"Well, you see, d.u.c.h.ess," said Nell, "we had an adventure. It was dark; and we were more solicitous to know whither the way than whence."

The d.u.c.h.ess broke into a merry laugh. The youth had captured her, with his wistful, Irish eyes, his brogue and his roguish ways.

"We give a ball to-night," she said, gaily. "You shall stay and see the King."

"The King!" cried Nell, feigning fright. "I should tremble so to see the King."

"You need not fear," laughed the hostess. "He will not know you."

"I trust not, truly," sighed Nell, with much meaning, as she scanned her scanty masculine attire.

"Take my mask," said the d.u.c.h.ess, graciously. "As hostess, I cannot wear it."

Nell seized it eagerly. She would be safe with this little band of black across her eyes. Even the King would not know her.

"I shall feel more comfortable behind this," she said, navely.

"Did you ever mask?" inquired Portsmouth, gaily.

[Ill.u.s.tration: AS A CAVALIER MISTRESS NELL DECEIVES EVEN THE KING.]

"Nay, I am too honest to deceive," answered Nell; and her eyes grew so round and so big, who would not believe her?

"But you are at court now," laughed the d.u.c.h.ess, patronizingly. "Masking is the first sin at court."

"Then I'll begin with the first sin," said Nell, slyly, raising the d.u.c.h.ess's fingers to her lips, "and run the gamut."

They pa.s.sed together into the great ball-room, Nell exercising all her arts of fascination--and they were many. The music ceased as they entered. The dancers, and more especially the ladies, eyed curiously the jaunty figure of the new-comer. There were merry whisperings among them.

"Who can he be?" asked one, eagerly. "What a pretty fellow!" exclaimed a second, in admiration. "I've been eying him," said a third, complacently.

The men too caught the infection.

"Who can he be?" inquired Rochester.

"Marry, I'll find out," said Lady Hamilton, with an air of confidence, having recovered by this time from the kisses which had been thrust upon her and being now ready for a new flirtation.

She approached Adair, artfully, and inquired: "Who art thou, my b.u.t.terfly? Tell me now, e'er I die." Her att.i.tude was a credit to the extremes of euphuism.

There was general laughter at her presumptuous and effete pose and phrase.

The ladies had gathered about the new hero, like bees about new clover.

The gallants stood, or sat as wall-flowers in a row, deserted. The King too had been abandoned for the lion of the hour and sat disconsolate.

"Peace, jealous ones!" cried Lady Hamilton, reprovingly, then continued, with a winning way: "I know thou art Apollo himself, good sir."

Nell smiled complacently, though she felt her mask, to a.s.sure herself that it was firm.

"Apollo, truly," she said, jauntily, "if thou art his lyre, sweet lady."

Lady Hamilton turned to the d.u.c.h.ess.

"Oh, your grace," she asked, languishingly, "tell us in a breath, tell us, who is this dainty beau of the ball?"

"How am I to know my guests," answered Portsmouth, feigning innocence, "with their vizors down? Nay, sweet sir, unmask and please the ladies.

I'faith, who art thou?"

The hostess was delighted. The popularity of the new-comer was lending a unique novelty to her entertainment. She was well pleased that she had detained Monsieur Adair. She thought she saw a jealous look in the King's usually carelessly indifferent gaze when she encouraged the affectionate glances of the Irish youth.

"I'faith," laughed Nell, in reply, "I know not, d.u.c.h.ess."

"D'ye hear?" said Portsmouth. "He knows not himself."

"But I have a suspicion, d.u.c.h.ess," sighed Nell.

"Hark ye," laughed Portsmouth, with a very pretty pout, "he has a suspicion, ladies."

"Nay, you will tell?" protested Nell, as the ladies gathered closer about her in eager expectation.

There was a unison of voices to the contrary.

"Trust us, fair sir," said one. "Oh, we are good at keeping secrets."

"Then, 'twixt you and me, I am--" began Nell; and she hesitated, teasingly.

The group about grew more eager, more wild with curiosity.

"Yes, yes--" they exclaimed together.

"I am," said Nell, "the Pied Piper of Hamlin Town."

"The rat-catcher," cried Portsmouth. "Oh, oh, oh!"

There was a lifting of skirts, revealing many high-born insteps, and a scramble for chairs, as the ladies reflected upon the long lines of rats in the train of the mesmeric Pied Piper.

"Flee, flee!" screamed Lady Hamilton, playfully. "He may pipe us into the mountains after the children."

"You fill me with laughter, ladies," said Portsmouth to her guests. "The man does not live who can entrap me."

"The woman does," thought Nell, as, mock-heroically, she placed near her lips a reed-pipe which she had s.n.a.t.c.hed from a musician in the midst of the fun; and, whistling a merry tune which the pipe took no part in, she circled about the room, making quite a wizard's exit.

The ladies, heart and soul in the fun, fell into line and followed, as if spell-bound by the magic of the Piper.

Charles, James, Rochester and the gallants, who remained, each of whom had been in turn deserted by his fair lady, unmasked and looked at one another in wonderment. Of one accord, they burst into a peal of laughter.

"Sublime audacity," exclaimed Charles. "Who is this curled darling--this ball-room Adonis? Ods-pitikins, we are in the sear and yellow leaf."

"Truly, Sire," said James, dryly, "I myself prefer a gathering of men only."