CHAPTER VII
THE EYE OF THE DRAGON
One morning, a week or more after my visit to my uncle's house, withFrances, she came to my closet in the Wardrobe greatly excited, and toldme that a sheriff had come to take her to one of the London courts oflaw.
"Here is the paper he gave me," she said, handing me a document whichproved to be a subpoena. "I have committed no crime, and I can't imaginewhat it all means."
After examining the subpoena, I explained: "You are wanted merely as awitness before a jury of inquiry engaged in investigating a crime of somesort. It may be Hamilton's fight at the Old Swan, or it may be the RogerWentworth affair. Perhaps some one is trying to fix that awful crime onHamilton. But I tell you, Frances, he is innocent."
I had not, at that time, explained to her that Hamilton and Churchillwere two hundred yards behind Crofts and his friends when the robbery wascommitted, having felt that it was just as well not to make Hamilton'sinnocence too clear.
We of the court considered ourselves exempt from processes of this sortwhile in the palace. Therefore I carried the paper to the king, whom Ifound at cards in his closet.
"What is it, Clyde?" asked his Majesty.
For answer, I handed him the subpoena, and when he had glanced over it,he returned it to me, saying:--
"Please tell the sheriff for me that Mistress Jennings will appear beforethe court of inquiry this afternoon at two o'clock."
"It is a disagreeable business for a lady, your Majesty," I remarked,bowing. "But if it is your desire--"
"Yes, yes, Clyde! Come with me," he interrupted, leading me out ofthe room to a corridor. "You see it is this way. We of the palace haveso frequently set the law at defiance of late that the citizens arebeginning to grumble. In this instance I should like to make a greatshow of compliance. We'll make it easy for your cousin by going with her.And Clyde, if you will say to the duchess for me that I should deem it afavor if she and one or more of her ladies will accompany us, I doubt notshe will be glad to go."
"But, your Majesty, what has my cousin done that she should be draggedbefore the courts of law?" I asked, pretending ignorance of the realnature of the summons and hoping to ascertain whether the king knewanything about the present occasion.
I gained the information I wanted when he replied instantly: "Oh, she isnot to be tried. She has done nothing. She is called only to bequestioned concerning a crime now under investigation." Then hedgingquickly, "That is, I suppose such is the purpose of the subpoena."
The king's manner and his evident knowledge of what was going onconvinced me that Hamilton was the subject of inquiry, and I greatlyfeared an effort was being made to charge him with Roger Wentworth'sdeath or to arraign him because of his threats against the king's life.
I was about to leave the king when he stopped me, saying "Please go to myLady Castlemain's lodging over Holbein's Gate and ask her to go with usdown to London. And Clyde, have my barge at the Bowling Green stairs atone o'clock so that we may take our leisure going down the river andstill reach the law courts on time. Our punctuality will flatter the cityfolk."
At one o'clock, according to instructions, I went to the royal bargewaiting at Bowling Green stairs, where presently came the king, theduchess with one of her ladies, Frances, my Lord Clarendon, and my LadyCastlemain, the last named bearing in her arms a young baby. In a bargewhich was to follow us were several gentlemen of the court and ahalfscore of the king's guardsmen. Evidently the occasion was to be inthe nature of a frolic; poor Frances to furnish the entertainment.
On thinking it all over, I was convinced that the investigation, whateverit should turn out to be, had been instigated by the king.
When we entered the barge, Frances clung to my hand and sat down besideme, but the king, who was sitting with the duchess on one hand andCastlemain on the other, beckoned Frances to sit beside him. She went tohim reluctantly, and he moved toward the duchess, making room for Francesbetween himself and Castlemain. But that fair lady objected and moved upto the king, indicating by a nod that Frances might sit on the spot herLadyship had vacated.
But the king said, "You are to sit by me, Mistress Jennings."
"She'll do nothing of the sort," exclaimed Castlemain, with an oath."She'll sit on the other side of me or in the bottom of the barge, or inthe river, I care not which."
"You shall make room, or I'll have you put out of the barge," said theking, displaying a flash of temper.
Immediately a torrent of profanity and piercing screams came from herLadyship.
"Let any man lay hands on me," she cried, turning to the king, "and thisbrat of yours goes into the water!"
"Sit down, in God's name, sit down and have your way," said the king,waving his hand to the man on the wharf to throw the warps aboard.
The duchess laughed and offered to give her place to Frances, but ofcourse my cousin refused and came back to me.
* * * * *
When we reached the courtroom, we found it filled with men, women, andchildren, most of them belonging to the lower walks of life and all ofthem eager to see the king, whom they seemed to know was coming.
As we entered, the High Sheriff, in his gown, rose and cried: "Oyez!Oyez! His Majesty is now in presence!" Whereupon the audience rose andremained standing till the king left.
We had entered by the public door, the king doubtless wishing to displayhimself as fully as possible to the people. As we passed down the aisleto the bar, I caught the eyes of a man garbed as a Quaker. He wore a thingray beard, and his white hair hung almost to his shoulders. His bearingand expression were truly sanctimonious, and had the gleam in his eyesbeen in keeping, I should not have taken a second glance at him. But itwas not, so as I came close to him I noticed him carefully and saw thathe was observing me. At once I thought of Hamilton, and although I wasnot at all sure of my ground, I dropped my hat near him, as an excuse forstopping, and, while bending toward him, whispered:--
"Dark spectacles shade the eyes."
