CHAPTER VI
SWEET BETTY PICKERING
When we knocked at Hamilton's door, he answered, "Come," and I entered,Betty closing the door behind me, leaving George and me together. Hewas lying on the bed, his head and arms bandaged, and a feverish gleamshining in his eyes. I went toward him, offering my hand. He rose and saton the edge of the bed, but did not accept my greeting. I was about tospeak when he lifted his hand to interrupt me, saying coldly:--
"Well, Clyde, what do you want?"
"I want to see you and help you, if I can," I answered, in surprise.
"Now that you have seen me, you may go," he returned.
I did not know the cause of his ill feeling, though I knew that somethinghad happened to turn him against me, so I stood my ground and answered:--
"I shall go if you insist, but before I go, please tell me in what mannerI have offended you. Neither you nor I have so many friends that we canafford to lose one without an effort to save him. The world is full ofmen and women, but a friend is a gift of God. I thought you had forgivenme what I said at Sundridge. Your time to take offence was then, notnow."
"I hold no ill will for what you said then in my hearing. It is what youhave done in so cowardly a manner since I last saw you, and at a timewhen I was not present to hear or to resent it."
"But what have I done?" I asked.
"You should know. I don't," he answered, sullenly.
"If neither you nor I know what I have done to offend, how are we tosettle this matter? How may I apologize or make amends?" I asked.
"You can't," he returned.
"Ah, but I can and I will, George Hamilton," I answered, determined notto let him put me off without knowing wherein I had offended. "Save whatyou heard at Sundridge, I have neither done nor said anything unfit tocome from a friend. If any man has reported me otherwise, he has lied.If any woman--well, she is mistaken."
"No one has reported you otherwise or any wise," he answered.
"Then tell me the cause of your grievance, and I may be able to explainor deny. You perhaps know by this time that I always speak the truthto you, so out with it, George. Let us settle this matter, whatever itbe--one way or the other. Friendship should not be left to dangle betweenlove and hatred. It sits squarely on the heart of an honest man, or iscast out candidly and above board. Shall I sit down?"
"Yes," he answered, rising from the bed, drawing the rug up over hisshoulders, and taking a chair not far from where I was sitting. "I sawyour cousin--"
"When and where?" I interrupted.
"Yesterday, in this house," he replied.
"Did she come to see you? And did you permit her to come?" I asked,finding it my turn to be angry.
"No, she did not come to see me, nor had I anything to do with her visitto the Old Swan. She was eating dinner with Nell Gwynn, and--"
"Was she the duchess, of whom Betty told me?" I asked, interrupting him.
"Yes, the Duchess of Hearts, as I hear she has been dubbed at court," heanswered, with an angry gleam in his eyes and a sharp note of contempt inhis voice.
"And was it for her you fought?" I asked, feeling as though I was readinga page from a story-book. "Betty told me about it, but you tell me,please?"
"Betty usually exhausts a subject, so there is no need to tell you aboutthe fight," he said. "It was really a small affair, and my wounds arenothing to speak of. I suffered more from other causes."
"Yes, yes, George. Tell me all about it," I returned, drawing my chairnearer to him. "I fear a mistake has been made, a misunderstanding ofsome sort, though I cannot imagine even the sort. Now, tell me."
"I came up from Sheerness on a Dutch boat and landed at Deptfordyesterday morning," he began hesitatingly. "After sending a messenger onbusiness in which I was deeply interested, I came to the Old Swan to geta bite to eat and to find a bed. While waiting in the tap-room for mydinner, I recognized Nelly's laugh and went into the private dining roomto see her, hoping that she might drop a word concerning another person.I should not have gone to see her, for while in France I had heard fromDe Grammont, with whom I have had some correspondence, that I was out offavor with the king and that Crofts had been trying to fix on me theguilt of a crime which he himself committed.
"Grammont wrote me, also, of the triumphs of Mistress Jennings, the newbeauty of the court, but I paid little heed to the gossip, though Iconfess I was thrown into great fear by what he wrote about her. I knewalso that the king would help Crofts make trouble for me, so I felt itwas just as well that my presence in London should remain unknown. But Idid go in to see Nelly, and, much to my surprise, found the otherperson."
