M13TRE5.5 
 NELL 
 
 A -MERRY 
 
 TRLE-OF-A 
 
 MERRY 
 
 TINE 
 
 oo f 
 
 1902
 
 
 LIBRARY 
 
 1 HE? 
 
 1 GMJrO 
 
 1 SAN 
 
 CAUVORNIA 
 
 *K^AN blEGO 
 WV.F f ) 
 
 RNIA 
 
 I EGO J
 
 MISTRESS NELL
 
 NELL GWYN 
 
 FROM AN ENGRAVING OF THE 
 PAINTING T?V SIR PETER I.ELY
 
 r / z H^? / O 
 
 MISTRESS NELL 
 
 A MERRY TALE OF A 
 MERRY TIME 
 
 ( Twixt Faft and Fancy) 
 
 BY GEORGE C. HAZELTON, JR. 
 
 Author of the Play 
 
 " Let not poor Nelly starve" 
 
 NEW YORK: CHARLES SCRIBNER S SONS
 
 Copyright, 1901, by Charles Scribner s Sons 
 All rights reserved 
 
 D. B. Updike, The Merrymount Press, Boston
 
 ========** 
 
 A WORD 
 
 IT is the vogue to dramatize successful novels. 
 The author of the present Nell Gwy n story 
 has pursued the contrary course. His "merry" 
 play of the same name was written and produced 
 before he undertook to compose this tale, sug 
 gested by the same historic sources. 
 
 A word of tribute is gratefully given to the 
 comedienne, Miss Crosman, whose courage and 
 exquisite art introduced the "Mistress Nell" 
 of the play to the public.
 
 Contents 
 
 CHAPTERX 1 68 
 
 Arrest him yourself! 
 
 CHAPTER XI 182 
 
 In the field) men; at court , women! 
 
 CHAPTER XII 195 
 
 Beau Adair is my name. 
 
 CHAPTER XIII 232 
 
 For the glory of England? 
 
 CHAPTER XIV 240 
 
 He loves me! He loves me! 
 
 CHAPTER XV 259 
 
 / come, my love; I come. 
 
 CHAPTER XVI 276 
 
 Ods-pitikins, my own reflection! 
 
 CHAPTER XVII 290 
 
 The day will be so happy ; for I ve seen you at 
 the dawn. 
 
 [ Viii ]
 
 MISTRESS NELL 
 
 A MERRY TALE OF A 
 MERRY TIME
 
 MISTRESS NELL 
 
 " And once Nell Gwyn, a frail young sprite^ 
 
 Looked kindly when I met her; 
 I shook my head perhaps but quite 
 Forgot to quite forget her" 
 
 AT was a merry time in merry old Eng 
 land; for King Charles II. was on the 
 throne. 
 
 Not that the wines were better or the 
 ladies fairer in his day, but the renaissance 
 of carelessness and good-living had set 
 in. True Roundheads again sought quiet 
 abodes in which to worship in their gray 
 and sombre way. Cromwell, their un 
 crowned king, was dead; and there was 
 no place for his followers at court or in 
 tavern. Even the austere and Catholic 
 smile of brother James of York, one day 
 to be the ruler of the land, could not cast 
 a gloom over the assemblies at Whitehall. 
 There were those to laugh merrily at the
 
 Mistress Nell 
 
 King s wit, and at the players wit. There 
 were those in abundance to enjoy to-day 
 to-day only, to drink to the glori 
 ous joys of to-day, with no care for the 
 morrow. 
 
 It was, indeed, merry old England; for, 
 when the King has no cares, and assumes 
 no cares, the people likewise have no cares. 
 The state may be rent, the court a nest of 
 intrigue, King and Parliament at odds, the 
 treasury bankrupt: but what care they; 
 for the King cares not. Is not the day 
 prosperous? Are not the taverns in remot 
 est London rilled with roistering spirits 
 who drink and sing to their hearts con 
 tent of their deeds in the wars just done? 
 Can they not steal when hungry and de 
 mand when dry? 
 
 Aye, the worldly ones are cavaliers now 
 for a cavalier is King e en though the 
 sword once followed Cromwell and the 
 gay cloak and the big flying plume do 
 not quite hide the not-yet-discarded cui 
 rass of an Ironside. 
 
 Cockpits and theatres! It is the Res 
 toration ! The maypole is up again at May-
 
 A Merry T ale of a Merry Time 
 
 pole Lane, and the milk-maids bedecked 
 with garlands dance to the tunes of the 
 fiddle. Boys no longer serve for heroines at 
 the play, as was the misfortune in Shake 
 speare s day. The air is full of hilarity and 
 joy. 
 
 Let us too for a little hour forget re 
 sponsibility and fall in with the spirit of 
 the times; while we tipple and toast, and 
 vainly boast: "The King! Long live the 
 King!" 
 
 Old Drury Lane was alive as the sun 
 was setting, on the day of our visit- to 
 London Town, with loungers and loafers; 
 busy-bodies and hawkers; traffickers of 
 sweets and other petty wares; swagger 
 ing soldiers, roistering by, stopping for 
 sooth to throw kisses to inviting eyes at 
 the windows above. 
 
 As we turn into Little Russell Street 
 from the Lane, passing many chairs richly 
 made, awaiting their fair occupants, we 
 come upon the main entrance to the 
 King s House. Not an imposing or spa 
 cious structure to be sure, it nevertheless 
 was suited to the managerial purposes of 
 
 [ 3 ]
 
 Mistress Nell 
 
 the day, which were, as now, to spend as 
 little and get as much as may be. The pit 
 was barely protected from the weather by 
 a glazed cupola ; so that the audience could 
 not always hear the sweetest song to a fin 
 ish without a drenching, or dwell upon 
 the shapeliness of the prettiest ankle, that 
 revealed itself in the dance by means of 
 candles set on cressets, which in those days 
 sadly served the purposes of foot-lights. 
 
 It was Dryden s night. His play was on 
 "The Conquest of Granada." The best 
 of London were there; for a first night 
 then was as attractive as a first night now. 
 In the balcony were draped boxes, in 
 which lovely gowns were seen lovely 
 hair and lovely gems; but the fair faces 
 were often masked. 
 
 The King sat listless in the royal box, 
 watching the people and the play or pass 
 ing pretty compliments with the fair fa 
 vourites by his side, diverted, perchance, 
 by the ill-begotten quarrel of some fellow 
 with a saucy orange-wench over the cost 
 of her golden wares. The true gallants pre 
 ferred being robbed to haggling for the 
 shame of it. [ 4 ]
 
 A Merry Tale of a Merry Time 
 
 A knowing one in the crowd was heard 
 to say: " Tis Castlemaine to the King s 
 left." 
 
 " No, t is Madame Carwell ; curse her," 
 snarled a more vulgar companion. 
 
 " Madame Querouaille, knave, Duch 
 ess of Portsmouth," irritably exclaimed 
 a handsome gallant, himself stumbling 
 somewhat over the French name, though 
 making a bold play for it, as he passed 
 toward his box, pushing the fellow aside. 
 He added a moment later, but so that no 
 one heard : " Portsmouth is far from here." 
 
 It was the Duke of Buckingham the 
 great Duke of Buckingham, in the pit of 
 the King s House! Truly, we see strange 
 things in these strange times! Indeed, 
 William Penn himself did not hesitate 
 to gossip with the orange-wenches, unless 
 Pepys lied and Pepys never lied. 
 
 " What said he ? " asked a stander-by, 
 a butcher, who, with apron on and sleeves 
 to elbow, had hastily left his stall at one of 
 the afternoon and still stood with mouth 
 agape and ringers widespread waiting for 
 the play. Before, however, his sooty com- 
 
 [ 5 ]
 
 Mistress Nell 
 
 panion could answer, they were jostled far 
 apart. 
 
 The crowd struggled for places in eager 
 expectation, amid banter none too virtu 
 ous, whistlings and jostlings. The time for 
 the play had arrived. " Nell ! Nell ! Nell ! " 
 was on every lip. 
 
 And who was "Nell"? 
 
 From amidst the players, lords and cox 
 combs crowded on the stage stepped forth 
 Nell Gwyn the prettiest rogue in merry 
 England. 
 
 A cheer went up from every throat; 
 for the little vixen who stood before them 
 had long reigned in the hearts of Drury 
 Lane and the habitues of the King s 
 House. 
 
 Yea, all eyes were upon the pretty, 
 witty Nell; the one-time orange-girl; 
 now queen of the theatre, and the idol 
 of the Lane. Her curls were flowing and 
 her big eyes dancing beneath a huge hat 
 more, indeed, a canopy than a hat 
 so large that the audience screamed with 
 delight at the incongruity of it and the 
 pretty face beneath. 
 
 [6]
 
 A Merry Tale of a Merry Time 
 
 This pace in foolery had been set at the 
 Duke s House, but Nell out-did them, 
 with her broad-brimmed hat as large as 
 a cart-wheel and her quaint waist-belt; 
 for was not her hat larger by half than 
 that at the rival house and her waist-belt 
 quainter? 
 
 As she came forward to speak the pro 
 logue, her laugh too was merrier and more 
 roguish: 
 
 " This jest was first of the other house s making, 
 And, five times tried, has never fail d of taking ; 
 
 This is that hat, whose very sight did win ye 
 To laugh and clap as though the devil were in ye. 
 
 I ll write a play, says one, for I have got 
 A broad-brimmed hat, and waist-belt, towards 
 
 a plot. 
 
 Says the other, I have one more large than that, 
 Thus they out-write each other with a hat! 
 The brims still grew with every play they writ; 
 And grew so large, they cover d all the wit. 
 Hat was the play ; / was language, wit, and 
 
 tale : 
 Like them that find meat, drink, and cloth in ale." 
 
 [7]
 
 Mistress Nell 
 
 The King leaned well out over the box- 
 rail, his dark eyes intent upon Nell s face. 
 
 A fair hand, however, was placed im 
 patiently upon his shoulder and drew him 
 gently back. "Lest you fall, my liege." 
 
 "Thanks, Castlemaine," he replied, 
 kindly but knowingly. " You are always 
 thoughtful." 
 
 The play went on. The aclors came and 
 went. Hart appeared in Oriental robes as 
 Almanzor a dress which mayhap had 
 served its purposes for Othello, and may 
 hap had not; for cast-off court-dresses, 
 without regard to fitness, were the players 
 favourite costumes in those days, the rich 
 ness more than the style mattering. 
 
 With mighty force, he read from the 
 centre of the stage, with elocution true 
 and syllable precise, Dryden s ponderous 
 lines. The King nodded approvingly to 
 the poet. The poet glowed with pride at 
 the patronage of the King. The old-time 
 audience were enchanted. Dryden sat with 
 a triumphant smile as he dwelt upon his 
 poetic lines and heard the cherished syl 
 lables receive rounds of applause from the 
 Londoners. [81
 
 A Merry Tale of a Merry Time 
 
 Was it the thought, dear Dryden; or 
 was it Nell s pretty ways that bewitched 
 the most of it? Nell s laugh still echoes in 
 the world; but where are your plays, dear 
 Dryden?
 
 CHAPTER II 
 
 It ; near your cue. Mistress Nell! 
 
 Jl HE greenroom of the King s House 
 was scarcely a prepossessing place or in 
 viting. A door led to the stage; another 
 to the street. On the remaining doors 
 might have been deciphered from the Old 
 English of a scene-artist s daub "Mistress 
 Gwyn" and "Mr. Hart." These doors 
 led respectively to the tiring-room of the 
 sweet sprite who had but now set the pit 
 wild with a hat over a sparkling eye and 
 to that of the actor-manager of the House. 
 A rough table, a few chairs, a mirror 
 which had evidently seen better days in 
 some grand mansion and a large throne- 
 chair which might equally well have sat 
 isfied the royalty of Macbeth or Chris 
 topher Sly its royalty, forsooth, being 
 in its size, for thus only could it lord-it 
 over its mates stood in the corner. Old 
 armour hung upon the wall, grim in the
 
 A Merry Tale of a Merry Time 
 
 light of candles fixed in braziers. Rushes 
 were strewn about the floor. 
 
 Ah! Pepys, Pepys, was it here that 
 you recalled "specially kissing of Nell" ? 
 Mayhap; for we read in your book: "I 
 kissed her, and so did my wife, and a 
 mighty pretty soul she is." Be that as 
 it may, however, you must have found 
 Nell s lips very agreeable; for a great wit 
 has suggested that it was well that Mrs. 
 Pepys was present on the occasion. 
 
 On great play-nights, however, this 
 most unroyal room assumed the propor 
 tions of royalty. Gallants and even lords 
 sought entrance here and elbowed their 
 way about; and none dared say them nay. 
 They forced a way even upon the stage 
 during the play, though not so commonly 
 as before the Restoration, yet still too 
 much; and the players played as best they 
 could, and where best they could. Billets- 
 doux passed, sweet words were said, all 
 in this dilapidated, unpretentious, candle- 
 lighted room. 
 
 At the moment of which we speak, the 
 greenroom was deserted save for a lad of
 
 Mistress Nell 
 
 twelve or fourteen years, who stood before 
 the mirror, posing to his personal satis 
 faction and occasionally delivering bits 
 from " Hamlet." He was none other than 
 " Dick," the call-boy of the King s House. 
 
 The lad struck a final attitude, his brow 
 clouded. He assumed what seemed to him 
 the proper pose for the royal Dane. His 
 meditations and his pose, however, were 
 broken in upon by the sudden entrance 
 of Manager Hart, flushed and in an un 
 usual state of excitement. 
 
 "Where is my dagger, Dick?" he ex 
 claimed, pacing the room. 
 
 The boy came to himself but slowly. 
 
 "What are you doing? Get my dag 
 ger, boy," wildly reiterated the irate man 
 ager. " Don t you see there will be a stage- 
 wait?" He cast an anxious glance in the 
 direction of the door which led to the 
 stage. 
 
 "Where did you leave it, sir?" asked 
 the lad, finally realizing that it would be 
 wise not to trifle at such a time. 
 
 "Never mind where I left it. Get it, 
 get it; do you hear! Nell s on the stage
 
 A Merry Tale of a Merry Time 
 
 already." Hart rushed to the door and 
 looked off in an increasing state of ex 
 citement. 
 
 " Why, you Ve got your dagger on, 
 sir," hesitatingly suggested the lad, as he 
 caught the gleam of a small scimiter 
 among the folds of Almanzor s tunic. 
 
 Hart s face flushed. 
 
 "Devil take you, boy," he exclaimed; 
 " you are too stupid ever to make an ac 
 tor!" 
 
 With this speech, the manager strode 
 out of the greenroom toward the stage. 
 
 Poor Dick sank back in an attitude of 
 resignation. " How long, O Rome, must 
 I endure this bondage?" he said, sadly. 
 
 He again observed his boyish figure 
 in the mirror, and the pretty face bright 
 ened as he realized that there might still 
 be hope in life, despite Manager Hart s 
 assertion that he would never be able to 
 a<5t. His features slowly sank into a set 
 expression of tremendous gloom, such as 
 he thought should characterize his con 
 ception of himself as Hamlet when in 
 days to come the mantles of Burbage and 
 
 [ 3 ]
 
 Mistress Nell 
 
 of Betterton should be his and Manager 
 Hart must bow to him. He stood trans 
 fixed before the glass in a day-dream, for 
 getful of his ills. His pretty lips moved, 
 and one close by might have heard again, 
 "To be or not to be" in well-modulated 
 phrase. 
 
 "Ah, boy; here!" 
 
 Dick started. 
 
 It was a richly dressed gallant, in old- 
 rose with royal orders, who had entered 
 the room quietly but authoritatively from 
 the street the same lordly personage 
 we observed in the pit. His manner was 
 that of one accustomed to be obeyed and 
 quickly too. The lad knew him and bowed 
 low. 
 
 "Tell Mistress Nell, Buckingham 
 would speak with her. Lively, lad; 
 lively," he said. 
 
 " She is on the stage, my lord," re 
 plied Dick, respectfully. 
 
 " Gad, I thought otherwise and stepped 
 about from my box. Here; put these 
 flowers in her tiring-room." 
 
 The boy took the beautiful bouquet 
 
 [ H ]
 
 A Merry Tale of a Merry Time 
 
 of white roses. "Yes, my lord," he re 
 plied, and turned to do the bidding. 
 
 "Flowers strewn in ladies ways oft 
 lead to princely favours," muttered his 
 lordship, thoughtfully, as he removed his 
 gloves and vainly adjusted his hat and 
 sword. " Portsmouth at Dover told me 
 that." 
 
 It was apparent from his face that 
 much passed before his mind, in that 
 little second, of days when, at Dover 
 Castle not long since, he had been a part 
 and no small part of the intrigue 
 well planned by Louis of France, and 
 well executed by the Duchess of Orleans 
 assisted by the fair Louise, now Duchess 
 of Portsmouth, in which his own purse 
 and power had waxed mightily. What 
 ever his lordship thought, however, it 
 was gone like the panorama before a 
 drowning brain. 
 
 He stopped the lad as he was entering 
 Nell s tiring-room, with an exclamation. 
 The boy returned. 
 
 "You gave Mistress Nell my note bid 
 ding her to supper?" he asked, question- 
 ingly. [ 15 ]
 
 Mistress Nell 
 
 "I did, my lord," answered Dick. 
 
 " Sheart, a madrigal worthy of Bac 
 chus! She smiled delightedly?" contin 
 ued his lordship, in a jocular mood. 
 
 "No, my lord; quite serious." 
 
 His lordship s face changed slightly. 
 "Read it eagerly?" he ventured, where 
 he might have commanded, further to 
 draw out the lad. 
 
 "Yes, my lord," added Dick, respect 
 fully, "after a time." The boy s lids 
 dropped to avoid revealing his amused 
 recollection of the incident; and his lord 
 ship s quick eye noted it. 
 
 "Good!" he exclaimed, with an as 
 sumed triumphant air. "She folded it 
 carefully and placed it in her bosom next 
 her heart? " 
 
 "She threw it on the floor, my lord!" 
 meekly answered Dick, hiding his face 
 in the flowers to avoid revealing disre 
 spect. 
 
 "My billet-doux upon the floor!" an 
 grily exclaimed his lordship. " Plague 
 on t, she said something, made some an 
 swer, boy?" The diplomat was growing 
 
 [ 16 ]
 
 A Merry Tale of a Merry Time 
 
 earnest despite himself, as diplomats often 
 do in the cause of women. 
 
 Dick trembled. 
 
 "She said your dinners made amends 
 for your company, my lord," he said, 
 meekly. 
 
 Buckingham s eyes snapped; but he 
 was too clever to reveal his feelings fur 
 ther to a call-boy, whom he dismissed 
 with a wave of the hand. He then swag 
 gered to the table and complacently ex 
 claimed: "The rogue! Nelly, Nelly, your 
 lips shall pay tribute for that. Rosy im 
 pudence! Buckingham s dinners make 
 amends for his company? Minx!" He 
 threw himself into a chair, filled with 
 deep reflections of supper and wine, wit 
 and beauty, rather than state-craft. 
 
 Thus lost in selfish reflection, he did 
 not observe, or, if he did, cared not for, 
 the frail figure and sweet face of one who 
 cautiously tiptoed into the greenroom. 
 It was Orange Moll, whose sad counte 
 nance and tattered garments betokened 
 a sadder story. Her place was in the pit, 
 with her back to the stage, vending her 
 
 [ 7 ]
 
 Mistress Nell 
 
 oranges to artisans, girls with vizards or 
 foolish gallants. She had no right behind 
 the scenes. 
 
 " I am most afraid to enter here with 
 out Nell," she thought, faint-heartedly, as 
 she glanced about the room and her eyes 
 fell upon the great Lord Buckingham. 
 
 " Oranges? Will you have my oranges? 
 Only sixpence, my lord," she ventured at 
 length, then hesitatingly advanced and 
 offered her wares; but his lordship s 
 thoughts were far away. 
 
 " What shall we have for supper? " was 
 his sole concern. " I think Nelly would 
 like spiced tongue." Instantly his hands 
 and eyes were raised in mock invocation 
 of the intervention of the Powers that 
 Be, and so suddenly that Moll drew back. 
 "Ye Gods," he exclaimed aloud, "she 
 has enough of that already! Ah, the 
 vintage of " 
 
 It was more habit than courage which 
 brought to Moll s trembling lips the 
 familiar orange-cry, which again inter 
 rupted him: "Oranges; only sixpence. 
 Here is one picked for you, my lord." 
 [ 8 ]
 
 A Merry Tale of a Merry Time 
 
 Buckingham s eyes flashed with anger; 
 he was not wont to have his way, much 
 less his pleasure, disturbed by the lowly. 
 " Oh, hang you, you disturb me. I am 
 thinking; don t you perceive I am think 
 ing? Begone!" 
 
 "Only sixpence, my lord; I have not 
 sold one to-night," pleaded the girl, sadly. 
 
 His lordship rose irritably. " I have no 
 pauper s pence," he exclaimed. "Out of 
 my way! Ragbag!" He pushed the girl 
 roughly aside and crossed the room. 
 
 At the same instant, there was confu 
 sion at the stage-door, the climax of 
 which was the re-entrance of Hart into 
 the greenroom. 
 
 " How can a man play when he trem 
 bles for his life lest he step upon a lord?" 
 cried the angry manager. "They should 
 be horsewhipped off the stage, and " his 
 eyes falling upon Buckingham "out of 
 the greenroom." 
 
 "Ah, Hart," began his lordship, with 
 a patronizing air, " why is Nelly so long? 
 I desire to see her." 
 
 Hart s lips trembled, but he controlled 
 
 [ 9 ]
 
 Mistress Nell 
 
 his passion. "Indeed? His Majesty and 
 the good folk in front would doubtless 
 gladly await your interview with Mis 
 tress Eleanor Gwyn. Shall I announce 
 your will, my lord, unto his Majesty and 
 stop the play?" 
 
 "You grow ironical, friend Hart," re 
 plied his lordship. 
 
 "Not so," said the aftor, bowing low; 
 " I am your lordship s most obedient ser 
 vant." 
 
 Buckingham s lip curled and his eyes 
 revealed that he would have said more, 
 but the room was meantime filling with 
 players from the stage, some exchanging 
 compliments, some strutting before the 
 glass, and he would not so degrade his 
 dignity before them. Dick, foil in hand 
 even in the manager s room, was testing 
 the steel s strength to his utmost, in boy 
 ish fashion. 
 
 This confusion lent Moll courage, and 
 forth came again the cry : " Oranges ? 
 Will you have my oranges? Only six 
 pence, sir." 
 
 She boldly offered her wares to Al-
 
 A Merry Tale of a Merry Time 
 
 manzor, but started and paled when the 
 hero turned and revealed Manager Hart. 
 
 " What are you doing here, you little 
 imp ? Back to the pit, where you be 
 long." The manager s voice was full of 
 meaning. 
 
 " Nell told me I might come here, sir," 
 said the girl, faintly excusing herself. 
 
 Hart s temper got the better of him. 
 To admit before all that Nell ruled the 
 theatre was an affront to his managerial 
 dignity which he could not brook. 
 
 "Oh, Nell did, did she?" he almost 
 shrieked, as he angrily paced the room 
 like some caged beast, gesticulating 
 wildly. 
 
 The aclors gathered in groups and 
 looked askant. 
 
 "Gadso," he continued, "who is man 
 ager, I should like to know! Nell would 
 introduce her whole trade here if she 
 could. Every orange-peddler in London 
 will set up a stand in the greenroom at 
 the King s, next we know. Out with you! 
 This is a temple of art, not a market 
 place. Out with you!" 
 
 [ 21 ]
 
 Mistress Nell 
 
 He seized Moll roughly in his anger 
 and almost hurled her out at the door. 
 He would have done so, indeed, had not 
 Nell entered at this moment from the 
 stage. Her eye caught the situation at a 
 glance. 
 
 "Oh, blood, lago, blood!" she ex 
 claimed, mock-heroically, then burst 
 into the merriest laugh that one could 
 care to hear. " How now, a tragedy in 
 the greenroom! What lamb is being sac 
 rificed?" 
 
 Hart stood confused; the players whis 
 pered in expectation ; and an amused smile 
 played upon the featuresof my Lord Buck 
 ingham at the manager s discomfiture. 
 Finally Hart found his tongue. 
 
 "An old comrade of yours at orange- 
 vending before you lost the art of acting," 
 he suggested, with a glance at Moll. 
 
 "By association with you, Jack?" re 
 plied the witch of the theatre in a way 
 which bespoke more answers that wis 
 dom best not bring forth. 
 
 Nell s whole heart went out to the sub 
 ject of the controversy. Poor little tattered 
 
 [ 22 ]
 
 A Merry T ale of a Merry Time 
 
 Orange Moll! She was carried back in an 
 instant to her own bitter life and bitter 
 struggles when an orange-girl. Throwing 
 an arm about the child, she kissed away 
 the tears with, " What is the matter, dear 
 Moll?" 
 
 "They are all mocking me, and sent 
 me back to the pit," replied the girl, hys 
 terically. 
 
 " Shame on you all," said Nell; and the 
 eyes that were so full of comedy revealed 
 tragic fire. 
 
 " Fy, fy," pleaded Hart; " I 11 be char 
 itable to-morrow, Nell, after this strain 
 is off but a first night " 
 
 "You need charity yourself?" sug 
 gested Nell; and she burst into a merry 
 laugh, in which many joined. 
 
 Buckingham instantly took up the 
 gauntlet for a bold play, for a coup d etat 
 in flattery. "Pshaw!" he cried, waving 
 aside the players in a princely fashion. 
 "When Nell plays, we have no time to 
 munch oranges. Let the wench bawl in 
 the street." 
 
 Poor Moll s tears, flowed again with
 
 Mistress Nell 
 
 each harsh word. Nell was not so easily 
 affected. 
 
 " Odso, my lord ! It is a pity your lord 
 ship is not a player. Then the orange-trade 
 would flourish," she said. 
 
 Buckingham bowed, amused and cu 
 rious. "Say you so, i faith! Pray, why, 
 mad minx?" 
 
 "Your lordship would make such a 
 good mark for the peel," retorted Nell, 
 tossing a bit of orange-peel in his face, to 
 the infinite delight of Hart and his fellow- 
 players. 
 
 "Devil!" angrily exclaimed his lord 
 ship as he realized the insult. " I would 
 kill a man for this; a woman, I can only 
 love." His hand left his sword-hilt; and 
 he bowed low to the vixen of the theatre, 
 picked from the floor the bit of peel 
 which had fallen, kissed it, tossed it over 
 his shoulder and turned away. 
 
 Nell was not done, however; her re 
 venge was incomplete. "There! dry your 
 eyes, Moll," she exclaimed. "Give me 
 your basket, child. You shall be avenged 
 still further." 
 
 [ 24]
 
 A Merry Tale of a Merry Time 
 
 The greenroom had now filled from 
 the stage and the tiring-rooms; and all 
 gathered gleefully about to see what next 
 the impish Nell would do, for avenged 
 she would be they all knew, though the 
 course of her vengeance none could 
 guess. 
 
 The manager, catching at the probable 
 outcome when Nell seized from Moll s 
 trembling arm the basket heaped with 
 golden fruit, gave the first warning: 
 "Great Heavens! Flee for your lives! I 
 faith, here comes the veteran robber at 
 such traffic." 
 
 There was a sudden rush for the stage, 
 but Nell cried: "Guard the door, Moll; 
 don t let a rascal out. I ll do the rest." 
 
 It was not Moll s strength, however, 
 which kept the greenroom filled, but ex- 
 peclation of Nell. All gathered about with 
 the suspense of a drama; for Nell herself 
 was a whole play as she stood in the centre 
 of that little group of lords and players, 
 dressed for Almahyde, Dryden s heroine, 
 with a basket of oranges on her dimpled 
 arm. What a pretty picture she was too 
 
 [ 25 ]
 
 Mistress Nell 
 
 prettier here even than on the stage! The 
 nearer, the prettier ! A band of roses, one 
 end of which formed a garland falling to 
 the floor, circled and bound in her curls. 
 What a figure in her Oriental garb, hid 
 ing and revealing. Indeed, the greenroom 
 seemed bewitched by her cry: " Oranges, 
 will you have my oranges? " 
 
 She lifted the basket high and offered 
 the fruit in her enchanting old-time way, 
 a way which had won for her the place 
 of first a6tress in England. Could it not 
 now dispose of Moll s wares and make the 
 child happy? Almahyde s royal train was 
 caught up most unroyally, revealing two 
 dainty ankles ; and she laughed and danced 
 and disposed of her wares all in a breath. 
 Listen and love: 
 
 Sweet as love-lips, dearest mine, 
 Picked by Spanish maids divine, 
 Black-eyed beauties, who, like Eve, 
 With golden fruit their loves deceive ! 
 Buy oranges; buy oranges! 
 
 Close your eyes, when these you taste ; 
 Think your arm about her waist: 
 
 [ 26 ]
 
 A Merry Tale of a Merry Time 
 
 Thus with sixpence may you win 
 Happiness unstained with sin. 
 Buy oranges; buy oranges! 
 
 As the luscious fruit you sip, 
 You will wager / is her lip ; 
 Nothing sweeter since the rise 
 Of wickedness in Paradise. 
 
 Buy oranges; buy oranges! 
 
 There were cries of "Brava!" "An 
 other jig!" and "Hurrah for Nelly!" It 
 was one of those bits of a6Hng behind the 
 scenes which are so rare and exquisite and 
 which the audience never see. 
 
 "Marry, gallants, deny me after that, 
 if you dare"; and Nell s little foot came 
 down firmly in the last step of a trium 
 phant jig, indicating a determination that 
 Moll s oranges should be sold and quickly 
 too. 
 
 "Last aft! All ready for the last aft," 
 rang out in Dick s familiar voice from the 
 stage-door as she ended. It was well some 
 one thought of the play and of the audi 
 ence in waiting. 
 
 Many of the players hastily departed to 
 
 [ 27 ]
 
 Mistress Nell 
 
 take up their cues; but not so Nell. Her 
 eyes were upon the lordly Buckingham, 
 who was endeavouring to effect a crafty 
 exit. 
 
 "Not so fast, my lord," she said as 
 she caught his handsome cloak and drew 
 him back into the room. "I want you 
 with me." She looked coyly into his lord 
 ship s face as though he were the one man 
 in all the world she loved, and her curls 
 and cheek almost nestled against his rich 
 cloak. "A dozen, did you say? What a 
 heart you have, my lord. A bountiful 
 heart!" 
 
 Buckingham was dazed; his eyes 
 sought Nell, then looked aghast at the 
 oranges she would force upon him. The 
 impudence of it! 
 
 "A dozen!" he exclaimed in awe. 
 " Slife, Nelly; what would I do with a 
 dozen oranges? " 
 
 "Pay for them, in sooth," promptly 
 replied the vixen. " I never give a lord 
 credit." 
 
 The player-folk gathered closer to 
 watch the scene; for there was evidently
 
 A Merry Tale of a Merry Time 
 
 more fan brewing, and that too at the 
 expense of a very royal gentleman. 
 
 "A player talk of credit!" replied his 
 lordship, quite ironically, as he straight 
 ened up proudly for a wit-encounter. 
 "What would become of the mum 
 mers, if the lords did not fill their empty 
 pockets?" he said, crushingly. 
 
 " What would become of the lords, if 
 the players brains did not try to fill their 
 empty skulls with wits? " quickly retorted 
 Nell. 
 
 " If you were a man, sweet Nelly, I 
 should answer: The lords first had fools 
 at court; then supplanted them with 
 players!" 
 
 "And, being a woman, I do answer," 
 replied the irrepressible Nell, " and 
 played the fools themselves, my lord!" 
 
 The players tried to smother their feel 
 ings; but the retort was too apt, and the 
 greenroom rang with laughter. 
 
 Buckingham turned fiercely upon 
 them; but their faces were instantly 
 mummified. 
 
 " Gad, I would sooner face the Dutch 
 
 [ 29 ]
 
 Mistress Nell 
 
 fleet, Nelly. Up go my hands, fair robber," 
 he said. He had decided to succumb for 
 the present. In his finger-tips glistened a 
 golden guinea. 
 
 Nell eyed the coin dubiously. 
 
 " Nay, keep this and your wares too," 
 added his lordship, in hope of peace, as 
 he placed it in her hand. 
 
 " Do you think me a beggar? " replied 
 Nell, indignantly. "Take your posses 
 sions, every one every orange." She 
 filled his hands and arms to overflowing 
 with her golden wares. 
 
 His lordship winced, but stood subdued. 
 
 "What am I to do with them?" he 
 asked, falteringly. 
 
 "Eat them; eat them," promptly and 
 forcefully retorted the quondam orange- 
 vender. 
 
 "All?" asked his lordship. 
 
 "All!" replied her ladyship. 
 
 "Damme, I cannot hold a dozen," he 
 exclaimed, aghast. 
 
 "A chair! A chair!" cried Nell. 
 "Would your lordship stand at the feast 
 of gold?" 
 
 [ 30 ]
 
 A Merry Tale of a Merry Time 
 
 Before Buckingham had time to reflect 
 upon the outrage to his dignity, Nell 
 forced him into a chair, to the great glee 
 of the by-standers, especially of Manager 
 Hart, who chuckled to an aclor by his 
 side: "She ll pluck his fine feathers; 
 curse his arrogance." 
 
 " Your knees together, my lord ! What, 
 have they never united in prayer?" glee 
 fully laughed Nell as she further hum 
 bled his lordship by forcing his knees to 
 gether to form a lap upon which to pile 
 more oranges. 
 
 Buckingham did not relish the scene; 
 but he was clever enough to humour the 
 vixen, both from fear of her tongue and 
 from hope of favours as well as words from 
 her rosy lips. 
 
 " They 11 unite to hold thee, wench," he 
 suggested, with a sickly laugh, as he ob 
 served his knees well laden with oranges. 
 
 " I trow not," retorted Nell; " they can 
 scarce hold their own. There!" and she 
 roguishly capped the pyramid which 
 burdened his lordship s knees with the 
 largest in her basket. 
 
 [ 31 ]
 
 Mistress Nell 
 
 " I 11 barter these back for my change, 
 sweet Nell," he pleaded. 
 
 "What change?" quickly cried the 
 merry imp of Satan. 
 
 "I gave you a golden guinea," an 
 swered his lordship, woefully. 
 
 " I gave you a golden dozen, my lord ! " 
 replied Nell, gleefully. 
 
 " Oranges, who will have my oranges? " 
 
 She was done with Buckingham and 
 had turned about for other prey. 
 
 Hart could not allow the opportunity to 
 escape without a shot at his hated lordship. 
 
 "Fleeced," he whispered grimly over 
 his lordship s shoulder, with a merry 
 chuckle. 
 
 Buckingham rose angrily. 
 
 " A plague on the wench and her deal 
 ings," he said. His oranges rolled far and 
 wide over the floor of the greenroom. 
 
 "You should be proud, my lord, to 
 be robbed by so fair a hand," continued 
 Hart, consolingly. " Tis an honour, I as 
 sure you; we all envy you." 
 
 Buckingham did not relish the conso 
 lation. 
 
 [ 32 ]
 
 A Merry Tale of a Merry Time 
 
 "Tis an old saw, Master Hart," he 
 replied: " He laughs best who laughs 
 last. " 
 
 As he spoke, Nell s orange-cry rang 
 out again above the confusion and the 
 fun. She was still at it. Moll was finding 
 vengeance and money, indeed, though 
 she dwelt upon her accumulating posses 
 sions through eyelashes dim with tears. 
 
 "It s near your cue, Mistress Nell," 
 cried out the watchful Dick at the stage- 
 door. 
 
 "Six oranges left; see me sell them, 
 Moll," cried the unheeding vender. 
 
 "It s near your cue, Mistress Nell!" 
 again shouted the call-boy, in anxious 
 tones. 
 
 "Marry, my cue will await my com 
 ing, pretty one," laughed Nell. 
 
 The boy was not so sure of that. " Oh, 
 don t be late, Mistress Nell," he pleaded. 
 "I ll buy the oranges rather than have 
 you make a stage-wait." 
 
 " Dear heart," replied Nell, touched 
 by the lad s solicitude. "Keep your pen 
 nies, Dick, and you and I will have a lark 
 
 [ 33 ]
 
 Mistress Nell 
 
 with them some fine day. Six oranges 
 left; going going " She sprang into 
 the throne-chair, placed one of the small 
 est feet in England impudently on one 
 of its arms and proceeded to vend her re 
 maining wares from on high, to the huge 
 satisfaction of her admirers. 
 
 The situation was growing serious. 
 Nell was not to be trifled with. The ac 
 tors stood breathless. Hart grew wild as 
 he realized the difficulty and the fact that 
 she was uncontrollable. King and Parlia 
 ment, he well knew, could not move her 
 from her whimsical purpose, much less 
 the manager of the King s. 
 
 "What are you "doing, Nell?" he 
 pleaded, wildly. "You will ruin the first 
 night. His Majesty in front, too! Dryden 
 will never forgive us if Granada goes 
 wrong through our fault." 
 
 " Heyday ! What care I for Granada ? " 
 and Nell swung the basket of oranges 
 high in air and calmly awaited bids. 
 " Not a step on the stage till the basket is 
 empty." 
 
 It was Buckingham s turn now. 
 
 [ 34]
 
 A Merry Tale of a Merry Time 
 
 " Here s music for our manager," he 
 chuckled. "Our deepest sympathy, friend 
 Hart." 
 
 This was more than Hart could bear. 
 The manager of the King s House was 
 forced into profanity. " Damn your sym 
 pathy," exclaimed he; and few would 
 criticise him for it. He apologized as 
 quickly, however, and turned to Nell. 
 "There goes your scene, Nell. I ll buy 
 your oranges, when you come off," he con 
 tinued to plead, in desperation, scarcely 
 less fearful of offending her than of of 
 fending the great Lord Buckingham. 
 
 " Now or never," calmly replied the 
 vender from her chair-top. 
 
 "The devil take the women," mut 
 tered Hart, frantically, as he rushed head 
 long into his tiring-room. 
 
 "Marry, Heaven defend," laughed 
 Nell; "for he s got the men already." 
 She sprang lightly from the chair to the 
 floor. 
 
 Hart was back on the instant, well out 
 of breath but purse in hand. 
 
 " Here, here," he exclaimed. " Never 
 
 [ 35 ]
 
 Mistress Nell 
 
 mind the oranges, wench. The audience 
 will be waiting." 
 
 " Faith and troth, and is not Nell worth 
 waiting for?" she cried, her eyes shining 
 radiantly. Indeed, the audience would 
 have gladly waited, could they have but 
 seen her pretty, winsome way ! " These are 
 yours all all!" she continued, as she 
 gleefully emptied the basket of its remain 
 ing fruit over Prince Almanzor s head. 
 
 Hart protested vainly. 
 
 Then rushing back to Moll, Nell threw 
 both arms about the girl triumphantly. 
 "There, Moll," she said, " is your basket 
 and all the trophies"; and she gave Moll 
 the basket with the glittering coins jan 
 gling in it. 
 
 "Your cue your cue is spoken, Mis 
 tress Nell," shrieked Dick from the stage- 
 door. 
 
 Nell heeded not. Her eyes happening 
 upon an orange which had fallen near the 
 throne-chair, she caught it up eagerly and 
 hurled it at Manager Hart. 
 
 " Forsooth, here s another orange, Mas 
 ter Manager." 
 
 [ 36 ]
 
 A Merry Tale of a Merry Time 
 
 He succeeded in catching it despite his 
 excitement. 
 
 "Your cue your cue Mistress 
 Nell!" came from every throat as one. 
 
 Nell tossed back her head indifferently. 
 " Let them wait; let them wait," she said, 
 defiantly. 
 
 The stage-beauty crossed leisurely to 
 the glass and carelessly arranged her dra 
 pery and the band of roses encircling her 
 hair. 
 
 Then the hoyden was gone. In an in 
 stant, Nell was transformed into the prin 
 cess, Almahyde. The room had been filled 
 with breathless suspense ; but what seemed 
 to the players an endless period of time 
 was but a minute. Nell turned to the man 
 ager, and with all the suavity of a prin 
 cess of tragedy kissed her hand tantaliz- 
 ingly to him and said: "Now, Jack, I 11 
 teach you how to act." 
 
 She passed out, and, in a moment, 
 rounds of applause from the amphithea 
 tre filled the room. She was right; the 
 audience would wait for her. 
 
 A moment later, the greenroom was 
 
 1 37]
 
 Mistress Nell 
 
 deserted except for Manager Hart and 
 Lord Buckingham. Hart had thrown the 
 call-boy almost bodily through the door 
 that led to the stage, thus venting his anger 
 upon the unoffending lad, who had been 
 unfortunate enough to happen in his way 
 ill betimes. He now stood vainly contem 
 plating himself before the glass and await 
 ing his cue. Buckingham leaned upon a 
 chair-top, uncertain as to his course. 
 
 "Damme! She shall rue this work," 
 he muttered at length. "A man might 
 as well make love to a wind-mill. I for 
 got to tell her how her gown becomes 
 her. That is a careless thing to forget." 
 The reflection forthwith determined his 
 course. "Nelly, Nelly, Nelly," he called 
 as he quickly crossed the room after the 
 departed Nell, "you are divine to-night. 
 Your gown is simply " 
 
 The manager s voice stayed him at the 
 stage-door. "My lord, come back: mv 
 lord" 
 
 Buckingham s hand had gone so far, in 
 deed, as to push open the door. He stood 
 entranced as he looked out upon the ob- 
 [ 38 ]
 
 A Merry Tale of a Merry Time 
 
 je6t of his adoration upon the stage. " Per 
 fection!" he exclaimed. "Your eyes " 
 
 "My lord, my lord, you forget " 
 
 Buckingham turned indignantly at the 
 voice which dared to interrupt him in the 
 midst of his rhapsody. 
 
 " You forget your oranges, my lord," 
 mildly suggested Hart, as he pointed to 
 the fruit scattered upon the floor. 
 
 Buckingham s face crimsoned. "Plague 
 on t! They are sour, Master Hart." With 
 a glance of contempt, he turned on his 
 heel and left the room. 
 
 A triumphant smile played upon the 
 manager s face. He felt that he had an 
 noyed his lordship without his intention 
 being apparent. "A good exit, on my 
 honour," he muttered, as he stood con 
 templating the door through which 
 Buckingham had passed; "but, by 
 Heaven, he shall better it unless he 
 takes his eyes from Nell. Great men be 
 lieve themselves resistless with the fair; 
 more often, the fair are resistless with 
 great men." 
 
 He took a final look at himself in the 
 
 [ 39 ]
 
 Mistress Nell 
 
 glass, adjusted his scimiter; and, well sat 
 isfied with himself and the conceit of his 
 epigram unheard save by himself, he also 
 departed, to take up his cue.
 
 CHAPTER III 
 
 He took them from Castlemaines hand to throw to you. 
 
 T] 
 
 HE greenroom seemed like some old 
 forest rent by a storm. Its furniture, which 
 was none too regular at best, either in 
 carving or arrangement, had the irregu 
 larity which comes only with a tempest, 
 human or divine. The table, it is true, still 
 stood on its four oaken legs; but even it 
 was well awry. The chairs were scattered 
 here and there, some resting upon their 
 backs. To add to all this, oranges in con 
 fusion were strewn broadcast upon the 
 floor. 
 
 A storm in facl had visited the green 
 room. The storm was Nell. 
 
 In the midst of the confusion, a jolly 
 old face peeped cautiously in at the door 
 which led to the street. At the sound of 
 Manager Hart s thunderous tones com 
 ing from the stage, however, it as promptly 
 disappeared, only to return when the ap- 
 
 [ 41 ]
 
 Mistress Nell 
 
 parent danger ceased. It was a rare old fig 
 ure and a rare old dress and a rare old 
 man. Yet, not an old man either. His face 
 was red; for he was a tavern spirit, well 
 known and well beloved, a lover of good 
 ale! Across his back hung a fiddle which 
 too had the appearance of being the worse 
 for wear, if fiddles can ever be said to be 
 the worse for wear. 
 
 The intruder took off his dilapidated 
 hat, hugged his fiddle closely under his 
 arm and looked about the room, more 
 cautiously than respectfully. 
 
 "Oons, here is a scattering of props; a 
 warfare of the orange-wenches!" he ex 
 claimed. " A wise head comes into battle 
 after the last shot is fired." 
 
 He proceeded forthwith to fill his 
 pockets, of which there seemed to be an 
 abundance of infinite depth, with oranges. 
 This done, he calmly made a hole in the 
 next orange which came to his hand and 
 began to suck it loudly and persistently, 
 boy-fashion, meanwhile smacking his 
 lips. His face was one wreath of unftuous 
 smiles. "There is but one way to eat an 
 
 [42 ]
 
 A Merry Tale of a Merry Time 
 
 orange," he chuckled; "that s through a 
 hole." 
 
 At this moment, Hart s voice was heard 
 again upon the stage, and the new-comer 
 to the greenroom liked to have dropped 
 his orange. "Odsbud, that s one of Mas 
 ter Hart s love-tones," he thought. "I 
 must see Nell before he sees me, or it will 
 be farewell Strings." He hastened to Nell s 
 tiring-room and rapped lightly on the 
 door. "Mistress Nell! Mistress Nell!" he 
 called. 
 
 The door opened, but it was not Nell. 
 Her maid pointed toward the stage. 
 Strings for Strings was his name, or at 
 least none knew him by a better accord 
 ingly hobbled across the room for the 
 wars too had left their mark on him 
 and peeped off in the direction indicated. 
 
 "Gad," he exclaimed, gleefully clap 
 ping his hands, "there she goes on the 
 stage as a Moorish princess." 
 
 There was a storm of applause with 
 out. 
 
 "Bravo, Nelly, bravo!" he continued. 
 "She s caught the lads in the pit. They 
 
 [ 43 ]
 
 Mistress Nell 
 
 worship Nell out there." The old fellow 
 straightened up as if he felt a personal 
 pride in the audience for evincing such 
 good taste. 
 
 "Oons! Jack Hart struts about like a 
 young game-cock at his first fight," he ob 
 served. He broke into an infectious laugh, 
 which would have been a fine basso for 
 Nell s laugh. 
 
 From the manager, his eye turned to 
 ward the place which he himself had 
 once occupied among the musicians. He 
 began to dance up and down with both 
 feet, his knees well bent, boy-fashion, and 
 to clap his hands wildly. " Look ye, little 
 Tompkins got my old place with the fid 
 dle. Whack, de-doodle-de-do! Whack, 
 de-doodle, de-doodle-de-do!" he cried, 
 giving grotesque imitations to his own 
 great glee of his successor as leader of the 
 orchestra. 
 
 Then, shaking his head, confident of 
 his own superiority with the bow, he 
 turned back into the greenroom and, with 
 his mouth half full of orange, uttered the 
 droll diftum : " It will take more than cat- 
 
 [ 44 ]
 
 A Merry Tale of a Merry Time 
 
 gut and horse-hair to make you a fiddler, 
 Tommy, my boy." 
 
 Thus Strings stood blandly sucking his 
 orange with personal satisfaction in the 
 centre of the room, when Dick entered 
 from the stage. The call-boy paused as if 
 he could not believe his eyes. He looked 
 and looked again. 
 
 " Heigh-ho ! " he exclaimed at last, and 
 then rushed across the room to greet the 
 old fiddler. " Why, Strings, I thought we 
 would never see you again; how fares it 
 with you?" 
 
 Strings placed the orange which he 
 had been eating and which he knew full 
 well was none of his own well behind 
 him; and, assuming an unconcerned and 
 serious air, he replied : " Odd ! A little the 
 worse for wear, Dickey, me and the old 
 fiddle, but still smiling with the world." 
 There was a bit of a twinkle in his eye 
 as he spoke. 
 
 Dick, ever mindful of the welfare and 
 appearance of the theatre, unhooked from 
 the wall a huge shield, which mayhap 
 had served some favourite knight of yore, 
 
 [45 ]
 
 Mistress Nell 
 
 and, using it as a tray, proceeded to gather 
 the scattered fruit. 
 
 "Have an orange?" he inquired of 
 Strings, who still stood in a refleclive 
 mood in the centre of the room, as he 
 rested in his labours by him. 
 
 "How; do they belong to you?" de 
 manded Strings. 
 
 "Oh, no," admitted Dick, "but" 
 
 The fiddler instantly assumed an air of 
 injured innocence. 
 
 " How dare you," he cried, " offer me 
 what don t belong to you?" He turned 
 upon the boy almost ferociously at the 
 bare thought. " Honesty is the best pol 
 icy," he continued, seriously. "I have 
 tried both, lad"; and, in his eagerness to 
 impress upon the boy the seriousness of 
 taking that which does not belong to 
 you, he gestured inadvertently with the 
 hand which till now had held the stolen 
 orange well behind him. 
 
 Dick s eye fell upon it, and so did 
 Strings s. There was a moment s awk 
 wardness, and then both burst into a peal 
 of joyous laughter. 
 
 [46]
 
 A Merry Tale of a Merry Time 
 
 "Oh, well, egad, I will join you, 
 Dick," said Strings, with more patronage 
 still than apology. He seated himself 
 upon the table and began anew to suck 
 his orange in philosophic fashion. 
 
 " But, mind you, lad; never again offer 
 that which is not your own, for there 
 you are twice cursed," he discoursed 
 pompously. "You make him who re 
 ceives guilty of your larceny. Oons, my 
 old wound." He winced from pain. " He 
 becomes an accomplice in your crime. 
 So says the King s law. Hush, lad, I am 
 devouring the evidence of your guilt." 
 
 The boy by this time had placed the 
 shield of oranges in the corner of the 
 room and had returned to listen to 
 Strings s discourse. "You speak with the 
 learning of a solicitor," he said, as he 
 looked respectfully into the old fiddler s 
 face. 
 
 Strings met the glance with due dig 
 nity. 
 
 "Marry, I ve often been in the pres 
 ence of -a judge," he replied, with great 
 solemnity. His face reflected the ups and 
 
 [ 47 ]
 
 Mistress Nell 
 
 downs in his career as he made the con 
 fession. 
 
 " Is that where you have been, Strings, 
 all these long days?" asked Dick, inno 
 cently. 
 
 "Heaven forbid!" exclaimed Strings, 
 with sadly retrospective countenance. 
 "Travelling, lad contemplating the 
 world, from the King s highways. Take 
 note, my boy, a prosperous man! I 
 came into the world without a rag that 
 I could call my own, and now I have an 
 abundance. Saith the philosopher: Some 
 men are born to rags, some achieve rags 
 and some have rags thrust upon them." 
 
 "I wish you were back with us, 
 Strings," said the boy, sympathetically, 
 as he put a hand upon Strings s broad 
 shoulder and looked admiringly up into 
 his face. 
 
 " I wish so myself," replied the fiddler. 
 Thrice a day, I grow lonesome here." 
 A weather-beaten hand indicated the 
 spot where good dinners should be. 
 
 " They have n t all forgot you, Strings," 
 continued his companion, consolingly. 
 
 [ 48 ]
 
 A Merry Tale of a Merry Time 
 
 "Right, lad!" said Strings, musingly, 
 as he lifted the old viol close against his 
 cheek and tenderly picked it. "The old 
 fiddle is true to me yet, though there is 
 but one string left to its dear old neck." 
 There was a sob in his voice as he spoke. 
 "I tell you, a fiddle s human, Dick! It 
 laughs at my jokes alone now; it weeps 
 at my sorrows." He sighed deeply and 
 the tears glistened in his eyes. "The fid 
 dle is the only friend left me and the 
 little ones at home now, my lad." 
 
 " And Dick!" the boy suggested, 
 somewhat hurt. He too was weeping. 
 "It s a shame; that s what it is!" he 
 broke out, indignantly. "Tompkins can t 
 play the music like you used to, Strings." 
 
 "Oons!" exclaimed the fiddler, the 
 humour in his nature bubbling again to 
 the surface. "It s only now and then the 
 Lord has time to make a fiddler, Dickey, 
 my boy." 
 
 As he spoke, the greenroom shook 
 with the rounds of applause from the pit 
 and galleries without. 
 
 "Hurrah!" he shouted, following 
 
 [49]
 
 Mistress Nell 
 
 Dick to the stage-door his own sorrows 
 melting before the sunshine of his joy at 
 the success of his favourite. "Nell has 
 caught them with the epilogue." He 
 danced gleefully about, entering heartily 
 into the applause and totally forgetful of 
 the facl that he was on dangerous ground. 
 
 Dick was more watchful. "Manager 
 Hart s coming ! " he exclaimed in startled 
 voice, fearful for the welfare of his friend. 
 
 Strings collapsed. "Oh, Lord, let me 
 be gone," he said, as he remembered the 
 bitter quarrel he had had with the man 
 ager of the King s House, which ended 
 in the employment of Tompkins. He 
 did not yearn for another interview; for 
 Hart had forbidden him the theatre on 
 pain of whipping. 
 
 "Where can you hide?" whispered 
 Dick, woefully, as the manager s voice 
 indicated that he was approaching the 
 greenroom, and that too in far from the 
 best of humour. 
 
 "Behind Richard s throne-chair! It 
 has held sinners before now," added the 
 fiddler as he glided well out of sight. 
 
 [ 5 ]
 
 A Merry Tale of a Merry Time 
 
 Dick was more cautious. In a twink 
 ling, he was out of the door which led 
 to the street. 
 
 The greenroom walls looked grim in 
 the sputtering candle-light, but they had 
 naught to say. 
 
 The door from the stage opened, and 
 in came Nell. There was something sadly 
 beautiful and pathetic in her face. She 
 had enjoyed but now one of the grandest 
 triumphs known to the theatre, and yet 
 she seemed oblivious to the applause and 
 bravas, to the lights and to the royalty. 
 
 A large bouquet of flowers was in her 
 arms a bouquet of red roses. Her lips 
 touched them reverently. Her eyes, how 
 ever, were far away in a dream of the 
 past. 
 
 " From the hand of the King of Eng 
 land!" she mused softly to herself. "The 
 King? How like his face to the youthful 
 cavalier, who weary and worn reined in 
 his steed a summer s day, now long ago, 
 and took a gourd of water from my hand. 
 Could he have been the King? Pooh, 
 pooh! I dream again."
 
 Mistress Nell 
 
 She turned away, as from herself, with 
 a heart-heavy laugh. The manager en 
 tered from the stage. 
 
 " See, Jack, my flowers," she said, again 
 in an ecstasy of happiness. "Are they not 
 exquisite?" 
 
 " He took them from Castlemaine s 
 hand to throw to you," snarled Hart, 
 jealously. 
 
 "The sweeter, then!" and Nell broke 
 into a tantalizing laugh. " Mayhap he 
 was teaching the player-king to do like 
 wise, Jack," she added, roguishly, as she 
 arranged the flowers in a vase. 
 
 "I am in no mood for wit-thrusts," 
 replied Hart as he fretfully paced the 
 room. "You played that scene like an 
 icicle." 
 
 " In sooth, your acling froze me," slyly 
 retorted Nell, kindly but pointedly. She 
 took the sweetest roses from the bunch, 
 kissed them and arranged them in her 
 bosom. 
 
 This did not improve Hart s temper. 
 
 Strings seized the opportunity to es 
 cape from his hiding-place to the stage. 
 
 [ 52 ]
 
 A Merry Tale of a Merry Time 
 
 " I say, you completely ruined my 
 work," said Hart. " The audience were 
 rightly displeased." 
 
 "With you, perhaps," suggested Nell. 
 " I did not observe the feeling." 
 
 Hart could no longer control himself. 
 "You vilely read those glorious lines: 
 
 "See how the gazing People crowd the Place; 
 All gaping to be fill d with my Disgrace. 
 That Shout, like the hoarse Peals of Vultures 
 
 rings, 
 When, over fighting Fields they beat their 
 
 wings." 
 
 "And how should I read them, dear 
 master? " she asked demurely of her vain 
 glorious preceptor. 
 
 " Like I read them, in sooth," replied 
 he, well convinced that his reading could 
 not be bettered. 
 
 "Like you read them, in sooth," re 
 plied Nell, meekly. She took the floor 
 and repeated the lines with the precise 
 action and trick of voice which Hart had 
 used. Every "r"was well trilled; "gap 
 ing" was pronounced with an anaconda- 
 
 [ 53 ]
 
 Mistress Nell 
 
 look, as though she were about to swal 
 low the theatre, audience and all; and, 
 as she spoke the line, " When, over fight 
 ing Fields they beat their wings," she 
 raised her arms and shoulders in imita 
 tion of some barn-yard fowl vainly essay 
 ing flight and swept across the room, the 
 piclure of grace in ungracefulness. 
 
 " Tis monstrous!" exclaimed Hart, 
 bitterly, as he realized the travesty. "You 
 cannot act and never could. I was a fool 
 to engage you." 
 
 Nell was back by the vase, toying with 
 the flowers. "London applauds my act 
 ing," she suggested, indifferently. 
 
 "London applauds the face and figure; 
 not the art," replied Hart. 
 
 "London is wise; for the art is in the 
 face and figure, Master Jack. You told 
 me so yourself," she added, sharply, 
 pointing her finger at her adversary in 
 quick condemnation. She turned away 
 triumphant. 
 
 "I was a fool like the rest," replied 
 Hart, visibly irritated that he could not 
 get the better of the argument. 
 
 [ 54 ]
 
 A Merry Tale of a Merry Time 
 
 "Come, don t be angry," said Nell. 
 Her manner had changed; for her heart 
 had made her fearful lest her tongue had 
 been unkind. "Mayhap Almahyde is the 
 last part Nell will ever play." She looked 
 thoughtfully into the bunch of roses. Did 
 she see a prophecy there? 
 
 He approached the table where she 
 stood. "Your head is turned by the flow 
 ers," he said, bitterly. "An honest mo 
 tive, no doubt, prompted the royal gift." 
 
 Nell turned sharply upon him. Her 
 lips trembled, but one word only came 
 to them "Jack!" 
 
 Hart s eyes fell under the rebuke; for 
 he knew that only anger prompted what 
 he had said. He would have struck an 
 other for the same words. 
 
 " Pardon, Nell," he said, softly. " My 
 heart rebukes my tongue. I love you!" 
 
 Nell stepped back to the mirror, con 
 templating herself, bedecked as she was 
 with the flowers. In an instant she forgot 
 all, and replied playfully to Hart s confes 
 sion of love: "Of course, you do. How 
 could you help it? So do others." 
 
 [ 55 ]
 
 Mistress Nell 
 
 "I love you better than the rest," he 
 added, vehemently, " better than my life." 
 He tried to put his arms about her. 
 
 Nell, however, was by him like a flash. 
 
 " Not so fast, dear sir," she said, coyly; 
 and she tiptoed across the room and en 
 sconced herself high in the throne-chair. 
 
 Hart followed and knelt below her, 
 adoring. 
 
 "Admit that I can act a little just 
 a little dear Hart, or tell me no more of 
 love." She spoke with the half-amused, 
 half-indifferent air of a beautiful princess 
 to some servant-suitor; and she was, in 
 deed, most lovable as she leaned back in 
 the great throne-chair. She seemed a 
 queen and the theatre her realm. Her 
 beautiful arms shone white in the flicker 
 ing candle-light. Her sceptre was a rose 
 which the King of England had given her. 
 
 Hart stepped back and looked upon 
 the picture. "By heaven, Nell," he cried, 
 " I spoke in anger. You are the most mar 
 vellous aclress in the world. Nature, art 
 and genius crown your work." 
 
 Nell smiled at his vehemence. " I begin 
 
 [ 56 ]
 
 A Merry ^Tale of a Merry Time 
 
 to think that you have taste most excel 
 lent," she said. 
 
 Hart sprang to her side, filled with 
 hope. As the stage-lover he ne er spoke in 
 tenderer tones. " Sweet Nell, when I found 
 you in the pit, a ragged orange-girl, I saw 
 the sparkle in your eye, the bright intel 
 ligence, the magic genius, which artists 
 love. I claimed you for my art, which 
 is the art of arts for it embraces all. I had 
 the theatre. I gave it you. You captured 
 the Lane then London. You captured 
 my soul as well, and held it slave." 
 
 "Did I do all that, dear Jack?" she 
 asked, wistfully. 
 
 "And more," said Hart, rapturously. 
 "You captured my years to come, my 
 hope, ambition, love all. All centred 
 in your heart and eyes, sweet Nell, from 
 the hour I first beheld you." 
 
 Nell s look was far away. "Is love so 
 beautiful?" she murmured softly. Her 
 eye fell upon her sceptre-rose. "Yea, I 
 begin to think it is." She mused a mo 
 ment, until the silence seemed to awaken 
 her. She looked into Hart s eyes again, 
 
 [ 57 ]
 
 Mistress Nell 
 
 sadly but firmly, then spoke as with an 
 effort: "You paint the picture well, dear 
 Jack. Paint on." Her hand waved com- 
 mandingly. 
 
 "I could not paint ill with such a 
 model," said he, his voice full of adoration. 
 
 " Well said," she replied; " and by my 
 troth, I have relented like you, dear Jack. 
 I admit you too can acl: and marvel 
 lously well." She took his trembling hand 
 and descended from the throne. He tried 
 once again to embrace her, but she avoided 
 him as before. 
 
 " Is t true? " he asked, eagerly, without 
 observing the hidden meaning in her 
 voice. 
 
 " Tis true, indeed with proper em 
 phasis and proper art and proper intona 
 tion." She crossed the room, Hart follow 
 ing her. 
 
 " I scarce can live for joy," he breathed. 
 
 Nell leaned back upon the table and 
 looked knowingly and deeply into Hart s 
 eyes. Her voice grew very low, but clear 
 and full of meaning. 
 
 " In faith," she said, " I trow and sadly
 
 A Merry Tale of a Merry Time 
 
 speak but true; for I am sad at times 
 yea very sad when I observe, with all 
 my woman s wiles and arts, I cannot a6l 
 the hypocrite like men. * 
 
 "What mean you, darling cynic?" 
 asked he, jocosely. 
 
 "Darling!" she cried, repeating the 
 word, with a peculiar look. "To tell two 
 girls within the hour you love each to the 
 death would be in me hypocrisy, I admit, 
 beyond my art; but you men can do such 
 things with conscience clear." 
 
 Hart turned away his face. " She s found 
 me out," he thought. 
 
 " Nell, I never loved the Spanish danc 
 ing-girl. You know I love but you." 
 
 "Oh, ho!" laughed Nell. "Then why 
 did you tell her so? to break her heart 
 or mine?" 
 
 The manager stood confused. He scarce 
 knew what to say. 
 
 " You are cruel, Nell," he pleaded, fret 
 fully. "You never loved me, never." 
 
 "Did I ever say I did?" 
 
 Hart shook his head sadly. 
 
 " Come, don t pout, Jack. An armistice 
 
 [ 59 ]
 
 Mistress Nell 
 
 in this, my friend, for you were my friend 
 in the old days when I needed one, and I 
 love you for that." She placed her hands 
 kindly on the manager s shoulders, then 
 turned and began to arrange anew the 
 gift-flowers in the vase. 
 
 "I ll win your life s love, Nell, in 
 spite of you," he said, determinedly. 
 
 She turned her honest eyes upon him. 
 "Nay, do not try; believe me, do not 
 try," she said softly. 
 
 "Nell, you do not mean ?" His 
 voice faltered. 
 
 "You must not love me," she said, 
 firmly; "believe me, you must not." 
 
 "I must not love you!" His voice 
 scarcely breathed the words. 
 
 There, there; we are growing senti 
 mental, Jack, and at our age," she re 
 plied. She laughed gaily and started for 
 her tiring-room. 
 
 He followed her. 
 
 "Sup with me, Nell," he pleaded. 
 "No word of this, I promise you." 
 
 Heyday, I ll see how good you are, 
 Jack," she answered, cordially. 
 
 [ 60 ]
 
 A Merry Ta/e of a Merry Time 
 
 " My second bid to sup to-night," she 
 thought. "Who sets the better feast?" 
 
 The tiring-room door was open; and 
 the little candles danced gleefully about 
 the make-up mirror, for even candles 
 seemed happy when Nell came near. 
 The maid stood ready to assist her to a 
 gown and wrap, that she might leave the 
 theatre. 
 
 Nell turned. Hart still stood waiting. 
 The spirit of kindness o er-mastered her. 
 
 "Your hand, friend, your hand," she 
 said, taking the manager s hand. " When 
 next you try to win a woman s love, 
 don t throw away her confidence; for 
 you will never get it back again entire." 
 
 Hart bowed his head under the re 
 buke; and she entered her room.
 
 CHAPTER IV 
 
 Flowers and Music feed naught but Love. 
 
 A HE manager stood a moment look 
 ing through the half-closed door at Nell. 
 There was a strange mingling of contend 
 ing forces at work in his nature. To be 
 sure, he had trifled with the affections of 
 the Spanish dancing-girl, a new arrival 
 from Madrid and one of the latest attrac 
 tions of the King s House; but it was his 
 pride, when he discovered that Nell s 
 sharp eyes had found him out, that suf 
 fered, not his conscience. Was he not the 
 fascinating aclor-manager of the House? 
 Could he prevent the ladies loving him? 
 Must he be accused of not loving Nell, 
 simply because his charms had edified the 
 shapely new-comer? Nell s rebuke had 
 depressed him, but there was a smoul 
 dering fire within. " Slife! " he muttered. 
 " If I do not steal my way into Nell s 
 heart, I 11 abandon the rouge-box and till 
 the soil." [ 62 1
 
 A Merry Tale of a Merry 
 
 As he approached his tiring-room, he 
 bethought him that it would be well first 
 to have an oversight of the theatre. He 
 turned accordingly and pulled open the 
 door that led to the stage. 
 
 As he did so, a figure fell into the 
 greenroom, grasping devotedly a violin, 
 lest his fall might injure it. Strings had 
 been biding his time, waiting an oppor 
 tunity to see Nell, and had fallen asleep 
 behind the door. 
 
 "How now, dog!" exclaimed the 
 manager when he saw who the intruder 
 was. 
 
 Strings hastened to his feet and hob 
 bled across the room. 
 
 " I told you not to set foot here again," 
 shouted Hart, following him virulently. 
 
 Strings bowed meekly. " I thought the 
 King s House in need of a player; so I 
 came back, sir," said he. 
 
 Hart was instantly beside himself. 
 "Zounds!" he stormed. "I have had 
 enough impudence to contend with to 
 night. Begone; or up you go for a va 
 grant."
 
 Mistress Nell 
 
 " I called on Mistress Gwyn, sir," ex 
 plained Strings. 
 
 "Mistress Gwyn does not receive 
 drunkards," fiercely retorted Hart; and 
 he started hastily to the stage-door and 
 called loudly for his force of men to put 
 the fiddler out. 
 
 Nell s door was still ajar. She had re 
 moved the roses from her hair and dress. 
 She caught at once her name. Indeed, 
 there was little that went on which Nell 
 did not see or hear, even though walls 
 intervened. "Who takes my name in 
 vain?" she called. Her head popped 
 through the opening left by the door, 
 and she scanned the room. 
 
 As her eye fell upon the old fiddler, 
 who had often played songs and dances 
 for her in days gone by, a cry of joy came 
 from her lips. She rushed into the green 
 room and threw both arms about Strings s 
 neck. "My old comrade, as I live," she 
 cried, dancing about him. "I am joyed 
 to see you, Strings!" 
 
 Turning, she saw the manager eying 
 them with fiery glances. She knew the
 
 A Merry Ta/e of a Merry "Time 
 
 situation and the feeling. "Jack, is it not 
 good to have Strings back?" she asked, 
 sweetly. 
 
 Hart s face grew livid with anger. He 
 could see the merry devil dancing in her 
 eye and on her tongue. He knew the hoy 
 den well. "Gad, I will resign manage 
 ment." He turned on his heel, entered his 
 tiring-room and closed the door, none too 
 gently. He feared to tarry longer, lest he 
 might say too much. 
 
 Nell broke into a merry laugh; and 
 the fiddler chuckled. 
 
 "You desert me these days, Strings," 
 she said, as she leaned against the table 
 and fondly eyed the wayfarer of the tat 
 tered garments and convivial spirits. 
 
 " I don t love your lackey-in-waiting, 
 Mistress Nell," said he, with a wink in 
 the direction of the departed manager. 
 
 "Poor Jack. Never mind him," she 
 said, with a roguish laugh, though with 
 no touch of malice in it, for there was 
 devil without malice in Nell s soul. 
 
 As she again sought the eyes of the 
 fiddler, her face grew thoughtful. She
 
 Mistress Nell 
 
 spoke hesitated and then spoke again, 
 as if the thought gave her pain. " Have 
 you kept your word to me, Strings, and 
 stopped drinking? " she asked. The last 
 word fell faintly, tremblingly, from her 
 lips almost inaudibly. 
 
 " Mistress Nell, I I " Strings s eyes 
 fell quickly. 
 
 Nell s arm was lovingly about him in 
 an instant. "There, there; don t tell me, 
 Strings. Try again, and come and see me 
 often." There was a delicacy in her voice 
 and way more beautiful than the finest 
 acling. The words had hurt her more 
 than him. She changed her manner in an 
 instant. 
 
 Not so with Strings. The tears were 
 in his eyes. "Mistress Nell, you are so 
 good to me," he said; "and I am such a 
 wretch." 
 
 " So you are, Strings," and she laughed 
 merrily. 
 
 " I have taught my little ones at home 
 who it is that keeps the wolf from our 
 door," he continued. 
 
 " Not a word of that! " she exclaimed, 
 [ 66]
 
 A Merry Tale of a Merry Time 
 
 reprovingly. "Poor old fellow!" Her 
 eyes grew big and bright as she reflected 
 on the days she had visited the fiddler s 
 home and on the happiness her gifts had 
 brought his children. For her, giving was 
 better than receiving. The feeling sprang 
 from the fulness of her own joy at see 
 ing those about her happy, and not from 
 the teachings of priests or prelates. Dame 
 Nature was her sole preceptor in this. 
 
 "I ll bring the babes another sugar 
 plum to-morrow. I haven t a farthing 
 to-night. Moll ran away with the earn 
 ings, and there is no one left to rob," she 
 said. 
 
 " Heyday," and she ran lightly to the 
 vase and caught up the flowers. " Take the 
 flowers to the bright eyes, to make them 
 brighter." They would at least add cheer 
 fulness to the room where Strings lived 
 until she could bring something better. 
 
 As she looked at the roses, she began to 
 realize how dear they were becoming to 
 herself, for they were the King s gift; and 
 her heart beat quickly and she touched 
 the great red petals lovingly with her lips.
 
 Mistress Nell 
 
 Strings took the flowers awkwardly; 
 and, as he did so, something fell upon 
 the floor. He knelt and picked it up, in 
 his eagerness letting the roses fall. 
 
 "A ring among the flowers, Mistress 
 Nell," he cried. 
 
 "A ring!" she exclaimed, taking the 
 jewel quickly. Her lips pressed the set 
 ting. "Bless his heart ! A ring from his 
 finger," she continued half aloud. "Is it 
 not handsome, Strings?" Her eyes spar 
 kled brightly and there was a triumphant 
 smile upon her lips. 
 
 The fiddler s face, however, was grave; 
 his eyes were on the floor. 
 
 " How many have rings like that, while 
 others starve," he mused, seriously. 
 
 Nell held the jewel at arm s length 
 and watched its varying brightness in the 
 candle-light. "We can moralize, now we 
 have the ring," she said, by way of re 
 joinder, then broke into a ringing laugh 
 at her own way-of-the-world philoso 
 phizing. " Bless the giver! " she added, in 
 a mood of rhapsody. 
 
 She turned, only again to observe the 
 [ 68 ]
 
 A Merry Tale of a Merry Time 
 
 sad countenance of Strings. "Alack-a- 
 day ! Why do you not take the nosegay? " 
 she asked, wonderingly; for she herself 
 was so very happy that she could not see 
 why Strings too should not be so. 
 
 " It will not feed my little ones, Mis 
 tress Nell," he answered, sadly. 
 
 Nell s heart was touched in an instant. 
 "Too true!" she said, sympathetically, 
 falling on her knee and lovingly gathering 
 up the roses. "Flowers and Music feed 
 naught but Love, and often then Love 
 goes hungry very hungry." Her voice 
 was so sweet and tender that it seemed as 
 though the old viol had caught the notes. 
 
 "Last night, Mistress Nell," said 
 Strings, "the old fiddle played its sweet 
 est melody for them, but they cried as if 
 their tiny hearts would break. They were 
 starving, and I had nothing but music 
 for them." 
 
 " Starving! " Nell listened to the word 
 as though at first she did not realize its 
 meaning. "What can I send?" she cried, 
 looking about in vain and into her tiring- 
 room.
 
 Mistress Nell 
 
 Her eyes fell suddenly upon the rich 
 jewel upon her finger. "No, no; I can 
 not think of that," she thought. 
 
 Then the word "starving" came back 
 to her again with all its force. " Starv 
 ing!" Her imagination pictured all its 
 horrors. "Starving" seemed written on 
 every wall and on the ceiling. It pierced 
 her heart and brain. "Yes, I will," she 
 exclaimed, wildly. "Here, Strings, old 
 fellow, take the ring to the babes, to cut 
 their teeth on." 
 
 Strings stood aghast. "No, Mistress 
 Nell; it is a present. You must not," he 
 protested. 
 
 "There are others where that came 
 from," generously laughed Nell. 
 
 "You must not; you are too kind," he 
 continued, firmly. 
 
 "Pooh, pooh! I insist," said Nell as 
 she forced the jewel upon him. "It will 
 make a pretty mouthful; and, besides, 
 I do not want my jewels to outshine 
 me." 
 
 Strings would have followed her and 
 insisted upon her taking back the beau- 
 
 [ 7 ]
 
 A Merry Tale of a Merry Time 
 
 tiful gift, but Nell was gone in an instant 
 and her door closed. 
 
 "To cut their teeth on!" he repeated 
 as he placed the jewelled ring wonder- 
 ingly upon his bow-finger and watched it 
 sparkle and laugh in the light as he pre 
 tended to play a tune. " She is always jok 
 ing like that; Heaven reward her." 
 
 He stood lost in the realization of sud 
 den affluence. 
 
 Buckingham entered the room from 
 the stage-door. His eyes were full of ex 
 citement. "The audience are wild over 
 Nell, simply wild," he exclaimed in his 
 enthusiasm, unconscious of the fact that 
 he had an auditor, who was equally ob 
 livious of his lordship s presence. "Gad," 
 he continued, rapturously, half aloud, 
 half to himself, "when they are stum 
 bling home through London fog, the 
 great comedienne will be playing o er the 
 love-scenes with Buckingham in a cosy 
 corner of an inn. She will not dare deny 
 my bid to supper, with all her impudence. 
 Un petit souper!" He broke into a laugh. 
 " Tis well Old Rowley was too en- 
 

 
 Mistress Nell 
 
 gaged to look twice at Nelly s eyes," he 
 thought. " His Majesty shall never meet 
 the wench at arm s length, an I can 
 help it." 
 
 He observed or rather became aware 
 for the first time that there was another 
 occupant of the room. 
 
 "Ah, sirrah," he called, without not 
 ing the character of his companion, "in 
 form Mistress Nell, Buckingham is wait- 
 ing." 
 
 Strings looked up. He seemed to have 
 grown a foot in contemplation of his 
 sudden wealth. Indeed, each particular 
 tatter on his back seemed to have assumed 
 an independent air. 
 
 "Inform her yourself!" he declared; 
 and his manner might well have become 
 the dress of Buckingham. "Lord Strings 
 is not your lackey this season." 
 
 Buckingham gazed at him in aston 
 ishment, followed by amusement. " Lord 
 Strings!" he observed. "Lord Rags!" 
 
 Strings approached his lordship with 
 a familiar, princely air. "How does that 
 look on my bow-finger, my lord? " and he 
 
 [ 72 ]
 
 A Merry Tale of a Merry Time 
 
 flourished his hand wearing the ring where 
 Buckingham could well observe it. 
 
 His lordship started. "The King s 
 ring! " he would have exclaimed, had not 
 the diplomat in his nature restrained him. 
 "A fine stone!" he said merely. "How 
 came you by it?" 
 
 " Nell gave it to me," Strings answered. 
 
 Buckingham nearly revealed himself in 
 his astonishment. "Nell!" he muttered; 
 and his face grew black as he wondered 
 if his Majesty had out-generalled him. 
 " Damme," he observed aloud, inspecting 
 the ring closely, " I have taken a fancy to 
 this gem." 
 
 "So have I," ejaculated Strings, as he 
 avoided his lordship and strutted across 
 the room. 
 
 " I 11 give you fifty guineas for it," said 
 Buckingham, following him more eagerly 
 than the driver of a good bargain is wont. 
 
 Strings stood nonplussed. " Fifty guin 
 eas!" he exclaimed, aghast. This was 
 more money than the fiddler had ever 
 thought existed. " Now? " he asked, won- 
 deringly. 
 
 [73 ]
 
 Mistress Nell 
 
 " Now," replied his lordship, who pro 
 ceeded at once to produce the glittering 
 coins and toss them temptingly before the 
 fiddler s eyes. 
 
 "Oons, Nell surely meant me to sell 
 it," he cried as he eagerly seized the gold 
 and fed his eyes upon it. " Odsbud, I al 
 ways did love yellow." He tossed some of 
 the coins in the air and caught them with 
 the dexterity of a juggler. 
 
 Buckingham grew impatient. He de 
 sired a delivery. "Give me the ring," he 
 demanded. 
 
 Strings looked once more at the glitter 
 ing gold; and visions of the plenty which 
 it insured to his little home, to say nothing 
 of a flagon or two of good brown ale which 
 could be had by himself and his boon com 
 rades without disparagement to the din 
 ners of the little ones, came before him. If 
 he had ever possessed moral courage, it 
 was gone upon the instant. "Done!" he 
 exclaimed. " Oons, fifty guineas! " and he 
 handed the ring to Buckingham. 
 
 The fiddler was still absorbed in his 
 possessions, whispering again and again 
 
 [ 74]
 
 A Merry Tale of a Merry Time 
 
 to the round bits of yellow: "My little 
 bright-eyes will not go to bed hungry 
 to-night!" when Manager Hart entered 
 proudly from his tiring-room, dressed to 
 leave the theatre. 
 
 Buckingham nodded significantly. 
 "Not a word of this," he said, indi 
 cating the ring, which he had quickly 
 transferred to his own finger, turning the 
 jewel so that it could not be observed. 
 
 " Sdeath, you still here?" said Hart, 
 sharply, as his eyes fell upon the fiddler. 
 
 Strings straightened up and puffed 
 with the pomposity and pride of a landed 
 proprietor. He shook his newly acquired 
 possessions until the clinking of the gold 
 was plainly audible to the manager. 
 
 " Still here, Master Hart, negotiating. 
 When you are pressed for coin, call on 
 me, Master Hart. I run the Exchequer," 
 he said, patronizingly. It was humorous 
 to see his air of sweeping condescension 
 toward the tall and dignified manager of 
 the theatre who easily overtopped him by 
 a head. 
 
 "Gold!" exclaimed Hart, as he ob- 
 
 [75 ]
 
 Mistress Nell 
 
 served the glitter of the guineas in the can 
 dle-light. His eyes turned quickly and sus 
 piciously upon the lordly Buckingham. 
 
 There was nothing, however, in his 
 lordship s face to indicate that he was 
 aware even of the existence of the fiddler 
 or of his gold. He sat by the table, leaning 
 carelessly upon it, his face filled with an 
 expression of supreme satisfaction. He had 
 the attitude of one who was waiting for 
 somebody or something and confidently 
 expected not to be disappointed. 
 
 "Sup with me, Hart," continued 
 Strings, with the air of a boon com 
 rade. "Sup with me venison, capons, 
 and Epsom water." 
 
 " Thank you, I am engaged to supper," 
 replied Hart, contemptuously, brushing 
 his cloak where it had been touched by 
 the fiddler, as if his fingers had contami 
 nated it. 
 
 The insult clearly observable in the 
 manager s tone, however, had no effect 
 whatever upon Strings. He tossed his head 
 proudly and said indifferently : " Oh, very 
 well. Strings will sup with Strings. My 
 
 [ 76 ]
 
 A Merry Tale of a Merry Time 
 
 coach, my coach, I say. Drive me to my 
 bonnie babes!" 
 
 He pushed open the door with a lordly 
 air and passed out; and, for some seconds, 
 they heard a mingling of repeated de 
 mands for the coach and a strain of music 
 which sounded like "Away dull care; 
 prythee away from me." 
 
 Buckingham had observed the fiddler s 
 tilt with the manager and the royal exit 
 of the ragged fellow with much amuse 
 ment. "A merry wag! Who is that?" he 
 asked, as Strings s voice grew faint in the 
 entry-way. 
 
 Hart was strutting aclor-fashion before 
 the mirror, arranging his curls to hang 
 gracefully over his forehead and tilting 
 now and again the big plumed hat. "A 
 knave of fortune, it seems," he answered 
 coolly and still suspiciously. 
 
 "Family?" asked Buckingham, indif 
 ferently. 
 
 "Twins, I warrant," replied Hart, in 
 an irritated tone. 
 
 Buckingham chuckled softly. 
 
 "No wonder he s tattered and gray," 
 
 [ 77 ]
 
 Mistress Nell 
 
 he declared, humorously philosophizing 
 upon Hart s reply, though it was evident 
 that Hart himself was too much chafed 
 by the presence of his lordship in the 
 greenroom after the play to know what 
 he really had said. 
 
 An ominous coolness now pervaded 
 the atmosphere. Buckingham sat by the 
 table, impatiently tapping the floor with 
 his boot, his eyes growing dark at the 
 delay. Hart still plumed himself before 
 the mirror. His dress was rich; his sword 
 was well balanced, a Damascus blade; his 
 cloak hung gracefully; his big black hat 
 and plumes were jaunty. He had, too, 
 vigour in his step. With it all, however, 
 he was a social outcast, and he felt it, 
 while his companion, whose faults of na 
 ture were none the less glaring than his 
 own, was almost the equal of a king. 
 
 There was a tap at Nell s door. It was 
 the call-boy, who had slipped unobserved 
 into the room. 
 
 "What is it, Dick?" asked Nell, 
 sweetly, as she opened the door slightly 
 to inspect her visitor. 
 
 [ 78 ]
 
 A Merry Tale of a Merry Time 
 
 " A message, very important," whis 
 pered Dick, softly, as he passed a note 
 within. 
 
 "Thank you," replied the actress; and 
 the door closed again. 
 
 Dick was about to depart, when the 
 alert Buckingham, rising nastily from his 
 seat, called him. 
 
 "That was Nell s voice?" he asked. 
 
 "Yes, my lord. She s dressing," an 
 swered Dick. "Good night, Master 
 Hart," he added, as he saw the man 
 ager. 
 
 Hart, however, was not in a good hu 
 mour and turned sharply upon him. Dick 
 vanished. 
 
 " She will be out shortly, my lord," the 
 manager observed to Buckingham, some 
 what coldly. "But it will do you little 
 good," he thought, as he reflected upon 
 his conversation with Nell. 
 
 Buckingham leaned lazily over the 
 back of a chair and replied confidently, 
 knowing that his speech would be no 
 balm to the irate manager: "Nell always 
 keeps her engagements religiously with 
 
 [79 ]
 
 Mistress Nell 
 
 me. We are to sup together to-night, 
 Hart." 
 
 "Odso!" retorted the other, drawing 
 himself up to his full height. "You will 
 be disappointed, methinks." 
 
 "I trow not," Buckingham observed, 
 with a smile which made Hart wince. 
 "Pepys s wife has him mewed up at 
 home when Nelly plays, and the King 
 is tied to other apron-strings." His lord 
 ship chuckled as he bethought him how 
 cleverly he had managed that his Majesty 
 be under the proper influence. " What 
 danger else?" he inquired, cuttingly. 
 
 Though the words were mild, the feel 
 ings of the two men were at white-heat. 
 
 "Your lordship s hours are too valu 
 able to waste," politely suggested th e 
 manager. "I happen to know Mistress 
 Gwyn sups with another to-night." 
 
 "Another?" sneered his lordship. 
 
 "Another !" hotly repeated the aftor. 
 
 "We shall see, friend Hart," said 
 Buckingham, in a tone no less agreeable, 
 with difficulty restraining his feelings. 
 
 He threw himself impatiently into a 
 
 [ 8 ]
 
 A Merry Tale of a Merry Time 
 
 big arm-chair, which he had swung 
 around angrily, so that its back was to 
 the manager. 
 
 The insult was more than Hart could 
 bear. He also seized a chair, and vented his 
 vengeance upon it. Almost hurled from 
 its place, it fell back to back with Buck 
 ingham s. 
 
 " We shall see, my lord," he said as he 
 likewise angrily took his seat and folded 
 his arms. 
 
 It was like "The Schism" of Vibert. 
 
 It is difficult to tell what would have 
 been the result, had the place been dif 
 ferent. Each knew that Nell was just be 
 yond her door; each hesitated; and each, 
 with bitterness in his heart, held on to 
 himself. They sat like sphinxes. 
 
 Suddenly, Nell s door slightly opened. 
 She was dressed to leave the theatre. In 
 her hand she held a note. 
 
 "A fair message, on my honour ! Worth 
 reading twice or even thrice," she rogu 
 ishly exclaimed unto her maid as she 
 directed her to hold a candle nearer 
 that she might once again spell out its 
 
 [ 8 ]
 
 Mistress Nell 
 
 words. " To England s idol, the divine 
 Eleanor Gwyn. A holy apt beginning, 
 by the mass! My coach awaits you at 
 the stage-door. We will toast you to 
 night at Whitehall." 
 
 Nell s eyes seemed to drink in the 
 words, and it was her heart which said: 
 " Long live his Majesty." 
 
 She took the King s roses in her arms; 
 the Duke s roses, she tossed upon the floor. 
 
 The manager awoke as from a trance. 
 "You will not believe me," he said to 
 Buckingham, confidently. "Here comes 
 the arbiter of your woes, my lord." He 
 arose quickly. 
 
 "It will not be hard, methinks, sir, to 
 decide between a coronet and a player s 
 tinsel crown," observed his princely rival, 
 with a sneer, as he too arose and assumed 
 an attitude of waiting. 
 
 " Have acare,mylord. I may forget " 
 Hart s fingers played upon his sword-hilt. 
 
 "Your occupation, sir?" jeered Buck 
 ingham. 
 
 "Aye; my former occupation of a sol 
 dier"; and Hart s sword sprang from its
 
 A Merry Tale of a Merry Time 
 
 scabbard, with a dexterity that proved 
 that he had not forgotten the trick of war. 
 
 Buckingham too would have drawn, 
 but a merry voice stayed him. 
 
 " How now, gentlemen? " sprang from 
 Nell s rosy lips, as she came between 
 them, a picture of roguish beauty. 
 
 Hart s pose in an instant was that of 
 apology. "Pardon, Nell," he exclaimed, 
 lifting his hat and bowing in courtly 
 fashion. "A small difference of opinion; 
 naught else." 
 
 "Between friends," replied Nell, re 
 provingly. 
 
 "By the Gods," cried Buckingham, 
 and his hat too was in the air and his 
 knee too was bent before the theatre- 
 queen, "the rewards are worth more 
 than word-combats." 
 
 " Pshaw ! " said Nell, as she hugged the 
 King s roses tighter in her arms. "True 
 Englishmen fight shoulder to shoulder, 
 not face to face." 
 
 "In this case," replied his lordship, 
 with the air of a conqueror, "the booty 
 cannot be amicably distributed." 
 
 [ 83 ]
 
 Mistress Nell 
 
 " Oh, ho ! "cried Nell. " Brave generals, 
 quarrelling over the spoils. Pooh! There 
 is no girl worth fighting for that is, not 
 over one ! Buckingham ! Jack ! For shame ! 
 What coquette kindles this hot blood?" 
 
 "The fairest maid in England," said 
 Hart, with all the earnestness of convic 
 tion, and with all the courtesy of the 
 theatre, which teaches courtesy. 
 
 "The dearest girl in all this world," 
 said Buckingham as quickly; for he too 
 must bow if he would win. 
 
 " How stupid ! " lisped Nell, with a look 
 of baby-innocence. "You must mean me! 
 Who else could answer the description? 
 A quarrel over poor me ! This is delicious. 
 I love a fight. Out with your swords and 
 to t like men! To the victor! Come, 
 name the quarrel." 
 
 "This player " began his lordship, 
 hotly. He caught the quick gleam in 
 Nell s eyes and hesitated. " I mean," he 
 substituted, apologetically, " Master Hart 
 labours under the misapprehension that 
 you sup with him to-night." 
 
 "Nell," asserted the manager, defen-
 
 A Merry Tale of a Merry Time 
 
 sively, "it is his lordship who suffers 
 from the delusion that the first aclress 
 of England sups with him to-night." 
 
 "My arm and coach are yours, ma- 
 dame," pleaded his lordship, as he gal 
 lantly offered an arm. 
 
 " Pardon, my lord ; Nell, my arm ! " said 
 Hart. 
 
 "Heyday!" cried the witch, bewitch- 
 ingly. " Was ever maid so nobly squired? 
 This is an embarrassment of riches." 
 She looked longingly at the two attend 
 ing gallants. There was something in her 
 voice that might be mockery or that 
 might be love. Only the devil in her 
 eyes could tell. 
 
 " Gentlemen, you tear my heart 
 strings," she continued. " How can I 
 choose between such loves? To-night, I 
 sup at Whitehall ! " and she darted quickly 
 toward the door. 
 
 "Whitehall!" the rivals cried, aghast. 
 
 "Aye, Whitehall with the King!" 
 
 There was a wild, hilarious laugh, and 
 she was gone. 
 
 Buckingham and Hart stood looking
 
 Mistress Nell 
 
 into each other s face. They heard the 
 sound of coach-wheels rapidly departing 
 in the street. 
 
 $mg
 
 CHAPTER V 
 
 /? was never treason to steal a King s kisses. 
 
 J\ YEAR and more had flown. 
 
 It was one of those glorious moon-lit 
 nights in the early fall when there is a 
 crispness in the air which lends an edge 
 to life. 
 
 St. James s Park was particularly beau 
 tiful. The giant oaks with their hundreds 
 of years of story written in their rings 
 lifted high their spreading branches, laden 
 with leaves, which shimmered in the 
 light. The historic old park seemed to be 
 made up of patches of day and night. In 
 the open, one might read in the mellow 
 glow of the harvest-moon; in the shade of 
 one of its oaks, a thief might safely hide. 
 
 Facing on the park, there stood a house 
 of Elizabethan architecture. Along its 
 wrinkled, ivy-mantled wall ran a terrace- 
 like balustrade, where one might walk and 
 enjoy the night without fear. 
 
 [ 8? ]
 
 Mistress Nell 
 
 The house was well defined by the rays 
 of the moon, which seemed to dance upon 
 it in a halo of mirth; and from the park, 
 below the terrace, came the soft notes of 
 a violin, tenderly picked. 
 
 None other than Strings was sitting 
 astride of a low branch of an oak, look 
 ing up at a window, like some guardian 
 spirit from the devil-land, singing in his 
 quaintly uncluous way: 
 
 " Four and twenty fiddlers all in a row, 
 And there was fiddle-fiddle^ and twice fiddle- 
 fiddler 
 
 " How s that for a serenade to Mistress 
 Nell?" he asked himself as he secured a 
 firm footing on the ground and slung his 
 fiddle over his back. " She don t know it s 
 for her, but the old viol and old Strings 
 know." He came to a stand-still and 
 winced. "Oons, my old wound again," 
 he said, with a sharp cry, followed as 
 quickly by a laugh. His eyes still wan 
 dered along the balustrade, as eagerly as 
 some young Romeo at the balcony of his 
 Juliet. " I wish she d walk her terrace to- 
 [ 88 ]
 
 A Merry Tale of a Merry Time 
 
 night," he sighed, "where we could see 
 her the lovely lady!" 
 
 His rhapsody was suddenly broken in 
 upon by the approach of some one down 
 the path. He glided into the shadow of 
 an oak and none too quickly. 
 
 From the obscurity of the trees, into 
 the open, a chair was swiftly borne, by 
 the side of which ran a pretty page of 
 tender years, yet well schooled in courtly 
 wisdom. The lovely occupant leaned for 
 ward and motioned to the chairmen, who 
 obediently rested and assisted her to alight. 
 
 "Retire beneath the shadow of the 
 trees," she whispered. "Have a care; no 
 noise." 
 
 The chairmen withdrew quietly, but 
 within convenient distance, to await her 
 bidding. 
 
 Strings s heart quite stopped beating. 
 "The Duchess of Portsmouth at Mistress 
 Nell s!" he said, almost aloud in his ex 
 citement. "Then the devil must be to 
 pay ! " and he slipped well behind the oak- 
 trunk again. 
 
 Portsmouth s eyes snapped with French 
 
 [ 89 ]
 
 Mistress Nell 
 
 fire as she glanced up at Nell s terrace. 
 Then she turned to the page by her side. 
 "His Majesty came this path before?" 
 she asked, with quick, French accent. 
 
 "Yes, your grace," replied the page. 
 
 "And up this trellis?" 
 
 "Yes, your grace." 
 
 "Again to-night?" 
 
 "I cannot tell, your grace," replied 
 the lad. "I followed as you bade me; but 
 the King s legs were so long, you see, I 
 lost him." 
 
 Portsmouth smiled. " Softly, pretty 
 one," she said. "Watch if he comes and 
 warn me; for we may have passed him." 
 
 The lad ran gaily down the path to 
 perform her bidding. 
 
 " State-business! " she muttered, as she 
 reflected bitterly upon the King s late 
 excuses to her. " Mon Dieu, does he think 
 me a country wench? I was schooled at 
 Louis s court." Her eyes searched the 
 house from various points of advantage. 
 "A light!" she exclaimed, as a candle 
 burned brightly from a window, like a 
 spark of gold set in the silver of the night. 
 
 [ 90 ]
 
 A Merry T ale of a Merry Time 
 
 "Would I had an invisible cloak." She 
 tiptoed about a corner of the wall 
 woman-like, to see if she could see, not 
 Nell, but Charles. 
 
 Scarcely had she disappeared when a 
 second figure started up in the moonlight, 
 and a gallant figure, too. It was the Duke 
 of Buckingham. "Not a mouse stirring," 
 he reflecled, glancing at the terrace. " Fair 
 minx, you will not long refuse Bucking 
 ham s overtures. Come, Nelly, thy King 
 is already half stolen away by Portsmouth 
 of France, and Portsmouth of France is 
 our dear ally in the great cause and shall 
 be more so." 
 
 To his astonishment, as he drew nearer, 
 he observed a lady, richly dressed, gliding 
 between himself and the terrace. He 
 rubbed his eyes to see that he was not 
 dreaming. She was there, however, and 
 a pretty armful, too. 
 
 " Nell," he chuckled, as he stole up 
 behind her. 
 
 Portsmouth meanwhile had learned 
 that the window was too high to allow 
 her to gain a view within the dwelling. 
 
 [ 91 1
 
 Mistress Nell 
 
 She started observing, more by intui 
 tion than by sight, that she was watched 
 and drew her veil closely about her 
 handsome features. 
 
 " Nelly, Nelly," laughed Buckingham, 
 "I have thee, wench. Come, a kiss! a 
 kiss! Nay, love; it was never treason to 
 steal a King s kisses." 
 
 He seized her by the arm and was about 
 to kiss her when she turned and threw 
 back her veil. 
 
 "Buckingham!" she said, suavely. 
 
 "Portsmouth!" he exclaimed, awe 
 struck. 
 
 He gathered himself together, how 
 ever, in an instant, and added, as if noth 
 ing in the world had happened: "An 
 unexpected pleasure, your grace." 
 
 "Yes," said she, with a pretty shrug. 
 "I did not know I was so honoured, my 
 lord." 
 
 " Or you would not have refused the 
 little kiss?" he asked, suggestively. 
 
 "You called me Nelly, my lord. I 
 do not respond to that name." 
 
 " Damme, I was never good at names, 
 
 [ 92 ]
 
 A Merry Tale of a Merry Time 
 
 Louise," said he, with mock-apology, 
 "especially by moonlight." 
 
 "Buz, buz!" she answered, with a 
 knowing gesture and a knowing look. 
 Then, pointing toward the terrace, she 
 added: "A pretty nest! A pretty bird 
 within, I warrant. Her name?" 
 
 " Ignorance well feigned," he thought. 
 He replied, however, most graciously: 
 "Nell Gwyn." 
 
 "Oh, ho! The King s favourite, who 
 has more power, they say, than great 
 statesmen like my lord." 
 
 Her speech was well defined to draw 
 out his lordship; but he was wary. 
 
 " Unless my lord is guided by my lady, 
 as formerly," he replied, diplomatically. 
 
 A look of suspicion crept into Ports 
 mouth s face: but it was not visible for 
 want of contrast; for all things have a per 
 verted look by the light of the moon. 
 
 She had known Buckingham well at 
 Dover. Their interests there had been 
 one in securing privileges from England 
 for her French King. Both had been well 
 rewarded too for their pains. There were 
 
 [ 93 ]
 
 Mistress Nell 
 
 no proofs, however, of this; and where his 
 lordship stood to-day, and which cause 
 he would espouse, she did not know. His 
 eyes at Dover had fallen fondly upon her, 
 but men s eyes fall fondly upon many wo 
 men, and she would not trust too much 
 until she knew more. 
 
 "My chairmen have set me down at 
 the wrong door-step," she said, most 
 sweetly. " My lord longs for his kiss. Au 
 revoir!" 
 
 She bowed and turned to depart. 
 
 Buckingham was alert in an instant. 
 He knew not when the opportunity 
 might come again to deal so happily 
 with Louis s emissary and the place and 
 time of meeting had its advantages. 
 
 "Prythee stay, Duchess. I left the 
 merry hunters, returning from Houns- 
 low Heath, all in Portsmouth s interest," 
 he said. " Is this to be my thanks? " 
 
 She approached him earnestly. "My 
 lord must explain. I am stupid in fitting 
 English facts to English words." 
 
 "Have you forgotten Dover?" he 
 asked, intensely, but subdued in voice, 
 
 [ 94]
 
 A Merry Tale of a Merry Time 
 
 "and my pledges sworn to? the treaty 
 at the Castle? the Duchess of Orleans? 
 the Grand Monarch?" 
 
 "Hush!" exclaimed Portsmouth, 
 clutching his arm and looking cau 
 tiously about. 
 
 "If my services to you there were 
 known," he continued, excitedly, " and to 
 the great cause the first step in mak 
 ing England pensioner of France and 
 Holland the vassal of Louis my head 
 would pay the penalty. Can you not trust 
 me still?" 
 
 " You are on strange ground to-night," 
 suggested Portsmouth, tossing her head 
 impatiently to indicate the terrace, as she 
 tried to fathom the real man. 
 
 "I thought the King might pass this 
 way, and came to see," hastily explained 
 his lordship, observing that she was re 
 flecting upon the incongruity of his friend 
 ship for her and of his visit to Madame 
 Gwyn. 
 
 " And if he did? " she asked, dubiously, 
 not seeing the connection. 
 
 " I have a plan to make his visits less 
 
 [95]
 
 Mistress Nell 
 
 frequent, Louise, for your sweet sake 
 and mine." 
 
 The man was becoming master. He 
 had pleased her, and she was beginning 
 to believe. 
 
 "Yes?" she said, in a way which 
 might mean anything, but certainly that 
 she was listening, and intently listening 
 too. 
 
 " You have servants you can trust? " he 
 asked. 
 
 "I have," she replied as quickly; and 
 she gloried in the thought that some, at 
 least were as faithful as Louis s court af 
 forded. 
 
 "They must watch Nell s terrace here, 
 night and day," he almost commanded in 
 his eagerness, "who comes out, who goes 
 in and the hour. She may forget her royal 
 lover; and well we shall have wit 
 nesses in waiting. We owe this kindness 
 to his Majesty." 
 
 Portsmouth shrugged her shoulders 
 impatiently. "MonDieu!" she said. "My 
 servants have watched, my lord, already. 
 The despatches would have been signed 
 
 [ 96 ]
 
 A Merry Tale of a Merry Time 
 
 and Louis s army on the march against 
 the Dutch but for this vulgar player-girl, 
 whom I have never seen. The King for 
 gets all else." 
 
 The beautiful Duchess was piqued, in 
 deed, that the English King should be so 
 swayed. She felt that it was a personal dis 
 grace an insult to her charms and to her 
 culture. She felt that the court knew it 
 and laughed, and she feared that Louis 
 soon would know. Nell Gwyn! How she 
 hated her scarce less than she loved 
 Louis and her France. 
 
 "Be of good cheer," suggested Buck 
 ingham, soothingly ; and he half embraced 
 her. " My messenger shall await your sig 
 nal, to carry the news to Louis and his 
 army." 
 
 "There is no news," replied she, and 
 turned upon him bitterly. "Charles evades 
 me. Promise after promise to sup with 
 me broken. I expecled him to-night. My 
 spies warned me he would not come; that 
 he is hereabouts again. I followed myself 
 to see. I have the papers with me always. 
 If I can but see the King alone, it will 
 
 [ 97 ]
 
 Mistress Nell 
 
 not take long to dethrone this up-start 
 queen; wine, sweet words England s 
 sign-manual." 
 
 There was a confident smile on her lips 
 as she reflected upon her personal powers, 
 which had led Louis XIV. of France to 
 entrust a great mission to her. His lord 
 ship sawhis growing advantage. He would 
 make the most of it. 
 
 "In the last event you have the ball!" 
 he suggested, hopefully. 
 
 "Aye, and we shall be prepared," she 
 cried. "But Louis is impatient to strike 
 the blow for Empire unhampered by 
 British sympathy for the Dutch, and the 
 ball is " 
 
 "A fortnight off," interrupted Buck 
 ingham, with a smile. 
 
 "And my messenger should begone to 
 night," she continued, irritably. She ap 
 proached him and whispered cautiously: 
 " I have to-day received another note from 
 Bouillon. Louis relies upon me to win 
 from Charles his consent to the with 
 drawal of the British troops from Hol 
 land. This will insure the fall of Luxem- 
 
 [ 98 ]
 
 A Merry Tale of a Merry Time 
 
 bourg the key to our success. You see, 
 Buckingham, I must not fail. England s 
 debasement shall be won." 
 
 There was a whistle down the path. 
 
 "Some one comes!" she exclaimed. 
 "My chair!" 
 
 The page, who had given the signal, 
 came running to her. Her chairmen too 
 were prompt. 
 
 "Join me," she whispered to Bucking 
 ham, as he assisted her to her seat within. 
 
 " Later, Louise, later," he replied. " I 
 must back to the neighbouring inn, before 
 the huntsmen miss me." 
 
 Portsmouth waved to the chairmen, 
 who moved silently away among the 
 trees. 
 
 Buckingham stood looking after them, 
 laughing. 
 
 "King Charles, a French girl from 
 Louis s court will give me the keys to 
 England s heart and her best honours," he 
 muttered. 
 
 He glanced once again quickly at the 
 windows of the house, and then, with 
 altered purpose, swaggered away down a 
 
 [ 99 ]
 
 Mistress Nell 
 
 side path. He was well pleased with his 
 thoughts, well pleased with his chance 
 interview with the beautiful Duchess and 
 well pleased with himself. His brain wove 
 and wove moonbeam webs of intrigue as 
 he passed through the light and shadow 
 of the night, wherein he would lend a 
 helping hand to France and secure gold 
 and power for his pains. He had no qualms 
 of conscience; for must not his estates be 
 kept, his dignity maintained ? His purpose 
 was clear. He would bring Portsmouth 
 and the King closer together: and what 
 England lost, he would gain and, there 
 fore, England; for was not he himself a 
 part of England, and a great part? 
 Then too he must and would have Nell.
 
 CHAPTER VI 
 
 Softly on tiptoe; 
 Here Nell doth lie. 
 
 JL\S often happens in life, when one 
 suitor departs, another suitor knocks; 
 and so it happened on this glorious night. 
 The belated suitor was none other than 
 Charles, the Stuart King. He seemed in 
 the moonlight the picture of royalty, of 
 romance, of dignity, of carelessness, of in 
 difference the royal vagabond of wit, 
 of humour and of love. A well-thumbed 
 "Hudibras" bulged from his pocket. He 
 was alone, save for some pretty spaniels 
 that played about him. He heeded them 
 not. His thoughts were of Nell. 
 
 " Methought I heard voices tuned to 
 love," he mused, as he glanced about. 
 "What knave has spied out the secret 
 of her bower? Ho, Rosamond, my Rosa 
 mond! Why came I here again to-night? 
 What is there in this girl, this Nell? And 
 
 [ "I ]
 
 Mistress Nell 
 
 yet her eyes, how like the pretty maid s 
 who passed me the cup that day at the 
 cottage where we rested. Have I lived 
 really to love I, Solomon s rival in the 
 entertainment of the fair, to have my 
 heart-strings torn by this roguish player? " 
 
 His reflections were broken in upon by 
 the hunters song in the distance. The 
 music was so in harmony with the night 
 that the forest seemed enchanted. 
 
 "Hush; music!" he exclaimed, softly, 
 as he lent himself reluctantly to the spell, 
 which pervaded everything as in a fairy 
 land. " Odds, moonlight was once for me 
 as well the light for revels, bacchanals 
 and frolics; yet now I linger another 
 evening by Nell s terrace, mooning like 
 a lover o er the memory of her eyes and 
 entranced by the hunters song." 
 
 The singers were approaching. The 
 King stepped quickly beneath the trellis, 
 in an angle of the wall, and waited. Their 
 song grew richer, as melodious as the 
 night, but it struck a discord in his soul. 
 He was thinking of a pair of eyes. 
 
 "Cease those discordant jangles," he
 
 A Merry Tale of a Merry Time 
 
 exclaimed impatiently to himself; " cease, 
 I say! No song except for Nell! Nell! 
 Pour forth your sweetest melody for 
 Nell!" 
 
 The hunters stopped as by intuition 
 before the terrace. A goodly company 
 they were, indeed; there were James and 
 Rochester and others of the court re 
 turning from the day s hunt. There was 
 Buckingham too, who had rejoined 
 them as they left the inn. The music 
 died away. 
 
 " Whose voice was that ? " asked James, 
 as he caught the sound of the King s 
 impatient exclamation from the corner 
 of the wall. 
 
 " Some dreamer of the night," laughed 
 Buckingham. "Yon lo ve-sick fellow, me - 
 thinks," he continued, pointing to a fig 
 ure, well aloof beneath the trees, who 
 was watching the scene most jealously. 
 It was none other than Hart, who rarely 
 failed to have an eye on Nell s terrace and 
 who instantly stole away in the darkness. 
 
 "This is the home of Eleanor Gwyn 
 we are passing," said Rochester, superflu- 
 
 [ I0 3 ]
 
 Mistress Nell 
 
 ously; for all knew full well that it was 
 Nelly s terrace. 
 
 "The love-lorn seer is wise," cried the 
 Duke of York, quite forgetting his frigid 
 self as he bethought him of Nell, and be 
 coming quite lover-like, as he, sighing, 
 said: "It were well to make peace with 
 Nelly. Sing, hunters, sing!" 
 
 The command was quickly obeyed and 
 the voices well attuned; for none were 
 there but worshipped Nelly. 
 
 Hail to the moonbeams 
 
 Crystal spray, 
 Nestling in Heaven 
 
 AH the day, 
 Falling by night-time, 
 
 Silvery showers, 
 twining with love-rhyme 
 
 Nell s fair bowers. 
 
 Sing, hunters, sing, 
 
 Gently carolling, 
 Here lies our hart 
 
 Sleeping, sleeping, sleeping. 
 
 Hail to the King s oaks, 
 Sentries blest, 
 
 [ 104 ]
 
 A Merry Tale of a Merry Time 
 
 Spreading their branches, 
 
 Guarding her rest, 
 Telling the breezes, 
 
 Hastening by: 
 "Softly on tiptoe ; 
 
 Here Nell doth lie." 
 
 Sing, hunters, sing. 
 
 Gently carolling, 
 Here lies our hart 
 
 Sleeping, sleeping, sleeping. 
 
 The King heard the serenade to the 
 end, then stepped gaily from his hiding- 
 place. 
 
 " Brother James under Nelly s win 
 dow!" he said, with a merry laugh. 
 
 "The King!" exclaimed James, in 
 startled accents, as he realized the pres 
 ence of his Majesty and the awkward po 
 sition in which he and his followers were 
 placed. 
 
 "The King!" repeated the courtiers. 
 Hats were off and knees were bent re 
 spectfully. 
 
 " Brother," saluted Charles, as he em 
 braced the Duke of York good-naturedly. 
 
 t 105 ]
 
 Mistress Nell 
 
 Buckingham withdrew a few steps. He 
 was the most disturbed at the presence of 
 the King at Nelly s bower. " As I feared," 
 he thought. "Devil take his Majesty s 
 meandering heart." 
 
 "Odsfish," laughed Charles, "we 
 must guard our Nelly, or James and his 
 saintly followers will rob her bower by 
 moonlight." 
 
 The Duke of York assumed a devout 
 and dignified mien. " Sire," he attempted 
 to explain, but was interrupted quickly 
 by his Majesty. 
 
 "No apologies, pious brother. God 
 never damned a man for a little irregu 
 lar pleasure." 
 
 There was a tittering among the court 
 iers as the King s words fell upon their 
 ears. 
 
 James continued to apologize. "In 
 faith, we were simply passing " he said. 
 
 Again he was interrupted by his Maj 
 esty, who was in the best of humour and 
 much pleased at the discomfiture of his 
 over-religious brother. 
 
 "Lorenzo too was simply passing," 
 [ 106 ]
 
 A Merry Tale of a Merry Time 
 
 he observed, "but the fair Jessica and 
 some odd ducats stuck to his girdle; and 
 the Jew will still be tearing his hair long 
 after we are dust. Ah, Buckingham, they 
 tell me you too have a taste for roguish 
 Nelly. Have a care!" 
 
 The King strode across to Buckingham 
 as he spoke; and while there was humour 
 in his tone, there was injunction also. 
 
 Buckingham was too great a courtier 
 not to see and feel it. He bowed respect 
 fully, replying to his Majesty, "Sire, I 
 would not presume to follow the King s 
 eyes, however much I admire their taste." 
 
 "Tis well," replied his Majesty, 
 pointedly, "lest they lead thee abroad 
 on a sleeveless mission." 
 
 Others had travelled upon such mis 
 sions; Buckingham knew it well. 
 
 " But what does your Majesty here to 
 night, if we dare ask? " questioned James, 
 who had just bethought him how to turn 
 the tables upon the King. 
 
 Charles looked at his brother quizzi 
 cally. "Humph!" he exclaimed, in his 
 peculiar way. " Feeding my ducks in yon- 
 
 [ I0 7 ]
 
 Mistress Nell 
 
 der pond." His staff swept indefinitely 
 toward the park. 
 
 "Hunting with us were nobler busi 
 ness, Sire," suggested James, decisively. 
 
 " Not so," replied the King, quite seri 
 ously. " My way I learn to legislate for 
 ducks." 
 
 " Twere wiser," preached York, "to 
 study your subj eels needs." 
 
 The King s eyes twinkled. " I go among 
 them," he said, "and learn their needs, 
 while you are praying, brother." 
 
 At this sally, Rochester became con 
 vulsed, though he hid it well; for Roch 
 ester was not as pious as brother James. 
 
 York, feeling that the sympathy was 
 against him, grew more earnest still. "I 
 wish your Majesty would have more 
 care," he pleaded. " Tis a crime against 
 yourself, a crime against the state, a crime 
 against the cavaliers who fought and died 
 for you, to walk these paths alone in such 
 uncertain times. Perchance, tis courting 
 lurking murder!" 
 
 " No kind of danger, James," answered 
 the King, with equal seriousness, laying 
 
 [ 108 ]
 
 A Merry T ale of a Merry Time 
 
 a hand kindly on his brother s shoulder; 
 "for I am sure no man in England would 
 take away my life to make you King." 
 
 There was general laughter from the 
 assembled party; for all dared laugh, 
 even at the expense of the Duke of York, 
 when the jest was of the King s making. 
 Indeed, not to laugh at a king s jest has 
 been in every age, in or out of statutes, 
 the greatest crime. Fortunately, King 
 Charles s wit warranted its observation. 
 
 James himself grew mellow under the 
 influence of the gaiety, and almost affec 
 tionately replied, "God grant it be ever 
 so, brother." He then turned the thought. 
 " We heard but now an ambassador from 
 Morocco s court is lately landed. He 
 brings your Majesty two lions and thirty 
 ostriches." 
 
 " Odsfish, but he is kind," replied the 
 King, reflecting on the gift. " I know of 
 nothing more proper to send by way of 
 return than a flock of geese." 
 
 His brow arched quizzically, as he 
 glanced over the circle of inert courtiers 
 ranged about him. "Methinkslcan count 
 
 [ I0 9 ]
 
 Mistress Nell 
 
 them out at Whitehall," he thought. 
 
 "He seeks an audience to-night. Will 
 you grant it, Sire?" besought James. 
 
 " Sheart!" replied the King. "Most 
 cheerfully, I 11 lead you from Nelly s ter 
 race, brother. Hey ! Tune up your throats. 
 On to the palace."
 
 CHAPTER VII 
 
 Come down ! 
 Come up! 
 
 JL HE music died away among the old 
 oaks in the park. Before its final notes 
 were lost on the air, however, hasty steps 
 and a chatter of women s voices came 
 from the house. The door leading to the 
 terrace was thrown quickly open, and 
 Nell appeared. Her eyes had the bewil 
 dered look of one who has been suddenly 
 awakened from a sleep gilded with a de 
 lightful dream. 
 
 She had, indeed, been dreaming 
 dreaming of the King and of his coming. 
 As she lay upon her couch, where she had 
 thrown herself after the evening meal, 
 she had seemed to hear his serenade. 
 
 Then the music ceased and she started 
 up and rubbed her eyes. It was only to see 
 the moonlight falling through the lat 
 ticed windows on to the floor of her dainty
 
 Mistress Nell 
 
 chamber. She was alone and she bethought 
 herself sadly that dreams go by contraries. 
 
 Once again, however, the hunters song 
 had arisen on her startled ear and had 
 died away in sweet cadences in the dis 
 tance. It was not a dream! 
 
 As she rushed out upon the terrace, she 
 called Moll reprovingly; and, in an in 
 stant, Moll was at her side. The faithful 
 girl had already seen the hunters and had 
 started a search for Nell; but the revellers 
 had gone before she could find her. 
 
 "What is it, dear Nell?" asked her 
 companion, well out of breath. 
 
 " Why did you not call me, cruel girl? " 
 answered Nell, impatiently. "To miss see 
 ing so many handsome cavaliers! Where 
 is my kerchief?" 
 
 Nell leaned over the balustrade and 
 waved wildly to the departing hunters. 
 A pretty picture she was too, in her white 
 flowing gown, silvered by the moonlight. 
 
 " See, see," she exclaimed to Moll, with 
 wild enthusiasm, "some one waves back. 
 It may be he, sweet mouse. Heigh-ho! 
 Why don t you wave, Moll?" 
 
 [ 112 ]
 
 A Merry Tale of a Merry Time 
 
 Before Moll could answer, a rich bugle- 
 horn rang out across the park. 
 . " The hunters horn ! " cried Nell, glee 
 fully. " Oh, I wish I were a man except 
 when one is with me"; and she threw 
 both arms about Moll, for the want of one 
 better to embrace. She was in her varying 
 mood, which was one twixt the laughter 
 of the lip and the tear in the eye. 
 
 "I have lost my brother!" ejaculated 
 some one; but she heard him not. 
 
 This laconic speech came from none 
 other than the King, who in a bantering 
 mood had returned. 
 
 " I went one side a tree and pious James 
 t other; and here I am by Nelly s ter 
 race once again," he muttered. "Oh, ho! 
 wench!" His eyes had caught sight of 
 Nell upon the terrace. 
 
 He stepped back quickly into the 
 shadow and watched her playfully. 
 
 Nell looked longingly out into the 
 night, and sighed heavily. She was at her 
 wit s end. The evening was waning, and 
 the King, as she thought, had not come. 
 
 " Why do you sigh? " asked Moll, con 
 solingly. [ 113 ]
 
 Mistress Nell 
 
 " I was only looking down the path, 
 dear heart," replied Nell, sadly. 
 
 " He will come," hopefully suggested 
 Moll, whose little heart sympathized 
 deeply with her benefactress. 
 
 " Nay, sweet," said Nell, and she shook 
 her curls while the moonbeams danced 
 among them, "he is as false as yonder 
 moon as changeable of face." 
 
 She withdrew her eyes from the path 
 and they fell upon the King. His Majesty s 
 curiosity had quite over-mastered him, 
 and he had inadvertently stepped well into 
 the light. The novelty of hearing himself 
 derided by such pretty lips was a delicious 
 experience, indeed. 
 
 "The King!" she cried, in joyous sur 
 prise. 
 
 Moll s diplomatic effort to escape at the 
 sight of his Majesty was not half quick 
 enough for Nell, who forthwith forced 
 her companion into the house, and closed 
 the door sharply behind her, much to the 
 delight of the humour-loving King. 
 
 Nell then turned to the balustrade and, 
 somewhat confused, looked down at his 
 
 [ 4 ]
 
 A Merry Tale of a Merry Time 
 
 Majesty, who now stood below, calmly 
 gazing up at her, an amused expression 
 on his face. 
 
 "Pardon, your Majesty," she explained, 
 falteringly, " I did not see you." 
 
 "You overlooked me merely," slyly 
 suggested Charles, swinging his stick in 
 the direction of the departed hunters. 
 
 "F faith, I thought it was you waved 
 answer, Sire," quickly replied Nell, whose 
 confusion was gone and who was now mis 
 tress of the situation and of herself. 
 
 "No, Nell; I hunt alone for my hart." 
 
 "You hunt the right park, Sire." 
 
 " Yea, a good preserve, truly," observed 
 the King. " I find my game, as I expedted, 
 flirting, waving kerchiefs, making eyes 
 and throwing kisses to the latest passer- 
 by." 
 
 "I was encouraging the soldiers, my 
 liege. That is every woman s duty to her 
 country." 
 
 " And her country;//?;?," said he, smil 
 ing. "You are very loyal, Nell. Come 
 down!" It was irritating, indeed, to be 
 kept so at arm s length. 
 
 [ "5 ]
 
 Mistress Nell 
 
 She gazed down at him with impish 
 sweetness down at the King of Eng 
 land! 
 
 " Come up! " she said, leaning over the 
 balustrade. 
 
 "Nay; come down if yo u love me," 
 pleaded the King. 
 
 "Nay; come up if you love me," said 
 Nell, enticingly. 
 
 "Egad! I am too old to climb," ex 
 claimed the Merry Monarch. 
 
 "Egad! I am too young yet for the 
 downward path, your Majesty," retorted 
 Nell. 
 
 The King shrugged his shoulders in 
 differently. 
 
 " You will fall if we give you time," 
 he said. 
 
 " To the King s level? " she asked, slyly, 
 then answered herself: " Mayhap." 
 
 Thus they stood like knights after the 
 first tilt. Charles looked up at Nell, and 
 Nell looked down at Charles. There was 
 a moment s silence. Nell broke it. 
 
 " I am surprised you happen this way, 
 Sire." 
 
 [ "6 ]
 
 A Merry Tale of a Merry Time 
 
 "With such eyes to lure me?" asked 
 the King, and he asked earnestly too. 
 
 "Tush," answered Nell, coyly, "your 
 tongue will lead you to perdition, Sire." 
 
 " No fear! " replied he, dryly. " I knelt 
 in church with brother James but yes 
 terday." 
 
 "In sooth, quite true!" said Nell, ap 
 provingly, as she leaned back against the 
 door and raised her eyes innocently to 
 ward the moon. "I sat in the next pew, 
 Sire, afraid to move for fear I might awake 
 your Majesty." 
 
 The King chuckled softly to himself. 
 Nell picked one of the flowers that grew 
 upon the balustrade. 
 
 " Ah, you come a long-forgotten path 
 to-night," she said abruptly. 
 
 The King was alert in an instant. He 
 felt that he had placed himself in a false 
 light. He loved the witch above despite 
 himself. 
 
 " I saw thee twa evenings ago, lass," 
 he hastily asserted, in good Scotch ac 
 cents, somewhat impatiently. 
 
 "And is not that a long time, Sire," 
 
 [ "7 ]
 
 Mistress Nell 
 
 questioned Nell, "or did Portsmouth 
 make it fly?" 
 
 "Portsmouth!" exclaimed Charles. 
 He turned his face away. " Can it be my 
 conscience pricks me? " he thought. " You 
 know more of her than I, sweet Nell," 
 he then asserted, with open manner. 
 
 " Marry, I know her not at all and never 
 saw her," said Nell. "I shall feel better 
 when I do," she thought. 
 
 " It were well for England s peace you 
 have not met," laughed Charles. 
 
 " Faith and troth," said Nell, " I am 
 happy to know our King has lost his 
 heart." 
 
 "Odso! And why?" asked Charles; 
 and he gazed at Nell in his curious uncer 
 tain way, as he thought it was never pos 
 sible to tell quite what she meant or what 
 she next would think or say or do. 
 
 "We feared he had not one to lose," 
 she slyly suggested. " It gives us hope." 
 
 "To have it in another s hand as you 
 allege?" asked Charles. 
 
 "Marry, truly!" answered Nell, de 
 cisively. "The Duchess may find it more 
 [ "8 ]
 
 A Merry Tale of a Merry Time 
 
 than she can hold and toss it over." 
 
 "How now, wench!" exclaimed the 
 King, with assumption of wounded dig 
 nity. " My heart a ball for women to bat 
 about!" 
 
 " Sire, two women often play at rackets 
 even with a king s heart," softly sug 
 gested Nell. 
 
 "Odsfish," cried the King, with hands 
 and eyes raised in mock supplication. 
 " Heaven help me then." 
 
 Again the hunters horn rang clearly 
 on the night. 
 
 " The horn ! The horn ! " said Nell, with 
 forced indifference. " They call you, Sire." 
 
 There was a triumphantly bewitching 
 look in her eyes, however, as she realized 
 the discomfiture of the King. He was 
 annoyed, indeed. His manner plainly 
 betokened his desire to stay and his irri 
 tation at the interruption. 
 
 " Tis so!" he said at last, resignedly. 
 "The King is lost." 
 
 The horn sounded clearer. The hunt 
 ers were returning. 
 
 " Again nearer ! " exclaimed Charles, 
 
 [ "9]
 
 Mistress Nell 
 
 fretfully. His mind reverted to his pious 
 brother; and he laughed as he continued: 
 " Poor brother James and his ostriches! " 
 
 He could almost touch Nell s finger 
 tips. 
 
 "Farewell, sweet," he said; "I must 
 help them find his Majesty or they will 
 swarm here like bees. Yet I must see my 
 Nell again to-night. You have bewitched 
 me, wench. Sup with me within the hour 
 at Ye Blue Boar Inn. Can you find 
 the place?" 
 
 There was mischief in Nell s voice 
 as she leaned upon the balustrade. She 
 dropped a flower; he caught it. 
 
 " Sire, I can always find a rendezvous," 
 she answered. 
 
 "You re the biggest rogue in Eng 
 land," laughed Charles. 
 
 " Of a subjett^ perhaps, Sire," replied 
 Nell, pointedly. 
 
 "That is treason, sly wench," rejoined 
 the King; but his voice grew tender as he 
 added: " but treason of the tongue and not 
 the heart. Adieu! Let that seal thy lips, 
 until we meet." 
 
 [ 120 ]
 
 A Merry *Tale of a Merry Time 
 
 He threw a kiss to the waiting lips 
 upon the balcony. 
 
 " Alack-a-day," sighed Nell, sadly, as 
 she caught the kiss. " Some one may break 
 the seal, my liege; who knows? " 
 
 " How now? " questioned Charles, jeal 
 ously. 
 
 Nell hugged herself as she saw his fit 
 ful mood; for beneath mock jealousy she 
 thought she saw the germ of true jealousy. 
 She laughed wistfully as she explained: 
 " It were better to come up and seal them 
 tighter, Sire." 
 
 "Minx!" he chuckled, and tossed an 
 other kiss. 
 
 The horn again echoed through the 
 woods. He started. 
 
 "Now we 11 despatch the affairs of Eng 
 land, brother; then we ll sup with pretty 
 Nelly. Poor brother James! Heaven bless 
 him and his ostriches." 
 
 He turned and strode quickly through 
 the trees and down the path; but, as he 
 went, ever and anon he called: "Ye Blue 
 Boar Inn, within the hour!" 
 
 Each time from the balcony in Nell s
 
 Mistress Nell 
 
 sweet voice came back "Ye Blue Boar 
 Inn, within the hour! I will not fail you, 
 Sire!" 
 
 Then she too disappeared. There was 
 again a slamming of doors and much con 
 fusion within the house. There were calls 
 and sounds of running feet. 
 
 The door below the terrace opened sud 
 denly, and Nell appeared breathless upon 
 the lawn at her heels the constant Moll. 
 Nell ran some steps down the path, peer 
 ing vainly through the woods after the 
 departing King. Her bosom rose and fell 
 in agitation. 
 
 "Oh, Moll, Moll, Moll!" she ex 
 claimed, fearfully. "He has been at 
 Portsmouth s since high noon. I could see 
 it in his eyes." Her own eyes snapped as she 
 thought of the hated French rival, whom 
 she had not yet seen, but whose relation 
 to the royal household, as she thought, 
 gave her the King s ear almost at will. 
 
 She walked nervously back and forth, 
 then turned quickly upon her companion, 
 asking her, who knew nothing, a hun 
 dred questions, all in one little breath. 
 [ 122 ]
 
 A Merry Tale of a Merry Time 
 
 "What is she? How looks she? What is 
 her charm, her fascination, the magic of 
 her art? Is she short, tall, fat, lean, joyous 
 or sombre? I must know." 
 
 "Oh, Nell, what will you do?" cried 
 Moll in fearful accents as she watched 
 her beautiful mistress standing passion- 
 swayed before her like a queen in the 
 moonlight, the little toe of her slipper 
 nervously beating the sward as she gen 
 eral-like marshalled her wits for the battle. 
 
 "See her, see her, from top to toe!" 
 Nell at length exclaimed. " Oh, there 
 will be sport, sweet mouse. France again 
 against England the stake, a King!" 
 
 She glanced in the direction of the 
 house and cried joyously as she saw 
 Strings hobbling toward her. 
 
 " Heaven ever gave me a man in wait 
 ing," she said, gleefully. "Poor fellow, he 
 limps from youthful, war-met wounds. 
 Comrade, are you still strong enough for 
 service?" 
 
 " To the death for you, Mistress Nell ! " 
 he faithfully replied. 
 
 "You know the Duchess of Ports- 
 
 [ I2 3 ]
 
 Mistress Nell 
 
 mouth, and where she lives?" artfully 
 inquired Nell. 
 
 "Portsmouth!" he repeated, excit 
 edly. "She was here but now, peeping 
 at your windows." 
 
 Nell stood aghast. Her face grew pale, 
 and her lips trembled. 
 
 " Here, here! " she exclaimed, incredu 
 lously. "The imported hussy!" 
 
 She turned hotly upon Strings, as she 
 had upon poor Moll, with an array of 
 questions which almost paralyzed the old 
 fiddler s wits. "How looks she? What 
 colour eyes? Does her lip arch ? How many 
 inches span her waist?" 
 
 Strings looked cautiously about, then 
 whispered in Nell s ear. He might as well 
 have talked to all London ; for Nell, in her 
 excitement, repeated his words at the top 
 of her voice. 
 
 "You overheard? Great Heavens! 
 Drug the King and win the rights of Eng 
 land while he is in his cups? Bouillon 
 the army Louis the Dutch! A con 
 spiracy!" 
 
 " Oh, dear ; oh, dear," came from Moll s 
 
 [ 124 ]
 
 A Merry Tale of a Merry Time 
 
 trembling lips. 
 
 Nell s wits were like lightning play 
 ing with the clouds. Her plans were 
 formed at once. 
 
 " Fly, fly, comrade," she commanded 
 Strings. " Overtake her chair. Tell the 
 Duchess that her beloved Charles she 
 will understand entreats her to sup at 
 Ye Blue Boar Inn, within the hour. Nay, 
 she will be glad enough to come. Say he 
 awaits her alone. Run, run, good Strings, 
 and you shall have a hospital to nurse 
 these wounds, as big as Noah s ark; and 
 the King shall build it for the message." 
 
 Strings hastened down the path, fired 
 by Nell s inspiration, with almost the 
 eagerness of a boy. 
 
 "Run, run!" cried Nell, in ecstasy, as 
 she looked after him and dwelt gleefully 
 upon the outcome of her plans. 
 
 He disappeared through the trees. 
 
 "Heigh-ho!" she said, with a light- 
 hearted step. "Now, Moll, we ll get our 
 first sight of the enemy." 
 
 She darted into the house, dragging poor 
 Moll after her. 
 
 [ 125 ]
 
 CHAPTER VIII 
 
 " And the man that is drunk is as great as a king." 
 
 ./\N old English inn! What spot on 
 earth is more hospitable, even though its 
 floor be bare and its tables wooden? There 
 is a homely atmosphere about it, with its 
 cobwebbed rafters, its dingy windows, 
 its big fireplace, where the rough logs 
 crackle, and its musty ale. It has ever been 
 a home for the belated traveller, where the 
 viands, steaming hot, have filled his soul 
 with joy. Oh, the Southdown mutton and 
 the roasts of beef ! 
 
 If England has given us naught else, 
 she should be beloved for her wealth of 
 inns, with their jolly landlords and their 
 pert bar-maids and their lawns for the 
 game of bowls. May our children s chil 
 dren find them still unchanged. 
 
 In a quaint corner of London, there 
 stood such an inn, in the days of which 
 we speak; and it lives in our story. When 
 
 [ 126 ]
 
 A Merry Ta/e of a Merry Time 
 
 it was built, no one knew and none cared. 
 Tradition said that it had been a rendez 
 vous for convivial spirits for ages that had 
 gone. A sign hung from the door, on 
 which was a boar s head; and under it, in 
 Old English lettering, might have been 
 deciphered, if the reader had the wit to 
 read, "Ye Blue Boar Inn." 
 
 It was the evening of a certain day, 
 known to us all, in the reign of good 
 King Charles. Three yesty spirits sat 
 convivially enjoying the warmth of the 
 fire upon the huge hearth. A keg was 
 braced in the centre of the room. One 
 of the merry crew none other, indeed, 
 than Swallow, a constable to the King 
 sat astride the cask, Don Quixote-like. 
 In place of the dauntless lance, he was 
 armed with a sturdy mug of good old ale. 
 He sang gaily to a tune of his own, turn 
 ing ever and anon for approbation to Buz 
 zard, another spirit of like guild, who sat 
 in a semi-maudlin condition by the table, 
 and also to the moon-faced landlord of 
 the inn, who encouraged the joviality 
 of his guests not forgetting to count 
 
 [ I2 7 ]
 
 Mistress Nell 
 
 the cups which they demolished. 
 Swallow sang: 
 
 "Here s a health unto his Majesty , with a fa, 
 
 la, fa, 
 
 Conversion to his enemies with a fa, la, fa, 
 And he that will not pledge his health, 
 I wish him neither wit nor wealth, 
 Nor yet a rope to hang himself 
 With a fa, la, fa, 
 With a fa, la, fa. yy 
 
 The song ended in a triumphant wave 
 of glory. The singer turned toward the 
 fellow, Buzzard, and demanded indig 
 nantly: 
 
 " Why don t ye sing, knave, to the tune 
 of the spigot?" 
 
 "My gullet s dry, Master Constable," 
 stupidly explained his companion, as he 
 too buried his face in the ale. 
 
 "Odsbud, thou knowest not the art, 
 thou clod," retorted the constable, wisely. 
 
 "Nay; I can sing as well as any man," 
 answered Buzzard, indignantly, "an I 
 know when to go up and when to come 
 down." He pointed stupidly, contrary to 
 the phrase, first to the floor and then to the 
 ceiling. [ 128 ]
 
 A Merry Tale of a Merry Time 
 
 The landlord chuckled merrily, imi 
 tating him. " When to go up and when to 
 come down!" he repeated with the same 
 idiotic drawl and contradictory gesture. 
 
 " Go to, simple," replied Swallow, with 
 tremendous condescension of manner. 
 "Thy mother gave thee a gullet but no 
 ear. Pass the schnapps." 
 
 He arose and staggered to the table. 
 
 "Good Master Constable, how sing- 
 est thou?" sheepishly inquired Buzzard, 
 as he filled Swallow s tankard for the 
 twentieth time. 
 
 "Marry, by main force, thou jack- 
 pudding; how else? " demanded Swallow, 
 pompously. He reseated himself with 
 much effort astride the cask. " Oh, bury 
 me here," he continued, looking into the 
 foaming mug, and then buried his face 
 deep in the ale. 
 
 His companions were well pleased with 
 the toast; for each repeated it after him, 
 each in his turn emphasizing the "me" 
 and the "here" "Oh, bury me here!" 
 "Oh, bury me here!" Buzzard in a voice 
 many tones deeper than that of Swallow 
 
 [ I2 9 ]
 
 Mistress Nell 
 
 and the landlord in a voice many tones 
 deeper than that of Buzzard. Indeed, the 
 guttural tones of the landlord bespoke the 
 grave-yard. 
 
 The three faces were lost in the foam; 
 the three sets of lips smacked in unison; 
 and the world might have wagged as it 
 would for these three jolly topers but for 
 a woman s voice, calling sharply from the 
 kitchen: 
 
 "Jenkins, love!" 
 
 "Body o me!" exclaimed the land 
 lord, almost dropping his empty tankard. 
 " Coming, coming, my dear ! " and he de 
 parted hastily. 
 
 The constable poked Buzzard in the 
 ribs; Buzzard poked the constable in the 
 ribs. 
 
 "Jenkins, love ! " they exclaimed in one 
 breath as the landlord returned, much to 
 his discomfiture; and their eyes twinkled 
 and wrinkled as they poked fun at the 
 taverner. 
 
 "Body o me! Thou sly dog!" said 
 the constable, as he continued to twit 
 him. " Whence came the saucy wench in
 
 A Merry T a/e of a Merry Time 
 
 the kitchen, landlord? A dimpled cook, 
 eh?" 
 
 The landlord s face grew serious with 
 offended dignity as he attempted to ex 
 plain. 
 
 " Tis my wife, Master Constable," he 
 said. 
 
 " Marry, the new one? " inquired Swal 
 low. 
 
 " Tis not the old one, Master Swal 
 low," replied the old hypocrite, wiping 
 away a forced tear. "Poor soul, she s 
 gone, I know not where." 
 
 "F faith, I trow she s still cooking, 
 landlord," consolingly replied the con 
 stable, with tearful mien, pointing slyly 
 downward for the benefit of Buzzard and 
 steadying himself with difficulty on the 
 cask. 
 
 " Bless Matilde," said the landlord as 
 he wiped his eyes again, " I had a hard 
 time to fill her place." 
 
 "Yea, truly," chuckled Swallow in 
 Buzzard s ear, between draughts, "three 
 long months from grave to altar." 
 
 " A good soul, a good soul, Master
 
 Mistress Nell 
 
 Swallow," continued the landlord, with 
 the appearance of deep affliction. 
 
 "And a better cook, landlord," said 
 Swallow, sadly. " Odsbud, she knew a 
 gooseberry tart. Patch your old wife s 
 soul to your new wife s face, and you ll 
 be a happy man, landlord. Here s a drop 
 to her." 
 
 " Thank ye, Master Constable," replied 
 the landlord, much affected. He looked 
 well to the filling of the flagon in his 
 hand, again wiped a tear from his eye 
 and took a deep draught to the pledge of 
 
 "The old one!" 
 
 Swallow, with equal reverence, and 
 with some diplomacy, placed his flagon 
 to his lips with the pledge of 
 
 "The new one!" 
 
 Buzzard, who had not been heard from 
 for some time, roused sufficiently to real 
 ize the situation, and broke out noisily on 
 his part with 
 
 "The next one!" 
 
 A startled expression pervaded the 
 landlord s face as he realized the mean 
 ing of Buzzard s words. He glanced woe- 
 
 [ 132 ]
 
 A Merry Tale of a Merry Time 
 
 fully toward the kitchen-door, lest the 
 new wife might have overheard. 
 
 "Peace, Buzzard!" Swallow hastened 
 to command, reprovingly. "Would ye 
 raise a man s dead wife? Learn discretion 
 from thy elders, an thou hop st to be a 
 married man." 
 
 " Marry, I do not hope," declared Buz 
 zard, striking the table with his clenched 
 hand. He had no time for matrimony 
 while the cups were overflowing. 
 
 There was a quick, imperative knock 
 at the door. The constable, Buzzard and 
 the landlord, all started up in confusion 
 and fear. 
 
 "Thieves," stammered Swallow, faint 
 ly, from behind the cask, from which he 
 had dismounted at the first sign of dan 
 ger. "They are making off with thy tit- 
 bit-of-a-wife, landlord." 
 
 "Be there thieves in the neighbour 
 hood, Master Constable?" whispered the 
 landlord, in consternation. 
 
 "Why should his Majesty s constable 
 be here else? " said Swallow, reaching for 
 a pike, which trembled in his hand as if
 
 Mistress Nell 
 
 he had the ague. "The country about s 
 o er-run with them; and I warrant tis 
 thy new wife s blue eyes they are after." 
 He steadied himself with the pike and 
 took a deep draught of ale to steady his 
 courage as well. 
 
 Buzzard started to crawl beneath the 
 table, but the wary constable caught him 
 by his belt and made a shield for the nonce 
 of his trembling body. 
 
 The landlord s eyes bulged from their 
 sockets as if a spirit from the nether re 
 gions had confronted him. The corners 
 of his mouth, which ascended in har 
 mony with his moon-face, twitched ner 
 vously. "Mercy me, sayest thou so?" he 
 asked. 
 
 "And in thine ear," continued Swal 
 low, consolingly, "and if thou see st Old 
 Rowley within a ten league, put thy new 
 huswife s face under lock and key and 
 Constable Swallow on the door to guard 
 thy treasure." 
 
 It was not quite clear, however, what 
 the constable meant; for "Old Rowley" 
 was the name of the King s favourite race- 
 
 [ 34 ]
 
 A Merry Tale of a Merry Time 
 
 horse, of Newmarket fame, and had also 
 come to be the nickname of the King him 
 self. Charles assumed it good-naturedly. 
 Assuredly, neither might be expecled as 
 a visitor to Ye Blue Boar. 
 
 There came a more spirited knock at 
 the door. The constable sought a niche 
 in the fireplace, whence he endeavoured 
 to exclude Buzzard, who was loath to be 
 excluded. 
 
 "Pass the Dutch-courage, good land 
 lord," entreated Swallow, in a hoarse whis 
 per. 
 
 The landlord started boldly toward the 
 door, but his courage failed him. "Go 
 thou, Master Constable," he exclaimed. 
 
 " Go thou thyself," wisely commanded 
 Swallow, with the appearance of much 
 bravery, though one eye twitched ner 
 vously in the direction of the kitchen- 
 door in the rear, as a possible means of 
 exit. "There s no need of his Majesty s 
 constable till the battery be complete. 
 There must be an action and intent, saith 
 the law." 
 
 "Old Rowley ! " muttered the landlord, 
 
 [ 135 ]
 
 Mistress Nell 
 
 fearfully. "Good Master Constable" 
 he pleaded. His face, which was usually 
 like a roast of beef, grew livid with fear. 
 
 Swallow, however, gave him no en 
 couragement, and the landlord once more 
 started for the door. 
 
 On the way his eye lighted on a full 
 cask which was propped up in the cor 
 ner. Instincl: was strong in him, even in 
 death. It had been tapped, and it would 
 be unsafe to leave it even for an instant 
 within reach of such guests. He stopped 
 and quickly replaced the spigot with a 
 plug. 
 
 There was a third knock at the door 
 louder than before. 
 
 " Anon, anon ! " he called, hastily turn 
 ing and catching up the half-filled flagon 
 from the table. He disappeared in the 
 entry-way. 
 
 The brave representatives of the King s 
 law craned their necks, but they could 
 hear nothing. As the silence continued, 
 courage was gradually restored to them; 
 and, with the return of courage, came the 
 desire for further drink. 
 
 [ -36 ]
 
 A Merry Tale of a Merry Time 
 
 Swallow again seized his pike and stag 
 gered toward the entry-way to impress his 
 companion with his bravery. 
 
 Buzzard caught the spirit of the a6tion. 
 "Marry, I d be a constable, too, an it 
 were to sit by the fire and guard a pretty 
 wench," he said. His face glowed in an 
 ticipation of such happiness as he glanced 
 through the half-open door to the kitchen, 
 where the landlord s wife reigned. 
 
 "Egad, thou a constable!" ejaculated 
 Swallow, contemptuously, throwing a 
 withering glance in the direction of his 
 comrade. "Thou ignoramamus! Old 
 Rowley wants naught but brave men 
 and sober men like me to guard the law. 
 Thou art a drunken Roundhead. One of 
 Old Noll s vile ruffians. I can tell it by 
 the wart on thy nose, knave." 
 
 " Nay, Master Constable," explained 
 Buzzard, with an injured look at the 
 mention of the wart, " it will soon away. 
 Mother says, when I was a rosy babe, 
 Master Wart was all in all; now I m a 
 man, Master Nose is crowding Neigh 
 bour Wart." 
 
 [ 37 ]
 
 Mistress Nell 
 
 Swallow put his hands on his knees and 
 laughed deeply. He contemplated thenose 
 and person of his companion with acurious 
 air and grew mellow with patronage. 
 
 " Thy fool s pate is not so dull," he said, 
 half aloud, as he lighted a long pipe and 
 puffed violently. "Thy wit would crack 
 a quarter-staff. Sbud, would st be my 
 
 9 " 
 
 posse ? 
 
 This was, indeed, a concession on the 
 part of the constable, who was over 
 weighted with the dignity of the law 
 which he upheld. 
 
 "Would st be at my command," he 
 continued, " to execute the King s Statu 
 quos on rogues?" 
 
 "Marry, Constable Buzzard!" ex 
 claimed the toper, gleefully. "Nay, and 
 I would!" 
 
 "Marry, Constable Buzzard!" re 
 plied Swallow, with tremendous indig 
 nation at the assumption of the fellow. 
 " Nay, and thou would st not, ass! By my 
 patron saint " 
 
 As the constable spoke, Buzzard s eye, 
 with a leer, lighted on the cask in the 
 
 [ 38 ]
 
 A Merry Tale of a Merry Time 
 
 corner. He bethought him that it had a 
 vent-hole even though the landlord had 
 removed the spigot. He tiptoed unsteadily 
 across the room, and proceeded with much 
 difficulty to insert a straw in the small 
 opening. He had thus already added ma 
 terially to his maudlin condition, before 
 Swallow discovered, with consternation 
 and anger, the temporary advantage 
 which the newly appointed posse had se 
 cured. 
 
 The cunning constable held carefully 
 on to his tongue, however. He quietly 
 produced a knife and staggered in his turn 
 to the cask, unobserved by the unsuspect 
 ing Buzzard, whose eyes were tightly 
 closed in the realization of a dream of his 
 highest earthly bliss. 
 
 In an instant, the straw was clipped 
 mid-way and the constable was enjoying 
 the contents of the cask through the lower 
 half, while Buzzard slowly awakened to 
 the facl that his dream of bliss had van 
 ished and that he was sucking a bit of 
 straw which yielded naught. 
 
 " Here, knave," commanded Swal- 
 
 [ 139 1
 
 Mistress Nell 
 
 low, between breaths, pushing the other 
 roughly aside, " thou hast had enough for 
 a posse. Fill my mug, thou ignoranshibus." 
 
 Buzzard staggered toward the table 
 to perform the bidding. "The flagon s 
 empty, Master Constable," he replied, 
 and forthwith loudly called out, " Land 
 lord! Landlord!" 
 
 The constable dropped his straw and 
 raised himself with difficulty to his full 
 height, one hand firmly resting on the 
 cask. 
 
 " Silence, fool of a posse" he com 
 manded, when he had poised himself; 
 "look ye, I have other eggs on the spit. 
 To thy knee, sirrah; to thy knee, knave! " 
 
 Buzzard with difficulty and with many 
 groans unsuspectingly obeyed the com 
 mand. Swallow lifted the cask which 
 not long since he had been riding and 
 which had not as yet been tapped upon 
 the shoulder of his kneeling companion. 
 There was another groan. 
 
 " Tis too heavy, good Master Con 
 stable," cried Buzzard, in sore distress. 
 
 "Thou clodhopper]" yelled Swallow,
 
 A Merry Tale of a Merry Time 
 
 unsympathetically. "An thou cannot 
 master a cask of wine, thou wilt never 
 master the King s law. To the kitchen 
 with thee; and keep thy eyes shut, thou 
 knave of a posse." The constable made a 
 dive for his pike and lantern, and enforced 
 his authority by punctuating his remarks 
 with jabs of the pike from behind at his 
 powerless friend, who could scarce keep 
 his legs under the weight of the cask. 
 
 As Buzzard tottered through the 
 kitchen-door and made his exit, the 
 constable, finding his orders faithfully 
 obeyed, steadied himself with the pike 
 to secure a good start; and then, with 
 long staggering strides, he himself made 
 his way after the posse, singing loudly to 
 his heart s content: 
 
 " Good store of good claret supplies everything 
 And the man that is drunk is as great as a king"
 
 CHAPTER IX 
 
 Three chickens! 
 
 ]L HE door opened quickly, and in 
 came King Charles; but who would 
 have known him? The royal monarch 
 had assumed the mien and garb of a 
 ragged cavalier. 
 
 His eyes swept the inn quickly and 
 approvingly. He turned upon the land 
 lord, who followed him with dubious 
 glances. 
 
 "Cook the chickens to a turn; and, 
 mark you, have the turbot and sauce 
 hot, and plenty of wine," he said. "Look 
 to t; the vintage I named, Master Land 
 lord. I know the bouquet and sparkle 
 and the ripple o er the palate." 
 
 " Who is to pay for all this, sir? " asked 
 the landlord, aghast at the order. 
 
 "Insolent!" replied Charles. "I com 
 mand it, sirrah." 
 
 "Pardon, sir," humbly suggested the
 
 A Merry Tale of a Merry Time 
 
 landlord; "guineas, and not words, com 
 mand here." 
 
 "Odso!" muttered the King, remem 
 bering his disguise. " My temper will re 
 veal me. Never fear, landlord," he boasted 
 loudly. "You shall be paid, amply paid. 
 I will pledge myself you shall be paid." 
 
 " Pardon, sir," falteringly repeated the 
 landlord, rubbing his hands together 
 graciously; "but the order is a costly one 
 and you 
 
 "Do not look flourishing?" said 
 Charles, as he laughingly finished the 
 sentence, glancing somewhat dubiously 
 himself at his own dress. "Never judge 
 a man by his rags. Plague on t, though; 
 I would not become my own creditor 
 upon inspection. Take courage, good 
 Master Landlord; England s debt is in 
 my pocket." 
 
 " How many to supper, sir? " asked the 
 landlord, fearful lest he might offend. 
 
 "Two! Two! Only two!" decisively 
 exclaimed Charles. " A man is an extrav 
 agant fool who dines more. The third is 
 expensive and in the way. Eh, landlord? " 
 
 [ H3 ]
 
 Mistress Nell 
 
 The King winked gaily at the land 
 lord, who grinned in response and dropped 
 his eyes more respectfully. 
 
 "Two, sir," acquiesced the landlord. 
 
 "Aye, mine host, thou art favoured be 
 yond thy kind," laughed Charles, know 
 ingly, as he dwelt upon the joys of a feast 
 incognito alone with Nell. "A belated 
 goddess would sup at thy hostelry." The 
 landlord s eyes grew big with astonish 
 ment. "I will return. Obey her every wish, 
 dost hear, her every wish, and leave the 
 bill religiously to me. "Charles swaggered 
 gaily up the steps to the entry-way and 
 out the door. 
 
 The moon-face of the inn-keeper grew 
 slowly serious. He could not reconcile the 
 shabby, road-bespattered garments of the 
 strange cavalier with his princely com 
 mands. 
 
 "Body o me!" he muttered, lighting 
 one by one the candles in the room, till 
 the rafters fairly glowed in expectation of 
 the feast. "Roundhead-beggar, on my life ! 
 Turbot and capons and the best vintage! 
 The King could not have better than this 
 
 [ H4 ]
 
 A Merry Tale of a Merry Time 
 
 rogue. Marry, he shall have the best in 
 the larder; but Constable Swallow shall 
 toast his feet in the kitchen, with a mug 
 of musty ale to make him linger." 
 
 The corners of the mouth in the moon- 
 face ascended in a chuckle. 
 
 "His ragged lordship 11 settle the bill 
 very religiously," he thought, "or sleep 
 off his swollen Roundhead behind the 
 bars." 
 
 He passed into the kitchen and gave 
 the order for the repast. As he returned, 
 there was a tap at the door; and he hast 
 ened to the window. 
 
 "Bless me, a petticoat!" he cried. 
 "Well, he s told the truth for once. She s 
 veiled. Ashamed of her face or ashamed 
 of him." 
 
 He opened the door and ushered in a 
 lady dressed in white; across her face and 
 eyes was thrown a scarf of lace. 
 
 "Not here?" questioned the new 
 comer, glancing eagerly about the room 
 and peeping into every nook and corner 
 without the asking, to the astonishment 
 of the inn-keeper. 
 
 [ 145 ]
 
 Mistress Nell 
 
 "Not here?" she asked herself again, 
 excitedly. "Tell me, tell me, is this Ye 
 Blue Boar Inn?" 
 
 "Yes, lady " replied the landlord, 
 graciously. 
 
 " Good, good ! Has she been here? Have 
 you seen her?" 
 
 "Who, the goddess?" asked the land 
 lord, stupidly. 
 
 "The goddess!" retorted Nell, for it 
 was none other, with humorous irony of 
 lip. " How can you so belie the Duchess? " 
 She laughed merrily at the thought. 
 
 There was a second knock; and the 
 landlord again hastened to the window. 
 
 " Tis she; tis she!" exclaimed Nell, 
 excitedly. "Haste ye, man; I am in 
 waiting! What has she on? How is she 
 dressed?" 
 
 " Body o me ! " exclaimed the landlord, 
 in awe, as he craned his neck at the sash. 
 " Tis a lady of quality." 
 
 "Bad quality," ejaculated Nell. 
 
 "She has come in a chair of silver," 
 cried the landlord. 
 
 "My chair shall be of beaten gold, 
 
 [ H6 ]
 
 A Merry Tale of a Merry Time 
 
 then," thought Nell, with a twinkle of the 
 eye. "Charles, you must raise the taxes." 
 
 "Mercy me, the great lady s coming 
 in," continued the landlord, beside him 
 self in his excitement. 
 
 " She shall be welcome, most welcome, 
 landlord," observed Nell promptly. 
 
 " Body o me! What shall I say? "asked 
 the landlord, in trembling accents. 
 
 " Faith and troth," replied Nell, coming 
 to his rescue, " I will do the parlez-vous- 
 ing with her ladyship. Haste thee, thou 
 grinning fat man." She glided quickly 
 into a corner of the old fireplace, where 
 she could not be observed so readily. 
 
 The Duchess of Portsmouth entered, 
 with all the haughty grandeur of a queen. 
 She glanced about contemptuously, and 
 her lip could be seen to curl, even through 
 the veil which partially hid her face. 
 
 "This bourgeois place," she said, "to 
 sup with the King! It cannot be! Gar^on!" 
 
 "What a voice," reflected Nell, in her 
 
 hiding-place, "in which to sigh, I love 
 
 > )> 
 you. 
 
 "Barbarous place!" exclaimed Ports- 
 
 [ 147 1
 
 Mistress Nell 
 
 mouth. "His Majesty must have lost his 
 wits." 
 
 She smiled complacently, however, as 
 she reflected that the King might consent 
 even within these walls and that his sign- 
 manual, if so secured, would be as bind 
 ing as if given in a palace. 
 
 "Garpon!" again she called, irritably. 
 
 Nell was meanwhile inspecting her ri 
 val from top to toe. Nothing escaped her 
 quick eye. " I 11 wager her complexion 
 needs a veil," she muttered, with vixenish 
 glee. " That gown is an insult to her native 
 France." 
 
 "Gar$on; answer me," commanded 
 Portsmouth, fretfully. 
 
 The landlord had danced about her 
 grace in such anxiety to please that he 
 had displeased. He had not learned the 
 courtier s art of being ever present, yet 
 never in the way. 
 
 "Yes, your ladyship," he stupidly re 
 peated again and again. "What would 
 your ladyship?" 
 
 "Did a prince leave commands for 
 supper?" she asked, impatiently. 
 
 [ -48 ]
 
 A Merry Tale of a Merry Time 
 
 " No, your ladyship," he replied, ob 
 sequiously. "A ragged rogue ordered a 
 banquet and then ran away, your lady 
 ship." 
 
 "How, sirrah?" she questioned, an 
 grily, though the poor landlord had 
 meant no discourtesy. 
 
 "If he knew his guests, he would 
 ne er return," softly laughed Nell. 
 
 " Par bleu" continued Portsmouth, in 
 her French, impatient way, now quite in 
 censed by the stupidity of the landlord, 
 "a cavalier would meet me at Ye Blue 
 Boar Inn; so said the messenger." 
 
 She suddenly caught sight of Nell, 
 whose biting curiosity had led her from 
 her hiding-place. "This is not the ren 
 dezvous," she reflected quickly. "We 
 were to sup alone." 
 
 The landlord still bowed and still ut 
 tered the meaningless phrase: "Yes, your 
 ladyship." 
 
 The Duchess was at the end of her pa 
 tience. " Mon Dieu" she exclaimed, "do 
 you know nothing, sirrah?" 
 
 The moon-face beamed. The head 
 
 [ H9 ]
 
 Mistress Nell 
 
 bowed and bowed and bowed; the hands 
 were rubbed together graciously. 
 
 "Good lack, I know not; a supper for 
 a king was ordered by a ragged Round 
 head," he replied. " Here are two petti 
 coats, your ladyship. When I know which 
 petticoat is which petticoat, your lady 
 ship, I will serve the dinner." 
 
 The tavern-keeper sidled toward the 
 kitchen-door. As he went out, he mut 
 tered, judiciously low: "I wouldn t give 
 a ha penny for the choice." 
 
 "Beggar!" snapped Portsmouth. 
 "Musty place, musty furniture, musty 
 gar f on, musty everything!" 
 
 She stood aloof in the centre of the 
 room as if fearful lest she might be con 
 taminated by her surroundings. 
 
 Nell approached her respectfully. 
 
 "You may like it better after supper, 
 madame," she suggested, mildly. "A good 
 spread, sparkling wine and most congenial 
 company have cast a halo o er more time- 
 begrimed rafters than these." 
 
 Who are you, madame?" inquired 
 the Duchess, haughtily. 
 
 [ 150]
 
 A Merry Tale of a Merry Time 
 
 "A fellow-passenger on the earth," 
 gently replied Nell, "and a lover of good 
 company, and some wine." 
 
 " Yes? " said the Duchess, in a way that 
 only a woman can ask and answer a ques 
 tion with a "yes" and with a look such 
 as only a woman can give another woman 
 when she asks and answers that little ques 
 tion with a "yes." 
 
 There was a moment s pause. 
 
 The Duchess continued : " Perhaps you 
 have seen the cavalier I await." 
 
 "Marry, not I," replied Nell,promptly ; 
 and she bethought her that she had kept 
 a pretty sharp lookout for him, too. 
 
 "Is this a proper place for a lady to 
 visit?" pompously inquired the Duchess. 
 
 "You raise the first doubt," said Nell 
 quickly. 
 
 "Madame!" exclaimed Portsmouth, 
 interrupting her, with fiery indignation. 
 
 " I say, you are the first to question the 
 propriety of the place," explained Nell, 
 apologetically, though she delighted in 
 wardly at the intended shot which she 
 had given her grace.
 
 Mistress Nell 
 
 " I came by appointment," continued 
 the Duchess; "but it seems I was mis 
 led. Garpon, my chair!" 
 
 The Duchess made a move toward the 
 door, but Nell s words stopped her. 
 
 "Be patient, Duchess! He is too gal 
 lant to desert you." 
 
 "She knows me!" thought Ports 
 mouth. She turned sharply upon the 
 stranger. " I have not the pleasure of 
 your acquaintance, madame." 
 
 "Such is my loss, not yours," replied 
 Nell, suavely. 
 
 "Remove your veil," commanded the 
 Duchess; and her eyes flashed through 
 her own. 
 
 " I dare not before the beauty of Ver 
 sailles," continued Nell, sweetly. "Re 
 move yours first. Then I may take mine 
 off unseen." 
 
 "Do I know you?" suspiciously in 
 quired Portsmouth. 
 
 "I fear not," said Nell, meekly, and 
 she courtesied low. "I am but an hum 
 ble player called Nell Gwyn." 
 
 The Duchess raised herself to her full 
 height. [ 152 ]
 
 A Merry Tale of a Merry Time 
 
 "Nell Gwyn!" she hissed, and she 
 fairly tore off her veil. 
 
 "Your grace s most humble servant," 
 said Nell, again courtesying low and 
 gracefully removing her veil. 
 
 "This is a trap," exclaimed the Duch 
 ess, as she realized the situation. 
 
 "Heaven bless the brain that set it 
 then," sweetly suggested Nell. 
 
 "Your own, minx," snapped Ports 
 mouth. "I ll not look at the hussy!" she 
 muttered. She crossed the room and seated 
 herself upon the bench, back to Nell. 
 
 "Your grace would be more kind if 
 you knew my joy at seeing you." 
 
 " And why? " asked the Duchess, ironi 
 cally. 
 
 "I would emulate your warmth and 
 amiability," tenderly responded Nell. 
 
 "Yes?" said Portsmouth; but how 
 much again there was in her little "yes," 
 accented as it was with a French shrug. 
 
 "I adore a beautiful woman," contin 
 ued Nell, "especially when I know her 
 to be " 
 
 "A successful rival?" triumphantly 
 
 [ 153 ]
 
 Mistress Nell 
 
 asked the Duchess. 
 
 "A rival!" exclaimed Nell, in well- 
 feigned astonishment, still toying with 
 the Duchess s temper. " Is the poor ac 
 tress so honoured in a duchess s thought? 
 Your grace is generous." 
 
 If all the angels had united, they could 
 not have made her speech more sweet or 
 her manner more enticing. 
 
 "I presumed you might conceive it 
 so," replied Portsmouth, with mocking, 
 condescending mien. 
 
 Nell approached her timidly and spoke 
 softly, lovingly, subserviently. 
 
 " A rival to the great Duchess of Ports 
 mouth!" she said. "Perish the thought! 
 It is with trepidation I look upon your 
 glorious face, madame ; a figure that would 
 tempt St. Anthony; a foot so small it 
 makes us swear the gods have lent in 
 visible wings to waft you to your con 
 quest. Nay, do not turn your rosy lip in 
 scorn; I am in earnest, so in earnest, that, 
 were I but a man, I would bow me down 
 your constant slave unless perchance 
 you should grow fat." 
 
 [ -54]
 
 A Merry Tale of a Merry Time 
 
 The turn was delicious: Nell s face was 
 a study; and so was Portsmouth s. 
 
 The Duchess sprang to her feet, real 
 izing fully for the first time that she had 
 been trapped and trifled with. "Hussy! 
 Beware your own lacings," she angrily 
 exclaimed, turning now full face upon 
 her adversary. 
 
 Nell was leaning against the table across 
 the room, quietly observing Portsmouth 
 upon the word-wrack. Her whole manner 
 had changed. She watched with evident 
 delight the play of discomfiture, mingled 
 with contempt, upon the beautiful Duch 
 ess s face. 
 
 " Me fat ! " she derisively laughed. " Be 
 sure I shall never grow too much so. And 
 have not the stars said I shall ne er grow 
 old? " 
 
 "Your stars are falser than yourself," 
 tartly snapped the Duchess. 
 
 "Mayhap," said Nell, still gleeful; 
 "but mark you this truth: I shall reign 
 queen of Love and Laughter while I live, 
 and die with the first wrinkle." 
 
 She was interrupted by his Majesty, 
 
 [ 55 ]
 
 Mistress Nell 
 
 who, unsuspecting, swaggered into the 
 room in buoyant spirits. 
 
 "The King!" exclaimed Nell, as she 
 slyly glanced over her shoulder. 
 
 The King looked at one woman and 
 then at the other in dismay and horror. 
 
 " Scylla and Charybdis! " he muttered, 
 nervously, glancing about for means of es 
 cape. " All my patron-saints protect me ! " 
 
 Nell was by his side in an instant. 
 
 "Good even to your Majesty," she 
 roguishly exclaimed. " How can I ever 
 thank you, Sire, for inviting the Duch 
 ess to sup with me! I have been eager to 
 meet her ladyship." 
 
 " Ods-pitikins," he thought, "a loop 
 hole for me." 
 
 "Well, you see " he said, "a little 
 surprise, Nelly, a little surprise for 
 me." The last two words were not audible 
 to his hearers. He looked at the beau 
 tiful rivals an instant, then ventured, " I 
 hoped to be in time to introduce you, 
 ladies." 
 
 "Oh, your Majesty," asserted Nell, 
 consolingly, "we are already quite well 
 
 [ 156 ]
 
 A Merry Tale of a Merry Time 
 
 acquainted. I knew her grace through 
 her veil." 
 
 "No doubt on t," observed the King, 
 knowingly. 
 
 " Yes, Sire," said the Duchess, haugh 
 tily, casting a frigid glance at Nell, "I 
 warrant we understand each other per 
 fectly." 
 
 " Better and better," said Charles, with 
 a sickly laugh. 
 
 His Majesty saw rocks and shoals 
 ahead, and his wits could find no chan 
 nel of escape. He turned in dire distress 
 upon Nell, who stood aloof. She looked 
 up into his face with the innocence of a 
 babe in every feature. 
 
 "Minx, this is your work!" he whis 
 pered. 
 
 "Yes, Sire!" she answered, mock-re 
 provingly, bending quite to the floor as 
 she courtesied low. 
 
 "Yes, Sire. Baggage!" he exclaimed 
 good-naturedly despite himself. 
 
 As he turned away, praying Heaven 
 to see him out of the difficulty, he ob 
 served the landlord, who had just entered 
 
 [ 157 1
 
 Mistress Nell 
 
 with bread and cups, muttering some du 
 bious invocations to himself. He clutched 
 at this piece of human stupidity like a 
 drowning man clutching at a straw: "Ah, 
 landlord, bring in what we live for; and 
 haste ye, sirrah. The wine! The wine!" 
 
 "It is ready, sir," obsequiously replied 
 the landlord, who had just sense enough 
 in his dull cranium to reflect also, by 
 way of complement, " So is Constable 
 Swallow." 
 
 "Good news, good news!" cried 
 Charles; and he tossed his plumed hat 
 upon the sideboard, preparatory to the 
 feast. "D ye hear, my fair and loving 
 friends? Come, it is impolite to keep the 
 capons waiting. My arms; my arms!" 
 
 The King stepped gallantly between 
 the ladies, making a bold play for peace. 
 The Duchess took one arm formally. 
 Nell seized the remaining arm and al 
 most hugged his Majesty, nestling her 
 head affectionately against his shoulder. 
 Charles observed the decorum of due dig 
 nity. He was impartial to a fault; for he 
 realized that there only lay his salvation. 
 
 [ 158 ]
 
 A Merry Tale of a Merry Time 
 
 The phalanx approached the feast in 
 solemn march. The King tossed his head 
 proudly and observed: "Who would not 
 play the thorn with two such buds to 
 blush on either side?" 
 
 There was a halt. The Duchess looked 
 coldly at the table, then coldly at the 
 King, then more coldly at Nell. The 
 King looked at each inquiringly. 
 
 " I thought your Majesty ordered sup 
 per for three," she said. " It is set for two." 
 
 "Odsfish, for two!" cried Charles, 
 glancing, anxiously, for the first time at 
 the collation. 
 
 Nell had taken her place at the feast, 
 regardless of formality. She was looking 
 out for herself, irrespective of King or 
 Duchess. She believed that a dinner, like 
 the grave, renders all equal. 
 
 "Egad!" she exclaimed, as she dwelt 
 upon the force of the Duchess s observa 
 tion. " Our host is teaching us the virtues 
 of economy." 
 
 The unsuspecting landlord re-entered 
 at this moment, wine in hand, which he 
 proceeded to place upon the table. 
 
 [ 159 ]
 
 Mistress Nell 
 
 "What do you mean, knave, by this 
 treachery!" almost shrieked the King at 
 sight of him. "Another plate, dost hear; 
 another plate, dog!" 
 
 " Bless me," explained the landlord, in 
 confusion, "you said supper for two, sir; 
 that a man was a fool who dined more; 
 that the third was expensive and in the 
 way." 
 
 " Villain ! " cried Charles, in a hopeless 
 effort to suppress the fellow, " I said two 
 two beside myself. I never count 
 myself in the presence of these ladies." 
 
 The landlord beat a hasty retreat. 
 
 The Duchess smiled a chilling smile, 
 and asked complacently: 
 
 " Which one of us did you expecl:, 
 Sire?" 
 
 "Yes, which did you expe6l, Sire?" 
 laughed Nell. 
 
 "Oh, my head," groaned Charles; 
 "well, well, you see Duchess, the 
 matter lies in this wise 
 
 "Let me help your Majesty," gener 
 ously interrupted Nell. " Her ladyship is 
 ill at figures. You see, Charles and I are 
 [ 160 ]
 
 A Merry Tale of a Merry Time 
 
 one, and you make two, Duchess." 
 
 "I spoke to the King," haughtily re 
 plied the Duchess, not deigning to glance 
 at Nell. 
 
 The King placed his hands upon his 
 forehead in bewilderment. 
 
 "This is a question for the Prime Min 
 ister and sages of the realm in council." 
 
 "There are but two chairs, Sire," con 
 tinued Portsmouth, coldly. 
 
 "Two chairs!" exclaimed the Merry 
 Monarch, aghast, as he saw the breach 
 hopelessly widening. "I am lost." 
 
 " That is serious, Sire," said Nell, sadly ; 
 and then her eye twinkled as she sug 
 gested, " but perhaps we might make out 
 with one, for the Duchess s sake. I am so 
 little." 
 
 She turned her head and laughed gaily, 
 while she watched the Duchess s face out 
 of the corner of her eye. 
 
 " Sheart," sighed the King, "I have 
 construed grave controversies of state in 
 my time, but ne er drew the line yet be 
 twixt black eyes and blue, brunette and 
 blonde, when both were present. Another 
 
 [ 161 ]
 
 Mistress Nell 
 
 chair, landlord! Come, my sweethearts; 
 eat, drink and forget." 
 
 The King threw himself carelessly into 
 a chair in the hope that, in meat and drink, 
 he might find peace. 
 
 "Aye," acquiesced Nell, who was al 
 ready at work, irrespective of ceremony, 
 "eat, drink and forget! I prefer to quarrel 
 after supper." 
 
 " I do not," said the Duchess, who still 
 stood indignant in the centre of the room. 
 
 Nell could scarce speak, for her mouth 
 ful; but she replied gaily, with a French 
 shrug, in imitation of the Duchess: 
 
 " Oh, very well ! I have a solution. Let s 
 play sphinx, Sire." 
 
 Charles looked up hopefully. 
 
 "Anything for peace," he exclaimed. 
 "How is t?" 
 
 " Why," explained Nell, with the phil 
 osophical air of a learned doctor, "some 
 years before you and I thought much 
 about the ways and means of this wicked 
 world, your Majesty, the Sphinx spent 
 her leisure asking people riddles; and if 
 they could not answer, she ate them alive. 
 
 [ 162]
 
 A Merry Tale of a Merry Time 
 
 Give me some of that turbot. Don t stand 
 on ceremony, Sire ; for the Duchess is wait- 
 ing." 
 
 The King hastened to refill Nell s plate. 
 
 "Thank you," laughed the vixen; 
 "that will do for now. Let the Duchess 
 propound a riddle from the depths of her 
 subtle brain; and if I do not fathom it 
 upon the instant, Sire, tis the Duchess s 
 not Nell s evening with the King." 
 
 " Odsfish, a great stake ! " cried Charles. 
 He arose with a serio-comic air, much 
 pleased at the turn things were taking. 
 
 "Don t be too confident, madame," 
 ironically suggested the Duchess; "you 
 are cleverer in making riddles than in 
 solving them." 
 
 As she spoke, the room was suddenly 
 filled with savoury odour. The moon 
 faced landlord had again appeared, flour 
 ishing a platter containing two finely 
 roasted chickens. His face glowed with 
 pride and ale. 
 
 "The court s famished," exclaimed 
 Charles, as he greeted the inn-keeper; 
 "proceed!" 
 
 [ 63 ]
 
 Mistress Nell 
 
 "Two capons! I have it," trium 
 phantly thought Portsmouth, as she re- 
 fle6ted upon a riddle she had once heard 
 in far-off France. It could not be known 
 in England. Nothing so clever could be 
 known in England. She looked con 
 temptuously at Nell, and then at the two 
 chickens, as she propounded it. 
 
 "Let your wits find then three capons 
 on this plate." 
 
 "Three chickens!" cried Charles, in 
 wonderment, closely scrutinizing the two 
 fowl upon the plate and then looking up 
 inquiringly at the Duchess. "There are 
 but two." 
 
 Nell only gurgled. 
 
 "Another glass, landlord, and I 11 see 
 four," she said. "Here s to you two, 
 and to me too." She drank gaily to her 
 toast. 
 
 "That is not the answer, madame," 
 coldly retorted the Duchess. 
 
 "Are we come to blows over two inno 
 cent chickens? " asked Charles, somewhat 
 concerned still for the outcome. "Bring 
 on your witnesses." 
 
 t i6 4 ]
 
 A Merry Tale of a Merry Time 
 
 "This is one chicken, your Majesty," 
 declared the Duchess. "Another s two; 
 and two and one make three." 
 
 With much formality and something 
 of the air of a conjurer, she counted the 
 first chicken and the second chicken and 
 then recounted the first chicken, in such 
 a way as to make it appear that there were 
 three birds in all. 
 
 The King, who was ill at figures, like 
 all true spendthrifts, sat confused by her 
 speech. Nell laughed again. The land 
 lord, who was in and out, stopped long 
 enough to enter upon his bill, in ram 
 bling characters, "3 chickens." This was 
 all his dull ear had comprehended. He 
 then piously proceeded on his way. 
 
 "Gadso!" exclaimed the King, woe 
 fully. "It is too much for me." 
 
 "Pooh, pooh, tis too simple for you, 
 Sire," laughed Nell. " I solved it when a 
 child. Here is my bird; and here is your 
 bird; and our dearest Duchess shall sup 
 on her third bird!" 
 
 Nell quickly spitted one chicken upon 
 a huge fork and so removed it to her own
 
 Mistress Nell 
 
 plate. The second chicken, she likewise 
 conveyed to his Majesty s. Then, with 
 all the politeness which she only could 
 summon, she bowed low and offered the 
 empty platter to the Duchess. 
 
 Portsmouth struck it to the board an 
 grily with her gloved hand and steadied 
 herself against the table. 
 
 "Hussy!" she hissed, and forthwith 
 pretended to grow faint. 
 
 Charles was at her elbow in an instant, 
 supporting her. 
 
 "Oh, Sire, I " she continued, in 
 her efforts to speak. 
 
 " What is it? " cried Charles, seriously, 
 endeavouring to assist her. " You are pale, 
 Louise." 
 
 " I am faint," replied she, with much 
 difficulty. " Pardon my longer audience, 
 Sire; I am not well. Gar f on, my chair. 
 Assist me to the door." 
 
 The fat landlord made a hasty exit, for 
 him, toward the street, in his desire to 
 help the great lady. Charles supported 
 her to the threshold. 
 
 "Call a leech, Sire," cried Nell after 
 [ 166 ]
 
 A Merry Tale of a Merry Time 
 
 them, with mock sympathy. " Her grace 
 has choked on a chicken-bone." 
 
 " Be still, wench," commanded the 
 King. " Do not leave us, Louise; it breaks 
 the sport." 
 
 "Nay," pleaded Nell also, "do not 
 go because of this little merry-making, 
 Duchess. I desire we may become better 
 friends." 
 
 Her voice revived the Duchess. 
 
 "Sansdoute, we shall, madame," Ports 
 mouth replied, coldly. "A mon ball Pas 
 adieu, mais au revoir." 
 
 The great Duchess courtesied low, 
 kissed the King s hand, arose to her full 
 height and, with an eye-shot at Nell, took 
 her departure.
 
 CHAPTER X 
 
 Arrest him yourself! 
 
 JL HE King stood at the door, thought 
 fully reflecting on the temper of the de 
 parting Duchess. She wasa maid of honour 
 and, more than that, an emissary from his 
 brother Louis of France. Gossip said he 
 loved her, but it was not true, though he 
 liked her company exceeding well when 
 the mood suited. He regretted only the 
 evening s incident, with the harsher feel 
 ing it was sure to engender. 
 
 Nell stood by the fireplace, mutter 
 ing French phrases in humorous imita 
 tion of her grace. Observing the King s 
 preoccupation, she tossed a serviette mer 
 rily at his head. 
 
 This brought his Majesty to himself 
 again. He turned, and laughed as he saw 
 her; for his brain and heart delighted in 
 her merry-making. He loved her. 
 
 "What means this vile French?" she 
 [ 68 ]
 
 A Merry T a/e of a Merry Time 
 
 asked, with delicious suggestion of the 
 shrug, accent and manner of her van 
 quished rival. 
 
 "The Duchess means," explained the 
 King, "that she gives a royal ball " 
 
 "And invites me?" broke in Nell, 
 quickly, placing her elbows upon a cask 
 and looking over it impishly at Charles. 
 
 " And invites you not" said the King, 
 "and so outwits you." 
 
 " By her porters wits and not her own," 
 retorted Nell. 
 
 She threw herself into a chair and be 
 came oblivious for the moment of her 
 surroundings. 
 
 "The French hussy! So she gives a 
 ball?" she thought. "Well, well, I ll be 
 there! I ll teach her much. Oh, I ll be 
 pretty, too, aye, very pretty. No fear yet 
 of rivalry or harm for England." 
 
 Charles watched her amusedly, ear 
 nestly, lovingly. The vixen had fallen 
 unconsciously into imitating again the 
 Duchess s foreign ways, as an accompa 
 niment even for her thoughts. 
 
 Sans doute^ we shall, madame" Nell 
 
 [ 69 ]
 
 Mistress Nell 
 
 muttered audibly, with much gesticu 
 lating and a mocking accent. "A mon 
 ball Pas adieu^ mats au revoir" 
 
 The King came closer. 
 
 "Are you ill," he asked, "that you do 
 mutter so and wildly a<5t?" 
 
 " I was only thinking that, if I were a 
 man," she said, turning toward him play 
 fully, " I would love your Duchess to de 
 votion. Her wit is so original, her repartee 
 so sturdy. Your Majesty s taste in horses 
 and some women is excellent." 
 
 She crossed the room gaily and threw 
 herself laughing upon the bench. The 
 King followed her. 
 
 "Heaven help the being, naughty 
 Nell," he said, "who offends thy merry 
 tongue; but I love thee for it." He sat 
 down beside her in earnest adoration, then 
 caught her lovingly in his arms. 
 
 " Love me? " sighed Nell, scarce mind 
 ful of the embrace. "Ah, Sire, I am but 
 a plaything for the King at best, a caprice, 
 a fancy naught else." 
 
 " Nay, sweet," said Charles, " you have 
 not read this heart." 
 
 [ 170 ]
 
 A Merry Ta/e of a Merry Time 
 
 " I have read it too deeply," replied 
 Nell, with much meaning in her voice. 
 "It is this one to-day, that one to-morrow, 
 with King Charles. Ah, Sire, your love 
 for the poor player-girl is summed up 
 in three little words: I amuse you!" 
 
 "Amuse me!" exclaimed Charles, 
 thoughtfully. "Hark ye, Nell! States 
 may marry us; they cannot make us love. 
 Ye Gods, the humblest peasant in my 
 realm is monarch of a heart of his own 
 choice. Would I were such a king!" 
 
 "What buxom country lass," asked 
 Nell, sadly but wistfully, "teaches your 
 fancy to follow the plough, my truant 
 master?" 
 
 " You forget : I too," continued Charles, 
 " have been an outcast, like Orange Nell, 
 seeking a crust and bed." 
 
 He arose and turned away sadly to sup 
 press his emotion. He was not the King 
 of England now: he was a man who had 
 suffered; he was a man among men. 
 
 " Forgive me, Sire," said Nell, tenderly, 
 as a woman only can speak, " if I recall un 
 happy times."
 
 Mistress Nell 
 
 "Unhappy!" echoed Charles, while 
 Fancy toyed with Recollection. " Nell, in 
 those dark days, I learned to read the hu 
 man heart. God taught me then the dis 
 tinction twixt friend and enemy. When 
 a misled rabble had dethroned my father, 
 girl, and murdered him before our palace 
 gate, and bequeathed the glorious arts and 
 progressive sciences to religious bigots 
 and fanatics, to trample under foot and 
 burn when, if a little bird sang over- 
 joyously, they cut out his tongue for dar 
 ing to be merry in some lonely home 
 by some stranger s hearth, a banished 
 prince, called Charles Stuart, oft found 
 an asylum of plenty and repose; and in 
 your eyes, my Nell, I read the self-same, 
 loyal, English heart." 
 
 There was all the sadness of great music 
 in his speech. Nell fell upon her knee, 
 and kissed his hand, reverently. 
 
 "My King!" she said; and her voice 
 trembled with passionate love. 
 
 He raised her tenderly and kissed her 
 upon the lips. 
 
 "My queen," he said; and his voice
 
 A Merry Tale of a Merry Time 
 
 too trembled with passionate love. 
 
 " And Milton says that Paradise is lost," 
 whispered Nell. Her head rested on the 
 King s shoulder. She looked up the 
 picture of perfect happiness into his 
 eyes. 
 
 "Not while Nell loves Charles," he 
 said. 
 
 "And Charles remembers Nell," her 
 voice answered, softly. 
 
 Meanwhile, the rotund landlord had 
 entered unobserved; and a contrast he 
 made, indeed, to the endearing words of 
 the lovers as at this instant he uncere 
 moniously burst forth in guttural accents 
 with: 
 
 "The bill! The bill for supper, sir!" 
 
 Nell looked at the King and the King 
 looked at Nell; then both looked at the 
 landlord. The lovers sense of humour was 
 boundless. That was their first tie; the 
 second, their hearts. 
 
 " The bill ! " repeated Nell, smothering 
 a laugh. "Yes, we were just speaking of 
 the bill." 
 
 " How opportune ! " exclaimed Charles, 
 
 [ 73 ]
 
 Mistress Nell 
 
 taking the cue. "We feared you would 
 forget it, sirrah." 
 
 "See that it is right," ejaculated Nell. 
 
 The King glanced at the bill indiffer 
 ently, but still could not fail to see " 3 
 chickens" in unschooled hand. His eyes 
 twinkled and he glanced at the landlord, 
 but the latter avoided his look with a pre 
 tence of innocence. 
 
 " Gad," said Charles, with a swagger, 
 "what are a few extra shillings to Parlia 
 ment? Here, my man." He placed a hand 
 in a pocket, but found it empty. "No; 
 it is in the other pocket." He placed 
 his hand in another, only to find it also 
 empty. Then he went through the re 
 maining pockets, one by one, turning 
 them each out for inspection his face 
 assuming an air of mirthful hopelessness 
 as he proceeded. He had changed his 
 garb for a merry lark, but had neglected 
 to change his purse. "Devil on t, I 
 have forgotten Odsfish, where is my 
 treasurer?" he exclaimed at last. 
 
 "Your treasurer!" shrieked the land 
 lord, who had watched Charles s search, 
 
 [ -74 ]
 
 A Merry Tale of a Merry Time 
 
 with twitching eyes. " Want your treas 
 urer, do ye? Constable Swallow 11 find 
 him for ye. Constable Swallow! I knew 
 you were a rascal, by your face." 
 
 Charles laughed. 
 
 This exasperated the landlord still fur 
 ther. He began to flutter about the room 
 aimlessly, bill in hand. He presented it to 
 Charles and he presented it to Nell, who 
 would have none of it; while at intervals 
 he called loudly for the constable. 
 
 " Peace, my man," entreated Nell ; " be 
 still for mercy s sake." 
 
 "Good lack, my lady," pleaded the 
 landlord, in despair, "good lack, but you 
 would not see a poor man robbed by a vag 
 abond, would ye? Constable Swallow! " 
 
 The situation was growing serious in 
 deed. The King was mirthful still, but 
 Nell was fearful. 
 
 " Nell, have you no money to stop this 
 heathen s mouth?" he finally ejaculated, 
 as he caught up his bonnet and tossed it 
 jauntily upon his head. 
 
 " Not a farthing," replied she, sharply. 
 " I was invited to sup, not pay the bill." 
 
 [ 75 ]
 
 Mistress Nell 
 
 "If the King knew this rascal," yelled 
 the landlord at the top of his voice, point 
 ing to Charles, "he would be behind the 
 bars long ago." 
 
 This was too much for his Majesty, 
 who broke into the merriest of laughs. 
 
 "Verily, I believe you," he admitted. 
 Then he fell to laughing again, almost 
 rolling off the bench in his glee. 
 
 "Master Constable," wildly repeated 
 the landlord, at the kitchen-door. "Let 
 my new wife alone; they are making off 
 with the house." 
 
 Nell was filled with consternation. 
 
 " He ll raise the neighbourhood, Sire," 
 she whispered to Charles. " Have you no 
 money to stop this heathen s mouth?" 
 
 " Not even holes in my pockets," calmly 
 replied the Merry Monarch. 
 
 " Odsfish, what company am I got 
 into!" sighed Nell. She ran to the land 
 lord and seized his arm in her endeavour 
 to quiet him. 
 
 The landlord, however, was beside 
 himself. He stood at the kitchen-door 
 gesticulating ferociously and still shout- 
 
 [ 176 ]
 
 A Merry Tale of a Merry Time 
 
 ing at the top of his voice: "Constable 
 Swallow! Help, help; thieves; Constable 
 Swallow!" 
 
 Swallow staggered into the room with 
 all his dignity aboard. Tankard in hand, 
 he made a dive for the table, and catch 
 ing it firmly, surveyed the scene. 
 
 Nell turned to her lover for protection. 
 
 "Murder, hie!" ejaculated the con 
 stable. "Thieves! What s the row? 
 Hie!" 
 
 " Arrest this blackguard," commanded 
 the landlord, nervously, " this perfiler of 
 honest men." 
 
 " Arrest ! You drunken idiot ! " indig 
 nantly exclaimed Charles; and his sword 
 cut the air before the constable s eyes. 
 
 Nell seized his arm. Her woman s in 
 tuition showed her the better course. 
 
 "You will raise a nest of them," she 
 whispered. "You need your wits, Sire; 
 not your sword." 
 
 " Nay; come on, I say," cried Charles, 
 fearlessly. "We ll see what his Majesty s 
 constables are made of." 
 
 "You rogue Posse /"exclaimed Swal- 
 
 [ 177 ]
 
 Mistress Nell 
 
 low, starting boldly for the King, then 
 making a brilliant retreat, calling loudly 
 for help, as the rapier tickled him in the 
 ribs. 
 
 "You ruffian Posse!" he continued 
 to call, alternately, first to one and then to 
 the other; for his fear paralyzed all but 
 his tongue. "You outlaw Posse commi- 
 ti-titous hie ! " 
 
 Buzzard also now entered from his 
 warm nest in the kitchen, so intoxicated 
 that he vented his enthusiasm in song, 
 which in this case seemed apt: 
 
 "The man that is drunk is as great as a king." 
 
 "Another champion of the King s 
 law!" ejaculated Charles, not without a 
 shadow of contempt in his voice, once 
 more assuming an attitude of defence. 
 
 "Oh, Charles!" pleaded Nell, again 
 catching his arm. 
 
 " Posse , arrest that vagabond," com 
 manded the constable, from a point of 
 safety behind the table. 
 
 "Aye, aye, sir," replied the obedient 
 Buzzard. "On what charge hie?" 
 
 [ 178 ]
 
 A Merry Tale of a Merry Time 
 
 "He s a law-breaker and a robber!" 
 yelled the watchful landlord. 
 
 " He called the law a drunken idiot. 
 Hie hie!" woefully wailed Swallow. 
 "Odsbud, that s treason! Arrest him, 
 posse hie!" 
 
 " Knave, I arrest hie ! " asserted Buz 
 zard. 
 
 The posse started boldly enough for his 
 game, but was suddenly brought to a stand 
 still in his reeling course by the sharp 
 point of the rapier playing about his legs. 
 He made several indignant efforts to over 
 come the obstacle. The point of the blade 
 was none too gentle with him, even as he 
 beat a retreat; and his enthusiasm waned. 
 
 "Arrest him yourself hie!" he ex 
 claimed. 
 
 Swallow s face grew red with rage. To 
 have his orders disobeyed fired him with 
 much more indignation of soul than the 
 escape of the ruffian, who was simply 
 defrauding the landlord of a dinner. He 
 turned hotly upon the insubordinate fosse, 
 crying: 
 
 "I ll arrest you, you Buzzard hie!" 
 
 [ 179 1
 
 Mistress Nell 
 
 "I ll arrest you, you Swallow hie!" 
 with equal dignity retorted Buzzard. 
 
 "I m his Majesty s constable hie!" 
 hissed Swallow, from lips charged with 
 air, bellows-like. 
 
 " I m his Majesty s/tf-n^ hie ! " hissed 
 Buzzard in reply. 
 
 The two drunken representatives of 
 the law seized each other angrily. The 
 landlord, in despair, endeavoured hope 
 lessly to separate them. 
 
 "A wrangle of the generals," laughed 
 Charles. "Now is our time." He looked 
 about quickly for an exit. 
 
 "Body o me! The vagabonds 11 es 
 cape," shouted the landlord. 
 
 "Fly, fly!" said Nell. "This way, 
 Charles." 
 
 She ran hastily toward the steps lead 
 ing to the entry-way; the King assisted 
 her. 
 
 "Stop, thief! Stop, thief!" screamed 
 the landlord. "The bill! The bill!" 
 
 "Send it to the Duchess!" replied 
 Nell, gaily, as she and the Merry Mon 
 arch darted into the night.
 
 A Merry Tale of a Merry Time 
 
 The landlord turned in despair, to find 
 the drunken champions of the King s 
 law in a struggling heap upon the floor. 
 He raised his foot and took out vengeance 
 where vengeance could be found.
 
 CHAPTER XI 
 
 In the field, men; at court y women! 
 
 XT was the evening of Portsmouth s 
 long-awaited bal masque. Music filled 
 her palace with rhythmic sound. In the 
 gardens, its mellowing strains died away 
 among the shrubs and over-hanging 
 boughs. In every nook and corner wan 
 dered at will the nobility the richest 
 the greatest in the land. 
 
 None entertain like the French ; and the 
 Duchess had, indeed, exhausted French 
 art in turning the grand old place into a 
 land of ravishing enchantment, with its 
 many lights, its flowers, its works of art. 
 Her abode was truly an enlivening scene, 
 with its variety of maskers, bright domi 
 noes and vizards. 
 
 The King was there and took a merry 
 part in all the sport, although, beneath 
 his swaggering abandon, there lurked a 
 vein of sadness. He laughed heartily, he 
 
 [ 182 ]
 
 A Merry Tale of a Merry Time 
 
 danced gaily, he jested with one and all; 
 but his manner was assumed. The shrewd 
 est woman s eye could not have seen it; 
 though she might have felt it. Brother 
 James too enjoyed the dance, despite his 
 piety; and Buckingham, Rochester and a 
 score of courtiers beloved by the King en 
 tered mirthfully into the scene, applaud 
 ing the Duchess s entertainment heartily. 
 
 As the evening wore apace, the merry 
 maskers grew merrier and merrier. In a 
 drawing-room adjoining the great ball 
 room, a robber-band, none other than sev 
 eral gallants, whose identity was concealed 
 by silken vizards, created huge amuse 
 ment by endeavouring to steal a kiss from 
 Lady Hamilton. She feigned shyness, 
 then haughtiness, then anger; then she 
 ran. They were after her and about her in 
 an instant. There were cries of "A kiss!" 
 "A kiss!" "This way!" "Make a circle 
 or she 11 escape us ! " 
 
 A dozen kisses so were stolen by the 
 eager gallants before my lady broke away, 
 stamping her foot in indignation, as she 
 exclaimed: 
 
 [ 183 ]
 
 Mistress Nell 
 
 "Nay, I am very angry, very " 
 
 "That there were no more, wench!" 
 laughed Buckingham. "Marry, tis a 
 merry night when Portsmouth reigns. 
 Long live the Duchess in the King s 
 heart!" 
 
 " So you may capture its fairer favour 
 ite, friend Buckingham?" suggested the 
 King, softly; and there was no hidden 
 meaning in his speech, for the King sus 
 pected that Buckingham s heart as well 
 was not at Portsmouth s and Bucking 
 ham knew that the King suspected it. 
 
 Buckingham was the prince of court 
 iers; he bowed low and, saying much 
 without saying anything, replied respect 
 fully: 
 
 " So I may console her, Sire, that she 
 is out-beautied by France to-night." 
 
 "Out-beautied! Not bidden, thou 
 mean st," exclaimed the King, his 
 thoughts roving toward Nelly s terrace. 
 Ah, how he longed to be there! "The 
 room is close," he fretted. "Come, gal 
 lants, to the promenade!" 
 
 He was dressed in white and gold; and
 
 A Merry Tale of a Merry Time 
 
 a princely prince he looked, indeed, as the 
 courtiers separated for him to pass out be 
 tween them. 
 
 All followed save Buckingham, whom 
 Portsmouth s eye detained. 
 
 She broke into a joyous laugh as she 
 turned from the tapestry-curtains,through 
 which she could see his Majesty the 
 centre of a mirthful scene without. 
 
 "What say you now, my lord?" she 
 asked, triumphantly, of Buckingham. "I 
 am half avenged already, and the articles 
 half signed. The King is here despite his 
 Madame Gwyn, and in a playful mood 
 that may be tuned to love." 
 
 Buckingham s ardour did not kindle as 
 she hoped. 
 
 "Merriment is oft but Sadness s mask, 
 Louise," he replied, thoughtfully. 
 
 "What meanest thou?" she asked, in 
 her nervous, Gallic way, and as quickly, 
 her mind anticipating, answered: "This 
 trifle of the gossips that Charles advances 
 the player s whim to found a hospital at 
 Chelsea, for broken-down old soldiers? Ce 
 nest rien ! " 
 
 [ 185 j
 
 Mistress Nell 
 
 She broke into a mocking laugh. 
 
 "Aye!" replied Buckingham, quietly 
 but significantly. "The orders are issued 
 for its building and the people are cheer 
 ing Nell throughout the realm." 
 
 "Ma foil" came from the Duchess s 
 contemptuous lips. "And what say the 
 rabble of Portsmouth? " 
 
 "That she is Louis s pensioner sent 
 here from France a spy!" he answered, 
 quickly and forcefully too. "The hawkers 
 cry it in the streets." 
 
 "Fools! Fools!" she mused. Then, 
 making sure that no arras had ears, she 
 continued: "Before the night is done, 
 thou shalt hear that Luxembourg has 
 fallen to the French Mark! Luxem 
 bourg! Feed the rabble on that, my lord. 
 Heaven preserve King Louis!" 
 
 The Duke started incredulously. When 
 had Portsmouth seen the King? and by 
 what arts had she won the royal consent? 
 A score of questions trembled on his lips 
 and yet were checked before the utter 
 ance. Not an intimation before of her suc 
 cess had reached his ear, though he had 
 [ 86 ]
 
 A Merry Tale of a Merry Time 
 
 advised with the Duchess almost daily 
 since their accidental meeting below 
 Nell s terrace. Indeed, in his heart, he 
 had never believed that she would be 
 able so to dupe the King. The shadow 
 from the axe which fell upon Charles I. 
 still cast its warning gloom athwart the 
 walls of Whitehall; and, in the face of 
 the temper of the English people and 
 of well-known treaties, the acquiescence 
 of Charles II. in Louis s project would be 
 but madness. Luxembourg was the key 
 strategetically to the Netherlands and the 
 states beyond. Its fall meant the aug 
 mentation of the Empire of Louis, the 
 personal ignominy of Charles! 
 
 " Luxembourg ! " He repeatedthe word 
 
 cautiously. "King Charles did not con- 
 
 >> 
 sent 
 
 "Nay," replied the Duchess, in her 
 sweetest way, "but I knew he would; 
 and so I sent the message in advance." 
 
 "Forgery! Twas boldly done, Lou 
 ise," cried Buckingham, in tones of ad 
 miration mixed with fear. 
 
 " I knew my power, my lord," she said
 
 Mistress Nell 
 
 confidently; and her eyes glistened with 
 womanly pride as she added: "The con 
 sent will come." 
 
 Buckingham s eyes usually so frank 
 fell; and, for some seconds, he stood 
 seemingly lost in abstraction over the 
 revelations made by the Duchess. He was, 
 however, playing a deeper game than he 
 appeared to play. Apparently in thought 
 lessness, he began to toy with a ring which 
 hung upon a ribbon about his neck and 
 which till then had been cautiously con 
 cealed. 
 
 "Nay, what have you there?" ques 
 tioned Portsmouth. 
 
 Buckingham s face assumed an expres 
 sion of surprise. He pretended not to com 
 prehend the import of her words. 
 
 She pointed to the ring. 
 
 He glanced at it as though he re 
 gretted it had been seen, then added care 
 lessly, apparently to appease but really to 
 whet the Duchess s curiosity: 
 
 "Merely a ring the King gave Nell." 
 
 There was more than curiosity now in 
 Portsmouth s eyes. 
 
 [ 88 ]
 
 A Merry Tale of a Merry Time 
 
 "I borrowed it to show it you," con 
 tinued Buckingham, indifferently, then 
 asked, with tantalizing calmness: " Is your 
 mission quite complete? " 
 
 With difficulty, the Duchess mastered 
 herself. Without replying, she walked 
 slowly toward the table, in troubled 
 thought. The mask of crime revealed it 
 self in her beautiful features, as she said, 
 half to herself: 
 
 "I have a potion I brought from 
 France." 
 
 She was of the Latin race and poison 
 was a heritage. 
 
 Buckingham caught the words not 
 meant for him, and realized too well 
 their sinister meaning. Poison Nell! His 
 eyes swept the room fearfully and he 
 shuddered. He hastened to Portsmouth s 
 side, and in cold whispers importuned 
 her: 
 
 "For Heaven s mercy, woman, as you 
 love yourself and me poison is an un 
 healthy diet to administer in England." 
 
 The Duchess turned upon him impa 
 tiently. The black lines faded slowly from 
 
 [ 89 ]
 
 Mistress Nell 
 
 her face; but they still were there, be 
 neath the beauty-lines. 
 
 "My servants have watched her house 
 without avail," she sneered. "Your plan 
 is useless; my plan will work." 
 
 "Stay!" pleaded Buckingham, still 
 fearful. "We can ourselves entice some 
 adventurous spirit up Nell s terrace, then 
 trap him. So our end is reached." 
 
 "Aye," replied the Duchess, in milder 
 mood, realizing that she had been over- 
 hasty at least in speech, "the minx pre 
 sumes to love the King, and so is hon 
 est! But of her later. The treaties! He 
 shall sign to-night to-night, I say." 
 
 With a triumphant air, she pointed 
 to the quills and sand upon a table in 
 readiness for his signing. 
 
 Buckingham smiled approvingly; and 
 in his smile lurked flattery so adroit that 
 it pleased the Duchess despite herself. 
 
 " Lord Hyde, St. Albans and the rest," 
 said he, "are here to aid the cause." 
 
 "Bah!" answered Portsmouth, with 
 a shrug. "In the field, men; at court, 
 women! This girl has outwitted you all.
 
 A Merry Tale of a Merry Time 
 
 I must accomplish my mission alone. 
 Charles must be Louis s pensioner in 
 full; England the slave of France! My 
 fortune Le Grand Roi s regard hang 
 upon it." 
 
 Buckingham cautioned her with a 
 startled gesture. 
 
 "Nay," smiled Portsmouth, compla 
 cently, "I may speak frankly, my lord; 
 for your head is on the same block still 
 with mine." 
 
 "And my heart, Louise," he said, in ad 
 miration. "Back to the King! Do noth 
 ing rash. We will banish thy rival, dear 
 hostess." 
 
 He did not add, save in thought, that 
 Nell s banishment, if left to him, would 
 be to his own country estate. 
 
 There was almost a touch of affeclion 
 in the Duchess s voice as she prepared to 
 join the King. 
 
 " Leave all to me, my lord," she said, 
 then courtesied low. 
 
 "Yea, all but Nell!" reflected his lord 
 ship, as he watched her depart. "With 
 this ring, I ll keep thee wedded to jeal-
 
 Mistress Nell 
 
 ous interest, and so enrich my purse and 
 power. Thou art a great woman, fair 
 France; I half love thee myself. But 
 thou knowest only a moiety of my pur 
 pose. The other half is Nell!" 
 
 He stood absorbed in his own thoughts. 
 
 The draperies at the further door-way, 
 on which was worked in Gobelin tapes 
 try a forest with its grand, imposing oaks, 
 were pushed nervously aside. Jack Hart 
 entered, mask in hand, and scanned the 
 room with skeptic eye. 
 
 "A happy meeting," mused Bucking 
 ham, reflecting upon Hart s one-time 
 ardour for Mistress Nell and upon the 
 possibility that that ardour, if directed by 
 himself, might yet compromise Nell in 
 the King s eyes and lead to the realiza 
 tion of his own fond dreams of greater 
 wealth and power and, still more sweet, 
 to the possession of his choice among all 
 the beauties of the realm. 
 
 "It is a sad hour," thought Hart, 
 glancing at the merry dancers through 
 the arch, "when all the world, like play 
 ers, wear masks." 
 
 [ 192 ]
 
 A Merry Tale of a Merry Time 
 
 Buckingham assumed an air of bon 
 homie. 
 
 "Whither away, Master Hart?" he 
 called after the player, who started per 
 ceptibly at his voice. "Let not thy fancy 
 play truant to this gay assemblage, to 
 mope in St. James s Park." 
 
 "My lord!" exclaimed Hart, hotly. 
 The fire, however, was gone in an in 
 stant; and he added, evidently under 
 strong constraint: "Pardon; but we pre 
 fer to change the subjecl." 
 
 "The drift s the same," chuckled the 
 shrewd Buckingham; "we may turn it 
 to advantage." He approached the player 
 in a friendly manner. " Be not angry," he 
 exclaimed soothingly; "for there s a rift 
 even in the clouds of love. Brighter, man; 
 for King Charles was seeking your wits 
 but now." 
 
 "He d have me play court-fool for 
 him?" asked the melancholy mime, who 
 had in his nature somewhat of the cyni 
 cism of Jaques, without his grand imag 
 inings of soul. "There are many off" the 
 stage, my lord, in better practice." 
 
 [ 193 1
 
 Mistress Nell 
 
 "True, most true," acquiesced Buck 
 ingham; "I could point them out." 
 
 He would have continued in this vein 
 but beyond the door, whence Hart had 
 just appeared, leading by a stair-way of 
 cupids to the entrance to the palace, arose 
 the sound of many voices in noisy alter 
 cation. 
 
 "Hark ye, hark!" he exclaimed, in an 
 alarmed tone. "What is t? Confusion in 
 the great hall-way below. We 11 see to t." 
 
 He had assumed a certain supervision 
 of the palace for the night. With the 
 player as a body-guard, he accordingly 
 made a hasty exit.
 
 CHAPTER XII 
 
 Beau Adair is my name. 
 
 A HE room was not long vacant. The 
 hostess herself returned. She was radiant. 
 
 As she crossed the threshold, she 
 glanced back proudly at the revellers, 
 who, led by his Majesty, were turning 
 night into day with their merry-making. 
 She had the right, indeed, to be proud; 
 for the evening, though scarce half spent, 
 bespoke a complete triumph for her en 
 tertainment. This was the more gratify 
 ing too, in that she knew that there were 
 many at court who did not wish the " im 
 ported " Duchess, as they called her, or her 
 function well, though they always smiled 
 sweetly at each meeting and at each part 
 ing and deigned now to feast beyond the 
 limit of gentility upon her rich wines and 
 collations. 
 
 The bal masque, however, as we have 
 seen, was with the Duchess but a means 
 
 [ -95 ]
 
 Mistress Nell 
 
 to an end. She took from the hand of a 
 pretty page the treaties, lately re-drawn 
 by Bouillon, and glanced hastily over the 
 parchments to see that her instructions 
 from Louis were covered by their words. 
 A smile played on her arching lips as she 
 read and re-read and realized how near 
 she was to victory. 
 
 "Tis Portsmouth s night to-night!" 
 she mused. " My great mission to Eng 
 land is nearly ended. Dear France, I feel 
 that I was born for thy advancement." 
 
 She seated herself by the table, where 
 the materials for writing had been placed, 
 and further dwelt upon the outcome of 
 the royal agreements, their contingencies 
 and triumphs. She could write Charles 
 Rex almost as well as the King, she 
 thought, as her eye caught the places left 
 for his signature. 
 
 " Bouillon never fails me," she mut 
 tered. "Drawn by King Charles s con 
 sent, except perchance some trifling ar 
 ticles which I have had interlined for 
 Louis s sake. We need not speak of them. 
 It would be troublesome to Charles. A 
 
 [ 196 ]
 
 A Merry Tale of a Merry Time 
 
 little name and seal will make these pa 
 pers history." 
 
 Her reflexions were interrupted by the 
 return of Buckingham, who was laugh 
 ing so that he could scarcely speak. 
 
 "What is t?" she asked, petulantly. 
 
 "The guard have stayed but now a 
 gallant, Irish youth," replied he, as best 
 he could for laughter, "who swore that 
 he had letters to your highness. Oh, he 
 swore, indeed; then pleaded; then threat 
 ened that he would fight them all with 
 single hand. Of course, he won the ladies 
 hearts, as they entered the great hall, by 
 his boyish swagger; but not the guards. 
 Your orders were imperative that none 
 unbidden to the ball could enter." 
 
 " T is well," cried Portsmouth. " None, 
 none! Letters to me! Did he say from 
 whom?" 
 
 "He said," continued Buckingham, 
 still laughing, "that he was under orders 
 of his master to place them only in the 
 Duchess s hands. Oh, he is a very lordly 
 youth." 
 
