did he empty his basket lest, having +given all, he should have nothing to carry to market. It is not for me +to judge him now; but then, when I had the choice set before me, there +in his own palace, I passed my verdict. I do not repent of it. For good +or evil, in wisdom or in folly, in mere honesty or the extravagance of +sentiment, I had made my choice. I was of the mind of M. de Fontelles, +and I went forth to wait till there should be a King whom a gentleman +could serve. Yet to this day I am sorry that he made me tell him of my +choice. + + + + +CHAPTER XXVI + +I COME HOME + + +I have written the foregoing for my children's sake that they may know +that once their father played some part in great affairs, and, rubbing +shoulder to shoulder with folk of high degree, bore himself (as I +venture to hope) without disgrace, and even with that credit which a +ready brain and hand bring to their possessor. Here, then, I might well +come to an end, and deny myself the pleasure of a last few words indited +for my own comfort and to please a greedy recollection. The children, if +they read, will laugh. Have you not seen the mirthful wonder that +spreads on a girl's face when she comes by chance on some relic of her +father's wooing, a faded wreath that he has given her mother, or a +nosegay tied with a ribbon and a poem attached thereto? She will look in +her father's face, and thence to where her mother sits at her +needle-work, just where she has sat at her needle-work these twenty +years, with her old kind smile and comfortable eyes. The girl loves her, +loves her well, but--how came father to write those words? For mother, +though the dearest creature in the world, is not slim, nor dazzling, nor +a Queen, nor is she Venus herself, decked in colours of the rainbow, nor +a Goddess come from heaven to men, nor the desire of all the world, nor +aught else that father calls her in the poem. Indeed, what father wrote +is something akin to what the Squire slipped into her own hand last +night; but it is a strange strain in which to write to mother, the +dearest creature in the world, but no, not Venus in her glory nor the +Queen of the Nymphs. But though the maiden laughs, her father is not +ashamed. He still sees her to whom he wrote, and when she smiles across +the room at him, and smiles again to see her daughter's wonder, all the +years fade from the picture's face, and the vision stands as once it +was, though my young mistress' merry eyes have not the power to see it. +Let her laugh. God forbid that I should grudge it her! Soon enough shall +she sit sewing and another laugh. + +Carford was gone, well-nigh healed of his wound, healed also of his +love, I trust, at least headed off from it. M. de Fontelles was gone +also, on that quest of his which made my Lord Rochester so merry; indeed +I fear that in this case the scoffer had the best of it, for he whom I +have called M. de Perrencourt was certainly served again by his +indignant subject, and that most brilliantly. Well, had I been a +Frenchman, I could have forgiven King Louis much; and I suppose that, +although an Englishman, I do not hate him greatly, since his ring is +often on my wife's finger and I see it there without pain. + +It was the day before my wedding was to take place; for my lord, on +being informed of all that had passed, had sworn roundly that since +there was one honest man who sought his daughter, he would not refuse +her, lest while he waited for better things worse should come. And he +proceeded to pay me many a compliment, which I would repeat, despite of +modesty, if it chanced that I remembered them. But in truth my head was +so full of his daughter that there was no space for his praises, and his +well-turned eulogy (for my lord had a pretty flow of words) was as sadly +wasted as though he had spoken it to the statue of Apollo on his +terrace. + +I had been taking dinner with the Vicar, and, since it was not yet time +to pay my evening visit to the Manor, I sat with him a while after our +meal, telling him for his entertainment how I had talked with the King +at Whitehall, what the King had said, and what I, and how my Lord +Rochester had talked finely of the Devil, and tried, but failed, to talk +of love. He drank in all with eager ears, weighing the wit in a balance, +and striving to see, through my recollection, the life and the scene and +the men that were so strange to his eyes and so familiar to his dreams. + +"You don't appear very indignant, sir," I ventured to observe with a +smile. + +We were in the porch, and, for answer to what I said, he pointed to the +path in front of us. Following the direction of his finger I perceived a +fly of a species with which I, who am a poor student of nature, was not +familiar. It was villainously ugly, although here and there on it were +patches of bright colour. + +"Yet," said the Vicar, "you are not indignant with it, Simon." + +"No, I am not indignant," I admitted. + +"But if it were to crawl over you----" + +"I should crush the brute," I cried. + +"Yes. They have crawled over you and you are indignant. They have not +crawled over me, and I am curious." + +"But, sir, will you allow a man no disinterested moral emotion?" + +"As much as he will, and he shall be cool at the end of it," smiled the +Vicar. "Now if they took my benefice from me again!" Stooping down, he +picked up the creature in his hand and fell to examining it very +minutely. + +"I wonder you can touch it," said I in disgust. + +"You did not quit the Court without some regret, Simon," he reminded me. + +I could make nothing of him in this mood and was about to leave him when +I perceived my lord and Barbara approaching the house. Springing up, I +ran to meet them; they received me with a grave air, and in the ready +apprehension of evil born of a happiness that seems too great I cried +out to know if there were bad tidings. + +"There's nothing that touches us nearly," said my lord. "But very +pitiful news is come from France." + +The Vicar had followed me and now stood by me; I looked up and saw that +the ugly creature was still in his hand. + +"It concerns Madame, Simon," said Barbara. "She is dead and all the town +declares that she had poison given to her in a cup of chicory-water. Is +it not pitiful?" + +Indeed the tidings came as a shock to me, for I remembered the winning +grace and wit of the unhappy lady. + +"But who has done it?" I cried. + +"I don't know," said my lord. "It is set down to her husband; rightly or +wrongly, who knows?" + +A silence ensued for a few moments. The Vicar stooped and set his +captive free to crawl away on the path. + +"God has crushed one of them, Simon," said he. "Are you content?" + +"I try not to believe it of her," said I. + +In a grave mood we began to walk, and presently, as it chanced, Barbara +and I distanced the slow steps of our elders and found ourselves at the +Manor gates alone. + +"I am very sorry for Madame," said she, sighing heavily. Yet presently, +because by the mercy of Providence our own joy outweighs others' grief +and thus we can pass through the world with unbroken hearts, she looked +up at me with a smile, and passing her arm, through mine, drew herself +close to me. + +"Ay, be merry, to-night at least be merry, my sweet," said I. "For we +have come through a forest of troubles and are here safe out on the +other side." + +"Safe and together," said she. + +"Without the second, where would be the first?" + +"Yet," said Barbara, "I fear you'll make a bad husband; for here at the +very beginning--nay, I mean before the beginning--you have deceived me." + +"I protest----!" I cried. + +"For it was from my father only that I heard of a visit you paid in +London." + +I bent my head and looked at her. + +"I would not trouble you with it," said I. "It was no more than a debt +of civility." + +"Simon, I don't grudge it to her. For I am, here in the country with +you, and she is there in London without you." + +"And in truth," said I, "I believe that you are both best pleased." + +"For her," said Barbara, "I cannot speak." + +For a long while then we walked in silence, while the afternoon grew +full and waned again. They mock at lovers' talk; let them, say I with +all my heart, so that they leave our silence sacred. But at last +Barbara turned to me and said with a little laugh: + +"Art glad to have come home, Simon?" + +Verily I was glad. In body I had wandered some way, in mind and heart +farther, through many dark ways, turning and twisting here and there, +leading I knew not whither, seeming to leave no track by which I might +regain my starting point. Yet, although I felt it not, the thread was in +my hand, the golden thread spun here in Hatchstead when my days were +young. At length the hold of it had tightened and I, perceiving it, had +turned and followed. Thus it had brought me home, no better in purse or +station than I went, and poorer by the loss of certain dreams that +haunted me, yet, as I hope, sound in heart and soul. I looked now in the +dark eyes that were, set on me as though there were their refuge, joy, +and life; she clung to me as though even still I might leave her. But +the last fear fled, the last doubt faded away, and a smile came in +radiant serenity on the lips I loved as, bending down, I whispered: + +"Ay, I am glad to have come home." + +But there was one thing more that I must say. Her head fell on my +shoulder as she murmured: + +"And you have utterly forgotten her?" + +Her eyes were safely hidden. I smiled as I answered, "Utterly." + +See how I stood! Wilt thou forgive me, Nelly? + +For a man may be very happy as he is and still not forget the things +which have been. "What are you thinking of, Simon?" my wife asks +sometimes when I lean back in my chair and smile. "Of nothing, sweet," +say I. And, in truth, I am not thinking; it is only that a low laugh +echoes distantly in my ear. Faithful and loyal am I--but, should such as +Nell leave nought behind her? + + + +***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK SIMON DALE*** + + +******* This file should be named 20328-8.txt or 20328-8.zip ******* + + +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: +https://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/2/0/3/2/20328 + + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. Special rules, +set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to +copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to +protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark. Project +Gutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be used if you +charge for the eBooks, unless you receive specific permission. If you +do not charge anything for copies of this eBook, complying with the +rules is very easy. You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose +such as creation of derivative works, reports, performances and +research. They may be modified and printed and given away--you may do +practically ANYTHING with public domain eBooks. Redistribution is +subject to the trademark license, especially commercial +redistribution. + + + +*** START: FULL LICENSE *** + +THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE +PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK + +To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free +distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work +(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase "Project +Gutenberg"), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full Project +Gutenberg-tm License (available with this file or online at +https://www.gutenberg.org/license). + + +Section 1. General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic works + +1.A. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to +and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property +(trademark/copyright) agreement. If you do not agree to abide by all +the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or destroy +all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your possession. +If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound by the +terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person or +entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.E.8. + +1.B. "Project Gutenberg" is a registered trademark. It may only be +used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who +agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a few +things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works +even without complying with the full terms of this agreement. See +paragraph 1.C below. There are a lot of things you can do with Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this agreement +and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works. See paragraph 1.E below. + +1.C. The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation ("the Foundation" +or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection of Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works. Nearly all the individual works in the +collection are in the public domain in the United States. If an +individual work is in the public domain in the United States and you are +located in the United States, we do not claim a right to prevent you from +copying, distributing, performing, displaying or creating derivative +works based on the work as long as all references to Project Gutenberg +are removed. Of course, we hope that you will support the Project +Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting free access to electronic works by +freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm works in compliance with the terms of +this agreement for keeping the Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with +the work. You can easily comply with the terms of this agreement by +keeping this work in the same format with its attached full Project +Gutenberg-tm License when you share it without charge with others. + +1.D. The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern +what you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most countries are in +a constant state of change. If you are outside the United States, check +the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this agreement +before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, distributing or +creating derivative works based on this work or any other Project +Gutenberg-tm work. The Foundation makes no representations concerning +the copyright status of any work in any country outside the United +States. + +1.E. Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg: + +1.E.1. The following sentence, with active links to, or other immediate +access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear prominently +whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work on which the +phrase "Project Gutenberg" appears, or with which the phrase "Project +Gutenberg" is associated) is accessed, displayed, performed, viewed, +copied or distributed: + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + +1.E.2. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is derived +from the public domain (does not contain a notice indicating that it is +posted with permission of the copyright holder), the work can be copied +and distributed to anyone in the United States without paying any fees +or charges. If you are redistributing or providing access to a work +with the phrase "Project Gutenberg" associated with or appearing on the +work, you must comply either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1 +through 1.E.7 or obtain permission for the use of the work and the +Project Gutenberg-tm trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or +1.E.9. + +1.E.3. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted +with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution +must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any additional +terms imposed by the copyright holder. Additional terms will be linked +to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works posted with the +permission of the copyright holder found at the beginning of this work. + +1.E.4. Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm +License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this +work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm. + +1.E.5. Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this +electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without +prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with +active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project +Gutenberg-tm License. + +1.E.6. You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary, +compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including any +word processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide access to or +distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format other than +"Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other format used in the official version +posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm web site (www.gutenberg.org), +you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense to the user, provide a +copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means of obtaining a copy upon +request, of the work in its original "Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other +form. Any alternate format must include the full Project Gutenberg-tm +License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1. + +1.E.7. Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying, +performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works +unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. + +1.E.8. You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing +access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works provided +that + +- You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from + the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method + you already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is + owed to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he + has agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the + Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation. Royalty payments + must be paid within 60 days following each date on which you + prepare (or are legally required to prepare) your periodic tax + returns. Royalty payments should be clearly marked as such and + sent to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the + address specified in Section 4, "Information about donations to + the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation." + +- You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies + you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he + does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm + License. You must require such a user to return or + destroy all copies of the works possessed in a physical medium + and discontinue all use of and all access to other copies of + Project Gutenberg-tm works. + +- You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of any + money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the + electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days + of receipt of the work. + +- You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free + distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works. + +1.E.9. If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic work or group of works on different terms than are set +forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing from +both the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and Michael +Hart, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark. Contact the +Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below. + +1.F. + +1.F.1. Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable +effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread +public domain works in creating the Project Gutenberg-tm +collection. Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may contain +"Defects," such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate or +corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other intellectual +property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or other medium, a +computer virus, or computer codes that damage or cannot be read by +your equipment. + +1.F.2. LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the "Right +of Replacement or Refund" described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project +Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all +liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal +fees. YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT +LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE +PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH F3. YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE +TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE +LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR +INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH +DAMAGE. + +1.F.3. LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a +defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can +receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a +written explanation to the person you received the work from. If you +received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium with +your written explanation. The person or entity that provided you with +the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in lieu of a +refund. If you received the work electronically, the person or entity +providing it to you may choose to give you a second opportunity to +receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund. If the second copy +is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing without further +opportunities to fix the problem. + +1.F.4. Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth +in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you 'AS-IS', WITH NO OTHER +WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO +WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTIBILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE. + +1.F.5. Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied +warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of damages. +If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement violates the +law of the state applicable to this agreement, the agreement shall be +interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or limitation permitted by +the applicable state law. The invalidity or unenforceability of any +provision of this agreement shall not void the remaining provisions. + +1.F.6. INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the +trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone +providing copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in accordance +with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the production, +promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works, +harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, including legal fees, +that arise directly or indirectly from any of the following which you do +or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this or any Project Gutenberg-tm +work, (b) alteration, modification, or additions or deletions to any +Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any Defect you cause. + + +Section 2. Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm + +Project Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution of +electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of computers +including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers. It exists +because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations from +people in all walks of life. + +Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the +assistance they need, is critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm's +goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will +remain freely available for generations to come. In 2001, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure +and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future generations. +To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation +and how your efforts and donations can help, see Sections 3 and 4 +and the Foundation web page at https://www.gutenberg.org/fundraising/pglaf. + + +Section 3. Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive +Foundation + +The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non profit +501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the +state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal +Revenue Service. The Foundation's EIN or federal tax identification +number is 64-6221541. Contributions to the Project Gutenberg +Literary Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent +permitted by U.S. federal laws and your state's laws. + +The Foundation's principal office is located at 4557 Melan Dr. S. +Fairbanks, AK, 99712., but its volunteers and employees are scattered +throughout numerous locations. Its business office is located at +809 North 1500 West, Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887, email +business@pglaf.org. Email contact links and up to date contact +information can be found at the Foundation's web site and official +page at https://www.gutenberg.org/about/contact + +For additional contact information: + Dr. Gregory B. Newby + Chief Executive and Director + gbnewby@pglaf.org + +Section 4. Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg +Literary Archive Foundation + +Project Gutenberg-tm depends upon and cannot survive without wide +spread public support and donations to carry out its mission of +increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be +freely distributed in machine readable form accessible by the widest +array of equipment including outdated equipment. Many small donations +($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt +status with the IRS. + +The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating +charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United +States. Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a +considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up +with these requirements. We do not solicit donations in locations +where we have not received written confirmation of compliance. To +SEND DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any +particular state visit https://www.gutenberg.org/fundraising/donate + +While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we +have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition +against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who +approach us with offers to donate. + +International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make +any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from +outside the United States. U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff. + +Please check the Project Gutenberg Web pages for current donation +methods and addresses. Donations are accepted in a number of other +ways including checks, online payments and credit card donations. +To donate, please visit: +https://www.gutenberg.org/fundraising/donate + + +Section 5. General Information About Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works. + +Professor Michael S. Hart was the originator of the Project Gutenberg-tm +concept of a library of electronic works that could be freely shared +with anyone. For thirty years, he produced and distributed Project +Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of volunteer support. + +Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printed +editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the U.S. +unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we do not necessarily +keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition. + +Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility: + + https://www.gutenberg.org + +This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, +including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary +Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to +subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. + diff --git a/20328-8.zip b/20328-8.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..1ef64b4 --- /dev/null +++ b/20328-8.zip diff --git a/20328-h.zip b/20328-h.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..53a45d4 --- /dev/null +++ b/20328-h.zip diff --git a/20328-h/20328-h.htm b/20328-h/20328-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..b59a4c5 --- /dev/null +++ b/20328-h/20328-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,13777 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Transitional//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-transitional.dtd"> +<html> +<head> +<meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=ISO-8859-1" /> +<title>The Project Gutenberg eBook of Simon Dale, by Anthony Hope</title> + <style type="text/css"> +/*<![CDATA[ XML blockout */ +<!-- + p { margin-top: .75em; + text-align: justify; + margin-bottom: .75em; + } + h1,h2,h3,h4,h5,h6 { + text-align: center; /* all headings centered */ + clear: both; + } + hr { width: 33%; + margin-top: 2em; + margin-bottom: 2em; + margin-left: auto; + margin-right: auto; + clear: both; + } + + table {margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;} + + body{margin-left: 15%; + margin-right: 15%; + line-height: 1.5em; + } + + .pagenum { /* uncomment the next line for invisible page numbers */ + /* visibility: hidden; */ + position: absolute; + left: 92%; + font-size: smaller; + text-align: right; + } /* page numbers */ + + + .center {text-align: center;} + .smcap {font-variant: small-caps;} + .u {text-decoration: underline;} + + .caption {font-weight: bold;} + + .figcenter {margin: auto; text-align: center;} + + .poem {margin-left:10%; margin-right:10%; text-align: left;} + .poem br {display: none;} + .poem .stanza {margin: 1em 0em 1em 0em;} + .poem span.i0 {display: block; margin-left: 0em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} + + .tabletitle { background-image: url(images/titleframe.jpg); } + hr.full { width: 100%; + margin-top: 0em; + margin-bottom: 0em; + border: solid black; + height: 5px; } + pre {font-size: 80%; + line-height: 1em; } + // --> + /* XML end ]]>*/ + </style> +</head> +<body> +<h1>The Project Gutenberg eBook, Simon Dale, by Anthony Hope</h1> +<pre> +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at <a href = "http://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a></pre> +<p>Title: Simon Dale</p> +<p>Author: Anthony Hope</p> +<p>Release Date: January 10, 2007 [eBook #20328]</p> +<p>Language: English</p> +<p>Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1</p> +<p>***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK SIMON DALE***</p> +<p> </p> +<h3>E-text prepared by Elaine Walker, Karen Dalrymple,<br /> + and the Project Gutenberg Online Distributed Proofreading Team<br /> + (http://www.pgdp.net/c/)</h3> +<p> </p> +<hr class="full" /> +<p> </p> +<p> </p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_ii" id="Page_ii">[Pg i]</a></span></p> + +<table class="tabletitle" border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" summary="Title Page--Simon Dale by Anthony Hope"> +<tr> + +<td width="453" height="700" align="center" valign="middle"> +<font size="+2"><b>Simon Dale</b></font> +<br /><br /> +BY<br /> +ANTHONY HOPE<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<font size="-1"> +T. NELSON & SONS<br /> +LONDON AND EDINBURGH<br /> +PARIS: 189, rue Saint-Jacques<br /> +LEIPZIG: 35-37 Königstrasse<br /> +</font> +</td> + +</tr> +</table> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_i" id="Page_i">[Pg ii]</a></span></p> + + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 263px;"> +<a href="images/frontis.jpg"> +<img src="images/frontis_thumb.jpg" width="263" height="400" alt=""It is only that a low laugh echoes distantly in my ear."" title="" /> +</a> +<span class="caption">"It is only that a low laugh echoes distantly in my ear."</span> +</div> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_iii" id="Page_iii">[Pg iii]</a></span></p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 185px;"> +<img src="images/logo.jpg" width="185" height="226" alt="Logo---engraving of a building" title="" /> +</div> + + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1" id="Page_1">[Pg 1]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CONTENTS" id="CONTENTS"></a>CONTENTS</h2> + +<div class='center'> +<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary="TABLE OF CONTENTS"> +<tr> + <td align="right">I.</td> + <td align="left"><a href="#CHAPTER_I"><span class="smcap">The Child of Prophecy</span></a></td> + <td align="right">3</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align="right">II.</td> + <td align="left"><a href="#CHAPTER_II"><span class="smcap">The Way of Youth</span></a></td> + <td align="right">18</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align="right">III.</td> + <td align="left"><a href="#CHAPTER_III"><span class="smcap">The Music of the World</span></a></td> + <td align="right">33</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align="right">IV.</td> + <td align="left"><a href="#CHAPTER_IV"><span class="smcap">Cydaria revealed</span></a></td> + <td align="right">49</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align="right">V.</td> + <td align="left"><a href="#CHAPTER_V"><span class="smcap">I am forbidden to forget</span></a></td> + <td align="right">65</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align="right">VI.</td> + <td align="left"><a href="#CHAPTER_VI"><span class="smcap">An Invitation to Court</span></a></td> + <td align="right">84</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align="right">VII.</td> + <td align="left"><a href="#CHAPTER_VII"><span class="smcap">What came of Honesty</span></a></td> + <td align="right">103</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align="right">VIII.</td> + <td align="left"><a href="#CHAPTER_VIII"><span class="smcap">Madness, Magic, and Moonshine</span></a></td> + <td align="right">122</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align="right">IX.</td> + <td align="left"><a href="#CHAPTER_IX"><span class="smcap">Of Gems and Pebbles</span></a></td> + <td align="right">140</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align="right">X.</td> + <td align="left"><a href="#CHAPTER_X"><span class="smcap">Je Viens, Tu Viens, Il Vient</span></a> + </td><td align="right">160</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align="right">XI.</td> + <td align="left"><a href="#CHAPTER_XI"><span class="smcap">The Gentleman from Calais</span></a></td> + <td align="right">180</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align="right">XII.</td> + <td align="left"><a href="#CHAPTER_XII"><span class="smcap">The Deference of His Grace the Duke</span></a></td> + <td align="right">201</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align="right">XIII.</td> + <td align="left"><a href="#CHAPTER_XIII"><span class="smcap">The Meed of Curiosity</span></a></td> + <td align="right">222</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align="right">XIV.</td> + <td align="left"><a href="#CHAPTER_XIV"><span class="smcap">The King's Cup</span></a></td> + <td align="right">244</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align="right">XV.</td> + <td align="left"><a href="#CHAPTER_XV"><span class="smcap">M. de Perrencourt whispers</span></a></td> + <td align="right">263</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align="right">XVI.</td> + <td align="left"><a href="#CHAPTER_XVI"><span class="smcap">M. de Perrencourt wonders</span></a></td> + <td align="right">283</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align="right">XVIII.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_2" id="Page_2">[Pg 2]</a></span></td> + <td align="left"><a href="#CHAPTER_XVIII"><span class="smcap">Some Mighty Silly Business</span></a></td> + <td align="right">324</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align="right">XIX. </td> + <td align="left"><a href="#CHAPTER_XIX"><span class="smcap">A Night on the Road</span></a></td> + <td align="right">345</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align="right">XX.</td> + <td align="left"><a href="#CHAPTER_XX"><span class="smcap">The Vicar's Proposition</span></a></td> + <td align="right">362</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align="right">XXI.</td> + <td align="left"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXI"><span class="smcap">The Strange Conjuncture of Two Gentlemen</span></a></td> + <td align="right">378</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align="right">XXII.</td> + <td align="left"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXII"><span class="smcap">The Device of Lord Carford</span></a></td> + <td align="right">396</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align="right">XXIII.</td> + <td align="left"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXIII"><span class="smcap">A Pleasant Penitence</span></a></td> + <td align="right">414</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align="right">XXIV.</td> + <td align="left"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXIV"><span class="smcap">A Comedy before the King</span></a></td> + <td align="right">434</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align="right">XXV. </td> + <td align="left"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXV"><span class="smcap">The Mind of M. de Fontelles</span></a></td> + <td align="right">451</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align="right">XXVI.</td> + <td align="left"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXVI"><span class="smcap">I come Home</span></a></td> + <td align="right">468</td> +</tr> +</table></div> + + + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_3" id="Page_3">[Pg 3]</a></span></p><hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="SIMON_DALE" id="SIMON_DALE"></a>SIMON DALE</h2> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_I" id="CHAPTER_I"></a>CHAPTER I</h2> + +<h3>THE CHILD OF PROPHECY</h3> + + +<p>One who was in his day a person of great place and consideration, and +has left a name which future generations shall surely repeat so long as +the world may last, found no better rule for a man's life than that he +should incline his mind to move in Charity, rest in Providence, and turn +upon the poles of Truth. This condition, says he, is Heaven upon Earth; +and although what touches truth may better befit the philosopher who +uttered it than the vulgar and unlearned, for whom perhaps it is a +counsel too high and therefore dangerous, what comes before should +surely be graven by each of us on the walls of our hearts. For any man +who lived in the days that I have seen must have found much need of +trust in Providence, and by no whit the less of charity for men. In such +trust and charity I have striven to write: in the like I pray you to +read.</p> + +<p>I, Simon Dale, was born on the seventh day of the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_4" id="Page_4">[Pg 4]</a></span> seventh month in the +year of Our Lord sixteen-hundred-and-forty-seven. The date was good in +that the Divine Number was thrice found in it, but evil in that it fell +on a time of sore trouble both for the nation and for our own house; +when men had begun to go about saying that if the King would not keep +his promises it was likely that he would keep his head as little; when +they who had fought for freedom were suspecting that victory had brought +new tyrants; when the Vicar was put out of his cure; and my father, +having trusted the King first, the Parliament afterwards, and at last +neither the one nor the other, had lost the greater part of his +substance, and fallen from wealth to straitened means: such is the +common reward of an honest patriotism wedded to an open mind. However, +the date, good or bad, was none of my doing, nor indeed, folks +whispered, much of my parents' either, seeing that destiny overruled the +affair, and Betty Nasroth, the wise woman, announced its imminence more +than a year beforehand. For she predicted the birth, on the very day +whereon I came into the world, within a mile of the parish church, of a +male child who—and the utterance certainly had a lofty sound about +it—should love where the King loved, know what the King hid, and drink +of the King's cup. Now, inasmuch as none lived within the limits named +by Betty Nasroth, save on the one side sundry humble labourers, whose +progeny could expect no such fate, and on the other my Lord and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_5" id="Page_5">[Pg 5]</a></span> Lady +Quinton, who were wedded but a month before my birthday, the prophecy +was fully as pointed as it had any need to be, and caused to my parents +no small questionings. It was the third clause or term of the prediction +that gave most concern alike to my mother and to my father; to my +mother, because, although of discreet mind and a sound Churchwoman, she +was from her earliest years a Rechabite, and had never heard of a King +who drank water; and to my father by reason of his decayed estate, which +made it impossible for him to contrive how properly to fit me for my +predestined company. "A man should not drink the King's wine without +giving the King as good," my father reflected ruefully. Meanwhile I, +troubling not at all about the matter, was content to prove Betty right +in point of the date, and, leaving the rest to the future, achieved this +triumph for her most punctually. Whatsoever may await a man on his way +through the world, he can hardly begin life better than by keeping his +faith with a lady.</p> + +<p>She was a strange old woman, this Betty Nasroth, and would likely enough +have fared badly in the time of the King's father. Now there was bigger +game than witches afoot, and nothing worse befell her than the scowls of +her neighbours and the frightened mockery of children. She made free +reply with curses and dark mutterings, but me she loved as being the +child of her vision, and all the more because, encountering her as I +rode in my mother's arms, I did<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_6" id="Page_6">[Pg 6]</a></span> not cry, but held out my hands, crowing +and struggling to get to her; whereat suddenly, and to my mother's great +terror, she exclaimed: "Thou see'st, Satan!" and fell to weeping, a +thing which, as every woman in the parish knew, a person absolutely +possessed by the Evil One can by no means accomplish (unless, indeed, a +bare three drops squeezed from the left eye may usurp the name of +tears). But my mother shrank away from her and would not allow her to +touch me; nor was it until I had grown older and ran about the village +alone that the old woman, having tracked me to a lonely spot, took me in +her arms, mumbled over my head some words I did not understand, and +kissed me. That a mole grows on the spot she kissed is but a fable (for +how do the women know where her kiss fell save by where the mole +grows?—and that is to reason poorly), or at the most the purest chance. +Nay, if it were more, I am content; for the mole does me no harm, and +the kiss, as I hope, did Betty some good; off she went straight to the +Vicar (who was living then in the cottage of my Lord Quinton's gardener +and exercising his sacred functions in a secrecy to which the whole +parish was privy) and prayed him to let her partake of the Lord's +Supper: a request that caused great scandal to the neighbours and sore +embarrassment to the Vicar himself, who, being a learned man and deeply +read in demonology, grieved from his heart that the witch did not play +her part better.</p> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_7" id="Page_7">[Pg 7]</a></span></p> +<p>"It is," said he to my father, "a monstrous lapse."</p> + +<p>"Nay, it is a sign of grace," urged my mother.</p> + +<p>"It is," said my father (and I do not know whether he spoke perversely +or in earnest), "a matter of no moment."</p> + +<p>Now, being steadfastly determined that my boyhood shall be less tedious +in the telling than it was in the living—for I always longed to be a +man, and hated my green and petticoat-governed days—I will pass +forthwith to the hour when I reached the age of eighteen years. My dear +father was then in Heaven, and old Betty had found, as was believed, +another billet. But my mother lived, and the Vicar, like the King, had +come to his own again: and I was five feet eleven in my stockings, and +there was urgent need that I should set about pushing my way and putting +money in my purse; for our lands had not returned with the King, and +there was no more incoming than would serve to keep my mother and +sisters in the style of gentlewomen.</p> + +<p>"And on that matter," observed the Vicar, stroking his nose with his +forefinger, as his habit was in moments of perplexity, "Betty Nasroth's +prophecy is of small service. For the doings on which she touches are +likely to be occasions of expense rather than sources of gain."</p> + +<p>"They would be money wasted," said my mother gently, "one and all of +them."</p> + +<p>The Vicar looked a little doubtful.</p> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_8" id="Page_8">[Pg 8]</a></span></p> +<p>"I will write a sermon on that theme," said he; for this was with him a +favourite way out of an argument. In truth the Vicar loved the prophecy, +as a quiet student often loves a thing that echoes of the world which he +has shunned.</p> + +<p>"You must write down for me what the King says to you, Simon," he told +me once.</p> + +<p>"Suppose, sir," I suggested mischievously, "that it should not be fit +for your eye?"</p> + +<p>"Then write it, Simon," he answered, pinching my ear, "for my +understanding."</p> + +<p>It was well enough for the Vicar's whimsical fancy to busy itself with +Betty Nasroth's prophecy, half-believing, half-mocking, never forgetting +nor disregarding; but I, who am, after all, the most concerned, doubt +whether such a dark utterance be a wholesome thing to hang round a young +man's neck. The dreams of youth grow rank enough without such watering. +The prediction was always in my mind, alluring and tantalising as a +teasing girl who puts her pretty face near yours, safe that you dare not +kiss it. What it said I mused on, what it said not I neglected. I +dedicated my idle hours to it, and, not appeased, it invaded my seasons +of business. Rather than seek my own path, I left myself to its will and +hearkened for its whispered orders.</p> + +<p>"It was the same," observed my mother sadly, "with a certain cook-maid +of my sister's. It was foretold that she should marry her master."</p> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_9" id="Page_9">[Pg 9]</a></span></p> +<p>"And did she not?" cried the Vicar, with ears all pricked-up.</p> + +<p>"She changed her service every year," said my mother, "seeking the +likeliest man, until at last none would hire her."</p> + +<p>"She should have stayed in her first service," said the Vicar, shaking +his head.</p> + +<p>"But her first master had a wife," retorted my mother triumphantly.</p> + +<p>"I had one once myself," said the Vicar.</p> + +<p>The argument, with which his widowhood supplied the Vicar, was sound and +unanswerable, and it suited well with my humour to learn from my aunt's +cook-maid, and wait patiently on fate. But what avails an argument, be +it ever so sound, against an empty purse? It was declared that I must +seek my fortune; yet on the method of my search some difference arose.</p> + +<p>"You must work, Simon," said my sister Lucy, who was betrothed to +Justice Barnard, a young squire of good family and high repute, but +mighty hard on idle vagrants, and free with the stocks for revellers.</p> + +<p>"You must pray for guidance," said my sister Mary, who was to wed a +saintly clergyman, a Prebend, too, of the Cathedral.</p> + +<p>"There is," said I stoutly, "nothing of such matters in Betty Nasroth's +prophecy."</p> + +<p>"They are taken for granted, dear boy," said my mother gently.</p> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_10" id="Page_10">[Pg 10]</a></span></p> +<p>The Vicar rubbed his nose.</p> + +<p>Yet not these excellent and zealous counsellors proved right, but the +Vicar and I. For had I gone to London, as they urged, instead of abiding +where I was, agreeably to the Vicar's argument and my own inclination, +it is a great question whether the plague would not have proved too +strong for Betty Nasroth, and her prediction gone to lie with me in a +death-pit. As things befell, I lived, hearing only dimly and, as it +were, from afar-off of that great calamity, and of the horrors that +beset the city. For the disease did not come our way, and we moralised +on the sins of the townsfolk with sound bodies and contented minds. We +were happy in our health and in our virtue, and not disinclined to +applaud God's judgment that smote our erring brethren; for too often the +chastisement of one sinner feeds another's pride. Yet the plague had a +hand, and no small one, in that destiny of mine, although it came not +near me; for it brought fresh tenants to those same rooms in the +gardener's cottage where the Vicar had dwelt till the loyal Parliament's +Act proved too hard for the conscience of our Independent minister, and +the Vicar, nothing loth, moved back to his parsonage.</p> + +<p>Now I was walking one day, as I had full licence and leave to walk, in +the avenue of Quinton Manor, when I saw, first, what I had (if I am to +tell the truth) come to see, to wit, the figure of young Mistress +Barbara, daintily arrayed in a white summer<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_11" id="Page_11">[Pg 11]</a></span> gown. Barbara was pleased +to hold herself haughtily towards me, for she was an heiress, and of a +house that had not fallen in the world as mine had. Yet we were friends; +for we sparred and rallied, she giving offence and I taking it, she +pardoning my rudeness and I accepting forgiveness; while my lord and my +lady, perhaps thinking me too low for fear and yet high enough for +favour, showed me much kindness; my lord, indeed, would often jest with +me on the great fate foretold me in Betty Nasroth's prophecy.</p> + +<p>"Yet," he would say, with a twinkle in his eye, "the King has strange +secrets, and there is some strange wine in his cup, and to love where he +loves——"; but at this point the Vicar, who chanced to be by, twinkled +also, but shifted the conversation to some theme which did not touch the +King, his secrets, his wine, or where he loved.</p> + +<p>Thus then I saw, as I say, the slim tall figure, the dark hair, and the +proud eyes of Barbara Quinton; and the eyes were flashing in anger as +their owner turned away from—what I had not looked to see in Barbara's +company. This was another damsel, of lower stature and plumper figure, +dressed full as prettily as Barbara herself, and laughing with most +merry lips and under eyes that half hid themselves in an eclipse of +mirth. When Barbara saw me, she did not, as her custom was, feign not to +see me till I thrust my presence on her, but ran to me at once, crying +very indignantly,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_12" id="Page_12">[Pg 12]</a></span> "Simon, who is this girl? She has dared to tell me +that my gown is of country make and hangs like an old smock on a +beanpole."</p> + +<p>"Mistress Barbara," I answered, "who heeds the make of the gown when the +wearer is of divine make?" I was young then, and did not know that to +compliment herself at the expense of her apparel is not the best way to +please a woman.</p> + +<p>"You are silly," said Barbara. "Who is she?"</p> + +<p>"The girl," said I, crestfallen, "is, they tell me, from London, and she +lodges with her mother in your gardener's cottage. But I didn't look to +find her here in the avenue."</p> + +<p>"You shall not again if I have my way," said Barbara. Then she added +abruptly and sharply, "Why do you look at her?"</p> + +<p>Now, it was true that I was looking at the stranger, and on Barbara's +question I looked the harder.</p> + +<p>"She is mighty pretty," said I. "Does she not seem so to you, Mistress +Barbara?" And, simple though I was, I spoke not altogether in +simplicity.</p> + +<p>"Pretty?" echoed Barbara. "And pray what do you know of prettiness, +Master Simon?"</p> + +<p>"What I have learnt at Quinton Manor," I answered, with a bow.</p> + +<p>"That doesn't prove her pretty," retorted the angry lady.</p> + +<p>"There's more than one way of it," said I discreetly, and I took a step +towards the visitor, who<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_13" id="Page_13">[Pg 13]</a></span> stood some ten yards from us, laughing still +and plucking a flower to pieces in her fingers.</p> + +<p>"She isn't known to you?" asked Barbara, perceiving my movement.</p> + +<p>"I can remedy that," said I, smiling.</p> + +<p>Never since the world began had youth been a more faithful servant to +maid than I to Barbara Quinton. Yet because, if a man lie down, the best +of girls will set her pretty foot on his neck, and also from my love of +a thing that is new, I was thoroughly resolved to accost the gardener's +guest; and my purpose was not altered by Barbara's scornful toss of her +little head as she turned away.</p> + +<p>"It is no more than civility," I protested, "to ask after her health, +for, coming from London, she can but just have escaped the plague."</p> + +<p>Barbara tossed her head again, declaring plainly her opinion of my +excuse.</p> + +<p>"But if you desire me to walk with you——" I began.</p> + +<p>"There is nothing I thought of less," she interrupted. "I came here to +be alone."</p> + +<p>"My pleasure lies in obeying you," said I, and I stood bareheaded while +Barbara, without another glance at me, walked off towards the house. +Half penitent, yet wholly obstinate, I watched her go; she did not once +look over her shoulder. Had she—but a truce to that. What passed is +enough; with what might have, my story would stretch to the world's end. +I smothered my remorse, and went up<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_14" id="Page_14">[Pg 14]</a></span> to the stranger, bidding her +good-day in my most polite and courtly manner; she smiled, but at what I +knew not. She seemed little more than a child, sixteen years old or +seventeen at the most, yet there was no confusion in her greeting of me. +Indeed, she was most marvellously at her ease, for, on my salute, she +cried, lifting her hands in feigned amazement,</p> + +<p>"A man, by my faith; a man in this place!"</p> + +<p>Well pleased to be called a man, I bowed again.</p> + +<p>"Or at least," she added, "what will be one, if it please Heaven."</p> + +<p>"You may live to see it without growing wrinkled," said I, striving to +conceal my annoyance.</p> + +<p>"And one that has repartee in him! Oh, marvellous!"</p> + +<p>"We do not all lack wit in the country, madame," said I, simpering as I +supposed the Court gallants to simper, "nor, since the plague came to +London, beauty."</p> + +<p>"Indeed, it's wonderful," she cried in mock admiration. "Do they teach +such sayings hereabouts, sir?"</p> + +<p>"Even so, madame, and from such books as your eyes furnish." And for all +her air of mockery, I was, as I remember, much pleased with this speech. +It had come from some well-thumbed romance, I doubt not. I was always an +eager reader of such silly things.</p> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_15" id="Page_15">[Pg 15]</a></span></p> +<p>She curtseyed low, laughing up at me with roguish eyes and mouth.</p> + +<p>"Now, surely, sir," she said, "you must be Simon Dale, of whom my host +the gardener speaks?"</p> + +<p>"It is my name, madame, at your service. But the gardener has played me +a trick; for now I have nothing to give in exchange for your name."</p> + +<p>"Nay, you have a very pretty nosegay in your hand," said she. "I might +be persuaded to barter my name for it."</p> + +<p>The nosegay that was in my hand I had gathered and brought for Barbara +Quinton, and I still meant to use it as a peace-offering. But Barbara +had treated me harshly, and the stranger looked longingly at the +nosegay.</p> + +<p>"The gardener is a niggard with his flowers," she said with a coaxing +smile.</p> + +<p>"To confess the truth," said I, wavering in my purpose, "the nosegay was +plucked for another."</p> + +<p>"It will smell the sweeter," she cried, with a laugh. "Nothing gives +flowers such a perfume." And she held out a wonderfully small hand +towards my nosegay.</p> + +<p>"Is that a London lesson?" I asked, holding the flowers away from her +grasp.</p> + +<p>"It holds good in the country also, sir; wherever, indeed, there is a +man to gather flowers and more than one lady who loves smelling them."</p> + +<p>"Well," said I, "the nosegay is yours at the price," and I held it out +to her.</p> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_16" id="Page_16">[Pg 16]</a></span></p> +<p>"The price? What, you desire to know my name?"</p> + +<p>"Unless, indeed, I may call you one of my own choosing," said I, with a +glance that should have been irresistible.</p> + +<p>"Would you use it in speaking of me to Mistress Barbara there? No, I'll +give you a name to call me by. You may call me Cydaria."</p> + +<p>"Cydaria! A fine name!"</p> + +<p>"It is," said she carelessly, "as good as any other."</p> + +<p>"But is there no other to follow it?"</p> + +<p>"When did a poet ask two names to head his sonnet? And surely you wanted +mine for a sonnet?"</p> + +<p>"So be it, Cydaria," said I.</p> + +<p>"So be it, Simon. And is not Cydaria as pretty as Barbaria?"</p> + +<p>"It has a strange sound," said I, "but it's well enough."</p> + +<p>"And now—the nosegay!"</p> + +<p>"I must pay a reckoning for this," I sighed; but since a bargain is a +bargain I gave her the nosegay.</p> + +<p>She took it, her face all alight with smiles, and buried her nose in it. +I stood looking at her, caught by her pretty ways and graceful boldness. +Boy though I was, I had been right in telling her that there are many +ways of beauty; here were two to start with, hers and Barbara's. She +looked up and, finding my gaze on her, made a little grimace as<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_17" id="Page_17">[Pg 17]</a></span> though +it were only what she had expected and gave her no more concern than +pleasure. Yet at such a look Barbara would have turned cold and distant +for an hour or more. Cydaria, smiling in scornful indulgence, dropped me +another mocking curtsey, and made as though she would go her way. Yet +she did not go, but stood with her head half-averted, a glance straying +towards me from the corner of her eye, while with her tiny foot she dug +the gravel of the avenue.</p> + +<p>"It is a lovely place, this park," said she. "But, indeed, it's often +hard to find the way about it."</p> + +<p>I was not backward to take her hint.</p> + +<p>"If you had a guide now——" I began.</p> + +<p>"Why, yes, if I had a guide, Simon," she whispered gleefully.</p> + +<p>"You could find the way, Cydaria, and your guide would be most——"</p> + +<p>"Most charitably engaged. But then——" She paused, drooping the corners +of her mouth in sudden despondency.</p> + +<p>"But what then?"</p> + +<p>"Why then, Mistress Barbara would be alone."</p> + +<p>I hesitated. I glanced towards the house. I looked at Cydaria.</p> + +<p>"She told me that she wished to be alone," said I.</p> + +<p>"No? How did she say it?"</p> + +<p>"I will tell you all about that as we go along," said I, and Cydaria +laughed again.</p> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_18" id="Page_18">[Pg 18]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_II" id="CHAPTER_II"></a>CHAPTER II</h2> + +<h3>THE WAY OF YOUTH</h3> + + +<p>The debate is years old; not indeed quite so old as the world, since +Adam and Eve cannot, for want of opportunity, have fallen out over it, +yet descending to us from unknown antiquity. But it has never been set +at rest by general consent: the quarrel over Passive Obedience is +nothing to it. It seems such a small matter though; for the debate I +mean turns on no greater question than this: may a man who owns +allegiance to one lady justify by any train of reasoning his conduct in +snatching a kiss from another, this other being (for it is important to +have the terms right) not (so far as can be judged) unwilling? I +maintained that he might; to be sure, my position admitted of no other +argument, and, for the most part, it is a man's state which determines +his arguments and not his reasons that induce his state. Barbara +declared that he could not; though, to be sure, it was, as she added +most promptly, no concern of hers; for she cared not whether I were in +love or not, nor how deeply, nor with whom, nor, in a word, anything at +all about the matter. It was an<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_19" id="Page_19">[Pg 19]</a></span> abstract opinion she gave, so far as +love, or what men chose to call such, might be involved; as to +seemliness, she must confess that she had her view, with which, may be, +Mr Dale was not in agreement. The girl at the gardener's cottage must, +she did not doubt, agree wholly with Mr Dale; how otherwise would she +have suffered the kiss in an open space in the park, where anybody might +pass—and where, in fact (by the most perverse chance in the world), +pretty Mistress Barbara herself passed at the moment when the thing +occurred? However, if the matter could ever have had the smallest +interest for her—save in so far as it touched the reputation of the +village and might afford an evil example to the village maidens—it +could have none at all now, seeing that she set out the next day to +London, to take her place as Maid of Honour to Her Royal Highness the +Duchess, and would have as little leisure as inclination to think of Mr +Simon Dale or of how he chose to amuse himself when he believed that +none was watching. Not that she had watched: her presence was the purest +and most unwelcome chance. Yet she could not but be glad to hear that +the girl was soon to go back whence she came, to the great relief (she +was sure) of Madame Dale and of her dear friends Lucy and Mary; to her +love for whom nothing—no, nothing—should make any difference. For the +girl herself she wished no harm, but she conceived that her mother must +be ill at ease concerning her.</p> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_20" id="Page_20">[Pg 20]</a></span></p> +<p>It will be allowed that Mistress Barbara had the most of the argument if +not the best. Indeed, I found little to say, except that the village +would be the worse by so much as the Duchess of York was the better for +Mistress Barbara's departure; the civility won me nothing but the +haughtiest curtsey and a taunt.</p> + +<p>"Must you rehearse your pretty speeches on me before you venture them on +your friends, sir?" she asked.</p> + +<p>"I am at your mercy, Mistress Barbara," I pleaded. "Are we to part +enemies?"</p> + +<p>She made me no answer, but I seemed to see a softening in her face as +she turned away towards the window, whence were to be seen the stretch +of the lawn and the park-meadows beyond. I believe that with a little +more coaxing she would have pardoned me, but at the instant, by another +stroke of perversity, a small figure sauntered across the sunny fields. +The fairest sights may sometimes come amiss.</p> + +<p>"Cydaria! A fine name!" said Barbara, with curling lip. "I'll wager she +has reasons for giving no other."</p> + +<p>"Her mother gives another to the gardener," I reminded her meekly.</p> + +<p>"Names are as easy given as—as kisses!" she retorted. "As for Cydaria, +my lord says it is a name out of a play."</p> + +<p>All this while we had stood at the window, watching Cydaria's light feet +trip across the meadow,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_21" id="Page_21">[Pg 21]</a></span> and her bonnet swing wantonly in her hand. But +now Cydaria disappeared among the trunks of the beech trees.</p> + +<p>"See, she has gone," said I in a whisper. "She is gone, Mistress +Barbara."</p> + +<p>Barbara understood what I would say, but she was resolved to show me no +gentleness. The soft tones of my voice had been for her, but she would +not accept their homage.</p> + +<p>"You need not sigh for that before my face," said she. "And yet, sigh if +you will. What is it to me? But she is not gone far, and, doubtless, +will not run too fast when you pursue."</p> + +<p>"When you are in London," said I, "you will think with remorse how ill +you used me."</p> + +<p>"I shall never think of you at all. Do you forget that there are +gentlemen of wit and breeding at the Court?"</p> + +<p>"The devil fly away with every one of them!" cried I suddenly, not +knowing then how well the better part of them would match their escort.</p> + +<p>Barbara turned to me; there was a gleam of triumph in the depths of her +dark eyes.</p> + +<p>"Perhaps when you hear of me at Court," she cried, "you'll be sorry to +think how——"</p> + +<p>But she broke off suddenly, and looked out of the window.</p> + +<p>"You'll find a husband there," I suggested bitterly.</p> + +<p>"Like enough," said she carelessly.</p> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_22" id="Page_22">[Pg 22]</a></span></p> +<p>To be plain, I was in no happy mood. Her going grieved me to the heart, +and that she should go thus incensed stung me yet more. I was jealous of +every man in London town. Had not my argument, then, some reason in it +after all?</p> + +<p>"Fare-you-well, madame," said I, with a heavy frown and a sweeping bow. +No player from the Lane could have been more tragic.</p> + +<p>"Fare-you-well, sir. I will not detain you, for you have, I know, other +farewells to make."</p> + +<p>"Not for a week yet!" I cried, goaded to a show of exultation that +Cydaria stayed so long.</p> + +<p>"I don't doubt that you'll make good use of the time," she said, as with +a fine dignity she waved me to the door. Girl as she was, she had caught +or inherited the grand air that great ladies use.</p> + +<p>Gloomily I passed out, to fall into the hands of my lord, who was +walking on the terrace. He caught me by the arm, laughing in +good-humoured mockery.</p> + +<p>"You've had a touch of sentiment, eh, you rogue?" said he. "Well, +there's little harm in that, since the girl leaves us to-morrow."</p> + +<p>"Indeed, my lord, there was little harm," said I, long-faced and rueful. +"As little as my lady herself could wish." (At this he smiled and +nodded.) "Mistress Barbara will hardly so much as look at me."</p> + +<p>He grew graver, though the smile still hung about his lips.</p> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_23" id="Page_23">[Pg 23]</a></span></p> +<p>"They gossip about you in the village, Simon," said he. "Take a friend's +counsel, and don't be so much with the lady at the cottage. Come, I +don't speak without reason." He nodded at me as a man nods who means +more than he will say. Indeed, not a word more would he say, so that +when I left him I was even more angry than when I parted from his +daughter. And, the nature of man being such as Heaven has made it, what +need to say that I bent my steps to the cottage with all convenient +speed? The only weapon of an ill-used lover (nay, I will not argue the +merits of the case again) was ready to my hand.</p> + +<p>Yet my impatience availed little; for there, on the seat that stood by +the door, sat my good friend the Vicar, discoursing in pleasant leisure +with the lady who named herself Cydaria.</p> + +<p>"It is true," he was saying. "I fear it is true, though you're over +young to have learnt it."</p> + +<p>"There are schools, sir," she returned, with a smile that had (or so it +seemed to me) a touch—no more—of bitterness in it, "where such lessons +are early learnt."</p> + +<p>"They are best let alone, those schools," said he.</p> + +<p>"And what's the lesson?" I asked, drawing nearer.</p> + +<p>Neither answered. The Vicar rested his hands on the ball of his cane, +and suddenly began to relate old Betty Nasroth's prophecy to his +companion. I cannot tell what led his thoughts to it, but it was<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_24" id="Page_24">[Pg 24]</a></span> never +far from his mind when I was by. She listened with attention, smiling +brightly in whimsical amusement when the fateful words, pronounced with +due solemnity, left the Vicar's lips.</p> + +<p>"It is a strange saying," he ended, "of which time alone can show the +truth."</p> + +<p>She glanced at me with merry eyes, yet with a new air of interest. It is +strange the hold these superstitions have on all of us; though surely +future ages will outgrow such childishness.</p> + +<p>"I don't know what the prophecy means," said she; "yet one thing at +least would seem needful for its fulfilment—that Mr Dale should become +acquainted with the King."</p> + +<p>"True!" cried the Vicar eagerly. "Everything stands on that, and on that +we stick. For Simon cannot love where the King loves, nor know what the +King hides, nor drink of the King's cup, if he abide all his days here +in Hatchstead. Come, Simon, the plague is gone!"</p> + +<p>"Should I then be gone too?" I asked. "But to what end? I have no +friends in London who would bring me to the notice of the King."</p> + +<p>The Vicar shook his head sadly. I had no such friends, and the King had +proved before now that he could forget many a better friend to the +throne than my dear father's open mind had made of him.</p> + +<p>"We must wait, we must wait still," said the Vicar. "Time will find a +friend."</p> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_25" id="Page_25">[Pg 25]</a></span></p> +<p>Cydaria had become pensive for a moment, but she looked up now, smiling +again, and said to me:</p> + +<p>"You'll soon have a friend in London."</p> + +<p>Thinking of Barbara, I answered gloomily, "She's no friend of mine."</p> + +<p>"I did not mean whom you mean," said Cydaria, with twinkling eyes and +not a whit put out. "But I also am going to London."</p> + +<p>I smiled, for it did not seem as though she would be a powerful friend, +or able to open any way for me. But she met my smile with another so +full of confidence and challenge that my attention was wholly caught, +and I did not heed the Vicar's farewell as he rose and left us.</p> + +<p>"And would you serve me," I asked, "if you had the power?"</p> + +<p>"Nay, put the question as you think it," said she. "Would you have the +power to serve me if you had the will? Is not that the doubt in your +mind?"</p> + +<p>"And if it were?"</p> + +<p>"Then, indeed, I do not know how to answer; but strange things happen +there in London, and it may be that some day even I should have some +power."</p> + +<p>"And you would use it for me?"</p> + +<p>"Could I do less on behalf of a gentleman who has risked his mistress's +favour for my poor cheek's sake?" And she fell to laughing again, her +mirth<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_26" id="Page_26">[Pg 26]</a></span> growing greater as I turned red in the face. "You mustn't blush +when you come to town," she cried, "or they'll make a ballad on you, and +cry you in the streets for a monster."</p> + +<p>"The oftener comes the cause, the rarer shall the effect be," said I.</p> + +<p>"The excuse is well put," she conceded. "We should make a wit of you in +town."</p> + +<p>"What do you in town?" I asked squarely, looking her full in the eyes.</p> + +<p>"Perhaps, sometimes," she laughed, "what I have done once—and to your +good knowledge—since I came to the country."</p> + +<p>Thus she would baffle me with jesting answers as often as I sought to +find out who and what she was. Nor had I better fortune with her mother, +for whom I had small liking, and who had, as it seemed, no more for me. +For she was short in her talk, and frowned to see me with her daughter. +Yet she saw me, I must confess, often with Cydaria in the next days, and +I was often with Cydaria when she did not see me. For Barbara was gone, +leaving me both sore and lonely, all in the mood to find comfort where I +could, and to see manliness in desertion; and there was a charm about +the girl that grew on me insensibly and without my will until I came to +love, not her (as I believed, forgetting that Love loves not to mark his +boundaries too strictly) but her merry temper, her wit and cheerfulness. +Moreover, these things were mingled and spiced with others, more +attractive than<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_27" id="Page_27">[Pg 27]</a></span> all to unfledged youth, an air of the world and a +knowledge of life which piqued my curiosity and sat (it seems so even to +my later mind as I look back) with bewitching incongruity on the +laughing child's face and the unripe grace of girlhood. Her moods were +endless, vying with one another in an ever undetermined struggle for the +prize of greatest charm. For the most part she was merry, frank mirth +passing into sly raillery; now and then she would turn sad, sighing, +"Heigho, that I could stay in the sweet innocent country!" Or again she +would show or ape an uneasy conscience, whispering, "Ah, that I were +like your Mistress Barbara!" The next moment she would be laughing and +jesting and mocking, as though life were nought but a great +many-coloured bubble, and she the brightest-tinted gleam on it.</p> + +<p>Are women so constant and men so forgetful, that all sympathy must go +from me and all esteem be forfeited because, being of the age of +eighteen years, I vowed to live for one lady only on a Monday and was +ready to die for another on the Saturday? Look back; bow your heads, and +give me your hands, to kiss or to clasp!</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Let not you and I inquire<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What has been our past desire,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On what shepherds you have smiled,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or what nymphs I have beguiled;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Leave it to the planets too<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What we shall hereafter do;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For the joys we now may prove,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Take advice of present love.<br /></span> +</div></div> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_28" id="Page_28">[Pg 28]</a></span></p> +<p>Nay, I will not set my name to that in its fulness; Mr Waller is a +little too free for one who has been nicknamed a Puritan to follow him +to the end. Yet there is a truth in it. Deny it, if you will. You are +smiling, madame, while you deny.</p> + +<p>It was a golden summer's evening when I, to whom the golden world was +all a hell, came by tryst to the park of Quinton Manor, there to bid +Cydaria farewell. Mother and sisters had looked askance at me, the +village gossiped, even the Vicar shook a kindly head. What cared I? By +Heaven, why was one man a nobleman and rich, while another had no money +in his purse and but one change to his back? Was not love all in all, +and why did Cydaria laugh at a truth so manifest? There she was under +the beech tree, with her sweet face screwed up to a burlesque of grief, +her little hand lying on her hard heart as though it beat for me, and +her eyes the playground of a thousand quick expressions. I strode up to +her, and caught her by the hand, saying no more than just her name, +"Cydaria." It seemed that there was no more to say; yet she cried, +laughing and reproachful, "Have you no vows for me? Must I go without my +tribute?"</p> + +<p>I loosed her hand and stood away from her. On my soul, I could not +speak. I was tongue-tied, dumb as a dog.</p> + +<p>"When you come courting in London," she said, "you must not come so +empty of lover's baggage. There ladies ask vows, and protestations, and +despair,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_29" id="Page_29">[Pg 29]</a></span> ay, and poetry, and rhapsodies, and I know not what."</p> + +<p>"Of all these I have nothing but despair," said I.</p> + +<p>"Then you make a sad lover," she pouted. "And I am glad to be going +where lovers are less woebegone."</p> + +<p>"You look for lovers in London?" I cried, I that had cried to +Barbara—well, I have said my say on that.</p> + +<p>"If Heaven send them," answered Cydaria.</p> + +<p>"And you will forget me?"</p> + +<p>"In truth, yes, unless you come yourself to remind me. I have no head +for absent lovers."</p> + +<p>"But if I come——" I began in a sudden flush of hope.</p> + +<p>She did not (though it was her custom) answer in raillery; she plucked a +leaf from the tree, and tore it with her fingers as she answered with a +curious glance.</p> + +<p>"Why, if you come, I think you'll wish that you had not come, unless, +indeed, you've forgotten me before you come."</p> + +<p>"Forget you! Never while I live! May I come, Cydaria?"</p> + +<p>"Most certainly, sir, so soon as your wardrobe and your purse allow. +Nay, don't be huffed. Come, Simon, sweet Simon, are we not friends, and +may not friends rally one another? No, and if I choose, I will put my +hand through your arm. Indeed, sir, you're the first gentleman that ever +thrust it away.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_30" id="Page_30">[Pg 30]</a></span> See, it is there now! Doesn't it look well there, +Simon—and feel well there, Simon?" She looked up into my face in +coaxing apology for the hurt she had given me, and yet still with +mockery of my tragic airs. "Yes, you must by all means come to London," +she went on, patting my arm. "Is not Mistress Barbara in London? And I +think—am I wrong, Simon?—that there is something for which you will +want to ask her pardon."</p> + +<p>"If I come to London, it is for you and you only that I shall come," I +cried.</p> + +<p>"No, no. You will come to love where the King loves, to know what he +hides, and to drink of his cup. I, sir, cannot interfere with your great +destiny"; she drew away from me, curtseyed low, and stood opposite to +me, smiling.</p> + +<p>"For you and for you only," I repeated.</p> + +<p>"Then will the King love me?" she asked.</p> + +<p>"God forbid," said I fervently.</p> + +<p>"Oh, and why, pray, your 'God forbid'? You're very ready with your 'God +forbids.' Am I then to take your love sooner than the King's, Master +Simon?"</p> + +<p>"Mine is an honest love," said I soberly.</p> + +<p>"Oh, I should doat on the country, if everybody didn't talk of his +honesty there! I have seen the King in London and he is a fine +gentleman."</p> + +<p>"And you have seen the Queen also, may be?"</p> + +<p>"In truth, yes. Ah, I have shocked you, Simon? Well, I was wrong. Come, +we're in the country;<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_31" id="Page_31">[Pg 31]</a></span> we'll be good. But when we've made a townsman of +you, we'll—we will be what they are in town. Moreover, in ten minutes I +am going home, and it would be hard if I also left you in anger. You +shall have a pleasanter memory of my going than Mistress Barbara's gave +you."</p> + +<p>"How shall I find you when I come to town?"</p> + +<p>"Why, if you will ask any gentleman you meet whether he chances to +remember Cydaria, you will find me as soon as it is well you should."</p> + +<p>I prayed her to tell me more; but she was resolved to tell no more.</p> + +<p>"See, it is late. I go," said she. Then suddenly she came near to me. +"Poor Simon," she said softly. "Yet it is good for you, Simon. Some day +you will be amused at this, Simon"; she spoke as though she were fifty +years older than I. My answer lay not in words or arguments. I caught +her in my arms and kissed her. She struggled, yet she laughed. It shot +through my mind then that Barbara would neither have struggled nor +laughed. But Cydaria laughed.</p> + +<p>Presently I let her go, and kneeling on my knee kissed her hand very +humbly, as though she had been what Barbara was. If she were not—and I +knew not what she was—yet should my love exalt her and make a throne +whereon she might sit a Queen. My new posture brought a sudden gravity +to her face, and she bent over me with a smile that seemed now tender +and almost sorrowful.</p> + +<p>"Poor Simon, poor Simon," she whispered.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_32" id="Page_32">[Pg 32]</a></span> "Kiss my hand now; kiss it as +though I were fit for worship. It will do you no harm, and—and +perhaps—perhaps I shall like to remember it." She bent down and kissed +my forehead as I knelt before her. "Poor Simon," she whispered, as her +hair brushed mine. Then her hand was gradually and gently withdrawn. I +looked up to see her face; her lips were smiling but there seemed a dew +on her lashes. She laughed, and the laugh ended in a little gasp, as +though a sob had fought with it. And she cried out loud, her voice +ringing clear among the trees in the still evening air.</p> + +<p>"That ever I should be so sore a fool!"</p> + +<p>Then she turned and left me, running swiftly over the grass, with never +a look behind her. I watched till she was out of sight, and then sat +down on the ground; with twitching lips and wide-open dreary eyes.</p> + +<p>Ah, for youth's happiness! Alas for its dismal woe! Thus she came into +my life.</p> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_33" id="Page_33">[Pg 33]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_III" id="CHAPTER_III"></a>CHAPTER III</h2> + +<h3>THE MUSIC OF THE WORLD</h3> + + +<p>If a philosopher, learned in the human mind as Flamsteed in the courses +of the stars or the great Newton in the laws of external nature, were to +take one possessed by a strong passion of love or a bitter grief, or +what overpowering emotion you will, and were to consider impartially and +with cold precision what share of his time was in reality occupied by +the thing which, as we are in the habit of saying, filled his thoughts +or swayed his life or mastered his intellect, the world might well smile +(and to my thinking had better smile than weep) at the issue of the +investigation. When the first brief shock was gone, how few out of the +solid twenty-four would be the hours claimed by the despot, however much +the poets might call him insatiable. There is sleeping, and meat and +drink, the putting on and off of raiment and the buying of it. If a man +be of sound body, there is his sport; if he be sane, there are the +interests of this life and provision for the next. And if he be young, +there is nature's own joy in living, which with a patient scornful smile +sets aside his protest that he is<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_34" id="Page_34">[Pg 34]</a></span> vowed to misery, and makes him, +willy-nilly, laugh and sing. So that, if he do not drown himself in a +week and thereby balk the inquiry, it is odds that he will compose +himself in a month, and by the end of a year will carry no more marks of +his misfortune than (if he be a man of good heart) an added sobriety and +tenderness of spirit. Yet all this does not hinder the thing from +returning, on occasion given.</p> + +<p>In my own case—and, if my story be followed to its close, I am +persuaded that I shall not be held to be one who took the disease of +love more lightly than my fellows—this process of convalescence, most +salutary, yet in a sense humiliating, was aided by a train of +circumstances, in which my mother saw the favour of Heaven to our family +and the Vicar the working of Betty Nasroth's prophecy. An uncle of my +mother's had some forty years ago established a manufactory of wool at +Norwich, and having kept always before his eyes the truth that men must +be clothed, howsoever they may think on matters of Church and State, and +that it is a cloth-weaver's business to clothe them and not to think for +them, had lived a quiet life through all the disturbances and had +prospered greatly in his trade. For marriage either time or inclination +had failed him, and, being now an old man, he felt a favourable +disposition towards me, and declared the intention of making me heir to +a considerable portion of his fortune provided that I showed myself +worthy of such kindness. The proof he asked was not beyond reason, +though I<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_35" id="Page_35">[Pg 35]</a></span> found cause for great lamentation in it; for it was that, in +lieu of seeking to get to London, I should go to Norwich and live there +with him, to solace his last years and, although not engaged in his +trade, learn by observation something of the serious occupations of life +and of the condition of my fellow-men, of which things young gentlemen, +said he, were for the most part sadly ignorant. Indeed, they were, and +they thought no better of a companion for being wiser; to do anything or +know anything that might redound to the benefit of man or the honour of +God was not the mode in those days. Nor do I say that the fashion has +changed greatly, no, nor that it will change. Therefore to Norwich I +went, although reluctantly, and there I stayed fully three years, +applying myself to the comforting of my uncle's old age, and consoling +my leisure with the diversions which that great and important city +afforded, and which, indeed, were enough for any rational mind. But +reason and youth are bad bedfellows, and all the while I was like the +Israelites in the wilderness; my thoughts were set upon the Promised +Land and I endured my probation hardly. To this mood I set down the fact +that little of my life at Norwich lives in my memory, and to that little +I seldom recur in thought; the time before it and the time after engross +my backward glances. The end came with my uncle's death, whereat I, the +recipient of great kindness from him, sincerely grieved, and that with +some remorse, since I had caused him<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_36" id="Page_36">[Pg 36]</a></span> sorrow by refusing to take up his +occupation as my own, preferring my liberty and a moderate endowment to +all his fortune saddled with the condition of passing my days as a +cloth-weaver. Had I chosen otherwise, I should have lived a more +peaceful and died a richer man. Yet I do not repent; not riches nor +peace, but the stir of the blood, the work of the hand, and the service +of the brain make a life that a man can look back on without shame and +with delight.</p> + +<p>I was nearing my twenty-second birthday when I returned to Hatchstead +with an air and manner, I doubt not, sadly provincial, but with a lining +to my pocket for whose sake many a gallant would have surrendered some +of his plumes and feathers. Three thousand pounds, invested in my +uncle's business and returning good and punctual profit made of Simon +Dale a person of far greater importance in the eyes of his family than +he had been three years ago. It was a competence on which a gentleman +could live with discretion and modesty, it was a step from which his +foot could rise higher on life's ladder. London was in my power, all it +held of promise and possibility was not beyond the flight of my soaring +mind. My sisters exchanged sharp admonitions for admiring deference, and +my mother feared nothing save that the great place to which I was now +surely destined might impair the homely virtues which she had instilled +into me. As for the Vicar, he stroked his nose<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_37" id="Page_37">[Pg 37]</a></span> and glanced at me with +an eye which spoke so plainly of Betty Nasroth that I fell to laughing +heartily.</p> + +<p>Thus, being in great danger of self-exaltation, I took the best medicine +that I could—although by no means with intention—in waiting on my lord +Quinton, who was then residing at the Manor. Here my swelled spirit was +smartly pricked, and sank soon to its true proportions. I was no great +man here, and although my lord received me very kindly, he had less to +say on the richness of my fortune than on the faults of my manner and +the rustic air of my attire. Yet he bade me go to London, since there a +man, rubbing shoulders with all the world, learnt to appraise his own +value, and lost the ignorant conceit of himself that a village greatness +is apt to breed. Somewhat crestfallen, I thanked him for his kindness, +and made bold to ask after Mistress Barbara.</p> + +<p>"She is well enough," he answered, smiling. "And she is become a great +lady. The wits make epigrams on her, and the fools address verses to +her. But she's a good girl, Simon."</p> + +<p>"I'm sure of it, my lord," I cried.</p> + +<p>"He's a bold man who would be sure of it concerning anyone nowadays," he +said dryly. "Yet so, thank God, it is. See, here's a copy of the verses +she had lately," and he flung me the paper. I glanced over it and saw +much about "dazzling ice," "unmelting snow," "Venus," "Diana," and so +forth.</p> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_38" id="Page_38">[Pg 38]</a></span></p> +<p>"It seems sad stuff, my lord," said I.</p> + +<p>"Why, yes," he laughed; "but it is by a gentle man of repute. Take care +you write none worse, Simon."</p> + +<p>"Shall I have the honour of waiting on Mistress Barbara, my lord?" I +asked.</p> + +<p>"As to that, Simon, we will see when you come. Yes, we must see what +company you keep. For example, on whom else do you think of waiting when +you are set up in London?"</p> + +<p>He looked steadily at me, a slight frown on his brow, yet a smile, and +not an unkind one, on his lips. I grew hot, and knew that I grew red +also.</p> + +<p>"I am acquainted with few in London, my lord," I stammered, "and with +those not well."</p> + +<p>"Those not well, indeed," he echoed, the pucker deepening and the smile +vanishing. Yet the smile came again as he rose and clapped me on the +shoulder.</p> + +<p>"You're an honest lad, Simon," he said, "even though it may have pleased +God to make you a silly one. And, by Heaven, who would have all lads +wise? Go to London, learn to know more folk, learn to know better those +whom you know. Bear yourself as a gentleman, and remember, Simon, +whatsoever else the King may be, yet he is the King."</p> + +<p>Saying this with much emphasis, he led me gently to the door.</p> + +<p>"Why did he say that about the King?" I pondered <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_39" id="Page_39">[Pg 39]</a></span>as I walked homeward +through the park; for although what we all, even in the country, knew of +the King gave warrant enough for the words, my lord had seemed to speak +them to me with some special meaning, and as though they concerned me +more than most men. Yet what, if I left aside Betty's foolish talk, as +my lord surely did, had I to do with the King, or with what he might be +besides the King?</p> + +<p>About this time much stir had been aroused in the country by the +dismissal from all his offices of that great Minister and accomplished +writer, the Earl of Clarendon, and by the further measures which his +enemies threatened against him. The village elders were wont to assemble +on the days when the post came in and discuss eagerly the news brought +from London. The affairs of Government troubled my head very little, but +in sheer idleness I used often to join them, wondering to see them so +perturbed at the happening of things which made mighty little difference +in our retired corner. Thus I was in the midst of them, at the King and +Crown Tavern, on the Green, two days after I had talked with my lord +Quinton. I sat with a mug of ale before me, engrossed in my own thoughts +and paying little heed to what passed, when, to my amazement, the +postman, leaping from his horse, came straight across to me, holding out +in his hand a large packet of important appearance. To receive a letter +was a rare event in my life,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_40" id="Page_40">[Pg 40]</a></span> and a rarer followed, setting the cap on +my surprise. For the man, though he was fully ready to drink my health, +demanded no money for the letter, saying that it came on the service of +His Majesty and was not chargeable. He spoke low enough, and there was a +babble about, but it seemed as though the name of the King made its way +through all the hubbub to the Vicar's ears; for he rose instantly, and, +stepping to my side, sat down by me, crying,</p> + +<p>"What said he of the King, Simon?"</p> + +<p>"Why, he said," I answered, "that this great letter comes to me on the +King's service, and that I have nothing to pay for it," and I turned it +over and over in my hands. But the inscription was plain enough. "To +Master Simon Dale, Esquire, at Hatchstead, by Hatfield."</p> + +<p>By this time half the company was round us, and my Lord Clarendon +well-nigh forgotten. Small things near are greater than great things +afar, and at Hatchstead my affairs were of more moment than the fall of +a Chancellor or the King's choice of new Ministers. A cry arose that I +should open my packet and disclose what it contained.</p> + +<p>"Nay," said the Vicar, with an air of importance, "it may be on a +private matter that the King writes."</p> + +<p>They would have believed that of my lord at the Manor, they could not of +Simon Dale. The Vicar met their laughter bravely.</p> + +<p>"But the King and Simon are to have private<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_41" id="Page_41">[Pg 41]</a></span> matters between them one +day," he cried, shaking his fist at the mockers, himself half in +mockery.</p> + +<p>Meanwhile I opened my packet and read. To this day the amazement its +contents bred in me is fresh. For the purport was that the King, +remembering my father's services to the King's father (and forgetting, +as it seemed, those done to General Cromwell), and being informed of my +own loyal disposition, courage, and good parts, had been graciously +pleased to name me to a commission in His Majesty's Regiment of Life +Guards, such commission being post-dated six months from the day of +writing, in order that Mr Dale should have the leisure to inform himself +of his duties and fit himself for his post; to which end it was the +King's further pleasure that Mr Dale should present himself, bringing +this same letter with him, without delay at Whitehall, and there be +instructed in his drill and in all other matters necessary for him to +know. Thus the letter ended, with a commendation of me to the care of +the Almighty.</p> + +<p>I sat, gasping; the gossips gaped round me; the Vicar seemed stunned. At +last somebody grumbled,</p> + +<p>"I do not love these Guards. What need of guard has the King except in +the love of his subjects?"</p> + +<p>"So his father found, did he?" cried the Vicar, an aflame in a moment.</p> + +<p>"The Life Guards!" I murmured. "It is the first regiment of all in +honour."</p> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_42" id="Page_42">[Pg 42]</a></span></p> +<p>"Ay, my lad," said the Vicar. "It would have been well enough for you to +serve in the ranks of it, but to hold His Majesty's Commission!" Words +failed him, and he flew to the landlord's snuff-box, which that good +man, moved by subtle sympathy, held out, pat to the occasion.</p> + +<p>Suddenly those words of my lord's that had at the time of their +utterance caught my attention so strongly flashed into my mind, seeming +now to find their explanation. If there were fault to be found in the +King, it did not lie with his own servants and officers to find it; I +was now of his household; my lord must have known what was on the way to +me from London when he addressed me so pointedly; and he could know only +because he had himself been the mover in the matter. I sprang up and ran +across to the Vicar, crying,</p> + +<p>"Why, it is my lord's kindness! He has spoken for me."</p> + +<p>"Ay, ay, it is my lord," was grunted and nodded round the circle in the +satisfaction of a discovery obvious so soon as made. The Vicar alone +dissented; he took another pinch and wagged his head petulantly.</p> + +<p>"I don't think it's my lord," said he.</p> + +<p>"But why not, sir, and who else?" I urged.</p> + +<p>"I don't know, but I do not think it is my lord," he persisted.</p> + +<p>Then I laughed at him, and he understood well that I mocked his dislike +of a plain-sailing every<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_43" id="Page_43">[Pg 43]</a></span>day account of anything to which it might be +possible by hook or crook to attach a tag of mystery. He had harped back +to the prophecy, and would not have my lord come between him and his +hobby.</p> + +<p>"You may laugh, Simon," said he gravely. "But it will be found to be as +I say."</p> + +<p>I paid no more heed to him, but caught up my hat from the bench, crying +that I must run at once and offer thanks to my lord, for he was to set +out for London that day, and would be gone if I did not hasten.</p> + +<p>"At least," conceded the Vicar, "you will do no harm by telling him. He +will wonder as much as we."</p> + +<p>Laughing again, I ran off and left the company crowding to a man round +the stubborn Vicar. It was well indeed that I did not linger, for, +having come to the Manor at my best speed, I found my lord's coach +already at the door and himself in cloak and hat about to step into it. +But he waited to hear my breathless story, and, when I came to the pith +of it, snatched my letter from my hand and read it eagerly. At first I +thought he was playing a part and meant only to deny his kindness or +delay the confession of it. His manner soon undeceived me; he was in +truth amazed, as the Vicar had predicted, but more than that, he was, if +I read his face aright, sorely displeased also; for a heavy frown +gathered on his brow, and he walked<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_44" id="Page_44">[Pg 44]</a></span> with me in utter silence the better +half of the length of the terrace.</p> + +<p>"I have nothing to do with it," he said bitterly. "I and my family have +done the King and his too much service to have the giving away of +favours. Kings do not love their creditors, no, nor pay them."</p> + +<p>"But, my lord, I can think of no other friend who would have such +power."</p> + +<p>"Can't you?" he asked, stopping and laying his hand on my shoulder. "May +be, Simon, you don't understand how power is come by in these days, nor +what are the titles to the King's confidence."</p> + +<p>His words and manner dashed my new pride, and I suppose my face grew +glum, for he went on more gently,</p> + +<p>"Nay, lad, since it comes, take it without question. Whatever the source +of it, your own conduct may make it an honour."</p> + +<p>But I could not be content with that.</p> + +<p>"The letter says," I remarked, "that the King is mindful of my father's +services."</p> + +<p>"I had thought that the age of miracles was past," smiled my lord. +"Perhaps it is not, Simon."</p> + +<p>"Then if it be not for my father's sake nor for yours, my lord, I am at +a loss," and I stuffed the letter into my pocket very peevishly.</p> + +<p>"I must be on my way," said my lord, turning towards the coach. "Let me +hear from you when you come, Simon; and I suppose you will come<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_45" id="Page_45">[Pg 45]</a></span> soon +now. You will find me at my house in Southampton Square, and my lady +will be glad of your company."</p> + +<p>I thanked him for his civility, but my face was still clouded. He had +seemed to suspect and hint at some taint in the fountain of honour that +had so unexpectedly flowed forth.</p> + +<p>"I can't tell what to make of it," I cried.</p> + +<p>He stopped again, as he was about to set his foot on the step of his +coach, and turned, facing me squarely.</p> + +<p>"There's no other friend at all in London, Simon?" he asked. Again I +grew red, as he stood watching me. "Is there not one other?"</p> + +<p>I collected myself as well as I could and answered,</p> + +<p>"One that would give me a commission in the Life Guards, my lord?" And I +laughed in scorn.</p> + +<p>My lord shrugged his shoulders and mounted into the coach. I closed the +door behind him, and stood waiting his reply. He leant forward and spoke +across me to the lackey behind, saying, "Go on, go on."</p> + +<p>"What do you mean, my lord?" I cried. He smiled, but did not speak. The +coach began to move; I had to walk to keep my place, soon I should have +to run.</p> + +<p>"My lord," I cried, "how could she——?"</p> + +<p>My lord took out his snuff-box, and opened it.</p> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_46" id="Page_46">[Pg 46]</a></span></p> +<p>"Nay, I cannot tell how," said he, as he carried his thumb to his nose.</p> + +<p>"My lord," I cried, running now, "do you know who Cydaria is?"</p> + +<p>My lord looked at me, as I ran panting. Soon I should have to give in, +for the horses made merry play down the avenue. He seemed to wait for +the last moment of my endurance, before he answered. Then, waving his +hand at the window, he said, "All London knows." And with that he shut +the window, and I fell back breathless, amazed, and miserably chagrined. +For he had told me nothing of all that I desired to know, and what he +had told me did no more than inflame my curiosity most unbearably. Yet, +if it were true, this mysterious lady, known to all London, had +remembered Simon Dale! A man of seventy would have been moved by such a +thing; what wonder that a boy of twenty-two should run half mad with it?</p> + +<p>Strange to say, it seemed to the Vicar's mind no more unlikely and +infinitely more pleasant that the King's favour should be bound up with +the lady we had called Cydaria than that it should be the plain fruit of +my lord's friendly offices. Presently his talk infected me with +something of the same spirit, and we fell to speculating on the identity +of this lady, supposing in our innocence that she must be of very +exalted rank and noble station if indeed all London knew her, and she +had a voice in the appointment of gentlemen to bear His Majesty's<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_47" id="Page_47">[Pg 47]</a></span> +Commission. It was but a step farther to discern for me a most notable +career, wherein the prophecy of Betty Nasroth should find fulfilment and +prove the link that bound together a chain of strange fortune and high +achievement. Thus our evening wore away and with it my vexation. Now I +was all eager to be gone, to set my hand to my work, to try Fate's +promises, and to learn that piece of knowledge which all London had—the +true name of her whom we called Cydaria.</p> + +<p>"Still," said the Vicar, falling into a sudden pensiveness as I rose to +take my leave, "there are things above fortune's favour, or a King's, or +a great lady's. To those cling, Simon, for your name's sake and for my +credit, who taught you."</p> + +<p>"True, sir," said I in perfunctory acknowledgment, but with errant +thoughts. "I trust, sir, that I shall always bear myself as becomes a +gentleman."</p> + +<p>"And a Christian," he added mildly.</p> + +<p>"Ay, sir, and a Christian," I agreed readily enough.</p> + +<p>"Go your way," he said, with a little smile. "I preach to ears that are +full now of other and louder sounds, of strains more attractive and +melodies more alluring. Therefore, now, you cannot listen; nay, I know +that, if you could, you would. Yet it may be that some day—if it be +God's will, soon—the strings that I feebly strike may sound loud and +clear, so that you must hear, however sweetly<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_48" id="Page_48">[Pg 48]</a></span> that other music charms +your senses. And if you hear, Simon, heed; if you hear, heed."</p> + +<p>Thus, with his blessing, I left him. He followed me to the door, with a +smile on his lips but anxiety in his eyes. I went on my way, never +looking back. For my ears were indeed filled with that strange and +enchanting music.</p> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_49" id="Page_49">[Pg 49]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_IV" id="CHAPTER_IV"></a>CHAPTER IV</h2> + +<h3>CYDARIA REVEALED</h3> + + +<p>There, mounted on the coach at Hertford (for at last I am fairly on my +way, and may boast that I have made short work of my farewells), a +gentleman apparently about thirty years of age, tall, well-proportioned, +and with a thin face, clean-cut and high-featured. He was attended by a +servant whom he called Robert, a stout ruddy fellow, who was very jovial +with every post-boy and ostler on the road. The gentleman, being placed +next to me by the chance of our billets, lost no time in opening the +conversation, a step which my rustic backwardness would long have +delayed. He invited my confidence by a free display of his own, +informing me that he was attached to the household of Lord Arlington, +and was returning to London on his lordship's summons. For since his +patron had been called to the place of Secretary of State, he, Mr +Christopher Darrell (such was his name), was likely to be employed by +him in matters of trust, and thus fill a position which I must perceive +to be of some importance. All this was poured forth<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_50" id="Page_50">[Pg 50]</a></span> with wonderful +candour and geniality, and I, in response, opened to him my fortunes and +prospects, keeping back nothing save the mention of Cydaria. Mr Darrell +was, or affected to be, astonished to learn that I was a stranger to +London—my air smacked of the Mall and of no other spot in the world, he +swore most politely—but made haste to offer me his services, proposing +that, since Lord Arlington did not look for him that night, and he had +abandoned his former lodging, we should lodge together at an inn he +named in Covent Garden, when he could introduce me to some pleasant +company. I accepted his offer most eagerly. Then he fell to talking of +the Court, of the households of the King and the Duke, of Madame the +Duchess of Orleans, who was soon to come to England, they said (on what +business he did not know); next he spoke, although now with caution, of +persons no less well known but of less high reputation, referring +lightly to Lady Castlemaine and Eleanor Gwyn and others, while I +listened, half-scandalised, half-pleased. But I called him back by +asking whether he were acquainted with one of the Duchess's ladies named +Mistress Barbara Quinton.</p> + +<p>"Surely," he said. "There is no fairer lady at Court, and very few so +honest."</p> + +<p>I hurried to let him know that Mistress Barbara and I were old friends. +He laughed as he answered,</p> + +<p>"If you'd be more you must lose no time. It is impossible that she +should refuse many more suitors,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_51" id="Page_51">[Pg 51]</a></span> and a nobleman of great estate is now +sighing for her so loudly as to be audible from Whitehall to Temple +Bar."</p> + +<p>I heard the news with interest, with pride, and with a touch of +jealousy; but at this time my own fortunes so engrossed me that soon I +harked back to them, and, taking my courage in both hands, was about to +ask my companion if he had chanced ever to hear of Cydaria, when he gave +a new turn to the talk, by asking carelessly,</p> + +<p>"You are a Churchman, sir, I suppose?"</p> + +<p>"Why, yes," I answered, with a smile, and perhaps a bit of a stare. +"What did you conceive me to be, sir?—a Ranter, or a Papist?"</p> + +<p>"Pardon, pardon, if you find offence in my question," he answered, +laughing. "There are many men who are one or the other, you know."</p> + +<p>"The country has learnt that to its sorrow," said I sturdily.</p> + +<p>"Ay," he said, in a dreamy way, "and maybe will learn it again." And +without more he fell to describing the famous regiment to which I was to +belong, adding at the end:</p> + +<p>"And if you like a brawl, the 'prentices in the City will always find +one for a gentleman of the King's Guards. Take a companion or two with +you when you walk east of Temple Bar. By the way, sir, if the question +may be pardoned, how came you by your commission? For we know that +merit, standing alone, stands generally naked also."</p> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_52" id="Page_52">[Pg 52]</a></span></p> +<p>I was much inclined to tell him all the story, but a shamefacedness came +over me. I did not know then how many owed all their advancement to a +woman's influence, and my manly pride disdained to own the obligation. I +put him off by a story of a friend who wished to remain unnamed, and, +after the feint of some indifferent talk, seized the chance of a short +silence to ask him my great question.</p> + +<p>"Pray, sir, have you ever heard of a lady who goes sometimes by the name +of Cydaria?" said I. I fear my cheek flushed a little, do what I could +to check such an exhibition of rawness.</p> + +<p>"Cydaria? Where have I heard that name? No, I know nobody—and yet——" +He paused; then, clapping his hand on his thigh, cried, "By my faith, +yes; I was sure I had heard it. It is a name from a play; from—from the +'Indian Emperor.' I think your lady must have been masquerading."</p> + +<p>"I thought as much," I nodded, concealing my disappointment.</p> + +<p>He looked at me a moment with some curiosity, but did not press me +further; and, since we had begun to draw near London, I soon had my mind +too full to allow me to think even of Cydaria. There is small profit in +describing what every man can remember for himself—his first sight of +the greatest city in the world, with its endless houses and swarming +people. It made me still and silent as we clattered along, and I forgot +my companion until I chanced to look towards him, and found an amused<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_53" id="Page_53">[Pg 53]</a></span> +glance fixed on my face. But, as we reached the City, he began to point +out where the fire had been, and how the task of rebuilding progressed. +Again wonder and anticipation grew on me.</p> + +<p>"Yes," said he, "it's a fine treasure-house for a man who can get the +key to it."</p> + +<p>Yet, amazed as I was, I would not have it supposed that I was altogether +an unlicked cub. My stay in Norwich, if it had not made me a Londoner, +had rubbed off some of the plough-mud from me, and I believe that my new +friend was not speaking wholly in idle compliment when he assured me +that I should hold my own very well. The first lesson I learnt was not +to show any wonder that I might feel, but to receive all that chanced as +though it were the most ordinary thing in the world; for this, beyond +all, is the hall-mark of your quality. Indeed, it was well that I was so +far fit to show my face, since I was to be plunged into the midst of the +stream with a suddenness which startled, although it could not displease +me. For the first beginning I was indebted to Mr Darrell, for what +followed to myself alone and a temper that has never been of the most +patient.</p> + +<p>We had reached our inn and refreshed ourselves, and I was standing +looking out on the evening and wondering at what time it was proper for +me to seek my bed when my friend entered with an eager air, and advanced +towards me, crying,</p> + +<p>"Dear sir, I hope your wardrobe is in order, for I am resolved to redeem +my word forthwith, and to-night<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_54" id="Page_54">[Pg 54]</a></span> to carry you with me to an +entertainment for which I have received an invitation. I am most anxious +for you to accompany me, as we shall meet many whom you should know."</p> + +<p>I was, of course, full of excuses, but he would admit of one only; and +that one I could not or would not make. For I had provided myself with a +neat and proper suit, of which I was very far from ashamed, and which, +when assumed by me and set off with a new cloak to match it, was +declared by Mr Darrell to be most apt for the occasion.</p> + +<p>"You lack nothing but a handsome cane," said he, "and that I can myself +provide. Come, let us call chairs and be gone, for it grows late +already."</p> + +<p>Our host that evening was Mr Jermyn, a gentleman in great repute at +Court, and he entertained us most handsomely at the New Spring Garden, +according to me a welcome of especial courtesy, that I might be at my +ease and feel no stranger among the company. He placed me on his left +hand, Darrell being on my other side, while opposite to me sat my lord +the Earl of Carford, a fine-looking man of thirty or a year or two +above. Among the guests Mr Darrell indicated several whose names were +known to me, such as the witty Lord Rochester and the French Ambassador, +M. de Cominges, a very stately gentleman. These, however, being at the +other end of the table, I made no acquaintance with them, and contented +myself with listening to the conversation of my neighbours, putting in a +word<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_55" id="Page_55">[Pg 55]</a></span> where I seemed able with propriety and without displaying an +ignorance of which I was very sensible. It seemed to me that Lord +Carford, to whom I had not been formally presented (indeed, all talked +to one another without ceremony) received what I said with more than +sufficient haughtiness and distance; but on Darrell whispering +humorously that he was a great lord, and held himself even greater than +he was, I made little of it, thinking my best revenge would be to give +him a lesson in courtesy. Thus all went well till we had finished eating +and sat sipping our wine. Then my Lord Carford, being a little +overheated with what he had drunk, began suddenly to inveigh against the +King with remarkable warmth and freedom, so that it seemed evident that +he smarted under some recent grievance. The raillery of our host, not +too nice or delicate, soon spurred him to a discovery of his complaint. +He asked nothing better than to be urged to a disclosure.</p> + +<p>"Neither rank, nor friendship, nor service," he said, smiting the table, +"are enough to gain the smallest favour from the King. All goes to the +women; they have but to ask to have. I prayed the King to give me for a +cousin of mine a place in the Life Guards that was to be vacant, and +he—by Heaven, he promised! Then comes Nell, and Nell wants it for a +friend—and Nell has it for a friend—and I go empty!"</p> + +<p>I had started when he spoke of the Life Guards,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_56" id="Page_56">[Pg 56]</a></span> and sat now in a state +of great disturbance. Darrell also, as I perceived, was very uneasy, and +made a hasty effort to alter the course of the conversation; but Mr +Jermyn would not have it.</p> + +<p>"Who is the happy—the new happy man, that is Mistress Nell's friend?" +he asked, smiling.</p> + +<p>"Some clod from the country," returned the Earl; "his name, they say, is +Dale."</p> + +<p>I felt my heart beating, but I trust that I looked cool enough as I +leant across and said,</p> + +<p>"Your lordship is misinformed. I have the best of reasons for saying +so."</p> + +<p>"The reasons may be good, sir," he retorted with a stare, "but they are +not evident."</p> + +<p>"I am myself just named to a commission in the King's Life Guards, and +my name is Dale," said I, restraining myself to a show of composure, for +I felt Darrell's hand on my arm.</p> + +<p>"By my faith, then, you're the happy man," sneered Carford. "I +congratulate you on your——"</p> + +<p>"Stay, stay, Carford," interposed Mr Jermyn.</p> + +<p>"On your—godmother," said Carford.</p> + +<p>"You're misinformed, my lord," I repeated fiercely, although by now a +great fear had come upon me. I knew whom they meant by "Nell."</p> + +<p>"By God, sir, I'm not misinformed," said he.</p> + +<p>"By God, my lord," said I—though I had not been wont to swear—"By God, +my lord, you are."</p> + +<p>Our voices had risen in anger; a silence fell on<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_57" id="Page_57">[Pg 57]</a></span> the party, all turning +from their talk to listen to us. Carford's face went red when I gave him +the lie so directly and the more fiercely because, to my shame and +wonder, I had begun to suspect that what he said was no lie. But I +followed up the attack briskly.</p> + +<p>"Therefore, my lord," I said, "I will beg of you to confess your error, +and withdraw what you have said."</p> + +<p>He burst into a laugh.</p> + +<p>"If I weren't ashamed to take a favour from such a hand, I wouldn't be +ashamed to own it," said he.</p> + +<p>I rose from my seat and bowed to him gravely. All understood my meaning; +but he, choosing to treat me with insolence, did not rise nor return my +salute, but sat where he was, smiling scornfully.</p> + +<p>"You don't understand me, it seems, my lord," said I. "May be this will +quicken your wits," and I flung the napkin which had been brought to me +after meat lightly in his face. He sprang up quickly enough then, and so +did all the company. Darrell caught me by the arm and held me fast. +Jermyn was by Carford's side. I hardly knew what passed, being much +upset by the sudden quarrel, and yet more by the idea, that Carford's +words had put in my head. I saw Jermyn come forward, and Darrell, +loosing my arm, went and spoke to him. Lord Carford resumed his seat; I +leant against the back of my chair and waited. Darrell was not long in +returning to me.</p> + +<p>"You'd best go home," he said, in a low voice.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_58" id="Page_58">[Pg 58]</a></span> "I'll arrange +everything. You must meet to-morrow morning."</p> + +<p>I nodded my head; I had grown cool and collected now. Bowing slightly to +Carford, and low to my host and the company, I turned to the door. As I +passed through it, I heard the talk break out again behind me. I got +into my chair, which was waiting, and was carried back to my inn in a +half-amazed state. I gave little thought to the quarrel or to the +meeting that awaited me. My mind was engrossed with the revelation to +which I had listened. I doubted it still; nay, I would not believe it. +Yet whence came the story unless it were true? And it seemed to fit most +aptly and most lamentably with what had befallen me, and to throw light +on what had been a puzzle. It was hard on four years since I had parted +from Cydaria; but that night I felt that, if the thing were true, I +should receive Carford's point in my heart without a pang.</p> + +<p>Being, as may be supposed, little inclined for sleep, I turned into the +public room of the inn and called for a bottle of wine. The room was +empty save for a lanky fellow, very plainly dressed, who sat at the +table reading a book. He was drinking nothing, and when—my wine having +been brought—I called in courtesy for a second glass and invited him to +join me, he shook his head sourly. Yet presently he closed his book, +which I now perceived to be a Bible, and fixed an earnest gaze on me. He +was a strange-looking fellow; his face was very thin and long,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_59" id="Page_59">[Pg 59]</a></span> and his +hair (for he wore his own and no wig) hung straight from the crown of +his head in stiff wisps. I set him down as a Ranter, and was in no way +surprised when he began to inveigh against the evils of the times, and +to prophesy the judgment of God on the sins of the city.</p> + +<p>"Pestilence hath come and fire hath come," he cried. "Yet wickedness is +not put away, and lewdness vaunteth herself, and the long-suffering of +God is abused."</p> + +<p>All this seeming to me very tedious, I sipped my wine and made no +answer. I had enough to think of, and was content to let the sins of the +city alone.</p> + +<p>"The foul superstition of Papacy raises its head again," he went on, +"and godly men are persecuted."</p> + +<p>"Those same godly men," said I, "have had their turn before now, sir. To +many it seems as if they were only receiving what they gave." For the +fellow had roused me to some little temper by his wearisome cursing.</p> + +<p>"But the Time of the Lord is at hand," he pursued, "and all men shall +see the working of His wrath. Ay, it shall be seen even in palaces."</p> + +<p>"If I were you, sir," said I dryly, "I would not talk thus before +strangers. There might be danger in it."</p> + +<p>He scanned my face closely for a few moments; then, leaning across +towards me, he said earnestly:</p> + +<p>"You are young, and you look honest. Be warned<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_60" id="Page_60">[Pg 60]</a></span> in time; fight on the +Lord's side, and not among His enemies. Verily the time cometh."</p> + +<p>I had met many of these mad fellows, for the country was full of them, +some being disbanded soldiers of the Commonwealth, some ministers who +had lost their benefices; but this fellow seemed more crazy than any I +had seen: though, indeed, I must confess there was a full measure of +truth, if not of charity, in the description of the King's Court on +which he presently launched himself with great vigour of declamation and +an intense, although ridiculous, exhibition of piety.</p> + +<p>"You may be very right, sir——"</p> + +<p>"My name is Phineas Tate."</p> + +<p>"You may be very right, friend Phineas," said I, yawning; "but I can't +alter all this. Go and preach to the King."</p> + +<p>"The King shall be preached to in words that he must hear," he retorted +with a frown, "but the time is not yet."</p> + +<p>"The time now is to seek our beds," said I, smiling. "Do you lodge +here?"</p> + +<p>"For this night I lie here. To-morrow I preach to this city."</p> + +<p>"Then I fear you are likely to lie in a less comfortable place +to-morrow." And bidding him good-night, I turned to go. But he sprang +after me, crying, "Remember, the time is short"; and I doubt whether I +should have got rid of him had not Darrell at that moment entered the +room. To my surprise,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_61" id="Page_61">[Pg 61]</a></span> the two seemed to know one another, for Darrell +broke into a scornful laugh, exclaiming:</p> + +<p>"Again, Master Tate! What, haven't you left this accursed city to its +fate yet?"</p> + +<p>"It awaits its fate," answered the Ranter sternly, "even as those of +your superstition wait theirs."</p> + +<p>"My superstition must look out for itself," said Darrell, with a shrug; +and, seeing that I was puzzled, he added, "Mr Tate is not pleased with +me because I am of the old religion."</p> + +<p>"Indeed?" I cried. "I didn't know you were a—of the old church." For I +remembered with confusion a careless remark that I had let fall as we +journeyed together.</p> + +<p>"Yes," said he simply.</p> + +<p>"Yes!" cried Tate. "You—and your master also, is he not?"</p> + +<p>Darrell's face grew stern and cold.</p> + +<p>"I would have you careful, sir, when you touch on my Lord Arlington's +name," he said. "You know well that he is not of the Roman faith, but is +a convinced adherent of the Church of this country."</p> + +<p>"Is he so?" asked Tate, with an undisguised sneer.</p> + +<p>"Come, enough!" cried Darrell in sudden anger. "I have much to say to my +friend, and shall be glad to be left alone with him."</p> + +<p>Tate made no objection to leaving us, and, gathering up his Bible, went +out scowling.</p> + +<p>"A pestilent fellow," said Darrell. "He'll find<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_62" id="Page_62">[Pg 62]</a></span> himself laid by the +heels before long. Well, I have settled your affair with my Lord +Carford."</p> + +<p>But my affair with Carford was not what I wanted to hear about. I came +to him as he sat down at the table, and, laying my hand on his shoulder, +asked simply,</p> + +<p>"Is it true?"</p> + +<p>He looked up at me with great kindness, and answered gently,</p> + +<p>"It is true. I guessed it as soon as you spoke of Cydaria. For Cydaria +was the part in which she first gained the favour of the town, and that, +taken with your description of her, gave me no room for doubt. Yet I +hoped that it might not be as I feared, or, at least, that the thing +could be hidden. It seems, though, that the saucy wench has made no +secret of it. Thus you are landed in this quarrel, and with a good +swordsman."</p> + +<p>"I care nothing for the quarrel——" I began.</p> + +<p>"Nay, but it is worse than you think. For Lord Carford is the gentleman +of whom I spoke, when I told you that Mistress Quinton had a noble +suitor. And he is high in her favour and higher yet in her father's. A +quarrel with him, and on such a cause, will do you no good in Lord +Quinton's eyes."</p> + +<p>Indeed, it seemed as though all the furies had combined to vex me. Yet +still my desire was to learn of Cydaria, for even now I could hardly +believe what Darrell told me. Sitting down by him, I listened while he +related to me what he knew of her; it was<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_63" id="Page_63">[Pg 63]</a></span> little more than the +mentioning of her true name told me—a name familiar, alas, through all +the country, sung in ballads, bandied to and fro in talk, dragged even +into high disputes that touched the nation's fortunes; for in those +strange days, when the world seemed a very devil's comedy, great +countries, ay, and Holy Churches, fought behind the mask of an actress's +face or chose a fair lady for their champion. I hope, indeed, that the +end sanctified the means; they had great need of that final +justification. Castlemaine and Nell Gwyn—had we not all read and heard +and gossiped of them? Our own Vicar had spoken to me of Nell, and would +not speak too harshly, for Nell was Protestant. Yes, Nell, so please +you, was Protestant. And other grave divines forgave her half her sins +because she flouted most openly and with pert wit the other lady, who +was suspected of an inclination towards Rome and an intention to charm +the King into the true Church's bosom. I also could have forgiven her +much; for, saving my good Darrell's presence, I hated a Papist worse +than any man, saving a Ranter. Yes, I would have forgiven her all, and +applauded her pretty face and laughed at her pretty ways. I had looked +to do as much when I came to town, being, I must confess, as little +straightlaced as most young men. But I had not known that the thing was +to touch me close. Could I forgive her my angry humiliation and my sore +heart, bruised love and burning ridicule? I could forgive her for being +all she now was. How<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_64" id="Page_64">[Pg 64]</a></span> could I forgive her for having been once my +Cydaria?</p> + +<p>"Well, you must fight," said Darrell, "although it is not a good +quarrel," and he shook my hand very kindly with a sigh of friendship.</p> + +<p>"Yes, I must fight," said I, "and after that—if there be an after—I +must go to Whitehall."</p> + +<p>"To take up your commission?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"To lay it down, Mr Darrell," said I with a touch of haughtiness. "You +don't think that I could bear it, since it comes from such a source?"</p> + +<p>He pressed my hand, saying with a smile that seemed tender,</p> + +<p>"You're from the country. Not one in ten would quarrel with that here."</p> + +<p>"Yes, I'm from the country," said I. "It was in the country that I knew +Cydaria."</p> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_65" id="Page_65">[Pg 65]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_V" id="CHAPTER_V"></a>CHAPTER V</h2> + +<h3>I AM FORBIDDEN TO FORGET</h3> + + +<p>It must be allowed that by no possible union of unlucky chances could I, +desiring to appear as a staid, sober gentleman, and not as a ruffler or +debauched gallant, have had a worse introduction to my new life. To +start with a duel would have hurt me little, but a duel on such a cause +and on behalf of such a lady (for I should seem to be fighting the +battle of one whose name was past defending) would make my reputation +ridiculous to the gay, and offensive to all the more decent people of +the town. I thought enough on this sad side of the matter that night at +the inn, and despair would have made a prey of me had I not hoped to +clear myself in some degree by the step on which I had determined. For I +was resolved to abandon the aid in my career that the King's unexpected +favour had offered, and start afresh for myself, free from the illicit +advantage of a place gained undeservedly. Yet, amid my chagrin, and in +spite of my virtuous intentions, I found myself wondering that Cydaria +had remembered; I will not protest that I found<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_66" id="Page_66">[Pg 66]</a></span> no pleasure in the +thought; a young man whose pride was not touched by it would have +reached a higher summit of severity or a lower depth of insensibility +than was mine. Yet here also I made vows of renunciation, concerning +which there is nought to say but that, while very noble, they were in +all likelihood most uncalled for. What would or could Cydaria be to me +now? She flew at bigger game. She had flung me a kindly crumb of +remembrance; she would think that we were well quit; nay, that I was +overpaid for my bruised heart and dissipated illusion.</p> + +<p>It was a fine fresh morning when Mr Darrell and I set out for the place +of meeting, he carrying a pair of swords. Mr Jermyn had agreed to +support my opponent; and I was glad to learn that the meeting was to be +restricted to the principals, and not, as too often occurred, to embroil +the seconds also in a senseless quarrel. We walked briskly; and crossing +the Oxford Road at Holborn, struck into the fields beyond Montague +House. We were first at the rendezvous, but had not to wait long before +three chairs appeared, containing Lord Carford, his second, and a +surgeon. The chairmen, having set down their burdens, withdrew some way +off, and we, being left to ourselves, made our preparations as quickly +as we could; Darrell, especially, urging speed; for it seemed that a +rumour of the affair had got about the town, and he had no desire for +spectators.</p> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_67" id="Page_67">[Pg 67]</a></span></p> +<p>Although I desire to write without malice and to render fullest justice +to those whom I have least cause to love, I am bound to say that my Lord +Carford seemed to be most bitterly incensed against me, whereas I was in +no way incensed against him. In the first instance, he had offended +without premeditation, for he had not known who I was; his subsequent +insolence might find excuse in the peremptory phrasing of my demand for +apology, too curt, perhaps, for a young and untried man. Honour forced +me to fight, but nothing forced me to hate, and I asked no better than +that we should both escape with as little hurt as the laws of the game +allowed. His mood was different; he had been bearded, and was in a mind +to give my beard a pull—I speak in a metaphor, for beard had I +none—and possessing some reputation as a swordsman, he could not well +afford to let me go untouched. An old sergeant of General Cromwell's, +resident at Norwich, had instructed me in the use of the foils, but I +was not my lord's equal, and I set it down to my good luck and his fury +that I came off no worse than the event proved. For he made at me with +great impetuosity, and from beginning to end of the affair I was wholly +concerned in defending myself; this much I achieved successfully for +some moments, and I heard Mr Jermyn say, "But he stands his ground +well"; then came a cunning feint followed by a fierce attack and a sharp +pang in my left arm near the shoulder,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_68" id="Page_68">[Pg 68]</a></span> while the sleeve of my shirt +went red in a moment. The seconds darted in between us, and Darrell +caught me round the waist.</p> + +<p>"I'm glad it was no worse," I whispered to him with a smile; then I +turned very sick, and the meadow started to go round and round me. For +some minutes I knew nothing more, but when I revived, the surgeon was +busy in binding up my arm, while the three gentlemen stood together in a +group a little way apart. My legs shook under me, and doubtless I was as +white as my mother's best linen, but I was well content, feeling that my +honour was safe, and that I had been as it were baptised of the company +of gentlemen. So Mr Jermyn seemed to think; for when my arm was dressed, +and I had got my clothes on again with some pain, and a silken sling +under my elbow, he came and craved the surgeon's leave to carry me off +to breakfast. The request was granted, on a promise that I would abstain +from inflaming food and from all strong liquors. Accordingly we set out, +I dissembling a certain surprise inspired in my countryman's mind by the +discovery that my late enemy proposed to be of the party. Having come to +a tavern in Drury Lane, we were regaled very pleasantly; Mr Jermyn, who +(although a small man, and not in my opinion well-shaped) might be seen +to hold himself in good esteem, recounting to us his adventures in love +and his exploits on the field of honour. Meanwhile, Lord<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_69" id="Page_69">[Pg 69]</a></span> Carford +treated me with distinguished courtesy, and I was at a loss to +understand his changed humour until it appeared that Darrell had +acquainted him with my resolution to surrender the commission that the +King had bestowed on me. As we grew more free with one another, his +lordship referred plainly to the matter, declaring that my conduct +showed the nicest honour, and praying me to allow his own surgeon to +visit me every day until my wound should be fully cured. His marked +politeness, and the friendliness of the others, put me in better humour +than I had been since the discovery of the evening before, and when our +meal was ended, about eleven o'clock, I was well-nigh reconciled to life +again. Yet it was not long before Carford and I were again good enemies, +and crossed swords with no less zest, although on a different field.</p> + +<p>I had been advised by Darrell to return at once to my inn, and there +rest quietly until evening, leaving my journey to Whitehall for the next +day, lest too much exertion should induce a fever in me; and in +obedience to his counsel I began to walk gently along Drury Lane on my +way back to Covent Garden. My Lord Carford and Mr Jermyn had gone off to +a cock-fight, where the King was to be, while Darrell had to wait upon +the Secretary at his offices; therefore I was alone, and, going easily, +found fully enough to occupy my attention in the business and incredible +stir<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_70" id="Page_70">[Pg 70]</a></span> of the town. I thought then, and think still, that nowhere in the +world is there such a place for an idle man as London; where else has he +spread for him so continual a banquet of contemplation, where else are +such comedies played every hour for his eyes' delight? It is well enough +to look at a running river, or to gaze at such mighty mountains as I saw +when I journeyed many years later into Italy; but the mountain moves +not, and the stream runs always with the same motion and in its wonted +channel. Give me these for my age, but to a young man a great city is +queen of all.</p> + +<p>So I was thinking as I walked along; or so I think now that I must have +thought; for in writing of his youth it is hard for a man to be sure +that he does not transfer to that golden page some of the paler +characters which later years print on his mind. Perhaps I thought of +nothing at all, save that this man here was a fine fellow, that girl +there a pretty wench, that my coat became me well, and my wounded arm +gave me an interesting air. Be my meditations what they might, they were +suddenly interrupted by the sight of a crowd in the Lane near to the +Cock and Pie tavern. Here fifty or sixty men and women, decent folk +some, others porters, flower-girls, and such like, were gathered in a +circle round a man who was pouring out an oration or sermon with great +zeal and vehemence. Having drawn nearer, I paused out of a curiosity +which turned to amusement when I discovered<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_71" id="Page_71">[Pg 71]</a></span> in the preacher my good +friend Phineas Tate, with whom I had talked the evening before. It +seemed that he had set about his task without delay, and if London were +still unmindful of its sins, the fault was not to lie at Mr Tate's door. +On he plunged, sparing neither great nor small; if the Court were +sinful, so was Drury Lane; if Castlemaine (he dealt freely in names, and +most sparingly in titles of courtesy) were what he roundly said she was, +which of the women about him was not the same? How did they differ from +their betters, unless it were that their price was not so high, and in +what, save audacity, were they behind Eleanor Gwyn? He hurled this last +name forth as though it marked a climax of iniquity, and a start ran +through me as I heard it thus treated. Strange to say, something of the +same effect seemed to be produced on his other hearers. Hitherto they +had listened with good-natured tolerance, winking at one another, +laughing when the preacher's finger pointed at a neighbour, shrugging +comfortable shoulders when it turned against themselves. They are +long-suffering under abuse, the folk of London; you may say much what +you will, provided you allow them to do what they will, and they support +the imputation of unrighteousness with marvellous composure, as long as +no man takes it in hand to force them to righteousness. As they are now, +they were then, though many changes have passed over the country<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_72" id="Page_72">[Pg 72]</a></span> and +the times; so will they be, although more transformations come.</p> + +<p>But, as I say, this last name stirred the group to a new mood. Friend +Phineas perceived the effect that he had made, but set a wrong meaning +on it. Taking it as a ground for encouragement, he loosed his tongue yet +more outrageously, and so battered the unhappy subject of his censures +that my ears tingled, and suddenly I strode quickly up to the group, +intent on silencing him; but a great brawny porter, with a dirty red +face, was beforehand with me. Elbowing his way irresistibly through the +ranks, he set himself squarely before Phineas, and, wagging his head +significantly enough, growled out:</p> + +<p>"Say what you will of Castlemaine and the rest, Master Ranter, but keep +your tongue off Nelly."</p> + +<p>A murmur of applause ran round. They knew Nelly: here in the Lane was +her kingdom.</p> + +<p>"Let Nelly alone," said the porter, "if you value whole bones, master."</p> + +<p>Phineas was no coward, and threats served only to fan the flame of his +zeal. I had started to stop his mouth; it seemed likely that I must +employ myself in saving his head. His lean frame would crack and break +in the grasp of his mighty assailant, and I was loth that the fool +should come to harm; so I began to push my way through towards the pair, +and arrived just as Phineas, having shot a most pointed dart, was about +to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_73" id="Page_73">[Pg 73]</a></span> pay for his too great skill with a blow from the porter's +mutton-fist. I caught the fellow's arm as he raised it, and he turned +fiercely on me, growling, "Are you his friend, then?"</p> + +<p>"Not I," I answered. "But you'd kill him, man."</p> + +<p>"Let him heed what he says, then. Kill him! Ay, and spare him readily!"</p> + +<p>The affair looked awkward enough, for the feeling was all one way, and I +could do little to hinder any violence. A girl in the crowd reminded me +of my helplessness, touching my wounded arm lightly, and saying, "Are +you hungry for more fighting, sir?"</p> + +<p>"He's a madman," said I. "Let him alone; who heeds what he says?"</p> + +<p>Friend Phineas did not take my defence in good part.</p> + +<p>"Mad, am I?" he roared, beating with his fist on his Bible. "You'll know +who was mad when you lie howling in hell fire. And with you that——" +And on he went again at poor Nell.</p> + +<p>The great porter could endure no more. With a seemingly gentle motion of +his hand he thrust me aside, pushing me on to the bosom of a buxom +flower-girl who, laughing boisterously, wound a pair of sturdy red arms +round me. Then he stepped forward, and seizing Phineas by the scruff of +the neck shook him as a dog shakes a rat. To what more violence he would +have proceeded <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_74" id="Page_74">[Pg 74]</a></span>I do not know; for suddenly from above us, out of a +window of the Cock and Pie, came a voice which sent a stir through my +veins.</p> + +<p>"Good people, good people," said the voice, "what with preaching and +brawling, a body can get no sleep in the Lane. Pray go and work, or if +you've no work, go and drink. Here are the means." And a shower of small +coins came flying down on our heads, causing an immediate wild scramble. +My flower-girl loosed me that she might take her part in this fray; the +porter stood motionless, still holding poor Phineas, limp and lank, in +his hand; and I turned my eyes upwards to the window of the Cock and +Pie.</p> + +<p>I looked up, and I saw her. Her sunny brown hair was about her +shoulders, her knuckles rubbed her sleepy eyes to brightness, and a +loose white bodice, none too high nor too carefully buttoned about the +neck, showed that her dressing was not done. Indeed, she made a pretty +picture, as she leant out, laughing softly, and now shading her face +from the sun with one hand, while she raised the other in mocking +reproof of the preacher.</p> + +<p>"Fie, sir, fie," she said. "Why fall on a poor girl who earns an honest +living, gives to the needy, and is withal a good Protestant?" Then she +called to the porter, "Let him go with what life you've left in him. Let +him go."</p> + +<p>"You heard what he said of you——" began the fellow sullenly.</p> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_75" id="Page_75">[Pg 75]</a></span></p> +<p>"Ay, I hear what everybody says of me," she answered carelessly. "Let +him go."</p> + +<p>The porter sulkily released his prey, and Phineas, set free, began to +gasp and shake himself. Another coin whistled down to the porter, who, +picking it up, shambled off with a last oath of warning to his enemy. +Then, and then only, did she look at me, who had never ceased to look at +her. When she saw me, her smile grew broader, and her eyes twinkled in +surprise and delight.</p> + +<p>"A happy morning!" she said, clasping her little hands. "Ah, a happy +morning! Why, 'tis Simon, my Simon, my little Simon from the country. +Come up to me, Simon. No, no, your pardon; I'll come down to you, Simon. +In the parlour, in the parlour. Quick! I'll be down in an instant."</p> + +<p>The vision vanished, but my gaze dwelt on the window where it had been, +and I needed Phineas Tate's harsh voice to rouse me from my stupor.</p> + +<p>"Who is the woman?" he demanded.</p> + +<p>"Why—why—Mistress Gwyn herself," I stammered.</p> + +<p>"Herself—the woman, herself?" he asked eagerly. Then he suddenly drew +himself up and, baring his head, said solemnly, "Thanks be to God, +thanks be to God, for it may be His will that this brand should be +plucked from the burning." And before I could speak or attempt to hinder +him he stepped<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_76" id="Page_76">[Pg 76]</a></span> swiftly across the pathway and entered the tavern. I, +seeing nothing else that I could do, followed him straightway and as +fast as I could.</p> + +<p>I was in a maze of feeling. The night before I had reasoned with myself +and schooled my wayward passion to a resolve neither to see nor to speak +with her. Resentment at the shame she had brought on me aided my +stubbornness, and helped me to forget that I had been shamed because she +had remembered me. But now I followed Phineas Tate. For be memory ever +so keen and clear, yes, though it seem able to bring every feature, +every shade, and every pose before a man's eyes in absolute fidelity, +yet how poor and weak a thing it is beside the vivid sight of bodily +eyes; that paints the faded picture all afresh in hot and glowing +colours, and the man who bade defiance to the persuasions of his +recollection falls beaten down by the fierce force of a present vision. +I followed Phineas Tate, perhaps using some excuse with myself—indeed, +I feared that he would attack her rudely and be cruelly plain with +her—yet knowing in my heart that I went because I could do nothing +else, and that when she called, every atom of life in me answered to her +summons. So in I went, to find Phineas standing bolt upright in the +parlour of the tavern, turning the leaves of his book with eager +fingers, as though he sought some text that was in his mind. I passed by +him and leant against the wall by the window;<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_77" id="Page_77">[Pg 77]</a></span> so we awaited her, each +of us eager, but with passions most unlike.</p> + +<p>She came, daintily dressed now, although still negligently. She put her +head round the corner of the door, radiant with smiles, and with no more +shame or embarrassment than if our meeting in this way were the most +ordinary thing. Then she caught sight of Phineas Tate and cried, +pouting, "But I wanted to be alone with my Simon, my dear Simon."</p> + +<p>Phineas caught the clue her words gave him with perverse readiness.</p> + +<p>"Alone with him, yes!" he cried. "But what of the time when you must be +alone with God?"</p> + +<p>"Alas," said she, coming in, and seating herself at the table, "is there +more still? Indeed, I thought you had said all your say outside. I am +very wicked; let that end it."</p> + +<p>He advanced to the table and stood directly opposite to her, stretching +his arm towards her, while she sat with her chin on her hands, watching +him with eyes half-amused, half-apprehensive.</p> + +<p>"You who live in open sin——" he began; before he could say more I was +by his elbow.</p> + +<p>"Hold your tongue," I said. "What is it to you?"</p> + +<p>"Let him go on, Simon," said she.</p> + +<p>And go on he did, telling all—as I prayed, more than all—the truth, +while she heard him patiently. Yet now and then she gave herself a +little shake,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_78" id="Page_78">[Pg 78]</a></span> as though to get rid of something that threatened to +stick. Then he fell on his knees and prayed fervently, she still sitting +quiet and I standing awkwardly near. He finished his prayer, and, rising +again, looked earnestly at her. Her eyes met his in good nature, almost +in friendliness. He stretched out his hand to her again, saying,</p> + +<p>"Child, cannot you understand? Alas, your heart is hardened! I pray +Christ our Lord to open your eyes and change your heart, that at the +last your soul may be saved."</p> + +<p>Nelly examined the pink nails of her right hand with curious attention.</p> + +<p>"I don't know that I'm more of a sinner than many others," said she. "Go +to Court and preach, sir."</p> + +<p>A sudden fury seemed to come over him, and he lost the gentleness with +which he had last addressed her.</p> + +<p>"The Word shall be heard at the Court," he cried, "in louder accents +than mine. Their cup is full, the measure of their iniquity is pressed +down and running over. All who live shall see."</p> + +<p>"Like enough," said Nell, as though the matter were grown very tedious, +and she yawned just a little; but, as she glanced at me, a merry light +gleamed in her eyes. "And what is to befall Simon here?" she asked.</p> + +<p>He turned on me with a start, seeming to have forgotten my presence.</p> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_79" id="Page_79">[Pg 79]</a></span></p> +<p>"This young man?" he asked, looking full in my face. "Why, his face is +honest; if he choose his friends well, he may do well."</p> + +<p>"I am of his friends," said Nell, and I defy any man on earth to have +given the lie to such a claim so made.</p> + +<p>"And for you, may the Lord soften your heart," said Phineas to her.</p> + +<p>"Some say it's too soft already," said Nell.</p> + +<p>"You will see me again," said he to her, and moved towards the door. But +once more he faced me before he went, and looked very intently at me. +Then he passed out, leaving us alone.</p> + +<p>At his going Nell sighed for relief, stretched out her arms, and let +them fall on the table in front of her; then she sprang up and ran to +me, catching hold of my hands.</p> + +<p>"And how goes all at pretty Hatchstead?" she asked.</p> + +<p>I drew back, releasing my hands from hers, and I spoke to her stiffly.</p> + +<p>"Madame," said I, "this is not Hatchstead, nor do you seem the lady whom +I knew at Hatchstead."</p> + +<p>"Indeed, you seem very like the gentleman I knew, and knew well, there," +she retorted.</p> + +<p>"And you, very unlike the lady."</p> + +<p>"Nay, not so unlike as you think. But are you also going to preach to +me?"</p> + +<p>"Madame," said I in cold courtesy, "I have to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_80" id="Page_80">[Pg 80]</a></span> thank you for a good +remembrance of me, and for your kindness in doing me a service; I assure +you I prize it none the less, because I may not accept it."</p> + +<p>"You may not accept it?" she cried. "What? You may not accept the +commission?"</p> + +<p>"No, madame," said I, bowing low.</p> + +<p>Her face was like a pretty child's in disappointment.</p> + +<p>"And your arm? How come you to be wounded? Have you been quarrelling +already?"</p> + +<p>"Already, madame."</p> + +<p>"But with whom, and why?"</p> + +<p>"With my Lord Carford. The reason I need not weary you with."</p> + +<p>"But I desire to know it."</p> + +<p>"Because my lord said that Mistress Gwyn had obtained me my commission."</p> + +<p>"But it was true."</p> + +<p>"Doubtless; yet I fought."</p> + +<p>"Why, if it were true?"</p> + +<p>I made her no answer. She went and seated herself again at the table, +looking up at me with eyes in which I seemed to read pain and puzzle.</p> + +<p>"I thought it would please you, Simon," she said, with a coaxing glance +that at least feigned timidity.</p> + +<p>"Never have I been so proud as on the day I received it," said I; "and +never, I think, so happy, unless, may be, when you and I walked in the +Manor park."</p> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_81" id="Page_81">[Pg 81]</a></span></p> +<p>"Nay, Simon, but you will be glad to have it, even though I obtained it +for you."</p> + +<p>"I shall not have it. I go to Whitehall to-morrow to surrender it."</p> + +<p>She sprang up in wonder, and anger also showed in her eyes.</p> + +<p>"To surrender it? You mean in truth to surrender it? And because it came +from me?"</p> + +<p>Again I could do nothing but bow. That I did with the best air I could +muster, although I had no love for my part in this scene. Alas for a man +who, being with her, must spend his time in chiding!</p> + +<p>"Well, I wish I hadn't remembered you," she said resentfully.</p> + +<p>"Indeed, madame, I also wish that I had forgotten."</p> + +<p>"You have, or you would never use me so."</p> + +<p>"It is my memory that makes me rough, madame. Indeed, how should I have +forgotten?"</p> + +<p>"You hadn't?" she asked, advancing nearer to me. "No, in truth I believe +you hadn't! And, Simon, listen!" Now she stood with her face but a yard +from mine, and again her lips were curved with mirth and malice. +"Listen, Simon," she said, "you had not forgotten; and you shall not +forget."</p> + +<p>"It is very likely," said I simply; and I took up my hat from the table.</p> + +<p>"How fares Mistress Barbara?" asked Nell suddenly.</p> + +<p>"I have not waited on her," I answered.</p> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_82" id="Page_82">[Pg 82]</a></span></p> +<p>"Then indeed I am honoured, although our meeting was somewhat by chance. +Ah, Simon, I want to be so angry with you. But how can I be angry? I can +never be angry. Why" (and here she came even a little closer, and now +she was smiling most damnably—nay, I mean most delightfully; but it is +often much the same), "I was not very angry even when you kissed me, +Simon."</p> + +<p>It is not for me to say what answer to that speech she looked to +receive. Mine was no more than a repetition of my bow.</p> + +<p>"You'll keep the commission, Simon?" she whispered, standing on tiptoe, +as though she would reach my ear.</p> + +<p>"I can't," said I, bowing no more, and losing, I fear, the air of grave +composure that I had striven to maintain. I saw what seemed a light of +triumph in her eyes. Yet that mood passed quickly from her. She grew +pensive and drew away from me. I stepped towards the door, but a hand +laid on my arm arrested me.</p> + +<p>"Simon," she asked, "have you sweet memories of Hatchstead?"</p> + +<p>"God forgive me," said I confusedly, "sweeter than my hopes of heaven."</p> + +<p>She looked at me gravely for an instant. Then, sighing, she said,</p> + +<p>"Then I wish you had not come to town, but stayed there with your +memories. They were of me?"</p> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_83" id="Page_83">[Pg 83]</a></span></p> +<p>"Of Cydaria."</p> + +<p>"Ah, of Cydaria," she echoed, with a little smile.</p> + +<p>But a moment later the full merriment of laughter broke out again on her +face, and, drawing her hand away, she let me go, crying after me,</p> + +<p>"But you shall not forget, Simon. No, you shall not forget."</p> + +<p>There I left her, standing in the doorway of the inn, daring me to +forget. And my brain seemed all whirling and swirling as I walked down +the Lane.</p> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_84" id="Page_84">[Pg 84]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VI" id="CHAPTER_VI"></a>CHAPTER VI</h2> + +<h3>AN INVITATION TO COURT</h3> + + +<p>I spent the rest of that day in my inn, agreeably to the advice of the +surgeon, and the next morning, finding my wound healing well, and my +body free from fever, I removed to Mr Darrell's new lodging by the +Temple, where he had most civilly placed two rooms at my disposal. Here +also I provided myself with a servant, a fellow named Jonah Wall, and +prepared to go to Whitehall as the King's letter commanded me. Of Mr +Darrell I saw nothing; he went off before I came, having left for me +with Robert, his servant, a message that he was much engaged with the +Secretary's business, and prayed to be excused from affording me his +company. Yet I was saved from making my journey alone—a thing that +would have occasioned me much trepidation—by the arrival of my Lord +Quinton. The reverence of our tender years is hard to break down, and I +received my visitor with an uneasiness which was not decreased by the +severity of his questions concerning my doings. I made haste to tell him +that I had determined to resign the commission bestowed<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_85" id="Page_85">[Pg 85]</a></span> on me. These +tidings so transformed his temper that he passed from cold reproof to an +excess of cordiality, being pleased to praise highly a scruple as +honourable as (he added with a shrug) it was rare, and he began to laugh +at himself as he recounted humorously how his wrath against me had grown +higher and higher with each thing that had come to his ears. Eager now +to make amends, he offered to go with me to Whitehall, proposing that we +should ride in his coach to the Mall, and walk thence together. I +accepted his company most gratefully, since it would save me from +betraying an ignorance of which I was ashamed, and strengthen my courage +for the task before me. Accordingly we set out, and as we went my lord +took occasion to refer to my acquaintance with Mistress Nell, suggesting +plainly enough, although not directly, that I should be wise to abandon +her society at the same time that I laid down the commission she had +obtained for me. I did not question his judgment, but avoided giving any +promise to be guided by it. Perceiving that I was not willing to be +pressed, he passed from the topic with a sigh, and began to discourse on +the state of the kingdom. Had I paid more heed to what he said I might +have avoided certain troubles into which I fell afterwards, but, busy +staring about me, I gave him only such attention as courtesy required, +and not enough for a proper understanding of his uneasiness at the +dealings of our Court with the French King and the visit<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_86" id="Page_86">[Pg 86]</a></span> of the King's +sister, Madame d'Orléans, of which the town was full. For my lord, +although a most loyal gentleman, hated both the French and the Papists, +and was much grieved at the King's apparent inclination in their favour. +So he talked, I nodding and assenting to all, but wondering when he +would bid me wait on my lady, and whether Mistress Barbara was glad that +my Lord Carford's sword had passed through my arm only and done no +greater hurt.</p> + +<p>Thus we came to the Mall, and having left the coach, set out to walk +slowly, my lord having his arm through mine. I was very glad to be seen +thus in his company, for, although not so great a man here as at +Hatchstead, he had no small reputation, and carried himself with a noble +air. When we had gone some little way, being very comfortable with one +another, and speaking now of lighter matters, I perceived at some +distance a party of gentlemen, three in number; they were accompanied by +a little boy very richly dressed, and were followed at a short interval +by five or six more gentlemen, among whom I recognised immediately my +friend Darrell. It seemed then that the Secretary's business could be +transacted in leisurely fashion! As the first group passed along, I +observed that the bystanders uncovered, but I had hardly needed this +sign to tell me that the King was of the party. I was familiar with his +features, but he seemed to me even a more swarthy man than all the +descriptions of his blackness<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_87" id="Page_87">[Pg 87]</a></span> had led me to expect. He bore himself +with a very easy air, yet was not wanting in dignity, and being +attracted by him I fell to studying his appearance with such interest +that I came near to forgetting to remove my hat. Presently he seemed to +observe us; he smiled, and beckoned with his hand to my lord, who went +forward alone, leaving me still watching the King and his companions.</p> + +<p>I had little difficulty in recognising the name of one; the fine figure, +haughty manner, and magnificent attire showed him to be the famous Duke +of Buckingham, whose pride lay in seeming more of a King than the King +himself. While my lord spoke with the King, this nobleman jested with +the little boy, who answered with readiness and vivacity. As to the last +member of the group (whom the Duke seemed to treat with some neglect) I +was at a loss. His features were not distinguished except by a perfect +composure and self-possession, but his bearing was very courtly and +graceful. He wore a slight, pleasant, yet rather rigid smile, and his +attitude was as though he listened to what his master said with even +excessive deference and urbanity. His face was marked, and to my +thinking much disfigured, by a patch or plaster worn across the nose, as +though to hide some wound or scar.</p> + +<p>After a few minutes, during which I waited very uneasily, my lord turned +and signed to me to approach. I obeyed, hat in hand, and in a condition +of great apprehension. To be presented to the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_88" id="Page_88">[Pg 88]</a></span> King was an honour +disquieting enough; what if my lord had told His Majesty that I declined +to bear his commission through a disapproval of his reasons for granting +me the favour? But when I came near I fell into the liveliest fear that +my lord had done this very thing; for the King was smiling +contemptuously, Buckingham laughing openly, and the gentleman with the +plaster regarding me with a great and very apparent curiosity. My lord, +meanwhile, wore a propitiatory but doubtful air, as though he prayed but +hardly hoped a gracious reception for me. Thus we all stood a moment in +complete silence, I invoking an earthquake or any convulsion of nature +that should rescue me from my embarrassment. Certainly the King did not +hasten to do me this kindly service. He grew grave and seemed +displeased, nay, he frowned most distinctly, but then he smiled, yet +more as though he must than because he would. I do not know how the +thing would have ended if the Duke of Buckingham had not burst out +laughing again, at which the King could not restrain himself, but began +to laugh also, although still not as though he found the jest altogether +to his liking.</p> + +<p>"So, sir," said the King, composing his features as he addressed me, +"you are not desirous of bearing my commission and fighting my enemies +for me?"</p> + +<p>"I would fight for your Majesty to the death," said I timidly, but with +fervour.</p> + +<p>"Yet you are on the way to ask leave to resign your commission. Why, +sir?"</p> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_89" id="Page_89">[Pg 89]</a></span></p> +<p>I could not answer; it was impossible to state my reason to him.</p> + +<p>"The utility of a woman's help," observed the King, "was apparent very +early in the world's history. Even Adam was glad of it."</p> + +<p>"She was his wife, Sir," interposed the Duke.</p> + +<p>"I have never read of the ceremony," said the King. "But if she were, +what difference?"</p> + +<p>"Why, it makes a great deal of difference in many ways, Sir," laughed +Buckingham, and he glanced with a significance which I did not +understand at the boy who was waiting near with a weary look on his +pretty face.</p> + +<p>The King laughed carelessly and called, "Charles, come hither."</p> + +<p>Then I knew that the boy must be the King's son, afterwards known as +Earl of Plymouth, and found the meaning of the Duke's glance.</p> + +<p>"Charles, what think you of women?" the King asked.</p> + +<p>The pretty child thought for a moment, then answered, looking up,</p> + +<p>"They are very tiresome creatures, Sir."</p> + +<p>"Why, so they are, Charles," said the King gravely.</p> + +<p>"They will never let a thing alone, Sir."</p> + +<p>"No, they won't, Charles, nor a man either."</p> + +<p>"It's first this, Sir, then that—a string, or a garter, or a bow."</p> + +<p>"Yes, Charles; or a title, or a purse, or a commission,"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_90" id="Page_90">[Pg 90]</a></span> said the King. +"Shall we have no more to do with them?"</p> + +<p>"I would desire no more at all, Sir," cried the boy.</p> + +<p>"It appears, Mr Dale," said the King, turning to me, "that Charles here, +and you, and I, are all of one mind on the matter of women. Had Heaven +been on our side, there would have been none of them in the world."</p> + +<p>He seemed to be examining me now with some degree of attention, although +I made, I fear, a very poor figure. Lord Quinton came to my rescue, and +began to enlarge on my devotion to His Majesty's person and my eagerness +to serve him in any way I might, apart from the scruple which he had +ventured to disclose to the King.</p> + +<p>"Mr Dale says none of these fine things for himself," remarked the King.</p> + +<p>"It is not always those that say most who do most, Sir," pleaded my +lord.</p> + +<p>"Therefore this young gentleman who says nothing will do everything?" +The King turned to his companion who wore the plaster, and had as yet +not spoken at all. "My Lord Arlington," said he, "it seems that I must +release Mr Dale."</p> + +<p>"I think so, Sir," answered Arlington, on whom I looked with much +curiosity, since he was Darrell's patron.</p> + +<p>"I cannot have servants who do not love me," pursued the King.</p> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_91" id="Page_91">[Pg 91]</a></span></p> +<p>"Nor subjects," added Buckingham, with a malicious smile.</p> + +<p>"Although I am not, unhappily, so free in the choice of my Ministers," +said the King. Then he faced round on me and addressed me in a cold +tone:</p> + +<p>"I am reluctant, sir, to set down your conduct to any want of affection +or loyalty towards me. I shall be glad if you can show me that my +forbearance is right." With this he bent his head slightly, and moved +on. I bowed very low, shame and confusion so choking me that I had not a +word to say. Indeed, I seemed damned beyond redemption, so far as my +fortunes depended on obtaining the King's favour.</p> + +<p>Again I was left to myself, for the King, anxious, as I took it, to show +that his displeasure extended to me only, had stopped again to speak +with my lord. But in a moment, to my surprise, Arlington was at my side.</p> + +<p>"Come, sir," said he very genially, "there's no need of despair. The +King is a little vexed, but his resentment is not obstinate; and let me +tell you that he has been very anxious to see you."</p> + +<p>"The King anxious to see me?" I cried.</p> + +<p>"Why, yes. He has heard much of you." His lips twitched as he glanced at +me. I had the discretion to ask no further explanation, and in a moment +he grew grave again, continuing, "I also am glad to meet with you, for +my good friend<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_92" id="Page_92">[Pg 92]</a></span> Darrell has sounded your praises to me. Sir, there are +many ways of serving the King."</p> + +<p>"I should rejoice with all my heart to find one of them, my lord," I +answered.</p> + +<p>"I may find you one, if you are willing to take it."</p> + +<p>"I should be your lordship's most humble and grateful servant."</p> + +<p>"Tut, if I gave, I should ask in return," said he. And he added +suddenly, "You're a good Churchman, I suppose, Mr Dale?"</p> + +<p>"Why, yes, my lord; I and all my family."</p> + +<p>"Good, good. In these days our Church has many enemies. It is threatened +on more than one side."</p> + +<p>I contented myself with bowing; when the Secretary spoke to me on such +high matters, it was for me to listen, and not to bandy opinions with +him.</p> + +<p>"Yes, we are much threatened," said he. "Well, Mr Dale, I shall trust +that we may have other meetings. You are to be found at Mr Darrell's +lodging? You may look to hear from me, sir." He moved away, cutting +short my thanks with a polite wave of his hand.</p> + +<p>Suddenly to my amazement the King turned round and called to me:</p> + +<p>"Mr Dale, there is a play to be acted at my house to-morrow evening. +Pray give me the pleasure of your company."</p> + +<p>I bowed almost to the ground, scarcely able to believe my ears.</p> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_93" id="Page_93">[Pg 93]</a></span></p> +<p>"And we'll try," said the King, raising his voice so that not only we +who were close to him but the gentlemen behind also must hear, "to find +an ugly woman and an honest man, between whom we may place you. The +first should not be difficult to come on, but the second, I fear, is +well-nigh impossible, unless another stranger should come to Court. +Good-day to you, Mr Dale." And away he went, smiling very happily and +holding the boy's hand in his.