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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..d7b82bc --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,4 @@ +*.txt text eol=lf +*.htm text eol=lf +*.html text eol=lf +*.md text eol=lf diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6312041 --- /dev/null +++ b/LICENSE.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11 @@ +This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements, +metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be +in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES. + +Procedures for determining public domain status are described in +the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org. + +No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in +jurisdictions other than the United States. Anyone seeking to utilize +this eBook outside of the United States should confirm copyright +status under the laws that apply to them. diff --git a/README.md b/README.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..50f0da0 --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #50329 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/50329) diff --git a/old/50329-8.txt b/old/50329-8.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 7090165..0000000 --- a/old/50329-8.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,19244 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Woodman, by George Payne Rainsford James - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most -other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of -the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at -www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you'll have -to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook. - - - -Title: The Woodman - A Romance of the Times of Richard III - -Author: George Payne Rainsford James - -Release Date: October 27, 2015 [EBook #50329] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE WOODMAN *** - - - - -Produced by Charles Bowen from page scans provided by -Google Books (the Bavarian State Library) - - - - - - - - - - - -Transcriber's Notes: - 1. Page scan source: - https://books.google.com/books?id=PfdLAAAAcAAJ - (the Bavarian State Library) - 2. The diphthong oe is represented by [oe]. - - - - - - - -THE WOODMAN; - - - -A ROMANCE - -OF - -THE TIMES OF RICHARD III. - - - - - -BY G. P. R. JAMES. - - - -AUTHOR OF "DARNLEY," "THE SMUGGLER," "THE CONVICT," "MARGARET GRAHAM," -"THE FORGERY," ETC. - - - - - - - - - -PARIS, - -A. AND W. GALIGNANI AND Co., BAUDRY'S EUROPEAN LIBRARY, - -RUE VIVIENNE, No. 18. QUAI MALAQUAIS, No. 3. - - -1849 - - - - - - - - - - - - - -THE WOODMAN; - -A ROMANCE OF THE TIMES OF RICHARD III. - -BY G. P. R. JAMES. - - - - -CHAPTER I. - - -Of all the hard-working people on the earth, there are none so -serviceable to her neighbours as the moon. She lights lovers and -thieves. She keeps watch-dogs waking. She is a constant resource to -poets and romance-writers. She helps the compounders of almanacks -amazingly. She has something to do with the weather, and the tides, -and the harvest; and in short she has a finger in every man's pie, and -probably more or less effect upon every man's brain. She is a charming -creature in all her variations. Her versatility is not the offspring -of caprice; and she is constant in the midst of every change. - -I will have a moon, say what you will, my dear Prebend; and she shall -more or less rule every page of this book. - -There was a sloping piece of ground looking to the south east, with a -very small narrow rivulet running at the bottom. On the opposite side -of the stream was another slope, as like the former as possible, only -looking in the opposite direction. Titian, and Vandyke, and some other -painters, have pleased themselves with depicting, in one picture, the -same face in two or three positions; and these two slopes looked -exactly like the two profiles of one countenance. Each had its little -clumps of trees scattered about. Each had here and there a hedgerow, -somewhat broken and dilapidated; and each too had towards its northern -extremity a low chalky bank, through which the stream seemed to have -forced itself, in those good old times when rivers first began to go -on pilgrimages towards the sea, and, like many other pilgrims that we -wot of made their way through all obstacles in a very unceremonious -manner. - -Over these two slopes about the hour of half past eleven, post -meridian, the moon was shining with a bright but fitful sort of -splendour; for ever and anon a light fleecy cloud, like a piece of -swansdown borne by the wind, would dim the brightness of her rays, and -cast a passing shadow on the scene below. Half an hour before, indeed, -the radiant face of night's sweet queen had been veiled by a blacker -curtain, which had gathered thick over the sky at the sun's decline; -but, as the moon rose high, those dark vapours became mottled with -wavy lines of white, and gradually her beams seemed to drink them up. - -It may be asked if those two sloping meadows, with their clumps of -trees, and broken hedgerows, and the little stream flowing on between -them, was all that the moonlight showed? That would depend upon where -the eye of the observer was placed. Near the lower part of the valley, -formed by the inclination of the land, nothing else could be -perceived; but walk half way up towards the top, on either side, and -the scene was very much altered. Gradually rising, as the eye rose, -appeared, stretching out beyond the chalky banks to the north, through -which the rivulet came on, a large-grey indistinct mass stretching all -along from east to west, the rounded lines of which, together with -some misty gaps, taking a blueish white tint in the moonlight, showed -it to be some ancient forest, lying at the distance probably of two or -three miles from the spot first mentioned. - -But there were other objects displayed by the moonlight; for as those -soft clouds, sweeping rapidly past, varied her light, and cast bright -gleams or grey shadows on the ground, every here and there, especially -on the south western slope, a brilliant spot would sparkle forth, -flashing back the rays; and a nearer look showed naked swords, and -breast-plates, and casques, while every now and then, under the -increasing light, that which seemed a hillock took the form of a horse -or of a human being, lying quietly on the green turf, or cast -motionless down beneath a hedge or an old hawthorn tree. - -Were they sleeping there in that dewy night? Ay, sleeping that sleep -which fears not the blast, nor the tempest nor the dew, which the -thunder cannot break, and from which no trumpet but one shall ever -rouse the sleeper. - -From sunset till that hour, no living thing, unless it were fox or -wolf, had moved upon the scene. The battle was over, the pursuers -recalled, the wounded removed; the burial of the dead, if it was to be -cared for at all, postponed till another day; and all the fierce and -base passions which are called forth by civil contest had lain down to -sleep before the hour of which I speak. Even the human vulture, which -follows on the track of warring armies to feed upon the spoils of the -dead, had gorged itself upon that field, and left the rich arms and -housings to be carried away on the morning following. - -The fiercer and the baser passions, I have said, now slept; but there -were tenderer affections which woke, and through that solemn and sad -scene, with no light but that of the moon, with no sound but that of -the sighing wind, some four or five persons were seen wandering about, -half an hour before midnight. Often, as they went, they bent down at -this spot or at that, and gazed at some object on the ground. -Sometimes one of them would kneel, and twice they turned over a dead -body which had fallen with the face downwards. For more than an hour -they went on, pausing at times to speak to each other, and then -resuming their examination--I know not whether to call it search; for -certainly they seemed to find nothing if they did search, although -they left hardly a square yard of the whole field unexplored. - -It was nearly one o'clock on the following morning, when with slow -steps they took their way over the rise; and the next moment the sound -of horses' feet going at a quick pace broke the silence. That sound, -in the absence of every other noise, might be heard for nearly ten -minutes; and then all was stillness and solitude once more. - - - - -CHAPTER II. - - -Years had passed, long years, since the little scene took place which -I have described in the preceding chapter. The heads were grey which -were then proud of the glossy locks of youth. Middle life was -approaching old age; and children had become men. - -It was evening. The sun had gone down some two hours before; and the -lights were lighted in a large comfortable well-furnished room. The -ceilings were vaulted. The doorways and the two windows were richly -decorated with innumerable mouldings; and the discoloured stone work -around them, the clustered pillars at the sides, the mullions which -divided the windows, and the broad pointed arches above, spoke that -style of architecture known as the early English. The tables, the -chairs, the cupboard at the side, were all of old oak, deep in colour -and rich in ornament. The floor was covered with rushes, over which, -in the centre, was spread a piece of tapestry; and the stone work of -the walls between the pillars was hidden by tapestry likewise, on one -side representing the siege of Troy, on the other the history of David -and Goliath, and on a third the loves of Mars and Venus, which, though -somewhat too luscious for our irritable imaginations, did not in those -days at all shock the chaste inhabitants of a nunnery. The fourth side -of the room was untapestried, for there spread the immense, wide, open -chimney, with a pile of blazing logs on the hearth, and, in the open -space above the arch, a very early painting of the Madonna and child, -with gilt glories around the heads of both, and the meek eyes of the -virgin fixed upon the somewhat profuse charms of the goddess of love -on the other side. - -This is description enough. The reader can easily conceive the parlour -of an abbess towards the end of the fifteenth century, the -heterogeneous contents of which would be somewhat tedious to detail. - -Let no one, however, form a false idea of the poor abbess of -Atherston, from the admission into her own private chamber of such -very ungodly personages as Mars and Venus. She had found them there -when she became abbess of the convent, and looked upon them and their -loves as upon any other piece of needlework. Nay, more, had it ever -occurred to her that there was anything improper in having them there, -she would probably have removed them, though to get a more decent -piece of tapestry might have cost her four or five marks. Not that she -was at all stiff, rigid, and severe, for she was the merriest little -abbess in the world; but she combined with great gaiety of heart an -infinite deal of innocence and simplicity, which were perfectly -compatible with some shrewdness and good sense. Shut up in a convent -at a very early period, exposed to none of the vicissitudes of life, -and untaught the corrupting lessons of the world, her cheerfulness had -been economised, her simplicity unimpaired, and her natural keenness -of intellect unblunted, though there might be here and there a spot of -rust upon the blade. It was without her own consent she had gone into -a convent, but neither with nor against her wishes. She had been quite -indifferent; and, never having had any means of judging of other -states of life, she was not discontented with her lot, and rather -pitied than otherwise those who were forced to dwell in a world of -which she knew nothing. - -As piety however had nothing to do with her profession, and -mortification had never entered into her catalogue of duties, she saw -no sin and could conceive no evil in making herself as comfortable and -happy as she could. Her predecessor indeed had done a little more, and -had not altogether escaped scandal; but our abbess was of a very -different character, performed her ceremonial duties accurately, -abstained from everything that she knew or thought to be wrong, and -while exacting a fulfilment of all prescribed duties from her nuns, -endeavoured to make their seclusion pleasant, by unvarying gentleness, -kindness, and cheerfulness. If she had a fault, perhaps it was a too -great love for the good things of this life. She was exceedingly fond -of trout, and did not altogether dislike a moderate portion of Gascon -wine, especially when it was of a very superior quality. Venison she -could eat; and a well-fed partridge was not unacceptable--though -methinks she might have spared it from its great resemblance to -herself. All these things, and a great number of other dainties, -however, were plentifully supplied by the lands of the convent, which -were ample, and by the stream which flowed near at hand, or by the -large fish-ponds, three in number, which lay upon the common above. -Indeed so abundant was the provision for a fast day, that the abbess -and the nuns looked forward to it, as it came on in the week, with -great satisfaction, from its affording them excuse for eating more -fish than usual. Not that they fared ill on the other days of the -week; for, as far as forest and lea would go, they were well provided. - -To a contented spirit all things are bright; and the good abbess could -have been satisfied with much less than she possessed; so I suppose -whatever little superabundance existed went to make the heart merry -and the tongue glib; and there she sat with her feet on a footstool, -sufficiently near the fire to be somewhat over warm, but yet hardly -near enough for that delicious tingling sensation, which the blaze of -good dry wood produces till we hardly know whether it is pleasant or -painful. In her hand there was a book--a real printed book, rare in -those days, and which might well be looked upon as a treasure. As she -read, she commented to two young girls who sat near with tall frames -before them, running the industrious needle in and out. - -I have called them young girls, not alone to distinguish them from old -ones--though that might be necessary--but to show that they had barely -reached womanhood. The eldest was hardly nineteen; the other some -fourteen or fifteen months younger. Both were beautiful; and there was -a certain degree of likeness between them, though the face of the -elder had features more clearly, perhaps more beautifully, cut, and an -expression of greater thoughtfulness, perhaps greater vigour of -character. Yet the other was very beautiful too, with that sparkling -variety, that constant play of everchanging expression, which is so -charming. Its very youthfulness was delightful, for a gleam of -childhood lingered still in the look, especially when surprised or -pleased, although the lines of the face and the contour of the form -were womanly--perhaps more so than those of the other. - -That they were none of the sisterhood was evident by the mere matter -of their dress, which also indicated that they had not a fixed -intention of ever entering it; for it was altogether worldly in form -and material, and though plain yet rich. Seated there, with a near -relation, their heads were unencumbered with the monstrous -head-dresses of the time, the proportions of which, not very long -before, were so immense as to require doorways to be widened and -lintels raised, in order to let a lady pass in conveniently. Each wore -a light veil, it is true, hanging from the mass of glossy hair behind -the head, and which could be thrown over the face when required; but -it was very different from the veil of the nun or even of the novice. - -"Well, my dear children, I do declare," said the elder lady, "this new -invention of printing may be very clever, and I wot it is; but it is -mighty difficult to read when it is done. I could make out plain court -hand a great deal better when written by a good scribe, such as they -used to have at Winchester and Salisbury." - -The younger girl looked up, answering with a gay laugh. "The poor -people never pretend to make you read it easily, dear aunt and mother. -All they say is that they can make more copies of a book in a day than -a scribe could make in a year, and that they can let you have for -three or four shillings what would cost you three or four crowns from -a scribe." - -"Ay, that's the worst of it all, child," replied the old lady, shaking -her head. "Books will get into the hands of all sorts of common -people, and do a world of mischief, good lack. But it can't be helped, -my children. The world and the devil will have their way; and, even if -there were a law made against any one learning to read or write under -the rank of a lord at least, it would only make others the more eager -to do it. But I do think that this invention ought to be stopped; for -it will do a world of mischief, I am sure." - -"I hope not," replied the other young lady; "for by no contrivance can -they ever make books so cheap, that the lower class can read them; and -I know I have often wished I had a book to read when I have had -nothing else to do. It's a great comfort sometimes, my dear aunt, -especially when one is heavy." - -"Ay, that it is, child," said the abbess; "I know that right well. I -don't know what I should have done after the battle of Barnet, if it -had not been for poor old Chaucer. My grandfather remembered him very -well, at the court of John of Ghent; and he gave me the merry book, -when I was not much older than you are. Well-a-day, I must read it -again, when you two leave me; for my evenings will be dull enough -without you, children. I would ask sister Bridget to come in of a -night, in the winter, and do her embroidery beside me, only if she -staid for my little private supper, her face would certainly turn the -wine sour." - -"But, perhaps we shall not go after all, dear mother," said the -younger lady. "Have you heard anything about it?" - -"There now," cried the abbess, laughing, "she's just as wild to get -into the wicked world as a caged bird to break out into the open air." - -"To be sure I am," exclaimed the light-hearted girl; "and oh, how I -will use my wings." - -The abbess gazed at her with a look of tender, almost melancholy, -interest, and replied: - -"There are limed twigs about them, my child. You forget that you are -married." - -"No, not married," cried the other, with her face all glowing. -"Contracted, not married--I wish I was, for the thought frightens me, -and then the worst would be over." - -"You don't know what you wish," replied the abbess, shaking her head. -"A thousand to one, you would very soon wish to be unmarried again; -but then it would be too late. It is a collar you can't shake off when -you have once put it on; and nobody can tell how much it may pinch one -till it has been tried. I thank my lucky stars that made it convenient -for your good grandfather to put me in here; for whenever I go out -quietly on my little mule, to see after the affairs of the farms, and -perchance to take a sidelong look at our good foresters coursing a -hare, I never can help pitying the two dogs coupled together, and -pulling at the two ends of a band they cannot break, and thanking my -good fortune for not tying me up in a leash with any one." - -The two girls laughed gaily; for, to say truth, they had neither of -them any vocation for cloisteral life; but the youngest replied, -following her aunt's figure of speech, "I dare say the dogs are very -like two married people, my aunt and lady mother; but I dare say too, -if you were to ask either of them, whether he would rather go out into -the green fields tied to a companion, or remain shut up in a kennel, -he would hold out his neck for the couples." - -"Why, you saucy child, do you call this a kennel?" asked the abbess, -shaking her finger at her good-humouredly. "What will young maids come -to next? But it is as well as it is; since thou art destined for the -world and its vanities, 'tis lucky thou hast a taste for them; and I -trust thy husband--as thou must have one--will not beat thee above -once a-week, and that on the Saturday, to make thee more devout on the -Sunday following. Is he a ferocious-looking man?" - -"Lord love thee, my dear aunt," answered the young lady; "I have never -seen him since I was in swaddling clothes." - -"And he was in a sorry-coloured pinked doublet, with a gay cloak on -his shoulders, and a little bonnet on his head no bigger than the palm -of my hand," cried the other young lady. "He could not be ten years -old, and looked like some great man's little page. I remember it quite -well, for I had seen seven years; and I thought it a great shame that -my cousin Iola should have a husband given to her at five, and I none -at seven." - -"Given to her!" said the abbess, laughing. - -"Well," rejoined the young lady, "I looked upon it as a sort of -doll--a poppet." - -"Not far wrong either, my dear," answered the abbess; "only you must -take care how you knock its nose against the floor, or you may find -out where the difference lies." - -"Good lack, I have had dolls enough," answered the younger lady, "and -could well spare this other one. But what must be must be; so there is -no use to think of it.--Don't you believe, lady mother," she continued -after a pause, interrupted by a sigh, "that it would be better if they -let people choose husbands and wives for themselves?" - -"Good gracious!" cried the abbess, "what is the child thinking of? -Pretty choosing there would be, I dare say. Why lords' daughters would -be taking rosy-cheeked franklins' sons; and barons' heirs would be -marrying milkmaids." - -"I don't believe it," said the young lady. "Each would choose, I -think, as they had been brought up; and there would be more chance of -their loving when they did wed." - -"Nonsense, nonsense, Iola," cried her aunt. "What do you know about -love--or I either for that matter? Love that comes after marriage is -most likely to last, for, I suppose, like all other sorts of plants, -it only lives a certain time and then dies away; so that if it begins -soon, it ends soon." - -"I should like my love to be like one of the trees of the park," said -the young lady, looking down thoughtfully, "growing stronger and -stronger, as it gets older, and outliving myself." - -"You must seek for it in fairyland then, my dear," said the abbess. -"You will not find it in this sinful world." - -Just as she spoke, the great bell of the abbey, which hung not far -from the window of the abbess's parlour, rang deep and loud; and the -sound, unusual at that hour of the night, made the good old lady -start. - -"Virgin mother!" she exclaimed--it was the only little interjection -she allowed herself. "Who can that be coming two hours after curfew?" -and running to the door, with more activity than her plumpness seemed -to promise, she exclaimed, "Sister Magdalen, sister Magdalen, do not -let them open the gate; let them speak through the barred wicket." - -"It is only Boyd, the woodman, lady," replied a nun, who was at the -end of a short passage looking out into the court. - -"What can he want at this hour?" said the abbess. "Could he not come -before sundown? Well, take him into the parlour by the little door. I -will come to him in a minute;" and returning into her own room again, -the good lady composed herself after her agitation, by a moment's rest -in her great chair; and, after expressing her surprise more than once, -that the woodman should visit the abbey so late, she bade her two -nieces follow her, and passed through a door, different to that by -which she had previously gone out, and walked with stately steps along -a short corridor leading to the public parlour of the abbey. - -This was a large and handsome room, lined entirely with beautiful -carved oak, and divided into two, lengthwise, by a screen of open -iron-work painted blue and red, and richly gilt. Visitors on the one -side could see, converse, and even shake hands with those on the -other; but, like the gulf between Abraham and Dives, the iron bars -shut out all farther intercourse. A sconce was lighted on the side of -the nunnery; and when Iola and her cousin Constance followed their -aunt into the room, they beheld, on the other side of the grate, the -form of a tall powerful man, somewhat advanced in life, standing with -his arms crossed upon his broad chest, and looking, to say sooth, -somewhat gloomy. He might indeed, be a little surprised at being -forced to hold communication with the lady abbess through the grate of -the general parlour; for the good lady was by no means so strict in -her notions of conventual decorum, as to exclude him, or any other of -the servants and officers of the abbey, from her presence in the -courtyard or in her own private sitting-room; and perhaps the woodman -might think it did not much matter whether his visit was made by night -or by day. - -"Well, John Boyd," said the abbess, "in fortune's name, what brings -you so late at night? Mary mother, I thought it was some of the roving -bands come to try and plunder the abbey again, as they did last -Martinmas twelvemonth; and we cannot expect such a blessed chance -every time, as that good Sir Martin Rideout should be at hand to help -our poor socmen. Had it not been for him, I wot, Peter our bailiff -would have made but a poor hand of defending us." - -"And a poor hand he did make," replied the woodman, in a cynical tone; -"for he was nowhere to be found; and I had to pull him out of the -buttery, to head the tenants. But I hear no more of rovers, lady, -unless it be the men at Coleshill, and King Richard's posts, planted -all along the highways, with twenty miles between each two, to look -out for Harry of Richmond." - -"Posts!" said the abbess; "posts planted on the highway! What mean you -by posts?" - -"Why men on horseback, lady mother," answered the woodman; "with sharp -spurs and strong steeds to bear to Dickon, our king that is, news of -Harry, our king that may be, if he chance to land any where upon the -coast." - -"Now Heaven assoil us!" cried the abbess; "what more war, more war? -Will men never be content without deforming God's image in their -fellow creatures, and burning and destroying even the fairest works of -their own hands?" - -"I fear not," answered the woodman, twisting round the broad axe that -was hung in his leathern belt. "Great children and small are fond of -bonfires; and nature and the devil between them made man a beast of -prey. As to what brought me hither, madam, it, was to tell you that -the wooden bridge in the forest wants repairing sadly. It would hardly -bear up your mule, lady, with nothing but yourself and your hawk upon -its back; much less a war-horse with a rider armed at point. As for my -coming so late, I have been as far as Tamworth this morning, to sell -the bavins, and didn't get back till after dark. So marking the bridge -by the way, and thinking it would be better to begin on it early in -the morning, I made bold to come up at night for fear anyone, riding -along to church or market or otherwise, should find their way into the -river, and say the abbess ought to mend her ways;" and he laughed at -his own joke. - -While he had been speaking, both the young ladies, though he was no -stranger to them, had been gazing at him with considerable attention. -He was, as I have said before, a tall and still very powerful man, -although he seemed to have passed the age of fifty years. His -shoulders were very broad, his arms long and muscular; but his body -was small in proportion to the limbs, and the head in proportion to -the height of the whole figure. His forehead was exceedingly broad and -high, however; the crown of his head quite bald, with large masses of -curling hair falling round his temples and on his neck. What his -complexion originally had been, could not be discovered; for the -whiteness of his hair and eye-brows and the sun-burnt weather-beaten -hue of his skin afforded no indication. His teeth, however, were still -good, his eyes large and bright, and the features fine, although the -wide forehead was seamed with deep furrows, giving, apart from the -rest of his appearance, a look of much greater age than that at which -he had really arrived. - -His dress was the ordinary woodman's garb of the time, which is well -known to almost every one. There was the thick stiff leathern coat, -which no broken branch or rugged thorn could pierce, the breeches of -untanned hide, and the hoots of strong black leather, reaching above -the knee. Round his waist, over his coat, he wore a broad belt, -fastened by a brass buckle in front, and in it were stuck the -implements of his craft, namely, a broad axe, which required no -ordinary power of limb to wield, with the head uppermost, thrust under -his left arm like a sword; a large billhook, having a broad stout -piece of iron at the back, which might serve the purposes of a hammer; -and an ordinary woodman's knife, the blade of which was about eighteen -inches in length. His head was on ordinary occasions covered with a -round cloth cap; but this, in reverence of the presence of the lady -abbess, he held by the edge in his hand. - -The expression of the good man's countenance, when not particularly -moved, was agreeable enough, though somewhat stern and sad; but when -he laughed, which was by no means unfrequent, although the sound was -loud and hearty, an extraordinary look of bitter mockery hung about -his lip and nostril, taking away all appearance of happiness from his -merriment. - -"Well, well, you might mend the bridge without asking me," said the -abbess, in reply to his report. "It is a part of the head woodman's -duty, and the expenses would always be passed. So if you had nothing -more to say than that, you might have chosen another hour, goodman -Boyd." - -"Crying your mercy, lady," said the woodman, "I would always rather -deal with you than with your bailiff. When I have orders from you, I -set him at nought. When I do anything of my own hand he is sure to -carp. However I had more to say. We have taken a score of mallards in -the great pond, and a pike of thirty pounds. There are two bitterns -too, three heronshaws, and a pheasant with a back like gold. I had -four dozen of pigeons killed too, out of the colombier in the north -wood; and--" - -"Mother Mary, is the man mad?" exclaimed the abbess. "One would think -we were going to have the installation of an archbishop." - -"And there are twenty young rabbits, as fat as badgers," continued the -woodman, taking no notice of her interruption. "If I might advise, -lady, you would order some capons to be killed to-night." - -The good abbess stood as one quite bewildered, and then burst into a -fit of laughter, saying-- - -"The man is crazed, I think;" but her eldest niece pulled the sleeve -of her gown, whispering-- - -"He means something, depend upon it. Perhaps he does not like to speak -before me and Iola." - -The abbess paused for an instant as if to consider this suggestion, -and then asked-- - -"Well, have you anything more to say, goodman?" - -"Oh, yes, plenty more," answered the woodman; "when I find a meet -season." - -"On my word you seem to have found a fish and fowl season," rejoined -the abbess, playing upon the word _meet_. We must recollect that she -had but little to amuse herself with in her solitude, and therefore -forgive her. She continued, however, in a graver tone: "Is it that you -wish to speak with me alone?" - -"Yes, lady," answered the man. "Three pair of ears have generally got -three mouths belonging to them, and that is too many by two." - -"Then I'll carry mine out of the way, goodman Boyd," said Iola, giving -him a gay nod, and moving towards the door; "I love not secrets of any -kind. Heaven shield me from having any of my own, for I should never -keep them." - -The woodman looked after her with a smile, murmuring in a low voice as -if to himself-- - -"Yet I think she would keep other people's better than most." Then, -waiting till Constance had followed her cousin from the room, he -continued, speaking to the abbess: "you'll have visitors at the abbey, -lady, before this time to-morrow night." - -"Marry, that is news, goodman," answered the abbess; "and for this -then you have made all this great preparation. It must be an earl, or -duke at least, if not king Richard himself--God save the mark that I -should give the name of king to one of his kindred. Methinks you might -have told me this without such secrecy. Who may these visitors be?" - -"They are very simple gentlemen, my lady," answered the woodman, -"though well to do in the world. First and foremost, there is the -young Lord Chartley, a young nobleman with as many good points as a -horse-dealer's filly; a baron of the oldest race, a good man at arms. -He can read and write, and thanks God for it, makes verses when he is -in love--which is every day in the week with some one--and, to crown -all, is exceedingly rich as these hard times go." - -"You seem to be of his privy chamber, goodman Boyd," said the abbess; -"you deliver him so punctually." - -"I deliver him but as his own servants delivered him to me," answered -the woodman. "Tell me, was he not in the battle of Barnet, fighting -for the red rose?" inquired the abbess. "Ay, and sorely wounded there. -He shall be right welcome, if it were but for that." - -"Nay, Lord Chartley fought at Barnet," said the woodman; "and if to -fight well and to suffer for the cause of Lancaster merit such high -honour, you might indeed receive him daintily, for he fought till he -was killed there, poor man; but this youth is his nephew, and has had -no occasion to fight in England either, for there have been no battles -since he was a boy. Lancaster he doubtless is in heart, though king -Edward put him into the guardianship of a Yorkist. However, with him -comes Sir Edward Hungerford, who, they tell me, is one of those gay -light-hearted gentlemen, who, born and bred in perilous and changing -times, get to think at last, by seeing all things fall to pieces round -them, that there is nothing real or solid in the world--no, not truth -itself. But let him pass; a little perjury and utter faithlessness, a -ready wit, a bold heart, a reckless love of mischief, a pair of -hanging sleeves that sweeps the ground as he walks along, a coat of -goldsmith's work, and a well-lined purse, have made many a fine -gentleman before him; and I'll warrant he is not worse than the -greater part of his neighbours. Then with these two, there is Sir -Charles Weinants, a right worshipful gentleman also." - -"But tell me more of him," said the abbess. "What is he? I have heard -the name before with honourable mention, methinks--Who and what is -he?" - -"A lickladle of the court, lady," answered the woodman, "one who rises -high by low ladders--who soars not up at once, either as the eagle or -the lark, but creeps into favour through holes and turnings. He is -marvellously discreet in all his doings, asserts nought boldly, but by -dull insinuation stings an enemy or serves a friend. Oh yes, he has -his friendships too--not much to be relied on, it is true, but still -often useful, so that even good men have need of his agency. All that -he does is done by under-currents, which bear things back to the shore -that seem floating out to sea. Quiet, and calm, and self-possessed, he -is ever ready for the occasion; and with a cheerful spirit, which one -would think the tenant of an upright heart, he wins his way silently, -and possesses great men's ears, who little know that their favour is -disposed of at another's will. He is an old man now; but I remember -him when I was a boy at St. Alban's. He was then in much grace with -the great Lord Clifford, who brought him to the notice of king Henry. -He has since lived, as much in favour, with Edwards and Richards and -Buckinghams, and is now a strong Yorkist. What he will die, Heaven and -time will show us." - -"Goodlack, that there should be such things in the world!" exclaimed -the abbess; "but what brings all these people here? I know none of -them; and if they come but to visit the shrine, I have no need to -entertain them, nor you to make a mystery of their visit. I hate -mysteries, my good son, ever since I read about that word being -written on the forehead of the poor sinner of Babylon." - -The woodman laughed irreverently, but answered, "I want to make no -mystery with you, lady. These men bring a great train with them; and -in their train there is a reverend friar, with frock, and cowl, and -sandaled feet; but methinks I have seen a mitre on his shaven crown, -though neither mitre nor cowl would save him from the axe, I wot, if -good king Richard got his hands upon him. What he comes for--why he -comes, I cannot tell you; for I only heard that their steps tended -hitherward, and the lackeys counted on drinking deep of the abbey ale. -But when that friar is beneath your roof, you will have a man beside -you, whose life is in much peril for stout adherence to the cause of -Lancaster." - -"Then he shall have shelter and protection here," said the abbess -boldly. "This is sanctuary, and I will not believe that Richard -himself--bad and daring as he is--would venture to violate the -church's rights." - -"Richard has two weapons, madam," answered the woodman, "and both -equally keen, his sword and his cunning; and take my word for it, what -he desires to do that he will do--ay, even to the violation of -sanctuary, though perhaps it may not be with his own hand or in his -own name. You have had one visit from a roving band who cared little -about holy church; and you may have another, made up of very different -men, with whom the king might deal tenderly if they did him good -service." - -"Then we will call in the tenants," said the abbess, "and defend our -rights and privileges." - -"The tenants might be outnumbered," said the woodman, shaking his -head. "There are many men straying about here, who would soon band -together at the thought of stripping the shrine of St. Clare; -especially if they had royal warranty for their necks' safety, and the -promise of farther reward, besides all their hands helped them to." - -"Then what is to be done?" exclaimed the abbess, in some -consternation. "I cannot and I will not refuse refuge to a consecrated -bishop, and one who has suffered persecution for the sake of his -rightful race of kings." - -"Nay, Heaven forbid," replied the woodman warmly; "but if you will -take a simple man's advice, lady, methinks I could show you a way to -save the bishop, and the abbey, and the ornaments of the shrine too." - -"Speak, speak," exclaimed the abbess eagerly. "Your advice is always -shrewd, goodman Boyd. What way would you have me take?" - -"Should you ever have in sanctuary," answered the woodman, "a man so -hated by the king that you may expect rash acts committed to seize -him, and you find yourself suddenly attacked by a band that you cannot -resist, send your sanctuary man to me by some one who knows all the -ways well, and I will provide for his safety where they will never -find him. Then, be you prepared for resistance, but resist not if you -can help it. Parley with the good folks, and say that you know well -they would not come for the mere plunder of a consecrated place, that -you are sure they have come seeking a man impeached of high treason -who lately visited the abbey. Assure them that you sent him away, -which you then may well do in all truth, and offer to give admission -to any three or four to search for him at their will. Methinks, if -they are privately set on by higher powers, they will not venture to -do anything violent, when they are certain that success will not -procure pardon for the act." - -The abbess mused and seemed to hesitate; and, after a short pause, the -woodman added, "Take my advice, lady. I do not speak without -knowledge. Many a stray bit of news gets into the forest by one way or -another that is never uttered in the town. Now, a messenger stops to -talk with the woodman, and, overburdened with the secret, pours part -of it out, where he thinks it can never rise in judgment against him. -Then, a traveller asks his way, and gossips with his guide as he walks -along to put him in the right road. Every carter, who comes in for his -load of wood, brings some intelligence from the town. I am rightly -informed, lady, depend upon it." - -"It is not that; it is not that," said the abbess, somewhat peevishly. -"I was thinking whom I could send and how. If they surround the abbey -altogether, how could I get him out?" - -"There is the underground way to the cell of St. Magdalen," said the -woodman. "To surround the abbey, they would have to bring their men in -amongst the houses of the hamlet, and the cell is far beyond that." - -"True, but no one knows that way," said the abbess, "but you, and I, -and sister Bridget. I could trust her well enough, cross and -ill-tempered as she is; but then she has never stirred beyond the -abbey walls for these ten years, so that she knows not the way from -the cell to your cottage. I trust she knows the way to heaven better;" -and the abbess laughed. - -"'Twere easy to instruct some one else in the way to the cell," said -the woodman. "The passage is plain enough when the stone door is -open." - -"Ay, doubtless, doubtless," continued the abbess; "but you forget, my -good friend, that it is against our law to tell the secret way out to -any of the sisterhood, except the superior and the oldest nun. Mary -mother, I know not why the rule was made; but it has been so, ever -since bishop Godshaw's visitation in 1361." - -"I suppose he found the young sisters fond of tripping in the green -wood with the fairies of nights," answered the woodman, with one of -his short laughs; "but however, you are not forbidden to tell those -who are not of the sisterhood; otherwise, lady, you would not have -told me." - -"Nay, that does not follow," rejoined the abbess. "The head woodman -always knows, as the cell is under his charge and care, ever since the -poor hermit died. However, I do not recollect having vowed not to tell -the secret to any secular persons. The promise was only as to the -sisters--but whom could I send? - -"Iola? Nay, nay, that cannot be," said the abbess. "She is not of a -station to go wandering about at night, guiding strangers through a -wild wood. She is my niece, and an earl's daughter." - -"Higher folks than she have done as much," answered the woodman; "but -I did not think that the abbess of Atherston St. Clare would have -refused even her niece's help, to Morton, bishop of Ely." - -"The bishop of Ely!" cried the abbess. "Refuse him help? No, no, Boyd. -If it were my daughter or my sister, if it cost me life, or limb, or -fortune, he should have help in time of need. I have not seen him now -these twelve years; but he shall find I do not forget--Say no more, -goodman, say no more. I will send my niece, and proud may she be of -the task." - -"I thought it would be so, lady," answered the woodman; "but still one -word more. It were as well that you told the good lord bishop of his -danger, as soon as you can have private speech with him, and then take -the first hour after sundown to get him quietly away out of the abbey, -for to speak truth I much doubt the good faith of that Sir Charles -Weinants--I know not what he does with men of Lancaster--unless he -thinks, indeed, the tide is turning in favour of that house from which -it has ebbed away so long." - -Although they had said all they really had to say, yet the abbess and -the woodman carried on their conversation during some ten minutes or -quarter of an hour more, before they parted; and then the excellent -lady retired to her own little comfortable room again, murmuring to -herself: "He is a wise man, that John Boyd--rude as a bear sometimes; -but he has got a wit! I think those woodmen are always shrewd. They -harbour amongst the green leaves, and look at all that goes on in the -world as mere spectators, till they learn to judge better of all the -games that are playing than those who take part therein. They can look -out, and see, and meddle as little as we do, while we are shut out -from sight, as well as from activity." - - - - -CHAPTER III. - - -Under some circumstances, and upon some conditions, there are few -things fairer on this earth than a walk through a wild forest by -moonlight. It must not be, however, one of those deep unbroken -primeval forests, which are found in many parts of the new world, -where the wilderness of trees rises up, like a black curtain, on every -side, shutting out the view, and almost excluding the light of day -from the face of the earth. But a forest in old England, at the period -of which I speak, was a very different thing. Tall trees there were, -and many, and in some places they were crowded close together; but in -others the busy woodman's axe, and the more silent but more incessant -strokes of time, had opened out wide tracts, where nothing was to be -seen but short brushwood, stunted oak, beech tree and ash, rising up -in place of the forest monarchs long passed away, like the pigmy -efforts of modern races appearing amidst the ruins of those gigantic -empires, which have left memorials that still defy the power of time. -Indeed, I never behold a wide extent of old forest land, covered with -shrubby wood, with here and there a half-decayed trunk rising grandly -above the rest, without imagination flying far away to those lands of -marvel, where the wonders of the world arose and perished--the land of -the Pharaohs, of the Assyrians, and of the Medes; ay, and of the -Romans too--those lands in which the power and genius of the only -mighty European empire displayed themselves more wonderfully than even -in the imperial city, the land of Bolbec and Palmyra. The Arab's hut, -built amongst the ruins of the temple of the sun, is a fit type of -modern man, contrasted with the races that have passed. True, the -Roman empire was destroyed by the very tribes from which we spring; -but it was merely the dead carcase of the Behemoth eaten up by ants. - -Be all that as it may, an English forest scene is very beautiful by -moonlight, and especially when the air has been cleared by a light -frost, as was the case when the woodman took his way back towards his -cottage, after his visit to the abbey. The road was broad and -open--one of the highroads of the country, indeed--sandy enough, in -all conscience, and not so smooth as it might have been; but still it -served its purpose; and people in those days called it a good road. -Here, an old oak eighteen or twenty feet in girth, which might have -seen the noble ill-fated Harold, stretched its long limbs across the -turfy waste ground at its feet, and over the yellow track of the road -beaten by horses' feet. In other places the eye might wander far over -a wide scantily-covered track of ground, with here and there a tall -tree starting up and casting its broad shadow upon the white and -glistening expanse of bushes below. A vague sort of mysterious -uncertainty hung about the dells and dingles of the wood, -notwithstanding the brightness of the moonlight; and a faint blueish -mist prevented the eye from penetrating into the deeper valleys, and -searching their profundity. To the left, the ground sloped away with a -gentle descent. To the right, it rose somewhat more abruptly; and, -peeping over the leafless trees in the latter direction, appeared here -and there a square wall and tower, cutting sharp and defined upon the -rounded forms of the forest. Above all stretched out the wide deep -sky, with the moon nearly at the full, flooding the zenith with light, -while to, the north and west shone out many bright and twinkling -stars, not yet hidden by the beams of earth's bright satellite. - -With a slow and a firm step, the woodman trudged upon his way, pausing -every now and then to gaze around him, more, apparently, as a matter -of habit than with any purpose; for he seemed full of busy thoughts; -and even when he stopped and let his eye roam around, it is probable -that his mind was on other things, once or twice, murmuring a few -words to himself, which had certainly no reference to the scene. "Ah, -Mary, Mary," he said, and then added: "Alas! Alas!" - -There was something deeply melancholy in his tone. The words were -spoken low and softly; and a sigh followed them, the echo of memory to -the voice of joys passed. - -Onward he walked again, the road somewhat narrowing as he proceeded, -till at length the tall trees, pressing forward on either side, shut -out the light of the moon, except where, here and there, the rays -stole through the leafless branches and chequered the frosty turf. - -As he was passing through one of the darkest parts of the wood, -keeping a good deal to the left of the road, the sound of a horse's -feet was heard coming fast down from the top of the hill. Without -change of pace or look, however, the stout woodman walked on, seeming -to pay little attention to the measured beating of the ground by the -strong hoofs, as they came on at a quick trot. Nearer and nearer, -however, they approached, till at length they suddenly stopped, just -as the horse and rider were passing the man on foot, and a voice -exclaimed, "Who goes there?" - -"A friend," replied the woodman. "You must have sharp eyes, whoever -you be." - -"Sharp eyes and sharp ears too," replied the horseman. "Stand out, and -tell us who you are, creeping along there under the boughs." - -"Creeping along!" answered the woodman, advancing into the more open -road and placing himself in front of the rider. "I will soon tell you -who I am, and show you who I am too, master, when I know who it is -that asks the question. Since it comes to that, I bid you stand and -tell me who you are who ride the wood so late. You are none of King -Richard's posts, or you would know me;" and, at the same time, he laid -his hand upon the man's bridle. - -"You are a liar," replied the horseman, "for I am one of King -Richard's posts, coming from Scotland, with news of moment, and -letters from the princess countess of Arran. Let go my bridle then, -and say who and what you are, or, by the Lord, I'll drub you in such a -way as you have seldom been drubbed before." - -"Ha! Say you so?" cried the woodman, still retaining his hold of the -bridle. "I must have more satisfactory knowledge of you, ere I let you -pass; and, as for drubbing me, methinks with a green willow and a yard -or two of rope, I'd give thee that which thou hast not tasted since -thou wert a boy." - -"So, so," said the man, "thou art a robber, doubtless. These woods are -full of them, they say; but thou shalt find me a tougher morsel than -often falls within thy teeth. Take that for thy pains." - -As he spoke, he suddenly drew his sword from the sheath, and aimed a -rapid and furious stroke at the woodman's head. His adversary, -however, was wary; and, springing on one side, he escaped the descent -of the blade. The other instantly spurred his horse forward; but, -before he could pass, the woodman had pulled his axe from his belt, -and, with a full sweep of his arm, struck a blow at the back of the -horseman's head, which cast him at once out of the saddle. It was the -back of the axe which he used, and not the sharp side; but the effect -seemed equally fatal, for the man neither moved nor spoke, and his -horse, freed from the pressure of the rein, dashed down the lane for -some way, then stopped, paused for a moment, and trotted quietly back -again. - -In the meantime, the woodman approached the prostrate body of the -messenger, murmuring to himself, "Ah, caitiff, I know thee, though -thou hast forgotten me. Thou pitiful servant of treachery and -ingratitude, thou hireling serviceable knave, I would not have hurt -thee, even for thy master's sake, hadst thou not assailed me -first--Methinks he is dead," he continued, stirring the body with his -foot. "I hit thee harder than I thought; but it is well as it is. Thy -death could not come from a fitter hand than mine, were it not the -hangman's--I will see what thou hast about thee, however; for there -may be news of value indeed, if for once in thy life thou hast found a -tongue to speak truth with. But I will not believe it. The news was -too sure, the tale too sad to be false." - -He stood a moment or two by the corpse, gazing upon it in silence, but -without the slightest sign of sorrow or remorse. Those were bloody and -barbarous times, it is true, when men slew each other in cold blood -after battles were over, when brother spared not brother, and the -companions of infancy and boyhood dyed their daggers in each other's -gore. Human life, as in all barbarous states of society, was held as -nought; and men hesitated as little to spill the blood of a fellow -creature as to spill their own. But yet it must surely always be a -terrible thing to take a life, to extinguish that light which we can -never reillume, to fix the fatal barrier which renders every foolish -and every dark act, every sin and every crime, irretrievable, to leave -no chance of penitence, no hope of repentance, and to send the erring -and burdened spirit into the presence of its God without one dark -record against it uncancelled. Heavy must be the offence indeed, and -deep the injury, which leaves no sorrow in the heart of the slayer. - -None seemed to be felt by the woodman. He stood and gazed, as I have -said, for a moment; but it was--as he had gazed over the prospect -below--without a change of countenance; and then he stooped down and -with calm and patient investigation searched every part of the dead -man's apparel. He found, amongst other things, a purse well supplied -with gold, at least so its weight seemed to indicate; but that he put -back again at once. He found some papers too, and those he kept; but, -not satisfied with that, after some trouble he caught the horse, -examined the saddle, unloosed the girths, and between the saddle cloth -and the leather found a secret pocket from which he took more papers. -These too he kept, and put them in his wallet. Everything else, such -as trinkets, of which there were one or two, a pouncet-box, some large -curiously-shaped keys and other trifles, he carefully replaced where -he had found them. Then, taking up the dead man's hand, he raised it -and let it fall, as if to make sure that life was extinct; and then -once more he addressed the corpse, saying-- - -"Ay, thou art dead enough! I could find in my heart to spurn thee even -now--but no, no. It is but the clay. The demon is departed," and -picking up his axe, which he had laid down for a moment, he carefully -replaced the saddle on the horse's back, fastened up the girths, and -cast loose the rein. When this was done he resumed his walk, -proceeding with the same quiet steady pace with which he had been -wending his way towards his cottage, the moment before this adventure -befell him. All remained calm and still on the spot which he had left, -for somewhat more than an hour. The moon reached her highest point, -travelled a little to the westward, and poured her rays under the -branches of the trees where before it had been dark. The dead body -still lay upon the road. The horse remained cropping the forest grass -at the side, occasionally entangling its foot in the bridle, and once -plunging to get free so as to bring itself upon its knees. At the end -of the time I have mentioned, the woodman reappeared, coming down the -hill at the same quiet rate at which he had gone away. When he -approached the place he stopped and looked around; and then, stooping -down by the side of the dead man, he placed some of the papers in the -pocket, saying with a sort of bitter smile, which looked wild and -strange in the moonlight-- - -"Thy comings and goings are over; but others may carry these at least -to their destination. Oh, thou double-dealing fiend, thou hast died in -the midst of one of thy blackest deeds before it was consummated. The -messenger of the dove, thou wert but the agent of the hawk which was -watching for her as a prey, and would have betrayed her into all the -horrors of faithlessness and guilt. May God pardon thee, bad man -and--" - -Again there was the sound of horses' feet coming; but this time it was -mingled with that of voices, talking with loud and somewhat boisterous -merriment. - -"Some of the king's runners," said the woodman; and, with a slow step, -he retreated under the trees, and was soon lost to sight amidst the -thick brushwood. The next moment two men might be seen riding down the -hill and laughing as they came. - -"'Twill be pleasant tidings to bear," said one to the other; "and my -counsel is, Jago, instead of giving them to the next post, as thy -fool's head would have it, that we turn away through the by-road to -the abbey, and carry our good news ourselves. Why, that Richmond has -put back again to France, is worth fifty broad pieces to each of us." - -"But our orders were strict," answered the other; "and we have no -excuse.--But mercy have us! What is here? Some one either drunk or -dead upon the road. There stands his horse too, under that tree." - -"Look to your weapon, Jago," replied his companion. "On my life, this -is that fellow Malcolm Bower, who passed us three hours ago, as proud -as a popinjay; and I'll wager a stoup of Canary, that he has met with -robbers in the wood and been murdered." - -"Likely, likely," answered the other man, loosening his sword in the -sheath; "but if he have, king Richard will burn the forest down but -he'll find them; for this fellow is a great man with those he serves -now-a-days." - -"Here, hold my horse," cried the other. "I'll get down and see;" and, -dismounting, he stooped over the body, and then proceeded to examine -it, commenting in broken sentences, thus--"Ay, it is he, sure enough. -Stay, he can't be murdered, I think, either, for here is his purse in -his pocket, and that well filled--and papers too, and a silver box of -comfits, on my life. Look ye here now, his horse must have thrown him -and broken his neck. No, upon my life, it's his head is broken. Here's -a place at the back of his skull as soft as a Norfolk dumpling. What -shall we do with him?" - -A short consultation then ensued, as to how they should dispose of the -dead body, till at length it was agreed that the horse should be -caught, the corpse flung over it, and thus carried to the neighbouring -hamlet. This was effected without much trouble; and the whole scene -became wild, and silent, and solitary once more. - - - - -CHAPTER IV. - - -I must now introduce the reader to a scene then very common in -England, but which would now be sought for in vain--although, to some -of the habits of those times a large class of people have a strong -tendency to return. Round a little village green, having, as usual, -its pond--the merry-making place of ducks and geese--its two or three -clumps of large trees, and its two roads crossing each other in the -middle, were erected several buildings of very different look and -magnitude. Nearly three sides of the green were occupied by mere -hovels or huts, the walls of mud, the roofs rudely thatched, and the -windows of so small a size as to admit very little light into a -dwelling, which, during the working hours of each weary day, saw very -little of its laborious tenants. Amongst these were two larger houses, -built of stone, richly ornamented, though small in size, having glazed -windows, and displaying all the signs and tokens of the ecclesiastical -architecture of the day, though neither of them was a church or -chapel, but simply the dwelling-places of some secular priests, with a -small following of male choristers, who were not permitted to inhabit -any portion of the neighbouring abbey. Along the fourth side of the -green, where the ground rose considerably, extended an enormously high -wall, pierced in the centre with a fine old portal with two -battlemented turrets, one on either side. From the middle of the -green, so high was this wall and portal that nothing could be seen -beyond it. But, from the opposite side, the towers and pinnacles of -the abbey itself peeped up above the inclosure. - -If one followed the course of the wall, to the left as one looked -towards the abbey, passing between it and the swine-herd's cottage, -one came to a smaller door--a sort of sally-port, we should have -called it, had the place been a fortress--from which a path wound -away, down into a valley, with a stream flowing through it; and then, -turning sharp to the right at the bottom, the little footway ascended -again towards a deep old wood, on the verge of which appeared a small -Gothic building with a stone cross in front. The distance from the -abbey to St. Magdalen's cell, as it was called, was not in reality -very great in a direct line; but the path wound so much, in order to -avoid a steep rise in the ground and a deep ravine through which in -rainy weather flowed a torrent of water, that its length could not be -less than three quarters of a mile. - -The little door in the abbey wall, which I have mentioned, was strong -and well secured, with a loop-hole at each side for archers to shoot -through, in case of need. Over the door, too, was a semicircular -aperture, in which hung an enormously large bell, baptized in former -years, according to the ordinary custom, but which, whatever was the -name it received at its baptism, was known amongst the peasantry as -the "Baby of St. Clare." Now, whether St. Clare, whoever she was, had, -during the time of her mortal life, a baby or none, I cannot pretend -to say; but certain it is, that the good nuns were as angry at the -name which had been bestowed upon the bell, as if the attributing an -infant to their patroness had been a direct insult to each of them -individually. - -This bell was used only upon special occasions, the ordinary access to -the abbey being through the great gates; but, if any danger menaced in -the night, if any of the peasantry were taken suddenly ill after -sunset, if any of the huts in the hamlet caught fire--which was by no -means unusual--or any other business of importance occurred during the -hours of darkness, the good people of the neighbourhood applied to the -Baby of St. Clare, whose loud voice soon brought out one of the -inferior sisters to inquire what was the matter. Passing on from this -doorway, and leaving the path towards St. Magdalene's cell on the -left, one could circle round the whole extent of the walls, which -contained not less than five or six acres of ground. But no other -doorway was to be seen, till the great portal was again reached. The -walls themselves were of exceeding thickness, and had a walk all round -them on a sort of platform at the top. It would have required cannon -indeed to have effected a breach at any point; but, at the same time, -their great extent rendered them indefensible against the means of -escalade, by any force which the good sisters could call to their aid. - -Within the great portal was a large open court, flanked on three sides -by habitable buildings. To the right, was what was called the -visitors' lodging, where a very considerable number of persons could -be accommodated, in small rooms very tolerably furnished according to -the mode of the day. There, too, a large dining-hall afforded space -for the entertainment to the many guests who from time to time partook -of the abbey's hospitality. The opposite side was devoted to offices -for the lay sisters and servants of the abbey; and the space in front -of the great gates was occupied by the chapel, into one part of which -the general public was admitted, while the other, separated by a -richly-wrought stone screen, was assigned to the nuns themselves. A -small stone passage closed by an iron gate ran between the offices and -the chapel, and extended, round the back of the former and along the -north-western wall to the little doorway which I have mentioned; -while, on the other hand, an open door and staircase led to the -parlour, which I have mentioned in a preceding chapter, as that in -which friends or relatives might converse with any of the recluses, -through the grate which divided the room into two. Behind the chapel -was another court, cloistered all round, and beyond that the main body -of the building. - -All these arrangements would seem to show, and, indeed, such was the -intention, that the sisterhood were cut off from all immediate -communication with the male part of the race; but yet, in truth, -neither the order nor the abbey was a very strict one--so little so -that, twenty or thirty years before, the sisterhood had not altogether -escaped scandal. All occasion for gossiping tongues, however, had been -taken away by the conduct of the existing abbess, whose rule was firm -though mild; but, at the same time, she neither scrupled to indulge -her nuns in all innocent liberty, such as going out once or twice in -the year in parties of six or seven together, nor to use her own -powers of free action in receiving, even in the interior of the -building, during the day time, any of the officers of the abbey, -whether lay or clerical, with whom she might wish to speak, and in -going out mounted on her mule, and accompanied by several attendants, -to inspect the several estates of the foundation, or visit any of the -neighbouring towns. This just medium between extreme severity and -improper license secured her against all evil tongues; and the abbey -was in high repute at the time of which I speak. - -About one o'clock, on the day after the woodman's visit, which I have -described, some twenty or thirty people were gathered together on the -green just before the great portal. But this was no well-dressed and -splendid assemblage, no meeting of the high, the rich, and the lordly. -It was a very motley band, in which rags and tatters greatly -predominated. The most aristocratic of the crowd was probably an -itinerant piper, who, with an odd-shaped cap on his head, somewhat -like the foot of an old stocking, but spreading out at the edges in -the fashion of a basin, had a good coarse brown cloth coat on his -back, and hosen on his legs, which, though not new, were not in holes. -He kept his bag tight under his arm, not venturing to regale the -devout ears of the nuns with the sounds of his merry minstrelsy; but -he promised himself and his fellows to cheer their hearts with a tune -after their daily dole had been distributed, to receive which was the -object of their coming. - -They were not kept long waiting, indeed; for one of the elder sisters -soon appeared, followed by two stout serving women, dressed in grey -gowns, with white hoods and wimples, each carrying an enormous basket -filled with large hunches of bread and fragments of broken meat. The -contents of these panniers were distributed with great equity, and -savoured with a few words, sometimes of ghostly advice, sometimes of -reproach, and sometimes of consolation. - -Thus it was, "There Hodge, take that, and do not grumble another time -as thou didst yesterday. A contented heart makes food wholesome; and -you, Margery Dobson, I do wonder that you do not think it shame to -live upon the abbey dole, with those good stout hands of yours." - -"Ah, dear mother," replied the person she addressed, in a whining -tone; "that is always the way. Everything goes by seeming. I vow I am -dropsical all over; and then folks say it is all fat. I could no more -do a day's work like another, than I could take up the abbey tower and -carry it off." - -The good sister shook her head, and went on to another, saying-- - -"Ah! Jackson, if you would but quit your vile drunken ways, you need -never come here for the dole. Two hours' work each day would furnish -you with as much food as you get here in a week. Ah, Janet Martin, my -poor thing," she continued, addressing a woman, who had contrived to -add some little scraps of black to the old gown which she wore, "there -were no need to give you any of the dole, for the lady abbess will -send down to you by and by; but here, as there is plenty for all -to-day, take this for yourself and the babes. I dare say they'll eat -it." - -The woman made a melancholy gesture with her head, replying merely-- - -"They have not tasted a morsel since last night, sister Alice." - -"Well, take heart, take heart," answered the nun in a kindly tone. -"You can't tell what may be coming. We are all very sorry for you and -for your poor children; and your good husband who is no more, rest his -soul, has our prayers night and morning." - -"Blessings upon you, sister Alice, and upon the house," replied the -poor widow; and the nun turned to the itinerant musician. - -"What, Sam the piper come back from Tamworth. I trust, brother, you -remembered all your promises, and did not get drunk at the fair." - -"Never was drunk once," replied the piper boldly; but the next moment, -he turned his head partly over his shoulder, and winked shrewdly with -his eye, adding, "The ale was so thin that a butt of it would not have -tipsied a sucking lamb. So I have little credit; for my well-seasoned -staves would have drunk the whole beer in the town without rolling. -But nevertheless, I was moderate, very moderate, and drank with due -discretion--seeing that the liquor was only fit to season sow's meat. -Well, I wot, they got very little grains out of each barrel; and I -hope he that brewed it has had as bad a cholic as I have had ever -since." - -"Well, get you each to the buttery, one by one as you are served; and -there you will get a horn of ale which won't give you the cholic, -though it won't make you drunk," said the good sister; and then, -beckoning to the piper, she enquired in an easy tone: "What news was -stirring at Tamworth, Sam Piper? There's always something stirring -there, I think." - -"Bless your holy face," answered the piper; "there was little enough -this time. Only, just as the fair was over, some gay nobles came -in--looking for King Richard, I wot; and a gorgeous train they made of -it; but if it was the King they sought, they did not find him, for he -has gone on to Nottingham with his good Queen." - -"But who were they? Who were they?" asked the nun, who was not without -her share of that curiosity so common among recluses. "And were they -so very splendid? How many had they in their following?" - -"Why, first and foremost, lady," replied the piper, with a tone and -air of secrecy and importance, "there was the young earl of Chartley. -Marry, a gay and handsome gentleman as ever you set eyes on. I saw him -come up to the inn door, and speak to mine host; and every other word -was a jest, I'll warrant. What a wit he has, and how he did run on. It -was nothing but push and thrust, from beginning to end. Then, as for -his dress, it might have suited a prince, full of quaint conceits and -beautiful extravagance. Why his bonnet was cut all round in the -Burgundy fashion, for all the world like the battlements of a castle -made in cloth, and a great white feather lolling down till it touched -his left shoulder." - -"Oh, vanity, vanity!" cried the nun. "How these young men do mock -Heaven with their vanities! But what more, good brother?" - -"Why then there were the sleeves of his gown," continued the piper; -"what they were intended for I can't tell, unless to blow his nose -with; but they were so long and fell so heavy with the sables that -trimmed them, that I thought every minute the horse would set his feet -on them. But no such thing; and though somewhat dusty he seemed fresh -enough." - -"Well, well," said the nun. "Come to the point, and tell us no more -about dress, for I care not for such vanities." - -"Good faith, but there were some pieces of it would have made you -care," replied the piper. "However, I do not know what you mean by the -point." - -"Who were the other people; for you said there were many?" demanded -the nun sharply. - -"So there were, so there were," replied the wandering musician. "There -was Sir Edward Hungerford, a gay gallant of the court, not so handsome -as the other, but as grandly dressed; and then there was Sir Charles -Weinants, a very reverend and courtly gentleman, with comely grey -hair. There--talking of reverencies--there was a godly friar with a -grey gown and shaven crown." - -"That speaks well for the young lords," observed the nun. "They cannot -be such idle little-thrifts as you make them out, if they travel -accompanied by a holy man." - -"Nay, Heaven forbid that I should make them out idle little-thrifts," -replied the piper. "I think them serious sober-minded gentlemen; for, -besides the friar, they had with them, I wot, a black slave, that is -to say not quite black, for I have seen blacker, but a tawny Moor, -with silver bracelets on his arms, and a turban on his head." - -"How does that show them serious sober-minded gentlemen?" asked the -nun. - -"Because I fancy they must have been to the Holy Land to fetch him," -answered the piper; "but what is more to their credit than all else, -they love minstrels, for the young lord at their head gave me a York -groat, which is more than I had taken in all the fair." - -"Minstrels!" cried the nun, with a toss of her head. "Marry! call'st -thou thyself a minstrel, piper?" - -But before her companion could reply, three men rode into the little -circle, formed by the houses upon the green, and approached the great -portal of the abbey. One of these, by his dress and appearance, seemed -to be a principal servant in the house of some great man. Another was -an ordinary groom; but the third was altogether of a different -appearance, being a man of almost gigantic stature, dressed in -oriental costume, with which, his brown skin, strongly-marked -features, and large deep black eyes, were in perfect harmony. He wore -a crooked scimitar by his side, a short cane spear was in his hand, -and his seat in the saddle of the beautiful black horse he rode would -have distinguished him at once as the native of another land. He was -magnificently dressed, as was usually the case with the eastern -slaves, of which not a few were to be found in Europe, even at that -time; for although the epidemic madness of the crusades was over, yet -the malady from time to time attacked a number of individuals, and we -find that towards the end of the fifteenth century, between two and -three hundred thousand persons were assembled from different countries -in Rome, with the professed object of making war upon the infidels. -They were without leaders, undertook little, and executed less; but if -one of the noblemen or gentlemen, who set out upon those wild -enterprises, could bring home with him two or three Mahommedan slaves, -he thought he had performed a great feat, and judged himself worthy of -the name of a crusader. - -The very approach of a follower of Mahound, however, was an -abomination to the good nun, who had never seen such a thing before; -and, taking a step back at the aspect of the Moor, she crossed herself -devoutly. "Sancta Clara, ora pro nobis," she uttered devoutly, and -seemed to derive both consolation and courage from the ejaculation; -for she maintained her ground, although the Moor rode close up to her -with his companions--nay, she even examined his garb with a critical -eye, and internally pronounced the yellow silk, of which his gabardine -was composed, the most beautiful she had ever seen in her life. - -She was not subjected to the shock of any conversation with the -infidel however; for the person who addressed her was the good-looking -elderly man, dressed as one of the principal servants of a high -family. Dismounting from his horse with due decorum, he presented a -letter for the lady abbess, and requested that it might be conveyed to -her immediately, saying, that he would wait there for an answer. - -The nun pressed him to enter the court and take some refreshment in -the visitors' lodging, looking askance at the Moor all the time, and -seeming to doubt whether she ought to include him in the invitation. -The steward, or whatever he might be, declined, however, stating that -he must return immediately when he had received an answer, as to -whether the lady abbess would extend her hospitality to his lord; and -the nun, usurping the function of the porteress, carried in the letter -herself. An answer was soon brought, by word of mouth, that the Lord -Chartley and his friends were right welcome; and the servants departed -on the road by which they came. Cooks and scullions were immediately -put in requisition, and all the good things which the woodman had sent -up were speedily being converted into delicate dishes for the table of -the guests. - -Such a scene had not been displayed in the kitchen of the abbey since -the visitation of the bishop; but hour after hour passed by without -the arrival of the expected company, till the cooks began to fear that -the supper would be spoilt; and the beggars, who had lingered about -the gate, in the hope of alms, grew weary of waiting, and dropped off -one by one. It was not till the sun had set, and the whole sky was -grey, that a distant trumpet was heard, and the sacristan of the -chapel, from one of the highest towers, perceived a dark and -indistinct mass which might be men and horses coming up the slope of -the hill. - - - - -CHAPTER V. - - -Much did the good nuns wonder, why and wherefore such splendid -preparations had been made by the abbess, for the reception of a young -nobleman and his companions, none of whom, as far as they knew, bore -any prominent part in the state. Had it been a bishop, a mitred abbot, -or even a dean, they could have understood such a magnificent -reception. A duke or a prince would have been worthy of it; but, "Who -was Lord Chartley? What claim had he upon the abbey?" - -If they were surprised, however, at that which went on in the -kitchen--and they all found out sooner or later what was taking place -there--previous to the arrival of the guests; if they commented upon -the arrangements made for feasting the number of forty in the -strangers' hall, while the abbess herself with the old prioress, who -was as deaf as a post, proposed to entertain the principal visitors in -a room apart, how much more were they surprised when, on its being -announced that the train was approaching, the lady herself went out -into the court, with her two nieces, and her usual attendants upon -state occasions, and waited nearly opposite the principal door of the -chapel to receive her visitors in form. Much did they remark upon -these facts; and much did they whisper among themselves; but still the -abbess pursued her course, though, it must be confessed, it was with -some degree of perturbation, which was very evident, in a slight -degree of nervousness of manner, and in a variation of colour which -was not common with her. - -She was not kept in the court long before the first horseman rode -through the portal; and, without waiting for grooms or horse-boys to -come up, the young Lord Chartley himself sprang to the ground, and -advancing with an easy and graceful air, bonnet in hand, paid his -respects to the superior of the convent. Nay, more, with a gay light -sort of gallantry, fitted perhaps rather for the court than the -cloister, he pressed his lips upon the hand of the abbess, and looked -very much as if he would willingly have made them acquainted with the -cheeks of the two beautiful girls by whom she was accompanied. - -"A thousand thanks, dear lady," he said, "for your kindly welcome. Let -me crave pardon for having detained you so long; but some business -stopped us by the way. Let me present to you my friends, Sir Charles -Weinants, a wise and sage negotiator, deep in the secret mysteries of -courts, and most discreet in all his doings--trust him with no -secrets, lady," he added, laughing; "for though he may not betray -them, he will use them as his high policy may dictate. Then here is -Sir Edward Hungerford, the pink of all perfection and the winner of -all hearts, the web of whose courtesy is the most superfine, and who -is very dangerous to all ladies not under vows. Then here again is my -friend, Sir William Arden, whose character you must not take from -himself, whose looks are rougher than his intentions, and his words -harder than his heart." - -"And his heart harder than your head, my good lord," said the -gentleman of whom he last spoke, who had just dismounted from his -horse. "Marry! my lady abbess, I only wonder how you let such a -rattle-pated young lordling within your gates. I would not, if I were -you; and were he to ride twenty miles further before he got his supper -it would do him good." - -"Not so, I think," said Sir Edward Hungerford. "I never knew any good -come to a man by riding without his supper, especially when he left -bright eyes and beautiful faces behind him;" and, after fixing his -look for a moment upon the abbess herself, he glanced meaningly to the -faces of her two companions. - -"Peace, peace, my children," said the elder lady. "I must not let you -forget where you are, and what ears hear you. This is no court, or -hall, or place of light amusement. Cease your fine speeches then, and -remember this is the abbey of Atherston St. Clare." - -"Ay, he would soon make it a ribald's den," said Sir William Arden, -bluffly; "but you have forgot the priest, my lord. You should make all -reverend people acquainted with each other." - -"True, true!" cried Lord Chartley. "This my dear lady, is a very -reverend friend of mine, called Father William, who has lived long in -foreign lands. Let me recommend him to your especial care and -kindness; for he has but feeble health, and will partake of your -hospitality for the night, while we, I grieve to say, are forced to -ride forward by the moonlight." - -He laid strong emphasis on some of his words; and the abbess raised -her eyes to the face of the friar, who was gazing at her with a calm -and steady look. A glance however seemed enough, for she instantly -turned her eyes away again, welcoming the priest in vague and general -terms. She then proceeded to explain to Lord Chartley and his -companions, that, as they had come so late, they must put off their -meal till after compline, which would be in half an hour. The service -in the chapel, she said, at which she invited them all to attend, -would occupy about ten minutes, and in the mean time she gave them -over to the lay officers of the abbey, who would attend to their -comfort and convenience. After compline, she added, she would receive -the gentlemen who had been introduced to her, to sup in the small -parlour, while the rest of the party would be entertained in the hall. - -Having given this explanation, she was about to retire; but Lord -Chartley, following her a few steps, said something in a low voice, to -which she replied:-- - -"Certainly, my son. You will find me at the grate in five minutes. -That passage to the left will lead you." - -"There now," exclaimed Sir Edward Hungerford, who had remarked his -companion's proceedings. "Chartley is asking her if she can spare him -one of those two fair girls to solace his moonlight ride to Leicester. -'Tis thus he always forestalls the market. Upon my life he should give -us poor knights a fair chance." - -"You would spoil the fairest chance on earth, with your foppery," said -Sir William Arden, a strong-built dark-complexioned man of about -forty. "The bargain is soon struck at all events, for here he comes;" -and the young nobleman, having rejoined the rest, followed some of the -servants of the abbey to the rooms allotted to them, where ewers and -towels were prepared to wash before the evening meal. - -A very few minutes afterwards, the young Lord Chartley crossed the -court, and ascended to the grate across the parlour. There was nobody -there; and he looked to the great bell, hesitating whether he should -ring it or not. Before he decided, however, a light appeared on the -other side; and the abbess presented herself, preceded by a nun -bearing a taper, who departed as soon as she had set down the light. -Lord Chartley was not a man to hesitate or stumble at any step he was -inclined to take; but, for an instant, he did hesitate on the present -occasion; and, as the abbess hesitated too, the conversation seemed -not likely to begin very soon. - -The silence indeed continued so long, that at length the young lord -began to feel there was something ridiculous in it; and, bursting into -a gay laugh, he said, "Pardon my merriment, lady, for I cannot help -feeling that it is very absurd to stand thinking of what I shall say, -like a school-boy, though the subject I wish to speak upon is a -serious one. I almost hoped that you would have helped me, for I could -not but think that there was a glance of recognition in your eyes, -when I introduced to you one of my companions below." - -"Nay, my son," replied the abbess; "it was for you to speak. I could -not tell that you yourself had cognizance of what you were doing." - -"Then you did remember him?" exclaimed Lord Chartley. "That is all -well! One part of the difficulty is over, and the greatest. You know -that his liberty, if not his life, is in peril, if he is discovered. -Yet it is needful that he should remain in this neighbourhood for some -days, if possible; and he has directed me to ask if you will give him -protection, and, should need be, concealment, on account of -friendships long ago." - -"Tell him, my lord, I would do so at peril of my life," replied the -abbess; "but, at the same time, it is right he should know to what -security he trusts. The walls of the abbey are strong and solid; but, -alas, we have not men enough within call, to defend them in case of -need; and I have been warned that King Richard's people are hunting -for him shrewdly. Should they track him here, they may use force which -I cannot resist." - -"Then, dear lady, you will be free from all blame, if you are -compelled to give him up," replied Lord Chartley. "Force cannot be -resisted without force; and no one can be censured for yielding to -necessity, just as a very brave dog may well turn tail at a lion." - -"Nay, my good lord, not quite so," replied the abbess. "We poor women -know that wit will often baffle strength; and I think I can provide -for his safety, even should the gates be forced and the abbey -searched. There is a way out, which no one knows nor can discover but -myself and two others. By it I can convey him into the heart of the -wood, where it would take an army, or a pack of hounds, to find him. I -can provide guidance and assistance for him, and I trust that we can -set his persecutors at nought, though there may be some peril and some -anxiety. Pray tell him all this, that he may consider and choose what -he will do." - -"Good faith, he has no choice," answered Lord Chartley, "but this, or -to go forward to Leicester, into the very lion's mouth. He is brave -enough in a good cause, as you would see, if you knew amidst what -perils he travels even now." - -"Ay, my lord, of that I would fain inquire," replied the nun. "'Tis -needful to be cautious--very cautious--in times and circumstances like -these; and not even to you would I have said aught of my remembrance, -had you not spoken first. Now, tell me, do your companions know aught -of who it is that journeys with them?" - -"Not one of them," replied the young lord, "unless it be the subtle -Sir Charles Weinants; and he affects to see nothing. I have some -doubts of him indeed; and if it be as I think, he and the bishop have -been playing a game against each other during our whole journey for -somewhat mighty stakes. If you can but give our friend security for -three days he has won the game." - -"God grant it," cried the abbess; "and, with the help of the Blessed -Virgin, I hope we shall succeed; but I much fear, my noble son, that -what we are this day doing may call down upon us the wrath of Richard -of Gloucester." - -"I trust not, I trust not, dear lady," replied the young lord. "Were I -and my companions and all our train to stay, it might indeed create -suspicion; but no one will or can know that we leave the good priest -here to-night, so that, if any doubts have arisen, pursuit will follow -us in the first place, rather than turn towards the abbey. This is in -truth the reason why I ride on to-night. I would rather lure enmity -away from you, believe me, than bring it upon you. But, I trust there -is no danger. Everything seemed calm and peaceful, when we left -Tamworth--no men at arms about, no appearance of doubt or suspicion." - -"I do not know, my son. I do not know," replied the abbess. "I had -warning of your coming last night. I had warning, too, that danger -might follow." - -"Indeed!" exclaimed Lord Chartley, with a look of much surprise. "This -is strange news. May I ask who was your informant?" - -"One whom I can trust well," answered the abbess, "though he be a man -of humble station; none other than our chief woodman, John Boyd. By -one means or another, he learns all that takes place in the country -round; and he gave me notice, not only that you were on the way -hither, but that you had one with you to whom I should be called upon -to give refuge, and for whose safety I must provide. It is to this -very man's care and guidance, in case of need, that I must trust the -bishop." - -"Hush!" cried Lord Chartley, looking round. "Let us mention no names. -I am called rash and careless, light and over-gay, but, where a -friend's safety is at stake, I must be more thoughtful than I would be -for myself. Pardon me for my asking if you are very sure of this good -man." - -The abbess gave him every assurance in her power, bringing forward all -those strong motives for trusting the woodman, which were quite -conclusive in her eyes, as they would indeed have been in the eyes of -most other ladies, but which did not seem to satisfy her young but -more experienced companion. He asked where the woodman lived, and -mused; then enquired how long he had been in the service of the abbey; -and was still putting questions when the bell for compline rang, and -the abbess was forced to retire. - -On descending to the court, Lord Chartley found Sir Charles Weinants -and the priest, walking up and down before the chapel, not conversing -together indeed, for the latter seemed somewhat silent and gloomy. -With him the young nobleman much desired to speak; but he thought that -it might be dangerous to connect his conference with the abbess in any -degree with the priest, even by addressing him immediately afterwards; -and therefore, turning at once to Sir Charles Weinants, he exclaimed: -"Now, Weinants, let us into the chapel. It is quite dark; and I am -somewhat eager for our supper, to fortify us against our evening's -ride." - -The priest said not a word, but followed the other two as they -advanced towards the place of worship, from which the light of tapers -and the sweet tones of the chant were beginning to pour forth. - -"I am hungry too," replied Weinants, "and agree with you, my good -lord, that a good supper is a very necessary preparation for a long -ride. I hope they will sing quick, for by my faith, even from Tamworth -here, I find, has been a good medicine for a slow digestion. You need -not look round for the others. They are all in waiting eagerly for -this grace before meat--except indeed your infidel, who was lolling in -the stable with his arms round his horse's neck. I should not wonder -if the beast were a princess in disguise, changed into that shape by -some friendly magician, in order that she might share his captivity." - -"The most probable thing in the world," replied Chartley, "but -undoubtedly, were I in his place, I should prefer my lady mistress -with less hair upon her face; but come, let us cease our jokes; for -here we are; and you will perhaps scandalize our reverend friend -here." - -Thus saying, they entered the chapel and placed themselves by one of -the pillars while the service proceeded. - -If the ceremonial observances of the Romish church are many, the -services have at all events the advantage of being brief; and, on this -occasion, the visitors of the abbey were detained for even a shorter -space of time than the abbess had mentioned. As soon as the last notes -of the chant were over, the abbess and her nuns retired from their -latticed gallery; and then, for the first time, she notified to her -nieces that she expected them to assist her in entertaining her -guests. - -"Oh, my dear aunt, pray excuse me," exclaimed Iola, while Constance -submitted quite quietly. "I would rather a thousandfold sup alone in -the penitential cell, than with all these men. They have frightened -me out of my wits once to-night already, especially that gay -gossamer-looking youth, whom the young lord called Hungerford." - -"I must have it so, Iola," replied her aunt. "I have my reasons for -it, so no nonsense, child. As for men," she continued, resuming a -gayer tone, "you will soon find, when more accustomed to them, they -are not such furious wild beasts as they seem. With them, as with -bulls and dogs, they are only dangerous to those who are frightened at -them. Treat them boldly and repel them sharply, and they soon come -fawning and crouching at your feet. Man is a very contemptible animal, -my dear child, if you did but know all. However, you shall sit beside -the priest--between him and the young lord, so you will escape the -other, who is but one of the empty courtiers of the day, such as I -recollect them in my youth--a sort of thing that a woman of spirit -could squeeze to death as she would a wasp in a hawking-glove. I dare -say Constance does not fear him." - -"I would rather not sit near him," replied the other quietly. "His -perfumes make me sick. I would rather not live next door neighbour to -a civet cat. Let me entertain the bluff old gentleman, aunt. His rough -speeches are much more pleasant to my ear than all the other's soft -sayings." - -"Don't call him old to his face, Constance," replied her aunt, "or his -sayings will be rough enough, depend upon it. Why I do not think he is -forty, child; and no man ever thinks himself old till he has told up -to seventy, and then he begins to fancy he is growing aged, and had -better begin to lead a new life." - -The two girls laughed gaily; and in a few minutes they were seated, as -had been arranged, at the plentiful table which had been prepared for -their aunt's distinguished guests. I will not pause upon the feast. -The reader is well aware of the abundant provision which had been made -by the worthy woodman, and would be but little edified to hear of the -strange ways in which the various dishes were dressed, or the odd -sauces with which they were savoured. - -The meal, as was usual in those days, lasted a long while; and the -conversation was somewhat more gay and lively than one would be -inclined to imagine was common within the walls of a convent. At -first, indeed, it was somewhat stiff and restrained; but there was a -gay, careless, happy spirit in the bosom of the young nobleman, who -sat beside the abbess, which soon banished the restraint of fresh -acquaintance, and made every one feel as if they had known him for -years. This was less difficult to effect with the elder lady than with -Iola who sat on his other hand; but even she could not resist the -current long; and a certain degree of timidity, the natural fruit of -retirement from the world, gave way under the influence of his -cheerful tone, till she caught herself laughing and talking gaily with -him, and suffering unconsciously all the fresh thoughts of a bright -pure heart to well forth like the waters of a spring. She paused and -blushed deeply, when first she suddenly discovered that such was the -case; and, bending down his head, for the conversation at the moment -was general and loud, he said, with a kind and graceful smile, but in -a low tone-- - -"Nay, nay, close not the casket! The jewels are well worthy of being -seen." - -"I know not what you mean, my lord;" she said, blushing more deeply -than before. - -"I mean," he answered, "that, judging by your look and sudden pause, I -think you have just found out that the door of the heart and the mind -has been partly opened to the eye of a stranger,--though it is but by -a chink,--and I would fain have you not close it against him, with the -key of cold formality. In a word, let us go on as if you had not made -the discovery, and do not draw back into yourself, as if you were -afraid of letting your real nature come abroad lest it should take -cold." - -Whether she would or not, a smile came upon her lip; and, after a -minute's pause, she answered frankly-- - -"Well, I will not. It is but for a little time that it can take the -air." - -At that moment the general conversation seemed to drop; and Lord -Chartley saw the eye of the abbess turned towards him. - -"It is excellent good," he said aloud, "made into a pie; but, I hate -pasties of all kinds, if it be but for hiding under a thick crust the -good things they contain. Nevertheless, it is excellent good." - -"What?" asked the abbess. - -"A squirrel," replied Lord Chartley. "Oh, there is nothing like your -gay clambering nutcracker, who scrambles about from branch to branch, -drinking the dew of heaven, leaping through the free air, and feeding -on the topmost fruits, of which he must ever crack the shell to get at -the kernel. He is excellent in a pasty, I assure you. Is he not, -Hungerford?" - -"Exceeding good," answered the knight, from the other side of the -table; "but a young pea-fowl is better." - -In this sort of conversation passed the time; and Iola, to say sooth, -was amused and pleased. She did not, however, forget to show kind -attention to the friar on her right; and he, on his part, seemed -pleased and interested by her manner towards him. He spoke little, -indeed; but all that he did say was powerful and pointed. Iola, -however, could not but remark that he eat hardly anything, while the -others seemed to enjoy the dainties prepared for them highly; and she -pressed him kindly to take more food. - -"I am much fatigued, my daughter," he said aloud, "and do not feel -well to-night. The less, therefore, I take perhaps the better." - -Lord Charley instantly caught at the words-- - -"Nay, good father," he said, "were it not better for you to take a -little repose in your chamber, before we ride? I have marked all the -evening that you seemed ill." - -"Perhaps it were as well," answered the friar, rising; "but let me not -abridge your enjoyment. I will find my way to my lodging and lie down -for a while;" and, thus saying, he quitted the room. - -The slightest possible smile curled the lip of Sir Charles Weinants. -It passed away instantly; but it had been remarked; and, being the -most discreet man in the world, he felt that the smile was an -indiscretion, and, to cover it, asked in a gay but ordinary tone-- - -"Why, what is the matter with the friar? You have knocked him up, my -excellent lord, with your quick travelling. The poor man, I should -think, is not accustomed to the back of a hard-trotting horse; and we -rode those last ten miles in less than an hour." - -"He seems, indeed, a good deal tired," replied Chartley; "but I think -it was yesterday's journey, rather than to-day's, that so much -fatigued him. We rode full forty miles before we met with you, and -five or six afterwards. You know, I never think, Weinants, or I should -have had more compassion." - -Here the conversation dropped; and, after sitting at table for about -half an hour longer, the whole party rose, and Lord Chartley bade a -graceful adieu to the abbess, saying-- - -"I trust that my poor friend, father William, is by this time well -enough to proceed." - -"Can you not leave him here, my son?" said the abbess. "He shall be -well tended, and gladly entertained." - -"Oh, no, no;" replied the young nobleman. "I dare say he is well -enough now; and I am bound to my own paternal castle, dear lady, and -about to establish for the first time therein a regular household. I -must take him with me; therefore, if it be possible, for an almoner is -the first great requisite. Farewell then, with many grateful thanks -for your hospitality. I will not forget the subjects on which we -spoke; and they shall have immediate attention." - - - - -CHAPTER VI. - - -The trumpet sounded on the green beyond the walls; and by torch and -lantern light the young lord and his companions mounted in the court -before the chapel, and rode forth to join their attendants, after -bestowing some rich gifts upon the abbey. Though the sky was not -unclouded, for there were large masses of heavy vapour rolling -across the southern part of the horizon, and the night was much warmer -than that which had preceded, auguring rain to the minds of the -weather-wise, yet the moon was bright and clear, displaying every -object upon the little green as clearly almost as if it had been day. -Though not very fond of deeds of darkness, young Lord Chartley perhaps -might have wished the beams of the fair planet not quite so bright. At -all events, he seemed in a great hurry to proceed upon his journey, -without any very strict inspection of his band; for he exclaimed at -once-- - -"Now, Arden; now, Weinants; let us on at a quick canter. We shall -sleep well tonight." - -But the eye of Sir Charles Weinants scanned the party by the moonlight -more accurately than that of his companion; and he demanded aloud-- - -"Why, where is the friar?" - -"He is too unwell to ride on to-night. He will follow to-morrow," said -Lord Chartley, in a careless tone; and, striking his horse with the -spur, he proceeded, but not before he had remarked Sir Charles -Weinants make a very particular sign to one of his own attendants. The -knight raised his finger to his lips, pointed with his thumb to the -abbey, and then held up two fingers of the same hand. No sooner was -this done than he shook his rein, and followed his companion, -apparently unconscious that he had been observed. - -For a minute or two the young lord seemed uneasy, riding on in -silence, and frequently giving a sharp glance round to those who came -behind; but he soon recovered his equanimity, I might say -cheerfulness, for he laughed and talked gaily with those around him, -especially when they came to that part of the road where, passing -through the forest, it ascended a hill so steep that the pace of the -horses was necessarily slackened. Sir Charles Weinants, for his part, -joined in, with his quiet gentlemanly cheerfulness, and seemed -perfectly free and unembarrassed. - -The subject of their conversation, it is true, was not a very merry -one; for they soon began to speak of the discovery of a dead man lying -on that very road, the night before--killed, as was supposed, by a -fall from his horse--an account of which they had received at the -abbey, where the corpse was still lying. Light-hearted superficial -man, however, rarely suffers any event which happens to his neighbours -to produce any very deep or permanent impression on himself; and it is -wonderful how merry that party of gentlemen made themselves with the -fate of the dead man. - -"See what it is to go too fast, Weinants," said Lord Chartley. -"Doubtless this fellow was riding a hired horse, and thought he might -ride him, up hill and down dale, as hard as he liked; and so the poor -beast threw him to get rid of an unpleasant burden." - -"Served him quite right, I dare say," said bluff Sir William Arden. - -"Why, how can you know, Arden?" demanded Sir Edward Hungerford, who -was riding his own beast in the most delicate and approved manner of -the times. "He might be as virtuous as an anchorite for aught you -know." - -"The best man that ever lived," answered Arden, "deserves every hour -to break his neck, and worse too; and there never yet was a king's -courier, which they say this was, who is not worthy of the pillory -from the moment he puts the livery on his back. A set of vermin. I -wish I had but the purifying of the court. You would see very few -ears, or noses either, walking about the purlieus of the palace; and -as for couriers, I'd set them upon horseback, and have relays of men -behind them, to flog them on from station to station, for two or three -thousand miles, till they dropped off dead from fatigue and -starvation--I would indeed. They should neither have meat, nor drink, -nor sleep, nor rest, till they expired." - -Lord Chartley laughed, for he knew his friend well; and Sir Charles -Weinants enquired-- - -"Why, what do the poor wretches do, to merit such high indignation, -Arden?" - -"Do!" exclaimed the other. "What do they not do? Are they not the -petty tyrants of every inn and every village? Do they not think -themselves justified by the beastly livery they wear, to rob every -host and every farmer, to pay for nothing that they take, to drink ale -and wine gratis, to kiss the daughter, seduce the wife, and ride the -horses to death, because they are on a king's service, forsooth--out -upon the whole race of them. We have not a punishment within the whole -scope of our criminal law that is not too good for them." - -"Hush, hush, Arden," cried Lord Chartley, laughing again; "if you do -not mind, Weinants will tell the king; and it will be brought in high -treason." - -"How so, how so?" demanded Sir William Arden, with a start; for the -very name of high treason was a serious affair in those days, when the -axe was seldom long polished before it was dimmed again with human -blood. - -"Why, do you not know the old proverb, 'like master like man?'" asked -Chartley; "so that if you abuse the king's couriers you abuse the king -himself. It seems to me constructive treason at all events. What say -you, Hungerford?" - -"Very shocking indeed," said the gentleman whom he addressed, yawning -heartily; "but I hate all couriers too. They are very unsavoury -fellows, give you their billets with hot hands, and bring a hideous -smell of horse flesh and boot leather into the chamber with them. I -always order those who come to me to be kept an hour in a chill -ante-room, to cool and air themselves." - -From the characters of all who surrounded him, Lord Chartley seemed to -draw no little amusement; but still, it would appear, his eye was -watchful, and his ear too; for, when they had ridden about a couple -of miles through the wood, and were in a shady place, where the beams -of the moon did not penetrate, he suddenly reined in his horse, -exclaiming-- - -"Some one has left the company--Hark! Who is that riding away?" - -"Faith, I know not," said Sir Charles Weinants. - -"I hear nobody," replied Hungerford. - -"There go a horse's feet, nevertheless," cried Sir William Arden. - -"Gentlemen all, have you sent any one back?" demanded the young baron, -in a stern tone. - -A general negative was the reply; and Chartley exclaimed-- - -"Then, by the Lord, I will find him. Ride on, gentlemen, ride on. I -will overtake you soon." - -"Let me come with you, my good lord," said Sir William Arden. - -"No, no, I will find him, and deal with him alone," replied the young -lord; and, turning his head to add--"You can wait for me at Hinckley -if you will," he spurred on sharply, on the road which led back -towards the abbey. The party whom he left remained gathered together -for a moment, in surprise at the rapidity and the strangeness of his -movements. - -"In the name of fortune," cried Sir Edward Hungerford, "why does he -not take somebody with him?" - -"Every one knows his own business best," said Arden gruffly. - -"Hush! hush!" said Sir Charles Weinants. "Let us hear which way he -takes." - -Now at the distance of perhaps two hundred yards behind them, the road -through the wood divided into two; that on the left, by which they had -come, leading direct to the abbey and its little hamlet; that on the -right pursuing a somewhat circuitous course towards the small town of -Atherston. The footfalls of Lord Chartley's horse, as he urged him -furiously on, could be clearly heard as soon as Sir Charles Weinants -had done speaking; and a moment after they seemed to take a direction -to the right. The party still paused and listened, however, till it -became clear by the sounds that the young nobleman had gone upon the -road to Atherston. - -Then Sir Charles Weinants drew a deep breath, and said, in an easy -tone: "Well, let us ride on. We can wait for him at Hinckley. -Doubtless, he is safe enough." - -Sir William Arden seemed to hesitate; and Lord Chartley's steward said -in a doubtful tone: "I think we ought to wait for my lord." - -"You heard what he said himself," replied Sir Charles Weinants. "Our -business is to go slowly on, and wait for him at Hinckley, if he does -not overtake us by the way." - -So was it in the end determined, and the party proceeded at a foot -pace in the direction which they had before been taking. Mile after -mile they rode on without being overtaken by their companion, every -now and then pausing for a minute or two, to listen for his horse's -feet, and then resuming their progress, till at length they arrived at -Hinckley. They entered the inn yard, just at the moment that the -carriers from Ashby de la Zouche to Northampton usually presented -themselves with their packhorses; and they instantly had out landlord -and ostlers, and all the retinue of the inn, with lanterns in -abundance. - -"Stay!" said Sir William Arden, as the attendants were hurrying to -dismount, and lead their lords' horses to the stables. "Please Heaven, -we will see who it is that is wanting." - -"No need of that," exclaimed Sir Charles Weinants. "We shall learn -soon enough, no doubt." - -But the good knight, who was a steady campaigner, and one of the best -soldiers of his day, adhered tenaciously to his purpose, ordered the -gates of the inn-yard to be closed, and the doors of the house and of -the stables to be shut and locked. He next insisted that the servants -should draw up in separate bodies, the attendants of each master in a -distinct line, and then made the ostlers carry their lanterns along -the face of each. - -"One of your men is wanting, Sir Charles Weinants," he said at length. -"It must have been he who rode away, and left his company in the -forest." - -"More fool, or more knave he," replied Sir Charles Weinants, coolly. -"He shall be punished for his pains by losing his wages. But, if I am -not mistaken, there is another wanting too. Where is Lord Chartley's -Moor? I have not seen him for some time, and do not perceive him now." - -"He staid behind in the wood, Sir Charles," replied one of the -servants, "to look after the noble lord. He said--let go who would, he -would stay there." - -"Perhaps my man staid for the same purpose?" said Sir Charles -Weinants. - -"No, sir," answered another of the servants, attached to Sir William -Arden. "He left us some minutes before Lord Chartley, while we were -still riding on through the forest." - -"Well, gentlemen, I shall remain here till my friend comes," said -Arden, in a marked tone; "for I do not altogether like this affair." - -"And I shall stay, because I have had riding enough for one day; and -the inn looks comfortable," said Sir Edward Hungerford. - -"I shall ride on, as soon as my horses have been fed and watered," -rejoined Sir Charles Weinants, in a cold resolute tone; "because I -have business of importance which calls me to Leicester." - -His determination did not seem very pleasant to Sir William Arden, who -looked at him steadily for a moment, from under his bent brows, and -then walked once or twice up and down the court, without ordering the -doors of the stables to be opened. - -Weinants, however, took that task upon himself. His horses received -their food and devoured it eagerly; and then, just as the carriers -were arriving, Sir Charles Weinants rode out of the court yard, -bidding his companions adieu in the most perfectly civil and courteous -terms. - -Sir William Arden suffered him to depart, but most unwillingly it must -be confessed, and, when he was gone, turned to Sir Edward Hungerford, -saying: "I should like to skin him alive, the cold-blooded double -dealer. It is very strange, what can have become of Lord Chartley." - -"Strange!" said Sir Edward Hungerford, in a tone of affected surprise; -"why, he has gone to say a few more words to that pretty girl at the -abbey, to be sure. I should not wonder to see him arrive in half an -hour, with the dear little thing on a pillion behind him." - -"Pshaw!" said Arden. "You are a fool;" and he turned into the inn. - - - - -CHAPTER VII. - - -It was a dark night; and the appearance of the cottage or hut was, in -the inside at least, gloomy enough. The large wooden boards, which -shut out wind and storm, covered the apertures that served for -windows; and neither lamp nor taper, nor even a common resin candle, -gave light within. Yet it was only a sort of half darkness that -reigned in the first chamber, as one entered from the forest; for a -large fire was burning on the hearth, and a log weighing some -hundredweight had just been put on. The dry unlopped shoots, and -withered leaves which still hung around the trunk of the decayed tree, -had caught fire first, and the flame they produced went flashing round -the walls with a sort of fitful glare, displaying all that they -contained. - -The room was a large one, larger indeed than many, in buildings with -far greater pretensions; for the chief woodman had upon particular -occasions to assemble a great number of his foresters under that roof. -Whole deer were often brought in to be broken and flayed, as the terms -were, and prepared for cooking, before they were sent down to the more -delicate hands of the abbey. Besides, the woodman's house was usually -in those days a place of general hospitality; and, indeed, the good -ladies of the abbey always passed right willingly the charges which he -sometimes had to make for the entertainment of strangers and wayfarers -on their lands. - -As compared with a poor man's cottage of the present day, that of the -woodman was a large but very wretched abode; but as compared with the -huts of the ordinary peasantry of the time, it was a splendid mansion. -The walls were formed of large beams of wood, crossing and supporting -each other in various strange directions, forming a sort of pattern or -figure inside and out, not unpleasant to look upon. The interstices -were filled up with mud, mingled with small gravel stones and thick -loam; and the floor was of mud, well battened down and hardened, -though, in spite of all care, it presented various inequalities to the -foot. Ceiling, as may well be supposed, the chamber had none. Large, -heavy, roughly hewn rafters appeared above, with the inside of the -thatch visible between the beams. A partition wall, with a rude door -in it, crossed the building at about one third of its length, but this -wall was raised no higher than those which formed the enclosure, that -is to say, about seven or at most eight feet; and thus, though the -lower part of the building was divided into several chambers, a clear -passage for air, or sound, or rats, or mice, existed immediately under -the roof, from one end of the building to the other. The most solid or -massive piece of architecture in the whole structure was the chimney, -with its enormously wide hearth and projecting wings. These were all -built of hewn stone, the same as that of which the abbey was composed; -and before the cottage was raised around it--for the chimney was built -first--the mass must have looked like an obelisk in the midst of the -forest. - -Although we have greatly abandoned that sort of building at present, -and doubtless our houses are more warm and air-tight than those of -that day; yet the plan of these large wooden frame-works, with the -beams shown on the inside and the out, was not without its -convenience. Thus nails and hooks, and shelves and cupboards, were -easily fixed in, or against the walls, without any danger of knocking -down the plaster, or injuring the painting. Indeed, I do not know what -the woodman would have done without this convenience, for the whole -walls, on three sides at least, were studded with hooks and pegs, from -which were suspended all sorts of implements belonging to his craft, -and a variety of other goods and chattels. There were axes, knives, -saws, bills, wedges, mallets, hammers, picks; long bows, cross bows, -sheaves of arrows, bags of quarrels, boar-spears, nets, and two or -three pronged forks, some serrated at the edges like Neptune's -trident, and evidently intended to bring up unwilling eels out of -their native mud. Then again there were various garments, such as a -woodman might be supposed to use, leathern coats, large boots, a cloth -jerkin, apparently for days of ceremony, gloves made of the thickest -parts of a buck's hide, and a cap almost shaped like a morion, of -double-jacked leather, which would have required a sharp sword and -strong arm to cut it through. But, besides this defensive piece of -clothing, which was probably intended rather for the forest than the -field, was the ordinary steel cap, back and breastplate of a feudal -archer of the period; for each woodman was bound to serve the abbey in -arms for a certain period, in case of need. - -Hanging from the beams above, was a very comfortable store of winter -provision, several fat sides of bacon, half a side of a fallow deer -salted and dried, and several strings of large sausages smoked in the -most approved manner. Bunches of dried herbs too were there, and a -salt fish or two, to eke out the lentil soup and eggs upon a fast day. - -Within the wings of the large chimney, on a coarse wooden settle, and -with his foot resting upon the end of one of the iron dogs or -andirons, sat the woodman himself. His arms were crossed upon his -chest. His back rested against the wall of the chimney; and his eyes -were fixed upon the blazing fire, as if one of those musing fits had -seized him, in which eye and fancy are at work, seeing castles, and -towers, and landscapes, and faces in the mouldering embers, while the -mind, abstracted from the outward scene, is busy in the quiet secrecy -of the heart with things of more deep and personal interest. By his -side sat a large wolf dog, of a kind not often seen in England, in -form like a gigantic greyhound, covered with shaggy slate-coloured -hair, thickly grizzled with grey, especially about the head and paws. - -His long gaunt jaws rested on the woodman's knee; and sometimes he -turned his contemplative eyes upon the fire, seeming to watch it, and -muse upon its nature; and sometimes he raised them with a sleepy but -affectionate look to his master's face, as if he would fain have -spoken to him and asked him, "What shall we do next?" - -Not a look did the poor hound get for some time, however, for his -master had other things to think of; but at last the good man laid his -hand upon the shaggy head, and said "Honest and true, and the only -one!" - -He then resumed his musing again, till at length the dog rose up, and, -with slow and stately steps, advanced to the door, and putting down -his nose, seemed to snuff the air from without. The woodman lifted up -his head and listened; but the only sounds which were audible were -those produced by the footfalls of a horse at a distance; and, turning -round to the fire again with a well-pleased look, the woodman -murmured, "Good. He is coming this way." - -He did not budge from his settle, however, nor seem to pay much -attention, till the rapid footfalls of the horse seemed to cease -altogether, or turn, in a different direction. Then he looked up and -said, "That is strange. He cannot have missed his way after having -twice found it before." - -He listened attentively; but still there was no sound audible to his -ear; and it was the dog who first discovered that a stranger was -approaching. A low growl and then a fierce sharp bark were the -intimations which he gave, as soon as his ear caught the sound of a -step, and his master immediately called him to him, saying, "Hither, -Ban, hither. Down to foot--down, sir;" and the obedient hound -immediately stretched himself out at length beside the fire. - -The woodman, in the mean time, gave an attentive ear, and at length -distinguished the steps of a man approaching, mixed occasionally with -the slow fall of horses' hoofs upon turfy ground, where the iron shoe -from time to time struck against a pebble, but otherwise made no -noise. Nevertheless he sat still till the noise, after becoming louder -and louder, stopped suddenly, as if the traveller had paused upon a -small green which stretched out before the door, comparatively open -and free from trees for the space of about three quarters of an acre, -although here and there a solitary beech rose out of the turf, -overshadowing the greater part of the space. No brushwood was there, -however, and the small forest road traversed the green on its way -towards the distant town, spreading out into a wide sort of sandy -track, nearly opposite to the woodman's house. - -As soon as the sound of footsteps ceased, the first inhabitant of the -cottage strode across, and threw open the door, demanding, "Who goes -there?" - -The answer was as usual--"a friend;" but, before he gave him admission -or credence, the woodman was inclined to demand further explanations, -saying, "Every man in this day professes himself a friend, and is -often an enemy. Say, what friend, and whence?" - -The visitor, however, without reply, proceeded to fasten his horse to -a large iron hook, which projected from one of the beams of the -cottage, and then advanced straight towards the woodman, who still -stood in his doorway. The man eyed him as he came near, and then, -seeming better satisfied, retired a step or two to give him entrance. -The traveller came forward with a bold free step, and without ceremony -walked into the cottage, and took a seat by the fire. - -"Now let us talk a little, my friend," he said, turning to the -woodman; "but first shut the door." - -The other did as he was bid, and then, turning round, gazed at the -stranger from head to foot with a slight smile. After his -contemplation was finished, he pulled his own settle to a little -distance and seated himself, saying, "Well?" while the large hound, -after snuffing quietly at the stranger's boots, laid his head upon his -knee and looked up in his face. - -"You are a hospitable man, I doubt not," said the visitor, "and will -give me shelter for an hour or two, I trust. I have ridden hard, as -you may see." - -"But not far or long since supper time," rejoined the woodman: "but -what want you with me, my lord?" - -"You seem to know me," said Lord Chartley, "and indeed are a very -knowing person, if I may believe all.--Are you alone here?" - -"Yes, we are man to man," answered the woodman with a laugh. - -"Is there no one at the back of that door?" demanded Lord Chartley. - -"Nothing more substantial than the wind," replied the other. "Of that -there is sometimes too much." - -"Pray how do you know me?" demanded Lord Chartley. - -"I never said I know you," answered the woodman. "Are not your silks -and satins, your gilt spurs, the jewel in your bonnet, to say nothing -of the golden St. Barnabas, and your twisted sword hilt, enough to -mark you out as a lord? But Lord, Lord, what do I care for a lord? -However, I do know you, and I will tell you how far it is marvellous. -I was in Tamworth yesterday, and saw a man wonderfully gaily dressed, -upon a horse which must have cost full three hundred angels, with some -forty or fifty followers, all gaily dressed too; so I asked one of the -cunning men of the place, who the gay man on the fine horse was, and -he answered, it was the young Lord Chartley. Was not that surprising?" - -"Not very," replied Lord Chartley laughing; "but what came after was -more marvellous; how this cunning man should have known that the young -Lord Chartley would sup at the abbey of Atherston St. Clare tonight." - -"It was," answered the woodman, in the same sort of ironical tone, -"especially as the Lord Chartley mentioned his purpose gaily to Sir -Edward Hungerford, and Sir Edward Hungerford told it to Sir Charles -Weinants, and Sir Charles Weinants to his servant Dick Hagger, who, as -in duty bound, told it to Boyd the woodman, and asked if there were -really any pretty girls to be seen at the abbey, or whether it was a -mere gibe of the good lord's." - -"The good lord was a great fool for his pains," said Lord Chartley, -thoughtfully; "and yet not so much so either, for it was needful to -give a prying ass some reason for going." - -"Take care, my good lord," replied the woodman, nodding his head -sententiously, "Take care that you don't find the prying ass a vicious -ass too. Those donkies kick very hard sometimes, and there is no -knowing when they will begin." - -"Oh, this is a soft fool," replied the nobleman. "I fear him not. -There are others I fear more." - -"And none too much," replied the woodman, "though this man you fear -too little." - -Lord Chartley sat and mused for several moments without reply. Then, -raising his head suddenly, he looked full in the woodman's face, -saying, "Come, come, my friend, we must speak more clearly. If what -the abbess told me be true, you should know that we are upon no -jesting matters." - -"Good faith, I jest not, my lord," said the woodman. "I speak in as -sober seriousness as ever I can use in this merry world, where -everything is so light that nothing deserves a heavy thought. Why, -here the time was, and I remember it well, when taking a man's life -without battle or trial was held to be murder by grave old gentlemen -with white beards. Now heads fall down like chesnuts about the yellow -autumn time of the year, and no one heeds it any more than if they -were pumpkins. Then again I recollect the time when a man confided in -his wife and she did not betray him, and might lend his purse to his -friend without having his throat cut as payment of the debt. Learned -clerks, in those days, sang songs and not lewd ballads; and even a -courtier would tell truth--sometimes. It is long ago indeed; but now, -when life, and faith, and truth cannot be counted upon for lasting -more than five minutes beyond the little present moment in which we -stand, how can any man be very serious upon any subject? There is -nothing left in the world that is worth two thoughts." - -"Methinks there is," answered Lord Chartley; "but you touch upon the -things which brought me here. If faith and truth be as short-lived as -you would have it, master woodman, how would you, that either the -abbess or I, or a person to whom I will at present give no name, -should trust you in a matter where his life, ay, and more than his -life, is perilled?" - -"Faith, only as a dire necessity," answered the woodman, in an -indifferent tone, "and because there is none other whom you can trust. -The abbess will trust me, perhaps, because she knows me; you, because -it is too late to think of any other means; and your nameless person, -because he cannot help it." - -"I know not that it is too late," replied Lord Chartley. "You have not -got the tally board so completely in your hand, my friend, as to run -up the score without looking at the other side. But, in a word, I have -made a good excuse to leave my friends and servants, in order to see -whether I could obtain some warrant for trusting you, in a matter of -such deep importance as that which may perhaps be soon cast upon you." - -"The best of all warrants for a man's good faith, my lord," answered -the woodman, "is the certainty that he can gain nothing by breaking -it. Now to speak plainly, I knew yesterday that good old Father -Morton, bishop of Ely, was housed at Tamworth under the gown of a -friar. To-night I know that he is lodged in the abbey. Had it so -pleased me either yesterday or to-day, I could have brought over as -many of King Richard's bands from Coleshill as would have soon -conveyed his right reverence to the tower, and if reward is to be got, -could have got it. Therefore, it is not a bit more likely that I -should betray him, were he now standing under this roof, than -yesterday in Tamworth, or to-day at Atherston St. Clare." - -"There is some truth in what you say," answered Lord Chartley; "and I -believe the best plan is to let a good dog beat the ground his own -way. Yet I would fain know how you were informed that such a person -was with me." - -"What has that to do with the matter?" answered the woodman. "Take it -all for granted. You see I am informed. What matters how?" - -"Because it is somewhat suspicious," answered Lord Chartley at once, -"that you should gain intelligence having no reference to your calling -or station, while others both shrewd and watchful have gained none." - -"I have no intelligence," replied the woodman. "Everything is simple -enough when we look at it close. I saw the bishop dismount, knew him, -and understood the whole business in a minute. He was kind to some -whom I loved in years long past; and I do not forget faces--that is -all. But now, my good lord, you have somewhat squeezed me with -examinations. Let me ask you a question or two, of quite as much -moment. On what excuse did you leave your friends and servants?" - -"Good faith, you know so much," replied Lord Chartley, "that methinks -you might know that also. However, as I must trust you in more weighty -matters, I may as well tell that too. I have some doubts of one of our -party, who joined us just on the other side of Tamworth, and has -adhered closely to us ever since." - -"Like a wet boot to a swelled ancle, I will answer for it," said the -woodman, "if you mean the knave Weinants." - -"I mean no other," answered Lord Chartley; "but however to my tale;" -and he proceeded to relate all that had occurred that night in the -wood. "I did not follow the man, I pretended to follow," he continued, -"because I knew that was in vain. He had got too far away from me; -and, moreover, had I caught him, what could I have done? I have no -power over Sir Charles Weinant's servants, and he had but to name his -lord, and plead his orders, and my authority was at an end; but as the -good lady abbess was very confident she could, by your help, insure -our friend's safety, even should the abbey be searched, I came hither -to make myself more sure, by talking with you myself." - -While the young nobleman had been speaking, the woodman had risen up, -with a somewhat eager and anxious eye, but continued gazing upon him, -without interrupting him, till he had done. - -"This must be looked to," he said, at length; "there is no time to be -lost. Are you sure these excellent friends of yours have gone on?" - -"So I besought them," answered the other. - -"Besought them!" said the woodman. "We must have better security than -beseechings;" and, taking a horn that was hanging against the wall, he -went to the door and blew two notes, twice repeated. - -"We shall soon have some tidings," he said, returning into the hut. "I -have got my deer-keepers watching in different places; for our rogues -here are fond of venison, as well as their neighbours, and care not -much whether it be in or out of season." - -"So then you are head keeper, as well as head woodman?" said Lord -Chartley. - -"Ay, my lord," answered the other. "We have no fine degrees and -distinctions here. We mix all trades together, woodman, verderers, -keepers, rangers. 'Tis not like a royal forest, nor an earl's park, -where no man ventures out of his own walk. This Sir Charles Weinants," -he continued, in a musing tone; "so he joined you on the other side of -Tamworth. 'Tis strange he did not betray you earlier." - -"He seemed not to know there was anything to betray," replied the -young lord; "looked innocent and unconscious, and talked of points and -doublets, and the qualities of Spanish leather, women, and perfumes, -with Sir Edward Hungerford; or of horses, and suits of armour, cannon, -and such like things, with Arden; or with me of sheep, poetry, and -policy, the fit furnishing of an old hall, or a great feast for -Christmas Day." - -"He knew his men belike," said the woodman, with a cynical smile. - -"Perhaps he did," replied the young lord, somewhat sternly, "and might -be sure that, if he betrayed my friend in my company, I would cut his -throat without waiting for royal permission, though he had all the -kings in Christendom for his patrons." - -"That might have a share in his discretion, it is true," answered the -woodman; "but we must not have him hear our counsels now, and must -make sure that he and his, as well as your own people, have ridden -on." - -"How can we learn that?" demanded Chartley. - -"We shall hear anon," answered the woodman; and in a minute or two -after the door opened, and a man in a forester's garb put in a round -head covered with curly hair, demanding-- - -"What would you, master Boyd?" - -"How goes all above?" demanded the woodman. - -"All well," answered the forester. - -"Upon the road," said Boyd; "upon the Hinckley road?" - -"The company from the abbey just passed, all but three," replied the -man. "One rode away first, and took the Coleshill road, so Tim Harris -says. The other followed five minutes after, and came hither." - -"Who was the third?" asked Lord Chartley eagerly. - -The man did not answer for a moment, but looked to the woodman, who -nodded his head, and then the other replied-- - -"'Twas the tawny Moor. He is up the road there, within sight of the -door." - -"Let him rest, let him rest," said the woodman. "Can you trust him, my -good lord?" - -"Better than I could trust a king, a minister, or a lover," replied -Chartley. "If ever there was true faith, out of a big dog, it lies -under that brown skin." - -"To Coleshill?" said the woodman, musing and turning round the horn in -his hand, as if he were examining it curiously. "Ten miles by the -nearest way. We shall hear more soon, but not for three hours, I wot. -Go along Dick, and get two or three more upon the Coleshill road, -about half a mile or so from the abbey. Set one up in a tree; and if -he sees a band of men coming down, let him sound three notes upon his -horn, over and over, till he is answered. You, yourself, as soon as -you hear the sound, run down to the abbey, and make St. Clare's baby -call out aloud. Tell the portress to let the lady abbess know there -are enemies coming near, and that she had better take counsel -immediately. Then draw altogether here, as many men as you can get, -for we may have work to do. Away with you! And now, my good lord," he -continued, as the man shut the door, "I must have my supper, and if -you like to share it, you shall have woodman's fare." - -"I have supped already," replied Lord Chartley; "and methinks you eat -late for a forester. They are always ready enough for their meals." - -"I am ready enough for mine," replied the woodman, "seeing that no -morsel has passed my lips this day. I never touch food, of any kind, -till midnight is near at hand. I am like a hunting dog, which, to do -its work well, should have but one meal a-day." - -"Your habits are somewhat strange, for a man of your condition," said -Lord Chartley, "and your language also." - -"Oh," said the woodman, "as for my language, I have seen courts, and -am courtly. Why, I was for several years a lackey to a great man; but -my preferment was spoiled by the jealousy of other lackeys, so, to -save myself from worse, I ran away and betook myself to the woods and -wilds; but I can be as delicate and mincing as a serving maid should -need be, and as full of courtesies as a queen's ape. I am like every -widow of sixty, and like every parson in rusty black without a parish; -I have had my sorrows and seen my best days, which makes me at times -melancholic; but I haven't forgot my gentility, when it suits my turn, -nor the choice words which one perfunctorily gathers up in courts." - -All this was said in a bitter and sneering manner, as if he made a -mockery of the very acquirements he boasted of; and Lord Chartley -replied: "By my faith, I believe your last trade is honester than your -first, my good friend. However, get your supper, and tell me in the -mean while, in plain English, what you think all this will come to." - -The woodman took down a large bowl from a shelf on the one side of the -room, and poured a part of the milk that it contained into an iron -pot. This he suspended over the fire, by a hook which hung dangling -over the blaze, and when the milk began to boil, scattered a handful -of oatmeal in it, stirring it round at the same time, till it was of a -tolerable thick consistency. Upon this mess, when he had removed it -from the fire and placed it on the table, he poured the rest of the -milk cold. But it must not be supposed that all this time he had -refrained from speaking. On the contrary, in brief and broken -sentences, he replied to the young nobleman's question, saying, "What -will become of it? Why, simply Richard's bands will be down about the -abbey in an hour or two, and will search every corner of it--or set it -on fire, perchance, or any thing else that they please to do." - -"They will hardly dare, I think," said Lord Chartley. "This abbey, I -am told, has the privilege of sanctuary, and if King Richard has a -quality on earth, on which he can justly pride himself, it is his -strictness in repressing the lawless violence which has risen up in -times of long and fierce contention." - -"Ay, lawless violence in other men," said the woodman; "but crimes -committed in our own cause become gentle failings in the eyes of -tyrants. The man who punishes a robber or assassin, rewards a murder -committed on the king's behalf. Was princely Buckingham the other day -judged by the laws or sentenced by his peers? No, no. The king's word -was warrant enough for his death, and would be for the sacking of the -abbey. There is but one respect which could save it. This king would -fain be thought religious; and he has respected sanctuary before -now--where it served the purposes of a prison as well as a refuge; but -he is cunning as well as resolute; and he will find means to hide his -share in the deed he profits by. Look you here now, my good lord; -suppose some band of mere plunderers attacks the abbey, as was done -not very long ago; then an obnoxious bishop may fall into the king's -hands, without his avowing the deed." - -"But his officers would be recognised," replied Lord Chartley. - -"True, if the deed were committed by regular troops under noble -leaders," said the woodman; "but these bands at Coleshill are mere -mercenaries, gathered together in haste when the report first ran that -the earl of Richmond was coming over hither. Since then, the king -knows not what to do with them; and there they lie, living at free -quarters upon the people. These are men, easily disavowed. But it will -be as I have said; of that be you assured. If the bishop is now within -the abbey, it will go hard but they will seek him there. Then, if the -abbess is wise and follows counsel, she will send him forth to me, and -I will provide for his safety." - -"But where? But how?" demanded Lord Chartley. "This forest is not of -such extent that you could shelter him from any keen pursuit." - -The woodman looked at him with a smile, and then replied: "We do not -trust all its secrets to every one. They are more intricate than you -imagine. There are a thousand places where he might be hid, not to -mention the old castle on the hill. It was a stronghold of the family -of the Morleys, taken and sacked in the civil wars, under the fourth -Harry, and the lands given over to the abbey. There is many a chamber -and many a hall there, which would puzzle the keenest-scented talbot -of all the king's pack, to nose out a fugitive therein. You might -almost as well hunt a rat through the cript of an old church as seek -for any one hiding there. That is one place; but there are a dozen -others; and whither I will take him must be decided at the time. -However, rest you sure that, once out of the abbey walls, and in my -charge, he is safe." - -"We must trust so," replied the young nobleman; "and your goodwill and -intentions, I doubt not; but fate is out of any man's keeping, my good -friend, and indeed we are all in hers. However, we must do as we can, -and leave the rest to God's good will, who shapes all things as seems -fit unto him, and often overrules our wishes and designs for excellent -purposes that we cannot foresee. While you take your supper--a -somewhat poor one for a strong man--I will go out and tell my good -Arab, Ibn Ayoub, that I am safe and well. Otherwise, having marked me -hither, he will stay watching near, till I or the sun come forth." - -"Well bethought," answered the woodman. "'Tis strange how faithful -these heathens sometimes are. Bring him in hither, and let him stable -his horse and yours in the shed behind the cottage. He will find the -way there, round to the left." - - - - -CHAPTER VIII. - - -Let us now return within the abbey walls for a while, and see what was -passing there. The departure of the guests had left behind, at least -with some of the fair inmates, that sensation of vacant dulness, which -usually succeeds a period of unusual gaiety, especially with those -whose ordinary course of life is tranquil if not tedious. - -Iola felt that the convent would seem much more cheerless than before; -and, as she stood with her cousin Constance in the little private -parlour of her aunt, conversing for a few minutes, before they retired -to rest, upon the events of the day, her light heart could not help -pouring forth its sensations, innocent and natural as they were, to -her somewhat graver and more thoughtful cousin. - -"Good lack, dear Constance," she said, "I wish they would not show us -such bright scenes and give us such gay moments, if they are both to -be snatched away again the next minute. How heavy will the next week -be, till we have forgotten all these gay feathers, and silks, and -satins, and gold embroidery, and gentle speeches, and pleasant wit." - -"Nay, I hope, Iola, that you did not have too many gentle speeches," -replied her cousin, with a quiet smile; "for I saw somebody's head -bent low, and caught the sound of words whispered rather than spoken, -and perceived a little pink ear turned up to catch them all." - -"Oh, my man was the most charming ever seen," answered Iola; "just -fitted for my companion in a long ride through the forest, as -thoughtless, as careless, as merry as myself; who will forget me as -soon as I shall forget him, and no harm done to either. What was your -man like, Constance? He seemed as gruff as a large church bell, and as -stern as the statue of Moses breaking the tables." - -"He was well enough for a man," answered Constance. "He might have -been younger, and he might have been gentler in words; for his hair -was grizzled grey, and he abused everybody roundly, from the king on -his throne to the horseboy who saddled his beast. He was a gentleman -notwithstanding, and courteous to me; and I have a strong fancy, dear -Iola, that his heart is not as hard as his words, for I have read in -some old book that hard sayings often go with soft doings." - -"Ha, ha, say you so, Constance dear?" replied Iola; "then methinks you -have been prying a little closely into the bosom of this Sir William -Arden. Well, you are free, and can love where you list. I am like a -poor popinjay tied to a stake, where every boy archer may bend his bow -at me, and I do nothing but sit still and endure. I often wonder what -this Lord Fulmer is like, my husband that is to be, God wot. I hope he -is not a sour man with a black beard, and that he does not squint, and -has not a high shoulder like the king, and has both his eyes of one -colour; for I hate a wall-eyed horse, and it would be worse in a -husband--unless one of them was blind, which would indeed be a -comfort, as one could be sure of getting on the blind side of him." - -"How your little tongue runs," said her cousin. "It is like a lapdog -fresh let out into the fields, galloping hither and thither for pure -idleness." - -"Well, I will be merry whatever happens," answered Iola gaily. "'Tis -the best way of meeting fate, Constance. You may be as grave and -demure as a cat before the fire, or as sad and solemn as the ivy on an -old tower. I will be as light as the lark upon the wing, and as -cheerful as a bough of Christmas holly, garlanding a boar's head on a -high festival; and she sang with a clear sweet voice, every note of -which was full of gladness, some scraps of an old ballad very common -in those days. - - - "Nay, ivy, nay, - It shall not be, I wis; - Let holly have the mastery, - As the custom is. - - "Holly stands in the hall - Fair to behold; - Ivy stands without the door - Shivering with cold. - Nay, ivy, nay, etc. - - "Holly and his merry men - They dance and play; - Ivy and her maidens - Weep a well a day. - Nay, ivy, nay, etc. - - "Holly hath berries - As red as any rose; - The forester and hunter - Keep them for the does. - Nay, ivy, nay, etc. - - "Ivy hath berries - As black as any sloe; - There comes the owl, - With his long whoop of woe. - Nay, ivy, nay, etc." - - -In the meanwhile, the abbess herself had not been without occupation, -for although the night was waning fast, the usual hour of rest long -past, and the nuns in general retired to their cells, yet before she -went to her own snug little room, the worthy lady saw, one after the -other, several of the officers of the abbey in the great parlour. In -dealing with these various personages, the worthy lady, -notwithstanding her little knowledge of the world, showed a good deal -of skill and diplomatic shrewdness. Her situation indeed was somewhat -delicate; for she had to prepare against events, which she could not -clearly explain to those with whom she spoke, and to give orders which -would naturally excite surprise, without such explanation. She had -prepared her story however beforehand; and she proceeded in a -different manner with each of the different officers, as her knowledge -of their several characters pointed out to her the most judicious -course. To the porter of the great hall, a stout old man, who had been -a soldier and had seen service, she said boldly, and at once; "Leave -the lodging in charge of your boy, Giles, and go down directly through -the hamlet, to all the tenants and socmen within a mile. Tell them -there is danger abroad, and that they must be ready, with their arms, -to come up the instant they hear the great bell ring. Bid them send -out some lads to the vassals who live farther off, with the same news. -Then come back hither, for we shall want you." - -The man departed without a word, his answer being merely a low -inclination of the head. The bailiff, who by right should have -presented himself before the porter, but who had been impeded by the -appropriation of sundry good things left from the supper table, -appeared amongst the last. To him the abbess put on a very different -countenance. - -"Well, master bailiff," she said, with a light and cheerful smile, -"have you heard anything of the bands at Coleshill?" - -"Sad work, lady, sad work," replied the bailiff, casting his eyes up -to heaven. "Why I understand that, last night, some of them stole -Joseph Saxton's best cow, and cut it up before his face, hardly taking -the hide off." - -"That shows they were very hungry," said the abbess, laughing. - -"Ay, lady," rejoined the bailiff, "these are not jesting matters, I -can tell you. Why, I should not wonder if they drove some of the abbey -lands before long; and we have not cattle to spare that I know of. -There is no knowing what such hell-kites may do." - -"That's very true," answered the abbess; "and so, my son, I think it -will be better for you to sleep in the lodge for two or three nights; -for we might want you on an occasion." - -"Oh, there is no fear of their coming as far as this," answered the -bailiff, who had no fondness for putting his head into any dangerous -position. - -"Nevertheless, I desire you to remain," answered the abbess; "'tis -well to have somebody to take counsel with in time of need." - -"Why, there is the friar, lady mother," replied the bailiff, still -reluctant, "the friar, whom these young lords who were here left -behind in the stranger's lodging. He would give you counsel and -assistance." - -"Ay, ghostly counsel and spiritual assistance," replied the abbess; -"but that is not what I want just now, good friend; so you will stop -as I said, and remember that I shall expect a bolder face this time, -if anything should happen, than when the rovers were here before. Men -fancied you were afraid.--However, send the friar to me now, if he be -well enough to come. I will see what counsel I can get from him." - -"Well enough!" cried the bailiff. "He is well enough, I -warrant--nothing the matter with him. Why, he was walking up and down -in the great court before the chapel, with his hood thrown back, and -his bald crown glistening in the moonlight, like a coot in a water -meadow." - -Part of this speech was spoken aloud, part of it muttered to himself -as he was quitting the room in a very sullen mood. He did not dare to -disobey the orders he had received, for the good abbess was not one to -suffer her commands to be slighted; and yet women never, or very -rarely, gain the same respect with inferiors that men obtain; and the -bailiff ventured to grumble with her, though he would have bowed down -and obeyed in silence, had his orders come from one of the sterner -sex. - -However that might be, hardly three minutes elapsed before the friar -entered the parlour, and carefully closed the door behind him. His -conference with the abbess was long, continuing nearly an hour, and -the last words spoken were, "Remember rightly, reverend father, the -moment the bell sounds, betake yourself to the chapel, and stand near -the high altar. You can see your way; for there is always a lamp -burning in the chapel of St. Clare. Lock the great door after you; and -I will come to you from our own gallery." - -The bishop bowed his head and departed; and the abbess, weary with the -fatigue and excitement of the day, gladly sought repose. All the -convent was quiet around, and the nuns long gone to rest. Even the -lady's two nieces had some time before closed their eyes in the sweet -and happy slumber of youth. - -Sleep soon visited the pillow of the abbess also; for she never -remembered having sat up so late, except once, when King Edward, the -libidinous predecessor of the reigning monarch, had visited the abbey -during one of his progresses. - -Still and deep was her rest; she knew nothing of the passing hours; -she heard not the clock strike, though the tower on which it stood was -exactly opposite to her cell. She heard not even the baby of St. -Clare, when, a little before two o'clock, it was rung sharply and -repeatedly. A few minutes after, however, there was a knock at the -room door; but, no answer being given, a lay sister entered with a -lamp in her hand, and roused her superior somewhat suddenly. - -"Pardon, lady mother, pardon," she said; "but I am forced to wake you, -for here is Dick the under forester come up to tell you, from Boyd, -the head woodman, that enemies are coming, and that you had better -take counsel upon it immediately. There is no time to be lost, he -says, for they are already past the Redbridge turn, not a mile and a -half off, and, alack and a well-a-day, we are all unprepared!" - -"Not so little prepared as you think, sister Grace," replied the -abbess, rising at once, and hurrying on her gown. "You run to the -porter, and tell him to toll the great bell with all his might, -opening the gate to the men of the hamlet and the tenants, but keeping -fast ward against the rovers. Then away with you, as soon as you have -delivered that message, up to the belfry tower. The moon must be still -up--" - -"She's down, she's down," cried the nun, in great alarm. - -"Then light the beacon," cried the abbess. "That will give light -enough to see when they come near. As soon as you perceive men -marching in a band, like regular soldiers, ring the little bell to -give the porter notice; and, after watching what they do for a minute -or two, come and tell me. Be steady; be careful; and do not let fright -scare away your wits." - -The nun hurried to obey; and in a minute after, the loud and sonorous -alarm bell of the abbey was heard, shaking the air far and wide over -the forest, with its dull and sullen boom. - -Having delivered her message to the porter, the poor nun, with her -lamp in her hand, hurried up the numberless steps of the beacon tower, -trembling in every limb, notwithstanding the courageous tone of her -superior. Upon the thick stone roof at the top she found an immense -pile of faggots, ready laid, and mingled with pitch, and, lying at -some distance, a heap of fresh wood, to be cast on as occasion -required, with a large jar of oil and an iron ladle, to increase the -flame as it rose up. - -Fortunately, the night was as calm as sleep, and not a breath of wind -crossed the heavens; otherwise the lamp would assuredly have been -blown out in the poor sister's trepidation and confusion. As it was, -she had nearly let it fall into the midst of the pile, in the first -attempt to light the beacon; but the next moment the thin dry twigs, -which were placed beneath, caught the fire, crackled, nearly went out -again; and then, with a quantity of dull smoke, the fire rushed up, -licking the thicker wood above. The pitch ignited; the whole pile -caught; and a tall column of flame, some sixteen or seventeen feet -high, rose into the air, and cast a red and ominous light over the -whole country round. The buildings on the little green became -distinctly visible in a moment, the houses of the priests and -choristers, the cottages of the peasants and the labourers; and -running her eye along the valley beyond, in the direction of -Coleshill, the lay sister saw, coming through the low ground, just -under the verge of the wood, a dark mass, apparently of men on -horseback, at the distance of less than half a mile. At the same time, -however, she beheld a sight which gave her better hope. Not only from -the cottages on the green were men issuing forth and hurrying to the -great portal of the abbey, but, along the three roads which she could -espy, she beheld eighteen or twenty figures, some on foot, but some on -horseback, running or galloping at full speed. They were all separate -and detached from each other; but the flame of the beacon flashed upon -steel caps and corslets, and spear heads; and she easily judged that -the tenants and vassals, warned beforehand and alarmed by the sound of -the great bell, were hastening to do the military service they owed. - -When she looked again in the direction of the mass she had seen on the -Coleshill road, she perceived that the head of the troop had halted; -and she judged rightly that, surprised by the sudden lighting of the -beacon and tolling of the bell, the leaders were pausing to consult. - -For a moment, a hope crossed her mind that they would be frightened at -the state of preparation which they found, and desist; but the next -instant the troop began to move on again; and remembering the orders -which she had received, she rang a lesser bell which hung near the -beacon, still keeping her eyes fixed upon the party advancing up the -valley. - -Steadily and cautiously they came on; were lost for a minute or two -behind the houses the hamlet; then reappeared upon the little green; -and, dividing into three troops, the one remained planted before the -great gates, while the others, gliding between the cottages and the -walls of the abbey, filed off to the right and left, with the evident -purpose of surrounding the whole building, and guarding every outlet. -The poor nun, however, fancied, on the contrary, that they were gone -to seek some favourable point of attack; and murmuring to herself, -"The Blessed Virgin have mercy upon us, and all the saints protect us! -There will never be men enough to protect all the walls," she hurried -down to make her report to her superior; but the abbess was not to be -found. - - - - -CHAPTER IX. - - -In a small cell, of size and proportion exactly similar to those of -the nuns, though somewhat differently arranged and decorated, lay a -very beautiful girl sound asleep. A light coif of network confined, or -strove to confine, the rich glossy curling hair; but still a long -ringlet struggled away from those bonds, and fell over a neck as white -as ivory. The eyes, the bright, beautiful, speaking eyes, the soul's -interpreters, were closed, with the long sweeping black eyelashes -resting on the cheek; but still the beautiful and delicate line of the -features, in their quiet loveliness, offered as fair a picture as ever -met mortal sight. Stretched beyond the bedclothes too, was the -delicate hand and rounded arm, with the loop, which fastened the -night-dress round the wrist, undone, and the white sleeve pushed back -nearly to the elbow. One might have sworn it was the hand and arm of -some marvellous statue, had it not been for the rosy tips of the -delicate fingers, and one small blue vein through which the flood of -young and happy life was rushing. - -The dull and heavy tolling of the great bell woke her not, though the -sound evidently reached her ear, and had some indistinct effect upon -her mind, for the full rosy lips of her small mouth parted, showing -the pearly teeth beneath; and some murmuring sounds were heard, of -which the only word distinguishable was "matins." - -The next instant, however, her slumber was broken, for the abbess -stood beside her with a lamp in her hand, and shook her shoulder, -saying "Iola, Iola!" - -The fair girl started up and gazed in her aunt's face bewildered; and -then she heard the sullen tolling of the great bell, and various other -sounds which told her that some unusual events were taking place. - -"Quick, Iola," cried the abbess, "rise and dress yourself. I have a -task for you to perform in haste, my child.--There, no care for your -toilette. Leave your hair in the net. Lose not a moment; for this is a -matter of life and death." - -"What it is, my dear lady mother?" asked Iola, trying to gather her -senses together. - -"It is to convey one, whom his persecutors have followed even hither, -to a place of safety," replied the abbess. "Listen, my child, and -reply not. The friar you saw this night is a high and holy man, -unjustly persecuted by an usurping king. That he has taken refuge here -has been discovered. The abbey is menaced by a power we cannot resist. -It would be searched, the sanctuary violated, and the good man torn -from the altar, to imprisonment, or perhaps death, had I not the means -of conveying him beyond the walls--ay, and beyond the reach of danger. -You must be his guide, Iola, for I must not reveal the secret to any -of the sisters; and if Constance is to take the veil, as has been -proposed, she must not know it either." - -"Constance will not take the veil, dear aunt," replied Iola quietly; -"but I am quite ready to do whatever you will, and to help to the -utmost of my power. But cannot the good man find the way himself if he -be told, for I am as ignorant of it as he is?" - -"He could find his way through the passage," replied the abbess, -"easily enough, but not through the wood when he issues forth." - -"Oh, I can guide him there, as well as Boyd's great hound Ban," -answered the gay girl, "but where am I to take him, dear aunt?" - -"First to the cell of St. Magdalen," answered the elder lady, "and -thence by the wood walks to Boyd's cottage. If you push the door that -closes the end of the passage strongly, you will find that it opens -one of the panels at the back of the shrine. Mind you leave it ajar, -however, till you come back; for, once closed, you will not be able to -open it from that side. Then keep down the wood-road to the east, and -most likely you will meet Boyd; for he will be watching. If not, go -straight on to his house, and then return at once. I will let you into -the chapel as soon as the men are gone.--Now, child, are you ready?" - -"One moment, dear aunt, one moment," answered Iola. "Where is my -hood?--I cannot clasp this gorget." - -"Let me try," cried the abbess; but her trembling hands would not -perform the work; and at last Iola succeeded herself. - -"There is your hood, child," cried her aunt. "Now come--come quick. We -shall have them at the gates before you are gone." - -Hurrying along as fast as possible, she led her fair niece through -several of the long vaulted passages of the abbey, and thence, by her -own private entrance, into the chapel. The door leading to the nuns' -gallery was locked; but one of the keys at the abbess's girdle soon -opened it; and, advancing to the grated screen, she looked down into -the choir before she ventured to descend. - -All was still and quiet. The glimmering light from the shrine of St. -Clare afforded a view up and down the church, and no human form was to -be seen. Neither was any sound heard, except the swinging of the great -bell, as it continued to pour forth its loud vibrating call for -assistance over the whole country round. Through the richly ornamented -windows, however, came flitting gleams of many-coloured light, as -lanterns and torches were carried across the court, between the chapel -and the portal; and once or twice the sounds of voices were heard; but -the abbess distinguished the tongue of the porter, speaking with the -peasants as they hurried in. - -"I cannot see him," whispered the abbess, after looking down for a -moment or two into the body of the church. "There can be surely no -mistake." - -Iola took a step forward, and put her face to the grate. "He may be -behind that pillar," she said. "Yes, don't you see, dear aunt? The -light from the shrine casts the shadow of something like a man upon -the pavement?" - -"Let us go down, let us go down," answered the abbess. "If he be not -there, nobody else is, so we need not be afraid;" and, opening the -door, leading to the lower part of the chapel, she descended the -spiral staircase which was concealed in one of the large columns that -supported both the roof of the building, and the gallery in which they -had been standing. The light foot of Iola made little sound upon the -pavement of the nave, as they proceeded towards the high altar; but -the less elastic tread of the abbess in her flat-soled sandal soon -called from behind the pillar a figure in a friar's gown and cowl. - -In a calm and not ungraceful attitude, the old man waited for their -coming; and when the light of the abbess's lamp shone upon his face, -it displayed no signs of fear or agitation. "I have locked the door, -sister," he said, "as you desired me; but I almost feared I had made -some mistake, when I found you did not come; for I have been here from -the moment the bell began to toll." - -"I had to wake my niece to guide you, reverend and dear lord," replied -the abbess; "but now let us hasten; for no time is to be lost. I am -terrified for your safety. To stay were ruin, and there is even peril -in flight." - -"There was as much in the flight from Brecknock," answered the bishop -calmly; "but I am ready, my sister; lead the way.--And so you are to -be my guide, my fair child?" he continued, as they followed the -abbess. "Are you not frightened?" - -"No, father," answered Iola quietly. "God will, I trust, protect me; -and I think there is more danger here than in the forest." - -By this time they had passed round the great altar, and through a door -in the screen, which separated the choir from the lady chapel behind. -Immediately facing them was a large sort of flat pilaster, covered -half way up, as was all that part of the building, with old oak -panelling, in many places ornamented with rude sculptures. By a very -simple contrivance the panelling, with which the pilaster was covered, -was made to revolve upon hinges, concealed in the angle, where it -joined the wall. The abbess found some difficulty indeed, amongst all -the heads of dragons, and monkeys, and cherubim, and devils, with -which the woodwork was richly but grotesquely ornamented, to discover -that which served as a sort of handle. When she had found it, however, -the whole of the lower part of the panelling moved back easily enough, -and a door was seen behind on the face of the pilaster. It was low and -narrow, suffering only one person to pass at once, and that with a -bowed head. It was locked also at the moment; but the abbess took the -key from her girdle, and the bishop opened the door easily with his -own hands. - -"And now, father, God speed you on your way," cried the abbess, "for I -must go no further. There is the beacon bell ringing, which shows that -these knaves are in sight. Here, take the lamp with you, Iola. The -passage is long and dark." - -"Heaven's benison be upon you, sister," said the bishop, "and may God -protect you from all evil consequences of your Christian charity -towards me. Well have you repaid the little kindness I once showed -your brother in times long past, and leave me a debt of gratitude -besides." - -"Nay, nay, I beseech you be quick, dear lord," said the lady; and, -passing through the doorway, the prelate and his fair guide found -themselves in a small vaulted chamber, with the end of a long dark -passage open before them. As soon as they had entered, the door was -closed, and they could hear the screen of panelling which covered it -roll back into its place. Iola led the way on through the passage -before them; and the bishop, after gazing round the vaulted room for -an instant, followed with a slower step and in silence. At the end of -some fifteen or sixteen yards, a small descending flight of stairs -presented itself; and Iola ran lightly down, holding the lamp at the -bottom, till the bishop descended. He gazed on her beautiful face and -figure with a fatherly smile, as, lifting the lamp above her head, she -stood with the light falling on her fair forehead and graceful limbs. - -"And so thy name is Iola, my fair daughter," said the bishop, when he -reached her side; "and thou art the niece of our good sister the -abbess. Which of her brothers is thy father?" - -"She has but one still living, my lord," replied Iola. "My father is -no more." - -"Then you must be the daughter of Richard St. Leger Lord Calverly," -said the bishop; "I knew him well." - -"The same, my lord," replied Iola; "and methinks I have heard that -your lordship once saved his life. If I understood my aunt's words -rightly but now, and you are the Lord Bishop of Ely, I have heard my -uncle, the present Lord Calverly, say that the bishop of Ely had saved -his brother's life, what time the red rose was broken from the stalk." - -"I was not the Bishop of Ely then, daughter, but merely Robert -Morton," replied the prelate; "one of King Edward's privy council, but -one who took no share in policy or party strife, and only strove to -mitigate the bloody rigour of a civil war, by touching men's hearts -with mercy, when the moment served. The time will come, perhaps, when -men will marvel that I, who faithfully once served King Henry, should -serve, when he was dead, as faithfully his great opponent; but I had -pondered well the course before me, and feel my conscience clear. I -asked myself how I might do most good to men of every faction and to -my country; and I can boldly say, my child, that I have saved more -subjects for the crown of England--good honest men too, misled by -party zeal--by interposing to stay the lifted hand of vengeance, than -were slain by any of the mighty nobles who took part with either side -in these horrible wars. I never changed my faction, daughter, for I -never had one. And now the hatred of the reigning king has pursued me, -because he knew right well that I would raise my voice against the -wrong he did his brother's children." - -To a mind well versed in the world's affairs, the fact of the good -bishop entering into such apologetical explanations, at such a moment, -and with such a companion, would have been sufficient to show that he -did not feel quite sure his conduct was without reproach; for we -always put our armour where we know we are weak. But Iola was too -young and simple to suspect or to doubt; and she only looked upon him -as the good and kind prelate, who, in times of intestine strife, had -interposed to save her father's life. Joyful then at the task imposed -upon her, she walked onward by his side; and the conversation, thus -begun, proceeded in a somewhat lighter tone. The bishop asked her of -her state, her future, her hopes, her wishes, and seemed to forget his -own perilous situation in speaking and thinking of her. He was indeed -a very fearless man, not with the rash, bold, enterprising courage of -some, but with that calm tranquil abiding of results which can never -exist without high hope and confidence in God. He had his faults, as -all men have; but still he had many virtues, and, in an age when few -were religious, felt the truths of Christianity, and knew religion to -consist in something more than forms. - -Once their conversation was interrupted by the sound of horses' feet, -beating the ground immediately above them; and Iola started and looked -up with an expression of fear. - -"They will not break through, my child," said the prelate, with a -smile, lifting his eyes to the solid masonry above. "That arch is -thick and strong, depend upon it; but I suppose, by those sounds, we -are already beyond the abbey walls?" - -"I do not know," answered Iola, "for I have never been here before; -but the lady abbess tells me, this passage will lead us out into St. -Magdalen's cell, and thence I know the way well. - -"How far is it?" asked the bishop. - -"Oh, a long way," answered the fair girl, by his side, "nearly a -mile." - -She thought only of its distance by the ordinary path, which, as I -have before said, took various turnings to avoid the ravine and the -rivulet; but the passage that they were now pursuing, sunk by the -steps which they had descended to a level below all such obstacles, -abridged the distance by nearly one half. It is true that the bottom -of the bed of the rivulet itself was somewhat lower than the top of -the arched vault; but nevertheless the latter had been carried -straight on and cemented, so as to be impervious to the water, while -broken rocks and stones had been piled up above, concealing the -masonry, and forming a little cascade in the stream. Thus, when they -reached that spot, the rush and murmur of the waterfall was heard, -and, turning her bright eyes to the prelate's face, Iola said: - -"We must be passing under the river, I think." - -"It is not unlikely, daughter," replied the bishop. "In other lands, -which you most likely have never seen, I have beheld vast structures -for carrying rivers from hill to hill, raised on high arches, -underneath which the busy world of men passed to and fro, while the -stream flowed overhead." - -"I have heard of such things," replied Iola; "and oh, how I long to -see those lands and to dream of all that mighty men have done in -former days. How strange it is that such arts have not come down to -us. Here we see nothing between the huge castle with its frowning -towers, or the lordly church with its spires and pinnacles, and the -wood cottage of the peasant, or the humble abode of the franklin." - -"The bishop smiled at her. - -"You have been but little in cities, my child," he said; "but your -observation is just. It is strange that the arts of other ages have -not descended to us; for one would suppose, if anything on earth could -be permanent, it would be that knowledge and that skill which tend to -the elevation, the protection, and the comfort of the human race, -especially when the wonders they have performed, and the monuments -they have raised, are still before our eyes, although in ruins. But -birth, life, death, and corruption are the fate of nations, as well as -of men, of systems as well as creatures, of the offsprings of the -human mind as well as of the inheritors of the corporeal frame. As in -the successions of the human race, however, we see the numbers of the -population still increasing, notwithstanding periods of devastation -and destruction; as those who are born and die give birth to more than -their own decease subtracts, so probably the loss of the arts, the -sciences, even the energies which one nation or one epocha has -produced, is succeeded by the production of arts, sciences, energies, -more numerous, if not more vigorous, in the nation or epocha which -follows. But these have again their childhood, their maturity, their -decay; and society with us, my daughter, is perhaps still in its -infancy--I believe indeed it is." - -Iola gazed at him surprised, and somewhat bewildered, for he had led -her mind beyond its depth; and the good prelate read the expression -aright, and replied to it-- - -"You are surprised at such reasonings," he said, "because you are not -accustomed to them; but I believe those people above would be more -surprised, if they knew that, at the very moment they are seeking me -to destroy me, I am walking along calmly beneath their feet, talking -philosophy with a fair young creature like yourself." - -He spoke with a smile, and then cast down his eyes in a musing mood, -but, still that high intelligent smile remained upon his lips, as if -he found some amusement in watching the working of his own mind, -amidst the strange circumstances with which fate surrounded him. - -The moment after, the passage began to ascend, not exactly by steps, -though the broad flat stones with which it was paved rose a little, -one above the edge of the other, rendering the path somewhat rough and -difficult. This lasted not long, however, and the bishop, raising his -eyes, observed-- - -"There seems a door before us. Have you got the key?" - -"It will open, on being pressed hard," replied Iola; "but I cannot -think we have reached the cell yet. The way has seemed so short." - -So it proved however; and approaching the door, she attempted to push -it open, but it resisted her efforts. The bishop however aided; the -door moved back; and, holding it open, he desired Iola to pass through -into the cell which was now before them. It was a low vaulted Gothic -chamber, opening on the side of the hill, by an arch with an iron -grate, and having on one side a shrine and little altar. The bishop -followed his fair guide into this small chapel; but Iola herself had -forgotten her aunt's injunction regarding the door. The bishop let it -slip from his hand, as he passed through; and it closed at once, -leaving no trace of its existence in the old woodwork of the walls. -Had Iola recollected the difficulty she might have in returning, she -would certainly have been alarmed; and the sudden close of the door -would probably have brought her aunt's warning to her remembrance, had -not a sight been presented to her, immediately on entering the chapel, -which at once occupied all her attention. Through the low archway -which I mentioned appeared the walls and towers of the abbey, lighted -up by the flame of the beacon, and by a blaze, red and smoky as if -proceeding from torches both in the great courtyard between the chapel -and the portal, and on the little green before the great gates. The -green itself, was partly hidden by the priest's house and the -cottages; but under the walls, to the north and west of the building, -were seen several groups of men on horseback; and the sounds of loud -voices speaking, and of men calling to one another, were borne to the -ear distinctly, for the great bell by this time had ceased to toll, -and there was no other sound to interrupt the murmur of the voices -from the abbey. - -By a natural impulse, Iola clasped her fair hands together, and -uttered a low exclamation of fear; but the bishop gazed calmly forth -for a moment, and then said-- - -"We had better hasten on our way, my child. Extinguish the lamp--Here, -set it down here. We must not show ourselves more than we we can help, -lest any eye should be turned this way." - -"We must pass through the grate," said Iola, recalled to herself by -the prelate's words; "for there is no other way out; but if we run -quickly round to the back of the building, no one will see us." - -"Let us go one at a time," said the bishop. "It is well to take every -precaution, though I do not think the light is sufficiently strong to -show us to those on the opposite side of the valley." - -"Turn sharp to the right," said Iola, opening the iron grate, for the -prelate to pass through; and, as soon as he was gone, she followed and -rejoined him at the back of the building. "Now this way, this way," -she continued hastily, anxious to lead him away from dangers, the -imminence of which seemed now for the first time to strike her; and -guiding him along one of the forest paths, she hurried on with a quick -step, saying with one of her gay short laughs: - -"They would not easily find us here. I could lead them through such a -labyrinth that they would not know which way to turn to get out." - -"You seem to know the forest well, daughter," said the bishop, in a -good-humoured tone. "I fear me you have been fonder of rambling in the -woods than conning dry lessons in the abbey of St. Clare." - -He spoke in a gay and kindly manner, which conveyed no reproof; but -Iola blushed a little while she answered-- - -"Surely! My dear aunt has not been very severe with me; and every day, -when the sun was bright and the skies blue, I have gone out--sometimes -with my girl Alice, sometimes alone, sometimes on foot, sometimes on a -mule, sometimes to bear a message to woodman or tenant, sometimes for -pure idleness. And yet not pure idleness either, my lord; for I do not -know why, but amidst these old trees and upon the top of the hill, -where I catch a view of all the woods and fields and rivers below, -bright and beautiful and soft, it seems as if my heart rose up to -Heaven more lightly than under the vault of the chapel and amongst its -tall columns of stone. Then sometimes I sit beneath a spreading oak, -and look at its giant limbs, and compare them with the wild anemone -that grows at its foot, and lose myself in musing over the everlasting -variety that I see. But hark! those voices are very loud. They cannot -be coming nearer, surely." - -"You are brave at a distance, daughter," said the bishop calmly; "but -be not alarmed. They are only raised a little higher." - -"Oh, no," she answered; "I am no coward; and you would see, if they -did come near, I should not lose my wits." - -Almost as she spoke, a voice exclaimed, in a one not very loud-- - -"Who goes there?" and Iola started, and laid her hand on the bishop's -arm, as if to keep him back. - -"It is Boyd the woodman's voice, I think," she said in a whisper. -"Slip in behind that great tree, and I will go on and see." - -"Who goes there?" repeated the voice again raised higher; and Iola, -taking a step or two forward, demanded-- - -"Who is it that asks?" - -"Is that you, Lady Iola?" said the voice, as soon as the woman's tone -was distinguished. - -"Yes," answered Iola. "Is it Boyd who speaks?" - -"The same," answered the woodman. "Have you brought him? Where is he? -Is he safe?" - -"He is here, he is here," answered Iola. "Father, this is Boyd the -woodman, in whom you can fully trust." - -"Ah, lady, lady," murmured the woodman, coming forward, "where is the -man in whom you can fully trust?" - -Advancing towards him, Iola and the prelate found that he had been -standing in a small open space at the angle of two roads, both of -which led more or less directly to St. Magdalen's cell. The light on -the spot was faint, but the woodman's tall and powerful figure was not -to be mistaken; and, having resigned her charge to him, Iola turned to -the prelate, saying, - -"Now I will go back as fast as possible, father." - -"Stay a moment, my child," replied the bishop. "May the Almighty bless -and protect you, and guide you in safety unto all peace;" and he laid -his hand tenderly on her head. - -"Do not go in rashly, lady," said the woodman, "but stay in the little -vaulted chamber at the end of the passage, till you hear matins sung -in the chapel. The place will not be free of these rovers till then. -If you hear not matins or prime, you may suppose that they still keep -possession. In that case, you had better come away to me, dear -lady--you know that I will take care of you." - -"Oh, I know that well, Boyd," replied Iola. "Good night, good -night--see to this reverend father's safety before all things." - -"Ay, that will take two good hours at least," said the woodman, "or I -would go back with you myself, dear lady; but I think you are safe -enough alone." - -"I have no fear," answered Iola; and she tripped lightly away, -retreading the path back towards the cell. - -That path led along the rising ground just at the verge of the forest, -where the trees were thin and the undergrowth scanty, so that the -sounds from the abbey continued to reach the fair girl's ears as she -pursued it. She thought she heard the sound of horses' feet somewhat -nearer, also, as if coming from the road that led up through the -forest. At the same time it seemed to her that a redder glare, and a -broader light spread over the sky, reflected thence upon the little -footway which she trod. "They must have piled more wood upon the -beacon," she thought; but yet she felt some degree of alarm. - -Hurrying on, she at length reached the spot where the path passed at -the back of the cell, and turning quickly round the little building, -the abbey, with the slight rise on which it stood, was once more -before her sight. What was her terror and surprise at that moment, -when she saw the beacon light extinguished, but a still wider and more -fearful glare rising up from the little green, the houses surrounding -which were all in flames. Several of the wooden cottages were already -down, the still burning beams and rafters lying in piles upon the -ground, like huge bonfires casting up a cloud of sparks into the -flickering fiery air above; and across the glare might now be seen a -number of dark figures moving about upon the green, some on horseback, -some on foot. From the house of the priests and choristers was rising -up a tall spire of flame, sometimes clear and bright, sometimes -obscured by a cloud of smoke and sparks; but the abbey itself was -still unfired, and stood out dark and solemn in the midst of the -blaze, with the light gleaming here and there upon the walls and -pinnacles. - -The first sight startled and horrified her; but she did not pause to -gaze at it, till she had entered the chapel and closed the iron gate, -as if for protection; but then she stood and watched the flames for a -moment or two, and at length asked herself what she should do. - -"I will go back," she answered, after a moment's thought. "I will not -be absent from my poor aunt's side at such a moment;" and she turned -to seek the door into the passage. Then, for the first time, she -perceived that it was closed, and recollected the warning of the -abbess to leave it ajar. She now felt really terrified; and that need -of protection and help, that want of something to lean upon and to -trust in, which most women experience in the hour of danger, made -itself terribly felt. - -"What will become of me? Where shall I go? What shall I do?" she -murmured anxiously; and then, again and again, cast a timid glance at -the burning buildings on the opposite side of the dell. "I will go to -Boyd's house," she said at length. "I can find protection there." - -But suddenly she remembered what he had said, in regard to the time he -should be occupied in providing for the safety of the bishop; but her -determination was at length expressed--"I shall be more safe there -than here at all events. I will go;" and, without further hesitation, -she crept back into the path again. - -Iola now knew for the first time in life, perhaps, what it is to fear, -and how the imagination is excited by apprehension. The sight of the -burning buildings had shaken her nerves. She crept along as stealthily -as if she feared that every tree was an enemy. She thought she heard -sounds too, near at hand as she went on, and then tried to persuade -herself that it was but the waving of the trees in the wind. Then she -felt sure that somebody must be near; she quickened her pace to reach -a path which turned suddenly to the right; but at the very entrance, -when she reached it, there was standing a figure, the form of which -she could not distinctly see; but it seemed tall and thin, and -garmented all in white, according to the popular idea of a phantom. -She recoiled in terror, and would have fled back again; but there -directly in her way was another figure; and a voice exclaimed, as she -was turning once more to fly-- - -"Lady, lady, whither away? Stay yet a moment--stay, it is a friend." - -She thought she knew the tones; but, as the stranger approached, she -receded, asking-- - -"Who is it? Who is it?" - -"It is Lord Chartley," he said. "Stay, stay! You are running upon -danger." - -The last words were needless; for, before they were fully uttered, -Iola had not only stopped but sprung forward to meet him. - - - - -CHAPTER X. - - -Human fate, or rather the fate of the whole human race, is but as a -web of cloth fixed in the frame of circumstances, with an unseen hand -continually throwing the shuttle. The threads may be infinite, and -some far apart from others; some in the centre, some at the selvage, -but all tied and bound together by filaments that run across and -across, and never ceasing till the piece is finished. When will that -be? Heaven only knows. Certainly not till the end of the world. - -We must now, by the reader's permission, leave the thread of Iola, and -take up that of the abbess where we last left it. - -As soon as she had closed the door and pushed to the panelling which -concealed it, the abbess reascended to the nun's gallery in the -chapel, and thence proceeded into the great body of the building. She -found, as may be supposed, the utmost confusion and alarm prevailing; -for by this time the noise of the great bell, and of the various -sounds that were rising up around the walls, had roused all the nuns -from their pallets, and, with consternation in their countenances, -they were hurrying hither and thither, seeking something, and not -knowing very well what they sought. Although a good deal alarmed -herself, and unable to foresee what might be the end of all that was -taking place, the abbess, whose heart was naturally merry, could -almost have laughed at the grotesque accidents which fear produced; -but, having more mind and character than the whole convent put -together, she at once proceeded to restore order. - -"Go at once to the chapel," she said to every nun she saw; "gather all -the sisterhood there, and see that none be omitted. I will join you -soon." - -This order had to be repeated frequently; for at every step she met -some one, and several required it to be reiterated two or three times, -before terror would suffer them to comprehend it. - -At length, passing round the end of the chapel, the abbess entered the -great court, and found to her joy and satisfaction a much greater body -of men drawn up for her defence than she expected; for the woodman had -not been idle during the morning, and many more of the peasantry had -been warned to listen for the sound of the bell than the voice of the -porter could summon. Four of the inferior foresters also had somehow -found their way into the building, dressed in leathern coats and iron -caps, and each carried on his shoulder a sort of weapon, which none -within the walls had ever seen before. This was a sort of small -cannon, fastened upon a rudely constructed stock, and fitted to carry -a ball of the weight of two or three ounces. There was no lock, nor -any contrivance even for applying fire to the touch-hole by one -movement; but round the arm of the bearer was twined a coil of match, -which one of the men was as at that moment lighting at the porter's -lantern.[1] - - ---------------- - -[Footnote 1: The first mention that I find of the real arquibuse, or -match lock, is in an account of the household of the Duke of Burgundy -in 1474; but small cannons, called in France coulverines á la main, -were used long before. They are represented in the old miniatures, as -resting on the shoulder of one soldier, while another takes the aim -from behind, and the first applies the match at the word of command.] - ---------------- - - -"What is that? What is that?" cried the abbess; "it looks like a -little falconet." - -"It is a hand-gun, lady," said the forester. "Some of our people -brought them from Burgundy; and Boyd sent in these four. When it is -time to use them, we hoist them over our shoulders; and, while the men -behind take aim, we fire." - -The abbess mused, for the invention was quite new to her; and, -strangely clumsy as it was, it seemed to her a wonderful discovery in -the art of war. She even grew very valiant on the strength of it, and -called aloud for the bailiff, to consult with him upon the means of -defence. The bailiff could not be found, however; and the porter -informed her, with a grin, that he had gone to the buttery, thinking -that there must be the principal point of attack. - -"Bring him hither directly," said the abbess; "bring him by the ears, -if he will not otherwise come. In the mean time how many men have we -here?" - -"Three and thirty, my lady," replied the old porter, while one or two -ran away to bring the bailiff; "three and thirty, besides the gun-men. -I think we can make good the place till morning; and then we shall -have the whole country up to help us. But if you would take my advice, -you would lock that bailiff up in a cell. He cools men's hearts with -his cowardice. I wish he were half as brave as you, my lady." - -"Well then you must command, porter," said the abbess. "Let some of -the men take their bows and cross-bows up to the top of the portal, -while others keep watch upon the walls all round, that they may not -raise ladders without our knowing it. Let the four men with the -hand-cannons draw up across the chapel door for the present. They can -there very well fire upon the gates, if the enemy should break them -down." - -The porter was venturing to remonstrate, pointing out that the gun-men -would be better on the walls, when the unfortunate bailiff was dragged -into the abbess's presence, with a face so pale and eyes so haggard, -that his very look convicted him. He smelt strongly of wine too, so -that it was clear he had been seeking to gain courage from other -sources than his own heart. - -"Coward!" cried the abbess, as soon as she saw him, "are you not -ashamed to see women set you an example in defending the rights of the -church, while you are slinking away from your duty? Take him hence," -she continued, as he attempted to stutter forth some vain excuses. -"Take him hence at once, and lock him up in the first cell on the -left hand. Away with him, for fear his cowardice should become -infectious!--Hark! They are upon the green. There is a trumpet. I will -go up to the window above the gates, and speak with them. Let not the -men shoot till I give the word." - -Two or three of the people round besought her to forbear, especially -the priest and the principal chorister; but the abbess not only -persisted in her resolution, but besought them to accompany her, in a -tone which did not admit of refusal; and, walking on with an air of -more dignity than one would have supposed her little plump figure -could display, she ascended the stairs in the left hand tower of the -portal, and presented herself at the grated window just above the -gates. The part of the green nearest to the abbey was now covered with -armed men, principally on horseback, though some had dismounted and -were approaching the gates. A group of six or seven, who were -apparently leaders, were seen at a little distance on the left, and -one of them was at that moment raising his voice to an armed peasant -who had appeared upon the walls. The abbess, however, cut short this -oratory in the commencement, by demanding, in that shrill high key -which makes itself heard so much farther than even a louder voice at a -lower note: "What want ye here, my masters? How come you here in arms -before the abbey of St. Clare? Bid those men keep back from the gates! -Else I will instantly bid the soldiers shoot and the cannon fire." - -"Cannons!" cried one of the leaders with a laugh. "By my fay, the -place seems a fortress instead of an abbey." - -"You will find it so to your cost, uncivil churl, if you attempt to -plunder here," cried the abbess. "Bid them keep back, I say, or bide -the consequence!" - -"Halt, there, keep back!" cried the leader who had before spoken; and -pushing his own horse under the window where the abbess stood, he -looked up, saying, "They were but going to ring the bell. Are you the -lady abbess?" - -"What need of six men to ring the bell?" exclaimed the abbess. "If you -need so many hands to do small work, you will require more than you -have brought here to get the gates open. I am the lady abbess, and I -bid you go hence and leave me and my children at peace, upon pain of -anathema, and the greater and the lesser excommunication. I know not -whether ye be the same who came to plunder us some time ago; but, if -ye be, ye will find us better prepared now than we were then, though -it cost you dear, even at that time." - -"Listen, listen, good lady," said the horseman; "for, if you do not -hear, you cannot understand, and a woman's tongue is sometimes worse -than a cannon." - -"You will find the thunder of the church worse still," cried the lady. - -"Of that we are not afraid," answered the other; "for we come not to -plunder, or commit any act of violence, unless we are driven to it." - -"Pardieu, this is all chattering and nonsense," cried another man, who -had ridden up from behind. "Break open the gates, Sir John. If you do -not, I will; for they will convey the man away, and by Heaven, if they -do, I will burn the place about their ears!" - -"Peace, peace!" cried the other. "They cannot convey him away. Our men -are all round the walls. Listen to me for a moment, lady. We have -certain information that a man took refuge here last night, disguised -as a friar. Him we must have forth; and if you will bring him out and -give him up, we will ride away quietly and leave you. If not, we must -find our way in and take him. We should be sorry to hurt any of your -people, or to do any damage; but, when a place is forced, you know, -soldiers are under no command, and the consequence be upon your own -head. We must have him out." - -"Do you not know that this is sanctuary," cried the abbess, "and, even -if he had committed parricide or treason, any man would be safe within -these walls." - -"Ay, but he has not committed any offence which makes sanctuary -available," replied the other. "This is a deserter from his right -standard, and we will have him forth, sanctuary or no sanctuary." - -"There is no such man within the walls of St. Clare," replied the -abbess. "I only stand up for the privileges of the place, because they -are its privileges; but at the same time, I tell you that there is no -sanctuary man here, of any kind or description whatever." - -"Hell and damnation!" exclaimed the more vehement of the leaders. -"Will you pretend to tell me that a man did not come here this very -evening, habited as a friar, who never went forth again with those who -brought him? On upon the gates there. This is all jugglery!" - -"Hold yet a moment, ere it comes to strife," exclaimed the abbess; and -the other leader also exclaimed: - -"Hold, hold there! What would you say, lady? for we cannot be dallied -with." - -"I say," replied the abbess, "that the damnation you evoke will some -day fall upon your own heads, if you pursue this course. Moreover, I -tell you, that there is no such man here, nor any man at all, but the -tenants and officers of the abbey. A friar certainly did come here -this evening, with a goodly company of guests. He did not depart with -them; but he went away afterwards, and is no longer here--hear me out! -To save bloodshed, I will give you the means of satisfying yourselves, -protesting, at the same time, against the act you commit, and clearly -reserving my right to punish you for it, at an after time, when you -shall not plead my permission as an excuse." - -"We will look to that," cried one of the others boldly. "Open your -gates. We shall not want excuses for anything we do." - -"Nay!" answered the abbess. "I open not my gates to all your lewd -band. Any six may enter, if they will, and search every corner of the -abbey, from one end to the other. You will then soon see, that I have -means of defence if I choose to exert them. If you accept the terms, -bid all the rest of the men retire to the other side of the green. If -not, I will tell the cross-bow men and cannoniers to fire." - -"We must have ten with us, otherwise we shall never get through the -search," said the leader, who had first spoken. - -"Well, ten be it then," said the abbess. "We shall only have more in -our hands to hang, if those without attempt to play us any treachery." - -"You are merry, lady," said the leader. "Is it so agreed?" - -"Yes!" replied the abbess; "bid your men back, quite to the other -side. Then let ten advance, and I will come down and order them to be -admitted." - -She waited till she had seen the retreat of the band, to the far part -of the green; and then descending, she gave her orders with great -clearness and rapidity, directing such arrangements to be made as -would display her little force to the greatest advantage, and ordering -her porter as the commander-in-chief, to send two or three stout men -with each party of the searchers, keeping a wary eye at the same time -upon the band without, to insure they did not approach nearer to the -gates. - -She then retired into the chapel, where she found the nuns all -gathered round the great altar, like a swarm of bees. Having quieted -and re-assured them, as well as she could, she betook herself to the -window, which gave light to the gallery appropriated to the -sisterhood, and, opening the lattice, looked out into the court. By -this time, the ten men to whom she had promised admittance were -entering, one by one, through the wicket; and she flattered herself -that their faces, seen by the light of the torches, showed some -surprise at the numbers collected for the defence of the place. The -first part of the building, however, which they chose to search, was -the chapel, and hurrying down, she met them at the great altar in the -midst of her nuns. No incivility was committed; for the men without, -with their loaded hand-guns, and some fifteen or sixteen others, with -steel cross-bows in their hands, had imposed a salutary reverence upon -the intruders. The chapel, however, was searched in every part; and -when this was done, the soldiers gone, and the door once more locked, -the abbess again resumed her station at the window, with a heart -which, notwithstanding her bold exterior, beat somewhat anxiously for -the departure of the band. - -She saw the buildings on either side of the court examined thoroughly; -and then, dividing into three parties, the searchers proceeded on -their way, disappearing from her sight. She listened for their voices -as they went, and could trace them part of the way round the great -quadrangle; but then all was silent again, and she judged that they -had gone to the most remote parts of the building--perhaps even to the -gardens--to sweep it all the way up, in order to prevent the -possibility of a fugitive escaping. - -All was silent for a few minutes, except the low murmurs of the -abbey-men speaking in the court below; but then came some sounds which -startled and alarmed the abbess; for, after a crash, as of a door -forced open, she could distinctly hear a shout of "Here he is, here he -is! We've got him." - -A loud murmuring of many tongues succeeded; and in a state of -trembling anxiety, she waited for the result, till, to her great -relief and even amusement, she beheld the whole party of ten -re-appear, dragging along her cowardly bailiff in the midst of them, -while several of the retainers of the abbey followed with a look of -malicious fun upon their faces. - -"Upon my life! upon my soul! by all the blessed saints, I tell you -true," cried the unhappy bailiff. "Here, Giles, porter, tell them who -I am, man--He can tell you--he can tell you." - -"Faith, you are mistaken there, if you call me porter," said the man -he addressed. "I know nothing about you. You are mistaken in me, good -sir. I am the bailiff of the abbey." - -"There, there," said one of the leaders of the soldiery. "It is all in -vain, my good lord, so come along--there, take him out." - -The abbess could not refrain from laughing, although she felt a strong -inclination to interfere, and claim the poor bailiff as the especial -property of the convent. Before she could make up her mind, however, -the man was past the gates; but still, while one party of the -searchers remained in the court, another turned back and pursued the -examination, till not a hole or corner of the abbey was left -unexplored. - -In the meanwhile, however, a great deal of loud cursing and swearing -was heard from the green; words of command were given, orders shouted -forth; and at length, the porter hurriedly closed the wicket, -exclaiming-- - -"Up to the walls! Bend your cross-bows! What are they about now?--You -gunners, stand here below!--You pass not, sir, you pass not, till we -know what all this is," he continued, addressing the leader who had -first spoken to the abbess, and who, with three companions, now -hurried into the court from the more secluded part of the building. - -"I know not what it is any more than you do, my good man," replied the -other; "but if you let me out, I will soon see." - -"They are coming forward towards the gates, sir!" exclaimed the -porter. "Shoot at them if they come too close, my men!--You are a -knight, sir, it seems; and we will keep you as a hostage for the -safety of the abbey." - -"Nay, I cannot be answerable for that unless you let me forth," -replied the other; "but if you do, I pledge my knightly word, as a -gentleman and a Christian, that all the troops shall be drawn off, and -the abbey left unmolested." - -He spoke eagerly and hastily, evidently under some alarm but the old -porter was not satisfied, and he replied-- - -"Here, put it down and your name to it. Here are pen and ink, and the -visitor's book in the lodge." The officer hurried in, and did as was -required at once; for the four unpleasant-looking hand culverins were -pointed at him and his companions, and a lighted match in each man's -hand ready to discharge them. "There it is," he said, when he had -written, "Now let me pass." - -The porter looked over the writing. Whether he could read or not, I -cannot tell; but when he had satisfied himself as far as he was able, -he cautiously opened the wicket, and let the intruders pass out one by -one. - -The commander led the way, hurrying on with a quick step; and he -certainly did not arrive as soon as he could have wished. - -"What is the matter?" he exclaimed; "what is the matter?" - -"Mort Dieu!" cried the second in command, "we have been cheated, Sir -John. This man is not the bishop after all. Here is one of our own -people who knows him, and says he is really the bailiff." - -"I am indeed," cried the miserable coward; "and if you would have let -me, I would have told you all long ago." - -"He Says, the friar was there not an hour ago," vociferated the second -in command, "and that they must have got him out, either into these -houses, or into the wood, as we were coming up the valley." - -"Search the houses," said the commander; "and send a troop up the road -to the wood." - -"It is done, it is done," cried the other. "The men are furious; for -they will lose all share of the reward. By Satan and all his imps," he -added, "I believe they have set fire to the houses." - -"This will come to a serious reckoning," said the commander gravely. -"Try and stop the fire there. Call off the men;" and, as promptly as -might be, he did all that was possible to remedy the evil that had -been done. As every one who has had the command of rude men must know, -however, there are times when they become perfectly ungovernable. Such -was the case at present. They were an irregular and ruthless body who -now surrounded the abbey; and without attending to the orders they -received, to the remonstrances or even to the threats of their -commander, they set fire to every building on the right hand side of -the green. Nor would the others have escaped the same fate, nor the -abbey itself have been left unassailed, had not the officer, as a last -resource, commanded the trumpets to sound, and ordered all who could -be gathered together to march up the road, for the purpose of -searching the forest. - -The stragglers followed, as soon as they found that the principal part -of the troop had left them; and the whole force, except three or four, -who remained to complete the pillage of the priest's house, marched -slowly up, till a halt was sounded under the first trees of the wood. - -There, however, the officer in command selected some twenty men from -his band, and rode back to the abbey green. The rest of the men halted -where they stood, inquiring of each other what could be the meaning of -this proceeding. - -He gave no explanation even when he returned; but the next morning, at -daybreak, three bodies were found hanging by the neck from poles stuck -into the thatch of one of the unconsumed cottages. - - - - -CHAPTER XI. - - -"Oh, I am very glad!" exclaimed Iola, in a tone so confiding, so -joyful, that it made Chartley's heart thrill. - -There is certainly something in trust and confidence that is -wonderfully winning. Even with man--fierce, bloody, all-devouring -man--it is hardly possible to resist sacred confidence. The birds, the -beasts which trust us, and show their trust by cheerful familiarity, -we spare and cherish. The robin hops upon the window sill, and we feed -it with the crumbs from our table; and--to go from the least to the -greatest--we are told, that if we too trust in God, He will feed us, -as we feed the bird. - -Yes, there is something very winning in confidence; and Lord Chartley, -though he could not see the fair face of Iola distinctly, thought her -more beautiful at that moment than when she had been sitting by his -side at the abbey. - -"Dear lady," he said, taking her hand and speaking in a low voice, "it -rejoices me that you are glad; and right glad am I too, believe me, to -find you, though I did not rightly expect it. I have seen our friend -the woodman but now, and him whom you wot of. They are safely across -the road; but I could not be satisfied, when I heard that you had gone -back alone, without following you, to assure myself of your safety. -Why did you--" - -"But who is that--who is that up there?" demanded Iola, pointing with -her left hand, in the direction of the spot where she had seen another -figure standing, but not withdrawing her right from that of the young -nobleman, and, on the contrary, creeping closer to him. - -"Fear not," replied Chartley; "it is only my good slave. I stationed -him there, to warn you there was danger on that path, while I crept -through the trees, to see you safely to the cell. Why did you turn -back? Are you afraid to go through the passage alone?" - -"No, no," she answered; "but, alas, the door is closed, and cannot be -opened from this side." - -"Unfortunate indeed!" exclaimed Lord Chartley. "What is to be done -now?--Where are you to pass the night?" - -"Oh," replied Iola, in a frank cheerful tone, "I fear not now when you -are with me. I will go at once to the good woodman's cottage, if you -will but kindly take care of me till I reach it. I shall be quite safe -there." - -"It would be indeed a pleasant task," replied her young companion; -"but it is impossible, either for you or me, dear lady, to reach the -cottage without danger, to which you must not be exposed. There is -already one troop of these men upon the road; and, if I judge rightly -by the trumpet I heard just now, others will soon follow. It would -seem that they have discovered our good friend's escape, and are -pursuing him hither. Besides, the woodman will not be at his dwelling -for several hours. I saw him across the road, just before the head of -the troop came up the hill; and then, after watching for a moment, and -perceiving that they sent parties forward, as if to patrol, I came on -hither, fearful for you." - -"You are very kind," said Iola, in a low and sweet but sad tone. "What -I am to do now, I know not. I must pass the night in the wood, I -fancy, like the poor children that they tell of. Would that I had -brought warmer garments; for in truth it is not warm; and, what -between fear and cold, I am shaking already.--What will become of me, -I wonder?" - -"Nay, the cold shall be soon remedied," answered the young nobleman. -"This furred surcoat could not serve a fairer purpose or a fairer -maid, though in truth it might hold two such slight fairy forms as -this.--Nay, I insist upon it," he continued, as he wrapped the warm -garment round her: "and as for fear, dear lady, tremble not for that. -I will defend you with my life, and will not part with you, till I see -you safely back within the walls of the abbey, or at least under your -good aunt's protection. Besides, I have strong help at need, in the -strength of my good Arab's arm. Woe be to the rover who meets the edge -of his scimitar. Nevertheless, we must find out some place of refuge -for the night, if it be but a bower of green boughs, where you can -sleep while I guard you as your sentinel." - -"It were better to seek some more secure hiding-place," answered Iola, -"where these people will not find us. There is what they call Prince -Edward's cave, I know not why; but that is on the other side of the -road." - -"The woodman spoke of an old castle on the hill," said the young -nobleman. "I saw the keep too, towering up from below; but now I -cannot tell which way it lies." - -"Oh, I can find the way," cried Iola gladly. "I know every path -thither, and almost every stone in the building. It lies on this side -of the hill too, though it is more than a mile off." - -"Then let us thither if you can find the way," replied Chartley. -"Should we be pursued, we can play at hide and seek there, or, at the -worst, make good some tower or staircase till help comes. Were I sure -that there is any officer or man of repute with these bands, I should -not fear for you, but so fair a flower must not be trusted in the rude -hands of lawless soldiery." - -Iola did not, or would not, notice the last words. Indeed, it is rare, -when a phrase contains several parts, that more than one is attended -to by any individual. She fixed at once upon what he had said -regarding the old castle, and answered, "Oh, we can play at hide and -seek with them there, for a year, if we can but reach it safely; and I -think I can lead you thither by a path they will never dream of; for -still, while approaching, it seems to be turning away from the object -at which it aims." - -"Somewhat like woman's wit, dear lady," answered Lord Chartley, -laughing, "which I must say often takes the prettiest ways imaginable -to its ends, in gay meanderings round and round. But come. There is no -fear of their attempting to search the wood, this night at least, -though they may try to watch all the outlets. We shall pass safe -enough, if we enter upon no high roads." - -"No, no," answered Iola, with a little spice of vengeance. "They shall -be all crooked, narrow, and obscure, like man's policy. Here, we must -turn up here, and take up your Moor by the way." - -"Lean upon my arm then," said Chartley, drawing hers through his own. -"You will need some support on this long journey." - -"It will be like the journey of life," she answered, "where sometimes -we must tread the narrow path singly and unsupported; sometimes -guiding and helping each other." - -Thus saying, she walked on with him, leaning lightly on his arm, but -musing as she went. Chartley spoke a few words to Ibn Ayoub, bidding -him follow a few steps behind, and keep a watchful ear for any sounds -of pursuit; and thus he and his fair companion proceeded for about -five minutes in silence, till at length Iola broke from her fit of -musing, saying abruptly, "Heaven help me! What would my poor aunt -think if she knew that I was wandering here alone with you, my lord?" - -Lord Chartley thought he perceived in those words a certain portion of -doubt and fear, which he could not but own was natural, but yet he was -very anxious to remove. "I trust she would be glad," he replied, "that -you had met with one, by a strange accident, in whom you and she can -fully trust, to guard and defend you against all wrong. I think you -know that such a one is by your side." - -"Oh that I do," she answered, looking up towards his face, though she -could not see it. "Do not suppose I have any fears of you, my lord; -for I feel as if I had known you many a year; and, though they say we -should judge no man rashly, yet I am right sure you would neither -wrong me nor see me wronged, for any good the world could give. My -aunt, however, might be more suspicious; for she has strange notions -of the world, and I trust not true ones." - -Chartley was silent for a moment or two, and then laughed gaily. - -"It were easy," he replied at length, "to say as I was just going to -say--Trust me, and doubt all other men; but I had better say nothing -of the kind, however, for I can neither tell you rightly why you -should suspect others, nor give you a good reason why you should trust -me. Happy is it, in my case, that you have no choice. Trust me you -must, sweet girl, whether you will or not; but believe me," he added, -thinking he felt a certain tendency to withdraw her arm from his, -"believe me, that trust is not misplaced, and never will be. So now I -will make no more professions. There is another blast of the trumpet; -but it is farther off than before." - -"It comes down the hill," answered Iola. "They have got farther on -than we have; but yet we shall beat them, I trust; for the many are -ever outwitted by the few, I hear, though, good sooth, I know nothing -of life, and but repeat such sage sayings as an old nurse's songs, -without being sure if they be to the right tune or not.--Oh, prudery," -she continued gaily, "what would the dear nuns, and sister Bridget -especially, say, if they could hear me thus chattering with a young -lord, in a dark wood, when there is so much sad and sober earnest -going on near?--You too, perhaps, think it strange; but I have had so -little practice in concealing what I think, that my foolishness ever -rushes to my lips before my slow wit can start forth to stop it." - -"Nay, I think no such thing," replied Lord Chartley, "for, by my -faith, the case is much the same with me. Besides, did we not make a -bargain at supper time, that the casket was not to be closed, but all -the jewels of the heart were to be left unveiled?" - -"True," she answered. "It was a rash promise; but like all promises, I -suppose, it must be kept; and indeed, had it not been made, I am -afraid the course would have been the same; for the key of that casket -which you talk of is seldom to be found when needed; and the lock is -somewhat rusty, from being left always open.--Think not, however, I -would act or speak thus to all men; for had you, as did the only young -man I ever saw twice before yourself, talked of my beautiful eyes or -my charming fingers--or even, like the friend who was with you, had -you thrown out a pretty neat-turned compliment upon bright and -beautiful looks, to be picked up by any one who thought it worth the -stooping for, I should have been as grave and silent as a deaf -canoness, or have run away from you as fast as my feet could carry me; -but you spoke of better things, though gaily, and seemed to me to know -what is due, from knight and gentleman, to a woman and a lady, and -therefore, my good lord, I trust you as a friend, and speak to you as -a brother." - -Whatever were the feelings of Lord Chartley--whether he felt inclined -to remain in the cool relationship of friend and brother, or whether -there were not growing upon him sensations towards his fair companion -of a somewhat warmer nature, he was well aware that fraternal regard -is one of the very best and most serviceable trenches for attacking -the citadel of a woman's heart, and consequently he thanked Iola -gracefully for her trust, and did nothing in the world to scare the -timidity of early confidence. Perhaps his was a character to win it -more quickly than that of most men; gay, cheerful, brave, apparently -thoughtless, but in reality considerate and reflective, light-hearted -from strong corporeal health, fair fortunes, and self-reliance, as -well as from a hopeful and sanguine heart, one seemed at once to see -clear and distinct from the act to the motive, from the words to the -emotions in which they originated. There was none of that misty -clouded policy, none of that obscure and twilight art, which is sure -to create suspicion and place the minds of others on their guard; but -all was frank, open, free; and though people might judge him to be -more rash than he really was, and heedless of consequences when he was -in reality quite the reverse, no one ever for a moment suspected half -the deep feeling that was in his heart, or the cool though rapid -reflection which went on in his mind. - -We are inclined to imagine that when a man acts quickly and decidedly, -even in cases where there is no need of haste, that he acts -imprudently and without due consideration. We say--"he might have -taken time for thought." - -But thought is a very different thing in the minds of different men. -With one, it is the cart-horse which plods slowly along with its heavy -load from one point of the road to another. With others, it is the -race-horse, darting like an arrow shot from a bow to the object in -view. The distance and the path are the same, but only they are -travelled more rapidly in the one instance than in the other. -Undoubtedly the race-horse was the illustration of Chartley's mind. It -would have foamed and fretted to be restrained to the slow progress -which many another man preferred; and when forced to proceed tardily, -in order to keep the same pace as others, like the same horse, it -would curvet and passage, showing its impatience by a thousand wild -gambols. - -Short specimens of conversations are enough upon all ordinary -occasions; and therefore I will only say, that the young nobleman and -his fair companion, followed by the Arab, at the distance of eight or -ten yards, threaded their way through the wood paths, lightly and -easily, talking as they went. It may seem strange that they so soon -lost the sense of apprehension, and could converse on other things, -while dangers were round about; but it was a part of the characters of -both, to be little and but transiently impressible by any thing like -fear. Hope was ever predominant in the heart of each, and hope is -certainly a great element of courage. Danger was thought of only while -it was actually present; and imagination was fonder of plucking -flowers than looking out for thorns. True, they stopped and listened -from time to time, to make themselves sure that no enemies were near. -True, that when Iola had to lead the way through one of those narrow -paths, where two could not go abreast, she sometimes looked back to -assure herself that Chartley was near her; but when they were -together, they generally conversed gaily, and often even laughed, -although Iola felt some apprehensions for her good aunt and her -cousin, which could not be altogether removed, even by Chartley's -assurances that the burning of the houses upon the green was the -strongest proof of Richard's bands not having got into the abbey. - -"Besides," he said, "I am quite sure that the commanders of these men, -as long as they have the troops under their own eye, would not suffer -them to commit any violence in a religious house; for the king himself -is devout, as we all know, and though he might wink at a violation of -sanctuary, for his own purpose, he would punish severely any -unnecessary injury done in effecting it." - -These arguments certainly were consolatory to Iola, and left the fears -which still lingered, only as passing shades, coming across her mind -for a moment, and soon disappearing, like those cast by light clouds -floating over the sun in a summer's day. - -Onward they walked then, amidst the branches of the wood, and along -the paths out in the thick underwood, still covered by the brown -leaves of the preceding year. The thaw which had prevailed since the -night before had penetrated even into the depths of the wood; and the -grass was covered with unfrozen drops which rendered it almost as -white as under the hoar frost. This was peculiarly the case upon what -may be called the first step of the hill; but the path soon began to -ascend, at first winding gently about upon the upland slope, and then, -spreading out to a greater width, ran along under some high cliffy -banks, somewhat too steep to surmount in a direct line. Here, from -time to time, a beautiful view of the abbey, with the lower grounds -surrounding it, might have been obtained, had there been daylight; and -even in the darkness of the night, aided by a faint light from the -smoking ruins of the cottages on the green, the eye could distinguish -the sombre masses of the old pile, rising above all the surrounding -objects. - -"You see the abbey is safe," said Chartley, in a low tone; "and the -fires are going out. I hear no sound.