CHAPTER XIII
FRANCES DELIVERS THE TREATY
George went to the Shield Gallery in Whitehall at ten o'clock the nextmorning, where he found his Majesty, the Lord Chancellor, and a halfscore of the king's creatures, including Berkeley, Wentworth, Crofts,Jermyn, and others of like quality.
These were the men with whom George had to deal. He was known intimatelyto each of them, and was hated most heartily by all save the Chancellor.
When George entered the Gallery, the king took his seat in a great chairof state on a dais at one end of the room, while his counsellors rangedthemselves on either side. I, with a dozen other gentlemen, had beencommanded to be present, not as advisers, but as attendants on the kingto give dignity to the occasion.
George, having been sent to England secretly, had brought no retinue,since it was desired by every one connected with the affair that hispresence should attract as little attention as possible and thus avoidalarming London. When George went to Whitehall, he was accompanied onlyby De Grammont and a gentleman of the count's household.
While George knelt before his Majesty, asking leave to speak for theFrench king, his master, I could not help thinking of the strangecontiguity of antagonisms so frequently observed in one's journey throughthis life, nor could I help wondering what would be the fate of the boldman kneeling before the king if his Majesty could but see through theAbbe's disguise.
But I had little time for reflection, since George was not one whoallowed matters to drag. On receiving permission to speak, he roseand went to the point at once in badly broken English, which I shallnot try to reproduce.
"I shall not take up your Majesty's time with idle words," said theAbbe, glancing at a written memorandum which he held in his hand. "Mymaster, King Louis, sends greeting to his royal brother, and hopes thatno cause of difference may ever arise to darken the blue sky of peacethat now hangs over two kings, potent as are your Majesty and my master,and two nations, happy, rich, and powerful as are the noble realms ofFrance and England. Believing the possession by either monarch of citiesor territory within the other's realm to be a constant menace to thismuch-desired peace and amity, my master, the king of France, sends me,his humble ambassador, with plenary authority, the instrument of whichnow lies with your Majesty's noble Lord Chancellor, to make offer to yourMajesty of the great sum of one hundred thousand pounds for the good cityof Dunkirk, which is on territory contiguous to my master's domain."
"The great sum of one hundred thousand pounds!" demanded Charles,contemptuously. "Does your master consider one hundred thousand pounds agreat sum to pay for so great a city as Dunkirk?"
"It is a great sum to pay, your Majesty," returned the Abbe, withmeekness in his manner, but boldness in his words, "when it is consideredthat the king of France might have the city of Dunkirk for the meretaking, did he not love your Majesty."
"Might have it for the mere taking, say you?" cried Charles, with a flashof imitation fire. "Odds fish, man! What do you suppose we should bedoing while he was taking it?"
"Sending ships across the Channel at a great cost in money and life toyour people, your Majesty," coolly, though meekly, answered the Abbe.
"Of that my people will not complain," answered Charles, still burning apinch of red powder. "Their blood and their gold will be given gladly todefend my possessions abroad. My people are brave and do not fear deathfor the sake of their king, I would have you to know, Sir Abbe."
"Noble praise, your Majesty, and beautiful in the mouth of a king whostands ready to march at the head of his own army, and to help fight thegood fight of his own cause," returned the Abbe, bowing with deephumility.
"Sir, your words are bold and are in no way mitigated by your humblemien!" exclaimed the king. "If you have no other offer to make, theaudience will end, at least for the present."
"May I crave one moment more?" asked the Abbe.
"Yes, but be brief," returned the king.
"My instructions, your Majesty, are to leave London not later thansunrise on the day after making my king's offer. That will be to-morrowmorning, when I shall hasten back to Paris, whence no other messengerwill come. Twenty thousand troops are now within three hours' march ofDunkirk. Your Majesty's ships cannot reach the city in time to save it. Ibeg to say that I have delivered the entire message intrusted to me by myaugust master, and therefore crave your royal permission to withdraw."
The king lifted his right hand in assent, and the Abbe moved backward,bowing himself from the room. De Grammont, who had come with him, met himat the door, and immediately they went to the count's house. When theywere gone, the king dismissed all save his counsellors, and I being atliberty to leave, hastened to her Grace's anteroom. As I passed the door,my hat in my hand, I bowed to Frances, who was watching me intently. Shesmiled, glanced significantly toward my hat, nodded her head to let meknow that she understood, and I passed by, glad that she had the couragewhich I so sadly lacked.
Evidently Frances lost no time in doing her part with the king, for twohours later a page came to me in the Wardrobe, saying that the kingwished to see me immediately. I made all possible haste, and when Ientered the king's closet, he said:--
"Close the door, Clyde," but seemed unable for the moment to say more.
He could not hide his excitement, and presently began telling me in aperemptory manner that he had a very delicate piece of business for myhands. He did not seem to feel sure of his ground, and spoke with abravado altogether unnecessary, as though he would say I should dohis will whether it suited me or not, rather than in words of respectfulcommand. I could see easily that his bravado was assumed for the purposeof forestalling any objection on my part. Of course he did not suspectfor one moment that I surmised what he wanted, or his words would havebeen: "Odds fish! To the Tower with him!"
After several stammering efforts, he began: "I want you to see Du Boise,whom you will find at De Grammont's house, and tell him that I acceptthe offer he made this morning. I understand he brings the treatiesfrom France already written. At eight o'clock this evening they are tobe placed in the hands of your cousin, Mistress Jennings, together withthe bill drawn on Backwell of Lombard Street, for the sum of one hundredthousand pounds. Deliver my message immediately and secretly. Let noone know that I have spoken to you on the subject. After you haveseen Du Boise, go to Mistress Jennings and give her word from the Abbedesignating where and at what hour she is to receive the documents. Isuggest eight o'clock, that they may not be in her possession too long.But wait a moment!"