If the man was not Hamilton, my remark would mean nothing; if he was, itwould give him a valuable hint.
When the king and the duchess were seated, the judge spoke from thebench, calling the attention of the good people of London to the factthat his gracious Majesty had given to the court information which, itwas hoped, would lead to the arrest of the man who had committed theheinous crime of robbing and killing Roger Wentworth on the king'shighway. The judge said that his gracious Majesty, loving justice asperhaps no other king of England had ever loved it, had come in personto offer as a witness one of the fairest ladies of the court, by whosetestimony it was expected the guilty man might be brought to justice.
During this speech, which was much longer than I have given it, I noticedthat the king was restless, and I suspected that, in his heart, hisMajesty was cursing the judge for a fool.
When the judge sat down, the Grand Jury was summoned, and in a fewminutes the wheels of justice were ready to turn. In proceedings of thisnature, there is no prisoner at bar; therefore no one is in court savethe crown by its counsel, the purpose being only to obtain informationupon which a true bill or indictment may be found against some onesuspected of the crime under investigation.
After all was ready, the sheriff escorted Frances to the witness stand,and the judge asked her to place her hand on the Bible. She did so andmade oath that she would true answers make to all questions that shouldbe put to her touching her knowledge of the robbery and murder of oneRoger Wentworth.
When she had made oath, the king's counsel said: "You may state to thecourt whether you were acquainted with one Roger Wentworth, a tanner ofSundridge, during his life." To which question Frances answered that shehad known Roger since her childhood.
The king's counsel then put several preliminary questions which led up tothe time of Roger's murder, after which he asked:--
"You may state to the court whether you saw the faces of any of thehighwaymen."
"I did," answered Fran
ces.
"Are you acquainted with one George Hamilton?" asked the lawyer.
"Yes," answered Frances. And my heart almost leaped out of my mouth infear that her next word would mean death to an innocent man.
"You may state whether George Hamilton was one of the highwaymen whoattacked and killed Roger Wentworth."
Frances paused for perhaps ten seconds, but the time seemed an hour tome, and I remember wondering how the Quaker felt.
"No," she answered, in a voice clear as a bell and without a flutter ofhesitancy.
It could easily be seen that her answer surprised the court and theking's counsel, and as the king glanced up to Crofts, who was standing byhis side, I noticed a queer expression which seemed to say that theevidence was not what they had expected.
The king's counsel held a brief whispered consultation with the judge,who spoke privately to the king, and suddenly Frances was told that theproceedings were over. Evidently the king had refused to have herquestioned further, fearing, no doubt, that she might testify to havingrecognized the real culprits.
After the court had risen, we were perhaps ten minutes making our wayfrom the courtroom, and when we came to the coaches which were to takeus to our barge, I saw the Quaker standing near by. He wore coloredspectacles. He was Hamilton. As I passed the Quaker, I said to Francesloud enough for him to hear:--
"I shall go to see Betty each Sabbath evening hereafter."
Frances looked up in surprise at my apparently senseless remark, but Idid not explain its significance, and she remained in ignorance of thefact that Hamilton had just heard her make what she supposed to be afalse oath for his sake. Soon after we reached the palace, my cousinand I walked out to the park, and after a long meditative silence, sheasked:--
"Was I guilty of a great sin in making a false oath on the book?"
"No," I answered. "Because you swore to the truth, not only in thespirit, but in the letter. Hamilton was not one of the highwaymen whoattacked and killed Roger Wentworth."
"Ah, but I saw him and recognized him," she answered.
"Why, then, did you make oath that you did not?" I asked.
"I have been asking myself the same question over and over," shereturned. Then after a long pause. "I deliberately swore falsely. I didrecognize him by the light of the lanthorn. I wish I had never seen him,but having known him as I did at one time, I almost wish that I couldhave remained in ignorance of his guilt. Would that the lanthorn had beendark so that I could not have seen him."
"I do not deny that you saw him, Frances, but I do deny that you saw himattack Roger Wentworth. Hamilton was two hundred yards down the road whenRoger was killed. If not, he has lied to me, and, with all his faults,I have always found him truthful."
After a moment she answered musingly: "I believe you are right. Noah hadwhipped up the horses, and we must have covered at least a hundred yardsor more before I saw Master Hamilton's face. I fear I have committeda great sin against him, and this day came near committing a greater. Iwas on the point of answering 'yes' to the lawyer's question, when somemotive prompted me to say 'no,' and to make false oath. I wish I weredead. I have wronged him cruelly, and you are to blame."
The last sentence was purely feminine logic, which is always interestingbut usually inaccurate.
She began to weep, and I took her hand to soothe her, as I asked gently:"Tell me, Frances. Tell me all your trouble. Speak it out. Let me be yourother self. Perhaps I can help you."
After a long pause she began her pathetic story: "I cannot blind myselfto the truth. It is because I cannot stop thinking of him. The creaturesthat infest this court are but foils to show me that he is a man, eventhough he be a bad one, while they are mere imitations. I have oftenheard you say bitingly that women do not hate wickedness in men as theyshould--"
"I fear it is true," I interrupted dolefully.
