Simon Dale
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Anthony Hope >> Simon Dale
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He turned on me with a start, seeming to have forgotten my presence.
"This young man?" he asked, looking full in my face. "Why, his face is
honest; if he choose his friends well, he may do well."
"I am of his friends," said Nell, and I defy any man on earth to have
given the lie to such a claim so made.
"And for you, may the Lord soften your heart," said Phineas to her.
"Some say it's too soft already," said Nell.
"You will see me again," said he to her, and moved towards the door. But
once more he faced me before he went, and looked very intently at me.
Then he passed out, leaving us alone.
At his going Nell sighed for relief, stretched out her arms, and let
them fall on the table in front of her; then she sprang up and ran to
me, catching hold of my hands.
"And how goes all at pretty Hatchstead?" she asked.
I drew back, releasing my hands from hers, and I spoke to her stiffly.
"Madame," said I, "this is not Hatchstead, nor do you seem the lady whom
I knew at Hatchstead."
"Indeed, you seem very like the gentleman I knew, and knew well, there,"
she retorted.
"And you, very unlike the lady."
"Nay, not so unlike as you think. But are you also going to preach to
me?"
"Madame," said I in cold courtesy, "I have to thank you for a good
remembrance of me, and for your kindness in doing me a service; I assure
you I prize it none the less, because I may not accept it."
"You may not accept it?" she cried. "What? You may not accept the
commission?"
"No, madame," said I, bowing low.
Her face was like a pretty child's in disappointment.
"And your arm? How come you to be wounded? Have you been quarrelling
already?"
"Already, madame."
"But with whom, and why?"
"With my Lord Carford. The reason I need not weary you with."
"But I desire to know it."
"Because my lord said that Mistress Gwyn had obtained me my commission."
"But it was true."
"Doubtless; yet I fought."
"Why, if it were true?"
I made her no answer. She went and seated herself again at the table,
looking up at me with eyes in which I seemed to read pain and puzzle.
"I thought it would please you, Simon," she said, with a coaxing glance
that at least feigned timidity.
"Never have I been so proud as on the day I received it," said I; "and
never, I think, so happy, unless, may be, when you and I walked in the
Manor park."
"Nay, Simon, but you will be glad to have it, even though I obtained it
for you."
"I shall not have it. I go to Whitehall to-morrow to surrender it."
She sprang up in wonder, and anger also showed in her eyes.
"To surrender it? You mean in truth to surrender it? And because it came
from me?"
Again I could do nothing but bow. That I did with the best air I could
muster, although I had no love for my part in this scene. Alas for a man
who, being with her, must spend his time in chiding!
"Well, I wish I hadn't remembered you," she said resentfully.
"Indeed, madame, I also wish that I had forgotten."
"You have, or you would never use me so."
"It is my memory that makes me rough, madame. Indeed, how should I have
forgotten?"
"You hadn't?" she asked, advancing nearer to me. "No, in truth I believe
you hadn't! And, Simon, listen!" Now she stood with her face but a yard
from mine, and again her lips were curved with mirth and malice.
"Listen, Simon," she said, "you had not forgotten; and you shall not
forget."
"It is very likely," said I simply; and I took up my hat from the table.
"How fares Mistress Barbara?" asked Nell suddenly.
"I have not waited on her," I answered.
"Then indeed I am honoured, although our meeting was somewhat by chance.
Ah, Simon, I want to be so angry with you. But how can I be angry? I can
never be angry. Why" (and here she came even a little closer, and now
she was smiling most damnably--nay, I mean most delightfully; but it is
often much the same), "I was not very angry even when you kissed me,
Simon."
It is not for me to say what answer to that speech she looked to
receive. Mine was no more than a repetition of my bow.
"You'll keep the commission, Simon?" she whispered, standing on tiptoe,
as though she would reach my ear.
"I can't," said I, bowing no more, and losing, I fear, the air of grave
composure that I had striven to maintain. I saw what seemed a light of
triumph in her eyes. Yet that mood passed quickly from her. She grew
pensive and drew away from me. I stepped towards the door, but a hand
laid on my arm arrested me.
"Simon," she asked, "have you sweet memories of Hatchstead?"
"God forgive me," said I confusedly, "sweeter than my hopes of heaven."
She looked at me gravely for an instant. Then, sighing, she said,
"Then I wish you had not come to town, but stayed there with your
memories. They were of me?"