 The Duke throughout made a sad 
 
 [ 97 ]
 
 Mistress Nell 
 
 attempt at amusing imitations of the 
 brogue of the strange, youthful, Irish 
 visitor who, with so much importunity, 
 sought a hearing. 
 
 Portsmouth reflected a moment and 
 then said: " I will see him, Buckingham, 
 but briefly." 
 
 Buckingham, not a little surprised, 
 bowed and departed graciously to con 
 vey the bidding. 
 
 The Duchess lost herself again in 
 thought. "His message may have im 
 port," she reflected. "Louis sends strange 
 messengers ofttimes." 
 
 In the midst of her reverie, the tapestry 
 at the door was again pushed back, cau 
 tiously this time, then eagerly. There en 
 tered the prettiest spark that ever graced 
 a kingdom or trod a measure. 
 
 It was Nell, accoutred as a youth; and 
 a bold play truly she was making. Her 
 face revealed that she herself was none 
 too sure of the outcome. 
 
 "By my troth," she thought, as she 
 glanced uncomfortably about the great 
 room, " I feel as though I were all 
 
 [ 198 ]
 
 A Merry Tale of a Merry Time 
 
 breeches." She shivered. " It is such a lit 
 tle way through these braveries to me." 
 
 Her eyes turned involuntarily to the 
 corner where Portsmouth sat, now dream 
 ing of far-off France. 
 
 "The Duchess!" her lips breathed, al 
 most aloud, in her excitement. " So you d 
 play hostess to his Majesty," she thought, 
 "give a royal ball and leave poor Nelly 
 home, would you?" 
 
 The Duchess was conscious only of a 
 presence. 
 
 "Garpon!" she called, without look 
 ing up. ^ 
 
 Nell jumped a foot. 
 
 "That shook me to the boots," she 
 ejaculated, softly. 
 
 "Garpon!" again called the impatient 
 Duchess. 
 
 "Madame," answered Nell, fearfully, 
 the words seeming to stick in her fair 
 throat, as she hastily removed her hat and 
 bethought her that she must have a care 
 or she would lose her head as well, by 
 forgetting that she was an Irishman with 
 a brogue. 
 
 [ 199 1
 
 Mistress Nell 
 
 "Who are you?" asked Portsmouth, 
 haughtily, as, rising, with surprised eyes, 
 she became aware of the presence of a 
 stranger. 
 
 Indeed, it is not strange that she was 
 surprised. The youth who stood before 
 her was dressed from top to toe in gray 
 the silver-gray which lends a colour to the 
 cheek and piquancy to the form. The dress 
 was of the latest cut. The hat had the 
 longest plume. The cloak hung gracefully 
 save where the glistening sword broke its 
 falling lines. The boots were neat, well 
 rounded and well cut, encasing a jaunty 
 leg. The dress was edged with silver. 
 
 Ah, the strange youth was a love, in 
 deed, with his bright, sparkling eyes, his 
 lips radiant with smiles, his curls falling 
 to his shoulders. 
 
 " Well," stammered Nell, in awkward 
 hesitation but in the richest brogue, as the 
 Duchess repeated her inquiry, " I m just 
 I, madame." 
 
 The Duchess smiled despite herself. 
 
 "You re just you," she said. "That s 
 very clear." 
 
 [ 200 ]
 
 A Merry Tale of a Merry Time 
 
 "Yes, that s very clear," reiterated 
 Nell, still fearful of her ground. 
 
 "A modest masker, possibly," sug 
 gested Portsmouth, observing the youth s 
 embarrassment and wishing to assist him. 
 
 "Yea, very modest," replied Nell, her 
 speech still stumbling, " almost ashamed." 
 
 Portsmouth s eyes looked sharply at 
 her. 
 
 " She suspecls me," thought Nell, and 
 her heart leaped into her throat. " I am 
 lost boots and all." 
 
 " Your name? " demanded the Duchess 
 again, impatiently. 
 
 For the life of her Nell could not think 
 of it. 
 
 " You see," she replied evasively, " I m 
 in London for the first time in my present 
 self, madame, and " 
 
 "Your name and mission, sir?" The 
 tone was imperative. 
 
 Nell s wits returned to her. 
 
 "Beau Adair is my name," she stam 
 mered, "and your service my mission." 
 
 It was out, though it had like to have 
 choked her, and Nell was more herself 
 
 201
 
 Mistress Nell 
 
 again. The worst she had feared was that 
 the Duchess might discover her identity 
 and so turn the tables and make her the 
 laughing-stock at court. She grew, in 
 deed, quite hopeful as she observed a 
 kindly smile play upon the Duchess s lips 
 and caught the observation : " Beau Adair ! 
 A pretty name, and quite a pretty fellow." 
 
 A smile of self-satisfaftion and a low 
 bow were Nell s reply. 
 
 "Vain coxcomb!" cried Portsmouth, 
 reprovingly, though she was highly 
 amused and even pleased with the strange 
 youth s conceit. 
 
 "Nay; if I admire not myself," wist 
 fully suggested Nell, in reply, with pre 
 tence of much modesty, "who will praise 
 poor me in this great palace? " 
 
 "You are new at court?" asked Ports 
 mouth, doubtingly. 
 
 "Quite new," asserted Nell, gaining 
 confidence with each speech. " My Lon 
 don tailor made a man of me only to-day." 
 
 "A man of you only to-day!" cried 
 the Duchess, in wonderment. 
 
 "He assured me, madame," Nell hast- 
 [ 202 ]
 
 A Merry Tale of a Merry Time 
 
 ened to explain, "that the fashion makes 
 the man. He did not like my former fash 
 ion. It hid too much that was good, he 
 said. I am the bearer of this letter to the 
 great Duchess of Portsmouth; that you 
 are she, I know by your royalty." 
 
 She bowed with a jaunty, boyish bow, 
 sweeping the floor with her plumed hat, 
 as she offered the letter. 
 
 "Oh, you are the gentleman," said 
 Portsmouth, recalling her request to 
 Buckingham, which for the instant had 
 quite escaped her. She took the letter and 
 broke the seal eagerly. 
 
 "She does not suspecl:," thought Nell; 
 and she crossed quickly to the cur 
 tained arch, leading to the music and the 
 dancing, in the hope that she might see 
 the King. 
 
 Portsmouth, who was absorbed in the 
 letter, did not observe her. 
 
 " From Rochet ! Dear Rochet ! " mused 
 the Duchess, as she read aloud the lines: 
 " The bearer of this letter is a young 
 gallant, very modest and very little versed 
 in the sins of court." 
 
 [ 2 3 ]
 
 Mistress Nell 
 
 "Very little," muttered Nell, with a 
 mischievous wink, still intent upon the 
 whereabouts and doings of the King. 
 
 " He is of excellent birth, " continued 
 the Duchess, reading, " brave, young and 
 to be trusted to be trusted. I commend 
 him to your kindness, protection and ser 
 vice, during his stay in town." 
 
 She reflected a moment intently upon 
 the letter, then looked up quickly. Nell 
 returned, somewhat confused, to her side. 
 
 "This is a very strong letter, sir," said 
 Portsmouth, with an inquiring look. 
 
 "Yes, very strong," promptly acqui 
 esced Nell; and she chuckled as she 
 recalled that she had written it herself, 
 taking near a fortnight in the composi 
 tion. Her fingers ached at the memory. 
 
 "Where did you leave Rochet?" in 
 quired the Duchess, almost incredulously. 
 
 "Leave Rochet?" thought Nell, 
 aghast. " I knew she would ask me some 
 thing like that." 
 
 There was a moment s awkwardness 
 Nell was on difficult ground. She feared 
 lest she might make a misstep which 
 
 [ 2 4 ]
 
 A Merry Tale of a Merry Time 
 
 would reveal her identity. The Duchess 
 grew impatient. Finally, Nell mustered 
 courage and made a bold play for it, as 
 ever true to her brogue. 
 
 " Where did I leave Rochet? " she said, 
 as if she had but then realized the Duch 
 ess s meaning, then boldly answered: "In 
 Cork." 
 
 " In Cork ! " cried Portsmouth, in blank 
 surprise. " I thought his mission took him 
 to Dublin." She eyed the youth closely 
 and wondered if he really knew the mis 
 sion. 
 
 "Nay; Cork!" firmly repeated Nell; 
 for she dared not retracl, lest she awaken 
 suspicion. "I am quite sure it was Cork 
 I left him in." 
 
 " Quite sure? " exclaimed the Duchess, 
 her astonishment increasing with each 
 confused reply. 
 
 "Well, you see, Duchess," said Nell, 
 "we had an adventure. It was dark; and 
 we were more solicitous to know whither 
 the way than whence." 
 
 The Duchess broke into a merry laugh. 
 The youth had captured her, with his 
 
 [ 2 5 ]
 
 Mistress Nell 
 
 wistful, Irish eyes, his brogue and his 
 roguish ways. 
 
 " We give a ball to-night," she said, 
 gaily. "You shall stay and see the King." 
 
 "The King!" cried Nell, feigning 
 fright. "I should tremble so to see the 
 King." 
 
 "You need not fear," laughed the host 
 ess. "He will not know you." 
 
 " I trust not, truly," sighed Nell, with 
 much meaning, as she scanned her scanty 
 masculine attire. 
 
 "Take my mask," said the Duchess, 
 graciously. " As hostess, I cannot wear it." 
 
 Nell seized it eagerly. She would be 
 safe with this little band of black across 
 her eyes. Even the King would not know 
 her. 
 
 "I shall feel more comfortable behind 
 this," she said, naively. 
 
 " Did you ever mask? " inquired Ports 
 mouth, gaily. 
 
 "Nay, I am too honest to deceive," 
 answered Nell; and her eyes grew so 
 round and so big, who would not be 
 lieve her? 
 
 [ 206 ]
 
 A Merry Tale of a Merry Time 
 
 "But you are at court now," laughed 
 the Duchess, patronizingly. "Masking is 
 the first sin at court." 
 
 "Then I ll begin with the first sin," 
 said Nell, slyly, raising the Duchess s fin 
 gers to her lips, "and run the gamut." 
 
 They passed together into the great 
 ball-room, Nell exercising all her arts of 
 fascination and they were many. The 
 music ceased as they entered. The dancers, 
 and more especially the ladies, eyed curi 
 ously the jaunty figure of the new-comer. 
 There were merry whisperings among 
 them. 
 
 " Who can he be? " asked one, eagerly. 
 "What a pretty fellow!" exclaimed a 
 second, in admiration. "I ve been eying 
 him," said a third, complacently. 
 
 The men too caught the infeclion. 
 
 " Who can he be? " inquired Rochester. 
 
 " Marry, I 11 find out," said Lady Ham 
 ilton, with an air of confidence, having 
 recovered by this time from the kisses 
 which had been thrust upon her and be 
 ing now ready for a new flirtation. 
 
 She approached Adair, artfully, and 
 [ 207 ]
 
 Mistress Nell 
 
 inquired: "Who art thou, my butterfly? 
 Tell me now, e er I die." Her attitude was 
 a credit to the extremes of euphuism. 
 
 There was general laughter at her pre 
 sumptuous and effete pose and phrase. 
 
 The ladies had gathered about the new 
 hero, like bees about new clover. The 
 gallants stood, or sat as wall-flowers in a 
 row, deserted. The King too had been 
 abandoned for the lion of the hour and 
 sat disconsolate. 
 
 "Peace, jealous ones!" cried Lady 
 Hamilton, reprovingly, then continued, 
 with a winning way: "I know thou art 
 Apollo himself, good sir." 
 
 Nell smiled complacently, though she 
 felt her mask, to assure herself that it was 
 firm. 
 
 "Apollo, truly," she said, jauntily, "if 
 thou art his lyre, sweet lady." 
 
 Lady Hamilton turned to the Duchess. 
 
 "Oh, your grace," she asked, lan- 
 guishingly, " tell us in a breath, tell us, 
 who is this dainty beau of the ball?" 
 
 "How am I to know my guests," an 
 swered Portsmouth, feigning innocence, 
 
 2o8
 
 A Merry Tale of a Merry Time 
 
 "with their vizors down? Nay, sweet sir, 
 unmask and please the ladies. F faith, who 
 art thou?" 
 
 The hostess was delighted. The popu 
 larity of the new-comer was lending a 
 unique novelty to her entertainment. She 
 was well pleased that she had detained 
 Monsieur Adair. She thought she saw a 
 jealous look in the King s usually care 
 lessly indifferent gaze when she encour 
 aged the affectionate glances of the Irish 
 youth. 
 
 " F faith," laughed Nell, in reply, " I 
 know not, Duchess." 
 
 "D ye hear?" said Portsmouth. "He 
 knows not himself." 
 
 "But I have a suspicion, Duchess," 
 sighed Nell. 
 
 " Hark ye, "laughed Portsmouth, with 
 a very pretty pout, "he has a suspicion, 
 ladies." 
 
 "Nay, you will tell?" protested Nell, 
 as the ladies gathered closer about her 
 in eager expectation. 
 
 There was a unison of voices to the 
 contrary. 
 
 [ 209 ]
 
 Mistress Nell 
 
 " Trust us, fair sir," said one. " Oh, we 
 are good at keeping secrets." 
 
 "Then, twixt you and me, I am " 
 began Nell; and she hesitated, teasingly. 
 
 The group about grew more eager, 
 more wild with curiosity. 
 
 " Yes, yes " they exclaimed together. 
 
 "I am," said Nell, "the Pied Piper 
 of Hamlin Town." 
 
 "The rat-catcher," cried Portsmouth. 
 "Oh, oh, oh!" 
 
 There was a lifting of skirts, revealing 
 many high-born insteps, and a scramble 
 for chairs, as the ladies reflected upon 
 the long lines of rats in the train of the 
 mesmeric Pied Piper. 
 
 "Flee, flee!" screamed Lady Hamil 
 ton, playfully. " He may pipe us into the 
 mountains after the children." 
 
 "You fill me with laughter, ladies," 
 said Portsmouth to her guests. "The man 
 does not live who can entrap me." 
 
 "The woman does," thought Nell, as, 
 mock-heroically, she placed near her lips 
 a reed-pipe which she had snatched from 
 a musician in the midst of the fun; and,
 
 A Merry Tale of a Merry Time 
 
 whistling a merry tune which the pipe 
 took no part in, she circled about the 
 room, making quite a wizard s exit. 
 
 The ladies, heart and soul in the fun, 
 fell into line and followed, as if spell-bound 
 by the magic of the Piper. 
 
 Charles, James, Rochester and the gal 
 lants, who remained, each of whom had 
 been in turn deserted by his fair lady, 
 unmasked and looked at one another in 
 wonderment. Of one accord, they burst 
 into a peal of laughter. 
 
 "Sublime audacity," exclaimed 
 Charles. "Who is this curled darling 
 this ball-room Adonis? Ods-pitikins, we 
 are in the sear and yellow leaf." 
 
 "Truly, Sire," said James, dryly, "I 
 myself prefer a gathering of men only." 
 
 "Brother James," forthwith impor 
 tuned the King, waggishly, "will you fa 
 vour me with your lily-white hand for the 
 next dance? I am driven to extremity." 
 
 "Pardon, Sire," replied James, quite 
 humorously for him, " I am engaged to 
 a handsomer man." 
 
 "Odsfish," laughed Charles, "King
 
 Mistress Nell 
 
 Charles of England a wall-flower. Come, 
 Rochester, my epitaph." 
 
 The King threw himself into a chair, in 
 an attitude of hopeless resignation, quite 
 delicious. 
 
 Rochester perked up with the conceit 
 and humour of the situation. With the 
 utmost dignity, and with the quizzical, 
 pinched brow of the labouring muse, halt 
 ing at each line, he said: 
 
 " Here lies our sovereign lord, the King, 
 
 Whose word no man relies on; 
 Who never said a foolish thing, 
 And never did a wise one ! " 
 
 The post-mortem verse was sufficiently 
 subtle and clever to revive the King s 
 drooping spirits; and he joined heartily 
 in the applause. 
 
 "The matter," he said, approvingly, 
 "is easily accounted for my discourse is 
 my own, my actions are my Ministry s." 
 
 There was a frou-frou of petticoats. 
 The hostess entered gaily. 
 
 "The King! The courtiers! Un 
 masked!" she exclaimed, in coy reproof. 
 
 2I2
 
 A Merry Tale of a Merry Time 
 
 "Fy, fy, your Majesty! For shame! Gal 
 lants! Are you children that I must pair 
 you off?" 
 
 "We are seeking consolation," sug 
 gested Charles, dryly; "for modest souls 
 have small chance to-night, Louise." 
 
 He nodded significantly in the direc 
 tion of the great ball-room, where the 
 chatter of women s voices betokened the 
 unrivalled popularity of Nell. 
 
 "When did you turn modest, Sire?" 
 slyly inquired Portsmouth, with a look 
 of love. 
 
 "When I was out-stripped in audacity 
 by yon Hibernian youth," replied the 
 King, seriously. "Who is this peacock 
 you are introducing?" 
 
 A peal of laughter from without punct 
 uated the King s speech. It was the re 
 ward of a wit-thrust from Nell. 
 
 "The Piper the maids would now un 
 mask? " queried Portsmouth, rapturously. 
 "Marry, tis the fascinating Beau Adair 
 of Cork, entertaining the ladies. Oh, he 
 is a love, Sire; he does not sulk in corners. 
 See! See!" 
 
 [ 213 ]
 
 Mistress Nell 
 
 She pointed toward the archway, 
 through which Nell was plainly visible. 
 She was strutting jauntily back and forth 
 upon the promenade. It is unnecessary to 
 say that she was escorted by the assembled 
 fair ones. 
 
 As Nell caught the eye of the hostess 
 in the distance, she gaily tossed a kiss to 
 her. 
 
 " Sdeath, that I were a woman to hope 
 for one of his languishing smiles," ob 
 served Buckingham. 
 
 "Even the old hens run at his call," 
 sneered the pious James, in discontent; 
 for he too had been deserted by his lady 
 love and even before the others. 
 
 The King looked at his brother with 
 an air of bantering seriousness, to the de 
 light of all assembled. 
 
 "Brother James is jealous of the old 
 ones only," he observed. " You know his 
 favourites are given him by his priests for 
 penance." 
 
 A merry ripple ran through the group. 
 
 The hostess took advantage of the 
 King s speech to make a point. 
 
 [ Hi
 
 A Merry Tale of a Merry Time 
 
 "And you are jealous of the young 
 ones only," she said, slyly, quickly adding 
 as a bid for jealousy: "Pooh, pooh! Le 
 Beau had letters to me, Sire. Nay, we do 
 not love him very much. We have not 
 as yet had time." 
 
 "Alas, alas," sighed Charles, with 
 drooping countenance, "that it should 
 come to this." 
 
 "My liege, I protest " cried Ports 
 mouth, hastily, fearful lest she might have 
 gone too far. "To-night is the first I ever 
 saw the youth. I adore you, Sire." 
 
 "Not a word!" commanded Charles, 
 with mock-heroic mien. He waved his 
 hand imperatively to his followers. 
 "Friends," he continued, "we will mix 
 masks and dominoes and to t again to 
 drown our sorrow." 
 
 "In the Thames?" inquired James, 
 facetiously for him. 
 
 "Tush! In the punch-bowl, pious 
 brother! " protested the Merry Monarch, 
 with great dignity. "You know, a very 
 little water will drown even a king." 
 
 The gallants mixed masks and domi- 
 
 [ 215 ]
 
 Mistress Nell 
 
 noes in obedience to the royal wish. The 
 King, sighing deeply, cast a hopeless 
 glance at Portsmouth, not without its 
 tinge of humour. He then sauntered 
 slowly toward the windows of the great 
 ball-room, followed subserviently by all 
 the courtiers, save Buckingham, who was 
 lost in converse with player Hart. 
 
 "Hark ye," suddenly broke off Buck 
 ingham, observing the approach of Adair 
 and his adorers, "here come again the 
 merry maskers. By Bacchus, the li ttle ban 
 tam still reigns supreme. The King and 
 his gallants in tears. Let us join the mourn 
 ers, Master Hart." 
 
 As the Duke and the player, the former 
 assuming a fraternal air for an end of his 
 own, joined the royal group, Nell re-en 
 tered gaily, every inch the man. She was 
 still surrounded by the ladies, who, flut 
 tering, flattering and chattering, hung 
 upon her every word. With one hand she 
 toyed with her mask, which she had good- 
 naturedly dropped as none were about 
 who knew her. She clapped it, however, 
 quickly to her eyes at sight of the King.
 
 A Merry Tale of a Merry Time 
 
 "You overwhelm me, my fair ones," 
 she said, with spirit, as she held court in 
 the centre of the room. "I assure you, I 
 am not used to such attention from the 
 ladies." 
 
 "Our hospitality is beggarly to your 
 deserts," sighed Portsmouth, who had 
 joined the bevy, but loud enough for the 
 King to hear. 
 
 "You quite o erpower me, Duchess," 
 answered Nell, modestly, adding for the 
 satisfaction of her own sense of humour: 
 "No wonder we men are fools, if you 
 women talk like this." 
 
 While she was speaking, Lady Ham 
 ilton whispered facetiously in Ports 
 mouth s ear. 
 
 " Beau Adair married! " exclaimed the 
 Duchess, in response. "It cannot be. He 
 looks too gay for a married man." 
 
 "No confidences, my pretty ones," 
 observed Nell, reprovingly. 
 
 The hostess hesitated ; then she out with 
 it in a merry strain. 
 
 "Lady Hamilton asks after the wife 
 you left at home." 
 
 [ 217 ]
 
 Mistress Nell 
 
 "My wife!" cried Nell, in astonish 
 ment; for this phase of her masquerading 
 had not presented itself to her before. 
 "Great Heavens, I have no wife I as 
 sure you, ladies!" 
 
 " So? " observed Portsmouth, her curi 
 osity awakened. "Modest for a bache 
 lor." 
 
 "A bachelor!" exclaimed Nell, now 
 fully en rapport with the spirit of the situ 
 ation. "Well, not exactly a bachelor 
 either, ladies." 
 
 " Alack-a-day," sighed Lady Hamil 
 ton, with a knowing glance at her com 
 panions, "neither a bachelor nor a mar 
 ried man!" 
 
 "Well, you see " explained Nell, 
 adroitly, "that might seem a trifle 
 queer, but I m in mourning deeply 
 in mourning, ladies." 
 
 She drew a kerchief from her dress 
 and feigned bitter tears. 
 
 "A widower!" tittered Lady Hamil 
 ton, heartlessly. "Our united congratu 
 lations, sir." 
 
 The other ladies one by one sobbed
 
 A Merry Tale of a Merry Time 
 
 with affecled sympathy, wiping their eyes 
 tenderly, however, lest they might re 
 move the rich colour from their cheeks. 
 
 " Mesdames," said Nell, reprovingly, 
 " the memory is sacred. Believe me, very 
 sacred." 
 
 She fell apparently once again to weep 
 ing bitterly. 
 
 "The memory is always sacred with 
 men," observed Portsmouth, for the bene 
 fit of her guests, not excepting the Irish 
 youth. " Nay, tell us the name of the fair 
 one who left you so young. My heart 
 goes out to you, dear Beau." 
 
 " Kind hostess," replied Nell, assum 
 ing her tenderest tones, "the name of 
 my departed self is Nell!" 
 
 Hart caught the word. The player 
 was standing near, reflecting on the scene 
 and on the honeyed words of the Duke 
 of Buckingham, who was preparing the 
 way that he might use him. 
 
 "Nell!" he muttered. "Who spoke 
 that name?" 
 
 The hostess too was startled. 
 
 " Nell ! " she exclaimed, with contend- 
 
 [ 2I 9 ]
 
 Mistress Nell 
 
 ing emotions. "Strange! Another cava 
 lier who graces mon bal masque to-night 
 has lost a loved one whose name is Nell. 
 Ah, but she was unworthy of his noble 
 love." 
 
 She spoke pointedly at the masked 
 King, who started perceptibly. 
 
 "Yes," he thought; for his conscience 
 smote him, "unworthy he of her." 
 
 " Unworthy, truly, if he dances so soon 
 and his own Nell dead," added Nell, re 
 flectively, but so that all might hear, 
 more especially Charles. 
 
 "Perchance Nell too thinks so," 
 thought he, as he restlessly walked away, 
 sighing: " I wish I were with her on the 
 terrace." 
 
 " Sdeath, Duchess," continued Nell 
 abruptly, in assumed horror at the sud 
 den thought, "the lady s spirit may visit 
 the ball, to the confusion of us all. Such 
 things have been." 
 
 "The Nell I mean," said Portsmouth, 
 with a confident smile, "will not ven 
 ture here, e en in spirit." 
 
 Nell assumed a baby-innocence efface. 
 [ 220 ]
 
 A Merry Tale of a Merry Time 
 
 " She has not been bidden, I presume? " 
 she queried. 
 
 " The vixen would not stop for asking," 
 declared Portsmouth, almost fiercely. 
 
 "Come without asking?" cried Nell, 
 as if she could not believe that there could 
 be such people upon the earth. " How ill- 
 bred! Thine ear, loved one. My Nell re 
 visits the world again at midnight. The 
 rendezvous St. James s Park." 
 
 Hart brushed close enough to the 
 group, in his biting curiosity, to catch 
 her half-whisper to Portsmouth. He at 
 once sought a window and fresh air, chaf 
 ing with surprise and indignation at what 
 he had overheard. 
 
 "St. James s at midnight," he mut 
 tered. "T is my Nell s abode." 
 
 The Duchess herself stood stunned at 
 what appeared to her a possible revelation 
 of great import. 
 
 "St. James s!" she thought. "Can he 
 mean Madame Gwyn? No, no!" 
 
 The look of suspicion which for an in 
 stant had clouded her face changed to one 
 of merriment, under Adair smagic glance. 
 
 221
 
 Mistress Nell 
 
 " And you would des.ert me for such a 
 fleshless sprite?" she asked. 
 
 "Not so," said Nell, with a winning 
 look; "but, when my better-half returns 
 to life, I surely cannot refuse an interview 
 especially an she come from afar." 
 
 Nell s eyes arose with an expression of 
 sadness, while her finger pointed down- 
 ward in the direction of what she deemed 
 theprobable abode of her departed "Nell." 
 Her lips twitched in merriment, however, 
 despite her efforts to the contrary; and the 
 hostess fell a-laughing. 
 
 "Ladies," she cried, as she appealed to 
 one and all, "is not le Beau a delight 
 so different from ordinary men?" 
 
 "I am not an ordinary man, I assure 
 you," Nell hastened to declare. 
 
 This assertion was acquiesced in by a 
 buzz of pretty compliments from the en 
 tire bevy of ladies. "Positively charm 
 ing!" exclaimed one. "A perfect love!" 
 said another. 
 
 Nell listened resignedly. 
 
 " Sheart," she said, at length, with an 
 air of ennui, "I cannot help it. Tis all 
 [ 222 ]
 
 A Merry Tale of a Merry Time 
 
 part of being a man, you know." 
 
 "Would that all men were like you, 
 le Beau!" sighed the hostess, not forget 
 ting to glance at the King, who again sat 
 disconsolate, in the midst of his attendant 
 courtiers, drawn up, as in line of battle, 
 against the wall. 
 
 "Heaven help us if they were!" slyly 
 suggested Nell. 
 
 Rochester, who had been watching 
 the scene in his mischievous, artistic way, 
 drew from Portsmouth s compliment to 
 Adair another meaning. He was a mix 
 ture twixt a man of arts and letters and 
 Satan s own a man after the King s own 
 heart. Turning to the King, with no de 
 sire to appease the mischief done, he said, 
 banteringly: 
 
 "Egad, there s a rap at you, Sire. 
 France would make you jealous." 
 
 The Duke of Buckingham too, though 
 he appeared asleep, had seen it all. 
 
 "And succeeds, methinks," he re 
 flected, glancing approvingly in the di 
 rection of the Irish youth. "A good 
 ally, i faith." 
 
 [ 223 ]
 
 Mistress Nell 
 
 Nell, indeed, was using all her arts of 
 fascination to ingratiate herself with the 
 Duchess, and making progress, too. 
 
 " Your eyes are glorious, fair hostess," 
 she said, in her most gallant love-tones, 
 "did I not see my rival in them." 
 
 She could not, however, look at Ports 
 mouth for laughter, as she thought: "I 
 believe lying goes with the breeches; I 
 never was so proficient before." 
 
 The compliment aroused the King s 
 sluggish nature. 
 
 "I can endure no more, gallants," cried 
 he, with some pretence of anger, rising 
 abruptly, followed, of course, in each 
 move and grimace by his courtier-apes, 
 in their desire to please. "Are we to be 
 out-done in our own realm by this usurper 
 with a brogue? Ha! The fiddlers! Ma 
 dame, I claim the honour of this fair hand 
 for the dance." 
 
 At the sound of the music, he had 
 stepped gallantly forward, taking the 
 hostess s hand. 
 
 "My thanks, gallant masker," replied 
 the Duchess, pretending not to know 
 
 [ 22 4 ]
 
 A Merry Tale of a Merry Time 
 
 him for flattery s sake, "but I am " 
 
 To her surprise, she had no opportunity 
 to complete the sentence. 
 
 "Engaged! Engaged!" interposed 
 Nell, coming unceremoniously between 
 them, with swaggering assumption and 
 an eye-shot at the King through the por 
 tal of her mask. " Forsooth, some other 
 time, strange sir." 
 
 The hostess stood horrified. 
 
 "Pardon, Sir Masker," she hastened to 
 explain; "but the dance was pledged " 
 
 " No apologies, Duchess," replied the 
 King, as he turned away, carelessly, with 
 the reflection: "All s one to me at this 
 assemblage." 
 
 He crossed the room, turning an instant 
 to look, with ahumorous, quizzical glance, 
 at Portsmouth. Nell mistook the glance 
 for a jealous one and, perking up quickly, 
 caught the royal eye with a challenging 
 eye, tapping her sword-hilt meaningly. 
 Had the masks been off, the situation 
 would have differed. As it was, the King 
 smiled indifferently. The episode did not 
 affecl: him further than to touch his sense 
 [ 225 ]
 
 Mistress Nell 
 
 of humour. Nell turned triumphantly to 
 her partner. 
 
 " Odsbud," she exclaimed, with a de 
 licious, youthful swagger, " we may have 
 to measure swords in your behalf, dear 
 hostess. I trow the fellow loves you." 
 
 "Have a care," whispered the Duch 
 ess, nervously. " It is the King." 
 
 "What care I for a king?" saucily 
 replied Nell, with a finger-snap. She 
 had taken good care, however, to speak 
 very low. " My arm, my arm, Duchess! " 
 she continued, with a gallant step. 
 "Places, places; or the music will out 
 strip us." 
 
 " Strut on, my pretty bantam," thought 
 Buckingham, whose eyes lost little that 
 might be turned to his own advantage; 
 "I like you well." 
 
 There was no mending things at this 
 stage by an apology. The Duchess, there 
 fore, taclfully turned the affair into one 
 of mirth, in which she was quickly joined 
 by her guests. With a merry laugh, she 
 took the Irish gallant s proffered arm, 
 and together they led the dance. The 
 [ 226 ]
 
 A Merry Tale of a Merry Time 
 
 King picked a lady indifferently from 
 among the maskers. 
 
 It was a graceful old English measure. 
 Nell s roguish wits, as well as her feet, 
 kept pace with the music. She assured 
 her partner that she had never loved a 
 woman in all her life before and followed 
 this with a hundred merry jests and sallies, 
 keyed to the merry riddles, so full of blar 
 ney that all were set a-laughing. Anon, 
 the gallants drew their swords and crossed 
 them in the air, while the ladies tiptoed 
 in and out. Nell s blade touched the 
 King s blade. When all was ended the 
 swords saluted with a knightly flourish, 
 then tapped the floor. 
 
 There was an exultant laugh from one 
 and all, and the dance was done. 
 
 Nell hastened to her partner s side. She 
 caught the Duchess s hand and kissed it. 
 
 "You dance divinely, your grace," she 
 said. "A goddess on tiptoe." 
 
 " Oh, Beau Adair ! " replied the Duch 
 ess, courtesying low; and her eyes showed 
 that she was not wholly displeased at the 
 warmth of his youthful adoration. 
 [ 227 ]
 
 Mistress Nell 
 
 "Oh, Duchess!" said Nell, fondly, ac 
 knowledging the salute. 
 
 The Duchess hastened to join his Maj 
 esty and together they threaded their way 
 through many groups. 
 
 Nell tossed her head. 
 
 "How I love her! " she muttered, veil 
 ing the sarcasm under her breath. 
 
 She crossed the great room, her head 
 ere6l. Her confidence was quite restored. 
 This had been the most difficult bit of 
 acling she had ever done; and how well 
 it had been done! 
 
 The other dancers in twos and threes 
 passed from the room in search of quiet 
 corners, in which to whisper nothings. 
 
 Nell s eyes fell upon Strings, who had 
 had a slight turn for the better in the 
 world and who now, in a dress of some 
 what substantial green, was one of the 
 fiddlers at the Duchess s ball. 
 
 " How now, sirrah ! " she said, sharply, 
 as she planted herself firmly before him 
 to his complete surprise. "I knew you 
 were here." 
 
 She placed one of her feet in a devil-
 
 A Merry T ale of a Merry Time 
 
 may-care fashion upon a convenient chair 
 in manly contempt of its upholstery and 
 peeped amusedly through her mask at 
 her old friend. He looked at her in blank 
 amazement. 
 
 "Gads-bobbs," he exclaimed, in con 
 fusion, "the Irish gentleman knows me!" 
 
 "There s nothing like your old fiddle, 
 Strings," continued Nell, still playing 
 with delight upon his consternation. "It 
 fills me with forty dancing devils. If you 
 were to play at my wake, I would pick 
 up my shroud, and dance my way into 
 Paradise." 
 
 "Your I ordship has danced to my fid 
 dling before? " he gasped, in utter amaze 
 ment. 
 
 "Danced!" gleefully cried Nell. "I 
 have followed your bow through a thou 
 sand jigs. To the devil with these court- 
 steps. I m for a jig, jig, jig, jig, jig! Oh, 
 I m for a jig! Tune up, tune up, comrade; 
 and we ll have a touch of the old days 
 at the King s House." 
 
 "The King s House! Jigs! " exclaimed 
 the fiddler, now beside himself. 
 [ 229 ]
 
 Mistress Nell 
 
 "Jigs!" chuckled Nell. "Jigs are my 
 line of business." 
 
 Oranges, will you have my oranges? 
 
 Sweet as love-lips, dearest mine, 
 Picked by Spanish maids divine, 
 
 The room had now quite cleared; and, 
 protected by a friendly alcove, Nell punct 
 uated the old song with a few happily 
 turned jig-steps. Strings looked at her a 
 moment in bewilderment: then his face 
 grew warm with smiles; the mystery was 
 explained. 
 
 "Mistress Nell, as I live," he cried, 
 joyously, "turned boy!" 
 
 " The devil fly away with you, you old 
 idiot! Boy, indeed!" replied Nell, indig 
 nantly. "I m a full-grown widower!" 
 
 She had removed her mask and was 
 dancing about Strings gleefully. 
 
 There was the sound of returning 
 voices. 
 
 "Oons, you will be discovered," ex 
 claimed Strings, cautiously. 
 
 "Marry, I forgot," whispered Nell, 
 glancing over her shoulder. "You may 
 
 [ 230 ]
 
 A Merry Tale of a Merry Time 
 
 have to help me out o this scrape, Strings, 
 before the night is done." 
 
 "You can count on me, Mistress Nell, 
 with life," he replied, earnestly. 
 
 " I believe you ! " said Nell, in her sym 
 pathetic, hearty way. Her mind reverted 
 to the old days when Strings and she were 
 at the King s. " Oh, for just one jig with 
 no petticoats to hinder." 
 
 Nell, despite herself, had fallen into an 
 old-time jig, with much gusto, for her 
 heart was for a frolic always, when Strings 
 seized her arm in consternation, point 
 ing through the archway. 
 
 "The King!" she exclaimed. 
 
 She clapped her mask to her eyes and 
 near tumbled through the nearest arras out 
 of the room in her eagerness to escape, 
 dragging her ever-faithful comrade with 
 her.
 
 CHAPTER XIII 
 
 For the glory of England? 
 
 A HE King entered the room with his 
 historic stride. His brow was clouded; but 
 it was all humorous pretence, for trifles 
 were not wont to weigh heavily upon his 
 Majesty. With him came Portsmouth. 
 
 "Can you forgive me, Sire?" she 
 asked. " I had promised the dance to Beau 
 Adair. I did not know you, Sire; you 
 masked so cleverly." 
 
 " Sdeath, fair flatterer!" replied the 
 King. "I have lived too long to worry 
 o er the freaks of women." 
 
 "The youth knew not to whom he 
 spoke," still pleaded Portsmouth. "His 
 introduction here bespeaks his pardon, 
 Sire." 
 
 The King looked sardonic, but his 
 laugh had a human ring. 
 
 "He is too pretty to kill," he de 
 clared, dramatically. "We ll forgive him 
 
 [ 2 3 2 ]
 
 A Merry Tale of a Merry Time 
 
 for your sake. And now good night." 
 
 "So soon?" asked Portsmouth, anx 
 iously. 
 
 " It is late," he replied. 
 
 "Not while the King is here," she 
 sighed. " Night comes only when he de 
 parts." 
 
 " Your words are sweet," said Charles, 
 thoughtfully observing her. 
 
 She sighed again. 
 
 "My thoughts stumble in your 
 speech," she said. "I regret I have not 
 English blood within my veins." 
 
 "And why?" 
 
 "The King would trust and love me 
 then. He does not now. I am French and 
 powerless to do him good." 
 
 There was a touch of honest sadness 
 in her speech which awakened the King s 
 sympathy. 
 
 " Nay," he said hastily, to comfort her; 
 " tis thy fancy. Thy entertainment hath 
 made me grateful to Louis and Louise." 
 
 "Think not of Louis and Louise," she 
 said, sadly and reproachfully, "but of thy 
 dear self and England s glory. For shame! 
 
 [ 233 ]
 
 Mistress Nell 
 
 Ah, Sire, my childhood-dreams were of 
 sunny France, where I was born; at Ver 
 sailles at Fontainebleau among the 
 monarch trees my early womanhood 
 sighed for love. France gave me all but 
 that. It came not till I saw the English 
 King!" 
 
 The siren of the Nile never looked 
 more bewitchingly beautiful than this 
 siren of France as she half reclined upon 
 the couch, playing upon the King s heart 
 with a bit of memory. His great nature 
 realized her sorrow and encompassed it. 
 
 "And am I not good to thee, child?" 
 he asked. He took her hand and responded 
 to her eyes, though not with the tender 
 ness of love the tenderness for which 
 she sought. 
 
 "You are good to none," she replied, 
 bitterly ; " for you are not good to Charles." 
 
 " You speak enigmas," he said, curious. 
 
 "Have you forgotten your promise? " 
 she asked, naively. 
 
 "Nay; the passport, pretty one?" he 
 answered, amused at the woman s wiles. 
 "All this subterfuge of words for that! 
 
 [ 2 34 ]
 
 A Merry Tale of a Merry Time 
 
 There; rest in peace. Thy friend hath a 
 path to France at will." 
 
 He smiled kindly as he took the pass 
 port from his girdle, handed it to her and 
 turned to take his leave. 
 
 " My thanks are yours. Stay, Sire," she 
 said, hastily; for her mission was not yet 
 complete and the night was now well 
 gone. " Passports are trifles. Will you not 
 leave the Dutch to Louis and his army? 
 Think!" 
 
 She placed her arms about his neck 
 and looked enticingly into his eyes. 
 
 " But," he replied, kindly, " my people 
 demand that I intervene and stay my 
 brother Louis s aggressive hand." 
 
 "Are the people king? " she asked, with 
 coy insinuation. "Do they know best for 
 England s good? Nay, Sire, for your good 
 and theirs, I beseech, no more royal sym 
 pathy for Holland. I speak to avoid en 
 tanglements for King Charles and to make 
 his reign the greater. I love you, Sire." 
 She fell upon her knee. " I speak for the 
 glory of England." 
 
 His Majesty was influenced by her 
 
 [ 235 ]
 
 Mistress Nell 
 
 beauty and her arts, what man would 
 not be? but more by the sense of what 
 she said. 
 
 " For the glory of England?" he asked 
 himself. "True, my people are wrong. 
 Tis better we remain aloof. No wars!" 
 
 He took the seat by the table, which 
 the Duchess offered him, and scanned 
 casually the parchment which she handed 
 to him. 
 
 Nell peered between the curtains. 
 Strings was close behind her. 
 