"I suppose it is," she continued. "And one might go further and say thatno woman ever loved a man only because he was good. Too often goodness isbut the lack of courage to do wrong or the absence of temptation. If aman has no qualities save goodness to recommend him, I fear he might gohis whole life through not knowing a woman's real love. We are apt toturn from the nauseating innocuousness of the truly good and to thank Godfor a modicum of interesting sin."
"I'm sorry to hear this philosophy from you, cousin, for it smacks ofbitterness, and I regret to learn that you have not thrown off your lovefor Hamilton, though I have long suspected the truth."
"Yes, yes, Ned, the truth, the truth! I, too, am sorry. But it can'tbe helped, and I want to tell you all about it," she said, clasping myarm. "I--I am almost mad about him! The king and the courtiers areharmless. It may be that my love exalts Master Hamilton and debasesothers by comparison, but it is as I say with me, and I fear it will everbe. He may be bad, but he is strong, brave, and honest. He is a man--allman--and I tell you, Baron Ned, a woman doesn't look much further whenshe goes to give her love."
My eyes were opening rapidly to qualities in my cousin that I had neversuspected, so after a moment I asked in alarm:--
"But surely you would not marry Hamilton?"
"No, I cannot marry him because of father," she answered, shaking herhead dolefully. "I must marry a rich man. More than a month ago the Dukeof Tyrconnel asked me to be his wife, as you know. He seems to know thathe must buy me if he would have me, so he tells me that he has fortythousand pounds a year, and offers to settle ten thousand a year on me ifI will marry him. I asked for a fortnight in which to consider his offer,and when the time was up I begged for another, which he granted, kindlysaying that he did not want me to answer till I was sure of myself, eventhough the delay cost him a year's happiness. The time is almost up, andI must ask another extension; but I shall eventually take him, and thenGod pity me, for I know I shall die."
"No, no, Frances," I returned, trying to conceal my delight. "You will behappy with Dick Talbot if you will thrust the other man out of yourheart."
"Thrust the other man out of my heart!" she exclaimed. "It was never doneby a woman. She may be cured, I suppose, by time and conditions, but shecan't cure herself. A woman's heart is like a telescope. It magnifies theman of her choice, but reverses and becomes a diminishing glass for allothers. But I shall accept Tyrconnel just as soon as I grow used to thethought of living with him. Soon you will have accomplished your purposein bringing me to court."
"My purpose?" I asked in surprise. "Was it not also your purpose?"
"I suppose it was, but I hate myself for having conceived it. I'mlearning to hate every one, the king more than any man, unless I exceptthat little wretch, Jermyn, the court lady-killer. What a despicablething your lady-killer is! Doubtless God created him to show bycomparison the great worth of worms, snakes, and other reptiles."
"What has Little Jermyn been doing?" I asked, amused at hervindictiveness.
"He has crushed so many hearts that he deems himself irresistible, andof late has been annoying me. If by any chance he finds me alone, heimportunes me to make a tryst with him and save him from death because ofa broken heart. I usually answer by walking away from him and try to showhim that he is beneath even my contempt, but his vanity is so great thathe imagines my manner to be the outgrowth of pique or a desire to leadhim on. Therefore when others are present, he gazes on me with down-benthead and eyes upturned from beneath his bulging forehead, as though hewould put a spell upon me."
"Well, let him gaze. It can't harm you," I suggested.
"No, but it makes me ill," she answered. "Three nights ago I was standingwith the king and several ladies and gentlemen, waiting for the countrydance to begin, for which the king was to call the changes. This LittleJermyn came up to the group, and, without speaking a word to any one,fixed his upturned eyes on me."
"That was a sin," I said, laughing, but she ignored my interruption.
"For a time I paid no heed, but soon his gaze so nauseated me that Icould not restrain my anger, and said, loud enough for him and the othersto hear, 'Wh
at ails the little man, that he should stand there staring atme like a sick calf trying to cast a spell upon the moon?' The kinglaughed and Jermyn bowed, as he replied, 'The moon pretends to disdainveal, doubtless in the hope of having royal beef.' The king laughed andtold Jermyn to gaze elsewhere, if the moon refused to be spellbound, andthe little creature left us to carry out the king's suggestion. But Ishall marry Tyrconnel and make an end of it all just as soon aspossible.'"
We returned to the palace, and I did not see my cousin during the nextweek. Meantime the king was growing more importunate, and one day affairsreached a terrifying climax when he intimated to Frances that if shewould promise to become his wife, he would try to divorce the queen. Ithas been said, doubtless with truth, that the same offer was made toMistress Stuart, now the Duchess of Richmond.
When Frances refused his Majesty's offer, which, probably, was made onlyfor the purpose of inducing her to trust him, he asked with ill-concealedanger:--
"Do you refuse my offer because you are still thinking of Hamilton?"
"I would refuse it, your Majesty, were there no other man in the world,"answered Frances, bowing and asking leave to withdraw.
When Frances told me of this extraordinary offer, I was convinced thatthe king had no intention of fulfilling it, but it served to open my eyesto the extent of his passion, and to assure me that he would use anymeans in his power, however desperate, to gain his end. Frances was indanger.