</p> + +<p>The King's immediate party was no sooner gone than Darrell ran up to me +eagerly, and before my lord could rejoin me, crying:</p> + +<p>"What did he say to you?"</p> + +<p>"The King? Why, he said——"</p> + +<p>"No, no. What did my lord say?" He pointed to Arlington, who was walking +off with the King.</p> + +<p>"He asked whether I were a good Churchman, and told me that I should +hear from him. But if he is so solicitous about the Church, how does he +endure your religion?"</p> + +<p>Darrell had no time to answer, for Lord Quinton's grave voice struck in.</p> + +<p>"He is a wise man who can answer a question touching my Lord Arlington's +opinion of the Church," said he.</p> + +<p>Darrell flushed red, and turned angrily on the interrupter.</p> + +<p>"You have no cause, my lord," he cried, "to attack the Secretary's +churchmanship."</p> + +<p>"Then you have no cause, sir," retorted Quinton,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_94" id="Page_94">[Pg 94]</a></span> "to defend it with so +much temper. Come, let me be. I have said as much to the Secretary's +face, and he bore it with more patience than you can muster on his +behalf."</p> + +<p>By this time I was in some distress to see my old friend and my new at +such variance, and the more as I could not understand the ground of +their difference; the Secretary's suspected leaning towards the Popish +religion had not reached our ears in the country. But Darrell, as though +he did not wish to dispute further with a man his superior in rank and +age, drew off with a bow to my lord and a kindly nod to me, and rejoined +the other gentlemen in attendance on the King and his party.</p> + +<p>"You came off well with the King, Simon," said my lord, taking my arm +again. "You made him laugh, and he counts no man his enemy who will do +him that service. But what did Arlington say to you?"</p> + +<p>When I repeated the Secretary's words, he grew grave, but he patted my +arm in a friendly fashion, saying,</p> + +<p>"You've shown wisdom and honour in this first matter, lad. I must trust +you in others. Yet there are many who have no faith in my Lord +Arlington, as Englishman or Churchman either."</p> + +<p>"But," cried I, "does not Lord Arlington do as the King bids him?"</p> + +<p>My lord looked full in my face, and answered steadily,</p> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_95" id="Page_95">[Pg 95]</a></span></p> +<p>"I think he does, Simon." But then, as though he had said enough, or +even too much, he went on: "Come, you needn't grow too old or too +prudent all at once. Since you have seen the King, your business at +Whitehall will wait. Let us turn back to the coach and be driven to my +house, for, besides my lady, Barbara is there to-day on leave from her +attendance, and she will be glad to renew her acquaintance with you."</p> + +<p>It was my experience as a young man, and, perchance, other young men may +have found the like, that whatsoever apprehensions or embarrassments +might be entailed by meeting a comely damsel, and however greatly her +displeasure and scorn were to be dreaded, yet the meeting was not +forgone, all perils being taken rather than that certain calamity. +Therefore I went with my lord to his handsome house in Southampton +Square, and found myself kissing my lady's hand before I was resolved on +how I should treat Mistress Barbara, or on the more weighty question of +how I might look to be treated by her.</p> + +<p>I had not to wait long for the test. After a few moments of my lady's +amiable and kindly conversation, Barbara entered from the room behind, +and with her Lord Carford. He wore a disturbed air, which his affected +composure could not wholly conceal; her cheek was flushed, and she +seemed vexed; but I did not notice these things so much as the change +which had been wrought in her by the last<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_96" id="Page_96">[Pg 96]</a></span> four years. She had become a +very beautiful woman, ornamented with a high-bred grace and exquisite +haughtiness, tall and slim, carrying herself with a delicate dignity. +She gave me her hand to kiss, carelessly enough, and rather as though +she acknowledged an old acquaintance than found any pleasure in its +renewal. But she was gentle to me, and I detected in her manner a subtle +indication that, although she knew all, yet she pitied rather than +blamed; was not Simon very young and ignorant, and did not all the world +know how easily even honest young men might be beguiled by cunning +women? An old friend must not turn her back on account of a folly, +distasteful as it might be to her to be reminded of such matters.</p> + +<p>My lord, I think, read his daughter very well, and, being determined to +afford me an opportunity to make my peace, engaged Lord Carford in +conversation, and bade her lead me into the room behind to see the +picture that Lely had lately painted of her. She obeyed; and, having +brought me to where it hung, listened patiently to my remarks on it, +which I tried to shape into compliments that should be pleasing and yet +not gross. Then, taking courage, I ventured to assure her that I fell +out with Lord Carford in sheer ignorance that he was a friend of her +family, and would have borne anything at his hands had I known it. She +smiled, answering,</p> + +<p>"But you did him no harm," and she glanced at my arm in its sling.</p> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_97" id="Page_97">[Pg 97]</a></span></p> +<p>She had not troubled herself to ask how it did, and I, a little nettled +at her neglect, said:</p> + +<p>"Nay, all ended well. I alone was hurt, and the great lord came off +safe."</p> + +<p>"Since the great lord was in the right," said she, "we should all +rejoice at that. Are you satisfied with your examination of the picture, +Mr Dale?"</p> + +<p>I was not to be turned aside so easily.</p> + +<p>"If you hold me to have been wrong, then I have done what I could to put +myself in the right since," said I, not doubting that she knew of my +surrender of the commission.</p> + +<p>"I don't understand," said she, with a quick glance. "What have you +done?"</p> + +<p>In wonder that she had not been informed, I cried,</p> + +<p>"I have obtained the King's leave to decline his favour."</p> + +<p>The colour which had been on her cheeks when she first entered had gone +before now, but at my words it returned a little.</p> + +<p>"Didn't my lord tell you?" I asked.</p> + +<p>"I haven't seen him alone this week past," she answered.</p> + +<p>But she had seen Carford alone, and that in the last hour past. It was +strange that he, who had known my intention and commended it so highly, +should not have touched on it. I looked in her eyes; I think she +followed my thoughts, for she glanced aside, and said in visible +embarrassment,</p> + +<p>"Shall we return?"</p> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_98" id="Page_98">[Pg 98]</a></span></p> +<p>"You haven't spoken on the matter with my Lord Carford, then?" I asked.</p> + +<p>She hesitated a moment, then answered as though she did not love the +truth but must tell it,</p> + +<p>"Yes; but he said nothing of this. Tell me of it."</p> + +<p>So I told her in simple and few words what I had done.</p> + +<p>"Lord Carford said nothing of it," she said, when I ended. Then she +added, "But although you will not accept the favour, you have rendered +thanks for it?"</p> + +<p>"I couldn't find my tongue when I was with the King," I answered with a +shamefaced laugh.</p> + +<p>"I didn't mean to the King," said Barbara.</p> + +<p>It was my turn to colour now; I had not been long enough in town to lose +the trick.</p> + +<p>"I have seen her," I murmured.</p> + +<p>Barbara suddenly made me a curtsey, saying bitterly,</p> + +<p>"I wish you joy, sir, of your acquaintance."</p> + +<p>When a man is alone with a beautiful lady, he is apt not to love an +intruder; yet on my soul I was glad to see Carford in the doorway. He +came towards us, but before he could speak Barbara cried to him,</p> + +<p>"My lord, Mr Dale tells me news that will interest you."</p> + +<p>"Indeed, madame, and what?"</p> + +<p>"Why, that he has begged the King's leave to resign his commission. +Doesn't it surprise you?"</p> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_99" id="Page_99">[Pg 99]</a></span></p> +<p>He looked at her, at me, and again at her. He was caught, for I knew +that he had been fully acquainted with my purpose. He gathered himself +together to answer her.</p> + +<p>"Nay, I knew," he said, "and had ventured to applaud Mr Dale's +resolution. But it did not come into my mind to speak of it."</p> + +<p>"Strange," said she, "when we were deploring that Mr Dale should obtain +his commission by such means!"</p> + +<p>She rested her eyes on him steadily, while her lips were set in a +scornful smile. A pause followed her words.</p> + +<p>"I daresay I should have mentioned it, had we not passed to another +topic," said he at last and sullenly enough. Then, attempting a change +in tone, he added, "Won't you rejoin us?"</p> + +<p>"I am very well here," she said.</p> + +<p>He waited a moment, then bowed, and left us. He was frowning heavily, +and, as I judged, would have greeted another quarrel with me very +gladly, had I been minded to give him an opportunity; but thinking it +fair that I should be cured from the first encounter before I faced a +second, I held my peace till he was gone; then I said to Barbara,</p> + +<p>"I wonder he didn't tell you."</p> + +<p>Alas for my presumption! The anger that had been diverted on to +Carford's head swept back to mine.</p> + +<p>"Indeed, why should he?" she cried. "All the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_100" id="Page_100">[Pg 100]</a></span> world can't be always +thinking of you and your affairs, Mr Dale."</p> + +<p>"Yet you were vexed because he hadn't."</p> + +<p>"I vexed! Not I!" said Barbara haughtily.</p> + +<p>I could not make that out; she had seemed angry with him. But because I +spoke of her anger, she was angry now with me. Indeed I began to think +that little Charles, the King, and I had been right in that opinion in +which the King found us so much of a mind. Suddenly Barbara spoke.</p> + +<p>"Tell me what she is like, this friend of yours," she said. "I have +never seen her."</p> + +<p>It leapt to my lips to cry, "Ay, you have seen her!" but I did not give +utterance to the words. Barbara had seen her in the park at Hatchstead, +seen her more than once, and more than once found sore offence in what +she saw. There is wisdom in silence; I was learning that safety might +lie in deceit. The anger under which I had suffered would be doubled if +she knew that Cydaria was Nell and Nell Cydaria. Why should she know? +Why should my own mouth betray me and add my bygone sins to the offences +of to-day? My lord had not told her that Nell was Cydaria. Should I +speak where my lord was silent? Neither would I tell her of Cydaria.</p> + +<p>"You haven't seen her?" I asked.</p> + +<p>"No; and I would learn what she is like."</p> + +<p>It was a strange thing to command me, yet<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_101" id="Page_101">[Pg 101]</a></span> Barbara's desire joined with +my own thoughts to urge me to it. I began tamely enough, with a stiff +list of features and catalogue of colours. But as I talked recollection +warmed my voice; and when Barbara's lips curled scornfully, as though +she would say, "What is there in this to make men fools? There is +nothing in all this," I grew more vehement and painted the picture with +all my skill. What malice began, my ardour perfected, until, engrossed +in my fancy, I came near to forgetting that I had a listener, and ended +with a start as I found Barbara's eyes fixed on mine, while she stood +motionless before me. My exultation vanished, and confusion drove away +my passion.</p> + +<p>"You bade me describe her," said I lamely. "I do not know whether others +see as I do, but such is she to my eyes."</p> + +<p>A silence followed. Barbara's face was not flushed now, but rather +seemed paler than it was wont to be. I could not tell how it was, but I +knew that I had wounded her. Is not beauty jealous, and who but a clod +will lavish praise on one fair face while another is before him? I +should have done better to play the hypocrite and swear that my folly, +not Nell's features, was to blame. But now I was stubborn and would +recall not a word of all my raptures. Yet I was glad that I had not told +her who Cydaria was.</p> + +<p>The silence was short. In an instant Barbara gave a little laugh, +saying,</p> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_102" id="Page_102">[Pg 102]</a></span></p> +<p>"Small wonder you were caught, poor Simon! Yes, the creature must be +handsome enough. Shall we return to my mother?"</p> + +<p>On that day she spoke no more with me.</p> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_103" id="Page_103">[Pg 103]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VII" id="CHAPTER_VII"></a>CHAPTER VII</h2> + +<h3>WHAT CAME OF HONESTY</h3> + + +<p>I should sin against the truth and thereby rob this my story of its +solitary virtue were I to pretend that my troubles and perplexities, +severe as they seemed, outweighed the pleasure and new excitement of my +life. Ambition was in my head, youth in my veins, my eyes looked out on +a gay world with a regard none too austere. Against these things even +love's might can wage but an equal battle. For the moment, I must +confess, my going to Court, with the prospect it opened and the chances +it held, dominated my mind, and Jonah Wall, my servant, was kept busy in +preparing me for the great event. I had made a discovery concerning this +fellow which afforded me much amusement: coming on him suddenly, I found +him deeply engaged on a Puritan Psalm-book, sighing and casting up his +eyes to heaven in a ludicrous excess of glum-faced piety. I pressed him +hard and merrily, when it appeared that he was as thorough a Ranter as +my friend Phineas himself, and held the Court and all in it to be +utterly given over to Satan, an opinion<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_104" id="Page_104">[Pg 104]</a></span> not without some warrant, had +he observed any moderation in advancing it. Not wishing to harm him, I +kept my knowledge to myself, but found a malicious sport in setting him +to supply me with all the varieties of raiment, perfumes, and other +gauds—that last was his word, not mine—which he abhorred, but which Mr +Simon Dale's new-born desire for fashion made imperative, however little +Mr Simon Dale's purse could properly afford the expense of them. The +truth is that Mistress Barbara's behaviour spurred me on. I had no mind +to be set down a rustic; I could stomach disapproval and endure +severity; pitied for a misguided be-fooled clod I would not be; and the +best way to avoid such a fate seemed to lie in showing myself as +reckless a gallant and as fine a roisterer as any at Whitehall. So I +dipped freely and deep into my purse, till Jonah groaned as woefully for +my extravagance as for my frivolity. All day he was in great fear lest I +should take him with me to Court to the extreme peril of his soul; but +prudence at last stepped in and bade me spare myself the cost of a rich +livery by leaving him behind.</p> + +<p>Now Heaven forbid that I should imitate my servant's sour folly (for, if +a man must be a fool, I would have him a cheerful fool) or find anything +to blame in the pomp and seemly splendour of a Royal Court; yet the +profusion that met my eyes amazed me. It was the King's whim that on +this night himself, his friends, and principal gentlemen<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_105" id="Page_105">[Pg 105]</a></span> should, for no +reason whatsoever except the quicker disbursing of their money, assume +Persian attire, and they were one and all decked out in richest Oriental +garments, in many cases lavishly embroidered with precious stones. The +Duke of Buckingham seemed all ablaze, and the other courtiers and wits +were little less magnificent, foremost among them being the young Duke +of Monmouth, whom I now saw for the first time and thought as handsome a +youth as I had set eyes on. The ladies did not enjoy the licence offered +by this new fashion, but they contrived to hold their own in the French +mode, and I, who had heard much of the poverty of the nation, the +necessities of the fleet, and the straits in which the King found +himself for money, was left gaping in sheer wonder whence came all the +wealth that was displayed before my eyes. My own poor preparations lost +all their charm, and I had not been above half an hour in the place +before I was seeking a quiet corner in which to hide the poverty of my +coat and the plainness of my cloak. But the desire for privacy thus bred +in me was not to find satisfaction. Darrell, whom I had not met all day, +now pounced on me and carried me off, declaring that he was charged to +present me to the Duke of York. Trembling between fear and exultation, I +walked with him across the floor, threading my way through the dazzling +throng that covered the space in front of His Majesty's dais. But before +we came to the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_106" id="Page_106">[Pg 106]</a></span> Duke, a gentleman caught my companion by the arm and +asked him how he did in a hearty, cheerful, and rather loud voice. +Darrell's answer was to pull me forward and present me, saying that Sir +Thomas Clifford desired my acquaintance, and adding much that erred +through kindness of my parts and disposition.</p> + +<p>"Nay, if he's your friend, it's enough for me, Darrell," answered +Clifford, and putting his mouth to Darrell's ear he whispered. Darrell +shook his head, and I thought that the Treasurer seemed disappointed. +However, he bade me farewell with cordiality.</p> + +<p>"What did he ask you?" said I, when we started on our way again.</p> + +<p>"Only whether you shared my superstition," answered Darrell with a +laugh.</p> + +<p>"They're all mighty anxious about my religion," thought I. "It would do +no harm if they bestowed more attention on their own."</p> + +<p>Suddenly turning a corner, we came on a group in a recess hung on three +sides with curtains and furnished with low couches in the manner of an +Oriental divan. The Duke of York, who seemed to me a handsome courtly +prince, was sitting, and by him Lord Arlington. Opposite to them stood a +gentleman to whom the Duke, when I had made my bow, presented me, +bidding me know Mr Hudleston, the Queen's Chaplain. I was familiar with +his name, having often, heard of the Romish priest who<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_107" id="Page_107">[Pg 107]</a></span> befriended the +King in his flight from Worcester. I was examining his features with the +interest that an unknown face belonging to a well-known name has for us, +when the Duke addressed me with a suave and lofty graciousness, his +manner being in a marked degree more ceremonious than the King's.</p> + +<p>"My Lord Arlington," said he, "has commended you, sir, as a young +gentleman of most loyal sentiments. My brother and we who love him have +great need of the services of all such."</p> + +<p>I stammered out an assurance of devotion. Arlington rose and took me by +the arm, whispering that I had no need to be embarrassed. But Mr +Hudleston turned a keen and searching glance on me, as though he would +read my thoughts.</p> + +<p>"I'm sure," said Arlington, "that Mr Dale is most solicitous to serve +His Majesty in all things."</p> + +<p>I bowed, saying to the Duke,</p> + +<p>"Indeed I am, sir. I ask nothing but an opportunity."</p> + +<p>"In all things?" asked Hudleston abruptly. "In all things, sir?" He +fixed his keen eyes on my face.</p> + +<p>Arlington pressed my arm and smiled pleasantly; he knew that kindness +binds more sheaves than severity.</p> + +<p>"Come, Mr Dale says in all things," he observed. "Do we need more, +sir?"</p> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_108" id="Page_108">[Pg 108]</a></span></p> +<p>But the Duke was rather of the priest's temper than of the Minister's.</p> + +<p>"Why, my lord," he answered, "I have never known Mr Hudleston ask a +question without a reason for it."</p> + +<p>"By serving the King in all things, some mean in all things in which +they may be pleased to serve the King," said Hudleston gravely. "Is Mr +Dale one of these? Is it the King's pleasure or his own that sets the +limit to his duty and his services?"</p> + +<p>They were all looking at me now, and it seemed as though we had passed +from courtly phrases, such as fall readily but with little import from a +man's lips, and had come to a graver matter. They were asking some +pledge of me, or their looks belied them. Why or to what end they +desired it, I could not tell; but Darrell, who stood behind the priest, +nodded his head to me with an anxious frown.</p> + +<p>"I will obey the King in all things," I began.</p> + +<p>"Well said, well said," murmured Arlington.</p> + +<p>"Saving," I proceeded, thinking it my duty to make this addition, and +not conceiving that there could be harm in it, "the liberties of the +Kingdom and the safety of the Reformed Religion."</p> + +<p>I felt Arlington's hand drawn half-away, but in an instant it was back, +and he smiled no less pleasantly than before. But the Duke, less able or +less careful to conceal his mood, frowned heavily, while Hudleston cried +impatiently,</p> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_109" id="Page_109">[Pg 109]</a></span></p> +<p>"Reservations! Kings are not served with reservations, sir."</p> + +<p>He made me angry. Had the Duke said what he did, I would have taken it +with a dutiful bow and a silent tongue. But who was this priest to rate +me in such a style? My temper banished my prudence, and, bending my head +towards him, I answered:</p> + +<p>"Yet the Crown itself is worn with these reservations, sir, and the King +himself allows them."</p> + +<p>For a moment nobody spoke. Then Arlington said,</p> + +<p>"I fear, sir, Mr Dale is as yet less a courtier than an honest +gentleman."</p> + +<p>The Duke rose to his feet.</p> + +<p>"I have found no fault with Mr Dale," said he haughtily and coldly, and, +taking no more heed of me, he walked away, while Hudleston, having +bestowed on me an angry glance, followed him.</p> + +<p>"Mr Dale, Mr Dale!" whispered Arlington, and with no more than that, +although still with a smile, he slipped his arm out of mine and left me, +beckoning Darrell to go with him. Darrell obeyed with a shrug of +despair. I was alone—and, as it seemed, ruined. Alas, why must I blurt +out my old lessons as though I had been standing again at my father's +knee and not in the presence of the Duke of York? Yes, my race was run +before it was begun. The Court was not the place for me. In great +bitterness I flung myself down on the cushions and sat<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_110" id="Page_110">[Pg 110]</a></span> there, out of +heart and very dismal. A moment passed; then the curtain behind me was +drawn aside, and an amused laugh sounded in my ear as I turned. A young +man leapt over the couch and threw himself down beside me, laughing +heartily and crying,</p> + +<p>"Well done, well done! I'd have given a thousand crowns to see their +faces!"</p> + +<p>I sprang to my feet in amazement and confusion, bowing low, for the +young man by me was the Duke of Monmouth.</p> + +<p>"Sit, man," said he, pulling me down again. "I was behind the curtain, +and heard it all. Thank God, I held my laughter in till they were gone. +The liberties of the Kingdom and the safety of the Reformed Religion! +Here's a story for the King!" He lay back, seeming to enjoy the jest +most hugely.</p> + +<p>"For the love of heaven, sir," I cried, "don't tell the King! I'm +already ruined."</p> + +<p>"Why, so you are, with my good uncle," said he. "You're new to Court, Mr +Dale?"</p> + +<p>"Most sadly new," I answered in a rueful tone, which set him laughing +again.</p> + +<p>"You hadn't heard the scandalous stories that accuse the Duke of loving +the Reformed Religion no better than the liberties of the Kingdom?"</p> + +<p>"Indeed, no, sir."</p> + +<p>"And my Lord Arlington? I know him! He held your arm, to the last, and +he smiled to the last?"</p> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_111" id="Page_111">[Pg 111]</a></span></p> +<p>"Indeed, sir, my lord was most gentle to me."</p> + +<p>"Aye, I know his way. Mr Dale, for this entertainment let me call you +friend. Come then, we'll go to the King with it." And, rising, he seized +me by the arm and began to drag me off.</p> + +<p>"Indeed your Grace must pardon me——" I began.</p> + +<p>"But indeed I will not," he persisted. Then he suddenly grew grave as he +said, "I am for the liberties of the Kingdom and the safety of the +Reformed Religion. Aren't we friends, then?"</p> + +<p>"Your Grace does me infinite honour."</p> + +<p>"And am I no good friend? Is there no value in the friendship of the +King's son—the King's eldest son?" He drew himself up with a grace and +a dignity which became him wonderfully. Often in these later days I see +him as he was then, and think of him with tenderness. Say what you will, +he made many love him even to death, who would not have lifted a finger +for his father or the Duke of York.</p> + +<p>Yet in an instant—such slaves are we of our moods—I was more than half +in a rage with him. For as we went we encountered Mistress Barbara on +Lord Carford's arm. The quarrel between them seemed past and they were +talking merrily together. On the sight of her the Duke left me and ran +forward. By an adroit movement he thrust Carford aside and began to ply +the lady with most extravagant and high-flown compliments, displaying +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_112" id="Page_112">[Pg 112]</a></span>an excess of devotion which witnessed more admiration than respect. She +had treated me as a boy, but she did not tell him that he was a boy, +although he was younger than I; she listened with heightened colour and +sparkling eyes. I glanced at Carford and found, to my surprise, no signs +of annoyance at his unceremonious deposition. He was watching the pair +with a shrewd smile and seemed to mark with pleasure the girl's pride +and the young Duke's evident passion. Yet I, who heard something of what +passed, had much ado not to step in and bid her pay no heed to homage +that was empty if not dishonouring.</p> + +<p>Suddenly the Duke turned round and called to me.</p> + +<p>"Mr Dale," he cried, "there needed but one thing to bind us closer, and +here it is! For you are, I learn, the friend of Mistress Quinton, and I +am the humblest of her slaves, who serve all her friends for her sake."</p> + +<p>"Why, what would your Grace do for my sake?" asked Barbara.</p> + +<p>"What wouldn't I?" he cried, as if transported. Then he added rather +low, "Though I fear you're too cruel to do anything for mine."</p> + +<p>"I am listening to the most ridiculous speeches in the world for your +Grace's sake," said Barbara with a pretty curtsey and a coquettish +smile.</p> + +<p>"Is love ridiculous?" he asked. "Is passion a thing to smile at? Cruel +Mistress Barbara!"</p> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_113" id="Page_113">[Pg 113]</a></span></p> +<p>"Won't your Grace set it in verse?" said she.</p> + +<p>"Your grace writes it in verse on my heart," said he.</p> + +<p>Then Barbara looked across at me, it might be accidentally, yet it did +not appear so, and she laughed merrily. It needed no skill to measure +the meaning of her laugh, and I did not blame her for it. She had waited +for years to avenge the kiss that I gave Cydaria in the Manor Park at +Hatchstead; but was it not well avenged when I stood humbly, in +deferential silence, at the back while his Grace the Duke sued for her +favour, and half the Court looked on? I will not set myself down a churl +where nature has not made me one; I said in my heart, and I tried to say +to her with my eyes, "Laugh, sweet mistress, laugh!" For I love a girl +who will laugh at you when the game runs in her favour.</p> + +<p>The Duke fell to his protestations again, and Carford still listened +with an acquiescence that seemed strange in a suitor for the lady's +hand. But now Barbara's modesty took alarm; the signal of confusion flew +in her cheeks, and she looked round, distressed to see how many watched +them. Monmouth cared not a jot. I made bold to slip across to Carford, +and said to him in a low tone,</p> + +<p>"My lord, his Grace makes Mistress Barbara too much marked. Can't you +contrive to interrupt him?"</p> + +<p>He stared at me with a smile of wonder. But<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_114" id="Page_114">[Pg 114]</a></span> something in my look +banished his smile and set a frown in its place.</p> + +<p>"Must I have more lessons in manners from you, sir?" he asked. "And do +you include a discourse on the interrupting of princes?"</p> + +<p>"Princes?" said I.</p> + +<p>"The Duke of Monmouth is——"</p> + +<p>"The King's son, my lord," I interposed, and, carrying my hat in my +hand, I walked up to Barbara and the Duke. She looked at me as I came, +but not now mockingly; there was rather an appeal in her eyes.</p> + +<p>"Your Grace will not let me lose my audience with the King?" said I.</p> + +<p>He started, looked at me, frowned, looked at Barbara, frowned deeper +still. I remained quiet, in an attitude of great deference. Puzzled to +know whether I had spoken in sheer simplicity and ignorance, or with a +meaning which seemed too bold to believe in, he broke into a doubtful +laugh. In an instant Barbara drew away with a curtsey. He did not pursue +her, but caught my arm, and looked hard and straight in my face. I am +happily somewhat wooden of feature, and a man could not make me colour +now, although a woman could. He took nothing by his examination.</p> + +<p>"You interrupted me," he said.</p> + +<p>"Alas, your Grace knows how poor a courtier I am, and how ignorant——"</p> + +<p>"Ignorant!" he cried; "yes, you're mighty<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_115" id="Page_115">[Pg 115]</a></span> ignorant, no doubt; but I +begin to think you know a pretty face when you see it, Master Simon +Dale. Well, I'll not quarrel. Isn't she the most admirable creature +alive?"</p> + +<p>"I had supposed Lord Carford thought so, sir."</p> + +<p>"Oh! And yet Lord Carford did not hurry me off to find the King! But +you? What say you to the question?"</p> + +<p>"I'm so dazzled, sir, by all the beautiful ladies of His Majesty's Court +that I can hardly perceive individual charms."</p> + +<p>He laughed again, and pinched my arm, saying,</p> + +<p>"We all love what we have not. The Duke of York is in love with truth, +the King with chastity, Buckingham with modesty of demeanour, Rochester +with seemliness, Arlington with sincerity, and I, Simon—I do fairly +worship discretion!"</p> + +<p>"Indeed I fear I can boast of little, sir."</p> + +<p>"You shall boast of none, and thereby show the more, Simon. Come, +there's the King." And he darted on, in equal good humour, as it seemed, +with himself and me. Moreover, he lost no time on his errand; for when I +reached his side (since they who made way for him afforded me no such +civility) he had not only reached the King's chair, but was half-way +through his story of my answer to the Duke of York; all chance of +stopping him was gone.</p> + +<p>"Now I'm damned indeed," thought I; but I set my teeth, and listened +with unmoved face.</p> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_116" id="Page_116">[Pg 116]</a></span></p> +<p>At this moment the King was alone, save for ourselves and a little +long-eared dog which lay on his lap and was incessantly caressed with +his hand. He heard his son's story with a face as impassive as I strove +to render mine. At the end he looked up at me, asking,</p> + +<p>"What are these liberties which are so dear to you, sir?"</p> + +<p>My tongue had got me into trouble enough for one day, so I set its music +to a softer tune.</p> + +<p>"Those which I see preserved and honoured by your Majesty," said I, +bowing.</p> + +<p>Monmouth laughed, and clapped me on the back; but the King proceeded +gravely:</p> + +<p>"And this Reformed Religion that you set above my orders?"</p> + +<p>"The Faith, Sir, of which you are Defender."</p> + +<p>"Come, Mr Dale," said he, rather surly, "if you had spoken to my brother +as skilfully as you fence with me, he would not have been angry."</p> + +<p>I do not know what came over me. I said it in all honest simplicity, +meaning only to excuse myself for the disrespect I had shown to the +Duke; but I phrased the sentence most vilely, for I said:</p> + +<p>"When His Royal Highness questioned me, Sir, I had to speak the truth."</p> + +<p>Monmouth burst into a roar, and a moment later the King followed with a +more subdued but not less thorough merriment. When his mirth subsided he +said,</p> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_117" id="Page_117">[Pg 117]</a></span></p> +<p>"True, Mr Dale. I am a King, and no man is bound to speak truth to me. +Nor, by heaven—and there's a compensation—I to any man!"</p> + +<p>"Nor woman," said Monmouth, looking at the ceiling in apparent absence +of mind.</p> + +<p>"Nor even boy," added the King, with an amused glance at his son. "Well, +Mr Dale, can you serve me and this conscience of yours also?"</p> + +<p>"Indeed I cannot doubt it, Sir," said I.</p> + +<p>"A man's king should be his conscience," said the King.</p> + +<p>"And what should be conscience to the King, Sir?" asked Monmouth.</p> + +<p>"Why, James, a recognition of what evil things he may bring into the +world, if he doesn't mind his ways."</p> + +<p>Monmouth saw the hit, and took it with pretty grace, bending and kissing +the King's hand.</p> + +<p>"It is difficult, Mr Dale, to serve two masters," said the King, turning +again to me.</p> + +<p>"Your Majesty is my only master," I began; but the King interrupted me, +going on with some amusement:</p> + +<p>"Yet I should like to have seen my brother."</p> + +<p>"Let him serve me, Sir," cried Monmouth. "For I am firm in my love of +these liberties, aye, and of the Reformed Religion."</p> + +<p>"I know, James, I know," nodded the King. "It is grievous and strange, +however, that you should speak as though my brother were not."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_118" id="Page_118">[Pg 118]</a></span> He +smiled very maliciously at the young Duke, who flushed red. The King +suddenly laughed, and fell to fondling the little dog again.</p> + +<p>"Then, Sir," said Monmouth, "Mr Dale may come with me to Dover?"</p> + +<p>My heart leapt, for all the talk now was of Dover, of the gaiety that +would be there, and the corresponding dulness in London, when the King +and the Duke were gone to meet Madame d'Orléans. I longed to go, and the +little hope I had cherished that Darrell's good offices with the +Secretary of State would serve me to that end had vanished. Now I was +full of joy, although I watched the King's face anxiously.</p> + +<p>For some reason the suggestion seemed to occasion him amusement; yet, +although for the most part he laughed openly without respect of matter +or person, he now bent over his little dog, as though he sought to hide +the smile, and when he looked up again it hung about his lips like the +mere ghost of mirth.</p> + +<p>"Why not?" said he. "To Dover, by all means. Mr Dale can serve you, and +me, and his principles, as well at Dover as in London."</p> + +<p>I bent on one knee and kissed his hand for the favour. When I sought to +do the like to Monmouth he was very ready, and received my homage most +regally. As I rose, the King was smiling at the pair of us in a +whimsical melancholy way.</p> + +<p>"Be off with you, boys," said he, as though we<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_119" id="Page_119">[Pg 119]</a></span> were a pair of lads from +the grammar school. "Ye are both fools; and James there is but +indifferently honest. But every hour's a chance, and every wench an +angel to you. Do what you will, and God forgive your sins." And he lay +back in his great chair with a good-humoured, lazy, weary smile, as he +idly patted the little dog. In spite of all that all men knew of him, I +felt my heart warm to him, and I knelt on my knee again, saying:</p> + +<p>"God save your Majesty."</p> + +<p>"God is omnipotent," said the King gravely. "I thank you, Mr Dale."</p> + +<p>Thus dismissed, we walked off together, and I was awaiting the Duke's +pleasure to relieve him also of my company, when he turned to me with a +smile, his white teeth gleaming:</p> + +<p>"The Queen sends a maid of honour to wait on Madame," said he.</p> + +<p>"Indeed, sir; it is very fitting."</p> + +<p>"And the Duchess sends one also. If you could choose from among the +Duchess's—for I swear no man in his senses would choose any of Her +Majesty's—whom would you choose, Mr. Dale?"</p> + +<p>"It is not for me to say, your Grace," I answered.</p> + +<p>"Well," said he, regarding me drolly, "I would choose Mistress Barbara +Quinton." And with a last laugh he ran off in hot pursuit of a lady who +passed at that moment and cast a very kindly glance at him.</p> + +<p>Left alone, but in a good humour that the Duke's<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_120" id="Page_120">[Pg 120]</a></span> last jest could not +embitter, I stood watching the scene. The play had begun now on a stage +at the end of the hall, but nobody seemed to heed it. They walked to and +fro, talking always, ogling, quarrelling, love-making, and intriguing. I +caught sight here of great ladies, there of beauties whose faces were +their fortune—or their ruin, which you will. Buckingham went by, fine +as a galley in full sail. The Duke of York passed with Mr Hudleston; my +salute went unacknowledged. Clifford came soon after; he bowed slightly +when I bowed to him, but his heartiness was gone. A moment later Darrell +was by my side; his ill-humour was over, but he lifted his hands in +comical despair.</p> + +<p>"Simon, Simon, you're hard to help," said he. "Alas, I must go to Dover +without you, my friend! Couldn't you restrain your tongue?"</p> + +<p>"My tongue has done me no great harm," said I, "and you needn't go to +Dover alone."</p> + +<p>"What?" he cried, amazed.</p> + +<p>"Unless the Duke of Monmouth and my Lord Arlington travel apart."</p> + +<p>"The Duke of Monmouth? What have you to do with him?"</p> + +<p>"I am to enter his service," I answered proudly; "and, moreover, I'm to +go with him to Dover to meet Madame d'Orléans."</p> + +<p>"Why, why? How comes this? How were you brought to his notice?"</p> + +<p>I looked at him, wondering at his eagerness.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_121" id="Page_121">[Pg 121]</a></span> Then I took him by the +arm, and I said laughingly:</p> + +<p>"Come, I am teachable, and I have learnt my lesson."</p> + +<p>"What lesson do you mean?"</p> + +<p>"To restrain my tongue," said I. "Let those who are curious as to the +Duke of Monmouth's reasons for his favour to me, ask the Duke."</p> + +<p>He laughed, but I caught vexation in his laugh.</p> + +<p>"True, you're teachable, Simon," said he.</p> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_122" id="Page_122">[Pg 122]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VIII" id="CHAPTER_VIII"></a>CHAPTER VIII</h2> + +<h3>MADNESS, MAGIC, AND MOONSHINE</h3> + + +<p>When the curtain had fallen on the little-heeded play and the gay crowd +began to disperse, I, perceiving that no more was to be seen or learnt, +went home to my lodging alone. After our conversation Darrell had left +me abruptly, and I saw him no more. But my own thoughts gave me +occupation enough; for even to a dull mind, and one unversed in Court +intrigues, it seemed plain that more hung on this expedition to Dover +than the meeting of the King's sister with her brother. So far all men +were of the same opinion; beyond, their variance began. I had not +thought to trouble my head about it, but, not having learnt yet that a +small man lives most comfortably with the great by opening his eyes and +ears only when bidden and keeping them tight locked for the rest, I was +inspired with eagerness to know the full meaning of the scene in which I +was now to play a part, however humble. Of one thing at least I was +glad—here I touched on a matter more suitable to my<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_123" id="Page_123">[Pg 123]</a></span> condition—and +this was that since Barbara Quinton was to go to Dover, I was to go +also. But, alas, neither here did perplexity lag far behind! It is easy +to know that you are glad to be with a lady; your very blood tells you; +but to say why is often difficult. I told myself that my sole cause for +pleasure lay in the services I might be able to render to my old +friend's daughter; she would want me to run her errands and do her +bidding; an attentive cavalier, however lowly, seldom comes amiss; these +pleas I muttered to myself, but swelling pride refused them, and for +once reason came as pride's ally, urging that in such company as would +assemble at Dover a girl might well need protection, no less than +compliments. It was true; my new master's bearing to her shewed how +true. And Carford was not, it seemed, a jealous lover. I was no +lover—my life was vowed to another most unhappy love—but I was a +gentleman, and (sweet thought!) the hour might come when the face which +had looked so mockingly at me to-night should turn again in appeal to +the wit and arm of Simon Dale. I grew taller as I thought of that, and, +coming just then to my own door, rapped with my cane as loudly and +defiantly as though I had been the Duke of Monmouth himself, and not a +gentleman in his suite.</p> + +<p>Loud as my rapping was, it brought no immediate answer. Again I knocked; +then feet came shuffling along the passage. I had aroused my<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_124" id="Page_124">[Pg 124]</a></span> sleepy +wretch; doubtless he would come groaning (for Jonah might not curse save +in the way of religion), and rubbing his eyes, to let me in. The door +opened and Jonah appeared; his eyes were not dull with sleep but seemed +to blaze with some strong excitement; he had not been to his bed, for +his dress was not disordered, and a light burnt bright in my parlour. To +crown all, from the same parlour came the sound of a psalm most shrilly +and villainously chanted through the nose in a voice familiar to my +ears. I, unlike my servant, had not bound myself against an oath where +the case called, and with a round one that sent Jonah's eyes in agony up +to the ceiling I pushed by him and ran into the parlour. A sonorous +"Amen" came pat with my entrance; Phineas Tate stood before me, lean and +pale, but calm and placid.</p> + +<p>"What in the devil's name brings you here?" I cried.</p> + +<p>"The service of God," he answered solemnly.</p> + +<p>"What, does it forbid sleep at nights?"</p> + +<p>"Have you been sleeping, young man?" he asked, pertinently enough, as I +must allow.</p> + +<p>"I have been paying my respects to His Majesty," said I.</p> + +<p>"God forgive him and you," was the retort.</p> + +<p>"Perhaps, sir, perhaps not," I replied, for I was growing angry. "But I +have asked your intercession no more than has the King. If Jonah brought +you here, it was without my leave; I beg you to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_125" id="Page_125">[Pg 125]</a></span> take your +departure.—Jonah, hold the door there for Mr Tate."</p> + +<p>The man raised his hand impressively.</p> + +<p>"Hear my message first," he said. "I am sent unto you, that you may turn +from sin. For the Lord has appointed you to be his instrument. Even now +the plot is laid, even now men conspire to bring this kingdom again into +the bondage of Rome. Have you no ears, have you no eyes, are you blind +and deaf? Turn to me, and I will make you see and hear. For it is given +to me to show you the way."</p> + +<p>I was utterly weary of the fellow, and, in despair of getting quit of +him, flung myself into a chair. But his next words caught my attention.</p> + +<p>"The man who lives here with you—what of him? Is he not an enemy of +God?"</p> + +<p>"Mr Darrell is of the Romish faith," said I, smiling in spite of myself, +for a kinder soul than Darrell I had never met.</p> + +<p>Phineas came close to me, leaning over me with an admonishing forefinger +and a mysterious air.</p> + +<p>"What did he want with you?" he asked. "Yet cleave to him. Be where he +is, go where he goes."</p> + +<p>"If it comforts you, I am going where he goes," said I, yawning. "For we +are both going to Dover when the King goes."</p> + +<p>"It is God's finger and God's will!" cried Phineas, catching me by the +shoulder.</p> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_126" id="Page_126">[Pg 126]</a></span></p> +<p>"Enough!" I shouted, leaping up. "Keep your hands off me, man, if you +can't keep your tongue. What is it to you that we go to Dover?"</p> + +<p>"Aye, what?" came suddenly in Darrell's voice. He stood in the doorway +with a fierce and angry frown on his face. A moment later he was across +the room and laid his hand on Phineas. "Do you want another cropping of +your ears?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"Do your will on me," cried the fanatic. And sweeping away his lanky +hair he showed his ears; to my horror they had been cropped level across +their tops by the shears. "Do your will," he shrieked, "I am ready. But +your hour comes also, yea, your cup shall soon be full."</p> + +<p>Darrell spoke to him in low stern tones.</p> + +<p>"It may be more than ears, if you will not bridle your tongue. It's not +for you to question why the King comes or goes."</p> + +<p>I saw Jonah's face at the door, pale with fright as he looked at the two +men. The interest of the scene grew on me; the talk of Dover seemed to +pursue me strangely.</p> + +<p>"But this young man," pursued Phineas, utterly unmoved by Darrell's +threat, "is not of you; he shall be snatched from the burning, and by +his hand the Lord will work a great deliverance."</p> + +<p>Darrell turned to me and said stiffly:</p> + +<p>"This room is yours, sir, not mine. Do you suffer the presence of this +mischievous knave?"</p> + +<p>"I suffer what I can't help," I answered. "Mr<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_127" id="Page_127">[Pg 127]</a></span> Tate doesn't ask my +pleasure in his coming and going any more than the King asks Mr Tate's +in his."</p> + +<p>"It would do you no good, sir, to have it known that he was here," +Darrell reminded me with a significant nod of his head.</p> + +<p>Darrell had been a good friend to me and had won my regard, but, from an +infirmity of temper that I have touched on before, his present tone set +me against him. I take reproof badly, and age has hardly tamed me to it.</p> + +<p>"No good with whom?" I asked, smiling. "The Duke of York? My Lord +Arlington? Or do you mean the Duke of Monmouth? It is he whom I have to +please now."</p> + +<p>"None of them love Ranters," answered Darrell, keeping his face stiff +and inscrutable.</p> + +<p>"But one of them may prefer a Ranter to a Papist," laughed I.</p> + +<p>The thrust told, Darrell grew red. To myself I seemed to have hit +suddenly on the key of a mystery. Was I then a pawn in the great game of +the Churches, and Darrell another, and (to speak it with all due +respect), these grand dukes little better? Had Phineas Tate also his +place on the board where souls made the stakes? In such a game none is +too low for value, none too high for use. Surely my finger was on the +spring! At least I had confounded Darrell; his enemy, taking my help +readily enough, glared on him in most unchristian exultation,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_128" id="Page_128">[Pg 128]</a></span> and then, +turning to me, cried in a species of fierce ecstasy,</p> + +<p>"Think not that because you are unworthy you shall not serve God. The +work sanctifies the instrument, yea, it makes clean that which is foul. +Verily, at His hour, God may work through a woman of sin." And he fixed +his eyes intently on me.</p> + +<p>I read a special meaning in his words; my thoughts flew readily to the +Cock and Pie in Drury Lane.</p> + +<p>"Yea, through a woman of sin," he repeated slowly and solemnly; then he +faced round, swift as the wind, on Darrell, and, minding my friend's +sullen scowl not a whit, cried to him, "Repent, repent, vengeance is +near!" and so at last was out of the room before either of us could +hinder him, had we wished, or could question him further. I heard the +house-door shut behind him, and I rose, looking at Darrell with an easy +smile.</p> + +<p>"Madness and moonshine, good friend," said I. "Don't let it disturb you. +If Jonah admits the fellow again he shall answer for it."</p> + +<p>"Indeed, Mr Dale, when I prayed you to share my lodging, I did not +foresee the nature of your company."</p> + +<p>"Fate more than choice makes a man's company," said I. "Now it's you, +now Phineas, now my lord the Secretary, and now his Grace the Duke. +Indeed, seeing how destiny—or, if you will,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_129" id="Page_129">[Pg 129]</a></span> chance—rules, a man may +well be thought a fool who makes a plan or chooses a companion. For my +own part, I am fate's child and fate shall guide me."</p> + +<p>He was still stiff and cold with me, but my friendly air and my evident +determination to have no quarrel won him to civility if to no warmer +demonstration of regard.</p> + +<p>"Fate's child?" he asked with a little scorn, but seating himself and +smoothing his brow. "You're fate's child? Isn't that an arrogant speech, +Simon?"</p> + +<p>"If it weren't true, most arrogant," I answered. "Come, I'll tell you; +it's too soon for bed and too late to go abroad. Jonah, bring us some +wine, and if it be good, you shall be forgiven for admitting Master +Tate."</p> + +<p>Jonah went off and presently returned with a bottle, which we drank, +while I, with the candour I had promised, told my friend of Betty +Nasroth and her prophecy. He heard me with an attention which belied the +contempt he asserted; I have noticed that men pay heed to these things +however much they laugh at them. At the end, growing excited not only +with the wine but with the fumes of life which had been mounting into my +young brain all the day, I leapt up, crying aloud:</p> + +<p>"And isn't it true? Shan't I know what he hides? Shan't I drink of his +cup? For isn't it true? Don't I already, to my infinite misery, love +where he loves?" For the picture of Nell had come<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_130" id="Page_130">[Pg 130]</a></span> suddenly across me in +renewed strength and sweetness; when I had spoken I dropped again into +my chair and laid my head down on my arms.</p> + +<p>Silence followed; Darrell had no words of consolation for my woes and +left my love-lorn cry unheeded; presently then (for neglected sorrows do +not thrive) I looked furtively at him between the fingers of my hand. He +sat moody, thoughtful, and frowning. I raised my head and met his eyes. +He leant across the table, saying in a sneering tone, "A fine witch, on +my life! You should know what he hides?"</p> + +<p>"Aye."</p> + +<p>"And drink of his cup?"</p> + +<p>"Aye, so she said."</p> + +<p>He sat sunk in troubled thought, but I, being all this night torn to and +fro by changing and warring moods, sprang up again and cried in +boisterous scorn, "What, you believe these fables? Does God reveal +hidden things to old crones? I thought you at Court were not the fools +of such fancies! Aren't they fitter for rustic churls, Mr Darrell? God +save us, do we live in the days of King James?"</p> + +<p>He answered me shortly and sternly, as though I had spoken of things not +to be named lightly.</p> + +<p>"It is devil's work, all of it."</p> + +<p>"Then the devil is busier than he seems, even after a night at Court," I +said. "But be it whose work it will, I'll do it. I'll find what he +hides. I'll drink of his cup. Come, you're glum! Drink,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_131" id="Page_131">[Pg 131]</a></span> friend Darrell! +Darrell, what's in his cup, what does he hide? Darrell, what does the +King hide?"</p> + +<p>I had caught him by the shoulder and was staring in his face. I was all +aglow, and my eyes, no doubt, shone bright with excitement and the +exhilaration of the wine. The look of me, or the hour of the night, or +the working of his own superstition, got hold of him, for he sprang up, +crying madly:</p> + +<p>"My God, do you know?" and glared into my face as though I had been the +very devil of whom I spoke.</p> + +<p>We stood thus for a full minute. But I grew cool before my companion, +wonder working the change in me sooner than confusion could in him. For +my random ravings had most marvellously struck on something more than my +sober speculations could discern. The man before me was mad—or he had a +secret. And friend Darrell was no madman.</p> + +<p>"Do I know?" I asked. "Do I know what? What could I, Simon Dale, know? +What in Heaven's name is there to know?" And I smiled cunningly, as +though I sought to hide knowledge by a parade of ignorance.</p> + +<p>"Nothing, nothing," he muttered uneasily. "The wine's got into my head."</p> + +<p>"Yet you've drunk but two glasses; I had the rest," said I.</p> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_132" id="Page_132">[Pg 132]</a></span></p> +<p>"That damned Ranter has upset me," he growled. "That, and the talk of +your cursed witch."</p> + +<p>"Can Ranters and witches make secrets where there are none?" said I with +a laugh.</p> + +<p>"They can make fools think there are secrets where there are none," said +he rudely.</p> + +<p>"And other fools ask if they're known," I retorted, but with a laugh; +and I added, "I'm not for a quarrel, secret or no secret, so if that's +your purpose in sitting the night through, to bed with you, my friend."</p> + +<p>Whether from prudence, or whether my good humour rebuked his temper, he +grew more gentle; he looked at me kindly enough and sighed, as he said:</p> + +<p>"I was to be your guide in London, Simon; but you take your own path."</p> + +<p>"The path you shewed me was closed in my face," said I, "and I took the +first that was opened to me."</p> + +<p>"By the Duke of Monmouth?"</p> + +<p>"Yes—or by another, if it had chanced to be another."</p> + +<p>"But why take any, Simon?" he urged persuasively. "Why not live in peace +and leave these great folk alone?"</p> + +<p>"With all my heart," I cried. "Is it a bargain? Whither shall we fly +from the turmoil?"</p> + +<p>"We!" he exclaimed with a start.</p> + +<p>"Aren't you sick of the same disease? Isn't the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_133" id="Page_133">[Pg 133]</a></span> same medicine best for +you? Come, shall we both go to-morrow to Hatchstead—a pretty village, +Mr Darrell—and let the great folk go alone to Dover?"</p> + +<p>"You know I cannot. I serve my Lord Arlington."</p> + +<p>"And I the Duke of Monmouth."</p> + +<p>"But my Lord is the King's servant."</p> + +<p>"And his Grace the King's son."</p> + +<p>"Oh, if you're obstinate——" he began, frowning.</p> + +<p>"As fate, as prophecy, as witch, as Ranter, as devil, or as yourself!" I +said, laughing and throwing myself into a chair as he rose and moved +towards the door.</p> + +<p>"No good will come of it to you," he said, passing me on his way.</p> + +<p>"What loyal servant looks to make a profit of his service?" I asked, +smiling.</p> + +<p>"I wish you could be warned."</p> + +<p>"I'm warned, but not turned, Darrell. Come, we part friends?"</p> + +<p>"Why, yes, we are friends," he answered, but with a touch of hesitation.</p> + +<p>"Saving our duty to the King?"</p> + +<p>"If need should come for that reservation, yes," said he gravely.</p> + +<p>"And saving," said I, "the liberties of the Kingdom and the safety of +the Reformed Religion—if need should come for these reservations, Mr +Darrell," and I laughed to see the frown gather again on his brow. But +he made no reply, being unable to trust<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_134" id="Page_134">[Pg 134]</a></span> his self-control or answer my +light banter in its own kind. He left me with no more than a shake of +his head and a wave of his hand; and although we parted thus in amity +and with no feelings save of kindness for one another, I knew that +henceforth there must be a difference in our relations; the days of +confidence were gone.</p> + +<p>The recognition of my loss weighed little with me. The diffidence born +of inexperience and of strangeness to London and the Court was wearing +away; the desire for another's arm to lean on and another's eyes to see +with gave way before a young man's pride in his own arm's strength and +the keenness of his own vision. There was sport afoot; aye, for me in +those days all things were sport, even the high disputes of Churches or +of Kingdoms. We look at the world through our own glasses; little as it +recks of us, it is to us material and opportunity; there in the dead of +night I wove a dream wherein the part of hero was played by Simon Dale, +with Kings and Dukes to bow him on and off the stage and Christendom to +make an audience. These dream-doings are brave things: I pity the man +who performs none of them; for in them you may achieve without labour, +enjoy without expense, triumph without cruelty, aye, and sin mightily +and grandly with never a reckoning for it. Yet do not be a mean villain +even in your dreaming, for that sticks to you when you awake.</p> + +<p>I had supposed myself alone to be out of bed and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_135" id="Page_135">[Pg 135]</a></span> Jonah Wall to have +slunk off in fear of my anger. But now my meditations were interrupted +by his entrance. He crept up to me in an uneasy fashion, but seemed to +take courage when I did not break into abuse, but asked him mildly why +he had not sought rest and what he wanted with me. His first answer was +to implore me to protect him from Mr Darrell's wrath; through Phineas +Tate, he told me timidly, he had found grace, and he could deny him +nothing; yet, if I bade him, he would not admit him again.</p> + +<p>"Let him come," said I carelessly. "Besides, we shall not be long here. +For you and I are going on a journey, Jonah."</p> + +<p>"A journey, sir?"</p> + +<p>"Ay, I go with the Duke of Monmouth, and you go with me, to Dover when +the King goes."</p> + +<p>Now, either Dover was on everybody's brain, or was very sadly on my +brain, for I swear even this fellow's eye seemed to brighten as I named +the place.</p> + +<p>"To Dover, sir?"</p> + +<p>"No less. You shall see all the gaiety there is to be seen, Jonah."</p> + +<p>The flush of interest had died away; he was dolefully tranquil and +submissive again.</p> + +<p>"Well, what do you want with me?" I asked, for I did not wish him to +suspect that I detected any change in his manner.</p> + +<p>"A lady came here to-day, sir, in a very fine<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_136" id="Page_136">[Pg 136]</a></span> coach with Flemish +horses, and asked for you. Hearing you were from home, she called to me +and bade me take a message for you. I prayed her to write it, but she +laughed, and said she spoke more easily than she wrote; and she bade me +say that she wished to see you."</p> + +<p>"What sort of lady was she, Jonah?"</p> + +<p>"She sat all the while in the coach, sir, but she seemed not tall; she +was very merry, sir." Jonah sighed deeply; with him merriment stood high +among the vices of our nature.</p> + +<p>"She didn't say for what purpose she wanted me?" I asked as carelessly +as I could.</p> + +<p>"No, sir. She said you would know the purpose, and that she would look +for you at noon to-morrow."</p> + +<p>"But where, Jonah?"</p> + +<p>"At a house called Burford House, sir, in Chelsea."</p> + +<p>"She gave you no name?"</p> + +<p>"I asked her name, and she gave me one."</p> + +<p>"What was it?"</p> + +<p>"It was a strange heathenish name, and she laughed as she gave it; +indeed she laughed all the time."</p> + +<p>"There's no sin in laughter," said I dryly. "You may leave me, I need no +help in undressing."</p> + +<p>"But the name——"</p> + +<p>"By Heaven, man, I know the name! Be off with you!"</p> + +<p>He shuffled off, his whole manner expressing<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_137" id="Page_137">[Pg 137]</a></span> reprobation, whether most +of my oath, or of the heathenish name, or of the lady who gave it, I +know not.</p> + +<p>Well, if he were so horror-stricken at these things, what would he say +at learning with whom he had talked? Perhaps he would have preached to +her, as had Phineas Tate, his master in religion. For, beyond doubt, +that heathenish name was Cydaria, and that fine coach with Flemish +horses—I left the question of that coach unanswered.</p> + +<p>The moment the door was shut behind my servant I sprang to my feet, +crying in a low but very vehement voice, "Never!" I would not go. Had +she not wounded me enough? Must I tear away the bandage from the gash? +She had tortured me, and asked me now, with a laugh, to be so good as +stretch myself on the rack again. I would not go. That laugh was cruel +insolence. I knew that laugh. Ah, why so I did—I knew it well—how it +rose and rippled and fell, losing itself in echoes scarcely audible, but +rich with enticing mirth. Surely she was cunningly fashioned for the +undoing of men; yes, and of herself, poor soul. What were her coaches, +and the Flemish horses, and the house called Burford House in Chelsea? A +wave of memory swept over me, and I saw her simple—well then, more +simple!—though always merry, in the sweet-smelling fields at home, +playing with my boy's heart as with a toy that she knew little of, but +yet by instinct handled deftly. It pleased her mightily, that toy, and +she<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_138" id="Page_138">[Pg 138]</a></span> seemed to wonder when she found that it felt. She did not feel; joy +was hers, nothing deeper. Yet could she not, might she not, would she +not? I knew what she was; who knew what she might be? The picture of her +rose again before my eyes, inviting a desperate venture, spurring me on +to an enterprise in which the effort seemed absurdity, and success would +have been in the eyes of the world calamity. Yet an exaltation of spirit +was on me, and I wove another dream that drove the first away; now I did +not go to Dover to play my part in great affairs and jostle for higher +place in a world where in God's eyes all places are equal and all low, +but away back to the country I had loved, and not alone. She should be +with me, love should dress penitence in glowing robes, and purity be +decked more gloriously than all the pomps of sin. Could it be? If it +could, it seemed a prize for which all else might be willingly +forgone—an achievement rare and great, though the page of no history +recorded it.</p> + +<p>Phineas Tate had preached to her, and gone away, empty and scorned. I +would preach too, in different tones and with a different gospel. Yet my +words should have a sweetness his had not, my gospel a power that should +draw where his repelled. For my love, shaken not yet shattered, wounded +not dead, springing again to full life and force, should breathe its +vital energy into her soul and impart of its endless abundance till her +heart was full. Entranced by this golden vision, I rose and looked from +the window<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_139" id="Page_139">[Pg 139]</a></span> at the dawning day, praying that mine might be the task, the +achievement, the reward.</p> + +<p>Bright dawned that day as I, with brighter brightness in my heart, +climbed the stairs that led to my bedroom. But as I reached the door of +it, I paused. There came a sound from the little closet beyond, where +Jonah stretched his weary legs, and, as I hoped, had forgotten in +harmless sleep the soul that he himself tormented worse than would the +hell he feared. No, he did not rest. From his closet came low, fervent, +earnest prayers. Listening a minute, half in scorn, half in pity, and in +no unkindness, I heard him.</p> + +<p>"Praise be to God," he said, "Who maketh the crooked places straight, +and openeth a path through the wilderness, and setteth in the hand of +His servant a sword wherewith to smite the ungodly even in high places."</p> + +<p>What crooked places were made straight, what path opened, what sword set +in Jonah's hand? Of the ungodly in high places there was no lack in the +days of King Charles. But was Jonah Wall to smite them? I opened my door +with a laugh. We were all mad that night, and my madness lasted till the +morning. Yes, till the morning grew full my second dream was with me.</p> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_140" id="Page_140">[Pg 140]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_IX" id="CHAPTER_IX"></a>CHAPTER IX</h2> + +<h3>OF GEMS AND PEBBLES</h3> + + +<p>How I sought her, how I found her, that fine house of hers with the lawn +round it and the river by it, the stare of her lackeys, the pomp of her +living, the great lord who was bowed out as I went in, the maid who +bridled and glanced and laughed—they are all there in my memory, but +blurred, confused, beyond clear recall. Yet all that she was, looked, +said, aye, or left the clearer for being unsaid, is graven on my memory +in lines that no years obliterate and no change of mind makes hard to +read. She wore the great diamond necklace whose purchase was a fresh +text with the serious, and a new jest for the wits; on her neck it +gleamed and flashed as brilliantly and variously as the dazzling turns +in her talk and the unending chase of fleeting moods across her face. +Yet I started from my lodging, sworn to win her, and came home sworn to +have done with her. Let me tell it; I told it to myself a thousand times +in the days that followed. But even now, and for all the times that the +scene has played itself again before my unwilling eyes, I can scarcely +tell whence and how<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_141" id="Page_141">[Pg 141]</a></span> at the last, the change came. I think that the pomp +itself, the lord and the lackeys, the fine house, and all her state +struck as it were cold at my heart, dooming to failure the mad appeal +which they could not smother. But there was more; for all these might +have been, and yet not reached or infected her soul. But when I spoke to +her in words that had for me a sweetness so potent as to win me from all +hesitation and make as nothing the whole world beside, she did not +understand. I saw that she tried to understand; when she failed, I had +failed also. The flower was dead; what use then to cherish or to water +it? I had not thought it was dead, but had prayed that, faded and choked +though it were, yet it might find life in the sunshine of my love and +the water of her tears. But she did not weep, unless in a passing +petulance because I asked what she could not give; and the clouds swept +dark over my love's bright face.</p> + +<p>And now, alas, I am so wise that I cannot weep! I must rather smile to +have asked, than lament that my asking was in vain. I must wonder at her +patience in refusing kindly, and be no more amazed that she refused at +last. Yet this sad wisdom that sits well on age I do not love in youth. +I was a fool; but if to hold that good shall win and a true love prevail +be folly, let my sons be fools after me until their sons in turn catch +up from them the torch of that folly which illuminates the world.</p> + +<p>You would have said that she had not looked to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_142" id="Page_142">[Pg 142]</a></span> see me, for she started +as though in surprise when I stood before her, saying, "You sent for +me."</p> + +<p>"I sent for you?" she cried, still as if puzzled; then, "Ah, I remember. +A whim seized me as I passed your lodging. Yet you deserved no such +favour, for you treated me very rudely—why, yes, with great +unkindness—last time we met. But I wouldn't have you think me +resentful. Old friends must forgive one another, mustn't they? Besides, +you meant no hurt, you were vexed, perhaps you were even surprised. Were +you surprised? No, you weren't surprised. But were you grieved, Simon?"</p> + +<p>I had been gazing dully at her, now I spoke heavily and dully.</p> + +<p>"You wear gems there on your neck," said I, pointing at the necklace.</p> + +<p>"Isn't the neck worthy?" she murmured quickly yet softly, pulling her +dress away to let me see the better, and raising her eyes to mine.</p> + +<p>"Yes, very worthy. But wouldn't you be grieved to find them pebbles?"</p> + +<p>"By my faith, yes!" she laughed, "for I paid the price of gems for +them."</p> + +<p>"I also paid the price of a gem," said I, "and thought I had it."</p> + +<p>"And it proved a pebble?" said she, leaning over me; for I had seated +myself in a chair, being in no mood for ceremony.</p> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_143" id="Page_143">[Pg 143]</a></span></p> +<p>"Yes, a pebble; a very pebble, a common pebble."</p> + +<p>"A common pebble!" she echoed. "Oh, Simon, cruel Simon! But a pretty +bright pebble? It looked like a gem, Simon?"</p> + +<p>"God forgive you, yes. In Heaven's name—then—long ago, when you came +to Hatchstead—what then? Weren't you then——"</p> + +<p>"No gem," said she. "Even then a pebble." Her voice sank a little, as +though for a single moment some unfamiliar shame came on her. "A common +pebble," she added, echoing my words.</p> + +<p>"Then God forgive you," said I again, and I leant my head on my hand.</p> + +<p>"And you, good Simon, do you forgive me?"</p> + +<p>I was silent. She moved away petulantly, crying,</p> + +<p>"You're all so ready to call on God to forgive! Is forgiveness God's +only? Will none of you forgive for yourselves? Or are you so righteous +that you can't do what God must?"</p> + +<p>I sprang up and came to her.</p> + +<p>"Forgive?" I cried in a low voice. "Ay, I'll forgive. Don't talk of +forgiveness to me. I came to love."</p> + +<p>"To love? Now?" Her eyes grew wide in wonder, amusement, and delight.</p> + +<p>"Yes," said I.</p> + +<p>"You loved the gem; you'd love the pebble? Simon, Simon, where is Madame +your mother,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_144" id="Page_144">[Pg 144]</a></span> where my good friend the Vicar? Ah, where's your virtue, +Simon?"</p> + +<p>"Where yours shall be," I cried, seizing and covering her hands in mine. +"Where yours, there mine, and both in love that makes delight and virtue +one." I caught a hand to my lips and kissed it many times. "No sin comes +but by desire," said I, pleading, "and if the desire is no sin, there is +no sin. Come with me! I will fulfil all your desire and make your sin +dead."</p> + +<p>She shrank back amazed; this was strange talk to her; yet she left her +hand in mine.</p> + +<p>"Come with you? But whither, whither? We are no more in the fields at +Hatchstead."</p> + +<p>"We could be again," I cried. "Alone in the fields at Hatchstead."</p> + +<p>Even now she hardly understood what I would have, or, understanding, +could not believe that she understood rightly.</p> + +<p>"You mean—leave—leave London and go with you? With you alone?"</p> + +<p>"Yes—alone with your husband."</p> + +<p>She pulled her hand away with a jerk, crying, "You're mad!"</p> + +<p>"May be. Let me be mad, and be mad yourself also, sweetheart. If both of +us are mad, what hurt?"</p> + +<p>"What, I—I go—I leave the town—I leave the Court? And you?—You're +here to seek your fortune!"</p> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_145" id="Page_145">[Pg 145]</a></span></p> +<p>"Mayn't I dream that I've found it?" And again I caught her hand.</p> + +<p>After a moment she drew nearer to me; I felt her fingers press mine in +tenderness.</p> + +<p>"Poor Simon!" said she with a little laugh. "Indeed he remembers Cydaria +well. But Cydaria, such as she was, even Cydaria is gone. And now I am +not she." Then she laughed again, crying, "What folly!"</p> + +<p>"A moment ago you didn't call it folly."</p> + +<p>"Then I was doubly a fool," she answered with the first touch of +bitterness. "For folly it is, deep and black. I am not—nay, was I +ever?—one to ramble in green fields all day and go home to a cottage."</p> + +<p>"Never," said I. "Nor will be, save for the love of a man you love. Save +for that, what woman has been? But for that, how many!"</p> + +<p>"Why, very few," said she with a gentle little laugh. "And of that +few—I am not one. Nay, nor do I—am I cruel?—nor do I love you, +Simon."</p> + +<p>"You swear it?"</p> + +<p>"But a little—as a friend, an old friend."</p> + +<p>"And a dear one?"</p> + +<p>"One dear for a certain pleasant folly that he has."</p> + +<p>"You'll come?"</p> + +<p>"No."</p> + +<p>"Why not? But in a day neither you nor I would ask why."</p> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_146" id="Page_146">[Pg 146]</a></span></p> +<p>"I don't ask now. There's a regiment of reasons." Her laugh burst out +again; yet her eyes seemed tender.</p> + +<p>"Give me one."</p> + +<p>"I have given one. I don't love you."</p> + +<p>"I won't take it."</p> + +<p>"I am what I am."</p> + +<p>"You should be what I would make you."</p> + +<p>"You're to live at the Court. To serve the Duke of Monmouth, isn't it?"</p> + +<p>"What do I care for that? Are there no others?"</p> + +<p>"Let go my hand—No, let it go. See now, I'll show you. There's a ring +on it."</p> + +<p>"I see the ring."</p> + +<p>"A rich one."</p> + +<p>"Very rich."</p> + +<p>"Simon, do you guess who set it there?"</p> + +<p>"He is your King only while you make him such."</p> + +<p>"Nay," she cried with sudden passion, "I am set on my course." Then came +defiance. "I wouldn't change it. Didn't I tell you once that I might +have power with the King?"</p> + +<p>"Power? What's that to you? What's it to any of us beside love?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, I don't know anything about your love," she cried fretfully, "but I +know what I love—the stir, and the frowns of great ladies, and the +courting of great lords. Ah, but why do I talk? Do we reason with a +madman?"</p> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_147" id="Page_147">[Pg 147]</a></span></p> +<p>"If we are touched ever so little with his disease."</p> + +<p>She turned to me with sparkling eyes; she spoke very softly.</p> + +<p>"Ah, Simon, you too have a tongue! Can you also lure women? I think you +could. But keep it, Simon, keep it for your wife. There's many a maid +would gladly take the title, for you're a fine figure, and I think that +you know the way to a woman's heart."</p> + +<p>Standing above me (for I had sunk back in my chair) she caressed my +cheek gently with her hand. I was checked, but not beaten. My madness, +as she called it (as must not I also call it?), was still in me, hot and +surging. Hope was yet alive, for she had shown me tenderness, and once +it had seemed as though a passing shadow of remorse had shot across her +brightness. Putting out my hands, I took both of hers again, and so +looked up in her face, dumbly beseeching her; a smile quivered on her +lips as she shook her head at me.</p> + +<p>"Heaven keeps you for better things," she said.</p> + +<p>"I'd be the judge of them myself," I cried, and I sought to carry her +hands to my lips.</p> + +<p>"Let me go," she said; "Simon, you must let me go. Nay, you must. So! +Sit there, and I'll sit opposite to you."</p> + +<p>She did as she said, seating herself over against me, although quite +close. She looked me in the face. Presently she gave a little sigh.</p> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_148" id="Page_148">[Pg 148]</a></span></p> +<p>"Won't you leave me now?" she asked with a plaintive smile.</p> + +<p>I shook my head, but made no other answer.</p> + +<p>"I'm sorry," she went on softly, "that I came to Hatchstead; I'm sorry +that I brought you to London, that I met you in the Lane, that I brought +you here to-day. I didn't guess your folly. I've lived with players, and +with courtiers, and with—with one other; so I didn't dream of such +folly as yours. Yes, I'm sorry."</p> + +<p>"You can give me joy infinitely greater than any sorrow I've had by +you," said I in a low voice.</p> + +<p>On this she sat silent for a full minute, seeming to study my face. Then +she looked to right and left, as though she would fain have escaped. She +laughed a little, but grew grave again, saying, "I don't know why I +laughed," and sighing heavily. I watched every motion and change in her, +waiting for her to speak again. At last she spoke.</p> + +<p>"You won't be angry with me, Simon?" she asked coaxingly.</p> + +<p>"Why, no," I answered, wondering.</p> + +<p>"Nor run quite mad, nor talk of death, nor any horrors?"</p> + +<p>"I'll hear all you say calmly," I answered.</p> + +<p>She sat looking at me in a whimsical distress, seeming to deprecate +wrath and to pray my pardon yet still to hint amusement deep-hidden in +her mind. Then she drew herself up, and a strange and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_149" id="Page_149">[Pg 149]</a></span> most pitiful +pride appeared on her face. I did not know the meaning of it. She leant +forward towards me, blushing a little, and whispered my name.</p> + +<p>"I'm waiting to hear you," said I; my voice came hard, stern, and cold.</p> + +<p>"You'll be cruel to me, I know you will," she cried petulantly.</p> + +<p>"On my life, no," said I. "What is it you want to say?"</p> + +<p>She was like a child who shows you some loved forbidden toy that she +should not have, but prizes above all her trifles; there was that sly +joy, that ashamed exultation in her face.</p> + +<p>"I have promises," she whispered, clasping her hands and nodding her +head at me. "Ah, they make songs on me, and laugh at me, and Castlemaine +looks at me as though I were the street-dirt under her feet. But they +shall see! Ay, they shall see that I can match them!" She sprang to her +feet in reckless merriment, crying, "Shall I make a pretty countess, +Simon?" She came near to me and whispered with a mysterious air, "Simon, +Simon!"</p> + +<p>I looked up at her sparkling eyes.</p> + +<p>"Simon, what's he whom you serve, whom you're proud to serve? Who is he, +I say?" She broke into a laugh of triumph.</p> + +<p>But I, hearing her laugh, and finding my heart filled with a sudden +terror, spread my hands over my eyes and fell back heavily in my chair, +like a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_150" id="Page_150">[Pg 150]</a></span> sick man or a drunken. For now, indeed, I saw that my gem was +but a pebble. And the echo of her laugh rang in my ears.</p> + +<p>"So I can't come, Simon," I heard her say. "You see that I can't come. +No, no, I can't come"; and again she laughed.</p> + +<p>I sat where I was, hearing nothing but the echo of her laugh, unable to +think save of the truth that was driven so cruelly into my mind. The +first realising of things that cannot be undone brings to a young man a +fierce impotent resentment; that was in my heart, and with it a sudden +revulsion from what I had desired, as intemperate as the desire, as +cruel, it may be, as the thing which gave it birth. Nell's laughter died +away, and she was silent. Presently I felt a hand rest on my hands as +though seeking to convey sympathy in a grief but half-understood. I +shrank away, moving my hands till hers no longer touched them. There are +little acts, small matters often, on which remorse attends while life +lasts. Even now my heart is sore that I shrank away from her; she was +different now in nothing from what I had known of her; but I who had +desired passionately now shunned her; the thing had come home to me, +plain, close, in an odious intimacy. Yet I wish I had not shrunk away; +before I could think I had done it; and I found no words; better perhaps +that I attempted none.</p> + +<p>I looked up; she was holding out the hand before her; there was a +puzzled smile on her lips.</p> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_151" id="Page_151">[Pg 151]</a></span></p> +<p>"Does it burn, does it prick, does it soil, Simon?" she asked. "See, +touch it, touch it. It is as it was, isn't it?" She put it close by my +hand, waiting for me to take it, but I did not take it. "As it was when +you kissed it," said she; but still I did not take it.</p> + +<p>I rose to my feet slowly and heavily, like a tired man whose legs are +reluctant to resume their load. She stood quite still, regarding me now +with alarmed and wondering eyes.</p> + +<p>"It's nothing," I stammered. "Indeed it's nothing; only I hadn't thought +of it."</p> + +<p>Scarcely knowing what I did, I began to move towards the door. An +unreasoned instinct impelled me to get away from her. Yet my gaze was +drawn to her face; I saw her lips pouting and her cheek flushed, the +brightness of her eyes grew clouded. She loved me enough to be hurt by +me, if no more. A pity seized me; turning, I fell on my knee, and, +seizing the hand whose touch I had refused, I kissed it.</p> + +<p>"Ah, you kiss my hand now!" she cried, breaking into smiles again.</p> + +<p>"I kiss Cydaria's hand," said I. "For in truth I'm sorry for my +Cydaria."</p> + +<p>"She was no other than I am," she whispered, and now with a touch of +shame; for she saw that I felt shame for her.</p> + +<p>"Not what is hurts us, but what we know," said I. "Good-bye, Cydaria," +and again I kissed her<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_152" id="Page_152">[Pg 152]</a></span> hand. She drew it away from me and tossed her +head, crying angrily:</p> + +<p>"I wish I hadn't told you."</p> + +<p>"In God's name don't wish that," said I, and drew her gaze on me again +in surprise. I moved on my way, the only way my feet could tread. But +she darted after me, and laid her hand on my arm. I looked at her in +amazed questioning.</p> + +<p>"You'll come again, Simon, when—?" The smile would not be denied though +it came timidly, afraid for its welcome and distrustful of its right. +"When you're better, Simon?"</p> + +<p>I longed—with all my heart I longed—to be kind to her. How could the +thing be to her what it was to me? She could not understand why I was +aghast; extravagant despair, all in the style of a vanquished rival, +would have been easy for her to meet, to ridicule, to comfort. I knew +all this, but I could not find the means to affect it or to cover my own +distress.</p> + +<p>"You'll come again then?" she insisted pleadingly.</p> + +<p>"No," said I, bluntly, and cruelly with unwilling cruelty.</p> + +<p>At that a sudden gust of passion seized her and she turned on me, +denouncing me fiercely, in terms she took no care to measure, for a +prudish virtue that for good or evil was not mine, and for a narrowness +of which my reason was not guilty. I stood<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_153" id="Page_153">[Pg 153]</a></span> defenceless in the storm, +crying at the end no more than, "I don't think thus of you."</p> + +<p>"You treat me as though you thought thus," she cried. Yet her manner +softened and she came across to me, seeming now as if she might fall to +weeping. But at the instant the door opened and the saucy maid who had +ushered me in entered, running hastily to her mistress, in whose ears +she whispered, nodding and glancing the while at me.</p> + +<p>"The King!" cried Nell, and, turning to me, she added hastily: "He'd +best not find you here."</p> + +<p>"I ask no better than to be gone," said I.</p> + +<p>"I know, I know," she cried. "We're not disturbed! The King's coming +interrupts nothing, for all's finished. Go then, go, out of my sight." +Her anger seemed to rise again, while the serving-girl stared back +astonished as she passed out. But if she went to stay the King's coming, +she was too late. For he was in the doorway the instant she had passed +through; he had heard Nell's last speech, and now he showed himself, +asking easily,</p> + +<p>"Who's the gentleman of whose society you are so ready to be relieved?"</p> + +<p>I turned, bowing low. The King arched his brows. It may well be that he +had had enough of me already, and that he was not well pleased to +stumble on me again and in this place. But he said nothing, merely +turning his eyes to Nell in question.</p> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_154" id="Page_154">[Pg 154]</a></span></p> +<p>"You know him, Sir," said she, throwing herself into a chair.</p> + +<p>"Yes, I know him," said the King. "But, if I may ask without +presumption, what brings him here?"</p> + +<p>Nell looked at the pair of us, the King and Simon Dale, and answered +coolly,</p> + +<p>"My invitation."</p> + +<p>"The answer is all sufficient," bowed the King. "I'm before my time +then, for I received a like honour."</p> + +<p>"No, he's after his," said she. "But as you heard, Sir, I was urging him +to go."</p> + +<p>"Not on my account, I pray," said the King politely.</p> + +<p>"No, on his. He's not easy here."</p> + +<p>"Yet he outstayed his time!"</p> + +<p>"We had a matter of business together, Sir. He came to ask something of +me, but matters did not prove to be as he thought."</p> + +<p>"Indeed you must tell me more, or should have told me less. I'm of a +mighty curious disposition. Won't Mr Dale sit?" And the King seated +himself.</p> + +<p>"I will beg your Majesty's permission to depart," said I.</p> + +<p>"All requests here, sir, lie with this lady to grant or to refuse. In +this house I am a servant,—nay, a slave."</p> + +<p>Nell rose and coming to the side of the King's chair stood there.</p> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_155" id="Page_155">[Pg 155]</a></span></p> +<p>"Had things been other than they are, Mr Dale would have asked me to be +his wife," said she.</p> + +<p>A silence followed. Then the King remarked,</p> + +<p>"Had things been other than they are, Mr Dale would have done well."</p> + +<p>"And had they been other than they are, I might well have answered yes," +said Nell.</p> + +<p>"Why yes, very well," said the King. "For Mr Dale is, I'm very sure, a +gentleman of spirit and honour, although he seems, if I may say so, just +now rather taciturn."</p> + +<p>"But as matters are, Mr Dale would have no more of me."</p> + +<p>"It's not for me," said the King, "to quarrel with his resolve, although +I'm free to marvel at it."</p> + +<p>"And asks no more of me than leave to depart."</p> + +<p>"Do you find it hard, madame, to grant him that much?"</p> + +<p>She looked in the King's face and laughed in amusement, but whether at +him or me or herself I cannot tell.</p> + +<p>"Why, yes, mighty hard," said she. "It's strange how hard."</p> + +<p>"By my faith," said the King, "I begin to be glad that Mr Dale asked no +more. For if it be hard to grant him this little thing, it might have +been easy to grant him more. Come, is it granted to him?"</p> + +<p>"Let him ask for it again," said she, and leaving<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_156" id="Page_156">[Pg 156]</a></span> the King she came and +stood before me, raising her eyes to mine. "Would you leave me, Simon?" +she cried.</p> + +<p>"Yes, I would leave you, madame," said I.</p> + +<p>"To go whither?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know."</p> + +<p>"Yet the question isn't hard," interposed the King. "And the answer +is—elsewhere."</p> + +<p>"Elsewhere!" cried Nell. "But what does that mean, Sir?"</p> + +<p>"Nay, I don't know her name," said the King. "Nor, may be, does Mr Dale +yet. But he'll learn, and so, I hope, shall I, if I can be of service to +him."</p> + +<p>"I'm in no haste to learn it," cried Nell.</p> + +<p>"Why no," laughed the King.</p> + +<p>She turned to me again, holding out her hand as though she challenged me +to refuse it.</p> + +<p>"Good-bye, Simon," said she, and she broke into a strange little laugh +that seemed devoid of mirth, and to express a railing mockery of herself +and what she did.</p> + +<p>I saw the King watching us with attentive eyes and brows bent in a +frown.</p> + +<p>"Good-bye," said I. Looking into her eyes, I let my gaze dwell long on +her; it dwelt longer than I meant, reluctant to take last leave of old +friends. Then I kissed her hand and bowed very low to the King, who +replied with a good-natured nod; then turning I passed out of the room.</p> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_157" id="Page_157">[Pg 157]</a></span></p> +<p>I take it that the change from youth to manhood, and again from full +manhood to decline, comes upon us gradually, never ceasing but never +swift, as mind and body alike are insensibly transformed beneath the +assault of multitudinous unperceived forces of matter and of +circumstances; it is the result we know; that, not the process, is the +reality for us. We awake to find done what our sleepy brains missed in +the doing, and after months or years perceive ourselves in a second +older by all that period. We are jogged by the elbow, roused ruthlessly +and curtly bidden to look and see how we are changed, and wonder, weep, +or smile as may seem best to us in face of the metamorphosis. A moment +of such awakening came to me now; I seemed a man different from him who +had, no great number of minutes before, hastened to the house, inspired +by an insane hope, and aflame with a passion that defied reason and +summed up life in longing. The lackeys were there still, the maid's +smile altered only by a fuller and more roguish insinuation. On me the +change had passed, and I looked open-eyed on what I had been. Then came +a smile, close neighbour to a groan, and the scorn of my old self which +is the sad delirium wrought by moving time; but the lackey held the door +for me and I passed out.</p> + +<p>A noise sounded from above as the casement of the window was thrown +open. She looked out; her anger was gone, her emotion also seemed gone.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_158" id="Page_158">[Pg 158]</a></span> +She stood there smiling, very kindly but with mockery. She held in +either hand a flower. One she smelt and held her face long to it, as +though its sweetness kept her senses willing prisoners; turning to the +other, she smelt it for a short instant and then drew away, her face, +that told every mood with unfailing aptness, twisted into disappointment +or disgust. She leant out looking down on me; now behind her shoulder I +saw the King's black face, half-hidden by the hangings of the window. +She glanced at the first flower, then at the second, held up both her +hands for a moment, turned for an instant with a coquettish smile +towards the swarthy face behind, then handed the first flower with a +laugh into a hand that was stretched out for it, and flung the second +down to me. As it floated through the air, the wind disengaged its loose +petals and they drifted away, some reaching ground, some caught by gusts +and carried away, circling, towards the house-tops. The stalk fell by +me, almost naked, stripped of its bloom. For the second flower was +faded, and had no sweetness nor life left in it. Again her laugh sounded +above me, and the casement closed.</p> + +<p>I bent and picked up the stalk. Was it her own mood she told me in the +allegory? Or was it the mood she knew to be in me? There had been an +echo of sorrow in the laugh, of pity, kindness, and regret: and the +laugh that she uttered in giving the fresh bloom to the King had seemed +pure derision. It was my love, not hers, that found its symbol in<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_159" id="Page_159">[Pg 159]</a></span> the +dying flower and the stalk robbed of its glory. She had said well, it +was as she said; I picked up what she flung and went on my way, hugging +my dead.</p> + +<p>In this manner then, as I, Simon the old, have shewn, was I, Simon the +young, brought back to my senses. It is all very long ago.</p> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_160" id="Page_160">[Pg 160]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_X" id="CHAPTER_X"></a>CHAPTER X</h2> + +<h3>JE VIENS, TU VIENS, IL VIENT</h3> + + +<p>It pleased his Grace the Duke of Monmouth so to do all things that men +should heed his doing of them. Even in those days, and notwithstanding +certain transactions hereinbefore related, I was not altogether a fool, +and I had not been long about him before I detected this propensity and, +as I thought, the intention underlying it. To set it down boldly and +plainly, the more the Duke of Monmouth was in the eye of the nation, the +better the nation accustomed itself to regard him as the king's son; the +more it fell into the habit of counting him the king's son, the less +astonished and unwilling would it be if fate should place him on the +king's seat. Where birth is beyond reproach, dignity may be above +display; a defect in the first demands an ample exhibition of the +second. It was a small matter, this journey to Dover, yet, that he might +not go in the train of his father and the Duke of York, but make men +talk of his own going, he chose to start beforehand and alone; lest even +thus he should not win his meed of notice, he set all the inns and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_161" id="Page_161">[Pg 161]</a></span> all +the hamlets on the road a-gossiping, by accomplishing the journey from +London to Canterbury, in his coach-and-six, between sunrise and sunset +of a single day. To this end it was needful that the coach should be +light; Lord Carford, now his Grace's inseparable companion, alone sat +with him, while the rest of us rode on horseback, and the Post supplied +us with relays where we were in want of them. Thus we went down +gallantly and in very high style, with his Grace much delighted at being +told that never had king or subject made such pace in his travelling +since the memory of man began. Here was reward enough for all the +jolting, the flogging of horses, and the pain of yokels pressed +unwillingly into pushing the coach with their shoulders through miry +places.</p> + +<p>As I rode, I had many things to think of. My woe I held at arm's length. +Of what remained, the intimacy between his Grace and my Lord Carford, +who were there in the coach together, occupied my mind most constantly. +For by now I had moved about in the world a little, and had learnt that +many counted Carford no better than a secret Papist, that he was held in +private favour, but not honoured in public, by the Duke of York, and +that communications passed freely between him and Arlington by the hand +of the secretary's good servant and my good friend Mr Darrell. Therefore +I wondered greatly at my lord's friendship with Monmouth, and at his +showing an attachment to the Duke<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_162" id="Page_162">[Pg 162]</a></span> which, as I had seen at Whitehall, +appeared to keep in check even the natural jealousy and resentment of a +lover. But at Court a man went wrong if he held a thing unlikely because +there was dishonour in it. There men were not ashamed to be spies +themselves, nor to use their wives in the same office. There to see no +evil was to shut your eyes. I determined to keep mine open in the +interests of my new patron, of an older friend, and perhaps of myself +also, for Carford's present civility scarcely masked his dislike.</p> + +<p>We reached Canterbury while the light of the long summer evening still +served, and clattered up the street in muddy bravery. The town was out +to see his Grace, and his Grace was delighted to be seen by the town. +If, of their courtesy, they chose to treat him as a Prince, he could +scarcely refuse their homage, and if he accepted it, it was better to +accept like one to the manner born than awkwardly; yet I wondered +whether my lord made a note in his aspiring brain of all that passed, +and how soon the Duke of York would know that a Prince of Wales, coming +to Canterbury, could have received no greater honour. Nay, and they +hailed him as the champion of the Church, with hits at the Romish faith, +which my lord heard with eyes downcast to the ground and a rigid smile +carved on his face. It was all a forecast of what was one day to be; +perhaps to the hero of it a suggestion of what some day might be. At +least he was radiant over it, and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_163" id="Page_163">[Pg 163]</a></span> carried Carford off with him into his +apartment in the merriest mood. He did not invite me to join his party, +and I was well content to be left to wander for an hour in the quiet +close of the great cathedral. For let me say that a young man who has +been lately crossed in love is in a better mood for most unworldly +meditation, than he is likely to be before or after. And if he would not +be taken too strictly at his word in all he says to himself then, why, +who would, pray, and when?</p> + +<p>It was not my fault, but must be imputed to our nature, that in time my +stomach cried out angrily at my heart, and I returned to the inn, +seeking supper. His Grace was closeted with my lord, and I turned into +the public room, desiring no other company than what should lie on my +plate. But my host immediately made me aware that I must share my meal +and the table with a traveller who had recently arrived and ordered a +repast. This gentleman, concerning whom the host seemed in some +perplexity, had been informed that the Duke of Monmouth was in the +house, but had shown neither excitement at the news nor surprise, nor, +to the host's great scandal, the least desire for a sight of his Grace. +His men-servants, of whom he had two, seemed tongue-tied, so that the +host doubted if they had more than a few phrases of English, and set the +whole party down for Frenchmen.</p> + +<p>"Hasn't the gentleman given his name?" I asked.</p> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_164" id="Page_164">[Pg 164]</a></span></p> +<p>"No. He didn't offer it, and since he flung down money enough for his +entertainment I had no cause to ask it."</p> + +<p>"None," I remarked, "unless a man may be allowed more curiosity than a +beast. Stir yourself about supper," and walking in, I saluted, with all +the courtesy at my command, a young gentleman of elegant appearance (so +far as I could judge of him in traveller's garb) who sat at the table. +His greetings equalled mine in politeness, and we fell into talk on +different matters, he using the English language, which he spoke with +remarkable fluency, although evidently as a foreigner. His manner was +easy and assured, and I took it for no more than an accident that his +pistol lay ready to his hand, beside a small case or pocket-book of +leather on the table. He asked me my business, and I told him simply +that I was going in the Duke's train to Dover.</p> + +<p>"Ah, to meet Madame the Duchess of Orleans?" said he. "I heard of her +coming before I left France. Her visit, sir, will give great pleasure to +the King her brother."</p> + +<p>"More, if report speaks true, than to the Prince her husband," said I +with a laugh. For the talk at Court was that the Duke of Orleans hated +to let his wife out of his sight, while she for her part hated to be in +it. Both had their reasons, I do not doubt.</p> + +<p>"Perhaps," he answered with a shrug. "But<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_165" id="Page_165">[Pg 165]</a></span> it's hard to know the truth +in these matters. I am myself acquainted with many gentlemen at the +French Court, and they have much to say, but I believe little of it."</p> + +<p>Though I might commend his prudence, I was not encouraged to pursue the +topic, and, seeking a change of conversation, I paid him a compliment on +his mastery of English, hazarding a suggestion that he must have passed +some time in this country.</p> + +<p>"Yes," he replied, "I was in London for a year or more a little while +ago."</p> + +<p>"Your English puts my French to the blush," I laughed, "else hospitality +would bid me use your language."</p> + +<p>"You speak French?" he asked. "I confess it is easier to me."</p> + +<p>"Only a little, and that learnt from merchants, not at Court." For +traders of all nations had come from time to time to my uncle's house at +Norwich.</p> + +<p>"But I believe you speak very well," he insisted politely. "Pray let me +judge of your skill for myself."</p> + +<p>I was about to oblige him, when a loud dispute arose outside, French +ejaculations mingling with English oaths. Then came a scuffle. With a +hurried apology, the gentleman sprang to his feet and rushed out. I went +on with my supper, supposing that his servants had fallen into some +altercation with the landlord and that the parties could not make one +another understand. My conjecture<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_166" id="Page_166">[Pg 166]</a></span> was confirmed when the traveller +returned, declaring that the quarrel arose over the capacity of a +measure of wine and had been soon arranged. But then, with a little cry +of vexation, he caught up the pocket-book from the table and darted a +quick glance of suspicion at me. I was more amazed than angry, and my +smile caused him confusion, for he saw that I had detected his fear. +Thinking him punished enough for his rudeness (although it might find +some excuse in the indifferent honesty of many who frequented the roads +in the guise of travellers) I relieved him by resuming our conversation, +saying with a smile,</p> + +<p>"In truth my French is a school-boy's French. I can tell the parts of +the verb <i>J'aime, tu aimes, il aime;</i> it goes so far, sir, and no +farther."</p> + +<p>"Not far in speech, though often far enough in act," he laughed.</p> + +<p>"Truly," said I with a sigh.</p> + +<p>"Yet I swear you do yourself injustice. Is there no more?"</p> + +<p>"A little more of the same sort, sir." And, casting about for another +phrase with which to humour him, I took the first that came to my +tongue; leaning my arms on the table (for I had finished eating), I said +with a smile, "Well, what say you to this? This is something to know, +isn't it? <i>Je viens, tu viens, il vient.</i>"</p> + +<p>As I live, he sprang to his feet with a cry of alarm! His hand darted to +his breast where he<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_167" id="Page_167">[Pg 167]</a></span> had stowed the pocket-book; he tore it out and +examined the fastening with furious haste and anxiety. I sat struck +still with wonder; the man seemed mad. He looked at me now, and his +glance was full of deepest suspicion. He opened his mouth to speak, but +words seemed to fail him; he held out the leathern case towards me. +Strange as was the question that his gesture put I could not doubt it.</p> + +<p>"I haven't touched the book," said I. "Indeed, sir, only your visible +agitation can gain you pardon for the suggestion."</p> + +<p>"Then how—how?" he muttered.</p> + +<p>"You pass my understanding, sir," said I in petulant amusement. "I say +in jest 'I come, thou comest, he comes,' and the words act on you like +abracadabra and the blackest of magic. You don't, I presume, carry a +hornbook of French in your case; and if you do, I haven't robbed you of +it."</p> + +<p>He was turning the little case over and over in his hands, again +examining the clasps of it. His next freak was to snatch his pistol and +look to the priming. I burst out laughing, for his antics seemed absurd. +My laughter cooled him, and he made a great effort to regain his +composure. But I began to rally him.</p> + +<p>"Mayn't a man know how to say in French 'He comes' without stealing the +knowledge from your book, sir?" I asked. "You do us wrong if you<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_168" id="Page_168">[Pg 168]</a></span> think +that so much is known to nobody in England."</p> + +<p>He glared at me like a man who hears a jest, but cannot tell whether it +conceals earnest or not.</p> + +<p>"Open the case, sir," I continued in raillery. "Make sure all is there. +Come, you owe me that much."</p> + +<p>To my amazement he obeyed me. He opened the case and searched through +certain papers which it contained; at the end he sighed as though in +relief, yet his suspicious air did not leave him.</p> + +<p>"Now perhaps, sir," said I, squaring my elbows, "you'll explain the +comedy."</p> + +<p>That he could not do. The very impossibility of any explanation showed +that I had, in the most unexpected fashion, stumbled on some secret with +him even as I had before with Darrell. Was his secret Darrell's or his +own, the same or another? What it was I could not tell, but for certain +there it was. He had no resource but to carry the matter with a high +hand, and to this he betook himself with the readiness of his nation.</p> + +<p>"You ask an explanation, sir?" he cried. "There's nothing to explain, +and if there were, I give explanations when I please, and not to every +fellow who chooses to ask them of me."</p> + +<p>"I come, thou comest, he comes,—'tis a very mysterious phrase," said I. +"I can't tell what it means. And if you won't tell me, sir, I must ask +others."</p> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_169" id="Page_169">[Pg 169]</a></span></p> +<p>"You'll be wiser to ask nobody," he said menacingly.</p> + +<p>"Nay, I shall be no wiser if I ask nobody," I retorted with a smile.</p> + +<p>"Yet you'll tell nobody of what has passed," said he, advancing towards +me with the plain intention of imposing his will on me by fear, since +persuasion failed. I rose to my feet and answered, mimicking his +insolent words,</p> + +<p>"I give promises, sir, when I please, and not to every fellow who +chooses to ask them of me."</p> + +<p>"You shall give me your promise before you leave this room," he cried.</p> + +<p>His voice had been rising in passion and was now loud and fierce. +Whether the sound of it had reached the room above, or whether the Duke +and Carford had grown weary of one another, I do not know, but as the +French gentleman uttered this last threat Carford opened the door, stood +aside to let his Grace enter, and followed himself. As they came in, we +were in a most hostile attitude; for the Frenchman's pistol was in his +hand, and my hand had flown to the hilt of my sword. The Duke looked at +us in astonishment.</p> + +<p>"Why, what's this, gentlemen?" he said. "Mr Dale, are you at variance +with this gentleman?" But before I had time to answer him, he had +stepped forward and seen the Frenchman's face. "Why, here is M. de +Fontelles!" he cried in surprise. "I am very pleased to see you, sir,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_170" id="Page_170">[Pg 170]</a></span> +again in England. Carford, here is M. de Fontelles. You were acquainted +with him when he was in the suite of the French Ambassador? You carry a +message, sir?"</p> + +<p>I listened keenly to all that the Duke's words told me. M. de Fontelles +bowed low, but his confusion was in no way abated, and he made no answer +to his Grace's question. The Duke turned to me, saying with some +haughtiness,</p> + +<p>"This gentleman is a friend of mine, Mr Dale. Pray why was your hand on +your sword?"</p> + +<p>"Because the gentleman's pistol was in his hand, sir."</p> + +<p>"You appear always to be very ready for a quarrel, Mr Dale," said the +Duke, with a glance at Carford. "Pray, what's the dispute?"</p> + +<p>"I'll tell your Grace the whole matter," said I readily enough, for I +had nothing to blame myself with.</p> + +<p>"No, I won't have it told," cried M. de Fontelles.</p> + +<p>"It's my pleasure to hear it," said the Duke coldly.</p> + +<p>"Well, sir, it was thus," said I, with a candid air. "I protested to +this gentleman that my French was sadly to seek; he was polite enough to +assure me that I spoke it well. Upon this I owned to some small +knowledge, and for an example I said to him, '<i>J'aime, tu aimes, il +aime</i>.' He received the remark, sir, with the utmost amiability."</p> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_171" id="Page_171">[Pg 171]</a></span></p> +<p>"He could do no less," said the Duke with a smile.</p> + +<p>"But he would have it that this didn't exhaust my treasure of learning. +Therefore, after leaving me for a moment to set straight a difference +that had arisen between his servants and our host, he returned, put away +a leathern case that he had left on the table (concerning which indeed +he seemed more uneasy than would be counted courteous here in England, +seeing that I had been all the while alone in the room with it), and +allowed me to resume my exhibition of French-speaking. To humour him and +to pass away the hour during which I was deprived of the pleasure of +attending your Grace——"</p> + +<p>"Yes, yes, Mr Dale. Don't delay in order to compliment me," said the +Duke, smiling still.</p> + +<p>"I leant across the table, sir, and I made him a speech that sent him, +to all seeming, half-way out of his senses; for he sprang up, seized his +case, looked at the fastenings, saw to the priming of his pistol, and +finally presumed to exact from me a promise that I would consult nobody +as to the perplexity into which this strange behaviour of his had flung +me. To that I demurred, and hence the quarrel with which I regret most +humbly that your Grace should have been troubled."</p> + +<p>"I'm obliged to you, Mr Dale. But what was this wonder-working phrase?"</p> + +<p>"Why, sir, just the first that came into my head. I said to the +gentleman—to M. de Fontelles, as I<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_172" id="Page_172">[Pg 172]</a></span> understand him to be called—I said +to him softly and gently—<i>Je viens, tu viens</i>——"</p> + +<p>The Duke seized me by the arm, with a sudden air of excitement. Carford +stepped forward and stood beside him.</p> + +<p>"<i>Je viens, tu viens</i>.... Yes! And any more?" cried the Duke.</p> + +<p>"Yes, your Grace," I answered, again amazed. "I completed what +grammarians call the Singular Number by adding '<i>Il vient;</i>' +whereupon—but I have told you."</p> + +<p>"<i>Il vient?</i>" cried the Duke and Carford all in a breath.</p> + +<p>"<i>Il vient</i>," I repeated, thinking now that all the three had run mad. +Carford screened his mouth with his hand and whispered in the Duke's +ear. The Duke nodded and made some answer. Both seemed infinitely +stirred and interested. M. de Fontelles had stood in sullen silence by +the table while I told the story of our quarrel; now his eyes were fixed +intently on the Duke's face.</p> + +<p>"But why," said I, "that simple phrase worked such strange agitation in +the gentleman, your Grace's wisdom may discover. I am at a loss."</p> + +<p>Still Carford whispered, and presently the Duke said,</p> + +<p>"Come, gentlemen, you've fallen into a foolish quarrel where no quarrel +need have come. Pray be friends again."</p> + +<p>M. de Fontelles drew himself up stiffly.</p> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_173" id="Page_173">[Pg 173]</a></span></p> +<p>"I asked a promise of that gentleman, and he refused it me," he said.</p> + +<p>"And I asked an explanation of that gentleman, and he refused it me," +said I, just as stiffly.</p> + +<p>"Well, then, Mr Dale shall give his promise to me. Will that be +agreeable to you, Mr Dale?"</p> + +<p>"I'm at your Grace's commands, in all things," I answered, bowing.</p> + +<p>"And you'll tell nobody of M. de Fontelles' agitation?"</p> + +<p>"If your Grace pleases. To say the truth, I don't care a fig for his +fierceness. But the explanation, sir?"</p> + +<p>"Why, to make all level," answered the Duke, smiling and fixing his gaze +upon the Frenchman, "M. de Fontelles will give his explanation to me."</p> + +<p>"I cry agreed, your Grace!" said I. "Come, let him give it."</p> + +<p>"To me, Mr Dale, not to you," smiled the Duke.</p> + +<p>"What, am I not to hear why he was so fierce with me?"</p> + +<p>"You don't care a fig for his fierceness, Mr Dale," he reminded me, +laughing.</p> + +<p>I saw that I was caught, and had the sense to show no annoyance, +although I must confess to a very lively curiosity.</p> + +<p>"Your Grace wishes to be alone with M. de Fontelles?" I asked readily +and deferentially.</p> + +<p>"For a little while, if you'll give us leave," he answered, but he added +to Carford, "No, you needn't move, Carford."</p> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_174" id="Page_174">[Pg 174]</a></span></p> +<p>So I made my bow and left them, not well pleased, for my brain was on +the rack to discover what might be the secret which hung on that +mysterious phrase, and which I had so nearly surprised from M. de +Fontelles.</p> + +<p>"The gist of it," said I to myself, as I turned to the kitchen, "lies, +if I am not mistaken, in the third member. For when I had said <i>Je +viens, tu viens</i>, the Duke interrupted me, crying, 'Any more?'"</p> + +<p>I had made for the kitchen since there was no other room open to me, and +I found it tenanted by the French servants of M. de Fontelles. Although +peace had been made between them and the host, they sat in deep +dejection; the reason was plain to see in two empty glasses and an empty +bottle that stood on a table between them. Kindliness, aided, it may be, +by another motive, made me resolve to cure their despondency.</p> + +<p>"Gentlemen," said I in French, going up to them, "you do not drink!"</p> + +<p>They rose, bowing, but I took a third chair between them and motioned +them to be seated.</p> + +<p>"We have not the wherewithal, sir," said one with a wistful smile.</p> + +<p>"The thing is mended as soon as told," I cried, and, calling the host, I +bade him bring three bottles. "A man is more at home with his own +bottle," said I.</p> + +<p>With the wine came new gaiety, and with gaiety<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_175" id="Page_175">[Pg 175]</a></span> a flow of speech. M. de +Fontelles would have admired the fluency with which I discoursed with +his servants, they telling me of travelling in their country, I +describing the incidents of the road in England.</p> + +<p>"There are rogues enough on the way in both countries, I'll warrant," I +laughed. "But perhaps you carry nothing of great value and laugh at +robbers?"</p> + +<p>"Our spoil would make a robber a poor meal, sir; but our master is in a +different plight."</p> + +<p>"Ah! He carries treasure?"</p> + +<p>"Not in money, sir," answered one. The other nudged him, as though to +bid him hold his tongue.</p> + +<p>"Come, fill your glasses," I cried, and they obeyed very readily.</p> + +<p>"Well, men have met their death between here and London often enough +before now," I pursued meditatively, twisting my glass of wine in my +fingers. "But with you for his guard, M. de Fontelles should be safe +enough."</p> + +<p>"We're charged to guard him with our lives, and not leave him till he +comes to the Ambassador's house."</p> + +<p>"But these rogues hunt sometimes in threes and fours," said I. "You +might well lose one of your number."</p> + +<p>"We're cheap, sir," laughed one. "The King of France has many of us."</p> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_176" id="Page_176">[Pg 176]</a></span></p> +<p>"But if your master were the one?"</p> + +<p>"Even then provision is made."</p> + +<p>"What? Could you carry his message—for if his treasure isn't money, I +must set it down as tidings—to the Ambassador."</p> + +<p>They looked at one another rather doubtfully. But I was not behindhand +in filling their glasses.</p> + +<p>"Still we should go on, even without <i>Monsieur</i>," said one.</p> + +<p>"But to what end?" I cried in feigned derision.</p> + +<p>"Why, we too have a message."</p> + +<p>"Indeed. Can you carry the King's message?"</p> + +<p>"None better, sir," said the shorter of the pair, with a shrewd twinkle +in his eye. "For we don't understand it."</p> + +<p>"Is it difficult then?"</p> + +<p>"Nay, it's so simple as to see without meaning."</p> + +<p>"What, so simple—but your bottle is empty! Come, another?"</p> + +<p>"Indeed no, <i>Monsieur</i>."</p> + +<p>"A last bottle between us! I'll not be denied." And I called for a +fourth.</p> + +<p>When we were well started on the drinking of it, I asked carelessly,</p> + +<p>"And what's your message?"</p> + +<p>But neither the wine nor the negligence of my question had quite lulled +their caution to sleep. They shook their heads, and laughed, saying,</p> + +<p>"We're forbidden to tell that."</p> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_177" id="Page_177">[Pg 177]</a></span></p> +<p>"Yet, if it be so simple as to have no meaning, what harm in telling +it?"</p> + +<p>"But orders are orders, and we're soldiers," answered the shrewd short +fellow.</p> + +<p>The idea had been working in my brain, growing stronger and stronger +till it reached conviction. I determined now to put it to the proof.</p> + +<p>"Tut," said I. "You make a pretty secret of it, and I don't blame you. +But I can guess your riddle. Listen. If anything befell M. de Fontelles, +which God forbid——"</p> + +<p>"Amen, amen," they murmured with a chuckle.</p> + +<p>"You two, or if fate left but one, that one, would ride on at his best +speed to London, and there seek out the Ambassador of the Most Christian +King. Isn't it so?"</p> + +<p>"So much, sir, you might guess from what we've said."</p> + +<p>"Ay, ay, I claim no powers of divination. Yet I'll guess a little more. +On being admitted to the presence of the Ambassador, he would relate the +sad fate of his master, and would then deliver his message, and that +message would be——" I drew my chair forward between them and laid a +finger on the arm of each. "That message," said I, "would be just like +this—and indeed it's very simple, and seems devoid of all rational +meaning: <i>Je viens</i>." They started. "<i>Tu viens.</i>" They gaped. "<i>Il +vient</i>," I cried triumphantly, and their chairs shot back as they sprang +to their feet, astonishment<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_178" id="Page_178">[Pg 178]</a></span> vivid on their faces. For me, I sat there +laughing in sheer delight at the excellence of my aim and the shrewdness +of my penetration.</p> + +<p>What they would have said, I do not know. The door was flung open and M. +de Fontelles appeared. He bowed coldly to me and vented on his servants +the anger from which he was not yet free, calling them drunken knaves +and bidding them see to their horses and lie down in the stable, for he +must be on his way by daybreak. With covert glances at me which implored +silence and received the answer of a reassuring nod, they slunk away. I +bowed to M. de Fontelles with a merry smile; I could not conceal my +amusement and did not care how it might puzzle him. I strode out of the +kitchen and made my way up the stairs. I had to pass the Duke's +apartment. The light still burned there, and he and Carford were sitting +at the table. I put my head in.</p> + +<p>"If your Grace has no need of me, I'll seek my bed," said I, mustering a +yawn.</p> + +<p>"No need at all," he answered. "Good-night to you, Simon." But then he +added, "You'll keep your promise to me?"</p> + +<p>"Your Grace may depend on me."</p> + +<p>"Though in truth I may tell you that the whole affair is nothing; it's +no more than a matter of gallantry, eh, Carford?"</p> + +<p>"No more," said my Lord Carford.</p> + +<p>"But such matters are best not talked of."</p> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_179" id="Page_179">[Pg 179]</a></span></p> +<p>I bowed as he dismissed me, and pursued my way to my room. A matter of +gallantry might, it seemed, be of moment to the messengers of the King +of France. I did not know what to make of the mystery, but I knew there +was a mystery.</p> + +<p>"And it turns," said I to myself, "on those little words '<i>Il vient</i>.' +Who is he? Where comes he? And to what end? Perhaps I shall learn these +things at Dover."</p> + +<p>There is this to be said. A man's heart aches less when his head is +full. On that night I did not sigh above half my usual measure.</p> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_180" id="Page_180">[Pg 180]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XI" id="CHAPTER_XI"></a>CHAPTER XI</h2> + +<h3>THE GENTLEMAN FROM CALAIS</h3> + + +<p>Good fortune and bad had combined to make me somewhat more of a figure +in the eyes of the Court than was warranted by my abilities or my +station. The friend of Mistress Gwyn and the favourite of the Duke of +Monmouth (for this latter title his Grace's signal kindness soon +extorted from the amused and the envious) was a man whom great folk +recognised, and to whom small folk paid civility. Lord Carford had +become again all smiles and courtesy; Darrell, who arrived in the +Secretary's train, compensated in cordiality for what he lacked in +confidence; my Lord Arlington himself presented me in most flattering +terms to the French King's envoy, M. Colbert de Croissy, who, in his +turn, greeted me with a warmth and regarded me with a curiosity that +produced equal gratification and bewilderment in my mind. Finally, the +Duke of Monmouth insisted on having me with him in the Castle, though +the greater part of the gentlemen attached to the Royal and noble +persons were sent to lodge in the town for want of accommodation<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_181" id="Page_181">[Pg 181]</a></span> within +the walls. My private distress, from which I recovered but slowly, or, +to speak more properly, suppressed with difficulty, served to prevent me +from becoming puffed up with the conceit which this success might well +have inspired.</p> + +<p>The first part of Betty Nasroth's prophecy now stood fulfilled, ay, as I +trusted, utterly finished and accomplished; the rest tarried. I had +guessed that there was a secret, what it was remained unknown to me and, +as I soon suspected, to people more important. The interval before the +arrival of the Duchess of Orleans was occupied in many councils and +conferences; at most of them the Duke of Monmouth was present, and he +told me no more than all the Court conjectured when he said that Madame +d'Orléans came with a project for a new French Alliance and a fresh war +with the Dutch. But there were conferences at which he was not present, +nor the Duke of Buckingham, but only the King, his brother (so soon as +his Royal Highness joined us from London), the French Envoy, and +Clifford and Arlington. Of what passed at these my master knew nothing, +though he feigned knowledge; he would be restless when I, having used my +eyes, told him that the King had been with M. Colbert de Croissy for two +hours, and that the Duke of York had walked on the wall above an hour in +earnest conversation with the Treasurer. He felt himself ignored, and +poured out his indignation unreservedly to Carford. Carford would frown +and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_182" id="Page_182">[Pg 182]</a></span> throw his eyes towards me, as though to ask if I were to hear these +things, but the Duke refused his suggestion. Nay, once he said in jest:</p> + +<p>"What I say is as safe with him as with you, my lord, or safer."</p> + +<p>I wondered to see Carford indignant.</p> + +<p>"Why do you say safer, sir?" he asked haughtily, while the colour on his +cheeks was heightened. "Is any man's honour more to be trusted than +mine?"</p> + +<p>"Ah, man, I meant nothing against your honour; but Simon here has a +discretion that heaven does not give to everyone."</p> + +<p>Now, when I see a man so sensitive to suspicion as to find it in every +careless word, I am set thinking whether he may not have some cause to +fear suspicion. Honesty expects no accusation. Carford's readiness to +repel a charge not brought caught my notice, and made me ponder more on +certain other conferences to which also his Grace my patron was a +stranger. More than once had I found Arlington and Carford together, +with M. Colbert in their company, and on the last occasion of such an +encounter Carford had requested me not to mention his whereabouts to the +Duke, advancing the trivial pretext that he should have been engaged on +his Grace's business. His Grace was not our schoolmaster. But I was +deceived, most amiably deceived, and held my tongue as he prayed. Yet I +watched him close, and soon, had a man told me that the Duke<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_183" id="Page_183">[Pg 183]</a></span> of York +thought it well to maintain a friend of his own in his nephew's +confidence, I would have hazarded that friend's name without fear of +mistake.</p> + +<p>So far the affair was little to me, but when Mistress Barbara came from +London the day before Madame was to arrive, hardly an hour passed before +I perceived that she also, although she knew it not, had her part to +play. I cannot tell what reward they offered Carford for successful +service; if a man who sells himself at a high price be in any way less a +villain than he who takes a penny, I trust that the price was high; for +in pursuance of the effort to obtain Monmouth's confidence and an +ascendency over him, Carford made use of the lady whom he had courted, +and, as I believed, still courted, for his own wife. He threw her in +Monmouth's way by tricks too subtle for her to detect, but plain to an +attentive observer. I knew from her father that lately he had again +begged her hand, and that she had listened with more show of favour. Yet +he was the Duke's very humble servant in all the plans which that +headstrong young man now laid against the lady's peace and honour. Is +there need to state the scheme more plainly? In those days a man might +rise high and learn great secrets, if he knew when to shut his eyes and +how to knock loud before he entered the room.</p> + +<p>I should have warned her. It is true; but the mischief lay in the fact +that by no means could I<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_184" id="Page_184">[Pg 184]</a></span> induce her to exchange a word with me. She was +harder by far to me than she had shewn herself in London. Perhaps she +had heard how I had gone to Chelsea; but whether for good reason or bad, +my crime now seemed beyond pardon. Stay; perhaps my condition was below +her notice; or sin and condition so worked together that she would have +nothing of me, and I could do nothing but look on with outward calm and +hidden sourness while the Duke plied her with flatteries that soon grew +to passionate avowals, and Carford paid deferential suit when his +superior was not in the way. She triumphed in her success as girls will, +blind to its perils as girls are; and Monmouth made no secret of his +hopes of success, as he sat between Carford's stolid face and my +downcast eyes.</p> + +<p>"She's the loveliest creature in the world," he would cry. "Come, drink +a toast to her!" I drank silently, while Carford led him on to +unrestrained boasts and artfully fanned his passion.</p> + +<p>At last—it was the evening of the day before Madame was to come—I met +her where she could not avoid me, by the Constable's Tower, and alone. I +took my courage in my hands and faced her, warning her of her peril in +what delicate words I could find. Alas, I made nothing of it. A scornful +jest at me and my righteousness (of which, said she, all London had been +talking a little while back) was the first shot from her battery. The +mention of the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_185" id="Page_185">[Pg 185]</a></span> Duke's name brought a blush and a mischievous smile, as +she answered:</p> + +<p>"Shouldn't I make a fine Duchess, Mr Dale?"</p> + +<p>"Ay, if he made you one," said I with gloomy bluntness.</p> + +<p>"You insult me, sir," she cried, and the flush on her face deepened.</p> + +<p>"Then I do in few words what his Grace does in many," I retorted.</p> + +<p>I went about it like a dolt, I do not doubt. For she flew out at me, +demanding in what esteem I held her, and in what her birth fell short of +Anne Hyde's—"who is now Duchess of York, and in whose service I have +the honour to be."</p> + +<p>"Is that your pattern?" I asked. "Will the King interpose for you as he +did for the daughter of Lord Clarendon?"</p> + +<p>She tossed her head, answering:</p> + +<p>"Perhaps so much interference will not be needed."</p> + +<p>"And does my Lord Carford share these plans of yours?" I asked with a +sneer.</p> + +<p>The question touched her; she flushed again, but gave way not an inch.</p> + +<p>"Lord Carford has done me much honour, as you know," said she, "but he +wouldn't stand in my way here."</p> + +<p>"Indeed he doesn't!" I cried. "Nor in his Grace's!"</p> + +<p>"Have you done, sir?" says she most scornfully.</p> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_186" id="Page_186">[Pg 186]</a></span></p> +<p>"I have done, madame," said I, and on she swept.</p> + +<p>"Yet you shall come to no harm," I added to myself as I watched her +proud free steps carry her away. She also, it seemed, had her dream; I +hoped that no more than hurt pride and a heart for the moment sore would +come of it. Yet if the flatteries of princes pleased, she was to be +better pleased soon, and the Duke of Monmouth seem scarcely higher to +her than Simon Dale.</p> + +<p>Then came Madame in the morning from Dunkirk, escorted by the +Vice-Admiral, and met above a mile from the coast by the King in his +barge; the Duke of York, Prince Rupert, and my Duke (on whom, I +attended) accompanying His Majesty. Madame seemed scarcely as beautiful +as I had heard, although of a very high air and most admirable carriage +and address; and my eyes, prone, I must confess, to seek the fairest +face, wandered from hers to a lady who stood near, gifted with a +delicate and alluring, yet childish, beauty, who gazed on the gay scene +with innocent interest and a fresh enjoyment. Madame, having embraced +her kinsmen, presented the lady to His Majesty by the name of +Mademoiselle Louise Renée de Perrencourt de Quérouaille (the name was +much shortened by our common folk in later days), and the King kissed +her hand, saying that he was rejoiced to see her—as indeed he seemed to +be, if a man might judge by the time he spent in looking at her, and +the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_187" id="Page_187">[Pg 187]</a></span> carelessness with which he greeted the others in attendance on +Madame.</p> + +<p>"And these are all who come with you, sister?" he asked.</p> + +<p>She answered him clearly, almost loudly:</p> + +<p>"Except a gentleman who is to join me from Calais to-morrow, with +messages from the King."</p> + +<p>I heard no more, being forced to move away and leave the royal group +alone. I had closely examined all who came. For in the presence of +Madame I read <i>Je viens</i>, in our King's, <i>Tu viens</i>; but I saw none +whose coming would make the tidings <i>Il vient</i> worthy of a special +messenger to London. But there was a gentleman to arrive from Calais. I +had enough curiosity to ask M. le Comte d'Albon, who (with his wife) +accompanied Madame and stood by me on deck as we returned to land, who +this gentleman might be.</p> + +<p>"He is called M. de Perrencourt," the Count replied, "and is related +remotely to the lady whom you saw with Madame."</p> + +<p>I was disappointed, or rather checked. Was M. de Perrencourt so +important that they wrote <i>Il vient</i> about him and sent the tidings to +London?</p> + +<p>After some time, when we were already coming near to shore, I observed +Madame leave the King and go walking to and fro on the deck in company +with Monmouth. He was very merry and she was very gracious; I amused +myself with watching so handsome and well-matched a pair. I did not<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_188" id="Page_188">[Pg 188]</a></span> +wonder that my Duke was in a mighty good temper, for, even had she been +no Princess, her company was such as would please a man's pride and +content his fancy. So I leant against the mast, thinking it a pity that +they troubled their pretty heads with Dutch wars and the like tiresome +matters, and were not content to ornament the world, leaving its rule to +others. But presently I saw the Duke point towards me, and Madame's +glance follow his finger; he talked to her again and both laughed. Then, +just as we came by the landing-stage, she laid her hand on his arm, as +though in command. He laughed again, shrugging his shoulders, then +raised his hand and beckoned to me. Now I, while watching, had been most +diligent in seeming not to watch, and it needed a second and +unmistakable signal from his Grace before I hastened up, hat in hand. +Madame was laughing, and, as I came, I heard her say, "Yes, but I will +speak to him." The Duke, with another shrug, bade me come near, and in +due form presented me. She gave me her hand to kiss, saying with a smile +that showed her white teeth,</p> + +<p>"Sir, I asked to be shown the most honest man in Dover, and my cousin +Monmouth has brought you to me."</p> + +<p>I perceived that Monmouth, seeking how to entertain her, had not +scrupled to press me into his service. This I could not resent, and +since I saw that she was not too dull to be answered in the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_189" id="Page_189">[Pg 189]</a></span> spirit of +her address, I made her a low bow and said:</p> + +<p>"His Grace, Madame, conceived you to mean in Dover Castle. The townsmen, +I believe, are very honest."</p> + +<p>"And you, though the most honest in the Castle, are not very honest?"</p> + +<p>"I take what I find, Madame," I answered.</p> + +<p>"So M. Colbert tells me," she said with a swift glance at me. "Yet it's +not always worth taking."</p> + +<p>"I keep it, in case it should become so," I answered, for I guessed that +Colbert had told her of my encounter with M. de Fontelles; if that were +so, she might have a curiosity to see me without the added inducement of +Monmouth's malicious stories.</p> + +<p>"Not if it be a secret? No man keeps that," she cried.</p> + +<p>"He may, if he be not in love, Madame."</p> + +<p>"But are you that monster, Mr Dale?" said she. "Shame on the ladies of +my native land! Yet I'm glad! For, if you're not in love, you'll be more +ready to serve me, perhaps."</p> + +<p>"Mr Dale, Madame, is not incapable of falling in love," said Monmouth +with a bow. "Don't try his virtue too much."</p> + +<p>"He shall fall in love then with Louise," she cried.</p> + +<p>Monmouth made a grimace, and the Duchess<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_190" id="Page_190">[Pg 190]</a></span> suddenly fell to laughing, as +she glanced over her shoulder towards the King, who was busily engaged +in conversation with Mlle. de Quérouaille.</p> + +<p>"Indeed, no!" I exclaimed with a fervour that I had not intended. No +more of that part of Betty Nasroth's prophecy for me, and the King's +attentions were already particular. "But if I can serve your Royal +Highness, I am body and soul at your service."</p> + +<p>"Body and soul?" said she. "Ah, you mean saving—what is it? Haven't you +reservations?"</p> + +<p>"His Grace has spared me nothing," said I, with a reproachful glance at +Monmouth.</p> + +<p>"The more told of you the better you're liked, Simon," said he kindly. +"See, Madame, we're at the landing, and there's a crowd of loyal folk to +greet you."</p> + +<p>"I know the loyalty of the English well," said she in a low voice and +with a curling lip. "They have their reservations like Mr Dale. Ah, +you're speaking, Mr Dale?"</p> + +<p>"To myself, Madame," I answered, bowing profoundly. She laughed, shaking +her head at me, and passed on. I was glad she did not press me, for what +I had said was, "Thank God," and I might likely enough have told a lie +if she had put me to the question.</p> + +<p>That night the King entertained his sister at a great banquet in the +hall of the Castle, where there<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_191" id="Page_191">[Pg 191]</a></span> was much drinking of toasts, and much +talk of the love that the King of France had for the King of England, +and our King for the other King, and we for the French (whereas we hated +them) and they for us (although they wasted no kindness on us); but at +least every man got as much wine as he wanted, and many of them more +than they had fair occasion for; and among these last I must count the +Duke of Monmouth. For after the rest had risen from table he sat there +still, calling Carford to join him, and even bidding me sit down by his +side. Carford seemed in no haste to get him away, although very anxious +to relieve me of my post behind his chair, but at last, by dint of +upbraiding them both, I prevailed on Carford to offer his arm and the +Duke to accept it, while I supported him on the other side. Thus we set +out for his Grace's quarters, making a spectacle sad enough to a +moralist, but too ordinary at Court for any remark to be excited by it. +Carford insisted that he could take the Duke alone; I would not budge. +My lord grew offensive, hinting of busybodies who came between the Duke +and his friends. Pushed hard, I asked the Duke himself if I should leave +him. He bade me stay, swearing that I was an honest fellow and no +Papist, as were some he knew. I saw Carford start; his Grace saw nothing +save the entrance of his chamber, and that not over-plainly. But we got +him in, and into a seat, and the door shut. Then he called for more +wine, and Carford at once brought<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_192" id="Page_192">[Pg 192]</a></span> it to him and pledged him once and +again, Monmouth drinking deep.</p> + +<p>"He's had more than he can carry already," I whispered. Carford turned +straight to the Duke, crying, "Mr Dale here says that your Grace is +drunk." He made nothing by the move, for the Duke answered +good-humouredly,</p> + +<p>"Truly I am drunk, but in the legs only, my good Simon. My head is +clear, clear as daylight, or the——" He looked round cunningly, and +caught each of us by the arm. "We're good Protestants here?" he asked +with a would-be shrewd, wine-muddled glance.</p> + +<p>"Sound and true, your Grace," said Carford. Then he whispered to me, +"Indeed I think he's ill. Pray run for the King's physician, Mr Dale."</p> + +<p>"Nay, he'd do well enough if he were alone with me. If you desire the +physician's presence, my lord, he's easy to find."</p> + +<p>I cared not a jot for Carford's anger, and was determined not to give +ground. But we had no more time for quarrelling.</p> + +<p>"I am as loyal—as loyal to my father as any man in the kingdom," said +the Duke in maudlin confidence. "But you know what's afoot?"</p> + +<p>"A new war with the Dutch, I'm told, sir," said I.</p> + +<p>"A fig for the Dutch! Hush, we must speak low, there may be Papists +about. There are some in the Castle, Carford. Hush, hush! Some say my<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_193" id="Page_193">[Pg 193]</a></span> +uncle's one, some say the Secretary's one. Gentlemen, I—I say no more. +Traitors have said that my father is——"</p> + +<p>Carford interrupted him.</p> + +<p>"Don't trouble your mind with these slanders, sir," he urged.</p> + +<p>"I won't believe it. I'll stand by my father. But if the Duke of +York—But I'll say no more." His head fell on his breast. But in a +moment he sprang to his feet, crying, "But I'm a Protestant. Yes, and +I'm the King's son." He caught Carford by the arm, whispering, "Not a +word of it. I'm ready. We know what's afoot. We're loyal to the King; we +must save him. But if we can't—if we can't, isn't there one +who—who——?"</p> + +<p>He lost his tongue for an instant. We stood looking at him, till he +spoke again. "One who would be a Protestant King?"</p> + +<p>He spoke the last words loud and fiercely; it was the final effort, and +he sank back in his chair in a stupor. Carford gave a hasty glance at +his face.</p> + +<p>"I'll go for the physician," he cried. "His Grace may need +blood-letting."</p> + +<p>I stepped between him and the door as he advanced.</p> + +<p>"His Grace needs nothing," said I, "except the discretion of his +friends. We've heard foolish words that we should not have heard +to-night, my lord."</p> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_194" id="Page_194">[Pg 194]</a></span></p> +<p>"I am sure they're safe with you," he answered.</p> + +<p>"And with you?" I retorted quickly.</p> + +<p>He drew himself up haughtily.</p> + +<p>"Stand aside, sir, and let me pass."</p> + +<p>"Where are you going?"</p> + +<p>"To fetch the physician. I'll answer none of your questions."</p> + +<p>I could not stop him without an open brawl, and that I would not +encounter, for it could lead only to my own expulsion. Yet I was sure +that he would go straight to Arlington, and that every word the Duke had +spoken would be carried to York, and perhaps to the King, before next +morning. The King would be informed, if it were thought possible to +prejudice him against his son; York, at least, would be warned of the +mad scheme which was in the young Duke's head. I drew aside and with a +surly bow let Carford pass. He returned my salutation with an equal +economy of politeness, and left me alone with Monmouth, who had now sunk +into a heavy and uneasy sleep. I roused him and got him to bed, glad to +think that his unwary tongue would be silent for a few hours at least. +Yet what he had said brought me nearer to the secret and the mystery. +There was indeed more afoot than the war with the Dutch. There was, if I +mistook not, a matter that touched the religion of the King. Monmouth, +whose wits were sharp enough, had gained scent of it; the wits went<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_195" id="Page_195">[Pg 195]</a></span> out +as the wine went in, and he blurted out what he suspected, robbing his +knowledge of all value by betraying its possession. Our best knowledge +lies in what we are not known to know.</p> + +<p>I repaired, thoughtful and disturbed, to my own small chamber, next the +Duke's; but the night was fine and I had no mind for sleep. I turned +back again and made my way on to the wall, where it faces towards the +sea. The wind was blowing fresh and the sound of the waves filled my +ears. No doubt the same sound hid the noise of my feet, for when I came +to the wall, I passed unheeded by three persons who stood in a group +together. I knew all and made haste to pass by; the man was the King +himself, the lady on his right was Mistress Barbara; in the third I +recognised Madame's lady, Louise de Quérouaille. I proceeded some +distance farther till I was at the end of the wall nearest the sea. +There I took my stand, looking not at the sea but covertly at the little +group. Presently two of them moved away; the third curtseyed low but did +not accompany them. When they were gone, she turned and leant on the +parapet of the wall with clasped hands. Drawn by some impulse, I moved +towards her. She was unconscious of my approach until I came quite near +to her; then she turned on me a face stained with tears and pale with +agitation and alarm. I stood before her, speechless, and she found no +words in which to address me. I was too proud to force my company<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_196" id="Page_196">[Pg 196]</a></span> on +her, and made as though to pass with a bow; but her face arrested me.</p> + +<p>"What ails you, Mistress Barbara?" I cried impetuously. She smoothed her +face to composure as she answered me:</p> + +<p>"Nothing, sir." Then she added carelessly, "Unless it be that sometimes +the King's conversation is too free for my liking."</p> + +<p>"When you want me, I'm here," I said, answering not her words but the +frightened look that there was in her eyes.</p> + +<p>For an instant I seemed to see in her an impulse to trust me and to lay +bare what troubled her. The feeling passed; her face regained its +natural hue, and she said petulantly,</p> + +<p>"Why, yes, it seems fated that you should always be there, Simon, yet +Betty Nasroth said nothing of it."</p> + +<p>"It may be well for you that I'm here," I answered hotly; for her scorn +stirred me to say what I should have left unsaid.</p> + +<p>I do not know how she would have answered, for at the moment we heard a +shout from the watchman who stood looking over the sea. He hailed a boat +that came prancing over the waves; a light answered his signal. Who came +to the Castle? Barbara's eyes and mine sought the ship; we did not know +the stranger, but he was expected; for a minute later Darrell ran +quickly by us with an eager look on his face; with him was the Count +d'Albon,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_197" id="Page_197">[Pg 197]</a></span> who had come with Madame, and Depuy, the Duke of York's +servant. They went by at the top of their speed and in visible +excitement. Barbara forgot her anger and haughtiness in fresh girlish +interest.</p> + +<p>"Who can it be?" she cried, coming so near to me that her sleeve touched +mine, and leaning over the wall towards where the ship's black hull was +to be seen far below in the moonlight by the jetty.</p> + +<p>"Doubtless it's the gentleman whom Madame expects," said I.</p> + +<p>Many minutes passed, but through them Barbara and I stood silent side by +side. Then the party came back through the gate, which had been opened +for them. Depuy walked first, carrying a small trunk; two or three +servants followed with more luggage; then came Darrell in company with a +short man who walked with a bold and confident air. The rest passed us, +and the last pair approached. Now Darrell saw Mistress Barbara and +doffed his hat to her. The new-comer did the like and more; he halted +immediately opposite to us and looked curiously at her, sparing a +curious glance for me. I bowed; she waited unmoved until the gentleman +said to Darrell,</p> + +<p>"Pray present me."</p> + +<p>"This, madame," said Darrell, in whose voice there was a ring of +excitement and tremulous agitation, "is M. de Perrencourt, who has the +honour of serving Her Royal Highness the Duchess. This lady, sir, is<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_198" id="Page_198">[Pg 198]</a></span> +Mistress Barbara Quinton, maid of honour to the Duchess of York, and now +in attendance on Madame."</p> + +<p>Barbara made a curtsey, M. de Perrencourt bowed. His eyes were fixed on +her face; he studied her openly and fearlessly, yet the regard was +difficult to resent, it was so calm, assured, and dignified. It seemed +beyond challenge, if not beyond reproach. I stood by in silence, angry +at a scrutiny so prolonged, but without title to interfere.</p> + +<p>"I trust, madame, that we shall be better acquainted," he said at last, +and with a lingering look at her face passed on. I turned to her; she +was gazing after him with eager eyes. My presence seemed forgotten; I +would not remind her of it; I turned away in silence, and hastened after +Darrell and his companion. The curve of the wall hid them from my sight, +but I quickened my pace; I gained on them, for now I heard their steps +ahead; I ran round the next corner, for I was ablaze with curiosity to +see more of this man, who came at so strange an hour and yet was +expected, who bore himself so loftily, and yet was but a +gentleman-in-waiting as I was. Round the next corner I should come in +sight of him. Round I went, and I came plump into the arms of my good +friend Darrell, who stood there, squarely across the path!</p> + +<p>"Whither away, Simon?" said he coldly.</p> + +<p>I halted, stood still, looked him in the face. He met my gaze with a +calm, self-controlled smile.</p> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_199" id="Page_199">[Pg 199]</a></span></p> +<p>"Why," said I, "I'm on my way to bed, Darrell. Let me pass, I beg you."</p> + +<p>"A moment later will serve," said he.</p> + +<p>"Not a moment," I replied testily, and caught him by the arm. He was +stiff as a rock, but I put out my strength and in another instant should +have thrown him aside. But he cried in a loud angry voice,</p> + +<p>"By the King's orders, no man is to pass this way."</p> + +<p>Amazed, I fell back. But over his head, some twenty yards from us, I saw +two men embracing one another warmly. Nobody else was near; Darrell's +eyes were fixed on me, and his hand detained me in an eager grasp. But I +looked hard at the pair there ahead of me; there was a cloud over the +moon now, in a second it passed. The next moment the two had turned +their backs and were walking off together. Darrell, seeing my fixed +gaze, turned also. His face was pale, as if with excitement, but he +spoke in cool, level tones.</p> + +<p>"It's only M. Colbert greeting M. de Perrencourt," said he.</p> + +<p>"Ah, of course!" I cried, turning to him with a smile. "But where did M. +Colbert get that Star?" For the glitter of the decoration had caught my +eye, as it sparkled in the moonlight.</p> + +<p>There was a pause before Darrell answered. Then he said,</p> + +<p>"The King gave him his own Star to-night, in compliment to Madame."</p> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_200" id="Page_200">[Pg 200]</a></span></p> +<p>And in truth M. Colbert wore that Star when he walked abroad next +morning, and professed much gratitude for it to the King. I have +wondered since whether he should not have thanked a humbler man. Had I +not seen the Star on the breast of the gentleman who embraced M. de +Perrencourt, should I have seen it on the breast of M. Colbert de +Croissy? In truth I doubt it.</p> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_201" id="Page_201">[Pg 201]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XII" id="CHAPTER_XII"></a>CHAPTER XII</h2> + +<h3>THE DEFERENCE OF HIS GRACE THE DUKE</h3> + + +<p>Certainly he had some strange ways, this M. de Perrencourt. It was not +enough for him to arrive by night, nor to have his meeting with M. +Colbert (whose Star Darrell made me observe most particularly next +morning) guarded from intruding eyes by the King's own order. He shewed +a predilection for darkness and was visible in the daytime only in +Madame's apartment, or when she went to visit the King. The other French +gentlemen and ladies manifested much curiosity concerning the town and +the neighbourhood, and with Madame and the Duke of Monmouth at their +head took part in many pleasant excursions. In a day or two the Queen +also and the Duchess of York came from London, and the doings grew more +gay and merry. But M. de Perrencourt was not to be tempted; no pastimes, +no jaunts allured him; he did not put his foot outside the walls of the +Castle, and was little seen inside it. I myself did not set eyes on him +for two days after my first sight of him; but after that I beheld him +fairly often, and the more I saw him the more I wondered.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_202" id="Page_202">[Pg 202]</a></span> Of a truth +his retiring behaviour was dictated by no want of assurance nor by undue +modesty; he was not abashed in the presence of the great and bore +himself as composedly before the King as in the presence of a lackey. It +was plain, too, that he enjoyed Madame's confidence in no common degree, +for when affairs of State were discussed and all withdrew saving Madame, +her brothers and the Secretary (even the Duke of Monmouth not being +admitted), the last we saw as we made our bows and backed out of the +doorway would be M. de Perrencourt standing in an easy and unconstrained +attitude behind Madame's chair and manifesting no overpowering sense of +the signal honour paid to him by the permission to remain. As may be +supposed, a theory sprang up to account for the curious regard this +gentleman commanded; it was put about (some said that Lord Arlington +himself gave his authority for the report) that M. de Perrencourt was +legal guardian to his cousin Mlle. de Quérouaille, and that the King had +discovered special reasons for conciliating the gentleman by every +means, and took as much pains to please him as to gain favour with the +lady herself. Here was a good reason for M. de Perrencourt's +distinguished treatment, and no less for the composure and calm with +which M. de Perrencourt accepted it. To my mind, however, the manner of +M. de Perrencourt's arrival and the incident of M. Colbert's Star found +scarcely a sufficient explanation in this ingenious conjecture; yet the +story, thus circulated,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_203" id="Page_203">[Pg 203]</a></span> was generally accepted and served its office of +satisfying curiosity and blunting question well enough.</p> + +<p>Again (for my curiosity would not be satisfied, nor the edge of my +questioning be turned)—what had the Duke of Monmouth to gain from M. de +Perrencourt? Something it seemed, or his conduct was most mysterious. He +cared nothing for Mlle. de Quérouaille, and I could not suppose that the +mere desire to please his father would have weighed with him so strongly +as to make him to all appearance the humble servant of this French +gentleman. The thing was brought home most forcibly to my mind on the +third evening after M. de Perrencourt's arrival. A private conference +was held and lasted some hours; outside the closed doors we all paced to +and fro, hearing nothing save now and then Madame's clear voice, raised, +as it seemed, in exhortation or persuasion. The Duke, who was glad +enough to escape the tedium of State affairs but at the same time +visibly annoyed at his exclusion, sauntered listlessly up and down, +speaking to nobody. Perceiving that he did not desire my company, I +withdrew to a distance, and, having seated myself in a retired corner, +was soon lost in consideration of my own fortunes past and to come. The +hour grew late; the gentlemen and ladies of the Court, having offered +and accepted compliments and gallantries till invention and complaisance +alike were exhausted, dropped off one by one, in search of supper, +wine,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_204" id="Page_204">[Pg 204]</a></span> or rest. I sat on in my corner. Nothing was to be heard save the +occasional voices of the two musketeers on guard on the steps leading +from the second storey of the keep to the State apartments. I knew that +I must move soon, for at night the gate on the stairs was shut. It was +another of the peculiar facts about M. de Perrencourt that he alone of +the gentlemen-in-waiting had been lodged within the precincts of the +royal quarters, occupying an apartment next to the Duke of York, who had +his sister Madame for his neighbour on the other side. The prolonged +conference was taking place in the King's cabinet farther along the +passage.</p> + +<p>Suddenly I heard steps on the stairs, the word of the night was asked, +and Monmouth's voice made answer "Saint Denis"; for just now everything +was French in compliment to Madame. The steps continued to ascend; the +light in the corridor was very dim, but a moment later I perceived +Monmouth and Carford. Carford's arm was through his Grace's, and he +seemed to be endeavouring to restrain him. Monmouth shook him off with a +laugh and an oath.</p> + +<p>"I'm not going to listen," he cried. "Why should I listen? Do I want to +hear the King praying to the Virgin?"</p> + +<p>"Silence, for God's sake, silence, your Grace," implored Carford.</p> + +<p>"That's what he does, isn't it? He, and the Queen's Chaplain, and +the——"</p> + +<p>"Pray, sir!"</p> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_205" id="Page_205">[Pg 205]</a></span></p> +<p>"And our good M. de Perrencourt, then?" He burst into a bitter laugh as +he mentioned the gentleman's name.</p> + +<p>I had heard more than was meant for my ears, and what was enough (if I +may use a distinction drawn by my old friend the Vicar) for my +understanding. I was in doubt whether to declare my presence or not. Had +Monmouth been alone, I would have shown myself directly, but I did not +wish Carford to be aware that I had overheard so much. I sat still a +moment longer in hesitation; then I uttered a loud yawn, groaned, +stretched myself, rose to my feet, and gave a sudden and very obvious +start, as I let my eyes fall on the Duke.</p> + +<p>"Why, Simon," he cried, "what brings you here?"</p> + +<p>"I thought your Grace was in the King's cabinet," I answered.</p> + +<p>"But you knew that I left them some hours since."</p> + +<p>"Yes, but having lost sight of your Grace, I supposed that you'd +returned, and while waiting for you I fell asleep."</p> + +<p>My explanation abundantly satisfied the Duke; Carford maintained a wary +silence.</p> + +<p>"We're after other game than conferences to-night," said Monmouth, +laughing again. "Go down to the hall and wait there for me, Simon. My +lord and I are going to pay a visit to the ladies of Madame and the +Duchess of York."</p> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_206" id="Page_206">[Pg 206]</a></span></p> +<p>I saw that he was merry with wine; Carford had been drinking too, but he +grew only more glum and malicious with his liquor. Neither their state +nor the hour seemed fitted for the visit the Duke spoke of, but I was +helpless, and with a bow took my way down the stairs to the hall below, +where I sat down on the steps that led up to one of the loop-holes. A +great chair, standing by the wall, served to hide me from observation. +For a few moments nothing occurred. Then I heard a loud burst of +laughter from above. Feet came running down the steps into the hall, and +a girl in a white dress darted across the floor. I heard her laugh, and +knew that she was Barbara Quinton. An instant later came Monmouth hot on +her heels, and imploring her in extravagant words not to be so cruel and +heartless as to fly from him. But where was Carford? I could only +suppose that my lord had the discretion to stay behind when the Duke of +Monmouth desired to speak with the lady whom my lord sought for his +wife.</p> + +<p>In my humble judgment, a very fine, large, and subtle volume might be +composed on the canons of eavesdropping—when a man may listen, when he +may not, and for how long he may, to what end, for what motives, in what +causes, and on what provocations. It may be that the Roman Divines, who, +as I understand, are greatly adept in the science of casuistry, have +accomplished already the task I indicate. I know not; at least I have +nowhere encountered the result of their labours. But now I<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_207" id="Page_207">[Pg 207]</a></span> sat still +behind the great chair and listened without doubt or hesitation. Yet how +long I could have controlled myself I know not, for his Grace made light +of scruples that night and set bounds at nought. At first Mistress +Barbara was merry with him, fencing and parrying, in confidence that he +would use no roughness nor an undue vehemence. But on he went; and +presently a note of alarm sounded in her voice as she prayed him to +suffer her to depart and return to the Duchess, who must have need of +her.</p> + +<p>"Nay, I won't let you go, sweet mistress. Rather, I can't let you go."</p> + +<p>"Indeed, sir, I must go," she said. "Come, I will call my Lord Carford, +to aid me in persuading your Grace."</p> + +<p>He laughed at the suggestion that a call for Carford would hinder him.</p> + +<p>"He won't come," he said; "and if he came, he would be my ally, not +yours."</p> + +<p>She answered now haughtily and coldly:</p> + +<p>"Sir, Lord Carford is a suitor for my hand. It is in your Grace's +knowledge that he is."</p> + +<p>"But he thinks a hand none the worse because I've kissed it," retorted +Monmouth. "You don't know how amiable a husband you're to have, Mistress +Barbara."</p> + +<p>I was on my feet now, and, peering round the chair which hid me from +them, I could see her standing against the wall, with Monmouth opposite +to her. He offered to seize her hand, but she drew it away<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_208" id="Page_208">[Pg 208]</a></span> sharply. +With a laugh he stepped nearer to her. A slight sound caught my ear, +and, turning my head, I saw Carford on the lowest step of the stairs; he +was looking at the pair, and a moment later stepped backwards, till he +was almost hidden from my sight, though I could still make out the shape +of his figure. A cry of triumph from Monmouth echoed low but intense +through the hall; he had caught the elusive hand and was kissing it +passionately. Barbara stood still and stiff. The Duke, keeping her hand +still in his, said mockingly:</p> + +<p>"You pretty fool, would you refuse fortune? Hark, madame, I am a King's +son."</p> + +<p>I saw no movement in her, but the light was dim. He went on, lowering +his voice a little, yet not much.</p> + +<p>"And I may be a King; stranger things have come to pass. Wouldn't you +like to be a Queen?" He laughed as he put the question; he lacked the +care or the cunning to make even a show of honesty.</p> + +<p>"Let me go," I heard her whisper in a strained, timid voice.</p> + +<p>"Well, for to-night you shall go, sweetheart, but not without a kiss, I +swear."</p> + +<p>She was frightened now and sought to propitiate him, saying gently and +with attempted lightness,</p> + +<p>"Your Grace has my hand prisoner. You can work your will on it."</p> + +<p>"Your hand! I mean your lips this time," he cried in audacious +insolence. He came nearer to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_209" id="Page_209">[Pg 209]</a></span> her, his arm crept round her waist. I had +endured what I could, yes, and as long as I could; for I was persuaded +that I could serve her better by leaving her unaided for the moment. But +my limit was reached; I stepped out from behind the chair. But in an +instant I was back again. Monmouth had paused; in one hand he held +Barbara's hand, the other rested on her girdle, but he turned his head +and looked at the stairs. Voices had come from there; he had heard them +as I had, as Barbara had.</p> + +<p>"You can't pass out," had come in a blustering tone from Carford.</p> + +<p>"Stand aside, sir," was the answer in a calm, imperative voice.</p> + +<p>Carford hesitated for a single instant, then he seemed to shrink away, +making himself small and leaving free passage for a man who came down +the steps and walked confidently and briskly across the hall towards +where the Duke stood with Barbara.</p> + +<p>Above us, at the top of the stairs, there were the sound of voices and +the tread of feet. The conference was broken up and the parties to it +were talking in the passage on their way to regain their own apartments. +I paid no heed to them; my eyes were fixed on the intruder who came so +boldly and unabashed up to the Duke. I knew him now; he was M. de +Perrencourt, Madame's gentleman.</p> + +<p>Without wavering or pausing, straight he walked. Monmouth seemed turned +to stone; I could see his<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_210" id="Page_210">[Pg 210]</a></span> face set and rigid, although light failed me +to catch that look in the eyes by which you may best know a man's mood. +Not a sound or a motion came from Carford. Barbara herself was stiff and +still, her regard bent on M. de Perrencourt. He stood now directly over +against her and Monmouth; it seemed long before he spoke. Indeed, I had +looked for Monmouth's voice first, for an oath of vexation at the +interruption, for a curse on the intruder and a haughty order to him to +be gone and not interfere with what concerned his betters. No such word, +nor any words, issued from the mouth of the Duke. And still M. de +Perrencourt was silent. Carford stole covertly from the steps nearer to +the group until, gliding across the hall, he was almost at the +Frenchman's elbow. Still M. de Perrencourt was silent.</p> + +<p>Slowly and reluctantly, as though in deference to an order that he +loathed but dared not disobey, Monmouth drew his arm away; he loosed +Barbara's hand, she drew back, leaning against the wall; the Duke stood +with his arms by his side, looking at the man who interrupted his sport +and seemed to have power to control his will. Then, at last, in crisp, +curt, ungracious tones, M. de Perrencourt spoke.</p> + +<p>"I thank you, Monsieur le Duc," said he. "I was sure that you would +perceive your error soon. This is not the lady you supposed, this is +Mistress Quinton. I desire to speak with her, pray give me leave."</p> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_211" id="Page_211">[Pg 211]</a></span></p> +<p>The King would not have spoken in this style to his pampered son, and +the Duke of York himself dared not have done it. But no touch of +uneasiness or self-distrust appeared in M. de Perrencourt's smooth +cutting speech. Truly he was high in Madame's confidence, and, likely +enough, a great man in his own country; but, on my life, I looked to see +the hot-tempered Duke strike him across the face. Even I, who had been +about to interfere myself, by some odd momentary turn of feeling +resented the insolence with which Monmouth was assailed. Would he not +resent it much more for himself? No. For an instant I heard his quick +breathing, the breathing of a man who fights anger, holding it under +with great labour and struggling. Then he spoke; in his voice also there +was passion hard held.</p> + +<p>"Here, sir, and everywhere," he said, "you have only to command to be +obeyed." Slowly he bent his head low, the gesture matching the humility +of his words, while it emphasised their unwillingness.</p> + +<p>The strange submission won no praise. M. de Perrencourt did not accord +the speech so much courtesy as lay in an answer. His silent slight bow +was all his acknowledgment; he stood there waiting for his command to be +obeyed.</p> + +<p>Monmouth turned once towards Barbara, but his eyes came back to M. de +Perrencourt. Carford advanced to him and offered his arm. The Duke<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_212" id="Page_212">[Pg 212]</a></span> laid +his hand on his friend's shoulder. For a moment they stood still thus, +then both bowed low to M. de Perrencourt, who answered with another of +his slight inclinations of the head. They turned and walked out of the +hall, the Duke seeming almost to stagger and to lean on Carford, as +though to steady his steps. As they went they passed within two yards of +me, and I saw Monmouth's face pale with rage. With a long indrawing of +my breath I drew back into the shadow of my shelter. They passed, the +hall was empty save for myself and the two who stood there by the wall.