--Perhaps these troops are -withdrawn." - -"We could soon see," said Iola, "if we turned to the westward, for -there is a little point, which commands a view of the road." - -Perhaps Chartley did not very much wish to see; for, to say the truth, -he had no great inclination to part with his fair companion so soon. -He had made up his mind, by this time, to the not unpleasant task of -passing the rest of the night with her in the old castle. There was a -spirit of adventure in it--a touch of that romance which is agreeable -to almost every young man's mind. Nevertheless, he thought it more -proper to follow the suggestion, although the result might be to -convey her back to the abbey, and send him onward on his way to -Hinckley. They turned then in the direction she indicated, and, at the -distance of about a hundred and fifty yards, came to a spot where a -small stream welled from the high bank, and the waters were gathered, -before they crossed the road, into a small clear pool; a beautiful -object and beautifully situated. The rugged cliff from which the -spring flowed, like a parent looking into a child's eyes, bent over -the fountain, and caught the image of itself. The stars were mirrored -in it; and a light birch that grew beside it bent its head down to -drink. - -"I will sit here," said Iola, "upon this stone, where I have often sat -before, if you will run up the bank by that little path, which will -lead you to a spot where a greater part of the road can be seen. Stop -where the path stops; and do not be long, for I shall be frightened. I -do not know whether you can see anything upon the road in this dark -night; but the sand is light of colour, so as to show anything dark -moving upon it, I think." - -"I will leave the Arab with you," said Chartley. "You can trust him -fully. Stay with the lady, Ibn Ayoub," he continued, "and guard her as -you would the prophet's tomb." - -The man folded his arms upon his breast, and remained precisely in the -same attitude, at the distance of three or four paces, while his lord -ran lightly up the path; and Iola, seating herself by the fountain, -gazed down upon the limpid water, from which a dim shadowy form looked -up at her again. What were her thoughts then? Perhaps, she too -contemplated the result of all obstacles to her return to the abbey -being removed, the consequent parting with her young and kind -companion, and the probability of her never meeting with him again. It -was not without a feeling of regret. She almost wished that she had -not proposed to Chartley to see whether the troops were still there or -not; and then she was angry with herself for entertaining such -feelings. Then she meditated upon the passing the night with him in -the ruins; and certainly she did not regard such a thing in the same -way that he did. She felt a little alarmed, of she knew not what, a -hesitation, a doubt. It would feel very strange, she thought--almost -wrong. While there had seemed no other choice, such feelings had never -presented themselves, but now they were strong. It would be very -pleasant, she could not deny, to have his society for some time -longer--with friends and companions about them; but alone, in a remote -place, with the world's eye afar--that eye which acts as a bond but a -safeguard, a restraint but a justification--the matter was very -different. Yet--strange human nature!--when, a moment after, she heard -a blast of a trumpet coming from the road, and a loud voice shouting -forth some orders, it was a relief to her. Perhaps she feared the -parting with Chartley so soon, even more than passing of a night with -him in the old castle. Dear girl, she could not help it. It was no -fault of hers. Nature taught her to cling to that which had protected -her. Nature taught her to love that which came upon her hitherto dull -existence like the first gleam of summer's returning sunshine into the -wintry sky. - -A moment after, Chartley's step was heard returning; and, running down -the bank, he said: - -"They are upon the road still, and moreover, preparing to surround the -wood by patrols, probably with the intention of searching it -thoroughly to-morrow. Let us on, sweet Iola, and seek our place of -refuge, for we have no choice left; and they may perchance push some -of their parties along these broader paths to-night. I should not like -to come into collision with them, if I can help it. Here, let me stay -your steps;" and once more he drew her arm through his. - -"I had hoped," answered Iola--little hypocrite--"that they were all -gone, and that you might be spared farther trouble on my account -to-night." - -"Trouble!" said Chartley; and he laughed. "I know not what you feel, -dear lady; but I cannot, for my life, think all this night's adventure -so very disastrous. I grieve, of course, that you should be alarmed or -pained in any way; but yet a few hours of such sweet society, the -power of protecting, assisting, supporting you, the linking of -feelings, and sympathies, and associations with yours, even for so -short a space, has something very pleasant in it. Whatever may be our -fate hereafter, Lady Iola, we shall both remember this night, as one -of those high points of time, which raise their heads out of the ocean -of the past, and glitter afar in the light of memory." - -"I must tell him about myself and my fate," thought Iola; but Chartley -pursued the subject no farther; and turning back upon their steps, -they renewed their ascent towards the castle, winding along amongst -the trees, which were there farther apart and less encumbered by -underwood. - -How rapidly the wild encroaches upon the cultivated, when the hand of -man is once withdrawn. In former years--not very long before, -certainly not a century--the detached elevation in the wood, on which -the castle stood, had been covered with smooth clean-shaven green -turf, without tree or shrub, which could cover an approaching enemy -from the shafts of the garrison. It had its road winding round it from -the principal gate, and passing, till it approached the edge of the -neighbouring forest, within bow shot of some loop-hole or battlement, -at every turn. Now the trees had grown over the whole mount, as thick -and close as anywhere in the wood--over road and all; and nothing but -a pathway remained, where bands of retainers had formerly ridden up -and down on horseback. The self-sown oaks, indeed, were small and -thin; but there were some enormous ash trees, and large fine elms and -beeches, which no one would have supposed of so late a growth. A great -number of birches--"the ladies of the wood,"--mingled their slight -silvery stems with the sturdier and more lordly forest trees, and the -winged seeds of the ash, wafted to the walls, had planted themselves -here and there, wherever a fallen stone had left a vacant space in the -mortar, and had shot up into feathery shrubs, fringing the ancient -battlements and cresting the tall tower. Thus, in the early summer -time, when leaves are green, the castle at a distance could hardly be -distinguished from the forest. - -Up the small path I have mentioned, Iola and Chartley took their way, -and at length stood under the old arch of the barbican. One of the -towers which had flanked it had fallen down, and, filling up the -fosse, afforded a firmer path than the drawbridge, which, partly -broken down, I know not whether by age or war, offered but an insecure -footing. One of the long beams indeed, and two or three of the planks, -still hung by the heavy chain used formerly to raise the bridge; but -Iola hesitated, although she had often crossed before, fearing, in the -darkness, to lose her footing on the bridge, or to stumble amongst the -stones, if she chose the path over the fallen tower. Chartley -instantly divined her doubt, and going on part of the way over the -drawbridge, held out his hand, saying: "Let me steady your steps. It -is quite firm." - -Iola followed at once; and the Arab came after; but when they reached -the great gate, the lady again paused, saying, "It is so dark, I fear -we shall never find our way about the building, without the risk of -some accident, for many of the steps are broken down, and fragments of -the walls encumber the doorways, although some of the rooms in the -keep are almost as if they had been just inhabited. I wonder how long -it is to daybreak." - -"I have not heard the bell for lauds," replied Chartley, "and -therefore, probably, three or four hours may elapse before we see the -face of day. Perhaps, however, we can contrive to light a fire -somewhere in the court, for the high trees and walls would screen it -from the eyes of the men upon the road." - -"Let us find our way into the great court first," said Iola. "There is -plenty of dry wood about the place, if we could but find a light." - -"That will be soon obtained," answered Lord Chartley, "and, perhaps, -something that may serve the purpose of a torch or candle also;" and, -speaking a few words to the Arab, which Iola did not understand, he -led the way forward, stretching out his hands, like a blind man, to -make sure of the path he trod; for, if the night was dark without, the -darkness was doubly deep under the shadow of the arch. After passing -through the gateway, the great court seemed light enough by -comparison. In the centre rose the large keep or donjon tower, -frowning heavily over the scene below; and forth from the side of the -keep came a pile of very ancient buildings, now silent and desolate -like the rest. - -Chartley and Iola are now alone; for the Arab had left them. But yet -she did not and she would not fear, for she had great confidence in -her companion, and woman's confidence is of a very capacious measure. -Nor did he wrong it--shame upon him who does--but, guiding her quietly -to the flight of steps leading into the keep, he made her sit down -upon the dilapidated stairs, and stood beside her, talking about -subjects which could awake no emotion, or a very slight one, and, -informing her that he had sent the slave to seek for materials to -light a fire. None of those events, however, occurred, which -continually happen to people cast upon a desert island. There were -none of those appliances or means at hand, with which wandering -sailors are usually supplied accidentally. No bituminous pine was -found to fulfil the office of a torch; and at length after the Arab's -return, the only resource of the fugitives was to light a fire, after -the most ancient and approved fashion, by a flint and steel. This, -however, was accomplished with less difficulty than might have been -expected, the young lord's dagger supplying the steel, and flints -being numerous in the neighbourhood. The old brown leaves, and the -young but well-dried shoots, soon caught the flame; and in a few -minutes the joyous light was spreading round the old court yard, and -raising Iola's spirits by the very look. - -"Ah, now we can rest here in comfort," said, the young lady gazing -around her; "but the light is not yet sufficient to see the inside of -the hall." - -"But still you cannot sleep here, sweet Iola," answered her companion. -"I and the slave will go in and light a fire in the hall, if you will -tend this in the meanwhile." - -"Nay," she answered, "I want not to sleep;" and she detained him -gently by the arm. "Let us sit down here. See here is a stone bench -bowered in the ivy. We can pass the night in telling tales; and first -you shall inform me how you came hither on foot in the forest, when I -thought you had gone away for Leicester." - -Lord Chartley easily satisfied her on that point; and seated on the -stone bench by her side, as near as possible, gazing from time to time -on her bright countenance, by the gleams of the firelight, he related -to her all that had occurred to him since he had left the abbey. - -"As to my being on foot," he said, "your good friend the woodman -judged it best that I and my Arab should leave our horses at his hut, -for fear of attracting attention. All I hope is, that they will not be -found there by these good gentlemen, who are watching the wood; for it -might be dangerous if they were recognised as my property." - -"There is a great risk indeed," said Iola anxiously. "What will you do -if such should be the case?" - -"As best I can," answered Chartley. "I never premeditate, dear lady; -for I always remark that those who go lightly and carelessly through -the world go the farthest. The circumstances of the moment determine -my conduct; and as I have no ties to bind me but those of honour and -truth, no ambitious schemes to be frustrated or executed, no deeds -done that I am ashamed of, so I have never any great store of fears -for the future, nor much need of forming plans at any time for after -action." - -"Happy are those," answered Iola, with a sigh, "who, as you say, have -no ties to bind them." - -Her reply was a natural one, springing at once from what was passing -in her own heart. Something had whispered that it would be better to -tell her companion, that her own fate was linked to another, that she -had been contracted in fact in infancy, by her relations, to a person -of whom she knew nothing. The thought of informing him of her fate, -however, led her to think of that fate itself; and thence came the -sigh and the answer that she made. But as soon as it was uttered, she -felt that it rendered more difficult, nay impossible, the task of -telling the circumstances as she had meditated. The words she had just -spoken, the sigh she had just breathed, expressed too clearly the -regret that she really felt; but to explain to him the source of that -regret, to show him the nature of the tie that oppressed her, would, -she thought, be unwomanly and indecent. - -Her words, however, had not been unmarked; and Chartley, reading them -wrongly, pressed her gaily for explanation. - -"Nay," he said, "you have no ties to regret. Your good aunt, the -abbess, told me herself, that you are not destined for the life of the -convent. If you do take the veil, it must be from some fancied -resolution of your own heart, against which it is the duty of every -knight and gentleman to war. Fie, fie! Let those who have tasted the -world and found it bitter; let those to whom it has pleased Heaven to -deny beauty, and grace, and mind, and kindly feeling; let those who -have sorrows to mourn, or evil acts to repent, seek the shades of the -convent; but do not bury there charms of person, and mind, and heart, -such as yours, intended by Heaven to be the blessing and the hope and -the comfort of another. I must not, I will not have it." - -He spoke so eagerly, so warmly, and his eyes looked so bright, that -Iola felt glad the Arab was standing near piling fresh wood upon the -fire. She knew not how to answer; but at length she said, "I am not -destined for a convent; but there may be other ties as binding as the -vow to the veil." - -"You are not married," exclaimed Chartley, starting; and then he -added, with a laugh--a gladsome laugh, "No, no. You told me yourself -that you had only seen one other young man twice in life besides -myself." - -"No, not married--" answered Iola, casting down her eyes, and speaking -in a low and sad tone. But her farther reply was interrupted; for the -Arab suddenly lifted his finger with a warning gesture, and said in a -low voice: - -"Steps come." - -"Let us into the old hall," said Chartley, rising, and taking a -burning brand from the fire. "This will give us some light at least. -Ibn Ayoub, stay you in the archway till I return. I will come -directly; but let no one pass." - -The Arab drew a long sharp pointed knife from his girdle, saying; "I -will take care;" and the young lord and Iola hurried, through the -gateway of the keep, into the interior of the building. - - - - -CHAPTER XII. - - -In a small, but rich and beautiful, Gothic chamber, splendidly -decorated, and splendidly furnished, sat a gentleman, in the very -prime of life, at a table covered with manifold papers. His dress was -gorgeous; but the eye rested hardly for a moment on the splendour of -his apparel, for there was something in his countenance which at once -fixed all attention upon itself. The features were delicate and -beautiful, the eyes dark, keen, and expressive. The lips were somewhat -thin, and apparently habitually compressed, though when they parted -they showed a row of teeth as white as snow. The long dark brown hair -was of silky fineness and gloss, bending in graceful waves about a -brow broad, high, and majestic, which would have been perfect in form, -had not habit or nature stamped a wrinkled frown upon it, while some -long lines, the traces of deep thought, furrowed the wide expanse -which age had not yet had time to touch. He was in the prime of life, -the early prime, for he had not yet seen three and thirty years, and -not a particle of bodily or mental energy had been lost; but yet his -form did not give any promise of great strength, for he was somewhat -below the middle height, and the limbs seemed small and delicate. One -shoulder was rather higher than the other, but not so much so as to be -a striking deformity; and the left arm seemed somewhat smaller than -its fellow. No means had been taken to conceal these defects; and yet -he might have passed anywhere for an exceedingly good-looking man, had -it not been for a certain expression of fierce and fiery passion which -occasionally came into his countenance, blending strangely with the -look of sarcastic acuteness which it usually bore. It was upon his -face at that moment, as he read a letter before him; but it passed -away speedily, and it was with a bitter smile he said--speaking to -himself, for there was no one else in the room-- - -"Not know? He must be made to know! We will pluck the heart of this -treason out;" and he wrote a few words hastily on the back of the -letter which he had been reading. - -Then, however, he paused, laid his finger on his temple, and thought -deeply for a minute or two. "No," he said at length, "no! It must be -passed over. If they catch him in the abbey, the lad's fault shall be -passed over. He has served the purposes of a decoy--done good service -without knowing it; and we will not kill the bird that lures the game -to us, though it little thinks that it betrays its fellows--perhaps -imagines it is serving them, not us. I have heard there was friendship -between the bishop and his father; and we must alienate no friends -just now.--Friends!" he continued, with a bitter sneer. "What are -friends? I know but one, whom men can ever count upon; and he dwells -here;" and at the same time he laid his hand significantly on his own -broad forehead. - -He then took the pen again, and struck out the words he had written on -the paper, pushed it aside, raised another, and, after glancing over -it, clapped his hands, exclaiming-- - -"Without, there!" - -A servant instantly appeared; and the king, for it was Richard -himself, demanded-- - -"Did you not tell me that this man, John Radnor, had been killed by a -fail from his horse?" - -"Yes, sire," answered the servant, "so the posts say, who brought your -grace the news that the earls of Richmond's fleet had been dispersed. -He was found dead upon the road, but with his purse and papers all -secure, so that they could not be thieves who slew him." - -"I trust there are few such left in the land," said Richard. "I have -done something already to crush the lawless spirit engendered in this -country by long turbulence and domestic strife; and I will trample out -the last spark ere I have done. By Christ, the name of thief shall be -unknown in the land if I live long enough.--I grieve for this man," he -continued, musing. "He was a serviceable knave, and one to whose -dexterity we could trust instructions somewhat difficult to write, and -yet not make him an ambassador.--Send Sir John Thoresby to me," he -continued, "and as soon as Sir Charles Weinants comes, give him -admission." - -With a low reverence, the man withdrew; and the king busied himself -with the papers again, till the door opened and a gentleman in black -entered the room. - -"Let those be answered, Sir John," said the king, pushing some letters -to him, "and take order that lodging and entertainment be prepared at -York for the Princess Countess of Arran. Send off too, by a private -hand, which can be trusted, a letter to the king her brother, greeting -him well from us, and telling him that the secret note, sent with the -letters of the countess, has been received. Bid him set his mind at -ease, for that the matter is very sure, and that, search as she will, -search will be fruitless, so that she can come safely.--Have you seen -the queen?" - -"I passed her but now, your grace, in the hall," replied the -gentleman; "and she enquired if there were any news from Middleham. -She seemed much alarmed on account of the prince's illness." - -"Oh, it is nothing, it is nothing," answered the king. "It will soon -pass. Children are well and ill in a day. The next post will bring us -news that he is better; but women are full of fears. Yet it is strange -we have not heard to-day. I will go and see her, while you write -here;" and, with a slow pace and thoughtful air, he quitted the room. - -At the end of a short corridor, Richard opened a door, which gave him -admission to a large old hall, in one part of which were seated -several young ladies of high family, working busily at embroidery -frames. At one of the tall arched windows, gazing out on the prospect -below, with a look of restless anxiety on her face, stood the fair and -unfortunate daughter of the earl of Warwick, his youngest and his best -beloved, whom, with the prophetic spirit of parental affection, he had -endeavoured in vain to hide from the pursuit of him who never set his -eyes upon an object without sooner or later attaining it. She was -richly dressed, according to the mode of those times; and her slight -figure and her fair face still retained many traces of that delicate -and feminine beauty which had once so highly distinguished them. - -The instant she heard her husband's step, she turned quickly round -with a timid and inquiring glance; but Richard was in one of his -milder moods. The subject of his thought and hers was one of common -affection; and he advanced tenderly towards her, and took her in his -arms, saying-- - -"I have heard nothing, Ann; but cast these fears from your mind. I -trust that this is nothing but one of those sicknesses of childhood -which come and pass away like spring showers." - -The tears came into the queen's eyes, rising from very mingled -emotions. Her apprehension for her child, her husband's tenderness, -the feeling perhaps of her own failing health, the recollections of -early years, all moved her heart; and yet she feared that her emotions -might rouse an impatient spirit in Richard's breast. - -It was not so, however; and, pressing her somewhat closer to him, he -said-- - -"Well, well, wipe away your tears, love. If we hear not better tidings -to-day, thou shalt go to Middleham, and I will go with thee." - -"Thanks, my gracious lord, thanks," replied the queen. "Perhaps it is -but a weak woman's fears for her only one, that so sink my spirit; but -I feel to-day a sort of awe, as if of approaching fate." - -"You give way, you give way," said Richard with a slight touch of -impatience. "However, there is good news abroad. This rash exiled earl -of Richmond, whom you have heard of, doubtless, has seen his Breton -ships--which the good doating duke now bitterly regrets he lent -him--dispersed and broken by a heavy tempest; and he himself has slunk -back to St. Maloes; but I have already limed some twigs for this light -bird, which will yet stick to his feet; and he may find conveyance -into England more speedy, though not so prosperous as that which he -has been contriving for himself.--How now, Lovel? You look perilous -grim, as if you and your cognizance had changed countenances." - -"I grieve to be the bearer of bad tidings, gracious sire," replied -Lord Lovel, to whom these words were addressed, and who had entered -the room the moment before. "I did not know that either of your graces -were here, and was hastening to your closet." - -"But the news, the news," cried Richard, eagerly. "Heavy tidings grow -doubly weighty by long carrying. Out with them, man. Is there a new -insurrection in the west?--Has Richmond landed?--Speak, speak at -once!" - -"I had better have your grace's private ear for a few minutes," -replied Lord Lovel, in a low and very sad tone, at the same time -giving a glance towards the queen. Her eyes were fixed upon his face, -and she caught the expression at once. - -"My boy," she exclaimed. "He is worse. He is hopeless--I see it -there--I see it there;" and she pointed with her hand to his face. - -Richard gazed at him in profound deathlike silence, with his brow -knitted over his fine keen eyes, and the thin pale lip quivering -fearfully. It was a terrible thing to see the traces of such deep and -unwonted emotion on that powerful and commanding countenance; and -Lovel felt almost afraid to proceed. Richard tried to speak, but, for -the first time in life, his voice found no utterance; and all he could -do was to make a vehement sign for his favourite to go on. - -"Alas, sire," said Level, in a tone of unfeigned anguish, "your worst -fears are, I grieve to say--" - -"No, no," cried Richard, in a broken voice, grasping his arm as if he -would have sunk the fingers into the flesh. "No, no, not the -worst--not the worst!--He is very ill, you would say--the physicians -have no hope--but we will find more, wiser, skilfuller! There are -simples of great power--there are--there are--no, not dead, not -dead--no, not dead, not dead!--Oh, Jesu!" and he fell headlong to the -ground. - -The unhappy queen stood with her hands clasped together, her eyes bent -upon the floor, not a trace of colour in her cheeks or lips. She moved -not, she spoke not, she wept not, she uttered no cry, but remained -standing like a statue where the words had reached her ears with all -the terrible anguish of the moment concentrated in her heart. - -In the meantime, the embroidery frames were cast away. Her ladies -gathered round her, and drew her gently to her chair of state, in -which they placed her unresisting; but there she remained, precisely -as they had seated her, with her eyes still bent down, and her lips -still motionless. At the same time, Lovel raised the king, and called -loudly for assistance. Attendants hurried in, and amongst them the -messenger from Middleham, who had brought the tidings of the young -prince's death, and had been left at the door by Lord Lovel, when he -undertook to communicate the sad intelligence. But it was long ere -Richard could be brought to himself; and then he sat where they had -placed him, rubbing his brow with his hand, and muttering broken -sentences to himself. At length he looked up, and gazed with a curious -wild expression of countenance--still shrewd, still cunning, but -hardly sane; and then he laughed aloud, and, rising from his chair, -exclaimed: - -"Why, this is well. Why, this is mighty well! We'll march ten thousand -men on York, to-morrow, and then to Middleham.--We'll have cannon too, -ay, cannon too, lest the usurper should refuse to give up the boy. -Why, he is the son of a king, a prince--a prince, I tell you, Lovel, -the dog--Ha, ha, ha! That was a merry distich-- - - 'The cat, the rat, and Lovel, the dog, - Rule all England under the hog.' - -But we paid the poet handsomely. Kings should be always bountiful to -poets. Good Sir John Collingburn, he little thought that he should be -hanged for the cat, drawn for the rat, and quartered for Lovel the -dog--Ha, ha, ha! It is very good." - -At that moment, the queen's lips moved; and, raising her eyes towards -heaven, she began to sing a sweet and plaintive air, in a very musical -voice: - - - "The castle stood on a hill side, - Hey ho, hey ho, - And there came frost in the summer tide, - Hey ho, the wind and the snow. - - "A boy looked from the casement there, - Hey ho, hey ho, - And his face was like an angel's fair; - Hey ho, how the violets grow. - - "The snow, it fell on his golden hair, - Hey ho, hey ho, - And the wind has blighted the flower so fair, - Hey ho, the flower's laid low." - - -"I think I'll go to bed, ladies. It is growing dark; but this night -gear is somewhat stiff and cold, and I think it is dabbled with -blood--Blood, blood, blood! Yes it is blood!" and she uttered a loud -scream. [2] - - ---------------- - -[Footnote 2: For an account of the terrible effect--approaching to -madness--of the death of Edward, Prince of Wales, upon Richard III. -and his queen, see the history of Croyland Abbey.] - ---------------- - - -In the midst of this distressing scene Lord Lovel stood like one -bewildered; and he noted not that, while the king was speaking, -another person, none of the ordinary attendants had entered the room. -Now, however, Sir Charles Weinants pulled him by the sleeve, saying, -in a low voice: "I ought to speak with the king immediately; but he -seems in no fit state, my lord. What is all this?" - -"Hush, hush," said Lovel, in a whisper. "Go into the closet. I will -come and speak with you, for I have full instructions. The king is -indisposed, with the sad news from Middleham. He will soon be better. -I will join you in a minute. Your business will bear no delay." - -Thus saying, he turned to the king again; and Sir Charles Weinants, -with a slow and quiet step, crossed the hall, and, proceeding through -the short corridor I have mentioned, reached the king's closet. He -there found Sir John Thoresby, writing diligently; and the latter -merely raised his head for an instant, gave a brief nod, and resumed -his occupation. Sir Charles Weinants, ever discreet, walked to the -window, and looked out; for, as I have before said, there were -manifold papers and letters on the table, and he knew that it was -dangerous even to let the eye pause upon any of Richard's secrets. He -waited there with persevering patience, saying not a word to Sir John -Thoresby, and never turning round his head, till Lovel entered the -room, at the end of about ten minutes, and boldly dismissed the -secretary for a few moments. - -"Now, Sir Charles," said the king's favourite. "His grace, thank -Heaven, is somewhat better, and will soon be well. We have persuaded -him to let blood; for his spirits are too much oppressed. This is a -severe blow, the death of the young prince, and will make many changes -in the realm. You received the king's letter?" - -"In safety, my good lord," replied Sir Charles, "but not the letter -which was to have followed, informing me whether the Duke of Bretagne -would receive me on this errand or not." - -"How is that?" exclaimed Lord Lovel. "We sent it to York, thinking to -find you there;" and he laid his hand upon his brow and thought. -"Ratcliff, in his last letter, received but this morning, assured me -that he had sent it on to you at Tamworth, by a trusty messenger, who -was passing from Scotland to the king. Now it should have reached you -some days ago, for Ratcliff thought we were at Coventry, and his -letter to me has gone round." - -"It never reached me, my lord," replied Sir Charles Weinants, "and yet -I made known my name and quality wherever I came, and bade my servants -watch well, in order that no news from the court might miss me." - -"It must be inquired into," replied Level; "but in the mean time you -must hasten your departure; for I have seen the reply from Bretagne, -and you will be received with all favour. Monsieur Landais is fully -gained; and all that is required is some one to confirm the king's -promises, and give an earnest of his goodwill towards the duke. You -must set out this very night. I trust by that time his grace will be -well enough to see you himself and give you his last instructions; for -his is not a mind to bend long, even under the burden cast upon it." - -These words seemed intended to conclude the conversation; but Sir -Charles Weinants still stayed and mused. At length he looked up in -Lovel's face with a smile, saying, "I always love to be successful in -my negotiations; and methinks this young vapouring earl may take -fright when he hears of my coming. Were it not better to go with the -most perfect secrecy?" - -"Nay, that would be hardly possible," answered Lovel; "but we have -been thoughtful. You must go in some sort as a fugitive. A report has -already been spread that you are suspected by the king. Measures will -be taken to strengthen the belief; and, while you bear full powers as -his envoy, and the money for Landais, you must quit the court suddenly -by dark; and with a small train affect to seek refuge in Britanny. The -news of your disgrace has gone before; but good Monsieur Landais is -made aware of the truth, and prepared to receive you." - -Sir Charles Weinants was not altogether well pleased with the -arrangement; but he was discreet--very discreet; and he did not think -fit to make any objection. However, he knew there could be no harm in -establishing a claim where none previously existed; for he was well -aware that great men are ever ready enough to deny a claim, whether it -exists or not. He therefore said quietly, "The king's will, of course, -I submit to without a murmur, my good lord; but it is a very -unpleasant sort of reputation for an ambassador to appear with, that -of a fugitive and a traitor; and I trust that his grace will, remember -that I take upon myself such a character solely in obedience to his -commands." - -"You shalt not be forgotten, Sir Charles," replied Lovel, -entertaining, but not uttering, precisely the same sentiment which was -afterwards boldly propounded by a vast-minded but little-spirited man -namely, that "to submit to indignities is the way to rise to -dignities." - -"The king never neglects," he said, "those who place themselves in -painful situations for his service. And now, Sir Charles, prepare, -prepare--but quietly; never forgetting that your preparations are to -be those of a fugitive. The ambassador is to come after, you know. -When you have Harry of Richmond firm in your grasp, the splendour of -your train shall efface the memory of its scantiness now. Hark! There -is the king's voice, and his step coming hither. Do not wait or take -any notice. I dare say the barber is here to bleed him."[3] - - ---------------- - -[Footnote 3: Richard's attempt to obtain possession of the person of -Richmond by bribing Landais, the duke of Britanny's minister, is too -well known to need particular notice.] - ---------------- - - -The next instant Richard entered the closet, and Sir Charles Weinants -passed him, bowing low and reverently. But the king took no farther -notice of him than merely by giving a slow and inquiring glance, from -under his bent brows, at the face of his envoy; and then seating -himself in a chair, he suffered one of two persons who followed him -into the room to withdraw his arm from his doublet, the -barber-surgeon, who was close behind, directing the valet particularly -to give him the left arm, as that was nearest to the heart. The -servant then held a silver basin, while the operator made his -preparations and opened a vein. During all this time Richard uttered -not a word, but sat with his brows contracted, and his dark thoughtful -eyes fixed upon vacancy, till the sombre red bleed began to flow forth -from the vein; and then he turned his look upon the stream, and seemed -to watch it curiously. At length, he lifted his right hand to his -head, saying, "I am better--open the window. Give me air;" and the -servant instantly hurried to obey his commands. The barber suffered -the blood still to flow on, for a little while, and then bound up the -king's arm. - -"I am better," said Richard. "I am better;" and, stretching forth his -hands, he added, in an imperative tone. "Leave me--all leave me! I am -better--I would be alone." - -The whole party hastened to obey, and, as soon as they were gone, -Richard, the iron-spirited relentless Richard, placed his hands before -his eyes, and wept. It is a terrible sight to see a man weep at any -time. What must it have been to see tears forced from such a heart as -Richard's! - - - - -CHAPTER XIII. - - -Let us take up the history of the woodman, after he and the bishop of -Ely had quitted Lord Chartley. They crossed rapidly over the road, -hearing the sound of horses advancing, and of men speaking, as they -did so. Neither uttered a word; and the prelate was hastily directing -his steps towards a spot where, by the dim light, he saw what seemed a -continuation of the path he had just quitted, but the woodman seized -his arm, and drew him on a little way up the road to a place where the -bushes seemed so thick as to afford no passage through them. Putting -aside the branches, however, with his sturdy arm, Boyd dragged rather -than led Morton forward; and, for some way, the good bishop fancied -that they should never find a path again, so thick and difficult -seemed the copse. It extended not fifty yards, however; and, though -somewhat scratched by the brambles, which clung round his feet and -legs at every step, Morton, at length, found himself emerging into an -open part of the wood, where the ground was covered with thick fern, -out of which, every here and there, rose an old hawthorn or the bushy -shoots of an oak or beech felled long ago. - -"'Tis a rough road," said the woodman, in a low voice, as he relaxed -his hold of the prelate's arm. - -"So are all the ways of life, my son," answered the bishop. - -"And the roughest often the safest," answered Boyd. "I know it by -experience. Smooth paths end in precipices." - -At that instant something started up before them out of the fern, and -a quick rush was heard through the neighbouring brushwood. The bishop -started, and drew a little back, but Boyd said with a laugh,-- - -"'Tis but a doe, my lord. If she find her way amongst the soldiers, -there will be more chases than one to-night. Fear not, however. I -will answer for your safety, though not for hers." - -"I do not fear," answered the prelate. "Indeed, I am little given to -fear; but, as you doubtless well know, my son, the mind has not always -that command over the body which can prevent the mere animal impulse -from starting at dangers, which calm consideration could meet -unshrinking." - -"True," replied the woodman. "So long as life is happy it may be so; -but with the loss of all that makes existence valuable, the body -itself loses its sensibility to all signs of danger. Hope, dread, -anxiety, and the struggle with the ills of life, make us vibrate as it -were to the touch of all external things; but when hope and fear are -dead, when there is neither care nor thought of existence, 'tis -wonderful how this blind horse of the body, ridden by that plodding -wayfarer, the mind, learns to jog on, without starting at anything -that glistens on the way.--But come on, my good lord, for I must take -you first to my cottage, and then send you forward some miles upon -your journey." - -Thus saying, he walked forward; and the good bishop followed through -the more open space, musing as he went; for, to say the truth, he was -pulled different ways by different inclinations. Self-preservation, -was, of course, one great object, and that led him to desire immediate -escape; but yet there was another object, which he had much at heart, -and which would have bound him to remain. Nor was he a man who would -suffer the consideration of personal safety alone to make him abandon -what he considered a duty; but, as yet, he knew not fully what were -the risks, and what the probabilities; and, as the only means of -obtaining information, he, at length, after some consideration, -determined to have recourse to the woodman. Boyd was striding on, -however; and it cost the prelate two or three quick steps to overtake -him, so as to be able to speak in that low tone which he judged -necessary in the existing circumstances. - -"You think you can insure my safety," he said. - -"Beyond a doubt," replied the woodman, laconically. - -"But only, I suppose, by instant flight," said the prelate. - -"By flight before daylight," replied Boyd. - -"But if I tell you," continued the bishop, "that it is absolutely -necessary, for a great purpose I have in view, that I should remain in -this immediate neighbourhood for some few days, do you think it -possible for me to lie concealed here, till I receive the intelligence -I am seeking? Remember, I do not heed a little risk, so that my object -be attained." - -"That is brave," answered Boyd; "but yet 'tis difficult to weigh -nicely in the balance, for another man, the estimation of his own -life. If I knew what you sought, I could judge better. However, I will -say this: the risk were very great to stay, but yet such as any one of -courage would encounter for a great and noble object." - -"Then I will stay," replied the bishop, firmly. "My object is a great -and, I believe, a just and holy one, and life must not be weighed in -the balance against it." - -"Would that I knew what it is," said the woodman, "for methinks I -might show you that more may be gained by going than by staying. Of -that, however, anon. Let me see if I can divine your object." - -The bishop shook his head, saying-- - -"That is not possible. You are keen and shrewd, I see; but this you -could not discover by any means, without information from others." - -"I may have more information than you fancy," answered Boyd; "but at -all events you must tell me fairly if I am right. You were once -esteemed and promoted by Harry the Sixth. The house of Lancaster gave -your first patrons." - -The bishop winced a little-- - -"True," he said, "true!" - -"The house of Lancaster fell," continued the woodman; "and, after the -king's death, you continued in office under the opposite faction--I do -not blame you, for the cause seemed hopeless." - -"Nay, but hear me," said the bishop, in a louder tone than he had -hitherto used. "You speak somewhat authoritatively; and I must -explain." - -"I speak plain truth," replied the woodman. "At this hour of the -night, and under these grey boughs, we are upon a par. Elsewhere, it -is, Morton, Lord Bishop of Ely, and Boyd the woodman. But I have said, -I blame you not. What need of explanations?" - -"Yes, there is need," answered the bishop. "I had my motive for doing -as I have done, and that motive sufficient for my own conscience. As -you say, the cause of Lancaster had fallen, and hopelessly fallen. All -efforts in its favour could but produce more bloodshed, and protract a -desolating civil strife. By yielding to the conqueror, by giving him -the counsel of a christian man, not unversed in affairs of state, I -did believe--I do believe, that I could, and did, do more good than if -I had withdrawn from the counsels of the ruler of the country, and -joined with those who sought to throw him from his seat. I never -advised in those affairs where York and Lancaster opposed each other. -It was part of my compact with him, that I should take no share in -acts or councils against a family I once had served. Yet in my humble -way I could do good, in moderating the fury of men's passions, and the -rancour of party strife." - -"You plead, my lord, to an indictment I have never laid," replied the -woodman. "I blame you not. I never thought of blaming you. But hear me -on! You became attached to a prince who favoured you greatly--a man of -many high qualities, and also of many great vices; brave, courteous, -graceful, and good-humoured; lewd, idle, insincere, and cruel; a -consummate general, a short-seeing statesman, a bad king, a heartless -kinsman, a man of pleasant converse, and a devoted friend. You loved -him well; you loved his children better, and would not consent to -their murder." - -"Nay, nay, not their murder," cried the bishop; "no one ever ventured -to speak of their death. Even now, we know not that they are really -dead; but I believe it. If you had said, I would not be consenting to -their deprivation of their rights, you had been justified." - -"'Tis the same thing," answered the woodman; "deposed princes live not -long, where they have many friends in the realm they lose. However, -committed to the Tower, and then to the custody of Buckingham, you -found means to make of your jailor your friend, choosing dexterously a -moment of disappointment to turn him to your purposes. I speak now -only from hearsay; but, I am told, you two together framed a scheme -for choosing a new king from the race you first served, and uniting -him to the heiress of your second lord. It was a glorious and -well-devised plan, worthy of a great statesman--ay, and of a christian -prelate; for thereby you might hope to end for ever a strife which has -desolated England for half a century--but rash Buckingham lost all at -the first attempt. The scheme still lives however, I am told, though -one of the great schemers is no more. The other walks here beside me, -returned in secret to his native land, after a brief exile, and the -question is, for what? Money, perhaps, or arms, or friends, I may be -told. Yet he would linger still for some intelligence, even when his -life is staked! Has he heard of machinations going on in Britanny, for -the overthrow of all his plans, by the betrayal of him on whom their -success depends? Has he heard of secret negotiations between the -usurper and a feeble duke or his mercenary minister? Does he wish to -obtain the certainty of such things? and is he willing to stake his -life upon the chance of discovering the truth?" - -He paused as if for an answer; and the bishop, who had been buried in -deep thought--considering less the questions put and the tale told, -for all that was speedily digested, than the character of his -companion--replied at once-- - -"You are an extraordinary man, sir, and must speak from something more -sure than a mere guess." - -"Assuredly," replied the woodman, "I speak from calculation. He who, -in the calm retirement of a lowly station, removed afar from his -fellow men, has still a fair view of the deeds they do, can often, by -seeing things hidden from the eyes of those who are near the scene of -action, judge of the motives and the result, which the one part of -those engaged do not know, and the other do not perceive. I once stood -upon a high hill, while a battle raged at my feet, and could I have -directed, with the prospect of the whole before me, I could have made -either army win the field; for I saw what neither saw, and understood -what neither understood. Thus is it with a man who stands afar from -the troublous strife of human life, with his eye above the passions, -the prejudices, and the vanities which more or less interrupt each -man's vision on the wide plain of the world where the combat is going -on. But yet you have not answered my question. Have I divined rightly -or not?" - -The bishop paused for another instant, and then replied-- - -"Why should I not speak? My life is in your hand. I can trust no -greater thing than I have trusted. You are right. I have heard of -these machinations; and I have laid my plans for frustrating them, or -at least discovering them. My faithful servant, companion, and friend, -who has accompanied me in all my wanderings, has gone on with Sir -Charles Weinants even now; for that is the man who has been entrusted -with many a secret negotiation between England and Britanny. He, my -servant, will return in disguise to seek me at the abbey; and, if I -should go before he arrives, I carry no definite information with me." - -"You must go before he arrives," replied the woodman, "or 'tis likely -you will not go at all; but you shall not go bootless.--Now let us be -silent and cautious, for we are coming near more dangerous ground." - -The hint was not lost upon the bishop, who, though bold and resolute, -as I have shown, did not think it necessary to sport with life as a -thing of no value. While this conversation had been taking place, they -had traversed that more open space of forest ground, which has been -mentioned, and were approaching a thicker copse, where sturdy -underwood filled all the spaces between the larger trees. It seemed to -the bishop, in the dimness of the night, that there would be no -possibility of penetrating the vast mass of tangled thicket which rose -sweeping up the side of the hill before his eyes; but still the -woodman bent his step straight towards it, till at length he paused at -a spot where there seemed no possible entrance. - -"We are now coming near one of the wider roads of the wood," he said, -in a whisper; "and the little path by which I will lead you runs -within a hundred yards of it, for more than a mile. We must therefore -keep silent, and even let our footfalls be light." - -"If we have to force our way through all this brushwood," answered the -bishop in the same tone, "the noise will instantly betray the way we -take." - -"Fear not," replied Boyd, "only follow me close and steadily. Leaders -make bad followers, I know; but it must be so just now." - -Thus saying, he pushed aside some of the young ash trees, and held -them back with his strong arm, while the bishop came after. Three -steps were sufficient to bring them, through the thick screen, to the -end of a small path, not above three feet in width, but perfectly -clear and open. It was drawn in a line as straight as a bowstring, and -had probably been formed for the purposes of the chase; for arrow or -bolt sent along it could not fail to hit any object of large size, -such as a stag or fallow deer, at any point within shot. The bishop, -it is true, could not see all this, for the boughs were thick -overhead, though cleared away at the sides; and he followed slowly and -cautiously upon the woodman's steps, setting down his feet with that -sort of timid doubt which every one feels more or less when plunged in -utter darkness. - -Steadily and quietly the woodman walked on, seeming to see his way as -well in the deep night as he could have done in the full day; and at -length, after having proceeded, for what seemed to his companion much -more than one mile, he again stopped, where the path abruptly -terminated in another thicket. As no sign would have been effectual to -convey his meaning, in the profound darkness which reigned around, the -woodman was fain to whisper to his companion, to remain for a moment -where he stood, while an examination was made to ascertain whether the -great road was clear. He then forced his way forward through the -boughs; and a moment after the bishop heard the whining of a dog, -followed by the voice of the woodman, saying, "Down, Ban, down. Seek, -boy, seek. Is there a strange foot?" - -A short interval elapsed; and then was heard the sound of a low growl, -very close to the spot where the prelate himself was stationed. - -"Nay, that is a friend," said the woodman, in a low tone. "Come in, -Ban! To heel, good dog." - -The sound of the stout and stalwart form of his companion, pushing its -way once more through the brushwood, was then heard; and Boyd again -stood by the good prelate's side. - -"All is safe," he said; "and now you must force your way forward, at -the risk of tearing your gown. But never mind that, for you must not -travel in this attire;" and he led the way on. - -After a struggle of some difficulty with the brambles and thin shoots -of the ash which formed the copse, the bishop found himself in the -midst of a small open space, with the road running across it, and the -woodman's cottage on the other side. The door was open; and a faint -glare, as from a half-extinguished fire, came forth into the air, -showing the tall sinewy form of the woodman, and the gaunt outline of -his gigantic hound. The cottage soon received the whole party; and, -closing and barring the door, Boyd pointed to the threshold, saying to -the dog, "Down, Ban! Watch!" and immediately the obedient animal laid -himself across the door way, and remained with his head raised, his -ears erect, and his muzzle turned towards the entrance, as if -listening for the sound of approaching footsteps. - -"Now, reverend father and good lord," said Boyd, "we must not daily. -You must throw away that gown, and put on this common waggoner's -frock. You must cover the tonsure with this peasant's bonnet, and take -part in driving a load of wood a stage on the way to Litchfield. You -will be met with by those who will see you safely to the coast; -and you will have one with you who will in reality perform the -office--unworthy of your profession and name--which you must seem to -fulfil only for the sake of security. I will bring you the garments in -a moment; but first," he continued, "let me place in your hands this -letter, which you must conceal with the greatest care, and contrive to -convey it to the earl of Richmond. How it fell into my hands matters -not; but, if you run your eye over it, you will see that it contains -all the information for which you were inclined to wait.--Stay, I will -give you a light;" and, stirring the fire into a blaze, he lighted a -lamp at the flame. - -"Ha, from Landais, himself," exclaimed the bishop, as he read the -letter, "with a promise to arrest the earl and all his companions, as -soon as Richard's ambassador has arrived, and the money is paid!--The -money is paid! What may that mean?" - -"Can you not divine, good father?" asked the woodman. "In this good -world of ours, there is a price for everything. We are all merchants, -traders with what we make, or with what we possess. One man sells his -barony, another his honour, another his conscience, another his soul. -One acquires for himself power and sells the use of it, another gains -a reputation and trades on that, as others do on learning or on skill. -There is a difference of prices too; and the coin in which men require -payment is various. A kingly crown is the price which some demand; a -high office the price of others. The crosier or the triple crown is -one man's price; the smile of a fair lady is another's; the sordid -soul requires mere money; and this Landais, this Breton peasant, risen -to be the minister and ruler of his imbecile prince, sells the duke's -honour and his own for hard gold, Ha, ha, ha! He is quite right; for, -of all the things which go to purchase such commodities, gold is the -only solid permanent possession. What is honour, fame, power, or even -woman's smile, but the empty, transitory, visionary deceit of an hour. -Gold, gold, my lord bishop, untarnishable, persisting, ever-valuable -gold is the only proper payment, when honesty, honour, feeling, and -character are to be sold--Upon my life, I think so!--But there is the -letter. Let the duke have it; show him the toils that are around him; -and bid him break through before they close upon him." - -"This is important, indeed," said the bishop, who had been reading the -letter attentively; "and it shall be in the hands of the earl as soon -as it be possible to deliver it. One question, however, let me ask -you. Who, shall I tell the earl, has procured and sent to him this -most valuable information? for I do not affect to believe that you are -that which you seem to be." - -"Nothing is what it seems to be," replied the woodman; "no, nothing in -this world. It is a place of unreal things; but yet you might have -satisfied yourself at the abbey, that Boyd the woodman is a faithful -servant of the good abbess and nuns of St. Clare, and has been so long -enough for them to have great confidence in him. However," he -continued, in a somewhat changed tone, "tell the earl of Richmond, you -have had it from a man who may ask his reward hereafter; for we are -all mercenary. That reward shall neither be in gold, nor estates, nor -honours, nor titles; but, when the struggle before him is -accomplished, and he is successful, as he will be, then perchance Boyd -the woodman may ask a boon; and it shall be but one.--Now I bring you -your disguise;" and, passing through the door in the back of the room, -he disappeared for a moment or two, and then returned, loaded with -various pieces of apparel. The bishop smiled as he put them on; and -the transformation was certainly most complete, as the frock of the -carter was substituted for that of the monk, and the peasant's bonnet -took the place of the cowl. - -"We must get rid of your sandals, my lord," said the woodman; "and -that is the most difficult part of the matter; for my foot is well -nigh twice as large as yours, so that my boots will fit but ill." - -"We will manage it," answered the bishop, "for I will thrust my feet -in, sandals and all, and that will fill them up." - -The woodman laughed; but the plan seemed a good one, and was adopted. - -"Here is a little Venice mirror," said the woodman. "Now look at -yourself, my good lord. I will not ask, if your best friend would know -you, for dear friends always forget; but would your bitterest enemy -recognise you, though hatred has so long a memory?" - -"I do not think he would," answered the bishop, smiling at his own -appearance; "but yet I fear, if we should be met in the wood by any of -these people, and detained, they may discover me by the tonsure." - -"We will not be met," answered Boyd. "Now, follow me; but first stick -this axe into your girdle, which may serve, both as an ensign of your -new trade, and a means of defence." - -The woodman then led his companion through the door in the back of the -room into another large chamber behind. Thence, after locking the -door, he took his way through a shed, half filled with piles of -firewood; and then, proceeding through an orchard, surrounded on three -sides by the forest, he entered a little garden of pot-herbs, at the -farther end of which was a fence of rough-hewn oak. - -On approaching the paling, the bishop found himself standing on the -edge of a very steep bank, at the bottom of which he could catch the -glistening of a stream; and, after a warning to take good heed to his -footing, the woodman led him down a flight of steep steps, cut in the -bank, to a small path, which ran along by the side of the water. The -dell, which the stream had apparently channelled for itself, and which -was flanked by woody banks, varying from twenty to forty feet in -height, extended for nearly a mile through the wood, and at length -issued forth from the forest screen, at the edge of a rich and -well-cultivated tract of country. - -At this spot there was a bridge, over which ran one of the roads from -the abbey; but the little path, which the woodman and his companion -were following, passed under the bridge by the side of the river; and -Boyd continued to pursue it for two or three hundred yards farther. He -then ascended the bank, which had by this time become low and sloping, -and took his way across a field to the right, so as to join the road -at some distance from the bridge. A few yards in advance was seen a -lantern, and a wood-cart with its team of horses, and two men standing -by its side. To one of these the woodman spoke for a few moments in a -low voice; and then, turning to the other, he said, "You understand -your orders, David. Here is the man who is to go with you--Now, my -lord," he continued, in a whisper; "you had better get up on the front -of the waggon. I must here leave you; for I have the security of some -others to provide for." - -"I trust my fair guide from the abbey has met with no peril on her -return," said the bishop in a whisper. "It would be bitter to me -indeed if any evil befel her in consequence of her charity towards -me." - -"I trust not," said the woodman; "but yet I now find she could not -return to the abbey, and has taken refuge elsewhere. There were eyes -watching her she knew not of, and help at hand in case she needed it. -But I must go and provide for all this; for a fair girl like that -ought not to be trusted too long with a gay young lord. He seems a -good youth, 'tis true, though wild and rash enough." - -"Oh, he may be fully trusted," replied the prelate. "I will be his -sponsor, for he was brought up under my own eye, and I know every turn -of his mind. His rashness is but manner, and his light gaiety but the -sparkling of a spirit which has no dark thought or memory to make it -gloomy. If he is with her, she is safe enough; for he would neither -wrong her nor see her wronged." - -"Nevertheless, I must see to the safety of both," replied the woodman; -"so now farewell, and peace attend you--Stay, let me help you up." - -Thus saying, he aided the bishop to mount upon the front of the cart; -and at a crack of the waggoner's whip the team moved slowly on. - - - - -CHAPTER XIV. - - -The lighted brand which Chartley carried in his hand hardly remained -unextinguished till he and Iola had passed through the deep gateway -into the large hall; but there they found much more light than they -had expected, for the fire in the courtyard threw a broad glare over -the two large windows, and served, in some degree, to illuminate the -interior. It was one of those vast old halls, of which but few are now -remaining, though at that time no great baronial residence was without -one of them. Some indeed were of greater extent than the one I now -speak of; but few, if any, had a bolder sweep of arch than was -displayed by the vaulted roof which now covered the young nobleman and -his companion. Time had spared it; and ruin had not as yet laid any -hand upon it, so that the eye could roam through the framework of -richly carved oaken beams above, without detecting any flaw in the -slating which overspread the whole. No columns or obstructions of any -kind interrupted the sight from one end to the other; and, by the -flickering of the fire-light, Chartley could perceive two doors -opening out of the opposite end of the hall, one upon the right hand -and another upon the left. To the door upon the right, two or three -stone steps led up from the pavement; and he inquired at once, -remembering that Iola had boasted a thorough knowledge of the -building, if she could tell him whither that entrance led. - -"To the great square tower," she replied, "by a staircase in the -little turret that you might see at the side of the keep. It is very -narrow, but quite good and perfect still." - -"If the door be still there and sound," replied Chartley, "it will be -as good a place of refuge as any; for the mouth of a narrow staircase -is no bad spot for defence." - -"I think the door is there," replied Iola; "but we can soon see." - -"Thanks to the fire without, we can, sweet Iola," replied Chartley, -walking forward by her side; but, as he did so, his foot struck -against something lying on the pavement, which he sent rattling to the -other side of the hall. "Why, what is here?" he exclaimed, stooping -down. "Some one has been lighting a fire here, not very long ago. And -on my life here is a lamp too, seemingly not very long extinguished; -at all events, there is oil in it." - -"Oh yes, it is long ago," answered Iola, "as long ago as Christmas. I -remember all about it now. The nuns come up here every year, on the -morrow of Christmas, for there is still a mass kept up once a-year in -the chapel; and, the last time, sister Bridget left her lamp behind -her, which she brought to light the tapers on the altar. It may now -serve us in good stead; and I do not see why we should not light a -fire here too; for they do so every Christmas day, and heat a flagon -of Malvoisie, for the priest who says the mass." - -"Would to Heaven we had a flagon of Malvoisie to heat," replied Lord -Chartley, laughing. "I know few things better, on a cold night or in a -doubtful hour. Strange, sweet Iola, that so spiritual a thing as hope -should go up and down, burn more faintly or more brightly, for the -want or the possession of a few drops of grape juice." - -"It may be so with men," answered Iola; "but I do not think it is so -with women. Hope with me never burns brighter than in a fine clear -summer morning, when I hear the birds sing. There seems, in the sweet -sounds and in the sweet sights, a world of promises from a voice that -never lies." - -"Oh yes, but Malvoisie is good too," answered Chartley gaily, -"especially when summer mornings are not here, when no sweet bird -gives music, unless it be the hooting owl; and even Iola's eyes do not -afford light enough to show one this great thick door, the hinges of -which seem somewhat rusty." - -As he thus spoke, with his foot upon the second step, he swung the -heavy door backwards and forwards, with a grating sound, which seemed, -to make the old hall shake. - -"Come," he continued, "I will go light sister Bridget's lamp at the -fire, and see what good Ibn Ayoub is about. His watch has been -undisturbed, or we should have had his Arabic gutturals finding their -way into the hall, and echoing round and round as harshly as this -rusty hinge. You shall stay near the other door, till I return; but -mind, if there should be anything like a fray, you run up here and -shut yourself in. I am bound by knightly courtesy to take you back to -the abbey safe and sound; and so if I am killed you must take the task -upon yourself, in justice to my reputation." - -"Killed! Oh do not talk of such a thing!" exclaimed Iola. "I beseech -you, my noble lord, think not of risking life in such a case." - -"To protect and serve you," answered Chartley, "I would risk more than -life, sweet girl, if I had any thing more than life to lose. A man's -life is worth very little in these days; for there is so little -certainty of its continuing from one hour to another, that, good -faith, I am fain to shake my head every morning when I rise, to see -that it is upon my shoulders. Buckingham and Hastings, Vaughan, Grey, -and others, besides some hundreds more, would have done better to have -died in the field, or in defence of some fair lady, than to have -waited for the headsman's axe. I trust, whenever my hour comes, that -it will find me sword in hand. It is the only way I ever could make up -my mind to look upon death complacently. I suppose I am a sad coward, -for the thought of a sick bed, and feverish pillow, and lamentable -friends, and the grave doctor with a potion in his hand, frightens me -immensely. Nor is the axe much better for it usually has its dull -antecedents of trial, condemnation, gaping fools, and blocks and -scaffolds; whereas, on the battle field, or in the lists, lance to -lance, for a lady's honour, with stroke for stroke, and clanging -trumpets, and charging horse, and shouts of victory, the spirit -springs forth triumphant through the wounds of the flesh, and soars -away to glory, with the light of renown upon its wings." - -Iola sighed, she knew not why; but still the enthusiasm touched her, -and she felt a thrill run through her veins at his high words, which -made her almost fearful of the sensations which were creeping over her -heart. - -"You do not make me brave," she said; "and therefore I will come with -you under the arch, for I shall feel frightened if I lose sight of -you." - -"Oh, I will willingly live ever in your eyes," answered Chartley; "and -he who reaches you must first pass over my corpse." - -Iola started; for it is not to be supposed that, in that age, she, or -any one, was without superstition; and she read a sort of double sense -in his words, which seemed to her almost to have the force of -prophecy. She followed him closely, however, and only paused when she -again got sight of the courtyard, with the Arab still standing quietly -by the fire, upon which he had piled some more wood. - -"Has no one come?" demanded Chartley. "Have you heard the steps -again?" - -"I have heard the steps," answered the Arab; "but no one has come. -They seem to wander round and round the court; but the eye sees not -the walker. 'Tis most likely an Afrit, watching this old castle. There -may be treasures buried here." - -"There is a treasure hidden here," replied the young nobleman, -speaking to himself but thinking of Iola. "As to Afrits, they never -cross the sea. However, good Ibn Ayoub, as we have not men enough in -the garrison to man all the walls or guard all the gates, we will -withdraw into the great hall, light our fire there, and close the -door, though we cannot drop the portcullis. Bring as much of the -embers in as you can contrive to carry, without burning your garments, -and a quantity of wood, of which there seems a great store there in -the corner." - -"'Tis an old gate broken to pieces," said the Arab. "'Twill soon burn, -for it is as dry as camel's dung." - -Chartley waited and listened, while his slave performed the task he -had set him about; and then returning to Iola, after he had lighted -the lamp, he said-- - -"I can hear no sound. It was good Ibn Ayoub's fancy, I suppose, though -his ears are as sharp as those of a page in a fairy tale. He traced me -through the forest to-night, by the sound of my horse's feet, as -surely as a hound traces the deer by the scent.--Nay, cheer up, sweet -Iola, or we shall both grow sad and fanciful in this old pile. What -though we have no Malvoisie, there is better wine than ever flowed -from the grape, or was imprisoned in a bottle--the wine of the heart, -dear lady, of the heart unconscious of evil, the bright gay spirit, -the cheerful contentment with the event of the hour, the fearless -trust of the morrow. 'Tis but a little time weaken be together. Let us -make the moments pleasant as they fly; for to me they will fly all too -soon. Come, let us look round the hall, and see what it contains;" and -he held the lamp high up above his head, gazing round, but unable to -see the whole of the vast extent of the chamber. - -"Oh, there is nothing here," answered Iola. "It has been stripped of -every thing, long, long ago. But there are some things in the chambers -above, which the plunderers did not think it worth while to bring -down, I suppose--settles and stools, and a huge bed, which they say -was made in the room where it stands, and cannot pass the door." - -"Come, we will go and see them," cried Chartley. "Sitting on these -cold stones is not made for those delicate limbs; and perchance we may -find something which we can bring down. But first let the Arab light -the fire here; and then we will try and close the great door." - -No great difficulty occurred in either process; for the Arab -contrived, on two broad pieces of wood, to bring in a sufficient -quantity of embers speedily to kindle a large fire on the wide hearth -of the old hall, and the ponderous door, though it had one or two -large holes in it, and groaned most desperately at being forced to -turn upon its hinges--a process which it probably had not undergone -for more than half a century--nevertheless swung to easily enough, and -the heavy bolt was forced into the deep hole made for its reception in -the stone-work. - -When the young lord turned round, after aiding the Arab in this work, -the aspect that the hall presented was cheerful enough. The pile of -wood on the hearth had caught fire at once; and, mingled with the -smoke which was rushing up the wide chimney, were thick columns of -many coloured flame, which cast a warm and flickering glow over the -ancient stone walls and upon the painted glass of the windows, where -knights, and priests, and angels, and apostles, were grouped in -somewhat strange confusion. In the bright blaze of the fire, on the -opposite side of the hearth, stood the fair form of Iola, wrapped -indeed in the earl's surcoat, which veiled, without altogether -concealing, the beautiful outline of the figure. The long sable-lined -sleeves, trailing upon the ground, seemed to form a sort of train -behind her as she stood, while the beautiful neck and shoulders rose -from the furred collar, lightly fastened over her chest, and the fair -and speaking countenance, turned towards those who were closing the -door, was now shown in bright light, now cast into shadowy -indistinctness as the flame rose and fell. - -Chartley gazed at her, and thought it was the fairest sight he had -ever seen; and sensations rose up in his breast, which he took no -pains to master. He was young, free, trustful, full of happy -confidence in the future, and he said to himself--"Why not? Roam the -world over, can I find anything more lovely than she _is_, more -gentle, more sweet, more full of noble feelings and bright thoughts, -than she _seems_. In marriage one always cuts one's fate upon a die, -the fall of which is uncertain,--Why not?--But not now, not now," he -continued, the spirit of gentlemanly courtesy coming to guide him -instantly; "I must wait till she is free from danger, and then seek -her when she is safe and in the midst of her friends again. I must not -agitate or alarm her now." - -Though the resolution was a strong one, as well as a good one, it was -difficult to keep the feelings which were busy at his heart from -influencing his manner in some degree. Nor, to say truth, did he keep -them in such subjection. He would have liked very much to make her sit -beside him, and, with his arm cast around her, pillow her beautiful -head upon his bosom, while she took the repose so needful to her. He -would have liked to stand before that open hearth, with her hand -clasped in his, and their eyes fixed upon the faces and landscapes in -the fire, talking of love and dreaming of happy days. He did none of -these things; but yet there was a softness and a tenderness in his -manner and his tone, every now and then, which went thrilling through -Iola's young fresh heart, and creating dreads for herself and for him, -which might have shaken her terribly, had it not been for the gay and -sparkling spirit which broke forth in his conversation from time to -time, and carried away all heavier thoughts upon its wings. - -"Now come," he said, taking up the lamp after he had paused by her -side for a moment, "let us go up to these chambers above, and see if -we can find some seat or another, that we can bring down. You have -been walking and standing a long long while; and those beautiful -little feet will be sadly tired, unless we can discover some means of -resting them. I would rather walk a hundred miles than stand an hour. -I have always thought that a bird's life must be a sad wearisome one, -except when it is on the wing, to stand all day on a bare bough with -those thin shanks of its, and nothing to do but trim its feathers." - -"And sing its songs," said Iola, following him. "It must have its -consolation there." - -Chartley went first, lighting her by the way; and the stairs, narrow -and worn with many feet, soon afforded a fair excuse for taking her -hand to lead her up. When once it was in his, it was not easy to part -with it; and, as he held it neither very loosely nor very tightly, -there seemed no plea for withdrawing it, so that it remained where it -was, even after they had reached the top of the stairs, and had -entered a low-roofed stone corridor, and a large old-fashioned vaulted -chamber, which had probably been the state bedroom of the former -possessors of the castle. There, still, remained the great bedstead -which Iola had mentioned, probably of the reign of Edward III., formed -of dark black wood, apparently ebony, richly carved and inlaid with -ivory upon the lower cornices. The rich hangings, with which it had -been at one time adorned, had all been torn down and carried off with -the bedding; but the framework was so artificially joined, that no -means of removing it were apparent, without breaking it all to pieces; -and it is probable that the rude soldiers, who had sacked the castle, -were not disposed to burden themselves with any heavy booty. Marks on -the floor showed where three truckle beds had stood, but not one now -remained; and the only seat to be seen was a large chair, of the same -materials as the bed, with a footstool, from which the embroidery that -once covered it had been ripped. - -"These will do," cried Chartley. "The chair must have come up, and so -it can go down the stairs. Then we will set it by the fire; and it -shall be your throne, queen of the May, while I sit on the footstool -at your feet, and Ibn Ayoub crouches, as is his wont, upon the dry -hearth. But you must be my lamp-bearer, or I shall never get them -down;" and; giving the light to Iola, he raised the chair in his -strong arms. "It is as heavy as iron," he said, "but it shall come -down, if it were made of adamant." - -As he spoke, an extraordinary sort of sound, like a low groan, echoed -through the room, so clear and distinct, that there could be no doubt -their ears deceived them not. Iola started, and well, nigh dropped the -lamp, while Chartley set down the chair, and laid his hand upon his -sword. - -"It is some door, moving on its rusty hinges," he said, after -listening for a moment. "The wind is blowing it backwards and -forwards;" and taking up the chair again, he bore it into the -corridor, while Iola went before with the light, gazing timidly -around. - -Nothing occurred to disturb them however; and at length, though not -without difficulty, Chartley got the cumbrous seat down the narrow -stairs. The Arab was now standing in the midst of the hall, gazing -towards the door, with his naked scimitar in his hand. - -"What is the matter, son of Ayoub?" asked Chartley. "What have you -heard?" - -"Feet, and a groan," answered the Arab, with his dark eyes glaring in -the fire light. - -"Pooh, 'tis some rusty hinge," said Chartley, "and the feet of rats or -martins, driven to take shelter here by this long continued wintry -weather.--Seat yourself here, sweet Iola. Put your feet to the fire, -and dream of pleasant things, while I go up again and bring the -stool." - -Thus saying, he took the lamp from her hand, and re-ascended. He was -not long absent; but Iola listened anxiously for his returning step. -She felt safe while he was near her, but fearful the moment he was -away. - -Chartley was soon at her side again, and placing the stool close to -her feet, he seated himself thereon, and, leaning upon the arm of her -chair, gazed up into her face with a gay smile. - -"Now this is comfortable," he said. "We may pass the remaining hours -of night cheerfully enough here; and if you doze, sweet Iola, your -little head will but fall upon Chartley's shoulder, where it may rest -as securely, though not so softly, as on your own pillow in the abbey. -There, seat yourself there, Ibn Ayoub, in the nook of the chimney, or -your southern blood will be frozen in this cold northern night. Think -no more of groans and footfalls. These are all tricks of the -imagination--It is wonderful," he continued, turning to Iola, "what -wild fancies superstition will beget, ay, and sad as well as -wonderful, when one thinks of the horrible cruelties which reasonable -men will commit upon the strength of stories that a child should be -whipped for believing. When I was in Flanders a few years ago, a poor -woman was burned alive, in the public market place; and what do you -think was the crime of which she was accused?" - -"Nay, I know not," answered Iola; "but, it should be a terrible crime -indeed to draw down so terrible a punishment." - -"The tale is simply this," replied Chartley. "There was a poor woman -in one of the towns of Flanders, who gained her bread by the work of -her needle. One of those who employed her was the wife of the bailiff -of the black monks of that town; but when her work was done, the -bailiff and his wife refused to pay the wages promised, and, being -poor and distressed for money, she was naturally importunate. -Obtaining no redress, she applied to the curate of the village, where -she was born; for advice and assistance. It happened, however, that -the good man had been entangled in a lawsuit with the bailiff of the -monks, and whatever was the advice he gave to the poor woman, their -conference resulted in evil to both. The woman sent her daughter to -demand a part of that which was due, if she could not obtain the -whole; and the poor girl arriving, while the bailiff and his family -were at dinner, stood beside the table for some time, petitioning for -payment in vain. Several days after, one of the family was taken ill -and died. The disease, it would seem, was infectious; and before its -ravages ceased, the bailiff and two others were dead. The rest of the -family took it into their heads to accuse the poor woman, her -daughter, and the curate, of having bewitched them; and fools and -knaves enough were found to relate, and to believe, that the curate -had baptized a toad, and had administered to it the blessed sacrament, -at the instigation of the poor needlewoman. The toad, cut in four -pieces, was said to have been thrown under the table, where the -bailiff dined, by the woman's daughter; and upon this fabricated -charge, the unhappy creature was cast into prison, put to the torture, -and afterwards burned to ashes." - -Iola shuddered. - -"It is very horrible," she said, "and one can hardly believe that such -cruelty can exist in the breasts of human creatures." - -"Or such folly either," answered Chartley, "as to suppose that the -quarters of a baptized toad could bewitch to the death three innocent -people. If there be charms and periapts, they must be produced by -other means than that." - -"But do you doubt there are such things?" asked Iola. "We read of them -continually." - -"Ah, fair Iola," answered Chartley, "we read and hear of many a thing -which, tried by the strong tests of reason and religion, vanish away -like empty dreams. If we but ask ourselves, thinking for one moment of -the goodness and majesty of the Almighty, is it probable, is it -possible, that God can suffer such things, there will be found an -answer in our own hearts, which will banish all such imaginations." - -Iola mused; and Chartley, laughing at the grave subject he had -introduced, was proceeding to change it for some lighter topic, when -the Arab suddenly rose up from the spot where he had seated himself, -and lifted up his finger as a warning to listen. - -"I hear something move," he said, "and not far off. Hark! You will -hear." - -Even as he spoke, a strange kind of whining sound, and then a dull -groaning, came upon the air; and Chartley, starting up, exclaimed-- - -"This is indeed very strange." - -The sounds had ceased almost instantly; but a sort of long-drawn sigh -seemed to follow, and then a heavy rattling fall, as if a part of the -wall had rolled down. - -"Whatever that is," exclaimed Chartley, "it is in the court-yard. I -will go out and see." - -"Nay, nay, I beseech you," cried Iola, clinging to his arm, "do not, -dear lord, do not rush into needless danger. Let us go up to the rooms -above, and look forth from the windows there, as these are too high." - -"Stay, I can reach them by the chair," said Chartley; and, placing the -heavy seat underneath the window, the sill of which was a few inches -above his eyes, he mounted upon it and looked out in silence, while -Iola crept to his side, and raised her eyes towards his face. After -gazing for a few moments, Chartley held out his hand to her, -saying--"Come up hither beside me, sweet Iola, and see what is here. -Be not afraid. There is no danger." - -Iola gave him her hand, and, setting her light foot on the seat beside -him, rose till her eyes just came above the window sill. - -Her first impulse, had she not repressed it, when she obtained a view -through the dim small pane into the ruinous court, would have been to -utter a cry of terror and surprise; for certainly such were the -sensations which she felt. The fire which she and her companion had -left nearly extinguished had been relighted and piled up with fresh -wood, which was sending forth a volume of flame, higher than a man's -head; but the object which most struck the fair girl, as she gazed -forth, was a dark black-looking figure, sitting between the window and -the fire, crouched up in the position often assumed by an ape, and -seemingly holding its hands, to warm them at the blaze. The attire, as -far as it could be seen, which was very indistinctly, for the back -being turned towards them was in deep shadow, appeared to be quaint -and strange; and, rising straight up, though somewhat on the left side -of the head, appeared a long thin object like a horn. Chartley -continued gazing on this apparition in silence; but one glance was -enough for Iola; and, springing down, she covered her face with her -hand, saying in a low terrified voice-- - -"Oh, come down, come down!" - - - - -CHAPTER XV. - - -To the surprise of Iola, and certainly not less to that of good Ibn -Ayoub, though with Mahommedan gravity he gave no voice to his wonder, -Chartley burst into a violent fit of laughter. - -"Good Heaven, what is it?" exclaimed Iola, looking up; and at the same -moment Chartley sprang down from the chair, still laughing. - -"Forgive me, dear Iola," he said, taking her little hand and kissing -it, "but did you ever see the devil play on a bag-pipe?" - -"I never saw the devil at all," replied Iola, with a bewildered look; -"but I do not understand what you mean." - -"I mean, sweet friend, that this is evidently a piper, and, if I -mistake not much, 'tis man I saw in Tamworth this very morning and -yesterday also. He seemed the life and soul of the people round, a -merry happy-hearted fellow, whom they call Sam the Piper, with a -breast without guile, if one may judge by his face, which bespeaks him -no one's enemy but his own. Strange to say, he would drink neither -wine nor ale, though I offered him either, and though his face -betrayed many a potation past, if not present. Stay a while. I will go -out and see. If it be the man I mean, I will bring him in; for by all -means we will have the piper of our faction." - -"But are you sure that it is safe?" said Iola, timidly, but holding -his arm to detain him. - -"Oh, he will not betray us," exclaimed Chartley; "and besides we can -keep him here as long as we like." - -"But if it should prove to be the--the--" said Iola, adding, after a -moment's pause, "some evil being." - -Chartley laughed again; and gently putting his arm round her for a -single instant, he said-- - -"Fear not, Iola. With the angels in those eyes upon my side, I would -undertake to protect you against all the evil spirits in the -universe." - -Iola dropped the eyelids over the lustrous orbs below; and a blush -spread over her cheek like the crimson light of the setting sun. -Chartley instantly withdrew his arm; and repeating--"Fear not," he -opened the door and went out of the hall. - -A few words were then heard, spoken without; and a moment after he -re-entered, followed by Sam the Piper, with his beloved instrument -still tight under his arm. The good man's steps were not quite steady, -and certainly it was not natural feebleness that caused their -vacillation. Yet his eye was clear and bright; and his merry voice -seemed not in the least thickened by any liquor he might have imbibed. - -"Gad ye good night, lords and ladies, gad ye good night," he said, as -he entered, making a low obeisance, and producing at the same time a -lamentable squeak from his chanter. "Gad ye good night, tawny Moor. I -did not think to see your beautiful black face again for many a day. -Gad ye good night, fairest of ladies. To see you and his dark lordship -here, one would think one's self upon the confines of the upper and -the nether world, with angels on the one side and devils on the -other." - -"Meaning me for one, knave," said Chartley, giving him a good-humoured -shake. - -"Ah, mercy, mercy, noble sir," cried the piper in a pitiful tone. -"Shake me not; for my legs are not made of iron to-night, and my -stomach is as full as my bag when well blown up." - -"But your stomach has something stronger than air in it, if I mistake -not," said Chartley, laughing, "Come tell me, sirrah, how it happens -that you, who would take no strong drink yesterday, are well nigh -drunk tonight." - -"There's no contradiction in that," replied the man, "though I take no -liquor, liquor may overtake me; and if a man is overtaken in liquor, -the fault's in the liquor, not in him." - -"Still, if the fault's in the liquor, and the liquor in him, the fault -is in him," answered Chartley; "for learned doctors say that the thing -which contains another contains all that it contains." - -"But, then," replied the piper, who, like many of his class, was -exceedingly fond of chopping logic; "if the fault's in the liquor, and -the liquor in him, he cannot be in fault, for the thing that contains -cannot be in the thing contained. But marry, my good lord, the truth -is, I made a promise to good sister Alice at the convent, not to get -drunk at Tamworth fair, and gloriously I redeemed my word, and -gloriously I got drunk afterwards." - -While this dialogue had been proceeding, Iola stood by, marvelling -greatly at all she heard; for it was a scene altogether new to her, -and one of which, in her simplicity and ignorance of the world's ways, -she could have formed no conception. In her ramblings hither and -thither, which her good aunt had permitted pretty liberally, she might -indeed have seen, now and then, a drunken man, for alas, drunkenness -is a virtue of no particular age; but she had never met with the merry -reckless wine-bibber--one of the peculiar character of the good -piper--who has an excuse for his sins always ready, by which he does -not impose upon himself. - -After a few more words of the same kind, Chartley moved her chair for -her back to the fire, seated himself as before on the stool by her -side, and, while the Arab resumed his place, pointed to the opposite -side, saying to the piper, "There, sit you down, and tell us what -you've seen in the forest to-night." - -"Good faith, I have seen nothing," answered Sam, "for the night's -dark, and I have been somewhat dark too. After I had been to the abbey -for the morning dole, to show good sister Alice that I had kept my -word and was quite sober, I went away to the first tavern, and, with -all the pence I had collected in the fair, bought myself a stoup of -small wine, and a farthing's worth of sugar. Your lordship's groat -helped me wonderfully. Then, not liking the thought of a forcible -division of my property, I brought my wine up here, ensconced me in -the doorway of the little tower, and went on sipping till I fell -asleep. When I woke, it was black night; but there was still something -left in my wine-pot, and I set to again to gain courage, and to keep -out the cold. When I looked abroad, however, I soon saw that somebody -had lighted a fire in the court; and I crept round and round on the -walls, to see who it was, saying Paters and Aves all the time, and -thinking it might be the devil had done it; for he, it is said, keeps -up the best fire in his house of any man." - -Lord Chartley gave a meaning and merry glance to Iola; and Iola smiled -in return. - -"At length, seeing no one there," continued the piper, "I ventured -down into the court to warm myself, when suddenly your lordship -came upon me, and took me prisoner. I suppose it was my mad pipes -betrayed me, for, like a chattering wife, they are always talking -where they should not, unless I am careful to blow all the wind out -of the bag. However, I am never much afraid of robbers, plunderers, -camp-followers, or anything, for nobody meddles with a piper. You -cannot have more of a cat than her skin, nor of a piper than his -pipes, and neither the one nor the other is of much use to those who -do not know how to handle them." - -Chartley mused for a minute or two, and then said in a low tone to his -fair companion: - -"Do you not think, dear lady, that we could make use of this merry -ribald, to communicate our situation here to those who could give us -intelligence--ay, and even help in case of need. It is very sweet," he -continued, tenderly, "to sit here by your side, whiling away the -livelong hours of night, with one so fair and gentle. But I must not -forget your comfort in my own happiness. You have passed a weary and -an anxious night, and the sooner I can restore you to your friends, to -tranquillity and repose, the better. I must find some other moment," -he added rapidly, "brighter and calmer, to say more of myself--I think -that we may use this man, who will not be stopped by the soldiery, to -bear tidings of where you are----" - -"Oh yes," exclaimed Iola, "let him go as quickly as possible to the -abbey. My aunt will be sadly anxious about me." - -"I fear that would be dangerous," replied Chartley. "Rather let him go -to the woodman, tell him where we are, request him to send us -information and advice, and, if possible, to communicate to the -abbess, that you are quite safe. That I think is the best course to -pursue." - -"Perhaps it is," answered Iola; and then in a lower tone, she added, -"if you can quite trust to this man--he seems a libertine and a -drunkard." - -"You must not judge him too harshly," replied Chartley. "Most men, -especially of his class, have their peculiar vices; but, though it may -seem strange, from those vices you must not imply others of a -different class and character. Nay, more, there are faults which are -almost always accompanied by certain better qualities; and, from what -I know of the world, I am inclined to think, that this man's good -faith might be better trusted than that of many a sanctimonious friar -or smooth-spoken propriety-loving trader." - -"But is he fit?" asked Iola. "To me he seems hardly sober." - -"Oh fit enough," answered Chartley. "With daily tipplers a certain -portion of good wine is needful to sharpen their senses. That gives -them wit which takes away the wits of other men; and he is not likely -to find more drink in the forest unless he apply to the pure -stream.--Hark ye, good master piper. Tell me how much discretion is -left in that noddle of yours?" - -"Enough to prevent me running my head against a post, or leading -another into a ditch," answered the piper. "Now, good my lord, did I -not come down the stairs, from the little turret into the courtyard, -with every stone step as frail and moveable as the rounds of -ambition's ladder?" - -"And thou art trustworthy, methinks," said Chartley, in a musing tone. - -"Else have I drunk many a butt of good liquor to no purpose," replied -the piper. - -"How should that make thee trustworthy?" demanded the young lord. - -"Because the liquor was sound and honest, my lord," replied the piper; -"and as by this time it must have penetrated every part, I should be -sound and honest too. Moreover, it was best half drunk in secret, so -that secrecy's a part of my composition also." - -"Well, I will trust thee," replied Chartley, "and if thou wilt win a -gold angel, thou shalt have the means of doing so." - -"I will not debate upon the question long," said Sam, starting up. "I -am always ready to go upon a pilgrimage, and far readier to worship a -gold angel than a painted saint. Let me see, six stoups, at one -shilling and two pence the stoup, would be--soul of my body, there's -drink for a week in a gold angel." - -"There, there, cease your calculations," cried Chartley; "first win -the angel, and then use it discreetly afterwards." - -"So shall it be my better angel," said the piper, laughing, and -winking his eye. "But how is the celestial coin to be obtained, my -lord?" - -"Listen, and you shall hear," replied the young nobleman; "and be -serious now, for this is a matter of importance. Do you know Boyd, the -head woodman of the abbey?" - -"Do I know the great oak of Ashton?" exclaimed Sam. "Do I know the old -tower of Tamworth? Do I know anything that men frequenting this -neighbourhood see every day? Why, Boyd has given me both a beating and -a breakfast, at times, has made my back groan under a cudgel and under -a bacon. That last was a-good deed, for it saved my boy, who is now -over the sea with the Marquis of Dorset, from starving, when he was -hid away in Mount Sorel wood. Oh yes, we all know Boyd; the roughest -tongue, the hardest hand, the clearest eye, and the kindest heart in -the country." - -"Well then," said Chartley, "I wish you to find him out, and to tell -him for me, that I am here in the old castle, and have a lady with -me whom he wots of. My name I suppose you have learned from the -horse-boys, by your be-lording me so often; and he will divine who the -lady is; if you tell him that she is with me, and safe, but that we -dare not venture forth without further information, while these -soldiers are watching the wood. Let him send word to the lady's -friends that she is in security, but, above all, give us intelligence -and help if he can." - -"Soldiers watching the wood?" said the piper, in a tone of surprise. - -"Ay, even so," answered Chartley. "Thou, hast been like one of the -seven sleepers, my friend, and hast dozed, unconscious, while great -events were going on around thee. Half the houses on the abbey green -have been burned; and there are bands now upon all the great roads of -the wood. Does that frighten thee?" - -"Not a whit," cried the piper. "How should it frighten me? They could -but slash the sow's stomach under my arm, or my own; and neither the -one nor the other is worth the sharpening of a knife. They'll not harm -me; for all your mud-splashing, sheep-stealing, wench-kissing, -big-oathed, blaspheming horse troopers are fond of a minstrel; and I -will strike up my pipes when I come near the high road, to let them -know who I am. It may be a signal to old Boyd too, if he's wandering -through the wood, as most likely he is; for, like a ghost, he goes -about more by night than by day.--Burned half the houses on the abbey -green! That's serious. By my pipes, some necks'll be twisted for it, I -think." - -"I trust there will," answered Chartley; "but now set out upon your -errand, my good man, and when next you see me, my message being -delivered, claim of me a gold angel; but if you say a word of it to -any one else but Boyd himself, when next I see you, you shall have -another sort of payment." - -The piper laughed, and, giving the bag under his arm a squeeze, made -his pipes squeak in a very ludicrous manner. Then quitting the hall, -with a steadier step than that with which he had entered, he took his -way down through the wood which had often been his home during many a -warm summer night. Most of the paths were familiar to him; and -trudging on, he entered one of the broader ways, which led directly to -the high road that divided the forest into two unequal parts. After he -had gone on for about half a mile, he heard voices speaking, and -paused for an instant to consider. "I will be very drunk," he said to -himself. "Drunkenness is often as good a cloak as hypocrisy. All men -make their garments out of the skins of beasts, and the smoothest are -not always the thickest. Here go I then;" and, assuming a reeling and -unsteady step, he blew up the bag of his pipes, and soon, from the -various stops, produced a gay wild air, which would have been pretty -enough, but for the continued dull squeaking with which it was -accompanied. - -"Ha, who goes there?" cried a voice, a minute or two after, as he -emerged upon the road; and two mounted men were immediately by his -side. - -"Sam the piper, Sam the piper," he answered, in drunken accents. "And -who are you, jolly boys? What do you keep the king's highway for? Are -you looking to see if any man has dropped his purse? If so, I cry -shares; for by St. Dominic, there's nothing in mine. Now, marry, if a -fat priest were to fall in your way, I would rather be his mule -afterwards than before." - -"Why so, knave?" asked one of the men. - -"Marry, because he'd ride lighter, I've a notion," replied Sam. - -"Ha, say'st thou so, knave?" cried one of the men, lifting up his hand -to strike him; but the other interposed, saying-- - -"Nay, nay, 'tis Sam the piper. He has a fool's privilege, and means no -harm. Besides the man is drunk." - -"Come, tell me, knave," exclaimed the other, "whither thou hast been -wandering in the wood?" - -"Nay, Heaven knows," answered the piper, "wherever wine and destiny -led me. I have been asleep half the time; and since I woke, I have -been walking about in the cool, to clear my complexion, and get the -fumes of Tamworth fair out of my head; for I felt my knees weaker than -they ought to be, and a solemn sort of haziness of the wits, just such -as the preaching parson at Ashton must have after writing one of his -sermons, and his congregation do have after hearing one." - -The two soldiers laughed, and the fiercer of the two demanded-- - -"Did'st thou meet any man in the forest? - -"Not till I met your reverences," replied the piper. "I do not know -what any man should do here, unless it were to sleep off a tipsy fit, -lose his way, or pick up a purse, though the last has grown a rarity -since the wars came to an end. In former times men might gather purses -like blackberries upon every bush. That was when I was a soldier. But -that whorson poke with a pike I got at Barnet crippled my crupper -joint for life, and made me walk unsteady, which causes the poor fools -to say I am drunk, though all the world knows that I live like an -anchorite, eat herbs and roots, when I can get no flesh, and drink -pure water, when there's neither wine nor ale to be had. Give you good -den, my masters--What's the time o'day?" - -"Night, you drunken dolt," replied one of the men. "It's matins by -this time, but are you sure that you have not seen a man in a friar's -gown? If you lie to me, your ears won't be safe for the next month. - -"A man in a friar's gown?" said the piper with a hiccup, "ay, to be -sure I did." - -"When? Where?" cried the soldiers eagerly. - -"Why, in Tamworth, yesterday morning," answered the piper; and one of -the men, giving him a smart blow with his fist, told him to go on his -way, with no very commendatory valediction. - -Playing his part admirably well, the piper reeled down the road, -passing two other patroles, each of which stopped and interrogated -him, as the other men had done; somewhat more briefly, however, when -they found he had been stopped and questioned before. At length, -sitting down by the road side, as if his legs refused to carry him -farther, when two of his interrogators had just passed on, he waited -till they had gone to a little distance, and then plunged into the -wood. He soon forced his way on, to one of the lesser paths, but there -he stopped to consider, saying to himself--"How shall I make Boyd -hear, if he be roaming about? I'll go straight to his house; but this -forest is for all the world like a rabbit burrow; and I may be popping -out of one hole while he is popping into another, if I cannot contrive -to send some messenger to his ears, that will run a few hundred yards -on each side of me, at least. I must not try the pipes again, but I -will make the belling of a deer. If he hears that at this season of -the year, he will be sure to come up to see what's the matter." - -Accordingly, by placing his fingers after a fashion of his own upon -his lips, he contrived to produce a very accurate imitation of the -peculiar call of the deer at certain periods of the year; he continued -to emit these sounds from time to time, as he walked on, till at -length he heard a rustle in the brushwood near. - -"Now that's either a stag," he said to himself, "who, like a young -gallant of nineteen, makes love at all times and seasons, and I shall -have his horns in my stomach in a minute; or else it is Boyd or one of -his men, and I have hit the mark. I must risk the horns, I fancy." - -A moment after, a low voice said-- - -"Who goes there?" - -"Sam the piper," answered our good friend, "looking for what he cannot -find;" and the next moment, pushing through the shrubs, the tall and -powerful form of the woodman stood before him. - -"Ah, Sam," said Boyd, "what are you seeking, you drunken dog?" - -"Seeking you, master Boyd," answered Sam in a very different tone from -that in which he had addressed the soldiers. "I have news for you." - -"Ay, and what may that be?" demanded Boyd, with the utmost -indifference of manner; "some of the gossip of Tamworth I suppose. The -bailiff has beat his wife, or the mercer's daughter has gone off with -the smart apprentice; but I have other things to think of, master Sam, -to-night. Have you heard that the rough bands from Coleshill have -burnt the houses on the abbey green?" - -"Yes, I've heard of it," answered Sam; "and there has been a great -fire up at the old castle too." - -The woodman started. - -"At the old castle! What do you mean?" he exclaimed. "Who should burn -the old castle?" - -"I didn't say it had been burned," replied the piper. "I only said -that there was a great fire there; and very comfortable it was too, -considering the cold night and the good company." - -"Speak out, man! What do you mean?" demanded the woodman sternly. -"This is no time for fool's play." - -"I think not," answered the piper; "and so the plain truth is, that I -was ordered, by a certain young lord, to tell you, that a certain -young lady is up there safe with him and his tawny Moor, and that they -are afraid to stir out while the wood is watched by the soldiers, -without farther information and advice; and they look to you to give -both, and moreover to send intelligence to her friends, that she is -quite safe. There, I have delivered my message, better than ever -message was delivered before, for I have given it word for word, and -you may make the best of it." - -"Up there, with him alone throughout the night!" said the woodman, in -a tone of no very great approbation. "Yet he may be trusted, I -think--but still 'twere better not. What will the other feel, when he -hears of it?--No matter. It cannot be helped. There is nothing else to -be done." - -"Oh yes, there is," answered the piper; "if you could take them up a -stoup of wine, or a black jack of good strong beer, you would do more; -for, if I judge rightly, they have nothing to keep up the spirits, or -support the body; or amuse the time, unless it be making love, and -that is cold work without meat or drink." - -"Listen to this fool now!" said the woodman, "how he hits the nail -aright--I will go up myself." - -"They will not thank you if you come empty-handed," answered the -piper; "and you had better take me with you, to show you the way; for -the forest is changed since you last saw it, and there are living -trees on the high road, which stop up the paths, and move to and fro." - -"I understand thee, piper," answered the woodman. "Thou art a shrewd -knave with thine enigmas. Come along with me then. I will try to make -thee useful, for the first time in thy life." - -"Not useful!" said the piper, as the woodman moved on, taking a branch -of the path that led away to the right. "I am the most useful man in -the whole hundred. What would weddings be without me, or baptisms -either? How many quarrels do my sweet notes allay? How often do I make -peace between man and wife, by drowning her shrill voice by my -shriller notes, and outroaring him with my drone? Go to, you would -never get on without me--Useful, quotha? But where are you going, now? -This is not the way to the castle." - -"I am going to take thy sage advice," replied the woodman, "which on -ordinary occasions is not worth a groat. But we may as well carry up -some provisions; and for that purpose, as well as others, I must take -my cottage by the way. But now hold thy peace, man, for I would have -my thoughts clear." - -Thus saying, he strode on before, the piper following, till they -reached the broader road, which passed the cottage, and came in sight -of the little green. - -"Hist, hist," said the piper. "There is some one before the door. It -may be one of the soldiers who set fire to the houses." - -"Then I will cleave his skull with my axe," answered the woodman, -lightly; "but, 'tis only David. Go on--get thee into the house. I want -to speak, to him;" and striding forward, he approached the man, and -spoke a few words to him, of which the piper could only distinguish a -few, though he was all ears. - -"By half-past five," said the woodman, "as many as you can, and well -armed." - -"At the old castle?" asked the man. - -"Yes," answered the woodman, "under the gateway. The sky will be grey -by that time. Quarrel not with the soldiers, if you can help it. Say -you are but doing your needful service; but keep to it sturdily. Nay, -now I think of it, 'twere better to gather in the wood upon the hill -before the castle, especially if the soldiers follow you. There, begin -hewing down the young trees which we marked for cutting out, and run -up to the gate if you should hear my horn. Now away, and bring all you -can; but mind you send Adam up on his pony at once to the abbey." - -The man replied not, but ran away with a peculiarly quick but easy -trot; and Boyd entered the hut, where he found the piper standing very -near the door. He felt inclined to ask him why he had not gone in, -feeling sure that he had lingered to listen; but there, just before -him, stood the great deer-hound Ban, neither growling nor attempting -to seize the intruder, but gazing at him with a very fierce and -formidable expression of countenance, which might well daunt even a -stout heart in the breast of an unarmed man. The moment the dog saw -his master, however, he dropped his stiffened tail and raised ears; -and the woodman said, "Now, Sam, come you with me, and we will load -ourselves with food for the nonce. Here, sling this great bottle under -your right arm, to balance your bag-pipes, and take this loaf upon -your back. I will carry the rest; but I must leave my right hand free, -in case of need, to use my weapon." - -"But how am I to use my weapon, if you load me so?" asked the piper, -making his instrument give a squeak. - -"The less you use it the better," answered the woodman. - -"I say the same of all weapons," rejoined Sam. "But never mind, put on -the load, and let us go." - -Their arrangements were soon complete, and with a rapid pace they -gained once more the edge of the high roads and there paused under the -trees, to watch the proceedings of the enemy. The same vigilant patrol -was kept up; but the woodman marked it with a smile. - -"They think the person they seek must have taken refuge there," he -said in a whisper to his companion, "because he could not pass by the -hamlet or the lower road, without falling in with them; but if they -keep their parties so loose, I would pass a hundred men across, one by -one. I will go first, and you follow. He waited till the next couple -of soldiers had ridden slowly by, and then with a silent step crossed -to the opposite side of the road, where he paused for his companion; -but the poor piper had nearly brought himself into a dangerous -situation, by a hankering for the great bottle which hung under his -arm. In extracting, with his stout finger and thumb, the cork from the -mouth, he produced a sound loud enough to make two of the soldiers -stop, and then ride up to the spot; but his bagpipe once more saved -him; for squeezing the bag hard, and running his fingers over the -pipe, he produced a series of sounds only to be equalled by those of -two cats in a gutter; and one of the soldiers exclaimed: - -"It is only that drunken piper again. Cease your squalling, knave, or -I'll break your pate." - -The sound of the pipe instantly stopped; and the moment the two men -had gone on, the piper passed the road and joined his companion. The -rest of the way was speedily accomplished, and, a little before five, -the woodman approached the gates of the old castle. There he paused, -and, after a moment's thought, turned to his companion, saying: - -"It would be a great advantage to us, my good friend, Sam, if we could -get some information of the movements of these bands." - -"I'll undertake it," said the piper, whom success had made bold. "You -shall have tidings of any change in their dance. But you must give me -something to wet my mouth first, Master Boyd." - -"Well, well," answered the woodman, set the bottle to your lips, but -only drink to the peg, do you hear? Stay, I'll hold my hand upon it, -and stop you; for you must leave some for others, and not take too -much yourself. - -The piper took a deep draught, and was only stayed by his companion -snatching the bottle from him. Then followed a consultation as to what -was to be done in the many contingencies which might arise. It was -agreed that, if the piper did not return within half an hour after -day-break, the party in the castle should conclude he had been -detained by the soldiery; that if he came back without being followed, -and having remarked no movement of importance, he should play a low -and quiet air upon his instrument; while, on the contrary, if the -soldiers were at his heels, and danger menacing, he should come on -with a quick loud march. - -This being settled, he departed on his errand; and, passing over the -frail remains of the bridge, the woodman entered the great court, -where the embers of the fire were still gleaming in the ashes, like -the eyes of a wild beast through a thicket. Approaching the door of -the hall, he paused and listened, not knowing what might have occurred -since the wandering musician had quitted the place. But all was -silent; and, bending down his head a little, he looked forward into -the interior of the hall through one of the rifts which had been made -violently in the door at the former siege. The party were nearly in -the same position as when the piper had left them, the Arab crouching -upon the ground near the fire, which he seemed lately to have supplied -with wood, and his dark face resting on his darker hand. Chartley was -seated on the footstool, with his feet stretched towards the fire, and -his left side leaning against the arm of the chair. In the chair was -Iola as before, but her eyes were closed. Her hand rested upon -Chartley's arm; and her head drooped upon his shoulder, while her -balmy breath fanned his cheek, as she slept, tired out by emotions and -fatigues. - - - - -CHAPTER XVI. - - -In the course of this work I have mentioned several roads, the -direction of each of which will be very easily understood by those who -have an acquaintance with the locality, even in the present day. For -those who have not, however, I must add a few words of explanation. -One road, passing over the abbey green and between the houses on the -western side, descended the slope, on the top of which the buildings -stood, and then, running through the lower part of the wood, ascended -the higher hill, cutting straight across the heart of the forest. At -the bottom of the slope, however, just under the abbey, and at the -distance of, perhaps, a quarter of a mile, this road was entered by -another, which, coming through the lower ground from the hamlet at -Coleshill, and joining the valley and the stream at the distance of -about a mile from that place, followed all the meanders which the -little river chose to take, till it reached the spot I have mentioned. -At the point where the two roads met, Sir John Godscroft, after -distributing his men around the wood, fixed his temporary head -quarters, and took the measures which he thought necessary for -obtaining information. Two messengers were also sent off in haste in -different directions; and every peasant who could be brought in was -strictly interrogated, as well as the bailiff of the abbey, who was -subjected to more than one cross examination. The information of the -bailiff was peculiarly valuable, not so much because it was eagerly -and minutely given, both from motives of revenge and apprehension, as -because it afforded the most perfect and detailed account of every -part of the abbey, as far as it was known to the coward himself. From -it, Sir John Godscroft satisfied himself completely, first, that no -part of the abbey where a man could be concealed had escaped search, -and, secondly, that the fugitive must have taken refuge in that -portion of the forest lying to the right of the road as you ascended -the hill. With this conviction he established a line of patrols all -round the wood, too close, as he thought, for any man to pass -unnoticed, and then wrapping himself in his cloak, with a saddle for -his pillow, he gave himself up to sleep. Twice he woke during the -night, and, mounting his horse, rode at a rapid pace round the whole -of that part of the wood which he was watching so eagerly, and ever, -as he went, he encouraged the men on duty, by reminding them that a -reward of a thousand marks was promised for the capture of the bishop -of Ely. - -"Be vigilant till morning," he said, "and then we will search the -wood. In a few hundred acres like this, it is impossible he can -escape." - -He once more stretched himself on the ground, when it wanted about an -hour to dawn, and had slept for somewhat more than half an hour, when -he was roused by the return of one of his messengers. - -"Up into the saddle, Sir John, up into the saddle!" said the man; "Sir -William Catesby is at my heels with full five hundred spears. He rose -and mounted at once, as soon as he got your message; and his men say -that he has a warrant under the king's own hand for the arrest of the -bishop and several others." - -Godscroft looked somewhat grim at this intelligence, imagining, -perhaps that the reward he anticipated was likely to be snatched from -his grasp by another. What he might have done in these circumstances, -had there been time for deliberate thought and action, I cannot tell; -but before he could well shake off the effects of sleep, the head of -Catesby's troop came down from the green; and the crafty and -dissimulating minister of Richard sprang to the ground by his side. - -Catesby took Sir John Godscroft by the hand, and divining, perhaps, -what might be the impression produced by his coming, said in a loud -frank tone, "Sir John, you and your brave companions have done the -king good service, which will not be easily forgotten. Think not that -I come either to share or take away your reward, but simply as a loyal -subject and a good soldier, to do my duty to my prince and my country, -without any recompense whatever. We must have this traitor before noon -to-morrow." - -"That shall we, beyond doubt, Sir William," replied the other, while a -good number of the soldiers stood round and listened. "With the force -which you have brought, one body can surround the wood while the other -searches." - -"I must detach a considerable troop," replied Catesby, "to pursue the -party of Lord Chartley to Hinckley; for I have authority to attach -every one who has contributed in any degree to the escape of this -proclaimed traitor, the bishop of Ely." - -"Then I have a notion you must attach the abbess of St. Clare," said -Godscroft, "for she has certainly sheltered him and favoured his -evasion, since the young lord left him there." - -"How many men has Chartley with him?" demanded Catesby, not appearing -to notice the suggestion regarding the abbess. - -"Well nigh upon fifty," answered Godscroft, and then added, returning -to the point: "Had you not better secure the abbey first?" - -"No, no," answered Catesby; "we must not violate sanctuary, nor touch -the privileges of the church;" and, taking Godscroft's arm, he said in -a low voice, "What is the meaning of those houses I see burned upon -the green? I hope your men have not done it." - -"Good faith but they have," answered the other; "altogether contrary -to my orders though; and I have hanged several of them for their -pains." - -"Better keep this from the king's ears," said Catesby, musing. -"However, we must have the bishop, Sir John, and this young Lord -Chartley too, who has been clearly privy to Morton's visit to England, -which makes it a case of misprision of treason, for which disease the -axe is the only remedy I know." - -After uttering these bitter words in a somewhat jocose tone, he -returned to the head of his troop, and gave some orders, which -immediately caused a party of forty-eight or fifty men to ride on, -with all speed, upon the same road which had been taken the night -before by Chartley and his companions. The rest of Catesby's -dispositions were soon made; for, in order not to disappoint Sir John -Godscroft and his companions of their prey, he reserved to the regular -soldiers the simple task of guarding the wood, while it was searched -by Godscroft's band. Nothing, however, could be done till day-break, -beyond a few preliminary arrangements; and the rest of the time was -spent by the two leaders in walking up and down, and conversing over -the events in which they took an interest. - -"If we had but known an hour or two before," said Sir John Godscroft, -"we should have caught the bishop in the abbey. We lost no time by the -way, nor in setting out either; for we were not five minutes out of -the saddle after Sir Charles's messenger arrived. 'Tis marvellous he -did not send before; for his man tells me he was more than a whole day -in the bishop's company, and knew him from the first." - -"He could not help it," answered Catesby. "He wrote at once to the -king and to myself; but it was agreed on all hands that it would be -better for Weinants to follow him till he was lodged somewhere for the -night; for, if we had attempted to take him in Tamworth yesterday -morning--not having known soon enough to seize him in his bed--he -would have escaped to a certainty, in the confusion of the fair. Then -to catch him on the road would have been difficult, for Chartley's -party is large; and a very little resistance on their part would have -given him time to fly. No, no, Weinants is wonderfully shrewd and -discreet; and he calculated to a nicety, that this traitor prelate -would either stop here upon some pretence, while the rest rode on to -Hinckley, or go on with them to Hinckley, where he could be taken -without trouble.--Is not the sky turning somewhat greyer, think you?" - -"Methinks it is," replied the other. - -"Well then, let us to our work," said Catesby. "You must dismount your -men, and let two or three enter at the mouth of every path, pursuing -it through its whole track, till they meet somewhere in the centre of -the wood. Have you any one who knows the forest well?" - -"But few," replied the other. "However, I have remarked, when riding -by on the other road, the towers of an old castle rising up, about the -middle of this part which we have surrounded. They can all direct -their steps thither--" - -"Ay, and search the castle too," said Catesby. "He must have some one -to guide him, depend upon it. The ruin will be a good place for -refuge." - -"If we find him not at the first essay," responded the other, "we can -afterwards take the wood in separate portions, and beat through every -thicket, as we should for a stag." - -"Away then, away!" answered Catesby. "It will be well day before we -have commenced." - - - - -CHAPTER XVII. - - -The opening of the door of the hall startled Iola from her slumber; -and when she found where her head had been resting, a bright warm -blush spread over her fair face. Though the lamp was by this time -glimmering low, the form and face of the woodman were instantly -recognized by all the party in the hall; and an expression of gladness -came over all their faces. He was instantly assailed by many questions -which he could not answer; but he told all he knew; and one piece of -information was at all events satisfactory to both Chartley and Iola, -namely, that the bishop had escaped. "There," he continued, setting -down the food and wine which he carried, "there is something to -refresh you, young people, though good sooth, lady, I thought you were -by this time safe within the walls of the abbey, and would rather it -had been so." - -"And so would I," answered Iola, though, perhaps, her heart was at -that moment a little doubtful; "but it could not be, Boyd, for the -door in the cell was closed when I went back--I fancy the bishop had -let it slip from his hand--and I could not return to the abbey without -passing through the midst of the armed men. Then as I was hurrying -towards your cottage for shelter and protection, I met with this noble -Lord, who told me the soldiers were upon the road----" - -"And proved a pleasanter protector than an old woodman, I doubt not," -replied Boyd, with a cynical smile. - -Iola's face reddened again; but she replied frankly: "a noble, a kind, -and a generous one certainly, to whom I shall ever feel indebted." - -"One does not choose in a thunderstorm, my good friend," said -Chartley, in his usual gay tone, "whether one will take refuge in a -palace or a hermitage. The nearest place at hand is the best; and this -fair lady, I doubt not, cared not much whether it was a lord or a -woodman that came to her aid, so that she got help at need. But now -let us think of what is to be done. Morning will soon be here, and -some course of action must be determined." - -"What course do you propose?" asked Boyd. - -"Nay, I know not," answered Chartley. "The only thing I can think of -is to take the lady by the hand, and walk straight through these men -back to the abbey with her. They cannot prove me to be a bishop, nor -her either, I suppose." - -The woodman mused, and then, pointing to the provisions, he said, "Eat -and drink, eat and drink; you can do that and think too--They cannot -prove either of you to be the bishop. I wish you were anything so -good; but they can, perhaps, prove that you have, both of you, helped -the bishop; and they can make treason out of that, I doubt not, after -the proclamation. 'Tis an awkward case," he continued; "but if you -wait awhile, the piper will bring us intelligence. The best spies in -the world are pipers, horse-doctors, and mendicant friars. Perhaps the -tidings he brings may save you the trouble of decision." - -"That is always something gained," replied Chartley; "for decision is -sometimes the hardest work we have to do; but yet I think any plan may -be the best after all; for they can prove but little against me, and -nothing against this sweet lady. They can but suppose that I am -conducting her back to the abbey from some visit or expedition, with -which they have nought to do." - -"Ha!" exclaimed the woodman, sternly; "thou would'st not risk her name -and fair fame, young lord? Some visit! What, in this garb, without -coif, or veil, or mantle--on foot, with no attendants? No, no. If she -were to be met and questioned, she must e'en tell the truth, for to -suffer prison, or to lose life itself, were such a thing probable, -were but light to a taint upon her name." - -"And who would dare utter such an insinuation in my presence?" -exclaimed Chartley, his eye flashing at the thought. "By Heaven, if -any man did, I would cram it down his throat with my sword." - -"So hot!" said the woodman, with a laugh. "If they did not utter it in -your presence, they might utter it behind your back, which were as -bad. They might say--and how could you deny it?--that this lady had -been out of the abbey with you, roaming about no one knew whither, -without motive, without cause, without excuse. No, no! That will not -do. Lord Chartley cannot fight or frighten two hundred men; and they -will have a reason for all this, depend upon it. If not, they'll make -one. 'Tis most unlucky that I knew not of these events before, or I -would have found means to send to the abbey, and have the door from -the cell opened; but it is now too late, I fear, and, at all events, -we must wait for further intelligence. But fear not, lady, fear not. -We will find resources, which are many here, though not quite so -plentiful as the acorns on the trees." - -"I am not afraid," answered Iola. "The king, I do not think, would -kill me for guiding the bishop into the wood." - -"But he might prevent your marrying the man of your heart," answered -the woodman, with one of his grim smiles. - -Iola's colour rose a little; but she replied boldly: "I have no man of -my heart, Boyd; and therefore he could not do that either." - -Chartley's eye had turned rapidly to Iola's face, as the woodman -spoke, with an anxious and inquiring look; but her frank reply seemed -to relieve him, and he said, gaily: "Nevertheless, we must not risk -anything where there is risk to you, dear lady. Methinks you are one -who would find even gesses of silk or gold cord difficult to wear; and -we must give Richard no excuse for putting them on, if we can help -it." - -"Women are born to wear gesses of some kind or another, noble lord," -replied Iola; "and unhappy is the woman who cannot, content herself -with them; but I trust you will consult your own safety without -heeding mine." - -"Not I, in faith!" answered Chartley, in a determined tone. "I will -see you back to the abbey, and safe in the hands of your friends, come -what will--that is to say, if I have power to do so. They may take my -life or my liberty, but no man has power to make me break my word, or -fail in my devoir." - -"Well, well," said the woodman; "let us think of these things no more. -Come, take some bread, good friend," he continued, speaking to the -Arab. "There is salt in it, and you can e'en taste the bottle too, I -dare say, for you cannot tell what are the contents." - -He then leaned his head upon his hand, as he lay stretched out by the -fire, and seemed to fall asleep, while Iola and Chartley conversed in -low tones. But, though his eyes were closed, it was not with slumber; -and at length, after an hour or somewhat more had passed, he and the -Arab both started up at once, the woodman exclaiming: "Hark! there is -our messenger! Come forth with me, my lord, and meet him. Your trusty -infidel can stay and protect the lady." - -Chartley followed at once, and the woodman strode rapidly across the -court, but suddenly stopped, under the old arch of the gateway; and, -laying his hand upon Lord Chartley's arm, he said, in a low serious -tone: "Are you aware, my lord, that the Lady Iola St. Leger is -contracted in marriage to Arnold Lord Fulmer?" - -Chartley stood and gazed at him in silence, with his brow contracted -and his lip quivering. He could not or he would not reply, and the -woodman went on saying: "I am sorry, you did not know this. It should -have been told you before." - -"It should, indeed," replied Chartley; and then, after a pause, he -added: "But it matters not, she is not to blame. More than once I have -seen something hanging on her lips as if seeking utterance but afraid -to venture forth. If I had told her what was growing upon my heart, -she would have spoken." - -"Most likely," answered the woodman; "for hers is a heart very soon -seen through. 'Tis like a clear well, where one can trace all the -pebbles in the bottom--their shape, their colour, and if anything -obscures them, it is but a light ripple from a passing wind." - -"And yet she said but now that she had so love," replied Chartley, -moodily. - -"And that is true also," answered the woodman; "contracted in infancy, -how can she love a man she does not even recollect?" - -"Well, 'tis no matter," answered Chartley; "the vision of happiness -will pass away, and it is something to have served, protected, -comforted her. Hark, the man is drawing near with a low and solemn -dirge, as if we were all to be slain and buried ere noon. There is the -dawn too, coming in the east, if I mistake not. Let us go on, and stop -the piper's melancholy squeaking." - -"'Tis but a sign he is not followed," replied the woodman, detaining -him. "Let us stay here, we might miss him in some of the turnings; I -will whistle, however, to show him that we hear, and then perhaps he -will stop." - -But the inveterate piper droned on, till he was within sight of the -gates, and Chartley and the woodman went down to meet him. - -"What news, what news?" they both demanded, eagerly. - -"Bad tidings," answered the piper, shaking his head. "First, my lord, -you owe me a gold angel." - -"There are two," answered Chartley, sharply. "Now for the rest." - -"Why then, it is but this," answered Sam. "The rogue, Catesby, has -come down with five hundred horse. He has sent on fifty to arrest your -lordship at Hinckley, before you are out of bed in the morning. The -rest he keeps here to surround the wood, while good Sir John Godscroft -searches every nook and corner of it and the old castle and all, to -find the bishop and any one who may have aided in his escape from the -abbey. They will not leave any stone unturned, depend upon it; and -they swear by their beards, God bless them, that every one who has had -any hand in it is a foul traitor, worthy of gibbet and post." - -"Then are we in a strait indeed," exclaimed Chartley; "for with four -hundred and fifty men to watch the wood, and two hundred to search it, -there is but little chance of escape. I care not for myself, woodman, -if you can but save the lady without scaith or ill construction." - -"On my life 'tis that that puzzles me most," answered Boyd; "there may -be help at hand, for I have provided some. Your own people, too, will -be back soon, for I have sent for them; but we have no force to cope -with such a number." - -"Nay," answered Chartley; "give me but ten men, and I will break -through their line, at least so as to lodge the lady in the abbey. -Then as for my own fate, fall what may, I little care." - -"Ten men you can have," answered the woodman; "but tell me first, my -good lord, what you intend to do?" - -"Make at once for the nearest door of the abbey," replied Chartley. -"Their line must be thin around the wood, and on that side, perhaps, -the thinnest. Grant that we fall in with some of Catesby's men, as -most like we shall, we can make head against them for a time, and -insure the lady's reaching the gates of the abbey." - -"It were better," said Boyd, after thinking for a moment, "that while -one part keep the king's men engaged, two or three of the others carry -the lady quickly across the dell to the little gate. We have no other -chance that I see; but remember, my good lord, that you will be -overpowered and taken to a certainty." - -"What matters it?" exclaimed Chartley. "Even were one to act on mere -calculation, 'tis better to lose one than to lose two. Here we should -be both taken together, there we insure her escape. Let us waste no -more time in talking. How can we get the men?" - -The woodman threw his eye over the edge of the hill on which they were -standing, and replied, "You can have them at once." Then putting his -horn to his lips, he blew a low and peculiar note; and, in a moment -after, several men were seen running up from amongst the trees and -bushes which covered the descent. "We must lose no time," said the -woodman, "but forward with all speed, or we shall have the search -begun and be cut off. You bring the lady forth while I speak to the -men." - -Chartley turned to go; but, pausing suddenly, he said: "Remember, my -good friend, it is on you that I rely to bear the lady safe to the -abbey, while I engage the troopers. Think not on my safety for one -moment; but take some whom you can trust, and away with her at once. I -would fain have seen her safe myself, but it must not be. The dream is -at an end." - -The woodman gazed at him with a well-pleased smile, which made his -stern countenance look bright and sweet; and Chartley, without waiting -for further words, hurried away into the ruin. - -"There goes a nobleman indeed," said the woodman; and then, striding -forward, he met the men who were advancing upon the hill. - -"How many men have you got, David?" he continued, addressing the first -man who came up. - -"There are twelve of us," replied the man. "Three are wanting. I -suppose they have stopped them. Most of us slipped through unseen; and -the rest got through in different places, on telling their calling." - -A short consultation then ensued, which, brief as it was, had hardly -ceased when Chartley again came forth, bringing Iola with him. Her -face was pale, and she was evidently agitated and alarmed; but she did -not suffer fear or hesitation to embarrass in any degree the -proceedings of the others. Holding tight by Chartley's arm, with the -woodman and one of his men close behind them, and preceded and -followed by the rest, divided into two bodies, she was led on, through -one of the narrowest paths, down to the bottom of the little rise on -which the castle stood. They then crossed a somewhat wider road, -running by the bank and fountain I have mentioned before, and then -plunged again into the thicker part of the wood. Hardly had they done -so however, when the sound of a horn was heard upon the right; and, -turning back his head towards the woodman, Chartley said in a low -voice, "The hunt has begun." - -"Wary, wary," said the woodman. "Keep a sharp ear there in front, and -halt in time." - -With a somewhat slower step they walked on for a couple of hundred -yards further; and then the two men at the head of their little -column suddenly stopped, one of them holding up his hand as a signal -to those behind. The sun had not actually risen; but yet the grey -morning light had spread over the whole sky; and, though the path was -somewhat dark and gloomy from the thick copse on either side and the -manifold naked branches of the trees overhead, yet, the motions of -each of the little party could be seen by the rest. All stopped at once; -and a dead silence succeeded amongst themselves, through which, the -moment after, the sound of voices and footsteps could be heard, at the -distance of a few paces from them. The woodman laid his finger on his -lips and listened; but there was a smile upon his face which gave -courage to Iola, although the sounds seemed to be approaching fast. So -distinctly were they heard indeed, the moment after, that it seemed as -if a space of not more than five or six yards was left between the -fugitives and the searchers; and Iola clung closer to Chartley's arm, -and looked up in his face, as if asking what would come next. He did -not venture to offer any consolation, but by a look; and still the steps -and the voices came nearer. - -"'Tis as thick as a hay stack," one man was heard to say to another, -apparently close by. - -"And we are set to find a needle in the pottle of hay," replied his -companion. "Why he may lurk here without our finding him all day." - -"But if we find him we shall get a good reward," replied the first. - -"Do not reckon upon that, or you will cheat yourself," said his -companion, in a scoffing tone. "At the best, the reward is but a -thousand marks. Then Sir John takes two tenths, and the captain one -tenth, and the other head men two tenths more amongst them, so that -there are but five hundred marks left for two hundred men, even if -Catesby and his people were out of the way, and, depend upon it, -they'll share, so there wont be ten shillings a man." - -"What a head you have for reckoning," said the other; "but go on. I -wonder where, in hell's name, we are going. Can you see the castle?" - -"Not I," answered the other; "but we must follow this path to the end -any way. There goes the horn that is to lead us." - -And they seemed to proceed upon their way. - -"Now, forward," said the woodman, in a low voice; and moving rapidly -on, they came to a large holly bush which concealed the mouth of the -little foot track they were following from the very path which the -soldiers had taken. Cutting straight across it, they entered a -somewhat thinner and more open part of the wood, from which the castle -was occasionally visible, so that any one above could have seen them -without much difficulty; but it extended not far; and the danger was -soon past. - -"I know where wo are now," said Iola, in a whisper. "We are close to -the cell." - -"Hush!" said the woodman. "Hush!" But the unfortunate piper, who was -in the rear, stumbled over the root of a tree, and his pipes emitted a -melancholy groan. - -The woodman turned, and shook his fist at him; and the whole party -halted to listen. No sound was heard however; and turning away to the -right, by a gentle descent, they approached the spot where the forest -stretched furthest into the valley. - -"I will go forward and look out for a moment," said the woodman at -length, speaking to Chartley in a low voice. "As ill luck would have -it, I had the brushwood on the verge cut down last autumn, to prevent -rascals lurking about there, little thinking I should need it myself;" -and creeping on from bush to bush and tree to tree, he at length got a -view along the whole side of the wood fronting the slope on which the -abbey stood. It was no pleasant sight that he beheld; for, at a -distance of not more than a hundred and fifty yards apart, were -stationed horsemen, watching every point of the wood. With his right -shoulder resting against a tree, and secured on the left by a thick -holly, he remained for about a minute, carefully examining the -proceedings of the soldiery. They moved not from the spots at which -they had been placed; and the path which he had been hitherto -following, wandering in and out amongst the trees upon the slope, -passed at some little distance between two banks, till it reached the -bottom of the descent, not a hundred and fifty yards from the little -postern gate in the abbey wall, over which hung the bell profanely -called the Baby of St. Clare. - -Boyd saw at once, from the distance at which the men were stationed, -that there was a great chance of the whole party reaching the entrance -of the lane between the two banks, before more than two of the -soldiers could come up with them; and that if this were effected, Iola -at least was safe. - -After finishing his contemplation quietly, the woodman returned to his -party in the same manner as he had left them, taking perhaps even -greater precautions, and stooping almost to his knees, lest his great -height should carry his head above the bushes. When he reached the -others he commanded, rather than explained, saying-- - -"Now, all upon the path as fast as possible. Robin lead the way to the -passage between the banks. Then follow me, wherever I go, and guard me -from attack; let all the rest halt at the mouth of the lane, and keep -it with a strong hand against pursuers. Now on! Quick, quick!" - -The whole party rushed forward, except the piper, (who remained under -cover of the wood,) much in the same order as that in which they had -hitherto proceeded. Iola was hurried on in the midst, with her heart -beating and her head confused, yet gazing round from time to time, and -catching with a quick and hurried glance the scene which immediately -followed. She beheld the horsemen watching the forest; but, till she -had nearly reached the edge of the woodland, the party, which bore her -along amongst them, did not seem to attract any attention. Then, -however, the two soldiers on each side put spurs to their horses, with -a loud shout; and she felt herself instantly caught up in the arms of -the woodman, carried along with extraordinary swiftness down the -descent, and into the hollow between the two banks. - -Iola gazed back over her bearer's shoulder; and the last sight she saw -was the party of foresters occupying the mouth of the lane, while -three or four armed horsemen were galloping upon them; and Chartley, -with his drawn sword in his hand and the Arab beside him, stood a -little in advance of his companions, as if to meet the soldiers at -their first onset. They were close upon him; and, with a painful -shudder, she closed her eyes. When she opened them, the bank hid the -scene from her view; and the next moment she heard the bell of the -abbey ring sharply. - - - - -CHAPTER XVIII. - - -"Keep back, my men!" exclaimed Chartley, as the two first soldiers -rode down towards him; "keep back, or the peril be upon your own -heads." - -The foremost of the pursuing party put his horn to his lips, and blew -a loud long blast, drawing up his horse at the same time. - -"Yield you, yield you!" he exclaimed, turning then to the young -nobleman; "'tis vain to resist. We have men enough to take you all, -were you told ten times over." - -"Call your officer then!" cried Chartley, "I yield not to a churl." - -"Ay, and in the mean time the others escape," cried the man; "that -shall not be, by ----! Round, round! Over the banks," he continued, -straining his voice to the utmost, to reach the ears of his -companions, who were galloping down, "cut them off from the abbey!" - -But the others did not hear or understand the cry, and rode on towards -Chartley and the rest, whom they reached, just as Iola was borne to -the postern gate. - -"Hold back, sir!" shouted the young nobleman; "mark me, every one. I -resist not lawful authority! But marauders I will resist to the death. -Show me a warrant--bring me an officer, and I yield at once, but not -to men I know not. As to those who are gone to the abbey, you can -yourselves see that they are but a lady and two of the foresters to -guard her--" - -"The lady is safe within the gates, noble sir," said one of the -woodmen, speaking over his shoulder. - -"Thank God for that!" cried Chartley. - -"We are not seeking for women," answered the soldier, "but there are -two men there; and we will know who they are." - -"They are coming back. They are coming back," cried one of the men -from behind. - -The soldiers perceived the fact at the same moment; but their number -was now becoming so great, one horseman riding down after another, -that they seemed to meditate an attack upon the little pass which -Chartley defended; and some of them rode up the bank, to take the -party in the flank. - -"Mark you well, good men," said the young nobleman, raising his voice -to its highest tones; "if one stroke be struck, the consequences be -upon your own heads. I refuse not to surrender to a proper warrant, or -any officer of the king; but, as a peer of England, I will not give up -my sword to any simple soldier who asks it; and if I am attacked, I -will defend myself to the uttermost." - -"Halt, halt!" cried one of the men, who seemed to have some command -over the rest. "Ride away for Sir William Catesby. He is on the road -just round the corner." - -"There he comes, I think," cried another of the soldiers, pointing to -a large party, riding at a rapid rate down the course of the little -stream. - -"No no," exclaimed the other. "I know not who those are. Quick, spurs -to your horse, and away for Sir William. These may be companions we -shall not like. He is round the corner of the wood, I tell you." - -The man rode off at full speed; and the soldiers who were left drew -somewhat closer round the little party in the mouth of the lane, while -one or two were detached to the right and left, to cut off the woodman -and the man who had accompanied him, in case they endeavoured to -escape on either side. - -Boyd, however, confirmed to walk slowly and quietly down from the -abbey, towards the group he had left below, casting his eyes from one -side to the other, and marking all that was taking place, till at -length, descending between the banks again, the scene upon the open -ground was shut out from his eyes, and he could only see his own -foresters, Lord Chartley, and the party in front. - -A few steps brought him to the side of the young nobleman; and he -gazed at the ring of soldiers round the mouth of the lane, with a -smile, saying, - -"What do these gentlemen want?" and then added: "Here are your friends -and servants, coming down from Hinckley, my lord, so if you have a -mind to make a Thermopylæ of the lane, you may do it." - -"Not I," answered Chartley. "Would to God, most learned woodman, that -the time when Englishmen spill Englishmen's blood were at an end. -Besides, I could not make it a Thermopylæ, for the only Orientals on -the field are on my side;" and he glanced his eye to the good Arab, -who stood gazing upon the scene, with his arms folded on his chest, -apparently perfectly indifferent to all that was taking place, but -ready to strike whenever his master told him. - -While this brief conversation was going on, the troop which had been -seen coming down on the right approached nearer and nearer; and at the -same time a gentleman, followed by eight or ten horse, came up from -the road which entered the wood opposite to the abbey green, riding at -a light canter over the green sward that covered the hill side. The -two parties reached the end of the lane very nearly at the same -moment, Catesby indeed the first; and his shrewd, keen, plausible -countenance, notwithstanding the habitual command which he possessed -over its expressions, displayed some sort of trouble at seeing so -large a body of men, over whom he had no controul. - -"What is this, my good lord?" shouted Sir William Arden to Chartley, -before Catesby could speak. "We got news of your jeopardy, strangely -enough, and have come down at once to help you." - -"I have ordered my knave to bring you a furred dressing-gown, and a -bottle of essence of maydew," cried Sir Edward Hungerford, with a -light laugh; "supposing you must be cold, with your forest lodging, -and your complexion sadly touched with the frosty air. But what does -the magnanimous Sir William Catesby do, cantering abroad at this hour -of the morning? Beware of rheums, Sir William, beware of rheum! Don't -you know that the early morning air is evil for the eyes, and makes a -man short-breathed?" - -"This is no time for bantering, sirs," exclaimed Catesby. "Are you -prepared to resist the royal authority? If so, I have but to order one -blast upon a trumpet, and you will be surrounded by seven hundred -men." - -"We come to resist no lawful authority, but merely to help a friend," -replied Sir Wilhelm Arden; "and, in doing so, I care not whose head I -split, if it comes in my way." - -"Peace, peace, Arden," cried Chartley, "Let me answer him. What do you -want with me, Sir William? and why am I assailed by your men, if they -are yours, while peaceably pursuing my way?" - -"Pooh, pooh, my lord," answered Catesby. "Do not assume -unconsciousness. Where is the bishop? Will you give him up?--or, if -you like it better, the friar who rode with you from Tamworth -yesterday?" - -"As for a bishop," answered Chartley, laughing, "I know of no bishops; -and as for the friar, if he be a bishop, it is not my fault; I did not -make him one. Friar I found him, and friar I left him. He remained -behind, somewhat sick, at the abbey." - -"Then what do you here, my lord?" demanded Catesby, "tarrying behind -in the forest, while all your company have gone forward?" - -"In truth, good Sir William," answered the young nobleman; "whenever I -am brought to give an account of all my actions, you shall not be my -father confessor. I will have a more reverend man. But you have not -yet answered my question; why I am menaced here by these good -gentlemen in steel jackets?" - -"You shall have an answer presently," replied Catesby; and, stooping -down over his saddle bow, he conversed for a moment or two with one of -the men who had been first upon the ground, and who now stood -dismounted by his side. Then raising his head again, he said: "There -were three people left your company, my lord, a moment or two since. -Two have returned, I am told, and one was received into the abbey. Who -was that person?" - -"You must ask those who went with her," replied Chartley. "They have -known her longer than I have, and can answer better. My acquaintance -with her"--he added, as he saw a meaning smile come upon Sir Edward -Hungerford's lip--"my acquaintance with her has been very short, and -is very slight. I have acted as was my devoir towards a lady, and have -nought farther to say upon the subject." - -"Then your would have me believe it was a woman," rejoined Catesby. - -"Ay, was it, master," answered the woodman, standing forward and -speaking in a rough tone; "or rather, as the lord says, a lady. She -was sent out by the lady abbess, as the custom sometimes is, to the -cell of St. Magdalene, there upon the hill; and when she would have -gone back, she found the houses on the green in a flame, and all the -wood surrounded by your soldiers. I wish I had known it in time, and I -would have contrived to get her back again, in spite of all your -plundering thieves. But the king shall know of all you have done, if I -walk on foot to Leicester to tell him." - -"If it was a lady, pray, goodman, who was the lady?" demanded Sir -Edward Hungerford, laughing lightly. - -"What is that to you?" exclaimed the woodman, turning sharply upon -him. "If she was a lady, forsooth!--I might well say when I look at -you, 'If you are a man,' for of that there may be some doubt; but -nobody could look at her face, and ask if she were a lady." - -A low laugh ran round, which heightened the colour in Sir Edward -Hungerford's smooth cheek; but Catesby, after speaking again to the -man beside him in a low tone, fixed his eyes upon the woodman, and -demanded-- - -"Who are you, my good friend, who put yourself so forward?" - -"I am head woodman of the abbey," answered Boyd, "and master forester; -and by the charter of King Edward III. I am empowered to stop and turn -back, or apprehend and imprison, any one whom I may find roaming the -forest, except upon the public highway. I should have done so before -this hour, if I had had force enough; for we have more vagabonds in -the forest than I like. But I shall soon have bills and bows enough at -my back; for I have sent, to raise the country round. Such things as -have been done this night shall not happen within our meres, and go -unpunished;" and he crossed his arms upon his broad chest and gazed -sternly in Catesby's face. - -"Upon my life you are bold!" exclaimed Richard's favourite. "Do you -know to whom you are speaking?" - -"I neither know nor care," answered the woodman; "but I think I shall -be able to describe you pretty well to the king; for he will not -suffer you, nor any other leader of hired troops, to burn innocent -men's houses and spoil the property of the church." - -Catesby looked somewhat aghast; for the charge, he knew, put in such -terms, would not be very palatable to Richard. - -"I burned no houses, knave," he said, with a scoff. - -"'Tis the same thing if your men did," answered the woodman. "You are -all of one herd, that is clear." - -"Shall I strike the knave down, sir?" demanded one of the fierce -soldiery. - -"I should like to see thee try," said the woodman, drawing his -tremendous axe from his girdle; but Catesby exclaimed-- - -"Hold, hold!" and Chartley exclaimed-- - -"Well, sir, an answer to my question. We are but wasting time, and -risking feud, by longer debating these matters here. For your conduct -to others this night, for the destruction of the property of the -church, and the wrongs inflicted on innocent men, either by your -orders or with your connivance, you will of course be made responsible -elsewhere; but I demand to know why I, a peer of England, going in -peaceable guise, without weapons of war; am pursued and surrounded, I -may say, by your soldiery?" - -"That question is soon answered," replied Catesby. "I might indeed -say, that no one could tell that you were a peer of England when you -were found a-foot walking with foresters, and such like people, below -your own degree. But in one word, my lord, I am ordered to apprehend -your lordship, for aiding and comforting a proclaimed traitor. Do you -surrender to the king's authority? Or must I summon a sufficient force -to compel obedience?" - -"I surrender at once, of course, to the king's authority," answered -Chartley; "and knowing, Sir William, your place and favour with the -king, will not even demand to see the warrant. But I trust my servants -will be allowed to ride with me to Leicester, where I appeal the -immediate consideration of my case to the king himself." - -"So be it, my lord," answered Catesby; "but if I might advise for your -own good, you would not bring so many men with badges of livery under -the king's eyes; for you know the law upon that subject, and that such -displays are strictly prohibited." - -Chartley laughed. - -"Good faith!" he said; "I am not the thoughtless boy you take me for, -Sir William. I have a license under king Edward's hand for these same -badges and liveries, which has never been revoked. Methinks it will -pass good even now." - -"Be it as you will, my lord," replied Catesby. "I advised you but as a -friend. Nay, more; if you can find any other gentleman to be bound -with you for your appearance at Leicester, within three days, I will -take your lordship's parole to deliver yourself in that city to the -king's will. I do not wish to pass any indignity upon a gentleman of -worth, though lacking somewhat of discretion mayhap." - -"I'll be his bail," cried Sir William Arden at once. "I am a fool -perhaps for my pains, as he indeed is a fool who is bail for any man; -but the lad won't break his word, although leg bail is the best bail -that he could have, or any one indeed, in this good kingdom of -England, where accusations are received as proofs, and have been for -the last thirty years, whichever house was on the throne. There was -nought to choose between them in that respect." - -"You should be more careful, Sir William," answered Catesby with a -grim smile. "The house which is on the throne is always the best. -However, I take your pledge, and that of Lord Chartley; and now I will -back to my post, taking it for granted, my lord, that this was really -a woman who was with you, and that, even in such a case as this, a lie -would not sully your lips." - -"I am not a politician, Sir William," replied Chartley, somewhat -bitterly; "so I have no excuse for lying. The person who just now -entered the abbey was a lady, seemingly not twenty years of age; and I -pledge you my word of honour, that her chin never bore a beard, nor -her head received the tonsure, so that she is assuredly neither man, -friar, nor bishop." - -"Give you good day, then," said Catesby; and turning his horse he rode -away, followed by the soldiers, who resumed their post around the -wood. - -"There goes a knave," said the woodman aloud, as Richard's favourite -trotted down the slope. "Had it not needed two or three men to guard -you, my good lord, your parole would have been little worth in the -Cat's eyes." - -"On my life, Boyd, you had better beware of him," rejoined Lord -Chartley. "He does not easily forgive; and you have spoken somewhat -plainly." - -"Humph! I have not been the only one to speak my mind this day," said -the woodman. "I did not think there was anything in the shape of a -lord, at the court of England, who would venture to show such scorn -for a minion--unless he was on the eve of falling." - -"No hope of such a thing in this case," answered Chartley; "he is too -serviceable to be dispensed with. But now I must have my horse. By -good fortune, 'tis on the other side of the wood; so they will let us -get it without taking it for a bishop." - -"And who is this bishop they are seeking?" asked Sir William Arden, as -he walked down on foot at Chartley's side, by a somewhat circuitous -path, to the cottage of the woodman. - -"The only bishop whose name is proclaimed," replied Chartley, avoiding -a direct answer to the question; "is Doctor Morton, bishop of Ely; but -I trust and believe that he is far out of their reach. However, I -would have you take care, Boyd," he continued, turning towards the -woodman, who was following; "and, if you should meet with the bishop -in the wood, give him no help; for these men will visit it savagely on -the head of any one against whom they can prove the having succoured -him--I would fain hear how this hunting ends," he continued; "for I -have seldom seen such a curious chase. Can you not give me intimation -at Leicester?" - -"And pray add," continued Sir Edward Hungerford, in a low tone, "some -information concerning the sweet Lady Iola. Her beautiful eyes," he -added, as Chartley turned somewhat sharply towards him, "have haunted -me all night, like a melodious song which dwells in our ears for days -after we have heard it." - -"Or a bottle of essence," said the woodman, "that makes a man smell -like a civet cat for months after it is expended." - -"Drown me all puppies," exclaimed Arden. "A young cat that goes -straying about with her eyes but half open, and her weak legs far -apart, is more tolerable than one of these orange flowers of the -court, with their smart sayings, which they mistake for wit;" and -imitating, not amiss, the peculiar mode of talking of Hungerford and -his class, he went on, "Gad ye good den, my noble lord! Fore Heaven, a -pretty suit, and well devised, but that the exceeding quaintness of -the trimming is worthy of a more marvellous furniture.--Pshaw! I am -sick of their mewing; and if we have not a war soon, to mow down some -of these weeds, the land will be full of nettles." - -"Take care they don't sting, Arden," said Sir Edward Hungerford. - -The other knight looked at him from head to foot, and walked on after -Lord Chartley, with a slight smile curling his lip. - -The party met no impediment on the way to the woodman's cottage. -Chartley's horses were soon brought forth; and after lingering for a -moment, to add a private word or two to Boyd, the young nobleman -prepared to mount. Before he did so, however, he took the woodman's -hand and shook it warmly, much to the surprise of Sir Edward -Hungerford; and then the whole company resumed the road to Hinckley, -passing a number of the patroles round the wood as they went, and -hearing shouts and cries and notes upon the horn, which only called a -smile upon Chartley's lips. - -When they had passed the wood, however, and were riding on through the -open country, Sir Edward Hungerford fell somewhat behind, to talk with -a household tailor, whom he entertained, upon the device of a new sort -of hose, which he intended to introduce; while Sir William Arden, -naturally a taciturn man, rode on by Chartley's side, almost in -silence. The young nobleman himself was now very grave. The excitement -was over. All that had passed that night belonged to the past. It was -a picture hung up in the gallery of memory; and he looked upon the -various images it contained as one does upon the portraits of dead -friends. He saw Iola, as she had sat beside him at the abbey in gay -security. He felt the trembling of her hand upon his arm, in the hour -of danger. Her cheek seemed to rest upon his shoulder again, as it had -done, when, weary and exhausted, she had slept overpowered by slumber. -Her balmy breath seemed once more to fan his cheek. The time since he -had first known her was but very short; but yet he felt that it had -been too long for him. That, in that brief space, things had -been born that die not--new sensations--immortal offspring of the -heart--children of fate that live along with us on earth, and go with -us to immortality. - -"She cannot be mine," he thought. "She is plighted to another whom she -knows not--loves not." He would fain have recalled those hours. He -would fain have wiped out the sensations they had produced. He -resolved to try--to think of other things--to forget--to be what he -had been before. Vain, vain hopes and expectations! Alas, he sought an -impossibility. No one can ever be what he was before. Each act of life -changes the man--takes something, gives something--leaves him -different from what he was. He may alter; but he cannot go back. What -he was is a memory, and never can be a reality again; and more -especially is this the case with the light careless heart of youth. -Pluck a ripe plum from the tree--touch it as tenderly as you will; the -bloom is wiped away; and, try all the arts you can, you can never -restore that bloom again, nor give the fruit the hue it had before. -Happy those buoyant and successful spirits who can look onward at -every step, from life's commencement to its close, and are never -called upon to sit down by the weary way side of being, and long for -the fair fields and meadows they have passed, never to behold again. - - - - -CHAPTER XIX. - - -Clouds roll over the sky; the large rain drops descend; the lightning -flashes; the thunder rolls along the verge of heaven; darkness and -tempests rage above; and ruin and desolation seem to reign below. They -have their hour, and pass away. Often the clouds roll on to some -distant bourn, leaving the sky clear, the sun smiling brighter than -ever, the blades of grass gemmed with the diamond drops, the earth all -fresh, and the birds all singing. But there are other times, when, -although the fierceness of the tempest is over, the streaming deluge -suspended, the torch of the lightning quenched, and the angry voice of -the thunder hushed, a heavy boding cloud remains behind, hiding the -brightness of the face of heaven, and threatening fresh storms to -come. - -Thus it is too with the human heart. In the spring-tide of our -life--in those gay early years, when the merry rays of the sunshiny -heart dance gleam-like with the storms and clouds of life, the tempest -of passion or of sorrow is soon swept away, and the universe of the -heart resumes its brightness. But there comes a time when the storm -falling upon life's decline--I speak not of mere years, but at the -epoch of each man's destined change--the spirit cannot cast off the -shadow of the cloud, even when the eyes are dried, and the lightning -pang of anguish or the terror speaking thunder of retribution are -staid for the hour. - -Thus was it with Richard. His son, his only son, his beloved, was -gone. The fountain of hope and expectation was dried up. For him, and -for his future, destiny, he had laboured, and thought, and striven, -and calculated, and sinned, and offended God and man, and won a dark -and fearful renown, tainted a mother's fame, violated trust and -friendship, usurped the patrimony of the orphan, spurned every tie of -nature and affection, trampled upon gratitude, and imbrued his hands -in blood. Strange that the brightest and the purest of human -affections, when mingled in our nature with the darker and the more -violent passions, instead of mitigating their influence, should prompt -to deeper crimes, and plunge us into more overwhelming guiltiness--as -the most precious medicines, mingled chemically with some foreign -matter, will, is a moment, become the most dangerous poisons. He was -gone; the object of all his fond imaginings, his daily labours and his -nightly thoughts. The hopes that had been built up upon his life were -all thrown down. The line between the present and the future was -snapped asunder. The pang had been suffered--the terrible pang of the -rending of a strong manly heart from its closest ties and its dearest -expectations. The effect had been awful, terrible. It had for a time -unseated reason from a throne where she had ruled with sway almost -despotic. But that pang had been conquered. Reason had regained her -rule. The tempest of the heart had passed away, and had left the sky -calm--but not bright. No! Dull, dull, heavy, leaden, threatening, was -the aspect of all around. The pure light of day was extinguished, -never to dawn for him again; and all the light that was left came from -the dull torch of ambition. - -Richard sat in the room of the royal lodging at Leicester, where we -have before seen him. There was a gentleman by his side, with head -slightly bent, reading, from a long slip of paper, some notes of all -the different pieces of intelligence which had been received during -the day. - -"What next?" demanded the king, in a dull and almost inattentive, -tone. - -"The letter which your grace proposed to write to your royal -sister-in-law," replied the gentleman. - -Richard started, "Ay," he said, thoughtfully; "ay, it must be done;" -and, rubbing his temple gently with the fingers of his right hand, he -seemed to give himself up to meditation. After a short space of time, -it would appear, he partly forgot, if I may use such a term, the -presence of another; and he murmured words to himself, which he might -not have done had he been acutely conscious that they were overheard, -"Shall the son of Clarence succeed?" he asked himself, in a long -gloomy tone; "for him have I done all these things?--To make him King -of England? That fair inheritance, for which I have toiled and -laboured, and thought, and desired, and watched by night, and acted by -day, shall it be his?--No, no! And yet there is a fate that overrules -man's policy, and thwarts his best-devised schemes.--No child for me, -if Ann lives; and it all goes to another race.--What then?" And he -paused, and thought once more very deeply. - -The busy movements of his mind during that reverie who shall -scrutinize? But at length he said: "No, no! She was the love of my -youth, the partner of my early cares and joys.--No! Grief will soon do -its work on her. She is of that soft and fragile-hearted nature, which -crumbles at the first rude touch, like the brittle sandstone. I am of -granite, which the chisel may mark, but which no saw will touch--hard -and perdurable. We must bide the event. The canker is on the frail -flower, and it will fall soon enough! In the mean time, 'tis well to -be prepared;" and, turning to the man beside him, he added, "I will -write that letter with my own hand. Have a post ready by six this -evening. What next?" - -"The young Lord Chartley waits your grace's will, in ward," replied -the secretary; and, seeing that Richard seemed plunged in thought -again, he added, "suspected of aiding the escape of Morton, bishop of -Ely." - -"Ha!" cried Richard, with an angry start; "he shall--" But he paused -suddenly, laid his hand upon his brow for a moment or two, and then -added in a calmer tone, "No. He is a foolish boy. This man was his -tutor. We love those who were the guides and conductors of our youth. -But I will make sure of him. Give me those letters--No, not those, the -packet on the left;" and, having received what he demanded, he -examined the despatches carefully, and then said, "What next?" - -The secretary looked at the paper in his hand, and then replied: - -"Arnold Lord Calverly craves your highness's gracious sanction, to -complete the marriage already contracted between his niece, the Lady -Lola St. Leger, and the Lord Fulmer. He craves audience on this score, -and is, I believe, even now in the great hall below." - -Richard meditated for a moment or two. - -"He is a stanch and steady friend," he said at length; "yet, this Lord -Fulmer--I love him not. I doubt him. He is a man of high-toned -fantasies, and grave imaginations--moveable with the wind of passion, -and notions of what he believes fine thoughts. I love not your men of -emotions. Give me the man of firm calm deeds, who sets a mighty object -before him, and cleaves a way to it through all impediments. The -inheritance is large; his own power great; united, they may be -dangerous. But we must temporise and see. 'Tis wise to keep -expectation on the wing. When we have given all, we have no more to -give; and, by St. Paul, gratitude is a poor bond, compared with -desire.--But I must see the Lord Calverly. Go, give him admission. We -will hear the rest afterwards." - -The secretary departed; and Richard remained with his brow resting on -his hand, till a door again opened, and a stout elderly gentleman was -admitted, with an expression of countenance indicating no slight -opinion of his own importance, but no very great profundity of -intellect. The king instantly rose, and took him by the hand. - -"Welcome, welcome, my noble lord," he said. "You have come to me at a -moment of deep grief and pain; but your presence is none the less -acceptable, as, indeed, what can afford greater consolation than the -society of a true friend?" - -The cordiality with which he was received might have surprised any -other person than Arnold Lord Calverly; for Richard was not a man of a -cordial nature, and displayed little warmth of manner to any but his -mere familiar tools, or to those whom he intended to deceive or to -destroy. The worthy lord, how, ever, was quite satisfied that he -deserved the utmost kindness and consideration; and taking it for -granted that the monarch really received him joyfully, he proceeded to -comfort him with such common places as men of inferior intellect -mistake for the dicta of wisdom. - -"Alack, my lord the king," he said, "you have indeed suffered a great -deprivation. But, you know, this is merely to share the common fate of -all men, from which the king is no more exempt than the peasant. Death -respects not the young or the old, the high or the low. We are all -subject to his power; and, perhaps, those he takes soonest are the -happiest. I would have your highness consider what a troublous life it -is that man leads here below; and how many sorrows the young prince, -God rest his soul, may have escaped; and, in your own knowledge of -life, you will find consolation for his having lost it." - -"True, very true," replied Richard, with a grave and thoughtful look. -"That is sound philosophy, my dear lord, as indeed is all that you say -on all occasions. Yet one cannot help regretting, if not the poor -boy's release from earthly suffering, at least the extinction of one's -own succession, and especially where a crown is a part of the -heritage." - -"Nay, now, sire, in this you judge not altogether wisely," replied the -old nobleman. "Pardon my boldness in so speaking. But why should a man -desire to transmit his possessions to a child of his own, rather than -to the child of any other man. I speak in the abstract, mark me--I -speak in the abstract--for, if a man have children of his own, of -course he would rather that they succeeded. That's very natural. But -if he have none, why should he desire posterity? His eyes must be -closed before his child can take the succession. He cannot therefore -see the enjoyment of it by his child." - -"Very true," said Richard. "Very true." - -"Besides," continued Lord Calverly, "we cannot tell that our children -will use what we leave them better than the children of other men. It -is but a prejudice, my lord the king, to wish for posterity; and, -indeed, I are inclined to think that those men are happiest who have -never had any children." - -"If they have minds so full of philosophy as yours, my lord," answered -Richard; "and you can judge well, for you are yourself childless, and -yet happy in yourself." - -"Perfectly, your highness," replied Lord Calverly. "I would not change -with a patriarch. Indeed, the presence of children and our love for -them often betrays us into dangerous weaknesses, against which we -should guard with care, if Heaven should inflict them on us. I have -been always watchful--very watchful, your highness, against such -foibles. Even in the case of my niece, my poor brother's child, who -was left to my charge and guidance a mere infant; as soon as I found I -was becoming too fond of her, and that, when she was well I was too -careful of her, when she was ill I thought too much about her, I sent -her away at once to my sister, the abbess of St. Clare. Women's minds -being, weak, cannot be injured by such softnesses; but they suit ill -with a philosopher, a soldier, or a statesman. But it is upon this -subject that I came to speak with your highness." - -"What, regarding the abbess of St. Clare?" said Richard, with a start. - -"Of her presently," replied Lord Calverly; "but first of my niece. I -wish to crave your highness's permission to complete the marriage of -this little Iola with my friend, and the son of my friend, Arthur Lord -Fulmer." - -"You shall have it right willingly," replied Richard, in the -frankest tone possible. "It shall be drawn out in due form, and -receive our own sign manual. Can I refuse anything to so tried a -friend?--Nevertheless, my most dear lord, I will beseech you not to -proceed hastily," he continued with a significant nod of the head. -"Delay the marriage a little, at my request. We would be present at it -ourselves, I and the queen; and, moreover, I have intentions--I have -intentions----" - -He paused, looking in Lord Calverly's face, with a bland smile, and -then added: "Who knows what name you may be called upon to write, my -lord? It may not be Calverly then. Coronets will change their forms -sometimes; and we do not bind our brows always with the same cap. -Delay a little, delay a little! At the present moment sad thoughts -possess me, and I have not your philosophy to combat them. There are -many important matters to do. The succession to the crown must be -settled; and we shall need all your wise counsels, in graver things -than marriages and merrymakings. Delay a little, delay a little, my -right good friend." - -"Your highness is too gracious," replied Lord Calverly, with a shining -and radiant look. "Your commands are law but there is one other -subject I must bring before you, a matter touching your royal throne -and dignity." - -"Indeed!" exclaimed Richard. "What may that be?" - -"All men know, my royal lord," said the old nobleman, in an oratorical -tone, "that your highness's devout reverence for the church is not to -be questioned, that religion, as one may say, is not in you, as in -other men, a matter acquired by mere learning and meditation, but a -part and principle of your own royal nature. Now my sister, the abbess -of St. Clare of Atherston, whose conduct in her high charge has -deserved and received the praises of all men, and especially of our -holy father, has commissioned me to state to your highness, the fact, -that the abbey--an abbey of nuns be it remembered, filled with young -and delicate women, vowed to seclusion and prayer--was surrounded on -the night of Wednesday last by a body of rude soldiery, under the -command of one Sir John Godscroft, who, upon pretence of seeking for a -deserter, insisted upon admission, notwithstanding her warning that -the place was sanctuary. The whole building was searched; and not only -that, but the priest's house and many of the cottages on the green, -belonging to the servitors of the abbey, were burned to the ground." - -Richard's brow grew as black as night; and, setting his teeth hard -together, he rose and walked up and down the room, muttering to -himself-- - -"This must be repressed. This must be repressed." - -"Let your highness conceive," persisted Lord Calverly, following him a -step or two behind, "only conceive what a condition these poor nuns -were in, roused out of bed by these rude men, in the middle of the -night." - -A grim smile came upon the king's handsome face; and he replied-- - -"Grey gowns are soon put on, my lord. Nevertheless this shall be -looked into severely--Ha! Let me see--The abbey of St. Clare;" and, -taking some papers from the table, he ran his eye hastily over them, -and then exclaimed, with a frowning brow, "It is so! 'Twas not a -deserter whom they sought, my lord, but a traitor; no pitiful trooper -fled from his colours, but Morton, bishop of Ely, the instigator of -Buckingham, the counsellor of Dorset, the friend and confidant of -Richmond." - -"But, my lord the king, the abbey is sanctuary," replied Lord -Calverly; "and--" - -"Were it God's altar, with his hand upon the horn, I would tear that -man from it," thundered Richard, his whole countenance working with -passion. - -The moment after he cast himself into his chair, and covered his eyes -with his hands, while the pompous old nobleman stood as one -thunderstruck before him. After a dead silence of nearly a minute, the -king looked up again, and the cloud had passed away from his brow. - -"I have been moved, my lord," he said. "I have been moved. This man, -this Morton, is my deadliest enemy, a reviler, a calumniator, the -stirrer of every trouble in the realm; and he has escaped me. -Doubtless it was not your good sister's fault; and even if it were, -these men have exceeded their commission. I will have no such acts of -violence within this kingdom. Rich and poor, strong and weak, shall -know that the sword of justice is not trusted to my hands in vain. Nor -will I suffer my name and my service to be used as pretexts for acts -so criminal. It shall be inquired into and justice done." - -He paused, casting down his eyes; and Lord Calverly, frightened out of -his wits at the storm he had raised, was retreating towards the door, -when Richard called him again, saying-- - -"Stay, stay. I may have a charge to give you, my good lord. A very -noble gentleman brought up in the court--I may say under my own -eye--has somewhat failed in his duty. To what extent I know not yet. I -would fain not deal with him harshly; for he is young and rash, and -lately come from foreign lands, so that he may not know the full -extent of his fault. I will examine him however in your presence. If I -find he has acted with malignant purpose, he shall go to York for -trial. If it be but a rash prank of youth he has committed, although -it galled me somewhat closely, I will place him in your lordship's -ward, assigning you one third of his revenues while he remains there." - -As he spoke he rose, and called in one of the attendants saying, -briefly-- - -"Summon Lord Chartley hither." - -"I trust he may clear himself in your highness's opinion," said Lord -Calverly, while the attendant proceeded to obey the king's commands. -"I have heard him highly spoken of as one more than ordinarily -learned, and a complete master of exercises. Good Lord, I have often -patted his head as a boy; and such a curly head as it was too, all -wavy and silky, like a Spanish dog's. I little thought it would be -filled with philosophy." - -"Perhaps some slipped in from the tips of your fingers," said Richard, -with a slightly sarcastic smile; and in a moment or two after the door -of the cabinet opened. - -With a free light step, though a somewhat grave countenance for him, -Chartley entered the king's presence, and advanced to the side of the -table, opposite to that at which Richard was placed. The king gazed at -him, not sternly, but with that fixed, attentive, unwinking eye, which -is very difficult for conscious guilt to bear. - -Nevertheless Chartley sustained it firmly; and, after maintaining -silence for a full minute, with his lips compressed, Richard said-- - -"I have sent for you, my lord, because there are heavy charges against -you." - -"Will your highness state them?" said the young nobleman. "I will -answer them at once boldly and truly." - -"I will," answered Richard. "The first is--and all the rest are -secondary to that--that you have aided and comforted, contrary to our -proclamation, a known and avowed traitor, Morton, bishop of Ely; that -you took him in your train disguised as a friar, and carried him with -you from Tamworth to the abbey of St. Clare of Atherston, for the -purpose of facilitating his escape, well knowing him to be a traitor. -How say you? Is this charge true?" - -"In part, my lord the king," replied Chartley; "but in part also it is -false." - -"In what part," demanded Richard. - -"In that part which alleges I knew him to be a traitor," replied -Chartley, "and in that which implies that I had seen said did know -your royal proclamation. I never saw it, nor knew the terms thereof, -till yesterday; nor did I know or believe that the bishop was a -traitor. Yet let me not say one word that can deceive. I was well -aware that he had incurred your highness' displeasure; but on what -grounds I was not informed." - -"And, knowing it, you aided his escape?" said Richard sternly. - -"I did, my lord," replied Chartley; "but, if you will hear me speak a -few words, I may say something in my own excuse. I never gave you -cause before, wittingly or willingly, to doubt my loyalty. I have -trafficked with none of your personal enemies, nor with those of your -royal estate. I have taken no part in plots or conspiracies; but this -was a very different case. I found the friend, the guide, the -instructor of my youth, flying from danger; and my first thought was -to succour him. I know, my lord the king, that I have put my head in -peril by so doing; but what man would consider such peril to save a -father? and this man I looked upon as a second father. I will ask you, -sire, if you would not have done a hundred times as much, to rescue -the noble duke of York?--I loved Morton as much." - -He touched upon a tender point--perhaps the only really tender point -in Richard's heart. There are spots in the waste of memory ever -green--according to the beautiful figure of the poet--oases in the -desert of life. The burning sun of ambition cannot parch them, the -nipping frost of eager avarice cannot wither them. The palm tree of -early affection shades them for ever; the refreshing fountains of -first love keep them ever verdant. They are few with most men; for all -bright and beautiful things are few; but rarely as there a heart so -rugged in its nature, so scorched by earthly passion, or so faded from -dull indulgence, as not to have one (if not more) of those spots of -brightness, which, when the eye of remembrance lights upon it, -refreshes the spirit with a vision of the sweet calm joys of youth. -The memory of his great father, and of the love which he had borne -him, was the purest, perhaps, the only pure thing for Richard, in all -the treasury of the past; and he felt the allusion with sensations, -such as he had not experienced for many a long year. They were tender, -deep, almost too deep; and, turning away his head, he stretched out -his hand with a gesture, which seemed to command the speaker to stop. - -"Pardon me, your highness," said Chartley, seeing the emotions he had -aroused, and then was silent. - -Richard remained musing for several minutes. His mind was busy with -the past; but he had the peculiar faculty of all great and resolute -spirits, that of casting from him rapidly all impressions but those of -the present. He looked up again; and it was evident that the emotion -was at an end. Still it would seem that it had produced some effect in -its passage, for his next words were in a milder tone. - -"I am willing, my lord," he said, "to believe that you have acted -indiscreetly, but without evil intentions. I will make allowance for -youth, and for affection; but still, this must not go altogether -unpunished. Are you willing to abide by my decision?" - -"Needs must, my lord the king," replied Chartley, almost gaily. "I am -in your hand, and it is a strong one." - -"Nay!" answered the king. "You have a choice, if you like it better. I -can send you for trial by your peers." - -"Good faith, no!" cried Chartley. "That were worse a thousand-fold. In -a word, sire, I know my danger. Ignorance, youth, friendship, were no -defence before the stubborn rigour of the law. You have the power to -mitigate it, and, I believe, the heart. I leave my cause with you." - -"Well then," said Richard, "by St. Paul, you shall not have cause to -repent. As you have put yourself in the king's will, we will put you -in ward with this noble lord, till our further pleasure; assigning him -one third of your revenues, for the guard and maintenance of your -person, and making him responsible to us for your conduct. He will not -deal harshly with you, methinks. Does this satisfy you?" - -"Since better may not be, my lord," replied Chartley. "I would as -gladly be in the hand of this noble lord, who, if my memory fail me -not, is the Lord Calverly, as any one. Give a bird the choice, whether -yon shall put it in a gilded cage or wring its neck, and doubtless it -will prefer the wires; and yet it can scarcely be said to be -satisfied, when it would fain use its wings in freedom, though for no -evil purpose." - -"I seek not that his imprisonment be very strict, my lord," said -Richard, turning to Lord Calverly. "You will take such securities as -you judge needful, but do nought with rigour; for, even by the light -way in which he fronts his danger, one may judge that he did what he -has done in careless ignorance rather than in malice. Now take him -with you, and bestow him as you think fit." - -"Ay, young heads are too hot for cool judgment," said Lord Calverly, -as they walked towards the door. "It is a marvel to me how boys ever -grow men, and how men ever reach maturity; for, not contented with the -perils of life, they are always making new dangers for themselves." - -"Stay," cried Richard. "Stay! There is yet one question I would ask -before you go, Lord Chartley. Was the abbess of St. Glare privy to -your bringing this turbulent bishop within her walls? I hear you sent -forward a messenger." - -The question was a perilous one; but Chartley fixed upon the latter -words of the king for his reply, and thus avoided the danger. "My -messenger bore a letter, your highness," he answered, "which letter -the abbess doubtless still has and can show you. You will there see, -that I only told her I was coming to crave her hospitality with some -friends. The bishop I presented to her as a friar travelling with my -train. Nor was there one amongst the friends who were with me, nor -amongst my servants, who was made aware of our companion's quality. -There is a proverb, very old, that fine feathers make fine birds; and -I do not believe that any one saw the bishop's robe through the -friar's gown." - -Richard smiled, thinking of Sir Charles Weinants, but bowed his head -in signal of the conference being ended; and the two noblemen withdrew -together. - - - - -CHAPTER XX. - - -I know not whether the architecture of the middle ages--that peculiar -architecture, I mean, which existed in different varieties in England, -from a little before the commencement of the reign of the Conqueror, -till the end of the reign of Henry VII.--can be said to have advanced -or retrograded from the time of Edward III. to the time of Richard. -Every one will judge according to his particular tastes of the merits -of the style; but one thing is certain, that, although the houses of -the lower orders had remained much the same, the domestic arrangement -of the baronial residences had greatly improved. Notwithstanding that -long period of contention, which succeeded the accession of Henry VI., -notwithstanding constant wars and the frequent summons to the field, -men seemed to have looked for comfort in the laying out of their -dwellings; and the feudal castle, although still a castle, and well -fitted for defence, contained in it many of the conveniences of a -modern house. Perhaps it was, that the struggle of great parties had -taken the place of private quarrels between the great barons -themselves and struggles between mere individual conspirators and the -crown. Thus great towns were attacked more frequently than fortified -mansions; and, during this period, we meet with very few instances of -a simple baronial fortress being subjected to siege. - -However that might be, the chambers in a great nobleman's house, the -halls, the lodging chambers, the ladies' bower, were now all more -commodious, light, and airy, than at that former period of few, small, -narrow and deep windows, when light and air were excluded, as well as -the missiles of an enemy. Not only in monastery, convent, and college, -but even in private dwellings, the large oriel was seen here and -there, suffering the beams of day to pour freely into the hall, and -casting the lines of its delicate tracery upon the floor; and, raised -somewhat above the general level of the room, approached by two steps, -and furnished with window seats, it afforded a pleasant and sun-shiny -sitting-place to the elder and younger members of the family. - -There was one of these oriel windows in the lesser hall, of Chidlow -castle; and round the raised platform, within the sort of bay which it -formed, ran a sort of bench or window seat of carved oak, covered with -a loose cushion of crimson velvet. The lattice was open, and soft air -and bright light streamed in. The winter had been remarkably long and -severe. The snow had lain upon the ground till the end of March; and, -even then, when one bright day had succeeded, and withdrawn the white -covering of the earth, it was only to be followed by a week or ten -days of sharp frost, which reigned in its full rigour during some of -the events which we have narrated in the previous chapters. Now, -however, winter had departed, and spring commenced with that sudden -and rapid transition, which is often the case in more northern -countries, and is sometimes seen even in England. The air, as I have -said, was soft and genial; the blue skies were hardly chequered by a -fleecy cloud; the birds were singing in the trees; the red buds were -bursting with the long-checked sap; and snowdrop and violet seemed -running races with the primrose and the anemone, to catch the first -smile of their sweet mother spring. The little twining shrubs were -already green with their young leaves; and the honeysuckle strove hard -to cast a verdant mantle over the naked brown limbs of the tall trees -which it had climbed. The scene from the lattice of the oriel window -was one of those fair English landscapes on which the eye loves to -rest; for the castle was situated upon a height, and below spread out -a rich and beautiful country, waving in long lines of meadow and wood -for fifteen or sixteen miles, till sloping uplands towered into high -hills, which glowed with a peculiarly yellow light, never seen -anywhere, that I know of, beyond the limits of this island. Gazing -from that lattice, over that scene, sat two young and beautiful girls, -with whom the reader is already acquainted. Very different, it is -true, was their garb from that in which they were first presented to -you whose eye rests upon this page; for the more simple garments of -the convent had given place to the splendid costume of the court of -that time; and the forms, which required no ornament, were half hidden -in lace and embroidery. But there was still the beautiful face of -Iola, with the bright beaming expression, which seemed to pour forth -hope and joy in every look, but now somewhat shaded with a cloud of -care; and there, the not less fair, though somewhat more thoughtful, -countenance of her cousin Constance, with her deep feeling eyes poring -over the far prospect, and seeming to search for something through the -thin summer mist that softened all the features of the landscape. - -They were both very silent, and evidently busied with their own -thoughts. Some attendants passed across the hall, and others lingered, -to arrange this or that article of furniture. Others entered to speak -with them and the two girls, from time to time, turned an inquiring -look at those who came and went, showing that they were in some sort -strangers in the home of their fathers. - -At length, the hall was cleared of all but themselves, and Constance -said in a low voice, "I wish, dear cousin, that my aunt would come. We -should not then feel so desolate. I think our good lord and uncle -might have left us at the abbey till he was at home himself." - -"He would not have made the place much more cheerful," answered Iola, -with a faint smile; "for wisdom is a very melancholy thing, dear -Constance; at least if it be always like his. I fear me, too, even my -good merry aunt would not make this place feel anything but desolate -to me, just at present. She might cheer and support me a little, it is -true; but I have got terrible dreams of the future, Constance. I try -not to think of them, but they will come." - -She paused and bent down her eyes, in what seemed painful meditation; -and Constance replied, in a gentle tone, saying: "Why, how is this, -Iola? You used not to look upon the matter so seriously." - -"Alack, it gets very bad as it comes near," answered Iola, with an -uncheerful laugh. "It is something very like being sold for a slave, -Constance. However, the poor slave cannot help himself, nor I either, -so do not let us talk any more about it. I suppose I shall soon see my -purchaser. I wonder what he is like. Do you recollect whether he is -white or black?" - -"Good faith, not I," answered Constance; "but he is not quite a negro, -I suppose. I have heard people say he was a pretty boy." - -"A pretty boy!" cried Iola, raising her eyebrows. "Heaven defend me! -What will become of me if I am married to a pretty boy? Somewhat like -Sir Edward Hungerford, I suppose, lisping lamentable nonsense about -essences, and bestowing his best thoughts upon his tailor." - -"Nay, nay! Why should you conjure up such fancies?" said Constance. -"You seem resolved to dislike him without cause." - -"Nature, dear cousin," said Iola. "Nature and the pig's prerogative, -to dislike any road we are forced to travel. Yet, it is bad policy, I -will admit; and I will try to shake it off, and to like him to the -best of my ability. The time is coming fast when I must, whether I -will or not; for I think the oath I am about to take is to love him. I -do think it is very hard that women should not be allowed to choose -for themselves, and yet be forced to take an oath which they do not -know whether they can keep or not. Well, the worst of all the seven -sacraments is matrimony, to my mind. Extreme unction is a joke to -it--how can I tell that I shall love him? I don't think I can; and yet -I must swear I will." - -"You are making a rack of your own fancy," said Constance. "Wait till -you have seen him at least, Iola; for, after all, you may find him the -very man of your own heart." - -Iola started, and then shook her head mournfully, saying, "of my own -heart? Oh, no!" - -Constance gazed at her in surprise; and for the first time a suspicion -of the truth crossed her mind. She said not a word, however, of her -doubts, but resolved to watch narrowly, with that kind and eager -affection which two girls brought up from youth together often feel -for each other, where no rivalry has ever mingled its bitter drop with -the sweet current of kindred love. She changed the subject of -conversation too, pointing to some towers in the distance, and saying, -"I wonder whose castle that is." - -"Middleham, I dare say," answered Iola, in an absent tone. "It is -somewhere out there--but yet it cannot be Middleham either. Middleham -is too far." - -"There is something moving upon that road which we see going along the -side of the hill," said Constance. "I dare say it is my uncle and his -train." - -"No, no, Leicester lies out there," answered Iola; "you never can find -out the country, dear cousin; and I learn it all in a minute, like the -leaf of a book. I dare say it is some wild lord, riding to hawk or to -hunt. Heaven send it be not my falcon, just towering to strike me -before my uncle comes. I'll not look at them. They seem coming this -way;" and she turned from the window and went down the steps, seating -herself upon the lower one, and resting her cheek upon her hand. - -Constance did watch the approaching party, however, till it became -evident that those whom she saw were coming direct towards the castle. -They were now seen and now lost among the trees and hedges; but every -time they reappeared they were nearer. - -At length Constance turned her eyes to Iola, and said, "they are -coming hither, whoever they are; and my uncle is certainly not one of -the party. They are only five or six in all, and seem young men. Had -we not better go away to our own chamber?" - -"No," answered Iola, starting up. "I will stay and face them. -Something seems to tell me, that I know who is coming. You shall see -how well I can behave, Constance, wild as you think me, and untutored -in the world's ways as I am." - -"They may be mere strangers after all," said Constance; "but here they -are; for I can hear the dull sound of their horses' feet upon the -drawbridge." - -Iola sprang up the steps again with a light step, and twined her arm -in that of her cousin. Both movements were very natural. We always -like to stand upon a height when we meet those of whom we have any -fear or any doubt; and Iola felt the need of sympathy which the very -touch of her cousin's arm afforded her. A pause followed, during which -Constance sought to say something and to look unconcerned; but words -she found not; and her eyes as well as Iola's remained fixed upon the -door. At length it opened; and, preceded by one of the officers of the -castle, but unannounced by him, two gentlemen entered with a quick -step. One was instantly recognized by both the fair girls who stood in -the oriel, as Sir Edward Hungerford. The other was a stranger to them -both. He was a dark handsome-looking young man, of some two or three -and twenty years of age, dressed in somewhat of a foreign fashion, -which, had they been much acquainted with such matters, they would -have perceived at once to be the mode of the Burgundian court; but -Iola's eye rested not upon his dress. It was his face that she -scanned; and Constance felt a sort of shudder pass over her cousin's -frame, as she leaned upon her arm, which pained and grieved her much. -She saw nothing disagreeable, nothing to dislike in the countenance or -air of the stranger. His step was free and graceful, his carriage -dignified and lordly, his look, though perhaps a little haughty, was -open and frank. In fact he was a man well calculated to please a -lady's eye; and again Constance said to herself--"There must be some -other attachment." - -The stranger came on at an equal pace with Sir Edward Hungerford; but -it was the latter who first spoke. - -"Permit me," he said, "dear ladies, to be lord of the ceremonies, and -introduce to you both my noble friend Arthur, Lord Fulmer." - -The other seemed not to hear what he said; but, mounting the steps -into the oriel at once, he took Iola's hand, saying-- - -"This must be the Lady Iola." - -With a cheek as pale as death, and an eye cold and fixed, but with a -firm and unwavering tone, the fair girl answered-- - -"My name is Iola, my lord. This is my cousin Constance. We grieve that -my uncle is not here to receive you fittingly." - -"I bring you tidings of your uncle, dear lady," replied Fulmer, still -addressing her alone. "A messenger reached me from him at an early -hour this morning, telling me that he would be at Chidlow during the -evening, with a gay train of guests, and bidding me ride on and have -everything prepared for their reception. He spoke indeed of sending a -servant forward himself. Has no one arrived?" - -"No one, my lord," replied Iola, "at least no one that we have heard -of. But, having lived long in close seclusion, we are, as it were, -strangers in my uncle's house, without occupation or authority. I pray -you use that which my uncle has given you, to order all that may be -necessary. As for us, I think we will now retire." - -"Nay, not so soon," exclaimed Fulmer, eagerly. "This is but a brief -interview indeed." - -Sir Edward Hungerford too, in sweet and persuasive tones, besought the -two ladies not to leave them, but to stay and give their good advice, -as to the delicate preparation of the castle for the expected guests; -but Iola remained firm to her purpose; and Constance, when she saw -that it would distress her to remain, joined her voice to her -cousin's; and, leaving the two gentlemen in the hall, they retired to -Iola's chamber. - -With her arm through that of Constance, Iola walked slowly but firmly -thither; and it was only as she approached the door that anything like -agitation showed itself. Then, however, Constance felt her steps waver -and her frame shake; and, when they had entered the room, Iola cast -herself on her knees by the side of the bed, hid her face upon its -coverings, and wept. - - - - -CHAPTER XXI. - - -When Iola and her fair cousin were gone, Lord Fulmer gazed for a -moment from the window, with a thoughtful and absent look; and then, -descending the steps, walked once or twice up and down the hall. At -length, turning to Sir Edward Hungerford, he exclaimed: - -"She is beautiful, indeed! Is she not, Hungerford?" - -"Yes, exceedingly," replied the young knight; "although, methinks, the -upper lip might be a trifle longer; but you would think her fairer -still if you beheld her as I first saw her, with a colour in her -cheek, like that of the morning sky. Now, I know not why, she is as -pale as one of those marble statues which we see at Rome." - -"Emotion!" said Fulmer, thoughtfully. "Perhaps it was wrong to take -her thus, by surprise. Come, Hungerford, let us give these orders with -which I am charged;" and, advancing to the door, he called for the -attendants. - -The orders were not so difficult to give as to execute; for they -implied immediate preparation for the accommodation of at least twenty -honoured guests besides the usual inhabitants of the castle, together -with all their attendants, and for a splendid repast, to be ready for -supper at the unusually late hour of nine. Special directions were -added, to prepare one of the numerous detached buildings, which were -frequently to be found within the walls of the fortified houses of -those days, for the reception of the Lord Chartley and his train; and -a portion of the immense range of stabling, which lay, strange to say, -immediately at the back of the chapel, was to be set apart exclusively -for his horses. Sir Edward Hungerford listened in polite silence, till -Fulmer had delivered himself of his commission to the chief officer of -Lord Calverly's household; but he could not suffer the good man to -depart, without putting in a word or two, as advice to the master -cook, concerning the dressing of cygnets, and the absolute necessity -of immediately seeking a young heron of last year, or at least a -bittern, as heron poults were not to be obtained. - -"Porpoises are hopeless," he said, "at this distance from the sea, and -squirrels in the spring are lean and poor; but, I have known a large -luce, quaintly stewed with lard, supply the place of the one, while a -coney may do well instead of the other; only I fear me it is somewhat -late in the year." - -The major domo bowed reverently at this discourse; and, as soon as he -was gone, Fulmer exclaimed: "Come, Hungerford, let us walk upon the -battlements, this sunshiny afternoon. Perchance these two fair girls -may come down to breathe the air." - -"Stay," replied Sir Edward Hungerford. "I will go and put on my green -and sable surcoat; if they see it, it may attract them." - -"Pshaw!" cried Fulmer. "Do you think they are bulls, which, men say, -will run after a piece of cloth of a particular colour?" - -"Nay!" replied Hungerford, with perhaps a little spice of malice; "but -this surcoat of mine is, point for point, the very model of -Chartley's." - -"What has Chartley to do with the matter?" demanded Fulmer, turning -full upon him, with some surprise. - -"It shall be on in a moment," replied Sir Edward, without answering -his question. "I hate this orange tawny colour, though it be now worn -by every one. It does not at all suit my complexion. 'Tis a sort of -jealousy colour. I will no more on't;" and away he went. - -Lord Fulmer paced up and down the hall. "Her greeting was mighty -cold," he thought. "Well, perhaps 'twas natural; and yet 'twas less -troubled than chilly. She seemed firm enough, but yet as icy as the -grave. What can this man mean about Chartley? Nothing, nothing. He has -no meaning in him. I wish her greeting had been somewhat warmer--and -in his presence too. He smiled, when he talked of Chartley." - -He had not time for any long meditations, for he was very soon -rejoined by his friend, habited in the most extravagant extreme of the -mode, with the sleeves of his surcoat actually trailing on the ground -when not fixed back to his shoulders by small loops of gold cord, and -ruby buttons. The two gentlemen then found their way to the -battlements, and walked round nearly their whole extent; Hungerford -looking up, from time to time, at the principal masses of the -building, in the hopes of ascertaining, by seeing some sweet face at a -window, in what part of the castle Constance and her cousin were -lodged. He said no more upon the subject of Iola and Chartley; and -Fulmer did not choose to inquire further, though, to say the truth, -the mere casual words he had heard, implying in reality little or -nothing, rested on his mind more than he wished. Wrapped up in the -thoughts of his own glittering person, Sir Edward Hungerford walked on -by his friend's side in silence, and might perhaps have said nothing -more for the next half hour, if Fulmer had not begun the conversation -himself. Of course, it was begun from a point quite different from -that at which he proposed to arrive. - -"This castle is pleasantly situated," he observed, "and commands all -the country round." - -"Good faith, I like your own better," answered Sir Edward Hungerford. -"Sheltered as it is, by woods and higher hills than that on which it -stands, you have no dread of north winds there. Here, let it blow from -east, west, north or south, you meet with every gust of heaven that is -going; and, unless a man's skin be as tough as a horse's hide, he will -ruin his complexion in a fortnight." - -"I like it better," said Fulmer. "I love to have a free sight round -me, to look afar, and see what comes on every side, to catch the rays -of the sun in their warmth, ay, and sometimes to give the sharp wind -buffet for buffet. Were both mine, I should choose this for my -residence." - -"Well, it will soon be yours," answered Sir Edward Hungerford; "for, -I suppose your marriage is to take place speedily, and this old lord -cannot live long. He is worn out with wisdom. You can then inhabit -which you like. Every man has his tastes, Fulmer. Some, as you know, -delight in orange tawny. I abominate the hue. You dislike your own -place, and prefer Chidlow; I the reverse. You, doubtless, judge Iola -the most beautiful. I admire little Constance, with her thoughtful -brow." - -"Because you have no more thought yourself than would lie in the hem -of a silk jerkin," replied Fulmer. "Yet, methinks she were too grave -for you." - -"Nay! She can be merry enough when she is with those who please her," -replied Hungerford, with a self-satisfied nod of his head. "That -pretty little mouth can dimple with smiles, I assure you." - -"Why, how know you all this, Hungerford?" asked Fulmer, in as light a -tone as he could assume. "You seem to be wondrous well acquainted with -these ladies' characters." - -"Ay, ay," replied Sir Edward, with a mysterious and yet laughing look. -"Constance and I passed that self same evening side by side; and, in -one evening, a man may learn and teach a great deal." - -"What evening?--What do you mean?" demanded Fulmer, sharply; but his -companion only laughed, replying:-- - -"Ha! ha! Now, I could make you jealous--but, hush! No more just now. -Some one is coming; and look, here is a party riding up--there, over -that hill, upon the Leicester road." - -The person who approached along the battlements was Lord Calverly's -master of the household, come for some explanation from the young -lord, whom he knew right well; and, while he spoke with Fulmer, Sir -Edward Hungerford threw himself into a graceful attitude by one of the -embrasures, and fell into thought--ay, reader, even into thought; for -he was somewhat different in reality from that which he has hitherto -appeared to you. I have only depicted him in certain scenes, and -recorded his sayings and doings therein; and, if you judge other men, -in your actual commerce with the world, by such partial views, you -will make a great mistake--unless indeed you possess that instinct, -the gift of few, which enables some to pierce through all the various -veils with which men cover themselves, and see their real characters -at once in their nakedness. Notwithstanding all the trifling, and the -foppery, and the folly of Sir Edward Hungerford, there was no lack of -brain beneath that frivolous exterior. I do not mean to say that his -apparent tastes and pursuits were altogether assumed. He had a real -fondness for splendour and delicacy of dress, for refinements in -cookery, and softness and smoothness of demeanour. He was inordinately -vain too of his person; and these were certainly defects, ay, and -defects of intellect; for they showed a misappreciation of the worth -of things; but, if you set down every fop for a fool, you will commit -an egregious error. Every man has his weak point, they say, and -foppery is certainly a very great one; but there may be a many strong -points behind, and such was the case with this young knight. He was a -man of undoubted courage, notwithstanding all his care for his fine -person; by no means eager in quarrel, who could hear a jest, or a -taunt, or even a reproach, with great patience, provided it did not -become an insult; but then no one was more ready with his sword. The -man, in short, who wished to fight him, he was ever prepared to fight; -but he never showed any of that assassin-like love of mere fighting, -which has gained many a man, very unjustly, the reputation of great -courage. Not, however, to make him appear better than he really was, I -must say a few words more upon his character. Though he could think -deeply, and sometimes well, upon any subject placed before him, yet he -had no value whatever for the power of thought. His great fault was a -miscomprehension of what is precious and what is valueless in man; and -this affected his estimation of his own qualities as well as those of -others. Whether from a strange but not unusual philosophy, he thought -the trifles of every day life more important to man's happiness, from -their frequent occurrence, than the weighty things of the heart and -mind, or whether the mocking persiflage of the court in which he had -been brought up, had sunk, as it were, into his spirit, and made him -look upon all things equally as trifles, I cannot tell; but certainly -he would have prided himself more upon the cut of a doublet, which -would have secured a multitude of imitators, than upon the wisest -saying he could have uttered, or upon the profoundest reflections that -could have passed through his mind. But this philosophy, or whatever -it was, had its dangers and its evils. He looked upon morals with the -same distorted vision as upon all other matters; even laughed at -restraints which other men held sacred, and regarded every course of -conduct as perfectly indifferent, because all things were equally -empty and idle. To the punctilios of honour, as to the ceremonies of -religion, he submitted with a good grace, merely because it was not -worth while to contest them; and, if he did not injure a friend, or -betray a cause he had espoused, or violate his plighted word, it was -merely--I will not say by accident--by some slight impression received -in youth, which he would have scoffed at in his own mind, if any one -attempted to erect it into a principle. He seldom argued indeed, and -never combatted other men's opinions, because he thought it quite as -well that they should have them as not; and the only thing he thought -it worth while to reason upon for five minutes was the fashion of a -point, or a cloak, the design of a piece of embroidery, or the -composition of an essence. These matters indeed rose into some -importance with him; but the cause was, that he had talked himself -into a vanity upon the subject, and other men had given value to his -decisions by following them as law. - -He thought then, while his companion was engaged in conversation; and -his mind rested naturally upon things which had just passed. - -"How some men trouble themselves about vain fancies," he said to -himself. "Here is this good friend of mine would soon be in a flame of -jealousy, if he knew all; not considering how very foolish and unlike -a gentleman it is to be jealous at all. It is quite a gone-by mode, a -faded suit, since good King Edward's days, and is as bad as a pale -yellow doublet with a crimson cloak. Yet this man would wear it, and -make himself as ridiculous as a Turk, with fifty wives, and jealous of -them all. It would be amusing enough to see him, with all the -wonderful graces of such a condition, now writhing like a saltimbank, -yet grinning all the while to hide his pangs--then with a moody air -walking apart with crossed angry arms, and thundery brow, and now -affecting the gay and jocular, and dealing blows right and left, under -the colour of sportive playfulness, only waiting to cut some one's -throat, till he got the proof positive, which never comes. But I will -not do it. It is not worth the while. Trouble would grow out of it; -and nothing on earth is worth trouble but a dish of lampreys or a pair -of new-fashioned hosen.--They are coming on fast," he continued aloud, -looking from the walls. "On my life I believe it is the old pompous -lord coming at the full gallop as if he were following a falcon. Come, -Fulmer, come; let us down to the gates. Here is that most honourable -peer, Arnold Lord Calverly, with two or three score in company, riding -as fast as if King Richard were behind him. Pray Heaven the good -nobleman's horse stumble not, or what a squelch there will be." - -Thus saying, he began to descend one of those little flights of steps, -which, in castles such as that of Chidlow, led from the battlements -into the courtyard. Fulmer followed with a quick step; but the words -of Sir Edward Hungerford had already planted doubts and apprehensions, -which were not easily to be removed. - - - - -CHAPTER XXII. - - -"It was discreet, my lord, it was discreet," said Lord Calverly, as he -walked up into the hall with Fulmer by his side; "and take my word for -it, that discretion is a quality which every man should prize in a -wife. She meant you no offence, depend upon it, but with maidenly -modesty retired till she had the sanction of her guardian's presence." - -"I made no complaint, my dear lord," replied Fulmer, for the first -time aware that, in telling how soon Iola had left him, his tone had -displayed some mortification; "I merely said that, after a moment's -interview, the dear girl withdrew; and you may easily imagine that I -should have better liked her stay." - -"Nay, nay, not so," answered the old peer. "That is a boyish fancy. We -should always prefer lengthened happiness to present pleasure. Now her -retiring was a sign of that frame of mind which will be your best -happiness hereafter, therefore you should have been well pleased." - -Fulmer set his teeth tight together, bearing the lecture with -impatience, to which he did not choose to give utterance; but the next -moment the old lord continued, saying-- - -"Thanks for your diligence, my dear lord. I see the people are all in -a bustle of preparation. My noble friend Lord Chartley will be here -anon; for, good sooth, it gave me some trouble to outride him; and I -would not have him find anything in disarray; for his own household, I -am told, is the best ordered in England." - -The words galled their auditor. He asked himself why it should be so; -and he had nothing to reply; for the movements of the human heart, -deep, subtle, and intricate, conceal themselves constantly more or -less, not only from the eyes of the outward world, but from the sight -of the mind, which is affected by their impulses. As the ship leaves -no permanent trace in the ever closing waters, as the arrow marks not -its path through the sky, so do feelings often pass through the human -heart, leaving no trace of the way by which they came and went. - -Fulmer could not prevent a frown from gathering on his brow; but, -though marked by Sir Edward Hungerford, it passed unnoticed by old -Lord Calverly, whose coming somewhat earlier than had been expected -set the whole household of the castle in movement. Orders had to be -given; rooms to be assigned; new preparations to be ordered; old -preparations to be undone; servants, attendants, guests hurried here -and there; and a great deal of bustle, and not a little confusion, -prevailed, when, at length, Iola and Constance appeared in answer -to a summons from their uncle. The former was still very pale; and -the keen and marking eye of Fulmer detected--or he fancied that he -detected--the trace of tears upon her beautiful cheek. - -All passed unnoticed by her self-occupied uncle. He had not seen her -for nearly two years, and he did not remark any change in her -appearance. She might have been pale before, for aught he knew; and -besides he was too busy to take any note of such trifling things as -paleness or tears. He saluted both his nieces, and welcomed them to -Chidlow in fewer words than was his wont; asked why their aunt, the -abbess, had not come with them at his summons; but waited for no -answer; and, committing them to the care of Lord Fulmer and Sir Edward -Hungerford, with some gentlemen, of inferior fortune and station who -had accompanied him from Leicester, he proceeded to reiterate orders -given twice before, and confuse his servants with manifold directions, -often somewhat contradictory. - -Left in the hall with her cousin, and her uncle's guests, Iola felt -some relief in the numbers who were present. Fulmer would fain have -enacted the lover's part; nor was he indeed at all unfitted to do so; -for his heart was naturally warm and impetuous, and Iola's beauty and -grace might well have kindled the flame of love in a colder breast -than his own. Strange human nature, too, would have it, that the -doubts and apprehensions which had arisen in his mind should render -him only the mere eager to overcome anything like coldness upon her -part; and he strove, with soft speeches and low-toned words, to win -her ear to himself alone. - -The result was not favourable. Iola listened calmly, coldly, and ever -replied aloud, in words which all the world might hear. She did so, -not upon any plan or system indeed, but from the feelings which were -busy in her own heart, and the impressions which his words produced. -She was contrasting them all the time with those of Chartley; and to -her mind, at least, the comparison was unfavourable. The frank gay -manner, the lively half-careless answer, the want of all study and -formality, the shining forth of a heart that, like a gay bird, seemed -made captive in spite of itself, which had all pleased, excited, won -her in Chartley, was not to be found in the conversation or demeanour -of Lord Fulmer. Between her and him there were but few subjects in -common; the only one, indeed, being that from which she shrunk away -with apprehension. He could but have recourse to the common places of -love and admiration; and they were not at all fitted to win her. It -was his misfortune indeed, and not his fault; but yet we often -aggravate our misfortunes by our faults; and so it was in some degree -with Fulmer. He had dreamed bright dreams of their meeting; and, -little knowing woman's heart, he had fancied that she would do the -same, that she would look forward with the same hopes to their union, -that her heart unwooed would spring to meet his; and he was -disappointed, mortified, somewhat irritated, to find that it was not -so. - -Worse, in the end he showed such feelings in his manner, and by an -impatient look and tone, caused Iola to shrink from him still more -coldly. - -It was just at that moment that old Lord Calverly returned, saying -aloud-- - -"Our other guests are coming. They are just at the castle gates. Now, -Constance," he continued, for his lordship would sometimes venture an -insipid joke, "now, Constance, if you would win a rich and noble -husband, put on your brightest smiles." - -"Who may he be, my lord?" asked Constance, who as well as Iola was -ignorant of the names of the persons expected. - -"Nay, nay, you will see," said Lord Calverly. "Did not his young -lordship tell you?" - -"No, indeed!" answered Constance quietly; "but I can wait in patience, -my good lord. Time brings all things to light." - -Through the open windows came the clattering sound of horses' feet -from the courtyard, and then of orders given and voices speaking. -There is something very strange in our memory of sounds. How long, how -clearly we remember, how definitely we can trace back those intangible -footprints of things that we have loved or dreaded, on the pathway of -the air. A tone which has once awakened strong emotions is never -forgotten. Iola's heart thrilled as she heard those sounds from the -court. - -There was then a pause of a minute or two, during which no one spoke. -Then came steps upon the short wide staircase; and then the door -opened. Fulmer fixed his eyes upon Iola's face; but she remarked not -that he did so; for her own look was bent forward upon the door. He -saw a clear light rise up in her eyes, a soft warm glow spread itself -over her cheek and forehead, a bright but very transient smile, -extinguished as soon as lighted, beam upon her beautiful lips. The -next instant she was calm and pale again; and, turning his head, he -saw Chartley approaching. - -The wound was given. His doubts, his apprehensions, his suspicions -were confirmed. Yet there was nothing tangible; nothing that could -justify him in saying a word, or acting in any way except as before. -But that was the greater torture; and now he resolved to watch for -some occasion to speak or do. In the mean time Chartley advanced -rapidly, followed by good Sir William Arden. He was somewhat changed -since Iola had seen him. He looked graver, sterner. His cheek had -grown pale too. There were care and thought written on his brow. - -"He has suffered also," thought Iola; and her heart sunk more than -ever. - -"Oh, would that I had told him all at once!" she said in her own -heart. "Yet how could I do it? Alas, that I should make him unhappy -too." - -Chartley's manner however showed no agitation. He had been prepared by -his conversation with Lord Calverly to meet those whom he found there; -and, at once addressing the old nobleman, he said: - -"I here redeem my parole, my good lord, and surrender myself to your -ward, according to the king's will, and to my word given this morning -when you left me." - -Then turning to Iola, he took her hand with a frank but grave air, and -bent his head over it, saying, "dear lady, I rejoice to see you once -again, and trust that you have been well since the evening when we -met." - -With a degree of haste, which was the only sign of emotion he showed, -he next saluted Constance, almost in the same words; but then, with a -kindly and sincere tone, inquired after her aunt, the abbess, trusting -that she had not suffered from the alarm and anxiety she must have -felt on the night when he last saw her. He listened too attentively to -Constance's reply; but he could not prevent his eyes from wandering -for a moment back to the face of Iola; and then, with a sort of start, -he turned away, looking round the circle, and exclaimed, "oh, -Hungerford, I did not expect to meet you here. When you left me at -Leicester, I thought you were bound for London, and believed you, even -now, plunged in a sea of green Genoa velvet." - -"Nay, you forget," replied Sir Edward Hungerford; "summer is coming -on. No one could venture to wear velvet for the next eight months, -except a lord mayor or an alderman." - -"Faith, I know not much of such matters," answered Chartley; "but that -is the most reasonable piece of tailorism I have heard, which gives us -warm clothing for our winter wear and lighter garments for our summer -use. However I thought you were in London." - -"So had I been," answered the young knight; "but I was stopped by a -delicate epistle from my friend Lord Fulmer, here, containing an -invitation not to be refused." - -"Let me make you acquainted, any good lords," said Lord Calverly, -advancing between the two young noblemen, and presenting them to each -other. Each bowed with a stiff and stately air; and Chartley paused -for a moment, as if to see whether Fulmer would speak or not; but, -finding him silent, he turned on his heel; and, seeing Sir William -Arden talking bluffly to Iola, he took his place by the side of -Constance, and once more spoke of the night of their meeting. - -The entrance of the young nobleman and those who accompanied him had -caused one of those pauses which are very common in--I might say -peculiar to--English society. Amongst foreigners in general, a -stranger can enter, glide in amongst the other guests, speak with -those he knows, pass those who are strangers, and be introduced to -this person or to that, without interrupting the occupations or -amusements going on. If his rank be very high, or his character very -distinguished, a slight murmur, a hardly perceptible movement, and a -few seconds of observation, form all that is produced by his -appearance; but here such is not the case; and, unless the -conversation going forward be very entertaining indeed, or the -amusement in progress very exciting, a long silence follows the -introduction of any personage worthy of note, during which he is well -aware that every body is observing and commenting upon him. Such had -been in a great degree the case in the present instance. For the first -five minutes, nobody had spoken but Chartley, Iola, Constance, their -uncle, and Sir Edward Hungerford. But, at the end of that time, each -of the many guests resumed his conversation with his neighbour; and -Chartley had a better opportunity of saying a few words, which he did -not wish heard, to Constance, while the busy buzz of tongues prevailed -around. - -"I am happy, dear lady," he said, as soon as he had made sure of the -moment, "to see you looking so well. I wish I could say the same of -your sweet cousin. She looks pale, anxious, and thoughtful." - -He paused as if for an answer, but Constance merely replied, "she does -not look well indeed." - -"I fear," continued Chartley, "that terrible night she passed in the -forest, with all the alarm that she must have felt, was too much for -her fair and delicate frame. I did my best, believe me, to comfort and -protect her; but my best was but little, and she must have suffered -much." - -"I do not think that had any effect," replied Constance. "Her health -has ever been strong and unimpaired--" she stopped for an instant, -fearful of being led on to say more than she intended, and then added; -"but she certainly looks ill. She speaks, however, my lord, with great -gratitude of the kindness which you showed her, on that terrible -night, which I shall never think of without dread." - -"Gratitude!" said Chartley, with a smile. "Kindness! Dear lady, she -must have formed a very unfavourable opinion of mankind, if she -thought there was any gentleman who would not do the same." - -"But it may be done in very different ways, my noble lord," answered -Constance; "and she assured me that you treated her as if you had been -a brother." - -Chartley murmured to himself in a low tone, "Would that I could have -felt as one!" The sounds were hardly articulate; but they caught the -ear of his companion, and the whole secret was revealed at once. She -cast down her eyes in painful thought, from which she was roused the -moment after by Chartley saying, almost in a whisper, - -"Will you give her a message for me, dear lady? for I may never have -the opportunity of saying what I wish myself." - -"What is it, my lord?" demanded Constance, timidly, with a glow of -agitation coming into her cheek. - -"It is merely this," replied the young nobleman. "Tell her, that he -for whom she risked so much--I mean the bishop of Ely--is safe in -France. I have received intimation of the fact from a sure hand. Tell -her so, and add that, if the deepest gratitude and the sincerest -regard can compensate for what she underwent that night, she has -them." - -"I will," replied Constance. "I will repeat your words exactly. There -can be no harm in that." - -She laid some emphasis on the last words; and Chartley gazed in her -face as if to learn the interpretation thereof, "There can, indeed, be -no harm in that," he rejoined: "nor in telling her any thought of my -mind towards her." - -Constance was about to reply; but, looking up, she saw the eyes of her -uncle fixed upon her, with a meaning smile upon his lip, as if he -thought she had already made a conquest of Lord Chartley. The -conversation between them then paused; and Lord Calverly, crossing to -where they stood, proposed to lead the young nobleman, who was partly -his guest, partly his prisoner, to the lodging which had been prepared -for him, his friend Sir William Arden, and their attendants. Chartley -followed in silence, and found everything done that it was possible to -do to render his residence at Chidlow pleasant. - -The old lord was all courtesy and kindness. In his usual pompous tone, -he excused what he called the poverty of the furniture, though it was -in reality of a very splendid description. He declared the bed was not -half large enough, though it would have afforded room to turn in, to -at least six well-grown persons. The plumes of feathers too, at the -top of the posts, he declared were in a bad fashion, as well as the -hangings of the bed, and the tapestry of the bedroom somewhat faded. -The antechamber and the chamber adjoining were well enough, though -somewhat confined, he said; but he excused their narrowness, on -account of that part of the building being the most ancient of all, -the tower having been built by William the Bastard. - -"Our Norman ancestors," he said, "thought more of defence than -convenience; but we have larger apartments in the main building, where -Lord Chartley will always be received as an honoured guest. And now, -my dear young lord," he continued, "though I grieve in some sort to be -made, as it were, your jailer, yet in some sort I rejoice; for I can -lighten your captivity, or, to call it by a better name, your -wardship. I would fain have it as mild as may be, and, though I am -responsible to the king for your person, yet I would only secure you -by bolts and bars of words, and fetters of air. Give me your promise, -as knight and nobleman, as you did this morning, that you will make no -attempt to escape, and then roam whithersoever you will. I will set no -spies upon you. You have then only to fancy yourself a guest in my -poor mansion, and all the pangs of imprisonment are gone." - -"A thousand thanks, my noble friend," replied Chartley. "My promise I -freely give; but it were better for both you and me that your -forbearance and my engagement should have a limit. Let it be from -month to month. Thus, the first of every month I present myself as -your prisoner, and then you can renew your kind permission if you -please, or not." - -"Agreed, agreed," cried Lord Calverly. "It is a marvellous good -arrangement. The rooms of your friend, Sir William Arden, an -exceedingly good and valiant knight, though somewhat more familiar -with the battle field than with bower or hall, are immediately above -you; the rooms of your own attendants below. The truckle beds in the -antechamber are somewhat small, but will serve two of the knaves well -enough. And now I leave you, with a warning that our repast will be -upon the board within the hour.--Ha, here comes Sir William Arden -across the court, conducted by my cousin John. I will tell him of our -supper hour as we pass; but he does not spend much time on his -apparel, I should think." - -"Good faith, he is well apparelled in his own high qualities," replied -Chartley, "however he be dressed. The wool of a sheep and the entrails -of a silkworm make but a poor addition in my eyes to a man's own -worth--but," he added, not willing that his bluff friend should be -undervalued, even by one who esteemed wealth as a high quality, "the -plainness of Arden's apparel is from choice and not necessity. -Doubtless, you know, my lord, that in worldly wealth he is as well -furnished as in qualities of heart." - -"Nay, nay, I did not know it," said Lord Calverly, with a look of much -interest. "I thought he was but one of the knights of your household." - -"My mother's first cousin," replied Chartley, "which is the cause of -his attachment to myself." - -"Nay, nay, your own high merits," said Lord Calverly, with a sliding -bow, and took his leave. - -In a few minutes more, Sir William Arden entered Chartley's room, with -a gay air. - -"Well, boy," he exclaimed, "here you are a prisoner. Think yourself -happy that you have not been gored by the boar's tusks. Good faith, he -wounds deep where he strikes. That old fool, our host, has stopped me -for five minutes in the court, with a panegyric on your merits, and -looked much surprized when I told him the plain truth, to wit, that -you are a foolish mad-headed boy, who will need fifty such hard -lessons as you have received, before you get some grains of common -sense beaten into you." - -Arden threw himself on a seat in the window, as he spoke, and gazed -out, little attending to Chartley's answer, which consisted but of -some words of course. He remained silent, even for a minute or two -after; but then, turning sharply round, he said-- - -"Tell me, Chartley, what has happened to that sweet girl, Iola? She -that was bright is dull; she, who was gay, is sad; she, whose cheek -was like the rose, is now like a lily bending amongst its green -leaves, bowed down with drops of dew." - -"Nay, I know not," answered Chartley, leaning his head upon his hand, -and bending his eyes upon the table. - -"Then, what's the matter with you, my lord?" rejoined Sir William -Arden; "for yours is the same case as hers. You are sad where you were -gay; you are stupid where you were sharp; you look like a pipped hen -instead of a rosy bumpkin." - -"Methinks my present situation were enough to account for all this," -replied Chartley. - -"Come, come. That will not do, my lord," answered his friend. "I have -seen you in much worse plight, when we were taken by the brown fellows -at Tripoli, and you were then as gay as a lark. Better you should have -some one to consult with. Tell me in a word, then. Were you making -love to this dear little lady, when you were out with her the whole -night in the forest? It was a great temptation, truly. I was half -inclined at supper to make an old fool of myself, and say sweet things -to pretty Constance, just to console her for the empty babbling of Ned -Hungerford." - -Chartley still leaned his arm upon the table, and remained in thought. -It was not a usual mood with him; for, generally, the first emotions -of his heart soonest found utterance; but new passions will produce -new conduct. For the first time in his life, he felt inclined to be -angry at his acts being inquired into, even by a friend, for the -purposes of friendship. But he felt that it was foolish and wrong; -and, being a very imperfect creature, after a brief struggle, he went -into quite the opposite extreme. - -"You are too sharp a questioner, Arden," he said, with a laugh, which -had somewhat of his old gaiety in it; "but I'll answer your question -manfully. I do not think the name of love ever passed my lips during -that whole night." - -"Ay, ay," cried the bluff knight; "but talking of love is not making -it." - -"Perhaps not," answered Chartley; "but, if I did make it, it was -without intention. One thing, however, I feel too well, that, if I did -not make love, I learned to love; and that is much worse. But it were -worse still, Arden, should I have taught her to love too." - -"Why so?" asked Sir William Arden, with a start. - -"And yet I cannot think it," said Chartley, pursuing his own course of -thought. "No, no, God forbid! This paleness, this sadness, may have a -thousand other causes." - -"But how now? What's the matter?" asked Arden, again. "Why should you -wish yourself unloved? Remember, young man, when once put on, you -cannot strip off love like a soiled jerkin. The honest man and true -seeks no love that he cannot wear for ever--at least, till the garment -drops off of itself." - -"You do not know. You do not understand," said Chartley, impatiently. -"The lady is contracted, I tell you, to this Lord Fulmer--ay, -contracted in infancy, by every tie but the mere last ceremony of the -church." - -"And did she not tell you?" demanded Arden. "That was wrong, very -wrong." - -"'Tis you who are wrong," replied Chartley. "Why should she tell me? -How should she tell me, when I never spoke to her of love? What my -manner said, I know not; but there was not one word uttered by me -which could give her a plea for relating to me all her private -history. I thought I should have plenty of opportunity of speaking -boldly, at an after time; and, alarmed and agitated as she was, I -would not for the world have said or done aught that could add to what -she felt. Since then, I have learned that she was contracted, when a -child, to this Lord Fulmer; but that, educated as he has been at the -court of Burgundy, they have never met from infancy till now." - -"Damnation!" cried Sir William Arden, striding up and down the room. -"This is the most unpleasant thing I ever had to deal with! And you -forced to live in the same house with him too. In fortune's name, what -will you do, my dear boy?" - -"As best I may," answered Chartley. "Perhaps 'twere as well, Arden, to -resume the appearance, at least, of all my old light spirits. At the -worst, she will then but tax me with levity; and, if the feelings she -has taught me have been at all learned by herself, she will soon be -brought to believe that I am unworthy, because careless, of her -affections, and feel the less regret at the sacrifice she must make." - -"Don't resume, or assume anything, my dear lord," answered Sir William -Arden. "Be what you are, seem what you are at all times. Confound me -all men that walk in vizards! The best result always comes of the most -straightforward course. But I will go and change these travel-soiled -garments, and think of it all while I am getting the dust out of my -eyes.--By the Lord that lives," he continued, looking out at the -window, "there comes the abbess of St. Clare into the court, with -Heaven knows how many more people. The castle will be too full, and I -shall have to share my room with her. Well, thank Heaven for all -things. She is a merry little fat soul, and will help us to laugh care -away." - -Thus saying, he turned and left his friend, who was not ill-satisfied, -on the whole, at having been forced into making a confidant of one, on -whose honour, integrity, and good sense he could firmly rely. - - - - -CHAPTER XXIII. - - -There was a man walking in the woods, with a slight limp in his gait. -He was coarsely but comfortably dressed, and had something very like a -Cretan cap upon his head. His face was a merry face, well preserved in -wine or some other strong liquor; and, from the leathern belt, which -girt his brown coat close round his waist, stuck out, on the one side -a long knife, and on the other the chanter of a bagpipe. The bag, -alas, was gone. - -He looked up at the blue clear sky. He looked up at the green leaves, -just peering from the branches over his head; and, as he went, he -sang; for his pipes had been spoiled by Catesby's soldiery, and his -own throat was the only instrument of music left him. - - -SONG. - - Oh, merry spring, merry spring! - With sunshine on thy back, and dew upon thy wing, - Sweetest bird of all the year, - How I love to see thee here, - And thy choristers to hear, - As they sing. - - Oh happy time, happy time! - When buds of hawthorn burst, and honeysuckles climb, - And the maidens of the May, - Hear the sweet bells as they play, - And make out what they say - In their chime. - - Oh jolly hours, jolly hours! - Of young and happy hearts, in gay and pleasant bowers, - Could I my spring recall, - I'd be merrier than all; - But my year is in the fall - Of the flowers. - - Still, I feel there comes a day - Far brighter, than e'er shone upon this round of clay, - When life with swallow's wing - Shall find another spring, - And my spirit yet shall sing, - In the ray. - - -Thus sang Sam the piper, as, with his rolling gait, but at a good -pace, he walked on from the high road, running between Atherston and -Hinckley, down the narrower walk of the forest, which led, past the -cottage of the woodman, to the bank of the stream. His was a merry -heart, which sought and found happiness wherever it could be met with, -and bore misfortune or adversity as lightly as any heart that ever was -created. Oh, blessed thing, that cheerfulness of disposition, which -makes its own sunshine in this wintry world--blessed whencesoever it -comes, but most blessed when it springs from a fountain of conscious -rectitude, a calm unspotted memory, and a bright high hope! - -I cannot say that this was exactly the case with our good friend Sam; -but he had a wonderful faculty, notwithstanding, of forgetting past -pains and shutting his eyes to coming dangers. His wants were so few, -that he could entertain but small fear of their not being satisfied; -and, though his desires were somewhat more extensive, yet the rims of -a trencher and a pottle pot were sufficient to contain them. -Apprehensions, he entertained none; cares he had long before cast to -the winds; and by circumscribing his pleasures and his necessities, -within the smallest possible limits, it was wonderful how easily he -walked under the only pack he had to carry through the world. Other -men's sorrows and misfortunes, the strife of nations, intestine wars, -portents, or phenomena, acts of violence and crime, I may say, -afforded him amusement, without at all impugning poor Sam's kindness -of heart or goodness of disposition; for all I mean to say is, that -they gave him something to gossip about. Now gossiping and singing -were Sam's only amusements, since a brutal soldier had cut his bag in -twain. Drinking was with him a necessary evil, which he got over as -soon as possible, whenever he had the means. - -He was now on his way from Hinckley, to disgorge upon the abbey -miller, who lived near the bridge, all the budget of news he had -collected at that little town, and other places during the last -fortnight or three weeks. He would willingly have bestowed a part of -the stock upon Boyd the woodman; but he did not venture even to think -of doing so, inasmuch as Boyd had always affected to be as great an -enemy to gossip as the miller was a friend. - -The summer sunshine, however, coming a month or two before its time, -had lured Boyd to his door; and there he sat, with a large strong -knife in his hand, and sundry long poles of yew and other wood, -fashioning arrows with the greatest possible skill. It was wonderful -to behold how straight, and round, and even, he cut them without -compass or rule, or any other implement but the knife. Then too, how -neatly he adjusted the feathers to the shaft, from a bundle of grey -goose quills that lay on his left hand. Heads indeed were wanting; but -Boyd thought to himself, "I will bring six or eight score from -Tamworth when next I go. At all events it is well to be prepared." - -As he thus thought, the step of the piper, coming down the road, met -his ear, and he looked up; but Sam would have passed him by with a -mere "good morning," for he stood in some awe of Master Boyd, had not -the woodman himself addressed him, in a tone that might be called -almost kindly, saying: - -"Well, Sam. How goes the world with you? You have got a new coat and -hosen, I see." - -"Ay, thanks to the young lord's gold pieces," answered Sam. "He paid -well and honestly; and I took a mighty resolution, and spent it on my -back rather than on my belly." - -"Ay, some grace left!" exclaimed Boyd. "But what has happened to thy -pipes, man? They used always to be under thine elbow, and not stuck -into thy belt." - -"Those rascal troopers slit my bag," answered the piper; "and I shall -have to travel through three counties ere I get another. I lost a -silver groat, I am sure, by the want of it this very morning; for -there was a bright company at Hinckley, and some of them speaking the -Scottish tongue. Now every Scot loves the bagpipe." - -"But not such pipes as yours," answered Boyd. "Theirs are of a -different make. But who were these people, did you hear?" - -"Nay, I asked no names," replied Sam; "for Scots do not like to be -questioned. But there was a fair lady with them--very fair and very -beautiful still, though the spring tide of her life had gone by--and -the people called her Highness." - -The woodman mused, and then inquired: "Were they all Scottish people?" - -"Nay, some were English," answered Sam, "gallants of the king's court, -I judge, and speaking as good English as you or I do. But there were -Scottish persons of quality too, besides the lady who was so, I am -sure--for what English princess should she be?" - -"And were they all so gaily dressed then?" asked Boyd, in the same -musing tone. - -"Some were, and some were not," replied the piper; "but the lady -herself was plainest of them all, more like a nun than a princess. But -you can see them with your own eyes if you like; for they will pass by -in half an hour, if they keep to the time at which they said they -would set out. They are going to offer at St. Clare; and you may plant -yourself at the gate, or under a tree by the roadside, and they will -all pass you like a show." - -"I will," replied the woodman; and, rising from his seat, he put his -hat, which had been lying beside him, on his head, and was striding -away, when suddenly, seeming to recollect himself, he turned back, -saying to the piper, "I dare say thou art thirsty and hungry too, Sam. -Come in with me, and thou shalt have a draught of ale, and a hunch of -ewe-milk cheese." - -It was an invitation not to be refused by the piper, to whom meat and -drink rarely came amiss. He accordingly followed, and received what -was proffered gratefully. The woodman waited not to hear his thanks, -but, having seen him drink a moderate quart of ale, sent him away with -well nigh half a loaf of brown bread and a lump of cheese as large as -his two fists. Then, leaving his huge dog to watch the house, he, -himself, took his departure, and walked with a rapid pace to the road -which the piper had mentioned. There he stationed himself under the -very tree by which he had been standing on a night eventful to him, -when he had slain one of the king's couriers or posts. One would have -thought the memory must have been painful; but it seemed to affect him -not in the least. He stood and gazed upon the very spot where the man -had fallen; and, had there not been rain since then, the blood would -have been still upon the stones; but, if there was any change in his -countenance at all, it was merely that his brow somewhat relaxed, and -a faint smile came upon his lip. "It was the hand of justice," he said -to himself. "Yet 'tis strange there has been no inquiry. I went in and -touched the body; but it did not bleed. The inanimate corpse -recognised the hand of the avenger, and refused to accuse."[4] - - ---------------- - -[Footnote 4: He referred, of course, to the superstitious notion -prevalent not alone at that time but for long afterwards, that if the -body of a murdered man was touched by the hand of his assassin, the -wound of which he died would bleed. I may remark that such -superstitions were recognised even in Scottish courts of justice long -after they were extinct in England.] - ---------------- - - -He waited for some time, every now and then looking up the road, and -sometimes bending his head to listen. At length he caught the sound of -horses' feet coming at a slow pace, and making but little noise; for, -as I have said elsewhere, the road was sandy. He then looked up the -hill, and saw, coming slowly down, in no very regular order, a party -of from twenty to five and twenty persons, male and female. Without -waiting for anything but the first casual glance, he withdrew a little -further from the road, amongst the high bushes which skirted the -forest all round, intermingled with a few taller trees. There, where -he could see without being seen, he paused, and crossed his arms upon -his chest, looking intently through an aperture in the young green -leaves, which afforded a good view of a considerable part of the road. -At the end of some three or four minutes after he had taken his -station, the cavalcade began to appear. It was headed by a lady on a -fine grey horse, which she managed well and gracefully. The -description given of her appearance by the wandering musician was -quite correct, so far as it went. She was very beautiful, and her -skin, most delicately fair and soft, without a wrinkle. Her hair, -braided across the forehead, in a mode not usual in England, seemed -once to have been nut brown, but was now somewhat streaked with grey. -Her figure too was exceedingly fine, though not above the middle -height; but it had lost the great delicacy of youth, and assumed the -beauties of a more mature age. Her dress was exceedingly plain, -consisting of a grey riding-gown, cape, and hood, which had fallen -back upon her shoulders; but there was an air of graceful dignity in -her whole figure which was not to be mistaken. The expression of her -countenance was dignified also; but it was exceedingly grave--grave -even to melancholy. - -A number of much gayer-looking personages succeeded, and some of their -dresses were exceedingly beautiful and even splendid; but the eye of -the woodman--as that of most other people would have done--fixed upon -that lady alone, was never removed from her for an instant, and -followed her down the road till the trees shut her from his sight. -Then, after pausing for a moment or two, with his gaze firmly fixed -upon the ground, he cast himself down in the long grass, and buried -his face in his hands. - - - - -CHAPTER XXIV. - - -The hall was as light as day; for Lord Calverly was fond of a glare. -The feast was as delicate as he could have desired, and even the -critical taste of Sir Edward Hungerford found nothing to criticise. -The arrangement of the guests, however, was not altogether that which -best suited their several inclinations. There were many, with whom we -have little or nothing to do, who might, or might not, be placed as -they would have placed themselves; but, certainly, with regard to Iola -and Chartley, such was not the case; for she was seated between her -uncle and Lord Fulmer, while Chartley was at some distance from her, -on the opposite side of the table. Let the mind say what it would, the -heart told her she would rather have had him near. Her ear thirsted -for the tones of his voice, and her eye wandered for a moment, from -time to time, to his face, with a glance withdrawn as soon as given, -but with an impulse she could not controul. She was very young, and -very inexperienced, and some excuse must be made for her. She wished -to do all that was right, to avoid all that was wrong; but the heart -was rebellious, and would have its own way. - -Constance, too, could have wished something changed in her position. -Sir William Arden, it is true, had contrived to place himself on her -left; and with that part of the arrangement she was very well -satisfied; but Sir Edward Hungerford occupied the other side, and -there was hardly any one in all the hall whom she would not have -preferred. - -"Be merry, be merry, my friends," said excellent Lord Calverly, who -perceived that, for some reason or another, his guests were not as -cheerful as they might have been. "Let us all be gay; for in these -troublous times, when one sits down to the merry evening meal, with -friendly faces round us, it is never possible to tell when we shall -all meet again." - -"By St. Paul, that's a topic well calculated to promote hilarity!" -said Sir William Arden in a low voice to Constance; "and, to say -truth, dear lady, the castle hall does not seem to me so gay a place -as the abbey refectory." - -"I begin to think," said Constance, "that the calm shade of the -cloister may, upon the whole, contain more cheerfulness than the -laughter-loving world." - -"Pooh! We must not let you think so," said Sir William Arden. "Cannot -Sir Edward Hungerford persuade you of the contrary? He has been -trying, I think." - -He spoke in a whisper, and his words produced a slight smile, but no -blush, upon Constance's face, and her only reply was: - -"Hush, hush!" - -"Nay, then, if he can't succeed, I must try," continued Sir William; -"though, to say truth, it would be somewhat like an old suit of armour -dancing a quick step. But why should you not be happy in the world, as -well as your fair cousin?" - -"Is she happy?" asked Constance, with a sigh. - -"Ay, that is a question, in regard to which I have some doubt," -answered the good knight; "but, no more at present; the popinjay is -turning round. Now, I'll warrant, he has discussed the whole question -of the superiority of cendel over laid silk, with that pretty little -thing on his right, who seems to have as many ideas as he has; and, I -will answer for it, half an hour's talk would make them both bankrupt, -so that they have stopped payment for lack of coin." - -"It is marvellous hot to-night, sweet lady Constance," said Sir Edward -turning towards her. "My cheek burns, till I am sure I must be rosy as -a country justice's serving-man." - -"Better that than white and yellow, like a lump of tallow," replied -Sir William Arden, across her. "These people, with their delicate -complexions, drive me mad, as if they thought a man, to be a courtier, -should look like a whey-faced girl, just emptied from the nursery. And -then they must blush too, and find the air oppressive; but there is -one way of banishing the red rose from your cheek. Faint, Hungerford, -faint outright! Then you'll be as pale as usual." - -"Did'st thou ever hear, fair lady, such a blustering old son of Mars -as this?" demanded Sir Edward Hungerford. "He thinks no one can fight -but himself, unless he be full of big oaths, with a face like ebony, -and a skin like a rhinoceros." - -"Nay, I know thou can'st fight, Hungerford, like a man," answered Sir -William Arden. "More shame for thee to talk like a woman, and dress -like a mountebank. If thou didst take as much care of thy pretty -person in the field, as thou dost in the hall, thou wouldst be a worse -soldier than thou art." - -"Gallantly said!" replied the other knight; and, turning again to -Constance, he continued the conversation with her, saying: "He is not -bad at main, this worthy man. Though, to hear him talk, we might -suppose him one of the devils; but it is all talk, dear lady. He is at -heart as gentle as a lamb, except when he is in the field; and then, -of course, he fights for company; but, polish is impossible with him. -His mother forgot to lick him when he was young, I suppose; and so we -have the bear in his native state." - -Sir William Arden laughed, though he was the object of the sarcasm; -and, looking round at Constance, he said: - -"It is all quite true, lady, as true as what I said of him. We are -famous for drawing each other's characters. So now, you have heard us -described each by the other, say which you like best." - -"Good, mighty good!" exclaimed Hungerford. "That is an offer of his -hand and heart." - -"Well, so be it," answered Sir William Arden, with a laugh. "That is -something solid at all events. He can offer nothing but a shadow in a -slashed doublet, a mere voice and a walking suit of clothes. Echo is -nothing to him, in respect of thinness; and I should fear his -undergoing Narcissus' fate, but that he loves himself better than even -Narcissus, and would not part with his own pretty person for anything -else whatsoever, be it substance or shadow. He will never pine himself -either into a flower or a water-course, as those young gentlemen and -ladies did in days of old." - -"I should be a great fool if I did," replied Hungerford; "but if you -were to begin to melt, Arden, all the world would thaw; for it is -difficult to say whether your head or your heart is the hardest." - -"Why, gentlemen, you are using very bitter words," said the pretty -lady, on the other side of Sir Edward Hungerford. "Really I must -appeal to my good Lord Calverly." - -"Nay, rather let me appeal to you," said Hungerford, in a tender tone; -and thenceforth he continued to talk with her till the supper was -over, which was all she wanted. - -"That shaft is shot," said Arden, resuming the conversation with -Constance, but speaking in a lower tone than before. "You asked but -now, 'Is she happy?' and, good faith, she does not look like it. Her -lips have hardly moved since we sat down to the board; but methinks -that question might be put of every one round. It is not the gay -smile, or the cheerful laugh, that shows a happy heart within; and I -doubt much, if you could see into every bosom along these two ranks of -human things, whether you would not find some hidden care, or some -sorrow that flies the light." - -"That is to say," replied Constance, "that every one who mingles with -the world finds unhappiness in it; a fine argument to keep me out of a -convent, truly. Either your gallantry or your wit halts, Sir William; -for, to my knowledge, there is many a happy heart beats in the -cloister." - -"Are there no masks there?" asked the stout knight. "If not, there are -veils, fair Constance; and, take my word for it, sooner or later, -there come regrets and repinings, longings to see the world that has -been renounced, and pluck some of the fruit of the pleasant tree of -knowledge, that bitter sweet, the pleasant berries of which tempt the -eye from afar, although there is now no serpent hid amongst the -foliage." - -"But look at my good aunt, the abbess," answered the young lady. "She -has none of these regrets and repinings that you mention. She is -always merry, cheerful, contented." - -"Ay, but hers is a case by itself," answered Arden. "She can get out -when she likes; and a good creature she is. Her life is as easy as a -widow's. No, no. Take my advice, and think not of a convent." - -"Why, what would you have me do in the wide world?" asked Constance, -half gaily, half sadly. - -"Why, marry to be sure," replied the good knight, "and have a score of -cherub babes, to cheer you with their pleasant faces. Let me tell you, -it is like having heaven round your knees, and you are not a whit the -less likely in the end to reach the heaven overhead." - -"But suppose no one would have me," answered Constance, with a smile. - -"Try all the young fellows first, and then try me," answered Sir -William, bluffly, but with a light laugh at the same time, which -softened the point of his words; and Constance answered-- - -"No, no. A woman can try no one. I must be wooed and won." - -"On my life, if I thought you could," murmured Arden to himself, "I -think I would try;" but the words did not reach Constance's ear; and, -after a short pause of thought, the old knight said abruptly, "I don't -like your fair cousin's looks." - -"And yet they are fair looks too," answered Constance. - -"Ay, so are my cousin Chartley's," said the knight; "but I don't like -his looks either." - -"They are gay enough, surely," replied Constance. "See, he is laughing -even now." - -"Did you ever see a will-o'-the-wisp?" asked Sir William. - -"Yes," said Constance. "What of that?" - -"They flit over deep morasses and dangerous spots," answered the -knight. "Don't you let Chartley's laugh mislead you. See how he holds -his head in the air, with his nostril spread, and his lip curling. Be -sure, when he laughs with such a look as that, there is something very -bitter at his heart." - -"But they say he is half a prisoner here," rejoined Constance. "That -is enough to make him sad." - -"Would that were all," replied Arden; "but let us talk no more of him. -It is your fair cousin I am thinking of. When she sat opposite to me -at the abbey, a week or two ago, her eyes were like stars that -glistened up instead of down. Her brow was smooth and clear. Her lip -played in smiles with every thought. I would fain know what it is has -clouded that ivory brow, what it is weighs down that rosy arch, and -sinks the sweeping eye-lashes to her cheek." - -"I cannot tell," answered Constance, with a little mental reservation; -"but I suppose great changes coming, when they are foreseen, will make -the heart somewhat pensive." - -"Pensive, but not sorrowful," answered Arden. "Well, well," he added, -"I see your uncle moving in his seat, as if we should not be long side -by side. Let me see--when you were a little smiling child, just -toddling about your nurse's knee, I was in arms, dealing hard blows in -more than one stricken field. There is a mighty difference between our -ages, some four and twenty years perhaps--Nay, do not be afraid. I am -not going to ask you--but, methinks, a young thing like you may place -some confidence in a man old enough to be your father; and all I can -say is if you, or your fair cousin, need counsel of a head that has -had some experience, or help from an arm none of the weakest, you may -rely upon a heart which has been ever believed true to friend and foe, -to man or woman. There, my dear child, I have said my say. It is for -you to act upon it, as you think fit." - -Sunk almost to a whisper with much emotion, the voice of Constance -answered-- - -"I thank you deeply;" and the next moment, according to a bad custom, -even then prevalent, the ladies of the party rose, and left the -gentlemen to pursue their revel unchecked. - -We must go back a little, however; for during the meal we have -followed only one little group at that long table. What was the -conduct, what were the thoughts of Lord Fulmer, while all this was -passing? He sat beside Iola in anguish, the anguish of doubt and -jealousy; and, conscious that his mood was not fitted to win or -please, he struggled with it sorely. He determined to use every -effort, both to conquer himself, and to gain her love; but it is -difficult to conquer an enemy without when there is an enemy within; -and the very effort embarrassed him. If he sat silent for a minute or -two, he was revolving what he should say. When he did speak, it was -not the tone or the words of the heart which came forth; the whole was -studied; the effort was too evident. He felt it, yet could not help -it; and Iola's reply did not generally aid or encourage him. It was -courteous but cold, civil but not kind--very brief too; and the moment -it was uttered, she fell into thought again. It was clear there was a -struggle in her mind, as well as his, and the only difference was, -that she did not strive to conceal it. He was angry with her and with -himself; with her, because she did not put on at least the semblance -of regard she did not feel; with himself, because he knew that his own -want of self-command was every moment betraying the interests of a -passion which was growing upon him more and more, even under doubt and -disappointment. Still he struggled, still he strove to please, or, at -least, to amuse; but it was in vain. His words were cold and formal, -and Iola was grave, absent, thoughtful, so that no conversation lasted -more than a minute. At length he gave it up. He struggled no more. He -yielded to the feelings within; but they impelled him in a very -different course from that of Iola. She saw, heard, marked, very -little of what passed at the table. Buried in her own thoughts, she -only roused herself from time to time, to reply to her uncle, who sat -at her side, or to answer the abbess, who was placed opposite, or to -give a momentary timid look towards the face of Chartley. - -Fulmer, on the contrary, was full of eager observation, quickened by -the passions in his heart. "I will know all," he thought. "I will -force Hungerford to tell me all--ay, this very night. I cannot live in -this torture any longer? and if I find it as I think, that man shall -answer me with his heart's best blood. What right had he to win the -affections of my contracted wife. He must have known that she was so. -Every one knew it; but I will be satisfied. Hungerford shall explain -his words before he lays his head upon his pillow." - -He could not be content to wait for that explanation, however; and, as -I have said, he watched, in order to ascertain, as far as possible, -how far the evil, which he suspected, had gone. Three times he saw the -eyes of Iola raised for an instant to Chartley's face, and then as -speedily withdrawn. Oh, what would he have given, in some mysterious -glass, to have seen a picture of the emotions which were passing in -her breast. The first time she looked at him, her colour was -heightened the moment she withdrew her eyes. He could not tell why, -and he puzzled himself to divine the cause. Was it that Chartley was -talking with another, and that his tone was gay? Or was it that she -found the eyes of the abbess upon her, and, blushed from -consciousness. The second time she looked that way, a slight passing -smile followed--the mere shadow of a smile. Was it that Chartley, -fallen into a fit of absence, committed some strange error, which made -those around him laugh. The next glance she gave left her in deeper -thought than ever; and to him her eyes seemed to swim in bright dew; -but she dropped the deep veil of long silken lashes over the -glistening drop, and it was hidden. - -In the mean time, what marked he in Chartley's conduct? It was the -same in some respects as Iola's, but different in others. He often -looked to the spot where she was seated; but it was in a calmer, -firmer, less timid manner. Once or twice his gaze was earnest, intent, -full of deep thought. There was no levity in it, none of the -confidence of knowing that he was loved. It was a look of almost -painful interest, deep, tender, grave; and once he fixed his eyes upon -Fulmer himself, and gazed at him long, notwithstanding an angry -expression which came upon the young lord's face. Busied altogether -with what was passing in his own mind, Chartley saw not that irritable -look, never fancied that it was called up by his own. He scanned every -feature of his face, as if he were scrutinizing some inanimate object -which could not perceive or comprehend the examination it was -undergoing. And yet that gaze almost drove Fulmer mad; and even the -way in which it was withdrawn, the fit of thought which succeeded, and -then the start, and the resumption of conversation with those around, -all irritated the young man more. - -Fortunately, some time elapsed before the gentlemen there present were -left without the restraint of ladies' presence; for Fulmer had time to -recover himself; and, though still highly irritated, to recollect what -was due to Iola, to himself, and to his entertainer. He resolved -to bridle his passion, and to guide it; and, could he have kept -the resolutions which he formed--he did not, as the reader will -see--though not altogether good ones, they were much better than the -wild impulses of passion. - -"There must be no quarrel _about her_," he thought. "I must not mingle -her name is our enmity--I have no right to do that. 'Tis easy to -provoke him upon some other subject; nor will I too hastily do that, -for the good old lord's sake. I will irritate him by degrees, till the -actual offence comes from him; and then to justify myself with my -sword is a right. I can do it with all courtesy too, and I will." - -If man's resolutions are generally rendered vain and fruitless, by the -force of circumstances, when they affect things over which he has no -control, it is sad to think that they should be so often rendered -ineffectual, by passions, when they refer only to his own conduct, -over which he should have the mastery. So, however, it is -often--almost always--I had well nigh said, ever. It was not otherwise -with Fulmer. His resolutions passed away, under the heat of his -temper, like the shadowy clouds of morning. Ere five minutes were -over, he was in full career to irritate, if not to insult, Chartley. -His resolutions to be courteous, to be moderate, were forgotten, and -his tone was very offensive. - -But the calm indifference of manner on Chartley's part, while it -provoked him, frustrated his purpose. His rival, for as such he now -fully looked upon him, heard any words he addressed to him calmly, -replied to them briefly, and then seemed to withdraw his thoughts from -him altogether. It was impossible to engage him in any irritating -conversation, his answers were so short, so tranquil, so conclusive; -and Fulmer, driven at length to seek more plain and open means of -offence, began to touch upon the cause of Chartley's having fallen -under the king's displeasure, thinking that thus, at least, he should -draw him forth from his reserve. But here old Lord Calverly at once -interposed. - -"Nay, nay, my noble friend," he said. "These are subjects that are -never spoken of, except when they are matters of mere business; but -methinks it is time to seek repose. My noble Lord Chartley, I will -once more conduct you to your lodging. After to-night, you will be -able, methinks, to find your way yourself;" and he at once rose from -the table. - - - - -CHAPTER XXV. - - -Each of the guests retired to his chamber; but, for some little time, -there was a considerable degree of bustle and movement in the castle, -pages and servants hurrying to and fro in attendance upon their -masters, and serving men clearing away the dishes from the hall, while -scullions scraped the trenchers, and the pantry-men cleaned out the -cups. Such operations however were not long in the performance; and -gradually the whole building resumed its quiet. A light might be seen -in a window here and there; and a lamp, which burned all night long in -the high tower, served as a sort of beacon to any traveller wandering -in the darkness, showing him afar where Chidlow castle stood. The -battlements all around were dark and solitary; for there were very -strict laws at that time in force, against collecting what might be -considered a garrison, in the fortified houses of the nobility, or -maintaining, except in a few special cases, watch and ward within the -old baronial castles. The policy of Richard, indeed, seems to have -been somewhat similar to that which was pursued in France, nearly two -centuries later, by the famous Cardinal de Richelieu; and he evidently -aimed at breaking down the feudal power, which had often rendered the -great barons such formidable enemies of the crown. He lived not long -enough, indeed, to carry out his object, or to enforce his laws; but -still the proclamation was in force against giving badges and liveries -to retainers, or, in other words, against maintaining a regular armed -force, arrayed and organised under certain symbols, and independent of -the crown. This law, it is true, was openly violated by many. Every -great house in the land was filled with armed men; badges were -retained, and displayed, in various instances; and many a castle was -as strictly guarded as if it had been a royal fortress. But all who -sought favour or courtly advancement were scrupulous to observe the -king's will; and, as Lord Calverly was one of these, all outward signs -of military precaution had been given up. The chief cannonier had -become the master porter; and the warders were now called porter's -men. The great gates, however, were still closed, bolted, and locked, -the drawbridge raised, and the portcullis let down at the hour of ten; -and the posterns were shut an hour earlier; but, in every other -respect, defensive measures, and, above all, military display, were -abandoned, and an appearance of security was assumed, which, in truth, -no one felt in England during the short reign of Richard III. - -All then was tranquil and quiet in Chidlow castle by half an hour -before midnight; and, although it was evident that some were still -watchers within its walls and towers, yet the greater part of the -guests were sound asleep, and almost all the others preparing for -repose. - -At about a quarter to twelve, however, Lord Fulmer, with a lamp in his -hand, issued forth from his sleeping-chamber, and walked along the -exceedingly narrow passage into which it opened. Our ancestors of that -age, and of the ages before them, were not very careful to provide -broad corridors or staircases for their guests. The greater and the -lesser halls, the gallery, if a castle had one, several nameless -chambers--which were frequently to be found in what poetically would -be called the lady's bower, but which about that time was more -generally denominated the lady's lodging--and, in short, all rooms of -state were spacious and magnificent enough; but many of the bed-rooms -were exceedingly small; and, where they were on a larger scale, for -the reception of more distinguished guests, the neighbouring passages -were curtailed in proportion. - -Along this passage then walked the young nobleman, with a slow and -thoughtful step. He had had time for meditation, and passion had -somewhat cooled down. His irritation had taken a more gloomy and stern -character, but it was not the less persisting. "I will know all," he -thought, "and then judge and act." - -Turning sharply to the right, at the end of the first ten or fifteen -yards, he entered and crossed a large sort of vestibule, occupying one -half of the space in one of the flanking towers. - -It had two windows in it, through one of which the moon was shining -brightly, marking the stone floor with the chequered shadows of the -leaden frame-work. He passed on, however, and then, turning to his -left, paused and opened a door, which admitted him to a little -ante-room. Two or three small beds were ranged around, of that kind -called by the French "_lit de sangle_;" but they were not occupied, -for their intended tenants, consisting of a page and two ordinary -attendants, were seated at a little table in the middle of the room, -gambling with dice. They all started up, however, when the young -nobleman entered; and, in answer to his question, whether Sir Edward -had retired to sleep, replied:-- - -"Oh, dear no, my lord. He will not go to bed for some time;" and the -page, stepping forward, opened the door of the inner chamber, saying -aloud, "Lord Fulmer, sir." - -On advancing into the room, while the boy held back the tapestry, -Fulmer found Sir Edward Hungerford, with another person, standing -before a table, on which was spread out a large piece of -violet-coloured satin, whereunto were being applied, by the inferior -personage, an enormous pair of shears. The entrance of the young -nobleman made them both start; and the first exclamation of Sir Edward -was, "My God, you've cut it askew. Heaven and earth, what shall we do -now? There will never be enough in that corner to purfle the sleeves." - -"I beg your worship's pardon," replied the other, without taking any -more notice of Lord Fulmer than his master had done. "There will be -quite enough. If I cut it slant so, from the corner to the middle, it -will just leave what is needful for the bands." - -"I want to speak with you, Hungerford," said the young nobleman. "I -pray you, send this fellow away." - -"Wait a moment, wait a moment," replied the knight. "This is the most -important thing in life. You can't imagine what trouble it has given -us to devise.--Now, cut away, Master Graine, and let me see how you -will manage it?" - -"Oh, quite easily," answered the other; and, delicately using his -shears, he cut the satin straight across, and then divided one part of -it into two, from which he again pared two long strips, pointing to -the whole in triumph, and saying, "There, worshipful sir, I told -you--" - -"Yes, yes, I see, I see," said Hungerford, in a meditative tone. "It -is a great question settled. Now, take them away; and, remember, I -shall want it by to-morrow night." - -The man bowed and withdrew; and then, for the first time, Sir Edward -turned to Lord Fulmer, and invited him to be seated, saying, "That was -a momentous business, Fulmer; and your imprudent entrance so suddenly -had well nigh spoiled all." - -"I did not know that you were engaged upon matters of life and death," -replied Fulmer, bitterly, lifting up the tapestry at the same time, to -see that the tailor had closed the door behind him. - -"I have somewhat of less importance to say," he then continued, -seating himself, "but still of some moment to me." - -"What is it, my dear lord?" asked Hungerford, taking a chair -opposite. "I can conceive nothing very important, when compared with -the cutting out of a surcoat. However, I have seen that you have been -uneasy--or to speak more accurately, nearly as hot in your skin as a -poor devil of a lollard, whom I once beheld, when I was a boy, burned -in a pitch barrel. He looked just as uncomfortable as you did at -supper, when one could get a sight of his face through the flames. I -wish you could bear as easy a mind as I do, and see the little value -of things that men make themselves uncomfortable about--and angry -about into the bargain, it would seem." - -"Nay, I am not in the least angry," replied Fulmer, who believed he -was speaking truth. "I merely want to hear some simple facts to which -you alluded somewhat mysteriously this morning. Marriage, you know, -Hungerford," he continued, affecting a light and jesting tone, the -better to conceal the bitter feelings within, "marriage, you know, is -a matter of destiny; but, when a man is about to unite his fate to a -fair lady, it is quite as well that he should be made aware of all -previous passages, in order that he may take his measures -accordingly." - -"Upon my word, I disagree with you," answered Hungerford, with a -smile. "No man should ever do anything that can make him uneasy. Calm -and perfect indifference to all things in life is the only means of -obtaining that greatest blessing in life--tranquillity. If we have a -stock of enthusiasm, which must be spent upon something, it is much -better to spend it upon what you call trifles, because, if any -misadventure happens, the evil is easily repaired. Now, if when you -came in just now, you had made Master Graine irremediably damage that -piece of satin, which I should have considered the greatest misfortune -in the world, I could send a man on horseback to London or York, to -get me another piece, and thus the evil is cured. But, if a man cuts -another man's throat, or makes his wife hate him by black looks and -cold words, he cannot give his friend a new throat, or send to York -for a new love." - -"Pshaw!" exclaimed Fulmer, sharply. "I wish to Heaven you would be -serious but for a moment." - -"I am perfectly serious," replied Hungerford. "The only question is, -which is the best philosophy, yours or mine? However, each man knows -his own nature. What do you wish to ask me?" - -"Simply this," answered Fulmer. "What is the previous acquaintance to -which you alluded with a sneer, this morning, between my contracted -wife, the Lady Iola St. Leger, and that very noble and excellent -gentleman, the Lord Chartley?" - -"With a sneer, my dear lord!" exclaimed Hungerford. "See what it is to -be of an imaginative disposition. I sneered not at all." - -"Then the simple question," rejoined Fulmer, restraining his feelings -with a great effort, "what know you of their acquaintance?" - -"Mighty little, my good lord," replied Sir Edward Hungerford, who was, -to say the truth, a little amused by the eager impetuosity of his -companion, and somewhat inclined to spur him on, merely for the joke's -sake; but, knowing that the affair might have very serious -consequences, he kept to the strict truth, and even within it, though -he could not refrain from playing a little with Fulmer's impatience. -"Be it known unto you then," he continued, "that somewhere about a -fortnight ago--let me see. It was on Monday----" - -"The date matters little," said Fulmer, moodily. "All I want are the -facts." - -"Well, about a fortnight ago, then," continued Hungerford, "as I was -riding from London, I chanced to stumble upon my good friend Lord -Chartley, at the little inn at Kimbolton. The whole place was occupied -by himself and his people; but he kindly made room for me, and gave me -an excellent good supper, prepared by his own cook. The snipes were -excellent; and there was an alaud of salmon, I never tasted anything -better--" - -"Well, well, what then?" said Fulmer, quickly. - -"Why, I thought him too good a companion to be parted with easily," -said Hungerford. "So we passed the evening in talking of Bohemia, -where we had last met, and drawing savoury comparisons between the -cookery of that rude land and good old England. Finding we were -travelling the same way, I joined myself to his train, which was -discreet and well ordered, having a friar to bless the meat, and a -cook to cook it. Good faith, it was a pleasant journey; and I put -myself in mind of the gentleman who gave crumbs to Lazarus; for I took -care to be dressed in purple and fine linen, and with him I fared -sumptuously every day. At length, one evening, after having dallied -away some time at Tamworth, we stopped to sup at the abbey of St. -Clare--an abbey of nuns, you know--" - -"Yes, yes. I know all about it," replied Fulmer. "Go on." - -"I had no inclination to go on, when I was there, I can assure you, my -good lord," said Hungerford, laughing; "for right happily did the -merry little abbess entertain us, and not only supped with us herself, -in the strangers' refectory, but brought a prioress as deaf as a post, -and the two pretty cousins, her nieces, Iola and Constance. The Lady -Iola sat next to my noble friend; and, as a courteous gentleman, he -did his best to entertain her, and, to my thinking, succeeded. I could -have made up my mind to lodge there for the night; but Chartley was -peremptory to go forward to Hinckley. So, after supper, we rode on. -The friar, indeed, remained behind, pretending to be sick; and, when -we had got some two miles through the wood, Chartley suddenly -perceived--how, I know not, for it was dark enough amongst the -trees--that some one had left the train. It turned out to be one of -Sir Charles Weinant's men; for that smooth gentleman was with -us--playing the traitor, if I mistake not. However, Chartley set spurs -to his horse to catch the deserter, telling us to ride on, and he -would overtake us. We good people did as he bade; but we got to -Hinckley before him, and were roused early the next morning from our -beds, by news that his lordship was in danger, and needed our instant -help. Arden was in the saddle in a moment; and away we went pell mell, -getting what intelligence we could, till we came to the wood which -covers the hills over the abbey. There we found the whole place full -of soldiers, searching a bit of the forest ground, for whom or what we -could not learn; and, at length, riding round between the wood and the -abbey, we found Chartley, his tawny Moor, and half a dozen woodmen, -keeping a pass between two banks against Catesby, and a good number of -the king's soldiers." - -He paused, and rubbed his temple, till Lord Fulmer exclaimed:-- - -"Well, what then?" - -"Why, that is all I know, of my own knowledge," answered Hungerford, -"except that Chartley's coat seemed somewhat worse for a night's -lodging in the forest." - -"There is something more, Sir Edward Hungerford," said Fulmer, in a -low, stern, bitter tone. "I must know it." - -"Perhaps it is better to tell the rest," said the knight; "although, -you must remember, my good lord, that I now speak only what I have -gathered from other people's conversation. Of course, Chartley had not -planted himself there, and embroiled himself with the king's troops, -for nothing; and I made out, that his resistance was offered to cover -the retreat of a lady into the convent. She had, by some chance, been -out in the wood at night, and was cut off by the soldiers, who were -searching, it seems, for good old Doctor Morton, the bishop of Ely. -Chartley had met with her, and gallantly escorted her through the -midst of the men; but, to do him all justice, he spoke of her with -knightly reverence; and moreover, I should have told you before, that -this friar of his, who, as I said blessed the meat, was none other -than the good bishop himself, in effecting whose escape Chartley had -the principal share. Thus, he had a personal interest in the whole -matter." - -Fulmer pressed his hand upon his brow, and murmured: "Alone with him -in the wood all night!" - -"Nay, nay, my good lord, do not so disturb yourself," said Hungerford. -"Chartley is a man of very peculiar notions, and doubtless----" - -"Pshaw!" said Lord Fulmer. "I do not disturb myself in the least, -Doubtless, he is full of courtesy, and a man of high honour--All night -in the wood with him!--I will go out upon the ramparts and walk. The -moon is shining clear." - -"You had better keep out of the moonlight, my good lord," said -Hungerford, carelessly. "Stay, I will throw on a hood and come with -you." - -"I would rather be alone," answered Lord Fulmer; and, taking up his -lamp, he left the room. - -Hurrying along the narrow passage, he soon reached that large open -sort of vestibule, which I have mentioned, in one of the square -flanking towers; and there he paused, and stood for a moment or two -with his eyes fixed upon the ground in deep thought. After a while, a -sound, as of voices singing, came upon his ear. At first it did not -wake him from his reverie; but gradually it seemed to steal upon his -senses and call his thoughts, at least in some degree, from that which -had previously occupied them. There were seats on either side; and, -setting down the lamp on one of them, he opened the window which -looked to the south west, and through which the moonlight was -streaming. The music then became more distinct, though it evidently -proceeded from a great distance. It was calm, and sweet, and solemn; a -strain of exquisite melody, not so rich and full in the harmony, -indeed, as the anthems or masses of the Roman church, but yet -apparently of a religious character. It seemed a hymn; and, after -listening for a moment, Fulmer said:-- - -"This is strange! What can it mean? I will go forth and listen. It -seems to come from the wood, there. I shall hear better on the -battlements." - -Descending the narrow winding staircase, which terminated the passage -about ten yards beyond the door of his own apartments, he entered the -inner court, and thence, through a tall archway, reached the outer -court, beyond which lay the ramparts. Then ascending by the steps to -the top of the wall, he walked round, till he had reached a spot -exactly below the window in the square tower. The music, however, had -ceased; and he listened for some minutes in vain, though he thought he -heard a murmur of many voices speaking or reading altogether. - -The momentary excitement of curiosity passed away; and, sitting down -upon a stone bench placed for the warders' temporary repose, ha leaned -his arm upon the battlement, and returned to his dark thoughts. Still, -the calm and solemn scene around, the grey landscape lying stretched -out afar in the moonlight, the waving lines of hill and dale faintly -traced in the dim obscurity, the light mist lying in the hollows, a -bright gleaming line in the distance where the rays fell upon some -sheet of water, the tall dark towers of the castle rising by his side, -the blue sky overhead, flooded in the south west with silver radiance, -and in the north and east speckled with gemlike stars, the motionless -air, the profound silence, seemed to calm and still his angry -feelings, if not to soften or remove them. There are things in life, -which, like frost, harden while they tranquillize. Such was not -altogether the case with him, but still the root of bitterness was in -his heart. - -He paused and thought; but, before many minutes had passed, the music -burst forth again, rising and falling in solemn swell and cadence, -evidently many voices singing some holy song. It came from far; no -articulate sounds reached his ear; but music is a language--a language -understood by the whole earth--speaking grand truths to the heart; -wordless, but more eloquent than all words. If he was not softened -before, he was softened now; if his spirit before had been tied down -to earthly passions, it was now, for a time at least, elevated, above -himself. - -I have said "for a time;" for Richard had described him rightly. He -was a man of varying moods, naturally generous, high-minded, kind, but -subject to all the impulses of the clay, and in whom there was an -everlasting warfare between the mortal and immortal. He thought of -Iola, and her beauty, and the dreams which in his imaginative heart he -had dreamed of her; and still that wild and thrilling strain sounded -in his ears amidst the solemn scene, raising his feelings up, above -selfishness, and worldly lessons, to generous feelings and noble -aspirations. He thought what a grand though melancholy joy it would be -to give her happiness even by the sacrifice of his own. Something of -pride might mingle with it too; for, in the picture of the mind, Iola -was seen confessing that she had misunderstood him, and admiring where -she could not love; but still it was not a low pride; and he felt more -satisfied, more at peace with himself. His eyes wandered over the -space before him, and he recollected how he had seen it that very day, -as he rode towards the castle, lighted up with sunshine, bursting -forth into green life, and full of the song of birds. Now it was all -grey and still, with no sounds, but that faint echo-like hymn, pouring -on the air like the dirge of departed hopes. It seemed a picture of -his own fate, so lately lighted up with bright expectations, and now -all dark and cold. - -Suddenly, on the green slope beyond the walls, he saw a figure--a -woman's figure, clad in white. With a quiet gliding motion, it walked -quickly on; and, ere he had recovered from his surprise, it had -disappeared amongst the first trees at the nearest angle of the wood. -He thought it looked like Iola, that its movements were like hers, so -easy, so effortless, so graceful. He turned towards the place where he -knew her chamber was, and gazed up. There was a light still burning -there, and, as he gazed, a female figure passed across the window. - - - - -CHAPTER XXVI. - - -Had he been chief warder of a beleaguered fort, Lord Fulmer could not -have examined every gate and sally port of the castle more carefully -than he did, when he descended from the walls. The figure which he had -beheld had evidently seemed to come from the castle; but how it had -issued forth he could not divine. Every postern was barred, bolted, -and chained; and the porter, and the porter's men were all snoring in -their dens, of which he had ocular proof before he retired. The fat -old porter, whom he had roused and informed of what he had seen, -treated the matter lightly, saying, half sleeping, half waking, it was -impossible: it must have been the moonlight on the bank, or a white -thorn coming into flower. But, when Fulmer reminded him that the month -of May was still far off, and told him he had seen the figure move for -some distance, he quietly replied-- - -"Then it must have been a spirit. There are plenty hereabout;" and, -lying down on his pallet again, he was asleep before the young -nobleman had quited the lodge. - -Fulmer almost felt inclined to believe that the porter's last -supposition was correct, and that the music he had heard was a strain -of unearthly melody. Perhaps there have been few ages in the world's -history more grossly superstitious than those which immediately -preceded the reformation. The process of darkening the human mind, by -which alone the errors of the church of Rome can be maintained, had -been going on for so many centuries, that it had almost reached -completeness; and the art of printing, the precursor of Luther, had -not yet fulfilled its mission; and though here and there a few great -minds were to be found which shook off the garment of superstition -with which the papal church had liveried the world--though Wicliffe -and John Huss had given the first terrible blow to Rome, yet her -partizans laboured but the more strenuously to retain for her the -shadowy empire she had created. At this very time new saints were -made, and their days appointed to be honoured; and the festivals of -old saints were, in many instances, ordered to receive double -celebration. In England, especially, every false, abominable, and -idolatrous dogma was more sternly and clearly defined, in order to -prevent the escape of the Wicliffites through any ambiguity of -language. It was solemnly declared that not one particle of the -sacramental bread remained bread after consecration, that every drop -of the cup was blood. Pilgrimages, the worship of saints, the -adoration of the cross and of relics, were enjoined under the penalty -of fire; and everything that could lead or tend to superstition was -encouraged and upheld. Taught to believe so much of the supernatural -within the church, it is not wonderful that the great mass of the -people, high and low, should believe in much of the supernatural -beyond the church, and that the priest should encourage them in so -doing. - -Nevertheless, Lord Fulmer was by no means one of the most -superstitious of his class. To doubt the occasional apparition of -spirits, or even devils, he would not have ventured; but to believe -that he had seen one was very different; and, not knowing what to -think, or what solution to give to the mystery, he retired to his -chamber, and lay down to rest. Sleep did not visit his eyes for some -hours; but still he rose early, roused his attendants in the -antechamber, and dressed for the day. He then gazed forth from the -window for a moment or two; but, as something passed before his eyes, -he turned round with a sudden start, and a flushed cheek, and went -out. - -He passed quickly, through the courts, towards the walls; but, at the -foot of the steps, he paused and thought, for a moment or two, and -then mounted to the battlements with a slower step and more tranquil -air. - -About fifty yards in advance was Chartley, the man he sought, walking -tranquilly towards him, with his arms folded on his chest, and his -eyes bent down in meditation. They were now alone together on the -walls; and Fulmer thought that there could be no better time for -saying what he proposed to say than that moment. His mood, however, -had varied from that of the night before; and, at first, he addressed -Lord Chartley courteously enough. - -"Good morning, my lord," he said "Summer is coming on us with a -swallow's wing;" and he turned to walk back with his companion. - -"It is indeed very warm," answered Chartley, mildly; "and the air here -seems temperate and fine." - -There the conversation halted for a moment, for Lord Fulmer made no -answer, and walked on in silence, till they had nearly reached the -angle of the wall. There was a struggle going on within--a struggle -for calmness; for he felt agitation growing upon him. - -At length, however, he said-- - -"I find, my lord, that you are well acquainted with the Lady Iola St. -Leger, and that you rendered her some service a little time ago." - -"Service of no great importance," replied Chantey; "and which any -gentleman would render to any lady." - -"You are, I suppose, aware that she is contracted to me as my future -wife," said Lord Fulmer, turning his eyes full upon Chartley's face. - -"I was not aware of it at the time," answered Chartley, holding his -head very high. "I am now." - -"That near connexion," continued Fulmer, "not only gives me a right, -but requires me, my good lord, to inquire into the nature of the -service that you rendered her, that I may"--he added with a sort of -sarcastic smile, "that I may proportion my thanks to its degree." - -"I require no thanks," answered Chartley, coldly. "Of what is required -of you, my lord, I am no judge. Your right to make the inquiry, I am -not called upon to consider; and the lady herself will doubtless give -you what information she thinks fit upon the subject." - -Fulmer strove to put down the wrath which was rising up in his bosom; -but yet there was a great degree of sharpness in his tone as he -replied-- - -"My right to make the inquiry, my good lord, you are called upon to -consider; for I make that inquiry of you." - -"Then I refuse to answer it," replied Chartley. "If a gentleman have -rendered a lady service in any way, it is not his business to speak of -it. She may do so, if she thinks proper but his part is different." - -"Then, my lord," replied Fulmer, "if you give me not account in one -way, you must in another;" and he set his teeth hard, as if to keep -down the more violent words which were ready to spring to his lips. - -Chartley laughed. - -"On my life," he said, "this is the strangest sort of gratitude which -it has been my lot to meet with in this wonderful world! Here is a man -comes to give me thanks, and then calls me to a rude account, because -I will not tell him why! What is the meaning of all this, my lord? -Your strange conduct certainly requires explanation--far more than any -part of mine, which has always been very open and simple." - -"Oh, if you think it requires explanation," exclaimed Lord Fulmer, -readily, "I am quite ready to yield it, after the fashion that I -hinted." - -"Is that a worthy answer, Lord Fulmer?" demanded Chartley. "You seem -determined to find cause of quarrel with me, and can meet with no more -reasonable pretext than that I once did some slight service to a lady -affianced to you." - -"Exactly so," replied Lord Fulmer, dryly. - -"Well, then," cried Chartley, tossing back his head, "I answer, I will -not quarrel with you on such ground. Charge me fairly--accuse me of -any wrong that I have done you, or any mortal man, or woman either, -and I will either clear myself or make reparation with my person at -the sword's point; but I will not bring a lady's name in question, by -quarrelling with any man on such a plea as this you bring. If you have -aught to say against me, say it boldly." - -"Have you not already brought her name in question, by passing one -whole night with her in the woods of Atherston?" demanded Fulmer, -sternly. "Have you not made it a matter of light talk with lighter -tongues--" - -"Stay, stay!" exclaimed Chartley, "I do not rightly understand you. Do -you mean to say that I ever have lightly used that lady's name--that I -have ever made it the subject of my conversation at all?" - -"No," answered Fulmer, gravely. "That I cannot say; but I aver that -you have given occasion for its being talked of by others, in -remaining with her one whole night, as I have said, in the woods of -Atherston." - -Chartley laughed again. - -"He would have had me leave her to her fate, in the midst of the -wood!" he exclaimed; "or else have had her fall into the hands of -Catesby's rude soldiery, or the ruffian mercenaries of Sir John -Godscroft, who were, even at the moment I met her, daintily engaged in -burning down the buildings on the abbey green! By St. Peter, the man -seems to have a rare notion of courtesy towards a lady! Let me tell -you, Lord Fulmer, that had I left her, she must have encountered those -who would have treated her somewhat more roughly than I did. Stay, -stay, a moment. I have not yet done. You say that I have given -occasion for people to talk lightly of her. Give me the name of one -who has dared, even by a word, to couple her name to mine in aught -that is not pure--ay, even in a jest--and I will make him eat his -words or send him to the devil a day before his time." - -Fulmer gazed down upon the ground in moody silence. "There may be -words," he said at length, "which, separate from the tone and manner, -imply but little, but which, eked out with nods and smiles and -twinklings of the eye, would go far to blast the fairest reputation. -In a word, Lord Chartley, I will not have it said, that the woman I -make my wife has passed the whole night alone, in a wild wood, with -any living man." - -"Then do not make her your wife," answered Chartley. "That is easily -settled." - -"There is another way of settling it," replied Lord Fulmer, bitterly, -"by cutting the throat of him who has done so with her." - -"So, so, are you there?" answered Chartley, now made angry, in spite -of himself. - -"If such be the case, my lord, I will not baulk you. I might refuse -your appeal, as a prisoner in ward. I might refuse it, as having no -reasonable grounds; but I will not do so; and satisfaction you shall -have of the kind you demand; for no earthly man shall say I feared -him. But this, my good lord, is not without a condition. It shall be -fully and entirely known, how and why you have forced me to this--what -is the quarrel you have fixed upon me--and why I have consented. All -this shall be clearly stated and proclaimed, for my own character's -sake. This I have a right to demand." - -"But the lady's fair name!" exclaimed Fulmer, alarmed at the -condition. - -"Who is it that blackens it?" demanded Chartley, fiercely. "Not I, but -you, Lord Fulmer. I proclaim her pure, and good, and true, to you, to -me, and all men; and you, if any one, shall stand forth as her -calumniator, in forcing this unjust quarrel upon me. I cast the -responsibility upon you; and now I leave you." - -"Stay, sir, stay," exclaimed Fulmer, driven almost to fury. "You have -called me calumniator; and you shall answer for that word, or I will -brand you as a coward in every court of Europe." - -"Methinks you would get but few to believe you," replied Chartley, -proudly; "but let me tell you, if you dare venture to use that term to -me, before any competent witnesses, I will punish you on the spot as -you deserve. You think, my lord, by taking me here in private, to -gratify your malice while you conceal your own weakness, and to leave, -perhaps, the blame upon me; but you are mistaken, if you think you -have to do with a feeble-minded and passionate boy like yourself." - -Fulmer lost all command over himself; and drawing his sword at once, -though close before the castle windows, he exclaimed, "Draw! I will -bear no more." - -But Chartley was comparatively cool, while his adversary was blind -with passion; and, springing upon him with a bound, he put aside the -raised point with his hand, and wrenched the sword from his grasp, -receiving a slight wound in doing so. Then, holding his adversary in a -firm grasp, he cast the weapon from him over the castle wall. - -"For shame," he said, after a moment's pause, "for shame, Lord Fulmer -Go back, sir, to the castle; and, if you have those honourable -feelings, those somewhat fantastic and imaginative notions, which I -have heard attributed to you, think over your own conduct this -morning--ay, think over the doubts and suspicions, unjust, and base, -and false as they are, in which such conduct has arisen, and feel -shame for both. I am not apt to be a vain man; but when I scan my own -behaviour in the events which have given rise to all this rancour on -your part, and compare it with your conduct now, I feel there is an -immeasurable distance between us; and I regret, for that sweet lady's -sake, that she is bound by such ties to such a man." - -"You have the advantage, my lord, you have the advantage," repeated -Fulmer, doggedly. "The time may come when it will be on my part." - -"I think not," answered Chartley, with one of his light laughs; "for -we are told God defends the right, and I will never do you wrong." - -Thus saying, he turned upon his heel, descended the steps, and walked -back into the castle. - -Fulmer followed with a slow and sullen step, his eyes bent down upon -the ground, and his lips, from time to time, moving. He felt all that -had occurred the more bitterly, as he was conscious that it was his -own fault. He might feel angry with Chartley; his pride might be -bitterly mortified; he might have every inclination to cast the blame -upon others; but there was one fact he could not get over, one truth, -which, at the very first, carried self-censure home. He had violated -all his own resolutions; he had given way to passion, when he had -resolved to be calm and cool; and this conviction, perhaps, led him -some steps on the path of regret for his whole conduct. At all events, -passing through his ante-room without speaking to any of his servants, -he entered his own chamber, and cast himself down upon a seat, to -scrutinize the acts he had committed. - - - - -CHAPTER XXVII. - - -Let us return to the close of supper on the preceding night. The -abbess and her two fair nieces, with some other ladies who had been -congregated in the castle, retired, first, to a little hall, above -that where they had supped, and then, after a short conversation, -separated into various parties, and sought the chambers where they -were to take repose. Iola, Constance, and their aunt, retired to the -bed-room of the former, before they parted for the night, and sat and -talked for a few minutes in a calm tone. - -"My dear child, you look sad," said the abbess; "has any thing vexed -you?" - -"No, dear aunt, nothing more than usual," answered Iola, forcing a -laugh. "I suppose a man may be merry enough, when he knows he is to be -hanged at the end of a year; but the case alters when he finds himself -at the day before the hanging." - -"A hang dog simile, my child," said the abbess. "But fie, Iola, put -away such thoughts. Marriage is an honourable state, though it lacks -the sanctity of devotion; and I doubt not it is a very comfortable -condition, though, good lack, I have never tried it, and never shall -now;" and she laughed a little at the thought. "Well, well, methinks -you ought to be content," she continued; "for, certainly he is a very -fair and handsome young man." - -"Is he?" said Iola, in an indifferent tone. "I thought he was dark." - -"Well, his hair and eyes are dark," replied her aunt, "and his skin -somewhat brownish; but what I meant was, that he is good-looking and -manly. I do not think your fair men, with pink cheeks, handsome for my -part, though I take but little heed to men's beauty--why should I? -However, I say he is as handsome a young man for a husband as woman -would wish to choose." - -"I must have him for a husband whether I choose or not," answered -Iola; "so, handsome or ugly, it comes to the same." - -Constance thought for a moment, and then said, in a quiet tone, "I do -not think he is so handsome as Lord Chartley;" and she gave a quick -glance towards her cousin's face as she spoke. - -Iola's cheek was crimson in a moment, but she said nothing; and the -abbess exclaimed gaily, "Oh, this world, this world. I see it will -steal your heart away from us, Constance. No more vows and veils for -you now. Well, do as you like, my child. I have found a convent life a -very happy one--perhaps, because there was no choice, and I resolved -to make the best of it; and, if Iola would take her aunt's advice, she -would look upon marriage as much the same, and make the best of it -too." - -With this piece of exceeding good counsel, the worthy lady rose and -left her two fair companions; and, no sooner was she gone, than -Constance moved closer to her cousin, and, laying her hand upon -Iola's, looked tenderly into her face. - -"Give me your heart, Iola," she said. "You have withdrawn your -confidence from me, and your heart must have gone with it." - -Iola bent down her forehead on her cousin's shoulder, and wept without -reply. - -"Nay, dear cousin," continued Constance, "if not for my sake--if not -for old affection's sake, and for love, which, unlike the love of the -world, can never weary or wax old--for your own sake, give me your -confidence as in days of yore. Tell me your heart's feelings and your -mind's thoughts; for, be sure that there are few, if any, situations -in life, in which counsel cannot bring comfort." - -"I will, I will, Constance," said Iola, wiping away the tears. "These -foolish drops," she continued, "spring but from a momentary weakness, -my Constance. I have borne up and struggled hard till now. It is -kindness that shakes me." - -"But then tell me," said her cousin, "tell me whence they spring, -Iola. I see you are unhappy--miserable. I would fain help you, or, at -least, console you; but I know not how." - -"What would you have, dear Constance?" said Iola, mournfully. "You -must see it--I love him not--I can never love him; and yet in a few -days, I know not how soon, I must vow at the altar to love him for -ever. Is not that a hard fate, dear Constance?" - -"It might be worse," answered Constance. "How worse?" demanded Iola in -surprise. "If you loved another," said her cousin, slowly and -sorrowfully. - -Again the crimson glow spread over Iola's brow and cheek, followed by -a warm gush of tears; but Constance twined her arms round her saying: - -"I have your secret now, dear Iola. That is over. Let us speak freely -of all things. But first, for some comfort--though it be but a -reprieve. My uncle told me, just before supper, that the king's -consent to the celebration of the marriage has not been obtained; that -Richard begs him to delay, till he and the queen can be present. It -may be long first; for poor queen Ann, they declare, is gone mad upon -the death of the prince. It must be some months; for they cannot be -present at a marriage in mourning. But, what is very strange, my uncle -seemed well satisfied with the delay." - -Iola sat and gazed at her as she spoke, with a look of wonder, as if -the tidings were so unexpected and incredible, even to hope, that she -could hardly comprehend what she heard. The next instant, however, she -started up and clapped her hands with a look of childlike joy. - -"A reprieve!" she cried. "Oh, it is everything. It is everything. It -is comfort. It is life. It is hope!" and then, casting herself upon -her cousin's neck, she wept again, sobbing as if her heart would -break. - -Constance tried to calm her, but her words seemed not to reach Iola's -mind; for, when the tears had had their way, she sprang up, clasping -her hands again, and crying, with the same radiant look, "Months, did -you say? Oh, moments were a blessing--who can tell what months may -bring forth? They have sometimes swept away empires. Now, we shall -have time to think, and speak, and act. Before, I thought it was -useless to take counsel even with you, dear Constance; for what could -counsel avail, when the event was hurrying on with such terrible -rapidity. It seemed like one of those mountains of snow, which I have -heard of, falling in the Alps, where, though they be seen thundering -down, 'tis vain to fly, or move, or think; for their coming is too -rapid, their extent too wide; and all that remains is to call upon the -name of God and die." - -"Good Heaven, what an image!" exclaimed Constance; "and have you -really suffered all this, my poor Iola?--But now tell me what has -passed between you and Lord Chartley?" - -"Nothing," replied Iola; and, be it remarked that, at every word she -uttered, her spirits seemed to revive more and more, as if nothing but -the intolerable burden which had been cast upon them had been able to -keep them down, and that, as soon as it was removed, they sprang up -again fresher than ever. "Nothing at all, but what I have told you, -dear Constance. For the world, I would not have told you a falsehood." - -"Then, nothing has been said to make you think he loves you as you -love him!" asked Constance. - -Iola blushed a little, and looked down; but, there was an expression -of arch meaning about her smiling lips; and she replied:-- - -"Nothing has been said, it is true, dear Constance; but a good deal -has been looked. How the tone, how the eyes change the whole meaning -of cold words: I have not loved, unbeloved, I hope--I trust--I -believe. Men are deceivers, you will say, and in nought more deceitful -than their looks. Perhaps you will tell me too that Chartley, this -very night, was gay and joyful, that he laughed and talked with those -around him, not at all like a disappointed lover. But he was not -joyful at his heart, Constance. I watched and saw it all. I saw that -the laugh was forced, the merriment unreal. I marked the sudden fit of -thought, the gloomy look that chequered the smile, the head held high, -and the curling lip which scorned the words the tongue uttered." - -"Alas, that you should have watched so closely," answered Constance; -and, after a moment's thought, she added; "but, as we are to have -confidence in each other, dear Iola, I must feign nothing with you; -and I do believe that it is as you say. Nay, more. There is another, -who knows him better than I do, who thinks so too." - -"Who? Who?" demanded Iola, eagerly. - -"None other than good Sir William Arden," answered Constance; and she -went on to give her cousin a sketch of the conversation which had -taken place between herself and her companion at supper. - -"I saw you talking very busily," replied Iola, with a smile; "but in -truth, dear Constance, I almost fancied you and the good knight had -better subjects of conversation than the fate of Iola and Chartley. -Well, thank Heaven, we have got another in the plot, who can give us -good help too, in the hour of need, perhaps." - -"A plot!" said Constance, with a look of apprehension. "What plot do -you intend to form, Iola?" - -"Now she is frightened out of her wits!" cried Iola, laughing as -merrily as ever. "No plot, dearest cousin. I spoke in my wild way, and -gave it a wild name. Only this, Constance, be sure of, that if there -be a means of escape--and what may not this respite produce--I will -not give my hand to Lord Fulmer--no, even though a convent should be -my only refuge, though Heaven knows, thinking as I think, that would -be bad enough." - -"Thinking as you think--I do not understand what you mean, Iola," said -her cousin in some surprise. - -Iola thought gravely for a moment or two, before she spoke; but at -length she replied: - -"Perhaps I am not so devout as you are, Constance, and yet, in some -things more devout. There is another enigma for you; but I know a -convent would not suit me. You will say, I seemed happy enough in one; -but yet I have come to the belief that they are not truly holy or good -institutions. To take the vows I should have to take, were I to enter -one, to live according to all the rules and ordinances, to go through -all the ceremonies, and to make all the professions, I should be a -hypocrite, Constance. But to marry this Lord Fulmer, to vow that I -will love him when I love another, would make me worse than a -hypocrite." - -Constance gazed at her with a bewildered look; for, though her words -were not very plain, yet they created doubts. - -"I do not know what to think of your language, Iola," she answered. -"Holy men, fathers of the church, successors of the apostles, have -founded convents, and blessed them. Surely they cannot be evil -institutions with such a sanction." - -Iola laughed, seeming not inclined to grapple with the question; and -then, with a playful gesture of the hand, she asked abruptly-- - -"Would you like now, now as you sit here, to devote yourself for life -to one of them?" - -"That is not a fair question," answered Constance, with a blush and a -smile; "but now, let us think, Iola, of what must be your conduct -between these two men. To one you are bound by a contract, valid it -seems in the eye of the law, and from which you cannot escape, -although it was entered into when you had no power to assent or to -refuse. To the other you are linked by ties of affection, which are -even less easily broken, I do believe." - -"Most mathematically put, dear cousin," answered Iola, in her old gay -tone; "but yet I can hardly reply. I must seek advice of some one who -knows more of the world's ways than either you or I do." - -"My aunt?" suggested Constance. "She will say, there is but one thing -to be done--to yield, and make the best of it." - -"No, no. Not to her will I apply," said Iola. "Of the world's ways, -dear Constance, of its laws and rules, she knows but little--hardly -more than we do. She can deal with foresters and bailiffs, sell timber -or wheat, collect the abbey dues, regulate its expenses, rule her nuns -wisely, though not strictly, and make devotion cheerful, without -depriving it of reverence; but there is a wide, wide circle beyond all -this, of which she knows nothing--nor I either, but that it exists." - -"Then to whom can you apply?" asked Constance; and Iola, rising, laid -her hands upon her cousin's, with a grave smile. - -"I will apply to one who will advise me well," she said; "but here, -dearest Constance, I must--however unwillingly--hold back a part of my -confidence from you. Were it my own alone, you should have it all, -fully and at once; but there is another, whose confidence I must not -break. Rest satisfied with this, that, as far as Chartley and I are -concerned, every secret of my heart, every act that I perform, -propose, or think of, shall be told to you at once. You shall see into -my breast, as if it were your own." - -"But yet there will be one dark spot," said Constance, almost -reproachfully. - -"Not concerning myself," answered Iola. "I tell you I am going to seek -advice. What that advice is, you shall know. Where I ask it, who gives -it, you must not know. This shall be the only reserve." - -"And you will not act in anything without speaking to me?" asked -Constance anxiously. - -"Certainly not," replied Iola; "but, you must promise in return, -Constance, that my confidence will never be violated, that no notions -which you may have imbibed of duty or propriety, or anything else on -earth--no, not of religion itself--shall make you ever betray to man -or woman that which I shall tell you." - -Constance seemed to hesitate; and Iola added, firmly, but sadly-- - -"You must promise, Constance, or there can be no confidence. My heart -must hide itself from you, as from the rest of the world, unless I -know that its secrets are as safe with you as with myself. Will you -promise, without any reservation, remembering, that I shall look upon -no consideration of 'my own good,' as it is called, as an excuse for -your violating that engagement. I know you will keep your promise when -you have given it." - -"Assuredly I will," replied Constance; and, after a moment's thought, -she added; "and I will give the promise too, Iola. If I did not, you -could easily withhold your confidence from me; and I do think that it -will be better for you to have some one, of whose love you can have no -doubt, to consult with and rely on. Remember I do not know and cannot -divine who this secret adviser is, nor how he or she should have -followed you hither, to give you counsel on any sudden occasion. -Surely you would not rely upon your maid, in preference to your -cousin." - -Iola laughed gaily. - -"Nay, Heaven forbid," she cried, waving her hand. "Besides, what knows -she of the world? Poor Susan's utmost experience reaches but to know, -that Harry Smith, the abbey gardener's son, bought her pink ribbons at -Tamworth fair, and asked her to marry him at Shrovetide next. No, no, -dear Constance. All my confidence you shall have--that is to say, all -my own. I will only keep from you the confidence of others; and now -your promise is given, is it not--fully and without reservation?" - -"It is," answered Constance. "I know you have always hated that -doctrine of mental reservation, and called it unchristian and -uncandid. I do not like it, and will never act upon it, though very -good men say that it is sometimes needful." - -"Fie on them!" cried Iola, warmly. "Those who would teach that would -teach any other kind of falsehood. But now, my own dear cousin, now -for a petition. Will you help your Iola to seek this advice?" - -"How can I help you? What would you have me do?" asked Constance. - -"'Tis but to endure imprisonment for an hour," said Iola, "to stay here -and watch till I come back, and, if any one comes to the door, merely -to answer, 'You cannot come in!'" - -"That is easily accomplished," replied her cousin; "and I may as well -perform my devotions for the night here, as in my own chamber hard -by." - -"Quite as well," answered Iola, with a smile. "But now I must clear -the way;" and, opening the door into the ante-room, she said--"Here, -Susan. Have the guests left the hall?" - -"Oh yes, lady," replied the rosy country girl, who appeared in answer -to her summons. "They did not sit long to-night. They have all gone to -their chambers some time." - -"Well then, I shall not want you for an hour," said Iola; and she -added, with a laugh--"I know there is some one whom you want to talk -with. But be discreet, Susan; and you shall have a present on my -marriage, to furnish house with." - -The girl blushed, and simpered, and retired. - -"And now," said Iola, "I must cover over these gay robes;" and, -opening one of those large cupboards, which, from the use that they -were sometimes applied to, retained, for many years, and still do in -some parts of Europe, the name of armoury, she drew forth a white -serge gown and hood, which she threw over her other apparel. - -"But where are you going?" demanded Constance, in a tone of alarm. -"Surely not beyond the castle walls. Your wanderings round the abbey -used to frighten me sometimes, when the broad daylight shone upon you; -but now you make me fear still more." - -"Fear not, and ask no questions," answered Iola. "I shall not be -without protection in case of need." - -"Oh, Iola, Iola, think well of what you are doing!" exclaimed her -cousin, detaining her by the hand. - -"I have thought," answered the lady. "See how the moon shines; and, -hark, there is my summons." - -Constance looked out and listened; and, faint upon her ear, the closed -casement dulling the sound, came the same strain of music which Fulmer -had heard from a different part of the castle. Gently disengaging her -hand, Iola glided into the ante-room, and opened the door leading into -the passage. She returned the moment after, however, saying-- - -"There is some one moving. I must wait a little;" but, ere two minutes -more were over, she went out again, and closed the doors behind her. - -Constance remained where her cousin left her, listening with anxious -ears, for several moments, but Iola returned not; and, locking the -door, her cousin cast herself upon her knees, and prayed fervently. - - - - -CHAPTER XXVIII. - - -We must give a glance beyond the waters. "What waters?" The reader may -ask, "the waters of time?" - -No, alas, that we cannot do. Let the eager eye stretch as it will, -aided by whatever glass the ingenuity of man can devise, or his -presumption use, that wide horizon will never present any object -distinctly. A mirage may raise the images which lie beyond the scope -of natural vision; but, after all, it is a fading picture, where -everything is indistinct, uncertain, and confused. - -No, the waters that I speak of are those which flow between the white -cliffs of England and the shores of France; and I leap over no -particle of time; for the day and hour were the same as those of which -I have just been speaking; and it is to keep up the perfect -synchronism of my narrative that I am obliged to change the scene, and -travel all the way to France, carrying the unwilling reader with me. - -It was in a small room, lined with shadowy tapestry and ceiled with -black oak, carved in a strange and peculiar fashion--in the form of -pentagons, piled one upon the other, and each centred with a little -gilded star--that there was seated, towards the first hour of the -morning, an elderly man of dignified though quiet aspect, habited in -the robes of a bishop. Near the door stood two ecclesiastics, -with a boy of some fourteen years of age between them, apparently -equipped for a journey. - -"And you are sure you know every step of the way, my son?" said the -bishop, fixing his eyes upon the boy, and speaking in French. - -"As well as I know the steps to my mother's door, my lord," answered -the boy. - -The bishop mused, and motioned one of the ecclesiastics to come -nearer. The good man approached, and bent down his head, till his ear -was on a level with the prelate's lips; and then, in reply to a -whispered question, which the other seemed to ask him, he exclaimed-- - -"Oh, I will be his surety, my lord; for he ran between the armies, in -the times of the late troubles with Britanny, and never betrayed his -trust in a single instance." - -"Well then, take him away for the present," said the bishop; "and I -will write the letter at once; for there is no time to be lost, -Entreat him kindly, and feed him well before he goes. I will call when -I want him." - -The two priests and the boy retired; and, when left alone, the bishop -took some little time for thought. - -"So far all is safe," he said to himself. "Once more I am upon these -hospitable shores of France; and my escape is well nigh a miracle. I -trust no evil has befallen those who were, under God, my kind -preservers. That dear child, I trust she got safely back to the arms -of her good aunt, the abbess. 'Tis very strange, how often, by the -merest seeming accidents, a kindness shown to a fellow creature -returns to bless us after many years. Nor has man's gratitude any -great share in it; for how rarely do we find anything like gratitude, -especially amongst the high and noble. Often too, those whom we have -served have gone away from earth, and cannot show gratitude, if they -would; yet still the good deed rises up, in after years, to shelter -us, as a tree against a storm. Little did I think, when I entreated -for St. Leger's life, and not only won it against all odds, but -obtained that his estates should be not confiscated to the crown, but -transferred for life to his brother, with a provision reserved for -himself--little did I think that his sister would shelter me at the -peril of all worldly good, and his daughter would guide me to escape -in safety." - -"Now for another act," he continued, drawing a sheet of paper towards -him. "I pray God this may be for the benefit of my country. Gratitude, -in this instance, I want not, expect not, and shall not obtain. It is -not in his nature--well, if he turn not and rend me! It matters not; -it is right and shall be done. Better a cold and greedy prince upon -the throne, than a murdering usurper. This man must labour for a -people's good, for his own interest's sake; and then a marriage with -the heiress of York will cure all divisions, and heal the wounds of my -bleeding country." - -He still seemed to hesitate, however; for although he had drawn a -sheet of paper to him, and taken pen in hand, he did not write for -several minutes. - -"It must be done," he said at length; and, when he began, his letter -was soon finished. - -"There," he said, when it was completed. "Now he can act as he sees -meet. If he be wise, and occasion serves, he will say no word to this -weak duke of Britanny, even should he be in one of his lucid moments, -but will fly at once to France, where, thanks to my efforts, all is -prepared to give him friendly reception. If revenge get the -mastery--and he has no small share of it in his nature--he will -endeavour to strike at Peter Landais, and be given bound into the -hands of Richard. Then farewell to England. Stay, I will add a few -words more of caution and advice; for I must needs enclose the -despatch obtained by my good friend, the woodman, to let him see the -extent and nature of his danger." - -The postscript to his letter was soon written, the paper, which the -woodman had given him, enclosed, the letter tied with the silk, and -sealed; and the boy was then recalled and charged with the packet. -Manifold were the directions given him, as to how he was to conceal -the dangerous despatch; and the youth, who seemed quick and active, -retired furnished with a packet of ordinary letters, addressed to the -Marquis Dorset, and several other English noblemen then living in -exile at the court of Britanny. - -His weight was light, the horse prepared for him strong and active; -and, mounting in the court-yard, he set out upon his way, passing -through the heart of Normandy in perfect security. Séez, Alençon were -reached; and, shortly after, the peril of the enterprise began; but he -knew all the roads well, and, after sleeping at a small village on the -confines of Normandy, he rose some hours before daylight, and made his -way through narrow lanes into the duchy of Britanny, under cover of -the darkness. - -It is rare that a journey is performed with so little difficulty, even -when there are much fewer dangers; but the messenger met with no -impediment till he reached the town of Rennes, where his horse was -detained for several hours, on the pretence that so fine an animal -could not fairly belong to a youth of his appearance. But the letters -he produced, addressed to the Marquis Dorset, accounted for his -possession of the animal; and, though there was not wanting -inclination on the part of Landais' officers to seize it, for their -own or their master's use, they did not venture to do so; for it was a -part of the treacherous minister's policy to lull the English exiles -into security by seeming kindness, till he could deliver them into the -hands of Richard. - -The letters, however, were strictly examined, and, when returned to -the boy, had evidently been opened; but the secret despatches, -concealed in the large wooden boot which he wore, passed undiscovered. -The contents of the letters, which had been read, only served to -convince Landais that his meditated treachery was unknown to the -friends of the exiles in England. - -Hastening on with all speed from Rennes to Vannes, the boy nearly -accomplished the distance of more than twenty leagues in one day; but -he arrived at night, and was forced to remain till morning at a small -inn in the suburb, on the right bank of the river Marle. He there -gathered intelligence, however, of some importance. A strong body of -archers, he learned, had entered Vannes the day before, and the earl -of Richmond, with many of his chief friends and followers, had sought -hospitality at the fine old abbey of St. Gildas, situated on a little -peninsula in the neighbourhood. Thither then, on the following -morning, he took his way; but he did not arrive in the court of the -abbey till the earl and his companions were just mounting their horses -to set out upon some early expedition. The boy's shrewd eyes instantly -detected, amongst those present, several who were not Englishmen; and, -with the keen good sense for which he had been selected for that -mission, he determined at once upon his course. The earl of Richmond -he had never seen; but, perceiving that to one particular person there -present, a spare but somewhat forbidding-looking man, all the others -paid much reverence, he walked up to him with a letter in his hand, -and asked if he were the Marquis Dorset. - -"No," answered Richmond, who had his foot in the stirrup, to mount. -"Yonder he stands. Is that letter for him?" - -"Yes, my lord," replied the boy; "but I have several others from -England." - -"Have you any for me, the earl of Richmond?" asked the other; and, -dropping his voice to a low tone, the boy replied: - -"I have a word for the earl of Richmond's private ear." - -"Deliver your letters, and then come back to me," said Richmond, in -the same low tone; and then he added, aloud, "Here is a little courier -from England, my lords and gentlemen, with letters from home, for most -of you, but none for me. Take them and read them. We can well afford -to put off our ride for half an hour. In the mean time, I will -question the boy as to the news of our native land--Here, Bernard, -hold my horse. Boy, give them their letters, and then come with me." - -"Why, this has been opened," cried the marquis of Dorset, looking at -the epistle which he received from the boy's hands. - -"I know it has, noble sir," answered the boy aloud. "All my letters -were taken from me at Rennes, and, when they were returned, I could -see they had been read." - -"Out, young cur," cried one of the Landais' officers, who was present. -"Say you the people of the duke of Britanny would open your letters? -Doubtless you opened them yourself." - -"Not so, noble sir," answered the lad; "for, alas, I cannot read." - -"Well, well, come with me," said Richmond, seeing that the nobles -crowding round him had taken the packet, which the boy had held in his -hand, and were distributing them amongst themselves, according to the -superscription. "This way, lad--permit the boy to pass, reverend -father;" and entering the abbey by a small door, at which appeared an -old monk, he walked onward, followed closely by the boy, till he -reached his bed-chamber. - -"Now, what have you to say to me?" he exclaimed eagerly. - -But the boy, before he answered, closed the door behind him, and -pushed the bolt. - -"I have a packet for you, noble lord," replied the boy; "but I was -ordered to deliver it to your own hand in private, and I have kept it -concealed from all eyes, here in my boot." - -"Then the people at Rennes did not find it?" asked Richmond, sharply. - -"No one has ever seen it, from the moment I received it," answered the -boy. "That I will swear to; for I have slept in my boots; and, when I -took them off for ease, I kept them always in my sight." - -The boots of an unarmed courier or post of that day were of a kind, I -believe, now utterly banished from use, but which might still be seen -in France, amongst postilions, at the end of the last war. They -consisted of an inner covering of leather, with large and -rudely-shaped pieces of light wood, fastened round them with straps of -leather, to guard the leg against any blow or accident. Out of these -cumbrous appendages, the boy had withdrawn his feet while he was -speaking; and now, unbuckling the wooden cases from the leather, he -opened a little sliding lid in one of the former, and drew forth the -packet which Morton had entrusted to him. Richmond took it eagerly; -but, with his usual cool observing spirit, before he opened it, he -looked carefully at the silk and the seal, to ascertain that it had -not been examined previously. Satisfied on that point, he cut the -fastening, broke the seal, and read the contents. His countenance, -though the boy's eye fixed upon it while he read, gave no indication -of what was passing in his mind. It was cold, quiet, resolute. When he -had done, he thought in silence for a moment or two; and then looking -at the lad, he said-- - -"Thou hast performed thy task well. There is gold for thee. Were I -richer it should be more. Now tell me how it came that they chose one -so young to carry tidings of some import?" - -"Because I knew every inch of the country well," replied the boy; -"because I had carried many letters between the armies in the time of -the war, and because my mother, and father Julien, said that I was -honest." - -"Good reasons," said Richmond; "knowledge, experience, honesty. I -think you deserved your character. Do you know the country between -this and Tours well?" - -"Every part of it," replied the boy. - -"And between this and Angers?" asked Richmond again. - -"As well as the other," answered the boy. - -"Well, then," said Richmond, "open the door and call one of my valets. -I retain you in my service, if you are free." - -"Oh yes, my lord, I am free and willing," replied the boy; for there -was that in the manner of the future king of England which, though dry -and cold, and somewhat stern, inspired respect; and the boy's -character was peculiar too. The man who knows how to command will -always find those who are willing to obey; and the attachments -inspired by the strong-minded and the stern are often more rapid, -generally more permanent, than the affection excited by the weak and -gentle. - -The boy's nature was brief and laconic; and, as soon as he had made -his answer, he went out into the passage, and sought one of the -attendants of the earl, with whom he returned to his presence. - -"Take care of that boy," said Richmond, to the man, "and bring him to -me as soon as I return. Treat him well, and let him have whatever he -wants; for he has rendered me service." - -"Thus saying, he walked out into the court again, assuming a moody and -somewhat discontented air. The reading of his letters and his -conversation with the boy had not occupied five minutes; and some of -the English gentlemen were still studying the epistles they had -received in the court." - -"You have been very brief, my lord," said the Marquis Dorset, -thrusting his letter into his pocket. "What news did the boy give you? -I have little or none." - -"I have none at all," answered Richmond. "The boy only came from -Rouen, I find. The English messenger stopped there. So I must wait for -another long tedious fortnight before I get intelligence. I am glad to -hear from Rennes, however, my Lord of Morlaix," he added, addressing -one of the Breton gentlemen, who had been placed with him more as a -guard than an attendant, "that your noble duke is perfectly recovered, -and gone towards Maine for better air, to give him strength again." - -"Indeed, my lord. I had not heard it," answered the gentleman he -addressed. - -"It is true, notwithstanding," answered Richmond. "Come, gentlemen, -let us mount;" and, springing on his horse, he rode forth, followed by -his whole train. - -As he went, he continued to talk of the duke of Britanny's recovery, -in a public and open manner, addressing some of his observations to -the Bretons who accompanied him. - -"I fear," he said at length, "that his highness may think me somewhat -remiss if I do not go to compliment him on his recovery." - -He remarked a slight frown come upon the face of Morlaix, as he spoke; -and that gentleman ventured to say-- - -"Perhaps, my lord the earl, it might be better to send a messenger -first, giving some intimation of your purpose; for his highness, if -you recollect--" - -"I know what you would say," replied Richmond, as he paused and -hesitated. "His highness assigned me my residence at Vannes; and I am -well aware that observance of a prince's wishes is of more importance -than any mere point of ceremony. You, Dorset, are in the same case; -but, in this instance, happily we can do both; remain at the spot -assigned us, and yet show our gladness at our princely friend's -recovery. We will send every man, not tied down to this spot as we -are, to offer our sincere congratulations, and to show that we do not -come ourselves solely front respect for his commands." - -"That, my lord, is indeed obviating all difficulties," said Morlaix, -with a smile; "and doubtless," he added hypocritically, "you will soon -receive an invitation to the court, to receive the honours due to your -station." - -Richmond's face expressed no satisfaction at this answer; and, turning -to the rest of the English exiles, he merely said-- - -"Well, gentlemen, we will not ride far or fast to-day, as you will -need your horses for a longer journey to-morrow. I will write a letter -of compliment to his highness, which you shall deliver for me, and -explain that I only regret I could not be my own messenger. Monsieur -de Morlaix, if you will do me the honour of breaking your fast with -me, at an early hour to-morrow, we will see these gentlemen depart." - -The other bowed with all due reverence, and, with much satisfaction, -seeing that the arrest of the earl of Richmond, and his delivery into -the hands of Richard's emissaries, which he knew was meditated by -Landais, would be much more easily effected, during the absence of so -large a body of the earl's friends and followers, than it could be -while they so closely surrounded his person. It was necessary however -for the Breton to obtain distinct directions as to how he should act; -and, as soon as he returned to the abbey of St. Gildas, he despatched -letters to Landais, informing him of the proposed movements of -Richmond's friends, and requiring orders for his guidance. - -While he was thus occupied, the young messenger from the bishop of Ely -was again brought into the earl's presence, and the door closed and -bolted. Richmond eyed him for a moment attentively, and then said-- - -"What do you know, lad, of the contents of the packet you brought me?" - -"Nothing, my lord," replied the boy. - -"What do you guess?" demanded Richmond, who seemed to comprehend and -be comprehended at once. - -"That your lordship is in peril from something," replied the other. - -"Why do you guess that?" asked Richmond. - -"Because I was told to be secret and swift," answered the boy, "to -destroy the packet if there was danger of its being taken, and to find -means of telling you, if I should be prevented from delivering it, to -be upon your guard against enemies. Moreover, I heard last night that -three hundred archers had marched into Vannes in the morning." - -"Ha!" said the earl. "I heard not of that. They are rapid, it would -seem. Now, young man, are you willing to serve me well?" - -"Right willing," replied the boy. - -"Can you guide me, by the shortest and most secret ways, hence to the -town of Angers?" demanded Richmond. - -"None better," said the boy. - -"Well then, you shall do it," said Richmond; "but be silent and -secret. Utter no word of what I say to you, even to those who seem my -dearest friends. I have an expedition to make to Angers, to take -counsel with persons much in my interest there; but none must know of -my going. That is all. Stay, a word or two more," he continued, -thoughtfully. "It were as well that none should remark your staying -here, or know that we hold private conference together. It may seem as -if the news you brought from Rouen was of sufficient import to justify -suspicion. I will send you into Vannes. Stay there at the suburb at -the Golden Dolphin, and mind you chatter not." - -"I chatter little, my lord," said the boy. - -"I trust so and believe it, my good lad," replied Richmond; "but it -sometimes happens that youths like you, when speaking to persons of -superior station, are silent and discreet enough, and yet find a noisy -and loquacious tongue when with their fellows. But I will not doubt -you. You must have been proved, ere Morton trusted you. Only remember, -that if you are not now discreet, you may lose a good master, who will -make your fortune should you prove worthy." - -"I will not lose him," said the boy. - -"To-morrow night I will speak with you more," said Richmond; "do you -know a place near Vannes called Carnac?" - -"What, where the great stones lie?" asked the lad. "Many a time I have -played amongst those stones, when I was eight years old." - -"Then meet me there with your horse, just at the hour of sunset, -to-morrow evening," the earl replied. "Set off upon the road to -Rennes. Turn round by the great fish-ponds, and wait between the first -and second line of stones till I arrive--though I may tarry a little, -still wait." - -"I will, my lord," replied the boy, and left the earl's presence. - -He kept his word to the letter; for, though he laughed, and jested, -and talked with the people of the little cabaret where he put up, the -name of the earl of Richmond never escaped his lips. He talked of the -long journey he had had, and of how tired his horse was, and -complained a little that the Marquis Dorset had not paid him for his -services. - -"Doubtless you are well paid before," said the landlord of the inn, to -whom he spoke. "You seem a sharp boy, and not one to go without -payment." - -The lad laughed, and said nothing, confirming the man's suspicions, -that he had desired somewhat more than his due. Upon the pretence of -his horse needing repose, he continued to linger where he was during -the whole of that day and great part of the next, always talking of -going back to Rouen, till, at length, when evening approached, he paid -his score and departed. The landlord remarked, as he went away, "Ay, -there goes a young truant, who will be scolded roundly, I will -warrant, for lingering so long, and yet will not want an excuse for -his tardiness." - -Slowly jogging on his way, the boy rode even somewhat farther than -Richmond had directed him. But, to say the truth, he knew the country -better than the earl himself; and he knew also the habits of the -place, which brought to the point at which Richmond had told him to -turn off, a considerable number of the country people, going into -Vannes, at that hour, to hear the evening service, at the church of -St. Paterne. Passing completely round the large tank or fish-pond -there, he approached the great Druidical temple of Carnac--the most -remarkable, perhaps, in the world--just as the sun was setting; and, -dismounting from his horse, he stood and gazed forth at the bright -sky, with interest very different from that which he might have felt -had he known where he stood. The boy was ignorant indeed of all the -historical associations connected with the place. He had never heard -of Druids, or Celts, nor of any other religion but the Roman Catholic; -but yet there was a curious sort of solemn grandeur in that scene, -with the thousands and thousands of tall stones, most of them then -standing upright in their five curious ranges, with the rosy coloured -light of the evening sky pouring in amongst them, which produced a -sensation almost akin to awe in his young though not very imaginative -heart. - -"This is a strange place," he thought. "I wonder what it means? These -stones must have been put here by somebody. Perhaps they intended to -build a church here long long ago. But why should they spread them out -so far and set them all on end. It can't have been for a church -either. But they are all dead and gone, that's clear, and the stones -remain;" and his mind being then led on from point to point, by some -process within himself, he said, "I wonder what will become of me. It -is very droll, one can never tell what is to happen to oneself -afterwards. That earl said he would make my fortune. What will that -fortune be, I wonder?" - -The sun gradually sank, and all was darkness; but shortly after a pale -gleam, coming upon some clouds to the eastward, showed that some other -light was coming; and the moon soared up in time, and shed her light -over the same scene. The boy looked round him somewhat timidly. He -began almost to fancy that ghosts of the dead might haunt those solemn -places. All remained still and quiet, however, till at length he heard -the sound of horses' feet, and ventured to look out. The riders were -not near enough for him to see anything, however; for the night was so -still that he heard them afar. At length they came nearer and nearer; -and, taking his stand at his horse's side, he gazed along the line of -stones till four horsemen rode in and approached him. - -"Mount and come on," said the voice of Richmond; and the boy sprang -into the saddle at once. The earl had not stopped to speak the words, -and, ere the lad was mounted, he had ridden on some hundred yards, as -it seems in a wrong direction, for he speedily heard a low voice, -saying, "To the right, my lord. It is safer and shorter." - -"But this is the road to La Roche Bernard," replied Richmond, turning, -and eyeing him by the moonlight. - -"But you must not go by La Roche," replied the lad, "but by Redon and -Nozay. We will cross the Villaine near Redon. Then there is nothing to -stop you till you get to Nozay, neither towns nor castles, but sandy -tracks through the bushes. There is the castle of Furette, indeed; but -it was burnt in the last war, and there is no one in it." - -"Play me not false," said Richmond, in a threatening tone, but turning -his rein at the same time in the direction the boy pointed out. "Ride -here," he continued, "between me and this good lord. Now tell me, how -far is it to Angers by this road?" - -"Some twenty-six leagues, my lord," replied the lad, "and by the other -more than thirty." - -"You are right there," said the Marquis Dorset. - -"And what will one find on the other side of Nozay?" asked the earl. - -"Nothing to stop you, sir," said the boy; "between it and Angers there -is the little village of Conde, where you can bait your horses; and -there is a good road thence to Angers, with nothing but hamlets or -scattered farm-houses, till you reach the town. No one would be able -to take you from Redon to Nozay but myself--at least, nobody at -Vannes; but from Nozay to Angers you could go by yourself if you -liked." - -"You seem to know it well," said Richmond. - -"I was born at Nozay," replied the boy. - -There the conversation stopped; and they rode on in silence for some -time, going at a very quick pace, till at length the Earl said, - -"We must spare our horses a little, or they will hardly bear us out. -Twenty-six leagues; think you we can do it in one day, boy?" - -"Oh, yes, my lord," replied the boy, "if your beasts be strong and -willing. The night is fresh, and the ground soft; and we can afford to -stop and feed the horses at Nozay, for, if any one comes after us, a -thousand to one they will take the other road." - -"That is one recommendation to yours at all events," said Dorset, -laughing; "and the ground is soft enough indeed, for it seems to me as -if we were entering a morass." - -"So we are," answered the boy, coolly. "We had better ride one by one. -Then if I make a mistake, I shall be the first to pay for it." - -Thus saying, he rode on boldly and rapidly, till, at the end of about -half a league, the swampy ground ceased, and the country began to rise -a little. Ascending by gradual slopes the road which they now -followed, and which was clearly enough defined by its sandy colour, -gained a considerable elevation above the sea; and Richmond was just -in the act of observing that they must have got at least eight miles -from Vannes, when they heard the distant report of a cannon boom upon -the air, and Dorset exclaimed: - -"What may that mean?" - -"That they have found out you are gone," said the boy, laughing. - -"Did it seem to come from Vannes?" demanded Richmond. - -"To a certainty," answered the boy. "The wind sets this way; but it is -our own fault if they catch us now." - -No other indication of pursuit reached their ears as they pursued -their way, till at length the boy, pointing forward with his hand, -said: - -"There is Redon. You can either go through the town or by the ford. -The ford is shortest." - -"And safest too, in all probability," replied Richmond. - -"I think they could hear that gun," said the boy, "if they could but -make out what it meant." - -"Then take the ford, by all means," said Richmond; and, pursuing a -narrow path to the left, which ran some way up the river, the lad led -them to the bank of the stream, and passed safely through, though the -water rose to the horse's girths. The rest followed; and, turning over -the shoulder of the hill, at the end of a few miles, they entered a -wild and desolate track, where woods and bushes seemed scattered over -a wide extent of shifting sand, amidst which all vestige of a road -seemed lost. Straight on went the boy, however, without pause or -hesitation, appearing to be guided, in finding his way back to his -native place, by the same sort of instinct which is possessed by dogs -and some kinds of pigeons. - -All seemed so dark--for the moon had by this time gone down--so wild, -so trackless, that Richmond at length exclaimed, with anxious -sternness: - -"Are you sure you are right, boy?" - -"Quite sure," replied the boy; and on he went, leading the way through -one wide patch of bushes, round the angle of a little wood, down a -little dell, across a rivulet, up a slope, into another track wilder -than before, as if not a tree had been cut down or a bush grubbed up -since last he was there. - -"There comes morning," he said at length. "We shall reach Nosey just -at break of day." - -"And right glad will my horse be to get there," said Dorset; "for he -is well nigh knocked up. He has been stumbling at every step for the -last hour." - -"Food will set him up," said the boy, "and that he can soon have. -There is Bohalard and its windmill, to the right, peeping through the -dusk, like a great giant with his arms stretched out to catch us." - -The sight of the windmill, and the boy's instant recognition of it, -relieved Richmond a good deal; for he had not been able to divest his -mind of some doubts as to his young guide's accuracy; for the country -had been so wild and trackless, that it seemed impossible to him for -any one accurately to remember every step of the way, and one mistake -must have been irretrievable in the darkness. A few minutes more set -him at rest completely; for as the air grew lighter every moment, he -perceived at no great distance in advance a tower upon an elevated -spot, and a little beyond that again, but lower down, the spire of a -church. - -"What is that tower, boy?" he asked, as they rode on. - -"It is called Beauvais, my lord," replied the lad; "and that is the -church of Nozay." - -"Then let us slacken our pace a little," said Richmond, and, according -to the boy's prediction, they rode into the small town just as the sun -was rising. - -"Here, stop here," said the boy, drawing in his horse's rein before a -house, which seemed somewhat like an inn of the second or third class; -"this is not the best cabaret, but the landlord is the honestest man;" -and, by thundering with his fists at the large gate, he soon brought -forth some of the inmates from their beds. - -"Ah, petit!" cried the landlord, who was amongst the first; "is that -you again, Pierre la Brousse? and so you have brought me some guests." - -"Who must have food for themselves and horses, in a minute, father," -replied the boy, "for they want to be in Angers before mass." - -"They'll hardly manage that," said the landlord, looking at the -horses; "however we must do what we can. Come in, come in. Jacques -tend the horses. Come, in, Pierre." - -"No, I must up to the top of the church," said the boy, "to see who -comes after; for Maître Landais is no friend of mine, and, if his -people catch me, I shall taste hemp. So keep my horse saddled while he -feeds. The gentlemen can do as they like, for they can find their way -now; but I'll be away as soon as I see any one coming over the -_landes_." - -This was said aloud, and Richmond answered-- - -"No, no. We will go with thee, lad." - -"Stay, stay; my son shall go up the steeple," cried the landlord; "he -is quick enough in all conscience, and his eyes are good. You stay and -feed, Pierre." - -Such was then the arrangement. The son of the landlord was sent up to -the top of the church to watch, while the whole party of travellers -halted at the little inn, to rest, feed their horses, and partake of -what coarse refreshment the place afforded. The horse of the Marquis -of Dorset, however, would not feed; but, by the mediation of Pierre la -Brousse, that nobleman procured another very fair animal to carry him -on, and the furniture of that which he had been riding was transferred -to the back of the fresh steed. The other four horses took their -provender willingly enough; and, having seen this most necessary point -settled, Richmond and his companions entered the house, and soon had -some eggs, meat, and wine set before them. They had time to make a -tolerable meal, but no more; for, just as they had finished, the -landlord's son came running in to say, that he saw a party of horsemen -coming over the _landes_, at the distance of about three miles. - -"How many are they?" demanded Richmond, in a calm tone. - -"A good number, sir," replied the young man, "but I did not stay to -count them." - -"How can they have tracked us?" cried the boy. - -"They had something running before them which looked like a dog," said -the landlord's son. "It was too far to see exactly what it was; but it -might be a blood-hound." - -"My dog for an hundred angels!" said Richmond, in a low tone; "we must -to horse at once. Were they coming quick?" - -"No, slow enough," answered the young man, following the strangers to -the courtyard. - -"Thank Heaven, their horses must be as tired as ours," said Dorset; -and, paying the reckoning, the party of fugitives mounted in haste to -depart. - -"There is a gold crown for thee, young man," said Richmond to the -landlord's son, before they set out; "and if thou and thy father can -contrive to delay those who come after for one hour, I promise, on the -word of an English nobleman, you shall have ten such sent to you by -some means. If I reach Angers in safety, you may come and claim the -reward. Now, on gentlemen, as fast as whip and spur will carry us." - -On they went then; and, for fully twenty miles more, their horses bore -them up well; but evident symptoms of failing strength began to -manifest themselves about nine o'clock, and before ten it became -clearly necessary to seek some fresh beasts. The houses were now, -however, beginning to appear more frequently; the boy Pierre knew -every place where a horse was likely to be obtained; and the four -which were wanted were at last procured, some being found at one -place, and some at another. It was none too soon, however; for while -yet at the distance of some three miles from Angers, a large -stag-hound with a silver collar bounded up to the side of the earl of -Richmond, and almost sprang upon his horse. - -"Ah, my poor Taker," said Richmond. "Thou hast unwittingly betrayed -me, I fear.--Look back, look back," he added to his followers; "they -must be near at hand now." - -Nothing was to be seen, however; for the dog had outrun the pursuers; -and, for a mile farther, they did not come in sight. Then, however, -they were seen coming over a hill not very far off; and, from that -spot, the journey became in fact a race. Those who followed had -evidently hired fresh horses likewise; or rather, armed with the -authority at the duke of Britanny, they had taken them wherever they -found them; and they gained perceptibly upon the fugitives. Now they -were lost sight of in a hollow, as the road rose up and down; now they -came in sight again, and each time nearer than before. At length, -however, a glimpse of the winding Mayenne was obtained, and then -towers and steeples were seen over the trees. - -"Angers, Angers!" cried the boy, with renewed hope. - -On they dashed; and, when they reached the gates of the city, the -horsemen of the duke of Britanny were not three hundred yards behind -them. - -There, however, both parties reined in their horses; and Richmond -presented his letters of safe conduct to the guard at the gates. The -pursuers did not venture to follow any farther, for they were already -within the pale of France; and, wearied in frame, but relieved in -mind, the earl rode on into the town. - -As, now in security, Richmond cast off his clothes at the inn, and -prepared to take some repose, his mind rested upon the events of the -eight and forty hours just past; and his last thought, ere his eyes -closed in sleep, was--"It is strange that I should owe my escape from -imprisonment--ay, and from death, to a woodman in a distant part of -England." He might have said, "and that England should owe him a -king;" but all the coming time was dim to the eyes of the earl; and he -only added--"I vow to the blessed Virgin Mary, if ever I should sit -upon the throne of England, as some men think likely, I will find out -that man and reward him." - - - - -CHAPTER XXIX. - - -There was a hand laid upon the latch of the door; for doors, even in -great houses, had latches to them, dear reader, in that age of simple -contrivances; and Constance asked, "Who is there?" - -"Open, Constance, open," said the voice of Iola; and her cousin gave -her instant admission, holding out her arms to her, and pressing her -to her heart, as if she had thought that the companion of her youth -was lost to her for ever. - -"Have you been disturbed, Constance?" asked her cousin, kissing her -cheek. - -"Only by your girl, Susan, about a quarter of an hour ago," replied -Constance. "I bade her come again in half an hour, and tell my maiden -not to sit up for me." - -"I have been long, dear cousin," said Iola, "and kept you waiting; but -I could not help it; for there was much to say." - -"And you have been far," said Constance, gazing at her with inquiring -looks; "for your gown is wet with dew--and torn moreover!" - -"And my feet too with the brambles," answered Iola, sitting down, and -uncovering her fair delicate feet and ancles. "My path has been almost -as rough and thorny as that of the world, Constance. See how they have -scratched me." - -"But what did he say? What advice have you obtained?" demanded -Constance, looking with no very serious commiseration at the scratches -which streaked the pure white skin of her cousin. - -"You don't pity me," said Iola, laughing. "You are a cruel girl." - -"If the wounds of the world are not more serious than these, you will -not deserve much pity," answered Constance. "I am anxious about graver -things, Iola; but you are so light." - -"Well, well, I will tell you," answered Iola. "Let me but put on these -slippers, and get a little breath; for my heart has been beating -somewhat more than needful. What counsel has he given, do you ask? How -do you know that it was a man at all?--Well, I will own. It was a man, -but an old one, Constance; and now I will tell you what he said. He -said that a marriage contracted between infants was not lawful. That -it was a corrupt custom which could not be justified, for that a -reasonable consent was needful to make a marriage valid, consequently, -that I am not bound at all by acts to which I gave no consent--the -acts of others, not my own. He says moreover that religion itself -forbids me to promise what I cannot perform." - -Constance gazed at her with wonder and surprise. The view thus -suddenly presented to her was so strange, so new, so contrary to the -received notions and opinions of the time, that, at first, all seemed -mist and darkness to her. - -"This is extraordinary indeed!" she exclaimed. "This is extraordinary -indeed! Who can it be, Iola, who thus ventures to set at defiance not -merely the opinions of the world at large, but that of lawyers and -fathers of the church, who have always held such contracts binding?" - -"He says that it is not so," answered Iola. "He gave me many instances -in which such contracts, especially between princes and high nobles, -have been set at nought, where the church has treated them as things -of no value, and lawyers have passed them over with little reverence. -But I could tell you more extraordinary things than this, Constance. -Men are beginning in this world to look with keen and searching eyes -into these received opinions which you talk of, and to ask if they are -founded on justice and right, or on ignorance, superstition, and -craft. Light is streaming in upon darkness; and there is a day rising, -of which I see the dawn, though I may never see the noon." - -"I can understand nothing of all this," said Constance. "Dearest Iola, -I think your wits must have been shaken by all you have undergone. You -speak so wildly and so strangely." - -"Nay, nay," said Iola. "I am as calm as you are; and these ideas which -I give you, under the promise you have made, never to reveal one word -that I tell you, I have long held and shall ever continue to hold." - -"I have never had any hint of them before. I have never seen any sign -of them," replied Constance; "and yet we have been like sisters from -our infancy." - -"During the last year, Constance," asked Iola, in a grave and solemn -tone, "have you ever seen me kneel down to worship picture of saint, -or of virgin, relic, statue, or crucifix?" - -Constance put her hand upon her forehead, and gazed at her cousin with -a look of bewildered dismay. "I do not know that I have," she said, -after a moment's thought; "but I have seen you tell your beads. I have -known you confess and receive absolution." - -"I have told my beads, Constance," said her cousin; "and at every bead -I have said a prayer; but it has been to God the Father, through -Christ the Saviour, and I have ever prayed for direction in the right. -I have confessed, because there can be no harm in confessing my sins -to the ear of a priest as well as to the ear of God; and, if he has -pretended to absolve me from sins which God alone can absolve, it is -his fault and not mine. I have thought myself little benefitted -thereby." - -Constance started up, exclaiming, "I will go and pray for you, Iola. I -will go and pray for you!" - -"Stay yet a while, dear cousin; and then gladly will I ask your -prayers," said Iola; "but let them, dear Constance, be addressed to -God alone, and not to saints or martyrs. You will ask why. I will show -you in a moment. God has himself forbidden it. Look here;" and she -drew a small closely written book from her bosom. "This, Constance, is -the word of God," she continued, "the book from which priests, and -bishops, and popes, pretend to derive their religion. Look what are -its injunctions here." - -Timidly and stealthily, as if she were committing an act of very -doubtful propriety, Constance looked over her cousin's shoulder to the -page which Iola held open in the book, and read on with eager and -attentive eyes. - -"Does it say so?" she asked at length. "Does it say so? What can this -mean, Iola? Why should they so deceive us?" - -"That I cannot tell," answered Iola; "for no good purpose, doubtless; -but that matters little. It is sufficient for me to know that they do -deceive us; and, in a matter that concerns my soul's salvation, I will -not be deceived. We spoke just before I went, Constance, of mental -reservation. You own--you know, that it is neither more nor less than -deceit. It is promising without performing, clothing a lie in the garb -of truth. What does not follow from such duplicity! Will not they who -cheat us, and make a profession of cheating, in one thing, cheat us in -many?--Will they not cheat us in all? Often have I thought, before I -saw this book, that it was strange man should have the power to -forgive sins. We are told that our sins are against God and against -man. If against man, the only one who has power to forgive them is the -man whom we have offended; if against God, then God only has the -power. But all sins are against God, for they are all a violation of -his law, and therefore he only can remit them perfectly." - -"But he may depute the power to his priests," said Constance. - -"What, the Almighty, all-seeing God, depute his power to blind -impotent mortals!" exclaimed Iola. "What, depute his power of -pardoning me to a drunken, luxurious, sinful priest! You may say that -such a man has not the power, and that absolution from him is of no -avail. But if you do, dear cousin, you are a heretic; for we are told -that it is of avail. But what must be their idea of the great Searcher -of all hearts, who believe that he has need of such instruments, -chooses them, or uses them. Such is not the picture of Him given in -this book. Here, God is God; the Saviour, man and God; the Holy -Spirit, the comforter and guide of man from God. There is no other -intercessor between man and God but the one, who is man and God, no -other guide but the Spirit, proceeding from both Father and Saviour, -no other atonement but the death of Christ, no other sacrifice but -his." - -"I am bewildered," said Constance, bending her head down to her hands -and covering her eyes in thought. The next moment, however, she looked -up, asking, "Then why do the clergy forbid us to read this book, if it -teaches so to know God?" - -"Because it is that which condemns them," answered Iola; "they profess -that the religion they teach is founded upon this book, and in this -book I find the frequent command of God, to search the scriptures. The -priests say, I must not search them. Then, either they are not from -God, because they contradict him; or the book is not from God, because -it contradicts them. Now in this book I find innumerable proofs that -it is from God; and they themselves declare it to be so. They are -self-condemned to any one who opens it; and therefore have they sealed -it, lest men should read and know them for what they are." - -"And yet," said Constance, "who was so eager as you to save the good -bishop of Ely--who rejoiced so much at his escape?" - -"I say not that there are no good men amongst them, dear Constance," -replied her cousin; "for I believe that there are many; but all human -beings have their weaknesses. I believe doctor Morton to be a good -man; but of course he teaches nothing but the doctrines of the church -to which he belongs--he dare teach nothing else; for who would venture -to incur, not only the loss of every worldly good, but death itself--a -burning and a terrible death--when perhaps he thinks he can do as much -good, by following the ways of those who went before him, as by any -other path?" - -"But truth is beautiful," said Constance; "and would a good man teach -falsehood, when the very book of his religion shows him that it is -so?" - -"Did he ever read that book? Did he ever study it?" asked Iola. "Did -he ever examine its pages closely, seeking no gloss or comment of -those who would pervert it, but merely asking the aid of the Holy -Spirit? Many a man is unwilling to examine too closely, when all his -earthly happiness depends upon his shutting his eyes. Many a man is -too timid to stand by his own judgment, however right, when there are -a multitude of decisions, however corrupt, against him." - -"But perhaps," said Constance, "the book may be so obscure and -difficult, that it cannot be understood without an interpretation." - -"It is clear and simple as the unclouded sky," replied Iola; "as easy -as the words which we address to babes. It was given to, and -transmitted by, unlettered fishermen. It made all clear that was dark, -and removed every cloud and every shadow. This book contains but one -mystery, instead of the thousands which they teach us; and that -mystery is explained, so that we cannot but believe even while we do -not comprehend." - -"But what does it teach, then?" asked Constance. - -"It teaches that we are to worship God alone," answered Iola. "It -teaches that to bow down before any creature, statue, or image, is to -offend the Creator, and is idolatry against God. It teaches that there -is no mediator, no intercessor but one, Christ, and that the office of -saints and martyrs is to praise God, not to intercede for mortals. It -teaches that the only atonement, the only sacrifice needful to expiate -the sins of the whole world, was that of Christ; that it was complete, -full, and sufficient, and that to look to any other for pardon, is to -rob God of his glory. It teaches that man can be pardoned by God -alone, and will be pardoned through faith in Christ. It teaches, -moreover, that, if any man keeps the whole law of God, even to the -smallest point, he has done no more than he is bound to do, and -therefore that his good works have no power to save him from the -original curse--how much loss to help or to save any other. It teaches -too, dear cousin, that repentance is needful to every one--the deep, -heartfelt, sincere repentance of the spirit; but that, to seek, by -inflicting pains upon our body, to atone for the evils we have -committed, is to rest upon a broken reed, to presume upon our own -strength, and to deny the efficacy of God's mercy in Christ." - -Constance listened with deep attention, till her cousin had done. - -"I would fain read that book," she said, in a hesitating tone; "but -the priests have always forbidden it." - -"God says, 'read it!'" said Iola. "Who shall set up the words of man -against the words of God?" - -"Will you lend it to me, then?" asked Constance, timidly. - -"Oh, joyfully," answered Iola; "but it must be upon one condition, -dear Constance. I have bound you, by a promise, never to repeat -anything I say to you. I must now have another promise, never to let -any eye but your own see this little volume. When you read it, lock -the door. When you have done, hide it where no one can find it. I need -give you no motive, dear Constance," she added, throwing her arm round -her neck, and gazing affectionately into her eyes; "but yet let me -remind you, that my life is at stake, that the least imprudence, the -least indiscretion would give me over to a death by fire; for they -hold those who worship God as God himself has taught to be heretics. -We are not called upon either to be teachers or martyrs. We may be -permitted to hold on our own way, without offending others, so long as -we worship not things of stick and stone; but, should it be discovered -what my real thoughts are, that moment I should be dragged before -those who would force me to declare them. I would never renounce my -opinions or deny my belief; and the only fate before me would be -death." - -"God forbid!" said Constance earnestly. "God forbid I will be very -careful, Iola--more careful than if my own life was at stake." - -"I know you will, sweet sister," replied Iola, putting the book into -her hands. "Read it, Constance, read it and judge for yourself. Try to -cast from your mind everything you have heard on religion not -contained in this book; and, if you do that, this book will as -certainly lead you right as there is truth in Heaven." - -Constance took it, and retired to her own chamber, where she sat down -for a few moments' thought. Her first meditation, however, was not of -the book, but of Iola. - -Was this the same creature, she thought, whom she had known from -infancy--sweet, gay, playful Iola? Was this she whose heart she used -to think the lightest in the world, whose deepest meditations seemed -to break off in a sportive jest? At first it seemed strange, almost -impossible. But yet, when she called memory to her aid, and -recollected many of the circumstances of the past, especially during -the last two years, she saw that it might well be. She felt that her -own graver and somewhat slower spirit might not reach those depths of -thought into which Iola's seemed to plunge with bold and fearless -courage. She remembered many a gay speech, many a half-reply which had -appeared all sportiveness, but which, when examined and pondered, -proved to be full of mind and matter. - -"Yes," she said, at length. "I have loved her, but not esteemed her -enough. I have known her well, but not the depths. She is all that I -thought her; but she is more. Yet it was not she deceived me, but -myself. She hid nothing; but my eye was too dim to penetrate even the -light veil with which her happy nature covered her strong mind. It is -strange, what an awe I feel in looking at this little volume!" and she -gazed at it, as it lay upon her knee. "It must be that I have so often -heard that we ought not to read it, that I have yielded my judgment to -mere assertions. Yet I have heard the very men who bade me forbear -call it the word of God. I will read it. That word must be a comfort -and blessing. But I will pray first;" and kneeling down she began, -"Oh, blessed Saint Clare--" - -But then she suddenly stopped, and meditated for a moment, still -kneeling. She seemed puzzled how to frame her appeal. At length, -however, she bowed her head upon her hands, and repeated in English -the Lord's prayer. She added nothing more, but, rising from her knees, -unclasped the book, drew the lamp nearer, and began to read. - -The clock struck four, and found her reading still. - - - - -CHAPTER XXX. - - -One by one, the guests assembled in the hall of Chidlow castle, for -the first meal of the day which, as the reader well knows, was in -those days a very substantial affair. People in high station usually -dined, as it was called, at a very early hour; for, in all the -mutations of fashion, nothing has changed more than the dinner hour in -Europe. The labouring classes indeed, of all countries, consulting -health and convenience alone, have varied very little. It was then -about the hour of ten, when two or three of the guests appeared in the -hall. Then came the lord of the castle himself, with his sister, the -abbess, on his arm. Sir William Arden and two or three other guests -followed; then Lord Fulmer and some others, then Chartley, then Sir -Edward Hungerford. - -A great change had come over Lord Fulmer's aspect. He was calm, though -very grave, courteous and attentive to all, though somewhat absent in -his manner, and falling into frequent fits of thought. Even to -Chartley, whose demeanour was perfectly unchanged, he showed himself -polite, though cold, conversed with him once or twice across the -table, and by no allusion whatsoever approaching the subject of their -rencounter in the morning. The meal passed off cheerfully, with most -of those present; and, after it was over, the party in general -separated to prepare for the sports and occupations of the day. - -"Now, gentlemen," said Lord Calverly; "all who are disciples of St. -Hubert, prepare your horses; for, though the month of May is not come, -I am determined we will force a buck before the day is over. My good -sister, here, notwithstanding holy vows and pious meditations, loves -well to see a falcon fly or a dog run; and she will accompany us on -her mule. Take care that she does not outride us all; for the best -barb in my stables, except at the full gallop, will hardly outrun that -mule of hers." - -These words were followed by much hurrying away from the room; and, in -the moment of confusion, Lord Fulmer lightly touched Chartley's arm, -saying in a low tone-- - -"My lord, before we set out, I have a word or two for your private -ear, if I may crave audience." - -"Assuredly!" replied Chartley. "You can take it, my lord, when you -think fit." - -"Then I will join you in your apartments, as soon as I am booted," -answered Fulmer. - -In somewhat less than five minutes, after Chartley had reached his own -chamber, he was joined by Fulmer prepared for the chase. As usual, -where men have a resolute inclination to cut each others' throats, all -sorts of ceremonious courtesy took place between them; and, after -Fulmer was seated, he leaned across the table, saying: - -"I have come, my Lord Chartley, to speak to you both of the past and -the future. As for the past, I have had time to think, not only of -what occurred between us this morning, but of my own conduct towards -you; and I do not scruple to avow that I feel I have been wrong." - -"Then, think of it no more, my good lord," replied Chartley, holding -out his hand to him frankly; but Lord Fulmer did not take it. - -"I have not yet done," he said. "I have owned that I was wrong, that I -behaved uncourteously and rashly, both last night and to-day, under -the influence of strongly moved passion, which has now passed away. I -apologize for it, and pray you to accept my excuse. So much for the -past; and now for the future, my lord. I trust I shall not forget -myself again; but thus are we circumstanced. You have become -acquainted with a lady contracted to me; you have had an opportunity -of rendering her service; and I have no doubt did so in the kindest -and most courteous manner. I mean not to say that you have done aught -that is wrong, or that, knowing she was pledged to be my wife, you -have striven to win her from me; but unwittingly, perhaps, you have -learned to love her yourself, and deprived me of a share of her -affections. Deny it not; for it is evident." - -He paused for an instant, as if the words he spoke were very bitter to -himself; and Chartley remained perfectly silent, with his eyes fixed -upon a spot on the table, as if waiting to hear what this commencement -would lead to. - -"Now, my lord," continued Fulmer, with a sigh, "to my mind, two men -cannot love one woman and both live. Such is the case with you and me. -I grant that you have as much right to love her as I have. I am -willing to look upon it as if we were merely two rivals for the same -hand; but still I say, there is but one way of terminating that -rivalry; for her faith is already plighted to me, and therefore the -question cannot and must not be submitted to her decision." - -"I understand your meaning, my good lord," said Chartley, seeing that -he paused, "and think that your view is wrong--" - -"Hear me out," said Fulmer, interrupting him. "I have yet a few words -more to say. My views can never be changed. They are based upon my own -nature. I cannot live, Lord Chartley, in doubt or jealousy. I cannot -live unloved by her I love. I cast myself upon your generosity then, -to yield me compensation for an injury, even unintentional, in such a -manner as will in no degree compromise the fair name of her who is to -be my wife or yours." - -"Upon my life, my noble lord," replied Chartley, in his usual frank -tone, "I do not think the right way for me to win her would be to cut -your throat, nor for you to cut mine." - -"Perhaps not," replied Lord Fulmer; "but so it must be; for it is the -only way open to us." - -"I think not," answered Chartley. "If I understand right, the Lady -Iola is formally and fully contracted to you. I will not deny, -Lord Fulmer, that this was painful news to me; but, I knew it was an -ill without remedy; and I never even dreamed, from that moment, of -seeking to win one thought of the lady, from her promised--her -affianced husband. So help me, Heaven, I would never have seen her -again willingly. I am not here of my own will, my lord. I am a -prisoner, and would willingly remove myself to any other abode, to -cause no pain or disquiet here. I do not believe, I never have -believed, that there is any occasion for such disquiet. The Lady Iola -may have won my regard; but I have no reason to suppose that I, in the -slightest degree, have won hers. No words of affection have ever -passed between us; no suit has been made on my part, no acknowledgment -on hers. As you have taken a more frank and courteous tone than you -assumed this morning, I will not now scruple to say how we first met, -and explain to you all that can be explained, without dangerously -affecting another. You doubtless know that I am here under the king's -displeasure, for aiding my good and reverend friend, the bishop of -Ely, to escape from the perils which menaced him. He travelled -disguised in my train, till we arrived at the abbey of St. Clare of -Atherston, where he had appointed a servant to meet him with -intelligence of importance. I sat next the Lady Iola at supper, but -parted with her there, and left the good bishop in the strangers' -lodging. Having cause to suspect that some one had left my train--a -servant of Sir Charles Weinants--for the purpose of giving intimation -of the bishop's place of refuge to those who might apprehend him, I -turned my horse in the forest, bidding my comrades ride on. Various -events detained me in the forest during the whole night." - -"But how came she in the forest too?" demanded Fulmer, gravely; for -the frankness of Chartley's manner had produced some effect. - -"I must pause one moment to consider," replied Chartley, "whether I -can answer that question without a breach of faith to others.--Yes, I -can. The Lady Iola it was who guided the bishop from the abbey, when -it was surrounded and attacked by the king's soldiery; and, in so -doing, her return was cut off." - -"But how came that task to fall upon her?" again demanded Fulmer. - -"That, my good lord, I can hardly tell you," answered Chartley; "for, -to say the truth, and the mere truth, I do not rightly know. There is -some secret communication between the abbey and the wood. Stay, I -remember; I have heard the bishop say, that many years ago, he saved -the life of the last Lord Calverly, petitioning for his pardon, and -obtaining it, when he was taken in one of the battles of those times. -This is most probably why the task was assigned to the lady, and why -she undertook it." - -Fulmer mused gloomily. - -"Perhaps so," he said at length; "but yet, my lord, methinks some -warmer words than mere courtesy must have been used, to induce the -stay of so young and inexperienced a lady, alone in the forest, for a -whole night, with a gay nobleman such as yourself." - -"Warmer _things_, if your lordship likes," cried Chartley, -indignantly; "for, by the Lord that lives, the thing that kept her -there was seeing the houses burning on the abbey green. That was warm -enough. For shame, Lord Fulmer! Have you consorted with people who -teach men to think there is no virtue in woman, no honour in man? But -let me do the lady justice. She was not alone with me. My Arab servant -was with us all the time--followed us close--sat with us in the old -castle hall; and I do not think ten sentences were spoken which he did -not hear. But, my good lord, since such is your humour, I will not -baulk you. I have borne this long enough. Be it as you say. Wait but a -few days, to let your conduct of last night pass from men's minds, and -I will afford you cause of quarrel to your heart's content, in which -this lady's name shall bear no share. Then we will void our -differences in the eye of all the world, as soon as I am no longer a -prisoner in ward. There is my hand on it." - -Fulmer took it and grasped it tight, with a feeling of rancorous -satisfaction, which he could hardly conceal. - -"Then for the present we are friends, my good lord," he said; "and I -will take care that nothing in my manner shall betray our secret, -while waiting your good pleasure." - -"As you will," answered Chartley. "Put on what seeming you may like. I -wear no vizard. But hark, there are the horses in the court-yard; and -here comes Sir William Arden, just in time to go with us." - -"In order to do what?" asked Sir William Arden, looking from the one -to the other, with an inquiring glance. - -"To hunt," replied Chartley. "Are you not going?" - -"Oh yes," answered the knight. "Though 'tis somewhat early in the -year. Yet I suppose my good Lord Calverly's bucks are always fat, so -let us to horse." - -Descending the stairs of the tower, they speedily reached the -court-yard, and found all prepared for their expedition. The abbess -was already on her mule, Sir Edward Hungerford in the saddle, looking -down the length of his leg and thigh, in evident admiration of his own -fair proportions, Lord Calverly by the side of his horse, and huntsmen -and grooms, a goodly train. - -Iola and Constance stood together to witness the departure of the -party, having declined to join the hunt; and Sir William Arden paused -for a moment or two, by the side of the latter, while the rest mounted -their horses. - -The morning was fine, the scent lay well upon the dewy ground; a fat -solitary buck had been marked down in a covert, about two miles off; -and he was soon found, and the dogs put upon his steps. He took -straight across the chase, towards some other woods, at the distance -of four or five miles; and it was a beautiful sight to see the noble -beast darting along across the open country, with the dogs in full cry -behind him, and the troop of gay lords and ladies following. Chartley -gave way to all the spirit of the hunter, and galloped on, sometimes -talking to Lord Calverly, or Sir William Arden, and sometimes to Lord -Fulmer. To the latter his manner was courteous and easy; nor did the -slightest embarrassment appear in it, although he caught the eyes of -his elder friend fixed upon him, with a suspicious expression, -whenever any conversation took place between him and his rival. When -the buck was slain, however, and the morning's sport over, Sir William -Arden took the first opportunity of riding up to his young friend's -side, and saying, in a low tone, "I hope, my lord, you are not going -to play the fool." - -"Not more than usual, Arden," replied Chartley. "Have I shown by any -signs that the disease is aggravated?" - -"Not that I perceive," answered Sir William Arden; "but, just as I was -coming away, that dear little girl said something to me, I could not -very well understand, about quarrels between you and that young lord -there." - -"Oh no," replied Chartley. "I will not quarrel with him; quarrels we -have had none since an early hour this morning. A few civil words only -have passed since; and of them more anon. But who comes here, spurring -so sharp to meet us? He seems to have a tabard on." - -"Nay, how should I know?" demanded Sir William Arden, almost sharply; -"if it be a herald, I trust he does not come to defy Lord Calverly in -the king's name." - -Almost as he spoke, a splendidly dressed pursuivant rode up, and -demanded aloud which was the Lord Fulmer. - -"I am he!" replied the young nobleman, spurring forward his horse. -"What want you with me, Master Pursuivant?" - -"Merely to bear you his majesty's commands," said the pursuivant, "to -join him at York, where he now lies, without any delay. Not finding -your lordship at the castle, I rode on to seek you, as the king's -commands were urgent; and I must return with you." - -Lord Fulmer's countenance fell. "Am I to understand then that I go as -a prisoner?" he demanded. - -"Not in the least, my lord," answered the officer. "I believe it is in -order to consult you upon some affairs, that the king sent for your -lordship; but he ordered me strictly to find you out, wherever you -might be, and to return in your lordship's train to York." - -"Well then, for York, if it needs must be so," said Lord Fulmer, with -an expression of much discontent upon his face. "I could have wished -the command had come at some other time. Perhaps, I had better ride on -before," he continued, turning to Lord Calverly, "in order to prepare -my people for this unexpected journey." - -"Perhaps so, my dear lord," replied the old peer. "We should always in -this world take time and fortune by the forelock, otherwise we shall -never catch them, if they get on in front. I know the king intends to -honour you to the utmost," he added, in a low tone; "so away at once, -and show your zeal and promptness. There is nothing pleases a king so -much as to see diligence in obeying his commands." - -"I would fain speak with you for some moments before I go, my noble -lord," said Fulmer in the same low voice; but the old nobleman made a -sign of impatience, saying aloud, "No time for that, no time for that. -You will be back in a day or two at the farthest." - -"Then I must write," answered the young man, in a whisper; but, -raising his tone, he added, "Farewell, all gentlemen and ladies who -are likely to be gone before my return. My Lord Chartley, I will not -bid you adieu, as doubtless I shall find you here for some days to -come." - -"By my faith, I fear so," answered Chartley, laughing. "His grace the -king, when he has got his grasp upon a man's neck, is not famous for -slackening it, as long as there is any head above; but I wait his good -pleasure in all humility, trusting that you will bring me good -tidings, and use your best eloquence to work my liberation." - -"I will, upon my honour," answered Fulmer, earnestly; and then, -turning his horse, he rode away. - - - - -CHAPTER XXXI. - - -There is nothing which should teach man virtue, if not religion, more -than the study of history; not by showing that the result of evil -action is punishment to the ill-doer, for such is frequently not the -case, in this world at least, unless we take into account the moral -suffering which the consciousness of wickedness must produce: but by -showing in the strongest possible light the vanity of human wishes, -the futility of human efforts, when directed in any other course than -that which leads to imperishable happiness hereafter. We often see the -man who lies, and cheats, and grinds the poor, and deceives the -unwary, and wrongs the confiding, obtain the pitiful yellow dust which -has caused so much misery on earth. We see the grander knave who -plots, and fights, and overcomes, and triumphs, who desolates fertile -lands, and sheds the blood of thousands, obtain power, that phantom -which has led statesmen, priests, and kings, through oceans of fraud, -falsehood, and gore. We see them all passing away like a vain shadow, -snatched from the midst of trickery or strife, of disappointment or -success, of prosperity or adversity, before the cup of joy is tasted, -before effort has been crowned by fruition. A few lines of history, a -brief record of censure or panegyric; then the page is turned, and all -is over. The mighty and the good things last; and the spirits of those -who wrought them are gone on high. - -Richard walked in the gallery of the castle at York, his arms crossed -upon his chest, his eyes bent down upon the ground, his brain busy, -rejoining the broken threads of policy; as great a man perhaps as a -bad man can ever be. He was mighty as a soldier, mighty as a -politician, almost sublime in the vast wide-stretching reach of his -subtlety. Through life he had played a game almost against all odds; -and he had won every stake. He had seen those who stood between him -and the light swept away; he had contrived to remove obstacle after -obstacle; he had crushed or aided to crush all the enemies of his -house; he had imposed the silence of death, or the chains of exile, -upon all personal opponents; and he had often succeeded in the still -more perilous strife with the passions and the feelings of his own -heart; for, because he was ambitious, and all things gave place to -ambition, we have no right to conclude that his heart was without -feelings even of a gentle and a kindly nature. Ambition was the idol, -and to it the heart sacrificed its children. - -As he thus walked, a man in a black robe, with a velvet cap upon his -head, which he doffed as soon as he saw the king, entered the gallery. -His step roused Richard from his reverie; and, looking up, he -exclaimed: - -"Ha! How is the queen?" - -"No better, I grieve to say, your grace," replied the physician. - -"And when no better--worse," replied Richard, thoughtfully, "because a -day nearer the grave. These days, these days, they are but the fevered -pulses of the great malady, which, in the end, slays us all.--No -better?--What is her complaint?" - -"'Tis a pining wasting sickness, sire," replied the physician, -"proceeding from the spirits more than the blood. It has consumed her -ever since the death of the prince was announced to her so rashly, -which may have occasioned a curdling of the juices, and rendered them -no longer fit to support life. I grieve to say, the case is one of -serious danger, if her grace cannot be persuaded to take more -nourishment, and to cast off this black melancholy." - -"How long may it last?" asked Richard, gravely. - -"Not very long," replied the physician; "I trust art may do something -to correct and alleviate; but cure nothing can, unless the lady use -her own powers to overcome this despondency and gloom." - -"Well!" said Richard; and, at the same time, he bowed his head as an -indication that the physician might depart. - -"It is strange," he thought, as soon as he was alone again. "Not long -since, I should have heard such tidings with a sigh. Ann is dying, -that is clear. How beautiful I remember her--how sweetly beautiful! -Yet weak, very weak. The white and red roses might have adorned her -cheek; but she should not have entwined them in her marriage bed. I -loved her--yes, I loved her well--I love her still, though her -weakness frets me. Yet England must have heirs. The crown must not -become a football at my death, to be kicked from John de la Pole to -Harry of Richmond. At my death! When will that be, I wonder? Ay, who -can say? There hangs the cloud. No eye can penetrate it. Turn which -way we will, fate's thick dark curtain is around us, and no hand can -raise it up; but we must go on till we touch it. 'Tis well, perchance. -Yet did one but know when that hour of death is to come, how many -things might we not do, how many things might we leave undone. -Laborious plans, vast enterprises, schemes that require long long -years to perfect, might all be laid aside, and our energies fixed upon -the period that is ours. We work in the dark, and half our work is -vain. Well, well, time will show; and our labours must not be -imperfect, because we know not the result. Yes, with this ever-ready -fate yawning before me, nought must be delayed. Ann is dying, that is -clear. Had it not been so, perhaps it might have been necessary to put -her from me. Rome is an indulgent mother; and the sacrifice of a few -dozen lollards, together with some small share of gold, would have -found favour for a divorce. But she is dying, and that at least is -spared. My brother's daughter must be her successor. I will move at -Rome for the dispensation at once. And the lady too? But no fear of -her. She is ready and coming enough. She will have children surely, or -she will belie her father and mother. Heaven, what a progeny of them, -while I had but one son! Who goes there without?" - -"'Tis I, sire," replied Sir Richard Ratcliffe; appearing at the door. - -"Ah, Ratcliffe, come hither," said the king. "The queen is very ill, -Ratcliffe--dying, her physicians tell me." - -"Your Grace must bear Heaven's will patiently," replied the courtier. - -"I will so," answered Richard; "but we must foresee events, Ratcliffe. -The queen is dying. Men will say that I poisoned her; think you not -so, Ratcliffe?" - -"It matters little what men say, sire," answered the other, "since we -well know that half they say is false." - -"More than half," answered Richard. "Let a man look devout, and do -some seemly acts of charity, till he has made a name for the trumpet -of the multitude, and he may be luxurious, treacherous, false, -avaricious, if he pleases, he shall still have a multitude to speak -his praises to the sky. But let another, for some great object, do a -doubtful deed, though justified perhaps by the end in view, the whole -world will be upon his track, baying like hounds till they have run -him down. Every accident that favours him, every event, the mere fruit -of chance, that he takes advantage of, will be attributed to design -and to his act. No man will die, whom he could wish removed, but what -mankind will say, he poisoned him; no enemy will fall by the sword of -justice, but it will be a murder; no truth will be told favouring him, -but a falsehood will be found in it, and his best acts and highest -purposes will be made mean by the mean multitude. Well, it matters -not. We must keep on our course. While I hold the truncheon I will -rule; and these turbulent nobles shall find that, slander me as they -will, they have a master still. Oh, if Heaven but grant me life, I -will so break their power, and sap their influence, that the common -drudges of the cities, the traders who toil and moil after their dirty -lucre, shall stamp upon the coronets of peers, and leave them but the -name of the power which they have so long misused. But I must secure -my house upon the throne. The queen is dying, Ratcliffe--I must have -heirs, man, heirs." - -Ratcliffe smiled meaningly, but replied not; for to mistake his -purposes, while seeming to divine them, was somewhat dangerous with -Richard. - -The king remained in thought for a moment or two, and then enquired, -in an altered tone-- - -"Who is in the castle?" - -Ratcliffe looked at him in some surprise; for his question was not as -definite as usual, and Richard went on to say-- - -"I heard that the princess Mary, of Scotland, had arrived last night. -I sent too for Lord Fulmer. I will not have that marriage go forward -till I am sure; and, if they dare to disobey me, let them beware." - -"He is not yet arrived, sire," answered Ratcliffe; "but there has been -hardly time. The princess, however, came last night. She went first to -London by sea, it seems, and has since followed your grace hither. She -has just returned to her apartments from visiting the queen." - -"Ha! Has she been there?" said Richard. "That had been better not; but -I will go and see her. Let some one go forward to say I wait upon her -highness. We must have this marriage concluded speedily, betwixt the -Duke of Rothsay and my niece Anne. Then, Harry of Richmond, thou hast -lost a hand; and a Scotch hand is hard, as we have found sometimes. -Go, good Ratcliffe, go to her yourself." - -Ratcliffe immediately retired; and, after meditating for a few minutes -longer, Richard followed him. He found two servants waiting at the -door of the room to which he directed his steps, together with his -attached though somewhat unscrupulous friend and counsellor, -Ratcliffe, who had delivered his message and retired from the presence -of the princess. The door was immediately thrown open, one of the -servants saying, in a loud voice, "The king;" and Richard entered with -a calm, quiet, graceful step, as unlike the man which the perverted -statements of his enemies have taught us to imagine him as possible. - -Seated at the farther end of the room, with two or three young women -standing round her, was a lady apparently of some six or seven and -thirty years of age--perhaps older, but she seemed no more--whose -beauty could hardly be said to have been touched by the hand of time. -The expression of her face was mild and melancholy; but yet there was -something high and commanding in it too. Her dress was very plain, -without ornament of any kind; and the colour was sombre, though not -exactly that of mourning. She rose when the king entered, and took a -step forward in front of her attendants, while Richard hastened on at -a quicker pace, and taking her hand courteously, pressed his lips upon -it; after which he led her back to her chair. The ladies around -hurried to bring forward a seat for the king of England; but he -remained standing by the side of the princess, for a moment or two, -inquiring after her health and her journey. She answered briefly, but -with courtesy, saying, that she had preferred to travel by sea, rather -than cross the border, on both sides of which were turbulent and -lawless men. - -"I have come, my lord the king," she continued, "with full powers to -negociate and conclude the terms of the treaty already proposed -between your grace and my beloved brother, for the marriage of my -nephew and your niece. You may think it strange that he should choose -a woman for an ambassador; but, as you know, I begged the office; and -as you kindly seconded my views, by the hint contained in your letter, -he was content to trust me." - -"I could do no less than give the hint, as knight and gentleman, when -I knew your wishes," replied Richard; "but, to say truth, dear lady, I -almost feared to yield to them. It is nothing new to see princesses -ruling states and guiding negociations; and, from all my own -experience, I should say, that strong must be the head and resolute -the heart which can resist their eloquence, their beauty, and their -gentleness. I always therefore fear to meet a lady as a diplomatist; -but I could not refuse when you laid on me your commands." - -"Yet I fear," said Mary, "that those commands, as you term them, were -somehow made known to my brother or his ministers; for I find that -several messengers were sent to England before I departed myself; and, -the day before I set out, an old servant of mine, John Radnor, whom I -always fancied faithful, and whom your grace knew right well, left me, -with letters or messages, I am told, for England, which were kept -secret from me, and I have never seen him more." - -"Nor have I," said Richard, gravely; "but when we are alone we will -talk farther." - -"These are faithful friends," said the princess, looking round to the -young ladies who were with her; but, marking a slight smile which -curled Richard's lip, she added: "If your grace has matters of -secrecy, they shall go. Leave us, girls." - -The king and the princess remained perfectly silent till the room was -cleared; but then Richard said: - -"We, in high stations, dear lady, never know who are really faithful -friends, till we have tried them long and in many ways. You said but -now, that you fancied this John Radnor was your faithful servant. Now -this surprises me not," he added, in a tone of gallantry, not -unmingled with sarcasm, "for I always looked upon him as mine; and he, -who is my faithful servant, must be yours." - -The princess gazed at him for a moment with a look of surprise; but -she then bent her eyes down, saying, "I think I understand your -highness. Was he a spy?" - -"Nay, that is a harsh term," answered Richard. "He was not exactly a -spy. Peasants and franklins, when there is a great man in the -neighbourhood, will bring him presents or offerings of no great worth, -on the sweet certainty of receiving something in return more valuable -than that they bring. Thus did John Radnor with intelligence. When he -learned aught that was likely to be well paid, he brought it to him -who was likely to pay him best. But let us speak of him no more; for -his tale-telling mouth is closed in the dull earth. He was killed by -accident, on that very journey of which you speak; but his letters -were brought on by some posts of mine, who followed close behind him. -All the packets that you have sent me, within the last year, have -reached me safely, I believe--those which Radnor brought, delicately -fingered indeed, and those which came by other hands, either intact, -or resealed with greater skill. I have executed your commands to the -letter, however, without attending to the recommendations of others, -which sometimes accompanied them. But I grieve to say I have had no -success. Many are the inquiries I have made; but not a vestige, not a -trace is to be found." - -The princess cast down her eyes, and crushed a bright tear drop -between their jetty fringes. "Nevertheless," she answered, after a -moment's silence, "I will pursue the search myself, though not -doubting either your grace's kindness or your diligence. It is hardly -possible that his companions in arms should not mark the place where -so distinguished a man lies, even by a stone." - -"He was indeed," said Richard, "the flower of courtesy and the pride -of knighthood. I remember the good earl well, just before he went to -Denmark, to bring home your brother's bride; and seldom have I seen -one so worthy to live in long remembrance, or to be mourned by the -widowed heart with such enduring grief as your noble husband, the earl -of Arran. Did I know where he lies, I myself would erect a monument to -his memory, although he took part with the enemies of my house." - -While he had been pronouncing this panegyric upon her dead husband, -the eyes of the princess, countess of Arran, had overflowed with -tears; but she answered when he ceased, saying-- - -"That were indeed generous; and I beseech you show to me equal -generosity in assisting me to pursue my search." - -"To the utmost of my power will I aid you," replied Richard, "although -I am sure it must be in vain. Let me, however, ask what leads you to -believe that he still lives?" - -"Nay, I believe not," replied the princess. "It is something less than -belief--a doubt, a clinging hope. Perchance, had I seen his dead -corpse, I might have felt somewhat of the same. I might have fancied -that there was warmth about the heart, and tried to bring back life -into its seat, though life was quite extinct. Such is woman's love, my -lord. But you may ask what has nourished even this faint hope, when -twelve long years have passed, and when I received authentic news of -his death in the last skirmish of the war. That man, John Radnor, -swore that he saw him dead upon the field. The others who were with -him, in some sort, corroborated the same story; but they were not -quite so sure. My brother, all his court, affected to believe that it -was true--to have no doubt thereof. But yet, if they were so -thoroughly convinced, why, when they wanted me to wed another, did -they press so eagerly for a divorce at the court of Rome--a divorce -from a dead man! They must, at least, have doubted. Thus they taught -me to doubt; and, ere I yield even to my king's authority, I must see -and inquire for myself. All I ask is, let me find him living, or find -where they buried him. His arms, his look, must have shown, whoever -found the body, that he was no ordinary man, to be buried with the -common herd on the spot where he fell." - -Richard shook his head, saying, "Alas, lady, you know not what a field -of battle is. The blows and bloody wounds, the trampling of the flying -multitude, the horses' hoofs, will often deface every feature, and -leave the dead body no resemblance to the living man; and, as for -arms, there is always hovering round a field of battle a foul flock of -human vultures, ready to despoil the dead, the moment that the tide of -contest ebbs away." - -"But this was a mere skirmish," replied the lady. - -"I know, I know," said Richard. "He was hurrying across the country -with a few score Lancastrian spears, to join Margaret at Tewksbury, -when he was encountered by Sir Walter Gray, with a superior force. But -think you, had he been alive, no tidings would have reached you from -himself, no message, no letter?" - -"That he should have sent none would indeed be strange," replied the -lady; "but you know not, my lord, how I have been watched and guarded. -I know that some of my letters from Denmark were actually stopped; -and, till within the last two years, I have been almost a prisoner. -Nay, more, I find they spread a report that I was married to the earl -of Hamilton, amongst many other strokes of policy to bend me to their -wishes. All these things have made me doubt. 'Tis true, I cannot fully -give way to hope; but yet I perceive clearly they themselves do not -feel sure Arran is dead." - -"Well, lady, my best assistance you shall have," answered Richard. -"All sheriffs of counties, and their officers, shall be commanded to -give you aid--ay, and to prosecute the search themselves; and to -monasteries and abbeys you will need no commendation." - -"Thanks, gracious prince," replied the lady; and Richard, with an air -of real kindness, answered: - -"No thanks are merited, where the pleasure received is far more than -that given. Would I could aid you farther!" - -And then, changing the conversation, he added: "You have been to see -my poor unhappy queen, I find. She is sadly ill, poor Anne; and the -physicians give but very little hope." - -"She looks ill indeed," replied the princess; "yet, I trust that care -and skilful tending may restore her." - -Richard shook his head, and fell into a fit of thought, or seemed to -do so. - -"Her heart has received a wound that will never heal," he answered, at -length, with a sigh. "Man's nature resists these things; but woman's -yields. Always a delicate flower, this last storm has crushed her. Our -beautiful boy, our Edward, our only one, to be snatched from us in -this sudden and fearful way! It was enough, surely it was enough, to -break a heart so tender as hers. Alas, lady, I must not indulge in -hope. But this conversation unmans me," he continued. "I am not fit -now to discuss matters of urgent business. To-night, lady, to-night we -will talk of the marriage of your nephew with my niece. At present, I -can think of nothing but my dead boy, and my dying wife. Farewell, -then, farewell for the present. Alas, poor lady! It has fallen hard -upon her;" and, turning sharply away, he quitted the room, muttering -words to himself, as if solely occupied with the fate of his wife, and -the loss of his son. - -The moment he had closed the door, however, he took the arm of -Ratcliffe, who was still in waiting, and led him along the corridor, -speaking to him in a low voice. - -"We must conclude this matter speedily," he said--"the marriage, -Ratcliffe. I mean the marriage. I will have you go yourself." - -"I am ready this moment, sire," answered Ratcliffe. "But tell me where -I am to go, and my foot shall be in the stirrup within half an hour." - -"Where?" exclaimed Richard, in a tone of surprise, "why, to the -sanctuary at Westminster, to be sure. I must have you deal with our -good sister, Elizabeth of Woodville, the queen dowager, and persuade -her to give her girls into my safe custody." - -"That were difficult, very difficult, my lord," replied Ratcliffe. - -"Not a whit," said Richard. "Be liberal of promises; say that I will -wed her daughters to the noblest in the realm. Tell her, my own child -being dead, my brother's children become objects of love and care, -instead of fear. Assign them liberal pensions--ay, and give the same -unto the queen their mother. Tell her, her kinsmen shall be well -treated and restored to their estates and honours, and contrive to -whisper in the ear of my fair niece Elizabeth, that, were Richard -free, as he soon may be, he would set her on the throne of England. -Dost thou understand me, Ratcliffe?" - -"Ay, gracious lord, right well," replied Ratcliffe. "I have never -wanted zeal; and, if zeal can do aught, within ten days the princesses -shall be in your grace's hand." - -"Zeal! Thou hast more than zeal, Ratcliffe," exclaimed Richard. "Zeal -is the gallant horse that bears us on full speed. Wit is the hand that -guides him. Why look'st thou thoughtful, man?" - -"I was but thinking, sire," answered Ratcliffe, "that it were well to -send off messengers to the pope. To wed your niece, you must have a -dispensation. Rome has no pity for love's impatience, little -consideration for exigencies of state. 'Twere well to have matters -begun and carried on at once, with that slow court, or we shall have -objections, and at first refusals." - -"Refusals!" said Richard, with a bitter smile. "There are still -lollards in England, Ratcliffe; and by St. Paul, if he delay or -hesitate, his triple crown may lose its brightest gem. We are a devout -son of the church, my friend; but still we must be tender to our -subjects. See the bishop of London, when you are there, and bid him -cease all flame and faggot denunciations. Tell him that reasons of -state require us to be tolerant at least for the time, and insinuate -that we intend to pass an act for the relief of men's consciences." - -"He will send the news to Rome, sire," said Ratcliffe, with some -hesitation. - -"Let him," answered Richard, with a meaning smile; "'tis what I would -have! I would provide something to give up, lest Rome's demands should -be too unreasonable. A little fear, too, is salutary. So see him, see -him, and put the matter as I have said, strongly enough to create -alarm, not strongly enough to give offence. But the queen and her -daughter must be first dealt with. Let me have her forth from -sanctuary, and my wife no longer in the way between us; and I will -pass over papal dispensations, and laugh at Roman thunders. You have -your directions, away." - -Thus saying, he turned to the door of his cabinet, round which several -persons were waiting. - -"Lord Fulmer has arrived, your grace, and is waiting below in the -green chamber," said one of the attendants. - -"Bring him hither," answered Richard; "and mark me, if any news come -from the coast, give the messengers instant admission;" and he entered -the cabinet. - - - - -CHAPTER XXXII. - - -Richard had seated himself, and taken up a paper from the table, which -he was perusing attentively, when Lord Fulmer entered. He laid down -the letter instantly, however, and gave the young nobleman the most -flattering reception. - -"This is kind indeed, my lord," he said, extending his hand to him. "I -did not think the journey could have been performed so quickly. It -shows that you look upon the king's service as paramount indeed, when -you can quit your lady love thus, at a moment's notice, to render him -assistance." - -Unwittingly the monarch touched upon a tender point, as the reader is -aware, and Fulmer felt in painfully. A cloud came upon his brow; and -he replied, somewhat coldly, that he was always ready to serve the -king. - -"So, so," thought Richard, who was a great master of looks, and a -great observer of them, "this young man is moody. I suppose my -messenger arrived just in time. We must put a stop to this." - -"I am glad to hear it is so, my lord," he said aloud, in a somewhat -proud and kingly tone; "for while we can, as you know, curb with a -strong hand the turbulent and the rebellious, we are ever willing to -shower honours and rewards upon those who serve us zealously and -faithfully." - -"The only reward I desire, your grace," replied Fulmer, "is your kind -permission to complete my marriage with the Lady Iola St. Leger as -speedily as may be. I and my family have ever been faithful servants -to the house of York. We have never changed our faction; and to your -grace's person you know I am attached. I trust then that I may have -your permission." - -"Ay, and much more," answered Richard. "There are intentions in my -bosom towards you, and my good Lord Calverly, which need not be -mentioned; but they will bear fruit--they will bear fruit;" and he -nodded his head significantly. "As soon as this expedition is over, on -which I would have you go,--I mean into Dorsetshire, to guard the -coast there for a few days, and put down the turbulent spirit of the -people in those parts, your marriage shall take place." - -"May it not take place as I go thither, sire?" asked Fulmer, with an -impatient tone. "I must have a day or two for preparation. 'Tis but -the last ceremonies of the church are wanting; and I know that I shall -have Lord Calverly's good will. I will set off immediately, when she -is my own. - -"What," exclaimed Richard, "has not my Lord Calverly told you that we -propose to be present ourselves? He concealed it from you, to make it -a pleasant surprise. No, no, this business admits of no delay. These -turbulent peasants must be put down, before their discontent becomes -dangerous; and you must away at once." - -"May I speak plainly to your grace?" demanded Fulmer. - -Richard bowed his head gravely; and the other went on, in a somewhat -mortified tone. - -"In quitting Chidlow castle now, for your grace's service," he said, -"I leave a somewhat dangerous rival with my promised bride." - -"A rival!" said Richard. "Who may that be? I thought she was -contracted to you." - -"It is so, sire," answered Fulmer; "but we all know that no contracts -are held very valid, by some men, against the power of love." - -"My brother Edward thought so," answered Richard, with a sarcastic -turn of the lip. "Who may this rival be, I say?" - -"No other than the Lord Chartley," answered Fulmer, "whom your grace -has placed in ward with the lady's uncle." - -"What, that gay youth again!" exclaimed Richard, with a laugh. "By my -faith he meets us at every turn. But he shall be looked to--make your -mind easy--he shall be looked to. Only serve us faithfully and well, -and the lady's hand shall be yours, whoever may gainsay it." - -"Her hand were of little value to me, my good lord and sovereign," -replied Fulmer, boldly, "if her heart be given to another." - -"Her heart!" said Richard, with one of those low, cold, withering -laughs, so painful to an enthusiastic mind; "well, well, be you easy, -this gay fisherman of hearts, this Chartley, shall be removed in a -week or two, to some other place." - -Fulmer was just in the act of muttering to himself--"In a week or -two!" when the door of the cabinet was opened; and a gentleman in -dusty apparel entered. - -"They bade me come in, sire," he said, in a blunt tone, "though the -news I bear is not a fair exchange for a gracious welcome. The earl of -Oxford, with some other gentlemen of repute, has broken out of Ham -castle, and has taken the way to Britanny." - -Richard smiled; and, seeing that the gentleman had something more to -add, he said-- - -"Go on." - -"It is but a rumour," answered the other; "but, when at Dover, tidings -were brought, that Sir John Fortescue, one of your officers in Calais, -with twelve young gentlemen of good stock, had followed the same -course." - -"Ha!" said Richard, in a sterner tone. "Is this so wide spread? But it -matters not," he added the moment after, with the smile returning to -his lip. "I have the wasp in my gauntlet; and he cannot sting, but -die." - -"There was much turbulence in Kent too, as I rode along," said the -blunt messenger. - -Richard mused for some moments, and then said-- - -"It is not comfortable news, Sir Arthur. Nevertheless be you welcome. -Is there anything else, you have to say?" - -"No, my liege," answered the old knight, "what I have had to say is -bad enough; but, as I came along, not three miles from York, I passed -a limber young gentleman, on a weary horse. I have seen him in John -Hutton's train; and he told me that he had ridden post, from a place -called Lyme in Dorset, whither he had come in a fishing-boat, to bear -your grace tidings from Britanny." - -The news seemed to affect Richard more than all the rest; and starting -up he exclaimed-- - -"Ha! Call me a groom, there!" - -A groom was instantly called; and the king demanded, gazing at him -with an eager eye--"Has any one arrived from Britanny?" - -"Not that I know of, sire," replied the man; "but there was some one -rode into the court just now." - -"Bring him hither, instantly," said Richard; and, seating himself -again at the table, he gnawed the side of his hand with his front -teeth. - -"Might I venture to say a word, sire?" asked Lord Fulmer. - -"No, sir, no!" exclaimed Richard, vehemently, waving his hand for -silence, and then resuming his bitter meditation. - -At the end of a few minutes, a young gentleman covered with dust, -pale, and evidently sinking with fatigue, was introduced into the -cabinet; and the king, fixing his eyes upon him, demanded--"What -news?--You are Sir John Hutton's nephew, if I mistake not." - -"The same, my liege," replied the young man, in a feeble tone. "Would -that my uncle had been still in Britanny, methinks he had watched -better." - -"Speak, speak," said the king, in as calm a voice as he could command. -"Some mischief has happened--say what has gone amiss." - -"The earl of Richmond, my gracious lord, has escaped from Vannes," -replied the young man. "He was pursued with all speed, tracked by his -own dog; but he reached the gates of Angers just as the duke's men -were at his heels." - -Richard sat for a moment as if stupified. Then turning fiercely to -Fulmer, he exclaimed, "Is this a time to talk of marriages? To horse, -Lord Fulmer, and away. Your instructions shall be ready in an hour. -Serve the king well, and the brightest lady in all the land shall be -yours, if you but ask her. Fail, and as I live I will give her to -another. By Heaven, we will take hostages of all men; there is too -little faith on earth. The lady's hand for the best doer! Till then, -I'll keep her sure. Away, let me hear no more!" - -Fulmer dared not express the feeling which these words called up, but -hastened from the room, with a flushed brow and cheek, while Richard, -leaning his head upon his hand, muttered once or twice, "'Tis time to -buckle on our armour." - -The two gentlemen who had brought him the intelligence which had so -moved him remained standing before him without receiving the slightest -notice, for some five minutes, though one was hardly able to stand -from fatigue, and both were somewhat alarmed at the absent and unusual -mood into which the king was plunged. His face was agitated, while he -thus thought, with a thousand shades of emotion. Now he bit his lip, -and fixed his keen eye upon the floor; now his brow contracted, and -his lip quivered; now he raised his eyes to the fretted and painted -ceiling over head, with a sort of vacant look, from which all -expression was banished; and when he at length ended this fit of -meditation with a loud laugh, both the spectators feared his powerful -mind had become affected, by the disappointment he had lately -undergone. They tried, indeed, to suppress all signs of wonder; but he -seemed to read their thoughts, the moment his spirit was re-called to -the immediate business of the hour. - -"Strange, Sir Arthur," he said, "that the things which--seen through -rage and disappointment--are magnified, as in a mist, into giant -evils, should, under a moment's calm reflection, diminish to their own -pigmy reality. Here now, a minute or two ago, I thought the escape of -this earl of Richmond from Britanny, and the reception in France, a -mighty great disaster, the earl of Oxford's flight from Ham a -portentous incident. Now it moves my merriment to think how I would -whip the dame of Derby's beggar boy back to his Breton almshouse, if -he dared to set his foot within this realm of England. By holy St. -Paul, I would give him safe conduct over the narrow seas, and not -place a galliot to impede his coming, for the mere jest of scourging -him like a truant back to school, but that our realm has bled too much -already, and that I hold the life of every subject dear. Who is this -Richmond? Where is his name in arms? On what fields has he gained -glory? Where learned he the art of war? And is it such a man as this -shall come to battle for a crown, with one whose cradle was a corslet, -his nursery a bloody fight, his schools Hexham, and Barnet, and -Tewksbury, his pedagogues York, and Salisbury, and Warwick and Edward? -Where are his generals? Will Dorset--feeble, vacillating, frippery -Dorset, lead the van, and order the battle? Methinks, it is indeed -meet matter for merriment; and I may well laugh, to think that I -should have given an anxious look towards the movements of this Tudor -boy. Say, my good friend, have all the fugitive lords gone with him -into France? But you are weary. Sit you in that chair--nay, the king, -wills it. Now answer me." - -"No, my gracious liege," replied young John Hutton; "he gave them all -the slip, I hear; sent them to the duke's court, to compliment him on -his recovery; and thus having lulled suspicion, by the sacrifice of -his friends, he fled away with only four in company?" - -"Is the good duke then well again?" asked Richard, with a slight frown -once more contracting his brow; "what news of Master Landais?" - -"I heard he was right well, sire, and in high favour with his lord," -replied the young man; "but I stayed not to learn all that was -passing; for I thought your grace had been ill-served, and, entering a -fishing-boat at once, I came over, and took horse. I have not lain in -a bed since; for, although evil news never make a welcome messenger, -yet I fancied your Highness' service might be benefitted by early -tidings; and I thought that if it should be really so, your frown -would prove lighter to me than your thanks for better tidings." - -"You did well," said Richard, gravely, "you did right well, young man; -and shall not go unrewarded. Weinants has been outwitted; over -discreet men often are. Now go and seek repose; and remember, take -your place at the board of our gentlemen of the privy chamber, till I -can place you better." - -The young man bowed, with a grateful look, and withdrew. Then turning -to the other, Richard said, "Are you too over-weary, Sir Arthur?" - -"Faith not I, my lord the king," replied the old knight. "I am -hardened. My old clay has been beat to such consistence with hard -knocks, that it cracks not easily." - -"Well, we will give you till to-morrow for repose," said Richard, -"then, good, faith, you must back to Kent, and strive to quiet the -turbulent folks. You shall have letters, and authority. 'Tis pity no -hemp grows there; but you will find ropes at Dartford--you understand -me." - -When Richard was once more left alone, he strode up and down the room -for several minutes, in much agitation. "No more losses!" he said at -length, "No more losses! They must not be suffered to fall off. This -marriage must go forward quickly, once more to heal the breaches in -the house of York. They shall not be patched with Tudor clay. We must -keep all, gain more. This young Lord Fulmer, I was somewhat stern with -him in my haste. I must smooth that down before he goes. But I will -keep my fair hostage for his faith. Chartley--there is great power and -wealth and many friends there. He must be won. Perchance this heiress -may be a meet bait for him too. Let them contend for her in the king's -service. At all events, while I have the pretty decoy in my own hand, -I can whistle either bird back to the lure." - - - - -CHAPTER XXXIII. - - -It was like a cloud passing away from a summer sky. It was as when a -weary traveller laying down the heavy burden he has carried far, by -the side of the road, stretches his freed limbs in an interval of -rest. Such was the effect of Lord Fulmer's departure from Chidlow. -Iola's light and buoyant heart bounded up from beneath the load; all -her bright and happy spirits returned; the smile came back to her lip; -and, though the rose took longer to expand upon her cheek again, yet, -after a night of sweet calm rest, some part of the bloom had returned. - -Constance was never very gay; but she was cheerful. Chartley felt that -a source of constant irritation and annoyance was removed; and, with -the happy facility of youth, he prepared to enjoy the present hour, -careless of fortune's turn the next. Even the abbess, though she knew -little or nothing of what had been passing in the hearts around her, -seemed to share in the relief, and laughed and talked in merry mood, -especially with Chartley, who was an object of high admiration to her. -Clear-sighted Sir William Arden, who had seen right well that Chartley -and his rival could not go on long in the same dwelling without danger -of bloodshed, felt his apprehensions removed; and Sir Edward -Hungerford remarked:-- - -"Well, I am glad Fulmer is gone; for he was turning marvellous fierce, -and he wore such an ill-appointed doublet. It was painful to see the -blue and yellow, and made one think of some strange bird." - -Only the good pompous lord of the castle seemed unchanged; and he, -"full of wise saws and modern instances," walked gravely about, -reasoning in very trite sort upon all he saw, and lecturing rather -than conversing. - -Early in the morning of the day after Fulmer's departure, all those -who were mere guests, invited for a day or two, took their leave and -left the castle. The abbess proposed to return to her cure on the -following morning; and Lord Calverly was laying out various plans for -making the heavy time pass lightly, when a courier arrived with -letters from the king's lieutenant in the county. - -"Now good faith," he said, "this is unfortunate; for it breaks all my -purposes. This noble lord here requires my immediate presence, to -consult as to the best and most approved means of preserving peace and -tranquillity in the county. He knows I have some experience in such -things; and, though my judgment be but a poor judgment, yet he has -confidence therein. Strange stories are current, he says, of meetings -of peasantry by night, and strangers coming from distant parts to be -present thereat. God forefend that there should be new troubles -coming! But I must to horse and away. I will return before night; and, -in the mean time, lords and ladies, you must amuse yourselves as best -you may. There are fish in the stream, deer in the park, chess, dice, -and other games in the little hall, instruments of music in the -gallery, lutes, citherns, and the rest, so that you have means of -entertainment if you seek it; and, good faith, if you are dull I -cannot help it; for you know, my Lord Chartley, the call of duty is -imperative, and courtesy, which gives place to nothing else, must -yield to that." - -They were not dull; but how shall I describe the passing of that day? -To Chartley and to Iola it was a long draught of the cup of joy. Did -they drink too deeply? I almost fear they did. Chartley _resolved_ to -act in all things prudently, to be calm, quiet, and upon his guard, -though courteous and easy, as he would be to any lady in whom he had -no interest. Iola _resolved_ neither to be cold nor warm in manner -towards him, neither to encourage nor to repel, to seek nor to avoid, -to let his conduct be the guide of hers, to govern her feelings and to -tranquillise her heart. - -Oh, resolutions, resolutions! How that heart, which was to be so -tranquil, beat, when her uncle rode away, and she felt herself left -with him she loved, to pass the hours almost as they would! Heaven -knows how they flew. Chartley was often with her. He did not shut -himself in his chamber. He did not ride out to hunt, nor walk forth to -meditate alone. At first he conversed with her, as they had done at -their meeting in the abbey, gaily, cheerfully, with a vein of thought -running through the merriment, and a touch of feeling softening the -whole. But they were sometimes left alone together; and gradually they -began to call up the memories of the past, to talk of scenes and -incidents which had occurred, and words which had been spoken during -the long adventurous night they had passed in the forest. It was -dangerous ground; they felt it shake beneath them; but yet they would -not move away. Their hearts thrilled as they spoke. Iola, with the eye -of memory, saw Chartley sitting at her feet; and he, in fancy, felt -her breath fanning his cheek as her head drooped upon his shoulder in -sleep. Oh, how treacherous associations will open the gates of the -heart to any enemy that desires to enter! They approached nearer and -nearer to subjects which they had determined to avoid; they even spoke -of them in circuitous and ambiguous phrases. The words which they -uttered did not express their full meaning, but the tones and the -looks did; and, by the time that the sun had sunk to within half an -hour's journey of the horizon, Iola and Chartley knew that they loved -each other, as well as if they had spoken and vowed it a thousand -times. - -She was agitated, much agitated, it is true, but perhaps less so than -he was; and to see why, we must look for a moment into their hearts. -Iola felt that in loving him she was doing no wrong, that the contract -which bound her to Lord Fulmer was altogether void and invalid, that -marriages in infancy, where that mutual and reasonable consent is -absent, upon which every contract must be based, were altogether -unlawful; and that therefore, morally and religiously, she was as free -as if her relations had never unjustly made a promise in her name. It -may be that she had been easily convinced--it may be that love for one -and disliking for another had smoothed the way for such conviction; -but still she was _convinced_; and no consciousness of doing wrong -added weight to other emotions. She might contemplate the future with -dread; she might gaze upon the coming days as upon a wide sea of -tumultuous waves, through which she could see no track, beyond which -appeared no shore; and she might tremble lest the billows should -overwhelm her. But she felt confident in the protection of Heaven, and -sure that she was doing nought to forfeit it. - -Not so exactly Chartley. Not alone the future, but the present also, -had its darkness for him. He knew not her exact situation; he knew not -whether the ceremonies of the church--often in those days performed -between mere children, and looked upon, when once performed, as a -sacrament, merely requiring an after benediction to be full and -complete--had or had not taken place between her and Lord Fulmer. His -reason might teach him that such espousals, where neither the heart -nor the judgment were consulted, were in themselves wicked and -dangerous; but his mind had not yet reached the point of considering -them quite invalid. He had been brought up as a strict Roman Catholic. -It was the only religion tolerated in his native land; and, although -he could not but see that gross corruptions had crept into the church -to which he belonged, and that many of the grossest of those -corruptions had been made the foundation of dogmas even more dangerous -than themselves, yet, not having met with any of the followers of -Wickliffe, he had never heard the heresies, the idolatries, or the -usurpations of the Roman church fully exposed--nor indeed -attacked--till passing through Bohemia, in his return from the East, -he had met with some of the disciples of Huss at a small road-side -inn. The conversation had been free; for, far from large towns, the -doctrines which the council of Constance could not suppress were more -boldly spoken; and Chartley heard words which shook his faith in the -infallibility of Rome, and made him, determine to inquire and judge -for himself at an after period. He had not yet inquired, however; and, -even while he gave way to the impulses of the heart, he felt doubtful, -fearful of his own conduct. Had such not been the case, the passion in -his breast would have found open and undisguised utterance. Dangers -and difficulties he would have set at nought; impediments he would -have overleaped, with the knowledge that he was loved in return. But -now he doubted, as I have said, hesitated, suffered his love to be -seen, rather than declared it openly. - -The abbess sat embroidering at one end of the hall, while Iola and -Chartley stood together in the oriel window at the other; and Sir -William Arden, with the right knee thrown across the left, and his -head bent, pored over the miniatures in a richly illuminated -manuscript of Monstrelet, lifting his eyes from time to time, with a -thoughtful look, towards Chartley and Iola, and thinking, if the truth -must be told, that Constance was somewhat long absent. The glow of the -evening sun, poured full through the window at which the lovers were -standing, concentrated upon them by the stone work; and, both so -beautiful and full of grace, they looked in that haze of golden beams -like the old pictures of saints in glory. Just at that moment -Constance entered the hall with a light step, and a more cheerful look -than usual. She too had been reading; and she had found what she -sought, truth--truth, which came home to her own heart, and dispelled -every doubt and shadow within it. She looked up at the window, as she -crossed the hall, and said, in a low sweet voice: - -"What a fair evening! The sunset must look beautiful from the -ramparts." - -"So it must!" exclaimed Iola. "Let us go out and enjoy it. Will you -come, dear lady mother?" she added, raising her voice to reach the ear -of the abbess. - -"No, dear child, no," replied the elder lady, "I must finish this -cat's head. I never saw such a troublesome puss in my life;" and she -laughed merrily. "I cannot get her whiskers in, all I can do. When I -make them black, they look like a spot of ink, and when I make them -white, they look like a drop of cream. But go, my children, go. The -evening is beautiful; and sunsets and sunrises, and such sort of -things, do young people good. Forget not to tell your beads, Iola, as -he goes down; for no one can ever tell what his rising may look upon." - -Without any other covering of the head than that which they wore in -the house, the two girls went forth with Chartley, Sir William -starting up and following. It need not be asked how the party divided -itself. Ah, it is a pleasant number, four. It does not admit of much -variety; but, on most occasions, it is perfect in itself. Happy Iola, -how gaily she walked on by Chartley's side, round those same walls -which she had trod some evenings before, with a pale cheek and anxious -eye, and a heart well nigh despairing. Now all the scene was bright -and beautiful, on the one side spreading out the purple glow of -evening, on the other, the pale primrose of the west growing fainter -at the approach of night, and the golden hills all round crowning -themselves with the beams of the departing sun. As if to leave them -free room to say all that might be sweet, yet dangerous, to say, Sir -William Arden and Constance lingered a good way behind, paused often, -once or twice sat down, till Iola and Chartley, circling all round the -walls, came back to them again. - -What was Sir William Arden doing? I verily believe he was making love -in his own peculiar way; for, every now and then, in the midst of -smiles at some odd frank speech, a faint blush fluttered over -Constance's fair cheek, as if she felt that, in his warmer words, -there was an allusion to herself. - -Chartley and Iola passed them by, each party so full of their own -thoughts as not to notice the other. - -"It was indeed," said Chartley, "a night ever to be remembered--at -least by me--a night full of sensations new, and deep, and thrilling; -sensations known but once in a whole lifetime. Nor do I think that you -will ever forget it. Did I not tell you, that it was one of those -points of time which raise their heads above the waste of the past, -and are seen like a mountain peak, till man is at the end of his -journey?" - -"It cannot be forgot, indeed," replied Iola, and cast her eyes down -thoughtfully. - -"Strange words you spoke that night," continued Chartley; "words that -to me were then like the mysterious figures upon Egyptian stones, of -which I could interpret nothing. Now, alas, I have got the key." - -"What words?" demanded Iola. "What words of mine can even from memory -produce so sad a tone?" and she looked up in his face, with the -feeling of her heart but too plainly written in her eyes. - -"You spoke," replied Chartley, "words that have rung in my ear ever -since, 'Happy are those who have no ties to bind them!' I now knew of -what ties you spoke--" and he added, almost vehemently, "Oh that I -could rend them, and scatter them to the winds." - -"Chartley!" said Iola, pausing for an instant, and then immediately -resuming her walk. - -"Forgive me!" said Chartley. "I know I am wrong. I know it is very -wrong, even to feel what I feel, and that to speak it is worse. -Forgive me." - -"There is nothing to forgive," replied Iola, in a very low tone. "You -have done no wrong, that I know of." - -"Oh yes, I have," answered Chartley. "I have agitated and alarmed you -by my rash words. You tremble, even now." - -"Every wind will move a willow," answered Iola. "If I tremble, -Chartley, it is not from what you think; but, I say you have done no -wrong, and I mean it." - -"What, not to acknowledge love to the wife of another?" said Chartley. - -"I, I, his wife!" said Iola, with a start. "No, no, I am not, and -never will be. The sin were, if I vowed to love where I cannot love, -if I promised what cannot be performed;" and, casting her eyes to the -ground again, she clasped her hands together, and walked on by his -side in silence. - -"What then," said Chartley, after a moment's thought, "has not the -church's sanction of your contract been pronounced?" - -She remained silent for about a minute, ere she answered; and the many -changes which passed over her beautiful countenance, during that short -space, are impossible to describe. Then she looked up again, with one -of those bright and glorious looks, in which a happy spirit seems to -speak out, triumphing over dark thoughts or memories; but still there -were drops in her eyes. - -"Hear what there exists," she said. "I had little knowledge of it -myself till I came here; but this, I now learn, is all. There is a -cold parchment, contracting in marriage one Iola St. Leger to one -Arnold Lord Fulmer. To it are signed the names of Calverly, Talbot, -Bouchier, Savage, and other peers and gentlemen, having some -guardianship over, or interest in, those two persons mentioned. But, -above all," she added, with a faint smile and a rueful shake of the -head, "are two crosses, somewhat crooked, shaken, and unseemly; for, -in truth, I think our little hands must have been guided in the making -of them, which, as at the side it is testified in clerkly hand, are -the signatures of Arnold Lord Fulmer and Iola St. Leger. This is all, -Lord Chartley." - -"Then you are mine," said Chartley, in a low, deep, eager tone; "then -you are mine. Tell me not of obstacles, think me not over bold. Iola -would never have uttered what she has, had her heart not been ready to -say, Yea; and as for obstacles, I will devour them like a flame." - -Iola now trembled more than before. - -"Hush, hush!" she said, "Do not speak so vehemently; you frighten me, -Chartley. I must beseech you to do nothing rashly. Say nothing to any -one at present--nay, not a word. I must entreat, I must beg--and" -resuming in a degree her gay tone, she added: "more, I must command, -that you interfere not in the least. You are my servant, are you not? -Well then, servant, I order you to take no part in this whatever. Fear -nothing, Chartley. Light as I seem, gay, as I am, gentle as I would -fain be to all, I can be as firm as iron, where I am sure I have right -on my side, as I am sure here. I cannot love him. I will not marry -him; but the refusal must come from my own lips, and not be spoken by -another." - -"But they may find means to overbear your will," said Chartley, -"unless you have some support--ay, and that support must be a strong -arm, a stout heart, and powerful means." - -"Should the time ever come when I need it," said Iola, "you shall -have instant notice." - -"But they may force you into a convent," said Chartley. "That, I -believe, is within their power to do. At least, I have heard of -several instances where it has been done." - -"They would find it difficult with me," replied Iola. "They might -force me into a prison, it is true; but vows against my conscience I -will never take, to mortal man or to the altar. One thing, perhaps, -they can do; for of that I know little. They may take from me these -broad lands, and the goodly heritage which my father possessed and -forfeited. I am reputed to be their heiress; but doubtless my uncle -can take them from me, if I obstinately oppose his will." - -"That is not worth a thought," answered Chartley. "Wealth has -undoubtedly its value, my Iola; but it is not happiness, and only a -small ingredient therein. Let us speak of things of more importance. I -cannot but fear you calculate too much upon your strength, your -courage, and your power of resistance. But leave the matter to me, and -I will contrive to cut the gordian knot of all difficulties, in a very -short space of time. There is a plan before my eyes, even now, which -could hardly fail us." - -"Would you cut that knot, like the Macedonian, with your sword?" said -Iola, gazing at him with a meaning look. "No, Chantey, that must not -be. If you love me as you say, you will not attempt it. Nay, more, you -will trust to me, and to the promise which I make, to call upon you at -once, in the moment of need, whenever that moment comes." - -"But I may be absent. You may have no means," replied Chartley. - -"Ah, I have means and messengers that you know not at," answered Iola -gaily, "fairies that will fly like swallows with my messages, elves of -the green wood that will track you for me through their darkest -bowers. Nay, I am serious, Chartley. What would you think if I were to -tell you that even in the midnight, with doors all bolted, barred, and -locked, the keys lying by the heavy porter's head, and all the warders -snoring in their beds, I can pass forth from this castle, and sport -upon the lawns and slopes around, as if it had no walls--nay, that I -have done it." - -"Then you are a fairy yourself," answered Chartley, "as I have been -half inclined to think ere now. But I have your promise; your solemn -promise, that nothing shall ever force you, to this detested marriage, -and that you will send to me, or give me notice, the moment that my -aid is needful--and not delay too long." - -"I will," she answered, emphatically. "Methinks you would not find it -difficult to guard me once more through the green forest, as you did -one night we both remember; and should it be needful, Chartley, so to -do, I will then trust as implicitly to your honour as I did before; -for Iola will be wholly at your mercy. But I must have promise for -promise, and vow for vow. You must assure me that, whatever you see, -whatever you hear, you will remain quiescent, and leave the whole -decision to myself." - -"Then if that youth returns," answered Chartley, "I must shut myself -up in my dull tower, and make myself a prisoner indeed." - -Iola smiled, saying in a low tone-- - -"It might perhaps be better--if Chartley cannot rule Chartley. But -happily there is no chance of my being pressed on this sad subjects -for weeks or months to come, as I learn from Constance that the king -has refused to give an immediate consent; for which I could almost -say, Heaven bless him." - -"That is happy news indeed," answered Chartley; "and yet, Iola, I -could wish that if a struggle is to be made, it might be soon made; -for nothing is so painful as uncertainty." - -"All men are alike in that, I see," replied Iola; "we women love to -put off the evil day." - -"It may indeed, in this instance, be as well," answered Chartley, "for -it gives time for preparation; and that I will commence at once." - -"Preparation for what?" demanded Iola in some surprise. - -"For any thing that may occur," replied Chartley; "but for one thing -we must both be prepared, sweet Iola--for flight--ay, flight to -distant lands, love; for think not that if we venture to unite our -fate by the dearest and the holiest rite, against the consent of your -family, in defiance of their contract, and without the king's -permission, this land will be safe for us thenceforward. Richard is -well fitted to find treason in such acts; and, if he cannot part you -from your husband, to take your husband's head. My preparation -therefore must be, not only to secure a refuge in another land, but to -provide means there, to keep us from poverty or dependence. But that -will be easily accomplished. Will you regret it, Iola? Will you shrink -from it--to pass some few years with Chartley on a foreign shore, and -leave this fair land and all the memories of home behind you?" - -"No, oh no!" she answered; "I will neither shrink nor regret. My home -will ever be with my heart--" she paused, and the crimson spread gently -over her cheek, as she felt how much her words implied. Her eyes too, -sunk under the warm, and tender, and grateful gaze which was bent upon -her; but the next moment she asked, in her low sweet tones--"Will you -never regret, Chartley? Will you never think that you have paid for -Iola's hand too dear a price, when memory turns back to your native -land, high station, wealth, ambition, all sacrificed for her?" - -"Never," answered Chartley; "were it to cost me all, and leave us but -a cabin and bare food, I would not hesitate now, or regret hereafter. -I do but change dross for a jewel of inestimable price, and I will -value it ever as I do now." - -They were both silent for several minutes; and then, as they turned -the north western angle of the walls, they saw the sun setting in the -splendour of scattered clouds, and Constance and Sir William Anton -advancing towards them. Iola perceived that her cousin's step wanted -its quiet steadiness; and when her eye fixed on her face, a blush rose -in Constance's cheek. - -"There is the sun setting and your uncle rising, lady," said Sir -William Arden, in a gay voice, pointing with his hand in the direction -of the road across the park, upon which several horsemen might be seen -advancing--"we shall soon have the light of his countenance, though -the star goes down." - -"Let us go in," said Iola, in a hurried tone; "perhaps we have already -staid out too long; but the evening has been so beautiful." - -"And the conversation so sweet," said Arden, almost in a whisper to -Constance; "so should close the phrase both with Chartley and with me, -if I had aught of the court in my nature. I will study, dear lady--I -will study, and rub off the rust which has gathered between my armour -and my skin." - -"No--Be ever, what you are," answered Constance. - - - - -CHAPTER XXXIV. - - -Another day elapsed, and another. The sunshine mingled with the shade; -as is ever the case in human life; but there were no dark clouds. -Sometimes, for many hours, Chartley and Iola could obtain not a single -moment for private intercourse. At others, a whole sweet hour was won -from the great adversary of love, the world. Lord Calverly perceived -not, or did not seem to perceive, that anything was changed; and the -lady abbess set off to rejoin her nuns, as ignorant of the secrets of -Iola's heart as she had come. Thus wore away the second day, till -towards nightfall, when the whole party of the castle returned from -their evening ride, and entered the great court. The porter did not -venture to stop his lord's horse, as he passed the archway; but he -followed him into the court, with a quick step, saying aloud-- - -"Lord Fulmer is returned, my lord, and wishes to speak with your -lordship instantly. He is in the little hall." - -The old nobleman dismounted from his horse, and, leaving Iola and -Constance to the care of the rest, hurried up the manifold steps which -led to the door. - -Chartley's cheek flushed, as he heard the words the porter spoke; but, -as he stood by Iola's side, assisting her to dismount, she said in a -low but earnest tone-- - -"Chartley, to your tower, till you can command yourself--I beseech--I -entreat you--if you love me." - -Chartley bowed his head in sign of acquiescence; and, not considering -that Lord Fulmer could not know all that had passed between Iola and -himself, since his departure, he consoled himself with the thought, -"If this lord keeps the spirit which he has hitherto displayed, he -will soon seek me in my chamber." - -Thus thinking, he turned away to the apartments assigned to him, while -Iola, Constance, and Sir William Arden entered the main body of the -building. The latter, however, seeing Iola take her cousin's arm, and -whisper something in her ear, tarried in the great hall, while the two -fair girls ascended the stairs. - -The words of Iola to her cousin were--"Come with me, Constance. -Something tells me in my heart that the hour of trial is coming. Let -me meet it at once, before my spirit sinks with anticipation. But I -must have something to lean on, dear cousin. You be my support." - -They walked on, till they reached the door of the little hall; and it -was not climbing the steps of the stairs, though they were many, that -made Iola's breath come short and quick. It was the beating of the -anxious heart. She opened the door at once, however, and went in. Her -uncle and Lord Fulmer were standing together at some distance on the -right of the door in earnest conversation; and, as soon as Iola and -her cousin entered, Lord Calverly retreated towards the oriel window, -saying to his companion-- - -"Come hither, come hither." - -But Iola would not give up the ground; and, though she walked to the -other end of the hall, she remained in the room. She turned an anxious -and eager gaze towards her uncle and Lord Fulmer, however, and -whispered to Constance--"I knew it--see how eagerly they speak." - -They spoke so long that the suspense was very painful; but, at length, -they turned, as if to come towards the two ladies, and Lord Fulmer -said aloud-- - -"Upon my honour and my faith, not a word shall be uttered without your -permission;" and then they advanced with a quick step, Lord Calverly -only saying in reply-- - -"So be it then." - -Iola gazed at them in the dim light, for the sun was by this time -down; and her hand clasped tight upon her cousin's arm-- - -"Now, God help me," she murmured. - -"Iola, my dear niece," said Lord Calverly, approaching, "I have a -communication to make to you, which will take you somewhat by -surprise; but you have received an education which will make you -always submit to duty, I am sure, unmurmuring. This noble lord here -has just informed me of circumstances which render it absolutely -necessary that we should pass over all preliminaries, and that you -should give him your hand immediately, according to the contract -entered into long ago." - -"Iola gasped, and tried to answer, but her voice failed her; and Lord -Calverly went on to say-- - -"It is somewhat sudden in verity and truth; but he must depart for -Dorset by daybreak to-morrow, and therefore the marriage ceremony must -be performed to-night. The priest will be ready in the chapel at ten, -and--" - -"Impossible!" said Iola, in a firm and almost indignant tone; for this -was worse than she had expected, and it roused her anger. "What, two -hours' notice to prepare for the most important step of all a woman's -life And does this noble lord think to conciliate affection, or to win -esteem, by such indecent haste, by such a rude insult to all the -feelings of my heart?" - -"What feelings?" demanded Lord Calverly, sharply. "I see, my lord, it -is as you thought. Hark you, lady, I am not a man to be trifled with. -I have ruled my own household well and steadily; and, please God, I -will rule you too. No one has ever been suffered to disobey me; and -you shall not be the first. Go and prepare. What, ho, without there?" -he continued, turning to the door; and a servant running up, he -said--"Bring lights here. Where is Lord Chartley?" - -"Gone to his apartments, noble lord," replied the man. - -"Set a guard at his door," said Lord Calverly. "Let his servants pass -in and out, but not himself." - -Then turning again to Iola, with an angry tone, he said-- - -"Marry! The feelings of your heart! We begin to understand them, -niece. What have the feelings of your heart to do with a contract of -marriage already signed and sealed?" - -"Everything," replied Iola; "in as far as upon them depends whether I -will or will not fulfil a contract entered into without my consent, -and which therefore cannot be binding on me." - -"Idle nonsense," cried Lord Calverly; "you know little of the law of -the land, my learned gentlewoman. God's my life! We shall soon have -chits out of a nunnery-school setting up for chief justices. The -contract was entered into by your guardians on your behalf, and is -binding upon you by law." - -"Then let him appeal to the law to enforce it," said Iola; "for by my -act and my will, it shall never be fulfilled." - -"Nay, nay, my dear uncle," said Constance, "you are too harsh with -her. Think what a surprise this must be, when you yourself told me -that the king had not yet given his consent to the marriage, and that -it must be put off for a month or two, till he and the queen could be -present. Of course, she marvels at this sudden change; for I told her -exactly what you told me." - -"More fool you, wench," answered her uncle, who was irritated beyond -measure, at the first opposition he had ever met with, from one whom -he conceived to be dependent on himself. "Circumstances have changed; -and now we must pass over royal consents, and all such trifling -matters. She is a disobedient hussy, and shall bow her pride to my -will this very night, or my name is not Calverly. Away to your -chamber, madam, and prepare as fast as possible. You have two hours to -think. So make your mind up, as best you may, to yield obedience, or -you will find I will force you." - -Lord Fulmer had stood during this conversation, which was so rapid as -hardly to admit of interruption, in no very enviable state of mind, -and with looks by no means calm or dignified. He had thought himself -firmer and sterner than he really was, and now he hesitated and -regretted. - -"Stay, stay, my lord," he said. "Iola, let me beseech you--dear lady, -let me plead." - -"Hush, my lord," answered Iola, giving him a cold and shuddering look. -"Your cause has been put upon its proper footing, force. My noble -uncle, prompted by you, speaks the first feelings of your heart. No -after thought can now avail. You and he may drag me to the altar. You -and he may cause a vain ceremony to be performed, turn a deaf ear to -my rejection of the vows tendered me, and commit what violence you -will. But you cannot make me your wife; for that depends upon myself; -and the words which would constitute me such shall never be uttered by -these lips in favour of a man whom I never loved, and whom I now -scorn." - -"This is all vain," exclaimed Lord Calverly, his rage only increasing. -"Argue not with her, my lord; she will learn her duty when she is your -wife. This very night--ay, as the clock strikes ten--the ceremony -shall be performed in the chapel of the castle, whether she will or -not; and, once that sacrament received, the union is indissoluble. My -chaplain will administer it. He will have no scruples to obey my -commands, when I show him the contract. Away to your chamber, -disobedient wench, and be ready to perform what you cannot refuse." - -With a slow step, and still leaning on her cousin's arm, Iola quitted -the hall, mounted a few steps near the hall door, passed through the -long corridor which ran round that side of the castle, and then turned -into the passage, leading to her own chamber. Constance marvelled that -she trembled not; but Iola's step was firm and light, though somewhat -slow. She opened the door of the ante-room, and looked in; but there -was no one there, and it was dark and vacant. - -"What will you do, dear Iola? How can I help you?" - -"No way, dear Constance," replied her cousin, "but by giving me an -hour for calm thought. Keep my girl, Susan, way from me. Tell her, I -want no lights for an hour, and only wish to think." - -"But what will you do?" asked Constance. - -"Not marry him," replied Iola; "no, not if he had an emperor's crown -to lay at my feet. Does he think this the way to win a woman's -heart?--Leave me, leave me, dear Constance! Come again in an hour. By -that time my resolution will be taken--" and as Constance turned sadly -away and closed the door, Iola added, in a low voice to herself, "and -executed." - -Slowly and thoughtfully Constance trod her way back towards the lesser -hall, pausing more than once, as if to consider some plan. When she -entered, the sconces were lighted, and her uncle and Lord Fulmer were -standing under one of them at some distance, still talking loud and -eagerly. - -"Nonsense, nonsense," cried Lord Calverly. "This is now my business. -She will disobey my commands, will she? She shall be taught -better--" Then, seeing Constance, he raised his voice, as if he had not -been speaking loud enough before, exclaiming, "Where have you left -that little rebel, Constance?" - -"In her chamber, my lord," replied Constance, in a sad tone. - -"'Twere better you stayed for her," said her uncle. - -"She sent me away, my lord," replied Constance, "refusing all -consolation." - -"Well, well, let her sulk," answered the old nobleman. "We care not -for sullenness, so we have obedience. The storm will work itself -clear, my lord, never fear;" and he resumed his conversation with -Fulmer. - -In the mean time, Constance glided out of the other door, and sought a -small room where the women servants of the castle were accustomed to -work in the evening. She found her own maid there, but not Iola's -girl, Susan; and, sending the former, to give her cousin's message, -Constance proceeded through the lower passages of the house, and under -the lesser hall, to the great hall below. It was now fully lighted; -but she found Sir William Arden still there walking up and down with a -slow step, and his arms crossed upon his chest. - -"I am very glad I have found you," said Constance, approaching him, -with an eager and confiding look. "I have something to tell you." - -"I thought so, dear lady," replied the knight. "I thought so, as soon -as I heard of this young lord's return; and so I waited here, to see -if I could help. What is it? Two or three men came in, a few minutes -ago, and took down some partizans from the wall. What may that mean?" - -"That they have set a guard at Lord Chartley's door," answered -Constance; "and that my uncle vows he will compel Iola to give her -hand to Lord Fulmer at ten tonight." - -"A guard at Chartley's door," exclaimed Arden. "Then something must be -done indeed. We must consult, dear lady; but let us seek some more -private place than this. You are not afraid to go with me?" - -"Oh no," answered Constance, giving him her hand; "you persuaded me to -tell you so the other day. But come into the passage behind the hall. -Few pass that way, I believe; and, we can speak freely there." - -Thus saying, she led him to the farther end of the wide vaulted -chamber, and thence, through a low-browed door, into a small narrow -passage, where a single lamp was twinkling. They both paused near the -doors and Constance then said, "What is to be done? You told me you -would help me on any occasion if you could. Now is the moment, my -noble friend." - -"And so I will," answered Arden, frankly; "ay, if it should cost my -heart's blood. But let me hear the whole. I will interrogate you in -order, my sweet witness. You say they have stationed a guard at -Chartley's door, and declare they will force Iola to marry this moody -boy at ten to-night. They must have discovered all that we have -fancied between her and Chartley. Is it not so?" - -"I can reach no other conclusion," answered Constance. - -"Then, where is your fair cousin?" asked Arden. - -"In her own chamber," implied Constance; "whence my uncle threatens to -drag her down at the hour named, and force her to marry a man whom she -abhors." - -"It has been done before now," said Arden, setting his teeth close. -"What does your cousin propose to do?" - -"I know not," answered Constance. "She sent me away that she might -think alone. She will refuse to the last, of that I am sure; and she -will have strength to do it firmly too; for her courage is far greater -than I ever dreamt it would be." - -"Think you the chaplain will perform the ceremony if she does refuse?" -asked Arden, in a meditative tone. - -"I fear so," answered Constance. "He is a mere creature of my uncle's, -and, as you have seen, fat, sleek, and pliable, considering venison, -and capon, and Gascon wine, much more than the service of the altar, -or the conscience of his penitents." - -"Then we must contrive to give your cousin some support in her -resistance," said Arden, gravely. "It must be done; for she shall not -be sacrificed, if I were to cleave Lord Fulmer to the chine with my -own hand. But, upon my life, it is dangerous; for, if the king has -given his consent, and we stop it with the strong hand, we shall have -the wild boar upon us, and he is a savage beast." - -"But his consent is not given," exclaimed Constance, eagerly. "That my -uncle admitted, and said they would do without. From some words, too, -I gathered that the marriage is to be concealed when it has taken -place." - -"So, so, then our course is clear enough," answered Arden. "We will -take the king's part! Otherwise, dear Constance, I must have asked you -to make up a little packet of plain clothes, and jump up _en croupe_ -behind your knight, and away with him to Britanny, as ladies did in -days of old, if tales of knight errantry are true. Upon my life it -would be no bad plan." - -"Nay, nay," said Constance, "speak seriously, Arden; for my heart is -very full of poor Iola just now." - -"But one little corner left for me," answered Arden; and then more -seriously he added, "Well, well, I will stop this marriage. Fear not; -we must begin soon, however; for it will not do to have strife in the -chapel." - -"There will not be bloodshed?" said Constance, with a look of terror. - -"Oh no, I trust not," replied Arden. "That which requires secrecy is -soon given up, when men find it must be made public. The king's name -will, I doubt not, be sufficient; but we must take means to prevent -anything like resistance being offered. How many men are there in the -castle, do you know?" - -"There were thirty-five," answered Constance, "so my maid told me; but -three of those who came from the abbey with us, and ten of my uncle's -men, went well armed to guard my aunt back, and have not yet returned. -Some, too, are cooks and kitchen men." - -"We are ten," said Arden, musing. "That is quite enough; but yet we -must have recourse to stratagem, in order to make sure that no rash -opposition brings on violence. Leave it to me, dear Constance, leave -it to me. You go to your own little chamber, say your prayers, and, -when your hour is expired, go to your pretty cousin, and tell her, old -William Arden says that they shall not marry her to any one against -her will. So let her keep a good heart, be firm, and fear not." - -"Had I not better go and tell her now," said Constance, eager to -relieve her cousin's anxiety. - -"What, little soldier, not obey your general's orders," exclaimed -Arden, laughing. "No, no, we can do nothing yet, till the time comes -near; for I suppose you would not have me tell your uncle that it was -from you my information came. I must see signs of a wedding, before I -proceed to stop it. But be content; all shall be prepared; and you be -secret, not to let any burst of joy betray that we have concerted -measures of deliverance. Now, farewell, dear Constance. Both you and -Iola keep quiet above, till all the hurly burly's done; for we shall -have hard words going, if nothing harder still, which God forfend." - -"Oh, I beseech you, let there be no violence!" said Constance, -imploringly. - -"No, no, there shall be none," replied Arden. "If they assail not us, -we will not assail them. But still women are better out of the way," -he added, kissing her hand; "for they scream, you know, Constance, and -that makes a noise." - -With a faint smile Constance left him; and turning to the hall he -recommenced his walk, till, at length, Lord Calverly came down, -pausing suddenly, when he saw his guest there. The moment after he -called for a servant, however, and gave him some orders in a low -voice, while Arden turned at the other end of the hall, and in his -perambulations approached, the place where he stood. - -"It has been a lovely day, and promises as fine a night, my lord," -said the knight, in the tone of ordinary conversation. "Methinks I -will go and take a walk upon the battlements, a cup of wine, and then -to bed; for I was stirring early to-day." - -"Would I could be companion of your walk," replied Lord Calverly, with -courteous hypocrisy. "Nothing is pleasanter than a warm moonlight -night of summer; but I have dull business to be attended to; and -business, you know, Sir William, must supersede pleasure." - -"Quite just, my lord, and wise," replied Arden, "as indeed is always -what your lordship says. I will away, however, giving you good night. -May success attend all honourable business, and then slumber bring -repose." Thus saying, he turned and left the hall; and the old -nobleman called loudly by name for some of his attendants. - - - - -CHAPTER XXXV. - - -Now the reader must remember that a castle of those days, though -fallen from the "high estate" of feudal garrison and constant -preparation, was a very different place from a modern house, whether -in town or country. Grosvenor Square will give no idea of it; and no -country mansion, not even with park wall, and lodge, and iron gates, -will assist comprehension in the least. Sir William Arden had to -traverse a considerable number of round rubble stones, before he found -himself standing under the arch by the porter's dwelling. - -The man had just given admission or exit to some one; for he was -standing at the wicket with the keys in his hand, gazing forth to the -westward, although all trace of the sun's setting had disappeared. - -Arden cast his eyes towards the south, in which direction Chartley's -tower was situated; but it was not visible from the gate; and, -satisfied on that point, the good knight turned to the porter, saying, -without any preliminary explanation, to point out the person of whom -he was about to speak, - -"He has gone to the chaplain's house under the hill, has he not?" - -"Yes, honourable sir," replied the porter. "But, by my faith, my lord -perhaps reckons without his host; for the good priest calculates upon -no marriages, baptisms, or burials, to-night; and he is just the man -to forget that such a case may happen, and lay in a share of ale or -Bordeaux, too large to let any other thoughts enter." - -"Oh, he will be sober enough to work matrimony, though he must not -undertake it himself," answered Arden. "Ha, ha, ha!" - -The porter laughed too, right joyously, saying, "Jack stopped a minute -to tell me his errand; and I could not help laughing, to think how -suddenly the matter had come on at last." - -And, as he spoke, he hung the enormous bunch of heavy keys up by the -side of the door, addressing to them the words, "Ay, you are rusty -enough to be spared more labour. Nobody will try to get into the -castle now-a-days." - -"It would be a hard morsel," answered Arden. "But who are those I saw -riding up the hill at so much speed?" - -"Heaven knows," replied the porter. "There were only two of them; and -we shall soon see what they want if they come here. It does those -knaves good to make them wait a little. So, by your leave, worshipful -sir, I will go and finish my supper." - -Sir William Arden still stood near the gate; and a minute or two after -a horn without sounded; and the porter, creeping out of his den once -more, came forward to demand, through the little iron grate, who it -was that asked admission. - -"We must see my Lord Chartley immediately," replied the man. "It is on -business of great importance." - -"Who are you, and what are you?" demanded the porter; "and who is that -old woman in white on horseback? We don't admit any witches here." - -These words were addressed to a man bearing the appearance of an -ordinary servant, with a badge upon his arm; but the janitor, as he -spoke the last words, pointed with his hand to the figure of good Ibn -Ayoub, who sat his horse like a statue, while all this was going on, -wrapped up in his white shroud-like garments, so that little or -nothing of face or person was to be seen. - -"I am the lord's slave," said the voice of the Arab, from under the -coif-like folds which shrouded his head; "and this is my comrade--what -you call a servant in this land of Giaours. Open, and let us through." - -"The orders were to admit his servants," said the porter, musing, and -turning at the same time partly towards Sir William Arden, as if -seeking his counsel. - -"Oh, let them in, let them in," said the knight. "Of course, he must -have his servants about him. There can be no wrong in that." - -The man immediately undid the bolts and bars, giving admission to the -two servants, who bowed low when they saw their master's kinsman under -the archway; and Arden, turning with them, walked by their side, -directing them to the stables. - -"Keep your news safe, whatever it is," he said in a low voice to Ibn -Ayoub, "or you may do mischief. But stay, I will wait for you, till -you come out of the stables." - -While the two men were taking in their horses, Sir William Arden -examined accurately the low range of building used as the ecury, or -cury, as it was sometimes called at Chidlow. It was very extensive, -though low, and situated under the wall for protection; but each of -the windows, small and high up as they were, were secured by strong -iron bars; and there was no means of entrance or exit, but by the -large door in the centre, and two smaller ones at the extreme ends, -but on the same face. - -"Come this way, Ibn Ayoub," said the knight, when the Arab came forth. -"I will show you the way to your lord's lodging. Go up to him at once, -and beg him to come down to my chamber below, to speak with me on some -business of importance. Say, if he meets with obstruction by the way, -not to resist, but to return quietly, and I will come to him. You will -have to pass three men with partizans on the stairs, who are keeping -watch upon the good lord; and they may perchance refuse to let him go -forth." - -"Then will I put my knife into them," said Ibn Ayoub. - -"Softly, softly, wild son of Ismael. Do no such thing, but quietly -mark all that happens; and then, when your lord is in his room again, -come down to me; but tell him he will see me soon." Such were the good -knight's last injunctions to the Arab, who then mounted the stairs of -the tower: and immediately after, some words in a sharp tone were -spoken above. Sir William Arden listened, and then entered his own -apartments, which, as I have elsewhere mentioned, were on the lower -story. Two of his servants were in waiting in his ante-room, engaged -in the very ancient game of mutton bones. A word from their master -however soon sent one of them away, and when he returned, at the end -of five minutes, he brought with him four of Chartley's men. Almost at -the same moment, Ibn Ayoub returned, saying, with rolling eyes, - -"They will not let him pass." - -"Never mind, my friend," replied Arden; "remain here with these good -men till my return; and then, be all ready with what weapons you -have." - -The Arab smiled, well pleased with the name of weapons, and bared his -sinewy arm up to the elbow. At the end of about five minutes, the -knight returned, and, in a calm and easy tone, ordered three of -Chartley's servants to go up to their lord, after which he turned to -the rest, saying, "now, good fellows, I wish you to understand clearly -what I desire to have done; and I command you in nothing to exceed the -orders you receive. There are three men on the stairs, keeping guard -upon my cousin and friend, Lord Chartley. This is contrary to the -orders of the king, and contrary to an express agreement between Lord -Chartley and Lord Calverly. I therefore intend to take those three -men, and lock them up in the room above, which looks upon the walls, -and to keep them there as long as I think proper. There must be no -bloodshed, no violence, but what is necessary to force them into that -room. You mark me, Ibn Ayoub. The great object is to avoid all noise, -which may attract others to the spot. I am not to be disobeyed in -anything, remember. Now, some one jump upon that table, and strike the -roof twice with his sword." - -One of the men sprang up, and obeyed the order; and then, saying -"Follow!" Arden went out to the foot of the stairs. He ascended a few -steps leisurely, and till sound of voices was heard above. - -"You cannot pass, my lord," said some one; "our orders are strict." - -"My orders to you are, that you get out of the way," said Chartley; -"if not take the consequences. In one word, will you move?" - -"My lord, it is impossible; you cannot pass," replied the voice, in a -louder and sterner tone; and at the same moment Arden ran rapidly up -the steps, followed by his companions, saying, "keep back, Ibn Ayoub. -Remember, no violence." - -On reaching the little square piece of level flooring, commonly called -the landing-place, at Chartley's door, he found three of Lord -Calverly's servants with partizans in their hands, in the act of -resisting the progress of the young nobleman and his two servants, who -seemed determined to make their way out. Now, of all weapons on earth, -the most unwieldy and the least fitted for use in a narrow space was -the ancient partizan. It might have been employed to advantage, -indeed, in preventing Arden from mounting a stairs. But the servants -were eagerly occupied with Lord Chartley, who was on the same level -with themselves, where they had no room to shorten their weapons, so -as to bring the spear points to bear against his breast. One of them -looked over his shoulder, indeed, at the sound of feet rushing up, but -had they turned to oppose the ascent of Sir William Arden and his -party, they exposed themselves at once to attack from Chartley and his -two servants. Thus, between Scylla and Charybdis, they were -overpowered in a moment, and their weapons taken from them. - -One of them then thought fit to say, that they had no intention of -offending, and that Lord Chartley might pass. But in profound silence -they were hurried into a small room, the windows of which looked -towards the walls, and not to the court, where the people of the -castle were likely to pass. There the door was locked and barred upon -them without any explanation; and Chartley and his friend looked at -each other and laughed. - -"Now if you will take my advice," said Sir William, addressing his -cousin, "you will stay quietly here and not meddle any more. We have -got three of them safe; we must have five or six more; and then we -shall be in force enough to deal with the rest in a body." - -"Out on it!" exclaimed Chartley. "What, shall I stay here like a -singing bird in a cage, while you are busily doing my work for me?" - -"Hear me, hear me, Chartley," said Sir William, "and don't be a fool," -and, drawing him away from the men, he said in a low voice, "remember -the king may have to deal with this at some time. Now, for me it is -all very well; for I act in the king's name, to stop a marriage to -which he has not given his consent. But with you the case is very -different, being a prisoner in ward." - -"Preach to whom you will, my dear Arden," exclaimed Chartley, "I was -not made for sitting still when other men are acting. But I'll be very -prudent, on my life. For many reasons, I would not embroil myself with -good Lord Calverly, if there be any help for it; and when you deal -with him, I'll be your lackey, and wait without, unless I hear I am -wanted. In the mean time, however, I must help you to put some of -these rats into the rat-trap, and now let us lose no precious moments. -Where do you begin? With the porter?" - -"No, no," answered Arden. "We must let the priest and the man who is -gone for him pass in first, or we shall have an alarm given. Besides, -I want to speak with the priest. So you had better take these men, and -secure all the fellows in the stables. There must be several of them -there now, tending their lord's horses after the ride; for I will -answer for it they all supped first. Remember there are three doors; -and you have nothing to do but lock each of them. Then you have our -men, as you say, in a rat-trap. I, in the mean time, will gather -together the rest of our own people, and come to you there, after I -have seen and spoken to the priest, and locked up the porter, and any -of his men that I can get." - -On this briefly sketched out plan they acted, Chartley and his -attendants securing, without the slightest difficulty, two of Lord -Calverly's grooms, and three of Lord Fulmer's, in the stables, without -the prisoners even knowing, at first, that they were locked in. In the -mean time, Arden, passing alone through those parts of the castle in -which the servants generally congregated, gathered together two or -three of Chartley's men, who had not previously been summoned, sent -one of them to call the rest quietly out into the court, and then -proceeded towards the porter's lodging, followed at a little distance -by two of the men. In crossing the court towards the gateway, he found -that he was just in time; for the priest had hastened with reverent -diligence to obey Lord Calverly's summons; and he was already half way -between the barbican gate and the great door of the hall. Arden -stopped him, however, saying, "Ay, good evening, father, I am glad to -see you; for I want to put to you a case of conscience." - -"Holy Mary, I cannot stop now, my son," cried the priest; "for I have -been summoned by my good lord in haste." - -"What, is he ill? Is he dying? Are you going to shrive him?" exclaimed -Arden, with affected apprehension, still standing in the priest's way. - -"No, no," cried the worthy man, impatiently; "'tis but to marry the -Lady Iola to the Lord Fulmer. The hour is ten; and 'tis coming fast." - -"Not so, not so," said Arden; "'tis not yet half past nine; and I must -have my doubt resolved before you go." - -"Then speak it quick," cried the priest, sharply. "You should choose -fitter times." - -"'Tis but this," said Arden, with a smile. "If a man see another about -to do a wrong thing, and one which may produce great danger to -himself, is it a sin to stop him, even by force?" - -"A sin!" exclaimed the priest, with a not very decent interjection, -common in those days, but which cannot be admitted there; "no sin at -all, but a good work. There, let me pass." - -Arden made way and walked on, laughing, to the gate, where he found -the porter just entering his own abode, and saying good night to one -of the servants, who had been sitting with him. - -"Why, you have not closed the gates for the night, have you, porter?" -said Arden, standing in the door-way of the lodge, so as to oppose the -egress of either of the two. - -"Yes, indeed, I have, worshipful sir," replied the man. - -"Why, the priest will have to go forth," said Arden. - -"Not he," cried the porter, with a laugh, which was echoed by the -other servant. "After he has done his function, he'll get as drunk as -a fiddler, and sleep on one of the truckle beds. I should not wonder -if I had him here knocking for accommodation; but he shall not have -it." - -As he spoke, he deliberately hung the keys upon a peg, just at the -side of the door. - -"These are large keys," said Sir William, taking them down, to the -man's surprise, and fixing in his own mind upon the one which he -supposed to belong to the door of the lodge. - -"Yes, they are, sir," answered the porter, somewhat gruffly. "Be -pleased to give them to me. I never suffer them out of my hands." - -"Back, knave! Would you snatch them from me," exclaimed Arden, -thrusting him vehemently back; and the next moment he pulled the door -to, by the large bowed handle, and applied the key to the lock. It did -not prove the right one, however; and he had some difficulty in -holding the door close, against the united efforts of the two men in -the inside, till he had found one to fit the keyhole. - -Chartley's men, however, had been trained to activity and vigilance, -in travelling with their lord; and the two who had followed Sir -William Arden, seeing a little bustle, and the light from the lodge -suddenly shut out, sprang forward to the knight's assistance. The door -was then soon locked; and, speaking through it, Sir William Arden -said, "Now, saucy porter, I shall keep you there for a couple of -hours, for attempting to snatch the keys from me." - -The man was heard remonstrating and bellowing in the inside; but, -without paying any attention, Sir William hastened back towards the -stables, leaving the keys hanging in the doorway of the porter's -tower. In the stable court, as it was called, he found Chartley -himself, with eight companions; and a brief consultation ensued as to -the next step. - -"How many have you got under lock and key in the stable?" demanded -Arden. - -"Five at least," replied Chartley. - -"Then there are five in your lodging and at the gate," said Arden, -"That makes ten in all. Allowing five for cooks and stragglers, we are -their superior in numbers, and a good deal their superior, I should -think, in the use of arms. Now let us go on. Hold back. Let that -fellow pass towards the kitchen." - -"Had we not better go by the great hall?" said Chartley, as soon as -one of the servants of the house had crossed the other side of the -court. "We can secure any men who may be there." - -"No, no," said Arden. "Leave all the management to me. I have promised -there shall be no bloodshed; and I do not want even to show any force, -unless it be needful. Let us go in by the back way, and up to the west -of the little hall. By that means we shall cut them off from the -chapel; and then, while you wait in the ante-room, to be ready in case -of need, I will go in and reason with the good lords." - -"But," said Chartley, "suppose they have gone to the chapel, already. -I see light in the window." - -"Then we must follow them," answered Arden. "But above all things, my -good lord, do not show yourself in the affair, if you can help it. You -may put yourself in great peril with the king, remember; whereas all -that Dickon, as I shall manage it, can say of me is, that I was -somewhat too zealous for his service. Do not come forward, at all -events, till you hear strife." - -"Well, well," answered Chartley; "that I may promise at least, Now on; -for there is no time to spare." - -Approaching quietly one of the many small doors which gave exit from -the great mass of the castle buildings into the courts around, the -whole party found before them a staircase, which, strange to say, was -broader and more easy of ascent than those communicating with either -of the two principal entrances. Treading as softly on the stone steps -as possible, they soon reached a wide landing-place, from one side of -which ran away a long corridor, passing over part of the staircase, -and guarded from it by an open screen of stonework, while on the other -side was a door; leading down by ten steps, to the entrance of the -chapel; and between the two appeared another door, opening into a -little ante-room, flanking the lesser or upper hall. - -Sir William Arden lifted the latch of the ante-chamber door, and -opened it gently, when immediately the voice of Lord Calverly was -heard, raised to a loud and angry tone, exclaiming, "Get you gone, -mistress, and tell her to come down this instant, or I will come and -fetch her. Tell not me that you cannot get admission or an answer. If -I come, it shall be to make a way for myself." - -"But it is not ten yet, my lord," said the sweet voice of Constance. -"You said you would give her till ten." - -"What matters five minutes?" cried the old lord, in the same sharp -tone. "But we will be to the letter, and so shall she. Let her know, -girl, if she is not here, in this hall, by the time the castle clock -chimes the last stroke of ten, I will come to fetch her, and drag her -to the altar by the wrists." - -Sir William Arden had held up his hand to those who were following -him, at the first sounds of the voices speaking; and the whole party -paused, some upon the stairs, and a few upon the landing. The next -moment, the door of the ante-room opened; and, coming with a slow -step, Constance appeared. She gave a slight start at seeing Arden and -the rest, where she least expected to meet them; but he quietly laid -his finger on his lip, and pointed along the corridor to the stone -screen. Constance made a mute gesture, as if deprecating violence, and -then passed on with a quickened step. - -Arden did not immediately enter the ante-room, but waited till the -light foot-fall of Constance had died away; and then, once more giving -his directions to his followers, and bestowing another word of caution -upon Chartley, he walked straight through the ante-room into the hall. -When he entered, Lord Calverly was walking up and down one side of the -long chamber, and Lord Fulmer doing the same in the other. The face of -each was grave and moody; and they seemed not very well pleased with -each other, or with anything that was taking place around them. Both -however started on seeing Sir William Arden; and, in a tone of bitter -civility, Lord Calverly addressed him, approaching quite close as he -did so. - -"I had thought, Sir William, you had retired to rest," he said, "and -was wishing you tranquil slumbers. Allow me to say that, at the -present moment, I and Lord Fulmer are busy with matters of much -personal importance." - -"Good faith, my lord," replied Sir William Arden, in a light tone, "I -heard below that there were jovial things to take place in the castle, -and I wish to share in the festivities of my honoured host." - -"I know not what you mean, sir," said Lord Calverly, with a cold -stare; but Fulmer at once advanced to the knight, saying-- - -"There is a meaning in your tone, sir, which must be explained. It -seems to me, that you are determined to force your uninvited society -upon us, at a moment when we desire to be alone." - -"Exactly, my good lord," replied Arden. "I am precisely in that very -unpleasant predicament. You will see how disagreeable it must be to -me; and therefore I trust you will make it as smooth to me as -possible." - -"Why, marry, what is all this?" exclaimed Lord Calverly. - -"If so painful, what brings you here?" demanded Fulmer sternly. - -"I will tell you, young man," answered Arden. "I have learned, that it -is the intention of this good lord to bestow on you the hand--" - -"From whom, from whom?" shouted Lord Calverly. - -"From an exceedingly fat priest, amongst others," replied Arden, -smiling; "but the news is all over the castle. If your lordship cannot -keep your own secrets, depend upon it, others will not." - -"But what affair is this of yours, Sir William?" said Fulmer, with a -sneer. "Are you an aspirant to the lady's hand?" - -"Not at present," answered Arden. "But the case is this, without -farther words, my lords. I find that this marriage is against the -lady's will, and that threats are held out to her of using force--" - -"Oh, she has made her complaint to you, has she?" said Lord Calverly. - -"No, she has not," replied Arden; "but hearing it by accident, and -having a great regard for your two lordships, I wished, as a knight -and a gentleman of some experience and repute, to remonstrate with -you, and show you what danger and disgrace to your fair names you -bring upon yourselves by such proceedings--proceedings unworthy of -English noblemen and Christian men." - -He spoke so calmly, and in such a quiet reasoning tone, that neither -Fulmer nor Lord Calverly suspected for one moment that he intended to -proceed to any other measure than mere remonstrance. That they thought -bold enough; and Fulmer replied, "We understand from whence your -inspiration comes, Sir William; and I only wonder the prompter does -not appear himself." - -"That I took care of," said Lord Calverly. "I am not one, my young -friend, to neglect any precautions. I think I have some experience in -dealing with men, and some foresight too as to all that is likely to -occur. It is not easy to catch me sleeping. Now, Sir William Arden, -One word for all. I am not inclined to be wanting in hospitality or -courtesy towards a guest; but I must desire to be left to the -management of my affairs, without either your presence or your -counsel;" and he made a low bow. - -Arden paused for a moment, as if in expectation that he would add -something more; and the old nobleman, who had with difficulty bridled -his anger so far, went on in a tone far from cool, to say; "I would -lack no courtesy; but, if you do not go, you must be removed." - -"I have but little more to say," replied Arden, with imperturbable -coolness, which contrasted somewhat strangely with his vehemence upon -minor occasions; "but that little is important. This marriage must not -go forward." - -"But I say it must!" exclaimed Lord Calverly, calling down a bitter -curse upon his own head if he did not carry it through; and then, -striding to the door which led to the staircase from the great hall, -he shouted aloud, "Ho! Two of you come up here; here is something -unpleasant that must be removed." - -Steps were immediately heard running up; and Arden retreated towards -the door by which he had entered, slowly and calmly, but with a smile -upon his countenance. - -"My good lord," he said; "you do not know what you do;" and, opening -the door of the ante-room, he said aloud, "Here, I want some of you, -my friends. Two stand on the landing, and keep that way against all -comers." - -"Take hold of him and carry him away to his own rooms," exclaimed Lord -Calverly, at the same moment, addressing two of his attendants, who -had entered; but when he turned and saw the number of armed men -pouring in, he stood as one aghast; and Arden whispered to one of his -followers, "secure that door," pointing to the one on the opposite -side of the hall. - -The man to whom he spoke, and two others, darted across, and had -reached the middle of the hall, before the servants of the castle -seemed to comprehend what was going on. - -"Keep the door, keep the door!" cried Lord Fulmer; and they both -immediately ran towards it. It was a race which of the parties should -reach it first; and indeed neither won; but, just as the first of the -old lord's servants was stretching forth his hand to seize the door, -which was partly open, a stout arm applied a blow to the side of his -head, which made him stagger back, and then measure his length upon -the floor. The next instant the door was closed and locked; and Sir -William Arden remained the master of both entrances. - -"I beg your lordship's pardon," he said, "for taking somewhat decided -means to obtain a fair hearing, which it seems you were not inclined -to give me." - -"Are we to consider ourselves prisoners, sir?" exclaimed the old -nobleman, confounded and dismayed. "If so, I must appeal to the throne -against such violence." - -"If you, or Lord Fulmer either, can venture to do so, pray do," -replied Arden, calmly. "But I too, my lord, am a prudent man, as well -as yourself; and it is difficult to catch me sleeping. I said that -this marriage must not go forward; and I now ask you both, my lords, -whether you have the king's consent to this proceeding? In a word, -whether it was not your intention to act in this business in direct -disobedience to his authority?" - -Fulmer gazed down upon the ground, and bit his lip; but Lord Calverly -demanded fiercely-- - -"Who told you that, sir? I protest against such an interference in any -man." - -"It matters not who told me," replied Arden. "Suffice it that I am -well prepared to justify what I do. Now, my lord, after what I have -said, you dare not proceed to the act which you were about to -commit--an act which would have only led you and Lord Fulmer here to -long imprisonment, if not worse. If you give up all notion of such -rashness, if you pledge me your word, that you will make no attempt to -carry through this marriage, till the king's full consent has been -obtained, and if this noble lord agrees to ride forward immediately -upon the errand with which he is charged by the king, I will restore -to you the command of your own house, which I have been obliged to -take possession of in his grace's service. Moreover, I will refrain -from reporting to the king the intended disobedience which I have been -in time to frustrate. If not, I shall feel it my painful duty to put -you both under arrest, and convey you myself to York." - -It is hardly possible to describe the sensations produced by these -words, and the calm and quiet tone in which they were uttered, upon -the minds of his two hearers. Lord Calverly was astounded and -terrified; for, like almost all very vain and pompous men, he was very -easily depressed by difficulties and dangers. It only required to -humble his vanity sufficiently, to make it a very submissive and -patient quality, however vehement and pugnacious it might be under a -slight mortification. To find himself suddenly deprived of all power -in his own house, and treated with an air of authority and reproof, by -a guest who ventured to back his pretensions by the redoubted name of -Richard, was quite sufficient to silence him, although his wrath still -swelled and fretted within. - -Lord Fulmer, for his part, heard the words which had just been spoken, -not only in sullen silence, but with much surprise. He well knew that, -hurried on by passion, he had placed himself in a position of very -great danger, and that the act of disobedience he had committed, if it -reached Richard's ears, was likely to be followed by the ruin of all -his hopes, and long imprisonment. But how Sir William Arden had so -rapidly received tidings of the commands the king had laid upon him, -he could not divine, forgetting entirely that the necessity of his -departure on the following morning had been mentioned to Iola in the -presence of Constance. At the same time, he felt that to remain would -be ruin, and that resistance was vain. His only hope, therefore, was -to escape the present danger, trusting that some of the many changing -events of the day would afford him better opportunities, or at all -events give him at some future time the means of revenge. - -All Lord Calverly thought of, after he had in some degree mastered his -anger and surprise, was how to retract, in as dignified a manner as -possible; and he had just begun to reply, "Well, sir, if I am a -prisoner in my own house, I have nothing to do but to submit;" but the -voice of Constance was heard, speaking eagerly to some one without. - -A moment or two after, she entered with a face still somewhat pale, -and a look of much anxiety, saying:-- - -"I am sorry to tell you, my lord, that my cousin is not to be found. -After knocking for some time at her door, I and her girl Susan chanced -to see the key lying on the table of the ante-room; but we used it -only to find her chamber vacant." - -"Heaven and earth!" exclaimed Lord Calverly; "this is too much. Where -can the foolish child have concealed herself? From the castle she -could not go, for the gates were all locked at sunset. Let us search -for her immediately." - -"Ay, let us search," exclaimed Lord Fulmer, with a look of great -anxiety. "If any evil have happened, I shall never forgive myself." - -Sir William Arden was somewhat alarmed; but, although Constance's face -expressed anxiety, it struck him there was less terror in it than -might have been expected. - -"Ay, noble lord," he said, "we always regret wrong actions when it is -too late; but, before I permit either of you to quit this hall, we -must have a clear understanding. Do you accept the conditions I -mentioned?" - -"Assuredly," replied Lord Calverly; "I must search for this poor child -at once." - -"And you, Lord Fulmer?" said Arden. - -"I do," replied Fulmer, bowing his head. - -"Then I commend you to your horse's back at once," said Arden; "and I -will have the honour of waiting upon you to the stables. Otherwise, -perchance, you might find neither men nor horses free to serve you." - -"This is hard," said Fulmer. - -"It may be no better, I fear," replied Arden. "Excuse me, for a -moment, my lords, while I speak with the guard without;" and, turning -to the men at the door, he added, "Suffer no one to quit the hall, but -the lady, till I return." - -He was not long absent; but, many had been the questions poured forth -in the mean time, upon Constance, who was replying to one of them, -when Sir William re-entered the room. - -"I cannot even divine, my dear uncle," she said; "she communicated not -her intention to me in any shape; and I certainly expected to find her -in her own chamber, when I returned at the end of the hour, during -which she wished to be left in solitude." - -Arden seemed not to notice the words, though he heard them, but -informing Lord Fulmer that he was ready to accompany him, prepared to -lead the way. - -At that moment, however, one of the servants whom Lord Calverly had -called into the hall, and who had of necessity remained there with the -rest, remarked, in a dull and sullen voice:-- - -"There is somebody ringing the great bell at the gate. 'Tis the third -time it has rung. The old porter must be sleeping, not to open." - -"He has no power," said Sir William Arden. "I have the keys. Go you," -he continued, speaking to one of his own followers--"open the wicket; -but give no admission to any large party. Two or three you may suffer -to enter." - -Lord Calverly was apparently about to say something; but the veteran -soldier waved his hand to the man, as a signal to depart; and he -retired at once, knowing no authority but that of his own master. - -During his absence, which lasted some two or three minutes, the whole -party stood in unpleasant silence. Lord Calverly, indeed, ventured a -word in a low tone to Fulmer, but obtained no reply; and some one came -and tried the door on the side of the principal staircase, leading to -the great hall; but it was locked and guarded. The eyes of Constance -sought the face of Arden; but neither spoke. - -At length the servant returned; but he was not alone. Close upon his -steps came a man dressed as an ordinary post or courier of the court, -who gazed round the scene presented to him in some surprise. - -"Which is Sir William Arden?" he said, somewhat to the dismay both of -Fulmer and the old lord. - -"I am he," replied Arden, advancing with a mind relieved; for, though -resolved, at all hazards, to carry through what he had undertaken; yet -he had some fear that his first plans might be in a degree -disconcerted by the appearance of the royal messenger. - -The post immediately handed him a letter, sealed with the broad seal, -and Arden received it as an ordinary occurrence, with admirable -command of his countenance. - -"By your leave, my lords," he said, and, approaching one of the -sconces, he opened the paper and read. The cover seemed to contain two -other letters, and after having perused his own, he turned towards -Lord Calverly, presenting one of them to him, and saying: - -"I presume, my lord, this is an order to deliver up the ward of my -cousin, Lord Chartley, to myself." - -But there was more in the epistle to the old nobleman, and when he -read it his face turned very pale. - -"Now, sir," said Arden, addressing Lord Fulmer, "I will conduct you to -your horse, and then immediately perform, the commands of his grace -the king." - -"In the name of all the saints, my dear child," said Lord Calverly, as -soon as Arden and Fulmer had quitted the room; "what is to be done, if -we cannot find your cousin?" - -"Nay, I know not," answered Constance, "but I trust we shall find her -well and safe, or at all events hear from her, if she should have -taken refuge elsewhere. In the midst of all this confusion, it is very -possible she may have slipped out of the castle unperceived." - -Constance, it would appear, did not choose her means of consolation -well; for her words had anything but a soothing effect upon her uncle, -who walked up and down for two or three minutes, in a state of great -agitation, making sundry addresses to saints and the virgin, which -savoured much more of impatience than piety. At length, returning to -his niece's side, as she remained standing in the midst, of the room, -he whispered:-- - -"We must find her, we must find her, Constance. This is the most -unfortunate out of all. You don't know what is in this letter;" and he -struck it with his fingers. "The king here tells me to send her back -to the abbey immediately, and that he makes the abbess, my good -sister, responsible for her safeguard, till he can decide in the -matter of her marriage himself. He must have had some inkling of this -rash mad-headed boy's purpose." - -"That is unfortunate, indeed," answered Constance, thoughtfully. - -"Unfortunate!" exclaimed her uncle. "It is ruin, child. Why, I risk -not only imprisonment but confiscation. I cannot comply with the -king's commands; nor can I explain to him why I do not comply, without -telling him all that has occurred to-night. It is ruin, I tell you. -Here, come aside, that knave of a courier seems listening to us." - -"You had better tell Sir William Arden your difficulty," replied -Constance, when they had got to the farther end of the hall. "Though -his manner is rough and blunt, yet sure I am he has a kind heart." - -"Let us search well for her first," said her uncle. "Perhaps we may -find her in the castle after all. I wish the knight would return. What -a long time he stays. Hark!" he continued, after a pause of a minute -or two. "There is the sound of horses' feet in the court-yard. Now, -thank God, Fulmer is gone; a good riddance, on my life, for he had -well nigh persuaded me to that which might have been my destruction." - -Only a short interval took place before Arden returned; and, after -giving some orders in a low tone to his own men, he advanced towards -Lord Calverly, holding out his hand and saying-- - -"I beseech you, my good lord, to let all angry feeling pass away -between us. Believe me, I have saved you from a great danger, into -which you were persuaded to run, by your regard for the young nobleman -who is just gone, contrary to the dictates of your own wisdom and -experience." - -Lord Calverly took his hand, and shook it heartily, saying-- - -"That is very true, Sir William, that is very true. I never liked the -business, and was hard to persuade; but, having once decided, of -course I could not suffer myself to be thwarted by a mere child. Pray, -now, let us seek for her. I am ready, God knows, to obey the king in -everything," he added in a loud tone, for the messenger's ears. - -"Well, we will seek for her at once," said Arden. "But first let us -restore the house to its propriety." - -The followers of Chartley and of Arden himself were dismissed to their -several occupations; the servants of Lord Calverly permitted to depart -from the hall; the refreshment of the king's post was provided for; -and the search was commenced, Chartley having been called to aid, at -the suggestion of his cousin. Every nook and corner of the extensive -building was examined, but Iola was not to be found. - - - - -CHAPTER XXXVI. - - -The search was over. It had proved, as I have said, vain; and Lord -Calverly was in a state of bewildered confusion of mind, which it was -impossible to describe. Obey the king's commands by placing Iola once -more in the abbey of St. Clare of Atherston, he could not do. To -explain to Richard the cause of his disobedience was only to accuse -himself of a worse fault of the same kind. To frame any excuse, real -or false, for his conduct, he knew not how; and his whole anxiety -seemed to be to pursue and overtake the fugitive, wherever she might -have taken refuge. Several of the servants were examined, in order to -obtain some clue to the course which she had followed; but no one -could afford any. Her waiting-woman, Susan, was as much grieved, -distressed, and anxious as the rest. The porter declared that he had -closed every postern before he was shut into his lodging by Sir -William Arden; and, at first, the old lord was inclined to suppose -that Iola had taken advantage of the keys having been left in the -door, to make her escape, while Arden was remonstrating with him in -the hall. But, on the one hand, the porter declared that the keys had -never been removed from the place where Arden had left them till they -were taken to give admission to the king's messenger; and the man who -had been shut up with him confirmed the story. They had both watched -anxiously, they said, and must have heard the sound of the keys being -withdrawn, had such a thing occurred. Sir William's attendant, too, -who had given admission to the royal courier, stated that he had found -the gates both locked and barred. The girl, Susan, too, showed that -she had remained in her mistress's antechamber for nearly three -quarters of an hour immediately before she was missed; and every -servant stated positively that they had neither seen the lady, nor any -figure, which could have been hers disguised, attempt to pass out of -the castle. - -"Nothing can, at all events, be done till morning," said Sir William -Arden, "and therefore, my good lord, I will wish you good night. Let -us take counsel with our pillows." - -His suggestion was followed, Chartley accompanying his friend with -less anxiety apparent on his countenance than the occasion might -perhaps have justified. Before Arden went, he contrived to say a few -words to Constance, unheard by the rest; but Constance shook her head, -replying, "I know nought, indeed, and can give no information; but yet -I am inclined to believe that dear Iola is in no danger, wherever she -is. She used to roam far and wide, where I should have been afraid to -venture; and I feel sure she is safe." Then dropping her voice quite -to a whisper, she added, "Pray, tell Lord Chartley so." - -A few minutes after, Chartley and his friend sat together in the -chamber of the former; and Arden eyed him with an enquiring and yet a -smiling glance. - -"Know you aught of this escapade, Signor Chartley?" he said, at -length. "Methinks you seem not so heart-wrung and fear-stricken as -might have been expected, at the unaccountable disappearance of your -lady love." - -"Nevertheless, I am anxious," replied Chartley, "for I know not where -she is, nor what has become of her, any more than the rest. But, at -the same time, I have this consolation, that I believe her escape must -have been planned, in case of need, long before; for she boasted to me -that she could pass through the walls of this castle like a spirit. I -therefore argue, that we have every reason to think her safe; and, to -tell the truth, I should not much regret her having put herself beyond -the power of her excellent wise uncle, were I not here in ward, and -unable to do as I could wish." - -"What would you do, if you were out of the old earl's clutches?" -demanded Arden, with a smile. - -"I would set off by day-break to seek her--" replied Chartley, "by -day-break to-morrow morning." - -"And having found her?" asked Arden. - -Chartley smiled, and looked thoughtfully down on the table, for a -moment or two, answering at length, "Don't you think, Arden, that if -one going a journey found a peculiarly beautiful flower growing near -his path, he would be inclined to gather it at once, not waiting till -he came back again, lest it should be withered or plucked in the mean -time. One would not mind a few scratches either, to get at it." - -"Come, come, no metaphors," said Arden. "You know, I am dull as to all -fanciful things, my good lord, so tell me plainly what you would do." - -"Well, then," answered Chartley, "if I found her, as you suppose, I -should be strangely tempted to ask her to get upon the back of an -ambling mule or light-footed Barbary jennet, and make a pilgrimage -with me to some shrines of great repute in Britanny or France." - -"Hymen's for one of them, I suppose," said Arden, laughing; "ah, -Chartley, you are but a pagan after all. But you forget such things -might be dangerous. When you came back, your head would be in a -tottering condition, or, at the best, your dearly beloved liberty of -roaming might be confined within the four walls of a small room." - -"I might stay away, till heads were more sure upon men's shoulders, -and liberties were not the sport of a tyrant's caprice," replied -Chartley, more gravely than was his wont. "This state of things cannot -last for ever, Arden. The world is getting sick of it. There are -strange rumours abroad. Our poor queen Ann is ill; and men much -suspect she will not recover. Few indeed do under the treatment she is -likely to have; and Richard, they say, is very anxious for heirs." - -"So, so," cried Arden, "sets the wind there? Why, methought a Chartley -would never draw his sword against the house of York." - -"Assuredly," replied Chartley, "so long as the lawful heirs of that -house sat upon the throne. But there is such a thing, Arden, as two -streams mingling--such a thing as two factions, long rivals arrayed in -bloody opposition, finding a bond of fellowship, and uniting to -overthrow one who has wronged and slaughtered both. - -"I have heard something of this," said Arden, thoughtfully. "The -rightful heir of York is Elizabeth of York; and, were such a thing -possible, that Harry of Richmond should graft the red rose on the -white rose stem, there is many a man beside yourself who would gladly -couch a lance in his support." - -Chartley gazed at him for a moment thoughtfully, and then answered. -"He has sworn it, Arden, in the cathedral church of Rennes. I know I -can trust you; and I tell you he has sworn it. The queen Elizabeth, -too, consents, I am informed; and men but wait for the propitious -hour." - -"You have heard from Richmond!" said Arden, bluffly. "Your Arab -brought you letters from the earl." - -"No," answered Chartley; "but I have heard from Oxford. He is already -in arms in Picardy; and Calais had better close fast her gates." - -"Well, well," said Arden. "Love and war, 'tis strange how well these -two dissimilar dogs hunt in couples. We were talking of love just now, -and lo, she runs straight up to the side of war. So, if you were free, -you would ride off with this sweet pretty Iola, and wait for better -times, tending hens and sowing turnips round a cottage door. Upon my -life, I see no reason why you should not, even as the matter is." - -"But I am in ward," said Chartley. "My pledge has been given to this -good old Lord Calverly." - -"That is all at an end," replied Arden, with a smile, drawing some -papers from his pocket. "I have kept you all this time in ignorance, -to win your secrets from you. But now know, my lord, that you are in -ward to me, and not Lord Calverly. Here is the king's letter to me, -and there is one from his gentle grace for you, probably announcing -the same thing. The truth is, I fancy, this rash Lord Fulmer has let -Richard into too many secrets; and the king is determined to keep his -hold of the young lover, by delaying his marriage, while he at the -same time separates you from her, to ensure that she is not won by a -rival. How he happened to fix upon me as your jailer is a marvel." - -While he had thus spoke, Chartley had opened the king's letter, and -was reading it eagerly. - -"Wrong, Arden, wrong!" he exclaimed, with a joyous look, "wrong, and -yet right in some things--read, read!" - -Arden took the letter and ran over the contents with that sort of -rapid humming tone which renders some words distinct, while others are -slurred over. Every now and then he added a comment in his own -peculiar way, not always in the most polite or reverent language; for -those were not times of great refinement, and right names were often -applied to things which we now veil both in word and seeming. - -"'To our trusty and well beloved'--well, well--so he wrote to -Buckingham--'our intentions towards you were more gentle than the need -of example required to be apparent'--doubtless, his intentions are -always gentle; but his needs are numerous--'somewhat exceeded in -strictness the spirit of our injunctions'--Poor Lord Calverly, mighty -strict indeed when he lets his house be mastered by a prisoner and a -handful of guests!--'transferred you therefore in ward to your cousin, -Sir William Arden, who will better comprehend our intentions. Nor do -we purpose here to shut up our benevolence towards you, but to enlarge -it according to your merits and services, even in that which you most -desire'--What does the hypocrite mean? He will have your head off ere -he has done--'In the mean time, as you incurred displeasure by -rashness, so win fair fortune and your heart's content by prudence; -for having learned your wishes from a rival and an enemy, we give you -an earnest of our good will, in disappointing his desires, with the -thought of gratifying yours, according to your deserving, in good -season. So, commending you to the protection of God, the Blessed -Virgin, and St. Paul'--what a number of them!--'we bid you, et -cetera.'" - -Arden laid down the letter, and fell into deep thought. Chartley spoke -to him, but he did not seem to hear. Chartley gazed at him, and -laughed in the joyous hopefulness of youth; but Arden took no notice. -Chartley shook him by the arm; but his cousin merely said in a sharp -tone-- - -"Let me think, idle boy!--Let me think. Would you be chained to the -collar of a boar, to be dragged with him, wallowing through the blood -of the dogs, which will soon be let loose to hunt him to the death?" - -"I know not what you mean," exclaimed the young nobleman; "have you -gone mad, Arden?" - -"It is you who are mad, if you see not the object of this letter," -replied Arden. "Hope to you--suspense to Fulmer--both for the same -purpose. To keep you his. He holds out a prize to the eyes of both, to -be won by a race of services and submissions to himself. Will you -enter upon this course, Chartley? Will you, even for the hand of Iola, -become the labouring straining serf of him who slew your royal -master's children, slaughtered innocent babes, spilt the blood of his -own house? See through his artful policy--shut not your eyes to his -purpose--calculate the price you must pay for his support of your -suit--judge accurately whether, when all is done, the hypocrite will -keep the spirit of his promise; and then choose your path." - -"I saw it not in that light," replied Chartley, at once brought down -to a graver mood, "and yet it may be as you say." - -"May be? It is!" replied Arden, "by St. Peter, that dear little girl -was right and wise, to fly away and not be made a decoy to lead the -game into his net! She knew it not indeed; but that matters not. 'Tis -well that she is gone. Her foolish uncle must be sent to court, to -confess his sins and excuse them as he may. It is the best course for -him, the best result for us. Time--it is time we want." - -"But I want something more, Arden," said. Chartley. "I want -liberty--freedom to act as I will. Then my course is soon decided. By -Heaven, I have a thousand minds to rise upon my ward master, bind him, -and carry him with me--whither he would be right willing to go, _under -compulsion_." - -"No, Chartley, no!" answered Arden. "I will not put a colouring upon -my actions that they merit not. I will not seem to do by force that -which I am afraid to do with good will and openly." - -"Then what will you do? How will you act?" demanded Chartley, somewhat -puzzled. - -"'Tis a case of difficulty," replied Arden, musing. "I must not accept -a charge and then violate a trust; I must not shelter a breach of -faith under an equivocation." - -"But if you refuse to ward me," answered Chartley, "'Tis certain I -shall be placed in stricter hands." - -"I will not refuse," replied his cousin. "I know this king, and I will -accept the ward for a time; but I will write to him and tell him, that -it shall be for but one month, as I could never manage you long in my -life--which Heaven knows is true enough. If it last longer I renounce -it. I know well how it will be. If he sees you tranquil and quiet, he -may perhaps let you have full liberty then, thinking that he has power -over you by the hope of this fair lady's hand. If not, he will write -to me at the month's end, to keep you still in ward, which I will not -do for an hour. Meanwhile, we shall have time for all preparations, to -find the lady, and seek both the means of flight and means of living -afar. Then, have with you, Chartley, and good fortune speed us both!" - -This arrangement was not altogether pleasing to his more ardent and -impatient companion. - -"But hark you, Arden," he said, "long ere the time you speak of, -things may have occurred which will require instant decision. -Everything is hurrying here to a close; and, before a month be over, -much may take place which will render it necessary to act at once." - -"I do not think it," answered Arden, deliberately. "The march of great -events is generally slow. Sometimes, indeed, it happens that an -earthquake comes and shatters all; but more frequently the changes of -the world are like the changes of the year, spring, summer, autumn, -winter; cloud, sunshine, wind, rain, thunderstorm, sunshine once more, -and then the same course round." - -"But I tell you, Arden, Oxford is already in arms," replied Chartley, -"and marching towards Calais, to take it from the usurper, that -Richmond is promised aid from France, and that troops are already -gathering at Rouen." - -"Rain drops before the storm," answered Arden; "but, before you can do -aught, you must find your sweet lady Iola, gain her consent to your -plans, make all your preparations for escape; and this will all take -some time, let me tell you." - -"What if we find her speedily," said Chartley, "and see, moreover, -that she is likely to fall into the king's hands, and to be held out, -as you yourself have said, as a prize to the most serviceable." - -"Good faith, then you must act as you think fit," said Arden. "I shall -guard you, and your seven or eight servants, with myself and my own -three. Richard cannot expect that I should augment my household to -pleasure him, in a matter that he puts upon me without my wish. Should -need be, you must lay your own plans and execute them. Only let me not -know them, at least, till the month is over. But methinks, my good -lord and cousin, your impatience somewhat miscalculates the future. A -month is a short time for all I have mentioned." - -"Ay, but I go fast," answered Chartley. "To-morrow we will away to -seek this fair lady, and never give the search up till we have found -her. You despatch this old lord as fast as may be to York; for, if he -should stay and find her out, we might have strife or difficulty." - -"See how he takes the tone of command already," exclaimed Arden, -laughing; "but do you know, Signor Chartley, that I have a strange -hankering for this great castle of Chidlow, and do not love to leave -it yet. There are others to be served as well as you." - -"How so?" demanded Chartley, in surprise; "why should you wish to stay -at Chidlow?" - -"Because there is a little maiden there, with sweet soft eyes," -replied Arden, "who though, God wot, somewhat given to pensive mood, -smiles brightly when I talk to her; and methinks it will not be very -easy to tear myself away." - -"What, Constance?" exclaimed Chartley. "You, Arden, you! You thinking -of love and matrimony! Why, I have given you over to dull celibacy for -the last ten years. You were wont to think no eyes so bright as a -spear's point, to feel no love for aught but a suit of Milan steel, to -warm to the sound of cannon sooner than the lute, and to think the -blast of the trumpet sweeter than any lady's tongue. Now, farewell to -all hopes of your inheritance! Lack-a-day, what a splendid fortune I -have missed by not watching you more closely! and we shall soon have -half a score of little Ardens, with round curly heads, playing with -your rusty greaves, and calling you Papa." - -"Go on. I am laughter proof," answered Arden. "Let him laugh who wins. -Of one thing, at least, I am certain, if she gives me her hand, 'tis -with free will and all her heart. No ambition in a case where the -bridegroom is a simple knight, no ambition where she does not know him -to possess a single angel in the world, except herself. But tell me, -Chartley, where have been your eyes?" - -"Looking into Iola's, I fancy," answered Chartley. "'Tis true, I saw -you sit and talk with her upon the battlements the other day, and -heard you laugh, and saw you smile; but I thought, good sooth, 'twas -mere good-nature that kept you lingering behind with Constance, in -order that Iola and I might have free leave to pour forth our hearts -to each other." - -"No, no," answered Arden. "I am very good-natured and generous, I -know; but in this instance, like the rest of the world, I was -good-natured--with an object. 'Tis true," he continued, in a graver -tone, "there is a great difference between her age and mine--some four -and twenty years, and I shall wither while she will still bloom. -Perhaps you think her too young, Chartley, to be taken as my wife; but -I am not yet old enough to adopt her as my daughter; and one or the -other she shall be, if she will; for I will not leave that dear girl -to the sad choice of vowing herself to a convent, or remaining -dependent upon her foolish uncle's bounty." - -Chartley laid his hand affectionately upon his cousin's, saying, "Far -from thinking her too young to be your wife, Arden--far from thinking -you should not make her such, I believe and trust that you will find -happiness with her, such as you have never known before. I have seen -the honeysuckle in the woods, twining itself sweetly round the trees. -It chooses generally a stout and sturdy trunk, of mature growth, and -there it winds itself up, loading the strong branches with its -nectar-dropping blossoms. Sometimes, however, I have seen it climb up -a light sapling, till they mingled leaves and flowers together, in one -heavy mass; but then, there being no steadiness in either, they have -been blown to and fro with every wind, till a fiercer blast of the -tempest has broken or rooted up the frail prop; and the honeysuckle -has been laid low with that it clung to." - -"Well, I have no cause to make the objection if she do not," answered -Arden. "She has wound herself round my heart, I know not how; but I -have concealed nothing from her: She knows my birth-day as well as I -do myself; and she says she does not care a groat"--Chartley -smiled--"no, not exactly a groat," continued Arden, "but what she -said, was this, that when one loved any body, the heart never stopped -to ask whether he was rich or poor, old or young; that where -calculation entered, love was not. Upon my life, I believe what she -said is true; for I know I began to make love to her without any -calculation at all, and not much thinking of what I was about. Is that -the usual way, Chartley?" - -"Precisely!" answered his cousin. - -"Well, then, let us go to bed," said Arden; "for I shall rouse this -old lord by cock-crow, and send him off, as soon as I can, to York." - - - - -CHAPTER XXXVII. - - -To write a really good play is undoubtedly a much more difficult -thing, and the achievement a much more glorious one, than to write a -good romance; and yet the dramatist has some very great advantages -over the romance writer. He is conventionally permitted to skip over -all dull details, which the romance-writer is obliged to furnish. The -prominent points alone are those with which he deals; the burden of -the rest is cast upon nimble-footed imagination, who, supplies in a -moment, from her own inexhaustible stores, all that is requisite to -complete the tale, with much richer and more brilliant materials than -pen or tongue can afford. If some reference to events going on at a -distance from the scene be necessary in words, they may be as brief as -the writer wills; and all that is needful to describe the approach of -dangers, which have been long preparing, and the effect upon him to -whom the tale is told, is comprised in two brief sentences: - - - _Stanley_--Richmond is on the seas. - _King Richard_--There let him sink--and be the seas on him, - White-livered runagate! - - -This is quite enough; and although I have heard the admirable critics -object to the conceit approaching to a pun, expressed in the second -line, as unnatural, when placed in the mouth of a man agitated by -violent passions, as in the case of Richard, yet that man must have -been a very poor observer of human nature, who does not know that the -expression of strong passion is full of conceits. It seems as if -ordinary words and ordinary forms fail before the energies of passion, -and that recourse is had to language often obscure, often. -extravagant, sometimes ludicrous, and always full of conceits. - -However that may be, it is needful for me to give somewhat more at -length the course of events which Shakspeare summed up but briefly. I -will be rapid too, and pretend, in this short chapter, to give but a -sketch of events, which took several months in action. - -Weary men sleep not always sound; and, in less than four hours after -the earl of Richmond had laid his head upon his pillow at Angers, he -again came forth from his chamber, and went down to that large public -room, which in those days, and for many years after, was to be found -in every inn, both in France and England. When he entered, the room -was tenanted by only one person, for the dinner hour was passed; but -that person advanced to meet him at once, with a low reverence. "Ha, -Sir Christopher Urswick," said the earl; "right glad am I to see you. -The passport you obtained for me from the court of France served me -right well this morning at the city gates. By my faith, the pursuers -were close upon my heels. But why did you not come yourself?" - -"Because I should have been in prison at Nantes by this time, and -could serve you better in France," replied Urswick. "There are many of -your friends waiting for you, sir, with anxious expectation, at the -court of Langeais; and Madame de Beaujeu, the regent of the kingdom, -is prepared to receive you as your dignity requires." - -"Then am I expected?" asked Richmond. - -"Many things are foreseen, which we can hardly say are expected," -answered Urswick; "but all knew that, within a month, you must be -either in France or England." - -Richmond paused in thought, and then asked: "How far is it hence to -Langeais?" - -"Barely twenty leagues, my lord," replied the other; "an easy ride of -two short days." - -"And what is now the state of France?" asked Richmond, fixing his keen -inquiring eyes upon him. - -"Still sadly troubled," replied Urswick. "The contest for the guard of -the king's person and the rule of the kingdom still goes on. Orleans, -Dunois, and the old constable, on the one side, pull hard against -Madame de Beaujeu, her husband, and the rest of the court, on the -other; and there is nothing but cabals, dissensions, and from time to -time outbreaks; but the princess has more wit than the whole of France -put together; and she will break through all their plots, and confound -their intrigues. Still the state is very much troubled, and a new -revolt is expected every day." - -"Then we can pause, and rest at Angers," said Richmond, gravely. "If I -have many friends at the court of France, I have been obliged to leave -many at the court of Britanny. Their safety must be considered at -once. I will write to the good duke, before I break bread. I pray you, -in the mean time, seek me a trusty messenger. Let him be a Frenchman, -for there might be danger to any other." - -Prompt to execute his determinations, the earl at once addressed a -letter to the duke of Britanny, explaining the causes of his flight, -and pointing out to the weak but amiable prince the stain which his -minister had brought upon his name, by engaging to give up a guest, -who trusted his hospitality, to a bitter enemy. - -He urged not, it is true, the punishment of Landais; but he entreated -that his friends, the companions of his exile, might be permitted to -join him in France. - -This letter had all the effect he could have desired. Free permission -to go or stay was granted to every Englishman at the Breton court; and -the rage and shame of the duke, at the misuse of his power by Landais, -joined with the vehement accusations brought against that upstart -minister by the Breton nobles, induced the prince to give him up to -justice, reserving to himself indeed the right to pardon him, if he -should be condemned by a court of justice. The proceedings, however, -were too speedy for the slow duke. Landais was condemned; and he was -hung also, while the signature to his pardon was still wet. - -Three days after his arrival at Angers, the earl of Richmond set out -for Langeais, and early on the second day reached the gates of that -fine old château, in the great saloon of which may still be seen the -sculptured memorials of joys and ceremonies long past, which ushered -in the reign of the active and enterprising Charles VIII. His -reception was kind and cordial; but, as Urswick had informed him, -trouble still reigned at the court of France; and some weeks elapsed -before the earl could obtain anything like a promise of assistance -from Madame de Beaujeu. Then, however, she engaged to furnish a small -and insignificant force, to form merely the nucleus of an army to be -raised in England. Two thousand men alone was all that France offered; -but with this insufficient army Richmond determined to take the field, -and named Rouen, where he had many friends, as the meeting-place of -his troops. The assistance in money was not greater than the -assistance in men; and the hard condition of leaving hostages for the -payment of all sums advanced was inforced by the shrewd regent of -France, whose whole object and expectation, apparently, was, by -stirring up civil wars in England, to prevent Richard from pressing -any of those claims which he had against the neighbouring sovereign. - -She had to deal, indeed, with one perhaps as shrewd as herself; and, -although Richmond could not refuse the demand, he took advantage of it -to free himself of a person whose lightness and incapacity rendered -him little serviceable as an ally, and whose sincerity and good faith -were somewhat more than doubtful. Dorset was easily persuaded to avoid -the perils of an enterprise, the result of which no one could foresee, -by remaining as one of the hostages in Paris, with another gentleman -whom the earl felt he could do very well without; and Richmond -departed for Rouen, resolved to strike for life or death, a throne or -a grave, with whatever means fortune might furnish. - -A number of gallant English gentlemen surrounded the future king. But -they were in almost all cases without followers, and but scantily -provided with money. It was therefore not upon their unaided arms that -Richmond could depend for a crown; and, as he rode into the fine old -town of Rouen, a shade of despondency came over his countenance, never -very bright and cheerful. But at the door of the house which had been -prepared for him he was met by the boy Pierre la Brousse, who had been -sent on to announce his coming, and now sprang forward to hold his -stirrup. - -"The good bishop is waiting within, my lord," said the boy eagerly, as -Richmond dismounted. "He has news for you from England--" and then, -giving a glance at the earl's face, he added--"Good news, my lord." - -"You seem much in his confidence," said Richmond, coldly. "Does he -tell you whether his news is good or bad?" - -"His face does," replied the boy. "I watch men's faces." - -Richmond smiled and walked on, guided by Pierre, to the room where -Morton sat. For a moment the prelate did not seem to hear the opening -door, but remained, with the light of the lamp well nigh absorbed by -the black ceiling and the dark arras, poring over some papers on the -table before him. The next instant, however, he raised his eyes as -Richmond advanced, and, starting up, exclaimed-- - -"I beg your pardon, my lord the king, I did not hear you enter." - -"The king?" said Richmond. "You forget, good father, I am as yet no -king." - -"But shall be so within a month," replied Morton, laying his hand on -the papers, "if there be but one word true in ten of all that is -written in these letters. But you are weary, you are thirsty. Let me -order some refreshment, while supper is preparing." - -"I am weary of disappointments, thirsty for hope," replied Richmond. -"Give me your tidings, before I drink or rest. Now, boy, retire;" and -he seated himself by the side of the chair which Morton had been -occupying. - -"This, my lord, from the gallant earl of Northumberland," said Morton, -handing him one letter. "See what comfortable assurances he gives of -the north." - -Richmond read, and looked well satisfied, but said nothing; and then -Morton handed him another, saying-- - -"This from Sir Walter Herbert." - -"But poor comfort, that," observed Richmond. "He bids you be assured -that, whatever appearances he may put on, he will stand neuter. This -is cold, right reverend father." - -"In some cases, neutrality is better than favour," replied Morton. -"Herbert is Richard's right hand in Wales. If his right hand fail him, -his left will serve him but little. Read this from Rice ap Thomas." - -"Ay, this is more cheering," exclaimed Richmond, his face brightening. -"A thousand men! Why 'tis half the force we bring hence. But think -you, reverend friend, that he can keep his word?" - -"That he has the will, doubt not," replied the bishop of Ely, "and his -power must be shorn indeed, if he double not the number promised. Now -mark, my noble prince, what is said by this good Captain Savage--a -leader of no mean renown, and a man whose bare word will outweigh the -oaths of other men. Listen, 'Wales waits for his coming, as those -who watch for the dawn. She feels he is her son, and will give him the -welcome of a parent.' Tudor will meet here many kinsmen, more friends -than kinsmen, more soldiers than friends, more servants than all; for -those will serve him with their hearts and their purses, their prayers -and their means, who have not strength to draw a sword nor power to -raise a force. Let him land nowhere but in Wales." - -"And so say I," exclaimed Richmond; "my first footsteps upon British -shore shall be in the land of my fathers. I will go forth to seek the -crown, which is my right, from my own native home; and with such -promises as these, such friendship as yours, so good a cause, so base -an enemy, I will march on even with my little band, assured of -victory, and shame the petty aid of miserly France, by winning -gloriously, or leave my bones to pay the miserable debt, and let them -go to England to fetch them back. Now, my good lord bishop, for our -preparations; for I will not tarry longer by a day than I can help, on -this ungenerous soil." - -"Nay, my noble prince, take some refreshment," said Morton; "the -proper hour for supper has long passed, and I doubt much that you -tarried on the road for either food or rest." - -"Ha! supper--I had forgot," said Richmond; "well, I suppose, man must -eat. So we will sup, and call my brave companions in to aid us. Then -will we discuss our after measures, hear all their counsel, and -adopt--our own." - - - - -CHAPTER XXXVIII. - - -Gaps are sometimes pleasant things. With what interest the eye traces -a gap in a deep wood; how it roams up the glade, marking a tree -out-standing here, a clump of bushes there, the rounded swell of the -turf, the little sinking dell! And now imagination revels in the void, -filling up every breach in the line with a continuation of its own, -seeing the fancied woodman's hut peeping out from behind this mass of -foliage, peopling the coverts with dun deer, and raising up forms of -lads and lasses to wander through the chequered shade. - -I must have a break in the history of those upon whom the principal -interest of the tale has been concentrated, and can only furnish a few -brief lines, to guide the reader's imagination aright. We left them -in the spring of the year, when skies were soft, though warm, when the -shower mingled with the sunshine, when the leaf was in its green -infancy upon the branch, and all nature was rejoicing as if filled -with the sweet early hopes of youth. It was now summer, ardent summer; -the sky was full of golden light, the woods afforded deep shade; the -corn was turning yellow on the ground; and the cattle lay in the hot -noonday, chewing the cud, under the shadows of the trees. The -longed-for summer had come. It was fruition. - -Lord Calverly had followed the advice he had received, and presented -himself to the king to make what excuse he best could. He dared not -indeed tell the whole truth, and merely said, that his niece, -unwilling to fulfil the contract with Lord Fulmer, had fled he knew -not whither. Richard, however, divined more than he acknowledged; but -he dealt leniently with him. There was no fine, no confiscation, no -actual imprisonment. He merely required that the old nobleman should -remain constantly at the court till his niece reappeared, after having -satisfied himself that Lord Chartley was not cognizant of her flight -nor aware of her place of refuge. - -Suspicion and policy were busy in the king's mind at that hour; for -reports reached him, from his numerous spies in France and Britanny, -which showed that storms were gathering on the horizon; and signs, not -to be mistaken, told him of discontent and disaffection amongst the -people of his own land, while phantoms of shadowy conspiracies flitted -across the scene before his eyes, and left him in doubt and -apprehension of every man. All those whom he most feared and least -trusted he kept at the court under his own eye, believing that the -terror of the axe would secure that obedience which he could not -obtain from love and zeal. - -Lord Fulmer, indeed, remained in Dorsetshire, in command of a small -body of forces; but he was kept in check, and his fidelity secured by -the presence of a much larger power upon the verge of Somerset and -Devon, commanded by one in whom Richard could confide. Never failing -in dissimulation, the king noticed not in any way what he suspected or -what he knew of the young lord's conduct; but every messenger which -went to Dorsetshire carried commendations and hopes, and many an -expression of regret that the Lady Iola St. Leger had not been found, -so that his marriage must be necessarily delayed. - -It might be supposed, that if Richard thought precautions so necessary -in these instances, he would have exercised still greater vigilance in -the case of Lord Chartley. Such, however, was not the case. The -paradoxes of the human mind are part of history; but so common is it -for the most jealous, watchful, and suspicious, in every rank and -relation of life, to place the utmost confidence in those who are -destined to frustrate all their plans and purposes, and disappoint all -their expectations, that it is no marvel even so keen and untrusting a -man as Richard should feel no apprehensions, with regard to either -Chartley or Arden, though he was hateful to them both, and yet be -suspicious of Lord Calverly and Fulmer, who might perchance disobey -his orders, and refuse reverence to his authority in matters of small -moment, where their own passions were concerned, but who never -entertained a thought of abandoning the king's party, to which they -had attached themselves from the first. Cunning often overreaches -itself, often sees a distant object, and overlooks that lying at its -feet. But there were many circumstances which rendered Richard -careless in the case of Chartley. He looked upon him as a rash, -heedless, light-spirited young man, too open and too frank, either to -be sought by or to seek other conspirators. He had always been firmly -attached to the house of York, had been brought up from his youth -under its guardianship, had inherited, as it were, animosity to the -house of Lancaster, had taken no part with the new nobility, as the -relations of Edward's queen were called, and had, in his boyhood. -treated with some haughty contumely one of the upstart favourites of -the queen's brother, which caused him to be sent from court to travel -in foreign lands. These things had not been forgotten by Richard; and -he argued--"It is neither with Richmond nor with Dorset that this gay -young lord would intrigue, if he intrigued at all; and, so long as -this fair maid of St. Leger remains to be won, I have him sure. 'Tis -well she hides herself; for were she at the court, or in her uncle's -house, I might have to decide too soon. I doubt that moody -discontented Fulmer; but of this light-spirited youth I am secure." - -The month, during which Sir William Arden had agreed to hold his noble -cousin in ward, passed away. Richard heard of them travelling here, -travelling there, roaming from this village to that, hovering -sometimes round Chidlow, sometimes round Atherston, lodging at -Tamworth, at Leicester, at Hinckley; and he easily divined that -Chartley was seeking eagerly for Iola. The multitude of affairs -pressing upon his attention gave him but little time to think of minor -things; and he suffered the period to lapse, without taking any -farther precaution for the young lord's custody. It was recalled to -his memory some days afterwards by Catesby; and the king mused over -the suggestion for some moments; but at length he said in a somewhat -doubtful tone-- - -"No. Let it be. But this girl must be heard of, Catesby. I must know -where she is, lest this youth find out the hidden treasure, and snatch -at it without our consent. There must be people who know her habits -and her haunts. Let them be enquired after, and in the mean time write -me a letter to Lord Chartley, requiring him to use every diligence to -seek for the Lady Iola, and bring her to the court, when he shall be -rewarded as his heart could desire. But mark you, Catesby, mark you. -Put in 'If the lady's heart go with it.' These young fools, we must -talk to them about hearts, or they will not believe. Methinks hearts -wear out about thirty, Catesby. Is it not so?" - -"Sometimes sooner; sire," answered Catesby, gravely. "But I will do -your bidding; and methinks the person most likely to know where the -lure lies hid is the lady Constance, her cousin. The old lord sent her -back to the abbey of St. Clare; but I will despatch some one thither, -skilled in ladies' interrogatories, who will soon extract from her all -that she knows." - -"So be it," said the king, and there the conversation dropped. - - - - -CHAPTER XXXIX. - - -It was in the month of July, often a wet and rainy month, in this good -climate of England; but the rain had exhausted itself, and sunshine -had come back again, bright and clear. The world looked fresh and -beautiful, as if a new spring had come; and light and pleasant air -tempered the heat of the atmosphere; yet the door of the woodman was -shut and bolted; and, in the middle of the summer, a large fire burned -upon the hearth. With his leathern jerkin cast off, his powerful and -sinewy arm bare, and a heavy hammer in his hand, he stood by the fire -turning, from time to time, a piece of iron which lay amidst the -ashes. Then, approaching a sort of moveable anvil, which stood in the -midst of the floor, he adjusted upon it some plates of iron, fastened -closely together by rivets, one of which however was wanting. Next, -bringing the red hot iron from the fire, he passed it through the two -holes where the lost rivet had been, and with heavy blows of the -hammer fastened the whole together, while his large hound stood by and -contemplated his proceedings with curious eyes. Then throwing down the -iron plates by the side of some others very similar, he took up a -bright corslet, grooved and inlaid with gold tracery, and gazed upon -it with a thoughtful and a care-worn look. Through the hard iron, on -the right side, was a hole, of the breadth of three fingers, and all -round it the crimson cloth, which lined the corslet, was stained of a -deeper hue. - -"Ay, Ban," said the woodman, speaking to the dog, "those are the holes -which let life out! How is it to be mended? Nay, I will let it be--why -should I care? 'Twere a lucky lance that found twice the same -entrance;" and he cast down the corslet on the floor. - -The dog turned round towards the door, and growled; and the next -instant some one raised the latch, and then knocked for admission. In -haste, but yet with no agitation, the woodman lifted the various -pieces of armour which cumbered the ground, removed them to the inner -room, and locked the door. In the mean time the knock was repeated -twice or thrice, and the dog bayed loud. The woodman drew the bolts, -and threw back the door suddenly; but the only figure which presented -itself, was that of Sam, the piper. - -"Why, what have you been about, Master Boyd?" he said. "You were -hammering so loud but now, I could not make you hear." - -"Mending my tools," said Boyd, with a grim smile. "But what want you, -Sam? Have you brought me any news?" - -"Ay, plenty," answered the piper. "First, let me put down my bag, and -give me a draught of beer, if it be but thin penny ale, for I am -thirsty, and my mouth is full of dust." - -"It has often been full of other things since day-break," said the -woodman; "but thou shalt have the beer. Sit you down there, outside -the door, and I will bring it you." - -The piper sat down on the rude seat at the door; and, while the -woodman departed "on hospitable thoughts intent," the hound came and -laid its head upon the lap of the wandering musician. But Sam, as -curious as any of his class, was seized with a strong desire to see -what the woodman had been really doing, and was rising to look in. The -moment he attempted to move, however, the dog, though he knew him -well, began to growl, and thus kept him there, as if he had been -placed on guard, till Boyd's return. - -"Well, now for your tidings then," said Boyd, when the man had drunk. - -"Which will you have first?" demanded the piper, "news from the court, -the castle, or the field?" - -"It matters not," said Boyd. "Shake them out of the bag, Sam, as they -come." - -"Well then, from the court," said Sam. "It should have the place of -honour, though there is but little honour in it. Well, the king is -mighty wroth to hear that the Earl of Richmond has put to sea with a -fleet and army to invade England. He laughed, they say, when he was -told thereof; and, when he laughs, 'tis sure that he is angry." - -"But is Richmond on the sea?" asked the woodman. "I doubt it." - -"Nay, I speak but what men tell me," answered Sam. "They say he is on -the sea with a great power. Many men refuse to pay the benevolence -too, and declare it is an exaction against the law. All this makes -Richard angry; and he rages at trifles like a mad bear, when the dogs -have got him by the muzzle." - -"He'll need a bear-ward, soon," said Boyd; "and he may get one." - -"Men say he is insane," continued Sam, "and that his brain has never -been right since his son died at Middleham. However, the queen's -funeral was as glorious as could be; and Richard wept a basin full, I -am told. But yet men have cried more over a raw onion, and never felt -it much at heart." - -"Well, well, what is all this to me?" asked Boyd, impatiently. "The -queen is dead and buried. God rest her soul! It had little rest here, -since she married the murderer of her husband. The king might love -her, or might not, may grieve for her, or not. What is all that to me? -She was not my wife;" and, seating himself on the bench, he bent his -eyes thoughtfully upon the ground. - -"Well then, my court news is told," said Sam. "Now for my country -gossip. Know you, good man Boyd, that the Lord Chartley, whom you and -I had to do with a good many months ago, when they burned the houses -on the abbey green, is back at Tamworth?" - -"Ay, I know," replied Boyd. "He has been here thrice, hovering about -like a fly round a lamp." - -"He's a good youth," said the piper. "He promised me one gold angel, -and he gave me two. He has a right loving remembrance of that night -too; for I never see him but I get a silver remembrance thereof, so I -am rich now, Master Boyd. Then, there's his good cousin, Sir William -Arden. He hangs fondly about here too, and is, most days, at the grate -of the convent." - -"Ay, what does he there?" asked Boyd. - -"Why, he talks to the Lady Constance by the hour," answered the piper; -"and they all say it will be a match, although, if he be not well -stricken in years, he has been well stricken in wars. He's a good man -too, and bountiful of silver groats; but his hair is getting mottled -with grey, so that he is not so good a man as the young lord, whose -hair is all brown. - - 'Oh, give to me the bonny brown hair, - The teeth so white, and the skin so fair, - The lightsome step, and the dainty air, - Of my sweet Meg of the May.' - -"No, no. I like Chartley best; and I shall make a fortune by him too, -before I've done. 'Tis the first luck that ever befel me, and I shall -open my cap to catch it." - -"Then, will you let it all run out in drink?" said Boyd. "But, how may -this luck come to you?" - -"Why, he has promised me," said the piper, "to fill me a gill stoup -with gold pieces, if I can find out for him where liggs the pretty -lass who watched with him in the forest through one live-long night -not long ago. The Lady Iola, they call her. I know not if you know -such a one, woodman; but he has asked high and asked low, asked rich -and asked poor, and employed all sorts of cunning men to know where -the lady is, so that, in sheer despair, he has betaken himself to a -piper--and the piper is the man for his money, for he has found her -out." - -The woodman started at his words; and, turning upon him with a stern -brow, he said-- - -"And thou hast told him?" - -The piper paused for a moment, and then laughed. - -"No," he said, at length; "I have not told him yet. I thought that I -would first speak with a certain person, who has sometimes odd -thoughts of his own, and who, though a rough man at times, has often -been kind to me, in days of trouble. When I meddle, I like to know -what I am meddling with; and though I be a poor wretch, who rarely -knows from one day to another where I shall get meat, or, what is more -important still, where I shall get drink; yet, to say truth, I would -rather lose a gill stoup full of gold pieces than make mischief which -I cannot mend. I therefore determined to speak first of all with this -person, who knows a good deal of the matter, and who, having hidden, -can find. Am I not wise?" - -"Thou art better than wise," said the woodman, laying his strong hand -upon his shoulder. "Thou art good, as this world goes." - -The woodman paused thoughtfully for a few moments, and then said-- - -"Not yet. You must not tell him yet. There is a task for her to -perform, a scene for her to pass through, before there can be -daylight. Said'st thou the earl of Richmond was on the sea?" - -"'Tis so confidently reported," replied the other; "notices of great -preparation at Harfleur, and of troops collecting at Rouen, have -reached the court, and are noised about the city; and the rumour is, -that the good earl has sailed, intending to land in Dorsetshire or -Devon." - -"Then he must fight or fail at once?" said the woodman; "and he must -be advised. Yet, doubtless, the tale is false; and at all events, it -is too late to stop him. Let me think. To-day is the twenty-eighth of -July, is it not?" - -"Ay," answered the piper; "'tis so by my calendar." - -But the woodman seemed not to hear him, and went on in the same -meditating tone, saying-- - -"It is a memorable day--ay, it is a memorable day. Once more in arms -Hark you, my friend, will you be my messenger?" - -"What, to the earl of Richmond?" cried Sam, with a start. - -"Who said the earl of Richmond, fool?" asked Boyd, sternly. "No, to a -lady." - -"Ay, right willing," answered the piper; "if I judge who the lady is; -for she was always kind and good to me." - -"Let not your wit run before your knowledge," said the woodman, "or it -will leave truth behind. I send you to a lady, whom you have seen, but -with whom you never spoke--" - -He suddenly broke off, and seemed to let his mind ramble to other -things. - -"If Richmond has spread the sail," he said, "he may have touched land -ere now. But Richard is unprepared. He has no force in the field, no -muster called, that I can hear of. There must be an error, and there -may yet be time enough. Do you remember a lady who, with a train of -maidens and grooms, passed through the forest several weeks ago?" - -"Ay, right well," answered the piper. "She offered at the shrine of -St. Clare, looked through all the church, examined the monuments, and -read the books where strangers' names are written; and, moreover, she -gave bountiful alms, of which I had my share. Then she went to -Atherston, thence to Tamworth, and to many another place besides. She -was at the court too." - -"And is now gone to Tewksbury," said the woodman. "It is to her I -intend to send you." - -"'Tis a far journey, good man Boyd," replied the piper; "and -princesses are too high for me. They say she was a princess. You had -better send some one more quick of limbs than I am, and softer of -speech." - -"I can spare none," replied the woodman; "and 'tis because thou art -not fitted to draw a sword or charge a pike that I send thee. As for -speed, thou shalt have means to make four legs supply a cure for thine -own lameness. Canst thou ride a horse?" - -"Draw a sword or charge a pike!" exclaimed Sam. "Art thou going to -make war, woodman?" - -"May not the abbey need defence in these troublous times?" demanded -Boyd. "Know you not, that I am bailiff now, as well as head woodman? -Canst thou ride a horse, I say?" - -"That can I," answered the man. "In my young days I rode the wildest. -Would I had wild or tame to bear me now, for I hobble painfully." - -"Well, then, thou shalt have one," said Boyd; "and, when thy journey -is done, keep him for thy pains. But mark me, thou shalt promise, on -thy soul and conscience, to drink nought but water till thou hast -delivered my message----" - -"'Tis a hard oath," said the piper. "I took one like it once before; -and I was forced for a fortnight after to double the pint stoup, to -make up for lost time. Well, well, I will take it." - -"That is not all," answered Boyd. "Thou shalt promise me, moreover, to -utter no word regarding whom the message comes from, neither to -mention my name, describe my person, nor tell my abode; but simply to -seek that lady, and tell her that the fate of the person for whom she -has so long enquired may still be heard of, and that you can lead her -to one who can give her all the tidings she desires." - -"And bring her hither?" demanded Sam. - -"No," answered the woodman. "First, let me be assured, if you really -know where the Lady Iola is. Tell me how you discovered her, and -where. Do not hesitate; for it must be told." - -"Nay, I hesitate not," answered the piper, "for thou wert there too; -so I can little harm her. One night, as I was passing through the wood -which lies between Atherston and Alanstoke--you know the wood right -well, not the first coppice, but the bigger wood beyond--I heard a -sound of singing. There were many voices; and, as I love music, I -crept up, when in the little glade, beside the stream that runs into -the Tamworth water, I saw some thirty people, men and women too, -singing right sweetly. I know not well what songs they were--assuredly -not the canticles of the church--but yet they seemed pure and holy; -for ever and anon they praised God's name, and gave him honour and -glory. They prayed too, but in the English tongue; and I could not -help thinking it were better if all men did the same in the land. Sure -I am, if they did so, they would know better what they say than when -they pray in Latin; and, though people, no doubt, would call the -meeting Lollardy, I liked it well. Then, when they parted company, I -saw the Lady Iola, for she was one, walk away between two men. One was -about your height, good man Boyd. The other, I knew by his long white -beard--the good old franklin, Elias Ames. There was a lad followed, to -see that no one watched, I fancy; and he seemed to me wondrous like -the son of the gardener at the abbey. But I tricked his vigilance, and -followed round by the other path, till I saw the Lady Iola and the -good old franklin go into his pretty wooden house, with the woodbine -over the door, while the others went their way. Next morning, soon -after day-break too, I saw the lady peep forth from the window, -through the honeysuckles, looking, to my mind, far sweeter than they." - -"Well, then," said the woodman, after meditating for a moment, "go to -the lady I have mentioned; tell her what I have said, but not who said -it; and lead her to that house with as few followers as may be. There -she will hear more." - -"But how shall I get admittance to her?" demanded Sam. "Why, those -knaves, those grooms of hers, will look me all over from head to foot, -and then drive me from the door. How should a poor piper get speech of -a princess?" - -"You shall have the means," answered Boyd. "Wait here for a minute;" -and, retiring once more into his cottage, he was a short time absent. -When he returned, he bore a piece of written paper in hand, and gave -it to his messenger, saying. "There, take that to Sir William -Stanley's bailiff at Atherston. He will help to send you on the way." - -"A horse----believe him," said the piper, reading. "Does that mean he -is to believe a horse?" - -"No," replied the woodman, gravely, "to believe you, and give you a -horse. I knew not that you could read. Now look here," he continued, -giving the man a large gold cross, of what is called the Greek form, -set with five sardonix stones, and attached to two very beautifully -wrought chains, terminating in the heads of serpents. It seemed of -very ancient workmanship, but was so splendid as greatly to excite the -admiration of the poor piper. - -"There, cease gazing!" said the woodman; "but take that cross, and put -it up carefully, where it will be seen by no one, lest you should be -robbed and murdered for its sake. When you meet with the lady's -train--you will find her either in Tewksbury or some of the -neighbouring villages--ask to speak with her chief woman. Tell her to -take the cross to her mistress, and ask if she will purchase it. There -is money for your journey too. Methinks she will soon see you, when -she looks upon that cross." - -"But what if she do not?" asked Sam. "What then?" - -"Return," replied the woodman, apparently greatly moved; and, without -further words, he was re-entering his cottage, when the piper called -after him aloud, saying: - -"Hark ye, hark ye, yet a minute, Master Boyd. There are two words to -the bargain, remember. If I undertake your errand, you must not spoil -mine." - -"Thine, man!" exclaimed the woodman, turning upon him sharply. "What -is thine?" - -"If I understood you rightly," said Sam, with a tone of deference, -"you said, or meant to say, that the secret of this dear lady's abode -was not to be told to the young lord as yet, but that it might be told -by and by. Now, I must be the teller; for I made the discovery." - -"I understand thee," said the woodman. "Fear not, thou shalt have the -gill measure of gold pieces, which is what thou carest about; and no -one shall take it from thee. Now, quick upon thy way; for time -presses, and events are hurrying forward which admit of no delay." - - - - -CHAPTER XL. - - -Midsummer days dawn early; and, even in that class of life where it is -not customary to pass the greater part of night in study or amusement, -it rarely happens that the rising sun finds many ready to rise with -him. The hour at which the labours of the abbey garden begun, in -summer time, was five o'clock. But long ere that hour had arrived, on -an early day of August, the door of one of the cottages on the abbey -green was opened, and a stout good-looking young man came forth, -taking great care to make his exit without noise. He looked around him -too, in the grey twilight; for the air was still thickened with the -shades of night. But every window had up its shutters of rude -boarding; and he passed along upon his way without fear. His step was -light, his countenance frank and good-humoured; and, though his -clothes were very coarse, they were good and clean, betokening a -labourer of the better class. He had soon crossed the green, passed -between the houses which had been left standing at the time of the -fire, and those which were in course of reconstruction; and then, -following the road down the hill, he reached the bank of the stream, -along which the troops had marched when coming to search for doctor -Morton. He did not, however, pursue the road towards Coleshill; but, -turning sharp away to the left, along a path through some meadows -watered by a small rivulet, he kept, between himself and the abbey, a -row of tall osiers, which screened the path from the hamlet. At the -distance of about half a mile was a coppice of some four or five -hundred acres; and from beyond that might be seen, with an interval of -two or three undulating fields, a much more extensive wood, though it -did not deserve the name of a forest. Towards the edge of the latter -the young man bent his steps, following still the little path, which -seemed rarely beaten by the busy tread of men's feet; for the green -blades of grass, though somewhat pressed down and crushed, by no means -suffered the soil to appear. - -Indeed, it was a wild and solitary scene, with just sufficient -cultivation visible to render the loneliness more sensible. The young -man, however, seemed to know all the paths right well; for though they -sometimes branched to the one hand, and sometimes to the other, and -sometimes could hardly be traced amongst the grass, yet he walked on -steadily, without any doubt or hesitation, and at length entered the -wood, near a spot where stood a tall red post. - -He had nearly a mile farther to go, after this point was reached; and -his course led him through many a wild glade and bowery avenue, till -at length he came to a spot highly cultivated, which seemed to have -been reclaimed from the wood. Immediately in front of him, and at the -other side of this patch of cultivated ground, was a neat wooden -house, of one story in height, but with glass windows, and even two -chimneys; great rarities in those days. The whole front was covered -with wild honeysuckle, rich in its unceasing blossoms; and every -window, as well as the door, looked like a pleasant bower. Approaching -with a light step, through a number of rose bushes, which were planted -in front of the house, the young man knocked hard at the door with his -knuckles; and in a moment after it was opened, and he went in. - -He did not see or remark, however, that he had been followed on his -track. When he first came forth from the house upon the green, there -had been protruded, beyond the angle of a new building on the opposite -side, a face very nearly black in hue, and surmounted by a turban. It -was instantly withdrawn; but when the young man hurried down towards -the stream, a figure, clad almost altogether in white, glided from -behind the new houses; and bending almost to the ground, in a position -which it would be difficult for European limbs to assume, the swarthy -watcher marked with a keen and flashing eye the course the youth took, -and, the moment he disappeared behind the osiers, darted down with the -speed of lightning, leaped a low enclosure, went straight through the -little rivulet, though it was more than knee-deep, and followed it -along its course, keeping the opposite bank to that which was pursued -by the person he was watching. When he had come within about ten yards -of the end of the row of osiers, he paused, and, bending his head, -listened attentively. A footfall met his ear. It was upon soft green -turf; but yet he heard it; and he remained perfectly still and -motionless for a minute or two, then waded through the rivulet once -more, and creeping gently in amongst the willows, gazed eagerly up the -side of the hill. The young man's figure was there before him, at -about fifty yards distance; and from that sheltered spot the other -watched him nearly to the edge of the wood. As soon as he disappeared, -his pursuer crept softly out, and, bending low, hurried up to the -slope where the figure had been lost to his eyes. - -There was a gentle dip in the ground at that point; but when the Arab -lifted his head, and gazed around, nothing was to be seen but the -green branches of the wood, about a couple of hundred yards in -advance, and three small paths, separating a few feet from where he -stood, and then leading amongst the trees at points considerably -distant from each other. Instantly, however, the Arab knelt down upon -the ground, and seemed to examine the grass upon the path, with a keen -and searching eye, and on his hands and knees advanced slowly to where -the point of separation came. There he paused, scrutinized that to the -right, and that to the left, and then that in the middle, following it -on, in the same position, for several yards. Then, starting on his -feet, he bounded forward along it like a deer, and entered the wood. -There the ground was sandy; and though the little paths were many and -intricate, a long line of foot prints guided him on aright till he -reached the little cultivated farm, just at the very moment the young -man was entering the house. - -Drawing back at once, the Arab concealed himself amongst the tangled -bushes, and slowly and quietly made an aperture, by pulling off the -leaves, so as to have the door of the building full in his sight. Then -kneeling down, with his arms crossed upon his chest, he kept his eyes, -motionless and hardly winking, upon the front of the house, for well -nigh twenty minutes. At the end of that time, the door opened, and the -young man came forth again, with what seemed a written paper in his -hand; and, behind him, the watcher saw a fair and well-remembered -face. The door was shut immediately again; and Ibn Ayoub bent himself -down, till he was completely covered by the bushes. A moment or two -after, the son of the abbey gardener passed by the place of the Arab's -concealment, and as soon as there had been time for him to make some -progress on his homeward way, Ibn Ayoub rose and followed slowly. - -Some four or five hours later in the day, Chartley sat in the small -chamber of an inn, with his head resting upon his hand, and his eyes -bent gloomily down. It was not a usual mood with him; but -disappointment after disappointment will sink the lightest heart. A -man feels a feather no weight, but yet he may be smothered with many. - -"There is Arden," he thought, as he heard the sound of horses' feet -below; "and he is happy. All consenting, all rejoicing, to think that -a fair penniless girl has won the heart of one of the richest and -noblest men in England; while I--as careless to the full of money or -state as he, am made wretched because this sweet Iola is an heiress. -Curse on this wealth! Would there were none of it; we should all be -happier then. But am I envious? That is not right. Well, well, I -cannot help it. He must not see it, however. Well, Arden, what news? -You have of course seen Constance. Has she had any tidings?" - -"Yes, as before," said Arden; "a few words found on her table. 'Tell -him I am well, and safe,' so ran the writing; 'bid him be of good -heart. I will keep my word, and send if there be danger.' That was -all, but it was in her own writing. Methinks, Chartley, it were as -well to give up this pertinacious search. If you discover her, may it -not draw other eyes too upon her place of refuge? The king, depend -upon it, has us closely watched." - -"I do not think it," answered Chartley; "and, besides, how can I feel -easy, not knowing in what direction she may need my aid, When she does -need it? One mistake might ruin all our hopes. Oh, could I but -discover her, Arden, my tongue would soon find words to win her to -instant flight, as the only means of safety--as the only means of -insuring that she is not forced into this loathed marriage, and I am -not driven to cut Fulmer's throat or my own. Ha, Ibn Ayoub, where hast -thou been all day?" - -"On my lord's business," said the Arab, and was silent again, seating -himself quietly on the floor in the corner of the room; a custom which -he had whenever he wished to talk with his master privately. On these -occasions, nothing would induce him to speak openly; for, though a -slave, Ibn Ayoub had a will of his own end exercised it; and Chartley -well knew that it was in vain to bid him give his tidings, or ask his -question in Arden's presence. The good knight, however, soon retired -to his own chamber; and Chartley, fixing his eyes upon the Arab, who -remained perfectly silent, demanded what he had been doing. - -"Seeking that which is lost," replied the slave, rising and standing -before his master. - -"And hast thou found it?" asked Chartley, with his heart beating; for -there was an air of grave importance about the man, from which he, who -had known him well for some three or four years, argued a -consciousness of success. - -"I have, my lord," replied Ibn Ayoub. "Thou once didst pour balm into -my wounds, and hold cool water to my thirsty lips. I can now do the -same for thee. She whom thou hast lost is found. I heard thee -inquiring how it could be, that the lady sent letters to the other -lady. From what I had seen, at the castle of the old man, I guessed -the secret messenger, tracked him, and saw the lady's face. Now, thou -can'st go thither when thou wilt?" - -"Did she see thee, Ibn Ayoub?" demanded Chartley, adding, in the same -breath, "What did she say?" - -"She saw me not," replied the Arab. "I was hidden from her sight." - -Farther explanations ensued; but, as so often happens with every man -in the course of life, the first step thus taken in advance brought -its doubts and difficulties with it. But Chartley was impetuous, and -he felt it impossible to refrain. As to telling him the name of the -place where Iola had found refuge, or describing it, so that he -himself could judge exactly where it was, that the Arab could not do; -but he offered to guide his lord thither, whenever he pleased, -averring truly that he had noted every step of the way so well he -could make no mistake. - -"How far?" demanded Chartley. - -"One hour, with fleet horses," answered the man. - -"Well, then, to-morrow at daybreak, we will set out," replied his -master. "Say nought to any one, but have our horses prepared, and we -will away with the first ray of dawn." - -This course was followed; and, while Arden was still quietly sleeping -in his bed, Chartley and the Arab were on their way towards the house -of the old franklin, Elias Ames. With the certainty of a dog tracking -a deer, Ibn Ayoub led his master along every step of the way which the -gardener's son had pursued on the preceding day, except in as much as -he circled round the foot of the little rise on which the abbey stood, -and reached the end of the row of osiers by crossing the meadows. The -whole journey occupied as near as possible an hour; and at the end of -that time Chartley had the franklin's house, and the cultivated land -around it, before him. - -"There," said Ibn Ayoub, pointing with his hand. "She dwells there." - -"Well then," said Chartley, springing to the ground, "lead the horses -in amongst the trees, where they cannot be seen. I will give the -signal when I come out. She may be angry," he thought; "but women -little know, I believe, the eager impatience which a man who loves -truly feels to see again the lady of his heart, after a long absence." - -Thus saying, he walked along the path, and approached the house. The -windows were all closed with their wooden shutters; and he circled it -all round, without finding means of entrance. - -"It may alarm her, if I rouse the house suddenly," he thought; and, -retreating to the edge of the wood again, he remained watching for -about half an hour longer. Then the old man himself and a stout woman -servant came forth from the door, and took down the boards from the -windows; and when that was done, the good franklin walked away down a -little dell to the right, as if to superintend his own affairs for the -day. Chartley waited till he was gone; and by that time the woman had -re-entered the house; but he heard, or fancied he heard, the tones of -a sweet well-known voice speaking to her as she went in. He then -crossed the space between, hesitated for a moment as to whether he -should knock at the door or not, but at length laid his hand upon the -latch, and opened it without farther ceremony. - -The passages in the house formed a cross, dividing it into four equal -parts. Before him, all was vacant; and he could see clear through, by -a door at the back, into a little orchard behind; but he heard a -woman's voice speaking on the left, and now he was sure that she was -answered in the tones of Iola. Walking on then, he turned up the -passage on that side, and saw the woman servant coming forth from the -door of a room. She closed the door suddenly behind her, when she -beheld a man in the passage, and demanded sharply what he wanted. - -"I wish to speak with the lady in that room," replied Chartley. "When -she knows who it is, she will see me, I am sure." - -"Nonsense, nonsense, young man," replied the woman. "There is no lady -there. That is a store room." - -"Then your stores speak, my good woman," answered Chartley; "for I -heard a voice which I know right well talking to you." - -"Go away, go away," replied the woman, who, in the dark passage where -Chartley stood, could not see his dress, or judge of his station. "Go -away, or I will call in the men to make you." - -"All the men in the neighbourhood would not make me," answered -Chartley aloud. "At least, not till I see that lady. Tell her it is -Lord Chartley. If she bids me go, I will." - -The words had scarcely passed his lips, when the door through which -the woman had just passed was thrown open, light suddenly streamed -into the passage, and Iola herself ran out, exclaiming: "Chartley, is -that you? Nay, nay, you are rash indeed. You should not have come." - -"But, now I have come, you will not bid me go," said Chartley, taking -her hand, and kissing it. He put some restraint upon himself to keep -his lips from hers. - -"I cannot bid you go at once," answered Iola, bending her eyes down, -with the colour rising in her cheek; "but you must go soon, and not -return again, unless I send." - -"This is hard," answered Chartley; "but still, I shall not feel it so -much now I know where you are, and can hover round the neighbourhood, -like a dove over its nest, watching the treasure of its love." - -"Nay, Chartley, you are no dove," answered Iola, with a smile. "Open -that other door, Catherine, and watch well from the windows that no -one approaches. Come in hither, Chartley," she continued, as the woman -opened the door of a room opposite to that from which she had come. -"Here is my little hall. No grand reception room, yet sweet and -pleasant." - -A floor of dried and hard beaten clay, a low roof with all the rafters -shown, walls covered with mere whitewash, an unpolished oaken table, -and seats of wood, did not make the room seem less bright and sweet to -Chartley when Iola was there. She herself was dressed as a mere -cottage girl, and doubtless, when the mantle and hood, then worn in -the middle and lower ranks of life, were added, an unobserving eye -might hardly have recognized her; but she did not look less lovely to -the eyes of him who sat beside her. - -They were sweet, sweet moments which those two passed together; and, -perchance, it were hardly fair to tell all that they said and did. -Iola owned that it was sweet to see him once again, after so long a -separation and so much anxiety and care; but yet she told him -earnestly that he must not come again. - -"A few days now," she said, "must determine everything. There are -rumours busy in the land, Chartley, and which reach even my ears, that -there will be a fresh struggle for the throne. Let us not call the -eyes of the watchful king upon us, nor by any rash act run the risk of -falling into his power. I am told that he has spies in every -direction--even here; and I feel by no means sure that he has not -discovered more than we could wish. But one thing is certain, that, if -we wait till he finds himself assailed upon the throne, the hurry and -confusion which must prevail will give us opportunities which we do -not now possess. Then, Chartley, I will redeem my plighted word to -you, and, whenever I know the moment, will let you hear, and stake the -happiness of my life upon your faith and truth. But, even then, I must -make some conditions." - -Chartley mused; and Iola thought it was the word "conditions" which -surprised and made him thoughtful; but it was not so. - -"These reasonings on the passing events must have been prompted to -her," he thought. "They are not those of Iola herself." - -She went on, however, under the impression I have stated, and that in -a gayer tone, because she thought the stipulations she was going to -make were not likely to be refused. - -"My conditions are very hard ones," she said, "and may well plunge you -in a reverie, noble lord. They are that, when I am your wife, I may be -never asked, why I go not to confession--" - -She looked up in his face with a smile, and added: - -"The truth is, I have so many and such heinous sins, that I fear to -confess to the priest, lest I should not be able, or willing, to -perform the penance." - -Chartley laughed, saying: "You shall confess them all to me, dear one; -and I shall only thank Heaven that the secrets of your heart are told -to none but your husband and your God." - -"Oh, you are a heretic, Chartley!" cried Iola, with a gay and meaning -look in his face. "So men would think you, at least, if they heard -such words. Perhaps I may think differently. Moreover, you shall not -call me to account if I neglect some other ceremonial parts of what we -are taught to believe religious duties." - -Now she looked somewhat timidly at him, as if she did not know how far -she could venture to go; and Chartley's face had certainly become -graver than she had ever seen it. He pressed her hand tenderly between -his own, however, and said, "Dear Iola, I will covenant generally with -you, in no degree to meddle with such things. Your words may surprise -me and take me unaware; but this I promise, that I will interfere in -nought which concerns your religious belief; for I think I understand -you, though how all this has come about I cannot, and do not, divine. -One thing, however, my Iola, may be decided upon between us at once. -If you are searching for truth, let me search with you. Let our minds -be bent together to the same great object; but, at the same time, for -our own sakes, and each for the sake of the other, let us be careful -in all these matters; for I have already arrived at this conclusion, -that those who rule in every spiritual matter would shut out light -from us, and bar the way with the faggot, and the cord, and the sword, -against all who do seek for truth." - -A look of bright, almost angelic, joy had come upon Iola's countenance -as he spoke; and she answered in a low but solemn tone: - -"I have found it, Chartley--that truth which you mention." - -"Where?" asked Chartley, eagerly. - -"I will show you," she replied, "when, with my husband by my side, I -can pour out to him, pledged and plighted to me for ever, all the -thoughts of a heart which shall never be opened to any other mortal -being. Your words, Chartley, have been to me a blessing and an -assurance. Oh, God, I thank thee. My last fear and doubt are removed! -Now let us talk of other things; for you must go indeed. Tell me where -you will fix your abode for the next few days. Then I shall not need -to watch you; for I have been obliged to place spies upon you, in -order to know where to find you in case of need." - -"I will fix my quarters at Atherston," answered Chartley. "But are you -a little queen, that you have spies at will, and messengers over all -the land, with castle gates flying open before you, and means of -travelling invisible to human eyes. How was it, in Heaven's name, you -escaped from Chidlow castle; for I have heard nothing more than the -mere assurance which you sent Constance the day after, that you were -in safety." - -"I must not tell you all," answered Iola, gravely, "at least, not yet, -Chartley; but this much I may say, though it will sound very strange -to your ears, that there are many, very many--ay, thousands upon -thousands--of people in this land, all linked together by ties the -most sacred, who have been forced, by long and bitter persecutions, to -establish means of communicating with each other, and of aiding and -assisting each other in time of need. They are to be found in the -courts of princes, in the mart, the church, and the camp; but they are -known only to each other, and not always even that. They are innocent -of all offence, peaceable, blameless; yet, if they be discovered, -death is the punishment for the mere thoughts of the mind. I tell you -they are many, Chartley. They are increasing daily, in silence and in -secret; but the time will come, and that ere long, when their voice -will be heard, aloud and strong; and no man shall dare to bid it -cease. To them I owe much help. But now indeed we must part." - -The parting lasted well nigh as long as the interview; and, though it -had its pain, yet Chartley went with a happier heart, and with hope -and expectation once more burning as bright as ever. - - - - -CHAPTER XLI. - - -In a large room, of the convent of Black Nuns, near Tewksbury, with a -vaulted roof and one window at the farther end, seated at a small -table, and with an open parchment book upon it, was the Princess Mary -or Margaret of Scotland--for she is occasionally called in history by -both those names. She was diligently examining the pages of the -volume, in which seemed to be written a number of names, with comments -attached to them, in the margin, in a different coloured ink. On the -opposite side of the table stood an elderly man in the garb of a monk, -who remained without speaking, and with his eyes fixed calmly upon the -princess, apparently not at all comprehending the object of her -search. - -At length, when she had run her eye and her finger down the whole line -of names upon every page, pausing for a moment here and there, to -examine the observations attached to some particular entry, the -princess raised her eyes to the old man's face, saying-- - -"And these are all the men of note, you are sure, good father, who -fell at Tewksbury?" - -"All who are buried here," replied the monk. "There were some others, -whose names you will find, if you turn over two pages, who were borne -away to rest elsewhere. They were not many; for their friends did not -like to come forward and claim them, for fear of being compromised in -what was called the treason. So all that were not claimed were buried -here, and the rest, as I said, removed." - -Mary turned over to the page which he mentioned, and found some twelve -or fourteen other names, which, to her at least, were totally without -interest. She then closed the book, and gave it to the monk, saying "I -thank you much, good father. There is something to benefit your -convent, and pay masses for the souls of those who fell." - -The old man called down a blessing on her head, and walked slowly -along to the end of the old vaulted room, in order to depart, passing -a gay and sunny-looking girl as he did so. She advanced with a light -step from the door, towards the princess's chair, looking, as she went -by the old man in his sober grey gown, like spring by the side of -winter; and, when she came near the lady, she said, holding up a small -packet in her hand-- - -"Here is a curious thing, your highness, which has just been shown to -me by an extraordinary sort of man. He wishes you to buy it; and in -good truth it is not dear. I never saw anything more beautiful." - -"I am not in the mood for buying gewgaws, child," replied the -princess. "Well, show it to me, not that I shall purchase it; for of -that there is little chance." - -The young lady immediately advanced, and placed in her hand a golden -cross, ornamented with sardonix stones, Mary hardly looking at it till -she had received it fully, her mind being probably busy with what had -just been passing. When her eyes at length fixed on it, however, her -countenance underwent a strange and rapid change. Her cheek grew pale, -her beautiful eyes almost started from their sockets, and with a low -cry, as if of pain and surprise, she sank back into her chair. - -"Good Heaven, what is the matter, lady?" exclaimed the girl. "Your -highness is faint. Let me fly for help." - -But Mary waved her hand for silence, covered her eyes for a moment, -and then bending down her head over the cross, seemed to examine it -attentively. But the girl, who stood by her side, saw clearly tears -drop rapidly from her eyes upon the trinket. - -The moment after, the princess dashed the drops away, and, turning to -her attendant with a face full of eagerness, demanded: - -"Where is the man? Bring him hither instantly." - -The changes of expression in her countenance had been so -lightning-like, so rapid, that the girl stood for a moment like one -bewildered, but then, at an impatient gesture of the princess, hurried -from the room. At the end of a minute or two she returned, followed by -the piper, somewhat better clothed than usual, but still bearing -evident signs of his class, if not of his profession, about him. The -princess fixed her eyes upon his face, with a keen, penetrating, -inquiring look, as if she would have searched his soul, and then said, -turning to the girl who had accompanied him into the room: "Retire." - -Still, after the attendant was gone, Mary continued to gaze upon the -man before her in silence. It seemed as if she wished, before she -spoke, to read something of his nature and his character from his -looks. At length, in a low and tremulous but yet distinct voice, she -asked: - -"Where got you this cross?" - -"That I must not say, lady," replied the piper. "Are you the princess -Mary of Scotland?" - -"I am," she answered. "Must not say?--Good faith, but you must say! -This cross is mine; and I will know how you possessed yourself of it." - -"If you be the princess Mary of Scotland, and that cross be yours," -replied the piper, who was now quite sober, and had all his wits about -him, "I was bid to tell you that the fate of the person you seek for -may still be heard of near the abbey of St. Clare of Atherston. You -may keep the cross without payment, for in reality it was sent to you -as a token." - -"Keep it," cried the princess, pressing it to her bosom, "that I will! -I will never part with it more. Payment! Here, hold out your hand;" -and, half emptying her purse into it, she added: "Had you brought me a -king's crown, you had brought me nothing half so precious." Then, -leaning her brow upon her fair hands, she fell into a long deep train -of thought, which, perhaps, led her far away, to early days, and -scenes of youthful joy and happiness, while hope, and love, and -ignorance of ill, the guardian angels of youth's paradise, watched -round her path and round her bed. At length, She seemed to tear -herself away from the visions of memory; and looking up, she said, in -a slow and somewhat sad voice-- - -"St. Clare of Atherston. Ay, it was near there, at Atherston moor. -But, how can that be? I have watched, and enquired, and examined, and -seen with mine own eyes; and there was no trace." - -"I cannot tell your highness how it can be," replied the messenger; -"for I know little or nothing; and guesses are often bad guides. But -this I can do. I can lead you to one who can give you all the tidings -you desire." - -"Ha!" cried the princess, starting up. "Let us go. Let us go at once. I -will give instant orders." - -"Nay, sweet lady," answered the piper. "In good sooth, my horse must -have some time for rest; and my old bones are weary too; for I have -had scanty fare and long riding." - -"You shall have refreshment," said the princess. "I would not be -unmerciful, even in my impatience; but yet we must set out to-night. I -will not lay my head upon a pillow till I am upon the way. Now tell -me, before I send you to get food and rest, who is the person to whom -you take me?" - -"Nay, that I know not," replied Sam. "I have given my message as I -received it. I know no more." - -"Now this is very strange," exclaimed Mary, "and raises doubts. I know -not that I have injured any one, or that there is any who should wish -to do me wrong; but yet I have found that men will wrong each other -full often without a cause, sometimes without an object. Yet this -cross, this cross! I will go, whatever befall. This cannot lie or -cheat. I will go. But one thing at all events you can tell me. Whither -are you going to lead me. You must know the place, if not the person." - -"Ay, that I can tell, and may tell," replied Sam. "It is to the house -of a poor honest Franklin, who labours his own land, in the heart of -an old wood. A quiet and a secret place it is, nearly half way 'twixt -Atherston and St. Clare. The man is a good and honest man too, lady, -of more than seventy years of age, who lives in great retirement, -rarely seen but once in every summer month at Atherston market, where -he sells his corn and sheep; and when they are sold, he goes back upon -his way, holding but little talk with any one." - -"Seventy years of age," said the princess, thoughtfully. "Nay, that -cannot be then." - -"But indeed it is, lady," replied the piper, mistaking her meaning; -"for I have known him twenty years myself and more, and have seen his -hair grow grizzled grey, and then as white as snow." - -"Did you ever know or hear," demanded the princess, "of a dying or -wounded knight being carried thither, from any of the last combats -that took place between Lancaster and York--I mean about the time of -Tewksbury?" - -"No," replied Sam; "but I was lying ill then, being hurt with a pike -at Barnet, and could not walk for many a month." - -"And you can tell no more?" asked the princess. - -"No, nothing more," he answered, "but that there you will have the -tidings which you seek, as surely as you see that cross in your hand." - -"Come of it what will, I will go," said the princess. "But which is -the safest road? for it is strongly rumoured here, that the earl of -Richmond has landed somewhere on the coast, and that armies are -gathering fast to meet him. We might be stopped." - -"Oh no, all is quiet in this part of the land," replied the other; -"and we can easily go by Evesham and Coventry. I heard all the news -as I journeyed on. The earl, they say, has indeed landed in the far -parts of Wales; but his force is very small, and not likely to stand -against Sir Walter Herbert who commands there. A mere scum of that -ever-boiling pot called France, with scattered and tattered -gabardines, lean and hungry as wolves." - -"They may be found as fierce as wolves," said the princess. "But it -matters not. I will go, even should they be fighting in the midst of -the road. Now, good man, you shall have food, and your horse too. I -give you till four o'clock--time enough for rest. Be you ready; and, -if you lead me aright, you shall have further recompense." - -Her impatience somewhat outran the clock. She was on horseback with -her train, some minutes before four; and, ere they paused for the -night, they reached the small town of Evesham. The next day brought -them to Coventry, and thence a short day's journey remained to -Atherston. They arrived in the evening; but still there were two or -three hours of light; and as soon as the princess had entered the -small inn, to which she had sent forward harbingers, she ordered her -guide to be called, and told him that in half an hour she would be -ready to set out. - -"The place cannot be far," she said, "for I remember the road well; -and 'tis not a two hours' ride hence to St. Clare." - -"Were it not better to wait till morning?" demanded Sam, with a look -of some doubt. "It will take you well nigh an hour and a half to reach -the place we are going to, and--" - -"And what?" demanded Mary, seeing the man pause and hesitate. - -"I was going to say," replied Sam, "that you must take but two -attendants with you--men to hold the horses; and it might be as well -to wait till morning, as I hear troops are gathering fast, and tending -towards Nottingham, so that 'tis better to ride by daylight." - -Mary gazed at him with some suspicions rising again in her mind; but -yet the very wish to travel by daylight seemed to speak honesty of -purpose. - -"Was that what the man told you, whom I saw speaking to you at the -door?" she asked. - -"Yes," replied Sam. "He told me there were troops moving about in all -directions." - -"And why must I have only two men with me?" she demanded. - -"I know not," replied the piper. "So I am told. But, if you have any -fears, I will remain in the hands of your men, while you go in. They -can easily drive a sword through me, if any evil happens to you; but I -only say it is better to go in the morning, lest we should meet any of -the roving bands which always flock to the gathering of armies. Be it, -however, as you please." - -Mary thought for two or three moments, but then rose, saying-- - -"I will go, and at once. I cannot rest in uncertainty. Let them bring -forth the horses as soon as they are fed. We will ride quick, and make -the way short." - -From Atherston, for about half a mile, the little party pursued the -highway, till shortly after crossing the little river Anker, from the -banks of which they turned through lanes and by-paths, till they came -to a piece of sloping ground, where two hills crossed each other with -a low dell between them. A small stream ran in the valley; and beyond -the opposite slope, towards the north west, extended a considerable -mass of wood-land, over which were seen, rising at the distance of -five or six miles, the ruined walls and towers of the old castle near -St. Clare. The sun was already on the horizon, and the spot over which -they rode was in shadow; but the sky was beautifully clear, and the -golden light of the setting sun caught the high distant ruins, and the -young trees upon the hill on which it stood. - -"Here," said the piper, who was riding beside Mary to show her the -way, "here was fought the last skirmish of the war. It was one of the -most bloody too; for little quarter was given, and many a brave -soldier and noble gentleman fell here." - -"I know it well," said Mary, with her eyes full of tears. "I have been -here to weep before now. Oh, that my eyes could pierce those green -grassy mounds, and know who sleeps beneath." - -"They were not all buried here," said Sam, in a low tone. "Some were -buried at the abbey, and some at Atherston. Those were the knights and -captains. The common soldiers lie here." - -Mary rode on in silence; and more than once she wiped the tears from -her eyes. A mile farther brought them to the wood; but from this side -the distance to the franklin's house was farther; and the last quarter -of a mile was ridden in twilight. At length, however, while they could -still see, they came in sight of the low house, with its single story, -and the cultivated ground around it; and pointing with his hand, the -piper said, in a low voice-- - -"That is the house. Now you must go forward alone, lady; and when you -reach the door knock hard with your hand, and they will give you -admission. Ask to see the lady." - -"The lady!" said Mary, in a tone of surprise. - -"Yes," replied her guide, "the lady. I will stay here with the horses, -in the hands of your servants. There you will get the tidings which -you have long sought." - -The lady dismounted, and, bidding the servants wait, walked along the -little path. They could see her approach the house, and knock with her -hand at the door. It was opened instantly, and she disappeared. - - - - -CHAPTER XLII. - - -An old man, with a long white beard, presented himself before the -princess countess of Arran, almost the moment after she had knocked, -and, in answer to her demand to see the lady, simply said, "Follow -me," and led the way along the passage. Her heart beat; her brain -seemed giddy; her whole frame was agitated; but she went on; and, at -the end of a step or two, her guide opened a door, and held it in his -hand, till she had entered. Then closing it he retired. - -The sun, as I have said, had sunk; but the twilight was clear, and the -windows of the room looked towards the west, where lingered still the -rosy hues of the setting sun. The room was filled with a sort of hazy -purple air, and the objects which it contained, though shadowy and -somewhat indistinct, could still be seen clearly enough. Standing not -far from one of the windows, with the light background of the sky -behind her, so that her features were not discernible, the princess -Mary beheld the beautiful form of a girl, apparently eighteen or -nineteen years of age. As the rays passing from behind glanced on the -rich satin of her robe, and the gold lace that fringed the bodice, it -was evident to Mary that the person before her was dressed in the -gorgeous habiliments of the court of of that time. She could see -nothing more at the first moment, but as the girl advanced towards -her, the face was slightly turned towards the window, and the fine -chiselled features were beheld in profile, showing at once, how -beautiful they must be when the light of day displayed them more -fully. - -"Welcome, lady," said the sweet tones of Iola, the music of her voice -thrilling upon the ear of the princess, like the notes of some -delicate instrument, although there was much emotion in those tones. -"You have come somewhat sooner than I expected. I presume I speak to -the princess Mary." - -"The same, my child," replied the lady, taking her hand, which Iola -had partly offered. "This is a strange meeting; and you tremble more -than I do, though I am told that from your voice I shall hear tidings -which, whatever be their especial nature, may well shake and agitate -my heart and frame." - -"I am not wont to be so weak," said Iola; "nor to fear, nor to -hesitate; but yet I cannot help it at this moment. Let us sit down for -a while, and speak of other things, so that these emotions may pass -away." - -"They will but increase by delay," replied Mary; "and I am eager to -hear from your lips, or indeed from any lips, those tidings which to -me are as the words of Fate. Speak, then, dear child, speak at once, -and tell me what you know." - -"Nay, lady," said Iola, in a very grave and even melancholy tone, -withdrawing her hand from that of the princess; "I have questions to -ask as well as you; and they must be answered, before my lips are -unsealed." - -"Nay, this is cruel," said the princess Mary, "to torture me with -delay, when the sight of that cross, the gift of early pure affection, -to him I loved the best, and this mysterious journey, and this strange -meeting, have raised my expectations--oh, that I dared say my hopes to -the highest point--it is cruel indeed." - -"No, not cruel," answered Iola. "Could the dead see all the actions -of the living, would the living dare to meet the dead? I have a -hard and painful task to perform, and I must perform it. Yet, dear -lady, I would do it with all gentleness, for I have to ask painful -questions--questions which, if my heart tell me true, may raise anger -and indignation, as well as cause pain and sorrow." - -"Speak then, speak then," said Mary, impatiently. "Let them be quickly -over." - -"Well, then, as it must be so," said Iola, "let me first say, I know -the early history well, the marriage of the princess Mary to the earl -of Arran, her brother's subject and friend, the advantage which base -enemies took of his absence in Denmark, in his sovereign's service, to -ruin his father and his uncle, to seize his estates, forfeit his -honours, and blast his name--a name on which the voice of calumny -never breathed till then." - -Mary sank into a seat and covered her eyes with her hands; but Iola -went on, seeming to hurry her words to get over her painful task with -speed. - -"I know, too," she said, "the generous devotion of the princess, that -she fled in disguise from her brother's court, to warn her husband of -his danger, when he returned from his successful embassy, bringing -with him his sovereign's royal bride; I know that she sought his fleet -in a poor skiff, and fled with him into exile and poverty; I know that -she only returned to her own land, after years of exile, on the -delusive promise that her petition and submission would recover his -estates and honours, for him she loved. Hitherto, all is clear; but, -now comes the question--Lady, forgive me," she continued, taking -Mary's hand, and kissing it; "but I must pain you." - -"Speak, dear child, speak," said the princess. "There is nought in my -whole life, that I am not ready to tell here or anywhere." - -"Well, then," said Iola, with a sigh; "did the princess Mary, when her -husband was doing his knightly devoir here on this English ground, in -behalf of the house which had befriended him and his, did she consent -to a divorce from her once-loved lord, and----" - -"Never, never, never!" cried the princess, starting from her seat, -"never, by word or deed. What, has that dark tale come hither too? -'Twas done without my consent or knowledge; and, when done, I raised -my voice and wrote my protest against it. They told me he was dead. -They told me that he fell there, on Atherston moor--fell, as he lived, -in noble deeds and gallant self-devotion." - -"And then, hearing of his death," said Iola, in a voice sunk to the -lowest tone with emotion; "the princess married James, Lord Hamilton." - -"'Tis false!" exclaimed Mary, vehemently; and then, clasping Iola's -hand in her own, she added: "Strange, mysterious girl, how is it that -you, who know so much, do not know more? Hamilton was kind. He sought -my noble husband as a brother, spoke in his favour to the king, raised -his voice with mine; and, when at length the news of his death came, -my brother and my sovereign signed a contract of marriage on my -behalf, between him and me, and in his bounty gave lands and lordships -to Lord Hamilton and the Princess Mary, his wife. They laid the -contract before me, and I tore it and scattered it to the winds--for I -had doubts," she added, in a low thoughtful voice. "I saw couriers -going and coming to and from England, whose tidings were concealed -from me; and, I had doubts--I have still doubts--that he died then. -Now, I am sure he is dead, or they would not give me liberty to roam -and seek his burial-place; for, ever since that day, when I tore the -contract before my brother's face, in name I have been free, in truth -a prisoner. I had but one faithful servant, whom I could trust. He, -indeed, once deceived me, because he was himself deceived. He told me -that my husband was dead in Denmark; and when we found, from certain -intelligence, that he was here in England, warring for the house of -Lancaster, the poor man was more thunderstruck than I was, for I had -not believed the tale. Oh, how the heart clings to hope--how it clasps -the faded flower, when even the root is withered. Still, still, till -the end I hoped! With what tears I watered my pillow! With what -prayers I wearied Heaven. Although I saw letters telling plainly that -he died, sword in hand, on Atherston moor, I would not believe, till -they told me at length, but a few months since, that, if I pleased, I -might come and seek him myself. But, oh, dear child, that hope which I -so fondly clung to would become a horror and a terror, if I could -believe that my dear, my noble Arran, had been lingering on here, -living, and yet doubting of my faith and truth. I know what his noble -mind would have felt; I know how his kind and generous heart would -have been wrung; I know the black despair into which he would have -fallen. But it cannot be. I will not believe it. He would have -written; he would have sent; he would have found some means to -re-assure and comfort me. Now, then, I have answered all. Tell me, -tell me, I beseech you, how died my husband? Where have they laid him? -But you are weeping, my poor child." - -"Stay a moment," said Iola, her voice half choked with sobs. "I shall -recover in a minute. Then I will tell you all;" and, breaking away -from her, she, quitted the room suddenly. - -With a foot of light, Iola trod the passage nearly to the end, and -opened a door, from which immediately a light streamed forth. - -Sitting at a table underneath a burning sconce, with his arms resting -on the board, and his forehead on his arms, was a tall and powerful -man, dressed in the garments of a nobleman of high rank, somewhat -antiquated indeed in point of fashion, but still rich and in good -taste. He seemed not to hear Iola's foot; for he moved not, although -the stillness of his figure was broken by the heaving of his chest -with a long, deep, gasping sigh. She laid her hand upon his arm, -saying: - -"Look up, look up. Sunshine has come again." - -He raised his head with a start; and the countenance before her was -that of Boyd the woodman. - -With that eager grace so charming to see but indescribable in words, -Iola caught his hand and kissed it, as he gazed upon her with a look -of doubt and wonder. - -"It is all false," she cried, "all utterly false! She is yours--has -been yours always. True, through wrong, and persecution, and deceit, -she is yours still--yours only." - -"False," cried Boyd. "False? How can it be false? With my own eyes I -saw the announcement of his sister's marriage to James Hamilton, in -the king's own hand." - -"He signed the contract," cried Iola, "without her consent; but she -tore the contract, and refused to ratify it." - -"But my letters, my unanswered letters?" said Boyd. - -"She has been watched and guarded, surrounded by spies and deceivers," -exclaimed Iola, eagerly. "Hear all I have to tell you. Much may even -then remain to be explained, but, believe me, oh, believe me, all will -be explained clearly and with ease." - -"I know that one traitor, that John Radnor, was bought to tell her I -was dead, when not ten days before he had spoken to me--me, ever his -kind and generous lord--and knew that I was safe and well. I saw the -proof of the villain's treachery; and I slew him; but, oh, I cannot -think that there are many such. Yet they have been fiends of hell -indeed; for torture, such as the damned undergo, were not more than -they have fixed on me, by making me think my Mary, my beautiful, my -devoted, false to him she loved." - -"Oh, she was never false," cried Iola. "They thought to cheat her to -her own despair, by tales of your death; but the instinct of true love -taught her to doubt, till she had seen your tomb with her own eyes." - -"I will go to her. I will go to her," cried the earl of Arran, rising -up, and taking a step or two towards the door. But there he paused, -and asked, "Does she still believe me dead?" - -"She does," replied Iola, "though perhaps a spark of hope is kindled." - -"Go and fan it into flame," replied the earl, "gently, gently, Iola. I -will bear the delay. Yet come as soon as ever she can bear to see me. -Do it speedily, dear girl, but yet not rashly." - -"I will be careful. I will be very careful," said Iola; and, hurrying -away, she returned to the chamber where she had left the Princess -Mary, bearing a light with her. - -"You have been long, my child," said the Princess; "but your young -heart knows not the anguish of mine; and that fair face speaks no -unkindness." - -"It would speak falsely, did it do so," replied Iola. "Methinks the -power to give joy and reawaken hope were the brightest prerogative -that man could obtain from Heaven. And now be seated, dear lady; and I -will sit on this stool at your feet, and tell you a tale, woven into -which will be answers to all that you could question, with many a -comfort too, and a balm for a crushed and wounded heart." - -"Angel," cried the princess, drawing her to her and kissing her brow; -"you look and speak like one of Heaven's comforting spirits." - -"Listen then," said Lola. "'Tis more than ten years ago that a party -of the lords of Lancaster, led by the gallant earl of Arran, as the -most experienced of the troop, hastened across this country to join -queen Margaret's force at Tewksbury. The news of Barnet had vaguely -reached them; but still they hurried on in the direction which the -retreating army had taken. The main body of their little force -remained for the night on the green at St. Clare. I remember it well, -though I was then but a child of eight years old; for the earl of -Arran came to the Abbey, and I saw him there in his glittering armour. -He came on here himself, with several other gentlemen, and lodged for -the night at this house; for he had learned that a superior body of -troops was on the way to cut him off, in the neighbourhood of -Atherston. The old man whom you saw but now tried to persuade him to -retreat; but his high courage and his good faith led him on; and, on -the following day, he encountered the enemy on the moor, and, for -nearly two hours, made his ground good against a force treble his own -numbers. At length, however, in a strong effort to break through, -having already received an arrow in the arm and a wound in the head, -he was cast from his horse by a lance which pierced through and -through his corslet. The troops then fled, and the day was lost." - -Iola's voice trembled as she spoke, and Mary bent down her head upon -her hands and wept. - -"Be comforted," said the young girl, taking the princess's hand, and -gazing up towards her. "Hear me out; for there is comfort yet." - -"Ha!" exclaimed Mary, suddenly lifting her head. "Was he not slain -then--was he not slain?" - -"Hear me to the end," said Iola, "and hear me calmly. The old man you -saw but now had been a follower of the house of Lancaster. He was -interested too in that noble lord; and when he beheld the fugitives -pass along the edge of the wood, and the fierce pursuers spurring -after, he went away towards the field to see if he could aid the -wounded. He found a number of the people from the abbey upon the -field, and some of the good sisters. Litters were procured; the -wounded men were removed; the dying had the consolation of religion; -but the earl of Arran was not found amongst either. While the old man -went his way, the litters travelled slowly to St. Clare. She who was -abbess then asked anxiously for the earl of Arran; but they told her -that he was neither amongst the wounded, nor the dying, nor the dead. -She said they must be mistaken; for a soldier, who had stopped to get -a draught of water at the fountain, had seen him fall pierced with a -spear; and she sent them back with torches, for, by this time, it was -night, to seek for him once more. They sought for him in vain; but the -old franklin, as he had turned homewards, had seen something glitter -in the bushes just at the edge of the wood. On looking nearer, he -found that it was the form of an armed man, with the head of a lance -in his breast. The staff was broken off." - -"Oh, God, was he living?" exclaimed the princess. - -"He was," replied Iola; "nay, be calm, be calm, and hear me out. I -must tell the rest rapidly. The old man staid with him till nightfall; -then got a cart and moved him hither, where a great part of his -baggage had been left. They dared not send for a surgeon; for pursuit -after the house of Lancaster was fierce, and slaughter raged -throughout the land. But the old man himself extracted the lance's -head, and stanched the bleeding by such simples as he knew. For three -months he tended him as a father would a child; but for nearly a year -he was feeble and unable to move." - -"Does he live, does he live?" cried the princess. - -"Can you bear it?" asked Iola. "He did live long, for many years; but -he heard tidings which disgusted him with life. Hermit or monk he -would not become; for he had other thoughts; but he cast off rank and -state, and, putting on a lowly garb, he lived as a mere woodman in a -forest near, a servant of the abbey where all my youth was spent." - -"But now, but now!" demanded Mary. "Does he live now? Oh, tell me, -tell me!" - -As she spoke the door opened. Mary raised her eyes and gazed forward, -with a look of wild bewilderment, and then, with a cry of joy and -recognition, sprang forward and cast herself upon her husband's -bosom. - - - - -CHAPTER XLIII. - - -Confusion and agitation pervaded England from end to end. Men gathered -together in the streets and talked. Couriers passed between house and -house. The fat citizen gossipped with his neighbour, over the events -of the day, and looked big and important, as he doled out the news to -his better half at home. The peasantry too were moved by feelings of -their own. The village green and the alehouse had their politicians. -The good wife looked anxious, lest Hob should be taken for a soldier; -and the old men and women recalled the days when the feuds of York and -Lancaster were at their height, and hoped that such times were not -coming again. - -Still, however, the news spread far and wide, that the earl of -Richmond had landed on the Welsh coast, and was marching towards -London to grasp the crown. From castle to castle, and city to city, -and cottage to cottage, the rumour rolled on. He was there--actually -there, upon English ground; the long-expected blow was struck; the -long anticipated enterprise had begun. - -Busy emissaries, too, whispered in every ear, that Richmond was -affianced to the heiress of the house of York. There was no longer a -question of York and Lancaster. It was no longer a fratricidal war -between the descendants of the same ancestor; but York and Lancaster -were united; and the long rival factions took their stand, and -unfurled their banners, side by side, against one who was equally -inimical to both. Every evil act which Richard had committed was -called to memory, denounced, and exaggerated. False facts were -fabricated, many of which have been transmitted to the present day, to -blacken his character, and misrepresent his conduct. His views, his -deeds, his very person, were all distorted, and the current of popular -opinion was turned strongly against him. Still the prudent, the timid, -and the idle, counselled together, and prepared to follow a -temporising policy. - -"Take my advice," said an old man to his neighbours, "keep quite -quiet; take part with neither; let Lancaster cut York's throat or York -Lancaster's, or both join to destroy Richard, we have nothing to do -with such things. We shall suffer enough, whichever wins the day; but -better to suffer in pocket than to die or get wounds in a cause which -concerns us very little. One king is for us just as good as another; -and as to the question of right, as no doctors have settled it, how -should we be able to decide? Keep quiet, and let them fight it out -amongst themselves." - -Such was very commonly the feeling amongst the lower classes of -the people; and many of a higher rank were moved by the same -considerations. "If we fight for Richmond," they thought, "he may lose -a battle; and then we are at the mercy of Richard. If on the contrary -we march under the banners of Richard, he may be defeated, and -Richmond have our fate in his hands." - -The higher nobility, indeed, pursued a different course. They began to -gather men; they made preparations for war; but they kept as secret as -possible, in what direction they intended to act. They were in general -very silent as to their intentions, though exceedingly busy and active -in their preparation; and constant communications were passing from -one to the other, the nature of which was not discovered. - -The only one who seemed inactive in the realm was the king himself. -He, so energetic and daring in the camp and the field, so astute and -cautious in the council-chamber, for a time seemed to do very little. -The first news of Richmond's armament, indeed, had almost cast him -into a state of frenzy; but, when he learned that the earl had landed -at Milford-haven with but three thousand men, his rage appeared to -sink into contempt. He treated his coming as a mere bravado, and -seemed to scorn the display of any extraordinary measures against so -pitiful an attack. - -"Sir Walter Herbert will give a good account of him," he said, when -some of his courtiers spoke of the invasion. "Herbert has full five -thousand men, choice soldiers, ready and fit to rid our soil of these -French weeds, or I know nought of gardening. We shall soon hear news -of him." - -He did soon hear news; but it was that Richmond marched on unopposed -through the land, that he had been joined by Rice ap Thomas, with a -thousand men, that Savage had gone over to him, that Herbert made no -movement to oppose his progress, that Wales was rising rapidly in his -favour, that friends and supplies were pouring into his camp, and that -he was rapidly advancing upon Shrewsbury. Then it was that Richard not -only felt the necessity of energy, but became sensible of his danger, -and began to act with that fierce and impatient eagerness which had -formerly characterized him. His messengers hastened over all the -country, calling every one he could count upon to arms, and ordering -those who were doubtful to join him at Nottingham, without an hour's -delay. Norfolk and Northumberland were summoned in the same terms; but -while the one hastened to obey, with all the promptitude of zealous -attachment, the other made no professions, but slowly raised men, and -marched with tardy steps, into such a position that he could act as he -judged fit, whenever the moment for action came. Catesby hurried up -with all the men that he could raise; and many others came in with -extraordinary speed; for though disaffection had spread wide, it was -by no means universal; and many of those who were discontented were -not willing to aid in hurling Richard from the throne. The army -increased in number daily; and when the king compared his own force -with that of Richmond, even after the latter had reached Shrewsbury, -and had been joined by the young earl of that name, and the Lord -Talbot, he laughed all fears of danger to scorn, and prepared to cast -himself in the way of his enemy, in whatever direction he might bend -his steps. Lord Calverly was sent to raise all his tenantry and -dependants; and, amongst others to whom messengers were despatched, to -call them immediately to the aid of the crown, were Fulmer and -Chartley. The courier sent to the former found him on the full march -from Dorsetshire, and returned to Richard with this reply to his -summons-- - -"The Lord Fulmer craves the king's pardon, for moving without his -commands; but having learned that the earl of Richmond had landed in -Wales, he thought he could not be far wrong in marching at once, to -offer his sword and his troops to his sovereign's service." - -Richard was surrounded by many persons, when these words were -reported; but shortly after, he whispered to Ratcliffe, who stood near -him, saying-- - -"This youth Fulmer deserves well. He shall have his bride. But not -yet, Ratcliffe--not yet. We must crush this Breton-nurtured young -Richmond, and then we will have gay days and bridals. The girl must be -brought to a place of security. We will send her to York." - -"But your grace forgets that she is not at the abbey," replied -Ratcliffe, who took the king's words for a command. "She must be -found, before she can be sent to York." - -Richard smiled, with one of his dark looks of serpent subtlety, in -which a slight touch of scorn mingled with an expression of triumphant -cunning. - -"She needs not to be found," he answered; "but what said the young -Lord Chartley to our summons? Has he returned no answer?" - -"He called for his horse at the first word, sire," replied Ratcliffe, -"and said, that in four days his tenants should be in the field." - -"Impetuous ever!" said Richard; but then he fell into a fit of musing, -and his brow grew somewhat dark. "Four days," he repeated, "four days -That argues preparation. He has a two days' journey, speed as he will. -His tenants shall be in the field--Ay, but for whom? Send some one -after him. Bid him join us at Broughton, and let him be well watched." - -"At Broughton, sire?" said Ratcliffe, in a doubtful tone. - -"Yes," answered Richard; "we march tomorrow for Leicester. At -Broughton we have him at our will. Have you heard from Lord Stanley, -or his brother, Sir William?" - -"He is true, I doubt not, sire," replied Ratcliffe; "the last news was -that he had fallen back somewhat from Lichfield, upon the advance of -Richmond, not having force to oppose him, since the defection of Sir -George Talbot and the earl of Shrewsbury. But 'tis said his brother -William is marching to join him with two thousand men, and they will -fight the traitor as soon as they meet." - -"That must not be," said Richard, with a stern thoughtful look. "If -they win the field, a subject gains the honour which the crown should -have. If they fail, they plume this gosshawk's wings with the eagle -pens of victory, and many will draw to him after a won battle, many -fall from us. There is ever, Ratcliffe, a light and fickle crowd, that -flutters round success, heedless of right or merit, as clouds gather -round the rising sun to gild their empty vapours in the beams that -suck them up ere it be noon. No, no! We will have no one either snatch -Richmond from our hand, or try and fail. Bid them fall back as he -advances, till, with our kingly force, we overwhelm him like a rat in -a torrent. Send off a post to-night; and, in the meanwhile, watch well -the young Lord Strange. His neck is better security than his good -father's faith. We will to Leicester early, before the army. But it -must not lag behind. One day's march lost, and Richmond would slip by. -He must not reach St. Paul's." - -Thus saying, he turned to the rest of the courtiers, and spoke of -other things. - - - - -CHAPTER XLIV. - - -The sun had set nearly an hour. The moon had not yet risen, and the -forest was all in darkness; but there were many people round the door -of the woodman's cottage. Horsemen, and men in armour, and a groom -leading a beautiful white horse, evidently caparisoned for a lady. -Through the chinks of the boards which covered the windows much light -was streaming; and the scene within was an unusual one for such a -place. There were four persons standing round a table, on which was -laid a parchment; and Iola and Chartley had just signed it. The earl -of Arran took the pen and gave it to the princess countess of Arran, -who added her name to the act; and he, himself, then subscribed his -own. - -Two or three of the attendants, male and female, attested the deed -likewise; and then the woodman, if we may still so call him, placed -Iola's hand in Chartley's, saying, "Now, take her, noble lord, and -place her beyond risk and danger as speedily as may be. To your honour -she is trusted; and I do believe that neither your honour nor your -love will ever fail; but yet, remember she is not your wife till the -ceremonies of religion have consecrated the bond between you. I trust -we shall all meet again soon, in the presence of those who may rightly -judge of these matters; and I promise you there to prove, that the -contract between this lady and the Lord Fulmer is utterly null and -void, and that this contract is legal and good. To insure all, -however--for who shall count upon even a single day--give this letter -to the earl of Richmond, when you have joined him, and tell him it -comes from the woodman who once sent him intelligence which saved him -from captivity, and perhaps from death. Now, God's blessing be upon -you, my children. Nay, let us have no farewells, dear Iola. Take her, -Chartley, take her, and away." - -"But was not Constance to meet us here?" said Iola, in a low tone. "I -thought she was to be my companion." - -"I fear that has gone wrong," said the woodman. "The abbey gates were -closed an hour before sunset, and even one of my men was refused -admission to the mere outer court; but I shall join you soon and bring -you news. Though I can raise no great force, yet with what men I can -muster I will not fail to help the noble earl with my own hand. So -tell him." - -Thus saying, he led Iola to the door of the cottage, with his own -strong arms placed her on the horse's back, and then with one more -blessing, retired from her side. Chartley sprang lightly and happily -into the saddle, and the whole party rode on. It consisted of some -twenty men besides the lover and his lady; and, at a quick pace, they -proceeded through the forest, taking very nearly the same direction -which had been followed by the woodman and the bishop of Ely, but by -the general road, instead of the narrow and somewhat circuitous paths -along which the prelate had been led. - -I have not time or space to pause upon the feelings of Iola at that -moment--at least, not to describe minutely. They were strange and new -to her. She had encountered danger; she had resisted anger, without -fear; but her circumstances now were very different. She was not only -going alone with the man whom she loved into the wide world, with -perils, changes, and events, surrounding them on all sides like a -mist, through which the most piercing eye could not discover one ray -of light, but she was quitting all old associations, breaking through -every habit of thought, entering upon an entirely new state of being. -The grave of a woman's first life is her marriage contract. Did she -doubt? Did she hesitate? Oh, no, she feared for the future in one -sense, but in one sense alone. She believed, she knew, she felt, that -she had chosen well, that Chartley's love would not alter, nor his -tenderness grow cold, that her happiness was in him, and was as secure -as any fabric can be, built upon a mortal and perishable base; but she -felt that in uniting her fate to his, if she doubled the enjoyments -and the happiness of being, she doubled the dangers and anxieties -also. She was much moved, but not by that consideration--in truth her -emotion sprang not from consideration at all. It was a sensation--a -sensation of the awfulness of the change; and though it did not make -her tremble, yet whenever she thought of it, and all that it implied -through the wide long future, a thrill passed through her heart which -almost stepped its beatings. - -With Chartley it was very different. Men cannot feel such things with -such intensity, nay, can hardly conceive them. His sensations were all -joyful. Hope, eager passion, gratified love, made his heart bound -high, and filled it with new fire and energy. He was aware that many -dangers were around them, that every hour and every moment had its -peril, and that then a strife must come, brief and terrible, in which, -perhaps, all his newborn joys might be extinguished in death. But yet, -strange to say, the thought of death, which had never been very -fearful to him, lost even a portion of its terrors rather than -acquired new ones, by what might appear additional ties to existence. -We little comprehend in these our cold calculating days--in an age -which may be designated "The age of the absence of enthusiasms"--we -little comprehend, I say, the nature of chivalrous love; nor, indeed, -any of the enthusiasms of chivalry. I must not stay to descant upon -them; but suffice it to say, Chartley felt that, whenever he might -fall, to have called Iola his own, was a sufficient joy for one mortal -life, that to do great deeds and die with high renown, loving and -beloved and wept, was a fate well worthy of envy and not regret. - -Still he had some faint notion of what must be passing in her breast. -He felt that the very situation must agitate her; he fancied that the -mere material danger that surrounded them might alarm her; and he -hastened to cheer and re-assure her as much as might be. - -"I trust, dearest Iola," he said, "that I shall not weary you by this -fast riding, after all the agitation of to-day. Once past Tamworth, -and we shall be more secure; for all my men muster at Fazely; and I -trust to find myself at the head of three hundred horse." - -"Do you stop at Tamworth?" asked Iola. "I have heard that there are -parties of the king's troops there." - -"We must leave it on the right, where the roads separate," replied -Chartley. "Stanley, I hear, is retreating somewhere in this direction -from Lichfield; but him I do not fear. If we reach Lichfield in -safety, all danger is past. Ride on, dear one, for a moment, while I -speak to some of the men in the rear. I will not be an instant ere I -return to your side." - -He might perceive something to raise apprehension, as he thus spoke, -or he might not; but Chartley dropped back, and gave orders to two of -the men, to keep at the distance of a hundred yards behind the rest, -and if the slightest signs of pursuit were observed, to give instant -warning; and then, while returning towards Iola, he paused for an -instant by the Arab. "Ibn Ayoub," he said, "in case of attack, I give -thee charge of the most precious thing I have. Shouldst thou see signs -of strife, seize the lady's bridle, and away for safety, wherever the -road is clear. Fleet will be the horses that can keep pace with thine -and hers. A town, called Lichfield, is the place where we must meet. -Thou hast once been there, and dost not forget." - -"Why should the emir fight, and the slave fly?" asked Ibn Ayoub; "but -be it as thou wilt." - -"It must be so," answered his lord; "now, ride up closer to us, and -remember my words." - -Thus saying, he spurred on and renewed the conversation with Iola, in -a cheerful though tender tone, and dear words were spoken, and bright -hopes expressed, which made the way seem short. They recalled the -past, they talked of the night when they had first met, and their -sojourn in the forest, and Iola forgot in part her agitation, in the -thrilling dreams of memory; but every now and then she would wake -from them with a start, and recollect that she was there with -Chartley--there alone--not to return in a few hours to the friends and -companions of early youth, but in one, or, at most, two short days, to -be his wife, to renounce all other things for him, and to merge her -being into his. It was very sweet; but it was awful too, and, as from -a well in her heart, new feelings gushed and almost overpowered her. - -They had passed the turning of the road to Tamworth, and were riding -on towards Fazely. All danger of an attack from that side seemed over; -and Chartley's conversation became lighter and more gay, when suddenly -one of his men rode up from behind, saying: - -"There are some horsemen following, my noble lord. They are but three -indeed, of that I am sure, for I rode up to that little hillock on the -common, whence I can see for half a mile. But I thought it best to -tell you." - -"Spies, perhaps," said Chartley, in a calm tone. "If so, I would fain -catch them, and bring them in to Fazely. Ride on, dearest Iola. I will -take ten men, and see who these gentlemen are. All is prepared for you -at Fazely, and we are beyond peril now. I will follow you at once. Ibn -Ayoub, guard the lady." - -"Chartley, you would not deceive me?" said Iola; "if there be danger, -I would share it at your side." - -"Indeed, there is none," replied Chartley, "you heard, dear one, what -the man said. I know no more. There are but three men. They can make -no attack, and indeed no resistance." - -He turned his horse's head as he spoke, and, taking the eight last men -of the troop with him, rode back to the rear. He had not far to go, -however; for, about two hundred yards behind, he plainly saw the -figures of three horsemen, one in front and two following, coming at a -quick pace along the road. He halted his little troop when he could -distinguish them, and as they approached nearer, exclaimed: - -"Stand! Who comes here?" - -"Is that thee, Lord Chartley?" asked a voice, which the young nobleman -thought familiar to his ear. - -"It matters not who I am," he replied; "you cannot pass till you -declare yourself." - -"May I never wear aught but a sorry-coloured cloth cloak and brown -hosen," cried the other, "if that be not Chartley's tongue. I am Sir -Edward Hungerford; do you not know me?" - -"Faith, Hungerford!" replied Chartley, laughing; "like a kingfisher, -you are better known by your feathers than your voice. But what brings -you this way?" - -"Seeking you, good my lord," replied Hungerford, riding up. "I have -been over at Atherston enquiring for you, and then upon a certain -green near a certain abbey; and I fear me, by riding through these -roads, in this dusty August, I have utterly polluted a jerkin of sky -blue satin, of the newest and quaintest device--would you could see -it; and yet now 'tis hardly fit to be seen, I doubt--but faith, all -the news I could get of you, was that you had ridden away towards -Fazely, where your musters are making, and, as I rode down to the -bridge on the Coleshill road, I caught a sound of horses' feet, and -followed." - -"But what might be your object?" asked Chartley; "what your pressing -business with me?" - -"Nay, I will tell you, when we get to Fazely," replied Hungerford; -"and we had better ride on quick, for I must bear back an answer to -Tamworth to-night." - -The society of Sir Edward Hungerford, at Fazely, was by no means what -Chartley desired; and he determined on his course at once. - -"Gramercy, Hungerford!" he said; "these are perilous times, which -break through courtesies and abridge ceremonies. Fazely is in -possession of my merry men. It is an open undefended village, and I -will let none into it, but my own people." - -"Why, you do not look on me as a spy," replied Hungerford, in an -offended tone; "your hospitality is scanty, my lord Chartley." - -"If you have to return to Tamworth to-night, Hungerford, it is not -hospitality you seek," answered Chartley; "true, I do not look on you -as a spy, or ought, but the best-dressed man of honour in the land; -but I do hold it a point of prudence, in times like these, to let no -one know the numbers and disposition of my little force, when one can -never tell in what ranks one may see him next. In a word, my gentle -friend, I have heard that you have been of late with good Lord Fulmer, -down in Dorsetshire; and Lord Fulmer is much doubted at the court, let -me tell you--of his love for me there is no doubt. Now, if you were -seeking me at Atherston and elsewhere, you can speak your errand here -as well as at Fazely." - -"But you cannot read a billet here as well as at Fazely," replied -Hungerford, "no, nor smell out the contents--though I had it scented -before I brought it, which he had omitted." - -"Who is he?" asked Chartley. - -"My noble friend, Lord Fulmer, to be sure," answered the gay knight. - -"Ah, then, I guess your errand," replied Chartley; "here, let us -dismount and step aside. Mundy, hold my horse." Springing to the -ground, he walked to a little distance from his men, with Sir Edward -Hungerford. - -"Now my good friend," he said, "let me have it in plain words, and as -briefly as may suit your courtly nature." - -The message, which Hungerford delivered in somewhat circuitous terms, -and with many fine figures of speech, was what Chartley anticipated; -and he replied at once-- - -"I will not baulk him, Hungerford, though good faith, he might have -chosen a more convenient season. Yet I will not baulk him; but, as the -person challenged, I will dictate my own terms." - -"That is your right," said Hungerford, "we can have the cartel fairly -drawn out, and signed by each." - -"Good faith, no," answered Chartley; "the first of my conditions is, -that there be no cartel. We have no time for fooleries. Events are -drawing on, in which all personal petty quarrels must be lost; but -still, although I might refuse, and refer our difference to a future -time, when peace is restored, yet I will not seek delay, if he will -demand no other terms but those I can grant at once. Thus then, I will -have no parade of lists, and witnesses, and marshals of the field; but -I will meet him sword to sword, and man to man, my bare breast against -his. Alone too let it be. There is no need of mixing other men in our -quarrels. It must be immediate too; for I have not time to wait upon -his pleasure. To-morrow at dawn, tell him, I will be alone upon the -top of yonder little hill, behind which the moon is just rising, if -that silver light in the sky speaks truth. There we can see over the -country round, so that his suspicious mind cannot fear an ambush. I -will be alone, armed as I am now, with sword and dagger only. Let him -come so armed likewise, and he shall have what he seeks. These are my -conditions, and thereon I give you my hand. Be you the witness of our -terms; and if either take advantage, then rest shame upon his name." - -"I will tell him, my good lord," replied Hungerford, "but I cannot -answer he will come; for these conditions are unusual. 'Tis most -unpleasant fighting before breakfast. Men have more stomach for a -hearty meal, than a good bout of blows." - -"Good faith, if he have no stomach for the meal I offer, he may even -leave it," answered Chartley. "'Tis the only time, and only manner -that he shall have the occasion. You own, yourself, I have a right to -name the terms." - -"Undoubtedly," replied Hungerford. "Yet still the manner is most -uncustomary, and the hour comfortless. If I were a general I would -never let my men fight till after dinner: An Englishman gets savage in -digestion, owing to the quantity of hard beef he eats, and always -should be brought to fight at that hour when he is fiercest. However, -as such is your whim, I will expound it to Lord Fulmer; and now, my -noble lord, I trust you will not hold my act unfriendly, in bearing -you this billet, which I will leave with you, although I have -delivered the substance." - -"Not in the least, Hungerford," replied Chartley. "I believe, like -many another man, you are better, wiser, than you suffer yourself to -seem." - -"Thanks, noble lord," replied the knight, moving by his side towards -their horses; "but there was one important matter, which I forgot to -mention, though I have borne it in my mind for several months." - -"Ay, what was that?" demanded Chartley, stopping. - -"That last night at Chidlow," replied Hungerford, "your doublet was -looped awry. Were I you, I would strictly command the valet of my -wardrobe to begin at the lowest loop, and so work upwards; for it has -a singular and unpleasant effect upon the eye to see apparel out of -place, especially where slashings and purfling, or bands, or slips, or -other regular parts of the garment are out of symmetry. For my part I -cannot fancy any fair lady looking love upon such a disjointed -garment." - -"I will follow your sage advice," replied Chartley, laughing; "and -now, good night, Hungerford. Another evening I trust to entertain you -better." - -Thus they parted; and Chartley, putting his horse to speed, rode after -Iola and her companions. They had reached Fazely, however, before he -overtook them; and the young lord found the master of his household, -with all due reverence, showing the lady Iola to the apartments in the -large farm-house which had been prepared for her. - -The place was not a palace assuredly; but many a little graceful -decoration had been added to its plain accommodations, since -Chartley's messenger had arrived that evening. Garlands of flowers had -been hung above the doors, fresh rushes strewed the floors, and -wreaths of box hung upon the sconces. - -All was bustle too in the village. Groups of men in arms were seen -lingering about; and merry sounds came from the ale-house opposite. -Iola's heart, however, sunk a little, when she saw the many signs of -approaching warfare, although those who were to take part therein, and -peril life and happiness, seemed to treat it as a thoughtless May-day -game. A buxom country girl was waiting to attend upon her, some light -refreshments were spread out in the hall; and when Chartley's step and -Chartley's voice were heard, the momentary sensation of dread passed -away, and she felt that the first perils were passed. - -An hour, a little hour, they stayed together, in sweet dreamy talk; -and then Chartley led her to her chamber, where a bed had also been -prepared for the maid. With a kind and gentle adieu, Chartley bade her -rest well, that she might be refreshed for their march on the -following day, and then returned to hear reports, and give directions. - -The next was a busy hour. Orders, inquiries, the receipt of -intelligence, the examination of rolls and accounts, filled up the -time; and then, dismissing all to repose, the young lord sat down to -write. Two or three letters were speedily finished; one to Lord -Stanley, one to the Earl of Richmond, and one to Sir William Arden. A -few brief tender lines to Iola he folded up and put in his own bosom; -after which he wrote some directions upon paper, sealed them, and then -marked upon the back--"To be opened and followed if I be not returned -by eight of the clock--Chartley." - -And then he sat, and leaned his head upon his hand, and thought. He -would not retire to rest, lest he should not wake in time; but the -hours of the night slipped by; and at length he rose, and broke the -slumbers of his drowsy master of his household, who, though startled -at seeing his lord by his bed-side, could hardly be brought to -understand what was said to him. - -"Here, take these orders," said Chartley. "Put them under your pillow -for to-night, and see that they be executed at the hour named -to-morrow." - -"I will, my lord. Yes, my lord, I will," replied the man, rubbing his -eyes; and having given him the paper, Chartley procured a cup of cold -water, drank it for refreshment after his sleepless night, and then -proceeded to the stable. There, with his own hands, he saddled his -horse; then mounted, and rode away. - - - - -CHAPTER XLV. - - -I know no labour of the body which fatigues so much as agitation of -the mind; but the fatigue which it produces is very often of that kind -which refuses repose. The mind, in its immortality, does not so easily -yield to slumber as its death-doomed companion. More than an hour -passed ere Iola slept; but, when she did sleep, it was with the calm -and tranquil repose of youth and innocence. Fears she might feel; -strong emotions might affect her; dangers, anxieties, and cares she -might undergo; but there was no evil act to be regretted, no evil -thought to be combatted. The worm that dieth not was not in the heart. -The fire that cannot be quenched had not passed upon the brain. She -slept sweetly, tranquilly then; and daylight found her sleeping still. - -The light-hearted country girl, who lay on the small bed at her feet, -slept quietly too; but she had her accustomed hour of waking, and, at -that hour, she rose. Her moving in the room roused Iola; and on being -informed of the hour, though it was an early one, she said she would -rise too, that she might be ready for whatever course Chartley chose -to follow. Her toilet was nearly complete, and the girl had left the -room some minutes, when she suddenly returned with a look of alarm, -saying: - -"Oh, lady, there is that terrible-looking black man at the door, -insisting to speak with you." - -Iola waited not to hear more, though the girl was going on to tell her -that the whole house was in confusion, but sprang to the door and -threw it open, demanding, - -"What is it, Ibn Ayoub?" - -"There is danger, lady," said the Arab. "My lord gave me charge to -guard you to Lichfield in case of strife; and strife is coming." - -"But where is your lord?" demanded Iola, with eager alarm in her tone -and look. - -"It is not known," replied the Arab. "He rode out this morning alone, -it is supposed to visit some posts, or see for the men not yet come -up. But he commanded me yesterday to guard you safely to Lichfield in -any hour of peril. That hour is now. The Lord Stanley with a large -force is marching on us; and our people are parlying with his, at the -end of the village. They say they will give admission to none, till -our lord's return; and Lord Stanley says he will force them. Throw on -your hood, lady, and come down. Your horse is ready; and there is a -way through the farm into the fields." - -Iola hesitated for a moment; and then, looking earnestly in the Arab's -face, she demanded: - -"Did he say that I was to go?" - -"By the beard of the prophet, he did," replied Ibn Ayoub. - -At the same moment came the blast of a trumpet from no great distance; -and the voice of the master of Chartley's household was heard calling -up the stairs, and exclaiming: - -"Call the Lady Iola, call the Lady Iola!--Tell her she had better -hasten away, out by the other end of the village. Bid her make -haste--bid her lose no time." - -Iola snatched up her hood from the table; and leaving all the little -articles of dress which had been brought with her, scattered about, -she hurried down the stairs. All was confusion below; and in vain she -tried to obtain some further information concerning Chartley. Most of -the men had gone forth at the first news of danger; and there were -none but the farmer and his sons, and the master of the household, an -elderly and somewhat infirm man, on the lower story. The latter urged -her eagerly to fly; and, hurrying into the court at the back of the -house, she was soon mounted on the fleet horse which had borne her -thither. Ibn Ayoub seized the bridle. One of the young men opened the -great gates behind and in a minute or two after, Iola found herself -amongst the fields and hedgerows, to the east of Fazely. Those -hedgerows were then numerous, and in full leaf, hiding the fugitives -from all eyes; and for nearly half an hour, the Arab urged the horses -on at a quick pace. At first, just as they issued from the village, a -number of loud sounds were borne upon the air; and once again a blast -of a trumpet was heard. But gradually the sounds became faint, as Iola -rode on; and very soon the calm sweet silence of an early summer -morning fell over the scene around. Nought was heard but the beating -of the horse's feet upon the road, the lowing of some distant cattle, -and the singing of a bird. All was peaceful, except poor Iola's heart; -and it beat with manifold agitating sensations. - -"Let us go slower, Ibn Ayoub," she said. "We must be out of danger -now--at least, out of that danger. Let me think, let me think. At this -pace, I seem to leave thought behind me." - -"Ay, there is no peril now," said the Arab, in his peculiar Oriental -tone; "but yet it were well to reach Lichfield as soon as may be; for -there my lord said he would join us." - -"But are you sure you are in the way to Lichfield?" asked Iola. "And -are you sure, also, that your lord will be able to join us?--Heaven, -what will become of me, if he should not?" - -"God is good," said the Arab, reverently laying his hand upon his -breast, "and fate is unchangeable. This is the road to Lichfield; so I -understood them; but every road has an end; and we shall soon see. Yet -let us go slowly. I forgot you are not an Arab." - -The way was longer however than the good slave thought, and seemed to -Iola interminable. Villages were in those days few in the land; and -many of the towns now existing were then villages. The road they -travelled was evidently a small country road, good enough from the -dryness of the season, but little frequented, and furnished with none -of that convenient information, which tells the traveller of modern -times, by an inscription on a tall post, that he must turn to the -right to reach one place, or to the left to reach another. The heat -was very great too, oppressing both the horses and the riders which -they bore; and gradually the bright clear light of the summer morning -began to be obscured. A thin filmy veil was drawn over the sky; and, -as if forming themselves out of it, the yellowish outlines of gigantic -clouds were seen writhing and twisting themselves into a thousand -strange fantastic shapes. There was no wind, and yet they moved, and, -gradually piling themselves up, they seemed to climb one over the -other, like the Titans in the strife with Heaven. - -"We shall have a storm ere night," said the Arab; "and you seem weary -and alarmed, lady." - -"Alarmed I am, but not for the storm, Ibn Ayoub," replied Iola. "It is -for your dear lord, I am alarmed. It is this apprehension makes me -feel weary, I believe, and the agitation of our sudden departure. Yet -the air is terribly oppressive. I feel as if I could hardly breathe;" -and she unclasped the sort of collar, called a gorget, which, at that -time, formed a part of every lady's dress. - -The Arab smiled. "It has but the feeling of spring to me," he said, -"though in your cold clime, doubtless, it seems hot; but we will find -some house where you can get refreshment and a few minutes repose." - -"We may obtain information," said Iola; "and that is of more -importance. I can very well ride on to Lichfield. It was but six -miles, I think they said, from Fazely. By this time, we ought to have -seen it, I think." - -"True, we have travelled more than six miles," said the man; "but yet -all seems clear. Nay, there is a house there. I see the roof peeping -over the hill; and this must be, the gate leading up to it." - -They turned along the little farm road, which they saw winding through -two neighbouring fields, sloping upwards towards the west; and, as -they rose upon the little hill, they attained a more distinct view of -a good sized farmer's or franklin's house, with the low sheds and -barns, which were then common in England. - -"You go first and speak to them, lady," said Ibn Ayoub. "My skin -frightens them--as if it needed to be washed in milk, to have a true -heart." - -He spoke from experience; and, judging that he was probably right, -Iola rode on to the door, and called to a girl, who was carrying a -milk-pail through the passage. She instantly set down the pail, and -came running out to speak with the beautiful lady who called to her; -but the moment she cast her eyes beyond Iola, to the face and figure -of Ibn Ayoub, she ran back into the house with a scream. An elder -woman, however, appeared in her place, with a frank good-humoured -countenance, to whom Iola explained that she had come from Fazely, -intending to go to Lichfield, but that, from the distance they had -travelled without finding the city, she judged they must have made -some mistake. - -"Mistake, sweet lady! ay, marry, have you," answered the good woman. -"Why, you are within four miles of Castle Bromwich, and I don't know -how far from Lichfield--fourteen miles, we reckon; and they are good -long ones, as I know. But you look tired and pale. Won't you come in -and rest? That foolish child was frightened at your tawny Moor; but -I'll warrant she'll soon be playing with his golden bracelets." - -Iola had turned pale, to find that she was so far distant from the -place of her destination. She feared, too, that in so long a ride as -was now before her, she might fall in with some parties of the troops -that were crossing the country; and, judging that she might obtain -some information for her guidance at the farm, she accepted the good -woman's offer, and dismounted. Ibn Ayoub led the horses round to a -stall at the back of the house; and Iola was soon seated in the -kitchen of the cottage, with milk and eggs before her, and the good -dame pressing her to her food. There is something in graceful -sweetness of manner, which wins upon the rudest and most uncultivated. -But the good farmer's wife was not so. By character kind and cheerful, -nature had taught her the best sort of courtesy, and to it had been -added an education superior to that of many in her own rank. She could -read, and she could write, which was more than one half of the class -above her own could do; and she had lived in towns before she married -a farmer, which had rendered her polished in comparison with others. -It was with the kindness of her heart, however, that Iola had most to -do; for there was so much frank sincerity in her hospitality, that -Iola was encouraged to place some sort of confidence in her, and to -ask her advice as to her farther course. The opportunity of so doing -was easily found; for the good woman herself was not without that -share of curiosity which is almost uniformly found amongst persons -leading a very solitary life; and she asked full as many questions as -it was discreet to put. Amongst the rest, how it happened that a lady, -like Iola, was going to Lichfield, with only one man to guard her, and -he a tawny Moor? - -"There were plenty of men to guard me this morning," replied Iola; -"but Fazely was menaced by a large body of troops, which the people -about me judged to be enemies; and I was advised to fly as fast as -possible, with the good Arab, who is a faithful and devoted attendant -of----" - -There Iola paused and hesitated, not knowing how to conclude her -sentence, without calling forth inquiries or perhaps exciting -suspicions, which might be difficult to answer, and unpleasant to -endure. But the good woman saved her all pain on the subject. - -"There, never mind names," she said. "These are not times for people -travelling to give their names. It may be your husband, it may be your -brother, you are talking of; but it is all the same to me. So then, -there are two sets of them at Fazely, are there I heard of some people -having mustered there from the west, three or four days ago; but I -did not know there were any others marching up. Are you aware, dear -lady--nay, do take another egg; you want refreshment, I can see--are -you aware that the earl of Richmond and all his people are at this -time in Lichfield?" - -"No, I was not," answered Iola; "but, nevertheless, I must get forward -thither as fast as I can; for there I am to be met by those to whom I -must look for assistance and protection; and what I now fear is -encountering any of the bands of lawless soldiers, who are now roaming -about the land." - -"Ay, marry, 'tis to be feared you do, riding so lonely. Why, Castle -Bromwich was full of Sir William Stanley's people; but the greater -part moved on yesterday to Atherston; two thousand goodly men as you -would wish to see, they tell me; one half of them in armour of plate. -I know not whether any were left behind, but 'tis very likely; for -there is generally what they call a rear guard. Then there are the -king's troops moving from Tamworth towards Leicester. They were to go -yesterday. I don't know whether they did. As for that matter, Sir -William's are the king's troops too, I suppose." - -This intelligence did not serve to cheer Iola very much, for it only -showed her, more forcibly than ever, the difficulty she might meet -with, in trying to escape from that circle of military operations -which were taking place all around her; and, for a moment or two, she -looked so disconsolate, that the good woman's pity was moved. - -"Ah, poor thing," she said, "I wish I knew what I could do for you. -You are too young, and too gentle, to be exposed to such sort of -things. Now, I warrant you, you have seldom stretched your limbs on a -hard bed, or eaten homely fare like ours." - -"Oh yes, I have, often," replied Iola, with a gayer smile than she had -ever assumed since she entered the house; "and very happy was I when I -did so." - -"But you are a lady by birth?" said the good woman, with a doubtful -look. - -"Oh yes," replied the fair girl, "I am the heiress of a high house, my -good dame; more's the pity." - -"Ay, why more's the pity?" asked the farmer's wife. - -"Because flies will come where there is honey," answered Iola; "and -many a one seeks riches who cares little for love." - -"True, very true," replied the other, with a sigh. "I wish I could -help you, dear lady; but I know not how. They took all our horses and -carts yesterday, and the men with them, and my husband too, to carry -over the baggage of Sir William's troops to Atherston. If my man had -been at home, he would have told you what to do soon enough; for he -has got a head, I'll warrant." - -"Let us call in the slave, and consult with him," said Iola. "He is -faithful and honest; and we trust him much." - -Ibn Ayoub was accordingly sought for, and found in the farm-yard, -where he had already made such progress in overcoming the prejudices -of the farmer's daughter, that she had brought him a bowl of milk with -her own hands. Although he spoke English but imperfectly, and -understood less what others said than they understood him, his -questions soon elicited from the good farmer's wife and her daughter, -who followed him into the room, much more intelligence than Iola had -obtained. The girl told them, that people from Bromwich had been -seeking more carts that morning, that a band of Sir William Stanley's -men had arrived at the town by daybreak, and were to depart at noon, -or before, if they could get carriage. The farmer's wife remembered, -too, that one body of them was likely to pass along the very road upon -which she had been about to direct Iola towards Lichfield. - -"Can we learn when they have gone by?" asked Ibn Ayoub, in his laconic -way. - -"Then we could go on at once, when the way is clear," said Iola. - -"That were easily done," said the farmer's wife. "The road is not very -far. We have a field that overlooks it." - -"Send the little cow-boy to feed the cattle by Conyer's copse," -suggested the daughter. "There he will see them all pass; and, my life -for it, he will go down and talk with some of the archers, and learn -what they are doing, and all about it." - -"'Tis a good way," said Ibn Ayoub. "Let him not know why he is sent, -lest he tell as well as ask." - -Such was the course followed. With his dinner put into his wallet, the -boy was sent to drive the cattle from the pasture where they were -feeding, to that which overlooked the road; and he was strictly -enjoined, if any soldiers went by, and asked whether there were carts -or waggons at the farm, to say, no, they had gone to Atherston and not -returned, and to come back and tell when they had passed. Iola, it was -arranged, should remain where she was, till it was ascertained that -this body at least had gone by; and when she made some faint excuse -for intruding so long upon the good dame's hospitality, her hostess -laughed, saying-- - -"Bless thee, my child, if 'twere for a month, thou art welcome. So thou -art safe, I do not care. Come, Jenny, you've got the churning to do; -and I have to make the cakes." - -All that frank and simple kindness could do, during the next three or -four hours, was done by the good woman of the house, to make her fair -guest comfortable and at ease. Amongst the most painful periods of -life, however, are those when thought and feeling are compelled to -strive against each other for the mastery, when the heart is filled -with deep emotions, and yet the external things of life are pressing -upon the brain for attention and consideration. Such was now Iola's -situation, as she sat meditating upon how she should make her way to -Lichfield, through all the difficulties and dangers which surrounded -her, while her heart was filled with anxiety for Chartley, and for the -result of the struggle which she believed might be going on at Fazely. - -Twelve o'clock, one, two, three o'clock came; and the cow-boy did not -return. At last, somewhat anxious in regard to his absence, the -farmer's daughter set forth herself to see for him. She found him in -the very act of watching a small body of troops, passing from castle -Bromwich towards Atherston; and, having looked along the road as far -as she could see, she returned to the farm to make her report. It was -now agreed that Iola, and her attendant, should still remain for half -an hour, as the girl had seen a number of stragglers on the road; and -while Ibn Ayoub went to prepare the horses, the good dame endeavoured, -to the best of her power, to give Iola an accurate notion of the -various paths she was to follow, to reach Lichfield by the least -dangerous roads. Iola bent all her attention to her lesson; but, at -length, she suddenly interrupted the good woman in her detail, -saying-- - -"Oh, I know that spot well, where there are the three stone mounting -steps, and the great cross above them. One road leads to St. Clare, of -Atherston, and the other to Tamworth." - -"And the little one on the left straight to Lichfield," replied the -good woman. "It is the same distance from each, just seven miles and a -furlong. If you were to go on the Tamworth road, you would have Fazely -close upon your left. As you go to Lichfield, you will leave it four -miles upon your right." - -The horses were soon after brought round. The adieus were spoken. The -good farmer's wife would receive no recompense for the entertainment -which she had afforded to Iola. But a small brooch, which the lady -took from her hood, and bestowed upon the daughter, was more than -compensation for everything but the kindness and tenderness which -nothing could repay; and, with a motherly blessing upon her head, as -she departed, Iola waved her hand, and once more rode upon her -journey. - - - - -CHAPTER XLVI. - - -On the evening of the nineteenth of August, and at the hour of -half-past six, was seen riding alone, through the woodland, then lying -about three miles to the right of the direct road from Lichfield to -Tamworth, a gentleman mounted on a powerful black horse. No pleasant -ride was it he was taking; for by this time, one of those violent -thunder storms which so frequently interrupt the brief course of an -English summer, and which were both more severe and more frequent when -the land was better wooded than it is at present, had broke upon the -earth, after it had been menacing in the sky all the morning. I am -fond of describing thunder storms, having watched many a one in all -its changes for hours; and there is infinite variety in them too, so -that a dozen might be described, and no two alike; but, as I have done -so more than once before, I would certainly have said nothing of this -storm, had it not been an historical one, and connected with an -incident of some interest in English history. Suffice it, however, -that the thunder seemed to shake the very earth, rattling amongst the -trees of the forest as if immense masses of stone had been cast -through them by some tremendous engine. The lightning gleamed all -around, before, behind, overhead, in amongst the trees, under the -green leaves and boughs seeming to display for an instant all the dark -recesses of the forest, as if they had been suddenly lighted up by a -thousand torches, and then leaving them in blacker shade than before. -For the roar of the thunder, for the flash of the lightning, that -traveller would have cared very little; but for the increasing -darkness of the day, which seemed to anticipate the setting of the -sun, and for the deluge which poured from the sky, drenching himself, -his horse, and his accoutrements, he did care. Had there been any -wind, the rain would have been blinding; but it came pouring down in -such torrents, straight, even, unceasing, that what between the -failing light, the vapour rising from the hot ground, and the -incessant dark drops, it was impossible to see for more than a hundred -or a hundred and fifty yards along the road. - -Yet the traveller turned his head often as he rode, looking hither and -thither, wherever any opening in the wood appeared; and he went slowly -too, as if he were in no haste, or uncertain of the way. Still, as he -proceeded, he murmured to himself. - -"This is most unfortunate. Perhaps 'twere better to go back; and yet, -in this blinding deluge, I might again miss the road, and wander -Heaven knows whither. What will they think too? Would to Heaven I had -brought the boy with me! True, he never was in this place in his life -before, any more than myself; but he seemed to have an instinct in -finding his way." - -He rode on for about ten minutes more, and then exclaimed joyfully: - -"There are some felled trees! There may be a woodman's cottage or some -forest but near--a horse, upon my life, and a woman's garments under -that shed. Woman, with all her faults, is ever a friend to the -distressed, a help in the time of peril;" and, turning his horse out -of the path, he rode quickly over some cleared ground, man[oe]uvring -skilfully amongst the felled trees and stumps with which the spot was -encumbered. - -His course was directed towards a little open shed, into one side of -which the rain drove furiously; but immediately in the way, at the -distance of only a few feet from the shed itself, was a deep sawpit, -at either end of which were piles of timber, which he could not pass -without going round. Just opposite, however, under the partial shelter -which the shed afforded, was the form he had seen from the road; and -close by was the horse, a beautiful animal of pure Arab blood, covered -with splendid housings of velvet and gold, which were getting soaked -in the descending deluge. All that he could see of the woman was, -that, in figure, she was slight and graceful; for her hood was drawn -far over her head; and she stood in the farther part of the shed to -avoid the rain as much as possible. Her riding-suit, however, spoke no -lowly station; and it was with a tone of gentlemanly deference that -the stranger accosted her. - -"Pardon me for addressing you, lady," he said; "for necessity compels -me to do so; and yet I fear, from finding you taking refuge here, that -my application will be fruitless. I have lost my way in this wood; and -I would fain know if I am near Tamworth, or if there be any place -where I can obtain shelter in the neighbourhood." - -"You are far from Tamworth," said a sweet musical voice, "five or six -miles at least; and as to shelter, I have just sent an attendant to -see if there be any better place than this within a short distance. I, -myself, am not aware of any. He will be back immediately," she added; -"for I told him not to go far." - -Perhaps there was a little apprehension in the latter part of her -reply; for, although the dress of the stranger was that of a high -rank, and his demeanour courteous, yet still he was a stranger; and, -to say truth, his features and expression, though not marked by any -violent passions, and hardly to be called repulsive, were not -altogether prepossessing. - -"If you will permit me," he said, "I will wait till your attendant -returns, and crave a part of the roof that covers you." - -What she replied he did not hear; for, at that instant, there was a -bright flash of lightning, which caused her to hide her eyes with her -hand, followed instantly by a tremendous roar of the thunder that -drowned every other sound. Before the rattling peal had ceased, for it -seemed to go round and round the whole sky, the stranger was by her -side, dismounted, and tying his horse at some distance from her own; -and Iola, with her eyes unshrouded, was examining his appearance -attentively. He was a man in the prime of life, tall and well formed, -but spare in person, and somewhat thin in face. The features were -good, but somewhat stern in character, with a forehead broad and high, -and a slight wrinkle between the brows. The whole expression was grave -and thoughtful, with a slight touch of shrewdness, and a cold, -inquiring, calculating eye. The second look, however, was more -satisfactory to Iola than the first had been. That grave, even stern, -looking man, was far more acceptable to her, as a companion at that -moment, than one of the gay light flutterers of the court would have -been. When his horse had been secured, the stranger pulled off his -hat, which was of a foreign fashion, and shook the wet from the broad -border and the plume; and then, turning to the lady, he said: - -"I fear I break in upon your privacy; but I am sure your kindness will -forgive it, and trust that, if you have it in your power to give me -any information or direction, you will do so. Your own heart will -thank you; for it will be indeed a charity, and I shall be most -grateful." - -"I know nothing of your need, sir," replied Iola. "All you have told -me is your wish to reach Tamworth, which is far. If you will tell me -what other information you may want, I will give it willingly, though -I know but little with any certainty." - -"Business of importance, indeed, carries me to Tamworth," he answered; -"and I ought to have been there ere now; but we live in dangerous -times, and the country is in a troublous state, so that at every step -one may stumble upon some body of hostile troops." - -"That is true," replied Iola; "for I am seeking, myself, to get beyond -these two lines of adversaries. If I knew which you had to fear, -perhaps I might give you information." - -The stranger smiled. "Can you not tell me, in general terms, what you -know of the two armies?" he asked. "Then I may be able to judge." - -"You fear to speak your faction to me," answered Iola; "and therein -you do me wrong; for, believe me, if you were king Richard himself, I -would not betray you to your enemy; nor, if the earl of Richmond, to -king Richard. Yet, perhaps, you are wise to keep your own counsel." - -"I have always found it so," said the other, with a laugh. "Not that I -doubt you, dear lady; for you do not look like one who would injure -any one. But you can, as I have said, tell me generally." - -"Well, then, I learn," said Iola, "that the king is at Leicester with -a large force, the earl of Richmond at Lichfield; Sir William Stanley, -on his march to join the king, moved yesterday to Atherston and the -Lord Stanley sought to pass through Fazely this morning, just between -us and Tamworth. Whether he passed or not I cannot tell." - -"Retiring before the earl of Richmond's army," said the stranger, -musing. "But why think you he did not pass?" - -"Because there were other troops in the village," answered Iola, "some -three or four hundred men, I learned, under the Lord Chartley." - -"Then is Chartley at Fazely?" exclaimed the other, with a glad look. -"How far is Fazely hence, dear lady?" - -"About three or four miles, I am told," answered Iola; "but I know not -that Lord Chartley is there now. When I came thence this morning, the -troops of Lord Stanley demanded admission, and were refused. Strife -was likely to ensue; and I was told to fly and seek safety at -Lichfield." - -"Then now I know who you are," said the stranger, taking her hand; -"the Lady Iola St. Leger. Is it not so? I am a friend of Lord -Chartley's; and he wrote, to me, that he and you would be at Lichfield -to-night." - -Iola blushed, she hardly knew why, and, when the thunder had ceased -echoing, replied, - -"You have guessed right, sir; but I knew not that Lord Chartley had -written to any one. May I not know your name?" - -The stranger paused for a moment thoughtfully, and then answered, "You -will think me discourteous; but yet, methinks, the rule I have laid -down it were best to adhere to. Much depends upon prudence in my case; -and it were better to be over discreet than rash." - -"Then, my good lord, I know you too," replied Iola, with one of her -gay looks, beaming up for an instant, and then disappearing again like -a meteor over the night sky. "Shall I tell you whom I believe you to -be?" - -"No," replied the stranger. "That might make me more discourteous -still, and neither answer yes or no to your surmise. But deal with me -merely as a friend of the Lord Chartley's, who wishes him well--as one -linked in the same cause with him, whose enemies are his enemies, and -let me hear anything you may judge necessary for me to know." - -"I am quite sure I am right," answered Iola; "although it is a mystery -to me how you came hither alone, unattended, and certainly in a place -of danger." - -"Good faith, it is a mystery to me too," replied the other; "but a -simple mystery, dear lady, and a foolish one. The truth is, I lost my -way. Now tell me, think you, from what you know, that I can cross -safely from this place to Tamworth?" - -"No, indeed, my lord," replied Iola. "Lord Stanley's troops are most -likely in possession of Fazely; for I much fear that Lord Chartley's -men would be soon overpowered." - -"Then why did Chartley refuse to let him pass?" demanded the stranger. -"All that Stanley could desire was to retreat in peace; but he was -compelled to clear a passage, at any risk, otherwise the earl's army -would cut him off from the king's host." - -"Lord Chartley was not there," said Iola. "He had gone forth, they -informed me, early in the morning, and had not then returned; but I -can tell you little of the matter, for orders had been left to hurry -me away in case of danger. However, if even you could pass Fazely, and -could reach Tamworth, you would be in more danger still: for parties -of the king's troops were in possession of that place at a late hour -last night." - -"They have been removed farther back," said the stranger, nodding his -head significantly; "and Stanley is in full retreat too, if this -unfortunate affair has not delayed him. Yet, it would be dangerous to -attempt to pass," he continued, musing; "for there is something -strange here; and one error were fatal. I must have farther -intelligence before I act." - -"I trust we may have some soon," answered Iola; "for I know the slave -will not return without gathering tidings, if it be possible to get -them. I wish he would come, for, though it thunders less, the evening -is growing dark." - -"Be not alarmed," replied the stranger. "As far as one arm can, I will -protect you, lady. I hold that point of chivalry to be the great and -most essential one, without which valour is the mere brute courage of -a bull, that teaches us to right the wronged, and to protect the -weak." - -"I trust you are reserved for nobler things than even that, my lord," -replied Iola, "and would not have you risk your life in my defence. -'Tis only that I may have to ride to Lichfield, through this dark -stormy night which makes me fear." - -"Better not ride to Lichfield, at all," replied the stranger, "for -Lord Chartley's plans must have been altered by one circumstance or -another. He knew not yesterday that the earl of Richmond was to be at -Tamworth this night." - -"I am but as a soldier, noble lord," replied Iola, with a faint smile, -"and must obey my orders. But, hark! I hear a horse's feet--my -faithful Arab, come to bring me news." - -"God send the tidings be good," said her companion; and, advancing to -the other end of the shed, he exclaimed: "Heaven, what is this? In -this twilight, it seems like a spectre in a shroud!" - -The next instant Ibn Ayoub rode up to the side of the shed, and sprang -to the ground casting the bridle free upon his horse's neck. He glared -for an instant at the stranger, with his black eyes flashing with -eagerness; and, then turning to Iola, he put his hand upon his head, -saying: "I have been long, lady; but, I could not help it. There is -neither house nor hut, for a mile and a half; and Heaven was sending -down streams of fire and water all the way." - -"But what news from Fazely, Ibn Ayoub? What news from Fazely?" asked -Iola, eagerly. - -The Arab gave a glance to the stranger, and she added: "Speak, speak! -You may speak freely. This gentleman is a friend. I know him." - -"Well, then, lady, bad news," answered the Arab. "Lord Stanley had -taken the place, and gone on to Atherston. His rear guard hold it -still, however." - -"But was there strife?" asked Iola, in eager terror. - -"No," answered the Arab. "They dealt in words it seems; and when they -found that this lord had two thousand men and they but three hundred, -they gave up the place, upon condition that they might have half an -hour to go whithersoever they would." - -"But your lord, your lord?" asked Iola. "Had you no tidings of him?" - -"God is good; I heard not of him," said Ibn Ayoub. "The woman of the -house is all for king Richard, and could talk of nought but what Lord -Stanley did, and told me how Lord Fulmer's force had marched out of -Tamworth, going to join the king, and now lay a few miles off at a -place they call Pondhead." - -"What shall we do then?" demanded Iola, in a tone of fear and -bewilderment. "I know not where Pondhead is; and it may lie straight -in our way to Lichfield." - -"You had better come to that house," said Ibn Ayoub, "and rest there -for the night. The woman has a heart, though as turned the wrong way; -and the lad, her son, seems a good youth. When I told her a lady was -here in the wood, she cried out at once to bring you there for -shelter, and offered all her house could afford, without asking -whether you were for the king or the earl. I told her afterwards, -indeed, that your uncle was at the court, and high in favour. I would -not tell a lie; but that was the truth and could do no harm." - -"Much good," said the stranger, now joining in the conversation for -the first time. "I fear this storm will last all night; and you must -have shelter. So, indeed, must I, for I must not venture rashly to -Tamworth till I hear more. I will now seek a boon at your hands. Let -me go with you, as one of your attendants. Pass me as such on the good -woman of the house--" - -"You, my lord--you!" cried Iola; "will you venture thither?" - -"Even so," he answered, calmly, "if you will so far favour me as to -take me with you. I may return the kindness another day. If you have -any fear, however, that I may bring danger on you, I will not go." - -"Oh no, 'twas not for that I feared," replied Iola. "'Twas the great -risk to yourself. I thought of." - -"No great risk, I trust," answered the other. "My face will not betray -me in this part of the world: The night is too nigh for strangers to -come in; and what this good man has said will smooth the way for us. I -can talk deftly of the good Lord Calverly, and speak of Richard's -overwhelming force, and Richmond's little band, as calm and scornfully -as Lovell or Catesby, nor ever seem to think that right and justice, -and God's vengeful strength, can make head against a glittering army -and a kingly crown. Let us go on. I can play my part well. Do not -forget yours, however. Speak to me, order me as a gentleman of your -uncle's household, and, above all forget the words 'my lord.' This -night, at least, we will dry our garments by the fire.--To-morrow, my -resting place may be a damper one." - -"But by what name shall I call you?" asked Iola. - -"Call me Harry--Harry Vane," answered her companion; "but, I beseech -you, remember that all depends on care and prudence; and if I make any -mistake in my due service, rate me well. Be a mere shrew towards me -for this night, though you be gentle as a dove, to my good friend Lord -Chartley." - -With many doubts and apprehensions, Iola yielded to the plan, and, -mounting her horse, rode through the still pouring rain, with the -stranger by her side and Ibn Ayoub directing them on the way. Many -things were arranged as they went, and the good Arab cautioned, which -indeed he did not require. They did not reach the door of the house, -to which he led them, before the sun had completely set; but as they -turned towards the west, they saw a golden gleam on the horizon's -edge, and showing that the storm was breaking away. - -Timidly, Iola opened the door of the house, which was a large one for -the times and the class of people to which it belonged, while the Arab -gathered the bridles of the horses on his arm, and the stranger -followed a step behind the lady. The scene within alarmed her more -than ever; for it was not like the little quiet farm house she had -visited in the morning. The outer door opened at once into the -kitchen, a large dingy room well grimed with smoke; and round a table -sat three or four stout, heavy-looking, countrymen, together with a -handsome youth, somewhat better dressed, while two or three young -girls were working busily at various household matters, and a stout -dame, with gown tucked up, was taking off, with her own hands, a heavy -pot, from a hook that suspended it above the fire. - -"Hey, mother, mother!" cried the young man, turning round his head, -"here's the lady the brown man told you of." - -"Ha," said the good woman, setting down the pot and gazing at Iola -with a look of wonder, either at her beauty or the richness of her -apparel. "Well, I wot you are not fit, my lady, to pass the night in -woods and thunderstorms." - -"No, indeed," answered Iola. "One of my attendants told me you would -kindly give me shelter for the night, and I will most gladly pay for -any accommodation I receive. I was making my way to Lichfield, -thinking to escape from all these scenes of strife; but it is too -late, I find, to go on." - -"Ay, that it is," answered the bluff dame; and, at the same moment, -the stranger whispered-- - -"A prouder tone, a prouder tone." - -"Set me a seat by the fire, Harry Vane," said Iola, with a somewhat -queenly manner; "and then call in the slave. He is wetter than we -are." - -The stranger hastened to obey; and the good woman of the house laid -fresh wood upon the fire, aided to remove Iola's hood and cloak, and -offered all attention. - -The loftier tone had its effect; for it is a sad truth, that nothing -is obtained in this world--not even respect--without exaction. Modest -merit! alack and a well-a-day, who seeks for it? and, if not sought, -it cannot be found. One's pretensions should ever be a little more -than one's right--not too much indeed, for then, we shock our great -chapman, the world--but always enough to allow for abatement. The -world will always make it; and such is worldly wisdom. - -However that may be, there was no lack of kindness and hospitality. -The guests were entertained with the best which the house afforded; -the horses were fed and tended under Ibn Ayoub's own eye, for they -were to him as children; and the good dame and her daughters busied -themselves to provide for Iola's comfort, tendering dry garments of -their own, with many apologies for their coarseness, and admissions -that they were unfit for such a great lady to wear. - -While she was absent from the room, submitting to these cares, her son -conversed with the stranger; and even the ploughmen joined in to ask -questions concerning the movements of the armies, and their probable -result. He played his part well, and with a shrug of the shoulders -said, nobody could tell what might be the event. Richmond's army was -but a pitiful handful, it was true; but it was increasing daily, and -if the king did not force him to a battle soon, the two hosts might be -nearly equal. Then again, he added, suspicions were entertained that -some of the great nobles were not well affected to the king. - -"Why does not the earl of Northumberland bring up his forces?" he -asked. "It is well known that he could lead six or seven thousand men -into the field; and there they are, either lingering in the North, or -advancing by such slow marches, that a dozen battles might be fought -while they are on the way. For my part, I hold it better not to be -over zealous for any one. None can tell who may win at this rough game -of war; and the lower ones are always losers. If we take the luckless -side, then we have fines and confiscations for our pains, and if we -help the winner we get but cold thanks, when he has secured the game. -I will have nought to do with it, and was right glad when I was sent -to guard my young lady to Lichfield." - -About an hour and a half was passed, in a hurried desultory kind of -way, and then Iola sought repose. The stranger was provided with a bed -in a room below, and a sleeping-place was offered to Ibn Ayoub in a -room over the stables. He would not use it, however; but, bringing in -some dry straw, he placed it across Iola's door, and there lay down to -rest. There might be a struggle in his mind, between her and the -horses; but duty won the day. - -For the next six hours Iola rested indeed, but slept little; for the -spirit was busy if the body found repose. Whatever faith and trust in -God may do, we all know that there are sufferings to be endured, from -which our mortal nature shrinks, evils to be undergone that wring the -heart of clay; and though 'twere wiser never to dream they may be, -till they are, importunate experience will not let us rest in such -bright though fanciful security. If imagination be vivid, all -probable, all possible ills are called up to frighten us. If reason be -predominant, still we count the numbers of those enemies, to meet them -as we may. Iola's thoughts were of Chartley all the night long. -Waking, she tormented herself with doubt and apprehension for his -safety, and sleeping, she dreamed of him, and fancied he was in -captivity or dead. It was a relief to her when morning dawned; and she -rose. The house was soon in all the busy bustle of a country life, and -people were heard coming and going long before Iola had quitted her -room. - -When at length she went down, however, she found all the men absent on -their work; and the first greeting of the good dame was, "Ah, lady, -lucky you stopped here, or you might have been caught. The earl of -Richmond and his rabble are all in Tamworth and the villages round. -Fazely is full of his men; and Lord Stanley has retreated to -Atherston. However, if you go on the road you were travelling, you -will now get to Lichfield quite safe; for they march on quite orderly -'tis said; more so than our own people do, indeed." - -"How many are there?" asked Iola. "Have you heard?" - -"Well, nigh twenty thousand men, they say," replied the good woman; -"but there is never believing such tales. Now, I will help you to -break your fast in a minute, and send you on your way; for there is no -knowing whether we may not have some of the rebels here before long." - -"Where are my servants?" asked Iola. "They must have some food too." - -"Oh, they will come, they will come," said the dame. "They are looking -to the horses. Mag, go and call them." - -The meal was soon despatched, the horses brought round, and Iola's -purse produced to make payment for her entertainment. Here it was not -refused; for the mistress of the house was a prudent and careful -person, who lost no opportunity of taking money where she could. - -They rode away with many adieus and wishes for their fair journey, and -the morning was bright and clear. But as soon as they had reached the -public road again, Iola checked her horse, saying, "Ride on a few -yards, Ibn Ayoub;" and then, turning to the stranger, she added, "I -know not whether the information is to be depended on, my lord; but -the good woman told me just now, that the earl of Richmond's army is -at Tamworth, and the villages round, even at Fazely. All king -Richard's troops are withdrawn, she says. So, if you can trust her -report, your way is clear." - -"I saw a peasant come in from the north with a load of wood," said the -stranger; "but I did not venture either to stay or ask any questions; -for the man eyed me strongly. Be the tale true or false, however, the -result must be risked. I can be no longer absent. To you, dear lady, I -have to return my most sincere thanks, for giving me what aid you -could in a very dangerous situation." - -"Speak not of that, my lord," replied Iola; "but yet one word before -you go. I am terrified and apprehensive regarding Lord Chartley. I -know not what may have befallen him. I do beseech you, if you can find -time when you reach Tamworth, inquire into his fate, and should you -find him in difficulty, or danger, aid him to the best of your power. -It would quiet many a painful thought too, if I could have -intelligence at Lichfield." - -"I promise you upon my faith and word, dear lady," said her companion, -riding closer and kissing her hand; "nought shall be left undone to -aid him to the best of my power. Ay, and I will send you news too. So, -now farewell; and God's protection be around you." - -"And you," said Iola. Thus they parted.[5] - - --------------------- - -[Footnote 5: This singular adventure of the earl of Richmond, when on -his way between Lichfield and Tamworth, and the fact of his passing -the night at a farm house, are not inventions of a romance writer, but -historical facts.] - --------------------- - - - - -CHAPTER XLVII. - - -Come back with me, dear reader, come back with me both in time and -space; for we must return to the morning before, and to the little -hill-top--not far from the spot where the road to Tamworth and to -Fazely separates--over which, at that time, spread brown turf, green -gorse, and a few patches of stunted heath, with here and there a -hawthorn, rugged and thorny, like a cankered disposition. There is a -man on horseback at the top of the mound; and he looks, first eagerly -towards Tamworth, then at the sun, just rising over the distant -slopes. Lo, two or three horsemen coming on the road from Tamworth! -All stop but one, and turn back. The one comes forward at fiery speed, -quits the road, gallops up the hill, and stands fronting the other. - -"Good morrow, my Lord Fulmer," said Chartley. "I am here alone. No one -knows of my being here. You have brought men with you along the road." - -"They have gone back to Tamworth," replied Lord Fulmer, with a look of -fierce satisfaction upon his brow. "I take no advantage, Lord -Chartley. It is quite satisfaction enough to me to have you here at my -sword's point, without my seeking to punish you otherwise. Come, draw, -my lord, and take your last look of earth; for either you or I quit -not this spot alive." - -"On horseback, then?" said Chartley. "So be it;" and he drew his -sword. - -Lord Fulmer wheeled his horse a little, to gain ground, and then -spurred furiously on his adversary, his strong charger coming forward -with tremendous force. Chartley's was a lighter horse, but far more -agile; and, knowing that it would not stand the shock, he drew the -right rein, and struck the beast's flank with the left spur. The horse -passaged suddenly to the right; and Lord Fulmer was borne past, aiming -a blow at Chartley's head as he went. The other, however, parried it -with a cool smile, and then wheeling suddenly upon him, in a manner he -had learned in other lands, met him, in the act of turning, and, -striking him in the throat with the pommel of his sword, hurled him -backwards out of the saddle. - -The moment this was done, he sprang to the ground; but Fulmer was -already on his feet, and ready to attack his adversary sword in hand. - -"A pitiful mountebank's trick," he cried, "unworthy of a knight and -gentleman." - -"I would fain spare your life, boy," cried Chartley, somewhat angry at -his insulting words. - -"I will not hold it at your pleasure," returned Fulmer, attacking him -furiously, with his dagger in one hand, and his sword in the other. -The combat was now somewhat more equal, though Chartley was the -stronger man, and the better swordsman; but, to use a common -expression, he gave many a chance away, unwilling that men should say -he had slain Lord Fulmer, to obtain his contracted bride. For several -minutes he stood upon the defensive, watching an opportunity to wound -or disarm his foe. But even a calm and patient spirit, which -Chartley's was not, will get heated under strife like that. Soon he -began to return the blows, and the contest waxed fierce and strong; -but, even in his heat. Chartley forgot not his skill; and Fulmer did. -A conviction, a dark and fearful conviction, which vanity had hidden -from him before, that he was no match for the man to whom he was -opposed, began to mingle with his anger. The blows that fell about him -like rain, the thrusts that he could hardly parry, confused his mind -and dazzled his sight. He was driven round and round, back upon the -side of the hill, where the footing was unsteady; and then suddenly he -felt his guard beat down; a strong grasp was laid upon his throat, and -once more he was hurled prostrate on the turf. His sword was lost, the -hand which held his dagger mastered, and, when he looked up, he saw -the blade of Chartley's _miséricorde_ raised high and gleaming above -his head. Chartley paused for an instant. The better spirit came to -his aid; and, still holding tight the fallen man's left wrist, with -his knee upon his chest, he brushed back the curls of hair from his -own forehead, with the hand that held the dagger. At that instant he -heard a sound behind him, which, in the eagerness of the strife, he -had not before noticed, and in an instant his arms were seized. - -Shaking off the grasp laid upon him, as he started up, he turned -fiercely and indignantly round. Ten or twelve men on foot and -horseback were now around him; and, with a withering glance at Lord -Fulmer, who by this time had risen on his knee, Chartley exclaimed, -"Cowardly traitor, is this your good faith?" - -"On my honour, on my soul!" exclaimed Lord Fulmer, rising and passing -his hand across his eyes, as if his sight were dim, "I have no share -in this. These people are none of mine." - -"What would you, sirs?" exclaimed Chartley, as the men advanced towards -him again, "Keep back, for I am not to be laid hands on lightly." - -"Stay, stay," cried one of the men on horseback, riding forward. "Your -name is Lord Chartley, or I much mistake--nay, I know it is; for I -have seen you often at the court. Yield to the king's officer. I am -commanded to apprehend you, and carry you to the nearest post of the -royal troops. We have pursued you hither from St. Clare, and have come -just in time, it seems. Do you yield, my lord, or must I use force?" - -Resistance was in vain; and, with a heavy heart, Chartley replied, "I -yield, of course, to the king's pleasure. What have I done that should -cause his grace to treat me thus?" - -"He was informed, my lord," replied the officer, "that you were -leading your men straight to the army of the rebel Richmond." - -"Or rather, you should say, straight towards the forces of the good -Lord Stanley. Upon my life 'twill make a goodly tale, to hear that the -king imprisons those who go to meet his foes, and honours those who -run away before them." - -"There are some other matters too against you, sir," replied the -officer. "Reports have come from a good man, lately the bailiff of the -abbey of St. Clare, tending to show that you have had schemes in hand, -contrary to the king's good pleasure. If you were going to Lord -Stanley, however, in that matter you can soon exculpate yourself, as -into his hands I shall deliver you, his being the nearest force at -this moment. Pray mount your horse, my lord. Some one take up his -sword and give it me." - -During all this time, Lord Fulmer had stood by, with his eyes bent -down and his arms folded; but now, as if with a sudden emotion, he -started forward to Chartley's side, exclaiming, "Upon my honour and my -conscience, I have had nought to do with this." - -Chartley sprang into the saddle, and gave him a look of scorn, saying, -"My noble lord, it is mighty strange they should know the day, and -hour, and place where to fall on me, many against one. Had I not come -hither to meet you, they would have found me with good three hundred -spears, and might have bethought them once or twice, before they -judged it fit to tell me such a tale. Now, sir, which way? I am your -humble varlet." - -"To the right," said the officer; and the whole party moved on upon -the road to Atherston. - -Chartley was in no mood for conversation; but with his head bent, and -his heart full of bitter disappointment, he rode slowly forward with -the soldiers, half inclined, at the turning of every road they passed, -to put spurs to his horse, and see whether he could not distance his -captors. But, as if judging that such an attempt was likely, wherever -an opportunity presented itself, one of the soldiers rode forward to -his right hand or his left; and he saw that several of the footmen, -who were archers, kept their bows bent and their arrows on the string. - -At length there was a sound of horse, coming at a quick pace behind; -and a party of some two hundred men, all clad in glittering armour, -and bearing a banner at their head, rode by at a rapid trot, going in -the same direction as themselves, and only turning their heads to look -at the small party as they passed by. - -The officer, however, who rode by Chartley's side, instantly shouted -loudly, "Lord Stanley, Lord Stanley!" and then spurred on. Chartley -saw him speak to a gentleman at the head of the other troop, who -seemed to wait and to listen with impatience; for his gestures were -quick and sharp, and he soon rode on again. The officer immediately -returned, and, ordering the archers to follow as speedily as they -might, he said, "Now, my lord, we must gallop forward to Atherston." - -He then put his troop at once into a more rapid pace, and rode after -the body of horse which had gone on. - -"Did Lord Stanley say aught regarding me?" asked Chartley, when they -had nearly overtaken the others. - -"Ay, my lord, he did," replied the officer, in a gruff tone. "He said -your men opposed the passage of his force through Fazely this morning, -but that he had driven them out, and let them go, for, friends or -enemies, 'twas no matter, they were but a handful." - -"'Twas by no orders of mine," answered Chartley. "Had I been there, it -would not have happened." - -"That you must explain yourself, my lord," answered the officer. "I -only do my duty, and that with no good will." - -At the pace they went, a very short space of time brought them to -Atherston; and at the door of an old-fashioned inn, which then stood -there, and in which Chartley had lodged for some weeks, Lord Stanley -sprang to the ground, saluted by a number of gentlemen and soldiers, -by whom the little town was already occupied. He spoke for a moment or -two to one of them, and then entered the inn, saying aloud, "That will -do--only set a guard;" and the gentleman whom he addressed immediately -advanced to the spot where Chartley still sat upon his horse, saying, -"Your lordship must follow me. I am sorry that I must place a guard -over you." - -"Can I not speak with Lord Stanley?" demanded Chartley. - -"Not at present, my good lord," replied the gentleman. "He is full of -business. The king marches from Leicester to-morrow; and we must not -be tardy." - -Chartley made no reply, but followed in bitter silence, passing -through the groups of gazing idlers round the inn-door, to a room up -one flight of stairs, where some of his own servants used to sleep. -There he was left alone, with the door locked and barred upon him. A -moment after, he heard the tread of a sentry, and then the voice of -some one speaking from a window to a person in the street, and saying, -"Hie away to the king, and tell him you have caught him. Beseech his -grace to send me orders what I am to do with him, for I have no -instructions. Add that I will send in our muster-roll to-night." - -Chartley mused over what he heard. The words evidently applied to him; -and he asked himself what would be the result of the message. The fate -of Gray, Vaughan, Hastings, Rivers, Buckingham, warned him of what was -likely to befall him; short shrift and speedy death. All the bright -visions had vanished; the gay and sparkling hopes that danced in his -bosom on the preceding night were still. If death is terrible, how -much more terrible when he comes to put his icy barrier between us and -near anticipated joys. Chartley could have died in the field with -hardly a regret, but the cold unhonoured death of the headsman's axe, -the inglorious unresisting fall, it was full of horrors to him. Yet he -nerved his spirit to bear it as became him; and he communed with and -schooled his own heart for many a live-long hour. The minutes crept on -minutes, the shadow wandered along the wall, a thunderstorm closed the -day, and the rain poured down in torrents. Chartley marked not the -minutes, saw not the shadow, hardly heard the storm that raged -without. He thought of Iola; and he asked his heart, "What will become -of her?" - -They brought him food; but he hardly tasted it, and wine, but he knew -there was no consolation there; and when the sun went down, he crossed -his arms upon his chest, and, gazing forth from the window, said to -himself, "Perchance it is the last that will ever set for me." - -Shortly after, alight was brought him; and he asked if he could get -paper and pen and ink; but the man went away, saying he would see, and -did not return. - -The whole night passed. There was no bed in the room; and though once -or twice his eyes closed in sleep for a few minutes, with his arms -leaning on the table, yet it was but to wake up again with a start. -The next morning, dawned fair, but for some hours no one came near -him. At length food was again brought, but the man who carried it -either would not or could not answer any questions, and the day rolled -on, chequered by sounds and sights in the streets, such as commonly -are heard and seen in a small town filled with soldiery. - -It was a long and weary day, however; and Chartley's heart fell under -the most wearing of all things--unoccupied solitude; but, at length, -the sky grew grey, and night and darkness came on. - -Nearly an hour then passed in utter silence; and the whole house -seemed so quiet that Chartley could hardly imagine that Lord Stanley -and his train still remained there. But at the end of that time he -heard a quick step, the challenge of the sentry at his door, and then -the pass-word, "The Crown." The next instant the door opened, and Lord -Stanley himself appeared. - -There was but slight acquaintance between him and Chartley; and his -brow was thoughtful and anxious, boding no good, the young nobleman -thought. - -"I grieve, my lord," he said, closing the door behind him, "that it -has not been in my power to see you sooner, and grieve still more to -be your jailer; but I have no choice, and better perhaps it is that -you should fall into my hands than those of an enemy." - -"Much better," answered Chartley, courteously; "but imprisonment is -hard at any time; and now I have a pass under your own hand sent me by -a mutual friend. I beseech you to think of this circumstance, and not -to detain me here, to my peril and great loss of time." - -Lord Stanley seemed a good deal agitated, by feelings he did not -explain; for he walked once or twice up and down the room without -reply; and Chartley went on to say, "I have not mentioned this pass, -or the letter which accompanied it, to any one, lest by so doing I -might injure you much, and a cause I have much at heart." - -Stanley approached close to him, and laid his hand upon his arm, -replying with great earnestness, but in a very low tone, "My dear -lord, I freely tell you, that I would let you escape within half an -hour, were the danger only to myself; but the truth is, my son's life -is in peril. The king keeps him as a hostage at the court. He is never -for a moment out of some one's sight, and if I but trip in the -hazardous path I have to tread, I am made childless in an hour. But -tell me, my good lord, how happened it that your men refused me a -passage through Fazely yesterday?" - -"I know not," answered Chartley; "some foolish mistake, I suppose, for -I myself was not present;" and he proceeded to relate all that had -occurred to him since he left Fazely. - -"'Tis most unfortunate," said Stanley; "but still, till the very last -moment, I must either obey the orders of the king, whatever they may -be, or be the murderer of my own child. If he should bid me put you in -still stricter confinement, or send you on at once to him--which were -indeed ruin to my hopes for you--yet I must obey. The mere confinement -here is no great evil. Your men have by this time joined the earl of -Richmond; and though, doubtless, you would wish to lead them yourself, -yet, if you lose glory, you will escape some danger and hard blows." - -"Ay, my good lord," said Chartley, "but there are other perils too. -What if Richard orders you to put me to death?" - -"You must have form of trial," said Stanley. - -"None was granted to Buckingham, nor to many another I could name," -answered the young nobleman. - -"Now God forfend," cried his companion; "but yet, my lord, think what -a son's life is to a father; and judge in my situation what I could -do. Hark!" he added, "there is a horse's feet below. Perchance it is -the messenger returned. We shall soon know." - -An interval of gloomy silence succeeded, each listening with anxious -and attentive ear. They could hear some words spoken, but could not -distinguish what they were. Then came a step upon the somewhat distant -stairs, and then in the passage. The sentry gave the challenge; and -some one, in a rough loud tone, demanded to speak with Lord Stanley, -adding, "They say he is up here." - -Stanley instantly rose and went out, and Chartley could hear him -demand, though in a low voice, "Well, what says the king?" - -"As to the musters, my lord, he says that noon to-morrow will be time -enough," replied the same rough tone; "and as to the prisoner, he -says, 'Strike off his head before breakfast; there are proofs of -treason against him.'" - -Stanley muttered something to himself which Chartley did not hear, and -then came a pause; but at length the steps were heard receding, and -Lord Stanley did not again appear. - -"It is determined," said Chartley to himself. "Well, death can come -but once. What matters it, the axe, or the spear point? but yet, poor -Iola! This room is very hot, I shall be stifled here, and disappoint -them;" and, walking to the window, he threw it open and looked out. - -The room was a considerable height above the street, and to leap or -drop from it might have risked the breaking of a leg or of a neck. -Nevertheless, Chartley perhaps might have tried it, but there was a -still more serious impediment. Two sentinels were stationed at the -door, and walked up and down before the house, passing and repassing -beneath his window. There were numerous groups, too, talking together -in the narrow road, notwithstanding the darkness of the night, which, -though fair and starlit, was quite moonless. A lantern passed along -from time to time, and Chartley easily conceived that there would not -be much repose in Atherston till dawn. The hope of escape faded. - -In a few minutes the sound of horses' feet was heard at some distance. -They came nearer and nearer, and Chartley could just see the figures -of three mounted men ride up to the house, and there draw in the rein. - -The foremost, without dismounting, asked the sentry, "Is the Lord -Stanley quartered here?" - -"Yes," replied the man; "but he is gone to repose, I think." - -"Tell him I am a messenger from his brother, bringing news of -importance, which must be delivered to himself alone," said the other. - -As he spoke he began to dismount slowly; and while one of the two men -who accompanied him took the bridle, the third sprang with great -alacrity to hold the stirrup, showing, as Chartley thought, reverence -somewhat extraordinary for a mere messenger. The soldier at the door -called out somebody from within, who seemed to be a domestic servant -of Lord Stanley's; and the moment the man beheld the messenger's face, -he said, "Oh, come in, sir, come in. My lord will see you instantly." -The stranger followed him into the house, while his two companions -walked his horse up and down the road. - -About half an hour elapsed ere the messenger came out again; and then, -springing on his horse at once, he rode away at a quick pace. - -A few minutes after this, Chartley's dark reveries were interrupted by -two men bringing in a truckle bed, for there had been none in the room -before. One of them was a servant of the inn, whom the young lord knew -well by sight, and had been kind to. The man, however, took not the -least notice of him, any more than if he had been a stranger; and, -saying to himself, "Fortune changes favour," the young nobleman turned -to the window again. - -A minute or two sufficed to set up the bed in its place; and then the -servant of the inn said to the other man, "Go fetch the blankets and -the pillow; they are at the end of the passage, I think." - -The moment he was gone and the door closed, the man started forward -and kissed Lord Chartley's hand. - -"Comfort, comfort, my lord," he said. "The headsman may sharpen his -axe, but it is not for you. Look under the pillow when I am gone; keep -your window open, and watch. But do not be rash nor in haste. Wait -till you have a signal;" and then, starting back to his place, he -began to stretch the cross bars of the bed out a little farther. - -A minute or two after, the other man returned loaded with bedding, -which was soon disposed in order; but just as they were retiring -again, the servant of the inn seemed to see something amiss about the -pillow, and returned for an instant to put it straight, after which -the two left the room together. The key was turned, the bolt was shot, -and Chartley, putting his hand under the pillow, drew forth a billet, -folded and sealed. It bore no address, and contained but few words. -They were as follows: - -"The sentinels at the gate will be removed at midnight. Blankets and -sheets have made ropes before now; and a grey horse, whose speed you -know, stands half a mile down the road. Turn to the right after your -descent. Before you go, in justice to others, burn the pass and the -letter which came with it; and, if you understand these directions, -extinguish your light at eleven." - -"Who could the letter come from?" Chartley asked himself. "It was -neither the handwriting nor the composition of an inn chamberlain, -that was clear," and, taking out the pass, he compared the writing of -the two. There was a very great similarity. - -Chartley's heart beat high again, but, as he gazed upon the two -papers, the clock struck ten. "Two long hours!" he thought, "two long -hours!" How wearisome seemed the passing of the time. But it did pass; -and when he calculated that eleven o'clock was drawing near, he -approached the pass to the flame of the lamp. It caught and burned; -but ere the whole was consumed, there came across the prisoner's mind -a doubt--a suspicion. It was the only hold he had upon Lord Stanley; a -paper which proved that nobleman had connived at his march to join the -earl of Richmond; a paper which he dared not order to be taken from -him by force lest it should discover its own secret. The next instant, -however, nobler thoughts succeeded. "Away, injurious suspicions!" he -said, and, casting the paper down upon the floor, he suffered it to -consume, and then trampled out the sparks with his foot. The letter -from Richmond, which had accompanied it, shared the same fate; and -then he waited and watched for the stroke of eleven. It was longer -than he had thought it would be; and at length he began to fancy that -the clock had stopped. - -Presently after there was a stroke of the hammer on the bell; another, -and another, and another. The tale was complete, and he blew out the -light. Then, placing himself at the window, he watched. The road was -now nearly deserted. In a house opposite there was a candle burning, -but it was extinguished in a few minutes. A small body of soldiers -passed along with measured tramp. Next came a drunken man, brawling -and shouting till his voice was lost in the distance. A deep silent -pause succeeded. Chartley could have counted the beatings of his own -heart. Then a man passed by, singing a low plaintive air in a sweet -voice, and his footfalls sounded as if he were somewhat lame. After -that there was another longer pause, and all was still again. Then -came a little noise in a distant part of the inn, which soon subsided, -and silence reigned supreme. It lasted long; and Chartley, thinking -the hour must be near, tied the clothing of the bed together, and -fastened the end to a hook and bar fixed into the wall for the purpose -of suspending a sconce. It was but a frail support for the weight of a -strong man; but he thought, "It will break the fall at least." When -that was done, he sat down in the window seat again, and watched. Oh, -the slow minutes, how they dragged along. At length the clock struck -twelve, and still the sentinels paced up and down. Three minutes had -perhaps elapsed, though to him they seemed many; and then the great -door of the inn opened, and a voice said, "Guard dismissed! quarters, -twenty-two. Roll call at dawn!" - -There was a clatter of arms, and then side by side the soldiers -marched up the town. He waited till their tramp could no more be -heard, then put his head to the door of the room, and listened. Some -one was breathing heavily without, as if in sleep. Approaching the -window softly, he drew forward the end of the sort of rope he had -formed, cast it over, and mounted on the window seat. Then, holding -fast with both hands, he contrived to grasp one of the knots with his -feet, and slid part of the way down. He loosened one hand, then the -other, and then freed his feet. Still the hook and bar held firm, and -a moment after his feet touched the ground. - -There was a light burning in a room below, but no one stirred; and, -passing quietly all along the front of the house, he soon accelerated -his pace, and, almost at a run, reached the verge of the little town. - -The moon peeped up above the edge of the slope, and Chartley looked -eagerly forward. There seemed some dark object under a group of trees -about three hundred yards in advance. He thought it looked like a -horse, but as he came nearer he saw two, and paused for an instant; -but the moment after came a low sweet whistle, like the note of a -bird, and he went on. - -Beneath the shade of the trees he found his own horse and another -standing, and a man holding the bridles of both. With a wild feeling -of liberty Chartley, without putting foot in stirrup, vaulted on the -noble beast's back; and it gave a neigh of joy, as if it felt that its -lord was free again. - -Then, drawing forth his purse, the young nobleman would have rewarded -the man who held the charger; but, in a voice Chartley seemed to know, -he said, "Wait, my lord, wait, I go with you to guide you. You go to -Tamworth, is it not?" - -"To Lichfield, to Lichfield," said Chartley; and he spurred on upon -the road which he knew right well. They rode on, the man following -some way behind, till Atherston was left afar, and the chance of -pursuit became less and less. At the distance of about four miles from -the little town, Chartley was overtaken by his follower, who had put -his horse into a gallop, to catch the fleeter beast which the young -nobleman was riding. - -"To the left, my lord," he said, "to the left, if you must needs to -Lichfield, though the earl's army is at Tamworth. The small bridle -paths save us a mile and a half, and will not be bad now." - -"Who are you?" asked Chartley, turning his horse into a narrow lane, -to which the man pointed. "I know your voice, surely." - -"Poor Sam the piper," answered the man, "though now rich, and no -longer the piper. Now you marvel how I should have been pitched upon -to guide you; but that is soon explained. I was sent over by one you -know well, to bear some news to the Lord Stanley, and there I heard -what was likely to befall you. I would have found means to get you -out, if Heaven had not put it in the good lord's mind to be kindly -himself; but as I was recommended to him as a man of discretion, who -could be trusted, and as I caught a glance of the good earl of -Richmond going in, and told the Lord Stanley so, he might think that -it would be well to employ me in what would put me out of the way." - -"The good earl of Richmond!" exclaimed Chartley; "has he been with the -Lord Stanley?" - -"Ay, this very night," replied the other, "with nought but two grooms -in company, which shows that he knows his game is very sure." - -Chartley mused as he sped onward; for though few doubted, except the -one who might have been expected to doubt most, that secret -intelligence existed between Richmond and his step-father, yet the -young nobleman had not imagined so bold a step as a personal -conference would be ventured by either. - -It was still dark when he arrived at Lichfield; and Chartley spent -more than half an hour in awakening the sleepy ostlers from their -beds, and obtaining some accommodation at the principal inn, for there -were, at that time, two in the good town. No information could he -procure either regarding Iola or his men; for there had been so many -persons passing to and fro within the last eight-and-forty hours, that -no description served to distinguish one from another. There was no -lady lodging in the inn, however, one of the ostler's assured him, -except "the fat canoness of Salisbury;" and as to the troops, they had -all marched out of the town, and gone to Tamworth. Forced to be -satisfied with this small intelligence, Chantey gave orders that his -good guide should be well taken care of, and that he himself should be -awakened at sunrise; and he then cast himself down upon a bed. For the -greater part of two nights and two days he had not closed an eye; and, -notwithstanding much love and some anxiety, drowsiness overpowered him -in a moment; the many busy thoughts which were whirling through his -brain grew confused and indistinct, and he slept. - -From a deep, dead, heavy slumber, he woke with a start, and gazed -around. The room was full of light. Sounds of busy life made -themselves heard on all sides. There was a girl crying water-cresses -in the street, and people laughing and talking in the full-day bustle -of the world, while a creaking wood-cart wended slowly along, singing -its complaining song. It was evident that he had been forgotten; and, -going to the door, he called loudly for the chamberlain. - -The man declared that he knew not any one was sleeping in that room, -but informed him it was well nigh ten o'clock, which was confirmed the -moment after by the church clock striking. No other information could -he afford, but that no lady was in the house, except the fat canoness; -and Chartley instantly set out to inquire at the other inn. There he -was likewise disappointed; and to every place where he was likely to -gain intelligence he went in vain. We all know how much time may be -occupied in such searches; and at that period Lichfield was full of -monasteries and convents, at each of which Chartley applied. At only -one of them did he gain any indication of the course of the fair -fugitive. It was a small community of hospitable nuns, where the -withered portress informed him that three ladies had slept there the -night before, and she did think that one of them had come up to the -gates with an odd-looking brown man. - -"We do not lodge men," she said, "and so he went somewhere else; but -the lady we took in; and she, and the servant, for so he seemed, went -away at ten this morning." - -Chartley demanded eagerly whither they had gone; and the old sister -replied, "To Coventry, I believe. All the three ladies went to -Coventry, to get out of the way of the war; for they said there would -be a battle to-day. Have you heard of such a thing, young gentlemen?" - -Chartley replied he had not; but the good woman's words threw his mind -upon another train of thought, and he hurried back to the inn. - -He leaned his head upon his hand, and meditated. "A battle, and I not -present? That must never be. Yet Richmond was at Tamworth last night, -and Stanley at Atherston. It can hardly have been fought. Yet it may -be ere nightfall. It is now near four; and many a field has been -fought and won, in the hours of daylight that are left." Thus he -thought, and then, starting up, he called aloud, "Drawer Drawer! Bring -me some wine and bread. Bid them prepare my horse instantly, and call -the man who came with me hither." - -The wine and bread were brought, and Sam was soon in the young lord's -presence. - -"Here, my good friend," said Chartley, giving him some gold. "You have -served me well, on this and other occasions, as I learn. I will reward -you further if I live. Now I must away to Tamworth; for I hear there -will be a battle soon, if it be not already fought; and I would not, -for one half a world, be absent." - -"Nor I either, my good lord," replied Sam. "I have always prayed to -see another battle, ere I died; and now I've a good chance, which I -will not lose. So, with your leave, I'll ride with you." - -"Be it as you like," replied Chartley. "But keep me not; for I depart -as soon as I have quitted my score." - -One cannot always get out of an inn, however, as soon as one likes; -and in those days all things moved more slowly than they do now. There -is nothing in which the advance of society is seen so much as in -facilities; and there were few of them in Europe at that period. Men -were often a month going the distance they would now travel in two -days; and at every step of the road some drag or another was put upon -the wheels of progress. The score was five minutes in reckoning, -although the items were but few. The horse was not ready when this was -done, and more time elapsed. Both the ostlers had gone out to see a -procession of grey friars; and the bit and bridle were not to be -found. In all, half an hour was consumed; and then Chartley set off, -and rode to Tamworth with speed. - -When he entered the little town, all seemed solitary. The setting sun -shone quietly through the deserted street. Not a cart, not a waggon -was to be seen; and a dog that came out of one of the houses, and -barked at the heels of the horses, was all the indication of life -within the place. - -"They have marched out, sir," said Sam, who followed him close behind; -"and all the good folks have gone after them to see the sport." - -"Then there has been no battle yet," answered Chartley; "but we must -find out which way they have gone. There is a man talking with some -women down that road. Ride down and gather news, while I go on to the -inn, the Green Dragon, there, and order some provender for the -horses." - -Before Sam returned, Chartley learned that Richmond, with his small -army, had marched towards Market Bosworth. "He won't get there without -a fight," said the elderly host, who had come out at his call, "for -King Richard is at the Abbey of Merrival. God help the right!" - -"Did you chance, mine host," demanded Chartley, without dismounting, -"to see with the earl's army the bands of the Lord Chartley?" - -"To be sure, to be sure," answered the host. "They are joined with Sir -John Savage's men. They marched in the rearguard." - -Chartley asked their colours and ensigns; and the old man answered -readily, showing that in reality he knew nothing about them, and, -after feeding his horses, Chartley rode on towards Bosworth. - -As the young nobleman advanced, he met numerous groups of Tamworth -people returning to the town at nightfall; and from them he obtained -information sufficient for his guidance. The two armies, he found, -were in presence, and a battle on the following day was certain. -Richard's head-quarters were at the Abbey of Merrival; but Richmond -had pitched his tent in the field. The number of the king's army was -greatly exaggerated, and many of the men shrugged their shoulders, as -they spoke of Richmond's force, evidently judging that his cause was -hopeless. - -"He had better have waited a day or two," said an elderly man, riding -on a cart, which had apparently conveyed some of the baggage of the -army; "for people were flocking to him very fast; but, fighting now, -he will be overwhelmed; and, if I were you, young gentleman, I would -keep myself from others' ill-luck." - -"I should deserve bad luck myself if I did," replied Chartley, and -rode on. - -Night now fell heavily; but soon after a noise began to be heard. -First came a murmur, like that of the distant sea; and then, as the -young nobleman spurred forward, louder sounds separated themselves -from the indistinct buzz. Voices shouting, ringing laughter, and the -clang of arms were heard. Twice, too, there was the blast of a -trumpet, but that was more distant; and Chartley found that he must be -approaching the rear of Richmond's host. - -Small as was the force with which the earl had landed in England, and -small as it was still, when he encamped on Bosworth field, it had not -failed to attract, as it marched on, a number of the idle, the -dissolute, and the greedy, in even a greater proportion than is -usually the case. The camp was kept clear by sentinels; but, for full -half a mile before he could see a tent, Chartley passed through -innumerable groups of men and women, and even children, from Tamworth -and Lichfield, and as far as Shrewsbury. He had no difficulty in -passing the sentinels, however, though he had not the word; for, to -say truth, they kept no very strict watch, and his appearance was -passport sufficient. - -When he had entered the little camp he inquired for his own men in -vain for nearly an hour. It was too dark to see the colours, or the -ensigns of the different leaders, though most of them had a banner or -a pennon pitched before his tent; and along the whole of the left wing -of the army he passed without gaining any intelligence. At length some -one told him that a body of horse, which had joined the earl at -Tamworth, was encamped on the extreme right, near a morass. "There -where you see those fires," said the man; "for they brought no tents -with them, and have cut down the apple trees in a goodman's orchard to -keep themselves warm." - -Chartley turned his horse thither, and rode on quickly; but at the -first fire he came to, he found no faces round it which he knew; and -the men took little notice of him. As he drew near the second, -however, a man who was sitting by it turned his head, and then, -starting on his feet, waved his steel cap in the air, crying out -aloud, "Here is my lord!" - -Instantly the whole body sprang up, with a shout of gratulation; and -in a minute after the master of the young lord's household, and -several of the leaders of his bands, had gathered round his horse. - -Chartley's first inquiries were with regard to Iola; but the account -of the master of his household satisfied him that she had taken her -way to Lichfield, accompanied by Ibn Ayoub alone. He thought it -strange, indeed, that she should have gone on to Coventry; but he -doubted not that something had occurred which he knew not of, to make -her decide upon such a course. The old man went on to explain that, -following the directions contained in the letter which his lord had -left with him, the soldiers, on being expelled from Fazely by the -troops of Lord Stanley, had immediately gone to join the forces of the -earl of Richmond. - -"We were in sad alarm about you, my lord," he continued; "but, thank -God, here you are safe. Would it were so with good Sir William Arden -too." - -"Ha, have you news of him?" demanded Chartley. - -"Ay, my lord, sad news," replied the old man. "Two men, who came over -to join us from the enemy, about an hour ago, tell me that he was -caught upon the road, stealing a nun from a convent; that he and his -men turned and fought like tigers, while she and a woman who was with -her made their escape. I said it was nonsense, for Sir William was -always a very sober and discreet gentleman, rather rough with his -tongue, but a good man at heart. One of the men, however, swears it is -true, declares that he kept guard over him himself, in the king's camp -out there, and that his head is to be struck off to-morrow morning, -between the two armies." - -"Are the men here?" demanded Chartley. - -"Yes, my noble lord," replied the other. - -"Then bring them to me," said Chartley; and, dismounting from his -horse, he seated himself by the fire. - - - - -CHAPTER XLVIII. - - -Shakspeare made a mistake. The morning was bright and clear, and the -sun shone strong and powerfully, drawing up a light mist from a marsh -which lay between a part of the earl of Richmond's forces, and the -much larger army of the king. At an early hour in the morning, all was -bustle and preparation; and, notwithstanding a great inferiority in -point of numbers, a calm and steady cheerfulness reigned in Richmond's -army, which was not the case in the royal host. There each man looked -upon his neighbour with doubt; and rumours were current of emissaries, -from the enemy's camp, having been seen busily passing from tent to -tent, amongst the king's troops, which was evinced by the doggerel -lines fixed on the duke of Norfolk's pavilion, as well as by several -other circumstances which made a noise for a moment or two, but were -soon forgotten. The impression, however, existed and gained strength, -that much dissatisfaction reigned amongst the leaders; and when the -forces of Lord Stanley appeared on the one wing, and those of his -brother on the other, without advancing nearer than half a mile, fresh -doubts and suspicions arose. - -The man[oe]uvres on both parts, before the action began, were few and -simple. A tardy sort of lethargy seemed to have fallen upon Richard; -and though he rode forth with a crown upon his helmet, as if desirous -of courting personal danger, he moved his men but little, till the day -was considerably advanced. - -Richmond rode over the whole field in person accompanied by the earl -of Oxford, Sir William Brandon, Sir Gilbert Talbot, and Sir John -Savage, and caused the marsh to be examined and its depth tried with a -lance. He then commanded a considerable movement to the left, with a -slight advance of the right wing, so as to allow the extreme of the -line to rest upon the edge of the morass, with the position which he -thus took up fronting the north west. He was observed to smile when he -saw the position assumed by Lord Stanley, in front of the morass and -to his own right, commanding the whole of the open field, between the -two armies; and, immediately after, the earl of Oxford pointed out to -him another considerable body of troops, advanced to a spot exactly -facing those of Stanley; so that the ground enclosed between the four -lines appeared very like a tilt yard on a large scale. - -Richmond nodded his head, merely saying, "They are Sir William's men." -Then, turning round, he demanded, "Which are Lord Chartley's troops?" - -"Here, my lord," said a man from the ranks. - -"I fear poor Chartley is not here to head them," said the earl of -Oxford, in a low tone, running his eye along the line. - -"He was here last night," said Richmond, "and sent me a strange note, -saying he would be with me betimes this morning; but he has not come." - -"My lord, the enemy is moving in two lines," said a horseman, riding -up; and, cantering back to the centre of his force, the rest of -Richmond's arrangements were soon made. His disposition in some -respects resembled that of his adversary. In two lines also his men -were ranged, having somewhat the advantage of the ground, but the -great advantage of the sun behind them, while the fierce rays shone -strong in the face of Richard's soldiers. - -The earl of Oxford commanded the first division, Richmond himself the -second, Talbot one wing, and Sir John Savage the other; and all the -leaders knew that death awaited them if they were taken. - -In what are called pitched battles, not brought on by skirmishing or -any accidental circumstance, but where parties meet with the full -determination of casting all upon the stake, there is generally a -short pause before the strife begins. For, perhaps, a minute, or a -minute and a half, after the troops were within less than a bow shot -distance of each other, and each could see the long line of faces -under the steel caps of the archers in the opposite ranks, there was a -dead silence; the trumpets ceased to sound; each bowman stood with his -arm and foot extended; the fiery cavalry reined in their horses; and -one might have heard a drop of rain, had it fallen upon the dry grass. -Then a baton was thrown up into the air on Richard's side; and every -man of the centre front line drew his bow string to his ear and sent -an arrow into the ranks of the enemy. Nor was this flight of missiles -without reply; for closer and faster still, though not so numerous, -fell the shafts from Richmond's little host amongst the adverse -troops. Their aim was truer too; for the eyes of his men were not -dazzled by the bright beams which poured into the faces of the enemy; -and many of the foe were seen to fall, while a good deal of confusion -spread along the line. Mounted on a tall horse, on the summit of a -little mound, towards the centre of the second line, Richmond could -see over the whole field; and, marking the disarray of the centre of -Richard's army, he said aloud, "Now, had we men enough for a charge on -that point, we might win the day at once." - -"You and yours were lost, did you attempt it," said a deep voice near; -and, looking round, the earl saw a tall figure, mounted on a strong -black horse, with armour not the best polished in the world, though of -fine quality and workmanship, and bearing in his hand a sharp stout -lance, which, in addition to the long tapering point, carried the -blade of an axe, like that of a woodman, forming altogether a weapon -somewhat resembling an ordinary halbert. His horse was totally -without armour; even the saddle was of common leather but the stranger -bore the spurs of knighthood; and over his neck hung a gold collar, -and a star. - -"Why say you so, sir knight?" demanded Richmond. - -"Look to the right," replied the stranger; and, turning his eyes in -that direction, the earl beheld a horseman galloping at full speed -towards the centre of Richard's line, where the king evidently was in -person, while the large body of horse, commanded by the duke of -Norfolk, was seen gliding down between the marsh and the troops of -Lord Stanley. It was a moment of intense anxiety; but at the same -instant Chartley's squadrons of horse were seen to fall back a little, -in good order, so as to face the road leading round the morass; and -Stanley's whole force wheeled suddenly on its right, so as to join the -earl's line, and nearly hem in the duke of Norfolk, between it and the -marsh. - -Richard's cavalry instantly halted and retreated in perfect array, -just in time to save themselves from destruction. They did not escape -without a charge however; and at the same time, the two front lines of -the armies advancing upon each other, the battle raged hand to hand -all along the field. - -It was just at this moment, that coming up from the rear, a little to -the left of the spot where the earl of Richmond stood, rode forward a -young knight in splendid armour, mounted on a beautiful grey horse. By -his side was a man no longer young, though still in the prime of life, -totally unarmed, even without sword or dagger; and behind came ten -spears wearing the colours of Lord Chartley. The young nobleman paused -for an instant, gazing over the field, and the strange confused sight -presented by a battle, at a period when cannon were little used and no -clouds of smoke obscured the view, extending over a line of more than -half a mile. Here squadrons of horse were seen charging the enemy's -line; there two cavaliers seemed to have sought each other out in -single combat; in one place a company of foot was pushing on with the -levelled pike; in another, the archers with their short swords were -striving hand to hand; the banners and pennons waved in the wind, -fluttered, and rose and fell; and long and repeated blasts of the -trumpet sounded to the charge, and animated the soldiers to the fight. - -It was a wild, a sad, a savage, but an exciting scene; and Chartley's -face, as he gazed with his visor up, looked like that of an eager -young horse, furious to start upon a course. - -"There is the earl, Chartley," said Sir William Arden. "That is his -standard. The taller one in front must be the man." - -Chartley instantly turned his horse, and rode up to Richmond's side. - -"I am late upon the field, my lord," he said, "but I will make up for -lost time. I went to save my noble friend, Sir William Arden here, -from the headsman's axe. I beseech you keep him with you; for you will -find his counsel good, and he is unarmed. Whither shall I go?" - -"Lord Chartley, I presume," said Richmond; "a gallant soldier never -comes too late to be of glorious use. There, straight forward on your -path is your noble friend, the earl of Oxford. I beseech you give him -help. He is sore pressed and terribly outnumbered." - -"Follow!" cried Chartley, turning to his men and raising his arm; and -down he dashed into the thickest of the fight. - -Small though the aid was, the effect was soon apparent. Some ground -which had been lost was regained in a instant; the first line of -Richard's troops was pressed back in the centre. The banner of Lord -Oxford made way in advance; but just then Sir William Brandon -exclaimed, "Richard is coming down with all his power, my lord." - -"Then must we not be behind," replied Richmond. "Advance the banner, -Brandon! Good men and true, keep your men back yet a while, till you -receive command. Then down upon the boar, and pin him to the earth; -for I will leave my bones upon the field or win this day." Thus saying, -he rode on towards a spot which had been left vacant in the struggle -which was going on; and those who were above could see that a group of -some twenty or thirty persons from the enemy's side moved down as if -to meet him. The greater part, however, paused where the two lines -were still striving man to man, some engaging in the combat, some -gazing idly forward. - -One, man, however, with two or three pages running by his side, burst -from the rest like the lightning from a cloud. He was covered with -gorgeous armour; his mighty horse was sheathed in steel; and circling -round his helmet, beneath the waving plume, appeared the royal crown -of England. Straight towards Richmond he dashed, trampling down a foot -soldier in his way, and rising the gentle slope, with his lance in the -rest, without the slightest relaxation of his horse's speed. - -"Mine, mine!" cried Sir William Brandon. "Mine to win a coronet!" and, -giving the standard to another, he couched his lance and bore down to -meet the king. But that unerring hand failed not. The eye was but too -keen. Straight in the throat, the point of Richard's spear struck the -standard-bearer, and hurled him dead upon the plain, while the -knight's own lance shivered on the king's corslet. Brandon's horse -also rolled upon the ground, but Richard leaped his charger over it -with a shout, and spurred on. - -Without asking leave, Sir John Cheney darted forth to meet him. His -fate, however, was but little better; for, though not slain, he was -hurled wounded from the saddle in an instant. But at that moment -Richard was met by a new adversary; for, as he was rapidly approaching -the spot where Richmond stood, the tall knight, whom I have mentioned, -sprang from his unarmed horse and threw himself on foot in the king's -way. Richard checked up his horse for an instant at the unexpected -sight, and dropped the point of his lance, to strike this new -adversary in the face; but ere he could accomplish it, with a -tremendous sweep of both his arms, the knight struck him on the side -of the helmet. The lacings gave way. The casque and crown fell off; -and a deep stream of gore flowed down the pale face, which was seen, -as he hung for a moment in the stirrups. The horse rushed on, but the -king soon dropped upon the field; and three or four footmen, springing -on him, dispatched him with their daggers. - -The tall knight leaned for an instant on the staff of his weapon, and -looked up and down the field; and then, as if he had gathered all in -that brief glance, he exclaimed, in a loud and vehement voice. "Now, -earl of Richmond, gaze not on the dead, but on to support the living! -Sir William Stanley is charging the enemy in the flank. On with your -whole force, and the day is yours. If not, it may be lost still. Give -me my horse, boy." - -The order was instantly given; the whole force of Richmond moved down -the hill; and though the struggle was protracted for some twenty -minutes longer, it was no longer doubtful. All was confusion indeed, -in the ranks of Richard; but Norfolk and many other noble gentlemen -struggled to the last, and died without yielding an inch of ground. -Northumberland took no part in the fight; and others fled soon, while -others again remained to be made prisoners; but steadily the earl of -Richmond's line advanced, till the whole of Richard's host either lay -on Bosworth field, or were in full flight across the country. - -At the end of two hours from the commencement of the battle the -trumpet sounded the recall, and Richmond's tent was set up, on the -spot where Richard had commanded at the beginning of the day. The -curtains were drawn up, and knights and noblemen crowded round, while -the field was searched, to ascertain the numbers and the quality of -the slain. Litters, formed hastily of lances laid across, were seen -moving about the plain, bearing the wounded from the field of carnage; -and many a group might be observed, in distant parts of the prospect, -engaged probably in less pious offices. - -Richmond, now on foot, and with his casque laid aside, stood for -several minutes gazing silently on the scene before him; and, oh, who -shall tell what passed through his mind at that moment? How often has -the flood of success a petrifying effect upon the heart! and, -doubtless, it was so with him; but he had then just stepped into those -Lethe waters, which so often drown in dull oblivion all the nobler and -more generous feelings of the soul. - -Nobody ventured to break upon his silence; for it was evident to all -that strong emotions were busy at his heart, till, at length, a voice -without, said-- - -"Lord Stanley!" and many others took it up, repeating, "Stanley, -Stanley!" - -Richmond took a step forward; but ere he reached the verge of the tent -Stanley himself appeared. He bore in his hands the royal croft, which -Richard had carried on his helmet, and, without a word, he advanced -straight to Richmond, and placed it on his brows. Then, bending the -knee, he said, aloud-- - -"Hail, king of England! Long live our sovereign lord, King Henry the -Seventh!" - -Richmond embraced him warmly, while a shout rent the air, and some -words passed between the two which no ear heard. Then advancing, with -the crown upon his head, Henry graciously thanked those around him for -their aid and service, adding a few words upon the glorious event of -the day. - -"There is one, however," he continued "whom I see not here, and to -whom double thanks are due. I cannot name him, for I know him not; but -his hand defended my life when two gallant gentlemen had fallen before -my enemy, and his hand slew the usurper of the crown I now bear. He -wore round his neck the collar and star of some foreign order, and--" - -"He is fearfully wounded, sire," said Lord Chartley, who had just come -up. "That litter, which you see yonder, is bearing him, at his own -request, to the abbey of St. Clare. He earnestly besought me to -entreat your grace, if your time would permit, to pass thither for a -brief space, on your march. He is a man of high and noble birth, -allied to a royal house; but I must say no more. The rest he will tell -you, if he live till you arrive." - -"Noble Lord Chartley, to you too I owe great thanks," said Henry; "and -they shall be paid in coin that you will like full well. But this -noble gentleman has taken strong possession of my mind. How did he -fall?--I saw him late in the battle, safe and foremost." - -"True, sire," replied Chartley; "he was before Sir George Talbot and -myself, as we followed the last troops of the enemy which kept -together, to disperse them. Then, however, just on the brow of the -hill, the young Lord Fulmer turned with his band, and bore my noble -friend down with his lance while he was contending with two men in -front." - -"But you avenged him, Chartley," said Sir George Talbot; "for you -carried the young serpent back on your lance's point, like an eel on -an eel-spear. He will never take odds against a gallant knight more." - -"I know not that," said Chartley; "for I saw him remounted and led -away between two servants. But, if your grace will visit the noble -gentleman of whom you spoke, I will forward at once and bear the -tidings after him." - -"I will not fail," replied Henry; "'tis but a mile or two about, I -believe; and, as soon as we have taken some order here, I ride thither -ere I go to Leicester." - -Chartley thanked him and retired; and the king, calling a page, -whispered to him some brief words, adding aloud, "To Tamworth then, -with all speed. Say, there must be no delay--no, not a moment." - - - - -CHAPTER XLIX. - - -In a small room, in the stranger's lodging at the abbey of St. Clare -of Atherston, lay the form of a wounded man, upon a low bed. A lady -sat by the pillow weeping; and the abbess was near the head of the -bed, with her eyes overflowing too, while the priest stood near, with -a boy in white garments behind him. - -"Not yet, not yet, good father," said the wounded man; "I am still -very strong--too strong. Nay, weep not, Mary, you have shed tears -enough for me already in your life; and in good sooth thus would I -die. My heart is light and happy, my dear wife, and I look up in trust -and hope. Knightly in my harness have I met my fate; and I am cheered -by my lady's love. I trust Richmond will come before I go; for, as my -journey is long, we might not meet again for many years; and I would -fain insure all, that there be no shade on my departure." - -"Lord Chartley expects him instantly, my noble son," replied the -abbess; "he is waiting his arrival now under the gateway. Oh, had I -known your rank, and dear ties to my poor brother St. Leger, when I -but thought you a poor woodman, you should have had every tenant of -the abbey to lead to fight for the house of Lancaster." - -"The king!" said Chartley, opening the door; and, with a slow step, -and look of sympathy, Henry entered and approached the dying man's -bed-side. - -"How can I enough thank you, sir?" he said; "and how can I enough -regret the fate of such a knight?" - -"Regret it not, sir," replied the other, gazing firmly in Henry's -face; "for I regret it not. Nor do I need thanks. I have fought for -that side on which I fought and bled in years gone by. I am content to -die in arms. I wish no better. But I have a boon to crave, not for -ought done in this day's field, but for a service rendered months ago, -when Bishop Morton bore to Henry of Richmond the proof of a plot to -yield him to the hands of his fell enemy." - -"I remember well," replied Henry; "but he told me he had those proofs -from a poor woodman, who was called Boyd." - -"He told you true," replied the other; "the woodman lies before you, -but, none the less, Thomas Boyd, earl of Arran." - -Henry started, and his politic mind ran on into the future; but he -replied, almost at once-- - -"I vowed that I would grant whatever boon was in my power to grant to -that same woodman, and I will not break my oath. Name your request, my -noble friend." - -"It is but this," answered the earl, "that by your royal will and -prerogative, passing over all opposition and obstacles, you will at -once, and without delay, unite in marriage a lady, called the Lady -Iola St. Leger, to that young lord standing behind you now." - -"But," cried the abbess, "there is a contract--" - -"Cease, cease, good mother," said the wounded man; "such contracts -must be thrown in the fire. There is a better contract between her and -Chartley." - -"Nay, but my brother, her uncle," said the abbess, "he signed the -contract on her behalf with the Lord Fulmer." - -"A better than her uncle signed the contract with that young lord," -replied the dying earl; "her father, lady abbess--her father, whom -this Lord Fulmer slew. Ay, marvel not, lady! Your brother's daughter -died, in his sad flight, when dark misfortune overwhelmed the house of -Lancaster. There were then dangers and miseries as dark, over my -hapless race; and that generous friend took my dear child, to save her -and me from greater difficulties still, and passed her for his own. -Slain by the foe, he had not time to tell his weaker but more -prosperous brother, or yourself; but the proofs are in my hands. Did I -not visit her here, more than ten years ago, and gaze at her, through -my closed visor, lest the tears that washed my cheek should betray the -secret? Have I not watched over her ever since that hour, when I fell -wounded for the house of Lancaster? But here are the proofs, my lord. -Take them, and grant my boon. I would fain have seen them wedded -before I die; but that cannot be, for I am waning fast; and now, let -no vain mourning for the dead impede their union--no, not an hour. Do -you grant my boon, Henry of England?" - -"I do, and willingly," replied Henry; "were that contract even valid, -I would cast it to the winds, sooner than see the child wed the -slaughterer of her father. But it cannot be valid. Nay, my good lord, -I will do more. With these proofs in my hand, I will o'erstep all -ceremonies. You said but now, that you would fain see this union ere -your death. If you do really so will--if it will be comfort to you on -your bed of pain, from which I trust you will yet rise to health--let -the marriage take place at once, and I will justify it with my -sanction. My first act of royalty shall be to bring a satisfaction to -a friend who has served me." - -"Alas, it cannot be, sir," replied the earl of Arran; "my child is far -away--at Coventry, they tell me; and my race is well nigh run. I -shall, indeed, rise from this bed to health, but it will be to health -immortal, I do trust; but never more can I behold my child." - -Sobs from the side of his pillow interrupted him, and, taking Mary's -hand, he said, "Nay, Mary, nay!--My lord, the king, you were about to -speak." - -"'Twas but to say," replied Henry, "that this may not be so impossible -as you think. I trust your hour is still far off. Your voice is -strong." - -"Because my will is strong; but I interrupt you rudely," said the -earl. - -"However that may be--if to see your child safe, guarded by a marriage -bond with one who can protect her strongly, and will love her truly, -or I am no judge of men," replied Henry, "can bring comfort to you, -even in this hour, 'tis not impossible--All wait here a moment." - -He left the room, and in a few minutes returned, leading in Iola -herself. - -"Now calmly, my good lord," he said, as the earl raised himself -quickly to catch her in his arms, "I sent for her from Lichfield to -Tamworth yesterday, thinking this good lord would meet her there. -Three hours ago I sent for her on Bosworth field, bidding her join me -here, and purposing to unite her to my noble friend at once. Thus your -boon was granted, ere it was asked, and you must seek another. She -has brought a bridesmaid with her, too, from Tamworth. The Lady -Constance, too, I think they called her." - -"Let it be quick," said the earl of Arran, in an altered voice, -unclasping his arms from the fair form they held; "let it be quick!" - -A few moments passed in explanation to Iola, and for a time she bent -down her eyes and wept. But the earl repeated, "Let it be quick! Iola, -lose no time;" and, drying her eyes, she said, sadly but sweetly, - -"I will obey you to the last, my father." - -There was a group ranged round the bedside of the dying man, some five -minutes after. The princess Mary held his hand in hers, and leaned her -head upon his shoulder. Iola's hand was clasped in that of Chartley; -and the priest, with an open book, read hurriedly the binding words, -while the low answer gave assent. - -As he ended, the wounded man said, in a voice as strong as ever, -"Amen!" and then placed his hand over his eyes. - -It rested there. - -They gazed upon him anxiously. He stirred not. - -The priest hurried to his side, and removed the hand. He looked upon -the face of the dead. - - - -THE END. - - - - - - - - - -End of Project Gutenberg's The Woodman, by George Payne Rainsford James - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE WOODMAN *** - -***** This file should be named 50329-8.txt or 50329-8.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/5/0/3/2/50329/ - -Produced by Charles Bowen from page scans provided by -Google Books (the Bavarian State Library) - - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will -be renamed. - -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United -States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. 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You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of -the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at -www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you'll have -to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook. - - - -Title: The Woodman - A Romance of the Times of Richard III - -Author: George Payne Rainsford James - -Release Date: October 27, 2015 [EBook #50329] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE WOODMAN *** - - - - -Produced by Charles Bowen from page scans provided by -Google Books (the Bavarian State Library) - - - - - - -</pre> - - -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<p class="hang1">Transcriber's Notes:<br> -1. Page scan source:<br> -https://books.google.com/books?id=PfdLAAAAcAAJ<br> -(the Bavarian State Library)<br> -2. The diphthong oe is represented by [oe].</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> - -<h3>THE WOODMAN;</h3> -<h4>A ROMANCE</h4> -<h5>OF</h5> -<h4>THE TIMES OF RICHARD III.</h4> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h3>BY G. P. R. JAMES, ESQ.,</h3> -<br> -<h5>AUTHOR OF "DARNLEY," "THE SMUGGLER," "THE CONVICT," "MARGARET GRAHAM," "THE -FORGERY," ETC.</h5> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> - -<h3>PARIS:</h3> -<table cellpadding="10" style="width:90%; margin-left:5%; font-weight:bold"> -<colgroup><col style="width:45%; text-align:center"><col style="width:45%; text-align:center"></colgroup> -<tr> -<td><h4>A. AND W. GALIGNANI AND Co.,</h4></td> -<td><h4>BAUDRY'S EUROPEAN LIBRARY,</h4></td> -</tr><tr> -<td><h5>RUE VIVIENNE, No. 18.</h5></td> -<td>QUAI MALAQUAIS, No. 3.</td> -</tr></table> - -<h3>1849.</h3> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h3>THE WOODMAN;</h3> - -<h4>A ROMANCE</h4> - -<h5>OF</h5> - -<h4>THE TIMES OF RICHARD III.</h4> -<br> -<br> -<h4>BY G. P. R. JAMES.</h4> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h3>CHAPTER I.</h3> -<br> - -<p class="normal">Of all the hard-working people on the earth, there are none so -serviceable to her neighbours as the moon. She lights lovers and -thieves. She keeps watch-dogs waking. She is a constant resource to -poets and romance-writers. She helps the compounders of almanacks -amazingly. She has something to do with the weather, and the tides, -and the harvest; and in short she has a finger in every man's pie, and -probably more or less effect upon every man's brain. She is a charming -creature in all her variations. Her versatility is not the offspring -of caprice; and she is constant in the midst of every change.</p> - -<p class="normal">I will have a moon, say what you will, my dear Prebend; and she shall -more or less rule every page of this book.</p> - -<p class="normal">There was a sloping piece of ground looking to the south east, with a -very small narrow rivulet running at the bottom. On the opposite side -of the stream was another slope, as like the former as possible, only -looking in the opposite direction. Titian, and Vandyke, and some other -painters, have pleased themselves with depicting, in one picture, the -same face in two or three positions; and these two slopes looked -exactly like the two profiles of one countenance. Each had its little -clumps of trees scattered about. Each had here and there a hedgerow, -somewhat broken and dilapidated; and each too had towards its northern -extremity a low chalky bank, through which the stream seemed to have -forced itself, in those good old times when rivers first began to go -on pilgrimages towards the sea, and, like many other pilgrims that we -wot of made their way through all obstacles in a very unceremonious -manner.</p> - -<p class="normal">Over these two slopes about the hour of half past eleven, post -meridian, the moon was shining with a bright but fitful sort of -splendour; for ever and anon a light fleecy cloud, like a piece of -swansdown borne by the wind, would dim the brightness of her rays, and -cast a passing shadow on the scene below. Half an hour before, indeed, -the radiant face of night's sweet queen had been veiled by a blacker -curtain, which had gathered thick over the sky at the sun's decline; -but, as the moon rose high, those dark vapours became mottled with -wavy lines of white, and gradually her beams seemed to drink them up.</p> - -<p class="normal">It may be asked if those two sloping meadows, with their clumps of -trees, and broken hedgerows, and the little stream flowing on between -them, was all that the moonlight showed? That would depend upon where -the eye of the observer was placed. Near the lower part of the valley, -formed by the inclination of the land, nothing else could be -perceived; but walk half way up towards the top, on either side, and -the scene was very much altered. Gradually rising, as the eye rose, -appeared, stretching out beyond the chalky banks to the north, through -which the rivulet came on, a large-grey indistinct mass stretching all -along from east to west, the rounded lines of which, together with -some misty gaps, taking a blueish white tint in the moonlight, showed -it to be some ancient forest, lying at the distance probably of two or -three miles from the spot first mentioned.</p> - -<p class="normal">But there were other objects displayed by the moonlight; for as those -soft clouds, sweeping rapidly past, varied her light, and cast bright -gleams or grey shadows on the ground, every here and there, especially -on the south western slope, a brilliant spot would sparkle forth, -flashing back the rays; and a nearer look showed naked swords, and -breast-plates, and casques, while every now and then, under the -increasing light, that which seemed a hillock took the form of a horse -or of a human being, lying quietly on the green turf, or cast -motionless down beneath a hedge or an old hawthorn tree.</p> - -<p class="normal">Were they sleeping there in that dewy night? Ay, sleeping that sleep -which fears not the blast, nor the tempest nor the dew, which the -thunder cannot break, and from which no trumpet but one shall ever -rouse the sleeper.</p> - -<p class="normal">From sunset till that hour, no living thing, unless it were fox or -wolf, had moved upon the scene. The battle was over, the pursuers -recalled, the wounded removed; the burial of the dead, if it was to be -cared for at all, postponed till another day; and all the fierce and -base passions which are called forth by civil contest had lain down to -sleep before the hour of which I speak. Even the human vulture, which -follows on the track of warring armies to feed upon the spoils of the -dead, had gorged itself upon that field, and left the rich arms and -housings to be carried away on the morning following.</p> - -<p class="normal">The fiercer and the baser passions, I have said, now slept; but there -were tenderer affections which woke, and through that solemn and sad -scene, with no light but that of the moon, with no sound but that of -the sighing wind, some four or five persons were seen wandering about, -half an hour before midnight. Often, as they went, they bent down at -this spot or at that, and gazed at some object on the ground. -Sometimes one of them would kneel, and twice they turned over a dead -body which had fallen with the face downwards. For more than an hour -they went on, pausing at times to speak to each other, and then -resuming their examination--I know not whether to call it search; for -certainly they seemed to find nothing if they did search, although -they left hardly a square yard of the whole field unexplored.</p> - -<p class="normal">It was nearly one o'clock on the following morning, when with slow -steps they took their way over the rise; and the next moment the sound -of horses' feet going at a quick pace broke the silence. That sound, -in the absence of every other noise, might be heard for nearly ten -minutes; and then all was stillness and solitude once more.</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h3>CHAPTER II.</h3> -<br> - -<p class="normal">Years had passed, long years, since the little scene took place which -I have described in the preceding chapter. The heads were grey which -were then proud of the glossy locks of youth. Middle life was -approaching old age; and children had become men.</p> - -<p class="normal">It was evening. The sun had gone down some two hours before; and the -lights were lighted in a large comfortable well-furnished room. The -ceilings were vaulted. The doorways and the two windows were richly -decorated with innumerable mouldings; and the discoloured stone work -around them, the clustered pillars at the sides, the mullions which -divided the windows, and the broad pointed arches above, spoke that -style of architecture known as the early English. The tables, the -chairs, the cupboard at the side, were all of old oak, deep in colour -and rich in ornament. The floor was covered with rushes, over which, -in the centre, was spread a piece of tapestry; and the stone work of -the walls between the pillars was hidden by tapestry likewise, on one -side representing the siege of Troy, on the other the history of David -and Goliath, and on a third the loves of Mars and Venus, which, though -somewhat too luscious for our irritable imaginations, did not in those -days at all shock the chaste inhabitants of a nunnery. The fourth side -of the room was untapestried, for there spread the immense, wide, open -chimney, with a pile of blazing logs on the hearth, and, in the open -space above the arch, a very early painting of the Madonna and child, -with gilt glories around the heads of both, and the meek eyes of the -virgin fixed upon the somewhat profuse charms of the goddess of love -on the other side.</p> - -<p class="normal">This is description enough. The reader can easily conceive the parlour -of an abbess towards the end of the fifteenth century, the -heterogeneous contents of which would be somewhat tedious to detail.</p> - -<p class="normal">Let no one, however, form a false idea of the poor abbess of -Atherston, from the admission into her own private chamber of such -very ungodly personages as Mars and Venus. She had found them there -when she became abbess of the convent, and looked upon them and their -loves as upon any other piece of needlework. Nay, more, had it ever -occurred to her that there was anything improper in having them there, -she would probably have removed them, though to get a more decent -piece of tapestry might have cost her four or five marks. Not that she -was at all stiff, rigid, and severe, for she was the merriest little -abbess in the world; but she combined with great gaiety of heart an -infinite deal of innocence and simplicity, which were perfectly -compatible with some shrewdness and good sense. Shut up in a convent -at a very early period, exposed to none of the vicissitudes of life, -and untaught the corrupting lessons of the world, her cheerfulness had -been economised, her simplicity unimpaired, and her natural keenness -of intellect unblunted, though there might be here and there a spot of -rust upon the blade. It was without her own consent she had gone into -a convent, but neither with nor against her wishes. She had been quite -indifferent; and, never having had any means of judging of other -states of life, she was not discontented with her lot, and rather -pitied than otherwise those who were forced to dwell in a world of -which she knew nothing.</p> - -<p class="normal">As piety however had nothing to do with her profession, and -mortification had never entered into her catalogue of duties, she saw -no sin and could conceive no evil in making herself as comfortable and -happy as she could. Her predecessor indeed had done a little more, and -had not altogether escaped scandal; but our abbess was of a very -different character, performed her ceremonial duties accurately, -abstained from everything that she knew or thought to be wrong, and -while exacting a fulfilment of all prescribed duties from her nuns, -endeavoured to make their seclusion pleasant, by unvarying gentleness, -kindness, and cheerfulness. If she had a fault, perhaps it was a too -great love for the good things of this life. She was exceedingly fond -of trout, and did not altogether dislike a moderate portion of Gascon -wine, especially when it was of a very superior quality. Venison she -could eat; and a well-fed partridge was not unacceptable--though -methinks she might have spared it from its great resemblance to -herself. All these things, and a great number of other dainties, -however, were plentifully supplied by the lands of the convent, which -were ample, and by the stream which flowed near at hand, or by the -large fish-ponds, three in number, which lay upon the common above. -Indeed so abundant was the provision for a fast day, that the abbess -and the nuns looked forward to it, as it came on in the week, with -great satisfaction, from its affording them excuse for eating more -fish than usual. Not that they fared ill on the other days of the -week; for, as far as forest and lea would go, they were well provided.</p> - -<p class="normal">To a contented spirit all things are bright; and the good abbess could -have been satisfied with much less than she possessed; so I suppose -whatever little superabundance existed went to make the heart merry -and the tongue glib; and there she sat with her feet on a footstool, -sufficiently near the fire to be somewhat over warm, but yet hardly -near enough for that delicious tingling sensation, which the blaze of -good dry wood produces till we hardly know whether it is pleasant or -painful. In her hand there was a book--a real printed book, rare in -those days, and which might well be looked upon as a treasure. As she -read, she commented to two young girls who sat near with tall frames -before them, running the industrious needle in and out.</p> - -<p class="normal">I have called them young girls, not alone to distinguish them from old -ones--though that might be necessary--but to show that they had barely -reached womanhood. The eldest was hardly nineteen; the other some -fourteen or fifteen months younger. Both were beautiful; and there was -a certain degree of likeness between them, though the face of the -elder had features more clearly, perhaps more beautifully, cut, and an -expression of greater thoughtfulness, perhaps greater vigour of -character. Yet the other was very beautiful too, with that sparkling -variety, that constant play of everchanging expression, which is so -charming. Its very youthfulness was delightful, for a gleam of -childhood lingered still in the look, especially when surprised or -pleased, although the lines of the face and the contour of the form -were womanly--perhaps more so than those of the other.</p> - -<p class="normal">That they were none of the sisterhood was evident by the mere matter -of their dress, which also indicated that they had not a fixed -intention of ever entering it; for it was altogether worldly in form -and material, and though plain yet rich. Seated there, with a near -relation, their heads were unencumbered with the monstrous -head-dresses of the time, the proportions of which, not very long -before, were so immense as to require doorways to be widened and -lintels raised, in order to let a lady pass in conveniently. Each wore -a light veil, it is true, hanging from the mass of glossy hair behind -the head, and which could be thrown over the face when required; but -it was very different from the veil of the nun or even of the novice.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Well, my dear children, I do declare," said the elder lady, "this new -invention of printing may be very clever, and I wot it is; but it is -mighty difficult to read when it is done. I could make out plain court -hand a great deal better when written by a good scribe, such as they -used to have at Winchester and Salisbury."</p> - -<p class="normal">The younger girl looked up, answering with a gay laugh. "The poor -people never pretend to make you read it easily, dear aunt and mother. -All they say is that they can make more copies of a book in a day than -a scribe could make in a year, and that they can let you have for -three or four shillings what would cost you three or four crowns from -a scribe."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Ay, that's the worst of it all, child," replied the old lady, shaking -her head. "Books will get into the hands of all sorts of common -people, and do a world of mischief, good lack. But it can't be helped, -my children. The world and the devil will have their way; and, even if -there were a law made against any one learning to read or write under -the rank of a lord at least, it would only make others the more eager -to do it. But I do think that this invention ought to be stopped; for -it will do a world of mischief, I am sure."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I hope not," replied the other young lady; "for by no contrivance can -they ever make books so cheap, that the lower class can read them; and -I know I have often wished I had a book to read when I have had -nothing else to do. It's a great comfort sometimes, my dear aunt, -especially when one is heavy."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Ay, that it is, child," said the abbess; "I know that right well. I -don't know what I should have done after the battle of Barnet, if it -had not been for poor old Chaucer. My grandfather remembered him very -well, at the court of John of Ghent; and he gave me the merry book, -when I was not much older than you are. Well-a-day, I must read it -again, when you two leave me; for my evenings will be dull enough -without you, children. I would ask sister Bridget to come in of a -night, in the winter, and do her embroidery beside me, only if she -staid for my little private supper, her face would certainly turn the -wine sour."</p> - -<p class="normal">"But, perhaps we shall not go after all, dear mother," said the -younger lady. "Have you heard anything about it?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"There now," cried the abbess, laughing, "she's just as wild to get -into the wicked world as a caged bird to break out into the open air."</p> - -<p class="normal">"To be sure I am," exclaimed the light-hearted girl; "and oh, how I -will use my wings."</p> - -<p class="normal">The abbess gazed at her with a look of tender, almost melancholy, -interest, and replied:</p> - -<p class="normal">"There are limed twigs about them, my child. You forget that you are -married."</p> - -<p class="normal">"No, not married," cried the other, with her face all glowing. -"Contracted, not married--I wish I was, for the thought frightens me, -and then the worst would be over."</p> - -<p class="normal">"You don't know what you wish," replied the abbess, shaking her head. -"A thousand to one, you would very soon wish to be unmarried again; -but then it would be too late. It is a collar you can't shake off when -you have once put it on; and nobody can tell how much it may pinch one -till it has been tried. I thank my lucky stars that made it convenient -for your good grandfather to put me in here; for whenever I go out -quietly on my little mule, to see after the affairs of the farms, and -perchance to take a sidelong look at our good foresters coursing a -hare, I never can help pitying the two dogs coupled together, and -pulling at the two ends of a band they cannot break, and thanking my -good fortune for not tying me up in a leash with any one."</p> - -<p class="normal">The two girls laughed gaily; for, to say truth, they had neither of -them any vocation for cloisteral life; but the youngest replied, -following her aunt's figure of speech, "I dare say the dogs are very -like two married people, my aunt and lady mother; but I dare say too, -if you were to ask either of them, whether he would rather go out into -the green fields tied to a companion, or remain shut up in a kennel, -he would hold out his neck for the couples."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Why, you saucy child, do you call this a kennel?" asked the abbess, -shaking her finger at her good-humouredly. "What will young maids come -to next? But it is as well as it is; since thou art destined for the -world and its vanities, 'tis lucky thou hast a taste for them; and I -trust thy husband--as thou must have one--will not beat thee above -once a-week, and that on the Saturday, to make thee more devout on the -Sunday following. Is he a ferocious-looking man?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Lord love thee, my dear aunt," answered the young lady; "I have never -seen him since I was in swaddling clothes."</p> - -<p class="normal">"And he was in a sorry-coloured pinked doublet, with a gay cloak on -his shoulders, and a little bonnet on his head no bigger than the palm -of my hand," cried the other young lady. "He could not be ten years -old, and looked like some great man's little page. I remember it quite -well, for I had seen seven years; and I thought it a great shame that -my cousin Iola should have a husband given to her at five, and I none -at seven."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Given to her!" said the abbess, laughing.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Well," rejoined the young lady, "I looked upon it as a sort of -doll--a poppet."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Not far wrong either, my dear," answered the abbess; "only you must -take care how you knock its nose against the floor, or you may find -out where the difference lies."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Good lack, I have had dolls enough," answered the younger lady, "and -could well spare this other one. But what must be must be; so there is -no use to think of it.--Don't you believe, lady mother," she continued -after a pause, interrupted by a sigh, "that it would be better if they -let people choose husbands and wives for themselves?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Good gracious!" cried the abbess, "what is the child thinking of? -Pretty choosing there would be, I dare say. Why lords' daughters would -be taking rosy-cheeked franklins' sons; and barons' heirs would be -marrying milkmaids."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I don't believe it," said the young lady. "Each would choose, I -think, as they had been brought up; and there would be more chance of -their loving when they did wed."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Nonsense, nonsense, Iola," cried her aunt. "What do you know about -love--or I either for that matter? Love that comes after marriage is -most likely to last, for, I suppose, like all other sorts of plants, -it only lives a certain time and then dies away; so that if it begins -soon, it ends soon."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I should like my love to be like one of the trees of the park," said -the young lady, looking down thoughtfully, "growing stronger and -stronger, as it gets older, and outliving myself."</p> - -<p class="normal">"You must seek for it in fairyland then, my dear," said the abbess. -"You will not find it in this sinful world."</p> - -<p class="normal">Just as she spoke, the great bell of the abbey, which hung not far -from the window of the abbess's parlour, rang deep and loud; and the -sound, unusual at that hour of the night, made the good old lady -start.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Virgin mother!" she exclaimed--it was the only little interjection -she allowed herself. "Who can that be coming two hours after curfew?" -and running to the door, with more activity than her plumpness seemed -to promise, she exclaimed, "Sister Magdalen, sister Magdalen, do not -let them open the gate; let them speak through the barred wicket."</p> - -<p class="normal">"It is only Boyd, the woodman, lady," replied a nun, who was at the -end of a short passage looking out into the court.</p> - -<p class="normal">"What can he want at this hour?" said the abbess. "Could he not come -before sundown? Well, take him into the parlour by the little door. I -will come to him in a minute;" and returning into her own room again, -the good lady composed herself after her agitation, by a moment's rest -in her great chair; and, after expressing her surprise more than once, -that the woodman should visit the abbey so late, she bade her two -nieces follow her, and passed through a door, different to that by -which she had previously gone out, and walked with stately steps along -a short corridor leading to the public parlour of the abbey.</p> - -<p class="normal">This was a large and handsome room, lined entirely with beautiful -carved oak, and divided into two, lengthwise, by a screen of open -iron-work painted blue and red, and richly gilt. Visitors on the one -side could see, converse, and even shake hands with those on the -other; but, like the gulf between Abraham and Dives, the iron bars -shut out all farther intercourse. A sconce was lighted on the side of -the nunnery; and when Iola and her cousin Constance followed their -aunt into the room, they beheld, on the other side of the grate, the -form of a tall powerful man, somewhat advanced in life, standing with -his arms crossed upon his broad chest, and looking, to say sooth, -somewhat gloomy. He might indeed, be a little surprised at being -forced to hold communication with the lady abbess through the grate of -the general parlour; for the good lady was by no means so strict in -her notions of conventual decorum, as to exclude him, or any other of -the servants and officers of the abbey, from her presence in the -court-yard or in her own private sitting-room; and perhaps the woodman -might think it did not much matter whether his visit was made by night -or by day.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Well, John Boyd," said the abbess, "in fortune's name, what brings -you so late at night? Mary mother, I thought it was some of the roving -bands come to try and plunder the abbey again, as they did last -Martinmas twelvemonth; and we cannot expect such a blessed chance -every time, as that good Sir Martin Rideout should be at hand to help -our poor socmen. Had it not been for him, I wot, Peter our bailiff -would have made but a poor hand of defending us."</p> - -<p class="normal">"And a poor hand he did make," replied the woodman, in a cynical tone; -"for he was nowhere to be found; and I had to pull him out of the -buttery, to head the tenants. But I hear no more of rovers, lady, -unless it be the men at Coleshill, and King Richard's posts, planted -all along the highways, with twenty miles between each two, to look -out for Harry of Richmond."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Posts!" said the abbess; "posts planted on the highway! What mean you -by posts?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Why men on horseback, lady mother," answered the woodman; "with sharp -spurs and strong steeds to bear to Dickon, our king that is, news of -Harry, our king that may be, if he chance to land any where upon the -coast."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Now Heaven assoil us!" cried the abbess; "what more war, more war? -Will men never be content without deforming God's image in their -fellow creatures, and burning and destroying even the fairest works of -their own hands?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"I fear not," answered the woodman, twisting round the broad axe that -was hung in his leathern belt. "Great children and small are fond of -bonfires; and nature and the devil between them made man a beast of -prey. As to what brought me hither, madam, it, was to tell you that -the wooden bridge in the forest wants repairing sadly. It would hardly -bear up your mule, lady, with nothing but yourself and your hawk upon -its back; much less a war-horse with a rider armed at point. As for my -coming so late, I have been as far as Tamworth this morning, to sell -the bavins, and didn't get back till after dark. So marking the bridge -by the way, and thinking it would be better to begin on it early in -the morning, I made bold to come up at night for fear anyone, riding -along to church or market or otherwise, should find their way into the -river, and say the abbess ought to mend her ways;" and he laughed at -his own joke.</p> - -<p class="normal">While he had been speaking, both the young ladies, though he was no -stranger to them, had been gazing at him with considerable attention. -He was, as I have said before, a tall and still very powerful man, -although he seemed to have passed the age of fifty years. His -shoulders were very broad, his arms long and muscular; but his body -was small in proportion to the limbs, and the head in proportion to -the height of the whole figure. His forehead was exceedingly broad and -high, however; the crown of his head quite bald, with large masses of -curling hair falling round his temples and on his neck. What his -complexion originally had been, could not be discovered; for the -whiteness of his hair and eye-brows and the sun-burnt weather-beaten -hue of his skin afforded no indication. His teeth, however, were still -good, his eyes large and bright, and the features fine, although the -wide forehead was seamed with deep furrows, giving, apart from the -rest of his appearance, a look of much greater age than that at which -he had really arrived.</p> - -<p class="normal">His dress was the ordinary woodman's garb of the time, which is well -known to almost every one. There was the thick stiff leathern coat, -which no broken branch or rugged thorn could pierce, the breeches of -untanned hide, and the hoots of strong black leather, reaching above -the knee. Round his waist, over his coat, he wore a broad belt, -fastened by a brass buckle in front, and in it were stuck the -implements of his craft, namely, a broad axe, which required no -ordinary power of limb to wield, with the head uppermost, thrust under -his left arm like a sword; a large billhook, having a broad stout -piece of iron at the back, which might serve the purposes of a hammer; -and an ordinary woodman's knife, the blade of which was about eighteen -inches in length. His head was on ordinary occasions covered with a -round cloth cap; but this, in reverence of the presence of the lady -abbess, he held by the edge in his hand.</p> - -<p class="normal">The expression of the good man's countenance, when not particularly -moved, was agreeable enough, though somewhat stern and sad; but when -he laughed, which was by no means unfrequent, although the sound was -loud and hearty, an extraordinary look of bitter mockery hung about -his lip and nostril, taking away all appearance of happiness from his -merriment.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Well, well, you might mend the bridge without asking me," said the -abbess, in reply to his report. "It is a part of the head woodman's -duty, and the expenses would always be passed. So if you had nothing -more to say than that, you might have chosen another hour, goodman -Boyd."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Crying your mercy, lady," said the woodman, "I would always rather -deal with you than with your bailiff. When I have orders from you, I -set him at nought. When I do anything of my own hand he is sure to -carp. However I had more to say. We have taken a score of mallards in -the great pond, and a pike of thirty pounds. There are two bitterns -too, three heronshaws, and a pheasant with a back like gold. I had -four dozen of pigeons killed too, out of the colombier in the north -wood; and--"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Mother Mary, is the man mad?" exclaimed the abbess. "One would think -we were going to have the installation of an archbishop."</p> - -<p class="normal">"And there are twenty young rabbits, as fat as badgers," continued the -woodman, taking no notice of her interruption. "If I might advise, -lady, you would order some capons to be killed to-night."</p> - -<p class="normal">The good abbess stood as one quite bewildered, and then burst into a -fit of laughter, saying--</p> - -<p class="normal">"The man is crazed, I think;" but her eldest niece pulled the sleeve -of her gown, whispering--</p> - -<p class="normal">"He means something, depend upon it. Perhaps he does not like to speak -before me and Iola."</p> - -<p class="normal">The abbess paused for an instant as if to consider this suggestion, -and then asked--</p> - -<p class="normal">"Well, have you anything more to say, goodman?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Oh, yes, plenty more," answered the woodman; "when I find a meet -season."</p> - -<p class="normal">"On my word you seem to have found a fish and fowl season," rejoined -the abbess, playing upon the word <i>meet</i>. We must recollect that she -had but little to amuse herself with in her solitude, and therefore -forgive her. She continued, however, in a graver tone: "Is it that you -wish to speak with me alone?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Yes, lady," answered the man. "Three pair of ears have generally got -three mouths belonging to them, and that is too many by two."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Then I'll carry mine out of the way, goodman Boyd," said Iola, giving -him a gay nod, and moving towards the door; "I love not secrets of any -kind. Heaven shield me from having any of my own, for I should never -keep them."</p> - -<p class="normal">The woodman looked after her with a smile, murmuring in a low voice as -if to himself--</p> - -<p class="normal">"Yet I think she would keep other people's better than most." Then, -waiting till Constance had followed her cousin from the room, he -continued, speaking to the abbess: "you'll have visitors at the abbey, -lady, before this time to-morrow night."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Marry, that is news, goodman," answered the abbess; "and for this -then you have made all this great preparation. It must be an earl, or -duke at least, if not king Richard himself--God save the mark that I -should give the name of king to one of his kindred. Methinks you might -have told me this without such secrecy. Who may these visitors be?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"They are very simple gentlemen, my lady," answered the woodman, -"though well to do in the world. First and foremost, there is the -young Lord Chartley, a young nobleman with as many good points as a -horse-dealer's filly; a baron of the oldest race, a good man at arms. -He can read and write, and thanks God for it, makes verses when he is -in love--which is every day in the week with some one--and, to crown -all, is exceedingly rich as these hard times go."</p> - -<p class="normal">"You seem to be of his privy chamber, goodman Boyd," said the abbess; -"you deliver him so punctually."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I deliver him but as his own servants delivered him to me," answered -the woodman. "Tell me, was he not in the battle of Barnet, fighting -for the red rose?" inquired the abbess. "Ay, and sorely wounded there. -He shall be right welcome, if it were but for that."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Nay, Lord Chartley fought at Barnet," said the woodman; "and if to -fight well and to suffer for the cause of Lancaster merit such high -honour, you might indeed receive him daintily, for he fought till he -was killed there, poor man; but this youth is his nephew, and has had -no occasion to fight in England either, for there have been no battles -since he was a boy. Lancaster he doubtless is in heart, though king -Edward put him into the guardianship of a Yorkist. However, with him -comes Sir Edward Hungerford, who, they tell me, is one of those gay -light-hearted gentlemen, who, born and bred in perilous and changing -times, get to think at last, by seeing all things fall to pieces round -them, that there is nothing real or solid in the world--no, not truth -itself. But let him pass; a little perjury and utter faithlessness, a -ready wit, a bold heart, a reckless love of mischief, a pair of -hanging sleeves that sweeps the ground as he walks along, a coat of -goldsmith's work, and a well-lined purse, have made many a fine -gentleman before him; and I'll warrant he is not worse than the -greater part of his neighbours. Then with these two, there is Sir -Charles Weinants, a right worshipful gentleman also."</p> - -<p class="normal">"But tell me more of him," said the abbess. "What is he? I have heard -the name before with honourable mention, methinks--Who and what is -he?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"A lickladle of the court, lady," answered the woodman, "one who rises -high by low ladders--who soars not up at once, either as the eagle or -the lark, but creeps into favour through holes and turnings. He is -marvellously discreet in all his doings, asserts nought boldly, but by -dull insinuation stings an enemy or serves a friend. Oh yes, he has -his friendships too--not much to be relied on, it is true, but still -often useful, so that even good men have need of his agency. All that -he does is done by under-currents, which bear things back to the shore -that seem floating out to sea. Quiet, and calm, and self-possessed, he -is ever ready for the occasion; and with a cheerful spirit, which one -would think the tenant of an upright heart, he wins his way silently, -and possesses great men's ears, who little know that their favour is -disposed of at another's will. He is an old man now; but I remember -him when I was a boy at St. Alban's. He was then in much grace with -the great Lord Clifford, who brought him to the notice of king Henry. -He has since lived, as much in favour, with Edwards and Richards and -Buckinghams, and is now a strong Yorkist. What he will die, Heaven and -time will show us."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Goodlack, that there should be such things in the world!" exclaimed -the abbess; "but what brings all these people here? I know none of -them; and if they come but to visit the shrine, I have no need to -entertain them, nor you to make a mystery of their visit. I hate -mysteries, my good son, ever since I read about that word being -written on the forehead of the poor sinner of Babylon."</p> - -<p class="normal">The woodman laughed irreverently, but answered, "I want to make no -mystery with you, lady. These men bring a great train with them; and -in their train there is a reverend friar, with frock, and cowl, and -sandaled feet; but methinks I have seen a mitre on his shaven crown, -though neither mitre nor cowl would save him from the axe, I wot, if -good king Richard got his hands upon him. What he comes for--why he -comes, I cannot tell you; for I only heard that their steps tended -hitherward, and the lackeys counted on drinking deep of the abbey ale. -But when that friar is beneath your roof, you will have a man beside -you, whose life is in much peril for stout adherence to the cause of -Lancaster."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Then he shall have shelter and protection here," said the abbess -boldly. "This is sanctuary, and I will not believe that Richard -himself--bad and daring as he is--would venture to violate the -church's rights."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Richard has two weapons, madam," answered the woodman, "and both -equally keen, his sword and his cunning; and take my word for it, what -he desires to do that he will do--ay, even to the violation of -sanctuary, though perhaps it may not be with his own hand or in his -own name. You have had one visit from a roving band who cared little -about holy church; and you may have another, made up of very different -men, with whom the king might deal tenderly if they did him good -service."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Then we will call in the tenants," said the abbess, "and defend our -rights and privileges."</p> - -<p class="normal">"The tenants might be outnumbered," said the woodman, shaking his -head. "There are many men straying about here, who would soon band -together at the thought of stripping the shrine of St. Clare; -especially if they had royal warranty for their necks' safety, and the -promise of farther reward, besides all their hands helped them to."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Then what is to be done?" exclaimed the abbess, in some -consternation. "I cannot and I will not refuse refuge to a consecrated -bishop, and one who has suffered persecution for the sake of his -rightful race of kings."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Nay, Heaven forbid," replied the woodman warmly; "but if you will -take a simple man's advice, lady, methinks I could show you a way to -save the bishop, and the abbey, and the ornaments of the shrine too."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Speak, speak," exclaimed the abbess eagerly. "Your advice is always -shrewd, goodman Boyd. What way would you have me take?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Should you ever have in sanctuary," answered the woodman, "a man so -hated by the king that you may expect rash acts committed to seize -him, and you find yourself suddenly attacked by a band that you cannot -resist, send your sanctuary man to me by some one who knows all the -ways well, and I will provide for his safety where they will never -find him. Then, be you prepared for resistance, but resist not if you -can help it. Parley with the good folks, and say that you know well -they would not come for the mere plunder of a consecrated place, that -you are sure they have come seeking a man impeached of high treason -who lately visited the abbey. Assure them that you sent him away, -which you then may well do in all truth, and offer to give admission -to any three or four to search for him at their will. Methinks, if -they are privately set on by higher powers, they will not venture to -do anything violent, when they are certain that success will not -procure pardon for the act."</p> - -<p class="normal">The abbess mused and seemed to hesitate; and, after a short pause, the -woodman added, "Take my advice, lady. I do not speak without -knowledge. Many a stray bit of news gets into the forest by one way or -another that is never uttered in the town. Now, a messenger stops to -talk with the woodman, and, overburdened with the secret, pours part -of it out, where he thinks it can never rise in judgment against him. -Then, a traveller asks his way, and gossips with his guide as he walks -along to put him in the right road. Every carter, who comes in for his -load of wood, brings some intelligence from the town. I am rightly -informed, lady, depend upon it."</p> - -<p class="normal">"It is not that; it is not that," said the abbess, somewhat peevishly. -"I was thinking whom I could send and how. If they surround the abbey -altogether, how could I get him out?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"There is the underground way to the cell of St. Magdalen," said the -woodman. "To surround the abbey, they would have to bring their men in -amongst the houses of the hamlet, and the cell is far beyond that."</p> - -<p class="normal">"True, but no one knows that way," said the abbess, "but you, and I, -and sister Bridget. I could trust her well enough, cross and -ill-tempered as she is; but then she has never stirred beyond the -abbey walls for these ten years, so that she knows not the way from -the cell to your cottage. I trust she knows the way to heaven better;" -and the abbess laughed.</p> - -<p class="normal">"'Twere easy to instruct some one else in the way to the cell," said -the woodman. "The passage is plain enough when the stone door is -open."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Ay, doubtless, doubtless," continued the abbess; "but you forget, my -good friend, that it is against our law to tell the secret way out to -any of the sisterhood, except the superior and the oldest nun. Mary -mother, I know not why the rule was made; but it has been so, ever -since bishop Godshaw's visitation in 1361."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I suppose he found the young sisters fond of tripping in the green -wood with the fairies of nights," answered the woodman, with one of -his short laughs; "but however, you are not forbidden to tell those -who are not of the sisterhood; otherwise, lady, you would not have -told me."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Nay, that does not follow," rejoined the abbess. "The head woodman -always knows, as the cell is under his charge and care, ever since the -poor hermit died. However, I do not recollect having vowed not to tell -the secret to any secular persons. The promise was only as to the -sisters--but whom could I send?</p> - -<p class="normal">"Iola? Nay, nay, that cannot be," said the abbess. "She is not of a -station to go wandering about at night, guiding strangers through a -wild wood. She is my niece, and an earl's daughter."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Higher folks than she have done as much," answered the woodman; "but -I did not think that the abbess of Atherston St. Clare would have -refused even her niece's help, to Morton, bishop of Ely."</p> - -<p class="normal">"The bishop of Ely!" cried the abbess. "Refuse him help? No, no, Boyd. -If it were my daughter or my sister, if it cost me life, or limb, or -fortune, he should have help in time of need. I have not seen him now -these twelve years; but he shall find I do not forget--Say no more, -goodman, say no more. I will send my niece, and proud may she be of -the task."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I thought it would be so, lady," answered the woodman; "but still one -word more. It were as well that you told the good lord bishop of his -danger, as soon as you can have private speech with him, and then take -the first hour after sundown to get him quietly away out of the abbey, -for to speak truth I much doubt the good faith of that Sir Charles -Weinants--I know not what he does with men of Lancaster--unless he -thinks, indeed, the tide is turning in favour of that house from which -it has ebbed away so long."</p> - -<p class="normal">Although they had said all they really had to say, yet the abbess and -the woodman carried on their conversation during some ten minutes or -quarter of an hour more, before they parted; and then the excellent -lady retired to her own little comfortable room again, murmuring to -herself: "He is a wise man, that John Boyd--rude as a bear sometimes; -but he has got a wit! I think those woodmen are always shrewd. They -harbour amongst the green leaves, and look at all that goes on in the -world as mere spectators, till they learn to judge better of all the -games that are playing than those who take part therein. They can look -out, and see, and meddle as little as we do, while we are shut out -from sight, as well as from activity."</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h3>CHAPTER III.</h3> -<br> - -<p class="normal">Under some circumstances, and upon some conditions, there are few -things fairer on this earth than a walk through a wild forest by -moonlight. It must not be, however, one of those deep unbroken -primeval forests, which are found in many parts of the new world, -where the wilderness of trees rises up, like a black curtain, on every -side, shutting out the view, and almost excluding the light of day -from the face of the earth. But a forest in old England, at the period -of which I speak, was a very different thing. Tall trees there were, -and many, and in some places they were crowded close together; but in -others the busy woodman's axe, and the more silent but more incessant -strokes of time, had opened out wide tracts, where nothing was to be -seen but short brushwood, stunted oak, beech tree and ash, rising up -in place of the forest monarchs long passed away, like the pigmy -efforts of modern races appearing amidst the ruins of those gigantic -empires, which have left memorials that still defy the power of time. -Indeed, I never behold a wide extent of old forest land, covered with -shrubby wood, with here and there a half-decayed trunk rising grandly -above the rest, without imagination flying far away to those lands of -marvel, where the wonders of the world arose and perished--the land of -the Pharaohs, of the Assyrians, and of the Medes; ay, and of the -Romans too--those lands in which the power and genius of the only -mighty European empire displayed themselves more wonderfully than even -in the imperial city, the land of Bolbec and Palmyra. The Arab's hut, -built amongst the ruins of the temple of the sun, is a fit type of -modern man, contrasted with the races that have passed. True, the -Roman empire was destroyed by the very tribes from which we spring; -but it was merely the dead carcase of the Behemoth eaten up by ants.</p> - -<p class="normal">Be all that as it may, an English forest scene is very beautiful by -moonlight, and especially when the air has been cleared by a light -frost, as was the case when the woodman took his way back towards his -cottage, after his visit to the abbey. The road was broad and -open--one of the highroads of the country, indeed--sandy enough, in -all conscience, and not so smooth as it might have been; but still it -served its purpose; and people in those days called it a good road. -Here, an old oak eighteen or twenty feet in girth, which might have -seen the noble ill-fated Harold, stretched its long limbs across the -turfy waste ground at its feet, and over the yellow track of the road -beaten by horses' feet. In other places the eye might wander far over -a wide scantily-covered track of ground, with here and there a tall -tree starting up and casting its broad shadow upon the white and -glistening expanse of bushes below. A vague sort of mysterious -uncertainty hung about the dells and dingles of the wood, -notwithstanding the brightness of the moonlight; and a faint blueish -mist prevented the eye from penetrating into the deeper valleys, and -searching their profundity. To the left, the ground sloped away with a -gentle descent. To the right, it rose somewhat more abruptly; and, -peeping over the leafless trees in the latter direction, appeared here -and there a square wall and tower, cutting sharp and defined upon the -rounded forms of the forest. Above all stretched out the wide deep -sky, with the moon nearly at the full, flooding the zenith with light, -while to, the north and west shone out many bright and twinkling -stars, not yet hidden by the beams of earth's bright satellite.</p> - -<p class="normal">With a slow and a firm step, the woodman trudged upon his way, pausing -every now and then to gaze around him, more, apparently, as a matter -of habit than with any purpose; for he seemed full of busy thoughts; -and even when he stopped and let his eye roam around, it is probable -that his mind was on other things, once or twice, murmuring a few -words to himself, which had certainly no reference to the scene. "Ah, -Mary, Mary," he said, and then added: "Alas! Alas!"</p> - -<p class="normal">There was something deeply melancholy in his tone. The words were -spoken low and softly; and a sigh followed them, the echo of memory to -the voice of joys passed.</p> - -<p class="normal">Onward he walked again, the road somewhat narrowing as he proceeded, -till at length the tall trees, pressing forward on either side, shut -out the light of the moon, except where, here and there, the rays -stole through the leafless branches and chequered the frosty turf.</p> - -<p class="normal">As he was passing through one of the darkest parts of the wood, -keeping a good deal to the left of the road, the sound of a horse's -feet was heard coming fast down from the top of the hill. Without -change of pace or look, however, the stout woodman walked on, seeming -to pay little attention to the measured beating of the ground by the -strong hoofs, as they came on at a quick trot. Nearer and nearer, -however, they approached, till at length they suddenly stopped, just -as the horse and rider were passing the man on foot, and a voice -exclaimed, "Who goes there?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"A friend," replied the woodman. "You must have sharp eyes, whoever -you be."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Sharp eyes and sharp ears too," replied the horseman. "Stand out, and -tell us who you are, creeping along there under the boughs."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Creeping along!" answered the woodman, advancing into the more open -road and placing himself in front of the rider. "I will soon tell you -who I am, and show you who I am too, master, when I know who it is -that asks the question. Since it comes to that, I bid you stand and -tell me who you are who ride the wood so late. You are none of King -Richard's posts, or you would know me;" and, at the same time, he laid -his hand upon the man's bridle.</p> - -<p class="normal">"You are a liar," replied the horseman, "for I am one of King -Richard's posts, coming from Scotland, with news of moment, and -letters from the princess countess of Arran. Let go my bridle then, -and say who and what you are, or, by the Lord, I'll drub you in such a -way as you have seldom been drubbed before."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Ha! Say you so?" cried the woodman, still retaining his hold of the -bridle. "I must have more satisfactory knowledge of you, ere I let you -pass; and, as for drubbing me, methinks with a green willow and a yard -or two of rope, I'd give thee that which thou hast not tasted since -thou wert a boy."</p> - -<p class="normal">"So, so," said the man, "thou art a robber, doubtless. These woods are -full of them, they say; but thou shalt find me a tougher morsel than -often falls within thy teeth. Take that for thy pains."</p> - -<p class="normal">As he spoke, he suddenly drew his sword from the sheath, and aimed a -rapid and furious stroke at the woodman's head. His adversary, -however, was wary; and, springing on one side, he escaped the descent -of the blade. The other instantly spurred his horse forward; but, -before he could pass, the woodman had pulled his axe from his belt, -and, with a full sweep of his arm, struck a blow at the back of the -horseman's head, which cast him at once out of the saddle. It was the -back of the axe which he used, and not the sharp side; but the effect -seemed equally fatal, for the man neither moved nor spoke, and his -horse, freed from the pressure of the rein, dashed down the lane for -some way, then stopped, paused for a moment, and trotted quietly back -again.</p> - -<p class="normal">In the meantime, the woodman approached the prostrate body of the -messenger, murmuring to himself, "Ah, caitiff, I know thee, though -thou hast forgotten me. Thou pitiful servant of treachery and -ingratitude, thou hireling serviceable knave, I would not have hurt -thee, even for thy master's sake, hadst thou not assailed me -first--Methinks he is dead," he continued, stirring the body with his -foot. "I hit thee harder than I thought; but it is well as it is. Thy -death could not come from a fitter hand than mine, were it not the -hangman's--I will see what thou hast about thee, however; for there -may be news of value indeed, if for once in thy life thou hast found a -tongue to speak truth with. But I will not believe it. The news was -too sure, the tale too sad to be false."</p> - -<p class="normal">He stood a moment or two by the corpse, gazing upon it in silence, but -without the slightest sign of sorrow or remorse. Those were bloody and -barbarous times, it is true, when men slew each other in cold blood -after battles were over, when brother spared not brother, and the -companions of infancy and boyhood dyed their daggers in each other's -gore. Human life, as in all barbarous states of society, was held as -nought; and men hesitated as little to spill the blood of a fellow -creature as to spill their own. But yet it must surely always be a -terrible thing to take a life, to extinguish that light which we can -never reillume, to fix the fatal barrier which renders every foolish -and every dark act, every sin and every crime, irretrievable, to leave -no chance of penitence, no hope of repentance, and to send the erring -and burdened spirit into the presence of its God without one dark -record against it uncancelled. Heavy must be the offence indeed, and -deep the injury, which leaves no sorrow in the heart of the slayer.</p> - -<p class="normal">None seemed to be felt by the woodman. He stood and gazed, as I have -said, for a moment; but it was--as he had gazed over the prospect -below--without a change of countenance; and then he stooped down and -with calm and patient investigation searched every part of the dead -man's apparel. He found, amongst other things, a purse well supplied -with gold, at least so its weight seemed to indicate; but that he put -back again at once. He found some papers too, and those he kept; but, -not satisfied with that, after some trouble he caught the horse, -examined the saddle, unloosed the girths, and between the saddle cloth -and the leather found a secret pocket from which he took more papers. -These too he kept, and put them in his wallet. Everything else, such -as trinkets, of which there were one or two, a pouncet-box, some large -curiously-shaped keys and other trifles, he carefully replaced where -he had found them. Then, taking up the dead man's hand, he raised it -and let it fall, as if to make sure that life was extinct; and then -once more he addressed the corpse, saying--</p> - -<p class="normal">"Ay, thou art dead enough! I could find in my heart to spurn thee even -now--but no, no. It is but the clay. The demon is departed," and -picking up his axe, which he had laid down for a moment, he carefully -replaced the saddle on the horse's back, fastened up the girths, and -cast loose the rein. When this was done he resumed his walk, -proceeding with the same quiet steady pace with which he had been -wending his way towards his cottage, the moment before this adventure -befell him. All remained calm and still on the spot which he had left, -for somewhat more than an hour. The moon reached her highest point, -travelled a little to the westward, and poured her rays under the -branches of the trees where before it had been dark. The dead body -still lay upon the road. The horse remained cropping the forest grass -at the side, occasionally entangling its foot in the bridle, and once -plunging to get free so as to bring itself upon its knees. At the end -of the time I have mentioned, the woodman reappeared, coming down the -hill at the same quiet rate at which he had gone away. When he -approached the place he stopped and looked around; and then, stooping -down by the side of the dead man, he placed some of the papers in the -pocket, saying with a sort of bitter smile, which looked wild and -strange in the moonlight--</p> - -<p class="normal">"Thy comings and goings are over; but others may carry these at least -to their destination. Oh, thou double-dealing fiend, thou hast died in -the midst of one of thy blackest deeds before it was consummated. The -messenger of the dove, thou wert but the agent of the hawk which was -watching for her as a prey, and would have betrayed her into all the -horrors of faithlessness and guilt. May God pardon thee, bad man -and--"</p> - -<p class="normal">Again there was the sound of horses' feet coming; but this time it was -mingled with that of voices, talking with loud and somewhat boisterous -merriment.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Some of the king's runners," said the woodman; and, with a slow step, -he retreated under the trees, and was soon lost to sight amidst the -thick brushwood. The next moment two men might be seen riding down the -hill and laughing as they came.</p> - -<p class="normal">"'Twill be pleasant tidings to bear," said one to the other; "and my -counsel is, Jago, instead of giving them to the next post, as thy -fool's head would have it, that we turn away through the by-road to -the abbey, and carry our good news ourselves. Why, that Richmond has -put back again to France, is worth fifty broad pieces to each of us."</p> - -<p class="normal">"But our orders were strict," answered the other; "and we have no -excuse.--But mercy have us! What is here? Some one either drunk or -dead upon the road. There stands his horse too, under that tree."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Look to your weapon, Jago," replied his companion. "On my life, this -is that fellow Malcolm Bower, who passed us three hours ago, as proud -as a popinjay; and I'll wager a stoup of Canary, that he has met with -robbers in the wood and been murdered."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Likely, likely," answered the other man, loosening his sword in the -sheath; "but if he have, king Richard will burn the forest down but -he'll find them; for this fellow is a great man with those he serves -now-a-days."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Here, hold my horse," cried the other. "I'll get down and see;" and, -dismounting, he stooped over the body, and then proceeded to examine -it, commenting in broken sentences, thus--"Ay, it is he, sure enough. -Stay, he can't be murdered, I think, either, for here is his purse in -his pocket, and that well filled--and papers too, and a silver box of -comfits, on my life. Look ye here now, his horse must have thrown him -and broken his neck. No, upon my life, it's his head is broken. Here's -a place at the back of his skull as soft as a Norfolk dumpling. What -shall we do with him?"</p> - -<p class="normal">A short consultation then ensued, as to how they should dispose of the -dead body, till at length it was agreed that the horse should be -caught, the corpse flung over it, and thus carried to the neighbouring -hamlet. This was effected without much trouble; and the whole scene -became wild, and silent, and solitary once more.</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h3>CHAPTER IV.</h3> -<br> - -<p class="normal">I must now introduce the reader to a scene then very common in -England, but which would now be sought for in vain--although, to some -of the habits of those times a large class of people have a strong -tendency to return. Round a little village green, having, as usual, -its pond--the merry-making place of ducks and geese--its two or three -clumps of large trees, and its two roads crossing each other in the -middle, were erected several buildings of very different look and -magnitude. Nearly three sides of the green were occupied by mere -hovels or huts, the walls of mud, the roofs rudely thatched, and the -windows of so small a size as to admit very little light into a -dwelling, which, during the working hours of each weary day, saw very -little of its laborious tenants. Amongst these were two larger houses, -built of stone, richly ornamented, though small in size, having glazed -windows, and displaying all the signs and tokens of the ecclesiastical -architecture of the day, though neither of them was a church or -chapel, but simply the dwelling-places of some secular priests, with a -small following of male choristers, who were not permitted to inhabit -any portion of the neighbouring abbey. Along the fourth side of the -green, where the ground rose considerably, extended an enormously high -wall, pierced in the centre with a fine old portal with two -battlemented turrets, one on either side. From the middle of the -green, so high was this wall and portal that nothing could be seen -beyond it. But, from the opposite side, the towers and pinnacles of -the abbey itself peeped up above the inclosure.</p> - -<p class="normal">If one followed the course of the wall, to the left as one looked -towards the abbey, passing between it and the swine-herd's cottage, -one came to a smaller door--a sort of sally-port, we should have -called it, had the place been a fortress--from which a path wound -away, down into a valley, with a stream flowing through it; and then, -turning sharp to the right at the bottom, the little footway ascended -again towards a deep old wood, on the verge of which appeared a small -Gothic building with a stone cross in front. The distance from the -abbey to St. Magdalen's cell, as it was called, was not in reality -very great in a direct line; but the path wound so much, in order to -avoid a steep rise in the ground and a deep ravine through which in -rainy weather flowed a torrent of water, that its length could not be -less than three quarters of a mile.</p> - -<p class="normal">The little door in the abbey wall, which I have mentioned, was strong -and well secured, with a loop-hole at each side for archers to shoot -through, in case of need. Over the door, too, was a semicircular -aperture, in which hung an enormously large bell, baptized in former -years, according to the ordinary custom, but which, whatever was the -name it received at its baptism, was known amongst the peasantry as -the "Baby of St. Clare." Now, whether St. Clare, whoever she was, had, -during the time of her mortal life, a baby or none, I cannot pretend -to say; but certain it is, that the good nuns were as angry at the -name which had been bestowed upon the bell, as if the attributing an -infant to their patroness had been a direct insult to each of them -individually.</p> - -<p class="normal">This bell was used only upon special occasions, the ordinary access to -the abbey being through the great gates; but, if any danger menaced in -the night, if any of the peasantry were taken suddenly ill after -sunset, if any of the huts in the hamlet caught fire--which was by no -means unusual--or any other business of importance occurred during the -hours of darkness, the good people of the neighbourhood applied to the -Baby of St. Clare, whose loud voice soon brought out one of the -inferior sisters to inquire what was the matter. Passing on from this -doorway, and leaving the path towards St. Magdalene's cell on the -left, one could circle round the whole extent of the walls, which -contained not less than five or six acres of ground. But no other -doorway was to be seen, till the great portal was again reached. The -walls themselves were of exceeding thickness, and had a walk all round -them on a sort of platform at the top. It would have required cannon -indeed to have effected a breach at any point; but, at the same time, -their great extent rendered them indefensible against the means of -escalade, by any force which the good sisters could call to their aid.</p> - -<p class="normal">Within the great portal was a large open court, flanked on three sides -by habitable buildings. To the right, was what was called the -visitors' lodging, where a very considerable number of persons could -be accommodated, in small rooms very tolerably furnished according to -the mode of the day. There, too, a large dining-hall afforded space -for the entertainment to the many guests who from time to time partook -of the abbey's hospitality. The opposite side was devoted to offices -for the lay sisters and servants of the abbey; and the space in front -of the great gates was occupied by the chapel, into one part of which -the general public was admitted, while the other, separated by a -richly-wrought stone screen, was assigned to the nuns themselves. A -small stone passage closed by an iron gate ran between the offices and -the chapel, and extended, round the back of the former and along the -north-western wall to the little doorway which I have mentioned; -while, on the other hand, an open door and staircase led to the -parlour, which I have mentioned in a preceding chapter, as that in -which friends or relatives might converse with any of the recluses, -through the grate which divided the room into two. Behind the chapel -was another court, cloistered all round, and beyond that the main body -of the building.</p> - -<p class="normal">All these arrangements would seem to show, and, indeed, such was the -intention, that the sisterhood were cut off from all immediate -communication with the male part of the race; but yet, in truth, -neither the order nor the abbey was a very strict one--so little so -that, twenty or thirty years before, the sisterhood had not altogether -escaped scandal. All occasion for gossiping tongues, however, had been -taken away by the conduct of the existing abbess, whose rule was firm -though mild; but, at the same time, she neither scrupled to indulge -her nuns in all innocent liberty, such as going out once or twice in -the year in parties of six or seven together, nor to use her own -powers of free action in receiving, even in the interior of the -building, during the day time, any of the officers of the abbey, -whether lay or clerical, with whom she might wish to speak, and in -going out mounted on her mule, and accompanied by several attendants, -to inspect the several estates of the foundation, or visit any of the -neighbouring towns. This just medium between extreme severity and -improper license secured her against all evil tongues; and the abbey -was in high repute at the time of which I speak.</p> - -<p class="normal">About one o'clock, on the day after the woodman's visit, which I have -described, some twenty or thirty people were gathered together on the -green just before the great portal. But this was no well-dressed and -splendid assemblage, no meeting of the high, the rich, and the lordly. -It was a very motley band, in which rags and tatters greatly -predominated. The most aristocratic of the crowd was probably an -itinerant piper, who, with an odd-shaped cap on his head, somewhat -like the foot of an old stocking, but spreading out at the edges in -the fashion of a basin, had a good coarse brown cloth coat on his -back, and hosen on his legs, which, though not new, were not in holes. -He kept his bag tight under his arm, not venturing to regale the -devout ears of the nuns with the sounds of his merry minstrelsy; but -he promised himself and his fellows to cheer their hearts with a tune -after their daily dole had been distributed, to receive which was the -object of their coming.</p> - -<p class="normal">They were not kept long waiting, indeed; for one of the elder sisters -soon appeared, followed by two stout serving women, dressed in grey -gowns, with white hoods and wimples, each carrying an enormous basket -filled with large hunches of bread and fragments of broken meat. The -contents of these panniers were distributed with great equity, and -savoured with a few words, sometimes of ghostly advice, sometimes of -reproach, and sometimes of consolation.</p> - -<p class="normal">Thus it was, "There Hodge, take that, and do not grumble another time -as thou didst yesterday. A contented heart makes food wholesome; and -you, Margery Dobson, I do wonder that you do not think it shame to -live upon the abbey dole, with those good stout hands of yours."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Ah, dear mother," replied the person she addressed, in a whining -tone; "that is always the way. Everything goes by seeming. I vow I am -dropsical all over; and then folks say it is all fat. I could no more -do a day's work like another, than I could take up the abbey tower and -carry it off."</p> - -<p class="normal">The good sister shook her head, and went on to another, saying--</p> - -<p class="normal">"Ah! Jackson, if you would but quit your vile drunken ways, you need -never come here for the dole. Two hours' work each day would furnish -you with as much food as you get here in a week. Ah, Janet Martin, my -poor thing," she continued, addressing a woman, who had contrived to -add some little scraps of black to the old gown which she wore, "there -were no need to give you any of the dole, for the lady abbess will -send down to you by and by; but here, as there is plenty for all -to-day, take this for yourself and the babes. I dare say they'll eat -it."</p> - -<p class="normal">The woman made a melancholy gesture with her head, replying merely--</p> - -<p class="normal">"They have not tasted a morsel since last night, sister Alice."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Well, take heart, take heart," answered the nun in a kindly tone. -"You can't tell what may be coming. We are all very sorry for you and -for your poor children; and your good husband who is no more, rest his -soul, has our prayers night and morning."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Blessings upon you, sister Alice, and upon the house," replied the -poor widow; and the nun turned to the itinerant musician.</p> - -<p class="normal">"What, Sam the piper come back from Tamworth. I trust, brother, you -remembered all your promises, and did not get drunk at the fair."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Never was drunk once," replied the piper boldly; but the next moment, -he turned his head partly over his shoulder, and winked shrewdly with -his eye, adding, "The ale was so thin that a butt of it would not have -tipsied a sucking lamb. So I have little credit; for my well-seasoned -staves would have drunk the whole beer in the town without rolling. -But nevertheless, I was moderate, very moderate, and drank with due -discretion--seeing that the liquor was only fit to season sow's meat. -Well, I wot, they got very little grains out of each barrel; and I -hope he that brewed it has had as bad a cholic as I have had ever -since."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Well, get you each to the buttery, one by one as you are served; and -there you will get a horn of ale which won't give you the cholic, -though it won't make you drunk," said the good sister; and then, -beckoning to the piper, she enquired in an easy tone: "What news was -stirring at Tamworth, Sam Piper? There's always something stirring -there, I think."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Bless your holy face," answered the piper; "there was little enough -this time. Only, just as the fair was over, some gay nobles came -in--looking for King Richard, I wot; and a gorgeous train they made of -it; but if it was the King they sought, they did not find him, for he -has gone on to Nottingham with his good Queen."</p> - -<p class="normal">"But who were they? Who were they?" asked the nun, who was not without -her share of that curiosity so common among recluses. "And were they -so very splendid? How many had they in their following?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Why, first and foremost, lady," replied the piper, with a tone and -air of secrecy and importance, "there was the young earl of Chartley. -Marry, a gay and handsome gentleman as ever you set eyes on. I saw him -come up to the inn door, and speak to mine host; and every other word -was a jest, I'll warrant. What a wit he has, and how he did run on. It -was nothing but push and thrust, from beginning to end. Then, as for -his dress, it might have suited a prince, full of quaint conceits and -beautiful extravagance. Why his bonnet was cut all round in the -Burgundy fashion, for all the world like the battlements of a castle -made in cloth, and a great white feather lolling down till it touched -his left shoulder."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Oh, vanity, vanity!" cried the nun. "How these young men do mock -Heaven with their vanities! But what more, good brother?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Why then there were the sleeves of his gown," continued the piper; -"what they were intended for I can't tell, unless to blow his nose -with; but they were so long and fell so heavy with the sables that -trimmed them, that I thought every minute the horse would set his feet -on them. But no such thing; and though somewhat dusty he seemed fresh -enough."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Well, well," said the nun. "Come to the point, and tell us no more -about dress, for I care not for such vanities."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Good faith, but there were some pieces of it would have made you -care," replied the piper. "However, I do not know what you mean by the -point."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Who were the other people; for you said there were many?" demanded -the nun sharply.</p> - -<p class="normal">"So there were, so there were," replied the wandering musician. "There -was Sir Edward Hungerford, a gay gallant of the court, not so handsome -as the other, but as grandly dressed; and then there was Sir Charles -Weinants, a very reverend and courtly gentleman, with comely grey -hair. There--talking of reverencies--there was a godly friar with a -grey gown and shaven crown."</p> - -<p class="normal">"That speaks well for the young lords," observed the nun. "They cannot -be such idle little-thrifts as you make them out, if they travel -accompanied by a holy man."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Nay, Heaven forbid that I should make them out idle little-thrifts," -replied the piper. "I think them serious sober-minded gentlemen; for, -besides the friar, they had with them, I wot, a black slave, that is -to say not quite black, for I have seen blacker, but a tawny Moor, -with silver bracelets on his arms, and a turban on his head."</p> - -<p class="normal">"How does that show them serious sober-minded gentlemen?" asked the -nun.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Because I fancy they must have been to the Holy Land to fetch him," -answered the piper; "but what is more to their credit than all else, -they love minstrels, for the young lord at their head gave me a York -groat, which is more than I had taken in all the fair."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Minstrels!" cried the nun, with a toss of her head. "Marry! call'st -thou thyself a minstrel, piper?"</p> - -<p class="normal">But before her companion could reply, three men rode into the little -circle, formed by the houses upon the green, and approached the great -portal of the abbey. One of these, by his dress and appearance, seemed -to be a principal servant in the house of some great man. Another was -an ordinary groom; but the third was altogether of a different -appearance, being a man of almost gigantic stature, dressed in -oriental costume, with which, his brown skin, strongly-marked -features, and large deep black eyes, were in perfect harmony. He wore -a crooked scimitar by his side, a short cane spear was in his hand, -and his seat in the saddle of the beautiful black horse he rode would -have distinguished him at once as the native of another land. He was -magnificently dressed, as was usually the case with the eastern -slaves, of which not a few were to be found in Europe, even at that -time; for although the epidemic madness of the crusades was over, yet -the malady from time to time attacked a number of individuals, and we -find that towards the end of the fifteenth century, between two and -three hundred thousand persons were assembled from different countries -in Rome, with the professed object of making war upon the infidels. -They were without leaders, undertook little, and executed less; but if -one of the noblemen or gentlemen, who set out upon those wild -enterprises, could bring home with him two or three Mahommedan slaves, -he thought he had performed a great feat, and judged himself worthy of -the name of a crusader.</p> - -<p class="normal">The very approach of a follower of Mahound, however, was an -abomination to the good nun, who had never seen such a thing before; -and, taking a step back at the aspect of the Moor, she crossed herself -devoutly. "Sancta Clara, ora pro nobis," she uttered devoutly, and -seemed to derive both consolation and courage from the ejaculation; -for she maintained her ground, although the Moor rode close up to her -with his companions--nay, she even examined his garb with a critical -eye, and internally pronounced the yellow silk, of which his gabardine -was composed, the most beautiful she had ever seen in her life.</p> - -<p class="normal">She was not subjected to the shock of any conversation with the -infidel however; for the person who addressed her was the good-looking -elderly man, dressed as one of the principal servants of a high -family. Dismounting from his horse with due decorum, he presented a -letter for the lady abbess, and requested that it might be conveyed to -her immediately, saying, that he would wait there for an answer.</p> - -<p class="normal">The nun pressed him to enter the court and take some refreshment in -the visitors' lodging, looking askance at the Moor all the time, and -seeming to doubt whether she ought to include him in the invitation. -The steward, or whatever he might be, declined, however, stating that -he must return immediately when he had received an answer, as to -whether the lady abbess would extend her hospitality to his lord; and -the nun, usurping the function of the porteress, carried in the letter -herself. An answer was soon brought, by word of mouth, that the Lord -Chartley and his friends were right welcome; and the servants departed -on the road by which they came. Cooks and scullions were immediately -put in requisition, and all the good things which the woodman had sent -up were speedily being converted into delicate dishes for the table of -the guests.</p> - -<p class="normal">Such a scene had not been displayed in the kitchen of the abbey since -the visitation of the bishop; but hour after hour passed by without -the arrival of the expected company, till the cooks began to fear that -the supper would be spoilt; and the beggars, who had lingered about -the gate, in the hope of alms, grew weary of waiting, and dropped off -one by one. It was not till the sun had set, and the whole sky was -grey, that a distant trumpet was heard, and the sacristan of the -chapel, from one of the highest towers, perceived a dark and -indistinct mass which might be men and horses coming up the slope of -the hill.</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h3>CHAPTER V.</h3> -<br> - -<p class="normal">Much did the good nuns wonder, why and wherefore such splendid -preparations had been made by the abbess, for the reception of a young -nobleman and his companions, none of whom, as far as they knew, bore -any prominent part in the state. Had it been a bishop, a mitred abbot, -or even a dean, they could have understood such a magnificent -reception. A duke or a prince would have been worthy of it; but, "Who -was Lord Chartley? What claim had he upon the abbey?"</p> - -<p class="normal">If they were surprised, however, at that which went on in the -kitchen--and they all found out sooner or later what was taking place -there--previous to the arrival of the guests; if they commented upon -the arrangements made for feasting the number of forty in the -strangers' hall, while the abbess herself with the old prioress, who -was as deaf as a post, proposed to entertain the principal visitors in -a room apart, how much more were they surprised when, on its being -announced that the train was approaching, the lady herself went out -into the court, with her two nieces, and her usual attendants upon -state occasions, and waited nearly opposite the principal door of the -chapel to receive her visitors in form. Much did they remark upon -these facts; and much did they whisper among themselves; but still the -abbess pursued her course, though, it must be confessed, it was with -some degree of perturbation, which was very evident, in a slight -degree of nervousness of manner, and in a variation of colour which -was not common with her.</p> - -<p class="normal">She was not kept in the court long before the first horseman rode -through the portal; and, without waiting for grooms or horse-boys to -come up, the young Lord Chartley himself sprang to the ground, and -advancing with an easy and graceful air, bonnet in hand, paid his -respects to the superior of the convent. Nay, more, with a gay light -sort of gallantry, fitted perhaps rather for the court than the -cloister, he pressed his lips upon the hand of the abbess, and looked -very much as if he would willingly have made them acquainted with the -cheeks of the two beautiful girls by whom she was accompanied.</p> - -<p class="normal">"A thousand thanks, dear lady," he said, "for your kindly welcome. Let -me crave pardon for having detained you so long; but some business -stopped us by the way. Let me present to you my friends, Sir Charles -Weinants, a wise and sage negotiator, deep in the secret mysteries of -courts, and most discreet in all his doings--trust him with no -secrets, lady," he added, laughing; "for though he may not betray -them, he will use them as his high policy may dictate. Then here is -Sir Edward Hungerford, the pink of all perfection and the winner of -all hearts, the web of whose courtesy is the most superfine, and who -is very dangerous to all ladies not under vows. Then here again is my -friend, Sir William Arden, whose character you must not take from -himself, whose looks are rougher than his intentions, and his words -harder than his heart."</p> - -<p class="normal">"And his heart harder than your head, my good lord," said the -gentleman of whom he last spoke, who had just dismounted from his -horse. "Marry! my lady abbess, I only wonder how you let such a -rattle-pated young lordling within your gates. I would not, if I were -you; and were he to ride twenty miles further before he got his supper -it would do him good."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Not so, I think," said Sir Edward Hungerford. "I never knew any good -come to a man by riding without his supper, especially when he left -bright eyes and beautiful faces behind him;" and, after fixing his -look for a moment upon the abbess herself, he glanced meaningly to the -faces of her two companions.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Peace, peace, my children," said the elder lady. "I must not let you -forget where you are, and what ears hear you. This is no court, or -hall, or place of light amusement. Cease your fine speeches then, and -remember this is the abbey of Atherston St. Clare."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Ay, he would soon make it a ribald's den," said Sir William Arden, -bluffly; "but you have forgot the priest, my lord. You should make all -reverend people acquainted with each other."</p> - -<p class="normal">"True, true!" cried Lord Chartley. "This my dear lady, is a very -reverend friend of mine, called Father William, who has lived long in -foreign lands. Let me recommend him to your especial care and -kindness; for he has but feeble health, and will partake of your -hospitality for the night, while we, I grieve to say, are forced to -ride forward by the moonlight."</p> - -<p class="normal">He laid strong emphasis on some of his words; and the abbess raised -her eyes to the face of the friar, who was gazing at her with a calm -and steady look. A glance however seemed enough, for she instantly -turned her eyes away again, welcoming the priest in vague and general -terms. She then proceeded to explain to Lord Chartley and his -companions, that, as they had come so late, they must put off their -meal till after compline, which would be in half an hour. The service -in the chapel, she said, at which she invited them all to attend, -would occupy about ten minutes, and in the mean time she gave them -over to the lay officers of the abbey, who would attend to their -comfort and convenience. After compline, she added, she would receive -the gentlemen who had been introduced to her, to sup in the small -parlour, while the rest of the party would be entertained in the hall.</p> - -<p class="normal">Having given this explanation, she was about to retire; but Lord -Chartley, following her a few steps, said something in a low voice, to -which she replied:--</p> - -<p class="normal">"Certainly, my son. You will find me at the grate in five minutes. -That passage to the left will lead you."</p> - -<p class="normal">"There now," exclaimed Sir Edward Hungerford, who had remarked his -companion's proceedings. "Chartley is asking her if she can spare him -one of those two fair girls to solace his moonlight ride to Leicester. -'Tis thus he always forestalls the market. Upon my life he should give -us poor knights a fair chance."</p> - -<p class="normal">"You would spoil the fairest chance on earth, with your foppery," said -Sir William Arden, a strong-built dark-complexioned man of about -forty. "The bargain is soon struck at all events, for here he comes;" -and the young nobleman, having rejoined the rest, followed some of the -servants of the abbey to the rooms allotted to them, where ewers and -towels were prepared to wash before the evening meal.</p> - -<p class="normal">A very few minutes afterwards, the young Lord Chartley crossed the -court, and ascended to the grate across the parlour. There was nobody -there; and he looked to the great bell, hesitating whether he should -ring it or not. Before he decided, however, a light appeared on the -other side; and the abbess presented herself, preceded by a nun -bearing a taper, who departed as soon as she had set down the light. -Lord Chartley was not a man to hesitate or stumble at any step he was -inclined to take; but, for an instant, he did hesitate on the present -occasion; and, as the abbess hesitated too, the conversation seemed -not likely to begin very soon.</p> - -<p class="normal">The silence indeed continued so long, that at length the young lord -began to feel there was something ridiculous in it; and, bursting into -a gay laugh, he said, "Pardon my merriment, lady, for I cannot help -feeling that it is very absurd to stand thinking of what I shall say, -like a school-boy, though the subject I wish to speak upon is a -serious one. I almost hoped that you would have helped me, for I could -not but think that there was a glance of recognition in your eyes, -when I introduced to you one of my companions below."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Nay, my son," replied the abbess; "it was for you to speak. I could -not tell that you yourself had cognizance of what you were doing."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Then you did remember him?" exclaimed Lord Chartley. "That is all -well! One part of the difficulty is over, and the greatest. You know -that his liberty, if not his life, is in peril, if he is discovered. -Yet it is needful that he should remain in this neighbourhood for some -days, if possible; and he has directed me to ask if you will give him -protection, and, should need be, concealment, on account of -friendships long ago."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Tell him, my lord, I would do so at peril of my life," replied the -abbess; "but, at the same time, it is right he should know to what -security he trusts. The walls of the abbey are strong and solid; but, -alas, we have not men enough within call, to defend them in case of -need; and I have been warned that King Richard's people are hunting -for him shrewdly. Should they track him here, they may use force which -I cannot resist."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Then, dear lady, you will be free from all blame, if you are -compelled to give him up," replied Lord Chartley. "Force cannot be -resisted without force; and no one can be censured for yielding to -necessity, just as a very brave dog may well turn tail at a lion."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Nay, my good lord, not quite so," replied the abbess. "We poor women -know that wit will often baffle strength; and I think I can provide -for his safety, even should the gates be forced and the abbey -searched. There is a way out, which no one knows nor can discover but -myself and two others. By it I can convey him into the heart of the -wood, where it would take an army, or a pack of hounds, to find him. I -can provide guidance and assistance for him, and I trust that we can -set his persecutors at nought, though there may be some peril and some -anxiety. Pray tell him all this, that he may consider and choose what -he will do."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Good faith, he has no choice," answered Lord Chartley, "but this, or -to go forward to Leicester, into the very lion's mouth. He is brave -enough in a good cause, as you would see, if you knew amidst what -perils he travels even now."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Ay, my lord, of that I would fain inquire," replied the nun. "'Tis -needful to be cautious--very cautious--in times and circumstances like -these; and not even to you would I have said aught of my remembrance, -had you not spoken first. Now, tell me, do your companions know aught -of who it is that journeys with them?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Not one of them," replied the young lord, "unless it be the subtle -Sir Charles Weinants; and he affects to see nothing. I have some -doubts of him indeed; and if it be as I think, he and the bishop have -been playing a game against each other during our whole journey for -somewhat mighty stakes. If you can but give our friend security for -three days he has won the game."</p> - -<p class="normal">"God grant it," cried the abbess; "and, with the help of the Blessed -Virgin, I hope we shall succeed; but I much fear, my noble son, that -what we are this day doing may call down upon us the wrath of Richard -of Gloucester."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I trust not, I trust not, dear lady," replied the young lord. "Were I -and my companions and all our train to stay, it might indeed create -suspicion; but no one will or can know that we leave the good priest -here to-night, so that, if any doubts have arisen, pursuit will follow -us in the first place, rather than turn towards the abbey. This is in -truth the reason why I ride on to-night. I would rather lure enmity -away from you, believe me, than bring it upon you. But, I trust there -is no danger. Everything seemed calm and peaceful, when we left -Tamworth--no men at arms about, no appearance of doubt or suspicion."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I do not know, my son. I do not know," replied the abbess. "I had -warning of your coming last night. I had warning, too, that danger -might follow."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Indeed!" exclaimed Lord Chartley, with a look of much surprise. "This -is strange news. May I ask who was your informant?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"One whom I can trust well," answered the abbess, "though he be a man -of humble station; none other than our chief woodman, John Boyd. By -one means or another, he learns all that takes place in the country -round; and he gave me notice, not only that you were on the way -hither, but that you had one with you to whom I should be called upon -to give refuge, and for whose safety I must provide. It is to this -very man's care and guidance, in case of need, that I must trust the -bishop."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Hush!" cried Lord Chartley, looking round. "Let us mention no names. -I am called rash and careless, light and over-gay, but, where a -friend's safety is at stake, I must be more thoughtful than I would be -for myself. Pardon me for my asking if you are very sure of this good -man."</p> - -<p class="normal">The abbess gave him every assurance in her power, bringing forward all -those strong motives for trusting the woodman, which were quite -conclusive in her eyes, as they would indeed have been in the eyes of -most other ladies, but which did not seem to satisfy her young but -more experienced companion. He asked where the woodman lived, and -mused; then enquired how long he had been in the service of the abbey; -and was still putting questions when the bell for compline rang, and -the abbess was forced to retire.</p> - -<p class="normal">On descending to the court, Lord Chartley found Sir Charles Weinants -and the priest, walking up and down before the chapel, not conversing -together indeed, for the latter seemed somewhat silent and gloomy. -With him the young nobleman much desired to speak; but he thought that -it might be dangerous to connect his conference with the abbess in any -degree with the priest, even by addressing him immediately afterwards; -and therefore, turning at once to Sir Charles Weinants, he exclaimed: -"Now, Weinants, let us into the chapel. It is quite dark; and I am -somewhat eager for our supper, to fortify us against our evening's -ride."</p> - -<p class="normal">The priest said not a word, but followed the other two as they -advanced towards the place of worship, from which the light of tapers -and the sweet tones of the chant were beginning to pour forth.</p> - -<p class="normal">"I am hungry too," replied Weinants, "and agree with you, my good -lord, that a good supper is a very necessary preparation for a long -ride. I hope they will sing quick, for by my faith, even from Tamworth -here, I find, has been a good medicine for a slow digestion. You need -not look round for the others. They are all in waiting eagerly for -this grace before meat--except indeed your infidel, who was lolling in -the stable with his arms round his horse's neck. I should not wonder -if the beast were a princess in disguise, changed into that shape by -some friendly magician, in order that she might share his captivity."</p> - -<p class="normal">"The most probable thing in the world," replied Chartley, "but -undoubtedly, were I in his place, I should prefer my lady mistress -with less hair upon her face; but come, let us cease our jokes; for -here we are; and you will perhaps scandalize our reverend friend -here."</p> - -<p class="normal">Thus saying, they entered the chapel and placed themselves by one of -the pillars while the service proceeded.</p> - -<p class="normal">If the ceremonial observances of the Romish church are many, the -services have at all events the advantage of being brief; and, on this -occasion, the visitors of the abbey were detained for even a shorter -space of time than the abbess had mentioned. As soon as the last notes -of the chant were over, the abbess and her nuns retired from their -latticed gallery; and then, for the first time, she notified to her -nieces that she expected them to assist her in entertaining her -guests.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Oh, my dear aunt, pray excuse me," exclaimed Iola, while Constance -submitted quite quietly. "I would rather a thousandfold sup alone in -the penitential cell, than with all these men. They have frightened -me out of my wits once to-night already, especially that gay -gossamer-looking youth, whom the young lord called Hungerford."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I must have it so, Iola," replied her aunt. "I have my reasons for -it, so no nonsense, child. As for men," she continued, resuming a -gayer tone, "you will soon find, when more accustomed to them, they -are not such furious wild beasts as they seem. With them, as with -bulls and dogs, they are only dangerous to those who are frightened at -them. Treat them boldly and repel them sharply, and they soon come -fawning and crouching at your feet. Man is a very contemptible animal, -my dear child, if you did but know all. However, you shall sit beside -the priest--between him and the young lord, so you will escape the -other, who is but one of the empty courtiers of the day, such as I -recollect them in my youth--a sort of thing that a woman of spirit -could squeeze to death as she would a wasp in a hawking-glove. I dare -say Constance does not fear him."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I would rather not sit near him," replied the other quietly. "His -perfumes make me sick. I would rather not live next door neighbour to -a civet cat. Let me entertain the bluff old gentleman, aunt. His rough -speeches are much more pleasant to my ear than all the other's soft -sayings."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Don't call him old to his face, Constance," replied her aunt, "or his -sayings will be rough enough, depend upon it. Why I do not think he is -forty, child; and no man ever thinks himself old till he has told up -to seventy, and then he begins to fancy he is growing aged, and had -better begin to lead a new life."</p> - -<p class="normal">The two girls laughed gaily; and in a few minutes they were seated, as -had been arranged, at the plentiful table which had been prepared for -their aunt's distinguished guests. I will not pause upon the feast. -The reader is well aware of the abundant provision which had been made -by the worthy woodman, and would be but little edified to hear of the -strange ways in which the various dishes were dressed, or the odd -sauces with which they were savoured.</p> - -<p class="normal">The meal, as was usual in those days, lasted a long while; and the -conversation was somewhat more gay and lively than one would be -inclined to imagine was common within the walls of a convent. At -first, indeed, it was somewhat stiff and restrained; but there was a -gay, careless, happy spirit in the bosom of the young nobleman, who -sat beside the abbess, which soon banished the restraint of fresh -acquaintance, and made every one feel as if they had known him for -years. This was less difficult to effect with the elder lady than with -Iola who sat on his other hand; but even she could not resist the -current long; and a certain degree of timidity, the natural fruit of -retirement from the world, gave way under the influence of his -cheerful tone, till she caught herself laughing and talking gaily with -him, and suffering unconsciously all the fresh thoughts of a bright -pure heart to well forth like the waters of a spring. She paused and -blushed deeply, when first she suddenly discovered that such was the -case; and, bending down his head, for the conversation at the moment -was general and loud, he said, with a kind and graceful smile, but in -a low tone--</p> - -<p class="normal">"Nay, nay, close not the casket! The jewels are well worthy of being -seen."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I know not what you mean, my lord;" she said, blushing more deeply -than before.</p> - -<p class="normal">"I mean," he answered, "that, judging by your look and sudden pause, I -think you have just found out that the door of the heart and the mind -has been partly opened to the eye of a stranger,--though it is but by -a chink,--and I would fain have you not close it against him, with the -key of cold formality. In a word, let us go on as if you had not made -the discovery, and do not draw back into yourself, as if you were -afraid of letting your real nature come abroad lest it should take -cold."</p> - -<p class="normal">Whether she would or not, a smile came upon her lip; and, after a -minute's pause, she answered frankly--</p> - -<p class="normal">"Well, I will not. It is but for a little time that it can take the -air."</p> - -<p class="normal">At that moment the general conversation seemed to drop; and Lord -Chartley saw the eye of the abbess turned towards him.</p> - -<p class="normal">"It is excellent good," he said aloud, "made into a pie; but, I hate -pasties of all kinds, if it be but for hiding under a thick crust the -good things they contain. Nevertheless, it is excellent good."</p> - -<p class="normal">"What?" asked the abbess.</p> - -<p class="normal">"A squirrel," replied Lord Chartley. "Oh, there is nothing like your -gay clambering nutcracker, who scrambles about from branch to branch, -drinking the dew of heaven, leaping through the free air, and feeding -on the topmost fruits, of which he must ever crack the shell to get at -the kernel. He is excellent in a pasty, I assure you. Is he not, -Hungerford?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Exceeding good," answered the knight, from the other side of the -table; "but a young pea-fowl is better."</p> - -<p class="normal">In this sort of conversation passed the time; and Iola, to say sooth, -was amused and pleased. She did not, however, forget to show kind -attention to the friar on her right; and he, on his part, seemed -pleased and interested by her manner towards him. He spoke little, -indeed; but all that he did say was powerful and pointed. Iola, -however, could not but remark that he eat hardly anything, while the -others seemed to enjoy the dainties prepared for them highly; and she -pressed him kindly to take more food.</p> - -<p class="normal">"I am much fatigued, my daughter," he said aloud, "and do not feel -well to-night. The less, therefore, I take perhaps the better."</p> - -<p class="normal">Lord Charley instantly caught at the words--</p> - -<p class="normal">"Nay, good father," he said, "were it not better for you to take a -little repose in your chamber, before we ride? I have marked all the -evening that you seemed ill."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Perhaps it were as well," answered the friar, rising; "but let me not -abridge your enjoyment. I will find my way to my lodging and lie down -for a while;" and, thus saying, he quitted the room.</p> - -<p class="normal">The slightest possible smile curled the lip of Sir Charles Weinants. -It passed away instantly; but it had been remarked; and, being the -most discreet man in the world, he felt that the smile was an -indiscretion, and, to cover it, asked in a gay but ordinary tone--</p> - -<p class="normal">"Why, what is the matter with the friar? You have knocked him up, my -excellent lord, with your quick travelling. The poor man, I should -think, is not accustomed to the back of a hard-trotting horse; and we -rode those last ten miles in less than an hour."</p> - -<p class="normal">"He seems, indeed, a good deal tired," replied Chartley; "but I think -it was yesterday's journey, rather than to-day's, that so much -fatigued him. We rode full forty miles before we met with you, and -five or six afterwards. You know, I never think, Weinants, or I should -have had more compassion."</p> - -<p class="normal">Here the conversation dropped; and, after sitting at table for about -half an hour longer, the whole party rose, and Lord Chartley bade a -graceful adieu to the abbess, saying--</p> - -<p class="normal">"I trust that my poor friend, father William, is by this time well -enough to proceed."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Can you not leave him here, my son?" said the abbess. "He shall be -well tended, and gladly entertained."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Oh, no, no;" replied the young nobleman. "I dare say he is well -enough now; and I am bound to my own paternal castle, dear lady, and -about to establish for the first time therein a regular household. I -must take him with me; therefore, if it be possible, for an almoner is -the first great requisite. Farewell then, with many grateful thanks -for your hospitality. I will not forget the subjects on which we -spoke; and they shall have immediate attention."</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h3>CHAPTER VI.</h3> -<br> - -<p class="normal">The trumpet sounded on the green beyond the walls; and by torch and -lantern light the young lord and his companions mounted in the court -before the chapel, and rode forth to join their attendants, after -bestowing some rich gifts upon the abbey. Though the sky was not -unclouded, for there were large masses of heavy vapour rolling -across the southern part of the horizon, and the night was much warmer -than that which had preceded, auguring rain to the minds of the -weather-wise, yet the moon was bright and clear, displaying every -object upon the little green as clearly almost as if it had been day. -Though not very fond of deeds of darkness, young Lord Chartley perhaps -might have wished the beams of the fair planet not quite so bright. At -all events, he seemed in a great hurry to proceed upon his journey, -without any very strict inspection of his band; for he exclaimed at -once--</p> - -<p class="normal">"Now, Arden; now, Weinants; let us on at a quick canter. We shall -sleep well tonight."</p> - -<p class="normal">But the eye of Sir Charles Weinants scanned the party by the moonlight -more accurately than that of his companion; and he demanded aloud--</p> - -<p class="normal">"Why, where is the friar?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"He is too unwell to ride on to-night. He will follow to-morrow," said -Lord Chartley, in a careless tone; and, striking his horse with the -spur, he proceeded, but not before he had remarked Sir Charles -Weinants make a very particular sign to one of his own attendants. The -knight raised his finger to his lips, pointed with his thumb to the -abbey, and then held up two fingers of the same hand. No sooner was -this done than he shook his rein, and followed his companion, -apparently unconscious that he had been observed.</p> - -<p class="normal">For a minute or two the young lord seemed uneasy, riding on in -silence, and frequently giving a sharp glance round to those who came -behind; but he soon recovered his equanimity, I might say -cheerfulness, for he laughed and talked gaily with those around him, -especially when they came to that part of the road where, passing -through the forest, it ascended a hill so steep that the pace of the -horses was necessarily slackened. Sir Charles Weinants, for his part, -joined in, with his quiet gentlemanly cheerfulness, and seemed -perfectly free and unembarrassed.</p> - -<p class="normal">The subject of their conversation, it is true, was not a very merry -one; for they soon began to speak of the discovery of a dead man lying -on that very road, the night before--killed, as was supposed, by a -fall from his horse--an account of which they had received at the -abbey, where the corpse was still lying. Light-hearted superficial -man, however, rarely suffers any event which happens to his neighbours -to produce any very deep or permanent impression on himself; and it is -wonderful how merry that party of gentlemen made themselves with the -fate of the dead man.</p> - -<p class="normal">"See what it is to go too fast, Weinants," said Lord Chartley. -"Doubtless this fellow was riding a hired horse, and thought he might -ride him, up hill and down dale, as hard as he liked; and so the poor -beast threw him to get rid of an unpleasant burden."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Served him quite right, I dare say," said bluff Sir William Arden.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Why, how can you know, Arden?" demanded Sir Edward Hungerford, who -was riding his own beast in the most delicate and approved manner of -the times. "He might be as virtuous as an anchorite for aught you -know."</p> - -<p class="normal">"The best man that ever lived," answered Arden, "deserves every hour -to break his neck, and worse too; and there never yet was a king's -courier, which they say this was, who is not worthy of the pillory -from the moment he puts the livery on his back. A set of vermin. I -wish I had but the purifying of the court. You would see very few -ears, or noses either, walking about the purlieus of the palace; and -as for couriers, I'd set them upon horseback, and have relays of men -behind them, to flog them on from station to station, for two or three -thousand miles, till they dropped off dead from fatigue and -starvation--I would indeed. They should neither have meat, nor drink, -nor sleep, nor rest, till they expired."</p> - -<p class="normal">Lord Chartley laughed, for he knew his friend well; and Sir Charles -Weinants enquired--</p> - -<p class="normal">"Why, what do the poor wretches do, to merit such high indignation, -Arden?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Do!" exclaimed the other. "What do they not do? Are they not the -petty tyrants of every inn and every village? Do they not think -themselves justified by the beastly livery they wear, to rob every -host and every farmer, to pay for nothing that they take, to drink ale -and wine gratis, to kiss the daughter, seduce the wife, and ride the -horses to death, because they are on a king's service, forsooth--out -upon the whole race of them. We have not a punishment within the whole -scope of our criminal law that is not too good for them."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Hush, hush, Arden," cried Lord Chartley, laughing again; "if you do -not mind, Weinants will tell the king; and it will be brought in high -treason."</p> - -<p class="normal">"How so, how so?" demanded Sir William Arden, with a start; for the -very name of high treason was a serious affair in those days, when the -axe was seldom long polished before it was dimmed again with human -blood.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Why, do you not know the old proverb, 'like master like man?'" asked -Chartley; "so that if you abuse the king's couriers you abuse the king -himself. It seems to me constructive treason at all events. What say -you, Hungerford?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Very shocking indeed," said the gentleman whom he addressed, yawning -heartily; "but I hate all couriers too. They are very unsavoury -fellows, give you their billets with hot hands, and bring a hideous -smell of horse flesh and boot leather into the chamber with them. I -always order those who come to me to be kept an hour in a chill -ante-room, to cool and air themselves."</p> - -<p class="normal">From the characters of all who surrounded him, Lord Chartley seemed to -draw no little amusement; but still, it would appear, his eye was -watchful, and his ear too; for, when they had ridden about a couple -of miles through the wood, and were in a shady place, where the beams -of the moon did not penetrate, he suddenly reined in his horse, -exclaiming--</p> - -<p class="normal">"Some one has left the company--Hark! Who is that riding away?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Faith, I know not," said Sir Charles Weinants.</p> - -<p class="normal">"I hear nobody," replied Hungerford.</p> - -<p class="normal">"There go a horse's feet, nevertheless," cried Sir William Arden.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Gentlemen all, have you sent any one back?" demanded the young baron, -in a stern tone.</p> - -<p class="normal">A general negative was the reply; and Chartley exclaimed--</p> - -<p class="normal">"Then, by the Lord, I will find him. Ride on, gentlemen, ride on. I -will overtake you soon."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Let me come with you, my good lord," said Sir William Arden.</p> - -<p class="normal">"No, no, I will find him, and deal with him alone," replied the young -lord; and, turning his head to add--"You can wait for me at Hinckley -if you will," he spurred on sharply, on the road which led back -towards the abbey. The party whom he left remained gathered together -for a moment, in surprise at the rapidity and the strangeness of his -movements.</p> - -<p class="normal">"In the name of fortune," cried Sir Edward Hungerford, "why does he -not take somebody with him?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Every one knows his own business best," said Arden gruffly.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Hush! hush!" said Sir Charles Weinants. "Let us hear which way he -takes."</p> - -<p class="normal">Now at the distance of perhaps two hundred yards behind them, the road -through the wood divided into two; that on the left, by which they had -come, leading direct to the abbey and its little hamlet; that on the -right pursuing a somewhat circuitous course towards the small town of -Atherston. The footfalls of Lord Chartley's horse, as he urged him -furiously on, could be clearly heard as soon as Sir Charles Weinants -had done speaking; and a moment after they seemed to take a direction -to the right. The party still paused and listened, however, till it -became clear by the sounds that the young nobleman had gone upon the -road to Atherston.</p> - -<p class="normal">Then Sir Charles Weinants drew a deep breath, and said, in an easy -tone: "Well, let us ride on. We can wait for him at Hinckley. -Doubtless, he is safe enough."</p> - -<p class="normal">Sir William Arden seemed to hesitate; and Lord Chartley's steward said -in a doubtful tone: "I think we ought to wait for my lord."</p> - -<p class="normal">"You heard what he said himself," replied Sir Charles Weinants. "Our -business is to go slowly on, and wait for him at Hinckley, if he does -not overtake us by the way."</p> - -<p class="normal">So was it in the end determined, and the party proceeded at a foot -pace in the direction which they had before been taking. Mile after -mile they rode on without being overtaken by their companion, every -now and then pausing for a minute or two, to listen for his horse's -feet, and then resuming their progress, till at length they arrived at -Hinckley. They entered the inn yard, just at the moment that the -carriers from Ashby de la Zouche to Northampton usually presented -themselves with their packhorses; and they instantly had out landlord -and ostlers, and all the retinue of the inn, with lanterns in -abundance.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Stay!" said Sir William Arden, as the attendants were hurrying to -dismount, and lead their lords' horses to the stables. "Please Heaven, -we will see who it is that is wanting."</p> - -<p class="normal">"No need of that," exclaimed Sir Charles Weinants. "We shall learn -soon enough, no doubt."</p> - -<p class="normal">But the good knight, who was a steady campaigner, and one of the best -soldiers of his day, adhered tenaciously to his purpose, ordered the -gates of the inn-yard to be closed, and the doors of the house and of -the stables to be shut and locked. He next insisted that the servants -should draw up in separate bodies, the attendants of each master in a -distinct line, and then made the ostlers carry their lanterns along -the face of each.</p> - -<p class="normal">"One of your men is wanting, Sir Charles Weinants," he said at length. -"It must have been he who rode away, and left his company in the -forest."</p> - -<p class="normal">"More fool, or more knave he," replied Sir Charles Weinants, coolly. -"He shall be punished for his pains by losing his wages. But, if I am -not mistaken, there is another wanting too. Where is Lord Chartley's -Moor? I have not seen him for some time, and do not perceive him now."</p> - -<p class="normal">"He staid behind in the wood, Sir Charles," replied one of the -servants, "to look after the noble lord. He said--let go who would, he -would stay there."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Perhaps my man staid for the same purpose?" said Sir Charles -Weinants.</p> - -<p class="normal">"No, sir," answered another of the servants, attached to Sir William -Arden. "He left us some minutes before Lord Chartley, while we were -still riding on through the forest."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Well, gentlemen, I shall remain here till my friend comes," said -Arden, in a marked tone; "for I do not altogether like this affair."</p> - -<p class="normal">"And I shall stay, because I have had riding enough for one day; and -the inn looks comfortable," said Sir Edward Hungerford.</p> - -<p class="normal">"I shall ride on, as soon as my horses have been fed and watered," -rejoined Sir Charles Weinants, in a cold resolute tone; "because I -have business of importance which calls me to Leicester."</p> - -<p class="normal">His determination did not seem very pleasant to Sir William Arden, who -looked at him steadily for a moment, from under his bent brows, and -then walked once or twice up and down the court, without ordering the -doors of the stables to be opened.</p> - -<p class="normal">Weinants, however, took that task upon himself. His horses received -their food and devoured it eagerly; and then, just as the carriers -were arriving, Sir Charles Weinants rode out of the court yard, -bidding his companions adieu in the most perfectly civil and courteous -terms.</p> - -<p class="normal">Sir William Arden suffered him to depart, but most unwillingly it must -be confessed, and, when he was gone, turned to Sir Edward Hungerford, -saying: "I should like to skin him alive, the cold-blooded double -dealer. It is very strange, what can have become of Lord Chartley."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Strange!" said Sir Edward Hungerford, in a tone of affected surprise; -"why, he has gone to say a few more words to that pretty girl at the -abbey, to be sure. I should not wonder to see him arrive in half an -hour, with the dear little thing on a pillion behind him."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Pshaw!" said Arden. "You are a fool;" and he turned into the inn.</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h3>CHAPTER VII.</h3> -<br> - -<p class="normal">It was a dark night; and the appearance of the cottage or hut was, in -the inside at least, gloomy enough. The large wooden boards, which -shut out wind and storm, covered the apertures that served for -windows; and neither lamp nor taper, nor even a common resin candle, -gave light within. Yet it was only a sort of half darkness that -reigned in the first chamber, as one entered from the forest; for a -large fire was burning on the hearth, and a log weighing some -hundredweight had just been put on. The dry unlopped shoots, and -withered leaves which still hung around the trunk of the decayed tree, -had caught fire first, and the flame they produced went flashing round -the walls with a sort of fitful glare, displaying all that they -contained.</p> - -<p class="normal">The room was a large one, larger indeed than many, in buildings with -far greater pretensions; for the chief woodman had upon particular -occasions to assemble a great number of his foresters under that roof. -Whole deer were often brought in to be broken and flayed, as the terms -were, and prepared for cooking, before they were sent down to the more -delicate hands of the abbey. Besides, the woodman's house was usually -in those days a place of general hospitality; and, indeed, the good -ladies of the abbey always passed right willingly the charges which he -sometimes had to make for the entertainment of strangers and wayfarers -on their lands.</p> - -<p class="normal">As compared with a poor man's cottage of the present day, that of the -woodman was a large but very wretched abode; but as compared with the -huts of the ordinary peasantry of the time, it was a splendid mansion. -The walls were formed of large beams of wood, crossing and supporting -each other in various strange directions, forming a sort of pattern or -figure inside and out, not unpleasant to look upon. The interstices -were filled up with mud, mingled with small gravel stones and thick -loam; and the floor was of mud, well battened down and hardened, -though, in spite of all care, it presented various inequalities to the -foot. Ceiling, as may well be supposed, the chamber had none. Large, -heavy, roughly hewn rafters appeared above, with the inside of the -thatch visible between the beams. A partition wall, with a rude door -in it, crossed the building at about one third of its length, but this -wall was raised no higher than those which formed the enclosure, that -is to say, about seven or at most eight feet; and thus, though the -lower part of the building was divided into several chambers, a clear -passage for air, or sound, or rats, or mice, existed immediately under -the roof, from one end of the building to the other. The most solid or -massive piece of architecture in the whole structure was the chimney, -with its enormously wide hearth and projecting wings. These were all -built of hewn stone, the same as that of which the abbey was composed; -and before the cottage was raised around it--for the chimney was built -first--the mass must have looked like an obelisk in the midst of the -forest.