The Touchstone of Fortune Read online

  CHAPTER V

  THE FIGHT AT THE OLD SWAN

  On the way down to the Bridge, inquisitive, irresistible Nelly drew outof Frances a meagre statement of her case. Although Nelly could not writeher own name, she was excellent at putting two and two together, and onthis occasion quickly reached the conclusion that there was a man whomFrances had good reason to hate, but loved.

  Without suspecting that Roger Wentworth's death bore any relation toFrances's trouble, Nelly soon began asking questions about the tragedy,and learned that Frances had recognized one of the highwaymen. WhenFrances refused in a marked and emphatic manner to describe the manshe had seen, or to speak of him beyond the first mention, Nelly beganagain with her two-and-two problem, and, as the result of her secondcalculation, reached the conclusion that the highwayman Frances hadrecognized and the man she loved and hated were one and the same person.However, Nelly had the good taste to keep the result of her calculationsto herself, and dropped the subject which seemed so distasteful to hercompanion.

  When Frances and Nelly reached the landing at the water stairs just abovethe Bridge, they left their barge and walked up Gracious Street (calledby some Grace Church Street, though, in fact, it should be Grass ChurchStreet) to the Old Swan Tavern on the east side of the street, a littleabove Eastcheap.

  The Old Swan was a picturesque structure, beautiful in its quaintness,sweet in its cleanliness, and lovable in its ancient air of hospitality.Its token, a full-grown swan, was the best piece of sign painting inLondon. Its kitchen was justly celebrated. The old inn was kept by HenryPickering, a man far above his occupation in manner, education, andculture. He had lived many years in France, where he had married a womanof good station, and where his only child, Bettina, whom we called Betty,was born and lived during her early childhood. Pickering's wife died inFrance, and his fortunes failed, so he returned to England, bought theOld Swan, and soon became rich again.

  The Old Swan Tavern must not be confused with the Old Swan wharf andstairs, which were a short distance below the Bridge.

  Neither Frances nor Nelly had ever visited the old tavern before, so,being unacquainted with the private entrance, Nelly marched bravely intothe tap-room and asked Pickering to show them to a quiet dining room.

  Two unescorted ladies of quality taking dinner at even so respectable ahouse as the Old Swan was an adventure well calculated to shock thejudicious, but Nelly did not care a straw for appearances, and Franceshardly knew how questionable the escapade was.

  When Pickering had seated his beautiful guests in the small dining roomadjoining the tap-room, he returned to the bar and sent his daughterBetty to serve them. She was a beautiful girl of eighteen, who hadreturned only a few months before from France, where she had spent threeor four winters in a convent, her summers having been spent with herfather.

  There was no fairer skin nor sweeter face than Betty Pickering's. Theexpression of her great brown eyes, with their arching brows, was sodemure as to give the impression that somewhere back in the shadow oftheir long, thick lashes lurked a fund of laughter and harmless mischiefas charming as it was apparently latent. Her form was of the partridgefashion, though not at all too plump, and her hands, which were white andsoft as any lady's, were small and dimpled at every knuckle. Her littlefeet and ankles--but we shall stop at the ankles.

  Betty was unusually rich in dimples, having one in each cheek and a halfscore or more about her lips and chin whenever she smiled. She was wellaware of the beauty of her dimples and her teeth; therefore, like asensible girl that she was, she smiled a great deal, both from femininepolicy and natural inclination. In short, Bettina was a Hebe in youth andbeauty, and soon after I learned to know her, I learned also that she wasan earthly little angel in disposition. It may appear from the enthusiasmof this description that there was a time in my life when I was in lovewith her. I admit it--desperately in love with her.

  To have Betty's services at the Old Swan was a favor enjoyed only by herfriends and guests of the highest quality. She was not an ordinarybarmaid, though she had friends whom she delighted to honor. Among thesewere Hamilton and myself, we having visited the Old Swan frequently priorto the time of Hamilton's going to France.

  Frances and Nelly had chosen a table in a secluded corner of the privatedining room, and were waiting somewhat impatiently when Betty went in toserve them.

  "Will my ladies eat from table linen--extra, sixpence?" asked Betty,bending her knee in what might have been called a perpendicular courtesy.Had she been sure that her customers were of high rank, she would havesaluted them with a low bow, omitting to mention the extra charge for thelinen. But as Frances and Nelly were not escorted by a gentleman, she wasnot sure of their station.

