His Majesty's Well-Beloved Part 8

I watched the turbulent throng, filing now in orderly procession through the hospitably open doors of the _Spread Eagle_ tavern. Mr. Betterton remained for awhile standing at the door, marshalling the more obstreperous of his invited Guests and parleying with Mr. Barraclough, the Host of the _Spread Eagle_-no doubt making arrangements for the quenching of three or four hundred thirsts at his expense. Then he suddenly turned on his heel and came up the Street. Lord Douglas gave one of his rough, grating laughs, and said:

"So now I see that, like a wise man, Mr. Betterton mistrusts his Popularity and proposes to seek refuge from his ebullient Friends."

"I believe," said Mistress Euphrosine to her Lord in an awed whisper; "I believe that Thomas is coming here."

Which possibility greatly disconcerted Mr. Baggs. He became quite agitated, and exclaimed fussily:

"I'll not have him here ... I'll not ... Not while her Ladys.h.i.+p is here ... I'll not allow it!"

"And pray why not, Mr. Notary?" Lady Barbara put in haughtily. "Mr.

Betterton sups twice a week with His Majesty. Surely then you may invite him without shame under your roof!"

"And I've never seen the great Actor close to," remarked Lord Stour lightly. "I've oft marvelled what he was like in private life."

"Oh!" said Lord Douglas, with a distinct note of acerbity in his voice, "he is just like any other Fellow of his degree. These Mountebanks have of late thought themselves Somebodies, just because 'tis the fas.h.i.+on for Gentlemen to write plays and to go to the Theatre. My Lord Rochester, Sir George Etherege and the others have so spoilt them by going about constantly with them, that the Fellows scarce know their place now.

This man Betterton is the worst of the lot. He makes love to the Ladies of the Court, forgets that he is naught but a Rogue and a Vagabond and not worthy to be seen in the company of Gentlemen. Oh! I've oft had an itching to lay a stick across the shoulders of some of these louts!"

I would that I could convey to you, dear Mistress, the tone of Spite wherewith Lord Douglas spoke at this moment, or the look of Contempt which for the moment quite disfigured his good-looking Face. That he had been made aware at some time of Mr. Betterton's admiration for Lady Barbara became at once apparent to me, also that he looked upon that admiration as a Presumption and an Insult.

I was confirmed in this Supposition by the look which he gave then and there to his Sister, a look which caused her to blush to the very roots of her hair. I fancy, too, that he also whispered something on that Subject to my Lord Stour, for a dark frown of Anger suddenly appeared upon the latter's Face and he muttered an angry and rough e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.i.o.n.

As for me, I am an humble Clerk, a peaceful Citizen and a practising Christian; but just at that moment I felt that I hated Lord Douglas Wychwoode and his Friend with a bitter and undying hatred.

5

Meseemed as if the air within the room had become surcharged with a subtle and heady fluid akin to an Intoxicant, so many Pa.s.sions were even then warring in the innermost hearts of us all. There was Hatred and Spite, and Fervour and Love. We were all of us alive at that moment, if You know what I mean. We were Individuals who felt and thought individually and strongly; not just the mere sheeplike Creatures swayed hither and thither by the Modes and Exigencies of the hour. And I can a.s.sure you that even then, when we heard Mr. Betterton's quick step ascending the stairs, we all held our breath and watched the door as if something Supernatural was about to be revealed to us.

The next moment that door was thrown open and Mr. Betterton appeared upon the threshold.

Ah! if only You had seen him then, Mistress, your heart would have rejoiced, just as mine did, at the sight. Personally, I could never tell You if Mr. Betterton is tall or short, handsome or ill-favoured; all that I know is that when he is in a room you cannot look at any one else; he seems to dwarf every other Man by the Picturesqueness of his Personality.

And now-oh! You should have seen him as he stood there, framed in the doorway, the grey afternoon light of this dull September day falling full upon his Face, with those glittering Eyes of his and the kindly, firm Mouth, round which there slowly began to spread a gently mocking Smile. He was richly dressed, as was his wont, with priceless lace frills at throat and wrists, and his huge Periwig set off to perfection the n.o.bility of his brow.

With one swift gaze round the room, he had taken in the full Situation.

You know yourself, dear Mistress, what marvellous Powers of Intuition he has. His glance swept over Lady Barbara's exquisite comeliness, her somewhat flurried mien and wide, inquisitive eyes; over Lord Douglas, sullen and contemptuous; my Lord Stour, wrathful and suspicious; Mistress Euphrosine and Mr. Baggs, servile and tremulous. I doubt not that his keen Eyes had also spied me watching his every Movement from behind the screen.

The mocking Smile broadened upon his Face. With one shapely leg extended forward, his right arm holding his hat, his arm executing a superb flourish, he swept to the a.s.sembled Company an elaborate Bow.

"My Lords, your servant," he said. Then bowed more gravely to Lady Barbara and added, with a tone of subtle and flattering deference: "I am, as always, your Ladys.h.i.+p's most humble and most devoted Slave."

