George Cochrane Hazelton

“ His brain wove and wove moonbeam webs of intrigue as he passed through the light and shadow of the night, wherein he would lend a helping hand to France and secure gold and power for his pains. He had no qualms of conscience; for must not his estates be kept, his dignity maintained? His purpose was clear. He would bring Portsmouth and the King closer together: and what England lost, he would gain–and, therefore, England; for was not he himself a part of England, and a great part?
Then too he must and would have Nell. ”

“ He is too gallant to desert you.”
“She knows me!” thought Portsmouth. She turned sharply upon the stranger. “I have not the pleasure of your acquaintance, madame.”
“Such is my loss, not yours,” replied Nell, suavely.
“Remove your veil,” commanded the Duchess; and her eyes flashed through her own.
“I dare not before the beauty of Versailles,” continued Nell, sweetly. “Remove yours first. Then I may take mine off unseen.”
“Do I know you?” suspiciously inquired Portsmouth.
“I fear not,” said Nell, meekly, and she courtesied low. “I am but an humble player–called Nell Gwyn.” ”

“ Ah, Sire, your love for the poor player-girl is summed up in three little words: ‘I amuse you!’”
“Amuse me!” exclaimed Charles, thoughtfully. “Hark ye, Nell! States may marry us; they cannot make us love. Ye Gods, the humblest peasant in my realm is monarch of a heart of his own choice. Would I were such a king!”
“What buxom country lass,” asked Nell, sadly but wistfully, “teaches your fancy to follow the plough, my truant master?”
“You forget: I too,” continued Charles, “have been an outcast, like Orange Nell, seeking a crust and bed.” ”

“ Nell approached her timidly and spoke softly, lovingly, subserviently.
“A rival to the great Duchess of Portsmouth!” she said. “Perish the thought! It is with trepidation I look upon your glorious face, madame; a figure that would tempt St. Anthony; a foot so small it makes us swear the gods have lent invisible wings to waft you to your conquest. Nay, do not turn your rosy lip in scorn; I am in earnest, so in earnest, that, were I but a man, I would bow me down your constant slave–unless perchance you should grow fat.” ”

“ It was the evening of Portsmouth’s long-awaited bal masqué. Music filled her palace with rhythmic sound. In the gardens, its mellowing strains died away among the shrubs and over-hanging boughs. In every nook and corner wandered at will the nobility–the richest–the greatest–in the land.
None entertain like the French; and the Duchess had, indeed, exhausted French art in turning the grand old place into a land of ravishing enchantment, with its many lights, its flowers, its works of art. Her abode was truly an enlivening scene, with its variety of maskers, bright dominoes and vizards. ”

“ She spoke with the half-amused, half-indifferent air of a beautiful princess to some servant-suitor; and she was, indeed, most lovable as she leaned back in the great throne-chair. She seemed a queen and the theatre her realm. Her beautiful arms shone white in the flickering candle-light. Her sceptre was a rose which the King of England had given her.
Hart stepped back and looked upon the picture. “By heaven, Nell,” he cried, “I spoke in anger. You are the most marvellous actress in the world. Nature, art and genius crown your work.” ”

“ Buckingham was first to ascend the steps in pursuit. He was disarmed–more through the superiority of Nell’s position than through the dexterity of her wrist.
Then for the first time, she realized her danger. Her eyes staring from their sockets, she drew back from her murderous pursuers, and, in startled accents, she knew not why, screamed in supplication, with hands uplifted:
“Gentlemen! Gentlemen!”
The storm was stayed. All paused to hear what the stranger-youth would say. Would he apologize or would he surrender? ”

“ As often happens in life, when one suitor departs, another suitor knocks; and so it happened on this glorious night. The belated suitor was none other than Charles, the Stuart King. He seemed in the moonlight the picture of royalty, of romance, of dignity, of carelessness, of indifference–the royal vagabond of wit, of humour and of love. A well-thumbed “Hudibras” bulged from his pocket. He was alone, save for some pretty spaniels that played about him. He heeded them not. His thoughts were of Nell. ”

“ My sword is in a fighting mood. ’Sdeath, call forth the knight-errant who holds thy errant heart secure for one short hour!”
“The knight of my heart!” cried Nell. “Ah, Sire, you know his name.”
She looked at his Majesty with eyes of unfailing love; but the King was true to his jest.
“Yea, marry, I do,” laughed Charles, tauntingly, with a wink at his companions; “a pretty piece of heraldry, a bold escutcheon, a dainty poniard–pale as a lily, and how he did sigh and drop his lids and smirk and smirk and dance your latest galliard to surpass De Grammont. Ask brother James how he did dance.” ”

“ He had pleased her, and she was beginning to believe.
“Yes?” she said, in a way which might mean anything, but certainly that she was listening, and intently listening too.
“You have servants you can trust?” he asked.
“I have,” she replied as quickly; and she gloried in the thought that some at least were as faithful as Louis’s court afforded.
“They must watch Nell’s terrace here, night and day,” he almost commanded in his eagerness, “who comes out, who goes in and the hour. She may forget her royal lover; and–well–we shall have witnesses in waiting. We owe this kindness–to his Majesty.” ”

