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diff --git a/31370-h/31370-h.htm b/31370-h/31370-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..fffcf84 --- /dev/null +++ b/31370-h/31370-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,8715 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.1//EN" "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml11/DTD/xhtml11.dtd"> +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" xml:lang="en" > +<head> +<meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=iso-8859-1" /> +<meta name="generator" content="eppg.py 0.51 (22-Feb-2010)" /> +<title>The Project Gutenberg eBook of Mistress Nell by George C. Hazelton, Jr.</title> +<style type="text/css"> +body {margin-left:10%; margin-right:10%;} +p {margin-top:1ex; margin-bottom:0; text-align:justify;} +.pagenum {display:inline; font-size:x-small; text-align:right; text-indent:0; + position:absolute; right:2%; padding:1px 3px; font-style:normal; + font-variant:normal; font-weight:normal; text-decoration:none; + background-color:inherit; border:1px solid #eee;} +.pncolor {color:silver;} +h1,h2 {text-align:center; font-weight:normal;} +h1 {font-size:1.6em; margin-top:4ex; margin-bottom:2ex;} +h2 {font-size:1.4em; margin-top:4ex; margin-bottom:2ex;} +a {text-decoration:none;} +div.toc a {text-decoration:underline;} +div.loi a {text-decoration:underline;} +hr.pb {margin:30px 0; width:100%; border:none; border-top:thin dashed silver;} +p.prethanks {margin:10px 10%;font-variant:small-caps;} +div.figcenter {text-align:center; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em;} +div.figcenter p {text-align:center;} +p.center {text-align:center; text-indent:0em;} +p.caption {font-size:smaller;} +div.titlepage {} +div.titlepage p {text-align:center;} +.fs18 {font-size:1.8em;} +.mb20 {margin-bottom:20px;} +.fs12 {font-size:1.2em;} +.mb30 {margin-bottom:30px;} +.fs14 {font-size:1.4em;} +.fs08 {font-size:0.8em;} +.ml60 {margin-left:60px;} +.mr60 {margin-right:60px;} +.pt20 {padding-top:20px;} +.tpi {margin:25px auto;text-align:center;} +.c {text-align:center; margin: 10px auto;} +.i {font-style:italic;} +.ul {text-decoration:underline;} +.ml15 {margin-left:15px;} +div.poetry {text-indent:0em; margin-left:2em; margin-bottom:4px; margin-top:4px;} +.mb00 {margin-bottom:00px;} +.mt00 {margin-top:00px;} +.mb10 {margin-bottom:10px;} +.sc {font-variant:small-caps;} +.floatl, .figleft {float: left; clear: left; text-align: center; border: 1px solid white; padding: 3px; margin: 0 4px 0 0;} +</style> +</head> +<body> + + +<pre> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Mistress Nell, by George C. Hazelton, Jr. + +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: Mistress Nell + A Merry Tale of a Merry Time + +Author: George C. Hazelton, Jr. + +Release Date: February 23, 2010 [EBook #31370] +[This file last updated: February 10, 2011] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MISTRESS NELL *** + + + + +Produced by Roger Frank and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + +</pre> + +<h1>MISTRESS NELL</h1> + +<hr class='pb' /> + +<p class='prethanks'> +The Illustrations Shown in +this Edition are Reproductions +of Scenes from the +Photo-Play of “Mistress +Nell.” Produced and Copyrighted +by the Famous Players +Film Company, Adolf Zukor, +President, to whom the Publishers +Desire to Express +Their Thanks and Appreciation +for Permission to use +the Pictures.</p> + +<hr class='pb' /> + +<div class='figcenter'> +<a id='link_i1'></a><img src='images/nell-fpc.jpg' alt='' /> +<p class='center caption'> +Nell Gwyn the King’s Favorite. +</p> +</div> + +<hr class='pb' /> + +<div class='titlepage'> +<p class='fs18 mb20'>MISTRESS NELL</p> + +<p class='fs12 mb20'>A MERRY TALE OF A<br />MERRY TIME</p> + +<p class='fs12 mb30'>(<i>T’wixt Fact and Fancy</i>)</p> + +<p class='fs12'>BY</p> + +<p class='fs14'>GEORGE C. HAZELTON, Jr.</p> + +<p class='fs12 mb30'>Author of the Play</p> + +<p class='mb20'>“<i>Let not poor Nelly starve.</i>”</p> + +<p class='fs08 ml60 mr60 mb20'>ILLUSTRATED WITH SCENES FROM THE PHOTO-PLAY<br /> +PRODUCED AND COPYRIGHTED BY THE FAMOUS PLAYERS<br />FILM COMPANY, ADOLPH ZUKOR, PRESIDENT.</p> + +<div class='tpi'> +<img alt='emblem' src='images/nell-tpg.jpg' /> +</div> + +<p>NEW YORK</p> <p class='fs12'>GROSSET & DUNLAP</p> <p>PUBLISHERS</p></div> + +<hr class='pb' /> + +<p class='c i'>Copyright, 1901, by Charles Scribner’s Sons<br /> +All rights reserved</p> + +<hr class='pb' /> + +<p class='c fs12'>A WORD</p> + +<p>It is the vogue to dramatize successful novels. The author of the present +Nell Gwyn story has pursued the contrary course. His “merry” play of +the same name was written and produced before he undertook to compose this tale, +suggested by the same historic sources.</p> + +<p>A word of tribute is gratefully given to the <i>comédienne</i>, Miss Crosman, +whose courage and exquisite art introduced the “Mistress Nell” of +the play to the public.</p> + +<hr class='pb' /> + +<p class='c fs14 mb20'>CONTENTS</p> + +<table summary='TOC' style='margin:10px auto'> +<tr><td>CHAPTER I</td><td align='right'><a href='#link_1'>1</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td><p class='ml15'>“And once Nell Gwyn, a frail young sprite,<br /> +  Looked kindly when I met her;<br /> +I shook my head perhaps–but quite<br /> +  Forgot to quite forget her.”</p></td></tr> + +<tr><td class='pt20'>CHAPTER II</td><td align='right'><a href='#link_2'>10</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td><p class='ml15'>It’s near your cue, Mistress Nell!</p></td></tr> + +<tr><td class='pt20'>CHAPTER III</td><td align='right'><a href='#link_3'>41</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td><p class='ml15'>He took them from Castlemaine’s hand to throw to you.</p></td></tr> + +<tr><td class='pt20'>CHAPTER IV</td><td align='right'><a href='#link_4'>62</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td><p class='ml15'>Flowers and Music feed naught but Love.</p></td></tr> + +<tr><td class='pt20'>CHAPTER V</td><td align='right'><a href='#link_5'>87</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td><p class='ml15'>It was never treason to steal a King’s kisses.</p></td></tr> + +<tr><td class='pt20'>CHAPTER VI</td><td align='right'><a href='#link_6'>101</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td><p class='ml15'>Softly on tiptoe;<br />  Here Nell doth lie.</p></td></tr> + +<tr><td class='pt20'>CHAPTER VII</td><td align='right'><a href='#link_7'>111</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td><p class='ml15'>Come down!<br />Come up!</p></td></tr> + +<tr><td class='pt20'>CHAPTER VIII</td><td align='right'><a href='#link_8'>126</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td><p class='ml15'>“And the man that is drunk is as great as a king.”</p></td></tr> + +<tr><td class='pt20'>CHAPTER IX</td><td align='right'><a href='#link_9'>142</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td><p class='ml15'>Three chickens!</p></td></tr> + +<tr><td class='pt20'>CHAPTER X</td><td align='right'><a href='#link_10'>168</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td><p class='ml15'>Arrest him yourself!</p></td></tr> + +<tr><td class='pt20'>CHAPTER XI</td><td align='right'><a href='#link_11'>182</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td><p class='ml15'>In the field, men; at court, women!</p></td></tr> + +<tr><td class='pt20'>CHAPTER XII</td><td align='right'><a href='#link_12'>195</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td><p class='ml15'>Beau Adair is my name.</p></td></tr> + +<tr><td class='pt20'>CHAPTER XIII</td><td align='right'><a href='#link_13'>232</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td><p class='ml15'>For the glory of England?</p></td></tr> + +<tr><td class='pt20'>CHAPTER XIV</td><td align='right'><a href='#link_14'>240</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td><p class='ml15'>He loves me! He loves me!</p></td></tr> + +<tr><td class='pt20'>CHAPTER XV</td><td align='right'><a href='#link_15'>259</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td><p class='ml15'>I come, my love; I come.</p></td></tr> + +<tr><td class='pt20'>CHAPTER XVI</td><td align='right'><a href='#link_16'>276</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td><p class='ml15'>Ods-pitikins, my own reflection!</p></td></tr> + +<tr><td class='pt20'>CHAPTER XVII</td><td align='right'><a href='#link_17'>290</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td><p class='ml15'>The day will be so happy; for I’ve seen you at the dawn.</p></td></tr> +</table> + +<hr class='pb' /> + +<p class='c fs14 mb20'>MISTRESS NELL</p> +<p class='c fs14'>A MERRY TALE OF A<br />MERRY TIME</p> + +<hr class='pb' /> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_1'></a>1</span><a id='link_1'></a>MISTRESS NELL</h2> + +<table summary='' class='c'><tr><td> +<p class='i'>“And once Nell Gwyn, a frail young sprite,<br /> +    Look’d kindly when I met her;<br /> +I shook my head perhaps–but quite<br /> +    Forgot to quite forget her.“</p> +</td></tr></table> + +<p>It was a merry time in merry old England; for King Charles II. was on the +throne.</p> + +<p>Not that the wines were better or the ladies fairer in his day, but the +renaissance of carelessness and good-living had set in. True Roundheads again +sought quiet abodes in which to worship in their gray and sombre way. Cromwell, +their uncrowned king, was dead; and there was no place for his followers at +court or in tavern. Even the austere and Catholic smile of brother James of +York, one day to be the ruler of the land, could not cast a gloom over the +assemblies at Whitehall. There were those to laugh merrily at the <span +class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_2'></a>2</span> King’s wit, and at the +players’ wit. There were those in abundance to enjoy to-day–to-day +only,–to drink to the glorious joys of to-day, with no care for the +morrow.</p> + +<p>It was, indeed, merry old England; for, when the King has no cares, and +assumes no cares, the people likewise have no cares. The state may be rent, the +court a nest of intrigue, King and Parliament at odds, the treasury bankrupt: +but what care they; for the King cares not. Is not the day prosperous? Are not +the taverns in remotest London filled with roistering spirits who drink and sing +to their hearts’ content of their deeds in the wars just done? Can they +not steal when hungry and demand when dry?</p> + +<p>Aye, the worldly ones are cavaliers now–for a cavalier is +King–e’en though the sword once followed Cromwell and the gay cloak and +the big flying plume do not quite hide the not-yet-discarded cuirass of an +Ironside.</p> + +<p>Cockpits and theatres! It is the Restoration! The maypole is up again at +Maypole<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_3'></a>3</span> Lane, and +the milk-maids bedecked with garlands dance to the tunes of the fiddle. Boys no +longer serve for heroines at the play, as was the misfortune in +Shakespeare’s day. The air is full of hilarity and joy.</p> + +<p>Let us too for a little hour forget responsibility and fall in with the +spirit of the times; while we tipple and toast, and vainly boast: “The +King! Long live the King!”</p> + +<p>Old Drury Lane was alive as the sun was setting, on the day of our visit to +London Town, with loungers and loafers; busy-bodies and hawkers; traffickers of +sweets and other petty wares; swaggering soldiers, roistering by, stopping +forsooth to throw kisses to inviting eyes at the windows above.</p> + +<p>As we turn into Little Russell Street from the Lane, passing many chairs +richly made, awaiting their fair occupants, we come upon the main entrance to +the King’s House. Not an imposing or spacious structure to be sure, it +nevertheless was suited to the managerial purposes of <span class='pagenum +pncolor'><a id='page_4'></a>4</span> the day, which were, as now, to spend as +little and get as much as may be. The pit was barely protected from the weather +by a glazed cupola; so that the audience could not always hear the sweetest song +to a finish without a drenching, or dwell upon the shapeliness of the prettiest +ankle, that revealed itself in the dance by means of candles set on cressets, +which in those days sadly served the purposes of foot-lights.</p> + +<p>It was Dryden’s night. His play was on–“The Conquest of +Granada.” The best of London were there; for a first night then was as +attractive as a first night now. In the balcony were draped boxes, in which +lovely gowns were seen–lovely hair and lovely gems; but the fair faces +were often masked.</p> + +<p>The King sat listless in the royal box, watching the people and the play or +passing pretty compliments with the fair favourites by his side, diverted, +perchance, by the ill-begotten quarrel of some fellow with a saucy orange-wench +over the cost of her golden wares. The true gallants preferred being robbed to +haggling–for the shame of it.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_5'></a>5</span>A knowing one in the +crowd was heard to say: “‘Tis Castlemaine to the King’s +left.”</p> + +<p>“No, ’tis Madame Carwell; curse her,” snarled a more vulgar +companion.</p> + +<p>“Madame Querouaille, knave, Duchess of Portsmouth,” irritably +exclaimed a handsome gallant, himself stumbling somewhat over the French name, +though making a bold play for it, as he passed toward his box, pushing the +fellow aside. He added a moment later, but so that no one heard: +“Portsmouth is far from here.”</p> + +<p>It was the Duke of Buckingham–the great Duke of Buckingham, in the pit +of the King’s House! Truly, we see strange things in these strange times! +Indeed, William Penn himself did not hesitate to gossip with the orange-wenches, +unless Pepys lied–and Pepys never lied.</p> + +<p>“What said he?” asked a stander-by, a butcher, who, with apron on +and sleeves to elbow, had hastily left his stall at one of the afternoon and +still stood with mouth agape and fingers widespread waiting for the play. +Before, however, his sooty companion <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a +id='page_6'></a>6</span> could answer, they were jostled far apart.</p> + +<p>The crowd struggled for places in eager expectation, amid banter none too +virtuous, whistlings and jostlings. The time for the play had arrived. +“Nell! Nell! Nell!” was on every lip.</p> + +<p>And who was “Nell”?</p> + +<p>From amidst the players, lords and coxcombs crowded on the stage stepped +forth Nell Gwyn–the prettiest rogue in merry England.</p> + +<p>A cheer went up from every throat; for the little vixen who stood before them +had long reigned in the hearts of Drury Lane and the habitués of the +King’s House.</p> + +<p>Yea, all eyes were upon the pretty, witty Nell; the one-time orange-girl; now +queen of the theatre, and the idol of the Lane. Her curls were flowing and her +big eyes dancing beneath a huge hat–more, indeed, a canopy than a +hat–so large that the audience screamed with delight at the incongruity of +it and the pretty face beneath.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_7'></a>7</span>This pace in foolery +had been set at the Duke’s House, but Nell out-did them, with her +broad-brimmed hat as large as a cart-wheel and her quaint waist-belt; for was +not her hat larger by half than that at the rival house and her waist-belt +quainter?</p> + +<p>As she came forward to speak the prologue, her laugh too was merrier and more +roguish:</p> + +<div class='poetry'> +<p><i>“This jest was first of the other house’s making,<br /> And, +five times tried, has never fail’d of taking;</i></p> </div><!-- poetry +--> + +<p style='margin-left:10ex; letter-spacing:2em'>.......</p> + +<div class='poetry'> +<p><i>This is that hat, whose very sight did win ye<br /> To laugh and clap as +though the devil were in ye,</i></p> </div><!-- poetry --> + +<p style='margin-left:10ex; letter-spacing:2em'>.......</p> + +<div class='poetry'> +<p><i>I’ll write a play, says one, for I have got<br /> A +broad-brimm’d hat, and waist-belt, towards a plot.<br /> Says the other, +I have one more large than that,<br /> Thus they out-write each other with a +hat!<br /> The brims still grew with every play they writ;<br /> And grew so +large, they cover’d all the wit.<br /> Hat was the play; ’t was +language, wit, and tale:<br /> Like them that find meat, drink, and cloth in +ale.“</i></p> </div><!-- poetry --> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_8'></a>8</span>The King leaned well +out over the box-rail, his dark eyes intent upon Nell’s face.</p> + +<p>A fair hand, however, was placed impatiently upon his shoulder and drew him +gently back. “Lest you fall, my liege.”</p> + +<p>“Thanks, Castlemaine,” he replied, kindly but knowingly. +“You are always thoughtful.”</p> + +<p>The play went on. The actors came and went. Hart appeared in Oriental robes +as Almanzor–a dress which mayhap had served its purposes for Othello, and +mayhap had not; for cast-off court-dresses, without regard to fitness, were the +players’ favourite costumes in those days, the richness more than the +style mattering.</p> + +<p>With mighty force, he read from the centre of the stage, with elocution true +and syllable precise, Dryden’s ponderous lines. The King nodded +approvingly to the poet. The poet glowed with pride at the patronage of the +King. The old-time audience were enchanted. Dryden sat with a triumphant smile +as he dwelt upon his poetic lines and heard the cherished syllables receive +rounds of applause from the Londoners.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_9'></a>9</span>Was it the thought, +dear Dryden; or was it Nell’s pretty ways that bewitched the most of it? +Nell’s laugh still echoes in the world; but where are your plays, dear +Dryden?</p> + +<hr class='pb' /> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_10'></a>10</span><a id='link_2'></a>CHAPTER II</h2> + +<div class='center'> +<p class='center'><i>It’s near your cue, Mistress Nell!</i></p> +</div><!-- centered --> + +<p>The greenroom of the King’s House was scarcely a prepossessing place or +inviting. A door led to the stage; another to the street. On the remaining doors +might have been deciphered from the Old English of a scene-artist’s daub +“Mistress Gwyn” and “Mr. Hart.” These doors led +respectively to the tiring-room of the sweet sprite who had but now set the pit +wild with a hat over a sparkling eye and to that of the actor-manager of the +House. A rough table, a few chairs, a mirror which had evidently seen better +days in some grand mansion and a large throne-chair which might equally well +have satisfied the royalty of Macbeth or Christopher Sly–its royalty, +forsooth, being in its size, for thus only could it lord-it over its +mates–stood in the corner. Old armour hung upon the wall, grim in the +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_11'></a>11</span> light of candles +fixed in braziers. Rushes were strewn about the floor.</p> + +<p>Ah! Pepys, Pepys, was it here that you recalled “specially kissing of +Nell”? Mayhap; for we read in your book: “I kissed her, and so did +my wife, and a mighty pretty soul she is.” Be that as it may, however, you +must have found Nell’s lips very agreeable; for a great wit has suggested +that it was well that Mrs. Pepys was present on the occasion.</p> + +<p>On great play-nights, however, this most unroyal room assumed the proportions +of royalty. Gallants and even lords sought entrance here and elbowed their way +about; and none dared say them nay. They forced a way even upon the stage during +the play, though not so commonly as before the Restoration, yet still too much; +and the players played as best they could, and where best they could. +<i>Billets-doux</i> passed, sweet words were said,–all in this +dilapidated, unpretentious, candle-lighted room.</p> + +<p>At the moment of which we speak, the greenroom was deserted save for a lad of +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_12'></a>12</span> twelve or fourteen +years, who stood before the mirror, posing to his personal satisfaction and +occasionally delivering bits from “Hamlet.” He was none other than +“Dick,” the call-boy of the King’s House.</p> + +<p>The lad struck a final attitude, his brow clouded. He assumed what seemed to +him the proper pose for the royal Dane. His meditations and his pose, however, +were broken in upon by the sudden entrance of Manager Hart, flushed and in an +unusual state of excitement.</p> + +<p>“Where is my dagger, Dick?” he exclaimed, pacing the room.</p> + +<p>The boy came to himself but slowly.</p> + +<p>“What are you doing? Get my dagger, boy,” wildly reiterated the +irate manager. “Don’t you see there will be a stage-wait?” He +cast an anxious glance in the direction of the door which led to the stage.</p> + +<p>“Where did you leave it, sir?” asked the lad, finally realizing +that it would be wise not to trifle at such a time.</p> + +<p>“Never mind where I left it. Get it, get it; do you hear! Nell’s +on the stage <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_13'></a>13</span> +already.” Hart rushed to the door and looked off in an increasing state of +excitement.</p> + +<p>“Why, you’ve got your dagger on, sir,” hesitatingly +suggested the lad, as he caught the gleam of a small scimiter among the folds of +Almanzor’s tunic.</p> + +<p>Hart’s face flushed.</p> + +<p>“Devil take you, boy,” he exclaimed; “you are too stupid +ever to make an actor!”</p> + +<p>With this speech, the manager strode out of the greenroom toward the +stage.</p> + +<p>Poor Dick sank back in an attitude of resignation. “How long, O Rome, +must I endure this bondage?” he said, sadly.</p> + +<p>He again observed his boyish figure in the mirror, and the pretty face +brightened as he realized that there might still be hope in life, despite +Manager Hart’s assertion that he would never be able to act. His features +slowly sank into a set expression of tremendous gloom, such as he thought should +characterize his conception of himself as Hamlet when in days to come the +mantles of Burbage and <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a +id='page_14'></a>14</span> of Betterton should be his and Manager Hart must bow +to him. He stood transfixed before the glass in a day-dream, forgetful of his +ills. His pretty lips moved, and one close by might have heard again, “To +be or not to be” in well-modulated phrase.</p> + +<p>“Ah, boy; here!”</p> + +<p>Dick started.</p> + +<p>It was a richly dressed gallant, in old-rose with royal orders, who had +entered the room quietly but authoritatively from the street–the same +lordly personage we observed in the pit. His manner was that of one accustomed +to be obeyed and quickly too. The lad knew him and bowed low.</p> + +<p>“Tell Mistress Nell, Buckingham would speak with her. Lively, lad; +lively,” he said.</p> + +<p>“She is on the stage, my lord,” replied Dick, respectfully.</p> + +<p>“Gad, I thought otherwise and stepped about from my box. Here; put +these flowers in her tiring-room.”</p> + +<p>The boy took the beautiful bouquet <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a +id='page_15'></a>15</span> of white roses. “Yes, my lord,” he +replied, and turned to do the bidding.</p> + +<p>“Flowers strewn in ladies’ ways oft’ lead to princely +favours,” muttered his lordship, thoughtfully, as he removed his gloves +and vainly adjusted his hat and sword. “Portsmouth at Dover told me +that.”</p> + +<p>It was apparent from his face that much passed before his mind, in that +little second, of days when, at Dover Castle not long since, he had been a +part–and no small part–of the intrigue well planned by Louis of +France, and well executed by the Duchess of Orléans assisted by the fair Louise, +now Duchess of Portsmouth, in which his own purse and power had waxed mightily. +Whatever his lordship thought, however, it was gone like the panorama before a +drowning brain.</p> + +<p>He stopped the lad as he was entering Nell’s tiring-room, with an +exclamation. The boy returned.</p> + +<p>“You gave Mistress Nell my note bidding her to supper?” he asked, +questioningly.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_16'></a>16</span>“I did, my +lord,” answered Dick.</p> + +<p>“’Sheart, a madrigal worthy of Bacchus! She smiled delightedly?” +continued his lordship, in a jocular mood.</p> + +<p>“No, my lord; quite serious.”</p> + +<p>His lordship’s face changed slightly. “Read it eagerly?” he +ventured, where he might have commanded, further to draw out the lad.</p> + +<p>“Yes, my lord,” added Dick, respectfully, “after a +time.” The boy’s lids dropped to avoid revealing his amused +recollection of the incident; and his lordship’s quick eye noted it.</p> + +<p>“Good!” he exclaimed, with an assumed triumphant air. “She +folded it carefully and placed it in her bosom next her heart?”</p> + +<p>“She threw it on the floor, my lord!” meekly answered Dick, +hiding his face in the flowers to avoid revealing disrespect.</p> + +<p>“My <i>billet-doux</i> upon the floor!” angrily exclaimed his +lordship. “Plague on’t, she said something, made some answer, +boy?” The diplomat was growing <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a +id='page_17'></a>17</span> earnest despite himself, as diplomats often do in the +cause of women.</p> + +<p>Dick trembled.</p> + +<p>“She said your dinners made amends for your company, my lord,” he +said, meekly.</p> + +<p>Buckingham’s eyes snapped; but he was too clever to reveal his feelings +further to a call-boy, whom he dismissed with a wave of the hand. He then +swaggered to the table and complacently exclaimed: “The rogue! Nelly, +Nelly, your lips shall pay tribute for that. Rosy impudence! Buckingham’s +dinners make amends for his company? Minx!” He threw himself into a chair, +filled with deep reflections of supper and wine, wit and beauty, rather than +state-craft.</p> + +<p>Thus lost in selfish reflection, he did not observe, or, if he did, cared not +for, the frail figure and sweet face of one who cautiously tiptoed into the +greenroom. It was Orange Moll, whose sad countenance and tattered garments +betokened a sadder story. Her place was in the pit, with her back to the stage, +vending her <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_18'></a>18</span> oranges +to artisans, girls with vizards or foolish gallants. She had no right behind the +scenes.</p> + +<p>“I am ’most afraid to enter here without Nell,” she thought, +faint-heartedly, as she glanced about the room and her eyes fell upon the great +Lord Buckingham.</p> + +<p>“Oranges? Will you have my oranges? Only sixpence, my lord,” she +ventured at length, then hesitatingly advanced and offered her wares; but his +lordship’s thoughts were far away.</p> + +<p>“What shall we have for supper?” was his sole concern. “I +think Nelly would like spiced tongue.” Instantly his hands and eyes were +raised in mock invocation of the intervention of the Powers that Be, and so +suddenly that Moll drew back. “Ye Gods,” he exclaimed aloud, +“she has enough of that already! Ah, the vintage of―”</p> + +<p>It was more habit than courage which brought to Moll’s trembling lips +the familiar orange-cry, which again interrupted him: “Oranges; only +sixpence. Here is one picked for you, my lord.”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_19'></a>19</span>Buckingham’s +eyes flashed with anger; he was not wont to have his way, much less his +pleasure, disturbed by the lowly. “Oh, hang you, you disturb me. I am +thinking; don’t you perceive I am thinking? Begone!”</p> + +<p>“Only sixpence, my lord; I have not sold one to-night,” pleaded +the girl, sadly.</p> + +<p>His lordship rose irritably. “I have no pauper’s pence,” he +exclaimed. “Out of my way! Ragbag!” He pushed the girl roughly aside +and crossed the room.</p> + +<p>At the same instant, there was confusion at the stage-door, the climax of +which was the re-entrance of Hart into the greenroom.</p> + +<p>“How can a man play when he trembles for his life lest he step upon a +lord?” cried the angry manager. “They should be horsewhipped off the +stage, and”–his eyes falling upon Buckingham–“out of the +greenroom.”</p> + +<p>“Ah, Hart,” began his lordship, with a patronizing air, +“why is Nelly so long? I desire to see her.”</p> + +<p>Hart’s lips trembled, but he controlled <span class='pagenum +pncolor'><a id='page_20'></a>20</span> his passion. “Indeed? His Majesty +and the good folk in front would doubtless gladly await your interview with +Mistress Eleanor Gwyn. Shall I announce your will, my lord, unto his Majesty and +stop the play?”</p> + +<p>“You grow ironical, friend Hart,” replied his lordship.</p> + +<p>“Not so,” said the actor, bowing low; “I am your +lordship’s most obedient servant.”</p> + +<p>Buckingham’s lip curled and his eyes revealed that he would have said +more, but the room was meantime filling with players from the stage, some +exchanging compliments, some strutting before the glass, and he would not so +degrade his dignity before them. Dick, foil in hand even in the manager’s +room, was testing the steel’s strength to his utmost, in boyish +fashion.</p> + +<p>This confusion lent Moll courage, and forth came again the cry: +“Oranges? Will you have my oranges? Only sixpence, sir.”</p> + +<p>She boldly offered her wares to Almanzor, <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a +id='page_21'></a>21</span> but started and paled when the hero turned and +revealed Manager Hart.</p> + +<p>“What are you doing here, you little imp? Back to the pit, where you +belong.” The manager’s voice was full of meaning.</p> + +<p>“Nell told me I might come here, sir,” said the girl, faintly +excusing herself.</p> + +<p>Hart’s temper got the better of him. To admit before all that Nell +ruled the theatre was an affront to his managerial dignity which he could not +brook.</p> + +<p>“Oh, Nell did, did she?” he almost shrieked, as he angrily paced +the room like some caged beast, gesticulating wildly.</p> + +<p>The actors gathered in groups and looked askant.</p> + +<p>“Gadso,” he continued, “who is manager, I should like to +know! Nell would introduce her whole trade here if she could. Every +orange-peddler in London will set up a stand in the greenroom at the +King’s, next we know. Out with you! This is a temple of art, not a +marketplace. Out with you!”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_22'></a>22</span>He seized Moll +roughly in his anger and almost hurled her out at the door. He would have done +so, indeed, had not Nell entered at this moment from the stage. Her eye caught +the situation at a glance.</p> + +<p>“Oh, blood, Iago, blood!” she exclaimed, mock-heroically, then +burst into the merriest laugh that one could care to hear. “How now, a +tragedy in the greenroom! What lamb is being sacrificed?”</p> + +<p>Hart stood confused; the players whispered in expectation; and an amused +smile played upon the features of my Lord Buckingham at the manager’s +discomfiture. Finally Hart found his tongue.</p> + +<p>“An old comrade of yours at orange-vending before you lost the art of +acting,” he suggested, with a glance at Moll.</p> + +<p>“By association with you, Jack?” replied the witch of the theatre +in a way which bespoke more answers that wisdom best not bring forth.</p> + +<div class='figcenter'> +<a id='link_i2'></a><img src='images/nell-022.jpg' alt='' /> +<p class='center caption'> +“ENEMIES TO THE KING–BEWARE!” +</p> +</div> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_23'></a>23</span>Nell’s whole +heart went out to the subject of the controversy. Poor little tattered Orange +Moll! She was carried back in an instant to her own bitter life and bitter +struggles when an orange-girl. Throwing an arm about the child, she kissed away +the tears with, “What is the matter, dear Moll?”</p> + +<p>“They are all mocking me, and sent me back to the pit,” replied +the girl, hysterically.</p> + +<p>“Shame on you all,” said Nell; and the eyes that were so full of +comedy revealed tragic fire.</p> + +<p>“Fy, fy,” pleaded Hart; “I’ll be charitable +to-morrow, Nell, after this strain is off–but a first +night–”</p> + +<p>“You need charity yourself?” suggested Nell; and she burst into a +merry laugh, in which many joined.</p> + +<p>Buckingham instantly took up the gauntlet for a bold play, for a <i>coup +d’état</i> in flattery. “Pshaw!” he cried, waving aside the +players in a princely fashion. “When Nell plays, we have no time to munch +oranges. Let the wench bawl in the street.”</p> + +<p>Poor Moll’s tears flowed again with <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a +id='page_24'></a>24</span> each harsh word. Nell was not so easily affected.</p> + +<p>“Odso, my lord! It is a pity your lordship is not a player. Then the +orange-trade would flourish,” she said.</p> + +<p>Buckingham bowed, amused and curious. “Say you so, i’ faith! +Pray, why, mad minx?”</p> + +<p>“Your lordship would make such a good mark for the peel,” +retorted Nell, tossing a bit of orange-peel in his face, to the infinite delight +of Hart and his fellow-players.</p> + +<p>“Devil!” angrily exclaimed his lordship as he realized the +insult. “I would kill a man for this; a woman, I can only love.” His +hand left his sword-hilt; and he bowed low to the vixen of the theatre, picked +from the floor the bit of peel which had fallen, kissed it, tossed it over his +shoulder and turned away.</p> + +<p>Nell was not done, however; her revenge was incomplete. “There! dry +your eyes, Moll,” she exclaimed. “Give me your basket, child. You +shall be avenged still further.”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_25'></a>25</span>The greenroom had +now filled from the stage and the tiring-rooms; and all gathered gleefully about +to see what next the impish Nell would do, for avenged she would be they all +knew, though the course of her vengeance none could guess.</p> + +<p>The manager, catching at the probable outcome when Nell seized from +Moll’s trembling arm the basket heaped with golden fruit, gave the first +warning: “Great Heavens! Flee for your lives! I’faith, here comes the +veteran robber at such traffic.”</p> + +<p>There was a sudden rush for the stage, but Nell cried: “Guard the door, +Moll; don’t let a rascal out. I’ll do the rest.”</p> + +<p>It was not Moll’s strength, however, which kept the greenroom filled, +but expectation of Nell. All gathered about with the suspense of a drama; for +Nell herself was a whole play as she stood in the centre of that little group of +lords and players, dressed for Almahyde, Dryden’s heroine, with a basket +of oranges on her dimpled arm. What a pretty picture she was too– <span +class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_26'></a>26</span> prettier here even than on +the stage! The nearer, the prettier! A band of roses, one end of which formed a +garland falling to the floor, circled and bound in her curls. What a figure in +her Oriental garb, hiding and revealing. Indeed, the greenroom seemed bewitched +by her cry: “Oranges, will you have my oranges?”</p> + +<p>She lifted the basket high and offered the fruit in her enchanting old-time +way, a way which had won for her the place of first actress in England. Could it +not now dispose of Moll’s wares and make the child happy? Almahyde’s +royal train was caught up most unroyally, revealing two dainty ankles; and she +laughed and danced and disposed of her wares all in a breath. Listen and +love:</p> + +<div class='poetry'> +<p><i>Sweet as love-lips, dearest mine,<br /> Picked by Spanish maids +divine,<br /> Black-eyed beauties, who, like Eve,<br /> With golden fruit +their loves deceive!<br /> Buy oranges; buy +oranges!</i><br />  <br /> <i>Close your eyes, when these you +taste;<br />Think your arm about her waist:<br /> <span +class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_27'></a>27</span>Thus with sixpence may +you win<br /> Happiness unstained with sin.<br /> + Buy oranges; buy oranges!</i><br />  <br /> +<i>As the luscious fruit you sip,<br /> You will wager ’tis her +lip;<br /> Nothing sweeter since the rise<br /> Of wickedness in +Paradise.<br /> Buy oranges; buy oranges!</i></p> +</div><!-- poetry --> + +<p>There were cries of “Brava!” “Another jig!” and +“Hurrah for Nelly!” It was one of those bits of acting behind the +scenes which are so rare and exquisite and which the audience never see.</p> + +<p>“Marry, gallants, deny me after that, if you dare”; and +Nell’s little foot came down firmly in the last step of a triumphant jig, +indicating a determination that Moll’s oranges should be sold and quickly +too.</p> + +<p>“Last act! All ready for the last act,” rang out in Dick’s +familiar voice from the stage-door as she ended. It was well some one thought of +the play and of the audience in waiting.</p> + +<p>Many of the players hastily departed to <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a +id='page_28'></a>28</span> take up their cues; but not so Nell. Her eyes were +upon the lordly Buckingham, who was endeavouring to effect a crafty exit.</p> + +<p>“Not so fast, my lord,” she said as she caught his handsome cloak +and drew him back into the room. “I want you with me.” She looked +coyly into his lordship’s face as though he were the one man in all the +world she loved, and her curls and cheek almost nestled against his rich cloak. +“A dozen, did you say? What a heart you have, my lord. A bountiful +heart!”</p> + +<p>Buckingham was dazed; his eyes sought Nell, then looked aghast at the oranges +she would force upon him. The impudence of it!</p> + +<p>“A dozen!” he exclaimed in awe. “’Slife, Nelly; what would +I do with a dozen oranges?”</p> + +<p>“Pay for them, in sooth,” promptly replied the vixen. “I +never give a lord credit.”</p> + +<p>The player-folk gathered closer to watch the scene; for there was evidently +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_29'></a>29</span> more fun brewing, +and that too at the expense of a very royal gentleman.</p> + +<p>“A player talk of credit!” replied his lordship, quite +ironically, as he straightened up proudly for a wit-encounter. “What would +become of the mummers, if the lords did not fill their empty pockets?” he +said, crushingly.</p> + +<p>“What would become of the lords, if the players’ brains did not +try to fill their empty skulls with wits?” quickly retorted Nell.</p> + +<p>“If you were a man, sweet Nelly, I should answer: ‘The lords first had +fools at court; then supplanted them with players!’”</p> + +<p>“And, being a woman, I do answer,” replied the irrepressible +Nell, “’–and played the fools themselves, my +lord!’”</p> + +<p>The players tried to smother their feelings; but the retort was too apt, and +the greenroom rang with laughter.</p> + +<p>Buckingham turned fiercely upon them; but their faces were instantly +mummified.</p> + +<p>“Gad, I would sooner face the Dutch <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a +id='page_30'></a>30</span> fleet, Nelly. Up go my hands, fair robber,” he +said. He had decided to succumb for the present. In his finger-tips glistened a +golden guinea.</p> + +<p>Nell eyed the coin dubiously.</p> + +<p>“Nay, keep this and your wares too,” added his lordship, in hope +of peace, as he placed it in her hand.</p> + +<p>“Do you think me a beggar?” replied Nell, indignantly. +“Take your possessions, every one–every orange.” She filled +his hands and arms to overflowing with her golden wares.</p> + +<p>His lordship winced, but stood subdued.</p> + +<p>“What am I to do with them?” he asked, falteringly.</p> + +<p>“Eat them; eat them,” promptly and forcefully retorted the +quondam orange-vender.</p> + +<p>“All?” asked his lordship.</p> + +<p>“All!” replied her ladyship.</p> + +<p>“Damme, I cannot hold a dozen,” he exclaimed, aghast.</p> + +<p>“A chair! A chair!” cried Nell. “Would your lordship stand +at the feast of gold?”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_31'></a>31</span>Before Buckingham +had time to reflect upon the outrage to his dignity, Nell forced him into a +chair, to the great glee of the by-standers, especially of Manager Hart, who +chuckled to an actor by his side: “She’ll pluck his fine feathers; +curse his arrogance.”</p> + +<p>“Your knees together, my lord! What, have they never united in +prayer?” gleefully laughed Nell as she further humbled his lordship by +forcing his knees together to form a lap upon which to pile more oranges.</p> + +<p>Buckingham did not relish the scene; but he was clever enough to humour the +vixen, both from fear of her tongue and from hope of favours as well as words +from her rosy lips.</p> + +<p>“They’ll unite to hold <i>thee</i>, wench,” he suggested, +with a sickly laugh, as he observed his knees well laden with oranges. “I +trow not,” retorted Nell; “they can scarce hold their own. +There!” and she roguishly capped the pyramid which burdened his +lordship’s knees with the largest in her basket.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_32'></a>32</span>“I’ll +barter these back for my change, sweet Nell,” he pleaded.</p> + +<p>“What change?” quickly cried the merry imp of Satan.</p> + +<p>“I gave you a golden guinea,” answered his lordship, +woefully.</p> + +<p>“I gave you a golden dozen, my lord!” replied Nell, +gleefully.</p> + +<p>“Oranges, who will have my oranges?”</p> + +<p>She was done with Buckingham and had turned about for other prey.</p> + +<p>Hart could not allow the opportunity to escape without a shot at his hated +lordship.</p> + +<p>“Fleeced,” he whispered grimly over his lordship’s +shoulder, with a merry chuckle.</p> + +<p>Buckingham rose angrily.</p> + +<p>“A plague on the wench and her dealings,” he said. His oranges +rolled far and wide over the floor of the greenroom.</p> + +<p>“You should be proud, my lord, to be robbed by so fair a hand,” +continued Hart, consolingly. “’Tis an honour, I assure you; we all envy +you.”</p> + +<p>Buckingham did not relish the consolation.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_33'></a>33</span>“’Tis an old +saw, Master Hart,” he replied: “‘He laughs best who laughs +last.’”</p> + +<p>As he spoke, Nell’s orange-cry rang out again above the confusion and +the fun. She was still at it. Moll was finding vengeance and money, indeed, +though she dwelt upon her accumulating possessions through eyelashes dim with +tears.</p> + +<p>“It’s near your cue, Mistress Nell,” cried out the watchful +Dick at the stage-door.</p> + +<p>“Six oranges left; see me sell them, Moll,” cried the unheeding +vender.</p> + +<p>“It’s near your cue, Mistress Nell!” again shouted the +call-boy, in anxious tones.</p> + +<p>“Marry, my cue will await my coming, pretty one,” laughed +Nell.</p> + +<p>The boy was not so sure of that. “Oh, don’t be late, Mistress +Nell,” he pleaded. “I’ll buy the oranges rather than have you +make a stage-wait.”</p> + +<p>“Dear heart,” replied Nell, touched by the lad’s +solicitude. “Keep your pennies, Dick, and you and I will have a lark <span +class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_34'></a>34</span> with them some fine day. +Six oranges, left; going–going–” She sprang into the +throne-chair, placed one of the smallest feet in England impudently on one of +its arms and proceeded to vend her remaining wares from on high, to the huge +satisfaction of her admirers.</p> + +<p>The situation was growing serious. Nell was not to be trifled with. The +actors stood breathless. Hart grew wild as he realized the difficulty and the +fact that she was uncontrollable. King and Parliament, he well knew, could not +move her from her whimsical purpose, much less the manager of the +King’s.</p> + +<p>“What are you doing, Nell?” he pleaded, wildly. “You will +ruin the first night. His Majesty in front, too! Dryden will never forgive us if +‘Granada’ goes wrong through our fault.”</p> + +<p>“Heyday! What care I for ‘Granada’?” and Nell swung the +basket of oranges high in air and calmly awaited bids. “Not a step on the +stage till the basket is empty.”</p> + +<p>It was Buckingham’s turn now. <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a +id='page_35'></a>35</span> “Here’s music for our manager,” he +chuckled. “Our deepest sympathy, friend Hart.”</p> + +<p>This was more than Hart could bear. The manager of the King’s House was +forced into profanity. “Damn your sympathy,” exclaimed he; and few +would criticise him for it. He apologized as quickly, however, and turned to +Nell. “There goes your scene, Nell. I’ll buy your oranges, when you +come off,” he continued to plead, in desperation, scarcely less fearful of +offending her than of offending the great Lord Buckingham.</p> + +<p>“Now or never,” calmly replied the vender from her chair-top.</p> + +<p>“The devil take the women,” muttered Hart, frantically, as he +rushed headlong into his tiring-room.</p> + +<p>“Marry, Heaven defend,” laughed Nell; “for he’s got +the men already.” She sprang lightly from the chair to the floor.</p> + +<p>Hart was back on the instant, well out of breath but purse in hand.</p> + +<p>“Here, here,” he exclaimed. “Never <span class='pagenum +pncolor'><a id='page_36'></a>36</span> mind the oranges, wench. The audience +will be waiting.”