Whether Mr. Betterton heard them or not, I could not say. He sat there so still, his slender Hands—white and tapering, the veritable Hands of an Artist—rested listlessly upon the arms of his chair.
"Through gloomy Clouds to sunlit Skies,
To rest in Faith and your dear Eyes."
So sang the sweet Minstrel out there in the fast gathering Gloom. I went up to the window and gazed out into the open Vista before me. Far away I could see the twinkling lights from the windows of St. James's Palace, and on my right those of White Hall. The Singer I could not see. He appeared to be some distance away. But despite the lateness of the hour, the Park was still alive with people. And indeed as I leaned my Head further out of the Window, I was struck by the animated spectacle which it presented.
No doubt that the unwonted mildness of this early spring evening had induced young Maids and Gallants, as well as more sober Folk and Gentlemen, to linger out in the open. The charm of the Minstrel and his Song, too, must have served as an additional Attraction, for as I watched the People passing to and fro, I heard snatches of Conversation, mostly in praise of the Singer or of the Weather.
Anon I espied Sir William Davenant walking with Mr. Killigrew, and my Lord of Rochester dallying with a pretty Damsel; one or two more Gentlemen did I recognize as I gazed on the moving Sight, until suddenly I saw that which caused me to draw my Head back quickly from the Window and to gaze with added Anxiety on the listless Figure of my Friend.
What I had seen down below had indeed filled my Heart with Dread. It was the Figure of my Lord Stour. I could have sworn to it, even though his Lordship was wrapped in a mantle from Head to Foot and wore a broad-rimmed Hat, both of which would indeed have disguised his Person completely before all Eyes save those of Love, of Hate, or of an abiding Friendship.
What was my Lord Stour doing at this Hour, and in disguise, beneath the Window of his bitterest Foe? My Anxiety was further quickened by the Certainty which I had that neither he nor the Lady Barbara would allow Mr. Betterton's Schemes to mature without another Struggle. Even as I once more thrust my Head out of the Window, in order to catch another glimpse of the moody and solitary Figure which I had guessed to be Lord Stour, methought that close by the nearest Shrubbery I espied the Figure of the Lady Barbara, in close conversation with her Attendant. Both Women were wrapped in dark Mantles and wore thick veils to cover their Hair.
A dark presentiment of Evil now took possession of my Soul. I felt like a Watch-dog scenting Danger from afar. The Man whom I loved better than any other on Earth was in peril of his Life, at the hands of an Enemy driven mad by an impending Doom—of that I felt suddenly absolutely convinced. And somehow, I felt equally convinced at the moment that we—I, the poor, insignificant Clerk, as well as my illustrious Friend—were standing on the Brink of an overwhelming Catastrophe.
I had thought to warn him then and there, yet dared not do so in so many words. Men in the prime of Life and the plentitude of their mental Powers are wont to turn contemptuous and obstinate if told to be on their guard against a lurking Enemy. And I feared that, in his utter contempt for his Foe, Mr. Betterton might be tempted to do something that was both unconsidered and perilous.
So I contented myself for the nonce with turning to my Friend, seeing that he had wakened from his reverie and was regarding me with that look of Confidence and Kindliness which always warmed my heart when I was conscious of it, I merely remarked quite casually: