Evening Star Newspaper, November 27, 1897, Page 18

THE EVENING STAR, SATURDAY, NOVEMBER 27, 1897-24 PAGES. Written for The Evening Star. | Synopsis. Simon Dale. born of gentle blood in an English country district shortly after the execution of Charles I, is looked upon as destined to greatness because 2 wise wo- man has prophes‘ed that he shall “love what the king loves, know what the king hides aud drink from the king’s cup.” Fail- ing in .ove with Barbara, daughter of the parish magistrate, Lord Quinton, his young affections are diverted by the appearance of a mysterious London beauty named Cydaria, who secretly sojourns at Hatch- stead. Cydaria returns to London, whence there comes to Simon a commission in the King’s Guards. He goes to London, dis- covers that Cydaria is really Nell Gwynn, fights a duel with Lord Carford in sv>port of her fair fame and decides to resign his commission because she procured it. Simon meets Charles II, who appears vexed ‘at this episcde. and once more encounters Barbara Quinton. Barbara becomes jeal- ous of Cydaria, whose ilentity she does not know. Simon becomes a favorite of the young Duke of Monmouth and is at- tached to ins suite. A message from Mis- tress Gwynn arouses his old love for her. He has an tnerview with her which is in- terrupted by the unexpected appearance of the king. He discovers tae true state of affairs and formally renounces his love for Cydarim He goes to Dover with a young duke—meets a mysterious messenger from France, with whom he has an alterca- tion, which reveals to him the fact that there is an underlying motive for the Dover gathering. Continued From Last Saturday. CHAPTER XI. ‘The Gentleman From Calais. Good fortune and bad had combined to Make me somewhat more of a figure in the eyes of the court than was warranted by my abilities or my station. The friend of Mistress Gwyn and the favorite of the Duke of Monmouth (for this latter title his nal kindness scon extorted from | the amused and envious) was a man whom great folk recognized, and to whom small folk paid civility. Lord Carford had be- come again all smiles and courtesy. Darrell, who arrived in the secretary's train, com- pensaied in cordiality for what he lacked in confidence: my Lord Arlington himself presented me in most flattering terms to the French king’s envoy, M. Colbert de Cro'ssy, who, in his turn, greeted me with @ warmth and regarded me with a curios- ity that produced equal gratification and bewilderment in my mind. Finally, the Duke of Monmouth insisted on having me with him in the castle, while the greater part of the gentlemen attacked to the royal and noble persons were sent to lodge in the town for want of accommodation within the walls. My private distress, from which I recovered but slowly, or, to speak more properly, suppressed with difficulty, served to prevent me from becoming puffed up with the conceit which this success might well have inspired. The first part of Betty Nasroth’s proph- ecy now stood fulfilled, aye, as I trusted, utterly finished and accomplished; the rest carried. I had guessed that there was a Secret. what it was remained unknown to me, and, as I soen suspected, to people more important. The interval before the arrival of the Duchess of Orleans was oc- cupied in many councils and conference: of them the Duke of Monmouth Was present, and he told me no more than all the court conje ured when he said that me with a new project esh war with But there were conferences at was not present, nor the Duke of Buckingham, but only the king, his broth- er (so soon as his royal highness joined us from London), the French envoy and Clif- ford and Arlington. Of what passed at these m3 er knew nething, though he feigned knowledge: he would be restless when I, having used my eyes, told him that ng had been with M. Colbert de y for two hours, and that the Duke j of York had walked on the walls above an hour in earnest conversation with the treasurer. He felt himself ignored, and poured out his indignation unreservedly to Carford. Carford would frown and throw his eyes toward me, as though to ask if I were to hear these things, but the duke re- fused his suggestion. Nay, once he said in Jest: “What I say is as safe with him as with you, my lord, or safer.” I _ wondered to see Carford indignant. “Why do you say safer, sir?” he asked, haughtily, while the color in his cheeks was heightened. “Ils any man’s honor more to be trusted than mine?” “Ah, man, I meant nothing against your honor, but Simon here has a discretion that heaven does not give to every one.” Now, when I see a man so sensitive to suspicion as to find it in every careless word, I am set to thinking whether he may not kave some cause to fear suspicion. Honesty expects no accusation. Carford’s readiness to repel a charge not brought caught my notice, and made me ponder more on certain other conferences to which also his grace my patron was a stranger. More than once had I found Arlington and Carford together, with M. Colbert in their company, and on the last occasion of such an encounter Carford had requested me not to mention his whereabouts to the duke, advancing the trivial protest that he should have been engaged on his grace’s business. was not our schoolmaster. But ceived, most amiably deceived, and tongue as he prayed. Yet I watch- and soon, had a man told me that the Duke of York thought it well to maintain a friend of his own in his nephew's confidence, I would have hazard- ed that friend's name without fear of mis- take. So far the affair was little to me, but when ¥ y madame was to arrive, hardly an hour passed before I perceived | that she also, although she knew it not, had her part to play. I cannot tell what reward they offered Carford for success- ful service; if a man who sells himself at a hish price be in any way less a villain than he who takes a penny, I trust that the price was high, for in pursuance of the ef- fort to obtain Monmouth’s confidence and an ascendancy over him, Carford made use of the lady whom he had courted, and as I believed, ‘still courted for his own wife. He threw her in Monmouth’s way by tricks too subt'e for her to detect, but plain to an attentive observer. I knew from her father that lately he had again begged her hand, and thai she had listened with more show ef favor. Yet he was the duke’s very hum- ble servant in all the plans which that headstrong young man now laid against the lady’s peace. Is there need to state the scneme more plainly? In those days a man might rise high and learn secrets, if he knew when to shut his eyes and how to knock loud before he entered the room. I should have warned her, it fs true, but the mischief lay in the fact that by no means could I induce her to exchange a word with me. She was harder by far to me than she had