Kitabı oku: «His Majesty's Well-Beloved», sayfa 10

But, seeing him sitting there brooding, obviously a Prey to Thoughts both deep and dark, I did not dare speak, and remained silent in the hope that, now that I was settled under his roof, an Opportunity would occur for me to tell him what weighed so heavily on my Heart.

Presently the Servant came in and brought Supper, and Mr. Betterton sat down to it, bidding me with perfect Grace and Hospitality to sit opposite to him. But we neither of us felt greatly inclined to eat. I was hungry, it is true; yet every Morsel which I conveyed to my mouth cost me an effort to swallow. This was all the more remarkable as at the moment my whole Being was revelling in the Succulence of the fare spread out before me, the Excellence of the Wine, the snowy Whiteness of the Cloths, the Beauty of Crystal and of Silver, all of which bore testimony to the fastidious Taste and the Refinement of the great Artist.

Of the great Events which were even then shaping themselves in White Hall, we did not speak. We each knew that the Other's mind was full of what might be going on even at this hour. But Mr. Betterton made not a single Reference to it, and I too, therefore, held my tongue. In fact, we spoke but little during Supper, and as I watched my dearly loved Friend toying with his food, and I myself felt as if the next mouthful would choke me, I knew his Mind was far away.

It was fixed upon White Hall and its stately Purlieus and upon the house of the Countess of Castlemaine, which overlooked the Privy Gardens, and of His Majesty the King. His senses, I knew, were strained to catch the sound of distant Murmurs, of running Footsteps, of the grinding of Arms or of pistol shots.

But not a Sound came to disturb the peaceful Silence of this comfortable Abode. The Servant came and went, bringing food, then clearing it away, pouring Wine into our glasses, setting and removing the silver Utensils.

Anon Mr. Betterton and I both started and furtively caught one another's Glance. The tower clock of Westminster was striking eleven.

"For Good or for Evil, all is over by now," Mr. Betterton said quietly. "Come, friend Honeywood; let's to bed."

I went to bed, but not to sleep. For hours I lay awake, wondering what had happened. Had the Conspirators succeeded and was His Majesty a Prisoner in their hands? or were they themselves Captives in that frowning Edifice by the Water, which had witnessed so many Deaths and such grim Tragedies, and from which the only Egress led straight to the Scaffold?

CHAPTER XI
RUMOURS AND CONJECTURES

1

Very little of what had actually occurred came to the ear of the Public. In fact, not one Man in ten in the whole of the Cities of London and Westminster knew that a couple of hours before midnight, when most simple and honest Citizens were retiring to their beds, a batch of dangerous Conspirators had been arrested even within the Precincts of White Hall.

I heard all that there was to know from Mr. Betterton, who went out early the following Morning and returned fully informed of the events of the preceding Night. Subsequently too, I gleaned a good deal of information through the instrumentality of Mistress Floid. As far as I could gather, the Conspirators did carry out their Project just as they had decided on it in my Presence. They did assemble in King Street and in the by-lanes leading out of it, keeping my Lady Castlemaine's House in sight, whilst others succeeded in Concealing themselves about the Gardens of White Hall, no doubt with the Aid of treacherous and suborned Watchmen.

The striking of the hour of ten was to be the signal for immediate and concerted Action. Those in the Gardens stood by on the watch, until after His Majesty the King had walked across from his Palace to Her Ladyship's House. His Majesty, as was his wont when supping with Lady Castlemaine, entered her house by the back door, and his Servants followed him into the house.

Then the Conspirators waited for the Hour to strike. Directly the last clang of church bells had ceased to reverberate through the humid evening air, they advanced both from the Back and the Front of the House simultaneously, when they were set upon on the one side by a Company of His Majesty's Body Guard under the Command of Major Sachvrell, who had remained concealed inside the Palace, and on the other by a Company of Halberdiers under the Command of Colonel Powick.

When the Traitors were thus confronted by loyal Troops, they tried to put up a Fight, not realizing that such measures had been taken by Major Sachvrell and Colonel Powick that they could not possibly hope to escape.

A scuffle ensued, but the Conspirators were very soon overpowered, as indeed they were greatly outnumbered. The Neighbourhood – even then slumbering peacefully – did no more than turn over in bed, marvelling perhaps if a party of Mohocks on mischief bent had come in conflict with a Posse of Night-watchmen. The Prisoners were at once marched to the Tower, despite the Rain which had once more begun to fall heavily; and during the long, wearisome Tramp through the City, their Ardour for Conspiracies and Intrigues must have cooled down considerably.

