For the space of one long Minute, which seemed like Eternity, these tworemained absolutely still, just looking at one another. Methought thatI could hear the very heart-beats within my breast. Then the Lady said,with a queer little catch in her Throat and somewhat hesitatingly:
"You are surprised to see me, Sir, no doubt ... but ..."
She was obviously at a loss how to begin. And Mr. Betterton, aroused nodoubt by her Voice from his absorption, rose quickly to his Feet andmade her a deep and respectful Obeisance.
"The Angels from Heaven sometimes descend to Earth," he said slowly;"yet the Earth is more worthy of their Visit than is the humble Artistof the Presence of his Muse." Then he added more artlessly: "Will Youdeign to sit?"
He drew a Chair forward for her, but She did not take it, continued tospeak with a strange, obviously forced Gaiety and in a halting Manner.
"I thank you, Sir," she said. "That is ... no ... not yet ... I like tolook about me."
She went close up to the Desk and began to finger idly the Books andPapers which lay scattered pell-mell upon it, he still gazing on her asif he had not yet realized the Actuality of her Presence. Anon shelooked inquiringly about her.
"What a charming room!" she said, with a little cry of wonder. "So newto me! I have never seen an Artist's room before."
"For weeks and months," Mr. Betterton rejoined simply, "this one hasbeen a temple, hallowed by thoughts of You. Your Presence now, hashenceforth made it a Sanctuary."
She turned full, inquiring Eyes upon him and riposted with childlikeIngenuousness:
"Yet must You wonder, Sir, at my Presence here ... alone ... and at thishour."
"In my heart," he replied, "there is such an Infinity of Happiness thatthere is no Room for Wonder."
"An Infinity of Happiness?" she said with a quaint little sigh. "Thatis what we are all striving for, is it not? The Scriptures tell us thatthis Earth is a Vale of Tears. No wonder!" she added naively, "since weare so apt to allow Happiness to pass us by."
Oh! how I wished I had the Courage then and there to reveal myself tothese Twain, to rush out of my Hiding-place and seize that wilyTemptress who, I felt sure, was here only for the undoing of a Man whomshe hated with unexampled Bitterness. Oh, why hath grudging Nature mademe weak and cowardly and diffident, when my whole Soul yearns at timesto be resourceful and bold? Believe me, dear Mistress, that my Mind andmy Will-power were absolutely torn between two Impulses--the oneprompting me to put a stop to this dangerous and purposeless Interview,this obvious Trap set to catch a great and unsuspecting Artist unawares;and the other urging me not to interfere, but rather to allow Destiny,Fate or the Will of God alone to straighten out the Web of my Friend'sLife, which had been embroiled by such Passions as were foreign to hisnoble Nature.
And now I am thankful that I allowed this latter Counsel to prevail.The Will of God did indeed shape the Destinies of Men this night fortheir Betterment and ultimate Happiness. But, for the moment, theThreads of many a Life did appear to be most hopelessly tangled: theLady Barbara Wychwoode, daughter of the Marquis of Sidbury, the fianceeof the Earl of Stour, was in the house of Tom Betterton, His Majesty'sWell-Beloved Servant, and he was passionately enamoured of her and hadvowed Vengeance against the Man she loved. As he gazed on her now therewas no Hatred in his Glance, no evil Passion disturbed the Look ofAdoration wherewith he regarded her.
"Barbara," he pleaded humbly, "be merciful to me.... For pity's sake,do not mock me with your smile! My dear, do you not see that I scarcecan believe that I live ... and that you are here? ... You! ... You!" hewent on, with passionate Earnestness. "My Divinity, whom I only dareapproach on bended Knees, whose Garment I scarce dare touch with mytrembling Lips!"
He bent the Knee and raised the long, floating End of her cloudlike Veilto his Lips. I could have sworn at that Moment that she recoiled fromhim and that she made a Gesture to snatch away the Veil, as if his veryTouch on it had been Pollution. That Gesture and the Recoil were,however, quite momentary. The next second, even whilst he rose oncemore to his Feet, she had already recovered herself.
"Hush!" she said gently, and drew herself artlessly away from hisNearness. "I want to listen.... People say that Angels wait upon Mr.Betterton when he studies his Part ... and I want to hear the flutter oftheir Wings."
"The Air vibrates with the Echo of your sweet Name," he rejoined, andhis exquisite Voice sounded mellow and vibrant as a sensitive Instrumenttouched by a Master's Hand. "Your name, which with mad longing I havebreathed morning, noon and eve. And now ... now ... I am not dreaming... You are near me! ... You, the perfect Lady Barbara ... my LadyBabs.... And you look--almost happy!"
She gave him a Look--the true Look of a Siren set to enchain the Will ofMan.
"Happy?" she queried demurely. "Nay, Sir ... puzzled, perhaps."
"Puzzled?" he echoed. "Why?"
"Wondering," she replied, "what magic is in the air that could make aWoman's Heart ... forsake one Love ... for ... for Another."
Yes! She said this, and looked on him straight between the Eyes as shespoke. Yet I knew that she lied, could have screamed the Accusation ather, so convinced was I that she was playing some subtle and treacherousGame, designed to entrap him and to deliver him helpless and broken intoher Power. But he, alas! was blinded by his Passion. He saw no Siren inher, no Falsehood in her Smile. At her Words, I saw a great Light ofHappiness illumine his Face.
"Barbara!" he pleaded. "Have pity on me, for my Reason wanders. I darenot call it back, lest this magic hour should prove to be a Dream."
He tried to take her in his Arms, but she evaded him, ran to the otherside of the Desk, laughing merrily like a Child. Once again herdelicate Fingers started to toy with the Papers scattered there.
"Oh, ho!" she exclaimed, with well-feigned astonishment. "Your desk!Why, this," she said, placing her Hand upon the neat pile before her,"must be that very Thunderbolt wherewith to-morrow you mean to crush anarrogant Enemy!"
"Barbara!" he rejoined with ever growing passion, and strove to take herHand. "Will you not let me tell You----"
"Yes, yes!" she replied archly, and quietly withdrew her Hand from hisgrasp. "You shall speak to me anon some of those Speeches of our greatPoets, which your Genius hath helped to immortalize. To hear Mr.Betterton recite will be an inestimable Privilege ... which your manyAdmirers, Sir, will envy me."
"The whole world would envy me to-night," he retorted, and gazed on herwith such Ardour that she was forced to lower her Eyes and to hide theirExpression behind the delicate Curtain of her Lashes.
I, who was the dumb Spectator of this cruel Game, saw that the LadyBarbara was feeling her way towards her Goal. There was so muchExcitement in her, such palpitating Vitality, that her very Heart-beatsseemed to find their Echo in my breast. Of course, I did not know yetwhat Game it was that she was playing. All that I knew was that it wasboth deadly and treacherous. Even now, when Mr. Betterton once moretried to approach her and she as instinctively as before recoiled beforehim, she contrived to put strange softness into her Voice, and a subtle,insidious Promise which helped to confuse his Brain.
"No--no!" she said. "Not just yet ... I pray you have pity on myBlushes. I--I still am affianced to my Lord Stour ... although..."
"You are right, my beloved," he rejoined simply. "I will be patient,even though I am standing on the Threshold of Paradise. But will Younot be merciful? I cannot see you well. Will you not take off thatVeil? ... It casts a dark shadow over your Brow."
This time she allowed him to come near her, and, quite slowly, sheunwound the Veil from round her Head. He took it from her as if it weresome hallowed Relic, too sacred to be polluted by earthly Touch. And,as her back was turned towards him, he crushed the Gossamer between hisHands and pressed its Fragrance to his Lips.
"There!" she said coolly. "'Tis done. Your magic, Sir Actor, hasconquered again."
It seemed to me that she was more self-possessed now than she had beenwhen first
she entered the Room. Indeed, her Serenity appeared to growas his waned perceptibly. She still was a little restless, wanderingaimlessly about the Room, fingering the Books, the Papers, the Works ofArt that lay everywhere about; but it seemed like the restlessness ofCuriosity rather than of Excitement. In her own Mind she felt that sheheld the Winning Hand--of this I was convinced--and that she couldafford to toy with and to befool the Man who had dared to measure hisPower against hers.
After awhile, she sat down in her Chair which he had brought forward forher, and which stood close to the Desk.
"And now, Sir," she said with cool composure, "'tis You who must humourme. I have a fancy ... now, at this moment ... and my Desire is to bethoroughly spoiled."
"Every Whim of yours," he rejoined, "is a Command to your humble Slave."
"Truly?" she queried.
"Truly."
"Then will You let me see you ... sitting at your Desk ... Pen in hand... writing something just for me?"
"All my work of late," he replied, "has been done because of You ... butI am no Poet. What I speak may have some Merit. What I write hathnone."
"Oh!" she protested with well-simulated Coquetry, "what I desire You towrite for me, Sir Actor, will have boundless Merit. It is just a coupleof Lines designed to ... to ... prove your Love for me--Oh!" she addedquickly, "I scarce dare believe in it, Sir ... I scare understood ...You remember, this morning in the Park, I was so excited, yet you askedme--to be--your Wife!"
"My Wife!" he cried, his Voice ringing with triumphant Passion. "Andyou would consent?----"
"And so I came," she riposted, evading a direct Answer, "to see if I hadbeen dreaming ... if, indeed, the great and illustrious Mr. Bettertonhad stooped to love a Woman ... and for the sake of that Love would do alittle Thing for Her."
Lies! Lies! I knew that every Word which she spoke was nothing but aLie. My God! if only I could have unriddled her Purpose! If only Icould have guessed what went on behind those marvellous Eyes of hers,deep and unfathomable as the Sea! All I knew--and this I did in the veryInnermost of my Soul--was that the Lady Barbara Wychwoode had come hereto-night in order to trick Mr. Betterton, and to turn his Love for herto Advantage for my Lord Stour. How carefully she had thought out thePart which she meant to play; how completely she meant to have him ather Mercy, only in order to mock and deride him in the End, I had yet tolearn.
Even now she completed his Undoing, the Addling of his noble Mind, bycasting Looks of shy Coquetry upon him. What Man is there who couldhave resisted them? What Man, who was himself so deeply infatuated aswas Mr. Betterton, could believe that there was Trickery in thoseGlances? He sat down at his Desk, as she had desired him to do, anddrew Pen, Ink and Paper closer to his Hand.
"An you asked my Life," he said simply, "I would gladly give it to provemy Love for You." Then, as she remained silent and meditative, headded: "What is your Ladyship's wish?"
"Oh!" she replied, "'tis a small matter ... It concerns the Earl ofStour ... We were Friends ... once ... Playmates when we were Children... That Friendship ripened into a--a--Semblance of Love. No! No!" shewent on rapidly, seeing that at her Words he had made a swift Movement,leaning towards her. "I pray you, listen. That Semblance of Love mayhave gone ... but Friendship still abides. My Lord Stour, the Playmateof my Childhood, is in sore trouble ... I, his Friend, would wish tohelp him, and cannot do this without your Aid. Will You--will You grantme this Aid, Sir," she queried shyly, "if I beg it of You?"
"Your Ladyship has but to command," he answered vaguely, for, in truth,his whole Mind was absorbed in the contemplation of her Loveliness.
"'Twas You," she asserted boldly, "who begged for his Lordship's pardonfrom the Countess of Castlemaine ... 'Twas not he who betrayed hisFriends. That is a Fact, is it not?"
"A Fact. Yes," he replied.
"Then I pray you, Sir, write that down," she pleaded, with an ingenuous,childish Gesture, "and sign it with your Name ... just to please me."
She looked like a lovely Child begging for a Toy. To think of Guile inconnection with those Eyes, with that Smile, seemed almost a Sacrilege.And my poor Friend was so desperately infatuated just then! Has any Manever realized that Woman is fooling him, when she really sets her Wilesto entrap him? Surely not a Man of Mr. Betterton's keen, artistic andhot-blooded Temperament. I saw it all now, yet I dared not move. Forone thing, the time had gone by when I might have done it with goodEffect. Now it was too late. Any interference on my part would onlyhave led to Ignominy for myself and the severance of a Friendship that Ivalued more than Life itself. Betwixt a Friend's warning and a Woman'sCajolery, what Man would hesitate? What could I, in any event, havedone now, save to hold up the inevitable Catastrophe for a fewMoments--a few Seconds, perhaps? Truly, my hour was past. I could butwait now in Silence and Misery until the End.
There she sat, pleading, speaking that eternal Phrase, which since thebeginning of primeval times hath been used by wily Woman for the undoingof a generous-minded Man.
"Will You do this, Sir--just to please me?"
"I swear to You that it shall be done," he rejoined with passionatefervour. "But will you not let me tell you first----"
"No!--No!" she said quickly, clasping her delicate hands. "I prayYou--not just yet. I--I so long to see You write ... there ... at thisDesk, where lie piled letters from every illustrious Person and everycrowned Head in Europe. And now You will write," she entreated, in thetone of an indulged and wayward Child. "You will? Just one littleDocument for me, because ... because You say You love me, and ...because ... I..."
"Barbara!" he cried in an Ecstasy of Happiness. "My Beloved!"
He was on the point of falling on his Knees, but once more a demureGesture, a drawing back of her whole Figure, restrained him.
"No! No!" she reiterated firmly. "When you have written, I willlisten----"--another Glance, and he was vanquished. Then she completedher Phrase--"to all you have to say."
