4
You certainly will not wonder, dear Mistress, that after that I did not obey his Commands to leave him to himself. I am nothing of an Eavesdropper, God knows, nor yet would I pry into the Secrets of the Soul of the one Man whom I reverence above all others. But, even as I turned reluctantly away from him in order to go back to my Room, I resolved that, unless he actually shut the Door in my Face, I would circumvent him and would remain on the watch, like a faithful Dog who scents Danger for his Master. In this I did not feel that I was doing any Wrong. God saw in my Heart and knew that my Purpose was innocent. I thank Him on my Knees in that He strengthened me in my Resolve. But for that Resolve, I should not have been cognizant of all the details of those Events which culminated in such a dramatic Climax that night, and I would not have been able to speak with Authority when placing all the Facts before You. Let me tell You at once that I was there, in Mr. Betterton's Room, during the whole of the time that the Incident occurred which I am now about to relate.
He had remained sitting at his Desk, and I went across the Room in the direction of the communicating Door which gave on my own Study. But I did not go through that Door. I just opened and shut it noisily, and then slipped stealthily behind the tall oaken Dresser, which stands in a dark Angle of the Room. From this point of Vantage I could watch closely and ceaselessly, and at the slightest Suspicion of immediate Danger to my Friend I would be free to slip out of my Hiding-place and to render him what Assistance he required. I had to squat there in a cramped Position, and I felt half suffocated with the closeness of the Atmosphere behind so heavy a Piece of Furniture; but this I did not mind. From where I was I could command a view of Mr. Betterton at his Desk, and of the Window, which I wished now that I had taken the Precaution to bar and bolt ere I retired to my Corner behind the Dresser.
For awhile, everything was silent in the Room; only the great Clock ticked loudly in its case, and now and again the blazing logs gave an intermittent Crackle. I just could see the outline of Mr. Betterton's Shoulder and Arm silhouetted against the candle light. He sat forward, his elbow resting upon the Desk, his Head leaning against his Hand, and so still that presently I fell to thinking that he must have dropped to sleep.
But suddenly he gave that quick, impatient Sigh of his, which I had learned to know so well, pushed back his chair, and rose to his Feet. Whereupon, he began pacing up and down the Room, in truth like some poor, perturbed Spirit that is denied the Solace of Rest.
Then he began to murmur to himself. I know that mood of his and believe it to be peculiar to the artistic Temperament, which, when it feels itself untrammelled by the Presence of Others, gives vent to its innermost Thoughts in mumbled Words.
From time to time I caught Snatches of what he said—wild Words for the most part, which showed the Perturbation of his Spirit. He, whose Mind was always well-ordered, whose noble Calling had taught him to co-ordinate his Thoughts and to subdue them to his Will, was now murmuring incoherent Phrases, disjointed Sentences that would have puzzled me had I not known the real Trend of his Mood.
"Barbara!..." he said at one time. "Beautiful, exquisite, innocent Lady Babs; the one pure Crystal in that Laboratory of moral Decomposition, the Court of White Hall...." Then he paused, struck his Forehead with his Hand, and added with a certain fierce Contempt: "But she will yield ... she is ready now to yield. She will cast aside her Pride, and throw herself into the arms of a Man whom she hates, all for the sake of that young Coxcomb, who is not worthy to kiss the Sole of her Shoe!"
Again he paused, flung himself back into his Chair, and once more buried his Face in his Hands.
"Oh, Woman, Woman!" I could hear him murmuring. "What an Enigma! How can the mere Man attempt to understand thee?"