The Lieutenant of the Tower had everything ready for the Reception of such exalted Guests; for in truth my Lady Castlemaine had not allowed things to be done by halves. Incensed against her Enemies in a manner in which only an adulated and spoilt Woman can be, she was going to see to it that those who had plotted against her should be as severely dealt with as the Law permitted.

2

Later on, I had it from my friend, Mistress Floid, that the Lady Barbara Wychwoode visited the Countess of Castlemaine during the course of the morning. She arrived at her Ladyship's House dressed in black and with a Veil, as if of mourning, over her fair Hair.

Mistress Floid hath oft told me that the Interview between the two Ladies was truly pitiable, and that the Lady Barbara presented a heart-rending Spectacle. She begged and implored her Ladyship to exercise Mercy over a few young Hotheads, who had been misled into Wrong-doing by inflammatory Speeches from Agitators, these being naught but paid Agents of the Dutch Government, she averred, set to create Discontent and if possible Civil War once again in England, so that Holland might embark upon a War of Revenge with some Certainty of Success.

But the Countess of Castlemaine would not listen to the Petition at all, and proud Lady Barbara Wychwoode then flung herself at the other Woman's feet and begged and implored for Pardon for her Brother, her Lover and her Friends. Mistress Floid avers that my Lady Castlemaine did nothing but laugh at the poor Girl's pleadings, saying in a haughty, supercilious Manner:

"Beauty in tears? 'Tis a pretty sight, forsooth! But had your Friends succeeded in their damnable Plot, would You have shed tears of sympathy for Me, I wonder?"

And I could not find it in me to be astonished at my Lady Castlemaine's Spitefulness, for in truth the Lady Barbara's Friends had plotted her Disgrace and Ruin. Not only that, they had taken every opportunity of vilifying her Character and making her appear as odious in the Eyes of the People as they very well could.

You must not infer from this, dear Mistress, that I am upholding my Lady Castlemaine in any way. Her mode of life is abhorrent to me and I deeply regret her Influence over His Majesty and over the public Morals of the Court Circle, not to say of the entire Aristocracy and Gentry. I am merely noting the fact that human Nature being what it is, it is not to be wondered at that when the Lady had a Chance of hitting back, she did so with all her Might, determined to lose nothing of this stupendous Revenge.

However secret the actual Arrest of the Conspirators was kept from public Knowledge, it soon transpired that such great and noble Gentlemen as Lord Teammouth, Lord Douglas Wychwoode, the Earl of Stour, not to mention others, were in the Tower, and that a sensational Trial for Conspiracy and High Treason was pending.

Gradually the History of the Plot had leaked out, and how it had become abortive owing to an anonymous Denunciation (for so it was called). The Conspiracy became the talk of the Town. Several Ladies and Gentlemen, though not directly implicated in the Affair, but of known ultra-Protestant views, thought it best to retire to their Country Estates, ostensibly for the benefit of their Health.

Sinister Rumours were afloat that the Conspirators would be executed without Trial – had already suffered the extreme Penalty of the Law; that the Marquis of Sidbury, Father of Lord Douglas Wychwoode, had suddenly died of Grief; that Torture would be applied to the proletarian Accomplices of the noble Lords – of whom there were many – so as to extract further Information and Denunciations from them. In fact, the Town seethed with Conjectures; People talked in Whispers and dispersed at sight of any one who was known to belong to the Court Circle. The Theatres played to empty Benches, the Exchanges and Shops were deserted, for no one liked to be abroad when Arrests and Prosecutions were in the Air.

Through it all, very great Sympathy was evinced for the Lady Barbara Wychwoode, whose pretty Face was so well-known in Town and whose Charm of Manner and kindly Disposition had endeared her to many who had had the privilege of her Acquaintance. Public Opinion is a strange and unaccountable Factor in the Affairs of Men, and Public Opinion found it terribly hard that so young and adulated a Girl as was the Lady Barbara should at one fell swoop lose Brother, Lover and Friends. And I may truly say that Satisfaction was absolutely genuine and universal when it became known presently that the young Earl of Stour had received a full and gracious Pardon for his supposed Share in the abominable Plot.

Whether, on closer Investigation, he had been proved innocent or whether the Pardon was due to exalted or other powerful Influences, no one knew as yet: all that was a Certainty was that my Lord Stour presently left the Tower a free Man even whilst his Friends were one and all brought to Trial, and subsequently most of them executed for High Treason, or otherwise severely punished.