I also knew that if the king held Hamilton responsible for Frances'sobduracy, means would be found of putting him out of the way, if hisMajesty could but get hands on him. With this belief strong upon me, Iwas not surprised when Frances came to me in great tribulation, withina day or two, and said:--
"Cousin Ned, it is reported that Master Hamilton is still in Londonand that he has avowed his intention to kill the king. The surgeon whodressed his wounds is said to be responsible for the accusation. If heis found, he certainly will die, for the proof will be at hand, false ortrue. The king told me as much, and offered to pardon Master Hamilton ifI would ask it in the proper spirit. But I refused, saying that I did notcare a farthing what he did respecting Hamilton. You must find him, BaronNed! Find him at once and give him warning!"
"I feel sure that Betty knows where he is," I answered. "I'll go to herto-morrow."
"Yes, she may know, and I would save him if I could," answered Frances,trying hard to hold back the tears. "I wronged him cruelly, and now Ifear it is too late to make amends. I can only moan and weep, and longto ask him to forgive me and to tell him that I am not the creature hethinks I am. I would speak plainly to him for once of what I am and ofwhat I feel for him, and then I am ready to part from him forever and tomarry Tyrconnel or any one else who will give me wealth."
The following day Frances asked and received permission from the duchessto spend the day with Sir Richard. I offered to accompany her, but sherefused so emphatically that I suspected there was a purpose in her mindover and above a mere visit to her father's house.
I remember well the day. It was near the hour of ten when I saw herleave the palace by the garden door. She wore a long dark cloak, a smallbonnet, and a full vizard which covered her entire face. I had neverknown her to wear so large a vizard, as she detested even small ones, andwore them only out of respect for the prevailing fashion. She hastenedtoward the King Street Gate, and I, following at a short distance, sawher take boat at the Charing Cross stairs.
After thinking over the situation, I determined to go to my uncle'shouse. As I had suspected, Frances was not there. After greeting SirRichard and Sarah, I asked them, as though speaking by the way, when theyhad seen Frances.
"She hasn't been home for a week or more," answered Sir Richard.
"I wish she would make haste in choosing a husband, or in wheedlingone to choose her," remarked Sarah. "I'll beat her in the race if shedoesn't. If I should, I might furnish a new saw to the world: 'The suitoris not always to the beautiful, nor the husband to the soft of tongue.' Ihave a gallant."
"So I have suspected of late," I answered.
"Yes, you're right--John Churchill," answered Sarah.
"He is a fine man," I returned.
"Yes," replied Sarah, apparently very serious, though there was a twinklein her eye. "But I'm not sure of him yet." Then with a sigh: "I wouldthat I were. If he knows what is for his own good, he'll speak soon, asI intend to make a duke of him before he dies, and the sooner we get atit the better. A sensible conscience, prepense to its own interest, agood courtier, and a shrewd wife have made many a duke of far poorermaterial than my John."
I laughed, and Sir Richard smiled, but we each seemed to feel thatSarah's words were prophetic, and the future bore us out, as all theworld knows.
After waiting in my uncle's parlor an hour or more, hoping that Franceswould arrive, I took my leave and walked down to the Old Swan, where Ifound her. What happened there I learned afterward from her and fromothers--that is, what I did not see for myself.
After leaving Whitehall, Frances had made her way directly to the OldSwan, where she soon found Betty. At first the girl did not seem inclinedto be at all cordial, but when Frances told her that she was in troubleand wanted help, Betty's kind heart responded at once. "Trouble" was thepassword to Betty's good graces.
"Let us go to a room where we may be by ourselves," suggested Frances. "Iwant to talk to you freely where we shall not be overheard."
Betty led the way to her own little parlor on the second floor and placeda chair for her guest near a window opening on the court. Frances satdown and asked Betty, who evidently intended to remain standing, to bringa chair and sit beside her.
"I would not think of sitting in your Grace's presence," answered Betty,courtesying respectfully.
"Sit down, Betty, please, and let us be friends," said Frances,coaxingly. "I am not a duchess. I am only a girl like yourself. My nameis Mistress Jennings--Frances. Nelly Gwynn was jesting when she spoke ofme as a duchess, and only wanted to tease you when she objected to thetable linen. She is good and kind--no one can be more so."
"Yes," returned Betty. "She came back and said that the linen wasbeautiful and offered me money for myself, but I refused. You see Iam not--well, I am not a servant. But afterward she gave me a hundredjacobusses for the poor, and I thanked her. I am very sorry that I wasangry the day of the fight, but you know the great persons who come herefrom Whitehall are very irritating, and treat us all with contempt."
"I am not a great lady, Betty, though I live at court. I am poor and veryfar from happy. I am not so good as you, Betty, I'm sure, though I do thebest I can not to be bad."
"Oh, you are too beautiful not to be good," returned Betty, warming up tomy cousin.
"Whether I am beautiful or not I care little, for I am in great troubleand have come to you for help," said Frances. "My cousin, Baron Clyde,who is as dear to me as a brother, is full of your praises, and only theother day said that there was no woman or girl in England purer or betterthan you, and that he knew none in the world whom he deemed morebeautiful."
