Lord Douglas had gone to the door. He opened it and stood grimly bywhilst my Lord Stour walked out, with her Ladyship upon his arm.
CHAPTER V
THE OUTRAGE
1
A great Sadness descends upon my Soul, dear Mistress, even as I write.Cold shivers course up and down the length of my spine and mine eyesfeel hot with tears still unshed--tears of Sorrow and of Shame, aye! andof a just Anger that it should have been in the power of twoempty-headed Coxcombs to wreak an irreparable Injury upon one who is asmuch above them as are the Stars above the grovelling Worms.
I use the words "irreparable Injury" advisedly, dear Lady, because whathappened on that late September afternoon will for ever be graven uponthe Heart and Memory of a great and noble Man, to the exclusion of manya gentle feeling which was wont to hold full sway over his Temperamentbefore then. Time, mayhap, and the triumph of a great Soul overoverwhelming temptation, have no doubt somewhat softened the tearingache of that cruel brand; but only your Hand, fair Mistress, cancomplete the healing, only your Voice can, with its tender gentleness,drown the insistent call of Pride still smarting for further Revenge.
2
Lord Douglas Wychwoode did not speak to Mr. Betterton after her Ladyshipand my Lord Stour had gone out of the room, but continued his restlesspacing up and down. I thought his Silence ominous.
Half consciously, I kept my attention fixed upon the street below, andpresently saw the Lady Barbara get into her chair and bid adieu to hisLordship, who remained standing on our doorstep until the Sedan wasborne away up the street and out of sight. Then, to my astonishment, hewalked down as far as the _Spread Eagle_ tavern and disappeared withinits doors.
The Silence in our parlour was getting on my nerves. I could not seeMr. Betterton, only Lord Douglas from time to time, when in hisceaseless tramping his short, burly figure crossed the line of myvision.
Anon I once more thought of my Work. There were a couple more copies ofthe Manifesto to be done, and I set to, determined to finish them. Timewent on, and the afternoon light was now rapidly growing dim. Outside,the weather had not improved. A thin rain was coming down, which turnedthe traffic-way of our street to sticky mud. I remember, just after Ihad completed my Work and tidied up my papers, looking out of the windowand seeing, in the now fast-gathering gloom, the young Lord of Stour onthe doorstep of the _Spread Eagle_ tavern, in close conversation withhalf a dozen ill-clad and ill-conditioned Ruffians. But I gave thematter no further thought just then, for my mind happened to beengrossed with doubts as to how I should convey the Copies I had made tomy Employer without revealing my presence to Lord Douglas Wychwoode.
His Lordship himself, however, soon relieved me of this perplexity, forpresently he came to a halt by the door which led to the inner officeand quite unceremoniously pushed it open and walked through. I heard hisperemptory demands for the Copies, and Mr. Baggs' muttered explanations.But I did not wait a moment longer. This was obviously my bestopportunity for reappearing upon the Scene without his Lordshiprealizing that I had been in the parlour all the time. I slipped outfrom my hiding place and carefully rearranged the screen in its formerposition, then I tiptoed across the room.
In the gloom, I caught sight of Mr. Betterton standing in one of theRecesses, his slender white hands, which were so characteristic of hisrefined, artistic Personality, were clasped behind his back. I wouldhave given a year or two of my humdrum life for the privilege ofspeaking to him then and of expressing to him some of that Sympathy withwhich my heart was overflowing. But no one knows better than I howproud a Man he is, and how he would have resented the thought that anyone else had witnessed his Humiliation.
So I executed the Manoeuvre which I had in my mind without furtherdelay. I opened the door which gave on the stairs noiselessly, thenclosed it again with a bang, as if I had just come in. Then I strode asheavily as I could across the room to the door of the inner office,against which I then rapped with my knuckles.
"Who's that?" Mr. Baggs' voice queried immediately.
"The Copies, Sir, which you ordered," I replied in a firm voice. "Ihave finished them."
"Come in! come in!" then broke in Lord Douglas impatiently. "I havewaited in this accursed hole quite long enough."
The whole thing went off splendidly, and even Mr. Baggs did subsequentlycompliment me on my clever Ruse. Lord Douglas never suspected the factthat I had not been out of the Parlour for a moment, but had heard fromthe safe shelter of the window-recess everything that had been going on.
