 CHAPTER XII of the Nest of the Sparrowhawk by Emma Orksy. A woman's heart. It is difficult, perhaps, to analyze rightly the feelings and sensations of a young girl when she is literally being swept off her feet in a whirlpool of passion and romance. Some few years later, when Lady Sue wrote those charming memoirs which are such an interesting record of her early life, she tried to note with faithful accuracy what was the exact state of her mind when three months after her first meeting with Prince Amade de Orleans, she plighted her troth to him and promised to marry him in secret and in defiance of her guardian's more than probable opposition. Her sentiments with regard to her mysterious lover were somewhat complex and undoubtedly she was too young, too inexperienced then to differentiate between enthusiastic interest in a romantic personality and real, lasting, passionate love for a man as apart from any halo of romance which might be attached to him. When she was a few years older, she avirred that she could never have really loved her prince because she always feared him. Hers, therefore, was not the perfect love that casteth out fear. She was afraid of him in his ardent moods almost as much as when he allowed his unbridled temper free reign. Whenever she walked through the dark baskets of the park on her way to a meeting with her lover, she was invariably conscious of a certain trepidation of all her nerves, a wonderment as to what he would say when she saw him, how he would act, whether child or rave or merely reproach. It was the gentle and pathetic terror of a child before a stern yet much-loved parent, yet she never mistrusted him. Perhaps because she had really never seen him, only in outline, half-wrapped in shadows or merely silhouetted against a weirdly lighted background, his appearance had no tangible reality for her. She was in love with an ideal, not with a man. He was merely the mouthpiece of an individuality which was of her own creation. Added to all this, there was the sense of isolation. She had lost her mother when she was a baby. Her father fell at Nesby. She herself had been an only child, left helplessly stranded when the civil war dispersed her relations and friends, some into exile, others in splendid revolt within the fastnesses of their own homes, impoverished by pillage and sequestration, rebellious surrounded by spies, watching that opportunity for retaliation which was so slow in coming. Most hither and thither by fate, in spite of, or perhaps because of, her great wealth, she had found a refuge, though not a home, at Acle Court. She had been, of course, too young at the time to understand, rightly, the great conflict between the king's party and the Puritans, but had naturally embraced the cause for which her father's life had been sacrificed, blindly like a child of instinct, not like a woman of thought. Her guardian and Mistress de Chevasse stood for that faction of roundheads at which her father and all her relatives had sneered, even while they were being conquered and oppressed by them. She disliked them both from the first, and chafed at the parsimonious habits of the house, which stood in such glaring contrast to the easy lavishness of her own luxurious home. Fortunately for her, her guardian avoided, rather than sought her company, she met him at meals, and scarcely more often than that, and though she often heard his voice about the house, usually raised in anger or impatience, he was invariably silent and taciturn when she was present. The presence of Richard Lambert, his humble devotion, his wholehearted sympathy, and the occasional moments of conversation which she had with him were the only bright moments in her dull life at the court. And there is small doubt but that the friendship and trust which characterized her feelings towards him would soon have ripened into more passionate love, but for the advent into her life of the mysterious hero, who by his personality, his strange secretive ways, his talk of patriotism and liberty, at once took complete possession of her girlish imagination. She was perhaps just too young when she met Lambert. She had not yet reached that dangerous threshold when girlhood looks from out obscure ignorance into the glaring knowledge of womanhood. She was a child when Lambert showed his love for her by a thousand little simple acts of devotion and by the mute adoration expressed in his eyes. Lambert drew her towards the threshold by his passionate love and held her back within the refuge of innocent girlhood by the sincerity and exultation of his worship. With the first word of vehement unreasoning passion, the mysterious prince dragged the girl over that threshold into womanhood. He gave her no time to think, no time to analyze her feelings. He rushed her into a torrent of ardor and of excitement in which she never could pause in order to draw breath. Tonight she had promised to marry him secretly to surrender her self-body and soul to this man whom she hardly knew, whom she had never really seen. She felt neither joy nor remorse, only a strange sense of agitation and unnatural and morbid impatience to see the end of the next few days of suspense. For the first time since she had come to Eichel and encountered the kindly sympathy of Richard Lambert, she felt bitterly angered against him when, having parted from the prince at the door of the pavilion, she turned to walk back towards the house and came face to face with the young man. A narrow path led through the trees from the ha-ha to the gate, and Richard Lambert was apparently walking along aimlessly in the direction of the pavilion. I came hoping to meet your ladyship and to escort you home. The night seems very dark. He explained simply in answer to a sudden, haughty stiffening of her young figure, which he could not help but notice. I was taking a stroll in the park. She rejoined coldly. The evening is sweet and balmy, but I have no need of escort, Master Lambert. I thank you. It is late, and I would wish to go indoors alone. It is indeed late, gracious lady, he said gently, and the park is lonely at night. Will you not allow me to walk beside you as far as the house? But somehow his insistence, his very gentleness struck a jarring note for which she herself could not have accounted. Was it the contrast between two men, which unaccountably sent a thrill of disappointment almost of apprehension through her heart? She was angry with Lambert, bitterly angry, because he was kind and gentle and long-suffering, whilst the other was violent, even brutal at times. I must repeat, Master, that I have no need of your escort, she said haughtily. I have no fear of marauders, nor yet of prowling beasts. And for the future I should be grateful to you, she added, conscious of her own cruelty, determined, nevertheless, to be remorselessly cruel, if you were to cease that system which you have adopted of late, that of spying on my movements. Buying? The word had struck him in the face like a blow, and she, womanlike, with that strange impulsive temperament of hers, was not at all sorry that she had hurt him. Yet surely he had done her no wrong, save by being so different from the other man, and by seeming to belittle that other in her sight against her will and his own. I am grieved, believe me, she said coldly, if I seem unkind, but you must see for yourself, good Master, that we cannot go on as we are doing now. Whenever I go out, you follow me. When I return, I find you waiting for me. I have endeavored to think kindly of your actions, but if you value my friendship as you say you do, you will let me go my way in peace. Nay, I humbly beg your ladyships gracious forgiveness, he said, if I have transgressed, it is because I am blind to all save your ladyships, future happiness, and at times the thought of that adventurer is more than I can bear. You do yourself no good, Master Lambert, by talking thus to me of the man I love and honour beyond all things in this world. You are blind and see not things as they are, blind to the merits of one who is as infinitely above you as the stars. But, nevertheless, I waste my breath again. I have no power to convince you of the grievous error which you commit, but if you cared for me as you say you do, if I cared, he murmured, with a pathetic emphasis on that little word if. As a friend, I mean, she rejoined still cold, still cruel, still womanlike in that strange, inexplicable desire to wound the man who loved her. If you care for me as a friend, you will not throw yourself any more in the way of my happiness. Now you may escort me home, and you wish, this is the last time that I shall speak to you as a friend, in response to your petty attacks on the man whom I love. Henceforth you must choose, Twixt, his friendship, and my enmity. And without vouchsafing him another word or look, she gathered her cloak more closely about her, and walked rapidly away along the narrow path. He followed with head bent, meditating, wondering, wondering. CHAPTER XIII of the Nest of the Sparrow-Hawk by Emma Orksy. An idea. The triumph was complete, but, of a truth, the game was waxing dangerous. Lady Sue Aldmarsh had promised to marry her prince. She would keep her word of that Sir Marmaduke was firmly convinced. But there would of necessity be two or three days delay, and every hour added to the terrors the certainty of discovery. There was a watchdog at Sue's heels, stern, alert, unyielding. Richard Lambert was probing the secret of the mysterious prince, with the unerring eye of the disappointed lover. The meeting tonight had been terribly dangerous, Sir Marmaduke knew that Lambert was lurking somewhere in the park. At present even the remotest inkling of the truth must still be far from the young man's mind. The whole scheme was so strange, so daring, so foreign to the simple ideas of the Quaker bread lad, that its very boldness had defied suspicion. But the slightest mischance now, a meeting at the door of the pavilion, an altercation, face to face, eye to eye, and Richard Lambert would be on the alert. His hatred would not be so blind, nor yet so clumsy, as that of his brother, the blacksmith. There is no spy so keen in all the world as a jealous lover. This had been the prince's first meeting with Sue since that memorable day, when the secret of their clandestine love became known to Lambert. Sir Marmaduke knew well that it had been fraught with danger, that every future meeting would wax more and more perilous still, and that the secret marriage itself, however carefully and secretively planned, would scarcely escape the prying eyes of the young man. The unmasking of Prince Amidae de Orleans, before Sue had become legally his wife, was a possibility which Sir Marmaduke dared not even think of, lest the very thought should drive him mad. Once she was his wife, well, let her look to herself. The marriage tie would be a binding one. He would see to that, and her fortune should be his, even though he had won her by a lie. He had staked his very existence on the success of his scheme. Lady Sue's fortune was the one aim of his life. For it he had worked and striven and lied. He would not even contemplate a future without it, now that his plans had brought him so near the goal. He had one faithful ally, though not a powerful one, in Aditha, who, lured by some vague promises of his, desperate to, as regarded her own future, had chosen to throw in her lot wholeheartedly with his. He was closeted with her on the following day in the tiny with-drying room, which leads out of the hall at Acle Court. When he had stolen into the house in the small hours of the morning, he had seen Richard Lambert leaning out of one of the windows which gave upon the park. It seemed as if the young man must have seen him when he skirted the house, for though there was no moonlight, this summer's night was singularly clear. That Lambert had been on the watch, spying, as Sir Marmaduke said, with a bitter oath of rage, was beyond a doubt. Aditha, too, was uneasy. She thought that Lambert had purposely avoided her the whole morning. I lingered in the garden for as long as I could, she said to her brother-in-law, watching with keen anxiety his restless movements to and fro in the narrow room. I thought Lambert would keep within doors if he saw me about. He did not actually see you, Marmaduke, did he? She queried with ever-growing disquietude. No, not face to face, he replied curtly. I contrived to avoid him in the park, and kept well within the shadows when I saw him spying through the window. Curse him, he added, with savage fury. Curse him for a meddlesome spying cur. The whole thing is becoming vastly dangerous, she sighed. Yet it must last for another few weeks, at least. I know, and Lambert is a desperate enemy. He dogs, sues, footsteps. He will come upon you one day when you are alone, or with her he will provoke a quarrel. I know, I know, he retorted impatiently, tis no use recapitulating the many evil contingencies that might occur. I know that Lambert is dangerous. Damn him! Would to God I could be rid of him, somehow. You can dismiss him, she suggested. Pay him his wages, and send him about his business. What were the use? He would remain in the village, in his brother's cottage, may have with more time on his hands for his spying work. He would dog the wenches' steps more jealously than ever. No, no, he added, whilst he cast a quick, furtive look at her, a look which somehow caused her to shiver with apprehension more deadly than heretofore. That's not what I want, he said significantly. What's to be done, she murmured. What's to be done? I must think, he rejoined harshly. But we must get that love-sick youth out of the way. Him and his errors of providence in disguise, something must be done to part him from the wench effectually and completely, something that would force him to quit this neighborhood forever if possible. She did not reply immediately, but fixed her large dark eyes upon him, silently for a while. Then she murmured, if I only knew. Knew what? If I could trust you, Marmaduke? He laughed, a harsh, cruel laugh, which graded upon her ear. We know too much of one another, my dear Aditha, not to trust each other. My whole future depends on you. I am penniless. If you marry Sue, I can provide for you, he interrupted roughly. What can I do now? My penury is worse than yours. So, my dear, if you have a plan to propound for the furtherance of my schemes, I pray you, do not let your fear of the future prevent you from lending me a helping hand. A thought crossed my mind, she said eagerly, the thought of something which would effectually force Richard Lambert to quit this neighborhood forever. What were that? Disgrace. Disgrace, he exclaimed. I, you are right, something mean, paltry, despicable, something that would make her gracious ladyship turn away from him in disgust, and would force him to go away from here forever. He looked at her closely, scrutinizing her face, trying to read her thoughts. A thought crossed your mind, he demanded, peremptorily, what is it? The house in London, she murmured. You are not afraid? Oh, she said, with a careless shrug of the shoulders, the protector's spies are keen. He urged, eager to test her courage, her desire to help him. They'll scarce remember me after two years. Their memory is keen, and the new laws doubly severe. We'll be cautious. How can you let your usual clients know they are dispersed? Oh, no, my Lord Walerton is as keen as ever, and Sir James Overbury would brave the devil for a night at hazard, a message to them, and we'll have a crowd every night. Tis well thought on, Aditha, he said approvingly, but we must not delay. Will you go to London tomorrow? And you approve. I, you can take the dover-coach, and be in town by nightfall. Then write your letters to my Lord Walerton and Sir James Overbury. Get a serving wench from Ulverstones in the strand, and ask the gentlemen to bring their own men, for the sake of greater safety, they'll not refuse. Refuse, she said, with a light laugh. Oh, no. Today, being Tuesday, you should have your first evening entertainment on Friday. Everything could be ready by then. Oh, yes. Very well then. On Friday, I, too, will arrive in London, my dear Aditha, escorted by my secretary, Master Richard Lambert, and together we will call and pay our respects at your charming house in Bath Street. I will do my share. You must do yours, Marmaduke. Endicott will help you. He is keen and clever, and if Lambert but takes a card in his hand, nay, he will take the card's mine oath on that. You do but arrange it all with Endicott. And, Marmaduke, I entreat you, she urged, now with sudden earnestness, I entreat you to be aware of my Lord Protector's spies. Think of the consequences for me. I, he said roughly, laughing that wicked cruel laugh of his, which damped her eagerness, and struck chill terror into her heart. I, the whipping post for you, fair Aditha, for keeping a gaming house. What of a truth I need not urge you to be cautious? Probably at this moment she would have given worlds had she possessed them, if she could, but have disassociated herself from her brother-in-law's future altogether. Though she was an empty-headed, brainless kind of woman, she was not by nature a wicked one. Necessity had driven her into linking her fortunes with those of Sir Marmaduke, and he had been kind to her when she was in deep distress. But for him she would probably have starved, for her beauty had gone, and her career as an actress had been, for some inexplicable reason, quite suddenly cut short, whilst a police raid on the gaming house over which she presided had very nearly landed her in a convict's cell. She had escaped severe punishment then, chiefly because Cromwell's laws against gambling were not so rigorous at the time as they had since become. Also, because she was able to plead ignorance of them, and because of the status of first offense. Therefore she knew quite well what she risked, through the scheme which she had so boldly propounded to Sir Marmaduke. Dire disgrace and infamy, if my lord protector spies once more came upon the game-sters in her house, unawares, utter social ruin and worse, yet she risked it all in order to help him. She did not love him, nor had she any hopes that he would of his own free will do more than give her a bare pittance for her needs once he had secured Lady Sue's fortune. But she was shrewd enough to reckon that the more completely she was mixed up in his nefarious projects, the more absolutely forced would he be to accede to her demands later on. The word blackmail had not been invented in those days, but the deed itself existed, and what Aditha had in her mind when she risked ostracism for Sir Marmaduke's sake was something very akin to it. But he in the meanwhile had thrown off his dejection. He was full of eagerness, of anticipated triumph now. The rough idea, which was to help him in his schemes, had originated in Aditha's brain, but already he had elaborated it, had seen in the plan a means not only of attaining his own ends with regard to Sue, but also of reeking a pleasing vengeance on the man who was trying to frustrate him. I pray you, be of good cheer, fair Aditha, he said quite gaily. Your plan is good and sound, and me seems as if the wenches' fortune were already within my grasp. Within our grasp you mean Marmaduke, she said significantly. Our grasp, of course, gracious lady, he said with a marked sneer, which she affected to ignore. What is mine is yours. Am I not tied to the strings of your curdle by lasting bonds of infinite gratitude? I will start tomorrow, then, by chase to Dover and thence by coach, she said coldly, taking no heed of his irony. Twerbast, you did not assume your romantic role again, until after your own voyage to London, you can give me some money, I presume. I can do nothing with an empty purse. You shall have the whole contents of mine, gracious Aditha, he said blandly, some ten pounds in all, until the happy day when I can place half a million at your feet. The House in London It stood about midway down an unusually narrow, by street, off the strand. A tumbled-down archway, leaning to one side, like a lame hen, gave access to a dark passage, dank with moisture, whereon the door of the house gave some eighteen feet up on the left. The unpaved street, undrained and unutterably filthy, was ankle-deep in mud, even at the close of this hot August day. Down one side, a long blank wall, stone-built and green with mildew, presented an unbroken frontage. On the other, the row of houses, with doors perpetually barred, and windows whereon dust and grit had formed effectual curtains against prying eyes, added to the sense of loneliness, of insecurity, of unknown dangers lurking behind that crippled archway, or beneath the shadows of the projecting eaves, once the perpetual drip-drip of soot water came as a note of melancholy desolation. From all the houses the plaster was peeling off in many places, a prey to the inclementies of London winters, all presented gray facades with an air of eeriness about their few windows flush with the outside wall, at one time painted white, no doubt, but now of uniform dinginess with the rest of the plaster work. There was a grim hint about the whole street of secret meetings and of unavailable deeds done under cover of isolation and of darkness, whilst the great crooked mouth of the archway disclosing the blackness and gloom of the passage beyond suggested the lair of human wild beasts who only went about in the night. As a rule, but few passers-by availed themselves of this short and narrow cut down to the riverside. Nathlas, the unarmed citizen, was scared by these dank and dreary shadows, whilst the city watchman, mindful of his own safety, was want to pass the mean street by. Only my Lord protectors knew police patrol, fresh to its onerous task, solemnly marched down it, once in twenty-four hours, keeping shoulder to shoulder, looking neither to right nor left, thankful when either issue was once more within sight. But in this same evening, in August 1657, it seemed as if quite a number of people had business in Bath Street off the strand. At any rate, this was especially noticeable after St. Mary's had struck the hour of nine, when several cloaked and hooded figures slipped, one after another, some singly, others in groups of two or three, into the shadow of the narrow lane. They all walked in silence and did not greet one another as they passed, some cast from time to time, furtive looks behind them. But every one of these evening prowlers seemed to have the same objective, for as soon as they reached the crippled archway, they disappeared within the gloom of its yawning mouth. Anon, when the police patrol had gone by, and was lost in the gloom, there where Bath Street debouches on the riverbank, two of these heavily cloaked figures walked rapidly down from the strand, and like the others, slipped quickly under the archway, and made straight for the narrow door on the left of the passage. This door was provided with a heavy bronze knocker, but strangely enough the newcomers did not avail themselves of its use, but wrapped on the wooden panels with their knuckles, giving three successive wraps at regular intervals. They were admitted almost immediately, the door seemingly opening of itself, and they quickly stepped across the threshold. Within the house was just as dark and gloomy as it was without, and as the two visitors entered a voice came from out the shadows, and said in a curious monotone, and with strange irrelevance, the hour is late, and Twillby later still replied one of the newcomers. Yet the cuckoo, hath not called, retorted the voice, nor is the ferret on the prowl, was the enigmatic reply, whereupon the voice speaking in more natural tones added sententiously two flights of steps, and where the seventeenth step on the first flight, door on the left, two wraps, then three. Thank you, friend, rejoined one of the newcomers. It is pleasant to feel that so faithful a watch guards the entrance of this palace of pleasure, whereupon the two visitors, who of a truth must have been guided either by instinct or by intimate knowledge of the place, for not a gleam of light illumined the entrance hall, groped their way to a flight of stone stairs, which led in a steep curve to the upper floors of the house. A rickety banister, which gave ominously under the slightest pressure, helped to guide the visitors in this utter darkness. But obviously the warning uttered by that mysterious, challenging voice below was not superfluous. For having carefully counted sixteen steps in an upward direction, the newcomers came to a halt, and feeling their way forward now with uttermost caution, their feet met a yawning whole, which