</p> + +<p>“Faith and troth, and is not Nell worth waiting for?” she cried, +her eyes shining radiantly. Indeed, the audience would have gladly waited, could +they have but seen her pretty, winsome way! “These are +yours–all–all!” she continued, as she gleefully emptied the +basket of its remaining fruit over Prince Almanzor’s head.</p> + +<p>Hart protested vainly.</p> + +<p>Then rushing back to Moll, Nell threw both arms about the girl triumphantly. +“There, Moll,” she said, “is your basket and all the +trophies”; and she gave Moll the basket with the glittering coins jangling +in it.</p> + +<p>“Your cue–your cue is spoken, Mistress Nell,” shrieked Dick +from the stage-door.</p> + +<p>Nell heeded not. Her eyes happening upon an orange which had fallen near the +throne-chair, she caught it up eagerly and hurled it at Manager Hart.</p> + +<p>“Forsooth, here’s another orange, Master Manager.”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_37'></a>37</span>He succeeded in +catching it despite his excitement.</p> + +<p>“Your cue–your cue–Mistress Nell!” came from every +throat as one.</p> + +<p>Nell tossed back her head indifferently. “Let them wait; let them +wait,” she said, defiantly.</p> + +<p>The stage-beauty crossed leisurely to the glass and carelessly arranged her +drapery and the band of roses encircling her hair.</p> + +<p>Then the hoyden was gone. In an instant, Nell was transformed into the +princess, Almahyde. The room had been filled with breathless suspense; but what +seemed to the players an endless period of time was but a minute. Nell turned to +the manager, and with all the suavity of a princess of tragedy kissed her hand +tantalizingly to him and said: “Now, Jack, I’ll teach you how to +act.”</p> + +<p>She passed out, and, in a moment, rounds of applause from the amphitheatre +filled the room. She was right; the audience would wait for her.</p> + +<p>A moment later, the greenroom was <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a +id='page_38'></a>38</span> deserted except for Manager Hart and Lord Buckingham. +Hart had thrown the call-boy almost bodily through the door that led to the +stage, thus venting his anger upon the unoffending lad, who had been unfortunate +enough to happen in his way ill betimes. He now stood vainly contemplating +himself before the glass and awaiting his cue. Buckingham leaned upon a +chair-top, uncertain as to his course.</p> + +<p>“Damme! She shall rue this work,” he muttered at length. “A +man might as well make love to a wind-mill. I forgot to tell her how her gown +becomes her. That is a careless thing to forget.” The reflection forthwith +determined his course. “Nelly, Nelly, Nelly,” he called as he +quickly crossed the room after the departed Nell, “you are divine +to-night. Your gown is simply–”</p> + +<p>The manager’s voice stayed him at the stage-door. “My lord, come +back; my lord–”</p> + +<p>Buckingham’s hand had gone so far, indeed, as to push open the door. He +stood entranced as he looked out upon the object <span class='pagenum +pncolor'><a id='page_39'></a>39</span> of his adoration upon the stage. +“Perfection!” he exclaimed. “Your eyes–”</p> + +<p>“My lord, my lord, you forget–”</p> + +<p>Buckingham turned indignantly at the voice which dared to interrupt him in +the midst of his rhapsody.</p> + +<p>“You forget–your oranges, my lord,” mildly suggested Hart, +as he pointed to the fruit scattered upon the floor.</p> + +<p>Buckingham’s face crimsoned. “Plague on’t! They are sour, +Master Hart.” With a glance of contempt, he turned on his heel and left +the room.</p> + +<p>A triumphant smile played upon the manager’s face. He felt that he had +annoyed his lordship without his intention being apparent. “A good exit, +on my honour,” he muttered, as he stood contemplating the door through +which Buckingham had passed; “but, by Heaven, he shall better it unless he +takes his eyes from Nell. Great men believe themselves resistless with the fair; +more often, the fair are resistless with great men.”</p> + +<p>He took a final look at himself in the <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a +id='page_40'></a>40</span> glass, adjusted his scimiter; and, well satisfied +with himself and the conceit of his epigram unheard save by himself, he also +departed, to take up his cue.</p> + +<hr class='pb' /> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_41'></a>41</span><a id='link_3'></a>CHAPTER III</h2> + +<div class='center'> +<p class='center'><i>He took them from Castlemaine’s hand to throw to +you.</i></p> +</div><!-- centered --> + +<p>The greenroom seemed like some old forest rent by a storm. Its furniture, +which was none too regular at best, either in carving or arrangement, had the +irregularity which comes only with a tempest, human or divine. The table, it is +true, still stood on its four oaken legs; but even it was well awry. The chairs +were scattered here and there, some resting upon their backs. To add to all +this, oranges in confusion were strewn broadcast upon the floor.</p> + +<p>A storm in fact had visited the greenroom. The storm was Nell.</p> + +<p>In the midst of the confusion, a jolly old face peeped cautiously in at the +door which led to the street. At the sound of Manager Hart’s thunderous +tones coming from the stage, however, it as promptly disappeared, only to return +when the apparent <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_42'></a>42</span> +danger ceased. It was a rare old figure and a rare old dress and a rare old man. +Yet, not an old man either. His face was red; for he was a tavern spirit, well +known and well beloved,–a lover of good ale! Across his back hung a fiddle +which too had the appearance of being the worse for wear, if fiddles can ever be +said to be the worse for wear.</p> + +<p>The intruder took off his dilapidated hat, hugged his fiddle closely under +his arm and looked about the room, more cautiously than respectfully.</p> + +<p>“Oons, here is a scattering of props; a warfare of the +orange-wenches!” he exclaimed. “A wise head comes into battle after +the last shot is fired.”</p> + +<p>He proceeded forthwith to fill his pockets, of which there seemed to be an +abundance of infinite depth, with oranges. This done, he calmly made a hole in +the next orange which came to his hand and began to suck it loudly and +persistently, boy-fashion, meanwhile smacking his lips. His face was one wreath +of unctuous smiles. “There is but one way to eat an <span class='pagenum +pncolor'><a id='page_43'></a>43</span> orange,” he chuckled; +“that’s through a hole.”</p> + +<p>At this moment, Hart’s voice was heard again upon the stage, and the +new-comer to the greenroom liked to have dropped his orange. “Odsbud, +that’s one of Master Hart’s love-tones,” he thought. “I +must see Nell before he sees me, or it will be farewell Strings.” He +hastened to Nell’s tiring-room and rapped lightly on the door. +“Mistress Nell! Mistress Nell!” he called.</p> + +<p>The door opened, but it was not Nell. Her maid pointed toward the stage. +Strings–for Strings was his name, or at least none knew him by a +better–accordingly hobbled across the room–for the wars too had left +their mark on him–and peeped off in the direction indicated.</p> + +<p>“Gad,” he exclaimed, gleefully clapping his hands, “there +she goes on the stage as a Moorish princess.”</p> + +<p>There was a storm of applause without.</p> + +<p>“Bravo, Nelly, bravo!” he continued. “She’s caught +the lads in the pit. They <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a +id='page_44'></a>44</span> worship Nell out there.” The old fellow +straightened up as if he felt a personal pride in the audience for evincing such +good taste.</p> + +<p>“Oons! Jack Hart struts about like a young game-cock at his first +fight,” he observed. He broke into an infectious laugh, which would have +been a fine basso for Nell’s laugh.</p> + +<p>From the manager, his eye turned toward the place which he himself had once +occupied among the musicians. He began to dance up and down with both feet, his +knees well bent, boy-fashion, and to clap his hands wildly. “Look ye, +little Tompkins got my old place with the fiddle. Whack, de-doodle-de-do! Whack, +de-doodle, de-doodle-de-do!” he cried, giving grotesque imitations to his +own great glee of his successor as leader of the orchestra.</p> + +<p>Then, shaking his head, confident of his own superiority with the bow, he +turned back into the greenroom and, with his mouth half full of orange, uttered +the droll dictum: “It will take more than catgut <span class='pagenum +pncolor'><a id='page_45'></a>45</span> and horse-hair to make you a fiddler, +Tommy, my boy.”</p> + +<p>Thus Strings stood blandly sucking his orange with personal satisfaction in +the centre of the room, when Dick entered from the stage. The call-boy paused as +if he could not believe his eyes. He looked and looked again.</p> + +<p>“Heigh-ho!” he exclaimed at last, and then rushed across the room +to greet the old fiddler. “Why, Strings, I thought we would never see you +again; how fares it with you?”</p> + +<p>Strings placed the orange which he had been eating and which he knew full +well was none of his own well behind him; and, assuming an unconcerned and +serious air, he replied: “Odd! A little the worse for wear, Dickey, me and +the old fiddle, but still smiling with the world.” There was a bit of a +twinkle in his eye as he spoke.</p> + +<p>Dick, ever mindful of the welfare and appearance of the theatre, unhooked +from the wall a huge shield, which mayhap had served some favourite knight of +yore, <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_46'></a>46</span> and, using it +as a tray, proceeded to gather the scattered fruit.</p> + +<p>“Have an orange?” he inquired of Strings, who still stood in a +reflective mood in the centre of the room, as he rested in his labours by +him.</p> + +<p>“How; do they belong to you?” demanded Strings.</p> + +<p>“Oh, no,” admitted Dick, “but–”</p> + +<p>The fiddler instantly assumed an air of injured innocence.</p> + +<p>“How dare you,” he cried, “offer me what don’t belong +to you?” He turned upon the boy almost ferociously at the bare thought. +“Honesty is the best policy,” he continued, seriously. “I have +tried both, lad”; and, in his eagerness to impress upon the boy the +seriousness of taking that which does not belong to you, he gestured +inadvertently with the hand which till now had held the stolen orange well +behind him.</p> + +<p>Dick’s eye fell upon it, and so did Strings’s. There was a +moment’s awkwardness, and then both burst into a peal of joyous +laughter.</p> + +<div class='figcenter'> +<a id='link_i3'></a><img src='images/nell-046.jpg' alt='' /> +<p class='center caption'> +A FRIEND EVEN UNTO HER WORST ENEMY. +</p> +</div> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_47'></a>47</span>“Oh, well, +egad,–I <i>will</i> join you, Dick,” said Strings, with more +patronage still than apology. He seated himself upon the table and began anew to +suck his orange in philosophic fashion.</p> + +<p>“But, mind you, lad; never again offer that which is not your own, for +there you are twice cursed,” he discoursed pompously. “You make him +who receives guilty of your larceny. Oons, my old wound.” He winced from +pain. “He becomes an accomplice in your crime. So says the King’s +law. Hush, lad, I am devouring the evidence of your guilt.”</p> + +<p>The boy by this time had placed the shield of oranges in the corner of the +room and had returned to listen to Strings’s discourse. “You speak +with the learning of a solicitor,” he said, as he looked respectfully into +the old fiddler’s face.</p> + +<p>Strings met the glance with due dignity.</p> + +<p>“Marry, I’ve often been in the presence of a judge,” he +replied, with great solemnity. His face reflected the ups and <span +class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_48'></a>48</span> downs in his career as he +made the confession.</p> + +<p>“Is that where you have been, Strings, all these long days?” +asked Dick, innocently.</p> + +<p>“Heaven forbid!” exclaimed Strings, with sadly retrospective +countenance. “Travelling, lad–contemplating the world, from the +King’s highways. Take note, my boy,–a prosperous man! I came into +the world without a rag that I could call my own, and now I have an abundance. +Saith the philosopher: Some men are born to rags, some achieve rags and some +have rags thrust upon them.”</p> + +<p>“I wish you were back with us, Strings,” said the boy, +sympathetically, as he put a hand upon Strings’s broad shoulder and looked +admiringly up into his face.</p> + +<p>“I wish so myself,” replied the fiddler. “Thrice a day, I +grow lonesome here.” A weather-beaten hand indicated the spot where good +dinners should be.</p> + +<p>“They haven’t all forgot you, Strings,” continued his +companion, consolingly.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_49'></a>49</span>“Right, +lad!” said Strings, musingly, as he lifted the old viol close against his +cheek and tenderly picked it. “The old fiddle is true to me yet, though +there is but one string left to its dear old neck.” There was a sob in his +voice as he spoke. “I tell you, a fiddle’s human, Dick! It laughs at +my jokes alone now; it weeps at my sorrows.” He sighed deeply and the +tears glistened in his eyes. “The fiddle is the only friend left me and +the little ones at home now, my lad.”</p> + +<p>“–And Dick!” the boy suggested, somewhat hurt. He too was +weeping. “It’s a shame; that’s what it is!” he broke +out, indignantly. “Tompkins can’t play the music like you used to, +Strings.”</p> + +<p>“Oons!” exclaimed the fiddler, the humour in his nature bubbling +again to the surface. “It’s only now and then the Lord has time to +make a fiddler, Dickey, my boy.”</p> + +<p>As he spoke, the greenroom shook with the rounds of applause from the pit and +galleries without.</p> + +<p>“Hurrah!” he shouted, following <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a +id='page_50'></a>50</span> Dick to the stage-door–his own sorrows melting +before the sunshine of his joy at the success of his favourite. “Nell has +caught them with the epilogue.” He danced gleefully about, entering +heartily into the applause and totally forgetful of the fact that he was on +dangerous ground.</p> + +<p>Dick was more watchful. “Manager Hart’s coming!” he +exclaimed in startled voice, fearful for the welfare of his friend.</p> + +<p>Strings collapsed. “Oh, Lord, let me be gone,” he said, as he +remembered the bitter quarrel he had had with the manager of the King’s +House, which ended in the employment of Tompkins. He did not yearn for another +interview; for Hart had forbidden him the theatre on pain of whipping.</p> + +<p>“Where can you hide?” whispered Dick, woefully, as the +manager’s voice indicated that he was approaching the greenroom, and that +too in far from the best of humour.</p> + +<p>“Behind Richard’s throne-chair! It has held sinners before +now,” added the fiddler as he glided well out of sight.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_51'></a>51</span>Dick was more +cautious. In a twinkling, he was out of the door which led to the street.</p> + +<p>The greenroom walls looked grim in the sputtering candle-light, but they had +naught to say.</p> + +<p>The door from the stage opened, and in came Nell. There was something sadly +beautiful and pathetic in her face. She had enjoyed but now one of the grandest +triumphs known to the theatre, and yet she seemed oblivious to the applause and +bravas, to the lights and to the royalty.</p> + +<p>A large bouquet of flowers was in her arms–a bouquet of red roses. Her +lips touched them reverently. Her eyes, however, were far away in a dream of the +past.</p> + +<p>“From the hand of the King of England!” she mused softly to +herself. “The King? How like his face to the youthful cavalier, who weary +and worn reined in his steed a summer’s day, now long ago, and took a +gourd of water from my hand. Could he have been the King? Pooh, pooh! I dream +again.”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_52'></a>52</span>She turned away, +as from herself, with a heart-heavy laugh. The manager entered from the +stage.</p> + +<p>“See, Jack, my flowers,” she said, again in an ecstasy of +happiness. “Are they not exquisite?”</p> + +<p>“He took them from Castlemaine’s hand to throw to you,” +snarled Hart, jealously.</p> + +<p>“The sweeter, then!” and Nell broke into a tantalizing laugh. +“Mayhap he was teaching the player-king to do likewise, Jack,” she +added, roguishly, as she arranged the flowers in a vase.</p> + +<p>“I am in no mood for wit-thrusts,” replied Hart as he fretfully +paced the room. “You played that scene like an icicle.”</p> + +<p>“In sooth, your acting froze me,” slyly retorted Nell, kindly but +pointedly. She took the sweetest roses from the bunch, kissed them and arranged +them in her bosom.</p> + +<p>This did not improve Hart’s temper.</p> + +<p>Strings seized the opportunity to escape from his hiding-place to the +stage.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_53'></a>53</span>“I say, you +completely ruined my work,” said Hart. “The audience were rightly +displeased.”</p> + +<p>“With you, perhaps,” suggested Nell. “I did not observe the +feeling.”</p> + +<p>Hart could no longer control himself. “You vilely read those glorious +lines:</p> + +<div class='poetry'> +<p><i>“See how the gazing People crowd the Place;<br /> All gaping to be +fill’d with my Disgrace.<br /> That Shout, like the hoarse Peals of +Vultures rings,<br /> When, over fighting Fields they beat their +wings.”</i></p> </div><!-- poetry --> + +<p>“And how should I read them, dear master?” she asked demurely of +her vainglorious preceptor.</p> + +<p>“Like I read them, in sooth,” replied he, well convinced that his +reading could not be bettered.</p> + +<p>“Like you read them, in sooth,” replied Nell, meekly. She took +the floor and repeated the lines with the precise action and trick of voice +which Hart had used. Every “r” was well trilled; +“gaping” was pronounced with an anaconda-look, <span class='pagenum +pncolor'><a id='page_54'></a>54</span> as though she were about to swallow the +theatre, audience and all; and, as she spoke the line, “When, over +fighting Fields they beat their wings,” she raised her arms and shoulders +in imitation of some barn-yard fowl vainly essaying flight and swept across the +room, the picture of grace in ungracefulness.</p> + +<p>“’Tis monstrous!” exclaimed Hart, bitterly, as he realized the +travesty. “You cannot act and never could. I was a fool to engage +you.”</p> + +<p>Nell was back by the vase, toying with the flowers. “London applauds my +acting,” she suggested, indifferently.</p> + +<p>“London applauds the face and figure; not the art,” replied +Hart.</p> + +<p>“London is wise; for the art is in the face and figure, Master Jack. +You told me so yourself,” she added, sharply, pointing her finger at her +adversary in quick condemnation. She turned away triumphant.</p> + +<p>“I was a fool like the rest,” replied Hart, visibly irritated +that he could not get the better of the argument.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_55'></a>55</span>“Come, +don’t be angry,” said Nell. Her manner had changed; for her heart +had made her fearful lest her tongue had been unkind. “Mayhap Almahyde is +the last part Nell will ever play.” She looked thoughtfully into the bunch +of roses. Did she see a prophecy there?</p> + +<p>He approached the table where she stood. “Your head is turned by the +flowers,” he said, bitterly. “An honest motive, no doubt, prompted +the royal gift.”</p> + +<p>Nell turned sharply upon him. Her lips trembled, but one word only came to +them–“Jack!”</p> + +<p>Hart’s eyes fell under the rebuke; for he knew that only anger prompted +what he had said. He would have struck another for the same words.</p> + +<p>“Pardon, Nell,” he said, softly. “My heart rebukes my +tongue. I love you!”</p> + +<p>Nell stepped back to the mirror, contemplating herself, bedecked as she was +with the flowers. In an instant she forgot all, and replied playfully to +Hart’s confession of love: “Of course, you do. How could you help +it? So do others.”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_56'></a>56</span>“I love you +better than the rest,” he added, vehemently, “better than my +life.” He tried to put his arms about her.</p> + +<p>Nell, however, was by him like a flash.</p> + +<p>“Not so fast, dear sir,” she said, coyly; and she tiptoed across +the room and ensconced herself high in the throne-chair.</p> + +<p>Hart followed and knelt below her, adoring.</p> + +<p>“Admit that I can act–a little–just a little–dear +Hart, or tell me no more of love.” She spoke with the half-amused, +half-indifferent air of a beautiful princess to some servant-suitor; and she +was, indeed, most lovable as she leaned back in the great throne-chair. She +seemed a queen and the theatre her realm. Her beautiful arms shone white in the +flickering candle-light. Her sceptre was a rose which the King of England had +given her.</p> + +<p>Hart stepped back and looked upon the picture. “By heaven, Nell,” +he cried, “I spoke in anger. You are the most marvellous actress in the +world. Nature, art and genius crown your work.”</p> + +<p>Nell smiled at his vehemence. “I begin <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a +id='page_57'></a>57</span> to think that you have taste most excellent,” +she said.</p> + +<p>Hart sprang to her side, filled with hope. As the stage-lover he ne’er spoke +in tenderer tones. “Sweet Nell, when I found you in the pit, a ragged +orange-girl, I saw the sparkle in your eye, the bright intelligence, the magic +genius, which artists love. I claimed you for my art, which is the art of +arts–for it embraces all. I had the theatre. I gave it you. You captured +the Lane–then London. You captured my soul as well, and held it +slave.”</p> + +<p>“Did I do all that, dear Jack?” she asked, wistfully.</p> + +<p>“And more,” said Hart, rapturously. “You captured my years +to come, my hope, ambition, love–all. All centred in your heart and eyes, +sweet Nell, from the hour I first beheld you.”</p> + +<p>Nell’s look was far away. “Is love so beautiful?” she +murmured softly. Her eye fell upon her sceptre-rose. “Yea, I begin to +think it is.” She mused a moment, until the silence seemed to awaken her. +She looked into Hart’s eyes again, <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a +id='page_58'></a>58</span> sadly but firmly, then spoke as with an effort: +“You paint the picture well, dear Jack. Paint on.” Her hand waved +commandingly.</p> + +<p>“I could not paint ill with such a model,” said he, his voice +full of adoration.</p> + +<p>“Well said,” she replied; “and by my troth, I have relented +like you, dear Jack. I admit you too can act–and marvellously well.” +She took his trembling hand and descended from the throne. He tried once again +to embrace her, but she avoided him as before.</p> + +<p>“Is’t true?” he asked, eagerly, without observing the +hidden meaning in her voice.</p> + +<p>“’Tis true, indeed–with proper emphasis and proper art and proper +intonation.” She crossed the room, Hart following her.</p> + +<p>“I scarce can live for joy,” he breathed.</p> + +<p>Nell leaned back upon the table and looked knowingly and deeply into +Hart’s eyes. Her voice grew very low, but clear and full of meaning.</p> + +<p>“In faith,” she said, “I trow and sadly <span +class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_59'></a>59</span> speak but true; for I am +sad at times–yea–very sad–when I observe, with all my +woman’s wiles and arts, I cannot act the hypocrite like men.”</p> + +<p>“What mean you, darling cynic?” asked he, jocosely.</p> + +<p>“Darling!” she cried, repeating the word, with a peculiar look. +“To tell two girls within the hour you love each to the death would be in +me hypocrisy, I admit, beyond my art; but you men can do such things with +conscience clear.”</p> + +<p>Hart turned away his face. “She’s found me out,” he +thought.</p> + +<p>“Nell, I never loved the Spanish dancing-girl. You know I love but +you.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, ho!” laughed Nell. “Then why did you tell her +so?–to break her heart or mine?”</p> + +<p>The manager stood confused. He scarce knew what to say.</p> + +<p>“You are cruel, Nell,” he pleaded, fretfully. “You never +loved me, never.”</p> + +<p>“Did I ever say I did?”</p> + +<p>Hart shook his head sadly.</p> + +<p>“Come, don’t pout, Jack. An armistice <span class='pagenum +pncolor'><a id='page_60'></a>60</span> in this, my friend, for you were my +friend in the old days when I needed one, and I love you for that.” She +placed her hands kindly on the manager’s shoulders, then turned and began +to arrange anew the gift-flowers in the vase.</p> + +<p>“I’ll win your life’s love, Nell, in spite of you,” +he said, determinedly.</p> + +<p>She turned her honest eyes upon him. “Nay, do not try; believe me, do +not try,” she said softly.</p> + +<p>“Nell, you do not mean–?” His voice faltered.</p> + +<p>“You must not love me,” she said, firmly; “believe me, you +must not.”</p> + +<p>“I must not love you!” His voice scarcely breathed the words.</p> + +<p>“There, there; we are growing sentimental, Jack,–and at our +age,” she replied. She laughed gaily and started for her tiring-room.</p> + +<p>He followed her.</p> + +<p>“Sup with me, Nell,” he pleaded. “No word of this, I +promise you.”</p> + +<p>“Heyday, I’ll see how good you are, Jack,” she answered, +cordially.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_61'></a>61</span>“My second +bid to sup to-night,” she thought. “Who sets the better +feast?”</p> + +<p>The tiring-room door was open; and the little candles danced gleefully about +the make-up mirror, for even candles seemed happy when Nell came near. The maid +stood ready to assist her to a gown and wrap, that she might leave the +theatre.</p> + +<p>Nell turned. Hart still stood waiting. The spirit of kindness +o’er-mastered her.</p> + +<p>“Your hand, friend, your hand,” she said, taking the +manager’s hand. “When next you try to win a woman’s love, +don’t throw away her confidence; for you will never get it back again +entire.”</p> + +<p>Hart bowed his head under the rebuke; and she entered her room.</p> + +<hr class='pb' /> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_62'></a>62</span><a id='link_4'></a>CHAPTER IV</h2> + +<div class='center'> +<p class='center'><i>Flowers and Music feed naught but Love.</i></p> +</div><!-- centered --> + +<p>The manager stood a moment looking through the half-closed door at Nell. +There was a strange mingling of contending forces at work in his nature. To be +sure, he had trifled with the affections of the Spanish dancing-girl, a new +arrival from Madrid and one of the latest attractions of the King’s House; +but it was his pride, when he discovered that Nell’s sharp eyes had found +him out, that suffered, not his conscience. Was he not the fascinating +actor-manager of the House? Could he prevent the ladies loving him? Must he be +accused of not loving Nell, simply because his charms had edified the shapely +new-comer? Nell’s rebuke had depressed him, but there was a smouldering +fire within. “’Slife!” he muttered. “If I do not steal my way +into Nell’s heart, I’ll abandon the rouge-box and till the +soil.”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_63'></a>63</span>As he approached +his tiring-room, he bethought him that it would be well first to have an +oversight of the theatre. He turned accordingly and pulled open the door that +led to the stage.</p> + +<p>As he did so, a figure fell into the greenroom, grasping devotedly a violin, +lest his fall might injure it. Strings had been biding his time, waiting an +opportunity to see Nell, and had fallen asleep behind the door.</p> + +<p>“How now, dog!” exclaimed the manager when he saw who the +intruder was.</p> + +<p>Strings hastened to his feet and hobbled across the room.</p> + +<p>“I told you not to set foot here again,” shouted Hart, following +him virulently.</p> + +<p>Strings bowed meekly. “I thought the King’s House in need of a +player; so I came back, sir,” said he.</p> + +<p>Hart was instantly beside himself. “Zounds!” he stormed. “I +have had enough impudence to contend with to-night. Begone; or up you go for a +vagrant.”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_64'></a>64</span>“I called on +Mistress Gwyn, sir,” explained Strings.</p> + +<p>“Mistress Gwyn does not receive drunkards,” fiercely retorted +Hart; and he started hastily to the stage-door and called loudly for his force +of men to put the fiddler out.</p> + +<p>Nell’s door was still ajar. She had removed the roses from her hair and +dress. She caught at once her name. Indeed, there was little that went on which +Nell did not see or hear, even though walls intervened. “Who takes my name +in vain?” she called. Her head popped through the opening left by the +door, and she scanned the room.</p> + +<p>As her eye fell upon the old fiddler, who had often played songs and dances +for her in days gone by, a cry of joy came from her lips. She rushed into the +greenroom and threw both arms about Strings’s neck. “My old comrade, +as I live,” she cried, dancing about him. “I am joyed to see you, +Strings!”</p> + +<p>Turning, she saw the manager eying them with fiery glances. She knew the +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_65'></a>65</span> situation and the +feeling. “Jack, is it not good to have Strings back?” she asked, +sweetly.</p> + +<p>Hart’s face grew livid with anger. He could see the merry devil dancing +in her eye and on her tongue. He knew the hoyden well. “Gad, I will resign +management.” He turned on his heel, entered his tiring-room and closed the +door, none too gently. He feared to tarry longer, lest he might say too +much.</p> + +<p>Nell broke into a merry laugh; and the fiddler chuckled.</p> + +<p>“You desert me these days, Strings,” she said, as she leaned +against the table and fondly eyed the wayfarer of the tattered garments and +convivial spirits.</p> + +<p>“I don’t love your lackey-in-waiting, Mistress Nell,” said +he, with a wink in the direction of the departed manager.</p> + +<p>“Poor Jack. Never mind him,” she said, with a roguish laugh, +though with no touch of malice in it, for there was devil without malice in +Nell’s soul.</p> + +<p>As she again sought the eyes of the fiddler, her face grew thoughtful. She +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_66'></a>66</span> +spoke–hesitated–and then spoke again, as if the thought gave her +pain. “Have you kept your word to me, Strings, and +stopped–drinking?” she asked. The last word fell faintly, +tremblingly, from her lips–almost inaudibly.</p> + +<p>“Mistress Nell, I–I–” Strings’s eyes fell +quickly.</p> + +<p>Nell’s arm was lovingly about him in an instant. “There, there; +don’t tell me, Strings. Try again, and come and see me often.” There +was a delicacy in her voice and way more beautiful than the finest acting. The +words had hurt her more than him. She changed her manner in an instant.</p> + +<p>Not so with Strings. The tears were in his eyes. “Mistress Nell, you +are so good to me,” he said; “and I am such a wretch.”</p> + +<p>“So you are, Strings,” and she laughed merrily.</p> + +<p>“I have taught my little ones at home who it is that keeps the wolf +from our door,” he continued.</p> + +<p>“Not a word of that!” she exclaimed, <span class='pagenum +pncolor'><a id='page_67'></a>67</span> reprovingly. “Poor old +fellow!” Her eyes grew big and bright as she reflected on the days she had +visited the fiddler’s home and on the happiness her gifts had brought his +children. For her, giving was better than receiving. The feeling sprang from the +fulness of her own joy at seeing those about her happy, and not from the +teachings of priests or prelates. Dame Nature was her sole preceptor in +this.</p> + +<p>“I’ll bring the babes another sugar plum to-morrow. I +haven’t a farthing to-night. Moll ran away with the earnings, and there is +no one left to rob,” she said.</p> + +<p>“Heyday,” and she ran lightly to the vase and caught up the +flowers. “Take the flowers to the bright eyes, to make them +brighter.” They would at least add cheerfulness to the room where Strings +lived until she could bring something better.</p> + +<p>As she looked at the roses, she began to realize how dear they were becoming +to herself, for they were the King’s gift; and her heart beat quickly and +she touched the great red petals lovingly with her lips.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_68'></a>68</span>Strings took the +flowers awkwardly; and, as he did so, something fell upon the floor. He knelt +and picked it up, in his eagerness letting the roses fall.</p> + +<p>“A ring among the flowers, Mistress Nell,” he cried.</p> + +<p>“A ring!” she exclaimed, taking the jewel quickly. Her lips +pressed the setting. “Bless his heart! A ring from his finger,” she +continued half aloud. “Is it not handsome, Strings?” Her eyes +sparkled brightly and there was a triumphant smile upon her lips.</p> + +<p>The fiddler’s face, however, was grave; his eyes were on the floor.</p> + +<p>“How many have rings like that, while others starve,” he mused, +seriously.</p> + +<p>Nell held the jewel at arm’s length and watched its varying brightness +in the candle-light. “We can moralize, now we have the ring,” she +said, by way of rejoinder, then broke into a ringing laugh at her own +way-of-the-world philosophizing. “Bless the giver!” she added, in a +mood of rhapsody.</p> + +<p>She turned, only again to observe the <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a +id='page_69'></a>69</span> sad countenance of Strings. “Alack-a-day! Why +do you not take the nosegay?” she asked, wonderingly; for she herself was +so very happy that she could not see why Strings too should not be so.</p> + +<p>“It will not feed my little ones, Mistress Nell,” he answered, +sadly.</p> + +<p>Nell’s heart was touched in an instant. “Too true!” she +said, sympathetically, falling on her knee and lovingly gathering up the roses. +“Flowers and Music feed naught but Love, and often then Love goes +hungry–very hungry.” Her voice was so sweet and tender that it +seemed as though the old viol had caught the notes.</p> + +<p>“Last night, Mistress Nell,” said Strings, “the old fiddle +played its sweetest melody for them, but they cried as if their tiny hearts +would break. They were starving, and I had nothing but music for +them.”</p> + +<p>“Starving!” Nell listened to the word as though at first she did +not realize its meaning. “What can I send?” she cried, looking about +in vain and into her tiring-room.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_70'></a>70</span>Her eyes fell +suddenly upon the rich jewel upon her finger. “No, no; I cannot think of +that,” she thought.</p> + +<p>Then the word “starving” came back to her again with all its +force. “Starving!” Her imagination pictured all its horrors. +“Starving” seemed written on every wall and on the ceiling. It +pierced her heart and brain. “Yes, I will,” she exclaimed, wildly. +“Here, Strings, old fellow, take the ring to the babes, to cut their teeth +on.”</p> + +<p>Strings stood aghast. “No, Mistress Nell; it is a present. You must +not,” he protested.</p> + +<p>“There are others where that came from,” generously laughed +Nell.</p> + +<p>“You must not; you are too kind,” he continued, firmly.</p> + +<p>“Pooh, pooh! I insist,” said Nell as she forced the jewel upon +him. “It will make a pretty mouthful; and, besides, I do not want my +jewels to outshine me.”</p> + +<div class='figcenter'> +<a id='link_i4'></a><img src='images/nell-070.jpg' alt='' /> +<p class='center caption'> +NELL PREVENTS A QUARREL. +</p> +</div> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_71'></a>71</span>Strings would have +followed her and insisted upon her taking back the beautiful gift, but Nell was +gone in an instant and her door closed.</p> + +<p>“To cut their teeth on!” he repeated as he placed the jewelled +ring wonderingly upon his bow-finger and watched it sparkle and laugh in the +light as he pretended to play a tune. “She is always joking like that; +Heaven reward her.”</p> + +<p>He stood lost in the realization of sudden affluence.</p> + +<p>Buckingham entered the room from the stage-door. His eyes were full of +excitement. “The audience are wild over Nell, simply wild,” he +exclaimed in his enthusiasm, unconscious of the fact that he had an auditor, who +was equally oblivious of his lordship’s presence. “Gad,” he +continued, rapturously, half aloud, half to himself, “when they are +stumbling home through London fog, the great <i>comédienne</i> will be playing +o’er the love-scenes with Buckingham in a cosy corner of an inn. She will +not dare deny my bid to supper, with all her impudence. <i>Un petit +souper!</i>” He broke into a laugh. “Tis well Old Rowley was too +engaged <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_72'></a>72</span> to look +twice at Nelly’s eyes,” he thought. “His Majesty shall never +meet the wench at arm’s length, an I can help it.”</p> + +<p>He observed or rather became aware for the first time that there was another +occupant of the room.</p> + +<p>“Ah, sirrah,” he called, without noting the character of his +companion, “inform Mistress Nell, Buckingham is waiting.”</p> + +<p>Strings looked up. He seemed to have grown a foot in contemplation of his +sudden wealth. Indeed, each particular tatter on his back seemed to have assumed +an independent air.</p> + +<p>“Inform her yourself!” he declared; and his manner might well +have become the dress of Buckingham. “Lord Strings is not your lackey this +season.”</p> + +<p>Buckingham gazed at him in astonishment, followed by amusement. “Lord +Strings!” he observed. “Lord Rags!”</p> + +<p>Strings approached his lordship with a familiar, princely air. “How +does that look on my bow-finger, my lord?” and he <span class='pagenum +pncolor'><a id='page_73'></a>73</span> flourished his hand wearing the ring +where Buckingham could well observe it.</p> + +<p>His lordship started. “The King’s ring!” he would have +exclaimed, had not the diplomat in his nature restrained him. “A fine +stone!” he said merely. “How came you by it?”</p> + +<p>“Nell gave it to me,” Strings answered.</p> + +<p>Buckingham nearly revealed himself in his astonishment. “Nell!” +he muttered; and his face grew black as he wondered if his Majesty had +out-generalled him. “Damme,” he observed aloud, inspecting the ring +closely, “I have taken a fancy to this gem.”</p> + +<p>“So have I,” ejaculated Strings, as he avoided his lordship and +strutted across the room.</p> + +<p>“I’ll give you fifty guineas for it,” said Buckingham, +following him more eagerly than the driver of a good bargain is wont.</p> + +<p>Strings stood nonplussed. “Fifty guineas!” he exclaimed, aghast. +This was more money than the fiddler had ever thought existed. +“Now?” he asked, wonderingly.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_74'></a>74</span>“Now,” +replied his lordship, who proceeded at once to produce the glittering coins and +toss them temptingly before the fiddler’s eyes.</p> + +<p>“Oons, Nell surely meant me to sell it,” he cried as he eagerly +seized the gold and fed his eyes upon it. “Odsbud, I always did love +yellow.” He tossed some of the coins in the air and caught them with the +dexterity of a juggler.</p> + +<p>Buckingham grew impatient. He desired a delivery. “Give me the +ring,” he demanded.</p> + +<p>Strings looked once more at the glittering gold; and visions of the plenty +which it insured to his little home, to say nothing of a flagon or two of good +brown ale which could be had by himself and his boon comrades without +disparagement to the dinners of the little ones, came before him. If he had ever +possessed moral courage, it was gone upon the instant. “Done!” he +exclaimed. “Oons, fifty guineas!” and he handed the ring to +Buckingham.</p> + +<p>The fiddler was still absorbed in his possessions, whispering again and again +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_75'></a>75</span> to the round bits of +yellow: “My little bright-eyes will not go to bed hungry to-night!” +when Manager Hart entered proudly from his tiring-room, dressed to leave the +theatre.</p> + +<p>Buckingham nodded significantly. “Not a word of this,” he said, +indicating the ring, which he had quickly transferred to his own finger, turning +the jewel so that it could not be observed.</p> + +<p>“’Sdeath, you still here?” said Hart, sharply, as his eyes fell +upon the fiddler.</p> + +<p>Strings straightened up and puffed with the pomposity and pride of a landed +proprietor. He shook his newly acquired possessions until the clinking of the +gold was plainly audible to the manager.</p> + +<p>“Still here, Master Hart, negotiating. When you are pressed for coin, +call on me, Master Hart. I run the Exchequer,” he said, patronizingly. It +was humorous to see his air of sweeping condescension toward the tall and +dignified manager of the theatre who easily overtopped him by a head.</p> + +<p>“Gold!” exclaimed Hart, as he observed <span class='pagenum +pncolor'><a id='page_76'></a>76</span> the glitter of the guineas in the +candle-light. His eyes turned quickly and suspiciously upon the lordly +Buckingham.</p> + +<p>There was nothing, however, in his lordship’s face to indicate that he +was aware even of the existence of the fiddler or of his gold. He sat by the +table, leaning carelessly upon it, his face filled with an expression of supreme +satisfaction. He had the attitude of one who was waiting for somebody or +something and confidently expected not to be disappointed.</p> + +<p>“Sup with me, Hart,” continued Strings, with the air of a boon +comrade. “Sup with me–venison, capons, and–Epsom +water.”</p> + +<p>“Thank you, I am engaged to supper,” replied Hart, +contemptuously, brushing his cloak where it had been touched by the fiddler, as +if his fingers had contaminated it.</p> + +<p>The insult clearly observable in the manager’s tone, however, had no +effect whatever upon Strings. He tossed his head proudly and said indifferently: +“Oh, very well. Strings will sup with Strings. My <span class='pagenum +pncolor'><a id='page_77'></a>77</span> coach, my coach, I say. Drive me to my +bonnie babes!”</p> + +<p>He pushed open the door with a lordly air and passed out; and, for some +seconds, they heard a mingling of repeated demands for the coach and a strain of +music which sounded like “Away dull care; prythee away from me.”</p> + +<p>Buckingham had observed the fiddler’s tilt with the manager and the +royal exit of the ragged fellow with much amusement. “A merry wag! Who is +that?” he asked, as Strings’s voice grew faint in the entry-way.</p> + +<p>Hart was strutting actor-fashion before the mirror, arranging his curls to +hang gracefully over his forehead and tilting now and again the big plumed hat. +“A knave of fortune, it seems,” he answered coolly and still +suspiciously.</p> + +<p>“Family?” asked Buckingham, indifferently.</p> + +<p>“Twins, I warrant,” replied Hart, in an irritated tone.</p> + +<p>Buckingham chuckled softly.</p> + +<p>“No wonder he’s tattered and gray,” <span class='pagenum +pncolor'><a id='page_78'></a>78</span> he declared, humorously philosophizing +upon Hart’s reply, though it was evident that Hart himself was too much +chafed by the presence of his lordship in the greenroom after the play to know +what he really had said.</p> + +<p>An ominous coolness now pervaded the atmosphere. Buckingham sat by the table, +impatiently tapping the floor with his boot, his eyes growing dark at the delay. +Hart still plumed himself before the mirror. His dress was rich; his sword was +well balanced, a Damascus blade; his cloak hung gracefully; his big black hat +and plumes were jaunty. He had, too, vigour in his step. With it all, however, +he was a social outcast, and he felt it, while his companion, whose faults of +nature were none the less glaring than his own, was almost the equal of a +king.</p> + +<p>There was a tap at Nell’s door. It was the call-boy, who had slipped +unobserved into the room.</p> + +<p>“What is it, Dick?” asked Nell, sweetly, as she opened the door +slightly to inspect her visitor.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_79'></a>79</span>“A +message,–very important,” whispered Dick, softly, as he passed a +note within.</p> + +<p>“Thank you,” replied the actress; and the door closed again.</p> + +<p>Dick was about to depart, when the alert Buckingham, rising hastily from his +seat, called him.</p> + +<p>“That was Nell’s voice?” he asked.</p> + +<p>“Yes, my lord. She’s dressing,” answered Dick. “Good +night, Master Hart,” he added, as he saw the manager.</p> + +<p>Hart, however, was not in a good humour and turned sharply upon him. Dick +vanished.</p> + +<p>“She will be out shortly, my lord,” the manager observed to +Buckingham, somewhat coldly. “But it will do you little good,” he +thought, as he reflected upon his conversation with Nell.