  "Will we eat from table linen?" demanded Nelly, in apparent indignation."Now, damn the girl! Just hear her! From what else, in God's name, hussy,should we eat? From a trough? And mind you, if there is a spot on it aslarge as my smallest finger nail, I'll tear it to shreds!" She winked toFrances, perhaps to show Betty that she was only chaffing, for in all theworld there was no kinder heart than Nelly Gwynn's.

  Betty at once concluded that her guests were great ladies, perhaps fromWhitehall itself, for surely none save ladies of the highest or lowestrank would use the language that came so trippingly on Nelly's tongue. SoBetty made a deep courtesy, smiled, and answered:--

  "Yes, my ladies, it shall be as spotless as a maid of honor's character.It cost five shillings the ell."

  "Is that the best you can do?" demanded Nelly, laughing despite herselfat Betty's reference to the maids of honor. "Never in all my life haveI eaten from anything cheaper than guinea linen, and I know I shallchoke--choke, I tell you! Odds fish! this is terrible!" Then turningto Frances: "But it serves us right, duchess, for leaving the palace."

  "Yes, your Highness," returned Frances. "But you insisted on coming tothe place."

  Betty was almost taken off her feet! A princess and a duchess! So herthird courtesy was nearly to the floor, as she asked:--

  "What will your Highness and your Grace have to eat?"

  "A barrel of oysters, a lobster broiled--make it two lobsters--a dish ofraw turnips, with oil, vinegar, and pepper, a bottle of canary, a bit ofcheese, and a pot of tea. But Lord! I suppose you never heard of tea!It's a new drink, child, recently brought from China."

  "Yes, your Highness," answered Betty, very proud that the Old Swan couldfurnish so new a beverage. "We have some excellent tea of my father's ownimportation."

  "Then fetch it, and in God's name, be quick about it! Doubtless you couldbe quick enough in running after a man!" said Nelly.

  "In running away from him if I wanted to catch him," answered Betty,casting down her eyes demurely, as she courtesied and left to give theorder in the kitchen.

  Nelly's love of fun brought trouble before the dinner was over.

  When Betty left her guests, she went to her father in the tap-room andtold him that a princess and a duchess had honored his house, whereuponPickering began to swell with pride. As friends dropped in from time totime, he informed them that a princess and a duchess were waiting fortheir dinner in the small dining room, and followed up the extraordinaryannouncement in each case by asking proudly:--

  "Show me another tavern this side of Westminster that entertains guestsof like rank. If they were to drop into the Dog's Head, old Robbins would_drop_ dead. And on what would he serve them? I would wager a jacobus toa farthing that he hasn't a tablecloth of real linen in his house, and asfor forks, why, he never heard of them. Your fingers and a knife at theDog's Head! The Old Swan serves its guests of high rank with fiveshilling linen and silver forks. Silver, mind you, hammered fromunalloyed coin by Backwell himself. If any of you happen to be at theDog's Head, drop a hint that you saw a princess and a duchess in theOld Swan's small dining room."

  If a guest doubted Pickering's statement concerning the quality of hisguests, he led them to the door of the small dining room, where thesceptic was relieved of his doubts, for Frances an
d Nelly looked theirassumed parts convincingly.

  Soon after Nelly's dinner had been served, a handsome gentleman enteredthe tap-room, sat down at a table, and tapped with his sword-hilt forservice. His doublet and trunks of rich velvet, his broad beaver hat withits long flowing plume, and his silken hose, had all been elegant intheir good days, but now they were stained, shabby, and almost threadbarein spots. His shoe buckles showed vacant jewel holders, and his swordhilt was without a precious stone, all giving evidence that their ownerhad been dealing with pawnbrokers. He was shabby from head to feet,though he bore himself with the convincing manner of a gentleman.

  Pickering sent the barboy to wait on the newcomer, but the boy returnedimmediately and whispered:--

  "Ye made a mistake in sending me, master. Better send one of the maids orMistress Betty. The gentleman is more than he seems to be."

  "What did he say?" asked Pickering.

  "'Ee didn't say nothing," answered the boy. "'Ee looked at me."

  At that moment Betty came in, and Pickering nodding toward the stranger,she went to serve him. When she stopped by his table, she made aperpendicular courtesy, and asked:--

  "How may I serve you, sir?"