had soon caused a serious accident to a stranger who had ventured thus far in ignorance of pitfalls. A grim laugh, echoed by a lighter one, showed that the visitors had encountered only what they had expected, and after this brief episode they continued their journey upwards with a firmer sense of security. A smoky oil lamp on the first floor landing guided their footsteps by casting a flickering light on the narrow stairway, whereon slime and filth crept unchecked through the broken crevices between the stones. But now, as they advanced, the silence seemed more broken. A distinct hum, as of many voices, was soon perceptible, and anon a shrill laugh, followed by another, more deep in tone, and echoed by others, which presently died away in the distance. By the time the two men had reached the second floor landing, these many noises had become more accentuated, also more distinct, still muffled and subdued, as if proceeding from behind heavy doors, but nevertheless obvious as the voices of men and women in lively converse. The newcomers gave the distinctive raps prescribed by their first mentor on the thick panels of a solid oak door on their left. The next moment the door itself was thrown open from within, a flood of light burst forth upon the gloomy landing from the room beyond. The babble of many voices became loud and clear, and as the two men stood for a moment, beneath the lintel, a veritable chorus of many exclamations greeted them from every side. Wallerton beat Gad, and Overbury, too, how late ye come, we thought ye'd fallen a victim to knolls, myrmidons. It was, of a truth, a gay and merry company that stood and moved, chatted and laughed, within the narrow confines of that small second floor room in the gloomy house in Bath Street. The walls themselves were dingy and bare, washed down with some grayish color, which had long since been defaced by the grime and dust of London. Thick curtains of a nondescript hue fell in straight folds before each window, and facing these there was another door, double-paneled, which apparently led to an inner room. But the place itself was brilliantly illuminated with many wax candles set in chandeliers. These stood on the several small tables which were dotted about the room. These tables covered with green bays and a number of chairs of various shapes and doubtful solidity were the only furniture of the room. But in an arched recess in the wall, a plaster figure holding a cornucopia from whence fell in thick profusion, the plaster presentiments of the fruits of this earth stood on an elevated pedestal which had been draped with crimson velvet. The goddess of fortune with a broken nose and a posity of fingers dominated the brilliant assembly from the height of her crimson throne. Her head had been crowned with a tall, peaked, modest beaver hat from which a purple feather rakishly swept over the goddess's left ear. An ardent devotee had deposited a copper coin in her extended, thumbless hand, whilst another had fixed a row of candle stumps at her feet. There was nothing visible in this brilliantly lighted room of the sober modes to which the eye of late had become so accustomed. Silken doublets of bright and even garish colors stood out in bold contrast against the gray monotone of the walls and hangings. Fantastic buttons, tags and laces, gorgeously embroidered cuffs and collars edged with priceless, mechlin or dalencon. Bunches of ribbons at knee and wrists, full para-wigs and over wide boot-hose tops were everywhere to be seen, whilst the clink of swords against the wooden boards and frequent volleys of loudly spoken French oaths testified to the absence of those puritanic fashions and customs which had become the general rule even in London. Some of the company sat in groups round the green-topped tables whereon cards or dice and heaps of gold and smaller coins lay in profusion. Others stood about watching the games or chatting to one another. Mostly men they were, some old, some young, but there were women too, women in showy curdles with bare shoulders showing well above the culvertine kerchief and faces wherein every line had been obliterated by plentiful dobs of cosmetics. They moved about the room from table to table, laughing, talking, making comments on the games as these proceeded. The men apparently were all intent either as actual participants or merely as spectators upon a form of amusement which his highness, the Lord Protector, had condemned as wanton and contrary to law. The newcomers soon divested themselves of their immense dark cloaks and they too appeared in showy apparel of silk and satin with tiny bows of ribbons at the ends of the long curls which fell both sides of their faces and with enormous frills of lace inside the turned over tops of their boots. Lord Walerton quite straddled in his gait so wide were his boot tops and there was an extraordinary maze of tags and ribbons around the edge of Sir James Overbury's breeches. Make your game, gentlemen, make your game, said the latter as he advanced further into the room and his tired sleepy eyes brightened at the sight of the several tables covered with cards and dice, the guttering candles, the mountains of gold and small coin scattered on the green bay's tops. Pardew, but tis a sight worth seeing after the ugly sour faces one meets in town these days, he added, gleefully rubbing his beringed hands one against the other. But where is our gracious hostess? added Lord Walerton, a melancholy-looking young man with pale colored eyes and lashes and a narrow chest. You are thrice welcome, my lord, said Editha de Chivas, whose elegant figure now detached itself from amongst her guests. She looked very handsome in her silken curdle of a brilliant greenish hue, lace primer and high-heeled shoes, relics of her theatrical days. Her head was adorned with the bunches of false curls, which the modest hairdressers were trying to introduce. The plentiful use of cosmetics had obliterated the ravages of time and imparted a youthful appearance to her face, whilst excitement, not unmixed with apprehension, lent a bright glitter to her dark eyes. Lord Walerton and Sir James Overbury lightly touched with their lips the hand which she extended to them. Their bow, too, was slight, though they tossed their curls as they bent their heads in the most approved French fashion. But there was a distinct note of insolence not altogether unmixed with irony in the freedom with which they had greeted her. I met de Chivas in town today, said Lord Walerton, over his shoulder, before he mixed with the crowd. Yes, he will be here tonight. She rejoined. Sir James Overbury also made a casual remark, but it was evident that the intention and purpose of these gay gentlemen was not the courteous entertainment of their hostess. Like so many men of all times and all nations in this world, they were ready enough to enjoy what she provided for them, the illicit pastime which they could not get elsewhere, but they despised her for giving it them, and cared not for the heavy risks she ran in keeping up this house for their pleasure. END OF CHAPTER XIV CHAPTER XV OF THE NEST OF THE SPARROHAWK by Emma Orksy. This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. Recording by Dion Giants, Salt Lake City, Utah. A GAME OF PRIMERO. At a table in the immediate center of the room, a rotund gentleman in doublet and breeches of cinnamon-brown taffeta and voluminous lace cuffs at the wrists was presiding over a game of Spanish primero. A simple game enough, not difficult of comprehension, yet vastly exciting if one may form a judgment of its qualities through watching the faces of the players. The rotund gentleman dealt a card face downwards to each of his opponents, who then looked at their cards and staked on them by pushing little piles of gold or silver forward. Then the dealer turned up his own card and gave the amount of the respective stakes to those players whose cards were of higher value than his own, whilst sweeping all other monies to swell his own pile. A simple means for Soothe of getting rid of any superfluity of cash. Art winning Endicott queried Lord Walterton as he stood over the other man, looking down on the game. Endicott shrugged his fat shoulders and gave an enigmatic chuckle. I pay king and ace only, he called out imperturbably, as he turned up a queen. Most of the stakes came to swell his own pile, but he passed a handful of gold to a hollow-eyed youth who sat immediately opposite to him and who clutched at the money with an eager, trembling grasp. You have all the luck tonight, Seagrave, he said, with an oily smile directed at the winner. Make your game, gentlemen, he added almost directly as he once more began to deal. I pay nave upwards, he declared, turning up the ten of clubs. Mine is the ten of hearts, quote one of the players. Ties pay the bank, quote Endicott, imperturbably. Mine is a queen, said Seagrave, in a hollow tone of voice. Endicott, with a comprehensive oath, threw the entire pack of cards into a distant corner of the room. A fresh pack, mistress, he shouted peremptorily. Then, as an overdressed, florid woman with high, bull-head fringe and old-fashioned Spanish farthingale, quickly obeyed his behest. He said with a coarse laugh, fresh cards may break master Seagrave's luck and improve yours, Sir Michael. Before this round begins, said Sir James Overbury, who was standing close behind Lord Walterton, also watching the game, I will bet you, Walterton, that Seagrave wins again. Done with you, replied the other, and I'll back mine own opinion by taking a hand. The florid woman brought him a chair, and he sat down at the table as Endicott once more began to deal. Five pounds that Seagrave wins, said Overbury. A queen, said Endicott, turning up his card. I pay king and ace only. Everyone had to pay the bank, for all turned up low cards. Seagrave alone had not yet turned up his. Well, what is your card, Master Seagrave? queried Lord Walterton lightly. An ace, said Seagrave, simply displaying the ace of hearts. No good betting against the luck, said young Walterton lightly, as he handed five sovereigns over to his friend. Moreover, it spoils my system. Ye play Primero on a system, quotes Sir Michael Isherwood in deep amazement. Yes, replied the young man, I have played on it for years, and it is infallible, upon my honor. In the meanwhile, the doors leading to the second room had been thrown open, serving men and women, advanced carrying trays on which were displayed glasses and bottles filled with runnish wine and Spanish canary and muskadel, also buttered ale and mead and hypocrites for the ladies. Aditha did not occupy herself with serving, but the florid woman was most attentive to the guests. She darted in and out between the tables, managing her unwieldy farthing gill with amazing skill. She poured out the wines and offered tarts and dishes of anchovies and of cheese, also strange steaming beverages lately imported into England, called coffee and chocolate. The women liked the latter and sucked it out of mugs, with many little cries of astonishment and appreciation of its sugary nests. The men drank heavily, chiefly of the heady Spanish wines. They ate the anchovies and cheese with their fingers and continually called for more refreshments. Play was of necessity, interrupted. Groups of people eating and drinking congregated round the tables. The men mostly discussed various phases of the game. There was so little else for idolers to talk about these days. No comedies or other diversions, neither cock fighting nor bear baiting. And abuse of my Lord Protector and his rigorous disciplinary laws had already become stale. The women talked, dressed and cofure the new puffs, the fanciful pinners. But at the center table, Seagrave still sat, refusing all refreshment, waiting with obvious impatience for the ending of this unwelcome interval. When first he found himself isolated in the crowd, he had counted over with febrile eagerness the money which lay in a substantial heap before him. Saved, he muttered between his teeth, speaking to himself like one who was dreaming. Saved, thank God, two hundred and fifty pounds, only another fifty, and I'll never touch these cursed cards again. Only another fifty. He buried his face in his hands. The moisture stood out in heavy drops on his forehead. He looked all round him with ever-growing impatience. My God, why don't they come back? Another fifty pounds, and I can put the money back before it has been missed. Oh, why don't they come back? Quite a tragedy expressed in those few muttered words in the trembling hands, the damp forehead, money taken from an unsuspecting parent, guardian, or master, witch. What matter? A tragedy of ordinary occurrence, even in those days when social inequalities were being abolished by act of parliament. In the meanwhile, Lord Walterton, halting of speech, insecure of foothold after his third bumper of heady sack, was explaining to Sir Michael Isherwood the mysteries of his system for playing the noble game of Primero. It is sure to break the bank in time, he said confidently. I am forgoing to Paris, where play runs high, and need not be carried on in this whole and corner fashion, to suit cursed puritanical ideas. Tell me your secret, Walterton, urged worthy Sir Michael, whose broad shropshire acres were heavily mortgaged after the raping and pillage of civil war. Well, I can but tell you part, my friend rejoined the other, yet it is passing simple. You begin with one golden guinea, and lose it, then you put up two, and lose again. Passing simple, assented Sir Michael ironically, but after that you put up four guinea's, and lose it. Yay, yay, perhaps you lose it, but then you put up eight guinea's, and when, whereupon you are just as you were before. And with a somewhat unsteady hand, the young man raised a bumper to his lips, whilst eyeing Sir Michael with the shifty and inquiring eye peculiar to the intoxicated. Me seems that if you but abstain from playing altogether, quote Sir Michael impatiently, the result would still be the same, and suppose you lose the eight guinea's, what then? Oh, tis vastly simple, you put up sixteen, but if you lose that, put up thirty-two. But if you have not thirty-two guinea's to put up, urged Sir Michael, who was obstinate, nay, then my friend, said Lord Walterton, with a laugh which soon broke into an ominous hiccup, ye must not in that case play upon my system. Well said my lord, here interposed Endicott, who had most moderately partaken of a cup of Hippocrates, and whose eye and hand were as steady as here to four. Well said, party, my old friend, the marquee of Swarthmore, used oft to say in the good old days of Goring's club that was better to lose on a system than to play on no system at all. As smart Cavalier, old Swarthmore, assented Sir Michael gruffly, and, nevertheless, a true friend to you, Endicott, he added significantly. Another deal, Master Endicott, said Seagrave, who for the last quarter of an hour had vainly tried to engage the bankholder's attention. Nor was Lord Walterton averse to this, the more the wine got into his head, the more unsteady his hand became. The more strong was his desire to woo the goddess, whose broken-nosed image seemed to be luring him to fortune. You are right, Master Seagrave, he said thickly, we are wasting valuable time. Who knows but what old knoll's police patrol is lurking in this cutthroat alley, Endicott, take the bank again, I'll swear I'll ruin ye ere the moon, which I do not see, disappears down the horizon. Sir Michael, try my system. Overbury, art a-laggard, let us laugh and be merry, tomorrow is the Jewish Sabbath, and after that Puritanic Sunday, after which may have we'll all go to hell, driven thither by my Lord Protector. Wench, another bumper, canary, sack, or muskadel, no thin, runnish wine shall ever defile this throat. Gentlemen, take your places. Mistress Endicott, can none of these wenches discourse sweet music, whilst we do homage to the goddess of fortune, to the tables, to the tables, gentlemen, here's to King Charles, whom may God protect, and all in defiance of my Lord Protector. A Conflict In the hubbub, which immediately followed Lord Walterton's tirade, Aditha de Chivas beckoned to the florid woman, who seemed to be her henchwoman, and drew her aside to a distant corner of the room, where there were no tables nigh, and where the now subdued home of the voices, mingling with the sound of music on virginal and stringed instruments, made a murmuring noise which effectually drowned the talk between the two women. Have you arranged everything, Mistress Endicott, asked Aditha, speaking in a whisper. Everything, Mistress, replied the other. Endicott understands, perfectly said the woman, with perceptible hesitation, but what ails you, Mistress, asked Aditha haughtily, noting the hesitation, and frowning with impatience thereat. My husband thinks the game too dangerous. I was not aware, retorted Mistress de Chivas dryly, that I had desired Master Endicott's opinion on the subject. May help not rejoin the other equally dryly, but you did desire his help in the matter, and he seems unmindful to give it. Why? I have explained. The game is too dangerous. Or the payment insufficient, sneered Aditha, which is it. Both may have assented Mistress Endicott with a careless shrug of her fat shoulders. The risks are very great, tonight especially. Why especially tonight? Because ever since you have been away from it, this house, though we did our best to make it seem deserted, hath been watched. Of that I feel very sure. My Lord protectors watchmen have a suspicion of our evening entertainments, and I doubt not, but that they desire to see for themselves how our guests enjoy themselves these nights. Well, rejoined Aditha lightly, what of that? As you know, we did not play for nigh on twelve months now. Endicott thought it too dangerous, and, tonight, she checked herself abruptly, for Aditha had turned an angry face and flashing eyes upon her. Tonight, said Mistress de Chivas curtly, but peremptorily, what of tonight? I sent you orders from Thanet that I wished the house opened tonight. Lord Walterton, Sir James Overbury, and as many of our usual friends as were in the town, apprised that play would be in full progress, me seems, she added, casting a searching look all round the room, that we have singularly few players. It was difficult, retorted the other, with somewhat more diffidence in her tone, than had characterised her speech before now. Young Squire Delamere committed suicide, you remember him, and Lord Cook killed Sir Humphrey Clinton in a duel after that fracas we had here. When the police patrol well nigh seized upon your person, Squire Delamere's suicide and Sir Humphrey's death caused much unpleasant talk. And old Mistress Delamere, the mother, hath I fear me, still a watchful eye on us, she means to do us lasting mischief. It had been wiser to tarry yet a while. Twelve months is not sufficient for throwing the dust of ages over us and our doings. That is my husband's opinion, and also mine. A scandal such as you propose to have tonight will bring the protector's spies about our ears, his police too may have, and then heaven help us all, Mistress, for you in the country cannot conceive how rigorously are the laws enforced now against gambling, betting, swearing, or any other form of innocent amusement. Why two wenches were whipped at the post by the public hangman only last week, because for sooth they were betting on the winner amongst themselves whilst watching about of Palmel, and you know that John Houthill stood in the pillory for two hours and had both his hands bored through with a hot iron for allowing gambling inside his coffee house. And so, Mistress, you will perceive that I am speaking but in your own interests. Aditha, who had listened to the long tirade with marked impatience, here interrupted the voluble lady with harsh command. I crave your pardon, Mistress, she said, peremptorily. My interests preeminently consist in being obeyed by those whom I pay for doing my behests. Now you and your worthy husband live here rent-free and derive a benefit of ten pounds every time our guests assemble. Well, in return for that I make use of you and your names in case of any unpleasantness with the vigilance patrol, or in case of a scandal which might reach my Lord Protector's ears. Up to this time your positions here have been a sinecure. I even bore the brunt of the last fracas whilst you remained practically scatheless. But tonight I own it. There may be some risks, but of a truth you have been well paid to take them. But if we refuse to take the risks, retorted the other. If you refuse, Mistress said Aditha, with a careless shrug of the shoulders, you and your worthy Lord go back to the gutter where I picked you up. And within three months of that time I should doubtless have the satisfaction of seeing you both at the whipping post for of a truth you would be driven to stealing or some other equally unavailable means of livelihood. We could send you there, said Mistress Endicott, striving to suppress her own rising fury if we but said the word. Nay, you would not be believed, Mistress, but even so I do not perceive how my social ruin would benefit you. Since we are doomed anyhow after this night's work, said the woman sullenly, Nay, but why should you take so gloomy a view of the situation? My Lord Protector hath forgot our existence by now, believe me, and of assurity his patrol hath not yet knocked at our door. And me thinks, Mistress, added Aditha significantly, tis not in your interest to quarrel with me. I have no wish to quarrel with you, quote Mistress Endicott, who apparently had come to the end of her resistance, and no doubt had known all along that her fortunes were too much bound up with those of Mistress de Chevasse to allow of a rupture between them. Then everything is vastly satisfactory, said Aditha, with forced gaiety. I rely on you, Mistress, and on Endicott's undoubted talents to bring this last matter to a successful issue tonight. Remember, Mistress, I rely on you. Perhaps Mistress Endicott would have liked to prolong the argument, as a matter of fact, neither she nor her husband counted the risks of a midnight fracas of great moment to themselves. They had so very little to lose. A precarious existence, based on illicit deeds of all sorts, had rendered them hard and reckless. All they wished was to be well paid for the risks they ran. Neither of them was wholly unacquainted with the pillory, and it held no great terrors for them. There were so many unavowable pleasures these days which required a human cloak to cover the identity of the real transgressor that people like Master and Mistress Endicott prospered vastly. The case of Mistress De Chevasse's London house, wherein the ex-actress had some few years ago established a gaming club together with its various emoluments attached thereunto, suited the Endicott's requirements to perfection. But the woman desired an increase of payment for the special risk she would run tonight, and was sorely vexed that she could not succeed in intimidating Aditha with threats of vigilance patrol and whipping posts. Mistress De Chevasse knew full well that the Endicott's did not intend to quarrel with her, and having threatened rupture unless her commands were obeyed, she had no wish to argue the matter further with her henchwoman. At that moment, too, there came the sound of significant and methodical wrappings at the door. Aditha, who had persistently throughout her discussion with Mistress Endicott, kept one ear open for that sound, heard it even through the buzz of talk. She made a scarcely visible gesture of the hand bidding the other woman to follow her. That gesture was quickly followed by a look of command. Mistress Endicott presumably had finally made up her mind to obey. She shrugged her fat shoulders and followed Mistress De Chevasse as far as the center of the room. Remember that you are the hostess now, murmured Aditha to her as she herself went to the door and opened it. With an affected cry of surprise and pleasure she welcomed Sir Marmadu De Chevasse, who was standing on the threshold, prepared to enter and escorted by his young secretary, Master Richard Lambert. CHAPTER XVII of THE NEST OF THE SPARROHAWK by Emma Orksey 1 or 2 of the men looked up as De Chevasse entered, but no one took much notice of him. Most of those present remembered him from the past few years when, still with pockets well-filled, through having forestalled Lady Sue's maintenance money, he was an habitual frequenter of some of the smart secret clubs in town. But here, just the same as elsewhere, Sir Marmadu was not a popular man, and many there were who had unpleasant recollections of his surly temper and uncouth ways whenever fickle fortune happened not to favor him. Even now he looked sullen and disagreeable, as having exchanged a significant glance with his sister-in-law, he gave a comprehensive nod to the assembled guests, which had nothing in it either of corgeality or of goodwill. He touched Aditha's fingertips with his lips, and then advanced into the room. Here he was met by Mistress Endicott, who had effectually thrown off the last vestige of annoyance and rebellion, for she greeted the newcomer with marked good humor and an encouraging smile. It is indeed a pleasure to see that Sir Marmadu De Chevasse hath not forgot old friends, she said pleasantly. It was passing kind, gracious mistress, he responded, forcing himself to speak naturally and in agreeable tones, to remember an insignificant country bumpkin like myself, and you see I have presumed on your lavish hospitality and brought my young friend, Master Richard Lambert, to whom you extended so gracious an invitation. He turned to Lambert, who a little dazed to find himself in such brilliant company, had somewhat timidly kept close to the heels of his employer. He thought Mistress Endicott vulgar and overdressed the moment he felt bold enough to raise his eyes to hers, but he chided himself immediately for thus daring to criticize his betters. His horizon so far had been very limited, only quite vaguely had he heard of town and court life. The little cottage where dwelt the old Quakeress, who had brought him and his brother up, and the tumble-down, dilapidated house of Sir Marmadu De Chevasse, were the only habitations in which he was intimate. The neighbouring Kentish Squires, Sir Timothy Harrison, Squire Pinchion, and Sir John Boatfield were the only presentations of gentlemen he had ever seen. Sir Marmadu De Chevasse had somewhat curtly given him orders the day before that he was to accompany him to London, whether he himself had to go to consult his lawyer. Lambert had naturally obeyed without murmur, but with vague trepidations at thought of this his first journey into the great town. Sir Marmadu had been very kind, had given him a new suit of grosgram lined with flowered silk, which Lambert thought the richest garment he had ever seen. He was very loyal in his thoughts to his employer, bearing with the latter's violence, and pandering to his fits of ill humor for the sake of the home which Sir Marmadu had provided for him. To Lambert's mind, Sir Marmadu's kindness to him was wholly gratuitous, his own position as secretary being but a sinecure. The young man's readily attributed De Chevasse's interest in himself to innate goodness of heart and desire to help the poor orphan lad. This estimate of his employer's character, Richard Lambert, had not felt any cause to modify. He continued to serve him faithfully, to look after his interests in and around Acle Court to the best of his ability. Above all, he continued to be wholeheartedly grateful. He was so absolutely conscious of the impassable social barrier which existed between himself and the rich daughter of the great Earl of Dover that he never for a moment resented Sir Marmadu's sneers when they were directed against his obvious growing love for Sue. Remember that he had no cause to suspect Sir Marmadu de Chevasse of any nefarious projects or of any evil intentions with regard to himself when he told him that together they would go this night to the house of an old friend, Mrs. Endicott, where they would derive much pleasure and entertainment. They had spent the previous night at the Swan Inn in Fleet Street and the day in visiting the beautiful sites of London which caused the young lad from the country to open wide eyes in astonishment and pleasure. Sir Marmadu had been peculiarly gracious even taking Richard with him to the Frenchman's house in Queen's Head Alley where that curious beverage called coffee was dispensed and where several clever people met and discussed politics in a manner which was vastly interesting to the young man. Then when the evening began to draw in and Lambert thought at high time to go to bed for it was a pity to burn expensive candles longer than was necessary, Sir Marmadu had astonished his secretary by telling him that he must now clean and tidy himself for they would proceed to the house of a great lady named Mistress Endicott, a friend of the ex-Queen Henrietta Maria and a lady of peculiar virtues and saintliness who would give them vast and pleasing entertainment. Lambert was only too ready to obey. Enjoyment came naturally to him beneath his Quaker bringing up, his youth, good health, and pure, naturally noble intellect all craved companionship with its attendant pleasures and joys. He himself could not afterwards have said exactly how he had pictured in his mind the saintly lady, friend of the unhappy Queen, whom he was to meet this night. Certainly Mistress Endicott, with her red face surmounted by masses of curls that were obviously false since they did not match the rest of her hair, was not the ideal paragon of all the virtues, and when he was first made to greet her, a strange unreasoning instinct seemed to draw him away from her, to warn him to fly from this noisy company, from the sight of those many faces all unnaturally flushed, and from the sounds of those strange oaths which greeted his ears from every side. A great wave of thankfulness came over him that his gracious lady, innocent, tender, beautiful Lady Sue, had not come to London with her guardian. Whilst he gazed on the marvels of Westminster Hall and of old St. Paul's, he had longed that she should be near him, so that he might watch the brilliance of her eyes and the glow of pleasure which, of assurity, would have mantled in her cheeks when she was shown the beauties of the great city. But now he was glad, very glad, that Sir Marmaduke had so sternly ordained that she should remain those few days alone at Acle in charge of Mistress Charity and of Master Busy. At the time he had chafed bitterly at his own enforced silence, he would have given all he possessed in the world for the right to warn Sir Marmaduke de Chavasse that a wolf was prowling in the fold under cover of the night. He had seen Lady Sue's eyes brighten at the dictum that she was to remain behind. They told him in eloquent language the joy she felt to be free for two days that she might meet her prince undisturbed. But all these thoughts and fears had fled the moment Lambert found himself in the midst of these people whom he innocently believed to be great ladies and noble gentlemen, friends of his employer, Sir Marmaduke de Chavasse. It seemed to him at once as if there was something here in this room which he would not wish Lady Sue to see. He was clumsy and gauche in his movements as he took the hand which Mistress Endicott extended to him. But he tried to imitate the salute which he had seen his employer give on the flat, not very clean, fingertips of the lady. She was exceedingly gracious to him, saying with great kindness and a melancholy sigh, Ah, you come from the country, Master, so delightful of a truth. Milk for breakfast, eh? You get up at dawn and go to bed at sunset. I know country life well, though alas duty now keeps me in town. But his small wonder that you look so young. He tried to talk to her of the country, for here she had touched on a topic which was dear to him. He knew all about the birds and beasts, the forests and the meadows, and being unused to the art of hypocritical interest he took for real sympathy the ladies vapid exclamations of enthusiasm with which she broke in now and again upon his flow of eloquence. Sir Marmaduke de Chevasse, who was watching the young man with febrile keenness, had the satisfaction to note that very soon Richard began to throw off his bucolic timidity, his latent yet distinctly perceptible disapproval of the company into which he had been brought. He sought out his sister-in-law and drew her attention to Lambert in close conversation with Mrs. Endicott. Is everything arranged, he asked under his breath, everything she replied, no trouble with our henchmen? A little, but they are submissive now. What is the arrangement? Persuade young Lambert to take a hand at Primero. Endicott will do the rest. Who is in