 "Bouillon s signature for France," 
 mused the King. " Tis well! No more 
 sympathy for the Dutch, Louise, until 
 Holland sends a beauty to our court to 
 outshine France s ambassador." 
 
 He looked at Portsmouth, smiled and 
 signed the instrument, which had been 
 prepared, as he thought, in accordance 
 with his wishes and directions. He then 
 carelessly tossed the sand over the signa 
 ture to blot it. 
 
 The fair Duchess s eyes revealed all the 
 things which all the adjectives of all the 
 lands ever meant. 
 
 [ 236 ]
 
 A Merry Tale of a Merry Time 
 
 "Holland may outshine in beauty, 
 Sire," she said, kneeling by the King s 
 side, "but not in sacrifice and love." She 
 kissed his hand fervently. 
 
 He sat complacently looking into her 
 eyes, scarce mindful of her insinuating 
 arts of love. He was fascinated with her, 
 it is true; but it was with her beauty, flat 
 tery and sophistry, not her heart. 
 
 " I believe thou dost love England and 
 her people s good," he said, finally. "Thy 
 words art wise." 
 
 Portsmouth leaned fondly over his 
 shoulder. 
 
 "One more request," she said, with 
 modest mien, "a very little one, Sire." 
 
 The King laughed buoyantly. 
 
 "Nay, an I stay here," he said, "thy 
 beauty will win my kingdom! What is 
 thy little wish, sweet sovereign?" 
 
 "No more Parliaments in England, 
 Sire," she said, softly. 
 
 "What, woman!" he exclaimed, ris 
 ing, half-aghast, half-humorous, at the 
 suggestion; for he too had an opinion of 
 Parliament. 
 
 [ 237 ]
 
 Mistress Nell 
 
 "To cross the sway of thy great royal 
 state-craft," she continued, quickly fol 
 lowing up the advantage which her 
 woman s wit taught her she had gained. 
 "The people s sufferings from taxation 
 spring from Parliament only, Sire." 
 
 " T is true," agreed Charles, decisively. 
 
 Portsmouth half embraced him. 
 
 "For the people s good, Sire," she 
 urged, "for my sweetest kiss." 
 
 " You are mad," said Charles, yet three- 
 fourths convinced; "my people " 
 
 " Will be richer for my kiss," the Duch 
 ess interrupted, wooingly, "and their 
 King, by divine right and heritage, will 
 rule untrammelled by country clowns, 
 court knaves and foolish lords, who now 
 make up a silly Parliament. With such 
 a King, England will be better with no 
 Parliament to hinder. Think, Sire, think ! " 
 
 "I have thought of this before," said 
 Charles, who had often found Parliament 
 troublesome and, therefore, useless. "The 
 taxes will be less and contention saved." 
 
 "Why hesitate then?" she asked. 
 "This hour s as good for a good deed as 
 any." [
 
 A Merry Tale of a Merry Time 
 
 " For England s sake ? " refleded Charles, 
 inquiringly, as he took the second parch 
 ment from her hands. " Heaven direct my 
 judgment for my people s good. I sign." 
 
 The treaties which Louis XIV. of 
 France had sent the artful beauty to pro 
 cure lay signed upon her desk. 
 
 Nell almost pulled the portieres from 
 their hangings in her excitement. 
 
 " I must see those papers," she thought. 
 "There s no good brewing." 
 
 Portsmouth threw her arms about the 
 King and kissed him passionately. 
 
 "Now, indeed, has England a great 
 King," she said, adding to herself: "And 
 that King Louis s slave!" 
 
 Charles smiled and took his leave. As 
 he passed through the portal, he wiped 
 his lips, good-humouredly muttering: 
 "Portsmouth s kisses and Nell s do not 
 mix well." 
 
 Portsmouth listened for a moment to 
 his departing footsteps, then dropped 
 into the chair by the table and hastily 
 folded and addressed the papers. 
 
 Her mission was ended! 
 [ 239 ]
 
 CHAPTER XIV 
 
 He loves me! He loves me! 
 
 N: 
 
 ELL, half draped in the arras, had 
 seen the kiss in reality bestowed by Ports 
 mouth but as she thought bestowed by the 
 King. As his Majesty departed through 
 the door at the opposite end of the room, 
 the colour came and went in her cheeks. 
 She could scarce breathe. 
 
 Portsmouth sat unconscious of all but 
 her own grand achievement. She had ac 
 complished what shrewd statesmen had 
 failed to bring about; and this would be 
 appreciated, she well knew, by Louis. 
 
 " Sdeath!" muttered Nell to herself, 
 hotly, as, with quite a knightly bearing, 
 she approached the Duchess. " He kisses 
 her before my very eyes! He kisses her! 
 I 11 kill the minx! " She half unsheathed 
 her blade. "Pshaw! No! No! I am too 
 gallant to kill the sex. I 11 do the very 
 manly act and simply break her heart. 
 [ 240 ]
 
 A Merry Tale of a Merry Time 
 
 Aye, that is true bravery in breeches." 
 
 Her manner changed. 
 
 "Your grace!" she said suavely. 
 
 " Yes," answered Portsmouth, her eyes 
 still gleaming triumphantly. 
 
 " It seems you are partial of your fa 
 vours?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 " Such a gift from lips less fair," con 
 tinued Nell, all in wooing vein, "would 
 make a beggar royal." 
 
 The hostess was touched with the 
 phrasing of the compliment. She smiled. 
 
 "You would be pleased to think me 
 fair?" she coyly asked, with the air of 
 one convinced that it could not well be 
 otherwise. 
 
 " Fairer than yon false gallant thinks 
 you," cried Nell, with an angry toss of 
 the head in the direction of the departed 
 King. " Charles s kiss upon her lips? " she 
 thought. "Tis mine, and I will have it." 
 
 In the twinkling of an eye, she threw 
 both arms wildly about the neck of the 
 astonished hostess and kissed her force 
 fully upon the lips. Then, with a ringing 
 
 [ 241 ]
 
 Mistress Nell 
 
 laugh, tinged with triumph, she stepped 
 back, assuming a defiant air. 
 
 The Duchess paled with anger. She rose 
 quickly and, turning on the pretty youth, 
 exclaimed: "Sir, what do you mean?" 
 
 " Tilly-vally ! " replied the naughty 
 Nell, in her most winning way. "A frown 
 upon that alabaster brow, a pout upon 
 those rosy lips; and all for nothing!" 
 
 "Parbleu!" exclaimed the indignant 
 Duchess. " Your impudenceis outrageous, 
 sir ! We will dispense with your company. 
 Good night!" 
 
 "Ods-pitikins!" swaggered Nell, 
 feigning umbrage. "Angry because I 
 kissed you ! You have no right, madame, 
 to be angry." 
 
 "No right?" asked Portsmouth, her 
 feelings tempered by surprise. 
 
 " No right," repeated Nell, firmly. " It 
 is I who should be outraged at your anger." 
 
 "Explain, sir," said the Duchess, 
 haughtily. 
 
 Nell stepped toward the lady, and, as 
 suming her most tender tone, with wist 
 ful, loving eyes, declared:
 
 A Merry Tale of a Merry Time 
 
 " Because your grace can have no ap 
 preciation of what my temptation was to 
 kiss you." 
 
 The Duchess s countenance glowed 
 with delight, despite herself. 
 
 " I faith, was there a temptation? " she 
 asked, quite mollified. 
 
 "An overwhelming passion," cried 
 Nell, following up her advantage. 
 
 "And you were disappointed, sir?" 
 asked Portsmouth suggestively, her vanity 
 falling captive to the sweet cajolery. 
 
 " I only got yon courtier s kiss," sau 
 cily pouted Nell, " so lately bestowed on 
 
 >> 
 you. 
 
 "Do you know whose kiss that was?" 
 inquired the Duchess. 
 
 " It seemed familiar," answered Nell, 
 dryly. 
 
 "The King s," said Portsmouth, 
 proudly. 
 
 "The King s!" cried Nell, opening 
 wide her eyes. "Take back your kiss. I 
 would not have it." 
 
 "Indeed!" said Portsmouth, smiling. 
 
 " Tis too volatile," charged Nell, de- 
 
 [ 2 43 ]
 
 Mistress Nell 
 
 cisively. " Tis here, tis there, tis every 
 where bestowed. Each rosy tavern-wench 
 with a pretty ankle commands it halt. A 
 kiss is the gift of God, the emblem of 
 true love. Take back the King s kiss; I 
 do not wish it." 
 
 " He does not love the King," thought 
 Portsmouth, ever on the lookout for ad 
 vantage. "A possible ally!" 
 
 She turned upon the youth, with hu 
 morous, mocking lip, and said reprov 
 ingly: "A kiss is a kiss the world over, 
 fair sir; and the King s kisses are sacred 
 to Portsmouth s lips." 
 
 "Zounds," replied Nell, with a wicked 
 wink, " not two hours since, he bestowed 
 a kiss on Eleanor Gwyn " 
 
 "Nell Gwyn!" cried the Duchess, in 
 terrupting; and she started violently. 
 
 " With oaths, mountains high," con 
 tinued Nell, with pleasurable harshness, 
 "that his lips were only for her." 
 
 The Duchess stood speechless, quiver 
 ing from top to toe. 
 
 Nell herself swaggered carelessly across 
 the room, muttering mischievously, as 
 
 [ 244 ]
 
 A Merry Tale of a Merry Time 
 
 she watched the Duchess from the corner 
 of her eye: " Methinks that speech went 
 home." 
 
 "He kissed her in your presence?" 
 gasped Portsmouth, anxiously following 
 her. 
 
 " I was not far off, dear Duchess," was 
 the quizzical reply. 
 
 "You saw the kiss?" 
 
 "No," answered Nell, dryly, and she 
 could scarce contain her merriment. "I 
 I felt the shock." 
 
 Before she had finished the sentence, 
 the King appeared in the doorway. His 
 troubled spirit had led him to return, to 
 speak further with the Duchess regarding 
 the purport of the treaties. He had the 
 good of his people at heart, and he was 
 not a little anxious in mind lest he had 
 been over-hasty in signing such weighty 
 articles without a more careful reading. 
 He stopped short as he beheld, to his sur 
 prise, the Irish spark Adair in earnest 
 converse with his hostess. 
 
 " I hate Nell Gwyn," he overheard the 
 Duchess say. 
 
 [245 ]
 
 Mistress Nell 
 
 "Is t possible?" interrogated Nell, 
 with wondering eyes. 
 
 The King caught this utterance as well. 
 
 " In a passion over Nelly? " reflected he. 
 "I d sooner face Cromwell s soldiers at 
 Boscobel! All hail the oak!" 
 
 His Majesty s eye saw with a welcome 
 the spreading branches of the monarch of 
 the forest, outlined on the tapestry; and, 
 with a sigh of relief, he glided quickly 
 behind it and, joining a group of maskers, 
 passed into an anteroom, quite out of 
 ear-shot. 
 
 " Most strange ! " continued Nell, won- 
 deringly. " Nell told me but yesterday 
 that Portsmouth was charming company 
 but a small eater." 
 
 " T is false," cried the Duchess, and her 
 brow clouded at the unpleasant memory 
 of the meeting at Ye Blue Boar. " I never 
 met the swearing orange-wench." 
 
 " Ods-pitikins ! " acquiesced Nell, woe 
 fully. "Nell s oaths are bad enough for 
 men." 
 
 "Masculine creature! "spitefully ejacu 
 lated the Duchess. 
 
 1 246 ]
 
 A Merry Tale of a Merry Time 
 
 "Verily, quite masculine of late," 
 said Nell, demurely, giving a significant 
 tug at her boot-top. 
 
 "A vulgar player," continued the in 
 dignant Duchess, " loves every lover who 
 wears gold lace and tosses coins." 
 
 " Nay ; t is false ! " denied Nell, sharply. 
 
 The Duchess looked up, surprised. 
 
 Nell was all obeisance in an instant. 
 
 " Pardon, dear hostess, a thousand par 
 dons," she prayed; " but I have some rea 
 son to know you misjudge Mistress Nell. 
 With all her myriad faults, she never 
 loved but one." 
 
 "You seem solicitous for her good 
 name, dear Beau ? " suggested Portsmouth, 
 suspiciously. 
 
 " I am solicitous for the name of all good 
 women," promptly explained Nell, who 
 was rarely caught a-napping, "or I would 
 be unworthy of their sex I mean their 
 friendship." 
 
 The Duchess seemed satisfied with the 
 explanation. 
 
 "Dear Beau, what do the cavaliers see 
 in that horrid creature? " archly asked the 
 
 [ 247 ]
 
 Mistress Nell 
 
 Duchess, contemptuous of this liking of 
 the stronger sex. 
 
 " Alack-a-day, we men, you know," 
 replied Nell, boastfully, "well the best 
 of us make mistakes in women." 
 
 "Are you mistaken? " questioned Ports 
 mouth, coyly. 
 
 " What? " laughed Nell, in high amuse 
 ment. " I love Nelly? Nay, Duchess," and 
 her voice grew tender, " I adore but one !" 
 
 "And she?" asked the hostess, encour 
 aging the youth s apparently awakening 
 passion. 
 
 "How can you ask?" said Nell, with 
 a deep sigh, looking adoringly into 
 Portsmouth s eyes and almost embrac 
 ing her. 
 
 "Do you not fear?" inquired Ports 
 mouth, well pleased. 
 
 "Fear what?" questioned Nell. 
 
 "My wrath," said Portsmouth. 
 
 "Nay, more, thy love!" sighed Nell, 
 meaningly, assuming a true lover s de- 
 jecled visage. 
 
 "My love!" cried Portsmouth, curi 
 ously. 
 
 [ 248 ]
 
 A Merry Tale of a Merry Time 
 
 "Aye," again sighed Nell, more deeply 
 still; "for it is hopeless." 
 
 "Try," said the Duchess, almost rest 
 ing her head upon Nell s shoulder. 
 
 " I am doing my best," said Nell, her 
 eyes dancing through wistful lashes, as 
 she embraced in earnest the Duchess s 
 graceful figure and held it close. 
 
 " Do you find it hopeless? " asked Ports 
 mouth, returning the embrace. 
 
 " Until you trust me," replied Nell, 
 sadly. She shook her curls, then fondly 
 pleaded: "Give me the secrets of your 
 brain and heart, and then I 11 know you 
 love me." 
 
 The hostess smiled and withdrew from 
 the embrace. Nell stood the picture of 
 forlorn and hopeless love. 
 
 "Nay," laughed Portsmouth, consol 
 ingly, "they would sink a ship." 
 
 "One would not," still pleaded Nell, 
 determined at all odds to have the packet. 
 
 "One!" The Duchess s eyes fell un 
 consciously upon the papers which she 
 had bewitched from the King and which 
 lay so near her heart. She started first with 
 
 [ 249 ]
 
 Mistress Nell 
 
 fear; and then her countenance assumed a 
 thoughtful cast. 
 
 There was no time now for delay. The 
 papers must be sent immediately. The 
 King might return and retrac~l. Many a 
 battle, she knew, had been lost after it had 
 been won. 
 
 That night, at the Rainbow Tavern, 
 well out of reach of the town, of court 
 spies and gossips, Louis would have a 
 trusted one in waiting. His commission 
 was to receive news from various points 
 and transmit it secretly to France. It was 
 a ride of but a few hours to him. 
 
 She had purposed to send the packet 
 by her messenger in waiting; but he had 
 rendered her suspicious by his speech and 
 aclion in the late afternoon, and she ques 
 tioned whether she would be wise in trust 
 ing him. Nor was she willing to risk her 
 triumph in the hands of Buckingham s 
 courier. It was too dear to her. 
 
 Indeed, she was clever enough to know 
 that state-secrets are often safer in the cus 
 tody of a disinterested stranger than in the 
 hands of a friend, especially if the stranger
 
 A Merry Tale of a Merry Time 
 
 be truly a stranger to the court. 
 
 She glanced quickly in the direction 
 of Nell, who looked the ideal of daring 
 youth, innocent, honest and true to the 
 death. 
 
 "Why not?" she thought quickly, as 
 she reflected again upon Rochet s words, 
 " to be trusted." " Of Irish descent, no love 
 for the King, young, brave, no court ties; 
 none will suspect or stay him." 
 
 Her woman s intuition said "yes." She 
 turned upon Nell and asked, not without 
 agitation in her voice: 
 
 "Can I trust you?" 
 
 Nell s sword was out in an instant, 
 glistening in the light, and so promptly 
 that the Duchess started. Nell saluted, 
 fell upon one knee and said, with all the 
 exuberance of audacious, loving youth: 
 
 " My sword and life are yours." 
 
 Portsmouth looked deeply into Nell s 
 honest eyes. She was convinced. 
 
 "This little packet," said she, in sub 
 dued tones, summoning Nell to her side, 
 " a family matter merely, must reach the 
 Rainbow Tavern, on the Canterbury 
 
 [ 251 ]
 
 Mistress Nell 
 
 Road, by sunrise, where one is waiting. 
 You 11 find his description on the packet." 
 
 Nell sheathed her sword. 
 
 " I know the place and road," she said, 
 earnestly, as she took the papers from the 
 Duchess s hand and placed them carefully 
 in her doublet. 
 
 A rustle of the curtains indicated that 
 some one had returned and was listening 
 by the arras. 
 
 "Hush!" cautioned Portsmouth. "Be 
 true, and you will win my love." 
 
 Nell did not reply, save to the glance 
 that accompanied the words. Snatching 
 her hat from a chair on which she had 
 tossed it, she started eagerly in the direc 
 tion of the great stairs that led to the hall 
 way below, where, an hour since, she had 
 been at first refused admission to the pal 
 ace. Could she but pass again the guards, 
 all would be well; and surely there was 
 now no cause for her detention. Yet her 
 heart beat tumultuously faster even 
 than when she presented herself with 
 Rochet s letter written by herself. 
 
 As she was hastening by the arras,
 
 A Merry Tale of a Merry Time 
 
 her quick eye, however, recognized the 
 King s long plume behind it; and she 
 halted in her course. She was alert with 
 a thousand maddening thoughts crowd 
 ing her brain, all in an instant. 
 
 "The King returned an eaves 
 dropper!" she reflected. "Jealous of 
 Portsmouth; his eyes follow her. Where 
 are his vows to Nell? I ll defame Nell s 
 name, drag her fair honour in the mire; 
 so, Charles, we ll test your manliness and 
 love." 
 
 She recrossed the room quickly to 
 Portsmouth. 
 
 "Madame," she exclaimed, in crisp, 
 nervous tones, loud enough for the King s 
 ear, "I have been deceiving, lying to you. 
 I stood here, praising, honouring Eleanor 
 Gwyn an apple rotten to the core!" 
 
 " How now? " ejaculated Charles, in an 
 undertone. 
 
 His carelessness vanished upon the in 
 stant. Where he had waited for the single 
 ear of Portsmouth, he became at once an 
 earnest listener. 
 
 Nell paused not. 
 
 [ 253 ]
 
 Mistress Nell 
 
 " I had a friend who told me he loved 
 Nell. I loved that friend. God knows I 
 loved him." 
 
 "Yes, yes!" urged Portsmouth, with 
 eagerness. 
 
 "A man of noble name and princely 
 mien," continued Nell, so standing that 
 the words went, like arrows, straight to the 
 King s ear and heart, "a man of honour, 
 who would have died fighting for Nell s 
 honour " 
 
 "Misled youth," muttered Ports 
 mouth. 
 
 Nell seemed not to hear the words. 
 
 " Who, had he heard a murmur of dis 
 approval, a shadow cast upon her name, 
 would have sealed in death the presump 
 tuous lips which uttered it." 
 
 "She betrayed his confidence?" asked 
 Portsmouth, breathlessly. 
 
 "Betrayed and worse!" gesticulated 
 Nell, with the visage of a madman. "A 
 woman base, without a spark of kindli 
 ness an adventuress! This is the picture 
 of that Eleanor Gwyn! Where is a cham 
 pion to take up the gauntlet for such a 
 Nell?" [ 254 ]
 
 A Merry Tale of a Merry Time 
 
 As quick as light, the King threw 
 back the arras and came between them. 
 The Duchess saw him and cried out in 
 surprise. Nell did not turn only caught 
 a chair-top to save herself from falling. 
 
 "Here, thou defamer!" he called, his 
 voice husky with passion. "Thou base 
 purveyor of lies, answer me me, for 
 those words! I am Nell s champion! I ll 
 force you to own your slander a lie." 
 
 The King was terribly in earnest. 
 
 " The guard ! The guard ! " called Ports 
 mouth, faintly, almost overcome by the 
 scene. In her passion that the King so re 
 vealed his love for Nell, she quite forgot 
 that Adair was the bearer of her packet. 
 
 "I want no guard," commanded the 
 King. "An insult to Nell Gwyn is my 
 cause alone." 
 
 Nell was in an elysium of ecstasy. She 
 realized nothing, saw nothing. 
 
 " He loves me ! He loves me ! " her trem 
 bling lips breathed only. " He 11 fight for 
 Nell." 
 
 "Come; draw and defend yourself," 
 angrily cried the King. 
 
 [ 255 ]
 
 Mistress Nell 
 
 Portsmouth screamed and fell upon 
 his arm. 
 
 It is doubtful what the result would 
 otherwise have been. True, Nell oft- 
 times had fenced with the King and 
 knew his wrist, but she was no swords- 
 woman now. Though she took up in her 
 delirium the King s challenge with a wild 
 cry, "Aye, draw and defend yourself!" 
 she realized nothing but his confession 
 of love for Nell. 
 
 The scene was like a great blur before 
 her eyes. 
 
 She rushed upon the King and by 
 him, she scarce knew how. Their swords 
 harmlessly clashed; that was all. 
 
 The cries had been taken up without. 
 
 "The guard ! The guard ! " "Treason ! " 
 "Treason!" 
 
 The air was alive with voices. 
 
 Nell ran up the steps leading to a French 
 window, which opened upon a tiny railed 
 balcony. Below, one story only, lay a soft 
 carpet of greensward, shimmering in the 
 moonlight. With her sword, she struck 
 the frail sash, which instantly yielded. 
 
 [ 256 ]
 
 A Merry Tale of a Merry Time 
 
 Meantime, the room had filled with 
 courtiers, guards and gallants, who had 
 rushed in, sword and spear in hand, to 
 guard the King. 
 
 As the glass shivered and flew wide, 
 under the point of Nell s blade, all eyes 
 turned toward her and all blades quiv 
 ered threateningly in the air. 
 
 Buckingham was first to ascend the 
 steps in pursuit. He was disarmed more 
 through the superiority of Nell s position 
 than through the dexterity of her wrist. 
 
 Then for the first time, she realized 
 her danger. Her eyes staring from their 
 sockets, she drew back from her murder 
 ous pursuers, and, in startled accents, she 
 knew not why, screamed in supplication, 
 with hands uplifted: 
 
 "Gentlemen! Gentlemen!" 
 
 The storm was stayed. All paused to 
 hear what the stranger-youth would say. 
 Would he apologize or would he sur 
 render? 
 
 The suspense was for but a second, 
 though it seemed an eternity to Nell. 
 
 The open window was behind. 
 
 [ 257 ]
 
 Mistress Nell 
 
 With a parting glance at the trem 
 bling blades, she turned quickly and with 
 reckless daring leaped the balcony. 
 
 "T" hell with ye!" was wafted back 
 in a rich brogue defiantly by the night. 
 
 Astonishment and consternation filled 
 the room; but the bird had flown. Some 
 said that the wicked farewell-speech had 
 been Adair s, and some said not. 
 
 How it all happened, no one could 
 tell, unless it was a miracle.
 
 CHAPTER XV 
 
 I come, my love ; I come. 
 
 lonely candle, or to speak more 
 strictly a bit of one, sputtered in its silver 
 socket in the cosy drawing-room; and a 
 single moonbeam found its way in through 
 the draperies of the window leading to the 
 terrace and to St. James s Park. 
 
 Moll lay upon a couch asleep; but it 
 was a restless sleep. 
 
 The voice of a town-crier resounded 
 faintly across the park: "Midnight; and 
 all is well." 
 
 She started up and rubbed her eyes in 
 a bewildered way. 
 
 "The midnight crier!" she thought; 
 and there was a troubled expression in her 
 face. " I have been asleep and the candle s 
 nearly out." 
 
 She jumped to her feet and hastily 
 lighted two or three of its more substan 
 tial mates, of which there was an abun- 
 [ 259 ]
 
 Mistress Nell 
 
 dance in the rich candelabra about the 
 room. 
 
 A cricket in a crevice startled her. She 
 ran to the window and looked anxiously 
 out upon the park, then hastened to the 
 door, with equal anxiety, lest it might 
 be unlocked. Every shadow was to her 
 feverish fancy a spirit of evil or of death. 
 
 "I wish Nell would come," she 
 thought. "The ghosts and skeletons 
 fairly swarm in this old house at mid 
 night; and I am all alone to-night. It s 
 different when Nell s about. The goblins 
 are afraid of her merry laugh. Boo! I am 
 cold all over. I am afraid to stand still, 
 and I am afraid to move." 
 
 She ran again to the window and this 
 time pulled it open. The moonlight in 
 stantly flooded the room, dimming the 
 candles which she had lighted. She saw 
 her shadow, and started back in horror. 
 
 "Some one glided behind the old oak 
 in the park," she cried aloud, for the com 
 pany of her voice. "Oh, oh! Nell will be 
 murdered ! I begged her not to go to Ports 
 mouth s ball. She said she just wanted to 
 [ 260 ]
 
 A Merry Tale of a Merry Time 
 
 peep in and pay her respects to the host 
 ess. Moll! You better pray." 
 
 She fell upon her knees and reverently 
 lifted her hands and eyes in prayer. 
 
 Something fell in the room with aheavy 
 thud. She shut her eyes tight and prayed 
 harder. The object of her fear was a long 
 gray boot, which had been thrown in at 
 the window and had fallen harmlessly 
 by her side. It was followed in an instant 
 by its mate, equally harmless yet equally 
 dreadful. 
 
 A jaunty figure, assisted by a friendly 
 shoulder, then bounded over the balus 
 trade and rested with a sigh of relief just 
 within the window-opening. It was Nell, 
 returning from the wars; she was pale, 
 almost death-like. The evening s excite 
 ment, her daring escapade and more es 
 pecially its exciting finish had taken hold 
 of her in earnest. Her dainty little self 
 was paying the penalty. She was all of a 
 tremble. 
 
 " Safe home at last! " she cried wearily. 
 " Heaven reward you, Strings." 
 
 From below the terrace, without the 
 
 [ 261 ]
 
 Mistress Nell 
 
 window, responded the fiddler, in sympa 
 thetic, loving tones: "Good night, Mis 
 tress Nell; and good sleep." 
 
 " Good night, comrade," answered 
 Nell, as she almost fell into the room, 
 calling faintly: "Moll! Moll! What are 
 you doing, Moll?" 
 
 Moll closed her eyes tighter and prayed 
 still more fervently. 
 
 " Praying for Nell," her trembling lips 
 mechanically replied. 
 
 "Humph!" cried Nell, half faint 
 ing, throwing herself upon the couch. 
 "There s no spirit in this flesh worth 
 praying for. Some wine, some wine; and 
 the blessing after." 
 
 The command brought Moll to her 
 senses and she realized that it was really 
 Nell who had entered thus unceremoni 
 ously. She rushed to her for safety, like 
 a frightened deer to the lake. 
 
 "Nell, dear Nell!" she cried. "You 
 are ill." 
 
 "Wine, wine, I say," again fell in per 
 emptory tones from the half-reclining 
 Nell. 
 
 [ 262 ]
 
 A Merry Tale of a Merry Time 
 
 Moll glanced in dismay at her boot 
 less mistress: her garments all awry; her 
 sword ill sheathed; her cloak uncaught 
 from the shoulder and half used, petti 
 coat-like, as a covering for her trembling 
 limbs; her hair dishevelled; her cheeks 
 pale; her wild eyes, excitement-strained, 
 staring from their sockets. 
 
 "You are wounded; you are going to 
 die," she cried. "Moll will be all alone 
 in the world again." 
 
 Her hands shook more than Nell s as 
 she filled a glass half full of wine and 
 passed it to her mistress. 
 
 "To the brim, girl, to the brim," com 
 manded Nell, reviving at the prospect of 
 the draught. "There!" 
 
 She tossed off the drink in gallant 
 fashion: " I tell you, sweetheart, we men 
 need lots of stimulating." 
 
 "You are all of a tremble," continued 
 Moll. 
 
 " Little wonder ! " sighed Nell. " These 
 braveries are a trifle chilly, sweet mouse. 
 Boo!" She laughed hysterically, while 
 Moll closed the window. "You see, I 
 
 [ 263 ]
 
 Mistress Nell 
 
 never was a man before, and I had all that 
 lost time to make up acres of oats to 
 scatter in one little night. Open my 
 throat; I cannot breathe. Take off my 
 sword. The wars are done, I hope." She 
 startled Moll, who was encasing her 
 mistress s pretty feet in a pair of dainty 
 shoes, with another wild, hilarious laugh. 
 " Moll," she continued, "I was the gayest 
 mad-cap there. The sex were wild for me. 
 I knew their weak points of attack, lass. 
 If I had been seeking a mate, I could have 
 made my market of them all and started 
 a harem." 
 
 She seemed to forget all her dangers 
 past in the recollection. 
 
 "Wicked girl," said Moll, pouting re 
 provingly. 
 
 " Oh, I am a jolly roisterer, little one," 
 laughed Nell, in reply, as with cavalier- 
 strides she crossed the room. She threw 
 herself upon the table and proceeded to 
 boast of her doings for Moll s benefit, 
 swinging her feet meanwhile. " I ran the 
 gamut. I had all the paces of the truest 
 cavalier. I could tread a measure, swear 
 
 [ 264]
 
 A Merry "Tale of a Merry Time 
 
 like one from the wars, crook my elbow, 
 lie, gamble, fight Fight? Did I say 
 fight?" 
 
 She hid her curly head in her hands 
 and sobbed spasmodically. 
 
 " You have been in danger ! " exclaimed 
 Moll, fearfully. 
 
 "Danger!" repeated Nell, breaking 
 out afresh. "I taught the King a lesson 
 he will dream about, my sweet, though 
 it near cost me my life. He loves me, d ye 
 hear; he loves me, pretty one! Dance, 
 Moll, dance Dance, I say! I could fly 
 for very joy!" 
 
 With the tears still wet upon her 
 cheeks, she seized Moll by both hands 
 and whirled the astonished girl wildly 
 about the room, until she herself reeled 
 for want of breath. Then, catching at a 
 great carved oaken chair, she fell into it 
 and cried and laughed alternately. 
 
 "Nell, Nell," gasped Moll, as she too 
 struggled for breath; "one minute you 
 laugh and then you cry. Have you lost 
 your wits?" 
 
 " I only know," exulted Nell, " I made 
 [ 265 ]
 
 Mistress Nell 
 
 him swear his love for Nell to Ports 
 mouth s face. I made him draw his sword 
 for Nell." 
 
 "Great Heavens!" exclaimed Moll, 
 aghast. "You did not draw yourself? A 
 sword against the King is treason." 
 
 " Ods-bodikins, I know not ! " answered 
 Nell. " I know not what I did or said. I 
 was mad, mad! All I remember is: there 
 was a big noise a million spears and 
 blunderbusses turned upon poor me! Gad! 
 I made a pretty target, girl." 
 
 "A million spears and blunderbusses!" 
 echoed Moll, her eyes like saucers. 
 
 " An army, child, an army ! " continued 
 Nell, in half-frantic accents. "I did not 
 stop to count them. Then, next I knew, 
 I was in my coach, with dear old Strings 
 beside me. The horses flew. We alighted 
 at the Chapel, tiptoed about several cor 
 ners to break the scent; then I took off 
 my shoes and stole up the back way like 
 a good and faithful husband. Oh, I did 
 the whole thing in cavalier-style, sweet 
 heart. But, twixt us, Moll," and she spoke 
 with a mysterious, confidential air," I 
 [ 266 ]
 
 A Merry Tale of a Merry Time 
 
 wouldn t have it go further for worlds 
 Adair is a coward, a monstrous cow 
 ard! He ran!" 
 
 As if to prove the truth of her words, 
 at a sudden, sharp, shrill sound from the 
 direction of the park, the sad remnant of 
 Adair clutched Moll frantically ; and both 
 girls huddled together with startled faces 
 and bated breaths. 
 
 "Hark! What is that?" whispered 
 Nell. 
 
 "The men, perchance, I told you of," 
 answered Moll ; " they ve spied about the 
 house for weeks." 
 
 "Nonsense, you little goose," remon 
 strated Nell, though none too bravely; 
 "some of your ex-lovers nailing their 
 bleeding hearts to the trees." 
 
 " No, no ; listen ! " exclaimed Moll, fran 
 tically, as the noise grew louder. " They re 
 in the entry." 
 
 "In the entry!" stammered Nell; and 
 she almost collapsed at the thought of 
 more adventures. " I wish we were in bed, 
 with our heads under the sheet." 
 
 " Here is your sword," said Moll, as she 
 
 [ 267 ]
 
 Mistress Nell 
 
 brought Nell the sharp weapon, held well 
 at arm s length for fear of it. 
 
 " Oh, yes, my sword ! " exclaimed Nell, 
 perking up for an instant only. "I never 
 thought of my sword; and this is one of 
 the bravest swords I ever drew. I am as 
 weak as a woman, Moll." 
 
 "Take heart," said Moll, encouraging 
 her from the rear, as Nell brandished the 
 glittering blade in the direction of the 
 door. " You know you faced an army to 
 night." 
 
 "True," replied Nell, her courage ooz 
 ing out at her finger-tips, "but then I was a 
 man, and had to seem brave, whether I was 
 or no. Who s there?" she called faintly. 
 "Who s there? Support me, Moll. Beau 
 Adair is on his last legs." 
 
 Both stood listening intently and trem 
 bling from top to toe. 
 
 A score of rich voices, singing harmo 
 niously, broke upon the night. 
 
 The startled expression on Nell s face 
 changed instantly to one of fearless, rogu 
 ish merriment. She was her old self again. 
 She tossed the sword contemptuously 
 
 268
 
 A Merry Tale of a Merry Time 
 
 upon the floor, laughing in derision now 
 at her companion s fear. 
 
 "A serenade! A serenade!" she cried. 
 "Moll Why, Moll, whatfearedye,lass? 
 Come! " She ran gaily to the window and 
 peeped out. " Oh, ho, masqueraders from 
 the moon. Some merry crew, I ll be 
 bound. I am generous. I ll give thee all 
 but one, sweet mouse. The tall knight in 
 white for me ! I know he s gallant, though 
 his vizor s down. Marry, he is their cap 
 tain, I trow; and none but a captain of 
 men shall be captain of my little heart." 
 
 " It is Satan and his imps," cried Moll, 
 attempting to draw Nell from the win 
 dow. 
 
 "Tush, little one," laughed Nell, re 
 provingly. " Satan is my warmest friend. 
 Besides, they cannot cross the moat. The 
 ramparts are ours. The draw-bridge is up." 
 
 In a merry mood, she threw a piece of 
 drapery, mantle-like, about Adair s shoul 
 ders, quite hiding them, and, decapitating 
 a grim old suit of armour, placed the hel 
 met on her head. Thus garbed, she threw 
 the window quickly open and stepped 
 
 [ 269 j
 
 Mistress Nell 
 
 boldly upon the ledge, within full view 
 of the band beneath. As the moonlight 
 gleamed upon her helmet, one might 
 have fancied her a goodly knight of yore; 
 and, indeed, she looked quite formidable. 
 
 "Nell, what are you doing?" called 
 Moll, wildly, from a point of safety. 
 "They can see and shoot you." 
 
 " Tilly-vally, girl," replied Nell, un 
 daunted now that she could see that there 
 was no danger, "we ll parley with the 
 enemy in true feudal style. We ll teach 
 them we have a man about the house. Ho, 
 there, strangers of the night breakers of 
 the King s peace and the slumbers of the 
 righteous! Brawlers, knaves; would ye 
 raise honest men from their beds at such 
 an hour? What means this jargon of tipsy 
 voices? What want ye?" 
 
 A chorus of throats without demanded, 
 in muffled accents: "Drink!" "Drink!" 
 "Sack!" "Rhenish!" 
 
 "Do ye think this a tavern, knaves?" 
 responded Nell, in a husky, mannish 
 voice. "Do ye think this a vintner s? 
 There are no topers here. Jackanapes, 
 
 [ 2 7 ]
 
 A Merry T ale of a Merry Time 
 
 revellers; away with you, or we ll rouse 
 the citadel and train the guns." 
 
 Her retort was met with boisterous 
 laughter and mocking cries of " Down 
 with the doors ! " " Break inthe windows ! " 
 
 This was a move Nell had not antici 
 pated. She jumped from the ledge, or 
 rather tumbled into the room, nervously 
 dropping her disguise upon the floor. 
 
 " Heaven preserve us," she said to Moll, 
 with quite another complexion in her 
 tone, "they are coming in! Oh, Moll, 
 Moll, I did not think they would dare." 
 
 Moll closed the sashes and bolted 
 them, then hugged Nell close. 
 
 "Ho, there, within!" came, in a gut 
 tural voice, now from without the door. 
 
 " Yes ? " Nell tried to say ; but the word 
 scarce went beyond her lips. 
 
 Again in guttural tones came a second 
 summons "Nell! Nell!" 
 
 Nell turned to Moll for support and 
 courage, whispering : " Some arrant knave 
 calls Nell at this hour." Then, assuming 
 an attitude of bravery, with fluttering 
 heart, she answered, as best she could,
 
 Mistress Nell 
 
 in a forced voice: "Nell s in bed!" 
 
 "Yes, Nell s in bed," echoed the con 
 stant Moll. "Everybody s in bed. Call 
 to-morrow!" 
 
 " No trifling, wench ! " commanded the 
 voice without, angrily. "Down with the 
 door!" 
 
 "Stand close, Moll," entreated Nell, 
 as she answered the would-be intruder 
 with the question: 
 
 "Who are ye? Who are ye?" 
 
 "Old Rowley himself!" replied the 
 guttural voice. 
 
 This was followed by hoarse laughter 
 from many throats. 
 
 "The King as I thought!" whis 
 pered Nell. "Good lack; what shall I do 
 with Adair? Plague on t, he ll be mad 
 if I keep him waiting, and madder if I 
 let him in. Where are your wits, Moll? 
 Run for my gown; fly fly!" 
 
 Moll hastened to do the bidding. 
 
 Nell rushed to the entry-door, in fran 
 tic agitation. 
 
 "The bolt sticks, Sire," she called, pre 
 tending to struggle with the door, hoping
 
 A Merry Tale of a Merry Time 
 
 so to stay his Majesty until she should 
 have time to dispose of poor Adair. " How 
 can I get out of these braveries? " she then 
 asked herself, tugging awkwardly at one 
 part of the male attire and then at another. 
 " I don t know which end of me to begin 
 on first." 
 
 Moll re-entered the room with a bun 
 dle of pink in her arms, which turned 
 out to be a flowing, silken robe, trimmed 
 with lace. 
 
 " Here is the first I found," she said 
 breathlessly. 
 
 Nell motioned to her nervously to put 
 it upon the couch. 
 
 " Help me out of this coat," she pleaded 
 woefully. 
 
 Moll tookofFthe coat and then assisted 
 Nell to circumscribe with the gown, from 
 heels to head, her stunning figure, neatly 
 encased in Adair s habit, which now con 
 sisted only of a jaunty shirt of white, gray 
 breeches, shoes and stockings. 
 
 " Marry, I would I were a fairy with 
 a magic wand; I could befuddle men s 
 eyes easier," Nell lamented. 
 [ 273 ]
 
 Mistress Nell 
 
 The King knocked again upon the door 
 sharply. 
 
 "Patience, my liege," entreated Nell, 
 drawing her gown close about her and 
 muttering with personal satisfaction: 
 "There, there; that hides a multitude of 
 sins. The girdle, the girdle! Adair will 
 not escape from this if we can but keep 
 him quiet; the rogue has a woman s 
 tongue, and it will out, I fear." 
 
 She snatched up a mirror and arranged 
 her hair as best she could in the dim light, 
 with the cries without resounding in her 
 ears and with Moll dancing anxiously 
 about her. 
 
 "Down with the door," threatened 
 the King, impatiently. "The ram; the 
 battering ram." 
 
 " I come, my love; I come," cried Nell, 
 in agitation, fairly running to the door 
 to open it, but stopping aghast as her eye 
 caught over her shoulder the sad, tell 
 tale condition of the room. 
 
 " Sdeath," she called in a stage-whis 
 per to Moll; "under the couch with 
 Adair s coat! Patience, Sire," she be- 
 
 [ 274 ]
 
 A Merry Tale of a Merry Time 
 
 sought in turn the King. "Help me, 
 Moll. How this lock has rusted in the 
 last few minutes. My sword!" she con 
 tinued breathlessly to Moll. "My boots! 
 My hat! My cloak!" 
 