3
When, a few moments later, I returned to the Parlour, eager to have afew minutes' speech with Mr. Betterton, I saw that he had gone. Anon,Kathleen, the maid, brought in the candles and closed the shutters. Ionce more took my place at my desk, but this time made no use of thescreen. After awhile, Lord Douglas came in, followed by theever-obsequious Mr. Baggs, and almost directly after that, my Lord Stourcame back.
His clothes were very wet and he shook the rain out from the brim of hishat.
"What a time You have been!" Lord Douglas said to him. "I was for goingaway without seeing You."
"I wanted to find out what had happened in here," my Lord Stour gavereply, speaking in a whisper.
"What do you mean?"
"The Fellow had the audacity to pay his addresses to Lady Barbara," myLord Stour went on, still speaking below his breath. "I guessed asmuch, but wanted to make sure."
Lord Douglas uttered an angry Oath, and Lord Stour continued hurriedly:
"Such Insolence had to be severely punished, of course; and I saw toit."
"How?" queried the other eagerly.
"I have hired half a dozen Ruffians from the tavern yonder, to waylayhim with sticks on his way from here, and to give him the soundthrashing he deserves."
It was with the most terrific effort at self-control that I succeeded insmothering the Cry of Horror which had risen to my lips. As it was, Ijumped to my feet and both my chair and the candle from my desk fellwith a clatter to the floor. I think that Mr. Baggs hurled a Volley ofabuse upon me for my clumsiness and chided me in that the grease fromthe candle was getting wasted by dripping on the floor. But theGentlemen paid no heed to me. They were still engaged in theirabominable conversation. While I stooped to pick up the chair and thecandle, I heard my Lord Stour saying to his Friend:
"Come with me and see the Deed accomplished. The Mountebank must be madeto know whose Hand is dealing him the well-merited punishment. MyHirelings meant to waylay him at the corner of Spreadeagle Court, aquiet place which is not far from here, and which leads into a blindAlley. Quickly, now," he added; "or we shall be too late."
More I did not hear; for, believe me, dear Mistress, I felt like onepossessed. For the nonce, I did not care whether I was seen or not,whether Mr. Baggs guessed my purpose or not. I did not care if heabused me or even punished me later for my strange behaviour. All thatI knew and felt just then was that I must run to the corner ofSpreadeagle Court, where one of the most abominable Outrages everdevised by one Man against Another was even then being perpetrated. Itore across the room, through the door and down the stairs, hatless, mycoat tails flying behind me, like some Maniac escaping from his Warders.
I ran up Chancery Lane faster, I think, than any man ever ran before.Already my ears were ringing with the sound of distant shouts andscuffling. My God! grant that I may not come too late. I, poor, weak,feeble of body, could of course do nothing against six paid and armedRuffians; but at least I could be there to ward off or receive some ofthe blows which the arms of the sacrilegious Miscreants were dealing, atthe instance of miserable Coxcombs, to a man whose Genius and Gloryshould have rendered him almost sacred in their sight.
4
As long as I live will that awful picture haunt me as I saw it then.
&nb
sp; You know the Blind Alley on the left-hand side of Spreadeagle Court,with, at the end of it, the great double doorway which gives on the backpremises of Mr. Brooks' silk warehouse. It was against that doorwaythat Mr. Betterton had apparently sought some semblance of refuge whenfirst he was set upon by the Ruffians. By the time that I reached thecorner of the Blind Alley, he had fallen against the door; for at firstI could not see him. All that I saw was a group of burly backs, andarms waving sticks about in the air. All that I heard, oh, my God! wereribald cries and laughter, and sounds such as wild animals must makewhen they fall, hungry, upon their Prey. The Ruffians, I make no doubt,had no grudge against their Victim; but they had been well instructedand would be well paid if their foul deed was conscientiouslyaccomplished.
My Wrath and Anxiety gave me the strength which I otherwise lack.Pushing, jostling, crawling, I contrived to work my way through thehideous Barrier which seethed and moved and shouted betwixt me and theMan whom I love.