He went to a writing desk standing near the river window, beckoned to me,and continued excitedly, "Sit here and write at my dictation."
I sat down before the desk, took a quill, and awaited the king'spleasure. After a moment's thought he dictated as follows:--
"To MONSIEUR L'ABBE DU BOISE,
"Ambassador Extraordinary from his Majesty,King Louis of France:
"Out of love for my royal brother, King Louis, and for the purpose ofmaintaining the peace and amity now existing between the glorious realmsof England and France, I accept his Majesty's offer to purchase thecity of Dunkirk, communicated to me at this morning's audience. You willtherefore place in the hands of the bearer, Baron Clyde, two copies of atreaty consummating this transaction which I understand you have alreadywritten out. With said copies you will also place a bill drawn in thesum of one hundred thousand pounds on one, Edward Backwell, goldsmith,Lombard Street, with whom I am told the funds lie, and for which thiswriting shall be your full acquittance.
"The treaties shall be fully executed by you on the part of your master,in accordance with the terms of your instrument of authority now restingwith my Lord Chancellor. When said treaties and said bill come to me, thetreaties will be signed, and the copy intended for your master will bereturned to you this evening so that you may carry out your instructionsby leaving at dawn tomorrow morning. To the which I give my reluctantconsent and request that you leave England without further ceremony,believing that your duty to your mas
ter mounts superior to the mereobservation of courtly usage in formal leave-taking.
"Signed by the king's own hand,
"CHARLES R."
"You will see your cousin immediately after your consultation with DuBoise, and arrange to deliver the documents to her hands privately at thehour of eight o'clock."
"I beg your Majesty's indulgence for one question," I said, assuming aswell as I could a reluctant manner.
"Yes, yes, but be quick," returned the king.
"It is this," I continued stammeringly. "Is my cousin to deliver thedocuments to you after the hour of eight o'clock?"
"That is no affair of yours, and your question is impertinent," answeredthe king. "Obey my commands and keep your lips sealed, if you wouldoblige your king, save trouble to yourself, and perhaps be rewarded. Hearme, Clyde! I will brook no interference in this matter. Do you fullyunderstand?"
"Yes, your Majesty. To obey the king's command is the highest duty Iknow," I answered, hanging my head.
"Ah, that is better. Now you may go," said the king, motioning his handtoward the door.
Frances had been expeditious in doing her part, and I was wondering whatshe had done to work so great a change in the king's mind in so short atime. So I made all haste to see Du Boise in order that I might thesooner see my cousin and question her. I found Hamilton downcast, butwhen I gave him the king's letter, his gloom turned to anger.
"No, no!" he cried, springing from his chair. "Never! Never! Frances isbuying the king's complaisance, God knows at what price! It shall not be!The cur! The coward! I'll kill him before the hour arrives!"
"Listen to me, George," I insisted, "and for once in your life, don'tbe a fool. You will ruin us all if you lose your head at the momentwhen success is waiting for us. You, yourself, suggested this plan, and,thanks to my cousin's courage, it is working out beautifully. I don'tknow what she has to propose, nor what she is going to do. I know nothingof her plans, but I trust her. Can't you?"
"Yes, yes, I trust her," he replied, growing more calm. "But I do nottrust him. She will go to him alone, expecting, doubtless, to escape, butshe does not know the risk she is running."
"Do not fear for her," I answered assuringly. "She will be prepared todefend herself. Make all things ready, and I'll go to learn of Frances'splans. You may be sure she will provide some way for her own protection.When a woman of brains sets out to hoodwink a man, he usually gets whathe deserves, even though he be an absolute king."
"Well, be off, and back again at the earliest possible moment," saidGeorge, resigning himself, under compulsion, to the hard conditions thesituation imposed.
When I left Hamilton, I hastened to Frances and found her expecting me.She told me her story in a few words:--"The treaty and the bill ofexchange, I believe you call it, are to be placed in my hands to-nightat eight o'clock," she said. "I am trembling now, but I shall be calmwhen the time comes. I am to take the documents to the king's closet atnine o'clock, and am to enter by way of the privy stairs from the river."
"Yes, yes, I know," I answered, and then I told her briefly of the king'sorders.
"You to bring me the papers!" she exclaimed, laughing softly.
"Yes," I answered. "It completes the jest, if it prove to be one. Buttell me, what do you propose to do when you go to the king's closet?"
"You see it was this way," she began, sitting down and smoothing out herskirts; "I so arranged it that I met his Majesty soon after I saw youpass with your hat in your hand. He was ready enough to take me for awalk in the garden, and when he fell under the influence of the sun andthe flowers, he began, as usual, to protest his love. I gave him fullrein,--full rein, Baron Ned,--and after he had talked and protested agreat deal, I told him that he might prove his regard for me if he would.He asked me in what manner, and said that he would do whatever I asked.
"'It is this, your Majesty,' I answered hesitatingly. 'By accident I metthe Abbe du Boise at Lilly's house yesterday. It seems he had heard ofthe kind friendship your Majesty has shown me, and doubtless hoping touse me, offered me ten thousand pounds if I succeeded in inducing yourMajesty to accept the French king's offer for the city of Dunkirk. Eversince my interview with him, I have been trying to see your Majesty,hoping that you might find the information useful, and desiring yourMajesty to know that I was to receive the money in case you accepted,else I might seem false to my king.'"
I laughed and said: "I knew you would be able to wheedle him. A littlewoman with a big motive is like faith, in that she can move mountains."