It was to my surprise, also, but I said only: "Yes, yes, George. Yourstory is growing interesting. Proceed!"
After a moment, he continued: "Nelly offered to present me to the otherperson, whom she designated as 'the king's new favorite.' Naturally Isaid that I already had the honor of knowing Mistress Jennings. Then yourcousin looked up to me and remarked calmly that I was mistaken; that Idid not have the honor of knowing her, nor she the humiliation of knowingme. So I made my bow, went back to the taproom, and in a moment the fightoccurred, of which you already know."
"But what has all this to do with your grievance against me?" I asked.
He turned his face away from me, looked out the window for a minute ortwo, and answered: "These are my causes of offence, Baron Clyde. You havebrought your cousin, your own flesh and blood, to Whitehall to sell herto the king, and--"
"That is a lie, Hamilton!" I cried, springing to my feet, "and, by God,you shall answer for it as soon as you are able to hold a sword!"
"I shall be very willing," he returned, though it was evident he wassomewhat cooled by my anger. "But since you would know the cause of myill-feeling, sit down and hear what I have to say."
I resumed my chair, and he continued: "I can see no reason for yourcousin's strange aversion to me save that you have used well the time ofmy absence in traducing me, hoping doubtless to smooth the king's path byremoving me from her thoughts."
What he said did little to allay my anger until I looked into his faceand saw that by reason of his fever and his great trouble, he was notresponsible for his words. I had been on the point of giving him the liethe second time, but after a moment's consideration, my anger changed topity, and I said:--
"Forgive me, Hamilton. I am sorry I spoke in anger. You did not lie. Youhave been simply jumping at conclusions."
"Perhaps," he answered wanderingly.
"But if I tell you, upon my honor, that you are mistaken, will youbelieve me?" I asked, still feeling a touch of irritation.
He did not answer, so, thinking to give him one more chance, I continuedgently: "I have neither harbored an unkind thought of you nor spoken anunkind word of you since the day we parted at Sundridge. On the contrary,I believed that the hot moment there had welded a friendship between uswhich would last all our lives through."
He walked over to the window, stood looking out a moment, then came backand resumed his chair before me.
"I do not favor your suit with my cousin to any greater extent than I didwhen we were at Sundridge," I continued, determined that there should beno misunderstanding of my position in that respect, "though since thattime I have learned that you are a far better man than I had eversupposed. I have not recommended my cousin to the king, nor is she hisfavorite in the sense you seem to believe. I do not know the cause of heraversion to you, and, sir, I have nothing else to say except that I takeit for granted that you know I speak the truth. This is my explanation.It is for you to say whether you accept or reject it."
I rose, giving him to understand that I was ready to take my leave, buthe motioned me to resume my chair. After gazing vacantly out the windowfor a moment, he covered his face with his hands and answered:--
"I accept your explanation gladly, Baron Ned. I have wronged you. I havebeen in such turmoil of mind and conscience for so long a time that I amhardly responsible, and now I suppose I am in a fev
er because of the lossof blood."
I resumed my chair, the difference being settled between us, and in amoment we began to discuss the cause of Frances's sudden change.
It must be remembered that I knew nothing all this time of Hamilton'sremote connection with Roger Wentworth's murder. The dimly hinted rumorsthat had reached my ears I had put down to Crofts's desire for ascapegoat, and the conversation between Frances and Nelly, and Nelly'sconclusions, all came to me after this interview with Hamilton.
Failing to reach any conclusion after a long discussion of the subject,Hamilton and I began to speak on other topics, and I asked him where hehad been and what he had been doing.
"I have been at the French court, gambling furiously, and hoarding mymoney," he answered. "I have not even bought a suit of clothes, and haveturned every piece of lace and every jewel I possessed into cash."
"I supposed you were leaving off some of your old ways, gambling amongthem," I remarked, sorry to hear of his fall from grace.
"And so I have," he answered. "But I wanted a thousand pounds to use in agood cause, and felt that I was doing no wrong to rob a very bad Peter inFrance to pay a very good Paul at home. I have paid the good Paul, and amnow done with cards and dice forever."
"I'm glad to hear you say so, George," I returned.
"Yes, I'll tell you how it was," he continued. Then he gave me an accountof the killing of Roger Wentworth, the particulars of which I thenlearned for the first time. I allowed him to proceed in his narrativewithout interruption, and he finished by saying: "I learned that sameevening that a thousand pounds had been stolen from a traveller. Isuspected Crofts, Wentworth, and Berkeley of the robbery, but I did notknow certainly that they had committed the crime, since I did not seethem do it. The next morning I learned that a man had been killed byhighwaymen, and as I felt sure that the murder had been committedin the affair I had witnessed, I went to France because I did not wantto be called to testify in case criminal proceedings were instituted.In France I learned that the murdered man was young Wentworth's uncle.
"Of course, I did not receive a farthing of the money, but I almost feltthat I was accessory before the fact because I had not hastened toprevent the crime, and after the fact because I had made no effort tobring the criminals to justice. Churchill told me flatly that I should bealone if I tried the latter, and said that he was not so great a fool asto win the enmity of the king by attempting to bring the law upon Crofts.You know Churchill's maxim, 'A fool conscience and a fool damned.'"
"There is wisdom in it," I answered.
"I suppose there is," returned Hamilton. "I wanted the thousand pounds topay Roger Wentworth's widow, so I won it in France, brought it toEngland, and yesterday sent it by a trusted messenger to Sundridge. Ofcourse the widow does not know where it came from."
"It was like you, George," said I. "One does not do a thing of that sortfor sake of a reward, but, believe me, the reward always comes."
"It was the right thing to do," he answered. "But instead of the rewardcomes now the keenest grief I have ever known, the loss of the smallregard in which I was one time held by the only woman I ever loved orever shall love."
He stopped speaking, but I fancied he had not finished, so I did notinterrupt him. I had so much to say in return that I did not care tobegin until I had a clear field. He was becoming restless, and I couldsee that the fever was mounting rapidly. After a long pause hecontinued:--
"But, in a way, the loss of her regard is the least of my troubles, andI should bear it with equanimity, for if I am honest with her, I wouldnot desire to keep it, as I can bring her no happiness. It is the loss ofmy respect for her, the knowledge that I was wrong in deeming her betterthan other women, the humiliation of learning that I was a pitiable dupein giving my love to one who could give herself to Charles Stuart, thathurts."
I saw that he was trying to suppress his excitement, but it soon got thebetter of him. He rose from his chair, drew the rug closer about him, andwalked rapidly to and fro across the room a minute or two. Being near mychair, he bent down to me, looked wildly about him to see that no one waseavesdropping, and whispered:--
"I intend to kill the king just as soon as I'm out of this. Then God orthe devil, I care not which, may finish me."
At that moment Betty came in, followed by one of the maids carrying ourdinner. I asked George to eat with me, but he refused and lay down on thebed, drawing the rugs up to his chin and shaking in an ague. The maidleft us, but Betty remained, evidently expecting to wait on us andincidentally to talk, for she dearly loved to relieve her mind.
As much as I liked Betty, I asked her to leave us, and when she was gone,I drew my chair to George's bedside, leaving the dinner to cool.
"First, I want to tell you again," said I, "that Frances is not theking's mistress, nor ever will be."
"Do you know, or do you believe?" he asked.
"I know," I answered, and followed up my assertion with a full account ofher life at court, the king's infatuation, at which she laughed, hisoffer of a pension, which at first she refused, the respect in whichevery one held her, and the wisdom with which she carried herself throughit all.
"Ned, you're as great a fool about her as I was," he returned, shakinghis head. "Do you suppose Charles Stuart would give her a pension with noother purpose than kindness or justice? Be sane! Don't be a fool!"