</p> - -<p class="normal">Although we have greatly abandoned that sort of building at present, -and doubtless our houses are more warm and air-tight than those of -that day; yet the plan of these large wooden frame-works, with the -beams shown on the inside and the out, was not without its -convenience. Thus nails and hooks, and shelves and cupboards, were -easily fixed in, or against the walls, without any danger of knocking -down the plaster, or injuring the painting. Indeed, I do not know what -the woodman would have done without this convenience, for the whole -walls, on three sides at least, were studded with hooks and pegs, from -which were suspended all sorts of implements belonging to his craft, -and a variety of other goods and chattels. There were axes, knives, -saws, bills, wedges, mallets, hammers, picks; long bows, cross bows, -sheaves of arrows, bags of quarrels, boar-spears, nets, and two or -three pronged forks, some serrated at the edges like Neptune's -trident, and evidently intended to bring up unwilling eels out of -their native mud. Then again there were various garments, such as a -woodman might be supposed to use, leathern coats, large boots, a cloth -jerkin, apparently for days of ceremony, gloves made of the thickest -parts of a buck's hide, and a cap almost shaped like a morion, of -double-jacked leather, which would have required a sharp sword and -strong arm to cut it through. But, besides this defensive piece of -clothing, which was probably intended rather for the forest than the -field, was the ordinary steel cap, back and breastplate of a feudal -archer of the period; for each woodman was bound to serve the abbey in -arms for a certain period, in case of need.</p> - -<p class="normal">Hanging from the beams above, was a very comfortable store of winter -provision, several fat sides of bacon, half a side of a fallow deer -salted and dried, and several strings of large sausages smoked in the -most approved manner. Bunches of dried herbs too were there, and a -salt fish or two, to eke out the lentil soup and eggs upon a fast day.</p> - -<p class="normal">Within the wings of the large chimney, on a coarse wooden settle, and -with his foot resting upon the end of one of the iron dogs or -andirons, sat the woodman himself. His arms were crossed upon his -chest. His back rested against the wall of the chimney; and his eyes -were fixed upon the blazing fire, as if one of those musing fits had -seized him, in which eye and fancy are at work, seeing castles, and -towers, and landscapes, and faces in the mouldering embers, while the -mind, abstracted from the outward scene, is busy in the quiet secrecy -of the heart with things of more deep and personal interest. By his -side sat a large wolf dog, of a kind not often seen in England, in -form like a gigantic greyhound, covered with shaggy slate-coloured -hair, thickly grizzled with grey, especially about the head and paws.</p> - -<p class="normal">His long gaunt jaws rested on the woodman's knee; and sometimes he -turned his contemplative eyes upon the fire, seeming to watch it, and -muse upon its nature; and sometimes he raised them with a sleepy but -affectionate look to his master's face, as if he would fain have -spoken to him and asked him, "What shall we do next?"</p> - -<p class="normal">Not a look did the poor hound get for some time, however, for his -master had other things to think of; but at last the good man laid his -hand upon the shaggy head, and said "Honest and true, and the only -one!"</p> - -<p class="normal">He then resumed his musing again, till at length the dog rose up, and, -with slow and stately steps, advanced to the door, and putting down -his nose, seemed to snuff the air from without. The woodman lifted up -his head and listened; but the only sounds which were audible were -those produced by the footfalls of a horse at a distance; and, turning -round to the fire again with a well-pleased look, the woodman -murmured, "Good. He is coming this way."</p> - -<p class="normal">He did not budge from his settle, however, nor seem to pay much -attention, till the rapid footfalls of the horse seemed to cease -altogether, or turn, in a different direction. Then he looked up and -said, "That is strange. He cannot have missed his way after having -twice found it before."</p> - -<p class="normal">He listened attentively; but still there was no sound audible to his -ear; and it was the dog who first discovered that a stranger was -approaching. A low growl and then a fierce sharp bark were the -intimations which he gave, as soon as his ear caught the sound of a -step, and his master immediately called him to him, saying, "Hither, -Ban, hither. Down to foot--down, sir;" and the obedient hound -immediately stretched himself out at length beside the fire.</p> - -<p class="normal">The woodman, in the mean time, gave an attentive ear, and at length -distinguished the steps of a man approaching, mixed occasionally with -the slow fall of horses' hoofs upon turfy ground, where the iron shoe -from time to time struck against a pebble, but otherwise made no -noise. Nevertheless he sat still till the noise, after becoming louder -and louder, stopped suddenly, as if the traveller had paused upon a -small green which stretched out before the door, comparatively open -and free from trees for the space of about three quarters of an acre, -although here and there a solitary beech rose out of the turf, -overshadowing the greater part of the space. No brushwood was there, -however, and the small forest road traversed the green on its way -towards the distant town, spreading out into a wide sort of sandy -track, nearly opposite to the woodman's house.</p> - -<p class="normal">As soon as the sound of footsteps ceased, the first inhabitant of the -cottage strode across, and threw open the door, demanding, "Who goes -there?"</p> - -<p class="normal">The answer was as usual--"a friend;" but, before he gave him admission -or credence, the woodman was inclined to demand further explanations, -saying, "Every man in this day professes himself a friend, and is -often an enemy. Say, what friend, and whence?"</p> - -<p class="normal">The visitor, however, without reply, proceeded to fasten his horse to -a large iron hook, which projected from one of the beams of the -cottage, and then advanced straight towards the woodman, who still -stood in his doorway. The man eyed him as he came near, and then, -seeming better satisfied, retired a step or two to give him entrance. -The traveller came forward with a bold free step, and without ceremony -walked into the cottage, and took a seat by the fire.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Now let us talk a little, my friend," he said, turning to the -woodman; "but first shut the door."</p> - -<p class="normal">The other did as he was bid, and then, turning round, gazed at the -stranger from head to foot with a slight smile. After his -contemplation was finished, he pulled his own settle to a little -distance and seated himself, saying, "Well?" while the large hound, -after snuffing quietly at the stranger's boots, laid his head upon his -knee and looked up in his face.</p> - -<p class="normal">"You are a hospitable man, I doubt not," said the visitor, "and will -give me shelter for an hour or two, I trust. I have ridden hard, as -you may see."</p> - -<p class="normal">"But not far or long since supper time," rejoined the woodman: "but -what want you with me, my lord?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"You seem to know me," said Lord Chartley, "and indeed are a very -knowing person, if I may believe all.--Are you alone here?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Yes, we are man to man," answered the woodman with a laugh.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Is there no one at the back of that door?" demanded Lord Chartley.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Nothing more substantial than the wind," replied the other. "Of that -there is sometimes too much."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Pray how do you know me?" demanded Lord Chartley.</p> - -<p class="normal">"I never said I know you," answered the woodman. "Are not your silks -and satins, your gilt spurs, the jewel in your bonnet, to say nothing -of the golden St. Barnabas, and your twisted sword hilt, enough to -mark you out as a lord? But Lord, Lord, what do I care for a lord? -However, I do know you, and I will tell you how far it is marvellous. -I was in Tamworth yesterday, and saw a man wonderfully gaily dressed, -upon a horse which must have cost full three hundred angels, with some -forty or fifty followers, all gaily dressed too; so I asked one of the -cunning men of the place, who the gay man on the fine horse was, and -he answered, it was the young Lord Chartley. Was not that surprising?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Not very," replied Lord Chartley laughing; "but what came after was -more marvellous; how this cunning man should have known that the young -Lord Chartley would sup at the abbey of Atherston St. Clare tonight."</p> - -<p class="normal">"It was," answered the woodman, in the same sort of ironical tone, -"especially as the Lord Chartley mentioned his purpose gaily to Sir -Edward Hungerford, and Sir Edward Hungerford told it to Sir Charles -Weinants, and Sir Charles Weinants to his servant Dick Hagger, who, as -in duty bound, told it to Boyd the woodman, and asked if there were -really any pretty girls to be seen at the abbey, or whether it was a -mere gibe of the good lord's."</p> - -<p class="normal">"The good lord was a great fool for his pains," said Lord Chartley, -thoughtfully; "and yet not so much so either, for it was needful to -give a prying ass some reason for going."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Take care, my good lord," replied the woodman, nodding his head -sententiously, "Take care that you don't find the prying ass a vicious -ass too. Those donkies kick very hard sometimes, and there is no -knowing when they will begin."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Oh, this is a soft fool," replied the nobleman. "I fear him not. -There are others I fear more."</p> - -<p class="normal">"And none too much," replied the woodman, "though this man you fear -too little."</p> - -<p class="normal">Lord Chartley sat and mused for several moments without reply. Then, -raising his head suddenly, he looked full in the woodman's face, -saying, "Come, come, my friend, we must speak more clearly. If what -the abbess told me be true, you should know that we are upon no -jesting matters."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Good faith, I jest not, my lord," said the woodman. "I speak in as -sober seriousness as ever I can use in this merry world, where -everything is so light that nothing deserves a heavy thought. Why, -here the time was, and I remember it well, when taking a man's life -without battle or trial was held to be murder by grave old gentlemen -with white beards. Now heads fall down like chesnuts about the yellow -autumn time of the year, and no one heeds it any more than if they -were pumpkins. Then again I recollect the time when a man confided in -his wife and she did not betray him, and might lend his purse to his -friend without having his throat cut as payment of the debt. Learned -clerks, in those days, sang songs and not lewd ballads; and even a -courtier would tell truth--sometimes. It is long ago indeed; but now, -when life, and faith, and truth cannot be counted upon for lasting -more than five minutes beyond the little present moment in which we -stand, how can any man be very serious upon any subject? There is -nothing left in the world that is worth two thoughts."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Methinks there is," answered Lord Chartley; "but you touch upon the -things which brought me here. If faith and truth be as short-lived as -you would have it, master woodman, how would you, that either the -abbess or I, or a person to whom I will at present give no name, -should trust you in a matter where his life, ay, and more than his -life, is perilled?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Faith, only as a dire necessity," answered the woodman, in an -indifferent tone, "and because there is none other whom you can trust. -The abbess will trust me, perhaps, because she knows me; you, because -it is too late to think of any other means; and your nameless person, -because he cannot help it."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I know not that it is too late," replied Lord Chartley. "You have not -got the tally board so completely in your hand, my friend, as to run -up the score without looking at the other side. But, in a word, I have -made a good excuse to leave my friends and servants, in order to see -whether I could obtain some warrant for trusting you, in a matter of -such deep importance as that which may perhaps be soon cast upon you."</p> - -<p class="normal">"The best of all warrants for a man's good faith, my lord," answered -the woodman, "is the certainty that he can gain nothing by breaking -it. Now to speak plainly, I knew yesterday that good old Father -Morton, bishop of Ely, was housed at Tamworth under the gown of a -friar. To-night I know that he is lodged in the abbey. Had it so -pleased me either yesterday or to-day, I could have brought over as -many of King Richard's bands from Coleshill as would have soon -conveyed his right reverence to the tower, and if reward is to be got, -could have got it. Therefore, it is not a bit more likely that I -should betray him, were he now standing under this roof, than -yesterday in Tamworth, or to-day at Atherston St. Clare."</p> - -<p class="normal">"There is some truth in what you say," answered Lord Chartley; "and I -believe the best plan is to let a good dog beat the ground his own -way. Yet I would fain know how you were informed that such a person -was with me."</p> - -<p class="normal">"What has that to do with the matter?" answered the woodman. "Take it -all for granted. You see I am informed. What matters how?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Because it is somewhat suspicious," answered Lord Chartley at once, -"that you should gain intelligence having no reference to your calling -or station, while others both shrewd and watchful have gained none."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I have no intelligence," replied the woodman. "Everything is simple -enough when we look at it close. I saw the bishop dismount, knew him, -and understood the whole business in a minute. He was kind to some -whom I loved in years long past; and I do not forget faces--that is -all. But now, my good lord, you have somewhat squeezed me with -examinations. Let me ask you a question or two, of quite as much -moment. On what excuse did you leave your friends and servants?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Good faith, you know so much," replied Lord Chartley, "that methinks -you might know that also. However, as I must trust you in more weighty -matters, I may as well tell that too. I have some doubts of one of our -party, who joined us just on the other side of Tamworth, and has -adhered closely to us ever since."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Like a wet boot to a swelled ancle, I will answer for it," said the -woodman, "if you mean the knave Weinants."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I mean no other," answered Lord Chartley; "but however to my tale;" -and he proceeded to relate all that had occurred that night in the -wood. "I did not follow the man, I pretended to follow," he continued, -"because I knew that was in vain. He had got too far away from me; -and, moreover, had I caught him, what could I have done? I have no -power over Sir Charles Weinant's servants, and he had but to name his -lord, and plead his orders, and my authority was at an end; but as the -good lady abbess was very confident she could, by your help, insure -our friend's safety, even should the abbey be searched, I came hither -to make myself more sure, by talking with you myself."</p> - -<p class="normal">While the young nobleman had been speaking, the woodman had risen up, -with a somewhat eager and anxious eye, but continued gazing upon him, -without interrupting him, till he had done.</p> - -<p class="normal">"This must be looked to," he said, at length; "there is no time to be -lost. Are you sure these excellent friends of yours have gone on?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"So I besought them," answered the other.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Besought them!" said the woodman. "We must have better security than -beseechings;" and, taking a horn that was hanging against the wall, he -went to the door and blew two notes, twice repeated.</p> - -<p class="normal">"We shall soon have some tidings," he said, returning into the hut. "I -have got my deer-keepers watching in different places; for our rogues -here are fond of venison, as well as their neighbours, and care not -much whether it be in or out of season."</p> - -<p class="normal">"So then you are head keeper, as well as head woodman?" said Lord -Chartley.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Ay, my lord," answered the other. "We have no fine degrees and -distinctions here. We mix all trades together, woodman, verderers, -keepers, rangers. 'Tis not like a royal forest, nor an earl's park, -where no man ventures out of his own walk. This Sir Charles Weinants," -he continued, in a musing tone; "so he joined you on the other side of -Tamworth. 'Tis strange he did not betray you earlier."</p> - -<p class="normal">"He seemed not to know there was anything to betray," replied the -young lord; "looked innocent and unconscious, and talked of points and -doublets, and the qualities of Spanish leather, women, and perfumes, -with Sir Edward Hungerford; or of horses, and suits of armour, cannon, -and such like things, with Arden; or with me of sheep, poetry, and -policy, the fit furnishing of an old hall, or a great feast for -Christmas Day."</p> - -<p class="normal">"He knew his men belike," said the woodman, with a cynical smile.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Perhaps he did," replied the young lord, somewhat sternly, "and might -be sure that, if he betrayed my friend in my company, I would cut his -throat without waiting for royal permission, though he had all the -kings in Christendom for his patrons."</p> - -<p class="normal">"That might have a share in his discretion, it is true," answered the -woodman; "but we must not have him hear our counsels now, and must -make sure that he and his, as well as your own people, have ridden -on."</p> - -<p class="normal">"How can we learn that?" demanded Chartley.</p> - -<p class="normal">"We shall hear anon," answered the woodman; and in a minute or two -after the door opened, and a man in a forester's garb put in a round -head covered with curly hair, demanding--</p> - -<p class="normal">"What would you, master Boyd?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"How goes all above?" demanded the woodman.</p> - -<p class="normal">"All well," answered the forester.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Upon the road," said Boyd; "upon the Hinckley road?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"The company from the abbey just passed, all but three," replied the -man. "One rode away first, and took the Coleshill road, so Tim Harris -says. The other followed five minutes after, and came hither."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Who was the third?" asked Lord Chartley eagerly.</p> - -<p class="normal">The man did not answer for a moment, but looked to the woodman, who -nodded his head, and then the other replied--</p> - -<p class="normal">"'Twas the tawny Moor. He is up the road there, within sight of the -door."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Let him rest, let him rest," said the woodman. "Can you trust him, my -good lord?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Better than I could trust a king, a minister, or a lover," replied -Chartley. "If ever there was true faith, out of a big dog, it lies -under that brown skin."</p> - -<p class="normal">"To Coleshill?" said the woodman, musing and turning round the horn in -his hand, as if he were examining it curiously. "Ten miles by the -nearest way. We shall hear more soon, but not for three hours, I wot. -Go along Dick, and get two or three more upon the Coleshill road, -about half a mile or so from the abbey. Set one up in a tree; and if -he sees a band of men coming down, let him sound three notes upon his -horn, over and over, till he is answered. You, yourself, as soon as -you hear the sound, run down to the abbey, and make St. Clare's baby -call out aloud. Tell the portress to let the lady abbess know there -are enemies coming near, and that she had better take counsel -immediately. Then draw altogether here, as many men as you can get, -for we may have work to do. Away with you! And now, my good lord," he -continued, as the man shut the door, "I must have my supper, and if -you like to share it, you shall have woodman's fare."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I have supped already," replied Lord Chartley; "and methinks you eat -late for a forester. They are always ready enough for their meals."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I am ready enough for mine," replied the woodman, "seeing that no -morsel has passed my lips this day. I never touch food, of any kind, -till midnight is near at hand. I am like a hunting dog, which, to do -its work well, should have but one meal a-day."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Your habits are somewhat strange, for a man of your condition," said -Lord Chartley, "and your language also."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Oh," said the woodman, "as for my language, I have seen courts, and -am courtly. Why, I was for several years a lackey to a great man; but -my preferment was spoiled by the jealousy of other lackeys, so, to -save myself from worse, I ran away and betook myself to the woods and -wilds; but I can be as delicate and mincing as a serving maid should -need be, and as full of courtesies as a queen's ape. I am like every -widow of sixty, and like every parson in rusty black without a parish; -I have had my sorrows and seen my best days, which makes me at times -melancholic; but I haven't forgot my gentility, when it suits my turn, -nor the choice words which one perfunctorily gathers up in courts."</p> - -<p class="normal">All this was said in a bitter and sneering manner, as if he made a -mockery of the very acquirements he boasted of; and Lord Chartley -replied: "By my faith, I believe your last trade is honester than your -first, my good friend. However, get your supper, and tell me in the -mean while, in plain English, what you think all this will come to."</p> - -<p class="normal">The woodman took down a large bowl from a shelf on the one side of the -room, and poured a part of the milk that it contained into an iron -pot. This he suspended over the fire, by a hook which hung dangling -over the blaze, and when the milk began to boil, scattered a handful -of oatmeal in it, stirring it round at the same time, till it was of a -tolerable thick consistency. Upon this mess, when he had removed it -from the fire and placed it on the table, he poured the rest of the -milk cold. But it must not be supposed that all this time he had -refrained from speaking. On the contrary, in brief and broken -sentences, he replied to the young nobleman's question, saying, "What -will become of it? Why, simply Richard's bands will be down about the -abbey in an hour or two, and will search every corner of it--or set it -on fire, perchance, or any thing else that they please to do."</p> - -<p class="normal">"They will hardly dare, I think," said Lord Chartley. "This abbey, I -am told, has the privilege of sanctuary, and if King Richard has a -quality on earth, on which he can justly pride himself, it is his -strictness in repressing the lawless violence which has risen up in -times of long and fierce contention."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Ay, lawless violence in other men," said the woodman; "but crimes -committed in our own cause become gentle failings in the eyes of -tyrants. The man who punishes a robber or assassin, rewards a murder -committed on the king's behalf. Was princely Buckingham the other day -judged by the laws or sentenced by his peers? No, no. The king's word -was warrant enough for his death, and would be for the sacking of the -abbey. There is but one respect which could save it. This king would -fain be thought religious; and he has respected sanctuary before -now--where it served the purposes of a prison as well as a refuge; but -he is cunning as well as resolute; and he will find means to hide his -share in the deed he profits by. Look you here now, my good lord; -suppose some band of mere plunderers attacks the abbey, as was done -not very long ago; then an obnoxious bishop may fall into the king's -hands, without his avowing the deed."</p> - -<p class="normal">"But his officers would be recognised," replied Lord Chartley.</p> - -<p class="normal">"True, if the deed were committed by regular troops under noble -leaders," said the woodman; "but these bands at Coleshill are mere -mercenaries, gathered together in haste when the report first ran that -the earl of Richmond was coming over hither. Since then, the king -knows not what to do with them; and there they lie, living at free -quarters upon the people. These are men, easily disavowed. But it will -be as I have said; of that be you assured. If the bishop is now within -the abbey, it will go hard but they will seek him there. Then, if the -abbess is wise and follows counsel, she will send him forth to me, and -I will provide for his safety."</p> - -<p class="normal">"But where? But how?" demanded Lord Chartley. "This forest is not of -such extent that you could shelter him from any keen pursuit."</p> - -<p class="normal">The woodman looked at him with a smile, and then replied: "We do not -trust all its secrets to every one. They are more intricate than you -imagine. There are a thousand places where he might be hid, not to -mention the old castle on the hill. It was a stronghold of the family -of the Morleys, taken and sacked in the civil wars, under the fourth -Harry, and the lands given over to the abbey. There is many a chamber -and many a hall there, which would puzzle the keenest-scented talbot -of all the king's pack, to nose out a fugitive therein. You might -almost as well hunt a rat through the cript of an old church as seek -for any one hiding there. That is one place; but there are a dozen -others; and whither I will take him must be decided at the time. -However, rest you sure that, once out of the abbey walls, and in my -charge, he is safe."</p> - -<p class="normal">"We must trust so," replied the young nobleman; "and your goodwill and -intentions, I doubt not; but fate is out of any man's keeping, my good -friend, and indeed we are all in hers. However, we must do as we can, -and leave the rest to God's good will, who shapes all things as seems -fit unto him, and often overrules our wishes and designs for excellent -purposes that we cannot foresee. While you take your supper--a -somewhat poor one for a strong man--I will go out and tell my good -Arab, Ibn Ayoub, that I am safe and well. Otherwise, having marked me -hither, he will stay watching near, till I or the sun come forth."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Well bethought," answered the woodman. "'Tis strange how faithful -these heathens sometimes are. Bring him in hither, and let him stable -his horse and yours in the shed behind the cottage. He will find the -way there, round to the left."</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h3>CHAPTER VIII.</h3> -<br> - -<p class="normal">Let us now return within the abbey walls for a while, and see what was -passing there. The departure of the guests had left behind, at least -with some of the fair inmates, that sensation of vacant dulness, which -usually succeeds a period of unusual gaiety, especially with those -whose ordinary course of life is tranquil if not tedious.</p> - -<p class="normal">Iola felt that the convent would seem much more cheerless than before; -and, as she stood with her cousin Constance in the little private -parlour of her aunt, conversing for a few minutes, before they retired -to rest, upon the events of the day, her light heart could not help -pouring forth its sensations, innocent and natural as they were, to -her somewhat graver and more thoughtful cousin.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Good lack, dear Constance," she said, "I wish they would not show us -such bright scenes and give us such gay moments, if they are both to -be snatched away again the next minute. How heavy will the next week -be, till we have forgotten all these gay feathers, and silks, and -satins, and gold embroidery, and gentle speeches, and pleasant wit."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Nay, I hope, Iola, that you did not have too many gentle speeches," -replied her cousin, with a quiet smile; "for I saw somebody's head -bent low, and caught the sound of words whispered rather than spoken, -and perceived a little pink ear turned up to catch them all."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Oh, my man was the most charming ever seen," answered Iola; "just -fitted for my companion in a long ride through the forest, as -thoughtless, as careless, as merry as myself; who will forget me as -soon as I shall forget him, and no harm done to either. What was your -man like, Constance? He seemed as gruff as a large church bell, and as -stern as the statue of Moses breaking the tables."</p> - -<p class="normal">"He was well enough for a man," answered Constance. "He might have -been younger, and he might have been gentler in words; for his hair -was grizzled grey, and he abused everybody roundly, from the king on -his throne to the horseboy who saddled his beast. He was a gentleman -notwithstanding, and courteous to me; and I have a strong fancy, dear -Iola, that his heart is not as hard as his words, for I have read in -some old book that hard sayings often go with soft doings."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Ha, ha, say you so, Constance dear?" replied Iola; "then methinks you -have been prying a little closely into the bosom of this Sir William -Arden. Well, you are free, and can love where you list. I am like a -poor popinjay tied to a stake, where every boy archer may bend his bow -at me, and I do nothing but sit still and endure. I often wonder what -this Lord Fulmer is like, my husband that is to be, God wot. I hope he -is not a sour man with a black beard, and that he does not squint, and -has not a high shoulder like the king, and has both his eyes of one -colour; for I hate a wall-eyed horse, and it would be worse in a -husband--unless one of them was blind, which would indeed be a -comfort, as one could be sure of getting on the blind side of him."</p> - -<p class="normal">"How your little tongue runs," said her cousin. "It is like a lapdog -fresh let out into the fields, galloping hither and thither for pure -idleness."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Well, I will be merry whatever happens," answered Iola gaily. "'Tis -the best way of meeting fate, Constance. You may be as grave and -demure as a cat before the fire, or as sad and solemn as the ivy on an -old tower. I will be as light as the lark upon the wing, and as -cheerful as a bough of Christmas holly, garlanding a boar's head on a -high festival; and she sang with a clear sweet voice, every note of -which was full of gladness, some scraps of an old ballad very common -in those days.</p> -<div class="poem2"> - -<p class="t1">"Nay, ivy, nay,</p> -<p class="t2">It shall not be, I wis;</p> -<p class="t1">Let holly have the mastery,</p> -<p class="t2">As the custom is.</p> - -<p class="t1">"Holly stands in the hall</p> -<p class="t2">Fair to behold;</p> -<p class="t1">Ivy stands without the door</p> -<p class="t2">Shivering with cold.</p> -<p class="t0" style="text-indent:15%">Nay, ivy, nay, &c.</p> - -<p class="t1">"Holly and his merry men</p> -<p class="t2">They dance and play;</p> -<p class="t1">Ivy and her maidens</p> -<p class="t2">Weep a well-a-day.</p> -<p class="t0" style="text-indent:15%">Nay, ivy, nay, &c.</p> -<br> -<p class="t1">"Holly hath berries</p> -<p class="t2">As red as any rose;</p> -<p class="t1">The forester and hunter</p> -<p class="t2">Keep them for the does.</p> -<p class="t0" style="text-indent:15%">Nay, ivy, nay, &c.</p> -<br> -<p class="t1">"Ivy hath berries</p> -<p class="t2">As black as any sloe;</p> -<p class="t1">There comes the owl,</p> -<p class="t2">With his long whoop of woe.</p> -<p class="t0" style="text-indent:15%">Nay, ivy, nay, &c."</p> -</div> - - -<p class="normal">In the meanwhile, the abbess herself had not been without occupation, -for although the night was waning fast, the usual hour of rest long -past, and the nuns in general retired to their cells, yet before she -went to her own snug little room, the worthy lady saw, one after the -other, several of the officers of the abbey in the great parlour. In -dealing with these various personages, the worthy lady, -notwithstanding her little knowledge of the world, showed a good deal -of skill and diplomatic shrewdness. Her situation indeed was somewhat -delicate; for she had to prepare against events, which she could not -clearly explain to those with whom she spoke, and to give orders which -would naturally excite surprise, without such explanation. She had -prepared her story however beforehand; and she proceeded in a -different manner with each of the different officers, as her knowledge -of their several characters pointed out to her the most judicious -course. To the porter of the great hall, a stout old man, who had been -a soldier and had seen service, she said boldly, and at once; "Leave -the lodging in charge of your boy, Giles, and go down directly through -the hamlet, to all the tenants and socmen within a mile. Tell them -there is danger abroad, and that they must be ready, with their arms, -to come up the instant they hear the great bell ring. Bid them send -out some lads to the vassals who live farther off, with the same news. -Then come back hither, for we shall want you."</p> - -<p class="normal">The man departed without a word, his answer being merely a low -inclination of the head. The bailiff, who by right should have -presented himself before the porter, but who had been impeded by the -appropriation of sundry good things left from the supper table, -appeared amongst the last. To him the abbess put on a very different -countenance.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Well, master bailiff," she said, with a light and cheerful smile, -"have you heard anything of the bands at Coleshill?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Sad work, lady, sad work," replied the bailiff, casting his eyes up -to heaven. "Why I understand that, last night, some of them stole -Joseph Saxton's best cow, and cut it up before his face, hardly taking -the hide off."</p> - -<p class="normal">"That shows they were very hungry," said the abbess, laughing.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Ay, lady," rejoined the bailiff, "these are not jesting matters, I -can tell you. Why, I should not wonder if they drove some of the abbey -lands before long; and we have not cattle to spare that I know of. -There is no knowing what such hell-kites may do."</p> - -<p class="normal">"That's very true," answered the abbess; "and so, my son, I think it -will be better for you to sleep in the lodge for two or three nights; -for we might want you on an occasion."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Oh, there is no fear of their coming as far as this," answered the -bailiff, who had no fondness for putting his head into any dangerous -position.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Nevertheless, I desire you to remain," answered the abbess; "'tis -well to have somebody to take counsel with in time of need."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Why, there is the friar, lady mother," replied the bailiff, still -reluctant, "the friar, whom these young lords who were here left -behind in the stranger's lodging. He would give you counsel and -assistance."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Ay, ghostly counsel and spiritual assistance," replied the abbess; -"but that is not what I want just now, good friend; so you will stop -as I said, and remember that I shall expect a bolder face this time, -if anything should happen, than when the rovers were here before. Men -fancied you were afraid.--However, send the friar to me now, if he be -well enough to come. I will see what counsel I can get from him."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Well enough!" cried the bailiff. "He is well enough, I -warrant--nothing the matter with him. Why, he was walking up and down -in the great court before the chapel, with his hood thrown back, and -his bald crown glistening in the moonlight, like a coot in a water -meadow."</p> - -<p class="normal">Part of this speech was spoken aloud, part of it muttered to himself -as he was quitting the room in a very sullen mood. He did not dare to -disobey the orders he had received, for the good abbess was not one to -suffer her commands to be slighted; and yet women never, or very -rarely, gain the same respect with inferiors that men obtain; and the -bailiff ventured to grumble with her, though he would have bowed down -and obeyed in silence, had his orders come from one of the sterner -sex.</p> - -<p class="normal">However that might be, hardly three minutes elapsed before the friar -entered the parlour, and carefully closed the door behind him. His -conference with the abbess was long, continuing nearly an hour, and -the last words spoken were, "Remember rightly, reverend father, the -moment the bell sounds, betake yourself to the chapel, and stand near -the high altar. You can see your way; for there is always a lamp -burning in the chapel of St. Clare. Lock the great door after you; and -I will come to you from our own gallery."</p> - -<p class="normal">The bishop bowed his head and departed; and the abbess, weary with the -fatigue and excitement of the day, gladly sought repose. All the -convent was quiet around, and the nuns long gone to rest. Even the -lady's two nieces had some time before closed their eyes in the sweet -and happy slumber of youth.</p> - -<p class="normal">Sleep soon visited the pillow of the abbess also; for she never -remembered having sat up so late, except once, when King Edward, the -libidinous predecessor of the reigning monarch, had visited the abbey -during one of his progresses.</p> - -<p class="normal">Still and deep was her rest; she knew nothing of the passing hours; -she heard not the clock strike, though the tower on which it stood was -exactly opposite to her cell. She heard not even the baby of St. -Clare, when, a little before two o'clock, it was rung sharply and -repeatedly. A few minutes after, however, there was a knock at the -room door; but, no answer being given, a lay sister entered with a -lamp in her hand, and roused her superior somewhat suddenly.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Pardon, lady mother, pardon," she said; "but I am forced to wake you, -for here is Dick the under forester come up to tell you, from Boyd, -the head woodman, that enemies are coming, and that you had better -take counsel upon it immediately. There is no time to be lost, he -says, for they are already past the Redbridge turn, not a mile and a -half off, and, alack and a well-a-day, we are all unprepared!"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Not so little prepared as you think, sister Grace," replied the -abbess, rising at once, and hurrying on her gown. "You run to the -porter, and tell him to toll the great bell with all his might, -opening the gate to the men of the hamlet and the tenants, but keeping -fast ward against the rovers. Then away with you, as soon as you have -delivered that message, up to the belfry tower. The moon must be still -up--"</p> - -<p class="normal">"She's down, she's down," cried the nun, in great alarm.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Then light the beacon," cried the abbess. "That will give light -enough to see when they come near. As soon as you perceive men -marching in a band, like regular soldiers, ring the little bell to -give the porter notice; and, after watching what they do for a minute -or two, come and tell me. Be steady; be careful; and do not let fright -scare away your wits."</p> - -<p class="normal">The nun hurried to obey; and in a minute after, the loud and sonorous -alarm bell of the abbey was heard, shaking the air far and wide over -the forest, with its dull and sullen boom.</p> - -<p class="normal">Having delivered her message to the porter, the poor nun, with her -lamp in her hand, hurried up the numberless steps of the beacon tower, -trembling in every limb, notwithstanding the courageous tone of her -superior. Upon the thick stone roof at the top she found an immense -pile of faggots, ready laid, and mingled with pitch, and, lying at -some distance, a heap of fresh wood, to be cast on as occasion -required, with a large jar of oil and an iron ladle, to increase the -flame as it rose up.</p> - -<p class="normal">Fortunately, the night was as calm as sleep, and not a breath of wind -crossed the heavens; otherwise the lamp would assuredly have been -blown out in the poor sister's trepidation and confusion. As it was, -she had nearly let it fall into the midst of the pile, in the first -attempt to light the beacon; but the next moment the thin dry twigs, -which were placed beneath, caught the fire, crackled, nearly went out -again; and then, with a quantity of dull smoke, the fire rushed up, -licking the thicker wood above. The pitch ignited; the whole pile -caught; and a tall column of flame, some sixteen or seventeen feet -high, rose into the air, and cast a red and ominous light over the -whole country round. The buildings on the little green became -distinctly visible in a moment, the houses of the priests and -choristers, the cottages of the peasants and the labourers; and -running her eye along the valley beyond, in the direction of -Coleshill, the lay sister saw, coming through the low ground, just -under the verge of the wood, a dark mass, apparently of men on -horseback, at the distance of less than half a mile. At the same time, -however, she beheld a sight which gave her better hope. Not only from -the cottages on the green were men issuing forth and hurrying to the -great portal of the abbey, but, along the three roads which she could -espy, she beheld eighteen or twenty figures, some on foot, but some on -horseback, running or galloping at full speed. They were all separate -and detached from each other; but the flame of the beacon flashed upon -steel caps and corslets, and spear heads; and she easily judged that -the tenants and vassals, warned beforehand and alarmed by the sound of -the great bell, were hastening to do the military service they owed.</p> - -<p class="normal">When she looked again in the direction of the mass she had seen on the -Coleshill road, she perceived that the head of the troop had halted; -and she judged rightly that, surprised by the sudden lighting of the -beacon and tolling of the bell, the leaders were pausing to consult.</p> - -<p class="normal">For a moment, a hope crossed her mind that they would be frightened at -the state of preparation which they found, and desist; but the next -instant the troop began to move on again; and remembering the orders -which she had received, she rang a lesser bell which hung near the -beacon, still keeping her eyes fixed upon the party advancing up the -valley.</p> - -<p class="normal">Steadily and cautiously they came on; were lost for a minute or two -behind the houses the hamlet; then reappeared upon the little green; -and, dividing into three troops, the one remained planted before the -great gates, while the others, gliding between the cottages and the -walls of the abbey, filed off to the right and left, with the evident -purpose of surrounding the whole building, and guarding every outlet. -The poor nun, however, fancied, on the contrary, that they were gone -to seek some favourable point of attack; and murmuring to herself, -"The Blessed Virgin have mercy upon us, and all the saints protect us! -There will never be men enough to protect all the walls," she hurried -down to make her report to her superior; but the abbess was not to be -found.</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h3>CHAPTER IX.</h3> -<br> - -<p class="normal">In a small cell, of size and proportion exactly similar to those of -the nuns, though somewhat differently arranged and decorated, lay a -very beautiful girl sound asleep. A light coif of network confined, or -strove to confine, the rich glossy curling hair; but still a long -ringlet struggled away from those bonds, and fell over a neck as white -as ivory. The eyes, the bright, beautiful, speaking eyes, the soul's -interpreters, were closed, with the long sweeping black eyelashes -resting on the cheek; but still the beautiful and delicate line of the -features, in their quiet loveliness, offered as fair a picture as ever -met mortal sight. Stretched beyond the bedclothes too, was the -delicate hand and rounded arm, with the loop, which fastened the -night-dress round the wrist, undone, and the white sleeve pushed back -nearly to the elbow. One might have sworn it was the hand and arm of -some marvellous statue, had it not been for the rosy tips of the -delicate fingers, and one small blue vein through which the flood of -young and happy life was rushing.</p> - -<p class="normal">The dull and heavy tolling of the great bell woke her not, though the -sound evidently reached her ear, and had some indistinct effect upon -her mind, for the full rosy lips of her small mouth parted, showing -the pearly teeth beneath; and some murmuring sounds were heard, of -which the only word distinguishable was "matins."</p> - -<p class="normal">The next instant, however, her slumber was broken, for the abbess -stood beside her with a lamp in her hand, and shook her shoulder, -saying "Iola, Iola!"</p> - -<p class="normal">The fair girl started up and gazed in her aunt's face bewildered; and -then she heard the sullen tolling of the great bell, and various other -sounds which told her that some unusual events were taking place.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Quick, Iola," cried the abbess, "rise and dress yourself. I have a -task for you to perform in haste, my child.--There, no care for your -toilette. Leave your hair in the net. Lose not a moment; for this is a -matter of life and death."</p> - -<p class="normal">"What it is, my dear lady mother?" asked Iola, trying to gather her -senses together.</p> - -<p class="normal">"It is to convey one, whom his persecutors have followed even hither, -to a place of safety," replied the abbess. "Listen, my child, and -reply not. The friar you saw this night is a high and holy man, -unjustly persecuted by an usurping king. That he has taken refuge here -has been discovered. The abbey is menaced by a power we cannot resist. -It would be searched, the sanctuary violated, and the good man torn -from the altar, to imprisonment, or perhaps death, had I not the means -of conveying him beyond the walls--ay, and beyond the reach of danger. -You must be his guide, Iola, for I must not reveal the secret to any -of the sisters; and if Constance is to take the veil, as has been -proposed, she must not know it either."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Constance will not take the veil, dear aunt," replied Iola quietly; -"but I am quite ready to do whatever you will, and to help to the -utmost of my power. But cannot the good man find the way himself if he -be told, for I am as ignorant of it as he is?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"He could find his way through the passage," replied the abbess, -"easily enough, but not through the wood when he issues forth."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Oh, I can guide him there, as well as Boyd's great hound Ban," -answered the gay girl, "but where am I to take him, dear aunt?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"First to the cell of St. Magdalen," answered the elder lady, "and -thence by the wood walks to Boyd's cottage. If you push the door that -closes the end of the passage strongly, you will find that it opens -one of the panels at the back of the shrine. Mind you leave it ajar, -however, till you come back; for, once closed, you will not be able to -open it from that side. Then keep down the wood-road to the east, and -most likely you will meet Boyd; for he will be watching. If not, go -straight on to his house, and then return at once. I will let you into -the chapel as soon as the men are gone.--Now, child, are you ready?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"One moment, dear aunt, one moment," answered Iola. "Where is my -hood?--I cannot clasp this gorget."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Let me try," cried the abbess; but her trembling hands would not -perform the work; and at last Iola succeeded herself.</p> - -<p class="normal">"There is your hood, child," cried her aunt. "Now come--come quick. We -shall have them at the gates before you are gone."</p> - -<p class="normal">Hurrying along as fast as possible, she led her fair niece through -several of the long vaulted passages of the abbey, and thence, by her -own private entrance, into the chapel. The door leading to the nuns' -gallery was locked; but one of the keys at the abbess's girdle soon -opened it; and, advancing to the grated screen, she looked down into -the choir before she ventured to descend.</p> - -<p class="normal">All was still and quiet. The glimmering light from the shrine of St. -Clare afforded a view up and down the church, and no human form was to -be seen. Neither was any sound heard, except the swinging of the great -bell, as it continued to pour forth its loud vibrating call for -assistance over the whole country round. Through the richly ornamented -windows, however, came flitting gleams of many-coloured light, as -lanterns and torches were carried across the court, between the chapel -and the portal; and once or twice the sounds of voices were heard; but -the abbess distinguished the tongue of the porter, speaking with the -peasants as they hurried in.</p> - -<p class="normal">"I cannot see him," whispered the abbess, after looking down for a -moment or two into the body of the church. "There can be surely no -mistake."</p> - -<p class="normal">Iola took a step forward, and put her face to the grate. "He may be -behind that pillar," she said. "Yes, don't you see, dear aunt? The -light from the shrine casts the shadow of something like a man upon -the pavement?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Let us go down, let us go down," answered the abbess. "If he be not -there, nobody else is, so we need not be afraid;" and, opening the -door, leading to the lower part of the chapel, she descended the -spiral staircase which was concealed in one of the large columns that -supported both the roof of the building, and the gallery in which they -had been standing. The light foot of Iola made little sound upon the -pavement of the nave, as they proceeded towards the high altar; but -the less elastic tread of the abbess in her flat-soled sandal soon -called from behind the pillar a figure in a friar's gown and cowl.</p> - -<p class="normal">In a calm and not ungraceful attitude, the old man waited for their -coming; and when the light of the abbess's lamp shone upon his face, -it displayed no signs of fear or agitation. "I have locked the door, -sister," he said, "as you desired me; but I almost feared I had made -some mistake, when I found you did not come; for I have been here from -the moment the bell began to toll."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I had to wake my niece to guide you, reverend and dear lord," replied -the abbess; "but now let us hasten; for no time is to be lost. I am -terrified for your safety. To stay were ruin, and there is even peril -in flight."</p> - -<p class="normal">"There was as much in the flight from Brecknock," answered the bishop -calmly; "but I am ready, my sister; lead the way.--And so you are to -be my guide, my fair child?" he continued, as they followed the -abbess. "Are you not frightened?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"No, father," answered Iola quietly. "God will, I trust, protect me; -and I think there is more danger here than in the forest."</p> - -<p class="normal">By this time they had passed round the great altar, and through a door -in the screen, which separated the choir from the lady chapel behind. -Immediately facing them was a large sort of flat pilaster, covered -half way up, as was all that part of the building, with old oak -panelling, in many places ornamented with rude sculptures. By a very -simple contrivance the panelling, with which the pilaster was covered, -was made to revolve upon hinges, concealed in the angle, where it -joined the wall. The abbess found some difficulty indeed, amongst all -the heads of dragons, and monkeys, and cherubim, and devils, with -which the woodwork was richly but grotesquely ornamented, to discover -that which served as a sort of handle. When she had found it, however, -the whole of the lower part of the panelling moved back easily enough, -and a door was seen behind on the face of the pilaster. It was low and -narrow, suffering only one person to pass at once, and that with a -bowed head. It was locked also at the moment; but the abbess took the -key from her girdle, and the bishop opened the door easily with his -own hands.</p> - -<p class="normal">"And now, father, God speed you on your way," cried the abbess, "for I -must go no further. There is the beacon bell ringing, which shows that -these knaves are in sight. Here, take the lamp with you, Iola. The -passage is long and dark."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Heaven's benison be upon you, sister," said the bishop, "and may God -protect you from all evil consequences of your Christian charity -towards me. Well have you repaid the little kindness I once showed -your brother in times long past, and leave me a debt of gratitude -besides."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Nay, nay, I beseech you be quick, dear lord," said the lady; and, -passing through the doorway, the prelate and his fair guide found -themselves in a small vaulted chamber, with the end of a long dark -passage open before them. As soon as they had entered, the door was -closed, and they could hear the screen of panelling which covered it -roll back into its place. Iola led the way on through the passage -before them; and the bishop, after gazing round the vaulted room for -an instant, followed with a slower step and in silence. At the end of -some fifteen or sixteen yards, a small descending flight of stairs -presented itself; and Iola ran lightly down, holding the lamp at the -bottom, till the bishop descended. He gazed on her beautiful face and -figure with a fatherly smile, as, lifting the lamp above her head, she -stood with the light falling on her fair forehead and graceful limbs.</p> - -<p class="normal">"And so thy name is Iola, my fair daughter," said the bishop, when he -reached her side; "and thou art the niece of our good sister the -abbess. Which of her brothers is thy father?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"She has but one still living, my lord," replied Iola. "My father is -no more."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Then you must be the daughter of Richard St. Leger Lord Calverly," -said the bishop; "I knew him well."</p> - -<p class="normal">"The same, my lord," replied Iola; "and methinks I have heard that -your lordship once saved his life. If I understood my aunt's words -rightly but now, and you are the Lord Bishop of Ely, I have heard my -uncle, the present Lord Calverly, say that the bishop of Ely had saved -his brother's life, what time the red rose was broken from the stalk."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I was not the Bishop of Ely then, daughter, but merely Robert -Morton," replied the prelate; "one of King Edward's privy council, but -one who took no share in policy or party strife, and only strove to -mitigate the bloody rigour of a civil war, by touching men's hearts -with mercy, when the moment served. The time will come, perhaps, when -men will marvel that I, who faithfully once served King Henry, should -serve, when he was dead, as faithfully his great opponent; but I had -pondered well the course before me, and feel my conscience clear. I -asked myself how I might do most good to men of every faction and to -my country; and I can boldly say, my child, that I have saved more -subjects for the crown of England--good honest men too, misled by -party zeal--by interposing to stay the lifted hand of vengeance, than -were slain by any of the mighty nobles who took part with either side -in these horrible wars. I never changed my faction, daughter, for I -never had one. And now the hatred of the reigning king has pursued me, -because he knew right well that I would raise my voice against the -wrong he did his brother's children."</p> - -<p class="normal">To a mind well versed in the world's affairs, the fact of the good -bishop entering into such apologetical explanations, at such a moment, -and with such a companion, would have been sufficient to show that he -did not feel quite sure his conduct was without reproach; for we -always put our armour where we know we are weak. But Iola was too -young and simple to suspect or to doubt; and she only looked upon him -as the good and kind prelate, who, in times of intestine strife, had -interposed to save her father's life. Joyful then at the task imposed -upon her, she walked onward by his side; and the conversation, thus -begun, proceeded in a somewhat lighter tone. The bishop asked her of -her state, her future, her hopes, her wishes, and seemed to forget his -own perilous situation in speaking and thinking of her. He was indeed -a very fearless man, not with the rash, bold, enterprising courage of -some, but with that calm tranquil abiding of results which can never -exist without high hope and confidence in God. He had his faults, as -all men have; but still he had many virtues, and, in an age when few -were religious, felt the truths of Christianity, and knew religion to -consist in something more than forms.</p> - -<p class="normal">Once their conversation was interrupted by the sound of horses' feet, -beating the ground immediately above them; and Iola started and looked -up with an expression of fear.</p> - -<p class="normal">"They will not break through, my child," said the prelate, with a -smile, lifting his eyes to the solid masonry above. "That arch is -thick and strong, depend upon it; but I suppose, by those sounds, we -are already beyond the abbey walls?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"I do not know," answered Iola, "for I have never been here before; -but the lady abbess tells me, this passage will lead us out into St. -Magdalen's cell, and thence I know the way well.</p> - -<p class="normal">"How far is it?" asked the bishop.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Oh, a long way," answered the fair girl, by his side, "nearly a -mile."</p> - -<p class="normal">She thought only of its distance by the ordinary path, which, as I -have before said, took various turnings to avoid the ravine and the -rivulet; but the passage that they were now pursuing, sunk by the -steps which they had descended to a level below all such obstacles, -abridged the distance by nearly one half. It is true that the bottom -of the bed of the rivulet itself was somewhat lower than the top of -the arched vault; but nevertheless the latter had been carried -straight on and cemented, so as to be impervious to the water, while -broken rocks and stones had been piled up above, concealing the -masonry, and forming a little cascade in the stream. Thus, when they -reached that spot, the rush and murmur of the waterfall was heard, -and, turning her bright eyes to the prelate's face, Iola said:</p> - -<p class="normal">"We must be passing under the river, I think."</p> - -<p class="normal">"It is not unlikely, daughter," replied the bishop. "In other lands, -which you most likely have never seen, I have beheld vast structures -for carrying rivers from hill to hill, raised on high arches, -underneath which the busy world of men passed to and fro, while the -stream flowed overhead."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I have heard of such things," replied Iola; "and oh, how I long to -see those lands and to dream of all that mighty men have done in -former days. How strange it is that such arts have not come down to -us. Here we see nothing between the huge castle with its frowning -towers, or the lordly church with its spires and pinnacles, and the -wood cottage of the peasant, or the humble abode of the franklin."</p> - -<p class="normal">"The bishop smiled at her.</p> - -<p class="normal">"You have been but little in cities, my child," he said; "but your -observation is just. It is strange that the arts of other ages have -not descended to us; for one would suppose, if anything on earth could -be permanent, it would be that knowledge and that skill which tend to -the elevation, the protection, and the comfort of the human race, -especially when the wonders they have performed, and the monuments -they have raised, are still before our eyes, although in ruins. But -birth, life, death, and corruption are the fate of nations, as well as -of men, of systems as well as creatures, of the offsprings of the -human mind as well as of the inheritors of the corporeal frame. As in -the successions of the human race, however, we see the numbers of the -population still increasing, notwithstanding periods of devastation -and destruction; as those who are born and die give birth to more than -their own decease subtracts, so probably the loss of the arts, the -sciences, even the energies which one nation or one epocha has -produced, is succeeded by the production of arts, sciences, energies, -more numerous, if not more vigorous, in the nation or epocha which -follows. But these have again their childhood, their maturity, their -decay; and society with us, my daughter, is perhaps still in its -infancy--I believe indeed it is."</p> - -<p class="normal">Iola gazed at him surprised, and somewhat bewildered, for he had led -her mind beyond its depth; and the good prelate read the expression -aright, and replied to it--</p> - -<p class="normal">"You are surprised at such reasonings," he said, "because you are not -accustomed to them; but I believe those people above would be more -surprised, if they knew that, at the very moment they are seeking me -to destroy me, I am walking along calmly beneath their feet, talking -philosophy with a fair young creature like yourself."</p> - -<p class="normal">He spoke with a smile, and then cast down his eyes in a musing mood, -but, still that high intelligent smile remained upon his lips, as if -he found some amusement in watching the working of his own mind, -amidst the strange circumstances with which fate surrounded him.</p> - -<p class="normal">The moment after, the passage began to ascend, not exactly by steps, -though the broad flat stones with which it was paved rose a little, -one above the edge of the other, rendering the path somewhat rough and -difficult. This lasted not long, however, and the bishop, raising his -eyes, observed--</p> - -<p class="normal">"There seems a door before us. Have you got the key?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"It will open, on being pressed hard," replied Iola; "but I cannot -think we have reached the cell yet. The way has seemed so short."</p> - -<p class="normal">So it proved however; and approaching the door, she attempted to push -it open, but it resisted her efforts. The bishop however aided; the -door moved back; and, holding it open, he desired Iola to pass through -into the cell which was now before them. It was a low vaulted Gothic -chamber, opening on the side of the hill, by an arch with an iron -grate, and having on one side a shrine and little altar. The bishop -followed his fair guide into this small chapel; but Iola herself had -forgotten her aunt's injunction regarding the door. The bishop let it -slip from his hand, as he passed through; and it closed at once, -leaving no trace of its existence in the old woodwork of the walls. -Had Iola recollected the difficulty she might have in returning, she -would certainly have been alarmed; and the sudden close of the door -would probably have brought her aunt's warning to her remembrance, had -not a sight been presented to her, immediately on entering the chapel, -which at once occupied all her attention. Through the low archway -which I mentioned appeared the walls and towers of the abbey, lighted -up by the flame of the beacon, and by a blaze, red and smoky as if -proceeding from torches both in the great court-yard between the chapel -and the portal, and on the little green before the great gates. The -green itself, was partly hidden by the priest's house and the -cottages; but under the walls, to the north and west of the building, -were seen several groups of men on horseback; and the sounds of loud -voices speaking, and of men calling to one another, were borne to the -ear distinctly, for the great bell by this time had ceased to toll, -and there was no other sound to interrupt the murmur of the voices -from the abbey.</p> - -<p class="normal">By a natural impulse, Iola clasped her fair hands together, and -uttered a low exclamation of fear; but the bishop gazed calmly forth -for a moment, and then said--</p> - -<p class="normal">"We had better hasten on our way, my child. Extinguish the lamp--Here, -set it down here. We must not show ourselves more than we we can help, -lest any eye should be turned this way."</p> - -<p class="normal">"We must pass through the grate," said Iola, recalled to herself by -the prelate's words; "for there is no other way out; but if we run -quickly round to the back of the building, no one will see us."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Let us go one at a time," said the bishop. "It is well to take every -precaution, though I do not think the light is sufficiently strong to -show us to those on the opposite side of the valley."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Turn sharp to the right," said Iola, opening the iron grate, for the -prelate to pass through; and, as soon as he was gone, she followed and -rejoined him at the back of the building. "Now this way, this way," -she continued hastily, anxious to lead him away from dangers, the -imminence of which seemed now for the first time to strike her; and -guiding him along one of the forest paths, she hurried on with a quick -step, saying with one of her gay short laughs:</p> - -<p class="normal">"They would not easily find us here. I could lead them through such a -labyrinth that they would not know which way to turn to get out."</p> - -<p class="normal">"You seem to know the forest well, daughter," said the bishop, in a -good-humoured tone. "I fear me you have been fonder of rambling in the -woods than conning dry lessons in the abbey of St. Clare."</p> - -<p class="normal">He spoke in a gay and kindly manner, which conveyed no reproof; but -Iola blushed a little while she answered--</p> - -<p class="normal">"Surely! My dear aunt has not been very severe with me; and every day, -when the sun was bright and the skies blue, I have gone out--sometimes -with my girl Alice, sometimes alone, sometimes on foot, sometimes on a -mule, sometimes to bear a message to woodman or tenant, sometimes for -pure idleness. And yet not pure idleness either, my lord; for I do not -know why, but amidst these old trees and upon the top of the hill, -where I catch a view of all the woods and fields and rivers below, -bright and beautiful and soft, it seems as if my heart rose up to -Heaven more lightly than under the vault of the chapel and amongst its -tall columns of stone. Then sometimes I sit beneath a spreading oak, -and look at its giant limbs, and compare them with the wild anemone -that grows at its foot, and lose myself in musing over the everlasting -variety that I see. But hark! those voices are very loud. They cannot -be coming nearer, surely."</p> - -<p class="normal">"You are brave at a distance, daughter," said the bishop calmly; "but -be not alarmed. They are only raised a little higher."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Oh, no," she answered; "I am no coward; and you would see, if they -did come near, I should not lose my wits."</p> - -<p class="normal">Almost as she spoke, a voice exclaimed, in a one not very loud--</p> - -<p class="normal">"Who goes there?" and Iola started, and laid her hand on the bishop's -arm, as if to keep him back.</p> - -<p class="normal">"It is Boyd the woodman's voice, I think," she said in a whisper. -"Slip in behind that great tree, and I will go on and see."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Who goes there?" repeated the voice again raised higher; and Iola, -taking a step or two forward, demanded--</p> - -<p class="normal">"Who is it that asks?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Is that you, Lady Iola?" said the voice, as soon as the woman's tone -was distinguished.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Yes," answered Iola. "Is it Boyd who speaks?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"The same," answered the woodman. "Have you brought him? Where is he? -Is he safe?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"He is here, he is here," answered Iola. "Father, this is Boyd the -woodman, in whom you can fully trust."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Ah, lady, lady," murmured the woodman, coming forward, "where is the -man in whom you can fully trust?"</p> - -<p class="normal">Advancing towards him, Iola and the prelate found that he had been -standing in a small open space at the angle of two roads, both of -which led more or less directly to St. Magdalen's cell. The light on -the spot was faint, but the woodman's tall and powerful figure was not -to be mistaken; and, having resigned her charge to him, Iola turned to -the prelate, saying,</p> - -<p class="normal">"Now I will go back as fast as possible, father."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Stay a moment, my child," replied the bishop. "May the Almighty bless -and protect you, and guide you in safety unto all peace;" and he laid -his hand tenderly on her head.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Do not go in rashly, lady," said the woodman, "but stay in the little -vaulted chamber at the end of the passage, till you hear matins sung -in the chapel. The place will not be free of these rovers till then. -If you hear not matins or prime, you may suppose that they still keep -possession. In that case, you had better come away to me, dear -lady--you know that I will take care of you."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Oh, I know that well, Boyd," replied Iola. "Good night, good -night--see to this reverend father's safety before all things."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Ay, that will take two good hours at least," said the woodman, "or I -would go back with you myself, dear lady; but I think you are safe -enough alone."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I have no fear," answered Iola; and she tripped lightly away, -retreading the path back towards the cell.</p> - -<p class="normal">That path led along the rising ground just at the verge of the forest, -where the trees were thin and the undergrowth scanty, so that the -sounds from the abbey continued to reach the fair girl's ears as she -pursued it. She thought she heard the sound of horses' feet somewhat -nearer, also, as if coming from the road that led up through the -forest. At the same time it seemed to her that a redder glare, and a -broader light spread over the sky, reflected thence upon the little -footway which she trod. "They must have piled more wood upon the -beacon," she thought; but yet she felt some degree of alarm.</p> - -<p class="normal">Hurrying on, she at length reached the spot where the path passed at -the back of the cell, and turning quickly round the little building, -the abbey, with the slight rise on which it stood, was once more -before her sight. What was her terror and surprise at that moment, -when she saw the beacon light extinguished, but a still wider and more -fearful glare rising up from the little green, the houses surrounding -which were all in flames. Several of the wooden cottages were already -down, the still burning beams and rafters lying in piles upon the -ground, like huge bonfires casting up a cloud of sparks into the -flickering fiery air above; and across the glare might now be seen a -number of dark figures moving about upon the green, some on horseback, -some on foot. From the house of the priests and choristers was rising -up a tall spire of flame, sometimes clear and bright, sometimes -obscured by a cloud of smoke and sparks; but the abbey itself was -still unfired, and stood out dark and solemn in the midst of the -blaze, with the light gleaming here and there upon the walls and -pinnacles.</p> - -<p class="normal">The first sight startled and horrified her; but she did not pause to -gaze at it, till she had entered the chapel and closed the iron gate, -as if for protection; but then she stood and watched the flames for a -moment or two, and at length asked herself what she should do.</p> - -<p class="normal">"I will go back," she answered, after a moment's thought. "I will not -be absent from my poor aunt's side at such a moment;" and she turned -to seek the door into the passage. Then, for the first time, she -perceived that it was closed, and recollected the warning of the -abbess to leave it ajar. She now felt really terrified; and that need -of protection and help, that want of something to lean upon and to -trust in, which most women experience in the hour of danger, made -itself terribly felt.</p> - -<p class="normal">"What will become of me? Where shall I go? What shall I do?" she -murmured anxiously; and then, again and again, cast a timid glance at -the burning buildings on the opposite side of the dell. "I will go to -Boyd's house," she said at length. "I can find protection there."</p> - -<p class="normal">But suddenly she remembered what he had said, in regard to the time he -should be occupied in providing for the safety of the bishop; but her -determination was at length expressed--"I shall be more safe there -than here at all events. I will go;" and, without further hesitation, -she crept back into the path again.</p> - -<p class="normal">Iola now knew for the first time in life, perhaps, what it is to fear, -and how the imagination is excited by apprehension. The sight of the -burning buildings had shaken her nerves. She crept along as stealthily -as if she feared that every tree was an enemy. She thought she heard -sounds too, near at hand as she went on, and then tried to persuade -herself that it was but the waving of the trees in the wind. Then she -felt sure that somebody must be near; she quickened her pace to reach -a path which turned suddenly to the right; but at the very entrance, -when she reached it, there was standing a figure, the form of which -she could not distinctly see; but it seemed tall and thin, and -garmented all in white, according to the popular idea of a phantom. -She recoiled in terror, and would have fled back again; but there -directly in her way was another figure; and a voice exclaimed, as she -was turning once more to fly--</p> - -<p class="normal">"Lady, lady, whither away? Stay yet a moment--stay, it is a friend."</p> - -<p class="normal">She thought she knew the tones; but, as the stranger approached, she -receded, asking--</p> - -<p class="normal">"Who is it? Who is it?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"It is Lord Chartley," he said. "Stay, stay! You are running upon -danger."</p> - -<p class="normal">The last words were needless; for, before they were fully uttered, -Iola had not only stopped but sprung forward to meet him.</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h3>CHAPTER X.</h3> -<br> - -<p class="normal">Human fate, or rather the fate of the whole human race, is but as a -web of cloth fixed in the frame of circumstances, with an unseen hand -continually throwing the shuttle. The threads may be infinite, and -some far apart from others; some in the centre, some at the selvage, -but all tied and bound together by filaments that run across and -across, and never ceasing till the piece is finished. When will that -be? Heaven only knows. Certainly not till the end of the world.</p> - -<p class="normal">We must now, by the reader's permission, leave the thread of Iola, and -take up that of the abbess where we last left it.</p> - -<p class="normal">As soon as she had closed the door and pushed to the panelling which -concealed it, the abbess reascended to the nun's gallery in the -chapel, and thence proceeded into the great body of the building. She -found, as may be supposed, the utmost confusion and alarm prevailing; -for by this time the noise of the great bell, and of the various -sounds that were rising up around the walls, had roused all the nuns -from their pallets, and, with consternation in their countenances, -they were hurrying hither and thither, seeking something, and not -knowing very well what they sought. Although a good deal alarmed -herself, and unable to foresee what might be the end of all that was -taking place, the abbess, whose heart was naturally merry, could -almost have laughed at the grotesque accidents which fear produced; -but, having more mind and character than the whole convent put -together, she at once proceeded to restore order.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Go at once to the chapel," she said to every nun she saw; "gather all -the sisterhood there, and see that none be omitted. I will join you -soon."</p> - -<p class="normal">This order had to be repeated frequently; for at every step she met -some one, and several required it to be reiterated two or three times, -before terror would suffer them to comprehend it.</p> - -<p class="normal">At length, passing round the end of the chapel, the abbess entered the -great court, and found to her joy and satisfaction a much greater body -of men drawn up for her defence than she expected; for the woodman had -not been idle during the morning, and many more of the peasantry had -been warned to listen for the sound of the bell than the voice of the -porter could summon. Four of the inferior foresters also had somehow -found their way into the building, dressed in leathern coats and iron -caps, and each carried on his shoulder a sort of weapon, which none -within the walls had ever seen before. This was a sort of small -cannon, fastened upon a rudely constructed stock, and fitted to carry -a ball of the weight of two or three ounces. There was no lock, nor -any contrivance even for applying fire to the touch-hole by one -movement; but round the arm of the bearer was twined a coil of match, -which one of the men was as at that moment lighting at the porter's -lantern.<a name="div4Ref_01" href="#div4_01"><sup>[1]</sup></a></p> - -<p class="normal">"What is that? What is that?" cried the abbess; "it looks like a -little falconet."</p> - -<p class="normal">"It is a hand-gun, lady," said the forester. "Some of our people -brought them from Burgundy; and Boyd sent in these four. When it is -time to use them, we hoist them over our shoulders; and, while the men -behind take aim, we fire."</p> - -<p class="normal">The abbess mused, for the invention was quite new to her; and, -strangely clumsy as it was, it seemed to her a wonderful discovery in -the art of war. She even grew very valiant on the strength of it, and -called aloud for the bailiff, to consult with him upon the means of -defence. The bailiff could not be found, however; and the porter -informed her, with a grin, that he had gone to the buttery, thinking -that there must be the principal point of attack.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Bring him hither directly," said the abbess; "bring him by the ears, -if he will not otherwise come. In the mean time how many men have we -here?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Three and thirty, my lady," replied the old porter, while one or two -ran away to bring the bailiff; "three and thirty, besides the gun-men. -I think we can make good the place till morning; and then we shall -have the whole country up to help us. But if you would take my advice, -you would lock that bailiff up in a cell. He cools men's hearts with -his cowardice. I wish he were half as brave as you, my lady."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Well then you must command, porter," said the abbess. "Let some of -the men take their bows and cross-bows up to the top of the portal, -while others keep watch upon the walls all round, that they may not -raise ladders without our knowing it. Let the four men with the -hand-cannons draw up across the chapel door for the present. They can -there very well fire upon the gates, if the enemy should break them -down."</p> - -<p class="normal">The porter was venturing to remonstrate, pointing out that the gun-men -would be better on the walls, when the unfortunate bailiff was dragged -into the abbess's presence, with a face so pale and eyes so haggard, -that his very look convicted him. He smelt strongly of wine too, so -that it was clear he had been seeking to gain courage from other -sources than his own heart.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Coward!" cried the abbess, as soon as she saw him, "are you not -ashamed to see women set you an example in defending the rights of the -church, while you are slinking away from your duty? Take him hence," -she continued, as he attempted to stutter forth some vain excuses. -"Take him hence at once, and lock him up in the first cell on the -left hand. Away with him, for fear his cowardice should become -infectious!--Hark! They are upon the green. There is a trumpet. I will -go up to the window above the gates, and speak with them. Let not the -men shoot till I give the word."</p> - -<p class="normal">Two or three of the people round besought her to forbear, especially -the priest and the principal chorister; but the abbess not only -persisted in her resolution, but besought them to accompany her, in a -tone which did not admit of refusal; and, walking on with an air of -more dignity than one would have supposed her little plump figure -could display, she ascended the stairs in the left hand tower of the -portal, and presented herself at the grated window just above the -gates. The part of the green nearest to the abbey was now covered with -armed men, principally on horseback, though some had dismounted and -were approaching the gates. A group of six or seven, who were -apparently leaders, were seen at a little distance on the left, and -one of them was at that moment raising his voice to an armed peasant -who had appeared upon the walls. The abbess, however, cut short this -oratory in the commencement, by demanding, in that shrill high key -which makes itself heard so much farther than even a louder voice at a -lower note: "What want ye here, my masters? How come you here in arms -before the abbey of St. Clare? Bid those men keep back from the gates! -Else I will instantly bid the soldiers shoot and the cannon fire."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Cannons!" cried one of the leaders with a laugh. "By my fay, the -place seems a fortress instead of an abbey."</p> - -<p class="normal">"You will find it so to your cost, uncivil churl, if you attempt to -plunder here," cried the abbess. "Bid them keep back, I say, or bide -the consequence!"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Halt, there, keep back!" cried the leader who had before spoken; and -pushing his own horse under the window where the abbess stood, he -looked up, saying, "They were but going to ring the bell. Are you the -lady abbess?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"What need of six men to ring the bell?" exclaimed the abbess. "If you -need so many hands to do small work, you will require more than you -have brought here to get the gates open. I am the lady abbess, and I -bid you go hence and leave me and my children at peace, upon pain of -anathema, and the greater and the lesser excommunication. I know not -whether ye be the same who came to plunder us some time ago; but, if -ye be, ye will find us better prepared now than we were then, though -it cost you dear, even at that time."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Listen, listen, good lady," said the horseman; "for, if you do not -hear, you cannot understand, and a woman's tongue is sometimes worse -than a cannon."</p> - -<p class="normal">"You will find the thunder of the church worse still," cried the lady.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Of that we are not afraid," answered the other; "for we come not to -plunder, or commit any act of violence, unless we are driven to it."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Pardieu, this is all chattering and nonsense," cried another man, who -had ridden up from behind. "Break open the gates, Sir John. If you do -not, I will; for they will convey the man away, and by Heaven, if they -do, I will burn the place about their ears!"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Peace, peace!" cried the other. "They cannot convey him away. Our men -are all round the walls. Listen to me for a moment, lady. We have -certain information that a man took refuge here last night, disguised -as a friar. Him we must have forth; and if you will bring him out and -give him up, we will ride away quietly and leave you. If not, we must -find our way in and take him. We should be sorry to hurt any of your -people, or to do any damage; but, when a place is forced, you know, -soldiers are under no command, and the consequence be upon your own -head. We must have him out."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Do you not know that this is sanctuary," cried the abbess, "and, even -if he had committed parricide or treason, any man would be safe within -these walls."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Ay, but he has not committed any offence which makes sanctuary -available," replied the other. "This is a deserter from his right -standard, and we will have him forth, sanctuary or no sanctuary."</p> - -<p class="normal">"There is no such man within the walls of St. Clare," replied the -abbess. "I only stand up for the privileges of the place, because they -are its privileges; but at the same time, I tell you that there is no -sanctuary man here, of any kind or description whatever."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Hell and damnation!" exclaimed the more vehement of the leaders. -"Will you pretend to tell me that a man did not come here this very -evening, habited as a friar, who never went forth again with those who -brought him? On upon the gates there. This is all jugglery!"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Hold yet a moment, ere it comes to strife," exclaimed the abbess; and -the other leader also exclaimed:</p> - -<p class="normal">"Hold, hold there! What would you say, lady? for we cannot be dallied -with."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I say," replied the abbess, "that the damnation you evoke will some -day fall upon your own heads, if you pursue this course. Moreover, I -tell you, that there is no such man here, nor any man at all, but the -tenants and officers of the abbey. A friar certainly did come here -this evening, with a goodly company of guests. He did not depart with -them; but he went away afterwards, and is no longer here--hear me out! -To save bloodshed, I will give you the means of satisfying yourselves, -protesting, at the same time, against the act you commit, and clearly -reserving my right to punish you for it, at an after time, when you -shall not plead my permission as an excuse."</p> - -<p class="normal">"We will look to that," cried one of the others boldly. "Open your -gates. We shall not want excuses for anything we do."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Nay!" answered the abbess. "I open not my gates to all your lewd -band. Any six may enter, if they will, and search every corner of the -abbey, from one end to the other. You will then soon see, that I have -means of defence if I choose to exert them. If you accept the terms, -bid all the rest of the men retire to the other side of the green. If -not, I will tell the cross-bow men and cannoniers to fire."</p> - -<p class="normal">"We must have ten with us, otherwise we shall never get through the -search," said the leader, who had first spoken.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Well, ten be it then," said the abbess. "We shall only have more in -our hands to hang, if those without attempt to play us any treachery."</p> - -<p class="normal">"You are merry, lady," said the leader. "Is it so agreed?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Yes!" replied the abbess; "bid your men back, quite to the other -side. Then let ten advance, and I will come down and order them to be -admitted."</p> - -<p class="normal">She waited till she had seen the retreat of the band, to the far part -of the green; and then descending, she gave her orders with great -clearness and rapidity, directing such arrangements to be made as -would display her little force to the greatest advantage, and ordering -her porter as the commander-in-chief, to send two or three stout men -with each party of the searchers, keeping a wary eye at the same time -upon the band without, to insure they did not approach nearer to the -gates.</p> - -<p class="normal">She then retired into the chapel, where she found the nuns all -gathered round the great altar, like a swarm of bees. Having quieted -and re-assured them, as well as she could, she betook herself to the -window, which gave light to the gallery appropriated to the -sisterhood, and, opening the lattice, looked out into the court. By -this time, the ten men to whom she had promised admittance were -entering, one by one, through the wicket; and she flattered herself -that their faces, seen by the light of the torches, showed some -surprise at the numbers collected for the defence of the place. The -first part of the building, however, which they chose to search, was -the chapel, and hurrying down, she met them at the great altar in the -midst of her nuns. No incivility was committed; for the men without, -with their loaded hand-guns, and some fifteen or sixteen others, with -steel cross-bows in their hands, had imposed a salutary reverence upon -the intruders. The chapel, however, was searched in every part; and -when this was done, the soldiers gone, and the door once more locked, -the abbess again resumed her station at the window, with a heart -which, notwithstanding her bold exterior, beat somewhat anxiously for -the departure of the band.</p> - -<p class="normal">She saw the buildings on either side of the court examined thoroughly; -and then, dividing into three parties, the searchers proceeded on -their way, disappearing from her sight. She listened for their voices -as they went, and could trace them part of the way round the great -quadrangle; but then all was silent again, and she judged that they -had gone to the most remote parts of the building--perhaps even to the -gardens--to sweep it all the way up, in order to prevent the -possibility of a fugitive escaping.</p> - -<p class="normal">All was silent for a few minutes, except the low murmurs of the -abbey-men speaking in the court below; but then came some sounds which -startled and alarmed the abbess; for, after a crash, as of a door -forced open, she could distinctly hear a shout of "Here he is, here he -is! We've got him."</p> - -<p class="normal">A loud murmuring of many tongues succeeded; and in a state of -trembling anxiety, she waited for the result, till, to her great -relief and even amusement, she beheld the whole party of ten -re-appear, dragging along her cowardly bailiff in the midst of them, -while several of the retainers of the abbey followed with a look of -malicious fun upon their faces.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Upon my life! upon my soul! by all the blessed saints, I tell you -true," cried the unhappy bailiff. "Here, Giles, porter, tell them who -I am, man--He can tell you--he can tell you."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Faith, you are mistaken there, if you call me porter," said the man -he addressed. "I know nothing about you. You are mistaken in me, good -sir. I am the bailiff of the abbey."</p> - -<p class="normal">"There, there," said one of the leaders of the soldiery. "It is all in -vain, my good lord, so come along--there, take him out."</p> - -<p class="normal">The abbess could not refrain from laughing, although she felt a strong -inclination to interfere, and claim the poor bailiff as the especial -property of the convent. Before she could make up her mind, however, -the man was past the gates; but still, while one party of the -searchers remained in the court, another turned back and pursued the -examination, till not a hole or corner of the abbey was left -unexplored.</p> - -<p class="normal">In the meanwhile, however, a great deal of loud cursing and swearing -was heard from the green; words of command were given, orders shouted -forth; and at length, the porter hurriedly closed the wicket, -exclaiming--</p> - -<p class="normal">"Up to the walls! Bend your cross-bows! What are they about now?--You -gunners, stand here below!--You pass not, sir, you pass not, till we -know what all this is," he continued, addressing the leader who had -first spoken to the abbess, and who, with three companions, now -hurried into the court from the more secluded part of the building.</p> - -<p class="normal">"I know not what it is any more than you do, my good man," replied the -other; "but if you let me out, I will soon see."</p> - -<p class="normal">"They are coming forward towards the gates, sir!" exclaimed the -porter. "Shoot at them if they come too close, my men!--You are a -knight, sir, it seems; and we will keep you as a hostage for the -safety of the abbey."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Nay, I cannot be answerable for that unless you let me forth," -replied the other; "but if you do, I pledge my knightly word, as a -gentleman and a Christian, that all the troops shall be drawn off, and -the abbey left unmolested."</p> - -<p class="normal">He spoke eagerly and hastily, evidently under some alarm but the old -porter was not satisfied, and he replied--</p> - -<p class="normal">"Here, put it down and your name to it. Here are pen and ink, and the -visitor's book in the lodge." The officer hurried in, and did as was -required at once; for the four unpleasant-looking hand culverins were -pointed at him and his companions, and a lighted match in each man's -hand ready to discharge them. "There it is," he said, when he had -written, "Now let me pass."</p> - -<p class="normal">The porter looked over the writing. Whether he could read or not, I -cannot tell; but when he had satisfied himself as far as he was able, -he cautiously opened the wicket, and let the intruders pass out one by -one.</p> - -<p class="normal">The commander led the way, hurrying on with a quick step; and he -certainly did not arrive as soon as he could have wished.</p> - -<p class="normal">"What is the matter?" he exclaimed; "what is the matter?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Mort Dieu!" cried the second in command, "we have been cheated, Sir -John. This man is not the bishop after all. Here is one of our own -people who knows him, and says he is really the bailiff."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I am indeed," cried the miserable coward; "and if you would have let -me, I would have told you all long ago."</p> - -<p class="normal">"He Says, the friar was there not an hour ago," vociferated the second -in command, "and that they must have got him out, either into these -houses, or into the wood, as we were coming up the valley."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Search the houses," said the commander; "and send a troop up the road -to the wood."</p> - -<p class="normal">"It is done, it is done," cried the other. "The men are furious; for -they will lose all share of the reward. By Satan and all his imps," he -added, "I believe they have set fire to the houses."</p> - -<p class="normal">"This will come to a serious reckoning," said the commander gravely. -"Try and stop the fire there. Call off the men;" and, as promptly as -might be, he did all that was possible to remedy the evil that had -been done. As every one who has had the command of rude men must know, -however, there are times when they become perfectly ungovernable. Such -was the case at present. They were an irregular and ruthless body who -now surrounded the abbey; and without attending to the orders they -received, to the remonstrances or even to the threats of their -commander, they set fire to every building on the right hand side of -the green. Nor would the others have escaped the same fate, nor the -abbey itself have been left unassailed, had not the officer, as a last -resource, commanded the trumpets to sound, and ordered all who could -be gathered together to march up the road, for the purpose of -searching the forest.</p> - -<p class="normal">The stragglers followed, as soon as they found that the principal part -of the troop had left them; and the whole force, except three or four, -who remained to complete the pillage of the priest's house, marched -slowly up, till a halt was sounded under the first trees of the wood.</p> - -<p class="normal">There, however, the officer in command selected some twenty men from -his band, and rode back to the abbey green. The rest of the men halted -where they stood, inquiring of each other what could be the meaning of -this proceeding.</p> - -<p class="normal">He gave no explanation even when he returned; but the next morning, at -daybreak, three bodies were found hanging by the neck from poles stuck -into the thatch of one of the unconsumed cottages.</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h3>CHAPTER XI.</h3> -<br> - -<p class="normal">"Oh, I am very glad!" exclaimed Iola, in a tone so confiding, so -joyful, that it made Chartley's heart thrill.</p> - -<p class="normal">There is certainly something in trust and confidence that is -wonderfully winning. Even with man--fierce, bloody, all-devouring -man--it is hardly possible to resist sacred confidence. The birds, the -beasts which trust us, and show their trust by cheerful familiarity, -we spare and cherish. The robin hops upon the window sill, and we feed -it with the crumbs from our table; and--to go from the least to the -greatest--we are told, that if we too trust in God, He will feed us, -as we feed the bird.</p> - -<p class="normal">Yes, there is something very winning in confidence; and Lord Chartley, -though he could not see the fair face of Iola distinctly, thought her -more beautiful at that moment than when she had been sitting by his -side at the abbey.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Dear lady," he said, taking her hand and speaking in a low voice, "it -rejoices me that you are glad; and right glad am I too, believe me, to -find you, though I did not rightly expect it. I have seen our friend -the woodman but now, and him whom you wot of. They are safely across -the road; but I could not be satisfied, when I heard that you had gone -back alone, without following you, to assure myself of your safety. -Why did you--"</p> - -<p class="normal">"But who is that--who is that up there?" demanded Iola, pointing with -her left hand, in the direction of the spot where she had seen another -figure standing, but not withdrawing her right from that of the young -nobleman, and, on the contrary, creeping closer to him.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Fear not," replied Chartley; "it is only my good slave. I stationed -him there, to warn you there was danger on that path, while I crept -through the trees, to see you safely to the cell. Why did you turn -back? Are you afraid to go through the passage alone?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"No, no," she answered; "but, alas, the door is closed, and cannot be -opened from this side."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Unfortunate indeed!" exclaimed Lord Chartley. "What is to be done -now?--Where are you to pass the night?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Oh," replied Iola, in a frank cheerful tone, "I fear not now when you -are with me. I will go at once to the good woodman's cottage, if you -will but kindly take care of me till I reach it. I shall be quite safe -there."</p> - -<p class="normal">"It would be indeed a pleasant task," replied her young companion; -"but it is impossible, either for you or me, dear lady, to reach the -cottage without danger, to which you must not be exposed. There is -already one troop of these men upon the road; and, if I judge rightly -by the trumpet I heard just now, others will soon follow. It would -seem that they have discovered our good friend's escape, and are -pursuing him hither. Besides, the woodman will not be at his dwelling -for several hours. I saw him across the road, just before the head of -the troop came up the hill; and then, after watching for a moment, and -perceiving that they sent parties forward, as if to patrol, I came on -hither, fearful for you."</p> - -<p class="normal">"You are very kind," said Iola, in a low and sweet but sad tone. "What -I am to do now, I know not. I must pass the night in the wood, I -fancy, like the poor children that they tell of. Would that I had -brought warmer garments; for in truth it is not warm; and, what -between fear and cold, I am shaking already.--What will become of me, -I wonder?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Nay, the cold shall be soon remedied," answered the young nobleman. -"This furred surcoat could not serve a fairer purpose or a fairer -maid, though in truth it might hold two such slight fairy forms as -this.--Nay, I insist upon it," he continued, as he wrapped the warm -garment round her: "and as for fear, dear lady, tremble not for that. -I will defend you with my life, and will not part with you, till I see -you safely back within the walls of the abbey, or at least under your -good aunt's protection. Besides, I have strong help at need, in the -strength of my good Arab's arm. Woe be to the rover who meets the edge -of his scimitar. Nevertheless, we must find out some place of refuge -for the night, if it be but a bower of green boughs, where you can -sleep while I guard you as your sentinel."</p> - -<p class="normal">"It were better to seek some more secure hiding-place," answered Iola, -"where these people will not find us. There is what they call Prince -Edward's cave, I know not why; but that is on the other side of the -road."</p> - -<p class="normal">"The woodman spoke of an old castle on the hill," said the young -nobleman. "I saw the keep too, towering up from below; but now I -cannot tell which way it lies."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Oh, I can find the way," cried Iola gladly. "I know every path -thither, and almost every stone in the building. It lies on this side -of the hill too, though it is more than a mile off."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Then let us thither if you can find the way," replied Chartley. -"Should we be pursued, we can play at hide and seek there, or, at the -worst, make good some tower or staircase till help comes. Were I sure -that there is any officer or man of repute with these bands, I should -not fear for you, but so fair a flower must not be trusted in the rude -hands of lawless soldiery."</p> - -<p class="normal">Iola did not, or would not, notice the last words. Indeed, it is rare, -when a phrase contains several parts, that more than one is attended -to by any individual. She fixed at once upon what he had said -regarding the old castle, and answered, "Oh, we can play at hide and -seek with them there, for a year, if we can but reach it safely; and I -think I can lead you thither by a path they will never dream of; for -still, while approaching, it seems to be turning away from the object -at which it aims."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Somewhat like woman's wit, dear lady," answered Lord Chartley, -laughing, "which I must say often takes the prettiest ways imaginable -to its ends, in gay meanderings round and round. But come. There is no -fear of their attempting to search the wood, this night at least, -though they may try to watch all the outlets. We shall pass safe -enough, if we enter upon no high roads."</p> - -<p class="normal">"No, no," answered Iola, with a little spice of vengeance. "They shall -be all crooked, narrow, and obscure, like man's policy. Here, we must -turn up here, and take up your Moor by the way."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Lean upon my arm then," said Chartley, drawing hers through his own. -"You will need some support on this long journey."</p> - -<p class="normal">"It will be like the journey of life," she answered, "where sometimes -we must tread the narrow path singly and unsupported; sometimes -guiding and helping each other."</p> - -<p class="normal">Thus saying, she walked on with him, leaning lightly on his arm, but -musing as she went. Chartley spoke a few words to Ibn Ayoub, bidding -him follow a few steps behind, and keep a watchful ear for any sounds -of pursuit; and thus he and his fair companion proceeded for about -five minutes in silence, till at length Iola broke from her fit of -musing, saying abruptly, "Heaven help me! What would my poor aunt -think if she knew that I was wandering here alone with you, my lord?"</p> - -<p class="normal">Lord Chartley thought he perceived in those words a certain portion of -doubt and fear, which he could not but own was natural, but yet he was -very anxious to remove. "I trust she would be glad," he replied, "that -you had met with one, by a strange accident, in whom you and she can -fully trust, to guard and defend you against all wrong. I think you -know that such a one is by your side."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Oh that I do," she answered, looking up towards his face, though she -could not see it. "Do not suppose I have any fears of you, my lord; -for I feel as if I had known you many a year; and, though they say we -should judge no man rashly, yet I am right sure you would neither -wrong me nor see me wronged, for any good the world could give. My -aunt, however, might be more suspicious; for she has strange notions -of the world, and I trust not true ones."</p> - -<p class="normal">Chartley was silent for a moment or two, and then laughed gaily.</p> - -<p class="normal">"It were easy," he replied at length, "to say as I was just going to -say--Trust me, and doubt all other men; but I had better say nothing -of the kind, however, for I can neither tell you rightly why you -should suspect others, nor give you a good reason why you should trust -me. Happy is it, in my case, that you have no choice. Trust me you -must, sweet girl, whether you will or not; but believe me," he added, -thinking he felt a certain tendency to withdraw her arm from his, -"believe me, that trust is not misplaced, and never will be. So now I -will make no more professions. There is another blast of the trumpet; -but it is farther off than before."</p> - -<p class="normal">"It comes down the hill," answered Iola. "They have got farther on -than we have; but yet we shall beat them, I trust; for the many are -ever outwitted by the few, I hear, though, good sooth, I know nothing -of life, and but repeat such sage sayings as an old nurse's songs, -without being sure if they be to the right tune or not.--Oh, prudery," -she continued gaily, "what would the dear nuns, and sister Bridget -especially, say, if they could hear me thus chattering with a young -lord, in a dark wood, when there is so much sad and sober earnest -going on near?--You too, perhaps, think it strange; but I have had so -little practice in concealing what I think, that my foolishness ever -rushes to my lips before my slow wit can start forth to stop it."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Nay, I think no such thing," replied Lord Chartley, "for, by my -faith, the case is much the same with me. Besides, did we not make a -bargain at supper time, that the casket was not to be closed, but all -the jewels of the heart were to be left unveiled?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"True," she answered. "It was a rash promise; but like all promises, I -suppose, it must be kept; and indeed, had it not been made, I am -afraid the course would have been the same; for the key of that casket -which you talk of is seldom to be found when needed; and the lock is -somewhat rusty, from being left always open.--Think not, however, I -would act or speak thus to all men; for had you, as did the only young -man I ever saw twice before yourself, talked of my beautiful eyes or -my charming fingers--or even, like the friend who was with you, had -you thrown out a pretty neat-turned compliment upon bright and -beautiful looks, to be picked up by any one who thought it worth the -stooping for, I should have been as grave and silent as a deaf -canoness, or have run away from you as fast as my feet could carry me; -but you spoke of better things, though gaily, and seemed to me to know -what is due, from knight and gentleman, to a woman and a lady, and -therefore, my good lord, I trust you as a friend, and speak to you as -a brother."</p> - -<p class="normal">Whatever were the feelings of Lord Chartley--whether he felt inclined -to remain in the cool relationship of friend and brother, or whether -there were not growing upon him sensations towards his fair companion -of a somewhat warmer nature, he was well aware that fraternal regard -is one of the very best and most serviceable trenches for attacking -the citadel of a woman's heart, and consequently he thanked Iola -gracefully for her trust, and did nothing in the world to scare the -timidity of early confidence. Perhaps his was a character to win it -more quickly than that of most men; gay, cheerful, brave, apparently -thoughtless, but in reality considerate and reflective, light-hearted -from strong corporeal health, fair fortunes, and self-reliance, as -well as from a hopeful and sanguine heart, one seemed at once to see -clear and distinct from the act to the motive, from the words to the -emotions in which they originated. There was none of that misty -clouded policy, none of that obscure and twilight art, which is sure -to create suspicion and place the minds of others on their guard; but -all was frank, open, free; and though people might judge him to be -more rash than he really was, and heedless of consequences when he was -in reality quite the reverse, no one ever for a moment suspected half -the deep feeling that was in his heart, or the cool though rapid -reflection which went on in his mind.</p> - -<p class="normal">We are inclined to imagine that when a man acts quickly and decidedly, -even in cases where there is no need of haste, that he acts -imprudently and without due consideration. We say--"he might have -taken time for thought."</p> - -<p class="normal">But thought is a very different thing in the minds of different men. -With one, it is the cart-horse which plods slowly along with its heavy -load from one point of the road to another. With others, it is the -race-horse, darting like an arrow shot from a bow to the object in -view. The distance and the path are the same, but only they are -travelled more rapidly in the one instance than in the other. -Undoubtedly the race-horse was the illustration of Chartley's mind. It -would have foamed and fretted to be restrained to the slow progress -which many another man preferred; and when forced to proceed tardily, -in order to keep the same pace as others, like the same horse, it -would curvet and passage, showing its impatience by a thousand wild -gambols.</p> - -<p class="normal">Short specimens of conversations are enough upon all ordinary -occasions; and therefore I will only say, that the young nobleman and -his fair companion, followed by the Arab, at the distance of eight or -ten yards, threaded their way through the wood paths, lightly and -easily, talking as they went. It may seem strange that they so soon -lost the sense of apprehension, and could converse on other things, -while dangers were round about; but it was a part of the characters of -both, to be little and but transiently impressible by any thing like -fear. Hope was ever predominant in the heart of each, and hope is -certainly a great element of courage. Danger was thought of only while -it was actually present; and imagination was fonder of plucking -flowers than looking out for thorns. True, they stopped and listened -from time to time, to make themselves sure that no enemies were near. -True, that when Iola had to lead the way through one of those narrow -paths, where two could not go abreast, she sometimes looked back to -assure herself that Chartley was near her; but when they were -together, they generally conversed gaily, and often even laughed, -although Iola felt some apprehensions for her good aunt and her -cousin, which could not be altogether removed, even by Chartley's -assurances that the burning of the houses upon the green was the -strongest proof of Richard's bands not having got into the abbey.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Besides," he said, "I am quite sure that the commanders of these men, -as long as they have the troops under their own eye, would not suffer -them to commit any violence in a religious house; for the king himself -is devout, as we all know, and though he might wink at a violation of -sanctuary, for his own purpose, he would punish severely any -unnecessary injury done in effecting it."</p> - -<p class="normal">These arguments certainly were consolatory to Iola, and left the fears -which still lingered, only as passing shades, coming across her mind -for a moment, and soon disappearing, like those cast by light clouds -floating over the sun in a summer's day.</p> - -<p class="normal">Onward they walked then, amidst the branches of the wood, and along -the paths out in the thick underwood, still covered by the brown -leaves of the preceding year. The thaw which had prevailed since the -night before had penetrated even into the depths of the wood; and the -grass was covered with unfrozen drops which rendered it almost as -white as under the hoar frost. This was peculiarly the case upon what -may be called the first step of the hill; but the path soon began to -ascend, at first winding gently about upon the upland slope, and then, -spreading out to a greater width, ran along under some high cliffy -banks, somewhat too steep to surmount in a direct line. Here, from -time to time, a beautiful view of the abbey, with the lower grounds -surrounding it, might have been obtained, had there been daylight; and -even in the darkness of the night, aided by a faint light from the -smoking ruins of the cottages on the green, the eye could distinguish -the sombre masses of the old pile, rising above all the surrounding -objects.</p> - -<p class="normal">"You see the abbey is safe," said Chartley, in a low tone; "and the -fires are going out. I hear no sound.--Perhaps these troops are -withdrawn."</p> - -<p class="normal">"We could soon see," said Iola, "if we turned to the westward, for -there is a little point, which commands a view of the road."</p> - -<p class="normal">Perhaps Chartley did not very much wish to see; for, to say the truth, -he had no great inclination to part with his fair companion so soon. -He had made up his mind, by this time, to the not unpleasant task of -passing the rest of the night with her in the old castle. There was a -spirit of adventure in it--a touch of that romance which is agreeable -to almost every young man's mind. Nevertheless, he thought it more -proper to follow the suggestion, although the result might be to -convey her back to the abbey, and send him onward on his way to -Hinckley. They turned then in the direction she indicated, and, at the -distance of about a hundred and fifty yards, came to a spot where a -small stream welled from the high bank, and the waters were gathered, -before they crossed the road, into a small clear pool; a beautiful -object and beautifully situated. The rugged cliff from which the -spring flowed, like a parent looking into a child's eyes, bent over -the fountain, and caught the image of itself. The stars were mirrored -in it; and a light birch that grew beside it bent its head down to -drink.</p> - -<p class="normal">"I will sit here," said Iola, "upon this stone, where I have often sat -before, if you will run up the bank by that little path, which will -lead you to a spot where a greater part of the road can be seen. Stop -where the path stops; and do not be long, for I shall be frightened. I -do not know whether you can see anything upon the road in this dark -night; but the sand is light of colour, so as to show anything dark -moving upon it, I think."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I will leave the Arab with you," said Chartley. "You can trust him -fully. Stay with the lady, Ibn Ayoub," he continued, "and guard her as -you would the prophet's tomb."</p> - -<p class="normal">The man folded his arms upon his breast, and remained precisely in the -same attitude, at the distance of three or four paces, while his lord -ran lightly up the path; and Iola, seating herself by the fountain, -gazed down upon the limpid water, from which a dim shadowy form looked -up at her again. What were her thoughts then? Perhaps, she too -contemplated the result of all obstacles to her return to the abbey -being removed, the consequent parting with her young and kind -companion, and the probability of her never meeting with him again. It -was not without a feeling of regret. She almost wished that she had -not proposed to Chartley to see whether the troops were still there or -not; and then she was angry with herself for entertaining such -feelings. Then she meditated upon the passing the night with him in -the ruins; and certainly she did not regard such a thing in the same -way that he did. She felt a little alarmed, of she knew not what, a -hesitation, a doubt. It would feel very strange, she thought--almost -wrong. While there had seemed no other choice, such feelings had never -presented themselves, but now they were strong. It would be very -pleasant, she could not deny, to have his society for some time -longer--with friends and companions about them; but alone, in a remote -place, with the world's eye afar--that eye which acts as a bond but a -safeguard, a restraint but a justification--the matter was very -different. Yet--strange human nature!--when, a moment after, she heard -a blast of a trumpet coming from the road, and a loud voice shouting -forth some orders, it was a relief to her. Perhaps she feared the -parting with Chartley so soon, even more than passing of a night with -him in the old castle. Dear girl, she could not help it. It was no -fault of hers. Nature taught her to cling to that which had protected -her. Nature taught her to love that which came upon her hitherto dull -existence like the first gleam of summer's returning sunshine into the -wintry sky.</p> - -<p class="normal">A moment after, Chartley's step was heard returning; and, running down -the bank, he said:</p> - -<p class="normal">"They are upon the road still, and moreover, preparing to surround the -wood by patrols, probably with the intention of searching it -thoroughly to-morrow. Let us on, sweet Iola, and seek our place of -refuge, for we have no choice left; and they may perchance push some -of their parties along these broader paths to-night. I should not like -to come into collision with them, if I can help it. Here, let me stay -your steps;" and once more he drew her arm through his.</p> - -<p class="normal">"I had hoped," answered Iola--little hypocrite--"that they were all -gone, and that you might be spared farther trouble on my account -to-night."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Trouble!" said Chartley; and he laughed. "I know not what you feel, -dear lady; but I cannot, for my life, think all this night's adventure -so very disastrous. I grieve, of course, that you should be alarmed or -pained in any way; but yet a few hours of such sweet society, the -power of protecting, assisting, supporting you, the linking of -feelings, and sympathies, and associations with yours, even for so -short a space, has something very pleasant in it. Whatever may be our -fate hereafter, Lady Iola, we shall both remember this night, as one -of those high points of time, which raise their heads out of the ocean -of the past, and glitter afar in the light of memory."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I must tell him about myself and my fate," thought Iola; but Chartley -pursued the subject no farther; and turning back upon their steps, -they renewed their ascent towards the castle, winding along amongst -the trees, which were there farther apart and less encumbered by -underwood.</p> - -<p class="normal">How rapidly the wild encroaches upon the cultivated, when the hand of -man is once withdrawn. In former years--not very long before, -certainly not a century--the detached elevation in the wood, on which -the castle stood, had been covered with smooth clean-shaven green -turf, without tree or shrub, which could cover an approaching enemy -from the shafts of the garrison. It had its road winding round it from -the principal gate, and passing, till it approached the edge of the -neighbouring forest, within bow shot of some loop-hole or battlement, -at every turn. Now the trees had grown over the whole mount, as thick -and close as anywhere in the wood--over road and all; and nothing but -a pathway remained, where bands of retainers had formerly ridden up -and down on horseback. The self-sown oaks, indeed, were small and -thin; but there were some enormous ash trees, and large fine elms and -beeches, which no one would have supposed of so late a growth. A great -number of birches--"the ladies of the wood,"--mingled their slight -silvery stems with the sturdier and more lordly forest trees, and the -winged seeds of the ash, wafted to the walls, had planted themselves -here and there, wherever a fallen stone had left a vacant space in the -mortar, and had shot up into feathery shrubs, fringing the ancient -battlements and cresting the tall tower. Thus, in the early summer -time, when leaves are green, the castle at a distance could hardly be -distinguished from the forest.</p> - -<p class="normal">Up the small path I have mentioned, Iola and Chartley took their way, -and at length stood under the old arch of the barbican. One of the -towers which had flanked it had fallen down, and, filling up the -fosse, afforded a firmer path than the drawbridge, which, partly -broken down, I know not whether by age or war, offered but an insecure -footing. One of the long beams indeed, and two or three of the planks, -still hung by the heavy chain used formerly to raise the bridge; but -Iola hesitated, although she had often crossed before, fearing, in the -darkness, to lose her footing on the bridge, or to stumble amongst the -stones, if she chose the path over the fallen tower. Chartley -instantly divined her doubt, and going on part of the way over the -drawbridge, held out his hand, saying: "Let me steady your steps. It -is quite firm."</p> - -<p class="normal">Iola followed at once; and the Arab came after; but when they reached -the great gate, the lady again paused, saying, "It is so dark, I fear -we shall never find our way about the building, without the risk of -some accident, for many of the steps are broken down, and fragments of -the walls encumber the doorways, although some of the rooms in the -keep are almost as if they had been just inhabited. I wonder how long -it is to daybreak."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I have not heard the bell for lauds," replied Chartley, "and -therefore, probably, three or four hours may elapse before we see the -face of day. Perhaps, however, we can contrive to light a fire -somewhere in the court, for the high trees and walls would screen it -from the eyes of the men upon the road."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Let us find our way into the great court first," said Iola. "There is -plenty of dry wood about the place, if we could but find a light."</p> - -<p class="normal">"That will be soon obtained," answered Lord Chartley, "and, perhaps, -something that may serve the purpose of a torch or candle also;" and, -speaking a few words to the Arab, which Iola did not understand, he -led the way forward, stretching out his hands, like a blind man, to -make sure of the path he trod; for, if the night was dark without, the -darkness was doubly deep under the shadow of the arch. After passing -through the gateway, the great court seemed light enough by -comparison. In the centre rose the large keep or donjon tower, -frowning heavily over the scene below; and forth from the side of the -keep came a pile of very ancient buildings, now silent and desolate -like the rest.</p> - -<p class="normal">Chartley and Iola are now alone; for the Arab had left them. But yet -she did not and she would not fear, for she had great confidence in -her companion, and woman's confidence is of a very capacious measure. -Nor did he wrong it--shame upon him who does--but, guiding her quietly -to the flight of steps leading into the keep, he made her sit down -upon the dilapidated stairs, and stood beside her, talking about -subjects which could awake no emotion, or a very slight one, and, -informing her that he had sent the slave to seek for materials to -light a fire. None of those events, however, occurred, which -continually happen to people cast upon a desert island. There were -none of those appliances or means at hand, with which wandering -sailors are usually supplied accidentally. No bituminous pine was -found to fulfil the office of a torch; and at length after the Arab's -return, the only resource of the fugitives was to light a fire, after -the most ancient and approved fashion, by a flint and steel. This, -however, was accomplished with less difficulty than might have been -expected, the young lord's dagger supplying the steel, and flints -being numerous in the neighbourhood. The old brown leaves, and the -young but well-dried shoots, soon caught the flame; and in a few -minutes the joyous light was spreading round the old court yard, and -raising Iola's spirits by the very look.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Ah, now we can rest here in comfort," said, the young lady gazing -around her; "but the light is not yet sufficient to see the inside of -the hall."</p> - -<p class="normal">"But still you cannot sleep here, sweet Iola," answered her companion. -"I and the slave will go in and light a fire in the hall, if you will -tend this in the meanwhile."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Nay," she answered, "I want not to sleep;" and she detained him -gently by the arm. "Let us sit down here. See here is a stone bench -bowered in the ivy. We can pass the night in telling tales; and first -you shall inform me how you came hither on foot in the forest, when I -thought you had gone away for Leicester."</p> - -<p class="normal">Lord Chartley easily satisfied her on that point; and seated on the -stone bench by her side, as near as possible, gazing from time to time -on her bright countenance, by the gleams of the firelight, he related -to her all that had occurred to him since he had left the abbey.</p> - -<p class="normal">"As to my being on foot," he said, "your good friend the woodman -judged it best that I and my Arab should leave our horses at his hut, -for fear of attracting attention. All I hope is, that they will not be -found there by these good gentlemen, who are watching the wood; for it -might be dangerous if they were recognised as my property."</p> - -<p class="normal">"There is a great risk indeed," said Iola anxiously. "What will you do -if such should be the case?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"As best I can," answered Chartley. "I never premeditate, dear lady; -for I always remark that those who go lightly and carelessly through -the world go the farthest. The circumstances of the moment determine -my conduct; and as I have no ties to bind me but those of honour and -truth, no ambitious schemes to be frustrated or executed, no deeds -done that I am ashamed of, so I have never any great store of fears -for the future, nor much need of forming plans at any time for after -action."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Happy are those," answered Iola, with a sigh, "who, as you say, have -no ties to bind them."</p> - -<p class="normal">Her reply was a natural one, springing at once from what was passing -in her own heart. Something had whispered that it would be better to -tell her companion, that her own fate was linked to another, that she -had been contracted in fact in infancy, by her relations, to a person -of whom she knew nothing. The thought of informing him of her fate, -however, led her to think of that fate itself; and thence came the -sigh and the answer that she made. But as soon as it was uttered, she -felt that it rendered more difficult, nay impossible, the task of -telling the circumstances as she had meditated. The words she had just -spoken, the sigh she had just breathed, expressed too clearly the -regret that she really felt; but to explain to him the source of that -regret, to show him the nature of the tie that oppressed her, would, -she thought, be unwomanly and indecent.</p> - -<p class="normal">Her words, however, had not been unmarked; and Chartley, reading them -wrongly, pressed her gaily for explanation.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Nay," he said, "you have no ties to regret. Your good aunt, the -abbess, told me herself, that you are not destined for the life of the -convent. If you do take the veil, it must be from some fancied -resolution of your own heart, against which it is the duty of every -knight and gentleman to war. Fie, fie! Let those who have tasted the -world and found it bitter; let those to whom it has pleased Heaven to -deny beauty, and grace, and mind, and kindly feeling; let those who -have sorrows to mourn, or evil acts to repent, seek the shades of the -convent; but do not bury there charms of person, and mind, and heart, -such as yours, intended by Heaven to be the blessing and the hope and -the comfort of another. I must not, I will not have it."</p> - -<p class="normal">He spoke so eagerly, so warmly, and his eyes looked so bright, that -Iola felt glad the Arab was standing near piling fresh wood upon the -fire. She knew not how to answer; but at length she said, "I am not -destined for a convent; but there may be other ties as binding as the -vow to the veil."</p> - -<p class="normal">"You are not married," exclaimed Chartley, starting; and then he -added, with a laugh--a gladsome laugh, "No, no. You told me yourself -that you had only seen one other young man twice in life besides -myself."</p> - -<p class="normal">"No, not married--" answered Iola, casting down her eyes, and speaking -in a low and sad tone. But her farther reply was interrupted; for the -Arab suddenly lifted his finger with a warning gesture, and said in a -low voice:</p> - -<p class="normal">"Steps come."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Let us into the old hall," said Chartley, rising, and taking a -burning brand from the fire. "This will give us some light at least. -Ibn Ayoub, stay you in the archway till I return. I will come -directly; but let no one pass."</p> - -<p class="normal">The Arab drew a long sharp pointed knife from his girdle, saying; "I -will take care;" and the young lord and Iola hurried, through the -gateway of the keep, into the interior of the building.</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h3>CHAPTER XII.</h3> -<br> - -<p class="normal">In a small, but rich and beautiful, Gothic chamber, splendidly -decorated, and splendidly furnished, sat a gentleman, in the very -prime of life, at a table covered with manifold papers. His dress was -gorgeous; but the eye rested hardly for a moment on the splendour of -his apparel, for there was something in his countenance which at once -fixed all attention upon itself. The features were delicate and -beautiful, the eyes dark, keen, and expressive. The lips were somewhat -thin, and apparently habitually compressed, though when they parted -they showed a row of teeth as white as snow. The long dark brown hair -was of silky fineness and gloss, bending in graceful waves about a -brow broad, high, and majestic, which would have been perfect in form, -had not habit or nature stamped a wrinkled frown upon it, while some -long lines, the traces of deep thought, furrowed the wide expanse -which age had not yet had time to touch. He was in the prime of life, -the early prime, for he had not yet seen three and thirty years, and -not a particle of bodily or mental energy had been lost; but yet his -form did not give any promise of great strength, for he was somewhat -below the middle height, and the limbs seemed small and delicate. One -shoulder was rather higher than the other, but not so much so as to be -a striking deformity; and the left arm seemed somewhat smaller than -its fellow. No means had been taken to conceal these defects; and yet -he might have passed anywhere for an exceedingly good-looking man, had -it not been for a certain expression of fierce and fiery passion which -occasionally came into his countenance, blending strangely with the -look of sarcastic acuteness which it usually bore. It was upon his -face at that moment, as he read a letter before him; but it passed -away speedily, and it was with a bitter smile he said--speaking to -himself, for there was no one else in the room--</p> - -<p class="normal">"Not know? He must be made to know! We will pluck the heart of this -treason out;" and he wrote a few words hastily on the back of the -letter which he had been reading.</p> - -<p class="normal">Then, however, he paused, laid his finger on his temple, and thought -deeply for a minute or two. "No," he said at length, "no! It must be -passed over. If they catch him in the abbey, the lad's fault shall be -passed over. He has served the purposes of a decoy--done good service -without knowing it; and we will not kill the bird that lures the game -to us, though it little thinks that it betrays its fellows--perhaps -imagines it is serving them, not us. I have heard there was friendship -between the bishop and his father; and we must alienate no friends -just now.--Friends!" he continued, with a bitter sneer. "What are -friends? I know but one, whom men can ever count upon; and he dwells -here;" and at the same time he laid his hand significantly on his own -broad forehead.</p> - -<p class="normal">He then took the pen again, and struck out the words he had written on -the paper, pushed it aside, raised another, and, after glancing over -it, clapped his hands, exclaiming--</p> - -<p class="normal">"Without, there!"</p> - -<p class="normal">A servant instantly appeared; and the king, for it was Richard -himself, demanded--</p> - -<p class="normal">"Did you not tell me that this man, John Radnor, had been killed by a -fail from his horse?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Yes, sire," answered the servant, "so the posts say, who brought your -grace the news that the earls of Richmond's fleet had been dispersed. -He was found dead upon the road, but with his purse and papers all -secure, so that they could not be thieves who slew him."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I trust there are few such left in the land," said Richard. "I have -done something already to crush the lawless spirit engendered in this -country by long turbulence and domestic strife; and I will trample out -the last spark ere I have done. By Christ, the name of thief shall be -unknown in the land if I live long enough.--I grieve for this man," he -continued, musing. "He was a serviceable knave, and one to whose -dexterity we could trust instructions somewhat difficult to write, and -yet not make him an ambassador.--Send Sir John Thoresby to me," he -continued, "and as soon as Sir Charles Weinants comes, give him -admission."</p> - -<p class="normal">With a low reverence, the man withdrew; and the king busied himself -with the papers again, till the door opened and a gentleman in black -entered the room.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Let those be answered, Sir John," said the king, pushing some letters -to him, "and take order that lodging and entertainment be prepared at -York for the Princess Countess of Arran. Send off too, by a private -hand, which can be trusted, a letter to the king her brother, greeting -him well from us, and telling him that the secret note, sent with the -letters of the countess, has been received. Bid him set his mind at -ease, for that the matter is very sure, and that, search as she will, -search will be fruitless, so that she can come safely.--Have you seen -the queen?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"I passed her but now, your grace, in the hall," replied the -gentleman; "and she enquired if there were any news from Middleham. -She seemed much alarmed on account of the prince's illness."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Oh, it is nothing, it is nothing," answered the king. "It will soon -pass. Children are well and ill in a day. The next post will bring us -news that he is better; but women are full of fears. Yet it is strange -we have not heard to-day. I will go and see her, while you write -here;" and, with a slow pace and thoughtful air, he quitted the room.</p> - -<p class="normal">At the end of a short corridor, Richard opened a door, which gave him -admission to a large old hall, in one part of which were seated -several young ladies of high family, working busily at embroidery -frames. At one of the tall arched windows, gazing out on the prospect -below, with a look of restless anxiety on her face, stood the fair and -unfortunate daughter of the earl of Warwick, his youngest and his best -beloved, whom, with the prophetic spirit of parental affection, he had -endeavoured in vain to hide from the pursuit of him who never set his -eyes upon an object without sooner or later attaining it. She was -richly dressed, according to the mode of those times; and her slight -figure and her fair face still retained many traces of that delicate -and feminine beauty which had once so highly distinguished them.</p> - -<p class="normal">The instant she heard her husband's step, she turned quickly round -with a timid and inquiring glance; but Richard was in one of his -milder moods. The subject of his thought and hers was one of common -affection; and he advanced tenderly towards her, and took her in his -arms, saying--</p> - -<p class="normal">"I have heard nothing, Ann; but cast these fears from your mind. I -trust that this is nothing but one of those sicknesses of childhood -which come and pass away like spring showers."</p> - -<p class="normal">The tears came into the queen's eyes, rising from very mingled -emotions. Her apprehension for her child, her husband's tenderness, -the feeling perhaps of her own failing health, the recollections of -early years, all moved her heart; and yet she feared that her emotions -might rouse an impatient spirit in Richard's breast.</p> - -<p class="normal">It was not so, however; and, pressing her somewhat closer to him, he -said--</p> - -<p class="normal">"Well, well, wipe away your tears, love. If we hear not better tidings -to-day, thou shalt go to Middleham, and I will go with thee."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Thanks, my gracious lord, thanks," replied the queen. "Perhaps it is -but a weak woman's fears for her only one, that so sink my spirit; but -I feel to-day a sort of awe, as if of approaching fate."</p> - -<p class="normal">"You give way, you give way," said Richard with a slight touch of -impatience. "However, there is good news abroad. This rash exiled earl -of Richmond, whom you have heard of, doubtless, has seen his Breton -ships--which the good doating duke now bitterly regrets he lent -him--dispersed and broken by a heavy tempest; and he himself has slunk -back to St. Maloes; but I have already limed some twigs for this light -bird, which will yet stick to his feet; and he may find conveyance -into England more speedy, though not so prosperous as that which he -has been contriving for himself.--How now, Lovel? You look perilous -grim, as if you and your cognizance had changed countenances."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I grieve to be the bearer of bad tidings, gracious sire," replied -Lord Lovel, to whom these words were addressed, and who had entered -the room the moment before. "I did not know that either of your graces -were here, and was hastening to your closet."</p> - -<p class="normal">"But the news, the news," cried Richard, eagerly. "Heavy tidings grow -doubly weighty by long carrying. Out with them, man. Is there a new -insurrection in the west?--Has Richmond landed?--Speak, speak at -once!"</p> - -<p class="normal">"I had better have your grace's private ear for a few minutes," -replied Lord Lovel, in a low and very sad tone, at the same time -giving a glance towards the queen. Her eyes were fixed upon his face, -and she caught the expression at once.</p> - -<p class="normal">"My boy," she exclaimed. "He is worse. He is hopeless--I see it -there--I see it there;" and she pointed with her hand to his face.</p> - -<p class="normal">Richard gazed at him in profound deathlike silence, with his brow -knitted over his fine keen eyes, and the thin pale lip quivering -fearfully. It was a terrible thing to see the traces of such deep and -unwonted emotion on that powerful and commanding countenance; and -Lovel felt almost afraid to proceed. Richard tried to speak, but, for -the first time in life, his voice found no utterance; and all he could -do was to make a vehement sign for his favourite to go on.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Alas, sire," said Level, in a tone of unfeigned anguish, "your worst -fears are, I grieve to say--"</p> - -<p class="normal">"No, no," cried Richard, in a broken voice, grasping his arm as if he -would have sunk the fingers into the flesh. "No, no, not the -worst--not the worst!--He is very ill, you would say--the physicians -have no hope--but we will find more, wiser, skilfuller! There are -simples of great power--there are--there are--no, not dead, not -dead--no, not dead, not dead!--Oh, Jesu!" and he fell headlong to the -ground.</p> - -<p class="normal">The unhappy queen stood with her hands clasped together, her eyes bent -upon the floor, not a trace of colour in her cheeks or lips. She moved -not, she spoke not, she wept not, she uttered no cry, but remained -standing like a statue where the words had reached her ears with all -the terrible anguish of the moment concentrated in her heart.</p> - -<p class="normal">In the meantime, the embroidery frames were cast away. Her ladies -gathered round her, and drew her gently to her chair of state, in -which they placed her unresisting; but there she remained, precisely -as they had seated her, with her eyes still bent down, and her lips -still motionless. At the same time, Lovel raised the king, and called -loudly for assistance. Attendants hurried in, and amongst them the -messenger from Middleham, who had brought the tidings of the young -prince's death, and had been left at the door by Lord Lovel, when he -undertook to communicate the sad intelligence. But it was long ere -Richard could be brought to himself; and then he sat where they had -placed him, rubbing his brow with his hand, and muttering broken -sentences to himself. At length he looked up, and gazed with a curious -wild expression of countenance--still shrewd, still cunning, but -hardly sane; and then he laughed aloud, and, rising from his chair, -exclaimed:</p> - -<p class="normal">"Why, this is well. Why, this is mighty well! We'll march ten thousand -men on York, to-morrow, and then to Middleham.--We'll have cannon too, -ay, cannon too, lest the usurper should refuse to give up the boy. -Why, he is the son of a king, a prince--a prince, I tell you, Lovel, -the dog--Ha, ha, ha! That was a merry distich--</p> -<div class="poem1"> -<p class="t1">'The cat, the rat, and Lovel, the dog,<br> -Rule all England under the hog.'</p> -</div> -<p class="continue">But we paid the poet handsomely. Kings should be always bountiful to -poets. Good Sir John Collingburn, he little thought that he should be -hanged for the cat, drawn for the rat, and quartered for Lovel the -dog--Ha, ha, ha! It is very good."</p> - -<p class="normal">At that moment, the queen's lips moved; and, raising her eyes towards -heaven, she began to sing a sweet and plaintive air, in a very musical -voice:</p> -<div class="poem1"> - -<p class="t2">"The castle stood on a hill side,</p> -<p class="t2">Hey ho, hey ho,</p> -<p class="t1">And there came frost in the summer tide,</p> -<p class="t2">Hey ho, the wind and the snow.</p> - -<p class="t2">"A boy looked from the casement there,</p> -<p class="t2">Hey ho, hey ho,</p> -<p class="t1">And his face was like an angel's fair;<p> -<p class="t2">Hey ho, how the violets grow.</p> - -<p class="t2">"The snow, it fell on his golden hair,</p> -<p class="t2">Hey ho, hey ho,</p> -<p class="t1">And the wind has blighted the flower so fair,</p> -<p class="t2">Hey ho, the flower's laid low."</p> -</div> - -<p class="continue">"I think I'll go to bed, ladies. It is growing dark; but this night -gear is somewhat stiff and cold, and I think it is dabbled with -blood--Blood, blood, blood! Yes it is blood!" and she uttered a loud -scream.<a name="div4Ref_02" href="#div4_02"><sup>[2]</sup></a></p> - -<p class="normal">In the midst of this distressing scene Lord Lovel stood like one -bewildered; and he noted not that, while the king was speaking, -another person, none of the ordinary attendants had entered the room. -Now, however, Sir Charles Weinants pulled him by the sleeve, saying, -in a low voice: "I ought to speak with the king immediately; but he -seems in no fit state, my lord. What is all this?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Hush, hush," said Lovel, in a whisper. "Go into the closet. I will -come and speak with you, for I have full instructions. The king is -indisposed, with the sad news from Middleham. He will soon be better. -I will join you in a minute. Your business will bear no delay."</p> - -<p class="normal">Thus saying, he turned to the king again; and Sir Charles Weinants, -with a slow and quiet step, crossed the hall, and, proceeding through -the short corridor I have mentioned, reached the king's closet. He -there found Sir John Thoresby, writing diligently; and the latter -merely raised his head for an instant, gave a brief nod, and resumed -his occupation. Sir Charles Weinants, ever discreet, walked to the -window, and looked out; for, as I have before said, there were -manifold papers and letters on the table, and he knew that it was -dangerous even to let the eye pause upon any of Richard's secrets. He -waited there with persevering patience, saying not a word to Sir John -Thoresby, and never turning round his head, till Lovel entered the -room, at the end of about ten minutes, and boldly dismissed the -secretary for a few moments.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Now, Sir Charles," said the king's favourite. "His grace, thank -Heaven, is somewhat better, and will soon be well. We have persuaded -him to let blood; for his spirits are too much oppressed. This is a -severe blow, the death of the young prince, and will make many changes -in the realm. You received the king's letter?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"In safety, my good lord," replied Sir Charles, "but not the letter -which was to have followed, informing me whether the Duke of Bretagne -would receive me on this errand or not."</p> - -<p class="normal">"How is that?" exclaimed Lord Lovel. "We sent it to York, thinking to -find you there;" and he laid his hand upon his brow and thought. -"Ratcliff, in his last letter, received but this morning, assured me -that he had sent it on to you at Tamworth, by a trusty messenger, who -was passing from Scotland to the king. Now it should have reached you -some days ago, for Ratcliff thought we were at Coventry, and his -letter to me has gone round."</p> - -<p class="normal">"It never reached me, my lord," replied Sir Charles Weinants, "and yet -I made known my name and quality wherever I came, and bade my servants -watch well, in order that no news from the court might miss me."</p> - -<p class="normal">"It must be inquired into," replied Level; "but in the mean time you -must hasten your departure; for I have seen the reply from Bretagne, -and you will be received with all favour. Monsieur Landais is fully -gained; and all that is required is some one to confirm the king's -promises, and give an earnest of his goodwill towards the duke. You -must set out this very night. I trust by that time his grace will be -well enough to see you himself and give you his last instructions; for -his is not a mind to bend long, even under the burden cast upon it."</p> - -<p class="normal">These words seemed intended to conclude the conversation; but Sir -Charles Weinants still stayed and mused. At length he looked up in -Lovel's face with a smile, saying, "I always love to be successful in -my negotiations; and methinks this young vapouring earl may take -fright when he hears of my coming. Were it not better to go with the -most perfect secrecy?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Nay, that would be hardly possible," answered Lovel; "but we have -been thoughtful. You must go in some sort as a fugitive. A report has -already been spread that you are suspected by the king. Measures will -be taken to strengthen the belief; and, while you bear full powers as -his envoy, and the money for Landais, you must quit the court suddenly -by dark; and with a small train affect to seek refuge in Britanny. The -news of your disgrace has gone before; but good Monsieur Landais is -made aware of the truth, and prepared to receive you."</p> - -<p class="normal">Sir Charles Weinants was not altogether well pleased with the -arrangement; but he was discreet--very discreet; and he did not think -fit to make any objection. However, he knew there could be no harm in -establishing a claim where none previously existed; for he was well -aware that great men are ever ready enough to deny a claim, whether it -exists or not. He therefore said quietly, "The king's will, of course, -I submit to without a murmur, my good lord; but it is a very -unpleasant sort of reputation for an ambassador to appear with, that -of a fugitive and a traitor; and I trust that his grace will, remember -that I take upon myself such a character solely in obedience to his -commands."</p> - -<p class="normal">"You shalt not be forgotten, Sir Charles," replied Lovel, -entertaining, but not uttering, precisely the same sentiment which was -afterwards boldly propounded by a vast-minded but little-spirited man -namely, that "to submit to indignities is the way to rise to -dignities."</p> - -<p class="normal">"The king never neglects," he said, "those who place themselves in -painful situations for his service. And now, Sir Charles, prepare, -prepare--but quietly; never forgetting that your preparations are to -be those of a fugitive. The ambassador is to come after, you know. -When you have Harry of Richmond firm in your grasp, the splendour of -your train shall efface the memory of its scantiness now. Hark! There -is the king's voice, and his step coming hither. Do not wait or take -any notice. I dare say the barber is here to bleed him."<a name="div4Ref_03" href="#div4_03"><sup>[3]</sup></a></p> - -<p class="normal">The next instant Richard entered the closet, and Sir Charles Weinants -passed him, bowing low and reverently. But the king took no farther -notice of him than merely by giving a slow and inquiring glance, from -under his bent brows, at the face of his envoy; and then seating -himself in a chair, he suffered one of two persons who followed him -into the room to withdraw his arm from his doublet, the -barber-surgeon, who was close behind, directing the valet particularly -to give him the left arm, as that was nearest to the heart. The -servant then held a silver basin, while the operator made his -preparations and opened a vein. During all this time Richard uttered -not a word, but sat with his brows contracted, and his dark thoughtful -eyes fixed upon vacancy, till the sombre red bleed began to flow forth -from the vein; and then he turned his look upon the stream, and seemed -to watch it curiously. At length, he lifted his right hand to his -head, saying, "I am better--open the window. Give me air;" and the -servant instantly hurried to obey his commands. The barber suffered -the blood still to flow on, for a little while, and then bound up the -king's arm.</p> - -<p class="normal">"I am better," said Richard. "I am better;" and, stretching forth his -hands, he added, in an imperative tone. "Leave me--all leave me! I am -better--I would be alone."</p> - -<p class="normal">The whole party hastened to obey, and, as soon as they were gone, -Richard, the iron-spirited relentless Richard, placed his hands before -his eyes, and wept. It is a terrible sight to see a man weep at any -time. What must it have been to see tears forced from such a heart as -Richard's!</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h3>CHAPTER XIII.</h3> -<br> - -<p class="normal">Let us take up the history of the woodman, after he and the bishop of -Ely had quitted Lord Chartley. They crossed rapidly over the road, -hearing the sound of horses advancing, and of men speaking, as they -did so. Neither uttered a word; and the prelate was hastily directing -his steps towards a spot where, by the dim light, he saw what seemed a -continuation of the path he had just quitted, but the woodman seized -his arm, and drew him on a little way up the road to a place where the -bushes seemed so thick as to afford no passage through them. Putting -aside the branches, however, with his sturdy arm, Boyd dragged rather -than led Morton forward; and, for some way, the good bishop fancied -that they should never find a path again, so thick and difficult -seemed the copse. It extended not fifty yards, however; and, though -somewhat scratched by the brambles, which clung round his feet and -legs at every step, Morton, at length, found himself emerging into an -open part of the wood, where the ground was covered with thick fern, -out of which, every here and there, rose an old hawthorn or the bushy -shoots of an oak or beech felled long ago.</p> - -<p class="normal">"'Tis a rough road," said the woodman, in a low voice, as he relaxed -his hold of the prelate's arm.</p> - -<p class="normal">"So are all the ways of life, my son," answered the bishop.</p> - -<p class="normal">"And the roughest often the safest," answered Boyd. "I know it by -experience. Smooth paths end in precipices."</p> - -<p class="normal">At that instant something started up before them out of the fern, and -a quick rush was heard through the neighbouring brushwood. The bishop -started, and drew a little back, but Boyd said with a laugh,--</p> - -<p class="normal">"'Tis but a doe, my lord. If she find her way amongst the soldiers, -there will be more chases than one to-night. Fear not, however. I -will answer for your safety, though not for hers."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I do not fear," answered the prelate. "Indeed, I am little given to -fear; but, as you doubtless well know, my son, the mind has not always -that command over the body which can prevent the mere animal impulse -from starting at dangers, which calm consideration could meet -unshrinking."</p> - -<p class="normal">"True," replied the woodman. "So long as life is happy it may be so; -but with the loss of all that makes existence valuable, the body -itself loses its sensibility to all signs of danger. Hope, dread, -anxiety, and the struggle with the ills of life, make us vibrate as it -were to the touch of all external things; but when hope and fear are -dead, when there is neither care nor thought of existence, 'tis -wonderful how this blind horse of the body, ridden by that plodding -wayfarer, the mind, learns to jog on, without starting at anything -that glistens on the way.--But come on, my good lord, for I must take -you first to my cottage, and then send you forward some miles upon -your journey."</p> - -<p class="normal">Thus saying, he walked forward; and the good bishop followed through -the more open space, musing as he went; for, to say the truth, he was -pulled different ways by different inclinations. Self-preservation, -was, of course, one great object, and that led him to desire immediate -escape; but yet there was another object, which he had much at heart, -and which would have bound him to remain. Nor was he a man who would -suffer the consideration of personal safety alone to make him abandon -what he considered a duty; but, as yet, he knew not fully what were -the risks, and what the probabilities; and, as the only means of -obtaining information, he, at length, after some consideration, -determined to have recourse to the woodman. Boyd was striding on, -however; and it cost the prelate two or three quick steps to overtake -him, so as to be able to speak in that low tone which he judged -necessary in the existing circumstances.</p> - -<p class="normal">"You think you can insure my safety," he said.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Beyond a doubt," replied the woodman, laconically.</p> - -<p class="normal">"But only, I suppose, by instant flight," said the prelate.</p> - -<p class="normal">"By flight before daylight," replied Boyd.</p> - -<p class="normal">"But if I tell you," continued the bishop, "that it is absolutely -necessary, for a great purpose I have in view, that I should remain in -this immediate neighbourhood for some few days, do you think it -possible for me to lie concealed here, till I receive the intelligence -I am seeking? Remember, I do not heed a little risk, so that my object -be attained."</p> - -<p class="normal">"That is brave," answered Boyd; "but yet 'tis difficult to weigh -nicely in the balance, for another man, the estimation of his own -life. If I knew what you sought, I could judge better. However, I will -say this: the risk were very great to stay, but yet such as any one of -courage would encounter for a great and noble object."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Then I will stay," replied the bishop, firmly. "My object is a great -and, I believe, a just and holy one, and life must not be weighed in -the balance against it."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Would that I knew what it is," said the woodman, "for methinks I -might show you that more may be gained by going than by staying. Of -that, however, anon. Let me see if I can divine your object."</p> - -<p class="normal">The bishop shook his head, saying--</p> - -<p class="normal">"That is not possible. You are keen and shrewd, I see; but this you -could not discover by any means, without information from others."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I may have more information than you fancy," answered Boyd; "but at -all events you must tell me fairly if I am right. You were once -esteemed and promoted by Harry the Sixth. The house of Lancaster gave -your first patrons."</p> - -<p class="normal">The bishop winced a little--</p> - -<p class="normal">"True," he said, "true!"</p> - -<p class="normal">"The house of Lancaster fell," continued the woodman; "and, after the -king's death, you continued in office under the opposite faction--I do -not blame you, for the cause seemed hopeless."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Nay, but hear me," said the bishop, in a louder tone than he had -hitherto used. "You speak somewhat authoritatively; and I must -explain."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I speak plain truth," replied the woodman. "At this hour of the -night, and under these grey boughs, we are upon a par. Elsewhere, it -is, Morton, Lord Bishop of Ely, and Boyd the woodman. But I have said, -I blame you not. What need of explanations?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Yes, there is need," answered the bishop. "I had my motive for doing -as I have done, and that motive sufficient for my own conscience. As -you say, the cause of Lancaster had fallen, and hopelessly fallen. All -efforts in its favour could but produce more bloodshed, and protract a -desolating civil strife. By yielding to the conqueror, by giving him -the counsel of a christian man, not unversed in affairs of state, I -did believe--I do believe, that I could, and did, do more good than if -I had withdrawn from the counsels of the ruler of the country, and -joined with those who sought to throw him from his seat. I never -advised in those affairs where York and Lancaster opposed each other. -It was part of my compact with him, that I should take no share in -acts or councils against a family I once had served. Yet in my humble -way I could do good, in moderating the fury of men's passions, and the -rancour of party strife."</p> - -<p class="normal">"You plead, my lord, to an indictment I have never laid," replied the -woodman. "I blame you not. I never thought of blaming you. But hear me -on! You became attached to a prince who favoured you greatly--a man of -many high qualities, and also of many great vices; brave, courteous, -graceful, and good-humoured; lewd, idle, insincere, and cruel; a -consummate general, a short-seeing statesman, a bad king, a heartless -kinsman, a man of pleasant converse, and a devoted friend. You loved -him well; you loved his children better, and would not consent to -their murder."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Nay, nay, not their murder," cried the bishop; "no one ever ventured -to speak of their death. Even now, we know not that they are really -dead; but I believe it. If you had said, I would not be consenting to -their deprivation of their rights, you had been justified."</p> - -<p class="normal">"'Tis the same thing," answered the woodman; "deposed princes live not -long, where they have many friends in the realm they lose. However, -committed to the Tower, and then to the custody of Buckingham, you -found means to make of your jailor your friend, choosing dexterously a -moment of disappointment to turn him to your purposes. I speak now -only from hearsay; but, I am told, you two together framed a scheme -for choosing a new king from the race you first served, and uniting -him to the heiress of your second lord. It was a glorious and -well-devised plan, worthy of a great statesman--ay, and of a christian -prelate; for thereby you might hope to end for ever a strife which has -desolated England for half a century--but rash Buckingham lost all at -the first attempt. The scheme still lives however, I am told, though -one of the great schemers is no more. The other walks here beside me, -returned in secret to his native land, after a brief exile, and the -question is, for what? Money, perhaps, or arms, or friends, I may be -told. Yet he would linger still for some intelligence, even when his -life is staked! Has he heard of machinations going on in Britanny, for -the overthrow of all his plans, by the betrayal of him on whom their -success depends? Has he heard of secret negotiations between the -usurper and a feeble duke or his mercenary minister? Does he wish to -obtain the certainty of such things? and is he willing to stake his -life upon the chance of discovering the truth?"</p> - -<p class="normal">He paused as if for an answer; and the bishop, who had been buried in -deep thought--considering less the questions put and the tale told, -for all that was speedily digested, than the character of his -companion--replied at once--</p> - -<p class="normal">"You are an extraordinary man, sir, and must speak from something more -sure than a mere guess."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Assuredly," replied the woodman, "I speak from calculation. He who, -in the calm retirement of a lowly station, removed afar from his -fellow men, has still a fair view of the deeds they do, can often, by -seeing things hidden from the eyes of those who are near the scene of -action, judge of the motives and the result, which the one part of -those engaged do not know, and the other do not perceive. I once stood -upon a high hill, while a battle raged at my feet, and could I have -directed, with the prospect of the whole before me, I could have made -either army win the field; for I saw what neither saw, and understood -what neither understood. Thus is it with a man who stands afar from -the troublous strife of human life, with his eye above the passions, -the prejudices, and the vanities which more or less interrupt each -man's vision on the wide plain of the world where the combat is going -on. But yet you have not answered my question. Have I divined rightly -or not?"</p> - -<p class="normal">The bishop paused for another instant, and then replied--</p> - -<p class="normal">"Why should I not speak? My life is in your hand. I can trust no -greater thing than I have trusted. You are right. I have heard of -these machinations; and I have laid my plans for frustrating them, or -at least discovering them. My faithful servant, companion, and friend, -who has accompanied me in all my wanderings, has gone on with Sir -Charles Weinants even now; for that is the man who has been entrusted -with many a secret negotiation between England and Britanny. He, my -servant, will return in disguise to seek me at the abbey; and, if I -should go before he arrives, I carry no definite information with me."</p> - -<p class="normal">"You must go before he arrives," replied the woodman, "or 'tis likely -you will not go at all; but you shall not go bootless.--Now let us be -silent and cautious, for we are coming near more dangerous ground."</p> - -<p class="normal">The hint was not lost upon the bishop, who, though bold and resolute, -as I have shown, did not think it necessary to sport with life as a -thing of no value. While this conversation had been taking place, they -had traversed that more open space of forest ground, which has been -mentioned, and were approaching a thicker copse, where sturdy -underwood filled all the spaces between the larger trees. It seemed to -the bishop, in the dimness of the night, that there would be no -possibility of penetrating the vast mass of tangled thicket which rose -sweeping up the side of the hill before his eyes; but still the -woodman bent his step straight towards it, till at length he paused at -a spot where there seemed no possible entrance.</p> - -<p class="normal">"We are now coming near one of the wider roads of the wood," he said, -in a whisper; "and the little path by which I will lead you runs -within a hundred yards of it, for more than a mile. We must therefore -keep silent, and even let our footfalls be light."</p> - -<p class="normal">"If we have to force our way through all this brushwood," answered the -bishop in the same tone, "the noise will instantly betray the way we -take."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Fear not," replied Boyd, "only follow me close and steadily. Leaders -make bad followers, I know; but it must be so just now."</p> - -<p class="normal">Thus saying, he pushed aside some of the young ash trees, and held -them back with his strong arm, while the bishop came after. Three -steps were sufficient to bring them, through the thick screen, to the -end of a small path, not above three feet in width, but perfectly -clear and open. It was drawn in a line as straight as a bowstring, and -had probably been formed for the purposes of the chase; for arrow or -bolt sent along it could not fail to hit any object of large size, -such as a stag or fallow deer, at any point within shot. The bishop, -it is true, could not see all this, for the boughs were thick -overhead, though cleared away at the sides; and he followed slowly and -cautiously upon the woodman's steps, setting down his feet with that -sort of timid doubt which every one feels more or less when plunged in -utter darkness.</p> - -<p class="normal">Steadily and quietly the woodman walked on, seeming to see his way as -well in the deep night as he could have done in the full day; and at -length, after having proceeded, for what seemed to his companion much -more than one mile, he again stopped, where the path abruptly -terminated in another thicket. As no sign would have been effectual to -convey his meaning, in the profound darkness which reigned around, the -woodman was fain to whisper to his companion, to remain for a moment -where he stood, while an examination was made to ascertain whether the -great road was clear. He then forced his way forward through the -boughs; and a moment after the bishop heard the whining of a dog, -followed by the voice of the woodman, saying, "Down, Ban, down. Seek, -boy, seek. Is there a strange foot?"</p> - -<p class="normal">A short interval elapsed; and then was heard the sound of a low growl, -very close to the spot where the prelate himself was stationed.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Nay, that is a friend," said the woodman, in a low tone. "Come in, -Ban! To heel, good dog."</p> - -<p class="normal">The sound of the stout and stalwart form of his companion, pushing its -way once more through the brushwood, was then heard; and Boyd again -stood by the good prelate's side.</p> - -<p class="normal">"All is safe," he said; "and now you must force your way forward, at -the risk of tearing your gown. But never mind that, for you must not -travel in this attire;" and he led the way on.</p> - -<p class="normal">After a struggle of some difficulty with the brambles and thin shoots -of the ash which formed the copse, the bishop found himself in the -midst of a small open space, with the road running across it, and the -woodman's cottage on the other side. The door was open; and a faint -glare, as from a half-extinguished fire, came forth into the air, -showing the tall sinewy form of the woodman, and the gaunt outline of -his gigantic hound. The cottage soon received the whole party; and, -closing and barring the door, Boyd pointed to the threshold, saying to -the dog, "Down, Ban! Watch!" and immediately the obedient animal laid -himself across the door way, and remained with his head raised, his -ears erect, and his muzzle turned towards the entrance, as if -listening for the sound of approaching footsteps.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Now, reverend father and good lord," said Boyd, "we must not daily. -You must throw away that gown, and put on this common waggoner's -frock. You must cover the tonsure with this peasant's bonnet, and take -part in driving a load of wood a stage on the way to Litchfield. You -will be met with by those who will see you safely to the coast; -and you will have one with you who will in reality perform the -office--unworthy of your profession and name--which you must seem to -fulfil only for the sake of security. I will bring you the garments in -a moment; but first," he continued, "let me place in your hands this -letter, which you must conceal with the greatest care, and contrive to -convey it to the earl of Richmond. How it fell into my hands matters -not; but, if you run your eye over it, you will see that it contains -all the information for which you were inclined to wait.--Stay, I will -give you a light;" and, stirring the fire into a blaze, he lighted a -lamp at the flame.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Ha, from Landais, himself," exclaimed the bishop, as he read the -letter, "with a promise to arrest the earl and all his companions, as -soon as Richard's ambassador has arrived, and the money is paid!--The -money is paid! What may that mean?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Can you not divine, good father?" asked the woodman. "In this good -world of ours, there is a price for everything. We are all merchants, -traders with what we make, or with what we possess. One man sells his -barony, another his honour, another his conscience, another his soul. -One acquires for himself power and sells the use of it, another gains -a reputation and trades on that, as others do on learning or on skill. -There is a difference of prices too; and the coin in which men require -payment is various. A kingly crown is the price which some demand; a -high office the price of others. The crosier or the triple crown is -one man's price; the smile of a fair lady is another's; the sordid -soul requires mere money; and this Landais, this Breton peasant, risen -to be the minister and ruler of his imbecile prince, sells the duke's -honour and his own for hard gold, Ha, ha, ha! He is quite right; for, -of all the things which go to purchase such commodities, gold is the -only solid permanent possession. What is honour, fame, power, or even -woman's smile, but the empty, transitory, visionary deceit of an hour. -Gold, gold, my lord bishop, untarnishable, persisting, ever-valuable -gold is the only proper payment, when honesty, honour, feeling, and -character are to be sold--Upon my life, I think so!--But there is the -letter. Let the duke have it; show him the toils that are around him; -and bid him break through before they close upon him."</p> - -<p class="normal">"This is important, indeed," said the bishop, who had been reading the -letter attentively; "and it shall be in the hands of the earl as soon -as it be possible to deliver it. One question, however, let me ask -you. Who, shall I tell the earl, has procured and sent to him this -most valuable information? for I do not affect to believe that you are -that which you seem to be."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Nothing is what it seems to be," replied the woodman; "no, nothing in -this world. It is a place of unreal things; but yet you might have -satisfied yourself at the abbey, that Boyd the woodman is a faithful -servant of the good abbess and nuns of St. Clare, and has been so long -enough for them to have great confidence in him. However," he -continued, in a somewhat changed tone, "tell the earl of Richmond, you -have had it from a man who may ask his reward hereafter; for we are -all mercenary. That reward shall neither be in gold, nor estates, nor -honours, nor titles; but, when the struggle before him is -accomplished, and he is successful, as he will be, then perchance Boyd -the woodman may ask a boon; and it shall be but one.--Now I bring you -your disguise;" and, passing through the door in the back of the room, -he disappeared for a moment or two, and then returned, loaded with -various pieces of apparel. The bishop smiled as he put them on; and -the transformation was certainly most complete, as the frock of the -carter was substituted for that of the monk, and the peasant's bonnet -took the place of the cowl.</p> - -<p class="normal">"We must get rid of your sandals, my lord," said the woodman; "and -that is the most difficult part of the matter; for my foot is well -nigh twice as large as yours, so that my boots will fit but ill."</p> - -<p class="normal">"We will manage it," answered the bishop, "for I will thrust my feet -in, sandals and all, and that will fill them up."</p> - -<p class="normal">The woodman laughed; but the plan seemed a good one, and was adopted.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Here is a little Venice mirror," said the woodman. "Now look at -yourself, my good lord. I will not ask, if your best friend would know -you, for dear friends always forget; but would your bitterest enemy -recognise you, though hatred has so long a memory?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"I do not think he would," answered the bishop, smiling at his own -appearance; "but yet I fear, if we should be met in the wood by any of -these people, and detained, they may discover me by the tonsure."</p> - -<p class="normal">"We will not be met," answered Boyd. "Now, follow me; but first stick -this axe into your girdle, which may serve, both as an ensign of your -new trade, and a means of defence."</p> - -<p class="normal">The woodman then led his companion through the door in the back of the -room into another large chamber behind. Thence, after locking the -door, he took his way through a shed, half filled with piles of -firewood; and then, proceeding through an orchard, surrounded on three -sides by the forest, he entered a little garden of pot-herbs, at the -farther end of which was a fence of rough-hewn oak.</p> - -<p class="normal">On approaching the paling, the bishop found himself standing on the -edge of a very steep bank, at the bottom of which he could catch the -glistening of a stream; and, after a warning to take good heed to his -footing, the woodman led him down a flight of steep steps, cut in the -bank, to a small path, which ran along by the side of the water. The -dell, which the stream had apparently channelled for itself, and which -was flanked by woody banks, varying from twenty to forty feet in -height, extended for nearly a mile through the wood, and at length -issued forth from the forest screen, at the edge of a rich and -well-cultivated tract of country.</p> - -<p class="normal">At this spot there was a bridge, over which ran one of the roads from -the abbey; but the little path, which the woodman and his companion -were following, passed under the bridge by the side of the river; and -Boyd continued to pursue it for two or three hundred yards farther. He -then ascended the bank, which had by this time become low and sloping, -and took his way across a field to the right, so as to join the road -at some distance from the bridge. A few yards in advance was seen a -lantern, and a wood-cart with its team of horses, and two men standing -by its side. To one of these the woodman spoke for a few moments in a -low voice; and then, turning to the other, he said, "You understand -your orders, David. Here is the man who is to go with you--Now, my -lord," he continued, in a whisper; "you had better get up on the front -of the waggon. I must here leave you; for I have the security of some -others to provide for."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I trust my fair guide from the abbey has met with no peril on her -return," said the bishop in a whisper. "It would be bitter to me -indeed if any evil befel her in consequence of her charity towards -me."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I trust not," said the woodman; "but yet I now find she could not -return to the abbey, and has taken refuge elsewhere. There were eyes -watching her she knew not of, and help at hand in case she needed it. -But I must go and provide for all this; for a fair girl like that -ought not to be trusted too long with a gay young lord. He seems a -good youth, 'tis true, though wild and rash enough."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Oh, he may be fully trusted," replied the prelate. "I will be his -sponsor, for he was brought up under my own eye, and I know every turn -of his mind. His rashness is but manner, and his light gaiety but the -sparkling of a spirit which has no dark thought or memory to make it -gloomy. If he is with her, she is safe enough; for he would neither -wrong her nor see her wronged."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Nevertheless, I must see to the safety of both," replied the woodman; -"so now farewell, and peace attend you--Stay, let me help you up."</p> - -<p class="normal">Thus saying, he aided the bishop to mount upon the front of the cart; -and at a crack of the waggoner's whip the team moved slowly on.</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h3>CHAPTER XIV.</h3> -<br> - -<p class="normal">The lighted brand which Chartley carried in his hand hardly remained -unextinguished till he and Iola had passed through the deep gateway -into the large hall; but there they found much more light than they -had expected, for the fire in the court-yard threw a broad glare over -the two large windows, and served, in some degree, to illuminate the -interior. It was one of those vast old halls, of which but few are now -remaining, though at that time no great baronial residence was without -one of them. Some indeed were of greater extent than the one I now -speak of; but few, if any, had a bolder sweep of arch than was -displayed by the vaulted roof which now covered the young nobleman and -his companion. Time had spared it; and ruin had not as yet laid any -hand upon it, so that the eye could roam through the framework of -richly carved oaken beams above, without detecting any flaw in the -slating which overspread the whole. No columns or obstructions of any -kind interrupted the sight from one end to the other; and, by the -flickering of the fire-light, Chartley could perceive two doors -opening out of the opposite end of the hall, one upon the right hand -and another upon the left. To the door upon the right, two or three -stone steps led up from the pavement; and he inquired at once, -remembering that Iola had boasted a thorough knowledge of the -building, if she could tell him whither that entrance led.</p> - -<p class="normal">"To the great square tower," she replied, "by a staircase in the -little turret that you might see at the side of the keep. It is very -narrow, but quite good and perfect still."</p> - -<p class="normal">"If the door be still there and sound," replied Chartley, "it will be -as good a place of refuge as any; for the mouth of a narrow staircase -is no bad spot for defence."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I think the door is there," replied Iola; "but we can soon see."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Thanks to the fire without, we can, sweet Iola," replied Chartley, -walking forward by her side; but, as he did so, his foot struck -against something lying on the pavement, which he sent rattling to the -other side of the hall. "Why, what is here?" he exclaimed, stooping -down. "Some one has been lighting a fire here, not very long ago. And -on my life here is a lamp too, seemingly not very long extinguished; -at all events, there is oil in it."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Oh yes, it is long ago," answered Iola, "as long ago as Christmas. I -remember all about it now. The nuns come up here every year, on the -morrow of Christmas, for there is still a mass kept up once a-year in -the chapel; and, the last time, sister Bridget left her lamp behind -her, which she brought to light the tapers on the altar. It may now -serve us in good stead; and I do not see why we should not light a -fire here too; for they do so every Christmas day, and heat a flagon -of Malvoisie, for the priest who says the mass."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Would to Heaven we had a flagon of Malvoisie to heat," replied Lord -Chartley, laughing. "I know few things better, on a cold night or in a -doubtful hour. Strange, sweet Iola, that so spiritual a thing as hope -should go up and down, burn more faintly or more brightly, for the -want or the possession of a few drops of grape juice."</p> - -<p class="normal">"It may be so with men," answered Iola; "but I do not think it is so -with women. Hope with me never burns brighter than in a fine clear -summer morning, when I hear the birds sing. There seems, in the sweet -sounds and in the sweet sights, a world of promises from a voice that -never lies."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Oh yes, but Malvoisie is good too," answered Chartley gaily, -"especially when summer mornings are not here, when no sweet bird -gives music, unless it be the hooting owl; and even Iola's eyes do not -afford light enough to show one this great thick door, the hinges of -which seem somewhat rusty."</p> - -<p class="normal">As he thus spoke, with his foot upon the second step, he swung the -heavy door backwards and forwards, with a grating sound, which seemed, -to make the old hall shake.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Come," he continued, "I will go light sister Bridget's lamp at the -fire, and see what good Ibn Ayoub is about. His watch has been -undisturbed, or we should have had his Arabic gutturals finding their -way into the hall, and echoing round and round as harshly as this -rusty hinge. You shall stay near the other door, till I return; but -mind, if there should be anything like a fray, you run up here and -shut yourself in. I am bound by knightly courtesy to take you back to -the abbey safe and sound; and so if I am killed you must take the task -upon yourself, in justice to my reputation."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Killed! Oh do not talk of such a thing!" exclaimed Iola. "I beseech -you, my noble lord, think not of risking life in such a case."</p> - -<p class="normal">"To protect and serve you," answered Chartley, "I would risk more than -life, sweet girl, if I had any thing more than life to lose. A man's -life is worth very little in these days; for there is so little -certainty of its continuing from one hour to another, that, good -faith, I am fain to shake my head every morning when I rise, to see -that it is upon my shoulders. Buckingham and Hastings, Vaughan, Grey, -and others, besides some hundreds more, would have done better to have -died in the field, or in defence of some fair lady, than to have -waited for the headsman's axe. I trust, whenever my hour comes, that -it will find me sword in hand. It is the only way I ever could make up -my mind to look upon death complacently. I suppose I am a sad coward, -for the thought of a sick bed, and feverish pillow, and lamentable -friends, and the grave doctor with a potion in his hand, frightens me -immensely. Nor is the axe much better for it usually has its dull -antecedents of trial, condemnation, gaping fools, and blocks and -scaffolds; whereas, on the battle field, or in the lists, lance to -lance, for a lady's honour, with stroke for stroke, and clanging -trumpets, and charging horse, and shouts of victory, the spirit -springs forth triumphant through the wounds of the flesh, and soars -away to glory, with the light of renown upon its wings."</p> - -<p class="normal">Iola sighed, she knew not why; but still the enthusiasm touched her, -and she felt a thrill run through her veins at his high words, which -made her almost fearful of the sensations which were creeping over her -heart.</p> - -<p class="normal">"You do not make me brave," she said; "and therefore I will come with -you under the arch, for I shall feel frightened if I lose sight of -you."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Oh, I will willingly live ever in your eyes," answered Chartley; "and -he who reaches you must first pass over my corpse."</p> - -<p class="normal">Iola started; for it is not to be supposed that, in that age, she, or -any one, was without superstition; and she read a sort of double sense -in his words, which seemed to her almost to have the force of -prophecy. She followed him closely, however, and only paused when she -again got sight of the court-yard, with the Arab still standing quietly -by the fire, upon which he had piled some more wood.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Has no one come?" demanded Chartley. "Have you heard the steps -again?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"I have heard the steps," answered the Arab; "but no one has come. -They seem to wander round and round the court; but the eye sees not -the walker. 'Tis most likely an Afrit, watching this old castle. There -may be treasures buried here."</p> - -<p class="normal">"There is a treasure hidden here," replied the young nobleman, -speaking to himself but thinking of Iola. "As to Afrits, they never -cross the sea. However, good Ibn Ayoub, as we have not men enough in -the garrison to man all the walls or guard all the gates, we will -withdraw into the great hall, light our fire there, and close the -door, though we cannot drop the portcullis. Bring as much of the -embers in as you can contrive to carry, without burning your garments, -and a quantity of wood, of which there seems a great store there in -the corner."</p> - -<p class="normal">"'Tis an old gate broken to pieces," said the Arab. "'Twill soon burn, -for it is as dry as camel's dung."</p> - -<p class="normal">Chartley waited and listened, while his slave performed the task he -had set him about; and then returning to Iola, after he had lighted -the lamp, he said--</p> - -<p class="normal">"I can hear no sound. It was good Ibn Ayoub's fancy, I suppose, though -his ears are as sharp as those of a page in a fairy tale. He traced me -through the forest to-night, by the sound of my horse's feet, as -surely as a hound traces the deer by the scent.--Nay, cheer up, sweet -Iola, or we shall both grow sad and fanciful in this old pile. What -though we have no Malvoisie, there is better wine than ever flowed -from the grape, or was imprisoned in a bottle--the wine of the heart, -dear lady, of the heart unconscious of evil, the bright gay spirit, -the cheerful contentment with the event of the hour, the fearless -trust of the morrow. 'Tis but a little time weaken be together. Let us -make the moments pleasant as they fly; for to me they will fly all too -soon. Come, let us look round the hall, and see what it contains;" and -he held the lamp high up above his head, gazing round, but unable to -see the whole of the vast extent of the chamber.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Oh, there is nothing here," answered Iola. "It has been stripped of -every thing, long, long ago. But there are some things in the chambers -above, which the plunderers did not think it worth while to bring -down, I suppose--settles and stools, and a huge bed, which they say -was made in the room where it stands, and cannot pass the door."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Come, we will go and see them," cried Chartley. "Sitting on these -cold stones is not made for those delicate limbs; and perchance we may -find something which we can bring down. But first let the Arab light -the fire here; and then we will try and close the great door."</p> - -<p class="normal">No great difficulty occurred in either process; for the Arab -contrived, on two broad pieces of wood, to bring in a sufficient -quantity of embers speedily to kindle a large fire on the wide hearth -of the old hall, and the ponderous door, though it had one or two -large holes in it, and groaned most desperately at being forced to -turn upon its hinges--a process which it probably had not undergone -for more than half a century--nevertheless swung to easily enough, and -the heavy bolt was forced into the deep hole made for its reception in -the stone-work.</p> - -<p class="normal">When the young lord turned round, after aiding the Arab in this work, -the aspect that the hall presented was cheerful enough. The pile of -wood on the hearth had caught fire at once; and, mingled with the -smoke which was rushing up the wide chimney, were thick columns of -many coloured flame, which cast a warm and flickering glow over the -ancient stone walls and upon the painted glass of the windows, where -knights, and priests, and angels, and apostles, were grouped in -somewhat strange confusion. In the bright blaze of the fire, on the -opposite side of the hearth, stood the fair form of Iola, wrapped -indeed in the earl's surcoat, which veiled, without altogether -concealing, the beautiful outline of the figure. The long sable-lined -sleeves, trailing upon the ground, seemed to form a sort of train -behind her as she stood, while the beautiful neck and shoulders rose -from the furred collar, lightly fastened over her chest, and the fair -and speaking countenance, turned towards those who were closing the -door, was now shown in bright light, now cast into shadowy -indistinctness as the flame rose and fell.</p> - -<p class="normal">Chartley gazed at her, and thought it was the fairest sight he had -ever seen; and sensations rose up in his breast, which he took no -pains to master. He was young, free, trustful, full of happy -confidence in the future, and he said to himself--"Why not? Roam the -world over, can I find anything more lovely than she <i>is</i>, more -gentle, more sweet, more full of noble feelings and bright thoughts, -than she <i>seems</i>. In marriage one always cuts one's fate upon a die, -the fall of which is uncertain,--Why not?--But not now, not now," he -continued, the spirit of gentlemanly courtesy coming to guide him -instantly; "I must wait till she is free from danger, and then seek -her when she is safe and in the midst of her friends again. I must not -agitate or alarm her now."</p> - -<p class="normal">Though the resolution was a strong one, as well as a good one, it was -difficult to keep the feelings which were busy at his heart from -influencing his manner in some degree. Nor, to say truth, did he keep -them in such subjection. He would have liked very much to make her sit -beside him, and, with his arm cast around her, pillow her beautiful -head upon his bosom, while she took the repose so needful to her. He -would have liked to stand before that open hearth, with her hand -clasped in his, and their eyes fixed upon the faces and landscapes in -the fire, talking of love and dreaming of happy days. He did none of -these things; but yet there was a softness and a tenderness in his -manner and his tone, every now and then, which went thrilling through -Iola's young fresh heart, and creating dreads for herself and for him, -which might have shaken her terribly, had it not been for the gay and -sparkling spirit which broke forth in his conversation from time to -time, and carried away all heavier thoughts upon its wings.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Now come," he said, taking up the lamp after he had paused by her -side for a moment, "let us go up to these chambers above, and see if -we can find some seat or another, that we can bring down. You have -been walking and standing a long long while; and those beautiful -little feet will be sadly tired, unless we can discover some means of -resting them. I would rather walk a hundred miles than stand an hour. -I have always thought that a bird's life must be a sad wearisome one, -except when it is on the wing, to stand all day on a bare bough with -those thin shanks of its, and nothing to do but trim its feathers."</p> - -<p class="normal">"And sing its songs," said Iola, following him. "It must have its -consolation there."</p> - -<p class="normal">Chartley went first, lighting her by the way; and the stairs, narrow -and worn with many feet, soon afforded a fair excuse for taking her -hand to lead her up. When once it was in his, it was not easy to part -with it; and, as he held it neither very loosely nor very tightly, -there seemed no plea for withdrawing it, so that it remained where it -was, even after they had reached the top of the stairs, and had -entered a low-roofed stone corridor, and a large old-fashioned vaulted -chamber, which had probably been the state bedroom of the former -possessors of the castle. There, still, remained the great bedstead -which Iola had mentioned, probably of the reign of Edward III., formed -of dark black wood, apparently ebony, richly carved and inlaid with -ivory upon the lower cornices. The rich hangings, with which it had -been at one time adorned, had all been torn down and carried off with -the bedding; but the framework was so artificially joined, that no -means of removing it were apparent, without breaking it all to pieces; -and it is probable that the rude soldiers, who had sacked the castle, -were not disposed to burden themselves with any heavy booty. Marks on -the floor showed where three truckle beds had stood, but not one now -remained; and the only seat to be seen was a large chair, of the same -materials as the bed, with a footstool, from which the embroidery that -once covered it had been ripped.</p> - -<p class="normal">"These will do," cried Chartley. "The chair must have come up, and so -it can go down the stairs. Then we will set it by the fire; and it -shall be your throne, queen of the May, while I sit on the footstool -at your feet, and Ibn Ayoub crouches, as is his wont, upon the dry -hearth. But you must be my lamp-bearer, or I shall never get them -down;" and; giving the light to Iola, he raised the chair in his -strong arms. "It is as heavy as iron," he said, "but it shall come -down, if it were made of adamant."</p> - -<p class="normal">As he spoke, an extraordinary sort of sound, like a low groan, echoed -through the room, so clear and distinct, that there could be no doubt -their ears deceived them not. Iola started, and well, nigh dropped the -lamp, while Chartley set down the chair, and laid his hand upon his -sword.</p> - -<p class="normal">"It is some door, moving on its rusty hinges," he said, after -listening for a moment. "The wind is blowing it backwards and -forwards;" and taking up the chair again, he bore it into the -corridor, while Iola went before with the light, gazing timidly -around.</p> - -<p class="normal">Nothing occurred to disturb them however; and at length, though not -without difficulty, Chartley got the cumbrous seat down the narrow -stairs. The Arab was now standing in the midst of the hall, gazing -towards the door, with his naked scimitar in his hand.</p> - -<p class="normal">"What is the matter, son of Ayoub?" asked Chartley. "What have you -heard?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Feet, and a groan," answered the Arab, with his dark eyes glaring in -the fire light.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Pooh, 'tis some rusty hinge," said Chartley, "and the feet of rats or -martins, driven to take shelter here by this long continued wintry -weather.--Seat yourself here, sweet Iola. Put your feet to the fire, -and dream of pleasant things, while I go up again and bring the -stool."</p> - -<p class="normal">Thus saying, he took the lamp from her hand, and re-ascended. He was -not long absent; but Iola listened anxiously for his returning step. -She felt safe while he was near her, but fearful the moment he was -away.</p> - -<p class="normal">Chartley was soon at her side again, and placing the stool close to -her feet, he seated himself thereon, and, leaning upon the arm of her -chair, gazed up into her face with a gay smile.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Now this is comfortable," he said. "We may pass the remaining hours -of night cheerfully enough here; and if you doze, sweet Iola, your -little head will but fall upon Chartley's shoulder, where it may rest -as securely, though not so softly, as on your own pillow in the abbey. -There, seat yourself there, Ibn Ayoub, in the nook of the chimney, or -your southern blood will be frozen in this cold northern night. Think -no more of groans and footfalls. These are all tricks of the -imagination--It is wonderful," he continued, turning to Iola, "what -wild fancies superstition will beget, ay, and sad as well as -wonderful, when one thinks of the horrible cruelties which reasonable -men will commit upon the strength of stories that a child should be -whipped for believing. When I was in Flanders a few years ago, a poor -woman was burned alive, in the public market place; and what do you -think was the crime of which she was accused?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Nay, I know not," answered Iola; "but, it should be a terrible crime -indeed to draw down so terrible a punishment."</p> - -<p class="normal">"The tale is simply this," replied Chartley. "There was a poor woman -in one of the towns of Flanders, who gained her bread by the work of -her needle. One of those who employed her was the wife of the bailiff -of the black monks of that town; but when her work was done, the -bailiff and his wife refused to pay the wages promised, and, being -poor and distressed for money, she was naturally importunate. -Obtaining no redress, she applied to the curate of the village, where -she was born; for advice and assistance. It happened, however, that -the good man had been entangled in a lawsuit with the bailiff of the -monks, and whatever was the advice he gave to the poor woman, their -conference resulted in evil to both. The woman sent her daughter to -demand a part of that which was due, if she could not obtain the -whole; and the poor girl arriving, while the bailiff and his family -were at dinner, stood beside the table for some time, petitioning for -payment in vain. Several days after, one of the family was taken ill -and died. The disease, it would seem, was infectious; and before its -ravages ceased, the bailiff and two others were dead. The rest of the -family took it into their heads to accuse the poor woman, her -daughter, and the curate, of having bewitched them; and fools and -knaves enough were found to relate, and to believe, that the curate -had baptized a toad, and had administered to it the blessed sacrament, -at the instigation of the poor needlewoman. The toad, cut in four -pieces, was said to have been thrown under the table, where the -bailiff dined, by the woman's daughter; and upon this fabricated -charge, the unhappy creature was cast into prison, put to the torture, -and afterwards burned to ashes."</p> - -<p class="normal">Iola shuddered.</p> - -<p class="normal">"It is very horrible," she said, "and one can hardly believe that such -cruelty can exist in the breasts of human creatures."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Or such folly either," answered Chartley, "as to suppose that the -quarters of a baptized toad could bewitch to the death three innocent -people. If there be charms and periapts, they must be produced by -other means than that."</p> - -<p class="normal">"But do you doubt there are such things?" asked Iola. "We read of them -continually."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Ah, fair Iola," answered Chartley, "we read and hear of many a thing -which, tried by the strong tests of reason and religion, vanish away -like empty dreams. If we but ask ourselves, thinking for one moment of -the goodness and majesty of the Almighty, is it probable, is it -possible, that God can suffer such things, there will be found an -answer in our own hearts, which will banish all such imaginations."</p> - -<p class="normal">Iola mused; and Chartley, laughing at the grave subject he had -introduced, was proceeding to change it for some lighter topic, when -the Arab suddenly rose up from the spot where he had seated himself, -and lifted up his finger as a warning to listen.</p> - -<p class="normal">"I hear something move," he said, "and not far off. Hark! You will -hear."</p> - -<p class="normal">Even as he spoke, a strange kind of whining sound, and then a dull -groaning, came upon the air; and Chartley, starting up, exclaimed--</p> - -<p class="normal">"This is indeed very strange."</p> - -<p class="normal">The sounds had ceased almost instantly; but a sort of long-drawn sigh -seemed to follow, and then a heavy rattling fall, as if a part of the -wall had rolled down.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Whatever that is," exclaimed Chartley, "it is in the court-yard. I -will go out and see."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Nay, nay, I beseech you," cried Iola, clinging to his arm, "do not, -dear lord, do not rush into needless danger. Let us go up to the rooms -above, and look forth from the windows there, as these are too high."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Stay, I can reach them by the chair," said Chartley; and, placing the -heavy seat underneath the window, the sill of which was a few inches -above his eyes, he mounted upon it and looked out in silence, while -Iola crept to his side, and raised her eyes towards his face. After -gazing for a few moments, Chartley held out his hand to her, -saying--"Come up hither beside me, sweet Iola, and see what is here. -Be not afraid. There is no danger."</p> - -<p class="normal">Iola gave him her hand, and, setting her light foot on the seat beside -him, rose till her eyes just came above the window sill.</p> - -<p class="normal">Her first impulse, had she not repressed it, when she obtained a view -through the dim small pane into the ruinous court, would have been to -utter a cry of terror and surprise; for certainly such were the -sensations which she felt. The fire which she and her companion had -left nearly extinguished had been relighted and piled up with fresh -wood, which was sending forth a volume of flame, higher than a man's -head; but the object which most struck the fair girl, as she gazed -forth, was a dark black-looking figure, sitting between the window and -the fire, crouched up in the position often assumed by an ape, and -seemingly holding its hands, to warm them at the blaze. The attire, as -far as it could be seen, which was very indistinctly, for the back -being turned towards them was in deep shadow, appeared to be quaint -and strange; and, rising straight up, though somewhat on the left side -of the head, appeared a long thin object like a horn. Chartley -continued gazing on this apparition in silence; but one glance was -enough for Iola; and, springing down, she covered her face with her -hand, saying in a low terrified voice--</p> - -<p class="normal">"Oh, come down, come down!"</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h3>CHAPTER XV.</h3> -<br> - -<p class="normal">To the surprise of Iola, and certainly not less to that of good Ibn -Ayoub, though with Mahommedan gravity he gave no voice to his wonder, -Chartley burst into a violent fit of laughter.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Good Heaven, what is it?" exclaimed Iola, looking up; and at the same -moment Chartley sprang down from the chair, still laughing.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Forgive me, dear Iola," he said, taking her little hand and kissing -it, "but did you ever see the devil play on a bag-pipe?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"I never saw the devil at all," replied Iola, with a bewildered look; -"but I do not understand what you mean."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I mean, sweet friend, that this is evidently a piper, and, if I -mistake not much, 'tis man I saw in Tamworth this very morning and -yesterday also. He seemed the life and soul of the people round, a -merry happy-hearted fellow, whom they call Sam the Piper, with a -breast without guile, if one may judge by his face, which bespeaks him -no one's enemy but his own. Strange to say, he would drink neither -wine nor ale, though I offered him either, and though his face -betrayed many a potation past, if not present. Stay a while. I will go -out and see. If it be the man I mean, I will bring him in; for by all -means we will have the piper of our faction."</p> - -<p class="normal">"But are you sure that it is safe?" said Iola, timidly, but holding -his arm to detain him.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Oh, he will not betray us," exclaimed Chartley; "and besides we can -keep him here as long as we like."</p> - -<p class="normal">"But if it should prove to be the--the--" said Iola, adding, after a -moment's pause, "some evil being."</p> - -<p class="normal">Chartley laughed again; and gently putting his arm round her for a -single instant, he said--</p> - -<p class="normal">"Fear not, Iola. With the angels in those eyes upon my side, I would -undertake to protect you against all the evil spirits in the -universe."</p> - -<p class="normal">Iola dropped the eyelids over the lustrous orbs below; and a blush -spread over her cheek like the crimson light of the setting sun. -Chartley instantly withdrew his arm; and repeating--"Fear not," he -opened the door and went out of the hall.</p> - -<p class="normal">A few words were then heard, spoken without; and a moment after he -re-entered, followed by Sam the Piper, with his beloved instrument -still tight under his arm. The good man's steps were not quite steady, -and certainly it was not natural feebleness that caused their -vacillation. Yet his eye was clear and bright; and his merry voice -seemed not in the least thickened by any liquor he might have imbibed.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Gad ye good night, lords and ladies, gad ye good night," he said, as -he entered, making a low obeisance, and producing at the same time a -lamentable squeak from his chanter. "Gad ye good night, tawny Moor. I -did not think to see your beautiful black face again for many a day. -Gad ye good night, fairest of ladies. To see you and his dark lordship -here, one would think one's self upon the confines of the upper and -the nether world, with angels on the one side and devils on the -other."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Meaning me for one, knave," said Chartley, giving him a good-humoured -shake.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Ah, mercy, mercy, noble sir," cried the piper in a pitiful tone. -"Shake me not; for my legs are not made of iron to-night, and my -stomach is as full as my bag when well blown up."</p> - -<p class="normal">"But your stomach has something stronger than air in it, if I mistake -not," said Chartley, laughing, "Come tell me, sirrah, how it happens -that you, who would take no strong drink yesterday, are well nigh -drunk tonight."</p> - -<p class="normal">"There's no contradiction in that," replied the man, "though I take no -liquor, liquor may overtake me; and if a man is overtaken in liquor, -the fault's in the liquor, not in him."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Still, if the fault's in the liquor, and the liquor in him, the fault -is in him," answered Chartley; "for learned doctors say that the thing -which contains another contains all that it contains."</p> - -<p class="normal">"But, then," replied the piper, who, like many of his class, was -exceedingly fond of chopping logic; "if the fault's in the liquor, and -the liquor in him, he cannot be in fault, for the thing that contains -cannot be in the thing contained. But marry, my good lord, the truth -is, I made a promise to good sister Alice at the convent, not to get -drunk at Tamworth fair, and gloriously I redeemed my word, and -gloriously I got drunk afterwards."</p> - -<p class="normal">While this dialogue had been proceeding, Iola stood by, marvelling -greatly at all she heard; for it was a scene altogether new to her, -and one of which, in her simplicity and ignorance of the world's ways, -she could have formed no conception. In her ramblings hither and -thither, which her good aunt had permitted pretty liberally, she might -indeed have seen, now and then, a drunken man, for alas, drunkenness -is a virtue of no particular age; but she had never met with the merry -reckless wine-bibber--one of the peculiar character of the good -piper--who has an excuse for his sins always ready, by which he does -not impose upon himself.</p> - -<p class="normal">After a few more words of the same kind, Chartley moved her chair for -her back to the fire, seated himself as before on the stool by her -side, and, while the Arab resumed his place, pointed to the opposite -side, saying to the piper, "There, sit you down, and tell us what -you've seen in the forest to-night."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Good faith, I have seen nothing," answered Sam, "for the night's -dark, and I have been somewhat dark too. After I had been to the abbey -for the morning dole, to show good sister Alice that I had kept my -word and was quite sober, I went away to the first tavern, and, with -all the pence I had collected in the fair, bought myself a stoup of -small wine, and a farthing's worth of sugar. Your lordship's groat -helped me wonderfully. Then, not liking the thought of a forcible -division of my property, I brought my wine up here, ensconced me in -the doorway of the little tower, and went on sipping till I fell -asleep. When I woke, it was black night; but there was still something -left in my wine-pot, and I set to again to gain courage, and to keep -out the cold. When I looked abroad, however, I soon saw that somebody -had lighted a fire in the court; and I crept round and round on the -walls, to see who it was, saying Paters and Aves all the time, and -thinking it might be the devil had done it; for he, it is said, keeps -up the best fire in his house of any man."</p> - -<p class="normal">Lord Chartley gave a meaning and merry glance to Iola; and Iola smiled -in return.</p> - -<p class="normal">"At length, seeing no one there," continued the piper, "I ventured -down into the court to warm myself, when suddenly your lordship -came upon me, and took me prisoner. I suppose it was my mad pipes -betrayed me, for, like a chattering wife, they are always talking -where they should not, unless I am careful to blow all the wind out -of the bag. However, I am never much afraid of robbers, plunderers, -camp-followers, or anything, for nobody meddles with a piper. You -cannot have more of a cat than her skin, nor of a piper than his -pipes, and neither the one nor the other is of much use to those who -do not know how to handle them."</p> - -<p class="normal">Chartley mused for a minute or two, and then said in a low tone to his -fair companion:</p> - -<p class="normal">"Do you not think, dear lady, that we could make use of this merry -ribald, to communicate our situation here to those who could give us -intelligence--ay, and even help in case of need. It is very sweet," he -continued, tenderly, "to sit here by your side, whiling away the -livelong hours of night, with one so fair and gentle. But I must not -forget your comfort in my own happiness. You have passed a weary and -an anxious night, and the sooner I can restore you to your friends, to -tranquillity and repose, the better. I must find some other moment," -he added rapidly, "brighter and calmer, to say more of myself--I think -that we may use this man, who will not be stopped by the soldiery, to -bear tidings of where you are----"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Oh yes," exclaimed Iola, "let him go as quickly as possible to the -abbey. My aunt will be sadly anxious about me."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I fear that would be dangerous," replied Chartley. "Rather let him go -to the woodman, tell him where we are, request him to send us -information and advice, and, if possible, to communicate to the -abbess, that you are quite safe. That I think is the best course to -pursue."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Perhaps it is," answered Iola; and then in a lower tone, she added, -"if you can quite trust to this man--he seems a libertine and a -drunkard."</p> - -<p class="normal">"You must not judge him too harshly," replied Chartley. "Most men, -especially of his class, have their peculiar vices; but, though it may -seem strange, from those vices you must not imply others of a -different class and character. Nay, more, there are faults which are -almost always accompanied by certain better qualities; and, from what -I know of the world, I am inclined to think, that this man's good -faith might be better trusted than that of many a sanctimonious friar -or smooth-spoken propriety-loving trader."</p> - -<p class="normal">"But is he fit?" asked Iola. "To me he seems hardly sober."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Oh fit enough," answered Chartley. "With daily tipplers a certain -portion of good wine is needful to sharpen their senses. That gives -them wit which takes away the wits of other men; and he is not likely -to find more drink in the forest unless he apply to the pure -stream.--Hark ye, good master piper. Tell me how much discretion is -left in that noddle of yours?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Enough to prevent me running my head against a post, or leading -another into a ditch," answered the piper. "Now, good my lord, did I -not come down the stairs, from the little turret into the court-yard, -with every stone step as frail and moveable as the rounds of -ambition's ladder?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"And thou art trustworthy, methinks," said Chartley, in a musing tone.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Else have I drunk many a butt of good liquor to no purpose," replied -the piper.</p> - -<p class="normal">"How should that make thee trustworthy?" demanded the young lord.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Because the liquor was sound and honest, my lord," replied the piper; -"and as by this time it must have penetrated every part, I should be -sound and honest too. Moreover, it was best half drunk in secret, so -that secrecy's a part of my composition also."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Well, I will trust thee," replied Chartley, "and if thou wilt win a -gold angel, thou shalt have the means of doing so."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I will not debate upon the question long," said Sam, starting up. "I -am always ready to go upon a pilgrimage, and far readier to worship a -gold angel than a painted saint. Let me see, six stoups, at one -shilling and two pence the stoup, would be--soul of my body, there's -drink for a week in a gold angel."</p> - -<p class="normal">"There, there, cease your calculations," cried Chartley; "first win -the angel, and then use it discreetly afterwards."</p> - -<p class="normal">"So shall it be my better angel," said the piper, laughing, and -winking his eye. "But how is the celestial coin to be obtained, my -lord?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Listen, and you shall hear," replied the young nobleman; "and be -serious now, for this is a matter of importance. Do you know Boyd, the -head woodman of the abbey?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Do I know the great oak of Ashton?" exclaimed Sam. "Do I know the old -tower of Tamworth? Do I know anything that men frequenting this -neighbourhood see every day? Why, Boyd has given me both a beating and -a breakfast, at times, has made my back groan under a cudgel and under -a bacon. That last was a-good deed, for it saved my boy, who is now -over the sea with the Marquis of Dorset, from starving, when he was -hid away in Mount Sorel wood. Oh yes, we all know Boyd; the roughest -tongue, the hardest hand, the clearest eye, and the kindest heart in -the country."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Well then," said Chartley, "I wish you to find him out, and to tell -him for me, that I am here in the old castle, and have a lady with -me whom he wots of. My name I suppose you have learned from the -horse-boys, by your be-lording me so often; and he will divine who the -lady is; if you tell him that she is with me, and safe, but that we -dare not venture forth without further information, while these -soldiers are watching the wood. Let him send word to the lady's -friends that she is in security, but, above all, give us intelligence -and help if he can."