His Majesty's Well-Beloved

  As I entered the Room, the tower clock of Westminster was just strikingseven. The deep bay Window which gave on a solitary corner of St.James's Park, was wide open, and through it there came from afar, waftedupon the evening breeze, the strains of a masculine Voice, warm andmellow, singing to the accompaniment of one of those stringedInstruments which have been imported of late from Italy.

  The Voice rose and fell in pleasing Cadences, and some of the Words ofthe Song reached mine Ear.

  "You are my Life. You ask me why? Because my hope is in your love."

  Whether Mr. Betterton heard them or not, I could not say. He sat thereso still, his slender Hands--white and tapering, the veritable Hands ofan Artist--rested listlessly upon the arms of his chair.

  "Through gloomy Clouds to sunlit Skies, To rest in Faith and your dear Eyes."

  So sang the sweet Minstrel out there in the fast gathering Gloom. Iwent up to the window and gazed out into the open Vista before me. Faraway I could see the twinkling lights from the windows of St. James'sPalace, and on my right those of White Hall. The Singer I could notsee. He appeared to be some distance away. But despite the lateness ofthe hour, the Park was still alive with people. And indeed as I leanedmy Head further out of the Window, I was struck by the animatedspectacle which it presented.

  No doubt that the unwonted mildness of this early spring evening hadinduced young Maids and Gallants, as well as more sober Folk andGentlemen, to linger out in the open. The charm of the Minstrel and hisSong, too, must have served as an additional Attraction, for as Iwatched the People passing to and fro, I heard snatches of Conversation,mostly in praise of the Singer or of the Weather.

  Anon I espied Sir William Davenant walking with Mr. Killigrew, and myLord of Rochester dallying with a pretty Damsel; one or two moreGentlemen did I recognize as I gazed on the moving Sight, until suddenlyI saw that which caused me to draw my Head back quickly from the Windowand to gaze with added Anxiety on the listless Figure of my Friend.

  What I had seen down below had indeed filled my Heart with Dread. Itwas the Figure of my Lord Stour. I could have sworn to it, even thoughhis Lordship was wrapped in a mantle from Head to Foot and wore abroad-rimmed Hat, both of which would indeed have disguised his Personcompletely before all Eyes save those of Love, of Hate, or of an abidingFriendship.

  What was my Lord Stour doing at this Hour, and in disguise, beneath theWindow of his bitterest Foe? My Anxiety was further quickened by theCertainty which I had that neither he nor the Lady Barbara would allowMr. Betterton's Schemes to mature without another Struggle. Even as Ionce more thrust my Head out of the Window, in order to catch anotherglimpse of the moody and solitary Figure which I had guessed to be LordStour, methought that close by the nearest Shrubbery I espied the Figureof the Lady Barbara, in close conversation with her Attendant. BothWomen were wrapped in dark Mantles and wore thick veils to cover theirHair.

  A dark presentiment of Evil now took possession of my Soul. I felt likea Watch-dog scenting Danger from afar. The Man whom I loved better thanany other on Earth was in peril of his Life, at the hands of an Enemydriven mad by an impending Doom--of that I felt suddenly absolutelyconvinced. And somehow, I felt equally convinced at the moment thatwe--I, the poor, insignificant Clerk, as well as my illustriousFriend--were standing on the Brink of an overwhelming Catastrophe.

  I had thought to warn him then and there, yet dared not do so in so manywords. Men in the prime of Life and the plentitude of their mentalPowers are wont to turn contemptuous and obstinate if told to be ontheir guard against a lurking Enemy. And I feared that, in his uttercontempt for his Foe, Mr. Betterton might be tempted to do somethingthat was both unconsidered and perilous.

  So I contented myself for the nonce with turning to my Friend, seeingthat he had wakened from his reverie and was regarding me with that lookof Confidence and Kindliness which always warmed my heart when I wasconscious of it, I merely remarked quite casually:

  "The Park is still gay with Ladies and Gallants. 'Tis strange at thislate hour. But a Minstrel is discoursing sweet Music somewhere in thedistance. Mayhap people have assembled in order to listen to him."

  And, as if to confirm my Supposition, a merry peal of laughter cameringing right across the Park, and we heard as it were the hum andmurmur of Pedestrians moving about. And through it all the echo of theamorous Ditty still lingering upon the evening air:

  "For you are Love--and I am yours!"