The red came to Betty's cheeks, and she answered, smiling and dimpling:"Ah, did he say that of me? I deem him my very good friend indeed. Is hereally your cousin?"
"Yes, he is more a brother than a cousin," returned Frances.
Immediately Betty softened and, drawing a chair close to Frances's side,sat down. After a long pause, she murmured: "Then if I may, I, too, wouldbe your friend."
"I knew you would," answered Frances. "Now give me your hand, so that wemay feel as well as see and hear each other. Ah, Betty, how soft and warmyour hand is. I don't wonder that my cousin praises you. You have won mealready, and I hope we may always be good friends."
"I shall be glad," murmured Betty, pressing Frances's hand, assuringly."You say you are in trouble. In what way may I help you?"
Frances began, "You know Master Hamilton--Master George Hamilton?"
"Yes," answered Betty.
"And you would be glad to help me save hi
m from great peril?" askedFrances.
"Yes, Mistress Jennings. He, too, is my friend and a good man."
"Yes, yes, tell me, Betty. Good, say you? I had not supposed him good,but--"
"If you supposed otherwise, you were wrong," returned Betty,straightening up in her chair, ready to do battle for her friend.
"Yes, yes, tell me, please, Betty, why you deem him good," pleadedFrances, eager to be convinced. "What has he done or left undone?"
"He has left undone all which he should not have done in so far as Iknow," said Betty, "and has done a great deal of good. Recently when aplague was raging along the wall from Aldgate to Bishopgate, where agreat many poor people live, you know, Master Hamilton went down amongthem at peril of his life."
"Yes, yes," interrupted Frances, eagerly.
"He nursed them and carried food and water to them. You know one strickenwith the plague is ready to die of thirst. He took care of the children,helped to bury the dead, which, you know, in case of very poor people, isdone after night, consoled the bereaved, and--oh, Mistress Jennings, itwas an awful sight!" said Betty, tears coming to her eyes.
"And Master Hamilton helped them?" asked Frances, hoping to keep theglorious narrative going.
"Yes, he did the work of half a score of men," said Betty. "In thedisguise of a Quaker, he solicited money with which to buy medicine andto employ physicians, and did everything in his power to comfort the poorsufferers. Doctor Lilly, the astrologer, helped us. People say he is acheat, but I wish we had more of his kind among us."
"And you helped him?" asked Frances.
"Yes, a little," said Betty, modestly. "But my father helped him a greatdeal with money and food."
"Master Hamilton is in danger of his life," said Frances, "and I wouldsave him. Will you help me to find him?"
After a long pause, Betty asked: "But how shall I know that you mean fairby him? I'll see him if I can, and when you return, I'll tell you whereto find him if he consents."
"So you do know where he is?" asked Frances, eagerly.
Betty did not reply, so Frances continued: "I do mean him fair, Betty. Iam risking everything--my good name, perhaps even life itself, in seekinghim. I expected to have to prove my good intent, so I brought with methis letter which no one save myself has ever seen, nor any one otherthan you shall ever see. Read it, Betty. It is one Master Hamilton sentto me from France."
Betty hesitated, but as Frances insisted, she read the letter andreturned it, saying:--
"You are his sweetheart?"
"Yes, yes, Betty, in all that is best and most terrible in the meaning ofthe word."
Betty sat thinking for a moment, then went to the window, saying, "If youwill look out the window across the courtyard, you will see a flight ofstone steps leading to the cellar."
"Yes, yes, I see," returned Frances.
"If you go down the steps, you will find a door to which I shall give youthe key. Enter and you will be in an empty room, the walls of which arehung with worn tapestries taken from the inn. On one side of the room youwill see a tapestried panel bearing the image of St. George and thedragon. Behind the panel is a concealed door, seemingly a part of thewall, but if you will allow the tapestry to hang and will press the eyeof the dragon, the door will open and you may find--your St. George."
Frances caught Betty in her arms, crying, "Let me go to him at once, atonce!"
Betty and Frances went downstairs, and after waiting a minute or two,Betty said, "Now there is no one in the courtyard, and you may crossunseen."
Frances hastened across the courtyard and down the cellar steps. Onreaching the outer door of which Betty had spoken, she halted in fear.But she dared not retreat, so inserting the key, she entered.
In the dim light of the room the images of faded knights, angels, saints,and dragons seemed to stand like a small army of ghosts ready to deny herpassage. But soon she discovered the figure of St. George, pressed theeye of the dragon, lifted the tapestry, and entered the room of aprinting shop.
While Frances had been standing in hesitation before the figure of thesaint, she had heard with some alarm a rumbling noise in the room she wasabout to enter. The rumbling is destined, in my opinion, to go down theline of the ages, an instrument of untold good to mankind, for it was therumbling of a printing-press.
Standing at the press, lifting and lowering it by means of a footlever, and feeding it with broad strips of paper, stood a man in hisshirt-sleeves. At an inclined desk, a type-case, stood another mansetting type, close beside the press. He, also, was in his shirt-sleevesand was much older and stouter than the man at the press.
The rumbling had drowned the slight noise occasioned by the opening ofthe door, so that Frances stood waiting a full minute before she wasobserved. The stout man at the type-case was the first to see her, andwhen he turned, she asked, trembling:--
"I am seeking Master Hamilton. Shall I find him here?"