the know, he queried, after a slight pause, during which he watched his unsuspecting victim with a deep frown of impatience and of hate. Only the Endicott's she explained, but do you think that he will play, she added, casting an anxious look on her brother-in-law's face? He nodded affirmatively. Yes, he said curtly, I can arrange that as soon as you are ready. She turned from him and walked to the centre-table. She watched the game for a while, noting that young Seagrave was still the winner, and that Lord Walterton was very flushed and excited. Then she caught Endicott's eye, and immediately lowered her lashes, twice in succession. Ventres Saint-Griez swore Endicott with an unmistakable British accent in the French octave, but I'll play no more. The bank is broken, and I have lost too much money. Mr. Seagrave there has nearly cleaned me out, and still I cannot break his luck. He rose abruptly from his chair, even as Mr. Estée Chavasse quietly walked away from the table. But Lord Walterton placed a detaining, though very trembling hand, on the cinnamon-coloured sleeve. Nay, par bleu, ye cannot go like this. Good Master Endicott, he said, speaking very thickly, I want another round or two. Upon my honour I do. I haven't lost nearly all I meant to lose. Ye cannot stop play so abruptly, Master, said Seagrave, whose eyes shone with an unnatural glitter, and whose cheeks were covered with a hectic flush. Ye cannot leave us all in the lurch. Nay, I doubt not, my young friend, quote Endicott gruffly, that you would wish to play all night. You have won all my money, and Lord Walterton's too. And most of mine, added Sir Michael Isherwood, ruefully, why should not Master Seagrave take the bank? Here came in shrill accents from Mistress Endicott, who throughout her conversation with Lambert had kept a constant eye on what went on around her husband's table. He seems the only moneyed man amongst you all, she added with a laugh which graded most unpleasantly on Richard's ear. I will gladly take the bank, said Seagrave eagerly. Party, I care not, who hath the bank, quote Lord Walterton, with the slow emphasis of the inebriated. My system takes time to work, and I stand to lose a good deal, unless, Hick, unless I win. You are not where you were when you began, commented Sir Michael grimly. By God, no, Hick, but tis no matter, give me time. Methinks I saw Sir Marmaduke de Chevasse just now, said Endicott, looking about him. Ah, and here comes our worthy Baronette. He added cheerily, as Sir Marmaduke's closely cropped head, very noticeable in the crowd of periwigs, emerged from amiss the group that clustered round Mistress Endicott, a hand at Primero, Sir. I thank you, no, replied Sir Marmaduke, striving to master his habitual ill-humour, and to speak pleasantly. My luck hath long since deserted me, if it ever visited me at all, a fact of which I grow daily more doubtful. But Ventress St. Grave, ejaculated Lord Walterton, who showed an inclination to become quarrelsome in his cups, we must have someone to take Endicott's place. I cannot work my system, Hick, if so few play. Perhaps your young friend, Sir Marmaduke, suggested Mistress Endicott waving an embroidered handkerchief in the direction of Richard Lambert. No doubt, no doubt rejoined Sir Marmaduke, turning with kindly graciousness to his secretary. Master Lambert, these gentlemen are requiring another hand for their game. I pray you join in with them. I would do so with pleasure, sir, replied Lambert, still unsuspecting, but I fear me I am a complete novice at cards. What is the game? He was vaguely distrustful of cards, for he had oft heard this pastime condemned, as ungodly, by those with whom he had held converse in his early youth. Nevertheless it did not occur to him that there might be anything wrong in a game which was countenanced by Sir Marmaduke de Chivas, whom he knew to be an avowed Puritan, and by the saintly lady who had been the friend of ex-Queen Henrietta Maria. Tis a simple round game, said Sir Marmaduke lightly, you would soon learn. And, said Lambert, diffidently questioning, and eyeing the gold and silver, which lay in profusion on the table, there is no money at stake, of course. Oh, only a little, rejoined Mistress Endicott, a paltry trifle to add zest to the enjoyment of the game. However little it may be, Sir Marmaduke, said Lambert firmly, speaking directly to his employer, I humbly pray you to excuse me before these gentlemen. The three players at the table, as well as the two Endicottes, had listened to this colloquy with varying feelings. Seagrave was burning with impatience. Lord Walterton was getting more and more fractious, whilst Sir Michael Isherwood viewed the young secretary with marked hot tour. At the last word spoken by Lambert, there came from all these gentlemen sundry ejaculations expressive of contempt or annoyance, which caused an ugly frown to appear between Deschevasse's eyes, and a deep blush to rise in the young man's pale cheek. What do you mean? queried Sir Marmaduke harshly. There are other gentlemen here, said Lambert, speaking with more firmness and decision, now that he encountered inimical glances, and felt as if somehow he was on trial before all these people. And I am not rich enough to afford the luxury of gambling. Nay, if that is your difficulty, rejoined Sir Marmaduke, I pray you, good master, to command my purse. You are under my wing tonight, and I will gladly bear the burden of your losses. I thank you, Sir Marmaduke, said the young man, with quiet dignity, and I entreat you once again to, excuse me, I have never staked at cards, either mine own money, or that of others, I would prefer not to begin. Me seems, Hick Deschevasse, that this young friend of yours is a hick damned puritan, came in ever thickening accents from Lord Walterton. I hope, Sir Marmaduke Deschevasse, here interposed Endicott, with much pompous dignity, that your him, your young friend, doth not desire to bring insinuations, doubts, may have against the honour of my house, or of my friends. Nay, nay, good Endicott, said Sir Marmaduke, speaking in tones that were so conciliatory, so unlike his own quarrelsome temper, quick at taking offence, that Richard Lambert could not help wondering what was causing this change. Master Lambert hath no such intention, upon my honour. He is young, and he misunderstands. You see, my good Lambert, he added, once more turning to the young man, and still speaking with unwanted kindness and patience, you are covering yourself with ridicule, and placing me, who am your protector tonight, in a very awkward position. Had I known you were such a gay bee, I would have left you to go to bed alone. Nay, Sir Marmaduke, here came in decisive accents from portly Mistress Endicott, me thinks, to you who misunderstand Master Lambert, he is of assurity an honourable gentleman, and hath no desire to insult me, who have never done him wrong, nor yet my friends, by refusing a friendly game of cards in my house. She spoke very pointedly, causing her speech to seem like a menace, even though the words be tokened gentleness and friendship. Lambert scruples and his desire to please struggled hopelessly in his mind. Mistress Endicott's eye held him silent, even while it urged him to speak. What could he say? Sir Marmaduke, toward whom he felt gratitude and respect, surely would not urge what he thought would be wrong for Lambert, and if a chaste and pure woman did not disapprove of a game of Primero among friends, what right had he to set up his own standard of right or wrong against hers? What right had he to condemn what she approved, to offend his generous employer, and to bring a probrium and ridicule on himself which would of necessity redound against Sir Marmaduke also? Vague instinct still entered a feeble protest, but reason and common sense, and a certain undetermined feeling of what was due to himself socially, poor country bumpkin, fought a hard battle too. I am right, am I not? Good Master Lambert came in dulcet tones from the virtuous hostess that you would not really refuse a quiet game of cards with my friends at my entreaty, in my house, and Lambert with a self-deprecatory sigh and a shrug of the shoulders said quietly, I have no option, gracious Mistress. End of Chapter 17