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Soldiers watching the wood?" said the piper, in a tone of surprise.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Ay, even so," answered Chartley. "Thou, hast been like one of the -seven sleepers, my friend, and hast dozed, unconscious, while great -events were going on around thee. Half the houses on the abbey green -have been burned; and there are bands now upon all the great roads of -the wood. Does that frighten thee?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Not a whit," cried the piper. "How should it frighten me? They could -but slash the sow's stomach under my arm, or my own; and neither the -one nor the other is worth the sharpening of a knife. They'll not harm -me; for all your mud-splashing, sheep-stealing, wench-kissing, -big-oathed, blaspheming horse troopers are fond of a minstrel; and I -will strike up my pipes when I come near the high road, to let them -know who I am. It may be a signal to old Boyd too, if he's wandering -through the wood, as most likely he is; for, like a ghost, he goes -about more by night than by day.--Burned half the houses on the abbey -green! That's serious. By my pipes, some necks'll be twisted for it, I -think."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I trust there will," answered Chartley; "but now set out upon your -errand, my good man, and when next you see me, my message being -delivered, claim of me a gold angel; but if you say a word of it to -any one else but Boyd himself, when next I see you, you shall have -another sort of payment."</p> - -<p class="normal">The piper laughed, and, giving the bag under his arm a squeeze, made -his pipes squeak in a very ludicrous manner. Then quitting the hall, -with a steadier step than that with which he had entered, he took his -way down through the wood which had often been his home during many a -warm summer night. Most of the paths were familiar to him; and -trudging on, he entered one of the broader ways, which led directly to -the high road that divided the forest into two unequal parts. After he -had gone on for about half a mile, he heard voices speaking, and -paused for an instant to consider. "I will be very drunk," he said to -himself. "Drunkenness is often as good a cloak as hypocrisy. All men -make their garments out of the skins of beasts, and the smoothest are -not always the thickest. Here go I then;" and, assuming a reeling and -unsteady step, he blew up the bag of his pipes, and soon, from the -various stops, produced a gay wild air, which would have been pretty -enough, but for the continued dull squeaking with which it was -accompanied.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Ha, who goes there?" cried a voice, a minute or two after, as he -emerged upon the road; and two mounted men were immediately by his -side.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Sam the piper, Sam the piper," he answered, in drunken accents. "And -who are you, jolly boys? What do you keep the king's highway for? Are -you looking to see if any man has dropped his purse? If so, I cry -shares; for by St. Dominic, there's nothing in mine. Now, marry, if a -fat priest were to fall in your way, I would rather be his mule -afterwards than before."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Why so, knave?" asked one of the men.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Marry, because he'd ride lighter, I've a notion," replied Sam.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Ha, say'st thou so, knave?" cried one of the men, lifting up his hand -to strike him; but the other interposed, saying--</p> - -<p class="normal">"Nay, nay, 'tis Sam the piper. He has a fool's privilege, and means no -harm. Besides the man is drunk."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Come, tell me, knave," exclaimed the other, "whither thou hast been -wandering in the wood?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Nay, Heaven knows," answered the piper, "wherever wine and destiny -led me. I have been asleep half the time; and since I woke, I have -been walking about in the cool, to clear my complexion, and get the -fumes of Tamworth fair out of my head; for I felt my knees weaker than -they ought to be, and a solemn sort of haziness of the wits, just such -as the preaching parson at Ashton must have after writing one of his -sermons, and his congregation do have after hearing one."</p> - -<p class="normal">The two soldiers laughed, and the fiercer of the two demanded--</p> - -<p class="normal">"Did'st thou meet any man in the forest?</p> - -<p class="normal">"Not till I met your reverences," replied the piper. "I do not know -what any man should do here, unless it were to sleep off a tipsy fit, -lose his way, or pick up a purse, though the last has grown a rarity -since the wars came to an end. In former times men might gather purses -like blackberries upon every bush. That was when I was a soldier. But -that whorson poke with a pike I got at Barnet crippled my crupper -joint for life, and made me walk unsteady, which causes the poor fools -to say I am drunk, though all the world knows that I live like an -anchorite, eat herbs and roots, when I can get no flesh, and drink -pure water, when there's neither wine nor ale to be had. Give you good -den, my masters--What's the time o'day?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Night, you drunken dolt," replied one of the men. "It's matins by -this time, but are you sure that you have not seen a man in a friar's -gown? If you lie to me, your ears won't be safe for the next month.</p> - -<p class="normal">"A man in a friar's gown?" said the piper with a hiccup, "ay, to be -sure I did."</p> - -<p class="normal">"When? Where?" cried the soldiers eagerly.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Why, in Tamworth, yesterday morning," answered the piper; and one of -the men, giving him a smart blow with his fist, told him to go on his -way, with no very commendatory valediction.</p> - -<p class="normal">Playing his part admirably well, the piper reeled down the road, -passing two other patroles, each of which stopped and interrogated -him, as the other men had done; somewhat more briefly, however, when -they found he had been stopped and questioned before. At length, -sitting down by the road side, as if his legs refused to carry him -farther, when two of his interrogators had just passed on, he waited -till they had gone to a little distance, and then plunged into the -wood. He soon forced his way on, to one of the lesser paths, but there -he stopped to consider, saying to himself--"How shall I make Boyd -hear, if he be roaming about? I'll go straight to his house; but this -forest is for all the world like a rabbit burrow; and I may be popping -out of one hole while he is popping into another, if I cannot contrive -to send some messenger to his ears, that will run a few hundred yards -on each side of me, at least. I must not try the pipes again, but I -will make the belling of a deer. If he hears that at this season of -the year, he will be sure to come up to see what's the matter."</p> - -<p class="normal">Accordingly, by placing his fingers after a fashion of his own upon -his lips, he contrived to produce a very accurate imitation of the -peculiar call of the deer at certain periods of the year; he continued -to emit these sounds from time to time, as he walked on, till at -length he heard a rustle in the brushwood near.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Now that's either a stag," he said to himself, "who, like a young -gallant of nineteen, makes love at all times and seasons, and I shall -have his horns in my stomach in a minute; or else it is Boyd or one of -his men, and I have hit the mark. I must risk the horns, I fancy."</p> - -<p class="normal">A moment after, a low voice said--</p> - -<p class="normal">"Who goes there?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Sam the piper," answered our good friend, "looking for what he cannot -find;" and the next moment, pushing through the shrubs, the tall and -powerful form of the woodman stood before him.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Ah, Sam," said Boyd, "what are you seeking, you drunken dog?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Seeking you, master Boyd," answered Sam in a very different tone from -that in which he had addressed the soldiers. "I have news for you."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Ay, and what may that be?" demanded Boyd, with the utmost -indifference of manner; "some of the gossip of Tamworth I suppose. The -bailiff has beat his wife, or the mercer's daughter has gone off with -the smart apprentice; but I have other things to think of, master Sam, -to-night. Have you heard that the rough bands from Coleshill have -burnt the houses on the abbey green?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Yes, I've heard of it," answered Sam; "and there has been a great -fire up at the old castle too."</p> - -<p class="normal">The woodman started.</p> - -<p class="normal">"At the old castle! What do you mean?" he exclaimed. "Who should burn -the old castle?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"I didn't say it had been burned," replied the piper. "I only said -that there was a great fire there; and very comfortable it was too, -considering the cold night and the good company."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Speak out, man! What do you mean?" demanded the woodman sternly. -"This is no time for fool's play."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I think not," answered the piper; "and so the plain truth is, that I -was ordered, by a certain young lord, to tell you, that a certain -young lady is up there safe with him and his tawny Moor, and that they -are afraid to stir out while the wood is watched by the soldiers, -without farther information and advice; and they look to you to give -both, and moreover to send intelligence to her friends, that she is -quite safe. There, I have delivered my message, better than ever -message was delivered before, for I have given it word for word, and -you may make the best of it."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Up there, with him alone throughout the night!" said the woodman, in -a tone of no very great approbation. "Yet he may be trusted, I -think--but still 'twere better not. What will the other feel, when he -hears of it?--No matter. It cannot be helped. There is nothing else to -be done."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Oh yes, there is," answered the piper; "if you could take them up a -stoup of wine, or a black jack of good strong beer, you would do more; -for, if I judge rightly, they have nothing to keep up the spirits, or -support the body; or amuse the time, unless it be making love, and -that is cold work without meat or drink."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Listen to this fool now!" said the woodman, "how he hits the nail -aright--I will go up myself."</p> - -<p class="normal">"They will not thank you if you come empty-handed," answered the -piper; "and you had better take me with you, to show you the way; for -the forest is changed since you last saw it, and there are living -trees on the high road, which stop up the paths, and move to and fro."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I understand thee, piper," answered the woodman. "Thou art a shrewd -knave with thine enigmas. Come along with me then. I will try to make -thee useful, for the first time in thy life."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Not useful!" said the piper, as the woodman moved on, taking a branch -of the path that led away to the right. "I am the most useful man in -the whole hundred. What would weddings be without me, or baptisms -either? How many quarrels do my sweet notes allay? How often do I make -peace between man and wife, by drowning her shrill voice by my -shriller notes, and outroaring him with my drone? Go to, you would -never get on without me--Useful, quotha? But where are you going, now? -This is not the way to the castle."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I am going to take thy sage advice," replied the woodman, "which on -ordinary occasions is not worth a groat. But we may as well carry up -some provisions; and for that purpose, as well as others, I must take -my cottage by the way. But now hold thy peace, man, for I would have -my thoughts clear."</p> - -<p class="normal">Thus saying, he strode on before, the piper following, till they -reached the broader road, which passed the cottage, and came in sight -of the little green.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Hist, hist," said the piper. "There is some one before the door. It -may be one of the soldiers who set fire to the houses."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Then I will cleave his skull with my axe," answered the woodman, -lightly; "but, 'tis only David. Go on--get thee into the house. I want -to speak, to him;" and striding forward, he approached the man, and -spoke a few words to him, of which the piper could only distinguish a -few, though he was all ears.</p> - -<p class="normal">"By half-past five," said the woodman, "as many as you can, and well -armed."</p> - -<p class="normal">"At the old castle?" asked the man.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Yes," answered the woodman, "under the gateway. The sky will be grey -by that time. Quarrel not with the soldiers, if you can help it. Say -you are but doing your needful service; but keep to it sturdily. Nay, -now I think of it, 'twere better to gather in the wood upon the hill -before the castle, especially if the soldiers follow you. There, begin -hewing down the young trees which we marked for cutting out, and run -up to the gate if you should hear my horn. Now away, and bring all you -can; but mind you send Adam up on his pony at once to the abbey."</p> - -<p class="normal">The man replied not, but ran away with a peculiarly quick but easy -trot; and Boyd entered the hut, where he found the piper standing very -near the door. He felt inclined to ask him why he had not gone in, -feeling sure that he had lingered to listen; but there, just before -him, stood the great deer-hound Ban, neither growling nor attempting -to seize the intruder, but gazing at him with a very fierce and -formidable expression of countenance, which might well daunt even a -stout heart in the breast of an unarmed man. The moment the dog saw -his master, however, he dropped his stiffened tail and raised ears; -and the woodman said, "Now, Sam, come you with me, and we will load -ourselves with food for the nonce. Here, sling this great bottle under -your right arm, to balance your bag-pipes, and take this loaf upon -your back. I will carry the rest; but I must leave my right hand free, -in case of need, to use my weapon."</p> - -<p class="normal">"But how am I to use my weapon, if you load me so?" asked the piper, -making his instrument give a squeak.</p> - -<p class="normal">"The less you use it the better," answered the woodman.</p> - -<p class="normal">"I say the same of all weapons," rejoined Sam. "But never mind, put on -the load, and let us go."</p> - -<p class="normal">Their arrangements were soon complete, and with a rapid pace they -gained once more the edge of the high roads and there paused under the -trees, to watch the proceedings of the enemy. The same vigilant patrol -was kept up; but the woodman marked it with a smile.</p> - -<p class="normal">"They think the person they seek must have taken refuge there," he -said in a whisper to his companion, "because he could not pass by the -hamlet or the lower road, without falling in with them; but if they -keep their parties so loose, I would pass a hundred men across, one by -one. I will go first, and you follow. He waited till the next couple -of soldiers had ridden slowly by, and then with a silent step crossed -to the opposite side of the road, where he paused for his companion; -but the poor piper had nearly brought himself into a dangerous -situation, by a hankering for the great bottle which hung under his -arm. In extracting, with his stout finger and thumb, the cork from the -mouth, he produced a sound loud enough to make two of the soldiers -stop, and then ride up to the spot; but his bagpipe once more saved -him; for squeezing the bag hard, and running his fingers over the -pipe, he produced a series of sounds only to be equalled by those of -two cats in a gutter; and one of the soldiers exclaimed:</p> - -<p class="normal">"It is only that drunken piper again. Cease your squalling, knave, or -I'll break your pate."</p> - -<p class="normal">The sound of the pipe instantly stopped; and the moment the two men -had gone on, the piper passed the road and joined his companion. The -rest of the way was speedily accomplished, and, a little before five, -the woodman approached the gates of the old castle. There he paused, -and, after a moment's thought, turned to his companion, saying:</p> - -<p class="normal">"It would be a great advantage to us, my good friend, Sam, if we could -get some information of the movements of these bands."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I'll undertake it," said the piper, whom success had made bold. "You -shall have tidings of any change in their dance. But you must give me -something to wet my mouth first, Master Boyd."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Well, well," answered the woodman, set the bottle to your lips, but -only drink to the peg, do you hear? Stay, I'll hold my hand upon it, -and stop you; for you must leave some for others, and not take too -much yourself.</p> - -<p class="normal">The piper took a deep draught, and was only stayed by his companion -snatching the bottle from him. Then followed a consultation as to what -was to be done in the many contingencies which might arise. It was -agreed that, if the piper did not return within half an hour after -day-break, the party in the castle should conclude he had been -detained by the soldiery; that if he came back without being followed, -and having remarked no movement of importance, he should play a low -and quiet air upon his instrument; while, on the contrary, if the -soldiers were at his heels, and danger menacing, he should come on -with a quick loud march.</p> - -<p class="normal">This being settled, he departed on his errand; and, passing over the -frail remains of the bridge, the woodman entered the great court, -where the embers of the fire were still gleaming in the ashes, like -the eyes of a wild beast through a thicket. Approaching the door of -the hall, he paused and listened, not knowing what might have occurred -since the wandering musician had quitted the place. But all was -silent; and, bending down his head a little, he looked forward into -the interior of the hall through one of the rifts which had been made -violently in the door at the former siege. The party were nearly in -the same position as when the piper had left them, the Arab crouching -upon the ground near the fire, which he seemed lately to have supplied -with wood, and his dark face resting on his darker hand. Chartley was -seated on the footstool, with his feet stretched towards the fire, and -his left side leaning against the arm of the chair. In the chair was -Iola as before, but her eyes were closed. Her hand rested upon -Chartley's arm; and her head drooped upon his shoulder, while her -balmy breath fanned his cheek, as she slept, tired out by emotions and -fatigues.</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h3>CHAPTER XVI.</h3> -<br> - -<p class="normal">In the course of this work I have mentioned several roads, the -direction of each of which will be very easily understood by those who -have an acquaintance with the locality, even in the present day. For -those who have not, however, I must add a few words of explanation. -One road, passing over the abbey green and between the houses on the -western side, descended the slope, on the top of which the buildings -stood, and then, running through the lower part of the wood, ascended -the higher hill, cutting straight across the heart of the forest. At -the bottom of the slope, however, just under the abbey, and at the -distance of, perhaps, a quarter of a mile, this road was entered by -another, which, coming through the lower ground from the hamlet at -Coleshill, and joining the valley and the stream at the distance of -about a mile from that place, followed all the meanders which the -little river chose to take, till it reached the spot I have mentioned. -At the point where the two roads met, Sir John Godscroft, after -distributing his men around the wood, fixed his temporary head -quarters, and took the measures which he thought necessary for -obtaining information. Two messengers were also sent off in haste in -different directions; and every peasant who could be brought in was -strictly interrogated, as well as the bailiff of the abbey, who was -subjected to more than one cross examination. The information of the -bailiff was peculiarly valuable, not so much because it was eagerly -and minutely given, both from motives of revenge and apprehension, as -because it afforded the most perfect and detailed account of every -part of the abbey, as far as it was known to the coward himself. From -it, Sir John Godscroft satisfied himself completely, first, that no -part of the abbey where a man could be concealed had escaped search, -and, secondly, that the fugitive must have taken refuge in that -portion of the forest lying to the right of the road as you ascended -the hill. With this conviction he established a line of patrols all -round the wood, too close, as he thought, for any man to pass -unnoticed, and then wrapping himself in his cloak, with a saddle for -his pillow, he gave himself up to sleep. Twice he woke during the -night, and, mounting his horse, rode at a rapid pace round the whole -of that part of the wood which he was watching so eagerly, and ever, -as he went, he encouraged the men on duty, by reminding them that a -reward of a thousand marks was promised for the capture of the bishop -of Ely.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Be vigilant till morning," he said, "and then we will search the -wood. In a few hundred acres like this, it is impossible he can -escape."</p> - -<p class="normal">He once more stretched himself on the ground, when it wanted about an -hour to dawn, and had slept for somewhat more than half an hour, when -he was roused by the return of one of his messengers.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Up into the saddle, Sir John, up into the saddle!" said the man; "Sir -William Catesby is at my heels with full five hundred spears. He rose -and mounted at once, as soon as he got your message; and his men say -that he has a warrant under the king's own hand for the arrest of the -bishop and several others."</p> - -<p class="normal">Godscroft looked somewhat grim at this intelligence, imagining, -perhaps that the reward he anticipated was likely to be snatched from -his grasp by another. What he might have done in these circumstances, -had there been time for deliberate thought and action, I cannot tell; -but before he could well shake off the effects of sleep, the head of -Catesby's troop came down from the green; and the crafty and -dissimulating minister of Richard sprang to the ground by his side.</p> - -<p class="normal">Catesby took Sir John Godscroft by the hand, and divining, perhaps, -what might be the impression produced by his coming, said in a loud -frank tone, "Sir John, you and your brave companions have done the -king good service, which will not be easily forgotten. Think not that -I come either to share or take away your reward, but simply as a loyal -subject and a good soldier, to do my duty to my prince and my country, -without any recompense whatever. We must have this traitor before noon -to-morrow."</p> - -<p class="normal">"That shall we, beyond doubt, Sir William," replied the other, while a -good number of the soldiers stood round and listened. "With the force -which you have brought, one body can surround the wood while the other -searches."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I must detach a considerable troop," replied Catesby, "to pursue the -party of Lord Chartley to Hinckley; for I have authority to attach -every one who has contributed in any degree to the escape of this -proclaimed traitor, the bishop of Ely."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Then I have a notion you must attach the abbess of St. Clare," said -Godscroft, "for she has certainly sheltered him and favoured his -evasion, since the young lord left him there."</p> - -<p class="normal">"How many men has Chartley with him?" demanded Catesby, not appearing -to notice the suggestion regarding the abbess.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Well nigh upon fifty," answered Godscroft, and then added, returning -to the point: "Had you not better secure the abbey first?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"No, no," answered Catesby; "we must not violate sanctuary, nor touch -the privileges of the church;" and, taking Godscroft's arm, he said in -a low voice, "What is the meaning of those houses I see burned upon -the green? I hope your men have not done it."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Good faith but they have," answered the other; "altogether contrary -to my orders though; and I have hanged several of them for their -pains."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Better keep this from the king's ears," said Catesby, musing. -"However, we must have the bishop, Sir John, and this young Lord -Chartley too, who has been clearly privy to Morton's visit to England, -which makes it a case of misprision of treason, for which disease the -axe is the only remedy I know."</p> - -<p class="normal">After uttering these bitter words in a somewhat jocose tone, he -returned to the head of his troop, and gave some orders, which -immediately caused a party of forty-eight or fifty men to ride on, -with all speed, upon the same road which had been taken the night -before by Chartley and his companions. The rest of Catesby's -dispositions were soon made; for, in order not to disappoint Sir John -Godscroft and his companions of their prey, he reserved to the regular -soldiers the simple task of guarding the wood, while it was searched -by Godscroft's band. Nothing, however, could be done till day-break, -beyond a few preliminary arrangements; and the rest of the time was -spent by the two leaders in walking up and down, and conversing over -the events in which they took an interest.</p> - -<p class="normal">"If we had but known an hour or two before," said Sir John Godscroft, -"we should have caught the bishop in the abbey. We lost no time by the -way, nor in setting out either; for we were not five minutes out of -the saddle after Sir Charles's messenger arrived. 'Tis marvellous he -did not send before; for his man tells me he was more than a whole day -in the bishop's company, and knew him from the first."</p> - -<p class="normal">"He could not help it," answered Catesby. "He wrote at once to the -king and to myself; but it was agreed on all hands that it would be -better for Weinants to follow him till he was lodged somewhere for the -night; for, if we had attempted to take him in Tamworth yesterday -morning--not having known soon enough to seize him in his bed--he -would have escaped to a certainty, in the confusion of the fair. Then -to catch him on the road would have been difficult, for Chartley's -party is large; and a very little resistance on their part would have -given him time to fly. No, no, Weinants is wonderfully shrewd and -discreet; and he calculated to a nicety, that this traitor prelate -would either stop here upon some pretence, while the rest rode on to -Hinckley, or go on with them to Hinckley, where he could be taken -without trouble.--Is not the sky turning somewhat greyer, think you?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Methinks it is," replied the other.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Well then, let us to our work," said Catesby. "You must dismount your -men, and let two or three enter at the mouth of every path, pursuing -it through its whole track, till they meet somewhere in the centre of -the wood. Have you any one who knows the forest well?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"But few," replied the other. "However, I have remarked, when riding -by on the other road, the towers of an old castle rising up, about the -middle of this part which we have surrounded. They can all direct -their steps thither--"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Ay, and search the castle too," said Catesby. "He must have some one -to guide him, depend upon it. The ruin will be a good place for -refuge."</p> - -<p class="normal">"If we find him not at the first essay," responded the other, "we can -afterwards take the wood in separate portions, and beat through every -thicket, as we should for a stag."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Away then, away!" answered Catesby. "It will be well day before we -have commenced."</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h3>CHAPTER XVII.</h3> -<br> - -<p class="normal">The opening of the door of the hall startled Iola from her slumber; -and when she found where her head had been resting, a bright warm -blush spread over her fair face. Though the lamp was by this time -glimmering low, the form and face of the woodman were instantly -recognized by all the party in the hall; and an expression of gladness -came over all their faces. He was instantly assailed by many questions -which he could not answer; but he told all he knew; and one piece of -information was at all events satisfactory to both Chartley and Iola, -namely, that the bishop had escaped. "There," he continued, setting -down the food and wine which he carried, "there is something to -refresh you, young people, though good sooth, lady, I thought you were -by this time safe within the walls of the abbey, and would rather it -had been so."</p> - -<p class="normal">"And so would I," answered Iola, though, perhaps, her heart was at -that moment a little doubtful; "but it could not be, Boyd, for the -door in the cell was closed when I went back--I fancy the bishop had -let it slip from his hand--and I could not return to the abbey without -passing through the midst of the armed men. Then as I was hurrying -towards your cottage for shelter and protection, I met with this noble -Lord, who told me the soldiers were upon the road----"</p> - -<p class="normal">"And proved a pleasanter protector than an old woodman, I doubt not," -replied Boyd, with a cynical smile.</p> - -<p class="normal">Iola's face reddened again; but she replied frankly: "a noble, a kind, -and a generous one certainly, to whom I shall ever feel indebted."</p> - -<p class="normal">"One does not choose in a thunderstorm, my good friend," said -Chartley, in his usual gay tone, "whether one will take refuge in a -palace or a hermitage. The nearest place at hand is the best; and this -fair lady, I doubt not, cared not much whether it was a lord or a -woodman that came to her aid, so that she got help at need. But now -let us think of what is to be done. Morning will soon be here, and -some course of action must be determined."</p> - -<p class="normal">"What course do you propose?" asked Boyd.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Nay, I know not," answered Chartley. "The only thing I can think of -is to take the lady by the hand, and walk straight through these men -back to the abbey with her. They cannot prove me to be a bishop, nor -her either, I suppose."</p> - -<p class="normal">The woodman mused, and then, pointing to the provisions, he said, "Eat -and drink, eat and drink; you can do that and think too--They cannot -prove either of you to be the bishop. I wish you were anything so -good; but they can, perhaps, prove that you have, both of you, helped -the bishop; and they can make treason out of that, I doubt not, after -the proclamation. 'Tis an awkward case," he continued; "but if you -wait awhile, the piper will bring us intelligence. The best spies in -the world are pipers, horse-doctors, and mendicant friars. Perhaps the -tidings he brings may save you the trouble of decision."</p> - -<p class="normal">"That is always something gained," replied Chartley; "for decision is -sometimes the hardest work we have to do; but yet I think any plan may -be the best after all; for they can prove but little against me, and -nothing against this sweet lady. They can but suppose that I am -conducting her back to the abbey from some visit or expedition, with -which they have nought to do."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Ha!" exclaimed the woodman, sternly; "thou would'st not risk her name -and fair fame, young lord? Some visit! What, in this garb, without -coif, or veil, or mantle--on foot, with no attendants? No, no. If she -were to be met and questioned, she must e'en tell the truth, for to -suffer prison, or to lose life itself, were such a thing probable, -were but light to a taint upon her name."</p> - -<p class="normal">"And who would dare utter such an insinuation in my presence?" -exclaimed Chartley, his eye flashing at the thought. "By Heaven, if -any man did, I would cram it down his throat with my sword."</p> - -<p class="normal">"So hot!" said the woodman, with a laugh. "If they did not utter it in -your presence, they might utter it behind your back, which were as -bad. They might say--and how could you deny it?--that this lady had -been out of the abbey with you, roaming about no one knew whither, -without motive, without cause, without excuse. No, no! That will not -do. Lord Chartley cannot fight or frighten two hundred men; and they -will have a reason for all this, depend upon it. If not, they'll make -one. 'Tis most unlucky that I knew not of these events before, or I -would have found means to send to the abbey, and have the door from -the cell opened; but it is now too late, I fear, and, at all events, -we must wait for further intelligence. But fear not, lady, fear not. -We will find resources, which are many here, though not quite so -plentiful as the acorns on the trees."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I am not afraid," answered Iola. "The king, I do not think, would -kill me for guiding the bishop into the wood."</p> - -<p class="normal">"But he might prevent your marrying the man of your heart," answered -the woodman, with one of his grim smiles.</p> - -<p class="normal">Iola's colour rose a little; but she replied boldly: "I have no man of -my heart, Boyd; and therefore he could not do that either."</p> - -<p class="normal">Chartley's eye had turned rapidly to Iola's face, as the woodman -spoke, with an anxious and inquiring look; but her frank reply seemed -to relieve him, and he said, gaily: "Nevertheless, we must not risk -anything where there is risk to you, dear lady. Methinks you are one -who would find even gesses of silk or gold cord difficult to wear; and -we must give Richard no excuse for putting them on, if we can help -it."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Women are born to wear gesses of some kind or another, noble lord," -replied Iola; "and unhappy is the woman who cannot, content herself -with them; but I trust you will consult your own safety without -heeding mine."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Not I, in faith!" answered Chartley, in a determined tone. "I will -see you back to the abbey, and safe in the hands of your friends, come -what will--that is to say, if I have power to do so. They may take my -life or my liberty, but no man has power to make me break my word, or -fail in my devoir."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Well, well," said the woodman; "let us think of these things no more. -Come, take some bread, good friend," he continued, speaking to the -Arab. "There is salt in it, and you can e'en taste the bottle too, I -dare say, for you cannot tell what are the contents."</p> - -<p class="normal">He then leaned his head upon his hand, as he lay stretched out by the -fire, and seemed to fall asleep, while Iola and Chartley conversed in -low tones. But, though his eyes were closed, it was not with slumber; -and at length, after an hour or somewhat more had passed, he and the -Arab both started up at once, the woodman exclaiming: "Hark! there is -our messenger! Come forth with me, my lord, and meet him. Your trusty -infidel can stay and protect the lady."</p> - -<p class="normal">Chartley followed at once, and the woodman strode rapidly across the -court, but suddenly stopped, under the old arch of the gateway; and, -laying his hand upon Lord Chartley's arm, he said, in a low serious -tone: "Are you aware, my lord, that the Lady Iola St. Leger is -contracted in marriage to Arnold Lord Fulmer?"</p> - -<p class="normal">Chartley stood and gazed at him in silence, with his brow contracted -and his lip quivering. He could not or he would not reply, and the -woodman went on saying: "I am sorry, you did not know this. It should -have been told you before."</p> - -<p class="normal">"It should, indeed," replied Chartley; and then, after a pause, he -added: "But it matters not, she is not to blame. More than once I have -seen something hanging on her lips as if seeking utterance but afraid -to venture forth. If I had told her what was growing upon my heart, -she would have spoken."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Most likely," answered the woodman; "for hers is a heart very soon -seen through. 'Tis like a clear well, where one can trace all the -pebbles in the bottom--their shape, their colour, and if anything -obscures them, it is but a light ripple from a passing wind."</p> - -<p class="normal">"And yet she said but now that she had so love," replied Chartley, -moodily.</p> - -<p class="normal">"And that is true also," answered the woodman; "contracted in infancy, -how can she love a man she does not even recollect?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Well, 'tis no matter," answered Chartley; "the vision of happiness -will pass away, and it is something to have served, protected, -comforted her. Hark, the man is drawing near with a low and solemn -dirge, as if we were all to be slain and buried ere noon. There is the -dawn too, coming in the east, if I mistake not. Let us go on, and stop -the piper's melancholy squeaking."</p> - -<p class="normal">"'Tis but a sign he is not followed," replied the woodman, detaining -him. "Let us stay here, we might miss him in some of the turnings; I -will whistle, however, to show him that we hear, and then perhaps he -will stop."</p> - -<p class="normal">But the inveterate piper droned on, till he was within sight of the -gates, and Chartley and the woodman went down to meet him.</p> - -<p class="normal">"What news, what news?" they both demanded, eagerly.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Bad tidings," answered the piper, shaking his head. "First, my lord, -you owe me a gold angel."</p> - -<p class="normal">"There are two," answered Chartley, sharply. "Now for the rest."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Why then, it is but this," answered Sam. "The rogue, Catesby, has -come down with five hundred horse. He has sent on fifty to arrest your -lordship at Hinckley, before you are out of bed in the morning. The -rest he keeps here to surround the wood, while good Sir John Godscroft -searches every nook and corner of it and the old castle and all, to -find the bishop and any one who may have aided in his escape from the -abbey. They will not leave any stone unturned, depend upon it; and -they swear by their beards, God bless them, that every one who has had -any hand in it is a foul traitor, worthy of gibbet and post."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Then are we in a strait indeed," exclaimed Chartley; "for with four -hundred and fifty men to watch the wood, and two hundred to search it, -there is but little chance of escape. I care not for myself, woodman, -if you can but save the lady without scaith or ill construction."</p> - -<p class="normal">"On my life 'tis that that puzzles me most," answered Boyd; "there may -be help at hand, for I have provided some. Your own people, too, will -be back soon, for I have sent for them; but we have no force to cope -with such a number."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Nay," answered Chartley; "give me but ten men, and I will break -through their line, at least so as to lodge the lady in the abbey. -Then as for my own fate, fall what may, I little care."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Ten men you can have," answered the woodman; "but tell me first, my -good lord, what you intend to do?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Make at once for the nearest door of the abbey," replied Chartley. -"Their line must be thin around the wood, and on that side, perhaps, -the thinnest. Grant that we fall in with some of Catesby's men, as -most like we shall, we can make head against them for a time, and -insure the lady's reaching the gates of the abbey."</p> - -<p class="normal">"It were better," said Boyd, after thinking for a moment, "that while -one part keep the king's men engaged, two or three of the others carry -the lady quickly across the dell to the little gate. We have no other -chance that I see; but remember, my good lord, that you will be -overpowered and taken to a certainty."</p> - -<p class="normal">"What matters it?" exclaimed Chartley. "Even were one to act on mere -calculation, 'tis better to lose one than to lose two. Here we should -be both taken together, there we insure her escape. Let us waste no -more time in talking. How can we get the men?"</p> - -<p class="normal">The woodman threw his eye over the edge of the hill on which they were -standing, and replied, "You can have them at once." Then putting his -horn to his lips, he blew a low and peculiar note; and, in a moment -after, several men were seen running up from amongst the trees and -bushes which covered the descent. "We must lose no time," said the -woodman, "but forward with all speed, or we shall have the search -begun and be cut off. You bring the lady forth while I speak to the -men."</p> - -<p class="normal">Chartley turned to go; but, pausing suddenly, he said: "Remember, my -good friend, it is on you that I rely to bear the lady safe to the -abbey, while I engage the troopers. Think not on my safety for one -moment; but take some whom you can trust, and away with her at once. I -would fain have seen her safe myself, but it must not be. The dream is -at an end."</p> - -<p class="normal">The woodman gazed at him with a well-pleased smile, which made his -stern countenance look bright and sweet; and Chartley, without waiting -for further words, hurried away into the ruin.</p> - -<p class="normal">"There goes a nobleman indeed," said the woodman; and then, striding -forward, he met the men who were advancing upon the hill.</p> - -<p class="normal">"How many men have you got, David?" he continued, addressing the first -man who came up.</p> - -<p class="normal">"There are twelve of us," replied the man. "Three are wanting. I -suppose they have stopped them. Most of us slipped through unseen; and -the rest got through in different places, on telling their calling."</p> - -<p class="normal">A short consultation then ensued, which, brief as it was, had hardly -ceased when Chartley again came forth, bringing Iola with him. Her -face was pale, and she was evidently agitated and alarmed; but she did -not suffer fear or hesitation to embarrass in any degree the -proceedings of the others. Holding tight by Chartley's arm, with the -woodman and one of his men close behind them, and preceded and -followed by the rest, divided into two bodies, she was led on, through -one of the narrowest paths, down to the bottom of the little rise on -which the castle stood. They then crossed a somewhat wider road, -running by the bank and fountain I have mentioned before, and then -plunged again into the thicker part of the wood. Hardly had they done -so however, when the sound of a horn was heard upon the right; and, -turning back his head towards the woodman, Chartley said in a low -voice, "The hunt has begun."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Wary, wary," said the woodman. "Keep a sharp ear there in front, and -halt in time."</p> - -<p class="normal">With a somewhat slower step they walked on for a couple of hundred -yards further; and then the two men at the head of their little -column suddenly stopped, one of them holding up his hand as a signal -to those behind. The sun had not actually risen; but yet the grey -morning light had spread over the whole sky; and, though the path was -somewhat dark and gloomy from the thick copse on either side and the -manifold naked branches of the trees overhead, yet, the motions of -each of the little party could be seen by the rest. All stopped at once; -and a dead silence succeeded amongst themselves, through which, the -moment after, the sound of voices and footsteps could be heard, at the -distance of a few paces from them. The woodman laid his finger on his -lips and listened; but there was a smile upon his face which gave -courage to Iola, although the sounds seemed to be approaching fast. So -distinctly were they heard indeed, the moment after, that it seemed as -if a space of not more than five or six yards was left between the -fugitives and the searchers; and Iola clung closer to Chartley's arm, -and looked up in his face, as if asking what would come next. He did -not venture to offer any consolation, but by a look; and still the steps -and the voices came nearer.</p> - -<p class="normal">"'Tis as thick as a hay stack," one man was heard to say to another, -apparently close by.</p> - -<p class="normal">"And we are set to find a needle in the pottle of hay," replied his -companion. "Why he may lurk here without our finding him all day."</p> - -<p class="normal">"But if we find him we shall get a good reward," replied the first.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Do not reckon upon that, or you will cheat yourself," said his -companion, in a scoffing tone. "At the best, the reward is but a -thousand marks. Then Sir John takes two tenths, and the captain one -tenth, and the other head men two tenths more amongst them, so that -there are but five hundred marks left for two hundred men, even if -Catesby and his people were out of the way, and, depend upon it, -they'll share, so there wont be ten shillings a man."</p> - -<p class="normal">"What a head you have for reckoning," said the other; "but go on. I -wonder where, in hell's name, we are going. Can you see the castle?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Not I," answered the other; "but we must follow this path to the end -any way. There goes the horn that is to lead us."</p> - -<p class="normal">And they seemed to proceed upon their way.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Now, forward," said the woodman, in a low voice; and moving rapidly -on, they came to a large holly bush which concealed the mouth of the -little foot track they were following from the very path which the -soldiers had taken. Cutting straight across it, they entered a -somewhat thinner and more open part of the wood, from which the castle -was occasionally visible, so that any one above could have seen them -without much difficulty; but it extended not far; and the danger was -soon past.</p> - -<p class="normal">"I know where wo are now," said Iola, in a whisper. "We are close to -the cell."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Hush!" said the woodman. "Hush!" But the unfortunate piper, who was -in the rear, stumbled over the root of a tree, and his pipes emitted a -melancholy groan.</p> - -<p class="normal">The woodman turned, and shook his fist at him; and the whole party -halted to listen. No sound was heard however; and turning away to the -right, by a gentle descent, they approached the spot where the forest -stretched furthest into the valley.</p> - -<p class="normal">"I will go forward and look out for a moment," said the woodman at -length, speaking to Chartley in a low voice. "As ill luck would have -it, I had the brushwood on the verge cut down last autumn, to prevent -rascals lurking about there, little thinking I should need it myself;" -and creeping on from bush to bush and tree to tree, he at length got a -view along the whole side of the wood fronting the slope on which the -abbey stood. It was no pleasant sight that he beheld; for, at a -distance of not more than a hundred and fifty yards apart, were -stationed horsemen, watching every point of the wood. With his right -shoulder resting against a tree, and secured on the left by a thick -holly, he remained for about a minute, carefully examining the -proceedings of the soldiery. They moved not from the spots at which -they had been placed; and the path which he had been hitherto -following, wandering in and out amongst the trees upon the slope, -passed at some little distance between two banks, till it reached the -bottom of the descent, not a hundred and fifty yards from the little -postern gate in the abbey wall, over which hung the bell profanely -called the Baby of St. Clare.</p> - -<p class="normal">Boyd saw at once, from the distance at which the men were stationed, -that there was a great chance of the whole party reaching the entrance -of the lane between the two banks, before more than two of the -soldiers could come up with them; and that if this were effected, Iola -at least was safe.</p> - -<p class="normal">After finishing his contemplation quietly, the woodman returned to his -party in the same manner as he had left them, taking perhaps even -greater precautions, and stooping almost to his knees, lest his great -height should carry his head above the bushes. When he reached the -others he commanded, rather than explained, saying--</p> - -<p class="normal">"Now, all upon the path as fast as possible. Robin lead the way to the -passage between the banks. Then follow me, wherever I go, and guard me -from attack; let all the rest halt at the mouth of the lane, and keep -it with a strong hand against pursuers. Now on! Quick, quick!"</p> - -<p class="normal">The whole party rushed forward, except the piper, (who remained under -cover of the wood,) much in the same order as that in which they had -hitherto proceeded. Iola was hurried on in the midst, with her heart -beating and her head confused, yet gazing round from time to time, and -catching with a quick and hurried glance the scene which immediately -followed. She beheld the horsemen watching the forest; but, till she -had nearly reached the edge of the woodland, the party, which bore her -along amongst them, did not seem to attract any attention. Then, -however, the two soldiers on each side put spurs to their horses, with -a loud shout; and she felt herself instantly caught up in the arms of -the woodman, carried along with extraordinary swiftness down the -descent, and into the hollow between the two banks.</p> - -<p class="normal">Iola gazed back over her bearer's shoulder; and the last sight she saw -was the party of foresters occupying the mouth of the lane, while -three or four armed horsemen were galloping upon them; and Chartley, -with his drawn sword in his hand and the Arab beside him, stood a -little in advance of his companions, as if to meet the soldiers at -their first onset. They were close upon him; and, with a painful -shudder, she closed her eyes. When she opened them, the bank hid the -scene from her view; and the next moment she heard the bell of the -abbey ring sharply.</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h3>CHAPTER XVIII.</h3> -<br> - -<p class="normal">"Keep back, my men!" exclaimed Chartley, as the two first soldiers -rode down towards him; "keep back, or the peril be upon your own -heads."</p> - -<p class="normal">The foremost of the pursuing party put his horn to his lips, and blew -a loud long blast, drawing up his horse at the same time.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Yield you, yield you!" he exclaimed, turning then to the young -nobleman; "'tis vain to resist. We have men enough to take you all, -were you told ten times over."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Call your officer then!" cried Chartley, "I yield not to a churl."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Ay, and in the mean time the others escape," cried the man; "that -shall not be, by ----! Round, round! Over the banks," he continued, -straining his voice to the utmost, to reach the ears of his -companions, who were galloping down, "cut them off from the abbey!"</p> - -<p class="normal">But the others did not hear or understand the cry, and rode on towards -Chartley and the rest, whom they reached, just as Iola was borne to -the postern gate.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Hold back, sir!" shouted the young nobleman; "mark me, every one. I -resist not lawful authority! But marauders I will resist to the death. -Show me a warrant--bring me an officer, and I yield at once, but not -to men I know not. As to those who are gone to the abbey, you can -yourselves see that they are but a lady and two of the foresters to -guard her--"</p> - -<p class="normal">"The lady is safe within the gates, noble sir," said one of the -woodmen, speaking over his shoulder.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Thank God for that!" cried Chartley.</p> - -<p class="normal">"We are not seeking for women," answered the soldier, "but there are -two men there; and we will know who they are."</p> - -<p class="normal">"They are coming back. They are coming back," cried one of the men -from behind.</p> - -<p class="normal">The soldiers perceived the fact at the same moment; but their number -was now becoming so great, one horseman riding down after another, -that they seemed to meditate an attack upon the little pass which -Chartley defended; and some of them rode up the bank, to take the -party in the flank.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Mark you well, good men," said the young nobleman, raising his voice -to its highest tones; "if one stroke be struck, the consequences be -upon your own heads. I refuse not to surrender to a proper warrant, or -any officer of the king; but, as a peer of England, I will not give up -my sword to any simple soldier who asks it; and if I am attacked, I -will defend myself to the uttermost."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Halt, halt!" cried one of the men, who seemed to have some command -over the rest. "Ride away for Sir William Catesby. He is on the road -just round the corner."</p> - -<p class="normal">"There he comes, I think," cried another of the soldiers, pointing to -a large party, riding at a rapid rate down the course of the little -stream.</p> - -<p class="normal">"No no," exclaimed the other. "I know not who those are. Quick, spurs -to your horse, and away for Sir William. These may be companions we -shall not like. He is round the corner of the wood, I tell you."</p> - -<p class="normal">The man rode off at full speed; and the soldiers who were left drew -somewhat closer round the little party in the mouth of the lane, while -one or two were detached to the right and left, to cut off the woodman -and the man who had accompanied him, in case they endeavoured to -escape on either side.</p> - -<p class="normal">Boyd, however, confirmed to walk slowly and quietly down from the -abbey, towards the group he had left below, casting his eyes from one -side to the other, and marking all that was taking place, till at -length, descending between the banks again, the scene upon the open -ground was shut out from his eyes, and he could only see his own -foresters, Lord Chartley, and the party in front.</p> - -<p class="normal">A few steps brought him to the side of the young nobleman; and he -gazed at the ring of soldiers round the mouth of the lane, with a -smile, saying,</p> - -<p class="normal">"What do these gentlemen want?" and then added: "Here are your friends -and servants, coming down from Hinckley, my lord, so if you have a -mind to make a Thermopylæ of the lane, you may do it."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Not I," answered Chartley. "Would to God, most learned woodman, that -the time when Englishmen spill Englishmen's blood were at an end. -Besides, I could not make it a Thermopylæ, for the only Orientals on -the field are on my side;" and he glanced his eye to the good Arab, -who stood gazing upon the scene, with his arms folded on his chest, -apparently perfectly indifferent to all that was taking place, but -ready to strike whenever his master told him.</p> - -<p class="normal">While this brief conversation was going on, the troop which had been -seen coming down on the right approached nearer and nearer; and at the -same time a gentleman, followed by eight or ten horse, came up from -the road which entered the wood opposite to the abbey green, riding at -a light canter over the green sward that covered the hill side. The -two parties reached the end of the lane very nearly at the same -moment, Catesby indeed the first; and his shrewd, keen, plausible -countenance, notwithstanding the habitual command which he possessed -over its expressions, displayed some sort of trouble at seeing so -large a body of men, over whom he had no controul.</p> - -<p class="normal">"What is this, my good lord?" shouted Sir William Arden to Chartley, -before Catesby could speak. "We got news of your jeopardy, strangely -enough, and have come down at once to help you."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I have ordered my knave to bring you a furred dressing-gown, and a -bottle of essence of maydew," cried Sir Edward Hungerford, with a -light laugh; "supposing you must be cold, with your forest lodging, -and your complexion sadly touched with the frosty air. But what does -the magnanimous Sir William Catesby do, cantering abroad at this hour -of the morning? Beware of rheums, Sir William, beware of rheum! Don't -you know that the early morning air is evil for the eyes, and makes a -man short-breathed?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"This is no time for bantering, sirs," exclaimed Catesby. "Are you -prepared to resist the royal authority? If so, I have but to order one -blast upon a trumpet, and you will be surrounded by seven hundred -men."</p> - -<p class="normal">"We come to resist no lawful authority, but merely to help a friend," -replied Sir Wilhelm Arden; "and, in doing so, I care not whose head I -split, if it comes in my way."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Peace, peace, Arden," cried Chartley, "Let me answer him. What do you -want with me, Sir William? and why am I assailed by your men, if they -are yours, while peaceably pursuing my way?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Pooh, pooh, my lord," answered Catesby. "Do not assume -unconsciousness. Where is the bishop? Will you give him up?--or, if -you like it better, the friar who rode with you from Tamworth -yesterday?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"As for a bishop," answered Chartley, laughing, "I know of no bishops; -and as for the friar, if he be a bishop, it is not my fault; I did not -make him one. Friar I found him, and friar I left him. He remained -behind, somewhat sick, at the abbey."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Then what do you here, my lord?" demanded Catesby, "tarrying behind -in the forest, while all your company have gone forward?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"In truth, good Sir William," answered the young nobleman; "whenever I -am brought to give an account of all my actions, you shall not be my -father confessor. I will have a more reverend man. But you have not -yet answered my question; why I am menaced here by these good -gentlemen in steel jackets?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"You shall have an answer presently," replied Catesby; and, stooping -down over his saddle bow, he conversed for a moment or two with one of -the men who had been first upon the ground, and who now stood -dismounted by his side. Then raising his head again, he said: "There -were three people left your company, my lord, a moment or two since. -Two have returned, I am told, and one was received into the abbey. Who -was that person?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"You must ask those who went with her," replied Chartley. "They have -known her longer than I have, and can answer better. My acquaintance -with her"--he added, as he saw a meaning smile come upon Sir Edward -Hungerford's lip--"my acquaintance with her has been very short, and -is very slight. I have acted as was my devoir towards a lady, and have -nought farther to say upon the subject."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Then your would have me believe it was a woman," rejoined Catesby.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Ay, was it, master," answered the woodman, standing forward and -speaking in a rough tone; "or rather, as the lord says, a lady. She -was sent out by the lady abbess, as the custom sometimes is, to the -cell of St. Magdalene, there upon the hill; and when she would have -gone back, she found the houses on the green in a flame, and all the -wood surrounded by your soldiers. I wish I had known it in time, and I -would have contrived to get her back again, in spite of all your -plundering thieves. But the king shall know of all you have done, if I -walk on foot to Leicester to tell him."</p> - -<p class="normal">"If it was a lady, pray, goodman, who was the lady?" demanded Sir -Edward Hungerford, laughing lightly.</p> - -<p class="normal">"What is that to you?" exclaimed the woodman, turning sharply upon -him. "If she was a lady, forsooth!--I might well say when I look at -you, 'If you are a man,' for of that there may be some doubt; but -nobody could look at her face, and ask if she were a lady."</p> - -<p class="normal">A low laugh ran round, which heightened the colour in Sir Edward -Hungerford's smooth cheek; but Catesby, after speaking again to the -man beside him in a low tone, fixed his eyes upon the woodman, and -demanded--</p> - -<p class="normal">"Who are you, my good friend, who put yourself so forward?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"I am head woodman of the abbey," answered Boyd, "and master forester; -and by the charter of King Edward III. I am empowered to stop and turn -back, or apprehend and imprison, any one whom I may find roaming the -forest, except upon the public highway. I should have done so before -this hour, if I had had force enough; for we have more vagabonds in -the forest than I like. But I shall soon have bills and bows enough at -my back; for I have sent, to raise the country round. Such things as -have been done this night shall not happen within our meres, and go -unpunished;" and he crossed his arms upon his broad chest and gazed -sternly in Catesby's face.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Upon my life you are bold!" exclaimed Richard's favourite. "Do you -know to whom you are speaking?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"I neither know nor care," answered the woodman; "but I think I shall -be able to describe you pretty well to the king; for he will not -suffer you, nor any other leader of hired troops, to burn innocent -men's houses and spoil the property of the church."</p> - -<p class="normal">Catesby looked somewhat aghast; for the charge, he knew, put in such -terms, would not be very palatable to Richard.</p> - -<p class="normal">"I burned no houses, knave," he said, with a scoff.</p> - -<p class="normal">"'Tis the same thing if your men did," answered the woodman. "You are -all of one herd, that is clear."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Shall I strike the knave down, sir?" demanded one of the fierce -soldiery.</p> - -<p class="normal">"I should like to see thee try," said the woodman, drawing his -tremendous axe from his girdle; but Catesby exclaimed--</p> - -<p class="normal">"Hold, hold!" and Chartley exclaimed--</p> - -<p class="normal">"Well, sir, an answer to my question. We are but wasting time, and -risking feud, by longer debating these matters here. For your conduct -to others this night, for the destruction of the property of the -church, and the wrongs inflicted on innocent men, either by your -orders or with your connivance, you will of course be made responsible -elsewhere; but I demand to know why I, a peer of England, going in -peaceable guise, without weapons of war; am pursued and surrounded, I -may say, by your soldiery?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"That question is soon answered," replied Catesby. "I might indeed -say, that no one could tell that you were a peer of England when you -were found a-foot walking with foresters, and such like people, below -your own degree. But in one word, my lord, I am ordered to apprehend -your lordship, for aiding and comforting a proclaimed traitor. Do you -surrender to the king's authority? Or must I summon a sufficient force -to compel obedience?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"I surrender at once, of course, to the king's authority," answered -Chartley; "and knowing, Sir William, your place and favour with the -king, will not even demand to see the warrant. But I trust my servants -will be allowed to ride with me to Leicester, where I appeal the -immediate consideration of my case to the king himself."</p> - -<p class="normal">"So be it, my lord," answered Catesby; "but if I might advise for your -own good, you would not bring so many men with badges of livery under -the king's eyes; for you know the law upon that subject, and that such -displays are strictly prohibited."</p> - -<p class="normal">Chartley laughed.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Good faith!" he said; "I am not the thoughtless boy you take me for, -Sir William. I have a license under king Edward's hand for these same -badges and liveries, which has never been revoked. Methinks it will -pass good even now."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Be it as you will, my lord," replied Catesby. "I advised you but as a -friend. Nay, more; if you can find any other gentleman to be bound -with you for your appearance at Leicester, within three days, I will -take your lordship's parole to deliver yourself in that city to the -king's will. I do not wish to pass any indignity upon a gentleman of -worth, though lacking somewhat of discretion mayhap."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I'll be his bail," cried Sir William Arden at once. "I am a fool -perhaps for my pains, as he indeed is a fool who is bail for any man; -but the lad won't break his word, although leg bail is the best bail -that he could have, or any one indeed, in this good kingdom of -England, where accusations are received as proofs, and have been for -the last thirty years, whichever house was on the throne. There was -nought to choose between them in that respect."</p> - -<p class="normal">"You should be more careful, Sir William," answered Catesby with a -grim smile. "The house which is on the throne is always the best. -However, I take your pledge, and that of Lord Chartley; and now I will -back to my post, taking it for granted, my lord, that this was really -a woman who was with you, and that, even in such a case as this, a lie -would not sully your lips."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I am not a politician, Sir William," replied Chartley, somewhat -bitterly; "so I have no excuse for lying. The person who just now -entered the abbey was a lady, seemingly not twenty years of age; and I -pledge you my word of honour, that her chin never bore a beard, nor -her head received the tonsure, so that she is assuredly neither man, -friar, nor bishop."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Give you good day, then," said Catesby; and turning his horse he rode -away, followed by the soldiers, who resumed their post around the -wood.</p> - -<p class="normal">"There goes a knave," said the woodman aloud, as Richard's favourite -trotted down the slope. "Had it not needed two or three men to guard -you, my good lord, your parole would have been little worth in the -Cat's eyes."</p> - -<p class="normal">"On my life, Boyd, you had better beware of him," rejoined Lord -Chartley. "He does not easily forgive; and you have spoken somewhat -plainly."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Humph! I have not been the only one to speak my mind this day," said -the woodman. "I did not think there was anything in the shape of a -lord, at the court of England, who would venture to show such scorn -for a minion--unless he was on the eve of falling."</p> - -<p class="normal">"No hope of such a thing in this case," answered Chartley; "he is too -serviceable to be dispensed with. But now I must have my horse. By -good fortune, 'tis on the other side of the wood; so they will let us -get it without taking it for a bishop."</p> - -<p class="normal">"And who is this bishop they are seeking?" asked Sir William Arden, as -he walked down on foot at Chartley's side, by a somewhat circuitous -path, to the cottage of the woodman.</p> - -<p class="normal">"The only bishop whose name is proclaimed," replied Chartley, avoiding -a direct answer to the question; "is Doctor Morton, bishop of Ely; but -I trust and believe that he is far out of their reach. However, I -would have you take care, Boyd," he continued, turning towards the -woodman, who was following; "and, if you should meet with the bishop -in the wood, give him no help; for these men will visit it savagely on -the head of any one against whom they can prove the having succoured -him--I would fain hear how this hunting ends," he continued; "for I -have seldom seen such a curious chase. Can you not give me intimation -at Leicester?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"And pray add," continued Sir Edward Hungerford, in a low tone, "some -information concerning the sweet Lady Iola. Her beautiful eyes," he -added, as Chartley turned somewhat sharply towards him, "have haunted -me all night, like a melodious song which dwells in our ears for days -after we have heard it."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Or a bottle of essence," said the woodman, "that makes a man smell -like a civet cat for months after it is expended."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Drown me all puppies," exclaimed Arden. "A young cat that goes -straying about with her eyes but half open, and her weak legs far -apart, is more tolerable than one of these orange flowers of the -court, with their smart sayings, which they mistake for wit;" and -imitating, not amiss, the peculiar mode of talking of Hungerford and -his class, he went on, "Gad ye good den, my noble lord! Fore Heaven, a -pretty suit, and well devised, but that the exceeding quaintness of -the trimming is worthy of a more marvellous furniture.--Pshaw! I am -sick of their mewing; and if we have not a war soon, to mow down some -of these weeds, the land will be full of nettles."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Take care they don't sting, Arden," said Sir Edward Hungerford.</p> - -<p class="normal">The other knight looked at him from head to foot, and walked on after -Lord Chartley, with a slight smile curling his lip.</p> - -<p class="normal">The party met no impediment on the way to the woodman's cottage. -Chartley's horses were soon brought forth; and after lingering for a -moment, to add a private word or two to Boyd, the young nobleman -prepared to mount. Before he did so, however, he took the woodman's -hand and shook it warmly, much to the surprise of Sir Edward -Hungerford; and then the whole company resumed the road to Hinckley, -passing a number of the patroles round the wood as they went, and -hearing shouts and cries and notes upon the horn, which only called a -smile upon Chartley's lips.</p> - -<p class="normal">When they had passed the wood, however, and were riding on through the -open country, Sir Edward Hungerford fell somewhat behind, to talk with -a household tailor, whom he entertained, upon the device of a new sort -of hose, which he intended to introduce; while Sir William Arden, -naturally a taciturn man, rode on by Chartley's side, almost in -silence. The young nobleman himself was now very grave. The excitement -was over. All that had passed that night belonged to the past. It was -a picture hung up in the gallery of memory; and he looked upon the -various images it contained as one does upon the portraits of dead -friends. He saw Iola, as she had sat beside him at the abbey in gay -security. He felt the trembling of her hand upon his arm, in the hour -of danger. Her cheek seemed to rest upon his shoulder again, as it had -done, when, weary and exhausted, she had slept overpowered by slumber. -Her balmy breath seemed once more to fan his cheek. The time since he -had first known her was but very short; but yet he felt that it had -been too long for him. That, in that brief space, things had -been born that die not--new sensations--immortal offspring of the -heart--children of fate that live along with us on earth, and go with -us to immortality.</p> - -<p class="normal">"She cannot be mine," he thought. "She is plighted to another whom she -knows not--loves not." He would fain have recalled those hours. He -would fain have wiped out the sensations they had produced. He -resolved to try--to think of other things--to forget--to be what he -had been before. Vain, vain hopes and expectations! Alas, he sought an -impossibility. No one can ever be what he was before. Each act of life -changes the man--takes something, gives something--leaves him -different from what he was. He may alter; but he cannot go back. What -he was is a memory, and never can be a reality again; and more -especially is this the case with the light careless heart of youth. -Pluck a ripe plum from the tree--touch it as tenderly as you will; the -bloom is wiped away; and, try all the arts you can, you can never -restore that bloom again, nor give the fruit the hue it had before. -Happy those buoyant and successful spirits who can look onward at -every step, from life's commencement to its close, and are never -called upon to sit down by the weary way side of being, and long for -the fair fields and meadows they have passed, never to behold again.</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h3>CHAPTER XIX.</h3> -<br> - -<p class="normal">Clouds roll over the sky; the large rain drops descend; the lightning -flashes; the thunder rolls along the verge of heaven; darkness and -tempests rage above; and ruin and desolation seem to reign below. They -have their hour, and pass away. Often the clouds roll on to some -distant bourn, leaving the sky clear, the sun smiling brighter than -ever, the blades of grass gemmed with the diamond drops, the earth all -fresh, and the birds all singing. But there are other times, when, -although the fierceness of the tempest is over, the streaming deluge -suspended, the torch of the lightning quenched, and the angry voice of -the thunder hushed, a heavy boding cloud remains behind, hiding the -brightness of the face of heaven, and threatening fresh storms to -come.</p> - -<p class="normal">Thus it is too with the human heart. In the spring-tide of our -life--in those gay early years, when the merry rays of the sunshiny -heart dance gleam-like with the storms and clouds of life, the tempest -of passion or of sorrow is soon swept away, and the universe of the -heart resumes its brightness. But there comes a time when the storm -falling upon life's decline--I speak not of mere years, but at the -epoch of each man's destined change--the spirit cannot cast off the -shadow of the cloud, even when the eyes are dried, and the lightning -pang of anguish or the terror speaking thunder of retribution are -staid for the hour.</p> - -<p class="normal">Thus was it with Richard. His son, his only son, his beloved, was -gone. The fountain of hope and expectation was dried up. For him, and -for his future, destiny, he had laboured, and thought, and striven, -and calculated, and sinned, and offended God and man, and won a dark -and fearful renown, tainted a mother's fame, violated trust and -friendship, usurped the patrimony of the orphan, spurned every tie of -nature and affection, trampled upon gratitude, and imbrued his hands -in blood. Strange that the brightest and the purest of human -affections, when mingled in our nature with the darker and the more -violent passions, instead of mitigating their influence, should prompt -to deeper crimes, and plunge us into more overwhelming guiltiness--as -the most precious medicines, mingled chemically with some foreign -matter, will, is a moment, become the most dangerous poisons. He was -gone; the object of all his fond imaginings, his daily labours and his -nightly thoughts. The hopes that had been built up upon his life were -all thrown down. The line between the present and the future was -snapped asunder. The pang had been suffered--the terrible pang of the -rending of a strong manly heart from its closest ties and its dearest -expectations. The effect had been awful, terrible. It had for a time -unseated reason from a throne where she had ruled with sway almost -despotic. But that pang had been conquered. Reason had regained her -rule. The tempest of the heart had passed away, and had left the sky -calm--but not bright. No! Dull, dull, heavy, leaden, threatening, was -the aspect of all around. The pure light of day was extinguished, -never to dawn for him again; and all the light that was left came from -the dull torch of ambition.</p> - -<p class="normal">Richard sat in the room of the royal lodging at Leicester, where we -have before seen him. There was a gentleman by his side, with head -slightly bent, reading, from a long slip of paper, some notes of all -the different pieces of intelligence which had been received during -the day.</p> - -<p class="normal">"What next?" demanded the king, in a dull and almost inattentive, -tone.</p> - -<p class="normal">"The letter which your grace proposed to write to your royal -sister-in-law," replied the gentleman.</p> - -<p class="normal">Richard started, "Ay," he said, thoughtfully; "ay, it must be done;" -and, rubbing his temple gently with the fingers of his right hand, he -seemed to give himself up to meditation. After a short space of time, -it would appear, he partly forgot, if I may use such a term, the -presence of another; and he murmured words to himself, which he might -not have done had he been acutely conscious that they were overheard, -"Shall the son of Clarence succeed?" he asked himself, in a long -gloomy tone; "for him have I done all these things?--To make him King -of England? That fair inheritance, for which I have toiled and -laboured, and thought, and desired, and watched by night, and acted by -day, shall it be his?--No, no! And yet there is a fate that overrules -man's policy, and thwarts his best-devised schemes.--No child for me, -if Ann lives; and it all goes to another race.--What then?" And he -paused, and thought once more very deeply.</p> - -<p class="normal">The busy movements of his mind during that reverie who shall -scrutinize? But at length he said: "No, no! She was the love of my -youth, the partner of my early cares and joys.--No! Grief will soon do -its work on her. She is of that soft and fragile-hearted nature, which -crumbles at the first rude touch, like the brittle sandstone. I am of -granite, which the chisel may mark, but which no saw will touch--hard -and perdurable. We must bide the event. The canker is on the frail -flower, and it will fall soon enough! In the mean time, 'tis well to -be prepared;" and, turning to the man beside him, he added, "I will -write that letter with my own hand. Have a post ready by six this -evening. What next?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"The young Lord Chartley waits your grace's will, in ward," replied -the secretary; and, seeing that Richard seemed plunged in thought -again, he added, "suspected of aiding the escape of Morton, bishop of -Ely."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Ha!" cried Richard, with an angry start; "he shall--" But he paused -suddenly, laid his hand upon his brow for a moment or two, and then -added in a calmer tone, "No. He is a foolish boy. This man was his -tutor. We love those who were the guides and conductors of our youth. -But I will make sure of him. Give me those letters--No, not those, the -packet on the left;" and, having received what he demanded, he -examined the despatches carefully, and then said, "What next?"</p> - -<p class="normal">The secretary looked at the paper in his hand, and then replied:</p> - -<p class="normal">"Arnold Lord Calverly craves your highness's gracious sanction, to -complete the marriage already contracted between his niece, the Lady -Lola St. Leger, and the Lord Fulmer. He craves audience on this score, -and is, I believe, even now in the great hall below."</p> - -<p class="normal">Richard meditated for a moment or two.</p> - -<p class="normal">"He is a stanch and steady friend," he said at length; "yet, this Lord -Fulmer--I love him not. I doubt him. He is a man of high-toned -fantasies, and grave imaginations--moveable with the wind of passion, -and notions of what he believes fine thoughts. I love not your men of -emotions. Give me the man of firm calm deeds, who sets a mighty object -before him, and cleaves a way to it through all impediments. The -inheritance is large; his own power great; united, they may be -dangerous. But we must temporise and see. 'Tis wise to keep -expectation on the wing. When we have given all, we have no more to -give; and, by St. Paul, gratitude is a poor bond, compared with -desire.--But I must see the Lord Calverly. Go, give him admission. We -will hear the rest afterwards."</p> - -<p class="normal">The secretary departed; and Richard remained with his brow resting on -his hand, till a door again opened, and a stout elderly gentleman was -admitted, with an expression of countenance indicating no slight -opinion of his own importance, but no very great profundity of -intellect. The king instantly rose, and took him by the hand.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Welcome, welcome, my noble lord," he said. "You have come to me at a -moment of deep grief and pain; but your presence is none the less -acceptable, as, indeed, what can afford greater consolation than the -society of a true friend?"</p> - -<p class="normal">The cordiality with which he was received might have surprised any -other person than Arnold Lord Calverly; for Richard was not a man of a -cordial nature, and displayed little warmth of manner to any but his -mere familiar tools, or to those whom he intended to deceive or to -destroy. The worthy lord, how, ever, was quite satisfied that he -deserved the utmost kindness and consideration; and taking it for -granted that the monarch really received him joyfully, he proceeded to -comfort him with such common places as men of inferior intellect -mistake for the dicta of wisdom.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Alack, my lord the king," he said, "you have indeed suffered a great -deprivation. But, you know, this is merely to share the common fate of -all men, from which the king is no more exempt than the peasant. Death -respects not the young or the old, the high or the low. We are all -subject to his power; and, perhaps, those he takes soonest are the -happiest. I would have your highness consider what a troublous life it -is that man leads here below; and how many sorrows the young prince, -God rest his soul, may have escaped; and, in your own knowledge of -life, you will find consolation for his having lost it."</p> - -<p class="normal">"True, very true," replied Richard, with a grave and thoughtful look. -"That is sound philosophy, my dear lord, as indeed is all that you say -on all occasions. Yet one cannot help regretting, if not the poor -boy's release from earthly suffering, at least the extinction of one's -own succession, and especially where a crown is a part of the -heritage."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Nay, now, sire, in this you judge not altogether wisely," replied the -old nobleman. "Pardon my boldness in so speaking. But why should a man -desire to transmit his possessions to a child of his own, rather than -to the child of any other man. I speak in the abstract, mark me--I -speak in the abstract--for, if a man have children of his own, of -course he would rather that they succeeded. That's very natural. But -if he have none, why should he desire posterity? His eyes must be -closed before his child can take the succession. He cannot therefore -see the enjoyment of it by his child."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Very true," said Richard. "Very true."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Besides," continued Lord Calverly, "we cannot tell that our children -will use what we leave them better than the children of other men. It -is but a prejudice, my lord the king, to wish for posterity; and, -indeed, I are inclined to think that those men are happiest who have -never had any children."</p> - -<p class="normal">"If they have minds so full of philosophy as yours, my lord," answered -Richard; "and you can judge well, for you are yourself childless, and -yet happy in yourself."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Perfectly, your highness," replied Lord Calverly. "I would not change -with a patriarch. Indeed, the presence of children and our love for -them often betrays us into dangerous weaknesses, against which we -should guard with care, if Heaven should inflict them on us. I have -been always watchful--very watchful, your highness, against such -foibles. Even in the case of my niece, my poor brother's child, who -was left to my charge and guidance a mere infant; as soon as I found I -was becoming too fond of her, and that, when she was well I was too -careful of her, when she was ill I thought too much about her, I sent -her away at once to my sister, the abbess of St. Clare. Women's minds -being, weak, cannot be injured by such softnesses; but they suit ill -with a philosopher, a soldier, or a statesman. But it is upon this -subject that I came to speak with your highness."</p> - -<p class="normal">"What, regarding the abbess of St. Clare?" said Richard, with a start.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Of her presently," replied Lord Calverly; "but first of my niece. I -wish to crave your highness's permission to complete the marriage of -this little Iola with my friend, and the son of my friend, Arthur Lord -Fulmer."</p> - -<p class="normal">"You shall have it right willingly," replied Richard, in the -frankest tone possible. "It shall be drawn out in due form, and -receive our own sign manual. Can I refuse anything to so tried a -friend?--Nevertheless, my most dear lord, I will beseech you not to -proceed hastily," he continued with a significant nod of the head. -"Delay the marriage a little, at my request. We would be present at it -ourselves, I and the queen; and, moreover, I have intentions--I have -intentions----"</p> - -<p class="normal">He paused, looking in Lord Calverly's face, with a bland smile, and -then added: "Who knows what name you may be called upon to write, my -lord? It may not be Calverly then. Coronets will change their forms -sometimes; and we do not bind our brows always with the same cap. -Delay a little, delay a little! At the present moment sad thoughts -possess me, and I have not your philosophy to combat them. There are -many important matters to do. The succession to the crown must be -settled; and we shall need all your wise counsels, in graver things -than marriages and merrymakings. Delay a little, delay a little, my -right good friend."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Your highness is too gracious," replied Lord Calverly, with a shining -and radiant look. "Your commands are law but there is one other -subject I must bring before you, a matter touching your royal throne -and dignity."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Indeed!" exclaimed Richard. "What may that be?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"All men know, my royal lord," said the old nobleman, in an oratorical -tone, "that your highness's devout reverence for the church is not to -be questioned, that religion, as one may say, is not in you, as in -other men, a matter acquired by mere learning and meditation, but a -part and principle of your own royal nature. Now my sister, the abbess -of St. Clare of Atherston, whose conduct in her high charge has -deserved and received the praises of all men, and especially of our -holy father, has commissioned me to state to your highness, the fact, -that the abbey--an abbey of nuns be it remembered, filled with young -and delicate women, vowed to seclusion and prayer--was surrounded on -the night of Wednesday last by a body of rude soldiery, under the -command of one Sir John Godscroft, who, upon pretence of seeking for a -deserter, insisted upon admission, notwithstanding her warning that -the place was sanctuary. The whole building was searched; and not only -that, but the priest's house and many of the cottages on the green, -belonging to the servitors of the abbey, were burned to the ground."</p> - -<p class="normal">Richard's brow grew as black as night; and, setting his teeth hard -together, he rose and walked up and down the room, muttering to -himself--</p> - -<p class="normal">"This must be repressed. This must be repressed."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Let your highness conceive," persisted Lord Calverly, following him a -step or two behind, "only conceive what a condition these poor nuns -were in, roused out of bed by these rude men, in the middle of the -night."</p> - -<p class="normal">A grim smile came upon the king's handsome face; and he replied--</p> - -<p class="normal">"Grey gowns are soon put on, my lord. Nevertheless this shall be -looked into severely--Ha! Let me see--The abbey of St. Clare;" and, -taking some papers from the table, he ran his eye hastily over them, -and then exclaimed, with a frowning brow, "It is so! 'Twas not a -deserter whom they sought, my lord, but a traitor; no pitiful trooper -fled from his colours, but Morton, bishop of Ely, the instigator of -Buckingham, the counsellor of Dorset, the friend and confidant of -Richmond."</p> - -<p class="normal">"But, my lord the king, the abbey is sanctuary," replied Lord -Calverly; "and--"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Were it God's altar, with his hand upon the horn, I would tear that -man from it," thundered Richard, his whole countenance working with -passion.</p> - -<p class="normal">The moment after he cast himself into his chair, and covered his eyes -with his hands, while the pompous old nobleman stood as one -thunderstruck before him. After a dead silence of nearly a minute, the -king looked up again, and the cloud had passed away from his brow.</p> - -<p class="normal">"I have been moved, my lord," he said. "I have been moved. This man, -this Morton, is my deadliest enemy, a reviler, a calumniator, the -stirrer of every trouble in the realm; and he has escaped me. -Doubtless it was not your good sister's fault; and even if it were, -these men have exceeded their commission. I will have no such acts of -violence within this kingdom. Rich and poor, strong and weak, shall -know that the sword of justice is not trusted to my hands in vain. Nor -will I suffer my name and my service to be used as pretexts for acts -so criminal. It shall be inquired into and justice done."</p> - -<p class="normal">He paused, casting down his eyes; and Lord Calverly, frightened out of -his wits at the storm he had raised, was retreating towards the door, -when Richard called him again, saying--</p> - -<p class="normal">"Stay, stay. I may have a charge to give you, my good lord. A very -noble gentleman brought up in the court--I may say under my own -eye--has somewhat failed in his duty. To what extent I know not yet. I -would fain not deal with him harshly; for he is young and rash, and -lately come from foreign lands, so that he may not know the full -extent of his fault. I will examine him however in your presence. If I -find he has acted with malignant purpose, he shall go to York for -trial. If it be but a rash prank of youth he has committed, although -it galled me somewhat closely, I will place him in your lordship's -ward, assigning you one third of his revenues while he remains there."</p> - -<p class="normal">As he spoke he rose, and called in one of the attendants saying, -briefly--</p> - -<p class="normal">"Summon Lord Chartley hither."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I trust he may clear himself in your highness's opinion," said Lord -Calverly, while the attendant proceeded to obey the king's commands. -"I have heard him highly spoken of as one more than ordinarily -learned, and a complete master of exercises. Good Lord, I have often -patted his head as a boy; and such a curly head as it was too, all -wavy and silky, like a Spanish dog's. I little thought it would be -filled with philosophy."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Perhaps some slipped in from the tips of your fingers," said Richard, -with a slightly sarcastic smile; and in a moment or two after the door -of the cabinet opened.</p> - -<p class="normal">With a free light step, though a somewhat grave countenance for him, -Chartley entered the king's presence, and advanced to the side of the -table, opposite to that at which Richard was placed. The king gazed at -him, not sternly, but with that fixed, attentive, unwinking eye, which -is very difficult for conscious guilt to bear.</p> - -<p class="normal">Nevertheless Chartley sustained it firmly; and, after maintaining -silence for a full minute, with his lips compressed, Richard said--</p> - -<p class="normal">"I have sent for you, my lord, because there are heavy charges against -you."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Will your highness state them?" said the young nobleman. "I will -answer them at once boldly and truly."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I will," answered Richard. "The first is--and all the rest are -secondary to that--that you have aided and comforted, contrary to our -proclamation, a known and avowed traitor, Morton, bishop of Ely; that -you took him in your train disguised as a friar, and carried him with -you from Tamworth to the abbey of St. Clare of Atherston, for the -purpose of facilitating his escape, well knowing him to be a traitor. -How say you? Is this charge true?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"In part, my lord the king," replied Chartley; "but in part also it is -false."</p> - -<p class="normal">"In what part," demanded Richard.</p> - -<p class="normal">"In that part which alleges I knew him to be a traitor," replied -Chartley, "and in that which implies that I had seen said did know -your royal proclamation. I never saw it, nor knew the terms thereof, -till yesterday; nor did I know or believe that the bishop was a -traitor. Yet let me not say one word that can deceive. I was well -aware that he had incurred your highness' displeasure; but on what -grounds I was not informed."</p> - -<p class="normal">"And, knowing it, you aided his escape?" said Richard sternly.</p> - -<p class="normal">"I did, my lord," replied Chartley; "but, if you will hear me speak a -few words, I may say something in my own excuse. I never gave you -cause before, wittingly or willingly, to doubt my loyalty. I have -trafficked with none of your personal enemies, nor with those of your -royal estate. I have taken no part in plots or conspiracies; but this -was a very different case. I found the friend, the guide, the -instructor of my youth, flying from danger; and my first thought was -to succour him. I know, my lord the king, that I have put my head in -peril by so doing; but what man would consider such peril to save a -father? and this man I looked upon as a second father. I will ask you, -sire, if you would not have done a hundred times as much, to rescue -the noble duke of York?--I loved Morton as much."</p> - -<p class="normal">He touched upon a tender point--perhaps the only really tender point -in Richard's heart. There are spots in the waste of memory ever -green--according to the beautiful figure of the poet--oases in the -desert of life. The burning sun of ambition cannot parch them, the -nipping frost of eager avarice cannot wither them. The palm tree of -early affection shades them for ever; the refreshing fountains of -first love keep them ever verdant. They are few with most men; for all -bright and beautiful things are few; but rarely as there a heart so -rugged in its nature, so scorched by earthly passion, or so faded from -dull indulgence, as not to have one (if not more) of those spots of -brightness, which, when the eye of remembrance lights upon it, -refreshes the spirit with a vision of the sweet calm joys of youth. -The memory of his great father, and of the love which he had borne -him, was the purest, perhaps, the only pure thing for Richard, in all -the treasury of the past; and he felt the allusion with sensations, -such as he had not experienced for many a long year. They were tender, -deep, almost too deep; and, turning away his head, he stretched out -his hand with a gesture, which seemed to command the speaker to stop.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Pardon me, your highness," said Chartley, seeing the emotions he had -aroused, and then was silent.</p> - -<p class="normal">Richard remained musing for several minutes. His mind was busy with -the past; but he had the peculiar faculty of all great and resolute -spirits, that of casting from him rapidly all impressions but those of -the present. He looked up again; and it was evident that the emotion -was at an end. Still it would seem that it had produced some effect in -its passage, for his next words were in a milder tone.</p> - -<p class="normal">"I am willing, my lord," he said, "to believe that you have acted -indiscreetly, but without evil intentions. I will make allowance for -youth, and for affection; but still, this must not go altogether -unpunished. Are you willing to abide by my decision?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Needs must, my lord the king," replied Chartley, almost gaily. "I am -in your hand, and it is a strong one."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Nay!" answered the king. "You have a choice, if you like it better. I -can send you for trial by your peers."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Good faith, no!" cried Chartley. "That were worse a thousand-fold. In -a word, sire, I know my danger. Ignorance, youth, friendship, were no -defence before the stubborn rigour of the law. You have the power to -mitigate it, and, I believe, the heart. I leave my cause with you."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Well then," said Richard, "by St. Paul, you shall not have cause to -repent. As you have put yourself in the king's will, we will put you -in ward with this noble lord, till our further pleasure; assigning him -one third of your revenues, for the guard and maintenance of your -person, and making him responsible to us for your conduct. He will not -deal harshly with you, methinks. Does this satisfy you?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Since better may not be, my lord," replied Chartley. "I would as -gladly be in the hand of this noble lord, who, if my memory fail me -not, is the Lord Calverly, as any one. Give a bird the choice, whether -yon shall put it in a gilded cage or wring its neck, and doubtless it -will prefer the wires; and yet it can scarcely be said to be -satisfied, when it would fain use its wings in freedom, though for no -evil purpose."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I seek not that his imprisonment be very strict, my lord," said -Richard, turning to Lord Calverly. "You will take such securities as -you judge needful, but do nought with rigour; for, even by the light -way in which he fronts his danger, one may judge that he did what he -has done in careless ignorance rather than in malice. Now take him -with you, and bestow him as you think fit."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Ay, young heads are too hot for cool judgment," said Lord Calverly, -as they walked towards the door. "It is a marvel to me how boys ever -grow men, and how men ever reach maturity; for, not contented with the -perils of life, they are always making new dangers for themselves."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Stay," cried Richard. "Stay! There is yet one question I would ask -before you go, Lord Chartley. Was the abbess of St. Glare privy to -your bringing this turbulent bishop within her walls? I hear you sent -forward a messenger."</p> - -<p class="normal">The question was a perilous one; but Chartley fixed upon the latter -words of the king for his reply, and thus avoided the danger. "My -messenger bore a letter, your highness," he answered, "which letter -the abbess doubtless still has and can show you. You will there see, -that I only told her I was coming to crave her hospitality with some -friends. The bishop I presented to her as a friar travelling with my -train. Nor was there one amongst the friends who were with me, nor -amongst my servants, who was made aware of our companion's quality. -There is a proverb, very old, that fine feathers make fine birds; and -I do not believe that any one saw the bishop's robe through the -friar's gown."</p> - -<p class="normal">Richard smiled, thinking of Sir Charles Weinants, but bowed his head -in signal of the conference being ended; and the two noblemen withdrew -together.</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h3>CHAPTER XX.</h3> -<br> - -<p class="normal">I know not whether the architecture of the middle ages--that peculiar -architecture, I mean, which existed in different varieties in England, -from a little before the commencement of the reign of the Conqueror, -till the end of the reign of Henry VII.--can be said to have advanced -or retrograded from the time of Edward III. to the time of Richard. -Every one will judge according to his particular tastes of the merits -of the style; but one thing is certain, that, although the houses of -the lower orders had remained much the same, the domestic arrangement -of the baronial residences had greatly improved. Notwithstanding that -long period of contention, which succeeded the accession of Henry VI., -notwithstanding constant wars and the frequent summons to the field, -men seemed to have looked for comfort in the laying out of their -dwellings; and the feudal castle, although still a castle, and well -fitted for defence, contained in it many of the conveniences of a -modern house. Perhaps it was, that the struggle of great parties had -taken the place of private quarrels between the great barons -themselves and struggles between mere individual conspirators and the -crown. Thus great towns were attacked more frequently than fortified -mansions; and, during this period, we meet with very few instances of -a simple baronial fortress being subjected to siege.</p> - -<p class="normal">However that might be, the chambers in a great nobleman's house, the -halls, the lodging chambers, the ladies' bower, were now all more -commodious, light, and airy, than at that former period of few, small, -narrow and deep windows, when light and air were excluded, as well as -the missiles of an enemy. Not only in monastery, convent, and college, -but even in private dwellings, the large oriel was seen here and -there, suffering the beams of day to pour freely into the hall, and -casting the lines of its delicate tracery upon the floor; and, raised -somewhat above the general level of the room, approached by two steps, -and furnished with window seats, it afforded a pleasant and sun-shiny -sitting-place to the elder and younger members of the family.</p> - -<p class="normal">There was one of these oriel windows in the lesser hall, of Chidlow -castle; and round the raised platform, within the sort of bay which it -formed, ran a sort of bench or window seat of carved oak, covered with -a loose cushion of crimson velvet. The lattice was open, and soft air -and bright light streamed in. The winter had been remarkably long and -severe. The snow had lain upon the ground till the end of March; and, -even then, when one bright day had succeeded, and withdrawn the white -covering of the earth, it was only to be followed by a week or ten -days of sharp frost, which reigned in its full rigour during some of -the events which we have narrated in the previous chapters. Now, -however, winter had departed, and spring commenced with that sudden -and rapid transition, which is often the case in more northern -countries, and is sometimes seen even in England. The air, as I have -said, was soft and genial; the blue skies were hardly chequered by a -fleecy cloud; the birds were singing in the trees; the red buds were -bursting with the long-checked sap; and snowdrop and violet seemed -running races with the primrose and the anemone, to catch the first -smile of their sweet mother spring. The little twining shrubs were -already green with their young leaves; and the honeysuckle strove hard -to cast a verdant mantle over the naked brown limbs of the tall trees -which it had climbed. The scene from the lattice of the oriel window -was one of those fair English landscapes on which the eye loves to -rest; for the castle was situated upon a height, and below spread out -a rich and beautiful country, waving in long lines of meadow and wood -for fifteen or sixteen miles, till sloping uplands towered into high -hills, which glowed with a peculiarly yellow light, never seen -anywhere, that I know of, beyond the limits of this island. Gazing -from that lattice, over that scene, sat two young and beautiful girls, -with whom the reader is already acquainted. Very different, it is -true, was their garb from that in which they were first presented to -you whose eye rests upon this page; for the more simple garments of -the convent had given place to the splendid costume of the court of -that time; and the forms, which required no ornament, were half hidden -in lace and embroidery. But there was still the beautiful face of -Iola, with the bright beaming expression, which seemed to pour forth -hope and joy in every look, but now somewhat shaded with a cloud of -care; and there, the not less fair, though somewhat more thoughtful, -countenance of her cousin Constance, with her deep feeling eyes poring -over the far prospect, and seeming to search for something through the -thin summer mist that softened all the features of the landscape.</p> - -<p class="normal">They were both very silent, and evidently busied with their own -thoughts. Some attendants passed across the hall, and others lingered, -to arrange this or that article of furniture. Others entered to speak -with them and the two girls, from time to time, turned an inquiring -look at those who came and went, showing that they were in some sort -strangers in the home of their fathers.</p> - -<p class="normal">At length, the hall was cleared of all but themselves, and Constance -said in a low voice, "I wish, dear cousin, that my aunt would come. We -should not then feel so desolate. I think our good lord and uncle -might have left us at the abbey till he was at home himself."</p> - -<p class="normal">"He would not have made the place much more cheerful," answered Iola, -with a faint smile; "for wisdom is a very melancholy thing, dear -Constance; at least if it be always like his. I fear me, too, even my -good merry aunt would not make this place feel anything but desolate -to me, just at present. She might cheer and support me a little, it is -true; but I have got terrible dreams of the future, Constance. I try -not to think of them, but they will come."</p> - -<p class="normal">She paused and bent down her eyes, in what seemed painful meditation; -and Constance replied, in a gentle tone, saying: "Why, how is this, -Iola? You used not to look upon the matter so seriously."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Alack, it gets very bad as it comes near," answered Iola, with an -uncheerful laugh. "It is something very like being sold for a slave, -Constance. However, the poor slave cannot help himself, nor I either, -so do not let us talk any more about it. I suppose I shall soon see my -purchaser. I wonder what he is like. Do you recollect whether he is -white or black?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Good faith, not I," answered Constance; "but he is not quite a negro, -I suppose. I have heard people say he was a pretty boy."</p> - -<p class="normal">"A pretty boy!" cried Iola, raising her eyebrows. "Heaven defend me! -What will become of me if I am married to a pretty boy? Somewhat like -Sir Edward Hungerford, I suppose, lisping lamentable nonsense about -essences, and bestowing his best thoughts upon his tailor."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Nay, nay! Why should you conjure up such fancies?" said Constance. -"You seem resolved to dislike him without cause."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Nature, dear cousin," said Iola. "Nature and the pig's prerogative, -to dislike any road we are forced to travel. Yet, it is bad policy, I -will admit; and I will try to shake it off, and to like him to the -best of my ability. The time is coming fast when I must, whether I -will or not; for I think the oath I am about to take is to love him. I -do think it is very hard that women should not be allowed to choose -for themselves, and yet be forced to take an oath which they do not -know whether they can keep or not. Well, the worst of all the seven -sacraments is matrimony, to my mind. Extreme unction is a joke to -it--how can I tell that I shall love him? I don't think I can; and yet -I must swear I will."</p> - -<p class="normal">"You are making a rack of your own fancy," said Constance. "Wait till -you have seen him at least, Iola; for, after all, you may find him the -very man of your own heart."</p> - -<p class="normal">Iola started, and then shook her head mournfully, saying, "of my own -heart? Oh, no!"</p> - -<p class="normal">Constance gazed at her in surprise; and for the first time a suspicion -of the truth crossed her mind. She said not a word, however, of her -doubts, but resolved to watch narrowly, with that kind and eager -affection which two girls brought up from youth together often feel -for each other, where no rivalry has ever mingled its bitter drop with -the sweet current of kindred love. She changed the subject of -conversation too, pointing to some towers in the distance, and saying, -"I wonder whose castle that is."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Middleham, I dare say," answered Iola, in an absent tone. "It is -somewhere out there--but yet it cannot be Middleham either. Middleham -is too far."</p> - -<p class="normal">"There is something moving upon that road which we see going along the -side of the hill," said Constance. "I dare say it is my uncle and his -train."</p> - -<p class="normal">"No, no, Leicester lies out there," answered Iola; "you never can find -out the country, dear cousin; and I learn it all in a minute, like the -leaf of a book. I dare say it is some wild lord, riding to hawk or to -hunt. Heaven send it be not my falcon, just towering to strike me -before my uncle comes. I'll not look at them. They seem coming this -way;" and she turned from the window and went down the steps, seating -herself upon the lower one, and resting her cheek upon her hand.</p> - -<p class="normal">Constance did watch the approaching party, however, till it became -evident that those whom she saw were coming direct towards the castle. -They were now seen and now lost among the trees and hedges; but every -time they reappeared they were nearer.</p> - -<p class="normal">At length Constance turned her eyes to Iola, and said, "they are -coming hither, whoever they are; and my uncle is certainly not one of -the party. They are only five or six in all, and seem young men. Had -we not better go away to our own chamber?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"No," answered Iola, starting up. "I will stay and face them. -Something seems to tell me, that I know who is coming. You shall see -how well I can behave, Constance, wild as you think me, and untutored -in the world's ways as I am."</p> - -<p class="normal">"They may be mere strangers after all," said Constance; "but here they -are; for I can hear the dull sound of their horses' feet upon the -drawbridge."</p> - -<p class="normal">Iola sprang up the steps again with a light step, and twined her arm -in that of her cousin. Both movements were very natural. We always -like to stand upon a height when we meet those of whom we have any -fear or any doubt; and Iola felt the need of sympathy which the very -touch of her cousin's arm afforded her. A pause followed, during which -Constance sought to say something and to look unconcerned; but words -she found not; and her eyes as well as Iola's remained fixed upon the -door. At length it opened; and, preceded by one of the officers of the -castle, but unannounced by him, two gentlemen entered with a quick -step. One was instantly recognized by both the fair girls who stood in -the oriel, as Sir Edward Hungerford. The other was a stranger to them -both. He was a dark handsome-looking young man, of some two or three -and twenty years of age, dressed in somewhat of a foreign fashion, -which, had they been much acquainted with such matters, they would -have perceived at once to be the mode of the Burgundian court; but -Iola's eye rested not upon his dress. It was his face that she -scanned; and Constance felt a sort of shudder pass over her cousin's -frame, as she leaned upon her arm, which pained and grieved her much. -She saw nothing disagreeable, nothing to dislike in the countenance or -air of the stranger. His step was free and graceful, his carriage -dignified and lordly, his look, though perhaps a little haughty, was -open and frank. In fact he was a man well calculated to please a -lady's eye; and again Constance said to herself--"There must be some -other attachment."</p> - -<p class="normal">The stranger came on at an equal pace with Sir Edward Hungerford; but -it was the latter who first spoke.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Permit me," he said, "dear ladies, to be lord of the ceremonies, and -introduce to you both my noble friend Arthur, Lord Fulmer."</p> - -<p class="normal">The other seemed not to hear what he said; but, mounting the steps -into the oriel at once, he took Iola's hand, saying--</p> - -<p class="normal">"This must be the Lady Iola."</p> - -<p class="normal">With a cheek as pale as death, and an eye cold and fixed, but with a -firm and unwavering tone, the fair girl answered--</p> - -<p class="normal">"My name is Iola, my lord. This is my cousin Constance. We grieve that -my uncle is not here to receive you fittingly."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I bring you tidings of your uncle, dear lady," replied Fulmer, still -addressing her alone. "A messenger reached me from him at an early -hour this morning, telling me that he would be at Chidlow during the -evening, with a gay train of guests, and bidding me ride on and have -everything prepared for their reception. He spoke indeed of sending a -servant forward himself. Has no one arrived?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"No one, my lord," replied Iola, "at least no one that we have heard -of. But, having lived long in close seclusion, we are, as it were, -strangers in my uncle's house, without occupation or authority. I pray -you use that which my uncle has given you, to order all that may be -necessary. As for us, I think we will now retire."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Nay, not so soon," exclaimed Fulmer, eagerly. "This is but a brief -interview indeed."</p> - -<p class="normal">Sir Edward Hungerford too, in sweet and persuasive tones, besought the -two ladies not to leave them, but to stay and give their good advice, -as to the delicate preparation of the castle for the expected guests; -but Iola remained firm to her purpose; and Constance, when she saw -that it would distress her to remain, joined her voice to her -cousin's; and, leaving the two gentlemen in the hall, they retired to -Iola's chamber.</p> - -<p class="normal">With her arm through that of Constance, Iola walked slowly but firmly -thither; and it was only as she approached the door that anything like -agitation showed itself. Then, however, Constance felt her steps waver -and her frame shake; and, when they had entered the room, Iola cast -herself on her knees by the side of the bed, hid her face upon its -coverings, and wept.</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h3>CHAPTER XXI.</h3> -<br> - -<p class="normal">When Iola and her fair cousin were gone, Lord Fulmer gazed for a -moment from the window, with a thoughtful and absent look; and then, -descending the steps, walked once or twice up and down the hall. At -length, turning to Sir Edward Hungerford, he exclaimed:</p> - -<p class="normal">"She is beautiful, indeed! Is she not, Hungerford?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Yes, exceedingly," replied the young knight; "although, methinks, the -upper lip might be a trifle longer; but you would think her fairer -still if you beheld her as I first saw her, with a colour in her -cheek, like that of the morning sky. Now, I know not why, she is as -pale as one of those marble statues which we see at Rome."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Emotion!" said Fulmer, thoughtfully. "Perhaps it was wrong to take -her thus, by surprise. Come, Hungerford, let us give these orders with -which I am charged;" and, advancing to the door, he called for the -attendants.</p> - -<p class="normal">The orders were not so difficult to give as to execute; for they -implied immediate preparation for the accommodation of at least twenty -honoured guests besides the usual inhabitants of the castle, together -with all their attendants, and for a splendid repast, to be ready for -supper at the unusually late hour of nine. Special directions were -added, to prepare one of the numerous detached buildings, which were -frequently to be found within the walls of the fortified houses of -those days, for the reception of the Lord Chartley and his train; and -a portion of the immense range of stabling, which lay, strange to say, -immediately at the back of the chapel, was to be set apart exclusively -for his horses. Sir Edward Hungerford listened in polite silence, till -Fulmer had delivered himself of his commission to the chief officer of -Lord Calverly's household; but he could not suffer the good man to -depart, without putting in a word or two, as advice to the master -cook, concerning the dressing of cygnets, and the absolute necessity -of immediately seeking a young heron of last year, or at least a -bittern, as heron poults were not to be obtained.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Porpoises are hopeless," he said, "at this distance from the sea, and -squirrels in the spring are lean and poor; but, I have known a large -luce, quaintly stewed with lard, supply the place of the one, while a -coney may do well instead of the other; only I fear me it is somewhat -late in the year."</p> - -<p class="normal">The major domo bowed reverently at this discourse; and, as soon as he -was gone, Fulmer exclaimed: "Come, Hungerford, let us walk upon the -battlements, this sunshiny afternoon. Perchance these two fair girls -may come down to breathe the air."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Stay," replied Sir Edward Hungerford. "I will go and put on my green -and sable surcoat; if they see it, it may attract them."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Pshaw!" cried Fulmer. "Do you think they are bulls, which, men say, -will run after a piece of cloth of a particular colour?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Nay!" replied Hungerford, with perhaps a little spice of malice; "but -this surcoat of mine is, point for point, the very model of -Chartley's."</p> - -<p class="normal">"What has Chartley to do with the matter?" demanded Fulmer, turning -full upon him, with some surprise.</p> - -<p class="normal">"It shall be on in a moment," replied Sir Edward, without answering -his question. "I hate this orange tawny colour, though it be now worn -by every one. It does not at all suit my complexion. 'Tis a sort of -jealousy colour. I will no more on't;" and away he went.</p> - -<p class="normal">Lord Fulmer paced up and down the hall. "Her greeting was mighty -cold," he thought. "Well, perhaps 'twas natural; and yet 'twas less -troubled than chilly. She seemed firm enough, but yet as icy as the -grave. What can this man mean about Chartley? Nothing, nothing. He has -no meaning in him. I wish her greeting had been somewhat warmer--and -in his presence too. He smiled, when he talked of Chartley."</p> - -<p class="normal">He had not time for any long meditations, for he was very soon -rejoined by his friend, habited in the most extravagant extreme of the -mode, with the sleeves of his surcoat actually trailing on the ground -when not fixed back to his shoulders by small loops of gold cord, and -ruby buttons. The two gentlemen then found their way to the -battlements, and walked round nearly their whole extent; Hungerford -looking up, from time to time, at the principal masses of the -building, in the hopes of ascertaining, by seeing some sweet face at a -window, in what part of the castle Constance and her cousin were -lodged. He said no more upon the subject of Iola and Chartley; and -Fulmer did not choose to inquire further, though, to say the truth, -the mere casual words he had heard, implying in reality little or -nothing, rested on his mind more than he wished. Wrapped up in the -thoughts of his own glittering person, Sir Edward Hungerford walked on -by his friend's side in silence, and might perhaps have said nothing -more for the next half hour, if Fulmer had not begun the conversation -himself. Of course, it was begun from a point quite different from -that at which he proposed to arrive.</p> - -<p class="normal">"This castle is pleasantly situated," he observed, "and commands all -the country round."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Good faith, I like your own better," answered Sir Edward Hungerford. -"Sheltered as it is, by woods and higher hills than that on which it -stands, you have no dread of north winds there. Here, let it blow from -east, west, north or south, you meet with every gust of heaven that is -going; and, unless a man's skin be as tough as a horse's hide, he will -ruin his complexion in a fortnight."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I like it better," said Fulmer. "I love to have a free sight round -me, to look afar, and see what comes on every side, to catch the rays -of the sun in their warmth, ay, and sometimes to give the sharp wind -buffet for buffet. Were both mine, I should choose this for my -residence."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Well, it will soon be yours," answered Sir Edward Hungerford; "for, -I suppose your marriage is to take place speedily, and this old lord -cannot live long. He is worn out with wisdom. You can then inhabit -which you like. Every man has his tastes, Fulmer. Some, as you know, -delight in orange tawny. I abominate the hue. You dislike your own -place, and prefer Chidlow; I the reverse. You, doubtless, judge Iola -the most beautiful. I admire little Constance, with her thoughtful -brow."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Because you have no more thought yourself than would lie in the hem -of a silk jerkin," replied Fulmer. "Yet, methinks she were too grave -for you."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Nay! She can be merry enough when she is with those who please her," -replied Hungerford, with a self-satisfied nod of his head. "That -pretty little mouth can dimple with smiles, I assure you."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Why, how know you all this, Hungerford?" asked Fulmer, in as light a -tone as he could assume. "You seem to be wondrous well acquainted with -these ladies' characters."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Ay, ay," replied Sir Edward, with a mysterious and yet laughing look. -"Constance and I passed that self same evening side by side; and, in -one evening, a man may learn and teach a great deal."</p> - -<p class="normal">"What evening?--What do you mean?" demanded Fulmer, sharply; but his -companion only laughed, replying:--</p> - -<p class="normal">"Ha! ha! Now, I could make you jealous--but, hush! No more just now. -Some one is coming; and look, here is a party riding up--there, over -that hill, upon the Leicester road."</p> - -<p class="normal">The person who approached along the battlements was Lord Calverly's -master of the household, come for some explanation from the young -lord, whom he knew right well; and, while he spoke with Fulmer, Sir -Edward Hungerford threw himself into a graceful attitude by one of the -embrasures, and fell into thought--ay, reader, even into thought; for -he was somewhat different in reality from that which he has hitherto -appeared to you. I have only depicted him in certain scenes, and -recorded his sayings and doings therein; and, if you judge other men, -in your actual commerce with the world, by such partial views, you -will make a great mistake--unless indeed you possess that instinct, -the gift of few, which enables some to pierce through all the various -veils with which men cover themselves, and see their real characters -at once in their nakedness. Notwithstanding all the trifling, and the -foppery, and the folly of Sir Edward Hungerford, there was no lack of -brain beneath that frivolous exterior. I do not mean to say that his -apparent tastes and pursuits were altogether assumed. He had a real -fondness for splendour and delicacy of dress, for refinements in -cookery, and softness and smoothness of demeanour. He was inordinately -vain too of his person; and these were certainly defects, ay, and -defects of intellect; for they showed a misappreciation of the worth -of things; but, if you set down every fop for a fool, you will commit -an egregious error. Every man has his weak point, they say, and -foppery is certainly a very great one; but there may be a many strong -points behind, and such was the case with this young knight. He was a -man of undoubted courage, notwithstanding all his care for his fine -person; by no means eager in quarrel, who could hear a jest, or a -taunt, or even a reproach, with great patience, provided it did not -become an insult; but then no one was more ready with his sword. The -man, in short, who wished to fight him, he was ever prepared to fight; -but he never showed any of that assassin-like love of mere fighting, -which has gained many a man, very unjustly, the reputation of great -courage. Not, however, to make him appear better than he really was, I -must say a few words more upon his character. Though he could think -deeply, and sometimes well, upon any subject placed before him, yet he -had no value whatever for the power of thought. His great fault was a -miscomprehension of what is precious and what is valueless in man; and -this affected his estimation of his own qualities as well as those of -others. Whether from a strange but not unusual philosophy, he thought -the trifles of every day life more important to man's happiness, from -their frequent occurrence, than the weighty things of the heart and -mind, or whether the mocking persiflage of the court in which he had -been brought up, had sunk, as it were, into his spirit, and made him -look upon all things equally as trifles, I cannot tell; but certainly -he would have prided himself more upon the cut of a doublet, which -would have secured a multitude of imitators, than upon the wisest -saying he could have uttered, or upon the profoundest reflections that -could have passed through his mind. But this philosophy, or whatever -it was, had its dangers and its evils. He looked upon morals with the -same distorted vision as upon all other matters; even laughed at -restraints which other men held sacred, and regarded every course of -conduct as perfectly indifferent, because all things were equally -empty and idle. To the punctilios of honour, as to the ceremonies of -religion, he submitted with a good grace, merely because it was not -worth while to contest them; and, if he did not injure a friend, or -betray a cause he had espoused, or violate his plighted word, it was -merely--I will not say by accident--by some slight impression received -in youth, which he would have scoffed at in his own mind, if any one -attempted to erect it into a principle. He seldom argued indeed, and -never combatted other men's opinions, because he thought it quite as -well that they should have them as not; and the only thing he thought -it worth while to reason upon for five minutes was the fashion of a -point, or a cloak, the design of a piece of embroidery, or the -composition of an essence. These matters indeed rose into some -importance with him; but the cause was, that he had talked himself -into a vanity upon the subject, and other men had given value to his -decisions by following them as law.</p> - -<p class="normal">He thought then, while his companion was engaged in conversation; and -his mind rested naturally upon things which had just passed.</p> - -<p class="normal">"How some men trouble themselves about vain fancies," he said to -himself. "Here is this good friend of mine would soon be in a flame of -jealousy, if he knew all; not considering how very foolish and unlike -a gentleman it is to be jealous at all. It is quite a gone-by mode, a -faded suit, since good King Edward's days, and is as bad as a pale -yellow doublet with a crimson cloak. Yet this man would wear it, and -make himself as ridiculous as a Turk, with fifty wives, and jealous of -them all. It would be amusing enough to see him, with all the -wonderful graces of such a condition, now writhing like a saltimbank, -yet grinning all the while to hide his pangs--then with a moody air -walking apart with crossed angry arms, and thundery brow, and now -affecting the gay and jocular, and dealing blows right and left, under -the colour of sportive playfulness, only waiting to cut some one's -throat, till he got the proof positive, which never comes. But I will -not do it. It is not worth the while. Trouble would grow out of it; -and nothing on earth is worth trouble but a dish of lampreys or a pair -of new-fashioned hosen.--They are coming on fast," he continued aloud, -looking from the walls. "On my life I believe it is the old pompous -lord coming at the full gallop as if he were following a falcon. Come, -Fulmer, come; let us down to the gates. Here is that most honourable -peer, Arnold Lord Calverly, with two or three score in company, riding -as fast as if King Richard were behind him. Pray Heaven the good -nobleman's horse stumble not, or what a squelch there will be."</p> - -<p class="normal">Thus saying, he began to descend one of those little flights of steps, -which, in castles such as that of Chidlow, led from the battlements -into the court-yard. Fulmer followed with a quick step; but the words -of Sir Edward Hungerford had already planted doubts and apprehensions, -which were not easily to be removed.</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h3>CHAPTER XXII.</h3> -<br> - -<p class="normal">"It was discreet, my lord, it was discreet," said Lord Calverly, as he -walked up into the hall with Fulmer by his side; "and take my word for -it, that discretion is a quality which every man should prize in a -wife. She meant you no offence, depend upon it, but with maidenly -modesty retired till she had the sanction of her guardian's presence."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I made no complaint, my dear lord," replied Fulmer, for the first -time aware that, in telling how soon Iola had left him, his tone had -displayed some mortification; "I merely said that, after a moment's -interview, the dear girl withdrew; and you may easily imagine that I -should have better liked her stay."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Nay, nay, not so," answered the old peer. "That is a boyish fancy. We -should always prefer lengthened happiness to present pleasure. Now her -retiring was a sign of that frame of mind which will be your best -happiness hereafter, therefore you should have been well pleased."</p> - -<p class="normal">Fulmer set his teeth tight together, bearing the lecture with -impatience, to which he did not choose to give utterance; but the next -moment the old lord continued, saying--</p> - -<p class="normal">"Thanks for your diligence, my dear lord. I see the people are all in -a bustle of preparation. My noble friend Lord Chartley will be here -anon; for, good sooth, it gave me some trouble to outride him; and I -would not have him find anything in disarray; for his own household, I -am told, is the best ordered in England."</p> - -<p class="normal">The words galled their auditor. He asked himself why it should be so; -and he had nothing to reply; for the movements of the human heart, -deep, subtle, and intricate, conceal themselves constantly more or -less, not only from the eyes of the outward world, but from the sight -of the mind, which is affected by their impulses. As the ship leaves -no permanent trace in the ever closing waters, as the arrow marks not -its path through the sky, so do feelings often pass through the human -heart, leaving no trace of the way by which they came and went.</p> - -<p class="normal">Fulmer could not prevent a frown from gathering on his brow; but, -though marked by Sir Edward Hungerford, it passed unnoticed by old -Lord Calverly, whose coming somewhat earlier than had been expected -set the whole household of the castle in movement. Orders had to be -given; rooms to be assigned; new preparations to be ordered; old -preparations to be undone; servants, attendants, guests hurried here -and there; and a great deal of bustle, and not a little confusion, -prevailed, when, at length, Iola and Constance appeared in answer -to a summons from their uncle. The former was still very pale; and -the keen and marking eye of Fulmer detected--or he fancied that he -detected--the trace of tears upon her beautiful cheek.</p> - -<p class="normal">All passed unnoticed by her self-occupied uncle. He had not seen her -for nearly two years, and he did not remark any change in her -appearance. She might have been pale before, for aught he knew; and -besides he was too busy to take any note of such trifling things as -paleness or tears. He saluted both his nieces, and welcomed them to -Chidlow in fewer words than was his wont; asked why their aunt, the -abbess, had not come with them at his summons; but waited for no -answer; and, committing them to the care of Lord Fulmer and Sir Edward -Hungerford, with some gentlemen, of inferior fortune and station who -had accompanied him from Leicester, he proceeded to reiterate orders -given twice before, and confuse his servants with manifold directions, -often somewhat contradictory.</p> - -<p class="normal">Left in the hall with her cousin, and her uncle's guests, Iola felt -some relief in the numbers who were present. Fulmer would fain have -enacted the lover's part; nor was he indeed at all unfitted to do so; -for his heart was naturally warm and impetuous, and Iola's beauty and -grace might well have kindled the flame of love in a colder breast -than his own. Strange human nature, too, would have it, that the -doubts and apprehensions which had arisen in his mind should render -him only the mere eager to overcome anything like coldness upon her -part; and he strove, with soft speeches and low-toned words, to win -her ear to himself alone.</p> - -<p class="normal">The result was not favourable. Iola listened calmly, coldly, and ever -replied aloud, in words which all the world might hear. She did so, -not upon any plan or system indeed, but from the feelings which were -busy in her own heart, and the impressions which his words produced. -She was contrasting them all the time with those of Chartley; and to -her mind, at least, the comparison was unfavourable. The frank gay -manner, the lively half-careless answer, the want of all study and -formality, the shining forth of a heart that, like a gay bird, seemed -made captive in spite of itself, which had all pleased, excited, won -her in Chartley, was not to be found in the conversation or demeanour -of Lord Fulmer. Between her and him there were but few subjects in -common; the only one, indeed, being that from which she shrunk away -with apprehension. He could but have recourse to the common places of -love and admiration; and they were not at all fitted to win her. It -was his misfortune indeed, and not his fault; but yet we often -aggravate our misfortunes by our faults; and so it was in some degree -with Fulmer. He had dreamed bright dreams of their meeting; and, -little knowing woman's heart, he had fancied that she would do the -same, that she would look forward with the same hopes to their union, -that her heart unwooed would spring to meet his; and he was -disappointed, mortified, somewhat irritated, to find that it was not -so.</p> - -<p class="normal">Worse, in the end he showed such feelings in his manner, and by an -impatient look and tone, caused Iola to shrink from him still more -coldly.</p> - -<p class="normal">It was just at that moment that old Lord Calverly returned, saying -aloud--</p> - -<p class="normal">"Our other guests are coming. They are just at the castle gates. Now, -Constance," he continued, for his lordship would sometimes venture an -insipid joke, "now, Constance, if you would win a rich and noble -husband, put on your brightest smiles."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Who may he be, my lord?" asked Constance, who as well as Iola was -ignorant of the names of the persons expected.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Nay, nay, you will see," said Lord Calverly. "Did not his young -lordship tell you?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"No, indeed!" answered Constance quietly; "but I can wait in patience, -my good lord. Time brings all things to light."</p> - -<p class="normal">Through the open windows came the clattering sound of horses' feet -from the court-yard, and then of orders given and voices speaking. -There is something very strange in our memory of sounds. How long, how -clearly we remember, how definitely we can trace back those intangible -footprints of things that we have loved or dreaded, on the pathway of -the air. A tone which has once awakened strong emotions is never -forgotten. Iola's heart thrilled as she heard those sounds from the -court.</p> - -<p class="normal">There was then a pause of a minute or two, during which no one spoke. -Then came steps upon the short wide staircase; and then the door -opened. Fulmer fixed his eyes upon Iola's face; but she remarked not -that he did so; for her own look was bent forward upon the door. He -saw a clear light rise up in her eyes, a soft warm glow spread itself -over her cheek and forehead, a bright but very transient smile, -extinguished as soon as lighted, beam upon her beautiful lips. The -next instant she was calm and pale again; and, turning his head, he -saw Chartley approaching.</p> - -<p class="normal">The wound was given. His doubts, his apprehensions, his suspicions -were confirmed. Yet there was nothing tangible; nothing that could -justify him in saying a word, or acting in any way except as before. -But that was the greater torture; and now he resolved to watch for -some occasion to speak or do. In the mean time Chartley advanced -rapidly, followed by good Sir William Arden. He was somewhat changed -since Iola had seen him. He looked graver, sterner. His cheek had -grown pale too. There were care and thought written on his brow.</p> - -<p class="normal">"He has suffered also," thought Iola; and her heart sunk more than -ever.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Oh, would that I had told him all at once!" she said in her own -heart. "Yet how could I do it? Alas, that I should make him unhappy -too."</p> - -<p class="normal">Chartley's manner however showed no agitation. He had been prepared by -his conversation with Lord Calverly to meet those whom he found there; -and, at once addressing the old nobleman, he said:</p> - -<p class="normal">"I here redeem my parole, my good lord, and surrender myself to your -ward, according to the king's will, and to my word given this morning -when you left me."</p> - -<p class="normal">Then turning to Iola, he took her hand with a frank but grave air, and -bent his head over it, saying, "dear lady, I rejoice to see you once -again, and trust that you have been well since the evening when we -met."</p> - -<p class="normal">With a degree of haste, which was the only sign of emotion he showed, -he next saluted Constance, almost in the same words; but then, with a -kindly and sincere tone, inquired after her aunt, the abbess, trusting -that she had not suffered from the alarm and anxiety she must have -felt on the night when he last saw her. He listened too attentively to -Constance's reply; but he could not prevent his eyes from wandering -for a moment back to the face of Iola; and then, with a sort of start, -he turned away, looking round the circle, and exclaimed, "oh, -Hungerford, I did not expect to meet you here. When you left me at -Leicester, I thought you were bound for London, and believed you, even -now, plunged in a sea of green Genoa velvet."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Nay, you forget," replied Sir Edward Hungerford; "summer is coming -on. No one could venture to wear velvet for the next eight months, -except a lord mayor or an alderman."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Faith, I know not much of such matters," answered Chartley; "but that -is the most reasonable piece of tailorism I have heard, which gives us -warm clothing for our winter wear and lighter garments for our summer -use. However I thought you were in London."</p> - -<p class="normal">"So had I been," answered the young knight; "but I was stopped by a -delicate epistle from my friend Lord Fulmer, here, containing an -invitation not to be refused."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Let me make you acquainted, any good lords," said Lord Calverly, -advancing between the two young noblemen, and presenting them to each -other. Each bowed with a stiff and stately air; and Chartley paused -for a moment, as if to see whether Fulmer would speak or not; but, -finding him silent, he turned on his heel; and, seeing Sir William -Arden talking bluffly to Iola, he took his place by the side of -Constance, and once more spoke of the night of their meeting.</p> - -<p class="normal">The entrance of the young nobleman and those who accompanied him had -caused one of those pauses which are very common in--I might say -peculiar to--English society. Amongst foreigners in general, a -stranger can enter, glide in amongst the other guests, speak with -those he knows, pass those who are strangers, and be introduced to -this person or to that, without interrupting the occupations or -amusements going on. If his rank be very high, or his character very -distinguished, a slight murmur, a hardly perceptible movement, and a -few seconds of observation, form all that is produced by his -appearance; but here such is not the case; and, unless the -conversation going forward be very entertaining indeed, or the -amusement in progress very exciting, a long silence follows the -introduction of any personage worthy of note, during which he is well -aware that every body is observing and commenting upon him. Such had -been in a great degree the case in the present instance. For the first -five minutes, nobody had spoken but Chartley, Iola, Constance, their -uncle, and Sir Edward Hungerford. But, at the end of that time, each -of the many guests resumed his conversation with his neighbour; and -Chartley had a better opportunity of saying a few words, which he did -not wish heard, to Constance, while the busy buzz of tongues prevailed -around.</p> - -<p class="normal">"I am happy, dear lady," he said, as soon as he had made sure of the -moment, "to see you looking so well. I wish I could say the same of -your sweet cousin. She looks pale, anxious, and thoughtful."</p> - -<p class="normal">He paused as if for an answer, but Constance merely replied, "she does -not look well indeed."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I fear," continued Chartley, "that terrible night she passed in the -forest, with all the alarm that she must have felt, was too much for -her fair and delicate frame. I did my best, believe me, to comfort and -protect her; but my best was but little, and she must have suffered -much."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I do not think that had any effect," replied Constance. "Her health -has ever been strong and unimpaired--" she stopped for an instant, -fearful of being led on to say more than she intended, and then added; -"but she certainly looks ill. She speaks, however, my lord, with great -gratitude of the kindness which you showed her, on that terrible -night, which I shall never think of without dread."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Gratitude!" said Chartley, with a smile. "Kindness! Dear lady, she -must have formed a very unfavourable opinion of mankind, if she -thought there was any gentleman who would not do the same."</p> - -<p class="normal">"But it may be done in very different ways, my noble lord," answered -Constance; "and she assured me that you treated her as if you had been -a brother."</p> - -<p class="normal">Chartley murmured to himself in a low tone, "Would that I could have -felt as one!" The sounds were hardly articulate; but they caught the -ear of his companion, and the whole secret was revealed at once. She -cast down her eyes in painful thought, from which she was roused the -moment after by Chartley saying, almost in a whisper,</p> - -<p class="normal">"Will you give her a message for me, dear lady? for I may never have -the opportunity of saying what I wish myself."</p> - -<p class="normal">"What is it, my lord?" demanded Constance, timidly, with a glow of -agitation coming into her cheek.</p> - -<p class="normal">"It is merely this," replied the young nobleman. "Tell her, that he -for whom she risked so much--I mean the bishop of Ely--is safe in -France. I have received intimation of the fact from a sure hand. Tell -her so, and add that, if the deepest gratitude and the sincerest -regard can compensate for what she underwent that night, she has -them."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I will," replied Constance. "I will repeat your words exactly. There -can be no harm in that."</p> - -<p class="normal">She laid some emphasis on the last words; and Chartley gazed in her -face as if to learn the interpretation thereof, "There can, indeed, be -no harm in that," he rejoined: "nor in telling her any thought of my -mind towards her."</p> - -<p class="normal">Constance was about to reply; but, looking up, she saw the eyes of her -uncle fixed upon her, with a meaning smile upon his lip, as if he -thought she had already made a conquest of Lord Chartley. The -conversation between them then paused; and Lord Calverly, crossing to -where they stood, proposed to lead the young nobleman, who was partly -his guest, partly his prisoner, to the lodging which had been prepared -for him, his friend Sir William Arden, and their attendants. Chartley -followed in silence, and found everything done that it was possible to -do to render his residence at Chidlow pleasant.</p> - -<p class="normal">The old lord was all courtesy and kindness. In his usual pompous tone, -he excused what he called the poverty of the furniture, though it was -in reality of a very splendid description. He declared the bed was not -half large enough, though it would have afforded room to turn in, to -at least six well-grown persons. The plumes of feathers too, at the -top of the posts, he declared were in a bad fashion, as well as the -hangings of the bed, and the tapestry of the bedroom somewhat faded. -The antechamber and the chamber adjoining were well enough, though -somewhat confined, he said; but he excused their narrowness, on -account of that part of the building being the most ancient of all, -the tower having been built by William the Bastard.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Our Norman ancestors," he said, "thought more of defence than -convenience; but we have larger apartments in the main building, where -Lord Chartley will always be received as an honoured guest. And now, -my dear young lord," he continued, "though I grieve in some sort to be -made, as it were, your jailer, yet in some sort I rejoice; for I can -lighten your captivity, or, to call it by a better name, your -wardship. I would fain have it as mild as may be, and, though I am -responsible to the king for your person, yet I would only secure you -by bolts and bars of words, and fetters of air. Give me your promise, -as knight and nobleman, as you did this morning, that you will make no -attempt to escape, and then roam whithersoever you will. I will set no -spies upon you. You have then only to fancy yourself a guest in my -poor mansion, and all the pangs of imprisonment are gone."</p> - -<p class="normal">"A thousand thanks, my noble friend," replied Chartley. "My promise I -freely give; but it were better for both you and me that your -forbearance and my engagement should have a limit. Let it be from -month to month. Thus, the first of every month I present myself as -your prisoner, and then you can renew your kind permission if you -please, or not."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Agreed, agreed," cried Lord Calverly. "It is a marvellous good -arrangement. The rooms of your friend, Sir William Arden, an -exceedingly good and valiant knight, though somewhat more familiar -with the battle field than with bower or hall, are immediately above -you; the rooms of your own attendants below. The truckle beds in the -antechamber are somewhat small, but will serve two of the knaves well -enough. And now I leave you, with a warning that our repast will be -upon the board within the hour.--Ha, here comes Sir William Arden -across the court, conducted by my cousin John. I will tell him of our -supper hour as we pass; but he does not spend much time on his -apparel, I should think."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Good faith, he is well apparelled in his own high qualities," replied -Chartley, "however he be dressed. The wool of a sheep and the entrails -of a silkworm make but a poor addition in my eyes to a man's own -worth--but," he added, not willing that his bluff friend should be -undervalued, even by one who esteemed wealth as a high quality, "the -plainness of Arden's apparel is from choice and not necessity. -Doubtless, you know, my lord, that in worldly wealth he is as well -furnished as in qualities of heart."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Nay, nay, I did not know it," said Lord Calverly, with a look of much -interest. "I thought he was but one of the knights of your household."</p> - -<p class="normal">"My mother's first cousin," replied Chartley, "which is the cause of -his attachment to myself."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Nay, nay, your own high merits," said Lord Calverly, with a sliding -bow, and took his leave.</p> - -<p class="normal">In a few minutes more, Sir William Arden entered Chartley's room, with -a gay air.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Well, boy," he exclaimed, "here you are a prisoner. Think yourself -happy that you have not been gored by the boar's tusks. Good faith, he -wounds deep where he strikes. That old fool, our host, has stopped me -for five minutes in the court, with a panegyric on your merits, and -looked much surprized when I told him the plain truth, to wit, that -you are a foolish mad-headed boy, who will need fifty such hard -lessons as you have received, before you get some grains of common -sense beaten into you."</p> - -<p class="normal">Arden threw himself on a seat in the window, as he spoke, and gazed -out, little attending to Chartley's answer, which consisted but of -some words of course. He remained silent, even for a minute or two -after; but then, turning sharply round, he said--</p> - -<p class="normal">"Tell me, Chartley, what has happened to that sweet girl, Iola? She -that was bright is dull; she, who was gay, is sad; she, whose cheek -was like the rose, is now like a lily bending amongst its green -leaves, bowed down with drops of dew."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Nay, I know not," answered Chartley, leaning his head upon his hand, -and bending his eyes upon the table.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Then, what's the matter with you, my lord?" rejoined Sir William -Arden; "for yours is the same case as hers. You are sad where you were -gay; you are stupid where you were sharp; you look like a pipped hen -instead of a rosy bumpkin."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Methinks my present situation were enough to account for all this," -replied Chartley.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Come, come. That will not do, my lord," answered his friend. "I have -seen you in much worse plight, when we were taken by the brown fellows -at Tripoli, and you were then as gay as a lark. Better you should have -some one to consult with. Tell me in a word, then. Were you making -love to this dear little lady, when you were out with her the whole -night in the forest? It was a great temptation, truly. I was half -inclined at supper to make an old fool of myself, and say sweet things -to pretty Constance, just to console her for the empty babbling of Ned -Hungerford."</p> - -<p class="normal">Chartley still leaned his arm upon the table, and remained in thought. -It was not a usual mood with him; for, generally, the first emotions -of his heart soonest found utterance; but new passions will produce -new conduct. For the first time in his life, he felt inclined to be -angry at his acts being inquired into, even by a friend, for the -purposes of friendship. But he felt that it was foolish and wrong; -and, being a very imperfect creature, after a brief struggle, he went -into quite the opposite extreme.</p> - -<p class="normal">"You are too sharp a questioner, Arden," he said, with a laugh, which -had somewhat of his old gaiety in it; "but I'll answer your question -manfully. I do not think the name of love ever passed my lips during -that whole night."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Ay, ay," cried the bluff knight; "but talking of love is not making -it."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Perhaps not," answered Chartley; "but, if I did make it, it was -without intention. One thing, however, I feel too well, that, if I did -not make love, I learned to love; and that is much worse. But it were -worse still, Arden, should I have taught her to love too."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Why so?" asked Sir William Arden, with a start.</p> - -<p class="normal">"And yet I cannot think it," said Chartley, pursuing his own course of -thought. "No, no, God forbid! This paleness, this sadness, may have a -thousand other causes."</p> - -<p class="normal">"But how now? What's the matter?" asked Arden, again. "Why should you -wish yourself unloved? Remember, young man, when once put on, you -cannot strip off love like a soiled jerkin. The honest man and true -seeks no love that he cannot wear for ever--at least, till the garment -drops off of itself."</p> - -<p class="normal">"You do not know. You do not understand," said Chartley, impatiently. -"The lady is contracted, I tell you, to this Lord Fulmer--ay, -contracted in infancy, by every tie but the mere last ceremony of the -church."</p> - -<p class="normal">"And did she not tell you?" demanded Arden. "That was wrong, very -wrong."</p> - -<p class="normal">"'Tis you who are wrong," replied Chartley. "Why should she tell me? -How should she tell me, when I never spoke to her of love? What my -manner said, I know not; but there was not one word uttered by me -which could give her a plea for relating to me all her private -history. I thought I should have plenty of opportunity of speaking -boldly, at an after time; and, alarmed and agitated as she was, I -would not for the world have said or done aught that could add to what -she felt. Since then, I have learned that she was contracted, when a -child, to this Lord Fulmer; but that, educated as he has been at the -court of Burgundy, they have never met from infancy till now."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Damnation!" cried Sir William Arden, striding up and down the room. -"This is the most unpleasant thing I ever had to deal with! And you -forced to live in the same house with him too. In fortune's name, what -will you do, my dear boy?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"As best I may," answered Chartley. "Perhaps 'twere as well, Arden, to -resume the appearance, at least, of all my old light spirits. At the -worst, she will then but tax me with levity; and, if the feelings she -has taught me have been at all learned by herself, she will soon be -brought to believe that I am unworthy, because careless, of her -affections, and feel the less regret at the sacrifice she must make."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Don't resume, or assume anything, my dear lord," answered Sir William -Arden. "Be what you are, seem what you are at all times. Confound me -all men that walk in vizards! The best result always comes of the most -straightforward course. But I will go and change these travel-soiled -garments, and think of it all while I am getting the dust out of my -eyes.--By the Lord that lives," he continued, looking out at the -window, "there comes the abbess of St. Clare into the court, with -Heaven knows how many more people. The castle will be too full, and I -shall have to share my room with her. Well, thank Heaven for all -things. She is a merry little fat soul, and will help us to laugh care -away."</p> - -<p class="normal">Thus saying, he turned and left his friend, who was not ill-satisfied, -on the whole, at having been forced into making a confidant of one, on -whose honour, integrity, and good sense he could firmly rely.</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h3>CHAPTER XXIII.</h3> -<br> - -<p class="normal">There was a man walking in the woods, with a slight limp in his gait. -He was coarsely but comfortably dressed, and had something very like a -Cretan cap upon his head. His face was a merry face, well preserved in -wine or some other strong liquor; and, from the leathern belt, which -girt his brown coat close round his waist, stuck out, on the one side -a long knife, and on the other the chanter of a bagpipe. The bag, -alas, was gone.</p> - -<p class="normal">He looked up at the blue clear sky. He looked up at the green leaves, -just peering from the branches over his head; and, as he went, he -sang; for his pipes had been spoiled by Catesby's soldiery, and his -own throat was the only instrument of music left him.</p> -<div class="poem1"> - -<h4>SONG.</h4> - -<p class="t1">Oh, merry spring, merry spring!<br> -With sunshine on thy back, and dew upon thy wing</p> -<p class="t4">Sweetest bird of all the year.<br> -How I love to see thee here.<br> -And thy choristers to hear,</p> -<p class="t1" style="text-indent:15%">As they sing. - -<p class="t1">Oh happy time, happy time!<br> -When buds of hawthorn burst, and honeysuckles climb,</p> -<p class="t4">And the maidens of the May,<br> -Hear the sweet bells as they play.<br> -And make out what they say</p> -<p class="t1" style="text-indent:15%">In their chime.</p> - -<p class="t1">Oh jolly hours, jolly hours!<br> -Of young and happy hearts, in gay and pleasant bowers,</p> -<p class="t4">Could I my spring recall,<br> -I'd be merrier than all;<br> -But my year is in the fall</p> -<p class="t1" style="text-indent:15%">Of the flowers.</p> - -<p class="t1">Still, I feel there comes a day<br> -Far brighter, than e'er shone upon this round of clay,</p> -<p class="t4">When life with swallow's wing.<br> -Shall find another spring,<br> -And my spirit yet shall sing.</p> -<p class="t1" style="text-indent:15%">In the ray.</p> -</div> - -<p class="normal">Thus sang Sam the piper, as, with his rolling gait, but at a good -pace, he walked on from the high road, running between Atherston and -Hinckley, down the narrower walk of the forest, which led, past the -cottage of the woodman, to the bank of the stream. His was a merry -heart, which sought and found happiness wherever it could be met with, -and bore misfortune or adversity as lightly as any heart that ever was -created. Oh, blessed thing, that cheerfulness of disposition, which -makes its own sunshine in this wintry world--blessed whencesoever it -comes, but most blessed when it springs from a fountain of conscious -rectitude, a calm unspotted memory, and a bright high hope!</p> - -<p class="normal">I cannot say that this was exactly the case with our good friend Sam; -but he had a wonderful faculty, notwithstanding, of forgetting past -pains and shutting his eyes to coming dangers. His wants were so few, -that he could entertain but small fear of their not being satisfied; -and, though his desires were somewhat more extensive, yet the rims of -a trencher and a pottle pot were sufficient to contain them. -Apprehensions, he entertained none; cares he had long before cast to -the winds; and by circumscribing his pleasures and his necessities, -within the smallest possible limits, it was wonderful how easily he -walked under the only pack he had to carry through the world. Other -men's sorrows and misfortunes, the strife of nations, intestine wars, -portents, or phenomena, acts of violence and crime, I may say, -afforded him amusement, without at all impugning poor Sam's kindness -of heart or goodness of disposition; for all I mean to say is, that -they gave him something to gossip about. Now gossiping and singing -were Sam's only amusements, since a brutal soldier had cut his bag in -twain. Drinking was with him a necessary evil, which he got over as -soon as possible, whenever he had the means.</p> - -<p class="normal">He was now on his way from Hinckley, to disgorge upon the abbey -miller, who lived near the bridge, all the budget of news he had -collected at that little town, and other places during the last -fortnight or three weeks. He would willingly have bestowed a part of -the stock upon Boyd the woodman; but he did not venture even to think -of doing so, inasmuch as Boyd had always affected to be as great an -enemy to gossip as the miller was a friend.</p> - -<p class="normal">The summer sunshine, however, coming a month or two before its time, -had lured Boyd to his door; and there he sat, with a large strong -knife in his hand, and sundry long poles of yew and other wood, -fashioning arrows with the greatest possible skill. It was wonderful -to behold how straight, and round, and even, he cut them without -compass or rule, or any other implement but the knife. Then too, how -neatly he adjusted the feathers to the shaft, from a bundle of grey -goose quills that lay on his left hand. Heads indeed were wanting; but -Boyd thought to himself, "I will bring six or eight score from -Tamworth when next I go. At all events it is well to be prepared."</p> - -<p class="normal">As he thus thought, the step of the piper, coming down the road, met -his ear, and he looked up; but Sam would have passed him by with a -mere "good morning," for he stood in some awe of Master Boyd, had not -the woodman himself addressed him, in a tone that might be called -almost kindly, saying:</p> - -<p class="normal">"Well, Sam. How goes the world with you? You have got a new coat and -hosen, I see."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Ay, thanks to the young lord's gold pieces," answered Sam. "He paid -well and honestly; and I took a mighty resolution, and spent it on my -back rather than on my belly."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Ay, some grace left!" exclaimed Boyd. "But what has happened to thy -pipes, man? They used always to be under thine elbow, and not stuck -into thy belt."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Those rascal troopers slit my bag," answered the piper; "and I shall -have to travel through three counties ere I get another. I lost a -silver groat, I am sure, by the want of it this very morning; for -there was a bright company at Hinckley, and some of them speaking the -Scottish tongue. Now every Scot loves the bagpipe."</p> - -<p class="normal">"But not such pipes as yours," answered Boyd. "Theirs are of a -different make. But who were these people, did you hear?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Nay, I asked no names," replied Sam; "for Scots do not like to be -questioned. But there was a fair lady with them--very fair and very -beautiful still, though the spring tide of her life had gone by--and -the people called her Highness."</p> - -<p class="normal">The woodman mused, and then inquired: "Were they all Scottish people?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Nay, some were English," answered Sam, "gallants of the king's court, -I judge, and speaking as good English as you or I do. But there were -Scottish persons of quality too, besides the lady who was so, I am -sure--for what English princess should she be?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"And were they all so gaily dressed then?" asked Boyd, in the same -musing tone.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Some were, and some were not," replied the piper; "but the lady -herself was plainest of them all, more like a nun than a princess. But -you can see them with your own eyes if you like; for they will pass by -in half an hour, if they keep to the time at which they said they -would set out. They are going to offer at St. Clare; and you may plant -yourself at the gate, or under a tree by the roadside, and they will -all pass you like a show."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I will," replied the woodman; and, rising from his seat, he put his -hat, which had been lying beside him, on his head, and was striding -away, when suddenly, seeming to recollect himself, he turned back, -saying to the piper, "I dare say thou art thirsty and hungry too, Sam. -Come in with me, and thou shalt have a draught of ale, and a hunch of -ewe-milk cheese."</p> - -<p class="normal">It was an invitation not to be refused by the piper, to whom meat and -drink rarely came amiss. He accordingly followed, and received what -was proffered gratefully. The woodman waited not to hear his thanks, -but, having seen him drink a moderate quart of ale, sent him away with -well nigh half a loaf of brown bread and a lump of cheese as large as -his two fists. Then, leaving his huge dog to watch the house, he, -himself, took his departure, and walked with a rapid pace to the road -which the piper had mentioned. There he stationed himself under the -very tree by which he had been standing on a night eventful to him, -when he had slain one of the king's couriers or posts. One would have -thought the memory must have been painful; but it seemed to affect him -not in the least. He stood and gazed upon the very spot where the man -had fallen; and, had there not been rain since then, the blood would -have been still upon the stones; but, if there was any change in his -countenance at all, it was merely that his brow somewhat relaxed, and -a faint smile came upon his lip. "It was the hand of justice," he said -to himself. "Yet 'tis strange there has been no inquiry. I went in and -touched the body; but it did not bleed. The inanimate corpse -recognised the hand of the avenger, and refused to accuse."<a name="div4Ref_04" href="#div4_04"><sup>[4]</sup></a></p> - -<p class="normal">He waited for some time, every now and then looking up the road, and -sometimes bending his head to listen. At length he caught the sound of -horses' feet coming at a slow pace, and making but little noise; for, -as I have said elsewhere, the road was sandy. He then looked up the -hill, and saw, coming slowly down, in no very regular order, a party -of from twenty to five and twenty persons, male and female. Without -waiting for anything but the first casual glance, he withdrew a little -further from the road, amongst the high bushes which skirted the -forest all round, intermingled with a few taller trees. There, where -he could see without being seen, he paused, and crossed his arms upon -his chest, looking intently through an aperture in the young green -leaves, which afforded a good view of a considerable part of the road. -At the end of some three or four minutes after he had taken his -station, the cavalcade began to appear. It was headed by a lady on a -fine grey horse, which she managed well and gracefully. The -description given of her appearance by the wandering musician was -quite correct, so far as it went. She was very beautiful, and her -skin, most delicately fair and soft, without a wrinkle. Her hair, -braided across the forehead, in a mode not usual in England, seemed -once to have been nut brown, but was now somewhat streaked with grey. -Her figure too was exceedingly fine, though not above the middle -height; but it had lost the great delicacy of youth, and assumed the -beauties of a more mature age. Her dress was exceedingly plain, -consisting of a grey riding-gown, cape, and hood, which had fallen -back upon her shoulders; but there was an air of graceful dignity in -her whole figure which was not to be mistaken. The expression of her -countenance was dignified also; but it was exceedingly grave--grave -even to melancholy.</p> - -<p class="normal">A number of much gayer-looking personages succeeded, and some of their -dresses were exceedingly beautiful and even splendid; but the eye of -the woodman--as that of most other people would have done--fixed upon -that lady alone, was never removed from her for an instant, and -followed her down the road till the trees shut her from his sight. -Then, after pausing for a moment or two, with his gaze firmly fixed -upon the ground, he cast himself down in the long grass, and buried -his face in his hands.</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h3>CHAPTER XXIV.</h3> -<br> - -<p class="normal">The hall was as light as day; for Lord Calverly was fond of a glare. -The feast was as delicate as he could have desired, and even the -critical taste of Sir Edward Hungerford found nothing to criticise. -The arrangement of the guests, however, was not altogether that which -best suited their several inclinations. There were many, with whom we -have little or nothing to do, who might, or might not, be placed as -they would have placed themselves; but, certainly, with regard to Iola -and Chartley, such was not the case; for she was seated between her -uncle and Lord Fulmer, while Chartley was at some distance from her, -on the opposite side of the table. Let the mind say what it would, the -heart told her she would rather have had him near. Her ear thirsted -for the tones of his voice, and her eye wandered for a moment, from -time to time, to his face, with a glance withdrawn as soon as given, -but with an impulse she could not controul. She was very young, and -very inexperienced, and some excuse must be made for her. She wished -to do all that was right, to avoid all that was wrong; but the heart -was rebellious, and would have its own way.</p> - -<p class="normal">Constance, too, could have wished something changed in her position. -Sir William Arden, it is true, had contrived to place himself on her -left; and with that part of the arrangement she was very well -satisfied; but Sir Edward Hungerford occupied the other side, and -there was hardly any one in all the hall whom she would not have -preferred.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Be merry, be merry, my friends," said excellent Lord Calverly, who -perceived that, for some reason or another, his guests were not as -cheerful as they might have been. "Let us all be gay; for in these -troublous times, when one sits down to the merry evening meal, with -friendly faces round us, it is never possible to tell when we shall -all meet again."</p> - -<p class="normal">"By St. Paul, that's a topic well calculated to promote hilarity!" -said Sir William Arden in a low voice to Constance; "and, to say -truth, dear lady, the castle hall does not seem to me so gay a place -as the abbey refectory."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I begin to think," said Constance, "that the calm shade of the -cloister may, upon the whole, contain more cheerfulness than the -laughter-loving world."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Pooh! We must not let you think so," said Sir William Arden. "Cannot -Sir Edward Hungerford persuade you of the contrary? He has been -trying, I think."</p> - -<p class="normal">He spoke in a whisper, and his words produced a slight smile, but no -blush, upon Constance's face, and her only reply was:</p> - -<p class="normal">"Hush, hush!"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Nay, then, if he can't succeed, I must try," continued Sir William; -"though, to say truth, it would be somewhat like an old suit of armour -dancing a quick step. But why should you not be happy in the world, as -well as your fair cousin?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Is she happy?" asked Constance, with a sigh.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Ay, that is a question, in regard to which I have some doubt," -answered the good knight; "but, no more at present; the popinjay is -turning round. Now, I'll warrant, he has discussed the whole question -of the superiority of cendel over laid silk, with that pretty little -thing on his right, who seems to have as many ideas as he has; and, I -will answer for it, half an hour's talk would make them both bankrupt, -so that they have stopped payment for lack of coin."</p> - -<p class="normal">"It is marvellous hot to-night, sweet lady Constance," said Sir Edward -turning towards her. "My cheek burns, till I am sure I must be rosy as -a country justice's serving-man."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Better that than white and yellow, like a lump of tallow," replied -Sir William Arden, across her. "These people, with their delicate -complexions, drive me mad, as if they thought a man, to be a courtier, -should look like a whey-faced girl, just emptied from the nursery. And -then they must blush too, and find the air oppressive; but there is -one way of banishing the red rose from your cheek. Faint, Hungerford, -faint outright! Then you'll be as pale as usual."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Did'st thou ever hear, fair lady, such a blustering old son of Mars -as this?" demanded Sir Edward Hungerford. "He thinks no one can fight -but himself, unless he be full of big oaths, with a face like ebony, -and a skin like a rhinoceros."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Nay, I know thou can'st fight, Hungerford, like a man," answered Sir -William Arden. "More shame for thee to talk like a woman, and dress -like a mountebank. If thou didst take as much care of thy pretty -person in the field, as thou dost in the hall, thou wouldst be a worse -soldier than thou art."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Gallantly said!" replied the other knight; and, turning again to -Constance, he continued the conversation with her, saying: "He is not -bad at main, this worthy man. Though, to hear him talk, we might -suppose him one of the devils; but it is all talk, dear lady. He is at -heart as gentle as a lamb, except when he is in the field; and then, -of course, he fights for company; but, polish is impossible with him. -His mother forgot to lick him when he was young, I suppose; and so we -have the bear in his native state."</p> - -<p class="normal">Sir William Arden laughed, though he was the object of the sarcasm; -and, looking round at Constance, he said:</p> - -<p class="normal">"It is all quite true, lady, as true as what I said of him. We are -famous for drawing each other's characters. So now, you have heard us -described each by the other, say which you like best."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Good, mighty good!" exclaimed Hungerford. "That is an offer of his -hand and heart."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Well, so be it," answered Sir William Arden, with a laugh. "That is -something solid at all events. He can offer nothing but a shadow in a -slashed doublet, a mere voice and a walking suit of clothes. Echo is -nothing to him, in respect of thinness; and I should fear his -undergoing Narcissus' fate, but that he loves himself better than even -Narcissus, and would not part with his own pretty person for anything -else whatsoever, be it substance or shadow. He will never pine himself -either into a flower or a water-course, as those young gentlemen and -ladies did in days of old."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I should be a great fool if I did," replied Hungerford; "but if you -were to begin to melt, Arden, all the world would thaw; for it is -difficult to say whether your head or your heart is the hardest."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Why, gentlemen, you are using very bitter words," said the pretty -lady, on the other side of Sir Edward Hungerford. "Really I must -appeal to my good Lord Calverly."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Nay, rather let me appeal to you," said Hungerford, in a tender tone; -and thenceforth he continued to talk with her till the supper was -over, which was all she wanted.</p> - -<p class="normal">"That shaft is shot," said Arden, resuming the conversation with -Constance, but speaking in a lower tone than before. "You asked but -now, 'Is she happy?' and, good faith, she does not look like it. Her -lips have hardly moved since we sat down to the board; but methinks -that question might be put of every one round. It is not the gay -smile, or the cheerful laugh, that shows a happy heart within; and I -doubt much, if you could see into every bosom along these two ranks of -human things, whether you would not find some hidden care, or some -sorrow that flies the light."</p> - -<p class="normal">"That is to say," replied Constance, "that every one who mingles with -the world finds unhappiness in it; a fine argument to keep me out of a -convent, truly. Either your gallantry or your wit halts, Sir William; -for, to my knowledge, there is many a happy heart beats in the -cloister."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Are there no masks there?" asked the stout knight. "If not, there are -veils, fair Constance; and, take my word for it, sooner or later, -there come regrets and repinings, longings to see the world that has -been renounced, and pluck some of the fruit of the pleasant tree of -knowledge, that bitter sweet, the pleasant berries of which tempt the -eye from afar, although there is now no serpent hid amongst the -foliage."</p> - -<p class="normal">"But look at my good aunt, the abbess," answered the young lady. "She -has none of these regrets and repinings that you mention. She is -always merry, cheerful, contented."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Ay, but hers is a case by itself," answered Arden. "She can get out -when she likes; and a good creature she is. Her life is as easy as a -widow's. No, no. Take my advice, and think not of a convent."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Why, what would you have me do in the wide world?" asked Constance, -half gaily, half sadly.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Why, marry to be sure," replied the good knight, "and have a score of -cherub babes, to cheer you with their pleasant faces. Let me tell you, -it is like having heaven round your knees, and you are not a whit the -less likely in the end to reach the heaven overhead."</p> - -<p class="normal">"But suppose no one would have me," answered Constance, with a smile.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Try all the young fellows first, and then try me," answered Sir -William, bluffly, but with a light laugh at the same time, which -softened the point of his words; and Constance answered--</p> - -<p class="normal">"No, no. A woman can try no one. I must be wooed and won."</p> - -<p class="normal">"On my life, if I thought you could," murmured Arden to himself, "I -think I would try;" but the words did not reach Constance's ear; and, -after a short pause of thought, the old knight said abruptly, "I don't -like your fair cousin's looks."</p> - -<p class="normal">"And yet they are fair looks too," answered Constance.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Ay, so are my cousin Chartley's," said the knight; "but I don't like -his looks either."</p> - -<p class="normal">"They are gay enough, surely," replied Constance. "See, he is laughing -even now."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Did you ever see a will-o'-the-wisp?" asked Sir William.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Yes," said Constance. "What of that?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"They flit over deep morasses and dangerous spots," answered the -knight. "Don't you let Chartley's laugh mislead you. See how he holds -his head in the air, with his nostril spread, and his lip curling. Be -sure, when he laughs with such a look as that, there is something very -bitter at his heart."</p> - -<p class="normal">"But they say he is half a prisoner here," rejoined Constance. "That -is enough to make him sad."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Would that were all," replied Arden; "but let us talk no more of him. -It is your fair cousin I am thinking of. When she sat opposite to me -at the abbey, a week or two ago, her eyes were like stars that -glistened up instead of down. Her brow was smooth and clear. Her lip -played in smiles with every thought. I would fain know what it is has -clouded that ivory brow, what it is weighs down that rosy arch, and -sinks the sweeping eye-lashes to her cheek."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I cannot tell," answered Constance, with a little mental reservation; -"but I suppose great changes coming, when they are foreseen, will make -the heart somewhat pensive."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Pensive, but not sorrowful," answered Arden. "Well, well," he added, -"I see your uncle moving in his seat, as if we should not be long side -by side. Let me see--when you were a little smiling child, just -toddling about your nurse's knee, I was in arms, dealing hard blows in -more than one stricken field. There is a mighty difference between our -ages, some four and twenty years perhaps--Nay, do not be afraid. I am -not going to ask you--but, methinks, a young thing like you may place -some confidence in a man old enough to be your father; and all I can -say is if you, or your fair cousin, need counsel of a head that has -had some experience, or help from an arm none of the weakest, you may -rely upon a heart which has been ever believed true to friend and foe, -to man or woman. There, my dear child, I have said my say. It is for -you to act upon it, as you think fit."</p> - -<p class="normal">Sunk almost to a whisper with much emotion, the voice of Constance -answered--</p> - -<p class="normal">"I thank you deeply;" and the next moment, according to a bad custom, -even then prevalent, the ladies of the party rose, and left the -gentlemen to pursue their revel unchecked.</p> - -<p class="normal">We must go back a little, however; for during the meal we have -followed only one little group at that long table. What was the -conduct, what were the thoughts of Lord Fulmer, while all this was -passing? He sat beside Iola in anguish, the anguish of doubt and -jealousy; and, conscious that his mood was not fitted to win or -please, he struggled with it sorely. He determined to use every -effort, both to conquer himself, and to gain her love; but it is -difficult to conquer an enemy without when there is an enemy within; -and the very effort embarrassed him. If he sat silent for a minute or -two, he was revolving what he should say. When he did speak, it was -not the tone or the words of the heart which came forth; the whole was -studied; the effort was too evident. He felt it, yet could not help -it; and Iola's reply did not generally aid or encourage him. It was -courteous but cold, civil but not kind--very brief too; and the moment -it was uttered, she fell into thought again. It was clear there was a -struggle in her mind, as well as his, and the only difference was, -that she did not strive to conceal it. He was angry with her and with -himself; with her, because she did not put on at least the semblance -of regard she did not feel; with himself, because he knew that his own -want of self-command was every moment betraying the interests of a -passion which was growing upon him more and more, even under doubt and -disappointment. Still he struggled, still he strove to please, or, at -least, to amuse; but it was in vain. His words were cold and formal, -and Iola was grave, absent, thoughtful, so that no conversation lasted -more than a minute. At length he gave it up. He struggled no more. He -yielded to the feelings within; but they impelled him in a very -different course from that of Iola. She saw, heard, marked, very -little of what passed at the table. Buried in her own thoughts, she -only roused herself from time to time, to reply to her uncle, who sat -at her side, or to answer the abbess, who was placed opposite, or to -give a momentary timid look towards the face of Chartley.</p> - -<p class="normal">Fulmer, on the contrary, was full of eager observation, quickened by -the passions in his heart. "I will know all," he thought. "I will -force Hungerford to tell me all--ay, this very night. I cannot live in -this torture any longer? and if I find it as I think, that man shall -answer me with his heart's best blood. What right had he to win the -affections of my contracted wife. He must have known that she was so. -Every one knew it; but I will be satisfied. Hungerford shall explain -his words before he lays his head upon his pillow."</p> - -<p class="normal">He could not be content to wait for that explanation, however; and, as -I have said, he watched, in order to ascertain, as far as possible, -how far the evil, which he suspected, had gone. Three times he saw the -eyes of Iola raised for an instant to Chartley's face, and then as -speedily withdrawn. Oh, what would he have given, in some mysterious -glass, to have seen a picture of the emotions which were passing in -her breast. The first time she looked at him, her colour was -heightened the moment she withdrew her eyes. He could not tell why, -and he puzzled himself to divine the cause. Was it that Chartley was -talking with another, and that his tone was gay? Or was it that she -found the eyes of the abbess upon her, and, blushed from -consciousness. The second time she looked that way, a slight passing -smile followed--the mere shadow of a smile. Was it that Chartley, -fallen into a fit of absence, committed some strange error, which made -those around him laugh. The next glance she gave left her in deeper -thought than ever; and to him her eyes seemed to swim in bright dew; -but she dropped the deep veil of long silken lashes over the -glistening drop, and it was hidden.</p> - -<p class="normal">In the mean time, what marked he in Chartley's conduct? It was the -same in some respects as Iola's, but different in others. He often -looked to the spot where she was seated; but it was in a calmer, -firmer, less timid manner. Once or twice his gaze was earnest, intent, -full of deep thought. There was no levity in it, none of the -confidence of knowing that he was loved. It was a look of almost -painful interest, deep, tender, grave; and once he fixed his eyes upon -Fulmer himself, and gazed at him long, notwithstanding an angry -expression which came upon the young lord's face. Busied altogether -with what was passing in his own mind, Chartley saw not that irritable -look, never fancied that it was called up by his own. He scanned every -feature of his face, as if he were scrutinizing some inanimate object -which could not perceive or comprehend the examination it was -undergoing. And yet that gaze almost drove Fulmer mad; and even the -way in which it was withdrawn, the fit of thought which succeeded, and -then the start, and the resumption of conversation with those around, -all irritated the young man more.</p> - -<p class="normal">Fortunately, some time elapsed before the gentlemen there present were -left without the restraint of ladies' presence; for Fulmer had time to -recover himself; and, though still highly irritated, to recollect what -was due to Iola, to himself, and to his entertainer. He resolved -to bridle his passion, and to guide it; and, could he have kept -the resolutions which he formed--he did not, as the reader will -see--though not altogether good ones, they were much better than the -wild impulses of passion.</p> - -<p class="normal">"There must be no quarrel <i>about her</i>," he thought. "I must not mingle -her name is our enmity--I have no right to do that. 'Tis easy to -provoke him upon some other subject; nor will I too hastily do that, -for the good old lord's sake. I will irritate him by degrees, till the -actual offence comes from him; and then to justify myself with my -sword is a right. I can do it with all courtesy too, and I will."</p> - -<p class="normal">If man's resolutions are generally rendered vain and fruitless, by the -force of circumstances, when they affect things over which he has no -control, it is sad to think that they should be so often rendered -ineffectual, by passions, when they refer only to his own conduct, -over which he should have the mastery. So, however, it is -often--almost always--I had well nigh said, ever. It was not otherwise -with Fulmer. His resolutions passed away, under the heat of his -temper, like the shadowy clouds of morning. Ere five minutes were -over, he was in full career to irritate, if not to insult, Chartley. -His resolutions to be courteous, to be moderate, were forgotten, and -his tone was very offensive.</p> - -<p class="normal">But the calm indifference of manner on Chartley's part, while it -provoked him, frustrated his purpose. His rival, for as such he now -fully looked upon him, heard any words he addressed to him calmly, -replied to them briefly, and then seemed to withdraw his thoughts from -him altogether. It was impossible to engage him in any irritating -conversation, his answers were so short, so tranquil, so conclusive; -and Fulmer, driven at length to seek more plain and open means of -offence, began to touch upon the cause of Chartley's having fallen -under the king's displeasure, thinking that thus, at least, he should -draw him forth from his reserve. But here old Lord Calverly at once -interposed.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Nay, nay, my noble friend," he said. "These are subjects that are -never spoken of, except when they are matters of mere business; but -methinks it is time to seek repose. My noble Lord Chartley, I will -once more conduct you to your lodging. After to-night, you will be -able, methinks, to find your way yourself;" and he at once rose from -the table.</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h3>CHAPTER XXV.</h3> -<br> - -<p class="normal">Each of the guests retired to his chamber; but, for some little time, -there was a considerable degree of bustle and movement in the castle, -pages and servants hurrying to and fro in attendance upon their -masters, and serving men clearing away the dishes from the hall, while -scullions scraped the trenchers, and the pantry-men cleaned out the -cups. Such operations however were not long in the performance; and -gradually the whole building resumed its quiet. A light might be seen -in a window here and there; and a lamp, which burned all night long in -the high tower, served as a sort of beacon to any traveller wandering -in the darkness, showing him afar where Chidlow castle stood. The -battlements all around were dark and solitary; for there were very -strict laws at that time in force, against collecting what might be -considered a garrison, in the fortified houses of the nobility, or -maintaining, except in a few special cases, watch and ward within the -old baronial castles. The policy of Richard, indeed, seems to have -been somewhat similar to that which was pursued in France, nearly two -centuries later, by the famous Cardinal de Richelieu; and he evidently -aimed at breaking down the feudal power, which had often rendered the -great barons such formidable enemies of the crown. He lived not long -enough, indeed, to carry out his object, or to enforce his laws; but -still the proclamation was in force against giving badges and liveries -to retainers, or, in other words, against maintaining a regular armed -force, arrayed and organised under certain symbols, and independent of -the crown. This law, it is true, was openly violated by many. Every -great house in the land was filled with armed men; badges were -retained, and displayed, in various instances; and many a castle was -as strictly guarded as if it had been a royal fortress. But all who -sought favour or courtly advancement were scrupulous to observe the -king's will; and, as Lord Calverly was one of these, all outward signs -of military precaution had been given up. The chief cannonier had -become the master porter; and the warders were now called porter's -men. The great gates, however, were still closed, bolted, and locked, -the drawbridge raised, and the portcullis let down at the hour of ten; -and the posterns were shut an hour earlier; but, in every other -respect, defensive measures, and, above all, military display, were -abandoned, and an appearance of security was assumed, which, in truth, -no one felt in England during the short reign of Richard III.</p> - -<p class="normal">All then was tranquil and quiet in Chidlow castle by half an hour -before midnight; and, although it was evident that some were still -watchers within its walls and towers, yet the greater part of the -guests were sound asleep, and almost all the others preparing for -repose.</p> - -<p class="normal">At about a quarter to twelve, however, Lord Fulmer, with a lamp in his -hand, issued forth from his sleeping-chamber, and walked along the -exceedingly narrow passage into which it opened. Our ancestors of that -age, and of the ages before them, were not very careful to provide -broad corridors or staircases for their guests. The greater and the -lesser halls, the gallery, if a castle had one, several nameless -chambers--which were frequently to be found in what poetically would -be called the lady's bower, but which about that time was more -generally denominated the lady's lodging--and, in short, all rooms of -state were spacious and magnificent enough; but many of the bed-rooms -were exceedingly small; and, where they were on a larger scale, for -the reception of more distinguished guests, the neighbouring passages -were curtailed in proportion.</p> - -<p class="normal">Along this passage then walked the young nobleman, with a slow and -thoughtful step. He had had time for meditation, and passion had -somewhat cooled down. His irritation had taken a more gloomy and stern -character, but it was not the less persisting. "I will know all," he -thought, "and then judge and act."</p> - -<p class="normal">Turning sharply to the right, at the end of the first ten or fifteen -yards, he entered and crossed a large sort of vestibule, occupying one -half of the space in one of the flanking towers.</p> - -<p class="normal">It had two windows in it, through one of which the moon was shining -brightly, marking the stone floor with the chequered shadows of the -leaden frame-work. He passed on, however, and then, turning to his -left, paused and opened a door, which admitted him to a little -ante-room. Two or three small beds were ranged around, of that kind -called by the French "<i>lit de sangle</i>;" but they were not occupied, -for their intended tenants, consisting of a page and two ordinary -attendants, were seated at a little table in the middle of the room, -gambling with dice. They all started up, however, when the young -nobleman entered; and, in answer to his question, whether Sir Edward -had retired to sleep, replied:--</p> - -<p class="normal">"Oh, dear no, my lord. He will not go to bed for some time;" and the -page, stepping forward, opened the door of the inner chamber, saying -aloud, "Lord Fulmer, sir."</p> - -<p class="normal">On advancing into the room, while the boy held back the tapestry, -Fulmer found Sir Edward Hungerford, with another person, standing -before a table, on which was spread out a large piece of -violet-coloured satin, whereunto were being applied, by the inferior -personage, an enormous pair of shears. The entrance of the young -nobleman made them both start; and the first exclamation of Sir Edward -was, "My God, you've cut it askew. Heaven and earth, what shall we do -now? There will never be enough in that corner to purfle the sleeves."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I beg your worship's pardon," replied the other, without taking any -more notice of Lord Fulmer than his master had done. "There will be -quite enough. If I cut it slant so, from the corner to the middle, it -will just leave what is needful for the bands."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I want to speak with you, Hungerford," said the young nobleman. "I -pray you, send this fellow away."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Wait a moment, wait a moment," replied the knight. "This is the most -important thing in life. You can't imagine what trouble it has given -us to devise.--Now, cut away, Master Graine, and let me see how you -will manage it?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Oh, quite easily," answered the other; and, delicately using his -shears, he cut the satin straight across, and then divided one part of -it into two, from which he again pared two long strips, pointing to -the whole in triumph, and saying, "There, worshipful sir, I told -you--"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Yes, yes, I see, I see," said Hungerford, in a meditative tone. "It -is a great question settled. Now, take them away; and, remember, I -shall want it by to-morrow night."</p> - -<p class="normal">The man bowed and withdrew; and then, for the first time, Sir Edward -turned to Lord Fulmer, and invited him to be seated, saying, "That was -a momentous business, Fulmer; and your imprudent entrance so suddenly -had well nigh spoiled all."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I did not know that you were engaged upon matters of life and death," -replied Fulmer, bitterly, lifting up the tapestry at the same time, to -see that the tailor had closed the door behind him.</p> - -<p class="normal">"I have somewhat of less importance to say," he then continued, -seating himself, "but still of some moment to me."</p> - -<p class="normal">"What is it, my dear lord?" asked Hungerford, taking a chair -opposite. "I can conceive nothing very important, when compared with -the cutting out of a surcoat. However, I have seen that you have been -uneasy--or to speak more accurately, nearly as hot in your skin as a -poor devil of a lollard, whom I once beheld, when I was a boy, burned -in a pitch barrel. He looked just as uncomfortable as you did at -supper, when one could get a sight of his face through the flames. I -wish you could bear as easy a mind as I do, and see the little value -of things that men make themselves uncomfortable about--and angry -about into the bargain, it would seem."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Nay, I am not in the least angry," replied Fulmer, who believed he -was speaking truth. "I merely want to hear some simple facts to which -you alluded somewhat mysteriously this morning. Marriage, you know, -Hungerford," he continued, affecting a light and jesting tone, the -better to conceal the bitter feelings within, "marriage, you know, is -a matter of destiny; but, when a man is about to unite his fate to a -fair lady, it is quite as well that he should be made aware of all -previous passages, in order that he may take his measures -accordingly."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Upon my word, I disagree with you," answered Hungerford, with a -smile. "No man should ever do anything that can make him uneasy. Calm -and perfect indifference to all things in life is the only means of -obtaining that greatest blessing in life--tranquillity. If we have a -stock of enthusiasm, which must be spent upon something, it is much -better to spend it upon what you call trifles, because, if any -misadventure happens, the evil is easily repaired. Now, if when you -came in just now, you had made Master Graine irremediably damage that -piece of satin, which I should have considered the greatest misfortune -in the world, I could send a man on horseback to London or York, to -get me another piece, and thus the evil is cured. But, if a man cuts -another man's throat, or makes his wife hate him by black looks and -cold words, he cannot give his friend a new throat, or send to York -for a new love."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Pshaw!" exclaimed Fulmer, sharply. "I wish to Heaven you would be -serious but for a moment."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I am perfectly serious," replied Hungerford. "The only question is, -which is the best philosophy, yours or mine? However, each man knows -his own nature. What do you wish to ask me?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Simply this," answered Fulmer. "What is the previous acquaintance to -which you alluded with a sneer, this morning, between my contracted -wife, the Lady Iola St. Leger, and that very noble and excellent -gentleman, the Lord Chartley?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"With a sneer, my dear lord!" exclaimed Hungerford. "See what it is to -be of an imaginative disposition. I sneered not at all."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Then the simple question," rejoined Fulmer, restraining his feelings -with a great effort, "what know you of their acquaintance?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Mighty little, my good lord," replied Sir Edward Hungerford, who was, -to say the truth, a little amused by the eager impetuosity of his -companion, and somewhat inclined to spur him on, merely for the joke's -sake; but, knowing that the affair might have very serious -consequences, he kept to the strict truth, and even within it, though -he could not refrain from playing a little with Fulmer's impatience. -"Be it known unto you then," he continued, "that somewhere about a -fortnight ago--let me see. It was on Monday----"</p> - -<p class="normal">"The date matters little," said Fulmer, moodily. "All I want are the -facts."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Well, about a fortnight ago, then," continued Hungerford, "as I was -riding from London, I chanced to stumble upon my good friend Lord -Chartley, at the little inn at Kimbolton. The whole place was occupied -by himself and his people; but he kindly made room for me, and gave me -an excellent good supper, prepared by his own cook. The snipes were -excellent; and there was an alaud of salmon, I never tasted anything -better--"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Well, well, what then?" said Fulmer, quickly.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Why, I thought him too good a companion to be parted with easily," -said Hungerford. "So we passed the evening in talking of Bohemia, -where we had last met, and drawing savoury comparisons between the -cookery of that rude land and good old England. Finding we were -travelling the same way, I joined myself to his train, which was -discreet and well ordered, having a friar to bless the meat, and a -cook to cook it. Good faith, it was a pleasant journey; and I put -myself in mind of the gentleman who gave crumbs to Lazarus; for I took -care to be dressed in purple and fine linen, and with him I fared -sumptuously every day. At length, one evening, after having dallied -away some time at Tamworth, we stopped to sup at the abbey of St. -Clare--an abbey of nuns, you know--"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Yes, yes. I know all about it," replied Fulmer. "Go on."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I had no inclination to go on, when I was there, I can assure you, my -good lord," said Hungerford, laughing; "for right happily did the -merry little abbess entertain us, and not only supped with us herself, -in the strangers' refectory, but brought a prioress as deaf as a post, -and the two pretty cousins, her nieces, Iola and Constance. The Lady -Iola sat next to my noble friend; and, as a courteous gentleman, he -did his best to entertain her, and, to my thinking, succeeded. I could -have made up my mind to lodge there for the night; but Chartley was -peremptory to go forward to Hinckley. So, after supper, we rode on. -The friar, indeed, remained behind, pretending to be sick; and, when -we had got some two miles through the wood, Chartley suddenly -perceived--how, I know not, for it was dark enough amongst the -trees--that some one had left the train. It turned out to be one of -Sir Charles Weinant's men; for that smooth gentleman was with -us--playing the traitor, if I mistake not. However, Chartley set spurs -to his horse to catch the deserter, telling us to ride on, and he -would overtake us. We good people did as he bade; but we got to -Hinckley before him, and were roused early the next morning from our -beds, by news that his lordship was in danger, and needed our instant -help. Arden was in the saddle in a moment; and away we went pell mell, -getting what intelligence we could, till we came to the wood which -covers the hills over the abbey. There we found the whole place full -of soldiers, searching a bit of the forest ground, for whom or what we -could not learn; and, at length, riding round between the wood and the -abbey, we found Chartley, his tawny Moor, and half a dozen woodmen, -keeping a pass between two banks against Catesby, and a good number of -the king's soldiers."</p> - -<p class="normal">He paused, and rubbed his temple, till Lord Fulmer exclaimed:--</p> - -<p class="normal">"Well, what then?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Why, that is all I know, of my own knowledge," answered Hungerford, -"except that Chartley's coat seemed somewhat worse for a night's -lodging in the forest."</p> - -<p class="normal">"There is something more, Sir Edward Hungerford," said Fulmer, in a -low, stern, bitter tone. "I must know it."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Perhaps it is better to tell the rest," said the knight; "although, -you must remember, my good lord, that I now speak only what I have -gathered from other people's conversation. Of course, Chartley had not -planted himself there, and embroiled himself with the king's troops, -for nothing; and I made out, that his resistance was offered to cover -the retreat of a lady into the convent. She had, by some chance, been -out in the wood at night, and was cut off by the soldiers, who were -searching, it seems, for good old Doctor Morton, the bishop of Ely. -Chartley had met with her, and gallantly escorted her through the -midst of the men; but, to do him all justice, he spoke of her with -knightly reverence; and moreover, I should have told you before, that -this friar of his, who, as I said blessed the meat, was none other -than the good bishop himself, in effecting whose escape Chartley had -the principal share. Thus, he had a personal interest in the whole -matter."</p> - -<p class="normal">Fulmer pressed his hand upon his brow, and murmured: "Alone with him -in the wood all night!"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Nay, nay, my good lord, do not so disturb yourself," said Hungerford. -"Chartley is a man of very peculiar notions, and doubtless----"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Pshaw!" said Lord Fulmer. "I do not disturb myself in the least, -Doubtless, he is full of courtesy, and a man of high honour--All night -in the wood with him!--I will go out upon the ramparts and walk. The -moon is shining clear."</p> - -<p class="normal">"You had better keep out of the moonlight, my good lord," said -Hungerford, carelessly. "Stay, I will throw on a hood and come with -you."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I would rather be alone," answered Lord Fulmer; and, taking up his -lamp, he left the room.</p> - -<p class="normal">Hurrying along the narrow passage, he soon reached that large open -sort of vestibule, which I have mentioned, in one of the square -flanking towers; and there he paused, and stood for a moment or two -with his eyes fixed upon the ground in deep thought. After a while, a -sound, as of voices singing, came upon his ear. At first it did not -wake him from his reverie; but gradually it seemed to steal upon his -senses and call his thoughts, at least in some degree, from that which -had previously occupied them. There were seats on either side; and, -setting down the lamp on one of them, he opened the window which -looked to the south west, and through which the moonlight was -streaming. The music then became more distinct, though it evidently -proceeded from a great distance. It was calm, and sweet, and solemn; a -strain of exquisite melody, not so rich and full in the harmony, -indeed, as the anthems or masses of the Roman church, but yet -apparently of a religious character. It seemed a hymn; and, after -listening for a moment, Fulmer said:--</p> - -<p class="normal">"This is strange! What can it mean? I will go forth and listen. It -seems to come from the wood, there. I shall hear better on the -battlements."</p> - -<p class="normal">Descending the narrow winding staircase, which terminated the passage -about ten yards beyond the door of his own apartments, he entered the -inner court, and thence, through a tall archway, reached the outer -court, beyond which lay the ramparts. Then ascending by the steps to -the top of the wall, he walked round, till he had reached a spot -exactly below the window in the square tower. The music, however, had -ceased; and he listened for some minutes in vain, though he thought he -heard a murmur of many voices speaking or reading altogether.</p> - -<p class="normal">The momentary excitement of curiosity passed away; and, sitting down -upon a stone bench placed for the warders' temporary repose, ha leaned -his arm upon the battlement, and returned to his dark thoughts. Still, -the calm and solemn scene around, the grey landscape lying stretched -out afar in the moonlight, the waving lines of hill and dale faintly -traced in the dim obscurity, the light mist lying in the hollows, a -bright gleaming line in the distance where the rays fell upon some -sheet of water, the tall dark towers of the castle rising by his side, -the blue sky overhead, flooded in the south west with silver radiance, -and in the north and east speckled with gemlike stars, the motionless -air, the profound silence, seemed to calm and still his angry -feelings, if not to soften or remove them. There are things in life, -which, like frost, harden while they tranquillize. Such was not -altogether the case with him, but still the root of bitterness was in -his heart.</p> - -<p class="normal">He paused and thought; but, before many minutes had passed, the music -burst forth again, rising and falling in solemn swell and cadence, -evidently many voices singing some holy song. It came from far; no -articulate sounds reached his ear; but music is a language--a language -understood by the whole earth--speaking grand truths to the heart; -wordless, but more eloquent than all words. If he was not softened -before, he was softened now; if his spirit before had been tied down -to earthly passions, it was now, for a time at least, elevated, above -himself.</p> - -<p class="normal">I have said "for a time;" for Richard had described him rightly. He -was a man of varying moods, naturally generous, high-minded, kind, but -subject to all the impulses of the clay, and in whom there was an -everlasting warfare between the mortal and immortal. He thought of -Iola, and her beauty, and the dreams which in his imaginative heart he -had dreamed of her; and still that wild and thrilling strain sounded -in his ears amidst the solemn scene, raising his feelings up, above -selfishness, and worldly lessons, to generous feelings and noble -aspirations. He thought what a grand though melancholy joy it would be -to give her happiness even by the sacrifice of his own. Something of -pride might mingle with it too; for, in the picture of the mind, Iola -was seen confessing that she had misunderstood him, and admiring where -she could not love; but still it was not a low pride; and he felt more -satisfied, more at peace with himself. His eyes wandered over the -space before him, and he recollected how he had seen it that very day, -as he rode towards the castle, lighted up with sunshine, bursting -forth into green life, and full of the song of birds. Now it was all -grey and still, with no sounds, but that faint echo-like hymn, pouring -on the air like the dirge of departed hopes. It seemed a picture of -his own fate, so lately lighted up with bright expectations, and now -all dark and cold.</p> - -<p class="normal">Suddenly, on the green slope beyond the walls, he saw a figure--a -woman's figure, clad in white. With a quiet gliding motion, it walked -quickly on; and, ere he had recovered from his surprise, it had -disappeared amongst the first trees at the nearest angle of the wood. -He thought it looked like Iola, that its movements were like hers, so -easy, so effortless, so graceful. He turned towards the place where he -knew her chamber was, and gazed up. There was a light still burning -there, and, as he gazed, a female figure passed across the window.</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h3>CHAPTER XXVI.</h3> -<br> - -<p class="normal">Had he been chief warder of a beleaguered fort, Lord Fulmer could not -have examined every gate and sally port of the castle more carefully -than he did, when he descended from the walls. The figure which he had -beheld had evidently seemed to come from the castle; but how it had -issued forth he could not divine. Every postern was barred, bolted, -and chained; and the porter, and the porter's men were all snoring in -their dens, of which he had ocular proof before he retired. The fat -old porter, whom he had roused and informed of what he had seen, -treated the matter lightly, saying, half sleeping, half waking, it was -impossible: it must have been the moonlight on the bank, or a white -thorn coming into flower. But, when Fulmer reminded him that the month -of May was still far off, and told him he had seen the figure move for -some distance, he quietly replied--</p> - -<p class="normal">"Then it must have been a spirit. There are plenty hereabout;" and, -lying down on his pallet again, he was asleep before the young -nobleman had quited the lodge.</p> - -<p class="normal">Fulmer almost felt inclined to believe that the porter's last -supposition was correct, and that the music he had heard was a strain -of unearthly melody. Perhaps there have been few ages in the world's -history more grossly superstitious than those which immediately -preceded the reformation. The process of darkening the human mind, by -which alone the errors of the church of Rome can be maintained, had -been going on for so many centuries, that it had almost reached -completeness; and the art of printing, the precursor of Luther, had -not yet fulfilled its mission; and though here and there a few great -minds were to be found which shook off the garment of superstition -with which the papal church had liveried the world--though Wicliffe -and John Huss had given the first terrible blow to Rome, yet her -partizans laboured but the more strenuously to retain for her the -shadowy empire she had created. At this very time new saints were -made, and their days appointed to be honoured; and the festivals of -old saints were, in many instances, ordered to receive double -celebration. In England, especially, every false, abominable, and -idolatrous dogma was more sternly and clearly defined, in order to -prevent the escape of the Wicliffites through any ambiguity of -language. It was solemnly declared that not one particle of the -sacramental bread remained bread after consecration, that every drop -of the cup was blood. Pilgrimages, the worship of saints, the -adoration of the cross and of relics, were enjoined under the penalty -of fire; and everything that could lead or tend to superstition was -encouraged and upheld. Taught to believe so much of the supernatural -within the church, it is not wonderful that the great mass of the -people, high and low, should believe in much of the supernatural -beyond the church, and that the priest should encourage them in so -doing.</p> - -<p class="normal">Nevertheless, Lord Fulmer was by no means one of the most -superstitious of his class. To doubt the occasional apparition of -spirits, or even devils, he would not have ventured; but to believe -that he had seen one was very different; and, not knowing what to -think, or what solution to give to the mystery, he retired to his -chamber, and lay down to rest. Sleep did not visit his eyes for some -hours; but still he rose early, roused his attendants in the -antechamber, and dressed for the day. He then gazed forth from the -window for a moment or two; but, as something passed before his eyes, -he turned round with a sudden start, and a flushed cheek, and went -out.</p> - -<p class="normal">He passed quickly, through the courts, towards the walls; but, at the -foot of the steps, he paused and thought, for a moment or two, and -then mounted to the battlements with a slower step and more tranquil -air.</p> - -<p class="normal">About fifty yards in advance was Chartley, the man he sought, walking -tranquilly towards him, with his arms folded on his chest, and his -eyes bent down in meditation. They were now alone together on the -walls; and Fulmer thought that there could be no better time for -saying what he proposed to say than that moment. His mood, however, -had varied from that of the night before; and, at first, he addressed -Lord Chartley courteously enough.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Good morning, my lord," he said "Summer is coming on us with a -swallow's wing;" and he turned to walk back with his companion.</p> - -<p class="normal">"It is indeed very warm," answered Chartley, mildly; "and the air here -seems temperate and fine."</p> - -<p class="normal">There the conversation halted for a moment, for Lord Fulmer made no -answer, and walked on in silence, till they had nearly reached the -angle of the wall. There was a struggle going on within--a struggle -for calmness; for he felt agitation growing upon him.</p> - -<p class="normal">At length, however, he said--</p> - -<p class="normal">"I find, my lord, that you are well acquainted with the Lady Iola St. -Leger, and that you rendered her some service a little time ago."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Service of no great importance," replied Chantey; "and which any -gentleman would render to any lady."</p> - -<p class="normal">"You are, I suppose, aware that she is contracted to me as my future -wife," said Lord Fulmer, turning his eyes full upon Chartley's face.