The man at the press then turned quickly to Frances. His face wassmooth shaven, but was almost covered with printers' ink, giving him theappearance of a blackamoor. The stout man at the type-case, failing torespond, and the other being apparently too surprised to speak, Franceswent to the blackamoor and, standing beside the press, was about torepeat her inquiry.
The type-case, press, and a small table, on which lay a bundle of whitepaper, all stood huddled together in the centre of the room, occupying aspace of perhaps eight feet square.
Before Frances had gained courage to speak, a small bell rang.Immediately the stout man sprang from the type-case, ran in great hasteto a chest near the wall, opened the lid and drew forth a long red cloakand a fez-shaped cap of the same color, each embroidered with signs ofthe zodiac in tarnished gold. He hurriedly put on the gown and cap, andagain diving into the chest, drew forth a long black coat, a broad Quakerhat, a false beard, and a white wig. These he tossed to the blackamoor,then ran across the room, opened a concealed panel in the wall, drew downa lever, closed the panel, sprang to a large desk near by, sat down andbegan to write diligently.
These strange, rapid actions on the part of the stout man were sosurprising and alarming to Frances that for the moment she did notnotice that the section of the floor on which she, the blackamoor, andall the printing apparatus were standing was sinking. Almost before shewas aware of the startling movement of the floor, which, after it hadbegun to move, seemed to fall rather than sink, it stopped suddenly,perhaps eight feet below. The floor above closed silently over her head,and she found herself alone with the inky man in almost total darkness.She was too badly frightened to scream, or even to speak, and stood insilence, awaiting with benumbed senses whatever calamity might befallher.
After a minute or two the blackamoor spoke in whispers: "MistressJennings need have no fear. The officers of her friend, the king, havejust come to the Old Swan seeking me. The bell you heard was the alarm,sounded by Betty Pickering. Unless she is able to keep them away fromhere, you may perhaps hear the sheriffs presently in the room above withDoctor Lilly, the man you saw at the type-case. If they come, I trust youwill remain silent, unless you are here for the purpose of betraying me."
Frances recognized Hamilton's voice, and, notwithstanding his cruelsuspicion, her fear gave place to joy, for she knew that she could soondrive all doubt from his heart. His words did not even hurt her, for shebore in mind the great injustice she had done him, and remembered thegood reason he had to believe that she was not his friend. She tried tospeak calmly and within the bounds of propriety, but the cold words shewould have spoken refused to leave her lips, and after a futile effort torestrain herself, that which was in her heart came forth, because shecould not keep it back.
"Ah, Master Hamilton, you do not understand. I came to tell you that I amnot what you deem me; that if you had good reason to believe me pure whenwe met at Sundridge, you have the same reason now. I want to tell youthat when I refused to recognize you on that awful day in the Old Swan,when you fought so bravely in my behalf, I thought you were guilty
ofRoger Wentworth's death."
"No, no, I am not that bad," interrupted Hamilton.
"At Sundridge you made me believe that you loved me," continued Frances,unmindful of the interruption. "And now since you would not come to me,nor send me word in all this long weary time, I could not restrainmyself, but, all unmaidenly, have come to you because I can in no way putmy love from my heart, pray and try as I will."
She reached forth her hand in the dark and touched him. She had notunderestimated her strength when she believed that by a word she coulddrive doubt from his heart and bring him to her feet, for in a breath shewho had scorned the love of a king, and had laughed at the greatestnobles in England, was in the arms of a man on whose life the king hadset a price. Her head fell back into the bend of his elbow, her willinglips gave him their sweetness, her arm was clasped about his neck, andshe had forgotten all save love and the man she loved.
George said nothing, so after a little time, Frances continued: "Tell methat you know I am not the creature evil-minded persons pretend tobelieve I am. I might have been a duchess, with grand estates, by giftfrom the king, but I am not, nor ever shall be. I loathe him, and sogreat is my sense of contamination that when he touches my hand indancing, I almost feel that it is a thing of evil."
"And you, whom I hear the king would marry, who, I am told, might pickand choose a husband from among the richest and noblest of the land, forwhom it is said the Duke of Tyrconnel is longing, come here to this holeand throw yourself away on me, an outcast; one who makes his daily breadby labor at a printing-press, one on whose life the king has set a price?You come here to give yourself to me!" cried George, almost stunned bysurprise and joy.
He held her close to him and kissed her lips, not to his content, forthat would have been impossible, but till he checked himself to hear heranswer. But she did not speak, and after a little time he led her,groping his way in the dark, to a box standing against the wall, wherethey sat down. She clasped his hand, but did not answer his question.
Supposing that her silence was without cause, and wishing an answer inwords, George continued:--
"It is difficult to believe that you, who went to court to make yourfortune, should refuse it when it is in your grasp and should giveyourself to me."
"No, no," she answered, withdrawing her hand from his clasp and coveringher face. "I do not, I may not give myself to you. But I do give youlove, such as I believe no woman ever before gave to a man. I am going tomarry the Duke of Tyrconnel. But when I learned how grievously I hadwronged you, I would not give him my promise of marriage until I had seenyou and had told you of my love, and had taken one moment of happinessbefore the door is closed between us forever."
