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 Ladyship. 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 shining 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, sturdy 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 noble 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.
"You are not going to play me false, Honeywood," he said simply.
That I swore I would not do. Indeed, he knew well enough that if he commanded me to go to the outermost ends of the Earth on his errand, or to hold parley with the Devil on his behalf, I would have been eager and ready to do it.
But I must confess that at this moment I would sooner have parleyed with the Devil than with the Earl of Stour. The Man whom I had denounced, You understand. I felt that the shadow of Death—conjured by me, menacing and unevasive—would perhaps lie 'twixt him and me whilst I spoke with him. Yet how could I demur when my Friend besought me?—my Friend, who was gravely troubled because of me.
I promised that I would do as he wished. Whereupon he gave me full instructions. Never had so strange a task been put upon a simple-minded Plebeian: for these were matters pertaining to Gentlemen. I knew less than nothing of Duels, Affairs of Honour, or such like; yet here was I—John Honeywood, an humble Attorney's Clerk—sent to convey a challenge for a Duel to a high and noble Lord, in the manner most approved by Tradition.
I was ready to swoon with Fright; for, in truth, I am naught but a timid Rustic. In spite of the cold and the rain I felt a rush of hot blood coursing up and down my Spine. But I learned my Lesson from end to end, and having mastered it, I did not waver.
Leaving Mr. Betterton under the shelter of the gateway, I boldly crossed the fore-court and mounted the couple of steps which led up to the front door of the Mansion. The fore-court and the front of the House were very dark, and I was not a little afraid of Night Prowlers, who, they do say, haunt the immediate Purlieus of these stately Abodes of the Nobility, ready to fall upon any belated Visitor who might be foolish enough to venture out alone.
Indeed, everything around me was so still and seemed so desolate that an Access of Fear seized me, whilst I vainly tried to grope for the bell-handle in the Darkness. I very nearly gave way to my Cowardice then and there, and would have run back to my Friend or called out to the Linkmen for their Company, only that at the very moment my Hand came in contact with the iron bell pull, and fastened itself instinctively upon it.
Whereupon the clang of the Bell broke the solemn Silence which reigned around.
3
I had grave Difficulty in obtaining access to my Lord Stour, his Servant telling me in the first instance that his Lordship was not at home, and in the second that he was in any event too busy to receive Visitors at this hour. But I have oft been told that I possess the Obstinacy of the Weak, and I was determined that, having come so far, I would not return to Mr. Betterton without having accomplished mine Errand. So, seeing that the Servant, with the Officiousness and Insolence of his kind, was about to slam the door in my face, an Inspiration seized me, and taking on a haughty Air, I stepped boldly across the Threshold and then commanded the Menial to go to his Lordship at once and announce the visit of Mr. Theophilus Baggs' Clerk on a matter of the utmost Urgency.
I suppose that now I looked both determined and fierce, and after a good deal of hem-ming and hawing, the Varlet apparently felt that non-compliance with my Desire might bring contumely upon himself; so he went, leaving me most unceremoniously to cool my heels in the Hall, and returned but a very few minutes later looking distinctly crestfallen and not a little astonished.
His Lordship would see me at once, he announced. Then bade me follow him up the stairs.
To say that my Heart was beating furiously within my Breast would be but a bald Statement of my Frame of Mind. I fully expected that his Lordship, directly he knew that it was not Mr. Baggs who had sent me, would have me ignominiously turned out of the House. However, I was not given much time to indulge in my Conjectures and my Fears, for presently I was ushered into a large room, dimly lighted by a couple of wax candles and the Walls of which, I noticed, were entirely lined with Books.
After the Menial had closed the door behind me, a Voice bade me curtly to come forward and to state mine Errand. Then I saw that my Lord Stour was not alone. He was sitting in a chair in front of the fire, and opposite to him sat the beautiful Lady Barbara, whilst standing in front of the hearth, with legs apart and hands thrust in the pockets of his breeches, was Lord Douglas Wychwoode.
What Courage was left in me now went down into my shoes. I felt like a Man faced with three Enemies where he had only expected to meet one. My Throat felt very dry and my Tongue seemed to cleave to my Palate. Nevertheless, in response to a reiterated curt Command to state mine Errand, I did so unfalteringly.
"Mr. Thomas Betterton, one of His Majesty's Well-Beloved Servants," I said, "hath sent me to his Lordship the Earl of Stour."
My Words were greeted with an angry Oath from Lord Douglas, an ironical Laugh from my Lord Stour and a strange little Gasp, half of Terror, wholly of Surprise, from the Lady Barbara.
"Methought You came from Mr. Baggs," my Lord Stour remarked haughtily. "So at least You gave my Servant to understand, else You would not have been admitted."
"Your Lordship's Servant misunderstood me," I rejoined quite quietly. "I gave my name as Clerk to Mr. Baggs; but mine Errand concerns Mr. Thomas Betterton, and he honours me with his Friendship."
"And as Mr. Betterton's Affairs do not concern me in any way——" his Lordship began coldly, and would no doubt have dismissed me then and there, but that the Lady Barbara interposed gently yet with great Firmness.
"I pray You, my Lord," she said, "do not be over-hasty. We might at least listen to what Mr. Betterton's Messenger has to say."