"Yes, yes, it is easy enough," she answered. "He took my hand, and Ipermitted him to hold it for a moment, then withdrew it, you know, asthough impelled by modesty. After duly hanging my head and casting downmy eyes in a very spasm of shyness, I told the king that I hoped he wouldaccept the French king's offer, and reminded him that it might avert theterrible consequences of war, in addition to putting ten thousand poundsin my poor empty little purse. He said he would put the ten thousandthere for me, but I refused, saying that I had never before made arequest of him, and that if he did not see fit to grant this, I shouldnever make another, but should leave Whitehall at once."
"Ah! the little woman with a big motive pouts if the mountain moves tooslowly. I should like to have heard you talking to him," I said.
"And perhaps you would have spoiled it all," she answered. "We walkeddown the path for perhaps three or four minutes, but at length the kingspoke, stammeringly, and said that if I would bring the treaty to hiscloset this evening at nine o'clock, he would sign it."
"The dog!" I exclaimed.
"After a long pause, I answered hesitatingly, telling him that I couldnot accede to his request, and that I withdrew my petition, cravingpermission to leave Whitehall to-morrow. Thereupon he fell into anecstasy of entreaty, and when we parted he was very happy, for I hadpromised to take the documents to him at nine o'clock. He said I was tocome to the privy stairs leading from the river to his closet and go upto him for his signature and seal, when he would execute the treatyimmediately and send it by a trusted messenger to the Abbe du Boise."
"Ah, but how will you get away from the closet?" I asked.
"If he will permit me to be the messenger, I can easily escape, butfor fear he will not, you and George shall act as my watermen. Have aboat waiting for me near the garden stairs at nine o'clock, and we'll goby river to the king's private stairs. I'll go by myself to his closetand will come back to you by some means with the signed treaty. And,Baron Ned, have Betty with you. A woman is always braver with a womanalongside, and Betty always brings us good luck. Then, too, she can steerthe boat; she knows the river as she knows her father's house. Remember,nine o'clock, and be sure that Betty is with you."
I went back to George, and when I told him of Frances's plan, he said:--
"If she does not return from the king's closet as soon as we shall havereason to expect her, we'll fetch her and make a page of history byleaving a dead king."
"In which case the English people would hang us and then bless us. It istheir fashion. We should be as immortal as Guy Fawkes," I answered;laughing to keep my courage up.
George stood in revery for a moment and answered as if he were speakingto himself:--
"But what will happen if we are overpowered in the king's closet? Healways keeps a ruffian guard in his ante-chamber."
"In that sad case, Frances must kill herself and we shall die fightingunless we preferred Tyburn Hill a day or two later," I answered. "It isall as plain as day. Why do you not forget that failure is possible? Ihave never known you to stand in doubt; why do it now on the eve ofvictory?"
"Frances! Frances! Frances! She is why I stand in doubt. My own life isnot worth a farthing, but I have no right to bring her into thisfrightful peril."
"She has no fear, and the sooner you drive it out of your heart thebetter it will be for our cause."
"I suppose you are right, Baron Ned," he responded with a sigh; "if we goat this without fear or doubt we can't fail. Go ahe
ad, my friend. May Godforgive us if we are wrong and help us in any case." And I left himhurriedly, lest I should be infected with his deadly fear.
I next saw Betty, much to my delight, and of course she was eager to helpus.
"Know the river?" she exclaimed, in answer to my question. "I know it aswell as I know Gracious Street. I have shot the arches of London Bridgewith the spring tide going out, and there is many a waterman who wouldnot dare try it. If need be, I'll take you through the middle arch, wherethe flambeau hangs, and land you at Deptford or Sheerness, or Holland, Icare not which." So there was no fear in her heart. If courage was thetouchstone of fortune, we were sure to win, for there was no fear in anyheart save George's, and ordinarily he was the bravest of us all.
When all arrangements were made, even to engaging a small boat, which wasto wait for us at Westminster stairs, I took to my bed for the rest ofthe day. At six o'clock I received the treaties and the bill of exchangefrom Hamilton and delivered them to Frances. Then I went to fetchBettina.
Grammont had offered to go with us, when we explained what we were to doand the danger in doing it, and we were glad to have him and his sword,for we might find ourselves in straits where we should need both. He andHamilton were to meet me at the head of King's Street. Each of us was tocarry a long sword and to have a pistol, charged and primed, in his belt.
After leaving the parchments with Frances, I hastened to bring Betty upto Whitehall, and, shortly after eight o'clock, met Du Boise and DeGrammont at King's Street arch, all of us wearing full vizards.
We walked down to the boat, De Grammont frequently taking notice ofBettina, for, despite her full vizard and an enveloping cloak, she wasfar too attractive not to rivet his attention.
When we reached Westminster stairs, we found the boat awaiting us. We didnot want the watermen to go with us, so I bought the boat and dismissedthem.
We entered the boat, and when Bettina took the stern oar, De Grammontasked:--
"Who is she--the lady on the stern thwart? Can she steer the boat? Doesshe know the river?"
"Yes, to all of your questions, count," I answered.
"'Yes' doesn't answer the first question," he returned.
"It isn't to be answered," I replied curtly, and he returned with anapologetic "Pardon!"
Just before nine o'clock we took Frances aboard at Whitehall GardenStairs and drifted slowly down to the king's privy stairs, from whichthe narrow flight of steps rose to the king's closet in the story above.
When we drew up at the privy stairs, Frances stepped out of the boat tothe landing and whispered:--
"I shall arrange in some way to return, just as soon as the king signsthe treaty, but if you hear me scream, come to my rescue. I am preparedto defend myself, and shall give the signal only when I must."
After climbing the narrow steps, she entered the king's closet and foundhim alone. Almost at the same instant she caught the sound of heavy stepsin the adjoining room and heard the clang of steel on a bare oak floor.This demonstration was made, I suppose, by the king's order, for thepurpose of intimidating Frances lest she prove rebellious.
In response to her frightened look of inquiry, the king said, "Only ahalf dozen troopers whom I always keep in my anteroom to be at hand ifneeded."