This answer came to Hamilton as a chilling surprise, but a moment'sconsideration brought him to see that the girl was right, save, perhaps,in telling her love to a man she could not marry. His knowledge ofwomankind did not help him to know that her hopelessness had been astimulant, both to her love and to its prodigal expression. It did notoccur to him that what she had done and said might be the outpouring ofher despair, and that even a faint hope of ever possessing him as herhusband might have operated as a restraint for modesty's sake. Therefore,with unconscious perversity, Hamilton resented what Frances had done ingiving him her unmeasured love when she knew that she could not giveherself, and he spoke from the midst of his pain:--
"I know that I am not worthy to be your husband. Even had you not takenso great pains to tell me, but had been willing to wreck your life bymarrying me, I should not have accepted the sacrifice. From the first, mylove for you has been the one unselfish impulse of my life, and since Ihave almost lost hope of ever being worthy of you, I should not havepermitted you to share my wretched life, even had you been willing. Butfor you to come to me and to give me your love, only to snatch it backagain before I have had time to refuse the sacrifice, is cruel."
"I do not snatch my love back again," she answered pleadingly. "I couldnot if I would. I have given it to you for life, and it is beyond recall.It is yours forever and forever--all of which my poor aching heart iscapable. Would you rather it had lain in my breast unspoken, through allthe long years I have to live? You say your love is unselfish--"
"If there's anything unselfish in me," interrupted Hamilton.
"Yes, I believe it is unselfish to the extent that a man's love may be,"returned Frances, defending herself. "But if it is, surely you would notdeny me the joy of telling you of mine, when it is all the happiness Ishall ever know my whole life through. You say, with truth, I believe,that you would not permit me to share your fate if I would, because youfear to make me unhappy. Yet you complain and say that I am cruel becauseI take now what joy I can at so shameful a sacrifice of womanly pride andmodesty. You say that I am cruel because I cannot give you all--myself. Iwould share your fortunes unhesitatingly were it not that I dare not giveone thought to my own happiness."
She paused for a moment to gather self-control, and when she was morecalm, proceeded with her defence: "I belong to my father and to my house,and God has appointed me to lift them from their fallen estate. I cannotgive you myself, but I do give you my love for the sheer ecstasy ofgiving, and beg you to accept it as all that I have to offer and to giveme the sweet privilege of keeping yours, which. I know is mine, that itmay warm my heart in the weary years to come. I wonder if you, being aman, can understand it all. I hardly understand it myself, but this Iknow: I have done what I have done because I could not help it, and yousay that I am cruel because you feel a part of the pain I suffer."
"No, no, I was wrong," said Hamilton, dropping to his knees before herand seizing her hand. "Forgive me and believe that my love is unselfishand that it will be yours so long as I live. All that is not evil in me,I owe to you, and I am striving to make myself more worthy of your love,even though I must surrender you to another."
"Betty told me of your good deeds when a plague was raging in Bishopgateward," said Frances, "and Baron Ned has told me that you have changedyour ways since leaving court."
"I have changed since I learned to know you," he interrupted, "and now,with my first effort to be a man, misfortunes come trooping at my heelsso fast that I know not what to do nor where to turn."
"That was one reason why I came to see you," she said. "The king seeksyour life because it is said that you threatened his. But you seem toknow your danger, and I suppose you have been warned."
"Yes, Grammont warned me. He is a very adroit person and is my friend.He stands guard for me at court, partly because he is my friend, butchiefly, I imagine, because it is the command of his king, Louis ofFrance. I do not want to bring Baron Ned into trouble. He is known to bemy friend, and the king might have him watched, so I am using Grammontas my spy at Whitehall."
"Ah, the Frenchman?" returned Frances. "It was he who dubbed me the'Duchess of Hearts.' He smiles graciously when we meet, but with all wehear about the wickedness of the French, Grammont has shown me greaterrespect than I have had from any one of the so-called gallants about thecourt."
"The day may come when I can repay his kindness," said Hamilton.
"But you must leave England at once," continued Frances. "The king's onlyshow of energy comes in a case such as this. His real reason for seekingyour life is that he believes you stand between him and me. You mustleave England without delay."
"I mean to do so, now that I have seen you," he returned. "The desire tosee you and a spirit of reckless bravado has kept me here much longerthan prudence would dictate."
At that moment voices were heard in the room above. George pressedFrances's hand to enjoin silence, fearing that the sheriffs were at hand.But presently a clanking noise was heard, and George, listeningattentively, whispered:--
"There is no further danger. Lilly is opening the lever panel, and soonthe floor will rise."
In a moment the doctor's voice came down through the wall, asking, "Areyou ready?"
"Yes," answered Hamilton. And then he led Frances back to theprinting-pres
s. Instantly the floor above their heads began to rollback, and from the depths rose Frances and Hamilton, to find Betty andme awaiting them. As they came up through the floor, Betty began tolaugh, and soon I joined her, for on Frances's eyes, lips, and cheekswere black inky patches, indicating plainly the exact spots where thebattle had raged. Through the ink spots on her cheeks ran furrowsploughed by tears, but, withal, my cousin's beautiful face was never morebeautiful.
"They have been a-kissing," whispered Betty, seriously, leaning towardsme and speaking behind her hand.