</p> + +<p>I had no thought now of justifying my part of eavesdropper. Scruples +were drowned in excitement; keen interest bound me to my place with +chains of iron. My brain was full of previous suspicion thrice +magnified; all that was mysterious in this man came back to me; the +message I had surprised at Canterbury ran echoing through my head again +and again. Yet I bent myself to the task of listening, resolute to catch +every word. Alas, my efforts were in vain! M. de Perrencourt was of +different clay from his Grace the Duke. He was indeed speaking now, but +so low and warily that no more than a gentle murmur reached my ears. Nor +did his gestures aid; they were as far from Monmouth's jovial violence +as his tones from the Duke's reckless exclaiming. He was urgent but +courteous, most insistent yet most deferential. Monmouth claimed and +challenged, M. de Perrencourt seemed<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_213" id="Page_213">[Pg 213]</a></span> to beseech and woo. Yet he asked +as though none could refuse, and his prayer presumed a favourable +answer. Barbara listened in quiet; I could not tell whether fear alone +bound her, or whether the soft courtly voice bred fascination also. I +was half-mad that I could not hear, and had much ado not to rush out, +unprovoked, and defy the man before whom my master had bowed almost to +the ground, beaten and dismayed.</p> + +<p>At last she spoke a few hurried imploring words.</p> + +<p>"No, no," she panted. "No; pray leave me. No."</p> + +<p>M. de Perrencourt answered gently and beseechingly,</p> + +<p>"Nay, say 'Not yet,' madame."</p> + +<p>They were silent again, he seeming to regard her intently. Suddenly she +covered her face with her hands; yet, dropping her hands almost +immediately, she set her eyes on his; I saw him shake his head.</p> + +<p>"For to-night, then, good-night, fairest lady," said he. He took her +hand and kissed it lightly, bowing very low and respectfully, she +looking down at him as he stooped. Then he drew away from her, bowing +again and repeating again,</p> + +<p>"For to-night, good-night."</p> + +<p>With this he turned towards the stairs, crossing the hall with the same +brisk, confident tread that had marked his entry. He left her, but it +looked as though she were indulged, not he defeated. At the lowest step +he paused, turned, bowed low again.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_214" id="Page_214">[Pg 214]</a></span> This time she answered with a deep +and sweeping curtsey. Then he was gone, and she was leaning by the wall +again, her face buried in her hands. I heard her sob, and her broken +words reached me:</p> + +<p>"What shall I do? Oh, what shall I do?"</p> + +<p>At once I stepped out from the hiding-place that had shown me such +strange things, and, crossing to her, hat in hand, answered her sad +desolate question.</p> + +<p>"Why, trust in your friends, Mistress Barbara," said I cheerily. "What +else can any lady do?"</p> + +<p>"Simon!" she cried eagerly, and as I thought gladly; for her hand flew +out to mine. "You, here?"</p> + +<p>"And at your service always," said I.</p> + +<p>"But have you been here? Where did you come from?"</p> + +<p>"Why, from across the hall, behind the chair there," I answered. "I've +been there a long while back. His Grace told me to wait in the hall, and +in the hall I waited, though the Duke, having other things to think of, +forgot both his order and his servant."</p> + +<p>"Then you heard?" she asked in a whisper.</p> + +<p>"All, I think, that the Duke said. Lord Carford said nothing. I was +about to interrupt his Grace when the task was better performed for me. +I think, madame, you owe some thanks to M. de Perrencourt."</p> + +<p>"You heard what he said?"</p> + +<p>"The last few words only," I answered regretfully.</p> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_215" id="Page_215">[Pg 215]</a></span></p> +<p>She looked at me for an instant, and then said with a dreary little +smile,</p> + +<p>"I'm to be grateful to M. de Perrencourt?"</p> + +<p>"I know no other man who could or would have rid you of the Duke so +finely. Besides, he appeared to treat you with much courtesy."</p> + +<p>"Courtesy, yes!" she cried, but seemed to check herself. She was still +in great agitation, and a moment later she covered her face and I heard +her sob again.</p> + +<p>"Come, take heart," said I. "The Duke's a great man, of course; but no +harm shall come to you, Mistress Barbara. Your father bade me have my +services in readiness for you, and although I didn't need his order as a +spur, I may pray leave to use it as an excuse for thrusting myself on +you."</p> + +<p>"Indeed I—I'm glad to see you, Simon. But what shall I do? Ah, Heaven, +why did I ever come to this place?"</p> + +<p>"That can be mended by leaving it, madame."</p> + +<p>"But how? How can I leave it?" she asked despairingly.</p> + +<p>"The Duchess will grant you leave."</p> + +<p>"Without the King's consent?"</p> + +<p>"But won't the King consent? Madame will ask for you; she's kind."</p> + +<p>"Madame won't ask for me; nobody will ask for me."</p> + +<p>"Then if leave be impossible, we must go without leave, if you speak the +word."</p> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_216" id="Page_216">[Pg 216]</a></span></p> +<p>"Ah, you don't know," she said sadly. Then she caught my hand again and +whispered hurriedly and fearfully: "I'm afraid, Simon. I—I fear him. +What can I do? How can I resist? They can do what they will with me, +what can I do? If I weep, they laugh; if I try to laugh, they take it +for consent. What can I do?"</p> + +<p>There is nothing that so binds a man to a woman as to feel her hand +seeking his in weakness and appeal. I had thought that one day so +Barbara's might seek mine and I should exult in it, nay, might even let +her perceive my triumph. The thing I had dreamed of was come, but where +was my exultation? There was a choking in my throat and I swallowed +twice before I contrived to answer:</p> + +<p>"What can we do, you mean, Mistress Barbara."</p> + +<p>"Alas, alas," she cried, between tears and laughter, "what can we—even +we—do, Simon?"</p> + +<p>I noticed that she called me Simon, as in the old days before my +apostacy and great offence. I was glad of it, for if I was to be of +service to her we must be friends. Suddenly she said,</p> + +<p>"You know what it means—I can't tell you; you know?"</p> + +<p>"Aye, I know," said I, "none better. But the Duke shan't have his way."</p> + +<p>"The Duke? If it were only the Duke—Ah!" She stopped, a new alarm in +her eyes. She searched my face eagerly. Of deliberate purpose I set it +to an immutable stolidity.</p> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_217" id="Page_217">[Pg 217]</a></span></p> +<p>"Already he's very docile," said I. "See how M. de Perrencourt turned +and twisted him, and sent him off crestfallen."</p> + +<p>She laid her hand on my arm.</p> + +<p>"If I might tell you," she said, "a thing that few know here; none but +the King and his near kindred and one or two more."</p> + +<p>"But how came you to know of it?" I interrupted.</p> + +<p>"I—I also came to know it," she murmured.</p> + +<p>"There are many ways of coming to know a thing," said I. "One is by +being told; another, madame, is by finding out. Certainly it was amazing +how M. de Perrencourt dealt with his Grace; ay, and with my Lord +Carford, who shrank out of his path as though he had been—a King." I +let my tones give the last word full effect.</p> + +<p>"Simon," she whispered in eagerness mingled with alarm, "Simon, what are +you saying? Silence for your life!"</p> + +<p>"My life, madame, is rooted too deep for a syllable to tear it up. I +said only 'as though he had been a king.' Tell me why M. Colbert wears +the King's Star. Was it because somebody saw a gentleman wearing the +King's Star embrace and kiss M. de Perrencourt the night that he +arrived?"</p> + +<p>"It was you?"</p> + +<p>"It was I, madame. Tell me on whose account three messengers went to +London, carrying the words '<i>Il vient</i>.'"</p> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_218" id="Page_218">[Pg 218]</a></span></p> +<p>She was hanging to my arm now, full of eagerness.</p> + +<p>"And tell me now what M. de Perrencourt said to you. A plague on him, he +spoke so low that I couldn't hear!"</p> + +<p>A blush swept over her face; her eyes, losing the fire of excitement, +dropped in confusion to the ground.</p> + +<p>"I can't tell you," she murmured.</p> + +<p>"Yet I know," said I. "And if you'll trust me, madame——"</p> + +<p>"Ah, Simon, you know I trust you."</p> + +<p>"Yet you were angry with me."</p> + +<p>"Not angry—I had no right—I mean I had no cause to be angry. I—I was +grieved."</p> + +<p>"You need be grieved no longer, madame."</p> + +<p>"Poor Simon!" said she very gently. I felt the lightest pressure on my +hand, the touch of two slim fingers, speaking of sympathy and +comradeship.</p> + +<p>"By God, I'll bring you safe out of it," I cried.</p> + +<p>"But how, how? Simon, I fear that he has——"</p> + +<p>"The Duke?"</p> + +<p>"No, the—the other—M. de Perrencourt; he has set his heart on—on what +he told me."</p> + +<p>"A man may set his heart on a thing and yet not win it," said I grimly.</p> + +<p>"Yes, a man—yes, Simon, I know; a man may——"</p> + +<p>"Ay, and even a——"</p> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_219" id="Page_219">[Pg 219]</a></span></p> +<p>"Hush, hush! If you were overheard—your life wouldn't be safe if you +were overheard."</p> + +<p>"What do I care?"</p> + +<p>"But I care!" she cried, and added very hastily, "I'm selfish. I care, +because I want your help."</p> + +<p>"You shall have it. Against the Duke of Monmouth, and against the——"</p> + +<p>"Ah, be careful!"</p> + +<p>I would not be careful. My blood was up. My voice was loud and bold as I +gave to M. de Perrencourt the name that was his, the name by which the +frightened lord and the cowed Duke knew him, the name that gave him +entrance to those inmost secret conferences, and yet kept him himself +hidden and half a prisoner in the Castle. The secret was no secret to me +now.</p> + +<p>"Against the Duke of Monmouth," said I sturdily, "and also, if need be, +against the King of France."</p> + +<p>Barbara caught at my arm in alarm. I laughed, till I saw her finger +point warily over my shoulder. With a start I turned and saw a man +coming down the steps. In the dim light the bright Star gleamed on his +breast. He was M. Colbert de Croissy. He stood on the lowest step, +peering at us through the gloom.</p> + +<p>"Who speaks of the King of France here?" he said suspiciously.</p> + +<p>"I, Simon Dale, gentleman-in-waiting to the Duke of Monmouth, at your +Excellency's service,"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_220" id="Page_220">[Pg 220]</a></span> I answered, advancing towards him and making my +bow.</p> + +<p>"What have you to say of my master?" he demanded.</p> + +<p>For a moment I was at a loss; for although my heart was full of things +that I should have taken much pleasure in saying concerning His Majesty, +they were none of them acceptable to the ears of His Majesty's Envoy. I +stood, looking at Colbert, and my eyes fell on the Star that he wore. I +knew that I committed an imprudence, but for the life of me I could not +withstand the temptation. I made another bow, and, smiling easily, +answered M. Colbert.</p> + +<p>"I was remarking, sir," said I, "that the compliment paid to you by the +King of England in bestowing on you the Star from His Majesty's own +breast, could not fail to cause much gratification to the King of +France."</p> + +<p>He looked me hard in the eyes, but his eyes fell to the ground before +mine. I warrant he took nothing by his searching glance, and did well to +give up the conflict. Without a word, and with a stiff little bow, he +passed on his way to the hall. The moment he was gone, Barbara was by +me. Her face was alight with merriment.</p> + +<p>"Oh, Simon, Simon!" she whispered reprovingly. "But I love you for it!" +And she was gone up the stairs like a flitting moonbeam.</p> + +<p>Upon this, having my head full and to spare of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_221" id="Page_221">[Pg 221]</a></span> many matters, and my +heart beating quick with more than one emotion, I thought my bed the +best and safest place for me, and repaired to it without delay.</p> + +<p>"But I'll have some conversation with M. de Perrencourt to-morrow," said +I, as I turned on my pillow and sought to sleep.</p> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_222" id="Page_222">[Pg 222]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XIII" id="CHAPTER_XIII"></a>CHAPTER XIII</h2> + +<h3>THE MEED OF CURIOSITY</h3> + + +<p>The next morning my exaltation had gone. I woke a prey to despondency +and sickness of soul. Not only did difficulty loom large, and failure +seem inevitable, but a disgust for all that surrounded me seized on my +mind, displacing the zest of adventure and the excitement of enterprise. +But let me not set my virtue too high. It is better to be plain. Old +maxims of morality, and a standard of right acknowledged by all but +observed by none, have little power over a young man's hot blood; to be +stirred to indignation, he must see the wrong threaten one he respects, +touch one he loves, or menace his own honour and pride. I had supported +the scandals of this Court, of which I made a humble part, with shrugs, +smiles, and acid jests; I had felt no dislike for the chief actors, and +no horror at the things they did or attempted; nay, for one of them, who +might seem to sum up in her own person the worst of all that was to be +urged against King and Court, I had cherished a desperate love that bred +even in death an obstinate and longing memory.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_223" id="Page_223">[Pg 223]</a></span> Now a change had come +over me; I seemed to see no longer through my own careless eyes, but +with the shamed and terrified vision of the girl who, cast into this +furnace, caught at my hand as offering her the sole chance to pass +unscathed through the fire. They were using her in their schemes, she +was to be sacrificed; first she had been chosen as the lure with which +to draw forth Monmouth's ambitions from their lair, and reveal them to +the spying eyes of York and his tool Carford; if that plan were changed +now, she would be no better for the change. The King would and could +refuse this M. de Perrencourt (I laughed bitterly as I muttered his +name) nothing, however great; without a thought he would fling the girl +to him, if the all-powerful finger were raised to ask for her. Charles +would think himself well paid by his brother king's complaisance towards +his own inclination. Doubtless there were great bargains of policy +a-making here in the Castle, and the nature of them I made shift to +guess. What was it to throw in a trifle on either side, barter Barbara +Quinton against the French lady, and content two Princes at a price so +low as the dishonour of two ladies? That was the game; otherwise, whence +came M. de Perrencourt's court and Monmouth's deference? The King saw +eye to eye with M. de Perrencourt, and the King's son did not venture to +thwart him. What matter that men spoke of other loves which the French +King had? The gallants of Paris might think us in England<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_224" id="Page_224">[Pg 224]</a></span> rude and +ignorant, but at least we had learnt that a large heart was a +prerogative of royalty which even the Parliament dared not question. +With a new loathing I loathed it all, for it seemed now to lay aside its +trappings of pomp and brilliancy, of jest and wit, and display itself +before me in ugly nakedness, all unashamed. In sudden frenzy I sat up in +my bed, crying, "Heaven will find a way!" For surely heaven could find +one, where the devil found so many! Ah, righteous wert thou, Simon Dale, +so soon as unrighteousness hurt thee! But Phineas Tate might have +preached until the end of time.</p> + +<p>Earlier than usual by an hour Jonah Wall came up from the town where he +was lodged, but he found me up and dressed, eager to act, ready for what +might chance. I had seen little of the fellow lately, calling on him for +necessary services only, and ridding myself of his sombre company as +quickly as I could. Yet I looked on him to-day with more consideration; +his was a repulsive form of righteousness, grim and gloomy, but it was +righteousness, or seemed such to me against the background of iniquity +which threw it up in strong relief. I spoke to him kindly, but taking no +heed of my advances he came straight up to me and said brusquely: "The +woman who came to your lodging in London is here in Dover. She bids you +be silent and come quickly. I can lead you."</p> + +<p>I started and stared at him. I had set "Finis"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_225" id="Page_225">[Pg 225]</a></span> to that chapter; was +fate minded to overrule me and write more? Strange also that Jonah Wall +should play Mercury!</p> + +<p>"She here in Dover? For what?" I asked as calmly as I could.</p> + +<p>"I don't doubt, for sin," he answered uncompromisingly.</p> + +<p>"Yet you can lead me to her house?" said I with a smile.</p> + +<p>"I can," said he, in sour disregard of my hinted banter.</p> + +<p>"I won't go," I declared.</p> + +<p>"The matter concerns you, she said, and might concern another."</p> + +<p>It was early, the Court would not be moving for two hours yet. I could +go and come, and thereby lose no opportunity. Curiosity led me on, and +with it the attraction which still draws us to those we have loved, +though the love be gone and more pain than pleasure wait on our +visiting. In ten minutes I was following Jonah down the cliff, and +plunged thence into a narrow street that ran curling and curving towards +the sea. Jonah held on quickly, and without hesitation, until we reached +a confined alley, and came to a halt before a mean house.</p> + +<p>"She's here," said Jonah, pointing to the door and twisting his face as +though he was swallowing something nauseous.</p> + +<p>I could not doubt of her presence, for I heard<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_226" id="Page_226">[Pg 226]</a></span> her voice singing gaily +from within. My heart beat quick, and I had above half a mind not to +enter. But she had seen us, and herself flung the door open wide. She +lodged on the ground floor; and, in obedience to her beckoning finger, I +entered a small room. Lodging was hard to be had in Dover now, and the +apartment served her (as the bed, carelessly covered with a curtain, +showed) for sleeping and living. I did not notice what became of Jonah, +but sat down, puzzled and awkward, in a crazy chair.</p> + +<p>"What brings you here?" I blurted out, fixing my eyes on her, as she +stood opposite to me, smiling and swaying to and fro a little, with her +hands on her hips.</p> + +<p>"Even what brings you. My business," she answered. "If you ask more, the +King's invitation. Does that grieve you, Simon?"</p> + +<p>"No, madame," said I.</p> + +<p>"A little, still a little, Simon? Be consoled! The King invited me, but +he hasn't come to see me. There lies my business. Why hasn't he come to +see me? I hear certain things, but my eyes, though they are counted good +if not large, can't pierce the walls of the Castle yonder, and my poor +feet aren't fit to pass its threshold."</p> + +<p>"You needn't grieve for that," said I sullenly.</p> + +<p>"Yet some things I know. As that a French lady is there. Of what +appearance is she, Simon?"</p> + +<p>"She is very pretty, so far as I've looked at her."</p> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_227" id="Page_227">[Pg 227]</a></span></p> +<p>"Ah, and you've a discriminating glance, haven't you? Will she stay +long?"</p> + +<p>"They say Madame will be here for ten or fourteen days yet."</p> + +<p>"And the French lady goes when Madame goes?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know as to that."</p> + +<p>"Why, nor I neither." She paused an instant. "You don't love Lord +Carford?" Her question came abruptly and unlooked for.</p> + +<p>"I don't know your meaning." What concern had Carford with the French +lady?</p> + +<p>"I think you are in the way to learn it. Love makes men quick, doesn't +it? Yes, since you ask (your eyes asked), why, I'll confess that I'm a +little sorry that you fall in love again. But that by the way. Simon, +neither do I love this French lady."</p> + +<p>Had it not been for that morning's mood of mine, she would have won on +me again, and all my resolutions gone for naught. But she, not knowing +the working of my mind, took no pains to hide or to soften what repelled +me in her. I had seen it before, and yet loved; to her it would seem +strange that because a man saw, he should not love. I found myself sorry +for her, with a new and pitiful grief, but passion did not rise in me. +And concerning my pity I held my tongue; she would have only wonder and +mockery for it. But I think she was vexed to see me so unmoved; it irks +a woman to lose a man, however little she may have prized him when he +was her own. Nor do I mean to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_228" id="Page_228">[Pg 228]</a></span> say that we are different from their sex +in that; it is, I take it, nature in woman and man alike.</p> + +<p>"At least we're friends, Simon," she said with a laugh. "And at least +we're Protestants." She laughed again. I looked up with a questioning +glance. "And at least we both hate the French," she continued.</p> + +<p>"It's true; I have no love for them. What then? What can we do?"</p> + +<p>She looked round cautiously, and, coming a little nearer to me, +whispered:</p> + +<p>"Late last night I had a visitor, one who doesn't love me greatly. What +does that matter? We row now in the same boat. I speak of the Duke of +Buckingham."</p> + +<p>"He is reconciled to my Lord Arlington by Madame's good offices," said +I. For so the story ran in the Castle.</p> + +<p>"Why, yes, he's reconciled to Arlington as the dog to the cat when their +master is by. Now there's a thing that the Duke suspects; and there's +another thing that he knows. He suspects that this treaty touches more +than war with the Dutch; though that I hate, for war swallows the King's +money like a well."</p> + +<p>"Some passes the mouth of the well, if report speaks true," I observed.</p> + +<p>"Peace, peace! Simon, the treaty touches more."</p> + +<p>"A man need not be Duke nor Minister to suspect that," said I.</p> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_229" id="Page_229">[Pg 229]</a></span></p> +<p>"Ah, you suspect? The King's religion?" she whispered.</p> + +<p>I nodded; the secret was no surprise to me, though I had not known +whether Buckingham were in it.</p> + +<p>"And what does the Duke of Buckingham know?" I asked.</p> + +<p>"Why, that the King sometimes listens to a woman's counsel," said she, +nodding her head and smiling very wisely.</p> + +<p>"Prodigious sagacity!" I cried. "You told him that, may be?"</p> + +<p>"Indeed, he had learnt it before my day, Master Simon. Therefore, should +the King turn Catholic, he will be a better Catholic for the society of +a Catholic lady. Now this Madame—how do you name her?"</p> + +<p>"Mlle. de Quérouaille?"</p> + +<p>"Aye. She is a most devout Catholic. Indeed, her devotion to her +religion knows no bounds. It's like mine to the King. Don't frown, +Simon. Loyalty is a virtue."</p> + +<p>"And piety also, by the same rule, and in the same unstinted measure?" I +asked bitterly.</p> + +<p>"Beyond doubt, sir. But the French King has sent word from Calais——"</p> + +<p>"Oh, from Calais! The Duke revealed that to you?" I asked with a smile I +could not smother. There was a limit then to the Duke's confidence in +his ally; for the Duke had been at Paris and could be no stranger to M. +de Perrencourt.</p> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_230" id="Page_230">[Pg 230]</a></span></p> +<p>"Yes, he told me all. The King of France has sent word from Calais, +where he awaits the signing of the treaty, that the loss of this Madame +Quérouaille would rob his Court of beauty, and he cannot be so bereft. +And Madame, the Duke says, swears she can't be robbed of her fairest +Maid of Honour ('tis a good name that, on my life) and left desolate. +But Madame has seen one who might make up the loss, and the King of +France, having studied the lady's picture, thinks the same. In fine, +Simon, our King feels that he can't be a good Catholic without the +counsels of Madame Quérouaille, and the French King feels that he must +by all means convert and save so fair a lady as—is the name on your +tongue, nay, is it in your heart, Simon?"</p> + +<p>"I know whom you mean," I answered, for her revelation came to no more +than what I had scented out for myself. "But what says Buckingham to +this?"</p> + +<p>"Why, that the King mustn't have his way lest he should thereby be +confirmed in his Popish inclinations. The Duke is Protestant, as you +are—and as I am, so please you."</p> + +<p>"Can he hinder it?"</p> + +<p>"Aye, if he can hinder the French King from having his way. And for this +purpose his Grace has need of certain things."</p> + +<p>"Do you carry a message from him to me?"</p> + +<p>"I did but say that I knew a gentleman who might supply his needs. They +are four; a heart, a head, a hand, and perhaps a sword."</p> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_231" id="Page_231">[Pg 231]</a></span></p> +<p>"All men have them, then."</p> + +<p>"The first true, the second long, the third strong, and the fourth +ready."</p> + +<p>"I fear then that I haven't all of them."</p> + +<p>"And for reward——"</p> + +<p>"I know. His life, if he can come off with it."</p> + +<p>Nell burst out laughing.</p> + +<p>"He didn't say that, but it may well reckon up to much that figure," she +admitted. "You'll think of it, Simon?"</p> + +<p>"Think of it? I! Not I!"</p> + +<p>"You won't?"</p> + +<p>"Or I mightn't attempt it."</p> + +<p>"Ah! You will attempt it?"</p> + +<p>"Of a certainty."</p> + +<p>"You're very ready. Is it all honesty?"</p> + +<p>"Is ever anything all honesty, madame—saving your devotion to the +King?"</p> + +<p>"And the French lady's to her religion?" laughed Nell. "On my soul, I +think the picture that the King of France saw was a fair one. Have you +looked on it, Simon?"</p> + +<p>"On my life I don't love her."</p> + +<p>"On my life you will."</p> + +<p>"You seek to stop me by that prophecy?"</p> + +<p>"I don't care whom you love," said she. Then her face broke into smiles. +"What liars women are!" she cried. "Yes, I do care; not enough to grow +wrinkled, but enough to wish I hadn't grown half a lady and could——"</p> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_232" id="Page_232">[Pg 232]</a></span></p> +<p>"You stop?"</p> + +<p>"Could—could—could slap your face, Simon."</p> + +<p>"It would be a light infliction after breaking a man's heart," said I, +turning my cheek to her and beckoning with my hand.</p> + +<p>"You should have a revenge on my face; not in kind, but in kindness. I +can't strike a man who won't hit back." She laughed at me with all her +old enticing gaiety.</p> + +<p>I had almost sealed the bargain; she was so roguish and so pretty. Had +we met first then, it is very likely she would have made the offer, and +very certain that I should have taken it. But there had been other days; +I sighed.</p> + +<p>"I loved you too well once to kiss you now, mistress," said I.</p> + +<p>"You're mighty strange at times, Simon," said she, sighing also, and +lifting her brows. "Now, I'd as lief kiss a man I had loved as any +other."</p> + +<p>"Or slap his face?"</p> + +<p>"If I'd never cared to kiss, I'd never care for the other either. You +rise?"</p> + +<p>"Why, yes. I have my commission, haven't I?"</p> + +<p>"I give you this one also, and yet you keep it?"</p> + +<p>"Is that slight not yet forgiven?"</p> + +<p>"All is forgiven and all is forgotten—nearly, Simon."</p> + +<p>At this instant—and since man is human, woman persistent, and courtesy +imperative, I did<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_233" id="Page_233">[Pg 233]</a></span> not quarrel with the interruption—a sound came from +the room above, strange in a house where Nell lived (if she will pardon +so much candour), but oddly familiar to me. I held up my hand and +listened. Nell's rippling laugh broke in.</p> + +<p>"Plague on him!" she cried. "Yes, he's here. Of a truth he's resolute to +convert me, and the fool amuses me."</p> + +<p>"Phineas Tate!" I exclaimed, amazed; for beyond doubt his was the voice. +I could tell his intonation of a penitential psalm among a thousand. I +had heard it in no other key.</p> + +<p>"You didn't know? Yet that other fool, your servant, is always with him. +They've been closeted together for two hours at a time."</p> + +<p>"Psalm-singing?"</p> + +<p>"Now and again. They're often quiet too."</p> + +<p>"He preaches to you?"</p> + +<p>"Only a little; when we chance to meet at the door he gives me a curse +and promises a blessing; no more."</p> + +<p>"It's very little to come to Dover for."</p> + +<p>"You would have come farther for less of my company once, sir."</p> + +<p>It was true, but it did not solve my wonder at the presence of Phineas +Tate. What brought the fellow? Had he too sniffed out something of what +was afoot and come to fight for his religion, even as Louise de +Quérouaille fought for hers, though in a most different fashion?</p> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_234" id="Page_234">[Pg 234]</a></span></p> +<p>I had reached the door of the room and was in the passage. Nell came to +the threshold and stood there smiling. I had asked no more questions and +made no conditions; I knew that Buckingham must not show himself in the +matter, and that all was left to me, heart, head, hand, sword, and also +that same reward, if I were so lucky as to come by it. I waited for a +moment, half expecting that Phineas, hearing my voice, would show +himself, but he did not appear. Nell waved her hand to me; I bowed and +took my leave, turning my steps back towards the Castle. The Court would +be awake, and whether on my own account or for my new commission's sake +I must be there.</p> + +<p>I had not mounted far before I heard a puffing and blowing behind. The +sound proved to come from Jonah Wall, who was toiling after me, laden +with a large basket. I had no eagerness for Jonah's society, but +rejoiced to see the basket; for my private store of food and wine had +run low, and if a man is to find out what he wants to know, it is well +for him to have a pasty and a bottle ready for those who can help him.</p> + +<p>"What have you there?" I called, waiting for him to overtake me.</p> + +<p>He explained that he had been making purchases in the town and I praised +his zeal. Then I asked him suddenly:</p> + +<p>"And have you visited your friend Mr Tate?"</p> + +<p>As I live, the fellow went suddenly pale, and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_235" id="Page_235">[Pg 235]</a></span> the bottles clinked in +his basket from the shaking of his hand. Yet I spoke mildly enough.</p> + +<p>"I—I have seen him but once or twice, sir, since I learnt that he was +in the town. I thought you did not wish me to see him."</p> + +<p>"Nay, you can see him as much as you like, as long as I don't," I +answered in a careless tone, but keeping an attentive eye on Jonah. His +perturbation seemed strange. If Phineas' business were only the +conversion of Mistress Gwyn, what reason had Jonah Wall to go white as +Dover cliffs over it?</p> + +<p>We came to the Castle and I dismissed him, bidding him stow his load +safely in my quarters. Then I repaired to the Duke of Monmouth's +apartments, wondering in what mood I should find him after last night's +rebuff. Little did he think that I had been a witness of it. I entered +his room; he was sitting in his chair, with him was Carford. The Duke's +face was as glum and his air as ill-tempered as I could wish. Carford's +manner was subdued, calm, and sympathetic. They were talking earnestly +as I entered but ceased their conversation at once. I offered my +services.</p> + +<p>"I have no need of you this morning, Simon," answered the Duke. "I'm +engaged with Lord Carford."</p> + +<p>I retired. But of a truth that morning every one in the Castle was +engaged with someone else. At every turn I came on couples in anxious +consultation.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_236" id="Page_236">[Pg 236]</a></span> The approach of an intruder brought immediate silence, +the barest civility delayed him, his departure was received gladly and +was signal for renewed consultation. Well, the King sets the mode, and +the King, I heard, was closeted with Madame and the Duke of York.</p> + +<p>But not with M. de Perrencourt. There was a hundred feet of the wall, +with a guard at one end and a guard at the other, and mid-way between +them a solitary figure stood looking down on Dover town and thence out +to sea. In an instant I recognised him, and a great desire came over me +to speak to him. He was the foremost man alive in that day, and I longed +to speak with him. To have known the great is to have tasted the true +flavour of your times. But how to pass the sentries? Their presence +meant that M. de Perrencourt desired privacy. I stepped up to one and +offered to pass. He barred the way.</p> + +<p>"But I'm in the service of his Grace the Duke of Monmouth," I +expostulated.</p> + +<p>"If you were in the service of the devil himself you couldn't pass here +without the King's order," retorted the fellow.</p> + +<p>"Won't his head serve as well as his order?" I asked, slipping a crown +into his hand. "Come, I've a message from his Grace for the French +gentleman. Yes, it's private. Deuce take it, do fathers always know of +their sons' doings?"</p> + +<p>"No, nor sons all their father's sometimes,"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_237" id="Page_237">[Pg 237]</a></span> he chuckled. "Along with +you quick, and run if you hear me whistle; it will mean my officer is +coming."</p> + +<p>I was alone in the sacred space with M. de Perrencourt. I assumed an +easy air and sauntered along, till I was within a few yards of him. +Hearing my step then, he looked round with a start and asked +peremptorily,</p> + +<p>"What's your desire, sir?"</p> + +<p>By an avowal of himself, even by quoting the King's order, he could +banish me. But if his cue were concealment and ignorance of the order, +why, I might indulge my curiosity.</p> + +<p>"Like your own, sir," I replied courteously, "a breath of fresh air and +a sight of the sea."</p> + +<p>He frowned a little, but I gave him no time to speak.</p> + +<p>"That fellow though," I pursued, "gave me to understand that none might +pass; yet the King is not here, is he?"</p> + +<p>"Then how did you pass, sir?" asked M. de Perrencourt, ignoring my last +question.</p> + +<p>"Why, with a lie, sir," I answered. "I said I had a message for you from +the Duke of Monmouth, and the fool believed me. But we gentlemen in +attendance must stand by one another. You'll not betray me? Your word on +it?"</p> + +<p>A slow smile broke across his face.</p> + +<p>"No, I'll not betray you," said he. "You speak French well, sir."</p> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_238" id="Page_238">[Pg 238]</a></span></p> +<p>"So M. de Fontelles, whom I met at Canterbury, told me. Do you chance to +know him, sir?"</p> + +<p>M. de Perrencourt did not start now; I should have been disappointed if +he had.</p> + +<p>"Very well," he answered. "If you're his friend, you're mine." He held +out his hand.</p> + +<p>"I take it on false pretences," said I with a laugh, as I shook it. "For +we came near to quarrelling, M. de Fontelles and I."</p> + +<p>"Ah, on what point?"</p> + +<p>"A nothing, sir."</p> + +<p>"Nay, but tell me."</p> + +<p>"Indeed I will not, if you'll pardon me."</p> + +<p>"Sir, I wish to know. I ins—I beg." A stare from me had stopped the +"insist" when it was half-way through his lips. On my soul, he flushed! +I tell my children sometimes how I made him flush; the thing was not +done often. Yet his confusion was but momentary, and suddenly, I know +not how, I in my turn became abashed with the cold stare of his eyes, +and when he asked me my name, I answered baldly, with never a bow and +never a flourish, "Simon Dale."</p> + +<p>"I have heard your name," said he gravely. Then he turned round and +began looking at the sea again.</p> + +<p>Now, had he been wearing his own clothes (if I may so say) this conduct +would have been appropriate enough; it would have been a dismissal and I +should have passed on my way. But a man should be consistent in his +disguises, and from<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_239" id="Page_239">[Pg 239]</a></span> M. de Perrencourt, gentleman-in-waiting, the +behaviour was mighty uncivil. Yet my revenge must be indirect.</p> + +<p>"Is it true, sir," I asked, coming close to him, "that the King of +France is yonder at Calais? So it's said."</p> + +<p>"I believe it to be true," answered M. de Perrencourt.</p> + +<p>"I wish he had come over," I cried. "I should love to see him, for they +say he's a very proper man, although he's somewhat short."</p> + +<p>M. de Perrencourt did not turn his head, but again I saw his cheek +flush. To speak of his low stature was, I had heard Monmouth say, to +commit the most dire offence in King Louis' eyes.</p> + +<p>"Now, how tall is the King, sir?" I asked. "Is he tall as you, sir?"</p> + +<p>M. de Perrencourt was still silent. To tell the truth, I began to be a +little uneasy; there were cells under the Castle, and I had need to be +at large for the coming few days.</p> + +<p>"For," said I, "they tell such lies concerning princes."</p> + +<p>Now he turned towards me, saying,</p> + +<p>"There you're right, sir. The King of France, is of middle size, about +my own height."</p> + +<p>For the life of me I could not resist it. I said nothing with my tongue, +but for a moment I allowed my eyes to say, "But then you're short, sir." +He understood, and for the third time he flushed.</p> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_240" id="Page_240">[Pg 240]</a></span></p> +<p>"I thought as much," said I, and with a bow I began to walk on.</p> + +<p>But, as ill-luck would have it, I was not to come clear off from my +indiscretion. In a moment I should have been out of sight. But as I +started I saw a gentleman pass the guard, who stood at the salute. It +was the King; escape was impossible. He walked straight up to me, bowing +carelessly in response to M. de Perrencourt's deferential inclination of +his person.</p> + +<p>"How come you here, Mr Dale?" he asked abruptly. "The guard tells me +that he informed you of my orders and that you insisted on passing."</p> + +<p>M. de Perrencourt felt that his turn was come; he stood there smiling. I +found nothing to say; if I repeated my fiction of a message, the French +gentleman, justly enraged, would betray me.</p> + +<p>"M. de Perrencourt seemed lonely, sir," I answered at last.</p> + +<p>"A little loneliness hurts no man," said the King. He took out his +tablets and began to write. When he was done, he gave me the message, +adding, "Read it." I read, "Mr Simon Dale will remain under arrest in +his own apartment for twenty-four hours, and will not leave it except by +the express command of the King." I made a wry face.</p> + +<p>"If the Duke of Monmouth wants me——" I began.</p> + +<p>"He'll have to do without you, Mr Dale," interrupted the King. "Come, M. +de Perrencourt, will<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_241" id="Page_241">[Pg 241]</a></span> you give me your arm?" And off he went on the +French gentleman's arm, leaving me most utterly abashed, and cursing the +curiosity that had brought me to this trouble.</p> + +<p>"So much for the Duke of Buckingham's 'long head,'" said I to myself +ruefully, as I made my way towards the Constable's Tower, in which his +Grace was lodged, and where I had my small quarters.</p> + +<p>Indeed, I might well feel a fool; for the next twenty-four hours, during +which I was to be a prisoner, would in all likelihood see the issue in +which I was pledged to bear a part. Now I could do nothing. Yet at least +I must send speedy word to the town that I was no longer to be looked to +for any help, and when I reached my room I called loudly for Jonah Wall. +It was but the middle of the day, yet he was not to be seen. I walked to +the door and found, not Jonah, but a guard on duty.</p> + +<p>"What are you doing here?"</p> + +<p>"Seeing that you stay here, sir," he answered, with a grin.</p> + +<p>Then the King was very anxious that I should obey his orders, and had +lost no time in ensuring my obedience; he was right to take his +measures, for, standing where I did, his orders would not have +restrained me. I was glad that he had set a guard on me in lieu of +asking my parole. For much as I love sin, I hate temptation. Yet where +was Jonah Wall, and how could I send my message? I<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_242" id="Page_242">[Pg 242]</a></span> flung myself on the +bed in deep despondency. A moment later the door opened, and Robert, +Darrell's servant, entered.</p> + +<p>"My master begs to know if you will sup with him to-night, sir."</p> + +<p>"Thank him kindly," said I; "but if you ask that gentleman outside, +Robert, he'll tell you that I must sup at home by the King's desire. I'm +under arrest, Robert."</p> + +<p>"My master will be grieved to hear it, sir, and the more because he +hoped that you would bring some wine with you, for he has none, and he +has guests to sup with him."</p> + +<p>"Ah, an interested invitation! How did Mr Darrell know that I had wine?"</p> + +<p>"Your servant Jonah spoke of it to me, sir, and said that you would be +glad to send my master some."</p> + +<p>"Jonah is liberal! But I'm glad, and assure Mr Darrell of it. Where is +my rascal?"</p> + +<p>"I saw him leave the Castle about an hour ago; just after he spoke to me +about the wine."</p> + +<p>"Curse him! I wanted him. Well, take the wine. There are six bottles +that he got to-day."</p> + +<p>"There is French wine here, sir, and Spanish. May I take either?"</p> + +<p>"Take the French in God's name. I don't want that. I've had enough of +France. Stay, though, I believe Mr Darrell likes the Spanish better."</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir; but his guests will like the French."</p> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_243" id="Page_243">[Pg 243]</a></span></p> +<p>"And who are these guests?"</p> + +<p>Robert swelled with pride.</p> + +<p>"I thought Jonah would have told you, sir," said he. "The King is to sup +with my master."</p> + +<p>"Then," said I, "I'm well excused. For no man knows better than the King +why I can't come."</p> + +<p>The fellow took his bottles and went off grinning. I, being left, fell +again to cursing myself for a fool, and in this occupation I passed the +hours of the afternoon.</p> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_244" id="Page_244">[Pg 244]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XIV" id="CHAPTER_XIV"></a>CHAPTER XIV</h2> + +<h3>THE KING'S CUP</h3> + + +<p>At least the Vicar would be pleased! A whimsical joy in the anticipation +of his delight shot across my gloomy meditations as the sunset rays +threaded their way through the narrow window of the chamber that was my +cell. The thought of him stayed with me, amusing my idleness and +entertaining my fancy. I could imagine his wise, contented nod, far from +surprise as the poles are apart, full of self-approval as an egg of +meat. For his vision had been clear, in him faith had never wavered. Of +a truth, the prophecy which old Betty Nasroth spoke (foolishness though +it were) was, through Fortune's freak, two parts fulfilled. What +remained might rest unjustified to my great content; small comfort had I +won from so much as had come to pass. I had loved where the King loved, +and my youth, though it raised its head again, still reeled under the +blow; I knew what the King hid—aye, it might be more than one thing +that he hid; my knowledge landed me where I lay now, in close +confinement with a gaoler at my door. For my own<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_245" id="Page_245">[Pg 245]</a></span> choice, I would crave +the Vicar's pardon, would compound with destiny, and, taking the +proportion of fate's gifts already dealt to me in lieu of all, would go +in peace to humbler doings, beneath the dignity of dark prophecy, but +more fit to give a man quiet days and comfort in his life. Indeed, as my +lord Quinton had said long ago, there was strange wine in the King's +cup, and I had no desire to drink of it. Yet who would not have been +moved by the strange working of events which made the old woman's +prophecy seem the true reading of a future beyond guess or reasonable +forecast? I jeered and snarled at myself, at Betty, at her prophecy, at +the Vicar's credulity. But the notion would not be expelled; two parts +stood accomplished, but the third remained. "Glamis thou art, and +Cawdor, and shalt be what thou art promised!"—I forget how it runs on, +for it is long since I saw the play, though I make bold to think that it +is well enough written. Alas, no good came of listening to witches +there, if my memory holds the story of the piece rightly.</p> + +<p>There is little profit, and less entertainment, in the record of my +angry desponding thoughts. Now I lay like a log, again I ranged the cell +as a beast his cage. I cared not a stiver for Buckingham's schemes, I +paid small heed to Nell's jealousy. It was nought to me who should be +the King's next favourite, and although I, with all other honest men, +hated a Popish King, the fear of him would not have kept me from my +sleep or from my supper. Who eats his dinner the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_246" id="Page_246">[Pg 246]</a></span> less though a kingdom +fall? To take a young man's appetite away, and keep his eyes open o' +nights, needs a nearer touch than that. But I had on me a horror of what +was being done in this place; they sold a lady's honour there, throwing +it in for a make-weight in their bargain. I would have dashed the scales +from their hands, but I was helpless. There is the truth: a man need not +be ashamed for having had a trifle of honesty about him when he was +young. And if my honesty had the backing of something else that I myself +knew not yet, why, for honesty's good safety, God send it such backing +always! Without some such aid, it is too often brought to terms and +sings small in the end.</p> + +<p>The evening grew late and darkness had fallen. I turned again to my +supper and contrived to eat and to drink a glass or two of wine. +Suddenly I remembered Jonah Wall, and sent a curse after the negligent +fellow, wherever he might be, determining that next morning he should +take his choice between a drubbing and dismissal. Then I stretched +myself again on the pallet, resolute to see whether a man could will +himself asleep. But I had hardly closed my eyes when I opened them again +and started up, leaning on my elbow. There was somebody in conversation +with my gaoler. The conference was brief.</p> + +<p>"Here's the King's order," I heard, in a haughty, careless tone. "Open +the door, fellow, and be quick."</p> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_247" id="Page_247">[Pg 247]</a></span></p> +<p>The door was flung open. I sprang to my feet with a bow. The Duke of +Buckingham stood before me, surveying my person (in truth, my state was +very dishevelled) and my quarters with supercilious amusement. There was +one chair, and I set it for him; he sat down, pulling off his +lace-trimmed gloves.</p> + +<p>"You are the gentleman I wanted?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"I have reason to suppose so, your Grace," I answered.</p> + +<p>"Good," said he. "The Duke of Monmouth and I have spoken to the King on +your behalf."</p> + +<p>I bowed grateful acknowledgments.</p> + +<p>"You are free," he continued, to my joy. "You'll leave the Castle in two +hours," he added, to my consternation. But he appeared to perceive +neither effect of his words. "Those are the King's orders," he ended +composedly.</p> + +<p>"But," I cried, "if I leave the Castle how can I fulfil your Grace's +desire?"</p> + +<p>"I said those were the King's orders. I have something to add to them. +Here, I have written it down, that you may understand and not forget. +Your lantern there gives a poor light, but your eyes are young. Read +what is written, sir."</p> + +<p>I took the paper that he handed me and read:</p> + +<p>"In two hours' time be at Canonsgate. The gate will be open. Two serving +men will be there with two horses. A lady will be conducted to the gate +and delivered into your charge. You will ride with her as speedily as +possible to Deal. You will call her<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_248" id="Page_248">[Pg 248]</a></span> your sister, if need arise to speak +of her. Go to the hostelry of the Merry Mariners in Deal, and there +await a gentleman, who will come in the morning and hand you fifty +guineas in gold. Deliver the lady to this gentleman, return immediately +to London, and lie in safe hiding till word reaches you from me."</p> + +<p>I read and turned to him in amazement.</p> + +<p>"Well," he asked, "isn't it plain enough?"</p> + +<p>"The lady I can guess," I answered, "but I pray your Grace to tell me +who is the gentleman."</p> + +<p>"What need is there for you to know? Do you think that more than one +will seek you at the Merry Mariners Tavern and pray your acceptance of +fifty guineas?"</p> + +<p>"But I should like to know who this one is."</p> + +<p>"You'll know when you see him."</p> + +<p>"With respect to your Grace, this is not enough to tell me."</p> + +<p>"You can't be told more, sir."</p> + +<p>"Then I won't go."</p> + +<p>He frowned and beat his gloves on his thigh impatiently.</p> + +<p>"A gentleman, your Grace," said I, "must be trusted, or he cannot +serve."</p> + +<p>He looked round the little cell and asked significantly,</p> + +<p>"Is your state such as to entitle you to make conditions?"</p> + +<p>"Only if your Grace has need of services which I can give or refuse," I +answered, bowing.</p> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_249" id="Page_249">[Pg 249]</a></span></p> +<p>His irritation suddenly vanished, or seemed to vanish. He leant back in +his chair and laughed.</p> + +<p>"Yet all the time," said he, "you've guessed the gentleman! Isn't it so? +Come, Mr Dale, we understand one another. This service, if all goes +well, is simple. But if you're interrupted in leaving the Castle, you +must use your sword. Well, if you use your sword and don't prove +victorious, you may be taken. If you're taken it will be best for us all +that you shouldn't know the name of this gentleman, and best for him and +for me that I should not have mentioned it."</p> + +<p>The little doubt I had harboured was gone. Buckingham and Monmouth were +hand in hand. Buckingham's object was political, Monmouth was to find +his reward in the prize that I was to rescue from the clutches of M. de +Perrencourt and hand over to him at the hostelry in Deal. If success +attended the attempt, I was to disappear; if it failed, my name and I +were to be the shield and bear the brunt. The reward was fifty guineas, +and perhaps a serviceable gratitude in the minds of two great men, +provided I lived to enjoy the fruit of it.</p> + +<p>"You'll accept this task?" asked the Duke.</p> + +<p>The task was to thwart M. de Perrencourt and gratify the Duke of +Monmouth. If I refused it, another might accept and accomplish it; if +such a champion failed, M. de Perrencourt would triumph. If I accepted, +I should accept in the fixed intention of playing traitor to one of my +employers. I might<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_250" id="Page_250">[Pg 250]</a></span> serve Buckingham's turn, I should seek to thwart +Monmouth.</p> + +<p>"Who pays me fifty guineas?" I asked.</p> + +<p>"Faith, I," he answered with a shrug. "Young Monmouth is enough his +father's son to have his pockets always empty."</p> + +<p>On this excuse I settled my point of casuistry in an instant.</p> + +<p>"Then I'll carry the lady away from the Castle," I cried.</p> + +<p>He started, leant forward, and looked hard in my face. "What do you +mean, what do you know?" he asked plainly enough, although silently. But +I had cried out with an appearance of zeal and innocence that baffled +his curiosity, and my guileless expression gave his suspicions no food. +Perhaps, too, he had no wish to enquire. There was little love between +him and Monmouth, for he had been bitterly offended by the honours and +precedence assigned to the Duke; only a momentary coincidence of +interest bound them together in this scheme. If the part that concerned +Buckingham were accomplished, he would not break his heart on account of +the lady not being ready for Monmouth at the hostelry of the Merry +Mariners.</p> + +<p>"I think, then, that we understand one another, Mr Dale?" said he, +rising.</p> + +<p>"Well enough, your Grace," I answered with a bow, and I rapped on the +door. The gaoler opened it.</p> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_251" id="Page_251">[Pg 251]</a></span></p> +<p>"Mr Dale is free to go where he will within the Castle. You can return +to your quarters," said Buckingham.</p> + +<p>The soldier marched off. Buckingham turned to me.</p> + +<p>"Good fortune in your enterprise," he said. "And I give you joy on your +liberty."</p> + +<p>The words were not out of his mouth when a lieutenant and two men +appeared, approaching us at a rapid walk, nay, almost at a run. They +made directly for us, the Duke and I both watching them. The officer's +sword was drawn in his hand, their daggers were fixed in the muzzles of +the soldiers' muskets.</p> + +<p>"What's happened now?" asked Buckingham in a whisper.</p> + +<p>The answer was not long in coming. The lieutenant halted before us, +crying,</p> + +<p>"In the King's name, I arrest you, sir."</p> + +<p>"On my soul, you've a habit of being arrested, sir," said the Duke +sharply. "What's the cause this time?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know," I answered; and I asked the officer, "On what account, +sir?"</p> + +<p>"The King's orders," he answered curtly. "You must come with me at +once." At a sign from him his men took their stand on either side of me. +Verily, my liberty had been short! "I must warn you that we shall stand +at nothing if you try to escape," said the officer sternly.</p> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_252" id="Page_252">[Pg 252]</a></span></p> +<p>"I'm not a fool, sir," I answered. "Where are you going to take me?"</p> + +<p>"Where my orders direct."</p> + +<p>"Come, come," interrupted Buckingham impatiently, "not so much mystery. +You know me? Well, this gentleman is my friend, and I desire to know +where you take him."</p> + +<p>"I crave your Grace's pardon, but I must not answer."</p> + +<p>"Then I'll follow you and discover," cried the Duke angrily.</p> + +<p>"At your Grace's peril," answered the officer firmly. "If you insist, I +must leave one of my men to detain you here. Mr Dale must go alone with +me."</p> + +<p>Wrath and wonder were eloquent on the proud Duke's face. In me this new +misadventure bred a species of resignation. I smiled at him, as I said,</p> + +<p>"My business with your Grace must wait, it seems."</p> + +<p>"Forward, sir," cried the officer, impatiently, and I was marched off at +a round pace, Buckingham not attempting to follow, but turning back in +the direction of the Duke of Monmouth's quarters. The confederates must +seek a new instrument now; if their purpose were to thwart the King's +wishes, they might not find what they wanted again so easily.</p> + +<p>I was conducted straight and quickly to the keep, and passed up the +steps that led to the corridor in which the King was lodged. They +hurried me along, and I had time to notice nothing until I came to a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_253" id="Page_253">[Pg 253]</a></span> +door near the end of the building, on the western side. Here I found +Darrell, apparently on guard, for his sword was drawn and a pistol in +his left hand.</p> + +<p>"Here, sir, is Mr Dale," said my conductor.</p> + +<p>"Good," answered Darrell briefly. I saw that his face was very pale, and +he accorded me not the least sign of recognition. "Is he armed?" he +asked.</p> + +<p>"You see I have no weapons, Mr Darrell," said I stiffly.</p> + +<p>"Search him," commanded Darrell, ignoring me utterly.</p> + +<p>I grew hot and angry. The soldiers obeyed the order. I fixed my eyes on +Darrell, but he would not meet my gaze; the point of his sword tapped +the floor on which it rested, for his hand was shaking like a leaf.</p> + +<p>"There's no weapon on him," announced the officer.</p> + +<p>"Very well. Leave him with me, sir, and retire with your men to the foot +of the steps. If you hear a whistle, return as quickly as possible."</p> + +<p>The officer bowed, turned about, and departed, followed by his men. +Darrell and I stood facing one another for a moment.</p> + +<p>"In hell's name, what's the meaning of this, Darrell?" I cried. "Has +Madame brought the Bastille over with her, and are you made Governor?"</p> + +<p>He answered not a word. Keeping his sword<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_254" id="Page_254">[Pg 254]</a></span> still in readiness, he +knocked with the muzzle of his pistol on the door by him. After a moment +it was opened, and a head looked out. The face was Sir Thomas +Clifford's; the door was flung wide, a gesture from Darrell bade me +enter. I stepped in, he followed, and the door was instantly shut close +behind us.</p> + +<p>I shall not readily forget the view disclosed to me by the flaring oil +lamps hung in sconces to the ancient smoky walls. I was in a narrow +room, low and not large, scantly furnished with faded richness, and hung +to half its height with mouldering tapestries. The floor was bare, and +uneven from time and use. In the middle of the room was a long table of +polished oak wood; in the centre of it sat the King, on his left was the +Duchess of Orleans, and beyond her the Duke of York; on the King's right +at the end of the table was an empty chair; Clifford moved towards it +now and took his seat; next to him was Arlington, then Colbert de +Croissy, the Special Envoy of the French King. Next to our King was +another empty chair, an arm-chair, like the King's; empty it was, but M. +de Perrencourt leant easily over the back of it, with his eyes fixed on +me. On the table were materials for writing, and a large sheet of paper +faced the King—or M. de Perrencourt; it seemed just between them. There +was nothing else on the table except a bottle of wine and two cups; one +was full to the brim, while the liquor in the other fell short of the +top<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_255" id="Page_255">[Pg 255]</a></span> of the glass by a quarter of an inch. All present were silent; save +M. de Perrencourt, all seemed disturbed; the King's swarthy face +appeared rather pale than swarthy, and his hand rapped nervously on the +table. All this I saw, while Darrell stood rigidly by me, sword in hand.</p> + +<p>Madame was the first to speak; her delicate subtle face lit up with +recognition.</p> + +<p>"Why, I have spoken with this gentleman," she said in a low voice.</p> + +<p>"And I also," said M. de Perrencourt under his breath.</p> + +<p>I think he hardly knew that he spoke, for the words seemed the merest +unconscious outcome of his thoughts.</p> + +<p>The King raised his hand, as though to impose silence. Madame bowed in +apologetic submission, M. de Perrencourt took no heed of the gesture, +although he did not speak again. A moment later he laid his hand on +Colbert's shoulder and whispered to him. I thought I heard just a +word—it was "Fontelles." Colbert looked up and nodded. M. de +Perrencourt folded his arms on the back of the chair, and his face +resumed its impassivity.</p> + +<p>Another moment elapsed before the King spoke. His voice was calm, but +there seemed still to echo in it a trace of some violent emotion newly +passed; a slight smile curved his lips, but there was more malice than +mirth in it.</p> + +<p>"Mr Dale," said he, "the gentleman who stands<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_256" id="Page_256">[Pg 256]</a></span> by you once beguiled an +idle minute for me by telling me of a certain strange prophecy made +concerning you which he had, he said, from your own lips, and in which +my name—or at least some King's name—and yours were quaintly coupled. +You know what I refer to?"</p> + +<p>I bowed low, wondering what in Heaven's name he would be at. It was, no +doubt, high folly to love Mistress Gwyn, but scarcely high treason. +Besides, had not I repented and forsworn her? Ah, but the second member +of the prophecy? I glanced eagerly at M. de Perrencourt, eagerly at the +paper before the King. There were lines on the paper, but I could not +read them, and M. de Perrencourt's face was fully as baffling.</p> + +<p>"If I remember rightly," pursued the King, after listening to a +whispered sentence from his sister, "the prediction foretold that you +should drink of my cup. Is it not so?"</p> + +<p>"It was so, Sir, although what your Majesty quotes was the end, not the +beginning of it."</p> + +<p>For an instant a smile glimmered on the King's face; it was gone and he +proceeded gravely.</p> + +<p>"I am concerned only with that part of it. I love prophecies and I love +to see them fulfilled. You see that cup there, the one that is not quite +full. That cup of wine was poured out for me, the other for my friend M. +de Perrencourt. I pray you, drink of my cup and let the prophecy stand +fulfilled."</p> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_257" id="Page_257">[Pg 257]</a></span></p> +<p>In honest truth I began to think that the King had drunk other cups +before and left them not so full. Yet he looked sober enough, and the +rest were grave and mute. What masquerade was this, to bring me under +guard and threat of death to drink a cup of wine? I would have drunk a +dozen of my free will, for the asking.</p> + +<p>"Your Majesty desires me to drink that cup of wine?" I asked.</p> + +<p>"If you please, sir; the cup that was poured out for me."</p> + +<p>"With all my heart," I cried, and, remembering my manners, I added, "and +with most dutiful thanks to Your Majesty for this signal honour."</p> + +<p>A stir, hardly to be seen, yet certain, ran round the table. Madame +stretched out a hand towards the cup as though with a sudden impulse to +seize it; the King caught her hand and held it prisoner. M. de +Perrencourt suddenly dragged his chair back and, passing in front of it, +stood close over the table. Colbert looked up at him, but his eyes were +fixed on me, and the Envoy went unnoticed.</p> + +<p>"Then come and take it," said the King.</p> + +<p>I advanced after a low bow. Darrell, to my fresh wonder, kept pace with +me, and when I reached the table was still at my side. Before I could +move his sword might be through me or the ball from his pistol in my +brains. The strange scene began to intoxicate me, its stirring +suggestion mounting to my head like fumes of wine. I seized the cup and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_258" id="Page_258">[Pg 258]</a></span> +held it high in my hand. I looked down in the King's face, and thence to +Madame's; to her I bowed low and cried:</p> + +<p>"By His Majesty's permission I will drain this cup to the honour of the +fairest and most illustrious Princess, Madame the Duchess of Orleans."</p> + +<p>The Duchess half-rose from her seat, crying in a loud whisper, "Not to +me, no, no! I can't have him drink it to me."</p> + +<p>The King still held her hand.</p> + +<p>"Drink it to me, Mr Dale," said he.</p> + +<p>I bowed to him and put the cup to my lips. I was in the act to drink, +when M. de Perrencourt spoke.</p> + +<p>"A moment, sir," he said calmly. "Have I the King's permission to tell +Mr Dale a secret concerning this wine?"</p> + +<p>The Duke of York looked up with a frown, the King turned to M. de +Perrencourt as if in doubt, the Frenchman met his glance and nodded.</p> + +<p>"M. de Perrencourt is our guest," said the King. "He must do as he +will."</p> + +<p>M. de Perrencourt, having thus obtained permission (when was his will +denied him?), leant one hand on the table and, bending across towards +me, said in slow, calm, yet impressive tones:</p> + +<p>"The King, sir, was wearied with business and parched with talking; of +his goodness he detected in me the same condition. So he bade my good +friend and his good subject Mr Darrell furnish him with a bottle of +wine, and Mr Darrell brought a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_259" id="Page_259">[Pg 259]</a></span> bottle, saying that the King's cellar +was shut and the cellarman in bed, but praying the King to honour him by +drinking his wine, which was good French wine, such as the King loved +and such as he hoped to put before His Majesty at supper presently. Then +His Majesty asked whence it came, and Mr Darrell answered that he was +indebted for it to his good friend Mr Simon Dale, who would be honoured +by the King's drinking it."</p> + +<p>"Why, it's my own wine then!" I cried, smiling now.</p> + +<p>"He spoke the truth, did he?" pursued M. de Perrencourt composedly. "It +is your wine, sent by you to Mr Darrell?"</p> + +<p>"Even so, sir," I answered. "Mr. Darrell's wine was out, and I sent him +some bottles of wine by his servant."</p> + +<p>"You knew for what he needed it?"</p> + +<p>I had forgotten for the moment what Robert said, and hesitated in my +answer. M. de Perrencourt looked intently at me.</p> + +<p>"I think," said I, "that Robert told me Mr Darrell expected the King to +sup with him."</p> + +<p>"He told you that?" he asked sharply.</p> + +<p>"Yes, I remember that," said I, now thoroughly bewildered by the history +and the catechism which seemed necessary to an act so simple as drinking +a glass of my own wine.</p> + +<p>M. de Perrencourt said nothing more, but his eyes were still set on my +face with a puzzled searching<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_260" id="Page_260">[Pg 260]</a></span> expression. His glance confused me, and I +looked round the table. Often at such moments the merest trifles catch +our attention, and now for the first time I observed that a little of +the wine had been spilt on the polished oak of the table; where it had +fallen the bright surface seemed rusted to dull brown. I noticed the +change, and wondered for an idle second how it came that wine turned a +polished table dull. The thing was driven from my head the next moment +by a brief and harsh order from the King.</p> + +<p>"Drink, sir, drink."</p> + +<p>Strained with excitement, I started at the order, and slopped some of +the wine from the cup on my hand. I felt a strange burning where it +fell; but again the King cried, "Drink, sir."</p> + +<p>I hesitated no more. Recalling my wandering wits and determining to play +my part in the comedy, whatever it might mean, I bowed, cried "God save +your Majesty," and raised the cup to my lips. As it touched them, I saw +Madame hide her eyes with her hand and M. de Perrencourt lean farther +across the table, while a short quick gasp of breath came from where +Darrell stood by my side.</p> + +<p>I knew how to take off a bumper of wine. No sippings and swallowings for +me! I laid my tongue well down in the bottom of my mouth that the liquor +might have fair passage to my gullet, and threw my head back as you see +a hen do (in thanks to heaven, they say, though she drinks only water). +Then I tilted the cup, and my mouth was full of the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_261" id="Page_261">[Pg 261]</a></span> wine. I was +conscious of a taste in it, a strange acrid taste. Why, it was poor +wine, turned sour; it should go back to-morrow; that fool Jonah was a +fool in all things; and I stood disgraced for offering this acrid stuff +to a friend. And he gave it to the King! It was the cruellest chance. +Why——</p> + +<p>Suddenly, when I had gulped down but one good mouthful, I saw M. de +Perrencourt lean right across the table. Yet I saw him dimly, for my +eyes seemed to grow glazed and the room to spin round me, the figures at +the table taking strange shapes and weird dim faces, and a singing +sounding in my ears, as though the sea roared there and not on Dover +beach. There was a woman's cry, and a man's arm shot out at me. I felt a +sharp blow on my wrist, the cup was dashed from my hand on to the stone +floor, breaking into ten thousand pieces, while the wine made a puddle +at my feet. I stood there for an instant, struck motionless, glaring +into the face that was opposite to mine. It was M. de Perrencourt's, no +longer calm, but pale and twitching. This was the last thing I saw +clearly. The King and his companions were fused in a shifting mass of +trunks and faces, the walls raced round, the singing of the sea roared +and fretted in my ears. I caught my hand to my brow and staggered; I +could not stand, I heard a clatter as though of a sword falling to the +floor, arms were stretched out to receive me and I sank into them, +hearing a murmur close by me, "Simon, Simon!"</p> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_262" id="Page_262">[Pg 262]</a></span></p> +<p>Yet one thing more I heard, before my senses left me—a loud, proud, +imperious voice, the voice that speaks to be obeyed, whose assertion +brooks no contradiction. It rang in my ears where nothing else could +reach them, and even then I knew whence it came. The voice was the voice +of M. de Perrencourt, and it seemed that he spoke to the King of +England.</p> + +<p>"Brother," he cried, "by my faith in God, this gentleman is innocent, +and his life is on our heads, if he lose it."</p> + +<p>I heard no more. Stupor veiled me round in an impenetrable mist. The +figures vanished, the tumultuous singing ceased. A great silence +encompassed me, and all was gone.</p> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_263" id="Page_263">[Pg 263]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XV" id="CHAPTER_XV"></a>CHAPTER XV</h2> + +<h3>M. DE PERRENCOURT WHISPERS</h3> + + +<p>Slowly the room and the scene came back to me, disengaging themselves +from the darkness which had settled on my eyes, regaining distinctness +and their proper form. I was sitting in a chair, and there were wet +bandages about my head. Those present before were there still, save M. +de Perrencourt, whose place at the table was vacant; the large sheet of +paper and the materials for writing had vanished. There was a fresh +group at the end, next to Arlington; here now sat the Dukes of Monmouth +and Buckingham, carrying on a low conversation with the Secretary. The +King lay back in his chair, frowning and regarding with severe gaze a +man who stood opposite to him, almost where I had been when I drank of +the King's cup. There stood Darrell and the lieutenant of the Guards who +had arrested me, and between them, with clothes torn and muddy, face +scratched and stained with blood, with panting breath and gleaming eyes, +firmly held by either arm, was Phineas Tate the Ranter. They had sent +and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_264" id="Page_264">[Pg 264]</a></span> caught him then, while I lay unconscious. But what led them to +suspect him?</p> + +<p>There was the voice of a man speaking from the other side of this party +of three. I could not see him, for their bodies came between, but I +recognised the tones of Robert, Darrell's servant. It was he, then, who +had put them on Jonah's track, and, in following that, they must have +come on Phineas.</p> + +<p>"We found the two together," he was saying, "this man and Mr Dale's +servant who had brought the wine from the town. Both were armed with +pistols and daggers, and seemed ready to meet an attack. In the alley in +front of the house that I have named——"</p> + +<p>"Yes, yes, enough of the house," interrupted the King impatiently.</p> + +<p>"In the alley there were two horses ready. We attacked the men at once, +the lieutenant and I making for this one here, the two with us striving +to secure Jonah Wall. This man struggled desperately, but seemed +ignorant of how to handle his weapons. Yet he gave us trouble enough, +and we had to use him roughly. At last we had him, but then we found +that Jonah, who fought like a wild cat, had wounded both the soldiers +with his knife, and, although himself wounded, had escaped by the +stairs. Leaving this man with the lieutenant, I rushed down after him, +but one of the horses was gone, and I heard no sound of hoofs. He had +got a start of us, and is well out of Dover by now."</p> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_265" id="Page_265">[Pg 265]</a></span></p> +<p>I was straining all my attention to listen, yet my eyes fixed themselves +on Phineas, whose head was thrown back defiantly. Suddenly a voice came +from behind my chair.</p> + +<p>"That man must be pursued," said M. de Perrencourt. "Who knows that +there may not be accomplices in this devilish plot? This man has planned +to poison the King; the servant was his confederate. I say, may there +not have been others in the wicked scheme?"</p> + +<p>"True, true," said the King uneasily. "We must lay this Jonah Wall by +the heels. What's known of him?"</p> + +<p>Thinking the appeal was made to me, I strove to rise. M. de +Perrencourt's arm reached over the back of my chair and kept me down. I +heard Darrell take up the story and tell what he knew—and it was as +much as I knew—of Jonah Wall, and what he knew of Phineas Tate also.</p> + +<p>"It is a devilish plot," said the King, who was still greatly shaken and +perturbed.</p> + +<p>Then Phineas spoke loudly, boldly, and with a voice full of the +rapturous fanaticism which drowned conscience and usurped in him +religion's place.</p> + +<p>"Here," he cried, "are the plots, here are the devilish plots! What do +you here? Aye, what do you plot here? Is this man's life more than God's +Truth? Is God's Word to be lost that the sins and debauchery of this man +may continue?"</p> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_266" id="Page_266">[Pg 266]</a></span></p> +<p>His long lean forefinger pointed at the King. A mute consternation fell +for an instant on them all, and none interrupted him. They had no answer +ready for his question; men do not count on such questions being asked +at Court, the manners are too good there.</p> + +<p>"Here are the plots! I count myself blessed to die in the effort to +thwart them! I have failed, but others shall not fail! God's Judgment is +sure. What do you here, Charles Stuart?"</p> + +<p>M. de Perrencourt walked suddenly and briskly round to where the King +sat and whispered in his ear. The King nodded, and said,</p> + +<p>"I think this fellow is mad, but it's a dangerous madness."</p> + +<p>Phineas did not heed him, but cried aloud,</p> + +<p>"And you here—are you all with him? Are you all apostates from God? Are +you all given over to the superstitions of Rome? Are you all here to +barter God's word and——"</p> + +<p>The King sprang to his feet.</p> + +<p>"I won't listen," he cried. "Stop his cursed mouth. I won't listen." He +looked round with fear and alarm in his eyes. I perceived his gaze +turned towards his son and Buckingham. Following it, I saw their faces +alight with eagerness, excitement, and curiosity. Arlington looked down +at the table; Clifford leant his head on his hand. At the other end the +Duke of York had sprung up like his brother, and was glaring angrily at +the bold prisoner. Darrell<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_267" id="Page_267">[Pg 267]</a></span> did not wait to be bidden twice, but whipped +a silk handkerchief from his pocket.</p> + +<p>"Here and now the deed is being done!" cried Phineas. "Here and now——" +He could say no more; in spite of his desperate struggles, he was gagged +and stood silent, his eyes still burning with the message which his lips +were not suffered to utter. The King sank back in his seat, and cast a +furtive glance round the table. Then he sighed, as though in relief, and +wiped his brow. Monmouth's voice came clear, careless, confident.</p> + +<p>"What's this madness?" he asked. "Who here is bartering God's Word? And +for what, pray?"</p> + +<p>No answer was given to him; he glanced in insolent amusement at +Arlington and Clifford, then in insolent defiance at the Duke of York.</p> + +<p>"Is not the religion of the country safe with the King?" he asked, +bowing to his father.</p> + +<p>"So safe, James, that it does not need you to champion it," said the +King dryly; yet his voice trembled a little. Phineas raised that lean +forefinger at him again, and pointed. "Tie the fellow's arms to his +side," the King commanded in hasty irritation; he sighed again when the +finger could no longer point at him, and his eyes again furtively sought +Monmouth's face. The young Duke leant back with a scornful smile, and +the consciousness of the King's regard did not lead him to school his +face to any more seemly expression. My wits had come back now, although +my head ached fiercely<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_268" id="Page_268">[Pg 268]</a></span> and my body was full of acute pain; but I +watched all that passed, and I knew that, come what might, they would +not let Phineas speak. Yet Phineas could know nothing. Nay, but the +shafts of madness, often wide, may once hit the mark. The paper that had +lain between the King and M. de Perrencourt was hidden.</p> + +<p>Again the French gentleman bent and whispered in the King's ear. He +spoke long this time, and all kept silence while he spoke—Phineas +because he must, the lieutenant with surprised eyes, the rest in that +seeming indifference which, as I knew, masked their real deference. At +last the King looked up, nodded, and smiled. His air grew calmer and +more assured, and the trembling was gone from his voice as he spoke.</p> + +<p>"Come, gentlemen," said he, "while we talk this ruffian who has escaped +us makes good pace from Dover. Let the Duke of Monmouth and the Duke of +Buckingham each take a dozen men and scour the country for him. I shall +be greatly in the debt of either who brings him to me."</p> + +<p>The two Dukes started. The service which the King demanded of them +entailed an absence of several hours from the Castle. It might be that +they, or one of them, would learn something from Jonah Wall; but it was +far more likely that they would not find him, or that he would not +suffer himself to be taken alive. Why were they sent, and not a couple +of the officers on duty? But if the King's object were to secure their +absence, the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_269" id="Page_269">[Pg 269]</a></span> scheme was well laid. I thought now that I could guess +what M. de Perrencourt had said in that whispered conference. Buckingham +had the discretion to recognise when the game went against him. He rose +at once with a bow, declaring that he hastened to obey the King's +command, and would bring the fellow in, dead or alive. Monmouth had less +self-control. He rose indeed, but reluctantly and with a sullen frown on +his handsome face.</p> + +<p>"It's poor work looking for a single man over the countryside," he +grumbled.</p> + +<p>"Your devotion to me will inspire and guide you, James," observed the +King. A chance of mocking another made him himself again as no other +cure could. "Come, lose no time." Then the King added: "Take this fellow +away, and lock him up. Mr Darrell, see that you guard him well, and let +nobody come near him."</p> + +<p>M. de Perrencourt whispered.</p> + +<p>"Above all, let him speak to nobody. He must tell what he knows only at +the right time," added the King.</p> + +<p>"When will that be?" asked Monmouth audibly, yet so low that the King +could feign not to hear and smiled pleasantly at his son. But still the +Duke lingered, although Buckingham was gone and Phineas Tate had been +led out between his custodians. His eyes sought mine, and I read an +appeal in them. That he desired to take me with him in pursuit of Jonah +Wall, I did not think; but he<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_270" id="Page_270">[Pg 270]</a></span> desired above all things to get me out of +that room, to have speech with me, to know that I was free to work out +the scheme which Buckingham had disclosed to me. Nay, it was not +unlikely that his search for Jonah Wall would lead him to the hostelry +of the Merry Mariners at Deal. And for my plan too, which differed so +little yet so much from his, for that also I must be free. I rose to my +feet, delighted to find that I could stand well and that my pains grew +no more severe with movement.</p> + +<p>"I am at your Grace's orders," said I. "May I ride with you, sir?"</p> + +<p>The King looked at me doubtfully.</p> + +<p>"I should be glad of your company," said the Duke, "if your health +allows."</p> + +<p>"Most fully, sir," I answered, and turning to the King I begged his +leave to depart. And that leave I should, as I think, have obtained, but +for the fact that once again M. de Perrencourt whispered to the King. +The King rose from his seat, took M. de Perrencourt's arm and walked +with him to where his Grace stood. I watched them, till a little stifled +laugh caught my attention. Madame's face was merry, and hers the laugh. +She saw my look on her and laughed again, raising her finger to her lips +in a swift stealthy motion. She glanced round apprehensively, but her +action had passed unnoticed; the Duke of York seemed sunk in a dull +apathy, Clifford and Arlington were busy in conversation. What did she +mean? Did she confess that I held<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_271" id="Page_271">[Pg 271]</a></span> their secret and impose silence on me +by a more than royal command, by the behest of bright eyes and red lips +which dared me to betray their confidence? On the moment's impulse I +bowed assent; Madame nodded merrily and waved a kiss with her dainty +hand; no word passed, but I felt that I, being a gentleman, could tell +no man alive what I suspected, aye, what I knew, concerning M. de +Perrencourt. Thus lightly are pledges given when ladies ask them.</p> + +<p>The Duke of Monmouth started back with a sudden angry motion. The King +smiled at him; M. de Perrencourt laid a hand, decked with rich rings, on +his lace cuff. Madame rose, laughing still, and joined the three. I +cannot tell what passed—alas, that the matters of highest interest are +always elusive!—but a moment later Monmouth fell back with as sour a +look as I have ever seen on a man's face, bowed slightly and not +over-courteously, faced round and strode through the doorway, opening +the door for himself. I heard Madame's gay laugh, again the King spoke, +Madame cried, "Fie," and hid her face with her hand. M. de Perrencourt +advanced towards me; the King caught his arm. "Pooh, he knows already," +muttered Perrencourt, half under his breath, but he gave way, and the +King came to me first.</p> + +<p>"Sir," said he, "the Duke of Monmouth has had the dutiful kindness to +release his claim on your present services, and to set you free to serve +me."</p> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_272" id="Page_272">[Pg 272]</a></span></p> +<p>I bowed very low, answering,</p> + +<p>"His Grace is bountiful of kindness to me, and has given the greatest +proof of it in enabling me to serve Your Majesty."</p> + +<p>"My pleasure is," pursued the King, "that you attach yourself to my +friend M. de Perrencourt here, and accompany him and hold yourself at +his disposal until further commands from me reach you."</p> + +<p>M. de Perrencourt stepped forward and addressed me.</p> + +<p>"In two hours' time, sir," said he, "I beg you to be ready to accompany +me. A ship lies yonder at the pier, waiting to carry His Excellency M. +Colbert de Croissy and myself to Calais to-night on business of moment. +Since the King gives you to me, I pray your company."</p> + +<p>"Till then, Mr Dale, adieu," said the King. "Not a word of what has +passed here to-night to any man—or any woman. Be in readiness. You know +enough, I think, to tell you that you receive a great honour in M. de +Perrencourt's request. Your discretion will show your worthiness. Kiss +Madame's hand and leave us."</p> + +<p>They both smiled at me, and I stood half-bewildered. "Go," said M. de +Perrencourt with a laugh, clapping me on the shoulder. The two turned +away. Madame held out her hand towards me; I bent and kissed it.</p> + +<p>"Mr Dale," said she, "you have all the virtues."</p> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_273" id="Page_273">[Pg 273]</a></span></p> +<p>"Alas, Madame, I fear you don't mean to commend me."</p> + +<p>"Yes, for a rarity, at least. But you have one vice."</p> + +<p>"It shall be mended, if your Royal Highness will tell its name."</p> + +<p>"Nay, I shall increase it by naming it. But here it is; your eyes are +too wide open, Mr Dale."</p> + +<p>"My mother, Madame, used to accuse me of a trick of keeping them +half-shut."</p> + +<p>"Your mother had not seen you at Court, sir."</p> + +<p>"True, Madame, nor had my eyes beheld your Royal Highness."</p> + +<p>She laughed, pleased with a compliment which was well in the mode then, +though my sons may ridicule it; but as she turned away she added,</p> + +<p>"I shall not be with you to-night, and M. de Perrencourt hates a staring +eye."</p> + +<p>I was warned and I was grateful. But there I stopped. Since Heaven had +given me my eyes, nothing on earth could prevent them opening when +matter worth the looking was presented. And perhaps they might be open, +and yet seem shut to M. de Perrencourt. With a final salute to the +exalted company I went out; as I went they resumed their places at the +table, M. de Perrencourt saying, "Come, let us finish. I must be away +before dawn."</p> + +<p>I returned to my quarters in no small turmoil; yet my head, though it +still ached sorely from the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_274" id="Page_274">[Pg 274]</a></span> effect of tasting that draught so +fortunately dashed from my hand, was clear enough, and I could put +together all the pieces of the puzzle save one. But that one chanced to +be of some moment to me, for it was myself. The business with the King +which had brought M. de Perrencourt so stealthily to Dover was finished, +or was even now being accomplished; his presence and authority had +reinforced Madame's persuasions, and the treaty was made. But in these +high affairs I had no place. If I would find my work I must look +elsewhere, to the struggle that had arisen between M. de Perrencourt and +his Grace the Duke of Monmouth, in which the stakes were not wars or +religions, and the quarrel of simpler nature. In that fight Louis (for I +did not trouble to maintain his disguise in my thoughts) had won, as he +was certain to win if he put forth his strength. My heart was sore for +Mistress Barbara. I knew that she was to be the spoil of the French +King's victory, and that the loss to the beauty of his Court caused by +the departure of Mlle. de Quérouaille was to find compensation. But, +still, where was my part? I saw only one thing: that Louis had taken a +liking for me, and might well choose me as his instrument, if an +instrument were needed. But for what and where it was needed I could not +conceive; since all France was under his feet, and a thousand men would +spring up to do his bidding at a word—aye, let the bidding be what it +might, and the task as disgraceful as you will.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_275" id="Page_275">[Pg 275]</a></span> What were the qualities +in me or in my condition that dictated his choice baffled conjecture.</p> + +<p>Suddenly came a low knock on the door. I opened it and a man slipped in +quickly and covertly. To my amazement, I saw Carford. He had kept much +out of sight lately; I supposed that he had discovered all he wanted +from Monmouth's ready confidence, and had carried his ill-won gains to +his paymaster. But supposing that he would keep up the comedy I said +stiffly,</p> + +<p>"You come to me from the Duke of Monmouth, my lord?"</p> + +<p>He was in no mood for pretence to-night. He was in a state of great +excitement, and, brushing aside all reserve, made at once for the point.</p> + +<p>"I am come," said he, "to speak a word with you. In an hour you're to +sail for France?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," said I. "Those are the King's orders."</p> + +<p>"But in an hour you could be so far from here that he with whom you go +could not wait for your return."</p> + +<p>"Well, my lord?"</p> + +<p>"To be brief, what's your price to fly and not to sail?"</p> + +<p>We were standing, facing one another. I answered him slowly, trying to +catch his purpose.</p> + +<p>"Why are you willing to pay me a price?" said I. "For it's you who +pays?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, I pay. Come, man, you know why you go and who goes with you?"</p> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_276" id="Page_276">[Pg 276]</a></span></p> +<p>"M. de Perrencourt and M. Colbert go," said I. "Why I go, I don't know."</p> + +<p>"Nor who else goes?" he asked, looking in my eyes. I paused for a moment +and then answered,</p> + +<p>"Yes, she goes."</p> + +<p>"And you know for what purpose?"</p> + +<p>"I can guess the purpose."</p> + +<p>"Well, I want to go in your place. I have done with that fool Monmouth, +and the French King would suit me well for a master."</p> + +<p>"Then ask him to take you also."</p> + +<p>"He will not; he'll rather take you."</p> + +<p>"Then I'll go," said I.</p> + +<p>He drew a step nearer to me. I watched him closely, for, on my life, I +did not know in what mood he was, and his honour was ill to lean on as a +waving reed.</p> + +<p>"What will you gain by going?" he asked. "And if you fly he will take +me. Somebody he must take."</p> + +<p>"Is not M. Colbert enough?"</p> + +<p>He looked at me suspiciously, as though he thought that I assumed +ignorance.</p> + +<p>"You know very well that Colbert wouldn't serve his purpose."</p> + +<p>"By my faith," I cried, "I don't know what his purpose is."</p> + +<p>"You swear it?" he asked in distrust and amazement.</p> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_277" id="Page_277">[Pg 277]</a></span></p> +<p>"Most willingly," I answered. "It is simple truth."</p> + +<p>He gazed at me still as though but half-convinced.</p> + +<p>"Then what's your purpose in going?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"I obey my orders. Yet I have a purpose, and one I had rather trust with +myself than with you, my lord."</p> + +<p>"Pray, sir, what is it?"</p> + +<p>"To serve and guard the lady who goes also."</p> + +<p>After a moment of seeming surprise, he broke into a sneering laugh.</p> + +<p>"You go to guard her?" he said.</p> + +<p>"Her and her honour," I answered steadily. "And I do not desire to +resign that task into your hands, my lord."</p> + +<p>"What will you do? How will you serve her?" he asked.</p> + +<p>A sudden suspicion of him seized me. His manner had changed to a forced +urbanity; when he was civil he was treacherous.</p> + +<p>"That's my secret, my lord," I answered. "I have preparations to make. I +pray you, give me leave." I opened the door and held it for him.</p> + +<p>His rage mastered him; he grew red and the veins swelled on his +forehead.</p> + +<p>"By heaven, you shan't go," he cried, and clapped his hand to his sword.</p> + +<p>"Who says that Mr Dale shall not go?"</p> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_278" id="Page_278">[Pg 278]</a></span></p> +<p>A man stood in the doorway, plainly attired, wearing boots, and a cloak +that half-hid his face. Yet I knew him, and Carford knew him. Carford +shrank back, I bowed, and we both bared our heads. M. de Perrencourt +advanced into the room, fixing his eyes on Carford.</p> + +<p>"My lord," he said, "when I decline a gentleman's services I am not to +be forced into accepting them, and when I say a gentleman shall go with +me he goes. Have you a quarrel with me on that account?"</p> + +<p>Carford found no words in which to answer him, but his eyes told that he +would have given the world to draw his sword against M. de Perrencourt, +or, indeed, against the pair of us. A gesture of the newcomer's arm +motioned him to the door. But he had one sentence more to hear before he +was suffered to slink away.</p> + +<p>"Kings, my lord," said M. de Perrencourt, "may be compelled to set spies +about the persons of others. They do not need them about their own."</p> + +<p>Carford turned suddenly white, and his teeth set. I thought that he +would fly at the man who rebuked him so scornfully; but such an outbreak +meant death; he controlled himself. He passed out, and Louis, with a +careless laugh, seated himself on my bed. I stood respectfully opposite +to him.</p> + +<p>"Make your preparations," said he. "In half an hour's time we depart."</p> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_279" id="Page_279">[Pg 279]</a></span></p> +<p>I obeyed him, setting about the task of filling my saddle-bags with my +few possessions. He watched me in silence for awhile. At last he spoke.</p> + +<p>"I have chosen you to go with me," he said, "because although you know a +thing, you don't speak of it, and although you see a thing, you can +appear blind."</p> + +<p>I remembered that Madame thought my blindness deficient, but I received +the compliment in silence.</p> + +<p>"These great qualities," he pursued, "make a man's fortune. You shall +come with me to Paris."</p> + +<p>"To Paris, sir?"</p> + +<p>"Yes. I'll find work for you there, and those who do my work lack +neither reward nor honour. Come, sir, am I not as good a King to serve +as another?"</p> + +<p>"Your Majesty is the greatest Prince in Christendom," said I. For such +indeed all the world held him.</p> + +<p>"Yet even the greatest Prince in Christendom fears some things," said +he, smiling.</p> + +<p>"Surely nothing, sir?"</p> + +<p>"Why, yes. A woman's tongue, a woman's tears, a woman's rage, a woman's +jealousy; I say, Mr Dale, a woman's jealousy."</p> + +<p>It was well that my preparations were done, or they had never been done. +I was staring at him now with my hands dropped to my side.</p> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_280" id="Page_280">[Pg 280]</a></span></p> +<p>"I am married," he pursued. "That is little." And he shrugged his +shoulders.</p> + +<p>"Little enough at Courts, in all conscience," thought I; perhaps my face +betrayed something of the thought, for King Louis smiled.</p> + +<p>"But I am more than a husband," he pursued. "I am a lover, Mr Dale."</p> + +<p>Not knowing what comment to make on this, I made none. I had heard the +talk about his infatuation, but it was not for me to mention the lady's +name. Nor did the King name her. He rose and approached me, looking full +in my face.</p> + +<p>"You are neither a husband nor a lover?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"Neither, sir."</p> + +<p>"You know Mistress Quinton?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir."</p> + +<p>He was close to me now, and he whispered to me as he had whispered to +the King in the Council Chamber.</p> + +<p>"With my favour and such a lady for his wife, a gentleman might climb +high."</p> + +<p>I heard the words, and I could not repress a start. At last the puzzle +was pieced, and my part plain. I knew now the work I was to do, the +price of the reward I was to gain. Had he said it a month before, when I +was not yet trained to self-control and concealment, King as he was, I +would have drawn my sword on him. For good or evil dissimulation is soon +learnt. With a great effort I<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_281" id="Page_281">[Pg 281]</a></span> repressed my agitation and hid my +disgust. King Louis smiled at me, deeming what he had suggested no +insult.</p> + +<p>"Your wedding shall take place at Calais," he said; and I (I wonder now +to think of it) bowed and smiled.</p> + +<p>"Be ready in a quarter of an hour," said he, and left me with a gracious +smile.</p> + +<p>I stood there where I was for the best part of the time still left to +me. I saw why Carford desired the mission on which I went, why Madame +bade me practise the closing of my eyes, how my fortune was to come from +the hand of King Louis. An English gentleman and his wife would travel +back with the King; the King would give his favour to both; and the lady +was Barbara Quinton.</p> + +<p>I turned at last, and made my final preparation. It was simple; I loaded +my pistol and hid it about me, and I buckled on my sword, seeing that it +moved easily in the sheath. By fortune's will, I had to redeem the +pledge which I had given to my lord; his daughter's honour now knew no +safety but in my arm and wits. Alas, how slender the chance was, and how +great the odds!</p> + +<p>Then a sudden fear came upon me. I had lived of late in a Court where +honour seemed dead, and women, no less than men, gave everything for +wealth or place. I had seen nothing of her, no word had come from her to +me. She had scorned Monmouth, but might she not be won to smile on M. de +Perrencourt?<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_282" id="Page_282">[Pg 282]</a></span> I drove the thought from me, but it came again and again, +shaming me and yet fastening on me. She went with M. de Perrencourt; did +she go willingly?</p> + +<p>With that thought beating in my brain, I stepped forth to my adventure.</p> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_283" id="Page_283">[Pg 283]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XVI" id="CHAPTER_XVI"></a>CHAPTER XVI</h2> + +<h3>M. DE PERRENCOURT WONDERS</h3> + + +<p>As I walked briskly from my quarters down to the sea, M. de +Perrencourt's last whisper, "With my favour and such a lady for his +wife, a gentleman might climb high," echoed in my ears so loudly and +insistently as to smother all thought of what had passed in the Council +Chamber, and to make of no moment for me the plots and plans alike of +Kings, Catholics, and Ranters. That night I cared little though the King +had signed away the liberties of our religion and his realm; I spared no +more than a passing wonder for the attempt to which conscience run mad +had urged Phineas Tate, and in which he in his turn had involved my +simpleton of a servant. Let them all plot and plan; the issue lay in +God's hand, above my knowledge and beyond my power. My task was enough, +and more than enough, for my weakness; to it I turned, with no fixed +design and no lively hope, with a prayer for success only, and a resolve +not to be King Louis' catspaw. A month ago I might have marvelled that +he offered such a part to any gentleman; the illusions of youth and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_284" id="Page_284">[Pg 284]</a></span> +ignorance were melting fast; now I was left to ask why he had selected +one so humble for a place that great men held in those days with open +profit and without open shame; aye, and have held since. For although I +have lived to call myself a Whig, I do not hold that the devil left +England for good and all with the House of Stuart.</p> + +<p>We were on the quay now, and the little ship lay ready for us. A very +light breeze blew off the land, enough to carry us over if it held, but +promising a long passage; the weather was damp and misty. M. Colbert had +shrugged his shoulders over the prospect of a fog; his master would hear +of no delay, and the King had sent for Thomas Lie, a famous pilot of the +Cinque Ports, to go with us till the French coast should be sighted. The +two Kings were walking up and down together in eager and engrossed +conversation. Looking about, I perceived the figures of two women +standing near the edge of the water. I saw Colbert approach them and +enter into conversation; soon he came to me, and with the smoothest of +smiles bade me charge myself with the care of Mistress Quinton.</p> + +<p>"Madame," said he, "has sent a discreet and trustworthy waiting-woman +with her, but a lady needs a squire, and we are still hampered by +business." With which he went off to join his master, bestowing another +significant smile on me.</p> + +<p>I lost no time in approaching Barbara. The woman with her was stout and +short, having a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_285" id="Page_285">[Pg 285]</a></span> broad hard face; she stood by her charge square and +sturdy as a soldier on guard. Barbara acknowledged my salutation +stiffly; she was pale and seemed anxious, but in no great distress or +horror. But did she know what was planned for her or the part I was to +play? The first words she spoke showed me that she knew nothing, for +when I began to feel my way, saying: "The wind is fair for us," she +started, crying: "For us? Why, are you coming with us?"</p> + +<p>I glanced at the waiting-woman, who stood stolidly by.</p> + +<p>"She understands no English," said Barbara, catching my meaning. "You +can speak freely. Why are you coming?"</p> + +<p>"Nay, but why are you going?"</p> + +<p>She answered me with a touch of defiance in her voice.</p> + +<p>"The Duchess of York is to return with Madame on a visit to the French +Court, and I go to prepare for her coming."</p> + +<p>So this was the story by which they were inducing her to trust herself +in their hands. Doubtless they might have forced her, but deceit +furnished a better way. Yet agitation had mingled with defiance in her +voice. In an instant she went on:</p> + +<p>"You are coming, in truth are you? Don't jest with me."</p> + +<p>"Indeed I'm coming, madame. I hope my company is to your liking?"</p> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_286" id="Page_286">[Pg 286]</a></span></p> +<p>"But why, why?"</p> + +<p>"M. de Perrencourt has one answer to that question and I another."</p> + +<p>Her eyes questioned me, but she did not put her question into words. +With a little shiver she said:</p> + +<p>"I am glad to be quit of this place."</p> + +<p>"You're right in that," I answered gravely.</p> + +<p>Her cheek flushed, and her eyes fell to the ground.</p> + +<p>"Yes," she murmured.</p> + +<p>"But Dover Castle is not the only place where danger lies," said I.</p> + +<p>"Madame has sworn——" she began impetuously.</p> + +<p>"And M. de Perrencourt?" I interrupted.</p> + +<p>"He—he gave his word to his sister," she said in a very low voice. Then +she stretched her hand out towards me, whispering, "Simon, Simon!"</p> + +<p>I interpreted the appeal, although it was but an inarticulate cry, +witnessing to a fear of dangers unknown. The woman had edged a little +away, but still kept a careful watch. I paid no heed to her. I must give +my warning.</p> + +<p>"My services are always at your disposal, Mistress Barbara," said I, +"even without the right to them that M. de Perrencourt purposes to give +you."</p> + +<p>"I don't understand. How can he—Why, you wouldn't enter my service?"</p> + +<p>She laughed a little as she made this suggestion, but there was an +eagerness in her voice; my heart<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_287" id="Page_287">[Pg 287]</a></span> answered to it, for I saw that she +found comfort in the thought of my company.</p> + +<p>"M. de Perrencourt," said I, "purposes that I should enter your service, +and his also."</p> + +<p>"Mine and his?" she murmured, puzzled and alarmed.</p> + +<p>I did not know how to tell her; I was ashamed. But the last moments +fled, and she must know before we were at sea.</p> + +<p>"Yonder where we're going," I said, "the word of M. de Perrencourt is +law and his pleasure right."</p> + +<p>She took alarm, and her voice trembled.</p> + +<p>"He has promised—Madame told me," she stammered. "Ah, Simon, must I go? +Yet I should be worse here."</p> + +<p>"You must go. What can we do here? I go willingly."</p> + +<p>"For what?"</p> + +<p>"To serve you, if it be in my power. Will you listen?"</p> + +<p>"Quick, quick. Tell me!"</p> + +<p>"Of all that he swore, he will observe nothing. Hush, don't cry out. +Nothing."</p> + +<p>I feared that she would fall, for she reeled where she stood. I dared +not support her.</p> + +<p>"If he asks a strange thing, agree to it. It's the only way."</p> + +<p>"What? What will he ask?"</p> + +<p>"He will propose a husband to you."</p> + +<p>She tore at the lace wrapping about her throat<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_288" id="Page_288">[Pg 288]</a></span> as though it were +choking her; her eyes were fixed on mine. I answered her gaze with a +steady regard, and her cheek grew red with a hot blush.</p> + +<p>"His motive you may guess," said I. "There is convenience in a husband."</p> + +<p>I had put it at last plainly enough, and when I had said it I averted my +eyes from hers.</p> + +<p>"I won't go," I heard her gasp. "I'll throw myself at the King's feet."</p> + +<p>"He'll make a clever jest on you," said I bitterly.</p> + +<p>"I'll implore M. de Perrencourt——"</p> + +<p>"His answer will be—polite."</p> + +<p>For a while there was silence. Then she spoke again in a low whisper; +her voice now sounded hard and cold, and she stood rigid.</p> + +<p>"Who is the man?" she asked. Then she broke into a sudden passion, and, +forgetting caution, seized me by the arm, whispering, "Have you your +sword?"</p> + +<p>"Aye, it is here."</p> + +<p>"Will you use it for me?"</p> + +<p>"At your bidding."</p> + +<p>"Then use it on the body of the man."</p> + +<p>"I'm the man," said I.</p> + +<p>"You, Simon!"</p> + +<p>Now what a poor thing is this writing, and how small a fragment of truth +can it hold! "You, Simon!" The words are nothing, but they came from her +lips full-charged with wonder, most incredulous, yet coloured with +sudden hope of deliverance.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_289" id="Page_289">[Pg 289]</a></span> She doubted, yet she caught at the strange +chance. Nay, there was more still, but what I could not tell; for her +eyes lit up with a sudden sparkle, which shone a brief moment and then +was screened by drooping lids.</p> + +<p>"That is why I go," said I. "With M. de Perrencourt's favour and such a +lady for my wife I might climb high. So whispered M. de Perrencourt +himself."</p> + +<p>"You!" she murmured again; and again her cheek was red.</p> + +<p>"We must not reach Calais, if we can escape by the way. Be near me +always on the ship, fortune may give us a chance. And if we come to +Calais, be near me, while you can."</p> + +<p>"But if we can't escape?"</p> + +<p>I was puzzled by her. It must be that she found in my company new hope +of escape. Hence came the light in her eyes, and the agitation which +seemed to show excitement rather than fear. But I had no answer to her +question, "If we can't escape?"</p> + +<p>Had I been ready with fifty answers, time would have failed for one. M. +Colbert called to me. The King was embracing his guest for the last +time; the sails were spread; Thomas Lie was at the helm. I hastened to +obey M. Colbert's summons. He pointed to the King; going forward, I +knelt and kissed the hand extended to me. Then I rose and stood for a +moment, in case it should be the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_290" id="Page_290">[Pg 290]</a></span> King's pleasure to address me. M. de +Perrencourt was by his side.</p> + +<p>The King's face wore a smile and the smile broadened as he spoke to me.</p> + +<p>"You're a wilful man, Mr Dale," said he, "but fortune is more wilful +still. You would not woo her, therefore woman-like she loves you. You +were stubborn, but she is resolute to overcome your stubbornness. But +don't try her too far. She stands waiting for you open-armed. Isn't it +so, my brother?"</p> + +<p>"Your Majesty speaks no more than truth," answered M. de Perrencourt.</p> + +<p>"Will you accept her embraces?" asked the King.</p> + +<p>I bowed very low and raised my head with a cheerful and gay smile.</p> + +<p>"Most willingly," I answered.</p> + +<p>"And what of reservations, Mr. Dale?"</p> + +<p>"May it please your Majesty, they do not hold across the water."</p> + +<p>"Good. My brother is more fortunate than I. God be with you, Mr Dale."</p> + +<p>At that I smiled again. And the King smiled. My errand was a strange one +to earn a benediction.</p> + +<p>"Be off with you," he said with an impatient laugh. "A man must pick his +words in talking with you." A gesture of his hand dismissed me. I went +on board and watched him standing on the quay as Thomas Lie steered us +out of harbour and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_291" id="Page_291">[Pg 291]</a></span> laid us so as to catch the wind. As we moved, the +King turned and began to mount the hill.</p> + +<p>We moved, but slowly. For an hour we made way. All this while I was +alone on deck, except for the crew and Thomas Lie. The rest had gone +below; I had offered to follow, but a gesture from M. Colbert sent me +back. The sense of helplessness was on me, overwhelming and bitter. When +the time came for my part I should be sent for, until then none had need +of me. I could guess well enough what was passing below, and I found no +comfort in the knowledge of it. Up and down I walked quickly, as a man +torn and tormented with thoughts that his steps, however hasty, cannot +outstrip. The crew stared at me, the pilot himself spared a glance of +amused wonder at the man who strode to and fro so restlessly. Once I +paused at the stern of the ship, where Lie's boat, towed behind us, cut +through the water as a diamond cuts a pane of glass. For an instant I +thought of leaping in and making a bid for liberty alone. The strange +tone in which "You, Simon!" had struck home to my heart forbade me. But +I was sick with the world, and turned from the boat to gaze over the +sea. There is a power in the quiet water by night; it draws a man with a +promise of peace in the soft lap of forgetfulness. So strong is the +allurement that, though I count myself sane and of sound mind, I do not +love to look too long on the bosom of deep waters when the night is +full; for the doubt<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_292" id="Page_292">[Pg 292]</a></span> comes then whether to live is sanity and not rather +to die and have an end of the tossing of life and the unresting +dissatisfaction of our state. That night the impulse came on me +mightily, and I fought it, forcing myself to look, refusing the weakness +of flight from the seductive siren. For I was fenced round with troubles +and of a sore heart: there lay the open country and a heart at peace.</p> + +<p>Suddenly I gave a low exclamation; the water, which had fled from us as +we moved, seeming glad to pass us by and rush again on its race +undisturbed, stood still. From the swill came quiet, out of the shimmer +a mirror disentangled itself, and lay there on the sea, smooth and +bright. But it grew dull in an instant; I heard the sails flap, but saw +them no more. A dense white vapour settled on us, the length of my arm +bounded my sight, all movement ceased, and we lay on the water, inert +and idle. I leant beside the gunwale, feeling the fog moist on my face, +seeing in its baffling folds a type of the toils that bound and fettered +me. Now voices rose round me, and again fell; the crew questioned, the +captain urged; I heard Colbert's voice as he hurried on deck. The +sufficient answer was all around us; where the mist was there could be +no wind; in grumbling the voices died away.</p> + +<p>The rest of what passed seems even now a strange dream that I can hardly +follow, whose issue alone I know, which I can recover only dimly and +vaguely in my memory. I was there in the stern, leaning<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_293" id="Page_293">[Pg 293]</a></span> over, listening +to the soft sound of the sea as Thomas Lie's boat rolled lazily from +side to side and the water murmured gently under the gentle stroke. Then +came voices again just by my shoulder. I did not move. I knew the tones +that spoke, the persuasive commanding tones hard to resist, apt to +compel. Slowly I turned myself round; the speakers must be within eight +or ten feet of me, but I could not see them. Still they came nearer. +Then I heard the sound of a sob, and at it sprang to rigidity, poised on +ready feet, with my hand on the hilt of my sword.</p> + +<p>"You're weary now," said the smooth strong voice. "We will talk again in +the morning. From my heart I grieve to have distressed you. Come, we'll +find the gentleman whom you desire to speak with, and I'll trouble you +no more. Indeed I count myself fortunate in having asked my good brother +for one whose company is agreeable to you. For your sake, your friend +shall be mine. Come, I'll take you to him, and then leave you."</p> + +<p>Barbara's sobs ceased; I did not wonder that his persuasions won her to +repose and almost to trust. It seemed that the mist grew a little less +thick; I saw their figures. Knowing that at the same moment I must +myself be seen, I spoke on the instant.</p> + +<p>"I am here, at Mistress Quinton's service."</p> + +<p>M. de Perrencourt (to call him still by his chosen name) came forward +and groped his way to my arm, whispering in French,</p> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_294" id="Page_294">[Pg 294]</a></span></p> +<p>"All is easy. Be gentle with her. Why, she turns to you of her own +accord! All will go smoothly."</p> + +<p>"You may be sure of it, sir," I said. "Will you leave her with me?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," he answered. "I can trust you, can't I?"</p> + +<p>"I may be trusted to death," I answered, smiling behind the mist's kind +screen.</p> + +<p>Barbara was by his side now; with a bow he drew back. I traced him as he +went towards where Lie stood, and I heard a murmur of voices as he and +the helmsman spoke to one another. Then I heard no more, and lost sight +of him in the thick close darkness. I put out my hand and felt for +Barbara's; it came straight to mine.</p> + +<p>"You—you'll stay with me?" she murmured. "I'm frightened, Simon."</p> + +<p>As she spoke, I felt on my cheek the cold breath of the wind. Turning my +full face, I felt it more. The breeze was rising, the sails flapped +again, Thomas Lie's boat buffeted the waves with a quicker beat. When I +looked towards her, I saw her face, framed in mist, pale and wet with +tears, beseeching me. There at that moment, born in danger and nursed by +her helplessness, there came to me a new feeling, that was yet an old +one; now I knew that I would not leave her. Nay, for an instant I was +tempted to abandon all effort and drift on to the French shore, looking +there to play my own game, despite<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_295" id="Page_295">[Pg 295]</a></span> of her and despite of King Louis +himself. But the risk was too desperate.</p> + +<p>"No, I won't leave you," I said in low tones that trembled under the +fresh burden which they bore.</p> + +<p>But yes, the wind rose, the mist began to lift, the water was running +lazily from under our keel, the little boat bobbed and danced to a +leisurely tune.</p> + +<p>"The wind serves," cried Thomas Lie. "We shall make land in two hours if +it hold as it blows now."</p> + +<p>The plan was in my head. It was such an impulse as coming to a man seems +revelation and forbids all questioning of its authority. I held Barbara +still by the hand, and drew her to me. There, leaning over the gunwale, +we saw Thomas Lie's boat moving after us. His sculls lay ready. I looked +in her eyes, and was answered with wonder, perplexity, and dawning +intelligence.</p> + +<p>"I daren't let him carry you to Calais," I whispered; "we should be +helpless there."</p> + +<p>"But you—it's you."</p> + +<p>"As his tool and his fool," I muttered. Low as I spoke, she heard me, +and asked despairingly:</p> + +<p>"What then, Simon? What can we do?"</p> + +<p>"If I go there, will you jump into my arms? The distance isn't far."</p> + +<p>"Into the boat! Into your arms in the boat?"</p> + +<p>"Yes. I can hold you. There's a chance if we go now—now, before the +mist lifts more."</p> + +<p>"If we're seen?"</p> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_296" id="Page_296">[Pg 296]</a></span></p> +<p>"We're no worse off."</p> + +<p>"Yes, I'll jump, Simon."</p> + +<p>We were moving now briskly enough, though the wind came in fitful gusts +and with no steady blast, and the mist now lifted, now again swathed us +in close folds. I gripped Barbara's hand, whispering, "Be ready," and, +throwing one leg over the side, followed with the other, and dropped +gently into Thomas Lie's boat. It swayed under me, but it was broad in +the beam and rode high in the water; no harm happened. Then I stood +square in the bows and whispered "Now!" For the beating of my heart I +scarcely heard my own voice, but I spoke louder than I knew. At the same +instant that Barbara sprang into my arms, there was a rush of feet +across the deck, an oath rang loud in French, and another figure +appeared on the gunwale, with one leg thrown over. Barbara was in my +arms. I felt her trembling body cling to mine, but I disengaged her +grasp quickly and roughly—for gentleness asks time, and time had we +none—and set her down in the boat. Then I turned to the figure above +me. A momentary glance showed me the face of King Louis. I paid no more +heed, but drew my knife and flung myself on the rope that bound the boat +to the ship.</p> + +<p>Then the breeze dropped, and the fog fell thick and enveloping. My knife +was on the rope and I severed the strands with desperate strength. One +by one I felt them go. As the last went I raised my head.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_297" id="Page_297">[Pg 297]</a></span> From the ship +above me flashed the fire of a pistol, and a ball whistled by my ear. +Wild with excitement, I laughed derisively. The last strand was gone, +slowly the ship forged ahead; but then the man on the gunwale gathered +himself together and sprang across the water between us. He came full on +the top of me, and we fell together on the floor of the boat. By the +narrowest chance we escaped foundering, but the sturdy boat proved true. +I clutched my assailant with all my strength, pinning him arm to arm, +breast to breast, shoulder to shoulder. His breath was hot on my face. I +gasped "Row, row." From the ship came a sudden alarmed cry: "The boat, +the boat!" But already the ship grew dim and indistinct.</p> + +<p>"Row, row," I muttered; then I heard the sculls set in their tholes, and +with a slow faltering stroke the boat was guided away from the ship, +moving nearly at a right angle to it. I put out all my strength. I was +by far a bigger man than the King, and I did not spare him. I hugged him +with a bear's hug, and his strength was squeezed out of him. Now I was +on the top and he below. I twisted his pistol from his hand and flung it +overboard. Tumultuous cries came from the blurred mass that was the +ship; but the breeze had fallen, the fog was thick, they had no other +boat. The King lay still. "Give me the sculls," I whispered. Barbara +yielded them; her hands were cold as death when they encountered mine. +She scrambled into the stern. I dragged the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_298" id="Page_298">[Pg 298]</a></span> King back—he was like a +log now—till he lay with the middle of his body under the seat on which +I sat; his face looked up from between my feet. Then I fell to rowing, +choosing no course except that our way should be from the ship, and +ready, at any movement of the still form below me, to drop my sculls and +set my pistol at his head. Yet till that need came I bent lustily to my +work, and when I looked over the sea the ship was not to be seen, but +all around hung the white vapour, the friendly accomplice of my +enterprise.</p> + +<p>That leap of his was a gallant thing. He knew that I was his master in +strength, and that I stood where no motive of prudence could reach and +no fear restrain me. If I were caught, the grave or a French prison +would be my fate; to get clear off, he might suppose that I should count +even the most august life in Christendom well taken. Yet he had leapt, +and, before heaven, I feared that I had killed him. If it were so, I +must set Barbara in safety, and then follow him where he was gone; there +would be no place for me among living men, and I had better choose my +own end than be hunted to death like a mad dog. These thoughts spun +through my brain as my arms drove the blades into the water, on an +aimless course through the mist, till the mass of the ship utterly +disappeared, and we three were alone on the sea. Then the fear overcame +me. I rested on my oars, and leaning over to where Barbara sat in the +stern, I shaped with awe-struck<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_299" id="Page_299">[Pg 299]</a></span> lips the question—"Is he dead? My God, +is he dead?"</p> + +<p>She sat there, herself, as it seemed, half-dead. But at my words she +shivered and with an effort mastered her relaxed limbs. Slowly she +dropped on her knees by the King and raised his head in her arms. She +felt in her bosom and drew out a flask of salts, which she set to his +nostrils. I watched his face; the muscles of it contracted into a +grimace, then were smoothed again to calmness; he opened his eyes. +"Thank God," I muttered to myself; and the peril to him being gone by, I +remembered our danger, and taking out my pistol looked to it, and sat +dangling it in my hand.</p> + +<p>Barbara, still supporting the King's head, looked up at me.</p> + +<p>"What will become of us?" she asked.</p> + +<p>"At least we shan't be married in Calais," I answered with a grim smile.</p> + +<p>"No," she murmured, and bent again over the King.</p> + +<p>Now his eyes were wide-opened, and I fixed mine on them. I saw the +return of consciousness and intelligence; the quick glance that fell on +me, on the oars, on the pistol in my hand, witnessed to it. Then he +raised himself on his elbow, Barbara drawing quickly away, and so rested +an instant, regarding me still. He drew himself up into a sitting +posture, and seemed as though he would rise to his feet. I raised the +pistol and pointed it at him.</p> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_300" id="Page_300">[Pg 300]</a></span></p> +<p>"No higher, if you please," said I. "It's a matter of danger to walk +about in so small a boat, and you came near to upsetting us before."</p> + +<p>He turned his head and saw Barbara, then gazed round on the sea. No sail +was to be seen, and the fog still screened the boat in impenetrable +solitude. The sight brought to his mind a conviction of what his plight +was. Yet no dismay nor fear showed in his face. He sat there, regarding +me with an earnest curiosity. At last he spoke.</p> + +<p>"You were deluding me all the time?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"Even so," said I, with an inclination of my head.</p> + +<p>"You did not mean to take my offer?"</p> + +<p>"Since I am a gentleman, I did not."</p> + +<p>"I also am accounted a gentleman, sir."</p> + +<p>"Nay, I took you for a prince," said I.</p> + +<p>He made me no answer, but, looking round him again, observed:</p> + +<p>"The ship must be near. But for this cursed fog she would be in sight."</p> + +<p>"It's well for us she isn't," I said.</p> + +<p>"Why, sir?" he asked brusquely.</p> + +<p>"If she were, there's the pistol for the lady, and this sword here for +you and me," said I coolly. For a man may contrive to speak coolly, +though his bearing be a lie and his heart beat quick.</p> + +<p>"You daren't," he cried in amazement.</p> + +<p>"I should be unwilling," I conceded.</p> + +<p>For an instant there was silence. Then came Barbara's voice, soft and +fearful:</p> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_301" id="Page_301">[Pg 301]</a></span></p> +<p>"Simon, the fog lifts."</p> + +<p>It was true. The breeze blew and the fog lifted. Louis' eyes sparkled. +All three of us, by one impulse, looked round on the sea. The fresh wind +struck my cheek, and the enveloping folds curled lazily away. Barbara +held up her hand and pointed. Away on the right, dimly visible, just +detached from the remaining clouds of mist, was a dark object, sitting +high on the water. A ship it was, in all likelihood the king's ship. We +should be sighted soon. My eyes met the King's and his were exultant and +joyful; he did not yet believe that I would do what I had said, and he +thought that the trap closed on us again. For still the mist rose, and +in a few moments they on the ship must see us.</p> + +<p>"You shall pay for your trick," he said between his teeth.</p> + +<p>"It is very likely," said I. "But I think that the debt will be paid to +your Majesty's successor."</p> + +<p>Still he did not believe. I burst into a laugh of grim amusement. These +great folk find it hard to understand how sometimes their greatness is +nothing, and the thing is man to man; but now and then fortune takes a +whim and teaches them the lesson for her sport.</p> + +<p>"But since you are a King," said I, "you shall have your privilege. You +shall pass out before the lady. See, the ship is very plain now. Soon we +shall be plain to the ship. Come, sir, you go first."</p> + +<p>He looked at me, now puzzled and alarmed.</p> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_302" id="Page_302">[Pg 302]</a></span></p> +<p>"I am unarmed," he said.</p> + +<p>"It is no fight," I answered. Then I turned to Barbara. "Go and sit in +the stern," I said, "and cover your face with your hands."</p> + +<p>"Simon, Simon," she moaned, but she obeyed me, and threw herself down, +burying her face in her hands. I turned to the king.</p> + +<p>"How will you die, sir?" said I quietly, and, as I believe, in a civil +manner.</p> + +<p>A sudden shout rang in my ears. I would not look away from him, lest he +should spring on me or fling himself from the boat. But I knew whence +the shout came, for it was charged with joy and the relief of unbearable +anxiety. The ship was the King's ship and his servants had seen their +master. Yet they would not dare to fire without his orders, and with the +risk of killing him; therefore I was easy concerning musket shot. But we +must not come near enough for a voice to be heard from us, and a pistol +to carry to us.</p> + +<p>"How will you die?" I asked again. His eyes questioned me. I added, "As +God lives I will." And I smiled at him.</p> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_303" id="Page_303">[Pg 303]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XVII" id="CHAPTER_XVII"></a>CHAPTER XVII</h2> + +<h3>WHAT BEFELL MY LAST GUINEA</h3> + + +<p>There is this in great station, that it imparts to a man a bearing +sedate in good times and debonair in evil. A king may be unkinged, as +befell him whom in my youth we called the Royal Martyr, but he need not +be unmanned. He has tasted of what men count the best, and, having found +even in it much bitterness, turns to greet fortune's new caprice smiling +or unmoved. Thus it falls out that though princes live no better lives +than common men, yet for the most part they die more noble deaths; their +sunset paints all their sky, and we remember not how they bore their +glorious burden, but with what grace they laid it down. Much is forgiven +to him who dies becomingly, and on earth, as in heaven, there is pardon +for the parting soul. Are we to reject what we are taught that God +receives? I have need enough of forgiveness to espouse the softer +argument.</p> + +<p>Now King Louis, surnamed the Great, having more matters in his head than +the scheme I thought to baffle, and (to say truth) more ladies in his +heart than Barbara Quinton, was not minded to die for the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_304" id="Page_304">[Pg 304]</a></span> one or the +other. But had you been there (which Heaven for your sake forbid, I have +passed many a pleasanter night), you would have sworn that death or life +weighed not a straw in the balance with him, and that he had no thought +save of the destiny God had marked for him and the realm that called him +master. So lofty and serene he was, when he perceived my resolution and +saw my pistol at his head. On my faith, the victory was mine, but he +robbed me of my triumph, and he, submitting, seemed to put terms on me +who held him at my mercy. It is all a trick, no doubt; they get it in +childhood, as (I mean no harm by my comparisons) the beggar's child +learns to whine or the thief's to pick. Yet it is pretty. I wish I had +it.</p> + +<p>"In truth," said he with a smile that had not a trace of wryness, "I +have chosen my means ill for this one time, though they say that I +choose well. Well, God rules the world."</p> + +<p>"By deputy, sir," said I.</p> + +<p>"And deputies don't do His will always? Come, Mr Dale, for this hour you +hold the post and fill it well. Wear this for my sake"; and he handed +across to me a dagger with a handle richly wrought and studded with +precious stones.</p> + +<p>I bowed low; yet I kept my finger on the trigger.</p> + +<p>"Man, I give you my word, though not in words," said he, and I, rebuked, +set my weapon back in its place. "Alas, for a sad moment!" he cried. "I +must bid farewell to Mistress Barbara. Yet (this<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_305" id="Page_305">[Pg 305]</a></span> he added, turning to +her) life is long, madame, and has many changes. I pray you may never +need friends, but should you, there is one ready so long as Louis is +King of France. Call on him by the token of his ring and count him your +humble servant." With this he stripped his finger of a fine brilliant, +and, sinking on his knee in the boat, took her hand very delicately, +and, having set the ring on her finger, kissed her hand, sighed lightly +yet gallantly, and rose with his eyes set on the ship.</p> + +<p>"Row me to her," he commanded me, shortly but not uncivilly; and I, who +held his life in my hands, sat down obediently and bent to my oars. In +faith, I wish I had that air, it's worth a fortune to a man!</p> + +<p>Soon we came to the side of the ship. Over it looked the face of +Colbert, amazed that I had stolen his King, and the face of Thomas Lie, +indignant that I had made free with his boat; by them were two or three +of the crew agape with wonder. King Louis paid no respect to their +feelings and stayed their exclamations with a gesture of his hand. He +turned to me, saying in low tones and with a smile,</p> + +<p>"You must make your own terms with my brother, sir. It has been hard +fighting between us, and I am in no mood for generosity."</p> + +<p>I did not know what to answer him, but I stammered:</p> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_306" id="Page_306">[Pg 306]</a></span></p> +<p>"I ask nothing but that your Majesty should remember me as an honest +man."</p> + +<p>"And a brave gentleman," he added gravely, with a slight inclination of +his head. Then he turned to Barbara and took her hand again, bowing low +and saying, "Madame, I had meant you much good in my heart, and my state +forced me to mean you some evil. I pray you remember the one and forget +the other." He kissed her hand again with a fine grace. It was a fair +sounding apology for a thing beyond defence. I admired while I smiled.</p> + +<p>But Barbara did not smile. She looked up in his face, then dropped on +her knees in the boat and caught his hand, kissing it twice and trying +to speak to him. He stood looking down on her; then he said softly, "Yet +I have forgiven your friend," and gently drew his hand away. I stood up, +baring my head. He faced round on me and said abruptly, "This affair is +between you and me, sir."</p> + +<p>"I am obedient to a command I did not need," said I.</p> + +<p>"Your pardon. Cover your head. I do not value outward signs of respect +where the will is wanting. Fare you well."</p> + +<p>At a sign from him Colbert stretched out a hand. Not a question, not a +word, scarcely now a show of wonder came from any, save honest Lie, +whose eyes stood out of his head and whose tongue was still only because +it could not speak. The King leapt lightly on the deck of his ship.</p> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_307" id="Page_307">[Pg 307]</a></span></p> +<p>"You'll be paid for the boat," I heard him say to Lie. "Make all sail +for Calais."</p> + +<p>None spoke to him, none questioned him. He saw no need for explanation +and accorded no enlightenment. I marvelled that fear or respect for any +man could so bind their tongues. The King waved them away; Lie alone +hesitated, but Colbert caught him by the arm and drew him off to the +helm. The course was given, and the ship forged ahead. The King stood in +the stern. Now he raised his hat from his head and bowed low to Mistress +Barbara. I turned to see how she took the salutation; but her face was +downcast, resting on her hands. I stood and lifted my hat; then I sat +down to the oars. I saw King Louis' set courtly smile, and as our ways +parted asunder, his to France, where he ruled, mine to England where I +prayed nothing but a hiding-place, we sent into one another's eyes a +long look as of men who have measured strength, and part each in his own +pride, each in respect for the powers of his enemy. In truth it was +something to have played a winning hand with the Most Christian King. +With regret I watched him go; though I could not serve him in his +affairs of love, I would gladly have fought for him in his wars.</p> + +<p>We were alone now on the sea; dawn was breaking and the sky cleared till +the cliffs were dimly visible behind us. I pulled the boat round, and +set her head for home. Barbara sat in the stern, pale and still, +exhausted by the efforts and emotion of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_308" id="Page_308">[Pg 308]</a></span> the night. The great peril and +her great salvation left her numb rather than thankful; and in truth, if +she looked into the future, her joy must be dashed with sore +apprehension. M. de Perrencourt was gone, the Duke of Monmouth remained; +till she could reach her father I was her only help, and I dared not +show my face in Dover. But these thoughts were for myself, not for her, +and seeking to cheer her I leant forward and said,</p> + +<p>"Courage, Mistress Barbara." And I added, "At least we shan't be +married, you and I, in Calais."</p> + +<p>She started a little, flushed a little, and answered gravely,</p> + +<p>"We owe Heaven thanks for a great escape, Simon."</p> + +<p>It was true, and the knowledge of its truth had nerved us to the attempt +so marvellously crowned with success. Great was the escape from such a +marriage, made for such purposes as King Louis had planned. Yet some +feeling shot through me, and I gave it voice in saying,</p> + +<p>"Nay, but we might have escaped after the marriage also."</p> + +<p>Barbara made no reply; for it was none to say, "The cliffs grow very +plain."</p> + +<p>"But that wouldn't have served our turn," I added with a laugh. "You +would have come out of the business saddled with a sore encumbrance."</p> + +<p>"Shall you go to Dover?" asked Barbara, seeming to pay no heed to all +that I had been saying.</p> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_309" id="Page_309">[Pg 309]</a></span></p> +<p>"Where God pleases," I answered rather peevishly. "Her head's to the +land, and I'll row straight to land. The land is safer than the sea."</p> + +<p>"No place is safe?"</p> + +<p>"None," I answered. But then, repenting of my surliness, I added, "And +none so perilous that you need fear, Mistress Barbara."</p> + +<p>"I don't fear while you're with me, Simon," said she. "You won't leave +me till we find my father?"</p> + +<p>"Surely not," said I. "Is it your pleasure to seek him?"</p> + +<p>"As speedily as we can," she murmured. "He's in London. Even the King +won't dare to touch me when I'm with him."</p> + +<p>"To London, then!" I said. "Can you make out the coast?"</p> + +<p>"There's a little bay just ahead where the cliff breaks; and I see Dover +Castle away on my left hand."</p> + +<p>"We'll make for the bay," said I, "and then seek means to get to +London."</p> + +<p>Even as I spoke a sudden thought struck me. I laid down my oars and +sought my purse. Barbara was not looking at me, but gazed in a dreamy +fashion towards where the Castle rose on its cliff. I opened the purse; +it held a single guinea; the rest of my store lay with my saddle-bags in +the French King's ship; my head had been too full to think of them. +There is none of life's small matters that so irks a man as to confess +that he has no money for<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_310" id="Page_310">[Pg 310]</a></span> necessary charges, and it is most sore when a +lady looks to him for hers. I, who had praised myself for forgetting how +to blush, went red as a cock's comb and felt fit to cry with +mortification. A guinea would feed us on the road to London if we fared +plainly; but Barbara could not go on her feet.</p> + +<p>Her eyes must have come back to my sullen downcast face, for in a moment +she cried, "What's the matter, Simon?"</p> + +<p>Perhaps she carried money. Well then, I must ask for it. I held out my +guinea in my hand.</p> + +<p>"It's all I have," said I. "King Louis has the rest."</p> + +<p>She gave a little cry of dismay. "I hadn't thought of money," she cried.</p> + +<p>"I must beg of you."</p> + +<p>"Ah, but, Simon, I have none. I gave my purse to the waiting-woman to +carry, so that mine also is in the French King's ship."</p> + +<p>Here was humiliation! Our fine schemes stood blocked for the want of so +vulgar a thing as money; such fate waits often on fine schemes, but +surely never more perversely. Yet, I know not why, I was glad that she +had none. I was a guinea the better of her; the amount was not large, +but it served to keep me still her Providence, and that, I fear, is what +man, in his vanity, loves to be in woman's eyes; he struts and plumes +himself in the pride of it. I had a guinea, and Barbara had nothing. I +had sooner it were so than that she had a hundred.</p> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_311" id="Page_311">[Pg 311]</a></span></p> +<p>But to her came no such subtle consolation. To lack money was a new +horror, untried, undreamt of; the thing had come to her all her days in +such measure as she needed it, its want had never thwarted her desires +or confined her purpose. To lack the price of post-horses seemed to her +as strange as to go fasting for want of bread.</p> + +<p>"What shall we do?" she cried in a dismay greater than all the perils of +the night had summoned to her heart.</p> + +<p>We had about us wealth enough; Louis' dagger was in my belt, his ring on +her finger. Yet of what value were they, since there was nobody to buy +them? To offer such wares in return for a carriage would seem strange +and draw suspicion. I doubted whether even in Dover I should find a Jew +with whom to pledge my dagger, and to Dover in broad day I dared not go.</p> + +<p>I took up my oars and set again to rowing. The shore was but a mile or +two away. The sun shone now and the light was full, the little bay +seemed to smile at me as I turned my head; but all smiles are short for +a man who has but a guinea in his purse.</p> + +<p>"What shall we do?" asked Barbara again. "Is there nobody to whom you +can go, Simon?"</p> + +<p>There seemed nobody. Buckingham I dared not trust, he was in Monmouth's +interest; Darrell had called himself my friend, but he was the servant +of Lord Arlington, and my lord the Secretary was not<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_312" id="Page_312">[Pg 312]</a></span> a man to trust. My +messenger would guide my enemies and my charge be put in danger.</p> + +<p>"Is there nobody, Simon?" she implored.</p> + +<p>There was one, one who would aid me with merry willingness and, had she +means at the moment, with lavish hand. The thought had sprung to my mind +as Barbara spoke. If I could come safely and secretly to a certain house +in a certain alley in the town of Dover, I could have money for the sake +of old acquaintance, and what had once been something more, between her +and me. But would Barbara take largesse from that hand? I am a coward +with women; ignorance is fear's mother and, on my life, I do not know +how they will take this thing or that, with scorn or tears or shame or +what, or again with some surprising turn of softness and (if I may make +bold to say it) a pliability of mind to which few of us men lay claim +and none give honour. But the last mood was not Barbara's, and, as I +looked at her, I dared not tell her where lay my only hope of help in +Dover. I put my wits to work how I could win the aid for her, and keep +the hand a secret. Such deception would sit lightly on my conscience.</p> + +<p>"I am thinking," I replied to her, "whether there is anyone, and how I +might reach him, if there is."</p> + +<p>"Surely there's someone who would serve you and whom you could trust?" +she urged.</p> + +<p>"Would you trust anyone whom I trust?" I asked.</p> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_313" id="Page_313">[Pg 313]</a></span></p> +<p>"In truth, yes."</p> + +<p>"And would you take the service if I would?"</p> + +<p>"Am I so rich that I can choose?" she said piteously.</p> + +<p>"I have your promise to it?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," she answered with no hesitation, nay, with a readiness that made +me ashamed of my stratagem. Yet, as Barbara said, beggars cannot be +choosers even in their stratagems, and, if need were, I must hold her to +her word.</p> + +<p>Now we were at the land and the keel of our boat grated on the shingle. +We disembarked under the shadow of the cliffs at the eastern end of the +bay; all was solitude, save for a little house standing some way back +from the sea, half-way up the cliff, on a level platform cut in the face +of the rock. It seemed a fisherman's cottage; thence might come +breakfast, and for so much our guinea would hold good. There was a +recess in the cliffs, and here I bade Barbara sit and rest herself, +sheltered from view on either side, while I went forward to try my luck +at the cottage. She seemed reluctant to be left, but obeyed me, standing +and watching while I took my way, which I chose cautiously, keeping +myself as much within the shadow as might be. I had sooner not have +ventured this much exposure, but it is ill to face starvation for +safety's sake.</p> + +<p>The cottage lay but a hundred yards off, and soon I approached it. It +was hard on six o'clock now, and I looked to find the inmates up and +stirring.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_314" id="Page_314">[Pg 314]</a></span> I wondered also whether Monmouth were gone to await Barbara +and myself at the Merry Mariners in Deal; alas, we were too near the +trysting-place! Or had he heard by now that the bird was flown from his +lure and caged by that M. de Perrencourt who had treated him so +cavalierly? I could not tell. Here was the cottage; but I stood still +suddenly, amazed and cautious. For there, in the peaceful morning, in +the sun's kindly light, there lay across the threshold the body of a +man; his eyes, wide-opened, stared at the sky, but seemed to see nothing +of what they gazed at; his brown coat was stained to a dark rusty hue on +the breast, where a gash in the stuff showed the passage of a sword. His +hand clasped a long knife, and his face was known to me. I had seen it +daily at my uprising and lying-down. The body was that of Jonah Wall, in +the flesh my servant, in spirit the slave of Phineas Tate, whose +teaching had brought him to this pass.</p> + +<p>The sight bred in me swift horror and enduring caution. The two Dukes +had been despatched, sorely against their will, in chase of this man. +Was it to their hands that he had yielded up his life and by their doing +that he lay like carrion? It might well be that he had sought refuge in +this cottage, and having found there death, not comfort, had been flung +forth a corpse. I pitied him; although he had been party to a plot which +had well nigh caused my own death and taken no account of my honour, yet +I was sorry for him. He had been about<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_315" id="Page_315">[Pg 315]</a></span> me; I grieved for him as for the +cat on my hearth. Well, now in death he warned me; it was some +recompense; I lifted my hat as I stole by him and slunk round to the +side of the house. There was a window there, or rather a window-frame, +for glass there was none; it stood some six feet from the ground and I +crouched beneath it, for I now heard voices in the cottage.</p> + +<p>"I wish the rascal hadn't fought," said one voice. "But he flew at me +like a tiger, and I had much ado to stop him. I was compelled to run him +through."</p> + +<p>"Yet he might have served me alive," said another.</p> + +<p>"Your Grace is right. For although we hate these foul schemes, the men +had the root of the matter in them."</p> + +<p>"They were no Papists, at least," said the second voice.</p> + +<p>"But the King will be pleased."</p> + +<p>"Oh, a curse on the King, although he's what he is to me! Haven't you +heard? When I returned to the Castle from my search on the other side of +the town, seeking you or Buckingham—by the way, where is he?"</p> + +<p>"Back in his bed, I warrant, sir."</p> + +<p>"The lazy dog! Well then, they told me she was gone with Louis. I rode +on to tell you, for, said I, the King may hunt his conspirators himself +now. But who went with them?"</p> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_316" id="Page_316">[Pg 316]</a></span></p> +<p>"Your Grace will wonder if I say Simon Dale was the man?"</p> + +<p>"The scoundrel! It was he! He has deluded us most handsomely. He was in +Louis' pay, and Louis has a use for him! I'll slit the knave's throat if +I get at him."</p> + +<p>"I pray your Grace's leave to be the first man at him."</p> + +<p>"In truth I'm much obliged to you, my Lord Carford," said I to myself +under the window.</p> + +<p>"There's no use in going to Deal," cried Monmouth. "Oh, I wish I had the +fellow here! She's gone, Carford; God's curse on it, she's gone! The +prettiest wench at Court! Louis has captured her. 'Fore heaven, if only +I were a King!"</p> + +<p>"Heaven has its own times, sir," said Carford insidiously. But the Duke, +suffering from disappointed desire, was not to be led to affairs of +State.</p> + +<p>"She's gone," he exclaimed again. "By God, sooner than lose her, I'd +have married her."</p> + +<p>This speech made me start. She was near him; what if she had been as +near him as I, and had heard those words? A pang shot through me, and, +of its own accord, my hand moved to my sword-hilt.</p> + +<p>"She is beneath your Grace's station. The spouse of your Grace may one +day be——" Carford interrupted himself with a laugh, and added, "What +God wills."</p> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_317" id="Page_317">[Pg 317]</a></span></p> +<p>"So may Anne Hyde," exclaimed the Duke. "But I forget. You yourself had +marked her."</p> + +<p>"I am your Grace's humble servant always," answered Carford smoothly.</p> + +<p>Monmouth laughed. Carford had his pay, no doubt, and I trust it was +large; for he heard quietly a laugh that called him what King Louis had +graciously proposed to make of me. I am glad when men who live by dirty +ways are made to eat dirt.</p> + +<p>"And my father," said the Duke, "is happy. She is gone, Quérouaille +stays; why, he's so enamoured that he has charged Nell to return to +London to-day, or at the latest by to-morrow, lest the French lady's +virtue should be offended."</p> + +<p>At this both laughed, Monmouth at his father, Carford at his King.</p> + +<p>"What's that?" cried the Duke an instant later.</p> + +<p>Now what disturbed him was no other than a most imprudent exclamation +wrung from me by what I heard; it must have reached them faintly, yet it +was enough. I heard their swords rattle and their spurs jingle as they +sprang to their feet. I slipped hastily behind the cottage. But by good +luck at this instant came other steps. As the Duke and Carford ran to +the door, the owner of the cottage (as I judged him to be) walked up, +and Carford cried:</p> + +<p>"Ah, the fisherman! Come, sir, we'll make him show us the nearest way. +Have you fed the horses, fellow?"</p> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_318" id="Page_318">[Pg 318]</a></span></p> +<p>"They have been fed, my lord, and are ready," was the answer.</p> + +<p>I did not hear more speech, but only (to my relief) the tramp of feet as +the three went off together. I stole cautiously out and watched them +heading for the top of the cliff. Jonah Wall lay still where he was, and +when the retreating party were out of sight I did not hesitate to search +his body for money. I had supplied his purse, but now his purse was +emptier than mine. Then I stepped into the cottage, seeking not money +but food. Fortune was kinder here and rewarded me with a pasty, +half-eaten, and a jug of ale. By the side of these lay, left by the Duke +in his wonted profusion, a guinea. The Devil has whimsical ways; I +protest that the temptation I suffered here was among the strongest of +my life! I could repay the fellow some day; two guineas would be by far +more than twice as much as one. Yet I left the pleasant golden thing +there, carrying off only the pasty and the ale; as for the jug—a man +must not stand on nice scruples, and Monmouth's guinea would more than +pay for all.</p> + +<p>I made my way quickly back to Barbara with the poor spoils of my +expedition. I rounded the bluff of cliff that protected her +hiding-place. Again I stood amazed, asking if fortune had more tricks in +her bag for me. The recess was empty. But a moment later I was +reassured; a voice called to me, and I saw her some thirty yards away, +down on the sea-beach. I set down pasty and jug and turned<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_319" id="Page_319">[Pg 319]</a></span> to watch. +Then I perceived what went on; white feet were visible in the shallow +water, twinkling in and out as the tide rolled up and back.</p> + +<p>"I had best employ myself in making breakfast ready," said I, turning my +back. But she called out to me again, saying how delightful was the cool +water. So I looked, and saw her gay and merry. Her hat was in her hand +now, and her hair blew free in the breeze. She had given herself up to +the joy of the moment. I rejoiced in a feeling which I could not share; +the rebound from the strain of the night left me sad and apprehensive. I +sat down and rested my head on my hands, waiting till she came back. +When she came, she would not take the food I offered her, but stood a +moment, looking at me with puzzled eyes, before she seated herself near.</p> + +<p>"You're sad," she said, almost as though in accusation.</p> + +<p>"Could I be otherwise, Mistress Barbara?" I asked. "We're in some +danger, and, what's worse, we've hardly a penny."</p> + +<p>"But we've escaped the greatest peril," she reminded me.</p> + +<p>"True, for the moment."</p> + +<p>"We—you won't be married to-night," she laughed, with rising colour, +and turning away as though a tuft of rank grass by her had caught her +attention and for some hidden reason much deserved it.</p> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_320" id="Page_320">[Pg 320]</a></span></p> +<p>"By God's help we've come out of that snare," said I gravely.</p> + +<p>She said nothing for a moment or two; then she turned to me again, +asking,</p> + +<p>"If your friend furnishes money, can we reach London in two days?"</p> + +<p>"I'm sorry," I answered, "but the journey will need nearer three, unless +we travel at the King's pace or the Duke of Monmouth's."</p> + +<p>"You needn't come all the way with me. Set me safe on the road, and go +where your business calls you."</p> + +<p>"For what crime is this punishment?" I asked with a smile.</p> + +<p>"No, I'm serious. I'm not seeking a compliment from you. I see that +you're sad. You have been very kind to me, Simon. You risked life and +liberty to save me."</p> + +<p>"Well, who could do less? Besides, I had given my promise to my lord +your father."</p> + +<p>She made no reply, and I, desiring to warn her against every danger, +related what had passed at the cottage, omitting only Monmouth's +loudmouthed threats against myself. At last, moved by some impulse of +curiosity rather than anything higher, I repeated how the Duke had said +that, sooner than lose her altogether, he would have married her, and +how my Lord Carford had been still his humble servant in this project as +in any other. She flushed again as she heard me, and plucked her tuft of +grass.</p> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_321" id="Page_321">[Pg 321]</a></span></p> +<p>"Indeed," I ended, "I believe his Grace spoke no more than the truth; +I've never seen a man more in love."</p> + +<p>"And you know well what it is to be in love, don't you?"</p> + +<p>"Very well," I answered calmly, although I thought that the taunt might +have been spared. "Therefore it may well be that some day I shall kiss +the hand of her Grace the Duchess."</p> + +<p>"You think I desire it?" she asked.</p> + +<p>"I think most ladies would."</p> + +<p>"I don't desire it." She sprang up and stamped her foot on the ground, +crying again, "Simon, I do not desire it. I wouldn't be his wife. You +smile! You don't believe me?"</p> + +<p>"No offer is refused until it's made," said I, and, with a bow that +asked permission, I took a draught of the ale.</p> + +<p>She looked at me in great anger, her cheek suffused with underlying red +and her dark eyes sparkling.</p> + +<p>"I wish you hadn't saved me," she said in a fury.</p> + +<p>"That we had gone forward to Calais?" I asked maliciously.</p> + +<p>"Sir, you're insolent." She flung the reproof at me like a stone from a +catapult. But then she repeated, "I wouldn't be his wife."</p> + +<p>"Well, then, you wouldn't," said I, setting down the jug and rising. +"How shall we pass the day? For we mustn't go to Dover till nightfall."</p> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_322" id="Page_322">[Pg 322]</a></span></p> +<p>"I must be all day here with you?" she cried in visible consternation.</p> + +<p>"You must be all day here, but you needn't be with me. I'll go down to +the beach; I shall be within hail if need arises, and you can rest here +alone."</p> + +<p>"Thank you, Simon," she answered with a most sudden and wonderful +meekness.</p> + +<p>Without more, I took my way to the seashore and lay down on the +sun-warmed shingle. Being very weary and without sleep now for +six-and-thirty hours, I soon closed my eyes, keeping the pistol ready by +my side. I slept peacefully and without a dream; the sun was high in +heaven when, with a yawn and a stretching of my limbs, I awoke. I heard, +as I opened my eyes, a little rustling as of somebody moving; my hand +flew to the butt of my pistol. But when I turned round I saw Barbara +only. She was sitting a little way behind me, looking out over the sea. +Feeling my gaze she looked round.</p> + +<p>"I grew afraid, left all alone," she said in a timid voice.</p> + +<p>"Alas, I snored when I should have been on guard!" I exclaimed.</p> + +<p>"You didn't snore," she cried. "I—I mean not in the last few moments. I +had only just come near you. I'm afraid I spoke unkindly to you."</p> + +<p>"I hadn't given a thought to it," I hastened to assure her.</p> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_323" id="Page_323">[Pg 323]</a></span></p> +<p>"You were indifferent to what I said?" she cried.</p> + +<p>I rose to my feet and made her a bow of mock ceremony. My rest had put +me in heart again, and I was in a mood to be merry.</p> + +<p>"Nay, madame," said I, "you know that I am your devoted servant, and +that all I have in the world is held at your disposal."</p> + +<p>She looked sideways at me, then at the sea again.</p> + +<p>"By heaven, it's true!" I cried. "All I have is yours. See!" I took out +my precious guinea, and bending on my knee with uncovered head presented +it to Mistress Barbara.</p> + +<p>She turned her eyes down to it and sat regarding it for a moment.</p> + +<p>"It's all I have, but it's yours," said I most humbly.</p> + +<p>"Mine?"</p> + +<p>"Most heartily."</p> + +<p>She lifted it from my palm with finger and thumb very daintily, and, +before I knew what she was doing, or could have moved to hinder her if I +had the mind, she raised her arm over her head and with all her strength +flung the guinea into the sparkling waves.</p> + +<p>"Heaven help us!" I cried.</p> + +<p>"It was mine. That's what I chose to do with it," said Barbara.</p> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_324" id="Page_324">[Pg 324]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XVIII" id="CHAPTER_XVIII"></a>CHAPTER XVIII</h2> + +<h3>SOME MIGHTY SILLY BUSINESS</h3> + + +<p>"In truth, madame," said I, "it's the wont of your sex. As soon as a +woman knows a thing to be hers entirely, she'll fling it away." With +this scrap of love's lore and youth's philosophy I turned my back on my +companion, and having walked to where the battered pasty lay beside the +empty jug sat down in high dudgeon. Barbara's eyes were set on the spot +where the guinea had been swallowed by the waves, and she took no heed +of my remark nor of my going.</p> + +<p>Say that my pleasantry was misplaced, say that she was weary and +strained beyond her power, say what you will in excuse, I allow it all. +Yet it was not reason to fling my last guinea into the sea. A flash of +petulance is well enough and may become beauty as summer lightning decks +the sky, but fury is for termagants, and nought but fury could fling my +last guinea to the waves. The offence, if offence there were, was too +small for so monstrous an outburst. Well, if she would quarrel, I was +ready; I had no patience with such tricks; they weary a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_325" id="Page_325">[Pg 325]</a></span> man of sense; +women serve their turn ill by using them. Also I had done her some small +service. I would die sooner than call it to her mind, but it would have +been a grace in her to remember it.</p> + +<p>The afternoon came, grew to its height, and waned as I lay, back to sea +and face to cliff, thinking now of all that had passed, now of what was +before me, sparing a moment's fitful sorrow for the poor wretch who lay +dead there by the cottage door, but returning always in resentful mood +to my lost guinea and Barbara's sore lack of courtesy. If she needed me, +I was ready; but heaven forbid that I should face fresh rebuffs by +seeking her! I would do my duty to her and redeem my pledge. More could +not now be looked for, nay, by no possibility could be welcome; to keep +away from her was to please her best. It was well, for in that her mind +jumped with mine. In two hours now we could set out for Dover.</p> + +<p>"Simon, I'm hungry."</p> + +<p>The voice came from behind my shoulder, a yard or two away, a voice very +meek and piteous, eloquent of an exhaustion and a weakness so great +that, had they been real, she must have fallen by me, not stood upright +on her feet. Against such stratagems I would be iron. I paid no heed, +but lay like a log.</p> + +<p>"Simon, I'm very thirsty too."</p> + +<p>Slowly I gathered myself up and, standing, bowed.</p> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_326" id="Page_326">[Pg 326]</a></span></p> +<p>"There's a fragment of the pasty," said I; "but the jug is empty."</p> + +<p>I did not look in her face and I knew she did not look in mine.</p> + +<p>"I can't eat without drinking," she murmured.</p> + +<p>"I have nothing with which to buy liquor, and there's nowhere to buy +it."</p> + +<p>"But water, Simon? Ah, but I mustn't trouble you."</p> + +<p>"I'll go to the cottage and seek some."</p> + +<p>"But that's dangerous."</p> + +<p>"You shall come to no hurt."</p> + +<p>"But you?"</p> + +<p>"Indeed I need a draught for myself. I should have gone after one in any +case."</p> + +<p>There was a pause, then Barbara said:</p> + +<p>"I don't want it. My thirst has passed away."</p> + +<p>"Will you take the pasty?"</p> + +<p>"No, my hunger is gone too."</p> + +<p>I bowed again. We stood in silence for a moment.</p> + +<p>"I'll walk a little," said Barbara.</p> + +<p>"At your pleasure," said I. "But pray don't go far, there may be +danger."</p> + +<p>She turned away and retraced her steps to the beach. The instant she was +gone, I sprang up, seized the jug, and ran at the best of my speed to +the cottage. Jonah Wall lay still across the entrance, no living +creature was in sight; I darted in and looked round for water; a pitcher +stood<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_327" id="Page_327">[Pg 327]</a></span> on the table, and I filled the jug hastily. Then, with a smile of +sour triumph, I hurried back the way I had come. She should have no +cause to complain of me. I had been wronged, and was minded to hug my +grievance and keep the merit of the difference all on my side. That +motive too commonly underlies a seeming patience of wrong. I would not +for the world enrich her with a just quarrel, therefore I brought her +water, ay, although she feigned not to desire it. There it was for her, +let her take it if she would, or leave it if she would; and I set the +jug down by the pasty. She should not say that I had refused to fetch +her what she asked, although she had, for her own good reasons, flung my +guinea into the sea. She would come soon, then would be my hour. Yet I +would spare her; a gentleman should show no exultation; silence would +serve to point the moral.</p> + +<p>But where was she? To say truth, I was impatient for the play to begin +and anticipation grew flat with waiting. I looked down to the shore but +could not see her. I rose and walked forward till the beach lay open +before me. Where was Barbara?</p> + +<p>A sudden fear ran through me. Had any madness seized the girl, some +uncontrolled whim made her fly from me? She could not be so foolish. But +where was she? On the moment of the question a cry of surprise rang from +my lips. There, ahead of me, not on the shore, but on the sea, was<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_328" id="Page_328">[Pg 328]</a></span> +Barbara. The boat was twelve or fifteen yards from the beach, Barbara's +face was towards me, and she was rowing out to sea. Forgetting pasty and +jug, I bounded down. What new folly was this? To show herself in the +boat was to court capture. And why did she row out to sea? In an instant +I was on the margin of the water. I called out to her, she took no heed; +the boat was heavy, but putting her strength into the strokes she drove +it along. Again I called, and called unheeded. Was this my triumph? I +saw a smile on her face. Not she, but I, afforded the sport then. I +would not stand there, mocked for a fool by her eyes and her smile.</p> + +<p>"Come back," I cried.</p> + +<p>The boat moved on. I was in the water to my knees. "Come back," I cried. +I heard a laugh from the boat, a high nervous laugh; but the boat moved +on. With an oath I cast my sword from me, throwing it behind me on the +beach, and plunged into the water. Soon I was up to the neck, and I took +to swimming. Straight out to sea went the boat, not fast, but +relentlessly. In grim anger I swam with all my strength. I could not +gain on her. She had ceased now even to look where my head bobbed among +the waves; her face was lifted towards the sky. By heaven, did she in +very truth mean to leave me? I called once more. Now she answered.</p> + +<p>"Go back," she said. "I'm going alone."</p> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_329" id="Page_329">[Pg 329]</a></span></p> +<p>"By heaven, you aren't," I muttered with a gasp, and set myself to a +faster stroke. Bad to deal with are women! Must she fly from me and risk +all because I had not smiled and grinned and run for what she needed, +like a well-trained monkey? Well, I would catch her and bring her back.</p> + +<p>But catch her I could not. A poor oarsman may beat a fair swimmer, and +she had the start of me. Steadily out to sea she rowed, and I toiled +behind. If her mood lasted—and hurt pride lasts long in disdainful +ladies who are more wont to deal strokes than to bear them—my choice +was plain. I must drown there like a rat, or turn back a beaten cur. +Alas for my triumph! If to have thought on it were sin, I was now +chastened. But Barbara rowed on. In very truth she meant to leave me, +punishing herself if by that she might sting me. What man would have +shown that folly—or that flower of pride?</p> + +<p>Yet was I beaten? I do not love to be beaten, above all when the game +has seemed in my hands. I had a card to play, and, between my pants, +smiled grimly as it came into my mind. I glanced over my shoulder; I was +hard on half-a-mile from shore. Women are compassionate; quick on +pride's heels there comes remorse. I looked at the boat; the interval +that parted me from it had not narrowed by an inch, and its head was +straight for the coast of France. I raised my voice, crying:</p> + +<p>"Stop, stop!"</p> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_330" id="Page_330">[Pg 330]</a></span></p> +<p>No answer came. The boat moved on. The slim figure bent and rose again, +the blades moved through the water. Well then, the card should be +played, the trick of a wily gamester, but my only resource.</p> + +<p>"Help, help!" I cried; and letting my legs fall and raising my hands +over my head, I inhaled a full breath and sank like a stone, far out of +sight beneath the water. Here I abode as long as I could; then, after +swimming some yards under the surface, I rose and put my head out again, +gasping hard and clearing my matted hair from before my eyes. I could +scarcely stifle a cry. The boat's head was turned now, and Barbara was +rowing with furious speed towards where I had sunk, her head turned over +her shoulder and her eyes fixed on the spot. She passed by where I was, +but did not see me. She reached the spot and dropped her oars.</p> + +<p>"Help, help!" I cried a second time, and stayed long enough to let her +see my head before I dived below. But my stay was shorter now. Up again, +I looked for her. She was all but over me as she went by; she panted, +she sobbed, and the oars only just touched water. I swam five strokes +and caught at the gunwale of the boat. A loud cry broke from her. The +oars fell from her hand. The boat was broad and steady. I flung my leg +over and climbed in, panting hard. In truth I was out of breath. Barbara +cried, "You're safe!" and hid her face in her hands.</p> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_331" id="Page_331">[Pg 331]</a></span></p> +<p>We were mad both of us, beyond a doubt, she sobbing there on the thwart, +I panting and dripping in the bows. Yet for a touch of such sweet +madness now, when all young nature was strung to a delicious contest, +and the blood spun through the veins full of life! Our boat lay +motionless on the sea, and the setting sun caught the undergrowth of +red-brown hair that shot through Barbara's dark locks. My own state was, +I must confess, less fair to look on.</p> + +<p>I controlled my voice to a cold steadiness, as I wrung the water from my +clothes.</p> + +<p>"This is a mighty silly business, Mistress Barbara," said I.