"Who is it?" he asked, peering into the darkness below.
I heard Sir William Davenant's voice give reply.
"Killigrew and I are down here, Tom. What in the Name of —— is the matter?"
"Come round to my rooms, Davenant," Mr. Betterton replied; "and bring as many friends with you as you can."
He was standing in the Bay of the Window, and his Figure, silhouetted against the Light in the Room, must have been plainly visible to the crowd outside. That a number of People had assembled by now was apparent by the Hum and Hubbub which came to us from below. Unable to restrain my Curiosity, I too approached the open Casements and peered out into the Gloom. Just as I thought, quite a Crowd had collected down there, some of whom were making ready to climb up to the Window by way of the Gutter-pipes or the solid stems of the Ivy, whilst others were trooping down the narrow little Alley which connects Tothill Street with the Park at the base of Mr. Betterton's house. There was a deal of talking, laughing and shouting. "Tom Betterton is up to some Prank," I heard more than one Person say.
8
Perhaps You will wonder what was my Lord's Attitude during the few minutes—it was less than five—which elapsed between the Instant when Mr. Betterton first threw open the Casements, and that when the Crowd, headed by Sir William Davenant and Mr. Killigrew, trooped down the Alley on their Way to this House. To me he seemed at first wholly uncomprehending, like a Man who has received a Blow on the Head—just as I did from his Fist a moment ago—and before whose Eyes the Walls of the Room, the Furniture, the People, are all swimming in an Ocean of Stars. I imagine that at one time the Thought flashed as Lightning through his Mind that this was but the culminating Outrage, wherewith his Enemy meant to pillory him and his Bride before a jeering Public. That was the moment when he turned to her Ladyship and, uttering a hoarse Cry, called to her by Name. She was, just then, leaning in semi-consciousness against the Angle of the Bay. She did not respond to his Call, and Mr. Betterton, quick in his Movements, alert now like some Feline on the prowl, stepped immediately in front of Her, facing my Lord and screening Her against his Approach.
"Stand back, Man," he commanded. "Stand back, I tell You! You shall not come nigh Her save on bended Knees, with Head bowed in the Dust, suing for Pardon in that you dared to Insult her."
Everything occurred so quickly, Movements, Events, High Words, threatening Gestures from both sides, followed one another in such rapid Succession, that I, overcome with Agitation and the Effect of the stunning Blow which I had received, was hardly able to take it all in. Much less is it in my Power to give You a faithful Account of it all. Those five Minutes were the most spirit-stirring ones I have ever experienced throughout my Life—every Second appeared surcharged with an exciting Fluid which transported Me to supernal Regions, to Lands of Unrealities akin to vivid Dreams.
At one Moment, I remember seeing my Lord Stour make a rapid and furtive movement in the direction of his Sword, which lay some little Distance from him on the Ground, but Mr. Betterton was quicker even than his Foe, more alert, and with one bound he had reached the Weapon, ere my Lord's Hand was nigh it, had picked it up and, with a terrific Jerk, broke it in half across his Knee. Then he threw the mangled Hilt in one direction, the Point in another, and my Lord raised his Fists, ready, methinks, to fly at his Throat.