</p> + +<p>Buckingham leaned lazily over the back of a chair and replied confidently, +knowing that his speech would be no balm to the irate manager: “Nell +always keeps her engagements religiously with <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a +id='page_80'></a>80</span> me. We are to sup together to-night, Hart.”</p> + +<p>“Odso!” retorted the other, drawing himself up to his full +height. “You will be disappointed, methinks.”</p> + +<p>“I trow not,” Buckingham observed, with a smile which made Hart +wince. “Pepys’s wife has him mewed up at home when Nelly plays, and +the King is tied to other apron-strings.” His lordship chuckled as he +bethought him how cleverly he had managed that his Majesty be under the proper +influence. “What danger else?” he inquired, cuttingly.</p> + +<p>Though the words were mild, the feelings of the two men were at +white-heat.</p> + +<p>“Your lordship’s hours are too valuable to waste,” politely +suggested the manager. “I happen to know Mistress Gwyn sups with another +to-night.”</p> + +<p>“Another?” sneered his lordship.</p> + +<p>“Another!” hotly repeated the actor.</p> + +<p>“We shall see, friend Hart,” said Buckingham, in a tone no less +agreeable, with difficulty restraining his feelings.</p> + +<p>He threw himself impatiently into a <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a +id='page_81'></a>81</span> big arm-chair, which he had swung around angrily, so +that its back was to the manager.</p> + +<p>The insult was more than Hart could bear. He also seized a chair, and vented +his vengeance upon it. Almost hurled from its place, it fell back to back with +Buckingham’s.</p> + +<p>“We shall see, my lord,” he said as he likewise angrily took his +seat and folded his arms.</p> + +<p>It was like “The Schism” of Vibert.</p> + +<p>It is difficult to tell what would have been the result, had the place been +different. Each knew that Nell was just beyond her door; each hesitated; and +each, with bitterness in his heart, held on to himself. They sat like +sphinxes.</p> + +<p>Suddenly, Nell’s door slightly opened. She was dressed to leave the +theatre. In her hand she held a note.</p> + +<p>“A fair message, on my honour! Worth reading twice or even +thrice,” she roguishly exclaimed unto her maid as she directed her to hold +a candle nearer that she might once again spell out its <span class='pagenum +pncolor'><a id='page_82'></a>82</span> words. “‘To England’s idol, +the divine Eleanor Gwyn.’ A holy apt beginning, by the mass! ‘My coach +awaits you at the stage-door. We will toast you to-night at +Whitehall.’”</p> + +<p>Nell’s eyes seemed to drink in the words, and it was her heart which +said: “Long live his Majesty.”</p> + +<p>She took the King’s roses in her arms; the Duke’s roses, she +tossed upon the floor.</p> + +<p>The manager awoke as from a trance. “You will not believe me,” he +said to Buckingham, confidently. “Here comes the arbiter of your woes, my +lord.” He arose quickly.</p> + +<p>“It will not be hard, methinks, sir, to decide between a coronet and a +player’s tinsel crown,” observed his princely rival, with a sneer, +as he too arose and assumed an attitude of waiting.</p> + +<p>“Have a care, my lord. I may forget–” Hart’s fingers +played upon his sword-hilt.</p> + +<p>“Your occupation, sir?” jeered Buckingham.</p> + +<p>“Aye; my former occupation of a soldier”; and Hart’s sword +sprang from its <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_83'></a>83</span> +scabbard, with a dexterity that proved that he had not forgotten the trick of +war.</p> + +<p>Buckingham too would have drawn, but a merry voice stayed him.</p> + +<p>“How now, gentlemen?” sprang from Nell’s rosy lips, as she +came between them, a picture of roguish beauty.</p> + +<p>Hart’s pose in an instant was that of apology. “Pardon, +Nell,” he exclaimed, lifting his hat and bowing in courtly fashion. +“A small difference of opinion; naught else.”</p> + +<p>“Between friends,” replied Nell, reprovingly.</p> + +<p>“By the Gods,” cried Buckingham,–and his hat too was in the +air and his knee too was bent before the theatre-queen,–“the rewards +are worth more than word-combats.”</p> + +<p>“Pshaw!” said Nell, as she hugged the King’s roses tighter +in her arms. “True Englishmen fight shoulder to shoulder, not face to +face.”</p> + +<p>“In this case,” replied his lordship, with the air of a +conqueror, “the booty cannot be amicably distributed.”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_84'></a>84</span>“Oh, +ho!” cried Nell. “Brave generals, quarrelling over the spoils. Pooh! +There is no girl worth fighting for–that is, not over one! Buckingham! +Jack! For shame! What coquette kindles this hot blood?”</p> + +<p>“The fairest maid in England,” said Hart, with all the +earnestness of conviction, and with all the courtesy of the theatre, which +teaches courtesy.</p> + +<p>“The dearest girl in all this world,” said Buckingham as quickly; +for he too must bow if he would win.</p> + +<p>“How stupid!” lisped Nell, with a look of baby-innocence. +“You must mean me! Who else could answer the description? A quarrel over +poor me! This is delicious. I love a fight. Out with your swords and to’t +like men! To the victor! Come, name the quarrel.”</p> + +<p>“This player–” began his lordship, hotly. He caught the +quick gleam in Nell’s eyes and hesitated. “I mean,” he +substituted, apologetically, “Master Hart–labours under the +misapprehension that you sup with him to-night.”</p> + +<p>“Nell,” asserted the manager, defensively, <span class='pagenum +pncolor'><a id='page_85'></a>85</span> “it is his lordship who suffers +from the delusion that the first actress of England sups with him +to-night.”</p> + +<p>“My arm and coach are yours, madame,” pleaded his lordship, as he +gallantly offered an arm.</p> + +<p>“Pardon, my lord; Nell, my arm!” said Hart.</p> + +<p>“Heyday!” cried the witch, bewitchingly. “Was ever maid so +nobly squired? This is an embarrassment of riches.” She looked longingly +at the two attending gallants. There was something in her voice that might be +mockery or that might be love. Only the devil in her eyes could tell.</p> + +<p>“Gentlemen, you tear my heart-strings,” she continued. “How +can I choose between such loves? To-night, I sup at Whitehall!” and she +darted quickly toward the door.</p> + +<p>“Whitehall!” the rivals cried, aghast.</p> + +<p>“Aye, Whitehall–<i>with the King</i>!”</p> + +<p>There was a wild, hilarious laugh, and she was gone.</p> + +<p>Buckingham and Hart stood looking <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a +id='page_86'></a>86</span> into each other’s face. They heard the sound of +coach-wheels rapidly departing in the street.</p> + +<div class='figcenter'> +<a id='link_i5'></a><img src='images/nell-085.jpg' alt='' /> +<p class='center caption'> +MISTRESS NELL IS TOLD OF THE KING’S DANGER. +</p> +</div> + +<hr class='pb' /> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_87'></a>87</span><a id='link_5'></a>CHAPTER V</h2> + +<div class='center'> +<p class='center'><i>It was never treason to steal a King’s +kisses.</i></p> +</div><!-- centered --> + +<p>A year and more had flown.</p> + +<p>It was one of those glorious moon-lit nights in the early fall when there is +a crispness in the air which lends an edge to life.</p> + +<p>St. James’s Park was particularly beautiful. The giant oaks with their +hundreds of years of story written in their rings lifted high their spreading +branches, laden with leaves, which shimmered in the light. The historic old park +seemed to be made up of patches of day and night. In the open, one might read in +the mellow glow of the harvest-moon; in the shade of one of its oaks, a thief +might safely hide.</p> + +<p>Facing on the park, there stood a house of Elizabethan architecture. Along +its wrinkled, ivy-mantled wall ran a terrace-like balustrade, where one might +walk and enjoy the night without fear.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_88'></a>88</span>The house was well +defined by the rays of the moon, which seemed to dance upon it in a halo of +mirth; and from the park, below the terrace, came the soft notes of a violin, +tenderly picked.</p> + +<p>None other than Strings was sitting astride of a low branch of an oak, +looking up at a window, like some guardian spirit from the devil-land, singing +in his quaintly unctuous way:</p> + +<div class='poetry'> +<p><i>“Four and twenty fiddlers all in a row,<br /> And there was +fiddle-fiddle, and twice fiddle-fiddle.”</i></p> </div><!-- poetry --> + +<p>“How’s that for a serenade to Mistress Nell?” he asked +himself as he secured a firm footing on the ground and slung his fiddle over his +back. “She don’t know it’s for her, but the old viol and old +Strings know.” He came to a stand-still and winced. “Oons, my old +wound again,” he said, with a sharp cry, followed as quickly by a laugh. +His eyes still wandered along the balustrade, as eagerly as some young Romeo at +the balcony of his Juliet. “I wish she’d walk her terrace<span +class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_89'></a>89</span> to-night,” he sighed, +“where we could see her–the lovely lady!”</p> + +<p>His rhapsody was suddenly broken in upon by the approach of some one down the +path. He glided into the shadow of an oak and none too quickly.</p> + +<p>From the obscurity of the trees, into the open, a chair was swiftly borne, by +the side of which ran a pretty page of tender years, yet well schooled in +courtly wisdom. The lovely occupant leaned forward and motioned to the chairmen, +who obediently rested and assisted her to alight.</p> + +<p>“Retire beneath the shadow of the trees,” she whispered. +“Have a care; no noise.”</p> + +<p>The chairmen withdrew quietly, but within convenient distance, to await her +bidding.</p> + +<p>Strings’s heart quite stopped beating. “The Duchess of Portsmouth +at Mistress Nell’s!” he said, almost aloud in his excitement. +“Then the devil must be to pay!” and he slipped well behind the +oak-trunk again.</p> + +<p>Portsmouth’s eyes snapped with French <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a +id='page_90'></a>90</span> fire as she glanced up at Nell’s terrace. Then +she turned to the page by her side. “His Majesty came this path +before?” she asked, with quick, French accent.</p> + +<p>“Yes, your grace,” replied the page.</p> + +<p>“And up this trellis?”</p> + +<p>“Yes, your grace.”</p> + +<p>“Again to-night?”</p> + +<p>“I cannot tell, your grace,” replied the lad. “I followed +as you bade me; but the King’s legs were so long, you see, I lost +him.”</p> + +<p>Portsmouth smiled. “Softly, pretty one,” she said. “Watch +if he comes and warn me; for we may have passed him.”</p> + +<p>The lad ran gaily down the path to perform her bidding.</p> + +<p>“State-business!” she muttered, as she reflected bitterly upon +the King’s late excuses to her. “<i>Mon Dieu</i>, does he think me a +country wench? I was schooled at Louis’s court.” Her eyes searched +the house from various points of advantage. “A light!” she +exclaimed, as a candle burned brightly from a window, like a spark of gold set +in the silver of the night. <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a +id='page_91'></a>91</span> “Would I had an invisible cloak.” She +tiptoed about a corner of the wall–woman-like, to see if she could see, +not Nell, but Charles.</p> + +<p>Scarcely had she disappeared when a second figure started up in the +moonlight, and a gallant figure, too. It was the Duke of Buckingham. “Not +a mouse stirring,” he reflected, glancing at the terrace. “Fair +minx, you will not long refuse Buckingham’s overtures. Come, Nelly, thy +King is already half stolen away by Portsmouth of France, and Portsmouth of +France is our dear ally in the great cause and shall be more so.”</p> + +<p>To his astonishment, as he drew nearer, he observed a lady, richly dressed, +gliding between himself and the terrace. He rubbed his eyes to see that he was +not dreaming. She was there, however, and a pretty armful, too.</p> + +<p>“Nell,” he chuckled, as he stole up behind her.</p> + +<p>Portsmouth meanwhile had learned that the window was too high to allow her to +gain a view within the dwelling. <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a +id='page_92'></a>92</span> She started–observing, more by intuition than +by sight, that she was watched–and drew her veil closely about her +handsome features.</p> + +<p>“Nelly, Nelly,” laughed Buckingham, “I have thee, wench. +Come, a kiss!–a kiss! Nay, love; it was never treason to steal a +King’s kisses.”</p> + +<p>He seized her by the arm and was about to kiss her when she turned and threw +back her veil.</p> + +<p>“Buckingham!” she said, suavely.</p> + +<p>“Portsmouth!” he exclaimed, awestruck.</p> + +<p>He gathered himself together, however, in an instant, and added, as if +nothing in the world had happened: “An unexpected pleasure, your +grace.”</p> + +<p>“Yes,” said she, with a pretty shrug. “I did not know I was +so honoured, my lord.”</p> + +<p>“Or you would not have refused the little kiss?” he asked, +suggestively.</p> + +<p>“You called me ‘Nelly,’ my lord. I do not respond to that +name.”</p> + +<p>“Damme, I was never good at names, <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a +id='page_93'></a>93</span> Louise,” said he, with mock-apology, +“especially by moonlight.”</p> + +<p>“Buz, buz!” she answered, with a knowing gesture and a knowing +look. Then, pointing toward the terrace, she added: “A pretty nest! A +pretty bird within, I warrant. Her name?”</p> + +<p>“Ignorance well feigned,” he thought. He replied, however, most +graciously: “Nell Gwyn.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, ho! The King’s favourite, who has more power, they say, than +great statesmen–like my lord.”</p> + +<p>Her speech was well defined to draw out his lordship; but he was wary.</p> + +<p>“Unless my lord is guided by my lady, as formerly,” he replied, +diplomatically.</p> + +<p>A look of suspicion crept into Portsmouth’s face: but it was not +visible for want of contrast; for all things have a perverted look by the light +of the moon.</p> + +<p>She had known Buckingham well at Dover. Their interests there had been one in +securing privileges from England for her French King. Both had been well +rewarded too for their pains. There were <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a +id='page_94'></a>94</span> no proofs, however, of this; and where his lordship +stood to-day, and which cause he would espouse, she did not know. His eyes at +Dover had fallen fondly upon her, but men’s eyes fall fondly upon many +women, and she would not trust too much until she knew more.</p> + +<p>“My chairmen have set me down at the wrong door-step,” she said, +most sweetly. “My lord longs for his kiss. <i>Au revoir!</i>”</p> + +<p>She bowed and turned to depart.</p> + +<p>Buckingham was alert in an instant. He knew not when the opportunity might +come again to deal so happily with Louis’s emissary and the place and time +of meeting had its advantages.</p> + +<p>“Prythee stay, Duchess. I left the merry hunters, returning from +Hounslow Heath, all in Portsmouth’s interest,” he said. “Is +this to be my thanks?”</p> + +<p>She approached him earnestly. “My lord must explain. I am stupid in +fitting English facts to English words.”</p> + +<p>“Have you forgotten Dover?” he asked, intensely, but subdued in +voice, <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_95'></a>95</span> “and my +pledges sworn to?–the treaty at the Castle?–the Duchess of +Orléans?–the Grand Monarch?”</p> + +<p>“Hush!” exclaimed Portsmouth, clutching his arm and looking +cautiously about.</p> + +<p>“If my services to you there were known,” he continued, +excitedly, “and to the great cause–the first step in making England +pensioner of France and Holland the vassal of Louis–my head would pay the +penalty. Can you not trust me still?”</p> + +<p>“You are on strange ground to-night,” suggested Portsmouth, +tossing her head impatiently to indicate the terrace, as she tried to fathom the +real man.</p> + +<p>“I thought the King might pass this way, and came to see,” +hastily explained his lordship, observing that she was reflecting upon the +incongruity of his friendship for her and of his visit to Madame Gwyn.</p> + +<p>“And if he did?” she asked, dubiously, not seeing the +connection.</p> + +<p>“I have a plan to make his visits less <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a +id='page_96'></a>96</span> frequent, Louise,–for your sweet sake and +mine.”</p> + +<p>The man was becoming master. He had pleased her, and she was beginning to +believe.</p> + +<p>“Yes?” she said, in a way which might mean anything, but +certainly that she was listening, and intently listening too.</p> + +<p>“You have servants you can trust?” he asked.</p> + +<p>“I have,” she replied as quickly; and she gloried in the thought +that some at least were as faithful as Louis’s court afforded.</p> + +<p>“They must watch Nell’s terrace here, night and day,” he +almost commanded in his eagerness, “who comes out, who goes in and the +hour. She may forget her royal lover; and–well–we shall have +witnesses in waiting. We owe this kindness–to his Majesty.”</p> + +<p>Portsmouth shrugged her shoulders impatiently. “<i>Mon Dieu!</i>” +she said. “My servants have watched, my lord, already. The despatches +would have been signed <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a +id='page_97'></a>97</span> and Louis’s army on the march against the +Dutch but for this vulgar player-girl, whom I have never seen. The King forgets +all else.”</p> + +<p>The beautiful Duchess was piqued, indeed, that the English King should be so +swayed. She felt that it was a personal disgrace–an insult to her charms +and to her culture. She felt that the court knew it and laughed, and she feared +that Louis soon would know. Nell Gwyn! How she hated her–scarce less than +she loved Louis and her France.</p> + +<p>“Be of good cheer,” suggested Buckingham, soothingly; and he half +embraced her. “My messenger shall await your signal, to carry the news to +Louis and his army.”</p> + +<p>“There is no news,” replied she, and turned upon him bitterly. +“Charles evades me. Promise after promise to sup with me broken. I +expected him to-night. My spies warned me he would not come; that he is +hereabouts again. I followed myself to see. I have the papers with me always. If +I can but see the King alone, it will <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a +id='page_98'></a>98</span> not take long to dethrone this up-start queen; +wine, sweet words–England’s sign-manual.”</p> + +<p>There was a confident smile on her lips as she reflected upon her personal +powers, which had led Louis XIV. of France to entrust a great mission to her. +His lordship saw his growing advantage. He would make the most of it.</p> + +<p>“In the last event you have the ball!” he suggested, +hopefully.</p> + +<p>“Aye, and we shall be prepared,” she cried. “But Louis is +impatient to strike the blow for Empire unhampered by British sympathy for the +Dutch, and the ball is–”</p> + +<p>“A fortnight off,” interrupted Buckingham, with a smile.</p> + +<p>“And my messenger should be gone to-night,” she continued, +irritably. She approached him and whispered cautiously: “I have to-day +received another note from Bouillon. Louis relies upon me to win from Charles +his consent to the withdrawal of the British troops from Holland. This will +insure the fall of Luxembourg–the <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a +id='page_99'></a>99</span> key to our success. You see, Buckingham, I must not +fail. England’s debasement shall be won.”</p> + +<p>There was a whistle down the path.</p> + +<p>“Some one comes!” she exclaimed. “My chair!”</p> + +<p>The page, who had given the signal, came running to her. Her chairmen too +were prompt.</p> + +<p>“Join me,” she whispered to Buckingham, as he assisted her to her +seat within.</p> + +<p>“Later, Louise, later,” he replied. “I must back to the +neighbouring inn, before the huntsmen miss me.”</p> + +<p>Portsmouth waved to the chairmen, who moved silently away among the +trees.</p> + +<p>Buckingham stood looking after them, laughing.</p> + +<p>“King Charles, a French girl from Louis’s court will give me the +keys to England’s heart and her best honours,” he muttered.</p> + +<p>He glanced once again quickly at the windows of the house, and then, with +altered purpose, swaggered away down a <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a +id='page_100'></a>100</span> side path. He was well pleased with his thoughts, +well pleased with his chance interview with the beautiful Duchess and well +pleased with himself. His brain wove and wove moonbeam webs of intrigue as he +passed through the light and shadow of the night, wherein he would lend a +helping hand to France and secure gold and power for his pains. He had no qualms +of conscience; for must not his estates be kept, his dignity maintained? His +purpose was clear. He would bring Portsmouth and the King closer together: and +what England lost, he would gain–and, therefore, England; for was not he +himself a part of England, and a great part?</p> + +<p>Then too he must and would have Nell.</p> + +<hr class='pb' /> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_101'></a>101</span><a id='link_6'></a>CHAPTER VI</h2> + +<table summary='' class='c'><tr><td> +<p class='i'>“Softly on tiptoe;<br /> +    Here Nell doth lie.”</p> +</td></tr></table> + +<p>As often happens in life, when one suitor departs, another suitor knocks; and +so it happened on this glorious night. The belated suitor was none other than +Charles, the Stuart King. He seemed in the moonlight the picture of royalty, of +romance, of dignity, of carelessness, of indifference–the royal vagabond +of wit, of humour and of love. A well-thumbed “Hudibras” bulged from +his pocket. He was alone, save for some pretty spaniels that played about him. +He heeded them not. His thoughts were of Nell.</p> + +<p>“Methought I heard voices tuned to love,” he mused, as he glanced +about. “What knave has spied out the secret of her bower? Ho, Rosamond, my +Rosamond! Why came I here again to-night? What is there in this girl, this Nell? +And <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_102'></a>102</span> yet her eyes, +how like the pretty maid’s who passed me the cup that day at the cottage +where we rested. Have I lived really to love–I, Solomon’s rival in +the entertainment of the fair,–to have my heart-strings torn by this +roguish player?”</p> + +<p>His reflections were broken in upon by the hunters’ song in the +distance. The music was so in harmony with the night that the forest seemed +enchanted.</p> + +<p>“Hush; music!” he exclaimed, softly, as he lent himself +reluctantly to the spell, which pervaded everything as in a fairyland. +“Odds, moonlight was once for me as well the light for revels, bacchanals +and frolics; yet now I linger another evening by Nell’s terrace, mooning +like a lover o’er the memory of her eyes and entranced by the +hunters’ song.”</p> + +<p>The singers were approaching. The King stepped quickly beneath the trellis, +in an angle of the wall, and waited. Their song grew richer, as melodious as the +night, but it struck a discord in his soul. He was thinking of a pair of +eyes.</p> + +<div class='figcenter'> +<a id='link_i6'></a><img src='images/nell-102.jpg' alt='' /> +<p class='center caption'> +THE KING PROFESSES HIS LOVE FOR NELL. +</p> +</div> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_103'></a>103</span>“Cease +those discordant jangles,” he exclaimed impatiently to himself; +“cease, I say! No song except for Nell! Nell! Pour forth your sweetest +melody for Nell!”</p> + +<p>The hunters stopped as by intuition before the terrace. A goodly company they +were, indeed; there were James and Rochester and others of the court returning +from the day’s hunt. There was Buckingham too, who had rejoined them as +they left the inn. The music died away.</p> + +<p>“Whose voice was that?” asked James, as he caught the sound of +the King’s impatient exclamation from the corner of the wall.</p> + +<p>“Some dreamer of the night,” laughed Buckingham. “Yon +love-sick fellow, methinks,” he continued, pointing to a figure, well +aloof beneath the trees, who was watching the scene most jealously. It was none +other than Hart, who rarely failed to have an eye on Nell’s terrace and +who instantly stole away in the darkness.</p> + +<p>“This is the home of Eleanor Gwyn we are passing,” said +Rochester, superfluously; <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a +id='page_104'></a>104</span> for all knew full well that it was Nelly’s +terrace.</p> + +<p>“The love-lorn seer is wise,” cried the Duke of York, quite +forgetting his frigid self as he bethought him of Nell, and becoming quite +lover-like, as he, sighing, said: “It were well to make peace with Nelly. +Sing, hunters, sing!”</p> + +<p>The command was quickly obeyed and the voices well attuned; for none were +there but worshipped Nelly.</p> + +<div class='poetry'> +<p><i>Hail to the moonbeams’<br /> Crystal spray,<br /> +Nestling in Heaven<br /> All the day,<br /> Falling by +night-time,<br /> Silvery showers,<br /> Twining with +love-rhyme<br /> Nell’s fair bowers.<br />  <br /> +Sing, hunters, sing,<br /> Gently carolling,<br /> Here lies our +hart–<br /> Sleeping, sleeping, sleeping.<br /> + <br /> Hail to the King’s oaks,<br /> Sentries +blest,</i><br /> <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a +id='page_105'></a>105</span> <i>Spreading their branches,<br /> + Guarding her rest,<br /> Telling the breezes,<br /> + Hastening by:<br /> “Softly on tiptoe;<br /> + Here Nell doth lie.”</i><br />  <br /> <i>Sing, +hunters, sing,<br /> Gently carolling,<br /> Here lies our +hart–<br /> Sleeping, sleeping, sleeping.</i></p> </div><!-- +poetry --> + +<p>The King heard the serenade to the end, then stepped gaily from his +hiding-place.</p> + +<p>“Brother James under Nelly’s window!” he said, with a merry +laugh.</p> + +<p>“The King!” exclaimed James, in startled accents, as he realized +the presence of his Majesty and the awkward position in which he and his +followers were placed.</p> + +<p>“The King!” repeated the courtiers. Hats were off and knees were +bent respectfully.</p> + +<p>“Brother,” saluted Charles, as he embraced the Duke of York +good-naturedly.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_106'></a>106</span>Buckingham +withdrew a few steps. He was the most disturbed at the presence of the King at +Nelly’s bower. “As I feared,” he thought. “Devil take +his Majesty’s meandering heart.”</p> + +<p>“Odsfish,” laughed Charles, “we must guard our Nelly, or +James and his saintly followers will rob her bower by moonlight.”</p> + +<p>The Duke of York assumed a devout and dignified mien. “Sire,” he +attempted to explain, but was interrupted quickly by his Majesty.</p> + +<p>“No apologies, pious brother. God never damned a man for a little +irregular pleasure.”</p> + +<p>There was a tittering among the courtiers as the King’s words fell upon +their ears.</p> + +<p>James continued to apologize. “In faith, we were simply +passing–” he said.</p> + +<p>Again he was interrupted by his Majesty, who was in the best of humour and +much pleased at the discomfiture of his over-religious brother.</p> + +<p>“Lorenzo too was simply passing,” <span class='pagenum +pncolor'><a id='page_107'></a>107</span> he observed, “but the fair +Jessica and some odd ducats stuck to his girdle; and the Jew will still be +tearing his hair long after we are dust. Ah, Buckingham, they tell me you too +have a taste for roguish Nelly. Have a care!”</p> + +<p>The King strode across to Buckingham as he spoke; and while there was humour +in his tone, there was injunction also.</p> + +<p>Buckingham was too great a courtier not to see and feel it. He bowed +respectfully, replying to his Majesty, “Sire, I would not presume to +follow the King’s eyes, however much I admire their taste.”</p> + +<p>“’Tis well,” replied his Majesty, pointedly, “lest they +lead thee abroad on a sleeveless mission.”</p> + +<p>Others had travelled upon such missions; Buckingham knew it well.</p> + +<p>“But what does your Majesty here to-night, if we dare ask?” +questioned James, who had just bethought him how to turn the tables upon the +King.</p> + +<p>Charles looked at his brother quizzically. “Humph!” he exclaimed, +in his peculiar way. “Feeding my ducks in yonder <span class='pagenum +pncolor'><a id='page_108'></a>108</span> pond.” His staff swept +indefinitely toward the park.</p> + +<p>“Hunting with us were nobler business, Sire,” suggested James, +decisively.</p> + +<p>“Not so,” replied the King, quite seriously. “My +way–I learn to legislate for ducks.”</p> + +<p>“’T'were wiser,” preached York, “to study your +subjects’ needs.”</p> + +<p>The King’s eyes twinkled. “I go among them,” he said, +“and learn their needs, while you are praying, brother.”</p> + +<p>At this sally, Rochester became convulsed, though he hid it well; for +Rochester was not as pious as brother James.</p> + +<p>York, feeling that the sympathy was against him, grew more earnest still. +“I wish your Majesty would have more care,” he pleaded. “’Tis +a crime against yourself, a crime against the state, a crime against the +cavaliers who fought and died for you, to walk these paths alone in such +uncertain times. Perchance, ’tis courting lurking murder!”</p> + +<p>“No kind of danger, James,” answered the King, with equal +seriousness, laying <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a +id='page_109'></a>109</span> a hand kindly on his brother’s shoulder; +“for I am sure no man in England would take away my life to make you +King.”</p> + +<p>There was general laughter from the assembled party; for all dared laugh, +even at the expense of the Duke of York, when the jest was of the King’s +making. Indeed, not to laugh at a king’s jest has been in every age, in or +out of statutes, the greatest crime. Fortunately, King Charles’s wit +warranted its observation.</p> + +<p>James himself grew mellow under the influence of the gaiety, and almost +affectionately replied, “God grant it be ever so, brother.” He then +turned the thought. “We heard but now an ambassador from Morocco’s +court is lately landed. He brings your Majesty two lions and thirty +ostriches.”</p> + +<p>“Odsfish, but he is kind,” replied the King, reflecting on the +gift. “I know of nothing more proper to send by way of return than a flock +of geese.”</p> + +<p>His brow arched quizzically, as he glanced over the circle of inert courtiers +ranged about him. “Methinks I can count <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a +id='page_110'></a>110</span> them out at Whitehall,” he thought.</p> + +<p>“He seeks an audience to-night. Will you grant it, Sire?” +besought James.</p> + +<p>“’Sheart!” replied the King. “Most cheerfully, I’ll +lead you from Nelly’s terrace, brother. Hey! Tune up your throats. On to +the palace.”</p> + +<hr class='pb' /> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_111'></a>111</span><a id='link_7'></a>CHAPTER VII</h2> + +<table summary='' class='c'><tr><td> +<p class='i'>“Come down!<br /> +Come up!”</p> +</td></tr></table> + +<p>The music died away among the old oaks in the park. Before its final notes +were lost on the air, however, hasty steps and a chatter of women’s voices +came from the house. The door leading to the terrace was thrown quickly open, +and Nell appeared. Her eyes had the bewildered look of one who has been suddenly +awakened from a sleep gilded with a delightful dream.</p> + +<p>She had, indeed, been dreaming–dreaming of the King and of his coming. +As she lay upon her couch, where she had thrown herself after the evening meal, +she had seemed to hear his serenade.</p> + +<p>Then the music ceased and she started up and rubbed her eyes. It was only to +see the moonlight falling through the latticed windows on to the floor of her +dainty <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_112'></a>112</span> chamber. +She was alone and she bethought herself sadly that dreams go by contraries.</p> + +<p>Once again, however, the hunters’ song had arisen on her startled +ear–and had died away in sweet cadences in the distance. It was not a +dream!</p> + +<p>As she rushed out upon the terrace, she called Moll reprovingly; and, in an +instant, Moll was at her side. The faithful girl had already seen the hunters +and had started a search for Nell; but the revellers had gone before she could +find her.</p> + +<p>“What is it, dear Nell?” asked her companion, well out of +breath.</p> + +<p>“Why did you not call me, cruel girl?” answered Nell, +impatiently. “To miss seeing so many handsome cavaliers! Where is my +kerchief?”</p> + +<p>Nell leaned over the balustrade and waved wildly to the departing hunters. A +pretty picture she was too, in her white flowing gown, silvered by the +moonlight.</p> + +<p>“See, see,” she exclaimed to Moll, with wild enthusiasm, +“some one waves back. It may be he, sweet mouse. Heigh-ho! Why don’t +you wave, Moll?”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_113'></a>113</span>Before Moll +could answer, a rich bugle-horn rang out across the park.</p> + +<p>“The hunters’ horn!” cried Nell, gleefully. “Oh, I +wish I were a man–except when one is with me”; and she threw both +arms about Moll, for the want of one better to embrace. She was in her varying +mood, which was one ’twixt the laughter of the lip and the tear in the eye.</p> + +<p>“I have lost my brother!” ejaculated some one; but she heard him +not.</p> + +<p>This laconic speech came from none other than the King, who in a bantering +mood had returned.</p> + +<p>“I went one side a tree and pious James t’other; and here I am by +Nelly’s terrace once again,” he muttered. “Oh, ho! +wench!” His eyes had caught sight of Nell upon the terrace.</p> + +<p>He stepped back quickly into the shadow and watched her playfully.</p> + +<p>Nell looked longingly out into the night, and sighed heavily. She was at her +wit’s end. The evening was waning, and the King, as she thought, had not +come.</p> + +<p>“Why do you sigh?” asked Moll, consolingly.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_114'></a>114</span>“I was +only looking down the path, dear heart,” replied Nell, sadly.</p> + +<p>“He will come,” hopefully suggested Moll, whose little heart +sympathized deeply with her benefactress.</p> + +<p>“Nay, sweet,” said Nell, and she shook her curls while the +moonbeams danced among them, “he is as false as yonder moon–as +changeable of face.”</p> + +<p>She withdrew her eyes from the path and they fell upon the King. His +Majesty’s curiosity had quite over-mastered him, and he had inadvertently +stepped well into the light. The novelty of hearing himself derided by such +pretty lips was a delicious experience, indeed.</p> + +<p>“The King!” she cried, in joyous surprise.</p> + +<p>Moll’s diplomatic effort to escape at the sight of his Majesty was not +half quick enough for Nell, who forthwith forced her companion into the house, +and closed the door sharply behind her, much to the delight of the humour-loving +King.</p> + +<p>Nell then turned to the balustrade and, somewhat confused, looked down at his +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_115'></a>115</span> Majesty, who now +stood below, calmly gazing up at her, an amused expression on his face.</p> + +<p>“Pardon, your Majesty,” she explained, falteringly, “I did +not see you.”</p> + +<p>“You overlooked me merely,” slyly suggested Charles, swinging his +stick in the direction of the departed hunters.</p> + +<p>“I’faith, I thought it was you waved answer, Sire,” quickly +replied Nell, whose confusion was gone and who was now mistress of the situation +and of herself.</p> + +<p>“No, Nell; I hunt alone for my hart.”</p> + +<p>“You hunt the right park, Sire.”</p> + +<p>“Yea, a good preserve, truly,” observed the King. “I find +my game, as I expected, flirting, waving kerchiefs, making eyes and throwing +kisses to the latest passer-by.”</p> + +<p>“I was encouraging the soldiers, my liege. That is every woman’s +duty to her country.”</p> + +<p>“And her country<i>men</i>,” said he, smiling. “You are +very loyal, Nell. Come down!” It was irritating, indeed, to be kept so at +arm’s length.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_116'></a>116</span>She gazed down +at him with impish sweetness–down at the King of England!</p> + +<p>“Come up!” she said, leaning over the balustrade.</p> + +<p>“Nay; come down if you love me,” pleaded the King.</p> + +<p>“Nay; come up if you love me,” said Nell, enticingly.</p> + +<p>“Egad! I am too old to climb,” exclaimed the Merry Monarch.</p> + +<p>“Egad! I am too young yet for the downward path, your Majesty,” +retorted Nell.</p> + +<p>The King shrugged his shoulders indifferently.</p> + +<p>“You will fall if we give you time,” he said.</p> + +<p>“To the King’s level?” she asked, slyly, then answered +herself: “Mayhap.”</p> + +<p>Thus they stood like knights after the first tilt. Charles looked up at Nell, +and Nell looked down at Charles. There was a moment’s silence. Nell broke +it.</p> + +<p>“I am surprised you happen this way, Sire.”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_117'></a>117</span>“With such +eyes to lure me?” asked the King, and he asked earnestly too.</p> + +<p>“Tush,” answered Nell, coyly, “your tongue will lead you to +perdition, Sire.”</p> + +<p>“No fear!” replied he, dryly. “I knelt in church with +brother James but yesterday.”</p> + +<p>“In sooth, quite true!” said Nell, approvingly, as she leaned +back against the door and raised her eyes innocently toward the moon. “I +sat in the next pew, Sire, afraid to move for fear I might awake your +Majesty.”</p> + +<p>The King chuckled softly to himself. Nell picked one of the flowers that grew +upon the balustrade.</p> + +<p>“Ah, you come a long-forgotten path to-night,” she said +abruptly.</p> + +<p>The King was alert in an instant. He felt that he had placed himself in a +false light. He loved the witch above despite himself.</p> + +<p>“I saw thee twa evenings ago, lass,” he hastily asserted, in good +Scotch accents, somewhat impatiently.</p> + +<p>“And is not that a long time, Sire,” <span class='pagenum +pncolor'><a id='page_118'></a>118</span> questioned Nell, “or did +Portsmouth make it fly?”</p> + +<p>“Portsmouth!” exclaimed Charles. He turned his face away. +“Can it be my conscience pricks me?” he thought. “You know +more of her than I, sweet Nell,” he then asserted, with open manner.</p> + +<p>“Marry, I know her not at all and never saw her,” said Nell. +“I shall feel better when I do,” she thought.</p> + +<p>“It were well for England’s peace you have not met,” +laughed Charles.</p> + +<p>“Faith and troth,” said Nell, “I am happy to know our King +has lost his heart.”</p> + +<p>“Odso! And why?” asked Charles; and he gazed at Nell in his +curious uncertain way, as he thought it was never possible to tell quite what +she meant or what she next would think or say or do.</p> + +<p>“We feared he had not one to lose,” she slyly suggested. +“It gives us hope.”</p> + +<p>“To have it in another’s hand as you allege?” asked +Charles.</p> + +<p>“Marry, truly!” answered Nell, decisively. “The Duchess may +find it more <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_119'></a>119</span> than +she can hold and toss it over.”</p> + +<p>“How now, wench!” exclaimed the King, with assumption of wounded +dignity. “My heart a ball for women to bat about!”</p> + +<p>“Sire, two women often play at rackets even with a king’s +heart,” softly suggested Nell.</p> + +<p>“Odsfish,” cried the King, with hands and eyes raised in mock +supplication. “Heaven help me then.”</p> + +<p>Again the hunters’ horn rang clearly on the night.</p> + +<p>“The horn! The horn!” said Nell, with forced indifference. +“They call you, Sire.”</p> + +<p>There was a triumphantly bewitching look in her eyes, however, as she +realized the discomfiture of the King. He was annoyed, indeed. His manner +plainly betokened his desire to stay and his irritation at the interruption.</p> + +<p>“’Tis so!” he said at last, resignedly. “The King is +lost.”</p> + +<p>The horn sounded clearer. The hunters were returning.</p> + +<p>“Again–nearer!” exclaimed Charles, <span class='pagenum +pncolor'><a id='page_120'></a>120</span> fretfully. His mind reverted to his +pious brother; and he laughed as he continued: “Poor brother James and his +ostriches!”</p> + +<p>He could almost touch Nell’s finger-tips.</p> + +<p>“Farewell, sweet,” he said; “I must help them find his +Majesty or they will swarm here like bees. Yet I must see my Nell again +to-night. You have bewitched me, wench. Sup with me within the +hour–at–Ye Blue Boar Inn. Can you find the place?”</p> + +<p>There was mischief in Nell’s voice as she leaned upon the balustrade. +She dropped a flower; he caught it.</p> + +<p>“Sire, I can always find a rendezvous,” she answered.</p> + +<p>“You’re the biggest rogue in England,” laughed Charles.</p> + +<p>“Of a <i>subject</i>, perhaps, Sire,” replied Nell, +pointedly.</p> + +<p>“That is treason, sly wench,” rejoined the King; but his voice +grew tender as he added: “but treason of the tongue and not the heart. +Adieu! Let that seal thy lips, until we meet.”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_121'></a>121</span>He threw a kiss +to the waiting lips upon the balcony.</p> + +<p>“Alack-a-day,” sighed Nell, sadly, as she caught the kiss. +“Some one may break the seal, my liege; who knows?”</p> + +<p>“How now?” questioned Charles, jealously.</p> + +<p>Nell hugged herself as she saw his fitful mood; for beneath mock jealousy she +thought she saw the germ of true jealousy. She laughed wistfully as she +explained: “It were better to come up and seal them tighter, +Sire.”</p> + +<p>“Minx!” he chuckled, and tossed another kiss.</p> + +<p>The horn again echoed through the woods. He started.</p> + +<p>“Now we’ll despatch the affairs of England, brother; then +we’ll sup with pretty Nelly. Poor brother James! Heaven bless him and his +ostriches.”</p> + +<p>He turned and strode quickly through the trees and down the path; but, as he +went, ever and anon he called: “Ye Blue Boar Inn, within the +hour!”</p> + +<p>Each time from the balcony in Nell’s <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a +id='page_122'></a>122</span> sweet voice came back–“Ye Blue Boar +Inn, within the hour! I will not fail you, Sire!”</p> + +<p>Then she too disappeared. There was again a slamming of doors and much +confusion within the house. There were calls and sounds of running feet.</p> + +<p>The door below the terrace opened suddenly, and Nell appeared breathless upon +the lawn–at her heels the constant Moll. Nell ran some steps down the +path, peering vainly through the woods after the departing King. Her bosom rose +and fell in agitation.</p> + +<p>“Oh, Moll, Moll, Moll!” she exclaimed, fearfully. “He has +been at Portsmouth’s since high noon. I could see it in his eyes.” +Her own eyes snapped as she thought of the hated French rival, whom she had not +yet seen, but whose relation to the royal household, as she thought, gave her +the King’s ear almost at will.</p> + +<p>She walked nervously back and forth, then turned quickly upon her companion, +asking her, who knew nothing, a hundred questions, all in one little breath. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_123'></a>123</span> “What is +she? How looks she? What is her charm, her fascination, the magic of her art? Is +she short, tall, fat, lean, joyous or sombre? I must know.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, Nell, what will you do?” cried Moll in fearful accents as +she watched her beautiful mistress standing passion-swayed before her like a +queen in the moonlight, the little toe of her slipper nervously beating the +sward as she general-like marshalled her wits for the battle.</p> + +<p>“See her, see her,–from top to toe!” Nell at length +exclaimed. “Oh, there will be sport, sweet mouse. France again against +England–the stake, a King!”</p> + +<p>She glanced in the direction of the house and cried joyously as she saw +Strings hobbling toward her.</p> + +<p>“Heaven ever gave me a man in waiting,” she said, gleefully. +“Poor fellow, he limps from youthful, war-met wounds. Comrade, are you +still strong enough for service?”</p> + +<p>“To the death for you, Mistress Nell!” he faithfully replied.</p> + +<p>“You know the Duchess of Portsmouth, <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a +id='page_124'></a>124</span> and where she lives?” artfully inquired +Nell.</p> + +<p>“Portsmouth!” he repeated, excitedly. “She was here but +now, peeping at your windows.”</p> + +<p>Nell stood aghast. Her face grew pale, and her lips trembled.</p> + +<p>“Here, here!” she exclaimed, incredulously. “The imported +hussy!”</p> + +<p>She turned hotly upon Strings, as she had upon poor Moll, with an array of +questions which almost paralyzed the old fiddler’s wits. “How looks +she? What colour eyes? Does her lip arch? How many inches span her +waist?”</p> + +<p>Strings looked cautiously about, then whispered in Nell’s ear. He might +as well have talked to all London; for Nell, in her excitement, repeated his +words at the top of her voice.</p> + +<p>“You overheard? Great Heavens! Drug the King and win the rights of +England while he is in his cups? Bouillon–the army–Louis–the +Dutch! A conspiracy!”</p> + +<p>“Oh, dear; oh, dear,” came from Moll’s <span class='pagenum +pncolor'><a id='page_125'></a>125</span> trembling lips.</p> + +<p>Nell’s wits were like lightning playing with the clouds. Her plans were +formed at once.</p> + +<p>“Fly, fly, comrade,” she commanded Strings. “Overtake her +chair. Tell the Duchess that her beloved Charles–she will +understand–entreats her to sup at Ye Blue Boar Inn, within the hour. Nay, +she will be glad enough to come. Say he awaits her alone. Run, run, good +Strings, and you shall have a hospital to nurse these wounds, as big as +Noah’s ark; and the King shall build it for the message.”</p> + +<p>Strings hastened down the path, fired by Nell’s inspiration, with +almost the eagerness of a boy.</p> + +<p>“Run, run!” cried Nell, in ecstasy, as she looked after him and +dwelt gleefully upon the outcome of her plans.</p> + +<p>He disappeared through the trees.</p> + +<p>“Heigh-ho!” she said, with a light-hearted step. “Now, +Moll, we’ll get our first sight of the enemy.”</p> + +<p>She darted into the house, dragging poor Moll after her.</p> + +<hr class='pb' /> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_126'></a>126</span><a id='link_8'></a>CHAPTER VIII</h2> + +<div class='center'> +<p class='center'><i>“And the man that is drunk is as great as a +king.”</i></p> +</div><!-- centered --> + +<p>An old English inn! What spot on earth is more hospitable, even though its +floor be bare and its tables wooden? There is a homely atmosphere about it, with +its cobwebbed rafters, its dingy windows, its big fireplace, where the rough +logs crackle, and its musty ale. It has ever been a home for the belated +traveller, where the viands, steaming hot, have filled his soul with joy. Oh, +the Southdown mutton and the roasts of beef!</p> + +<p>If England has given us naught else, she should be beloved for her wealth of +inns, with their jolly landlords and their pert bar-maids and their lawns for +the game of bowls. May our children’s children find them still +unchanged.</p> + +<p>In a quaint corner of London, there stood such an inn, in the days of which +we speak; and it lives in our story. When <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a +id='page_127'></a>127</span> it was built, no one knew and none cared. Tradition +said that it had been a rendezvous for convivial spirits for ages that had gone. +A sign hung from the door, on which was a boar’s head; and under it, in +Old English lettering, might have been deciphered, if the reader had the wit to +read, “Ye Blue Boar Inn.”</p> + +<p>It was the evening of a certain day, known to us all, in the reign of good +King Charles. Three yesty spirits sat convivially enjoying the warmth of the +fire upon the huge hearth. A keg was braced in the centre of the room. One of +the merry crew–none other, indeed, than Swallow, a constable to the +King–sat astride the cask, Don Quixote-like. In place of the dauntless +lance, he was armed with a sturdy mug of good old ale. He sang gaily to a tune +of his own, turning ever and anon for approbation to Buzzard, another spirit of +like guild, who sat in a semi-maudlin condition by the table, and also to the +moon-faced landlord of the inn, who encouraged the joviality of his +guests–not forgetting to count <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a +id='page_128'></a>128</span> the cups which they demolished.</p> + +<p>Swallow sang:</p> + +<div class='poetry'> +<p><i>“Here’s a health unto his Majesty, with a fa, la, fa,<br /> +Conversion to his enemies with a fa, la, fa,<br /> And he that will not pledge +his health,<br /> I wish him neither wit nor wealth,<br /> Nor yet a rope to +hang himself–<br /> + With a fa, la, +fa,<br /> With a +fa, la, fa.”</i></p> </div><!-- poetry --> + +<p>The song ended in a triumphant wave of glory. The singer turned toward the +fellow, Buzzard, and demanded indignantly:</p> + +<p>“Why don’t ye sing, knave, to the tune of the spigot?”</p> + +<p>“My gullet’s dry, Master Constable,” stupidly explained his +companion, as he too buried his face in the ale.</p> + +<p>“Odsbud, thou knowest not the art, thou clod,” retorted the +constable, wisely.</p> + +<p>“Nay; I can sing as well as any man,” answered Buzzard, +indignantly, “an I know when to go up and when to come down.” He +pointed stupidly, contrary to the phrase, first to the floor and then to the +ceiling.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_129'></a>129</span>The landlord +chuckled merrily, imitating him. “When to go up and when to come +down!” he repeated with the same idiotic drawl and contradictory +gesture.</p> + +<p>“Go to, simple,” replied Swallow, with tremendous condescension +of manner. “Thy mother gave thee a gullet but no ear. Pass the +schnapps.”</p> + +<p>He arose and staggered to the table.</p> + +<p>“Good Master Constable, how singest thou?” sheepishly inquired +Buzzard, as he filled Swallow’s tankard for the twentieth time.</p> + +<p>“Marry, by main force, thou jack-pudding; how else?” demanded +Swallow, pompously. He reseated himself with much effort astride the cask. +“Oh, bury me here,” he continued, looking into the foaming mug, and +then buried his face deep in the ale.</p> + +<p>His companions were well pleased with the toast; for each repeated it after +him, each in his turn emphasizing the “me” and the +“here”–“Oh, bury <i>me here!”</i> “Oh, bury +<i>me here!</i>”–Buzzard in a voice many tones deeper than that of +Swallow <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_130'></a>130</span> and the +landlord in a voice many tones deeper than that of Buzzard. Indeed, the guttural +tones of the landlord bespoke the grave-yard.</p> + +<p>The three faces were lost in the foam; the three sets of lips smacked in +unison; and the world might have wagged as it would for these three jolly topers +but for a woman’s voice, calling sharply from the kitchen:</p> + +<p>“Jenkins, love!”</p> + +<p>“Body o’ me!” exclaimed the landlord, almost dropping his +empty tankard. “Coming, coming, my dear!” and he departed +hastily.</p> + +<p>The constable poked Buzzard in the ribs; Buzzard poked the constable in the +ribs.</p> + +<p>“Jenkins, love!” they exclaimed in one breath as the landlord +returned, much to his discomfiture; and their eyes twinkled and wrinkled as they +poked fun at the taverner.</p> + +<p>“Body o’ me! Thou sly dog!” said the constable, as he +continued to twit him. “Whence came the saucy wench in <span +class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_131'></a>131</span> the kitchen, landlord? A +dimpled cook, eh?”</p> + +<p>The landlord’s face grew serious with offended dignity as he attempted +to explain.</p> + +<p>“’Tis my wife, Master Constable,” he said.</p> + +<p>“Marry, the new one?” inquired Swallow.</p> + +<p>“’Tis not the old one, Master Swallow,” replied the old +hypocrite, wiping away a forced tear. “Poor soul, she’s gone, I know +not where.”</p> + +<p>“I’ faith, I trow she’s still cooking, landlord,” +consolingly replied the constable, with tearful mien, pointing slyly downward +for the benefit of Buzzard and steadying himself with difficulty on the +cask.</p> + +<p>“Bless Matilde,” said the landlord as he wiped his eyes again, +“I had a hard time to fill her place.”</p> + +<p>“Yea, truly,” chuckled Swallow in Buzzard’s ear, between +draughts, “three long months from grave to altar.”</p> + +<p>“A good soul, a good soul, Master <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a +id='page_132'></a>132</span> Swallow,” continued the landlord, with the +appearance of deep affliction.</p> + +<p>“And a better cook, landlord,” said Swallow, sadly. +“Odsbud, she knew a gooseberry tart. Patch your old wife’s soul to +your new wife’s face, and you’ll be a happy man, landlord. +Here’s a drop to her.”</p> + +<p>“Thank ye, Master Constable,” replied the landlord, much +affected. He looked well to the filling of the flagon in his hand, again wiped a +tear from his eye and took a deep draught to the pledge of</p> + +<p>“The old one!”</p> + +<p>Swallow, with equal reverence, and with some diplomacy, placed his flagon to +his lips with the pledge of</p> + +<p>“The new one!”</p> + +<p>Buzzard, who had not been heard from for some time, roused sufficiently to +realize the situation, and broke out noisily on his part with</p> + +<p>“The next one!”</p> + +<p>A startled expression pervaded the landlord’s face as he realized the +meaning of Buzzard’s words. He glanced woefully <span class='pagenum +pncolor'><a id='page_133'></a>133</span> toward the kitchen-door, lest the new +wife might have overheard.</p> + +<p>“Peace, Buzzard!” Swallow hastened to command, reprovingly. +“Would ye raise a man’s dead wife? Learn discretion from thy elders, +an thou hop’st to be a married man.”</p> + +<p>“Marry, I do not hope,” declared Buzzard, striking the table with +his clenched hand. He had no time for matrimony while the cups were +overflowing.</p> + +<p>There was a quick, imperative knock at the door. The constable, Buzzard and +the landlord, all started up in confusion and fear.</p> + +<p>“Thieves,” stammered Swallow, faintly, from behind the cask, from +which he had dismounted at the first sign of danger. “They are making off +with thy tit-bit-of-a-wife, landlord.”</p> + +<p>“Be there thieves in the neighbourhood, Master Constable?” +whispered the landlord, in consternation.</p> + +<p>“Why should his Majesty’s constable be here else?” said +Swallow, reaching for a pike, which trembled in his hand as if <span +class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_134'></a>134</span> he had the ague. +“The country about’s o’er-run with them; and I warrant +’tis thy new wife’s blue eyes they are after.” He steadied +himself with the pike and took a deep draught of ale to steady his courage as +well.</p> + +<p>Buzzard started to crawl beneath the table, but the wary constable caught him +by his belt and made a shield for the nonce of his trembling body.</p> + +<p>The landlord’s eyes bulged from their sockets as if a spirit from the +nether regions had confronted him. The corners of his mouth, which ascended in +harmony with his moon-face, twitched nervously. “Mercy me, sayest thou +so?” he asked.</p> + +<p>“And in thine ear,” continued Swallow, consolingly, “and if +thou see’st Old Rowley within a ten league, put thy new huswife’s face +under lock and key and Constable Swallow on the door to guard thy +treasure.”</p> + +<div class='figcenter'> +<a id='link_i7'></a><img src='images/nell-135.jpg' alt='' /> +<p class='center caption'> +MISTRESS NELL FINDS HAPPINESS. +</p> +</div> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_135'></a>135</span>It was not quite +clear, however, what the constable meant; for “Old Rowley” was the +name of the King’s favourite racehorse, of Newmarket fame, and had also +come to be the nickname of the King himself. Charles assumed it good-naturedly. +Assuredly, neither might be expected as a visitor to Ye Blue Boar.</p> + +<p>There came a more spirited knock at the door. The constable sought a niche in +the fireplace, whence he endeavoured to exclude Buzzard, who was loath to be +excluded.</p> + +<p>“Pass the Dutch-courage, good landlord,” entreated Swallow, in a +hoarse whisper.</p> + +<p>The landlord started boldly toward the door, but his courage failed him. +“Go thou, Master Constable,” he exclaimed.</p> + +<p>“Go thou thyself,” wisely commanded Swallow, with the appearance +of much bravery, though one eye twitched nervously in the direction of the +kitchen-door in the rear, as a possible means of exit. “There’s no +need of his Majesty’s constable till the battery be complete. There must +be an action and intent, saith the law.”</p> + +<p>“Old Rowley!” muttered the landlord, <span class='pagenum +pncolor'><a id='page_136'></a>136</span> fearfully. “Good Master +Constable–” he pleaded. His face, which was usually like a roast of +beef, grew livid with fear.</p> + +<p>Swallow, however, gave him no encouragement, and the landlord once more +started for the door.</p> + +<p>On the way his eye lighted on a full cask which was propped up in the corner. +Instinct was strong in him, even in death. It had been tapped, and it would be +unsafe to leave it even for an instant within reach of such guests. He stopped +and quickly replaced the spigot with a plug.</p> + +<p>There was a third knock at the door–louder than before.</p> + +<p>“Anon, anon!” he called, hastily turning and catching up the +half-filled flagon from the table. He disappeared in the entry-way.</p> + +<p>The brave representatives of the King’s law craned their necks, but +they could hear nothing. As the silence continued, courage was gradually +restored to them; and, with the return of courage, came the desire for further +drink.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_137'></a>137</span>Swallow again +seized his pike and staggered toward the entry-way to impress his companion with +his bravery.</p> + +<p>Buzzard caught the spirit of the action. “Marry, I’d be a +constable, too, an it were to sit by the fire and guard a pretty wench,” +he said. His face glowed in anticipation of such happiness as he glanced through +the half-open door to the kitchen, where the landlord’s wife reigned.</p> + +<p>“Egad, thou a constable!” ejaculated Swallow, contemptuously, +throwing a withering glance in the direction of his comrade. “Thou +ignoramamus! Old Rowley wants naught but brave men and sober men like me to +guard the law. Thou art a drunken Roundhead. One of Old Noll’s vile +ruffians. I can tell it by the wart on thy nose, knave.”</p> + +<p>“Nay, Master Constable,” explained Buzzard, with an injured look +at the mention of the wart, “it will soon away. Mother says, when I was a +rosy babe, Master Wart was all in all; now I’m a man, Master Nose is +crowding Neighbour Wart.”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_138'></a>138</span>Swallow put his +hands on his knees and laughed deeply. He contemplated the nose and person of +his companion with a curious air and grew mellow with patronage.</p> + +<p>“Thy fool’s pate is not so dull,” he said, half aloud, as +he lighted a long pipe and puffed violently. “Thy wit would crack a +quarter-staff. ’Sbud, would’st be my <i>posse?</i>”</p> + +<p>This was, indeed, a concession on the part of the constable, who was +over-weighted with the dignity of the law which he upheld.</p> + +<p>“Would’st be at my command,” he continued, “to execute the +King’s <i>Statu quos</i> on rogues?”</p> + +<p>“Marry, Constable Buzzard!” exclaimed the toper, gleefully. +“Nay, and I would!”</p> + +<p>“Marry, ‘Constable’ Buzzard!” replied Swallow, with +tremendous indignation at the assumption of the fellow. “Nay, and thou +would’st not, ass! By my patron saint–”</p> + +<p>As the constable spoke, Buzzard’s eye, with a leer, lighted on the cask +in the <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_139'></a>139</span> corner. He +bethought him that it had a vent-hole even though the landlord had removed the +spigot. He tiptoed unsteadily across the room, and proceeded with much +difficulty to insert a straw in the small opening. He had thus already added +materially to his maudlin condition, before Swallow discovered, with +consternation and anger, the temporary advantage which the newly appointed +<i>posse</i> had secured.</p> + +<p>The cunning constable held carefully on to his tongue, however. He quietly +produced a knife and staggered in his turn to the cask, unobserved by the +unsuspecting Buzzard, whose eyes were tightly closed in the realization of a +dream of his highest earthly bliss.</p> + +<p>In an instant, the straw was clipped mid-way and the constable was enjoying +the contents of the cask through the lower half, while Buzzard slowly awakened +to the fact that his dream of bliss had vanished and that he was sucking a bit +of straw which yielded naught.</p> + +<p>“Here, knave,” commanded Swallow, <span class='pagenum +pncolor'><a id='page_140'></a>140</span> between breaths, pushing the other +roughly aside, “thou hast had enough for a <i>posse</i>. Fill my mug, thou +ignoranshibus.”</p> + +<p>Buzzard staggered toward the table to perform the bidding. “The +flagon’s empty, Master Constable,” he replied, and forthwith loudly +called out, “Landlord! Landlord!”</p> + +<p>The constable dropped his straw and raised himself with difficulty to his +full height, one hand firmly resting on the cask.</p> + +<p>“Silence, fool of a <i>posse</i>” he commanded, when he had +poised himself; “look ye, I have other eggs on the spit. To thy knee, +sirrah; to thy knee, knave!”</p> + +<p>Buzzard with difficulty and with many groans unsuspectingly obeyed the +command. Swallow lifted the cask which not long since he had been riding and +which had not as yet been tapped upon the shoulder of his kneeling companion. +There was another groan.</p> + +<p>“’Tis too heavy, good Master Constable,” cried Buzzard, in sore +distress.</p> + +<p>“Thou clodhopper’” yelled Swallow, <span class='pagenum +pncolor'><a id='page_141'></a>141</span> unsympathetically. “An thou +cannot master a cask of wine, thou wilt never master the King’s law. To +the kitchen with thee; and keep thy eyes shut, thou knave of a +<i>posse</i>.” The constable made a dive for his pike and lantern, and +enforced his authority by punctuating his remarks with jabs of the pike from +behind at his powerless friend, who could scarce keep his legs under the weight +of the cask.</p> + +<p>As Buzzard tottered through the kitchen-door and made his exit, the +constable, finding his orders faithfully obeyed, steadied himself with the pike +to secure a good start; and then, with long staggering strides, he himself made +his way after the <i>posse</i>, singing loudly to his heart’s content:</p> + +<div class='poetry'> +<p><i>“Good store of good claret supplies everything<br /> And the man +that is drunk is as great as a king.”</i></p> </div><!-- poetry --> + +<hr class='pb' /> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_142'></a>142</span><a id='link_9'></a>CHAPTER IX</h2> + +<div class='center'> +<p class='center'><i>Three chickens!</i></p> +</div><!-- centered --> + +<p>The door opened quickly, and in came King Charles; but who would have known +him? The royal monarch had assumed the mien and garb of a ragged cavalier.</p> + +<p>His eyes swept the inn quickly and approvingly. He turned upon the landlord, +who followed him with dubious glances.</p> + +<p>“Cook the chickens to a turn; and, mark you, have the turbot and sauce +hot, and plenty of wine,” he said. “Look to’t; the vintage I +named, Master Landlord. I know the bouquet and sparkle and the ripple o’er +the palate.”</p> + +<p>“Who is to pay for all this, sir?” asked the landlord, aghast at +the order.</p> + +<p>“Insolent!” replied Charles. “I command it, +sirrah.”</p> + +<p>“Pardon, sir,” humbly suggested the <span class='pagenum +pncolor'><a id='page_143'></a>143</span> landlord; “guineas, and not +words, command here.”</p> + +<p>“Odso!” muttered the King, remembering his disguise. “My +temper will reveal me. Never fear, landlord,” he boasted loudly. +“You shall be paid, amply paid. I will pledge myself you shall be +paid.”</p> + +<p>“Pardon, sir,” falteringly repeated the landlord, rubbing his +hands together graciously; “but the order is a costly one and +you–”</p> + +<p>“Do not look flourishing?” said Charles, as he laughingly +finished the sentence, glancing somewhat dubiously himself at his own dress. +“Never judge a man by his rags. Plague on’t, though; I would not +become my own creditor upon inspection. Take courage, good Master Landlord; +England’s debt is in my pocket.”</p> + +<p>“How many to supper, sir?” asked the landlord, fearful lest he +might offend.</p> + +<p>“Two! Two! Only two!” decisively exclaimed Charles. “A man +is an extravagant fool who dines more. The third is expensive and in the way. +Eh, landlord?”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_144'></a>144</span>The King winked +gaily at the landlord, who grinned in response and dropped his eyes more +respectfully.</p> + +<p>“Two, sir,” acquiesced the landlord.</p> + +<p>“Aye, mine host, thou art favoured beyond thy kind,” laughed +Charles, knowingly, as he dwelt upon the joys of a feast incognito alone with +Nell. “A belated goddess would sup at thy hostelry.” The +landlord’s eyes grew big with astonishment. “I will return. Obey her +every wish, dost hear, her every wish, and leave the bill religiously to +me.” Charles swaggered gaily up the steps to the entry-way and out the +door.</p> + +<p>The moon-face of the inn-keeper grew slowly serious. He could not reconcile +the shabby, road-bespattered garments of the strange cavalier with his princely +commands.</p> + +<p>“Body o’ me!” he muttered, lighting one by one the candles +in the room, till the rafters fairly glowed in expectation of the feast. +“Roundhead-beggar, on my life! Turbot and capons and the best vintage! The +King could not have better than this <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a +id='page_145'></a>145</span> rogue. Marry, he shall have the best in the larder; +but Constable Swallow shall toast his feet in the kitchen, with a mug of musty +ale to make him linger.”</p> + +<p>The corners of the mouth in the moon-face ascended in a chuckle.</p> + +<p>“His ragged lordship’ll settle the bill very religiously,” +he thought, “or sleep off his swollen Roundhead behind the +bars.”</p> + +<p>He passed into the kitchen and gave the order for the repast. As he returned, +there was a tap at the door; and he hastened to the window.</p> + +<p>“Bless me, a petticoat!” he cried. “Well, he’s told +the truth for once. She’s veiled. Ashamed of her face or ashamed of +him.”</p> + +<p>He opened the door and ushered in a lady dressed in white; across her face +and eyes was thrown a scarf of lace.</p> + +<p>“Not here?” questioned the new-comer, glancing eagerly about the +room and peeping into every nook and corner without the asking, to the +astonishment of the inn-keeper.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_146'></a>146</span>“Not +here?” she asked herself again, excitedly. “Tell me, tell me, is +this Ye Blue Boar Inn?”</p> + +<p>“Yes, lady–” replied the landlord, graciously.</p> + +<p>“Good, good! Has she been here? Have you seen her?”</p> + +<p>“Who, the goddess?” asked the landlord, stupidly.</p> + +<p>“The goddess!” retorted Nell, for it was none other, with +humorous irony of lip. “How can you so belie the Duchess?” She +laughed merrily at the thought.</p> + +<p>There was a second knock; and the landlord again hastened to the window.</p> + +<p>“’Tis she; ’tis she!” exclaimed Nell, excitedly. +“Haste ye, man; I am in waiting! What has she on? How is she +dressed?”</p> + +<p>“Body o’ me!” exclaimed the landlord, in awe, as he craned +his neck at the sash. “’Tis a lady of quality.”</p> + +<p>“Bad quality,” ejaculated Nell.</p> + +<p>“She has come in a chair of silver,” cried the landlord.</p> + +<p>“My chair shall be of beaten gold, <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a +id='page_147'></a>147</span> then,” thought Nell, with a twinkle of the +eye. “Charles, you must raise the taxes.”</p> + +<p>“Mercy me, the great lady’s coming in,” continued the +landlord, beside himself in his excitement.</p> + +<p>“She shall be welcome, most welcome, landlord,” observed Nell +promptly.</p> + +<p>“Body o’ me! What shall I say?” asked the landlord, in +trembling accents.</p> + +<p>“Faith and troth,” replied Nell, coming to his rescue, “I +will do the parlez-vousing with her ladyship. Haste thee, thou grinning fat +man.” She glided quickly into a corner of the old fireplace, where she +could not be observed so readily.</p> + +<p>The Duchess of Portsmouth entered, with all the haughty grandeur of a queen. +She glanced about contemptuously, and her lip could be seen to curl, even +through the veil which partially hid her face.</p> + +<p>“This <i>bourgeois</i> place,” she said, “to sup with the +King! It cannot be! <i>Garçon!</i>”</p> + +<p>“What a voice,” reflected Nell, in her hiding-place, “in +which to sigh, ‘I love you.’”</p> + +<p>“Barbarous place!” exclaimed Portsmouth. <span class='pagenum +pncolor'><a id='page_148'></a>148</span> “His Majesty must have lost his +wits.”</p> + +<p>She smiled complacently, however, as she reflected that the King might +consent even within these walls and that his sign-manual, if so secured, would +be as binding as if given in a palace.</p> + +<p>“<i>Garçon!</i>” again she called, irritably.</p> + +<p>Nell was meanwhile inspecting her rival from top to toe. Nothing escaped her +quick eye. “I’ll wager her complexion needs a veil,” she +muttered, with vixenish glee. “That gown is an insult to her native +France.”</p> + +<p>“<i>Garçon</i>; answer me,” commanded Portsmouth, fretfully.</p> + +<p>The landlord had danced about her grace in such anxiety to please that he had +displeased. He had not learned the courtier’s art of being ever present, +yet never in the way.</p> + +<p>“Yes, your ladyship,” he stupidly repeated again and again. +“What would your ladyship?”</p> + +<p>“Did a prince leave commands for supper?” she asked, +impatiently.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_149'></a>149</span>“No, your +ladyship,” he replied, obsequiously. “A ragged rogue ordered a +banquet and then ran away, your ladyship.”</p> + +<p>“How, sirrah?” she questioned, angrily, though the poor landlord +had meant no discourtesy.</p> + +<p>“If he knew his guests, he would ne’er return,” softly laughed +Nell.</p> + +<p>“<i>Parbleu</i>,” continued Portsmouth, in her French, impatient +way, now quite incensed by the stupidity of the landlord, “a cavalier +would meet me at Ye Blue Boar Inn; so said the messenger.”</p> + +<p>She suddenly caught sight of Nell, whose biting curiosity had led her from +her hiding-place. “This is not the rendezvous,” she reflected +quickly. “We were to sup alone.”</p> + +<p>The landlord still bowed and still uttered the meaningless phrase: +“Yes, your ladyship.”</p> + +<p>The Duchess was at the end of her patience. “<i>Mon Dieu</i>,” +she exclaimed, “do you know nothing, sirrah?”</p> + +<p>The moon-face beamed. The head <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a +id='page_150'></a>150</span> bowed and bowed and bowed; the hands were rubbed +together graciously.</p> + +<p>“Good lack, I know not; a supper for a king was ordered by a ragged +Roundhead,” he replied. “Here are two petticoats, your ladyship. +When I know which petticoat is which petticoat, your ladyship, I will serve the +dinner.”</p> + +<p>The tavern-keeper sidled toward the kitchen-door. As he went out, he +muttered, judiciously low: “I wouldn’t give a ha’penny for the +choice.”</p> + +<p>“Beggar!” snapped Portsmouth. “Musty place, musty +furniture, musty <i>garçon</i>, musty everything!”</p> + +<p>She stood aloof in the centre of the room as if fearful lest she might be +contaminated by her surroundings.</p> + +<p>Nell approached her respectfully.</p> + +<p>“You may like it better after supper, madame,” she suggested, +mildly. “A good spread, sparkling wine and most congenial company have +cast a halo o’er more time-begrimed rafters than these.”</p> + +<p>“Who are you, madame?” inquired the Duchess, haughtily.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_151'></a>151</span>“A +fellow-passenger on the earth,” gently replied Nell, “and a lover of +good company, and–some wine.”</p> + +<p>“Yes?” said the Duchess, in a way that only a woman can ask and +answer a question with a “yes” and with a look such as only a woman +can give another woman when she asks and answers that little question with a +“yes.”</p> + +<p>There was a moment’s pause.</p> + +<p>The Duchess continued: “Perhaps you have seen the cavalier I +await.”</p> + +<p>“Marry, not I,” replied Nell, promptly; and she bethought her +that she had kept a pretty sharp lookout for him, too.</p> + +<p>“Is this a proper place for a lady to visit?” pompously inquired +the Duchess.</p> + +<p>“You raise the first doubt,” said Nell quickly.</p> + +<p>“Madame!” exclaimed Portsmouth, interrupting her, with fiery +indignation.</p> + +<p>“I say, you are the first to question the propriety of the +place,” explained Nell, apologetically, though she delighted inwardly at +the intended shot which she had given her grace.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_152'></a>152</span>“I came by +appointment,” continued the Duchess; “but it seems I was misled. +<i>Garçon</i>, my chair!”</p> + +<p>The Duchess made a move toward the door, but Nell’s words stopped +her.</p> + +<p>“Be patient, Duchess! He is too gallant to desert you.”</p> + +<p>“She knows me!” thought Portsmouth. She turned sharply upon the +stranger. “I have not the pleasure of your acquaintance, +madame.”</p> + +<p>“Such is my loss, not yours,” replied Nell, suavely.</p> + +<p>“Remove your veil,” commanded the Duchess; and her eyes flashed +through her own.</p> + +<p>“I dare not before the beauty of Versailles,” continued Nell, +sweetly. “Remove yours first. Then I may take mine off unseen.”</p> + +<p>“Do I know you?” suspiciously inquired Portsmouth.</p> + +<p>“I fear not,” said Nell, meekly, and she courtesied low. “I +am but an humble player–called Nell Gwyn.”</p> + +<p>The Duchess raised herself to her full height.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_153'></a>153</span>“Nell +Gwyn!” she hissed, and she fairly tore off her veil.</p> + +<p>“Your grace’s most humble servant,” said Nell, again +courtesying low and gracefully removing her veil.</p> + +<p>“This is a trap,” exclaimed the Duchess, as she realized the +situation.</p> + +<p>“Heaven bless the brain that set it then,” sweetly suggested +Nell.</p> + +<p>“Your own, minx,” snapped Portsmouth. “I’ll not look +at the hussy!” she muttered. She crossed the room and seated herself upon +the bench, back to Nell.</p> + +<p>“Your grace would be more kind if you knew my joy at seeing +you.”</p> + +<p>“And why?” asked the Duchess, ironically.</p> + +<p>“I would emulate your warmth and amiability,” tenderly responded +Nell.</p> + +<p>“Yes?” said Portsmouth; but how much again there was in her +little “yes,” accented as it was with a French shrug.</p> + +<p>“I adore a beautiful woman,” continued Nell, “especially +when I know her to be–”</p> + +<p>“A successful rival?” triumphantly <span class='pagenum +pncolor'><a id='page_154'></a>154</span> asked the Duchess.</p> + +<p>“A rival!” exclaimed Nell, in well-feigned astonishment, still +toying with the Duchess’s temper. “Is the poor actress so honoured +in a duchess’s thought? Your grace is generous.”</p> + +<p>If all the angels had united, they could not have made her speech more sweet +or her manner more enticing.</p> + +<p>“I presumed you might conceive it so,” replied Portsmouth, with +mocking, condescending mien.</p> + +<p>Nell approached her timidly and spoke softly, lovingly, subserviently.</p> + +<p>“A rival to the great Duchess of Portsmouth!” she said. +“Perish the thought! It is with trepidation I look upon your glorious +face, madame; a figure that would tempt St. Anthony; a foot so small it makes us +swear the gods have lent invisible wings to waft you to your conquest. Nay, do +not turn your rosy lip in scorn; I am in earnest, so in earnest, that, were I +but a man, I would bow me down your constant slave–unless perchance you +should grow fat.”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_155'></a>155</span>The turn was +delicious: Nell’s face was a study; and so was Portsmouth’s.</p> + +<p>The Duchess sprang to her feet, realizing fully for the first time that she +had been trapped and trifled with. “Hussy! Beware your own lacings,” +she angrily exclaimed, turning now full face upon her adversary.</p> + +<p>Nell was leaning against the table across the room, quietly observing +Portsmouth upon the word-wrack. Her whole manner had changed. She watched with +evident delight the play of discomfiture, mingled with contempt, upon the +beautiful Duchess’s face.</p> + +<p>“<i>Me</i> fat!” she derisively laughed. “Be sure I shall +never grow too much so. And have not the stars said I shall ne’er grow +old?”</p> + +<p>“Your stars are falser than yourself,” tartly snapped the +Duchess.</p> + +<p>“Mayhap,” said Nell, still gleeful; “but mark you this +truth: I shall reign queen of Love and Laughter while I live, and die with the +first wrinkle.”</p> + +<p>She was interrupted by his Majesty, <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a +id='page_156'></a>156</span> who, unsuspecting, swaggered into the room in +buoyant spirits.</p> + +<p>“The King!” exclaimed Nell, as she slyly glanced over her +shoulder.</p> + +<p>The King looked at one woman and then at the other in dismay and horror.</p> + +<p>“Scylla and Charybdis!” he muttered, nervously, glancing about +for means of escape. “All my patron-saints protect me!”</p> + +<p>Nell was by his side in an instant.</p> + +<p>“Good even’ to your Majesty,” she roguishly exclaimed. +“How can I ever thank you, Sire, for inviting the Duchess to sup with me! +I have been eager to meet her ladyship.”</p> + +<p>“Ods-pitikins,” he thought, “a loophole for me.”</p> + +<p>“Well,–you see–” he said, “a little surprise, +Nelly,–a little surprise–for me.” The last two words were not +audible to his hearers. He looked at the beautiful rivals an instant, then +ventured, “I hoped to be in time to introduce you, ladies.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, your Majesty,” asserted Nell, consolingly, “we are +already quite well <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_157'></a>157</span> +acquainted. I knew her grace through her veil.”</p> + +<p>“No doubt on’t,” observed the King, knowingly.</p> + +<p>“Yes, Sire,” said the Duchess, haughtily, casting a frigid glance +at Nell, “I warrant we understand each other perfectly.”</p> + +<p>“Better and better,” said Charles, with a sickly laugh.</p> + +<p>His Majesty saw rocks and shoals ahead, and his wits could find no channel of +escape. He turned in dire distress upon Nell, who stood aloof. She looked up +into his face with the innocence of a babe in every feature.</p> + +<p>“Minx, this is your work!” he whispered.</p> + +<p>“Yes, Sire!” she answered, mock-reprovingly, bending quite to the +floor as she courtesied low.</p> + +<p>“‘Yes, Sire.’ Baggage!” he exclaimed good-naturedly despite +himself.</p> + +<p>As he turned away, praying Heaven to see him out of the difficulty, he +observed the landlord, who had just entered <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a +id='page_158'></a>158</span> with bread and cups, muttering some dubious +invocations to himself. He clutched at this piece of human stupidity–like +a drowning man clutching at a straw: “Ah, landlord, bring in what we live +for; and haste ye, sirrah. The wine! The wine!”</p> + +<p>“It is ready, sir,” obsequiously replied the landlord, who had +just sense enough in his dull cranium to reflect also, by way of complement, +“So is Constable Swallow.”</p> + +<p>“Good news, good news!” cried Charles; and he tossed his plumed +hat upon the sideboard, preparatory to the feast. “D’ye hear, my +fair and loving friends? Come, it is impolite to keep the capons waiting. My +arms; my arms!”</p> + +<p>The King stepped gallantly between the ladies, making a bold play for peace. +The Duchess took one arm formally. Nell seized the remaining arm and almost +hugged his Majesty, nestling her head affectionately against his shoulder. +Charles observed the decorum of due dignity. He was impartial to a fault; for he +realized that there only lay his salvation.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_159'></a>159</span>The phalanx +approached the feast in solemn march. The King tossed his head proudly and +observed: “Who would not play the thorn with two such buds to blush on +either side?”</p> + +<p>There was a halt. The Duchess looked coldly at the table, then coldly at the +King, then more coldly at Nell. The King looked at each inquiringly.</p> + +<p>“I thought your Majesty ordered supper for three,” she said. +“It is set for two.”</p> + +<p>“Odsfish, for two!” cried Charles, glancing, anxiously, for the +first time at the collation.</p> + +<p>Nell had taken her place at the feast, regardless of formality. She was +looking out for herself, irrespective of King or Duchess. She believed that a +dinner, like the grave, renders all equal.</p> + +<p>“Egad!” she exclaimed, as she dwelt upon the force of the +Duchess’s observation. “Our host is teaching us the virtues of +economy.”</p> + +<p>The unsuspecting landlord re-entered at this moment, wine in hand, which he +proceeded to place upon the table.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_160'></a>160</span>“What do +you mean, knave, by this treachery!” almost shrieked the King at sight of +him. “Another plate, dost hear; another plate, dog!”</p> + +<p>“Bless me,” explained the landlord, in confusion, “you said +supper for two, sir; that a man was a fool who dined more; that the third was +expensive and in the way.”</p> + +<p>“Villain!” cried Charles, in a hopeless effort to suppress the +fellow, “I said two-two–beside myself. I never count myself in the +presence of these ladies.”</p> + +<p>The landlord beat a hasty retreat.</p> + +<p>The Duchess smiled a chilling smile, and asked complacently:</p> + +<p>“Which one of us did you expect, Sire?”</p> + +<p>“Yes, which did you expect, Sire?” laughed Nell.</p> + +<p>“Oh, my head,” groaned Charles; “well, well,–you +see–Duchess, the matter lies in this wise–”</p> + +<p>“Let me help your Majesty,” generously interrupted Nell. +“Her ladyship is ill at figures. You see, Charles and I are <span +class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_161'></a>161</span> one, and you make two, +Duchess.”</p> + +<p>“I spoke to the King,” haughtily replied the Duchess, not +deigning to glance at Nell.</p> + +<p>The King placed his hands upon his forehead in bewilderment.</p> + +<p>“This is a question for the Prime Minister and sages of the realm in +council.”</p> + +<p>“There are but two chairs, Sire,” continued Portsmouth, +coldly.</p> + +<p>“Two chairs!” exclaimed the Merry Monarch, aghast, as he saw the +breach hopelessly widening. “I am lost.”</p> + +<p>“That is serious, Sire,” said Nell, sadly; and then her eye +twinkled as she suggested, “but perhaps we might make out with one, for +the Duchess’s sake. I am so little.”</p> + +<p>She turned her head and laughed gaily, while she watched the Duchess’s +face out of the corner of her eye.</p> + +<p>“’Sheart,” sighed the King, “I have construed grave +controversies of state in my time, but ne’er drew the line yet betwixt black +eyes and blue, brunette and blonde, when both were present. Another <span +class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_162'></a>162</span> chair, landlord! Come, +my sweethearts; eat, drink and forget.”</p> + +<p>The King threw himself carelessly into a chair in the hope that, in meat and +drink, he might find peace.</p> + +<p>“Aye,” acquiesced Nell, who was already at work, irrespective of +ceremony, “eat, drink and forget! I prefer to quarrel after +supper.”</p> + +<p>“I do not,” said the Duchess, who still stood indignant in the +centre of the room.</p> + +<p>Nell could scarce speak, for her mouthful; but she replied gaily, with a +French shrug, in imitation of the Duchess:</p> + +<p>“Oh, very well! I have a solution. Let’s play sphinx, +Sire.”</p> + +<p>Charles looked up hopefully.</p> + +<p>“Anything for peace,” he exclaimed. “How +is’t?”</p> + +<p>“Why,” explained Nell, with the philosophical air of a learned +doctor, “some years before you and I thought much about the ways and means +of this wicked world, your Majesty, the Sphinx spent her leisure asking people +riddles; and if they could not answer, she ate them alive. <span class='pagenum +pncolor'><a id='page_163'></a>163</span> Give me some of that turbot. +Don’t stand on ceremony, Sire; for the Duchess is waiting.”</p> + +<p>The King hastened to refill Nell’s plate.</p> + +<p>“Thank you,” laughed the vixen; “that will do for now. Let +the Duchess propound a riddle from the depths of her subtle brain; and if I do +not fathom it upon the instant, Sire, ’t is the Duchess’s–not +Nell’s–evening with the King.”</p> + +<p>“Odsfish, a great stake!” cried Charles. He arose with a +serio-comic air, much pleased at the turn things were taking.</p> + +<p>“Don’t be too confident, madame,” ironically suggested the +Duchess; “you are cleverer in making riddles than in solving +them.”</p> + +<p>As she spoke, the room was suddenly filled with savoury odour. The moon-faced +landlord had again appeared, flourishing a platter containing two finely roasted +chickens. His face glowed with pride and ale.</p> + +<p>“The court’s famished,” exclaimed Charles, as he greeted +the inn-keeper; “proceed!”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_164'></a>164</span>“Two +capons! I have it,” triumphantly thought Portsmouth, as she reflected upon +a riddle she had once heard in far-off France. It could not be known in England. +Nothing so clever could be known in England. She looked contemptuously at Nell, +and then at the two chickens, as she propounded it.</p> + +<p>“Let your wits find then three capons on this plate.”</p> + +<p>“Three chickens!” cried Charles, in wonderment, closely +scrutinizing the two fowl upon the plate and then looking up inquiringly at the +Duchess. “There are but two.”</p> + +<p>Nell only gurgled.</p> + +<p>“Another glass, landlord, and I’ll see four,” she said. +“Here’s to you two, and to me too.” She drank gaily to her +toast.</p> + +<p>“That is not the answer, madame,” coldly retorted the +Duchess.</p> + +<p>“Are we come to blows over two innocent chickens?” asked Charles, +somewhat concerned still for the outcome. “Bring on your witnesses.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_165'></a>165</span> “This is one +chicken, your Majesty,” declared the Duchess. “Another’s two; +and two and one make three.”</p> + +<p>With much formality and something of the air of a conjurer, she counted the +first chicken and the second chicken and then recounted the first chicken, in +such a way as to make it appear that there were three birds in all.</p> + +<p>The King, who was ill at figures, like all true spendthrifts, sat confused by +her speech. Nell laughed again. The landlord, who was in and out, stopped long +enough to enter upon his bill, in rambling characters, “3 chickens.” +This was all his dull ear had comprehended. He then piously proceeded on his +way.</p> + +<p>“Gadso!” exclaimed the King, woefully. “It is too much for +me.”</p> + +<p>“Pooh, pooh, ’tis too simple for you, Sire,” laughed Nell. +“I solved it when a child. Here is my bird; and here is your bird; and our +dearest Duchess shall sup on her third bird!”</p> + +<p>Nell quickly spitted one chicken upon a huge fork and so removed it to her +own <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_166'></a>166</span> plate. The +second chicken, she likewise conveyed to his Majesty’s. Then, with all the +politeness which she only could summon, she bowed low and offered the empty +platter to the Duchess.</p> + +<p>Portsmouth struck it to the board angrily with her gloved hand and steadied +herself against the table.</p> + +<p>“Hussy!” she hissed, and forthwith pretended to grow faint.</p> + +<p>Charles was at her elbow in an instant, supporting her.</p> + +<p>“Oh,–Sire, I–” she continued, in her efforts to +speak.</p> + +<p>“What is it?” cried Charles, seriously, endeavouring to assist +her. “You are pale, Louise.”</p> + +<p>“I am faint,” replied she, with much difficulty. “Pardon my +longer audience, Sire; I am not well. <i>Garçon</i>, my chair. Assist me to the +door.”</p> + +<p>The fat landlord made a hasty exit, for him, toward the street, in his desire +to help the great lady. Charles supported her to the threshold.</p> + +<p>“Call a leech, Sire,” cried Nell after <span class='pagenum +pncolor'><a id='page_167'></a>167</span> them, with mock sympathy. “Her +grace has choked on a chicken-bone.”</p> + +<p>“Be still, wench,” commanded the King. “Do not leave us, +Louise; it breaks the sport.”</p> + +<p>“Nay,” pleaded Nell also, “do not go because of this little +merry-making, Duchess. I desire we may become better friends.”</p> + +<p>Her voice revived the Duchess.</p> + +<p>“<i>Sans doute</i>, we shall, madame,” Portsmouth replied, +coldly. “<i>À mon bal! Pas adieu, mais au revoir</i>.”</p> + +<p>The great Duchess courtesied low, kissed the King’s hand, arose to her +full height and, with an eye-shot at Nell, took her departure.</p> + +<hr class='pb' /> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_168'></a>168</span><a id='link_10'></a>CHAPTER X</h2> + +<div class='center'> +<p class='center'><i>Arrest him yourself!</i></p> +</div><!-- centered --> + +<p>The King stood at the door, thoughtfully reflecting on the temper of the +departing Duchess. She was a maid of honour and, more than that, an emissary +from his brother Louis of France. Gossip said he loved her, but it was not true, +though he liked her company exceeding well when the mood suited. He regretted +only the evening’s incident, with the harsher feeling it was sure to +engender.</p> + +<p>Nell stood by the fireplace, muttering French phrases in humorous imitation +of her grace. Observing the King’s preoccupation, she tossed a +<i>serviette</i> merrily at his head.</p> + +<p>This brought his Majesty to himself again. He turned, and laughed as he saw +her; for his brain and heart delighted in her merry-making. He loved her.</p> + +<p>“What means this vile French?” she <span class='pagenum +pncolor'><a id='page_169'></a>169</span> asked, with delicious suggestion of the +shrug, accent and manner of her vanquished rival.</p> + +<p>“The Duchess means,” explained the King, “that she gives a +royal ball–”</p> + +<p>“And invites me?” broke in Nell, quickly, placing her elbows upon +a cask and looking over it impishly at Charles.</p> + +<p>“And invites you <i>not</i>” said the King, “and so outwits +you.”</p> + +<p>“By her porters’ wits and not her own,” retorted Nell.</p> + +<p>She threw herself into a chair and became oblivious for the moment of her +surroundings.</p> + +<p>“The French hussy! So she gives a ball?” she thought. +“Well, well, I’ll be there! I’ll teach her much. Oh, +I’ll be pretty, too, aye, very pretty. No fear yet of rivalry or harm for +England.”</p> + +<p>Charles watched her amusedly, earnestly, lovingly. The vixen had fallen +unconsciously into imitating again the Duchess’s foreign ways, as an +accompaniment even for her thoughts.</p> + +<p>“<i>Sans doute</i>, we shall, <i>madame</i>” Nell <span +class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_170'></a>170</span> muttered audibly, with +much gesticulating and a mocking accent. “<i>À mon bal! Pas adieu, mais au +revoir</i>.”</p> + +<p>The King came closer.</p> + +<p>“Are you ill,” he asked, “that you do mutter so and wildly +act?”</p> + +<p>“I was only thinking that, if I were a man,” she said, turning +toward him playfully, “I would love your Duchess to devotion. Her wit is +so original, her repartee so sturdy. Your Majesty’s taste in +horses–and some women–is excellent.”</p> + +<p>She crossed the room gaily and threw herself laughing upon the bench. The +King followed her.</p> + +<p>“Heaven help the being, naughty Nell,” he said, “who +offends thy merry tongue; but I love thee for it.” He sat down beside her +in earnest adoration, then caught her lovingly in his arms.</p> + +<p>“Love me?” sighed Nell, scarce mindful of the embrace. “Ah, +Sire, I am but a plaything for the King at best, a caprice, a fancy–naught +else.”</p> + +<p>“Nay, sweet,” said Charles, “you have not read this +heart.”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_171'></a>171</span>“I have +read it too deeply,” replied Nell, with much meaning in her voice. +“It is this one to-day, that one to-morrow, with King Charles. Ah, Sire, +your love for the poor player-girl is summed up in three little words: ‘I amuse +you!’”</p> + +<p>“Amuse me!” exclaimed Charles, thoughtfully. “Hark ye, +Nell! States may marry us; they cannot make us love. Ye Gods, the humblest +peasant in my realm is monarch of a heart of his own choice. Would I were such a +king!”</p> + +<p>“What buxom country lass,” asked Nell, sadly but wistfully, +“teaches your fancy to follow the plough, my truant master?”</p> + +<p>“You forget: I too,” continued Charles, “have been an +outcast, like Orange Nell, seeking a crust and bed.”</p> + +<p>He arose and turned away sadly to suppress his emotion. He was not the King +of England now: he was a man who had suffered; he was a man among men.</p> + +<p>“Forgive me, Sire,” said Nell, tenderly, as a woman only can +speak, “if I recall unhappy times.”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a +id='page_172'></a>172</span>“Unhappy!” echoed Charles, while Fancy +toyed with Recollection. “Nell, in those dark days, I learned to read the +human heart. God taught me then the distinction ’twixt friend and enemy. When a +misled rabble had dethroned my father, girl, and murdered him before our palace +gate, and bequeathed the glorious arts and progressive sciences to religious +bigots and fanatics, to trample under foot and burn–when, if a little bird +sang overjoyously, they cut out his tongue for daring to be merry–in some +lonely home by some stranger’s hearth, a banished prince, called Charles +Stuart, oft found an asylum of plenty and repose; and in your eyes, my Nell, I +read the self-same, loyal, English heart.”</p> + +<p>There was all the sadness of great music in his speech. Nell fell upon her +knee, and kissed his hand, reverently.</p> + +<p>“My King!” she said; and her voice trembled with passionate +love.</p> + +<p>He raised her tenderly and kissed her upon the lips.</p> + +<p>“My queen,” he said; and his voice <span class='pagenum +pncolor'><a id='page_173'></a>173</span> too trembled with passionate love.</p> + +<p>“And Milton says that Paradise is lost,” whispered Nell. Her head +rested on the King’s shoulder. She looked up–the picture of perfect +happiness–into his eyes.</p> + +<p>“Not while Nell loves Charles,” he said.</p> + +<p>“And Charles remembers Nell,” her voice answered, softly.</p> + +<p>Meanwhile, the rotund landlord had entered unobserved; and a contrast he +made, indeed, to the endearing words of the lovers as at this instant he +unceremoniously burst forth in guttural accents with:</p> + +<p>“The bill! The bill for supper, sir!”</p> + +<p>Nell looked at the King and the King looked at Nell; then both looked at the +landlord. The lovers’ sense of humour was boundless. That was their first +tie; the second, their hearts.</p> + +<p>“The bill!” repeated Nell, smothering a laugh. “Yes, we +were just speaking of the bill.”</p> + +<p>“How opportune!” exclaimed Charles, <span class='pagenum +pncolor'><a id='page_174'></a>174</span> taking the cue. “We feared you +would forget it, sirrah.”</p> + +<p>“See that it is right,” ejaculated Nell.</p> + +<p>The King glanced at the bill indifferently, but still could not fail to see +“3 chickens” in unschooled hand. His eyes twinkled and he glanced at +the landlord, but the latter avoided his look with a pretence of innocence.</p> + +<p>“Gad,” said Charles, with a swagger, “what are a few extra +shillings to Parliament? Here, my man.” He placed a hand in a pocket, but +found it empty. “No; it is in the other pocket.” He placed his hand +in another, only to find it also empty. Then he went through the remaining +pockets, one by one, turning them each out for inspection–his face +assuming an air of mirthful hopelessness as he proceeded. He had changed his +garb for a merry lark, but had neglected to change his purse. “Devil +on’t, I–have–forgotten–Odsfish, where is my +treasurer?” he exclaimed at last.</p> + +<div class='figcenter'> +<a id='link_i8'></a><img src='images/nell-174.jpg' alt='' /> +<p class='center caption'> +THE DECEPTION. +</p> +</div> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_175'></a>175</span>“Your +treasurer!” shrieked the landlord, who had watched Charles’s search, +with twitching eyes. “Want your treasurer, do ye? Constable +Swallow’ll find him for ye. Constable Swallow! I knew you were a rascal, +by your face.”</p> + +<p>Charles laughed.</p> + +<p>This exasperated the landlord still further. He began to flutter about the +room aimlessly, bill in hand. He presented it to Charles and he presented it to +Nell, who would have none of it; while at intervals he called loudly for the +constable.</p> + +<p>“Peace, my man,” entreated Nell; “be still for +mercy’s sake.”</p> + +<p>“Good lack, my lady,” pleaded the landlord, in despair, +“good lack, but you would not see a poor man robbed by a vagabond, would +ye? Constable Swallow!”</p> + +<p>The situation was growing serious indeed. The King was mirthful still, but +Nell was fearful.</p> + +<p>“Nell, have you no money to stop this heathen’s mouth?” he +finally ejaculated, as he caught up his bonnet and tossed it jauntily upon his +head.</p> + +<p>“Not a farthing,” replied she, sharply. “I was invited to +sup, not pay the bill.”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_176'></a>176</span>“If the +King knew this rascal,” yelled the landlord at the top of his voice, +pointing to Charles, “he would be behind the bars long ago.”</p> + +<p>This was too much for his Majesty, who broke into the merriest of laughs.</p> + +<p>“Verily, I believe you,” he admitted. Then he fell to laughing +again, almost rolling off the bench in his glee.</p> + +<p>“Master Constable,” wildly repeated the landlord, at the +kitchen-door. “Let my new wife alone; they are making off with the +house.”</p> + +<p>Nell was filled with consternation.</p> + +<p>“He’ll raise the neighbourhood, Sire,” she whispered to +Charles. “Have you no money to stop this heathen’s mouth?”</p> + +<p>“Not even holes in my pockets,” calmly replied the Merry +Monarch.</p> + +<p>“Odsfish, what company am I got into!” sighed Nell. She ran to +the landlord and seized his arm in her endeavour to quiet him.</p> + +<p>The landlord, however, was beside himself. He stood at the kitchen-door +gesticulating ferociously and still shouting <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a +id='page_177'></a>177</span> at the top of his voice: “Constable Swallow! +Help, help; thieves; Constable Swallow!”</p> + +<p>Swallow staggered into the room with all his dignity aboard. Tankard in hand, +he made a dive for the table, and catching it firmly, surveyed the scene.</p> + +<p>Nell turned to her lover for protection.</p> + +<p>“Murder, hic!” ejaculated the constable. “Thieves! +What’s the row?–Hic!”</p> + +<p>“Arrest this blackguard,” commanded the landlord, nervously, +“this perfiler of honest men.”</p> + +<p>“Arrest!–You drunken idiot!” indignantly exclaimed Charles; +and his sword cut the air before the constable’s eyes.</p> + +<p>Nell seized his arm. Her woman’s intuition showed her the better +course.</p> + +<p>“You will raise a nest of them,” she whispered. “You need +your wits, Sire; not your sword.”</p> + +<p>“Nay; come on, I say,” cried Charles, fearlessly. +“We’ll see what his Majesty’s constables are made +of.”</p> + +<p>“You rogue–<i>Posse!</i>” exclaimed Swallow, <span +class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_178'></a>178</span> starting boldly for the +King, then making a brilliant retreat, calling loudly for help, as the rapier +tickled him in the ribs.</p> + +<p>“You ruffian–<i>Posse!</i>” he continued to call, +alternately, first to one and then to the other; for his fear paralyzed all but +his tongue. “You outlaw–<i>Posse +commi-ti-titous</i>–hic!”</p> + +<p>Buzzard also now entered from his warm nest in the kitchen, so intoxicated +that he vented his enthusiasm in song, which in this case seemed apt:</p> + +<div class='poetry'> +<p><i>“The man that is drunk is as great as a king.”</i></p> +</div><!-- poetry --> + +<p>“Another champion of the King’s law!” ejaculated Charles, +not without a shadow of contempt in his voice, once more assuming an attitude of +defence.</p> + +<p>“Oh, Charles!” pleaded Nell, again catching his arm.</p> + +<p>“<i>Posse</i>, arrest that vagabond,” commanded the constable, +from a point of safety behind the table.</p> + +<p>“Aye, aye, sir,” replied the obedient Buzzard. “On what +charge–hic?”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a +id='page_179'></a>179</span>“He’s a law-breaker and a robber!” +yelled the watchful landlord.</p> + +<p>“He called the law a drunken idiot. Hic–hic!” woefully +wailed Swallow. “Odsbud, that’s treason! Arrest him, +<i>posse</i>–hic!”</p> + +<p>“Knave, I arrest–hic!” asserted Buzzard.</p> + +<p>The <i>posse</i> started boldly enough for his game, but was suddenly brought +to a stand-still in his reeling course by the sharp point of the rapier playing +about his legs. He made several indignant efforts to overcome the obstacle. The +point of the blade was none too gentle with him, even as he beat a retreat; and +his enthusiasm waned.</p> + +<p>“Arrest him yourself–hic!” he exclaimed.</p> + +<p>Swallow’s face grew red with rage. To have his orders disobeyed fired +him with much more indignation of soul than the escape of the ruffian, who was +simply defrauding the landlord of a dinner. He turned hotly upon the +insubordinate <i>posse</i>, crying:</p> + +<p>“I’ll arrest you, you Buzzard–hic!”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a +id='page_180'></a>180</span>“I’ll arrest you, you +Swallow–hic!” with equal dignity retorted Buzzard.</p> + +<p>“I’m his Majesty’s constable–hic!” hissed +Swallow, from lips charged with air, bellows-like.</p> + +<p>“I’m his Majesty’s <i>posse</i>–hic!” hissed +Buzzard in reply.</p> + +<p>The two drunken representatives of the law seized each other angrily. The +landlord, in despair, endeavoured hopelessly to separate them.</p> + +<p>“A wrangle of the generals,” laughed Charles. “Now is our +time.” He looked about quickly for an exit.</p> + +<p>“Body o’ me! The vagabonds’ll escape,” shouted the +landlord.</p> + +<p>“Fly, fly!” said Nell. “This way, Charles.”</p> + +<p>She ran hastily toward the steps leading to the entry-way; the King assisted +her.</p> + +<p>“Stop, thief! Stop, thief!” screamed the landlord. “The +bill! The bill!”</p> + +<p>“Send it to the Duchess!” replied Nell, gaily, as she and the +Merry Monarch darted into the night.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_181'></a>181</span>The landlord +turned in despair, to find the drunken champions of the King’s law in a +struggling heap upon the floor. He raised his foot and took out vengeance where +vengeance could be found.</p> + +<div class='figcenter'> +<img alt='' src='images/nell-181.jpg' /> +</div> + +<hr class='pb' /> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_182'></a>182</span><a id='link_11'></a>CHAPTER XI</h2> + +<div class='center'> +<p class='center'><i>In the field, men; at court, women!</i></p> +</div><!-- centered --> + +<p>It was the evening of Portsmouth’s long-awaited <i>bal masqué</i>. +Music filled her palace with rhythmic sound. In the gardens, its mellowing +strains died away among the shrubs and over-hanging boughs. In every nook and +corner wandered at will the nobility–the richest–the +greatest–in the land.</p> + +<p>None entertain like the French; and the Duchess had, indeed, exhausted French +art in turning the grand old place into a land of ravishing enchantment, with +its many lights, its flowers, its works of art. Her abode was truly an +enlivening scene, with its variety of maskers, bright dominoes and vizards.</p> + +<p>The King was there and took a merry part in all the sport, although, beneath +his swaggering abandon, there lurked a vein of sadness. He laughed heartily, he +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_183'></a>183</span> danced gaily, he +jested with one and all; but his manner was assumed. The shrewdest woman’s +eye could not have seen it; though she might have felt it. Brother James too +enjoyed the dance, despite his piety; and Buckingham, Rochester and a score of +courtiers beloved by the King entered mirthfully into the scene, applauding the +Duchess’s entertainment heartily.</p> + +<p>As the evening wore apace, the merry maskers grew merrier and merrier. In a +drawing-room adjoining the great ball-room, a robber-band, none other than +several gallants, whose identity was concealed by silken vizards, created huge +amusement by endeavouring to steal a kiss from Lady Hamilton. She feigned +shyness, then haughtiness, then anger; then she ran. They were after her and +about her in an instant. There were cries of “A kiss!” “A +kiss!” “This way!” “Make a circle or she’ll escape +us!”</p> + +<p>A dozen kisses so were stolen by the eager gallants before my lady broke +away, stamping her foot in indignation, as she exclaimed:</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_184'></a>184</span>“Nay, I am +very angry, very–”</p> + +<p>“That there were no more, wench!” laughed Buckingham. +“Marry, ’tis a merry night when Portsmouth reigns. Long live the +Duchess in the King’s heart!”</p> + +<p>“So you may capture its fairer favourite, friend Buckingham?” +suggested the King, softly; and there was no hidden meaning in his speech, for +the King suspected that Buckingham’s heart as well was not at +Portsmouth’s and Buckingham knew that the King suspected it.</p> + +<p>Buckingham was the prince of courtiers; he bowed low and, saying much without +saying anything, replied respectfully:</p> + +<p>“So I may console her, Sire, that she is out-beautied by France +to-night.”</p> + +<p>“Out-beautied! Not bidden, thou mean’st,” exclaimed the King, his +thoughts roving toward Nelly’s terrace. Ah, how he longed to be there! +“The room is close,” he fretted. “Come, gallants, to the +promenade!”</p> + +<p>He was dressed in white and gold; and <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a +id='page_185'></a>185</span> a princely prince he looked, indeed, as the +courtiers separated for him to pass out between them.</p> + +<p>All followed save Buckingham, whom Portsmouth’s eye detained.</p> + +<p>She broke into a joyous laugh as she turned from the tapestry-curtains, +through which she could see his Majesty–the centre of a mirthful scene +without.</p> + +<p>“What say you now, my lord?” she asked, triumphantly, of +Buckingham. “I am half avenged already, and the articles half signed. The +King is here despite his Madame Gwyn, and in a playful mood that may be tuned to +love.”</p> + +<p>Buckingham’s ardour did not kindle as she hoped.</p> + +<p>“Merriment is oft but Sadness’s mask, Louise,” he replied, +thoughtfully.</p> + +<p>“What meanest thou?” she asked, in her nervous, Gallic way, and +as quickly, her mind anticipating, answered: “This trifle of the gossips +that Charles advances the player’s whim to found a hospital at Chelsea, +for broken-down old soldiers? <i>Ce n’est rien!”</i></p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_186'></a>186</span>She broke into a +mocking laugh.</p> + +<p>“Aye!” replied Buckingham, quietly but significantly. “The +orders are issued for its building and the people are cheering Nell throughout +the realm.”</p> + +<p>“<i>Ma foi!</i>” came from the Duchess’s contemptuous lips. +“And what say the rabble of Portsmouth?”</p> + +<p>“That she is Louis’s pensioner sent here from France–a +spy!” he answered, quickly and forcefully too. “The hawkers cry it +in the streets.”</p> + +<p>“Fools! Fools!” she mused. Then, making sure that no arras had +ears, she continued: “Before the night is done, thou shalt hear that +Luxembourg has fallen to the French–Mark!–Luxembourg! Feed the +rabble on that, my lord. Heaven preserve King Louis!”</p> + +<p>The Duke started incredulously. When had Portsmouth seen the King? and by +what arts had she won the royal consent? A score of questions trembled on his +lips–and yet were checked before the utterance. Not an intimation before +of her success had reached his ear, though he had <span class='pagenum +pncolor'><a id='page_187'></a>187</span> advised with the Duchess almost daily +since their accidental meeting below Nell’s terrace. Indeed, in his heart, +he had never believed that she would be able so to dupe the King. The shadow +from the axe which fell upon Charles I. still cast its warning gloom athwart the +walls of Whitehall; and, in the face of the temper of the English people and of +well-known treaties, the acquiescence of Charles II. in Louis’s project +would be but madness. Luxembourg was the key strategetically to the Netherlands +and the states beyond. Its fall meant the augmentation of the Empire of Louis, +the personal ignominy of Charles!</p> + +<p>“Luxembourg!” He repeated the word cautiously. “King +Charles did not consent–”</p> + +<p>“Nay,” replied the Duchess, in her sweetest way, “but I +knew he would; and so I sent the message in advance.”</p> + +<p>“Forgery! ’Twas boldly done, Louise,” cried Buckingham, in tones +of admiration mixed with fear.</p> + +<p>“I knew my power, my lord,” she said <span class='pagenum +pncolor'><a id='page_188'></a>188</span> confidently; and her eyes glistened +with womanly pride as she added: “The consent will come.”</p> + +<p>Buckingham’s eyes–usually so frank–fell; and, for some +seconds, he stood seemingly lost in abstraction over the revelations made by the +Duchess. He was, however, playing a deeper game than he appeared to play. +Apparently in thoughtlessness, he began to toy with a ring which hung upon a +ribbon about his neck and which till then had been cautiously concealed.</p> + +<p>“Nay, what have you there?” questioned Portsmouth.</p> + +<p>Buckingham’s face assumed an expression of surprise. He pretended not +to comprehend the import of her words.</p> + +<p>She pointed to the ring.</p> + +<p>He glanced at it as though he regretted it had been seen, then added +carelessly, apparently to appease but really to whet the Duchess’s +curiosity:</p> + +<p>“Merely a ring the King gave Nell.”</p> + +<p>There was more than curiosity now in Portsmouth’s eyes.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_189'></a>189</span>“I +borrowed it to show it you,” continued Buckingham, indifferently, then +asked, with tantalizing calmness: “Is your mission quite +complete?”</p> + +<p>With difficulty, the Duchess mastered herself. Without replying, she walked +slowly toward the table, in troubled thought. The mask of crime revealed itself +in her beautiful features, as she said, half to herself:</p> + +<p>“I have a potion I brought from France.”</p> + +<p>She was of the Latin race and poison was a heritage.</p> + +<p>Buckingham caught the words not meant for him, and realized too well their +sinister meaning. Poison Nell! His eyes swept the room fearfully and he +shuddered. He hastened to Portsmouth’s side, and in cold whispers +importuned her:</p> + +<p>“For Heaven’s mercy, woman, as you love yourself and +me–poison is an unhealthy diet to administer in England.”</p> + +<p>The Duchess turned upon him impatiently. The black lines faded slowly from +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_190'></a>190</span> her face; but they +still were there, beneath the beauty-lines.</p> + +<p>“My servants have watched her house without avail,” she sneered. +“Your plan is useless; my plan will work.”</p> + +<p>“Stay!” pleaded Buckingham, still fearful. “We can +ourselves entice some adventurous spirit up Nell’s terrace, then trap him. +So our end is reached.”</p> + +<p>“Aye,” replied the Duchess, in milder mood, realizing that she +had been over-hasty at least in speech, “the minx presumes to love the +King, and so is honest! But of her later. The treaties! He shall sign +to-night–to-night, I say.”</p> + +<p>With a triumphant air, she pointed to the quills and sand upon a table in +readiness for his signing.</p> + +<p>Buckingham smiled approvingly; and in his smile lurked flattery so adroit +that it pleased the Duchess despite herself.</p> + +<p>“Lord Hyde, St. Albans and the rest,” said he, “are here to +aid the cause.”</p> + +<p>“Bah!” answered Portsmouth, with a shrug. “In the field, +men; at court, women! This girl has outwitted you all. <span class='pagenum +pncolor'><a id='page_191'></a>191</span> I must accomplish my mission alone. +Charles must be Louis’s pensioner in full; England the slave of France! My +fortune–<i>Le Grand Roi’s</i> regard–hang upon it.”</p> + +<p>Buckingham cautioned her with a startled gesture.</p> + +<p>“Nay,” smiled Portsmouth, complacently, “I may speak +frankly, my lord; for your head is on the same block still with mine.”</p> + +<p>“And my heart, Louise,” he said, in admiration. “Back to +the King! Do nothing rash. We will banish thy rival, dear hostess.”</p> + +<p>He did not add, save in thought, that Nell’s banishment, if left to +him, would be to his own country estate.</p> + +<p>There was almost a touch of affection in the Duchess’s voice as she +prepared to join the King.</p> + +<p>“Leave all to me, my lord,” she said, then courtesied low.</p> + +<p>“Yea, all but Nell!” reflected his lordship, as he watched her +depart. “With this ring, I’ll keep thee wedded to jealous <span +class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_192'></a>192</span> interest, and so enrich +my purse and power. Thou art a great woman, fair France; I half love thee +myself. But thou knowest only a moiety of my purpose. The other half is +Nell!”</p> + +<p>He stood absorbed in his own thoughts.</p> + +<p>The draperies at the further doorway, on which was worked in Gobelin +tapestry a forest with its grand, imposing oaks, were pushed nervously aside. +Jack Hart entered, mask in hand, and scanned the room with skeptic eye.</p> + +<p>“A happy meeting,” mused Buckingham, reflecting upon Hart’s +one-time ardour for Mistress Nell and upon the possibility that that ardour, if +directed by himself, might yet compromise Nell in the King’s eyes and lead +to the realization of his own fond dreams of greater wealth and power and, still +more sweet, to the possession of his choice among all the beauties of the +realm.</p> + +<p>“It is a sad hour,” thought Hart, glancing at the merry dancers +through the arch, “when all the world, like players, wear +masks.”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_193'></a>193</span>Buckingham +assumed an air of bonhomie.</p> + +<p>“Whither away, Master Hart?” he called after the player, who +started perceptibly at his voice. “Let not thy fancy play truant to this +gay assemblage, to mope in St. James’s Park.”</p> + +<p>“My lord!” exclaimed Hart, hotly. The fire, however, was gone in +an instant; and he added, evidently under strong constraint: “Pardon; but +we prefer to change the subject.”</p> + +<p>“The drift’s the same,” chuckled the shrewd Buckingham; +“we may turn it to advantage.” He approached the player in a +friendly manner. “Be not angry,” he exclaimed soothingly; “for +there’s a rift even in the clouds of love. Brighter, man; for King Charles +was seeking your wits but now.”</p> + +<p>“He’d have me play court-fool for him?” asked the +melancholy mime, who had in his nature somewhat of the cynicism of Jaques, +without his grand imaginings of soul. “There are many off the stage, my +lord, in better practice.” <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a +id='page_194'></a>194</span> “True, most true,” acquiesced +Buckingham; “I could point them out.”</p> + +<p>He would have continued in this vein but beyond the door, whence Hart had +just appeared, leading by a stair-way of cupids to the entrance to the palace, +arose the sound of many voices in noisy altercation.</p> + +<p>“Hark ye, hark!” he exclaimed, in an alarmed tone. “What +is’t? Confusion in the great hallway below. We’ll see +to’t.”</p> + +<p>He had assumed a certain supervision of the palace for the night. With the +player as a body-guard, he accordingly made a hasty exit.</p> + +<div class='figcenter'> +<img alt='' src='images/nell-231.jpg' /> +</div> + +<hr class='pb' /> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_195'></a>195</span><a id='link_12'></a>CHAPTER XII</h2> + +<div class='center'> +<p class='center'><i>Beau Adair is my name.</i></p> +</div><!-- centered --> + +<p>The room was not long vacant. The hostess herself returned. She was +radiant.</p> + +<p>As she crossed the threshold, she glanced back proudly at the revellers, who, +led by his Majesty, were turning night into day with their merry-making. She had +the right, indeed, to be proud; for the evening, though scarce half spent, +bespoke a complete triumph for her entertainment. This was the more gratifying +too, in that she knew that there were many at court who did not wish the +“imported” Duchess, as they called her, or her function well, though +they always smiled sweetly at each meeting and at each parting and deigned now +to feast beyond the limit of gentility upon her rich wines and collations.</p> + +<p>The <i>bal masqué</i>, however, as we have seen, was with the Duchess but a +means <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_196'></a>196</span> to an end. +She took from the hand of a pretty page the treaties, lately re-drawn by +Bouillon, and glanced hastily over the parchments to see that her instructions +from Louis were covered by their words. A smile played on her arching lips as +she read and re-read and realized how near she was to victory.</p> + +<p>“’Tis Portsmouth’s night to-night!” she mused. “My +great mission to England is nearly ended. Dear France, I feel that I was born +for thy advancement.”</p> + +<p>She seated herself by the table, where the materials for writing had been +placed, and further dwelt upon the outcome of the royal agreements, their +contingencies and triumphs. She could write Charles Rex almost as well as the +King, she thought, as her eye caught the places left for his signature.</p> + +<p>“Bouillon never fails me,” she muttered. “Drawn by King +Charles’s consent, except perchance some trifling articles which I have +had interlined for Louis’s sake. We need not speak of them. It would be +troublesome to Charles. A <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a +id='page_197'></a>197</span> little name and seal will make these papers +history.”</p> + +<p>Her reflections were interrupted by the return of Buckingham, who was +laughing so that he could scarcely speak.</p> + +<p>“What is ’t?” she asked, petulantly.</p> + +<p>“The guard have stayed but now a gallant, Irish youth,” replied +he, as best he could for laughter, “who swore that he had letters to your +highness. Oh, he swore, indeed; then pleaded; then threatened that he would +fight them all with single hand. Of course, he won the ladies’ hearts, as +they entered the great hall, by his boyish swagger; but not the guards. Your +orders were imperative–that none unbidden to the ball could +enter.”</p> + +<p>“’Tis well,” cried Portsmouth. “None, none! Letters to me! +Did he say from whom?”</p> + +<p>“He said,” continued Buckingham, still laughing, “that he +was under orders of his master to place them only in the Duchess’s hands. +Oh, he is a very lordly youth.”</p> + +<p>The Duke throughout made a sad <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a +id='page_198'></a>198</span> attempt at amusing imitations of the brogue of the +strange, youthful, Irish visitor who, with so much importunity, sought a +hearing.</p> + +<p>Portsmouth reflected a moment and then said: “I will see him, +Buckingham, but briefly.”</p> + +<p>Buckingham, not a little surprised, bowed and departed graciously to convey +the bidding.</p> + +<p>The Duchess lost herself again in thought. “His message may have +import,” she reflected. “Louis sends strange messengers +ofttimes.”</p> + +<p>In the midst of her reverie, the tapestry at the door was again pushed back, +cautiously this time, then eagerly. There entered the prettiest spark that ever +graced a kingdom or trod a measure.</p> + +<p>It was Nell, accoutred as a youth; and a bold play truly she was making. Her +face revealed that she herself was none too sure of the outcome.</p> + +<p>“By my troth,” she thought, as she glanced uncomfortably about +the great room, “I feel as though I were all <span class='pagenum +pncolor'><a id='page_199'></a>199</span> breeches.” She shivered. +“It is such a little way through these braveries to me.”</p> + +<p>Her eyes turned involuntarily to the corner where Portsmouth sat, now +dreaming of far-off France.</p> + +<p>“The Duchess!” her lips breathed, almost aloud, in her +excitement. “So you’d play hostess to his Majesty,” she +thought, “give a royal ball and leave poor Nelly home, would +you?”</p> + +<p>The Duchess was conscious only of a presence.</p> + +<p>“<i>Garçon!</i>” she called, without looking up.</p> + +<p>Nell jumped a foot.</p> + +<p>“That shook me to the boots,” she ejaculated, softly.</p> + +<p>“<i>Garçon!</i>” again called the impatient Duchess.</p> + +<p>“Madame,” answered Nell, fearfully, the words seeming to stick in +her fair throat, as she hastily removed her hat and bethought her that she must +have a care or she would lose her head as well, by forgetting that she was an +Irishman with a brogue.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_200'></a>200</span>“Who are +you?” asked Portsmouth, haughtily, as, rising, with surprised eyes, she +became aware of the presence of a stranger.</p> + +<p>Indeed, it is not strange that she was surprised. The youth who stood before +her was dressed from top to toe in gray–the silver-gray which lends a +colour to the cheek and piquancy to the form. The dress was of the latest cut. +The hat had the longest plume. The cloak hung gracefully save where the +glistening sword broke its falling lines. The boots were neat, well rounded and +well cut, encasing a jaunty leg. The dress was edged with silver.</p> + +<p>Ah, the strange youth was a love, indeed, with his bright, sparkling eyes, +his lips radiant with smiles, his curls falling to his shoulders.</p> + +<p>“Well,” stammered Nell, in awkward hesitation but in the richest +brogue, as the Duchess repeated her inquiry, “I’m just I, +madame.”</p> + +<p>The Duchess smiled despite herself.</p> + +<p>“You’re just you,” she said. “That’s very +clear.”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_201'></a>201</span>“Yes, +that’s very clear,” reiterated Nell, still fearful of her +ground.</p> + +<p>“A modest masker, possibly,” suggested Portsmouth, observing the +youth’s embarrassment and wishing to assist him.</p> + +<p>“Yea, very modest,” replied Nell, her speech still stumbling, +“almost ashamed.”</p> + +<p>Portsmouth’s eyes looked sharply at her.</p> + +<p>“She suspects me,” thought Nell, and her heart leaped into her +throat. “I am lost–boots and all.”</p> + +<p>“Your name?” demanded the Duchess again, impatiently.</p> + +<p>For the life of her Nell could not think of it.</p> + +<p>“You see,” she replied evasively, “I’m in London for +the first time in my present self, madame, and–”</p> + +<p>“Your name and mission, sir?” The tone was imperative.</p> + +<p>Nell’s wits returned to her.</p> + +<p>“Beau Adair is my name,” she stammered, “and your service +my mission.”</p> + +<p>It was out, though it had like to have choked her, and Nell was more herself +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_202'></a>202</span> again. The worst +she had feared was that the Duchess might discover her identity and so turn the +tables and make her the laughing-stock at court. She grew, indeed, quite hopeful +as she observed a kindly smile play upon the Duchess’s lips and caught the +observation: “Beau Adair! A pretty name, and quite a pretty +fellow.”</p> + +<p>A smile of self-satisfaction and a low bow were Nell’s reply.</p> + +<p>“Vain coxcomb!” cried Portsmouth, reprovingly, though she was +highly amused and even pleased with the strange youth’s conceit.</p> + +<p>“Nay; if I admire not myself,” wistfully suggested Nell, in +reply, with pretence of much modesty, “who will praise poor me in this +great palace?”</p> + +<p>“You are new at court?” asked Portsmouth, doubtingly.</p> + +<p>“Quite new,” asserted Nell, gaining confidence with each speech. +“My London tailor made a man of me only to-day.”</p> + +<p>“A man of you only to-day!” cried the Duchess, in wonderment.</p> + +<p>“He assured me, madame,” Nell hastened <span class='pagenum +pncolor'><a id='page_203'></a>203</span> to explain, “that the fashion +makes the man. He did not like my former fashion. It hid too much that was good, +he said. I am the bearer of this letter to the great Duchess of Portsmouth; that +you are she, I know by your royalty.”</p> + +<p>She bowed with a jaunty, boyish bow, sweeping the floor with her plumed hat, +as she offered the letter.</p> + +<p>“Oh, you are the gentleman,” said Portsmouth, recalling her +request to Buckingham, which for the instant had quite escaped her. She took the +letter and broke the seal eagerly.</p> + +<p>“She does not suspect,” thought Nell; and she crossed quickly to +the curtained arch, leading to the music and the dancing, in the hope that she +might see the King.</p> + +<p>Portsmouth, who was absorbed in the letter, did not observe her.</p> + +<p>“From Rochet! Dear Rochet!” mused the Duchess, as she read aloud +the lines: “‘The bearer of this letter is a young gallant, very modest and +very little versed in the sins of court.’”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_204'></a>204</span>“Very +little,” muttered Nell, with a mischievous wink, still intent upon the +whereabouts and doings of the King.</p> + +<p>“‘He is of excellent birth,’” continued the Duchess, +reading, “‘brave, young and to be trusted–<i>to be trusted</i>. I +commend him to your kindness, protection and service, during his stay in +town.’”</p> + +<p>She reflected a moment intently upon the letter, then looked up quickly. Nell +returned, somewhat confused, to her side.</p> + +<p>“This is a very strong letter, sir,” said Portsmouth, with an +inquiring look.</p> + +<p>“Yes, very strong,” promptly acquiesced Nell; and she chuckled as +she recalled that she had written it herself, taking near a fortnight in the +composition. Her fingers ached at the memory.</p> + +<p>“Where did you leave Rochet?” inquired the Duchess, almost +incredulously.</p> + +<p>“Leave Rochet?” thought Nell, aghast. “I knew she would ask +me something like that.”</p> + +<p>There was a moment’s awkwardness–Nell was on difficult ground. +She feared lest she might make a misstep which <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a +id='page_205'></a>205</span> would reveal her identity. The Duchess grew +impatient. Finally, Nell mustered courage and made a bold play for it, as ever +true to her brogue.</p> + +<p>“Where did I leave Rochet?” she said, as if she had but then +realized the Duchess’s meaning, then boldly answered: “In +Cork.”</p> + +<p>“In Cork!” cried Portsmouth, in blank surprise. “I thought +his mission took him to Dublin.” She eyed the youth closely and wondered +if he really knew the mission.</p> + +<p>“Nay; Cork!” firmly repeated Nell; for she dared not retract, +lest she awaken suspicion. “I am quite sure it was Cork I left him +in.”</p> + +<p>“Quite sure?” exclaimed the Duchess, her astonishment increasing +with each confused reply.</p> + +<p>“Well, you see, Duchess,” said Nell, “we had an adventure. +It was dark; and we were more solicitous to know whither the way than +whence.”</p> + +<p>The Duchess broke into a merry laugh. The youth had captured her, with his +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_206'></a>206</span> wistful, Irish +eyes, his brogue and his roguish ways.</p> + +<p>“We give a ball to-night,” she said, gaily. “You shall stay +and see the King.”</p> + +<p>“The King!” cried Nell, feigning fright. “I should tremble +so to see the King.”</p> + +<p>“You need not fear,” laughed the hostess. “He will not know +you.”</p> + +<p>“I trust not, truly,” sighed Nell, with much meaning, as she +scanned her scanty masculine attire.</p> + +<p>“Take my mask,” said the Duchess, graciously. “As hostess, +I cannot wear it.”</p> + +<p>Nell seized it eagerly. She would be safe with this little band of black +across her eyes. Even the King would not know her.</p> + +<p>“I shall feel more comfortable behind this,” she said, +naïvely.</p> + +<p>“Did you ever mask?” inquired Portsmouth, gaily.</p> + +<p>“Nay, I am too honest to deceive,” answered Nell; and her eyes +grew so round and so big, who would not believe her?</p> + +<div class='figcenter'> +<a id='link_i9'></a><img src='images/nell-206.jpg' alt='' /> +<p class='center caption'> +AS A CAVALIER MISTRESS NELL DECEIVES EVEN THE KING. +</p> +</div> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_207'></a>207</span>“But you +are at court now,” laughed the Duchess, patronizingly. “Masking is +the first sin at court.”</p> + +<p>“Then I’ll begin with the first sin,” said Nell, slyly, +raising the Duchess’s fingers to her lips, “and run the +gamut.”</p> + +<p>They passed together into the great ball-room, Nell exercising all her arts +of fascination–and they were many. The music ceased as they entered. The +dancers, and more especially the ladies, eyed curiously the jaunty figure of the +new-comer. There were merry whisperings among them.</p> + +<p>“Who can he be?” asked one, eagerly. “What a pretty +fellow!” exclaimed a second, in admiration. “I’ve been eying +him,” said a third, complacently.</p> + +<p>The men too caught the infection.</p> + +<p>“Who can he be?” inquired Rochester.</p> + +<p>“Marry, I’ll find out,” said Lady Hamilton, with an air of +confidence, having recovered by this time from the kisses which had been thrust +upon her and being now ready for a new flirtation.</p> + +<p>She approached Adair, artfully, and <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a +id='page_208'></a>208</span> inquired: “Who art thou, my butterfly? Tell +me now, e’er I die.” Her attitude was a credit to the extremes of +euphuism.</p> + +<p>There was general laughter at her presumptuous and effete pose and +phrase.</p> + +<p>The ladies had gathered about the new hero, like bees about new clover. The +gallants stood, or sat as wall-flowers in a row, deserted. The King too had been +abandoned for the lion of the hour and sat disconsolate.</p> + +<p>“Peace, jealous ones!” cried Lady Hamilton, reprovingly, then +continued, with a winning way: “I know thou art Apollo himself, good +sir.”</p> + +<p>Nell smiled complacently, though she felt her mask, to assure herself that it +was firm.</p> + +<p>“Apollo, truly,” she said, jauntily, “if thou art his lyre, +sweet lady.”</p> + +<p>Lady Hamilton turned to the Duchess.</p> + +<p>“Oh, your grace,” she asked, languishingly, “tell us in a +breath, tell us, who is this dainty beau of the ball?”</p> + +<p>“How am I to know my guests,” answered Portsmouth, feigning +innocence, <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_209'></a>209</span> +“with their vizors down? Nay, sweet sir, unmask and please the ladies. +I’faith, who art thou?”</p> + +<p>The hostess was delighted. The popularity of the new-comer was lending a +unique novelty to her entertainment. She was well pleased that she had detained +Monsieur Adair. She thought she saw a jealous look in the King’s usually +carelessly indifferent gaze when she encouraged the affectionate glances of the +Irish youth.</p> + +<p>“I’faith,” laughed Nell, in reply, “I know not, +Duchess.”</p> + +<p>“D’ye hear?” said Portsmouth. “He knows not +himself.”</p> + +<p>“But I have a suspicion, Duchess,” sighed Nell.</p> + +<p>“Hark ye,” laughed Portsmouth, with a very pretty pout, “he +has a suspicion, ladies.”</p> + +<p>“Nay, you will tell?” protested Nell, as the ladies gathered +closer about her in eager expectation.</p> + +<p>There was a unison of voices to the contrary.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_210'></a>210</span>“Trust us, +fair sir,” said one. “Oh, we are good at keeping secrets.”</p> + +<p>“Then, ’twixt you and me, I am–” began Nell; and she +hesitated, teasingly.</p> + +<p>The group about grew more eager, more wild with curiosity.</p> + +<p>“Yes, yes–” they exclaimed together.</p> + +<p>“I am,” said Nell, “the Pied Piper of Hamlin +Town.”</p> + +<p>“The rat-catcher,” cried Portsmouth. “Oh, oh, +oh!”</p> + +<p>There was a lifting of skirts, revealing many high-born insteps, and a +scramble for chairs, as the ladies reflected upon the long lines of rats in the +train of the mesmeric Pied Piper.</p> + +<p>“Flee, flee!” screamed Lady Hamilton, playfully. “He may +pipe us into the mountains after the children.”</p> + +<p>“You fill me with laughter, ladies,” said Portsmouth to her +guests. “The man does not live who can entrap me.”</p> + +<p>“The woman does,” thought Nell, as, mock-heroically, she placed +near her lips a reed-pipe which she had snatched from a musician in the midst of +the fun; and, <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_211'></a>211</span> +whistling a merry tune which the pipe took no part in, she circled about the +room, making quite a wizard’s exit.</p> + +<p>The ladies, heart and soul in the fun, fell into line and followed, as if +spell-bound by the magic of the Piper.</p> + +<p>Charles, James, Rochester and the gallants, who remained, each of whom had +been in turn deserted by his fair lady, unmasked and looked at one another in +wonderment. Of one accord, they burst into a peal of laughter.</p> + +<p>“Sublime audacity,” exclaimed Charles. “Who is this curled +darling–this ball-room Adonis? Ods-pitikins, we are in the sear and yellow +leaf.”</p> + +<p>“Truly, Sire,” said James, dryly, “I myself prefer a +gathering of men only.”</p> + +<p>“Brother James,” forthwith importuned the King, waggishly, +“will you favour me with your lily-white hand for the next dance? I am +driven to extremity.”</p> + +<p>“Pardon, Sire,” replied James, quite humorously for him, “I +am engaged to a handsomer man.”</p> + +<p>“Odsfish,” laughed Charles, “King <span class='pagenum +pncolor'><a id='page_212'></a>212</span> Charles of England a wall-flower. Come, +Rochester, my epitaph.”</p> + +<p>The King threw himself into a chair, in an attitude of hopeless resignation, +quite delicious.</p> + +<p>Rochester perked up with the conceit and humour of the situation. With the +utmost dignity, and with the quizzical, pinched brow of the labouring muse, +halting at each line, he said:</p> + +<div class='poetry'> +<p><i>“Here lies our sovereign lord, the King,<br /> Whose +word no man relies on;<br /> Who never said a foolish thing,<br /> + And never did a wise one!”</i></p> </div><!-- poetry --> + +<p>The post-mortem verse was sufficiently subtle and clever to revive the +King’s drooping spirits; and he joined heartily in the applause.</p> + +<p>“The matter,” he said, approvingly, “is easily accounted +for–my discourse is my own, my actions are my Ministry’s.”</p> + +<p>There was a <i>frou-frou</i> of petticoats. The hostess entered gaily.</p> + +<p>“The King! The courtiers! Unmasked!” she exclaimed, in coy +reproof. <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_213'></a>213</span> +“Fy, fy, your Majesty! For shame! Gallants! Are you children that I must +pair you off?”</p> + +<p>“We are seeking consolation,” suggested Charles, dryly; +“for modest souls have small chance to-night, Louise.”</p> + +<p>He nodded significantly in the direction of the great ball-room, where the +chatter of women’s voices betokened the unrivalled popularity of Nell.</p> + +<p>“When did you turn modest, Sire?” slyly inquired Portsmouth, with +a look of love.</p> + +<p>“When I was out-stripped in audacity by yon Hibernian youth,” +replied the King, seriously. “Who is this peacock you are +introducing?”</p> + +<p>A peal of laughter from without punctuated the King’s speech. It was +the reward of a wit-thrust from Nell.</p> + +<p>“The Piper the maids would now unmask?” queried Portsmouth, +rapturously. “Marry, ’tis the fascinating Beau Adair of Cork, +entertaining the ladies. Oh, he is a love, Sire; he does not sulk in corners. +See! See!”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_214'></a>214</span>She pointed +toward the archway, through which Nell was plainly visible. She was strutting +jauntily back and forth upon the promenade. It is unnecessary to say that she +was escorted by the assembled fair ones.</p> + +<p>As Nell caught the eye of the hostess in the distance, she gaily tossed a +kiss to her.</p> + +<p>“’Sdeath, that I were a woman to hope for one of his languishing +smiles,” observed Buckingham.</p> + +<p>“Even the old hens run at his call,” sneered the pious James, in +discontent; for he too had been deserted by his ladylove and even before the +others.</p> + +<p>The King looked at his brother with an air of bantering seriousness, to the +delight of all assembled.</p> + +<p>“Brother James is jealous of the old ones only,” he observed. +“You know his favourites are given him by his priests for +penance.”</p> + +<p>A merry ripple ran through the group.</p> + +<p>The hostess took advantage of the King’s speech to make a point.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_215'></a>215</span>“And you +are jealous of the young ones only,” she said, slyly, quickly adding as a +bid for jealousy: “Pooh, pooh! <i>Le Beau</i> had letters to me, Sire. +Nay, we do not love him very much. We have not as yet had time.”</p> + +<p>“Alas, alas,” sighed Charles, with drooping countenance, +“that it should come to this.”</p> + +<p>“My liege, I protest–” cried Portsmouth, hastily, fearful +lest she might have gone too far. “To-night is the first I ever saw the +youth. I adore you, Sire.”</p> + +<p>“Not a word!” commanded Charles, with mock-heroic mien. He waved +his hand imperatively to his followers. “Friends,” he continued, +“we will mix masks and dominoes and to’t again to drown our +sorrow.”</p> + +<p>“In the Thames?” inquired James, facetiously for him.</p> + +<p>“Tush! In the punch-bowl, pious brother!” protested the Merry +Monarch, with great dignity. “You know, a very little water will drown +even a king.”</p> + +<p>The gallants mixed masks and dominoes <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a +id='page_216'></a>216</span> in obedience to the royal wish. The King, sighing +deeply, cast a hopeless glance at Portsmouth, not without its tinge of humour. +He then sauntered slowly toward the windows of the great ball-room, followed +subserviently by all the courtiers, save Buckingham, who was lost in converse +with player Hart.</p> + +<p>“Hark ye,” suddenly broke off Buckingham, observing the approach +of Adair and his adorers, “here come again the merry maskers. By Bacchus, +the little bantam still reigns supreme. The King and his gallants in tears. Let +us join the mourners, Master Hart.”</p> + +<p>As the Duke and the player, the former assuming a fraternal air for an end of +his own, joined the royal group, Nell re-entered gaily, every inch the man. She +was still surrounded by the ladies, who, fluttering, flattering and chattering, +hung upon her every word. With one hand she toyed with her mask, which she had +good-naturedly dropped as none were about who knew her. She clapped it, however, +quickly to her eyes at sight of the King.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_217'></a>217</span>“You +overwhelm me, my fair ones,” she said, with spirit, as she held court in +the centre of the room. “I assure you, I am not used to such +attention–from the ladies.”</p> + +<p>“Our hospitality is beggarly to your deserts,” sighed Portsmouth, +who had joined the bevy, but loud enough for the King to hear.</p> + +<p>“You quite o’erpower me, Duchess,” answered Nell, modestly, +adding for the satisfaction of her own sense of humour: “No wonder we men +are fools, if you women talk like this.”</p> + +<p>While she was speaking, Lady Hamilton whispered facetiously in +Portsmouth’s ear.</p> + +<p>“Beau Adair married!” exclaimed the Duchess, in response. +“It cannot be. He looks too gay for a married man.”</p> + +<p>“No confidences, my pretty ones,” observed Nell, reprovingly.</p> + +<p>The hostess hesitated; then she out with it in a merry strain.</p> + +<p>“Lady Hamilton asks after the wife you left at home.”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_218'></a>218</span>“My +wife!” cried Nell, in astonishment; for this phase of her masquerading had +not presented itself to her before. “Great Heavens, I have no wife–I +assure you, ladies!”</p> + +<p>“So?” observed Portsmouth, her curiosity awakened. +“Modest–for a bachelor.”</p> + +<p>“A bachelor!” exclaimed Nell, now fully <i>en rapport</i> with +the spirit of the situation. “Well,–not exactly a bachelor +either,–ladies.”</p> + +<p>“Alack-a-day,” sighed Lady Hamilton, with a knowing glance at her +companions, “neither a bachelor nor a married man!”</p> + +<p>“Well, you see–” explained Nell, adroitly, “that +might seem a trifle queer, but–I’m in mourning–deeply in +mourning, ladies.”</p> + +<p>She drew a kerchief from her dress and feigned bitter tears.</p> + +<p>“A widower!” tittered Lady Hamilton, heartlessly. “Our +united congratulations, sir.”</p> + +<p>The other ladies one by one sobbed <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a +id='page_219'></a>219</span> with affected sympathy, wiping their eyes tenderly, +however, lest they might remove the rich colour from their cheeks.</p> + +<p>“Mesdames,” said Nell, reprovingly, “the memory is sacred. +Believe me, very sacred.”</p> + +<p>She fell apparently once again to weeping bitterly.</p> + +<p>“The memory is always sacred–with men,” observed +Portsmouth, for the benefit of her guests, not excepting the Irish youth. +“Nay, tell us the name of the fair one who left you so young. My heart +goes out to you, dear Beau.”</p> + +<p>“Kind hostess,” replied Nell, assuming her tenderest tones, +“the name of my departed self is–Nell!”</p> + +<p>Hart caught the word. The player was standing near, reflecting on the scene +and on the honeyed words of the Duke of Buckingham, who was preparing the way +that he might use him.</p> + +<p>“Nell!” he muttered. “Who spoke that name?”</p> + +<p>The hostess too was startled.</p> + +<p>“Nell!” she exclaimed, with contending <span class='pagenum +pncolor'><a id='page_220'></a>220</span> emotions. “Strange! Another +cavalier who graces <i>mon bal masqué</i> to-night has lost a loved one whose +name is Nell. Ah, but she was unworthy of his noble love.”</p> + +<p>She spoke pointedly at the masked King, who started perceptibly.</p> + +<p>“Yes,” he thought; for his conscience smote him, +“unworthy–he of her.”</p> + +<p>“Unworthy, truly, if he dances so soon and his own Nell dead,” +added Nell, reflectively, but so that all might hear, more especially +Charles.</p> + +<p>“Perchance Nell too thinks so,” thought he, as he restlessly +walked away, sighing: “I wish I were with her on the terrace.”</p> + +<p>“’Sdeath, Duchess,” continued Nell abruptly, in assumed horror at +the sudden thought, “the lady’s spirit may visit the ball, to the +confusion of us all. Such things have been.”</p> + +<p>“The Nell I mean,” said Portsmouth, with a confident smile, +“will not venture here, e’en in spirit.”</p> + +<p>Nell assumed a baby-innocence of face.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_221'></a>221</span>“She has +not been bidden, I presume?” she queried.</p> + +<p>“The vixen would not stop for asking,” declared Portsmouth, +almost fiercely.</p> + +<p>“Come without asking?” cried Nell, as if she could not believe +that there could be such people upon the earth. “How ill-bred! Thine ear, +loved one. My Nell revisits the world again at midnight. The +rendezvous–St. James’s Park.”</p> + +<p>Hart brushed close enough to the group, in his biting curiosity, to catch her +half-whisper to Portsmouth. He at once sought a window and fresh air, chafing +with surprise and indignation at what he had overheard.</p> + +<p>“St. James’s at midnight,” he muttered. “’Tis my +Nell’s abode.”</p> + +<p>The Duchess herself stood stunned at what appeared to her a possible +revelation of great import.</p> + +<p>“St. James’s!” she thought. “Can he mean Madame Gwyn? +No, no!”</p> + +<p>The look of suspicion which for an instant had clouded her face changed to +one of merriment, under Adair’s magic glance.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_222'></a>222</span>“And you +would desert me for such a fleshless sprite?” she asked.</p> + +<p>“Not so,” said Nell, with a winning look; “but, when my +better-half returns to life, I surely cannot refuse an +interview–especially an she come from afar.”</p> + +<p>Nell’s eyes arose with an expression of sadness, while her finger +pointed down–ward in the direction of what she deemed the probable abode +of her departed “Nell.” Her lips twitched in merriment, however, +despite her efforts to the contrary; and the hostess fell a-laughing.</p> + +<p>“Ladies,” she cried, as she appealed to one and all, “is +not <i>le Beau</i> a delight–so different from ordinary men?”</p> + +<p>“I am not an ordinary man, I assure you,” Nell hastened to +declare.</p> + +<p>This assertion was acquiesced in by a buzz of pretty compliments from the +entire bevy of ladies. “Positively charming!” exclaimed one. +“A perfect love!” said another.</p> + +<p>Nell listened resignedly.</p> + +<p>“’Sheart,” she said, at length, with an air of <i>ennui</i>, +“I cannot help it. ’Tis all <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a +id='page_223'></a>223</span> part of being a man, you know.”</p> + +<p>“Would that all men were like you, <i>le Beau</i>!” sighed the +hostess, not forgetting to glance at the King, who again sat disconsolate, in +the midst of his attendant courtiers, drawn up, as in line of battle, against +the wall.</p> + +<p>“Heaven help us if they were!” slyly suggested Nell.</p> + +<p>Rochester, who had been watching the scene in his mischievous, artistic way, +drew from Portsmouth’s compliment to Adair another meaning. He was a +mixture ’twixt a man of arts and letters and Satan’s own–a man after +the King’s own heart. Turning to the King, with no desire to appease the +mischief done, he said, banteringly:</p> + +<p>“Egad, there’s a rap at you, Sire. France would make you +jealous.”</p> + +<p>The Duke of Buckingham too, though he appeared asleep, had seen it all.</p> + +<p>“And succeeds, methinks,” he reflected, glancing approvingly in +the direction of the Irish youth. “A good ally, i’faith.”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_224'></a>224</span>Nell, indeed, +was using all her arts of fascination to ingratiate herself with the Duchess, +and making progress, too.</p> + +<p>“Your eyes are glorious, fair hostess,” she said, in her most +gallant love-tones, “did I not see my rival in them.”</p> + +<p>She could not, however, look at Portsmouth for laughter, as she thought: +“I believe lying goes with the breeches; I never was so proficient +before.”</p> + +<p>The compliment aroused the King’s sluggish nature.</p> + +<p>“I can endure no more, gallants,” cried he, with some pretence of +anger, rising abruptly, followed, of course, in each move and grimace by his +courtier-apes, in their desire to please. “Are we to be out-done in our +own realm by this usurper with a brogue? Ha! The fiddlers! Madame, I claim the +honour of this fair hand for the dance.”</p> + +<p>At the sound of the music, he had stepped gallantly forward, taking the +hostess’s hand.</p> + +<p>“My thanks, gallant masker,” replied the Duchess, pretending not +to know <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_225'></a>225</span> him for +flattery’s sake, “but I am–”</p> + +<p>To her surprise, she had no opportunity to complete the sentence.</p> + +<p>“Engaged! Engaged!” interposed Nell, coming unceremoniously +between them, with swaggering assumption and an eye-shot at the King through the +portal of her mask. “Forsooth, some other time, strange sir.”</p> + +<p>The hostess stood horrified.</p> + +<p>“Pardon, Sir Masker,” she hastened to explain; “but the +dance was pledged–”</p> + +<p>“No apologies, Duchess,” replied the King, as he turned away, +carelessly, with the reflection: “All’s one to me at this +assemblage.”</p> + +<p>He crossed the room, turning an instant to look, with a humorous, quizzical +glance, at Portsmouth. Nell mistook the glance for a jealous one and, perking up +quickly, caught the royal eye with a challenging eye, tapping her sword-hilt +meaningly. Had the masks been off, the situation would have differed. As it was, +the King smiled indifferently. The episode did not affect him further than to +touch his sense <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_226'></a>226</span> of +humour. Nell turned triumphantly to her partner.</p> + +<p>“Odsbud,” she exclaimed, with a delicious, youthful swagger, +“we may have to measure swords in your behalf, dear hostess. I trow the +fellow loves you.”</p> + +<p>“Have a care,” whispered the Duchess, nervously. “It is the +King.”</p> + +<p>“What care I for a king?” saucily replied Nell, with a +finger-snap. She had taken good care, however, to speak very low. “My arm, +my arm, Duchess!” she continued, with a gallant step. “Places, +places; or the music will outstrip us.”</p> + +<p>“Strut on, my pretty bantam,” thought Buckingham, whose eyes lost +little that might be turned to his own advantage; “I like you +well.”</p> + +<p>There was no mending things at this stage by an apology. The Duchess, +therefore, tactfully turned the affair into one of mirth, in which she was +quickly joined by her guests. With a merry laugh, she took the Irish +gallant’s proffered arm, and together they led the dance. The <span +class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_227'></a>227</span> King picked a lady +indifferently from among the maskers.</p> + +<p>It was a graceful old English measure. Nell’s roguish wits, as well as +her feet, kept pace with the music. She assured her partner that she had never +loved a woman in all her life before and followed this with a hundred merry +jests and sallies, keyed to the merry fiddles, so full of blarney that all were +set a-laughing. Anon, the gallants drew their swords and crossed them in the +air, while the ladies tiptoed in and out. Nell’s blade touched the +King’s blade. When all was ended the swords saluted with a knightly +flourish, then tapped the floor.</p> + +<p>There was an exultant laugh from one and all, and the dance was done.</p> + +<p>Nell hastened to her partner’s side. She caught the Duchess’s +hand and kissed it.</p> + +<p>“You dance divinely, your grace,” she said. “A goddess on +tiptoe.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, Beau Adair!” replied the Duchess, courtseying low; and her +eyes showed that she was not wholly displeased at the warmth of his youthful +adoration.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_228'></a>228</span>“Oh, +Duchess!” said Nell, fondly, acknowledging the salute.</p> + +<p>The Duchess hastened to join his Majesty and together they threaded their way +through many groups.</p> + +<p>Nell tossed her head.</p> + +<p>“How I love her!” she muttered, veiling the sarcasm under her +breath.</p> + +<p>She crossed the great room, her head erect. Her confidence was quite +restored. This had been the most difficult bit of acting she had ever done; and +how well it had been done!</p> + +<p>The other dancers in twos and threes passed from the room in search of quiet +corners, in which to whisper nothings.</p> + +<p>Nell’s eyes fell upon Strings, who had had a slight turn for the better +in the world and who now, in a dress of somewhat substantial green, was one of +the fiddlers at the Duchess’s ball.</p> + +<p>“How now, sirrah!” she said, sharply, as she planted herself +firmly before him to his complete surprise. “I knew you were +here.”</p> + +<p>She placed one of her feet in a devil-may-care <span class='pagenum +pncolor'><a id='page_229'></a>229</span> fashion upon a convenient chair in +manly contempt of its upholstery and peeped amusedly through her mask at her old +friend. He looked at her in blank amazement.</p> + +<p>“Gads-bobbs,” he exclaimed, in confusion, “the Irish +gentleman knows me!”</p> + +<p>“There’s nothing like your old fiddle, Strings,” continued +Nell, still playing with delight upon his consternation. “It fills me with +forty dancing devils. If you were to play at my wake, I would pick up my shroud, +and dance my way into Paradise.”</p> + +<p>“Your lordship has danced to my fiddling before?” he gasped, in +utter amazement.</p> + +<p>“Danced!” gleefully cried Nell. “I have followed your bow +through a thousand jigs. To the devil with these court-steps. I’m for a +jig, jig, jig, jig, jig! Oh, I’m for a jig! Tune up, tune up, comrade; and +we’ll have a touch of the old days at the King’s House.”</p> + +<p>“The King’s House! Jigs!” exclaimed the fiddler, now beside +himself.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a +id='page_230'></a>230</span>“Jigs!” chuckled Nell. “Jigs are +my line of business.”</p> + +<div class='poetry'> +<p><i>Oranges, will you have my oranges?<br />  <br /> Sweet as +love-lips, dearest mine,<br /> Picked by Spanish maids divine,–</i></p> +</div><!-- poetry --> + +<p>The room had now quite cleared; and, protected by a friendly alcove, Nell +punctuated the old song with a few happily turned jig-steps. Strings looked at +her a moment in bewilderment: then his face grew warm with smiles; the mystery +was explained.</p> + +<p>“Mistress Nell, as I live,” he cried, joyously, “turned +boy!”</p> + +<p>“The devil fly away with you, you old idiot! Boy, indeed!” +replied Nell, indignantly. “I’m a full-grown widower!”</p> + +<p>She had removed her mask and was dancing about Strings gleefully.</p> + +<p>There was the sound of returning voices.</p> + +<p>“Oons, you will be discovered,” exclaimed Strings, +cautiously.</p> + +<p>“Marry, I forgot,” whispered Nell, glancing over her shoulder. +“You may <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_231'></a>231</span> +have to help me out o’ this scrape, Strings, before the night is +done.”</p> + +<p>“You can count on me, Mistress Nell, with life,” he replied, +earnestly.</p> + +<p>“I believe you!” said Nell, in her sympathetic, hearty way. Her +mind reverted to the old days when Strings and she were at the King’s. +“Oh, for just one jig with no petticoats to hinder.”</p> + +<p>Nell, despite herself, had fallen into an old-time jig, with much gusto, for +her heart was for a frolic always, when Strings, seized her arm in +consternation, pointing through the archway.</p> + +<p>“The King!” she exclaimed.</p> + +<p>She clapped her mask to her eyes and near tumbled through the nearest arras +out of the room in her eagerness to escape, dragging her ever-faithful comrade +with her.</p> + +<div class='figcenter'> +<img alt='' src='images/nell-231.jpg' /> +</div> + +<hr class='pb' /> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_232'></a>232</span><a id='link_13'></a>CHAPTER XIII</h2> + +<div class='center'> +<p class='center'><i>For the glory of England?</i></p> +</div><!-- centered --> + +<p>The King entered the room with his historic stride. His brow was clouded; but +it was all humorous pretence, for trifles were not wont to weigh heavily upon +his Majesty. With him came Portsmouth.</p> + +<p>“Can you forgive me, Sire?” she asked. “I had promised the +dance to Beau Adair. I did not know you, Sire; you masked so +cleverly.”</p> + +<p>“’Sdeath, fair flatterer!” replied the King. “I have lived +too long to worry o’er the freaks of women.”</p> + +<p>“The youth knew not to whom he spoke,” still pleaded Portsmouth. +“His introduction here bespeaks his pardon, Sire.”</p> + +<p>The King looked sardonic, but his laugh had a human ring.</p> + +<p>“He is too pretty to kill,” he declared, dramatically. +“We’ll forgive him <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a +id='page_233'></a>233</span> for your sake. And now good night.”</p> + +<p>“So soon?” asked Portsmouth, anxiously.</p> + +<p>“It is late,” he replied.</p> + +<p>“Not while the King is here,” she sighed. “Night comes only +when he departs.”</p> + +<p>“Your words are sweet,” said Charles, thoughtfully observing +her.</p> + +<p>She sighed again.</p> + +<p>“My thoughts stumble in your speech,” she said. “I regret I +have not English blood within my veins.”</p> + +<p>“And why?”</p> + +<p>“The King would trust and love me then. He does not now. I am French +and powerless to do him good.”</p> + +<p>There was a touch of honest sadness in her speech which awakened the +King’s sympathy.</p> + +<p>“Nay,” he said hastily, to comfort her; “’tis thy +fancy. Thy entertainment hath made me grateful–to Louis and +Louise.”</p> + +<p>“Think not of Louis and Louise,” she said, sadly and +reproachfully, “but of thy dear self and England’s glory. For shame! +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_234'></a>234</span> Ah, Sire, my +childhood-dreams were of sunny France, where I was born; at Versailles–at +Fontainebleau among the monarch trees–my early womanhood sighed for love. +France gave me all but that. It came not till I saw the English King!”</p> + +<p>The siren of the Nile never looked more bewitchingly beautiful than this +siren of France as she half reclined upon the couch, playing upon the +King’s heart with a bit of memory. His great nature realized her sorrow +and encompassed it.</p> + +<p>“And am I not good to thee, child?” he asked. He took her hand +and responded to her eyes, though not with the tenderness of love–the +tenderness for which she sought.</p> + +<p>“You are good to none,” she replied, bitterly; “for you are +not good to Charles.”</p> + +<p>“You speak enigmas,” he said, curious.</p> + +<p>“Have you forgotten your promise?” she asked, naïvely.</p> + +<p>“Nay; the passport, pretty one?” he answered, amused at the +woman’s wiles. “All this subterfuge of words for that! <span +class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_235'></a>235</span> There; rest in peace. +Thy friend hath a path to France at will.”</p> + +<p>He smiled kindly as he took the passport from his girdle, handed it to her +and turned to take his leave.</p> + +<p>“My thanks are yours. Stay, Sire,” she said, hastily; for her +mission was not yet complete and the night was now well gone. “Passports +are trifles. Will you not leave the Dutch to Louis and his army? +Think!”</p> + +<p>She placed her arms about his neck and looked enticingly into his eyes.</p> + +<p>“But,” he replied, kindly, “my people demand that I +intervene and stay my brother Louis’s aggressive hand.”</p> + +<p>“Are the people king?” she asked, with coy insinuation. “Do +they know best for England’s good? Nay, Sire, for your good and theirs, I +beseech, no more royal sympathy for Holland. I speak to avoid entanglements for +King Charles and to make his reign the greater. I love you, Sire.” She +fell upon her knee. “I speak for the glory of England.”</p> + +<p>His Majesty was influenced by her <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a +id='page_236'></a>236</span> beauty and her arts,–what man would not +be?–but more by the sense of what she said.</p> + +<p>“For the glory of England?” he asked himself. “True, my +people are wrong. ’Tis better we remain aloof. No wars!”</p> + +<p>He took the seat by the table, which the Duchess offered him, and scanned +casually the parchment which she handed to him.</p> + +<p>Nell peered between the curtains. Strings was close behind her.</p> + +<p>“Bouillon’s signature for France,” mused the King. +“’Tis well! No more sympathy for the Dutch, Louise, until Holland sends a +beauty to our court to outshine France’s ambassador.”</p> + +<p>He looked at Portsmouth, smiled and signed the instrument, which had been +prepared, as he thought, in accordance with his wishes and directions. He then +carelessly tossed the sand over the signature to blot it.</p> + +<p>The fair Duchess’s eyes revealed all the things which all the +adjectives of all the lands ever meant.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_237'></a>237</span>“Holland +may outshine in beauty, Sire,” she said, kneeling by the King’s +side, “but not in sacrifice and love.” She kissed his hand +fervently.</p> + +<p>He sat complacently looking into her eyes, scarce mindful of her insinuating +arts of love. He was fascinated with her, it is true; but it was with her +beauty, flattery and sophistry, not her heart.</p> + +<p>“I believe thou dost love England and her people’s good,” +he said, finally. “Thy words art wise.”</p> + +<p>Portsmouth leaned fondly over his shoulder.</p> + +<p>“One more request,” she said, with modest mien, “a very +little one, Sire.”</p> + +<p>The King laughed buoyantly.</p> + +<p>“Nay, an I stay here,” he said, “thy beauty will win my +kingdom! What is thy little wish, sweet sovereign?”</p> + +<p>“No more Parliaments in England, Sire,” she said, softly.</p> + +<p>“What, woman!” he exclaimed, rising, half-aghast, half-humorous, +at the suggestion; for he too had an opinion of Parliament.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_238'></a>238</span>“To cross +the sway of thy great royal state-craft,” she continued, quickly following +up the advantage which her woman’s wit taught her she had gained. +“The people’s sufferings from taxation spring from Parliament only, +Sire.”</p> + +<p>“’Tis true,” agreed Charles, decisively.</p> + +<p>Portsmouth half embraced him.</p> + +<p>“For the people’s good, Sire,” she urged, “for my +sweetest kiss.”</p> + +<p>“You are mad,” said Charles, yet three-fourths convinced; +“my people–”</p> + +<p>“Will be richer for my kiss,” the Duchess interrupted, wooingly, +“and their King, by divine right and heritage, will rule untrammelled by +country clowns, court knaves and foolish lords, who now make up a silly +Parliament. With such a King, England will be better with no Parliament to +hinder. Think, Sire, think!”</p> + +<p>“I have thought of this before,” said Charles, who had often +found Parliament troublesome and, therefore, useless. “The taxes will be +less and contention saved.”</p> + +<p>“Why hesitate then?” she asked. “This hour’s as good +for a good deed as any.”</p> + +<div class='figcenter'> +<a id='link_i10'></a><img src='images/nell-238.jpg' alt='' /> +<p class='center caption'> +BETWEEN TWO FIRES +</p> +</div> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_239'></a>239</span>“For +England’s sake?” reflected Charles, inquiringly, as he took the +second parchment from her hands. “Heaven direct my judgment for my +people’s good. I sign.”</p> + +<p>The treaties which Louis XIV. of France had sent the artful beauty to procure +lay signed upon her desk.</p> + +<p>Nell almost pulled the portières from their hangings in her excitement.</p> + +<p>“I must see those papers,” she thought. “There’s no +good brewing.”</p> + +<p>Portsmouth threw her arms about the King and kissed him passionately.</p> + +<p>“Now, indeed, has England a great King,” she said, adding to +herself: “And that King Louis’s slave!”</p> + +<p>Charles smiled and took his leave. As he passed through the portal, he wiped +his lips, good-humouredly muttering: “Portsmouth’s kisses and +Nell’s do not mix well.”</p> + +<p>Portsmouth listened for a moment to his departing footsteps, then dropped +into the chair by the table and hastily folded and addressed the papers.</p> + +<p>Her mission was ended!</p> + +<hr class='pb' /> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_240'></a>240</span><a id='link_14'></a>CHAPTER XIV</h2> + +<div class='center'> +<p class='center'><i>He loves me! He loves me!</i></p> +</div><!-- centered --> + +<p>Nell, half draped in the arras, had seen the kiss in reality bestowed by +Portsmouth but as she thought bestowed by the King. As his Majesty departed +through the door at the opposite end of the room, the colour came and went in +her cheeks. She could scarce breathe.</p> + +<p>Portsmouth sat unconscious of all but her own grand achievement. She had +accomplished what shrewd statesmen had failed to bring about; and this would be +appreciated, she well knew, by Louis.</p> + +<p>“’Sdeath!” muttered Nell to herself, hotly, as, with quite a +knightly bearing, she approached the Duchess. “He kisses her before my +very eyes! He kisses her! I’ll kill the minx!” She half unsheathed +her blade. “Pshaw! No! No! I am too gallant to kill the sex. I’ll do +the very manly act and simply break her heart. <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a +id='page_241'></a>241</span> Aye, that is true bravery in breeches.”</p> + +<p>Her manner changed.</p> + +<p>“Your grace!” she said suavely.</p> + +<p>“Yes,” answered Portsmouth, her eyes still gleaming +triumphantly.</p> + +<p>“It seems you are partial of your favours?”</p> + +<p>“Yes.”</p> + +<p>“Such a gift from lips less fair,” continued Nell, all in wooing +vein, “would make a beggar royal.”</p> + +<p>The hostess was touched with the phrasing of the compliment. She smiled.</p> + +<p>“You would be pleased to think me fair?” she coyly asked, with +the air of one convinced that it could not well be otherwise.</p> + +<p>“Fairer than yon false gallant thinks you,” cried Nell, with an +angry toss of the head in the direction of the departed King. +“Charles’s kiss upon her lips?” she thought. “’Tis mine, +and I will have it.”</p> + +<p>In the twinkling of an eye, she threw both arms wildly about the neck of the +astonished hostess and kissed her forcefully upon the lips. Then, with a ringing +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_242'></a>242</span> laugh, tinged with +triumph, she stepped back, assuming a defiant air.</p> + +<p>The Duchess paled with anger. She rose quickly and, turning on the pretty +youth, exclaimed: “Sir, what do you mean?”</p> + +<p>“Tilly-vally!” replied the naughty Nell, in her most winning way. +“A frown upon that alabaster brow, a pout upon those rosy lips; and all +for nothing!”</p> + +<p>“<i>Parbleu!</i>” exclaimed the indignant Duchess. “Your +impudence is outrageous, sir! We will dispense with your company. Good +night!”</p> + +<p>“Ods-pitikins!” swaggered Nell, feigning umbrage. “Angry +because I kissed you! You have no right, madame, to be angry.”</p> + +<p>“No right?” asked Portsmouth, her feelings tempered by +surprise.</p> + +<p>“No right,” repeated Nell, firmly. “It is I who should be +outraged at your anger.”</p> + +<p>“Explain, sir,” said the Duchess, haughtily.</p> + +<p>Nell stepped toward the lady, and, assuming her most tender tone, with +wistful, loving eyes, declared:</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_243'></a>243</span>“Because +your grace can have no appreciation of what my temptation was to kiss +you.”</p> + +<p>The Duchess’s countenance glowed with delight, despite herself.</p> + +<p>“I’faith, was there a temptation?” she asked, quite +mollified.</p> + +<p>“An overwhelming passion,” cried Nell, following up her +advantage.</p> + +<p>“And you were disappointed, sir?” asked Portsmouth suggestively, +her vanity falling captive to the sweet cajolery.</p> + +<p>“I only got yon courtier’s kiss,” saucily pouted Nell, +“so lately bestowed on you.”</p> + +<p>“Do you know whose kiss that was?” inquired the Duchess.</p> + +<p>“It seemed familiar,” answered Nell, dryly.</p> + +<p>“The King’s,” said Portsmouth, proudly.</p> + +<p>“The King’s!” cried Nell, opening wide her eyes. +“Take back your kiss. I would not have it.”</p> + +<p>“Indeed!” said Portsmouth, smiling.</p> + +<p>“’Tis too volatile,” charged Nell, decisively. <span +class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_244'></a>244</span> “’Tis here, +’tis there, ’tis everywhere bestowed. Each rosy tavern-wench with a +pretty ankle commands it halt. A kiss is the gift of God, the emblem of true +love. Take back the King’s kiss; I do not wish it.”</p> + +<p>“He does not love the King,” thought Portsmouth, ever on the +lookout for advantage. “A possible ally!”</p> + +<p>She turned upon the youth, with humorous, mocking lip, and said reprovingly: +“A kiss is a kiss the world over, fair sir; and the King’s kisses +are sacred to Portsmouth’s lips.”</p> + +<p>“Zounds,” replied Nell, with a wicked wink, “not two hours +since, he bestowed a kiss on Eleanor Gwyn–”</p> + +<p>“Nell Gwyn!” cried the Duchess, interrupting; and she started +violently.</p> + +<p>“With oaths, mountains high,” continued Nell, with pleasurable +harshness, “that his lips were only for her.”</p> + +<p>The Duchess stood speechless, quivering from top to toe.</p> + +<p>Nell herself swaggered carelessly across the room, muttering mischievously, +as <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_245'></a>245</span> she watched the +Duchess from the corner of her eye: “Methinks that speech went +home.”</p> + +<p>“He kissed her in your presence?” gasped Portsmouth, anxiously +following her.</p> + +<p>“I was not far off, dear Duchess,” was the quizzical reply.</p> + +<p>“You saw the kiss?”</p> + +<p>“No,” answered Nell, dryly, and she could scarce contain her +merriment. “I–I–felt the shock.”</p> + +<p>Before she had finished the sentence, the King appeared in the doorway. His +troubled spirit had led him to return, to speak further with the Duchess +regarding the purport of the treaties. He had the good of his people at heart, +and he was not a little anxious in mind lest he had been over-hasty in signing +such weighty articles without a more careful reading. He stopped short as he +beheld, to his surprise, the Irish spark Adair in earnest converse with his +hostess.</p> + +<p>“I hate Nell Gwyn,” he overheard the Duchess say.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a +id='page_246'></a>246</span>“Is’t possible?” interrogated +Nell, with wondering eyes.</p> + +<p>The King caught this utterance as well.</p> + +<p>“In a passion over Nelly?” reflected he. “I’d sooner +face Cromwell’s soldiers at Boscobel! All hail the oak!”</p> + +<p>His Majesty’s eye saw with a welcome the spreading branches of the +monarch of the forest, outlined on the tapestry; and, with a sigh of relief, he +glided quickly behind it and, joining a group of maskers, passed into an +anteroom, quite out of ear-shot.</p> + +<p>“Most strange!” continued Nell, wonderingly. “Nell told me +but yesterday that Portsmouth was charming company–but a small +eater.”</p> + +<p>“’Tis false,” cried the Duchess, and her brow clouded at the +unpleasant memory of the meeting at Ye Blue Boar. “I never met the +swearing orange-wench.”</p> + +<p>“Ods-pitikins!” acquiesced Nell, woefully. “Nell’s +oaths are bad enough for men.”</p> + +<p>“Masculine creature!” spitefully ejaculated the Duchess.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_247'></a>247</span>“Verily, +quite masculine–of late,” said Nell, demurely, giving a significant +tug at her boot-top.</p> + +<p>“A vulgar player,” continued the indignant Duchess, “loves +every lover who wears gold lace and tosses coins.”</p> + +<p>“Nay; ’tis false!” denied Nell, sharply.</p> + +<p>The Duchess looked up, surprised.</p> + +<p>Nell was all obeisance in an instant.</p> + +<p>“Pardon, dear hostess, a thousand pardons,” she prayed; +“but I have some reason to know you misjudge Mistress Nell. With all her +myriad faults, she never loved but one.”</p> + +<p>“You seem solicitous for her good name, dear Beau?” suggested +Portsmouth, suspiciously.</p> + +<p>“I am solicitous for the name of all good women,” promptly +explained Nell, who was rarely caught a-napping, “or I would be unworthy +of their sex–I mean their friendship.”</p> + +<p>The Duchess seemed satisfied with the explanation.</p> + +<p>“Dear Beau, what do the cavaliers see in that horrid creature?” +archly asked the <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_248'></a>248</span> +Duchess, contemptuous of this liking of the stronger sex.</p> + +<p>“Alack-a-day, we men, you know,” replied Nell, boastfully, +“well–the best of us make mistakes in women.”</p> + +<p>“Are you mistaken?” questioned Portsmouth, coyly.</p> + +<p>“What?” laughed Nell, in high amusement. “I love Nelly? +Nay, Duchess,” and her voice grew tender, “I adore but +one!”</p> + +<p>“And she?” asked the hostess, encouraging the youth’s +apparently awakening passion.</p> + +<p>“How can you ask?” said Nell, with a deep sigh, looking adoringly +into Portsmouth’s eyes and almost embracing her.</p> + +<p>“Do you not fear?” inquired Portsmouth, well pleased.</p> + +<p>“Fear what?” questioned Nell.</p> + +<p>“My wrath,” said Portsmouth.</p> + +<p>“Nay, more, thy love!” sighed Nell, meaningly, assuming a true +lover’s dejected visage.</p> + +<p>“My love!” cried Portsmouth, curiously.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a +id='page_249'></a>249</span>“Aye,” again sighed Nell, more deeply +still; “for it is hopeless.”</p> + +<p>“Try,” said the Duchess, almost resting her head upon +Nell’s shoulder.</p> + +<p>“I am doing my best,” said Nell, her eyes dancing through wistful +lashes, as she embraced in earnest the Duchess’s graceful figure and held +it close.</p> + +<p>“Do you find it hopeless?” asked Portsmouth, returning the +embrace.</p> + +<p>“Until you trust me,” replied Nell, sadly. She shook her curls, +then fondly pleaded: “Give me the secrets of your brain and heart, and +then I’ll know you love me.”</p> + +<p>The hostess smiled and withdrew from the embrace. Nell stood the picture of +forlorn and hopeless love.</p> + +<p>“Nay,” laughed Portsmouth, consolingly, “they would sink a +ship.”</p> + +<p>“One would not,” still pleaded Nell, determined at all odds to +have the packet.</p> + +<p>“One!” The Duchess’s eyes fell unconsciously upon the +papers which she had bewitched from the King and which lay so near her heart. +She started first with <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a +id='page_250'></a>250</span> fear; and then her countenance assumed a thoughtful +cast.</p> + +<p>There was no time now for delay. The papers must be sent immediately. The +King might return and retract. Many a battle, she knew, had been lost after it +had been won.</p> + +<p>That night, at the Rainbow Tavern, well out of reach of the town, of court +spies and gossips, Louis would have a trusted one in waiting. His commission was +to receive news from various points and transmit it secretly to France. It was a +ride of but a few hours to him.</p> + +<p>She had purposed to send the packet by her messenger in waiting; but he had +rendered her suspicious by his speech and action in the late afternoon, and she +questioned whether she would be wise in trusting him. Nor was she willing to +risk her triumph in the hands of Buckingham’s courier. It was too dear to +her.</p> + +<p>Indeed, she was clever enough to know that state-secrets are often safer in +the custody of a disinterested stranger than in the hands of a friend, +especially if the stranger <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a +id='page_251'></a>251</span> be truly a stranger to the court.</p> + +<p>She glanced quickly in the direction of Nell, who looked the ideal of daring +youth, innocent, honest and true to the death.</p> + +<p>“Why not?” she thought quickly, as she reflected again upon +Rochet’s words, “to be trusted.” “Of Irish descent, no +love for the King, young, brave, no court ties; none will suspect or stay +him.”</p> + +<p>Her woman’s intuition said “yes.” She turned upon Nell and +asked, not without agitation in her voice:</p> + +<p>“Can I trust you?”</p> + +<p>Nell’s sword was out in an instant, glistening in the light, and so +promptly that the Duchess started. Nell saluted, fell upon one knee and said, +with all the exuberance of audacious, loving youth:</p> + +<p>“My sword and life are yours.”</p> + +<p>Portsmouth looked deeply into Nell’s honest eyes. She was +convinced.</p> + +<p>“This little packet,” said she, in subdued tones, summoning Nell +to her side, “a family matter merely, must reach the Rainbow Tavern, on +the Canterbury <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_252'></a>252</span> +Road, by sunrise, where one is waiting. You’ll find his description on the +packet.”</p> + +<p>Nell sheathed her sword.</p> + +<p>“I know the place and road,” she said, earnestly, as she took the +papers from the Duchess’s hand and placed them carefully in her +doublet.</p> + +<p>A rustle of the curtains indicated that some one had returned and was +listening by the arras.</p> + +<p>“Hush!” cautioned Portsmouth. “Be true, and you will win my +love.”</p> + +<p>Nell did not reply, save to the glance that accompanied the words. Snatching +her hat from a chair on which she had tossed it, she started eagerly in the +direction of the great stairs that led to the hallway below, where, an hour +since, she had been at first refused admission to the palace. Could she but pass +again the guards, all would be well; and surely there was now no cause for her +detention. Yet her heart beat tumultuously–faster even than when she +presented herself with Rochet’s letter written by herself.</p> + +<p>As she was hastening by the arras, <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a +id='page_253'></a>253</span> her quick eye, however, recognized the King’s +long plume behind it; and she halted in her course. She was alert with a +thousand maddening thoughts crowding her brain, all in an instant.</p> + +<p>“The King returned–an eavesdropper!” she reflected. +“Jealous of Portsmouth; his eyes follow her. Where are his vows to Nell? +I’ll defame Nell’s name, drag her fair honour in the mire; so, +Charles, we’ll test your manliness and love.”</p> + +<p>She recrossed the room quickly to Portsmouth.</p> + +<p>“Madame,” she exclaimed, in crisp, nervous tones, loud enough for +the King’s ear, “I have been deceiving, lying to you. I stood here, +praising, honouring Eleanor Gwyn–an apple rotten to the core!”</p> + +<p>“How now?” ejaculated Charles, in an undertone.</p> + +<p>His carelessness vanished upon the instant. Where he had waited for the +single ear of Portsmouth, he became at once an earnest listener.</p> + +<p>Nell paused not.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_254'></a>254</span>“I had a +friend who told me he loved Nell. I loved that friend. God knows I loved +him.”</p> + +<p>“Yes, yes!” urged Portsmouth, with eagerness.</p> + +<p>“A man of noble name and princely mien,” continued Nell, so +standing that the words went, like arrows, straight to the King’s ear and +heart, “a man of honour, who would have died fighting for Nell’s +honour–”</p> + +<p>“Misled youth,” muttered Portsmouth.</p> + +<p>Nell seemed not to hear the words.</p> + +<p>“Who, had he heard a murmur of disapproval, a shadow cast upon her +name, would have sealed in death the presumptuous lips which uttered +it.”</p> + +<p>“She betrayed his confidence?” asked Portsmouth, +breathlessly.</p> + +<p>“Betrayed–and worse!” gesticulated Nell, with the visage of +a madman. “A woman base, without a spark of kindliness–an +adventuress! This is the picture of that Eleanor Gwyn! Where is a champion to +take up the gauntlet for such a Nell?”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_255'></a>255</span>As quick as +light, the King threw back the arras and came between them. The Duchess saw him +and cried out in surprise. Nell did not turn–only caught a chair-top to +save herself from falling.</p> + +<p>“Here, thou defamer!” he called, his voice husky with passion. +“Thou base purveyor of lies, answer me–me, for those words! I am +Nell’s champion! I’ll force you to own your slander a +lie.”</p> + +<p>The King was terribly in earnest.</p> + +<p>“The guard! The guard!” called Portsmouth, faintly, almost +overcome by the scene. In her passion that the King so revealed his love for +Nell, she quite forgot that Adair was the bearer of her packet.</p> + +<p>“I want no guard,” commanded the King. “An insult to Nell +Gwyn is my cause alone.”</p> + +<p>Nell was in an elysium of ecstasy. She realized nothing, saw nothing.</p> + +<p>“He loves me! He loves me!” her trembling lips breathed only. +“He’ll fight for Nell.”</p> + +<p>“Come; draw and defend yourself,” angrily cried the King.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_256'></a>256</span>Portsmouth +screamed and fell upon his arm.</p> + +<p>It is doubtful what the result would otherwise have been. True, Nell ofttimes +had fenced with the King and knew his wrist, but she was no swordswoman now. +Though she took up in her delirium the King’s challenge with a wild cry, +“Aye, draw and defend yourself!” she realized nothing but his +confession of love for Nell.</p> + +<p>The scene was like a great blur before her eyes.</p> + +<p>She rushed upon the King and by him, she scarce knew how. Their swords +harmlessly clashed; that was all.</p> + +<p>The cries had been taken up without.</p> + +<p>“The guard! The guard!” “Treason!” +“Treason!”</p> + +<p>The air was alive with voices.</p> + +<p>Nell ran up the steps leading to a French window, which opened upon a tiny +railed balcony. Below, one story only, lay a soft carpet of greensward, +shimmering in the moonlight. With her sword, she struck the frail sash, which +instantly yielded.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_257'></a>257</span>Meantime, the +room had filled with courtiers, guards and gallants, who had rushed in, sword +and spear in hand, to guard the King.</p> + +<p>As the glass shivered and flew wide, under the point of Nell’s blade, +all eyes turned toward her and all blades quivered threateningly in the air.</p> + +<p>Buckingham was first to ascend the steps in pursuit. He was +disarmed–more through the superiority of Nell’s position than +through the dexterity of her wrist.</p> + +<p>Then for the first time, she realized her danger. Her eyes staring from their +sockets, she drew back from her murderous pursuers, and, in startled accents, +she knew not why, screamed in supplication, with hands uplifted:</p> + +<p>“Gentlemen! Gentlemen!”</p> + +<p>The storm was stayed. All paused to hear what the stranger-youth would say. +Would he apologize or would he surrender?</p> + +<p>The suspense was for but a second, though it seemed an eternity to Nell.</p> + +<p>The open window was behind.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_258'></a>258</span>With a parting +glance at the trembling blades, she turned quickly and with reckless daring +leaped the balcony.</p> + +<p>“T’ hell with ye!” was wafted back in a rich brogue +defiantly by the night.</p> + +<p>Astonishment and consternation filled the room; but the bird had flown. Some +said that the wicked farewell-speech had been Adair’s, and some said +not.</p> + +<p>How it all happened, no one could tell, unless it was a miracle.</p> + +<hr class='pb' /> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_259'></a>259</span><a id='link_15'></a>CHAPTER XV</h2> + +<div class='center'> +<p class='center'><i>I come, my love; I come.</i></p> +</div><!-- centered --> + +<p>One lonely candle, or to speak more strictly a bit of one, sputtered in its +silver socket in the cosy drawing-room; and a single moonbeam found its way in +through the draperies of the window leading to the terrace and to St. +James’s Park.</p> + +<p>Moll lay upon a couch asleep; but it was a restless sleep.</p> + +<p>The voice of a town-crier resounded faintly across the park: “Midnight; +and all is well.”</p> + +<p>She started up and rubbed her eyes in a bewildered way.</p> + +<p>“The midnight crier!” she thought; and there was a troubled +expression in her face. “I have been asleep and the candle’s nearly +out.”</p> + +<p>She jumped to her feet and hastily lighted two or three of its more +substantial mates, of which there was an abundance <span class='pagenum +pncolor'><a id='page_260'></a>260</span> in the rich candelabra about the +room.</p> + +<p>A cricket in a crevice startled her. She ran to the window and looked +anxiously out upon the park, then hastened to the door, with equal anxiety, lest +it might be unlocked. Every shadow was to her feverish fancy a spirit of evil or +of death.</p> + +<p>“I wish Nell would come,” she thought. “The ghosts and +skeletons fairly swarm in this old house at midnight; and I am all alone +to-night. It’s different when Nell’s about. The goblins are afraid +of her merry laugh. Boo! I am cold all over. I am afraid to stand still, and I +am afraid to move.”</p> + +<p>She ran again to the window and this time pulled it open. The moonlight +instantly flooded the room, dimming the candles which she had lighted. She saw +her shadow, and started back in horror.</p> + +<p>“Some one glided behind the old oak in the park,” she cried +aloud, for the company of her voice. “Oh, oh! Nell will be murdered! I +begged her not to go to Portsmouth’s ball. She said she just wanted to +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_261'></a>261</span> peep in and pay +her respects to the hostess. Moll! You better pray.”</p> + +<p>She fell upon her knees and reverently lifted her hands and eyes in +prayer.</p> + +<p>Something fell in the room with a heavy thud. She shut her eyes tight and +prayed harder. The object of her fear was a long gray boot, which had been +thrown in at the window and had fallen harmlessly by her side. It was followed +in an instant by its mate, equally harmless yet equally dreadful.</p> + +<p>A jaunty figure, assisted by a friendly shoulder, then bounded over the +balustrade and rested with a sigh of relief just within the window-opening. It +was Nell, returning from the wars; she was pale, almost death-like. The +evening’s excitement, her daring escapade and more especially its exciting +finish had taken hold of her in earnest. Her dainty little self was paying the +penalty. She was all of a tremble.</p> + +<p>“Safe home at last!” she cried wearily. “Heaven reward you, +Strings.”</p> + +<p>From below the terrace, without the <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a +id='page_262'></a>262</span> window, responded the fiddler, in sympathetic, +loving tones: “Good night, Mistress Nell; and good sleep.”</p> + +<p>“Good night, comrade,” answered Nell, as she almost fell into the +room, calling faintly: “Moll! Moll! What are you doing, Moll?”</p> + +<p>Moll closed her eyes tighter and prayed still more fervently.</p> + +<p>“Praying for Nell,” her trembling lips mechanically replied.</p> + +<p>“Humph!” cried Nell, half fainting, throwing herself upon the +couch. “There’s no spirit in this flesh worth praying for. Some +wine, some wine; and the blessing after.”</p> + +<p>The command brought Moll to her senses and she realized that it was really +Nell who had entered thus unceremoniously. She rushed to her for safety, like a +frightened deer to the lake.</p> + +<p>“Nell, dear Nell!” she cried. “You are ill.”</p> + +<p>“Wine, wine, I say,” again fell in peremptory tones from the +half-reclining Nell.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_263'></a>263</span>Moll glanced in +dismay at her bootless mistress: her garments all awry; her sword ill sheathed; +her cloak uncaught from the shoulder and half used, petticoat-like, as a +covering for her trembling-limbs; her hair dishevelled; her cheeks pale; her +wild eyes, excitement-strained, staring from their sockets.</p> + +<p>“You are wounded; you are going to die,” she cried. “Moll +will be all alone in the world again.”</p> + +<p>Her hands shook more than Nell’s as she filled a glass half full of +wine and passed it to her mistress.</p> + +<p>“To the brim, girl, to the brim,” commanded Nell, reviving at the +prospect of the draught. “There!”</p> + +<p>She tossed off the drink in gallant fashion: “I tell you, sweetheart, +we men need lots of stimulating.”</p> + +<p>“You are all of a tremble,” continued Moll.</p> + +<p>“Little wonder!” sighed Nell. “These braveries are a trifle +chilly, sweet mouse. Boo!” She laughed hysterically, while Moll closed the +window. “You see, I <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a +id='page_264'></a>264</span> never was a man before, and I had all that lost +time to make up–acres of oats to scatter in one little night. Open my +throat; I cannot breathe. Take off my sword. The wars are done, I hope.” +She startled Moll, who was encasing her mistress’s pretty feet in a pair +of dainty shoes, with another wild, hilarious laugh. “Moll,” she +continued, “I was the gayest mad-cap there. The sex were wild for me. I +knew their weak points of attack, lass. If I had been seeking a mate, I could +have made my market of them all and started a harem.”</p> + +<p>She seemed to forget all her dangers past in the recollection.</p> + +<p>“Wicked girl,” said Moll, pouting reprovingly.</p> + +<p>“Oh, I am a jolly roisterer, little one,” laughed Nell, in reply, +as with cavalier-strides she crossed the room. She threw herself upon the table +and proceeded to boast of her doings for Moll’s benefit, swinging her feet +meanwhile. “I ran the gamut. I had all the paces of the truest cavalier. I +could tread a measure, swear <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a +id='page_265'></a>265</span> like one from the wars, crook my elbow, lie, +gamble, fight–Fight? Did I say fight?”</p> + +<p>She hid her curly head in her hands and sobbed spasmodically.</p> + +<p>“You have been in danger!” exclaimed Moll, fearfully.</p> + +<p>“Danger!” repeated Nell, breaking out afresh. “I taught the +King a lesson he will dream about, my sweet, though it near cost me my life. He +loves me, d’ye hear; he loves me, pretty one! Dance, Moll, +dance–Dance, I say! I could fly for very joy!”</p> + +<p>With the tears still wet upon her cheeks, she seized Moll by both hands and +whirled the astonished girl wildly about the room, until she herself reeled for +want of breath. Then, catching at a great carved oaken chair, she fell into it +and cried and laughed alternately.</p> + +<p>“Nell, Nell,” gasped Moll, as she too struggled for breath; +“one minute you laugh and then you cry. Have you lost your +wits?”</p> + +<p>“I only know,” exulted Nell, “I made <span class='pagenum +pncolor'><a id='page_266'></a>266</span> him swear his love for Nell to +Portsmouth’s face. I made him draw his sword for Nell.”</p> + +<p>“Great Heavens!” exclaimed Moll, aghast. “You did not draw +yourself? A sword against the King is treason.”</p> + +<p>“Ods-bodikins, I know not!” answered Nell. “I know not what +I did or said. I was mad, mad! All I remember is: there was a big noise–a +million spears and blunderbusses turned upon poor me! Gad! I made a pretty +target, girl.”</p> + +<p>“A million spears and blunderbusses!” echoed Moll, her eyes like +saucers.</p> + +<p>“An army, child, an army!” continued Nell, in half-frantic +accents. “I did not stop to count them. Then, next I knew, I was in my +coach, with dear old Strings beside me. The horses flew. We alighted at the +Chapel, tiptoed about several corners to break the scent; then I took off my +shoes and stole up the back way like a good and faithful husband. Oh, I did the +whole thing in cavalier-style, sweetheart. But, ’twixt us, Moll,” and she +spoke with a mysterious, confidential air,“–I <span class='pagenum +pncolor'><a id='page_267'></a>267</span> wouldn’t have it go further for +worlds–Adair is a coward, a monstrous coward! He ran!”</p> + +<p>As if to prove the truth of her words, at a sudden, sharp, shrill sound from +the direction of the park, the sad remnant of Adair clutched Moll frantically; +and both girls huddled together with startled faces and bated breaths.</p> + +<p>“Hark! What is that?” whispered Nell.</p> + +<p>“The men, perchance, I told you of,” answered Moll; +“they’ve spied about the house for weeks.”</p> + +<p>“Nonsense, you little goose,” remonstrated Nell, though none too +bravely; “some of your ex-lovers nailing their bleeding hearts to the +trees.”</p> + +<p>“No, no; listen!” exclaimed Moll, frantically, as the noise grew +louder. “They’re in the entry.”</p> + +<p>“In the entry!” stammered Nell; and she almost collapsed at the +thought of more adventures. “I wish we were in bed, with our heads under +the sheet.”</p> + +<p>“Here is your sword,” said Moll, as she <span class='pagenum +pncolor'><a id='page_268'></a>268</span> brought Nell the sharp weapon, held +well at arm’s length for fear of it.</p> + +<p>“Oh, yes, my sword!” exclaimed Nell, perking up–for an +instant only. “I never thought of my sword; and this is one of the bravest +swords I ever drew. I am as weak as a woman, Moll.”</p> + +<p>“Take heart,” said Moll, encouraging her from the rear, as Nell +brandished the glittering blade in the direction of the door. “You know +you faced an army to-night.”</p> + +<p>“True,” replied Nell, her courage oozing out at her finger-tips, +“but then I was a man, and had to seem brave, whether I was or no. +Who’s there?” she called faintly. “Who’s there? Support +me, Moll. Beau Adair is on his last legs.”</p> + +<p>Both stood listening intently and trembling from top to toe.</p> + +<p>A score of rich voices, singing harmoniously, broke upon the night.</p> + +<p>The startled expression on Nell’s face changed instantly to one of +fearless, roguish merriment. She was her old self again. She tossed the sword +contemptuously <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_269'></a>269</span> +upon the floor, laughing in derision now at her companion’s fear.</p> + +<p>“A serenade! A serenade!” she cried. “Moll–Why, Moll, +what feared ye, lass? Come!” She ran gaily to the window and peeped out. +“Oh, ho, masqueraders from the moon. Some merry crew, I’ll be bound. +I am generous. I’ll give thee all but one, sweet mouse. The tall knight in +white for me! I know he’s gallant, though his vizor’s down. Marry, +he is their captain, I trow; and none but a captain of men shall be captain of +my little heart.”</p> + +<p>“It is Satan and his imps,” cried Moll, attempting to draw Nell +from the window.</p> + +<p>“Tush, little one,” laughed Nell, reprovingly. “Satan is my +warmest friend. Besides, they cannot cross the moat. The ramparts are ours. The +draw-bridge is up.”</p> + +<p>In a merry mood, she threw a piece of drapery, mantle-like, about +Adair’s shoulders, quite hiding them, and, decapitating a grim old suit of +armour, placed the helmet on her head. Thus garbed, she threw the window quickly +open and stepped <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_270'></a>270</span> +boldly upon the ledge, within full view of the band beneath. As the moonlight +gleamed upon her helmet, one might have fancied her a goodly knight of yore; +and, indeed, she looked quite formidable.</p> + +<p>“Nell, what are you doing?” called Moll, wildly, from a point of +safety. “They can see and shoot you.”</p> + +<p>“Tilly-vally, girl,” replied Nell, undaunted now that she could +see that there was no danger, “we’ll parley with the enemy in true +feudal style. We’ll teach them we have a man about the house. Ho, there, +strangers of the night–breakers of the King’s peace and the slumbers +of the righteous! Brawlers, knaves; would ye raise honest men from their beds at +such an hour? What means this jargon of tipsy voices? What want ye?”</p> + +<p>A chorus of throats without demanded, in muffled accents: +“Drink!” “Drink!” “Sack!” +“Rhenish!”</p> + +<p>“Do ye think this a tavern, knaves?” responded Nell, in a husky, +mannish voice. “Do ye think this a vintner’s? There are no topers +here. Jackanapes, revellers; away with you, or we’ll rouse the citadel and +train the guns.”</p> + +<div class='figcenter'> +<a id='link_i11'></a><img src='images/nell-270.jpg' alt='' /> +<p class='center caption'> +“I WAS THAT BOY!” +</p> +</div> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_271'></a>271</span>Her retort was +met with boisterous laughter and mocking cries of “Down with the +doors!” “Break in the windows!”</p> + +<p>This was a move Nell had not anticipated. She jumped from the ledge, or +rather tumbled into the room, nervously dropping her disguise upon the +floor.</p> + +<p>“Heaven preserve us,” she said to Moll, with quite another +complexion in her tone, “they are coming in! Oh, Moll, Moll, I did not +think they would dare.”</p> + +<p>Moll closed the sashes and bolted them, then hugged Nell close.</p> + +<p>“Ho, there, within!” came, in a guttural voice, now from without +the door.</p> + +<p>“Yes?” Nell tried to say; but the word scarce went beyond her +lips.</p> + +<p>Again in guttural tones came a second summons–“Nell! +Nell!”</p> + +<p>Nell turned to Moll for support and courage, whispering: “Some arrant +knave calls Nell at this hour.” Then, assuming an attitude of bravery, +with fluttering heart, she answered, as best she could, <span class='pagenum +pncolor'><a id='page_272'></a>272</span> in a forced voice: “Nell’s +in bed!”</p> + +<p>“Yes, Nell’s in bed,” echoed the constant Moll. +“Everybody’s in bed. Call to-morrow!”</p> + +<p>“No trifling, wench!” commanded the voice without, angrily. +“Down with the door!”</p> + +<p>“Stand close, Moll,” entreated Nell, as she answered the would-be +intruder with the question:</p> + +<p>“Who are ye? Who are ye?”</p> + +<p>“Old Rowley himself!” replied the guttural voice.</p> + +<p>This was followed by hoarse laughter from many throats.</p> + +<p>“The King–as I thought!” whispered Nell. “Good lack; +what shall I do with Adair? Plague on’t, he’ll be mad if I keep him +waiting, and madder if I let him in. Where are your wits, Moll? Run for my gown; +fly–fly!”</p> + +<p>Moll hastened to do the bidding.</p> + +<p>Nell rushed to the entry-door, in frantic agitation.</p> + +<p>“The bolt sticks, Sire,” she called, pretending to struggle with +the door, hoping <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_273'></a>273</span> +so to stay his Majesty until she should have time to dispose of poor Adair. +“How can I get out of these braveries?” she then asked herself, +tugging awkwardly at one part of the male attire and then at another. “I +don’t know which end of me to begin on first.”</p> + +<p>Moll re-entered the room with a bundle of pink in her arms, which turned out +to be a flowing, silken robe, trimmed with lace.</p> + +<p>“Here is the first I found,” she said breathlessly.</p> + +<p>Nell motioned to her nervously to put it upon the couch.</p> + +<p>“Help me out of this coat,” she pleaded woefully.</p> + +<p>Moll took off the coat and then assisted Nell to circumscribe with the gown, +from heels to head, her stunning figure, neatly encased in Adair’s habit, +which now consisted only of a jaunty shirt of white, gray breeches, shoes and +stockings.</p> + +<p>“Marry, I would I were a fairy with a magic wand; I could befuddle +men’s eyes easier,” Nell lamented.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_274'></a>274</span>The King knocked +again upon the door sharply.</p> + +<p>“Patience, my liege,” entreated Nell, drawing her gown close +about her and muttering with personal satisfaction: “There, there; that +hides a multitude of sins. The girdle, the girdle! Adair will not escape from +this–if we can but keep him quiet; the rogue has a woman’s tongue, +and it will out, I fear.”</p> + +<p>She snatched up a mirror and arranged her hair as best she could in the dim +light, with the cries without resounding in her ears and with Moll dancing +anxiously about her.</p> + +<p>“Down with the door,” threatened the King, impatiently. +“The ram; the battering ram.”</p> + +<p>“I come, my love; I come,” cried Nell, in agitation, fairly +running to the door to open it, but stopping aghast as her eye caught over her +shoulder the sad, telltale condition of the room.</p> + +<p>“’Sdeath,” she called in a stage-whisper to Moll; “under +the couch with Adair’s coat! Patience, Sire,” she besought <span +class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_275'></a>275</span> in turn the King. +“Help me, Moll. How this lock has rusted–in the last few minutes. My +sword!” she continued breathlessly to Moll. “My boots! My hat! My +cloak!”</p> + +<p>Moll, in her efforts to make the room presentable, was rushing hither and +thither, first throwing Adair’s coat beneath the couch as Nell commanded +and firing the other evidences of his guilty presence, one behind one door and +another behind another.</p> + +<p>It was done.</p> + +<p>Nell slipped the bolt and calmly took a stand in the centre of the room, +drawing her flowing gown close about Adair’s person. She was quite +exhausted from the nervous strain, but her actress’s art taught her the +way to hide it. Moll, panting for breath, across the room, feigned composure as +best she could.</p> + +<p>The door opened and in strode the King and his followers.</p> + +<p>“Welcome, royal comrades, welcome all!” said Nell, bowing +graciously to her untimely visitors.</p> + +<hr class='pb' /> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_276'></a>276</span><a id='link_16'></a>CHAPTER XVI</h2> + +<div class='center'> +<p class='center'><i>Ods-pitikins, my own reflection!</i></p> +</div><!-- centered --> + +<p>Upon the fine face of the King, as he entered Nell’s drawing-room, was +an expression of nervous bantering, not wholly unmixed with anxiety.</p> + +<p>The slanderous Adair and his almost miraculous escape had not long weighed +upon his Majesty’s careless nature.</p> + +<p>As he had not met Adair until that night or even heard of him, his heart had +told him that the Irish roisterer could scarcely be a serious obstacle in the +way of Nell’s perfect faith, if, indeed, he had met Nell at all, which he +doubted. His command to the guard to follow and overtake the youth had been more +the command of the ruler than of the man. Despite himself, there had been +something about the dainty peacock he could not help but like; and the bold dash +for the window, the disarming of the purse-proud Buckingham, <span +class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_277'></a>277</span> who for many reasons +displeased him, and the leap to the sward below, with the accompanying farewell, +had especially delighted both his manhood and his sense of humour.</p> + +<p>He had, therefore, dismissed Adair from his mind, except as a possible +subject to banter Nell withal, or as a culprit to punish, if overtaken.</p> + +<p>His restless spirit had chafed under the Duchess’s lavish +entertainment–for the best entertainment is dull to the lover whose +sweetheart is absent–and he had turned instinctively from the ball to +Nell’s terrace, regardless of the hour and scarce noticing his constant +attendants.</p> + +<p>The night was so beautiful that their souls had found vent in song.</p> + +<p>This serenade, however, had brought to Nell’s window a wide-awake +fellow, who had revealed himself in saucy talk; and the delighted cavaliers, in +hope of fun, had charged jeeringly that they had outwitted the guard and had +found Adair.</p> + +<p>It was this that had brought the anxious look to the King’s face; and, +though his <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_278'></a>278</span> better +judgment was still unchanged, the sight of the knave at the window, together +with the suggestions of his merry followers, had cast a shadow of doubt for the +moment upon his soul, and he had reflected that there was much that the Irish +youth had said that could not be reconciled with that better judgment.</p> + +<p>With a careless shrug, he had, therefore, taken up the jest of his lawless +crew, which coincided with his own intended purpose, and had sworn that he would +turn the household out of bed without regard to pretty protests or formality of +warrant. He would raise the question forthwith, in jest and earnest, and worry +Nell about the boaster.</p> + +<p>“Scurvy entertainment,” he began, with frowning brow.</p> + +<p>“Yea, my liege,” explained Nell, winsomely; “you +see–I did not expect the King so late, and so was +unpresentable.”</p> + +<p>“It is the one you do not expect,” replied Charles, dryly, +“who always causes the trouble, Nell.”</p> + +<p>“We were in bed, Sire,” threw in Moll, <span class='pagenum +pncolor'><a id='page_279'></a>279</span> thinking to come to the rescue of her +mistress.</p> + +<p>“Marry, truly,” said Nell, catching at the cue, +“–asleep, Sire, sound asleep; and our prayers said.”</p> + +<p>“Tilly-vally,” exclaimed the King, “we might credit thy +tongue, wench, but for the prayers. No digressions, spider Nell. My sword is in +a fighting mood. ’Sdeath, call forth the knight-errant who holds thy errant +heart secure for one short hour!”</p> + +<p>“The knight of my heart!” cried Nell. “Ah, Sire, you know +his name.”</p> + +<p>She looked at his Majesty with eyes of unfailing love; but the King was true +to his jest.</p> + +<p>“Yea, marry, I do,” laughed Charles, tauntingly, with a wink at +his companions; “a pretty piece of heraldry, a bold escutcheon, a dainty +poniard–pale as a lily, and how he did sigh and drop his lids and smirk +and smirk and dance your latest galliard to surpass De Grammont. Ask brother +James how he did dance.”</p> + +<p>“Nay, Sire,” hastily interceded the <span class='pagenum +pncolor'><a id='page_280'></a>280</span> ever-gallant Rochester, “his +Highness of York has suffered enough.”</p> + +<p>York frowned at the reference; for he had been robbed of his lady at the +dance by Adair. He could not forget that. Heedless of his royalty, bestowed by +man, she, like the others, had followed in the train of the Irish spark, who was +royal only by nature.</p> + +<p>“Hang the coxcomb!” he snarled.</p> + +<p>“’Slife, I will,” replied Charles, slyly, “an you overtake +him, brother.”</p> + +<p>“His back was shapely, Sire,” observed Rochester, with quaint +humour.</p> + +<p>“Yea, and his heels!” cried the King, reflectively. “He had +such dainty heels–Mercury’s wings attached, to waft him on his +way.”</p> + +<p>“This is moonshine madness!” exclaimed Nell, with the blandest of +bland smiles. “There’s none such here. By my troth, I would there +were. Nay, ask Moll.”</p> + +<p>Moll did not wait to be asked.</p> + +<p>“Not one visitor to-night,” she asserted promptly.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a +id='page_281'></a>281</span>“Odso!” cried Charles, in a mocking +tone. “Whence came the Jack at the window–the brave young +challenger–‘Would ye raise honest men from their beds at such an +hour?’”</p> + +<p>A burst of laughter followed the King’s grave imitation of the +window-boaster.</p> + +<p>“Sire!” sighed Rochester, in like spirit. “‘Do you think +this a vintner’s? There are no topers here.’”</p> + +<p>Another burst of merry laughter greeted the speaker, as he punctuated his +words by catching up the wine-cups from the table and clinking them gaily.</p> + +<p>Nell’s face was as solemn as a funeral.</p> + +<p>“To your knees, minx,” commanded James, grimly, “and crave +mercy of your prince.”</p> + +<p>“Faith and troth,” pleaded Nell, seriously, “’t was I +myself with helmet and mantle on. You see, Sire, my menials were guests at +Portsmouth’s ball–to lend respectability.”</p> + +<p>“Saucy wag,” cried the Merry Monarch. “A ball?–A +battle–which would have killed thee straight!”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_282'></a>282</span>“It had +liked to,” reflected Nell, as she tartly replied: “A war of the sex +without me? It was stupid, then. The Duchess missed me, I trow.”</p> + +<p>“Never fear,” answered Charles, with difficulty suppressing his +mirth; “you were bravely championed.”</p> + +<p>“I am sure of that,” said Nell, slyly; “my King was +there.”</p> + +<p>“And a bantam cock,” ejaculated Charles, sarcastically, +“upon whose lips ‘Nell’ hung familiarly.”</p> + +<p>“Some strange gallant,” cried Nell, in ecstasy, “took my +part before them all? Who was he, Sire? Don’t tantalize me so.”</p> + +<p>She smiled, half serious, half humorous, as she pleaded in her charming +way.</p> + +<p>“A chip from the Blarney Stone,” observed the King at length, +ironically, “surnamed Adair!”</p> + +<p>“Adair! Adair!” cried Nell, to the astonishment of all. “We +spent our youth together. I see him in my mind’s eye, Sire, throw down the +gauntlet in Nell’s name and defy the world for her. Fill the <span +class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_283'></a>283</span> cups. We’ll drink +to my new-found hero! Fill! Fill! To Beau Adair, as you love me, gallants! Long +life to Adair!”</p> + +<p>The cups were filled to overflowing and trembled on eager lips in response to +the hostess’s merry toast.</p> + +<p>“Stay!” commanded the King, in peremptory tones. “Not a +drop to a coward!”</p> + +<p>“A coward!” cried Nell, aghast. “Adair a coward? I’ll +never credit it, Sire!”</p> + +<p>She turned away, lest she reveal her merriment, as she bethought her: +“He is trembling in my boots now. I can feel him shake.”</p> + +<p>“Our pledge is Nell, Nell only!” exclaimed the King, his cup high +in air.</p> + +<p>With one accord, the gallants eagerly took up the royal pledge. “Aye, +aye, Nell!” “Nell!” “We’ll drink to +Nell!”</p> + +<p>“You do me honour, royal gentlemen,” bowed Nell, well pleased at +the King’s toast.</p> + +<p>She had scarce touched the cup to her lips, however, with a mental chuckle, +“Poor Adair! Here’s a health to the inner man!” when her eye +fell upon one of <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_284'></a>284</span> +Adair’s gray boots, which Moll had failed to hide, in her excitement, now +revealing itself quite plainly in the light of the many candles. She caught it +adroitly on the tip of her toe and sent it whizzing through the air in the +direction of poor Moll, who, fortunately, caught it in midair and hid it quickly +beneath her apron.</p> + +<p>The King turned at the sound; but Nell’s face was as woefully +unconcerned as a church-warden’s at his hundredth burial.</p> + +<p>The wine added further zest to the merry-making and the desire for sport.</p> + +<p>“Now, fair huswife,” continued Charles, his thoughts reverting to +Adair, “set forth the dish, that we may carve it to our liking. ’Tis a +dainty bit,–lace, velvet and ruffles.”</p> + +<p>“Heyday, Sire,” responded Nell, evasively, “the +larder’s empty.”</p> + +<p>“Devil on’t,” cried Charles, ferociously; “no +mincing, wench. In the confusion of the ball, the bird escaped my guard by +magic. We know whither the flight.”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_285'></a>285</span>The King assumed +a knowing look.</p> + +<p>“Escaped the guard?” gasped Nell, in great surprise. “Alas, +I trow some petticoat has hid him then.”</p> + +<p>“I’ll stake my life upon’t,” observed James, who had +not been heard from in some time but who had been observing the scene with +decorous dignity.</p> + +<p>“Sire, you would not injure Adair,” pleaded Nell, now alert, with +all her arts of fascination. “You are too generous. Blue eyes of heaven, +and such a smile! Did you mark that young Irishman’s smile, +Sire?”</p> + +<p>Her impudence was so bewitching that the King scarce knew whether it were +jest or earnest. He sprang to his feet from the couch, where he had thrown +himself after the toast to Nell, and, with some forcefulness, exclaimed:</p> + +<p>“Odsfish, this to my teeth, rogue! Guard the doors, gallants; +we’d gaze upon this paragon.”</p> + +<p>“And set him pirouetting, Sire,” sardonically suggested +James.</p> + +<p>“Yea, to the tune of these fiddle-sticks,” <span class='pagenum +pncolor'><a id='page_286'></a>286</span> laughed Charles, as he unsheathed his +rapier. “Search from tile to rafter.”</p> + +<p>“Aye, aye,” echoed the omnipresent Rochester, “from cellar +to garret.”</p> + +<p>Before, however, the command could be obeyed, even in resolution, Nell moved +uneasily to a curtain which hung in the corner of the room and placed herself +before it, as if to shield a hidden man.</p> + +<p>“Sire,” she pleaded fearfully, “spare him, Sire; for my +sake, Sire. He is not to blame for loving me. He cannot help it. You know that, +Sire!”</p> + +<p>“Can he really be here?” muttered Charles, with clouding visage. +“Saucy wench! Hey! My blood is charging full-tilt through my veins. +Odsfish, we’ll try his mettle once again.”</p> + +<p>“Prythee, Sire,” begged Nell, “he is too noble and brave +and handsome to die. I love his very image.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, ho!” cried Charles. “A silken blind for the silken +bird! Hey, St. George for merry England! Come forth, thou picture of cowardice, +thou vile slanderer.”</p> + +<p>He grasped Nell by the wrist and fairly <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a +id='page_287'></a>287</span> dragged her across the room. Then, rushing to the +curtain, he seized its silken folds and tore it completely from its +hangings–only to face himself in a large mirror. “Ods-pitikins, my +own reflection!” he exclaimed, with menacing tone, though there was relief +as well in his voice. He bent the point of his blade against the floor, gazed at +himself in the pier-glass and looked over his shoulder at Nell, who stood in the +midst of his courtiers, splitting her sides with laughter, undignified but +honest.</p> + +<p>“Rogue, rogue,” he cried, “I should turn the point on thee +for this trick; but England would be worse than a Puritan funeral with no Nell. +Thou shalt suffer anon.”</p> + +<p>“I defy thee, Sire, and all thy imps of Satan,” laughed the +vixen, as she watched the King sheathe his jewelled sword. “Cast Nell in +the blackest dungeon, Adair is her fellow-prisoner; outlaw Nell, Adair is her +brother outlaw; off with Nell’s head, off rolls Adair’s. Who else +can boast so true a love!”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_288'></a>288</span>“Thou +shalt be banished the realm,” decided the King, jestingly; for he was now +convinced that her Adair was but a jest to tease him–a Roland for his +Oliver.</p> + +<p>“Banished!” cried Nell, with bated breath.</p> + +<p>“Aye; beyond sea, witch!” answered the King, with pompous +austerity. “Virginia shall be thy home.”</p> + +<p>“Good, good!” laughed Nell, gaily. “Sire, the men grow +handsome in Virginia, and dauntless; and they tell me there are a dearth of +women there. Oh, banish me at once to–What’s the name?”</p> + +<p>“Jamestown,” suggested York, recalling the one name because of +its familiar sound.</p> + +<p>“Yea, brother James,” said Nell, fearlessly mimicking his brusque +accent, “Jamestown.”</p> + +<p>“Savages, wild men, cannibals,” scowled Charles.</p> + +<p>“Cannibals!” cried Nell. “Marry, I should love to be a +cannibal. Are there cannibals in Jamestown, brother James? <span class='pagenum +pncolor'><a id='page_289'></a>289</span> Banish me, Sire; banish me to Jamestown +of all places. Up with the sails, my merry men; give me the helm! Adair will +sail in the same good ship, I trow.”</p> + +<p>“Adair! I trow thou wert best at home, cannibal Nelly,” +determined the King.</p> + +<p>“Then set all the men in Britain to watch me, Sire,” said Nell; +“for, from now on, I’ll need it.”</p> + +<p>The King shook his finger warningly at her, then leaned carelessly against +the window.</p> + +<p>“Ho there!” he cried out suddenly. “A night disturbance, a +drunken brawl, beneath our very ears! Fellow-saints, what mean my subjects from +their beds this hour of night? Their sovereign does the revelling for the realm. +James, Rochester and all, see to ’t!”</p> + +<hr class='pb' /> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_290'></a>290</span><a id='link_17'></a>CHAPTER XVII</h2> + +<div class='center'> +<p class='center'><i>The day will be so happy; for I’ve seen you at the +dawn.</i></p> +</div><!-- centered --> + +<p>The room was quickly cleared, the King’s courtiers jostling one another +in their efforts to carry out the royal bidding.</p> + +<p>Charles turned with a merry laugh and seized Nell in his arms almost +fiercely.</p> + +<p>“A subterfuge!” he cried eagerly. “Nell, quick; one +kiss!”</p> + +<p>“Nay; you question my constancy to-night,” said Nell, sadly, as +she looked into his eyes, with the look of perfect love. “You do not trust +me.”</p> + +<p>“I do, sweet Nell,” protested the King, earnestly.</p> + +<p>“You bring me Portsmouth’s lips,” said Nell, with sad +reproof.</p> + +<p>“I left her dance for you,” replied the King, drawing her closer +to him.</p> + +<p>“At near sunrise, Sire,” sighed Nell, reprovingly, as she drew +back the curtain <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_291'></a>291</span> +and revealed the first gray streaks of the breaking light of day.</p> + +<p>“Nay, do not tantalize me, Nell,” besought the King, throwing +himself upon the couch. “I am sad to-night.”</p> + +<p>The woman’s forgiving heart was touched with sympathy. Her eyes sought +his sadly beautiful face. She ran to him, fell upon her knees and kissed his +hand tenderly.</p> + +<p>“Tantalize my King!” she cried. “The day will be so happy; +for I’ve seen you at the dawn.” There was all the emotional fervour +and pathetic tenderness which the great composer has compressed into the +love-music of “Tristan and Isolde” in her voice.</p> + +<p>“My crown is heavy, Nell,” he continued. “Heaven gives us +crowns, but not the eye to see the ending of our deeds.”</p> + +<p>“God sees them,” said Nell. “Ah, Sire, I thank the Maker of +the world for giving a crown to one whom I respect and love.”</p> + +<p>“And I curse it,” cried the King, with <span class='pagenum +pncolor'><a id='page_292'></a>292</span> earnest eyes; “for ’tis the +only barrier to our united love. It is the sparkling spider in the centre of a +great web of intrigue and infamy.”</p> + +<p>“You make me bold to speak. Cut the web, Sire, which binds thy crown to +France. There is the only danger.”</p> + +<p>“Thou art wrong, Nelly, wrong!” He spoke in deep, firm accents. +“I have decided otherwise.”</p> + +<p>He rose abruptly, his brow clouded with thought. She took his hand +tenderly.</p> + +<p>“Then, change your mind, Sire,” she pleaded; “for I can +prove–”</p> + +<p>“What, girl?” he asked eagerly, his curiosity awakened by her +manner.</p> + +<p>Nell did not respond. To continue would reveal Adair, and she could not think +of that.</p> + +<p>“What, I say?” again asked Charles, impatiently.</p> + +<p>“To-morrow, Sire,” laughed Nell, evasively.</p> + +<p>“Aye, to-morrow and to-morrow!” petulantly repeated the King.</p> + +<p>He was about to demand a direct reply <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a +id='page_293'></a>293</span> but was stayed by the sound of a struggle +without.</p> + +<p>It befell in the nick of time for Nell, as all things, indeed, in life seemed +to befall in the nick of time for her. The impious huswives shook their heads +and attributed it to the evil influence; the pious huswives asserted it was +providential; Nell herself laughingly declared it was her lucky star.</p> + +<p>“Ho, without there!” Charles cried, impatiently–almost +angrily–at the interruption. “Whence comes this noisy +riot?”</p> + +<p>James, Rochester and the others unceremoniously re-entered.</p> + +<p>“Pardon, Sire,” explained the Duke of York; “the guard +caught but now an armed ruffian prowling by the house. They report they stayed +him on suspicion of his looks and insolence.”</p> + +<p>“Adair! Adair! My life upon’t!” laughed the King, ever +ready for sport. “Set him before us.”</p> + +<p>An officer of the guard departed quickly to bring in the offender. The +courtiers <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_294'></a>294</span> took up +the King’s cry most readily; and there was a general cackle of +“Adair!” “Adair!” “A trial!” +“Sire!” “Bring in the coward!”</p> + +<p>Nell stood in the midst of the scene, the picture of demure innocence.</p> + +<p>“They’ve caught Adair!” she whispered to Moll, +mischievously.</p> + +<p>“Aye, gallants,” cried the Merry Monarch, approvingly, +“we’ll form a Court of Inquiry. This table shall be our bench, on +which we’ll hem and haw and puff and look judicial. Odsfish, we will teach +Radamanthus and Judge Jeffreys ways of terrorizing.”</p> + +<p>He sprang upon the table, which creaked somewhat beneath the royal burden, +and assumed the austere, frowning brow of worldly justice.</p> + +<p>“<i>Oyer, oyer</i>, all ye who have grievances–” cried the +garrulous Rochester in the husky tones of the crier, who most generally assumes +that he is the whole court and oftentimes should be.</p> + +<p>“Mistress Nell,” commanded the royal judge, summoning Nell to the +bar, “thou <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_295'></a>295</span> +shalt be counsel for the prisoner; Adair’s life hangs upon thy skill to +outwit the law.”</p> + +<p>“Or bribe the judge, Sire?” suggested Nell, demurely.</p> + +<p>“Not with thy traitor lips,” retorted Charles, with the injured +dignity of a petty justice about to commit a flash of true wit for contempt of +court.</p> + +<p>“Traitor lips?” cried Nell, sadly. “By my troth, I never +kissed Adair. I confess, I tried, your Majesty; but I could not.”</p> + +<p>“Have a care,” replied the King, in a tone which indicated that +the fires of suspicion still smouldered in his breast; “I am growing +jealous.”</p> + +<p>Nell fell upon one knee and stretched forth her arms suppliantly.</p> + +<p>“Adair is in such a tight place, Sire, he can scarcely breathe,” +she pleaded, with the zeal of a barrister hard-working for his first fee in her +voice, “much less speak for himself. Mercy!”</p> + +<p>“We will have justice; not mercy,” replied the court, with a sly +wink at Rochester. <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a +id='page_296'></a>296</span> “Guilty or not guilty, wench?”</p> + +<p>“Not guilty, Sire! Did you ever see the man who was?”</p> + +<p>The King laughed despite himself, followed by his ever-aping courtiers.</p> + +<p>“I’ll plead for the Crown,” asserted the grim James, with +great vehemence, “to rid the realm of this dancing-Jack.”</p> + +<p>“Thou hast cause, brother,” laughed the King. “Rochester, +thou shalt sit by us here.”</p> + +<p>Rochester sprang, with a contented chuckle, into a chair on the opposite side +of the table to that upon which his Majesty was holding his mock-court and +seated himself upon its high back, so poised as not to fall. From this lofty +bench, with a queer gurgle, to say nothing of a swelling of the chest, and with +an approving glance from his Majesty, he added his mite to the all-inspiring +dignity of the revellers’ court.</p> + +<p>“Judge Rochester!” continued the King, slapping him with his +glove, across the table. “Judge–of good ale. We’ll confer with +the cups, imbibe the statutes <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a +id='page_297'></a>297</span> and drink in the law. Set the rascal before +us.”</p> + +<p>In obedience to the command, a man well muffled with a cloak was forced into +the room, a guard at either arm.</p> + +<p>Behind them, taking advantage of the open door to appease their curiosity, +crowded many hangers-on of courtdom, among whom was Strings, who had met the +revellers some distance from the house and had returned with them.</p> + +<p>“Hold off your hands, knaves,” commanded the prisoner, who was +none other than Hart, the player, indignant at the detention.</p> + +<p>“Silence, rogue!” commanded the King. “Thy name?”</p> + +<p>“Sire!” cried Hart, throwing off his mantle and glancing for the +first time at the judge’s face. He sank immediately upon one knee, bowing +respectfully.</p> + +<p>“Jack Hart!” cried one and all, craning their necks in surprise +and expectation.</p> + +<p>“’Slife, a spy upon our merry-making!” exclaimed the displeased +monarch. “What means this prowling, sir?”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_298'></a>298</span>“Pardon, +pardon, my reply, your Majesty,” humbly importuned the player. +“Blinded by passion, I might say that I should regret.”</p> + +<p>“Your strange behaviour and stranger looks have meaning, sir,” +cried the King, impatiently. “Out with it! These are too dangerous times +to withhold your thoughts from your King.”</p> + +<p>“No need for commands, Sire,” entreated Hart. “The words +are trembling on my lips and will out themselves in spite of me. At +Portsmouth’s ball, an hour past, I o’erheard that fop Adair boast +to-night a midnight rendezvous here with Nell.”</p> + +<p>Nell placed her hands upon her heart.</p> + +<p>“This–my old friend,” she reflected sadly.