“ I am as weak as a woman, Moll.”
“Take heart,” said Moll, encouraging her from the rear, as Nell brandished the glittering blade in the direction of the door. “You know you faced an army to-night.”
“True,” replied Nell, her courage oozing out at her finger-tips, “but then I was a man, and had to seem brave, whether I was or no. Who’s there?” she called faintly. “Who’s there? Support me, Moll. Beau Adair is on his last legs.” ”

“ Buckingham did not relish the scene; but he was clever enough to humour the vixen, both from fear of her tongue and from hope of favours as well as words from her rosy lips.
“They’ll unite to hold thee, wench,” he suggested, with a sickly laugh, as he observed his knees well laden with oranges. “I trow not,” retorted Nell; “they can scarce hold their own. There!” and she roguishly capped the pyramid which burdened his lordship’s knees with the largest in her basket. ”

“ Marry, he is their captain, I trow; and none but a captain of men shall be captain of my little heart.”
“It is Satan and his imps,” cried Moll, attempting to draw Nell from the window.
“Tush, little one,” laughed Nell, reprovingly. “Satan is my warmest friend. Besides, they cannot cross the moat. The ramparts are ours. The draw-bridge is up.”
In a merry mood, she threw a piece of drapery, mantle-like, about Adair’s shoulders, quite hiding them, and, decapitating a grim old suit of armour, placed the helmet on her head. ”

“ She grew, indeed, quite hopeful as she observed a kindly smile play upon the Duchess’s lips and caught the observation: “Beau Adair! A pretty name, and quite a pretty fellow.”
A smile of self-satisfaction and a low bow were Nell’s reply.
“Vain coxcomb!” cried Portsmouth, reprovingly, though she was highly amused and even pleased with the strange youth’s conceit.
“Nay; if I admire not myself,” wistfully suggested Nell, in reply, with pretence of much modesty, “who will praise poor me in this great palace?” ”

“ Nell, in those dark days, I learned to read the human heart. God taught me then the distinction ’twixt friend and enemy. When a misled rabble had dethroned my father, girl, and murdered him before our palace gate, and bequeathed the glorious arts and progressive sciences to religious bigots and fanatics, to trample under foot and burn–when, if a little bird sang overjoyously, they cut out his tongue for daring to be merry–in some lonely home by some stranger’s hearth, a banished prince, called Charles Stuart, oft found an asylum of plenty and repose ”

“ I would not have it.”
“Indeed!” said Portsmouth, smiling.
“’Tis too volatile,” charged Nell, decisively. 244 “’Tis here, ’tis there, ’tis everywhere bestowed. Each rosy tavern-wench with a pretty ankle commands it halt. A kiss is the gift of God, the emblem of true love. Take back the King’s kiss; I do not wish it.”
“He does not love the King,” thought Portsmouth, ever on the lookout for advantage. “A possible ally!”
She turned upon the youth, with humorous, mocking lip, and said reprovingly: “A kiss is a kiss the world over, fair sir; and the King’s kisses are sacred to Portsmouth’s lips.” ”

“ Heedless of his royalty, bestowed by man, she, like the others, had followed in the train of the Irish spark, who was royal only by nature.
“Hang the coxcomb!” he snarled.
“’Slife, I will,” replied Charles, slyly, “an you overtake him, brother.”
“His back was shapely, Sire,” observed Rochester, with quaint humour.
“Yea, and his heels!” cried the King, reflectively. “He had such dainty heels–Mercury’s wings attached, to waft him on his way.”
“This is moonshine madness!” exclaimed Nell, with the blandest of bland smiles. “There’s none such here. By my troth, I would there were. Nay, ask Moll.” ”

“ There were those to laugh merrily at the 2 King’s wit, and at the players’ wit. There were those in abundance to enjoy to-day–to-day only,–to drink to the glorious joys of to-day, with no care for the morrow.
It was, indeed, merry old England; for, when the King has no cares, and assumes no cares, the people likewise have no cares. The state may be rent, the court a nest of intrigue, King and Parliament at odds, the treasury bankrupt: but what care they; for the King cares not. Is not the day prosperous? ”

“ Why do you not take the nosegay?” she asked, wonderingly; for she herself was so very happy that she could not see why Strings too should not be so.
“It will not feed my little ones, Mistress Nell,” he answered, sadly.
Nell’s heart was touched in an instant. “Too true!” she said, sympathetically, falling on her knee and lovingly gathering up the roses. “Flowers and Music feed naught but Love, and often then Love goes hungry–very hungry.” Her voice was so sweet and tender that it seemed as though the old viol had caught the notes. ”

“ Before he could decide upon his course, the Duchess had swept across the room, with queenly grace.
“Our hostess will pardon my eyes for wandering,” she said, undaunted; “but her abode is filled with pleasant surprises. Sire, here is a piece of handiwork.”
She knelt by the couch, and drew from under it a coat of gray, one sleeve of which had caught her eye.
Nell looked at Moll with reproving glances.
“Marry, ’tis Strings’s, of course,” continued Portsmouth, dangling the coat before the wondering eyes of all. “The lace, the ruffle, becomes his complexion. He fits everything here so beautifully.” ”

“ Buckingham’s face crimsoned. “Plague on’t! They are sour, Master Hart.” With a glance of contempt, he turned on his heel and left the room.
A triumphant smile played upon the manager’s face. He felt that he had annoyed his lordship without his intention being apparent. “A good exit, on my honour,” he muttered, as he stood contemplating the door through which Buckingham had passed; “but, by Heaven, he shall better it unless he takes his eyes from Nell. Great men believe themselves resistless with the fair; more often, the fair are resistless with great men.” ”

“ The guard!” called Portsmouth, faintly, almost overcome by the scene. In her passion that the King so revealed his love for Nell, she quite forgot that Adair was the bearer of her packet.
“I want no guard,” commanded the King. “An insult to Nell Gwyn is my cause alone.”
Nell was in an elysium of ecstasy. She realized nothing, saw nothing.
“He loves me! He loves me!” her trembling lips breathed only. “He’ll fight for Nell.”
“Come; draw and defend yourself,” angrily cried the King. ”

“ Nell’s eyes arose with an expression of sadness, while her finger pointed down–ward in the direction of what she deemed the probable abode of her departed “Nell.” Her lips twitched in merriment, however, despite her efforts to the contrary; and the hostess fell a-laughing.
“Ladies,” she cried, as she appealed to one and all, “is not le Beau a delight–so different from ordinary men?”
“I am not an ordinary man, I assure you,” Nell hastened to declare.
This assertion was acquiesced in by a buzz of pretty compliments from the entire bevy of ladies. ”

“ I see him in my mind’s eye, Sire, throw down the gauntlet in Nell’s name and defy the world for her. Fill the 283 cups. We’ll drink to my new-found hero! Fill! Fill! To Beau Adair, as you love me, gallants! Long life to Adair!”
The cups were filled to overflowing and trembled on eager lips in response to the hostess’s merry toast.
“Stay!” commanded the King, in peremptory tones. “Not a drop to a coward!”
“A coward!” cried Nell, aghast. “Adair a coward? I’ll never credit it, Sire!”
She turned away, lest she reveal her merriment, as she bethought her: “He is trembling in my boots now. ”

“ The moon-face of the inn-keeper grew slowly serious. He could not reconcile the shabby, road-bespattered garments of the strange cavalier with his princely commands.
“Body o’ me!” he muttered, lighting one by one the candles in the room, till the rafters fairly glowed in expectation of the feast. “Roundhead-beggar, on my life! Turbot and capons and the best vintage! The King could not have better than this 145 rogue. Marry, he shall have the best in the larder; but Constable Swallow shall toast his feet in the kitchen, with a mug of musty ale to make him linger.” ”

“ As Buzzard tottered through the kitchen-door and made his exit, the constable, finding his orders faithfully obeyed, steadied himself with the pike to secure a good start; and then, with long staggering strides, he himself made his way after the posse, singing loudly to his heart’s content:
“Good store of good claret supplies everything
And the man that is drunk is as great as a king.” ”

“ Rochester, who had been watching the scene in his mischievous, artistic way, drew from Portsmouth’s compliment to Adair another meaning. He was a mixture ’twixt a man of arts and letters and Satan’s own–a man after the King’s own heart. Turning to the King, with no desire to appease the mischief done, he said, banteringly:
“Egad, there’s a rap at you, Sire. France would make you jealous.”
The Duke of Buckingham too, though he appeared asleep, had seen it all.
“And succeeds, methinks,” he reflected, glancing approvingly in the direction of the Irish youth. “A good ally, i’faith.” ”

“ He had, therefore, dismissed Adair from his mind, except as a possible subject to banter Nell withal, or as a culprit to punish, if overtaken.
His restless spirit had chafed under the Duchess’s lavish entertainment–for the best entertainment is dull to the lover whose sweetheart is absent–and he had turned instinctively from the ball to Nell’s terrace, regardless of the hour and scarce noticing his constant attendants. ”

“ Never fear, landlord,” he boasted loudly. “You shall be paid, amply paid. I will pledge myself you shall be paid.”
“Pardon, sir,” falteringly repeated the landlord, rubbing his hands together graciously; “but the order is a costly one and you–”
“Do not look flourishing?” said Charles, as he laughingly finished the sentence, glancing somewhat dubiously himself at his own dress. “Never judge a man by his rags. Plague on’t, though; I would not become my own creditor upon inspection. Take courage, good Master Landlord; England’s debt is in my pocket.” ”