Whereupon her Ladys.h.i.+p swept him one of those graceful Curtsies which I understand have become the Mode in fas.h.i.+onable Society of late. But the young Gentlemen seemed to have lost count of their Manners. They were either too wrathful or too much taken aback to speak. Mistress Euphrosine, with her nose in the air, was preparing to sail majestically out of the room.

Mr. Betterton then stepped in. He threw down his hat and playfully made pretence to intercept Mistress Euphrosine.

"Sister, I do entreat You," he said with mock concern, "do not carry your well-shaped nose so high. The scent of Heaven will not reach your nostrils, try how you may.... 'Tis more likely that you will smell the brimstone which clings to my perruque."

And before Mistress Euphrosine had time to think of a retort, he had turned to her Ladys.h.i.+p with that gentle air of deference which became him so well.

"How comes it," he asked, "that I have the privilege of meeting your Ladys.h.i.+p here?"

"A mere accident, Sir," my Lord Stour interposed, somewhat high-handedly I thought. "Her Ladys.h.i.+p, fearing to be molested by the Crowd, came to meet Lord Douglas here."

"I understand," murmured Mr. Betterton. And I who knew him so well, realized that just for the moment he understood nothing save that he was in the presence of this exquisitely beautiful Woman who had enchained his Fancy. He stood like one transfixed, his eyes fastened almost in wonderment upon the graceful Apparition before him. I should not be exaggerating, fair Mistress, if I said that he seemed literally to be drinking in every line of her dainty Figure; the straight, white throat, the damask cheek and soft, fair hair, slightly disarranged. He had of a truth lost consciousness of his surroundings, and this to such an extent that it apparently set my Lord Stour's nerves on edge; for anon he said with evident Irritation and a total Disregard both of polite Usage and of Truth, since of course he knew quite well to whom he was speaking:

"I did not catch your name, Sir; though you seem acquainted with her Ladys.h.i.+p."

He had to repeat the Query twice, and with haughty impatience, before Mr. Betterton descended from the Clouds in order to reply.

"My name is Betterton, Sir," he said, no less curtly than my lord.

"Betterton? Ah, yes!" his Lords.h.i.+p went on, with what I thought was studied Insolence, seeing that he was addressing one of the most famous Men in England. "I have heard the Name before ... but where, I cannot remember.... Let me see, you are...?"

"An Actor, Sir," Mr. Betterton gave haughty answer. "Therefore an Artist, even though an humble one; but still a World contained in one Man."

Then his manner changed, the stiffness and pride went out of it and he added in his more habitual mode of good-natured banter, whilst pointing in the direction of Mistress Euphrosine:

"That, however, is not, I imagine, the opinion which my worthy Sister-a pious Lady, Sir-hath of my talents. She only concedes me a Soul when she gloats over the idea that it shall be d.a.m.ned."

"You are insolent!" quoth Mistress Euphrosine, as she stalked majestically to the door. "And I'll not stay longer to hear you blaspheme."

Even so, her Brother's lightly mocking ripple of Laughter pursued her along the course of her dignified exit through the door.

"Nay, dear Sister," he said. "Why not stay and tell these n.o.ble Gentlemen your doubts as to which half of me in the hereafter will be stoking the Fires of h.e.l.l and which half be wriggling in the Flames?"

Then he added, turning gaily once more to the Visitors as Mistress Euphrosine finally departed and banged the door to behind her: "Mistress Baggs, Sir, is much troubled that she cannot quite make up her mind how much of me is Devil and how much a lost Soul."

"Of a surety, Sir," retorted Lord Douglas, with the same tone of malicious Spite wherewith he had originally spoken of Mr. Betterton, "every Gentleman is bound to share your worthy Sister's doubts on that point ... and as to whether your right Hand or your sharp Tongue will fizzle first down below."

There was a moment's silence in the room-oh! the mere fraction of a second-whilst I, who knew every line of Mr. Betterton's face, saw the quick flash of Anger which darted from his eyes at the insolent speech.

Lady Barbara too had made an instinctive movement, whether towards him in protection or towards her Brother in reproach, I could not say.

Certain it is that that Movement chased away in one instant Mr.

Betterton's flaming wrath. He shrugged his shoulders and retorted with quiet Mockery:

"Your Lords.h.i.+p, I feel sure, will be able to have those doubts set at rest presently. I understand that vast intelligence will be granted to Gentlemen down there."

At once my Lord's hand went to his sword.

"Insolent!-" he muttered; and my Lord Stour immediately stepped to his Friend's side.

Like the Fleet Street crowd awhile ago, these two Gentlemen meant mischief. For some reason which was not far to seek, they were on the verge of a Quarrel with Mr. Betterton-nay! I believe that they meant to provoke him into one. In wordy Warfare, however, they did not stand much chance against the great Actor's caustic Wit, and no doubt their sense of Impotence made them all the more wrathful and quarrelsome.

Mr. Baggs, of course, servile and obsequious as was his wont, was ready enough to interpose. A Quarrel inside his house, between valued Clients and his detested Brother-in-law, was not at all to his liking.

"My Lords ..." he mumbled half-incoherently, "I implore you ... do not heed him ... he..."

His futile attempts at Conciliation tickled Mr. Betterton's sense of humour. The last vestige of his Anger vanished in a mocking Smile.