</p> + +<p>“Our jest turned earnest,” cried Charles. “Well? +Well?” he questioned, in peremptory tones.</p> + +<p>“I could not believe my ears, Sire,” the prisoner continued, +faltering. “I watched to refute the lie–”</p> + +<p>“Yes–yes–” exhorted the King, in expectation.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_299'></a>299</span>“I cannot +go on.”</p> + +<p>“Knave, I command!”</p> + +<p>“I saw Adair enter this abode at midnight.” Hart’s head +fell, full of shame, upon his breast.</p> + +<p>“’Sblood,” muttered the King, scarce mindful that his words might +be audible to those about him, “my heart stands still as if’t were +knifed. My pretty golden-head, my bonnie Nell!” He turned sharply toward +the player. “Your words are false, false, sir! Kind Heaven, they must +be.”</p> + +<p>“Pardon, Sire,” pleaded Hart; “I know not what I do or say. +Only love for Nell led me to this spot.”</p> + +<p>“Love!” cried Nell, with the irony of sadness. “Oh, +inhuman, to spy out my ways, resort to mean device, involve my honour, and call +the motive love!”</p> + +<p>“You are cruel, cruel, Nell,” sobbed Hart; and he turned away his +eyes. He could not look at her.</p> + +<p>“Love!” continued Nell, bitterly. “True love would come +alone, filled with gentle admonition. I pity you, friend Hart, that God has made +you thus!”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_300'></a>300</span>“No more, +no more!” Hart quite broke beneath the strain.</p> + +<p>“Dost hear, dost hear?” cried Charles, in ecstasy, deeply +affected by Nell’s exposition of true love. “Sir, you are the second +to-night to belie the dearest name in England. You shall answer well to +me.”</p> + +<p>“Ask the lady, Sire,” pleaded Hart, in desperation. +“I’ll stake my life upon her reply.”</p> + +<p>“Nell?–Nell?” questioned the King; for he could scarce +refuse to accept her word when a player had placed unquestioned faith in it.</p> + +<p>Nell hid her face in her silken kerchief and burst into seeming spasmodic +sobs of grief. “Sire!” was all the response the King could hear. He +trembled violently and his face grew white. He did not know that Nell’s +tears were merry laughs.</p> + +<p>“Her tears convict her,” exclaimed Hart, triumphantly.</p> + +<p>“I’ll not believe it,” cried the King.</p> + +<p>Nell became more hysterical. She sobbed and sobbed, as though her heart would +break, her face buried in her hands <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a +id='page_301'></a>301</span> and her flying curls falling over and hiding +all.</p> + +<p>“Adair’s sides are aching,” she chuckled, in apparent +convulsions of sorrow. “He’s laughing through Nell’s +tears.”</p> + +<p>Meanwhile, Moll had been standing by the window; and, though she was watching +eagerly the exciting scene within the room, she could not fail to note the sound +of galloping horses and the rattling of a heavy coach on the roadway +without.</p> + +<p>“A coach and six at break-neck speed,” she cried, “have +landed at the door. A cavalier alights.”</p> + +<p>“Time some one arrived,” thought Nell, as she glanced at herself +in the mirror, to see that Adair was well hidden, and to arrange her curls, to +bewitch the new arrivals, whosoever they might be.</p> + +<p>As the cavalier dashed up the path, in the moonlight, Moll recognized the +Duke of Buckingham, and at once announced his name.</p> + +<p>“Ods-pitikins!” exclaimed Charles, angrily. “No leisure for +Buckingham now. We have other business.”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_302'></a>302</span>He had scarce +spoken, however, when Buckingham, unceremoniously and almost breathless, entered +the room.</p> + +<p>“How now?” cried the King, fiercely, as the Duke fell on his knee +before him; for his temper had been wrought to a high pitch.</p> + +<p>“Pardon, your Majesty,” besought his lordship, in nervous +accents. “My mission will excuse my haste and interruption. Your ear I +crave one moment. Sire, I am told Nell has to-night secreted in this house a +lover!”</p> + +<p>“Another one!” whispered Nell to Moll.</p> + +<p>“’Tis hearsay,” cried the King, now at fever-heat, “the +give-and-take of gossips! I’ll none of it.”</p> + +<p>“My witness, Sire!” answered Buckingham.</p> + +<p>He turned toward the door; and there, to the astonishment of all, stood the +Duchess of Portsmouth, who had followed him from the coach, a lace mantilla, +caught up in her excitement, protecting her shapely shoulders and head.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_303'></a>303</span>As the assembled +courtiers looked upon the beautiful rivals, standing, as they did, face to face +before the King, and realized the situation, their faces grew grave, indeed.</p> + +<p>The suspense became intense.</p> + +<p>“The day of reckoning’s come,” thought Nell, as she met +with burning glances the Duchess’s eyes.</p> + +<p>“Speak, your grace,” exhorted Buckingham. “The King attends +you.”</p> + +<p>“Nay, before all, my lord?” protested Portsmouth, with pretended +delicacy. “I could not do Madame Gwyn so much injustice.”</p> + +<p>“If your speech concerns me,” observed Nell, mildly, “out +with it boldly. My friends will consider the source.”</p> + +<p>“Speak, and quickly!” commanded Charles.</p> + +<p>“I would rather lose my tongue,” still protested the Duchess, +“than speak such words of any one; but my duty to your +Majesty–”</p> + +<p>“No preludes,” interrupted the King; and he meant it, too. He was +done with <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_304'></a>304</span> +trifling, and the Duchess saw it.</p> + +<p>“My servants,” she said, with a virtuous look, “passing +this abode by chance, this very night, saw at a questionable hour a strange +cavalier entering the boudoir of Madame Gwyn!”</p> + +<p>“She would make my honour the price of her revenge,” thought +Nell, her eyes flashing. “She shall rue those words, or Adair’s head +and mine are one for naught.”</p> + +<p>“What say you to this, Nell?” asked the King, the words choking +in his throat.</p> + +<p>“Sire,–I–I–” answered Nell, evasively. +“There’s some mistake or knavery!”</p> + +<p>“She hesitates,” interpolated the Duchess, eagerly.</p> + +<p>“You change colour, wench,” cried Charles, his heart, indeed, +again upon the rack. “Ho, without there! Search the house.”</p> + +<p>An officer entered quickly to obey the mandate.</p> + +<p>“Stay, Sire,” exclaimed Nell, raising herself to her full height, +her hot, trembling lips compressed, her cheeks aflame. <span class='pagenum +pncolor'><a id='page_305'></a>305</span> “My oath, I have not seen +Adair’s face this night.”</p> + +<p>Her words fell upon the assemblage like thunder from a June-day sky. The +King’s face brightened. The Duchess’s countenance grew pale as +death.</p> + +<p>“<i>Mon Dieu!</i> Adair!” she gasped in startled accents to Lord +Buckingham, attendant at her side. “Could it be he my servants saw? The +packet! Fool! Why did I give it him?”</p> + +<p>Buckingham trembled violently. He was even more startled than Portsmouth; for +he had more to lose. England was his home and France was hers.</p> + +<p>“The scales are turning against us,” he whispered. “Throw +in this ring for safety. Nell’s gift to Adair; you understand.”</p> + +<p>He slipped, unobserved, upon the Duchess’s finger the jewelled ring the +King had given to Almahyde among the roses at the performance of +“Granada.”</p> + +<p>“Yes! Yes! ’Tis my only chance,” she answered, catching at his +meaning; for her wits were of the sharpest in intrigue and cunning, and she +possessed the boldness <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a +id='page_306'></a>306</span> too to execute her plans.</p> + +<p>She approached the King, with the confident air possessed by great women who +have been bred at court.</p> + +<p>“Your Majesty recognizes this ring?” she asked in mildest +accents.</p> + +<p>“The one I gave to Nell!” answered the astonished King.</p> + +<p>“The one Adair this night gave to me,” said Portsmouth, +calmly.</p> + +<p>“’Tis false!” cried Nell, who could restrain her tongue no +longer. “I gave that ring to dear old Strings.”</p> + +<p>“A rare jewel to bestow upon a fiddler,” said the Duchess, +sarcastically.</p> + +<p>“It is true,” said Strings, who had wormed his way through the +group at mention of his name and now stood the meek central figure at the +strange hearing. “My little ones were starving, Sire; and Nell gave me the +ring–all she had. They could not eat the gold; so I sold it to the Duke of +Buckingham!”</p> + +<p>“We are lost,” whispered Buckingham to Portsmouth, scarce +audibly.</p> + +<p>“Coward!” sneered the Duchess, contemptuously. <span +class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_307'></a>307</span> “I am not ready to +sail for France so soon.”</p> + +<p>The King stood irresolute. Events had transpired so quickly that he scarce +knew what it was best to do. His troubled spirit longed for a further hearing, +while his heart demanded the ending of the scene with a peremptory word.</p> + +<p>Before he could decide upon his course, the Duchess had swept across the +room, with queenly grace.</p> + +<p>“Our hostess will pardon my eyes for wandering,” she said, +undaunted; “but her abode is filled with pleasant surprises. Sire, here is +a piece of handiwork.”</p> + +<p>She knelt by the couch, and drew from under it a coat of gray, one sleeve of +which had caught her eye.</p> + +<p>Nell looked at Moll with reproving glances.</p> + +<p>“Marry, ’tis Strings’s, of course,” continued +Portsmouth, dangling the coat before the wondering eyes of all. “The lace, +the ruffle, becomes his complexion. He fits everything here so +beautifully.”</p> + +<p>As she turned the garment slowly about, <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a +id='page_308'></a>308</span> she caught sight of a package of papers protruding +from its inner pocket, sealed with her own seal. For the first time, the +significance of the colour of the coat came home to her.</p> + +<p>“<i>Mon Dieu</i>,” she cried, “Adair’s +coat.–The packet!”</p> + +<p>Her fingers sought the papers eagerly; but Nell’s eye and hand were too +quick for her.</p> + +<p>“Not so fast, dear Duchess,” said Nell, sweetly, passing the +little packet to his Majesty. “Our King must read these papers–and +between the lines as well.”</p> + +<p>“Enough of this!” commanded Charles. “What is +it?”</p> + +<p>“Some papers, Sire,” said Nell, pointedly, “given for a +kiss and taken with a kiss. I have not had time to read them.”</p> + +<p>“Some family papers, Sire,” asserted the Duchess, with assumed +indifference, “stolen from my house.”</p> + +<p>She would have taken them from his Majesty, so great, indeed, was her +boldness; but Nell again stayed her.</p> + +<p>“Aye, stolen,” said Nell, sharply; “but <span +class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_309'></a>309</span> by the hostess +herself–from her unsuspecting, royal guest. There, Sire, stands the only +thief!” She pointed accusingly at Portsmouth.</p> + +<p>“My signature!” cried Charles, as he ran his eye down a +parchment. “The treaties! No more Parliaments for England. I agreed to +that.”</p> + +<p>“I agree to that myself,” said Nell, roguishly. +“England’s King is too great to need Parliaments. The King should +have a confidential adviser, however–not French,” and she cast a +defiant glance at Portsmouth, “but English. Read on; read on.”</p> + +<p>She placed her pretty cheek as near as possible to the King’s as she +followed the letters over his shoulder.</p> + +<p>“A note to Bouillon!” he said, perusing the parchments further. +“Charles consents to the fall of Luxembourg. I did not sign all this. I +see it all: Louis’s ambition to rule the world, England’s King +debased by promises won and royal contracts made with a clever +woman–forgery mixed with truth. Sweet Heaven, what have I done!”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_310'></a>310</span>“The +papers have not gone, Sire,” blandly remarked Nell.</p> + +<p>“Thanks to you, my Nell,” said Charles. He addressed Portsmouth +sharply: “Madame, your coach awaits you.”</p> + +<p>“But, Sire,” replied the Duchess, who was brave to the last, +“Madame Gwyn has yet Adair to answer for!”</p> + +<p>“Adair will answer for himself!” cried Nell, triumphantly.</p> + +<p>She threw aside the pink gown and stood as Adair before the astonished eyes +of all.</p> + +<p>“At your service,” she said, bowing sweetly to the Duchess.</p> + +<p>“A player’s trick!” cried Portsmouth, haughtily, as a +parting shot of contempt.</p> + +<p>“Yes, Portsmouth,” replied Nell, still in sweetest accents, +“to show where lies the true and where the false.”</p> + +<p>“You are a witch,” hissed Portsmouth.</p> + +<p>“You are the King’s true love,” exclaimed the Merry +Monarch. “To my arms, Nell, to my arms; for you first taught me the +meaning of true love! Buckingham, you forget your courtesy. Her grace wishes to +be escorted to her coach.”</p> + +<div class='figcenter'> +<a id='link_i12'></a><img src='images/nell-310.jpg' alt='' /> +<p class='center caption'> +“ONCE MORE YOU HAVE SAVED ME.” +</p> +</div> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_311'></a>311</span>“<i>Bon +voyage</i>, madame,” said Nell, demurely, as the Duchess took +Buckingham’s arm and departed.</p> + +<p>The King’s eyes fell upon the player, Hart, who was still in +custody.</p> + +<p>“Away with this wretch!” he cried, incensed at his conduct. +“I am not done with him.”</p> + +<p>“Forgive him, Sire,” interceded Nell. “He took his cue from +Heaven, and good has come of it.”</p> + +<p>“True, Nell,” said the King, mercifully. Then he turned to Hart: +“You are free; but henceforth act the knave only on the stage.” Hart +bowed with shame and withdrew.</p> + +<p>“Sire, Sire,” exclaimed Strings, forgetting his decorum in his +eagerness.</p> + +<p>“Well, Strings?” inquired the King, good-humouredly; for there +was now no cloud in his sky.</p> + +<p>“Let me play the exit for the villains?” he pleaded unctuously. +“The old fiddle is just bursting with tunes.”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_312'></a>312</span>“You +shall, Strings,” replied his Majesty, “and on a Cremona. From +to-day, you lead the royal orchestra.”</p> + +<p>“Odsbud,” cried Strings, gleefully, “I can offer Jack Hart +an engagement.”</p> + +<p>“Just retribution, Strings,” laughed Nell, happily. “Can +you do as much for Nell, and forgive her, Sire?”</p> + +<p>“It is I who should ask your pardon, Nell,” exclaimed the King, +ecstatically, throwing both arms passionately about her. “You are +Charles’s queen; you should be England’s.”</p> + +<p><i>So the story ends, as all good stories should, in a perfect, unbroken +dream of love.</i></p> + +<div class='tpi'> +<img alt='emblem' src='images/nell-323.jpg' /> +</div> + +<hr class='pb' /> + +<p class='c fs12'>EPILOGUE</p> + +<p>Spoken by Miss Crosman for the first time in New York at the Bijou Theatre on +the evening of October 9, 1900:</p> + +<div class='poetry'> +<p><i>Good friends, before we end the play,<br /> I beg you all a moment +stay:<br /> I warn my sex, by Nell’s affair,<br /> Against a rascal +called Adair!</i><br />  <br /> <i>If lovers’ hearts you’d +truly scan,<br /> Odsfish, perk up, and be a man!</i></p> </div><!-- poetry +--> + +<hr class='pb' /> + +<p class='c fs12 mb00'>GROSSET & DUNLAP’S</p> +<p class='c fs14 mt00 mb10'>DRAMATIZED NOVELS</p> +<p class='c mb20'>Original, sincere and courageous–often amusing–the +kind that are +making theatrical history.</p> + +<p>MADAME X. By Alexandre Bisson and J. W. McConaughy. Illustrated with scenes +from the play.</p> + +<p>A beautiful Parisienne became an outcast because her husband would not +forgive an error of her youth. Her love for her son is the great final influence +in her career. A tremendous dramatic success.</p> + +<p>THE GARDEN OF ALLAH. By Robert Hichens.</p> + +<p>An unconventional English woman and an inscrutable stranger meet and love in +an oasis of the Sahara. Staged this season with magnificent cast and gorgeous +properties.</p> + +<p>THE PRINCE OF INDIA. By Lew. Wallace.</p> + +<p>A glowing romance of the Byzantine Empire, presenting with extraordinary +power the siege of Constantinople, and lighting its tragedy with the warm +underglow of an Oriental romance. As a play it is a great dramatic +spectacle.</p> + +<p>TESS OF THE STORM COUNTRY. By Grace Miller White. Illust. by Howard Chandler +Christy.</p> + +<p>A girl from the dregs of society, loves a young Cornell University student, +and it works startling changes in her life and the lives of those about her. The +dramatic version is one of the sensations of the season.</p> + +<p>YOUNG WALLINGFORD. By George Randolph Chester. Illust. by F. R. Gruger and +Henry Raleigh.</p> + +<p>A series of clever swindles conducted by a cheerful young man, each of which +is just on the safe side of a State’s prison offense. As +“Get-Rich-Quick Wallingford,” it is probably the most amusing expose +of money manipulation ever seen on the stage.</p> + +<p>THE INTRUSION OF JIMMY. By P. G. Wodehouse. Illustrations by Will Grefe.</p> + +<p>Social and club life in London and New York, an amateur burglary adventure +and a love story. Dramatized under the title of “A Gentleman of +Leisure,” it furnishes hours of laughter to the play-goers.</p> + +<p class='c'><span class='sc'>Grosset & Dunlap, 526 West 26</span>th <span +class='sc'>St., New York</span></p> + +<hr class='pb' /> + +<p class='c fs12 mb00'>GROSSET & DUNLAP’S</p> +<p class='c fs14 mt00 mb10'>DRAMATIZED NOVELS</p> +<p class='fs08 c mb20'>May be had wherever books are sold. Ask for Grosset & +Dunlap’s list</p> + +<p>WITHIN THE LAW. By Bayard Veiller & Marvin Dana Illustrated by Wm. +Charles Cooke.</p> + +<p>This is a novelization of the immensely successful play which ran for two +years in New York and Chicago.</p> + +<p>The plot of this powerful novel is of a young woman’s revenge directed +against her employer who allowed her to be sent to prison for three years on a +charge of theft, of which she was innocent.</p> + +<p>WHAT HAPPENED TO MARY. By Robert Carlton Brown. Illustrated with scenes from +the play.</p> + +<p>This is a narrative of a young and innocent country girl who is suddenly +thrown into the very heart of New York, “the land of her dreams,” +where she is exposed to all sorts of temptations and dangers.</p> + +<p>The story of Mary is being told in moving pictures and played in theatres all +over the world.</p> + +<p>THE RETURN OF PETER GRIMM. By David Belasco, Illustrated by John Rae.</p> + +<p>This is a novelization of the popular play in which David War, field, as Old +Peter Grimm, scored such a remarkable success.</p> + +<p>The story is spectacular and extremely pathetic but withal, powerful, both as +a book and as a play.</p> + +<p>THE GARDEN OF ALLAH. By Robert Hichens.</p> + +<p>This novel is an intense, glowing epic of the great desert, sunlit barbaric, +with its marvelous atmosphere of vastness and loneliness.</p> + +<p>It is a book of rapturous beauty, vivid in word painting. The play has been +staged with magnificent cast and gorgeous properties.</p> + +<p>BEN HUR. A Tale of the Christ. By General Lew Wallace.</p> + +<p>The whole world has placed this famous Religious-Historical Romance on a +height of pre-eminence which no other novel of its time has reached. The +clashing of rivalry and the deepest human passions, the perfect reproduction of +brilliant Roman life, and the tense, fierce atmosphere of the arena have kept +their deep fascination. A tremendous dramatic success.</p> + +<p>BOUGHT AND PAID FOR. By George Broadhurst and Arthur Hornblow. Illustrated +with scenes from the play.</p> + +<p>A stupendous arraignment of modern marriage which has created an interest on +the stage that is almost unparalleled. The scenes are laid in New York, and deal +with conditions among both the rich and poor.</p> + +<p>The interest of the story turns on the day-by-day developments which show the +young wife the price she has paid.</p> + +<p class='c'><i>Ask for a complete free list of G. & D. Popular Copyrighted +Fiction</i><br /> +<span class='sc'>Grosset & Dunlap, 526 West 26</span>th <span class='sc'>St., New York</span></p> + +<hr class='pb' /> + +<p class='c fs12 mb00'>TITLES SELECTED FROM</p> +<p class='c fs14 mt00 mb10'>GROSSET & DUNLAP’S LIST</p> +<p class='c fs08 mb10'>RE-ISSUES OF THE GREAT LITERARY SUCCESSES OF THE TIME</p> +<p class='fs08 c mb20'>May be had wherever books are sold. Ask for Grosset & +Dunlap’s list</p> + +<p>BEN HUR. A Tale of the Christ. By General Lew Wallace</p> + +<p>This famous Religious-Historical Romance with its mighty story, brilliant +pageantry, thrilling action and deep religious reverence, hardly requires an +outline. The whole world has placed “Ben-Hur” on a height of +pre-eminence which no other novel of its time has reached. The clashing of +rivalry and the deepest human passions, the perfect reproduction of brilliant +Roman life, and the tense, fierce atmosphere of the arena have kept their deep +fascination.</p> + +<p>THE PRINCE OF INDIA. By General Lew Wallace</p> + +<p>A glowing romance of the Byzantine Empire, showing, with vivid imagination, +the possible forces behind the internal decay of the Empire that hastened the +fall of Constantinople.</p> + +<p>The foreground figure is the person known to all as the Wandering Jew, at +this time appearing as the Prince of India, with vast stores of wealth, and is +supposed to have instigated many wars and fomented the Crusades.</p> + +<p>Mohammed’s love for the Princess Irene is beautifully wrought into the +story, and the book as a whole is a marvelous work both historically and +romantically.</p> + +<p>THE FAIR GOD. By General Lew Wallace. A Tale of the Conquest of Mexico. With +Eight Illustrations by Eric Pape.</p> + +<p>All the annals of conquest have nothing more brilliantly daring and dramatic +than the drama played in Mexico by Cortes. As a dazzling picture of Mexico and +the Montezumas it leaves nothing to be desired.</p> + +<p>The artist has caught with rare enthusiasm the spirit of the Spanish +conquerors of Mexico, its beauty and glory and romance.</p> + +<p>TARRY THOU TILL I COME or, Salathiel, the Wandering Jew. By George Croly. +With twenty illustrations by T. de Thulstrup</p> + +<p>A historical novel, dealing with the momentous events that occurred, chiefly +in Palestine, from the time of the Crucifixion to the, destruction of +Jerusalem.</p> + +<p>The book, as a story, is replete with Oriental charm and richness and the +character drawing is marvelous. No other novel ever written has portrayed with +such vividness the events that convulsed Rome and destroyed Jerusalem in the +early days of Christanity.</p> + +<p class='c'><i>Ask for a complete free list of G. & D. Popular Copyrighted +Fiction</i><br /> +<span class='sc'>Grosset & Dunlap, 526 West 26</span>th <span class='sc'>St., New York</span></p> + +<hr class='pb' /> + +<p class='c fs14'>STORIES OF WESTERN LIFE</p> +<p class='c fs08'>May be had wherever books are sold. Ask for Grosset & +Dunlap’s list</p> + +<p>RIDERS OF THE PURPLE SAGE, By Zane Grey. Illustrated by Douglas Duer.</p> + +<p>In this picturesque romance of Utah of some forty years ago, we are permitted +to see the unscrupulous methods employed by the invisible hand of the Mormon +Church to break the will of those refusing to conform to its rule.</p> + +<p>FRIAR TUCK, By Robert Alexander Wason. Illustrated by Stanley L. Wood.</p> + +<p>Happy Hawkins tells us, in his humorous way, how Friar Tuck lived among the +Cowboys, how he adjusted their quarrels and love affairs and how he fought with +them and for them when occasion required.</p> + +<p>THE SKY PILOT, By Ralph Connor.</p> + +<p>Illustrated by Louis Rhead.</p> + +<p>There is no novel, dealing with the rough existence of cowboys, so charming +in the telling, abounding as it does with the freshest and the truest +pathos.</p> + +<p>THE EMIGRANT TRAIL, By Geraldine Bonner. Colored frontispiece by John +Rae.</p> + +<p>The book relates the adventures of a party on its overland pilgrimage, and +the birth and growth of the absorbing love of two strong men for a charming +heroine.</p> + +<p>THE BOSS OF WIND RIVER, By A. M. Chisholm.</p> + +<p>Illustrated by Frank Tenney Johnson.</p> + +<p>This is a strong, virile novel with the lumber industry for its central theme +and a love story full of interest as a sort of subplot.</p> + +<p>A PRAIRIE COURTSHIP, By Harold Bindloss.</p> + +<p>A story of Canadian prairies in which the hero is stirred, through the +influence of his love for a woman, to settle down to the heroic business of +pioneer farming.</p> + +<p>JOYCE OF THE NORTH WOODS, By Harriet T. Comstock.</p> + +<p>Illustrated by John Cassel.</p> + +<p>A story of the deep woods that shows the power of love at work among its +primitive dwellers. It is a tensely moving study of the human heart and its +aspirations that unfolds itself through thrilling situations and dramatic +developments.</p> + +<p class='c'><i>Ask for a complete free list of G. & D. Popular Copyrighted +Fiction</i><br /> +<span class='sc'>Grosset & Dunlap, 526 West 26</span>th <span class='sc'>St., New York</span></p> + +<hr class='pb' /> + +<p class='c fs12 mb00'>THE NOVELS OF</p> +<p class='c fs14 mt00 mb20'>STEWART EDWARD WHITE</p> + +<p>THE RULES OF THE GAME. Illustrated by Lajaren A. Killer</p> + +<p>The romance of the son of “The Riverman.” The young college hero +goes into the lumber camp, is antagonized by “graft” and comes into +the romance of his life.</p> + +<p>ARIZONA NIGHTS. Illus. and cover inlay by N. C. Wyeth.</p> + +<p>A series of spirited tales emphasizing some phases of the life of the ranch, +plains and desert. A masterpiece.</p> + +<p>THE BLAZED TRAIL. With illustrations by Thomas Fogarty.</p> + +<p>A wholesome story with gleams of humor, telling of a young man who blazed his +way to fortune through the heart of the Michigan pines.</p> + +<p>THE CLAIM JUMPERS. A Romance.</p> + +<p>The tenderfoot manager of a mine in a lonesome gulch of the Black Hills has a +hard time of it, but “wins out” in more ways than one.</p> + +<p>CONJUROR’S HOUSE. Illustrated Theatrical Edition.</p> + +<p>Dramatized under the title of “The Call of the North.”</p> + +<p>Conjuror’s House is a Hudson Bay trading post where the head +factor is the absolute lord. A young fellow risked his life and won a bride on +this forbidden land.</p> + +<p>THE MAGIC FOREST. A Modern Fairy Tale. Illustrated.</p> + +<p>The sympathetic way in which the children of the wild and their life is +treated could only belong to one who is in love with the forest and open air. +Based on fact.</p> + +<p>THE RIVERMAN. Illus. by N. C. Wyeth and C. Underwood.</p> + +<p>The story of a man’s fight against a river and of a struggle between +honesty and grit on the one side, and dishonesty and shrewdness on the +other.</p> + +<p>THE SILENT PLACES. Illustrations by Philip R. Goodwin.</p> + +<p>The wonders of the northern forests, the heights of feminine devotion, and +masculine power, the intelligence of the Caucasian and the instinct of the +Indian, are all finely drawn in this story.</p> + +<p>THE WESTERNERS.</p> + +<p>A story of the Black Hills that is justly placed among the best American +novels. It portrays the life of the new West as no other book has done in recent +years.</p> + +<p>THE MYSTERY. In collaboration with Samuel Hopkins Adams</p> + +<p class='c'><span class='sc'>Grosset & Dunlap, 526 West 26</span>th <span +class='sc'>St., New York</span></p> + +<hr class='pb' /> + +<p class='c fs14 mb00'>JOHN FOX, JR’S.</p> +<p class='c fs12 mt00 mb10'>STORIES OF THE KENTUCKY MOUNTAINS</p> +<p class='c fs08 mb20'>May be had wherever books are sold. Ask for Grosset and +Dunlap’s list.</p> + +<p>THE TRAIL OF THE LONESOME PINE.</p> + +<p>Illustrated by F. C. Yohn.</p> + +<div class='figleft'> +<a id='link_i13'></a><img src='images/nell-ad1.jpg' alt='' /> +<p class='center caption'> + +</p> +</div> + +<p>The “lonesome pine” from which the story takes its name was a +tall tree that stood in solitary splendor on a mountain top. The fame of the +pine lured a young engineer through Kentucky to catch the trail, and when he +finally climbed to its shelter he found not only the pine but the <i>foot-prints +of a girl</i>. And the girl proved to be lovely, piquant, and the trail of these +girlish foot-prints led the young engineer a madder chase than “the trail +of the lonesome pine.”</p> + +<p>THE LITTLE SHEPHERD OF KINGDOM COME</p> + +<p>Illustrated by F. C. Yohn.</p> + +<p>This is a story of Kentucky, in a settlement known as “Kingdom +Come.” It is a life rude, semi-barbarous; but natural and honest, from +which often springs the flower of civilization.</p> + +<p>“Chad,” the “little shepherd” did not know who he was +nor whence he came–he had just wandered from door to door since early +childhood, seeking shelter with kindly mountaineers who gladly fathered and +mothered this waif about whom there was such a mystery–a charming waif, by +the way, who could play the banjo better that anyone else in the mountains.</p> + +<p>A KNIGHT OF THE CUMBERLAND.</p> + +<p>Illustrated by F. C. Yohn.</p> + +<p>The scenes are laid along the waters of the Cumberland the lair of moonshiner +and feudsman. The knight is a moonshiner’s son, and the heroine a +beautiful girl perversely christened “The Blight.” Two impetuous +young Southerners’ fall under the spell of “The +Blight’s” charms and she learns what a large part jealousy and +pistols have in the love making of the mountaineers.</p> + +<p>Included in this volume is “Hell fer-Sartain” and other stories, +some of Mr. Fox’s most entertaining Cumberland valley narratives.</p> + +<p class='c'><i>Ask for a complete free list of G. & D. Popular Copyrighted +Fiction</i><br /> +<span class='sc'>Grosset & Dunlap, 526 West 26</span>th <span class='sc'>St., New York</span></p> + +<hr class='pb' /> + +<p class='c fs12 mb00'>STORIES OF RARE CHARM</p> +<p class='c fs14 mt00 mb10'>GENE STRATTON-PORTER</p> +<p class='c fs08 mb20'>May be had wherever books are sold. Ask for Grosset and +Dunlap’s list.</p> + +<p>THE HARVESTER</p> + +<p>Illustrated by W. L. Jacobs</p> + +<div class='figleft'> +<a id='link_i14'></a><img src='images/nell-ad2.jpg' alt='' /> +<p class='center caption'> + +</p> +</div> + +<p>“The Harvester,” David Langston, is a man of the woods and +fields, who draws his living from the prodigal hand of Mother Nature herself. If +the book had nothing in it but the splendid figure of this man, with his sure +grip on life, his superb optimism, and his almost miraculous knowledge of nature +secrets, it would be notable. But when the Girl comes to his “Medicine +Woods,” and the Harvester’s whole sound, healthy, large outdoor +being realizes that this is the highest point of life which has come to +him–there begins a romance, troubled and interrupted, yet of the rarest +idyllic quality.</p> + +<p>FRECKLES. Decorations by E. Stetson Crawford</p> + +<p>Freckles is a nameless waif when the tale opens, but the way in which he +takes hold of life; the nature friendships he forms in the great Limberlost +Swamp; the manner in which everyone who meets him succumbs to the charm of his +engaging personality; and his love-story with “The Angel” are full +of real sentiment,</p> + +<p>A GIRL OF THE LIMBERLOST</p> + +<p>Illustrated by Wladyslaw T. Brenda.</p> + +<p>The story of a girl of the Michigan woods; a buoyant, lovable type of the +self-reliant American. Her philosophy is one of love and kindness towards all +things; her hope is never dimmed. And by the sheer beauty of her soul, and the +purity of her vision, she wins from barren and unpromising surroundings those +rewards of high courage.</p> + +<p>It is an inspiring story of a life worth while and the rich beauties of the +out-of-doors are strewn through all its pages.</p> + +<p>AT THE FOOT OF THE RAINBOW.</p> + +<p>Illustrations in colors by Oliver Kemp. Design and decorations by Ralph +Fletcher Seymour.</p> + +<p>The scene of this charming, idyllic love story is laid in Central Indiana. +The story is one of devoted friendship, and tender self-sacrificing love; the +friendship that gives freely without return, and the love that seeks first the +happiness of the object. The novel is brimful of the most beautiful word +painting of nature, and its pathos and tender sentiment will endear it to +all.</p> + +<p class='c'><i>Ask for a complete free list of G. & D. Popular Copyrighted +Fiction</i><br /> +<span class='sc'>Grosset & Dunlap, 526 West 26</span>th <span class='sc'>St., New York</span></p> + +<hr class='pb' /> + +<p class='c fs12'>CHARMING BOOKS FOR GIRLS</p> +<p class='c fs08'>May be had wherever books are sold. Ask for Grosset & +Dunlap’s list</p> + +<p>WHEN PATTY WENT TO COLLEGE, By Jean Webster. Illustrated by C. D. +Williams.</p> + +<p>One of the best stories of life in a girl’s college that has ever been +written. It is bright, whimsical and entertaining, lifelike, laughable and +thoroughly human.</p> + +<p>JUST PATTY, By Jean Webster. Illustrated by C. M. Relyea.</p> + +<p>Patty is full of the joy of living, fun-loving, given to ingenious mischief +for its own sake, with a disregard for pretty convention which is an unfailing +source of joy to her fellows.</p> + +<p>THE POOR LITTLE RICH GIRL, By Eleanor Gates. With four full page +illustrations.</p> + +<p>This story relates the experience of one of those unfortunate children whose +early days are passed in the companionship of a governess, seldom seeing either +parent, and famishing for natural love and tenderness. A charming play as +dramatized by the author.</p> + +<p>REBECCA OF SUNNYBROOK FARM, By Kate Douglas Wiggin.</p> + +<p>One of the most beautiful studies of childhood–Rebecca’s +artistic, unusual and quaintly charming qualities stand out midst a circle of +austere New Englanders. The stage version is making a phenomenal dramatic +record.</p> + +<p>NEW CHRONICLES OF REBECCA, By Kate Douglas Wiggin. Illustrated by F. C. +Yohn.</p> + +<p>Additional episodes in the girlhood of this delightful heroine that carry +Rebecca through various stages to her eighteenth birthday.</p> + +<p>REBECCA MARY, By Annie Hamilton Donnell. Illustrated by Elizabeth Shippen +Green.</p> + +<p>This author possesses the rare gift of portraying all the grotesque little +joys and sorrows and scruples of this very small girl with a pathos that is +peculiarly genuine and appealing.</p> + +<p>EMMY LOU: Her Book and Heart, By George Madden Martin, Illustrated by Charles +Louis Hinton.</p> + +<p>Emmy Lou is irresistibly lovable, because she is so absolutely real. She is; +just a bewitchingly innocent, hugable little maid. The book is wonderfully +human.</p> + +<p class='c'><i>Ask for a complete free list of G. & D. Popular Copyrighted +Fiction</i><br /> +<span class='sc'>Grosset & Dunlap, 526 West 26</span>th <span class='sc'>St., New York</span></p> + +<hr class='pb' /> + +<p class='c fs12 mb00'>THE NOVELS OF</p> +<p class='c fs14 mt00 mb10'>CLARA LOUISE BURNHAM</p> +<p class='c fs08 mb20'>May be had wherever books are sold. Ask for Grosset and +Dunlap’s list.</p> + +<p><span class='ul'>JEWEL:</span> A Chapter in Her Life. Illustrated by Maude +and Genevieve Cowles.</p> + +<p>A sweet, dainty story, breathing the doctrine of love and patience; and sweet +nature and cheerfulness.</p> + +<p><span class='ul'>JEWEL’S STORY BOOK.</span> Illustrated by Albert +Schmitt.</p> + +<p>A sequel to “Jewel” and equally enjoyable.</p> + +<p><span class='ul'>CLEVER BETSY.</span> Illustrated by Rose O’Neill.</p> + +<p>The “Clever Betsy” was a boat–named for the unyielding +spinster whom the captain hoped to marry. Through the two Betsys a clever group +of people are introduced to the reader.</p> + +<p><span class='ul'>SWEET CLOVER:</span> A Romance of the White City.</p> + +<p>A story of Chicago at the time of the World’s Fair. A sweet human story +that touches the heart.</p> + +<p><span class='ul'>THE OPENED SHUTTERS.</span> Frontispiece by Harrison +Fisher.</p> + +<p>A summer haunt on an island in Casco Bay is the background for this romance. +A beautiful woman, at discord with life, is brought to realize, by her new +friends, that she may open the shutters of her soul to the blessed sunlight of +joy by casting aside vanity and self love. A delicately humorous work with a +lofty motive underlying it all.</p> + +<p><span class='ul'>THE RIGHT PRINCESS.</span></p> + +<p>An amusing story, opening at a fashionable Long Island resort, where a +stately Englishwoman employs a forcible New England housekeeper to serve in her +interesting home. How types so widely apart react on each other’s lives, +all to ultimate good, makes a story both humorous and rich in sentiment.</p> + +<p><span class='ul'>THE LEAVEN OF LOVE.</span> Frontispiece by Harrison +Fisher.</p> + +<p>At a Southern California resort a world-weary woman, young and beautiful but +disillusioned, meets a girl who has learned the art of living–of tasting +life in all its richness, opulence and joy. The story hinges upon the change +wrought in the soul of the blasè woman by this glimpse into a cheery life.</p> + +<p class='c'><i>Ask for a complete free list of G. & D. Popular Copyrighted +Fiction</i><br /> +<span class='sc'>Grosset & Dunlap, 526 West 26</span>th <span class='sc'>St., New York</span></p> + +<hr class='pb' /> + +<p class='c fs14 mb00'>LOUIS TRACY’S</p> +<p class='c fs12 mt00 mb10'>CAPTIVATING AND EXHILARATING ROMANCES</p> +<p class='c fs08 mb20'>May be had wherever books are sold. Ask for Grosset & +Dunlap’s list</p> + +<p><span class='ul'>CYNTHIA’S CHAUFFEUR.</span> Illustrated by Howard +Chandler Christy.</p> + +<p>A pretty American girl in London is touring in a car with a chauffeur whose +identity puzzles her. An amusing mystery.</p> + +<p><span class='ul'>THE STOWAWAY GIRL.</span> Illustrated by Nesbitt Benson.</p> + +<p>A shipwreck, a lovely girl stowaway, a rascally captain, a fascinating +officer, and thrilling adventures in South Seas.</p> + +<p><span class='ul'>THE CAPTAIN OF THE KANSAS.</span></p> + +<p>Love and the salt sea, a helpless ship whirled into the hands of cannibals, +desperate fighting and a tender romance.</p> + +<p><span class='ul'>THE MESSAGE.</span> Illustrated by Joseph Cummings +Chase.</p> + +<p>A bit of parchment found in the figurehead of an old vessel tells of a buried +treasure. A thrilling mystery develops.</p> + +<p><span class='ul'>THE PILLAR OF LIGHT.</span></p> + +<p>The pillar thus designated was a lighthouse, and the author tells with +exciting detail the terrible dilemma of its cut-off inhabitants.</p> + +<p><span class='ul'>THE WHEEL O’FORTUNE.</span> With illustrations by James +Montgomery Flagg.</p> + +<p>The story deals with the finding of a papyrus containing the particulars of +some of the treasures of the Queen of Sheba.</p> + +<p><span class='ul'>A SON OF THE IMMORTALS.</span> Illustrated by Howard +Chandler Christy.</p> + +<p>A young American is proclaimed king of a little Balkan Kingdom, and a pretty +Parisian art student is the power behind the throne.</p> + +<p><span class='ul'>THE WINGS OF THE MORNING.</span></p> + +<p>A sort of Robinson Crusoe <i>redivivus</i> with modern setting and a very +pretty love story added. The hero and heroine are the only survivors of a wreck, +and have many thrilling adventures en their desert island.</p> + +<p class='c'><i>Ask for a complete free list of G. & D. Popular Copyrighted +Fiction</i><br /> +<span class='sc'>Grosset & Dunlap, 526 West 26</span>th <span class='sc'>St., New York</span></p> + +<hr class='pb' /> + +<p class='c fs14 mb00'>B. M. Bower’s Novels</p> +<p class='c fs12 mt00 mb10'>Thrilling Western Romances</p> +<p class='c fs08 mb20'>Large 12 mos. Handsomely bound in cloth. Illustrated</p> + +<p><span class='ul'>CHIP, OF THE FLYING U</span></p> + +<p>A breezy wholesome tale, wherein the love affairs of Chip and Della Whitman +are charmingly and humorously told. Chip’s jealousy of Dr. Cecil Grantham, +who turns out to be a big, blue eyed young woman is very amusing. A clever, +realistic story of the American Cow-puncher.</p> + +<p><span class='ul'>THE HAPPY FAMILY</span></p> + +<p>A lively and amusing story, dealing with the adventures of eighteen jovial, +big hearted Montana cowboys. Foremost amongst them, we find Ananias Green, known +as Andy, whose imaginative powers cause many lively and exciting adventures.</p> + +<p><span class='ul'>HER PRAIRIE KNIGHT</span></p> + +<p>A realistic story of the plains, describing a gay party of Easterners who +exchange a cottage at Newport for the rough homeliness of a Montana ranch-house. +The merry-hearted cowboys, the fascinating Beatrice, and the effusive Sir +Redmond, become living, breathing personalities.</p> + +<p><span class='ul'>THE RANGE DWELLERS</span></p> + +<p>Here are everyday, genuine cowboys, just as they really exist. Spirited +action, a range feud between two families, and a Romeo and Juliet courtship make +this a bright, jolly, entertaining story, without a dull page.</p> + +<p><span class='ul'>THE LURE OF DIM TRAILS</span></p> + +<p>A vivid portrayal of the experience of an Eastern author, among the cowboys +of the West, in search of “local color” for a new novel. +“Bud” Thurston learns many a lesson while following “the lure +of the dim trails” but the hardest, and probably the most welcome, is that +of love.</p> + +<p><span class='ul'>THE LONESOME TRAIL</span></p> + +<p>“Weary” Davidson leaves the ranch for Portland, where +conventional city life palls on him. A little branch of sage brush, pungent with +the atmosphere of the prairie, and the recollection of a pair of large brown +eyes soon compel his return. A wholesome love story.</p> + +<p><span class='ul'>THE LONG SHADOW</span></p> + +<p>A vigorous Western story, sparkling with the free, outdoor, life a mountain +ranch. Its scenes shift rapidly and its actors play the game of life fearlessly +and like men. It is a fine love story from start to finish.</p> + +<p class='c'><i>Ask for a complete free list of G. & D. Popular Copyrighted +Fiction</i><br /> +<span class='sc'>Grosset & Dunlap, 526 West 26</span>th <span class='sc'>St., New York</span></p> + +<hr class='pb' /> + +<p class='c fs12 mb00'>NOVELS OF SOUTHERN LIFE</p> +<p class='c fs14 mt00 mb10'>By THOMAS DIXON, JR.</p> +<p class='c fs08 mb20'>May be had wherever books are sold. Ask for Grosset & +Dunlap’s list</p> + +<p><span class='ul'>THE LEOPARD’S SPOTS:</span> A Story of the White +Man’s Burden, 1865-1900. With illustrations by C. D. Williams.</p> + +<p>A tale of the South about the dramatic events of Destruction, Reconstruction +and Upbuilding. The work is able and eloquent and the verifiable events of +history are followed closely in the development of a story full of struggle.</p> + +<p><span class='ul'>THE CLANSMAN.</span> With illustrations by Arthur I. +Keller.</p> + +<p>While not connected with it in any way, this is a companion volume to the +author’s “epoch-making” story <i>The Leopard’s +Spots</i>. It is a novel with a great deal to it, and which very properly is +going to interest many thousands of readers. * * * It is, first of all, a +forceful, dramatic, absorbing love story, with a sequence of events so +surprising that one is prepared for the fact that much of it is founded on +actual happenings; but Mr. Dixon has, as before, a deeper purpose–he has +aimed to show that the original formers of the Ku Klux Klan were modern knights +errant taking the only means at hand to right intolerable wrongs.</p> + +<p><span class='ul'>THE TRAITOR.</span> A Story of the Fall of the Invisible +Empire. Illustrations by C. D. Williams.</p> + +<p>The third and last book in this remarkable trilogy of novels relating to +Southern Reconstruction. It is a thrilling story of love, adventure, treason, +and the United States Secret Service dealing with the decline and fall of the Ku +Klux Klan.</p> + +<p><span class='ul'>COMRADES.</span> Illustrations by C. D. Williams.</p> + +<p>A novel dealing with the establishment of a Socialistic Colony upon a +deserted island off the coast of California. The way of disillusionment is the +course over which Mr. Dixon conducts the reader.</p> + +<p><span class='ul'>THE ONE WOMAN.</span> A Story of Modern Utopia.</p> + +<p>A love story and character study of three strong men and two fascinating +women. In swift, unified, and dramatic action, we see Socialism a deadly force, +in the hour of the eclipse of Faith, destroying the home life and weakening the +fiber of Anglo Saxon manhood.</p> + +<p class='c'><i>Ask for a complete free list of G. & D. Popular Copyrighted +Fiction</i><br /> +<span class='sc'>Grosset & Dunlap, 526 West 26</span>th <span class='sc'>St., New York</span></p> + + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's Mistress Nell, by George C. Hazelton, Jr. + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MISTRESS NELL *** + +***** This file should be named 31370-h.htm or 31370-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/3/1/3/7/31370/ + +Produced by Roger Frank and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + +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. 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