"Of Cydaria."
"Ah, of Cydaria," she echoed, with a little smile.
But a moment later the full merriment of laughter broke out again on her
face, and, drawing her hand away, she let me go, crying after me,
"But you shall not forget, Simon. No, you shall not forget."
There I left her, standing in the doorway of the inn, daring me to
forget. And my brain seemed all whirling and swirling as I walked down
the Lane.
CHAPTER VI
AN INVITATION TO COURT
I spent the rest of that day in my inn, agreeably to the advice of the
surgeon, and the next morning, finding my wound healing well, and my
body free from fever, I removed to Mr Darrell's new lodging by the
Temple, where he had most civilly placed two rooms at my disposal. Here
also I provided myself with a servant, a fellow named Jonah Wall, and
prepared to go to Whitehall as the King's letter commanded me. Of Mr
Darrell I saw nothing; he went off before I came, having left for me
with Robert, his servant, a message that he was much engaged with the
Secretary's business, and prayed to be excused from affording me his
company. Yet I was saved from making my journey alone--a thing that
would have occasioned me much trepidation--by the arrival of my Lord
Quinton. The reverence of our tender years is hard to break down, and I
received my visitor with an uneasiness which was not decreased by the
severity of his questions concerning my doings. I made haste to tell him
that I had determined to resign the commission bestowed on me. These
tidings so transformed his temper that he passed from cold reproof to an
excess of cordiality, being pleased to praise highly a scruple as
honourable as (he added with a shrug) it was rare, and he began to laugh
at himself as he recounted humorously how his wrath against me had grown
higher and higher with each thing that had come to his ears. Eager now
to make amends, he offered to go with me to Whitehall, proposing that we
should ride in his coach to the Mall, and walk thence together. I
accepted his company most gratefully, since it would save me from
betraying an ignorance of which I was ashamed, and strengthen my courage
for the task before me. Accordingly we set out, and as we went my lord
took occasion to refer to my acquaintance with Mistress Nell, suggesting
plainly enough, although not directly, that I should be wise to abandon
her society at the same time that I laid down the commission she had
obtained for me. I did not question his judgment, but avoided giving any
promise to be guided by it. Perceiving that I was not willing to be
pressed, he passed from the topic with a sigh, and began to discourse on
the state of the kingdom. Had I paid more heed to what he said I might
have avoided certain troubles into which I fell afterwards, but, busy
staring about me, I gave him only such attention as courtesy required,
and not enough for a proper understanding of his uneasiness at the
dealings of our Court with the French King and the visit of the King's
sister, Madame d'Orleans, of which the town was full. For my lord,
although a most loyal gentleman, hated both the French and the Papists,
and was much grieved at the King's apparent inclination in their favour.
So he talked, I nodding and assenting to all, but wondering when he
would bid me wait on my lady, and whether Mistress Barbara was glad that
my Lord Carford's sword had passed through my arm only and done no
greater hurt.
Thus we came to the Mall, and having left the coach, set out to walk
slowly, my lord having his arm through mine. I was very glad to be seen
thus in his company, for, although not so great a man here as at
Hatchstead, he had no small reputation, and carried himself with a noble
air. When we had gone some little way, being very comfortable with one
another, and speaking now of lighter matters, I perceived at some
distance a party of gentlemen, three in number; they were accompanied by
a little boy very richly dressed, and were followed at a short interval
by five or six more gentlemen, among whom I recognised immediately my
friend Darrell. It seemed then that the Secretary's business could be
transacted in leisurely fashion! As the first group passed along, I
observed that the bystanders uncovered, but I had hardly needed this
sign to tell me that the King was of the party. I was familiar with his
features, but he seemed to me even a more swarthy man than all the
descriptions of his blackness had led me to expect. He bore himself
with a very easy air, yet was not wanting in dignity, and being
attracted by him I fell to studying his appearance with such interest
that I came near to forgetting to remove my hat. Presently he seemed to
observe us; he smiled, and beckoned with his hand to my lord, who went
forward alone, leaving me still watching the King and his companions.