  "Close that window, John," Mr. Betterton said, with an impatient littlesigh. "I am in no mood for sentimental Ballads."

  I did as he desired, and whilst in the act of closing the Window, I saidguardedly:

  "I caught sight of my Lord Stour just now, pacing the open Ground justbeneath this Window. He appeared moody and solitary, and was wrappedfrom head to foot in a big Mantle, as if he wished to avoidRecognition."

  "I too am moody and solitary, good Honeywood," was Mr. Betterton's solecomment on my remark. Then he added, with a slight shiver of his wholebody: "I prithee, see to the Fire. I am perished with the cold."

  I went up to the Hearth and kicked the dying embers into a Blaze; thenfound some logs and threw them on the Fire.

  "The evening is warm, Sir," I said; "and you complained of the Heatawhile ago."

  "Yes," he rejoined wearily. "My head is on fire and my Spine feels likeice."

  It was quite dark in the Room now, save for the flickering and ruddyfirelight. So I went out and bade the Servant give me the candles. Icame back with them myself and set them on the Desk. As I did so, Iglanced at Mr. Betterton. He had once more taken up his listlessAttitude; his Head was leaning against the back of his Chair, and Icould not fail to note how pallid his Face looked and how drawn, andthere was a frown between his Brows which denoted wearying and absorbingThoughts. Wishing to distract him from his brooding Melancholy, Ithought of reminding him of certain artistic and social Duties whichwere awaiting his Attention.

  "Will you send an Answer, Sir," I asked him with well-assumedindifference, "to the Chancellor? It is on the Subject of the BenefitPerformance in aid of the Indigent Poor of the City of Westminster. HisLordship again sent a messenger this afternoon."

  "Yes!" Mr. Betterton replied readily enough, and sought amongst hisPapers for a Letter which he had apparently written some time during theDay. "If His Lordship's Messenger calls again, let him have this Note.I must arrange for the Benefit Performance, of course. But I doubt ifmany members of the Company will care to give their Services."

  "I think that Mr. Robert Noakes would be willing," I suggested. "AlsoMr. Lilleston."

  "Perhaps, perhaps!" he broke in listlessly. "But we must have Actressestoo, and they----"

  He shrugged his shoulders, and I rejoined with great alacrity:

  "Oh! I feel sure that Mistress Saunderson would be ready to join in anybenevolent Scheme for the betterment of the Poor."

  "Ah! but she is an Angel!" Mr. Betterton exclaimed. And, believe me,dear Mistress, that those words came as if involuntarily to his Lips,out of the Fulness of his Heart. And even when he had spoken, a Look ofinfinite Sadness swept over his Face and he rested his Head against hisHand, shading his Eyes from the light of the Candles, lest I should readthe Thoughts that were mirrored therein.

  "There came a messenger, too, this afternoon," I reminded him, "fromParis, with an autograph Letter from His Majesty the King of France."

  "Yes!" he replied, and nodded his Head, I thought, uncomprehendingly.

  "Also a letter from the University of Stockholm. They propose that Youshould visit the City in the course of the Summer and----"

  "Yes, yes! I know!" he rejoined impatiently. "I will attend to it allanother time ... But not to-night, good Honeywood," he went on almostappealingly, like a Man wearied with many Tasks. "My mind is like asqueezed Orange to-night."

  Then he held out his Hand to me--that beautiful, slender Hand of his,which I had so often kissed in the excess of my Gratitude--and addedwith g
entle Indulgence:

  "Let me be to-night, good Friend. Leave me to myself. I am such poorCompany and am best alone."

  I took his hand. It was burning hot, as if with inward Fever. All myFriendship for him, all my Love, was at once on the alert, dreading theravages of some inward Disease, brought on mayhap by so much Soul-worry.

  "I do not relish leaving You alone to-night," I said, with moregruffness than I am wont to display. "This room is easy of Access fromthe Park."

  He smiled, a trifle sadly.

  "Dost think," he asked, with a slight shrug of the shoulders, "that apoor Mountebank would tempt a midnight Robber?"

  "No!" I replied firmly. "But my Lord Stour, wrapped to the eyes in hisMantle, hath prowled beneath these Windows for an hour." Then, as hemade no comment, I continued with some Fervour: "A determined Man, whohates Another, can easily climb up to a first floor Window----"

  "Tush, friend!" he broke in sharply. "I am not afraid of his Lordship... I am afraid of nothing to-night, my good Honeywood," he addedsoftly, "except of myself."

  4

  You certainly will not wonder, dear Mistress, that after that I did notobey his Commands to leave him to himself. I am nothing of anEavesdropper, God knows, nor yet would I pry into the Secrets of theSoul of the one Man whom I reverence above all others. But, even as Iturned reluctantly away from him in order to go back to my Room, Iresolved that, unless he actually shut the Door in my Face, I wouldcircumvent him and would remain on the watch, like a faithful Dog whoscents Danger for his Master. In this I did not feel that I was doingany Wrong. God saw in my Heart and knew that my Purpose was innocent.I thank Him on my Knees in that He strengthened me in my Resolve. Butfor that Resolve, I should not have been cognizant of all the details ofthose Events which culminated in such a dramatic Climax that night, andI would not have been able to speak with Authority when placing all theFacts before You. Let me tell You at once that I was there, in Mr.Betterton's Room, during the whole of the time that the Incidentoccurred which I am now about to relate.

  He had remained sitting at his Desk, and I went across the Room in thedirection of the communicating Door which gave on my own Study. But Idid not go through that Door. I just opened and shut it noisily, andthen slipped stealthily behind the tall oaken Dresser, which stands in adark Angle of the Room. From this point of Vantage I could watchclosely and ceaselessly, and at the slightest Suspicion of immediateDanger to my Friend I would be free to slip out of my Hiding-place andto render him what Assistance he required. I had to squat there in acramped Position, and I felt half suffocated with the closeness of theAtmosphere behind so heavy a Piece of Furniture; but this I did notmind. From where I was I could command a view of Mr. Betterton at hisDesk, and of the Window, which I wished now that I had taken thePrecaution to bar and bolt ere I retired to my Corner behind theDresser.

  For awhile, everything was silent in the Room; only the great Clockticked loudly in its case, and now and again the blazing logs gave anintermittent Crackle. I just could see the outline of Mr. Betterton'sShoulder and Arm silhouetted against the candle light. He sat forward,his elbow resting upon the Desk, his Head leaning against his Hand, andso still that presently I fell to thinking that he must have dropped tosleep.

  But suddenly he gave that quick, impatient Sigh of his, which I hadlearned to know so well, pushed back his chair, and rose to his Feet.Whereupon, he began pacing up and down the Room, in truth like somepoor, perturbed Spirit that is denied the Solace of Rest.

  Then he began to murmur to himself. I know that mood of his and believeit to be peculiar to the artistic Temperament, which, when it feelsitself untrammelled by the Presence of Others, gives vent to itsinnermost Thoughts in mumbled Words.

  From time to time I caught Snatches of what he said--wild Words for themost part, which showed the Perturbation of his Spirit. He, whose Mindwas always well-ordered, whose noble Calling had taught him toco-ordinate his Thoughts and to subdue them to his Will, was nowmurmuring incoherent Phrases, disjointed Sentences that would havepuzzled me had I not known the real Trend of his Mood.

  "Barbara!..." he said at one time. "Beautiful, exquisite, innocent LadyBabs; the one pure Crystal in that Laboratory of moral Decomposition,the Court of White Hall...." Then he paused, struck his Forehead withhis Hand, and added with a certain fierce Contempt: "But she will yield... she is ready now to yield. She will cast aside her Pride, and throwherself into the arms of a Man whom she hates, all for the sake of thatyoung Coxcomb, who is not worthy to kiss the Sole of her Shoe!"

  Again he paused, flung himself back into his Chair, and once more buriedhis Face in his Hands.

  "Oh, Woman, Woman!" I could hear him murmuring. "What an Enigma! Howcan the mere Man attempt to understand thee?"

  Then he laughed. Oh! I could not bear the sound of that laugh: therewas naught but Bitterness in it. And he said slowly muttering betweenhis Teeth:

  "The Philosopher alone knows that Women are like Melons: it is onlyafter having tasted them that one knows if they are good."

  Of course, he said a great deal more during the course of that dreary,restless hour, which seemed to me like a Slice out of Eternity. HisRestlessness was intense. Every now and then he would jump up and walkup and down, up and down, until his every Footstep had its counterpartin the violent beatings of my Heart. Then he would fling himself into aChair and rest his Head against the Cushions, closing his Eyes as if hewere in bodily Pain, or else beat his Forehead with his Fists.

  Of course he thought himself unobserved, for Mr. Betterton is, as Youknow, a Man of great mental Reserve. Not even before me--his faithfuland devoted Friend--would he wittingly have displayed such overmasteringEmotion. To say that an equally overwhelming Sorrow filled my Heartwould be but to give You, dear Mistress, a feeble Statement of what Ireally felt. To see a Man of Mr. Betterton's mental and physical Powersso utterly crushed by an insane Passion was indeed heartrending. Had henot everything at his Feet that any Man could wish for?--Fame, Honours,the Respect and Admiration of all those who mattered in the World.Women adored him, Men vied with one another to render him the sincerestFlattery by striving to imitate his Gestures, his Mode of Speech, thevery Cut of his Clothes. And, above all--aye, I dare assert it, andYou, beloved Mistress will, I know, forgive me--above all, he had theLove of a pure and good Woman, of a talented Artist--yours, dearLady--an inestimable Boon, for which many a Man would thank his Maker onhis Knees.

  Ah! he was blind then, had been blind since that fatal Hour when theLady Barbara Wychwoode crossed his Path. I could endorse the wild Wordswhich he had spoken to her this forenoon. A thousand devils were indeedunchained within him; but 'tis not to her Kiss that they would yield,but rather to the gentle Ministration of exquisite Mistress Saunderson.

  CHAPTER XV

  MORE DEAF THAN ADDERS

  1

  I felt so cramped and numb in my narrow hiding-place that I verilybelieve I must have fallen into a kind of trance-like Slumber.

  From this I was suddenly awakened by the loud Clang of our front-doorBell, followed immediately by the Footsteps of the Serving Man upon theLanding, and then by a brief Colloquy between him and the belatedVisitor.

  Seriously, at the moment I had no Conception of who this might be, untilI glanced at Mr. Betterton. And then I guessed. Guessed, just as he hadalready done. Every line of his tense and expectant Attitude betrayedthe Fact that he had recognized the Voice upon the Landing, and that itssound had thrilled his very Soul and brought him back from the Land ofDreams and Nightmare, where he had been wandering this past hour.

  You remember, dear Lady, the last time Mr. Betterton played in a Tragedycalled "Hamlett," wherein there is a Play within a Play, and themelancholy Prince of Denmark sets a troupe of Actors to enact aRepresentation of the terrible Crime whereof he accuses both his Uncleand his Mother? It is a Scene which, when pla
yed by Mr. Betterton, iswont to hold the Audience enthralled. He plays his Part in it by lyingfull length on the Ground, his Body propped up by his Elbow and his Chinsupported in his Hand. His Eyes--those wonderful, expressive Eyes ofhis--he keeps fixed upon the guilty Pair: his Mother and his Uncle. Hewatches the play of every Emotion upon their faces--Fear, Anger, andthen the slowly creeping, enveloping Remorse; and his rigid, sternFeatures express an Intensity of Alertness and of Expectancy, which isso poignant as to be almost painful.

  Just such an Expression did my dear Friend's Face wear at this Moment.He had pushed his Chair back slightly, so that I had a fuller view ofhim, and the flickering light of the wax Candles illumined his clear-cutFeatures and his Eyes, fixed tensely upon the door.

  2

  The next moment the serving Man threw open the door and the Lady Barbarawalked in. I could not see her until she had advanced further into themiddle of the Room. Then I beheld her in all her Loveliness. Nay!I'll not deny it. She was still incomparably beautiful, with, inaddition, that marvellous air of Breeding and of Delicacy, whichrendered her peerless amongst her kind. I hated her for the infinitewrong which she had done to my Friend, but I could not fail to admireher. Her Mantle was thrown back from her Shoulders and a dark, filmyVeil, resembling a Cloud, enveloped her fair Hair. Beneath her Mantleshe wore a Dress of something grey that shimmered like Steel in theCandlelight. A few tendrils of her ardent Hair had escaped from beneathher Veil, and they made a kind of golden Halo around her Face. She wasvery pale, but of that transparent, delicate Pallor that betokensEmotion rather than ill-health, and her Eyes looked to me to be as darkas Sloes, even though I knew them to be blue.