"I say nothing of his purposes; I speak only of her conduct. But I shallnot argue with you. If you find any pleasure in your opinion, keep it," Ianswered, knowing that I could not reason with a man who was half crazy.
"I shall," he replied sullenly.
"But there is another matter in which I believe you will agree with me,"I continued. "I have discovered the cause of my cousin's ill feeling--ofher change respecting yourself."
He rose from his bed, demanding excitedly: "What is it? Tell me, tellme!"
"You have just told me that you and Churchill were walking at aconsiderable distance behind Crofts and the others when Roger Wentworthwas killed."
"Yes, yes," he returned. "Perhaps as much as two hundred yards."
I watched his face closely to study the effect of my next bit ofinformation, and after a long pause, asked, "Do you know that Frances wasin the coach?"
"No, no! Hell and furies! In the coach when Wentworth was killed? My God,tell me all about it, man!" he cried, clutching my arm, and glaring at mewith the eyes of a crazy man.
"Yes," I answered. "And she tells me she recognized one of the robbers bythe light of the coach lanthorn, though she refused to describe the manshe saw and will not be induced to talk about him. Possibly you were theunlucky man. If true, can you wonder that she hates you?"
He sat down on the edge of the bed, musing, then fell back on the pillowwith a great sigh, and muttered as though speaking to himself:--
"I can wonder at nothing save my marvellous ill luck. This tale points amoral, Baron Ned. If one belongs to the devil, one should stand by one'smaster. Hell is swifter in revenge than heaven in reward."
"It is only the long run that tells the tale," I answered, taking his hothand to soothe him. "Heaven always wins, and your reward will come."
"Ah, yes, the long run is all right if one can only hold out," heanswered, gripping my hand and breathing rapidly. He was almost indelirium. "But I'll take the short run, Baron Ned." Here his voice rosealmost to a scream: "I'll take the short run, Ned, and will kill theking! Then to hell after him by way of Tyburn Hill!"
He sprang to me, grasped my shoulders fiercely, and spoke as one in afrenzy: "I was right, Ned. She is all I thought she was at Sundridge.When I first knew her I doubted my senses. I did not know there was apure woman outside of a convent, but when I learned to know her I changedmy mind. Now comes this accursed Charles Stuart! His house has been abane to England ever since the spawn of the Scotch courtesan first cameto London. But his reign will be short!"
He was becoming delirious, so I induced him to lie on the bed while Iwent downstairs to find Betty. When
I found her, I told her that thefever was mounting to Hamilton's brain, and that I feared he would soonbecome violent.
She sent a boy to fetch a physician, then turned to me, saying:--
"I'll go up to him. I believe I can quiet him."
So we went back to George's room and found him out of bed, prowling aboutlike a caged wild thing, tossing his arms, and shouting his intention tokill the king.
"You must go back to bed, Master Hamilton," commanded Betty in her soft,low voice.
He caught her around the waist and said, laughing, "You're a good girl,Betty."
"I hope I am, sir. But you must go back to bed," she answered.
"And you're pretty, too. Pretty and good don't usually go together," saidGeorge, drawing her close to him.
"No, but you must go back to bed, Master Hamilton, or you will be veryill," she pleaded.
"I'll go for a kiss, Betty," he answered, bending over to take it. Butshe put up her hands to ward him off.
"I'll give you the kiss, Master Hamilton, if you insist. But it will beonly a bribe to induce you to do what is for your own good, and if youtake it, I shall never come back to your room again."
"Ah, Ned, here's another good girl!" exclaimed George, releasing Betty."There are two of them in the world! Who would have suspected it? Keepyour kisses for your husband, Betty."
"Yes, Master Hamilton," she answered demurely, giving me a luminousglance, all unconscious of its meaning. The glance was my first hint thatperhaps Betty had at times been thinking of me.
"All right! Here's to bed, my girl," said Hamilton.
She smoothed the bed covering and turning to leave the room, said, "I'llcome back when the physician arrives."
I could easily see that Hamilton was going to have what the old womencall a "bad night," so I asked Betty to sit with him, and she consenting,I went by river to my lodging in Whitehall, where I collected a fewnecessary articles in a bag and returned quickly as possible to the OldSwan. When I reached George's room, I found Betty at her post. Thephysician had given Hamilton a quieting potion, and he was resting,though at intervals he broke out, shouting his intention to kill theking.
During nearly two weeks Hamilton lay moaning and raving, sweet, dearBetty rarely leaving his side for more than a few minutes at a time. I,too, clung to my post faithfully, but at least a part of my motive indoing so was selfish, being the joy I found in Betty's company. At theend of two weeks George began to recover rapidly, and I was dismissedalong with the physician.
When I returned to Whitehall, I found that my Lord Sandwich, under whomI held my place as Second Gentleman of the Wardrobe, had been seeking me.The king had gone to Sheerness on business of the navy two weeks before,and the Earl of Sandwich, being at that time Lord Admiral, was to go downthe river on a summons from his Majesty. Much against my will, I wascompelled to go with him, and, by reason of this enforced absence, wasaway from London during the next month or two, when I very much wished tobe there.
I saw Frances only twice during George's illness, and as she made noinquiries about him, I concluded that sober thought had brought back herold aversion. Therefore I did not mention his name nor try to correct hererror, feeling that it was better for her to remain in her present stateof mind.
I was convinced that Hamilton's threats against the life of the king werebut the ravings of a frenzied brain, and that he had no intention ofkilling Charles, but I also felt sure that trouble would come of it,since he had been overheard by several persons. The treason was certainto reach the king's ear, and if it did, Hamilton's life would be injeopardy. But of that in its turn.
* * * * *
Immediately on my return to London I went down to the Old Swan to seeGeorge, of course having Betty in mind. In truth, Betty had been in mindmost of the time and much to my regret ever since the day I left her.
Even if I had not been plighted to Mary Hamilton, I could not have askedBetty to be my wife. She would not be happy in my sphere of life, and Icould not live in hers. The painful knowledge of this truth did not inany way help me to put her out of my thoughts, but rather made my longingfor her all the greater. Since I had learned to know her well, I thoughtI meant honestly by her. Still she was a barmaid, and I could not alwaysbring myself to respect her as she deserved. Time and again I resolvedin all sincerity never to see her again. Since I could not marry her, Iwould gain nothing but unhappiness myself and perhaps misery for her bycontinuing my suit.
But when back in London, I persuaded myself that it was my duty to seeGeorge, and tried to shut my eyes to the fact that Betty was the realcause of my anxiety.
When I reached the Old Swan, I soon found Betty, and there could be nomistake in my reading of the light I saw in her eyes.
After talking with her a minute or two in the tap-room, I asked her totell me of Hamilton, and she said hesitatingly that he had left the innnearly two months ago.
"Do you know where he is?" I asked.
She answered hesitatingly, "N-o-o-o."
I saw that she did not want to be questioned, so I remained chatting withher for an hour, and returned to Whitehall, very proud that I hadrestrained my tongue during the interview.
* * * * *
On the afternoon following my interview with Betty, I was sitting inmy room adjoining my Lord's private closet in the Wardrobe, trying invain to think of something besides Betty, when I heard a peal of merrylaughter, which I recognized as Nelly Gwynn's. Immediately following, Iheard the deep, unmistakable voice of the king. They had just entered myLord's private closet, between which and my room there was a loosely hungdoor, permitting me to hear all that was said.
"Ah, Rowley," said Nell. "You have been away from me a long weary time,and I know you have forgotten me."
The king denied the charge, and doubtless took his own way to convinceher.
"While you have been away, I have found a new friend to console me," saidNelly.
"Ah!" exclaimed the king, with suddenly awakened interest.
"Yes," returned Nelly.
"Is your new friend a man or a woman?" asked Charles.
"A woman, of course, oh, jealous heart! You know there is but one man inthe world for me--your ugly self."
"Who is your friend?" asked the king.
