His Majesty's Well-Beloved Part 18

"She will think 'twas I who spied upon him," I heard him say quite distinctly through his clenched teeth. "I who betrayed him, her Friends, her Brother."

"He will die a Martyr to the cause she loves," he murmured a few moments later. "A Hero to his friends-to _her_ a demi-G.o.d whose Memory she will wors.h.i.+p."

Then he paused, and added in a loud and firm voice, apostrophizing, G.o.d knows what Spirits of Hate and of Vengeance whom he had summoned:

"And _that_ is to be my Revenge for the deadliest Insult Man ever put upon Man! ... Ha! ha! ha! ha!" he laughed, with weird Incontinence.

"G.o.d above us, save me from my Friends and let me deal alone with mine Enemies!"

He fell back into the nearest chair and, resting his elbows on his knees, he pressed his forehead against his clenched fists. I stared at him, mute, dumbfounded. For now I understood. I knew what I had done, knew what he desired, what he had striven for and planned all these past weary weeks. His Hopes, his Desires, I had frustrated. I, his Friend, who would have given my Life for his welfare!

I had been heart-broken before. I was doubly so now. I slid from the sofa once more on my knees and, not daring to touch him, I just remained there, sobbing and moaning in helpless Dejection and Remorse.

"What can I do?-what can I do?"

He looked at me, obviously dazed, had apparently become quite oblivious of my presence. Once more that look of tender Commiseration came into his eyes, and he said with a gently ironical smile:

"You? Poor little, feeble Mouse, who has gnawed at the Giant's prey-what can you do? ... Why, nothing. Go back to our mutual Friend, Mr. Theophilus Baggs, and tell him to make his way-and quickly too-to some obscure corner of the Country, for he also is up to the neck in that d.a.m.nable Conspiracy."

This set my mind to a fresh train of thought.

"Shall I to my Lord Stour by the same token?" I asked eagerly.

"To my Lord Stour?" he queried, with a puzzled frown. "What for?"

"To warn him," I replied. "Give him a chance of escape. I could tell him you sent me," I added tentatively.

He laughed.

"No, no, my Friend," he said drily. "We'll not quite go to that length.

Give him a chance of Escape?" he reiterated. "And tell him I sent You?

No, no! He would only look upon my supposed Magnanimity as a sign of cringing Humility, Obsequiousness and Terror of further Reprisals. No, no, my Friend; I'll not give the gay young Spark another chance of insulting me.... But let me think ... let me think ... Oh, if only I had a few days before me, instead of a mere few hours! ... And if only my Lady Castlemaine..."

He paused, and I broke in on the impulse of the moment.

"Oh, Sir! hath not the Countess of Castlemaine vowed often of late that she would grant any Favour that the great Mr. Betterton would ask of her?"

No sooner were the words out of my mouth than I regretted them. It must have been Instinct, for they seemed innocent enough at the time. My only thought in uttering them was to suggest that at Mr. Betterton's request the Traitors would be pardoned. My Lady Castlemaine in those days held the King wholly under her Domination. And I still believed that my Friend desired nothing so much at this moment than that my Lord Stour should not die a Hero's death-a Martyr to the cause which the beautiful Lady Barbara had at heart.

But since that hour, whenever I have looked back upon the Sequence of Events which followed on my impulsive Utterance, I could not help but think that Destiny had put the words into my mouth. She had need of me as her tool. What had to be, had to be. You, dear Mistress, can now judge whether Mr. Betterton is still worthy of your Love, whether he is still worthy to be taken back into your heart. For verily my words did make the turning point in the workings of his Soul. But I should never have dared to tell you all that happened, face to face, and I desired to speak of the matter impartially. Therefore I chose the medium of a pen, so that I might make You understand and, understanding, be ready to forgive.

CHAPTER IX

A LAST CHANCE

1

Of course, what happened subsequently, I can only tell for the most part from what Mr. Betterton told me himself, and also from one or two facts revealed to me by Mistress Floid.