Lord Teammouth suffered Death upon the Scaffold, so did Sir James Campsfield and Mr. Andrew Kinver; and there were others, whose Names escape me for the moment. Lord Douglas Wychwoode succeeded in fleeing to Scotland and thence to Holland; most people averred owing to the marvellous Pluck and Ingenuity of his Sister. A number of Persons of meaner degree were hanged; in fact, a Reign of Terror swept over the country, and many thought that the Judges had been unduly harsh and over free with their Pronouncements of Death Sentences.

But it was obvious that His Majesty himself meant to make an Example of such abominable Traitors, before political Intrigues and Rebellion spread over the Country once again.

It was all the more strange, therefore, that one of the Conspirators – the Earl of Stour, in fact, whose name had been most conspicuous in connection with the Affair – should thus have been the only one to enjoy Immunity. But, as I said before, nothing but Satisfaction was expressed at first for this one small Ray of Sunshine which came to brighten poor Lady Barbara Wychwoode's Misery.

As for me, I did not know what to think. Surely my heart should have been filled with Admiration for the noble Revenge which a great Artist had taken upon a hot-headed young Coxcomb. Such Magnanimity was indeed unbelievable; nay, I felt that it showed a Weakness of Character of which in my innermost Heart I did not believe Mr. Betterton capable.

To say that I was much rejoiced over the Clemency shown to my Lord Stour would be to deviate from the Truth. Looking back upon the Motives which had actuated me when I denounced the infamous Plot to the Countess of Castlemaine, I could not help but admit to myself that Hatred of a young Jackanapes and a Desire for Vengeance upon his impudent Head had greatly influenced my Course of Action. Now that I imagined him once more kneeling at the Lady Barbara's feet, an accepted Lover, triumphant over Destiny, all the Sympathy which I may have felt for him momentarily in the hour of his Adversity, died out completely from my Heart, and I felt that I hated him even more virulently than before.

His Image, as he had last stood before me in the dimly-lighted room of his noble Mansion, surrounded by Books, costly Furniture, and all the Appurtenances of a rich and independent Gentleman, was constantly before my Mind. I could, just by closing mine eyes, see him sitting beside the hearth, with the lovely Lady Barbara beaming at him from the place opposite, and his Friend standing by, backing him up with Word and Deed in all his Arrogance and Overbearing.

"The Earl of Stour cannot cross swords with a Mountebank."

I seemed to hear those Words reverberating across the street like the clank of some ghostly Bell; and whenever mine ears rang to their sound I felt the hot Blood of a just Wrath surge up to my cheeks and my feeble Hands would close in a Clutch, that was fierce as it was impotent.

3

The reported Death from grief of the Marquis of Sidbury proved to be a false Rumour. But the aged Peer did suffer severely from the Shame put upon him by his Son's Treachery. The Wychwoodes had always been loyal Subjects of their King. At the time of the late lamented Monarch's most crying Adversity, he knew that he could always count on the Devotion of that noble Family, the Members of which had jeopardized their entire Fortune, their very Existence, in the royal Cause.

Of course, the present Marquis's two Children were scarce out of the Nursery when the bitter Conflict raged between the King and his People; but it must have been terribly hard for a proud Man to bear the thought that his only Son, as soon as he had reached Man's Estate, should have raised his Hand against his Sovereign.

No doubt owing to the disturbed State of many influential Circles of Society that Winter, and the number of noble Families who were in mourning after the aborted Conspiracy and the wholesale Executions that ensued, the Marriage between the Lady Barbara Wychwoode and the Earl of Stour was postponed until the Spring, and then it would take place very quietly at the Bride's home in Sussex, whither she had gone of late with her Father, both living there for a while in strict Retirement.

Lord Douglas Wychwoode, so it was understood, had succeeded in reaching Holland, where, I doubt not, he continued to carry on those political Intrigues against his lawful Sovereign which would of a surety one day bring him to an ignominious End.

I was now living in the greatest Comfort and was supremely happy, in the House of Mr. Betterton. He employed me as his Secretary, and in truth my place was no sinecure, for I never could have believed that there were so many foolish Persons in the World who spent their time in writing Letters – laudatory or otherwise – to such great Men as were in the public Eye. I myself, though I have always been a wholehearted Admirer of Men of Talent and Erudition, would never have taken it upon myself to trouble them with Effusions from my Pen. And yet Letter after Letter would come to the house in Tothill Street, addressed to Mr. Thomas Betterton. Some written by great and noble Ladies whose Names would surprise You, dear Mistress, were I to mention them; others were from Men of position and of learning who desired to express to the great Artist all the Pleasure that they had derived from his rendering of noble Characters.