I had little difficulty in recognising the name of one; the fine figure,
haughty manner, and magnificent attire showed him to be the famous Duke
of Buckingham, whose pride lay in seeming more of a King than the King
himself. While my lord spoke with the King, this nobleman jested with
the little boy, who answered with readiness and vivacity. As to the last
member of the group (whom the Duke seemed to treat with some neglect) I
was at a loss. His features were not distinguished except by a perfect
composure and self-possession, but his bearing was very courtly and
graceful. He wore a slight, pleasant, yet rather rigid smile, and his
attitude was as though he listened to what his master said with even
excessive deference and urbanity. His face was marked, and to my
thinking much disfigured, by a patch or plaster worn across the nose, as
though to hide some wound or scar.
After a few minutes, during which I waited very uneasily, my lord turned
and signed to me to approach. I obeyed, hat in hand, and in a condition
of great apprehension. To be presented to the King was an honour
disquieting enough; what if my lord had told His Majesty that I declined
to bear his commission through a disapproval of his reasons for granting
me the favour? But when I came near I fell into the liveliest fear that
my lord had done this very thing; for the King was smiling
contemptuously, Buckingham laughing openly, and the gentleman with the
plaster regarding me with a great and very apparent curiosity. My lord,
meanwhile, wore a propitiatory but doubtful air, as though he prayed but
hardly hoped a gracious reception for me. Thus we all stood a moment in
complete silence, I invoking an earthquake or any convulsion of nature
that should rescue me from my embarrassment. Certainly the King did not
hasten to do me this kindly service. He grew grave and seemed
displeased, nay, he frowned most distinctly, but then he smiled, yet
more as though he must than because he would. I do not know how the
thing would have ended if the Duke of Buckingham had not burst out
laughing again, at which the King could not restrain himself, but began
to laugh also, although still not as though he found the jest altogether
to his liking.
"So, sir," said the King, composing his features as he addressed me,
"you are not desirous of bearing my commission and fighting my enemies
for me?"
"I would fight for your Majesty to the death," said I timidly, but with
fervour.
"Yet you are on the way to ask leave to resign your commission. Why,
sir?"
I could not answer; it was impossible to state my reason to him.
"The utility of a woman's help," observed the King, "was apparent very
early in the world's history. Even Adam was glad of it."
"She was his wife, Sir," interposed the Duke.
"I have never read of the ceremony," said the King. "But if she were,
what difference?"
"Why, it makes a great deal of difference in many ways, Sir," laughed
Buckingham, and he glanced with a significance which I did not
understand at the boy who was waiting near with a weary look on his
pretty face.
The King laughed carelessly and called, "Charles, come hither."
Then I knew that the boy must be the King's son, afterwards known as
Earl of Plymouth, and found the meaning of the Duke's glance.
"Charles, what think you of women?" the King asked.
The pretty child thought for a moment, then answered, looking up,
"They are very tiresome creatures, Sir."
"Why, so they are, Charles," said the King gravely.
"They will never let a thing alone, Sir."
"No, they won't, Charles, nor a man either."
"It's first this, Sir, then that--a string, or a garter, or a bow."
"Yes, Charles; or a title, or a purse, or a commission," said the King.
"Shall we have no more to do with them?"
"I would desire no more at all, Sir," cried the boy.
"It appears, Mr Dale," said the King, turning to me, "that Charles here,
and you, and I, are all of one mind on the matter of women. Had Heaven
been on our side, there would have been none of them in the world."
He seemed to be examining me now with some degree of attention, although
I made, I fear, a very poor figure. Lord Quinton came to my rescue, and
began to enlarge on my devotion to His Majesty's person and my eagerness
to serve him in any way I might, apart from the scruple which he had
ventured to disclose to the King.
"Mr Dale says none of these fine things for himself," remarked the King.
"It is not always those that say most who do most, Sir," pleaded my
lord.
"Therefore this young gentleman who says nothing will do everything?"
The King turned to his companion who wore the plaster, and had as yet
not spoken at all. "My Lord Arlington," said he, "it seems that I must
release Mr Dale."
"I think so, Sir," answered Arlington, on whom I looked with much
curiosity, since he was Darrell's patron.
"I cannot have servants who do not love me," pursued the King.
"Nor subjects," added Buckingham, with a malicious smile.
"Although I am not, unhappily, so free in the choice of my Ministers,"
said the King. Then he faced round on me and addressed me in a cold
tone:
"I am reluctant, sir, to set down your conduct to any want of affection
or loyalty towards me. I shall be glad if you can show me that my
forbearance is right." With this he bent his head slightly, and moved
on. I bowed very low, shame and confusion so choking me that I had not a
word to say. Indeed, I seemed damned beyond redemption, so far as my
fortunes depended on obtaining the King's favour.
Again I was left to myself, for the King, anxious, as I took it, to show
that his displeasure extended to me only, had stopped again to speak
with my lord. But in a moment, to my surprise, Arlington was at my side.
"Come, sir," said he very genially, "there's no need of despair. The
King is a little vexed, but his resentment is not obstinate; and let me
tell you that he has been very anxious to see you."
"The King anxious to see me?" I cried.
"Why, yes. He has heard much of you." His lips twitched as he glanced at
me. I had the discretion to ask no further explanation, and in a moment
he grew grave again, continuing, "I also am glad to meet with you, for
my good friend Darrell has sounded your praises to me. Sir, there are
many ways of serving the King."
"I should rejoice with all my heart to find one of them, my lord," I
answered.
"I may find you one, if you are willing to take it."
"I should be your lordship's most humble and grateful servant."
"Tut, if I gave, I should ask in return," said he. And he added
suddenly, "You're a good Churchman, I suppose, Mr Dale?"
"Why, yes, my lord; I and all my family."
"Good, good. In these days our Church has many enemies. It is threatened
on more than one side."
I contented myself with bowing; when the Secretary spoke to me on such
high matters, it was for me to listen, and not to bandy opinions with
him.
"Yes, we are much threatened," said he. "Well, Mr Dale, I shall trust
that we may have other meetings. You are to be found at Mr Darrell's
lodging? You may look to hear from me, sir." He moved away, cutting
short my thanks with a polite wave of his hand.
Suddenly to my amazement the King turned round and called to me:
"Mr Dale, there is a play to be acted at my house to-morrow evening.
Pray give me the pleasure of your company."
I bowed almost to the ground, scarcely able to believe my ears.
"And we'll try," said the King, raising his voice so that not only we
who were close to him but the gentlemen behind also must hear, "to find
an ugly woman and an honest man, between whom we may place you. The
first should not be difficult to come on, but the second, I fear, is
well-nigh impossible, unless another stranger should come to Court.
Good-day to you, Mr Dale." And away he went, smiling very happily and
holding the boy's hand in his.
The King's immediate party was no sooner gone than Darrell ran up to me
eagerly, and before my lord could rejoin me, crying:
"What did he say to you?"
"The King? Why, he said----"
"No, no. What did my lord say?" He pointed to Arlington, who was walking
off with the King.
"He asked whether I were a good Churchman, and told me that I should
hear from him. But if he is so solicitous about the Church, how does he
endure your religion?"
Darrell had no time to answer, for Lord Quinton's grave voice struck in.
"He is a wise man who can answer a question touching my Lord Arlington's
opinion of the Church," said he.
Darrell flushed red, and turned angrily on the interrupter.
"You have no cause, my lord," he cried, "to attack the Secretary's
churchmanship."
"Then you have no cause, sir," retorted Quinton, "to defend it with so
much temper. Come, let me be. I have said as much to the Secretary's
face, and he bore it with more patience than you can muster on his
behalf."
By this time I was in some distress to see my old friend and my new at
such variance, and the more as I could not understand the ground of
their difference; the Secretary's suspected leaning towards the Popish
religion had not reached our ears in the country. But Darrell, as though
he did not wish to dispute further with a man his superior in rank and
age, drew off with a bow to my lord and a kindly nod to me, and rejoined
the other gentlemen in attendance on the King and his party.
"You came off well with the King, Simon," said my lord, taking my arm
again. "You made him laugh, and he counts no man his enemy who will do
him that service. But what did Arlington say to you?"
When I repeated the Secretary's words, he grew grave, but he patted my
arm in a friendly fashion, saying,
"You've shown wisdom and honour in this first matter, lad. I must trust
you in others. Yet there are many who have no faith in my Lord
Arlington, as Englishman or Churchman either."
"But," cried I, "does not Lord Arlington do as the King bids him?"
My lord looked full in my face, and answered steadily,
"I think he does, Simon." But then, as though he had said enough, or
even too much, he went on: "Come, you needn't grow too old or too
prudent all at once. Since you have seen the King, your business at
Whitehall will wait. Let us turn back to the coach and be driven to my
house, for, besides my lady, Barbara is there to-day on leave from her
attendance, and she will be glad to renew her acquaintance with you."
It was my experience as a young man, and, perchance, other young men may
have found the like, that whatsoever apprehensions or embarrassments
might be entailed by meeting a comely damsel, and however greatly her
displeasure and scorn were to be dreaded, yet the meeting was not
forgone, all perils being taken rather than that certain calamity.
Therefore I went with my lord to his handsome house in Southampton
Square, and found myself kissing my lady's hand before I was resolved on
how I should treat Mistress Barbara, or on the more weighty question of
how I might look to be treated by her.
I had not to wait long for the test. After a few moments of my lady's
amiable and kindly conversation, Barbara entered from the room behind,
and with her Lord Carford. He wore a disturbed air, which his affected
composure could not wholly conceal; her cheek was flushed, and she
seemed vexed; but I did not notice these things so much as the change
which had been wrought in her by the last four years. She had become a
very beautiful woman, ornamented with a high-bred grace and exquisite
haughtiness, tall and slim, carrying herself with a delicate dignity.
She gave me her hand to kiss, carelessly enough, and rather as though
she acknowledged an old acquaintance than found any pleasure in its
renewal. But she was gentle to me, and I detected in her manner a subtle
indication that, although she knew all, yet she pitied rather than
blamed; was not Simon very young and ignorant, and did not all the world
know how easily even honest young men might be beguiled by cunning
women? An old friend must not turn her back on account of a folly,
distasteful as it might be to her to be reminded of such matters.
My lord, I think, read his daughter very well, and, being determined to
afford me an opportunity to make my peace, engaged Lord Carford in
conversation, and bade her lead me into the room behind to see the
picture that Lely had lately painted of her. She obeyed; and, having
brought me to where it hung, listened patiently to my remarks on it,
which I tried to shape into compliments that should be pleasing and yet
not gross. Then, taking courage, I ventured to assure her that I fell
out with Lord Carford in sheer ignorance that he was a friend of her
family, and would have borne anything at his hands had I known it. She
smiled, answering,
"But you did him no harm," and she glanced at my arm in its sling.
She had not troubled herself to ask how it did, and I, a little nettled
at her neglect, said:
"Nay, all ended well. I alone was hurt, and the great lord came off
safe."
"Since the great lord was in the right," said she, "we should all
rejoice at that. Are you satisfied with your examination of the picture,
Mr Dale?"
I was not to be turned aside so easily.
"If you hold me to have been wrong, then I have done what I could to put
myself in the right since," said I, not doubting that she knew of my
surrender of the commission.
"I don't understand," said she, with a quick glance. "What have you
done?"
In wonder that she had not been informed, I cried,
"I have obtained the King's leave to decline his favour."
The colour which had been on her cheeks when she first entered had gone
before now, but at my words it returned a little.
"Didn't my lord tell you?" I asked.
"I haven't seen him alone this week past," she answered.
But she had seen Carford alone, and that in the last hour past. It was
strange that he, who had known my intention and commended it so highly,
should not have touched on it. I looked in her eyes; I think she
followed my thoughts, for she glanced aside, and said in visible
embarrassment,
"Shall we return?"
"You haven't spoken on the matter with my Lord Carford, then?" I asked.
She hesitated a moment, then answered as though she did not love the
truth but must tell it,
"Yes; but he said nothing of this. Tell me of it."
So I told her in simple and few words what I had done.
"Lord Carford said nothing of it," she said, when I ended. Then she
added, "But although you will not accept the favour, you have rendered
thanks for it?"
"I couldn't find my tongue when I was with the King," I answered with a
shamefaced laugh.
"I didn't mean to the King," said Barbara.
It was my turn to colour now; I had not been long enough in town to lose
the trick.
"I have seen her," I murmured.
Barbara suddenly made me a curtsey, saying bitterly,
"I wish you joy, sir, of your acquaintance."
When a man is alone with a beautiful lady, he is apt not to love an
intruder; yet on my soul I was glad to see Carford in the doorway. He
came towards us, but before he could speak Barbara cried to him,
"My lord, Mr Dale tells me news that will interest you."
"Indeed, madame, and what?"
"Why, that he has begged the King's leave to resign his commission.
Doesn't it surprise you?"
He looked at her, at me, and again at her. He was caught, for I knew
that he had been fully acquainted with my purpose. He gathered himself
together to answer her.
"Nay, I knew," he said, "and had ventured to applaud Mr Dale's
resolution. But it did not come into my mind to speak of it."
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