At the moment, Mr. Betterton commended me for my Suggestion, rested his hand with all his former affectionate Manner upon my shoulder, and said quite simply:

"I thank you, friend, for reminding me of this. My Lady Castlemaine did indeed last night intimate to me that she felt ready to grant any Favour I might ask of her. Well! I will not put her Magnanimity to an over severe test. Come with me, friend Honeywood. We'll to her Ladys.h.i.+p.

There will be plenty of time after that to go and warn that worthy Mr.

Baggs and my equally worthy Sister. I should not like them to end their days upon the Scaffold. So heroic an ending doth not seem suitable to their drabby Existence, and would war with all preconceived Dramatic Values."

He then called to his man and ordered a couple of linkmen to be in readiness to guide us through the Streets, as these were far from safe for peaceful Pedestrians after dark! Then he demanded his hat and cloak, and a minute or so later he bade me follow him, and together we went out of the house.

2

It was now raining heavily, and we wrapped our Cloaks tightly round our Shoulders, speeding along as fast as we could. The streets were almost deserted and as dreary as London streets alone can be on a November evening. Only from the closed Windows of an occasional Tavern or Coffee-house did a few rays of bright light fall across the road, throwing a vivid bar of brilliance athwart our way, and turning the hundreds of Puddles into s.h.i.+ning reflections, like so many glimmering Stars.

For the rest, we were dependent on the linkmen, who walked ahead of us, swinging their Lanterns for Guidance on our path. Being somewhat timid by nature, I had noted with satisfaction that they both carried stout Cudgels, for of a truth there were many Marauders about on dark nights such as this, Footpads and Highway Robbers, not to mention those bands of young Rakes, who found pleasure in "scouring" the streets o' nights and molesting the belated Wayfarer.

Mr. Betterton, too, carried a weighted stick, and he was a Man whom clean, st.u.r.dy living had rendered both athletic and powerful. We were soon, both of us, wet to the Skin, but Mr. Betterton appeared quite oblivious of discomfort. He walked with a quick step, and I perforce had to keep up with him as best I could.

He had told me, before we started out, that he was bent for my Lady Castlemaine's House, the rear of which looks down upon the Gardens of White Hall. I knew the way thither just as well as he did. Great was my astonishment, therefore, when having reached the bottom of King Street, when we should have turned our steps northwards, Mr. Betterton suddenly ordered the linkmen to proceed through Palace Yard in the direction of Westminster Stairs.

I thought that he was suffering from a fit of absent-mindedness, which was easily understandable on account of his agitated Frame of Mind; and presently I called his attention to his mistake. He paid no heed to me, however, and continued to walk on until we were some way up Canon's Row.

Here he called to his linkmen to halt, and himself paused; then caught hold of my cloak, and dragged me under the shelter of a great gateway belonging to one of those n.o.ble Mansions which front the River. And he said to me, in a strange and peremptory Voice, hardly raised above a Whisper:

"Do You know where we are, Honeywood?"

"Yes," I said, not a little surprised at the question. "We are at the South End of Canon's Row. I know this part very well, having often--"

"Very well, then," he broke in, still in the same imperious Manner.

"You know that we are under the gateway belonging to the Town Mansion of the Earl of Stour, and that the house is some twenty yards up the fore-court."

"I know the house," I replied, "now you mention it."

"Then you will go to my Lord Stour now, Honeywood," my Friend went on.

"To warn him?" I queried eagerly, for of a truth I was struck with Admiration at this excess of Magnanimity on the part of an injured Man.

"No," Mr. Betterton replied curtly. "You will go to my Lord Stour as my Friend and Intermediary. You will tell him that I sent You, because I desire to know if he hath changed his mind, and if he is ready to give me Satisfaction for the Insult, which he put upon me nigh on two months ago."

I could not restrain a gasp of surprise.

"But--" I stammered.