</p> + +<p>I had angled for a new outburst of fury, my catch was not what I looked +for. Her hands were stretched out towards me, and her face, pale and +tearful, pleaded with me.</p> + +<p>"Simon, Simon, you were drowning! Through my—my folly! Oh, will you +ever forgive me? If—if you had come to hurt, I wouldn't have lived."</p> + +<p>"Yet you were running away from me."</p> + +<p>"I didn't dream that you'd follow. Indeed I didn't think that you'd risk +death." Then her eyes seemed to fall on my dripping clothes. In an +instant she snatched up the cloak that lay by her, and held it towards +me, crying "Wrap yourself in it."</p> + +<p>"Nay, keep your cloak," said I, "I shall be warm<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_332" id="Page_332">[Pg 332]</a></span> enough with rowing. I +pray you, madame, tell me the meaning of this freak of yours."</p> + +<p>"Nothing, nothing. I—Oh, forgive me, Simon. Ah, how I shuddered when I +looked round on the water and couldn't see you! I vowed to God that if +you were saved——." She stopped abruptly.</p> + +<p>"My death would have been on your conscience?" I asked.</p> + +<p>"Till my own death," she said.</p> + +<p>"Then indeed," said I, "I'm very glad that I wasn't drowned."</p> + +<p>"It's enough that you were in peril of it," she murmured woefully.</p> + +<p>"I pray heaven," said I cheerfully, "that I may never be in greater. +Come, Mistress Barbara, sport for sport, trick for trick, feint for +feint. I think your intention of leaving me was pretty much as real as +this peril of drowning from which I have escaped."</p> + +<p>Her hands, which still implored me, fell to her side. An expression of +wonder spread over her face.</p> + +<p>"In truth, I meant to leave you," she said.</p> + +<p>"And why, madame?"</p> + +<p>"Because I burdened you."</p> + +<p>"But you had consented to accept my aid."</p> + +<p>"While you seemed to give it willingly. But I had angered you in the +matter of that——"</p> + +<p>"Ay, of that guinea. Well, it was my last."</p> + +<p>"Yes, of the guinea. Although I was foolish,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_333" id="Page_333">[Pg 333]</a></span> yet I could not endure +your——" Again she hesitated.</p> + +<p>"Pray let me hear?" said I.</p> + +<p>"I would not stay where my company was suffered rather than prized," +said she.</p> + +<p>"So you were for trying fortune alone?"</p> + +<p>"Better that than with an unwilling defender," said she.</p> + +<p>"Behold your injustice!" I cried. "For, rather than lose you, I have +faced all, even drowning!" And I laughed.</p> + +<p>Her eyes were fixed on my face, but she did not speak. I believe she +feared to ask me the question that was in her dark eyes. But at last she +murmured:</p> + +<p>"Why do you speak of tricks? Simon, why do you laugh?"</p> + +<p>"Why, since by a trick you left me—indeed I cannot believe it was no +trick."</p> + +<p>"I swear it was no trick!"</p> + +<p>"I warrant it was. And thus by a trick I have contrived to thwart it."</p> + +<p>"By a trick?"</p> + +<p>"Most assuredly. Am I a man to drown with half a mile's swimming in +smooth water?" Again I laughed.</p> + +<p>She leant forward and spoke in an agitated voice, yet imperiously.</p> + +<p>"Tell me the truth. Were you indeed in danger and distress?"</p> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_334" id="Page_334">[Pg 334]</a></span></p> +<p>"Not a whit," said I composedly. "But you wouldn't wait for me."</p> + +<p>Slowly came her next question.</p> + +<p>"It was a trick, then?"</p> + +<p>"And crowned with great success," said I.</p> + +<p>"All a trick?"</p> + +<p>"Throughout," I answered.</p> + +<p>Her face grew set and rigid, and, if it might be, yet paler than before. +I waited for her to speak, but she said nothing. She drew away the cloak +that she had offered me, and, wrapping it about her shoulders, withdrew +to the stern of the boat. I took her place, and laid hold of the oars.</p> + +<p>"What's your pleasure now, madame?" I asked.</p> + +<p>"What you will," she said briefly.</p> + +<p>I looked at her; she met my gaze with a steady regard. I had expected +scorn, but found grief and hurt. Accused by the sight, I wrapped myself +in a cold flippancy.</p> + +<p>"There is small choice," said I. "The beach is there, and that we have +found not pleasant. Calais is yonder, where certainly we must not go. To +Dover then? Evening falls, and if we go gently it will be dark before we +reach the town."</p> + +<p>"Where you will. I care not," said Barbara, and she folded her cloak so +about her face that I could see little more of her than her eyes and her +brows. Here at length was my triumph, as sweet as such joys are; malice +is their fount and they<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_335" id="Page_335">[Pg 335]</a></span> smack of its bitterness. Had I followed my +heart, I would have prayed her pardon. A sore spirit I had impelled her, +my revenge lacked justice. Yet I would not abase myself, being now in my +turn sore and therefore obstinate. With slow strokes I propelled the +boat towards Dover town.</p> + +<p>For half an hour I rowed; dusk fell, and I saw the lights of Dover. A +gentler mood came on me. I rested an instant, and, leaning forward, said +to Barbara:</p> + +<p>"Yet I must thank you. Had I been in peril, you would have saved me."</p> + +<p>No answer came.</p> + +<p>"I perceived that you were moved by my fancied danger," I persisted.</p> + +<p>Then she spoke clearly, calmly, and coldly.</p> + +<p>"I wouldn't have a dog drown under my eyes," said she. "The spectacle is +painful."</p> + +<p>I performed such a bow as I could, sitting there, and took up my oars +again. I had made my advance; if such were the welcome, no more should +come from me. I rowed slowly on, then lay on my oars awhile, waiting for +darkness to fall. The night came, misty again and chill. I grew cold as +I waited (my clothes were but half-dry), and would gladly have thumped +myself with my hands. But I should have seemed to ask pity of the statue +that sat there, enveloped in the cloak, with closed eyes and pale +unmoved face. Suddenly she spoke.</p> + +<p>"Are you cold, sir?"</p> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_336" id="Page_336">[Pg 336]</a></span></p> +<p>"Cold? I am somewhat over-heated with rowing, madame," I answered. "But, +I pray you, wrap your cloak closer round you."</p> + +<p>"I am very well, I thank you, sir."</p> + +<p>Yet cold I was, and bitterly. Moreover I was hungry and somewhat faint. +Was Barbara hungry? I dared not ask her lest she should find a fresh +mockery in the question.</p> + +<p>When I ventured to beach the boat a little way out of Dover, it was +quite dark, being hard on ten o'clock. I offered Barbara my hand to +alight, but she passed it by unnoticed. Leaving the boat to its fate, we +walked towards the town.</p> + +<p>"Where are you taking me?" asked Barbara.</p> + +<p>"To the one person who can serve us," I answered. "Veil your face, and +it would be well that we shouldn't speak loud."</p> + +<p>"I have no desire to speak at all," said Barbara.</p> + +<p>I would not tell her whither she went. Had we been friends, to bring her +there would have taxed my persuasion to the full; as our affairs stood, +I knew she would lie the night in the street before she would go. But if +I got her to the house, I could keep her. But would she reach the house? +She walked very wearily, faltering in her step and stumbling over every +loose stone. I put out my arm to save her once, but she drew away from +it, as though I had meant to strike her.</p> + +<p>At last we came to the narrow alley; making a sign to Barbara, I turned +down it. The house was<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_337" id="Page_337">[Pg 337]</a></span> in front of me; all was quiet, we had escaped +detection. Why, who should seek for us? We were at Calais with King +Louis, at Calais where we were to be married!</p> + +<p>Looking at the house, I found the upper windows dark; there had been the +quarters of Phineas Tate, and the King had found him others. But below +there was a light.</p> + +<p>"Will it please you to wait an instant, while I go forward and rouse my +friend? I shall see then whether all is safe."</p> + +<p>"I will wait here," answered Barbara, and she leant against the wall of +the alley which fronted the house. In much trepidation I went on and +knocked with my knuckles on the door. There was no other course; yet I +did not know how either of them would take my action—the lady within or +the lady without, she whom I asked for succour or she in whose cause I +sought it.</p> + +<p>My entry was easy; a man-servant and a maid were just within, and the +house seemed astir. My request for their mistress caused no surprise; +the girl opened the door of the room. I knew the room and gave my name. +A cry of pleasure greeted it, and a moment later Nell herself stood +before me.</p> + +<p>"From the Castle or Calais, from Deal or the devil?" she cried. In truth +she had a knack of telling you all she knew in a sentence.</p> + +<p>"Why, from half-way between Deal and the devil," said I. "For I have +left Monmouth on one<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_338" id="Page_338">[Pg 338]</a></span> side and M. de Perrencourt on the other, and am +come safe through."</p> + +<p>"A witty Simon! But why in Dover again?"</p> + +<p>"For want of a friend, mistress. Am I come to one?"</p> + +<p>"With all my heart, Simon. What would you?"</p> + +<p>"Means to go to London."</p> + +<p>"Now Heaven is kind! I go there myself in a few hours. You stare. In +truth, it's worth a stare. But the King commands. How did you get rid of +Louis?"</p> + +<p>I told her briefly. She seemed barely to listen, but looked at me with +evident curiosity, and, I think, with some pleasure.</p> + +<p>"A brave thing!" she cried. "Come, I'll carry you to London. Nobody +shall touch you while you're hid under the hem of my petticoat. It will +be like old times, Simon."</p> + +<p>"I have no money," said I.</p> + +<p>"But I have plenty. For the less the King comes, the more he sends. He's +a gentleman in his apologies." Her sigh breathed more contentment than +repining.</p> + +<p>"So you'll take me with you?"</p> + +<p>"To the world's end, Simon, and if you don't ask that, at least to +London."</p> + +<p>"But I'm not alone," said I.</p> + +<p>She looked at me for an instant. Then she began to laugh.</p> + +<p>"Whom have you with you?" she asked.</p> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_339" id="Page_339">[Pg 339]</a></span></p> +<p>"The lady," said I.</p> + +<p>She laughed still, but it seemed to me not very heartily.</p> + +<p>"I'm glad," she said, "that one man in England thinks me a good +Christian. By heaven, you do, Simon, or you'd never ask me to aid your +love."</p> + +<p>"There's no love in the matter," I cried. "We're at daggers drawn."</p> + +<p>"Then certainly there's love in it," said Mistress Nell, nodding her +pretty head in a mighty sagacious manner. "Does she know to whom you've +brought her?"</p> + +<p>"Not yet," I answered with a somewhat uneasy smile.</p> + +<p>"How will she take it?"</p> + +<p>"She has no other help," said I.</p> + +<p>"Oh, Simon, what a smooth tongue is yours!" She paused, seeming, to fall +into a reverie. Then she looked at me wickedly.</p> + +<p>"You and your lady are ready to face the perils of the road?"</p> + +<p>"Her peril is greater here, and mine as great."</p> + +<p>"The King's pursuit, Monmouth's rage, soldiers, officers, footpads?"</p> + +<p>"A fig for them all!"</p> + +<p>"Another peril?"</p> + +<p>"For her or for me?"</p> + +<p>"Why, for both, good Simon. Don't you understand! See then!" She came +near to me, smiling<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_340" id="Page_340">[Pg 340]</a></span> most saucily, and pursing her lips together as +though she meant to kiss me.</p> + +<p>"If I were vowed to the lady, I should fear the test," said I, "but I am +free."</p> + +<p>"Where is she?" asked Nell, letting my answer pass with a pout.</p> + +<p>"By your very door."</p> + +<p>"Let's have her in," cried Nell, and straightway she ran into the alley.</p> + +<p>I followed, and came up with her just as she reached Barbara. Barbara +leant no more against the wall, but lay huddled at the foot of it. +Weariness and hunger had overcome her; she was in a faint, her lips +colourless and her eyes closed. Nell dropped beside her, murmuring low, +soft consolations. I stood by in awkward helplessness. These matters +were beyond my learning.</p> + +<p>"Lift her and carry her in," Nell commanded, and, stooping, I lifted her +in my arms. The maid and the man stared. Nell shut the door sharply on +them.</p> + +<p>"What have you done to her?" she cried to me in angry accusation. +"You've let her go without food."</p> + +<p>"We had none. She flung my last money into the sea," I pleaded.</p> + +<p>"And why? Oh, hold your peace and let us be!"</p> + +<p>To question and refuse an answer is woman's way; should it be forbidden +to Nell, who was woman from crown to sole? I shrugged my shoulders and +drew off to the far end of the room. For some<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_341" id="Page_341">[Pg 341]</a></span> moments I heard nothing +and remained very uneasy, not knowing whether it were allowed me to look +or not, nor what passed. Then I heard Barbara's voice.</p> + +<p>"I thank you, I thank you much. But where am I, and who are you? Forgive +me, but who are you?"</p> + +<p>"You're in Dover, and safe enough, madame," answered Nell. "What does it +matter who I am? Will you drink a little of this to please me?"</p> + +<p>"No, but who are you? I seem to know your face."</p> + +<p>"Like enough. Many have seen it."</p> + +<p>"But tell me who you are."</p> + +<p>"Since you will know, Simon Dale must stand sponsor for me. Here, +Simon!"</p> + +<p>I rose in obedience to the summons. A thing that a man does not feel of +his own accord, a girl's eyes will often make him feel. I took my stand +by Nell boldly enough; but Barbara's eyes were on mine, and I was full +of fear.</p> + +<p>"Tell her who I am, Simon," said Nell.</p> + +<p>I looked at Nell. As I live, the fear that was in my heart was in her +eyes. Yet she had faced the world and laughed to scorn all England's +frowns. She understood my thought, and coloured red. Since when had +Cydaria learnt to blush? Even at Hatchstead my blush had been the target +for her mockery. "Tell her," she repeated angrily.</p> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_342" id="Page_342">[Pg 342]</a></span></p> +<p>But Barbara knew. Turning to her, I had seen the knowledge take shape in +her eyes and grow to revulsion and dismay. I could not tell what she +would say; but now my fear was in no way for myself. She seemed to watch +Nell for awhile in a strange mingling of horror and attraction. Then she +rose, and, still without a word, took her way on trembling feet towards +the door. To me she gave no glance and seemed to pay no heed. We two +looked for an instant, then Nell darted forward.</p> + +<p>"You mustn't go," she cried. "Where would you go? You've no other +friend."</p> + +<p>Barbara paused, took one step more, paused again.</p> + +<p>"I shan't harm you," said Nell. Then she laughed. "You needn't touch me, +if you will have it so. But I can help you. And I can help Simon; he's +not safe in Dover." She had grown grave, but she ended with another +laugh, "You needn't touch me. My maid is a good girl—yes, it's +true—and she shall tend you."</p> + +<p>"For pity's sake, Mistress Barbara——" I began.</p> + +<p>"Hush," said Nell, waving me back with a motion of her hand. Barbara now +stood still in the middle of the room. She turned her eyes on me, and +her whisper sounded clear through all the room.</p> + +<p>"Is it——?" she asked.</p> + +<p>"It is Mistress Eleanor Gwyn," said I, bowing my head.</p> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_343" id="Page_343">[Pg 343]</a></span></p> +<p>Nell laughed a short strange laugh; I saw her breast rise and fall, and +a bright red patch marked either cheek.</p> + +<p>"Yes, I'm Nelly," said she, and laughed again.</p> + +<p>Barbara's eyes met hers.</p> + +<p>"You were at Hatchstead?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," said Nell, and now she smiled defiantly; but in a moment she +sprang forward, for Barbara had reeled, and seemed like to faint again +and fall. A proud motion of the hand forbade Nell's approach, but +weakness baffled pride, and now perforce Barbara caught at her hand.</p> + +<p>"I—I can go in a moment," stammered Barbara. "But——."</p> + +<p>Nell held one hand. Very slowly, very timidly, with fear and shame plain +on her face, she drew nearer, and put out her other hand to Barbara. +Barbara did not resist her, but let her come nearer; Nell's glance +warned me not to move, and I stood where I was, watching them. Now the +clasp of the hand was changed for a touch on the shoulder, now the +comforting arm sank to the waist and stole round it, full as timidly as +ever gallant's round a denying mistress; still I watched, and I met +Nell's bright eyes, which looked across at me wet and sparkling. The +dark hair almost mingled with the ruddy brown as Barbara's head fell on +Nell's shoulder. I heard a little sob, and Barbara moaned:</p> + +<p>"Oh, I'm tired, and very hungry."</p> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_344" id="Page_344">[Pg 344]</a></span></p> +<p>"Rest here, and you shall have food, my pretty," said Nell Gwyn. "Simon, +go and bid them give you some."</p> + +<p>I went, glad to go. And as I went I heard, "There, pretty, don't cry."</p> + +<p>Well, women love to weep. A plague on them, though, they need not make +us also fools.</p> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_345" id="Page_345">[Pg 345]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XIX" id="CHAPTER_XIX"></a>CHAPTER XIX</h2> + +<h3>A NIGHT ON THE ROAD</h3> + + +<p>In a man of green age and inexperience a hasty judgment may gain pardon +and none need wonder that his hopes carry him on straightway to +conclusions born of desire rather than of reason. The meeting I feared +had passed off so softly that I forgot how strange and delicate it was, +and what were the barriers which a gust of sympathy had for the moment +levelled. It did not enter my mind that they must raise their heads +again, and that friendship, or even companionship, must be impossible +between the two whom I, desperately seeking some refuge, had thrown +together. Yet an endeavour was made, and that on both sides; obligation +blunted the edge of Mistress Barbara's scorn, freedom's respect for +virtue's chain schooled Nell to an unwonted staidness of demeanour. The +fires of war but smouldered, the faintest puff of smoke showing only +here and there. I was on the alert to avoid an outbreak; for awhile no +outbreak came and my hopes grew to confidence. But then—I can write the +thing no other way—that ancient devil of hers<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_346" id="Page_346">[Pg 346]</a></span> made re-entry into the +heart of Mistress Gwyn. I was a man, and a man who had loved her; it was +then twice intolerable that I should disclaim her dominion, that I +should be free, nay, that I should serve another with a sedulous care +which might well seem devotion; for the offence touching the guinea was +forgotten, my mock drowning well-nigh forgiven, and although Barbara had +few words for me, they were such that gratitude and friendship shone in +them through the veil of embarrassment. Mistress Nell's shrewd eyes were +on us, and she watched while she aided. It was in truth her interest, as +she conceived, to carry Barbara safe out of Dover; but there was +kindness also in her ample succour; although (ever slave to the sparkle +of a gem) she seized with eager gratitude on Louis' jewelled dagger when +I offered it as my share of our journey's charges, she gave full return; +Barbara was seated in her coach, a good horse was provided for me, her +servant found me a sober suit of clothes and a sword. Thus our strange +party stole from Dover before the town was awake, Nell obeying the +King's command which sent her back to London, and delighting that she +could punish him for it by going in our company. I rode behind the +coach, bearing myself like a serving-man until we reached open country, +when I quickened pace and stationed myself by the window. Up to this +time matters had gone well; if they spoke, it was of service given and +kindness shown. But as the day wore on and we came<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_347" id="Page_347">[Pg 347]</a></span> near Canterbury the +devil began to busy himself. Perhaps I showed some discouragement at the +growing coldness of Barbara's manner, and my anxiety to warm her to +greater cordiality acted as a spur on our companion. First Nell laughed +that my sallies gained small attention and my compliments no return, +that Barbara would not talk of our adventures of the day before, but +harped always on coming speedily where her father was and so discharging +me from my forced service. A merry look declared that if Mistress +Quinton would not play the game another would; a fusillade of glances +opened, Barbara seeing and feigning not to see, I embarrassed, yet +chagrined into some return; there followed words, half-whispered, +half-aloud, not sparing in reminiscence of other days and mischievously +pointed with tender sentiment. The challenge to my manhood was too +tempting, the joy of encounter too sweet. Barbara grew utterly silent, +sitting with eyes downcast and lips set in a disapproval that needed no +speech for its expression. Bolder and bolder came Nell's advances; when +I sought to drop behind she called me up; if I rode ahead she swore she +would bid the driver gallop his horses till she came to me again. "I +can't be without you, Simon. Ah, 'tis so long since we were together," +she whispered, and turned naughty eyes on Barbara.</p> + +<p>Yet we might have come through without declared conflict, had not a +thing befallen us at Canterbury that brought Nell into fresh temptation, +and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_348" id="Page_348">[Pg 348]</a></span> thereby broke the strained cords of amity. The doings of the King +at Dover had set the country in some stir; there was no love of the +French, and less of the Pope; men were asking, and pretty loudly, why +Madame came; she had been seen in Canterbury, the Duke of York had given +a great entertainment there for her. They did not know what I knew, but +they were uneasy concerning the King's religion and their own. Yet Nell +must needs put her head well out of window as we drove in. I know not +whether the sequel were what she desired, it was at least what she +seemed not to fear; a fellow caught sight of her and raised a cheer. The +news spread quick among the idle folk in the street, and the busy, +hearing it, came out of their houses. A few looked askance at our +protector, but the larger part, setting their Protestantism above their +scruples, greeted her gladly, and made a procession for her, cheering +and encouraging her with cries which had more friendliness than delicacy +in them. Now indeed I dropped behind and rode beside the mounted +servant. The fellow was all agrin, triumphing in his mistress's +popularity. Even so she herself exulted in it, and threw all around nods +and smiles, ay, and, alas, repartees conceived much in the same spirit +as the jests that called them forth. I could have cried on the earth to +swallow me, not for my own sake (in itself the scene was entertaining +enough, however little it might tend to edification), but on account of +Mistress Barbara. Fairly I was afraid to ride forward and see her face,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_349" id="Page_349">[Pg 349]</a></span> +and dreaded to remember that I had brought her to this situation. But +Nell laughed and jested, flinging back at me now and again a look that +mocked my glum face and declared her keen pleasure in my perplexity and +her scorn of Barbara's shame. Where now were the tenderness and sympathy +which had made their meeting beautiful? The truce was ended and war +raged relentless.</p> + +<p>We came to our inn; I leapt from my horse and forestalled the bustling +host in opening the coach door. The loons of townsmen and their +gossiping wives lined the approach on either side; Nell sprang out, +merry, radiant, unashamed; she laughed in my face as she ran past me +amid the plaudits; slowly Barbara followed; with a low bow I offered my +arm. Alas, there rose a murmur of questions concerning her; who was the +lady that rode with Nell Gwyn, who was he that, although plainly +attired, bore himself so proudly? Was he some great lord, travelling +unknown, and was the lady——? Well, the conjectures may be guessed, and +Mistress Quinton heard them. Her pride broke for a moment and I feared +she would weep; then she drew herself up and walked slowly by with a +haughty air and a calm face, so that the murmured questions fell to +silence. Perhaps I also had my share in the change, for I walked after +her, wearing a fierce scowl, threatening with my eyes, and having my +hand on the hilt of my sword.</p> + +<p>The host, elate with the honour of Nell's coming,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_350" id="Page_350">[Pg 350]</a></span> was eager to offer us +accommodation. Barbara addressed not a word either to Nell or to me, but +followed a maid to the chamber allotted to her. Nell was in no such +haste to hide herself from view. She cried for supper, and was led to a +room on the first floor which overlooked the street. She threw the +window open, and exchanged more greetings and banter with her admirers +below. I flung my hat on the table and sat moodily in a chair. Food was +brought, and Nell, turning at last from her entertainment, flew to +partake of it with merry eagerness.</p> + +<p>"But doesn't Mistress Quinton sup with us?" she said.</p> + +<p>Mistress Quinton, it seemed, had no appetite for a meal, was shut close +in her own chamber, and refused all service. Nell laughed and bade me +fall to. I obeyed, being hungry in spite of my discomfort.</p> + +<p>I was resolute not to quarrel with her. She had shewn me great +friendliness; nay, and I had a fondness for her, such as I defy any man +(man I say, not woman) to have escaped. But she tried me sorely, and +while we ate she plied me with new challenges and fresh incitements to +anger. I held my temper well in bounds, and, when I was satisfied, rose +with a bow, saying that I would go and enquire if I could be of any aid +to Mistress Quinton.</p> + +<p>"She won't shew herself to you," cried Nell mockingly.</p> + +<p>"She will, if you're not with me," I retorted.</p> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_351" id="Page_351">[Pg 351]</a></span></p> +<p>"Make the trial! Behold, I'm firmly seated here!"</p> + +<p>A maid carried my message while I paced the corridor; the lady's +compliments returned to me, but, thanks to the attention of the host, +she had need of nothing. I sent again, saying that I desired to speak +with her concerning our journey. The lady's excuses returned to me; she +had a headache and had sought her bed; she must pray me to defer my +business till the morrow, and wished Mistress Gwyn and me good-night. +The maid tripped off smiling.</p> + +<p>"Plague on her!" I cried angrily and loudly. A laugh greeted the +exclamation, and I turned to see Nell standing in the doorway of the +room where we had supped.</p> + +<p>"I knew, I knew!" she cried, revelling in her triumph, her eyes dancing +in delight. "Poor Simon! Alas, poor Simon, you know little of women! But +come, you're a brave lad, and I'll comfort you. Besides you have given +me a jewelled dagger. Shall I lend it to you again, to plunge in your +heart, poor Simon?"</p> + +<p>"I don't understand you. I have no need of a dagger," I answered +stiffly; yet, feeling a fool there in the passage, I followed her into +the room.</p> + +<p>"Your heart is pierced already?" she asked. "Ah, but your heart heals +well! I'll spend no pity on you."</p> + +<p>There was now a new tone in her voice. Her eyes<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_352" id="Page_352">[Pg 352]</a></span> still sparkled in +mischievous exultation that she had proved right and I come away sore +and baffled. But when she spoke of the healing of my heart, there was an +echo of sadness; the hinting of some smothered sorrow seemed to be +struggling with her mirth. She was a creature all compounded of sudden +changing moods; I did not know when they were true, when feigned in +sport or to further some device. She came near now and bent over my +chair, saying gently,</p> + +<p>"Alas, I'm very wicked! I couldn't help the folk cheering me, Simon. +Surely it was no fault of mine?"</p> + +<p>"You had no need to look out of the window of the coach," said I +sternly.</p> + +<p>"But I did that with never a thought. I wanted the air. I——"</p> + +<p>"Nor to jest and banter. It was mighty unseemly, I swear."</p> + +<p>"In truth I was wrong to jest with them," said Nell remorsefully. "And +within, Simon, my heart was aching with shame, even while I jested. Ah, +you don't know the shame I feel!"</p> + +<p>"In good truth," I returned, "I believe you feel no shame at all."</p> + +<p>"You're very cruel to me, Simon. Yet it's no more than my desert. Ah, +if——"; she sighed heavily. "If only, Simon——," she said, and her +hand was very near my hair by the back of the chair. "But that's past +praying," she ended, sighing again<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_353" id="Page_353">[Pg 353]</a></span> most woefully. "Yet I have been of +some service to you."</p> + +<p>"I thank you for it most heartily," said I, still stiff and cold.</p> + +<p>"And I was very wrong to-day. Simon, it was on her account."</p> + +<p>"What?" I cried. "Did Mistress Quinton bid you put your head out and +jest with the fellows on the pavement?"</p> + +<p>"She did not bid me; but I did it because she was there."</p> + +<p>I looked up at her; it was a rare thing with her, but she would not meet +my glance. I looked down again.</p> + +<p>"It was always the same between her and me," murmured Nell. "Ay, so long +ago—even at Hatchstead."</p> + +<p>"We're not in Hatchstead now," said I roughly.</p> + +<p>"No, nor even in Chelsea. For even in Chelsea you had a kindness for +me."</p> + +<p>"I have much kindness for you now."</p> + +<p>"Well, then you had more."</p> + +<p>"It is in your knowledge why now I have no more."</p> + +<p>"Yes, it's in my knowledge!" she cried. "Yet I carried Mistress Quinton +from Dover."</p> + +<p>I made no answer to that. She sighed "Heigho," and for a moment there +was silence. But messages pass without words, and there are speechless +Mercuries who carry tidings from heart to heart. Then the air<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_354" id="Page_354">[Pg 354]</a></span> is full +of whisperings, and silence is but foil to a thousand sounds which the +soul hears though the dull corporeal ear be deaf. Did she still amuse +herself, or was there more? Sometimes a part, assumed in play or malice, +so grows on the actor that he cannot, even when he would, throw aside +his trappings and wash from his face the paint which was to show the +passion that he played. The thing takes hold and will not be thrown +aside; it seems to seek revenge for the light assumption and punishes +the bravado that feigned without feeling by a feeling which is not +feint. She was now, for the moment if you will, but yet now, in earnest. +Some wave of recollection or of fancy had come over her and transformed +her jest. She stole round till her face peeped into mine in piteous +bewitching entreaty, asking a sign of fondness, bringing back the past, +raising the dead from my heart's sepulchre. There was a throbbing in my +brain; yet I had need of a cool head. With a spring I was on my feet.</p> + +<p>"I'll go and ask if Mistress Barbara sleeps," I stammered. "I fear she +may not be well attended."</p> + +<p>"You'll go again? Once scorned, you'll go again, Simon? Well, the maid +will smile; they'll make a story of it among themselves at their supper +in the kitchen."</p> + +<p>The laugh of a parcel of knaves and wenches! Surely it is a small thing! +But men will face death smiling who run wry-faced from such ridicule. I +sank in my chair again. But in truth did I desire<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_355" id="Page_355">[Pg 355]</a></span> to go? The dead rise, +or at least there is a voice that speaks from the tomb. A man tarries to +listen. Well if he be not lost in listening!</p> + +<p>With a sigh Nell moved across the room and flung the window open. The +loiterers were gone, all was still, only the stars looked in, only the +sweet scent of the night made a new companion.</p> + +<p>"It's like a night at Hatchstead," she whispered. "Do you remember how +we walked there together? It smelt as it smells to-night. It's so long +ago!" She came quickly towards me and asked "Do you hate me now?" but +did not wait for the answer. She threw herself in a chair near me and +fixed her eyes on me. It was strange to see her face grave and wrung +with agitation; yet she was better thus, the new timidity became her +marvellously.</p> + +<p>There was a great clock in the corner of the old panelled room; it +ticked solemnly, seeming to keep time with the beating of my heart. I +had no desire to move, but sat there waiting; yet every nerve of my body +was astir. Now I watched her every movement, took reckoning of every +feature, seemed to read more than her outward visage showed and to gain +knowledge of her heart. I knew that she tempted me, and why. I was not a +fool, to think that she loved me; but she was set to conquer me, and +with her there was no price that seemed high when the prize was victory +or a whim's fulfilment.</p> + +<p>I would have written none of this, but that it is<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_356" id="Page_356">[Pg 356]</a></span> so part and marrow of +my history that without it the record of my life would go limping on one +leg.</p> + +<p>She rose and came near me again. Now she laughed, yet still not lightly, +but as though she hid a graver mood.</p> + +<p>"Come," said she, "you needn't fear to be civil to me. Mistress Barbara +is not here."</p> + +<p>The taunt was well conceived; for the most part there is no incitement +that more whips a man to any madness than to lay self-control to the +score of cowardice, and tell him that his scruples are not his own, but +worn by command of another and on pain of her displeasure. But sometimes +woman's cunning goes astray, and a name, used in mockery, speaks for +itself with strong attraction, as though it held the charm of her it +stands for. The name, falling from Nell's pouting lips, had power to +raise in me a picture, and the picture spread, like a very painting done +on canvas, a screen between me and the alluring eyes that sought mine in +provoking witchery. She did not know her word's work, and laughed again +to see me grow yet more grave at Barbara's name.</p> + +<p>"The stern mistress is away," she whispered. "May we not sport? The door +is shut! Why, Simon, you're dull. In truth you're as dull as the King +when his purse is empty."</p> + +<p>I raised my eyes to hers, she read the thought. She tossed her head, +flinging the brown curls back;<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_357" id="Page_357">[Pg 357]</a></span> her eyes twinkled merrily, and she said +in a soft whisper half-smothered in a rising laugh,</p> + +<p>"But, Simon, the King also is away."</p> + +<p>I owed nothing to the King and thought nothing of the King. It was not +there I stuck. Nay, and I did not stick on any score of conscience. Yet +stick I did, and gazed at her with a dumb stare. She seemed to fall into +a sudden rage, crying,</p> + +<p>"Go to her then if you will, but she won't have you. Would you like to +know what she called you to-day in the coach?"</p> + +<p>"I would hear nothing that was not for my ears."</p> + +<p>"A very pretty excuse; but in truth you fear to hear it."</p> + +<p>Alas, the truth was even as she said. I feared to hear it.</p> + +<p>"But you shall hear it. 'A good honest fellow,' she said, 'but somewhat +forward for his station.' So she said, and leant back with half-closed +lids. You know the trick these great ladies have? By Heaven, though, I +think she wronged you! For I'll swear on my Bible that you're not +forward, Simon. Well, I'm not Mistress Quinton."</p> + +<p>"You are not," said I, sore and angry, and wishing to wound her in +revenge for the blow she had dealt me.</p> + +<p>"Now you're gruff with me for what she said. It's a man's way. I care +not. Go and sigh outside her door; she won't open it to you."</p> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_358" id="Page_358">[Pg 358]</a></span></p> +<p>She drew near to me again, coaxing and seeking to soften me.</p> + +<p>"I took your part," she whispered, "and declared that you were a fine +gentleman. Nay, I told her how once I had come near to—Well, I told her +many things that it should please you to hear. But she grew mighty short +with me, and on the top came the folk with their cheers. Hence my lady's +in a rage."</p> + +<p>She shrugged her shoulders; I sat there sullen. The scornful words were +whirling through my brain. "Somewhat forward for his station!" It was a +hard judgment on one who had striven to serve her. In what had I shewn +presumption? Had she not professed to forgive all offence? She kept the +truth for others, and it came out when my back was turned.</p> + +<p>"Poor Simon!" said Nell softly. "Indeed I wonder any lady should speak +so of you. It's an evil return for your kindness to her."</p> + +<p>Silence fell on us for awhile. Nell was by me now, her hand rested +lightly on my shoulder, and, looking up, I saw her eyes on my face in +mingled pensiveness and challenge.</p> + +<p>"Indeed you are not forward," she murmured with a little laugh, and set +one hand over her eyes.</p> + +<p>I sat and looked at her; yet, though I seemed to look at her only, the +whole of the room with its furnishings is stamped clear and clean on my +memory. Nell moved a little away and stood facing me.</p> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_359" id="Page_359">[Pg 359]</a></span></p> +<p>"It grows late," she said softly, "and we must be early on the road. +I'll bid you good-night, and go to my bed."</p> + +<p>She came to me, holding out her hand; I did not take it, but she laid it +for a moment on mine. Then she drew it away and moved towards the door. +I rose and followed her.</p> + +<p>"I'll see you safe on your way," said I in a low voice. She met my gaze +for a moment, but made no answer in words. We were in the corridor now, +and she led the way. Once she turned her head and again looked at me. It +was a sullen face she saw, but still I followed.</p> + +<p>"Tread lightly!" she whispered. "There's her door; we pass it, and she +would not love to know that you escorted me. She scorns you herself, and +yet when another——" The sentence went unended.</p> + +<p>In a tumult of feeling still I followed. I was half-mad with resentment +against Barbara; swearing to myself that her scorn was nothing to me, I +shrank from nothing to prove to my own mind the lie that my heart would +not receive.</p> + +<p>"The door!" whispered Nell, going delicately on her toes with uplifted +forefinger.</p> + +<p>I cannot tell why, but at the word I came to a stand. Nell, looking over +her shoulder and seeing me stand, turned to front me. She smiled +merrily, then frowned, then smiled again with raised eye-brows. I stood +there, as though pinned to the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_360" id="Page_360">[Pg 360]</a></span> spot. For now I had heard a sound from +within. It came very softly. There was a stir as of someone moving, then +a line of some soft sad song, falling in careless half-consciousness +from saddened lips. The sound fell clear and plain on my ears, though I +paid no heed to the words and have them not in my memory; I think that +in them a maid spoke to her lover who left her, but I am not sure. I +listened. The snatch died away, and the movement in the room ceased. All +was still again, and Nell's eyes were fixed on mine. I met them +squarely, and thus for awhile we stood. Then came the unspoken question, +cried from the eyes that were on mine in a thousand tones. I could trace +the play of her face but dimly by the light of the smoky lantern, but +her eyes I seemed to see bright and near. I had looked for scorn there, +and, it might be, amusement. I seemed to see (perhaps the imperfect +light played tricks), besides lure and raillery, reproach, sorrow, and, +most strange of all, a sort of envy. Then came a smile, and ever so +lightly her finger moved in beckoning. The song came no more through the +closed door: my ears were empty of it, but not my heart; there it +sounded still in its soft pleading cadence. Poor maid, whose lover left +her! Poor maid, poor maid! I looked full at Nell, but did not move. The +lids dropped over her eyes, and their lights went out. She turned and +walked slowly and alone along the corridor. I watched her going, yes, +wistfully I watched. But I did not follow, for the snatch of song rose +in<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_361" id="Page_361">[Pg 361]</a></span> my heart. There was a door at the end of the passage; she opened it +and passed through. For a moment it stood open, then a hand stole back +and slowly drew it close. It was shut. The click of the lock rang loud +and sharp through the silent house.</p> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_362" id="Page_362">[Pg 362]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XX" id="CHAPTER_XX"></a>CHAPTER XX</h2> + +<h3>THE VICAR'S PROPOSITION</h3> + + +<p>I do not know how long I stood outside the door there in the passage. +After awhile I began to move softly to and fro, more than once reaching +the room where I was to sleep, but returning again to my old post. I was +loth to forsake it. A strange desire was on me. I wished that the door +would open, nay, to open it myself, and by my presence declare what was +now so plain to me. But to her it would not have been plain; for now I +was alone in the passage, and there was nothing to show the thing which +had come to me there, and there at last had left me. Yet it seemed +monstrous that she should not know, possible to tell her to-night, +certain that my shame-faced tongue would find no words to-morrow. It was +a thing that must be said while the glow and the charm of it were still +on me, or it would find no saying.</p> + +<p>The light had burnt down very low, and gave forth a dim fitful glare, +hardly conquering the darkness. Now, again, I was standing still, lost +in<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_363" id="Page_363">[Pg 363]</a></span> my struggle. Presently, with glad amazement, as though there had +come an unlooked-for answer to my prayer, I heard a light step within. +The footfalls seemed to hesitate; then they came again, the bolt of the +door shot back, and a crack of faint light shewed. "Who's there?" asked +Barbara's voice, trembling with alarm or some other agitation which made +her tones quick and timid. I made no answer. The door opened a little +wider. I saw her face as she looked out, half-fearful, yet surely also +half-expectant. Much as I had desired her coming, I would willingly have +escaped now, for I did not know what to say to her. I had rehearsed my +speech a hundred times; the moment for its utterance found me dumb. Yet +the impulse I had felt was still on me, though it failed to give me +words.</p> + +<p>"I thought it was you," she whispered. "Why are you there? Do you want +me?"</p> + +<p>Lame and halting came my answer.</p> + +<p>"I was only passing by on my way to bed," I stammered. "I'm sorry I +roused you."</p> + +<p>"I wasn't asleep," said she. Then after a pause she added, "I—I thought +you had been there some time. Good-night."</p> + +<p>She bade me good-night, but yet seemed to wait for me to speak; since I +was still silent she added, "Is our companion gone to bed?"</p> + +<p>"Some little while back," said I. Then raising my eyes to her face, I +said, "I'm sorry that you don't sleep."</p> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_364" id="Page_364">[Pg 364]</a></span></p> +<p>"Alas, we both have our sorrows," she returned with a doleful smile. +Again there was a pause.</p> + +<p>"Good-night," said Barbara.</p> + +<p>"Good-night," said I.</p> + +<p>She drew back, the door closed, I was alone again in the passage.</p> + +<p>Now if any man—nay, if every man—who reads my history, at this place +close the leaves on his thumb and call Simon Dale a fool, I will not +complain of him; but if he be moved to fling the book away for good and +all, not enduring more of such a fool as Simon Dale, why I will humbly +ask him if he hath never rehearsed brave speeches for his mistress's ear +and found himself tongue-tied in her presence? And if he hath, what did +he then? I wager that, while calling himself a dolt with most hearty +honesty, yet he set some of the blame on her shoulders, crying that he +would have spoken had she opened the way, that it was her reticence, her +distance, her coldness, which froze his eloquence; and that to any other +lady in the whole world he could have poured forth words so full of fire +that they must have inflamed her to a passion like to his own and burnt +down every barrier which parted her heart from his. Therefore at that +moment he searched for accusations against her, and found a +bitter-tasting comfort in every offence that she had given him, and made +treasure of any scornful speech, rescuing himself from the extreme of +foolishness by such excuse as harshness might afford. Now Barbara +Quinton had<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_365" id="Page_365">[Pg 365]</a></span> told Mistress Nell that I was forward for my station. What +man could, what man would, lay bare his heart to a lady who held him to +be forward for his station?</p> + +<p>These meditations took me to my chamber, whither I might have gone an +hour before, and lasted me fully two hours after I had stretched myself +upon the bed. Then I slept heavily; when I woke it was high morning. I +lay there a little while, thinking with no pleasure of the journey +before me. Then having risen and dressed hastily, I made my way to the +room where Nell and I had talked the night before. I did not know in +what mood I should find her, but I desired to see her alone and beg her +to come to some truce with Mistress Quinton, lest our day's travelling +should be over thorns. She was not in the room when I came there. +Looking out of window I perceived the coach at the door; the host was +giving an eye to the horses, and I hailed him. He ran in and a moment +later entered the room.</p> + +<p>"At what hour are we to set out?" I asked.</p> + +<p>"When you will," said he.</p> + +<p>"Have you no orders then from Mistress Gwyn?"</p> + +<p>"She left none with me, sir."</p> + +<p>"Left none?" I cried, amazed.</p> + +<p>A smile came on his lips and his eyes twinkled.</p> + +<p>"Now I thought it!" said he with a chuckle. "You didn't know her +purpose? She has hired a post-chaise and set out two hours ago, telling +me that you and the other lady would travel as well<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_366" id="Page_366">[Pg 366]</a></span> without her, and +that, for her part, she was weary of both of you. But she left a message +for you. See, it lies there on the table."</p> + +<p>A little packet was on the table; I took it up. The innkeeper's eyes +were fixed on me in obvious curiosity and amusement. I was not minded to +afford him more entertainment than I need, and bade him begone before I +opened the packet. He withdrew reluctantly. Then I unfastened Nell's +parcel. It contained ten guineas wrapped in white paper, and on the +inside of the paper was written in a most laborious awkward scrawl (I +fear the execution of it gave poor Nell much pains), "In pay for your +dagger. E.G." It was all of her hand I had ever seen; the brief message +seemed to speak a sadness in her. Perhaps I deluded myself; her skill +with the pen would not serve her far. She had gone, that was the sum of +it, and I was grieved that she had gone in this fashion.</p> + +<p>With the piece of paper still in my hands, the guineas also still +standing in a little pile on the table, I turned to find Barbara Quinton +in the doorway of the room. Her air was timid, as though she were not +sure of welcome, and something of the night's embarrassment still hung +about her. She looked round as though in search for somebody.</p> + +<p>"I am alone here," said I, answering her glance.</p> + +<p>"But she? Mistress——?"</p> + +<p>"She's gone," said I. "I haven't seen her. The innkeeper tells me that +she has been gone these<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_367" id="Page_367">[Pg 367]</a></span> two hours. But she has left us the coach +and——" I walked to the window and looked out. "Yes, and my horse is +there, and her servant with his horse."</p> + +<p>"But why is she gone? Hasn't she left——?"</p> + +<p>"She has left ten guineas also," said I, pointing to the pile on the +table.</p> + +<p>"And no reason for her going?"</p> + +<p>"Unless this be one," I answered, holding out the piece of paper.</p> + +<p>"I won't read it," said Barbara.</p> + +<p>"It says only, 'In pay for your dagger.'"</p> + +<p>"Then it gives no reason."</p> + +<p>"Why, no, it gives none," said I.</p> + +<p>"It's very strange," murmured Barbara, looking not at me but past me.</p> + +<p>Now to me, when I pondered over the matter, it did not seem altogether +strange. Yet where lay the need to tell Mistress Barbara why it seemed +not altogether strange? Indeed I could not have told it easily, seeing +that, look at it how you will, the thing was not easy to set forth to +Mistress Barbara. Doubtless it was but a stretch of fancy to see any +meaning in Nell's mention of the dagger, save the plain one that lay on +the surface; yet had she been given to conceits, she might have used the +dagger as a figure for some wound that I had dealt her.</p> + +<p>"No doubt some business called her," said I rather lamely. "She has +shown much consideration in leaving her coach for us."</p> + +<p>"And the money? Shall you use it?"</p> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_368" id="Page_368">[Pg 368]</a></span></p> +<p>"What choice have I?"</p> + +<p>Barbara's glance was on the pile of guineas. I put out my hand, took +them up, and stowed them in my purse; as I did this, my eye wandered to +the window. Barbara followed my look and my thought also. I had no mind +that this new provision for our needs should share the fate of my last +guinea.</p> + +<p>"You needn't have said that!" cried Barbara, flushing; although, as may +be seen, I had said nothing.</p> + +<p>"I will repay the money in due course," said I, patting my purse.</p> + +<p>We made a meal together in unbroken silence. No more was said of +Mistress Nell; our encounter in the corridor last night seemed utterly +forgotten. Relieved of a presence that was irksome to her and would have +rendered her apprehensive of fresh shame at every place we passed +through, Mistress Barbara should have shown an easier bearing and more +gaiety; so I supposed and hoped. The fact refuted me; silent, cold, and +distant, she seemed in even greater discomfort than when we had a +companion. Her mood called up a like in me, and I began to ask myself +whether for this I had done well to drive poor Nell away.</p> + +<p>Thus in gloom we made ready to set forth. Myself prepared to mount my +horse, I offered to hand Barbara into the coach. Then she looked at me; +I noted it, for she had not done so much for<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_369" id="Page_369">[Pg 369]</a></span> an hour past; a slight +colour came into her cheeks, she glanced round the interior of the +coach; it was indeed wide and spacious for one traveller.</p> + +<p>"You ride to-day also?" she asked.</p> + +<p>The sting that had tormented me was still alive; I could not deny myself +the pleasure of a retort so apt. I bowed low and deferentially, saying, +"I have learnt my station. I would not be so forward as to sit in the +coach with you." The flush on her cheeks deepened suddenly; she +stretched out her hand a little way towards me, and her lips parted as +though she were about to speak. But her hand fell again, and her lips +shut on unuttered words.</p> + +<p>"As you will," she said coldly. "Pray bid them set out."</p> + +<p>Of our journey I will say no more. There is nothing in it that I take +pleasure in telling, and to write its history would be to accuse either +Barbara or myself. For two days we travelled together, she in her coach, +I on horseback. Come to London, we were told that my lord was at +Hatchstead; having despatched our borrowed equipage and servant to their +mistress, and with them the amount of my debt and a most grateful +message, we proceeded on our road, Barbara in a chaise, I again riding. +All the way Barbara shunned me as though I had the plague, and I on my +side showed no desire to be with a companion so averse from my society. +On my life I was driven half-mad, and had that night at Canterbury<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_370" id="Page_370">[Pg 370]</a></span> come +again—well, Heaven be thanked that temptation comes sometimes at +moments when virtue also has attractions, or which of us would stand? +And the night we spent on the road, decorum forbade that we should so +much as speak, much less sup, together; and the night we lay in London, +I spent at one end of the town and she at the other. At least I showed +no forwardness; to that I was sworn, and adhered most obstinately. Thus +we came to Hatchstead, better strangers than ever we had left Dover, +and, although safe and sound from bodily perils and those wiles of +princes that had of late so threatened our tranquillity, yet both of us +as ill in temper as could be conceived. Defend me from any such journey +again! But there is no likelihood of such a trial now, alas! Yes, there +was a pleasure in it; it was a battle, and, by my faith, it was close +drawn between us.</p> + +<p>The chaise stopped at the Manor gates, and I rode up to the door of it, +cap in hand. Here was to be our parting.</p> + +<p>"I thank you heartily, sir," said Barbara in a low voice, with a bow of +her head and a quick glance that would not dwell on my sullen face.</p> + +<p>"My happiness has been to serve you, madame," I returned. "I grieve only +that my escort has been so irksome to you."</p> + +<p>"No," said Barbara, and she said no more, but rolled up the avenue in +her chaise, leaving me to find my way alone to my mother's house.</p> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_371" id="Page_371">[Pg 371]</a></span></p> +<p>I sat a few moments on my horse, watching her go. Then with an oath I +turned away. The sight of the gardener's cottage sent my thoughts back +to the old days when Cydaria came and caught my heart in her butterfly +net. It was just there, in the meadow by the avenue, that I had kissed +her. A kiss is a thing lightly given and sometimes lightly taken. It was +that kiss which Barbara had seen from the window, and great debate had +arisen on it. Lightly given, yet leading on to much that I did not see, +lightly taken, yet perhaps mother to some fancies that men would wonder +to find in Mistress Gwyn.</p> + +<p>"I'm heartily glad to be here!" I cried, loosing the Vicar's hand and +flinging myself into the high arm-chair in the chimney corner.</p> + +<p>My mother received this exclamation as a tribute of filial affection, +the Vicar treated it as an evidence of friendship, my sister Mary saw in +it a thanksgiving for deliverance from the perils and temptations of +London and the Court. Let them take it how they would; in truth it was +inspired in none of these ways, but was purely an expression of relief, +first at having brought Mistress Barbara safe to the Manor, in the +second place, at being quit of her society.</p> + +<p>"I am very curious to learn, Simon," said the Vicar, drawing his chair +near mine, and laying his hand upon my knee, "what passed at Dover. For +it seems to me that there, if at any place in the world,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_372" id="Page_372">[Pg 372]</a></span> the prophecy +which Betty Nasroth spoke concerning you——"</p> + +<p>"You shall know all in good time, sir," I cried impatiently.</p> + +<p>"Should find its fulfilment," ended the Vicar placidly.</p> + +<p>"Are we not finished with that folly yet?" asked my mother.</p> + +<p>"Simon must tell us that," smiled the Vicar.</p> + +<p>"In good time, in good time," I cried again. "But tell me first, when +did my lord come here from London?"</p> + +<p>"Why, a week ago. My lady was sick, and the physician prescribed the air +of the country for her. But my lord stayed four days only and then was +gone again."</p> + +<p>I started and sat upright in my seat.</p> + +<p>"What, isn't he here now?" I asked eagerly.</p> + +<p>"Why, Simon," said my good mother with a laugh, "we looked to get news +from you, and now we have news to give you! The King has sent for my +lord; I saw his message. It was most flattering and spoke of some urgent +and great business on which the King desired my lord's immediate +presence and counsel. So he set out two days ago to join the King with a +large train of servants, leaving behind my lady, who was too sick to +travel."</p> + +<p>I was surprised at these tidings and fell into deep consideration. What +need had the King of my lord's counsel, and so suddenly? What had been<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_373" id="Page_373">[Pg 373]</a></span> +done at Dover would not be opened to Lord Quinton's ear. Was he summoned +as a Lord of Council or as his daughter's father? For by now the King +must know certain matters respecting my lord's daughter and a humble +gentleman who had striven to serve her so far as his station enabled him +and without undue forwardness. We might well have passed my lord's coach +on the road and not remarked it among the many that met us as we drew +near to London in the evening. I had not observed his liveries, but that +went for nothing. I took heed of little on that journey save the bearing +of Mistress Barbara. Where lay the meaning of my lord's summons? It came +into my mind that M. de Perrencourt had sent messengers from Calais, and +that the King might be seeking to fulfil in another way the bargain +whose accomplishment I had hindered. The thought was new life to me. If +my work were not finished—. I broke off; the Vicar's hand was on my +knee again.</p> + +<p>"Touching the prophecy——" he began.</p> + +<p>"Indeed, sir, in good time you shall know all. It is fulfilled."</p> + +<p>"Fulfilled!" he cried rapturously. "Then, Simon, fortune smiles?"</p> + +<p>"No," I retorted, "she frowns most damnably."</p> + +<p>To swear is a sin, to swear before ladies is bad manners, to swear in +talking to a clergyman is worst of all. But while my mother and my +sister<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_374" id="Page_374">[Pg 374]</a></span> drew away in offence (and I hereby tender them an apology never +yet made) the Vicar only smiled.</p> + +<p>"A plague on such prophecies," said I sourly.</p> + +<p>"Yet if it be fulfilled!" he murmured. For he held more by that than by +any good fortune of mine; me he loved, but his magic was dearer to him. +"You must indeed tell me," he urged.</p> + +<p>My mother approached somewhat timidly.</p> + +<p>"You are come to stay with us, Simon?" she asked.</p> + +<p>"For the term of my life, so far as I know, madame," said I.</p> + +<p>"Thanks to God," she murmured softly.</p> + +<p>There is a sort of saying that a mother speaks and a son hears to his +shame and wonder! Her heart was all in me, while mine was far away. +Despondency had got hold of me. Fortune, in her merriest mood, seeming +bent on fooling me fairly, had opened a door and shown me the prospect +of fine doings and high ambitions realised. The glimpse had been but +brief, and the tricky creature shut the door in my face with a laugh. +Betty Nasroth's prophecy was fulfilled, but its accomplishment left me +in no better state; nay, I should be compelled to count myself lucky if +I came off unhurt and were not pursued by the anger of those great folk +whose wills and whims I had crossed. I must lie quiet in Hatchstead, and +to lie quiet in Hatchstead was hell to me—ay, hell, unless by<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_375" id="Page_375">[Pg 375]</a></span> some +miracle (whereof there was but one way) it should turn to heaven. That +was not for me; I was denied youth's sovereign balm for ill-starred +hopes and ambitions gone awry.</p> + +<p>The Vicar and I were alone now, and I could not but humour him by +telling what had passed. He heard with rare enjoyment; and although his +interest declined from its zenith so soon as I had told the last of the +prophecy, he listened to the rest with twinkling eyes. No comment did he +make, but took snuff frequently. I, my tale done, fell again into +meditation. Yet I had been fired by the rehearsal of my own story, and +my thoughts were less dark in hue. The news concerning Lord Quinton +stirred me afresh. My aid might again be needed; my melancholy was +tinted with pleasant pride as I declared to myself that it should not be +lacking, for all that I had been used as one would not use a faithful +dog, much less a gentleman who, doubtless by no merit of his own but yet +most certainly, had been of no small service. To confess the truth, I +was so persuaded of my value that I looked for every moment to bring me +a summons, and practised under my breath the terms, respectful yet +resentful, in which I would again place my arm and sword at Barbara's +disposal.</p> + +<p>"You loved this creature Nell?" asked the Vicar suddenly.</p> + +<p>"Ay," said I, "I loved her."</p> + +<p>"You love her no more?"</p> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_376" id="Page_376">[Pg 376]</a></span></p> +<p>"Why, no," I answered, mustering a cool smile. "Folly such as that goes +by with youth."</p> + +<p>"Your age is twenty-four?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, I am twenty-four."</p> + +<p>"And you love her no longer?"</p> + +<p>"I tell you, no longer, sir."</p> + +<p>The Vicar opened his box and took a large pinch.</p> + +<p>"Then," said he, the pinch being between his finger and thumb and just +half-way on the road to his nose, "you love some other woman, Simon."</p> + +<p>He spoke not as a man who asks a question nor even as one who hazards an +opinion; he declared a fact and needed no answer to confirm him. "Yes, +you love some other woman, Simon," said he, and there left the matter.</p> + +<p>"I don't," I cried indignantly. Had I told myself a hundred times that I +was not in love to be told by another that I was? True, I might have +been in love, had not——</p> + +<p>"Ah, who goes there?" exclaimed the Vicar, springing nimbly to the +window and looking out with eagerness. "I seem to know the gentleman. +Come, Simon, look."</p> + +<p>I obeyed him. A gentleman, attended by two servants, rode past rapidly; +twilight had begun to fall, but the light served well enough to show me +who the stranger was. He rode hard and his horse's head was towards the +Manor gates.</p> + +<p>"I think it is my Lord Carford," said the Vicar. "He goes to the Manor, +as I think."</p> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_377" id="Page_377">[Pg 377]</a></span></p> +<p>"I think it is and I think he does," said I; and for a single moment I +stood there in the middle of the room, hesitating, wavering, miserable.</p> + +<p>"What ails you, Simon? Why shouldn't my Lord Carford go to the Manor?" +cried the Vicar.</p> + +<p>"Let him go to the devil!" I cried, and I seized my hat from the table +where it lay.</p> + +<p>The Vicar turned to me with a smile on his lips.</p> + +<p>"Go, lad," said he, "and let me not hear you again deny my propositions. +They are founded on an extensive observation of humanity and——"</p> + +<p>Well, I know not to this day on what besides. For I was out of the house +before the Vicar completed his statement of the authority that underlay +his propositions.</p> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_378" id="Page_378">[Pg 378]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXI" id="CHAPTER_XXI"></a>CHAPTER XXI</h2> + +<h3>THE STRANGE CONJUNCTURE OF TWO GENTLEMEN</h3> + + +<p>I have heard it said that King Charles laughed most heartily when he +learnt how a certain gentleman had tricked M. de Perrencourt and carried +off from his clutches the lady who should have gone to prepare for the +Duchess of York's visit to the Court of France. "This Uriah will not be +set in the forefront of the battle," said he, "and therefore David can't +have his way." He would have laughed, I think, even although my action +had thwarted his own schemes, but the truth is that he had so wrought on +that same devotion to her religion which, according to Mistress Nell, +inspired Mlle. de Quérouaille that by the time the news came from Calais +he had little doubt of success for himself although his friend M. de +Perrencourt had been baffled. He had made his treaty, he had got his +money, and the lady, if she would not stay, yet promised to return. The +King then was well content, and found perhaps some sly satisfaction in +the defeat of the great Prince whose majesty and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_379" id="Page_379">[Pg 379]</a></span> dignity made any +reverse which befell him an amusement to less potent persons. In any +case the King laughed, then grew grave for a moment while he declared +that his best efforts should not be wanting to reclaim Mistress Quinton +to a sense of her duty, and then laughed again. Yet he set about +reclaiming her, although with no great energy or fierceness; and when he +heard that Monmouth had other views of the lady's duty, he shrugged his +shoulders, saying, "Nay, if there be two Davids, I'll wager a crown on +Uriah."</p> + +<p>It is easy to follow a man to the door of a house, but if the door be +shut after him and the pursuer not invited to enter, he can but stay +outside. So it fell out with me, and being outside I did not know what +passed within nor how my Lord Carford fared with Mistress Barbara. I +flung myself in deep chagrin on the grass of the Manor Park, cursing my +fate, myself, and if not Barbara, yet that perversity which was in all +women and, by logic, even in Mistress Barbara. But although I had no +part in it, the play went on and how it proceeded I learnt afterwards; +let me now leave the stage that I have held too long and pass out of +sight till my cue calls me again.</p> + +<p>This evening then, my lady, who was very sick, being in her bed, and +Mistress Barbara, although not sick, very weary of her solitude and +longing for the time when she could betake herself to the same refuge +(for there is a pride that forbids us to seek<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_380" id="Page_380">[Pg 380]</a></span> bed too early, however +strongly we desire it) there came a great knocking at the door of the +house. A gentleman on horseback and accompanied by two servants was +without and craved immediate audience of her ladyship. Hearing that she +was abed, he asked for Mistress Barbara and obtained entrance; yet he +would not give his name, but declared that he came on urgent business +from Lord Quinton. The excuse served, and Barbara received him. With +surprise she found Carford bowing low before her. I had told her enough +concerning him to prevent her welcome being warm. I would have told her +more, had she afforded me the opportunity. The imperfect knowledge that +she had caused her to accuse him rather of a timidity in face of +powerful rivals than of any deliberate design to set his love below his +ambition and to use her as his tool. Had she known all I knew she would +not have listened to him. Even now she made some pretext for declining +conversation that night and would have withdrawn at once; but he stayed +her retreat, earnestly praying her for her father's sake and her own to +hear his message, and asserting that she was in more danger than she was +aware of. Thus he persuaded her to be seated.</p> + +<p>"What is your message from my father, my lord?" she asked coldly, but +not uncivilly.</p> + +<p>"Madame, I have none," he answered with a bluntness not ill calculated. +"I used the excuse to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_381" id="Page_381">[Pg 381]</a></span> gain admission, fearing that my own devotion to +you would not suffice, well as you know it. But although I have no +message, I think that you will have one soon. Nay, you must listen." For +she had risen.</p> + +<p>"I listen, my lord, but I will listen standing."</p> + +<p>"You're hard to me, Mistress Barbara," he said. "But take the tidings +how you will; only pay heed to them." He drew nearer to her and +continued, "To-morrow a message will come from your father. You have had +none for many days?"</p> + +<p>"Alas, no," said she. "We were both on the road and could send no letter +to one another."</p> + +<p>"To-morrow one comes. May I tell you what it will say?"</p> + +<p>"How can you know what it will say, my lord?"</p> + +<p>"I will stand by the event," said he sturdily. "The coming of the letter +will prove me right or wrong. It will bid your mother and you accompany +the messenger——"</p> + +<p>"My mother cannot——"</p> + +<p>"Or, if your mother cannot, you alone, with some waiting-woman, to +Dover."</p> + +<p>"To Dover?" cried Barbara. "For what purpose?" She shrank away from him, +as though alarmed by the very name of the place whence she had escaped.</p> + +<p>He looked full in her face and answered slowly and significantly:</p> + +<p>"Madame goes back to France, and you are to go with her."</p> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_382" id="Page_382">[Pg 382]</a></span></p> +<p>Barbara caught at a chair near her and sank into it. He stood over her +now, speaking quickly and urgently.</p> + +<p>"You must listen," he said, "and lose no time in acting. A French +gentleman, by name M. de Fontelles, will be here to-morrow; he carries +your father's letter and is sent to bring you to Dover."</p> + +<p>"My father bids me come?" she cried.</p> + +<p>"His letter will convey the request," answered Carford.</p> + +<p>"Then I will go," said she. "I can't come to harm with him, and when I +have told him all, he won't allow me to go to France." For as yet my +lord did not know of what had befallen his daughter, nor did my lady, +whose sickness made her unfit to be burdened with such troublesome +matters.</p> + +<p>"Indeed you would come to no harm with your father, if you found your +father," said Carford. "Come, I will tell you. Before you reach Dover my +lord will have gone from there. As soon as his letter to you was sent +the King made a pretext to despatch him into Cornwall; he wrote again to +tell you of his journey and bid you not come to Dover till he sends for +you. This letter he entrusted to a messenger of my Lord Arlington's who +was taking the road for London. But the Secretary's messengers know when +to hasten and when to loiter on the way. You are to have set out before +the letter arrives."</p> + +<p>Barbara looked at him in bewilderment and terror;<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_383" id="Page_383">[Pg 383]</a></span> he was to all seeming +composed and spoke with an air of honest sincerity.</p> + +<p>"To speak plainly, it is a trick," he said, "to induce you to return to +Dover. This M. de Fontelles has orders to bring you at all hazards, and +is armed with the King's authority in case my lord's bidding should not +be enough."</p> + +<p>She sat for a while in helpless dismay. Carford had the wisdom not to +interrupt her thoughts; he knew that she was seeking for a plan of +escape and was willing to let her find that there was none.</p> + +<p>"When do you say that M. de Fontelles will be here?" she asked at last.</p> + +<p>"Late to-night or early to-morrow. He rested a few hours in London, +while I rode through, else I shouldn't have been here before him."</p> + +<p>"And why are you come, my lord?" she asked.</p> + +<p>"To serve you, madame," he answered simply.</p> + +<p>She drew herself up, saying haughtily,</p> + +<p>"You were not so ready to serve me at Dover."</p> + +<p>Carford was not disconcerted by an attack that he must have foreseen; he +had the parry ready for the thrust.</p> + +<p>"From the danger that I knew I guarded you, the other I did not know." +Then with a burst of well-feigned indignation he cried, "By Heaven, but +for me the French King would have been no peril to you; he would have +come too late."</p> + +<p>She understood him and flushed painfully.</p> + +<p>"When the enemy is mighty," he pursued, "we<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_384" id="Page_384">[Pg 384]</a></span> must fight by guile, not +force; when we can't oppose we must delay; we must check where we can't +stop. You know my meaning: to you I couldn't put it more plainly. But +now I have spoken plainly to the Duke of Monmouth, praying something +from him in my own name as well as yours. He is a noble Prince, madame, +and his offence should be pardoned by you who caused it. Had I thwarted +him openly, he would have been my enemy and yours. Now he is your friend +and mine."</p> + +<p>The defence was clever enough to bridle her indignation. He followed up +his advantage swiftly, leaving her no time to pry for a weak spot in his +pleading.</p> + +<p>"By Heaven," he cried, "let us lose no time on past troubles. I was to +blame, if you will, in execution, though not, I swear, in intention. But +here and now is the danger, and I am come to guard you from it."</p> + +<p>"Then I am much in your debt, my lord," said she, still doubtful, yet in +her trouble eager to believe him honest.</p> + +<p>"Nay," said he, "all that I have, madame, is yours, and you can't be in +debt to your slave."</p> + +<p>I do not doubt that in this speech his passion seemed real enough, and +was the more effective from having been suppressed till now, so that it +appeared to break forth against his will. Indeed although he was a man +in whom ambition held place of love, yet he loved her and would have +made her his for<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_385" id="Page_385">[Pg 385]</a></span> passion's sake as well as for the power that he hoped +to wield through her means. I hesitate how to judge him; there are many +men who take their colour from the times, as some insects from the +plants they feed on; in honest times they would be honest, in debauched +they follow the evil fashion, having no force to stand by themselves. +Perhaps this lord was one of this kidney.</p> + +<p>"It's an old story, this love of mine," said he in gentler tones. "Twice +you have heard it, and a lover who speaks twice must mourn once at +least; yet the second time I think you came nearer to heeding it. May I +tell it once again?"</p> + +<p>"Indeed it is not the time——" she began in an agitated voice.</p> + +<p>"Be your answer what it may, I am your servant," he protested. "My hand +and heart are yours, although yours be another's."</p> + +<p>"There is none—I am free—" she murmured. His eyes were on her and she +nerved herself to calm, saying, "There is nothing of what you suppose. +But my disposition towards you, my lord, has not changed."</p> + +<p>He let a moment go by before he answered her; he made it seem as though +emotion forbade earlier speech. Then he said gravely,</p> + +<p>"I am grieved from my heart to hear it, and I pray Heaven that an early +day may bring me another answer. God forbid that I should press your +inclination now. You may accept my service<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_386" id="Page_386">[Pg 386]</a></span> freely, although you do not +accept my love. Mistress Barbara, you'll come with me?"</p> + +<p>"Come with you?" she cried.</p> + +<p>"My lady will come also, and we three together will seek your father in +Cornwall. On my faith, madame, there is no safety but in flight."</p> + +<p>"My mother lies too sick for travelling. Didn't you hear it from my +father?"</p> + +<p>"I haven't seen my lord. My knowledge of his letter came through the +Duke of Monmouth, and although he spoke there of my lady's sickness, I +trusted that she had recovered."</p> + +<p>"My mother cannot travel. It is impossible."</p> + +<p>He came a step nearer her.</p> + +<p>"Fontelles will be here to-morrow," he said. "If you are here then——! +Yet if there be any other whose aid you could seek——?" Again he +paused, regarding her intently.</p> + +<p>She sat in sore distress, twisting her hands in her lap. One there was, +and not far away. Yet to send for him crossed her resolution and stung +her pride most sorely. We had parted in anger, she and I; I had blamed +my share in the quarrel bitterly enough, it is likely she had spared +herself no more; yet the more fault is felt the harder comes its +acknowledgment.</p> + +<p>"Is Mr Dale in Hatchstead?" asked Carford boldly and bluntly.</p> + +<p>"I don't know where he is. He brought me here, but I have heard nothing +from him since we parted."</p> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_387" id="Page_387">[Pg 387]</a></span></p> +<p>"Then surely he is gone again?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know," said Barbara.</p> + +<p>Carford must have been a dull man indeed not to discern how the matter +lay. There is no better time to press a lady than when she is chagrined +with a rival and all her pride is under arms to fight her inclination.</p> + +<p>"Surely, or he could not have shewn you such indifference—nay, I must +call it discourtesy."</p> + +<p>"He did me service."</p> + +<p>"A gentleman, madame, should grow more, not less, assiduous when he is +so happy as to have put a lady under obligation."</p> + +<p>He had said enough, and restrained himself from a further attack.</p> + +<p>"What will you do?" he went on.</p> + +<p>"Alas, what can I do?" Then she cried, "This M. de Fontelles can't carry +me off against my will."</p> + +<p>"He has the King's commands," said Carford. "Who will resist him?"</p> + +<p>She sprang to her feet and turned on him quickly.</p> + +<p>"Why you," she said. "Alone with you I cannot and will not go. But you +are my—you are ready to serve me. You will resist M. de Fontelles for +my sake, ay, and for my sake the King's commands."</p> + +<p>Carford stood still, amazed at the sudden change in her manner. He had +not conceived this demand and it suited him very ill. The stroke was too +bold<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_388" id="Page_388">[Pg 388]</a></span> for his temper; the King was interested in this affair, and it +might go hard with the man who upset his plan and openly resisted his +messenger. Carford had calculated on being able to carry her off, and +thus defeat the scheme under show of ignorance. The thing done, and done +unwittingly, might gain pardon; to meet and defy the enemy face to face +was to stake all his fortune on a desperate chance. He was dumb. +Barbara's lips curved into a smile that expressed wonder and dawning +contempt.</p> + +<p>"You hesitate, sir?" she asked.</p> + +<p>"The danger is great," he muttered.</p> + +<p>"You spoke of discourtesy just now, my lord——"</p> + +<p>"You do not lay it to my charge?"</p> + +<p>"Nay, to refuse to face danger for a lady, and a lady whom a man +loves—you meant that, my lord?—goes by another name. I forgive +discourtesy sooner than that other thing, my lord."</p> + +<p>His face grew white with passion. She accused him of cowardice and +plainly hinted to him that, if he failed her, she would turn to one who +was no coward, let him be as discourteous and indifferent as his sullen +disposition made him. I am sorry I was not there to see Carford's face. +But he was in the net of her challenge now, and a bold front alone would +serve.</p> + +<p>"By God, madame," he cried, "you shall know by to-morrow how deeply you +wrong me. If my head must answer for it, you shall have the proof."</p> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_389" id="Page_389">[Pg 389]</a></span></p> +<p>"I thank you, my lord," said she with a little bow, as though she asked +no more than her due in demanding that he should risk his head for her. +"I did not doubt your answer."</p> + +<p>"You shall have no cause, madame," said he very boldly, although he +could not control the signs of his uneasiness.</p> + +<p>"Again I thank you," said she. "It grows late, my lord. By your +kindness, I shall sleep peacefully and without fear. Good-night." She +moved towards the door, but turned to him again, saying, "I pray your +pardon, but even hospitality must give way to sickness. I cannot +entertain you suitably while my mother lies abed. If you lodge at the +inn, they will treat you well for my father's sake, and a message from +me can reach you easily."</p> + +<p>Carford had strung himself to give the promise; whether he would fulfil +it or not lay uncertain in the future. But for so much as he had done he +had a mind to be paid. He came to her, and, kneeling, took her hand; she +suffered him to kiss it.</p> + +<p>"There is nothing I wouldn't do to win my prize," he said, fixing his +eyes ardently on her face.</p> + +<p>"I have asked nothing but what you seemed to offer," she answered +coldly. "If it be a matter of bargain, my lord——"</p> + +<p>"No, no," he cried, seeking to catch again at her hand as she drew it +away and with a curtsey passed out.</p> + +<p>Thus she left him without so much as a back<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_390" id="Page_390">[Pg 390]</a></span>ward glance to presage +future favour. So may a lady, if she plays her game well, take all and +promise nothing.</p> + +<p>Carford, refused even a lodging in the house, crossed in the plan by +which he had reckoned on getting Barbara into his power, driven to an +enterprise for which he had small liking, and left in utter doubt +whether the success for which he ran so great a risk would profit him, +may well have sought the inn to which Barbara commended him in no +cheerful mood. I wager he swore a round oath or two as he and his +servants made their way thither through the dark and knocked up the +host, who, keeping country hours, was already in his bed. It cost them +some minutes to rouse him, and Carford beat most angrily on the door. At +last they were admitted. And I turned away.</p> + +<p>For I must confess it; I had dogged their steps, not able to rest till I +saw what would become of Carford. Yet we must give love his due; if he +takes a man into strange places, sometimes he shows him things worth his +knowing. If I, a lovesick fool, had watched a rival into my mistress's +house and watched him out of it with devouring jealousy, ay, if I had +chosen to spend my time beneath the Manor windows rather than in my own +comfortable chair, why, I had done only what many who are now wise and +sober gentleman have done in their time. And if once in that same park I +had declared my heart broken for the sake of another lady, there are +revolutions<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_391" id="Page_391">[Pg 391]</a></span> in hearts as in states, and, after the rebels have had +their day, the King comes to his own again. Nay, I have known some who +were very loyal to King Charles, and yet said nothing hard of Oliver, +whose yoke they once had worn. I will say nought against my usurper, +although the Queen may have come to her own again.</p> + +<p>Well, Carford should not have her. I, Simon Dale, might be the greatest +fool in the King's dominions, and lie sulking while another stormed the +citadel on which I longed to plant my flag. But the victor should not be +Carford. Among gentlemen a quarrel is easily come by; yokels may mouth +their blowsy sweetheart's name and fight openly for her favour over +their mugs of ale; we quarrel on the state of the Kingdom, the fall of +the cards, the cut of our coats, what you will. Carford and I would find +a cause without much searching. I was so hot that I was within an ace of +summoning him then and there to show by what right he rode so boldly +through my native village; that offence would serve as well as any +other. Yet prudence prevailed. The closed doors of the inn hid the party +from my sight, and I went on my way, determined to be about by cockcrow, +lest Carford should steal a march.</p> + +<p>But as I went I passed the Vicar's door. He stood on the threshold, +smoking his long pipe (the good man loved Virginia and gave his love +free rein in the evening) and gazing at the sky. I tried<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_392" id="Page_392">[Pg 392]</a></span> to slink by +him, fearing to be questioned; he caught sight of my figure and called +me to him; but he made no reference to the manner of our last parting.</p> + +<p>"Whither away, Simon?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"To bed, sir," said I.</p> + +<p>"It is well," said he. "And whence?"</p> + +<p>"From a walk, sir."</p> + +<p>His eyes met mine, and I saw them twinkle. He waved the stem of his pipe +in the air, and said,</p> + +<p>"Love, Simon, is a divine distemper of the mind, wherein it paints bliss +with woe's palate and sees heaven from hell."</p> + +<p>"You borrow from the poets, sir," said I surlily.</p> + +<p>"Nay," he rejoined, "the poets from me, or from any man who has or has +had a heart in him. What, Simon, you leave me?" For I had turned away.</p> + +<p>"It's late, sir," said I, "for the making of rhapsodies."</p> + +<p>"You've made yours," he smiled. "Hark, what's that?"</p> + +<p>As he spoke there came the sound of horse's hoofs. A moment later the +figures of two mounted men emerged from the darkness. By some impulse, I +know not what, I ran behind the Vicar and sheltered myself in the porch +at his back. Carford's arrival had set my mind astir again, and new +events found ready welcome. The Vicar stepped out a pace into the road +with his hand over his eyes, and peered at the strangers.</p> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_393" id="Page_393">[Pg 393]</a></span></p> +<p>"What do you call this place, sir?" came in a loud voice from the nearer +of the riders. I started at the voice; it had struck on my ears before, +and no Englishman owned it.</p> + +<p>"It is the village of Hatchstead, at your service," answered the Vicar.</p> + +<p>"Is there an inn in it?"</p> + +<p>"Ride for half a mile and you'll find a good one."</p> + +<p>"I thank you, sir."</p> + +<p>I could hold myself in no longer, but pushed the Vicar aside and ran out +into the road. The horsemen had already turned their faces towards the +inn, and walked along slowly, as though they were weary. "Good-night," +cried the Vicar—whether to them or to me or to all creation I know not. +The door closed on him. I stood for an instant, watching the retreating +form of the man who had enquired the way. A spirit of high excitement +came on me; it might be that all was not finished, and that Betty +Nasroth's prophecy should not bind the future in fetters. For there at +the inn was Carford, and here, if I did not err, was the man whom my +knowledge of French had so perplexed in the inn at Canterbury.</p> + +<p>And Carford knew Fontelles. On what errand did they come? Were they +friends to one another or foes? If friends, they should find an enemy; +if foes, there was another to share their battle. I could not tell the +meaning of this strange conjuncture whereby the two came to Hatchstead; +yet my<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_394" id="Page_394">[Pg 394]</a></span> guess was not far out, and I hailed the prospect that it gave +with a fierce exultation. Nay I laughed aloud, but first knew that I +laughed when suddenly M. de Fontelles turned in his saddle, crying in +French to his servant:</p> + +<p>"What was that?"</p> + +<p>"Something laughed," answered the fellow in an alarmed voice.</p> + +<p>"Something? You mean somebody."</p> + +<p>"I know not, it sounded strange."</p> + +<p>I had stepped in under the hedge when Fontelles turned, but his puzzle +and the servant's superstitious fear wrought on my excitement. Nothing +would serve me but to play a jest on the Frenchman. I laughed again +loudly.</p> + +<p>"God save us!" cried the servant, and I make no doubt he crossed himself +most piously.</p> + +<p>"It's some madman got loose," said M. de Fontelles scornfully. "Come, +let's get on."</p> + +<p>It was a boy's trick—a very boy's trick. Save that I set down +everything I would not tell it. I put my hands to my mouth and bellowed:</p> + +<p>"<i>Il vient!</i>"</p> + +<p>An oath broke from Fontelles. I darted into the middle of the road and +for a moment stood there laughing again. He had wheeled his horse round, +but did not advance towards me. I take it that he was amazed, or, it may +be, searching a bewildered memory.</p> + +<p>"<i>Il vient!</i>" I cried again in my folly, and, turning,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_395" id="Page_395">[Pg 395]</a></span> ran down the +road at my best speed, laughing still. Fontelles made no effort to +follow me, yet on I ran, till I came to my mother's house. Stopping +there, panting and breathless, I cried in the exuberance of triumph:</p> + +<p>"Now she'll have need of me!"</p> + +<p>Certainly the thing the Vicar spoke of is a distemper. Whether divine or +of what origin I will not have judged by that night's prank of mine.</p> + +<p>"They'll do very well together at the inn," I laughed, as I flung myself +on my bed.</p> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_396" id="Page_396">[Pg 396]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXII" id="CHAPTER_XXII"></a>CHAPTER XXII</h2> + +<h3>THE DEVICE OF LORD CARFORD</h3> + + +<p>It is not my desire to assail, not is it my part to defend, the +reputation of the great. There is no such purpose in anything that I +have written here. History is their judge, and our own weakness their +advocate. Some said, and many believed, that Madame brought the young +French lady in her train to Dover with the intention that the thing +should happen which happened. I had rather hold, if it be possible to +hold, that a Princess so gracious and so unfortunate meant innocently, +and was cajoled or overborne by the persuasions of her kinsmen, and +perhaps by some specious pretext of State policy. In like manner I am +reluctant to think that she planned harm for Mistress Barbara, towards +whom she had a true affection, and I will read in an honest sense, if I +can, the letter which M. de Fontelles brought with him to Hatchstead. In +it Madame touched with a light discretion on what had passed, deplored +with pretty gravity the waywardness of men, and her own simplicity which +made her a prey to their devices and rendered her less useful to her<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_397" id="Page_397">[Pg 397]</a></span> +friends than she desired to be. Yet now she was warned, her eyes were +open, she would guard her own honour, and that of any who would trust to +her. Nay, he himself, M. de Perrencourt, was penitent (even as was the +Duke of Monmouth!), and had sworn to trouble her and her friends no +more. Would not then her sweet Mistress Barbara, with whom she vowed she +had fallen so mightily in love, come back to her and go with her to +France, and be with her until the Duchess of York came, and, in good +truth, as much longer as Barbara would linger, and Barbara's father in +his kindness suffer. So ran the letter, and it seemed an honest letter. +But I do not know; and if it were honest, yet who dared trust to it? +Grant Madame the best of will, where lay her power to resist M. de +Perrencourt? But M. de Perrencourt was penitent. Ay, his penitence was +for having let the lady go, and would last until she should be in his +power again.</p> + +<p>Let the intent of the letter he carried be what it might, M. de +Fontelles, a gentleman of courage and high honour, believed his business +honest. He had not been at Dover, and knew nothing of what had passed +there; if he were an instrument in wicked schemes, he did not know the +mind of those who employed him. He came openly to Hatchstead on an +honourable mission, as he conceived, and bearing an invitation which +should give great gratification to the lady to whom it was addressed.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_398" id="Page_398">[Pg 398]</a></span> +Madame did Mistress Quinton the high compliment of desiring her company, +and would doubtless recompense her well for the service she asked. +Fontelles saw no more and asked no more. In perfect confidence and +honesty he set about his task, not imagining that he had been sent on an +errand with which any man could reproach him, or with a purpose that +gave any the right of questioning his actions. Nor did my cry of "<i>Il +vient</i>" change this mood in him. When he collected his thoughts and +recalled the incident in which those words had played a part before, he +saw in them the challenge of someone who had perhaps penetrated a State +secret, and was ill-affected towards the King and the King's policy; +but, being unaware of any connection between Mistress Barbara and M. de +Perrencourt, he did not associate the silly cry with the object of his +present mission. So also, on hearing that a gentleman was at the inn +(Carford had not given his name) and had visited the Manor, he was in no +way disquieted, but ready enough to meet any number of gentlemen without +fearing their company or their scrutiny.</p> + +<p>Gaily and courteously he presented himself to Barbara. Her mother lay +still in bed, and she received him alone in the room looking out on the +terrace. With a low bow and words of deference he declared his errand, +and delivered to her the letter he bore from Madame, making bold to add +his own hopes that Mistress Quinton would not<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_399" id="Page_399">[Pg 399]</a></span> send him back +unsuccessful, but let him win the praise of a trustworthy messenger. +Then he twirled his moustaches, smiled gallantly, and waited with all +composure while she read the letter. Indeed he deserves some pity, for +women are wont to spend much time on reasoning in such a case. When a +man comes on a business which they suspect to be evil, they make no ado +about holding him a party to it, and that without inquiring whether he +knows the thing to which he is setting his hand.</p> + +<p>Barbara read her letter through once and a second time; then, without a +word to Fontelles, aye, not so much as bidding him be seated, she called +a servant and sent him to the inn to summon Carford to her. She spoke +low, and the Frenchman did not hear. When they were again alone +together, Barbara walked to the window, and stood there looking out. +Fontelles, growing puzzled and ill at ease, waited some moments before +he ventured to address her; her air was not such as to encourage him; +her cheek was reddened and her eyes were indignant. Yet at last he +plucked up his courage.</p> + +<p>"I trust, madame," said he, "that I may carry the fairest of answers +back with me?"</p> + +<p>"What answer is that, sir?" she asked, half-turning to him with a +scornful glance.</p> + +<p>"Yourself, madame, if you will so honour me," he answered, bowing. "Your +coming would be<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_400" id="Page_400">[Pg 400]</a></span> the answer best pleasing to Madame, and the best +fulfilment of my errand."</p> + +<p>She looked at him coolly for a moment or two, and then said,</p> + +<p>"I have sent for a gentleman who will advise me on my answer."</p> + +<p>M. de Fontelles raised his brows, and replied somewhat stiffly,</p> + +<p>"You are free, madame, to consult whom you will, although I had hoped +that the matter needed but little consideration."</p> + +<p>She turned full on him in a fury.</p> + +<p>"I thank you for your judgment of me, sir," she cried. "Or is it that +you think me a fool to be blinded by this letter?"</p> + +<p>"Before heaven——" began the puzzled gentleman.</p> + +<p>"I know, sir, in what esteem a woman's honour is held in your country +and at your King's Court."</p> + +<p>"In as high, madame, as in your country and at your Court."</p> + +<p>"Yes, that's true. God help me, that's true! But we are not at Court +now, sir. Hasn't it crossed your mind that such an errand as yours may +be dangerous?"</p> + +<p>"I had not thought it," said he with a smile and a shrug. "But, pardon +me, I do not fear the danger."</p> + +<p>"Neither danger nor disgrace?" she sneered.</p> + +<p>Fontelles flushed.</p> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_401" id="Page_401">[Pg 401]</a></span></p> +<p>"A lady, madame, may say what she pleases," he remarked with a bow.</p> + +<p>"Oh, enough of pretences," she cried. "Shall we speak openly?"</p> + +<p>"With all my heart, madame," said he, lost between anger and +bewilderment.</p> + +<p>For a moment it seemed as though she would speak, but the shame of open +speech was too great for her. In his ignorance and wonder he could do +nothing to aid her.</p> + +<p>"I won't speak of it," she said. "It's a man's part to tell you the +truth, and to ask account from you. I won't soil my lips with it."</p> + +<p>Fontelles took a step towards her, seeking how he could assuage a fury +that he did not understand.</p> + +<p>"As God lives——" he began gravely. Barbara would not give him +opportunity.</p> + +<p>"I pray you," she cried, "stand aside and allow me to pass. I will not +stay longer with you. Let me pass to the door, sir. I'll send a +gentleman to speak with you."</p> + +<p>Fontelles, deeply offended, utterly at a loss, flung the door open for +her and stood aside to let her pass.</p> + +<p>"Madame," he said, "it must be that you misapprehend."</p> + +<p>"Misapprehend? Yes, or apprehend too clearly!"</p> + +<p>"As I am a gentleman——"</p> + +<p>"I do not grant it, sir," she interrupted.</p> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_402" id="Page_402">[Pg 402]</a></span></p> +<p>He was silent then; bowing again, he drew a pace farther back. She stood +for a moment, looking scornfully at him. Then with a curtsey she bade +him farewell and passed out, leaving him in as sad a condition as ever +woman's way left man since the world began.</p> + +<p>Now, for reasons that have been set out, Carford received his summons +with small pleasure, and obeyed it so leisurely that M. de Fontelles had +more time than enough in which to rack his brains for the meaning of +Mistress Barbara's taunts. But he came no nearer the truth, and was +reduced to staring idly out of the window till the gentleman who was to +make the matter plain should arrive. Thus he saw Carford coming up to +the house on foot, slowly and heavily, with a gloomy face and a nervous +air. Fontelles uttered an exclamation of joy; he had known Carford, and +a friend's aid would put him right with this hasty damsel who denied him +even the chance of self-defence. He was aware also that, in spite of his +outward devotion to the Duke of Monmouth, Carford was in reality of the +French party. So he was about to run out and welcome him, when his steps +were stayed by the sight of Mistress Barbara herself, who flew to meet +the new-comer with every sign of eagerness. Carford saluted her, and the +pair entered into conversation on the terrace, Fontelles watching them +from the window. To his fresh amazement, the interview seemed hardly +less fierce than his own had been.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_403" id="Page_403">[Pg 403]</a></span> The lady appeared to press some +course on her adviser, which the adviser was loth to take; she insisted, +growing angry in manner; he, having fenced for awhile and protested, +sullenly gave way; he bowed acquiescence while his demeanour asserted +disapproval, she made nothing of his disapproval and received his +acquiescence with a scorn little disguised. Carford passed on to the +house; Barbara did not follow him, but, flinging herself on a marble +seat, covered her face with her hands and remained there in an attitude +which spoke of deep agitation and misery.</p> + +<p>"By my faith," cried honest M. de Fontelles, "this matter is altogether +past understanding!"</p> + +<p>A moment later Carford entered the room and greeted him with great +civility. M. de Fontelles lost no time in coming to the question; his +grievance was strong and bitter, and he poured out his heart without +reserve. Carford listened, saying little, but being very attentive and +keeping his shrewd eyes on the other's face. Indignation carried +Fontelles back and forwards along the length of the room in restless +paces; Carford sat in a chair, quiet and wary, drinking in all that the +angry gentleman said. My Lord Carford was not one who believed hastily +in the honour and honesty of his fellow-men, nor was he prone to expect +a simple heart rather than a long head; but soon he perceived that the +Frenchman was in very truth ignorant of what lay behind his mission, and +that Barbara's usage of him caused<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_404" id="Page_404">[Pg 404]</a></span> genuine and not assumed offence. The +revelation set my lord a-thinking.</p> + +<p>"And she sends for you to advise her?" cried Fontelles. "That, my +friend, is good; you can advise her only in one fashion."</p> + +<p>"I don't know that," said Carford, feeling his way.</p> + +<p>"It is because you don't know all. I have spoken gently to her, seeking +to win her by persuasion. But to you I may speak plainly. I have direct +orders from the King to bring her and to suffer no man to stop me. +Indeed, my dear lord, there is no choice open to you. You wouldn't +resist the King's command?"</p> + +<p>Yet Barbara demanded that he should resist even the King's command. +Carford said nothing, and the impetuous Frenchman ran on:</p> + +<p>"Nay, it would be the highest offence to myself to hinder me. Indeed, my +lord, all my regard for you could not make me suffer it. I don't know +what this lady has against me, nor who has put this nonsense in her +head. It cannot be you? You don't doubt my honour? You don't taunt me +when I call myself a gentleman?"</p> + +<p>He came to a pause before Carford, expecting an answer to his hot +questions. He saw offence in the mere fact that Carford was still +silent.</p> + +<p>"Come, my lord," he cried, "I do not take pleasure in seeing you think +so long. Isn't your answer easy?" He assumed an air of challenge.</p> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_405" id="Page_405">[Pg 405]</a></span></p> +<p>Carford was, I have no doubt, most plagued and perplexed. He could have +dealt better with a knave than with this fiery gentleman. Barbara had +demanded of him that he should resist even the King's command. He might +escape that perilous obligation by convincing Fontelles himself that he +was a tool in hands less honourable than his own; then the Frenchman +would in all likelihood abandon his enterprise. But with him would go +Carford's hold on Barbara and his best prospect of winning her; for in +her trouble lay his chance. If, on the other hand, he quarrelled openly +with Fontelles, he must face the consequences he feared or incur +Barbara's unmeasured scorn. He could not solve the puzzle and determined +to seek a respite.</p> + +<p>"I do not doubt your honour, sir," he said. Fontelles bowed gravely. +"But there is more in this matter than you know. I must beg a few hours +for consideration and then I will tell you all openly."</p> + +<p>"My orders will not endure much delay."</p> + +<p>"You can't take the lady by force."</p> + +<p>"I count on the aid of my friends and the King's to persuade her to +accompany me willingly."</p> + +<p>I do not know whether the words brought the idea suddenly and as if with +a flash into Carford's head. It may have been there dim and vague +before, but now it was clear. He paused on his way to the door, and +turned back with brightened eyes. He gave a careless laugh, saying,</p> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_406" id="Page_406">[Pg 406]</a></span></p> +<p>"My dear Fontelles, you have more than me to reckon with before you take +her away."</p> + +<p>"What do you mean, my lord?"</p> + +<p>"Why, men in love are hard to reason with, and with fools in love there +is no reasoning at all. Come, I'm your friend, although there is for the +moment a difficulty that keeps us apart. Do you chance to remember our +meeting at Canterbury?"</p> + +<p>"Why, very well."</p> + +<p>"And a young fellow who talked French to you?" Carford laughed again. +"He disturbed you mightily by calling out——"</p> + +<p>"'<i>Il vient!</i>'" cried Fontelles, all on the alert.</p> + +<p>"Precisely. Well, he may disturb you again."</p> + +<p>"By Heaven, then he's here?"</p> + +<p>"Why, yes."</p> + +<p>"I met him last night! He cried those words to me again. The insolent +rascal! I'll make him pay for it."</p> + +<p>"In truth you've a reckoning to settle with him."</p> + +<p>"But how does he come into this matter?"</p> + +<p>"Insolent still, he's a suitor for Mistress Quinton's hand."</p> + +<p>Fontelles gave a scornful shrug of his shoulders; Carford, smiling and +more at ease, watched him. The idea promised well; it would be a stroke +indeed could the quarrel be shifted on to my shoulders, and M. de +Fontelles and I set by the ears; whatever the issue of that difference, +Carford stood to win by it.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_407" id="Page_407">[Pg 407]</a></span> And I, not he, would be the man to resist +the King's commands.</p> + +<p>"But how comes he here?" cried Fontelles.</p> + +<p>"The fellow was born here. He is an old neighbour of Mistress Quinton."</p> + +<p>"Dangerous then?"</p> + +<p>It was Carford's turn to shrug his shoulders, as he said,</p> + +<p>"Fools are always dangerous. Well, I'll leave you. I want to think. Only +remember; if you please to be on your guard against me, why, be more on +your guard against Simon Dale."</p> + +<p>"He dares not stop me. Nay, why should he? What I propose is for the +lady's advantage."</p> + +<p>Carford saw the quarrel he desired fairly in the making. M. de Fontelles +was honest, M. de Fontelles was hot-tempered, M. de Fontelles would be +told that he was a rogue. To Carford this seemed enough.</p> + +<p>"You would do yourself good if you convinced him of that," he answered. +"For though she would not, I think, become his wife, he has the +influence of long acquaintance, and might use it against you. But +perhaps you're too angry with him?"</p> + +<p>"My duty comes before my quarrel," said Fontelles. "I will seek this +gentleman."</p> + +<p>"As you will. I think you're wise. They will know at the inn where to +find him."</p> + +<p>"I will see him at once," cried Fontelles. "I<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_408" id="Page_408">[Pg 408]</a></span> have, it seems, two +matters to settle with this gentleman."</p> + +<p>Carford, concealing his exultation, bade M. de Fontelles do as seemed +best to him. Fontelles, declaring again that the success of his mission +was nearest his heart, but in truth eager to rebuke or chasten my +mocking disrespect, rushed from the room. Carford followed more +leisurely. He had at least time for consideration now; and there were +the chances of this quarrel all on his side.</p> + +<p>"Will you come with me?" asked Fontelles.</p> + +<p>"Nay, it's no affair of mine. But if you need me later——" He nodded. +If it came to a meeting, his services were ready.</p> + +<p>"I thank you, my lord," said the Frenchman, understanding his offer.</p> + +<p>They were now at the door, and stepped out on the terrace. Barbara, +hearing their tread, looked up. She detected the eagerness in M. de +Fontelles' manner. He went up to her at once.</p> + +<p>"Madame," he said, "I am forced to leave you for a while, but I shall +soon return. May I pray you to greet me more kindly when I return?"</p> + +<p>"In frankness, sir, I should be best pleased if you did not return," she +said coldly, then, turning to Carford, she looked inquiringly at him. +She conceived that he had done her bidding, and thought that the +gentlemen concealed their quarrel from her. "You go with M. de +Fontelles, my lord?" she asked.</p> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_409" id="Page_409">[Pg 409]</a></span></p> +<p>"With your permission, I remain here," he answered.</p> + +<p>She was vexed, and rose to her feet as she cried,</p> + +<p>"Then where is M. de Fontelles going?"</p> + +<p>Fontelles took the reply for himself.</p> + +<p>"I am going to seek a gentleman with whom I have business," said he.</p> + +<p>"You have none with my Lord Carford?"</p> + +<p>"What I have with him will wait."</p> + +<p>"He desires it should wait?" she asked in a quick tone.</p> + +<p>"Yes, madame."</p> + +<p>"I'd have sworn it," said Barbara Quinton.</p> + +<p>"But with Mr Simon Dale——"</p> + +<p>"With Simon Dale? What concern have you with Simon Dale?"</p> + +<p>"He has mocked me twice, and I believe hinders me now," returned +Fontelles, his hot temper rising again.</p> + +<p>Barbara clasped her hands, and cried triumphantly,</p> + +<p>"Go to him, go to him. Heaven is good to me! Go to Simon Dale!"</p> + +<p>The amazed eyes of Fontelles and the sullen enraged glance of Carford +recalled her to wariness. Yet the avowal (O, that it had pleased God I +should hear it!) must have its price and its penalty. A burning flush +spread over her face and even to the border of the gown on her neck. But +she was<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_410" id="Page_410">[Pg 410]</a></span> proud in her shame, and her eyes met theirs in a level gaze.</p> + +<p>To Fontelles her bearing and the betrayal of herself brought fresh and +strong confirmation of Carford's warning. But he was a gentleman, and +would not look at her when her blushes implored the absence of his eyes.</p> + +<p>"I go to seek Mr Dale," said he gravely, and without more words turned +on his heel.</p> + +<p>In a sudden impulse, perhaps a sudden doubt of her judgment of him, +Barbara darted after him.</p> + +<p>"For what purpose do you seek him?"</p> + +<p>"Madame," he answered, "I cannot tell you."</p> + +<p>She looked for a moment keenly in his face; her breath came quick and +fast, the hue of her cheek flashed from red to white.</p> + +<p>"Mr Dale," said she, drawing herself up, "will not fear to meet you."</p> + +<p>Again Fontelles bowed, turned, and was gone, swiftly and eagerly +striding down the avenue, bent on finding me.</p> + +<p>Barbara was left alone with Carford. His heavy frown and surly eyes +accused her. She had no mind to accept the part of the guilty.</p> + +<p>"Well, my lord," she said, "have you told this M. de Fontelles what +honest folk would think of him and his errand?"</p> + +<p>"I believe him to be honest," answered Carford.</p> + +<p>"You live the quieter for your belief!" she cried contemptuously.</p> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_411" id="Page_411">[Pg 411]</a></span></p> +<p>"I live the less quiet for what I have seen just now," he retorted.</p> + +<p>There was a silence. Barbara stood with heaving breast, he opposite to +her, still and sullen. She looked long at him, but at last seemed not to +see him; then she spoke in soft tones, not as though to him, but rather +in an answer to her own heart, whose cry could go no more unheeded. Her +eyes grew soft and veiled in a mist of tears that did not fall. (So I +see it—she told me no more than that she was near crying.)</p> + +<p>"I couldn't send for him," she murmured. "I wouldn't send for him. But +now he will come, yes, he'll come now."</p> + +<p>Carford, driven half-mad by an outburst which his own device had caused, +moved by whatever of true love he had for her, and by his great rage and +jealousy against me, fairly ran at her and caught her by the wrist.</p> + +<p>"Why do you talk of him? Do you love him?" he said from between clenched +teeth.</p> + +<p>She looked at him, half-angry, half-wondering. Then she said,</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>"Nell Gwyn's lover?" said Carford.</p> + +<p>Her cheek flushed again, and a sob caught her voice as it came.</p> + +<p>"Yes," said she. "Nell Gywn's lover."</p> + +<p>"You love him?"</p> + +<p>"Always, always, always." Then she drew herself<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_412" id="Page_412">[Pg 412]</a></span> near to him in a sudden +terror. "Not a word, not a word," she cried. "I don't know what you are, +I don't trust you; forgive me, forgive me; but whatever you are, for +pity's sake, ah, my dear lord, for pity's sake, don't tell him. Not a +word!"</p> + +<p>"I will not speak of it to M. de Fontelles," said Carford.</p> + +<p>An amazed glance was followed by a laugh that seemed half a sob.</p> + +<p>"M. de Fontelles! M. de Fontelles! No, no, but don't tell Simon."</p> + +<p>Carford's lips bent in a forced smile uglier than a scowl.</p> + +<p>"You love this fellow?"</p> + +<p>"You have heard."</p> + +<p>"And he loves you?"</p> + +<p>The sneer was bitter and strong. In it seemed now to lie Carford's only +hope. Barbara met his glance an instant, and her answer to him was,</p> + +<p>"Go, go."</p> + +<p>"He loves you?"</p> + +<p>"Leave me. I beg you to leave me. Ah, God, won't you leave me?"</p> + +<p>"He loves you?"</p> + +<p>Her face went white. For a while she said nothing; then in a calm quiet +voice, whence all life and feeling, almost all intelligence, seemed to +have gone, she answered,</p> + +<p>"I think not, my lord."</p> + +<p>He laughed. "Leave me," she said again, and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_413" id="Page_413">[Pg 413]</a></span> he, in grace of what +manhood there was in him, turned on his heel and went. She stood alone, +there on the terrace.</p> + +<p>Ah, if God had let me be there! Then she should not have stood desolate, +nor flung herself again on the marble seat. Then she should not have +wept as though her heart broke, and all the world were empty. If I had +been there, not the cold marble should have held her, and for every +sweetest tear there should have been a sweeter kiss. Grief should have +been drowned in joy, while love leapt to love in the fulness of delight. +Alas for pride, breeder of misery! Not life itself is so long as to give +atonement to her for that hour; though she has said that one moment, a +certain moment, was enough.</p> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_414" id="Page_414">[Pg 414]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXIII" id="CHAPTER_XXIII"></a>CHAPTER XXIII</h2> + + +<h3>A PLEASANT PENITENCE</h3> + + +<p>There was this great comfort in the Vicar's society that, having once +and for all stated the irrefutable proposition which I have recorded, he +let the matter alone. Nothing was further from his thoughts than to +argue on it, unless it might be to take any action in regard to it. To +say the truth, and I mean no unkindness to him in saying it, the affair +did not greatly engage his thoughts. Had Betty Nasroth dealt with it, +the case would doubtless have been altered, and he would have followed +its fortune with a zest as keen as that he had bestowed on my earlier +unhappy passion. But the prophecy had stopped short, and all that was of +moment for the Vicar in my career, whether in love, war, or State, was +finished; I had done and undergone what fate declared and demanded, and +must now live in gentle resignation. Indeed I think that in his inmost +heart he wondered a little to find me living on at all. This attitude +was very well for him, and I found some amusement in it even while I +chafed at his composed acquiescence in my misfortunes. But at times I +grew<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_415" id="Page_415">[Pg 415]</a></span> impatient, and would fling myself out of the house, crying "Plague +on it, is this old crone not only to drive me into folly, but to forbid +me a return to wisdom?"</p> + +<p>In such a mood I had left him, to wander by myself about the lanes, +while he sat under the porch of his house with a great volume open on +his knees. The book treated of Vaticination in all its branches, and the +Vicar read diligently, being so absorbed in his study that he did not +heed the approach of feet, and looked up at last with a start. M. de +Fontelles stood there, sent on from the inn to the parsonage in the +progress of his search for me.</p> + +<p>"I am called Georges de Fontelles, sir," he began.</p> + +<p>"I am the Vicar of this parish, at your service, sir," returned the +Vicar courteously.</p> + +<p>"I serve the King of France, but have at this time the honour of being +employed by his Majesty the King of England."</p> + +<p>"I trust, sir," observed the Vicar mildly, "that the employment is an +honour."</p> + +<p>"Your loyalty should tell you so much."</p> + +<p>"We are commanded to honour the King, but I read nowhere that we must +honour all that the King does."</p> + +<p>"Such distinctions, sir, lead to disaffection and even to rebellion," +said Fontelles severely.</p> + +<p>"I am very glad of it," remarked the Vicar complacently.</p> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_416" id="Page_416">[Pg 416]</a></span></p> +<p>I had told my old friend nothing of what concerned Barbara; the secret +was not mine; therefore he had nothing against M. de Fontelles; yet it +seemed as though a good quarrel could be found on the score of general +principles. It is strange how many men give their heads for them and how +few can give a reason; but God provides every man with a head, and since +the stock of brains will not supply all, we draw lots for a share in it. +Yes, a pretty quarrel promised; but a moment later Fontelles, seeing no +prospect of sport in falling out with an old man of sacred profession, +and amused, in spite of his principles, by the Vicar's whimsical talk, +chose to laugh rather than to storm, and said with a chuckle:</p> + +<p>"Well, kings are like other men."</p> + +<p>"Very like," agreed the Vicar. "In what can I serve you, sir?"</p> + +<p>"I seek Mr Simon Dale," answered Fontelles.</p> + +<p>"Ah, Simon! Poor Simon! What would you with the lad, sir?"</p> + +<p>"I will tell that to him. Why do you call him poor?"</p> + +<p>"He has been deluded by a high-sounding prophecy, and it has come to +little." The Vicar shook his head in gentle regret.</p> + +<p>"He is no worse off, sir, than a man who marries," said Fontelles with a +smile.</p> + +<p>"Nor, it may be, than one who is born," said the Vicar, sighing.</p> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_417" id="Page_417">[Pg 417]</a></span></p> +<p>"Nor even than one who dies," hazarded the Frenchman.</p> + +<p>"Sir, sir, let us not be irreligious," implored the Vicar, smiling.</p> + +<p>The quarrel was most certainly over. Fontelles sat down by the Vicar's +side.</p> + +<p>"Yet, sir," said he, "God made the world."</p> + +<p>"It is full as good a world as we deserve," said the Vicar.</p> + +<p>"He might well have made us better, sir."</p> + +<p>"There are very few of us who truly wish it," the Vicar replied. "A man +hugs his sin."</p> + +<p>"The embrace, sir, is often delightful."</p> + +<p>"I must not understand you," said the Vicar.</p> + +<p>Fontelles' business was proceeding but slowly. A man on an errand should +not allow himself to talk about the universe. But he was recalled to his +task a moment later by the sight of my figure a quarter of a mile away +along the road. With an eager exclamation he pointed his finger at me, +lifted his hat to the Vicar, and rushed off in pursuit. The Vicar, who +had not taken his thumb from his page, opened his book again, observing +to himself, "A gentleman of some parts, I think."</p> + +<p>His quarrel with the Vicar had evaporated in the mists of speculation; +Fontelles had no mind to lose his complaint against me in any such +manner, but he was a man of ceremony and must needs begin again with me +much as he had with the Vicar. Thus<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_418" id="Page_418">[Pg 418]</a></span> obtaining my opportunity, I cut +across his preface, saying brusquely:</p> + +<p>"Well, I am glad that it is the King's employment and not M. de +Perrencourt's."</p> + +<p>He flushed red.</p> + +<p>"We know what we know, sir," said he. "If you have anything to say +against M. de Perrencourt, consider me as his friend. Did you cry out to +me as I rode last night?"</p> + +<p>"Why, yes, and I was a fool there. As for M. de Perrencourt——"</p> + +<p>"If you speak of him, speak with respect, sir. You know of whom you +speak."</p> + +<p>"Very well. Yet I have held a pistol to his head," said I, not, I +confess, without natural pride.</p> + +<p>Fontelles started, then laughed scornfully.</p> + +<p>"When he and Mistress Quinton and I were in a boat together," I pursued. +"The quarrel then was which of us should escort the lady, he or I, and +whether to Calais or to England. And although I should have been her +husband had we gone to Calais, yet I brought her here."</p> + +<p>"You're pleased to talk in riddles."</p> + +<p>"They're no harder to understand than your errand is to me, sir," I +retorted.</p> + +<p>He mastered his anger with a strong effort, and in a few words told me +his errand, adding that by Carford's advice he came to me.</p> + +<p>"For I am told, sir, that you have some power with the lady."</p> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_419" id="Page_419">[Pg 419]</a></span></p> +<p>I looked full and intently in his face. He met my gaze unflinchingly. +There was a green bank by the roadside; I seated myself; he would not +sit, but stood opposite to me.</p> + +<p>"I will tell you, sir, the nature of the errand on which you come," said +I, and started on the task with all the plainness of language that the +matter required and my temper enjoyed.</p> + +<p>He heard me without a word, with hardly a movement of his body; his eyes +never left mine all the while I was speaking. I think there was a +sympathy between us, so that soon I knew that he was honest, while he +did not doubt my truth. His face grew hard and stern as he listened; he +perceived now the part he had been set to play. He asked me but one +question when I had ended:</p> + +<p>"My Lord Carford knew all this?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, all of it," said I. "He was privy to all that passed."</p> + +<p>Engaged in talk, we had not noticed the Vicar's approach. He was at my +elbow before I saw him; the large book was under his arm. Fontelles +turned to him with a bow.</p> + +<p>"Sir," said he, "you were right just now."</p> + +<p>"Concerning the prophecy, sir?"</p> + +<p>"No, concerning the employment of kings," answered M. de Fontelles. Then +he said to me, "We will meet again, before I take my leave of your +village." With this he set off at a round pace down the road. I did not +doubt that he went to seek<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_420" id="Page_420">[Pg 420]</a></span> Mistress Barbara and ask her pardon. I let +him go; he would not hurt her now. I rose myself from the green bank, +for I also had work to do.</p> + +<p>"Will you walk with me, Simon?" asked the Vicar.</p> + +<p>"Your pardon, sir, but I am occupied."</p> + +<p>"Will it not wait?"</p> + +<p>"I do not desire that it should."</p> + +<p>For now that Fontelles was out of the way, Carford alone remained. +Barbara had not sent for me, but still I served her, and to some profit.</p> + +<p>It was now afternoon and I set out at once on my way to the Manor. I did +not know what had passed between Barbara and Carford, nor how his +passion had been stirred by her avowal of love for me, but I conjectured +that on learning how his plan of embroiling me with Fontelles had +failed, he would lose no time in making another effort.</p> + +<p>Fontelles must have walked briskly, for I, although I did not loiter on +the road, never came in sight of him, and the long avenue was empty when +I passed the gates. It is strange that it did not occur to my mind that +the clue to the Frenchman's haste was to be found in his last question; +no doubt he would make his excuses to Mistress Quinton in good time, but +it was not that intention which lent his feet wings. His errand was the +same as my own; he sought Carford, not Barbara, even as I. He found what +he sought, I what I did not seek, but what, once found, I could not pass +by.</p> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_421" id="Page_421">[Pg 421]</a></span></p> +<p>She was walking near the avenue, but on the grass behind the trees. I +caught a glimpse of her gown through the leaves and my quick steps were +stayed as though by one of the potent spells that the Vicar loved to +read about. For a moment or two I stood there motionless; then I turned +and walked slowly towards her. She saw me a few yards off, and it seemed +as though she would fly. But in the end she faced me proudly; her eyes +were very sad and I thought that she had been weeping; as I approached +she thrust something—it looked like a letter—into the bosom of her +gown, as if in terror lest I should see it. I made her a low bow.</p> + +<p>"I trust, madame," said I, "that my lady mends?"</p> + +<p>"I thank you, yes, although slowly."</p> + +<p>"And that you have taken no harm from your journey?"</p> + +<p>"I thank you, none."</p> + +<p>It was strange, but there seemed no other topic in earth or heaven; for +I looked first at earth and then at heaven, and in neither place found +any.</p> + +<p>"I am seeking my Lord Carford," I said at last.</p> + +<p>I knew my error as soon as I had spoken. She would bid me seek Carford +without delay and protest that the last thing in her mind was to detain +me. I cursed myself for an awkward fool. But to my amazement she did +nothing of what I looked for,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_422" id="Page_422">[Pg 422]</a></span> but cried out in great agitation and, as +it seemed, fear:</p> + +<p>"You mustn't see Lord Carford."</p> + +<p>"Why not?" I asked. "He won't hurt me." Or at least he should not, if my +sword could stop his.</p> + +<p>"It is not that. It is—it is not that," she murmured, and flushed red.</p> + +<p>"Well, then, I will seek him."</p> + +<p>"No, no, no," cried Barbara in a passion that fear—surely it was that +and nothing else—made imperious. I could not understand her, for I knew +nothing of the confession which she had made, but would not for the +world should reach my ears. Yet it was not very likely that Carford +would tell me, unless his rage carried him away.</p> + +<p>"You are not so kind as to shield me from Lord Carford's wrath?" I asked +rather scornfully.</p> + +<p>"No," she said, persistently refusing to meet my eyes.</p> + +<p>"What is he doing here?" I asked.</p> + +<p>"He desires to conduct me to my father."</p> + +<p>"My God, you won't go with him?"</p> + +<p>For the fraction of a moment her dark eyes met mine, then turned away in +confusion.</p> + +<p>"I mean," said I, "is it wise to go with him?"</p> + +<p>"Of course you meant that," murmured Barbara.</p> + +<p>"M. de Fontelles will trouble you no more," I remarked, in a tone as +calm as though I stated the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_423" id="Page_423">[Pg 423]</a></span> price of wheat; indeed much calmer than +such a vital matter was wont to command at our village inn.</p> + +<p>"What?" she cried. "He will not——?"</p> + +<p>"He didn't know the truth. I have told him. He is an honourable +gentleman."</p> + +<p>"You've done that also, Simon?" She came a step nearer me.</p> + +<p>"It was nothing to do," said I. Barbara fell back again.</p> + +<p>"Yet I am obliged to you," said she. I bowed with careful courtesy.</p> + +<p>Why tell these silly things. Every man has such in his life. Yet each +counts his own memory a rare treasure, and it will not be denied +utterance.</p> + +<p>"I had best seek my Lord Carford," said I, more for lack of another +thing to say than because there was need to say that.</p> + +<p>"I pray you——" cried Barbara, again in a marked agitation.</p> + +<p>It was a fair soft evening; a breeze stirred the tree-tops, and I could +scarce tell when the wind whispered and when Barbara spoke, so like were +the caressing sounds. She was very different from the lady of our +journey, yet like to her who had for a moment spoken to me from her +chamber-door at Canterbury.</p> + +<p>"You haven't sent for me," I said, in a low voice. "I suppose you have +no need of me?"</p> + +<p>She made me no answer.</p> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_424" id="Page_424">[Pg 424]</a></span></p> +<p>"Why did you fling my guinea in the sea?" I said, and paused.</p> + +<p>"Why did you use me so on the way?" I asked.</p> + +<p>"Why haven't you sent for me?" I whispered.</p> + +<p>She seemed to have no answer for any of these questions. There was +nothing in her eyes now save the desire of escape. Yet she did not +dismiss me, and without dismissal I would not go. I had forgotten +Carford and the angry Frenchman, my quarrel and her peril; the questions +I had put to her summed up all life now held.</p> + +<p>Suddenly she put her hand to her bosom, and drew out that same piece of +paper which I had seen her hide there. Before my eyes she read, or +seemed to read, something that was in it; then she shut her hand on it. +In a moment I was by her, very close. I looked full in her eyes, and +they fled behind covering lids; the little hand, tightly clenched, hung +by her side. What had I to lose? Was I not already banned for +forwardness? I would be forward still, and justify the sentence by an +after-crime. I took the hanging hand in both of mine. She started, and I +loosed it; but no rebuke came, and she did not fly. The far-off stir of +coming victory moved in my blood; not yet to win, but now to know that +win you will sends through a man an exultation, more sweet because it is +still timid. I watched her face—it was very pale—and again took her +hand. The lids of her eyes rose now an instant, and disclosed<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_425" id="Page_425">[Pg 425]</a></span> entreaty. +I was ruthless; our hearts are strange, and cruelty or the desire of +mastery mingled with love in my tightened grasp. One by one I bent her +fingers back; the crushed paper lay in a palm that was streaked to red +and white. With one hand still I held hers, with the other I spread out +the paper. "You mustn't read it," she murmured. "Oh, you mustn't read +it." I paid no heed, but held it up. A low exclamation of wonder broke +from me. The scrawl that I had seen at Canterbury now met me again, +plain and unmistakable in its laborious awkwardness. "In pay for your +dagger," it had said before. Were five words the bounds of Nell's +accomplishment? She had written no more now. Yet before she had seemed +to say much in that narrow limit; and much she said now.</p> + +<p>There was long silence between us; my eyes were intent on her veiled +eyes.</p> + +<p>"You needed this to tell you?" I said at last.</p> + +<p>"You loved her, Simon."</p> + +<p>I would not allow the plea. Shall not a thing that has become out of all +reason to a man's own self thereby blazon its absurdity to the whole +world?</p> + +<p>"So long ago!" I cried scornfully.</p> + +<p>"Nay, not so long ago," she murmured, with a note of resentment in her +voice.</p> + +<p>Even then we might have fallen out; we were in an ace of it, for I most +brutally put this question:</p> + +<p>"You waited here for me to pass?"</p> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_426" id="Page_426">[Pg 426]</a></span></p> +<p>I would have given my ears not to have said it; what availed that? A +thing said is a thing done, and stands for ever amid the irrevocable. +For an instant her eyes flashed in anger; then she flushed suddenly, her +lips trembled, her eyes grew dim, yet through the dimness mirth peeped +out.</p> + +<p>"I dared not hope you'd pass," she whispered.</p> + +<p>"I am the greatest villain in the world!" I cried. "Barbara, you had no +thought that I should pass!"</p> + +<p>Again came silence. Then I spoke, and softly:</p> + +<p>"And you—is it long since you——?"</p> + +<p>She held out her hands towards me, and in an instant was in my arms. +First she hid her face, but then drew herself back as far as the circle +of my arm allowed. Her dark eyes met mine full and direct in a +confession that shamed me but shamed her no more; her shame was +swallowed in the sweet pride of surrender.</p> + +<p>"Always," said she, "always; from the first through all; always, +always." It seemed that though she could not speak that word enough.</p> + +<p>In truth I could scarcely believe it; save when I looked in her eyes, I +could not believe it.</p> + +<p>"But I wouldn't tell you," she said. "I swore you should never know. +Simon, do you remember how you left me?"</p> + +<p>It seemed that I must play penitent now.</p> + +<p>"I was too young to know——" I began.</p> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_427" id="Page_427">[Pg 427]</a></span></p> +<p>"I was younger and not too young," she cried. "And all through those +days at Dover I didn't know. And when we were together I didn't know. +Ah, Simon, when I flung your guinea in the sea, you must have known!"</p> + +<p>"On my faith, no," I laughed. "I didn't see the love in that, +sweetheart."</p> + +<p>"I'm glad there was no woman there to tell you what it meant," said +Barbara. "And even at Canterbury I didn't know. Simon, what brought you +to my door that night?"</p> + +<p>I answered her plainly, more plainly than I could at any other time, +more plainly, it may be, than even then I should:</p> + +<p>"She bade me follow her, and I followed her so far."</p> + +<p>"You followed her?"</p> + +<p>"Ay. But I heard your voice through the door, and stopped."</p> + +<p>"You stopped for my voice; what did I say?"</p> + +<p>"You sung how a lover had forsaken his love. And I heard and stayed."</p> + +<p>"Ah, why didn't you tell me then?"</p> + +<p>"I was afraid, sweetheart."</p> + +<p>"Of what? Of what?"</p> + +<p>"Why, of you. You had been so cruel."</p> + +<p>Barbara's head, still strained far as could be from mine, now drew +nearer by an ace, and then she launched at me the charge of most +enormity, the indictment that justified all my punishment.</p> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_428" id="Page_428">[Pg 428]</a></span></p> +<p>"You had kissed her before my eyes, here, sir, where we are now, in my +own Manor Park," said Barbara.</p> + +<p>I took my arms from about her, and fell humbly on my knee.</p> + +<p>"May I kiss so much as your hand?" said I in utter abasement.</p> + +<p>She put it suddenly, eagerly, hurriedly to my lips.</p> + +<p>"Why did she write to me?" she whispered.</p> + +<p>"Nay, love, I don't know."</p> + +<p>"But I know. Simon, she loves you."</p> + +<p>"It would afford no reason if she did. And I think——"</p> + +<p>"It would and she does. Simon, of course she does."</p> + +<p>"I think rather that she was sorry for——"</p> + +<p>"Not for me!" cried Barbara with great vehemence. "I will not have her +sorry for me!"</p> + +<p>"For you!" I exclaimed in ridicule. (It does not matter what I had been +about to say before.) "For you! How should she? She wouldn't dare!"</p> + +<p>"No," said Barbara. One syllable can hold a world of meaning.</p> + +<p>"A thousand times, no!" cried I.</p> + +<p>The matter was thus decided. Yet now, in quiet blood and in the secrecy +of my own soul, shall I ask wherefore the letter came from Mistress +Gwyn, to whom the shortest letter was no light matter,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_429" id="Page_429">[Pg 429]</a></span> and to let even +a humble man go some small sacrifice? And why did it come to Barbara and +not to me? And why did it not say "Simon, she loves you," rather than +the words that I now read, Barbara permitting me: "Pretty fool, he loves +you." Let me not ask; not even now would Barbara bear to think that it +was written in pity for her.</p> + +<p>"Yes, she pitied you and so she wrote; and she loves you," said Barbara.</p> + +<p>I let it pass. Shall a man never learn wisdom?</p> + +<p>"Tell me now," said I, "why I may not see Carford?"</p> + +<p>Her lips curved in a smile; she held her head high, and her eyes were +triumphant.</p> + +<p>"You may see Lord Carford as soon as you will, Simon," said she.</p> + +<p>"But a few minutes ago——" I began, much puzzled.</p> + +<p>"A few minutes!" cried Barbara reproachfully.</p> + +<p>"A whole lifetime ago, sweetheart!"</p> + +<p>"And shall that make no changes?"</p> + +<p>"A whole lifetime ago you were ready to die sooner than let me see him."</p> + +<p>"Simon, you're very——He knew, I told him."</p> + +<p>"You told him?" I cried. "Before you told me?"</p> + +<p>"He asked me before," said Barbara.</p> + +<p>I did not grudge her that retort; every jot of her joy was joy to me, +and her triumph my delight.</p> + +<p>"How did I dare to tell him?" she asked herself<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_430" id="Page_430">[Pg 430]</a></span> softly. "Ah, but how +have I contrived not to tell all the world? How wasn't it plain in my +face?"</p> + +<p>"It was most profoundly hidden," I assured her. Indeed from me it had +been; but Barbara's wit had yet another answer.</p> + +<p>"You were looking in another face," said she. Then, as the movement of +my hands protested, remorse seized on her, and catching my hand she +cried impulsively, "I'll never speak of it again, Simon."</p> + +<p>Now I was not so much ashamed of the affair as to demand that utter +silence on it; in which point lies a difference between men and women. +To have wandered troubles our consciences little, when we have come to +the right path again; their pride stands so strong in constancy as +sometimes (I speak in trembling) even to beget an oblivion of its +falterings and make what could not have been as if it had not. But now +was not the moment for excuse, and I took my pardon with all gratitude +and with full allowance of my offence's enormity.</p> + +<p>Then we determined that Carford must immediately be sought, and set out +for the house with intent to find him. But our progress was very slow, +and the moon rose in the skies before we stepped out on to the avenue +and came in sight of the house and the terrace. There was so much to +tell, so much that had to slough off its old seeming and take on new and +radiant apparel—things that she had understood and not I, that I had +caught and she missed, wherein both of us had gone astray most +lamentably<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_431" id="Page_431">[Pg 431]</a></span> and now stood aghast at our own sightlessness. Therefore +never were our feet fairly in movement towards the house but a +sudden—"Do you remember?" gave them pause again: then came shame that I +had forgotten, or indignation that Barbara should be thought to have +forgotten, and in both of these cases the need for expiation, and so +forth. The moon was high in heaven when we stepped into the avenue and +came in sight of the terrace.</p> + +<p>On the instant, with a low cry of surprise and alarm, Barbara caught me +by the arm, while she pointed to the terrace. The sight might well turn +us even from our engrossing interchange of memories. There were four men +on the terrace, their figures standing out dense and black against the +old grey walls, which seemed white in the moonlight. Two stood impassive +and motionless, with hands at their sides; at their feet lay what seemed +bundles of clothes. The other two were in their shirts; they were +opposite one another, and their swords were in their hands. I could not +doubt the meaning; while love held me idle, anger had lent Fontelles +speed; while I sought to perfect my joy, he had been hot to avenge his +wounded honour. I did not know who were the two that watched unless they +were servants; Fontelles' fierce mood would not stand for the niceties +of etiquette. Now I could recognise the Frenchman's bearing and even see +Carford's face, although distance hid its expression. I was amazed and +at a loss what to do. How could I<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_432" id="Page_432">[Pg 432]</a></span> stop them and by what right? But then +Barbara gave a little sob and whispered:</p> + +<p>"My mother lies sick in the house."</p> + +<p>It was enough to loose my bound limbs. I sprang forward and set out at a +run. I had not far to go and lost no time; but I would not cry out lest +I might put one off his guard and yet not arrest the other's stroke. For +the steel flashed, and they fought, under the eyes of the quiet +servants. I was near to them now and already wondering how best to +interpose, when, in an instant, the Frenchman lunged, Carford cried out, +his sword dropped from his hand, and he fell heavily on the gravel of +the terrace. The servants rushed forward and knelt down beside him. M. +de Fontelles did not leave his place, but stood, with the point of his +naked sword on the ground, looking at the man who had put an affront on +him and whom he had now chastised. The sudden change that took me from +love's pastimes to a scene so stern deprived me of speech for a moment. +I ran to Fontelles and faced him, panting but saying nothing. He turned +his eyes on me: they were calm, but shone still with the heat of contest +and the sternness of resentment. He raised his sword and pointed with it +towards where Carford lay.</p> + +<p>"My lord there," said he, "knew a thing that hurt my honour, and did not +warn me of it. He knew that I was made a tool and did not tell me. He +knew that I was used for base purposes and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_433" id="Page_433">[Pg 433]</a></span> sought to use me for his own +also. He has his recompense."</p> + +<p>Then he stepped across to where the green bank sloped down to the +terrace and, falling on one knee, wiped his blade on the grass.</p> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_434" id="Page_434">[Pg 434]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXIV" id="CHAPTER_XXIV"></a>CHAPTER XXIV</h2> + +<h3>A COMEDY BEFORE THE KING</h3> + + +<p>On the next day but one M. de Fontelles and I took the road for London +together. Carford lay between life and death (for the point had pierced +his lung) at the inn to which we had carried him; he could do no more +harm and occasion us no uneasiness. On the other hand, M. de Fontelles +was anxious to seek out the French Ambassador, with whom he was on +friendly terms, and enlist his interest, first to excuse the abandonment +of his mission, and in the second place to explain the circumstances of +his duel with Carford. In this latter task he asked my aid since I +alone, saving the servants, had been a witness of the encounter, and +Fontelles, recognising (now that his rage was past) that he had been +wrong to force his opponent to a meeting under such conditions, prayed +my testimony to vindicate his reputation. I could not deny him, and +moreover, though it grieved me to be absent from Quinton Manor, I felt +that Barbara's interests and my own might be well served by a journey to +London. No news had come from<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_435" id="Page_435">[Pg 435]</a></span> my lord, and I was eager to see him and +bring him over to my side; the disposition of the King was also a matter +of moment and of uncertainty; would he still seek to gain for M. de +Perrencourt what that exacting gentleman required, or would he now +abandon the struggle in which his instruments had twice failed him? His +Majesty should now be returning from Dover, and I made up my mind to go +to Court and learn from him the worst and the best of what I might look +for. Nay, I will not say that the pure desire to see him face to face +had not weight with me; for I believed that he had a liking for me, and +that I should obtain from him better terms in my own person than if my +cause were left in the hands of those who surrounded him.</p> + +<p>When we were come to London (and I pray that it be observed and set down +to my credit that, thinking there was enough of love-making in this +history, I have spared any narrative of my farewell to Barbara, although +on my soul it was most moving) M. de Fontelles at once sought the +Ambassador's, taking my promise to come there as soon as his summons +called, while I betook myself to the lodging which I had shared with +Darrell before we went to Dover. I hoped to find him there and renew our +friendship; my grudge was for his masters, and I am not for making an +enemy of a man who does what his service demands of him. I was not +disappointed; Robert opened the door to me, and Darrell himself sprang +to his feet in amazement at<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_436" id="Page_436">[Pg 436]</a></span> the sound of my name. I laughed heartily +and flung myself into a chair, saying:</p> + +<p>"How goes the Treaty of Dover?"</p> + +<p>He ran to the door and tried it; it was close-shut.</p> + +<p>"The less you say of that, the safer you'll be," said he.</p> + +<p>"Oho," thought I, "then I'm not going to market empty-handed! If I want +to buy, it seems that I have something to sell." And smiling very +good-humouredly I said:</p> + +<p>"What, is there a secret in it?"</p> + +<p>Darrell came up to me and held out his hand.</p> + +<p>"On my life," said he, "I didn't know you were interested in the lady, +Simon, or I wouldn't have taken a hand in the affair."</p> + +<p>"On my life," said I, "I'm obliged to you. What of Mlle. de +Quérouaille?"</p> + +<p>"She has returned with Madame."</p> + +<p>"But will return without Madame?"</p> + +<p>"Who knows?" he asked with a smile that he could not smother.</p> + +<p>"God and the King," said I. "What of M. de Perrencourt?"</p> + +<p>"Your tongue's hung so loose, Simon, that one day it'll hang you tight."</p> + +<p>"Enough, enough. What then of Phineas Tate?"</p> + +<p>"He is on board ship on his way to the plantations. He'll find plenty to +preach to there."</p> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_437" id="Page_437">[Pg 437]</a></span></p> +<p>"What? Why, there's never a Papist sent now! He'll mope to death. What +of the Duke of Monmouth?"</p> + +<p>"He has found out Carford."</p> + +<p>"He has? Then he has found out the Secretary also?"</p> + +<p>"There is indeed a distance between his Grace and my lord," Darrell +admitted.</p> + +<p>"When rogues fall out! A fine saying that, Darrell. And what of the +King?"</p> + +<p>"My lord tells me that the King swears he won't sleep o' nights till he +has laid a certain troublesome fellow by the heels."</p> + +<p>"And where is that same troublesome fellow?"</p> + +<p>"So near me that, did I serve the King as I ought, Robert would now be +on his way with news for my Lord Arlington."</p> + +<p>"Then His Majesty's sentiments are mighty unkind towards me? Be at +peace, Darrell. I am come to London to seek him."</p> + +<p>"To seek him? Are you mad? You'll follow Phineas Tate!"</p> + +<p>"But I have a boon to ask of the King. I desire him to use his good +offices with my Lord Quinton. For I am hardly a fit match for my lord's +daughter, and yet I would make her my wife."</p> + +<p>"I wonder," observed Darrell, "that you, Simon, who, being a heretic, +must go to hell when you die, are not more careful of your life."</p> + +<p>Then we both fell to laughing.</p> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_438" id="Page_438">[Pg 438]</a></span></p> +<p>"Another thing brings me to London," I pursued. "I must see Mistress +Gwyn."</p> + +<p>He raised his hands over his head.</p> + +<p>"Fill up the measure," said he. "The King knows you came to London with +her and is more enraged at that than all the rest."</p> + +<p>"Does he know what happened on the journey?"</p> + +<p>"Why, no, Simon," smiled Darrell. "The matter is just that. The King +does not know what happened on the journey."</p> + +<p>"He must learn it," I declared. "To-morrow I'll seek Mistress Gwyn. You +shall send Robert to take her pleasure as to the hour when I shall wait +on her."</p> + +<p>"She's in a fury with the King, as he with her."</p> + +<p>"On what account?"</p> + +<p>"Already, friend Simon, you're too wise."</p> + +<p>"By Heaven, I know! It's because Mlle. de Quérouaille is so good a +Catholic?"</p> + +<p>Darrell had no denial ready. He shrugged his shoulders and sat silent.</p> + +<p>Now although I had told Barbara that it was my intention to ask an +audience from the King, I had not disclosed my purpose of seeing +Mistress Nell. Yet it was firm in my mind—for courtesy's sake. Of a +truth she had done me great service. Was I to take it as though it were +my right, with never a word of thanks? Curiosity also drew me, and that +attraction which she never lost for me, nor, as I believe, for<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_439" id="Page_439">[Pg 439]</a></span> any man +whose path she crossed. I was sure of myself, and did not fear to go. +Yet memory was not dead in me, and I went in a species of excitement, +the ghost of old feelings dead but not forgotten. When a man has loved, +and sees her whom he loves no more, he will not be indifferent; angry he +may be, or scornful, amused he may be, and he should be tender; but it +will not be as though he had not loved. Yet I had put a terrible affront +on her, and it might be that she would not receive me.</p> + +<p>As I live, I believe that but for one thing she would not. That turned +her, by its appeal to her humour. When I came to the house in Chelsea, I +was conducted into a small ante-chamber, and there waited long. There +were voices speaking in the next room, but I could not hear their +speech. Yet I knew Nell's voice; it had for me always—ay, still—echoes +of the past. But now there was something which barred its way to my +heart.</p> + +<p>The door in front of me opened, and she was in the room with me. There +she was, curtseying low in mock obeisance and smiling whimsically.</p> + +<p>"A bold man!" she cried. "What brings you here? Art not afraid?"</p> + +<p>"Afraid that I am not welcome, yet not afraid to come."</p> + +<p>"A taunt wrapped in civility! I do not love it."</p> + +<p>"Mistress Nell, I came to thank you for the greatest kindness——"</p> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_440" id="Page_440">[Pg 440]</a></span></p> +<p>"If it be kindness to help you to a fool!" said Mistress Nell. "What, +besides your thanks to me, brings you to town?"</p> + +<p>I must forgive her the style in which she spoke of Barbara. I answered +with a smile:</p> + +<p>"I must see the King. I don't know his purposes about me. Besides, I +desire that he should help me to my—fool."</p> + +<p>"If you're wise you'll keep out of his sight." Then she began to laugh. +"Nay, but I don't know," said she. Then with a swift movement she was by +me, catching at my coat and turning up to me a face full of merriment. +"Shall we play a comedy?" she asked.</p> + +<p>"As you will. What shall be my part?"</p> + +<p>"I'll give you a pretty part, Simon. Your face is very smooth; nay, do +not fear, I remember so well that I needn't try again. You shall be this +French lady of whom they speak."</p> + +<p>"I the French lady! God forbid!"</p> + +<p>"Nay, but you shall, Simon. And I'll be the King. Nay, I say, don't be +afraid. I swear you tried to run away then!"</p> + +<p>"Is it not prescribed as the best cure for temptation?"</p> + +<p>"Alas, you're not tempted!" she said with a pout. "But there's another +part in the comedy."</p> + +<p>"Besides the King and Mademoiselle?"</p> + +<p>"Why, yes—and a great part."</p> + +<p>"Myself by chance?"</p> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_441" id="Page_441">[Pg 441]</a></span></p> +<p>"You! No! What should you do in the play? It is I—I myself."</p> + +<p>"True, true. I forgot you, Mistress Nell."</p> + +<p>"You did forget me, Simon. But I must spare you, for you will have heard +that same charge of fickleness from Mistress Quinton, and it is hard to +hear it from two at once. But who shall play my part?"</p> + +<p>"Indeed I can think of none equal to it."</p> + +<p>"The King shall play it!" she cried with a triumphant laugh, and stood +opposite to me, the embodiment of merry triumph. "Do you catch the plot +of my piece, Simon?"</p> + +<p>"I am very dull," I confessed.</p> + +<p>"It's your condition, not your nature, Simon," Nell was so good as to +say. "A man in love is always dull, save to one woman, and she's +stark-mad. Come, can you feign an inclination for me, or have you forgot +the trick?"</p> + +<p>At the moment she spoke the handle of the door turned. Again it turned +and was rattled.</p> + +<p>"I locked it," whispered Nell, her eyes full of mischief.</p> + +<p>Again, and most impatiently, the handle was twisted to and fro.</p> + +<p>"Pat, pat, how pat he comes!" she whispered.</p> + +<p>A last loud rattle followed, then a voice cried in anger, "Open it, I +bid you open it."</p> + +<p>"God help us!" I exclaimed in sad perplexity. "It's the King?"</p> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_442" id="Page_442">[Pg 442]</a></span></p> +<p>"Yes, it's the King, and, Simon, the piece begins. Look as terrified as +you can. It's the King."</p> + +<p>"Open, I say, open!" cried the King, with a thundering knock.</p> + +<p>I understood now that he had been in the other room, and that she had +left his society to come to me; but I understood only dimly why she had +locked the door, and why she now was so slow in opening it. Yet I set my +wits to work, and for further aid watched her closely. She was worth the +watching. Without aid of paints or powders, of scene or theatre, she +transformed her air, her manner, ay, her face also. Alarm and terror +showed in her eyes as she stole in fearful fashion across the room, +unlocked the door, and drew it open, herself standing by it, stiff and +rigid, in what seemed shame or consternation. The agitation she feigned +found some reality in me. I was not ready for the thing, although I had +been warned by the voice outside. When the King stood in the doorway, I +wished myself a thousand miles away.</p> + +<p>The King was silent for several moments; he seemed to me to repress a +passion which, let loose, might hurry him to violence. When he spoke, he +was smiling ironically, and his voice was calm.</p> + +<p>"How comes this gentleman here?" he asked.</p> + +<p>The terror that Nell had so artfully assumed she appeared now, with +equal art, to defy or conquer. She answered him with angry composure.</p> + +<p>"Why shouldn't Mr. Dale be here, Sir?" she<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_443" id="Page_443">[Pg 443]</a></span> asked. "Am I to see no +friends? Am I to live all alone?"</p> + +<p>"Mr Dale is no friend of mine——"</p> + +<p>"Sir——" I began, but his raised hand stayed me.</p> + +<p>"And you have no need of friends when I am here."</p> + +<p>"Your Majesty," said she, "came to say farewell; Mr Dale was but half an +hour too soon."</p> + +<p>This answer showed me the game. If he had come to bid her farewell—why, +I understood now the parts in the comedy. If he left her for the +Frenchwoman, why should she not turn to Simon Dale? The King bit his +lip. He also understood her answer.</p> + +<p>"You lose no time, mistress," he said, with an uneasy laugh.</p> + +<p>"I've lost too much already," she flashed back.</p> + +<p>"With me?" he asked, and was answered by a sweeping curtsey and a +scornful smile.</p> + +<p>"You're a bold man, Mr Dale," said he. "I knew it before, and am now +most convinced of it."</p> + +<p>"I didn't expect to meet your Majesty here," said I sincerely.</p> + +<p>"I don't mean that. You're bold to come here at all."</p> + +<p>"Mistress Gwyn is very kind to me," said I. I would play my part and +would not fail her, and I directed a timid yet amorous glance at Nell. +The<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_444" id="Page_444">[Pg 444]</a></span> glance reached Nell, but on its way it struck the King. He was +patient of rivals, they said, but he frowned now and muttered an oath. +Nell broke into sudden laughter. It sounded forced and unreal. It was +meant so to sound.</p> + +<p>"We're old friends," said she, "Simon and I. We were friends before I +was what I am. We're still friends, now that I am what I am. Mr Dale +escorted me from Dover to London."</p> + +<p>"He is an attentive squire," sneered the King.</p> + +<p>"He hardly left my side," said Nell.</p> + +<p>"You were hampered with a companion?"</p> + +<p>"Of a truth I hardly noticed it," cried Nelly with magnificent +falsehood. I seconded her efforts with a shrug and a cunning smile.</p> + +<p>"I begin to understand," said the King. "And when my farewell has been +said, what then?"</p> + +<p>"I thought that it had been said half an hour ago," she exclaimed. +"Wasn't it?"</p> + +<p>"You were anxious to hear it, and so seemed to hear it," said he +uneasily.</p> + +<p>She turned to me with a grave face and tender eyes.</p> + +<p>"Didn't I tell you here, just now, how the King parted from me?"</p> + +<p>I was to take the stage now, it seemed.</p> + +<p>"Ay, you told me," said I, playing the agitated lover as best I could. +"You told me that—that—but I cannot speak before His Majesty." And I +ended in a most rare confusion.</p> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_445" id="Page_445">[Pg 445]</a></span></p> +<p>"Speak, sir," he commanded harshly and curtly.</p> + +<p>"You told me," said I in low tones, "that the King left you. And I said +I was no King, but that you need not be left alone." My eyes fell to the +ground in pretended fear.</p> + +<p>The swiftest glance from Nell applauded me. I would have been sorry for +him and ashamed for myself, had I not remembered M. de Perrencourt and +our voyage to Calais. In that thought I steeled myself to hardness and +bade conscience be still.</p> + +<p>A long silence followed. Then the King drew near to Nell. With a rare +stroke of skill she seemed to shrink away from him and edged towards me, +as though she would take refuge in my arms from his anger or his +coldness.</p> + +<p>"Come, I've never hurt you, Nelly!" said he.</p> + +<p>Alas, that art should outstrip nature! Never have I seen portrayed so +finely the resentment of a love that, however greatly wounded, is still +love, that even in turning away longs to turn back, that calls even in +forbidding, and in refusing breathes the longing to assent. Her feet +still came towards me, but her eyes were on the King.</p> + +<p>"You sent me away," she whispered as she moved towards me and looked +where the King was.</p> + +<p>"I was in a temper," said he. Then he turned to me, saying "Pray leave +us, sir."</p> + +<p>I take it that I must have obeyed, but Nell sprang<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_446" id="Page_446">[Pg 446]</a></span> suddenly forward, +caught my hand, and holding it faced the King.</p> + +<p>"He shan't go; or, if you send him away, I'll go with him."</p> + +<p>The King frowned heavily, but did not speak. She went on, choking down a +sob—ay, a true sob; the part she played moved her, and beneath her +acting there was a reality. She fought for her power over him and now +was the test of it.</p> + +<p>"Will you take my friendships from me as well as my——? Oh, I won't +endure it!"</p> + +<p>She had given him his hint in the midst of what seemed her greatest +wrath. His frown persisted, but a smile bent his lips again.</p> + +<p>"Mr Dale," said he, "it is hard to reason with a lady before another +gentleman. I was wrong to bid you go. But will you suffer me to retire +to that room again?"</p> + +<p>I bowed low.</p> + +<p>"And," he went on, "will you excuse our hostess' presence for awhile?"</p> + +<p>I bowed again.</p> + +<p>"No, I won't go with you," cried Nell.</p> + +<p>"Nay, but, Nelly, you will," said he, smiling now. "Come, I'm old and +mighty ugly, and Mr Dale is a strapping fellow. You must be kind to the +unfortunate, Nelly."</p> + +<p>She was holding my hand still. The King took hers. Very slowly and +reluctantly she let him draw her away. I did what seemed best to do; I +sighed<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_447" id="Page_447">[Pg 447]</a></span> very heavily and plaintively, and bowed in sad submission.</p> + +<p>"Wait till we return," said the King, and his tone was kind.</p> + +<p>They passed out together, and I, laughing yet ashamed to laugh, flung +myself in a chair. She would not keep him for herself alone; nay, as all +the world knows, she made but a drawn battle of it with the Frenchwoman; +but the disaster and utter defeat which had threatened her she had +averted, jealousy had achieved what love could not, he would not let her +go now, when another's arms seemed open for her. To this success I had +helped her. On my life I was glad to have helped her. But I did not yet +see how I had helped my own cause.</p> + +<p>I was long in the room alone, and though the King had bidden me await +his return, he did not come again. Nell came alone, laughing, radiant +and triumphant; she caught me by both hands, and swiftly, suddenly, +before I knew, kissed me on the cheek. Nay, come, let me be honest; I +knew a short moment before, but on my honour I could not avoid it +courteously.</p> + +<p>"We've won," she cried. "I have what I desire, and you, Simon, are to +seek him at Whitehall. He has forgiven you all your sins and—yes, he'll +give you what favour you ask. He has pledged his word to me."</p> + +<p>"Does he know what I shall ask?"</p> + +<p>"No, no, not yet. Oh, that I could see his face!<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_448" id="Page_448">[Pg 448]</a></span> Don't spare him, +Simon. Tell him—why, tell him all the truth—every word of it, the +stark bare truth."</p> + +<p>"How shall I say it?"</p> + +<p>"Why, that you love, and have ever loved, and will ever love Mistress +Barbara Quinton, and that you love not, and will never love, and have +never loved, no, nor cared the price of a straw for Eleanor Gwyn."</p> + +<p>"Is that the whole truth?" said I.</p> + +<p>She was holding my hands still; she pressed them now and sighed lightly.</p> + +<p>"Why, yes, it's the whole truth. Let it be the whole truth, Simon. What +matters that a man once lived when he's dead, or once loved when he +loves no more?"</p> + +<p>"Yet I won't tell him more than is true," said I.</p> + +<p>"You'll be ashamed to say anything else?" she whispered, looking up into +my face.</p> + +<p>"Now, by Heaven, I'm not ashamed," said I, and I kissed her hand.</p> + +<p>"You're not?"</p> + +<p>"No, not a whit. I think I should be ashamed, had my heart never strayed +to you."</p> + +<p>"Ah, but you say 'strayed'!"</p> + +<p>I made her no answer, but asked forgiveness with a smile. She drew her +hand sharply away, crying,</p> + +<p>"Go your ways, Simon Dale, go your ways; go to your Barbara, and your +Hatchstead, and your dulness, and your righteousness."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_449" id="Page_449">[Pg 449]</a></span></p> + +<p>"We part in kindness?" I urged.</p> + +<p>For a moment I thought she would answer peevishly, but the mood passed, +and she smiled sincerely on me as she replied:</p> + +<p>"Ay, in all loving-kindness, Simon; and when you hear the sour gird at +me, say—why, say, Simon, that even a severe gentleman, such as you are, +once found some good in Nelly. Will you say that for me?"</p> + +<p>"With all my heart."</p> + +<p>"Nay, I care not what you say," she burst out, laughing again. "Begone, +begone! I swore to the King that I would speak but a dozen words to you. +Begone!"</p> + +<p>I bowed and turned towards the door. She flew to me suddenly, as if to +speak, but hesitated. I waited for her; at last she spoke, with eyes +averted and an unusual embarrassment in her air.</p> + +<p>"If—if you're not ashamed to speak my name to Mistress Barbara, tell +her I wish her well, and pray her to think as kindly of me as she can."</p> + +<p>"She has much cause to think kindly," said I.</p> + +<p>"And will therefore think unkindly! Simon, I bid you begone."</p> + +<p>She held out her hand to me, and I kissed it again.</p> + +<p>"This time we part for good and all," said she. "I've loved you, and +I've hated you, and I have nearly loved you. But it is nothing to be +loved by me, who love all the world."</p> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_450" id="Page_450">[Pg 450]</a></span></p> +<p>"Nay, it's something," said I. "Fare you well."</p> + +<p>I passed out, but turned to find her eyes on me. She was laughing and +nodding her head, swaying to and fro on her feet as her manner was. She +blew me a kiss from her lips. So I went, and my life knew her no more.</p> + +<p>But when the strict rail on sinners, I guard my tongue for the sake of +Nelly and the last kiss she gave me on my cheek.</p> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_451" id="Page_451">[Pg 451]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXV" id="CHAPTER_XXV"></a>CHAPTER XXV</h2> + +<h3>THE MIND OF M. DE FONTELLES</h3> + + +<p>As I made my way through the Court nothing seemed changed; all was as I +had seen it when I came to lay down the commission that Mistress Gwyn +had got me. They were as careless, as merry, as shameless as before; the +talk then had been of Madame's coming, now it was of her going; they +talked of Dover and what had passed there, but the treaty was dismissed +with a shrug, and the one theme of interest, and the one subject of +wagers, was whether or how soon Mlle. de Quérouaille would return to the +shores and the monarch she had left. In me distaste now killed +curiosity; I pushed along as fast as the throng allowed me, anxious to +perform my task and be quit of them all as soon as I could. My part +there was behind me; the prophecy was fulfilled, and my ambitions +quenched. Yet I had a pleasure in the remaining scene of the comedy +which I was to play with the King; I was amused also to see how those +whom I knew to be in the confidence of the Duke of York and of Arlington +eyed me with mingled fear and wariness, and hid distrust under a most +deferential<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_452" id="Page_452">[Pg 452]</a></span> civility. They knew, it seemed, that I had guessed their +secrets. But I was not afraid of them, for I was no more their rival in +the field of intrigue or in their assault upon the King's favour. I +longed to say to them, "Be at peace. In an hour from now you will see my +face no more."</p> + +<p>The King sat in his chair, alone save for one gentleman who stood beside +him. I knew the Earl of Rochester well by repute, and had been before +now in the same company, although, as it chanced, I had never yet spoken +with him. I looked for the King's brother and for Monmouth, but neither +was to be seen. Having procured a gentleman to advise the King of my +presence, I was rewarded by being beckoned to approach immediately. But +when he had brought me there, he gave me no more than a smile, and, +motioning me to stand by him, continued his conversation with my Lord +Rochester and his caresses of the little dog on his lap.