It was a function intended to be memorable, the Lord Regent going in state, attended by 150 Yeomen, King-at-Arms, six heralds and all Heralds' College, to be met at Temple Bar by my Lord Mayor, that day made a baronet, with his Sheriffs and Aldermen on horseback; the Guildhall in blue velvet, the platform at the east end bearing rows of squat gold chairs, while a canopy of deep-blue velvet, lined with light-blue sarcenet, dropped ponderous draperies, tied back with gold ropes, over the floor; on the canopy-front being Sword and Sceptre, the Royal Crown of Britain, and the Diadem of the Sea; the canopy table and the other looking like a short and a long wine-banquet of the Magi in Ophir: present being members of the British Royal House, Amba.s.sadors to Britain and the Sea, the two Archbishops, Ministers, the Speaker, Officers, Fort-Admirals, the Regent's Household, the chief n.o.bility, the City personages.

Farthest from the short royal table, near the foot of the long, where the dishes were _kosher_ for a Jewish colony, sat Frankl, and opposite him Margaret; and that face of Frankl was pinched and worn.

He prayed continually: "May G.o.d be my Rock and my High Tower; may the Almighty be my Shield this night...." while in two minutes Margaret had begun to be a wonder to her neighbours--heaved sighs, threw herself, beat plate with knife, hummed a little, yet conscious of wrong-doing, her eyes fixed upon Frankl.

"Oh, my!" her sigh heaved mortally, head tumbling dead on shoulder.

"Are you--unwell?" asked a startled neighbour, all shirt-front, eye-gla.s.s and delicacy.

"I see a long table with gold plates", she whined pitifully, "on every plate an eyeball dying...."

Frankl controlled her with a glance of anger.

And in the second course after turtle, with a fainting prayer to Jehovah, the Jew clandestinely held up a forefinger; upon which she, after some hesitation, remembered the signal, and like a dart shot to her feet.

Now every eye fastened upon her, from Regent's and Prince's to the bottom, those near her, who knew her now, feeling a miserable heart-shrinking of shame.

With sideward head she stood some seconds, smiling; and she sighed: "My name is Rachel--"

But soon, her mood now rushing into sprightliness, she stamped, and with an active alacrity of eye, sang:

"Will you come to the wedding?

Will you come?

Bring your own bread-and-b.u.t.ter, And your own tea-and-sugar, And we'll all pay a penny for the Rum, Rum, Rum, We'll all pay a penny for the Rum".

The Regent had risen, while Frankl, calm now in reaction, gazed sweetly upon his face: the vengeance of a Jew--nor was he half done with vengeance. Certainly, Hogarth was pale: he had sought her long, and found her _so_. "Why it is my own heart", he thought, "and they have made her mad".

One moment a stab of shame pierced him at the reflection: "_Here!_" but in the next his heart yearned upon her, and he rose nimbly and naturally far beyond Lord Mayor and Prince, and the rut of the world. After a perfectly deliberate bow, he left his place, and walked down the length of the hall to her, amid the gaping G.o.ds, Loveday, too, and three others, when he was half-way, following.

He had her hand, touched her temple lightly, yet compellingly, healingly....

"Dear, don't you know me?--Richard?--_d.i.c.k?_"

No, but at sight of Loveday some kind of recognition seemed to light, and die, in her eyes.

"Will you come, dear, and sit up yonder with me?" Hogarth asked, his face a mask of emotion.

Wearily she shook her head; and "John", said Hogarth, "take her home"; whereupon Loveday led her out, the Regent returning to the canopy.

Half an hour later he found it _a propos_ of something to say to the Prince: "That lady who sang is my sister, Your Royal Highness--seems to have been subjected to gross cruelties, and has gone crazy".

The next morning everyone knew that she was the Regent's sister; and a man said to a man: "There is madness in the family, then...."

XLVIII

THE SEA-FORTS

The second-reading of the Land Bill had pa.s.sed by a 59 majority: and it would now have been easy work to hurry through its remaining stages in a couple of weeks; but the Regent had awaited the nation's verdict in the return of the 120 to fill the Jewish seats, sure of the result.

