Mistress Nell Part 9

Buckingham chuckled softly.

"No wonder he's tattered and gray," he declared, humorously philosophizing upon Hart's reply, though it was evident that Hart himself was too much chafed by the presence of his lords.h.i.+p 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 nature 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 un.o.bserved into the room.

"What is it, d.i.c.k?" asked Nell, sweetly, as she opened the door slightly to inspect her visitor.

"A message,--very important," whispered d.i.c.k, softly, as he pa.s.sed a note within.

"Thank you," replied the actress; and the door closed again.

d.i.c.k was about to depart, when the alert Buckingham, rising hastily from his seat, called him.

"That was Nell's voice?" he asked.

"Yes, my lord. She's dressing," answered d.i.c.k. "Good night, Master Hart," he added, as he saw the manager.

Hart, however, was not in a good humour and turned sharply upon him.

d.i.c.k vanished.

"She will be out shortly, my lord," the manager observed to Buckingham, somewhat 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 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 ap.r.o.n-strings." His lords.h.i.+p 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 feelings of the two men were at white-heat.

"Your lords.h.i.+p's hours are too valuable to waste," politely suggested the manager. "I happen to know Mistress Gwyn sups with another to-night."

"Another?" sneered his lords.h.i.+p.

"Another!" hotly repeated the actor.

"We shall see, friend Hart," said Buckingham, in a tone no less agreeable, with difficulty restraining his feelings.

He threw himself impatiently into a 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 Buckingham'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 different. Each knew that Nell was just beyond 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 roguishly exclaimed unto her maid as she directed her to hold a candle nearer that she might once again spell out its words. "'To England's idol, the divine Eleanor Gwyn.' A holy apt beginning, by the ma.s.s! '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 a.s.sumed an att.i.tude of waiting.

"Have a care, my lord. I may forget--" Hart's fingers played upon his sword-hilt.

"Your occupation, sir?" jeered Buckingham.

"Aye; my former occupation of a soldier"; and Hart's sword sprang from its 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 fas.h.i.+on. "A small difference of opinion; naught else."

"Between friends," replied Nell, reprovingly.

"By the G.o.ds," 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 lords.h.i.+p, with the air of a conqueror, "the booty cannot be amicably distributed."

"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 conviction, 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 lords.h.i.+p, hotly. He caught the quick gleam in Nell's eyes and hesitated. "I mean," he subst.i.tuted, apologetically, "Master Hart--labours under the misapprehension that you sup with him to-night."

"Nell," a.s.serted the manager, defensively, "it is his lords.h.i.+p who suffers from the delusion that the first actress of England sups with him to-night."