</p> + +<p>"In defining it as the device by which the weak intimidate the strong," +observed Rochester, "the philosopher declared the purpose of virtue +rather than its effect. For the strong are not intimidated, while the +weak, falling slaves to their own puppet, grow more helpless still."</p> + +<p>"It's a just retribution on them," said the King, "for having invented a +thing so tiresome."</p> + +<p>"In truth, Sir, all these things that make virtue are given a man for +his profit, and that he may not go empty-handed into the mart of the +world. He has<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_453" id="Page_453">[Pg 453]</a></span> stuff for barter; he can give honour for pleasure, +morality for money, religion for power."</p> + +<p>The King raised his brows and smiled again, but made no remark. +Rochester bowed courteously to me, as he added:</p> + +<p>"Is it not as I say, sir?" and awaited my reply.</p> + +<p>"It's better still, my lord," I answered. "For he can make these +bargains you speak of, and, by not keeping them, have his basket still +full for another deal."</p> + +<p>Again the King smiled as he patted his dog.</p> + +<p>"Very just, sir, very just," nodded Rochester. "Thus by breaking a +villainous bargain he is twice a villain, and preserves his reputation +to aid him in the more effectual cheating of his neighbour."</p> + +<p>"And the damning of his own soul," said the King softly.</p> + +<p>"Your Majesty is Defender of the Faith. I will not meddle with your high +office," said Rochester with a laugh. "For my own part I suffer from a +hurtful sincerity; being known for a rogue by all the town, I am become +the most harmless fellow in your Majesty's dominions. As Mr Dale here +says—I have the honour of being acquainted with your name, sir—my +basket is empty and no man will deal with me."</p> + +<p>"There are women left you," said the King.</p> + +<p>"It is more expense than profit," sighed the Earl. "Although indeed the +kind creatures will most readily give for nothing what is worth as +much."</p> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_454" id="Page_454">[Pg 454]</a></span></p> +<p>"So that the sum of the matter," said the King, "is that he who refuses +no bargain however iniquitous and performs none however binding——"</p> + +<p>"Is a king among men, Sir," interposed Rochester with a low bow, "even +as your Majesty is here in Whitehall."</p> + +<p>"And by the same title?"</p> + +<p>"Ay, the same Right Divine. What think you of my reasoning, Mr Dale?"</p> + +<p>"I do not know, my lord, whence you came by it, unless the Devil has +published a tract on the matter."</p> + +<p>"Nay, he has but circulated it among his friends," laughed Rochester. +"For he is in no need of money from the booksellers since he has a grant +from God of the customs of the world for his support."</p> + +<p>"The King must have the Customs," smiled Charles. "I have them here in +England. But the smugglers cheat me."</p> + +<p>"And the penitents him, Sir. Faith, these Holy Churches run queer +cargoes past his officers—or so they say;" and with another bow to the +King, and one of equal courtesy to me, he turned away and mingled in the +crowd that walked to and fro.</p> + +<p>The King sat some while silent, lazily pulling the dog's coat with his +fingers. Then he looked up at me.</p> + +<p>"Wild talk, Mr Dale," said he, "yet perhaps not all without a meaning."</p> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_455" id="Page_455">[Pg 455]</a></span></p> +<p>"There's meaning enough, Sir. It's not that I miss."</p> + +<p>"No, but perhaps you do. I have made many bargains; you don't praise all +of them?"</p> + +<p>"It's not for me to judge the King's actions."</p> + +<p>"I wish every man were as charitable, or as dutiful. But—shall I empty +my basket? You know of some of my bargains. The basket is not emptied +yet."</p> + +<p>I looked full in his face; he did not avoid my regard, but sat there +smiling in a bitter amusement.</p> + +<p>"You are the man of reservations," said he. "I remember them. Be at +peace and hold your place. For listen to me, Mr Dale."</p> + +<p>"I am listening to your Majesty's words."</p> + +<p>"It will be time enough for you to open your mouth when I empty my +basket."</p> + +<p>His words, and even more the tone in which he spoke and the significant +glance of his eyes, declared his meaning. The bargain that I knew of I +need not betray nor denounce till he fulfilled it. When would he fulfil +it? He would not empty his basket, but still have something to give when +he dealt with the King of France. I wondered that he should speak to me +so openly; he knew that I wondered, yet, though his smile was bitter, he +smiled still.</p> + +<p>I bowed to him and answered:</p> + +<p>"I am no talker, Sir, of matters too great for me."</p> + +<p>"That's well. I know you for a gentleman of great<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_456" id="Page_456">[Pg 456]</a></span> discretion, and I +desire to serve you. You have something to ask of me, Mr Dale?"</p> + +<p>"The smallest thing in the world for your Majesty, and the greatest for +me."</p> + +<p>"A pattern then that I wish all requests might follow. Let me hear it."</p> + +<p>"It is no more than your Majesty's favour for my efforts to win the +woman whom I love."</p> + +<p>He started a little, and for the first time in all the conversation +ceased to fondle the little dog.</p> + +<p>"The woman whom you love? Well, sir, and does she love you?"</p> + +<p>"She has told me so, Sir."</p> + +<p>"Then at least she wished you to believe it. Do I know this lady?"</p> + +<p>"Very well, sir," I answered in a very significant tone.</p> + +<p>He was visibly perturbed. A man come to his years will see a ready rival +in every youth, however little other attraction there may be. But +perhaps I had treated him too freely already; and now he used me well. I +would keep up the jest no longer.</p> + +<p>"Once, Sir," I said, "for a while I loved where the King loved, even as +I drank of his cup."</p> + +<p>"I know, Mr Dale. But you say 'once.'"</p> + +<p>"It is gone by, Sir."</p> + +<p>"But, yesterday?" he exclaimed abruptly.</p> + +<p>"She is a great comedian, Sir; but I fear I seconded her efforts badly."</p> + +<p>He did not answer for a moment, but began again<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_457" id="Page_457">[Pg 457]</a></span> to play with the dog. +Then raising his eyes to mine he said:</p> + +<p>"You were well enough; she played divinely, Mr Dale."</p> + +<p>"She played for life, Sir."</p> + +<p>"Ay, poor Nelly loves me," said he softly. "I had been cruel to her. But +I won't weary you with my affairs. What would you?"</p> + +<p>"Mistress Gwyn, Sir, has been very kind to me."</p> + +<p>"So I believe," remarked the King.</p> + +<p>"But my heart, Sir, is now and has been for long irrevocably set on +another."</p> + +<p>"On my faith, Mr Dale, and speaking as one man to another, I'm glad to +hear it. Was it so at Canterbury?"</p> + +<p>"More than ever before, Sir. For she was there and——"</p> + +<p>"I know she was there."</p> + +<p>"Nay, Sir, I mean the other, her whom I love, her whom I now woo. I mean +Mistress Barbara Quinton, Sir."</p> + +<p>The King looked down and frowned; he patted his dog, he looked up again, +frowning still. Then a queer smile bent his lips and he said in a voice +which was most grave, for all his smile,</p> + +<p>"You remember M. de Perrencourt?"</p> + +<p>"I remember M. de Perrencourt very well, Sir."</p> + +<p>"It was by his choice, not mine, Mr Dale, that you set out for Calais."</p> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_458" id="Page_458">[Pg 458]</a></span></p> +<p>"So I understood at the time, Sir."</p> + +<p>"And he is believed, both by himself and others, to choose his +men—perhaps you will allow me to say his instruments, Mr Dale—better +than any Prince in Christendom. So you would wed Mistress Quinton? Well, +sir, she is above your station."</p> + +<p>"I was to have been made her husband, Sir."</p> + +<p>"Nay, but she's above your station," he repeated, smiling at my retort, +but conceiving that it needed no answer.</p> + +<p>"She's not above your Majesty's persuasion, or, rather, her father is +not. She needs none."</p> + +<p>"You do not err in modesty, Mr Dale."</p> + +<p>"How should I, Sir, I who have drunk of the King's cup?"</p> + +<p>"So that we should be friends."</p> + +<p>"And known what the King hid?"</p> + +<p>"So that we must stand or fall together?"</p> + +<p>"And loved where the King loved?"</p> + +<p>He made no answer to that, but sat silent for a great while. I was +conscious that many eyes were on us, in wonder that I was so long with +him, in speculation on what our business might be and whence came the +favour that gained me such distinction. I paid little heed, for I was +seeking to follow the thoughts of the King and hoping that I had won him +to my side. I asked only leave to lead a quiet life with her whom I +loved, setting bounds at once to my ambition and to the plans which he +had made concerning her. Nay, I believe that I<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_459" id="Page_459">[Pg 459]</a></span> might have claimed some +hold over him, but I would not. A gentleman may not levy hush-money +however fair the coins seem in his eyes. Yet I feared that he might +suspect me, and I said:</p> + +<p>"To-day, I leave the town, Sir, whether I have what I ask of you or not; +and whether I have what I ask of you or not I am silent. If your Majesty +will not grant it me, yet, in all things that I may be, I am your loyal +subject."</p> + +<p>To all this—perhaps it rang too solemn, as the words of a young man are +apt to at the moments when his heart is moved—he answered nothing, but +looking up with a whimsical smile said,</p> + +<p>"Tell me now; how do you love this Mistress Quinton?"</p> + +<p>At this I fell suddenly into a fit of shame and bashful embarrassment. +The assurance that I had gained at Court forsook me, and I was +tongue-tied as any calf-lover.</p> + +<p>"I—I don't know," I stammered.</p> + +<p>"Nay, but I grow old. Pray tell me, Mr Dale," he urged, beginning to +laugh at my perturbation.</p> + +<p>For my life I could not; it seems to me that the more a man feels a +thing the harder it is for him to utter; sacred things are secret, and +the hymn must not be heard save by the deity.</p> + +<p>The King suddenly bent forward and beckoned. Rochester was passing by, +with him now was the Duke of Monmouth. They approached; I bowed low to +the Duke, who returned my salute most<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_460" id="Page_460">[Pg 460]</a></span> cavalierly. He had small reason +to be pleased with me, and his brow was puckered. The King seemed to +find fresh amusement in his son's bearing, but he made no remark on it, +and, addressing himself to Rochester, said:</p> + +<p>"Here, my lord, is a young gentleman much enamoured of a lovely and most +chaste maiden. I ask him what this love of his is—for my memory +fails—and behold he cannot tell me! In case he doesn't know what it is +that he feels, I pray you tell him."</p> + +<p>Rochester looked at me with an ironical smile.</p> + +<p>"Am I to tell what love is?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"Ay, with your utmost eloquence," answered the King, laughing still and +pinching his dog's ears.</p> + +<p>Rochester twisted his face in a grimace, and looked appealingly at the +King.</p> + +<p>"There's no escape; to-day I am a tyrant," said the King.</p> + +<p>"Hear then, youths," said Rochester, and his face was smoothed into a +pensive and gentle expression. "Love is madness and the only sanity, +delirium and the only truth; blindness and the only vision, folly and +the only wisdom. It is——" He broke off and cried impatiently, "I have +forgotten what it is."</p> + +<p>"Why, my lord, you never knew what it is," said the King. "Alone of us +here, Mr Dale knows, and since he cannot tell us the knowledge is lost +to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_461" id="Page_461">[Pg 461]</a></span> the world. James, have you any news of my friend M. de Fontelles?"</p> + +<p>"Such news as your Majesty has," answered Monmouth. "And I hear that my +Lord Carford will not die."</p> + +<p>"Let us be as thankful as is fitting for that," said the King. "M. de +Fontelles sent me a very uncivil message; he is leaving England, and +goes, he tells me, to seek a King whom a gentleman may serve."</p> + +<p>"Is the gentleman about to kill himself, Sir?" asked Rochester with an +affected air of grave concern.</p> + +<p>"He's an insolent rascal," cried Monmouth angrily. "Will he go back to +France?"</p> + +<p>"Why, yes, in the end, when he has tried the rest of my brethren in +Europe. A man's King is like his nose; the nose may not be handsome, +James, but it's small profit to cut it off. That was done once, you +remember——"</p> + +<p>"And here is your Majesty on the throne," interposed Rochester with a +most loyal bow.</p> + +<p>"James," said the King, "our friend Mr Dale desires to wed Mistress +Barbara Quinton."</p> + +<p>Monmouth started violently and turned red.</p> + +<p>"His admiration for that lady," continued the King, "has been shared by +such high and honourable persons that I cannot doubt it to be well +founded. Shall he not then be her husband?"</p> + +<p>Monmouth's eyes were fixed on me; I met his<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_462" id="Page_462">[Pg 462]</a></span> glance with an easy smile. +Again I felt that I, who had worsted M. de Perrencourt, need not fear +the Duke of Monmouth.</p> + +<p>"If there be any man," observed Rochester, "who would love a lady who is +not a wife, and yet is fit to be his wife, let him take her, in Heaven's +name! For he might voyage as far in search of another like her as M. de +Fontelles must in his search for a Perfect King."</p> + +<p>"Shall he not have her, James?" asked the King of his son.</p> + +<p>Monmouth understood that the game was lost.</p> + +<p>"Ay, Sir, let him have her," he answered, mustering a smile. "And I hope +soon to see your Court graced by her presence."</p> + +<p>Well, at that, I, most inadvertently and by an error in demeanour which +I now deplore sincerely, burst into a short sharp laugh. The King turned +to me with raised eye-brows.</p> + +<p>"Pray let us hear the jest, Mr Dale," said he.</p> + +<p>"Why, Sir," I answered, "there is no jest. I don't know why I laughed, +and I pray your pardon humbly."</p> + +<p>"Yet there was something in your mind," the King insisted.</p> + +<p>"Then, Sir, if I must say it, it was no more than this; if I would not +be married in Calais, neither will I be married in Whitehall."</p> + +<p>There was a moment's silence. It was broken by Rochester.</p> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_463" id="Page_463">[Pg 463]</a></span></p> +<p>"I am dull," said he. "I don't understand that observation of Mr +Dale's."</p> + +<p>"That may well be, my lord," said Charles, and he turned to Monmouth, +smiling maliciously as he asked, "Are you as dull as my lord here, +James, or do you understand what Mr Dale would say?"</p> + +<p>Monmouth's mood hung in the balance between anger and amusement. I had +crossed and thwarted his fancy, but it was no more than a fancy. And I +had crossed and thwarted M. de Perrencourt's also; that was balm to his +wounds. I do not know that he could have done me harm, and it was as +much from a pure liking for him as from any fear of his disfavour that I +rejoiced when I saw his kindly thoughts triumph and a smile come on his +lips.</p> + +<p>"Plague take the fellow," said he, "I understand him. On my life he's +wise!"</p> + +<p>I bowed low to him, saying, "I thank your Grace for your understanding."</p> + +<p>Rochester sighed heavily.</p> + +<p>"This is wearisome," said he. "Shall we walk?"</p> + +<p>"You and James shall walk," said the King. "I have yet a word for Mr +Dale." As they went he turned to me and said, "But will you leave us? I +could find work for you here."</p> + +<p>I did not know what to answer him. He saw my hesitation.</p> + +<p>"The basket will not be emptied," said he in a low and cautious voice. +"It will be emptied neither for M. de Perrencourt nor for the King<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_464" id="Page_464">[Pg 464]</a></span> of +France. You look very hard at me, Mr Dale, but you needn't search my +face so closely. I will tell you what you desire to know. I have had my +price, but I do not empty my basket." Having said this, he sat leaning +his head on his hands with his eyes cast up at me from under his swarthy +bushy brows.</p> + +<p>There was a long silence then between us. For myself I do not deny that +youthful ambition again cried to me to take his offer, while pride told +me that even at Whitehall I could guard my honour and all that was mine. +I could serve him; since he told me his secrets, he must and would serve +me. And he had in the end dealt fairly and kindly with me.</p> + +<p>The King struck his right hand on the arm of his chair suddenly and +forcibly.</p> + +<p>"I sit here," said he; "it is my work to sit here. My brother has a +conscience, how long would he sit here? James is a fool, how long would +he sit here? They laugh at me or snarl at me, but here I sit, and here I +will sit till my life's end, by God's grace or the Devil's help. My +gospel is to sit here."</p> + +<p>I had never before seen him so moved, and never had so plain a glimpse +of his heart, nor of the resolve which lay beneath his lightness and +frivolity. Whence came that one unswerving resolution I know not; yet I +do not think that it stood on nothing better than his indolence and a +hatred<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_465" id="Page_465">[Pg 465]</a></span> of going again on his travels. There was more than that in it; +perhaps he seemed to himself to hold a fort and considered all +stratagems and devices well justified against the enemy. I made him no +answer but continued to look at him. His passion passed as quickly as it +had come, and he was smiling again with his ironical smile as he said to +me:</p> + +<p>"But my gospel need not be yours. Our paths have crossed, they need not +run side by side. Come, man, I have spoken to you plainly, speak plainly +to me." He paused, and then, leaning forward, said,</p> + +<p>"Perhaps you are of M. de Fontelles' mind? Will you join him in his +search? Abandon it. You had best go to your home and wait. Heaven may +one day send you what you desire. Answer me, sir. Are you of the +Frenchman's mind?"</p> + +<p>His voice now had the ring of command in it and I could not but answer. +And when I came to answer there was but one thing to say. He had told me +the terms of my service. What was it to me that he sat there, if honour +and the Kingdom's greatness and all that makes a crown worth the wearing +must go, in order to his sitting there? There rose in me at once an +inclination towards him and a loathing for the gospel that he preached; +the last was stronger and, with a bow, I said:</p> + +<p>"Yes, Sir, I am of M. de Fontelles' mind."</p> + +<p>He heard me, lying back in his chair. He said<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_466" id="Page_466">[Pg 466]</a></span> nothing, but sighed +lightly, puckered his brow an instant, and smiled. Then he held out his +hand to me, and I bent and kissed it.</p> + +<p>"Good-bye, Mr Dale," said he. "I don't know how long you'll have to +wait. I'm hale and—so's my brother."</p> + +<p>He moved his hand in dismissal, and, having withdrawn some paces, I +turned and walked away. All observed or seemed to observe me; I heard +whispers that asked who I was, why the King had talked so long to me, +and to what service or high office I was destined. Acquaintances saluted +me and stared in wonder at my careless acknowledgment and the quick +decisive tread that carried me to the door. Now, having made my choice, +I was on fire to be gone; yet once I turned my head and saw the King +sitting still in his chair, his head resting on his hands, and a slight +smile on his lips. He saw me look, and nodded his head. I bowed, turned +again, and was gone.</p> + +<p>Since then I have not seen him, for the paths that crossed diverged +again. But, as all men know, he carried out his gospel. There he sat +till his life's end, whether by God's grace or the Devil's help I know +not. But there he sat, and never did he empty his basket lest, having +given all, he should have nothing to carry to market. It is not for me +to judge him now; but then, when I had the choice set before me, there +in his own palace, I passed my verdict. I do not repent of it.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_467" id="Page_467">[Pg 467]</a></span> For good +or evil, in wisdom or in folly, in mere honesty or the extravagance of +sentiment, I had made my choice. I was of the mind of M. de Fontelles, +and I went forth to wait till there should be a King whom a gentleman +could serve. Yet to this day I am sorry that he made me tell him of my +choice.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_468" id="Page_468">[Pg 468]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXVI" id="CHAPTER_XXVI"></a>CHAPTER XXVI</h2> + +<h3>I COME HOME</h3> + + +<p>I have written the foregoing for my children's sake that they may know +that once their father played some part in great affairs, and, rubbing +shoulder to shoulder with folk of high degree, bore himself (as I +venture to hope) without disgrace, and even with that credit which a +ready brain and hand bring to their possessor. Here, then, I might well +come to an end, and deny myself the pleasure of a last few words indited +for my own comfort and to please a greedy recollection. The children, if +they read, will laugh. Have you not seen the mirthful wonder that +spreads on a girl's face when she comes by chance on some relic of her +father's wooing, a faded wreath that he has given her mother, or a +nosegay tied with a ribbon and a poem attached thereto? She will look in +her father's face, and thence to where her mother sits at her +needle-work, just where she has sat at her needle-work these twenty +years, with her old kind smile and comfortable eyes. The girl loves her, +loves her well, but—how came father to write those words?<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_469" id="Page_469">[Pg 469]</a></span> For mother, +though the dearest creature in the world, is not slim, nor dazzling, nor +a Queen, nor is she Venus herself, decked in colours of the rainbow, nor +a Goddess come from heaven to men, nor the desire of all the world, nor +aught else that father calls her in the poem. Indeed, what father wrote +is something akin to what the Squire slipped into her own hand last +night; but it is a strange strain in which to write to mother, the +dearest creature in the world, but no, not Venus in her glory nor the +Queen of the Nymphs. But though the maiden laughs, her father is not +ashamed. He still sees her to whom he wrote, and when she smiles across +the room at him, and smiles again to see her daughter's wonder, all the +years fade from the picture's face, and the vision stands as once it +was, though my young mistress' merry eyes have not the power to see it. +Let her laugh. God forbid that I should grudge it her! Soon enough shall +she sit sewing and another laugh.</p> + +<p>Carford was gone, well-nigh healed of his wound, healed also of his +love, I trust, at least headed off from it. M. de Fontelles was gone +also, on that quest of his which made my Lord Rochester so merry; indeed +I fear that in this case the scoffer had the best of it, for he whom I +have called M. de Perrencourt was certainly served again by his +indignant subject, and that most brilliantly. Well, had I been a +Frenchman, I could have forgiven King Louis much; and I suppose that, +although an<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_470" id="Page_470">[Pg 470]</a></span> Englishman, I do not hate him greatly, since his ring is +often on my wife's finger and I see it there without pain.</p> + +<p>It was the day before my wedding was to take place; for my lord, on +being informed of all that had passed, had sworn roundly that since +there was one honest man who sought his daughter, he would not refuse +her, lest while he waited for better things worse should come. And he +proceeded to pay me many a compliment, which I would repeat, despite of +modesty, if it chanced that I remembered them. But in truth my head was +so full of his daughter that there was no space for his praises, and his +well-turned eulogy (for my lord had a pretty flow of words) was as sadly +wasted as though he had spoken it to the statue of Apollo on his +terrace.</p> + +<p>I had been taking dinner with the Vicar, and, since it was not yet time +to pay my evening visit to the Manor, I sat with him a while after our +meal, telling him for his entertainment how I had talked with the King +at Whitehall, what the King had said, and what I, and how my Lord +Rochester had talked finely of the Devil, and tried, but failed, to talk +of love. He drank in all with eager ears, weighing the wit in a balance, +and striving to see, through my recollection, the life and the scene and +the men that were so strange to his eyes and so familiar to his dreams.</p> + +<p>"You don't appear very indignant, sir," I ventured to observe with a +smile.</p> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_471" id="Page_471">[Pg 471]</a></span></p> +<p>We were in the porch, and, for answer to what I said, he pointed to the +path in front of us. Following the direction of his finger I perceived a +fly of a species with which I, who am a poor student of nature, was not +familiar. It was villainously ugly, although here and there on it were +patches of bright colour.</p> + +<p>"Yet," said the Vicar, "you are not indignant with it, Simon."</p> + +<p>"No, I am not indignant," I admitted.</p> + +<p>"But if it were to crawl over you——"</p> + +<p>"I should crush the brute," I cried.</p> + +<p>"Yes. They have crawled over you and you are indignant. They have not +crawled over me, and I am curious."</p> + +<p>"But, sir, will you allow a man no disinterested moral emotion?"</p> + +<p>"As much as he will, and he shall be cool at the end of it," smiled the +Vicar. "Now if they took my benefice from me again!" Stooping down, he +picked up the creature in his hand and fell to examining it very +minutely.</p> + +<p>"I wonder you can touch it," said I in disgust.</p> + +<p>"You did not quit the Court without some regret, Simon," he reminded me.</p> + +<p>I could make nothing of him in this mood and was about to leave him when +I perceived my lord and Barbara approaching the house. Springing up, I +ran to meet them; they received me with a grave air, and in the ready +apprehension of evil<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_472" id="Page_472">[Pg 472]</a></span> born of a happiness that seems too great I cried +out to know if there were bad tidings.</p> + +<p>"There's nothing that touches us nearly," said my lord. "But very +pitiful news is come from France."</p> + +<p>The Vicar had followed me and now stood by me; I looked up and saw that +the ugly creature was still in his hand.</p> + +<p>"It concerns Madame, Simon," said Barbara. "She is dead and all the town +declares that she had poison given to her in a cup of chicory-water. Is +it not pitiful?"</p> + +<p>Indeed the tidings came as a shock to me, for I remembered the winning +grace and wit of the unhappy lady.</p> + +<p>"But who has done it?" I cried.</p> + +<p>"I don't know," said my lord. "It is set down to her husband; rightly or +wrongly, who knows?"</p> + +<p>A silence ensued for a few moments. The Vicar stooped and set his +captive free to crawl away on the path.</p> + +<p>"God has crushed one of them, Simon," said he. "Are you content?"</p> + +<p>"I try not to believe it of her," said I.</p> + +<p>In a grave mood we began to walk, and presently, as it chanced, Barbara +and I distanced the slow steps of our elders and found ourselves at the +Manor gates alone.</p> + +<p>"I am very sorry for Madame," said she, sighing heavily. Yet presently, +because by the mercy<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_473" id="Page_473">[Pg 473]</a></span> of Providence our own joy outweighs others' grief +and thus we can pass through the world with unbroken hearts, she looked +up at me with a smile, and passing her arm, through mine, drew herself +close to me.</p> + +<p>"Ay, be merry, to-night at least be merry, my sweet," said I. "For we +have come through a forest of troubles and are here safe out on the +other side."</p> + +<p>"Safe and together," said she.</p> + +<p>"Without the second, where would be the first?"</p> + +<p>"Yet," said Barbara, "I fear you'll make a bad husband; for here at the +very beginning—nay, I mean before the beginning—you have deceived me."</p> + +<p>"I protest——!" I cried.</p> + +<p>"For it was from my father only that I heard of a visit you paid in +London."</p> + +<p>I bent my head and looked at her.</p> + +<p>"I would not trouble you with it," said I. "It was no more than a debt +of civility."</p> + +<p>"Simon, I don't grudge it to her. For I am, here in the country with +you, and she is there in London without you."</p> + +<p>"And in truth," said I, "I believe that you are both best pleased."</p> + +<p>"For her," said Barbara, "I cannot speak."</p> + +<p>For a long while then we walked in silence, while the afternoon grew +full and waned again. They mock at lovers' talk; let them, say I with +all my<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_474" id="Page_474">[Pg 474]</a></span> heart, so that they leave our silence sacred. But at last +Barbara turned to me and said with a little laugh:</p> + +<p>"Art glad to have come home, Simon?"</p> + +<p>Verily I was glad. In body I had wandered some way, in mind and heart +farther, through many dark ways, turning and twisting here and there, +leading I knew not whither, seeming to leave no track by which I might +regain my starting point. Yet, although I felt it not, the thread was in +my hand, the golden thread spun here in Hatchstead when my days were +young. At length the hold of it had tightened and I, perceiving it, had +turned and followed. Thus it had brought me home, no better in purse or +station than I went, and poorer by the loss of certain dreams that +haunted me, yet, as I hope, sound in heart and soul. I looked now in the +dark eyes that were, set on me as though there were their refuge, joy, +and life; she clung to me as though even still I might leave her. But +the last fear fled, the last doubt faded away, and a smile came in +radiant serenity on the lips I loved as, bending down, I whispered:</p> + +<p>"Ay, I am glad to have come home."</p> + +<p>But there was one thing more that I must say. Her head fell on my +shoulder as she murmured:</p> + +<p>"And you have utterly forgotten her?"</p> + +<p>Her eyes were safely hidden. I smiled as I answered, "Utterly."</p> + +<p>See how I stood! Wilt thou forgive me, Nelly?</p> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_475" id="Page_475">[Pg 475]</a></span></p> +<p>For a man may be very happy as he is and still not forget the things +which have been. "What are you thinking of, Simon?" my wife asks +sometimes when I lean back in my chair and smile. "Of nothing, sweet," +say I. And, in truth, I am not thinking; it is only that a low laugh +echoes distantly in my ear. Faithful and loyal am I—but, should such as +Nell leave nought behind her?</p> + +<p> </p> +<p> </p> +<hr class="full" /> +<p>***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK SIMON DALE***</p> +<p>******* This file should be named 20328-h.txt or 20328-h.zip *******</p> +<p>This and all associated files of various formats will be found in:<br /> +<a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/2/0/3/2/20328">http://www.gutenberg.org/2/0/3/2/20328</a></p> +<p>Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed.</p> + +<p>Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. Special rules, +set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to +copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to +protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark. Project +Gutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be used if you +charge for the eBooks, unless you receive specific permission. If you +do not charge anything for copies of this eBook, complying with the +rules is very easy. You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose +such as creation of derivative works, reports, performances and +research. They may be modified and printed and given away--you may do +practically ANYTHING with public domain eBooks. Redistribution is +subject to the trademark license, especially commercial +redistribution.</p> + + + +<pre> +*** START: FULL LICENSE *** + +THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE +PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK + +To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free +distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work +(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase "Project +Gutenberg"), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full Project +Gutenberg-tm License (available with this file or online at +<a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/license">http://www.gutenberg.org/license)</a>. + + +Section 1. General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic works + +1.A. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to +and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property +(trademark/copyright) agreement. If you do not agree to abide by all +the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or destroy +all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your possession. +If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound by the +terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person or +entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.E.8. + +1.B. "Project Gutenberg" is a registered trademark. It may only be +used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who +agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a few +things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works +even without complying with the full terms of this agreement. See +paragraph 1.C below. There are a lot of things you can do with Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this agreement +and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works. See paragraph 1.E below. + +1.C. The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation ("the Foundation" +or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection of Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works. Nearly all the individual works in the +collection are in the public domain in the United States. If an +individual work is in the public domain in the United States and you are +located in the United States, we do not claim a right to prevent you from +copying, distributing, performing, displaying or creating derivative +works based on the work as long as all references to Project Gutenberg +are removed. Of course, we hope that you will support the Project +Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting free access to electronic works by +freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm works in compliance with the terms of +this agreement for keeping the Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with +the work. You can easily comply with the terms of this agreement by +keeping this work in the same format with its attached full Project +Gutenberg-tm License when you share it without charge with others. + +1.D. The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern +what you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most countries are in +a constant state of change. If you are outside the United States, check +the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this agreement +before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, distributing or +creating derivative works based on this work or any other Project +Gutenberg-tm work. The Foundation makes no representations concerning +the copyright status of any work in any country outside the United +States. + +1.E. Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg: + +1.E.1. The following sentence, with active links to, or other immediate +access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear prominently +whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work on which the +phrase "Project Gutenberg" appears, or with which the phrase "Project +Gutenberg" is associated) is accessed, displayed, performed, viewed, +copied or distributed: + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + +1.E.2. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is derived +from the public domain (does not contain a notice indicating that it is +posted with permission of the copyright holder), the work can be copied +and distributed to anyone in the United States without paying any fees +or charges. If you are redistributing or providing access to a work +with the phrase "Project Gutenberg" associated with or appearing on the +work, you must comply either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1 +through 1.E.7 or obtain permission for the use of the work and the +Project Gutenberg-tm trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or +1.E.9. + +1.E.3. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted +with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution +must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any additional +terms imposed by the copyright holder. Additional terms will be linked +to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works posted with the +permission of the copyright holder found at the beginning of this work. + +1.E.4. Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm +License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this +work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm. + +1.E.5. Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this +electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without +prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with +active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project +Gutenberg-tm License. + +1.E.6. You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary, +compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including any +word processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide access to or +distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format other than +"Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other format used in the official version +posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm web site (www.gutenberg.org), +you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense to the user, provide a +copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means of obtaining a copy upon +request, of the work in its original "Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other +form. Any alternate format must include the full Project Gutenberg-tm +License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1. + +1.E.7. Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying, +performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works +unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. + +1.E.8. You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing +access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works provided +that + +- You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from + the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method + you already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is + owed to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he + has agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the + Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation. Royalty payments + must be paid within 60 days following each date on which you + prepare (or are legally required to prepare) your periodic tax + returns. Royalty payments should be clearly marked as such and + sent to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the + address specified in Section 4, "Information about donations to + the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation." + +- You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies + you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he + does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm + License. You must require such a user to return or + destroy all copies of the works possessed in a physical medium + and discontinue all use of and all access to other copies of + Project Gutenberg-tm works. + +- You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of any + money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the + electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days + of receipt of the work. + +- You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free + distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works. + +1.E.9. If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic work or group of works on different terms than are set +forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing from +both the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and Michael +Hart, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark. Contact the +Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below. + +1.F. + +1.F.1. Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable +effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread +public domain works in creating the Project Gutenberg-tm +collection. Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may contain +"Defects," such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate or +corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other intellectual +property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or other medium, a +computer virus, or computer codes that damage or cannot be read by +your equipment. + +1.F.2. LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the "Right +of Replacement or Refund" described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project +Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all +liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal +fees. YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT +LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE +PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH F3. YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE +TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE +LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR +INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH +DAMAGE. + +1.F.3. LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a +defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can +receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a +written explanation to the person you received the work from. If you +received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium with +your written explanation. The person or entity that provided you with +the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in lieu of a +refund. If you received the work electronically, the person or entity +providing it to you may choose to give you a second opportunity to +receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund. If the second copy +is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing without further +opportunities to fix the problem. + +1.F.4. Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth +in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you 'AS-IS,' WITH NO OTHER +WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO +WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTIBILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE. + +1.F.5. Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied +warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of damages. +If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement violates the +law of the state applicable to this agreement, the agreement shall be +interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or limitation permitted by +the applicable state law. The invalidity or unenforceability of any +provision of this agreement shall not void the remaining provisions. + +1.F.6. INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the +trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone +providing copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in accordance +with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the production, +promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works, +harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, including legal fees, +that arise directly or indirectly from any of the following which you do +or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this or any Project Gutenberg-tm +work, (b) alteration, modification, or additions or deletions to any +Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any Defect you cause. + + +Section 2. Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm + +Project Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution of +electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of computers +including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers. It exists +because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations from +people in all walks of life. + +Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the +assistance they need, is critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm's +goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will +remain freely available for generations to come. In 2001, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure +and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future generations. +To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation +and how your efforts and donations can help, see Sections 3 and 4 +and the Foundation web page at http://www.gutenberg.org/fundraising/pglaf. + + +Section 3. Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive +Foundation + +The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non profit +501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the +state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal +Revenue Service. The Foundation's EIN or federal tax identification +number is 64-6221541. Contributions to the Project Gutenberg +Literary Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent +permitted by U.S. federal laws and your state's laws. + +The Foundation's principal office is located at 4557 Melan Dr. S. +Fairbanks, AK, 99712., but its volunteers and employees are scattered +throughout numerous locations. Its business office is located at +809 North 1500 West, Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887, email +business@pglaf.org. Email contact links and up to date contact +information can be found at the Foundation's web site and official +page at http://www.gutenberg.org/about/contact + +For additional contact information: + Dr. Gregory B. Newby + Chief Executive and Director + gbnewby@pglaf.org + +Section 4. Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg +Literary Archive Foundation + +Project Gutenberg-tm depends upon and cannot survive without wide +spread public support and donations to carry out its mission of +increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be +freely distributed in machine readable form accessible by the widest +array of equipment including outdated equipment. Many small donations +($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt +status with the IRS. + +The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating +charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United +States. Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a +considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up +with these requirements. We do not solicit donations in locations +where we have not received written confirmation of compliance. To +SEND DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any +particular state visit http://www.gutenberg.org/fundraising/pglaf + +While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we +have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition +against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who +approach us with offers to donate. + +International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make +any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from +outside the United States. U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff. + +Please check the Project Gutenberg Web pages for current donation +methods and addresses. Donations are accepted in a number of other +ways including checks, online payments and credit card donations. +To donate, please visit: http://www.gutenberg.org/fundraising/donate + + +Section 5. General Information About Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works. + +Professor Michael S. Hart is the originator of the Project Gutenberg-tm +concept of a library of electronic works that could be freely shared +with anyone. For thirty years, he produced and distributed Project +Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of volunteer support. + +Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printed +editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the U.S. +unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we do not necessarily +keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition. + +Each eBook is in a subdirectory of the same number as the eBook's +eBook number, often in several formats including plain vanilla ASCII, +compressed (zipped), HTML and others. + +Corrected EDITIONS of our eBooks replace the old file and take over +the old filename and etext number. The replaced older file is renamed. +VERSIONS based on separate sources are treated as new eBooks receiving +new filenames and etext numbers. + +Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility: + +<a href="http://www.gutenberg.org">http://www.gutenberg.org</a> + +This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, +including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary +Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to +subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. + +EBooks posted prior to November 2003, with eBook numbers BELOW #10000, +are filed in directories based on their release date. If you want to +download any of these eBooks directly, rather than using the regular +search system you may utilize the following addresses and just +download by the etext year. + +<a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/etext06/">http://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/etext06/</a> + + (Or /etext 05, 04, 03, 02, 01, 00, 99, + 98, 97, 96, 95, 94, 93, 92, 92, 91 or 90) + +EBooks posted since November 2003, with etext numbers OVER #10000, are +filed in a different way. The year of a release date is no longer part +of the directory path. The path is based on the etext number (which is +identical to the filename). The path to the file is made up of single +digits corresponding to all but the last digit in the filename. For +example an eBook of filename 10234 would be found at: + +http://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/1/0/2/3/10234 + +or filename 24689 would be found at: +http://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/2/4/6/8/24689 + +An alternative method of locating eBooks: +<a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/GUTINDEX.ALL">http://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/GUTINDEX.ALL</a> + +*** END: FULL LICENSE *** +</pre> +</body> +</html> diff --git a/20328-h/images/frontis.jpg b/20328-h/images/frontis.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..bd32ea1 --- /dev/null +++ b/20328-h/images/frontis.jpg diff --git a/20328-h/images/frontis_thumb.jpg b/20328-h/images/frontis_thumb.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..3efed51 --- /dev/null +++ b/20328-h/images/frontis_thumb.jpg diff --git a/20328-h/images/logo.jpg b/20328-h/images/logo.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..48161f0 --- /dev/null +++ b/20328-h/images/logo.jpg diff --git a/20328-h/images/titleframe.jpg b/20328-h/images/titleframe.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..9f0dde9 --- /dev/null +++ b/20328-h/images/titleframe.jpg diff --git a/20328.txt b/20328.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..358380d --- /dev/null +++ b/20328.txt @@ -0,0 +1,13603 @@ +The Project Gutenberg eBook, Simon Dale, by Anthony Hope + + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + + + + +Title: Simon Dale + + +Author: Anthony Hope + + + +Release Date: January 10, 2007 [eBook #20328] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-646-US (US-ASCII) + + +***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK SIMON DALE*** + + +E-text prepared by Elaine Walker, Karen Dalrymple, and the Project +Gutenberg Online Distributed Proofreading Team (https://www.pgdp.net/c/) + + + +Note: Project Gutenberg also has an HTML version of this + file which includes the original illustration. + See 20328-h.htm or 20328-h.zip: + (https://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/2/0/3/2/20328/20328-h/20328-h.htm) + or + (https://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/2/0/3/2/20328/20328-h.zip) + + + + + +SIMON DALE + +by + +ANTHONY HOPE + + + + + + + +T. Nelson & Sons +London and Edinburgh +Paris: 189, rue Saint-Jacques +Leipzig: 35-37 Koenigstrasse + + +[Illustration: "It is only that a low laugh echoes distantly in my +ear."] + + +[Illustration] + + + + +CONTENTS + + I. The Child of Prophecy 3 + + II. The Way of Youth 18 + + III. The Music of the World 33 + + IV. Cydaria revealed 49 + + V. I am forbidden to forget 65 + + VI. An Invitation to Court 84 + + VII. What came of Honesty 103 + + VIII. Madness, Magic, and Moonshine 122 + + IX. Of Gems and Pebbles 140 + + X. Je Viens, Tu Viens, Il Vient 160 + + XI. The Gentleman from Calais 180 + + XII. The Deference of His Grace the Duke 201 + + XIII. The Meed of Curiosity 222 + + XIV. The King's Cup 244 + + XV. M. de Perrencourt whispers 263 + + XVI. M. de Perrencourt wonders 283 + + XVII. What befell my Last Guinea 303 + + XVIII. Some Mighty Silly Business 324 + + XIX. A Night on the Road 345 + + XX. The Vicar's Proposition 362 + + XXI. The Strange Conjuncture of Two Gentlemen 378 + + XXII. The Device of Lord Carford 396 + + XXIII. A Pleasant Penitence 414 + + XXIV. A Comedy before the King 434 + + XXV. The Mind of M. de Fontelles 451 + + XXVI. I come Home 468 + + + + +SIMON DALE + + + + +CHAPTER I + +THE CHILD OF PROPHECY + + +One who was in his day a person of great place and consideration, and +has left a name which future generations shall surely repeat so long as +the world may last, found no better rule for a man's life than that he +should incline his mind to move in Charity, rest in Providence, and turn +upon the poles of Truth. This condition, says he, is Heaven upon Earth; +and although what touches truth may better befit the philosopher who +uttered it than the vulgar and unlearned, for whom perhaps it is a +counsel too high and therefore dangerous, what comes before should +surely be graven by each of us on the walls of our hearts. For any man +who lived in the days that I have seen must have found much need of +trust in Providence, and by no whit the less of charity for men. In such +trust and charity I have striven to write: in the like I pray you to +read. + +I, Simon Dale, was born on the seventh day of the seventh month in the +year of Our Lord sixteen-hundred-and-forty-seven. The date was good in +that the Divine Number was thrice found in it, but evil in that it fell +on a time of sore trouble both for the nation and for our own house; +when men had begun to go about saying that if the King would not keep +his promises it was likely that he would keep his head as little; when +they who had fought for freedom were suspecting that victory had brought +new tyrants; when the Vicar was put out of his cure; and my father, +having trusted the King first, the Parliament afterwards, and at last +neither the one nor the other, had lost the greater part of his +substance, and fallen from wealth to straitened means: such is the +common reward of an honest patriotism wedded to an open mind. However, +the date, good or bad, was none of my doing, nor indeed, folks +whispered, much of my parents' either, seeing that destiny overruled the +affair, and Betty Nasroth, the wise woman, announced its imminence more +than a year beforehand. For she predicted the birth, on the very day +whereon I came into the world, within a mile of the parish church, of a +male child who--and the utterance certainly had a lofty sound about +it--should love where the King loved, know what the King hid, and drink +of the King's cup. Now, inasmuch as none lived within the limits named +by Betty Nasroth, save on the one side sundry humble labourers, whose +progeny could expect no such fate, and on the other my Lord and Lady +Quinton, who were wedded but a month before my birthday, the prophecy +was fully as pointed as it had any need to be, and caused to my parents +no small questionings. It was the third clause or term of the prediction +that gave most concern alike to my mother and to my father; to my +mother, because, although of discreet mind and a sound Churchwoman, she +was from her earliest years a Rechabite, and had never heard of a King +who drank water; and to my father by reason of his decayed estate, which +made it impossible for him to contrive how properly to fit me for my +predestined company. "A man should not drink the King's wine without +giving the King as good," my father reflected ruefully. Meanwhile I, +troubling not at all about the matter, was content to prove Betty right +in point of the date, and, leaving the rest to the future, achieved this +triumph for her most punctually. Whatsoever may await a man on his way +through the world, he can hardly begin life better than by keeping his +faith with a lady. + +She was a strange old woman, this Betty Nasroth, and would likely enough +have fared badly in the time of the King's father. Now there was bigger +game than witches afoot, and nothing worse befell her than the scowls of +her neighbours and the frightened mockery of children. She made free +reply with curses and dark mutterings, but me she loved as being the +child of her vision, and all the more because, encountering her as I +rode in my mother's arms, I did not cry, but held out my hands, crowing +and struggling to get to her; whereat suddenly, and to my mother's great +terror, she exclaimed: "Thou see'st, Satan!" and fell to weeping, a +thing which, as every woman in the parish knew, a person absolutely +possessed by the Evil One can by no means accomplish (unless, indeed, a +bare three drops squeezed from the left eye may usurp the name of +tears). But my mother shrank away from her and would not allow her to +touch me; nor was it until I had grown older and ran about the village +alone that the old woman, having tracked me to a lonely spot, took me in +her arms, mumbled over my head some words I did not understand, and +kissed me. That a mole grows on the spot she kissed is but a fable (for +how do the women know where her kiss fell save by where the mole +grows?--and that is to reason poorly), or at the most the purest chance. +Nay, if it were more, I am content; for the mole does me no harm, and +the kiss, as I hope, did Betty some good; off she went straight to the +Vicar (who was living then in the cottage of my Lord Quinton's gardener +and exercising his sacred functions in a secrecy to which the whole +parish was privy) and prayed him to let her partake of the Lord's +Supper: a request that caused great scandal to the neighbours and sore +embarrassment to the Vicar himself, who, being a learned man and deeply +read in demonology, grieved from his heart that the witch did not play +her part better. + +"It is," said he to my father, "a monstrous lapse." + +"Nay, it is a sign of grace," urged my mother. + +"It is," said my father (and I do not know whether he spoke perversely +or in earnest), "a matter of no moment." + +Now, being steadfastly determined that my boyhood shall be less tedious +in the telling than it was in the living--for I always longed to be a +man, and hated my green and petticoat-governed days--I will pass +forthwith to the hour when I reached the age of eighteen years. My dear +father was then in Heaven, and old Betty had found, as was believed, +another billet. But my mother lived, and the Vicar, like the King, had +come to his own again: and I was five feet eleven in my stockings, and +there was urgent need that I should set about pushing my way and putting +money in my purse; for our lands had not returned with the King, and +there was no more incoming than would serve to keep my mother and +sisters in the style of gentlewomen. + +"And on that matter," observed the Vicar, stroking his nose with his +forefinger, as his habit was in moments of perplexity, "Betty Nasroth's +prophecy is of small service. For the doings on which she touches are +likely to be occasions of expense rather than sources of gain." + +"They would be money wasted," said my mother gently, "one and all of +them." + +The Vicar looked a little doubtful. + +"I will write a sermon on that theme," said he; for this was with him a +favourite way out of an argument. In truth the Vicar loved the prophecy, +as a quiet student often loves a thing that echoes of the world which he +has shunned. + +"You must write down for me what the King says to you, Simon," he told +me once. + +"Suppose, sir," I suggested mischievously, "that it should not be fit +for your eye?" + +"Then write it, Simon," he answered, pinching my ear, "for my +understanding." + +It was well enough for the Vicar's whimsical fancy to busy itself with +Betty Nasroth's prophecy, half-believing, half-mocking, never forgetting +nor disregarding; but I, who am, after all, the most concerned, doubt +whether such a dark utterance be a wholesome thing to hang round a young +man's neck. The dreams of youth grow rank enough without such watering. +The prediction was always in my mind, alluring and tantalising as a +teasing girl who puts her pretty face near yours, safe that you dare not +kiss it. What it said I mused on, what it said not I neglected. I +dedicated my idle hours to it, and, not appeased, it invaded my seasons +of business. Rather than seek my own path, I left myself to its will and +hearkened for its whispered orders. + +"It was the same," observed my mother sadly, "with a certain cook-maid +of my sister's. It was foretold that she should marry her master." + +"And did she not?" cried the Vicar, with ears all pricked-up. + +"She changed her service every year," said my mother, "seeking the +likeliest man, until at last none would hire her." + +"She should have stayed in her first service," said the Vicar, shaking +his head. + +"But her first master had a wife," retorted my mother triumphantly. + +"I had one once myself," said the Vicar. + +The argument, with which his widowhood supplied the Vicar, was sound and +unanswerable, and it suited well with my humour to learn from my aunt's +cook-maid, and wait patiently on fate. But what avails an argument, be +it ever so sound, against an empty purse? It was declared that I must +seek my fortune; yet on the method of my search some difference arose. + +"You must work, Simon," said my sister Lucy, who was betrothed to +Justice Barnard, a young squire of good family and high repute, but +mighty hard on idle vagrants, and free with the stocks for revellers. + +"You must pray for guidance," said my sister Mary, who was to wed a +saintly clergyman, a Prebend, too, of the Cathedral. + +"There is," said I stoutly, "nothing of such matters in Betty Nasroth's +prophecy." + +"They are taken for granted, dear boy," said my mother gently. + +The Vicar rubbed his nose. + +Yet not these excellent and zealous counsellors proved right, but the +Vicar and I. For had I gone to London, as they urged, instead of abiding +where I was, agreeably to the Vicar's argument and my own inclination, +it is a great question whether the plague would not have proved too +strong for Betty Nasroth, and her prediction gone to lie with me in a +death-pit. As things befell, I lived, hearing only dimly and, as it +were, from afar-off of that great calamity, and of the horrors that +beset the city. For the disease did not come our way, and we moralised +on the sins of the townsfolk with sound bodies and contented minds. We +were happy in our health and in our virtue, and not disinclined to +applaud God's judgment that smote our erring brethren; for too often the +chastisement of one sinner feeds another's pride. Yet the plague had a +hand, and no small one, in that destiny of mine, although it came not +near me; for it brought fresh tenants to those same rooms in the +gardener's cottage where the Vicar had dwelt till the loyal Parliament's +Act proved too hard for the conscience of our Independent minister, and +the Vicar, nothing loth, moved back to his parsonage. + +Now I was walking one day, as I had full licence and leave to walk, in +the avenue of Quinton Manor, when I saw, first, what I had (if I am to +tell the truth) come to see, to wit, the figure of young Mistress +Barbara, daintily arrayed in a white summer gown. Barbara was pleased +to hold herself haughtily towards me, for she was an heiress, and of a +house that had not fallen in the world as mine had. Yet we were friends; +for we sparred and rallied, she giving offence and I taking it, she +pardoning my rudeness and I accepting forgiveness; while my lord and my +lady, perhaps thinking me too low for fear and yet high enough for +favour, showed me much kindness; my lord, indeed, would often jest with +me on the great fate foretold me in Betty Nasroth's prophecy. + +"Yet," he would say, with a twinkle in his eye, "the King has strange +secrets, and there is some strange wine in his cup, and to love where he +loves----"; but at this point the Vicar, who chanced to be by, twinkled +also, but shifted the conversation to some theme which did not touch the +King, his secrets, his wine, or where he loved. + +Thus then I saw, as I say, the slim tall figure, the dark hair, and the +proud eyes of Barbara Quinton; and the eyes were flashing in anger as +their owner turned away from--what I had not looked to see in Barbara's +company. This was another damsel, of lower stature and plumper figure, +dressed full as prettily as Barbara herself, and laughing with most +merry lips and under eyes that half hid themselves in an eclipse of +mirth. When Barbara saw me, she did not, as her custom was, feign not to +see me till I thrust my presence on her, but ran to me at once, crying +very indignantly, "Simon, who is this girl? She has dared to tell me +that my gown is of country make and hangs like an old smock on a +beanpole." + +"Mistress Barbara," I answered, "who heeds the make of the gown when the +wearer is of divine make?" I was young then, and did not know that to +compliment herself at the expense of her apparel is not the best way to +please a woman. + +"You are silly," said Barbara. "Who is she?" + +"The girl," said I, crestfallen, "is, they tell me, from London, and she +lodges with her mother in your gardener's cottage. But I didn't look to +find her here in the avenue." + +"You shall not again if I have my way," said Barbara. Then she added +abruptly and sharply, "Why do you look at her?" + +Now, it was true that I was looking at the stranger, and on Barbara's +question I looked the harder. + +"She is mighty pretty," said I. "Does she not seem so to you, Mistress +Barbara?" And, simple though I was, I spoke not altogether in +simplicity. + +"Pretty?" echoed Barbara. "And pray what do you know of prettiness, +Master Simon?" + +"What I have learnt at Quinton Manor," I answered, with a bow. + +"That doesn't prove her pretty," retorted the angry lady. + +"There's more than one way of it," said I discreetly, and I took a step +towards the visitor, who stood some ten yards from us, laughing still +and plucking a flower to pieces in her fingers. + +"She isn't known to you?" asked Barbara, perceiving my movement. + +"I can remedy that," said I, smiling. + +Never since the world began had youth been a more faithful servant to +maid than I to Barbara Quinton. Yet because, if a man lie down, the best +of girls will set her pretty foot on his neck, and also from my love of +a thing that is new, I was thoroughly resolved to accost the gardener's +guest; and my purpose was not altered by Barbara's scornful toss of her +little head as she turned away. + +"It is no more than civility," I protested, "to ask after her health, +for, coming from London, she can but just have escaped the plague." + +Barbara tossed her head again, declaring plainly her opinion of my +excuse. + +"But if you desire me to walk with you----" I began. + +"There is nothing I thought of less," she interrupted. "I came here to +be alone." + +"My pleasure lies in obeying you," said I, and I stood bareheaded while +Barbara, without another glance at me, walked off towards the house. +Half penitent, yet wholly obstinate, I watched her go; she did not once +look over her shoulder. Had she--but a truce to that. What passed is +enough; with what might have, my story would stretch to the world's end. +I smothered my remorse, and went up to the stranger, bidding her +good-day in my most polite and courtly manner; she smiled, but at what I +knew not. She seemed little more than a child, sixteen years old or +seventeen at the most, yet there was no confusion in her greeting of me. +Indeed, she was most marvellously at her ease, for, on my salute, she +cried, lifting her hands in feigned amazement, + +"A man, by my faith; a man in this place!" + +Well pleased to be called a man, I bowed again. + +"Or at least," she added, "what will be one, if it please Heaven." + +"You may live to see it without growing wrinkled," said I, striving to +conceal my annoyance. + +"And one that has repartee in him! Oh, marvellous!" + +"We do not all lack wit in the country, madame," said I, simpering as I +supposed the Court gallants to simper, "nor, since the plague came to +London, beauty." + +"Indeed, it's wonderful," she cried in mock admiration. "Do they teach +such sayings hereabouts, sir?" + +"Even so, madame, and from such books as your eyes furnish." And for all +her air of mockery, I was, as I remember, much pleased with this speech. +It had come from some well-thumbed romance, I doubt not. I was always an +eager reader of such silly things. + +She curtseyed low, laughing up at me with roguish eyes and mouth. + +"Now, surely, sir," she said, "you must be Simon Dale, of whom my host +the gardener speaks?" + +"It is my name, madame, at your service. But the gardener has played me +a trick; for now I have nothing to give in exchange for your name." + +"Nay, you have a very pretty nosegay in your hand," said she. "I might +be persuaded to barter my name for it." + +The nosegay that was in my hand I had gathered and brought for Barbara +Quinton, and I still meant to use it as a peace-offering. But Barbara +had treated me harshly, and the stranger looked longingly at the +nosegay. + +"The gardener is a niggard with his flowers," she said with a coaxing +smile. + +"To confess the truth," said I, wavering in my purpose, "the nosegay was +plucked for another." + +"It will smell the sweeter," she cried, with a laugh. "Nothing gives +flowers such a perfume." And she held out a wonderfully small hand +towards my nosegay. + +"Is that a London lesson?" I asked, holding the flowers away from her +grasp. + +"It holds good in the country also, sir; wherever, indeed, there is a +man to gather flowers and more than one lady who loves smelling them." + +"Well," said I, "the nosegay is yours at the price," and I held it out +to her. + +"The price? What, you desire to know my name?" + +"Unless, indeed, I may call you one of my own choosing," said I, with a +glance that should have been irresistible. + +"Would you use it in speaking of me to Mistress Barbara there? No, I'll +give you a name to call me by. You may call me Cydaria." + +"Cydaria! A fine name!" + +"It is," said she carelessly, "as good as any other." + +"But is there no other to follow it?" + +"When did a poet ask two names to head his sonnet? And surely you wanted +mine for a sonnet?" + +"So be it, Cydaria," said I. + +"So be it, Simon. And is not Cydaria as pretty as Barbaria?" + +"It has a strange sound," said I, "but it's well enough." + +"And now--the nosegay!" + +"I must pay a reckoning for this," I sighed; but since a bargain is a +bargain I gave her the nosegay. + +She took it, her face all alight with smiles, and buried her nose in it. +I stood looking at her, caught by her pretty ways and graceful boldness. +Boy though I was, I had been right in telling her that there are many +ways of beauty; here were two to start with, hers and Barbara's. She +looked up and, finding my gaze on her, made a little grimace as though +it were only what she had expected and gave her no more concern than +pleasure. Yet at such a look Barbara would have turned cold and distant +for an hour or more. Cydaria, smiling in scornful indulgence, dropped me +another mocking curtsey, and made as though she would go her way. Yet +she did not go, but stood with her head half-averted, a glance straying +towards me from the corner of her eye, while with her tiny foot she dug +the gravel of the avenue. + +"It is a lovely place, this park," said she. "But, indeed, it's often +hard to find the way about it." + +I was not backward to take her hint. + +"If you had a guide now----" I began. + +"Why, yes, if I had a guide, Simon," she whispered gleefully. + +"You could find the way, Cydaria, and your guide would be most----" + +"Most charitably engaged. But then----" She paused, drooping the corners +of her mouth in sudden despondency. + +"But what then?" + +"Why then, Mistress Barbara would be alone." + +I hesitated. I glanced towards the house. I looked at Cydaria. + +"She told me that she wished to be alone," said I. + +"No? How did she say it?" + +"I will tell you all about that as we go along," said I, and Cydaria +laughed again. + + + + +CHAPTER II + +THE WAY OF YOUTH + + +The debate is years old; not indeed quite so old as the world, since +Adam and Eve cannot, for want of opportunity, have fallen out over it, +yet descending to us from unknown antiquity. But it has never been set +at rest by general consent: the quarrel over Passive Obedience is +nothing to it. It seems such a small matter though; for the debate I +mean turns on no greater question than this: may a man who owns +allegiance to one lady justify by any train of reasoning his conduct in +snatching a kiss from another, this other being (for it is important to +have the terms right) not (so far as can be judged) unwilling? I +maintained that he might; to be sure, my position admitted of no other +argument, and, for the most part, it is a man's state which determines +his arguments and not his reasons that induce his state. Barbara +declared that he could not; though, to be sure, it was, as she added +most promptly, no concern of hers; for she cared not whether I were in +love or not, nor how deeply, nor with whom, nor, in a word, anything at +all about the matter. It was an abstract opinion she gave, so far as +love, or what men chose to call such, might be involved; as to +seemliness, she must confess that she had her view, with which, may be, +Mr Dale was not in agreement. The girl at the gardener's cottage must, +she did not doubt, agree wholly with Mr Dale; how otherwise would she +have suffered the kiss in an open space in the park, where anybody might +pass--and where, in fact (by the most perverse chance in the world), +pretty Mistress Barbara herself passed at the moment when the thing +occurred? However, if the matter could ever have had the smallest +interest for her--save in so far as it touched the reputation of the +village and might afford an evil example to the village maidens--it +could have none at all now, seeing that she set out the next day to +London, to take her place as Maid of Honour to Her Royal Highness the +Duchess, and would have as little leisure as inclination to think of Mr +Simon Dale or of how he chose to amuse himself when he believed that +none was watching. Not that she had watched: her presence was the purest +and most unwelcome chance. Yet she could not but be glad to hear that +the girl was soon to go back whence she came, to the great relief (she +was sure) of Madame Dale and of her dear friends Lucy and Mary; to her +love for whom nothing--no, nothing--should make any difference. For the +girl herself she wished no harm, but she conceived that her mother must +be ill at ease concerning her. + +It will be allowed that Mistress Barbara had the most of the argument if +not the best. Indeed, I found little to say, except that the village +would be the worse by so much as the Duchess of York was the better for +Mistress Barbara's departure; the civility won me nothing but the +haughtiest curtsey and a taunt. + +"Must you rehearse your pretty speeches on me before you venture them on +your friends, sir?" she asked. + +"I am at your mercy, Mistress Barbara," I pleaded. "Are we to part +enemies?" + +She made me no answer, but I seemed to see a softening in her face as +she turned away towards the window, whence were to be seen the stretch +of the lawn and the park-meadows beyond. I believe that with a little +more coaxing she would have pardoned me, but at the instant, by another +stroke of perversity, a small figure sauntered across the sunny fields. +The fairest sights may sometimes come amiss. + +"Cydaria! A fine name!" said Barbara, with curling lip. "I'll wager she +has reasons for giving no other." + +"Her mother gives another to the gardener," I reminded her meekly. + +"Names are as easy given as--as kisses!" she retorted. "As for Cydaria, +my lord says it is a name out of a play." + +All this while we had stood at the window, watching Cydaria's light feet +trip across the meadow, and her bonnet swing wantonly in her hand. But +now Cydaria disappeared among the trunks of the beech trees. + +"See, she has gone," said I in a whisper. "She is gone, Mistress +Barbara." + +Barbara understood what I would say, but she was resolved to show me no +gentleness. The soft tones of my voice had been for her, but she would +not accept their homage. + +"You need not sigh for that before my face," said she. "And yet, sigh if +you will. What is it to me? But she is not gone far, and, doubtless, +will not run too fast when you pursue." + +"When you are in London," said I, "you will think with remorse how ill +you used me." + +"I shall never think of you at all. Do you forget that there are +gentlemen of wit and breeding at the Court?" + +"The devil fly away with every one of them!" cried I suddenly, not +knowing then how well the better part of them would match their escort. + +Barbara turned to me; there was a gleam of triumph in the depths of her +dark eyes. + +"Perhaps when you hear of me at Court," she cried, "you'll be sorry to +think how----" + +But she broke off suddenly, and looked out of the window. + +"You'll find a husband there," I suggested bitterly. + +"Like enough," said she carelessly. + +To be plain, I was in no happy mood. Her going grieved me to the heart, +and that she should go thus incensed stung me yet more. I was jealous of +every man in London town. Had not my argument, then, some reason in it +after all? + +"Fare-you-well, madame," said I, with a heavy frown and a sweeping bow. +No player from the Lane could have been more tragic. + +"Fare-you-well, sir. I will not detain you, for you have, I know, other +farewells to make." + +"Not for a week yet!" I cried, goaded to a show of exultation that +Cydaria stayed so long. + +"I don't doubt that you'll make good use of the time," she said, as with +a fine dignity she waved me to the door. Girl as she was, she had caught +or inherited the grand air that great ladies use. + +Gloomily I passed out, to fall into the hands of my lord, who was +walking on the terrace. He caught me by the arm, laughing in +good-humoured mockery. + +"You've had a touch of sentiment, eh, you rogue?" said he. "Well, +there's little harm in that, since the girl leaves us to-morrow." + +"Indeed, my lord, there was little harm," said I, long-faced and rueful. +"As little as my lady herself could wish." (At this he smiled and +nodded.) "Mistress Barbara will hardly so much as look at me." + +He grew graver, though the smile still hung about his lips. + +"They gossip about you in the village, Simon," said he. "Take a friend's +counsel, and don't be so much with the lady at the cottage. Come, I +don't speak without reason." He nodded at me as a man nods who means +more than he will say. Indeed, not a word more would he say, so that +when I left him I was even more angry than when I parted from his +daughter. And, the nature of man being such as Heaven has made it, what +need to say that I bent my steps to the cottage with all convenient +speed? The only weapon of an ill-used lover (nay, I will not argue the +merits of the case again) was ready to my hand. + +Yet my impatience availed little; for there, on the seat that stood by +the door, sat my good friend the Vicar, discoursing in pleasant leisure +with the lady who named herself Cydaria. + +"It is true," he was saying. "I fear it is true, though you're over +young to have learnt it." + +"There are schools, sir," she returned, with a smile that had (or so it +seemed to me) a touch--no more--of bitterness in it, "where such lessons +are early learnt." + +"They are best let alone, those schools," said he. + +"And what's the lesson?" I asked, drawing nearer. + +Neither answered. The Vicar rested his hands on the ball of his cane, +and suddenly began to relate old Betty Nasroth's prophecy to his +companion. I cannot tell what led his thoughts to it, but it was never +far from his mind when I was by. She listened with attention, smiling +brightly in whimsical amusement when the fateful words, pronounced with +due solemnity, left the Vicar's lips. + +"It is a strange saying," he ended, "of which time alone can show the +truth." + +She glanced at me with merry eyes, yet with a new air of interest. It is +strange the hold these superstitions have on all of us; though surely +future ages will outgrow such childishness. + +"I don't know what the prophecy means," said she; "yet one thing at +least would seem needful for its fulfilment--that Mr Dale should become +acquainted with the King." + +"True!" cried the Vicar eagerly. "Everything stands on that, and on that +we stick. For Simon cannot love where the King loves, nor know what the +King hides, nor drink of the King's cup, if he abide all his days here +in Hatchstead. Come, Simon, the plague is gone!" + +"Should I then be gone too?" I asked. "But to what end? I have no +friends in London who would bring me to the notice of the King." + +The Vicar shook his head sadly. I had no such friends, and the King had +proved before now that he could forget many a better friend to the +throne than my dear father's open mind had made of him. + +"We must wait, we must wait still," said the Vicar. "Time will find a +friend." + +Cydaria had become pensive for a moment, but she looked up now, smiling +again, and said to me: + +"You'll soon have a friend in London." + +Thinking of Barbara, I answered gloomily, "She's no friend of mine." + +"I did not mean whom you mean," said Cydaria, with twinkling eyes and +not a whit put out. "But I also am going to London." + +I smiled, for it did not seem as though she would be a powerful friend, +or able to open any way for me. But she met my smile with another so +full of confidence and challenge that my attention was wholly caught, +and I did not heed the Vicar's farewell as he rose and left us. + +"And would you serve me," I asked, "if you had the power?" + +"Nay, put the question as you think it," said she. "Would you have the +power to serve me if you had the will? Is not that the doubt in your +mind?" + +"And if it were?" + +"Then, indeed, I do not know how to answer; but strange things happen +there in London, and it may be that some day even I should have some +power." + +"And you would use it for me?" + +"Could I do less on behalf of a gentleman who has risked his mistress's +favour for my poor cheek's sake?" And she fell to laughing again, her +mirth growing greater as I turned red in the face. "You mustn't blush +when you come to town," she cried, "or they'll make a ballad on you, and +cry you in the streets for a monster." + +"The oftener comes the cause, the rarer shall the effect be," said I. + +"The excuse is well put," she conceded. "We should make a wit of you in +town." + +"What do you in town?" I asked squarely, looking her full in the eyes. + +"Perhaps, sometimes," she laughed, "what I have done once--and to your +good knowledge--since I came to the country." + +Thus she would baffle me with jesting answers as often as I sought to +find out who and what she was. Nor had I better fortune with her mother, +for whom I had small liking, and who had, as it seemed, no more for me. +For she was short in her talk, and frowned to see me with her daughter. +Yet she saw me, I must confess, often with Cydaria in the next days, and +I was often with Cydaria when she did not see me. For Barbara was gone, +leaving me both sore and lonely, all in the mood to find comfort where I +could, and to see manliness in desertion; and there was a charm about +the girl that grew on me insensibly and without my will until I came to +love, not her (as I believed, forgetting that Love loves not to mark his +boundaries too strictly) but her merry temper, her wit and cheerfulness. +Moreover, these things were mingled and spiced with others, more +attractive than all to unfledged youth, an air of the world and a +knowledge of life which piqued my curiosity and sat (it seems so even to +my later mind as I look back) with bewitching incongruity on the +laughing child's face and the unripe grace of girlhood. Her moods were +endless, vying with one another in an ever undetermined struggle for the +prize of greatest charm. For the most part she was merry, frank mirth +passing into sly raillery; now and then she would turn sad, sighing, +"Heigho, that I could stay in the sweet innocent country!" Or again she +would show or ape an uneasy conscience, whispering, "Ah, that I were +like your Mistress Barbara!" The next moment she would be laughing and +jesting and mocking, as though life were nought but a great +many-coloured bubble, and she the brightest-tinted gleam on it. + +Are women so constant and men so forgetful, that all sympathy must go +from me and all esteem be forfeited because, being of the age of +eighteen years, I vowed to live for one lady only on a Monday and was +ready to die for another on the Saturday? Look back; bow your heads, and +give me your hands, to kiss or to clasp! + + Let not you and I inquire + What has been our past desire, + On what shepherds you have smiled, + Or what nymphs I have beguiled; + Leave it to the planets too + What we shall hereafter do; + For the joys we now may prove, + Take advice of present love. + +Nay, I will not set my name to that in its fulness; Mr Waller is a +little too free for one who has been nicknamed a Puritan to follow him +to the end. Yet there is a truth in it. Deny it, if you will. You are +smiling, madame, while you deny. + +It was a golden summer's evening when I, to whom the golden world was +all a hell, came by tryst to the park of Quinton Manor, there to bid +Cydaria farewell. Mother and sisters had looked askance at me, the +village gossiped, even the Vicar shook a kindly head. What cared I? By +Heaven, why was one man a nobleman and rich, while another had no money +in his purse and but one change to his back? Was not love all in all, +and why did Cydaria laugh at a truth so manifest? There she was under +the beech tree, with her sweet face screwed up to a burlesque of grief, +her little hand lying on her hard heart as though it beat for me, and +her eyes the playground of a thousand quick expressions. I strode up to +her, and caught her by the hand, saying no more than just her name, +"Cydaria." It seemed that there was no more to say; yet she cried, +laughing and reproachful, "Have you no vows for me? Must I go without my +tribute?" + +I loosed her hand and stood away from her. On my soul, I could not +speak. I was tongue-tied, dumb as a dog. + +"When you come courting in London," she said, "you must not come so +empty of lover's baggage. There ladies ask vows, and protestations, and +despair, ay, and poetry, and rhapsodies, and I know not what." + +"Of all these I have nothing but despair," said I. + +"Then you make a sad lover," she pouted. "And I am glad to be going +where lovers are less woebegone." + +"You look for lovers in London?" I cried, I that had cried to +Barbara--well, I have said my say on that. + +"If Heaven send them," answered Cydaria. + +"And you will forget me?" + +"In truth, yes, unless you come yourself to remind me. I have no head +for absent lovers." + +"But if I come----" I began in a sudden flush of hope. + +She did not (though it was her custom) answer in raillery; she plucked a +leaf from the tree, and tore it with her fingers as she answered with a +curious glance. + +"Why, if you come, I think you'll wish that you had not come, unless, +indeed, you've forgotten me before you come." + +"Forget you! Never while I live! May I come, Cydaria?" + +"Most certainly, sir, so soon as your wardrobe and your purse allow. +Nay, don't be huffed. Come, Simon, sweet Simon, are we not friends, and +may not friends rally one another? No, and if I choose, I will put my +hand through your arm. Indeed, sir, you're the first gentleman that ever +thrust it away. See, it is there now! Doesn't it look well there, +Simon--and feel well there, Simon?" She looked up into my face in +coaxing apology for the hurt she had given me, and yet still with +mockery of my tragic airs. "Yes, you must by all means come to London," +she went on, patting my arm. "Is not Mistress Barbara in London? And I +think--am I wrong, Simon?--that there is something for which you will +want to ask her pardon." + +"If I come to London, it is for you and you only that I shall come," I +cried. + +"No, no. You will come to love where the King loves, to know what he +hides, and to drink of his cup. I, sir, cannot interfere with your great +destiny"; she drew away from me, curtseyed low, and stood opposite to +me, smiling. + +"For you and for you only," I repeated. + +"Then will the King love me?" she asked. + +"God forbid," said I fervently. + +"Oh, and why, pray, your 'God forbid'? You're very ready with your 'God +forbids.' Am I then to take your love sooner than the King's, Master +Simon?" + +"Mine is an honest love," said I soberly. + +"Oh, I should doat on the country, if everybody didn't talk of his +honesty there! I have seen the King in London and he is a fine +gentleman." + +"And you have seen the Queen also, may be?" + +"In truth, yes. Ah, I have shocked you, Simon? Well, I was wrong. Come, +we're in the country; we'll be good. But when we've made a townsman of +you, we'll--we will be what they are in town. Moreover, in ten minutes I +am going home, and it would be hard if I also left you in anger. You +shall have a pleasanter memory of my going than Mistress Barbara's gave +you." + +"How shall I find you when I come to town?" + +"Why, if you will ask any gentleman you meet whether he chances to +remember Cydaria, you will find me as soon as it is well you should." + +I prayed her to tell me more; but she was resolved to tell no more. + +"See, it is late. I go," said she. Then suddenly she came near to me. +"Poor Simon," she said softly. "Yet it is good for you, Simon. Some day +you will be amused at this, Simon"; she spoke as though she were fifty +years older than I. My answer lay not in words or arguments. I caught +her in my arms and kissed her. She struggled, yet she laughed. It shot +through my mind then that Barbara would neither have struggled nor +laughed. But Cydaria laughed. + +Presently I let her go, and kneeling on my knee kissed her hand very +humbly, as though she had been what Barbara was. If she were not--and I +knew not what she was--yet should my love exalt her and make a throne +whereon she might sit a Queen. My new posture brought a sudden gravity +to her face, and she bent over me with a smile that seemed now tender +and almost sorrowful. + +"Poor Simon, poor Simon," she whispered. "Kiss my hand now; kiss it as +though I were fit for worship. It will do you no harm, and--and +perhaps--perhaps I shall like to remember it." She bent down and kissed +my forehead as I knelt before her. "Poor Simon," she whispered, as her +hair brushed mine. Then her hand was gradually and gently withdrawn. I +looked up to see her face; her lips were smiling but there seemed a dew +on her lashes. She laughed, and the laugh ended in a little gasp, as +though a sob had fought with it. And she cried out loud, her voice +ringing clear among the trees in the still evening air. + +"That ever I should be so sore a fool!" + +Then she turned and left me, running swiftly over the grass, with never +a look behind her. I watched till she was out of sight, and then sat +down on the ground; with twitching lips and wide-open dreary eyes. + +Ah, for youth's happiness! Alas for its dismal woe! Thus she came into +my life. + + + + +CHAPTER III + +THE MUSIC OF THE WORLD + + +If a philosopher, learned in the human mind as Flamsteed in the courses +of the stars or the great Newton in the laws of external nature, were to +take one possessed by a strong passion of love or a bitter grief, or +what overpowering emotion you will, and were to consider impartially and +with cold precision what share of his time was in reality occupied by +the thing which, as we are in the habit of saying, filled his thoughts +or swayed his life or mastered his intellect, the world might well smile +(and to my thinking had better smile than weep) at the issue of the +investigation. When the first brief shock was gone, how few out of the +solid twenty-four would be the hours claimed by the despot, however much +the poets might call him insatiable. There is sleeping, and meat and +drink, the putting on and off of raiment and the buying of it. If a man +be of sound body, there is his sport; if he be sane, there are the +interests of this life and provision for the next. And if he be young, +there is nature's own joy in living, which with a patient scornful smile +sets aside his protest that he is vowed to misery, and makes him, +willy-nilly, laugh and sing. So that, if he do not drown himself in a +week and thereby balk the inquiry, it is odds that he will compose +himself in a month, and by the end of a year will carry no more marks of +his misfortune than (if he be a man of good heart) an added sobriety and +tenderness of spirit. Yet all this does not hinder the thing from +returning, on occasion given. + +In my own case--and, if my story be followed to its close, I am +persuaded that I shall not be held to be one who took the disease of +love more lightly than my fellows--this process of convalescence, most +salutary, yet in a sense humiliating, was aided by a train of +circumstances, in which my mother saw the favour of Heaven to our family +and the Vicar the working of Betty Nasroth's prophecy. An uncle of my +mother's had some forty years ago established a manufactory of wool at +Norwich, and having kept always before his eyes the truth that men must +be clothed, howsoever they may think on matters of Church and State, and +that it is a cloth-weaver's business to clothe them and not to think for +them, had lived a quiet life through all the disturbances and had +prospered greatly in his trade. For marriage either time or inclination +had failed him, and, being now an old man, he felt a favourable +disposition towards me, and declared the intention of making me heir to +a considerable portion of his fortune provided that I showed myself +worthy of such kindness. The proof he asked was not beyond reason, +though I found cause for great lamentation in it; for it was that, in +lieu of seeking to get to London, I should go to Norwich and live there +with him, to solace his last years and, although not engaged in his +trade, learn by observation something of the serious occupations of life +and of the condition of my fellow-men, of which things young gentlemen, +said he, were for the most part sadly ignorant. Indeed, they were, and +they thought no better of a companion for being wiser; to do anything or +know anything that might redound to the benefit of man or the honour of +God was not the mode in those days. Nor do I say that the fashion has +changed greatly, no, nor that it will change. Therefore to Norwich I +went, although reluctantly, and there I stayed fully three years, +applying myself to the comforting of my uncle's old age, and consoling +my leisure with the diversions which that great and important city +afforded, and which, indeed, were enough for any rational mind. But +reason and youth are bad bedfellows, and all the while I was like the +Israelites in the wilderness; my thoughts were set upon the Promised +Land and I endured my probation hardly. To this mood I set down the fact +that little of my life at Norwich lives in my memory, and to that little +I seldom recur in thought; the time before it and the time after engross +my backward glances. The end came with my uncle's death, whereat I, the +recipient of great kindness from him, sincerely grieved, and that with +some remorse, since I had caused him sorrow by refusing to take up his +occupation as my own, preferring my liberty and a moderate endowment to +all his fortune saddled with the condition of passing my days as a +cloth-weaver. Had I chosen otherwise, I should have lived a more +peaceful and died a richer man. Yet I do not repent; not riches nor +peace, but the stir of the blood, the work of the hand, and the service +of the brain make a life that a man can look back on without shame and +with delight. + +I was nearing my twenty-second birthday when I returned to Hatchstead +with an air and manner, I doubt not, sadly provincial, but with a lining +to my pocket for whose sake many a gallant would have surrendered some +of his plumes and feathers. Three thousand pounds, invested in my +uncle's business and returning good and punctual profit made of Simon +Dale a person of far greater importance in the eyes of his family than +he had been three years ago. It was a competence on which a gentleman +could live with discretion and modesty, it was a step from which his +foot could rise higher on life's ladder. London was in my power, all it +held of promise and possibility was not beyond the flight of my soaring +mind. My sisters exchanged sharp admonitions for admiring deference, and +my mother feared nothing save that the great place to which I was now +surely destined might impair the homely virtues which she had instilled +into me. As for the Vicar, he stroked his nose and glanced at me with +an eye which spoke so plainly of Betty Nasroth that I fell to laughing +heartily. + +Thus, being in great danger of self-exaltation, I took the best medicine +that I could--although by no means with intention--in waiting on my lord +Quinton, who was then residing at the Manor. Here my swelled spirit was +smartly pricked, and sank soon to its true proportions. I was no great +man here, and although my lord received me very kindly, he had less to +say on the richness of my fortune than on the faults of my manner and +the rustic air of my attire. Yet he bade me go to London, since there a +man, rubbing shoulders with all the world, learnt to appraise his own +value, and lost the ignorant conceit of himself that a village greatness +is apt to breed. Somewhat crestfallen, I thanked him for his kindness, +and made bold to ask after Mistress Barbara. + +"She is well enough," he answered, smiling. "And she is become a great +lady. The wits make epigrams on her, and the fools address verses to +her. But she's a good girl, Simon." + +"I'm sure of it, my lord," I cried. + +"He's a bold man who would be sure of it concerning anyone nowadays," he +said dryly. "Yet so, thank God, it is. See, here's a copy of the verses +she had lately," and he flung me the paper. I glanced over it and saw +much about "dazzling ice," "unmelting snow," "Venus," "Diana," and so +forth. + +"It seems sad stuff, my lord," said I. + +"Why, yes," he laughed; "but it is by a gentle man of repute. Take care +you write none worse, Simon." + +"Shall I have the honour of waiting on Mistress Barbara, my lord?" I +asked. + +"As to that, Simon, we will see when you come. Yes, we must see what +company you keep. For example, on whom else do you think of waiting when +you are set up in London?" + +He looked steadily at me, a slight frown on his brow, yet a smile, and +not an unkind one, on his lips. I grew hot, and knew that I grew red +also. + +"I am acquainted with few in London, my lord," I stammered, "and with +those not well." + +"Those not well, indeed," he echoed, the pucker deepening and the smile +vanishing. Yet the smile came again as he rose and clapped me on the +shoulder. + +"You're an honest lad, Simon," he said, "even though it may have pleased +God to make you a silly one. And, by Heaven, who would have all lads +wise? Go to London, learn to know more folk, learn to know better those +whom you know. Bear yourself as a gentleman, and remember, Simon, +whatsoever else the King may be, yet he is the King." + +Saying this with much emphasis, he led me gently to the door. + +"Why did he say that about the King?" I pondered as I walked homeward +through the park; for although what we all, even in the country, knew of +the King gave warrant enough for the words, my lord had seemed to speak +them to me with some special meaning, and as though they concerned me +more than most men. Yet what, if I left aside Betty's foolish talk, as +my lord surely did, had I to do with the King, or with what he might be +besides the King? + +About this time much stir had been aroused in the country by the +dismissal from all his offices of that great Minister and accomplished +writer, the Earl of Clarendon, and by the further measures which his +enemies threatened against him. The village elders were wont to assemble +on the days when the post came in and discuss eagerly the news brought +from London. The affairs of Government troubled my head very little, but +in sheer idleness I used often to join them, wondering to see them so +perturbed at the happening of things which made mighty little difference +in our retired corner. Thus I was in the midst of them, at the King and +Crown Tavern, on the Green, two days after I had talked with my lord +Quinton. I sat with a mug of ale before me, engrossed in my own thoughts +and paying little heed to what passed, when, to my amazement, the +postman, leaping from his horse, came straight across to me, holding out +in his hand a large packet of important appearance. To receive a letter +was a rare event in my life, and a rarer followed, setting the cap on +my surprise. For the man, though he was fully ready to drink my health, +demanded no money for the letter, saying that it came on the service of +His Majesty and was not chargeable. He spoke low enough, and there was a +babble about, but it seemed as though the name of the King made its way +through all the hubbub to the Vicar's ears; for he rose instantly, and, +stepping to my side, sat down by me, crying, + +"What said he of the King, Simon?" + +"Why, he said," I answered, "that this great letter comes to me on the +King's service, and that I have nothing to pay for it," and I turned it +over and over in my hands. But the inscription was plain enough. "To +Master Simon Dale, Esquire, at Hatchstead, by Hatfield." + +By this time half the company was round us, and my Lord Clarendon +well-nigh forgotten. Small things near are greater than great things +afar, and at Hatchstead my affairs were of more moment than the fall of +a Chancellor or the King's choice of new Ministers. A cry arose that I +should open my packet and disclose what it contained. + +"Nay," said the Vicar, with an air of importance, "it may be on a +private matter that the King writes." + +They would have believed that of my lord at the Manor, they could not of +Simon Dale. The Vicar met their laughter bravely. + +"But the King and Simon are to have private matters between them one +day," he cried, shaking his fist at the mockers, himself half in +mockery. + +Meanwhile I opened my packet and read. To this day the amazement its +contents bred in me is fresh. For the purport was that the King, +remembering my father's services to the King's father (and forgetting, +as it seemed, those done to General Cromwell), and being informed of my +own loyal disposition, courage, and good parts, had been graciously +pleased to name me to a commission in His Majesty's Regiment of Life +Guards, such commission being post-dated six months from the day of +writing, in order that Mr Dale should have the leisure to inform himself +of his duties and fit himself for his post; to which end it was the +King's further pleasure that Mr Dale should present himself, bringing +this same letter with him, without delay at Whitehall, and there be +instructed in his drill and in all other matters necessary for him to +know. Thus the letter ended, with a commendation of me to the care of +the Almighty. + +I sat, gasping; the gossips gaped round me; the Vicar seemed stunned. At +last somebody grumbled, + +"I do not love these Guards. What need of guard has the King except in +the love of his subjects?" + +"So his father found, did he?" cried the Vicar, an aflame in a moment. + +"The Life Guards!" I murmured. "It is the first regiment of all in +honour." + +"Ay, my lad," said the Vicar. "It would have been well enough for you to +serve in the ranks of it, but to hold His Majesty's Commission!" Words +failed him, and he flew to the landlord's snuff-box, which that good +man, moved by subtle sympathy, held out, pat to the occasion. + +Suddenly those words of my lord's that had at the time of their +utterance caught my attention so strongly flashed into my mind, seeming +now to find their explanation. If there were fault to be found in the +King, it did not lie with his own servants and officers to find it; I +was now of his household; my lord must have known what was on the way to +me from London when he addressed me so pointedly; and he could know only +because he had himself been the mover in the matter. I sprang up and ran +across to the Vicar, crying, + +"Why, it is my lord's kindness! He has spoken for me." + +"Ay, ay, it is my lord," was grunted and nodded round the circle in the +satisfaction of a discovery obvious so soon as made. The Vicar alone +dissented; he took another pinch and wagged his head petulantly. + +"I don't think it's my lord," said he. + +"But why not, sir, and who else?" I urged. + +"I don't know, but I do not think it is my lord," he persisted. + +Then I laughed at him, and he understood well that I mocked his dislike +of a plain-sailing everyday account of anything to which it might be +possible by hook or crook to attach a tag of mystery. He had harped back +to the prophecy, and would not have my lord come between him and his +hobby. + +"You may laugh, Simon," said he gravely. "But it will be found to be as +I say." + +I paid no more heed to him, but caught up my hat from the bench, crying +that I must run at once and offer thanks to my lord, for he was to set +out for London that day, and would be gone if I did not hasten. + +"At least," conceded the Vicar, "you will do no harm by telling him. He +will wonder as much as we." + +Laughing again, I ran off and left the company crowding to a man round +the stubborn Vicar. It was well indeed that I did not linger, for, +having come to the Manor at my best speed, I found my lord's coach +already at the door and himself in cloak and hat about to step into it. +But he waited to hear my breathless story, and, when I came to the pith +of it, snatched my letter from my hand and read it eagerly. At first I +thought he was playing a part and meant only to deny his kindness or +delay the confession of it. His manner soon undeceived me; he was in +truth amazed, as the Vicar had predicted, but more than that, he was, if +I read his face aright, sorely displeased also; for a heavy frown +gathered on his brow, and he walked with me in utter silence the better +half of the length of the terrace. + +"I have nothing to do with it," he said bitterly. "I and my family have +done the King and his too much service to have the giving away of +favours. Kings do not love their creditors, no, nor pay them." + +"But, my lord, I can think of no other friend who would have such +power." + +"Can't you?" he asked, stopping and laying his hand on my shoulder. "May +be, Simon, you don't understand how power is come by in these days, nor +what are the titles to the King's confidence." + +His words and manner dashed my new pride, and I suppose my face grew +glum, for he went on more gently, + +"Nay, lad, since it comes, take it without question. Whatever the source +of it, your own conduct may make it an honour." + +But I could not be content with that. + +"The letter says," I remarked, "that the King is mindful of my father's +services." + +"I had thought that the age of miracles was past," smiled my lord. +"Perhaps it is not, Simon." + +"Then if it be not for my father's sake nor for yours, my lord, I am at +a loss," and I stuffed the letter into my pocket very peevishly. + +"I must be on my way," said my lord, turning towards the coach. "Let me +hear from you when you come, Simon; and I suppose you will come soon +now. You will find me at my house in Southampton Square, and my lady +will be glad of your company." + +I thanked him for his civility, but my face was still clouded. He had +seemed to suspect and hint at some taint in the fountain of honour that +had so unexpectedly flowed forth. + +"I can't tell what to make of it," I cried. + +He stopped again, as he was about to set his foot on the step of his +coach, and turned, facing me squarely. + +"There's no other friend at all in London, Simon?" he asked. Again I +grew red, as he stood watching me. "Is there not one other?" + +I collected myself as well as I could and answered, + +"One that would give me a commission in the Life Guards, my lord?" And I +laughed in scorn. + +My lord shrugged his shoulders and mounted into the coach. I closed the +door behind him, and stood waiting his reply. He leant forward and spoke +across me to the lackey behind, saying, "Go on, go on." + +"What do you mean, my lord?" I cried. He smiled, but did not speak. The +coach began to move; I had to walk to keep my place, soon I should have +to run. + +"My lord," I cried, "how could she----?" + +My lord took out his snuff-box, and opened it. + +"Nay, I cannot tell how," said he, as he carried his thumb to his nose. + +"My lord," I cried, running now, "do you know who Cydaria is?" + +My lord looked at me, as I ran panting. Soon I should have to give in, +for the horses made merry play down the avenue. He seemed to wait for +the last moment of my endurance, before he answered. Then, waving his +hand at the window, he said, "All London knows." And with that he shut +the window, and I fell back breathless, amazed, and miserably chagrined. +For he had told me nothing of all that I desired to know, and what he +had told me did no more than inflame my curiosity most unbearably. Yet, +if it were true, this mysterious lady, known to all London, had +remembered Simon Dale! A man of seventy would have been moved by such a +thing; what wonder that a boy of twenty-two should run half mad with it? + +Strange to say, it seemed to the Vicar's mind no more unlikely and +infinitely more pleasant that the King's favour should be bound up with +the lady we had called Cydaria than that it should be the plain fruit of +my lord's friendly offices. Presently his talk infected me with +something of the same spirit, and we fell to speculating on the identity +of this lady, supposing in our innocence that she must be of very +exalted rank and noble station if indeed all London knew her, and she +had a voice in the appointment of gentlemen to bear His Majesty's +Commission. It was but a step farther to discern for me a most notable +career, wherein the prophecy of Betty Nasroth should find fulfilment and +prove the link that bound together a chain of strange fortune and high +achievement. Thus our evening wore away and with it my vexation. Now I +was all eager to be gone, to set my hand to my work, to try Fate's +promises, and to learn that piece of knowledge which all London had--the +true name of her whom we called Cydaria. + +"Still," said the Vicar, falling into a sudden pensiveness as I rose to +take my leave, "there are things above fortune's favour, or a King's, or +a great lady's. To those cling, Simon, for your name's sake and for my +credit, who taught you." + +"True, sir," said I in perfunctory acknowledgment, but with errant +thoughts. "I trust, sir, that I shall always bear myself as becomes a +gentleman." + +"And a Christian," he added mildly. + +"Ay, sir, and a Christian," I agreed readily enough. + +"Go your way," he said, with a little smile. "I preach to ears that are +full now of other and louder sounds, of strains more attractive and +melodies more alluring. Therefore, now, you cannot listen; nay, I know +that, if you could, you would. Yet it may be that some day--if it be +God's will, soon--the strings that I feebly strike may sound loud and +clear, so that you must hear, however sweetly that other music charms +your senses. And if you hear, Simon, heed; if you hear, heed." + +Thus, with his blessing, I left him. He followed me to the door, with a +smile on his lips but anxiety in his eyes. I went on my way, never +looking back. For my ears were indeed filled with that strange and +enchanting music. + + + + +CHAPTER IV + +CYDARIA REVEALED + + +There, mounted on the coach at Hertford (for at last I am fairly on my +way, and may boast that I have made short work of my farewells), a +gentleman apparently about thirty years of age, tall, well-proportioned, +and with a thin face, clean-cut and high-featured. He was attended by a +servant whom he called Robert, a stout ruddy fellow, who was very jovial +with every post-boy and ostler on the road. The gentleman, being placed +next to me by the chance of our billets, lost no time in opening the +conversation, a step which my rustic backwardness would long have +delayed. He invited my confidence by a free display of his own, +informing me that he was attached to the household of Lord Arlington, +and was returning to London on his lordship's summons. For since his +patron had been called to the place of Secretary of State, he, Mr +Christopher Darrell (such was his name), was likely to be employed by +him in matters of trust, and thus fill a position which I must perceive +to be of some importance. All this was poured forth with wonderful +candour and geniality, and I, in response, opened to him my fortunes and +prospects, keeping back nothing save the mention of Cydaria. Mr Darrell +was, or affected to be, astonished to learn that I was a stranger to +London--my air smacked of the Mall and of no other spot in the world, he +swore most politely--but made haste to offer me his services, proposing +that, since Lord Arlington did not look for him that night, and he had +abandoned his former lodging, we should lodge together at an inn he +named in Covent Garden, when he could introduce me to some pleasant +company. I accepted his offer most eagerly. Then he fell to talking of +the Court, of the households of the King and the Duke, of Madame the +Duchess of Orleans, who was soon to come to England, they said (on what +business he did not know); next he spoke, although now with caution, of +persons no less well known but of less high reputation, referring +lightly to Lady Castlemaine and Eleanor Gwyn and others, while I +listened, half-scandalised, half-pleased. But I called him back by +asking whether he were acquainted with one of the Duchess's ladies named +Mistress Barbara Quinton. + +"Surely," he said. "There is no fairer lady at Court, and very few so +honest." + +I hurried to let him know that Mistress Barbara and I were old friends. +He laughed as he answered, + +"If you'd be more you must lose no time. It is impossible that she +should refuse many more suitors, and a nobleman of great estate is now +sighing for her so loudly as to be audible from Whitehall to Temple +Bar." + +I heard the news with interest, with pride, and with a touch of +jealousy; but at this time my own fortunes so engrossed me that soon I +harked back to them, and, taking my courage in both hands, was about to +ask my companion if he had chanced ever to hear of Cydaria, when he gave +a new turn to the talk, by asking carelessly, + +"You are a Churchman, sir, I suppose?" + +"Why, yes," I answered, with a smile, and perhaps a bit of a stare. +"What did you conceive me to be, sir?--a Ranter, or a Papist?" + +"Pardon, pardon, if you find offence in my question," he answered, +laughing. "There are many men who are one or the other, you know." + +"The country has learnt that to its sorrow," said I sturdily. + +"Ay," he said, in a dreamy way, "and maybe will learn it again." And +without more he fell to describing the famous regiment to which I was to +belong, adding at the end: + +"And if you like a brawl, the 'prentices in the City will always find +one for a gentleman of the King's Guards. Take a companion or two with +you when you walk east of Temple Bar. By the way, sir, if the question +may be pardoned, how came you by your commission? For we know that +merit, standing alone, stands generally naked also." + +I was much inclined to tell him all the story, but a shamefacedness came +over me. I did not know then how many owed all their advancement to a +woman's influence, and my manly pride disdained to own the obligation. I +put him off by a story of a friend who wished to remain unnamed, and, +after the feint of some indifferent talk, seized the chance of a short +silence to ask him my great question. + +"Pray, sir, have you ever heard of a lady who goes sometimes by the name +of Cydaria?" said I. I fear my cheek flushed a little, do what I could +to check such an exhibition of rawness. + +"Cydaria? Where have I heard that name? No, I know nobody--and yet----" +He paused; then, clapping his hand on his thigh, cried, "By my faith, +yes; I was sure I had heard it. It is a name from a play; from--from the +'Indian Emperor.' I think your lady must have been masquerading." + +"I thought as much," I nodded, concealing my disappointment. + +He looked at me a moment with some curiosity, but did not press me +further; and, since we had begun to draw near London, I soon had my mind +too full to allow me to think even of Cydaria. There is small profit in +describing what every man can remember for himself--his first sight of +the greatest city in the world, with its endless houses and swarming +people. It made me still and silent as we clattered along, and I forgot +my companion until I chanced to look towards him, and found an amused +glance fixed on my face. But, as we reached the City, he began to point +out where the fire had been, and how the task of rebuilding progressed. +Again wonder and anticipation grew on me. + +"Yes," said he, "it's a fine treasure-house for a man who can get the +key to it." + +Yet, amazed as I was, I would not have it supposed that I was altogether +an unlicked cub. My stay in Norwich, if it had not made me a Londoner, +had rubbed off some of the plough-mud from me, and I believe that my new +friend was not speaking wholly in idle compliment when he assured me +that I should hold my own very well. The first lesson I learnt was not +to show any wonder that I might feel, but to receive all that chanced as +though it were the most ordinary thing in the world; for this, beyond +all, is the hall-mark of your quality. Indeed, it was well that I was so +far fit to show my face, since I was to be plunged into the midst of the +stream with a suddenness which startled, although it could not displease +me. For the first beginning I was indebted to Mr Darrell, for what +followed to myself alone and a temper that has never been of the most +patient. + +We had reached our inn and refreshed ourselves, and I was standing +looking out on the evening and wondering at what time it was proper for +me to seek my bed when my friend entered with an eager air, and advanced +towards me, crying, + +"Dear sir, I hope your wardrobe is in order, for I am resolved to redeem +my word forthwith, and to-night to carry you with me to an +entertainment for which I have received an invitation. I am most anxious +for you to accompany me, as we shall meet many whom you should know." + +I was, of course, full of excuses, but he would admit of one only; and +that one I could not or would not make. For I had provided myself with a +neat and proper suit, of which I was very far from ashamed, and which, +when assumed by me and set off with a new cloak to match it, was +declared by Mr Darrell to be most apt for the occasion. + +"You lack nothing but a handsome cane," said he, "and that I can myself +provide. Come, let us call chairs and be gone, for it grows late +already." + +Our host that evening was Mr Jermyn, a gentleman in great repute at +Court, and he entertained us most handsomely at the New Spring Garden, +according to me a welcome of especial courtesy, that I might be at my +ease and feel no stranger among the company. He placed me on his left +hand, Darrell being on my other side, while opposite to me sat my lord +the Earl of Carford, a fine-looking man of thirty or a year or two +above. Among the guests Mr Darrell indicated several whose names were +known to me, such as the witty Lord Rochester and the French Ambassador, +M. de Cominges, a very stately gentleman. These, however, being at the +other end of the table, I made no acquaintance with them, and contented +myself with listening to the conversation of my neighbours, putting in a +word where I seemed able with propriety and without displaying an +ignorance of which I was very sensible. It seemed to me that Lord +Carford, to whom I had not been formally presented (indeed, all talked +to one another without ceremony) received what I said with more than +sufficient haughtiness and distance; but on Darrell whispering +humorously that he was a great lord, and held himself even greater than +he was, I made little of it, thinking my best revenge would be to give +him a lesson in courtesy. Thus all went well till we had finished eating +and sat sipping our wine. Then my Lord Carford, being a little +overheated with what he had drunk, began suddenly to inveigh against the +King with remarkable warmth and freedom, so that it seemed evident that +he smarted under some recent grievance. The raillery of our host, not +too nice or delicate, soon spurred him to a discovery of his complaint. +He asked nothing better than to be urged to a disclosure. + +"Neither rank, nor friendship, nor service," he said, smiting the table, +"are enough to gain the smallest favour from the King. All goes to the +women; they have but to ask to have. I prayed the King to give me for a +cousin of mine a place in the Life Guards that was to be vacant, and +he--by Heaven, he promised! Then comes Nell, and Nell wants it for a +friend--and Nell has it for a friend--and I go empty!" + +I had started when he spoke of the Life Guards, and sat now in a state +of great disturbance. Darrell also, as I perceived, was very uneasy, and +made a hasty effort to alter the course of the conversation; but Mr +Jermyn would not have it. + +"Who is the happy--the new happy man, that is Mistress Nell's friend?" +he asked, smiling. + +"Some clod from the country," returned the Earl; "his name, they say, is +Dale." + +I felt my heart beating, but I trust that I looked cool enough as I +leant across and said, + +"Your lordship is misinformed. I have the best of reasons for saying +so." + +"The reasons may be good, sir," he retorted with a stare, "but they are +not evident." + +"I am myself just named to a commission in the King's Life Guards, and +my name is Dale," said I, restraining myself to a show of composure, for +I felt Darrell's hand on my arm. + +"By my faith, then, you're the happy man," sneered Carford. "I +congratulate you on your----" + +"Stay, stay, Carford," interposed Mr Jermyn. + +"On your--godmother," said Carford. + +"You're misinformed, my lord," I repeated fiercely, although by now a +great fear had come upon me. I knew whom they meant by "Nell." + +"By God, sir, I'm not misinformed," said he. + +"By God, my lord," said I--though I had not been wont to swear--"By God, +my lord, you are." + +Our voices had risen in anger; a silence fell on the party, all turning +from their talk to listen to us. Carford's face went red when I gave him +the lie so directly and the more fiercely because, to my shame and +wonder, I had begun to suspect that what he said was no lie. But I +followed up the attack briskly. + +"Therefore, my lord," I said, "I will beg of you to confess your error, +and withdraw what you have said." + +He burst into a laugh. + +"If I weren't ashamed to take a favour from such a hand, I wouldn't be +ashamed to own it," said he. + +I rose from my seat and bowed to him gravely. All understood my meaning; +but he, choosing to treat me with insolence, did not rise nor return my +salute, but sat where he was, smiling scornfully. + +"You don't understand me, it seems, my lord," said I. "May be this will +quicken your wits," and I flung the napkin which had been brought to me +after meat lightly in his face. He sprang up quickly enough then, and so +did all the company. Darrell caught me by the arm and held me fast. +Jermyn was by Carford's side. I hardly knew what passed, being much +upset by the sudden quarrel, and yet more by the idea, that Carford's +words had put in my head. I saw Jermyn come forward, and Darrell, +loosing my arm, went and spoke to him. Lord Carford resumed his seat; I +leant against the back of my chair and waited. Darrell was not long in +returning to me. + +"You'd best go home," he said, in a low voice. "I'll arrange +everything. You must meet to-morrow morning." + +I nodded my head; I had grown cool and collected now. Bowing slightly to +Carford, and low to my host and the company, I turned to the door. As I +passed through it, I heard the talk break out again behind me. I got +into my chair, which was waiting, and was carried back to my inn in a +half-amazed state. I gave little thought to the quarrel or to the +meeting that awaited me. My mind was engrossed with the revelation to +which I had listened. I doubted it still; nay, I would not believe it. +Yet whence came the story unless it were true? And it seemed to fit most +aptly and most lamentably with what had befallen me, and to throw light +on what had been a puzzle. It was hard on four years since I had parted +from Cydaria; but that night I felt that, if the thing were true, I +should receive Carford's point in my heart without a pang. + +Being, as may be supposed, little inclined for sleep, I turned into the +public room of the inn and called for a bottle of wine. The room was +empty save for a lanky fellow, very plainly dressed, who sat at the +table reading a book. He was drinking nothing, and when--my wine having +been brought--I called in courtesy for a second glass and invited him to +join me, he shook his head sourly. Yet presently he closed his book, +which I now perceived to be a Bible, and fixed an earnest gaze on me. He +was a strange-looking fellow; his face was very thin and long, and his +hair (for he wore his own and no wig) hung straight from the crown of +his head in stiff wisps. I set him down as a Ranter, and was in no way +surprised when he began to inveigh against the evils of the times, and +to prophesy the judgment of God on the sins of the city. + +"Pestilence hath come and fire hath come," he cried. "Yet wickedness is +not put away, and lewdness vaunteth herself, and the long-suffering of +God is abused." + +All this seeming to me very tedious, I sipped my wine and made no +answer. I had enough to think of, and was content to let the sins of the +city alone. + +"The foul superstition of Papacy raises its head again," he went on, +"and godly men are persecuted." + +"Those same godly men," said I, "have had their turn before now, sir. To +many it seems as if they were only receiving what they gave." For the +fellow had roused me to some little temper by his wearisome cursing. + +"But the Time of the Lord is at hand," he pursued, "and all men shall +see the working of His wrath. Ay, it shall be seen even in palaces." + +"If I were you, sir," said I dryly, "I would not talk thus before +strangers. There might be danger in it." + +He scanned my face closely for a few moments; then, leaning across +towards me, he said earnestly: + +"You are young, and you look honest. Be warned in time; fight on the +Lord's side, and not among His enemies. Verily the time cometh." + +I had met many of these mad fellows, for the country was full of them, +some being disbanded soldiers of the Commonwealth, some ministers who +had lost their benefices; but this fellow seemed more crazy than any I +had seen: though, indeed, I must confess there was a full measure of +truth, if not of charity, in the description of the King's Court on +which he presently launched himself with great vigour of declamation and +an intense, although ridiculous, exhibition of piety. + +"You may be very right, sir----" + +"My name is Phineas Tate." + +"You may be very right, friend Phineas," said I, yawning; "but I can't +alter all this. Go and preach to the King." + +"The King shall be preached to in words that he must hear," he retorted +with a frown, "but the time is not yet." + +"The time now is to seek our beds," said I, smiling. "Do you lodge +here?" + +"For this night I lie here. To-morrow I preach to this city." + +"Then I fear you are likely to lie in a less comfortable place +to-morrow." And bidding him good-night, I turned to go. But he sprang +after me, crying, "Remember, the time is short"; and I doubt whether I +should have got rid of him had not Darrell at that moment entered the +room. To my surprise, the two seemed to know one another, for Darrell +broke into a scornful laugh, exclaiming: + +"Again, Master Tate! What, haven't you left this accursed city to its +fate yet?" + +"It awaits its fate," answered the Ranter sternly, "even as those of +your superstition wait theirs." + +"My superstition must look out for itself," said Darrell, with a shrug; +and, seeing that I was puzzled, he added, "Mr Tate is not pleased with +me because I am of the old religion." + +"Indeed?" I cried. "I didn't know you were a--of the old church." For I +remembered with confusion a careless remark that I had let fall as we +journeyed together. + +"Yes," said he simply. + +"Yes!" cried Tate. "You--and your master also, is he not?" + +Darrell's face grew stern and cold. + +"I would have you careful, sir, when you touch on my Lord Arlington's +name," he said. "You know well that he is not of the Roman faith, but is +a convinced adherent of the Church of this country." + +"Is he so?" asked Tate, with an undisguised sneer. + +"Come, enough!" cried Darrell in sudden anger. "I have much to say to my +friend, and shall be glad to be left alone with him." + +Tate made no objection to leaving us, and, gathering up his Bible, went +out scowling. + +"A pestilent fellow," said Darrell. "He'll find himself laid by the +heels before long. Well, I have settled your affair with my Lord +Carford." + +But my affair with Carford was not what I wanted to hear about. I came +to him as he sat down at the table, and, laying my hand on his shoulder, +asked simply, + +"Is it true?" + +He looked up at me with great kindness, and answered gently, + +"It is true. I guessed it as soon as you spoke of Cydaria. For Cydaria +was the part in which she first gained the favour of the town, and that, +taken with your description of her, gave me no room for doubt. Yet I +hoped that it might not be as I feared, or, at least, that the thing +could be hidden. It seems, though, that the saucy wench has made no +secret of it. Thus you are landed in this quarrel, and with a good +swordsman." + +"I care nothing for the quarrel----" I began. + +"Nay, but it is worse than you think. For Lord Carford is the gentleman +of whom I spoke, when I told you that Mistress Quinton had a noble +suitor. And he is high in her favour and higher yet in her father's. A +quarrel with him, and on such a cause, will do you no good in Lord +Quinton's eyes." + +Indeed, it seemed as though all the furies had combined to vex me. Yet +still my desire was to learn of Cydaria, for even now I could hardly +believe what Darrell told me. Sitting down by him, I listened while he +related to me what he knew of her; it was little more than the +mentioning of her true name told me--a name familiar, alas, through all +the country, sung in ballads, bandied to and fro in talk, dragged even +into high disputes that touched the nation's fortunes; for in those +strange days, when the world seemed a very devil's comedy, great +countries, ay, and Holy Churches, fought behind the mask of an actress's +face or chose a fair lady for their champion. I hope, indeed, that the +end sanctified the means; they had great need of that final +justification. Castlemaine and Nell Gwyn--had we not all read and heard +and gossiped of them? Our own Vicar had spoken to me of Nell, and would +not speak too harshly, for Nell was Protestant. Yes, Nell, so please +you, was Protestant. And other grave divines forgave her half her sins +because she flouted most openly and with pert wit the other lady, who +was suspected of an inclination towards Rome and an intention to charm +the King into the true Church's bosom. I also could have forgiven her +much; for, saving my good Darrell's presence, I hated a Papist worse +than any man, saving a Ranter. Yes, I would have forgiven her all, and +applauded her pretty face and laughed at her pretty ways. I had looked +to do as much when I came to town, being, I must confess, as little +straightlaced as most young men. But I had not known that the thing was +to touch me close. Could I forgive her my angry humiliation and my sore +heart, bruised love and burning ridicule? I could forgive her for being +all she now was. How could I forgive her for having been once my +Cydaria? + +"Well, you must fight," said Darrell, "although it is not a good +quarrel," and he shook my hand very kindly with a sigh of friendship. + +"Yes, I must fight," said I, "and after that--if there be an after--I +must go to Whitehall." + +"To take up your commission?" he asked. + +"To lay it down, Mr Darrell," said I with a touch of haughtiness. "You +don't think that I could bear it, since it comes from such a source?" + +He pressed my hand, saying with a smile that seemed tender, + +"You're from the country. Not one in ten would quarrel with that here." + +"Yes, I'm from the country," said I. "It was in the country that I knew +Cydaria." + + + + +CHAPTER V + +I AM FORBIDDEN TO FORGET + + +It must be allowed that by no possible union of unlucky chances could I, +desiring to appear as a staid, sober gentleman, and not as a ruffler or +debauched gallant, have had a worse introduction to my new life. To +start with a duel would have hurt me little, but a duel on such a cause +and on behalf of such a lady (for I should seem to be fighting the +battle of one whose name was past defending) would make my reputation +ridiculous to the gay, and offensive to all the more decent people of +the town. I thought enough on this sad side of the matter that night at +the inn, and despair would have made a prey of me had I not hoped to +clear myself in some degree by the step on which I had determined. For I +was resolved to abandon the aid in my career that the King's unexpected +favour had offered, and start afresh for myself, free from the illicit +advantage of a place gained undeservedly. Yet, amid my chagrin, and in +spite of my virtuous intentions, I found myself wondering that Cydaria +had remembered; I will not protest that I found no pleasure in the +thought; a young man whose pride was not touched by it would have +reached a higher summit of severity or a lower depth of insensibility +than was mine. Yet here also I made vows of renunciation, concerning +which there is nought to say but that, while very noble, they were in +all likelihood most uncalled for. What would or could Cydaria be to me +now? She flew at bigger game. She had flung me a kindly crumb of +remembrance; she would think that we were well quit; nay, that I was +overpaid for my bruised heart and dissipated illusion. + +It was a fine fresh morning when Mr Darrell and I set out for the place +of meeting, he carrying a pair of swords. Mr Jermyn had agreed to +support my opponent; and I was glad to learn that the meeting was to be +restricted to the principals, and not, as too often occurred, to embroil +the seconds also in a senseless quarrel. We walked briskly; and crossing +the Oxford Road at Holborn, struck into the fields beyond Montague +House. We were first at the rendezvous, but had not to wait long before +three chairs appeared, containing Lord Carford, his second, and a +surgeon. The chairmen, having set down their burdens, withdrew some way +off, and we, being left to ourselves, made our preparations as quickly +as we could; Darrell, especially, urging speed; for it seemed that a +rumour of the affair had got about the town, and he had no desire for +spectators. + +Although I desire to write without malice and to render fullest justice +to those whom I have least cause to love, I am bound to say that my Lord +Carford seemed to be most bitterly incensed against me, whereas I was in +no way incensed against him. In the first instance, he had offended +without premeditation, for he had not known who I was; his subsequent +insolence might find excuse in the peremptory phrasing of my demand for +apology, too curt, perhaps, for a young and untried man. Honour forced +me to fight, but nothing forced me to hate, and I asked no better than +that we should both escape with as little hurt as the laws of the game +allowed. His mood was different; he had been bearded, and was in a mind +to give my beard a pull--I speak in a metaphor, for beard had I +none--and possessing some reputation as a swordsman, he could not well +afford to let me go untouched. An old sergeant of General Cromwell's, +resident at Norwich, had instructed me in the use of the foils, but I +was not my lord's equal, and I set it down to my good luck and his fury +that I came off no worse than the event proved. For he made at me with +great impetuosity, and from beginning to end of the affair I was wholly +concerned in defending myself; this much I achieved successfully for +some moments, and I heard Mr Jermyn say, "But he stands his ground +well"; then came a cunning feint followed by a fierce attack and a sharp +pang in my left arm near the shoulder, while the sleeve of my shirt +went red in a moment. The seconds darted in between us, and Darrell +caught me round the waist. + +"I'm glad it was no worse," I whispered to him with a smile; then I +turned very sick, and the meadow started to go round and round me. For +some minutes I knew nothing more, but when I revived, the surgeon was +busy in binding up my arm, while the three gentlemen stood together in a +group a little way apart. My legs shook under me, and doubtless I was as +white as my mother's best linen, but I was well content, feeling that my +honour was safe, and that I had been as it were baptised of the company +of gentlemen. So Mr Jermyn seemed to think; for when my arm was dressed, +and I had got my clothes on again with some pain, and a silken sling +under my elbow, he came and craved the surgeon's leave to carry me off +to breakfast. The request was granted, on a promise that I would abstain +from inflaming food and from all strong liquors. Accordingly we set out, +I dissembling a certain surprise inspired in my countryman's mind by the +discovery that my late enemy proposed to be of the party. Having come to +a tavern in Drury Lane, we were regaled very pleasantly; Mr Jermyn, who +(although a small man, and not in my opinion well-shaped) might be seen +to hold himself in good esteem, recounting to us his adventures in love +and his exploits on the field of honour. Meanwhile, Lord Carford +treated me with distinguished courtesy, and I was at a loss to +understand his changed humour until it appeared that Darrell had +acquainted him with my resolution to surrender the commission that the +King had bestowed on me. As we grew more free with one another, his +lordship referred plainly to the matter, declaring that my conduct +showed the nicest honour, and praying me to allow his own surgeon to +visit me every day until my wound should be fully cured. His marked +politeness, and the friendliness of the others, put me in better humour +than I had been since the discovery of the evening before, and when our +meal was ended, about eleven o'clock, I was well-nigh reconciled to life +again. Yet it was not long before Carford and I were again good enemies, +and crossed swords with no less zest, although on a different field. + +I had been advised by Darrell to return at once to my inn, and there +rest quietly until evening, leaving my journey to Whitehall for the next +day, lest too much exertion should induce a fever in me; and in +obedience to his counsel I began to walk gently along Drury Lane on my +way back to Covent Garden. My Lord Carford and Mr Jermyn had gone off to +a cock-fight, where the King was to be, while Darrell had to wait upon +the Secretary at his offices; therefore I was alone, and, going easily, +found fully enough to occupy my attention in the business and incredible +stir of the town. I thought then, and think still, that nowhere in the +world is there such a place for an idle man as London; where else has he +spread for him so continual a banquet of contemplation, where else are +such comedies played every hour for his eyes' delight? It is well enough +to look at a running river, or to gaze at such mighty mountains as I saw +when I journeyed many years later into Italy; but the mountain moves +not, and the stream runs always with the same motion and in its wonted +channel. Give me these for my age, but to a young man a great city is +queen of all. + +So I was thinking as I walked along; or so I think now that I must have +thought; for in writing of his youth it is hard for a man to be sure +that he does not transfer to that golden page some of the paler +characters which later years print on his mind. Perhaps I thought of +nothing at all, save that this man here was a fine fellow, that girl +there a pretty wench, that my coat became me well, and my wounded arm +gave me an interesting air. Be my meditations what they might, they were +suddenly interrupted by the sight of a crowd in the Lane near to the +Cock and Pie tavern. Here fifty or sixty men and women, decent folk +some, others porters, flower-girls, and such like, were gathered in a +circle round a man who was pouring out an oration or sermon with great +zeal and vehemence. Having drawn nearer, I paused out of a curiosity +which turned to amusement when I discovered in the preacher my good +friend Phineas Tate, with whom I had talked the evening before. It +seemed that he had set about his task without delay, and if London were +still unmindful of its sins, the fault was not to lie at Mr Tate's door. +On he plunged, sparing neither great nor small; if the Court were +sinful, so was Drury Lane; if Castlemaine (he dealt freely in names, and +most sparingly in titles of courtesy) were what he roundly said she was, +which of the women about him was not the same? How did they differ from +their betters, unless it were that their price was not so high, and in +what, save audacity, were they behind Eleanor Gwyn? He hurled this last +name forth as though it marked a climax of iniquity, and a start ran +through me as I heard it thus treated. Strange to say, something of the +same effect seemed to be produced on his other hearers. Hitherto they +had listened with good-natured tolerance, winking at one another, +laughing when the preacher's finger pointed at a neighbour, shrugging +comfortable shoulders when it turned against themselves. They are +long-suffering under abuse, the folk of London; you may say much what +you will, provided you allow them to do what they will, and they support +the imputation of unrighteousness with marvellous composure, as long as +no man takes it in hand to force them to righteousness. As they are now, +they were then, though many changes have passed over the country and +the times; so will they be, although more transformations come. + +But, as I say, this last name stirred the group to a new mood. Friend +Phineas perceived the effect that he had made, but set a wrong meaning +on it. Taking it as a ground for encouragement, he loosed his tongue yet +more outrageously, and so battered the unhappy subject of his censures +that my ears tingled, and suddenly I strode quickly up to the group, +intent on silencing him; but a great brawny porter, with a dirty red +face, was beforehand with me. Elbowing his way irresistibly through the +ranks, he set himself squarely before Phineas, and, wagging his head +significantly enough, growled out: + +"Say what you will of Castlemaine and the rest, Master Ranter, but keep +your tongue off Nelly." + +A murmur of applause ran round. They knew Nelly: here in the Lane was +her kingdom. + +"Let Nelly alone," said the porter, "if you value whole bones, master." + +Phineas was no coward, and threats served only to fan the flame of his +zeal. I had started to stop his mouth; it seemed likely that I must +employ myself in saving his head. His lean frame would crack and break +in the grasp of his mighty assailant, and I was loth that the fool +should come to harm; so I began to push my way through towards the pair, +and arrived just as Phineas, having shot a most pointed dart, was about +to pay for his too great skill with a blow from the porter's +mutton-fist. I caught the fellow's arm as he raised it, and he turned +fiercely on me, growling, "Are you his friend, then?" + +"Not I," I answered. "But you'd kill him, man." + +"Let him heed what he says, then. Kill him! Ay, and spare him readily!" + +The affair looked awkward enough, for the feeling was all one way, and I +could do little to hinder any violence. A girl in the crowd reminded me +of my helplessness, touching my wounded arm lightly, and saying, "Are +you hungry for more fighting, sir?" + +"He's a madman," said I. "Let him alone; who heeds what he says?" + +Friend Phineas did not take my defence in good part. + +"Mad, am I?" he roared, beating with his fist on his Bible. "You'll know +who was mad when you lie howling in hell fire. And with you that----" +And on he went again at poor Nell. + +The great porter could endure no more. With a seemingly gentle motion of +his hand he thrust me aside, pushing me on to the bosom of a buxom +flower-girl who, laughing boisterously, wound a pair of sturdy red arms +round me. Then he stepped forward, and seizing Phineas by the scruff of +the neck shook him as a dog shakes a rat. To what more violence he would +have proceeded I do not know; for suddenly from above us, out of a +window of the Cock and Pie, came a voice which sent a stir through my +veins. + +"Good people, good people," said the voice, "what with preaching and +brawling, a body can get no sleep in the Lane. Pray go and work, or if +you've no work, go and drink. Here are the means." And a shower of small +coins came flying down on our heads, causing an immediate wild scramble. +My flower-girl loosed me that she might take her part in this fray; the +porter stood motionless, still holding poor Phineas, limp and lank, in +his hand; and I turned my eyes upwards to the window of the Cock and +Pie. + +I looked up, and I saw her. Her sunny brown hair was about her +shoulders, her knuckles rubbed her sleepy eyes to brightness, and a +loose white bodice, none too high nor too carefully buttoned about the +neck, showed that her dressing was not done. Indeed, she made a pretty +picture, as she leant out, laughing softly, and now shading her face +from the sun with one hand, while she raised the other in mocking +reproof of the preacher. + +"Fie, sir, fie," she said. "Why fall on a poor girl who earns an honest +living, gives to the needy, and is withal a good Protestant?" Then she +called to the porter, "Let him go with what life you've left in him. Let +him go." + +"You heard what he said of you----" began the fellow sullenly. + +"Ay, I hear what everybody says of me," she answered carelessly. "Let +him go." + +The porter sulkily released his prey, and Phineas, set free, began to +gasp and shake himself. Another coin whistled down to the porter, who, +picking it up, shambled off with a last oath of warning to his enemy. +Then, and then only, did she look at me, who had never ceased to look at +her. When she saw me, her smile grew broader, and her eyes twinkled in +surprise and delight. + +"A happy morning!" she said, clasping her little hands. "Ah, a happy +morning! Why, 'tis Simon, my Simon, my little Simon from the country. +Come up to me, Simon. No, no, your pardon; I'll come down to you, Simon. +In the parlour, in the parlour. Quick! I'll be down in an instant." + +The vision vanished, but my gaze dwelt on the window where it had been, +and I needed Phineas Tate's harsh voice to rouse me from my stupor. + +"Who is the woman?" he demanded. + +"Why--why--Mistress Gwyn herself," I stammered. + +"Herself--the woman, herself?" he asked eagerly. Then he suddenly drew +himself up and, baring his head, said solemnly, "Thanks be to God, +thanks be to God, for it may be His will that this brand should be +plucked from the burning." And before I could speak or attempt to hinder +him he stepped swiftly across the pathway and entered the tavern. I, +seeing nothing else that I could do, followed him straightway and as +fast as I could. + +I was in a maze of feeling. The night before I had reasoned with myself +and schooled my wayward passion to a resolve neither to see nor to speak +with her. Resentment at the shame she had brought on me aided my +stubbornness, and helped me to forget that I had been shamed because she +had remembered me. But now I followed Phineas Tate. For be memory ever +so keen and clear, yes, though it seem able to bring every feature, +every shade, and every pose before a man's eyes in absolute fidelity, +yet how poor and weak a thing it is beside the vivid sight of bodily +eyes; that paints the faded picture all afresh in hot and glowing +colours, and the man who bade defiance to the persuasions of his +recollection falls beaten down by the fierce force of a present vision. +I followed Phineas Tate, perhaps using some excuse with myself--indeed, +I feared that he would attack her rudely and be cruelly plain with +her--yet knowing in my heart that I went because I could do nothing +else, and that when she called, every atom of life in me answered to her +summons. So in I went, to find Phineas standing bolt upright in the +parlour of the tavern, turning the leaves of his book with eager +fingers, as though he sought some text that was in his mind. I passed by +him and leant against the wall by the window; so we awaited her, each +of us eager, but with passions most unlike. + +She came, daintily dressed now, although still negligently. She put her +head round the corner of the door, radiant with smiles, and with no more +shame or embarrassment than if our meeting in this way were the most +ordinary thing. Then she caught sight of Phineas Tate and cried, +pouting, "But I wanted to be alone with my Simon, my dear Simon." + +Phineas caught the clue her words gave him with perverse readiness. + +"Alone with him, yes!" he cried. "But what of the time when you must be +alone with God?" + +"Alas," said she, coming in, and seating herself at the table, "is there +more still? Indeed, I thought you had said all your say outside. I am +very wicked; let that end it." + +He advanced to the table and stood directly opposite to her, stretching +his arm towards her, while she sat with her chin on her hands, watching +him with eyes half-amused, half-apprehensive. + +"You who live in open sin----" he began; before he could say more I was +by his elbow. + +"Hold your tongue," I said. "What is it to you?" + +"Let him go on, Simon," said she. + +And go on he did, telling all--as I prayed, more than all--the truth, +while she heard him patiently. Yet now and then she gave herself a +little shake, as though to get rid of something that threatened to +stick. Then he fell on his knees and prayed fervently, she still sitting +quiet and I standing awkwardly near. He finished his prayer, and, rising +again, looked earnestly at her. Her eyes met his in good nature, almost +in friendliness. He stretched out his hand to her again, saying, + +"Child, cannot you understand? Alas, your heart is hardened! I pray +Christ our Lord to open your eyes and change your heart, that at the +last your soul may be saved." + +Nelly examined the pink nails of her right hand with curious attention. + +"I don't know that I'm more of a sinner than many others," said she. "Go +to Court and preach, sir." + +A sudden fury seemed to come over him, and he lost the gentleness with +which he had last addressed her. + +"The Word shall be heard at the Court," he cried, "in louder accents +than mine. Their cup is full, the measure of their iniquity is pressed +down and running over. All who live shall see." + +"Like enough," said Nell, as though the matter were grown very tedious, +and she yawned just a little; but, as she glanced at me, a merry light +gleamed in her eyes. "And what is to befall Simon here?" she asked. + +He turned on me with a start, seeming to have forgotten my presence. + +"This young man?" he asked, looking full in my face. "Why, his face is +honest; if he choose his friends well, he may do well." + +"I am of his friends," said Nell, and I defy any man on earth to have +given the lie to such a claim so made. + +"And for you, may the Lord soften your heart," said Phineas to her. + +"Some say it's too soft already," said Nell. + +"You will see me again," said he to her, and moved towards the door. But +once more he faced me before he went, and looked very intently at me. +Then he passed out, leaving us alone. + +At his going Nell sighed for relief, stretched out her arms, and let +them fall on the table in front of her; then she sprang up and ran to +me, catching hold of my hands. + +"And how goes all at pretty Hatchstead?" she asked. + +I drew back, releasing my hands from hers, and I spoke to her stiffly. + +"Madame," said I, "this is not Hatchstead, nor do you seem the lady whom +I knew at Hatchstead." + +"Indeed, you seem very like the gentleman I knew, and knew well, there," +she retorted. + +"And you, very unlike the lady." + +"Nay, not so unlike as you think. But are you also going to preach to +me?" + +"Madame," said I in cold courtesy, "I have to thank you for a good +remembrance of me, and for your kindness in doing me a service; I assure +you I prize it none the less, because I may not accept it." + +"You may not accept it?" she cried. "What? You may not accept the +commission?" + +"No, madame," said I, bowing low. + +Her face was like a pretty child's in disappointment. + +"And your arm? How come you to be wounded? Have you been quarrelling +already?" + +"Already, madame." + +"But with whom, and why?" + +"With my Lord Carford. The reason I need not weary you with." + +"But I desire to know it." + +"Because my lord said that Mistress Gwyn had obtained me my commission." + +"But it was true." + +"Doubtless; yet I fought." + +"Why, if it were true?" + +I made her no answer. She went and seated herself again at the table, +looking up at me with eyes in which I seemed to read pain and puzzle. + +"I thought it would please you, Simon," she said, with a coaxing glance +that at least feigned timidity. + +"Never have I been so proud as on the day I received it," said I; "and +never, I think, so happy, unless, may be, when you and I walked in the +Manor park." + +"Nay, Simon, but you will be glad to have it, even though I obtained it +for you." + +"I shall not have it. I go to Whitehall to-morrow to surrender it." + +She sprang up in wonder, and anger also showed in her eyes. + +"To surrender it? You mean in truth to surrender it? And because it came +from me?" + +Again I could do nothing but bow. That I did with the best air I could +muster, although I had no love for my part in this scene. Alas for a man +who, being with her, must spend his time in chiding! + +"Well, I wish I hadn't remembered you," she said resentfully. + +"Indeed, madame, I also wish that I had forgotten." + +"You have, or you would never use me so." + +"It is my memory that makes me rough, madame. Indeed, how should I have +forgotten?" + +"You hadn't?" she asked, advancing nearer to me. "No, in truth I believe +you hadn't! And, Simon, listen!" Now she stood with her face but a yard +from mine, and again her lips were curved with mirth and malice. +"Listen, Simon," she said, "you had not forgotten; and you shall not +forget." + +"It is very likely," said I simply; and I took up my hat from the table. + +"How fares Mistress Barbara?" asked Nell suddenly. + +"I have not waited on her," I answered. + +"Then indeed I am honoured, although our meeting was somewhat by chance. +Ah, Simon, I want to be so angry with you. But how can I be angry? I can +never be angry. Why" (and here she came even a little closer, and now +she was smiling most damnably--nay, I mean most delightfully; but it is +often much the same), "I was not very angry even when you kissed me, +Simon." + +It is not for me to say what answer to that speech she looked to +receive. Mine was no more than a repetition of my bow. + +"You'll keep the commission, Simon?" she whispered, standing on tiptoe, +as though she would reach my ear. + +"I can't," said I, bowing no more, and losing, I fear, the air of grave +composure that I had striven to maintain. I saw what seemed a light of +triumph in her eyes. Yet that mood passed quickly from her. She grew +pensive and drew away from me. I stepped towards the door, but a hand +laid on my arm arrested me. + +"Simon," she asked, "have you sweet memories of Hatchstead?" + +"God forgive me," said I confusedly, "sweeter than my hopes of heaven." + +She looked at me gravely for an instant. Then, sighing, she said, + +"Then I wish you had not come to town, but stayed there with your +memories. They were of me?" + +"Of Cydaria." + +"Ah, of Cydaria," she echoed, with a little smile. + +But a moment later the full merriment of laughter broke out again on her +face, and, drawing her hand away, she let me go, crying after me, + +"But you shall not forget, Simon. No, you shall not forget." + +There I left her, standing in the doorway of the inn, daring me to +forget. And my brain seemed all whirling and swirling as I walked down +the Lane. + + + + +CHAPTER VI + +AN INVITATION TO COURT + + +I spent the rest of that day in my inn, agreeably to the advice of the +surgeon, and the next morning, finding my wound healing well, and my +body free from fever, I removed to Mr Darrell's new lodging by the +Temple, where he had most civilly placed two rooms at my disposal. Here +also I provided myself with a servant, a fellow named Jonah Wall, and +prepared to go to Whitehall as the King's letter commanded me. Of Mr +Darrell I saw nothing; he went off before I came, having left for me +with Robert, his servant, a message that he was much engaged with the +Secretary's business, and prayed to be excused from affording me his +company. Yet I was saved from making my journey alone--a thing that +would have occasioned me much trepidation--by the arrival of my Lord +Quinton. The reverence of our tender years is hard to break down, and I +received my visitor with an uneasiness which was not decreased by the +severity of his questions concerning my doings. I made haste to tell him +that I had determined to resign the commission bestowed on me. These +tidings so transformed his temper that he passed from cold reproof to an +excess of cordiality, being pleased to praise highly a scruple as +honourable as (he added with a shrug) it was rare, and he began to laugh +at himself as he recounted humorously how his wrath against me had grown +higher and higher with each thing that had come to his ears. Eager now +to make amends, he offered to go with me to Whitehall, proposing that we +should ride in his coach to the Mall, and walk thence together. I +accepted his company most gratefully, since it would save me from +betraying an ignorance of which I was ashamed, and strengthen my courage +for the task before me. Accordingly we set out, and as we went my lord +took occasion to refer to my acquaintance with Mistress Nell, suggesting +plainly enough, although not directly, that I should be wise to abandon +her society at the same time that I laid down the commission she had +obtained for me. I did not question his judgment, but avoided giving any +promise to be guided by it. Perceiving that I was not willing to be +pressed, he passed from the topic with a sigh, and began to discourse on +the state of the kingdom. Had I paid more heed to what he said I might +have avoided certain troubles into which I fell afterwards, but, busy +staring about me, I gave him only such attention as courtesy required, +and not enough for a proper understanding of his uneasiness at the +dealings of our Court with the French King and the visit of the King's +sister, Madame d'Orleans, of which the town was full. For my lord, +although a most loyal gentleman, hated both the French and the Papists, +and was much grieved at the King's apparent inclination in their favour. +So he talked, I nodding and assenting to all, but wondering when he +would bid me wait on my lady, and whether Mistress Barbara was glad that +my Lord Carford's sword had passed through my arm only and done no +greater hurt. + +Thus we came to the Mall, and having left the coach, set out to walk +slowly, my lord having his arm through mine. I was very glad to be seen +thus in his company, for, although not so great a man here as at +Hatchstead, he had no small reputation, and carried himself with a noble +air. When we had gone some little way, being very comfortable with one +another, and speaking now of lighter matters, I perceived at some +distance a party of gentlemen, three in number; they were accompanied by +a little boy very richly dressed, and were followed at a short interval +by five or six more gentlemen, among whom I recognised immediately my +friend Darrell. It seemed then that the Secretary's business could be +transacted in leisurely fashion! As the first group passed along, I +observed that the bystanders uncovered, but I had hardly needed this +sign to tell me that the King was of the party. I was familiar with his +features, but he seemed to me even a more swarthy man than all the +descriptions of his blackness had led me to expect. He bore himself +with a very easy air, yet was not wanting in dignity, and being +attracted by him I fell to studying his appearance with such interest +that I came near to forgetting to remove my hat. Presently he seemed to +observe us; he smiled, and beckoned with his hand to my lord, who went +forward alone, leaving me still watching the King and his companions. + +I had little difficulty in recognising the name of one; the fine figure, +haughty manner, and magnificent attire showed him to be the famous Duke +of Buckingham, whose pride lay in seeming more of a King than the King +himself. While my lord spoke with the King, this nobleman jested with +the little boy, who answered with readiness and vivacity. As to the last +member of the group (whom the Duke seemed to treat with some neglect) I +was at a loss. His features were not distinguished except by a perfect +composure and self-possession, but his bearing was very courtly and +graceful. He wore a slight, pleasant, yet rather rigid smile, and his +attitude was as though he listened to what his master said with even +excessive deference and urbanity. His face was marked, and to my +thinking much disfigured, by a patch or plaster worn across the nose, as +though to hide some wound or scar. + +After a few minutes, during which I waited very uneasily, my lord turned +and signed to me to approach. I obeyed, hat in hand, and in a condition +of great apprehension. To be presented to the King was an honour +disquieting enough; what if my lord had told His Majesty that I declined +to bear his commission through a disapproval of his reasons for granting +me the favour? But when I came near I fell into the liveliest fear that +my lord had done this very thing; for the King was smiling +contemptuously, Buckingham laughing openly, and the gentleman with the +plaster regarding me with a great and very apparent curiosity. My lord, +meanwhile, wore a propitiatory but doubtful air, as though he prayed but +hardly hoped a gracious reception for me. Thus we all stood a moment in +complete silence, I invoking an earthquake or any convulsion of nature +that should rescue me from my embarrassment. Certainly the King did not +hasten to do me this kindly service. He grew grave and seemed +displeased, nay, he frowned most distinctly, but then he smiled, yet +more as though he must than because he would. I do not know how the +thing would have ended if the Duke of Buckingham had not burst out +laughing again, at which the King could not restrain himself, but began +to laugh also, although still not as though he found the jest altogether +to his liking. + +"So, sir," said the King, composing his features as he addressed me, +"you are not desirous of bearing my commission and fighting my enemies +for me?" + +"I would fight for your Majesty to the death," said I timidly, but with +fervour. + +"Yet you are on the way to ask leave to resign your commission. Why, +sir?" + +I could not answer; it was impossible to state my reason to him. + +"The utility of a woman's help," observed the King, "was apparent very +early in the world's history. Even Adam was glad of it." + +"She was his wife, Sir," interposed the Duke. + +"I have never read of the ceremony," said the King. "But if she were, +what difference?" + +"Why, it makes a great deal of difference in many ways, Sir," laughed +Buckingham, and he glanced with a significance which I did not +understand at the boy who was waiting near with a weary look on his +pretty face. + +The King laughed carelessly and called, "Charles, come hither." + +Then I knew that the boy must be the King's son, afterwards known as +Earl of Plymouth, and