 Moll, in her efforts to make the room 
 presentable, was rushing hither and 
 thither, first throwing Adair s coat be 
 neath the couch as Nell commanded and 
 firing the other evidences of his guilty 
 presence, one behind one door and an 
 other behind another. 
 
 It was done. 
 
 Nell slipped the bolt and calmly took 
 a stand in the centre of the room, draw 
 ing her flowing gown close about Adair s 
 person. She was quite exhausted from the 
 nervous strain, but her aclress s art taught 
 her the way to hide it. Moll, panting for 
 breath, across the room, feigned compo 
 sure as best she could. 
 
 The door opened and in strode the King 
 and his followers. 
 
 " Welcome, royal comrades, welcome 
 all!" said Nell, bowing graciously to her 
 untimely visitors. 
 
 [ 2/5 ]
 
 CHAPTER XVI 
 
 ) my own reflection! 
 
 U: 
 
 PON the fine face of the King, as he 
 entered Nell s drawing-room, was an ex 
 pression of nervous bantering, not wholly 
 unmixed with anxiety. 
 
 The slanderous Adair and his almost 
 miraculous escape had not long weighed 
 upon his Majesty s careless nature. 
 
 As he had not met Adair until that 
 night or even heard of him, his heart had 
 told him that the Irish roisterer could 
 scarcely be a serious obstacle in the way of 
 Nell s perfect faith, if, indeed, he had met 
 Nell at all, which he doubted. His com 
 mand to the guard to follow and overtake 
 the youth had been more the command 
 of the ruler than of the man. Despite him 
 self, there had been something about the 
 dainty peacock he could not help but like; 
 and the bold dash for the window, the dis 
 arming of the purse-proud Buckingham, 
 
 [ 276 ]
 
 A Merry Tale of a Merry Time 
 
 who for many reasons displeased him, and 
 the leap to the sward below, with the ac 
 companying farewell, had especially de 
 lighted both his manhood and his sense 
 of humour. 
 
 He had, therefore, dismissed Adair from 
 his mind, except as a possible subje6t to 
 banter Nell withal, or as a culprit to pun 
 ish, if overtaken. 
 
 His restless spirit had chafed under the 
 Duchess s lavish entertainment for the 
 best entertainment is dull to the lover 
 whose sweetheart is absent and he had 
 turned instinctively from the ball to Nell s 
 terrace, regardless of the hour and scarce 
 noticing his constant attendants. 
 
 The night was so beautiful that their 
 souls had found vent in song. 
 
 This serenade, however, had brought 
 to Nell s window a wide-awake fellow, 
 who had revealed himself in saucy talk; 
 and the delighted cavaliers, in hope of 
 fun, had charged jeeringly that they had 
 outwitted the guard and had found Adair. 
 
 It was this that had brought the anxious 
 look to the King s face; and, though his 
 [ 277 ]
 
 Mistress Nell 
 
 better judgment was still unchanged, the 
 sight of the knave at the window, to 
 gether with the suggestions of his merry 
 followers, had cast a shadow of doubt for 
 the moment upon his soul, and he had re 
 flected that there was much that the Irish 
 youth had said that could not be recon 
 ciled with that better judgment. 
 
 With a careless shrug, he had, there 
 fore, taken up the jest of his lawless crew, 
 which coincided with his own intended 
 purpose, and had sworn that he would 
 turn the household out of bed without 
 regard to pretty protests or formality of 
 warrant. He would raise the question 
 forthwith, in jest and earnest, and worry 
 Nell about the boaster. 
 
 "Scurvy entertainment," he began, 
 with frowning brow. 
 
 "Yea, my liege," explained Nell, win- 
 somely; "you see I did not expect the 
 King so late, and so was unpresentable." 
 
 " It is the one you do not expe6t," re 
 plied Charles, dryly, "who always causes 
 the trouble, Nell." 
 
 " We were in bed, Sire," threw in Moll, 
 
 [ 278 ]
 
 A Merry Tale of a Merry Time 
 
 thinking to come to the rescue of her 
 mistress. 
 
 "Marry, truly," said Nell, catching at 
 the cue, " asleep, Sire, sound asleep ; and 
 our prayers said." 
 
 "Tilly-vally," exclaimed the King, 
 "we might credit thy tongue, wench, but 
 for the prayers. No digressions, spider 
 Nell. My sword is in a fighting mood. 
 Sdeath, call forth the knight-errant who 
 holds thy errant heart secure for one short 
 hour!" 
 
 " The knight of my heart ! " cried Nell. 
 "Ah, Sire, you know his name." 
 
 She looked at his Majesty with eyes of 
 unfailing love; but the King was true to 
 his jest. 
 
 "Yea, marry, I do/ laughed Charles, 
 tauntingly, with a wink at his compan 
 ions; "a pretty piece of heraldry, a bold 
 escutcheon, a dainty poniard pale as a 
 lily, and how he did sigh and drop his 
 lids and smirk and smirk and dance your 
 latest galliard to surpass De Grammont. 
 Ask brother James how he did dance." 
 
 "Nay, Sire," hastily interceded the 
 
 [ 279 ]
 
 Mistress Nell 
 
 ever-gallant Rochester, "his Highness of 
 York has suffered enough." 
 
 York frowned at the reference; for he 
 had been robbed of his lady at the dance 
 by Adair. He could not forget that. Heed 
 less of his royalty, bestowed by man, she, 
 like the others, had followed in the train 
 of the Irish spark, who was royal only by 
 nature. 
 
 "Hang the coxcomb!" he snarled. 
 
 " Slife, I will," replied Charles, slyly, 
 "an you overtake him, brother." 
 
 " His back was shapely, Sire," observed 
 Rochester, with quaint humour. 
 
 "Yea, and his heels!" cried the King, 
 reflectively. "He had such dainty heels 
 Mercury s wings attached, to waft him 
 on his way." 
 
 "This is moonshine madness!" ex 
 claimed Nell, with the blandest of bland 
 smiles. "There s none such here. By my 
 troth, I would there were. Nay, ask 
 Moll." 
 
 Moll did not wait to be asked. 
 
 " Not one visitor to-night," she asserted 
 promptly.
 
 A Merry Tale of a Merry 
 
 "Odso!" cried Charles, in a mocking 
 tone. "Whence came the Jack at the 
 window the brave young challenger _ 
 Would ye raise honest men from their 
 beds at such an hour?" 
 
 A burst of laughter followed the King s 
 grave imitation of the window-boaster. 
 
 " Sire ! " sighed Rochester, in like spirit. 
 " Do you think this a vintner s? There 
 are no topers here." 
 
 Another burst ofmerry laughter greeted 
 the speaker, as he puncluated his words 
 by catching up the wine-cups from the 
 table and clinking them gaily. 
 
 Nell s face was as solemn as a funeral. 
 
 "To your knees, minx," commanded 
 James, grimly, "and crave mercy of your 
 prince." 
 
 "Faith and troth," pleaded Nell, seri 
 ously, " twas I myself with helmet and 
 mantle on. You see, Sire, my menials were 
 guests at Portsmouth s ball to lend re 
 spectability." 
 
 " Saucy wag," cried the Merry Mon 
 arch. "A ball? A battle which would 
 have killed thee straight! " 
 
 [ 281 ]
 
 Mistress Nell 
 
 " It had liked to," reflected Nell, as she 
 tartly replied: "A war of the sex with 
 out me? It was stupid, then. The Duch 
 ess missed me, I trow." 
 
 " Never fear," answered Charles, with 
 difficulty suppressing his mirth; "you 
 were bravely championed." 
 
 "I am sure of that," said Nell, slyly; 
 "my King was there." 
 
 "And a bantam cock," ejaculated 
 Charles, sarcastically, "upon whose lips 
 4 Nell hung familiarly." 
 
 "Some strange gallant," cried Nell, 
 in ecstasy, "took my part before them 
 all? Who was he, Sire? Don t tantalize 
 me so." 
 
 She smiled, half serious, half humor 
 ous, as she pleaded in her charming way. 
 
 "A chip from the Blarney Stone," ob 
 served the King at length, ironically, 
 "surnamed Adair!" 
 
 "Adair! Adair!" cried Nell, to the 
 astonishment of all. " We spent our youth 
 together. I see him in my mind s eye, 
 Sire, throw down the gauntlet in Nell s 
 name and defy the world for her. Fill the 
 
 [ 282 ]
 
 A Merry Tale of a Merry Time 
 
 cups. We ll drink to my new-found hero! 
 Fill ! Fill ! To Beau Adair, as you love me, 
 gallants! Long life to Adair!" 
 
 The cups were filled to overflowing 
 and trembled on eager lips in response 
 to the hostess s merry toast. 
 
 " Stay ! " commanded the King, in per 
 emptory tones. " Not a drop to a coward ! " 
 
 " A coward !" cried Nell, aghast. "Adair 
 a coward? I ll never credit it, Sire!" 
 
 She turned away, lest she reveal her 
 merriment, as she bethought her: "He 
 is trembling in my boots now. I can feel 
 him shake." 
 
 "Our pledge is Nell, Nell only!" ex 
 claimed the King, his cup high in air. 
 
 With one accord, the gallants eagerly 
 took up the royal pledge. "Aye, aye, 
 Nell!" "Nell!" "We ll drink to Nell!" 
 
 " You do me honour, royal gentlemen," 
 bowed Nell, well pleased at the King s 
 toast. 
 
 She had scarce touched the cup to her 
 lips, however, with a mental chuckle, 
 "Poor Adair! Here s a health to the in 
 ner man! " when her eye fell upon one of 
 
 [ 283 ]
 
 Mistress Nell 
 
 Adair s gray boots, which Moll had failed 
 to hide, in her excitement, now revealing 
 itself quite plainly in the light of the 
 many candles. She caught it adroitly on 
 the tip of her toe and sent it whizzing 
 through the air in the direction of poor 
 Moll, who, fortunately, caught it in mid 
 air and hid it quickly beneath her apron. 
 
 The King turned at the sound; but 
 Nell s face was as woefully unconcerned 
 as a church-warden s at his hundredth 
 burial. 
 
 The wine added further zest to the 
 merry-making and the desire for sport. 
 
 "Now, fair huswife," continued 
 Charles, his thoughts reverting to Adair, 
 "set forth the dish, that we may carve it 
 to our liking. Tis a dainty bit, lace, 
 velvet and ruffles." 
 
 " Heyday, Sire," responded Nell, eva 
 sively, "the larder s empty." 
 
 "Devil on t," cried Charles, fero 
 ciously;" no mincing, wench. In the con 
 fusion of the ball, the bird escaped my 
 guard by magic. We know whither the 
 flight." 
 
 [ 284]
 
 A Merry Tale of a Merry Time 
 
 The King assumed a knowing look. 
 
 "Escaped the guard?" gasped Nell, in 
 great surprise. " Alas, I trow some petti 
 coat has hid him then." 
 
 "I ll stake my life upon t," observed 
 James, who had not been heard from in 
 some time but who had been observing 
 the scene with decorous dignity. 
 
 "Sire, you would not injure Adair," 
 pleaded Nell, now alert, with all her arts 
 of fascination. "You are too generous. 
 Blue eyes of heaven, and such a smile! 
 Did you mark that young Irishman s 
 smile, Sire?" 
 
 Her impudence was so bewitching that 
 the King scarce knew whether it were 
 jest or earnest. He sprang to his feet from 
 the couch, where he had thrown himself 
 after the toast to Nell, and, with some 
 forcefulness, exclaimed: 
 
 "Odsfish, this to my teeth, rogue! 
 Guard the doors, gallants; we d gaze 
 upon this paragon." 
 
 "And set him pirouetting, Sire," sar 
 donically suggested James. 
 
 " Yea, to the tune of these fiddle-sticks," 
 
 [ 285 ]
 
 Mistress Nell 
 
 laughed Charles, as he unsheathed his ra 
 pier. " Search from tile to rafter." 
 
 "Aye, aye," echoed the omnipresent 
 Rochester, "from cellar to garret." 
 
 Before, however, the command could 
 be obeyed, even in resolution, Nell 
 moved uneasily to a curtain which hung 
 in the corner of the room and placed her 
 self before it, as if to shield a hidden man. 
 
 " Sire," she pleaded fearfully, " spare 
 him, Sire; for my sake, Sire. He is not to 
 blame for loving me. He cannot help it. 
 You know that, Sire!" 
 
 "Can he really be here?" muttered 
 Charles, with clouding visage. " Saucy 
 wench! Hey! My blood is charging full- 
 tilt through my veins. Odsfish, we ll try 
 his mettle once again." 
 
 "Prythee, Sire," begged Nell, "he is 
 too noble and brave and handsome to die. 
 I love his very image." 
 
 "Oh, ho!" cried Charles. "A silken 
 blind for the silken bird ! Hey, St. George 
 for merry England! Come forth, thou 
 picture of cowardice, thou vile slanderer." 
 
 He grasped Nell by the wrist and fairly 
 
 [ 286 ]
 
 A Merry Tale of a Merry Time 
 
 dragged her across the room. Then, rush 
 ing to the curtain, he seized its silken 
 folds and tore it completely from its hang 
 ings only to face himself in a large mir 
 ror. " Ods-pitikins, my own reflection ! " he 
 exclaimed, with menacing tone, though 
 there was relief as well in his voice. He 
 bent the point of his blade against the 
 floor, gazed at himself in the pier-glass 
 and looked over his shoulder at Nell, who 
 stood in the midst of his courtiers, split 
 ting her sides with laughter, undignified 
 but honest. 
 
 "Rogue, rogue," he cried, "I should 
 turn the point on thee for this trick; but 
 England would be worse than a Puritan 
 funeral with no Nell. Thou shalt suffer 
 anon." 
 
 " I defy thee, Sire, and all thy imps of 
 Satan," laughed the vixen, as she watched 
 the King sheathe his jewelled sword. 
 "Cast Nell in the blackest dungeon, 
 Adair is her fellow-prisoner; outlaw Nell, 
 Adair is her brother outlaw; off with 
 Nell s head, off rolls Adair s. Who else 
 can boast so true a love!" 
 
 [ 287 ]
 
 Mistress Nell 
 
 "Thou shalt be banished the realm," 
 decided the King, jestingly; for he was 
 now convinced that her Adair was but 
 a jest to tease him a Roland for his 
 Oliver. 
 
 "Banished!" cried Nell, with bated 
 breath. 
 
 "Aye; beyond sea, witch!" answered 
 the King, with pompous austerity. "Vir 
 ginia shall be thy home." 
 
 "Good, good!" laughed Nell, gaily. 
 " Sire, the men grow handsome in Vir 
 ginia, and dauntless; and they tell me 
 there are a dearth of women there. Oh, 
 banish me at once to What s the name? " 
 
 "Jamestown," suggested York, recall 
 ing the one name because of its familiar 
 sound. 
 
 "Yea, brother James," said Nell, fear 
 lessly mimicking his brusque accent, 
 "Jamestown." 
 
 "Savages, wild men, cannibals," 
 scowled Charles. 
 
 "Cannibals!" cried Nell. "Marry, I 
 should love to be a cannibal. Are there 
 cannibals in Jamestown, brother James?
 
 A Merry Tale of a Merry Time 
 
 Banish me, Sire; banish me to James 
 town of all places. Up with the sails, my 
 merry men; give me the helm! Adair 
 will sail in the same good ship, I trow." 
 
 " Adair ! I trow thou wert best at home, 
 cannibal Nelly," determined the King. 
 
 "Then set all the men in Britain to 
 watch me, Sire," said Nell; "for, from 
 now on, I 11 need it." 
 
 The King shook his finger warningly 
 at her, then leaned carelessly against the 
 window. 
 
 " Ho there ! " he cried out suddenly. " A 
 night disturbance, a drunken brawl, be 
 neath our very ears! Fellow-saints, what 
 mean my subjects from their beds this 
 hour of night? Their sovereign does the 
 revelling for the realm. James, Rochester 
 and all, see to t!"
 
 CHAPTER XVII 
 
 The day will be so happy ; for Pve seen you at the dawn. 
 
 JL. HE room was quickly cleared, the 
 King s courtiers jostling one another in 
 their efforts to carry out the royal bid 
 ding. 
 
 Charles turned with a merry laugh and 
 seized Nell in his arms almost fiercely. 
 
 "A subterfuge!" he cried eagerly. 
 "Nell, quick; one kiss!" 
 
 "Nay; you question my constancy to 
 night," said Nell, sadly, as she looked into 
 his eyes, with the look of perfect love. 
 "You do not trust me." 
 
 " I do, sweet Nell," protested the King, 
 earnestly. 
 
 "You bring me Portsmouth s lips," 
 said Nell, with sad reproof. 
 
 " I left her dance for you," replied the 
 King, drawing her closer to him. 
 
 "At near sunrise, Sire," sighed Nell, 
 reprovingly, as she drew back the curtain 
 [ 290 ]
 
 A Merry Tale of a Merry Time 
 
 and revealed the first gray streaks of the 
 breaking light of day. 
 
 " Nay, do not tantalize me, Nell," be 
 sought the King, throwing himself upon 
 the couch. "I am sad to-night." 
 
 The woman s forgiving heart was 
 touched with sympathy. Her eyes sought 
 his sadly beautiful face. She ran to him, 
 fell upon her knees and kissed his hand 
 tenderly. 
 
 " Tantalize my King ! " she cried. " The 
 day will be so happy; for I ve seen you 
 at the dawn. "There was all the emotional 
 fervour and pathetic tenderness which the 
 great composer has compressed into the 
 love-music of "Tristan and Isolde "in her 
 voice. 
 
 " My crown is heavy, Nell," he con 
 tinued. " Heaven gives us crowns, but 
 not the eye to see the ending of our 
 deeds." 
 
 " God sees them," said Nell. "Ah, Sire, 
 I thank the Maker of the world for giv 
 ing a crown to one whom I respect and 
 love." 
 
 " And I curse it," cried the King, with
 
 Mistress Nell 
 
 earnest eyes; "for tis the only barrier 
 to our united love. It is the sparkling 
 spider in the centre of a great web of in 
 trigue and infamy." 
 
 "You make me bold to speak. Cut 
 the web, Sire, which binds thy crown to 
 France. There is the only danger." 
 
 "Thou art wrong, Nelly, wrong!" He 
 spoke in deep, firm accents. " I have de 
 cided otherwise." 
 
 He rose abruptly, his brow clouded 
 with thought. She took his hand tenderly. 
 
 "Then, change your mind, Sire," she 
 pleaded; "for I can prove " 
 
 "What, girl?" he asked eagerly, his 
 curiosity awakened by her manner. 
 
 Nell did not respond. To continue 
 would reveal Adair, and she could not 
 think of that. 
 
 "What, I say?" again asked Charles, 
 impatiently. 
 
 " To-morrow, Sire," laughed Nell, eva 
 sively. 
 
 "Aye, to-morrow and to-morrow!" 
 petulantly repeated the King. 
 
 He was about to demand a direcl re- 
 [ 292 ]
 
 A Merry Tale of a Merry Time 
 
 ply but was stayed by the sound of a strug 
 gle without. 
 
 It befell in the nick of time for Nell, 
 as all things, indeed, in life seemed to 
 befall in the nick of time for her. The 
 impious huswives shook their heads and 
 attributed it to the evil influence; the 
 pious huswives asserted it was providen 
 tial; Nell herself laughingly declared it 
 was her lucky star. 
 
 "Ho, without there!" Charles cried, 
 impatiently almost angrily at the in 
 terruption. "Whence comes this noisy 
 riot?" 
 
 James, Rochester and the others un 
 ceremoniously re-entered. 
 
 "Pardon, Sire," explained the Duke 
 of York; "the guard caught but now an 
 armed ruffian prowling by the house. 
 They report they stayed him on suspi 
 cion of his looks and insolence." 
 
 "Adair! Adair! My life upon t!" 
 laughed the King, ever ready for sport. 
 " Set him before us." 
 
 An officer ofthe guard departedquickly 
 to bring in the offender. The courtiers 
 [ 293 ]
 
 Mistress Nell 
 
 took up the King s cry most readily; and 
 there was a general cackle of "Adair!" 
 "Adah-!" "A trial!" "Sire!" "Bring in 
 the coward!" 
 
 Nell stood in the midst of the scene, 
 the picture of demure innocence. 
 
 "They ve caught Adair!" she whis 
 pered to Moll, mischievously. 
 
 "Aye, gallants," cried the Merry Mon 
 arch, approvingly, "we ll form a Court 
 of Inquiry. This table shall be our bench, 
 on which we ll hem and haw and puff 
 and look judicial. Odsfish, we will teach 
 Radamanthus and Judge Jeffreys ways of 
 terrorizing." 
 
 He sprang upon the table, which 
 creaked somewhat beneath the royal bur 
 den, and assumed the austere, frowning 
 brow of worldly justice. 
 
 " Oyer, oyer, all ye who have griev 
 ances "cried the garrulous Rochester 
 in the husky tones of the crier, who most 
 generally assumes that he is the whole 
 court and oftentimes should be. 
 
 " Mistress Nell," commanded the royal 
 judge, summoning Nell to the bar, " thou 
 
 [ 2 94 ]
 
 A Merry Tale of a Merry Time 
 
 shalt be counsel for the prisoner; Adair s 
 life hangs upon thy skill to outwit the 
 law." 
 
 "Or bribe the judge, Sire?" suggested 
 Nell, demurely. 
 
 "Not with thy traitor lips," retorted 
 Charles, with the injured dignity of a 
 petty justice about to commit a flash of 
 true wit for contempt of court. 
 
 "Traitor lips?" cried Nell, sadly. "By 
 my troth, I never kissed Adair. I con 
 fess, I tried, your Majesty; but I could 
 not." 
 
 " Have a care," replied the King, in a 
 tone which indicated that the fires of sus 
 picion still smouldered in his breast; "I 
 am growing jealous." 
 
 Nell fell upon one knee and stretched 
 forth her arms suppliantly. 
 
 "Adair is in such a tight place, Sire, 
 he can scarcely breathe," she pleaded, with 
 the zeal of a barrister hard-working for 
 his first fee in her voice, " much less speak 
 for himself. Mercy!" 
 
 " We will have justice; not mercy," re 
 plied the court, with a sly wink at Roch- 
 
 [ 295 ]
 
 Mistress Nell 
 
 ester. "Guilty or not guilty, wench?" 
 
 "Not guilty, Sire! Did you ever see 
 the man who was?" 
 
 The King laughed despite himself, fol 
 lowed by his ever-aping courtiers. 
 
 " I 11 plead for the Crown," asserted the 
 grim James, with great vehemence, "to 
 rid the realm of this dancing-Jack." 
 
 "Thou hast cause, brother," laughed 
 the King. "Rochester, thou shalt sit by 
 us here." 
 
 Rochester sprang, with a contented 
 chuckle, into a chair on the opposite 
 side of the table to that upon which his 
 Majesty was holding his mock-court and 
 seated himself upon its high back, so 
 poised as not to fall. From this lofty 
 bench, with a queer gurgle, to say noth 
 ing of a swelling of the chest, and with 
 an approving glance from his Majesty, 
 he added his mite to the all-inspiring 
 dignity of the revellers court. 
 
 "Judge Rochester!" continued the 
 King, slapping him with his glove, across 
 the table. "Judge of good ale. We ll 
 confer with the cups, imbibe the statutes 
 
 [ 296 ]
 
 A Merry Tale of a Merry Time 
 
 and drink in the law. Set the rascal before 
 us." 
 
 In obedience to the command, a man 
 well muffled with a cloak was forced into 
 the room, a guard at either arm. 
 
 Behind them, taking advantage of the 
 open door to appease their curiosity, 
 crowded many hangers-on of courtdom, 
 among whom was Strings, who had met 
 the revellers some distance from the house 
 and had returned with them. 
 
 " Hold off your hands, knaves," com 
 manded the prisoner, who was none other 
 than Hart, the player, indignant at the 
 detention. 
 
 "Silence, rogue!" commanded the 
 King. "Thy name?" 
 
 "Sire!" cried Hart, throwing off his 
 mantle and glancing for the first time at 
 the judge s face. He sank immediately 
 upon one knee, bowing respectfully. 
 
 "Jack Hart ! " cried one and all, craning 
 their necks in surprise and expectation. 
 
 " Slife, a spy upon our merry-mak 
 ing!" exclaimed the displeased monarch. 
 "What means this prowling, sir?" 
 [ 297 ]
 
 Mistress Nell 
 
 " Pardon, pardon, my reply, your Maj 
 esty," humbly importuned the player. 
 " Blinded by passion, I might say that I 
 should regret." 
 
 " Your strange behaviour and stranger 
 looks have meaning, sir," cried the King, 
 impatiently. "Out with it! These are 
 too dangerous times to withhold your 
 thoughts from your King." 
 
 "No need for commands, Sire," en 
 treated Hart. "The words are trembling 
 on my lips and will out themselves in spite 
 of me. At Portsmouth s ball, an hour past, 
 I o erheard that fop Adair boast to-night 
 a midnight rendezvous here with Nell." 
 
 Nell placed her hands upon her heart. 
 
 "This my old friend," she reflected 
 sadly. 
 
 "Our jest turned earnest," cried 
 Charles. "Well? Well?" he questioned, 
 in peremptory tones. 
 
 " I could not believe my ears, Sire," the 
 prisoner continued, faltering. " I watched 
 to refute the lie " 
 
 "Yes yes " exhorted the King, in 
 expectation. 
 
 [ 298 ]
 
 A Merry Tale of a Merry Time 
 
 "I cannot go on." 
 
 "Knave, I command!" 
 
 " I saw Adair enter this abode at mid 
 night." Hart s head fell, full of shame, 
 upon his breast. 
 
 " Sblood," muttered the King, scarce 
 mindful that his words might be audi 
 ble to those about him, "my heart stands 
 still as if t were knifed. My pretty golden- 
 head, my bonnie Nell !" He turned sharply 
 toward the player. "Your words are false, 
 false, sir! Kind Heaven, they must be." 
 
 " Pardon, Sire," pleaded Hart ; " I know 
 not what I do or say. Only love for Nell 
 led me to this spot." 
 
 " Love ! " cried Nell, with the irony of 
 sadness. "Oh, inhuman, to spy out my 
 ways, resort to mean device, involve my 
 honour, and call the motive love!" 
 
 "You are cruel, cruel, Nell," sobbed 
 Hart; and he turned away his eyes. He 
 could not look at her. 
 
 "Love!" continued Nell, bitterly. 
 "True love would come alone, filled 
 with gentle admonition. I pity you, friend 
 Hart, that God has made you thus!" 
 
 [ 2 99 ]
 
 Mistress Nell 
 
 " No more, no more ! " Hart quite broke 
 beneath the strain. 
 
 "Dost hear, dost hear?" cried Charles, 
 in ecstasy, deeply affected by Nell s ex 
 position of true love. " Sir, you are the 
 second to-night to belie the dearest name 
 in England. You shall answer well to me." 
 
 "Ask the lady, Sire," pleaded Hart, in 
 desperation. "I ll stake my life upon her 
 reply." 
 
 " Nell? Nell? " questioned the King; 
 for he could scarce refuse to accept her 
 word when a player had placed unques 
 tioned faith in it. 
 
 Nell hid her face in her silken kerchief 
 and burst into seeming spasmodic sobs 
 of grief. " Sire! " was all the response the 
 King could hear. He trembled violently 
 and his face grew white. He did not know 
 that Nell s tears were merry laughs. 
 
 " Her tears convicl: her," exclaimed 
 Hart, triumphantly. 
 
 " I 11 not believe it," cried the King. 
 
 Nell became more hysterical. She 
 sobbed and sobbed, as though her heart 
 would break, her face buried in her hands 
 
 [ 3 ]
 
 A Merry Tale of a Merry Time 
 
 and her flying curls falling over and 
 hiding all. 
 
 "Adair s sides are aching," she chuc 
 kled, in apparent convulsions of sorrow. 
 "He s laughing through Nell s tears." 
 
 Meanwhile, Moll had been standing by 
 the window; and, though she was watch 
 ing eagerly the exciting scene within the 
 room, she could not fail to note the sound 
 of galloping horses and the rattling of a 
 heavy coach on the roadway without. 
 
 " A coach and six at break-neck speed," 
 she cried, "have landed at the door. A 
 cavalier alights." 
 
 "Time some one arrived," thought 
 Nell, as she glanced at herself in the 
 mirror, to see that Adair was well hidden, 
 and to arrange her curls, to bewitch the 
 new arrivals, whosoever they might be. 
 
 As the cavalier dashed up the path, in 
 the moonlight, Moll recognized the Duke 
 of Buckingham, and at once announced 
 his name. 
 
 "Ods-pitikins!" exclaimed Charles, 
 angrily. "No leisure for Buckingham 
 now. We have other business." 
 
 [ 3 01 1
 
 Mistress Nell 
 
 He had scarce spoken, however, when 
 Buckingham, unceremoniously and al 
 most breathless, entered the room. 
 
 " How now? " cried the King, fiercely, 
 as the Duke fell on his knee before him; 
 for his temper had been wrought to a 
 high pitch. 
 
 "Pardon, your Majesty," besought his 
 lordship, in nervous accents. "My mis 
 sion will excuse my haste and interrup 
 tion. Your ear I crave one moment. Sire, 
 I am told Nell has to-night secreted in 
 this house a lover!" 
 
 "Another one!" whispered Nell to 
 Moll. 
 
 " Tis hearsay," cried the King, now 
 at fever-heat, "the give-and-take of gos 
 sips! I ll none of it." 
 
 "My witness, Sire!" answered Buck 
 ingham. 
 
 He turned toward the door; and there, 
 to the astonishment of all, stood the Duch 
 ess of Portsmouth, who had followed him 
 from the coach, a lace mantilla, caught 
 up in her excitement, protecting her 
 shapely shoulders and head. 
 
 [ 3 2 ]
 
 A Merry Tale of a Merry Time 
 
 As the assembled courtiers looked upon 
 the beautiful rivals, standing, as they did, 
 face to face before the King, and realized 
 the situation, their faces grew grave, in 
 deed. 
 
 The suspense became intense. 
 
 "The day of reckoning s come," 
 thought Nell, as she met with burning 
 glances the Duchess s eyes. 
 
 " Speak, your grace," exhorted Buck 
 ingham. "The King attends you." 
 
 "Nay, before all, my lord?" protested 
 Portsmouth, with pretended delicacy. 
 " I could not do Madame Gwyn so much 
 injustice." 
 
 "If your speech concerns me," ob 
 served Nell, mildly, "out with it boldly. 
 My friends will consider the source." 
 
 "Speak, and quickly!" commanded 
 Charles. 
 
 " I would rather lose my tongue," still 
 protested the Duchess, "than speak such 
 words of any one; but my duty to your 
 Majesty " 
 
 "No preludes," interrupted the King; 
 and he meant it, too. He was done with 
 
 [ 33 1
 
 Mistress Nell 
 
 trifling, and the Duchess saw it. 
 
 "My servants," she said, with a vir 
 tuous look, " passing this abode by chance, 
 this very night, saw at a questionable hour 
 a strange cavalier entering the boudoir of 
 Madame Gwyn!" 
 
 " She would make my honour the price 
 of her revenge," thought Nell, her eyes 
 flashing. "She shall rue those words, or 
 Adair s head and mine are one for naught." 
 
 "What say you to this, Nell?" asked 
 the King, the words choking in his throat. 
 
 " Sire, I I " answered Nell, eva 
 sively. "There s some mistake or knav 
 ery!" 
 
 " She hesitates," interpolated the Duch 
 ess, eagerly. 
 
 "You change colour, wench," cried 
 Charles, his heart, indeed, again upon the 
 rack. "Ho, without there! Search the 
 house." 
 
 An officer entered quickly to obey 
 the mandate. 
 
 "Stay, Sire," exclaimed Nell, raising 
 herself to her full height, her hot, trem 
 bling lips compressed, her cheeks aflame. 
 
 [ 34 ]
 
 A Merry Tale of a Merry Time 
 
 " My oath, I have not seen Adair s face 
 this night." 
 
 Her words fell upon the assemblage 
 like thunder from a June-day sky. The 
 King s face brightened. The Duchess s 
 countenance grew pale as death. 
 
 " Mon Dieul Adair!" she gasped in 
 startled accents to Lord Buckingham, 
 attendant at her side. "Could it be he 
 my servants saw? The packet ! Fool ! Why 
 did I give it him?" 
 
 Buckingham trembled violently. He 
 was even more startled than Portsmouth; 
 for he had more to lose. England was his 
 home and France was hers. 
 
 "The scales are turning against us," he 
 whispered. "Throw in this ring for safety. 
 Nell s gift to Adair; you understand." 
 
 He slipped, unobserved, upon the 
 Duchess s ringer the jewelled ring the 
 King had given to Almahyde among the 
 roses at the performance of " Granada." 
 
 "Yes! Yes! Tis my only chance," she 
 answered, catching at his meaning; for 
 her wits were of the sharpest in intrigue 
 and cunning, and she possessed the bold- 
 
 [ 35 ]
 
 Mistress Nell 
 
 ness too to execute her plans. 
 
 She approached the King, with the 
 confident air possessed by great women 
 who have been bred at court. 
 
 "Your Majesty recognizes this ring?" 
 she asked in mildest accents. 
 
 "The one I gave to Nell!" answered 
 the astonished King. 
 
 " The one Adair this night gave to me," 
 said Portsmouth, calmly. 
 
 "Tis false! "cried Nell, who could 
 restrain her tongue no longer. " I gave 
 that ring to dear old Strings." 
 
 "A rare jewel to bestow upon a fid 
 dler," said the Duchess, sarcastically. 
 
 "It is true," said Strings, who had 
 wormed his way through the group at 
 mention of his name and now stood the 
 meek central figure at the strange hear 
 ing. " My little ones were starving, Sire; 
 and Nell gave me the ring all she had. 
 They could not eat the gold; so I sold it 
 to the Duke of Buckingham!" 
 
 "We are lost," whispered Buckingham 
 to Portsmouth, scarce audibly. 
 
 "Coward!" sneered the Duchess, con-
 
 A Merry Tale of a Merry Time 
 
 temptuously. " I am not ready to sail for 
 France so soon." 
 
 The King stood irresolute. Events had 
 transpired so quickly that he scarce knew 
 what it was best to do. His troubled spirit 
 longed for a further hearing, while his 
 heart demanded the ending of the scene 
 with a peremptory word. 
 
 Before he could decide upon his course, 
 the Duchess had swept across the room, 
 with queenly grace. 
 
 " Our hostess will pardon my eyes for 
 wandering, * she said, undaunted; "but 
 her abode is filled with pleasant surprises. 
 Sire, here is a piece of handiwork." 
 
 She knelt by the couch, and drew from 
 under it a coat of gray, one sleeve of which 
 had caught her eye. 
 
 Nell looked at Moll with reproving 
 glances. 
 
 " Marry, tis Strings s, of course," con 
 tinued Portsmouth, dangling the coat be 
 fore the wondering eyes of all. " The lace, 
 the ruffle, becomes his complexion. He 
 fits everything here so beautifully." 
 
 As she turned the garment slowly about, 
 
 [ 37 ]
 
 Mistress Nell 
 
 she caught sight of a package of papers 
 protruding from its inner pocket, sealed 
 with her own seal. For the first time, the 
 significance of the colour of the coat came 
 home to her. 
 
 " Mon Dieu" she cried, " Adair s coat. 
 The packet!" 
 
 Her fingers sought the papers eagerly; 
 but Nell s eye and hand were too quick for 
 her. 
 
 " Not so fast, dear Duchess," said Nell, 
 sweetly, passing the little packet to his 
 Majesty. " Our King must read these pa 
 pers and between the lines as well." 
 
 "Enough of this ! "commanded Charles. 
 "What is it?" 
 
 " Some papers, Sire," said Nell, point 
 edly, " given for a kiss and taken with a 
 kiss. I have not had time to read them." 
 
 "Some family papers, Sire," asserted 
 the Duchess, with assumed indifference, 
 "stolen from my house." 
 
 She would have taken them from his 
 Majesty, so great, indeed, was her bold 
 ness; but Nell again stayed her. 
 
 "Aye, stolen," said Nell, sharply; "but
 
 A Merry Tale of a Merry Time 
 
 by the hostess herself from her unsus 
 pecting, royal guest. There, Sire, stands 
 the only thief!" She pointed accusingly 
 at Portsmouth. 
 
 "My signature!" cried Charles, as he 
 ran his eye down a parchment. "The 
 treaties! No more Parliaments for Eng 
 land. I agreed to that." 
 
 "I agree to that myself," said Nell, rogu 
 ishly. "England s King is too great to need 
 Parliaments. The King should have a con 
 fidential adviser, however not French," 
 and she cast a defiant glance at Ports 
 mouth, "but English. Read on; read on." 
 
 She placed her pretty cheek as near as 
 possible to the King s as she followed the 
 letters over his shoulder. 
 
 " A note to Bouillon ! " he said, perus 
 ing the parchmentsfurther. " Charles con 
 sents to the fall of Luxembourg. I did not 
 sign all this. I see it all: Louis s ambition 
 to rule the world, England s King debased 
 by promises won and royal contracts made 
 with a clever woman forgery mixed 
 with truth. Sweet Heaven, what have I 
 done!" 
 
 [ 39 ]
 
 Mistress Nell 
 
 "The papers have not gone, Sire," 
 blandly remarked Nell. 
 
 "Thanks to you, my Nell," said Charles. 
 He addressed Portsmouth sharply: " Ma 
 dame, your coach awaits you." 
 
 "But, Sire," replied the Duchess, who 
 was brave to the last, "Madame Gwyn 
 has yet Adair to answer for!" 
 
 " Adair will answer for himself! " cried 
 Nell, triumphantly. 
 
 She threw aside the pink gown and 
 stood as Adair before the astonished eyes 
 of all. 
 
 "At your service," she said, bowing 
 sweetly to the Duchess. 
 
 "A player s trick! " cried Portsmouth, 
 haughtily, as a parting shot of contempt. 
 
 "Yes, Portsmouth," replied Nell, still 
 in sweetest accents, "to show where lies 
 the true and where the false." 
 
 "You are a witch," hissed Portsmouth. 
 
 "You are the King s true love," ex 
 claimed the Merry Monarch. "To my 
 arms, Nell, to my arms; for you first 
 taught me the meaning of true love! 
 Buckingham, you forget your courtesy. 
 
 [ 3 10 ]
 
 A Merry Tale of a Merry Time 
 
 Her grace wishes to be escorted to her 
 coach." 
 
 " Eon voyage, madame," said Nell, de 
 murely, as the Duchess took Bucking 
 ham s arm and departed. 
 
 The King s eyes fell upon the player, 
 Hart, who was still in custody. 
 
 "Away with this wretch!" he cried, 
 incensed at his conduct. " I am not done 
 with him." 
 
 " Forgive him, Sire," interceded Nell. 
 " He took his cue from Heaven, and good 
 has come of it." 
 
 " True, Nell," said the King, merci 
 fully. Then he turned to Hart: "You are 
 free; but henceforth adl the knave only 
 on the stage." Hart bowed with shame 
 and withdrew. 
 
 "Sire, Sire," exclaimed Strings, for 
 getting his decorum in his eagerness. 
 
 "Well, Strings?" inquired the King, 
 good-humouredly; for there was now no 
 cloud in his sky. 
 
 " Let me play the exit for the villains? " 
 he pleaded unctuously. "The old fiddle 
 is just bursting with tunes." 
 
 [ 3" 1
 
 Mistress Nell 
 
 "You shall, Strings," replied his Maj 
 esty, "and on a Cremona. From to-day, 
 you lead the royal orchestra." 
 
 " Odsbud," cried Strings, gleefully, " I 
 can offer Jack Hart an engagement." 
 
 "Just retribution, Strings," laughed 
 Nell, happily. " Can you do as much for 
 Nell, and forgive her, Sire?" 
 
 "It is I who should ask your pardon, 
 Nell," exclaimed the King, ecstatically, 
 throwing both arms passionately about 
 her. " You are Charles s queen ; you should 
 be England s." 
 
 So the story ends, as all good stories should, in a 
 perfect, unbroken dream of love.
 
 = 
 
 EPILOGUE 
 
 Spoken by Miss Crosman for the first time in 
 New York at the Bijou Theatre on the evening 
 of Oftober 9, 1900: 
 
 GOOD friends, before we end the play, 
 I beg you all a moment stay : 
 I warn my sex, by Nell s affair, 
 Against a rascal called Adair ! 
 
 If lovers hearts you *d truly scan, 
 Odsfish, perk up, and be a man !
 
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 UC SOUTHERN REGIONAL LIBRARY FACILITY 
 
 A 000695162 8