A quarter of an hour—perhaps less—later, we were speeding back, Mr. Betterton and I, down Canon's Row on our way to Westminster Stairs, intending to take boat for the City.
In the terrible mental upheaval which had followed on the renewed Outrage that had been put upon my beloved Friend, I had well-nigh forgotten that secret conspiracy which was even now threatening the stability of our Country, and in which my former Employer and his Spouse were so deeply involved.
The striking of Church Bells far and near, chiming the hour of eight, recalled me to the danger which threatened Mr. Baggs along with his more aristocratic co-traitors. And, strangely enough, Mr. Betterton thought of this at the very same time. He had been sunk in moody Reverie ever since my Silence had told him the grim tale of my unsuccessful Embassy to the Earl of Stour, and through the darkness it was impossible even for my devoted eyes to watch the Play of Emotions upon his tell-tale face, or to read in his eyes the dark thoughts which I knew must be coursing through his Brain.
In myself, I could not help but be satisfied at the turn of Events. The Conspirators, denounced by me to the Countess of Castlemaine, would of a certainty meet the Punishment which they so fully deserved. Lord Stour was one of them, so was Lord Douglas Wychwoode. The Scaffold, or at least, Banishment, would be their lot, and how could I grieve—I, who hated them so!—that the Earth would presently be rid of two arrogant and supercilious Coxcombs, Traitors to their King, vainglorious and self-seeking. True, the Lady Barbara would weep. But when I remembered the many bitter tears which you, dear Mistress, have shed these past months because she had enchained the fancy of the Man whom you loved, then had scorned his Ardour and left him a Prey to Humiliation and Shame at the hands of Men unworthy to lick the dust at his feet; when I remembered all that, I could find no Pity in my heart for the Lady Barbara, but rather a Hope that one so exquisitely fair would pass through Sorrow and Adversity the purer and softer for the Ordeal.
True again, that for some reason still unexplained Mr. Betterton appeared to desire with an almost passionate intensity that his successful Rival should escape the fate of his fellow-Conspirators. Such Magnanimity was beyond my Comprehension, and I felt that the Sentiment which engendered it could not be a lasting one. Mr. Betterton was for the moment angry with me—very angry—for what I had done; but his Anger I knew would soon melt in the Warmth of his own kindly Heart. He would forgive me, and anon forget the insolent Enemy after the latter had expiated his Treachery and his Arrogance upon the Scaffold. The whole of this hideous past Episode would then become a mere Memory, like unto a nightmare which the healthful freshness of the newly-born Day so quickly dispels.
2
So on the whole it was with a lightened heart that I stepped into the boat in the wake of Mr. Betterton. I thanked the Lord that the Rain had ceased for the moment, for truly I was chilled to the Marrow and could not have borne another wetting.
Every Angle and Stone and Stair and Landing Stage along the Embankment was of course familiar to me; and I could not help falling into a Reverie at sight of those great houses which were the City homes of some of the noblest Families in the Land. How many of these stately walls, thought I, sheltered a nest of Conspirators as vile and as disloyal as were Lord Douglas Wychwoode and his friends? Suffolk House and Yorke House, Salisbury House and Worster House, to mention but a few. How did the mere honest Citizen know what went on behind their Portals, what deadly secrets were whispered within their doors?
I had been taught all my life to respect those who are above me in Station and to reverence our titled Nobility; but truly my short Experience of these high-born Sparks was not calculated to enhance my Respect for their Integrity or my Admiration for their Intellect. Some older Gentlemen there were, such as the Lord Chancellor himself, who were worthy of Everybody's regard; but I must confess that the Behaviour of the younger Fops was oft blameworthy.
I might even instance our Experience this dark night after we had landed at the Temple Stairs, and were hurrying along our way up Middle Temple Lane in the wake of our linkmen. We were speeding on, treading carefully so as to avoid as much as was possible the mud which lay ankle-deep in the Lane, when we suddenly spied ahead of us a party of "Scourers"—young Gentlemen of high Rank, very much the worse for drink, who, being at their wits' end to know how to spend their evenings, did it in prowling about the Streets, insulting or maltreating peaceable Passers-by, molesting Women, breaking Tavern windows, stealing Signboards and otherwise rendering themselves noxious to honest Citizens, and helping to make the Streets of our great City an object of terror by night, in emulation of highway Robbers and other foul Marauders.