found the meaning of the Duke's glance. + +"Charles, what think you of women?" the King asked. + +The pretty child thought for a moment, then answered, looking up, + +"They are very tiresome creatures, Sir." + +"Why, so they are, Charles," said the King gravely. + +"They will never let a thing alone, Sir." + +"No, they won't, Charles, nor a man either." + +"It's first this, Sir, then that--a string, or a garter, or a bow." + +"Yes, Charles; or a title, or a purse, or a commission," said the King. +"Shall we have no more to do with them?" + +"I would desire no more at all, Sir," cried the boy. + +"It appears, Mr Dale," said the King, turning to me, "that Charles here, +and you, and I, are all of one mind on the matter of women. Had Heaven +been on our side, there would have been none of them in the world." + +He seemed to be examining me now with some degree of attention, although +I made, I fear, a very poor figure. Lord Quinton came to my rescue, and +began to enlarge on my devotion to His Majesty's person and my eagerness +to serve him in any way I might, apart from the scruple which he had +ventured to disclose to the King. + +"Mr Dale says none of these fine things for himself," remarked the King. + +"It is not always those that say most who do most, Sir," pleaded my +lord. + +"Therefore this young gentleman who says nothing will do everything?" +The King turned to his companion who wore the plaster, and had as yet +not spoken at all. "My Lord Arlington," said he, "it seems that I must +release Mr Dale." + +"I think so, Sir," answered Arlington, on whom I looked with much +curiosity, since he was Darrell's patron. + +"I cannot have servants who do not love me," pursued the King. + +"Nor subjects," added Buckingham, with a malicious smile. + +"Although I am not, unhappily, so free in the choice of my Ministers," +said the King. Then he faced round on me and addressed me in a cold +tone: + +"I am reluctant, sir, to set down your conduct to any want of affection +or loyalty towards me. I shall be glad if you can show me that my +forbearance is right." With this he bent his head slightly, and moved +on. I bowed very low, shame and confusion so choking me that I had not a +word to say. Indeed, I seemed damned beyond redemption, so far as my +fortunes depended on obtaining the King's favour. + +Again I was left to myself, for the King, anxious, as I took it, to show +that his displeasure extended to me only, had stopped again to speak +with my lord. But in a moment, to my surprise, Arlington was at my side. + +"Come, sir," said he very genially, "there's no need of despair. The +King is a little vexed, but his resentment is not obstinate; and let me +tell you that he has been very anxious to see you." + +"The King anxious to see me?" I cried. + +"Why, yes. He has heard much of you." His lips twitched as he glanced at +me. I had the discretion to ask no further explanation, and in a moment +he grew grave again, continuing, "I also am glad to meet with you, for +my good friend Darrell has sounded your praises to me. Sir, there are +many ways of serving the King." + +"I should rejoice with all my heart to find one of them, my lord," I +answered. + +"I may find you one, if you are willing to take it." + +"I should be your lordship's most humble and grateful servant." + +"Tut, if I gave, I should ask in return," said he. And he added +suddenly, "You're a good Churchman, I suppose, Mr Dale?" + +"Why, yes, my lord; I and all my family." + +"Good, good. In these days our Church has many enemies. It is threatened +on more than one side." + +I contented myself with bowing; when the Secretary spoke to me on such +high matters, it was for me to listen, and not to bandy opinions with +him. + +"Yes, we are much threatened," said he. "Well, Mr Dale, I shall trust +that we may have other meetings. You are to be found at Mr Darrell's +lodging? You may look to hear from me, sir." He moved away, cutting +short my thanks with a polite wave of his hand. + +Suddenly to my amazement the King turned round and called to me: + +"Mr Dale, there is a play to be acted at my house to-morrow evening. +Pray give me the pleasure of your company." + +I bowed almost to the ground, scarcely able to believe my ears. + +"And we'll try," said the King, raising his voice so that not only we +who were close to him but the gentlemen behind also must hear, "to find +an ugly woman and an honest man, between whom we may place you. The +first should not be difficult to come on, but the second, I fear, is +well-nigh impossible, unless another stranger should come to Court. +Good-day to you, Mr Dale." And away he went, smiling very happily and +holding the boy's hand in his. + +The King's immediate party was no sooner gone than Darrell ran up to me +eagerly, and before my lord could rejoin me, crying: + +"What did he say to you?" + +"The King? Why, he said----" + +"No, no. What did my lord say?" He pointed to Arlington, who was walking +off with the King. + +"He asked whether I were a good Churchman, and told me that I should +hear from him. But if he is so solicitous about the Church, how does he +endure your religion?" + +Darrell had no time to answer, for Lord Quinton's grave voice struck in. + +"He is a wise man who can answer a question touching my Lord Arlington's +opinion of the Church," said he. + +Darrell flushed red, and turned angrily on the interrupter. + +"You have no cause, my lord," he cried, "to attack the Secretary's +churchmanship." + +"Then you have no cause, sir," retorted Quinton, "to defend it with so +much temper. Come, let me be. I have said as much to the Secretary's +face, and he bore it with more patience than you can muster on his +behalf." + +By this time I was in some distress to see my old friend and my new at +such variance, and the more as I could not understand the ground of +their difference; the Secretary's suspected leaning towards the Popish +religion had not reached our ears in the country. But Darrell, as though +he did not wish to dispute further with a man his superior in rank and +age, drew off with a bow to my lord and a kindly nod to me, and rejoined +the other gentlemen in attendance on the King and his party. + +"You came off well with the King, Simon," said my lord, taking my arm +again. "You made him laugh, and he counts no man his enemy who will do +him that service. But what did Arlington say to you?" + +When I repeated the Secretary's words, he grew grave, but he patted my +arm in a friendly fashion, saying, + +"You've shown wisdom and honour in this first matter, lad. I must trust +you in others. Yet there are many who have no faith in my Lord +Arlington, as Englishman or Churchman either." + +"But," cried I, "does not Lord Arlington do as the King bids him?" + +My lord looked full in my face, and answered steadily, + +"I think he does, Simon." But then, as though he had said enough, or +even too much, he went on: "Come, you needn't grow too old or too +prudent all at once. Since you have seen the King, your business at +Whitehall will wait. Let us turn back to the coach and be driven to my +house, for, besides my lady, Barbara is there to-day on leave from her +attendance, and she will be glad to renew her acquaintance with you." + +It was my experience as a young man, and, perchance, other young men may +have found the like, that whatsoever apprehensions or embarrassments +might be entailed by meeting a comely damsel, and however greatly her +displeasure and scorn were to be dreaded, yet the meeting was not +forgone, all perils being taken rather than that certain calamity. +Therefore I went with my lord to his handsome house in Southampton +Square, and found myself kissing my lady's hand before I was resolved on +how I should treat Mistress Barbara, or on the more weighty question of +how I might look to be treated by her. + +I had not to wait long for the test. After a few moments of my lady's +amiable and kindly conversation, Barbara entered from the room behind, +and with her Lord Carford. He wore a disturbed air, which his affected +composure could not wholly conceal; her cheek was flushed, and she +seemed vexed; but I did not notice these things so much as the change +which had been wrought in her by the last four years. She had become a +very beautiful woman, ornamented with a high-bred grace and exquisite +haughtiness, tall and slim, carrying herself with a delicate dignity. +She gave me her hand to kiss, carelessly enough, and rather as though +she acknowledged an old acquaintance than found any pleasure in its +renewal. But she was gentle to me, and I detected in her manner a subtle +indication that, although she knew all, yet she pitied rather than +blamed; was not Simon very young and ignorant, and did not all the world +know how easily even honest young men might be beguiled by cunning +women? An old friend must not turn her back on account of a folly, +distasteful as it might be to her to be reminded of such matters. + +My lord, I think, read his daughter very well, and, being determined to +afford me an opportunity to make my peace, engaged Lord Carford in +conversation, and bade her lead me into the room behind to see the +picture that Lely had lately painted of her. She obeyed; and, having +brought me to where it hung, listened patiently to my remarks on it, +which I tried to shape into compliments that should be pleasing and yet +not gross. Then, taking courage, I ventured to assure her that I fell +out with Lord Carford in sheer ignorance that he was a friend of her +family, and would have borne anything at his hands had I known it. She +smiled, answering, + +"But you did him no harm," and she glanced at my arm in its sling. + +She had not troubled herself to ask how it did, and I, a little nettled +at her neglect, said: + +"Nay, all ended well. I alone was hurt, and the great lord came off +safe." + +"Since the great lord was in the right," said she, "we should all +rejoice at that. Are you satisfied with your examination of the picture, +Mr Dale?" + +I was not to be turned aside so easily. + +"If you hold me to have been wrong, then I have done what I could to put +myself in the right since," said I, not doubting that she knew of my +surrender of the commission. + +"I don't understand," said she, with a quick glance. "What have you +done?" + +In wonder that she had not been informed, I cried, + +"I have obtained the King's leave to decline his favour." + +The colour which had been on her cheeks when she first entered had gone +before now, but at my words it returned a little. + +"Didn't my lord tell you?" I asked. + +"I haven't seen him alone this week past," she answered. + +But she had seen Carford alone, and that in the last hour past. It was +strange that he, who had known my intention and commended it so highly, +should not have touched on it. I looked in her eyes; I think she +followed my thoughts, for she glanced aside, and said in visible +embarrassment, + +"Shall we return?" + +"You haven't spoken on the matter with my Lord Carford, then?" I asked. + +She hesitated a moment, then answered as though she did not love the +truth but must tell it, + +"Yes; but he said nothing of this. Tell me of it." + +So I told her in simple and few words what I had done. + +"Lord Carford said nothing of it," she said, when I ended. Then she +added, "But although you will not accept the favour, you have rendered +thanks for it?" + +"I couldn't find my tongue when I was with the King," I answered with a +shamefaced laugh. + +"I didn't mean to the King," said Barbara. + +It was my turn to colour now; I had not been long enough in town to lose +the trick. + +"I have seen her," I murmured. + +Barbara suddenly made me a curtsey, saying bitterly, + +"I wish you joy, sir, of your acquaintance." + +When a man is alone with a beautiful lady, he is apt not to love an +intruder; yet on my soul I was glad to see Carford in the doorway. He +came towards us, but before he could speak Barbara cried to him, + +"My lord, Mr Dale tells me news that will interest you." + +"Indeed, madame, and what?" + +"Why, that he has begged the King's leave to resign his commission. +Doesn't it surprise you?" + +He looked at her, at me, and again at her. He was caught, for I knew +that he had been fully acquainted with my purpose. He gathered himself +together to answer her. + +"Nay, I knew," he said, "and had ventured to applaud Mr Dale's +resolution. But it did not come into my mind to speak of it." + +"Strange," said she, "when we were deploring that Mr Dale should obtain +his commission by such means!" + +She rested her eyes on him steadily, while her lips were set in a +scornful smile. A pause followed her words. + +"I daresay I should have mentioned it, had we not passed to another +topic," said he at last and sullenly enough. Then, attempting a change +in tone, he added, "Won't you rejoin us?" + +"I am very well here," she said. + +He waited a moment, then bowed, and left us. He was frowning heavily, +and, as I judged, would have greeted another quarrel with me very +gladly, had I been minded to give him an opportunity; but thinking it +fair that I should be cured from the first encounter before I faced a +second, I held my peace till he was gone; then I said to Barbara, + +"I wonder he didn't tell you." + +Alas for my presumption! The anger that had been diverted on to +Carford's head swept back to mine. + +"Indeed, why should he?" she cried. "All the world can't be always +thinking of you and your affairs, Mr Dale." + +"Yet you were vexed because he hadn't." + +"I vexed! Not I!" said Barbara haughtily. + +I could not make that out; she had seemed angry with him. But because I +spoke of her anger, she was angry now with me. Indeed I began to think +that little Charles, the King, and I had been right in that opinion in +which the King found us so much of a mind. Suddenly Barbara spoke. + +"Tell me what she is like, this friend of yours," she said. "I have +never seen her." + +It leapt to my lips to cry, "Ay, you have seen her!" but I did not give +utterance to the words. Barbara had seen her in the park at Hatchstead, +seen her more than once, and more than once found sore offence in what +she saw. There is wisdom in silence; I was learning that safety might +lie in deceit. The anger under which I had suffered would be doubled if +she knew that Cydaria was Nell and Nell Cydaria. Why should she know? +Why should my own mouth betray me and add my bygone sins to the offences +of to-day? My lord had not told her that Nell was Cydaria. Should I +speak where my lord was silent? Neither would I tell her of Cydaria. + +"You haven't seen her?" I asked. + +"No; and I would learn what she is like." + +It was a strange thing to command me, yet Barbara's desire joined with +my own thoughts to urge me to it. I began tamely enough, with a stiff +list of features and catalogue of colours. But as I talked recollection +warmed my voice; and when Barbara's lips curled scornfully, as though +she would say, "What is there in this to make men fools? There is +nothing in all this," I grew more vehement and painted the picture with +all my skill. What malice began, my ardour perfected, until, engrossed +in my fancy, I came near to forgetting that I had a listener, and ended +with a start as I found Barbara's eyes fixed on mine, while she stood +motionless before me. My exultation vanished, and confusion drove away +my passion. + +"You bade me describe her," said I lamely. "I do not know whether others +see as I do, but such is she to my eyes." + +A silence followed. Barbara's face was not flushed now, but rather +seemed paler than it was wont to be. I could not tell how it was, but I +knew that I had wounded her. Is not beauty jealous, and who but a clod +will lavish praise on one fair face while another is before him? I +should have done better to play the hypocrite and swear that my folly, +not Nell's features, was to blame. But now I was stubborn and would +recall not a word of all my raptures. Yet I was glad that I had not told +her who Cydaria was. + +The silence was short. In an instant Barbara gave a little laugh, +saying, + +"Small wonder you were caught, poor Simon! Yes, the creature must be +handsome enough. Shall we return to my mother?" + +On that day she spoke no more with me. + + + + +CHAPTER VII + +WHAT CAME OF HONESTY + + +I should sin against the truth and thereby rob this my story of its +solitary virtue were I to pretend that my troubles and perplexities, +severe as they seemed, outweighed the pleasure and new excitement of my +life. Ambition was in my head, youth in my veins, my eyes looked out on +a gay world with a regard none too austere. Against these things even +love's might can wage but an equal battle. For the moment, I must +confess, my going to Court, with the prospect it opened and the chances +it held, dominated my mind, and Jonah Wall, my servant, was kept busy in +preparing me for the great event. I had made a discovery concerning this +fellow which afforded me much amusement: coming on him suddenly, I found +him deeply engaged on a Puritan Psalm-book, sighing and casting up his +eyes to heaven in a ludicrous excess of glum-faced piety. I pressed him +hard and merrily, when it appeared that he was as thorough a Ranter as +my friend Phineas himself, and held the Court and all in it to be +utterly given over to Satan, an opinion not without some warrant, had +he observed any moderation in advancing it. Not wishing to harm him, I +kept my knowledge to myself, but found a malicious sport in setting him +to supply me with all the varieties of raiment, perfumes, and other +gauds--that last was his word, not mine--which he abhorred, but which Mr +Simon Dale's new-born desire for fashion made imperative, however little +Mr Simon Dale's purse could properly afford the expense of them. The +truth is that Mistress Barbara's behaviour spurred me on. I had no mind +to be set down a rustic; I could stomach disapproval and endure +severity; pitied for a misguided be-fooled clod I would not be; and the +best way to avoid such a fate seemed to lie in showing myself as +reckless a gallant and as fine a roisterer as any at Whitehall. So I +dipped freely and deep into my purse, till Jonah groaned as woefully for +my extravagance as for my frivolity. All day he was in great fear lest I +should take him with me to Court to the extreme peril of his soul; but +prudence at last stepped in and bade me spare myself the cost of a rich +livery by leaving him behind. + +Now Heaven forbid that I should imitate my servant's sour folly (for, if +a man must be a fool, I would have him a cheerful fool) or find anything +to blame in the pomp and seemly splendour of a Royal Court; yet the +profusion that met my eyes amazed me. It was the King's whim that on +this night himself, his friends, and principal gentlemen should, for no +reason whatsoever except the quicker disbursing of their money, assume +Persian attire, and they were one and all decked out in richest Oriental +garments, in many cases lavishly embroidered with precious stones. The +Duke of Buckingham seemed all ablaze, and the other courtiers and wits +were little less magnificent, foremost among them being the young Duke +of Monmouth, whom I now saw for the first time and thought as handsome a +youth as I had set eyes on. The ladies did not enjoy the licence offered +by this new fashion, but they contrived to hold their own in the French +mode, and I, who had heard much of the poverty of the nation, the +necessities of the fleet, and the straits in which the King found +himself for money, was left gaping in sheer wonder whence came all the +wealth that was displayed before my eyes. My own poor preparations lost +all their charm, and I had not been above half an hour in the place +before I was seeking a quiet corner in which to hide the poverty of my +coat and the plainness of my cloak. But the desire for privacy thus bred +in me was not to find satisfaction. Darrell, whom I had not met all day, +now pounced on me and carried me off, declaring that he was charged to +present me to the Duke of York. Trembling between fear and exultation, I +walked with him across the floor, threading my way through the dazzling +throng that covered the space in front of His Majesty's dais. But before +we came to the Duke, a gentleman caught my companion by the arm and +asked him how he did in a hearty, cheerful, and rather loud voice. +Darrell's answer was to pull me forward and present me, saying that Sir +Thomas Clifford desired my acquaintance, and adding much that erred +through kindness of my parts and disposition. + +"Nay, if he's your friend, it's enough for me, Darrell," answered +Clifford, and putting his mouth to Darrell's ear he whispered. Darrell +shook his head, and I thought that the Treasurer seemed disappointed. +However, he bade me farewell with cordiality. + +"What did he ask you?" said I, when we started on our way again. + +"Only whether you shared my superstition," answered Darrell with a +laugh. + +"They're all mighty anxious about my religion," thought I. "It would do +no harm if they bestowed more attention on their own." + +Suddenly turning a corner, we came on a group in a recess hung on three +sides with curtains and furnished with low couches in the manner of an +Oriental divan. The Duke of York, who seemed to me a handsome courtly +prince, was sitting, and by him Lord Arlington. Opposite to them stood a +gentleman to whom the Duke, when I had made my bow, presented me, +bidding me know Mr Hudleston, the Queen's Chaplain. I was familiar with +his name, having often, heard of the Romish priest who befriended the +King in his flight from Worcester. I was examining his features with the +interest that an unknown face belonging to a well-known name has for us, +when the Duke addressed me with a suave and lofty graciousness, his +manner being in a marked degree more ceremonious than the King's. + +"My Lord Arlington," said he, "has commended you, sir, as a young +gentleman of most loyal sentiments. My brother and we who love him have +great need of the services of all such." + +I stammered out an assurance of devotion. Arlington rose and took me by +the arm, whispering that I had no need to be embarrassed. But Mr +Hudleston turned a keen and searching glance on me, as though he would +read my thoughts. + +"I'm sure," said Arlington, "that Mr Dale is most solicitous to serve +His Majesty in all things." + +I bowed, saying to the Duke, + +"Indeed I am, sir. I ask nothing but an opportunity." + +"In all things?" asked Hudleston abruptly. "In all things, sir?" He +fixed his keen eyes on my face. + +Arlington pressed my arm and smiled pleasantly; he knew that kindness +binds more sheaves than severity. + +"Come, Mr Dale says in all things," he observed. "Do we need more, +sir?" + +But the Duke was rather of the priest's temper than of the Minister's. + +"Why, my lord," he answered, "I have never known Mr Hudleston ask a +question without a reason for it." + +"By serving the King in all things, some mean in all things in which +they may be pleased to serve the King," said Hudleston gravely. "Is Mr +Dale one of these? Is it the King's pleasure or his own that sets the +limit to his duty and his services?" + +They were all looking at me now, and it seemed as though we had passed +from courtly phrases, such as fall readily but with little import from a +man's lips, and had come to a graver matter. They were asking some +pledge of me, or their looks belied them. Why or to what end they +desired it, I could not tell; but Darrell, who stood behind the priest, +nodded his head to me with an anxious frown. + +"I will obey the King in all things," I began. + +"Well said, well said," murmured Arlington. + +"Saving," I proceeded, thinking it my duty to make this addition, and +not conceiving that there could be harm in it, "the liberties of the +Kingdom and the safety of the Reformed Religion." + +I felt Arlington's hand drawn half-away, but in an instant it was back, +and he smiled no less pleasantly than before. But the Duke, less able or +less careful to conceal his mood, frowned heavily, while Hudleston cried +impatiently, + +"Reservations! Kings are not served with reservations, sir." + +He made me angry. Had the Duke said what he did, I would have taken it +with a dutiful bow and a silent tongue. But who was this priest to rate +me in such a style? My temper banished my prudence, and, bending my head +towards him, I answered: + +"Yet the Crown itself is worn with these reservations, sir, and the King +himself allows them." + +For a moment nobody spoke. Then Arlington said, + +"I fear, sir, Mr Dale is as yet less a courtier than an honest +gentleman." + +The Duke rose to his feet. + +"I have found no fault with Mr Dale," said he haughtily and coldly, and, +taking no more heed of me, he walked away, while Hudleston, having +bestowed on me an angry glance, followed him. + +"Mr Dale, Mr Dale!" whispered Arlington, and with no more than that, +although still with a smile, he slipped his arm out of mine and left me, +beckoning Darrell to go with him. Darrell obeyed with a shrug of +despair. I was alone--and, as it seemed, ruined. Alas, why must I blurt +out my old lessons as though I had been standing again at my father's +knee and not in the presence of the Duke of York? Yes, my race was run +before it was begun. The Court was not the place for me. In great +bitterness I flung myself down on the cushions and sat there, out of +heart and very dismal. A moment passed; then the curtain behind me was +drawn aside, and an amused laugh sounded in my ear as I turned. A young +man leapt over the couch and threw himself down beside me, laughing +heartily and crying, + +"Well done, well done! I'd have given a thousand crowns to see their +faces!" + +I sprang to my feet in amazement and confusion, bowing low, for the +young man by me was the Duke of Monmouth. + +"Sit, man," said he, pulling me down again. "I was behind the curtain, +and heard it all. Thank God, I held my laughter in till they were gone. +The liberties of the Kingdom and the safety of the Reformed Religion! +Here's a story for the King!" He lay back, seeming to enjoy the jest +most hugely. + +"For the love of heaven, sir," I cried, "don't tell the King! I'm +already ruined." + +"Why, so you are, with my good uncle," said he. "You're new to Court, Mr +Dale?" + +"Most sadly new," I answered in a rueful tone, which set him laughing +again. + +"You hadn't heard the scandalous stories that accuse the Duke of loving +the Reformed Religion no better than the liberties of the Kingdom?" + +"Indeed, no, sir." + +"And my Lord Arlington? I know him! He held your arm, to the last, and +he smiled to the last?" + +"Indeed, sir, my lord was most gentle to me." + +"Aye, I know his way. Mr Dale, for this entertainment let me call you +friend. Come then, we'll go to the King with it." And, rising, he seized +me by the arm and began to drag me off. + +"Indeed your Grace must pardon me----" I began. + +"But indeed I will not," he persisted. Then he suddenly grew grave as he +said, "I am for the liberties of the Kingdom and the safety of the +Reformed Religion. Aren't we friends, then?" + +"Your Grace does me infinite honour." + +"And am I no good friend? Is there no value in the friendship of the +King's son--the King's eldest son?" He drew himself up with a grace and +a dignity which became him wonderfully. Often in these later days I see +him as he was then, and think of him with tenderness. Say what you will, +he made many love him even to death, who would not have lifted a finger +for his father or the Duke of York. + +Yet in an instant--such slaves are we of our moods--I was more than half +in a rage with him. For as we went we encountered Mistress Barbara on +Lord Carford's arm. The quarrel between them seemed past and they were +talking merrily together. On the sight of her the Duke left me and ran +forward. By an adroit movement he thrust Carford aside and began to ply +the lady with most extravagant and high-flown compliments, displaying +an excess of devotion which witnessed more admiration than respect. She +had treated me as a boy, but she did not tell him that he was a boy, +although he was younger than I; she listened with heightened colour and +sparkling eyes. I glanced at Carford and found, to my surprise, no signs +of annoyance at his unceremonious deposition. He was watching the pair +with a shrewd smile and seemed to mark with pleasure the girl's pride +and the young Duke's evident passion. Yet I, who heard something of what +passed, had much ado not to step in and bid her pay no heed to homage +that was empty if not dishonouring. + +Suddenly the Duke turned round and called to me. + +"Mr Dale," he cried, "there needed but one thing to bind us closer, and +here it is! For you are, I learn, the friend of Mistress Quinton, and I +am the humblest of her slaves, who serve all her friends for her sake." + +"Why, what would your Grace do for my sake?" asked Barbara. + +"What wouldn't I?" he cried, as if transported. Then he added rather +low, "Though I fear you're too cruel to do anything for mine." + +"I am listening to the most ridiculous speeches in the world for your +Grace's sake," said Barbara with a pretty curtsey and a coquettish +smile. + +"Is love ridiculous?" he asked. "Is passion a thing to smile at? Cruel +Mistress Barbara!" + +"Won't your Grace set it in verse?" said she. + +"Your grace writes it in verse on my heart," said he. + +Then Barbara looked across at me, it might be accidentally, yet it did +not appear so, and she laughed merrily. It needed no skill to measure +the meaning of her laugh, and I did not blame her for it. She had waited +for years to avenge the kiss that I gave Cydaria in the Manor Park at +Hatchstead; but was it not well avenged when I stood humbly, in +deferential silence, at the back while his Grace the Duke sued for her +favour, and half the Court looked on? I will not set myself down a churl +where nature has not made me one; I said in my heart, and I tried to say +to her with my eyes, "Laugh, sweet mistress, laugh!" For I love a girl +who will laugh at you when the game runs in her favour. + +The Duke fell to his protestations again, and Carford still listened +with an acquiescence that seemed strange in a suitor for the lady's +hand. But now Barbara's modesty took alarm; the signal of confusion flew +in her cheeks, and she looked round, distressed to see how many watched +them. Monmouth cared not a jot. I made bold to slip across to Carford, +and said to him in a low tone, + +"My lord, his Grace makes Mistress Barbara too much marked. Can't you +contrive to interrupt him?" + +He stared at me with a smile of wonder. But something in my look +banished his smile and set a frown in its place. + +"Must I have more lessons in manners from you, sir?" he asked. "And do +you include a discourse on the interrupting of princes?" + +"Princes?" said I. + +"The Duke of Monmouth is----" + +"The King's son, my lord," I interposed, and, carrying my hat in my +hand, I walked up to Barbara and the Duke. She looked at me as I came, +but not now mockingly; there was rather an appeal in her eyes. + +"Your Grace will not let me lose my audience with the King?" said I. + +He started, looked at me, frowned, looked at Barbara, frowned deeper +still. I remained quiet, in an attitude of great deference. Puzzled to +know whether I had spoken in sheer simplicity and ignorance, or with a +meaning which seemed too bold to believe in, he broke into a doubtful +laugh. In an instant Barbara drew away with a curtsey. He did not pursue +her, but caught my arm, and looked hard and straight in my face. I am +happily somewhat wooden of feature, and a man could not make me colour +now, although a woman could. He took nothing by his examination. + +"You interrupted me," he said. + +"Alas, your Grace knows how poor a courtier I am, and how ignorant----" + +"Ignorant!" he cried; "yes, you're mighty ignorant, no doubt; but I +begin to think you know a pretty face when you see it, Master Simon +Dale. Well, I'll not quarrel. Isn't she the most admirable creature +alive?" + +"I had supposed Lord Carford thought so, sir." + +"Oh! And yet Lord Carford did not hurry me off to find the King! But +you? What say you to the question?" + +"I'm so dazzled, sir, by all the beautiful ladies of His Majesty's Court +that I can hardly perceive individual charms." + +He laughed again, and pinched my arm, saying, + +"We all love what we have not. The Duke of York is in love with truth, +the King with chastity, Buckingham with modesty of demeanour, Rochester +with seemliness, Arlington with sincerity, and I, Simon--I do fairly +worship discretion!" + +"Indeed I fear I can boast of little, sir." + +"You shall boast of none, and thereby show the more, Simon. Come, +there's the King." And he darted on, in equal good humour, as it seemed, +with himself and me. Moreover, he lost no time on his errand; for when I +reached his side (since they who made way for him afforded me no such +civility) he had not only reached the King's chair, but was half-way +through his story of my answer to the Duke of York; all chance of +stopping him was gone. + +"Now I'm damned indeed," thought I; but I set my teeth, and listened +with unmoved face. + +At this moment the King was alone, save for ourselves and a little +long-eared dog which lay on his lap and was incessantly caressed with +his hand. He heard his son's story with a face as impassive as I strove +to render mine. At the end he looked up at me, asking, + +"What are these liberties which are so dear to you, sir?" + +My tongue had got me into trouble enough for one day, so I set its music +to a softer tune. + +"Those which I see preserved and honoured by your Majesty," said I, +bowing. + +Monmouth laughed, and clapped me on the back; but the King proceeded +gravely: + +"And this Reformed Religion that you set above my orders?" + +"The Faith, Sir, of which you are Defender." + +"Come, Mr Dale," said he, rather surly, "if you had spoken to my brother +as skilfully as you fence with me, he would not have been angry." + +I do not know what came over me. I said it in all honest simplicity, +meaning only to excuse myself for the disrespect I had shown to the +Duke; but I phrased the sentence most vilely, for I said: + +"When His Royal Highness questioned me, Sir, I had to speak the truth." + +Monmouth burst into a roar, and a moment later the King followed with a +more subdued but not less thorough merriment. When his mirth subsided he +said, + +"True, Mr Dale. I am a King, and no man is bound to speak truth to me. +Nor, by heaven--and there's a compensation--I to any man!" + +"Nor woman," said Monmouth, looking at the ceiling in apparent absence +of mind. + +"Nor even boy," added the King, with an amused glance at his son. "Well, +Mr Dale, can you serve me and this conscience of yours also?" + +"Indeed I cannot doubt it, Sir," said I. + +"A man's king should be his conscience," said the King. + +"And what should be conscience to the King, Sir?" asked Monmouth. + +"Why, James, a recognition of what evil things he may bring into the +world, if he doesn't mind his ways." + +Monmouth saw the hit, and took it with pretty grace, bending and kissing +the King's hand. + +"It is difficult, Mr Dale, to serve two masters," said the King, turning +again to me. + +"Your Majesty is my only master," I began; but the King interrupted me, +going on with some amusement: + +"Yet I should like to have seen my brother." + +"Let him serve me, Sir," cried Monmouth. "For I am firm in my love of +these liberties, aye, and of the Reformed Religion." + +"I know, James, I know," nodded the King. "It is grievous and strange, +however, that you should speak as though my brother were not." He +smiled very maliciously at the young Duke, who flushed red. The King +suddenly laughed, and fell to fondling the little dog again. + +"Then, Sir," said Monmouth, "Mr Dale may come with me to Dover?" + +My heart leapt, for all the talk now was of Dover, of the gaiety that +would be there, and the corresponding dulness in London, when the King +and the Duke were gone to meet Madame d'Orleans. I longed to go, and the +little hope I had cherished that Darrell's good offices with the +Secretary of State would serve me to that end had vanished. Now I was +full of joy, although I watched the King's face anxiously. + +For some reason the suggestion seemed to occasion him amusement; yet, +although for the most part he laughed openly without respect of matter +or person, he now bent over his little dog, as though he sought to hide +the smile, and when he looked up again it hung about his lips like the +mere ghost of mirth. + +"Why not?" said he. "To Dover, by all means. Mr Dale can serve you, and +me, and his principles, as well at Dover as in London." + +I bent on one knee and kissed his hand for the favour. When I sought to +do the like to Monmouth he was very ready, and received my homage most +regally. As I rose, the King was smiling at the pair of us in a +whimsical melancholy way. + +"Be off with you, boys," said he, as though we were a pair of lads from +the grammar school. "Ye are both fools; and James there is but +indifferently honest. But every hour's a chance, and every wench an +angel to you. Do what you will, and God forgive your sins." And he lay +back in his great chair with a good-humoured, lazy, weary smile, as he +idly patted the little dog. In spite of all that all men knew of him, I +felt my heart warm to him, and I knelt on my knee again, saying: + +"God save your Majesty." + +"God is omnipotent," said the King gravely. "I thank you, Mr Dale." + +Thus dismissed, we walked off together, and I was awaiting the Duke's +pleasure to relieve him also of my company, when he turned to me with a +smile, his white teeth gleaming: + +"The Queen sends a maid of honour to wait on Madame," said he. + +"Indeed, sir; it is very fitting." + +"And the Duchess sends one also. If you could choose from among the +Duchess's--for I swear no man in his senses would choose any of Her +Majesty's--whom would you choose, Mr. Dale?" + +"It is not for me to say, your Grace," I answered. + +"Well," said he, regarding me drolly, "I would choose Mistress Barbara +Quinton." And with a last laugh he ran off in hot pursuit of a lady who +passed at that moment and cast a very kindly glance at him. + +Left alone, but in a good humour that the Duke's last jest could not +embitter, I stood watching the scene. The play had begun now on a stage +at the end of the hall, but nobody seemed to heed it. They walked to and +fro, talking always, ogling, quarrelling, love-making, and intriguing. I +caught sight here of great ladies, there of beauties whose faces were +their fortune--or their ruin, which you will. Buckingham went by, fine +as a galley in full sail. The Duke of York passed with Mr Hudleston; my +salute went unacknowledged. Clifford came soon after; he bowed slightly +when I bowed to him, but his heartiness was gone. A moment later Darrell +was by my side; his ill-humour was over, but he lifted his hands in +comical despair. + +"Simon, Simon, you're hard to help," said he. "Alas, I must go to Dover +without you, my friend! Couldn't you restrain your tongue?" + +"My tongue has done me no great harm," said I, "and you needn't go to +Dover alone." + +"What?" he cried, amazed. + +"Unless the Duke of Monmouth and my Lord Arlington travel apart." + +"The Duke of Monmouth? What have you to do with him?" + +"I am to enter his service," I answered proudly; "and, moreover, I'm to +go with him to Dover to meet Madame d'Orleans." + +"Why, why? How comes this? How were you brought to his notice?" + +I looked at him, wondering at his eagerness. Then I took him by the +arm, and I said laughingly: + +"Come, I am teachable, and I have learnt my lesson." + +"What lesson do you mean?" + +"To restrain my tongue," said I. "Let those who are curious as to the +Duke of Monmouth's reasons for his favour to me, ask the Duke." + +He laughed, but I caught vexation in his laugh. + +"True, you're teachable, Simon," said he. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + +MADNESS, MAGIC, AND MOONSHINE + + +When the curtain had fallen on the little-heeded play and the gay crowd +began to disperse, I, perceiving that no more was to be seen or learnt, +went home to my lodging alone. After our conversation Darrell had left +me abruptly, and I saw him no more. But my own thoughts gave me +occupation enough; for even to a dull mind, and one unversed in Court +intrigues, it seemed plain that more hung on this expedition to Dover +than the meeting of the King's sister with her brother. So far all men +were of the same opinion; beyond, their variance began. I had not +thought to trouble my head about it, but, not having learnt yet that a +small man lives most comfortably with the great by opening his eyes and +ears only when bidden and keeping them tight locked for the rest, I was +inspired with eagerness to know the full meaning of the scene in which I +was now to play a part, however humble. Of one thing at least I was +glad--here I touched on a matter more suitable to my condition--and +this was that since Barbara Quinton was to go to Dover, I was to go +also. But, alas, neither here did perplexity lag far behind! It is easy +to know that you are glad to be with a lady; your very blood tells you; +but to say why is often difficult. I told myself that my sole cause for +pleasure lay in the services I might be able to render to my old +friend's daughter; she would want me to run her errands and do her +bidding; an attentive cavalier, however lowly, seldom comes amiss; these +pleas I muttered to myself, but swelling pride refused them, and for +once reason came as pride's ally, urging that in such company as would +assemble at Dover a girl might well need protection, no less than +compliments. It was true; my new master's bearing to her shewed how +true. And Carford was not, it seemed, a jealous lover. I was no +lover--my life was vowed to another most unhappy love--but I was a +gentleman, and (sweet thought!) the hour might come when the face which +had looked so mockingly at me to-night should turn again in appeal to +the wit and arm of Simon Dale. I grew taller as I thought of that, and, +coming just then to my own door, rapped with my cane as loudly and +defiantly as though I had been the Duke of Monmouth himself, and not a +gentleman in his suite. + +Loud as my rapping was, it brought no immediate answer. Again I knocked; +then feet came shuffling along the passage. I had aroused my sleepy +wretch; doubtless he would come groaning (for Jonah might not curse save +in the way of religion), and rubbing his eyes, to let me in. The door +opened and Jonah appeared; his eyes were not dull with sleep but seemed +to blaze with some strong excitement; he had not been to his bed, for +his dress was not disordered, and a light burnt bright in my parlour. To +crown all, from the same parlour came the sound of a psalm most shrilly +and villainously chanted through the nose in a voice familiar to my +ears. I, unlike my servant, had not bound myself against an oath where +the case called, and with a round one that sent Jonah's eyes in agony up +to the ceiling I pushed by him and ran into the parlour. A sonorous +"Amen" came pat with my entrance; Phineas Tate stood before me, lean and +pale, but calm and placid. + +"What in the devil's name brings you here?" I cried. + +"The service of God," he answered solemnly. + +"What, does it forbid sleep at nights?" + +"Have you been sleeping, young man?" he asked, pertinently enough, as I +must allow. + +"I have been paying my respects to His Majesty," said I. + +"God forgive him and you," was the retort. + +"Perhaps, sir, perhaps not," I replied, for I was growing angry. "But I +have asked your intercession no more than has the King. If Jonah brought +you here, it was without my leave; I beg you to take your +departure.--Jonah, hold the door there for Mr Tate." + +The man raised his hand impressively. + +"Hear my message first," he said. "I am sent unto you, that you may turn +from sin. For the Lord has appointed you to be his instrument. Even now +the plot is laid, even now men conspire to bring this kingdom again into +the bondage of Rome. Have you no ears, have you no eyes, are you blind +and deaf? Turn to me, and I will make you see and hear. For it is given +to me to show you the way." + +I was utterly weary of the fellow, and, in despair of getting quit of +him, flung myself into a chair. But his next words caught my attention. + +"The man who lives here with you--what of him? Is he not an enemy of +God?" + +"Mr Darrell is of the Romish faith," said I, smiling in spite of myself, +for a kinder soul than Darrell I had never met. + +Phineas came close to me, leaning over me with an admonishing forefinger +and a mysterious air. + +"What did he want with you?" he asked. "Yet cleave to him. Be where he +is, go where he goes." + +"If it comforts you, I am going where he goes," said I, yawning. "For we +are both going to Dover when the King goes." + +"It is God's finger and God's will!" cried Phineas, catching me by the +shoulder. + +"Enough!" I shouted, leaping up. "Keep your hands off me, man, if you +can't keep your tongue. What is it to you that we go to Dover?" + +"Aye, what?" came suddenly in Darrell's voice. He stood in the doorway +with a fierce and angry frown on his face. A moment later he was across +the room and laid his hand on Phineas. "Do you want another cropping of +your ears?" he asked. + +"Do your will on me," cried the fanatic. And sweeping away his lanky +hair he showed his ears; to my horror they had been cropped level across +their tops by the shears. "Do your will," he shrieked, "I am ready. But +your hour comes also, yea, your cup shall soon be full." + +Darrell spoke to him in low stern tones. + +"It may be more than ears, if you will not bridle your tongue. It's not +for you to question why the King comes or goes." + +I saw Jonah's face at the door, pale with fright as he looked at the two +men. The interest of the scene grew on me; the talk of Dover seemed to +pursue me strangely. + +"But this young man," pursued Phineas, utterly unmoved by Darrell's +threat, "is not of you; he shall be snatched from the burning, and by +his hand the Lord will work a great deliverance." + +Darrell turned to me and said stiffly: + +"This room is yours, sir, not mine. Do you suffer the presence of this +mischievous knave?" + +"I suffer what I can't help," I answered. "Mr Tate doesn't ask my +pleasure in his coming and going any more than the King asks Mr Tate's +in his." + +"It would do you no good, sir, to have it known that he was here," +Darrell reminded me with a significant nod of his head. + +Darrell had been a good friend to me and had won my regard, but, from an +infirmity of temper that I have touched on before, his present tone set +me against him. I take reproof badly, and age has hardly tamed me to it. + +"No good with whom?" I asked, smiling. "The Duke of York? My Lord +Arlington? Or do you mean the Duke of Monmouth? It is he whom I have to +please now." + +"None of them love Ranters," answered Darrell, keeping his face stiff +and inscrutable. + +"But one of them may prefer a Ranter to a Papist," laughed I. + +The thrust told, Darrell grew red. To myself I seemed to have hit +suddenly on the key of a mystery. Was I then a pawn in the great game of +the Churches, and Darrell another, and (to speak it with all due +respect), these grand dukes little better? Had Phineas Tate also his +place on the board where souls made the stakes? In such a game none is +too low for value, none too high for use. Surely my finger was on the +spring! At least I had confounded Darrell; his enemy, taking my help +readily enough, glared on him in most unchristian exultation, and then, +turning to me, cried in a species of fierce ecstasy, + +"Think not that because you are unworthy you shall not serve God. The +work sanctifies the instrument, yea, it makes clean that which is foul. +Verily, at His hour, God may work through a woman of sin." And he fixed +his eyes intently on me. + +I read a special meaning in his words; my thoughts flew readily to the +Cock and Pie in Drury Lane. + +"Yea, through a woman of sin," he repeated slowly and solemnly; then he +faced round, swift as the wind, on Darrell, and, minding my friend's +sullen scowl not a whit, cried to him, "Repent, repent, vengeance is +near!" and so at last was out of the room before either of us could +hinder him, had we wished, or could question him further. I heard the +house-door shut behind him, and I rose, looking at Darrell with an easy +smile. + +"Madness and moonshine, good friend," said I. "Don't let it disturb you. +If Jonah admits the fellow again he shall answer for it." + +"Indeed, Mr Dale, when I prayed you to share my lodging, I did not +foresee the nature of your company." + +"Fate more than choice makes a man's company," said I. "Now it's you, +now Phineas, now my lord the Secretary, and now his Grace the Duke. +Indeed, seeing how destiny--or, if you will, chance--rules, a man may +well be thought a fool who makes a plan or chooses a companion. For my +own part, I am fate's child and fate shall guide me." + +He was still stiff and cold with me, but my friendly air and my evident +determination to have no quarrel won him to civility if to no warmer +demonstration of regard. + +"Fate's child?" he asked with a little scorn, but seating himself and +smoothing his brow. "You're fate's child? Isn't that an arrogant speech, +Simon?" + +"If it weren't true, most arrogant," I answered. "Come, I'll tell you; +it's too soon for bed and too late to go abroad. Jonah, bring us some +wine, and if it be good, you shall be forgiven for admitting Master +Tate." + +Jonah went off and presently returned with a bottle, which we drank, +while I, with the candour I had promised, told my friend of Betty +Nasroth and her prophecy. He heard me with an attention which belied the +contempt he asserted; I have noticed that men pay heed to these things +however much they laugh at them. At the end, growing excited not only +with the wine but with the fumes of life which had been mounting into my +young brain all the day, I leapt up, crying aloud: + +"And isn't it true? Shan't I know what he hides? Shan't I drink of his +cup? For isn't it true? Don't I already, to my infinite misery, love +where he loves?" For the picture of Nell had come suddenly across me in +renewed strength and sweetness; when I had spoken I dropped again into +my chair and laid my head down on my arms. + +Silence followed; Darrell had no words of consolation for my woes and +left my love-lorn cry unheeded; presently then (for neglected sorrows do +not thrive) I looked furtively at him between the fingers of my hand. He +sat moody, thoughtful, and frowning. I raised my head and met his eyes. +He leant across the table, saying in a sneering tone, "A fine witch, on +my life! You should know what he hides?" + +"Aye." + +"And drink of his cup?" + +"Aye, so she said." + +He sat sunk in troubled thought, but I, being all this night torn to and +fro by changing and warring moods, sprang up again and cried in +boisterous scorn, "What, you believe these fables? Does God reveal +hidden things to old crones? I thought you at Court were not the fools +of such fancies! Aren't they fitter for rustic churls, Mr Darrell? God +save us, do we live in the days of King James?" + +He answered me shortly and sternly, as though I had spoken of things not +to be named lightly. + +"It is devil's work, all of it." + +"Then the devil is busier than he seems, even after a night at Court," I +said. "But be it whose work it will, I'll do it. I'll find what he +hides. I'll drink of his cup. Come, you're glum! Drink, friend Darrell! +Darrell, what's in his cup, what does he hide? Darrell, what does the +King hide?" + +I had caught him by the shoulder and was staring in his face. I was all +aglow, and my eyes, no doubt, shone bright with excitement and the +exhilaration of the wine. The look of me, or the hour of the night, or +the working of his own superstition, got hold of him, for he sprang up, +crying madly: + +"My God, do you know?" and glared into my face as though I had been the +very devil of whom I spoke. + +We stood thus for a full minute. But I grew cool before my companion, +wonder working the change in me sooner than confusion could in him. For +my random ravings had most marvellously struck on something more than my +sober speculations could discern. The man before me was mad--or he had a +secret. And friend Darrell was no madman. + +"Do I know?" I asked. "Do I know what? What could I, Simon Dale, know? +What in Heaven's name is there to know?" And I smiled cunningly, as +though I sought to hide knowledge by a parade of ignorance. + +"Nothing, nothing," he muttered uneasily. "The wine's got into my head." + +"Yet you've drunk but two glasses; I had the rest," said I. + +"That damned Ranter has upset me," he growled. "That, and the talk of +your cursed witch." + +"Can Ranters and witches make secrets where there are none?" said I with +a laugh. + +"They can make fools think there are secrets where there are none," said +he rudely. + +"And other fools ask if they're known," I retorted, but with a laugh; +and I added, "I'm not for a quarrel, secret or no secret, so if that's +your purpose in sitting the night through, to bed with you, my friend." + +Whether from prudence, or whether my good humour rebuked his temper, he +grew more gentle; he looked at me kindly enough and sighed, as he said: + +"I was to be your guide in London, Simon; but you take your own path." + +"The path you shewed me was closed in my face," said I, "and I took the +first that was opened to me." + +"By the Duke of Monmouth?" + +"Yes--or by another, if it had chanced to be another." + +"But why take any, Simon?" he urged persuasively. "Why not live in peace +and leave these great folk alone?" + +"With all my heart," I cried. "Is it a bargain? Whither shall we fly +from the turmoil?" + +"We!" he exclaimed with a start. + +"Aren't you sick of the same disease? Isn't the same medicine best for +you? Come, shall we both go to-morrow to Hatchstead--a pretty village, +Mr Darrell--and let the great folk go alone to Dover?" + +"You know I cannot. I serve my Lord Arlington." + +"And I the Duke of Monmouth." + +"But my Lord is the King's servant." + +"And his Grace the King's son." + +"Oh, if you're obstinate----" he began, frowning. + +"As fate, as prophecy, as witch, as Ranter, as devil, or as yourself!" I +said, laughing and throwing myself into a chair as he rose and moved +towards the door. + +"No good will come of it to you," he said, passing me on his way. + +"What loyal servant looks to make a profit of his service?" I asked, +smiling. + +"I wish you could be warned." + +"I'm warned, but not turned, Darrell. Come, we part friends?" + +"Why, yes, we are friends," he answered, but with a touch of hesitation. + +"Saving our duty to the King?" + +"If need should come for that reservation, yes," said he gravely. + +"And saving," said I, "the liberties of the Kingdom and the safety of +the Reformed Religion--if need should come for these reservations, Mr +Darrell," and I laughed to see the frown gather again on his brow. But +he made no reply, being unable to trust his self-control or answer my +light banter in its own kind. He left me with no more than a shake of +his head and a wave of his hand; and although we parted thus in amity +and with no feelings save of kindness for one another, I knew that +henceforth there must be a difference in our relations; the days of +confidence were gone. + +The recognition of my loss weighed little with me. The diffidence born +of inexperience and of strangeness to London and the Court was wearing +away; the desire for another's arm to lean on and another's eyes to see +with gave way before a young man's pride in his own arm's strength and +the keenness of his own vision. There was sport afoot; aye, for me in +those days all things were sport, even the high disputes of Churches or +of Kingdoms. We look at the world through our own glasses; little as it +recks of us, it is to us material and opportunity; there in the dead of +night I wove a dream wherein the part of hero was played by Simon Dale, +with Kings and Dukes to bow him on and off the stage and Christendom to +make an audience. These dream-doings are brave things: I pity the man +who performs none of them; for in them you may achieve without labour, +enjoy without expense, triumph without cruelty, aye, and sin mightily +and grandly with never a reckoning for it. Yet do not be a mean villain +even in your dreaming, for that sticks to you when you awake. + +I had supposed myself alone to be out of bed and Jonah Wall to have +slunk off in fear of my anger. But now my meditations were interrupted +by his entrance. He crept up to me in an uneasy fashion, but seemed to +take courage when I did not break into abuse, but asked him mildly why +he had not sought rest and what he wanted with me. His first answer was +to implore me to protect him from Mr Darrell's wrath; through Phineas +Tate, he told me timidly, he had found grace, and he could deny him +nothing; yet, if I bade him, he would not admit him again. + +"Let him come," said I carelessly. "Besides, we shall not be long here. +For you and I are going on a journey, Jonah." + +"A journey, sir?" + +"Ay, I go with the Duke of Monmouth, and you go with me, to Dover when +the King goes." + +Now, either Dover was on everybody's brain, or was very sadly on my +brain, for I swear even this fellow's eye seemed to brighten as I named +the place. + +"To Dover, sir?" + +"No less. You shall see all the gaiety there is to be seen, Jonah." + +The flush of interest had died away; he was dolefully tranquil and +submissive again. + +"Well, what do you want with me?" I asked, for I did not wish him to +suspect that I detected any change in his manner. + +"A lady came here to-day, sir, in a very fine coach with Flemish +horses, and asked for you. Hearing you were from home, she called to me +and bade me take a message for you. I prayed her to write it, but she +laughed, and said she spoke more easily than she wrote; and she bade me +say that she wished to see you." + +"What sort of lady was she, Jonah?" + +"She sat all the while in the coach, sir, but she seemed not tall; she +was very merry, sir." Jonah sighed deeply; with him merriment stood high +among the vices of our nature. + +"She didn't say for what purpose she wanted me?" I asked as carelessly +as I could. + +"No, sir. She said you would know the purpose, and that she would look +for you at noon to-morrow." + +"But where, Jonah?" + +"At a house called Burford House, sir, in Chelsea." + +"She gave you no name?" + +"I asked her name, and she gave me one." + +"What was it?" + +"It was a strange heathenish name, and she laughed as she gave it; +indeed she laughed all the time." + +"There's no sin in laughter," said I dryly. "You may leave me, I need no +help in undressing." + +"But the name----" + +"By Heaven, man, I know the name! Be off with you!" + +He shuffled off, his whole manner expressing reprobation, whether most +of my oath, or of the heathenish name, or of the lady who gave it, I +know not. + +Well, if he were so horror-stricken at these things, what would he say +at learning with whom he had talked? Perhaps he would have preached to +her, as had Phineas Tate, his master in religion. For, beyond doubt, +that heathenish name was Cydaria, and that fine coach with Flemish +horses--I left the question of that coach unanswered. + +The moment the door was shut behind my servant I sprang to my feet, +crying in a low but very vehement voice, "Never!" I would not go. Had +she not wounded me enough? Must I tear away the bandage from the gash? +She had tortured me, and asked me now, with a laugh, to be so good as +stretch myself on the rack again. I would not go. That laugh was cruel +insolence. I knew that laugh. Ah, why so I did--I knew it well--how it +rose and rippled and fell, losing itself in echoes scarcely audible, but +rich with enticing mirth. Surely she was cunningly fashioned for the +undoing of men; yes, and of herself, poor soul. What were her coaches, +and the Flemish horses, and the house called Burford House in Chelsea? A +wave of memory swept over me, and I saw her simple--well then, more +simple!--though always merry, in the sweet-smelling fields at home, +playing with my boy's heart as with a toy that she knew little of, but +yet by instinct handled deftly. It pleased her mightily, that toy, and +she seemed to wonder when she found that it felt. She did not feel; joy +was hers, nothing deeper. Yet could she not, might she not, would she +not? I knew what she was; who knew what she might be? The picture of her +rose again before my eyes, inviting a desperate venture, spurring me on +to an enterprise in which the effort seemed absurdity, and success would +have been in the eyes of the world calamity. Yet an exaltation of spirit +was on me, and I wove another dream that drove the first away; now I did +not go to Dover to play my part in great affairs and jostle for higher +place in a world where in God's eyes all places are equal and all low, +but away back to the country I had loved, and not alone. She should be +with me, love should dress penitence in glowing robes, and purity be +decked more gloriously than all the pomps of sin. Could it be? If it +could, it seemed a prize for which all else might be willingly +forgone--an achievement rare and great, though the page of no history +recorded it. + +Phineas Tate had preached to her, and gone away, empty and scorned. I +would preach too, in different tones and with a different gospel. Yet my +words should have a sweetness his had not, my gospel a power that should +draw where his repelled. For my love, shaken not yet shattered, wounded +not dead, springing again to full life and force, should breathe its +vital energy into her soul and impart of its endless abundance till her +heart was full. Entranced by this golden vision, I rose and looked from +the window at the dawning day, praying that mine might be the task, the +achievement, the reward. + +Bright dawned that day as I, with brighter brightness in my heart, +climbed the stairs that led to my bedroom. But as I reached the door of +it, I paused. There came a sound from the little closet beyond, where +Jonah stretched his weary legs, and, as I hoped, had forgotten in +harmless sleep the soul that he himself tormented worse than would the +hell he feared. No, he did not rest. From his closet came low, fervent, +earnest prayers. Listening a minute, half in scorn, half in pity, and in +no unkindness, I heard him. + +"Praise be to God," he said, "Who maketh the crooked places straight, +and openeth a path through the wilderness, and setteth in the hand of +His servant a sword wherewith to smite the ungodly even in high places." + +What crooked places were made straight, what path opened, what sword set +in Jonah's hand? Of the ungodly in high places there was no lack in the +days of King Charles. But was Jonah Wall to smite them? I opened my door +with a laugh. We were all mad that night, and my madness lasted till the +morning. Yes, till the morning grew full my second dream was with me. + + + + +CHAPTER IX + +OF GEMS AND PEBBLES + + +How I sought her, how I found her, that fine house of hers with the lawn +round it and the river by it, the stare of her lackeys, the pomp of her +living, the great lord who was bowed out as I went in, the maid who +bridled and glanced and laughed--they are all there in my memory, but +blurred, confused, beyond clear recall. Yet all that she was, looked, +said, aye, or left the clearer for being unsaid, is graven on my memory +in lines that no years obliterate and no change of mind makes hard to +read. She wore the great diamond necklace whose purchase was a fresh +text with the serious, and a new jest for the wits; on her neck it +gleamed and flashed as brilliantly and variously as the dazzling turns +in her talk and the unending chase of fleeting moods across her face. +Yet I started from my lodging, sworn to win her, and came home sworn to +have done with her. Let me tell it; I told it to myself a thousand times +in the days that followed. But even now, and for all the times that the +scene has played itself again before my unwilling eyes, I can scarcely +tell whence and how at the last, the change came. I think that the pomp +itself, the lord and the lackeys, the fine house, and all her state +struck as it were cold at my heart, dooming to failure the mad appeal +which they could not smother. But there was more; for all these might +have been, and yet not reached or infected her soul. But when I spoke to +her in words that had for me a sweetness so potent as to win me from all +hesitation and make as nothing the whole world beside, she did not +understand. I saw that she tried to understand; when she failed, I had +failed also. The flower was dead; what use then to cherish or to water +it? I had not thought it was dead, but had prayed that, faded and choked +though it were, yet it might find life in the sunshine of my love and +the water of her tears. But she did not weep, unless in a passing +petulance because I asked what she could not give; and the clouds swept +dark over my love's bright face. + +And now, alas, I am so wise that I cannot weep! I must rather smile to +have asked, than lament that my asking was in vain. I must wonder at her +patience in refusing kindly, and be no more amazed that she refused at +last. Yet this sad wisdom that sits well on age I do not love in youth. +I was a fool; but if to hold that good shall win and a true love prevail +be folly, let my sons be fools after me until their sons in turn catch +up from them the torch of that folly which illuminates the world. + +You would have said that she had not looked to see me, for she started +as though in surprise when I stood before her, saying, "You sent for +me." + +"I sent for you?" she cried, still as if puzzled; then, "Ah, I remember. +A whim seized me as I passed your lodging. Yet you deserved no such +favour, for you treated me very rudely--why, yes, with great +unkindness--last time we met. But I wouldn't have you think me +resentful. Old friends must forgive one another, mustn't they? Besides, +you meant no hurt, you were vexed, perhaps you were even surprised. Were +you surprised? No, you weren't surprised. But were you grieved, Simon?" + +I had been gazing dully at her, now I spoke heavily and dully. + +"You wear gems there on your neck," said I, pointing at the necklace. + +"Isn't the neck worthy?" she murmured quickly yet softly, pulling her +dress away to let me see the better, and raising her eyes to mine. + +"Yes, very worthy. But wouldn't you be grieved to find them pebbles?" + +"By my faith, yes!" she laughed, "for I paid the price of gems for +them." + +"I also paid the price of a gem," said I, "and thought I had it." + +"And it proved a pebble?" said she, leaning over me; for I had seated +myself in a chair, being in no mood for ceremony. + +"Yes, a pebble; a very pebble, a common pebble." + +"A common pebble!" she echoed. "Oh, Simon, cruel Simon! But a pretty +bright pebble? It looked like a gem, Simon?" + +"God forgive you, yes. In Heaven's name--then--long ago, when you came +to Hatchstead--what then? Weren't you then----" + +"No gem," said she. "Even then a pebble." Her voice sank a little, as +though for a single moment some unfamiliar shame came on her. "A common +pebble," she added, echoing my words. + +"Then God forgive you," said I again, and I leant my head on my hand. + +"And you, good Simon, do you forgive me?" + +I was silent. She moved away petulantly, crying, + +"You're all so ready to call on God to forgive! Is forgiveness God's +only? Will none of you forgive for yourselves? Or are you so righteous +that you can't do what God must?" + +I sprang up and came to her. + +"Forgive?" I cried in a low voice. "Ay, I'll forgive. Don't talk of +forgiveness to me. I came to love." + +"To love? Now?" Her eyes grew wide in wonder, amusement, and delight. + +"Yes," said I. + +"You loved the gem; you'd love the pebble? Simon, Simon, where is Madame +your mother, where my good friend the Vicar? Ah, where's your virtue, +Simon?" + +"Where yours shall be," I cried, seizing and covering her hands in mine. +"Where yours, there mine, and both in love that makes delight and virtue +one." I caught a hand to my lips and kissed it many times. "No sin comes +but by desire," said I, pleading, "and if the desire is no sin, there is +no sin. Come with me! I will fulfil all your desire and make your sin +dead." + +She shrank back amazed; this was strange talk to her; yet she left her +hand in mine. + +"Come with you? But whither, whither? We are no more in the fields at +Hatchstead." + +"We could be again," I cried. "Alone in the fields at Hatchstead." + +Even now she hardly understood what I would have, or, understanding, +could not believe that she understood rightly. + +"You mean--leave--leave London and go with you? With you alone?" + +"Yes--alone with your husband." + +She pulled her hand away with a jerk, crying, "You're mad!" + +"May be. Let me be mad, and be mad yourself also, sweetheart. If both of +us are mad, what hurt?" + +"What, I--I go--I leave the town--I leave the Court? And you?--You're +here to seek your fortune!" + +"Mayn't I dream that I've found it?" And again I caught her hand. + +After a moment she drew nearer to me; I felt her fingers press mine in +tenderness. + +"Poor Simon!" said she with a little laugh. "Indeed he remembers Cydaria +well. But Cydaria, such as she was, even Cydaria is gone. And now I am +not she." Then she laughed again, crying, "What folly!" + +"A moment ago you didn't call it folly." + +"Then I was doubly a fool," she answered with the first touch of +bitterness. "For folly it is, deep and black. I am not--nay, was I +ever?--one to ramble in green fields all day and go home to a cottage." + +"Never," said I. "Nor will be, save for the love of a man you love. Save +for that, what woman has been? But for that, how many!" + +"Why, very few," said she with a gentle little laugh. "And of that +few--I am not one. Nay, nor do I--am I cruel?--nor do I love you, +Simon." + +"You swear it?" + +"But a little--as a friend, an old friend." + +"And a dear one?" + +"One dear for a certain pleasant folly that he has." + +"You'll come?" + +"No." + +"Why not? But in a day neither you nor I would ask why." + +"I don't ask now. There's a regiment of reasons." Her laugh burst out +again; yet her eyes seemed tender. + +"Give me one." + +"I have given one. I don't love you." + +"I won't take it." + +"I am what I am." + +"You should be what I would make you." + +"You're to live at the Court. To serve the Duke of Monmouth, isn't it?" + +"What do I care for that? Are there no others?" + +"Let go my hand--No, let it go. See now, I'll show you. There's a ring +on it." + +"I see the ring." + +"A rich one." + +"Very rich." + +"Simon, do you guess who set it there?" + +"He is your King only while you make him such." + +"Nay," she cried with sudden passion, "I am set on my course." Then came +defiance. "I wouldn't change it. Didn't I tell you once that I might +have power with the King?" + +"Power? What's that to you? What's it to any of us beside love?" + +"Oh, I don't know anything about your love," she cried fretfully, "but I +know what I love--the stir, and the frowns of great ladies, and the +courting of great lords. Ah, but why do I talk? Do we reason with a +madman?" + +"If we are touched ever so little with his disease." + +She turned to me with sparkling eyes; she spoke very softly. + +"Ah, Simon, you too have a tongue! Can you also lure women? I think you +could. But keep it, Simon, keep it for your wife. There's many a maid +would gladly take the title, for you're a fine figure, and I think that +you know the way to a woman's heart." + +Standing above me (for I had sunk back in my chair) she caressed my +cheek gently with her hand. I was checked, but not beaten. My madness, +as she called it (as must not I also call it?), was still in me, hot and +surging. Hope was yet alive, for she had shown me tenderness, and once +it had seemed as though a passing shadow of remorse had shot across her +brightness. Putting out my hands, I took both of hers again, and so +looked up in her face, dumbly beseeching her; a smile quivered on her +lips as she shook her head at me. + +"Heaven keeps you for better things," she said. + +"I'd be the judge of them myself," I cried, and I sought to carry her +hands to my lips. + +"Let me go," she said; "Simon, you must let me go. Nay, you must. So! +Sit there, and I'll sit opposite to you." + +She did as she said, seating herself over against me, although quite +close. She looked me in the face. Presently she gave a little sigh. + +"Won't you leave me now?" she asked with a plaintive smile. + +I shook my head, but made no other answer. + +"I'm sorry," she went on softly, "that I came to Hatchstead; I'm sorry +that I brought you to London, that I met you in the Lane, that I brought +you here to-day. I didn't guess your folly. I've lived with players, and +with courtiers, and with--with one other; so I didn't dream of such +folly as yours. Yes, I'm sorry." + +"You can give me joy infinitely greater than any sorrow I've had by +you," said I in a low voice. + +On this she sat silent for a full minute, seeming to study my face. Then +she looked to right and left, as though she would fain have escaped. She +laughed a little, but grew grave again, saying, "I don't know why I +laughed," and sighing heavily. I watched every motion and change in her, +waiting for her to speak again. At last she spoke. + +"You won't be angry with me, Simon?" she asked coaxingly. + +"Why, no," I answered, wondering. + +"Nor run quite mad, nor talk of death, nor any horrors?" + +"I'll hear all you say calmly," I answered. + +She sat looking at me in a whimsical distress, seeming to deprecate +wrath and to pray my pardon yet still to hint amusement deep-hidden in +her mind. Then she drew herself up, and a strange and most pitiful +pride appeared on her face. I did not know the meaning of it. She leant +forward towards me, blushing a little, and whispered my name. + +"I'm waiting to hear you," said I; my voice came hard, stern, and cold. + +"You'll be cruel to me, I know you will," she cried petulantly. + +"On my life, no," said I. "What is it you want to say?" + +She was like a child who shows you some loved forbidden toy that she +should not have, but prizes above all her trifles; there was that sly +joy, that ashamed exultation in her face. + +"I have promises," she whispered, clasping her hands and nodding her +head at me. "Ah, they make songs on me, and laugh at me, and Castlemaine +looks at me as though I were the street-dirt under her feet. But they +shall see! Ay, they shall see that I can match them!" She sprang to her +feet in reckless merriment, crying, "Shall I make a pretty countess, +Simon?" She came near to me and whispered with a mysterious air, "Simon, +Simon!" + +I looked up at her sparkling eyes. + +"Simon, what's he whom you serve, whom you're proud to serve? Who is he, +I say?" She broke into a laugh of triumph. + +But I, hearing her laugh, and finding my heart filled with a sudden +terror, spread my hands over my eyes and fell back heavily in my chair, +like a sick man or a drunken. For now, indeed, I saw that my gem was +but a pebble. And the echo of her laugh rang in my ears. + +"So I can't come, Simon," I heard her say. "You see that I can't come. +No, no, I can't come"; and again she laughed. + +I sat where I was, hearing nothing but the echo of her laugh, unable to +think save of the truth that was driven so cruelly into my mind. The +first realising of things that cannot be undone brings to a young man a +fierce impotent resentment; that was in my heart, and with it a sudden +revulsion from what I had desired, as intemperate as the desire, as +cruel, it may be, as the thing which gave it birth. Nell's laughter died +away, and she was silent. Presently I felt a hand rest on my hands as +though seeking to convey sympathy in a grief but half-understood. I +shrank away, moving my hands till hers no longer touched them. There are +little acts, small matters often, on which remorse attends while life +lasts. Even now my heart is sore that I shrank away from her; she was +different now in nothing from what I had known of her; but I who had +desired passionately now shunned her; the thing had come home to me, +plain, close, in an odious intimacy. Yet I wish I had not shrunk away; +before I could think I had done it; and I found no words; better perhaps +that I attempted none. + +I looked up; she was holding out the hand before her; there was a +puzzled smile on her lips. + +"Does it burn, does it prick, does it soil, Simon?" she asked. "See, +touch it, touch it. It is as it was, isn't it?" She put it close by my +hand, waiting for me to take it, but I did not take it. "As it was when +you kissed it," said she; but still I did not take it. + +I rose to my feet slowly and heavily, like a tired man whose legs are +reluctant to resume their load. She stood quite still, regarding me now +with alarmed and wondering eyes. + +"It's nothing," I stammered. "Indeed it's nothing; only I hadn't thought +of it." + +Scarcely knowing what I did, I began to move towards the door. An +unreasoned instinct impelled me to get away from her. Yet my gaze was +drawn to her face; I saw her lips pouting and her cheek flushed, the +brightness of her eyes grew clouded. She loved me enough to be hurt by +me, if no more. A pity seized me; turning, I fell on my knee, and, +seizing the hand whose touch I had refused, I kissed it. + +"Ah, you kiss my hand now!" she cried, breaking into smiles again. + +"I kiss Cydaria's hand," said I. "For in truth I'm sorry for my +Cydaria." + +"She was no other than I am," she whispered, and now with a touch of +shame; for she saw that I felt shame for her. + +"Not what is hurts us, but what we know," said I. "Good-bye, Cydaria," +and again I kissed her hand. She drew it away from me and tossed her +head, crying angrily: + +"I wish I hadn't told you." + +"In God's name don't wish that," said I, and drew her gaze on me again +in surprise. I moved on my way, the only way my feet could tread. But +she darted after me, and laid her hand on my arm. I looked at her in +amazed questioning. + +"You'll come again, Simon, when--?" The smile would not be denied though +it came timidly, afraid for its welcome and distrustful of its right. +"When you're better, Simon?" + +I longed--with all my heart I longed--to be kind to her. How could the +thing be to her what it was to me? She could not understand why I was +aghast; extravagant despair, all in the style of a vanquished rival, +would have been easy for her to meet, to ridicule, to comfort. I knew +all this, but I could not find the means to affect it or to cover my own +distress. + +"You'll come again then?" she insisted pleadingly. + +"No," said I, bluntly, and cruelly with unwilling cruelty. + +At that a sudden gust of passion seized her and she turned on me, +denouncing me fiercely, in terms she took no care to measure, for a +prudish virtue that for good or evil was not mine, and for a narrowness +of which my reason was not guilty. I stood defenceless in the storm, +crying at the end no more than, "I don't think thus of you." + +"You treat me as though you thought thus," she cried. Yet her manner +softened and she came across to me, seeming now as if she might fall to +weeping. But at the instant the door opened and the saucy maid who had +ushered me in entered, running hastily to her mistress, in whose ears +she whispered, nodding and glancing the while at me. + +"The King!" cried Nell, and, turning to me, she added hastily: "He'd +best not find you here." + +"I ask no better than to be gone," said I. + +"I know, I know," she cried. "We're not disturbed! The King's coming +interrupts nothing, for all's finished. Go then, go, out of my sight." +Her anger seemed to rise again, while the serving-girl stared back +astonished as she passed out. But if she went to stay the King's coming, +she was too late. For he was in the doorway the instant she had passed +through; he had heard Nell's last speech, and now he showed himself, +asking easily, + +"Who's the gentleman of whose society you are so ready to be relieved?" + +I turned, bowing low. The King arched his brows. It may well be that he +had had enough of me already, and that he was not well pleased to +stumble on me again and in this place. But he said nothing, merely +turning his eyes to Nell in question. + +"You know him, Sir," said she, throwing herself into a chair. + +"Yes, I know him," said the King. "But, if I may ask without +presumption, what brings him here?" + +Nell looked at the pair of us, the King and Simon Dale, and answered +coolly, + +"My invitation." + +"The answer is all sufficient," bowed the King. "I'm before my time +then, for I received a like honour." + +"No, he's after his," said she. "But as you heard, Sir, I was urging him +to go." + +"Not on my account, I pray," said the King politely. + +"No, on his. He's not easy here." + +"Yet he outstayed his time!" + +"We had a matter of business together, Sir. He came to ask something of +me, but matters did not prove to be as he thought." + +"Indeed you must tell me more, or should have told me less. I'm of a +mighty curious disposition. Won't Mr Dale sit?" And the King seated +himself. + +"I will beg your Majesty's permission to depart," said I. + +"All requests here, sir, lie with this lady to grant or to refuse. In +this house I am a servant,--nay, a slave." + +Nell rose and coming to the side of the King's chair stood there. + +"Had things been other than they are, Mr Dale would have asked me to be +his wife," said she. + +A silence followed. Then the King remarked, + +"Had things been other than they are, Mr Dale would have done well." + +"And had they been other than they are, I might well have answered yes," +said Nell. + +"Why yes, very well," said the King. "For Mr Dale is, I'm very sure, a +gentleman of spirit and honour, although he seems, if I may say so, just +now rather taciturn." + +"But as matters are, Mr Dale would have no more of me." + +"It's not for me," said the King, "to quarrel with his resolve, although +I'm free to marvel at it." + +"And asks no more of me than leave to depart." + +"Do you find it hard, madame, to grant him that much?" + +She looked in the King's face and laughed in amusement, but whether at +him or me or herself I cannot tell. + +"Why, yes, mighty hard," said she. "It's strange how hard." + +"By my faith," said the King, "I begin to be glad that Mr Dale asked no +more. For if it be hard to grant him this little thing, it might have +been easy to grant him more. Come, is it granted to him?" + +"Let him ask for it again," said she, and leaving the King she came and +stood before me, raising her eyes to mine. "Would you leave me, Simon?" +she cried. + +"Yes, I would leave you, madame," said I. + +"To go whither?" + +"I don't know." + +"Yet the question isn't hard," interposed the King. "And the answer +is--elsewhere." + +"Elsewhere!" cried Nell. "But what does that mean, Sir?" + +"Nay, I don't know her name," said the King. "Nor, may be, does Mr Dale +yet. But he'll learn, and so, I hope, shall I, if I can be of service to +him." + +"I'm in no haste to learn it," cried Nell. + +"Why no," laughed the King. + +She turned to me again, holding out her hand as though she challenged me +to refuse it. + +"Good-bye, Simon," said she, and she broke into a strange little laugh +that seemed devoid of mirth, and to express a railing mockery of herself +and what she did. + +I saw the King watching us with attentive eyes and brows bent in a +frown. + +"Good-bye," said I. Looking into her eyes, I let my gaze dwell long on +her; it dwelt longer than I meant, reluctant to take last leave of old +friends. Then I kissed her hand and bowed very low to the King, who +replied with a good-natured nod; then turning I passed out of the room. + +I take it that the change from youth to manhood, and again from full +manhood to decline, comes upon us gradually, never ceasing but never +swift, as mind and body alike are insensibly transformed beneath the +assault of multitudinous unperceived forces of matter and of +circumstances; it is the result we know; that, not the process, is the +reality for us. We awake to find done what our sleepy brains missed in +the doing, and after months or years perceive ourselves in a second +older by all that period. We are jogged by the elbow, roused ruthlessly +and curtly bidden to look and see how we are changed, and wonder, weep, +or smile as may seem best to us in face of the metamorphosis. A moment +of such awakening came to me now; I seemed a man different from him who +had, no great number of minutes before, hastened to the house, inspired +by an insane hope, and aflame with a passion that defied reason and +summed up life in longing. The lackeys were there still, the maid's +smile altered only by a fuller and more roguish insinuation. On me the +change had passed, and I looked open-eyed on what I had been. Then came +a smile, close neighbour to a groan, and the scorn of my old self which +is the sad delirium wrought by moving time; but the lackey held the door +for me and I passed out. + +A noise sounded from above as the casement of the window was thrown +open. She looked out; her anger was gone, her emotion also seemed gone. +She stood there smiling, very kindly but with mockery. She held in +either hand a flower. One she smelt and held her face long to it, as +though its sweetness kept her senses willing prisoners; turning to the +other, she smelt it for a short instant and then drew away, her face, +that told every mood with unfailing aptness, twisted into disappointment +or disgust. She leant out looking down on me; now behind her shoulder I +saw the King's black face, half-hidden by the hangings of the window. +She glanced at the first flower, then at the second, held up both her +hands for a moment, turned for an instant with a coquettish smile +towards the swarthy face behind, then handed the first flower with a +laugh into a hand that was stretched out for it, and flung the second +down to me. As it floated through the air, the wind disengaged its loose +petals and they drifted away, some reaching ground, some caught by gusts +and carried away, circling, towards the house-tops. The stalk fell by +me, almost naked, stripped of its bloom. For the second flower was +faded, and had no sweetness nor life left in it. Again her laugh sounded +above me, and the casement closed. + +I bent and picked up the stalk. Was it her own mood she told me in the +allegory? Or was it the mood she knew to be in me? There had been an +echo of sorrow in the laugh, of pity, kindness, and regret: and the +laugh that she uttered in giving the fresh bloom to the King had seemed +pure derision. It was my love, not hers, that found its symbol in the +dying flower and the stalk robbed of its glory. She had said well, it +was as she said; I picked up what she flung and went on my way, hugging +my dead. + +In this manner then, as I, Simon the old, have shewn, was I, Simon the +young, brought back to my senses. It is all very long ago. + + + + +CHAPTER X + +JE VIENS, TU VIENS, IL VIENT + + +It pleased his Grace the Duke of Monmouth so to do all things that men +should heed his doing of them. Even in those days, and notwithstanding +certain transactions hereinbefore related, I was not altogether a fool, +and I had not been long about him before I detected this propensity and, +as I thought, the intention underlying it. To set it down boldly and +plainly, the more the Duke of Monmouth was in the eye of the nation, the +better the nation accustomed itself to regard him as the king's son; the +more it fell into the habit of counting him the king's son, the less +astonished and unwilling would it be if fate should place him on the +king's seat. Where birth is beyond reproach, dignity may be above +display; a defect in the first demands an ample exhibition of the +second. It was a small matter, this journey to Dover, yet, that he might +not go in the train of his father and the Duke of York, but make men +talk of his own going, he chose to start beforehand and alone; lest even +thus he should not win his meed of notice, he set all the inns and all +the hamlets on the road a-gossiping, by accomplishing the journey from +London to Canterbury, in his coach-and-six, between sunrise and sunset +of a single day. To this end it was needful that the coach should be +light; Lord Carford, now his Grace's inseparable companion, alone sat +with him, while the rest of us rode on horseback, and the Post supplied +us with relays where we were in want of them. Thus we went down +gallantly and in very high style, with his Grace much delighted at being +told that never had king or subject made such pace in his travelling +since the memory of man began. Here was reward enough for all the +jolting, the flogging of horses, and the pain of yokels pressed +unwillingly into pushing the coach with their shoulders through miry +places. + +As I rode, I had many things to think of. My woe I held at arm's length. +Of what remained, the intimacy between his Grace and my Lord Carford, +who were there in the coach together, occupied my mind most constantly. +For by now I had moved about in the world a little, and had learnt that +many counted Carford no better than a secret Papist, that he was held in +private favour, but not honoured in public, by the Duke of York, and +that communications passed freely between him and Arlington by the hand +of the secretary's good servant and my good friend Mr Darrell. Therefore +I wondered greatly at my lord's friendship with Monmouth, and at his +showing an attachment to the Duke which, as I had seen at Whitehall, +appeared to keep in check even the natural jealousy and resentment of a +lover. But at Court a man went wrong if he held a thing unlikely because +there was dishonour in it. There men were not ashamed to be spies +themselves, nor to use their wives in the same office. There to see no +evil was to shut your eyes. I determined to keep mine open in the +interests of my new patron, of an older friend, and perhaps of myself +also, for Carford's present civility scarcely masked his dislike. + +We reached Canterbury while the light of the long summer evening still +served, and clattered up the street in muddy bravery. The town was out +to see his Grace, and his Grace was delighted to be seen by the town. +If, of their courtesy, they chose to treat him as a Prince, he could +scarcely refuse their homage, and if he accepted it, it was better to +accept like one to the manner born than awkwardly; yet I wondered +whether my lord made a note in his aspiring brain of all that passed, +and how soon the Duke of York would know that a Prince of Wales, coming +to Canterbury, could have received no greater honour. Nay, and they +hailed him as the champion of the Church, with hits at the Romish faith, +which my lord heard with eyes downcast to the ground and a rigid smile +carved on his face. It was all a forecast of what was one day to be; +perhaps to the hero of it a suggestion of what some day might be. At +least he was radiant over it, and carried Carford off with him into his +apartment in the merriest mood. He did not invite me to join his party, +and I was well content to be left to wander for an hour in the quiet +close of the great cathedral. For let me say that a young man who has +been lately crossed in love is in a better mood for most unworldly +meditation, than he is likely to be before or after. And if he would not +be taken too strictly at his word in all he says to himself then, why, +who would, pray, and when? + +It was not my fault, but must be imputed to our nature, that in time my +stomach cried out angrily at my heart, and I returned to the inn, +seeking supper. His Grace was closeted with my lord, and I turned into +the public room, desiring no other company than what should lie on my +plate. But my host immediately made me aware that I must share my meal +and the table with a traveller who had recently arrived and ordered a +repast. This gentleman, concerning whom the host seemed in some +perplexity, had been informed that the Duke of Monmouth was in the +house, but had shown neither excitement at the news nor surprise, nor, +to the host's great scandal, the least desire for a sight of his Grace. +His men-servants, of whom he had two, seemed tongue-tied, so that the +host doubted if they had more than a few phrases of English, and set the +whole party down for Frenchmen. + +"Hasn't the gentleman given his name?" I asked. + +"No. He didn't offer it, and since he flung down money enough for his +entertainment I had no cause to ask it." + +"None," I remarked, "unless a man may be allowed more curiosity than a +beast. Stir yourself about supper," and walking in, I saluted, with all +the courtesy at my command, a young gentleman of elegant appearance (so +far as I could judge of him in traveller's garb) who sat at the table. +His greetings equalled mine in politeness, and we fell into talk on +different matters, he using the English language, which he spoke with +remarkable fluency, although evidently as a foreigner. His manner was +easy and assured, and I took it for no more than an accident that his +pistol lay ready to his hand, beside a small case or pocket-book of +leather on the table. He asked me my business, and I told him simply +that I was going in the Duke's train to Dover. + +"Ah, to meet Madame the Duchess of Orleans?" said he. "I heard of her +coming before I left France. Her visit, sir, will give great pleasure to +the King her brother." + +"More, if report speaks true, than to the Prince her husband," said I +with a laugh. For the talk at Court was that the Duke of Orleans hated +to let his wife out of his sight, while she for her part hated to be in +it. Both had their reasons, I do not doubt. + +"Perhaps," he answered with a shrug. "But it's hard to know the truth +in these matters. I am myself acquainted with many gentlemen at the +French Court, and they have much to say, but I believe little of it." + +Though I might commend his prudence, I was not encouraged to pursue the +topic, and, seeking a change of conversation, I paid him a compliment on +his mastery of English, hazarding a suggestion that he must have passed +some time in this country. + +"Yes," he replied, "I was in London for a year or more a little while +ago." + +"Your English puts my French to the blush," I laughed, "else hospitality +would bid me use your language." + +"You speak French?" he asked. "I confess it is easier to me." + +"Only a little, and that learnt from merchants, not at Court." For +traders of all nations had come from time to time to my uncle's house at +Norwich. + +"But I believe you speak very well," he insisted politely. "Pray let me +judge of your skill for myself." + +I was about to oblige him, when a loud dispute arose outside, French +ejaculations mingling with English oaths. Then came a scuffle. With a +hurried apology, the gentleman sprang to his feet and rushed out. I went +on with my supper, supposing that his servants had fallen into some +altercation with the landlord and that the parties could not make one +another understand. My conjecture was confirmed when the traveller +returned, declaring that the quarrel arose over the capacity of a +measure of wine and had been soon arranged. But then, with a little cry +of vexation, he caught up the pocket-book from the table and darted a +quick glance of suspicion at me. I was more amazed than angry, and my +smile caused him confusion, for he saw that I had detected his fear. +Thinking him punished enough for his rudeness (although it might find +some excuse in the indifferent honesty of many who frequented the roads +in the guise of travellers) I relieved him by resuming our conversation, +saying with a smile, + +"In truth my French is a school-boy's French. I can tell the parts of +the verb _J'aime, tu aimes, il aime;_ it goes so far, sir, and no +farther." + +"Not far in speech, though often far enough in act," he laughed. + +"Truly," said I with a sigh. + +"Yet I swear you do yourself injustice. Is there no more?" + +"A little more of the same sort, sir." And, casting about for another +phrase with which to humour him, I took the first that came to my +tongue; leaning my arms on the table (for I had finished eating), I said +with a smile, "Well, what say you to this? This is something to know, +isn't it? _Je viens, tu viens, il vient._" + +As I live, he sprang to his feet with a cry of alarm! His hand darted to +his breast where he had stowed the pocket-book; he tore it out and +examined the fastening with furious haste and anxiety. I sat struck +still with wonder; the man seemed mad. He looked at me now, and his +glance was full of deepest suspicion. He opened his mouth to speak, but +words seemed to fail him; he held out the leathern case towards me. +Strange as was the question that his gesture put I could not doubt it. + +"I haven't touched the book," said I. "Indeed, sir, only your visible +agitation can gain you pardon for the suggestion." + +"Then how--how?" he muttered. + +"You pass my understanding, sir," said I in petulant amusement. "I say +in jest 'I come, thou comest, he comes,' and the words act on you like +abracadabra and the blackest of magic. You don't, I presume, carry a +hornbook of French in your case; and if you do, I haven't robbed you of +it." + +He was turning the little case over and over in his hands, again +examining the clasps of it. His next freak was to snatch his pistol and +look to the priming. I burst out laughing, for his antics seemed absurd. +My laughter cooled him, and he made a great effort to regain his +composure. But I began to rally him. + +"Mayn't a man know how to say in French 'He comes' without stealing the +knowledge from your book, sir?" I asked. "You do us wrong if you think +that so much is known to nobody in England." + +He glared at me like a man who hears a jest, but cannot tell whether it +conceals earnest or not. + +"Open the case, sir," I continued in raillery. "Make sure all is there. +Come, you owe me that much." + +To my amazement he obeyed me. He opened the case and searched through +certain papers which it contained; at the end he sighed as though in +relief, yet his suspicious air did not leave him. + +"Now perhaps, sir," said I, squaring my elbows, "you'll explain the +comedy." + +That he could not do. The very impossibility of any explanation showed +that I had, in the most unexpected fashion, stumbled on some secret with +him even as I had before with Darrell. Was his secret Darrell's or his +own, the same or another? What it was I could not tell, but for certain +there it was. He had no resource but to carry the matter with a high +hand, and to this he betook himself with the readiness of his nation. + +"You ask an explanation, sir?" he cried. "There's nothing to explain, +and if there were, I give explanations when I please, and not to every +fellow who chooses to ask them of me." + +"I come, thou comest, he comes,--'tis a very mysterious phrase," said I. +"I can't tell what it means. And if you won't tell me, sir, I must ask +others." + +"You'll be wiser to ask nobody," he said menacingly. + +"Nay, I shall be no wiser if I ask nobody," I retorted with a smile. + +"Yet you'll tell nobody of what has passed," said he, advancing towards +me with the plain intention of imposing his will on me by fear, since +persuasion failed. I rose to my feet and answered, mimicking his +insolent words, + +"I give promises, sir, when I please, and not to every fellow who +chooses to ask them of me." + +"You shall give me your promise before you leave this room," he cried. + +His voice had been rising in passion and was now loud and fierce. +Whether the sound of it had reached the room above, or whether the Duke +and Carford had grown weary of one another, I do not know, but as the +French gentleman uttered this last threat Carford opened the door, stood +aside to let his Grace enter, and followed himself. As they came in, we +were in a most hostile attitude; for the Frenchman's pistol was in his +hand, and my hand had flown to the hilt of my sword. The Duke looked at +us in astonishment. + +"Why, what's this, gentlemen?" he said. "Mr Dale, are you at variance +with this gentleman?" But before I had time to answer him, he had +stepped forward and seen the Frenchman's face. "Why, here is M. de +Fontelles!" he cried in surprise. "I am very pleased to see you, sir, +again in England. Carford, here is M. de Fontelles. You were acquainted +with him when he was in the suite of the French Ambassador? You carry a +message, sir?" + +I listened keenly to all that the Duke's words told me. M. de Fontelles +bowed low, but his confusion was in no way abated, and he made no answer +to his Grace's question. The Duke turned to me, saying with some +haughtiness, + +"This gentleman is a friend of mine, Mr Dale. Pray why was your hand on +your sword?" + +"Because the gentleman's pistol was in his hand, sir." + +"You appear always to be very ready for a quarrel, Mr Dale," said the +Duke, with a glance at Carford. "Pray, what's the dispute?" + +"I'll tell your Grace the whole matter," said I readily enough, for I +had nothing to blame myself with. + +"No, I won't have it told," cried M. de Fontelles. + +"It's my pleasure to hear it," said the Duke coldly. + +"Well, sir, it was thus," said I, with a candid air. "I protested to +this gentleman that my French was sadly to seek; he was polite enough to +assure me that I spoke it well. Upon this I owned to some small +knowledge, and for an example I said to him, '_J'aime, tu aimes, il +aime_.' He received the remark, sir, with the utmost amiability." + +"He could do no less," said the Duke with a smile. + +"But he would have it that this didn't exhaust my treasure of learning. +Therefore, after leaving me for a moment to set straight a difference +that had arisen between his servants and our host, he returned, put away +a leathern case that he had left on the table (concerning which indeed +he seemed more uneasy than would be counted courteous here in England, +seeing that I had been all the while alone in the room with it), and +allowed me to resume my exhibition of French-speaking. To humour him and +to pass away the hour during which I was deprived of the pleasure of +attending your Grace----" + +"Yes, yes, Mr Dale. Don't delay in order to compliment me," said the +Duke, smiling still. + +"I leant across the table, sir, and I made him a speech that sent him, +to all seeming, half-way out of his senses; for he sprang up, seized his +case, looked at the fastenings, saw to the priming of his pistol, and +finally presumed to exact from me a promise that I would consult nobody +as to the perplexity into which this strange behaviour of his had flung +me. To that I demurred, and hence the quarrel with which I regret most +humbly that your Grace should have been troubled." + +"I'm obliged to you, Mr Dale. But what was this wonder-working phrase?" + +"Why, sir, just the first that came into my head. I said to the +gentleman--to M. de Fontelles, as I understand him to be called--I said +to him softly and gently--_Je viens, tu viens_----" + +The Duke seized me by the arm, with a sudden air of excitement. Carford +stepped forward and stood beside him. + +"_Je viens, tu viens_.... Yes! And any more?" cried the Duke. + +"Yes, your Grace," I answered, again amazed. "I completed what +grammarians call the Singular Number by adding '_Il vient;_' +whereupon--but I have told you." + +"_Il vient?_" cried the Duke and Carford all in a breath. + +"_Il vient_," I repeated, thinking now that all the three had run mad. +Carford screened his mouth with his hand and whispered in the Duke's +ear. The Duke nodded and made some answer. Both seemed infinitely +stirred and interested. M. de Fontelles had stood in sullen silence by +the table while I told the story of our quarrel; now his eyes were fixed +intently on the Duke's face. + +"But why," said I, "that simple phrase worked such strange agitation in +the gentleman, your Grace's wisdom may discover. I am at a loss." + +Still Carford whispered, and presently the Duke said, + +"Come, gentlemen, you've fallen into a foolish quarrel where no quarrel +need have come. Pray be friends again." + +M. de Fontelles drew himself up stiffly. + +"I asked a promise of that gentleman, and he refused it me," he said. + +"And I asked an explanation of that gentleman, and he refused it me," +said I, just as stiffly. + +"Well, then, Mr Dale shall give his promise to me. Will that be +agreeable to you, Mr Dale?" + +"I'm at your Grace's commands, in all things," I answered, bowing. + +"And you'll tell nobody of M. de Fontelles' agitation?" + +"If your Grace pleases. To say the truth, I don't care a fig for his +fierceness. But the explanation, sir?" + +"Why, to make all level," answered the Duke, smiling and fixing his gaze +upon the Frenchman, "M. de Fontelles will give his explanation to me." + +"I cry agreed, your Grace!" said I. "Come, let him give it." + +"To me, Mr Dale, not to you," smiled the Duke. + +"What, am I not to hear why he was so fierce with me?" + +"You don't care a fig for his fierceness, Mr Dale," he reminded me, +laughing. + +I saw that I was caught, and had the sense to show no annoyance, +although I must confess to a very lively curiosity. + +"Your Grace wishes to be alone with M. de Fontelles?" I asked readily +and deferentially. + +"For a little while, if you'll give us leave," he answered, but he added +to Carford, "No, you needn't move, Carford." + +So I made my bow and left them, not well pleased, for my brain was on +the rack to discover what might be the secret which hung on that +mysterious phrase, and which I had so nearly surprised from M. de +Fontelles. + +"The gist of it," said I to myself, as I turned to the kitchen, "lies, +if I am not mistaken, in the third member. For when I had said _Je +viens, tu viens_, the Duke interrupted me, crying, 'Any more?'" + +I had made for the kitchen since there was no other room open to me, and +I found it tenanted by the French servants of M. de Fontelles. Although +peace had been made between them and the host, they sat in deep +dejection; the reason was plain to see in two empty glasses and an empty +bottle that stood on a table between them. Kindliness, aided, it may be, +by another motive, made me resolve to cure their despondency. + +"Gentlemen," said I in French, going up to them, "you do not drink!" + +They rose, bowing, but I took a third chair between them and motioned +them to be seated. + +"We have not the wherewithal, sir," said one with a wistful smile. + +"The thing is mended as soon as told," I cried, and, calling the host, I +bade him bring three bottles. "A man is more at home with his own +bottle," said I. + +With the wine came new gaiety, and with gaiety a flow of speech. M. de +Fontelles would have admired the fluency with which I discoursed with +his servants, they telling me of travelling in their country, I +describing the incidents of the road in England. + +"There are rogues enough on the way in both countries, I'll warrant," I +laughed. "But perhaps you carry nothing of great value and laugh at +robbers?" + +"Our spoil would make a robber a poor meal, sir; but our master is in a +different plight." + +"Ah! He carries treasure?" + +"Not in money, sir," answered one. The other nudged him, as though to +bid him hold his tongue. + +"Come, fill your glasses," I cried, and they obeyed very readily. + +"Well, men have met their death between here and London often enough +before now," I pursued meditatively, twisting my glass of wine in my +fingers. "But with you for his guard, M. de Fontelles should be safe +enough." + +"We're charged to guard him with our lives, and not leave him till he +comes to the Ambassador's house." + +"But these rogues hunt sometimes in threes and fours," said I. "You +might well lose one of your number." + +"We're cheap, sir," laughed one. "The King of France has many of us." + +"But if your master were the one?" + +"Even then provision is made." + +"What? Could you carry his message--for if his treasure isn't money, I +must set it down as tidings--to the Ambassador." + +They looked at one another rather doubtfully. But I was not behindhand +in filling their glasses. + +"Still we should go on, even without _Monsieur_," said one. + +"But to what end?" I cried in feigned derision. + +"Why, we too have a message." + +"Indeed. Can you carry the King's message?" + +"None better, sir," said the shorter of the pair, with a shrewd twinkle +in his eye. "For we don't understand it." + +"Is it difficult then?" + +"Nay, it's so simple as to see without meaning." + +"What, so simple--but your bottle is empty! Come, another?" + +"Indeed no, _Monsieur_." + +"A last bottle between us! I'll not be denied." And I called for a +fourth. + +When we were well started on the drinking of it, I asked carelessly, + +"And what's your message?" + +But neither the wine nor the negligence of my question had quite lulled +their caution to sleep. They shook their heads, and laughed, saying, + +"We're forbidden to tell that." + +"Yet, if it be so simple as to have no meaning, what harm in telling +it?" + +"But orders are orders, and we're soldiers," answered the shrewd short +fellow. + +The idea had been working in my brain, growing stronger and stronger +till it reached conviction. I determined now to put it to the proof. + +"Tut," said I. "You make a pretty secret of it, and I don't blame you. +But I can guess your riddle. Listen. If anything befell M. de Fontelles, +which God forbid----" + +"Amen, amen," they murmured with a chuckle. + +"You two, or if fate left but one, that one, would ride on at his best +speed to London, and there seek out the Ambassador of the Most Christian +King. Isn't it so?" + +"So much, sir, you might guess from what we've said." + +"Ay, ay, I claim no powers of divination. Yet I'll guess a little more. +On being admitted to the presence of the Ambassador, he would relate the +sad fate of his master, and would then deliver his message, and that +message would be----" I drew my chair forward between them and laid a +finger on the arm of each. "That message," said I, "would be just like +this--and indeed it's very simple, and seems devoid of all rational +meaning: _Je viens_." They started. "_Tu viens._" They gaped. "_Il +vient_," I cried triumphantly, and their chairs shot back as they sprang +to their feet, astonishment vivid on their faces. For me, I sat there +laughing in sheer delight at the excellence of my aim and the shrewdness +of my penetration. + +What they would have said, I do not know. The door was flung open and M. +de Fontelles appeared. He bowed coldly to me and vented on his servants +the anger from which he was not yet free, calling them drunken knaves +and bidding them see to their horses and lie down in the stable, for he +must be on his way by daybreak. With covert glances at me which implored +silence and received the answer of a reassuring nod, they slunk away. I +bowed to M. de Fontelles with a merry smile; I could not conceal my +amusement and did not care how it might puzzle him. I strode out of the +kitchen and made my way up the stairs. I had to pass the Duke's +apartment. The light still burned there, and he and Carford were sitting +at the table. I put my head in. + +"If your Grace has no need of me, I'll seek my bed," said I, mustering a +yawn. + +"No need at all," he answered. "Good-night to you, Simon." But then he +added, "You'll keep your promise to me?" + +"Your Grace may depend on me." + +"Though in truth I may tell you that the whole affair is nothing; it's +no more than a matter of gallantry, eh, Carford?" + +"No more," said my Lord Carford. + +"But such matters are best not talked of." + +I bowed as he dismissed me, and pursued my way to my room. A matter of +gallantry might, it seemed, be of moment to the messengers of the King +of France. I did not know what to make of the mystery, but I knew there +was a mystery. + +"And it turns," said I to myself, "on those little words '_Il vient_.' +Who is he? Where comes he? And to what end? Perhaps I shall learn these +things at Dover." + +There is this to be said. A man's heart aches less when his head is +full. On that night I did not sigh above half my usual measure. + + + + +CHAPTER XI + +THE GENTLEMAN FROM CALAIS + + +Good fortune and bad had combined to make me somewhat more of a figure +in the eyes of the Court than was warranted by my abilities or my +station. The friend of Mistress Gwyn and the favourite of the Duke of +Monmouth (for this latter title his Grace's signal kindness soon +extorted from the amused and the envious) was a man whom great folk +recognised, and to whom small folk paid civility. Lord Carford had +become again all smiles and courtesy; Darrell, who arrived in the +Secretary's train, compensated in cordiality for what he lacked in +confidence; my Lord Arlington himself presented me in most flattering +terms to the French King's envoy, M. Colbert de Croissy, who, in his +turn, greeted me with a warmth and regarded me with a curiosity that +produced equal gratification and bewilderment in my mind. Finally, the +Duke of Monmouth insisted on having me with him in the Castle, though +the greater part of the gentlemen attached to the Royal and noble +persons were sent to lodge in the town for want of accommodation within +the walls. My private distress, from which I recovered but slowly, or, +to speak more properly, suppressed with difficulty, served to prevent me +from becoming puffed up with the conceit which this success might well +have inspired. + +The first part of Betty Nasroth's prophecy now stood fulfilled, ay, as I +trusted, utterly finished and accomplished; the rest tarried. I had +guessed that there was a secret, what it was remained unknown to me and, +as I soon suspected, to people more important. The interval before the +arrival of the Duchess of Orleans was occupied in many councils and +conferences; at most of them the Duke of Monmouth was present, and he +told me no more than all the Court conjectured when he said that Madame +d'Orleans came with a project for a new French Alliance and a fresh war +with the Dutch. But there were conferences at which he was not present, +nor the Duke of Buckingham, but only the King, his brother (so soon as +his Royal Highness joined us from London), the French Envoy, and +Clifford and Arlington. Of what passed at these my master knew nothing, +though he feigned knowledge; he would be restless when I, having used my +eyes, told him that the King had been with M. Colbert de Croissy for two +hours, and that the Duke of York had walked on the wall above an hour in +earnest conversation with the Treasurer. He felt himself ignored, and +poured out his indignation unreservedly to Carford. Carford would frown +and throw his eyes towards me, as though to ask if I were to hear these +things, but the Duke refused his suggestion. Nay, once he said in jest: + +"What I say is as safe with him as with you, my lord, or safer." + +I wondered to see Carford indignant. + +"Why do you say safer, sir?" he asked haughtily, while the colour on his +cheeks was heightened. "Is any man's honour more to be trusted than +mine?" + +"Ah, man, I meant nothing against your honour; but Simon here has a +discretion that heaven does not give to everyone." + +Now, when I see a man so sensitive to suspicion as to find it in every +careless word, I am set thinking whether he may not have some cause to +fear suspicion. Honesty expects no accusation. Carford's readiness to +repel a charge not brought caught my notice, and made me ponder more on +certain other conferences to which also his Grace my patron was a +stranger. More than once had I found Arlington and Carford together, +with M. Colbert in their company, and on the last occasion of such an +encounter Carford had requested me not to mention his whereabouts to the +Duke, advancing the trivial pretext that he should have been engaged on +his Grace's business. His Grace was not our schoolmaster. But I was +deceived, most amiably deceived, and held my tongue as he prayed. Yet I +watched him close, and soon, had a man told me that the Duke of York +thought it well to maintain a friend of his own in his nephew's +confidence, I would have hazarded that friend's name without fear of +mistake. + +So far the affair was little to me, but when Mistress Barbara came from +London the day before Madame was to arrive, hardly an hour passed before +I perceived that she also, although she knew it not, had her part to +play. I cannot tell what reward they offered Carford for successful +service; if a man who sells himself at a high price be in any way less a +villain than he who takes a penny, I trust that the price was high; for +in pursuance of the effort to obtain Monmouth's confidence and an +ascendency over him, Carford made use of the lady whom he had courted, +and, as I believed, still courted, for his own wife. He threw her in +Monmouth's way by tricks too subtle for her to detect, but plain to an +attentive observer. I knew from her father that lately he had again +begged her hand, and that she had listened with more show of favour. Yet +he was the Duke's very humble servant in all the plans which that +headstrong young man now laid against the lady's peace and honour. Is +there need to state the scheme more plainly? In those days a man might +rise high and learn great secrets, if he knew when to shut his eyes and +how to knock loud before he entered the room. + +I should have warned her. It is true; but the mischief lay in the fact +that by no means could I induce her to exchange a word with me. She was +harder by far to me than she had shewn herself in London. Perhaps she +had heard how I had gone to Chelsea; but whether for good reason or bad, +my crime now seemed beyond pardon. Stay; perhaps my condition was below +her notice; or sin and condition so worked together that she would have +nothing of me, and I could do nothing but look on with outward calm and +hidden sourness while the Duke plied her with flatteries that soon grew +to passionate avowals, and Carford paid deferential suit when his +superior was not in the way. She triumphed in her success as girls will, +blind to its perils as girls are; and Monmouth made no secret of his +hopes of success, as he sat between Carford's stolid face and my +downcast eyes. + +"She's the loveliest creature in the world," he would cry. "Come, drink +a toast to her!" I drank silently, while Carford led him on to +unrestrained boasts and artfully fanned his passion. + +At last--it was the evening of the day before Madame was to come--I met +her where she could not avoid me, by the Constable's Tower, and alone. I +took my courage in my hands and faced her, warning her of her peril in +what delicate words I could find. Alas, I made nothing of it. A scornful +jest at me and my righteousness (of which, said she, all London had been +talking a little while back) was the first shot from her battery. The +mention of the Duke's name brought a blush and a mischievous smile, as +she answered: + +"Shouldn't I make a fine Duchess, Mr Dale?" + +"Ay, if he made you one," said I with gloomy bluntness. + +"You insult me, sir," she cried, and the flush on her face deepened. + +"Then I do in few words what his Grace does in many," I retorted. + +I went about it like a dolt, I do not doubt. For she flew out at me, +demanding in what esteem I held her, and in what her birth fell short of +Anne Hyde's--"who is now Duchess of York, and in whose service I have +the honour to be." + +"Is that your pattern?" I asked. "Will the King interpose for you as he +did for the daughter of Lord Clarendon?" + +She tossed her head, answering: + +"Perhaps so much interference will not be needed." + +"And does my Lord Carford share these plans of yours?" I asked with a +sneer. + +The question touched her; she flushed again, but gave way not an inch. + +"Lord Carford has done me much honour, as you know," said she, "but he +wouldn't stand in my way here." + +"Indeed he doesn't!" I cried. "Nor in his Grace's!" + +"Have you done, sir?" says she most scornfully. + +"I have done, madame," said I, and on she swept. + +"Yet you shall come to no harm," I added to myself as I watched her +proud free steps carry her away. She also, it seemed, had her dream; I +hoped that no more than hurt pride and a heart for the moment sore would +come of it. Yet if the flatteries of princes pleased, she was to be +better pleased soon, and the Duke of Monmouth seem scarcely higher to +her than Simon Dale. + +Then came Madame in the morning from Dunkirk, escorted by the +Vice-Admiral, and met above a mile from the coast by the King in his +barge; the Duke of York, Prince Rupert, and my Duke (on whom, I +attended) accompanying His Majesty. Madame seemed scarcely as beautiful +as I had heard, although of a very high air and most admirable carriage +and address; and my eyes, prone, I must confess, to seek the fairest +face, wandered from hers to a lady who stood near, gifted with a +delicate and alluring, yet childish, beauty, who gazed on the gay scene +with innocent interest and a fresh enjoyment. Madame, having embraced +her kinsmen, presented the lady to His Majesty by the name of +Mademoiselle Louise Renee de Perrencourt de Querouaille (the name was +much shortened by our common folk in later days), and the King kissed +her hand, saying that he was rejoiced to see her--as indeed he seemed to +be, if a man might judge by the time he spent in looking at her, and +the carelessness with which he greeted the others in attendance on +Madame. + +"And these are all who come with you, sister?" he asked. + +She answered him clearly, almost loudly: + +"Except a gentleman who is to join me from Calais to-morrow, with +messages from the King." + +I heard no more, being forced to move away and leave the royal group +alone. I had closely examined all who came. For in the presence of +Madame I read _Je viens_, in our King's, _Tu viens_; but I saw none +whose coming would make the tidings _Il vient_ worthy of a special +messenger to London. But there was a gentleman to arrive from Calais. I +had enough curiosity to ask M. le Comte d'Albon, who (with his wife) +accompanied Madame and stood by me on deck as we returned to land, who +this gentleman might be. + +"He is called M. de Perrencourt," the Count replied, "and is related +remotely to the lady whom you saw with Madame." + +I was disappointed, or rather checked. Was M. de Perrencourt so +important that they wrote _Il vient_ about him and sent the tidings to +London? + +After some time, when we were already coming near to shore, I observed +Madame leave the King and go walking to and fro on the deck in company +with Monmouth. He was very merry and she was very gracious; I amused +myself with watching so handsome and well-matched a pair. I did not +wonder that my Duke was in a mighty good temper, for, even had she been +no Princess, her company was such as would please a man's pride and +content his fancy. So I leant against the mast, thinking it a pity that +they troubled their pretty heads with Dutch wars and the like tiresome +matters, and were not content to ornament the world, leaving its rule to +others. But presently I saw the Duke point towards me, and Madame's +glance follow his finger; he talked to her again and both laughed. Then, +just as we came by the landing-stage, she laid her hand on his arm, as +though in command. He laughed again, shrugging his shoulders, then +raised his hand and beckoned to me. Now I, while watching, had been most +diligent in seeming not to watch, and it needed a second and +unmistakable signal from his Grace before I hastened up, hat in hand. +Madame was laughing, and, as I came, I heard her say, "Yes, but I will +speak to him." The Duke, with another shrug, bade me come near, and in +due form presented me. She gave me her hand to kiss, saying with a smile +that showed her white teeth, + +"Sir, I asked to be shown the most honest man in Dover, and my cousin +Monmouth has brought you to me." + +I perceived that Monmouth, seeking how to entertain her, had not +scrupled to press me into his service. This I could not resent, and +since I saw that she was not too dull to be answered in the spirit of +her address, I made her a low bow and said: + +"His Grace, Madame, conceived you to mean in Dover Castle. The townsmen, +I believe, are very honest." + +"And you, though the most honest in the Castle, are not very honest?" + +"I take what I find, Madame," I answered. + +"So M. Colbert tells me," she said with a swift glance at me. "Yet it's +not always worth taking." + +"I keep it, in case it should become so," I answered, for I guessed that +Colbert had told her of my encounter with M. de Fontelles; if that were +so, she might have a curiosity to see me without the added inducement of +Monmouth's malicious stories. + +"Not if it be a secret? No man keeps that," she cried. + +"He may, if he be not in love, Madame." + +"But are you that monster, Mr Dale?" said she. "Shame on the ladies of +my native land! Yet I'm glad! For, if you're not in love, you'll be more +ready to serve me, perhaps." + +"Mr Dale, Madame, is not incapable of falling in love," said Monmouth +with a bow. "Don't try his virtue too much." + +"He shall fall in love then with Louise," she cried. + +Monmouth made a grimace, and the Duchess suddenly fell to laughing, as +she glanced over her shoulder towards the King, who was busily engaged +in conversation with Mlle. de Querouaille. + +"Indeed, no!" I exclaimed with a fervour that I had not intended. No +more of that part of Betty Nasroth's prophecy for me, and the King's +attentions were already particular. "But if I can serve your Royal +Highness, I am body and soul at your service." + +"Body and soul?" said she. "Ah, you mean saving--what is it? Haven't you +reservations?" + +"His Grace has spared me nothing," said I, with a reproachful glance at +Monmouth. + +"The more told of you the better you're liked, Simon," said he kindly. +"See, Madame, we're at the landing, and there's a crowd of loyal folk to +greet you." + +"I know the loyalty of the English well," said she in a low voice and +with a curling lip. "They have their reservations like Mr Dale. Ah, +you're speaking, Mr Dale?" + +"To myself, Madame," I answered, bowing profoundly. She laughed, shaking +her head at me, and passed on. I was glad she did not press me, for what +I had said was, "Thank God," and I might likely enough have told a lie +if she had put me to the question. + +That night the King entertained his sister at a great banquet in the +hall of the Castle, where there was much drinking of toasts, and much +talk of the love that the King of France had for the King of England, +and our King for the other King, and we for the French (whereas we hated +them) and they for us (although they wasted no kindness on us); but at +least every man got as much wine as he wanted, and many of them more +than they had fair occasion for; and among these last I must count the +Duke of Monmouth. For after the rest had risen from table he sat there +still, calling Carford to join him, and even bidding me sit down by his +side. Carford seemed in no haste to get him away, although very anxious +to relieve me of my post behind his chair, but at last, by dint of +upbraiding them both, I prevailed on Carford to offer his arm and the +Duke to accept it, while I supported him on the other side. Thus we set +out for his Grace's quarters, making a spectacle sad enough to a +moralist, but too ordinary at Court for any remark to be excited by it. +Carford insisted that he could take the Duke alone; I would not budge. +My lord grew offensive, hinting of busybodies who came between the Duke +and his friends. Pushed hard, I asked the Duke himself if I should leave +him. He bade me stay, swearing that I was an honest fellow and no +Papist, as were some he knew. I saw Carford start; his Grace saw nothing +save the entrance of his chamber, and that not over-plainly. But we got +him in, and into a seat, and the door shut. Then he called for more +wine, and Carford at once brought it to him and pledged him once and +again, Monmouth drinking deep. + +"He's had more than he can carry already," I whispered. Carford turned +straight to the Duke, crying, "Mr Dale here says that your Grace is +drunk." He made nothing by the move, for the Duke answered +good-humouredly, + +"Truly I am drunk, but in the legs only, my good Simon. My head is +clear, clear as daylight, or the----" He looked round cunningly, and +caught each of us by the arm. "We're good Protestants here?" he asked +with a would-be shrewd, wine-muddled glance. + +"Sound and true, your Grace," said Carford. Then he whispered to me, +"Indeed I think he's ill. Pray run for the King's physician, Mr Dale." + +"Nay, he'd do well enough if he were alone with me. If you desire the +physician's presence, my lord, he's easy to find." + +I cared not a jot for Carford's anger, and was determined not to give +ground. But we had no more time for quarrelling. + +"I am as loyal--as loyal to my father as any man in the kingdom," said +the Duke in maudlin confidence. "But you know what's afoot?" + +"A new war with the Dutch, I'm told, sir," said I. + +"A fig for the Dutch! Hush, we must speak low, there may be Papists +about. There are some in the Castle, Carford. Hush, hush! Some say my +uncle's one, some say the Secretary's one. Gentlemen, I--I say no more. +Traitors have said that my father is----" + +Carford interrupted him. + +"Don't trouble your mind with these slanders, sir," he urged. + +"I won't believe it. I'll stand by my father. But if the Duke of +York--But I'll say no more." His head fell on his breast. But in a +moment he sprang to his feet, crying, "But I'm a Protestant. Yes, and +I'm the King's son." He caught Carford by the arm, whispering, "Not a +word of it. I'm ready. We know what's afoot. We're loyal to the King; we +must save him. But if we can't--if we can't, isn't there one +who--who----?" + +He lost his tongue for an instant. We stood looking at him, till he +spoke again. "One who would be a Protestant King?" + +He spoke the last words loud and fiercely; it was the final effort, and +he sank back in his chair in a stupor. Carford gave a hasty glance at +his face. + +"I'll go for the physician," he cried. "His Grace may need +blood-letting." + +I stepped between him and the door as he advanced. + +"His Grace needs nothing," said I, "except the discretion of his +friends. We've heard foolish words that we should not have heard +to-night, my lord." + +"I am sure they're safe with you," he answered. + +"And with you?" I retorted quickly. + +He drew himself up haughtily. + +"Stand aside, sir, and let me pass." + +"Where are you going?" + +"To fetch the physician. I'll answer none of your questions." + +I could not stop him without an open brawl, and that I would not +encounter, for it could lead only to my own expulsion. Yet I was sure +that he would go straight to Arlington, and that every word the Duke had +spoken would be carried to York, and perhaps to the King, before next +morning. The King would be informed, if it were thought possible to +prejudice him against his son; York, at least, would be warned of the +mad scheme which was in the young Duke's head. I drew aside and with a +surly bow let Carford pass. He returned my salutation with an equal +economy of politeness, and left me alone with Monmouth, who had now sunk +into a heavy and uneasy sleep. I roused him and got him to bed, glad to +think that his unwary tongue would be silent for a few hours at least. +Yet what he had said brought me nearer to the secret and the mystery. +There was indeed more afoot than the war with the Dutch. There was, if I +mistook not, a matter that touched the religion of the King. Monmouth, +whose wits were sharp enough, had gained scent of it; the wits went out +as the wine went in, and he blurted out what he suspected, robbing his +knowledge of all value by betraying its possession. Our best knowledge +lies in what we are not known to know. + +I repaired, thoughtful and disturbed, to my own small chamber, next the +Duke's; but the night was fine and I had no mind for sleep. I turned +back again and made my way on to the wall, where it faces towards the +sea. The wind was blowing fresh and the sound of the waves filled my +ears. No doubt the same sound hid the noise of my feet, for when I came +to the wall, I passed unheeded by three persons who stood in a group +together. I knew all and made haste to pass by; the man was the King +himself, the lady on his right was Mistress Barbara; in the third I +recognised Madame's lady, Louise de Querouaille. I proceeded some +distance farther till I was at the end of the wall nearest the sea. +There I took my stand, looking not at the sea but covertly at the little +group. Presently two of them moved away; the third curtseyed low but did +not accompany them. When they were gone, she turned and leant on the +parapet of the wall with clasped hands. Drawn by some impulse, I moved +towards her. She was unconscious of my approach until I came quite near +to her; then she turned on me a face stained with tears and pale with +agitation and alarm. I stood before her, speechless, and she found no +words in which to address me. I was too proud to force my company on +her, and made as though to pass with a bow; but her face arrested me. + +"What ails you, Mistress Barbara?" I cried impetuously. She smoothed her +face to composure as she answered me: + +"Nothing, sir." Then she added carelessly, "Unless it be that sometimes +the King's conversation is too free for my liking." + +"When you want me, I'm here," I said, answering not her words but the +frightened look that there was in her eyes. + +For an instant I seemed to see in her an impulse to trust me and to lay +bare what troubled her. The feeling passed; her face regained its +natural hue, and she said petulantly, + +"Why, yes, it seems fated that you should always be there, Simon, yet +Betty Nasroth said nothing of it." + +"It may be well for you that I'm here," I answered hotly; for her scorn +stirred me to say what I should have left unsaid. + +I do not know how she would have answered, for at the moment we heard a +shout from the watchman who stood looking over the sea. He hailed a boat +that came prancing over the waves; a light answered his signal. Who came +to the Castle? Barbara's eyes and mine sought the ship; we did not know +the stranger, but he was expected; for a minute later Darrell ran +quickly by us with an eager look on his face; with him was the Count +d'Albon, who had come with Madame, and Depuy, the Duke of York's +servant. They went by at the top of their speed and in visible +excitement. Barbara forgot her anger and haughtiness in fresh girlish +interest. + +"Who can it be?" she cried, coming so near to me that her sleeve touched +mine, and leaning over the wall towards where the ship's black hull was +to be seen far below in the moonlight by the jetty. + +"Doubtless it's the gentleman whom Madame expects," said I. + +Many minutes passed, but through them Barbara and I stood silent side by +side. Then the party came back through the gate, which had been opened +for them. Depuy walked first, carrying a small trunk; two or three +servants followed with more luggage; then came Darrell in company with a +short man who walked with a bold and confident air. The rest passed us, +and the last pair approached. Now Darrell saw Mistress Barbara and +doffed his hat to her. The new-comer did the like and more; he halted +immediately opposite to us and looked curiously at her, sparing a +curious glance for me. I bowed; she waited unmoved until the gentleman +said to Darrell, + +"Pray present me." + +"This, madame," said Darrell, in whose voice there was a ring of +excitement and tremulous agitation, "is M. de Perrencourt, who has the +honour of serving Her Royal Highness the Duchess. This lady, sir, is +Mistress Barbara Quinton, maid of honour to the Duchess of York, and now +in attendance on Madame." + +Barbara made a curtsey, M. de Perrencourt bowed. His eyes were fixed on +her face; he studied her openly and fearlessly, yet the regard was +difficult to resent, it was so calm, assured, and dignified. It seemed +beyond challenge, if not beyond reproach. I stood by in silence, angry +at a scrutiny so prolonged, but without title to interfere. + +"I trust, madame, that we shall be better acquainted," he said at last, +and with a lingering look at her face passed on. I turned to her; she +was gazing after him with eager eyes. My presence seemed forgotten; I +would not remind her of it; I turned away in silence, and hastened after +Darrell and his companion. The curve of the wall hid them from my sight, +but I quickened my pace; I gained on them, for now I heard their steps +ahead; I ran round the next corner, for I was ablaze with curiosity to +see more of this man, who came at so strange an hour and yet was +expected, who bore himself so loftily, and yet was but a +gentleman-in-waiting as I was. Round the next corner I should come in +sight of him. Round I went, and I came plump into the arms of my good +friend Darrell, who stood there, squarely across the path! + +"Whither away, Simon?" said he coldly. + +I halted, stood still, looked him in the face. He met my gaze with a +calm, self-controlled smile. + +"Why," said I, "I'm on my way to bed, Darrell. Let me pass, I beg you." + +"A moment later will serve," said he. + +"Not a moment," I replied testily, and caught him by the arm. He was +stiff as a rock, but I put out my strength and in another instant should +have thrown him aside. But he cried in a loud angry voice, + +"By the King's orders, no man is to pass this way." + +Amazed, I fell back. But over his head, some twenty yards from us, I saw +two men embracing one another warmly. Nobody else was near; Darrell's +eyes were fixed on me, and his hand detained me in an eager grasp. But I +looked hard at the pair there ahead of me; there was a cloud over the +moon now, in a second it passed. The next moment the two had turned +their backs and were walking off together. Darrell, seeing my fixed +gaze, turned also. His face was pale, as if with excitement, but he +spoke in cool, level tones. + +"It's only M. Colbert greeting M. de Perrencourt," said he. + +"Ah, of course!" I cried, turning to him with a smile. "But where did M. +Colbert get that Star?" For the glitter of the decoration had caught my +eye, as it sparkled in the moonlight. + +There was a pause before Darrell answered. Then he said, + +"The King gave him his own Star to-night, in compliment to Madame." + +And in truth M. Colbert wore that Star when he walked abroad next +morning, and professed much gratitude for it to the King. I have +wondered since whether he should not have thanked a humbler man. Had I +not seen the Star on the breast of the gentleman who embraced M. de +Perrencourt, should I have seen it on the breast of M. Colbert de +Croissy? In truth I doubt it. + + + + +CHAPTER XII + +THE DEFERENCE OF HIS GRACE THE DUKE + + +Certainly he had some strange ways, this M. de Perrencourt. It was not +enough for him to arrive by night, nor to have his meeting with M. +Colbert (whose Star Darrell made me observe most particularly next +morning) guarded from intruding eyes by the King's own order. He shewed +a predilection for darkness and was visible in the daytime only in +Madame's apartment, or when she went to visit the King. The other French +gentlemen and ladies manifested much curiosity concerning the town and +the neighbourhood, and with Madame and the Duke of Monmouth at their +head took part in many pleasant excursions. In a day or two the Queen +also and the Duchess of York came from London, and the doings grew more +gay and merry. But M. de Perrencourt was not to be tempted; no pastimes, +no jaunts allured him; he did not put his foot outside the walls of the +Castle, and was little seen inside it. I myself did not set eyes on him +for two days after my first sight of him; but after that I beheld him +fairly often, and the more I saw him the more I wondered. Of a truth +his retiring behaviour was dictated by no want of assurance nor by undue +modesty; he was not abashed in the presence of the great and bore +himself as composedly before the King as in the presence of a lackey. It +was plain, too, that he enjoyed Madame's confidence in no common degree, +for when affairs of State were discussed and all withdrew saving Madame, +her brothers and the Secretary (even the Duke of Monmouth not being +admitted), the last we saw as we made our bows and backed out of the +doorway would be M. de Perrencourt standing in an easy and unconstrained +attitude behind Madame's chair and manifesting no overpowering sense of +the signal honour paid to him by the permission to remain. As may be +supposed, a theory sprang up to account for the curious regard this +gentleman commanded; it was put about (some said that Lord Arlington +himself gave his authority for the report) that M. de Perrencourt was +legal guardian to his cousin Mlle. de Querouaille, and that the King had +discovered special reasons for conciliating the gentleman by every +means, and took as much pains to please him as to gain favour with the +lady herself. Here was a good reason for M. de Perrencourt's +distinguished treatment, and no less for the composure and calm with +which M. de Perrencourt accepted it. To my mind, however, the manner of +M. de Perrencourt's arrival and the incident of M. Colbert's Star found +scarcely a sufficient explanation in this ingenious conjecture; yet the +story, thus circulated, was generally accepted and served its office of +satisfying curiosity and blunting question well enough. + +Again (for my curiosity would not be satisfied, nor the edge of my +questioning be turned)--what had the Duke of Monmouth to gain from M. de +Perrencourt? Something it seemed, or his conduct was most mysterious. He +cared nothing for Mlle. de Querouaille, and I could not suppose that the +mere desire to please his father would have weighed with him so strongly +as to make him to all appearance the humble servant of this French +gentleman. The thing was brought home most forcibly to my mind on the +third evening after M. de Perrencourt's arrival. A private conference +was held and lasted some hours; outside the closed doors we all paced to +and fro, hearing nothing save now and then Madame's clear voice, raised, +as it seemed, in exhortation or persuasion. The Duke, who was glad +enough to escape the tedium of State affairs but at the same time +visibly annoyed at his exclusion, sauntered listlessly up and down, +speaking to nobody. Perceiving that he did not desire my company, I +withdrew to a distance, and, having seated myself in a retired corner, +was soon lost in consideration of my own fortunes past and to come. The +hour grew late; the gentlemen and ladies of the Court, having offered +and accepted compliments and gallantries till invention and complaisance +alike were exhausted, dropped off one by one, in search of supper, +wine, or rest. I sat on in my corner. Nothing was to be heard save the +occasional voices of the two musketeers on guard on the steps leading +from the second storey of the keep to the State apartments. I knew that +I must move soon, for at night the gate on the stairs was shut. It was +another of the peculiar facts about M. de Perrencourt that he alone of +the gentlemen-in-waiting had been lodged within the precincts of the +royal quarters, occupying an apartment next to the Duke of York, who had +his sister Madame for his neighbour on the other side. The prolonged +conference was taking place in the King's cabinet farther along the +passage. + +Suddenly I heard steps on the stairs, the word of the night was asked, +and Monmouth's voice made answer "Saint Denis"; for just now everything +was French in compliment to Madame. The steps continued to ascend; the +light in the corridor was very dim, but a moment later I perceived +Monmouth and Carford. Carford's arm was through his Grace's, and he +seemed to be endeavouring to restrain him. Monmouth shook him off with a +laugh and an oath. + +"I'm not going to listen," he cried. "Why should I listen? Do I want to +hear the King praying to the Virgin?" + +"Silence, for God's sake, silence, your Grace," implored Carford. + +"That's what he does, isn't it? He, and the Queen's Chaplain, and +the----" + +"Pray, sir!" + +"And our good M. de Perrencourt, then?" He burst into a bitter laugh as +he mentioned the gentleman's name. + +I had heard more than was meant for my ears, and what was enough (if I +may use a distinction drawn by my old friend the Vicar) for my +understanding. I was in doubt whether to declare my presence or not. Had +Monmouth been alone, I would have shown myself directly, but I did not +wish Carford to be aware that I had overheard so much. I sat still a +moment longer in hesitation; then I uttered a loud yawn, groaned, +stretched myself, rose to my feet, and gave a sudden and very obvious +start, as I let my eyes fall on the Duke. + +"Why, Simon," he cried, "what brings you here?" + +"I thought your Grace was in the King's cabinet," I answered. + +"But you knew that I left them some hours since." + +"Yes, but having lost sight of your Grace, I supposed that you'd +returned, and while waiting for you I fell asleep." + +My explanation abundantly satisfied the Duke; Carford maintained a wary +silence. + +"We're after other game than conferences to-night," said Monmouth, +laughing again. "Go down to the hall and wait there for me, Simon. My +lord and I are going to pay a visit to the ladies of Madame and the +Duchess of York." + +I saw that he was merry with wine; Carford had been drinking too, but he +grew only more glum and malicious with his liquor. Neither their state +nor the hour seemed fitted for the visit the Duke spoke of, but I was +helpless, and with a bow took my way down the stairs to the hall below, +where I sat down on the steps that led up to one of the loop-holes. A +great chair, standing by the wall, served to hide me from observation. +For a few moments nothing occurred. Then I heard a loud burst of +laughter from above. Feet came running down the steps into the hall, and +a girl in a white dress darted across the floor. I heard her laugh, and +knew that she was Barbara Quinton. An instant later came Monmouth hot on +her heels, and imploring her in extravagant words not to be so cruel and +heartless as to fly from him. But where was Carford? I could only +suppose that my lord had the discretion to stay behind when the Duke of +Monmouth desired to speak with the lady whom my lord sought for his +wife. + +In my humble judgment, a very fine, large, and subtle volume might be +composed on the canons of eavesdropping--when a man may listen, when he +may not, and for how long he may, to what end, for what motives, in what +causes, and on what provocations. It may be that the Roman Divines, who, +as I understand, are greatly adept in the science of casuistry, have +accomplished already the task I indicate. I know not; at least I have +nowhere encountered the result of their labours. But now I sat still +behind the great chair and listened without doubt or hesitation. Yet how +long I could have controlled myself I know not, for his Grace made light +of scruples that night and set bounds at nought. At first Mistress +Barbara was merry with him, fencing and parrying, in confidence that he +would use no roughness nor an undue vehemence. But on he went; and +presently a note of alarm sounded in her voice as she prayed him to +suffer her to depart and return to the Duchess, who must have need of +her. + +"Nay, I won't let you go, sweet mistress. Rather, I can't let you go." + +"Indeed, sir, I must go," she said. "Come, I will call my Lord Carford, +to aid me in persuading your Grace." + +He laughed at the suggestion that a call for Carford would hinder him. + +"He won't come," he said; "and if he came, he would be my ally, not +yours." + +She answered now haughtily and coldly: + +"Sir, Lord Carford is a suitor for my hand. It is in your Grace's +knowledge that he is." + +"But he thinks a hand none the worse because I've kissed it," retorted +Monmouth. "You don't know how amiable a husband you're to have, Mistress +Barbara." + +I was on my feet now, and, peering round the chair which hid me from +them, I could see her standing against the wall, with Monmouth opposite +to her. He offered to seize her hand, but she drew it away sharply. +With a laugh he stepped nearer to her. A slight sound caught my ear, +and, turning my head, I saw Carford on the lowest step of the stairs; he +was looking at the pair, and a moment later stepped backwards, till he +was almost hidden from my sight, though I could still make out the shape +of his figure. A cry of triumph from Monmouth echoed low but intense +through the hall; he had caught the elusive hand and was kissing it +passionately. Barbara stood still and stiff. The Duke, keeping her hand +still in his, said mockingly: + +"You pretty fool, would you refuse fortune? Hark, madame, I am a King's +son." + +I saw no movement in her, but the light was dim. He went on, lowering +his voice a little, yet not much. + +"And I may be a King; stranger things have come to pass. Wouldn't you +like to be a Queen?" He laughed as he put the question; he lacked the +care or the cunning to make even a show of honesty. + +"Let me go," I heard her whisper in a strained, timid voice. + +"Well, for to-night you shall go, sweetheart, but not without a kiss, I +swear." + +She was frightened now and sought to propitiate him, saying gently and +with attempted lightness, + +"Your Grace has my hand prisoner. You can work your will on it." + +"Your hand! I mean your lips this time," he cried in audacious +insolence. He came nearer to her, his arm crept round her waist. I had +endured what I could, yes, and as long as I could; for I was persuaded +that I could serve her better by leaving her unaided for the moment. But +my limit was reached; I stepped out from behind the chair. But in an +instant I was back again. Monmouth had paused; in one hand he held +Barbara's hand, the other rested on her girdle, but he turned his head +and looked at the stairs. Voices had come from there; he had heard them +as I had, as Barbara had. + +"You can't pass out," had come in a blustering tone from Carford. + +"Stand aside, sir," was the answer in a calm, imperative voice. + +Carford hesitated for a single instant, then he seemed to shrink away, +making himself small and leaving free passage for a man who came down +the steps and walked confidently and briskly across the hall towards +where the Duke stood with Barbara. + +Above us, at the top of the stairs, there were the sound of voices and +the tread of feet. The conference was broken up and the parties to it +were talking in the passage on their way to regain their own apartments. +I paid no heed to them; my eyes were fixed on the intruder who came so +boldly and unabashed up to the Duke. I knew him now; he was M. de +Perrencourt, Madame's gentleman. + +Without wavering or pausing, straight he walked. Monmouth seemed turned +to stone; I could see his face set and rigid, although light failed me +to catch that look in the eyes by which you may best know a man's mood. +Not a sound or a motion came from Carford. Barbara herself was stiff and +still, her regard bent on M. de Perrencourt. He stood now directly over +against her and Monmouth; it seemed long before he spoke. Indeed, I had +looked for Monmouth's voice first, for an oath of vexation at the +interruption, for a curse on the intruder and a haughty order to him to +be gone and not interfere with what concerned his betters. No such word, +nor any words, issued from the mouth of the Duke. And still M. de +Perrencourt was silent. Carford stole covertly from the steps nearer to +the group until, gliding across the hall, he was almost at the +Frenchman's elbow. Still M. de Perrencourt was silent. + +Slowly and reluctantly, as though in deference to an order that he +loathed but dared not disobey, Monmouth drew his arm away; he loosed +Barbara's hand, she drew back, leaning against the wall; the Duke stood +with his arms by his side, looking at the man who interrupted his sport +and seemed to have power to control his will. Then, at last, in crisp, +curt, ungracious tones, M. de Perrencourt spoke. + +"I thank you, Monsieur le Duc," said he. "I was sure that you would +perceive your error soon. This is not the lady you supposed, this is +Mistress Quinton. I desire to speak with her, pray give me leave." + +The King would not have spoken in this style to his pampered son, and +the Duke of York himself dared not have done it. But no touch of +uneasiness or self-distrust appeared in M. de Perrencourt's smooth +cutting speech. Truly he was high in Madame's confidence, and, likely +enough, a great man in his own country; but, on my life, I looked to see +the hot-tempered Duke strike him across the face. Even I, who had been +about to interfere myself, by some odd momentary turn of feeling +resented the insolence with which Monmouth was assailed. Would he not +resent it much more for himself? No. For an instant I heard his quick +breathing, the breathing of a man who fights anger, holding it under +with great labour and struggling. Then he spoke; in his voice also there +was passion hard held. + +"Here, sir, and everywhere," he said, "you have only to command to be +obeyed." Slowly he bent his head low, the gesture matching the humility +of his words, while it emphasised their unwillingness. + +The strange submission won no praise. M. de Perrencourt did not accord +the speech so much courtesy as lay in an answer. His silent slight bow +was all his acknowledgment; he stood there waiting for his command to be +obeyed. + +Monmouth turned once towards Barbara, but his eyes came back to M. de +Perrencourt. Carford advanced to him and offered his arm. The Duke laid +his hand on his friend's shoulder. For a moment they stood still thus, +then both bowed low to M. de Perrencourt, who answered with another of +his slight inclinations of the head. They turned and walked out of the +hall, the Duke seeming almost to stagger and to lean on Carford, as +though to steady his steps. As they went they passed within two yards of +me, and I saw Monmouth's face pale with rage. With a long indrawing of +my breath I drew back into the shadow of my shelter. They passed, the +hall was empty save for myself and the two who stood there by the wall. + +I had no thought now of justifying my part of eavesdropper. Scruples +were drowned in excitement; keen interest bound me to my place with +chains of iron. My brain was full of previous suspicion thrice +magnified; all that was mysterious in this man came back to me; the +message I had surprised at Canterbury ran echoing through my head again +and again. Yet I bent myself to the task of listening, resolute to catch +every word. Alas, my efforts were in vain! M. de Perrencourt was of +different clay from his Grace the Duke. He was indeed speaking now, but +so low and warily that no more than a gentle murmur reached my ears. Nor +did his gestures aid; they were as far from Monmouth's jovial violence +as his tones from the Duke's reckless exclaiming. He was urgent but +courteous, most insistent yet most deferential. Monmouth claimed and +challenged, M. de Perrencourt seemed to beseech and woo. Yet he asked +as though none could refuse, and his prayer presumed a favourable +answer. Barbara listened in quiet; I could not tell whether fear alone +bound her, or whether the soft courtly voice bred fascination also. I +was half-mad that I could not hear, and had much ado not to rush out, +unprovoked, and defy the man before whom my master had bowed almost to +the ground, beaten and dismayed. + +At last she spoke a few hurried imploring words. + +"No, no," she panted. "No; pray leave me. No." + +M. de Perrencourt answered gently and beseechingly, + +"Nay, say 'Not yet,' madame." + +They were silent again, he seeming to regard her intently. Suddenly she +covered her face with her hands; yet, dropping her hands almost +immediately, she set her eyes on his; I saw him shake his head. + +"For to-night, then, good-night, fairest lady," said he. He took her +hand and kissed it lightly, bowing very low and respectfully, she +looking down at him as he stooped. Then he drew away from her, bowing +again and repeating again, + +"For to-night, good-night." + +With this he turned towards the stairs, crossing the hall with the same +brisk, confident tread that had marked his entry. He left her, but it +looked as though she were indulged, not he defeated. At the lowest step +he paused, turned, bowed low again. This time she answered with a deep +and sweeping curtsey. Then he was gone, and she was leaning by the wall +again, her face buried in her hands. I heard her sob, and her broken +words reached me: + +"What shall I do? Oh, what shall I do?" + +At once I stepped out from the hiding-place that had shown me such +strange things, and, crossing to her, hat in hand, answered her sad +desolate question. + +"Why, trust in your friends, Mistress Barbara," said I cheerily. "What +else can any lady do?" + +"Simon!" she cried eagerly, and as I thought gladly; for her hand flew +out to mine. "You, here?" + +"And at your service always," said I. + +"But have you been here? Where did you come from?" + +"Why, from across the hall, behind the chair there," I answered. "I've +been there a long while back. His Grace told me to wait in the hall, and +in the hall I waited, though the Duke, having other things to think of, +forgot both his order and his servant." + +"Then you heard?" she asked in a whisper. + +"All, I think, that the Duke said. Lord Carford said nothing. I was +about to interrupt his Grace when the task was better performed for me. +I think, madame, you owe some thanks to M. de Perrencourt." + +"You heard what he said?" + +"The last few words only," I answered regretfully. + +She looked at me for an instant, and then said with a dreary little +smile, + +"I'm to be grateful to M. de Perrencourt?" + +"I know no other man who could or would have rid you of the Duke so +finely. Besides, he appeared to treat you with much courtesy." + +"Courtesy, yes!" she cried, but seemed to check herself. She was still +in great agitation, and a moment later she covered her face and I heard +her sob again. + +"Come, take heart," said I. "The Duke's a great man, of course; but no +harm shall come to you, Mistress Barbara. Your father bade me have my +services in readiness for you, and although I didn't need his order as a +spur, I may pray leave to use it as an excuse for thrusting myself on +you." + +"Indeed I--I'm glad to see you, Simon. But what shall I do? Ah, Heaven, +why did I ever come to this place?" + +"That can be mended by leaving it, madame." + +"But how? How can I leave it?" she asked despairingly. + +"The Duchess will grant you leave." + +"Without the King's consent?" + +"But won't the King consent? Madame will ask for you; she's kind." + +"Madame won't ask for me; nobody will ask for me." + +"Then if leave be impossible, we must go without leave, if you speak the +word." + +"Ah, you don't know," she said sadly. Then she caught my hand again and +whispered hurriedly and fearfully: "I'm afraid, Simon. I--I fear him. +What can I do? How can I resist? They can do what they will with me, +what can I do? If I weep, they laugh; if I try to laugh, they take it +for consent. What can I do?" + +There is nothing that so binds a man to a woman as to feel her hand +seeking his in weakness and appeal. I had thought that one day so +Barbara's might seek mine and I should exult in it, nay, might even let +her perceive my triumph. The thing I had dreamed of was come, but where +was my exultation? There was a choking in my throat and I swallowed +twice before I contrived to answer: + +"What can we do, you mean, Mistress Barbara." + +"Alas, alas," she cried, between tears and laughter, "what can we--even +we--do, Simon?" + +I noticed that she called me Simon, as in the old days before my +apostacy and great offence. I was glad of it, for if I was to be of +service to her we must be friends. Suddenly she said, + +"You know what it means--I can't tell you; you know?" + +"Aye, I know," said I, "none better. But the Duke shan't have his way." + +"The Duke? If it were only the Duke--Ah!" She stopped, a new alarm in +her eyes. She searched my face eagerly. Of deliberate purpose I set it +to an immutable stolidity. + +"Already he's very docile," said I. "See how M. de Perrencourt turned +and twisted him, and sent him off crestfallen." + +She laid her hand on my arm. + +"If I might tell you," she said, "a thing that few know here; none but +the King and his near kindred and one or two more." + +"But how came you to know of it?" I interrupted. + +"I--I also came to know it," she murmured. + +"There are many ways of coming to know a thing," said I. "One is by +being told; another, madame, is by finding out. Certainly it was amazing +how M. de Perrencourt dealt with his Grace; ay, and with my Lord +Carford, who shrank out of his path as though he had been--a King." I +let my tones give the last word full effect. + +"Simon," she whispered in eagerness mingled with alarm, "Simon, what are +you saying? Silence for your life!" + +"My life, madame, is rooted too deep for a syllable to tear it up. I +said only 'as though he had been a king.' Tell me why M. Colbert wears +the King's Star. Was it because somebody saw a gentleman wearing the +King's Star embrace and kiss M. de Perrencourt the night that he +arrived?" + +"It was you?" + +"It was I, madame. Tell me on whose account three messengers went to +London, carrying the words '_Il vient_.'" + +She was hanging to my arm now, full of eagerness. + +"And tell me now what M. de Perrencourt said to you. A plague on him, he +spoke so low that I couldn't hear!" + +A blush swept over her face; her eyes, losing the fire of excitement, +dropped in confusion to the ground. + +"I can't tell you," she murmured. + +"Yet I know," said I. "And if you'll trust me, madame----" + +"Ah, Simon, you know I trust you." + +"Yet you were angry with me." + +"Not angry--I had no right--I mean I had no cause to be angry. I--I was +grieved." + +"You need be grieved no longer, madame." + +"Poor Simon!" said she very gently. I felt the lightest pressure on my +hand, the touch of two slim fingers, speaking of sympathy and +comradeship. + +"By God, I'll bring you safe out of it," I cried. + +"But how, how? Simon, I fear that he has----" + +"The Duke?" + +"No, the--the other--M. de Perrencourt; he has set his heart on--on what +he told me." + +"A man may set his heart on a thing and yet not win it," said I grimly. + +"Yes, a man--yes, Simon, I know; a man may----" + +"Ay, and even a----" + +"Hush, hush! If you were overheard--your life wouldn't be safe if you +were overheard." + +"What do I care?" + +"But I care!" she cried, and added very hastily, "I'm selfish. I care, +because I want your help." + +"You shall have it. Against the Duke of Monmouth, and against the----" + +"Ah, be careful!" + +I would not be careful. My blood was up. My voice was loud and bold as I +gave to M. de Perrencourt the name that was his, the name by which the +frightened lord and the cowed Duke knew him, the name that gave him +entrance to those inmost secret conferences, and yet kept him himself +hidden and half a prisoner in the Castle. The secret was no secret to me +now. + +"Against the Duke of Monmouth," said I sturdily, "and also, if need be, +against the King of France." + +Barbara caught at my arm in alarm. I laughed, till I saw her finger +point warily over my shoulder. With a start I turned and saw a man +coming down the steps. In the dim light the bright Star gleamed on his +breast. He was M. Colbert de Croissy. He stood on the lowest step, +peering at us through the gloom. + +"Who speaks of the King of France here?" he said suspiciously. + +"I, Simon Dale, gentleman-in-waiting to the Duke of Monmouth, at your +Excellency's service," I answered, advancing towards him and making my +bow. + +"What have you to say of my master?" he demanded. + +For a moment I was at a loss; for although my heart was full of things +that I should have taken much pleasure in saying concerning His Majesty, +they were none of them acceptable to the ears of His Majesty's Envoy. I +stood, looking at Colbert, and my eyes fell on the Star that he wore. I +knew that I committed an imprudence, but for the life of me I could not +withstand the temptation. I made another bow, and, smiling easily, +answered M. Colbert. + +"I was remarking, sir," said I, "that the compliment paid to you by the +King of England in bestowing on you the Star from His Majesty's own +breast, could not fail to cause much gratification to the King of +France." + +He looked me hard in the eyes, but his eyes fell to the ground before +mine. I warrant he took nothing by his searching glance, and did well to +give up the conflict. Without a word, and with a stiff little bow, he +passed on his way to the hall. The moment he was gone, Barbara was by +me. Her face was alight with merriment. + +"Oh, Simon, Simon!" she whispered reprovingly. "But I love you for it!" +And she was gone up the stairs like a flitting moonbeam. + +Upon this, having my head full and to spare of many matters, and my +heart beating quick with more than one emotion, I thought my bed the +best and safest place for me, and repaired to it without delay. + +"But I'll have some conversation with M. de Perrencourt to-morrow," said +I, as I turned on my pillow and sought to sleep. + + + + +CHAPTER XIII + +THE MEED OF CURIOSITY + + +The next morning my exaltation had gone. I woke a prey to despondency +and sickness of soul. Not only did difficulty loom large, and failure +seem inevitable, but a disgust for all that surrounded me seized on my +mind, displacing the zest of adventure and the excitement of enterprise. +But let me not set my virtue too high. It is better to be plain. Old +maxims of morality, and a standard of right acknowledged by all but +observed by none, have little power over a young man's hot blood; to be +stirred to indignation, he must see the wrong threaten one he respects, +touch one he loves, or menace his own honour and pride. I had supported +the scandals of this Court, of which I made a humble part, with shrugs, +smiles, and acid jests; I had felt no dislike for the chief actors, and +no horror at the things they did or attempted; nay, for one of them, who +might seem to sum up in her own person the worst of all that was to be +urged against King and Court, I had cherished a desperate love that bred +even in death an obstinate and longing memory. Now a change had come +over me; I seemed to see no longer through my own careless eyes, but +with the shamed and terrified vision of the girl who, cast into this +furnace, caught at my hand as offering her the sole chance to pass +unscathed through the fire. They were using her in their schemes, she +was to be sacrificed; first she had been chosen as the lure with which +to draw forth Monmouth's ambitions from their lair, and reveal them to +the spying eyes of York and his tool Carford; if that plan were changed +now, she would be