shown herself in London. Perhaps she had heard how I had gone to ——; but whether for good reason or bad, my crime seemed without pardon. Stay: perhaps my condition was below her notice. Or sin and condition so worked together that she would have nothing of me, and I uid do nothing but look on with outward calm and hidden sourness while the duke pled her with flatteries that soon grew to passionate avowals, and Carford paid defer. ential suit when his superior was not in the way. She triumphed in her success as iris Will, blind to its perils as girls are: and Monmouth made no secret of his hopes of success, as he sat between Carford’s stolid face and my downcast eyes. “She's the loveliest creature in the he would ery. “Come. drink a toast And I drank silentiy, while Car- ford led him on to unrestrained boasts and artfully fanned his passton. At last—it was the evenirg of the day be- fore madame was fo come—I met her where she could not avoid me, by the constable's tower and alone. I took my courage in my bands and faced her, waraing her of her Peril in what delicate words I could find. Alas, I made nothing of it. A scornful Jest at me ond my righteousness, ef which, said she, all London -had been talking & ttle while back, was the first shot trom | >) BY ANTHONY HOPE COPYRIGHT 1691 —>A_<-> BY AHMAWKINS. her battery. The mention of the duke's name brought a blush and mischievor smile as she answered: “Shouldn't I make a fine duchess, Mr. er” “Aye, if he made you one,” said I, with gloomy bluntness. “You insult ie, sir,” she cried, and the flush on her face deepened. “Then I Go in a few words what his grace does in many,” I retorted. I went about it like a dolt. I de not doubt. For she flew out on me, demanding in what esieem I held her, and in what her birth fell short of Annie Hyde's—‘“who is now Duchess of York. and in whose serv- ice I have the honor to be.” “Is that your pattern?” I asked. “Will the king interpose for you as he did for the caughter of Lord Clarendon?” She tossed her head, answering: “Perhaps so much interfence will not be needed.” “And does my Lord Carford share these Flans of yours?” I asked, with a sneer. The questior touched her. She flushed again, but gave way not an inch. “Lord Carford has done me much honor, as you know,” said she, “but he wouldn’t stand in my way her “Ind he doesn’t,” I cried. or in his ce’ “Have you done, sir?” says she, most scornfully. “I have done, madame,” said I, and on she swept. “Yet you shall come to no harm,” I added to myseif, as I watched her proud, free steps carry her away. She also, it seemed, had her dream. I hoped that no more than hurt pride and a heart for the moment sore would come of it. Yet if the flatteries of princes pleased, she was to be better pleased soon, and the Duke of Monmouth — scarcely higher to her than Simon le. Then came madame in the morning from Dunkirk, escorted by the vice admiral, and met above a mile from the coast by the king in his barge, the Duke of York, Prince Rupert and my duke, on whom I attended, accompanying his raajesty. Madame seem- ed scarcely as beautiful as I had heard, although of a very high air and most ad- mirable carriage and address, and my eyes, krone, I must confess, to seek the fairest face, wandered from hers to a lady who stood near, gifted with a delicate and al- highness, I am, body and soul, at you service.” t “Body and soul!” said she. “Ah, you mean saving—what is It? Haven't you ae coe i thing.” ma “His ce has spared me not 5 I with i epcomrnene glance at Monmouth: “The more told of you the better you're liked, Simon,” said he kindly. ‘See, mad- ame, we're at the landihg, and there’s a crowd of loyal folk to greet you.” as “I know the loyalty of the English well,’ sald she in a low voice and with a curling lip. “They have their reservations like Mr. Dale. Ah, you’re speaking, Mr. Dale!” “To myself, madame,“ I answered, bow- ing prefcundly. She laughed, head at me, and passed on. I 1 she did not press me, for what I had sdid was, “Thank God,” and I might likely enough have told a lie if she had put me to the question. That night the king entertained his sis- ter at a great banquet in the hall of the castle, where there was much drinking of toasts and much talk of the love that the King of France had for the King of Eng- land, and our king for the other king, and we for the French (whereas we hated them) and they for us (although they wasted no kindness on us): but at least every man got as much wine as he wanted, and many of them more than they had fair occasion for, and- among these last I must count the Duke of Monmouth. For after the rest had risen from the table he sat there still, calling Carford to join him, and even bidding me sit down by his side. Carford seemed in no haste to get him away, although very anxious to relieve me of my post behind his chair, but at last, by dint_of upbraiding them both, I prevailed on Carford to offer his arm and the duke to accept it, while I supported him on the other side. Thus we set out for his grace’s quarters, making a spectacle sad enough for a mor- alist, but too ordinary at court for any remark to be excited by it. Still Carford insisted that he could take the duke alone. I would not budge. My lord grew offensive, hinting of busybodies who came between the duke and his friends. Pushed hard, I asked the duke himself if I should leave him. He bade me stay, swearing that I was an honest fellow and no papist, as were same he knew. I saw Carford start. His grace saw nothing save the entrance of his chamber, and that not over plainly. “NO MAN IS TO PASS THIS WAY.” luring, yet childish beauty, who gazed on the gay scene with innocent interest and a fresh enjoyment. Madame, havir embracea her kinsmen, presented the lady to his majesty by the name of Mlle. Louise Renee de Perrincourt de Querouaille (the name was much shortened by our common folk in later days), and the king kissed her hand, saying that he was rejoiced to see Ter—as, indeed, he seemed to be, if a man might judge by the time that he spent in lcoking at her, and the carelessness with which he greeted the others in attendance on madame. “And these are all who come with you, sister?” he asked. She answered him clearly, almost loudly: “Saving a gentleman who is to join me from Calais tomorrow, with messages from the king.” I heard no more, beirg forced to move away and leave the royal group alone. 1 had closely examined all who came. For in the presence of madame I read je viens, in our King’s tu viens, but I saw none whose coming would make the tidings il vient worthy of a special messenger to London. But there was a gentleman to arrive from Calais. I had enough curi- !osity to ask M. de Comte d’Albon, who (with his wife) accompanied madame and stood by me on deck as we returned to land, who this gentleman might be. “He is called M. de Perrincourt,” the count replied, “‘and is related remotely to the lady whom you saw with madame.” I was disappointed, or rather checked. Was M. de Perrincourt so important that they wrote il vient about him and sent the tidings to London? After some time, when we were already ecming near to shore, I observed madame leave the king and go walking to and fro on the deck in company with Monmouth. He was very merry, and she was very gracious. I amused myself with watching so handsome and well-matched a pair. 1 did not wonder that my duke was in a mighty good temper, for, even had she been no princess, her company was such as would please a man’s pride and con- tent his fancy. So I leaned against the mast, thinking ft a pity that they troubled their pretty heads with Dutch wars and the like tiresome matters and were not content to ornament the werid, leaving its rule tc others. But presently I saw the duke point toward me and madame's glance follow his finger; he talked to her again and both laughed. Then, just as we came by the landing stage, she laid her hand on his arm, as though ir command. He laughed again, shrugging his shoulders, then raised his hand and beckoned to me. Now I, while watching, had been most diligent in seem- ing not to watch, and it needed a second and unmistakable signal from his grace before I hastened up, hat in hard. Madame was laughing, and, as I came I heard her say, “Yes, but I will speak to him.” The duke, with another shrug, bade me come near. and in due form presented me. She gave me her hand to Kiss, saying with a smile that showed her white teeth: “Sir, I asked to be shown the most honest man in Dever, and my cousin Monmouth has brought you to me.” I perceived that Monmouth, seeking how to entertain her, had not scrupled to press me into his service. This I could not re- sent, and since I saw that she was not too dull to be arswered in the spirit of her ad- dress, I msde her a low bow and said: “His grace, madame, conceived you to mean in Dover castle. The townsmen, I believe, are very henest.” “And you, though the most honest in the castle,-are not very honest?” “I take what I find, madam,” I answered. “So M. Colbert tells me,” she said, with a swift glance at me. “Yet it’s not always worth taking.” “I keep it, in case it should become so,” I answered, for I guessed that Colbert had told her of my encounter with M. de Fon- telles; if that were so she might nave a curiosity to see me without the added in- ducement of Monmouth’s malicious stories. “Not if it be a secret? No man keeps that,” she cried. “He may, if he be not in love, madam« “But are you that monster, Mr. Dale?" said she. “Shame on the ladies of my native land! Yet I am glad! For, if you're not in love, you'll be more ready to serve me, perhap: “Mr. Lue, madame, is not incapable of falling in love,” said Monmouth, with a ep bow. "t try him too much.” fall in love, then, with Louise,” she cried. Monmouth made a grimace and the duchess fell suddenly to layghins, as she glanced over her shoulder toward the king, who was busily engaged in corverzati: with Mile. de erouaille. =. “Indeed. ni I exciaimed with a fervor that I had not intended. No more of that part of Betty Nasroth’s prephecy for me, and the king’s attentions were already par- tcular. “But if I can serve your royal But we got him in and into a seat, and the door shut. Then he called for ‘more wine, and Carford at once brought it to him and pledged him once again, Mon- mouth drinking deep. “He has had more than he can carry al- ready,” I whispered. Carford turned straight to the duke, crying: “Mr. Dale here says that your grace is drunk.” He made nothing by the move, for the duke answered, good humoredly: “Truly I am drunk, but in the legs only, my good Simon. My head is clear—clear as daylight or the —" He looked around curningly and caught each of us by the arm. “We're good Protestants here?” he asked, with a would-be shrewd, wine-mud- dled glance. “Sound and true, your grave,” said Car- ford. Then he whispered to me: “Indeed, I think he's tl. Pray run for the king’s Physician, Mr. Dale.” “Nay, he'd do well enough if he were alone with me. If you desire the physi- clan's presence, my lord, he’s easy to find.” I cared not a jot for Carford’s anger, and was determined not to give ground. Bat we had no more time for quarreling. “I am as loyal—as loyal to my father as any man in the kingdom,” said the duke, in maudlin ‘confidence. “‘But you know what's afoot?” “A new war with the Dutch, I'm told, sir,” said I. a “A fig for the Dutch. Hush, we must speak low; there may be Papists about. There are some in the castle, Carford. Hush, hush. Some say my uncle’s on A some say the secretary’s one. Gentlemen, I—I say no more. Traitors have said that my father is—-” Carford interrupted him. “Don't trouble your mind with these slan- ders, sir,” he urged. “I won't believe it. I'll stand by my father. But if the Duke of York—but I’il say no more.” His head fell on his breast. But in @ moment he sprang to his feet cry- ing, “But I'm a Protestant. Yes, and I'm the king’s son.” He caught Carford by the arm, whispering, “Not a word of it. I'm ready. We know what's afoot. We're loy- al to the king. We must save him. But if we can’t—if we can’t, isn’t there one who —-who—" He lost his tongue for an instant. We stood looking at him till he spoke again. “One who would be a Protestant king?” He spoke the last words loud and fiercely. It was the final effort, and he sank back in his chair in a stupor. Carford gave a hasty glance at his face. “I'll go for the physician,” he cried. “His. grace may need blood-letting.’ 1 stepped between him and the door as he advanced. “His grace needs nothing,” said I, “ex- cept the discretion of his friends. We've heard foolish words that we should not peye heard tonight, my lord.” “I'm sure they're safe wi ae = eeeten. y with you,” he an. “And with you?” He drew himself “Stand aside, sir, and let me pass.” pee are you going?” “To fetch the physician. I'll Ce ae Sy could not stop him without an quarrel, and that 1 could not encounter. for it could only lead to my own expulsion. Yet I was sure that he would go straight to Arlington and that every word the duke had srcken would be carried to York, and perhaps to the king before next morning. The king would be informed, if it were thought possibie to prejudice him against York, at least, would be warned of the mad scheme which was in the young duke’s head. I drew aside and with a surly bow let Carford pass. He returned my salutation with an equal economy of po- liteness, and left me alone with Monmouth, who had now sunk into a heavy and un. easy sleep. I roused him and got him to bed, glad to think that his unwary tongue would be silent for a few hours at least. Yet what he had said brought me nearer to the secret and the mystery. There was I retorted quickly. up haughtily. indeed more afoot than the war with the) Dutch. There wes, if I mistook not, a matter that touched the religion of the king. Monmouth, whose wits were sharp enough, had gained scent of it. The wits went out as the wine went in, and he blurted out what he suspected, robbing his knowledge cf all value by betraying its pos- session. Our best knowledge ltes in what we are not known to know. I repaired,* thoughtful and disturbed, to my own, small chamber. next the duke's, yet the night was fine and I had no mind for sleep. 1 turned back again and made my way onto the wali where it faces the sea. The wind was blowing fresh and tne sound of the waves filled my ears. No doubt the same sound hid the noise of my feet, for when I came to the wall I passed unheeded three persens who stood in a group together. I knew @ll, and made haste to pass by. The man was the king himself; the lady on his right was Mistress Bar- bara. In the third I recognized madame’s lady, Louise de Querouaille. I proceeded some distance furtter, till I was at the end of the wall nearest the sea. There I took my stand, lcoking not at the sea, ‘but cov- ertly at the strange group. Presently two of them moved away; the third courtesied low, but @id not accompany them. When they were gone she turned and leaned on the parapet of the wall with clasped hands. Drawn by. somé.impulse I moved toward her. She<was wnconscious of my approach until I cane quite near to her; then she turned on_me é face stained with tears and pale witH=egitation and dismay. I stood before hef, hless, and she found no words in Which to address me. I was too Proud to iforeq my y on her, and made as thergh to pass on with a bow, but her face a me. “What ails. fou, -Mistress Barbara?” I cried impetuqusiy. She smoothed her face to composure as she answered me: “Nothing, sir.” Then she added -careless- ly, “Unless it be that sometimes the king's conversation ‘ts~too free for my liking.” “When you want me, I’m here,” I said, answering not her words, but the frighten- ed look that there was in her eyes. For an instant I seemed to see her in an impulse to trust me and to lay bare what ‘troubled her. The feeling passed; her face regained its natural hue and she said pet- ulantly: 2 “Why, yes, it seems fated tnat you should always be there, Simon; yet Botty Nasroth said nothing of it.” “It may be well for you that I am here,” I answered hotly; for her scorn stirred me to say what I should have left unsaid. I do not krow how she would have an- swered, for at that.moment we heard a shout from the watchman who stood look- img over the sea. He hailed a boat that came prancing over the waves; a light answered his signal. Who came to the castle? Barbara’s eyes and mine sought the ship; we did not know the stranger, but he was expected, for a minute later Darrell ran quickly by us with an eager Jook on his face; with him was the Count d’Albon, who had come with madame and Depuy, the Duke of York's servant. They went by at the top of their speed and in visible excitement. Barbara forgot her anger and haughtiness in fresh girlish in- terest. “Who can it be?” she cried, coming so near to me that her sleeve touched mine and leaning over the wall toward where the ship's black hull was to be seen far below in the moonlight by the jetty. “Doubtless it’s the gentleman whom mad- ame expects,” said I. x Many minutes passed, but through them Barbara and I stood silent side by side. Then the party came back through the gate, whith had been opened for them. Depuy walked first, carrying a small trunk, <wo or three servants followed with more luggage, then came Darrell in company with a short man, who walked with a bold and confident air. The rest passed us and the last pair approached. Now Dar- rell saw Mistress Barbara and doffed his hat to her. The newcomer did the like and more; he halted immediately opposite to us and looked curfously at her, sparing a cu- rious glance for me. I bowed; she waited waaovedl until the gentleman said to Dar- rell: ‘Pray present ‘me.’ “This, madame,” said Darrell, in whose voice there was a ring of excitement and tremulous agitation, “is M. de Perrincourt, who has the honor of serving her royal highness the duchess. This lady, sir, is Mistress Barabara Quinton, maid of honor to the Duchess of York, and now in attend- ance on madame.” Barbara made a ghrtesy, M. de Perren- court bowed. <Hijs"yés. were fixed on her face; he studié& her-cpenly and fearlessly, yet the re; ‘as difficult to resent, it sured ang dignified. It hallenge, if not beyond re- Proach. I stood by tn silence, angry at a scrutiny so prolanged, but without title to interfere. = “I trust, madame, that we shall be better acquainted,;’ he said at last, and with a lingering look at her face, passed on. I turned to her; she was gazing after him with eager‘eyes. My presence seemed for- gotten; I would not remind her of it: I turned away in silence, and ‘hastened after Darrell ang his.eompanions. The curve of the wall hid them from my sight, but I quickened my pace; I gained on them, for now I heard thefr steps ahead; I ran round the next cérner,*for Iwas ablaze with cu- riosity to see more of this man, who came at so strange an hour and yet was ex- pected, whg bore himself so_loftily, and yet was but a gentleman-in-waiting, as I was. Rotnd ‘the next corner I should come in sight of him: Round I went, and I came plump into the arms of my good friend Darrell, who stood there, squarely across my path! “Whither away, Simon?” said he coldly. I halted, stood still, looked him in the face. He mét my gaze with a calm, self- controlled smile. “Why,” said I, “I’m on my way to bed, Darrell. Let me pass, I beg you.” “A moment later will serve,” said he. “Not a moment,” I replied, testily, and caught him by the arm. He was as stiff as a rock, Lut I put on my strength, and in another moment should have thrown him aside. But he cried in a loud, angry voice: “By the king’s orders, no man is to pass this way.” Amazed, I fell back. But over his head, some twenty yards from us, I saw two men embrace one another warmly. No- body else was near. Darrell’s eyes were fixed on me, 4nd his hand detained me in an eager grasp. But I looked hard at the pair there ahead of me; there was a cloud over the moon now; ina second it passed. The next moment the, two h. turned théir backs and were walking off together. Dar- reli, seeing my fixed gaze, turned also. His face was pale, as if with excitement, but he spoke in cool, level tones. “It's only M. Colbert greeting M. de Per- rencourt,” said he. “Ah, of course!’ I cried, turning to him, with a smile. “But where did M. Colbert get that star?” For the glitter of the dec- oration had caught my eye as it sparkled in the moonlight. There was a pause before Darrell an- swered. Then he said: “The king gave him his own star tonight, in compliment to madame.” And in truth M. Colbert wore that star when he walked abroad next morning, and professed much gratitude for it to the King. 1 have wondered s'nce whether he should not have thanked a humbler man. Had I not seen the star on the breast ot the gentleman who embraced M. de Per- rencourt, should I have seen it on the breast of M. Colbert de Croissy? In truth, 1 doubt it. CHAPTER XII. The Deference of His Grace, the Duke. Certainly he had some strange ways, this M. de Perrencourt. It was not enough for him to arrive by night, nor to have his meeting with M. Colbert (whose star Dar- rell made me observe most particularly next morning) guarded from intruding eyes by the king’s own order. predilection for darkness and was visible in the daytime only in madame’s apart- ment, or when she went to visit the king. The other French gentlemen and ladies manifested much curiosity concerning the town and.,the qj;neighborhood, and with madame ang the-Duke of Monmouth at their head tookopartiin many pleasant excur- sions. In a day"or two the queen aleo and the Duchess offWork came from London, and the dothgs @tew more gay and merry. But M. dé! Pefrencourt was not to be tempted; m6 pastimes, no jaunts allured him; he df not*put his foot outside the walls of thé castle, and was little seen in- side it. I, *nyself, did not set eyes on him for two di ase my first sight of him; but after t! beheld him fairly often, and the mote I #aw him the more I won- dered. Of “a tryth his retiring behavior was dictatel by : want of assurance nor By undue mod ; he was not abashed in the prese! of the great, and held himself as easily before*the king as in the pres- ence of a latkey. It was plain, too, that he enjoyed madame's confidence in no common degree, for8wheif’ affairs of state were dis- cussed ands-all withdrew saving madame, her brothers and the secretary (even the Duke of Monmouth not being admitted), the last we saw as we made our bows and backed out of the doorway would be M. de Perrencourt standing in an easy and un- constrained attitude behind madame’s chair and manifesting no. overpowering sense of the signal honor paid to him by the per- mission to remain. As may be supposed, a theory sprang up to account for the curi- ous regard this- gentleman commanded; it was put about (some said that Lord Ar- ington himeelf gave hig authority for the report) that M. de Perrencourt was legal guardian to his cousin Mile. de Querouailie, and that the king had fered special reasons for concillating the gentleman by every means, and took as much pains to please him as to gain favor with the lady herself. Here was a good reason for M. de bihscrpoaio tts jaistinguished tment, and no less for the composure Perrencoi and calm with which M, de urt accepted it. He showed a| To my mind, however, the manner of M. de Perrencourt’s arrival and the incident accepted satisfying curiosity and blunting question well enough. Again (for my curiosity would not be sat- isfied nor the edge of my questioning be turned) what had the Duke of Monmouth to gain from M. de Perrencourt? Some: thing, it seemed, or his conduct was most mysterious. He cared nothing for Mile. de Querouaille, and I could not suppose that the mere desire to please his father would have weighed with him so strongly as to make him to all appearances the humble servant cf this French gentleman. The thing was brought home most forcibly to my mind on the third evening after M. de Perrencourt’s arrival. A private con- ference was held and lasted some hours. Outside the closed doors we all paced to and fro, hearing nothing save now and then madame’s clear voice, raised, as it seemed, in exhortation @r persuasion. The duke, who was glad enough to escape the tedium of state affairs, but at the same time visibly annoyed at his exclusion, sauntered listlessly up and down, speaking to nobody. Perceiving that he did not de- sire my company, I withdrew to a distance, and, having seated myself in a retired cor- ner, was soon lost in consideration of my own fortunes, past and to come. The hour grew late, the gentlemen and ladies of the court having offered and accepted compli- ments and gallantries till invention and complaisance alike were exhausted, drop- ped off one by one in search of supper, wine or rest. I sat on in my corner. Nothing was to be heard save the occasion- al voices of the two musketeers on guard on the steps leading from the second story of the keep to the state apartments. I knew that I must move soon, for at night the gate on the stairs was shut. It wa: another of the peculiar facts about M. de Perrencourt that he alone of the gentle- men in waiting had been lodged within the precincts of the royal quarters, occu- pying an apartment next to the- Duke of York, who had his sister, madame, for his neighbor on the other side. The pro- Icnged conference Was taking place in the king's cabinet, further along the passage. Suddenly I heard steps on the stairs, the word of the night was asked and Mon- mouth’s voice made answer, “St. Denis,” for just now everything was French, in compliment to madame. The steps contin- ued to ascend, the light in the corridor was very dim, but a moment later I perceived Monmouth and Carford. Carford’s arm was through his grace’s, and he seemed to be endeavoring to restrain him. Mon- aa £nook him off with a laugh and an cath. “I'm not going to listen,” he cried. “Why should 1 listen? Do I want to hear the king praying to the Virgin?” “Silence, for God’s sake, silence, your grace,” implored Carford. “That's what he does, isn’t it? He and the queen’s chaplain and the “Pray, sir.” “And our good M. de Perrencourt, then He burst into a bitter laugh as he mé tioned the gentleman's name. I had heard more than was meant for my ears, and what was enough (if I may use a distinction drawn by my old friend the vicar) for my understanding. I was in dcubt whether to declare my presence or not. Had Monmouth been alone I would have shown myself directly, but I did not wish Carford to be aware that I had over- heard so much. I sat still a moment longer in hesitation; then I uttered a loud yawn, groaned, stretched myself, rose to my feet and gave a sudden and very obvious start, as I let my eyes fall on the duke. “Why, Simon,” he cried, “what brings you here?" “I thought your grace was in the king’s cabinet,” I answered. “But you knew that I left them some hours since.” “Yes, but having lostwight of your grace, I supposed that you’d returned, and while waitfmg for you I fell asleep.” My explanation abundantly satisfied the duke; Carford maintained a wary silence. “We're after otter game than confer- ences tonight,” said Monmouth, laughing again. “Go down to the hall and wait there for me, Simon. My lord and I are going to pay a visit to the ladies of mad- ame and the Duchess of York. I saw that he was merry with wine; Carford had been drinking, too, but he grew only more glum and malicious with his liquor. Neither their state nor the hour seemed fitted for the visit the duke spoke of, but I was helpless, and with a bow tcok my way down the stairs to the hall below, where I sat down on the steps that led up to one of the loop holes. A great chgir, standing by the wall, served to hide me from observation. For a few moments nothing cccurred. Then I heard a loud burst of laughter from above. Feet came running down the steps into the hall, and a girl in a white dress darted across the floor. I heard her laugh and knew that she was Barbsra Quinton. An instant later came Moumcuth, hot on her heels, and im- ploring her in extravagant words not to be £0 cruel and heartless as to fly from him. But where was Carford? I could only sup- pose that my lord had the discretion to Stay behind when the Duke of Monmouth desired to speak with the lady whom my lord sought for his wife. In my humble judgment, a very fine, large and subtle volume might be composed on the canons of eavesdropping—when 2 man may listen, when he may not, aud for how long he may, to what end, for what motives, in what causes and on what pro- vocations. It may be that the divines, who, as I understand, are greatly adept in the science of casuistry, have accomplished al- ready the task I indicate. I know not; at least I have nowhere encountered the re- sult of their labors. But now I sat still be- hird the great chair and listened w!thout doubt or hesitation. Yet how long I could have controlled myself I know not, for his grace made light of scruples that night and set bounds at naught. At first Mis- tress Barbara was merry with him, fenc- ing and parrying in confidence that he would use no roughness nor an undue vebemence. But on he went, and presently a note of alarm sounded in her voice, as she prayed him to suffer ker to depart and return to the duchess, who must have need of her. A “Nay, I won't let you go, sweet mistress. Rather, I can't let you go.” = “Indeed, sir, I must go,” she said. “Come, I wili call my Lord Carford to aid me in persuading your grace.” He laughed at the suggestion that a call for Carford would hinder him. “He won't come,” he said, “and if he came he would be my ally, not yours.” She answered now haughtily and coldly: “Sir, Lord Carford is a suitor for my hand. It is in your grace’s knowledge that he is.” “But he thinks a hand none the worse be- cause I have kissed it!” retorted Mon- mouth. “You don’t know how amiabie a husband you're to have, Mistress Barbara.” I was on my feet now, and, peering round the chair, which hid me from them, I could see her standing against the wall, with “Traily, 'm Drunk.” Monmouth opposite to her. He offered to | Swormsteat, Dr. Wm. seize her hand. but she drew it away sharp- ly. With a laugh he stepped nearer to her. A slight sound caught my ear, and, turning my head, I saw Carford on the lowest step of the stairs; he was looking at the pair, and a moment later stepped backward til he was almost hidden from my __ sight. u tigre atadgl peas! ee “te his A cry of-triumph from mouth echoed low but intense through the hall. He had caught the elusive hand and was kissing it passionately. Barbara stood still and stiff. The duke, keeping her hand still in his, said, mockingly: “You pretty fool, would you refuse for- tune? Hark, madame, I am a king's son.” I saw no movement in her, but the light was dim. He went on, lowering his voice @ little, yet not much. ‘And I may be a king: stranger things have come to pass. Wouldn't you like to be a queen?” He laughed as he put the question; he lacked the care or the cunning to make even a show of honesty. “Let me go,” I heard her whisper in a strained, timid voice. “Well, for tonight you shall go, sweet- heart, but not without a kiss, I swear.” She was frightened now and sought to propitiate him, saying gently and with at- tempted lightness: “Your grace has my hand prisoner. You can work your will on it.” “Your hand! I mean your lips this time,” he cried, in audacious Insolence. He came rearer to her, his arm crept round her waist. I had endured what I could, yes, and as long as I could, for I was persuaded that I could serve her better by leaving her unaided for the moment. But my limit was reached. I stepped out from behind the chair. But in an instant I was back again. Monmouth had paused. In one hand he held Barbara’s hand; the other rested on her girdle, but he turned his head and looked at the stairs. Voices had come from there. He had heard them as I had, as Barbara had. “You can’t pass out,” had come in a blustering tone from Carford. “Stand aside, sir,” was the answer, in a calm, imperative voice. Carford hesitated for a single instant, then he seemed to shrink away, making himself small, and leaving free passage for @ man who came down the steps and walked confidently and briskly across the hall toward where the duke stood with Barbara. Above us, at the top of the stairs, there were the sound of voices and the tread of feet. The conference was broken up, and the parties to it were talking in the pas- sage on their way to regain their own apartments. I paid no heed to them. My eyes were fixed on the intruder who came so boldly and unahashed up to the duke. I knew him now. He was M. de Perren- court, madame’s gentleman. Without wavering or pausing, straight he walked. Monmouth seemed turned to stone. I could see his face set and rigid. although light failed me to catch that look in the eyes by which you may best know a man’s mood. Not a sound nor a motion came from Carford. Barbara herself was stiff and still, her regard bent on M. de Perrencourt. He stood now directly over against her and Monmouth. It seemed long before he spoke. Indeed, I had looked for Monmouth’s voice first. for an oath of vexation at the Interruption, for a curse on the intruder and a hauehty order to him to begone and not interfere with what con- cerned his betters. No such word nor any words issued from the mouth of the duke. And still M. de Perrencourt was silent. Carford stole covertly from the steps near- er to the group. until. gitiing across the hall, he was almost at the Frenchman's elbow. Still M. de Perrencourt was silent. Slowly and reluctantly. as though in deference to an order that he loathed but dare not disobev. Monmouth drew his arm away; he loosed Barbara’s hand; she drew back, leaning against the wall: the duke stood with his arms by his side, looking at the man who interrupted his sport and seemed to have power to control his will. Then at last, in crisp, curt, ungracious tones, M. de Perrencourt spoke. “T thank you. M. le Duc.” said he. “IT was sure that you would perceive your er- ror soon. This is not the lady you sup- posed; this is Mistress Quinton. I desire to speak with her; pray give me leave.” The king would not have spoken in this style to his pampered son, and the Juke of York himself dared not have done it. But no touch of uneasiness or self-distrust appeared in M. de Perrencourt’s smooth, cutting speech. Truly he was high in madame’s confidence and likely enough a great man in his own country, but, on my life. I looked to see the hot-tempered duke strike him across the face. Even I. who had been about to interfere myself, by some odd momentary turn of feeling. re- sented the insolence with which Monmouth was assailed. Would he not resent it much more for himself? No. Fof*an instant I heard his quick breathing, the breathing of a man who fights passion, holding it under | with great labor and struggling. Then he | Spoke; in his voice also there was passion hard held. “Here, sir, and everywhere,” he said, “you have only to command to be obeyed. Slowly he bent his head low, the gesture matching the humility of his words while it emphasized their unwillingness. (To be Continued.) IN THE CHURCHES It is stated that a few wealthy Catholics of Washington, Baltimore and New York have provided the funds for the manufac- ture of a magnificent Christmas present for Pope Leo. The present, which has just been completed at a leading jeweler’s es- tabitshment in New York, is said to be the most magnificent crucifix ever made, and is intended as a mark of devotion from the donors. A gentleman who has seen the present says: The cross is an exquisite specimen of the jeweler’s art. The ingenuity of the design, the delicacy of the workmanship and the carefulness with which every de- tail is finished combine to make it a most remarkable example of American skill in the production of uniquely beautiful jew- elry. The crucifix, six inches long, is of gold. The cross bars measure four inches each. This framework of gold is filled with diamonds. There is a small opening at the back, covered with a removable cap. In this receptacle the pope is expected to place a piece of the holy cross. There are ninety diamonds in all, forty of which, each weighing two and ‘a haif karats, are set one above another in the center of the cross. The other fifty, each weighing one-half karat, are set in the edges. The central diamond is one of rare brilliancy and weighs thirty karats. All the stones are blue white. They are abso- lutely without a flaw, and they have been cut to match one another exactly. ~The cross was designed by the manufacturer, and he has been occupied for more than two months in finishing it. The back of it is delicately carved and bears several bibli- cal inscriptions.. On one of the cross bars these words are inscribed: “Jesus, Homi- num Salvator. Upon the other these words appear: “Jesus, Guardian of My Soul.” The presentation of this beautiful gift to thé pope will, it is hoped, be made by a special messenger from those offering it, who is expected to carry it to Rome. At present there seems to be nothing in the way of carrying out the program, but should any unforseen occurrence make it impossible for the presentation to be made at Christmas the cross will be placed in the hands of Cardinal Gibbons to be sent to the pope through the regular channels of the church. The Guild of the Holy Cross of the ‘Church of the Epiphany has elected the fol- Jcwing officers for the year: President, Miss Pendleton; vice presidert, Miss Evans; sec- retary, Miss Boyd; treasurer, Miss Easter- Gay. Sunday last was offering day at the church for the support uf the large and im- portant work at Epiphany Chapel and Mis- sion House. This involves an expenditure of about $2,200 per annum, exclusive of the cost of the kindergarten. A donation for the heathen was received a few days ago by Dr. McKim from a little Sunday school in Maine, which was organized last sum- mer by a member cf Epiphany parish while she was temporarily residing at a little sta- tion in the Katahdin movatains. Girls’ Club of the parish has elected as its offi- cers: President, Miss Esther Goldney; vice presidents, Miss Sparo and Miss* Dowell; Miss Emma Goldney. s ‘The Central Union Mission has organized a free dispensary, and the following have been selected to serve until January 1, 1898: Dr. G. W. N. Custis, chief of staff; Dr. F. A, Swartwout, secretary of staff; members of general medical staff—Dr. W. F. Corey, Dr. Ira Dennison, Dr. J. 8. Dr. Rufus Choate, Dr. A. H. Taylor, Dr. E. 8. Lothrope, Dr. J. H. Branson; eye, car, nose and throat—Dr. Baker; ecology- ard Kingsman, Dr. S. S. Stearns, Dr. T. D. Mactonaid, Dr. 2 B. Babbitt, Dr. LB. The Woman's perintendents the organization hopes to ehh pan REE Ses The cards will be each Temperance India Buys Our Pills. MERIT WINS IN FAR-OFF LANDS AS IT DOES AT HOME. —_—> A Reporter's iterview With a Traveler. ~ From the Courler, Rochester, NH. A traveler who has just retarned from a trip around the world recently showel a reporter sam- ples of newspapers published in Ceylon, India, Australia and New Zealand. In reading them the reporter noticed some advertisements of Amer- fcan goods; particularly of a popular American medicine, Dr. Williams’ Pink Pills for Pale Peo- ple. The traveler sald that wherever he went be found this medicine on sale and very popular; he bad since learned that ft has a gale over almost the entire globe. Some will aay this is due to the great push on the part of the owners and much advertising; but while this may be true in Part, nevertheless he was quite sure that this was not the matn reason for its large aale. He believ- ed it is due to the great MERIT of the medicine ‘The reporter believed this, as he had frequently written up many interviews with people who had been cured by the pills, and he was THOROUGH. LY CONVERTED to the MERITS of the medicine by the heartfelt and sincere expressions of those whom he has interviewed. For instance, bere is a case right here at home that came under a reporter's notice, and tn it the patient speaks in no uncertain tomes. It in the case of Mrs. Nellie J. Lord of Strafford Corner, New Hampshire. It is explained most clearly im Mrs. Lord's own words, which are as follows: “I have been married six years, and am the mother of three children, two of whom are tw! After the birth of the twins, which was in F. ruary, 1895, 1 was unable to do anything tn th way of hourework for about a year. Two weeks after they were born I had heart failure, so thet I was often thought to be dead, and from this cause T was confined to my bed five more weeks I also had neuralgia of the stomach and suffered terribly. The pains in my stomach Insted all day and sometimer longer. and the doctor I called said it was cramp colic. I took everything I could eet in the way of medicine, and the night 1 was the very worst was constantly under the Influence of morphine. I tried several doctors, and their treat ment would help me, but at last did no good, and it was the same with every remedy I took. fen ‘ay constantly and was so thin at that time my hand's brother aid not know me. “The twins were born in February, and in the fall, having suffered intolerably all summer, and not getting permanent benefit from the numerou physicians I tried. my mother came in one day and wanted me to try Dr. Willams’ Pink ®ills for Pale People; so she purchased a box and I took some. This was in October, and before I bad taken one box I began to feel better, and after that I took them constantly, untfl now T have taken seven boxes; now I consider myself prac- tically cured, and only resort to them occasion- ally. I am in better bealth than I have been for a number of years. When I first began to take the pills I weighed 120 pounds. Now I weigh 146 pounds and feel that I am cured. “I ought also to say my Wood was in a very had way, but it was thoroughly cleared out by the pills. “My husband was in a state of great worrr during the time T was #0 sick, and now ts more than pleased with the effect the pills have had on me, and has even tried them himself for hea- aches, which they have cnred. I recall, too, one of my frierds in Rochester cried from Joy at secing me so benefited, since they had practically given me up, and I also bad lost all hope. “T have recommended Dr. Williams’ Pink Pills for Pale People to several people and they have proved beneficial to them for complaints similar to mine. “The permancnt cure is due to these pills, and to them I give the credit. (Sizned) Mra. NELLIE J. LORD.” All the elements necessary to give new life richness to the blood and restore shattered nerves are contained, in a condensed form, in Dr. Will- jams’ Pink Pills for Pale People. They are an unfailing specific for such diseases as locomotor hu ataxia, partial paral St. Vitus’ dance, sci- atica, neuralgia rheumatism, nervous headache, the after effect of ln grippe, palpitation of the . pale and sallow complexion, all forms of weakness, either in male or female. Dr. Will- linms’ Pink Pills are sold by all dealers, or will he sent postpaid on receipt of price, 50 cents a six boxes for $2.50 (they are never seld Ik or by the 10 essing Dr. Will- Medicine Co., <. ¥. 1 Scheuectad: Sunday during the year. After the cards are signed they will be tied together with narrow white ribbon. At the close of the year the pledge chains formed will be unit- ed in what will be known as the District chain, and displayed at the meeting of the next annual W T. U. convention. It is hope that it will form an impressive ob- ject lesson. Later the chain will be forwarded to the national superintendent of Sunday school work, who will unite it with those gathered from the different states and form a Na- tional Sunday School Temperance Pledge Chain. The W. T. C. U. hopes to secure the co-operation of all she Sunday schools in the District, both white and colored. Mrs. F. R. Collins was at the meeting unis week, District of Columbia branch of the King’s Daughters and Sons, elected secretary, to succeed Mrs. McDowell, who felt compelled to resign owing to the many duties which have recently devolved upon her. A solemn novena in preparation for the feast of the Immaculate Conception will begin Monday evening at St. Aloysiu: Church. It will be in charge of Kev. 4 O'B. Pardow, S.J. A sermon will be preached and a benediction given each evening at 7:30. Sermons during the Sundays in Ad- vent, commencing tomorrow, will be preached by Rev. James Casey, S8.J.; Rev. John F. Quirk, 8.J.; Rev. Cornelius Gilles- pie, SJ.; Rev. P. Forhan, 8.J.; Rev. Will- iam OB. Pardow, 8.J.; Rev. P. J. O'Con- nell, S.J., and Rev. joysius Brosnahan, 8.J. A course of lectures on the “Priesthood of Christ” will be delivered the Sunday evenings in Advent by Rev. John F. Quirk, S.J., professor of philosophy in Gonzaga College. Tomorrow will be observed in most of the Methodist Episcopal churches of this city as Temperance day. This was the time fixed by the general conference and was intended to be uniform throughout the world in all churches of all denominations. The date, however, was not suitable for the United States. The Presbyterian gen- eral assembly named the third Sunday of October. The Methodist permanent com- mittee concurred, and others are falling into line. Time will be required to secure uniformity. Meantime only a few have ob- served Temperance day. The Methodist permanent committee appeals to all Meth- odist churches to observe the first day practicable. The third Sunday of October has gone by with little attention; the fourth Sunday of November ts at hand. The gen- eral conference gave margin by saying “some proximate day. The permanent committee now urges the observance for this year of the fourth Sunday of Novem- ber or the second Sunday of December, with collections of free-will offerings to aid the permanent committee in its important work. A beautiful statue of St. Joseph, which has been received for St. Peter's Catholic Church, has been much «dmired for its classic beauty and for the delicacy of the work. It was carved in Italy of the purest marble. Rev. Dr. A. A. Crook, the new pastor of the Union Wesley Church, preached an impressive sermon to the Young Men's im- mediate Relief Association last Sunday evening. The discourse was a scholarly one and was highly appreciated. There was a large audience present. The asso- elation raised $31.71, of which $5 was do- mated to the doctor as a smaili token of esteem; the rest was given to the church. A two weeks’ mission will be held in St. Al "s Church by the Redemptorist fathers, beginning the first of Lent, 18¥8. The fourth Sunday in Lent, one week after the mission ends, Cardinal Gibbons will administer the sacrament of confirma- tion. A class is now preparing to receive that sacrament and is being taught by the reverend fathers every Saturday morning at 9 o'clock, in the basement of the hall of the church. A meeting of workers in the colored Sun- day schoo!s of the city will be held Monday mext at the Vermont Avenue Baptist the Sunday schcols represented, as sug- gested at the recent annual convention of the colored Sunday schools of the District. ‘There wes a party given Wednesday night at St. Augustine's rectory by the ladies of the yarish, who brought many dainties for the Thanksgiving dinner. Miss Lizzie Colbert made un address complimentary to the reverend fathers, wishing them a joy- ovs Thankegiving day. The fathers re- spended In a few remarks and gave them alla socvenir,