When I at last kneeled beside him, I saw and heard nothing more. I didnot feel the blows which one or two of the Ruffians thought fit to dealto Me. I only saw him, lying there against the door, panting, bleedingfrom forehead and hands, his clothes torn, his noble Face of a deathlyPallor. I drew his handkerchief from his coat pocket and staunched thewounds upon his face; I pillowed his head against my Shoulder; I helpedhim to struggle to his feet. He was in mortal pain and too weak tospeak; but a ray of kindliness and of gratitude flashed through his eyeswhen he recognised me.
The Ruffians were apparently satisfied with their hideous work; but theystill stood about at the top of the Alley, laughing and talking, waitingno doubt for their Blood Money. Oh! if wishes could have struck thoseMiscreants dumb or blind or palsied, my feeble voice would have beenraised to Heaven, crying for Vengeance on such an infamous Deed. Hottears came coursing down my cheeks, my temples throbbed with pain andMisery, as my arm stole round the trembling figure of my Friend.
Then all at once those tears were dried, the throbbing of my temples wasstilled. I felt no longer like a Man, but like a petrified Statue ofIndignation and of Hate. The sound of my Lord Stour's Voice had juststruck upon mine ear. Vaguely through the gloom I could see him andLord Douglas Wychwoode parleying with those abominable Ruffians.... Iheard the jingle of Money ... Blood Money ... the ring of ribaldlaughter, snatches of a bibulous song.
These sounds and the clang of the Gentlemen's footsteps upon thecobble-stones also reached Mr. Betterton's fast-fading Senses. I felt atremor coursing right through his limbs. With an almost superhumanEffort, he pulled himself together and drew himself erect, stillclinging with both hands to my arms. By the time that the two youngCavaliers had reached the end of the blind Alley, the outraged Man wasready to confront them. Their presence there, those sounds of jinglingmoney and of laughter, had told him the whole abominable tale. He foughtagainst his Weakness, against Pain and against an impending Swoon. Hewas still livid, but it was with Rage. His eyes had assumed anunnatural Fire; his whole appearance as he stood there against the solidbackground of the massive door, was sublime in its forceful Expressionof towering Wrath and of bitter, deadly Humiliation.
Even those two miserable Coxcombs paused for an instant, silenced andawed by what they saw. The laughter died upon their lips; the studiedsneer upon their Face gave place to a transient expression of fear.
Mr. Betterton's arm was now extended and with trembling hand he pointedat Lord Stour.
"'Tis You----" he murmured hoarsely. "You--who have done--this thing?"
"At your service," replied the young Man, with a lightness of mannerwhich was obviously forced and a great show of Haughtiness and ofInsolence. "My friend Lord Douglas here, has allowed me the privilege ofchastising a common Mountebank for daring to raise his eyes to the LadyBarbara Wychwoode----"
At mention of the Lady's name, I felt Mr. Betterton's clutch on my armtighten convulsively.
"Does she----" he queried, "does she--know?"
"I forbid You," interposed Lord Douglas curtly, "to mention my Sister'sname in the matter."
"'Tis to my Lord Stour I am speaking," rejoined Mr. Betterton morefirmly. Then he added: "You will give me satisfaction for this outrage,my Lord----"
"Satisfaction?" riposted his Lordship coolly. "What do you mean?"
"One of us has got to die because of this," Mr. Betterton said loudly.
Whereupon my Lord Stour burst into a fit of hilarious laughter, whichsounded as callous as it was forced.
"A Duel?" he almost shrieked, in a rasping voice. "Ha! ha! ha! aDuel!!!--a duel with You? ... With Tom Betterton, the Son of aScullion.... By my faith! 'tis the best joke you ever made, Sir Actor... 'tis worth repeating upon the Stage!"
But the injured Man waited unmoved until his Lordship's laughter dieddown in a savage Oath. Then he said calmly:
"The day and hour, my Lord Stour?"
"This is folly, Sir," rejoined the young Cavalier coldly. "The Earl ofStour can only cross swords with an Equal."
"In that case, my lord," was Mr. Betterton's calm reply, "you can onlycross swords henceforth with a Coward and a Liar."
"Damned, insolent cur!" cried Lord Stour, maddened with rage no doubt atthe other's calm contempt. He advanced towards us with armuplifted--then perhaps felt ashamed, or frightened--I know not which.Certain it is that Lord Douglas succeeded in dragging him back a step ortwo, whilst he said with well-studied contempt:
"Pay no further heed to the fellow, my Friend. He has had hisPunishment--do not bandy further Words with him."