"I'll give you three guesses. You admire her greatly," said Nelly.
"Indeed, it must be the Bishop of Canterbury's lady," suggested hisMajesty.
"Surely!" exclaimed Nell, with a merry laugh. "But guess again."
When the king had exhausted his three guesses, she said triumphantly, "Mynew friend's name is Frances Jennings."
"Ah, indeed!" exclaimed the king. "She will have nothing to say to myfriends, Lady Castlemain and others, and I supposed she would be too niceand proper to choose you for her friend."
"No, no," returned Nelly. "She is my first friend among the court ladies.We have had several rare adventures together, and don't you know, I havediscovered that she is in love."
"With whom?" demanded the king.
"With your friend and mine, George Hamilton," returned Nelly.
"Ah, well, he is in France, and we shall see that he remains there," saidthe king.
"No, he is not in France. He is in London," said Nelly. "I saw him at theOld Swan just before you left for Sheerness, nearly two months ago."
"Odds fish!" swore his Majesty. "We'll find a mission for him abroad."
"You'll have to find him first," said Nelly. "I've been down to the OldSwan to see him, but the girl there tells me he left the tavern long ago,and I suspect he is at his brother's house near St. Albans. But I'll tellyou further."
Then she told the king what Frances had said about a mysterious manwhom Nelly asserted Frances both hated and loved. She told him alsothat Frances had recognized one of the highwaymen who had robbed RogerWentworth, and closed her narrative with an account of my cousin'srefusal to recognize Hamilton and her eagerness to explain to him afterthe fight.
"So you see, Rowley dear, I put this and that together and concluded thatFrances Jennings loves George Hamilton because she can't help it, andhates him because she recognized him as one of the murderers of RogerWentworth. She did not say that this is all true, nor will she talk onthe subject, but one may see through a millstone with a hole in it."
"Perhaps Hamilton's complicity in the crime may save us the trouble ofsending him abroad," said the king. "We may be able to hang him instead."
"Surely you would not hang him for so small an offence? The murdered manwas only a tanner!" cried Nelly, fearing she had brought trouble onHamilton by her gossip.
"Of course, if there were no reason save the demands of grasping justice,we should not trouble ourselves to look into the matter," said Charles,"but stern justice, if used and not abused, is often a ready help tokings."
Charles laughed, doubtless showing his yellow fangs, as was his habitwhen uttering a cruel jest, and Nelly began to coax him, hoping to avertthe unforeseen trouble she had set afoot. At last the king promised thathe would take no steps against Hamilton, but I knew that royal promiseswere never worth the breath they cost in making.
* * * * *
As soon as Nelly and the king left my lord's closet, I hastened to theriver and took a boat for the Old Swan, intending to find Hamilton and towarn him.
When I told Betty that I wanted to see Hamilton on an affair of greaturgency, she admitted that she knew where he was, and that she hadrefused to tell me when I asked her the last time because he had exacteda promise from her to tell no one.
"But I shall see him," said Betty, "and if you will come back to-morrow,I'll tell you where he can be found if he consents."
During the last month or two a _News Letter_ had been circulated bythousands throughout London and Westminster, in which the character ofthe king had been assailed with great bitterness. At first Charles paidno attention to the new journal, but soon its attacks got under his skin.I was told that efforts had been made to discover the publisher and hisprinting shop, but that nothing could be learned save that the sheetswere left at taverns and bookstalls by boys who declared they found themin bundles in the churchyards.
It was impossible to find even the boys. The bookstalls and taverns wereordered not to sell the _News Letter_, but the people hated the king sobitterly that the circulation increased rather than diminished after theroyal interdict, and as the sheets sold for the extravagant price of oneshilling, it was impossible to stop the sale, since every one who handledthem was making a rich profit.
Judging from many articles appearing in the _News Letter_, I suspectedthat Hamilton was a contributor, if not the editor. If either, he waspiling up trouble, should he be discovered.
On leaving the Old Swan, I went back to the palace and met Frances at theHolbein Gate, cloaked and bonneted, ready to go to see her father.