Mr. Pepys, a Gentleman of great knowledge and a Clerk in the Admiralty, wrote quite frequently to Mr. Betterton, sometimes to express unstinted Praise for the great Actor's Performance in one of his favourite Plays, or sometimes venturing on Criticism, which was often shrewd and never disdained.

But, after all, am I not wasting time by telling You that which You, dear Mistress, know well enough from your own personal Experience? I doubt not but you receive many such Letters, both from Admirers and from Friends, not to mention Enemies, who are always to the fore when a Man or Woman rises by Talent or Learning above the dead level of the rest of Humanity.

It was then my duty to read those Letters and to reply to them, which I did at Mr. Betterton's Dictation, and in my choicest Caligraphy with many Embellishments such as I had learned whilst I was Clerk to Mr. Baggs. Thus it was that I obtained Confirmation of the Fact which was still agitating my Mind: namely, Mr. Betterton's share in the Events which led to His Majesty's gracious Pardon being extended to the Earl of Stour. I had, of course, more than suspected all along that it was my Friend who had approached the Countess of Castlemaine on the Subject, yet could not imagine how any Man, who was smarting under such a terrible Insult, as Mr. Betterton had suffered at the hands of my Lord Stour, could find it in his Heart thus to return Good for Evil, and with such splendid Magnanimity.

But here I had Chapter and Verse for the whole Affair, because my Lady Castlemaine wrote to Mr. Betterton more than once upon the Subject, and always in the same bantering tone, chaffing him for his Chivalry and his Heroism, saying very much what I should myself, if I had had the Courage or the Presumption to do so. She kept him well informed of her Endeavours on behalf of Lord Stour, referring to the King's Severity and Obstinacy in the matter in no measured Language, but almost invariably closing her Epistles with a reiteration of her promise to the great Artist to grant him any Favour he might ask of her.

"I do work most strenuously on your behalf, You adorably wicked Man," her Ladyship wrote in one of her Letters; "but I could wish that You would ask something of me which more closely concerned Yourself."

On another occasion she said:

"For the first time yester evening I wrung a half Promise from His Majesty; but You cannot conceive in what a Predicament You have placed me, for His Majesty hath shown signs of Suspicion since I plead so earnestly on behalf of Lord Stour. If my Insistence were really to arouse his Jealousy your Protégé would certainly lose his Head and I probably my Place in the King's Affections."

And then again:

"It greatly puzzles me why You should thus favour my Lord Stour. Is it not a fact that he hath insulted You beyond the Hope of Pardon? And yet, not only do You plead for your Enemy with passionate insistence, but You enjoin me at the same time to keep your noble purpose a Secret from him. Truly, but for my promise to You, I would throw up the Sponge, and that for your own good… I did not know that Artists were Altruists. Methought that Egotism was their most usual Foible."

Thus I could no longer remain in doubt as to who the Benefactor was, whom my Lord of Stour had to thank for his very life. Yet, withal, the Secret was so well kept that, even in this era of ceaseless Gossip and Chatter, every one, even in the most intimate Court Circle, was ignorant of the subtle Intrigue which had been set in motion on behalf of the young Gallant.

CHAPTER XII
POISONED ARROWS

1

Do you remember, dear Mistress, those lovely days we had in February this year? They were more like days of Spring than of Winter. For a fortnight we revelled in sunshine and a temperature more fitting for May than for one of the Winter months.

In London, Rich and Poor alike came out into the Air like flies; the public Gardens and other Places of common resort were alive with Promenaders; the Walks and Arbours in the Gray's Inn Walks or the Mulberry Garden were astir with brilliant Company. All day, whether you sauntered in Hyde Park, refreshed yourself with a collation in Spring Gardens or strolled into the New Exchange, you would find such a crowd of Men and Women of Mode, such a Galaxy of Beauty and Bevy of fair Maids and gallant Gentlemen as had not been seen in the Town since that merry month of May, nigh on two years ago now, when our beloved King returned from Exile and all vied one with the other to give him a cheerful Welcome.

