His Majesty's Well-Beloved Part 31

Lies! Lies! I knew that every Word which she spoke was nothing but a Lie. My G.o.d! if only I could have unriddled her Purpose! If only I could 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 very Innermost of my Soul-was that the Lady Barbara Wychwoode had come here to-night in order to trick Mr. Betterton, and to turn his Love for her to Advantage for my Lord Stour. How carefully she had thought out the Part which she meant to play; how completely she meant to have him at her Mercy, only in order to mock and deride him in the End, I had yet to learn.

Even now she completed his Undoing, the Addling of his n.o.ble Mind, by casting Looks of shy Coquetry upon him. What Man is there who could have resisted them? What Man, who was himself so deeply infatuated as was Mr. Betterton, could believe that there was Trickery in those Glances? He sat down at his Desk, as she had desired him to do, and drew Pen, Ink and Paper closer to his Hand.

"An you asked my Life," he said simply, "I would gladly give it to prove my Love for You." Then, as she remained silent and meditative, he added: "What is your Ladys.h.i.+p's wish?"

"Oh!" she replied, "'tis a small matter ... It concerns the Earl of Stour ... We were Friends ... once ... Playmates when we were Children ... That Friends.h.i.+p ripened into a-a-Semblance of Love. No! No!" she went on rapidly, seeing that at her Words he had made a swift Movement, leaning towards her. "I pray you, listen. That Semblance of Love may have gone ... but Friends.h.i.+p still abides. My Lord Stour, the Playmate of my Childhood, is in sore trouble ... I, his Friend, would wish to help him, and cannot do this without your Aid. Will You-will You grant me this Aid, Sir," she queried shyly, "if I beg it of You?"

"Your Ladys.h.i.+p has but to command," he answered vaguely, for, in truth, his whole Mind was absorbed in the contemplation of her Loveliness.

"'Twas You," she a.s.serted boldly, "who begged for his Lords.h.i.+p's pardon from the Countess of Castlemaine ... 'Twas not he who betrayed his Friends. 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 in connection with those Eyes, with that Smile, seemed almost a Sacrilege.

And my poor Friend was so desperately infatuated just then! Has any Man ever realized that Woman is fooling him, when she really sets her Wiles to entrap him? Surely not a Man of Mr. Betterton's keen, artistic and hot-blooded Temperament. I saw it all now, yet I dared not move. For one thing, the time had gone by when I might have done it with good Effect. Now it was too late. Any interference on my part would only have led to Ignominy for myself and the severance of a Friends.h.i.+p that I valued more than Life itself. Betwixt a Friend's warning and a Woman's Cajolery, what Man would hesitate? What could I, in any event, have done now, save to hold up the inevitable Catastrophe for a few Moments-a few Seconds, perhaps? Truly, my hour was past. I could but wait now in Silence and Misery until the End.

There she sat, pleading, speaking that eternal Phrase, which since the beginning of primeval times hath been used by wily Woman for the undoing of 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 pa.s.sionate fervour. "But will you not let me tell you first--"

"No!-No!" she said quickly, clasping her delicate hands. "I pray You-not just yet. I-I so long to see You write ... there ... at this Desk, where lie piled letters from every ill.u.s.trious Person and every crowned Head in Europe. And now You will write," she entreated, in the tone of an indulged and wayward Child. "You will? Just one little Doc.u.ment 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 demure Gesture, a drawing back of her whole Figure, restrained him.

"No! No!" she reiterated firmly. "When you have written, I will listen--"-another Glance, and he was vanquished. Then she completed her 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 vivid Picture before me. The Ma.s.sive Desk, littered with papers, the Candles flickering in their Sconces, illumining with their elusive Light the Figure of the great Actor, sitting with shoulders slightly bent forward, one Arm resting upon the Desk, half buried in the filmy folds of her Ladys.h.i.+p's Veil, his Face upturned towards the Enchantress, who held him at this Hour an absolute Slave to her Will. She had risen from her Chair and stood immediately behind him; her Face I could not see, for her back was towards me, but the light caught the loose Tendrils of her fair Hair, and from where I stood watching, this looked just like a golden Aureole around her small Head, bent slightly towards him. She too was leaning forward, over him, with her Hand extended, giving him Directions 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 Message addressed to the Court of White Hall. Not in Poetry," she added, with a nervous little Laugh; "but in Prose, so that all may understand."

He bent to his task and began to write, and she straightened out her elegant 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 enemy is the cold. But a fire! ... on such a glorious Evening. The first Kiss of awakening Spring."

She had reached the Window now, and stood for awhile in the Bay, leaning against the Mullion; and I could not help but admire her Duplicity and her Pluck. For, indeed, She had risked Everything that Woman holds most dear, for the sake of the Man she loved. And She could not help but know that She herself and her fair Name would anon be at the mercy of a Man whom her Cajoleries and her Trickery would have rendered desperate.

