"Buz, buz!" she answered, with a knowing gesture and a knowing look.

Then, pointing toward the terrace, she added: "A pretty nest! A pretty bird within, I warrant. Her name?"

"Ignorance well feigned," he thought. He replied, however, most graciously: "Nell Gwyn."

"Oh, ho! The King's favourite, who has more power, they say, than great statesmen--like my lord."

Her speech was well defined to draw out his lordship; but he was wary.

"Unless my lord is guided by my lady, as formerly," he replied, diplomatically.

A look of suspicion crept into Portsmouth's face: but it was not visible for want of contrast; for all things have a perverted look by the light of the moon.

She had known Buckingham well at Dover. Their interests there had been one in securing privileges from England for her French King. Both had been well rewarded too for their pains. There were no proofs, however, of this; and where his lordship stood to-day, and which cause he would espouse, she did not know. His eyes at Dover had fallen fondly upon her, but men's eyes fall fondly upon many women, and she would not trust too much until she knew more.

"My chairmen have set me down at the wrong door-step," she said, most sweetly. "My lord longs for his kiss. _Au revoir!_"

She bowed and turned to depart.

Buckingham was alert in an instant. He knew not when the opportunity might come again to deal so happily with Louis's emissary and the place and time of meeting had its advantages.

"Prythee stay, d.u.c.h.ess. I left the merry hunters, returning from Hounslow Heath, all in Portsmouth's interest," he said. "Is this to be my thanks?"

She approached him earnestly. "My lord must explain. I am stupid in fitting English facts to English words."

"Have you forgotten Dover?" he asked, intensely, but subdued in voice, "and my pledges sworn to?--the treaty at the Castle?--the d.u.c.h.ess of Orleans?--the Grand Monarch?"

"Hush!" exclaimed Portsmouth, clutching his arm and looking cautiously about.

"If my services to you there were known," he continued, excitedly, "and to the great cause--the first step in making England pensioner of France and Holland the va.s.sal of Louis--my head would pay the penalty. Can you not trust me still?"

"You are on strange ground to-night," suggested Portsmouth, tossing her head impatiently to indicate the terrace, as she tried to fathom the real man.

"I thought the King might pa.s.s this way, and came to see," hastily explained his lordship, observing that she was reflecting upon the incongruity of his friendship for her and of his visit to Madame Gwyn.

"And if he did?" she asked, dubiously, not seeing the connection.

"I have a plan to make his visits less frequent, Louise,--for your sweet sake and mine."

The man was becoming master. He had pleased her, and she was beginning to believe.

"Yes?" she said, in a way which might mean anything, but certainly that she was listening, and intently listening too.

"You have servants you can trust?" he asked.

"I have," she replied as quickly; and she gloried in the thought that some at least were as faithful as Louis's court afforded.

"They must watch Nell's terrace here, night and day," he almost commanded in his eagerness, "who comes out, who goes in and the hour.

She may forget her royal lover; and--well--we shall have witnesses in waiting. We owe this kindness--to his Majesty."

Portsmouth shrugged her shoulders impatiently. "_Mon Dieu!_" she said. "My servants have watched, my lord, already. The despatches would have been signed and Louis's army on the march against the Dutch but for this vulgar player-girl, whom I have never seen. The King forgets all else."

The beautiful d.u.c.h.ess was piqued, indeed, that the English King should be so swayed. She felt that it was a personal disgrace--an insult to her charms and to her culture. She felt that the court knew it and laughed, and she feared that Louis soon would know. Nell Gwyn! How she hated her--scarce less than she loved Louis and her France.

"Be of good cheer," suggested Buckingham, soothingly; and he half embraced her. "My messenger shall await your signal, to carry the news to Louis and his army."

"There is no news," replied she, and turned upon him bitterly. "Charles evades me. Promise after promise to sup with me broken. I expected him to-night. My spies warned me he would not come; that he is hereabouts again. I followed myself to see. I have the papers with me always. If I can but see the King alone, it will not take long to dethrone this up-start queen; wine, sweet words--England's sign-manual."

There was a confident smile on her lips as she reflected upon her personal powers, which had led Louis XIV. of France to entrust a great mission to her. His lordship saw his growing advantage. He would make the most of it.

"In the last event you have the ball!" he suggested, hopefully.

"Aye, and we shall be prepared," she cried. "But Louis is impatient to strike the blow for Empire unhampered by British sympathy for the Dutch, and the ball is--"

"A fortnight off," interrupted Buckingham, with a smile.

"And my messenger should be gone to-night," she continued, irritably.

She approached him and whispered cautiously: "I have to-day received another note from Bouillon. Louis relies upon me to win from Charles his consent to the withdrawal of the British troops from Holland. This will insure the fall of Luxembourg--the key to our success. You see, Buckingham, I must not fail. England's debas.e.m.e.nt shall be won."

There was a whistle down the path.

"Some one comes!" she exclaimed. "My chair!"

The page, who had given the signal, came running to her. Her chairmen too were prompt.

"Join me," she whispered to Buckingham, as he a.s.sisted her to her seat within.

"Later, Louise, later," he replied. "I must back to the neighbouring inn, before the huntsmen miss me."

Portsmouth waved to the chairmen, who moved silently away among the trees.

Buckingham stood looking after them, laughing.

"King Charles, a French girl from Louis's court will give me the keys to England's heart and her best honours," he muttered.

He glanced once again quickly at the windows of the house, and then, with altered purpose, swaggered away down a side path. He was well pleased with his thoughts, well pleased with his chance interview with the beautiful d.u.c.h.ess and well pleased with himself. His brain wove and wove moonbeam webs of intrigue as he pa.s.sed through the light and shadow of the night, wherein he would lend a helping hand to France and secure gold and power for his pains. He had no qualms of conscience; for must not his estates be kept, his dignity maintained? His purpose was clear.

He would bring Portsmouth and the King closer together: and what England lost, he would gain--and, therefore, England; for was not he himself a part of England, and a great part?

Then too he must and would have Nell.

CHAPTER VI

Softly on tiptoe; Here Nell doth lie.

As often happens in life, when one suitor departs, another suitor knocks; and so it happened on this glorious night. The belated suitor was none other than Charles, the Stuart King. He seemed in the moonlight the picture of royalty, of romance, of dignity, of carelessness, of indifference--the royal vagabond of wit, of humour and of love. A well-thumbed "Hudibras" bulged from his pocket. He was alone, save for some pretty spaniels that played about him. He heeded them not. His thoughts were of Nell.