CHAPTER IV
_Flowers and Music feed naught but Love._
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 Spanishdancing-girl, a new arrival from Madrid and one of the latestattractions of the King's House; but it was his pride, when hediscovered that Nell's sharp eyes had found him out, that suffered, nothis conscience. Was he not the fascinating actor-manager of the House?Could he prevent the ladies loving him? Must he be accused of not lovingNell, simply because his charms had edified the shapely new-comer?Nell's rebuke had depressed him, but there was a smouldering firewithin. "'Slife!" he muttered. "If I do not steal my way into Nell'sheart, I'll abandon the rouge-box and till the soil."
As he approached his tiring-room, he bethought him that it would be wellfirst to have an oversight of the theatre. He turned accordingly andpulled open the door that led to the stage.
As he did so, a figure fell into the greenroom, grasping devotedly aviolin, lest his fall might injure it. Strings had been biding his time,waiting an opportunity to see Nell, and had fallen asleep behind thedoor.
"How now, dog!" exclaimed the manager when he saw who the intruder was.
Strings hastened to his feet and hobbled across the room.
"I told you not to set foot here again," shouted Hart, following himvirulently.
Strings bowed meekly. "I thought the King's House in need of a player;so I came back, sir," said he.
Hart was instantly beside himself. "Zounds!" he stormed. "I have hadenough impudence to contend with to-night. Begone; or up you go for avagrant."
"I called on Mistress Gwyn, sir," explained Strings.
"Mistress Gwyn does not receive drunkards," fiercely retorted Hart; andhe started hastily to the stage-door and called loudly for his force ofmen to put the fiddler out.
Nell's door was still ajar. She had removed the roses from her hair anddress. She caught at once her name. Indeed, there was little that wenton which Nell did not see or hear, even though walls intervened. "Whotakes my name in vain?" she called. Her head popped through the openingleft by the door, and she scanned the room.
As her eye fell upon the old fiddler, who had often played songs anddances for her in days gone by, a cry of joy came from her lips. Sherushed into the greenroom and threw both arms about Strings's neck. "Myold comrade, as I live," she cried, dancing about him. "I am joyed tosee you, Strings!"
Turning, she saw the manager eying them with fiery glances. She knew thesituation and the feeling. "Jack, is it not good to have Strings back?"she asked, sweetly.
Hart's face grew livid with anger. He could see the merry devil dancingin her eye and on her tongue. He knew the hoyden well. "Gad, I willresign management." He turned on his heel, entered his tiring-room andclosed the door, none too gently. He feared to tarry longer, lest hemight say too much.
Nell broke into a merry laugh; and the fiddler chuckled.
"You desert me these days, Strings," she said, as she leaned against thetable and fondly eyed the wayfarer of the tattered garments andconvivial spirits.
"I don't love your lackey-in-waiting, Mistress Nell," said he, with awink in the direction of the departed manager.
"Poor Jack. Never mind him," she said, with a roguish laugh, though withno touch of malice in it, for there was devil without malice in Nell'ssoul.
As she again sought the eyes of the fiddler, her face grew thoughtful.She spoke--hesitated--and then spoke again, as if the thought gave herpain. "Have you kept your word to me, Strings, and stopped--drinking?"she asked. The last word fell faintly, tremblingly, from herlips--almost inaudibly.
"Mistress Nell, I--I--" Strings's eyes fell quickly.
Nell's arm was lovingly about him in an instant. "There, there; don'ttell me, Strings. Try again, and come and see me often." There was adelicacy in her voice and way more beautiful than the finest acting. Thewords had hurt her more than him. She changed her manner in an instant.
Not so with Strings. The tears were in his eyes. "Mistress Nell, you areso good to me," he said; "and I am such a wretch."
"So you are, Strings," and she laughed merrily.
"I have taught my little ones at home who it is that keeps the wolf fromour door," he continued.
"Not a word of that!" she exclaimed, reprovingly. "Poor old fellow!" Hereyes grew big and bright as she reflected on the days she had visitedthe fiddler's home and on the happiness her gifts had brought hischildren. For her, giving was better than receiving. The feeling sprangfrom the fulness of her own joy at seeing those about her happy, and notfrom the teachings of priests or prelates. Dame Nature was her solepreceptor in this.
"I'll bring the babes another sugar plum to-morrow. I haven't a farthingto-night. Moll ran away with the earnings, and there is no one left torob," she said.
"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 wouldat least add cheerfulness to the room where Strings lived until shecould bring something better.
As she looked at the roses, she began to realize how dear they werebecoming to herself, for they were the King's gift; and her heart beatquickly and she touched the great red petals lovingly with her lips.
Strings took the flowers awkwardly; and, as he did so, something fellupon the floor. He knelt and picked it up, in his eagerness letting theroses fall.