"A wise precaution, your Majesty," returned Frances, bringing herselftogether as quickly as possible. "Here are the copies of the treaty, yourMajesty, and here is the bill on Backwell. The Abbe du Boise instructedme to ask your Majesty to sign his copy of the treaty immediately andreturn it to him. He waits in a boat at the foot of the privy stairs, andis anxious to go down the river to his ship before the tide turns."
"Waits at the foot of the stairs?" exclaimed the king. "Odds fish! Whatis he doing there? But it shall be done at once. I had the Great Sealbrought to me, so that I might fully execute the treaty without delay. Isupposed the Abbe would desire its immediate return as soon as the moneywas paid."
"Yes, your Majesty," answered Frances, growing short of breath fromexcitement, "he is waiting below for it."
The king sat down at his desk, signed the treaty, affixed the Great Seal,returned the parchment to its envelope, and, turning to Frances, said:--
"Now, the first kiss, my beauty!"
"Not now, your Majesty. Please wait till I return," she answered, takingthe treaty from the king's hand without his leave. "I do not want todisarrange my vizard till after I have returned the parchment to theAbbe. I fear the watermen will recognize me."
"Who is in the boat with the Abbe?" asked the king.
"His servant, a French gentleman, and two watermen. He insisted onbringing me, reluctant, doubtless to trust me with the parchments andthe bill," she answered, lying with the ease of a Lombard Street hosier.
But the king, growing suspicious because of her haste, caught her by thearm, saying: "You remain here. I'll return the treaty."
She drew her arm from the king's grasp and started so hurriedly towardthe door that the king took alarm and followed her, crying out:--
"I tell you I'll send the packet by other hands. You remain here."
She did not stop, so he caught her again by the arm, and spoke sharply:"You are to remain with me. Do you hear? I'm not to be played with. I'llsend the packet--"
But she broke from his grasp, hastily opened the door, and foundherself not at the head of the privy stairs, but in the king's anteroom,surrounded by a half dozen men in armor one of whom attempted to seizeher. Instantly she sprang back to the king's closet, screaming, not as asignal to us, for she had forgotten our agreement in that respect, but ingenuine fright.
Her screams brought George, De Grammont, and myself to the door at thehead of the stairs in less time than one could count ten. We drew ourswords, and I tried to open the door, but found it locked.
"The oars! The heavy oars!" whispered De Grammont.
I ran down the stairs to the boat and was about to ask Bettina to hand methe oars, when she, anticipating me, whispered:--
"I heard some one call for the oars, so I threw them out. There theyare!"
There they were, true enough, halfway up the water stairs, ready for myhand, because of Betty's quickness.
In less than ten seconds I was at the top of the stairs again, and withintwenty seconds more we had battered down the door with our heavy ashoars. In the king's closet we found Frances, surrounded by men at arms,and the king crouching in a corner, barricaded by small pieces offurniture.
George fired his pistol, and one of the six men fell, whereupon severalpistol shots were fired, filling the small room with powder smoke, butinjuring no one so far as we knew. De Grammont found an opening inanother man's armor, and four stood between us and Frances. Then the realfight began--four against three. This would have been heavy odds in anopen field, but it was not so formidable in a small room almost dark withsmoke. Above all, the troopers were fighting for pay; we were fightingfor life.
The four men charged us fiercely, and while we were fighting just insidethe room, Frances worked her way from behind our antagonists toward thebattered door and was about to make her escape when one of the king's menstruck her a cowardly blow with the hilt of his sword, and she fell tothe floor at the head of the stairs.
"You and Hamilton take her to the boat," cried De Grammont, speaking tome, but continuing to fence, as though by instinct. "I'll hold the doortill you call; then I'll run. The next best thing to fighting isrunning."
I regretted the use of Hamilton's name, as it would betray his presence,if overheard, which otherwise would not have been suspected, all of usbeing well masked. But I had no time to waste in vain regrets, so Georgeand I lifted Frances from the floor and helped her down to the boat,leaving De Grammont just outside the battered door, defending himselfnobly against four armed men and keeping them inside the king's closet.He seemed to be enjoying himself, for he was laughing, bowing, parrying,and thrusting, as though he were at a frolic rather than a fight. Thereis but one people on earth in whose blood is mingled fire and i
ce--theFrench.
When we reached the water, we found that the running tide had carried theboat a short distance down-stream, but Bettina was standing on the sternthwart, bending this way and that in her endeavor to scull back to thelanding by means of the steering oar. Every drop of blood in Bettina'splump little body was worth its weight in triple fine gold to us thatnight, for she brought the boat back to us without delay, and Georgehelped Frances aboard while I ran to the foot of the privy stairs,shouting loudly:--
"Come on, Berkeley! Come quickly!"
Usually I think of the right thing to say a fortnight after theopportunity, but this once the name Berkeley came to me in the nick oftime, and I evened my score with its possessor for many a dirty trick hehad put upon me. To suspect was to condemn with Charles, and I knew thatif he heard me call Berkeley's name, that consummate villain would sufferthe royal frown. And so he did, never having been able to explain, nordeny, satisfactorily to the king, his presence at the head of the privystairs that night. But to return to the fight.
De Grammont heard my summons, came down the stairs three steps at a time,and sprang into the boat from the landing.
"The oars! The oars!" cried Hamilton.
"Death is between them and us!" cried De Grammont.
"Let us go!" cried Betty. "I'll scull the boat with the steering oar!"
There was not a man in the boat who knew the art of propelling it withone oar. Truly Betty was our salvation that night.
I shoved the boat off, Betty turned its head down-stream, and away weshot. We were not ten paces from the water stairs when five men camerunning from the privy stairs to the landing. I recognized the king, whowas in the lead. As they reached the water edge of the landing, I hearda splash. Majesty, in his eagerness to overtake us, had gathered toogreat headway and had landed, if I may use the word, in the water.
The other men, being in armor, were compelled to doff their iron beforejumping in to save the king. The night was dark, but we were so near thelanding that I saw two of the men begin to throw off their armor, andpresently I heard two splashes, followed quickly by two pistol shots inour direction. In our direction, I say, because both of the balls struckour boat.
After the pistol shots, all was quiet, but I knew that one of the king'sbarges, with a dozen men at as many sweeps, and a score of men at arms,would soon follow us. I made my way to the stern thwart of our boat,where Betty was sculling for dear life, taking her course diagonallyacross the river toward the Southwark bank. After we had passed the swiftcurrent in the middle of the river, which I thought she had been seeking,I asked:--
"Why do you not keep to the centre, Betty? You are making toward theother bank."
"Yes," she replied, with what breath she could spare. "We'll find a standof boats tied to poles almost opposite Temple Bar stairs. There we maytake a pair of oars. I'm afraid I can't hold out at this much longer."
We soon found the boat stand, and, with little ceremony, appropriated apair of oars, leaving a crown on the thwart of the rifled boat.
Hamilton and I quickly adjusted the stolen sweeps in the oar-locks, Bettysat down on the stern thwart, guided the boat to the swift water of thecentre, and immediately we sped toward London Bridge at a fine rate.Presently, as we had expected, we heard the rapid, regular stroke of thesweeps in the king's barge, and in a few minutes it was so close behindus that we could see the men at the sweeps. When they saw us, they firedtheir pistols at us, but we did not hear the bullets splash in the water,so we knew they did not have our range.
My greatest fear of the bullets was for Bettina's sake, she being in therear and more exposed to the enemy's fire than we who were at the sweeps,but I could not leave my oar to take her place, nor could I have steeredthe boat had I done so, being unfamiliar with the river. All I could dowas to hasten our stroke, which George and I did to our utmost, and soonthe welcome beacon over the centre arch of London Bridge came into view,dimly at first, but brightening with every stroke of our sweeps. As weapproached the Bridge, De Grammont nervously called our attention to thedanger ahead of us.
"Yes, we'll take the middle arch, and I shall enjoy seeing the king'sbarge follow us," I answered, with what breath I could spare.
"Take the middle arch, and the tide running as a river in flood?" criedDe Grammont, speaking French, being too excited to sort out Englishwords. "Never! Never! Let me out!"
"Do not fear, count," I answered. "Our pilot--"
"Our pilot! Ah, sacrament! We are lost! Our pilot is a mere girl!"
"But a wonder, count, a wonder. There is no waterman on the river inwhose hands we should be safer," I replied, expressing my confidence instronger terms than it really deserved. To shoot London Bridge when thetide was running out, as it then was, would give pause to the hardiestwaterman. A misstroke of the steering oar, the slightest faltering in thehands that held it, the mere touch of the boat's nose against the jaggedrocks and logs of the pier, and all would be lost.
We could not stop to put De Grammont on shore, and presently recognizingthat fact, he sat down in resignation in the bow of the boat, remarkingwith a sigh, as though speaking to himself:--
"Ah, the beautiful land!"
By that time the flambeau was blazing not two hundred yards ahead of us.The current had caught us, and the waves of the running tide came almostto the gunwale of the boat. Bettina had risen to her feet, leaving herhat, vizard, and cloak in the bottom of the boat, and was standing on thestern thwart, her back towards us and her face up-stream. Behind us,perhaps three hundred yards, came the king's great barge, ablaze withtorches. The men in the barge had ceased firing, supposing, probably,that we should be forced to land above the Bridge, and should then becomean easy prey. But we had Bettina with us; they had not. Besides ours,there was not another one in the world.
On came the flambeau over the middle arch. It seemed to be coming towardus rather than we going toward it. Nearer lowered the black dim outlineof the houses on the Bridge, with here and there the flicker of a candlein a window, magnified to starlike brightness by distance.
Clearer and clearer came the dash and the splash, the roar and theturmoil of the waters pouring through the terrible death's door, themiddle arch. Yet over the middle arch was the only flambeau on LondonBridge, placed there because it was the broadest of all the spans, andwe dared not attempt to pass under the Bridge in the dark.
But worse than the middle arch ahead of us was the king's barge followingclose behind us. It, too, was in the current, though its twelve sweepscould easily have taken it ashore. I suppose that pride and eagerness toovertake us prompted its captain to follow in our wake. At any rate, hecontinued and was narrowing the distance between us with each stroke ofthe sweeps. When I asked Bettina if she thought they would attempt thearch, she replied:--
"I hope not," then laughing softly, "--for their own sakes. The royalbarges are not built to shoot the bridge."
As we approached the bridge, Betty turned her eyes backward toward itevery few seconds, taking her bearings and bringing the boat's nose nowa little to the right, now to the left, and again holding it straightahead.
When we were within twenty yards of the middle arch, she told us to ceaserowing, and we obeyed, leaving the boat in her hands.
The roar of the falling waters, tumbling in a cataract on the furtherside of the Bridge, frightened me, but if Betty heard it she did not fearit, for she began to sing the plaintive little French lullaby we had sooften heard, and De Grammont, leaning forward, touched me on the back ashe whispered:--
"God gives us an angel to steer our boat."
The next moment the water caught us in its mighty suck, just under theupper edge of the arch, and almost before we were aware that we hadstarted through, our boat made a plunge on the lower side, the perilousmoment was past, and we were floating in comparatively still water twoscore yards below London Bridge.
Then Captain Bettina resumed her seat on the stern thwart, and we dippedour oars.
We were turning about to get und
er way again, when De Grammont criedout:--
"Mon Dieu! They are lost! There they go under! Ah, Jesu!"
We all turned our eyes toward the Bridge, but were too late to see thebarge. It had sunk in four fathoms of water, and every man aboard hadgone down with it.
We backed water, resting on our oars, and presently the overturned bargecame to the surface and floated past us, telling its sad story, "Perishedin a bad king's bad cause,"--a story written on almost every page of theworld's history.
A short distance below the Tower, we met a large boat belonging tothe ship in which George had come from France, which was waiting offSheerness to take him back. The boat had been plying between Deptford andthe Bridge, looking for George, since early evening. We recognized it byits long sweeps, and when we hailed it, we received the password and drewalongside.
All this time Frances had been allowed to sit in the bottom of the boat,she having assured us that she had taken no injury, but as we approachedthe French boat she arose, and when I asked her if she was hurt, shesaid, "No."
When I asked her if she had the treaty, she replied, holding out her handto George:--
"Yes, here it is. It would have been a pity, indeed, to have lost itafter all our trouble."
As we drew alongside the French boat, Hamilton whispered to Frances:--
"You have nothing to fear from the king. This affair shows him in a lightso ridiculous that he will not care to make it public, and besides, hewill not want to return the hundred thousand pounds. You will be safe inLondon, and I shall write to you just as soon as I return to France. IfKing Louis's reward proves to be what I expect, I pray you come to me,for, after this affair, I dare not set my foot in England."
At that moment we touched the other boat, and the Frenchmen grappled usto hold us alongside. George had risen and was about to step aboard, whenFrances, catching him by the arm, drew him back and sprang aboard theFrench boat ahead of him, saying:--
"I shall not wait for a letter. I am going with you now."
George followed her into the other boat, and as it drew away, I saw himbending low to kiss her hand. Then he shouted "Good-by!" and soon wecould see nothing but the black water between us.
Betty began to weep, and after a moment I began to swear, for I did notlike to see my cousin go off in this manner. De Grammont relieved hismind by a shrug of his shoulders, took the oar that George had abandoned,and without a word we started up-stream again.
CHAPTER XIV
HER LADYSHIP'S SMILE
We landed at the Old Swan stairs below the Bridge on Lower Thames Street,and went to the end of the Bridge, where De Grammont waited till I hadtaken Bettina home.
When I returned to the Bridge, the count and I took coach, and after arapid journey across silent London, I arrived at the palace just as OldTom of Westminster was striking eleven.
I climbed over the porch to my closet and reached there none too soon,for I was hardly in bed when my door opened and in walked the kingfollowed by two men bearing candles. I pretended to be in a deep sleepand when aroused sprang from my bed seemingly half dazed and ready todefend myself, till the king spoke, when, of course, I was humble enough.
"How long have you been here?" demanded the king.
"All night I suppose, your Majesty; what time is it now?"
"Past eleven!" the king answered.
"In what may I serve your Majesty?" I asked.
"By telling me the truth!" he said, glaring at me and whining out hiswords. "Do you know anything about the attack on my closet this evening?"
Nothing is ever gained by denying, so I took a leaf from woman's logic,and answered his question by another.
"An attack on your Majesty's closet?" I cried. Then after a long pause,and with a manner of deep injury, I demanded: "Has anything untowardbefallen my cousin? I carried out your Majesty's instructions withoutobjection or protest. I intrusted her to your care, and it is my rightand my duty to demand an account of her and to hold your Majestyresponsible for her welfare."
He looked at me for a moment with a hang-dog expression on his face, buthe could not stand my gaze, so he turned on his heel and left the roomwithout another word.
He was not convinced of my guilt, nor would he believe me innocent.Evidently the royal verdict was "not proven." But in any case I knew thatmy favor at court was at an end.
During the next week I constantly importuned the king to tell me whathad become of my cousin, and intimated my intention to make trouble interms so plain--for I knew the king's favor was lost to me--that my LordClarendon was instructed to offer me a sum of money to say nothing moreabout the matter. I agreed to accept the money, it was paid, and Iremained silent.
Frequently the difference between an acted lie and a spoken lie is thedifference between success and failure. Then, too, the acted lie has thisadvantage; there is no commandment against it. We should congratulateourselves that so many pleasant sins were omitted on Sinai.
At the end of a week after our great adventure I went to the country, andwithin a fortnight returned to find that my place in the Wardrobe wastaken by another, and my place in the king's smile by the world at large;at least, it was lost to me.
When a wise courtier loses his king's smile, he takes himself out of hisking's reach. Therefore I cast about in my mind for a London friend whowould like to possess my title. I thought of Sir William Wentworth,rather of his wife, and suggested to her that for the sum of thirtythousand pounds I would resign my estates and title to the king, if SirWilliam would arrange for their transfer to himself. The transferdirectly from me to him was not within the limits of the law. It couldonly be made through the king by forfeiture and grant. But the like hadhappened many times before, and could be accomplished now if the kingwere compensated for his trouble.
Wentworth broached the subject to our august sovereign who, inconsideration of the sum of ten thousand pounds "lent" by Sir William tohis Majesty, and because he was glad to conciliate a prominent citizen ofLondon, that city being very angry on account of the sale of Dunkirk,agreed to the transfer, and the baronetcy of Clyde with the appurtenantestates passed to the house of Wentworth, where, probably, they broughttrouble to Sir William and joyous discontent to his aspiring lady.
Aside from the fact that I knew the king's ill temper was cumulative, Ihad received a hint, coming through Castlemain's maid to Rochester, thatif I remained in England, the king would despoil me. Then, too, I hadother reasons for making the sale. I was sick of England's fawning on apoor weak creature, as cowardly as he was dull, and almost as dull as hewas vicious, and longed to flee to the despotism of strength as I shouldfind it in France under Louis XIV. There was still another reason, ofwhich I shall speak later.
Three days after the consummation of my sale to Sir William Wentworth,Count Hamilton returned, and, learning of the manner in which I haddisgraced myself, withdrew his challenge, sending De Grammont to tell methe sad news. He would not honor me by killing me.
"Why did you sell your title and estates?" asked De Grammont.
"I have several good reasons, my dear count," I answered. "The firstis that I should have lost them had I not sold them. While the kingdoes not know that I was connected with the fight on the privy stairs,he doubtless suspected it, for I have lived in the royal frown eversince. The second reason is that I hate Charles Stuart, and, admiring atleast the strength of your king's tyranny, desire to live in France. KingLouis says he is the state, and by heaven, he is! Charles Stuart knowsthat he is nothing, and he is right!"
"Give me your hand, baron!" cried De Grammont, a smile of satisfactionspreading over his face. "I now tell you my secret. No one else knows it.The purchase of Dunkirk has bought for me the smile of my master. I havebeen recalled to Versailles. I return to La Belle France within afortnight! Come with me! I'll show you a king in very deed, and promisefurthermore that his smile shall be for you!"
"I can't go with you, my dear count," I returned gratefully. "But Ipromise to see you soon in Paris. I suppose yo
u will take with you theelder Mistress Hamilton, to whom I understand you have long been plightedin marriage, or will you return for her?"
"O-o-oh! Return for her, dear baron, return for her!" answered the count,shrugging his shoulders.
To close the chapter of De Grammont's life in England, I would say thathe kept the secret of his recall to France, and one night after dark lefthis house near the Mall, taking a coach to Dover without saying toMistress Hamilton when he would return.
But Mistress Hamilton had two brothers still in England, Count Anthonyand James, who, catching wind of De Grammont's exodus, took horse and asmall escort, made all possible speed, and came up with De Grammont'scoach some six or eight leagues east of London.
Count Anthony rode up to one door of the coach, while James brought hishorse to the other.
"Good morning, count," said Anthony, bending down to the coach window.
"Good morning, my dear count," returned De Grammont, blandly.
"Is there not something you have forgotten, count?" asked Anthony.
"Odds fish! Yes! I forgot to marry your sister," answered De Grammont,appropriating the king's oath, and apparently astounded at his ownforgetfulness. "Thank you, dear count, for reminding me. I'll go backto London and do it at once."
"Your parole?" asked Anthony.
"Yes, the word of a De Grammont," answered the count, whereupon theHamiltons lifted their hats and galloped home, knowing certainly that DeGrammont would follow.
De Grammont reached London soon after sun-up, and, true to his word,married Miss Hamilton, blessed his stars ever afterward for having doneso, and gave her no cause for unhappiness save a French one.
Soon after the sale to Wentworth, I received a letter from George tellingme that King Louis had not only made him rich, but had appointed himGovernor of Dunkirk, with promise of further advancement. George said,also, that the French king, having heard of my part in the Dunkirktransaction and my disgrace with my king, had offered to advance myinterest if I would go to France. In a postscript to the letter, whichwas much longer than the letter itself, Frances told me how she andGeorge had been married immediately on landing in France, and were livingvery happily in Paris, where they would remain until George should takeup the government of Dunkirk.
So it had all fallen out just as one might have expected to find itin a story-book. George had been proved by Fortune's touchstone, andher Ladyship had chosen him for her smile. He had won the long odds.
What remains to be told is simply the denouement of my own affairs.
* * * * *
At the time of my transaction with Wentworth I said nothing to Bettinaabout the sale of my title and estates, but when I heard that our friendswere safe and happy in France, I went down to the Old Swan, with morefear than I should have thought possible, to broach a certain matter,which was very near my heart, to Betty and her father.
I knew that in so far as Betty herself was concerned, I should find notrouble, but I also knew that I might find difficulty in persuading herto leave her father, for duty was a tremendous word in Betty'svocabulary.
When I reached the Old Swan, policy and fear each told me that itwould be safer to attack Betty and her father separately. The odds oftwo against one, in this case, I feared would be too great for me toovercome. So I led Betty to her parlor,--rather she led me,--and after apreliminary skirmish, I told her I had come to see her on a mostimportant piece of business.
"I'm glad to see you, whatever brings you, Baron Ned," she answered,smoothing out her skirts in anticipation of an interesting budget ofnews.
"But I'm no longer 'Baron Ned,' Betty," I informed her.
She asked a hundred questions with her eyes and eyebrows, and I hastilyanswered them by telling of the sale to Wentworth.
"Ah, I'm so sorry," she answered, "and I'm so glad, too, that I couldcry. You don't seem so much above me nor so far away."
"That was my chief reason for selling my title and estates," I answered,reaching forward and taking her hand, which for the first time she didnot withdraw. "I sold them, Betty, for a large price, but my reason forso doing was one that could not be measured by money. I want you for mywife, Betty, and my title, at least, stood between us. I should havegiven it away if I could not have sold it, because I want you, Betty,more than anything else in all the world."
"Ah, please don't, Baron Ned!" she cried, bringing her handkerchief toher eyes. "It can't be. I'm not so selfish as to take you at your word."
I was sitting on the cushioned bench by the wall, and she was in a chairfacing me, within easy reach, so I caught her wrists and drew her to me,whispering:--
"Sit here, Bettina, by my side, and tell me why it cannot be, for Ipledge you my honor I am not to be denied." She resisted for a moment,but at last sat down beside me, and I put my arm about her, despite herfluttering struggle. "Now, tell me why, Bettina. I need not tell you thatyou have my love. You know it without the telling."
She nodded her head "Yes," and covered her face with her hands.
"And am I wrong in believing that I possess your love?" I asked.