"No, no, Betty," I answered, trying to keep a straight face. But shenodded insistently, evidently much surprised and perhaps a littleshocked.
By the time Betty and I had concluded this interchange of ideas, Hamiltonand Frances were by my side.
"Why are you here?" asked Hamilton, turning to me and then to Betty.
"I had to bring him," answered Betty. "You told me to tell no one, but Ihad to tell Mistress Jennings because she cried, and I had to bring BaronNed because he stormed and said that he knew Mistress Jennings had cometo see you."
I supplemented Betty's answer by saying: "I was sure Frances had come tothe Old Swan to see you, so I followed, arriving just in time to see hercross the courtyard. I sought Betty and asked her to tell me where youwere and where my cousin had gone. Just then three sheriffs arrived,searching for you, and I had to wait until Betty got rid of them. Now,here I am, waiting to take my cousin home."
"But what if your cousin will not go home until she is ready, and doesnot desire your escort?" asked Frances.
"In that case, I should advise her to make ready at once," I replied.
"And if she does not want your advice?" returned Frances.
"In that case, I should limit my advice to a mere recommendation that shewash the ink stains from her lips, eyes, and cheeks. Master Hamilton haspretty well covered the ground with overgrown beauty patches."
Betty laughed softly, and fat old Lilly chuckled as he resumed his placeat his desk.
There being no mirror in the room, Frances put her hand to her face andfound traces of printers' ink on her fingers, whereupon she blushed andlaughed and was so beautiful that we all laughed from the sheer delightof looking at her.
"Again Baron Ned is right, Frances," said Hamilton, offering to lead hertoward the St. George door. "You must not remain. We may be surprised bythe sheriffs at any moment, in which case you would suffer in reputationand I might not be able to escape."
We passed into the tapestried room, and after Hamilton had closed theSt. George door, we paused for a moment before leaving. Presently Istarted to go, but Frances held back. I had reached the outer door andwas waiting, somewhat impatiently, when Betty came up to me, opened thedoor, drew me outside, closed the door, and whispered:--
"Don't you understand? They would be alone a moment."
"Do you think so, Betty?" I asked, laughing at her earnestness.
"I know it," she returned emphatically.
When George and Frances were alone, she said: "I shall never again giveyou cause to say that I am cruel, for I shall never again see you." Shetried to keep back the tears, but failed, and after a moment, continued,unheeding them, "If you could but know the joy this meeting has given meand the grief of parting, you would understand my sorrow for havingwronged you, and would know the deep pain of farewell."
"I have not spoken of my love for you," said George, "because it is soplain that words are not needed to express it, and because you have knownit far better than I could tell it ever since the sweet days on theBourne Path. To speak it would seem to mar it by half expression. Butit will be yours always, and I shall take it to my grave. It has beenmy redemption, and, as long as I live, no other woman shall enter myheart."
He fell to his knee, catching her hands and kissing them passionately,but she raised him, saying:--
"If it is your will, I shall refuse the Duke of Tyrconnel, regardless ofmy duty to my father and my house, and shall wait for you, happy even inthe waiting, or share your fortune, be it good or ill, from this hour.Which shall it be?"
"Soon I shall be an exile, or climbing the steps of a scaffold on TyburnHill. This must be our farewell. Do not remain a moment longer. May Godhelp me and bring happiness to you!" said Hamilton, answering herquestion all too plainly.
She drew his face down to hers and kissed his lips, till from very fearof himself he thrust her from him and led her weeping to the outer door.
When Frances came out to Betty and me, she was holding her handkerchiefto her eyes and her vizard was hanging by its chain.
Sympathetic Betty lifted the vizard, saying: "Cover your face till we goto my room. Poor mistress! It must be all awry with your love, and I haveheard that there is no pain like it."
We climbed the steps, and, as we were going across the yard, Betty twinedher arm about Frances's waist. Wishing to comfort her by changing thesubject, she said:--
"I have neither powder nor rouge in my room, but I have black patches,though I have never dared to use one, fearing to be accused of aping thegreat ladies."
"Betty, there are no great ladies so good and beautiful as you," saidFrances, trying to check her weeping. "If I were a man, you should not golong without a chance for a husband."
"Oh, I've had chances in plenty," answered Betty, proudly. "But fathersays I'm too hard to suit and will die a maid. He says I want agentleman, and--" (Here she sighed and glanced involuntarily toward me.)"He is right. I will have none other."
"Seek lower and fare better," said Frances.
"I don't know how it will all turn out," replied Betty with a sigh.The topic seemed to be alive with sighs. "A woman may not choose, andI suppose I shall one day take the man my father chooses, having no partin the affair myself, though it is the most important one in my life."
"Nonsense, Betty," returned Frances. "You are like the rest of us, andwhen the right one comes, you will seek him if need be--in a cellar. Takemy advice, Betty, when the right one comes, help him, and thank me everafter."
When we entered the house, Frances went with Betty to her room, leavingme in the tap-room, waiting to take my foolish cousin home.
To say that I was troubled would feebly express my state of mind. All mydreams of fortune for Frances and glory for her family had vanished. Idid not know at that time that she and Hamilton had agreed never to meetagain, though had I known, I should have put little faith in the compact.
The Touchstone of Fortune Page 7