"A ring among the flowers, Mistress Nell," he cried.
"A ring!" she exclaimed, taking the jewel quickly. Her lips pressed thesetting. "Bless his heart! A ring from his finger," she continued halfaloud. "Is it not handsome, Strings?" Her eyes sparkled brightly andthere was a triumphant smile upon her lips.
The fiddler's face, however, was grave; his eyes were on the floor.
"How many have rings like that, while others starve," he mused,seriously.
Nell held the jewel at arm's length and watched its varying brightnessin 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 ownway-of-the-world philosophizing. "Bless the giver!" she added, in a moodof rhapsody.
She turned, only again to observe the 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 tooshould not be so.
"It will not feed my little ones, Mistress Nell," he answered, sadly.
Nell's heart was touched in an instant. "Too true!" she said,sympathetically, falling on her knee and lovingly gathering up theroses. "Flowers and Music feed naught but Love, and often then Love goeshungry--very hungry." Her voice was so sweet and tender that it seemedas though the old viol had caught the notes.
"Last night, Mistress Nell," said Strings, "the old fiddle played itssweetest melody for them, but they cried as if their tiny hearts wouldbreak. They were starving, and I had nothing but music for them."
"Starving!" Nell listened to the word as though at first she did notrealize its meaning. "What can I send?" she cried, looking about in vainand into her tiring-room.
Her eyes fell suddenly upon the rich jewel upon her finger. "No, no; Icannot think of that," she thought.
Then the word "starving" came back to her again with all its force."Starving!" Her imagination pictured all its horrors. "Starving" seemedwritten on every wall and on the ceiling. It pierced her heart andbrain. "Yes, I will," she exclaimed, wildly. "Here, Strings, old fellow,take the ring to the babes, to cut their teeth on."
Strings stood aghast. "No, Mistress Nell; it is a present. You mustnot," he protested.
"There are others where that came from," generously laughed Nell.
"You must not; you are too kind," he continued, firmly.
NELL PREVENTS A QUARREL.]"Pooh, pooh! I insist," said Nell as she forced the jewel upon him. "Itwill make a pretty mouthful; and, besides, I do not want my jewels toou
tshine me."
Strings would have followed her and insisted upon her taking back thebeautiful gift, but Nell was gone in an instant and her door closed.
"To cut their teeth on!" he repeated as he placed the jewelled ringwonderingly upon his bow-finger and watched it sparkle and laugh in thelight as he pretended to play a tune. "She is always joking like that;Heaven reward her."
He stood lost in the realization of sudden affluence.
Buckingham entered the room from the stage-door. His eyes were full ofexcitement. "The audience are wild over Nell, simply wild," he exclaimedin his enthusiasm, unconscious of the fact that he had an auditor, whowas equally oblivious of his lordship's presence. "Gad," he continued,rapturously, half aloud, half to himself, "when they are stumbling homethrough London fog, the great _comedienne_ will be playing o'er thelove-scenes with Buckingham in a cosy corner of an inn. She will notdare deny my bid to supper, with all her impudence. _Un petitsouper!_" He broke into a laugh. "Tis well Old Rowley was too engagedto look twice at Nelly's eyes," he thought. "His Majesty shall nevermeet the wench at arm's length, an I can help it."
He observed or rather became aware for the first time that there wasanother occupant of the room.
"Ah, sirrah," he called, without noting the character of his companion,"inform Mistress Nell, Buckingham is waiting."
Strings looked up. He seemed to have grown a foot in contemplation ofhis sudden wealth. Indeed, each particular tatter on his back seemed tohave assumed an independent air.
"Inform her yourself!" he declared; and his manner might well havebecome the dress of Buckingham. "Lord Strings is not your lackey thisseason."
Buckingham gazed at him in astonishment, followed by amusement. "LordStrings!" he observed. "Lord Rags!"
Strings approached his lordship with a familiar, princely air. "How doesthat look on my bow-finger, my lord?" and he flourished his hand wearingthe ring where Buckingham could well observe it.
His lordship started. "The King's ring!" he would have exclaimed, hadnot the diplomat in his nature restrained him. "A fine stone!" he saidmerely. "How came you by it?"
"Nell gave it to me," Strings answered.
Buckingham nearly revealed himself in his astonishment. "Nell!" hemuttered; and his face grew black as he wondered if his Majesty hadout-generalled him. "Damme," he observed aloud, inspecting the ringclosely, "I have taken a fancy to this gem."
"So have I," ejaculated Strings, as he avoided his lordship and struttedacross the room.
"I'll give you fifty guineas for it," said Buckingham, following himmore eagerly than the driver of a good bargain is wont.
Strings stood nonplussed. "Fifty guineas!" he exclaimed, aghast. Thiswas more money than the fiddler had ever thought existed. "Now?" heasked, wonderingly.
"Now," replied his lordship, who proceeded at once to produce theglittering coins and toss them temptingly before the fiddler's eyes.
"Oons, Nell surely meant me to sell it," he cried as he eagerly seizedthe 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 thedexterity of a juggler.
Buckingham grew impatient. He desired a delivery. "Give me the ring," hedemanded.
Strings looked once more at the glittering gold; and visions of theplenty which it insured to his little home, to say nothing of a flagonor two of good brown ale which could be had by himself and his booncomrades without disparagement to the dinners of the little ones, camebefore him. If he had ever possessed moral courage, it was gone upon theinstant. "Done!" he exclaimed. "Oons, fifty guineas!" and he handed thering to Buckingham.
The fiddler was still absorbed in his possessions, whispering again andagain to the round bits of yellow: "My little bright-eyes will not go tobed hungry to-night!" when Manager Hart entered proudly from histiring-room, dressed to leave the theatre.
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.
"'Sdeath, you still here?" said Hart, sharply, as his eyes fell upon thefiddler.
Strings straightened up and puffed with the pomposity and pride of alanded proprietor. He shook his newly acquired possessions until theclinking of the gold was plainly audible to the manager.
"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 talland dignified manager of the theatre who easily overtopped him by ahead.
"Gold!" exclaimed Hart, as he observed the glitter of the guineas in thecandle-light. His eyes turned quickly and suspiciously upon the lordlyBuckingham.
There was nothing, however, in his lordship's face to indicate that hewas aware even of the existence of the fiddler or of his gold. He sat bythe table, leaning carelessly upon it, his face filled with anexpression of supreme satisfaction. He had the attitude of one who waswaiting for somebody or something and confidently expected not to bedisappointed.
"Sup with me, Hart," continued Strings, with the air of a boon comrade."Sup with me--venison, capons, and--Epsom water."
"Thank you, I am engaged to supper," replied Hart, contemptuously,brushing his cloak where it had been touched by the fiddler, as if hisfingers had contaminated it.
The insult clearly observable in the manager's tone, however, had noeffect whatever upon Strings. He tossed his head proudly and saidindifferently: "Oh, very well. Strings will sup with Strings. My coach,my coach, I say. Drive me to my bonnie babes!"
He pushed open the door with a lordly air and passed out; and, for someseconds, they heard a mingling of repeated demands for the coach and astrain of music which sounded like "Away dull care; prythee away fromme."
Buckingham had observed the fiddler's tilt with the manager and theroyal exit of the ragged fellow with much amusement. "A merry wag! Whois that?" he asked, as Strings's voice grew faint in the entry-way.
Hart was strutting actor-fashion before the mirror, arranging his curlsto hang gracefully over his forehead and tilting now and again the bigplumed hat. "A knave of fortune, it seems," he answered coolly and stillsuspiciously.
"Family?" asked Buckingham, indifferently.
"Twins, I warrant," replied Hart, in an irritated tone.
Buckingham chuckled softly.
"No wonder he's tattered and gray," he declared, humorouslyphilosophizing upon Hart's reply, though it was evident that Harthimself was too much chafed by the presence of his lordship in thegreenroom after the play to know what he really had said.
An ominous coolness now pervaded the atmosphere. Buckingham sat by thetable, impatiently tapping the floor with his boot, his eyes growingdark at the delay. Hart still plumed himself before the mirror. Hisdress was rich; his sword was well balanced, a Damascus blade; his cloakhung 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, andhe felt it, while his companion, whose faults of nature were none theless glaring than his own, was almost the equal of a king.
There was a tap at Nell's door. It was the call-boy, who had slippedunobserved into the room.
"What is it, Dick?" asked Nell, sweetly, as she opened the door slightlyto inspect her visitor.
"A message,--very important," whispered Dick, softly, as he passed anote within.
"Thank you," replied the actress; and the door closed again.
Dick was about to depart, when the alert Buckingham, rising hastily fromhis seat, called him.
"That was Nell's voice?" he asked.
"Yes, my lord. She's dressing," answered Dick. "Good night, MasterHart," he added, as he saw the manager.
Hart, however, was not in a good humour and turned sharply upon him.Dick vanished.
"She will be out shortly, my lord," the manager observed to Buckingham,somewhat coldly. "But it will do you little good," he thought, as herefle
cted upon his conversation with Nell.
Buckingham leaned lazily over the back of a chair and repliedconfidently, knowing that his speech would be no balm to the iratemanager: "Nell always keeps her engagements religiously with me. We areto sup together to-night, Hart."
"Odso!" retorted the other, drawing himself up to his full height. "Youwill be disappointed, methinks."
"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 istied to other apron-strings." His lordship chuckled as he bethought himhow cleverly he had managed that his Majesty be under the properinfluence. "What danger else?" he inquired, cuttingly.