Anon, as if quite overcome by the Heat, she threw open the Cas.e.m.e.nt, and then leaned out, peering into the Darkness beyond. Ensconced in my Corner at some distance from the Window, I was conscious of the Movement and subdued Noise which came up from the still crowded Park. A number of People appeared to be moving out there, and even as I strained my Ears to listen, I caught the sweet sound of the selfsame Song of awhile ago, 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 had strolled out into the Park at this hour, drawn thither by the amorous Melodies sung by the unknown Minstrel; or by the balmy Air of Spring; or merely by the pa.s.sing Whim of some new Fas.h.i.+on or Fancy. I even strained my Ears so that I might recognise the sound of Voices that were familiar to me. I heard my Lord of Rochester's characteristic Laugh, Sir William Davenant's dictatorial tones and the high-pitched Cackle of Mr. Killigrew.

So doth our Mind oft dwell on trivial Thoughts at times of gravest Stress. Her Ladys.h.i.+p had sat down on a low Stool beside the Window. I could only see the vague outline of her-the Expression of her Face, the very Poise of her Head, were wrapt in the surrounding Gloom.

For awhile there was perfect Silence in the Room, save for the monotonous 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 lay down his Pen, then raise the Paper and read through very carefully all that he had written, and finally strew Sand upon the momentous Doc.u.ment.

For awhile after that he remained perfectly still, and I observed his clear-cut Face, with Eyes fixed as it were inwards into his own Soul, and sensitive Lips pressed tightly one against the other. The Hand which held the Doc.u.ment was perfectly steady, an obedient slave to his Will. And yet that Sign-manual, as directed by her Ladys.h.i.+p, was a direct Avowal of a dastardly Deed, of the gratuitous Slandering of an innocent Man's Honour, without Provocation or Justification, seeing that no mention was made in the Confession of the abominable Outrage which had brought about this grim Retaliation, or of the Refusal on the part of his Lords.h.i.+p to grant the Satisfaction that is customary between Gentlemen. It was, in fact, his own Integrity and his own Honour that the eminent Actor was even now bartering for a Woman's Love. This will prove to You, dear Mistress, that Mr. Betterton's Love for the Lady Barbara Wychwoode did not at any time resemble true Affection, which, of all the Pa.s.sions to which the human Heart is apt to become Slave, is the one that leads the Mind to the highest and n.o.blest Thoughts; whereas an Infatuation can only be compared to a Fever. Man hath no more control over the one than he hath over the other, and cannot curb its Violence or the Duration of its Attack.

4

The next thing that I remember most clearly is seeing Mr. Betterton put the fateful Paper down again, take up her Ladys.h.i.+p's Veil and bury his Face in its cloudy Folds. I heard him murmur faintly, after awhile:

"Now, if I dared, I would believe myself almost happy!"

Then he rose, picked up the Paper, and with it went up to the Lady Barbara.

"'Tis done, as you did command," he said quite quietly, and placed the Doc.u.ment in her Hand. She took it from him and rose to her Feet.

"A Light, I pray You," she said coldly.

He brought one of the Candles across and stood beside her, holding it aloft. She read the Paper through with great Deliberation, nodding Approval from time to time as she did so. Then she folded it into a very small Compa.s.s, while she thanked him coldly and guardedly. He then went back to the Desk with the Candle and put it down. During these few Seconds, whilst his back was turned to her, I noticed that the Lady Barbara took a heavy, jewelled Brooch from her Gown and fastened it by its pin to the Doc.u.ment. Her movements were methodical but very quick, and my own Mind worked too slowly to guess at her Intention.

The next moment, Mr. Betterton was once more by her side. Eager, alert, and with the glow of Triumph in his Eyes, he flung himself at her Feet.

She was his now!-his by Right of Conquest! He had won her by measureless Self-Sacrifice, and now he meant to hold the Guerdon for which he had paid so heavy a Price.

"Because you deigned to cross this humble Threshold," he said, and his arms encircled her Waist with the masterful and pa.s.sionate Gesture of a Victor, "the poor Actor places his Name and Fame, his Pride and baffled Revenge, at your feet."

"At the World's Feet, Sir Mountebank!" she cried exultantly, and with a swift movement she flung the weighted Paper far out through the Window.

Then, leaning out into the Darkness, she called at the top of her Voice: "To me, Adela! Here is the Message from Mr. Betterton. Take it to my Lord Sidbury at once!"

But Mr. Betterton was no longer in a mental State to care what happened after this; I doubt if he realized just what was impending. He was still on his Knees, holding on to her with both Arms.

"Nay!" he said wildly. "That is as You please. Let the whole World think me base and abject. What care I for Honour, Fame or Integrity now that You are here, and that You will be my Wife?"