To say that this period was one of unexampled Triumph for Mr. Betterton would be but to repeat what You know just as well as I do. He made some truly remarkable hits in certain Plays of the late Mr. William Shakespeare, notably in "Macbeth," in "King Lear," and in "Hamlett." Whether I like these Plays myself or not is beside the point; whatever I thought of them I kept to myself, but was loud in my Admiration of the great Actor, who indeed had by now conquered all Hearts, put every other Performer in the Shade and raised the Status of the Duke's Company of Players to a level far transcending that ever attained by Mr. Killigrew's old Company.

This Opinion, at any rate, I have the Honour of sharing with all the younger generation of Play-goers who flock to the Theatre in Lincoln's Inn Fields, even while the King's House in Vere Street is receiving but scanty Patronage. Of course my Judgment may not be altogether impartial, seeing that in addition to Mr. Betterton, who is the finest Actor our English Stage has ever known, the Duke's House also boasts of the loveliest Actress that ever walked before the Curtain.

You, dear Mistress, were already then, as You are now, at the zenith of your Beauty and Fame, and your damask Cheeks would blush, I know, if you were to read for yourself some of the Eulogies which the aforementioned Mr. Samuel Pepys in his Letters to Mr. Betterton bestows upon the exquisite Mistress Saunderson – "Ianthe," as he has been wont to call you ever since he saw You play that part in Sir William Davenant's "The Siege of Rhodes."

Of course I know that of late no other sentimental tie hath existed outwardly between Mr. Betterton and Yourself save that of Comradeship and friendly Intercourse; but often when sitting in the Pit of the Theatre I watched You and Him standing together before the curtain, and receiving the Plaudits of an enthusiastic Audience, I prayed to God in my Heart to dissipate the Cloud of Misunderstanding which had arisen between You; aye! and I cursed fervently the Lady Barbara and her noble Lover, who helped to make that Cloud more sombre and impenetrable.

2

I naturally heard a great deal more of Society Gossip these days than I was wont to do during the time that I was a mere Clerk in the Employ of Mr. Theophilus Baggs. My kind Employer treated me more as a Friend than a Servant. I had fine Clothes to wear, accompanied him on several Occasions when he appeared in Public, and was constantly in his tiring-room at the Theatre, where he received and entertained a never-ending Stream of Friends.

Thus, towards the end of the Month, I gathered from the Conversation of Gentlemen around me that the Marquess of Sidbury had come up to Town in the Company of his beautiful Daughter. He had, they said, taken advantage of the fine Weather to make the Journey to London, as he desired to consult the Court Physician on the Matter of his Health.

I shall never forget the strange Look that came into Mr. Betterton's face when first the Subject was mentioned. He and some Friends – Ladies as well as Gentlemen – were assembled in the small Reception Room which hath lately been fitted up behind the Stage. Upholstered and curtained with a pleasing Shade of Green, the Room is much frequented by Artists and their Friends, and it is always crowded during the Performance of those Plays wherein one of the leading Actors or Actresses has a part.

We have taken to calling the place the Green Room, and here on the occasion of a performance of Mr. Webster's "Duchess of Malfy," in which You, dear Mistress, had no part, a very brilliant Company was assembled. Sir William Davenant was there, as a matter of course, so was Sir George Etherege, and that brilliant young dramatist Mr. Wycherley. In addition to that, there were one or two very great Gentlemen there, members of the Court Circle and enthusiastic Playgoers, who were also intimate Friends of Mr. Betterton. I am referring particularly to the Duke of Buckingham, to my Lord Rochester, Lord Orrery and others. A brilliant Assembly forsooth, which testified to the high Esteem in which the great Artist is held by all those who have the privilege of knowing him.

I told You that when first the Name of the Lady Barbara was mentioned in the Green Room, a strange Glance, which I was unable to interpret, shot out of Mr. Betterton's eyes, and as I gazed upon that subtle, impalpable Change which suddenly transformed his serene Expression of Countenance into one that was almost Evil, I felt a curious sinking of the Heart – a dread Premonition of what was to come. You know how his lips are ever ready to smile: now they appeared thin and set, while the sensitive Nostrils quivered almost like those of the wild Beasts which we have all of us frequently watched in the Zoological Gardens, when the Attendants bring along the food for the day and they, eager and hungry, know that the Hour of Satisfaction is nigh.

"The fair Lady Babs," one of the young Gallants was saying with studied Flippancy, "is more beautiful than ever, methinks; even though she goes about garbed in the Robes of Sorrow."

