"And so I came," she riposted, evading a direct Answer, "to see if I had been dreaming ... if, indeed, the great and illustrious Mr. Betterton had stooped to love a Woman ... and for the sake of that Love would do a little Thing for Her."
Lies! Lies! I knew that every Word which she spoke was nothing but a Lie. My God! if only I could have unriddled her Purpose! If only I could have guessed what went on behind those marvellous Eyes of hers, deep and unfathomable as the Sea! All I knew—and this I did in the very Innermost of my Soul—was that the Lady Barbara Wychwoode had come here to-night in order to trick Mr. Betterton, and to turn his Love for her to Advantage for my Lord Stour. How carefully she had thought out the Part which she meant to play; how completely she meant to have him at her Mercy, only in order to mock and deride him in the End, I had yet to learn.
Even now she completed his Undoing, the Addling of his noble Mind, by casting Looks of shy Coquetry upon him. What Man is there who could have resisted them? What Man, who was himself so deeply infatuated as was Mr. Betterton, could believe that there was Trickery in those Glances? He sat down at his Desk, as she had desired him to do, and drew Pen, Ink and Paper closer to his Hand.
"An you asked my Life," he said simply, "I would gladly give it to prove my Love for You." Then, as she remained silent and meditative, he added: "What is your Ladyship's wish?"
"Oh!" she replied, "'tis a small matter ... It concerns the Earl of Stour ... We were Friends ... once ... Playmates when we were Children ... That Friendship ripened into a—a—Semblance of Love. No! No!" she went on rapidly, seeing that at her Words he had made a swift Movement, leaning towards her. "I pray you, listen. That Semblance of Love may have gone ... but Friendship still abides. My Lord Stour, the Playmate of my Childhood, is in sore trouble ... I, his Friend, would wish to help him, and cannot do this without your Aid. Will You—will You grant me this Aid, Sir," she queried shyly, "if I beg it of You?"
"Your Ladyship has but to command," he answered vaguely, for, in truth, his whole Mind was absorbed in the contemplation of her Loveliness.
"'Twas You," she asserted boldly, "who begged for his Lordship's pardon from the Countess of Castlemaine ... 'Twas not he who betrayed his Friends. That is a Fact, is it not?"
"A Fact. Yes," he replied.
"Then I pray you, Sir, write that down," she pleaded, with an ingenuous, childish Gesture, "and sign it with your Name ... just to please me."
She looked like a lovely Child begging for a Toy. To think of Guile in connection with those Eyes, with that Smile, seemed almost a Sacrilege. And my poor Friend was so desperately infatuated just then! Has any Man ever realized that Woman is fooling him, when she really sets her Wiles to entrap him? Surely not a Man of Mr. Betterton's keen, artistic and hot-blooded Temperament. I saw it all now, yet I dared not move. For one thing, the time had gone by when I might have done it with good Effect. Now it was too late. Any interference on my part would only have led to Ignominy for myself and the severance of a Friendship that I valued more than Life itself. Betwixt a Friend's warning and a Woman's Cajolery, what Man would hesitate? What could I, in any event, have done now, save to hold up the inevitable Catastrophe for a few Moments—a few Seconds, perhaps? Truly, my hour was past. I could but wait now in Silence and Misery until the End.