  "You may bring me a bit of cheese, Betty, and a mug of your father'sfamous beer," said the gentleman, giving his order modestly.

  "Very well, sir," returned Betty, making another stiff courtesy to "a bitof cheese and a mug of beer." But while her knee was bent, she caught aglimpse of the man's face beneath the drooping brim of his hat, and thestiff courtesy instantly changed to a bow as she exclaimed softly:--

  "Ah, Master Hamilton, I did not know you. We have not seen you at the OldSwan this many a day, and--and you are very much changed, sir."

  "You are not changed, Betty, unless you have grown prettier, if that bepossible," returned George Hamilton.

  "Thank you, Master Hamilton," answered Betty, laughing softly, andbringing her dimples and teeth into fine display. With all her profoundrespect for the high rank of her lady guests, Betty's smiles, whilewaiting on handsome George, were of a far rarer quality than those givento rank and station in the small dining room. In Hamilton's case, shecould not suppress the smile nor restrain the soft laugh incident to hersurprise. The warm glow in her eyes and her murmured words of modestwelcome came of their own accord, because she was kind of heart and asbewitching a bit of humanity as one could possibly want to caress.

  At different times I had imagined that Betty was in love with Hamilton,and had suffered strange twinges of jealousy on account of my fear;twinges that surprised and angered me, for my heart had no business goingastray after a barmaid. She had always been kind to me, with a shyfluttering in her manner from which I should have taken comfort had shenot been freer and easier with Hamilton.

  Betty's manner with me should have given me a hint of the way her heartwas tending, even at that early time, but Hamilton was so much morelikely to attract a woman than I, and his manner was so much more offhandand dashing than mine that I thought it impossible for such a girl asBetty to think twice of me while she might have been thinking of him. ButI was wrong, as will unfold later; wrong, greatly to my trouble andsurprise.

  I should be delighted if I could discover the standards whereby womenmeasure men. Ugly John Prigg is adored by a beautiful wife, from whom noother man can win a smile. Stupid little Short possesses a tall rareVenus, and cadaverous Long a bewitching Hebe. Bandy-legged Little Jermyn,of Whitehall, he of the "pop eyes" and the rickets head, he with neithermanner, presence, brains, rank, nor money, save what he steals and begs,is beyond doubt the lady-killer of our court, so what are we to do aboutit all but wonder and "give it up"?

  "While you have changed for the better, if at all," said Hamilton, "Ialso have changed for the better, and sadly for the worse, in somerespects. There is a paradox for you, Betty. I'm better and I'm worse. Doyou know what a paradox is"?

  "I'm not sure, Master Hamilton. Perhaps Lord Monmouth is one," answeredBetty, laughing, and coming so close to the truth that Hamilton concludedshe knew the word. "He has been coming here of late, and has been tryingto make love to me."

  "And succeeding, Betty?" asked George.

  "Ah, no. I've stopped waiting on him. He hasn't money enough to buy theshadow of a smile from me, even though he is the king's son."

  "I commend your discretion, Betty," said George. "But if Monmouth and hisfriends have been coming here, the Old Swan must be having rare company."

  "Yes," returned Betty, with a touch of pride. "A duchess and a princessare now taking dinner in the small dining room. There! You may hear theprincess laughing now! She is a merry one."

  "A princess, say you, Betty?" asked George. "Nonsense! That is NellyGwynn laughing. I should know her laugh in the din of battle."

  "Nelly Gwynn?" cried Betty, joyously. There was not in all England aduchess nor a princess half so great in Betty's opinion as Nelly Gwynn.She was the queen of all London east of Temple Bar, and dearer to theCity's heart than any one else at court.

  George, too, liked Nelly, and when Betty left him to fetch the pot of teafrom the kitchen for the ladies, he determined to go to the privatedining room and see the king's sweetest sweetheart, from whom he knew hewould hear all the news of court, including perhaps a word about Frances.

  Taking his hat from the floor, Hamilton entered the small dining room andhurried toward the princess and the duchess. Frances sat with her backtoward the door, so that she did not see him as he approached, nor did hesee her face. When Nelly saw him she rose hastily, stretched out herhands in welcome, and exclaimed:--

  "Well, well, handsome George, as sure as I'm not a bishop's wife! How areyou, my long-lost love?"

  She stepped forward to meet him, gave him both her hands, stood on tiptoeto be kissed, and when that pleasing operation had been finished, said:--

  "Come with me. I want to present you to my hated rival, the king's latestlove. Mistress Jennings, this is my dangerous friend, Master GeorgeHamilton."

  Nelly's words were my cousin's first warning of Hamilton's presence, andher surprise, nay, her consternation, deprived her, for the moment, ofthe power to think. Hamilton bowed low before my cousin and said:--

  "I have the great pleasure of knowing Mistress Jennings."

  Anger came to Frances's help, and she retorted: "You are mistaken, sir.You have not the pleasure of knowing me, nor have I the humiliation ofknowing you."

  She turned again to her dinner. Nelly whistled in surprise, and Hamiltonsaid: "I beg your pardon." Then turning to Nelly: "I thought I knew theking's new lady love, but it seems I was mistaken. Adieu, MistressGwynn." And turning hastily, he left the room.

  As George was resuming his chair at the table in the tap-room, threeroystering, half-tipsy fellows, wearing the uniform of the King's Guard,entered, flung themselves into chairs at the long table and called loudlyfor brandy. Hamilton did not know any of them, though he knew by theiruniforms and swords that they were in the king's service.

  Soon after the guardsmen were seated, Betty came from the kitchencarrying a pot of hot tea and a bottle of wine for Nelly and Frances. Asshe was passing the newcomers, one of them rose, seized her about thewaist, and tried to kiss her. But the girl belonged, flesh and blood,to the class of women with whom kissing goes strictly by favor, so shedashed the hot tea in the fellow's face and went her way with the bottleof wine. Though the tea was hot, it cooled the fellow's ardor, and he satdown, cursing furiously. Pickering tried to quiet him, saying:--

  "A little less noise, please, gentlemen. A duchess and a princess aredining in the next room."

  "A duchess and a princess?" exclaimed one of the men. "We should like tosee the duchess and the princess that would dine here. By God! A duchessand a princess! Come, gentlemen, let us introduce ourselves."

  Accordingly the three of them made a dash for the door of the smalldining room and entered. Immediately a series of screams came from theprincess and the duchess, announcing that the intruders were introducingthemselves
. Instantly Hamilton drew his sword and hastened to the rescue.When he entered the room he saw one of the men embracing Nelly andanother trying to seize Frances. His first attention was given to the manwith Frances. He struck him with the hilt of his sword, stunning him forthe moment, but the fellow soon recovered, and the three ruffians drewtheir blades.

  Finding himself assailed from all quarters, George made a dash for acorner of the room, where his back and flank were protected. In tellingme of it afterward, Frances said that she and Nelly were so badlyfrightened that they could neither move nor scream. The deafening noiseof the clashing swords, the tramping of the heavy boots on the bare oakfloor, the blasphemous oaths of the drunken ruffians, and the stunningdin of battle almost deprived her of consciousness.

  After a time all that she could see was Hamilton's face behind thecurtain of flashing swords, and all that she could hear, even above thedin, was his heavy breathing. He had thrown off his doublet and wasfighting in his shirt sleeves, desperately, and it seemed hopelessly.Soon the blood began to stream down his face, and the white linen of hisshirt was covered with red blotches.

  No man can stand long against odds of three to one, but, for what seemeda very long time to Frances, Hamilton defended himself gallantly, andseemed to be giving back as much as he received.

  But the fight could not have lasted much longer, and sooner or later,George would have been cut to pieces, had not little Betty entered thefray. No weapon had she, not even a teapot, but she ran bravely in, kneltbehind one of the ruffians, and when an opportunity came, seized him bythe foot, bringing him down to the floor with a thud. Quickly anotherfoot was in Betty's deadly grasp, and another man fell, leaving only oneassailant standing, whom Hamilton soon routed. The two men on the floorattempted to rise, but Betty clung to their feet, and George's swordquieted them.

  When George was satisfied that the ruffians would not try again tointroduce themselves to the duchess and the princess, he wiped his swordon Betty's five shilling table linen, remarking:--

  "I thank you, Betty dear. You came into the fight just in time to save mylife. Another half minute and I should have needed a coffin." He wasbreathing heavily and spoke with great effort.

  When George had sheathed his sword, he started to leave the room withoutspeaking to Frances or Nelly, but before he reached the door, Francescalled out faintly:--

  "Master Hamilton! Please wait, Master Hamilton!"

  For the moment she forgot the cause of her hatred of him, forgot that hehad been implicated in Roger's murder, as she supposed, forgot everythingin all the broad world save her love for him, and that he had just beenat death's door in her defence.

  Hamilton stopped a little short of the door, and Frances ran to him,calling softly: "Oh, sir, wait! Forgive me! I do know you! A moment sinceI did not know you, but now--Oh, I must have made a terrible mistake! Ihave judged you wrongfully. I do know you! I do know you!"

  Hamilton bowed and smiled grimly through the blood which was tricklingdown his face, then standing proudly erect, answered:--

  "Mistress Jennings is mistaken. She does not know me, nor have I thehonor of knowing the king's new favorite."

  Here Betty cut the conversation short by saying: "I'll fetch abarber-surgeon, while father takes you to a room."

  "You'll do nothing of the sort for me," objected Hamilton. "My wounds aremere scratches. I'll go to the pump. It is the only surgeon I shall need.Fetch a barber for the men on the floor there."

  George went to the pump in the courtyard, followed by Betty, after whomcame Nelly and Frances. Betty was proceeding to wash George's wounds,when Nelly offered to take the towel from her hand, but the girl refusedwith a touch of anger, saying:--

  "Please do not interfere, Mistress Gwynn. You and the duchess stood bygaping while he was fighting to protect you. He would have been dead bynow if he had waited for help from either of you. I advise you to leavethe Old Swan, but don't forget to pay your bill to the barboy."

  "Never mind the bill," said Pickering, who was at the pump handle. "Butplease take my daughter's advice and go."

  "Go where you may find guinea linen. Persons of your quality make toomuch trouble at the Old Swan," interposed Betty, who was not in a goodtemper.

  At first Nelly was inclined to resent Betty's sharp words, but in amoment she returned softly:--

  "You're right, girl. You have earned the privilege to scold."

  "And please forgive us," said Frances, to which Betty did not reply.

  "Where are your wounds?" asked Nelly, addressing George. "Off with yourclothes and let us see."

  "Not here, Nelly, not here," he answered, bending over the tub in frontof the pump. "My wounds are mere trifles. Only a scratch or two on thescalp and a pink or two on the arms. Take Betty's advice. Leave at once.This is no place for your friend. The society of our virtuous monarchdoubtless will be far more congenial."

  Nelly hesitated, and George, seeing that Frances was about to speak,turned upon her, almost angrily:--

  "Please go before greater trouble comes. I could not hold out for anotherfight. I am almost finished. Let the king fight the battles of hisfriends. The ruffian that escaped will return with re-enforcements, and Iam not able to fight them again."

  "Oh, but she is not the king's friend, as you suppose, as my idle wordsmight lead you to believe," returned Nelly, pleadingly.

  George rose from the tub over which he was standing and answered: "Showyour gratitude for what I have done by going at once."

  Seeing that George was in earnest, Nelly left the courtyard, leadingreluctant Frances by the hand. Hamilton's supposed crime had beenforgotten, and I believe would have been forgiven had he permittedFrances the opportunity at that time.

  When Frances and Nelly reached the street, Frances said, "I must see himagain to tell him that I am not--"

  "What I am," interrupted Nelly. "Do not fear to speak plainly. I amcontent with myself. But I shall take measures at once to convince Georgethat you are what you are. I'll set you right with him."

  "I'll return and explain for myself," insisted Frances.

  "He will refuse to hear you. If you wish, I'll leave you at the barge andgo back to explain to him."

  Frances consenting, they went back to the barge, and Nelly, returning tothe tavern, sought Betty. Hamilton was not to be seen, and in reply toNelly's inquiries, Betty told her that he had fainted at the pump and hadbeen taken upstairs to a room.

  "His wounds are deeper than he supposed," said Betty, "and the loss ofblood has been very great. We have sent for a surgeon."

  "I'll go to see him," said Nelly.

  "No," returned Betty, shaking her head emphatically. "Father says thatfever may set in, and that Master Hamilton must not be disturbed. Youcannot see him."

  "Have your way, Betty," answered good-natured Nell. "And Betty dear, Iwas only teasing you about the table linen."

  "I understand. Just a little sport with the barmaid," returned Betty, anote of sarcasm ringing sharply in her usually soft voice.

  "Yes, Betty. I'm sorry. Forgive me. Here are two guineas."

  "I don't want them," answered Betty, clasping her hands behind her.

  "Again forgive me," said Nelly. "I have been wrong altogether in myopinion of you. You are a good, beautiful girl, and I'm coming back tosee you very soon."

  "Please don't come on my account, Mistress Gwynn," returned Betty.

  "No, I shall come on my account," replied Nell, coaxingly. "I'll go nowfor fear of making more trouble for you, but I intend to be your friend,and you shall be mine. When Nelly makes up her mind to have a friend, shealways has her way. Good-by, Betty."

  Betty courtesied, and Nelly left the Old Swan, returning at once toFrances, who was waiting in the barge. On their way back to the palaceneither Frances nor Nelly spoke after Nelly had told what she had heardat the inn. Usually Nelly was laughing or talking, or both, and when awoman of her temperament is silent, she is thinking. In this instance herthinking brought her to two conclusions: first, t
hat Hamilton was the manFrances loved and hated; and second, that it was his face she hadrecognized on the night Roger Wentworth was killed.

  The dangerous element in these calculations was that they were sure toreach the king's ear as soon as Nelly found an opportunity to impartthem. It were treason to withhold from his Majesty such a tearing bit ofscandal. She had no reason to suspect that the telling of what hadhappened and of what she had deduced would bring trouble to Frances andGeorge. She simply knew that the king would be vastly pleased with thestory, and her only purpose in life was to give him pleasure. How wellshe pleased him in this instance and the result of her innocent effort tomake him happy will soon appear.

  The day after the adventure of Frances and Nelly at the Old Swan, I hadbusiness with Backwell, the goldsmith, and when I had disposed of mymatters, I walked over to the Old Swan near by to eat a grilled lobster,a dish for which the inn was famous. I knew nothing of the trouble thathad occurred the day before, not having seen my cousin, nor did I knowthat Hamilton was in London, not having seen nor heard from him sinceFrances's arrival at court.

  By far my greatest motive in going to the Old Swan was to see Betty,whose beauty and sweetness had begun to haunt me about that time.

  If Mary Hamilton had shown me the least evidence of warmth, my admirationfor Bettina, perhaps, would have remained merely admiration. But in viewof Mary's admirable self-control, I found myself falling into a methodof thought morally then prevalent with all modish men. I confess withshame that I hoped to have Mary for my wife and Bettina to love me and tobe loved. I did not know Betty then, and have regretted all my life thatonce I looked upon her as--well, as a barmaid. While I thoroughlyrealized that she was an unusual girl in many respects, still I held to atheory then prevalent that barmaids were created to be kissed.

  When I reached the Old Swan, I chose a table in a remote corner of thetap-room, ordered a lobster from one of the maids, and, while waiting forit, drank a cup of wormwood wine.

  The place seemed dingy and drear with its great ceiling beams oftime-darkened oak, its long, narrow windows of small square panes, itsblack fireplace, lifeless without the flames, and its dark, grim mahoganybar stretching halfway across the south side of the room. The whitefloor, well sanded and polished, seemed only to accentuate the generalgloom, and the great clock, ticking solemnly behind the bar, seemed to bemarking time for a funeral dirge. But suddenly all changed to brightnesswhen Betty entered. Pickering was talking to me, standing between me andthe girl, so that she did not see me when she first came into the room.She stepped behind the bar for some purpose and called to her father, whostarted to go to her, but before he reached her she looked up and saw me.In a moment she was by my side, smiling and dimpling in a manner fit toset the heart of an anchorite a-thumping.

  "I came for a lobster, Betty," I said, taking her hand, "and to see you.I was afraid you might forget me."

  "The Old Swan is likely to forget you, Baron Ned," she answered,withdrawing her hand, "if you don't come to see us oftener."

  "Ah, Betty, you're a mercenary bit of flesh and blood. Always looking outfor customers," I returned, shaking my head.

  "Yes," she replied, laughing softly. "And--and very sorry when certaincustomers come so seldom."

  Had she spoken glibly, her words would have meant nothing, but there wasa hesitancy, a pretty fluttering in her manner which pleased me, so I wasemboldened to say:--

  "I hope I am one of the 'certain customers,' Betty."

  Again she laughed softly, as she answered, "Yes, Baron Ned, _the_ certainone."

  "Do you mean, Betty, that I am the 'certain one' for the Old Swan or forBetty?" I asked.

  She was standing near me, and I again caught her hand, but it was not apart of Betty's programme to be questioned too closely, so she withdrewher hand, saying, "I must go."

  On former occasions I had put forth what I considered adroit efforts tosteal small favors from the girl, for, as already intimated, I consideredher merely a barmaid; but I had failed, and the conviction was dawning onmy mind that either she was not an ordinary barmaid or that I was thewrong man. The first assumption would make me all the more eager, but thesecond would deter any self-respecting man from further pursuit. My fearsinclined me to accept the second, and resulted in a dim sort of jealousyof the right man, who, I suspected, was Hamilton.

  When Betty started to leave me, I caught her skirt to detain her, andsaid: "When George Hamilton used to come here, I was jealous of him, andfeared that he might be the 'certain customer.' But I am glad that he hasleft England."

  The girl blushed as she answered, "No, no, Baron Ned, there is no other'certain customer.'" But she checked herself, evidently having said morethan she intended, and continued hurriedly: "But Master Hamilton has notleft England. He is now in the Old Swan. He asked me to say nothing ofhis presence in London, but I know he would want me to tell you."

  "Yes, yes, of course he would, Betty. Where is he?" I asked.

  "Upstairs in bed," she answered.

  "Is he sick?" I asked, rising.

  "No and yes," she replied. "He is suffering from his wounds, and thesurgeon says the fever is mounting rapidly to his head."

  "His wounds?" I exclaimed.

  "Yes, lots of them," she answered. "But I hope none of them are serious,save for the loss of blood."

  "Wounds? Blood? Tell me, Betty, tell me! Has he been in trouble?" Iasked, deeply concerned.

  "You see it was this way, Baron Ned," she began, leaning back against thetable and smoothing out her apron. "Yesterday while Mistress Gwynn andanother lady, a duchess, were eating their dinner in the small diningroom, three drunken ruffians came in and tried to kiss them. MasterHamilton, who was here at this very table, heard the disturbance, so hedrew his sword, ran to the rescue, and he and I beat the fellows out. Hefought beautifully, but one man can't stand long against three, so Iupset two of the ruffians by tripping them--pulled their feet from underthem, you know--and Master Hamilton's sword did the rest. One of them ranaway, and the other two were carried to the hospital on stretchers. Oneof the ruffians had tried to kiss me a few minutes before, and I hadalmost drowned him with a pot of tea. If he ever returns, I'll see thatthe tea is boiling."

  "It seems that every one is wanting to kiss you, Betty," I remarked.

  "Not every one, but too many," she rejoined.

  "And you don't want to be kissed, Betty?" I asked.

  "Well, not by the wrong man," she answered, laughing softly and tossingher head emphatically.

  "I wish I were the right man," I suggested.

  "There is no right man--yet," she returned, laughing and dimpling till Ialmost wished there was not a dimpling stubborn girl in all the world.

  "Betty, you're a bloodthirsty little wretch," I said, shaking my headsorrowfully. "You scald one man and help Hamilton to kill two."

  "Oh, they will not die," she answered seriously. "I was haunted by thefear that they might, so I got up in the middle of the night, took fatherand one of the boys with a link, and went to the hospital, where Ilearned that they will recover."

  "Show me to Hamilton's room, Betty, and bring two lobsters there insteadof one. He and I will have dinner together," I said, turning to go withher.

  "He doesn't seem to want to eat, though I doubt if his lack of appetiteis owing wholly to his wounds," she replied, as we were leaving thetap-room.

  "How long has he been here?" I asked.

  "Since yesterday noon," she answered. "He came just in time to findtrouble. An hour ago I took a bowl of broth to him and a plate ofsparrow-grass, but he said dolefully that the food would stick in histhroat. I told him he was not wounded in the throat. Then he said it wasin his heart, and that such a wound kills the appetite. I believe he's inlove, Baron Ned," she concluded, leaning toward me and whisperingearnestly.

  "With you, Betty?" I asked.

  "No, no, with some one else."

  "Would it make you unhappy?" I asked.

  "To be in love?" she asked, arching h
er eyebrows.

  "No. For him to be in love," I said.

  "If he is unhappily so, I should be sorry," she answered.

  "And you would not be jealous?" I asked.

  "Ah, Baron Ned!" she returned, protestingly.