"Poor young thing!" commented His Grace of Buckingham kindly. "She has been hard hit in that last Affair."

"I wonder what has happened to Wychwoode," added Lord Rochester, who had been a known Friend of Lord Douglas.

"Oh! he reached Holland safely enough," another Gentleman whom I did not know averred. "I suppose he thinks that it will all blow over presently and that he will obtain a free pardon – "

"Like my Lord Stour," commented Mr. Betterton drily.

"Oh! that's hardly likely," interposed Sir George Etherege. "Wychwoode was up to the neck in the Conspiracy, whilst Stour was proved to be innocent of the whole affair."

"How do you know that?" Mr. Betterton asked quietly.

"How do I know it?" retorted Sir George. "Why? … How do we all know it?"

"I was wondering," was Mr. Betterton's calm Rejoinder.

"I imagine," broke in another Gentleman, "that at the Trial – "

"Stour never stood his trial, now you come to think of it," here interposed my Lord of Rochester.

"He was granted a free Pardon," asserted His Grace of Buckingham, "two days after his Arrest."

"At the Instance of the Countess of Castlemaine, so I am told," concluded Mr. Betterton.

You see, he only put in a Word here and there, but always to some purpose; and oh! that Purpose I simply dared not guess. I was watching him, remember, watching him as only a devoted Friend or a fond Mother know how to watch; and I saw that set look on his Face grow harder and harder and a steely, glittering Light flash out of his Eyes.

My God! how I suffered! For with that Intuition which comes to us at times when those whom we love are in deadly peril, I had suddenly beheld the Abyss of Evil into which my Friend was about to plunge headlong. Yes! I understood now why Mr. Betterton had pleaded with my Lady Castlemaine for his Enemy's Life. It was not in order to confer upon him a lasting benefit and thus shame him by his Magnanimity; but rather in order to do him an Injury so irreparable that even Death could not wipe it away.

But you shall judge, dear Mistress; and thus judging You will understand much that has been so obscure in my dear Friend's Character and in his Actions of late. And to understand All is to forgive All. One thing you must remember, however, and that is that no Man of Mr. Betterton's Worth hath ever suffered in his Pride and his innermost Sensibilities as he hath done at the Hands of that young Jackanapes whom he hated – as I had good cause to know now – with an Intensity which was both cruel and relentless. He meant to be even with him, to fight him with his own Weapons, which were those of Contempt and of Ridicule. He meant to wound there, where he himself had suffered most, in Reputation and in Self-Respect.

I saw it all, and was powerless to do aught save to gaze in mute Heart-Agony on the marring of a noble Soul. Nay! I am not ashamed to own it: I did in my Heart condemn my Friend for what he had set out to do. I too hated Lord Stour, God forgive me! but two months ago I would gladly have seen his arrogant Head fall upon the Scaffold; but this subtle and calculating Revenge, this cold Intrigue to ruin a Man's Reputation and to besmirch his Honour, was beyond my ken, and I could have wept to see the great Soul of the Man, whom I admired most in all the World, a prey to such an evil Purpose.

"We all know," one of the young Sparks was saying even now, "that my Lady Castlemaine showed Stour marked favour from the very moment he appeared at Court."

"We also know," added Mr. Betterton with quiet Irony, "that the whisper of a beautiful Woman often drowns the loudest call of Honour."

"But surely you do not think – ?" riposted Lord Rochester indignantly, "that – that – "

"That what, my lord?" queried Mr. Betterton calmly.

"Why, demme, that Stour did anything dishonourable?"

"Why should I not think that?" retorted Mr. Betterton, with a slight Elevation of the Eyebrows.

"Because he is a Stourcliffe of Stour, Sir," broke in Sir George Etherege in that loud, blustering way he hath at times; "and bears one of the greatest Names in the Land."

"A great Name is hereditary, Sir," rejoined the great Actor quietly. "Honesty is not."

"But what does Lady Castlemaine say about it all?" interposed Lord Orrery.

"Lady Castlemaine hath not been questioned on the subject, I imagine," interposed Sir William Davenant drily.

"Ah!" rejoined His Grace of Buckingham. "There you are wrong, Davenant. I remember speaking to her Ladyship about Stour one day – saying how glad I was that he, at any rate, had had nothing to do with that abominable Affair."

"Well?" came eagerly from every one. "What did she say?"

His Grace remained thoughtful for a time, as if trying to recollect Something that was eluding his Memory. Then he said, turning to Mr. Betterton: