Great Britain -- History -- Restoration, 1660-1688 -- Fiction
But before it was all told a hand touched me upon the shoulder, and a
dry and guttural voice with the one word--"Mistress," made me turn
and confront Mr. Bentinck. His keen eyes seemed to search my
countenance for the answer to some doubt or question in his mind.
"Pray tell me," he said at length, "where is the latter part of His
Highness's sword?"
"It is here, Mr. Bentinck," I answered, laying my hand where I had
concealed that pointed fragment of steel; "here; near the heart it
shall surely pierce if Edward Royston come to harm amongst you."
"I did think," he said, "that you were that boy that braved us all.
And I believe, moreover, that you had great part in the escape of the
priest."
"I had indeed the greatest part of all," I answered, being now
resolved to cast myself upon his mercy; "for without my share the man
had been still fast in your hands. But oh, Mr. Bentinck," I
continued, "why are you his enemy?"
"Enemy! Whose enemy?" cried Mr. Bentinck. "Is it Captain Royston's
you mean?"
"Ay, his," I answered. "Oh! he told me that you loved him not, but
withal has no ill word for you, declaring you always the most honest
of His Highness's servants."
Mr. Bentinck here seemed to muse a little. And then--"I thank him,"
he said. "If he be the same, I were sorry to be his enemy."
"He is honest as the daylight!" I cried. "He has but wronged the
seeming of his honor for another--and that other without fault but in
appearance--as my father now makes plain to His Highness."
"Indeed, Mistress Drayton," he replied, speaking with a gentleness
well-nigh tender, "I do hope he may." And with that he turned from
me as if to rejoin His Highness. But I summoned all my daring to
make a plea yet more fully feminine, being much emboldened thereto by
the softness of his last words.
"Mr. Bentinck, Mr. Bentinck," I whispered eagerly, and he turned
again. "Captain Royston and I were to be wed, if--if--" said I, and
could say no more.
"Ah," said he, "if what?"
"If you--if His Highness destroy us not utterly," I replied. "Grant
us your aid, Mr. Bentinck." And into these words I put, I do
suppose, much prayerfulness of face, voice, and gesture. For he
looked a moment very kindly on the clasped hands and streaming eyes
that begged his help.
"Do not weep, mistress," he said. "You shall have all I may give,"
and so turned his back upon me.
And here the Prince came a little toward me. "It is truly a tale of
romance, Sir Michael," he said. "Here was I vainly seeking the
serpent, and, lo! there is none but Eve." And then to me: "Come
hither, Mistress Eve," he said. So I went over to him, and made
before him a courtesy very deep and humble. "I do like you better
thus, child," he went on, "than booted and spurred. Is this a true
history that I hear?"
"So please Your Highness," I answered, "'t is true as the Gospel."
"How so?" he asked, smiling. "You have not heard it."
"But it was my father," said I, "that told it."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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