Part 12 (1/2)
”Methought I heard voices tuned to love,” he mused, as he glanced about.
”What knave has spied out the secret of her bower? Ho, Rosamond, my Rosamond! Why came I here again to-night? What is there in this girl, this Nell? And yet her eyes, how like the pretty maid's who pa.s.sed me the cup that day at the cottage where we rested. Have I lived really to love--I, Solomon's rival in the entertainment of the fair,--to have my heart-strings torn by this roguish player?”
His reflections were broken in upon by the hunters' song in the distance. The music was so in harmony with the night that the forest seemed enchanted.
”Hush; music!” he exclaimed, softly, as he lent himself reluctantly to the spell, which pervaded everything as in a fairyland. ”Odds, moonlight was once for me as well the light for revels, baccha.n.a.ls and frolics; yet now I linger another evening by Nell's terrace, mooning like a lover o'er the memory of her eyes and entranced by the hunters' song.”
[Ill.u.s.tration: THE KING PROFESSES HIS LOVE FOR NELL.]
The singers were approaching. The King stepped quickly beneath the trellis, in an angle of the wall, and waited. Their song grew richer, as melodious as the night, but it struck a discord in his soul. He was thinking of a pair of eyes.
”Cease those discordant jangles,” he exclaimed impatiently to himself; ”cease, I say! No song except for Nell! Nell! Pour forth your sweetest melody for Nell!”
The hunters stopped as by intuition before the terrace. A goodly company they were, indeed; there were James and Rochester and others of the court returning from the day's hunt. There was Buckingham too, who had rejoined them as they left the inn. The music died away.
”Whose voice was that?” asked James, as he caught the sound of the King's impatient exclamation from the corner of the wall.
”Some dreamer of the night,” laughed Buckingham. ”Yon love-sick fellow, methinks,” he continued, pointing to a figure, well aloof beneath the trees, who was watching the scene most jealously. It was none other than Hart, who rarely failed to have an eye on Nell's terrace and who instantly stole away in the darkness.
”This is the home of Eleanor Gwyn we are pa.s.sing,” said Rochester, superfluously; for all knew full well that it was Nelly's terrace.
”The love-lorn seer is wise,” cried the Duke of York, quite forgetting his frigid self as he bethought him of Nell, and becoming quite lover-like, as he, sighing, said: ”It were well to make peace with Nelly. Sing, hunters, sing!”
The command was quickly obeyed and the voices well attuned; for none were there but wors.h.i.+pped Nelly.
Hail to the moonbeams'
Crystal spray, Nestling in Heaven All the day, Falling by night-time, Silvery showers, Twining with love-rhyme Nell's fair bowers.
Sing, hunters, sing, Gently carolling, Here lies our hart-- Sleeping, sleeping, sleeping.
Hail to the King's oaks, Sentries blest, Spreading their branches, Guarding her rest, Telling the breezes, Hastening by: ”Softly on tiptoe; Here Nell doth lie.”
Sing, hunters, sing, Gently carolling, Here lies our hart-- Sleeping, sleeping, sleeping.
The King heard the serenade to the end, then stepped gaily from his hiding-place.
”Brother James under Nelly's window!” he said, with a merry laugh.
”The King!” exclaimed James, in startled accents, as he realized the presence of his Majesty and the awkward position in which he and his followers were placed.
”The King!” repeated the courtiers. Hats were off and knees were bent respectfully.
”Brother,” saluted Charles, as he embraced the Duke of York good-naturedly.
Buckingham withdrew a few steps. He was the most disturbed at the presence of the King at Nelly's bower. ”As I feared,” he thought. ”Devil take his Majesty's meandering heart.”
”Odsfish,” laughed Charles, ”we must guard our Nelly, or James and his saintly followers will rob her bower by moonlight.”
The Duke of York a.s.sumed a devout and dignified mien. ”Sire,” he attempted to explain, but was interrupted quickly by his Majesty.