Though the words were mild, the feelings of the two men were atwhite-heat.
"Your lordship's hours are too valuable to waste," politely suggestedthe manager. "I happen to know Mistress Gwyn sups with anotherto-night."
"Another?" sneered his lordship.
"Another!" hotly repeated the actor.
"We shall see, friend Hart," said Buckingham, in a tone no lessagreeable, with difficulty restraining his feelings.
He threw himself impatiently into a big arm-chair, which he had swungaround angrily, so that its back was to the manager.
The insult was more than Hart could bear. He also seized a chair, andvented his vengeance upon it. Almost hurled from its place, it fell backto back with Buckingham's.
"We shall see, my lord," he said as he likewise angrily took his seatand folded his arms.
It was like "The Schism" of Vibert.
It is difficult to tell what would have been the result, had the placebeen different. Each knew that Nell was just beyond her door; eachhesitated; and each, with bitterness in his heart, held on to himself.They sat like sphinxes.
Suddenly, Nell's door slightly opened. She was dressed to leave thetheatre. In her hand she held a note.
"A fair message, on my honour! Worth reading twice or even thrice," sheroguishly exclaimed unto her maid as she directed her to hold a candlenearer that she might once again spell out its words. "'To England'sidol, the divine Eleanor Gwyn.' A holy apt beginning, by the mass! 'Mycoach awaits you at the stage-door. We will toast you to-night atWhitehall.'"
Nell's eyes seemed to drink in the words, and it was her heart whichsaid: "Long live his Majesty."
She took the King's roses in her arms; the Duke's roses, she tossed uponthe floor.
The manager awoke as from a trance. "You will not believe me," he saidto Buckingham, confidently. "Here comes the arbiter of your woes, mylord." He arose quickly.
"It will not be hard, methinks, sir, to decide between a coronet and aplayer's tinsel crown," observed his princely rival, with a sneer, as hetoo arose and assumed an attitude of waiting.
"Have a care, my lord. I may forget--" Hart's fingers played upon hissword-hilt.
"Your occupation, sir?" jeered Buckingham.
"Aye; my former occupation of a soldier"; and Hart's sword sprang fromits scabbard, with a dexterity that proved that he had not forgotten thetrick of war.
Buckingham too would have drawn, but a merry voice stayed him.
"How now, gentlemen?" sprang from Nell's rosy lips, as she came betweenthem, a picture of roguish beauty.
Hart's pose in an instant was that of apology. "Pardon, Nell," heexclaimed, lifting his hat and bowing in courtly fashion. "A smalldifference of opinion; naught else."
"Between friends," replied Nell, reprovingly.
"By the Gods," cried Buckingham,--and his hat too was in the air and hisknee too was bent before the theatre-queen,--"the rewards are worth morethan word-combats."
"Pshaw!" said Nell, as she hugged the King's roses tighter in her arms."True Englishmen fight shoulder to shoulder, not face to face."
"In this case," replied his lordship, with the air of a conqueror, "thebooty cannot be amicably distributed."
"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?"
"The fairest maid in England," said Hart, with all the earnestness ofconviction, and with all the courtesy of the theatre, which teachescourtesy.
"The dearest girl in all this world," said Buckingham as quickly; for hetoo must bow if he would win.
"How stupid!" lisped Nell, with a look of baby-innocence. "You must meanme! Who else could answer the description? A quarrel over poor me! Thisis delicious. I love a fight. Out with your swords and to't like men! Tothe victor! Come, name the quarrel."
"This player--" began his lordship, hotly. He caught the quick gleam inNell's eyes and hesitated. "I mean," he substituted, apologetically,"Master Hart--labours under the misapprehension that you sup with himto-night."
"Nell," asserted the manager, defensively, "it is his lordship whosuffers from the delusion that the first actress of England sups withhim to-night."
"My arm and coach are yours, madame," pleaded his lordship, as hegallantly offered an arm.
"Pardon, my lord; Nell, my arm!" said Hart.
"Heyday!" cried the witch, bewitchingly. "Was ever maid so noblysquired? This is an embarrassment of riches." She looked longingly atthe two attending gallants. There was something in her voice that mightbe mockery or that might be love. Only the devil in her eyes could tell.
"Gentlemen, you tear my heart-strings," she continued. "How can I choosebetween such loves? To-night, I sup at Whitehall!" and she dartedquickly toward the door.
"Whitehall!" the rivals cried, aghast.
"Aye, Whitehall--_with the King_!"
There was a wild, hilarious laugh, and she was gone.
MISTRESS NELL IS TOLD OF THE KING'S DANGER.]Buckingham and Hart stood looking into each other's face. They heard thesound of coach-wheels rapidly departing in the street.