He drew back with a sigh, and took up his Pen.
"As you command," he said simply, and made ready to write.
3
Even now, whene'er I close mine Eyes, I can see those twain as a vividPicture before me. The Massive Desk, littered with papers, the Candlesflickering in their Sconces, illumining with their elusive Light theFigure of the great Actor, sitting with shoulders slightly bent forward,one Arm resting upon the Desk, half buried in the filmy folds of herLadyship's Veil, his Face upturned towards the Enchantress, who held himat this Hour an absolute Slave to her Will. She had risen from herChair and stood immediately behind him; her Face I could not see, forher back was towards me, but the light caught the loose Tendrils of herfair Hair, and from where I stood watching, this looked just like agolden Aureole around her small Head, bent slightly towards him. Shetoo was leaning forward, over him, with her Hand extended, giving himDirections as to what he should write.
"Oh, I pray You," she said with an impatient little Sigh, "do not delay!I will watch You as You write. I pray You write it as a Messageaddressed to the Court of White Hall. Not in Poetry," she added, with anervous little Laugh; "but in Prose, so that all may understand."
He bent to his task and began to write, and she straightened out herelegant Figure and murmured, as if oppressed: "How hot this room is!"
Slowly, as if in Absence of Mind, She wandered towards the Window.
"I have heard it said," she remarked, "that Mr. Betterton's worst enemyis the cold. But a fire! ... on such a glorious Evening. The firstKiss of awakening Spring."
She had reached the Window now, and stood for awhile in the Bay, leaningagainst the Mullion; and I could not help but admire her Duplicity andher Pluck. For, indeed, She had risked Everything that Woman holds mostdear, for the sake of the Man she loved. And She could not help butknow that She herself and her fair Name would anon be at the mercy of aMan whom her Cajoleries and her Trickery would have rendered desperate.
Anon, as if quite ov
ercome by the Heat, she threw open the Casement, andthen leaned out, peering into the Darkness beyond. Ensconced in myCorner at some distance from the Window, I was conscious of the Movementand subdued Noise which came up from the still crowded Park. A numberof People appeared to be moving out there, and even as I strained myEars to listen, I caught the sweet sound of the selfsame Song of awhileago, wafted hither on the cool night Air:
"You are my Life! You ask me why? Because my Hope is in Your Love."
I caught myself marvelling if the Ladies and Gallants of the Court hadstrolled out into the Park at this hour, drawn thither by the amorousMelodies sung by the unknown Minstrel; or by the balmy Air of Spring; ormerely by the passing Whim of some new Fashion or Fancy. I evenstrained my Ears so that I might recognise the sound of Voices that werefamiliar to me. I heard my Lord of Rochester's characteristic Laugh,Sir William Davenant's dictatorial tones and the high-pitched Cackle ofMr. Killigrew.
So doth our Mind oft dwell on trivial Thoughts at times of gravestStress. Her Ladyship had sat down on a low Stool beside the Window. Icould only see the vague outline of her--the Expression of her Face, thevery Poise of her Head, were wrapt in the surrounding Gloom.
For awhile there was perfect Silence in the Room, save for themonotonous ticking of the old Clock and the scratching of Mr.Betterton's Pen as he wrote with a rapid and unhesitating Hand.
The Minutes sped on, and anon he had completed his Task. I saw him laydown his Pen, then raise the Paper and read through very carefully allthat he had written, and finally strew Sand upon the momentous Document.For awhile after that he remained perfectly still, and I observed hisclear-cut Face, with Eyes fixed as it were inwards into his own Soul,and sensitive Lips pressed tightly one against the other. The Handwhich held the Document was perfectly steady, an obedient slave to hisWill. And yet that Sign-manual, as directed by her Ladyship, was adirect Avowal of a dastardly Deed, of the gratuitous Slandering of aninnocent Man's Honour, without Provocation or Justification, seeing thatno mention was made in the Confession of the abominable Outrage whichhad brought about this grim Retaliation, or of the Refusal on the partof his Lordship to grant the Satisfaction that is customary betweenGentlemen. It was, in fact, his own Integrity and his own Honour thatthe eminent Actor was even now bartering for a Woman's Love. This willprove to You, dear Mistress, that Mr. Betterton's Love for the LadyBarbara Wychwoode did not at any time resemble true Affection, which, ofall the Passions to which the human Heart is apt to become Slave, is theone that leads the Mind to the highest and noblest Thoughts; whereas anInfatuation can only be compared to a Fever. Man hath no more controlover the one than he hath over the other, and cannot curb its Violenceor the Duration of its Attack.