CHAPTER II


When I was out in the air I stopped short; and then remembering that Mr.
Chiffinch would be after me perhaps, and would try to prevent me, I went
on as quick as I could, turned a corner or two in that maze of passages,
and stopped again. As yet I had no idea as to what to do; my brain
burned with horror and fury; and I stood there in the dark, clenching my
hands again and again, with my whip in one of them. It was enough for me
that my Cousin Dolly was in that den of tigers and serpents that was
called the Court, and under the protection of the woman once called
Carwell. There was not one thought in my brain but this--all others were
gone, or were but as phantoms--the King, the Duke, Monmouth, the
Queen--they would be so many wicked ghosts, and no more--before me--and
I would go through them as through smoke, to tear her out of it.

I suppose that some species of sanity returned to me after a while, for
I found myself presently pacing up and down the terrace by the river,
and considering that this was a strange hour--eight o'clock at night, to
be searching out one of Her Majesty's ladies; and, after that, little by
little, persons and matters began to take their right proportions on
them again. I could not, I perceived, merely demand where Mistress
Jermyn lodged, beat down her door and carry her away with me safe to
Hare Street. Their Majesties of England still stood for something in
Whitehall, and so did reason and commonsense, and Dolly's own good name.
I began to perceive that matters were not so simple.