She shook her head to indicate that I was not wrong, and the littlegesture was as good as an oath to me. After her confession, she wouldnot dare to resist me, nor did she, save to say pleadingly:--
"Please, Baron Ned, it cannot be."
Tears were trickling down her cheeks, and I could see that she was ingreat trouble.
"I do not ask you to come to me now," I said, "but you may take a longtime, if you wish--a day, or two, or even three, if you insist. ButBetty, I am not to be refused, and you may as well understand now and forall that you are to be my wife. But tell me, Betty, what is your reasonfor denying me at this time?"
She dried her eyes, sat erect, and answered in a voice full of tears:"Well, you are so far above me that the time might come when you wouldbe ashamed of me."
"Nothing of the sort, Betty. Drop that argument at once. You know you donot mean it. You are not speaking the exact truth. There is no sweetness,no beauty, like yours."
"Do you really mean it, Baron Ned?" she answered, smiling up to me.
"Yes, yes, every word and a thousand more," I answered.
"But I am so unworthy," she said.
"You're pretending, Betty," I answered, and I argued so well that sheabandoned her position.
"Now, give me another reason, Betty," I demanded, feeling encouraged bythe success of my first bout. To this she answered with great hesitancy,murmuring her words almost inaudibly:--
"I could not leave father."
That was the reason I had feared, and when I drew away from her, showingmy great disappointment in my face, she took one of my hands in both ofhers, saying:--
"Not that I should not be happy to go with you anywhere, but you see I amall the world to father. He would die without me."
Here, of course, I might expect tears, nor was I disappointed. I, too,found the tears coming to my eyes, for her grief touched me keenly, andher love for her father showed me even more plainly than I had everbefore known the unselfish tenderness of the girl I so longed to possess.It was hard for me to speak against this argument of hers; for it waslike finding fault with the best part of her, so for a little time wewere silent. After a minute or two, she glanced up to me and, seeing mygreat trouble, murmured brokenly:--
"If you think I am worth waiting for, and if you will wait till father isgone, I will go with you, and your smallest and greatest wish alike shallbe mine. And when you become ashamed of me, I'll--"
"I'll not wait, Betty," I answered, ignoring the latter half of herremark. "I have a far better plan. I am going to France, and you andyour father shall go with me."
"Ah, will you take him?" she cried, falling to the floor on her knees,creeping between mine, and clasping her hands about my neck. Her sweet,warm breath came to me like a waft from a field of roses, the fluffyshreds of her hair tingled my cheek, thrilling me to the heart, while thetouch of her hand and the clasp of
her arm carried me to heaven.
Then she laid her head on my breast, her lips came close to mine, and shemurmured with a sigh:--
"Now, Baron Ned, as you will."
I told Betty to call Pickering, and when he came in I related my story.I told him how Betty and I were of one mind, how George had prospered inFrance and had invited me to share his good fortune, how I wanted to goto France and to take Bettina with me, and how I wanted him to sell theOld Swan and go with us to the fair land across the Channel, where hiswealth would give him station such as he deserved.
Immediately he objected, saying that the scheme was impossible. He saidthat he could sell the Old Swan for a great sum to Robbins, of the Dog'sHead, and that all he possessed, aside from the inn, was in gold, lodgedwith Backwell, but for all that, my plan could not be considered for amoment.
"My dear Pickering, hear my side of the case," I insisted, determined towin this last bout as I had won the others. "You love your daughter andwould be unhappy if she were to leave you alone in the world?"
"Indeed I should be," he answered firmly. "I will not consider yoursuggestion. I will not. I will not."
"She is more generous than you," I returned, "and refuses to leave you,though she would be very unhappy if you force her to remain."
"I suppose you think so," he replied sullenly.
"I know so," I answered, "and can prove it by Betty." Betty nodded herhead "Yes," and I continued: "You will not be unhappy in France with us.You will be happy. Yet you refuse to be happy save in your own stubbornway, even though you bring grief to the tenderest heart in the world. Butcome, come, Pickering! This will not do! I tell you, I'm not to berefused!"
Pickering lapsed into stubborn silence, and as there is no arguing with aman who will not argue, I determined to take another course; so I spokesharply:--
"Since you will not be reasonable, I have another plan to suggest: Iwill give up my prospects of fortune in France, and will live here inthis rotten Old Swan as long as you live, never taking Betty from yourside. If you do not give her to me under these conditions, I will takeher away without any conditions. Eh, Betty?"
Betty hung in the wind for a moment, then nodded slowly:--
"Yes."
Pickering covered his face with his hands for a moment, then looked up tome and asked:--
"Would you do that, baron? Would you come down from your high estate toour lowly condition for the sake of my poor little girl?"
"Yes, Pickering," I answered.
Then after a moment's thought, he said: "I'll sell the Old Swan and gowith you to France."
Betty took my hand, then she grasped her father's, drew him down to herand kissed him.
So Betty and I were married in the little chapel at the Southwark endof London Bridge, and off we went to our friends in France, whereGod blessed us and we were very happy. We had all been tried by theTouchstone of Fortune, and had won her Ladyship's smile! May God comfortthose on whom she frowns!
NOTE
Baron Clyde seems to be the only writer of the period of Charles II whomentions the part taken by George Hamilton and Frances Jennings in thesale of the city of Dunkirk, but, of course, the particulars of thatdisgraceful affair would have been kept a secret from all save those whoparticipated in it.
It is said that Nell Gwynn, John Churchill, and Sarah Jennings wereyounger than Baron Clyde indicates. Therefore there are many discerningpersons who hold that he was "idealizing" when he wrote of them being atcourt at the time Dunkirk was sold.
There appears to be some ground for the criticism.
But in all essential respects the baron's history is held, justly, to betrue to facts and conditions, and that, after all, is the main thing.Exact truth is evasive; therefore the virtues of approximation are not tobe deprecated.
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