no better for the change. The King would and could +refuse this M. de Perrencourt (I laughed bitterly as I muttered his +name) nothing, however great; without a thought he would fling the girl +to him, if the all-powerful finger were raised to ask for her. Charles +would think himself well paid by his brother king's complaisance towards +his own inclination. Doubtless there were great bargains of policy +a-making here in the Castle, and the nature of them I made shift to +guess. What was it to throw in a trifle on either side, barter Barbara +Quinton against the French lady, and content two Princes at a price so +low as the dishonour of two ladies? That was the game; otherwise, whence +came M. de Perrencourt's court and Monmouth's deference? The King saw +eye to eye with M. de Perrencourt, and the King's son did not venture to +thwart him. What matter that men spoke of other loves which the French +King had? The gallants of Paris might think us in England rude and +ignorant, but at least we had learnt that a large heart was a +prerogative of royalty which even the Parliament dared not question. +With a new loathing I loathed it all, for it seemed now to lay aside its +trappings of pomp and brilliancy, of jest and wit, and display itself +before me in ugly nakedness, all unashamed. In sudden frenzy I sat up in +my bed, crying, "Heaven will find a way!" For surely heaven could find +one, where the devil found so many! Ah, righteous wert thou, Simon Dale, +so soon as unrighteousness hurt thee! But Phineas Tate might have +preached until the end of time. + +Earlier than usual by an hour Jonah Wall came up from the town where he +was lodged, but he found me up and dressed, eager to act, ready for what +might chance. I had seen little of the fellow lately, calling on him for +necessary services only, and ridding myself of his sombre company as +quickly as I could. Yet I looked on him to-day with more consideration; +his was a repulsive form of righteousness, grim and gloomy, but it was +righteousness, or seemed such to me against the background of iniquity +which threw it up in strong relief. I spoke to him kindly, but taking no +heed of my advances he came straight up to me and said brusquely: "The +woman who came to your lodging in London is here in Dover. She bids you +be silent and come quickly. I can lead you." + +I started and stared at him. I had set "Finis" to that chapter; was +fate minded to overrule me and write more? Strange also that Jonah Wall +should play Mercury! + +"She here in Dover? For what?" I asked as calmly as I could. + +"I don't doubt, for sin," he answered uncompromisingly. + +"Yet you can lead me to her house?" said I with a smile. + +"I can," said he, in sour disregard of my hinted banter. + +"I won't go," I declared. + +"The matter concerns you, she said, and might concern another." + +It was early, the Court would not be moving for two hours yet. I could +go and come, and thereby lose no opportunity. Curiosity led me on, and +with it the attraction which still draws us to those we have loved, +though the love be gone and more pain than pleasure wait on our +visiting. In ten minutes I was following Jonah down the cliff, and +plunged thence into a narrow street that ran curling and curving towards +the sea. Jonah held on quickly, and without hesitation, until we reached +a confined alley, and came to a halt before a mean house. + +"She's here," said Jonah, pointing to the door and twisting his face as +though he was swallowing something nauseous. + +I could not doubt of her presence, for I heard her voice singing gaily +from within. My heart beat quick, and I had above half a mind not to +enter. But she had seen us, and herself flung the door open wide. She +lodged on the ground floor; and, in obedience to her beckoning finger, I +entered a small room. Lodging was hard to be had in Dover now, and the +apartment served her (as the bed, carelessly covered with a curtain, +showed) for sleeping and living. I did not notice what became of Jonah, +but sat down, puzzled and awkward, in a crazy chair. + +"What brings you here?" I blurted out, fixing my eyes on her, as she +stood opposite to me, smiling and swaying to and fro a little, with her +hands on her hips. + +"Even what brings you. My business," she answered. "If you ask more, the +King's invitation. Does that grieve you, Simon?" + +"No, madame," said I. + +"A little, still a little, Simon? Be consoled! The King invited me, but +he hasn't come to see me. There lies my business. Why hasn't he come to +see me? I hear certain things, but my eyes, though they are counted good +if not large, can't pierce the walls of the Castle yonder, and my poor +feet aren't fit to pass its threshold." + +"You needn't grieve for that," said I sullenly. + +"Yet some things I know. As that a French lady is there. Of what +appearance is she, Simon?" + +"She is very pretty, so far as I've looked at her." + +"Ah, and you've a discriminating glance, haven't you? Will she stay +long?" + +"They say Madame will be here for ten or fourteen days yet." + +"And the French lady goes when Madame goes?" + +"I don't know as to that." + +"Why, nor I neither." She paused an instant. "You don't love Lord +Carford?" Her question came abruptly and unlooked for. + +"I don't know your meaning." What concern had Carford with the French +lady? + +"I think you are in the way to learn it. Love makes men quick, doesn't +it? Yes, since you ask (your eyes asked), why, I'll confess that I'm a +little sorry that you fall in love again. But that by the way. Simon, +neither do I love this French lady." + +Had it not been for that morning's mood of mine, she would have won on +me again, and all my resolutions gone for naught. But she, not knowing +the working of my mind, took no pains to hide or to soften what repelled +me in her. I had seen it before, and yet loved; to her it would seem +strange that because a man saw, he should not love. I found myself sorry +for her, with a new and pitiful grief, but passion did not rise in me. +And concerning my pity I held my tongue; she would have only wonder and +mockery for it. But I think she was vexed to see me so unmoved; it irks +a woman to lose a man, however little she may have prized him when he +was her own. Nor do I mean to say that we are different from their sex +in that; it is, I take it, nature in woman and man alike. + +"At least we're friends, Simon," she said with a laugh. "And at least +we're Protestants." She laughed again. I looked up with a questioning +glance. "And at least we both hate the French," she continued. + +"It's true; I have no love for them. What then? What can we do?" + +She looked round cautiously, and, coming a little nearer to me, +whispered: + +"Late last night I had a visitor, one who doesn't love me greatly. What +does that matter? We row now in the same boat. I speak of the Duke of +Buckingham." + +"He is reconciled to my Lord Arlington by Madame's good offices," said +I. For so the story ran in the Castle. + +"Why, yes, he's reconciled to Arlington as the dog to the cat when their +master is by. Now there's a thing that the Duke suspects; and there's +another thing that he knows. He suspects that this treaty touches more +than war with the Dutch; though that I hate, for war swallows the King's +money like a well." + +"Some passes the mouth of the well, if report speaks true," I observed. + +"Peace, peace! Simon, the treaty touches more." + +"A man need not be Duke nor Minister to suspect that," said I. + +"Ah, you suspect? The King's religion?" she whispered. + +I nodded; the secret was no surprise to me, though I had not known +whether Buckingham were in it. + +"And what does the Duke of Buckingham know?" I asked. + +"Why, that the King sometimes listens to a woman's counsel," said she, +nodding her head and smiling very wisely. + +"Prodigious sagacity!" I cried. "You told him that, may be?" + +"Indeed, he had learnt it before my day, Master Simon. Therefore, should +the King turn Catholic, he will be a better Catholic for the society of +a Catholic lady. Now this Madame--how do you name her?" + +"Mlle. de Querouaille?" + +"Aye. She is a most devout Catholic. Indeed, her devotion to her +religion knows no bounds. It's like mine to the King. Don't frown, +Simon. Loyalty is a virtue." + +"And piety also, by the same rule, and in the same unstinted measure?" I +asked bitterly. + +"Beyond doubt, sir. But the French King has sent word from Calais----" + +"Oh, from Calais! The Duke revealed that to you?" I asked with a smile I +could not smother. There was a limit then to the Duke's confidence in +his ally; for the Duke had been at Paris and could be no stranger to M. +de Perrencourt. + +"Yes, he told me all. The King of France has sent word from Calais, +where he awaits the signing of the treaty, that the loss of this Madame +Querouaille would rob his Court of beauty, and he cannot be so bereft. +And Madame, the Duke says, swears she can't be robbed of her fairest +Maid of Honour ('tis a good name that, on my life) and left desolate. +But Madame has seen one who might make up the loss, and the King of +France, having studied the lady's picture, thinks the same. In fine, +Simon, our King feels that he can't be a good Catholic without the +counsels of Madame Querouaille, and the French King feels that he must +by all means convert and save so fair a lady as--is the name on your +tongue, nay, is it in your heart, Simon?" + +"I know whom you mean," I answered, for her revelation came to no more +than what I had scented out for myself. "But what says Buckingham to +this?" + +"Why, that the King mustn't have his way lest he should thereby be +confirmed in his Popish inclinations. The Duke is Protestant, as you +are--and as I am, so please you." + +"Can he hinder it?" + +"Aye, if he can hinder the French King from having his way. And for this +purpose his Grace has need of certain things." + +"Do you carry a message from him to me?" + +"I did but say that I knew a gentleman who might supply his needs. They +are four; a heart, a head, a hand, and perhaps a sword." + +"All men have them, then." + +"The first true, the second long, the third strong, and the fourth +ready." + +"I fear then that I haven't all of them." + +"And for reward----" + +"I know. His life, if he can come off with it." + +Nell burst out laughing. + +"He didn't say that, but it may well reckon up to much that figure," she +admitted. "You'll think of it, Simon?" + +"Think of it? I! Not I!" + +"You won't?" + +"Or I mightn't attempt it." + +"Ah! You will attempt it?" + +"Of a certainty." + +"You're very ready. Is it all honesty?" + +"Is ever anything all honesty, madame--saving your devotion to the +King?" + +"And the French lady's to her religion?" laughed Nell. "On my soul, I +think the picture that the King of France saw was a fair one. Have you +looked on it, Simon?" + +"On my life I don't love her." + +"On my life you will." + +"You seek to stop me by that prophecy?" + +"I don't care whom you love," said she. Then her face broke into smiles. +"What liars women are!" she cried. "Yes, I do care; not enough to grow +wrinkled, but enough to wish I hadn't grown half a lady and could----" + +"You stop?" + +"Could--could--could slap your face, Simon." + +"It would be a light infliction after breaking a man's heart," said I, +turning my cheek to her and beckoning with my hand. + +"You should have a revenge on my face; not in kind, but in kindness. I +can't strike a man who won't hit back." She laughed at me with all her +old enticing gaiety. + +I had almost sealed the bargain; she was so roguish and so pretty. Had +we met first then, it is very likely she would have made the offer, and +very certain that I should have taken it. But there had been other days; +I sighed. + +"I loved you too well once to kiss you now, mistress," said I. + +"You're mighty strange at times, Simon," said she, sighing also, and +lifting her brows. "Now, I'd as lief kiss a man I had loved as any +other." + +"Or slap his face?" + +"If I'd never cared to kiss, I'd never care for the other either. You +rise?" + +"Why, yes. I have my commission, haven't I?" + +"I give you this one also, and yet you keep it?" + +"Is that slight not yet forgiven?" + +"All is forgiven and all is forgotten--nearly, Simon." + +At this instant--and since man is human, woman persistent, and courtesy +imperative, I did not quarrel with the interruption--a sound came from +the room above, strange in a house where Nell lived (if she will pardon +so much candour), but oddly familiar to me. I held up my hand and +listened. Nell's rippling laugh broke in. + +"Plague on him!" she cried. "Yes, he's here. Of a truth he's resolute to +convert me, and the fool amuses me." + +"Phineas Tate!" I exclaimed, amazed; for beyond doubt his was the voice. +I could tell his intonation of a penitential psalm among a thousand. I +had heard it in no other key. + +"You didn't know? Yet that other fool, your servant, is always with him. +They've been closeted together for two hours at a time." + +"Psalm-singing?" + +"Now and again. They're often quiet too." + +"He preaches to you?" + +"Only a little; when we chance to meet at the door he gives me a curse +and promises a blessing; no more." + +"It's very little to come to Dover for." + +"You would have come farther for less of my company once, sir." + +It was true, but it did not solve my wonder at the presence of Phineas +Tate. What brought the fellow? Had he too sniffed out something of what +was afoot and come to fight for his religion, even as Louise de +Querouaille fought for hers, though in a most different fashion? + +I had reached the door of the room and was in the passage. Nell came to +the threshold and stood there smiling. I had asked no more questions and +made no conditions; I knew that Buckingham must not show himself in the +matter, and that all was left to me, heart, head, hand, sword, and also +that same reward, if I were so lucky as to come by it. I waited for a +moment, half expecting that Phineas, hearing my voice, would show +himself, but he did not appear. Nell waved her hand to me; I bowed and +took my leave, turning my steps back towards the Castle. The Court would +be awake, and whether on my own account or for my new commission's sake +I must be there. + +I had not mounted far before I heard a puffing and blowing behind. The +sound proved to come from Jonah Wall, who was toiling after me, laden +with a large basket. I had no eagerness for Jonah's society, but +rejoiced to see the basket; for my private store of food and wine had +run low, and if a man is to find out what he wants to know, it is well +for him to have a pasty and a bottle ready for those who can help him. + +"What have you there?" I called, waiting for him to overtake me. + +He explained that he had been making purchases in the town and I praised +his zeal. Then I asked him suddenly: + +"And have you visited your friend Mr Tate?" + +As I live, the fellow went suddenly pale, and the bottles clinked in +his basket from the shaking of his hand. Yet I spoke mildly enough. + +"I--I have seen him but once or twice, sir, since I learnt that he was +in the town. I thought you did not wish me to see him." + +"Nay, you can see him as much as you like, as long as I don't," I +answered in a careless tone, but keeping an attentive eye on Jonah. His +perturbation seemed strange. If Phineas' business were only the +conversion of Mistress Gwyn, what reason had Jonah Wall to go white as +Dover cliffs over it? + +We came to the Castle and I dismissed him, bidding him stow his load +safely in my quarters. Then I repaired to the Duke of Monmouth's +apartments, wondering in what mood I should find him after last night's +rebuff. Little did he think that I had been a witness of it. I entered +his room; he was sitting in his chair, with him was Carford. The Duke's +face was as glum and his air as ill-tempered as I could wish. Carford's +manner was subdued, calm, and sympathetic. They were talking earnestly +as I entered but ceased their conversation at once. I offered my +services. + +"I have no need of you this morning, Simon," answered the Duke. "I'm +engaged with Lord Carford." + +I retired. But of a truth that morning every one in the Castle was +engaged with someone else. At every turn I came on couples in anxious +consultation. The approach of an intruder brought immediate silence, +the barest civility delayed him, his departure was received gladly and +was signal for renewed consultation. Well, the King sets the mode, and +the King, I heard, was closeted with Madame and the Duke of York. + +But not with M. de Perrencourt. There was a hundred feet of the wall, +with a guard at one end and a guard at the other, and mid-way between +them a solitary figure stood looking down on Dover town and thence out +to sea. In an instant I recognised him, and a great desire came over me +to speak to him. He was the foremost man alive in that day, and I longed +to speak with him. To have known the great is to have tasted the true +flavour of your times. But how to pass the sentries? Their presence +meant that M. de Perrencourt desired privacy. I stepped up to one and +offered to pass. He barred the way. + +"But I'm in the service of his Grace the Duke of Monmouth," I +expostulated. + +"If you were in the service of the devil himself you couldn't pass here +without the King's order," retorted the fellow. + +"Won't his head serve as well as his order?" I asked, slipping a crown +into his hand. "Come, I've a message from his Grace for the French +gentleman. Yes, it's private. Deuce take it, do fathers always know of +their sons' doings?" + +"No, nor sons all their father's sometimes," he chuckled. "Along with +you quick, and run if you hear me whistle; it will mean my officer is +coming." + +I was alone in the sacred space with M. de Perrencourt. I assumed an +easy air and sauntered along, till I was within a few yards of him. +Hearing my step then, he looked round with a start and asked +peremptorily, + +"What's your desire, sir?" + +By an avowal of himself, even by quoting the King's order, he could +banish me. But if his cue were concealment and ignorance of the order, +why, I might indulge my curiosity. + +"Like your own, sir," I replied courteously, "a breath of fresh air and +a sight of the sea." + +He frowned a little, but I gave him no time to speak. + +"That fellow though," I pursued, "gave me to understand that none might +pass; yet the King is not here, is he?" + +"Then how did you pass, sir?" asked M. de Perrencourt, ignoring my last +question. + +"Why, with a lie, sir," I answered. "I said I had a message for you from +the Duke of Monmouth, and the fool believed me. But we gentlemen in +attendance must stand by one another. You'll not betray me? Your word on +it?" + +A slow smile broke across his face. + +"No, I'll not betray you," said he. "You speak French well, sir." + +"So M. de Fontelles, whom I met at Canterbury, told me. Do you chance to +know him, sir?" + +M. de Perrencourt did not start now; I should have been disappointed if +he had. + +"Very well," he answered. "If you're his friend, you're mine." He held +out his hand. + +"I take it on false pretences," said I with a laugh, as I shook it. "For +we came near to quarrelling, M. de Fontelles and I." + +"Ah, on what point?" + +"A nothing, sir." + +"Nay, but tell me." + +"Indeed I will not, if you'll pardon me." + +"Sir, I wish to know. I ins--I beg." A stare from me had stopped the +"insist" when it was half-way through his lips. On my soul, he flushed! +I tell my children sometimes how I made him flush; the thing was not +done often. Yet his confusion was but momentary, and suddenly, I know +not how, I in my turn became abashed with the cold stare of his eyes, +and when he asked me my name, I answered baldly, with never a bow and +never a flourish, "Simon Dale." + +"I have heard your name," said he gravely. Then he turned round and +began looking at the sea again. + +Now, had he been wearing his own clothes (if I may so say) this conduct +would have been appropriate enough; it would have been a dismissal and I +should have passed on my way. But a man should be consistent in his +disguises, and from M. de Perrencourt, gentleman-in-waiting, the +behaviour was mighty uncivil. Yet my revenge must be indirect. + +"Is it true, sir," I asked, coming close to him, "that the King of +France is yonder at Calais? So it's said." + +"I believe it to be true," answered M. de Perrencourt. + +"I wish he had come over," I cried. "I should love to see him, for they +say he's a very proper man, although he's somewhat short." + +M. de Perrencourt did not turn his head, but again I saw his cheek +flush. To speak of his low stature was, I had heard Monmouth say, to +commit the most dire offence in King Louis' eyes. + +"Now, how tall is the King, sir?" I asked. "Is he tall as you, sir?" + +M. de Perrencourt was still silent. To tell the truth, I began to be a +little uneasy; there were cells under the Castle, and I had need to be +at large for the coming few days. + +"For," said I, "they tell such lies concerning princes." + +Now he turned towards me, saying, + +"There you're right, sir. The King of France, is of middle size, about +my own height." + +For the life of me I could not resist it. I said nothing with my tongue, +but for a moment I allowed my eyes to say, "But then you're short, sir." +He understood, and for the third time he flushed. + +"I thought as much," said I, and with a bow I began to walk on. + +But, as ill-luck would have it, I was not to come clear off from my +indiscretion. In a moment I should have been out of sight. But as I +started I saw a gentleman pass the guard, who stood at the salute. It +was the King; escape was impossible. He walked straight up to me, bowing +carelessly in response to M. de Perrencourt's deferential inclination of +his person. + +"How come you here, Mr Dale?" he asked abruptly. "The guard tells me +that he informed you of my orders and that you insisted on passing." + +M. de Perrencourt felt that his turn was come; he stood there smiling. I +found nothing to say; if I repeated my fiction of a message, the French +gentleman, justly enraged, would betray me. + +"M. de Perrencourt seemed lonely, sir," I answered at last. + +"A little loneliness hurts no man," said the King. He took out his +tablets and began to write. When he was done, he gave me the message, +adding, "Read it." I read, "Mr Simon Dale will remain under arrest in +his own apartment for twenty-four hours, and will not leave it except by +the express command of the King." I made a wry face. + +"If the Duke of Monmouth wants me----" I began. + +"He'll have to do without you, Mr Dale," interrupted the King. "Come, M. +de Perrencourt, will you give me your arm?" And off he went on the +French gentleman's arm, leaving me most utterly abashed, and cursing the +curiosity that had brought me to this trouble. + +"So much for the Duke of Buckingham's 'long head,'" said I to myself +ruefully, as I made my way towards the Constable's Tower, in which his +Grace was lodged, and where I had my small quarters. + +Indeed, I might well feel a fool; for the next twenty-four hours, during +which I was to be a prisoner, would in all likelihood see the issue in +which I was pledged to bear a part. Now I could do nothing. Yet at least +I must send speedy word to the town that I was no longer to be looked to +for any help, and when I reached my room I called loudly for Jonah Wall. +It was but the middle of the day, yet he was not to be seen. I walked to +the door and found, not Jonah, but a guard on duty. + +"What are you doing here?" + +"Seeing that you stay here, sir," he answered, with a grin. + +Then the King was very anxious that I should obey his orders, and had +lost no time in ensuring my obedience; he was right to take his +measures, for, standing where I did, his orders would not have +restrained me. I was glad that he had set a guard on me in lieu of +asking my parole. For much as I love sin, I hate temptation. Yet where +was Jonah Wall, and how could I send my message? I flung myself on the +bed in deep despondency. A moment later the door opened, and Robert, +Darrell's servant, entered. + +"My master begs to know if you will sup with him to-night, sir." + +"Thank him kindly," said I; "but if you ask that gentleman outside, +Robert, he'll tell you that I must sup at home by the King's desire. I'm +under arrest, Robert." + +"My master will be grieved to hear it, sir, and the more because he +hoped that you would bring some wine with you, for he has none, and he +has guests to sup with him." + +"Ah, an interested invitation! How did Mr Darrell know that I had wine?" + +"Your servant Jonah spoke of it to me, sir, and said that you would be +glad to send my master some." + +"Jonah is liberal! But I'm glad, and assure Mr Darrell of it. Where is +my rascal?" + +"I saw him leave the Castle about an hour ago; just after he spoke to me +about the wine." + +"Curse him! I wanted him. Well, take the wine. There are six bottles +that he got to-day." + +"There is French wine here, sir, and Spanish. May I take either?" + +"Take the French in God's name. I don't want that. I've had enough of +France. Stay, though, I believe Mr Darrell likes the Spanish better." + +"Yes, sir; but his guests will like the French." + +"And who are these guests?" + +Robert swelled with pride. + +"I thought Jonah would have told you, sir," said he. "The King is to sup +with my master." + +"Then," said I, "I'm well excused. For no man knows better than the King +why I can't come." + +The fellow took his bottles and went off grinning. I, being left, fell +again to cursing myself for a fool, and in this occupation I passed the +hours of the afternoon. + + + + +CHAPTER XIV + +THE KING'S CUP + + +At least the Vicar would be pleased! A whimsical joy in the anticipation +of his delight shot across my gloomy meditations as the sunset rays +threaded their way through the narrow window of the chamber that was my +cell. The thought of him stayed with me, amusing my idleness and +entertaining my fancy. I could imagine his wise, contented nod, far from +surprise as the poles are apart, full of self-approval as an egg of +meat. For his vision had been clear, in him faith had never wavered. Of +a truth, the prophecy which old Betty Nasroth spoke (foolishness though +it were) was, through Fortune's freak, two parts fulfilled. What +remained might rest unjustified to my great content; small comfort had I +won from so much as had come to pass. I had loved where the King loved, +and my youth, though it raised its head again, still reeled under the +blow; I knew what the King hid--aye, it might be more than one thing +that he hid; my knowledge landed me where I lay now, in close +confinement with a gaoler at my door. For my own choice, I would crave +the Vicar's pardon, would compound with destiny, and, taking the +proportion of fate's gifts already dealt to me in lieu of all, would go +in peace to humbler doings, beneath the dignity of dark prophecy, but +more fit to give a man quiet days and comfort in his life. Indeed, as my +lord Quinton had said long ago, there was strange wine in the King's +cup, and I had no desire to drink of it. Yet who would not have been +moved by the strange working of events which made the old woman's +prophecy seem the true reading of a future beyond guess or reasonable +forecast? I jeered and snarled at myself, at Betty, at her prophecy, at +the Vicar's credulity. But the notion would not be expelled; two parts +stood accomplished, but the third remained. "Glamis thou art, and +Cawdor, and shalt be what thou art promised!"--I forget how it runs on, +for it is long since I saw the play, though I make bold to think that it +is well enough written. Alas, no good came of listening to witches +there, if my memory holds the story of the piece rightly. + +There is little profit, and less entertainment, in the record of my +angry desponding thoughts. Now I lay like a log, again I ranged the cell +as a beast his cage. I cared not a stiver for Buckingham's schemes, I +paid small heed to Nell's jealousy. It was nought to me who should be +the King's next favourite, and although I, with all other honest men, +hated a Popish King, the fear of him would not have kept me from my +sleep or from my supper. Who eats his dinner the less though a kingdom +fall? To take a young man's appetite away, and keep his eyes open o' +nights, needs a nearer touch than that. But I had on me a horror of what +was being done in this place; they sold a lady's honour there, throwing +it in for a make-weight in their bargain. I would have dashed the scales +from their hands, but I was helpless. There is the truth: a man need not +be ashamed for having had a trifle of honesty about him when he was +young. And if my honesty had the backing of something else that I myself +knew not yet, why, for honesty's good safety, God send it such backing +always! Without some such aid, it is too often brought to terms and +sings small in the end. + +The evening grew late and darkness had fallen. I turned again to my +supper and contrived to eat and to drink a glass or two of wine. +Suddenly I remembered Jonah Wall, and sent a curse after the negligent +fellow, wherever he might be, determining that next morning he should +take his choice between a drubbing and dismissal. Then I stretched +myself again on the pallet, resolute to see whether a man could will +himself asleep. But I had hardly closed my eyes when I opened them again +and started up, leaning on my elbow. There was somebody in conversation +with my gaoler. The conference was brief. + +"Here's the King's order," I heard, in a haughty, careless tone. "Open +the door, fellow, and be quick." + +The door was flung open. I sprang to my feet with a bow. The Duke of +Buckingham stood before me, surveying my person (in truth, my state was +very dishevelled) and my quarters with supercilious amusement. There was +one chair, and I set it for him; he sat down, pulling off his +lace-trimmed gloves. + +"You are the gentleman I wanted?" he asked. + +"I have reason to suppose so, your Grace," I answered. + +"Good," said he. "The Duke of Monmouth and I have spoken to the King on +your behalf." + +I bowed grateful acknowledgments. + +"You are free," he continued, to my joy. "You'll leave the Castle in two +hours," he added, to my consternation. But he appeared to perceive +neither effect of his words. "Those are the King's orders," he ended +composedly. + +"But," I cried, "if I leave the Castle how can I fulfil your Grace's +desire?" + +"I said those were the King's orders. I have something to add to them. +Here, I have written it down, that you may understand and not forget. +Your lantern there gives a poor light, but your eyes are young. Read +what is written, sir." + +I took the paper that he handed me and read: + +"In two hours' time be at Canonsgate. The gate will be open. Two serving +men will be there with two horses. A lady will be conducted to the gate +and delivered into your charge. You will ride with her as speedily as +possible to Deal. You will call her your sister, if need arise to speak +of her. Go to the hostelry of the Merry Mariners in Deal, and there +await a gentleman, who will come in the morning and hand you fifty +guineas in gold. Deliver the lady to this gentleman, return immediately +to London, and lie in safe hiding till word reaches you from me." + +I read and turned to him in amazement. + +"Well," he asked, "isn't it plain enough?" + +"The lady I can guess," I answered, "but I pray your Grace to tell me +who is the gentleman." + +"What need is there for you to know? Do you think that more than one +will seek you at the Merry Mariners Tavern and pray your acceptance of +fifty guineas?" + +"But I should like to know who this one is." + +"You'll know when you see him." + +"With respect to your Grace, this is not enough to tell me." + +"You can't be told more, sir." + +"Then I won't go." + +He frowned and beat his gloves on his thigh impatiently. + +"A gentleman, your Grace," said I, "must be trusted, or he cannot +serve." + +He looked round the little cell and asked significantly, + +"Is your state such as to entitle you to make conditions?" + +"Only if your Grace has need of services which I can give or refuse," I +answered, bowing. + +His irritation suddenly vanished, or seemed to vanish. He leant back in +his chair and laughed. + +"Yet all the time," said he, "you've guessed the gentleman! Isn't it so? +Come, Mr Dale, we understand one another. This service, if all goes +well, is simple. But if you're interrupted in leaving the Castle, you +must use your sword. Well, if you use your sword and don't prove +victorious, you may be taken. If you're taken it will be best for us all +that you shouldn't know the name of this gentleman, and best for him and +for me that I should not have mentioned it." + +The little doubt I had harboured was gone. Buckingham and Monmouth were +hand in hand. Buckingham's object was political, Monmouth was to find +his reward in the prize that I was to rescue from the clutches of M. de +Perrencourt and hand over to him at the hostelry in Deal. If success +attended the attempt, I was to disappear; if it failed, my name and I +were to be the shield and bear the brunt. The reward was fifty guineas, +and perhaps a serviceable gratitude in the minds of two great men, +provided I lived to enjoy the fruit of it. + +"You'll accept this task?" asked the Duke. + +The task was to thwart M. de Perrencourt and gratify the Duke of +Monmouth. If I refused it, another might accept and accomplish it; if +such a champion failed, M. de Perrencourt would triumph. If I accepted, +I should accept in the fixed intention of playing traitor to one of my +employers. I might serve Buckingham's turn, I should seek to thwart +Monmouth. + +"Who pays me fifty guineas?" I asked. + +"Faith, I," he answered with a shrug. "Young Monmouth is enough his +father's son to have his pockets always empty." + +On this excuse I settled my point of casuistry in an instant. + +"Then I'll carry the lady away from the Castle," I cried. + +He started, leant forward, and looked hard in my face. "What do you +mean, what do you know?" he asked plainly enough, although silently. But +I had cried out with an appearance of zeal and innocence that baffled +his curiosity, and my guileless expression gave his suspicions no food. +Perhaps, too, he had no wish to enquire. There was little love between +him and Monmouth, for he had been bitterly offended by the honours and +precedence assigned to the Duke; only a momentary coincidence of +interest bound them together in this scheme. If the part that concerned +Buckingham were accomplished, he would not break his heart on account of +the lady not being ready for Monmouth at the hostelry of the Merry +Mariners. + +"I think, then, that we understand one another, Mr Dale?" said he, +rising. + +"Well enough, your Grace," I answered with a bow, and I rapped on the +door. The gaoler opened it. + +"Mr Dale is free to go where he will within the Castle. You can return +to your quarters," said Buckingham. + +The soldier marched off. Buckingham turned to me. + +"Good fortune in your enterprise," he said. "And I give you joy on your +liberty." + +The words were not out of his mouth when a lieutenant and two men +appeared, approaching us at a rapid walk, nay, almost at a run. They +made directly for us, the Duke and I both watching them. The officer's +sword was drawn in his hand, their daggers were fixed in the muzzles of +the soldiers' muskets. + +"What's happened now?" asked Buckingham in a whisper. + +The answer was not long in coming. The lieutenant halted before us, +crying, + +"In the King's name, I arrest you, sir." + +"On my soul, you've a habit of being arrested, sir," said the Duke +sharply. "What's the cause this time?" + +"I don't know," I answered; and I asked the officer, "On what account, +sir?" + +"The King's orders," he answered curtly. "You must come with me at +once." At a sign from him his men took their stand on either side of me. +Verily, my liberty had been short! "I must warn you that we shall stand +at nothing if you try to escape," said the officer sternly. + +"I'm not a fool, sir," I answered. "Where are you going to take me?" + +"Where my orders direct." + +"Come, come," interrupted Buckingham impatiently, "not so much mystery. +You know me? Well, this gentleman is my friend, and I desire to know +where you take him." + +"I crave your Grace's pardon, but I must not answer." + +"Then I'll follow you and discover," cried the Duke angrily. + +"At your Grace's peril," answered the officer firmly. "If you insist, I +must leave one of my men to detain you here. Mr Dale must go alone with +me." + +Wrath and wonder were eloquent on the proud Duke's face. In me this new +misadventure bred a species of resignation. I smiled at him, as I said, + +"My business with your Grace must wait, it seems." + +"Forward, sir," cried the officer, impatiently, and I was marched off at +a round pace, Buckingham not attempting to follow, but turning back in +the direction of the Duke of Monmouth's quarters. The confederates must +seek a new instrument now; if their purpose were to thwart the King's +wishes, they might not find what they wanted again so easily. + +I was conducted straight and quickly to the keep, and passed up the +steps that led to the corridor in which the King was lodged. They +hurried me along, and I had time to notice nothing until I came to a +door near the end of the building, on the western side. Here I found +Darrell, apparently on guard, for his sword was drawn and a pistol in +his left hand. + +"Here, sir, is Mr Dale," said my conductor. + +"Good," answered Darrell briefly. I saw that his face was very pale, and +he accorded me not the least sign of recognition. "Is he armed?" he +asked. + +"You see I have no weapons, Mr Darrell," said I stiffly. + +"Search him," commanded Darrell, ignoring me utterly. + +I grew hot and angry. The soldiers obeyed the order. I fixed my eyes on +Darrell, but he would not meet my gaze; the point of his sword tapped +the floor on which it rested, for his hand was shaking like a leaf. + +"There's no weapon on him," announced the officer. + +"Very well. Leave him with me, sir, and retire with your men to the foot +of the steps. If you hear a whistle, return as quickly as possible." + +The officer bowed, turned about, and departed, followed by his men. +Darrell and I stood facing one another for a moment. + +"In hell's name, what's the meaning of this, Darrell?" I cried. "Has +Madame brought the Bastille over with her, and are you made Governor?" + +He answered not a word. Keeping his sword still in readiness, he +knocked with the muzzle of his pistol on the door by him. After a moment +it was opened, and a head looked out. The face was Sir Thomas +Clifford's; the door was flung wide, a gesture from Darrell bade me +enter. I stepped in, he followed, and the door was instantly shut close +behind us. + +I shall not readily forget the view disclosed to me by the flaring oil +lamps hung in sconces to the ancient smoky walls. I was in a narrow +room, low and not large, scantly furnished with faded richness, and hung +to half its height with mouldering tapestries. The floor was bare, and +uneven from time and use. In the middle of the room was a long table of +polished oak wood; in the centre of it sat the King, on his left was the +Duchess of Orleans, and beyond her the Duke of York; on the King's right +at the end of the table was an empty chair; Clifford moved towards it +now and took his seat; next to him was Arlington, then Colbert de +Croissy, the Special Envoy of the French King. Next to our King was +another empty chair, an arm-chair, like the King's; empty it was, but M. +de Perrencourt leant easily over the back of it, with his eyes fixed on +me. On the table were materials for writing, and a large sheet of paper +faced the King--or M. de Perrencourt; it seemed just between them. There +was nothing else on the table except a bottle of wine and two cups; one +was full to the brim, while the liquor in the other fell short of the +top of the glass by a quarter of an inch. All present were silent; save +M. de Perrencourt, all seemed disturbed; the King's swarthy face +appeared rather pale than swarthy, and his hand rapped nervously on the +table. All this I saw, while Darrell stood rigidly by me, sword in hand. + +Madame was the first to speak; her delicate subtle face lit up with +recognition. + +"Why, I have spoken with this gentleman," she said in a low voice. + +"And I also," said M. de Perrencourt under his breath. + +I think he hardly knew that he spoke, for the words seemed the merest +unconscious outcome of his thoughts. + +The King raised his hand, as though to impose silence. Madame bowed in +apologetic submission, M. de Perrencourt took no heed of the gesture, +although he did not speak again. A moment later he laid his hand on +Colbert's shoulder and whispered to him. I thought I heard just a +word--it was "Fontelles." Colbert looked up and nodded. M. de +Perrencourt folded his arms on the back of the chair, and his face +resumed its impassivity. + +Another moment elapsed before the King spoke. His voice was calm, but +there seemed still to echo in it a trace of some violent emotion newly +passed; a slight smile curved his lips, but there was more malice than +mirth in it. + +"Mr Dale," said he, "the gentleman who stands by you once beguiled an +idle minute for me by telling me of a certain strange prophecy made +concerning you which he had, he said, from your own lips, and in which +my name--or at least some King's name--and yours were quaintly coupled. +You know what I refer to?" + +I bowed low, wondering what in Heaven's name he would be at. It was, no +doubt, high folly to love Mistress Gwyn, but scarcely high treason. +Besides, had not I repented and forsworn her? Ah, but the second member +of the prophecy? I glanced eagerly at M. de Perrencourt, eagerly at the +paper before the King. There were lines on the paper, but I could not +read them, and M. de Perrencourt's face was fully as baffling. + +"If I remember rightly," pursued the King, after listening to a +whispered sentence from his sister, "the prediction foretold that you +should drink of my cup. Is it not so?" + +"It was so, Sir, although what your Majesty quotes was the end, not the +beginning of it." + +For an instant a smile glimmered on the King's face; it was gone and he +proceeded gravely. + +"I am concerned only with that part of it. I love prophecies and I love +to see them fulfilled. You see that cup there, the one that is not quite +full. That cup of wine was poured out for me, the other for my friend M. +de Perrencourt. I pray you, drink of my cup and let the prophecy stand +fulfilled." + +In honest truth I began to think that the King had drunk other cups +before and left them not so full. Yet he looked sober enough, and the +rest were grave and mute. What masquerade was this, to bring me under +guard and threat of death to drink a cup of wine? I would have drunk a +dozen of my free will, for the asking. + +"Your Majesty desires me to drink that cup of wine?" I asked. + +"If you please, sir; the cup that was poured out for me." + +"With all my heart," I cried, and, remembering my manners, I added, "and +with most dutiful thanks to Your Majesty for this signal honour." + +A stir, hardly to be seen, yet certain, ran round the table. Madame +stretched out a hand towards the cup as though with a sudden impulse to +seize it; the King caught her hand and held it prisoner. M. de +Perrencourt suddenly dragged his chair back and, passing in front of it, +stood close over the table. Colbert looked up at him, but his eyes were +fixed on me, and the Envoy went unnoticed. + +"Then come and take it," said the King. + +I advanced after a low bow. Darrell, to my fresh wonder, kept pace with +me, and when I reached the table was still at my side. Before I could +move his sword might be through me or the ball from his pistol in my +brains. The strange scene began to intoxicate me, its stirring +suggestion mounting to my head like fumes of wine. I seized the cup and +held it high in my hand. I looked down in the King's face, and thence to +Madame's; to her I bowed low and cried: + +"By His Majesty's permission I will drain this cup to the honour of the +fairest and most illustrious Princess, Madame the Duchess of Orleans." + +The Duchess half-rose from her seat, crying in a loud whisper, "Not to +me, no, no! I can't have him drink it to me." + +The King still held her hand. + +"Drink it to me, Mr Dale," said he. + +I bowed to him and put the cup to my lips. I was in the act to drink, +when M. de Perrencourt spoke. + +"A moment, sir," he said calmly. "Have I the King's permission to tell +Mr Dale a secret concerning this wine?" + +The Duke of York looked up with a frown, the King turned to M. de +Perrencourt as if in doubt, the Frenchman met his glance and nodded. + +"M. de Perrencourt is our guest," said the King. "He must do as he +will." + +M. de Perrencourt, having thus obtained permission (when was his will +denied him?), leant one hand on the table and, bending across towards +me, said in slow, calm, yet impressive tones: + +"The King, sir, was wearied with business and parched with talking; of +his goodness he detected in me the same condition. So he bade my good +friend and his good subject Mr Darrell furnish him with a bottle of +wine, and Mr Darrell brought a bottle, saying that the King's cellar +was shut and the cellarman in bed, but praying the King to honour him by +drinking his wine, which was good French wine, such as the King loved +and such as he hoped to put before His Majesty at supper presently. Then +His Majesty asked whence it came, and Mr Darrell answered that he was +indebted for it to his good friend Mr Simon Dale, who would be honoured +by the King's drinking it." + +"Why, it's my own wine then!" I cried, smiling now. + +"He spoke the truth, did he?" pursued M. de Perrencourt composedly. "It +is your wine, sent by you to Mr Darrell?" + +"Even so, sir," I answered. "Mr. Darrell's wine was out, and I sent him +some bottles of wine by his servant." + +"You knew for what he needed it?" + +I had forgotten for the moment what Robert said, and hesitated in my +answer. M. de Perrencourt looked intently at me. + +"I think," said I, "that Robert told me Mr Darrell expected the King to +sup with him." + +"He told you that?" he asked sharply. + +"Yes, I remember that," said I, now thoroughly bewildered by the history +and the catechism which seemed necessary to an act so simple as drinking +a glass of my own wine. + +M. de Perrencourt said nothing more, but his eyes were still set on my +face with a puzzled searching expression. His glance confused me, and I +looked round the table. Often at such moments the merest trifles catch +our attention, and now for the first time I observed that a little of +the wine had been spilt on the polished oak of the table; where it had +fallen the bright surface seemed rusted to dull brown. I noticed the +change, and wondered for an idle second how it came that wine turned a +polished table dull. The thing was driven from my head the next moment +by a brief and harsh order from the King. + +"Drink, sir, drink." + +Strained with excitement, I started at the order, and slopped some of +the wine from the cup on my hand. I felt a strange burning where it +fell; but again the King cried, "Drink, sir." + +I hesitated no more. Recalling my wandering wits and determining to play +my part in the comedy, whatever it might mean, I bowed, cried "God save +your Majesty," and raised the cup to my lips. As it touched them, I saw +Madame hide her eyes with her hand and M. de Perrencourt lean farther +across the table, while a short quick gasp of breath came from where +Darrell stood by my side. + +I knew how to take off a bumper of wine. No sippings and swallowings for +me! I laid my tongue well down in the bottom of my mouth that the liquor +might have fair passage to my gullet, and threw my head back as you see +a hen do (in thanks to heaven, they say, though she drinks only water). +Then I tilted the cup, and my mouth was full of the wine. I was +conscious of a taste in it, a strange acrid taste. Why, it was poor +wine, turned sour; it should go back to-morrow; that fool Jonah was a +fool in all things; and I stood disgraced for offering this acrid stuff +to a friend. And he gave it to the King! It was the cruellest chance. +Why---- + +Suddenly, when I had gulped down but one good mouthful, I saw M. de +Perrencourt lean right across the table. Yet I saw him dimly, for my +eyes seemed to grow glazed and the room to spin round me, the figures at +the table taking strange shapes and weird dim faces, and a singing +sounding in my ears, as though the sea roared there and not on Dover +beach. There was a woman's cry, and a man's arm shot out at me. I felt a +sharp blow on my wrist, the cup was dashed from my hand on to the stone +floor, breaking into ten thousand pieces, while the wine made a puddle +at my feet. I stood there for an instant, struck motionless, glaring +into the face that was opposite to mine. It was M. de Perrencourt's, no +longer calm, but pale and twitching. This was the last thing I saw +clearly. The King and his companions were fused in a shifting mass of +trunks and faces, the walls raced round, the singing of the sea roared +and fretted in my ears. I caught my hand to my brow and staggered; I +could not stand, I heard a clatter as though of a sword falling to the +floor, arms were stretched out to receive me and I sank into them, +hearing a murmur close by me, "Simon, Simon!" + +Yet one thing more I heard, before my senses left me--a loud, proud, +imperious voice, the voice that speaks to be obeyed, whose assertion +brooks no contradiction. It rang in my ears where nothing else could +reach them, and even then I knew whence it came. The voice was the voice +of M. de Perrencourt, and it seemed that he spoke to the King of +England. + +"Brother," he cried, "by my faith in God, this gentleman is innocent, +and his life is on our heads, if he lose it." + +I heard no more. Stupor veiled me round in an impenetrable mist. The +figures vanished, the tumultuous singing ceased. A great silence +encompassed me, and all was gone. + + + + +CHAPTER XV + +M. DE PERRENCOURT WHISPERS + + +Slowly the room and the scene came back to me, disengaging themselves +from the darkness which had settled on my eyes, regaining distinctness +and their proper form. I was sitting in a chair, and there were wet +bandages about my head. Those present before were there still, save M. +de Perrencourt, whose place at the table was vacant; the large sheet of +paper and the materials for writing had vanished. There was a fresh +group at the end, next to Arlington; here now sat the Dukes of Monmouth +and Buckingham, carrying on a low conversation with the Secretary. The +King lay back in his chair, frowning and regarding with severe gaze a +man who stood opposite to him, almost where I had been when I drank of +the King's cup. There stood Darrell and the lieutenant of the Guards who +had arrested me, and between them, with clothes torn and muddy, face +scratched and stained with blood, with panting breath and gleaming eyes, +firmly held by either arm, was Phineas Tate the Ranter. They had sent +and caught him then, while I lay unconscious. But what led them to +suspect him? + +There was the voice of a man speaking from the other side of this party +of three. I could not see him, for their bodies came between, but I +recognised the tones of Robert, Darrell's servant. It was he, then, who +had put them on Jonah's track, and, in following that, they must have +come on Phineas. + +"We found the two together," he was saying, "this man and Mr Dale's +servant who had brought the wine from the town. Both were armed with +pistols and daggers, and seemed ready to meet an attack. In the alley in +front of the house that I have named----" + +"Yes, yes, enough of the house," interrupted the King impatiently. + +"In the alley there were two horses ready. We attacked the men at once, +the lieutenant and I making for this one here, the two with us striving +to secure Jonah Wall. This man struggled desperately, but seemed +ignorant of how to handle his weapons. Yet he gave us trouble enough, +and we had to use him roughly. At last we had him, but then we found +that Jonah, who fought like a wild cat, had wounded both the soldiers +with his knife, and, although himself wounded, had escaped by the +stairs. Leaving this man with the lieutenant, I rushed down after him, +but one of the horses was gone, and I heard no sound of hoofs. He had +got a start of us, and is well out of Dover by now." + +I was straining all my attention to listen, yet my eyes fixed themselves +on Phineas, whose head was thrown back defiantly. Suddenly a voice came +from behind my chair. + +"That man must be pursued," said M. de Perrencourt. "Who knows that +there may not be accomplices in this devilish plot? This man has planned +to poison the King; the servant was his confederate. I say, may there +not have been others in the wicked scheme?" + +"True, true," said the King uneasily. "We must lay this Jonah Wall by +the heels. What's known of him?" + +Thinking the appeal was made to me, I strove to rise. M. de +Perrencourt's arm reached over the back of my chair and kept me down. I +heard Darrell take up the story and tell what he knew--and it was as +much as I knew--of Jonah Wall, and what he knew of Phineas Tate also. + +"It is a devilish plot," said the King, who was still greatly shaken and +perturbed. + +Then Phineas spoke loudly, boldly, and with a voice full of the +rapturous fanaticism which drowned conscience and usurped in him +religion's place. + +"Here," he cried, "are the plots, here are the devilish plots! What do +you here? Aye, what do you plot here? Is this man's life more than God's +Truth? Is God's Word to be lost that the sins and debauchery of this man +may continue?" + +His long lean forefinger pointed at the King. A mute consternation fell +for an instant on them all, and none interrupted him. They had no answer +ready for his question; men do not count on such questions being asked +at Court, the manners are too good there. + +"Here are the plots! I count myself blessed to die in the effort to +thwart them! I have failed, but others shall not fail! God's Judgment is +sure. What do you here, Charles Stuart?" + +M. de Perrencourt walked suddenly and briskly round to where the King +sat and whispered in his ear. The King nodded, and said, + +"I think this fellow is mad, but it's a dangerous madness." + +Phineas did not heed him, but cried aloud, + +"And you here--are you all with him? Are you all apostates from God? Are +you all given over to the superstitions of Rome? Are you all here to +barter God's word and----" + +The King sprang to his feet. + +"I won't listen," he cried. "Stop his cursed mouth. I won't listen." He +looked round with fear and alarm in his eyes. I perceived his gaze +turned towards his son and Buckingham. Following it, I saw their faces +alight with eagerness, excitement, and curiosity. Arlington looked down +at the table; Clifford leant his head on his hand. At the other end the +Duke of York had sprung up like his brother, and was glaring angrily at +the bold prisoner. Darrell did not wait to be bidden twice, but whipped +a silk handkerchief from his pocket. + +"Here and now the deed is being done!" cried Phineas. "Here and now----" +He could say no more; in spite of his desperate struggles, he was gagged +and stood silent, his eyes still burning with the message which his lips +were not suffered to utter. The King sank back in his seat, and cast a +furtive glance round the table. Then he sighed, as though in relief, and +wiped his brow. Monmouth's voice came clear, careless, confident. + +"What's this madness?" he asked. "Who here is bartering God's Word? And +for what, pray?" + +No answer was given to him; he glanced in insolent amusement at +Arlington and Clifford, then in insolent defiance at the Duke of York. + +"Is not the religion of the country safe with the King?" he asked, +bowing to his father. + +"So safe, James, that it does not need you to champion it," said the +King dryly; yet his voice trembled a little. Phineas raised that lean +forefinger at him again, and pointed. "Tie the fellow's arms to his +side," the King commanded in hasty irritation; he sighed again when the +finger could no longer point at him, and his eyes again furtively sought +Monmouth's face. The young Duke leant back with a scornful smile, and +the consciousness of the King's regard did not lead him to school his +face to any more seemly expression. My wits had come back now, although +my head ached fiercely and my body was full of acute pain; but I +watched all that passed, and I knew that, come what might, they would +not let Phineas speak. Yet Phineas could know nothing. Nay, but the +shafts of madness, often wide, may once hit the mark. The paper that had +lain between the King and M. de Perrencourt was hidden. + +Again the French gentleman bent and whispered in the King's ear. He +spoke long this time, and all kept silence while he spoke--Phineas +because he must, the lieutenant with surprised eyes, the rest in that +seeming indifference which, as I knew, masked their real deference. At +last the King looked up, nodded, and smiled. His air grew calmer and +more assured, and the trembling was gone from his voice as he spoke. + +"Come, gentlemen," said he, "while we talk this ruffian who has escaped +us makes good pace from Dover. Let the Duke of Monmouth and the Duke of +Buckingham each take a dozen men and scour the country for him. I shall +be greatly in the debt of either who brings him to me." + +The two Dukes started. The service which the King demanded of them +entailed an absence of several hours from the Castle. It might be that +they, or one of them, would learn something from Jonah Wall; but it was +far more likely that they would not find him, or that he would not +suffer himself to be taken alive. Why were they sent, and not a couple +of the officers on duty? But if the King's object were to secure their +absence, the scheme was well laid. I thought now that I could guess +what M. de Perrencourt had said in that whispered conference. Buckingham +had the discretion to recognise when the game went against him. He rose +at once with a bow, declaring that he hastened to obey the King's +command, and would bring the fellow in, dead or alive. Monmouth had less +self-control. He rose indeed, but reluctantly and with a sullen frown on +his handsome face. + +"It's poor work looking for a single man over the countryside," he +grumbled. + +"Your devotion to me will inspire and guide you, James," observed the +King. A chance of mocking another made him himself again as no other +cure could. "Come, lose no time." Then the King added: "Take this fellow +away, and lock him up. Mr Darrell, see that you guard him well, and let +nobody come near him." + +M. de Perrencourt whispered. + +"Above all, let him speak to nobody. He must tell what he knows only at +the right time," added the King. + +"When will that be?" asked Monmouth audibly, yet so low that the King +could feign not to hear and smiled pleasantly at his son. But still the +Duke lingered, although Buckingham was gone and Phineas Tate had been +led out between his custodians. His eyes sought mine, and I read an +appeal in them. That he desired to take me with him in pursuit of Jonah +Wall, I did not think; but he desired above all things to get me out of +that room, to have speech with me, to know that I was free to work out +the scheme which Buckingham had disclosed to me. Nay, it was not +unlikely that his search for Jonah Wall would lead him to the hostelry +of the Merry Mariners at Deal. And for my plan too, which differed so +little yet so much from his, for that also I must be free. I rose to my +feet, delighted to find that I could stand well and that my pains grew +no more severe with movement. + +"I am at your Grace's orders," said I. "May I ride with you, sir?" + +The King looked at me doubtfully. + +"I should be glad of your company," said the Duke, "if your health +allows." + +"Most fully, sir," I answered, and turning to the King I begged his +leave to depart. And that leave I should, as I think, have obtained, but +for the fact that once again M. de Perrencourt whispered to the King. +The King rose from his seat, took M. de Perrencourt's arm and walked +with him to where his Grace stood. I watched them, till a little stifled +laugh caught my attention. Madame's face was merry, and hers the laugh. +She saw my look on her and laughed again, raising her finger to her lips +in a swift stealthy motion. She glanced round apprehensively, but her +action had passed unnoticed; the Duke of York seemed sunk in a dull +apathy, Clifford and Arlington were busy in conversation. What did she +mean? Did she confess that I held their secret and impose silence on me +by a more than royal command, by the behest of bright eyes and red lips +which dared me to betray their confidence? On the moment's impulse I +bowed assent; Madame nodded merrily and waved a kiss with her dainty +hand; no word passed, but I felt that I, being a gentleman, could tell +no man alive what I suspected, aye, what I knew, concerning M. de +Perrencourt. Thus lightly are pledges given when ladies ask them. + +The Duke of Monmouth started back with a sudden angry motion. The King +smiled at him; M. de Perrencourt laid a hand, decked with rich rings, on +his lace cuff. Madame rose, laughing still, and joined the three. I +cannot tell what passed--alas, that the matters of highest interest are +always elusive!--but a moment later Monmouth fell back with as sour a +look as I have ever seen on a man's face, bowed slightly and not +over-courteously, faced round and strode through the doorway, opening +the door for himself. I heard Madame's gay laugh, again the King spoke, +Madame cried, "Fie," and hid her face with her hand. M. de Perrencourt +advanced towards me; the King caught his arm. "Pooh, he knows already," +muttered Perrencourt, half under his breath, but he gave way, and the +King came to me first. + +"Sir," said he, "the Duke of Monmouth has had the dutiful kindness to +release his claim on your present services, and to set you free to serve +me." + +I bowed very low, answering, + +"His Grace is bountiful of kindness to me, and has given the greatest +proof of it in enabling me to serve Your Majesty." + +"My pleasure is," pursued the King, "that you attach yourself to my +friend M. de Perrencourt here, and accompany him and hold yourself at +his disposal until further commands from me reach you." + +M. de Perrencourt stepped forward and addressed me. + +"In two hours' time, sir," said he, "I beg you to be ready to accompany +me. A ship lies yonder at the pier, waiting to carry His Excellency M. +Colbert de Croissy and myself to Calais to-night on business of moment. +Since the King gives you to me, I pray your company." + +"Till then, Mr Dale, adieu," said the King. "Not a word of what has +passed here to-night to any man--or any woman. Be in readiness. You know +enough, I think, to tell you that you receive a great honour in M. de +Perrencourt's request. Your discretion will show your worthiness. Kiss +Madame's hand and leave us." + +They both smiled at me, and I stood half-bewildered. "Go," said M. de +Perrencourt with a laugh, clapping me on the shoulder. The two turned +away. Madame held out her hand towards me; I bent and kissed it. + +"Mr Dale," said she, "you have all the virtues." + +"Alas, Madame, I fear you don't mean to commend me." + +"Yes, for a rarity, at least. But you have one vice." + +"It shall be mended, if your Royal Highness will tell its name." + +"Nay, I shall increase it by naming it. But here it is; your eyes are +too wide open, Mr Dale." + +"My mother, Madame, used to accuse me of a trick of keeping them +half-shut." + +"Your mother had not seen you at Court, sir." + +"True, Madame, nor had my eyes beheld your Royal Highness." + +She laughed, pleased with a compliment which was well in the mode then, +though my sons may ridicule it; but as she turned away she added, + +"I shall not be with you to-night, and M. de Perrencourt hates a staring +eye." + +I was warned and I was grateful. But there I stopped. Since Heaven had +given me my eyes, nothing on earth could prevent them opening when +matter worth the looking was presented. And perhaps they might be open, +and yet seem shut to M. de Perrencourt. With a final salute to the +exalted company I went out; as I went they resumed their places at the +table, M. de Perrencourt saying, "Come, let us finish. I must be away +before dawn." + +I returned to my quarters in no small turmoil; yet my head, though it +still ached sorely from the effect of tasting that draught so +fortunately dashed from my hand, was clear enough, and I could put +together all the pieces of the puzzle save one. But that one chanced to +be of some moment to me, for it was myself. The business with the King +which had brought M. de Perrencourt so stealthily to Dover was finished, +or was even now being accomplished; his presence and authority had +reinforced Madame's persuasions, and the treaty was made. But in these +high affairs I had no place. If I would find my work I must look +elsewhere, to the struggle that had arisen between M. de Perrencourt and +his Grace the Duke of Monmouth, in which the stakes were not wars or +religions, and the quarrel of simpler nature. In that fight Louis (for I +did not trouble to maintain his disguise in my thoughts) had won, as he +was certain to win if he put forth his strength. My heart was sore for +Mistress Barbara. I knew that she was to be the spoil of the French +King's victory, and that the loss to the beauty of his Court caused by +the departure of Mlle. de Querouaille was to find compensation. But, +still, where was my part? I saw only one thing: that Louis had taken a +liking for me, and might well choose me as his instrument, if an +instrument were needed. But for what and where it was needed I could not +conceive; since all France was under his feet, and a thousand men would +spring up to do his bidding at a word--aye, let the bidding be what it +might, and the task as disgraceful as you will. What were the qualities +in me or in my condition that dictated his choice baffled conjecture. + +Suddenly came a low knock on the door. I opened it and a man slipped in +quickly and covertly. To my amazement, I saw Carford. He had kept much +out of sight lately; I supposed that he had discovered all he wanted +from Monmouth's ready confidence, and had carried his ill-won gains to +his paymaster. But supposing that he would keep up the comedy I said +stiffly, + +"You come to me from the Duke of Monmouth, my lord?" + +He was in no mood for pretence to-night. He was in a state of great +excitement, and, brushing aside all reserve, made at once for the point. + +"I am come," said he, "to speak a word with you. In an hour you're to +sail for France?" + +"Yes," said I. "Those are the King's orders." + +"But in an hour you could be so far from here that he with whom you go +could not wait for your return." + +"Well, my lord?" + +"To be brief, what's your price to fly and not to sail?" + +We were standing, facing one another. I answered him slowly, trying to +catch his purpose. + +"Why are you willing to pay me a price?" said I. "For it's you who +pays?" + +"Yes, I pay. Come, man, you know why you go and who goes with you?" + +"M. de Perrencourt and M. Colbert go," said I. "Why I go, I don't know." + +"Nor who else goes?" he asked, looking in my eyes. I paused for a moment +and then answered, + +"Yes, she goes." + +"And you know for what purpose?" + +"I can guess the purpose." + +"Well, I want to go in your place. I have done with that fool Monmouth, +and the French King would suit me well for a master." + +"Then ask him to take you also." + +"He will not; he'll rather take you." + +"Then I'll go," said I. + +He drew a step nearer to me. I watched him closely, for, on my life, I +did not know in what mood he was, and his honour was ill to lean on as a +waving reed. + +"What will you gain by going?" he asked. "And if you fly he will take +me. Somebody he must take." + +"Is not M. Colbert enough?" + +He looked at me suspiciously, as though he thought that I assumed +ignorance. + +"You know very well that Colbert wouldn't serve his purpose." + +"By my faith," I cried, "I don't know what his purpose is." + +"You swear it?" he asked in distrust and amazement. + +"Most willingly," I answered. "It is simple truth." + +He gazed at me still as though but half-convinced. + +"Then what's your purpose in going?" he asked. + +"I obey my orders. Yet I have a purpose, and one I had rather trust with +myself than with you, my lord." + +"Pray, sir, what is it?" + +"To serve and guard the lady who goes also." + +After a moment of seeming surprise, he broke into a sneering laugh. + +"You go to guard her?" he said. + +"Her and her honour," I answered steadily. "And I do not desire to +resign that task into your hands, my lord." + +"What will you do? How will you serve her?" he asked. + +A sudden suspicion of him seized me. His manner had changed to a forced +urbanity; when he was civil he was treacherous. + +"That's my secret, my lord," I answered. "I have preparations to make. I +pray you, give me leave." I opened the door and held it for him. + +His rage mastered him; he grew red and the veins swelled on his +forehead. + +"By heaven, you shan't go," he cried, and clapped his hand to his sword. + +"Who says that Mr Dale shall not go?" + +A man stood in the doorway, plainly attired, wearing boots, and a cloak +that half-hid his face. Yet I knew him, and Carford knew him. Carford +shrank back, I bowed, and we both bared our heads. M. de Perrencourt +advanced into the room, fixing his eyes on Carford. + +"My lord," he said, "when I decline a gentleman's services I am not to +be forced into accepting them, and when I say a gentleman shall go with +me he goes. Have you a quarrel with me on that account?" + +Carford found no words in which to answer him, but his eyes told that he +would have given the world to draw his sword against M. de Perrencourt, +or, indeed, against the pair of us. A gesture of the newcomer's arm +motioned him to the door. But he had one sentence more to hear before he +was suffered to slink away. + +"Kings, my lord," said M. de Perrencourt, "may be compelled to set spies +about the persons of others. They do not need them about their own." + +Carford turned suddenly white, and his teeth set. I thought that he +would fly at the man who rebuked him so scornfully; but such an outbreak +meant death; he controlled himself. He passed out, and Louis, with a +careless laugh, seated himself on my bed. I stood respectfully opposite +to him. + +"Make your preparations," said he. "In half an hour's time we depart." + +I obeyed him, setting about the task of filling my saddle-bags with my +few possessions. He watched me in silence for awhile. At last he spoke. + +"I have chosen you to go with me," he said, "because although you know a +thing, you don't speak of it, and although you see a thing, you can +appear blind." + +I remembered that Madame thought my blindness deficient, but I received +the compliment in silence. + +"These great qualities," he pursued, "make a man's fortune. You shall +come with me to Paris." + +"To Paris, sir?" + +"Yes. I'll find work for you there, and those who do my work lack +neither reward nor honour. Come, sir, am I not as good a King to serve +as another?" + +"Your Majesty is the greatest Prince in Christendom," said I. For such +indeed all the world held him. + +"Yet even the greatest Prince in Christendom fears some things," said +he, smiling. + +"Surely nothing, sir?" + +"Why, yes. A woman's tongue, a woman's tears, a woman's rage, a woman's +jealousy; I say, Mr Dale, a woman's jealousy." + +It was well that my preparations were done, or they had never been done. +I was staring at him now with my hands dropped to my side. + +"I am married," he pursued. "That is little." And he shrugged his +shoulders. + +"Little enough at Courts, in all conscience," thought I; perhaps my face +betrayed something of the thought, for King Louis smiled. + +"But I am more than a husband," he pursued. "I am a lover, Mr Dale." + +Not knowing what comment to make on this, I made none. I had heard the +talk about his infatuation, but it was not for me to mention the lady's +name. Nor did the King name her. He rose and approached me, looking full +in my face. + +"You are neither a husband nor a lover?" he asked. + +"Neither, sir." + +"You know Mistress Quinton?" + +"Yes, sir." + +He was close to me now, and he whispered to me as he had whispered to +the King in the Council Chamber. + +"With my favour and such a lady for his wife, a gentleman might climb +high." + +I heard the words, and I could not repress a start. At last the puzzle +was pieced, and my part plain. I knew now the work I was to do, the +price of the reward I was to gain. Had he said it a month before, when I +was not yet trained to self-control and concealment, King as he was, I +would have drawn my sword on him. For good or evil dissimulation is soon +learnt. With a great effort I repressed my agitation and hid my +disgust. King Louis smiled at me, deeming what he had suggested no +insult. + +"Your wedding shall take place at Calais," he said; and I (I wonder now +to think of it) bowed and smiled. + +"Be ready in a quarter of an hour," said he, and left me with a gracious +smile. + +I stood there where I was for the best part of the time still left to +me. I saw why Carford desired the mission on which I went, why Madame +bade me practise the closing of my eyes, how my fortune was to come from +the hand of King Louis. An English gentleman and his wife would travel +back with the King; the King would give his favour to both; and the lady +was Barbara Quinton. + +I turned at last, and made my final preparation. It was simple; I loaded +my pistol and hid it about me, and I buckled on my sword, seeing that it +moved easily in the sheath. By fortune's will, I had to redeem the +pledge which I had given to my lord; his daughter's honour now knew no +safety but in my arm and wits. Alas, how slender the chance was, and how +great the odds! + +Then a sudden fear came upon me. I had lived of late in a Court where +honour seemed dead, and women, no less than men, gave everything for +wealth or place. I had seen nothing of her, no word had come from her to +me. She had scorned Monmouth, but might she not be won to smile on M. de +Perrencourt? I drove the thought from me, but it came again and again, +shaming me and yet fastening on me. She went with M. de Perrencourt; did +she go willingly? + +With that thought beating in my brain, I stepped forth to my adventure. + + + + +CHAPTER XVI + +M. DE PERRENCOURT WONDERS + + +As I walked briskly from my quarters down to the sea, M. de +Perrencourt's last whisper, "With my favour and such a lady for his +wife, a gentleman might climb high," echoed in my ears so loudly and +insistently as to smother all thought of what had passed in the Council +Chamber, and to make of no moment for me the plots and plans alike of +Kings, Catholics, and Ranters. That night I cared little though the King +had signed away the liberties of our religion and his realm; I spared no +more than a passing wonder for the attempt to which conscience run mad +had urged Phineas Tate, and in which he in his turn had involved my +simpleton of a servant. Let them all plot and plan; the issue lay in +God's hand, above my knowledge and beyond my power. My task was enough, +and more than enough, for my weakness; to it I turned, with no fixed +design and no lively hope, with a prayer for success only, and a resolve +not to be King Louis' catspaw. A month ago I might have marvelled that +he offered such a part to any gentleman; the illusions of youth and +ignorance were melting fast; now I was left to ask why he had selected +one so humble for a place that great men held in those days with open +profit and without open shame; aye, and have held since. For although I +have lived to call myself a Whig, I do not hold that the devil left +England for good and all with the House of Stuart. + +We were on the quay now, and the little ship lay ready for us. A very +light breeze blew off the land, enough to carry us over if it held, but +promising a long passage; the weather was damp and misty. M. Colbert had +shrugged his shoulders over the prospect of a fog; his master would hear +of no delay, and the King had sent for Thomas Lie, a famous pilot of the +Cinque Ports, to go with us till the French coast should be sighted. The +two Kings were walking up and down together in eager and engrossed +conversation. Looking about, I perceived the figures of two women +standing near the edge of the water. I saw Colbert approach them and +enter into conversation; soon he came to me, and with the smoothest of +smiles bade me charge myself with the care of Mistress Quinton. + +"Madame," said he, "has sent a discreet and trustworthy waiting-woman +with her, but a lady needs a squire, and we are still hampered by +business." With which he went off to join his master, bestowing another +significant smile on me. + +I lost no time in approaching Barbara. The woman with her was stout and +short, having a broad hard face; she stood by her charge square and +sturdy as a soldier on guard. Barbara acknowledged my salutation +stiffly; she was pale and seemed anxious, but in no great distress or +horror. But did she know what was planned for her or the part I was to +play? The first words she spoke showed me that she knew nothing, for +when I began to feel my way, saying: "The wind is fair for us," she +started, crying: "For us? Why, are you coming with us?" + +I glanced at the waiting-woman, who stood stolidly by. + +"She understands no English," said Barbara, catching my meaning. "You +can speak freely. Why are you coming?" + +"Nay, but why are you going?" + +She answered me with a touch of defiance in her voice. + +"The Duchess of York is to return with Madame on a visit to the French +Court, and I go to prepare for her coming." + +So this was the story by which they were inducing her to trust herself +in their hands. Doubtless they might have forced her, but deceit +furnished a better way. Yet agitation had mingled with defiance in her +voice. In an instant she went on: + +"You are coming, in truth are you? Don't jest with me." + +"Indeed I'm coming, madame. I hope my company is to your liking?" + +"But why, why?" + +"M. de Perrencourt has one answer to that question and I another." + +Her eyes questioned me, but she did not put her question into words. +With a little shiver she said: + +"I am glad to be quit of this place." + +"You're right in that," I answered gravely. + +Her cheek flushed, and her eyes fell to the ground. + +"Yes," she murmured. + +"But Dover Castle is not the only place where danger lies," said I. + +"Madame has sworn----" she began impetuously. + +"And M. de Perrencourt?" I interrupted. + +"He--he gave his word to his sister," she said in a very low voice. Then +she stretched her hand out towards me, whispering, "Simon, Simon!" + +I interpreted the appeal, although it was but an inarticulate cry, +witnessing to a fear of dangers unknown. The woman had edged a little +away, but still kept a careful watch. I paid no heed to her. I must give +my warning. + +"My services are always at your disposal, Mistress Barbara," said I, +"even without the right to them that M. de Perrencourt purposes to give +you." + +"I don't understand. How can he--Why, you wouldn't enter my service?" + +She laughed a little as she made this suggestion, but there was an +eagerness in her voice; my heart answered to it, for I saw that she +found comfort in the thought of my company. + +"M. de Perrencourt," said I, "purposes that I should enter your service, +and his also." + +"Mine and his?" she murmured, puzzled and alarmed. + +I did not know how to tell her; I was ashamed. But the last moments +fled, and she must know before we were at sea. + +"Yonder where we're going," I said, "the word of M. de Perrencourt is +law and his pleasure right." + +She took alarm, and her voice trembled. + +"He has promised--Madame told me," she stammered. "Ah, Simon, must I go? +Yet I should be worse here." + +"You must go. What can we do here? I go willingly." + +"For what?" + +"To serve you, if it be in my power. Will you listen?" + +"Quick, quick. Tell me!" + +"Of all that he swore, he will observe nothing. Hush, don't cry out. +Nothing." + +I feared that she would fall, for she reeled where she stood. I dared +not support her. + +"If he asks a strange thing, agree to it. It's the only way." + +"What? What will he ask?" + +"He will propose a husband to you." + +She tore at the lace wrapping about her throat as though it were +choking her; her eyes were fixed on mine. I answered her gaze with a +steady regard, and her cheek grew red with a hot blush. + +"His motive you may guess," said I. "There is convenience in a husband." + +I had put it at last plainly enough, and when I had said it I averted my +eyes from hers. + +"I won't go," I heard her gasp. "I'll throw myself at the King's feet." + +"He'll make a clever jest on you," said I bitterly. + +"I'll implore M. de Perrencourt----" + +"His answer will be--polite." + +For a while there was silence. Then she spoke again in a low whisper; +her voice now sounded hard and cold, and she stood rigid. + +"Who is the man?" she asked. Then she broke into a sudden passion, and, +forgetting caution, seized me by the arm, whispering, "Have you your +sword?" + +"Aye, it is here." + +"Will you use it for me?" + +"At your bidding." + +"Then use it on the body of the man." + +"I'm the man," said I. + +"You, Simon!" + +Now what a poor thing is this writing, and how small a fragment of truth +can it hold! "You, Simon!" The words are nothing, but they came from her +lips full-charged with wonder, most incredulous, yet coloured with +sudden hope of deliverance. She doubted, yet she caught at the strange +chance. Nay, there was more still, but what I could not tell; for her +eyes lit up with a sudden sparkle, which shone a brief moment and then +was screened by drooping lids. + +"That is why I go," said I. "With M. de Perrencourt's favour and such a +lady for my wife I might climb high. So whispered M. de Perrencourt +himself." + +"You!" she murmured again; and again her cheek was red. + +"We must not reach Calais, if we can escape by the way. Be near me +always on the ship, fortune may give us a chance. And if we come to +Calais, be near me, while you can." + +"But if we can't escape?" + +I was puzzled by her. It must be that she found in my company new hope +of escape. Hence came the light in her eyes, and the agitation which +seemed to show excitement rather than fear. But I had no answer to her +question, "If we can't escape?" + +Had I been ready with fifty answers, time would have failed for one. M. +Colbert called to me. The King was embracing his guest for the last +time; the sails were spread; Thomas Lie was at the helm. I hastened to +obey M. Colbert's summons. He pointed to the King; going forward, I +knelt and kissed the hand extended to me. Then I rose and stood for a +moment, in case it should be the King's pleasure to address me. M. de +Perrencourt was by his side. + +The King's face wore a smile and the smile broadened as he spoke to me. + +"You're a wilful man, Mr Dale," said he, "but fortune is more wilful +still. You would not woo her, therefore woman-like she loves you. You +were stubborn, but she is resolute to overcome your stubbornness. But +don't try her too far. She stands waiting for you open-armed. Isn't it +so, my brother?" + +"Your Majesty speaks no more than truth," answered M. de Perrencourt. + +"Will you accept her embraces?" asked the King. + +I bowed very low and raised my head with a cheerful and gay smile. + +"Most willingly," I answered. + +"And what of reservations, Mr. Dale?" + +"May it please your Majesty, they do not hold across the water." + +"Good. My brother is more fortunate than I. God be with you, Mr Dale." + +At that I smiled again. And the King smiled. My errand was a strange one +to earn a benediction. + +"Be off with you," he said with an impatient laugh. "A man must pick his +words in talking with you." A gesture of his hand dismissed me. I went +on board and watched him standing on the quay as Thomas Lie steered us +out of harbour and laid us so as to catch the wind. As we moved, the +King turned and began to mount the hill. + +We moved, but slowly. For an hour we made way. All this while I was +alone on deck, except for the crew and Thomas Lie. The rest had gone +below; I had offered to follow, but a gesture from M. Colbert sent me +back. The sense of helplessness was on me, overwhelming and bitter. When +the time came for my part I should be sent for, until then none had need +of me. I could guess well enough what was passing below, and I found no +comfort in the knowledge of it. Up and down I walked quickly, as a man +torn and tormented with thoughts that his steps, however hasty, cannot +outstrip. The crew stared at me, the pilot himself spared a glance of +amused wonder at the man who strode to and fro so restlessly. Once I +paused at the stern of the ship, where Lie's boat, towed behind us, cut +through the water as a diamond cuts a pane of glass. For an instant I +thought of leaping in and making a bid for liberty alone. The strange +tone in which "You, Simon!" had struck home to my heart forbade me. But +I was sick with the world, and turned from the boat to gaze over the +sea. There is a power in the quiet water by night; it draws a man with a +promise of peace in the soft lap of forgetfulness. So strong is the +allurement that, though I count myself sane and of sound mind, I do not +love to look too long on the bosom of deep waters when the night is +full; for the doubt comes then whether to live is sanity and not rather +to die and have an end of the tossing of life and the unresting +dissatisfaction of our state. That night the impulse came on me +mightily, and I fought it, forcing myself to look, refusing the weakness +of flight from the seductive siren. For I was fenced round with troubles +and of a sore heart: there lay the open country and a heart at peace. + +Suddenly I gave a low exclamation; the water, which had fled from us as +we moved, seeming glad to pass us by and rush again on its race +undisturbed, stood still. From the swill came quiet, out of the shimmer +a mirror disentangled itself, and lay there on the sea, smooth and +bright. But it grew dull in an instant; I heard the sails flap, but saw +them no more. A dense white vapour settled on us, the length of my arm +bounded my sight, all movement ceased, and we lay on the water, inert +and idle. I leant beside the gunwale, feeling the fog moist on my face, +seeing in its baffling folds a type of the toils that bound and fettered +me. Now voices rose round me, and again fell; the crew questioned, the +captain urged; I heard Colbert's voice as he hurried on deck. The +sufficient answer was all around us; where the mist was there could be +no wind; in grumbling the voices died away. + +The rest of what passed seems even now a strange dream that I can hardly +follow, whose issue alone I know, which I can recover only dimly and +vaguely in my memory. I was there in the stern, leaning over, listening +to the soft sound of the sea as Thomas Lie's boat rolled lazily from +side to side and the water murmured gently under the gentle stroke. Then +came voices again just by my shoulder. I did not move. I knew the tones +that spoke, the persuasive commanding tones hard to resist, apt to +compel. Slowly I turned myself round; the speakers must be within eight +or ten feet of me, but I could not see them. Still they came nearer. +Then I heard the sound of a sob, and at it sprang to rigidity, poised on +ready feet, with my hand on the hilt of my sword. + +"You're weary now," said the smooth strong voice. "We will talk again in +the morning. From my heart I grieve to have distressed you. Come, we'll +find the gentleman whom you desire to speak with, and I'll trouble you +no more. Indeed I count myself fortunate in having asked my good brother +for one whose company is agreeable to you. For your sake, your friend +shall be mine. Come, I'll take you to him, and then leave you." + +Barbara's sobs ceased; I did not wonder that his persuasions won her to +repose and almost to trust. It seemed that the mist grew a little less +thick; I saw their figures. Knowing that at the same moment I must +myself be seen, I spoke on the instant. + +"I am here, at Mistress Quinton's service." + +M. de Perrencourt (to call him still by his chosen name) came forward +and groped his way to my arm, whispering in French, + +"All is easy. Be gentle with her. Why, she turns to you of her own +accord! All will go smoothly." + +"You may be sure of it, sir," I said. "Will you leave her with me?" + +"Yes," he answered. "I can trust you, can't I?" + +"I may be trusted to death," I answered, smiling behind the mist's kind +screen. + +Barbara was by his side now; with a bow he drew back. I traced him as he +went towards where Lie stood, and I heard a murmur of voices as he and +the helmsman spoke to one another. Then I heard no more, and lost sight +of him in the thick close darkness. I put out my hand and felt for +Barbara's; it came straight to mine. + +"You--you'll stay with me?" she murmured. "I'm frightened, Simon." + +As she spoke, I felt on my cheek the cold breath of the wind. Turning my +full face, I felt it more. The breeze was rising, the sails flapped +again, Thomas Lie's boat buffeted the waves with a quicker beat. When I +looked towards her, I saw her face, framed in mist, pale and wet with +tears, beseeching me. There at that moment, born in danger and nursed by +her helplessness, there came to me a new feeling, that was yet an old +one; now I knew that I would not leave her. Nay, for an instant I was +tempted to abandon all effort and drift on to the French shore, looking +there to play my own game, despite of her and despite of King Louis +himself. But the risk was too desperate. + +"No, I won't leave you," I said in low tones that trembled under the +fresh burden which they bore. + +But yes, the wind rose, the mist began to lift, the water was running +lazily from under our keel, the little boat bobbed and danced to a +leisurely tune. + +"The wind serves," cried Thomas Lie. "We shall make land in two hours if +it hold as it blows now." + +The plan was in my head. It was such an impulse as coming to a man seems +revelation and forbids all questioning of its authority. I held Barbara +still by the hand, and drew her to me. There, leaning over the gunwale, +we saw Thomas Lie's boat moving after us. His sculls lay ready. I looked +in her eyes, and was answered with wonder, perplexity, and dawning +intelligence. + +"I daren't let him carry you to Calais," I whispered; "we should be +helpless there." + +"But you--it's you." + +"As his tool and his fool," I muttered. Low as I spoke, she heard me, +and asked despairingly: + +"What then, Simon? What can we do?" + +"If I go there, will you jump into my arms? The distance isn't far." + +"Into the boat! Into your arms in the boat?" + +"Yes. I can hold you. There's a chance if we go now--now, before the +mist lifts more." + +"If we're seen?" + +"We're no worse off." + +"Yes, I'll jump, Simon." + +We were moving now briskly enough, though the wind came in fitful gusts +and with no steady blast, and the mist now lifted, now again swathed us +in close folds. I gripped Barbara's hand, whispering, "Be ready," and, +throwing one leg over the side, followed with the other, and dropped +gently into Thomas Lie's boat. It swayed under me, but it was broad in +the beam and rode high in the water; no harm happened. Then I stood +square in the bows and whispered "Now!" For the beating of my heart I +scarcely heard my own voice, but I spoke louder than I knew. At the same +instant that Barbara sprang into my arms, there was a rush of feet +across the deck, an oath rang loud in French, and another figure +appeared on the gunwale, with one leg thrown over. Barbara was in my +arms. I felt her trembling body cling to mine, but I disengaged her +grasp quickly and roughly--for gentleness asks time, and time had we +none--and set her down in the boat. Then I turned to the figure above +me. A momentary glance showed me the face of King Louis. I paid no more +heed, but drew my knife and flung myself on the rope that bound the boat +to the ship. + +Then the breeze dropped, and the fog fell thick and enveloping. My knife +was on the rope and I severed the strands with desperate strength. One +by one I felt them go. As the last went I raised my head. From the ship +above me flashed the fire of a pistol, and a ball whistled by my ear. +Wild with excitement, I laughed derisively. The last strand was gone, +slowly the ship forged ahead; but then the man on the gunwale gathered +himself together and sprang across the water between us. He came full on +the top of me, and we fell together on the floor of the boat. By the +narrowest chance we escaped foundering, but the sturdy boat proved true. +I clutched my assailant with all my strength, pinning him arm to arm, +breast to breast, shoulder to shoulder. His breath was hot on my face. I +gasped "Row, row." From the ship came a sudden alarmed cry: "The boat, +the boat!" But already the ship grew dim and indistinct. + +"Row, row," I muttered; then I heard the sculls set in their tholes, and +with a slow faltering stroke the boat was guided away from the ship, +moving nearly at a right angle to it. I put out all my strength. I was +by far a bigger man than the King, and I did not spare him. I hugged him +with a bear's hug, and his strength was squeezed out of him. Now I was +on the top and he below. I twisted his pistol from his hand and flung it +overboard. Tumultuous cries came from the blurred mass that was the +ship; but the breeze had fallen, the fog was thick, they had no other +boat. The King lay still. "Give me the sculls," I whispered. Barbara +yielded them; her hands were cold as death when they encountered mine. +She scrambled into the stern. I dragged the King back--he was like a +log now--till he lay with the middle of his body under the seat on which +I sat; his face looked up from between my feet. Then I fell to rowing, +choosing no course except that our way should be from the ship, and +ready, at any movement of the still form below me, to drop my sculls and +set my pistol at his head. Yet till that need came I bent lustily to my +work, and when I looked over the sea the ship was not to be seen, but +all around hung the white vapour, the friendly accomplice of my +enterprise. + +That leap of his was a gallant thing. He knew that I was his master in +strength, and that I stood where no motive of prudence could reach and +no fear restrain me. If I were caught, the grave or a French prison +would be my fate; to get clear off, he might suppose that I should count +even the most august life in Christendom well taken. Yet he had leapt, +and, before heaven, I feared that I had killed him. If it were so, I +must set Barbara in safety, and then follow him where he was gone; there +would be no place for me among living men, and I had better choose my +own end than be hunted to death like a mad dog. These thoughts spun +through my brain as my arms drove the blades into the water, on an +aimless course through the mist, till the mass of the ship utterly +disappeared, and we three were alone on the sea. Then the fear overcame +me. I rested on my oars, and leaning over to where Barbara sat in the +stern, I shaped with awe-struck lips the question--"Is he dead? My God, +is he dead?" + +She sat there, herself, as it seemed, half-dead. But at my words she +shivered and with an effort mastered her relaxed limbs. Slowly she +dropped on her knees by the King and raised his head in her arms. She +felt in her bosom and drew out a flask of salts, which she set to his +nostrils. I watched his face; the muscles of it contracted into a +grimace, then were smoothed again to calmness; he opened his eyes. +"Thank God," I muttered to myself; and the peril to him being gone by, I +remembered our danger, and taking out my pistol looked to it, and sat +dangling it in my hand. + +Barbara, still supporting the King's head, looked up at me. + +"What will become of us?" she asked. + +"At least we shan't be married in Calais," I answered with a grim smile. + +"No," she murmured, and bent again over the King. + +Now his eyes were wide-opened, and I fixed mine on them. I saw the +return of consciousness and intelligence; the quick glance that fell on +me, on the oars, on the pistol in my hand, witnessed to it. Then he +raised himself on his elbow, Barbara drawing quickly away, and so rested +an instant, regarding me still. He drew himself up into a sitting +posture, and seemed as though he would rise to his feet. I raised the +pistol and pointed it at him. + +"No higher, if you please," said I. "It's a matter of danger to walk +about in so small a boat, and you came near to upsetting us before." + +He turned his head and saw Barbara, then gazed round on the sea. No sail +was to be seen, and the fog still screened the boat in impenetrable +solitude. The sight brought to his mind a conviction of what his plight +was. Yet no dismay nor fear showed in his face. He sat there, regarding +me with an earnest curiosity. At last he spoke. + +"You were deluding me all the time?" he asked. + +"Even so," said I, with an inclination of my head. + +"You did not mean to take my offer?" + +"Since I am a gentleman, I did not." + +"I also am accounted a gentleman, sir." + +"Nay, I took you for a prince," said I. + +He made me no answer, but, looking round him again, observed: + +"The ship must be near. But for this cursed fog she would be in sight." + +"It's well for us she isn't," I said. + +"Why, sir?" he asked brusquely. + +"If she were, there's the pistol for the lady, and this sword here for +you and me," said I coolly. For a man may contrive to speak coolly, +though his bearing be a lie and his heart beat quick. + +"You daren't," he cried in amazement. + +"I should be unwilling," I conceded. + +For an instant there was silence. Then came Barbara's voice, soft and +fearful: + +"Simon, the fog lifts." + +It was true. The breeze blew and the fog lifted. Louis' eyes sparkled. +All three of us, by one impulse, looked round on the sea. The fresh wind +struck my cheek, and the enveloping folds curled lazily away. Barbara +held up her hand and pointed. Away on the right, dimly visible, just +detached from the remaining clouds of mist, was a dark object, sitting +high on the water. A ship it was, in all likelihood the king's ship. We +should be sighted soon. My eyes met the King's and his were exultant and +joyful; he did not yet believe that I would do what I had said, and he +thought that the trap closed on us again. For still the mist rose, and +in a few moments they on the ship must see us. + +"You shall pay for your trick," he said between his teeth. + +"It is very likely," said I. "But I think that the debt will be paid to +your Majesty's successor." + +Still he did not believe. I burst into a laugh of grim amusement. These +great folk find it hard to understand how sometimes their greatness is +nothing, and the thing is man to man; but now and then fortune takes a +whim and teaches them the lesson for her sport. + +"But since you are a King," said I, "you shall have your privilege. You +shall pass out before the lady. See, the ship is very plain now. Soon we +shall be plain to the ship. Come, sir, you go first." + +He looked at me, now puzzled and alarmed. + +"I am unarmed," he said. + +"It is no fight," I answered. Then I turned to Barbara. "Go and sit in +the stern," I said, "and cover your face with your hands." + +"Simon, Simon," she moaned, but she obeyed me, and threw herself down, +burying her face in her hands. I turned to the king. + +"How will you die, sir?" said I quietly, and, as I believe, in a civil +manner. + +A sudden shout rang in my ears. I would not look away from him, lest he +should spring on me or fling himself from the boat. But I knew whence +the shout came, for it was charged with joy and the relief of unbearable +anxiety. The ship was the King's ship and his servants had seen their +master. Yet they would not dare to fire without his orders, and with the +risk of killing him; therefore I was easy concerning musket shot. But we +must not come near enough for a voice to be heard from us, and a pistol +to carry to us. + +"How will you die?" I asked again. His eyes questioned me. I added, "As +God lives I will." And I smiled at him. + + + + +CHAPTER XVII + +WHAT BEFELL MY LAST GUINEA + + +There is this in great station, that it imparts to a man a bearing +sedate in good times and debonair in evil. A king may be unkinged, as +befell him whom in my youth we called the Royal Martyr, but he need not +be unmanned. He has tasted of what men count the best, and, having found +even in it much bitterness, turns to greet fortune's new caprice smiling +or unmoved. Thus it falls out that though princes live no better lives +than common men, yet for the most part they die more noble deaths; their +sunset paints all their sky, and we remember not how they bore their +glorious burden, but with what grace they laid it down. Much is forgiven +to him who dies becomingly, and on earth, as in heaven, there is pardon +for the parting soul. Are we to reject what we are taught that God +receives? I have need enough of forgiveness to espouse the softer +argument. + +Now King Louis, surnamed the Great, having more matters in his head than +the scheme I thought to baffle, and (to say truth) more ladies in his +heart than Barbara Quinton, was not minded to die for the one or the +other. But had you been there (which Heaven for your sake forbid, I have +passed many a pleasanter night), you would have sworn that death or life +weighed not a straw in the balance with him, and that he had no thought +save of the destiny God had marked for him and the realm that called him +master. So lofty and serene he was, when he perceived my resolution and +saw my pistol at his head. On my faith, the victory was mine, but he +robbed me of my triumph, and he, submitting, seemed to put terms on me +who held him at my mercy. It is all a trick, no doubt; they get it in +childhood, as (I mean no harm by my comparisons) the beggar's child +learns to whine or the thief's to pick. Yet it is pretty. I wish I had +it. + +"In truth," said he with a smile that had not a trace of wryness, "I +have chosen my means ill for this one time, though they say that I +choose well. Well, God rules the world." + +"By deputy, sir," said I. + +"And deputies don't do His will always? Come, Mr Dale, for this hour you +hold the post and fill it well. Wear this for my sake"; and he handed +across to me a dagger with a handle richly wrought and studded with +precious stones. + +I bowed low; yet I kept my finger on the trigger. + +"Man, I give you my word, though not in words," said he, and I, rebuked, +set my weapon back in its place. "Alas, for a sad moment!" he cried. "I +must bid farewell to Mistress Barbara. Yet (this he added, turning to +her) life is long, madame, and has many changes. I pray you may never +need friends, but should you, there is one ready so long as Louis is +King of France. Call on him by the token of his ring and count him your +humble servant." With this he stripped his finger of a fine brilliant, +and, sinking on his knee in the boat, took her hand very delicately, +and, having set the ring on her finger, kissed her hand, sighed lightly +yet gallantly, and rose with his eyes set on the ship. + +"Row me to her," he commanded me, shortly but not uncivilly; and I, who +held his life in my hands, sat down obediently and bent to my oars. In +faith, I wish I had that air, it's worth a fortune to a man! + +Soon we came to the side of the ship. Over it looked the face of +Colbert, amazed that I had stolen his King, and the face of Thomas Lie, +indignant that I had made free with his boat; by them were two or three +of the crew agape with wonder. King Louis paid no respect to their +feelings and stayed their exclamations with a gesture of his hand. He +turned to me, saying in low tones and with a smile, + +"You must make your own terms with my brother, sir. It has been hard +fighting between us, and I am in no mood for generosity." + +I did not know what to answer him, but I stammered: + +"I ask nothing but that your Majesty should remember me as an honest +man." + +"And a brave gentleman," he added gravely, with a slight inclination of +his head. Then he turned to Barbara and took her hand again, bowing low +and saying, "Madame, I had meant you much good in my heart, and my state +forced me to mean you some evil. I pray you remember the one and forget +the other." He kissed her hand again with a fine grace. It was a fair +sounding apology for a thing beyond defence. I admired while I smiled. + +But Barbara did not smile. She looked up in his face, then dropped on +her knees in the boat and caught his hand, kissing it twice and trying +to speak to him. He stood looking down on her; then he said softly, "Yet +I have forgiven your friend," and gently drew his hand away. I stood up, +baring my head. He faced round on me and said abruptly, "This affair is +between you and me, sir." + +"I am obedient to a command I did not need," said I. + +"Your pardon. Cover your head. I do not value outward signs of respect +where the will is wanting. Fare you well." + +At a sign from him Colbert stretched out a hand. Not a question, not a +word, scarcely now a show of wonder came from any, save honest Lie, +whose eyes stood out of his head and whose tongue was still only because +it could not speak. The King leapt lightly on the deck of his ship. + +"You'll be paid for the boat," I heard him say to Lie. "Make all sail +for Calais." + +None spoke to him, none questioned him. He saw no need for explanation +and accorded no enlightenment. I marvelled that fear or respect for any +man could so bind their tongues. The King waved them away; Lie alone +hesitated, but Colbert caught him by the arm and drew him off to the +helm. The course was given, and the ship forged ahead. The King stood in +the stern. Now he raised his hat from his head and bowed low to Mistress +Barbara. I turned to see how she took the salutation; but her face was +downcast, resting on her hands. I stood and lifted my hat; then I sat +down to the oars. I saw King Louis' set courtly smile, and as our ways +parted asunder, his to France, where he ruled, mine to England where I +prayed nothing but a hiding-place, we sent into one another's eyes a +long look as of men who have measured strength, and part each in his own +pride, each in respect for the powers of his enemy. In truth it was +something to have played a winning hand with the Most Christian King. +With regret I watched him go; though I could not serve him in his +affairs of love, I would gladly have fought for him in his wars. + +We were alone now on the sea; dawn was breaking and the sky cleared till +the cliffs were dimly visible behind us. I pulled the boat round, and +set her head for home. Barbara sat in the stern, pale and still, +exhausted by the efforts and emotion of the night. The great peril and +her great salvation left her numb rather than thankful; and in truth, if +she looked into the future, her joy must be dashed with sore +apprehension. M. de Perrencourt was gone, the Duke of Monmouth remained; +till she could reach her father I was her only help, and I dared not +show my face in Dover. But these thoughts were for myself, not for her, +and seeking to cheer her I leant forward and said, + +"Courage, Mistress Barbara." And I added, "At least we shan't be +married, you and I, in Calais." + +She started a little, flushed a little, and answered gravely, + +"We owe Heaven thanks for a great escape, Simon." + +It was true, and the knowledge of its truth had nerved us to the attempt +so marvellously crowned with success. Great was the escape from such a +marriage, made for such purposes as King Louis had planned. Yet some +feeling shot through me, and I gave it voice in saying, + +"Nay, but we might have escaped after the marriage also." + +Barbara made no reply; for it was none to say, "The cliffs grow very +plain." + +"But that wouldn't have served our turn," I added with a laugh. "You +would have come out of the business saddled with a sore encumbrance." + +"Shall you go to Dover?" asked Barbara, seeming to pay no heed to all +that I had been saying. + +"Where God pleases," I answered rather peevishly. "Her head's to the +land, and I'll row straight to land. The land is safer than the sea." + +"No place is safe?" + +"None," I answered. But then, repenting of my surliness, I added, "And +none so perilous that you need fear, Mistress Barbara." + +"I don't fear while you're with me, Simon," said she. "You won't leave +me till we find my father?" + +"Surely not," said I. "Is it your pleasure to seek him?" + +"As speedily as we can," she murmured. "He's in London. Even the King +won't dare to touch me when I'm with him." + +"To London, then!" I said. "Can you make out the coast?" + +"There's a little bay just ahead where the cliff breaks; and I see Dover +Castle away on my left hand." + +"We'll make for the bay," said I, "and then seek means to get to +London." + +Even as I spoke a sudden thought struck me. I laid down my oars and +sought my purse. Barbara was not looking at me, but gazed in a dreamy +fashion towards where the Castle rose on its cliff. I opened the purse; +it held a single guinea; the rest of my store lay with my saddle-bags in +the French King's ship; my head had been too full to think of them. +There is none of life's small matters that so irks a man as to confess +that he has no money for necessary charges, and it is most sore when a +lady looks to him for hers. I, who had praised myself for forgetting how +to blush, went red as a cock's comb and felt fit to cry with +mortification. A guinea would feed us on the road to London if we fared +plainly; but Barbara could not go on her feet. + +Her eyes must have come back to my sullen downcast face, for in a moment +she cried, "What's the matter, Simon?" + +Perhaps she carried money. Well then, I must ask for it. I held out my +guinea in my hand. + +"It's all I have," said I. "King Louis has the rest." + +She gave a little cry of dismay. "I hadn't thought of money," she cried. + +"I must beg of you." + +"Ah, but, Simon, I have none. I gave my purse to the waiting-woman to +carry, so that mine also is in the French King's ship." + +Here was humiliation! Our fine schemes stood blocked for the want of so +vulgar a thing as money; such fate waits often on fine schemes, but +surely never more perversely. Yet, I know not why, I was glad that she +had none. I was a guinea the better of her; the amount was not large, +but it served to keep me still her Providence, and that, I fear, is what +man, in his vanity, loves to be in woman's eyes; he struts and plumes +himself in the pride of it. I had a guinea, and Barbara had nothing. I +had sooner it were so than that she had a hundred. + +But to her came no such subtle consolation. To lack money was a new +horror, untried, undreamt of; the thing had come to her all her days in +such measure as she needed it, its want had never thwarted her desires +or confined her purpose. To lack the price of post-horses seemed to her +as strange as to go fasting for want of bread. + +"What shall we do?" she cried in a dismay greater than all the perils of +the night had summoned to her heart. + +We had about us wealth enough; Louis' dagger was in my belt, his ring on +her finger. Yet of what value were they, since there was nobody to buy +them? To offer such wares in return for a carriage would seem strange +and draw suspicion. I doubted whether even in Dover I should find a Jew +with whom to pledge my dagger, and to Dover in broad day I dared not go. + +I took up my oars and set again to rowing. The shore was but a mile or +two away. The sun shone now and the light was full, the little bay +seemed to smile at me as I turned my head; but all smiles are short for +a man who has but a guinea in his purse. + +"What shall we do?" asked Barbara again. "Is there nobody to whom you +can go, Simon?" + +There seemed nobody. Buckingham I dared not trust, he was in Monmouth's +interest; Darrell had called himself my friend, but he was the servant +of Lord Arlington, and my lord the Secretary was not a man to trust. My +messenger would guide my enemies and my charge be put in danger. + +"Is there nobody, Simon?" she implored. + +There was one, one who would aid me with merry willingness and, had she +means at the moment, with lavish hand. The thought had sprung to my mind +as Barbara spoke. If I could come safely and secretly to a certain house +in a certain alley in the town of Dover, I could have money for the sake +of old acquaintance, and what had once been something more, between her +and me. But would Barbara take largesse from that hand? I am a coward +with women; ignorance is fear's mother and, on my life, I do not know +how they will take this thing or that, with scorn or tears or shame or +what, or again with some surprising turn of softness and (if I may make +bold to say it) a pliability of mind to which few of us men lay claim +and none give honour. But the last mood was not Barbara's, and, as I +looked at her, I dared not tell her where lay my only hope of help in +Dover. I put my wits to work how I could win the aid for her, and keep +the hand a secret. Such deception would sit lightly on my conscience. + +"I am thinking," I replied to her, "whether there is anyone, and how I +might reach him, if there is." + +"Surely there's someone who would serve you and whom you could trust?" +she urged. + +"Would you trust anyone whom I trust?" I asked. + +"In truth, yes." + +"And would you take the service if I would?" + +"Am I so rich that I can choose?" she said piteously. + +"I have your promise to it?" + +"Yes," she answered with no hesitation, nay, with a readiness that made +me ashamed of my stratagem. Yet, as Barbara said, beggars cannot be +choosers even in their stratagems, and, if need were, I must hold her to +her word. + +Now we were at the land and the keel of our boat grated on the shingle. +We disembarked under the shadow of the cliffs at the eastern end of the +bay; all was solitude, save for a little house standing some way back +from the sea, half-way up the cliff, on a level platform cut in the face +of the rock. It seemed a fisherman's cottage; thence might come +breakfast, and for so much our guinea would hold good. There was a +recess in the cliffs, and here I bade Barbara sit and rest herself, +sheltered from view on either side, while I went forward to try my luck +at the cottage. She seemed reluctant to be left, but obeyed me, standing +and watching while I took my way, which I chose cautiously, keeping +myself as much within the shadow as might be. I had sooner not have +ventured this much exposure, but it is ill to face starvation for +safety's sake. + +The cottage lay but a hundred yards off, and soon I approached it. It +was hard on six o'clock now, and I looked to find the inmates up and +stirring. I wondered also whether Monmouth were gone to await Barbara +and myself at the Merry Mariners in Deal; alas, we were too near the +trysting-place! Or had he heard by now that the bird was flown from his +lure and caged by that M. de Perrencourt who had treated him so +cavalierly? I could not tell. Here was the cottage; but I stood still +suddenly, amazed and cautious. For there, in the peaceful morning, in +the sun's kindly light, there lay across the threshold the body of a +man; his eyes, wide-opened, stared at the sky, but seemed to see nothing +of what they gazed at; his brown coat was stained to a dark rusty hue on +the breast, where a gash in the stuff showed the passage of a sword. His +hand clasped a long knife, and his face was known to me. I had seen it +daily at my uprising and lying-down. The body was that of Jonah Wall, in +the flesh my servant, in spirit the slave of Phineas Tate, whose +teaching had brought him to this pass. + +The sight bred in me swift horror and enduring caution. The two Dukes +had been despatched, sorely against their will, in chase of this man. +Was it to their hands that he had yielded up his life and by their doing +that he lay like carrion? It might well be that he had sought refuge in +this cottage, and having found there death, not comfort, had been flung +forth a corpse. I pitied him; although he had been party to a plot which +had well nigh caused my own death and taken no account of my honour, yet +I was sorry for him. He had been about me; I grieved for him as for the +cat on my hearth. Well, now in death he warned me; it was some +recompense; I lifted my hat as I stole by him and slunk round to the +side of the house. There was a window there, or rather a window-frame, +for glass there was none; it stood some six feet from the ground and I +crouched beneath it, for I now heard voices in the cottage. + +"I wish the rascal hadn't fought," said one voice. "But he flew at me +like a tiger, and I had much ado to stop him. I was compelled to run him +through." + +"Yet he might have served me alive," said another. + +"Your Grace is right. For although we hate these foul schemes, the men +had the root of the matter in them." + +"They were no Papists, at least," said the second voice. + +"But the King will be pleased." + +"Oh, a curse on the King, although he's what he is to me! Haven't you +heard? When I returned to the Castle from my search on the other side of +the town, seeking you or Buckingham--by the way, where is he?" + +"Back in his bed, I warrant, sir." + +"The lazy dog! Well then, they told me she was gone with Louis. I rode +on to tell you, for, said I, the King may hunt his conspirators himself +now. But who went with them?" + +"Your Grace will wonder if I say Simon Dale was the man?" + +"The scoundrel! It was he! He has deluded us most handsomely. He was in +Louis' pay, and Louis has a use for him! I'll slit the knave's throat if +I get at him." + +"I pray your Grace's leave to be the first man at him." + +"In truth I'm much obliged to you, my Lord Carford," said I to myself +under the window. + +"There's no use in going to Deal," cried Monmouth. "Oh, I wish I had the +fellow here! She's gone, Carford; God's curse on it, she's gone! The +prettiest wench at Court! Louis has captured her. 'Fore heaven, if only +I were a King!" + +"Heaven has its own times, sir," said Carford insidiously. But the Duke, +suffering from disappointed desire, was not to be led to affairs of +State. + +"She's gone," he exclaimed again. "By God, sooner than lose her, I'd +have married her." + +This speech made me start. She was near him; what if she had been as +near him as I, and had heard those words? A pang shot through me, and, +of its own accord, my hand moved to my sword-hilt. + +"She is beneath your Grace's station. The spouse of your Grace may one +day be----" Carford interrupted himself with a laugh, and added, "What +God wills." + +"So may Anne Hyde," exclaimed the Duke. "But I forget. You yourself had +marked her." + +"I am your Grace's humble servant always," answered Carford smoothly. + +Monmouth laughed. Carford had his pay, no doubt, and I trust it was +large; for he heard quietly a laugh that called him what King Louis had +graciously proposed to make of me. I am glad when men who live by dirty +ways are made to eat dirt. + +"And my father," said the Duke, "is happy. She is gone, Querouaille +stays; why, he's so enamoured that he has charged Nell to return to +London to-day, or at the latest by to-morrow, lest the French lady's +virtue should be offended." + +At this both laughed, Monmouth at his father, Carford at his King. + +"What's that?" cried the Duke an instant later. + +Now what disturbed him was no other than a most imprudent exclamation +wrung from me by what I heard; it must have reached them faintly, yet it +was enough. I heard their swords rattle and their spurs jingle as they +sprang to their feet. I slipped hastily behind the cottage. But by good +luck at this instant came other steps. As the Duke and Carford ran to +the door, the owner of the cottage (as I judged him to be) walked up, +and Carford cried: + +"Ah, the fisherman! Come, sir, we'll make him show us the nearest way. +Have you fed the horses, fellow?" + +"They have been fed, my lord, and are ready," was the answer. + +I did not hear more speech, but only (to my relief) the tramp of feet as +the three went off together. I stole cautiously out and watched them +heading for the top of the cliff. Jonah Wall lay still where he was, and +when the retreating party were out of sight I did not hesitate to search +his body for money. I had supplied his purse, but now his purse was +emptier than mine. Then I stepped into the cottage, seeking not money +but food. Fortune was kinder here and rewarded me with a pasty, +half-eaten, and a jug of ale. By the side of these lay, left by the Duke +in his wonted profusion, a guinea. The Devil has whimsical ways; I +protest that the temptation I suffered here was among the strongest of +my life! I could repay the fellow some day; two guineas would be by far +more than twice as much as one. Yet I left the pleasant golden thing +there, carrying off only the pasty and the ale; as for the jug--a man +must not stand on nice scruples, and Monmouth's guinea would more than +pay for all. + +I made my way quickly back to Barbara with the poor spoils of my +expedition. I rounded the bluff of cliff that protected her +hiding-place. Again I stood amazed, asking if fortune had more tricks in +her bag for me. The recess was empty. But a moment later I was +reassured; a voice called to me, and I saw her some thirty yards away, +down on the sea-beach. I set down pasty and jug and turned to watch. +Then I perceived what went on; white feet were visible in the shallow +water, twinkling in and out as the tide rolled up and back. + +"I had best employ myself in making breakfast ready," said I, turning my +back. But she called out to me again, saying how delightful was the cool +water. So I looked, and saw her gay and merry. Her hat was in her hand +now, and her hair blew free in the breeze. She had given herself up to +the joy of the moment. I rejoiced in a feeling which I could not share; +the rebound from the strain of the night left me sad and apprehensive. I +sat down and rested my head on my hands, waiting till she came back. +When she came, she would not take the food I offered her, but stood a +moment, looking at me with puzzled eyes, before she seated herself near. + +"You're sad," she said, almost as though in accusation. + +"Could I be otherwise, Mistress Barbara?" I asked. "We're in some +danger, and, what's worse, we've hardly a penny." + +"But we've escaped the greatest peril," she reminded me. + +"True, for the moment." + +"We--you won't be married to-night," she laughed, with rising colour, +and turning away as though a tuft of rank grass by her had caught her +attention and for some hidden reason much deserved it. + +"By God's help we've come out of that snare," said I gravely. + +She said nothing for a moment or two; then she turned to me again, +asking, + +"If your friend furnishes money, can we reach London in two days?" + +"I'm sorry," I answered, "but the journey will need nearer three, unless +we travel at the King's pace or the Duke of Monmouth's." + +"You needn't come all the way with me. Set me safe on the road, and go +where your business calls you." + +"For what crime is this punishment?" I asked with a smile. + +"No, I'm serious. I'm not seeking a compliment from you. I see that +you're sad. You have been very kind to me, Simon. You risked life and +liberty to save me." + +"Well, who could do less? Besides, I had given my promise to my lord +your father." + +She made no reply, and I, desiring to warn her against every danger, +related what had passed at the cottage, omitting only Monmouth's +loudmouthed threats against myself. At last, moved by some impulse of +curiosity rather than anything higher, I repeated how the Duke had said +that, sooner than lose her altogether, he would have married her, and +how my Lord Carford had been still his humble servant in this project as +in any other. She flushed again as she heard me, and plucked her tuft of +grass. + +"Indeed," I ended, "I believe his Grace spoke no more than the truth; +I've never seen a man more in love." + +"And you know well what it is to be in love, don't you?" + +"Very well," I answered calmly, although I thought that the taunt might +have been spared. "Therefore it may well be that some day I shall kiss +the hand of her Grace the Duchess." + +"You think I desire it?" she asked. + +"I think most ladies would." + +"I don't desire it." She sprang up and stamped her foot on the ground, +crying again, "Simon, I do not desire it. I wouldn't be his wife. You +smile! You don't believe me?" + +"No offer is refused until it's made," said I, and, with a bow that +asked permission, I took a draught of the ale. + +She looked at me in great anger, her cheek suffused with underlying red +and her dark eyes sparkling. + +"I wish you hadn't saved me," she said in a fury. + +"That we had gone forward to Calais?" I asked maliciously. + +"Sir, you're insolent." She flung the reproof at me like a stone from a +catapult. But then she repeated, "I wouldn't be his wife." + +"Well, then, you wouldn't," said I, setting down the jug and rising. +"How shall we pass the day? For we mustn't go to Dover till nightfall." + +"I must be all day here with you?" she cried in visible consternation. + +"You must be all day here, but you needn't be with me. I'll go down to +the beach; I shall be within hail if need arises, and you can rest here +alone." + +"Thank you, Simon," she answered with a most sudden and wonderful +meekness. + +Without more, I took my way to the seashore and lay down on the +sun-warmed shingle. Being very weary and without sleep now for +six-and-thirty hours, I soon closed my eyes, keeping the pistol ready by +my side. I slept peacefully and without a dream; the sun was high in +heaven when, with a yawn and a stretching of my limbs, I awoke. I heard, +as I opened my eyes, a little rustling as of somebody moving; my hand +flew to the butt of my pistol. But when I turned round I saw Barbara +only. She was sitting a little way behind me, looking out over the sea. +Feeling my gaze she looked round. + +"I grew afraid, left all alone," she said in a timid voice. + +"Alas, I snored when I should have been on guard!" I exclaimed. + +"You didn't snore," she cried. "I--I mean not in the last few moments. I +had only just come near you. I'm afraid I spoke unkindly to you." + +"I hadn't given a thought to it," I hastened to assure her. + +"You were indifferent to what I said?" she cried. + +I rose to my feet and made her a bow of mock ceremony. My rest had put +me in heart again, and I was in a mood to be merry. + +"Nay, madame," said I, "you know that I am your devoted servant, and +that all I have in the world is held at your disposal." + +She looked sideways at me, then at the sea again. + +"By heaven, it's true!" I cried. "All I have is yours. See!" I took out +my precious guinea, and bending on my knee with uncovered head presented +it to Mistress Barbara. + +She turned her eyes down to it and sat regarding it for a moment. + +"It's all I have, but it's yours," said I most humbly. + +"Mine?" + +"Most heartily." + +She lifted it from my palm with finger and thumb very daintily, and, +before I knew what she was doing, or could have moved to hinder her if I +had the mind, she raised her arm over her head and with all her strength +flung the guinea into the sparkling waves. + +"Heaven help us!" I cried. + +"It was mine. That's what I chose to do with it," said Barbara. + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII + +SOME MIGHTY SILLY BUSINESS + + +"In truth, madame," said I, "it's the wont of your sex. As soon as a +woman knows a thing to be hers entirely, she'll fling it away." With +this scrap of love's lore and youth's philosophy I turned my back on my +companion, and having walked to where the battered pasty lay beside the +empty jug sat down in high dudgeon. Barbara's eyes were set on the spot +where the guinea had been swallowed by the waves, and she took no heed +of my remark nor of my going. + +Say that my pleasantry was misplaced, say that she was weary and +strained beyond her power, say what you will in excuse, I allow it all. +Yet it was not reason to fling my last guinea into the sea. A flash of +petulance is well enough and may become beauty as summer lightning decks +the sky, but fury is for termagants, and nought but fury could fling my +last guinea to the waves. The offence, if offence there were, was too +small for so monstrous an outburst. Well, if she would quarrel, I was +ready; I had no patience with such tricks; they weary a man of sense; +women serve their turn ill by using them. Also I had done her some small +service. I would die sooner than call it to her mind, but it would have +been a grace in her to remember it. + +The afternoon came, grew to its height, and waned as I lay, back to sea +and face to cliff, thinking now of all that had passed, now of what was +before me, sparing a moment's fitful sorrow for the poor wretch who lay +dead there by the cottage door, but returning always in resentful mood +to my lost guinea and Barbara's sore lack of courtesy. If she needed me, +I was ready; but heaven forbid that I should face fresh rebuffs by +seeking her! I would do my duty to her and redeem my pledge. More could +not now be looked for, nay, by no possibility could be welcome; to keep +away from her was to please her best. It was well, for in that her mind +jumped with mine. In two hours now we could set out for Dover. + +"Simon, I'm hungry." + +The voice came from behind my shoulder, a yard or two away, a voice very +meek and piteous, eloquent of an exhaustion and a weakness so great +that, had they been real, she must have fallen by me, not stood upright +on her feet. Against such stratagems I would be iron. I paid no heed, +but lay like a log. + +"Simon, I'm very thirsty too." + +Slowly I gathered myself up and, standing, bowed. + +"There's a fragment of the pasty," said I; "but the jug is empty." + +I did not look in her face and I knew she did not look in mine. + +"I can't eat without drinking," she murmured. + +"I have nothing with which to buy liquor, and there's nowhere to buy +it." + +"But water, Simon? Ah, but I mustn't trouble you." + +"I'll go to the cottage and seek some." + +"But that's dangerous." + +"You shall come to no hurt." + +"But you?" + +"Indeed I need a draught for myself. I should have gone after one in any +case." + +There was a pause, then Barbara said: + +"I don't want it. My thirst has passed away." + +"Will you take the pasty?" + +"No, my hunger is gone too." + +I bowed again. We stood in silence for a moment. + +"I'll walk a little," said Barbara. + +"At your pleasure," said I. "But pray don't go far, there may be +danger." + +She turned away and retraced her steps to the beach. The instant she was +gone, I sprang up, seized the jug, and ran at the best of my speed to +the cottage. Jonah Wall lay still across the entrance, no living +creature was in sight; I darted in and looked round for water; a pitcher +stood on the table, and I filled the jug hastily. Then, with a smile of +sour triumph, I hurried back the way I had come. She should have no +cause to complain of me. I had been wronged, and was minded to hug my +grievance and keep the merit of the difference all on my side. That +motive too commonly underlies a seeming patience of wrong. I would not +for the world enrich her with a just quarrel, therefore I brought her +water, ay, although she feigned not to desire it. There it was for her, +let her take it if she would, or leave it if she would; and I set the +jug down by the pasty. She should not say that I had refused to fetch +her what she asked, although she had, for her own good reasons, flung my +guinea into the sea. She would come soon, then would be my hour. Yet I +would spare her; a gentleman should show no exultation; silence would +serve to point the moral. + +But where was she? To say truth, I was impatient for the play to begin +and anticipation grew flat with waiting. I looked down to the shore but +could not see her. I rose and walked forward till the beach lay open +before me. Where was Barbara? + +A sudden fear ran through me. Had any madness seized the girl, some +uncontrolled whim made her fly from me? She could not be so foolish. But +where was she? On the moment of the question a cry of surprise rang from +my lips. There, ahead of me, not on the shore, but on the sea, was +Barbara. The boat was twelve or fifteen yards from the beach, Barbara's +face was towards me, and she was rowing out to sea. Forgetting pasty and +jug, I bounded down. What new folly was this? To show herself in the +boat was to court capture. And why did she row out to sea? In an instant +I was on the margin of the water. I called out to her, she took no heed; +the boat was heavy, but putting her strength into the strokes she drove +it along. Again I called, and called unheeded. Was this my triumph? I +saw a smile on her face. Not she, but I, afforded the sport then. I +would not stand there, mocked for a fool by her eyes and her smile. + +"Come back," I cried. + +The boat moved on. I was in the water to my knees. "Come back," I cried. +I heard a laugh from the boat, a high nervous laugh; but the boat moved +on. With an oath I cast my sword from me, throwing it behind me on the +beach, and plunged into the water. Soon I was up to the neck, and I took +to swimming. Straight out to sea went the boat, not fast, but +relentlessly. In grim anger I swam with all my strength. I could not +gain on her. She had ceased now even to look where my head bobbed among +the waves; her face was lifted towards the sky. By heaven, did she in +very truth mean to leave me? I called once more. Now she answered. + +"Go back," she said. "I'm going alone." + +"By heaven, you aren't," I muttered with a gasp, and set myself to a +faster stroke. Bad to deal with are women! Must she fly from me and risk +all because I had not smiled and grinned and run for what she needed, +like a well-trained monkey? Well, I would catch her and bring her back. + +But catch her I could not. A poor oarsman may beat a fair swimmer, and +she had the start of me. Steadily out to sea she rowed, and I toiled +behind. If her mood lasted--and hurt pride lasts long in disdainful +ladies who are more wont to deal strokes than to bear them--my choice +was plain. I must drown there like a rat, or turn back a beaten cur. +Alas for my triumph! If to have thought on it were sin, I was now +chastened. But Barbara rowed on. In very truth she meant to leave me, +punishing herself if by that she might sting me. What man would have +shown that folly--or that flower of pride? + +Yet was I beaten? I do not love to be beaten, above all when the game +has seemed in my hands. I had a card to play, and, between my pants, +smiled grimly as it came into my mind. I glanced over my shoulder; I was +hard on half-a-mile from shore. Women are compassionate; quick on +pride's heels there comes remorse. I looked at the boat; the interval +that parted me from it had not narrowed by an inch, and its head was +straight for the coast of France. I raised my voice, crying: + +"Stop, stop!" + +No answer came. The boat moved on. The slim figure bent and rose again, +the blades moved through the water. Well then, the card should be +played, the trick of a wily gamester, but my only resource. + +"Help, help!" I cried; and letting my legs fall and raising my hands +over my head, I inhaled a full breath and sank like a stone, far out of +sight beneath the water. Here I abode as long as I could; then, after +swimming some yards under the surface, I rose and put my head out again, +gasping hard and clearing my matted hair from before my eyes. I could +scarcely stifle a cry. The boat's head was turned now, and Barbara was +rowing with furious speed towards where I had sunk, her head turned over +her shoulder and her eyes fixed on the spot. She passed by where I was, +but did not see me. She reached the spot and dropped her oars. + +"Help, help!" I cried a second time, and stayed long enough to let her +see my head before I dived below. But my stay was shorter now. Up again, +I looked for her. She was all but over me as she went by; she panted, +she sobbed, and the oars only just touched water. I swam five strokes +and caught at the gunwale of the boat. A loud cry broke from her. The +oars fell from her hand. The boat was broad and steady. I flung my leg +over and climbed in, panting hard. In truth I was out of breath. Barbara +cried, "You're safe!" and hid her face in her hands. + +We were mad both of us, beyond a doubt, she sobbing there on the thwart, +I panting and dripping in the bows. Yet for a touch of such sweet +madness now, when all young nature was strung to a delicious contest, +and the blood spun through the veins full of life! Our boat lay +motionless on the sea, and the setting sun caught the undergrowth of +red-brown hair that shot through Barbara's dark locks. My own state was, +I must confess, less fair to look on. + +I controlled my voice to a cold steadiness, as I wrung the water from my +clothes. + +"This is a mighty silly business, Mistress Barbara," said I. + +I had angled for a new outburst of fury, my catch was not what I looked +for. Her hands were stretched out towards me, and her face, pale and +tearful, pleaded with me. + +"Simon, Simon, you were drowning! Through my--my folly! Oh, will you +ever forgive me? If--if you had come to hurt, I wouldn't have lived." + +"Yet you were running away from me." + +"I didn't dream that you'd follow. Indeed I didn't think that you'd risk +death." Then her eyes seemed to fall on my dripping clothes. In an +instant she snatched up the cloak that lay by her, and held it towards +me, crying "Wrap yourself in it." + +"Nay, keep your cloak," said I, "I shall be warm enough with rowing. I +pray you, madame, tell me the meaning of this freak of yours." + +"Nothing, nothing. I--Oh, forgive me, Simon. Ah, how I shuddered when I +looked round on the water and couldn't see you! I vowed to God that if +you were saved----." She stopped abruptly. + +"My death would have been on your conscience?" I asked. + +"Till my own death," she said. + +"Then indeed," said I, "I'm very glad that I wasn't drowned." + +"It's enough that you were in peril of it," she murmured woefully. + +"I pray heaven," said I cheerfully, "that I may never be in greater. +Come, Mistress Barbara, sport for sport, trick for trick, feint for +feint. I think your intention of leaving me was pretty much as real as +this peril of drowning from which I have escaped." + +Her hands, which still implored me, fell to her side. An expression of +wonder spread over her face. + +"In truth, I meant to leave you," she said. + +"And why, madame?" + +"Because I burdened you." + +"But you had consented to accept my aid." + +"While you seemed to give it willingly. But I had angered you in the +matter of that----" + +"Ay, of that guinea. Well, it was my last." + +"Yes, of the guinea. Although I was foolish, yet I could not endure +your----" Again she hesitated. + +"Pray let me hear?" said I. + +"I would not stay where my company was suffered rather than prized," +said she. + +"So you were for trying fortune alone?" + +"Better that than with an unwilling defender," said she. + +"Behold your injustice!" I cried. "For, rather than lose you, I have +faced all, even drowning!" And I laughed. + +Her eyes were fixed on my face, but she did not speak. I believe she +feared to ask me the question that was in her dark eyes. But at last she +murmured: + +"Why do you speak of tricks? Simon, why do you laugh?" + +"Why, since by a trick you left me--indeed I cannot believe it was no +trick." + +"I swear it was no trick!" + +"I warrant it was. And thus by a trick I have contrived to thwart it." + +"By a trick?" + +"Most assuredly. Am I a man to drown with half a mile's swimming in +smooth water?" Again I laughed. + +She leant forward and spoke in an agitated voice, yet imperiously. + +"Tell me the truth. Were you indeed in danger and distress?" + +"Not a whit," said I composedly. "But you wouldn't wait for me." + +Slowly came her next question. + +"It was a trick, then?" + +"And crowned with great success," said I. + +"All a trick?" + +"Throughout," I answered. + +Her face grew set and rigid, and, if it might be, yet paler than before. +I waited for her to speak, but she said nothing. She drew away the cloak +that she had offered me, and, wrapping it about her shoulders, withdrew +to the stern of the boat. I took her place, and laid hold of the oars. + +"What's your pleasure now, madame?" I asked. + +"What you will," she said briefly. + +I looked at her; she met my gaze with a steady regard. I had expected +scorn, but found grief and hurt. Accused by the sight, I wrapped myself +in a cold flippancy. + +"There is small choice," said I. "The beach is there, and that we have +found not pleasant. Calais is yonder, where certainly we must not go. To +Dover then? Evening falls, and if we go gently it will be dark before we +reach the town." + +"Where you will. I care not," said Barbara, and she folded her cloak so +about her face that I could see little more of her than her eyes and her +brows. Here at length was my triumph, as sweet as such joys are; malice +is their fount and they smack of its bitterness. Had I followed my +heart, I would have prayed her pardon. A sore spirit I had impelled her, +my revenge lacked justice. Yet I would not abase myself, being now in my +turn sore and therefore obstinate. With slow strokes I propelled the +boat towards Dover town. + +For half an hour I rowed; dusk fell, and I saw the lights of Dover. A +gentler mood came on me. I rested an instant, and, leaning forward, said +to Barbara: + +"Yet I must thank you. Had I been in peril, you would have saved me." + +No answer came. + +"I perceived that you were moved by my fancied danger," I persisted. + +Then she spoke clearly, calmly, and coldly. + +"I wouldn't have a dog drown under my eyes," said she. "The spectacle is +painful." + +I performed such a bow as I could, sitting there, and took up my oars +again. I had made my advance; if such were the welcome, no more should +come from me. I rowed slowly on, then lay on my oars awhile, waiting for +darkness to fall. The night came, misty again and chill. I grew cold as +I waited (my clothes were but half-dry), and would gladly have thumped +myself with my hands. But I should have seemed to ask pity of the statue +that sat there, enveloped in the cloak, with closed eyes and pale +unmoved face. Suddenly she spoke. + +"Are you cold, sir?" + +"Cold? I am somewhat over-heated with rowing, madame," I answered. "But, +I pray you, wrap your cloak closer round you." + +"I am very well, I thank you, sir." + +Yet cold I was, and bitterly. Moreover I was hungry and somewhat faint. +Was Barbara hungry? I dared not ask her lest she should find a fresh +mockery in the question. + +When I ventured to beach the boat a little way out of Dover, it was +quite dark, being hard on ten o'clock. I offered Barbara my hand to +alight, but she passed it by unnoticed. Leaving the boat to its fate, we +walked towards the town. + +"Where are you taking me?" asked Barbara. + +"To the one person who can serve us," I answered. "Veil your face, and +it would be well that we shouldn't speak loud." + +"I have no desire to speak at all," said Barbara. + +I would not tell her whither she went. Had we been friends, to bring her +there would have taxed my persuasion to the full; as our affairs stood, +I knew she would lie the night in the street before she would go. But if +I got her to the house, I could keep her. But would she reach the house? +She walked very wearily, faltering in her step and stumbling over every +loose stone. I put out my arm to save her once, but she drew away from +it, as though I had meant to strike her. + +At last we came to the narrow alley; making a sign to Barbara, I turned +down it. The house was in front of me; all was quiet, we had escaped +detection. Why, who should seek for us? We were at Calais with King +Louis, at Calais where we were to be married! + +Looking at the house, I found the upper windows dark; there had been the +quarters of Phineas Tate, and the King had found him others. But below +there was a light. + +"Will it please you to wait an instant, while I go forward and rouse my +friend? I shall see then whether all is safe." + +"I will wait here," answered Barbara, and she leant against the wall of +the alley which fronted the house. In much trepidation I went on and +knocked with my knuckles on the door. There was no other course; yet I +did not know how either of them would take my action--the lady within or +the lady without, she whom I asked for succour or she in whose cause I +sought it. + +My entry was easy; a man-servant and a maid were just within, and the +house seemed astir. My request for their mistress caused no surprise; +the girl opened the door of the room. I knew the room and gave my name. +A cry of pleasure greeted it, and a moment later Nell herself stood +before me. + +"From the Castle or Calais, from Deal or the devil?" she cried. In truth +she had a knack of telling you all she knew in a sentence. + +"Why, from half-way between Deal and the devil," said I. "For I have +left Monmouth on one side and M. de Perrencourt on the other, and am +come safe through." + +"A witty Simon! But why in Dover again?" + +"For want of a friend, mistress. Am I come to one?" + +"With all my heart, Simon. What would you?" + +"Means to go to London." + +"Now Heaven is kind! I go there myself in a few hours. You stare. In +truth, it's worth a stare. But the King commands. How did you get rid of +Louis?" + +I told her briefly. She seemed barely to listen, but looked at me with +evident curiosity, and, I think, with some pleasure. + +"A brave thing!" she cried. "Come, I'll carry you to London. Nobody +shall touch you while you're hid under the hem of my petticoat. It will +be like old times, Simon." + +"I have no money," said I. + +"But I have plenty. For the less the King comes, the more he sends. He's +a gentleman in his apologies." Her sigh breathed more contentment than +repining. + +"So you'll take me with you?" + +"To the world's end, Simon, and if you don't ask that, at least to +London." + +"But I'm not alone," said I. + +She looked at me for an instant. Then she began to laugh. + +"Whom have you with you?" she asked. + +"The lady," said I. + +She laughed still, but it seemed to me not very heartily. + +"I'm glad," she said, "that one man in England thinks me a good +Christian. By heaven, you do, Simon, or you'd never ask me to aid your +love." + +"There's no love in the matter," I cried. "We're at daggers drawn." + +"Then certainly there's love in it," said Mistress Nell, nodding her +pretty head in a mighty sagacious manner. "Does she know to whom you've +brought her?" + +"Not yet," I answered with a somewhat uneasy smile. + +"How will she take it?" + +"She has no other help," said I. + +"Oh, Simon, what a smooth tongue is yours!" She paused, seeming, to fall +into a reverie. Then she looked at me wickedly. + +"You and your lady are ready to face the perils of the road?" + +"Her peril is greater here, and mine as great." + +"The King's pursuit, Monmouth's rage, soldiers, officers, footpads?" + +"A fig for them all!" + +"Another peril?" + +"For her or for me?" + +"Why, for both, good Simon. Don't you understand! See then!" She came +near to me, smiling most saucily, and pursing her lips together as +though she meant to kiss me. + +"If I were vowed to the lady, I should fear the test," said I, "but I am +free." + +"Where is she?" asked Nell, letting my answer pass with a pout. + +"By your very door." + +"Let's have her in," cried Nell, and straightway she ran into the alley. + +I followed, and came up with her just as she reached Barbara. Barbara +leant no more against the wall, but lay huddled at the foot of it. +Weariness and hunger had overcome her; she was in a faint, her lips +colourless and her eyes closed. Nell dropped beside her, murmuring low, +soft consolations. I stood by in awkward helplessness. These matters +were beyond my learning. + +"Lift her and carry her in," Nell commanded, and, stooping, I lifted her +in my arms. The maid and the man stared. Nell shut the door sharply on +them. + +"What have you done to her?" she cried to me in angry accusation. +"You've let her go without food." + +"We had none. She flung my last money into the sea," I pleaded. + +"And why? Oh, hold your peace and let us be!" + +To question and refuse an answer is woman's way; should it be forbidden +to Nell, who was woman from crown to sole? I shrugged my shoulders and +drew off to the far end of the room. For some moments I heard nothing +and remained very uneasy, not knowing whether it were allowed me to look +or not, nor what passed. Then I heard Barbara's voice. + +"I thank you, I thank you much. But where am I, and who are you? Forgive +me, but who are you?" + +"You're in Dover, and safe enough, madame," answered Nell. "What does it +matter who I am? Will you drink a little of this to please me?" + +"No, but who are you? I seem to know your face." + +"Like enough. Many have seen it." + +"But tell me who you are." + +"Since you will know, Simon Dale must stand sponsor for me. Here, +Simon!" + +I rose in obedience to the summons. A thing that a man does not feel of +his own accord, a girl's eyes will often make him feel. I took my stand +by Nell boldly enough; but Barbara's eyes were on mine, and I was full +of fear. + +"Tell her who I am, Simon," said Nell. + +I looked at Nell. As I live, the fear that was in my heart was in her +eyes. Yet she had faced the world and laughed to scorn all England's +frowns. She understood my thought, and coloured red. Since when had +Cydaria learnt to blush? Even at Hatchstead my blush had been the target +for her mockery. "Tell her," she repeated angrily. + +But Barbara knew. Turning to her, I had seen the knowledge take shape in +her eyes and grow to revulsion and dismay. I could not tell what she +would say; but now my fear was in no way for myself. She seemed to watch +Nell for awhile in a strange mingling of horror and attraction. Then she +rose, and, still without a word, took her way on trembling feet towards +the door. To me she gave no glance and seemed to pay no heed. We two +looked for an instant, then Nell darted forward. + +"You mustn't go," she cried. "Where would you go? You've no other +friend." + +Barbara paused, took one step more, paused again. + +"I shan't harm you," said Nell. Then she laughed. "You needn't touch me, +if you will have it so. But I can help you. And I can help Simon; he's +not safe in Dover." She had grown grave, but she ended with another +laugh, "You needn't touch me. My maid is a good girl--yes, it's +true--and she shall tend you." + +"For pity's sake, Mistress Barbara----" I began. + +"Hush," said Nell, waving me back with a motion of her hand. Barbara now +stood still in the middle of the room. She turned her eyes on me, and +her whisper sounded clear through all the room. + +"Is it----?" she asked. + +"It is Mistress Eleanor Gwyn," said I, bowing my head. + +Nell laughed a short strange laugh; I saw her breast rise and fall, and +a bright red patch marked either cheek. + +"Yes, I'm Nelly," said she, and laughed again. + +Barbara's eyes met hers. + +"You were at Hatchstead?" + +"Yes," said Nell, and now she smiled defiantly; but in a moment she +sprang forward, for Barbara had reeled, and seemed like to faint again +and fall. A proud motion of the hand forbade Nell's approach, but +weakness baffled pride, and now perforce Barbara caught at her hand. + +"I--I can go in a moment," stammered Barbara. "But----." + +Nell held one hand. Very slowly, very timidly, with fear and shame plain +on her face, she drew nearer, and put out her other hand to Barbara. +Barbara did not resist her, but let her come nearer; Nell's glance +warned me not to move, and I stood where I was, watching them. Now the +clasp of the hand was changed for a touch on the shoulder, now the +comforting arm sank to the waist and stole round it, full as timidly as +ever gallant's round a denying mistress; still I watched, and I met +Nell's bright eyes, which looked across at me wet and sparkling. The +dark hair almost mingled with the ruddy brown as Barbara's head fell on +Nell's shoulder. I heard a little sob, and Barbara moaned: + +"Oh, I'm tired, and very hungry." + +"Rest here, and you shall have food, my pretty," said Nell Gwyn. "Simon, +go and bid them give you some." + +I went, glad to go. And as I went I heard, "There, pretty, don't cry." + +Well, women love to weep. A plague on them, though, they need not make +us also fools. + + + + +CHAPTER XIX + +A NIGHT ON THE ROAD + + +In a man of green age and inexperience a hasty judgment may gain pardon +and none need wonder that his hopes carry him on straightway to +conclusions born of desire rather than of reason. The meeting I feared +had passed off so softly that I forgot how strange and delicate it was, +and what were the barriers which a gust of sympathy had for the moment +levelled. It did not enter my mind that they must raise their heads +again, and that friendship, or even companionship, must be impossible +between the two whom I, desperately seeking some refuge, had thrown +together. Yet an endeavour was made, and that on both sides; obligation +blunted the edge of Mistress Barbara's scorn, freedom's respect for +virtue's chain schooled Nell to an unwonted staidness of demeanour. The +fires of war but smouldered, the faintest puff of smoke showing only +here and there. I was on the alert to avoid an outbreak; for awhile no +outbreak came and my hopes grew to confidence. But then--I can write the +thing no other way--that ancient devil of hers made re-entry into the +heart of Mistress Gwyn. I was a man, and a man who had loved her; it was +then twice intolerable that I should disclaim her dominion, that I +should be free, nay, that I should serve another with a sedulous care +which might well seem devotion; for the offence touching the guinea was +forgotten, my mock drowning well-nigh forgiven, and although Barbara had +few words for me, they were such that gratitude and friendship shone in +them through the veil of embarrassment. Mistress Nell's shrewd eyes were +on us, and she watched while she aided. It was in truth her interest, as +she conceived, to carry Barbara safe out of Dover; but there was +kindness also in her ample succour; although (ever slave to the sparkle +of a gem) she seized with eager gratitude on Louis' jewelled dagger when +I offered it as my share of our journey's charges, she gave full return; +Barbara was seated in her coach, a good horse was provided for me, her +servant found me a sober suit of clothes and a sword. Thus our strange +party stole from Dover before the town was awake, Nell obeying the +King's command which sent her back to London, and delighting that she +could punish him for it by going in our company. I rode behind the +coach, bearing myself like a serving-man until we reached open country, +when I quickened pace and stationed myself by the window. Up to this +time matters had gone well; if they spoke, it was of service given and +kindness shown. But as the day wore on and we came near Canterbury the +devil began to busy himself. Perhaps I showed some discouragement at the +growing coldness of Barbara's manner, and my anxiety to warm her to +greater cordiality acted as a spur on our companion. First Nell laughed +that my sallies gained small attention and my compliments no return, +that Barbara would not talk of our adventures of the day before, but +harped always on coming speedily where her father was and so discharging +me from my forced service. A merry look declared that if Mistress +Quinton would not play the game another would; a fusillade of glances +opened, Barbara seeing and feigning not to see, I embarrassed, yet +chagrined into some return; there followed words, half-whispered, +half-aloud, not sparing in reminiscence of other days and mischievously +pointed with tender sentiment. The challenge to my manhood was too +tempting, the joy of encounter too sweet. Barbara grew utterly silent, +sitting with eyes downcast and lips set in a disapproval that needed no +speech for its expression. Bolder and bolder came Nell's advances; when +I sought to drop behind she called me up; if I rode ahead she swore she +would bid the driver gallop his horses till she came to me again. "I +can't be without you, Simon. Ah, 'tis so long since we were together," +she whispered, and turned naughty eyes on Barbara. + +Yet we might have come through without declared conflict, had not a +thing befallen us at Canterbury that brought Nell into fresh temptation, +and thereby broke the strained cords of amity. The doings of the King +at Dover had set the country in some stir; there was no love of the +French, and less of the Pope; men were asking, and pretty loudly, why +Madame came; she had been seen in Canterbury, the Duke of York had given +a great entertainment there for her. They did not know what I knew, but +they were uneasy concerning the King's religion and their own. Yet Nell +must needs put her head well out of window as we drove in. I know not +whether the sequel were what she desired, it was at least what she +seemed not to fear; a fellow caught sight of her and raised a cheer. The +news spread quick among the idle folk in the street, and the busy, +hearing it, came out of their houses. A few looked askance at our +protector, but the larger part, setting their Protestantism above their +scruples, greeted her gladly, and made a procession for her, cheering +and encouraging her with cries which had more friendliness than delicacy +in them. Now indeed I dropped behind and rode beside the mounted +servant. The fellow was all agrin, triumphing in his mistress's +popularity. Even so she herself exulted in it, and threw all around nods +and smiles, ay, and, alas, repartees conceived much in the same spirit +as the jests that called them forth. I could have cried on the earth to +swallow me, not for my own sake (in itself the scene was entertaining +enough, however little it might tend to edification), but on account of +Mistress Barbara. Fairly I was afraid to ride forward and see her face, +and dreaded to remember that I had brought her to this situation. But +Nell laughed and jested, flinging back at me now and again a look that +mocked my glum face and declared her keen pleasure in my perplexity and +her scorn of Barbara's shame. Where now were the tenderness and sympathy +which had made their meeting beautiful? The truce was ended and war +raged relentless. + +We came to our inn; I leapt from my horse and forestalled the bustling +host in opening the coach door. The loons of townsmen and their +gossiping wives lined the approach on either side; Nell sprang out, +merry, radiant, unashamed; she laughed in my face as she ran past me +amid the plaudits; slowly Barbara followed; with a low bow I offered my +arm. Alas, there rose a murmur of questions concerning her; who was the +lady that rode with Nell Gwyn, who was he that, although plainly +attired, bore himself so proudly? Was he some great lord, travelling +unknown, and was the lady----? Well, the conjectures may be guessed, and +Mistress Quinton heard them. Her pride broke for a moment and I feared +she would weep; then she drew herself up and walked slowly by with a +haughty air and a calm face, so that the murmured questions fell to +silence. Perhaps I also had my share in the change, for I walked after +her, wearing a fierce scowl, threatening with my eyes, and having my +hand on the hilt of my sword. + +The host, elate with the honour of Nell's coming, was eager to offer us +accommodation. Barbara addressed not a word either to Nell or to me, but +followed a maid to the chamber allotted to her. Nell was in no such +haste to hide herself from view. She cried for supper, and was led to a +room on the first floor which overlooked the street. She threw the +window open, and exchanged more greetings and banter with her admirers +below. I flung my hat on the table and sat moodily in a chair. Food was +brought, and Nell, turning at last from her entertainment, flew to +partake of it with merry eagerness. + +"But doesn't Mistress Quinton sup with us?" she said. + +Mistress Quinton, it seemed, had no appetite for a meal, was shut close +in her own chamber, and refused all service. Nell laughed and bade me +fall to. I obeyed, being hungry in spite of my discomfort. + +I was resolute not to quarrel with her. She had shewn me great +friendliness; nay, and I had a fondness for her, such as I defy any man +(man I say, not woman) to have escaped. But she tried me sorely, and +while we ate she plied me with new challenges and fresh incitements to +anger. I held my temper well in bounds, and, when I was satisfied, rose +with a bow, saying that I would go and enquire if I could be of any aid +to Mistress Quinton. + +"She won't shew herself to you," cried Nell mockingly. + +"She will, if you're not with me," I retorted. + +"Make the trial! Behold, I'm firmly seated here!" + +A maid carried my message while I paced the corridor; the lady's +compliments returned to me, but, thanks to the attention of the host, +she had need of nothing. I sent again, saying that I desired to speak +with her concerning our journey. The lady's excuses returned to me; she +had a headache and had sought her bed; she must pray me to defer my +business till the morrow, and wished Mistress Gwyn and me good-night. +The maid tripped off smiling. + +"Plague on her!" I cried angrily and loudly. A laugh greeted the +exclamation, and I turned to see Nell standing in the doorway of the +room where we had supped. + +"I knew, I knew!" she cried, revelling in her triumph, her eyes dancing +in delight. "Poor Simon! Alas, poor Simon, you know little of women! But +come, you're a brave lad, and I'll comfort you. Besides you have given +me a jewelled dagger. Shall I lend it to you again, to plunge in your +heart, poor Simon?" + +"I don't understand you. I have no need of a dagger," I answered +stiffly; yet, feeling a fool there in the passage, I followed her into +the room. + +"Your heart is pierced already?" she asked. "Ah, but your heart heals +well! I'll spend no pity on you." + +There was now a new tone in her voice. Her eyes still sparkled in +mischievous exultation that she had proved right and I come away sore +and baffled. But when she spoke of the healing of my heart, there was an +echo of sadness; the hinting of some smothered sorrow seemed to be +struggling with her mirth. She was a creature all compounded of sudden +changing moods; I did not know when they were true, when feigned in +sport or to further some device. She came near now and bent over my +chair, saying gently, + +"Alas, I'm very wicked! I couldn't help the folk cheering me, Simon. +Surely it was no fault of mine?" + +"You had no need to look out of the window of the coach," said I +sternly. + +"But I did that with never a thought. I wanted the air. I----" + +"Nor to jest and banter. It was mighty unseemly, I swear." + +"In truth I was wrong to jest with them," said Nell remorsefully. "And +within, Simon, my heart was aching with shame, even while I jested. Ah, +you don't know the shame I feel!" + +"In good truth," I returned, "I believe you feel no shame at all." + +"You're very cruel to me, Simon. Yet it's no more than my desert. Ah, +if----"; she sighed heavily. "If only, Simon----," she said, and her +hand was very near my hair by the back of the chair. "But that's past +praying," she ended, sighing again most woefully. "Yet I have been of +some service to you." + +"I thank you for it most heartily," said I, still stiff and cold. + +"And I was very wrong to-day. Simon, it was on her account." + +"What?" I cried. "Did Mistress Quinton bid you put your head out and +jest with the fellows on the pavement?" + +"She did not bid me; but I did it because she was there." + +I looked up at her; it was a rare thing with her, but she would not meet +my glance. I looked down again. + +"It was always the same between her and me," murmured Nell. "Ay, so long +ago--even at Hatchstead." + +"We're not in Hatchstead now," said I roughly. + +"No, nor even in Chelsea. For even in Chelsea you had a kindness for +me." + +"I have much kindness for you now." + +"Well, then you had more." + +"It is in your knowledge why now I have no more." + +"Yes, it's in my knowledge!" she cried. "Yet I carried Mistress Quinton +from Dover." + +I made no answer to that. She sighed "Heigho," and for a moment there +was silence. But messages pass without words, and there are speechless +Mercuries who carry tidings from heart to heart. Then the air is full +of whisperings, and silence is but foil to a thousand sounds which the +soul hears though the dull corporeal ear be deaf. Did she still amuse +herself, or was there more? Sometimes a part, assumed in play or malice, +so grows on the actor that he cannot, even when he would, throw aside +his trappings and wash from his face the paint which was to show the +passion that he played. The thing takes hold and will not be thrown +aside; it seems to seek revenge for the light assumption and punishes +the bravado that feigned without feeling by a feeling which is not +feint. She was now, for the moment if you will, but yet now, in earnest. +Some wave of recollection or of fancy had come over her and transformed +her jest. She stole round till her face peeped into mine in piteous +bewitching entreaty, asking a sign of fondness, bringing back the past, +raising the dead from my heart's sepulchre. There was a throbbing in my +brain; yet I had need of a cool head. With a spring I was on my feet. + +"I'll go and ask if Mistress Barbara sleeps," I stammered. "I fear she +may not be well attended." + +"You'll go again? Once scorned, you'll go again, Simon? Well, the maid +will smile; they'll make a story of it among themselves at their supper +in the kitchen." + +The laugh of a parcel of knaves and wenches! Surely it is a small thing! +But men will face death smiling who run wry-faced from such ridicule. I +sank in my chair again. But in truth did I desire to go? The dead rise, +or at least there is a voice that speaks from the tomb. A man tarries to +listen. Well if he be not lost in listening! + +With a sigh Nell moved across the room and flung the window open. The +loiterers were gone, all was still, only the stars looked in, only the +sweet scent of the night made a new companion. + +"It's like a night at Hatchstead," she whispered. "Do you remember how +we walked there together? It smelt as it smells to-night. It's so long +ago!" She came quickly towards me and asked "Do you hate me now?" but +did not wait for the answer. She threw herself in a chair near me and +fixed her eyes on me. It was strange to see her face grave and wrung +with agitation; yet she was better thus, the new timidity became her +marvellously. + +There was a great clock in the corner of the old panelled room; it +ticked solemnly, seeming to keep time with the beating of my heart. I +had no desire to move, but sat there waiting; yet every nerve of my body +was astir. Now I watched her every movement, took reckoning of every +feature, seemed to read more than her outward visage showed and to gain +knowledge of her heart. I knew that she tempted me, and why. I was not a +fool, to think that she loved me; but she was set to conquer me, and +with her there was no price that seemed high when the prize was victory +or a whim's fulfilment. + +I would have written none of this, but that it is so part and marrow of +my history that without it the record of my life would go limping on one +leg. + +She rose and came near me again. Now she laughed, yet still not lightly, +but as though she hid a graver mood. + +"Come," said she, "you needn't fear to be civil to me. Mistress Barbara +is not here." + +The taunt was well conceived; for the most part there is no incitement +that more whips a man to any madness than to lay self-control to the +score of cowardice, and tell him that his scruples are not his own, but +worn by command of another and on pain of her displeasure. But sometimes +woman's cunning goes astray, and a name, used in mockery, speaks for +itself with strong attraction, as though it held the charm of her it +stands for. The name, falling from Nell's pouting lips, had power to +raise in me a picture, and the picture spread, like a very painting done +on canvas, a screen between me and the alluring eyes that sought mine in +provoking witchery. She did not know her word's work, and laughed again +to see me grow yet more grave at Barbara's name. + +"The stern mistress is away," she whispered. "May we not sport? The door +is shut! Why, Simon, you're dull. In truth you're as dull as the King +when his purse is empty." + +I raised my eyes to hers, she read the thought. She tossed her head, +flinging the brown curls back; her eyes twinkled merrily, and she said +in a soft whisper half-smothered in a rising laugh, + +"But, Simon, the King also is away." + +I owed nothing to the King and thought nothing of the King. It was not +there I stuck. Nay, and I did not stick on any score of conscience. Yet +stick I did, and gazed at her with a dumb stare. She seemed to fall into +a sudden rage, crying, + +"Go to her then if you will, but she won't have you. Would you like to +know what she called you to-day in the coach?" + +"I would hear nothing that was not for my ears." + +"A very pretty excuse; but in truth you fear to hear it." + +Alas, the truth was even as she said. I feared to hear it. + +"But you shall hear it. 'A good honest fellow,' she said, 'but somewhat +forward for his station.' So she said, and leant back with half-closed +lids. You know the trick these great ladies have? By Heaven, though, I +think she wronged you! For I'll swear on my Bible that you're not +forward, Simon. Well, I'm not Mistress Quinton." + +"You are not," said I, sore and angry, and wishing to wound her in +revenge for the blow she had dealt me. + +"Now you're gruff with me for what she said. It's a man's way. I care +not. Go and sigh outside her door; she won't open it to you." + +She drew near to me again, coaxing and seeking to soften me. + +"I took your part," she whispered, "and declared that you were a fine +gentleman. Nay, I told her how once I had come near to--Well, I told her +many things that it should please you to hear. But she grew mighty short +with me, and on the top came the folk with their cheers. Hence my lady's +in a rage." + +She shrugged her shoulders; I sat there sullen. The scornful words were +whirling through my brain. "Somewhat forward for his station!" It was a +hard judgment on one who had striven to serve her. In what had I shewn +presumption? Had she not professed to forgive all offence? She kept the +truth for others, and it came out when my back was turned. + +"Poor Simon!" said Nell softly. "Indeed I wonder any lady should speak +so of you. It's an evil return for your kindness to her." + +Silence fell on us for awhile. Nell was by me now, her hand rested +lightly on my shoulder, and, looking up, I saw her eyes on my face in +mingled pensiveness and challenge. + +"Indeed you are not forward," she murmured with a little laugh, and set +one hand over her eyes. + +I sat and looked at her; yet, though I seemed to look at her only, the +whole of the room with its furnishings is stamped clear and clean on my +memory. Nell moved a little away and stood facing me. + +"It grows late," she said softly, "and we must be early on the road. +I'll bid you good-night, and go to my bed." + +She came to me, holding out her hand; I did not take it, but she laid it +for a moment on mine. Then she drew it away and moved towards the door. +I rose and followed her. + +"I'll see you safe on your way," said I in a low voice. She met my gaze +for a moment, but made no answer in words. We were in the corridor now, +and she led the way. Once she turned her head and again looked at me. It +was a sullen face she saw, but still I followed. + +"Tread lightly!" she whispered. "There's her door; we pass it, and she +would not love to know that you escorted me. She scorns you herself, and +yet when another----" The sentence went unended. + +In a tumult of feeling still I followed. I was half-mad with resentment +against Barbara; swearing to myself that her scorn was nothing to me, I +shrank from nothing to prove to my own mind the lie that my heart would +not receive. + +"The door!" whispered Nell, going delicately on her toes with uplifted +forefinger. + +I cannot tell why, but at the word I came to a stand. Nell, looking over +her shoulder and seeing me stand, turned to front me. She smiled +merrily, then frowned, then smiled again with raised eye-brows. I stood +there, as though pinned to the spot. For now I had heard a sound from +within. It came very softly. There was a stir as of someone moving, then +a line of some soft sad song, falling in careless half-consciousness +from saddened lips. The sound fell clear and plain on my ears, though I +paid no heed to the words and have them not in my memory; I think that +in them a maid spoke to her lover who left her, but I am not sure. I +listened. The snatch died away, and the movement in the room ceased. All +was still again, and Nell's eyes were fixed on mine. I met them +squarely, and thus for awhile we stood. Then came the unspoken question, +cried from the eyes that were on mine in a thousand tones. I could trace +the play of her face but dimly by the light of the smoky lantern, but +her eyes I seemed to see bright and near. I had looked for scorn there, +and, it might be, amusement. I seemed to see (perhaps the imperfect +light played tricks), besides lure and raillery, reproach, sorrow, and, +most strange of all, a sort of envy. Then came a smile, and ever so +lightly her finger moved in beckoning. The song came no more through the +closed door: my ears were empty of it, but not my heart; there it +sounded still in its soft pleading cadence. Poor maid, whose lover left +her! Poor maid, poor maid! I looked full at Nell, but did not move. The +lids dropped over her eyes, and their lights went out. She turned and +walked slowly and alone along the corridor. I watched her going, yes, +wistfully I watched. But I did not follow, for the snatch of song rose +in my heart. There was a door at the end of the passage; she opened it +and passed through. For a moment it stood open, then a hand stole back +and slowly drew it close. It was shut. The click of the lock rang loud +and sharp through the silent house. + + + + +CHAPTER XX + +THE VICAR'S PROPOSITION + + +I do not know how long I stood outside the door there in the passage. +After awhile I began to move softly to and fro, more than once reaching +the room where I was to sleep, but returning again to my old post. I was +loth to forsake it. A strange desire was on me. I wished that the door +would open, nay, to open it myself, and by my presence declare what was +now so plain to me. But to her it would not have been plain; for now I +was alone in the passage, and there was nothing to show the thing which +had come to me there, and there at last had left me. Yet it seemed +monstrous that she should not know, possible to tell her to-night, +certain that my shame-faced tongue would find no words to-morrow. It was +a thing that must be said while the glow and the charm of it were still +on me, or it would find no saying. + +The light had burnt down very low, and gave forth a dim fitful glare, +hardly conquering the darkness. Now, again, I was standing still, lost +in my struggle. Presently, with glad amazement, as though there had +come an unlooked-for answer to my prayer, I heard a light step within. +The footfalls seemed to hesitate; then they came again, the bolt of the +door shot back, and a crack of faint light shewed. "Who's there?" asked +Barbara's voice, trembling with alarm or some other agitation which made +her tones quick and timid. I made no answer. The door opened a little +wider. I saw her face as she looked out, half-fearful, yet surely also +half-expectant. Much as I had desired her coming, I would willingly have +escaped now, for I did not know what to say to her. I had rehearsed my +speech a hundred times; the moment for its utterance found me dumb. Yet +the impulse I had felt was still on me, though it failed to give me +words. + +"I thought it was you," she whispered. "Why are you there? Do you want +me?" + +Lame and halting came my answer. + +"I was only passing by on my way to bed," I stammered. "I'm sorry I +roused you." + +"I wasn't asleep," said she. Then after a pause she added, "I--I thought +you had been there some time. Good-night." + +She bade me good-night, but yet seemed to wait for me to speak; since I +was still silent she added, "Is our companion gone to bed?" + +"Some little while back," said I. Then raising my eyes to her face, I +said, "I'm sorry that you don't sleep." + +"Alas, we both have our sorrows," she returned with a doleful smile. +Again there was a pause. + +"Good-night," said Barbara. + +"Good-night," said I. + +She drew back, the door closed, I was alone again in the passage. + +Now if any man--nay, if every man--who reads my history, at this place +close the leaves on his thumb and call Simon Dale a fool, I will not +complain of him; but if he be moved to fling the book away for good and +all, not enduring more of such a fool as Simon Dale, why I will humbly +ask him if he hath never rehearsed brave speeches for his mistress's ear +and found himself tongue-tied in her presence? And if he hath, what did +he then? I wager that, while calling himself a dolt with most hearty +honesty, yet he set some of the blame on her shoulders, crying that he +would have spoken had she opened the way, that it was her reticence, her +distance, her coldness, which froze his eloquence; and that to any other +lady in the whole world he could have poured forth words so full of fire +that they must have inflamed her to a passion like to his own and burnt +down every barrier which parted her heart from his. Therefore at that +moment he searched for accusations against her, and found a +bitter-tasting comfort in every offence that she had given him, and made +treasure of any scornful speech, rescuing himself from the extreme of +foolishness by such excuse as harshness might afford. Now Barbara +Quinton had told Mistress Nell that I was forward for my station. What +man could, what man would, lay bare his heart to a lady who held him to +be forward for his station? + +These meditations took me to my chamber, whither I might have gone an +hour before, and lasted me fully two hours after I had stretched myself +upon the bed. Then I slept heavily; when I woke it was high morning. I +lay there a little while, thinking with no pleasure of the journey +before me. Then having risen and dressed hastily, I made my way to the +room where Nell and I had talked the night before. I did not know in +what mood I should find her, but I desired to see her alone and beg her +to come to some truce with Mistress Quinton, lest our day's travelling +should be over thorns. She was not in the room when I came there. +Looking out of window I perceived the coach at the door; the host was +giving an eye to the horses, and I hailed him. He ran in and a moment +later entered the room. + +"At what hour are we to set out?" I asked. + +"When you will," said he. + +"Have you no orders then from Mistress Gwyn?" + +"She left none with me, sir." + +"Left none?" I cried, amazed. + +A smile came on his lips and his eyes twinkled. + +"Now I thought it!" said he with a chuckle. "You didn't know her +purpose? She has hired a post-chaise and set out two hours ago, telling +me that you and the other lady would travel as well without her, and +that, for her part, she was weary of both of you. But she left a message +for you. See, it lies there on the table." + +A little packet was on the table; I took it up. The innkeeper's eyes +were fixed on me in obvious curiosity and amusement. I was not minded to +afford him more entertainment than I need, and bade him begone before I +opened the packet. He withdrew reluctantly. Then I unfastened Nell's +parcel. It contained ten guineas wrapped in white paper, and on the +inside of the paper was written in a most laborious awkward scrawl (I +fear the execution of it gave poor Nell much pains), "In pay for your +dagger. E.G." It was all of her hand I had ever seen; the brief message +seemed to speak a sadness in her. Perhaps I deluded myself; her skill +with the pen would not serve her far. She had gone, that was the sum of +it, and I was grieved that she had gone in this fashion. + +With the piece of paper still in my hands, the guineas also still +standing in a little pile on the table, I turned to find Barbara Quinton +in the doorway of the room. Her air was timid, as though she were not +sure of welcome, and something of the night's embarrassment still hung +about her. She looked round as though in search for somebody. + +"I am alone here," said I, answering her glance. + +"But she? Mistress----?" + +"She's gone," said I. "I haven't seen her. The innkeeper tells me that +she has been gone these two hours. But she has left us the coach +and----" I walked to the window and looked out. "Yes, and my horse is +there, and her servant with his horse." + +"But why is she gone? Hasn't she left----?" + +"She has left ten guineas also," said I, pointing to the pile on the +table. + +"And no reason for her going?" + +"Unless this be one," I answered, holding out the piece of paper. + +"I won't read it," said Barbara. + +"It says only, 'In pay for your dagger.'" + +"Then it gives no reason." + +"Why, no, it gives none," said I. + +"It's very strange," murmured Barbara, looking not at me but past me. + +Now to me, when I pondered over the matter, it did not seem altogether +strange. Yet where lay the need to tell Mistress Barbara why it seemed +not altogether strange? Indeed I could not have told it easily, seeing +that, look at it how you will, the thing was not easy to set forth to +Mistress Barbara. Doubtless it was but a stretch of fancy to see any +meaning in Nell's mention of the dagger, save the plain one that lay on +the surface; yet had she been given to conceits, she might have used the +dagger as a figure for some wound that I had dealt her. + +"No doubt some business called her," said I rather lamely. "She has +shown much consideration in leaving her coach for us." + +"And the money? Shall you use it?" + +"What choice have I?" + +Barbara's glance was on the pile of guineas. I put out my hand, took +them up, and stowed them in my purse; as I did this, my eye wandered to +the window. Barbara followed my look and my thought also. I had no mind +that this new provision for our needs should share the fate of my last +guinea. + +"You needn't have said that!" cried Barbara, flushing; although, as may +be seen, I had said nothing. + +"I will repay the money in due course," said I, patting my purse. + +We made a meal together in unbroken silence. No more was said of +Mistress Nell; our encounter in the corridor last night seemed utterly +forgotten. Relieved of a presence that was irksome to her and would have +rendered her apprehensive of fresh shame at every place we passed +through, Mistress Barbara should have shown an easier bearing and more +gaiety; so I supposed and hoped. The fact refuted me; silent, cold, and +distant, she seemed in even greater discomfort than when we had a +companion. Her mood called up a like in me, and I began to ask myself +whether for this I had done well to drive poor Nell away. + +Thus in gloom we made ready to set forth. Myself prepared to mount my +horse, I offered to hand Barbara into the coach. Then she looked at me; +I noted it, for she had not done so much for an hour past; a slight +colour came into her cheeks, she glanced round the interior of the +coach; it was indeed wide and spacious for one traveller. + +"You ride to-day also?" she asked. + +The sting that had tormented me was still alive; I could not deny myself +the pleasure of a retort so apt. I bowed low and deferentially, saying, +"I have learnt my station. I would not be so forward as to sit in the +coach with you." The flush on her cheeks deepened suddenly; she +stretched out her hand a little way towards me, and her lips parted as +though she were about to speak. But her hand fell again, and her lips +shut on unuttered words. + +"As you will," she said coldly. "Pray bid them set out." + +Of our journey I will say no more. There is nothing in it that I take +pleasure in telling, and to write its history would be to accuse either +Barbara or myself. For two days we travelled together, she in her coach, +I on horseback. Come to London, we were told that my lord was at +Hatchstead; having despatched our borrowed equipage and servant to their +mistress, and with them the amount of my debt and a most grateful +message, we proceeded on our road, Barbara in a chaise, I again riding. +All the way Barbara shunned me as though I had the plague, and I on my +side showed no desire to be with a companion so averse from my society. +On my life I was driven half-mad, and had that night at Canterbury come +again--well, Heaven be thanked that temptation comes sometimes at +moments when virtue also has attractions, or which of us would stand? +And the night we spent on the road, decorum forbade that we should so +much as speak, much less sup, together; and the night we lay in London, +I spent at one end of the town and she at the other. At least I showed +no forwardness; to that I was sworn, and adhered most obstinately. Thus +we came to Hatchstead, better strangers than ever we had left Dover, +and, although safe and sound from bodily perils and those wiles of +princes that had of late so threatened our tranquillity, yet both of us +as ill in temper as could be conceived. Defend me from any such journey +again! But there is no likelihood of such a trial now, alas! Yes, there +was a pleasure in it; it was a battle, and, by my faith, it was close +drawn between us. + +The chaise stopped at the Manor gates, and I rode up to the door of it, +cap in hand. Here was to be our parting. + +"I thank you heartily, sir," said Barbara in a low voice, with a bow of +her head and a quick glance that would not dwell on my sullen face. + +"My happiness has been to serve you, madame," I returned. "I grieve only +that my escort has been so irksome to you." + +"No," said Barbara, and she said no more, but rolled up the avenue in +her chaise, leaving me to find my way alone to my mother's house. + +I sat a few moments on my horse, watching her go. Then with an oath I +turned away. The sight of the gardener's cottage sent my thoughts back +to the old days when Cydaria came and caught my heart in her butterfly +net. It was just there, in the meadow by the avenue, that I had kissed +her. A kiss is a thing lightly given and sometimes lightly taken. It was +that kiss which Barbara had seen from the window, and great debate had +arisen on it. Lightly given, yet leading on to much that I did not see, +lightly taken, yet perhaps mother to some fancies that men would wonder +to find in Mistress Gwyn. + +"I'm heartily glad to be here!" I cried, loosing the Vicar's hand and +flinging myself into the high arm-chair in the chimney corner. + +My mother received this exclamation as a tribute of filial affection, +the Vicar treated it as an evidence of friendship, my sister Mary saw in +it a thanksgiving for deliverance from the perils and temptations of +London and the Court. Let them take it how they would; in truth it was +inspired in none of these ways, but was purely an expression of relief, +first at having brought Mistress Barbara safe to the Manor, in the +second place, at being quit of her society. + +"I am very curious to learn, Simon," said the Vicar, drawing his chair +near mine, and laying his hand upon my knee, "what passed at Dover. For +it seems to me that there, if at any place in the world, the prophecy +which Betty Nasroth spoke concerning you----" + +"You shall know all in good time, sir," I cried impatiently. + +"Should find its fulfilment," ended the Vicar placidly. + +"Are we not finished with that folly yet?" asked my mother. + +"Simon must tell us that," smiled the Vicar. + +"In good time, in good time," I cried again. "But tell me first, when +did my lord come here from London?" + +"Why, a week ago. My lady was sick, and the physician prescribed the air +of the country for her. But my lord stayed four days only and then was +gone again." + +I started and sat upright in my seat. + +"What, isn't he here now?" I asked eagerly. + +"Why, Simon," said my good mother with a laugh, "we looked to get news +from you, and now we have news to give you! The King has sent for my +lord; I saw his message. It was most flattering and spoke of some urgent +and great business on which the King desired my lord's immediate +presence and counsel. So he set out two days ago to join the King with a +large train of servants, leaving behind my lady, who was too sick to +travel." + +I was surprised at these tidings and fell into deep consideration. What +need had the King of my lord's counsel, and so suddenly? What had been +done at Dover would not be opened to Lord Quinton's ear. Was he summoned +as a Lord of Council or as his daughter's father? For by now the King +must know certain matters respecting my lord's daughter and a humble +gentleman who had striven to serve her so far as his station enabled him +and without undue forwardness. We might well have passed my lord's coach +on the road and not remarked it among the many that met us as we drew +near to London in the evening. I had not observed his liveries, but that +went for nothing. I took heed of little on that journey save the bearing +of Mistress Barbara. Where lay the meaning of my lord's summons? It came +into my mind that M. de Perrencourt had sent messengers from Calais, and +that the King might be seeking to fulfil in another way the bargain +whose accomplishment I had hindered. The thought was new life to me. If +my work were not finished--. I broke off; the Vicar's hand was on my +knee again. + +"Touching the prophecy----" he began. + +"Indeed, sir, in good time you shall know all. It is fulfilled." + +"Fulfilled!" he cried rapturously. "Then, Simon, fortune smiles?" + +"No," I retorted, "she frowns most damnably." + +To swear is a sin, to swear before ladies is bad manners, to swear in +talking to a clergyman is worst of all. But while my mother and my +sister drew away in offence (and I hereby tender them an apology never +yet made) the Vicar only smiled. + +"A plague on such prophecies," said I sourly. + +"Yet if it be fulfilled!" he murmured. For he held more by that than by +any good fortune of mine; me he loved, but his magic was dearer to him. +"You must indeed tell me," he urged. + +My mother approached somewhat timidly. + +"You are come to stay with us, Simon?" she asked. + +"For the term of my life, so far as I know, madame," said I. + +"Thanks to God," she murmured softly. + +There is a sort of saying that a mother speaks and a son hears to his +shame and wonder! Her heart was all in me, while mine was far away. +Despondency had got hold of me. Fortune, in her merriest mood, seeming +bent on fooling me fairly, had opened a door and shown me the prospect +of fine doings and high ambitions realised. The glimpse had been but +brief, and the tricky creature shut the door in my face with a laugh. +Betty Nasroth's prophecy was fulfilled, but its accomplishment left me +in no better state; nay, I should be compelled to count myself lucky if +I came off unhurt and were not pursued by the anger of those great folk +whose wills and whims I had crossed. I must lie quiet in Hatchstead, and +to lie quiet in Hatchstead was hell to me--ay, hell, unless by some +miracle (whereof there was but one way) it should turn to heaven. That +was not for me; I was denied youth's sovereign balm for ill-starred +hopes and ambitions gone awry. + +The Vicar and I were alone now, and I could not but humour him by +telling what had passed. He heard with rare enjoyment; and although his +interest declined from its zenith so soon as I had told the last of the +prophecy, he listened to the rest with twinkling eyes. No comment did he +make, but took snuff frequently. I, my tale done, fell again into +meditation. Yet I had been fired by the rehearsal of my own story, and +my thoughts were less dark in hue. The news concerning Lord Quinton +stirred me afresh. My aid might again be needed; my melancholy was +tinted with pleasant pride as I declared to myself that it should not be +lacking, for all that I had been used as one would not use a faithful +dog, much less a gentleman who, doubtless by no merit of his own but yet +most certainly, had been of no small service. To confess the truth, I +was so persuaded of my value that I looked for every moment to bring me +a summons, and practised under my breath the terms, respectful yet +resentful, in which I would again place my arm and sword at Barbara's +disposal. + +"You loved this creature Nell?" asked the Vicar suddenly. + +"Ay," said I, "I loved her." + +"You love her no more?" + +"Why, no," I answered, mustering a cool smile. "Folly such as that goes +by with youth." + +"Your age is twenty-four?" + +"Yes, I am twenty-four." + +"And you love her no longer?" + +"I tell you, no longer, sir." + +The Vicar opened his box and took a large pinch. + +"Then," said he, the pinch being between his finger and thumb and just +half-way on the road to his nose, "you love some other woman, Simon." + +He spoke not as a man who asks a question nor even as one who hazards an +opinion; he declared a fact and needed no answer to confirm him. "Yes, +you love some other woman, Simon," said he, and there left the matter. + +"I don't," I cried indignantly. Had I told myself a hundred times that I +was not in love to be told by another that I was? True, I might have +been in love, had not---- + +"Ah, who goes there?" exclaimed the Vicar, springing nimbly to the +window and looking out with eagerness. "I seem to know the gentleman. +Come, Simon, look." + +I obeyed him. A gentleman, attended by two servants, rode past rapidly; +twilight had begun to fall, but the light served well enough to show me +who the stranger was. He rode hard and his horse's head was towards the +Manor gates. + +"I think it is my Lord Carford," said the Vicar. "He goes to the Manor, +as I think." + +"I think it is and I think he does," said I; and for a single moment I +stood there in the middle of the room, hesitating, wavering, miserable. + +"What ails you, Simon? Why shouldn't my Lord Carford go to the Manor?" +cried the Vicar. + +"Let him go to the devil!" I cried, and I seized my hat from the table +where it lay. + +The Vicar turned to me with a smile on his lips. + +"Go, lad," said he, "and let me not hear you again deny my propositions. +They are founded on an extensive observation of humanity and----" + +Well, I know not to this day on what besides. For I was out of the house +before the Vicar completed his statement of the authority that underlay +his propositions. + + + + +CHAPTER XXI + +THE STRANGE CONJUNCTURE OF TWO GENTLEMEN + + +I have heard it said that King Charles laughed most heartily when he +learnt how a certain gentleman had tricked M. de Perrencourt and carried +off from his clutches the lady who should have gone to prepare for the +Duchess of York's visit to the Court of France. "This Uriah will not be +set in the forefront of the battle," said he, "and therefore David can't +have his way." He would have laughed, I think, even although my action +had thwarted his own schemes, but the truth is that he had so wrought on +that same devotion to her religion which, according to Mistress Nell, +inspired Mlle. de Querouaille that by the time the news came from Calais +he had little doubt of success for himself although his friend M. de +Perrencourt had been baffled. He had made his treaty, he had got his +money, and the lady, if she would not stay, yet promised to return. The +King then was well content, and found perhaps some sly satisfaction in +the defeat of the great Prince whose majesty and dignity made any +reverse which befell him an amusement to less potent persons. In any +case the King laughed, then grew grave for a moment while he declared +that his best efforts should not be wanting to reclaim Mistress Quinton +to a sense of her duty, and then laughed again. Yet he set about +reclaiming her, although with no great energy or fierceness; and when he +heard that Monmouth had other views of the lady's duty, he shrugged his +shoulders, saying, "Nay, if there be two Davids, I'll wager a crown on +Uriah." + +It is easy to follow a man to the door of a house, but if the door be +shut after him and the pursuer not invited to enter, he can but stay +outside. So it fell out with me, and being outside I did not know what +passed within nor how my Lord Carford fared with Mistress Barbara. I +flung myself in deep chagrin on the grass of the Manor Park, cursing my +fate, myself, and if not Barbara, yet that perversity which was in all +women and, by logic, even in Mistress Barbara. But although I had no +part in it, the play went on and how it proceeded I learnt afterwards; +let me now leave the stage that I have held too long and pass out of +sight till my cue calls me again. + +This evening then, my lady, who was very sick, being in her bed, and +Mistress Barbara, although not sick, very weary of her solitude and +longing for the time when she could betake herself to the same refuge +(for there is a pride that forbids us to seek bed too early, however +strongly we desire it) there came a great knocking at the door of the +house. A gentleman on horseback and accompanied by two servants was +without and craved immediate audience of her ladyship. Hearing that she +was abed, he asked for Mistress Barbara and obtained entrance; yet he +would not give his name, but declared that he came on urgent business +from Lord Quinton. The excuse served, and Barbara received him. With +surprise she found Carford bowing low before her. I had told her enough +concerning him to prevent her welcome being warm. I would have told her +more, had she afforded me the opportunity. The imperfect knowledge that +she had caused her to accuse him rather of a timidity in face of +powerful rivals than of any deliberate design to set his love below his +ambition and to use her as his tool. Had she known all I knew she would +not have listened to him. Even now she made some pretext for declining +conversation that night and would have withdrawn at once; but he stayed +her retreat, earnestly praying her for her father's sake and her own to +hear his message, and asserting that she was in more danger than she was +aware of. Thus he persuaded her to be seated. + +"What is your message from my father, my lord?" she asked coldly, but +not uncivilly. + +"Madame, I have none," he answered with a bluntness not ill calculated. +"I used the excuse to gain admission, fearing that my own devotion to +you would not suffice, well as you know it. But although I have no +message, I think that you will have one soon. Nay, you must listen." For +she had risen. + +"I listen, my lord, but I will listen standing." + +"You're hard to me, Mistress Barbara," he said. "But take the tidings +how you will; only pay heed to them." He drew nearer to her and +continued, "To-morrow a message will come from your father. You have had +none for many days?" + +"Alas, no," said she. "We were both on the road and could send no letter +to one another." + +"To-morrow one comes. May I tell you what it will say?" + +"How can you know what it will say, my lord?" + +"I will stand by the event," said he sturdily. "The coming of the letter +will prove me right or wrong. It will bid your mother and you accompany +the messenger----" + +"My mother cannot----" + +"Or, if your mother cannot, you alone, with some waiting-woman, to +Dover." + +"To Dover?" cried Barbara. "For what purpose?" She shrank away from him, +as though alarmed by the very name of the place whence she had escaped. + +He looked full in her face and answered slowly and significantly: + +"Madame goes back to France, and you are to go with her." + +Barbara caught at a chair near her and sank into it. He stood over her +now, speaking quickly and urgently. + +"You must listen," he said, "and lose no time in acting. A French +gentleman, by name M. de Fontelles, will be here to-morrow; he carries +your father's letter and is sent to bring you to Dover." + +"My father bids me come?" she cried. + +"His letter will convey the request," answered Carford. + +"Then I will go," said she. "I can't come to harm with him, and when I +have told him all, he won't allow me to go to France." For as yet my +lord did not know of what had befallen his daughter, nor did my lady, +whose sickness made her unfit to be burdened with such troublesome +matters. + +"Indeed you would come to no harm with your father, if you found your +father," said Carford. "Come, I will tell you. Before you reach Dover my +lord will have gone from there. As soon as his letter to you was sent +the King made a pretext to despatch him into Cornwall; he wrote again to +tell you of his journey and bid you not come to Dover till he sends for +you. This letter he entrusted to a messenger of my Lord Arlington's who +was taking the road for London. But the Secretary's messengers know when +to hasten and when to loiter on the way. You are to have set out before +the letter arrives." + +Barbara looked at him in bewilderment and terror; he was to all seeming +composed and spoke with an air of honest sincerity. + +"To speak plainly, it is a trick," he said, "to induce you to return to +Dover. This M. de Fontelles has orders to bring you at all hazards, and +is armed with the King's authority in case my lord's bidding should not +be enough." + +She sat for a while in helpless dismay. Carford had the wisdom not to +interrupt her thoughts; he knew that she was seeking for a plan of +escape and was willing to let her find that there was none. + +"When do you say that M. de Fontelles will be here?" she asked at last. + +"Late to-night or early to-morrow. He rested a few hours in London, +while I rode through, else I shouldn't have been here before him." + +"And why are you come, my lord?" she asked. + +"To serve you, madame," he answered simply. + +She drew herself up, saying haughtily, + +"You were not so ready to serve me at Dover." + +Carford was not disconcerted by an attack that he must have foreseen; he +had the parry ready for the thrust. + +"From the danger that I knew I guarded you, the other I did not know." +Then with a burst of well-feigned indignation he cried, "By Heaven, but +for me the French King would have been no peril to you; he would have +come too late." + +She understood him and flushed painfully. + +"When the enemy is mighty," he pursued, "we must fight by guile, not +force; when we can't oppose we must delay; we must check where we can't +stop. You know my meaning: to you I couldn't put it more plainly. But +now I have spoken plainly to the Duke of Monmouth, praying something +from him in my own name as well as yours. He is a noble Prince, madame, +and his offence should be pardoned by you who caused it. Had I thwarted +him openly, he would have been my enemy and yours. Now he is your friend +and mine." + +The defence was clever enough to bridle her indignation. He followed up +his advantage swiftly, leaving her no time to pry for a weak spot in his +pleading. + +"By Heaven," he cried, "let us lose no time on past troubles. I was to +blame, if you will, in execution, though not, I swear, in intention. But +here and now is the danger, and I am come to guard you from it." + +"Then I am much in your debt, my lord," said she, still doubtful, yet in +her trouble eager to believe him honest. + +"Nay," said he, "all that I have, madame, is yours, and you can't be in +debt to your slave." + +I do not doubt that in this speech his passion seemed real enough, and +was the more effective from having been suppressed till now, so that it +appeared to break forth against his will. Indeed although he was a man +in whom ambition held place of love, yet he loved her and would have +made her his for passion's sake as well as for the power that he hoped +to wield through her means. I hesitate how to judge him; there are many +men who take their colour from the times, as some insects from the +plants they feed on; in honest times they would be honest, in debauched +they follow the evil fashion, having no force to stand by themselves. +Perhaps this lord was one of this kidney. + +"It's an old story, this love of mine," said he in gentler tones. "Twice +you have heard it, and a lover who speaks twice must mourn once at +least; yet the second time I think you came nearer to heeding it. May I +tell it once again?" + +"Indeed it is not the time----" she began in an agitated voice. + +"Be your answer what it may, I am your servant," he protested. "My hand +and heart are yours, although yours be another's." + +"There is none--I am free--" she murmured. His eyes were on her and she +nerved herself to calm, saying, "There is nothing of what you suppose. +But my disposition towards you, my lord, has not changed." + +He let a moment go by before he answered her; he made it seem as though +emotion forbade earlier speech. Then he said gravely, + +"I am grieved from my heart to hear it, and I pray Heaven that an early +day may bring me another answer. God forbid that I should press your +inclination now. You may accept my service freely, although you do not +accept my love. Mistress Barbara, you'll come with me?" + +"Come with you?" she cried. + +"My lady will come also, and we three together will seek your father in +Cornwall. On my faith, madame, there is no safety but in flight." + +"My mother lies too sick for travelling. Didn't you hear it from my +father?" + +"I haven't seen my lord. My knowledge of his letter came through the +Duke of Monmouth, and although he spoke there of my lady's sickness, I +trusted that she had recovered." + +"My mother cannot travel. It is impossible." + +He came a step nearer her. + +"Fontelles will be here to-morrow," he said. "If you are here then----! +Yet if there be any other whose aid you could seek----?" Again he +paused, regarding her intently. + +She sat in sore distress, twisting her hands in her lap. One there was, +and not far away. Yet to send for him crossed her resolution and stung +her pride most sorely. We had parted in anger, she and I; I had blamed +my share in the quarrel bitterly enough, it is likely she had spared +herself no more; yet the more fault is felt the harder comes its +acknowledgment. + +"Is Mr Dale in Hatchstead?" asked Carford boldly and bluntly. + +"I don't know where he is. He brought me here, but I have heard nothing +from him since we parted." + +"Then surely he is gone again?" + +"I don't know," said Barbara. + +Carford must have been a dull man indeed not to discern how the matter +lay. There is no better time to press a lady than when she is chagrined +with a rival and all her pride is under arms to fight her inclination. + +"Surely, or he could not have shewn you such indifference--nay, I must +call it discourtesy." + +"He did me service." + +"A gentleman, madame, should grow more, not less, assiduous when he is +so happy as to have put a lady under obligation." + +He had said enough, and restrained himself from a further attack. + +"What will you do?" he went on. + +"Alas, what can I do?" Then she cried, "This M. de Fontelles can't carry +me off against my will." + +"He has the King's commands," said Carford. "Who will resist him?" + +She sprang to her feet and turned on him quickly. + +"Why you," she said. "Alone with you I cannot and will not go. But you +are my--you are ready to serve me. You will resist M. de Fontelles for +my sake, ay, and for my sake the King's commands." + +Carford stood still, amazed at the sudden change in her manner. He had +not conceived this demand and it suited him very ill. The stroke was too +bold for his temper; the King was interested in this affair, and it +might go hard with the man who upset his plan and openly resisted his +messenger. Carford had calculated on being able to carry her off, and +thus defeat the scheme under show of ignorance. The thing done, and done +unwittingly, might gain pardon; to meet and defy the enemy face to face +was to stake all his fortune on a desperate chance. He was dumb. +Barbara's lips curved into a smile that expressed wonder and dawning +contempt. + +"You hesitate, sir?" she asked. + +"The danger is great," he muttered. + +"You spoke of discourtesy just now, my lord----" + +"You do not lay it to my charge?" + +"Nay, to refuse to face danger for a lady, and a lady whom a man +loves--you meant that, my lord?--goes by another name. I forgive +discourtesy sooner than that other thing, my lord." + +His face grew white with passion. She accused him of cowardice and +plainly hinted to him that, if he failed her, she would turn to one who +was no coward, let him be as discourteous and indifferent as his sullen +disposition made him. I am sorry I was not there to see Carford's face. +But he was in the net of her challenge now, and a bold front alone would +serve. + +"By God, madame," he cried, "you shall know by to-morrow how deeply you +wrong me. If my head must answer for it, you shall have the proof." + +"I thank you, my lord," said she with a little bow, as though she asked +no more than her due in demanding that he should risk his head for her. +"I did not doubt your answer." + +"You shall have no cause, madame," said he very boldly, although he +could not control the signs of his uneasiness. + +"Again I thank you," said she. "It grows late, my lord. By your +kindness, I shall sleep peacefully and without fear. Good-night." She +moved towards the door, but turned to him again, saying, "I pray your +pardon, but even hospitality must give way to sickness. I cannot +entertain you suitably while my mother lies abed. If you lodge at the +inn, they will treat you well for my father's sake, and a message from +me can reach you easily." + +Carford had strung himself to give the promise; whether he would fulfil +it or not lay uncertain in the future. But for so much as he had done he +had a mind to be paid. He came to her, and, kneeling, took her hand; she +suffered him to kiss it. + +"There is nothing I wouldn't do to win my prize," he said, fixing his +eyes ardently on her face. + +"I have asked nothing but what you seemed to offer," she answered +coldly. "If it be a matter of bargain, my lord----" + +"No, no," he cried, seeking to catch again at her hand as she drew it +away and with a curtsey passed out. + +Thus she left him without so much as a backward glance to presage +future favour. So may a lady, if she plays her game well, take all and +promise nothing. + +Carford, refused even a lodging in the house, crossed in the plan by +which he had reckoned on getting Barbara into his power, driven to an +enterprise for which he had small liking, and left in utter doubt +whether the success for which he ran so great a risk would profit him, +may well have sought the inn to which Barbara commended him in no +cheerful mood. I wager he swore a round oath or two as he and his +servants made their way thither through the dark and knocked up the +host, who, keeping country hours, was already in his bed. It cost them +some minutes to rouse him, and Carford beat most angrily on the door. At +last they were admitted. And I turned away. + +For I must confess it; I had dogged their steps, not able to rest till I +saw what would become of Carford. Yet we must give love his due; if he +takes a man into strange places, sometimes he shows him things worth his +knowing. If I, a lovesick fool, had watched a rival into my mistress's +house and watched him out of it with devouring jealousy, ay, if I had +chosen to spend my time beneath the Manor windows rather than in my own +comfortable chair, why, I had done only what many who are now wise and +sober gentleman have done in their time. And if once in that same park I +had declared my heart broken for the sake of another lady, there are +revolutions in hearts as in states, and, after the rebels have had +their day, the King comes to his own again. Nay, I have known some who +were very loyal to King Charles, and yet said nothing hard of Oliver, +whose yoke they once had worn. I will say nought against my usurper, +although the Queen may have come to her own again. + +Well, Carford should not have her. I, Simon Dale, might be the greatest +fool in the King's dominions, and lie sulking while another stormed the +citadel on which I longed to plant my flag. But the victor should not be +Carford. Among gentlemen a quarrel is easily come by; yokels may mouth +their blowsy sweetheart's name and fight openly for her favour over +their mugs of ale; we quarrel on the state of the Kingdom, the fall of +the cards, the cut of our coats, what you will. Carford and I would find +a cause without much searching. I was so hot that I was within an ace of +summoning him then and there to show by what right he rode so boldly +through my native village; that offence would serve as well as any +other. Yet prudence prevailed. The closed doors of the inn hid the party +from my sight, and I went on my way, determined to be about by cockcrow, +lest Carford should steal a march. + +But as I went I passed the Vicar's door. He stood on the threshold, +smoking his long pipe (the good man loved Virginia and gave his love +free rein in the evening) and gazing at the sky. I tried to slink by +him, fearing to be questioned; he caught sight of my figure and called +me to him; but he made no reference to the manner of our last parting. + +"Whither away, Simon?" he asked. + +"To bed, sir," said I. + +"It is well," said he. "And whence?" + +"From a walk, sir." + +His eyes met mine, and I saw them twinkle. He waved the stem of his pipe +in the air, and said, + +"Love, Simon, is a divine distemper of the mind, wherein it paints bliss +with woe's palate and sees heaven from hell." + +"You borrow from the poets, sir," said I surlily. + +"Nay," he rejoined, "the poets from me, or from any man who has or has +had a heart in him. What, Simon, you leave me?" For I had turned away. + +"It's late, sir," said I, "for the making of rhapsodies." + +"You've made yours," he smiled. "Hark, what's that?" + +As he spoke there came the sound of horse's hoofs. A moment later the +figures of two mounted men emerged from the darkness. By some impulse, I +know not what, I ran behind the Vicar and sheltered myself in the porch +at his back. Carford's arrival had set my mind astir again, and new +events found ready welcome. The Vicar stepped out a pace into the road +with his hand over his eyes, and peered at the strangers. + +"What do you call this place, sir?" came in a loud voice from the nearer +of the riders. I started at the voice; it had struck on my ears before, +and no Englishman owned it. + +"It is the village of Hatchstead, at your service," answered the Vicar. + +"Is there an inn in it?" + +"Ride for half a mile and you'll find a good one." + +"I thank you, sir." + +I could hold myself in no longer, but pushed the Vicar aside and ran out +into the road. The horsemen had already turned their faces towards the +inn, and walked along slowly, as though they were weary. "Good-night," +cried the Vicar--whether to them or to me or to all creation I know not. +The door closed on him. I stood for an instant, watching the retreating +form of the man who had enquired the way. A spirit of high excitement +came on me; it might be that all was not finished, and that Betty +Nasroth's prophecy should not bind the future in fetters. For there at +the inn was Carford, and here, if I did not err, was the man whom my +knowledge of French had so perplexed in the inn at Canterbury. + +And Carford knew Fontelles. On what errand did they come? Were they +friends to one another or foes? If friends, they should find an enemy; +if foes, there was another to share their battle. I could not tell the +meaning of this strange conjuncture whereby the two came to Hatchstead; +yet my guess was not far out, and I hailed the prospect that it gave +with a fierce exultation. Nay I laughed aloud, but first knew that I +laughed when suddenly M. de Fontelles turned in his saddle, crying in +French to his servant: + +"What was that?" + +"Something laughed," answered the fellow in an alarmed voice. + +"Something? You mean somebody." + +"I know not, it sounded strange." + +I had stepped in under the hedge when Fontelles turned, but his puzzle +and the servant's superstitious fear wrought on my excitement. Nothing +would serve me but to play a jest on the Frenchman. I laughed again +loudly. + +"God save us!" cried the servant, and I make no doubt he crossed himself +most piously. + +"It's some madman got loose," said M. de Fontelles scornfully. "Come, +let's get on." + +It was a boy's trick--a very boy's trick. Save that I set down +everything I would not tell it. I put my hands to my mouth and bellowed: + +"_Il vient!_" + +An oath broke from Fontelles. I darted into the middle of the road and +for a moment stood there laughing again. He had wheeled his horse round, +but did not advance towards me. I take it that he was amazed, or, it may +be, searching a bewildered memory. + +"_Il vient!_" I cried again in my folly, and, turning, ran down the +road at my best speed, laughing still. Fontelles made no effort to +follow me, yet on I ran, till I came to my mother's house. Stopping +there, panting and breathless, I cried in the exuberance of triumph: + +"Now she'll have need of me!" + +Certainly the thing the Vicar spoke of is a distemper. Whether divine or +of what origin I will not have judged by that night's prank of mine. + +"They'll do very well together at the inn," I laughed, as I flung myself +on my bed. + + + + +CHAPTER XXII + +THE DEVICE OF LORD CARFORD + + +It is not my desire to assail, not is it my part to defend, the +reputation of the great. There is no such purpose in anything that I +have written here. History is their judge, and our own weakness their +advocate. Some said, and many believed, that Madame brought the young +French lady in her train to Dover with the intention that the thing +should happen which happened. I had rather hold, if it be possible to +hold, that a Princess so gracious and so unfortunate meant innocently, +and was cajoled or overborne by the persuasions of her kinsmen, and +perhaps by some specious pretext of State policy. In like manner I am +reluctant to think that she planned harm for Mistress Barbara, towards +whom she had a true affection, and I will read in an honest sense, if I +can, the letter which M. de Fontelles brought with him to Hatchstead. In +it Madame touched with a light discretion on what had passed, deplored +with pretty gravity the waywardness of men, and her own simplicity which +made her a prey to their devices and rendered her less useful to her +friends than she desired to be. Yet now she was warned, her eyes were +open, she would guard her own honour, and that of any who would trust to +her. Nay, he himself, M. de Perrencourt, was penitent (even as was the +Duke of Monmouth!), and had sworn to trouble her and her friends no +more. Would not then her sweet Mistress Barbara, with whom she vowed she +had fallen so mightily in love, come back to her and go with her to +France, and be with her until the Duchess of York came, and, in good +truth, as much longer as Barbara would linger, and Barbara's father in +his kindness suffer. So ran the letter, and it seemed an honest letter. +But I do not know; and if it were honest, yet who dared trust to it? +Grant Madame the best of will, where lay her power to resist M. de +Perrencourt? But M. de Perrencourt was penitent. Ay, his penitence was +for having let the lady go, and would last until she should be in his +power again. + +Let the intent of the letter he carried be what it might, M. de +Fontelles, a gentleman of courage and high honour, believed his business +honest. He had not been at Dover, and knew nothing of what had passed +there; if he were an instrument in wicked schemes, he did not know the +mind of those who employed him. He came openly to Hatchstead on an +honourable mission, as he conceived, and bearing an invitation which +should give great gratification to the lady to whom it was addressed. +Madame did Mistress Quinton the high compliment of desiring her company, +and would doubtless recompense her well for the service she asked. +Fontelles saw no more and asked no more. In perfect confidence and +honesty he set about his task, not imagining that he had been sent on an +errand with which any man could reproach him, or with a purpose that +gave any the right of questioning his actions. Nor did my cry of "_Il +vient_" change this mood in him. When he collected his thoughts and +recalled the incident in which those words had played a part before, he +saw in them the challenge of someone who had perhaps penetrated a State +secret, and was ill-affected towards the King and the King's policy; +but, being unaware of any connection between Mistress Barbara and M. de +Perrencourt, he did not associate the silly cry with the object of his +present mission. So also, on hearing that a gentleman was at the inn +(Carford had not given his name) and had visited the Manor, he was in no +way disquieted, but ready enough to meet any number of gentlemen without +fearing their company or their scrutiny. + +Gaily and courteously he presented himself to Barbara. Her mother lay +still in bed, and she received him alone in the room looking out on the +terrace. With a low bow and words of deference he declared his errand, +and delivered to her the letter he bore from Madame, making bold to add +his own hopes that Mistress Quinton would not send him back +unsuccessful, but let him win the praise of a trustworthy messenger. +Then he twirled his moustaches, smiled gallantly, and waited with all +composure while she read the letter. Indeed he deserves some pity, for +women are wont to spend much time on reasoning in such a case. When a +man comes on a business which they suspect to be evil, they make no ado +about holding him a party to it, and that without inquiring whether he +knows the thing to which he is setting his hand. + +Barbara read her letter through once and a second time; then, without a +word to Fontelles, aye, not so much as bidding him be seated, she called +a servant and sent him to the inn to summon Carford to her. She spoke +low, and the Frenchman did not hear. When they were again alone +together, Barbara walked to the window, and stood there looking out. +Fontelles, growing puzzled and ill at ease, waited some moments before +he ventured to address her; her air was not such as to encourage him; +her cheek was reddened and her eyes were indignant. Yet at last he +plucked up his courage. + +"I trust, madame," said he, "that I may carry the fairest of answers +back with me?" + +"What answer is that, sir?" she asked, half-turning to him with a +scornful glance. + +"Yourself, madame, if you will so honour me," he answered, bowing. "Your +coming would be the answer best pleasing to Madame, and the best +fulfilment of my errand." + +She looked at him coolly for a moment or two, and then said, + +"I have sent for a gentleman who will advise me on my answer." + +M. de Fontelles raised his brows, and replied somewhat stiffly, + +"You are free, madame, to consult whom you will, although I had hoped +that the matter needed but little consideration." + +She turned full on him in a fury. + +"I thank you for your judgment of me, sir," she cried. "Or is it that +you think me a fool to be blinded by this letter?" + +"Before heaven----" began the puzzled gentleman. + +"I know, sir, in what esteem a woman's honour is held in your country +and at your King's Court." + +"In as high, madame, as in your country and at your Court." + +"Yes, that's true. God help me, that's true! But we are not at Court +now, sir. Hasn't it crossed your mind that such an errand as yours may +be dangerous?" + +"I had not thought it," said he with a smile and a shrug. "But, pardon +me, I do not fear the danger." + +"Neither danger nor disgrace?" she sneered. + +Fontelles flushed. + +"A lady, madame, may say what she pleases," he remarked with a bow. + +"Oh, enough of pretences," she cried. "Shall we speak openly?" + +"With all my heart, madame," said he, lost between anger and +bewilderment. + +For a moment it seemed as though she would speak, but the shame of open +speech was too great for her. In his ignorance and wonder he could do +nothing to aid her. + +"I won't speak of it," she said. "It's a man's part to tell you the +truth, and to ask account from you. I won't soil my lips with it." + +Fontelles took a step towards her, seeking how he could assuage a fury +that he did not understand. + +"As God lives----" he began gravely. Barbara would not give him +opportunity. + +"I pray you," she cried, "stand aside and allow me to pass. I will not +stay longer with you. Let me pass to the door, sir. I'll send a +gentleman to speak with you." + +Fontelles, deeply offended, utterly at a loss, flung the door open for +her and stood aside to let her pass. + +"Madame," he said, "it must be that you misapprehend." + +"Misapprehend? Yes, or apprehend too clearly!" + +"As I am a gentleman----" + +"I do not grant it, sir," she interrupted. + +He was silent then; bowing again, he drew a pace farther back. She stood +for a moment, looking scornfully at him. Then with a curtsey she bade +him farewell and passed out, leaving him in as sad a condition as ever +woman's way left man since the world began. + +Now, for reasons that have been set out, Carford received his summons +with small pleasure, and obeyed it so leisurely that M. de Fontelles had +more time than enough in which to rack his brains for the meaning of +Mistress Barbara's taunts. But he came no nearer the truth, and was +reduced to staring idly out of the window till the gentleman who was to +make the matter plain should arrive. Thus he saw Carford coming up to +the house on foot, slowly and heavily, with a gloomy face and a nervous +air. Fontelles uttered an exclamation of joy; he had known Carford, and +a friend's aid would put him right with this hasty damsel who denied him +even the chance of self-defence. He was aware also that, in spite of his +outward devotion to the Duke of Monmouth, Carford was in reality of the +French party. So he was about to run out and welcome him, when his steps +were stayed by the sight of Mistress Barbara herself, who flew to meet +the new-comer with every sign of eagerness. Carford saluted her, and the +pair entered into conversation on the terrace, Fontelles watching them +from the window. To his fresh amazement, the interview seemed hardly +less fierce than his own had been. The lady appeared to press some +course on her adviser, which the adviser was loth to take; she insisted, +growing angry in manner; he, having fenced for awhile and protested, +sullenly gave way; he bowed acquiescence while his demeanour asserted +disapproval, she made nothing of his disapproval and received his +acquiescence with a scorn little disguised. Carford passed on to the +house; Barbara did not follow him, but, flinging herself on a marble +seat, covered her face with her hands and remained there in an attitude +which spoke of deep agitation and misery. + +"By my faith," cried honest M. de Fontelles, "this matter is altogether +past understanding!" + +A moment later Carford entered the room and greeted him with great +civility. M. de Fontelles lost no time in coming to the question; his +grievance was strong and bitter, and he poured out his heart without +reserve. Carford listened, saying little, but being very attentive and +keeping his shrewd eyes on the other's face. Indignation carried +Fontelles back and forwards along the length of the room in restless +paces; Carford sat in a chair, quiet and wary, drinking in all that the +angry gentleman said. My Lord Carford was not one who believed hastily +in the honour and honesty of his fellow-men, nor was he prone to expect +a simple heart rather than a long head; but soon he perceived that the +Frenchman was in very truth ignorant of what lay behind his mission, and +that Barbara's usage of him caused genuine and not assumed offence. The +revelation set my lord a-thinking. + +"And she sends for you to advise her?" cried Fontelles. "That, my +friend, is good; you can advise her only in one fashion." + +"I don't know that," said Carford, feeling his way. + +"It is because you don't know all. I have spoken gently to her, seeking +to win her by persuasion. But to you I may speak plainly. I have direct +orders from the King to bring her and to suffer no man to stop me. +Indeed, my dear lord, there is no choice open to you. You wouldn't +resist the King's command?" + +Yet Barbara demanded that he should resist even the King's command. +Carford said nothing, and the impetuous Frenchman ran on: + +"Nay, it would be the highest offence to myself to hinder me. Indeed, my +lord, all my regard for you could not make me suffer it. I don't know +what this lady has against me, nor who has put this nonsense in her +head. It cannot be you? You don't doubt my honour? You don't taunt me +when I call myself a gentleman?" + +He came to a pause before Carford, expecting an answer to his hot +questions. He saw offence in the mere fact that Carford was still +silent. + +"Come, my lord," he cried, "I do not take pleasure in seeing you think +so long. Isn't your answer easy?" He assumed an air of challenge. + +Carford was, I have no doubt, most plagued and perplexed. He could have +dealt better with a knave than with this fiery gentleman. Barbara had +demanded of him that he should resist even the King's command. He might +escape that perilous obligation by convincing Fontelles himself that he +was a tool in hands less honourable than his own; then the Frenchman +would in all likelihood abandon his enterprise. But with him would go +Carford's hold on Barbara and his best prospect of winning her; for in +her trouble lay his chance. If, on the other hand, he quarrelled openly +with Fontelles, he must face the consequences he feared or incur +Barbara's unmeasured scorn. He could not solve the puzzle and determined +to seek a respite. + +"I do not doubt your honour, sir," he said. Fontelles bowed gravely. +"But there is more in this matter than you know. I must beg a few hours +for consideration and then I will tell you all openly." + +"My orders will not endure much delay." + +"You can't take the lady by force." + +"I count on the aid of my friends and the King's to persuade her to +accompany me willingly." + +I do not know whether the words brought the idea suddenly and as if with +a flash into Carford's head. It may have been there dim and vague +before, but now it was clear. He paused on his way to the door, and +turned back with brightened eyes. He gave a careless laugh, saying, + +"My dear Fontelles, you have more than me to reckon with before you take +her away." + +"What do you mean, my lord?" + +"Why, men in love are hard to reason with, and with fools in love there +is no reasoning at all. Come, I'm your friend, although there is for the +moment a difficulty that keeps us apart. Do you chance to remember our +meeting at Canterbury?" + +"Why, very well." + +"And a young fellow who talked French to you?" Carford laughed again. +"He disturbed you mightily by calling out----" + +"'_Il vient!_'" cried Fontelles, all on the alert. + +"Precisely. Well, he may disturb you again." + +"By Heaven, then he's here?" + +"Why, yes." + +"I met him last night! He cried those words to me again. The insolent +rascal! I'll make him pay for it." + +"In truth you've a reckoning to settle with him." + +"But how does he come into this matter?" + +"Insolent still, he's a suitor for Mistress Quinton's hand." + +Fontelles gave a scornful shrug of his shoulders; Carford, smiling and +more at ease, watched him. The idea promised well; it would be a stroke +indeed could the quarrel be shifted on to my shoulders, and M. de +Fontelles and I set by the ears; whatever the issue of that difference, +Carford stood to win by it. And I, not he, would be the man to resist +the King's commands. + +"But how comes he here?" cried Fontelles. + +"The fellow was born here. He is an old neighbour of Mistress Quinton." + +"Dangerous then?" + +It was Carford's turn to shrug his shoulders, as he said, + +"Fools are always dangerous. Well, I'll leave you. I want to think. Only +remember; if you please to be on your guard against me, why, be more on +your guard against Simon Dale." + +"He dares not stop me. Nay, why should he? What I propose is for the +lady's advantage." + +Carford saw the quarrel he desired fairly in the making. M. de Fontelles +was honest, M. de Fontelles was hot-tempered, M. de Fontelles would be +told that he was a rogue. To Carford this seemed enough. + +"You would do yourself good if you convinced him of that," he answered. +"For though she would not, I think, become his wife, he has the +influence of long acquaintance, and might use it against you. But +perhaps you're too angry with him?" + +"My duty comes before my quarrel," said Fontelles. "I will seek this +gentleman." + +"As you will. I think you're wise. They will know at the inn where to +find him." + +"I will see him at once," cried Fontelles. "I have, it seems, two +matters to settle with this gentleman." + +Carford, concealing his exultation, bade M. de Fontelles do as seemed +best to him. Fontelles, declaring again that the success of his mission +was nearest his heart, but in truth eager to rebuke or chasten my +mocking disrespect, rushed from the room. Carford followed more +leisurely. He had at least time for consideration now; and there were +the chances of this quarrel all on his side. + +"Will you come with me?" asked Fontelles. + +"Nay, it's no affair of mine. But if you need me later----" He nodded. +If it came to a meeting, his services were ready. + +"I thank you, my lord," said the Frenchman, understanding his offer. + +They were now at the door, and stepped out on the terrace. Barbara, +hearing their tread, looked up. She detected the eagerness in M. de +Fontelles' manner. He went up to her at once. + +"Madame," he said, "I am forced to leave you for a while, but I shall +soon return. May I pray you to greet me more kindly when I return?" + +"In frankness, sir, I should be best pleased if you did not return," she +said coldly, then, turning to Carford, she looked inquiringly at him. +She conceived that he had done her bidding, and thought that the +gentlemen concealed their quarrel from her. "You go with M. de +Fontelles, my lord?" she asked. + +"With your permission, I remain here," he answered. + +She was vexed, and rose to her feet as she cried, + +"Then where is M. de Fontelles going?" + +Fontelles took the reply for himself. + +"I am going to seek a gentleman with whom I have business," said he. + +"You have none with my Lord Carford?" + +"What I have with him will wait." + +"He desires it should wait?" she asked in a quick tone. + +"Yes, madame." + +"I'd have sworn it," said Barbara Quinton. + +"But with Mr Simon Dale----" + +"With Simon Dale? What concern have you with Simon Dale?" + +"He has mocked me twice, and I believe hinders me now," returned +Fontelles, his hot temper rising again. + +Barbara clasped her hands, and cried triumphantly, + +"Go to him, go to him. Heaven is good to me! Go to Simon Dale!" + +The amazed eyes of Fontelles and the sullen enraged glance of Carford +recalled her to wariness. Yet the avowal (O, that it had pleased God I +should hear it!) must have its price and its penalty. A burning flush +spread over her face and even to the border of the gown on her neck. But +she was proud in her shame, and her eyes met theirs in a level gaze. + +To Fontelles her bearing and the betrayal of herself brought fresh and +strong confirmation of Carford's warning. But he was a gentleman, and +would not look at her when her blushes implored the absence of his eyes. + +"I go to seek Mr Dale," said he gravely, and without more words turned +on his heel. + +In a sudden impulse, perhaps a sudden doubt of her judgment of him, +Barbara darted after him. + +"For what purpose do you seek him?" + +"Madame," he answered, "I cannot tell you." + +She looked for a moment keenly in his face; her breath came quick and +fast, the hue of her cheek flashed from red to white. + +"Mr Dale," said she, drawing herself up, "will not fear to meet you." + +Again Fontelles bowed, turned, and was gone, swiftly and eagerly +striding down the avenue, bent on finding me. + +Barbara was left alone with Carford. His heavy frown and surly eyes +accused her. She had no mind to accept the part of the guilty. + +"Well, my lord," she said, "have you told this M. de Fontelles what +honest folk would think of him and his errand?" + +"I believe him to be honest," answered Carford. + +"You live the quieter for your belief!" she cried contemptuously. + +"I live the less quiet for what I have seen just now," he retorted. + +There was a silence. Barbara stood with heaving breast, he opposite to +her, still and sullen. She looked long at him, but at last seemed not to +see him; then she spoke in soft tones, not as though to him, but rather +in an answer to her own heart, whose cry could go no more unheeded. Her +eyes grew soft and veiled in a mist of tears that did not fall. (So I +see it--she told me no more than that she was near crying.) + +"I couldn't send for him," she murmured. "I wouldn't send for him. But +now he will come, yes, he'll come now." + +Carford, driven half-mad by an outburst which his own device had caused, +moved by whatever of true love he had for her, and by his great rage and +jealousy against me, fairly ran at her and caught her by the wrist. + +"Why do you talk of him? Do you love him?" he said from between clenched +teeth. + +She looked at him, half-angry, half-wondering. Then she said, + +"Yes." + +"Nell Gwyn's lover?" said Carford. + +Her cheek flushed again, and a sob caught her voice as it came. + +"Yes," said she. "Nell Gywn's lover." + +"You love him?" + +"Always, always, always." Then she drew herself near to him in a sudden +terror. "Not a word, not a word," she cried. "I don't know what you are, +I don't trust you; forgive me, forgive me; but whatever you are, for +pity's sake, ah, my dear lord, for pity's sake, don't tell him. Not a +word!" + +"I will not speak of it to M. de Fontelles," said Carford. + +An amazed glance was followed by a laugh that seemed half a sob. + +"M. de Fontelles! M. de Fontelles! No, no, but don't tell Simon." + +Carford's lips bent in a forced smile uglier than a scowl. + +"You love this fellow?" + +"You have heard." + +"And he loves you?" + +The sneer was bitter and strong. In it seemed now to lie Carford's only +hope. Barbara met his glance an instant, and her answer to him was, + +"Go, go." + +"He loves you?" + +"Leave me. I beg you to leave me. Ah, God, won't you leave me?" + +"He loves you?" + +Her face went white. For a while she said nothing; then in a calm quiet +voice, whence all life and feeling, almost all intelligence, seemed to +have gone, she answered, + +"I think not, my lord." + +He laughed. "Leave me," she said again, and he, in grace of what +manhood there was in him, turned on his heel and went. She stood alone, +there on the terrace. + +Ah, if God had let me be there! Then she should not have stood desolate, +nor flung herself again on the marble seat. Then she should not have +wept as though her heart broke, and all the world were empty. If I had +been there, not the cold marble should have held her, and for every +sweetest tear there should have been a sweeter kiss. Grief should have +been drowned in joy, while love leapt to love in the fulness of delight. +Alas for pride, breeder of misery! Not life itself is so long as to give +atonement to her for that hour; though she has said that one moment, a +certain moment, was enough. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIII + + +A PLEASANT PENITENCE + + +There was this great comfort in the Vicar's society that, having once +and for all stated the irrefutable proposition which I have recorded, he +let the matter alone. Nothing was further from his thoughts than to +argue on it, unless it might be to take any action in regard to it. To +say the truth, and I mean no unkindness to him in saying it, the affair +did not greatly engage his thoughts. Had Betty Nasroth dealt with it, +the case would doubtless have been altered, and he would have followed +its fortune with a zest as keen as that he had bestowed on my earlier +unhappy passion. But the prophecy had stopped short, and all that was of +moment for the Vicar in my career, whether in love, war, or State, was +finished; I had done and undergone what fate declared and demanded, and +must now live in gentle resignation. Indeed I think that in his inmost +heart he wondered a little to find me living on at all. This attitude +was very well for him, and I found some amusement in it even while I +chafed at his composed acquiescence in my misfortunes. But at times I +grew impatient, and would fling myself out of the house, crying "Plague +on it, is this old crone not only to drive me into folly, but to forbid +me a return to wisdom?" + +In such a mood I had left him, to wander by myself about the lanes, +while he sat under the porch of his house with a great volume open on +his knees. The book treated of Vaticination in all its branches, and the +Vicar read diligently, being so absorbed in his study that he did not +heed the approach of feet, and looked up at last with a start. M. de +Fontelles stood there, sent on from the inn to the parsonage in the +progress of his search for me. + +"I am called Georges de Fontelles, sir," he began. + +"I am the Vicar of this parish, at your service, sir," returned the +Vicar courteously. + +"I serve the King of France, but have at this time the honour of being +employed by his Majesty the King of England." + +"I trust, sir," observed the Vicar mildly, "that the employment is an +honour." + +"Your loyalty should tell you so much." + +"We are commanded to honour the King, but I read nowhere that we must +honour all that the King does." + +"Such distinctions, sir, lead to disaffection and even to rebellion," +said Fontelles severely. + +"I am very glad of it," remarked the Vicar complacently. + +I had told my old friend nothing of what concerned Barbara; the secret +was not mine; therefore he had nothing against M. de Fontelles; yet it +seemed as though a good quarrel could be found on the score of general +principles. It is strange how many men give their heads for them and how +few can give a reason; but God provides every man with a head, and since +the stock of brains will not supply all, we draw lots for a share in it. +Yes, a pretty quarrel promised; but a moment later Fontelles, seeing no +prospect of sport in falling out with an old man of sacred profession, +and amused, in spite of his principles, by the Vicar's whimsical talk, +chose to laugh rather than to storm, and said with a chuckle: + +"Well, kings are like other men." + +"Very like," agreed the Vicar. "In what can I serve you, sir?" + +"I seek Mr Simon Dale," answered Fontelles. + +"Ah, Simon! Poor Simon! What would you with the lad, sir?" + +"I will tell that to him. Why do you call him poor?" + +"He has been deluded by a high-sounding prophecy, and it has come to +little." The Vicar shook his head in gentle regret. + +"He is no worse off, sir, than a man who marries," said Fontelles with a +smile. + +"Nor, it may be, than one who is born," said the Vicar, sighing. + +"Nor even than one who dies," hazarded the Frenchman. + +"Sir, sir, let us not be irreligious," implored the Vicar, smiling. + +The quarrel was most certainly over. Fontelles sat down by the Vicar's +side. + +"Yet, sir," said he, "God made the world." + +"It is full as good a world as we deserve," said the Vicar. + +"He might well have made us better, sir." + +"There are very few of us who truly wish it," the Vicar replied. "A man +hugs his sin." + +"The embrace, sir, is often delightful." + +"I must not understand you," said the Vicar. + +Fontelles' business was proceeding but slowly. A man on an errand should +not allow himself to talk about the universe. But he was recalled to his +task a moment later by the sight of my figure a quarter of a mile away +along the road. With an eager exclamation he pointed his finger at me, +lifted his hat to the Vicar, and rushed off in pursuit. The Vicar, who +had not taken his thumb from his page, opened his book again, observing +to himself, "A gentleman of some parts, I think." + +His quarrel with the Vicar had evaporated in the mists of speculation; +Fontelles had no mind to lose his complaint against me in any such +manner, but he was a man of ceremony and must needs begin again with me +much as he had with the Vicar. Thus obtaining my opportunity, I cut +across his preface, saying brusquely: + +"Well, I am glad that it is the King's employment and not M. de +Perrencourt's." + +He flushed red. + +"We know what we know, sir," said he. "If you have anything to say +against M. de Perrencourt, consider me as his friend. Did you cry out to +me as I rode last night?" + +"Why, yes, and I was a fool there. As for M. de Perrencourt----" + +"If you speak of him, speak with respect, sir. You know of whom you +speak." + +"Very well. Yet I have held a pistol to his head," said I, not, I +confess, without natural pride. + +Fontelles started, then laughed scornfully. + +"When he and Mistress Quinton and I were in a boat together," I pursued. +"The quarrel then was which of us should escort the lady, he or I, and +whether to Calais or to England. And although I should have been her +husband had we gone to Calais, yet I brought her here." + +"You're pleased to talk in riddles." + +"They're no harder to understand than your errand is to me, sir," I +retorted. + +He mastered his anger with a strong effort, and in a few words told me +his errand, adding that by Carford's advice he came to me. + +"For I am told, sir, that you have some power with the lady." + +I looked full and intently in his face. He met my gaze unflinchingly. +There was a green bank by the roadside; I seated myself; he would not +sit, but stood opposite to me. + +"I will tell you, sir, the nature of the errand on which you come," said +I, and started on the task with all the plainness of language that the +matter required and my temper enjoyed. + +He heard me without a word, with hardly a movement of his body; his eyes +never left mine all the while I was speaking. I think there was a +sympathy between us, so that soon I knew that he was honest, while he +did not doubt my truth. His face grew hard and stern as he listened; he +perceived now the part he had been set to play. He asked me but one +question when I had ended: + +"My Lord Carford knew all this?" + +"Yes, all of it," said I. "He was privy to all that passed." + +Engaged in talk, we had not noticed the Vicar's approach. He was at my +elbow before I saw him; the large book was under his arm. Fontelles +turned to him with a bow. + +"Sir," said he, "you were right just now." + +"Concerning the prophecy, sir?" + +"No, concerning the employment of kings," answered M. de Fontelles. Then +he said to me, "We will meet again, before I take my leave of your +village." With this he set off at a round pace down the road. I did not +doubt that he went to seek Mistress Barbara and ask her pardon. I let +him go; he would not hurt her now. I rose myself from the green bank, +for I also had work to do. + +"Will you walk with me, Simon?" asked the Vicar. + +"Your pardon, sir, but I am occupied." + +"Will it not wait?" + +"I do not desire that it should." + +For now that Fontelles was out of the way, Carford alone remained. +Barbara had not sent for me, but still I served her, and to some profit. + +It was now afternoon and I set out at once on my way to the Manor. I did +not know what had passed between Barbara and Carford, nor how his +passion had been stirred by her avowal of love for me, but I conjectured +that on learning how his plan of embroiling me with Fontelles had +failed, he would lose no time in making another effort. + +Fontelles must have walked briskly, for I, although I did not loiter on +the road, never came in sight of him, and the long avenue was empty when +I passed the gates. It is strange that it did not occur to my mind that +the clue to the Frenchman's haste was to be found in his last question; +no doubt he would make his excuses to Mistress Quinton in good time, but +it was not that intention which lent his feet wings. His errand was the +same as my own; he sought Carford, not Barbara, even as I. He found what +he sought, I what I did not seek, but what, once found, I could not pass +by. + +She was walking near the avenue, but on the grass behind the trees. I +caught a glimpse of her gown through the leaves and my quick steps were +stayed as though by one of the potent spells that the Vicar loved to +read about. For a moment or two I stood there motionless; then I turned +and walked slowly towards her. She saw me a few yards off, and it seemed +as though she would fly. But in the end she faced me proudly; her eyes +were very sad and I thought that she had been weeping; as I approached +she thrust something--it looked like a letter--into the bosom of her +gown, as if in terror lest I should see it. I made her a low bow. + +"I trust, madame," said I, "that my lady mends?" + +"I thank you, yes, although slowly." + +"And that you have taken no harm from your journey?" + +"I thank you, none." + +It was strange, but there seemed no other topic in earth or heaven; for +I looked first at earth and then at heaven, and in neither place found +any. + +"I am seeking my Lord Carford," I said at last. + +I knew my error as soon as I had spoken. She would bid me seek Carford +without delay and protest that the last thing in her mind was to detain +me. I cursed myself for an awkward fool. But to my amazement she did +nothing of what I looked for, but cried out in great agitation and, as +it seemed, fear: + +"You mustn't see Lord Carford." + +"Why not?" I asked. "He won't hurt me." Or at least he should not, if my +sword could stop his. + +"It is not that. It is--it is not that," she murmured, and flushed red. + +"Well, then, I will seek him." + +"No, no, no," cried Barbara in a passion that fear--surely it was that +and nothing else--made imperious. I could not understand her, for I knew +nothing of the confession which she had made, but would not for the +world should reach my ears. Yet it was not very likely that Carford +would tell me, unless his rage carried him away. + +"You are not so kind as to shield me from Lord Carford's wrath?" I asked +rather scornfully. + +"No," she said, persistently refusing to meet my eyes. + +"What is he doing here?" I asked. + +"He desires to conduct me to my father." + +"My God, you won't go with him?" + +For the fraction of a moment her dark eyes met mine, then turned away in +confusion. + +"I mean," said I, "is it wise to go with him?" + +"Of course you meant that," murmured Barbara. + +"M. de Fontelles will trouble you no more," I remarked, in a tone as +calm as though I stated the price of wheat; indeed much calmer than +such a vital matter was wont to command at our village inn. + +"What?" she cried. "He will not----?" + +"He didn't know the truth. I have told him. He is an honourable +gentleman." + +"You've done that also, Simon?" She came a step nearer me. + +"It was nothing to do," said I. Barbara fell back again. + +"Yet I am obliged to you," said she. I bowed with careful courtesy. + +Why tell these silly things. Every man has such in his life. Yet each +counts his own memory a rare treasure, and it will not be denied +utterance. + +"I had best seek my Lord Carford," said I, more for lack of another +thing to say than because there was need to say that. + +"I pray you----" cried Barbara, again in a marked agitation. + +It was a fair soft evening; a breeze stirred the tree-tops, and I could +scarce tell when the wind whispered and when Barbara spoke, so like were +the caressing sounds. She was very different from the lady of our +journey, yet like to her who had for a moment spoken to me from her +chamber-door at Canterbury. + +"You haven't sent for me," I said, in a low voice. "I suppose you have +no need of me?" + +She made me no answer. + +"Why did you fling my guinea in the sea?" I said, and paused. + +"Why did you use me so on the way?" I asked. + +"Why haven't you sent for me?" I whispered. + +She seemed to have no answer for any of these questions. There was +nothing in her eyes now save the desire of escape. Yet she did not +dismiss me, and without dismissal I would not go. I had forgotten +Carford and the angry Frenchman, my quarrel and her peril; the questions +I had put to her summed up all life now held. + +Suddenly she put her hand to her bosom, and drew out that same piece of +paper which I had seen her hide there. Before my eyes she read, or +seemed to read, something that was in it; then she shut her hand on it. +In a moment I was by her, very close. I looked full in her eyes, and +they fled behind covering lids; the little hand, tightly clenched, hung +by her side. What had I to lose? Was I not already banned for +forwardness? I would be forward still, and justify the sentence by an +after-crime. I took the hanging hand in both of mine. She started, and I +loosed it; but no rebuke came, and she did not fly. The far-off stir of +coming victory moved in my blood; not yet to win, but now to know that +win you will sends through a man an exultation, more sweet because it is +still timid. I watched her face--it was very pale--and again took her +hand. The lids of her eyes rose now an instant, and disclosed entreaty. +I was ruthless; our hearts are strange, and cruelty or the desire of +mastery mingled with love in my tightened grasp. One by one I bent her +fingers back; the crushed paper lay in a palm that was streaked to red +and white. With one hand still I held hers, with the other I spread out +the paper. "You mustn't read it," she murmured. "Oh, you mustn't read +it." I paid no heed, but held it up. A low exclamation of wonder broke +from me. The scrawl that I had seen at Canterbury now met me again, +plain and unmistakable in its laborious awkwardness. "In pay for your +dagger," it had said before. Were five words the bounds of Nell's +accomplishment? She had written no more now. Yet before she had seemed +to say much in that narrow limit; and much she said now. + +There was long silence between us; my eyes were intent on her veiled +eyes. + +"You needed this to tell you?" I said at last. + +"You loved her, Simon." + +I would not allow the plea. Shall not a thing that has become out of all +reason to a man's own self thereby blazon its absurdity to the whole +world? + +"So long ago!" I cried scornfully. + +"Nay, not so long ago," she murmured, with a note of resentment in her +voice. + +Even then we might have fallen out; we were in an ace of it, for I most +brutally put this question: + +"You waited here for me to pass?" + +I would have given my ears not to have said it; what availed that? A +thing said is a thing done, and stands for ever amid the irrevocable. +For an instant her eyes flashed in anger; then she flushed suddenly, her +lips trembled, her eyes grew dim, yet through the dimness mirth peeped +out. + +"I dared not hope you'd pass," she whispered. + +"I am the greatest villain in the world!" I cried. "Barbara, you had no +thought that I should pass!" + +Again came silence. Then I spoke, and softly: + +"And you--is it long since you----?" + +She held out her hands towards me, and in an instant was in my arms. +First she hid her face, but then drew herself back as far as the circle +of my arm allowed. Her dark eyes met mine full and direct in a +confession that shamed me but shamed her no more; her shame was +swallowed in the sweet pride of surrender. + +"Always," said she, "always; from the first through all; always, +always." It seemed that though she could not speak that word enough. + +In truth I could scarcely believe it; save when I looked in her eyes, I +could not believe it. + +"But I wouldn't tell you," she said. "I swore you should never know. +Simon, do you remember how you left me?" + +It seemed that I must play penitent now. + +"I was too young to know----" I began. + +"I was younger and not too young," she cried. "And all through those +days at Dover I didn't know. And when we were together I didn't know. +Ah, Simon, when I flung your guinea in the sea, you must have known!" + +"On my faith, no," I laughed. "I didn't see the love in that, +sweetheart." + +"I'm glad there was no woman there to tell you what it meant," said +Barbara. "And even at Canterbury I didn't know. Simon, what brought you +to my door that night?" + +I answered her plainly, more plainly than I could at any other time, +more plainly, it may be, than even then I should: + +"She bade me follow her, and I followed her so far." + +"You followed her?" + +"Ay. But I heard your voice through the door, and stopped." + +"You stopped for my voice; what did I say?" + +"You sung how a lover had forsaken his love. And I heard and stayed." + +"Ah, why didn't you tell me then?" + +"I was afraid, sweetheart." + +"Of what? Of what?" + +"Why, of you. You had been so cruel." + +Barbara's head, still strained far as could be from mine, now drew +nearer by an ace, and then she launched at me the charge of most +enormity, the indictment that justified all my punishment. + +"You had kissed her before my eyes, here, sir, where we are now, in my +own Manor Park," said Barbara. + +I took my arms from about her, and fell humbly on my knee. + +"May I kiss so much as your hand?" said I in utter abasement. + +She put it suddenly, eagerly, hurriedly to my lips. + +"Why did she write to me?" she whispered. + +"Nay, love, I don't know." + +"But I know. Simon, she loves you." + +"It would afford no reason if she did. And I think----" + +"It would and she does. Simon, of course she does." + +"I think rather that she was sorry for----" + +"Not for me!" cried Barbara with great vehemence. "I will not have her +sorry for me!" + +"For you!" I exclaimed in ridicule. (It does not matter what I had been +about to say before.) "For you! How should she? She wouldn't dare!" + +"No," said Barbara. One syllable can hold a world of meaning. + +"A thousand times, no!" cried I. + +The matter was thus decided. Yet now, in quiet blood and in the secrecy +of my own soul, shall I ask wherefore the letter came from Mistress +Gwyn, to whom the shortest letter was no light matter, and to let even +a humble man go some small sacrifice? And why did it come to Barbara and +not to me? And why did it not say "Simon, she loves you," rather than +the words that I now read, Barbara permitting me: "Pretty fool, he loves +you." Let me not ask; not even now would Barbara bear to think that it +was written in pity for her. + +"Yes, she pitied you and so she wrote; and she loves you," said Barbara. + +I let it pass. Shall a man never learn wisdom? + +"Tell me now," said I, "why I may not see Carford?" + +Her lips curved in a smile; she held her head high, and her eyes were +triumphant. + +"You may see Lord Carford as soon as you will, Simon," said she. + +"But a few minutes ago----" I began, much puzzled. + +"A few minutes!" cried Barbara reproachfully. + +"A whole lifetime ago, sweetheart!" + +"And shall that make no changes?" + +"A whole lifetime ago you were ready to die sooner than let me see him." + +"Simon, you're very----He knew, I told him." + +"You told him?" I cried. "Before you told me?" + +"He asked me before," said Barbara. + +I did not grudge her that retort; every jot of her joy was joy to me, +and her triumph my delight. + +"How did I dare to tell him?" she asked herself softly. "Ah, but how +have I contrived not to tell all the world? How wasn't it plain in my +face?" + +"It was most profoundly hidden," I assured her. Indeed from me it had +been; but Barbara's wit had yet another answer. + +"You were looking in another face," said she. Then, as the movement of +my hands protested, remorse seized on her, and catching my hand she +cried impulsively, "I'll never speak of it again, Simon." + +Now I was not so much ashamed of the affair as to demand that utter +silence on it; in which point lies a difference between men and women. +To have wandered troubles our consciences little, when we have come to +the right path again; their pride stands so strong in constancy as +sometimes (I speak in trembling) even to beget an oblivion of its +falterings and make what could not have been as if it had not. But now +was not the moment for excuse, and I took my pardon with all gratitude +and with full allowance of my offence's enormity. + +Then we determined that Carford must immediately be sought, and set out +for the house with intent to find him. But our progress was very slow, +and the moon rose in the skies before we stepped out on to the avenue +and came in sight of the house and the terrace. There was so much to +tell, so much that had to slough off its old seeming and take on new and +radiant apparel--things that she had understood and not I, that I had +caught and she missed, wherein both of us had gone astray most +lamentably and now stood aghast at our own sightlessness. Therefore +never were our feet fairly in movement towards the house but a +sudden--"Do you remember?" gave them pause again: then came shame that I +had forgotten, or indignation that Barbara should be thought to have +forgotten, and in both of these cases the need for expiation, and so +forth. The moon was high in heaven when we stepped into the avenue and +came in sight of the terrace. + +On the instant, with a low cry of surprise and alarm, Barbara caught me +by the arm, while she pointed to the terrace. The sight might well turn +us even from our engrossing interchange of memories. There were four men +on the terrace, their figures standing out dense and black against the +old grey walls, which seemed white in the moonlight. Two stood impassive +and motionless, with hands at their sides; at their feet lay what seemed +bundles of clothes. The other two were in their shirts; they were +opposite one another, and their swords were in their hands. I could not +doubt the meaning; while love held me idle, anger had lent Fontelles +speed; while I sought to perfect my joy, he had been hot to avenge his +wounded honour. I did not know who were the two that watched unless they +were servants; Fontelles' fierce mood would not stand for the niceties +of etiquette. Now I could recognise the Frenchman's bearing and even see +Carford's face, although distance hid its expression. I was amazed and +at a loss what to do. How could I stop them and by what right? But then +Barbara gave a little sob and whispered: + +"My mother lies sick in the house." + +It was enough to loose my bound limbs. I sprang forward and set out at a +run. I had not far to go and lost no time; but I would not cry out lest +I might put one off his guard and yet not arrest the other's stroke. For +the steel flashed, and they fought, under the eyes of the quiet +servants. I was near to them now and already wondering how best to +interpose, when, in an instant, the Frenchman lunged, Carford cried out, +his sword dropped from his hand, and he fell heavily on the gravel of +the terrace. The servants rushed forward and knelt down beside him. M. +de Fontelles did not leave his place, but stood, with the point of his +naked sword on the ground, looking at the man who had put an affront on +him and whom he had now chastised. The sudden change that took me from +love's pastimes to a scene so stern deprived me of speech for a moment. +I ran to Fontelles and faced him, panting but saying nothing. He turned +his eyes on me: they were calm, but shone still with the heat of contest +and the sternness of resentment. He raised his sword and pointed with it +towards where Carford lay. + +"My lord there," said he, "knew a thing that hurt my honour, and did not +warn me of it. He knew that I was made a tool and did not tell me. He +knew that I was used for base purposes and sought to use me for his own +also. He has his recompense." + +Then he stepped across to where the green bank sloped down to the +terrace and, falling on one knee, wiped his blade on the grass. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIV + +A COMEDY BEFORE THE KING + + +On the next day but one M. de Fontelles and I took the road for London +together. Carford lay between life and death (for the point had pierced +his lung) at the inn to which we had carried him; he could do no more +harm and occasion us no uneasiness. On the other hand, M. de Fontelles +was anxious to seek out the French Ambassador, with whom he was on +friendly terms, and enlist his interest, first to excuse the abandonment +of his mission, and in the second place to explain the circumstances of +his duel with Carford. In this latter task he asked my aid since I +alone, saving the servants, had been a witness of the encounter, and +Fontelles, recognising (now that his rage was past) that he had been +wrong to force his opponent to a meeting under such conditions, prayed +my testimony to vindicate his reputation. I could not deny him, and +moreover, though it grieved me to be absent from Quinton Manor, I felt +that Barbara's interests and my own might be well served by a journey to +London. No news had come from my lord, and I was eager to see him and +bring him over to my side; the disposition of the King was also a matter +of moment and of uncertainty; would he still seek to gain for M. de +Perrencourt what that exacting gentleman required, or would he now +abandon the struggle in which his instruments had twice failed him? His +Majesty should now be returning from Dover, and I made up my mind to go +to Court and learn from him the worst and the best of what I might look +for. Nay, I will not say that the pure desire to see him face to face +had not weight with me; for I believed that he had a liking for me, and +that I should obtain from him better terms in my own person than if my +cause were left in the hands of those who surrounded him. + +When we were come to London (and I pray that it be observed and set down +to my credit that, thinking there was enough of love-making in this +history, I have spared any narrative of my farewell to Barbara, although +on my soul it was most moving) M. de Fontelles at once sought the +Ambassador's, taking my promise to come there as soon as his summons +called, while I betook myself to the lodging which I had shared with +Darrell before we went to Dover. I hoped to find him there and renew our +friendship; my grudge was for his masters, and I am not for making an +enemy of a man who does what his service demands of him. I was not +disappointed; Robert opened the door to me, and Darrell himself sprang +to his feet in amazement at the sound of my name. I laughed heartily +and flung myself into a chair, saying: + +"How goes the Treaty of Dover?" + +He ran to the door and tried it; it was close-shut. + +"The less you say of that, the safer you'll be," said he. + +"Oho," thought I, "then I'm not going to market empty-handed! If I want +to buy, it seems that I have something to sell." And smiling very +good-humouredly I said: + +"What, is there a secret in it?" + +Darrell came up to me and held out his hand. + +"On my life," said he, "I didn't know you were interested in the lady, +Simon, or I wouldn't have taken a hand in the affair." + +"On my life," said I, "I'm obliged to you. What of Mlle. de +Querouaille?" + +"She has returned with Madame." + +"But will return without Madame?" + +"Who knows?" he asked with a smile that he could not smother. + +"God and the King," said I. "What of M. de Perrencourt?" + +"Your tongue's hung so loose, Simon, that one day it'll hang you tight." + +"Enough, enough. What then of Phineas Tate?" + +"He is on board ship on his way to the plantations. He'll find plenty to +preach to there." + +"What? Why, there's never a Papist sent now! He'll mope to death. What +of the Duke of Monmouth?" + +"He has found out Carford." + +"He has? Then he has found out the Secretary also?" + +"There is indeed a distance between his Grace and my lord," Darrell +admitted. + +"When rogues fall out! A fine saying that, Darrell. And what of the +King?" + +"My lord tells me that the King swears he won't sleep o' nights till he +has laid a certain troublesome fellow by the heels." + +"And where is that same troublesome fellow?" + +"So near me that, did I serve the King as I ought, Robert would now be +on his way with news for my Lord Arlington." + +"Then His Majesty's sentiments are mighty unkind towards me? Be at +peace, Darrell. I am come to London to seek him." + +"To seek him? Are you mad? You'll follow Phineas Tate!" + +"But I have a boon to ask of the King. I desire him to use his good +offices with my Lord Quinton. For I am hardly a fit match for my lord's +daughter, and yet I would make her my wife." + +"I wonder," observed Darrell, "that you, Simon, who, being a heretic, +must go to hell when you die, are not more careful of your life." + +Then we both fell to laughing. + +"Another thing brings me to London," I pursued. "I must see Mistress +Gwyn." + +He raised his hands over his head. + +"Fill up the measure," said he. "The King knows you came to London with +her and is more enraged at that than all the rest." + +"Does he know what happened on the journey?" + +"Why, no, Simon," smiled Darrell. "The matter is just that. The King +does not know what happened on the journey." + +"He must learn it," I declared. "To-morrow I'll seek Mistress Gwyn. You +shall send Robert to take her pleasure as to the hour when I shall wait +on her." + +"She's in a fury with the King, as he with her." + +"On what account?" + +"Already, friend Simon, you're too wise." + +"By Heaven, I know! It's because Mlle. de Querouaille is so good a +Catholic?" + +Darrell had no denial ready. He shrugged his shoulders and sat silent. + +Now although I had told Barbara that it was my intention to ask an +audience from the King, I had not disclosed my purpose of seeing +Mistress Nell. Yet it was firm in my mind--for courtesy's sake. Of a +truth she had done me great service. Was I to take it as though it were +my right, with never a word of thanks? Curiosity also drew me, and that +attraction which she never lost for me, nor, as I believe, for any man +whose path she crossed. I was sure of myself, and did not fear to go. +Yet memory was not dead in me, and I went in a species of excitement, +the ghost of old feelings dead but not forgotten. When a man has loved, +and sees her whom he loves no more, he will not be indifferent; angry he +may be, or scornful, amused he may be, and he should be tender; but it +will not be as though he had not loved. Yet I had put a terrible affront +on her, and it might be that she would not receive me. + +As I live, I believe that but for one thing she would not. That turned +her, by its appeal to her humour. When I came to the house in Chelsea, I +was conducted into a small ante-chamber, and there waited long. There +were voices speaking in the next room, but I could not hear their +speech. Yet I knew Nell's voice; it had for me always--ay, still--echoes +of the past. But now there was something which barred its way to my +heart. + +The door in front of me opened, and she was in the room with me. There +she was, curtseying low in mock obeisance and smiling whimsically. + +"A bold man!" she cried. "What brings you here? Art not afraid?" + +"Afraid that I am not welcome, yet not afraid to come." + +"A taunt wrapped in civility! I do not love it." + +"Mistress Nell, I came to thank you for the greatest kindness----" + +"If it be kindness to help you to a fool!" said Mistress Nell. "What, +besides your thanks to me, brings you to town?" + +I must forgive her the style in which she spoke of Barbara. I answered +with a smile: + +"I must see the King. I don't know his purposes about me. Besides, I +desire that he should help me to my--fool." + +"If you're wise you'll keep out of his sight." Then she began to laugh. +"Nay, but I don't know," said she. Then with a swift movement she was by +me, catching at my coat and turning up to me a face full of merriment. +"Shall we play a comedy?" she asked. + +"As you will. What shall be my part?" + +"I'll give you a pretty part, Simon. Your face is very smooth; nay, do +not fear, I remember so well that I needn't try again. You shall be this +French lady of whom they speak." + +"I the French lady! God forbid!" + +"Nay, but you shall, Simon. And I'll be the King. Nay, I say, don't be +afraid. I swear you tried to run away then!" + +"Is it not prescribed as the best cure for temptation?" + +"Alas, you're not tempted!" she said with a pout. "But there's another +part in the comedy." + +"Besides the King and Mademoiselle?" + +"Why, yes--and a great part." + +"Myself by chance?" + +"You! No! What should you do in the play? It is I--I myself." + +"True, true. I forgot you, Mistress Nell." + +"You did forget me, Simon. But I must spare you, for you will have heard +that same charge of fickleness from Mistress Quinton, and it is hard to +hear it from two at once. But who shall play my part?" + +"Indeed I can think of none equal to it." + +"The King shall play it!" she cried with a triumphant laugh, and stood +opposite to me, the embodiment of merry triumph. "Do you catch the plot +of my piece, Simon?" + +"I am very dull," I confessed. + +"It's your condition, not your nature, Simon," Nell was so good as to +say. "A man in love is always dull, save to one woman, and she's +stark-mad. Come, can you feign an inclination for me, or have you forgot +the trick?" + +At the moment she spoke the handle of the door turned. Again it turned +and was rattled. + +"I locked it," whispered Nell, her eyes full of mischief. + +Again, and most impatiently, the handle was twisted to and fro. + +"Pat, pat, how pat he comes!" she whispered. + +A last loud rattle followed, then a voice cried in anger, "Open it, I +bid you open it." + +"God help us!" I exclaimed in sad perplexity. "It's the King?" + +"Yes, it's the King, and, Simon, the piece begins. Look as terrified as +you can. It's the King." + +"Open, I say, open!" cried the King, with a thundering knock. + +I understood now that he had been in the other room, and that she had +left his society to come to me; but I understood only dimly why she had +locked the door, and why she now was so slow in opening it. Yet I set my +wits to work, and for further aid watched her closely. She was worth the +watching. Without aid of paints or powders, of scene or theatre, she +transformed her air, her manner, ay, her face also. Alarm and terror +showed in her eyes as she stole in fearful fashion across the room, +unlocked the door, and drew it open, herself standing by it, stiff and +rigid, in what seemed shame or consternation. The agitation she feigned +found some reality in me. I was not ready for the thing, although I had +been warned by the voice outside. When the King stood in the doorway, I +wished myself a thousand miles away. + +The King was silent for several moments; he seemed to me to repress a +passion which, let loose, might hurry him to violence. When he spoke, he +was smiling ironically, and his voice was calm. + +"How comes this gentleman here?" he asked. + +The terror that Nell had so artfully assumed she appeared now, with +equal art, to defy or conquer. She answered him with angry composure. + +"Why shouldn't Mr. Dale be here, Sir?" she asked. "Am I to see no +friends? Am I to live all alone?" + +"Mr Dale is no friend of mine----" + +"Sir----" I began, but his raised hand stayed me. + +"And you have no need of friends when I am here." + +"Your Majesty," said she, "came to say farewell; Mr Dale was but half an +hour too soon." + +This answer showed me the game. If he had come to bid her farewell--why, +I understood now the parts in the comedy. If he left her for the +Frenchwoman, why should she not turn to Simon Dale? The King bit his +lip. He also understood her answer. + +"You lose no time, mistress," he said, with an uneasy laugh. + +"I've lost too much already," she flashed back. + +"With me?" he asked, and was answered by a sweeping curtsey and a +scornful smile. + +"You're a bold man, Mr Dale," said he. "I knew it before, and am now +most convinced of it." + +"I didn't expect to meet your Majesty here," said I sincerely. + +"I don't mean that. You're bold to come here at all." + +"Mistress Gwyn is very kind to me," said I. I would play my part and +would not fail her, and I directed a timid yet amorous glance at Nell. +The glance reached Nell, but on its way it struck the King. He was +patient of rivals, they said, but he frowned now and muttered an oath. +Nell broke into sudden laughter. It sounded forced and unreal. It was +meant so to sound. + +"We're old friends," said she, "Simon and I. We were friends before I +was what I am. We're still friends, now that I am what I am. Mr Dale +escorted me from Dover to London." + +"He is an attentive squire," sneered the King. + +"He hardly left my side," said Nell. + +"You were hampered with a companion?" + +"Of a truth I hardly noticed it," cried Nelly with magnificent +falsehood. I seconded her efforts with a shrug and a cunning smile. + +"I begin to understand," said the King. "And when my farewell has been +said, what then?" + +"I thought that it had been said half an hour ago," she exclaimed. +"Wasn't it?" + +"You were anxious to hear it, and so seemed to hear it," said he +uneasily. + +She turned to me with a grave face and tender eyes. + +"Didn't I tell you here, just now, how the King parted from me?" + +I was to take the stage now, it seemed. + +"Ay, you told me," said I, playing the agitated lover as best I could. +"You told me that--that--but I cannot speak before His Majesty." And I +ended in a most rare confusion. + +"Speak, sir," he commanded harshly and curtly. + +"You told me," said I in low tones, "that the King left you. And I said +I was no King, but that you need not be left alone." My eyes fell to the +ground in pretended fear. + +The swiftest glance from Nell applauded me. I would have been sorry for +him and ashamed for myself, had I not remembered M. de Perrencourt and +our voyage to Calais. In that thought I steeled myself to hardness and +bade conscience be still. + +A long silence followed. Then the King drew near to Nell. With a rare +stroke of skill she seemed to shrink away from him and edged towards me, +as though she would take refuge in my arms from his anger or his +coldness. + +"Come, I've never hurt you, Nelly!" said he. + +Alas, that art should outstrip nature! Never have I seen portrayed so +finely the resentment of a love that, however greatly wounded, is still +love, that even in turning away longs to turn back, that calls even in +forbidding, and in refusing breathes the longing to assent. Her feet +still came towards me, but her eyes were on the King. + +"You sent me away," she whispered as she moved towards me and looked +where the King was. + +"I was in a temper," said he. Then he turned to me, saying "Pray leave +us, sir." + +I take it that I must have obeyed, but Nell sprang suddenly forward, +caught my hand, and holding it faced the King. + +"He shan't go; or, if you send him away, I'll go with him." + +The King frowned heavily, but did not speak. She went on, choking down a +sob--ay, a true sob; the part she played moved her, and beneath her +acting there was a reality. She fought for her power over him and now +was the test of it. + +"Will you take my friendships from me as well as my----? Oh, I won't +endure it!" + +She had given him his hint in the midst of what seemed her greatest +wrath. His frown persisted, but a smile bent his lips again. + +"Mr Dale," said he, "it is hard to reason with a lady before another +gentleman. I was wrong to bid you go. But will you suffer me to retire +to that room again?" + +I bowed low. + +"And," he went on, "will you excuse our hostess' presence for awhile?" + +I bowed again. + +"No, I won't go with you," cried Nell. + +"Nay, but, Nelly, you will," said he, smiling now. "Come, I'm old and +mighty ugly, and Mr Dale is a strapping fellow. You must be kind to the +unfortunate, Nelly." + +She was holding my hand still. The King took hers. Very slowly and +reluctantly she let him draw her away. I did what seemed best to do; I +sighed very heavily and plaintively, and bowed in sad submission. + +"Wait till we return," said the King, and his tone was kind. + +They passed out together, and I, laughing yet ashamed to laugh, flung +myself in a chair. She would not keep him for herself alone; nay, as all +the world knows, she made but a drawn battle of it with the Frenchwoman; +but the disaster and utter defeat which had threatened her she had +averted, jealousy had achieved what love could not, he would not let her +go now, when another's arms seemed open for her. To this success I had +helped her. On my life I was glad to have helped her. But I did not yet +see how I had helped my own cause. + +I was long in the room alone, and though the King had bidden me await +his return, he did not come again. Nell came alone, laughing, radiant +and triumphant; she caught me by both hands, and swiftly, suddenly, +before I knew, kissed me on the cheek. Nay, come, let me be honest; I +knew a short moment before, but on my honour I could not avoid it +courteously. + +"We've won," she cried. "I have what I desire, and you, Simon, are to +seek him at Whitehall. He has forgiven you all your sins and--yes, he'll +give you what favour you ask. He has pledged his word to me." + +"Does he know what I shall ask?" + +"No, no, not yet. Oh, that I could see his face! Don't spare him, +Simon. Tell him--why, tell him all the truth--every word of it, the +stark bare truth." + +"How shall I say it?" + +"Why, that you love, and have ever loved, and will ever love Mistress +Barbara Quinton, and that you love not, and will never love, and have +never loved, no, nor cared the price of a straw for Eleanor Gwyn." + +"Is that the whole truth?" said I. + +She was holding my hands still; she pressed them now and sighed lightly. + +"Why, yes, it's the whole truth. Let it be the whole truth, Simon. What +matters that a man once lived when he's dead, or once loved when he +loves no more?" + +"Yet I won't tell him more than is true," said I. + +"You'll be ashamed to say anything else?" she whispered, looking up into +my face. + +"Now, by Heaven, I'm not ashamed," said I, and I kissed her hand. + +"You're not?" + +"No, not a whit. I think I should be ashamed, had my heart never strayed +to you." + +"Ah, but you say 'strayed'!" + +I made her no answer, but asked forgiveness with a smile. She drew her +hand sharply away, crying, + +"Go your ways, Simon Dale, go your ways; go to your Barbara, and your +Hatchstead, and your dulness, and your righteousness." + +"We part in kindness?" I urged. + +For a moment I thought she would answer peevishly, but the mood passed, +and she smiled sincerely on me as she replied: + +"Ay, in all loving-kindness, Simon; and when you hear the sour gird at +me, say--why, say, Simon, that even a severe gentleman, such as you are, +once found some good in Nelly. Will you say that for me?" + +"With all my heart." + +"Nay, I care not what you say," she burst out, laughing again. "Begone, +begone! I swore to the King that I would speak but a dozen words to you. +Begone!" + +I bowed and turned towards the door. She flew to me suddenly, as if to +speak, but hesitated. I waited for her; at last she spoke, with eyes +averted and an unusual embarrassment in her air. + +"If--if you're not ashamed to speak my name to Mistress Barbara, tell +her I wish her well, and pray her to think as kindly of me as she can." + +"She has much cause to think kindly," said I. + +"And will therefore think unkindly! Simon, I bid you begone." + +She held out her hand to me, and I kissed it again. + +"This time we part for good and all," said she. "I've loved you, and +I've hated you, and I have nearly loved you. But it is nothing to be +loved by me, who love all the world." + +"Nay, it's something," said I. "Fare you well." + +I passed out, but turned to find her eyes on me. She was laughing and +nodding her head, swaying to and fro on her feet as her manner was. She +blew me a kiss from her lips. So I went, and my life knew her no more. + +But when the strict rail on sinners, I guard my tongue for the sake of +Nelly and the last kiss she gave me on my cheek. + + + + +CHAPTER XXV + +THE MIND OF M. DE FONTELLES + + +As I made my way through the Court nothing seemed changed; all was as I +had seen it when I came to lay down the commission that Mistress Gwyn +had got me. They were as careless, as merry, as shameless as before; the +talk then had been of Madame's coming, now it was of her going; they +talked of Dover and what had passed there, but the treaty was dismissed +with a shrug, and the one theme of interest, and the one subject of +wagers, was whether or how soon Mlle. de Querouaille would return to the +shores and the monarch she had left. In me distaste now killed +curiosity; I pushed along as fast as the throng allowed me, anxious to +perform my task and be quit of them all as soon as I could. My part +there was behind me; the prophecy was fulfilled, and my ambitions +quenched. Yet I had a pleasure in the remaining scene of the comedy +which I was to play with the King; I was amused also to see how those +whom I knew to be in the confidence of the Duke of York and of Arlington +eyed me with mingled fear and wariness, and hid distrust under a most +deferential civility. They knew, it seemed, that I had guessed their +secrets. But I was not afraid of them, for I was no more their rival in +the field of intrigue or in their assault upon the King's favour. I +longed to say to them, "Be at peace. In an hour from now you will see my +face no more." + +The King sat in his chair, alone save for one gentleman who stood beside +him. I knew the Earl of Rochester well by repute, and had been before +now in the same company, although, as it chanced, I had never yet spoken +with him. I looked for the King's brother and for Monmouth, but neither +was to be seen. Having procured a gentleman to advise the King of my +presence, I was rewarded by being beckoned to approach immediately. But +when he had brought me there, he gave me no more than a smile, and, +motioning me to stand by him, continued his conversation with my Lord +Rochester and his caresses of the little dog on his lap. + +"In defining it as the device by which the weak intimidate the strong," +observed Rochester, "the philosopher declared the purpose of virtue +rather than its effect. For the strong are not intimidated, while the +weak, falling slaves to their own puppet, grow more helpless still." + +"It's a just retribution on them," said the King, "for having invented a +thing so tiresome." + +"In truth, Sir, all these things that make virtue are given a man for +his profit, and that he may not go empty-handed into the mart of the +world. He has stuff for barter; he can give honour for pleasure, +morality for money, religion for power." + +The King raised his brows and smiled again, but made no remark. +Rochester bowed courteously to me, as he added: + +"Is it not as I say, sir?" and awaited my reply. + +"It's better still, my lord," I answered. "For he can make these +bargains you speak of, and, by not keeping them, have his basket still +full for another deal." + +Again the King smiled as he patted his dog. + +"Very just, sir, very just," nodded Rochester. "Thus by breaking a +villainous bargain he is twice a villain, and preserves his reputation +to aid him in the more effectual cheating of his neighbour." + +"And the damning of his own soul," said the King softly. + +"Your Majesty is Defender of the Faith. I will not meddle with your high +office," said Rochester with a laugh. "For my own part I suffer from a +hurtful sincerity; being known for a rogue by all the town, I am become +the most harmless fellow in your Majesty's dominions. As Mr Dale here +says--I have the honour of being acquainted with your name, sir--my +basket is empty and no man will deal with me." + +"There are women left you," said the King. + +"It is more expense than profit," sighed the Earl. "Although indeed the +kind creatures will most readily give for nothing what is worth as +much." + +"So that the sum of the matter," said the King, "is that he who refuses +no bargain however iniquitous and performs none however binding----" + +"Is a king among men, Sir," interposed Rochester with a low bow, "even +as your Majesty is here in Whitehall." + +"And by the same title?" + +"Ay, the same Right Divine. What think you of my reasoning, Mr Dale?" + +"I do not know, my lord, whence you came by it, unless the Devil has +published a tract on the matter." + +"Nay, he has but circulated it among his friends," laughed Rochester. +"For he is in no need of money from the booksellers since he has a grant +from God of the customs of the world for his support." + +"The King must have the Customs," smiled Charles. "I have them here in +England. But the smugglers cheat me." + +"And the penitents him, Sir. Faith, these Holy Churches run queer +cargoes past his officers--or so they say;" and with another bow to the +King, and one of equal courtesy to me, he turned away and mingled in the +crowd that walked to and fro. + +The King sat some while silent, lazily pulling the dog's coat with his +fingers. Then he looked up at me. + +"Wild talk, Mr Dale," said he, "yet perhaps not all without a meaning." + +"There's meaning enough, Sir. It's not that I miss." + +"No, but perhaps you do. I have made many bargains; you don't praise all +of them?" + +"It's not for me to judge the King's actions." + +"I wish every man were as charitable, or as dutiful. But--shall I empty +my basket? You know of some of my bargains. The basket is not emptied +yet." + +I looked full in his face; he did not avoid my regard, but sat there +smiling in a bitter amusement. + +"You are the man of reservations," said he. "I remember them. Be at +peace and hold your place. For listen to me, Mr Dale." + +"I am listening to your Majesty's words." + +"It will be time enough for you to open your mouth when I empty my +basket." + +His words, and even more the tone in which he spoke and the significant +glance of his eyes, declared his meaning. The bargain that I knew of I +need not betray nor denounce till he fulfilled it. When would he fulfil +it? He would not empty his basket, but still have something to give when +he dealt with the King of France. I wondered that he should speak to me +so openly; he knew that I wondered, yet, though his smile was bitter, he +smiled still. + +I bowed to him and answered: + +"I am no talker, Sir, of matters too great for me." + +"That's well. I know you for a gentleman of great discretion, and I +desire to serve you. You have something to ask of me, Mr Dale?" + +"The smallest thing in the world for your Majesty, and the greatest for +me." + +"A pattern then that I wish all requests might follow. Let me hear it." + +"It is no more than your Majesty's favour for my efforts to win the +woman whom I love." + +He started a little, and for the first time in all the conversation +ceased to fondle the little dog. + +"The woman whom you love? Well, sir, and does she love you?" + +"She has told me so, Sir." + +"Then at least she wished you to believe it. Do I know this lady?" + +"Very well, sir," I answered in a very significant tone. + +He was visibly perturbed. A man come to his years will see a ready rival +in every youth, however little other attraction there may be. But +perhaps I had treated him too freely already; and now he used me well. I +would keep up the jest no longer. + +"Once, Sir," I said, "for a while I loved where the King loved, even as +I drank of his cup." + +"I know, Mr Dale. But you say 'once.'" + +"It is gone by, Sir." + +"But, yesterday?" he exclaimed abruptly. + +"She is a great comedian, Sir; but I fear I seconded her efforts badly." + +He did not answer for a moment, but began again to play with the dog. +Then raising his eyes to mine he said: + +"You were well enough; she played divinely, Mr Dale." + +"She played for life, Sir." + +"Ay, poor Nelly loves me," said he softly. "I had been cruel to her. But +I won't weary you with my affairs. What would you?" + +"Mistress Gwyn, Sir, has been very kind to me." + +"So I believe," remarked the King. + +"But my heart, Sir, is now and has been for long irrevocably set on +another." + +"On my faith, Mr Dale, and speaking as one man to another, I'm glad to +hear it. Was it so at Canterbury?" + +"More than ever before, Sir. For she was there and----" + +"I know she was there." + +"Nay, Sir, I mean the other, her whom I love, her whom I now woo. I mean +Mistress Barbara Quinton, Sir." + +The King looked down and frowned; he patted his dog, he looked up again, +frowning still. Then a queer smile bent his lips and he said in a voice +which was most grave, for all his smile, + +"You remember M. de Perrencourt?" + +"I remember M. de Perrencourt very well, Sir." + +"It was by his choice, not mine, Mr Dale, that you set out for Calais." + +"So I understood at the time, Sir." + +"And he is believed, both by himself and others, to choose his +men--perhaps you will allow me to say his instruments, Mr Dale--better +than any Prince in Christendom. So you would wed Mistress Quinton? Well, +sir, she is above your station." + +"I was to have been made her husband, Sir." + +"Nay, but she's above your station," he repeated, smiling at my retort, +but conceiving that it needed no answer. + +"She's not above your Majesty's persuasion, or, rather, her father is +not. She needs none." + +"You do not err in modesty, Mr Dale." + +"How should I, Sir, I who have drunk of the King's cup?" + +"So that we should be friends." + +"And known what the King hid?" + +"So that we must stand or fall together?" + +"And loved where the King loved?" + +He made no answer to that, but sat silent for a great while. I was +conscious that many eyes were on us, in wonder that I was so long with +him, in speculation on what our business might be and whence came the +favour that gained me such distinction. I paid little heed, for I was +seeking to follow the thoughts of the King and hoping that I had won him +to my side. I asked only leave to lead a quiet life with her whom I +loved, setting bounds at once to my ambition and to the plans which he +had made concerning her. Nay, I believe that I might have claimed some +hold over him, but I would not. A gentleman may not levy hush-money +however fair the coins seem in his eyes. Yet I feared that he might +suspect me, and I said: + +"To-day, I leave the town, Sir, whether I have what I ask of you or not; +and whether I have what I ask of you or not I am silent. If your Majesty +will not grant it me, yet, in all things that I may be, I am your loyal +subject." + +To all this--perhaps it rang too solemn, as the words of a young man are +apt to at the moments when his heart is moved--he answered nothing, but +looking up with a whimsical smile said, + +"Tell me now; how do you love this Mistress Quinton?" + +At this I fell suddenly into a fit of shame and bashful embarrassment. +The assurance that I had gained at Court forsook me, and I was +tongue-tied as any calf-lover. + +"I--I don't know," I stammered. + +"Nay, but I grow old. Pray tell me, Mr Dale," he urged, beginning to +laugh at my perturbation. + +For my life I could not; it seems to me that the more a man feels a +thing the harder it is for him to utter; sacred things are secret, and +the hymn must not be heard save by the deity. + +The King suddenly bent forward and beckoned. Rochester was passing by, +with him now was the Duke of Monmouth. They approached; I bowed low to +the Duke, who returned my salute most cavalierly. He had small reason +to be pleased with me, and his brow was puckered. The King seemed to +find fresh amusement in his son's bearing, but he made no remark on it, +and, addressing himself to Rochester, said: + +"Here, my lord, is a young gentleman much enamoured of a lovely and most +chaste maiden. I ask him what this love of his is--for my memory +fails--and behold he cannot tell me! In case he doesn't know what it is +that he feels, I pray you tell him." + +Rochester looked at me with an ironical smile. + +"Am I to tell what love is?" he asked. + +"Ay, with your utmost eloquence," answered the King, laughing still and +pinching his dog's ears. + +Rochester twisted his face in a grimace, and looked appealingly at the +King. + +"There's no escape; to-day I am a tyrant," said the King. + +"Hear then, youths," said Rochester, and his face was smoothed into a +pensive and gentle expression. "Love is madness and the only sanity, +delirium and the only truth; blindness and the only vision, folly and +the only wisdom. It is----" He broke off and cried impatiently, "I have +forgotten what it is." + +"Why, my lord, you never knew what it is," said the King. "Alone of us +here, Mr Dale knows, and since he cannot tell us the knowledge is lost +to the world. James, have you any news of my friend M. de Fontelles?" + +"Such news as your Majesty has," answered Monmouth. "And I hear that my +Lord Carford will not die." + +"Let us be as thankful as is fitting for that," said the King. "M. de +Fontelles sent me a very uncivil message; he is leaving England, and +goes, he tells me, to seek a King whom a gentleman may serve." + +"Is the gentleman about to kill himself, Sir?" asked Rochester with an +affected air of grave concern. + +"He's an insolent rascal," cried Monmouth angrily. "Will he go back to +France?" + +"Why, yes, in the end, when he has tried the rest of my brethren in +Europe. A man's King is like his nose; the nose may not be handsome, +James, but it's small profit to cut it off. That was done once, you +remember----" + +"And here is your Majesty on the throne," interposed Rochester with a +most loyal bow. + +"James," said the King, "our friend Mr Dale desires to wed Mistress +Barbara Quinton." + +Monmouth started violently and turned red. + +"His admiration for that lady," continued the King, "has been shared by +such high and honourable persons that I cannot doubt it to be well +founded. Shall he not then be her husband?" + +Monmouth's eyes were fixed on me; I met his glance with an easy smile. +Again I felt that I, who had worsted M. de Perrencourt, need not fear +the Duke of Monmouth. + +"If there be any man," observed Rochester, "who would love a lady who is +not a wife, and yet is fit to be his wife, let him take her, in Heaven's +name! For he might voyage as far in search of another like her as M. de +Fontelles must in his search for a Perfect King." + +"Shall he not have her, James?" asked the King of his son. + +Monmouth understood that the game was lost. + +"Ay, Sir, let him have her," he answered, mustering a smile. "And I hope +soon to see your Court graced by her presence." + +Well, at that, I, most inadvertently and by an error in demeanour which +I now deplore sincerely, burst into a short sharp laugh. The King turned +to me with raised eye-brows. + +"Pray let us hear the jest, Mr Dale," said he. + +"Why, Sir," I answered, "there is no jest. I don't know why I laughed, +and I pray your pardon humbly." + +"Yet there was something in your mind," the King insisted. + +"Then, Sir, if I must say it, it was no more than this; if I would not +be married in Calais, neither will I be married in Whitehall." + +There was a moment's silence. It was broken by Rochester. + +"I am dull," said he. "I don't understand that observation of Mr +Dale's." + +"That may well be, my lord," said Charles, and he turned to Monmouth, +smiling maliciously as he asked, "Are you as dull as my lord here, +James, or do you understand what Mr Dale would say?" + +Monmouth's mood hung in the balance between anger and amusement. I had +crossed and thwarted his fancy, but it was no more than a fancy. And I +had crossed and thwarted M. de Perrencourt's also; that was balm to his +wounds. I do not know that he could have done me harm, and it was as +much from a pure liking for him as from any fear of his disfavour that I +rejoiced when I saw his kindly thoughts triumph and a smile come on his +lips. + +"Plague take the fellow," said he, "I understand him. On my life he's +wise!" + +I bowed low to him, saying, "I thank your Grace for your understanding." + +Rochester sighed heavily. + +"This is wearisome," said he. "Shall we walk?" + +"You and James shall walk," said the King. "I have yet a word for Mr +Dale." As they went he turned to me and said, "But will you leave us? I +could find work for you here." + +I did not know what to answer him. He saw my hesitation. + +"The basket will not be emptied," said he in a low and cautious voice. +"It will be emptied neither for M. de Perrencourt nor for the King of +France. You look very hard at me, Mr Dale, but you needn't search my +face so closely. I will tell you what you desire to know. I have had my +price, but I do not empty my basket." Having said this, he sat leaning +his head on his hands with his eyes cast up at me from under his swarthy +bushy brows. + +There was a long silence then between us. For myself I do not deny that +youthful ambition again cried to me to take his offer, while pride told +me that even at Whitehall I could guard my honour and all that was mine. +I could serve him; since he told me his secrets, he must and would serve +me. And he had in the end dealt fairly and kindly with me. + +The King struck his right hand on the arm of his chair suddenly and +forcibly. + +"I sit here," said he; "it is my work to sit here. My brother has a +conscience, how long would he sit here? James is a fool, how long would +he sit here? They laugh at me or snarl at me, but here I sit, and here I +will sit till my life's end, by God's grace or the Devil's help. My +gospel is to sit here." + +I had never before seen him so moved, and never had so plain a glimpse +of his heart, nor of the resolve which lay beneath his lightness and +frivolity. Whence came that one unswerving resolution I know not; yet I +do not think that it stood on nothing better than his indolence and a +hatred of going again on his travels. There was more than that in it; +perhaps he seemed to himself to hold a fort and considered all +stratagems and devices well justified against the enemy. I made him no +answer but continued to look at him. His passion passed as quickly as it +had come, and he was smiling again with his ironical smile as he said to +me: + +"But my gospel need not be yours. Our paths have crossed, they need not +run side by side. Come, man, I have spoken to you plainly, speak plainly +to me." He paused, and then, leaning forward, said, + +"Perhaps you are of M. de Fontelles' mind? Will you join him in his +search? Abandon it. You had best go to your home and wait. Heaven may +one day send you what you desire. Answer me, sir. Are you of the +Frenchman's mind?" + +His voice now had the ring of command in it and I could not but answer. +And when I came to answer there was but one thing to say. He had told me +the terms of my service. What was it to me that he sat there, if honour +and the Kingdom's greatness and all that makes a crown worth the wearing +must go, in order to his sitting there? There rose in me at once an +inclination towards him and a loathing for the gospel that he preached; +the last was stronger and, with a bow, I said: + +"Yes, Sir, I am of M. de Fontelles' mind." + +He heard me, lying back in his chair. He said nothing, but sighed +lightly, puckered his brow an instant, and smiled. Then he held out his +hand to me, and I bent and kissed it. + +"Good-bye, Mr Dale," said he. "I don't know how long you'll have to +wait. I'm hale and--so's my brother." + +He moved his hand in dismissal, and, having withdrawn some paces, I +turned and walked away. All observed or seemed to observe me; I heard +whispers that asked who I was, why the King had talked so long to me, +and to what service or high office I was destined. Acquaintances saluted +me and stared in wonder at my careless acknowledgment and the quick +decisive tread that carried me to the door. Now, having made my choice, +I was on fire to be gone; yet once I turned my head and saw the King +sitting still in his chair, his head resting on his hands, and a slight +smile on his lips. He saw me look, and nodded his head. I bowed, turned +again, and was gone. + +Since then I have not seen him, for the paths that crossed diverged +again. But, as all men know, he carried out his gospel. There he sat +till his life's end, whether by God's grace or the Devil's help I know +not. But there he sat, and never did he empty his basket lest, having +given all, he should have nothing to carry to market. It is not for me +to judge him now; but then, when I had the choice set before me, there +in his own palace, I passed my verdict. I do not repent of it. For good +or evil, in wisdom or in folly, in mere honesty or the extravagance of +sentiment, I had made my choice. I was of the mind of M. de Fontelles, +and I went forth to wait till there should be a King whom a gentleman +could serve. Yet to this day I am sorry that he made me tell him of my +choice. + + + + +CHAPTER XXVI + +I COME HOME + + +I have written the foregoing for my children's sake that they may know +that once their father played some part in great affairs, and, rubbing +shoulder to shoulder with folk of high degree, bore himself (as I +venture to hope) without disgrace, and even with that credit which a +ready brain and hand bring to their possessor. Here, then, I might well +come to an end, and deny myself the pleasure of a last few words indited +for my own comfort and to please a greedy recollection. The children, if +they read, will laugh. Have you not seen the mirthful wonder that +spreads on a girl's face when she comes by chance on some relic of her +father's wooing, a faded wreath that he has given her mother, or a +nosegay tied with a ribbon and a poem attached thereto? She will look in +her father's face, and thence to where her mother sits at her +needle-work, just where she has sat at her needle-work these twenty +years, with her old kind smile and comfortable eyes. The girl loves her, +loves her well, but--how came father to write those words? For mother, +though the dearest creature in the world, is not slim, nor dazzling, nor +a Queen, nor is she Venus herself, decked in colours of the rainbow, nor +a Goddess come from heaven to men, nor the desire of all the world, nor +aught else that father calls her in the poem. Indeed, what father wrote +is something akin to what the Squire slipped into her own hand last +night; but it is a strange strain in which to write to mother, the +dearest creature in the world, but no, not Venus in her glory nor the +Queen of the Nymphs. But though the maiden laughs, her father is not +ashamed. He still sees her to whom he wrote, and when she smiles across +the room at him, and smiles again to see her daughter's wonder, all the +years fade from the picture's face, and the vision stands as once it +was, though my young mistress' merry eyes have not the power to see it. +Let her laugh. God forbid that I should grudge it her! Soon enough shall +she sit sewing and another laugh. + +Carford was gone, well-nigh healed of his wound, healed also of his +love, I trust, at least headed off from it. M. de Fontelles was gone +also, on that quest of his which made my Lord Rochester so merry; indeed +I fear that in this case the scoffer had the best of it, for he whom I +have called M. de Perrencourt was certainly served again by his +indignant subject, and that most brilliantly. Well, had I been a +Frenchman, I could have forgiven King Louis much; and I suppose that, +although an Englishman, I do not hate him greatly, since his ring is +often on my wife's finger and I see it there without pain. + +It was the day before my wedding was to take place; for my lord, on +being informed of all that had passed, had sworn roundly that since +there was one honest man who sought his daughter, he would not refuse +her, lest while he waited for better things worse should come. And he +proceeded to pay me many a compliment, which I would repeat, despite of +modesty, if it chanced that I remembered them. But in truth my head was +so full of his daughter that there was no space for his praises, and his +well-turned eulogy (for my lord had a pretty flow of words) was as sadly +wasted as though he had spoken it to the statue of Apollo on his +terrace. + +I had been taking dinner with the Vicar, and, since it was not yet time +to pay my evening visit to the Manor, I sat with him a while after our +meal, telling him for his entertainment how I had talked with the King +at Whitehall, what the King had said, and what I, and how my Lord +Rochester had talked finely of the Devil, and tried, but failed, to talk +of love. He drank in all with eager ears, weighing the wit in a balance, +and striving to see, through my recollection, the life and the scene and +the men that were so strange to his eyes and so familiar to his dreams. + +"You don't appear very indignant, sir," I ventured to observe with a +smile. + +We were in the porch, and, for answer to what I said, he pointed to the +path in front of us. Following the direction of his finger I perceived a +fly of a species with which I, who am a poor student of nature, was not +familiar. It was villainously ugly, although here and there on it were +patches of bright colour. + +"Yet," said the Vicar, "you are not indignant with it, Simon." + +"No, I am not indignant," I admitted. + +"But if it were to crawl over you----" + +"I should crush the brute," I cried. + +"Yes. They have crawled over you and you are indignant. They have not +crawled over me, and I am curious." + +"But, sir, will you allow a man no disinterested moral emotion?" + +"As much as he will, and he shall be cool at the end of it," smiled the +Vicar. "Now if they took my benefice from me again!" Stooping down, he +picked up the creature in his hand and fell to examining it very +minutely. + +"I wonder you can touch it," said I in disgust. + +"You did not quit the Court without some regret, Simon," he reminded me. + +I could make nothing of him in this mood and was about to leave him when +I perceived my lord and Barbara approaching the house. Springing up, I +ran to meet them; they received me with a grave air, and in the ready +apprehension of evil born of a happiness that seems too great I cried +out to know if there were bad tidings. + +"There's nothing that touches us nearly," said my lord. "But very +pitiful news is come from France." + +The Vicar had followed me and now stood by me; I looked up and saw that +the ugly creature was still in his hand. + +"It concerns Madame, Simon," said Barbara. "She is dead and all the town +declares that she had poison given to her in a cup of chicory-water. Is +it not pitiful?" + +Indeed the tidings came as a shock to me, for I remembered the winning +grace and wit of the unhappy lady. + +"But who has done it?" I cried. + +"I don't know," said my lord. "It is set down to her husband; rightly or +wrongly, who knows?" + +A silence ensued for a few moments. The Vicar stooped and set his +captive free to crawl away on the path. + +"God has crushed one of them, Simon," said he. "Are you content?" + +"I try not to believe it of her," said I. + +In a grave mood we began to walk, and presently, as it chanced, Barbara +and I distanced the slow steps of our elders and found ourselves at the +Manor gates alone. + +"I am very sorry for Madame," said she, sighing heavily. Yet presently, +because by the mercy of Providence our own joy outweighs others' grief +and thus we can pass through the world with unbroken hearts, she looked +up at me with a smile, and passing her arm, through mine, drew herself +close to me. + +"Ay, be merry, to-night at least be merry, my sweet," said I. "For we +have come through a forest of troubles and are here safe out on the +other side." + +"Safe and together," said she. + +"Without the second, where would be the first?" + +"Yet," said Barbara, "I fear you'll make a bad husband; for here at the +very beginning--nay, I mean before the beginning--you have deceived me." + +"I protest----!" I cried. + +"For it was from my father only that I heard of a visit you paid in +London." + +I bent my head and looked at her. + +"I would not trouble you with it," said I. "It was no more than a debt +of civility." + +"Simon, I don't grudge it to her. For I am, here in the country with +you, and she is there in London without you." + +"And in truth," said I, "I believe that you are both best pleased." + +"For her," said Barbara, "I cannot speak." + +For a long while then we walked in silence, while the afternoon grew +full and waned again. They mock at lovers' talk; let them, say I with +all my heart, so that they leave our silence sacred. But at last +Barbara turned to me and said with a little laugh: + +"Art glad to have come home, Simon?" + +Verily I was glad. In body I had wandered some way, in mind and heart +farther, through many dark ways, turning and twisting here and there, +leading I knew not whither, seeming to leave no track by which I might +regain my starting point. Yet, although I felt it not, the thread was in +my hand, the golden thread spun here in Hatchstead when my days were +young. At length the hold of it had tightened and I, perceiving it, had +turned and followed. Thus it had brought me home, no better in purse or +station than I went, and poorer by the loss of certain dreams that +haunted me, yet, as I hope, sound in heart and soul. I looked now in the +dark eyes that were, set on me as though there were their refuge, joy, +and life; she clung to me as though even still I might leave her. But +the last fear fled, the last doubt faded away, and a smile came in +radiant serenity on the lips I loved as, bending down, I whispered: + +"Ay, I am glad to have come home." + +But there was one thing more that I must say. Her head fell on my +shoulder as she murmured: + +"And you have utterly forgotten her?" + +Her eyes were safely hidden. I smiled as I answered, "Utterly." + +See how I stood! Wilt thou forgive me, Nelly? + +For a man may be very happy as he is and still not forget the things +which have been. "What are you thinking of, Simon?" my wife asks +sometimes when I lean back in my chair and smile. "Of nothing, sweet," +say I. And, in truth, I am not thinking; it is only that a low laugh +echoes distantly in my ear. Faithful and loyal am I--but, should such as +Nell leave nought behind her? + + + +***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK SIMON DALE*** + + +******* This file should be named 20328.txt or 20328.zip ******* + + +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: +https://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/2/0/3/2/20328 + + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. Special rules, +set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to +copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to +protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark. Project +Gutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be used if you +charge for the eBooks, unless you receive specific permission. If you +do not charge anything for copies of this eBook, complying with the +rules is very easy. You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose +such as creation of derivative works, reports, performances and +research. They may be modified and printed and given away--you may do +practically ANYTHING with public domain eBooks. Redistribution is +subject to the trademark license, especially commercial +redistribution. + + + +*** START: FULL LICENSE *** + +THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE +PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK + +To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free +distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work +(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase "Project +Gutenberg"), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full Project +Gutenberg-tm License (available with this file or online at +https://www.gutenberg.org/license). + + +Section 1. General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic works + +1.A. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to +and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property +(trademark/copyright) agreement. If you do not agree to abide by all +the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or destroy +all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your possession. +If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound by the +terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person or +entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.E.8. + +1.B. "Project Gutenberg" is a registered trademark. It may only be +used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who +agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a few +things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works +even without complying with the full terms of this agreement. See +paragraph 1.C below. There are a lot of things you can do with Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this agreement +and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works. See paragraph 1.E below. + +1.C. The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation ("the Foundation" +or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection of Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works. Nearly all the individual works in the +collection are in the public domain in the United States. If an +individual work is in the public domain in the United States and you are +located in the United States, we do not claim a right to prevent you from +copying, distributing, performing, displaying or creating derivative +works based on the work as long as all references to Project Gutenberg +are removed. Of course, we hope that you will support the Project +Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting free access to electronic works by +freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm works in compliance with the terms of +this agreement for keeping the Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with +the work. You can easily comply with the terms of this agreement by +keeping this work in the same format with its attached full Project +Gutenberg-tm License when you share it without charge with others. + +1.D. The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern +what you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most countries are in +a constant state of change. If you are outside the United States, check +the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this agreement +before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, distributing or +creating derivative works based on this work or any other Project +Gutenberg-tm work. The Foundation makes no representations concerning +the copyright status of any work in any country outside the United +States. + +1.E. Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg: + +1.E.1. The following sentence, with active links to, or other immediate +access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear prominently +whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work on which the +phrase "Project Gutenberg" appears, or with which the phrase "Project +Gutenberg" is associated) is accessed, displayed, performed, viewed, +copied or distributed: + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + +1.E.2. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is derived +from the public domain (does not contain a notice indicating that it is +posted with permission of the copyright holder), the work can be copied +and distributed to anyone in the United States without paying any fees +or charges. If you are redistributing or providing access to a work +with the phrase "Project Gutenberg" associated with or appearing on the +work, you must comply either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1 +through 1.E.7 or obtain permission for the use of the work and the +Project Gutenberg-tm trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or +1.E.9. + +1.E.3. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted +with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution +must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any additional +terms imposed by the copyright holder. Additional terms will be linked +to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works posted with the +permission of the copyright holder found at the beginning of this work. + +1.E.4. Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm +License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this +work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm. + +1.E.5. Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this +electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without +prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with +active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project +Gutenberg-tm License. + +1.E.6. You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary, +compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including any +word processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide access to or +distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format other than +"Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other format used in the official version +posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm web site (www.gutenberg.org), +you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense to the user, provide a +copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means of obtaining a copy upon +request, of the work in its original "Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other +form. Any alternate format must include the full Project Gutenberg-tm +License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1. + +1.E.7. Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying, +performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works +unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. + +1.E.8. You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing +access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works provided +that + +- You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from + the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method + you already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is + owed to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he + has agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the + Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation. Royalty payments + must be paid within 60 days following each date on which you + prepare (or are legally required to prepare) your periodic tax + returns. Royalty payments should be clearly marked as such and + sent to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the + address specified in Section 4, "Information about donations to + the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation." + +- You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies + you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he + does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm + License. You must require such a user to return or + destroy all copies of the works possessed in a physical medium + and discontinue all use of and all access to other copies of + Project Gutenberg-tm works. + +- You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of any + money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the + electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days + of receipt of the work. + +- You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free + distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works. + +1.E.9. If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic work or group of works on different terms than are set +forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing from +both the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and Michael +Hart, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark. Contact the +Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below. + +1.F. + +1.F.1. Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable +effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread +public domain works in creating the Project Gutenberg-tm +collection. Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may contain +"Defects," such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate or +corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other intellectual +property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or other medium, a +computer virus, or computer codes that damage or cannot be read by +your equipment. + +1.F.2. LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the "Right +of Replacement or Refund" described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project +Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all +liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal +fees. YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT +LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE +PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH F3. YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE +TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE +LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR +INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH +DAMAGE. + +1.F.3. LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a +defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can +receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a +written explanation to the person you received the work from. If you +received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium with +your written explanation. The person or entity that provided you with +the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in lieu of a +refund. If you received the work electronically, the person or entity +providing it to you may choose to give you a second opportunity to +receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund. If the second copy +is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing without further +opportunities to fix the problem. + +1.F.4. Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth +in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you 'AS-IS', WITH NO OTHER +WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO +WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTIBILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE. + +1.F.5. Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied +warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of damages. +If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement violates the +law of the state applicable to this agreement, the agreement shall be +interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or limitation permitted by +the applicable state law. The invalidity or unenforceability of any +provision of this agreement shall not void the remaining provisions. + +1.F.6. INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the +trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone +providing copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in accordance +with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the production, +promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works, +harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, including legal fees, +that arise directly or indirectly from any of the following which you do +or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this or any Project Gutenberg-tm +work, (b) alteration, modification, or additions or deletions to any +Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any Defect you cause. + + +Section 2. Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm + +Project Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution of +electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of computers +including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers. It exists +because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations from +people in all walks of life. + +Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the +assistance they need, is critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm's +goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will +remain freely available for generations to come. In 2001, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure +and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future generations. +To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation +and how your efforts and donations can help, see Sections 3 and 4 +and the Foundation web page at https://www.gutenberg.org/fundraising/pglaf. + + +Section 3. Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive +Foundation + +The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non profit +501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the +state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal +Revenue Service. The Foundation's EIN or federal tax identification +number is 64-6221541. Contributions to the Project Gutenberg +Literary Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent +permitted by U.S. federal laws and your state's laws. + +The Foundation's principal office is located at 4557 Melan Dr. S. +Fairbanks, AK, 99712., but its volunteers and employees are scattered +throughout numerous locations. Its business office is located at +809 North 1500 West, Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887, email +business@pglaf.org. Email contact links and up to date contact +information can be found at the Foundation's web site and official +page at https://www.gutenberg.org/about/contact + +For additional contact information: + Dr. Gregory B. Newby + Chief Executive and Director + gbnewby@pglaf.org + +Section 4. Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg +Literary Archive Foundation + +Project Gutenberg-tm depends upon and cannot survive without wide +spread public support and donations to carry out its mission of +increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be +freely distributed in machine readable form accessible by the widest +array of equipment including outdated equipment. Many small donations +($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt +status with the IRS. + +The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating +charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United +States. Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a +considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up +with these requirements. We do not solicit donations in locations +where we have not received written confirmation of compliance. To +SEND DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any +particular state visit https://www.gutenberg.org/fundraising/donate + +While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we +have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition +against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who +approach us with offers to donate. + +International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make +any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from +outside the United States. U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff. + +Please check the Project Gutenberg Web pages for current donation +methods and addresses. Donations are accepted in a number of other +ways including checks, online payments and credit card donations. +To donate, please visit: +https://www.gutenberg.org/fundraising/donate + + +Section 5. General Information About Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works. + +Professor Michael S. Hart was the originator of the Project Gutenberg-tm +concept of a library of electronic works that could be freely shared +with anyone. For thirty years, he produced and distributed Project +Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of volunteer support. + +Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printed +editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the U.S. +unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we do not necessarily +keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition. + +Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility: + + https://www.gutenberg.org + +This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, +including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary +Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to +subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. + diff --git a/20328.zip b/20328.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..5b40d37 --- /dev/null +++ b/20328.zip diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6312041 --- /dev/null +++ b/LICENSE.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11 @@ +This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements, +metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be +in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES. + +Procedures for determining public domain status are described in +the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org. + +No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in +jurisdictions other than the United States. Anyone seeking to utilize +this eBook outside of the United States should confirm copyright +status under the laws that apply to them. diff --git a/README.md b/README.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..4540cf3 --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #20328 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/20328) |