He was for dragging Lord Stour away quickly now. I do believe that hewas ashamed of the abominable Deed. At any rate, he could not bear tolook upon the Man who had been so diabolically wronged.
"Come away, Man!" he kept reiterating at intervals. "Leave him alone!"
"One moment, my Lord," Mr. Betterton called out in a strangely powerfultone of Voice. "I wish to hear your last Word."
By now we could hardly see one another. The Blind Alley was in almosttotal gloom. Only against the fast-gathering dusk I could still see thehated figures of the two young Cavaliers, their outlines blurred by theevening haze. Lord Stour was certainly on the point of going; but atMr. Betterton's loudly spoken Challenge, he paused once more, then camea step or two back towards us.
"My last Word?" he said coldly. Then he looked Mr. Betterton up anddown, his every Movement, his whole Attitude, a deadly Insult. "Onedoes not fight with such as You," he said, laughed, and would haveturned away immediately, only that Mr. Betterton, with a quick andunforeseen Movement, suddenly reached forward and gripped him by theWrist.
"Insolent puppy!" he said in a whisper, so hoarse and yet so distinctthat not an Intonation, not a syllable of it was lost, "that knows notthe Giant it has awakened by its puny bark. You refuse to cross swordswith Tom Betterton, the son of a Menial, as you choose to say? Verywell, then, 'tis Thomas Betterton, the Artist of undying renown, who nowdeclares war against You. For every Jeer to-day, for every Insult andfor every Blow, he will be even with You; for he will launch against Youthe irresistible Thunderbolt that kills worse than death and which iscalled _Dishonour_! ... Aye! I will fight You, my Lord; not to yourdeath, but to your undying Shame. And now," he added more feebly, as hethrew his Lordship's arm away from him with a gesture of supremecontempt, "go, I pray You, go! I'll not detain You any longer. You andyour friend are free to laugh for the last time to-day at the name whichI, with my Genius, have rendered immortal. Beware, my Lord! TheRidicule that kills, the Obloquy which smirches worse than the impioushands of paid Lacqueys. This is the Word of Tom Betterton, my Lord; thefirst of his name, as you, please God, will be the last of yours!"
Then, without a groan, he fell, swooning, upon my shoulder. Whenconsciousness of my surroundings once more returned to me, I realizedthat the two Gentlemen had gone.
CHAPTER VI
THE GATHERING STORM
1
It was after that never-to-be-forgotten Episode that Mr. Bettertonhonoured me with his full and entire Confidence. At the moment that heclung so pathetically to my feeble arms, he realized, I think for thefirst time, what a devoted Friend he would always find in me. Somethingof the powerful magical Fluid of my devotion must have emanated from myHeart and reached his sensitive Perceptions. He knew from that hourthat, while I lived and had Health and Strength, I should never fail himin Loyalty and willing Service.
Soon afterwards, if you remember, Mr. Betterton went again to Paris, bycommand of His Majesty this time, there to study and to master the wholeQuestion of Scenery and scenic Effects upon the Stage, such as ispractised at the Theatre de Moliere in the great City. That heacquitted himself of his task with Honour and Understanding goes withoutsaying. The rousing Welcome which the public of London gave him on hisreturn testified not only to his Worth but also to his Popularity.
The scenic Innovations, though daring and at times crudely realistic,did, in the opinion of Experts, set off the art of Mr. Betterton to thegreatest possible Advantage. No doubt that his overwhelming Success atthat time was in a great measure due to his familiarity with all thoseauthentic-looking doors and trees and distant skies which at firstbewildered such old-fashioned actors as Mr. Harris or the two Messrs.Noakes.
Never indeed had Mr. Betterton been so great as he was now. Never hadhis Talents stood so high in the estimation of the cultured World. Hissuccess as _Alvaro_ in "Love and Honour," as _Solyman_ in the "Siege ofRhodes," as _Hamlett_ or _Pericles_, stand before me as veritableTriumphs. Bouquets and Handkerchiefs, scented Notes and Love-tokens,were showered upon the brilliant Actor as he stood upon the Stage,proudly receiving the adulation of the Audience whom he had conquered bythe Magic of his Art.