"Yes," added Lord Douglas in his habitual brusque Manner. "Let us hear what the Fellow wants."
This was not encouraging, you will admit; but, like many over-timid People, there are times when I am conscious of unwonted Calm and Determination. So even now I confronted these two supercilious Gentlemen with as much Dignity as I could command, and said, addressing myself directly to the Earl of Stour:
"Mr. Betterton hath sent me to You, my Lord, to demand Satisfaction for the abominable Outrage which You perpetrated upon his Person nigh on two months ago."
Lord Stour shrugged his Shoulders and riposted coldly:
"That tune is stale, my Man. Mr.—er—Betterton has had mine Answer."
"Since then, my Lord," I insisted firmly, "Time hath no doubt brought saner Reflection. Mr. Betterton's Fame and his Genius have raised him to a level far above that conferred by mere Birth."
"Have made a Gentleman of him, You mean?" Lord Stour rejoined with a sarcastic curl of the lip.
"More noble far than any Gentleman in the Land," I retorted proudly.
He gave a harsh laugh.
"In that case, my Man," he said tartly, "you can inform your worthy Friend that two hundred years hence my Descendants might fight him on a comparatively equal Footing. But until then," he added firmly and conclusively, "I must repeat for the last time what I have already told Mr.—er—Betterton: the Earl of Stour cannot cross Swords with a Mountebank."
"Take care, my Lord, take care——"
The Exclamation had burst quite involuntarily from my Lips. The next moment I felt ashamed to have uttered it, for my Lord Stour looked me up and down as he would an importunate Menial, and Lord Douglas Wychwoode strode towards me and pointed to the door.
"Get out!" he commanded curtly.
There was nothing more to be done—nothing more to be said, if I desired to retain one last Shred of Dignity both for myself and for the great Artist who—in my Person this time—had once again been so profoundly humiliated.
My wet cloak I had left down in the Hall, but I still held my hat in my hands. I now bowed with as much Grace as I could muster. Lord Douglas still pointed a peremptory finger towards the door, making it clear that I was not going of mine own Accord, like the Intermediary of any Gentleman might be, but that I was being kicked out like some insolent Varlet.
Oh! the shame of it! The shame!
My ears were tingling, my temples throbbing. A crimson Veil, thrust before mine eyes by invisible Hands, caused my footsteps to falter. Oh! if only I had had the strength, I should even then have turned upon those aristocratic Miscreants and, with my hands upon their throats, have forced them to eat their impious Words.
But even as I crossed the Threshold of that Room where I had suffered such bitter Humiliation, I heard loud and mocking Laughter behind me; and words such as: "Insolence!" "Mountebank!" "Rogue!" and "Vagabond!" still reached my ears.
I suppose that the door did not close quite fully behind me, for even as I crossed the landing meseemed that I heard the Lady Barbara's voice raised in a kind of terrified Appeal.
"Would to God, my dear Lord," she appeared to plead with passionate Earnestness, "You had not incurred the Enmity of that Man. Ever since that awful day I have felt as if You were encompassed by Spirits of Hate and of Vengeance which threaten our Happiness."
Her Voice broke in a sob. And, indeed, I found it in my heart to pity her, for she seemed deeply grieved. I still could hear him—her Lover and mine Enemy, since he was the Enemy of my Friend—trying to laugh away her fears.
"Nay, sweetheart," he was saying tenderly. "A Man like that can do us no harm. Mine own Conscience is clear—my Life honourable—and to-night will see the triumph of your Cause, to which I have given willing help. That Man's Malice cannot touch me, any more than the snarling of a toothless cur. So do not waste these precious moments, my Beloved, by thinking of him."
After which the door behind me was closed to, and I heard nothing more. I hurried down the Stairs, snatched up my cloak and hurried out of the House.
Never should I have believed that a human Heart could contain so much Hatred as mine held for my Lord Stour at that moment.
4
I found Mr. Betterton waiting for me under the Gateway where I had left him a quarter of an hour ago.
As soon as he heard my footsteps upon the uneven pavement of the fore-court, he came forward to meet me, took hold of my cloak and dragged me back into shelter.
He only said the one word: "Well?" but it is not in my power, dear Mistress, to render adequately all that there was of Anxiety, Impatience and of Passion in that one brief Query.
I suppose that I hesitated. Of a truth the Message which I was bringing was choking me. And he who is so sensitive, so understanding, learned everything, and at once, from my Silence.
"He hath refused?" he said simply.
I nodded.
"He will not fight me?"
And my Silence gave reply. A curious, hoarse Cry, like that of a wounded Animal, escaped his Throat and for a moment we were both silent—so silent that the patter of the rain appeared like some thunderous Noise: and the divers sounds of the great City wrapped in the Cloak of Evening came to us with sharp and eerie Distinctness. Far away, a dog barked; some belated Chairman called: "Make room, there!"; a couple of Watchmen passed close by, clinking their halberts against the ground, and from one of the noble Mansions nigh to us there came the sound of Revelry and of Laughter.
I felt like in a Dream, conscious only that the Finger of Destiny was pointing to the Dial of a Clock, and that I was set here to count the Seconds and the Minutes until that ghostly Finger had completed its task and registered the final Hour when the Decrees of God would inevitably be fulfilled.