I offered to accompany her, and we took a coach at Charing Cross for SirRichard's house.
My conscience had troubled me because I had done nothing to clearHamilton of her unjust suspicions. Up to that time I had found noopportunity to speak to her privately after my return from Sheerness,nor had I fully made up my mind to try to convince her that George wasnot guilty of Roger's death. But when she and I entered the coach to goto her father's house, I broached the subject:--
"You remember, cousin," I began, "what I said to you in Hamilton'spresence on the Bourne Path?"
"Every word," she replied. "It was all true, and I shall be grateful solong as I live."
"But what I said at that time did not seem to cause you to hate him?" Icontinued, wondering what her reply would be.
"No," she answered, with slight hesitancy. "It did not."
"Is the aversion you now feel toward him the result of what I said atthat time?" I asked.
"No, no," she returned quickly. Then suddenly checking herself, shedemanded, "Why do you speak of my aversion to him, and what do you knowabout it?"
I told her that I knew all the particulars of her meeting with Hamiltonat the Old Swan, of her refusal to recognize him and of the fight thatensued. I told her of my talk with him, at the beginning of his sickness,two weeks before I left for Sheerness, and then without giving her timeto guard against surprise, I asked:--
"Do you believe he was implicated in the Roger Wentworth tragedy?"
She looked at me a moment, and answered defiantly: "I do not believe it.I know it. I have not spoken to any one else about it, nor shall I speakof it again, but I saw him, and of course I hate him." She turned herface from me, and I fancied there were tears in her eyes.
"You know that I do not favor Hamilton as your suitor?" I asked.
"Yes," she answered, still with averted face.
"And if I were to tell you that you were wrong, that Hamilton had no partin the robbing and killing of Roger Wentworth, would you believe me?"
"No, no!" she exclaimed, turning to me quickly, with an angry gleam inher eyes. "I tell you I saw him, and I thank God that at last I know himas he is! After he had fought so bravely to defend me at the Old Swan, myheart softened for a moment, and I forgot that he was a murderer. He isbrave and strong, but--why should you try to excuse him now, when youspoke so plainly at Sundridge? I thought you were too severe then; nowI know that you told me only a part of the terrible truth. My softenedmood lasted only a short time after I left the Old Swan, and I cared notwhether he lived or died."
Hoping to put her right, I told her of the wager at the Leg Tavern, whichin my opinion fully explained George's presence on the St. Albans road,but she declared that it was a flimsy excuse, and said she did not wantto talk further on the subject.
Knowing that I could not convince her at that time, I bore away from thetopic and called her attention to the impropriety of taking dinnerunescorted at a public house.
"I know all about it, cousin," she returned, "but a good character isof no value in Whitehall. It is an incumbrance. As to my conscience,you need have no fear. When I first came to court, I supposed I shouldencounter dangers. I was mistaken. I am as safe here as I should be in myfather's house. All the pitfalls and snares are to be seen by any one whowishes to see them. It is the sleeping spider that catches the fly, notyour bold, brazen hunter, clumsily alert."
I did not want to be preaching constantly to Frances, so we talked onother subjects till we reached my uncle's house, where I remained,singing, dancing, and very merry with Frances, Sarah, and Churchill, tillwe heard the night watch call, "One o'clock and raining!"
Churchill and I slept at Sir Richard's and returned to Whitehall the nextmorning.
During the following week I went to see Betty frequently under thepretence of wishing to see Hamilton, but she told me (honestly, Ibelieved) that he had left the Old Swan and that she did not know wherehe was. So I repeated my visits every day, each visit growing longer andI growing fonder. Betty, too, seemed to be looking for my visits with adegree of pleasure that both pleased and grieved me, for with all mylonging for the girl, I never lost sight of the fact that if I were theright sort of man, I should not wish to gain her love to an extent thatwould mean sorrow to her.
If I were the right sort of man? The question has always set mewondering. The man who never doubts that he is the right sort of man maybe put down as all bad, though the right sort of man is not necessarilyall good.