So the 23rd was a great night--the third-reading--the majority 115 at 8 P.M.; and the next day, which was marked by a very brilliant levee, the Bill was before the Lords.

This stage it might easily have reached four weeks before, but had been shelved for the election of the 120: and in those weeks the four copies of the _Mahomet II_. had been launched.

And suddenly--bad news from Palestine: news that there, too, after all the safeguards, the greed of a few was working to plant the old European wrong: for, the Sanhedrim being short of funds for a railway, a syndicate of five merchant-princes had offered to buy from it an estate between Jerusalem and the Jordan, and when the Chief Rabbi had pointed out that the offer was monstrous, in view of the terms of the Sea's Deed of Gift, a fierce discussion had ensued, a schism; and although the syndicate's offer had been rejected by 27, at the next session the defeated leader, like some warlike Maccabaeus, had surged with his faction and a hundred Arabs into the Mosque of Omar where the Sanhedrim met, to cast those who did not escape by flight into prison in the Pasha's Palace. In the hands of his clique the Government remained.

Such was the news....

It was followed in three days by a Representation to the Regent, signed by 90,000 Jews in Palestine, the fourth name being Rebekah Frankl's, they imploring him for their sinking ship just launched, calling him "Father".

For though the Jews had been content to see that Europe which they contemned parcelled out among a few, while the ma.s.s of men hovered countryless--from this had arisen their lucre--their mental quality was too rich in business shrewdness to tolerate in their own case any such Bedlam: yet they stood helpless before the disaster, and only in the Regent was hope.

On that night of the arrival of their Pet.i.tion, the Prime Minister and the Commander-in-Chief dined in the Palace, placid men at the moment when soup began, the Regent's sky quite clear, for, though a rumour whispered that the Lords were designedly lengthening discussion of the Bill, this gave no one any concern.

During entremets, however, a scribbled card was pa.s.sed into the hand of the Commander-in-Chief, and, as he read, his eyebrows lifted. Craving permission, he hurried out, had some talk with his Director of Military Intelligence, and returned pale.

Afterwards, as they three sat on a balcony overlooking the lake, with cigars, the Regent said: "I have thought, Sir Robert Wortley, of sending out at once two thousand Tommies under, say, General Sir John Clough, to the help of those poor Jews...."

Here the Commander-in-Chief cleared his throat, and in a strained voice interfered: "That is, my Lord King, if we ourselves have not need of every soldier of the line within the next week".

The Regent deposited his ash with peering eyes, puzzled.

"What does your Lordship mean?"

"Your Lordship's Majesty, I was summoned from dinner just now to talk with Major-General Sir Maurice Coppleston, who reports movements of armed men, just come to his knowledge, and now going forward on a considerable scale, all northward. He gathers that these can only consist of Territorials and Yeomanry Cavalry, of whom not less than twelve battalions of rifles and three batteries of artillery, officers and men, are now on the way to, or ma.s.sed upon, York. How widely the movement may actually extend--G.o.d knows".

Silence now: Sir Robert Wortley suddenly whitening to the lips. Then Hogarth, in a very low voice, said: "They do not know me".

"If I may crave leave to retire at once--" from the Commander-in-Chief; and Hogarth gave consent.

Queer things, omens, doubtings, weird clouds, gathered about Hogarth that night. When at eleven he gave audience to Admiral Quilter-Beckett, arrived from the _Boodah_ Quilter-Beckett said: "Strange the fine weather here: at sea it is quite rough, the _Boodah_ well under foam, and that old _Campania_ pitches so--"

"You have come, then, in the _Campania_?"--from Hogarth.

"Yes, my Lord King".

"And what about the yacht?"

"Oh, the yacht: in her I have sent the two hundred men to the _Mahomet_".

"_Which_ two hundred men, Admiral?"

Quilter-Beckett stared.

"Your Lordship's Majesty has forgotten: I had instructions that you desired some interchanges among the garrisons, and had ordered the sending of two hundred of my men to the _Mahomet_, I to receive in return two hundred from her".