</p> - -<p class="normal">"I was not aware of it at the time," answered Chartley, holding his -head very high. "I am now."</p> - -<p class="normal">"That near connexion," continued Fulmer, "not only gives me a right, -but requires me, my good lord, to inquire into the nature of the -service that you rendered her, that I may"--he added with a sort of -sarcastic smile, "that I may proportion my thanks to its degree."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I require no thanks," answered Chartley, coldly. "Of what is required -of you, my lord, I am no judge. Your right to make the inquiry, I am -not called upon to consider; and the lady herself will doubtless give -you what information she thinks fit upon the subject."</p> - -<p class="normal">Fulmer strove to put down the wrath which was rising up in his bosom; -but yet there was a great degree of sharpness in his tone as he -replied--</p> - -<p class="normal">"My right to make the inquiry, my good lord, you are called upon to -consider; for I make that inquiry of you."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Then I refuse to answer it," replied Chartley. "If a gentleman have -rendered a lady service in any way, it is not his business to speak of -it. She may do so, if she thinks proper but his part is different."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Then, my lord," replied Fulmer, "if you give me not account in one -way, you must in another;" and he set his teeth hard, as if to keep -down the more violent words which were ready to spring to his lips.</p> - -<p class="normal">Chartley laughed.</p> - -<p class="normal">"On my life," he said, "this is the strangest sort of gratitude which -it has been my lot to meet with in this wonderful world! Here is a man -comes to give me thanks, and then calls me to a rude account, because -I will not tell him why! What is the meaning of all this, my lord? -Your strange conduct certainly requires explanation--far more than any -part of mine, which has always been very open and simple."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Oh, if you think it requires explanation," exclaimed Lord Fulmer, -readily, "I am quite ready to yield it, after the fashion that I -hinted."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Is that a worthy answer, Lord Fulmer?" demanded Chartley. "You seem -determined to find cause of quarrel with me, and can meet with no more -reasonable pretext than that I once did some slight service to a lady -affianced to you."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Exactly so," replied Lord Fulmer, dryly.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Well, then," cried Chartley, tossing back his head, "I answer, I will -not quarrel with you on such ground. Charge me fairly--accuse me of -any wrong that I have done you, or any mortal man, or woman either, -and I will either clear myself or make reparation with my person at -the sword's point; but I will not bring a lady's name in question, by -quarrelling with any man on such a plea as this you bring. If you have -aught to say against me, say it boldly."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Have you not already brought her name in question, by passing one -whole night with her in the woods of Atherston?" demanded Fulmer, -sternly. "Have you not made it a matter of light talk with lighter -tongues--"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Stay, stay!" exclaimed Chartley, "I do not rightly understand you. Do -you mean to say that I ever have lightly used that lady's name--that I -have ever made it the subject of my conversation at all?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"No," answered Fulmer, gravely. "That I cannot say; but I aver that -you have given occasion for its being talked of by others, in -remaining with her one whole night, as I have said, in the woods of -Atherston."</p> - -<p class="normal">Chartley laughed again.</p> - -<p class="normal">"He would have had me leave her to her fate, in the midst of the -wood!" he exclaimed; "or else have had her fall into the hands of -Catesby's rude soldiery, or the ruffian mercenaries of Sir John -Godscroft, who were, even at the moment I met her, daintily engaged in -burning down the buildings on the abbey green! By St. Peter, the man -seems to have a rare notion of courtesy towards a lady! Let me tell -you, Lord Fulmer, that had I left her, she must have encountered those -who would have treated her somewhat more roughly than I did. Stay, -stay, a moment. I have not yet done. You say that I have given -occasion for people to talk lightly of her. Give me the name of one -who has dared, even by a word, to couple her name to mine in aught -that is not pure--ay, even in a jest--and I will make him eat his -words or send him to the devil a day before his time."</p> - -<p class="normal">Fulmer gazed down upon the ground in moody silence. "There may be -words," he said at length, "which, separate from the tone and manner, -imply but little, but which, eked out with nods and smiles and -twinklings of the eye, would go far to blast the fairest reputation. -In a word, Lord Chartley, I will not have it said, that the woman I -make my wife has passed the whole night alone, in a wild wood, with -any living man."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Then do not make her your wife," answered Chartley. "That is easily -settled."</p> - -<p class="normal">"There is another way of settling it," replied Lord Fulmer, bitterly, -"by cutting the throat of him who has done so with her."</p> - -<p class="normal">"So, so, are you there?" answered Chartley, now made angry, in spite -of himself.</p> - -<p class="normal">"If such be the case, my lord, I will not baulk you. I might refuse -your appeal, as a prisoner in ward. I might refuse it, as having no -reasonable grounds; but I will not do so; and satisfaction you shall -have of the kind you demand; for no earthly man shall say I feared -him. But this, my good lord, is not without a condition. It shall be -fully and entirely known, how and why you have forced me to this--what -is the quarrel you have fixed upon me--and why I have consented. All -this shall be clearly stated and proclaimed, for my own character's -sake. This I have a right to demand."</p> - -<p class="normal">"But the lady's fair name!" exclaimed Fulmer, alarmed at the -condition.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Who is it that blackens it?" demanded Chartley, fiercely. "Not I, but -you, Lord Fulmer. I proclaim her pure, and good, and true, to you, to -me, and all men; and you, if any one, shall stand forth as her -calumniator, in forcing this unjust quarrel upon me. I cast the -responsibility upon you; and now I leave you."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Stay, sir, stay," exclaimed Fulmer, driven almost to fury. "You have -called me calumniator; and you shall answer for that word, or I will -brand you as a coward in every court of Europe."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Methinks you would get but few to believe you," replied Chartley, -proudly; "but let me tell you, if you dare venture to use that term to -me, before any competent witnesses, I will punish you on the spot as -you deserve. You think, my lord, by taking me here in private, to -gratify your malice while you conceal your own weakness, and to leave, -perhaps, the blame upon me; but you are mistaken, if you think you -have to do with a feeble-minded and passionate boy like yourself."</p> - -<p class="normal">Fulmer lost all command over himself; and drawing his sword at once, -though close before the castle windows, he exclaimed, "Draw! I will -bear no more."</p> - -<p class="normal">But Chartley was comparatively cool, while his adversary was blind -with passion; and, springing upon him with a bound, he put aside the -raised point with his hand, and wrenched the sword from his grasp, -receiving a slight wound in doing so. Then, holding his adversary in a -firm grasp, he cast the weapon from him over the castle wall.</p> - -<p class="normal">"For shame," he said, after a moment's pause, "for shame, Lord Fulmer -Go back, sir, to the castle; and, if you have those honourable -feelings, those somewhat fantastic and imaginative notions, which I -have heard attributed to you, think over your own conduct this -morning--ay, think over the doubts and suspicions, unjust, and base, -and false as they are, in which such conduct has arisen, and feel -shame for both. I am not apt to be a vain man; but when I scan my own -behaviour in the events which have given rise to all this rancour on -your part, and compare it with your conduct now, I feel there is an -immeasurable distance between us; and I regret, for that sweet lady's -sake, that she is bound by such ties to such a man."</p> - -<p class="normal">"You have the advantage, my lord, you have the advantage," repeated -Fulmer, doggedly. "The time may come when it will be on my part."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I think not," answered Chartley, with one of his light laughs; "for -we are told God defends the right, and I will never do you wrong."</p> - -<p class="normal">Thus saying, he turned upon his heel, descended the steps, and walked -back into the castle.</p> - -<p class="normal">Fulmer followed with a slow and sullen step, his eyes bent down upon -the ground, and his lips, from time to time, moving. He felt all that -had occurred the more bitterly, as he was conscious that it was his -own fault. He might feel angry with Chartley; his pride might be -bitterly mortified; he might have every inclination to cast the blame -upon others; but there was one fact he could not get over, one truth, -which, at the very first, carried self-censure home. He had violated -all his own resolutions; he had given way to passion, when he had -resolved to be calm and cool; and this conviction, perhaps, led him -some steps on the path of regret for his whole conduct. At all events, -passing through his ante-room without speaking to any of his servants, -he entered his own chamber, and cast himself down upon a seat, to -scrutinize the acts he had committed.</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h3>CHAPTER XXVII.</h3> -<br> - -<p class="normal">Let us return to the close of supper on the preceding night. The -abbess and her two fair nieces, with some other ladies who had been -congregated in the castle, retired, first, to a little hall, above -that where they had supped, and then, after a short conversation, -separated into various parties, and sought the chambers where they -were to take repose. Iola, Constance, and their aunt, retired to the -bed-room of the former, before they parted for the night, and sat and -talked for a few minutes in a calm tone.</p> - -<p class="normal">"My dear child, you look sad," said the abbess; "has any thing vexed -you?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"No, dear aunt, nothing more than usual," answered Iola, forcing a -laugh. "I suppose a man may be merry enough, when he knows he is to be -hanged at the end of a year; but the case alters when he finds himself -at the day before the hanging."</p> - -<p class="normal">"A hang dog simile, my child," said the abbess. "But fie, Iola, put -away such thoughts. Marriage is an honourable state, though it lacks -the sanctity of devotion; and I doubt not it is a very comfortable -condition, though, good lack, I have never tried it, and never shall -now;" and she laughed a little at the thought. "Well, well, methinks -you ought to be content," she continued; "for, certainly he is a very -fair and handsome young man."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Is he?" said Iola, in an indifferent tone. "I thought he was dark."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Well, his hair and eyes are dark," replied her aunt, "and his skin -somewhat brownish; but what I meant was, that he is good-looking and -manly. I do not think your fair men, with pink cheeks, handsome for my -part, though I take but little heed to men's beauty--why should I? -However, I say he is as handsome a young man for a husband as woman -would wish to choose."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I must have him for a husband whether I choose or not," answered -Iola; "so, handsome or ugly, it comes to the same."</p> - -<p class="normal">Constance thought for a moment, and then said, in a quiet tone, "I do -not think he is so handsome as Lord Chartley;" and she gave a quick -glance towards her cousin's face as she spoke.</p> - -<p class="normal">Iola's cheek was crimson in a moment, but she said nothing; and the -abbess exclaimed gaily, "Oh, this world, this world. I see it will -steal your heart away from us, Constance. No more vows and veils for -you now. Well, do as you like, my child. I have found a convent life a -very happy one--perhaps, because there was no choice, and I resolved -to make the best of it; and, if Iola would take her aunt's advice, she -would look upon marriage as much the same, and make the best of it -too."</p> - -<p class="normal">With this piece of exceeding good counsel, the worthy lady rose and -left her two fair companions; and, no sooner was she gone, than -Constance moved closer to her cousin, and, laying her hand upon -Iola's, looked tenderly into her face.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Give me your heart, Iola," she said. "You have withdrawn your -confidence from me, and your heart must have gone with it."</p> - -<p class="normal">Iola bent down her forehead on her cousin's shoulder, and wept without -reply.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Nay, dear cousin," continued Constance, "if not for my sake--if not -for old affection's sake, and for love, which, unlike the love of the -world, can never weary or wax old--for your own sake, give me your -confidence as in days of yore. Tell me your heart's feelings and your -mind's thoughts; for, be sure that there are few, if any, situations -in life, in which counsel cannot bring comfort."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I will, I will, Constance," said Iola, wiping away the tears. "These -foolish drops," she continued, "spring but from a momentary weakness, -my Constance. I have borne up and struggled hard till now. It is -kindness that shakes me."</p> - -<p class="normal">"But then tell me," said her cousin, "tell me whence they spring, -Iola. I see you are unhappy--miserable. I would fain help you, or, at -least, console you; but I know not how."</p> - -<p class="normal">"What would you have, dear Constance?" said Iola, mournfully. "You -must see it--I love him not--I can never love him; and yet in a few -days, I know not how soon, I must vow at the altar to love him for -ever. Is not that a hard fate, dear Constance?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"It might be worse," answered Constance. "How worse?" demanded Iola in -surprise. "If you loved another," said her cousin, slowly and -sorrowfully.</p> - -<p class="normal">Again the crimson glow spread over Iola's brow and cheek, followed by -a warm gush of tears; but Constance twined her arms round her saying:</p> - -<p class="normal">"I have your secret now, dear Iola. That is over. Let us speak freely -of all things. But first, for some comfort--though it be but a -reprieve. My uncle told me, just before supper, that the king's -consent to the celebration of the marriage has not been obtained; that -Richard begs him to delay, till he and the queen can be present. It -may be long first; for poor queen Ann, they declare, is gone mad upon -the death of the prince. It must be some months; for they cannot be -present at a marriage in mourning. But, what is very strange, my uncle -seemed well satisfied with the delay."</p> - -<p class="normal">Iola sat and gazed at her as she spoke, with a look of wonder, as if -the tidings were so unexpected and incredible, even to hope, that she -could hardly comprehend what she heard. The next instant, however, she -started up and clapped her hands with a look of childlike joy.</p> - -<p class="normal">"A reprieve!" she cried. "Oh, it is everything. It is everything. It -is comfort. It is life. It is hope!" and then, casting herself upon -her cousin's neck, she wept again, sobbing as if her heart would -break.</p> - -<p class="normal">Constance tried to calm her, but her words seemed not to reach Iola's -mind; for, when the tears had had their way, she sprang up, clasping -her hands again, and crying, with the same radiant look, "Months, did -you say? Oh, moments were a blessing--who can tell what months may -bring forth? They have sometimes swept away empires. Now, we shall -have time to think, and speak, and act. Before, I thought it was -useless to take counsel even with you, dear Constance; for what could -counsel avail, when the event was hurrying on with such terrible -rapidity. It seemed like one of those mountains of snow, which I have -heard of, falling in the Alps, where, though they be seen thundering -down, 'tis vain to fly, or move, or think; for their coming is too -rapid, their extent too wide; and all that remains is to call upon the -name of God and die."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Good Heaven, what an image!" exclaimed Constance; "and have you -really suffered all this, my poor Iola?--But now tell me what has -passed between you and Lord Chartley?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Nothing," replied Iola; and, be it remarked that, at every word she -uttered, her spirits seemed to revive more and more, as if nothing but -the intolerable burden which had been cast upon them had been able to -keep them down, and that, as soon as it was removed, they sprang up -again fresher than ever. "Nothing at all, but what I have told you, -dear Constance. For the world, I would not have told you a falsehood."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Then, nothing has been said to make you think he loves you as you -love him!" asked Constance.</p> - -<p class="normal">Iola blushed a little, and looked down; but, there was an expression -of arch meaning about her smiling lips; and she replied:--</p> - -<p class="normal">"Nothing has been said, it is true, dear Constance; but a good deal -has been looked. How the tone, how the eyes change the whole meaning -of cold words: I have not loved, unbeloved, I hope--I trust--I -believe. Men are deceivers, you will say, and in nought more deceitful -than their looks. Perhaps you will tell me too that Chartley, this -very night, was gay and joyful, that he laughed and talked with those -around him, not at all like a disappointed lover. But he was not -joyful at his heart, Constance. I watched and saw it all. I saw that -the laugh was forced, the merriment unreal. I marked the sudden fit of -thought, the gloomy look that chequered the smile, the head held high, -and the curling lip which scorned the words the tongue uttered."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Alas, that you should have watched so closely," answered Constance; -and, after a moment's thought, she added; "but, as we are to have -confidence in each other, dear Iola, I must feign nothing with you; -and I do believe that it is as you say. Nay, more. There is another, -who knows him better than I do, who thinks so too."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Who? Who?" demanded Iola, eagerly.</p> - -<p class="normal">"None other than good Sir William Arden," answered Constance; and she -went on to give her cousin a sketch of the conversation which had -taken place between herself and her companion at supper.</p> - -<p class="normal">"I saw you talking very busily," replied Iola, with a smile; "but in -truth, dear Constance, I almost fancied you and the good knight had -better subjects of conversation than the fate of Iola and Chartley. -Well, thank Heaven, we have got another in the plot, who can give us -good help too, in the hour of need, perhaps."</p> - -<p class="normal">"A plot!" said Constance, with a look of apprehension. "What plot do -you intend to form, Iola?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Now she is frightened out of her wits!" cried Iola, laughing as -merrily as ever. "No plot, dearest cousin. I spoke in my wild way, and -gave it a wild name. Only this, Constance, be sure of, that if there -be a means of escape--and what may not this respite produce--I will -not give my hand to Lord Fulmer--no, even though a convent should be -my only refuge, though Heaven knows, thinking as I think, that would -be bad enough."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Thinking as you think--I do not understand what you mean, Iola," said -her cousin in some surprise.</p> - -<p class="normal">Iola thought gravely for a moment or two, before she spoke; but at -length she replied:</p> - -<p class="normal">"Perhaps I am not so devout as you are, Constance, and yet, in some -things more devout. There is another enigma for you; but I know a -convent would not suit me. You will say, I seemed happy enough in one; -but yet I have come to the belief that they are not truly holy or good -institutions. To take the vows I should have to take, were I to enter -one, to live according to all the rules and ordinances, to go through -all the ceremonies, and to make all the professions, I should be a -hypocrite, Constance. But to marry this Lord Fulmer, to vow that I -will love him when I love another, would make me worse than a -hypocrite."</p> - -<p class="normal">Constance gazed at her with a bewildered look; for, though her words -were not very plain, yet they created doubts.</p> - -<p class="normal">"I do not know what to think of your language, Iola," she answered. -"Holy men, fathers of the church, successors of the apostles, have -founded convents, and blessed them. Surely they cannot be evil -institutions with such a sanction."</p> - -<p class="normal">Iola laughed, seeming not inclined to grapple with the question; and -then, with a playful gesture of the hand, she asked abruptly--</p> - -<p class="normal">"Would you like now, now as you sit here, to devote yourself for life -to one of them?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"That is not a fair question," answered Constance, with a blush and a -smile; "but now, let us think, Iola, of what must be your conduct -between these two men. To one you are bound by a contract, valid it -seems in the eye of the law, and from which you cannot escape, -although it was entered into when you had no power to assent or to -refuse. To the other you are linked by ties of affection, which are -even less easily broken, I do believe."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Most mathematically put, dear cousin," answered Iola, in her old gay -tone; "but yet I can hardly reply. I must seek advice of some one who -knows more of the world's ways than either you or I do."</p> - -<p class="normal">"My aunt?" suggested Constance. "She will say, there is but one thing -to be done--to yield, and make the best of it."</p> - -<p class="normal">"No, no. Not to her will I apply," said Iola. "Of the world's ways, -dear Constance, of its laws and rules, she knows but little--hardly -more than we do. She can deal with foresters and bailiffs, sell timber -or wheat, collect the abbey dues, regulate its expenses, rule her nuns -wisely, though not strictly, and make devotion cheerful, without -depriving it of reverence; but there is a wide, wide circle beyond all -this, of which she knows nothing--nor I either, but that it exists."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Then to whom can you apply?" asked Constance; and Iola, rising, laid -her hands upon her cousin's, with a grave smile.</p> - -<p class="normal">"I will apply to one who will advise me well," she said; "but here, -dearest Constance, I must--however unwillingly--hold back a part of my -confidence from you. Were it my own alone, you should have it all, -fully and at once; but there is another, whose confidence I must not -break. Rest satisfied with this, that, as far as Chartley and I are -concerned, every secret of my heart, every act that I perform, -propose, or think of, shall be told to you at once. You shall see into -my breast, as if it were your own."</p> - -<p class="normal">"But yet there will be one dark spot," said Constance, almost -reproachfully.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Not concerning myself," answered Iola. "I tell you I am going to seek -advice. What that advice is, you shall know. Where I ask it, who gives -it, you must not know. This shall be the only reserve."</p> - -<p class="normal">"And you will not act in anything without speaking to me?" asked -Constance anxiously.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Certainly not," replied Iola; "but, you must promise in return, -Constance, that my confidence will never be violated, that no notions -which you may have imbibed of duty or propriety, or anything else on -earth--no, not of religion itself--shall make you ever betray to man -or woman that which I shall tell you."</p> - -<p class="normal">Constance seemed to hesitate; and Iola added, firmly, but sadly--</p> - -<p class="normal">"You must promise, Constance, or there can be no confidence. My heart -must hide itself from you, as from the rest of the world, unless I -know that its secrets are as safe with you as with myself. Will you -promise, without any reservation, remembering, that I shall look upon -no consideration of 'my own good,' as it is called, as an excuse for -your violating that engagement. I know you will keep your promise when -you have given it."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Assuredly I will," replied Constance; and, after a moment's thought, -she added; "and I will give the promise too, Iola. If I did not, you -could easily withhold your confidence from me; and I do think that it -will be better for you to have some one, of whose love you can have no -doubt, to consult with and rely on. Remember I do not know and cannot -divine who this secret adviser is, nor how he or she should have -followed you hither, to give you counsel on any sudden occasion. -Surely you would not rely upon your maid, in preference to your -cousin."</p> - -<p class="normal">Iola laughed gaily.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Nay, Heaven forbid," she cried, waving her hand. "Besides, what knows -she of the world? Poor Susan's utmost experience reaches but to know, -that Harry Smith, the abbey gardener's son, bought her pink ribbons at -Tamworth fair, and asked her to marry him at Shrovetide next. No, no, -dear Constance. All my confidence you shall have--that is to say, all -my own. I will only keep from you the confidence of others; and now -your promise is given, is it not--fully and without reservation?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"It is," answered Constance. "I know you have always hated that -doctrine of mental reservation, and called it unchristian and -uncandid. I do not like it, and will never act upon it, though very -good men say that it is sometimes needful."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Fie on them!" cried Iola, warmly. "Those who would teach that would -teach any other kind of falsehood. But now, my own dear cousin, now -for a petition. Will you help your Iola to seek this advice?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"How can I help you? What would you have me do?" asked Constance.</p> - -<p class="normal">"'Tis but to endure imprisonment for an hour," said Iola, "to stay here -and watch till I come back, and, if any one comes to the door, merely -to answer, 'You cannot come in!'"</p> - -<p class="normal">"That is easily accomplished," replied her cousin; "and I may as well -perform my devotions for the night here, as in my own chamber hard -by."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Quite as well," answered Iola, with a smile. "But now I must clear -the way;" and, opening the door into the ante-room, she said--"Here, -Susan. Have the guests left the hall?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Oh yes, lady," replied the rosy country girl, who appeared in answer -to her summons. "They did not sit long to-night. They have all gone to -their chambers some time."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Well then, I shall not want you for an hour," said Iola; and she -added, with a laugh--"I know there is some one whom you want to talk -with. But be discreet, Susan; and you shall have a present on my -marriage, to furnish house with."</p> - -<p class="normal">The girl blushed, and simpered, and retired.</p> - -<p class="normal">"And now," said Iola, "I must cover over these gay robes;" and, -opening one of those large cupboards, which, from the use that they -were sometimes applied to, retained, for many years, and still do in -some parts of Europe, the name of armoury, she drew forth a white -serge gown and hood, which she threw over her other apparel.</p> - -<p class="normal">"But where are you going?" demanded Constance, in a tone of alarm. -"Surely not beyond the castle walls. Your wanderings round the abbey -used to frighten me sometimes, when the broad daylight shone upon you; -but now you make me fear still more."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Fear not, and ask no questions," answered Iola. "I shall not be -without protection in case of need."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Oh, Iola, Iola, think well of what you are doing!" exclaimed her -cousin, detaining her by the hand.</p> - -<p class="normal">"I have thought," answered the lady. "See how the moon shines; and, -hark, there is my summons."</p> - -<p class="normal">Constance looked out and listened; and, faint upon her ear, the closed -casement dulling the sound, came the same strain of music which Fulmer -had heard from a different part of the castle. Gently disengaging her -hand, Iola glided into the ante-room, and opened the door leading into -the passage. She returned the moment after, however, saying--</p> - -<p class="normal">"There is some one moving. I must wait a little;" but, ere two minutes -more were over, she went out again, and closed the doors behind her.</p> - -<p class="normal">Constance remained where her cousin left her, listening with anxious -ears, for several moments, but Iola returned not; and, locking the -door, her cousin cast herself upon her knees, and prayed fervently.</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h3>CHAPTER XXVIII.</h3> -<br> - -<p class="normal">We must give a glance beyond the waters. "What waters?" The reader may -ask, "the waters of time?"</p> - -<p class="normal">No, alas, that we cannot do. Let the eager eye stretch as it will, -aided by whatever glass the ingenuity of man can devise, or his -presumption use, that wide horizon will never present any object -distinctly. A mirage may raise the images which lie beyond the scope -of natural vision; but, after all, it is a fading picture, where -everything is indistinct, uncertain, and confused.</p> - -<p class="normal">No, the waters that I speak of are those which flow between the white -cliffs of England and the shores of France; and I leap over no -particle of time; for the day and hour were the same as those of which -I have just been speaking; and it is to keep up the perfect -synchronism of my narrative that I am obliged to change the scene, and -travel all the way to France, carrying the unwilling reader with me.</p> - -<p class="normal">It was in a small room, lined with shadowy tapestry and ceiled with -black oak, carved in a strange and peculiar fashion--in the form of -pentagons, piled one upon the other, and each centred with a little -gilded star--that there was seated, towards the first hour of the -morning, an elderly man of dignified though quiet aspect, habited in -the robes of a bishop. Near the door stood two ecclesiastics, -with a boy of some fourteen years of age between them, apparently -equipped for a journey.</p> - -<p class="normal">"And you are sure you know every step of the way, my son?" said the -bishop, fixing his eyes upon the boy, and speaking in French.</p> - -<p class="normal">"As well as I know the steps to my mother's door, my lord," answered -the boy.</p> - -<p class="normal">The bishop mused, and motioned one of the ecclesiastics to come -nearer. The good man approached, and bent down his head, till his ear -was on a level with the prelate's lips; and then, in reply to a -whispered question, which the other seemed to ask him, he exclaimed--</p> - -<p class="normal">"Oh, I will be his surety, my lord; for he ran between the armies, in -the times of the late troubles with Britanny, and never betrayed his -trust in a single instance."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Well then, take him away for the present," said the bishop; "and I -will write the letter at once; for there is no time to be lost, -Entreat him kindly, and feed him well before he goes. I will call when -I want him."</p> - -<p class="normal">The two priests and the boy retired; and, when left alone, the bishop -took some little time for thought.</p> - -<p class="normal">"So far all is safe," he said to himself. "Once more I am upon these -hospitable shores of France; and my escape is well nigh a miracle. I -trust no evil has befallen those who were, under God, my kind -preservers. That dear child, I trust she got safely back to the arms -of her good aunt, the abbess. 'Tis very strange, how often, by the -merest seeming accidents, a kindness shown to a fellow creature -returns to bless us after many years. Nor has man's gratitude any -great share in it; for how rarely do we find anything like gratitude, -especially amongst the high and noble. Often too, those whom we have -served have gone away from earth, and cannot show gratitude, if they -would; yet still the good deed rises up, in after years, to shelter -us, as a tree against a storm. Little did I think, when I entreated -for St. Leger's life, and not only won it against all odds, but -obtained that his estates should be not confiscated to the crown, but -transferred for life to his brother, with a provision reserved for -himself--little did I think that his sister would shelter me at the -peril of all worldly good, and his daughter would guide me to escape -in safety."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Now for another act," he continued, drawing a sheet of paper towards -him. "I pray God this may be for the benefit of my country. Gratitude, -in this instance, I want not, expect not, and shall not obtain. It is -not in his nature--well, if he turn not and rend me! It matters not; -it is right and shall be done. Better a cold and greedy prince upon -the throne, than a murdering usurper. This man must labour for a -people's good, for his own interest's sake; and then a marriage with -the heiress of York will cure all divisions, and heal the wounds of my -bleeding country."</p> - -<p class="normal">He still seemed to hesitate, however; for although he had drawn a -sheet of paper to him, and taken pen in hand, he did not write for -several minutes.</p> - -<p class="normal">"It must be done," he said at length; and, when he began, his letter -was soon finished.</p> - -<p class="normal">"There," he said, when it was completed. "Now he can act as he sees -meet. If he be wise, and occasion serves, he will say no word to this -weak duke of Britanny, even should he be in one of his lucid moments, -but will fly at once to France, where, thanks to my efforts, all is -prepared to give him friendly reception. If revenge get the -mastery--and he has no small share of it in his nature--he will -endeavour to strike at Peter Landais, and be given bound into the -hands of Richard. Then farewell to England. Stay, I will add a few -words more of caution and advice; for I must needs enclose the -despatch obtained by my good friend, the woodman, to let him see the -extent and nature of his danger."</p> - -<p class="normal">The postscript to his letter was soon written, the paper, which the -woodman had given him, enclosed, the letter tied with the silk, and -sealed; and the boy was then recalled and charged with the packet. -Manifold were the directions given him, as to how he was to conceal -the dangerous despatch; and the youth, who seemed quick and active, -retired furnished with a packet of ordinary letters, addressed to the -Marquis Dorset, and several other English noblemen then living in -exile at the court of Britanny.</p> - -<p class="normal">His weight was light, the horse prepared for him strong and active; -and, mounting in the court-yard, he set out upon his way, passing -through the heart of Normandy in perfect security. Séez, Alençon were -reached; and, shortly after, the peril of the enterprise began; but he -knew all the roads well, and, after sleeping at a small village on the -confines of Normandy, he rose some hours before daylight, and made his -way through narrow lanes into the duchy of Britanny, under cover of -the darkness.</p> - -<p class="normal">It is rare that a journey is performed with so little difficulty, even -when there are much fewer dangers; but the messenger met with no -impediment till he reached the town of Rennes, where his horse was -detained for several hours, on the pretence that so fine an animal -could not fairly belong to a youth of his appearance. But the letters -he produced, addressed to the Marquis Dorset, accounted for his -possession of the animal; and, though there was not wanting -inclination on the part of Landais' officers to seize it, for their -own or their master's use, they did not venture to do so; for it was a -part of the treacherous minister's policy to lull the English exiles -into security by seeming kindness, till he could deliver them into the -hands of Richard.</p> - -<p class="normal">The letters, however, were strictly examined, and, when returned to -the boy, had evidently been opened; but the secret despatches, -concealed in the large wooden boot which he wore, passed undiscovered. -The contents of the letters, which had been read, only served to -convince Landais that his meditated treachery was unknown to the -friends of the exiles in England.</p> - -<p class="normal">Hastening on with all speed from Rennes to Vannes, the boy nearly -accomplished the distance of more than twenty leagues in one day; but -he arrived at night, and was forced to remain till morning at a small -inn in the suburb, on the right bank of the river Marle. He there -gathered intelligence, however, of some importance. A strong body of -archers, he learned, had entered Vannes the day before, and the earl -of Richmond, with many of his chief friends and followers, had sought -hospitality at the fine old abbey of St. Gildas, situated on a little -peninsula in the neighbourhood. Thither then, on the following -morning, he took his way; but he did not arrive in the court of the -abbey till the earl and his companions were just mounting their horses -to set out upon some early expedition. The boy's shrewd eyes instantly -detected, amongst those present, several who were not Englishmen; and, -with the keen good sense for which he had been selected for that -mission, he determined at once upon his course. The earl of Richmond -he had never seen; but, perceiving that to one particular person there -present, a spare but somewhat forbidding-looking man, all the others -paid much reverence, he walked up to him with a letter in his hand, -and asked if he were the Marquis Dorset.</p> - -<p class="normal">"No," answered Richmond, who had his foot in the stirrup, to mount. -"Yonder he stands. Is that letter for him?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Yes, my lord," replied the boy; "but I have several others from -England."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Have you any for me, the earl of Richmond?" asked the other; and, -dropping his voice to a low tone, the boy replied:</p> - -<p class="normal">"I have a word for the earl of Richmond's private ear."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Deliver your letters, and then come back to me," said Richmond, in -the same low tone; and then he added, aloud, "Here is a little courier -from England, my lords and gentlemen, with letters from home, for most -of you, but none for me. Take them and read them. We can well afford -to put off our ride for half an hour. In the mean time, I will -question the boy as to the news of our native land--Here, Bernard, -hold my horse. Boy, give them their letters, and then come with me."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Why, this has been opened," cried the marquis of Dorset, looking at -the epistle which he received from the boy's hands.</p> - -<p class="normal">"I know it has, noble sir," answered the boy aloud. "All my letters -were taken from me at Rennes, and, when they were returned, I could -see they had been read."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Out, young cur," cried one of the Landais' officers, who was present. -"Say you the people of the duke of Britanny would open your letters? -Doubtless you opened them yourself."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Not so, noble sir," answered the lad; "for, alas, I cannot read."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Well, well, come with me," said Richmond, seeing that the nobles -crowding round him had taken the packet, which the boy had held in his -hand, and were distributing them amongst themselves, according to the -superscription. "This way, lad--permit the boy to pass, reverend -father;" and entering the abbey by a small door, at which appeared an -old monk, he walked onward, followed closely by the boy, till he -reached his bed-chamber.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Now, what have you to say to me?" he exclaimed eagerly.</p> - -<p class="normal">But the boy, before he answered, closed the door behind him, and -pushed the bolt.</p> - -<p class="normal">"I have a packet for you, noble lord," replied the boy; "but I was -ordered to deliver it to your own hand in private, and I have kept it -concealed from all eyes, here in my boot."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Then the people at Rennes did not find it?" asked Richmond, sharply.</p> - -<p class="normal">"No one has ever seen it, from the moment I received it," answered the -boy. "That I will swear to; for I have slept in my boots; and, when I -took them off for ease, I kept them always in my sight."</p> - -<p class="normal">The boots of an unarmed courier or post of that day were of a kind, I -believe, now utterly banished from use, but which might still be seen -in France, amongst postilions, at the end of the last war. They -consisted of an inner covering of leather, with large and -rudely-shaped pieces of light wood, fastened round them with straps of -leather, to guard the leg against any blow or accident. Out of these -cumbrous appendages, the boy had withdrawn his feet while he was -speaking; and now, unbuckling the wooden cases from the leather, he -opened a little sliding lid in one of the former, and drew forth the -packet which Morton had entrusted to him. Richmond took it eagerly; -but, with his usual cool observing spirit, before he opened it, he -looked carefully at the silk and the seal, to ascertain that it had -not been examined previously. Satisfied on that point, he cut the -fastening, broke the seal, and read the contents. His countenance, -though the boy's eye fixed upon it while he read, gave no indication -of what was passing in his mind. It was cold, quiet, resolute. When he -had done, he thought in silence for a moment or two; and then looking -at the lad, he said--</p> - -<p class="normal">"Thou hast performed thy task well. There is gold for thee. Were I -richer it should be more. Now tell me how it came that they chose one -so young to carry tidings of some import?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Because I knew every inch of the country well," replied the boy; -"because I had carried many letters between the armies in the time of -the war, and because my mother, and father Julien, said that I was -honest."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Good reasons," said Richmond; "knowledge, experience, honesty. I -think you deserved your character. Do you know the country between -this and Tours well?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Every part of it," replied the boy.</p> - -<p class="normal">"And between this and Angers?" asked Richmond again.</p> - -<p class="normal">"As well as the other," answered the boy.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Well, then," said Richmond, "open the door and call one of my valets. -I retain you in my service, if you are free."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Oh yes, my lord, I am free and willing," replied the boy; for there -was that in the manner of the future king of England which, though dry -and cold, and somewhat stern, inspired respect; and the boy's -character was peculiar too. The man who knows how to command will -always find those who are willing to obey; and the attachments -inspired by the strong-minded and the stern are often more rapid, -generally more permanent, than the affection excited by the weak and -gentle.</p> - -<p class="normal">The boy's nature was brief and laconic; and, as soon as he had made -his answer, he went out into the passage, and sought one of the -attendants of the earl, with whom he returned to his presence.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Take care of that boy," said Richmond, to the man, "and bring him to -me as soon as I return. Treat him well, and let him have whatever he -wants; for he has rendered me service."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Thus saying, he walked out into the court again, assuming a moody and -somewhat discontented air. The reading of his letters and his -conversation with the boy had not occupied five minutes; and some of -the English gentlemen were still studying the epistles they had -received in the court."</p> - -<p class="normal">"You have been very brief, my lord," said the Marquis Dorset, -thrusting his letter into his pocket. "What news did the boy give you? -I have little or none."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I have none at all," answered Richmond. "The boy only came from -Rouen, I find. The English messenger stopped there. So I must wait for -another long tedious fortnight before I get intelligence. I am glad to -hear from Rennes, however, my Lord of Morlaix," he added, addressing -one of the Breton gentlemen, who had been placed with him more as a -guard than an attendant, "that your noble duke is perfectly recovered, -and gone towards Maine for better air, to give him strength again."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Indeed, my lord. I had not heard it," answered the gentleman he -addressed.</p> - -<p class="normal">"It is true, notwithstanding," answered Richmond. "Come, gentlemen, -let us mount;" and, springing on his horse, he rode forth, followed by -his whole train.</p> - -<p class="normal">As he went, he continued to talk of the duke of Britanny's recovery, -in a public and open manner, addressing some of his observations to -the Bretons who accompanied him.</p> - -<p class="normal">"I fear," he said at length, "that his highness may think me somewhat -remiss if I do not go to compliment him on his recovery."</p> - -<p class="normal">He remarked a slight frown come upon the face of Morlaix, as he spoke; -and that gentleman ventured to say--</p> - -<p class="normal">"Perhaps, my lord the earl, it might be better to send a messenger -first, giving some intimation of your purpose; for his highness, if -you recollect--"</p> - -<p class="normal">"I know what you would say," replied Richmond, as he paused and -hesitated. "His highness assigned me my residence at Vannes; and I am -well aware that observance of a prince's wishes is of more importance -than any mere point of ceremony. You, Dorset, are in the same case; -but, in this instance, happily we can do both; remain at the spot -assigned us, and yet show our gladness at our princely friend's -recovery. We will send every man, not tied down to this spot as we -are, to offer our sincere congratulations, and to show that we do not -come ourselves solely front respect for his commands."</p> - -<p class="normal">"That, my lord, is indeed obviating all difficulties," said Morlaix, -with a smile; "and doubtless," he added hypocritically, "you will soon -receive an invitation to the court, to receive the honours due to your -station."</p> - -<p class="normal">Richmond's face expressed no satisfaction at this answer; and, turning -to the rest of the English exiles, he merely said--</p> - -<p class="normal">"Well, gentlemen, we will not ride far or fast to-day, as you will -need your horses for a longer journey to-morrow. I will write a letter -of compliment to his highness, which you shall deliver for me, and -explain that I only regret I could not be my own messenger. Monsieur -de Morlaix, if you will do me the honour of breaking your fast with -me, at an early hour to-morrow, we will see these gentlemen depart."</p> - -<p class="normal">The other bowed with all due reverence, and, with much satisfaction, -seeing that the arrest of the earl of Richmond, and his delivery into -the hands of Richard's emissaries, which he knew was meditated by -Landais, would be much more easily effected, during the absence of so -large a body of the earl's friends and followers, than it could be -while they so closely surrounded his person. It was necessary however -for the Breton to obtain distinct directions as to how he should act; -and, as soon as he returned to the abbey of St. Gildas, he despatched -letters to Landais, informing him of the proposed movements of -Richmond's friends, and requiring orders for his guidance.</p> - -<p class="normal">While he was thus occupied, the young messenger from the bishop of Ely -was again brought into the earl's presence, and the door closed and -bolted. Richmond eyed him for a moment attentively, and then said--</p> - -<p class="normal">"What do you know, lad, of the contents of the packet you brought me?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Nothing, my lord," replied the boy.</p> - -<p class="normal">"What do you guess?" demanded Richmond, who seemed to comprehend and -be comprehended at once.</p> - -<p class="normal">"That your lordship is in peril from something," replied the other.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Why do you guess that?" asked Richmond.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Because I was told to be secret and swift," answered the boy, "to -destroy the packet if there was danger of its being taken, and to find -means of telling you, if I should be prevented from delivering it, to -be upon your guard against enemies. Moreover, I heard last night that -three hundred archers had marched into Vannes in the morning."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Ha!" said the earl. "I heard not of that. They are rapid, it would -seem. Now, young man, are you willing to serve me well?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Right willing," replied the boy.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Can you guide me, by the shortest and most secret ways, hence to the -town of Angers?" demanded Richmond.</p> - -<p class="normal">"None better," said the boy.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Well then, you shall do it," said Richmond; "but be silent and -secret. Utter no word of what I say to you, even to those who seem my -dearest friends. I have an expedition to make to Angers, to take -counsel with persons much in my interest there; but none must know of -my going. That is all. Stay, a word or two more," he continued, -thoughtfully. "It were as well that none should remark your staying -here, or know that we hold private conference together. It may seem as -if the news you brought from Rouen was of sufficient import to justify -suspicion. I will send you into Vannes. Stay there at the suburb at -the Golden Dolphin, and mind you chatter not."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I chatter little, my lord," said the boy.</p> - -<p class="normal">"I trust so and believe it, my good lad," replied Richmond; "but it -sometimes happens that youths like you, when speaking to persons of -superior station, are silent and discreet enough, and yet find a noisy -and loquacious tongue when with their fellows. But I will not doubt -you. You must have been proved, ere Morton trusted you. Only remember, -that if you are not now discreet, you may lose a good master, who will -make your fortune should you prove worthy."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I will not lose him," said the boy.</p> - -<p class="normal">"To-morrow night I will speak with you more," said Richmond; "do you -know a place near Vannes called Carnac?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"What, where the great stones lie?" asked the lad. "Many a time I have -played amongst those stones, when I was eight years old."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Then meet me there with your horse, just at the hour of sunset, -to-morrow evening," the earl replied. "Set off upon the road to -Rennes. Turn round by the great fish-ponds, and wait between the first -and second line of stones till I arrive--though I may tarry a little, -still wait."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I will, my lord," replied the boy, and left the earl's presence.</p> - -<p class="normal">He kept his word to the letter; for, though he laughed, and jested, -and talked with the people of the little cabaret where he put up, the -name of the earl of Richmond never escaped his lips. He talked of the -long journey he had had, and of how tired his horse was, and -complained a little that the Marquis Dorset had not paid him for his -services.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Doubtless you are well paid before," said the landlord of the inn, to -whom he spoke. "You seem a sharp boy, and not one to go without -payment."</p> - -<p class="normal">The lad laughed, and said nothing, confirming the man's suspicions, -that he had desired somewhat more than his due. Upon the pretence of -his horse needing repose, he continued to linger where he was during -the whole of that day and great part of the next, always talking of -going back to Rouen, till, at length, when evening approached, he paid -his score and departed. The landlord remarked, as he went away, "Ay, -there goes a young truant, who will be scolded roundly, I will -warrant, for lingering so long, and yet will not want an excuse for -his tardiness."</p> - -<p class="normal">Slowly jogging on his way, the boy rode even somewhat farther than -Richmond had directed him. But, to say the truth, he knew the country -better than the earl himself; and he knew also the habits of the -place, which brought to the point at which Richmond had told him to -turn off, a considerable number of the country people, going into -Vannes, at that hour, to hear the evening service, at the church of -St. Paterne. Passing completely round the large tank or fish-pond -there, he approached the great Druidical temple of Carnac--the most -remarkable, perhaps, in the world--just as the sun was setting; and, -dismounting from his horse, he stood and gazed forth at the bright -sky, with interest very different from that which he might have felt -had he known where he stood. The boy was ignorant indeed of all the -historical associations connected with the place. He had never heard -of Druids, or Celts, nor of any other religion but the Roman Catholic; -but yet there was a curious sort of solemn grandeur in that scene, -with the thousands and thousands of tall stones, most of them then -standing upright in their five curious ranges, with the rosy coloured -light of the evening sky pouring in amongst them, which produced a -sensation almost akin to awe in his young though not very imaginative -heart.</p> - -<p class="normal">"This is a strange place," he thought. "I wonder what it means? These -stones must have been put here by somebody. Perhaps they intended to -build a church here long long ago. But why should they spread them out -so far and set them all on end. It can't have been for a church -either. But they are all dead and gone, that's clear, and the stones -remain;" and his mind being then led on from point to point, by some -process within himself, he said, "I wonder what will become of me. It -is very droll, one can never tell what is to happen to oneself -afterwards. That earl said he would make my fortune. What will that -fortune be, I wonder?"</p> - -<p class="normal">The sun gradually sank, and all was darkness; but shortly after a pale -gleam, coming upon some clouds to the eastward, showed that some other -light was coming; and the moon soared up in time, and shed her light -over the same scene. The boy looked round him somewhat timidly. He -began almost to fancy that ghosts of the dead might haunt those solemn -places. All remained still and quiet, however, till at length he heard -the sound of horses' feet, and ventured to look out. The riders were -not near enough for him to see anything, however; for the night was so -still that he heard them afar. At length they came nearer and nearer; -and, taking his stand at his horse's side, he gazed along the line of -stones till four horsemen rode in and approached him.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Mount and come on," said the voice of Richmond; and the boy sprang -into the saddle at once. The earl had not stopped to speak the words, -and, ere the lad was mounted, he had ridden on some hundred yards, as -it seems in a wrong direction, for he speedily heard a low voice, -saying, "To the right, my lord. It is safer and shorter."</p> - -<p class="normal">"But this is the road to La Roche Bernard," replied Richmond, turning, -and eyeing him by the moonlight.</p> - -<p class="normal">"But you must not go by La Roche," replied the lad, "but by Redon and -Nozay. We will cross the Villaine near Redon. Then there is nothing to -stop you till you get to Nozay, neither towns nor castles, but sandy -tracks through the bushes. There is the castle of Furette, indeed; but -it was burnt in the last war, and there is no one in it."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Play me not false," said Richmond, in a threatening tone, but turning -his rein at the same time in the direction the boy pointed out. "Ride -here," he continued, "between me and this good lord. Now tell me, how -far is it to Angers by this road?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Some twenty-six leagues, my lord," replied the lad, "and by the other -more than thirty."</p> - -<p class="normal">"You are right there," said the Marquis Dorset.</p> - -<p class="normal">"And what will one find on the other side of Nozay?" asked the earl.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Nothing to stop you, sir," said the boy; "between it and Angers there -is the little village of Conde, where you can bait your horses; and -there is a good road thence to Angers, with nothing but hamlets or -scattered farm-houses, till you reach the town. No one would be able -to take you from Redon to Nozay but myself--at least, nobody at -Vannes; but from Nozay to Angers you could go by yourself if you -liked."</p> - -<p class="normal">"You seem to know it well," said Richmond.</p> - -<p class="normal">"I was born at Nozay," replied the boy.</p> - -<p class="normal">There the conversation stopped; and they rode on in silence for some -time, going at a very quick pace, till at length the Earl said,</p> - -<p class="normal">"We must spare our horses a little, or they will hardly bear us out. -Twenty-six leagues; think you we can do it in one day, boy?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Oh, yes, my lord," replied the boy, "if your beasts be strong and -willing. The night is fresh, and the ground soft; and we can afford to -stop and feed the horses at Nozay, for, if any one comes after us, a -thousand to one they will take the other road."</p> - -<p class="normal">"That is one recommendation to yours at all events," said Dorset, -laughing; "and the ground is soft enough indeed, for it seems to me as -if we were entering a morass."</p> - -<p class="normal">"So we are," answered the boy, coolly. "We had better ride one by one. -Then if I make a mistake, I shall be the first to pay for it."</p> - -<p class="normal">Thus saying, he rode on boldly and rapidly, till, at the end of about -half a league, the swampy ground ceased, and the country began to rise -a little. Ascending by gradual slopes the road which they now -followed, and which was clearly enough defined by its sandy colour, -gained a considerable elevation above the sea; and Richmond was just -in the act of observing that they must have got at least eight miles -from Vannes, when they heard the distant report of a cannon boom upon -the air, and Dorset exclaimed:</p> - -<p class="normal">"What may that mean?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"That they have found out you are gone," said the boy, laughing.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Did it seem to come from Vannes?" demanded Richmond.</p> - -<p class="normal">"To a certainty," answered the boy. "The wind sets this way; but it is -our own fault if they catch us now."</p> - -<p class="normal">No other indication of pursuit reached their ears as they pursued -their way, till at length the boy, pointing forward with his hand, -said:</p> - -<p class="normal">"There is Redon. You can either go through the town or by the ford. -The ford is shortest."</p> - -<p class="normal">"And safest too, in all probability," replied Richmond.</p> - -<p class="normal">"I think they could hear that gun," said the boy, "if they could but -make out what it meant."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Then take the ford, by all means," said Richmond; and, pursuing a -narrow path to the left, which ran some way up the river, the lad led -them to the bank of the stream, and passed safely through, though the -water rose to the horse's girths. The rest followed; and, turning over -the shoulder of the hill, at the end of a few miles, they entered a -wild and desolate track, where woods and bushes seemed scattered over -a wide extent of shifting sand, amidst which all vestige of a road -seemed lost. Straight on went the boy, however, without pause or -hesitation, appearing to be guided, in finding his way back to his -native place, by the same sort of instinct which is possessed by dogs -and some kinds of pigeons.</p> - -<p class="normal">All seemed so dark--for the moon had by this time gone down--so wild, -so trackless, that Richmond at length exclaimed, with anxious -sternness:</p> - -<p class="normal">"Are you sure you are right, boy?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Quite sure," replied the boy; and on he went, leading the way through -one wide patch of bushes, round the angle of a little wood, down a -little dell, across a rivulet, up a slope, into another track wilder -than before, as if not a tree had been cut down or a bush grubbed up -since last he was there.</p> - -<p class="normal">"There comes morning," he said at length. "We shall reach Nosey just -at break of day."</p> - -<p class="normal">"And right glad will my horse be to get there," said Dorset; "for he -is well nigh knocked up. He has been stumbling at every step for the -last hour."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Food will set him up," said the boy, "and that he can soon have. -There is Bohalard and its windmill, to the right, peeping through the -dusk, like a great giant with his arms stretched out to catch us."</p> - -<p class="normal">The sight of the windmill, and the boy's instant recognition of it, -relieved Richmond a good deal; for he had not been able to divest his -mind of some doubts as to his young guide's accuracy; for the country -had been so wild and trackless, that it seemed impossible to him for -any one accurately to remember every step of the way, and one mistake -must have been irretrievable in the darkness. A few minutes more set -him at rest completely; for as the air grew lighter every moment, he -perceived at no great distance in advance a tower upon an elevated -spot, and a little beyond that again, but lower down, the spire of a -church.</p> - -<p class="normal">"What is that tower, boy?" he asked, as they rode on.</p> - -<p class="normal">"It is called Beauvais, my lord," replied the lad; "and that is the -church of Nozay."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Then let us slacken our pace a little," said Richmond, and, according -to the boy's prediction, they rode into the small town just as the sun -was rising.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Here, stop here," said the boy, drawing in his horse's rein before a -house, which seemed somewhat like an inn of the second or third class; -"this is not the best cabaret, but the landlord is the honestest man;" -and, by thundering with his fists at the large gate, he soon brought -forth some of the inmates from their beds.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Ah, petit!" cried the landlord, who was amongst the first; "is that -you again, Pierre la Brousse? and so you have brought me some guests."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Who must have food for themselves and horses, in a minute, father," -replied the boy, "for they want to be in Angers before mass."</p> - -<p class="normal">"They'll hardly manage that," said the landlord, looking at the -horses; "however we must do what we can. Come in, come in. Jacques -tend the horses. Come, in, Pierre."</p> - -<p class="normal">"No, I must up to the top of the church," said the boy, "to see who -comes after; for Maître Landais is no friend of mine, and, if his -people catch me, I shall taste hemp. So keep my horse saddled while he -feeds. The gentlemen can do as they like, for they can find their way -now; but I'll be away as soon as I see any one coming over the -<i>landes</i>."</p> - -<p class="normal">This was said aloud, and Richmond answered--</p> - -<p class="normal">"No, no. We will go with thee, lad."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Stay, stay; my son shall go up the steeple," cried the landlord; "he -is quick enough in all conscience, and his eyes are good. You stay and -feed, Pierre."</p> - -<p class="normal">Such was then the arrangement. The son of the landlord was sent up to -the top of the church to watch, while the whole party of travellers -halted at the little inn, to rest, feed their horses, and partake of -what coarse refreshment the place afforded. The horse of the Marquis -of Dorset, however, would not feed; but, by the mediation of Pierre la -Brousse, that nobleman procured another very fair animal to carry him -on, and the furniture of that which he had been riding was transferred -to the back of the fresh steed. The other four horses took their -provender willingly enough; and, having seen this most necessary point -settled, Richmond and his companions entered the house, and soon had -some eggs, meat, and wine set before them. They had time to make a -tolerable meal, but no more; for, just as they had finished, the -landlord's son came running in to say, that he saw a party of horsemen -coming over the <i>landes</i>, at the distance of about three miles.</p> - -<p class="normal">"How many are they?" demanded Richmond, in a calm tone.</p> - -<p class="normal">"A good number, sir," replied the young man, "but I did not stay to -count them."</p> - -<p class="normal">"How can they have tracked us?" cried the boy.</p> - -<p class="normal">"They had something running before them which looked like a dog," said -the landlord's son. "It was too far to see exactly what it was; but it -might be a blood-hound."</p> - -<p class="normal">"My dog for an hundred angels!" said Richmond, in a low tone; "we must -to horse at once. Were they coming quick?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"No, slow enough," answered the young man, following the strangers to -the court-yard.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Thank Heaven, their horses must be as tired as ours," said Dorset; -and, paying the reckoning, the party of fugitives mounted in haste to -depart.</p> - -<p class="normal">"There is a gold crown for thee, young man," said Richmond to the -landlord's son, before they set out; "and if thou and thy father can -contrive to delay those who come after for one hour, I promise, on the -word of an English nobleman, you shall have ten such sent to you by -some means. If I reach Angers in safety, you may come and claim the -reward. Now, on gentlemen, as fast as whip and spur will carry us."</p> - -<p class="normal">On they went then; and, for fully twenty miles more, their horses bore -them up well; but evident symptoms of failing strength began to -manifest themselves about nine o'clock, and before ten it became -clearly necessary to seek some fresh beasts. The houses were now, -however, beginning to appear more frequently; the boy Pierre knew -every place where a horse was likely to be obtained; and the four -which were wanted were at last procured, some being found at one -place, and some at another. It was none too soon, however; for while -yet at the distance of some three miles from Angers, a large -stag-hound with a silver collar bounded up to the side of the earl of -Richmond, and almost sprang upon his horse.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Ah, my poor Taker," said Richmond. "Thou hast unwittingly betrayed -me, I fear.--Look back, look back," he added to his followers; "they -must be near at hand now."</p> - -<p class="normal">Nothing was to be seen, however; for the dog had outrun the pursuers; -and, for a mile farther, they did not come in sight. Then, however, -they were seen coming over a hill not very far off; and, from that -spot, the journey became in fact a race. Those who followed had -evidently hired fresh horses likewise; or rather, armed with the -authority at the duke of Britanny, they had taken them wherever they -found them; and they gained perceptibly upon the fugitives. Now they -were lost sight of in a hollow, as the road rose up and down; now they -came in sight again, and each time nearer than before. At length, -however, a glimpse of the winding Mayenne was obtained, and then -towers and steeples were seen over the trees.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Angers, Angers!" cried the boy, with renewed hope.</p> - -<p class="normal">On they dashed; and, when they reached the gates of the city, the -horsemen of the duke of Britanny were not three hundred yards behind -them.</p> - -<p class="normal">There, however, both parties reined in their horses; and Richmond -presented his letters of safe conduct to the guard at the gates. The -pursuers did not venture to follow any farther, for they were already -within the pale of France; and, wearied in frame, but relieved in -mind, the earl rode on into the town.</p> - -<p class="normal">As, now in security, Richmond cast off his clothes at the inn, and -prepared to take some repose, his mind rested upon the events of the -eight and forty hours just past; and his last thought, ere his eyes -closed in sleep, was--"It is strange that I should owe my escape from -imprisonment--ay, and from death, to a woodman in a distant part of -England." He might have said, "and that England should owe him a -king;" but all the coming time was dim to the eyes of the earl; and he -only added--"I vow to the blessed Virgin Mary, if ever I should sit -upon the throne of England, as some men think likely, I will find out -that man and reward him."</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h3>CHAPTER XXIX.</h3> -<br> - -<p class="normal">There was a hand laid upon the latch of the door; for doors, even in -great houses, had latches to them, dear reader, in that age of simple -contrivances; and Constance asked, "Who is there?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Open, Constance, open," said the voice of Iola; and her cousin gave -her instant admission, holding out her arms to her, and pressing her -to her heart, as if she had thought that the companion of her youth -was lost to her for ever.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Have you been disturbed, Constance?" asked her cousin, kissing her -cheek.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Only by your girl, Susan, about a quarter of an hour ago," replied -Constance. "I bade her come again in half an hour, and tell my maiden -not to sit up for me."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I have been long, dear cousin," said Iola, "and kept you waiting; but -I could not help it; for there was much to say."</p> - -<p class="normal">"And you have been far," said Constance, gazing at her with inquiring -looks; "for your gown is wet with dew--and torn moreover!"</p> - -<p class="normal">"And my feet too with the brambles," answered Iola, sitting down, and -uncovering her fair delicate feet and ancles. "My path has been almost -as rough and thorny as that of the world, Constance. See how they have -scratched me."</p> - -<p class="normal">"But what did he say? What advice have you obtained?" demanded -Constance, looking with no very serious commiseration at the scratches -which streaked the pure white skin of her cousin.</p> - -<p class="normal">"You don't pity me," said Iola, laughing. "You are a cruel girl."</p> - -<p class="normal">"If the wounds of the world are not more serious than these, you will -not deserve much pity," answered Constance. "I am anxious about graver -things, Iola; but you are so light."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Well, well, I will tell you," answered Iola. "Let me but put on these -slippers, and get a little breath; for my heart has been beating -somewhat more than needful. What counsel has he given, do you ask? How -do you know that it was a man at all?--Well, I will own. It was a man, -but an old one, Constance; and now I will tell you what he said. He -said that a marriage contracted between infants was not lawful. That -it was a corrupt custom which could not be justified, for that a -reasonable consent was needful to make a marriage valid, consequently, -that I am not bound at all by acts to which I gave no consent--the -acts of others, not my own. He says moreover that religion itself -forbids me to promise what I cannot perform."</p> - -<p class="normal">Constance gazed at her with wonder and surprise. The view thus -suddenly presented to her was so strange, so new, so contrary to the -received notions and opinions of the time, that, at first, all seemed -mist and darkness to her.</p> - -<p class="normal">"This is extraordinary indeed!" she exclaimed. "This is extraordinary -indeed! Who can it be, Iola, who thus ventures to set at defiance not -merely the opinions of the world at large, but that of lawyers and -fathers of the church, who have always held such contracts binding?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"He says that it is not so," answered Iola. "He gave me many instances -in which such contracts, especially between princes and high nobles, -have been set at nought, where the church has treated them as things -of no value, and lawyers have passed them over with little reverence. -But I could tell you more extraordinary things than this, Constance. -Men are beginning in this world to look with keen and searching eyes -into these received opinions which you talk of, and to ask if they are -founded on justice and right, or on ignorance, superstition, and -craft. Light is streaming in upon darkness; and there is a day rising, -of which I see the dawn, though I may never see the noon."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I can understand nothing of all this," said Constance. "Dearest Iola, -I think your wits must have been shaken by all you have undergone. You -speak so wildly and so strangely."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Nay, nay," said Iola. "I am as calm as you are; and these ideas which -I give you, under the promise you have made, never to reveal one word -that I tell you, I have long held and shall ever continue to hold."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I have never had any hint of them before. I have never seen any sign -of them," replied Constance; "and yet we have been like sisters from -our infancy."</p> - -<p class="normal">"During the last year, Constance," asked Iola, in a grave and solemn -tone, "have you ever seen me kneel down to worship picture of saint, -or of virgin, relic, statue, or crucifix?"</p> - -<p class="normal">Constance put her hand upon her forehead, and gazed at her cousin with -a look of bewildered dismay. "I do not know that I have," she said, -after a moment's thought; "but I have seen you tell your beads. I have -known you confess and receive absolution."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I have told my beads, Constance," said her cousin; "and at every bead -I have said a prayer; but it has been to God the Father, through -Christ the Saviour, and I have ever prayed for direction in the right. -I have confessed, because there can be no harm in confessing my sins -to the ear of a priest as well as to the ear of God; and, if he has -pretended to absolve me from sins which God alone can absolve, it is -his fault and not mine. I have thought myself little benefitted -thereby."</p> - -<p class="normal">Constance started up, exclaiming, "I will go and pray for you, Iola. I -will go and pray for you!"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Stay yet a while, dear cousin; and then gladly will I ask your -prayers," said Iola; "but let them, dear Constance, be addressed to -God alone, and not to saints or martyrs. You will ask why. I will show -you in a moment. God has himself forbidden it. Look here;" and she -drew a small closely written book from her bosom. "This, Constance, is -the word of God," she continued, "the book from which priests, and -bishops, and popes, pretend to derive their religion. Look what are -its injunctions here."</p> - -<p class="normal">Timidly and stealthily, as if she were committing an act of very -doubtful propriety, Constance looked over her cousin's shoulder to the -page which Iola held open in the book, and read on with eager and -attentive eyes.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Does it say so?" she asked at length. "Does it say so? What can this -mean, Iola? Why should they so deceive us?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"That I cannot tell," answered Iola; "for no good purpose, doubtless; -but that matters little. It is sufficient for me to know that they do -deceive us; and, in a matter that concerns my soul's salvation, I will -not be deceived. We spoke just before I went, Constance, of mental -reservation. You own--you know, that it is neither more nor less than -deceit. It is promising without performing, clothing a lie in the garb -of truth. What does not follow from such duplicity! Will not they who -cheat us, and make a profession of cheating, in one thing, cheat us in -many?--Will they not cheat us in all? Often have I thought, before I -saw this book, that it was strange man should have the power to -forgive sins. We are told that our sins are against God and against -man. If against man, the only one who has power to forgive them is the -man whom we have offended; if against God, then God only has the -power. But all sins are against God, for they are all a violation of -his law, and therefore he only can remit them perfectly."</p> - -<p class="normal">"But he may depute the power to his priests," said Constance.</p> - -<p class="normal">"What, the Almighty, all-seeing God, depute his power to blind -impotent mortals!" exclaimed Iola. "What, depute his power of -pardoning me to a drunken, luxurious, sinful priest! You may say that -such a man has not the power, and that absolution from him is of no -avail. But if you do, dear cousin, you are a heretic; for we are told -that it is of avail. But what must be their idea of the great Searcher -of all hearts, who believe that he has need of such instruments, -chooses them, or uses them. Such is not the picture of Him given in -this book. Here, God is God; the Saviour, man and God; the Holy -Spirit, the comforter and guide of man from God. There is no other -intercessor between man and God but the one, who is man and God, no -other guide but the Spirit, proceeding from both Father and Saviour, -no other atonement but the death of Christ, no other sacrifice but -his."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I am bewildered," said Constance, bending her head down to her hands -and covering her eyes in thought. The next moment, however, she looked -up, asking, "Then why do the clergy forbid us to read this book, if it -teaches so to know God?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Because it is that which condemns them," answered Iola; "they profess -that the religion they teach is founded upon this book, and in this -book I find the frequent command of God, to search the scriptures. The -priests say, I must not search them. Then, either they are not from -God, because they contradict him; or the book is not from God, because -it contradicts them. Now in this book I find innumerable proofs that -it is from God; and they themselves declare it to be so. They are -self-condemned to any one who opens it; and therefore have they sealed -it, lest men should read and know them for what they are."</p> - -<p class="normal">"And yet," said Constance, "who was so eager as you to save the good -bishop of Ely--who rejoiced so much at his escape?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"I say not that there are no good men amongst them, dear Constance," -replied her cousin; "for I believe that there are many; but all human -beings have their weaknesses. I believe doctor Morton to be a good -man; but of course he teaches nothing but the doctrines of the church -to which he belongs--he dare teach nothing else; for who would venture -to incur, not only the loss of every worldly good, but death itself--a -burning and a terrible death--when perhaps he thinks he can do as much -good, by following the ways of those who went before him, as by any -other path?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"But truth is beautiful," said Constance; "and would a good man teach -falsehood, when the very book of his religion shows him that it is -so?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Did he ever read that book? Did he ever study it?" asked Iola. "Did -he ever examine its pages closely, seeking no gloss or comment of -those who would pervert it, but merely asking the aid of the Holy -Spirit? Many a man is unwilling to examine too closely, when all his -earthly happiness depends upon his shutting his eyes. Many a man is -too timid to stand by his own judgment, however right, when there are -a multitude of decisions, however corrupt, against him."</p> - -<p class="normal">"But perhaps," said Constance, "the book may be so obscure and -difficult, that it cannot be understood without an interpretation."</p> - -<p class="normal">"It is clear and simple as the unclouded sky," replied Iola; "as easy -as the words which we address to babes. It was given to, and -transmitted by, unlettered fishermen. It made all clear that was dark, -and removed every cloud and every shadow. This book contains but one -mystery, instead of the thousands which they teach us; and that -mystery is explained, so that we cannot but believe even while we do -not comprehend."</p> - -<p class="normal">"But what does it teach, then?" asked Constance.</p> - -<p class="normal">"It teaches that we are to worship God alone," answered Iola. "It -teaches that to bow down before any creature, statue, or image, is to -offend the Creator, and is idolatry against God. It teaches that there -is no mediator, no intercessor but one, Christ, and that the office of -saints and martyrs is to praise God, not to intercede for mortals. It -teaches that the only atonement, the only sacrifice needful to expiate -the sins of the whole world, was that of Christ; that it was complete, -full, and sufficient, and that to look to any other for pardon, is to -rob God of his glory. It teaches that man can be pardoned by God -alone, and will be pardoned through faith in Christ. It teaches, -moreover, that, if any man keeps the whole law of God, even to the -smallest point, he has done no more than he is bound to do, and -therefore that his good works have no power to save him from the -original curse--how much loss to help or to save any other. It teaches -too, dear cousin, that repentance is needful to every one--the deep, -heartfelt, sincere repentance of the spirit; but that, to seek, by -inflicting pains upon our body, to atone for the evils we have -committed, is to rest upon a broken reed, to presume upon our own -strength, and to deny the efficacy of God's mercy in Christ."</p> - -<p class="normal">Constance listened with deep attention, till her cousin had done.</p> - -<p class="normal">"I would fain read that book," she said, in a hesitating tone; "but -the priests have always forbidden it."</p> - -<p class="normal">"God says, 'read it!'" said Iola. "Who shall set up the words of man -against the words of God?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Will you lend it to me, then?" asked Constance, timidly.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Oh, joyfully," answered Iola; "but it must be upon one condition, -dear Constance. I have bound you, by a promise, never to repeat -anything I say to you. I must now have another promise, never to let -any eye but your own see this little volume. When you read it, lock -the door. When you have done, hide it where no one can find it. I need -give you no motive, dear Constance," she added, throwing her arm round -her neck, and gazing affectionately into her eyes; "but yet let me -remind you, that my life is at stake, that the least imprudence, the -least indiscretion would give me over to a death by fire; for they -hold those who worship God as God himself has taught to be heretics. -We are not called upon either to be teachers or martyrs. We may be -permitted to hold on our own way, without offending others, so long as -we worship not things of stick and stone; but, should it be discovered -what my real thoughts are, that moment I should be dragged before -those who would force me to declare them. I would never renounce my -opinions or deny my belief; and the only fate before me would be -death."</p> - -<p class="normal">"God forbid!" said Constance earnestly. "God forbid I will be very -careful, Iola--more careful than if my own life was at stake."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I know you will, sweet sister," replied Iola, putting the book into -her hands. "Read it, Constance, read it and judge for yourself. Try to -cast from your mind everything you have heard on religion not -contained in this book; and, if you do that, this book will as -certainly lead you right as there is truth in Heaven."</p> - -<p class="normal">Constance took it, and retired to her own chamber, where she sat down -for a few moments' thought. Her first meditation, however, was not of -the book, but of Iola.</p> - -<p class="normal">Was this the same creature, she thought, whom she had known from -infancy--sweet, gay, playful Iola? Was this she whose heart she used -to think the lightest in the world, whose deepest meditations seemed -to break off in a sportive jest? At first it seemed strange, almost -impossible. But yet, when she called memory to her aid, and -recollected many of the circumstances of the past, especially during -the last two years, she saw that it might well be. She felt that her -own graver and somewhat slower spirit might not reach those depths of -thought into which Iola's seemed to plunge with bold and fearless -courage. She remembered many a gay speech, many a half-reply which had -appeared all sportiveness, but which, when examined and pondered, -proved to be full of mind and matter.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Yes," she said, at length. "I have loved her, but not esteemed her -enough. I have known her well, but not the depths. She is all that I -thought her; but she is more. Yet it was not she deceived me, but -myself. She hid nothing; but my eye was too dim to penetrate even the -light veil with which her happy nature covered her strong mind. It is -strange, what an awe I feel in looking at this little volume!" and she -gazed at it, as it lay upon her knee. "It must be that I have so often -heard that we ought not to read it, that I have yielded my judgment to -mere assertions. Yet I have heard the very men who bade me forbear -call it the word of God. I will read it. That word must be a comfort -and blessing. But I will pray first;" and kneeling down she began, -"Oh, blessed Saint Clare--"</p> - -<p class="normal">But then she suddenly stopped, and meditated for a moment, still -kneeling. She seemed puzzled how to frame her appeal. At length, -however, she bowed her head upon her hands, and repeated in English -the Lord's prayer. She added nothing more, but, rising from her knees, -unclasped the book, drew the lamp nearer, and began to read.</p> - -<p class="normal">The clock struck four, and found her reading still.</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h3>CHAPTER XXX.</h3> -<br> - -<p class="normal">One by one, the guests assembled in the hall of Chidlow castle, for -the first meal of the day which, as the reader well knows, was in -those days a very substantial affair. People in high station usually -dined, as it was called, at a very early hour; for, in all the -mutations of fashion, nothing has changed more than the dinner hour in -Europe. The labouring classes indeed, of all countries, consulting -health and convenience alone, have varied very little. It was then -about the hour of ten, when two or three of the guests appeared in the -hall. Then came the lord of the castle himself, with his sister, the -abbess, on his arm. Sir William Arden and two or three other guests -followed; then Lord Fulmer and some others, then Chartley, then Sir -Edward Hungerford.</p> - -<p class="normal">A great change had come over Lord Fulmer's aspect. He was calm, though -very grave, courteous and attentive to all, though somewhat absent in -his manner, and falling into frequent fits of thought. Even to -Chartley, whose demeanour was perfectly unchanged, he showed himself -polite, though cold, conversed with him once or twice across the -table, and by no allusion whatsoever approaching the subject of their -rencounter in the morning. The meal passed off cheerfully, with most -of those present; and, after it was over, the party in general -separated to prepare for the sports and occupations of the day.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Now, gentlemen," said Lord Calverly; "all who are disciples of St. -Hubert, prepare your horses; for, though the month of May is not come, -I am determined we will force a buck before the day is over. My good -sister, here, notwithstanding holy vows and pious meditations, loves -well to see a falcon fly or a dog run; and she will accompany us on -her mule. Take care that she does not outride us all; for the best -barb in my stables, except at the full gallop, will hardly outrun that -mule of hers."</p> - -<p class="normal">These words were followed by much hurrying away from the room; and, in -the moment of confusion, Lord Fulmer lightly touched Chartley's arm, -saying in a low tone--</p> - -<p class="normal">"My lord, before we set out, I have a word or two for your private -ear, if I may crave audience."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Assuredly!" replied Chartley. "You can take it, my lord, when you -think fit."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Then I will join you in your apartments, as soon as I am booted," -answered Fulmer.</p> - -<p class="normal">In somewhat less than five minutes, after Chartley had reached his own -chamber, he was joined by Fulmer prepared for the chase. As usual, -where men have a resolute inclination to cut each others' throats, all -sorts of ceremonious courtesy took place between them; and, after -Fulmer was seated, he leaned across the table, saying:</p> - -<p class="normal">"I have come, my Lord Chartley, to speak to you both of the past and -the future. As for the past, I have had time to think, not only of -what occurred between us this morning, but of my own conduct towards -you; and I do not scruple to avow that I feel I have been wrong."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Then, think of it no more, my good lord," replied Chartley, holding -out his hand to him frankly; but Lord Fulmer did not take it.</p> - -<p class="normal">"I have not yet done," he said. "I have owned that I was wrong, that I -behaved uncourteously and rashly, both last night and to-day, under -the influence of strongly moved passion, which has now passed away. I -apologize for it, and pray you to accept my excuse. So much for the -past; and now for the future, my lord. I trust I shall not forget -myself again; but thus are we circumstanced. You have become -acquainted with a lady contracted to me; you have had an opportunity -of rendering her service; and I have no doubt did so in the kindest -and most courteous manner. I mean not to say that you have done aught -that is wrong, or that, knowing she was pledged to be my wife, you -have striven to win her from me; but unwittingly, perhaps, you have -learned to love her yourself, and deprived me of a share of her -affections. Deny it not; for it is evident."</p> - -<p class="normal">He paused for an instant, as if the words he spoke were very bitter to -himself; and Chartley remained perfectly silent, with his eyes fixed -upon a spot on the table, as if waiting to hear what this commencement -would lead to.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Now, my lord," continued Fulmer, with a sigh, "to my mind, two men -cannot love one woman and both live. Such is the case with you and me. -I grant that you have as much right to love her as I have. I am -willing to look upon it as if we were merely two rivals for the same -hand; but still I say, there is but one way of terminating that -rivalry; for her faith is already plighted to me, and therefore the -question cannot and must not be submitted to her decision."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I understand your meaning, my good lord," said Chartley, seeing that -he paused, "and think that your view is wrong--"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Hear me out," said Fulmer, interrupting him. "I have yet a few words -more to say. My views can never be changed. They are based upon my own -nature. I cannot live, Lord Chartley, in doubt or jealousy. I cannot -live unloved by her I love. I cast myself upon your generosity then, -to yield me compensation for an injury, even unintentional, in such a -manner as will in no degree compromise the fair name of her who is to -be my wife or yours."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Upon my life, my noble lord," replied Chartley, in his usual frank -tone, "I do not think the right way for me to win her would be to cut -your throat, nor for you to cut mine."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Perhaps not," replied Lord Fulmer; "but so it must be; for it is the -only way open to us."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I think not," answered Chartley. "If I understand right, the Lady -Iola is formally and fully contracted to you. I will not deny, -Lord Fulmer, that this was painful news to me; but, I knew it was an -ill without remedy; and I never even dreamed, from that moment, of -seeking to win one thought of the lady, from her promised--her -affianced husband. So help me, Heaven, I would never have seen her -again willingly. I am not here of my own will, my lord. I am a -prisoner, and would willingly remove myself to any other abode, to -cause no pain or disquiet here. I do not believe, I never have -believed, that there is any occasion for such disquiet. The Lady Iola -may have won my regard; but I have no reason to suppose that I, in the -slightest degree, have won hers. No words of affection have ever -passed between us; no suit has been made on my part, no acknowledgment -on hers. As you have taken a more frank and courteous tone than you -assumed this morning, I will not now scruple to say how we first met, -and explain to you all that can be explained, without dangerously -affecting another. You doubtless know that I am here under the king's -displeasure, for aiding my good and reverend friend, the bishop of -Ely, to escape from the perils which menaced him. He travelled -disguised in my train, till we arrived at the abbey of St. Clare of -Atherston, where he had appointed a servant to meet him with -intelligence of importance. I sat next the Lady Iola at supper, but -parted with her there, and left the good bishop in the strangers' -lodging. Having cause to suspect that some one had left my train--a -servant of Sir Charles Weinants--for the purpose of giving intimation -of the bishop's place of refuge to those who might apprehend him, I -turned my horse in the forest, bidding my comrades ride on. Various -events detained me in the forest during the whole night."</p> - -<p class="normal">"But how came she in the forest too?" demanded Fulmer, gravely; for -the frankness of Chartley's manner had produced some effect.</p> - -<p class="normal">"I must pause one moment to consider," replied Chartley, "whether I -can answer that question without a breach of faith to others.--Yes, I -can. The Lady Iola it was who guided the bishop from the abbey, when -it was surrounded and attacked by the king's soldiery; and, in so -doing, her return was cut off."</p> - -<p class="normal">"But how came that task to fall upon her?" again demanded Fulmer.</p> - -<p class="normal">"That, my good lord, I can hardly tell you," answered Chartley; "for, -to say the truth, and the mere truth, I do not rightly know. There is -some secret communication between the abbey and the wood. Stay, I -remember; I have heard the bishop say, that many years ago, he saved -the life of the last Lord Calverly, petitioning for his pardon, and -obtaining it, when he was taken in one of the battles of those times. -This is most probably why the task was assigned to the lady, and why -she undertook it."</p> - -<p class="normal">Fulmer mused gloomily.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Perhaps so," he said at length; "but yet, my lord, methinks some -warmer words than mere courtesy must have been used, to induce the -stay of so young and inexperienced a lady, alone in the forest, for a -whole night, with a gay nobleman such as yourself."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Warmer <i>things</i>, if your lordship likes," cried Chartley, -indignantly; "for, by the Lord that lives, the thing that kept her -there was seeing the houses burning on the abbey green. That was warm -enough. For shame, Lord Fulmer! Have you consorted with people who -teach men to think there is no virtue in woman, no honour in man? But -let me do the lady justice. She was not alone with me. My Arab servant -was with us all the time--followed us close--sat with us in the old -castle hall; and I do not think ten sentences were spoken which he did -not hear. But, my good lord, since such is your humour, I will not -baulk you. I have borne this long enough. Be it as you say. Wait but a -few days, to let your conduct of last night pass from men's minds, and -I will afford you cause of quarrel to your heart's content, in which -this lady's name shall bear no share. Then we will void our -differences in the eye of all the world, as soon as I am no longer a -prisoner in ward. There is my hand on it."</p> - -<p class="normal">Fulmer took it and grasped it tight, with a feeling of rancorous -satisfaction, which he could hardly conceal.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Then for the present we are friends, my good lord," he said; "and I -will take care that nothing in my manner shall betray our secret, -while waiting your good pleasure."</p> - -<p class="normal">"As you will," answered Chartley. "Put on what seeming you may like. I -wear no vizard. But hark, there are the horses in the court-yard; and -here comes Sir William Arden, just in time to go with us."</p> - -<p class="normal">"In order to do what?" asked Sir William Arden, looking from the one -to the other, with an inquiring glance.</p> - -<p class="normal">"To hunt," replied Chartley. "Are you not going?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Oh yes," answered the knight. "Though 'tis somewhat early in the -year. Yet I suppose my good Lord Calverly's bucks are always fat, so -let us to horse."</p> - -<p class="normal">Descending the stairs of the tower, they speedily reached the -court-yard, and found all prepared for their expedition. The abbess -was already on her mule, Sir Edward Hungerford in the saddle, looking -down the length of his leg and thigh, in evident admiration of his own -fair proportions, Lord Calverly by the side of his horse, and huntsmen -and grooms, a goodly train.</p> - -<p class="normal">Iola and Constance stood together to witness the departure of the -party, having declined to join the hunt; and Sir William Arden paused -for a moment or two, by the side of the latter, while the rest mounted -their horses.</p> - -<p class="normal">The morning was fine, the scent lay well upon the dewy ground; a fat -solitary buck had been marked down in a covert, about two miles off; -and he was soon found, and the dogs put upon his steps. He took -straight across the chase, towards some other woods, at the distance -of four or five miles; and it was a beautiful sight to see the noble -beast darting along across the open country, with the dogs in full cry -behind him, and the troop of gay lords and ladies following. Chartley -gave way to all the spirit of the hunter, and galloped on, sometimes -talking to Lord Calverly, or Sir William Arden, and sometimes to Lord -Fulmer. To the latter his manner was courteous and easy; nor did the -slightest embarrassment appear in it, although he caught the eyes of -his elder friend fixed upon him, with a suspicious expression, -whenever any conversation took place between him and his rival. When -the buck was slain, however, and the morning's sport over, Sir William -Arden took the first opportunity of riding up to his young friend's -side, and saying, in a low tone, "I hope, my lord, you are not going -to play the fool."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Not more than usual, Arden," replied Chartley. "Have I shown by any -signs that the disease is aggravated?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Not that I perceive," answered Sir William Arden; "but, just as I was -coming away, that dear little girl said something to me, I could not -very well understand, about quarrels between you and that young lord -there."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Oh no," replied Chartley. "I will not quarrel with him; quarrels we -have had none since an early hour this morning. A few civil words only -have passed since; and of them more anon. But who comes here, spurring -so sharp to meet us? He seems to have a tabard on."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Nay, how should I know?" demanded Sir William Arden, almost sharply; -"if it be a herald, I trust he does not come to defy Lord Calverly in -the king's name."</p> - -<p class="normal">Almost as he spoke, a splendidly dressed pursuivant rode up, and -demanded aloud which was the Lord Fulmer.</p> - -<p class="normal">"I am he!" replied the young nobleman, spurring forward his horse. -"What want you with me, Master Pursuivant?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Merely to bear you his majesty's commands," said the pursuivant, "to -join him at York, where he now lies, without any delay. Not finding -your lordship at the castle, I rode on to seek you, as the king's -commands were urgent; and I must return with you."</p> - -<p class="normal">Lord Fulmer's countenance fell. "Am I to understand then that I go as -a prisoner?" he demanded.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Not in the least, my lord," answered the officer. "I believe it is in -order to consult you upon some affairs, that the king sent for your -lordship; but he ordered me strictly to find you out, wherever you -might be, and to return in your lordship's train to York."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Well then, for York, if it needs must be so," said Lord Fulmer, with -an expression of much discontent upon his face. "I could have wished -the command had come at some other time. Perhaps, I had better ride on -before," he continued, turning to Lord Calverly, "in order to prepare -my people for this unexpected journey."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Perhaps so, my dear lord," replied the old peer. "We should always in -this world take time and fortune by the forelock, otherwise we shall -never catch them, if they get on in front. I know the king intends to -honour you to the utmost," he added, in a low tone; "so away at once, -and show your zeal and promptness. There is nothing pleases a king so -much as to see diligence in obeying his commands."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I would fain speak with you for some moments before I go, my noble -lord," said Fulmer in the same low voice; but the old nobleman made a -sign of impatience, saying aloud, "No time for that, no time for that. -You will be back in a day or two at the farthest."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Then I must write," answered the young man, in a whisper; but, -raising his tone, he added, "Farewell, all gentlemen and ladies who -are likely to be gone before my return. My Lord Chartley, I will not -bid you adieu, as doubtless I shall find you here for some days to -come."</p> - -<p class="normal">"By my faith, I fear so," answered Chartley, laughing. "His grace the -king, when he has got his grasp upon a man's neck, is not famous for -slackening it, as long as there is any head above; but I wait his good -pleasure in all humility, trusting that you will bring me good -tidings, and use your best eloquence to work my liberation."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I will, upon my honour," answered Fulmer, earnestly; and then, -turning his horse, he rode away.</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h3>CHAPTER XXXI.</h3> -<br> - -<p class="normal">There is nothing which should teach man virtue, if not religion, more -than the study of history; not by showing that the result of evil -action is punishment to the ill-doer, for such is frequently not the -case, in this world at least, unless we take into account the moral -suffering which the consciousness of wickedness must produce: but by -showing in the strongest possible light the vanity of human wishes, -the futility of human efforts, when directed in any other course than -that which leads to imperishable happiness hereafter. We often see the -man who lies, and cheats, and grinds the poor, and deceives the -unwary, and wrongs the confiding, obtain the pitiful yellow dust which -has caused so much misery on earth. We see the grander knave who -plots, and fights, and overcomes, and triumphs, who desolates fertile -lands, and sheds the blood of thousands, obtain power, that phantom -which has led statesmen, priests, and kings, through oceans of fraud, -falsehood, and gore. We see them all passing away like a vain shadow, -snatched from the midst of trickery or strife, of disappointment or -success, of prosperity or adversity, before the cup of joy is tasted, -before effort has been crowned by fruition. A few lines of history, a -brief record of censure or panegyric; then the page is turned, and all -is over. The mighty and the good things last; and the spirits of those -who wrought them are gone on high.</p> - -<p class="normal">Richard walked in the gallery of the castle at York, his arms crossed -upon his chest, his eyes bent down upon the ground, his brain busy, -rejoining the broken threads of policy; as great a man perhaps as a -bad man can ever be. He was mighty as a soldier, mighty as a -politician, almost sublime in the vast wide-stretching reach of his -subtlety. Through life he had played a game almost against all odds; -and he had won every stake. He had seen those who stood between him -and the light swept away; he had contrived to remove obstacle after -obstacle; he had crushed or aided to crush all the enemies of his -house; he had imposed the silence of death, or the chains of exile, -upon all personal opponents; and he had often succeeded in the still -more perilous strife with the passions and the feelings of his own -heart; for, because he was ambitious, and all things gave place to -ambition, we have no right to conclude that his heart was without -feelings even of a gentle and a kindly nature. Ambition was the idol, -and to it the heart sacrificed its children.</p> - -<p class="normal">As he thus walked, a man in a black robe, with a velvet cap upon his -head, which he doffed as soon as he saw the king, entered the gallery. -His step roused Richard from his reverie; and, looking up, he -exclaimed:</p> - -<p class="normal">"Ha! How is the queen?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"No better, I grieve to say, your grace," replied the physician.</p> - -<p class="normal">"And when no better--worse," replied Richard, thoughtfully, "because a -day nearer the grave. These days, these days, they are but the fevered -pulses of the great malady, which, in the end, slays us all.--No -better?--What is her complaint?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"'Tis a pining wasting sickness, sire," replied the physician, -"proceeding from the spirits more than the blood. It has consumed her -ever since the death of the prince was announced to her so rashly, -which may have occasioned a curdling of the juices, and rendered them -no longer fit to support life. I grieve to say, the case is one of -serious danger, if her grace cannot be persuaded to take more -nourishment, and to cast off this black melancholy."</p> - -<p class="normal">"How long may it last?" asked Richard, gravely.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Not very long," replied the physician; "I trust art may do something -to correct and alleviate; but cure nothing can, unless the lady use -her own powers to overcome this despondency and gloom."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Well!" said Richard; and, at the same time, he bowed his head as an -indication that the physician might depart.</p> - -<p class="normal">"It is strange," he thought, as soon as he was alone again. "Not long -since, I should have heard such tidings with a sigh. Ann is dying, -that is clear. How beautiful I remember her--how sweetly beautiful! -Yet weak, very weak. The white and red roses might have adorned her -cheek; but she should not have entwined them in her marriage bed. I -loved her--yes, I loved her well--I love her still, though her -weakness frets me. Yet England must have heirs. The crown must not -become a football at my death, to be kicked from John de la Pole to -Harry of Richmond. At my death! When will that be, I wonder? Ay, who -can say? There hangs the cloud. No eye can penetrate it. Turn which -way we will, fate's thick dark curtain is around us, and no hand can -raise it up; but we must go on till we touch it. 'Tis well, perchance. -Yet did one but know when that hour of death is to come, how many -things might we not do, how many things might we leave undone. -Laborious plans, vast enterprises, schemes that require long long -years to perfect, might all be laid aside, and our energies fixed upon -the period that is ours. We work in the dark, and half our work is -vain. Well, well, time will show; and our labours must not be -imperfect, because we know not the result. Yes, with this ever-ready -fate yawning before me, nought must be delayed. Ann is dying, that is -clear. Had it not been so, perhaps it might have been necessary to put -her from me. Rome is an indulgent mother; and the sacrifice of a few -dozen lollards, together with some small share of gold, would have -found favour for a divorce. But she is dying, and that at least is -spared. My brother's daughter must be her successor. I will move at -Rome for the dispensation at once. And the lady too? But no fear of -her. She is ready and coming enough. She will have children surely, or -she will belie her father and mother. Heaven, what a progeny of them, -while I had but one son! Who goes there without?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"'Tis I, sire," replied Sir Richard Ratcliffe; appearing at the door.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Ah, Ratcliffe, come hither," said the king. "The queen is very ill, -Ratcliffe--dying, her physicians tell me."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Your Grace must bear Heaven's will patiently," replied the courtier.</p> - -<p class="normal">"I will so," answered Richard; "but we must foresee events, Ratcliffe. -The queen is dying. Men will say that I poisoned her; think you not -so, Ratcliffe?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"It matters little what men say, sire," answered the other, "since we -well know that half they say is false."</p> - -<p class="normal">"More than half," answered Richard. "Let a man look devout, and do -some seemly acts of charity, till he has made a name for the trumpet -of the multitude, and he may be luxurious, treacherous, false, -avaricious, if he pleases, he shall still have a multitude to speak -his praises to the sky. But let another, for some great object, do a -doubtful deed, though justified perhaps by the end in view, the whole -world will be upon his track, baying like hounds till they have run -him down. Every accident that favours him, every event, the mere fruit -of chance, that he takes advantage of, will be attributed to design -and to his act. No man will die, whom he could wish removed, but what -mankind will say, he poisoned him; no enemy will fall by the sword of -justice, but it will be a murder; no truth will be told favouring him, -but a falsehood will be found in it, and his best acts and highest -purposes will be made mean by the mean multitude. Well, it matters -not. We must keep on our course. While I hold the truncheon I will -rule; and these turbulent nobles shall find that, slander me as they -will, they have a master still. Oh, if Heaven but grant me life, I -will so break their power, and sap their influence, that the common -drudges of the cities, the traders who toil and moil after their dirty -lucre, shall stamp upon the coronets of peers, and leave them but the -name of the power which they have so long misused. But I must secure -my house upon the throne. The queen is dying, Ratcliffe--I must have -heirs, man, heirs."</p> - -<p class="normal">Ratcliffe smiled meaningly, but replied not; for to mistake his -purposes, while seeming to divine them, was somewhat dangerous with -Richard.</p> - -<p class="normal">The king remained in thought for a moment or two, and then enquired, -in an altered tone--</p> - -<p class="normal">"Who is in the castle?"</p> - -<p class="normal">Ratcliffe looked at him in some surprise; for his question was not as -definite as usual, and Richard went on to say--</p> - -<p class="normal">"I heard that the princess Mary, of Scotland, had arrived last night. -I sent too for Lord Fulmer. I will not have that marriage go forward -till I am sure; and, if they dare to disobey me, let them beware."</p> - -<p class="normal">"He is not yet arrived, sire," answered Ratcliffe; "but there has been -hardly time. The princess, however, came last night. She went first to -London by sea, it seems, and has since followed your grace hither. She -has just returned to her apartments from visiting the queen."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Ha! Has she been there?" said Richard. "That had been better not; but -I will go and see her. Let some one go forward to say I wait upon her -highness. We must have this marriage concluded speedily, betwixt the -Duke of Rothsay and my niece Anne. Then, Harry of Richmond, thou hast -lost a hand; and a Scotch hand is hard, as we have found sometimes. -Go, good Ratcliffe, go to her yourself."</p> - -<p class="normal">Ratcliffe immediately retired; and, after meditating for a few minutes -longer, Richard followed him. He found two servants waiting at the -door of the room to which he directed his steps, together with his -attached though somewhat unscrupulous friend and counsellor, -Ratcliffe, who had delivered his message and retired from the presence -of the princess. The door was immediately thrown open, one of the -servants saying, in a loud voice, "The king;" and Richard entered with -a calm, quiet, graceful step, as unlike the man which the perverted -statements of his enemies have taught us to imagine him as possible.</p> - -<p class="normal">Seated at the farther end of the room, with two or three young women -standing round her, was a lady apparently of some six or seven and -thirty years of age--perhaps older, but she seemed no more--whose -beauty could hardly be said to have been touched by the hand of time. -The expression of her face was mild and melancholy; but yet there was -something high and commanding in it too. Her dress was very plain, -without ornament of any kind; and the colour was sombre, though not -exactly that of mourning. She rose when the king entered, and took a -step forward in front of her attendants, while Richard hastened on at -a quicker pace, and taking her hand courteously, pressed his lips upon -it; after which he led her back to her chair. The ladies around -hurried to bring forward a seat for the king of England; but he -remained standing by the side of the princess, for a moment or two, -inquiring after her health and her journey. She answered briefly, but -with courtesy, saying, that she had preferred to travel by sea, rather -than cross the border, on both sides of which were turbulent and -lawless men.</p> - -<p class="normal">"I have come, my lord the king," she continued, "with full powers to -negociate and conclude the terms of the treaty already proposed -between your grace and my beloved brother, for the marriage of my -nephew and your niece. You may think it strange that he should choose -a woman for an ambassador; but, as you know, I begged the office; and -as you kindly seconded my views, by the hint contained in your letter, -he was content to trust me."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I could do no less than give the hint, as knight and gentleman, when -I knew your wishes," replied Richard; "but, to say truth, dear lady, I -almost feared to yield to them. It is nothing new to see princesses -ruling states and guiding negociations; and, from all my own -experience, I should say, that strong must be the head and resolute -the heart which can resist their eloquence, their beauty, and their -gentleness. I always therefore fear to meet a lady as a diplomatist; -but I could not refuse when you laid on me your commands."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Yet I fear," said Mary, "that those commands, as you term them, were -somehow made known to my brother or his ministers; for I find that -several messengers were sent to England before I departed myself; and, -the day before I set out, an old servant of mine, John Radnor, whom I -always fancied faithful, and whom your grace knew right well, left me, -with letters or messages, I am told, for England, which were kept -secret from me, and I have never seen him more."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Nor have I," said Richard, gravely; "but when we are alone we will -talk farther."</p> - -<p class="normal">"These are faithful friends," said the princess, looking round to the -young ladies who were with her; but, marking a slight smile which -curled Richard's lip, she added: "If your grace has matters of -secrecy, they shall go. Leave us, girls."</p> - -<p class="normal">The king and the princess remained perfectly silent till the room was -cleared; but then Richard said:</p> - -<p class="normal">"We, in high stations, dear lady, never know who are really faithful -friends, till we have tried them long and in many ways. You said but -now, that you fancied this John Radnor was your faithful servant. Now -this surprises me not," he added, in a tone of gallantry, not -unmingled with sarcasm, "for I always looked upon him as mine; and he, -who is my faithful servant, must be yours."</p> - -<p class="normal">The princess gazed at him for a moment with a look of surprise; but -she then bent her eyes down, saying, "I think I understand your -highness. Was he a spy?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Nay, that is a harsh term," answered Richard. "He was not exactly a -spy. Peasants and franklins, when there is a great man in the -neighbourhood, will bring him presents or offerings of no great worth, -on the sweet certainty of receiving something in return more valuable -than that they bring. Thus did John Radnor with intelligence. When he -learned aught that was likely to be well paid, he brought it to him -who was likely to pay him best. But let us speak of him no more; for -his tale-telling mouth is closed in the dull earth. He was killed by -accident, on that very journey of which you speak; but his letters -were brought on by some posts of mine, who followed close behind him. -All the packets that you have sent me, within the last year, have -reached me safely, I believe--those which Radnor brought, delicately -fingered indeed, and those which came by other hands, either intact, -or resealed with greater skill. I have executed your commands to the -letter, however, without attending to the recommendations of others, -which sometimes accompanied them. But I grieve to say I have had no -success. Many are the inquiries I have made; but not a vestige, not a -trace is to be found."</p> - -<p class="normal">The princess cast down her eyes, and crushed a bright tear drop -between their jetty fringes. "Nevertheless," she answered, after a -moment's silence, "I will pursue the search myself, though not -doubting either your grace's kindness or your diligence. It is hardly -possible that his companions in arms should not mark the place where -so distinguished a man lies, even by a stone."</p> - -<p class="normal">"He was indeed," said Richard, "the flower of courtesy and the pride -of knighthood. I remember the good earl well, just before he went to -Denmark, to bring home your brother's bride; and seldom have I seen -one so worthy to live in long remembrance, or to be mourned by the -widowed heart with such enduring grief as your noble husband, the earl -of Arran. Did I know where he lies, I myself would erect a monument to -his memory, although he took part with the enemies of my house."</p> - -<p class="normal">While he had been pronouncing this panegyric upon her dead husband, -the eyes of the princess, countess of Arran, had overflowed with -tears; but she answered when he ceased, saying--</p> - -<p class="normal">"That were indeed generous; and I beseech you show to me equal -generosity in assisting me to pursue my search."</p> - -<p class="normal">"To the utmost of my power will I aid you," replied Richard, "although -I am sure it must be in vain. Let me, however, ask what leads you to -believe that he still lives?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Nay, I believe not," replied the princess. "It is something less than -belief--a doubt, a clinging hope. Perchance, had I seen his dead -corpse, I might have felt somewhat of the same. I might have fancied -that there was warmth about the heart, and tried to bring back life -into its seat, though life was quite extinct. Such is woman's love, my -lord. But you may ask what has nourished even this faint hope, when -twelve long years have passed, and when I received authentic news of -his death in the last skirmish of the war. That man, John Radnor, -swore that he saw him dead upon the field. The others who were with -him, in some sort, corroborated the same story; but they were not -quite so sure. My brother, all his court, affected to believe that it -was true--to have no doubt thereof. But yet, if they were so -thoroughly convinced, why, when they wanted me to wed another, did -they press so eagerly for a divorce at the court of Rome--a divorce -from a dead man! They must, at least, have doubted. Thus they taught -me to doubt; and, ere I yield even to my king's authority, I must see -and inquire for myself. All I ask is, let me find him living, or find -where they buried him. His arms, his look, must have shown, whoever -found the body, that he was no ordinary man, to be buried with the -common herd on the spot where he fell."</p> - -<p class="normal">Richard shook his head, saying, "Alas, lady, you know not what a field -of battle is. The blows and bloody wounds, the trampling of the flying -multitude, the horses' hoofs, will often deface every feature, and -leave the dead body no resemblance to the living man; and, as for -arms, there is always hovering round a field of battle a foul flock of -human vultures, ready to despoil the dead, the moment that the tide of -contest ebbs away."</p> - -<p class="normal">"But this was a mere skirmish," replied the lady.</p> - -<p class="normal">"I know, I know," said Richard. "He was hurrying across the country -with a few score Lancastrian spears, to join Margaret at Tewksbury, -when he was encountered by Sir Walter Gray, with a superior force. But -think you, had he been alive, no tidings would have reached you from -himself, no message, no letter?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"That he should have sent none would indeed be strange," replied the -lady; "but you know not, my lord, how I have been watched and guarded. -I know that some of my letters from Denmark were actually stopped; -and, till within the last two years, I have been almost a prisoner. -Nay, more, I find they spread a report that I was married to the earl -of Hamilton, amongst many other strokes of policy to bend me to their -wishes. All these things have made me doubt. 'Tis true, I cannot fully -give way to hope; but yet I perceive clearly they themselves do not -feel sure Arran is dead."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Well, lady, my best assistance you shall have," answered Richard. -"All sheriffs of counties, and their officers, shall be commanded to -give you aid--ay, and to prosecute the search themselves; and to -monasteries and abbeys you will need no commendation."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Thanks, gracious prince," replied the lady; and Richard, with an air -of real kindness, answered:</p> - -<p class="normal">"No thanks are merited, where the pleasure received is far more than -that given. Would I could aid you farther!"</p> - -<p class="normal">And then, changing the conversation, he added: "You have been to see -my poor unhappy queen, I find. She is sadly ill, poor Anne; and the -physicians give but very little hope."</p> - -<p class="normal">"She looks ill indeed," replied the princess; "yet, I trust that care -and skilful tending may restore her."</p> - -<p class="normal">Richard shook his head, and fell into a fit of thought, or seemed to -do so.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Her heart has received a wound that will never heal," he answered, at -length, with a sigh. "Man's nature resists these things; but woman's -yields. Always a delicate flower, this last storm has crushed her. Our -beautiful boy, our Edward, our only one, to be snatched from us in -this sudden and fearful way! It was enough, surely it was enough, to -break a heart so tender as hers. Alas, lady, I must not indulge in -hope. But this conversation unmans me," he continued. "I am not fit -now to discuss matters of urgent business. To-night, lady, to-night we -will talk of the marriage of your nephew with my niece. At present, I -can think of nothing but my dead boy, and my dying wife. Farewell, -then, farewell for the present. Alas, poor lady! It has fallen hard -upon her;" and, turning sharply away, he quitted the room, muttering -words to himself, as if solely occupied with the fate of his wife, and -the loss of his son.</p> - -<p class="normal">The moment he had closed the door, however, he took the arm of -Ratcliffe, who was still in waiting, and led him along the corridor, -speaking to him in a low voice.</p> - -<p class="normal">"We must conclude this matter speedily," he said--"the marriage, -Ratcliffe. I mean the marriage. I will have you go yourself."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I am ready this moment, sire," answered Ratcliffe. "But tell me where -I am to go, and my foot shall be in the stirrup within half an hour."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Where?" exclaimed Richard, in a tone of surprise, "why, to the -sanctuary at Westminster, to be sure. I must have you deal with our -good sister, Elizabeth of Woodville, the queen dowager, and persuade -her to give her girls into my safe custody."</p> - -<p class="normal">"That were difficult, very difficult, my lord," replied Ratcliffe.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Not a whit," said Richard. "Be liberal of promises; say that I will -wed her daughters to the noblest in the realm. Tell her, my own child -being dead, my brother's children become objects of love and care, -instead of fear. Assign them liberal pensions--ay, and give the same -unto the queen their mother. Tell her, her kinsmen shall be well -treated and restored to their estates and honours, and contrive to -whisper in the ear of my fair niece Elizabeth, that, were Richard -free, as he soon may be, he would set her on the throne of England. -Dost thou understand me, Ratcliffe?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Ay, gracious lord, right well," replied Ratcliffe. "I have never -wanted zeal; and, if zeal can do aught, within ten days the princesses -shall be in your grace's hand."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Zeal! Thou hast more than zeal, Ratcliffe," exclaimed Richard. "Zeal -is the gallant horse that bears us on full speed. Wit is the hand that -guides him. Why look'st thou thoughtful, man?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"I was but thinking, sire," answered Ratcliffe, "that it were well to -send off messengers to the pope. To wed your niece, you must have a -dispensation. Rome has no pity for love's impatience, little -consideration for exigencies of state. 'Twere well to have matters -begun and carried on at once, with that slow court, or we shall have -objections, and at first refusals."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Refusals!" said Richard, with a bitter smile. "There are still -lollards in England, Ratcliffe; and by St. Paul, if he delay or -hesitate, his triple crown may lose its brightest gem. We are a devout -son of the church, my friend; but still we must be tender to our -subjects. See the bishop of London, when you are there, and bid him -cease all flame and faggot denunciations. Tell him that reasons of -state require us to be tolerant at least for the time, and insinuate -that we intend to pass an act for the relief of men's consciences."</p> - -<p class="normal">"He will send the news to Rome, sire," said Ratcliffe, with some -hesitation.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Let him," answered Richard, with a meaning smile; "'tis what I would -have! I would provide something to give up, lest Rome's demands should -be too unreasonable. A little fear, too, is salutary. So see him, see -him, and put the matter as I have said, strongly enough to create -alarm, not strongly enough to give offence. But the queen and her -daughter must be first dealt with. Let me have her forth from -sanctuary, and my wife no longer in the way between us; and I will -pass over papal dispensations, and laugh at Roman thunders. You have -your directions, away."</p> - -<p class="normal">Thus saying, he turned to the door of his cabinet, round which several -persons were waiting.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Lord Fulmer has arrived, your grace, and is waiting below in the -green chamber," said one of the attendants.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Bring him hither," answered Richard; "and mark me, if any news come -from the coast, give the messengers instant admission;" and he entered -the cabinet.</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h3>CHAPTER XXXII.</h3> -<br> - -<p class="normal">Richard had seated himself, and taken up a paper from the table, which -he was perusing attentively, when Lord Fulmer entered. He laid down -the letter instantly, however, and gave the young nobleman the most -flattering reception.</p> - -<p class="normal">"This is kind indeed, my lord," he said, extending his hand to him. "I -did not think the journey could have been performed so quickly. It -shows that you look upon the king's service as paramount indeed, when -you can quit your lady love thus, at a moment's notice, to render him -assistance."</p> - -<p class="normal">Unwittingly the monarch touched upon a tender point, as the reader is -aware, and Fulmer felt in painfully. A cloud came upon his brow; and -he replied, somewhat coldly, that he was always ready to serve the -king.</p> - -<p class="normal">"So, so," thought Richard, who was a great master of looks, and a -great observer of them, "this young man is moody. I suppose my -messenger arrived just in time. We must put a stop to this."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I am glad to hear it is so, my lord," he said aloud, in a somewhat -proud and kingly tone; "for while we can, as you know, curb with a -strong hand the turbulent and the rebellious, we are ever willing to -shower honours and rewards upon those who serve us zealously and -faithfully."</p> - -<p class="normal">"The only reward I desire, your grace," replied Fulmer, "is your kind -permission to complete my marriage with the Lady Iola St. Leger as -speedily as may be. I and my family have ever been faithful servants -to the house of York. We have never changed our faction; and to your -grace's person you know I am attached. I trust then that I may have -your permission."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Ay, and much more," answered Richard. "There are intentions in my -bosom towards you, and my good Lord Calverly, which need not be -mentioned; but they will bear fruit--they will bear fruit;" and he -nodded his head significantly. "As soon as this expedition is over, on -which I would have you go,--I mean into Dorsetshire, to guard the -coast there for a few days, and put down the turbulent spirit of the -people in those parts, your marriage shall take place."</p> - -<p class="normal">"May it not take place as I go thither, sire?" asked Fulmer, with an -impatient tone. "I must have a day or two for preparation. 'Tis but -the last ceremonies of the church are wanting; and I know that I shall -have Lord Calverly's good will. I will set off immediately, when she -is my own.</p> - -<p class="normal">"What," exclaimed Richard, "has not my Lord Calverly told you that we -propose to be present ourselves? He concealed it from you, to make it -a pleasant surprise. No, no, this business admits of no delay. These -turbulent peasants must be put down, before their discontent becomes -dangerous; and you must away at once."</p> - -<p class="normal">"May I speak plainly to your grace?" demanded Fulmer.</p> - -<p class="normal">Richard bowed his head gravely; and the other went on, in a somewhat -mortified tone.</p> - -<p class="normal">"In quitting Chidlow castle now, for your grace's service," he said, -"I leave a somewhat dangerous rival with my promised bride."</p> - -<p class="normal">"A rival!" said Richard. "Who may that be? I thought she was -contracted to you."</p> - -<p class="normal">"It is so, sire," answered Fulmer; "but we all know that no contracts -are held very valid, by some men, against the power of love."</p> - -<p class="normal">"My brother Edward thought so," answered Richard, with a sarcastic -turn of the lip. "Who may this rival be, I say?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"No other than the Lord Chartley," answered Fulmer, "whom your grace -has placed in ward with the lady's uncle."</p> - -<p class="normal">"What, that gay youth again!" exclaimed Richard, with a laugh. "By my -faith he meets us at every turn. But he shall be looked to--make your -mind easy--he shall be looked to. Only serve us faithfully and well, -and the lady's hand shall be yours, whoever may gainsay it."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Her hand were of little value to me, my good lord and sovereign," -replied Fulmer, boldly, "if her heart be given to another."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Her heart!" said Richard, with one of those low, cold, withering -laughs, so painful to an enthusiastic mind; "well, well, be you easy, -this gay fisherman of hearts, this Chartley, shall be removed in a -week or two, to some other place."</p> - -<p class="normal">Fulmer was just in the act of muttering to himself--"In a week or -two!" when the door of the cabinet was opened; and a gentleman in -dusty apparel entered.</p> - -<p class="normal">"They bade me come in, sire," he said, in a blunt tone, "though the -news I bear is not a fair exchange for a gracious welcome. The earl of -Oxford, with some other gentlemen of repute, has broken out of Ham -castle, and has taken the way to Britanny."</p> - -<p class="normal">Richard smiled; and, seeing that the gentleman had something more to -add, he said--</p> - -<p class="normal">"Go on."</p> - -<p class="normal">"It is but a rumour," answered the other; "but, when at Dover, tidings -were brought, that Sir John Fortescue, one of your officers in Calais, -with twelve young gentlemen of good stock, had followed the same -course."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Ha!" said Richard, in a sterner tone. "Is this so wide spread? But it -matters not," he added the moment after, with the smile returning to -his lip. "I have the wasp in my gauntlet; and he cannot sting, but -die."</p> - -<p class="normal">"There was much turbulence in Kent too, as I rode along," said the -blunt messenger.</p> - -<p class="normal">Richard mused for some moments, and then said--</p> - -<p class="normal">"It is not comfortable news, Sir Arthur. Nevertheless be you welcome. -Is there anything else, you have to say?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"No, my liege," answered the old knight, "what I have had to say is -bad enough; but, as I came along, not three miles from York, I passed -a limber young gentleman, on a weary horse. I have seen him in John -Hutton's train; and he told me that he had ridden post, from a place -called Lyme in Dorset, whither he had come in a fishing-boat, to bear -your grace tidings from Britanny."</p> - -<p class="normal">The news seemed to affect Richard more than all the rest; and starting -up he exclaimed--</p> - -<p class="normal">"Ha! Call me a groom, there!"</p> - -<p class="normal">A groom was instantly called; and the king demanded, gazing at him -with an eager eye--"Has any one arrived from Britanny?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Not that I know of, sire," replied the man; "but there was some one -rode into the court just now."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Bring him hither, instantly," said Richard; and, seating himself -again at the table, he gnawed the side of his hand with his front -teeth.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Might I venture to say a word, sire?" asked Lord Fulmer.</p> - -<p class="normal">"No, sir, no!" exclaimed Richard, vehemently, waving his hand for -silence, and then resuming his bitter meditation.</p> - -<p class="normal">At the end of a few minutes, a young gentleman covered with dust, -pale, and evidently sinking with fatigue, was introduced into the -cabinet; and the king, fixing his eyes upon him, demanded--"What -news?--You are Sir John Hutton's nephew, if I mistake not."</p> - -<p class="normal">"The same, my liege," replied the young man, in a feeble tone. "Would -that my uncle had been still in Britanny, methinks he had watched -better."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Speak, speak," said the king, in as calm a voice as he could command. -"Some mischief has happened--say what has gone amiss."</p> - -<p class="normal">"The earl of Richmond, my gracious lord, has escaped from Vannes," -replied the young man. "He was pursued with all speed, tracked by his -own dog; but he reached the gates of Angers just as the duke's men -were at his heels."</p> - -<p class="normal">Richard sat for a moment as if stupified. Then turning fiercely to -Fulmer, he exclaimed, "Is this a time to talk of marriages? To horse, -Lord Fulmer, and away. Your instructions shall be ready in an hour. -Serve the king well, and the brightest lady in all the land shall be -yours, if you but ask her. Fail, and as I live I will give her to -another. By Heaven, we will take hostages of all men; there is too -little faith on earth. The lady's hand for the best doer! Till then, -I'll keep her sure. Away, let me hear no more!"</p> - -<p class="normal">Fulmer dared not express the feeling which these words called up, but -hastened from the room, with a flushed brow and cheek, while Richard, -leaning his head upon his hand, muttered once or twice, "'Tis time to -buckle on our armour."</p> - -<p class="normal">The two gentlemen who had brought him the intelligence which had so -moved him remained standing before him without receiving the slightest -notice, for some five minutes, though one was hardly able to stand -from fatigue, and both were somewhat alarmed at the absent and unusual -mood into which the king was plunged. His face was agitated, while he -thus thought, with a thousand shades of emotion. Now he bit his lip, -and fixed his keen eye upon the floor; now his brow contracted, and -his lip quivered; now he raised his eyes to the fretted and painted -ceiling over head, with a sort of vacant look, from which all -expression was banished; and when he at length ended this fit of -meditation with a loud laugh, both the spectators feared his powerful -mind had become affected, by the disappointment he had lately -undergone. They tried, indeed, to suppress all signs of wonder; but he -seemed to read their thoughts, the moment his spirit was re-called to -the immediate business of the hour.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Strange, Sir Arthur," he said, "that the things which--seen through -rage and disappointment--are magnified, as in a mist, into giant -evils, should, under a moment's calm reflection, diminish to their own -pigmy reality. Here now, a minute or two ago, I thought the escape of -this earl of Richmond from Britanny, and the reception in France, a -mighty great disaster, the earl of Oxford's flight from Ham a -portentous incident. Now it moves my merriment to think how I would -whip the dame of Derby's beggar boy back to his Breton almshouse, if -he dared to set his foot within this realm of England. By holy St. -Paul, I would give him safe conduct over the narrow seas, and not -place a galliot to impede his coming, for the mere jest of scourging -him like a truant back to school, but that our realm has bled too much -already, and that I hold the life of every subject dear. Who is this -Richmond? Where is his name in arms? On what fields has he gained -glory? Where learned he the art of war? And is it such a man as this -shall come to battle for a crown, with one whose cradle was a corslet, -his nursery a bloody fight, his schools Hexham, and Barnet, and -Tewksbury, his pedagogues York, and Salisbury, and Warwick and Edward? -Where are his generals? Will Dorset--feeble, vacillating, frippery -Dorset, lead the van, and order the battle? Methinks, it is indeed -meet matter for merriment; and I may well laugh, to think that I -should have given an anxious look towards the movements of this Tudor -boy. Say, my good friend, have all the fugitive lords gone with him -into France? But you are weary. Sit you in that chair--nay, the king, -wills it. Now answer me."</p> - -<p class="normal">"No, my gracious liege," replied young John Hutton; "he gave them all -the slip, I hear; sent them to the duke's court, to compliment him on -his recovery; and thus having lulled suspicion, by the sacrifice of -his friends, he fled away with only four in company?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Is the good duke then well again?" asked Richard, with a slight frown -once more contracting his brow; "what news of Master Landais?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"I heard he was right well, sire, and in high favour with his lord," -replied the young man; "but I stayed not to learn all that was -passing; for I thought your grace had been ill-served, and, entering a -fishing-boat at once, I came over, and took horse. I have not lain in -a bed since; for, although evil news never make a welcome messenger, -yet I fancied your Highness' service might be benefitted by early -tidings; and I thought that if it should be really so, your frown -would prove lighter to me than your thanks for better tidings."</p> - -<p class="normal">"You did well," said Richard, gravely, "you did right well, young man; -and shall not go unrewarded. Weinants has been outwitted; over -discreet men often are. Now go and seek repose; and remember, take -your place at the board of our gentlemen of the privy chamber, till I -can place you better."</p> - -<p class="normal">The young man bowed, with a grateful look, and withdrew. Then turning -to the other, Richard said, "Are you too over-weary, Sir Arthur?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Faith not I, my lord the king," replied the old knight. "I am -hardened. My old clay has been beat to such consistence with hard -knocks, that it cracks not easily."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Well, we will give you till to-morrow for repose," said Richard, -"then, good, faith, you must back to Kent, and strive to quiet the -turbulent folks. You shall have letters, and authority. 'Tis pity no -hemp grows there; but you will find ropes at Dartford--you understand -me."</p> - -<p class="normal">When Richard was once more left alone, he strode up and down the room -for several minutes, in much agitation. "No more losses!" he said at -length, "No more losses! They must not be suffered to fall off. This -marriage must go forward quickly, once more to heal the breaches in -the house of York. They shall not be patched with Tudor clay. We must -keep all, gain more. This young Lord Fulmer, I was somewhat stern with -him in my haste. I must smooth that down before he goes. But I will -keep my fair hostage for his faith. Chartley--there is great power and -wealth and many friends there. He must be won. Perchance this heiress -may be a meet bait for him too. Let them contend for her in the king's -service. At all events, while I have the pretty decoy in my own hand, -I can whistle either bird back to the lure."</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h3>CHAPTER XXXIII.</h3> -<br> - -<p class="normal">It was like a cloud passing away from a summer sky. It was as when a -weary traveller laying down the heavy burden he has carried far, by -the side of the road, stretches his freed limbs in an interval of -rest. Such was the effect of Lord Fulmer's departure from Chidlow. -Iola's light and buoyant heart bounded up from beneath the load; all -her bright and happy spirits returned; the smile came back to her lip; -and, though the rose took longer to expand upon her cheek again, yet, -after a night of sweet calm rest, some part of the bloom had returned.</p> - -<p class="normal">Constance was never very gay; but she was cheerful. Chartley felt that -a source of constant irritation and annoyance was removed; and, with -the happy facility of youth, he prepared to enjoy the present hour, -careless of fortune's turn the next. Even the abbess, though she knew -little or nothing of what had been passing in the hearts around her, -seemed to share in the relief, and laughed and talked in merry mood, -especially with Chartley, who was an object of high admiration to her. -Clear-sighted Sir William Arden, who had seen right well that Chartley -and his rival could not go on long in the same dwelling without danger -of bloodshed, felt his apprehensions removed; and Sir Edward -Hungerford remarked:--</p> - -<p class="normal">"Well, I am glad Fulmer is gone; for he was turning marvellous fierce, -and he wore such an ill-appointed doublet. It was painful to see the -blue and yellow, and made one think of some strange bird."</p> - -<p class="normal">Only the good pompous lord of the castle seemed unchanged; and he, -"full of wise saws and modern instances," walked gravely about, -reasoning in very trite sort upon all he saw, and lecturing rather -than conversing.</p> - -<p class="normal">Early in the morning of the day after Fulmer's departure, all those -who were mere guests, invited for a day or two, took their leave and -left the castle. The abbess proposed to return to her cure on the -following morning; and Lord Calverly was laying out various plans for -making the heavy time pass lightly, when a courier arrived with -letters from the king's lieutenant in the county.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Now good faith," he said, "this is unfortunate; for it breaks all my -purposes. This noble lord here requires my immediate presence, to -consult as to the best and most approved means of preserving peace and -tranquillity in the county. He knows I have some experience in such -things; and, though my judgment be but a poor judgment, yet he has -confidence therein. Strange stories are current, he says, of meetings -of peasantry by night, and strangers coming from distant parts to be -present thereat. God forefend that there should be new troubles -coming! But I must to horse and away. I will return before night; and, -in the mean time, lords and ladies, you must amuse yourselves as best -you may. There are fish in the stream, deer in the park, chess, dice, -and other games in the little hall, instruments of music in the -gallery, lutes, citherns, and the rest, so that you have means of -entertainment if you seek it; and, good faith, if you are dull I -cannot help it; for you know, my Lord Chartley, the call of duty is -imperative, and courtesy, which gives place to nothing else, must -yield to that."</p> - -<p class="normal">They were not dull; but how shall I describe the passing of that day? -To Chartley and to Iola it was a long draught of the cup of joy. Did -they drink too deeply? I almost fear they did. Chartley <i>resolved</i> to -act in all things prudently, to be calm, quiet, and upon his guard, -though courteous and easy, as he would be to any lady in whom he had -no interest. Iola <i>resolved</i> neither to be cold nor warm in manner -towards him, neither to encourage nor to repel, to seek nor to avoid, -to let his conduct be the guide of hers, to govern her feelings and to -tranquillise her heart.</p> - -<p class="normal">Oh, resolutions, resolutions! How that heart, which was to be so -tranquil, beat, when her uncle rode away, and she felt herself left -with him she loved, to pass the hours almost as they would! Heaven -knows how they flew. Chartley was often with her. He did not shut -himself in his chamber. He did not ride out to hunt, nor walk forth to -meditate alone. At first he conversed with her, as they had done at -their meeting in the abbey, gaily, cheerfully, with a vein of thought -running through the merriment, and a touch of feeling softening the -whole. But they were sometimes left alone together; and gradually they -began to call up the memories of the past, to talk of scenes and -incidents which had occurred, and words which had been spoken during -the long adventurous night they had passed in the forest. It was -dangerous ground; they felt it shake beneath them; but yet they would -not move away. Their hearts thrilled as they spoke. Iola, with the eye -of memory, saw Chartley sitting at her feet; and he, in fancy, felt -her breath fanning his cheek as her head drooped upon his shoulder in -sleep. Oh, how treacherous associations will open the gates of the -heart to any enemy that desires to enter! They approached nearer and -nearer to subjects which they had determined to avoid; they even spoke -of them in circuitous and ambiguous phrases. The words which they -uttered did not express their full meaning, but the tones and the -looks did; and, by the time that the sun had sunk to within half an -hour's journey of the horizon, Iola and Chartley knew that they loved -each other, as well as if they had spoken and vowed it a thousand -times.</p> - -<p class="normal">She was agitated, much agitated, it is true, but perhaps less so than -he was; and to see why, we must look for a moment into their hearts. -Iola felt that in loving him she was doing no wrong, that the contract -which bound her to Lord Fulmer was altogether void and invalid, that -marriages in infancy, where that mutual and reasonable consent is -absent, upon which every contract must be based, were altogether -unlawful; and that therefore, morally and religiously, she was as free -as if her relations had never unjustly made a promise in her name. It -may be that she had been easily convinced--it may be that love for one -and disliking for another had smoothed the way for such conviction; -but still she was <i>convinced</i>; and no consciousness of doing wrong -added weight to other emotions. She might contemplate the future with -dread; she might gaze upon the coming days as upon a wide sea of -tumultuous waves, through which she could see no track, beyond which -appeared no shore; and she might tremble lest the billows should -overwhelm her. But she felt confident in the protection of Heaven, and -sure that she was doing nought to forfeit it.</p> - -<p class="normal">Not so exactly Chartley. Not alone the future, but the present also, -had its darkness for him. He knew not her exact situation; he knew not -whether the ceremonies of the church--often in those days performed -between mere children, and looked upon, when once performed, as a -sacrament, merely requiring an after benediction to be full and -complete--had or had not taken place between her and Lord Fulmer. His -reason might teach him that such espousals, where neither the heart -nor the judgment were consulted, were in themselves wicked and -dangerous; but his mind had not yet reached the point of considering -them quite invalid. He had been brought up as a strict Roman Catholic. -It was the only religion tolerated in his native land; and, although -he could not but see that gross corruptions had crept into the church -to which he belonged, and that many of the grossest of those -corruptions had been made the foundation of dogmas even more dangerous -than themselves, yet, not having met with any of the followers of -Wickliffe, he had never heard the heresies, the idolatries, or the -usurpations of the Roman church fully exposed--nor indeed -attacked--till passing through Bohemia, in his return from the East, -he had met with some of the disciples of Huss at a small road-side -inn. The conversation had been free; for, far from large towns, the -doctrines which the council of Constance could not suppress were more -boldly spoken; and Chartley heard words which shook his faith in the -infallibility of Rome, and made him, determine to inquire and judge -for himself at an after period. He had not yet inquired, however; and, -even while he gave way to the impulses of the heart, he felt doubtful, -fearful of his own conduct. Had such not been the case, the passion in -his breast would have found open and undisguised utterance. Dangers -and difficulties he would have set at nought; impediments he would -have overleaped, with the knowledge that he was loved in return. But -now he doubted, as I have said, hesitated, suffered his love to be -seen, rather than declared it openly.</p> - -<p class="normal">The abbess sat embroidering at one end of the hall, while Iola and -Chartley stood together in the oriel window at the other; and Sir -William Arden, with the right knee thrown across the left, and his -head bent, pored over the miniatures in a richly illuminated -manuscript of Monstrelet, lifting his eyes from time to time, with a -thoughtful look, towards Chartley and Iola, and thinking, if the truth -must be told, that Constance was somewhat long absent. The glow of the -evening sun, poured full through the window at which the lovers were -standing, concentrated upon them by the stone work; and, both so -beautiful and full of grace, they looked in that haze of golden beams -like the old pictures of saints in glory. Just at that moment -Constance entered the hall with a light step, and a more cheerful look -than usual. She too had been reading; and she had found what she -sought, truth--truth, which came home to her own heart, and dispelled -every doubt and shadow within it. She looked up at the window, as she -crossed the hall, and said, in a low sweet voice:</p> - -<p class="normal">"What a fair evening! The sunset must look beautiful from the -ramparts."</p> - -<p class="normal">"So it must!" exclaimed Iola. "Let us go out and enjoy it. Will you -come, dear lady mother?" she added, raising her voice to reach the ear -of the abbess.</p> - -<p class="normal">"No, dear child, no," replied the elder lady, "I must finish this -cat's head. I never saw such a troublesome puss in my life;" and she -laughed merrily. "I cannot get her whiskers in, all I can do. When I -make them black, they look like a spot of ink, and when I make them -white, they look like a drop of cream. But go, my children, go. The -evening is beautiful; and sunsets and sunrises, and such sort of -things, do young people good. Forget not to tell your beads, Iola, as -he goes down; for no one can ever tell what his rising may look upon."</p> - -<p class="normal">Without any other covering of the head than that which they wore in -the house, the two girls went forth with Chartley, Sir William -starting up and following. It need not be asked how the party divided -itself. Ah, it is a pleasant number, four. It does not admit of much -variety; but, on most occasions, it is perfect in itself. Happy Iola, -how gaily she walked on by Chartley's side, round those same walls -which she had trod some evenings before, with a pale cheek and anxious -eye, and a heart well nigh despairing. Now all the scene was bright -and beautiful, on the one side spreading out the purple glow of -evening, on the other, the pale primrose of the west growing fainter -at the approach of night, and the golden hills all round crowning -themselves with the beams of the departing sun. As if to leave them -free room to say all that might be sweet, yet dangerous, to say, Sir -William Arden and Constance lingered a good way behind, paused often, -once or twice sat down, till Iola and Chartley, circling all round the -walls, came back to them again.</p> - -<p class="normal">What was Sir William Arden doing? I verily believe he was making love -in his own peculiar way; for, every now and then, in the midst of -smiles at some odd frank speech, a faint blush fluttered over -Constance's fair cheek, as if she felt that, in his warmer words, -there was an allusion to herself.</p> - -<p class="normal">Chartley and Iola passed them by, each party so full of their own -thoughts as not to notice the other.</p> - -<p class="normal">"It was indeed," said Chartley, "a night ever to be remembered--at -least by me--a night full of sensations new, and deep, and thrilling; -sensations known but once in a whole lifetime. Nor do I think that you -will ever forget it. Did I not tell you, that it was one of those -points of time which raise their heads above the waste of the past, -and are seen like a mountain peak, till man is at the end of his -journey?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"It cannot be forgot, indeed," replied Iola, and cast her eyes down -thoughtfully.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Strange words you spoke that night," continued Chartley; "words that -to me were then like the mysterious figures upon Egyptian stones, of -which I could interpret nothing. Now, alas, I have got the key."</p> - -<p class="normal">"What words?" demanded Iola. "What words of mine can even from memory -produce so sad a tone?" and she looked up in his face, with the -feeling of her heart but too plainly written in her eyes.</p> - -<p class="normal">"You spoke," replied Chartley, "words that have rung in my ear ever -since, 'Happy are those who have no ties to bind them!' I now knew of -what ties you spoke--" and he added, almost vehemently, "Oh that I -could rend them, and scatter them to the winds."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Chartley!" said Iola, pausing for an instant, and then immediately -resuming her walk.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Forgive me!" said Chartley. "I know I am wrong. I know it is very -wrong, even to feel what I feel, and that to speak it is worse. -Forgive me."</p> - -<p class="normal">"There is nothing to forgive," replied Iola, in a very low tone. "You -have done no wrong, that I know of."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Oh yes, I have," answered Chartley. "I have agitated and alarmed you -by my rash words. You tremble, even now."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Every wind will move a willow," answered Iola. "If I tremble, -Chartley, it is not from what you think; but, I say you have done no -wrong, and I mean it."</p> - -<p class="normal">"What, not to acknowledge love to the wife of another?" said Chartley.</p> - -<p class="normal">"I, I, his wife!" said Iola, with a start. "No, no, I am not, and -never will be. The sin were, if I vowed to love where I cannot love, -if I promised what cannot be performed;" and, casting her eyes to the -ground again, she clasped her hands together, and walked on by his -side in silence.</p> - -<p class="normal">"What then," said Chartley, after a moment's thought, "has not the -church's sanction of your contract been pronounced?"</p> - -<p class="normal">She remained silent for about a minute, ere she answered; and the many -changes which passed over her beautiful countenance, during that short -space, are impossible to describe. Then she looked up again, with one -of those bright and glorious looks, in which a happy spirit seems to -speak out, triumphing over dark thoughts or memories; but still there -were drops in her eyes.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Hear what there exists," she said. "I had little knowledge of it -myself till I came here; but this, I now learn, is all. There is a -cold parchment, contracting in marriage one Iola St. Leger to one -Arnold Lord Fulmer. To it are signed the names of Calverly, Talbot, -Bouchier, Savage, and other peers and gentlemen, having some -guardianship over, or interest in, those two persons mentioned. But, -above all," she added, with a faint smile and a rueful shake of the -head, "are two crosses, somewhat crooked, shaken, and unseemly; for, -in truth, I think our little hands must have been guided in the making -of them, which, as at the side it is testified in clerkly hand, are -the signatures of Arnold Lord Fulmer and Iola St. Leger. This is all, -Lord Chartley."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Then you are mine," said Chartley, in a low, deep, eager tone; "then -you are mine. Tell me not of obstacles, think me not over bold. Iola -would never have uttered what she has, had her heart not been ready to -say, Yea; and as for obstacles, I will devour them like a flame."</p> - -<p class="normal">Iola now trembled more than before.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Hush, hush!" she said, "Do not speak so vehemently; you frighten me, -Chartley. I must beseech you to do nothing rashly. Say nothing to any -one at present--nay, not a word. I must entreat, I must beg--and" -resuming in a degree her gay tone, she added: "more, I must command, -that you interfere not in the least. You are my servant, are you not? -Well then, servant, I order you to take no part in this whatever. Fear -nothing, Chartley. Light as I seem, gay, as I am, gentle as I would -fain be to all, I can be as firm as iron, where I am sure I have right -on my side, as I am sure here. I cannot love him. I will not marry -him; but the refusal must come from my own lips, and not be spoken by -another."</p> - -<p class="normal">"But they may find means to overbear your will," said Chartley, -"unless you have some support--ay, and that support must be a strong -arm, a stout heart, and powerful means."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Should the time ever come when I need it," said Iola, "you shall -have instant notice."</p> - -<p class="normal">"But they may force you into a convent," said Chartley. "That, I -believe, is within their power to do. At least, I have heard of -several instances where it has been done."</p> - -<p class="normal">"They would find it difficult with me," replied Iola. "They might -force me into a prison, it is true; but vows against my conscience I -will never take, to mortal man or to the altar. One thing, perhaps, -they can do; for of that I know little. They may take from me these -broad lands, and the goodly heritage which my father possessed and -forfeited. I am reputed to be their heiress; but doubtless my uncle -can take them from me, if I obstinately oppose his will."</p> - -<p class="normal">"That is not worth a thought," answered Chartley. "Wealth has -undoubtedly its value, my Iola; but it is not happiness, and only a -small ingredient therein. Let us speak of things of more importance. I -cannot but fear you calculate too much upon your strength, your -courage, and your power of resistance. But leave the matter to me, and -I will contrive to cut the gordian knot of all difficulties, in a very -short space of time. There is a plan before my eyes, even now, which -could hardly fail us."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Would you cut that knot, like the Macedonian, with your sword?" said -Iola, gazing at him with a meaning look. "No, Chantey, that must not -be. If you love me as you say, you will not attempt it. Nay, more, you -will trust to me, and to the promise which I make, to call upon you at -once, in the moment of need, whenever that moment comes."</p> - -<p class="normal">"But I may be absent. You may have no means," replied Chartley.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Ah, I have means and messengers that you know not at," answered Iola -gaily, "fairies that will fly like swallows with my messages, elves of -the green wood that will track you for me through their darkest -bowers. Nay, I am serious, Chartley. What would you think if I were to -tell you that even in the midnight, with doors all bolted, barred, and -locked, the keys lying by the heavy porter's head, and all the warders -snoring in their beds, I can pass forth from this castle, and sport -upon the lawns and slopes around, as if it had no walls--nay, that I -have done it."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Then you are a fairy yourself," answered Chartley, "as I have been -half inclined to think ere now. But I have your promise; your solemn -promise, that nothing shall ever force you, to this detested marriage, -and that you will send to me, or give me notice, the moment that my -aid is needful--and not delay too long."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I will," she answered, emphatically. "Methinks you would not find it -difficult to guard me once more through the green forest, as you did -one night we both remember; and should it be needful, Chartley, so to -do, I will then trust as implicitly to your honour as I did before; -for Iola will be wholly at your mercy. But I must have promise for -promise, and vow for vow. You must assure me that, whatever you see, -whatever you hear, you will remain quiescent, and leave the whole -decision to myself."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Then if that youth returns," answered Chartley, "I must shut myself -up in my dull tower, and make myself a prisoner indeed."</p> - -<p class="normal">Iola smiled, saying in a low tone--</p> - -<p class="normal">"It might perhaps be better--if Chartley cannot rule Chartley. But -happily there is no chance of my being pressed on this sad subjects -for weeks or months to come, as I learn from Constance that the king -has refused to give an immediate consent; for which I could almost -say, Heaven bless him."</p> - -<p class="normal">"That is happy news indeed," answered Chartley; "and yet, Iola, I -could wish that if a struggle is to be made, it might be soon made; -for nothing is so painful as uncertainty."</p> - -<p class="normal">"All men are alike in that, I see," replied Iola; "we women love to -put off the evil day."</p> - -<p class="normal">"It may indeed, in this instance, be as well," answered Chartley, "for -it gives time for preparation; and that I will commence at once."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Preparation for what?" demanded Iola in some surprise.</p> - -<p class="normal">"For any thing that may occur," replied Chartley; "but for one thing -we must both be prepared, sweet Iola--for flight--ay, flight to -distant lands, love; for think not that if we venture to unite our -fate by the dearest and the holiest rite, against the consent of your -family, in defiance of their contract, and without the king's -permission, this land will be safe for us thenceforward. Richard is -well fitted to find treason in such acts; and, if he cannot part you -from your husband, to take your husband's head. My preparation -therefore must be, not only to secure a refuge in another land, but to -provide means there, to keep us from poverty or dependence. But that -will be easily accomplished. Will you regret it, Iola? Will you shrink -from it--to pass some few years with Chartley on a foreign shore, and -leave this fair land and all the memories of home behind you?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"No, oh no!" she answered; "I will neither shrink nor regret. My home -will ever be with my heart--" she paused, and the crimson spread gently -over her cheek, as she felt how much her words implied. Her eyes too, -sunk under the warm, and tender, and grateful gaze which was bent upon -her; but the next moment she asked, in her low sweet tones--"Will you -never regret, Chartley? Will you never think that you have paid for -Iola's hand too dear a price, when memory turns back to your native -land, high station, wealth, ambition, all sacrificed for her?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Never," answered Chartley; "were it to cost me all, and leave us but -a cabin and bare food, I would not hesitate now, or regret hereafter. -I do but change dross for a jewel of inestimable price, and I will -value it ever as I do now."</p> - -<p class="normal">They were both silent for several minutes; and then, as they turned -the north western angle of the walls, they saw the sun setting in the -splendour of scattered clouds, and Constance and Sir William Anton -advancing towards them. Iola perceived that her cousin's step wanted -its quiet steadiness; and when her eye fixed on her face, a blush rose -in Constance's cheek.</p> - -<p class="normal">"There is the sun setting and your uncle rising, lady," said Sir -William Arden, in a gay voice, pointing with his hand in the direction -of the road across the park, upon which several horsemen might be seen -advancing--"we shall soon have the light of his countenance, though -the star goes down."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Let us go in," said Iola, in a hurried tone; "perhaps we have already -staid out too long; but the evening has been so beautiful."</p> - -<p class="normal">"And the conversation so sweet," said Arden, almost in a whisper to -Constance; "so should close the phrase both with Chartley and with me, -if I had aught of the court in my nature. I will study, dear lady--I -will study, and rub off the rust which has gathered between my armour -and my skin."</p> - -<p class="normal">"No--Be ever, what you are," answered Constance.</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h3>CHAPTER XXXIV.</h3> -<br> - -<p class="normal">Another day elapsed, and another. The sunshine mingled with the shade; -as is ever the case in human life; but there were no dark clouds. -Sometimes, for many hours, Chartley and Iola could obtain not a single -moment for private intercourse. At others, a whole sweet hour was won -from the great adversary of love, the world. Lord Calverly perceived -not, or did not seem to perceive, that anything was changed; and the -lady abbess set off to rejoin her nuns, as ignorant of the secrets of -Iola's heart as she had come. Thus wore away the second day, till -towards nightfall, when the whole party of the castle returned from -their evening ride, and entered the great court. The porter did not -venture to stop his lord's horse, as he passed the archway; but he -followed him into the court, with a quick step, saying aloud--</p> - -<p class="normal">"Lord Fulmer is returned, my lord, and wishes to speak with your -lordship instantly. He is in the little hall."</p> - -<p class="normal">The old nobleman dismounted from his horse, and, leaving Iola and -Constance to the care of the rest, hurried up the manifold steps which -led to the door.</p> - -<p class="normal">Chartley's cheek flushed, as he heard the words the porter spoke; but, -as he stood by Iola's side, assisting her to dismount, she said in a -low but earnest tone--</p> - -<p class="normal">"Chartley, to your tower, till you can command yourself--I beseech--I -entreat you--if you love me."</p> - -<p class="normal">Chartley bowed his head in sign of acquiescence; and, not considering -that Lord Fulmer could not know all that had passed between Iola and -himself, since his departure, he consoled himself with the thought, -"If this lord keeps the spirit which he has hitherto displayed, he -will soon seek me in my chamber."</p> - -<p class="normal">Thus thinking, he turned away to the apartments assigned to him, while -Iola, Constance, and Sir William Arden entered the main body of the -building. The latter, however, seeing Iola take her cousin's arm, and -whisper something in her ear, tarried in the great hall, while the two -fair girls ascended the stairs.</p> - -<p class="normal">The words of Iola to her cousin were--"Come with me, Constance. -Something tells me in my heart that the hour of trial is coming. Let -me meet it at once, before my spirit sinks with anticipation. But I -must have something to lean on, dear cousin. You be my support."</p> - -<p class="normal">They walked on, till they reached the door of the little hall; and it -was not climbing the steps of the stairs, though they were many, that -made Iola's breath come short and quick. It was the beating of the -anxious heart. She opened the door at once, however, and went in. Her -uncle and Lord Fulmer were standing together at some distance on the -right of the door in earnest conversation; and, as soon as Iola and -her cousin entered, Lord Calverly retreated towards the oriel window, -saying to his companion--</p> - -<p class="normal">"Come hither, come hither."</p> - -<p class="normal">But Iola would not give up the ground; and, though she walked to the -other end of the hall, she remained in the room. She turned an anxious -and eager gaze towards her uncle and Lord Fulmer, however, and -whispered to Constance--"I knew it--see how eagerly they speak."</p> - -<p class="normal">They spoke so long that the suspense was very painful; but, at length, -they turned, as if to come towards the two ladies, and Lord Fulmer -said aloud--</p> - -<p class="normal">"Upon my honour and my faith, not a word shall be uttered without your -permission;" and then they advanced with a quick step, Lord Calverly -only saying in reply--</p> - -<p class="normal">"So be it then."</p> - -<p class="normal">Iola gazed at them in the dim light, for the sun was by this time -down; and her hand clasped tight upon her cousin's arm--</p> - -<p class="normal">"Now, God help me," she murmured.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Iola, my dear niece," said Lord Calverly, approaching, "I have a -communication to make to you, which will take you somewhat by -surprise; but you have received an education which will make you -always submit to duty, I am sure, unmurmuring. This noble lord here -has just informed me of circumstances which render it absolutely -necessary that we should pass over all preliminaries, and that you -should give him your hand immediately, according to the contract -entered into long ago."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Iola gasped, and tried to answer, but her voice failed her; and Lord -Calverly went on to say--</p> - -<p class="normal">"It is somewhat sudden in verity and truth; but he must depart for -Dorset by daybreak to-morrow, and therefore the marriage ceremony must -be performed to-night. The priest will be ready in the chapel at ten, -and--"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Impossible!" said Iola, in a firm and almost indignant tone; for this -was worse than she had expected, and it roused her anger. "What, two -hours' notice to prepare for the most important step of all a woman's -life And does this noble lord think to conciliate affection, or to win -esteem, by such indecent haste, by such a rude insult to all the -feelings of my heart?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"What feelings?" demanded Lord Calverly, sharply. "I see, my lord, it -is as you thought. Hark you, lady, I am not a man to be trifled with. -I have ruled my own household well and steadily; and, please God, I -will rule you too. No one has ever been suffered to disobey me; and -you shall not be the first. Go and prepare. What, ho, without there?" -he continued, turning to the door; and a servant running up, he -said--"Bring lights here. Where is Lord Chartley?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Gone to his apartments, noble lord," replied the man.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Set a guard at his door," said Lord Calverly. "Let his servants pass -in and out, but not himself."</p> - -<p class="normal">Then turning again to Iola, with an angry tone, he said--</p> - -<p class="normal">"Marry! The feelings of your heart! We begin to understand them, -niece. What have the feelings of your heart to do with a contract of -marriage already signed and sealed?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Everything," replied Iola; "in as far as upon them depends whether I -will or will not fulfil a contract entered into without my consent, -and which therefore cannot be binding on me."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Idle nonsense," cried Lord Calverly; "you know little of the law of -the land, my learned gentlewoman. God's my life! We shall soon have -chits out of a nunnery-school setting up for chief justices. The -contract was entered into by your guardians on your behalf, and is -binding upon you by law."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Then let him appeal to the law to enforce it," said Iola; "for by my -act and my will, it shall never be fulfilled."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Nay, nay, my dear uncle," said Constance, "you are too harsh with -her. Think what a surprise this must be, when you yourself told me -that the king had not yet given his consent to the marriage, and that -it must be put off for a month or two, till he and the queen could be -present. Of course, she marvels at this sudden change; for I told her -exactly what you told me."</p> - -<p class="normal">"More fool you, wench," answered her uncle, who was irritated beyond -measure, at the first opposition he had ever met with, from one whom -he conceived to be dependent on himself. "Circumstances have changed; -and now we must pass over royal consents, and all such trifling -matters. She is a disobedient hussy, and shall bow her pride to my -will this very night, or my name is not Calverly. Away to your -chamber, madam, and prepare as fast as possible. You have two hours to -think. So make your mind up, as best you may, to yield obedience, or -you will find I will force you."</p> - -<p class="normal">Lord Fulmer had stood during this conversation, which was so rapid as -hardly to admit of interruption, in no very enviable state of mind, -and with looks by no means calm or dignified. He had thought himself -firmer and sterner than he really was, and now he hesitated and -regretted.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Stay, stay, my lord," he said. "Iola, let me beseech you--dear lady, -let me plead."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Hush, my lord," answered Iola, giving him a cold and shuddering look. -"Your cause has been put upon its proper footing, force. My noble -uncle, prompted by you, speaks the first feelings of your heart. No -after thought can now avail. You and he may drag me to the altar. You -and he may cause a vain ceremony to be performed, turn a deaf ear to -my rejection of the vows tendered me, and commit what violence you -will. But you cannot make me your wife; for that depends upon myself; -and the words which would constitute me such shall never be uttered by -these lips in favour of a man whom I never loved, and whom I now -scorn."</p> - -<p class="normal">"This is all vain," exclaimed Lord Calverly, his rage only increasing. -"Argue not with her, my lord; she will learn her duty when she is your -wife. This very night--ay, as the clock strikes ten--the ceremony -shall be performed in the chapel of the castle, whether she will or -not; and, once that sacrament received, the union is indissoluble. My -chaplain will administer it. He will have no scruples to obey my -commands, when I show him the contract. Away to your chamber, -disobedient wench, and be ready to perform what you cannot refuse."</p> - -<p class="normal">With a slow step, and still leaning on her cousin's arm, Iola quitted -the hall, mounted a few steps near the hall door, passed through the -long corridor which ran round that side of the castle, and then turned -into the passage, leading to her own chamber. Constance marvelled that -she trembled not; but Iola's step was firm and light, though somewhat -slow. She opened the door of the ante-room, and looked in; but there -was no one there, and it was dark and vacant.</p> - -<p class="normal">"What will you do, dear Iola? How can I help you?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"No way, dear Constance," replied her cousin, "but by giving me an -hour for calm thought. Keep my girl, Susan, way from me. Tell her, I -want no lights for an hour, and only wish to think."</p> - -<p class="normal">"But what will you do?" asked Constance.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Not marry him," replied Iola; "no, not if he had an emperor's crown -to lay at my feet. Does he think this the way to win a woman's -heart?--Leave me, leave me, dear Constance! Come again in an hour. By -that time my resolution will be taken--" and as Constance turned sadly -away and closed the door, Iola added, in a low voice to herself, "and -executed."</p> - -<p class="normal">Slowly and thoughtfully Constance trod her way back towards the lesser -hall, pausing more than once, as if to consider some plan. When she -entered, the sconces were lighted, and her uncle and Lord Fulmer were -standing under one of them at some distance, still talking loud and -eagerly.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Nonsense, nonsense," cried Lord Calverly. "This is now my business. -She will disobey my commands, will she? She shall be taught -better--" Then, seeing Constance, he raised his voice, as if he had not -been speaking loud enough before, exclaiming, "Where have you left -that little rebel, Constance?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"In her chamber, my lord," replied Constance, in a sad tone.</p> - -<p class="normal">"'Twere better you stayed for her," said her uncle.</p> - -<p class="normal">"She sent me away, my lord," replied Constance, "refusing all -consolation."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Well, well, let her sulk," answered the old nobleman. "We care not -for sullenness, so we have obedience. The storm will work itself -clear, my lord, never fear;" and he resumed his conversation with -Fulmer.</p> - -<p class="normal">In the mean time, Constance glided out of the other door, and sought a -small room where the women servants of the castle were accustomed to -work in the evening. She found her own maid there, but not Iola's -girl, Susan; and, sending the former, to give her cousin's message, -Constance proceeded through the lower passages of the house, and under -the lesser hall, to the great hall below. It was now fully lighted; -but she found Sir William Arden still there walking up and down with a -slow step, and his arms crossed upon his chest.</p> - -<p class="normal">"I am very glad I have found you," said Constance, approaching him, -with an eager and confiding look. "I have something to tell you."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I thought so, dear lady," replied the knight. "I thought so, as soon -as I heard of this young lord's return; and so I waited here, to see -if I could help. What is it? Two or three men came in, a few minutes -ago, and took down some partizans from the wall. What may that mean?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"That they have set a guard at Lord Chartley's door," answered -Constance; "and that my uncle vows he will compel Iola to give her -hand to Lord Fulmer at ten tonight."</p> - -<p class="normal">"A guard at Chartley's door," exclaimed Arden. "Then something must be -done indeed. We must consult, dear lady; but let us seek some more -private place than this. You are not afraid to go with me?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Oh no," answered Constance, giving him her hand; "you persuaded me to -tell you so the other day. But come into the passage behind the hall. -Few pass that way, I believe; and, we can speak freely there."</p> - -<p class="normal">Thus saying, she led him to the farther end of the wide vaulted -chamber, and thence, through a low-browed door, into a small narrow -passage, where a single lamp was twinkling. They both paused near the -doors and Constance then said, "What is to be done? You told me you -would help me on any occasion if you could. Now is the moment, my -noble friend."</p> - -<p class="normal">"And so I will," answered Arden, frankly; "ay, if it should cost my -heart's blood. But let me hear the whole. I will interrogate you in -order, my sweet witness. You say they have stationed a guard at -Chartley's door, and declare they will force Iola to marry this moody -boy at ten to-night. They must have discovered all that we have -fancied between her and Chartley. Is it not so?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"I can reach no other conclusion," answered Constance.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Then, where is your fair cousin?" asked Arden.</p> - -<p class="normal">"In her own chamber," implied Constance; "whence my uncle threatens to -drag her down at the hour named, and force her to marry a man whom she -abhors."</p> - -<p class="normal">"It has been done before now," said Arden, setting his teeth close. -"What does your cousin propose to do?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"I know not," answered Constance. "She sent me away that she might -think alone. She will refuse to the last, of that I am sure; and she -will have strength to do it firmly too; for her courage is far greater -than I ever dreamt it would be."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Think you the chaplain will perform the ceremony if she does refuse?" -asked Arden, in a meditative tone.</p> - -<p class="normal">"I fear so," answered Constance. "He is a mere creature of my uncle's, -and, as you have seen, fat, sleek, and pliable, considering venison, -and capon, and Gascon wine, much more than the service of the altar, -or the conscience of his penitents."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Then we must contrive to give your cousin some support in her -resistance," said Arden, gravely. "It must be done; for she shall not -be sacrificed, if I were to cleave Lord Fulmer to the chine with my -own hand. But, upon my life, it is dangerous; for, if the king has -given his consent, and we stop it with the strong hand, we shall have -the wild boar upon us, and he is a savage beast."</p> - -<p class="normal">"But his consent is not given," exclaimed Constance, eagerly. "That my -uncle admitted, and said they would do without. From some words, too, -I gathered that the marriage is to be concealed when it has taken -place."</p> - -<p class="normal">"So, so, then our course is clear enough," answered Arden. "We will -take the king's part! Otherwise, dear Constance, I must have asked you -to make up a little packet of plain clothes, and jump up <i>en croupe</i> -behind your knight, and away with him to Britanny, as ladies did in -days of old, if tales of knight errantry are true. Upon my life it -would be no bad plan."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Nay, nay," said Constance, "speak seriously, Arden; for my heart is -very full of poor Iola just now."</p> - -<p class="normal">"But one little corner left for me," answered Arden; and then more -seriously he added, "Well, well, I will stop this marriage. Fear not; -we must begin soon, however; for it will not do to have strife in the -chapel."</p> - -<p class="normal">"There will not be bloodshed?" said Constance, with a look of terror.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Oh no, I trust not," replied Arden. "That which requires secrecy is -soon given up, when men find it must be made public. The king's name -will, I doubt not, be sufficient; but we must take means to prevent -anything like resistance being offered. How many men are there in the -castle, do you know?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"There were thirty-five," answered Constance, "so my maid told me; but -three of those who came from the abbey with us, and ten of my uncle's -men, went well armed to guard my aunt back, and have not yet returned. -Some, too, are cooks and kitchen men."</p> - -<p class="normal">"We are ten," said Arden, musing. "That is quite enough; but yet we -must have recourse to stratagem, in order to make sure that no rash -opposition brings on violence. Leave it to me, dear Constance, leave -it to me. You go to your own little chamber, say your prayers, and, -when your hour is expired, go to your pretty cousin, and tell her, old -William Arden says that they shall not marry her to any one against -her will. So let her keep a good heart, be firm, and fear not."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Had I not better go and tell her now," said Constance, eager to -relieve her cousin's anxiety.</p> - -<p class="normal">"What, little soldier, not obey your general's orders," exclaimed -Arden, laughing. "No, no, we can do nothing yet, till the time comes -near; for I suppose you would not have me tell your uncle that it was -from you my information came. I must see signs of a wedding, before I -proceed to stop it. But be content; all shall be prepared; and you be -secret, not to let any burst of joy betray that we have concerted -measures of deliverance. Now, farewell, dear Constance. Both you and -Iola keep quiet above, till all the hurly burly's done; for we shall -have hard words going, if nothing harder still, which God forfend."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Oh, I beseech you, let there be no violence!" said Constance, -imploringly.</p> - -<p class="normal">"No, no, there shall be none," replied Arden. "If they assail not us, -we will not assail them. But still women are better out of the way," -he added, kissing her hand; "for they scream, you know, Constance, and -that makes a noise."</p> - -<p class="normal">With a faint smile Constance left him; and turning to the hall he -recommenced his walk, till, at length, Lord Calverly came down, -pausing suddenly, when he saw his guest there. The moment after he -called for a servant, however, and gave him some orders in a low -voice, while Arden turned at the other end of the hall, and in his -perambulations approached, the place where he stood.</p> - -<p class="normal">"It has been a lovely day, and promises as fine a night, my lord," -said the knight, in the tone of ordinary conversation. "Methinks I -will go and take a walk upon the battlements, a cup of wine, and then -to bed; for I was stirring early to-day."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Would I could be companion of your walk," replied Lord Calverly, with -courteous hypocrisy. "Nothing is pleasanter than a warm moonlight -night of summer; but I have dull business to be attended to; and -business, you know, Sir William, must supersede pleasure."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Quite just, my lord, and wise," replied Arden, "as indeed is always -what your lordship says. I will away, however, giving you good night. -May success attend all honourable business, and then slumber bring -repose." Thus saying, he turned and left the hall; and the old -nobleman called loudly by name for some of his attendants.</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h3>CHAPTER XXXV.</h3> -<br> - -<p class="normal">Now the reader must remember that a castle of those days, though -fallen from the "high estate" of feudal garrison and constant -preparation, was a very different place from a modern house, whether -in town or country. Grosvenor Square will give no idea of it; and no -country mansion, not even with park wall, and lodge, and iron gates, -will assist comprehension in the least. Sir William Arden had to -traverse a considerable number of round rubble stones, before he found -himself standing under the arch by the porter's dwelling.</p> - -<p class="normal">The man had just given admission or exit to some one; for he was -standing at the wicket with the keys in his hand, gazing forth to the -westward, although all trace of the sun's setting had disappeared.</p> - -<p class="normal">Arden cast his eyes towards the south, in which direction Chartley's -tower was situated; but it was not visible from the gate; and, -satisfied on that point, the good knight turned to the porter, saying, -without any preliminary explanation, to point out the person of whom -he was about to speak,</p> - -<p class="normal">"He has gone to the chaplain's house under the hill, has he not?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Yes, honourable sir," replied the porter. "But, by my faith, my lord -perhaps reckons without his host; for the good priest calculates upon -no marriages, baptisms, or burials, to-night; and he is just the man -to forget that such a case may happen, and lay in a share of ale or -Bordeaux, too large to let any other thoughts enter."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Oh, he will be sober enough to work matrimony, though he must not -undertake it himself," answered Arden. "Ha, ha, ha!"</p> - -<p class="normal">The porter laughed too, right joyously, saying, "Jack stopped a minute -to tell me his errand; and I could not help laughing, to think how -suddenly the matter had come on at last."</p> - -<p class="normal">And, as he spoke, he hung the enormous bunch of heavy keys up by the -side of the door, addressing to them the words, "Ay, you are rusty -enough to be spared more labour. Nobody will try to get into the -castle now-a-days."</p> - -<p class="normal">"It would be a hard morsel," answered Arden. "But who are those I saw -riding up the hill at so much speed?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Heaven knows," replied the porter. "There were only two of them; and -we shall soon see what they want if they come here. It does those -knaves good to make them wait a little. So, by your leave, worshipful -sir, I will go and finish my supper."</p> - -<p class="normal">Sir William Arden still stood near the gate; and a minute or two after -a horn without sounded; and the porter, creeping out of his den once -more, came forward to demand, through the little iron grate, who it -was that asked admission.</p> - -<p class="normal">"We must see my Lord Chartley immediately," replied the man. "It is on -business of great importance."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Who are you, and what are you?" demanded the porter; "and who is that -old woman in white on horseback? We don't admit any witches here."</p> - -<p class="normal">These words were addressed to a man bearing the appearance of an -ordinary servant, with a badge upon his arm; but the janitor, as he -spoke the last words, pointed with his hand to the figure of good Ibn -Ayoub, who sat his horse like a statue, while all this was going on, -wrapped up in his white shroud-like garments, so that little or -nothing of face or person was to be seen.</p> - -<p class="normal">"I am the lord's slave," said the voice of the Arab, from under the -coif-like folds which shrouded his head; "and this is my comrade--what -you call a servant in this land of Giaours. Open, and let us through."</p> - -<p class="normal">"The orders were to admit his servants," said the porter, musing, and -turning at the same time partly towards Sir William Arden, as if -seeking his counsel.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Oh, let them in, let them in," said the knight. "Of course, he must -have his servants about him. There can be no wrong in that."</p> - -<p class="normal">The man immediately undid the bolts and bars, giving admission to the -two servants, who bowed low when they saw their master's kinsman under -the archway; and Arden, turning with them, walked by their side, -directing them to the stables.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Keep your news safe, whatever it is," he said in a low voice to Ibn -Ayoub, "or you may do mischief. But stay, I will wait for you, till -you come out of the stables."</p> - -<p class="normal">While the two men were taking in their horses, Sir William Arden -examined accurately the low range of building used as the ecury, or -cury, as it was sometimes called at Chidlow. It was very extensive, -though low, and situated under the wall for protection; but each of -the windows, small and high up as they were, were secured by strong -iron bars; and there was no means of entrance or exit, but by the -large door in the centre, and two smaller ones at the extreme ends, -but on the same face.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Come this way, Ibn Ayoub," said the knight, when the Arab came forth. -"I will show you the way to your lord's lodging. Go up to him at once, -and beg him to come down to my chamber below, to speak with me on some -business of importance. Say, if he meets with obstruction by the way, -not to resist, but to return quietly, and I will come to him. You will -have to pass three men with partizans on the stairs, who are keeping -watch upon the good lord; and they may perchance refuse to let him go -forth."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Then will I put my knife into them," said Ibn Ayoub.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Softly, softly, wild son of Ismael. Do no such thing, but quietly -mark all that happens; and then, when your lord is in his room again, -come down to me; but tell him he will see me soon." Such were the good -knight's last injunctions to the Arab, who then mounted the stairs of -the tower: and immediately after, some words in a sharp tone were -spoken above. Sir William Arden listened, and then entered his own -apartments, which, as I have elsewhere mentioned, were on the lower -story. Two of his servants were in waiting in his ante-room, engaged -in the very ancient game of mutton bones. A word from their master -however soon sent one of them away, and when he returned, at the end -of five minutes, he brought with him four of Chartley's men. Almost at -the same moment, Ibn Ayoub returned, saying, with rolling eyes,</p> - -<p class="normal">"They will not let him pass."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Never mind, my friend," replied Arden; "remain here with these good -men till my return; and then, be all ready with what weapons you -have."</p> - -<p class="normal">The Arab smiled, well pleased with the name of weapons, and bared his -sinewy arm up to the elbow. At the end of about five minutes, the -knight returned, and, in a calm and easy tone, ordered three of -Chartley's servants to go up to their lord, after which he turned to -the rest, saying, "now, good fellows, I wish you to understand clearly -what I desire to have done; and I command you in nothing to exceed the -orders you receive. There are three men on the stairs, keeping guard -upon my cousin and friend, Lord Chartley. This is contrary to the -orders of the king, and contrary to an express agreement between Lord -Chartley and Lord Calverly. I therefore intend to take those three -men, and lock them up in the room above, which looks upon the walls, -and to keep them there as long as I think proper. There must be no -bloodshed, no violence, but what is necessary to force them into that -room. You mark me, Ibn Ayoub. The great object is to avoid all noise, -which may attract others to the spot. I am not to be disobeyed in -anything, remember. Now, some one jump upon that table, and strike the -roof twice with his sword."</p> - -<p class="normal">One of the men sprang up, and obeyed the order; and then, saying -"Follow!" Arden went out to the foot of the stairs. He ascended a few -steps leisurely, and till sound of voices was heard above.</p> - -<p class="normal">"You cannot pass, my lord," said some one; "our orders are strict."</p> - -<p class="normal">"My orders to you are, that you get out of the way," said Chartley; -"if not take the consequences. In one word, will you move?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"My lord, it is impossible; you cannot pass," replied the voice, in a -louder and sterner tone; and at the same moment Arden ran rapidly up -the steps, followed by his companions, saying, "keep back, Ibn Ayoub. -Remember, no violence."</p> - -<p class="normal">On reaching the little square piece of level flooring, commonly called -the landing-place, at Chartley's door, he found three of Lord -Calverly's servants with partizans in their hands, in the act of -resisting the progress of the young nobleman and his two servants, who -seemed determined to make their way out. Now, of all weapons on earth, -the most unwieldy and the least fitted for use in a narrow space was -the ancient partizan. It might have been employed to advantage, -indeed, in preventing Arden from mounting a stairs. But the servants -were eagerly occupied with Lord Chartley, who was on the same level -with themselves, where they had no room to shorten their weapons, so -as to bring the spear points to bear against his breast. One of them -looked over his shoulder, indeed, at the sound of feet rushing up, but -had they turned to oppose the ascent of Sir William Arden and his -party, they exposed themselves at once to attack from Chartley and his -two servants. Thus, between Scylla and Charybdis, they were -overpowered in a moment, and their weapons taken from them.</p> - -<p class="normal">One of them then thought fit to say, that they had no intention of -offending, and that Lord Chartley might pass. But in profound silence -they were hurried into a small room, the windows of which looked -towards the walls, and not to the court, where the people of the -castle were likely to pass. There the door was locked and barred upon -them without any explanation; and Chartley and his friend looked at -each other and laughed.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Now if you will take my advice," said Sir William, addressing his -cousin, "you will stay quietly here and not meddle any more. We have -got three of them safe; we must have five or six more; and then we -shall be in force enough to deal with the rest in a body."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Out on it!" exclaimed Chartley. "What, shall I stay here like a -singing bird in a cage, while you are busily doing my work for me?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Hear me, hear me, Chartley," said Sir William, "and don't be a fool," -and, drawing him away from the men, he said in a low voice, "remember -the king may have to deal with this at some time. Now, for me it is -all very well; for I act in the king's name, to stop a marriage to -which he has not given his consent. But with you the case is very -different, being a prisoner in ward."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Preach to whom you will, my dear Arden," exclaimed Chartley, "I was -not made for sitting still when other men are acting. But I'll be very -prudent, on my life. For many reasons, I would not embroil myself with -good Lord Calverly, if there be any help for it; and when you deal -with him, I'll be your lackey, and wait without, unless I hear I am -wanted. In the mean time, however, I must help you to put some of -these rats into the rat-trap, and now let us lose no precious moments. -Where do you begin? With the porter?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"No, no," answered Arden. "We must let the priest and the man who is -gone for him pass in first, or we shall have an alarm given. Besides, -I want to speak with the priest. So you had better take these men, and -secure all the fellows in the stables. There must be several of them -there now, tending their lord's horses after the ride; for I will -answer for it they all supped first. Remember there are three doors; -and you have nothing to do but lock each of them. Then you have our -men, as you say, in a rat-trap. I, in the mean time, will gather -together the rest of our own people, and come to you there, after I -have seen and spoken to the priest, and locked up the porter, and any -of his men that I can get."</p> - -<p class="normal">On this briefly sketched out plan they acted, Chartley and his -attendants securing, without the slightest difficulty, two of Lord -Calverly's grooms, and three of Lord Fulmer's, in the stables, without -the prisoners even knowing, at first, that they were locked in. In the -mean time, Arden, passing alone through those parts of the castle in -which the servants generally congregated, gathered together two or -three of Chartley's men, who had not previously been summoned, sent -one of them to call the rest quietly out into the court, and then -proceeded towards the porter's lodging, followed at a little distance -by two of the men. In crossing the court towards the gateway, he found -that he was just in time; for the priest had hastened with reverent -diligence to obey Lord Calverly's summons; and he was already half way -between the barbican gate and the great door of the hall. Arden -stopped him, however, saying, "Ay, good evening, father, I am glad to -see you; for I want to put to you a case of conscience."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Holy Mary, I cannot stop now, my son," cried the priest; "for I have -been summoned by my good lord in haste."</p> - -<p class="normal">"What, is he ill? Is he dying? Are you going to shrive him?" exclaimed -Arden, with affected apprehension, still standing in the priest's way.</p> - -<p class="normal">"No, no," cried the worthy man, impatiently; "'tis but to marry the -Lady Iola to the Lord Fulmer. The hour is ten; and 'tis coming fast."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Not so, not so," said Arden; "'tis not yet half past nine; and I must -have my doubt resolved before you go."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Then speak it quick," cried the priest, sharply. "You should choose -fitter times."</p> - -<p class="normal">"'Tis but this," said Arden, with a smile. "If a man see another about -to do a wrong thing, and one which may produce great danger to -himself, is it a sin to stop him, even by force?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"A sin!" exclaimed the priest, with a not very decent interjection, -common in those days, but which cannot be admitted there; "no sin at -all, but a good work. There, let me pass."</p> - -<p class="normal">Arden made way and walked on, laughing, to the gate, where he found -the porter just entering his own abode, and saying good night to one -of the servants, who had been sitting with him.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Why, you have not closed the gates for the night, have you, porter?" -said Arden, standing in the door-way of the lodge, so as to oppose the -egress of either of the two.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Yes, indeed, I have, worshipful sir," replied the man.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Why, the priest will have to go forth," said Arden.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Not he," cried the porter, with a laugh, which was echoed by the -other servant. "After he has done his function, he'll get as drunk as -a fiddler, and sleep on one of the truckle beds. I should not wonder -if I had him here knocking for accommodation; but he shall not have -it."</p> - -<p class="normal">As he spoke, he deliberately hung the keys upon a peg, just at the -side of the door.</p> - -<p class="normal">"These are large keys," said Sir William, taking them down, to the -man's surprise, and fixing in his own mind upon the one which he -supposed to belong to the door of the lodge.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Yes, they are, sir," answered the porter, somewhat gruffly. "Be -pleased to give them to me. I never suffer them out of my hands."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Back, knave! Would you snatch them from me," exclaimed Arden, -thrusting him vehemently back; and the next moment he pulled the door -to, by the large bowed handle, and applied the key to the lock. It did -not prove the right one, however; and he had some difficulty in -holding the door close, against the united efforts of the two men in -the inside, till he had found one to fit the keyhole.</p> - -<p class="normal">Chartley's men, however, had been trained to activity and vigilance, -in travelling with their lord; and the two who had followed Sir -William Arden, seeing a little bustle, and the light from the lodge -suddenly shut out, sprang forward to the knight's assistance. The door -was then soon locked; and, speaking through it, Sir William Arden -said, "Now, saucy porter, I shall keep you there for a couple of -hours, for attempting to snatch the keys from me."</p> - -<p class="normal">The man was heard remonstrating and bellowing in the inside; but, -without paying any attention, Sir William hastened back towards the -stables, leaving the keys hanging in the doorway of the porter's -tower. In the stable court, as it was called, he found Chartley -himself, with eight companions; and a brief consultation ensued as to -the next step.</p> - -<p class="normal">"How many have you got under lock and key in the stable?" demanded -Arden.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Five at least," replied Chartley.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Then there are five in your lodging and at the gate," said Arden, -"That makes ten in all. Allowing five for cooks and stragglers, we are -their superior in numbers, and a good deal their superior, I should -think, in the use of arms. Now let us go on. Hold back. Let that -fellow pass towards the kitchen."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Had we not better go by the great hall?" said Chartley, as soon as -one of the servants of the house had crossed the other side of the -court. "We can secure any men who may be there."</p> - -<p class="normal">"No, no," said Arden. "Leave all the management to me. I have promised -there shall be no bloodshed; and I do not want even to show any force, -unless it be needful. Let us go in by the back way, and up to the west -of the little hall. By that means we shall cut them off from the -chapel; and then, while you wait in the ante-room, to be ready in case -of need, I will go in and reason with the good lords."</p> - -<p class="normal">"But," said Chartley, "suppose they have gone to the chapel, already. -I see light in the window."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Then we must follow them," answered Arden. "But above all things, my -good lord, do not show yourself in the affair, if you can help it. You -may put yourself in great peril with the king, remember; whereas all -that Dickon, as I shall manage it, can say of me is, that I was -somewhat too zealous for his service. Do not come forward, at all -events, till you hear strife."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Well, well," answered Chartley; "that I may promise at least, Now on; -for there is no time to spare."</p> - -<p class="normal">Approaching quietly one of the many small doors which gave exit from -the great mass of the castle buildings into the courts around, the -whole party found before them a staircase, which, strange to say, was -broader and more easy of ascent than those communicating with either -of the two principal entrances. Treading as softly on the stone steps -as possible, they soon reached a wide landing-place, from one side of -which ran away a long corridor, passing over part of the staircase, -and guarded from it by an open screen of stonework, while on the other -side was a door; leading down by ten steps, to the entrance of the -chapel; and between the two appeared another door, opening into a -little ante-room, flanking the lesser or upper hall.</p> - -<p class="normal">Sir William Arden lifted the latch of the ante-chamber door, and -opened it gently, when immediately the voice of Lord Calverly was -heard, raised to a loud and angry tone, exclaiming, "Get you gone, -mistress, and tell her to come down this instant, or I will come and -fetch her. Tell not me that you cannot get admission or an answer. If -I come, it shall be to make a way for myself."</p> - -<p class="normal">"But it is not ten yet, my lord," said the sweet voice of Constance. -"You said you would give her till ten."</p> - -<p class="normal">"What matters five minutes?" cried the old lord, in the same sharp -tone. "But we will be to the letter, and so shall she. Let her know, -girl, if she is not here, in this hall, by the time the castle clock -chimes the last stroke of ten, I will come to fetch her, and drag her -to the altar by the wrists."</p> - -<p class="normal">Sir William Arden had held up his hand to those who were following -him, at the first sounds of the voices speaking; and the whole party -paused, some upon the stairs, and a few upon the landing. The next -moment, the door of the ante-room opened; and, coming with a slow -step, Constance appeared. She gave a slight start at seeing Arden and -the rest, where she least expected to meet them; but he quietly laid -his finger on his lip, and pointed along the corridor to the stone -screen. Constance made a mute gesture, as if deprecating violence, and -then passed on with a quickened step.</p> - -<p class="normal">Arden did not immediately enter the ante-room, but waited till the -light foot-fall of Constance had died away; and then, once more giving -his directions to his followers, and bestowing another word of caution -upon Chartley, he walked straight through the ante-room into the hall. -When he entered, Lord Calverly was walking up and down one side of the -long chamber, and Lord Fulmer doing the same in the other. The face of -each was grave and moody; and they seemed not very well pleased with -each other, or with anything that was taking place around them. Both -however started on seeing Sir William Arden; and, in a tone of bitter -civility, Lord Calverly addressed him, approaching quite close as he -did so.</p> - -<p class="normal">"I had thought, Sir William, you had retired to rest," he said, "and -was wishing you tranquil slumbers. Allow me to say that, at the -present moment, I and Lord Fulmer are busy with matters of much -personal importance."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Good faith, my lord," replied Sir William Arden, in a light tone, "I -heard below that there were jovial things to take place in the castle, -and I wish to share in the festivities of my honoured host."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I know not what you mean, sir," said Lord Calverly, with a cold -stare; but Fulmer at once advanced to the knight, saying--</p> - -<p class="normal">"There is a meaning in your tone, sir, which must be explained. It -seems to me, that you are determined to force your uninvited society -upon us, at a moment when we desire to be alone."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Exactly, my good lord," replied Arden. "I am precisely in that very -unpleasant predicament. You will see how disagreeable it must be to -me; and therefore I trust you will make it as smooth to me as -possible."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Why, marry, what is all this?" exclaimed Lord Calverly.</p> - -<p class="normal">"If so painful, what brings you here?" demanded Fulmer sternly.</p> - -<p class="normal">"I will tell you, young man," answered Arden. "I have learned, that it -is the intention of this good lord to bestow on you the hand--"</p> - -<p class="normal">"From whom, from whom?" shouted Lord Calverly.</p> - -<p class="normal">"From an exceedingly fat priest, amongst others," replied Arden, -smiling; "but the news is all over the castle. If your lordship cannot -keep your own secrets, depend upon it, others will not."</p> - -<p class="normal">"But what affair is this of yours, Sir William?" said Fulmer, with a -sneer. "Are you an aspirant to the lady's hand?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Not at present," answered Arden. "But the case is this, without -farther words, my lords. I find that this marriage is against the -lady's will, and that threats are held out to her of using force--"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Oh, she has made her complaint to you, has she?" said Lord Calverly.</p> - -<p class="normal">"No, she has not," replied Arden; "but hearing it by accident, and -having a great regard for your two lordships, I wished, as a knight -and a gentleman of some experience and repute, to remonstrate with -you, and show you what danger and disgrace to your fair names you -bring upon yourselves by such proceedings--proceedings unworthy of -English noblemen and Christian men."</p> - -<p class="normal">He spoke so calmly, and in such a quiet reasoning tone, that neither -Fulmer nor Lord Calverly suspected for one moment that he intended to -proceed to any other measure than mere remonstrance. That they thought -bold enough; and Fulmer replied, "We understand from whence your -inspiration comes, Sir William; and I only wonder the prompter does -not appear himself."</p> - -<p class="normal">"That I took care of," said Lord Calverly. "I am not one, my young -friend, to neglect any precautions. I think I have some experience in -dealing with men, and some foresight too as to all that is likely to -occur. It is not easy to catch me sleeping. Now, Sir William Arden, -One word for all. I am not inclined to be wanting in hospitality or -courtesy towards a guest; but I must desire to be left to the -management of my affairs, without either your presence or your -counsel;" and he made a low bow.</p> - -<p class="normal">Arden paused for a moment, as if in expectation that he would add -something more; and the old nobleman, who had with difficulty bridled -his anger so far, went on in a tone far from cool, to say; "I would -lack no courtesy; but, if you do not go, you must be removed."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I have but little more to say," replied Arden, with imperturbable -coolness, which contrasted somewhat strangely with his vehemence upon -minor occasions; "but that little is important. This marriage must not -go forward."</p> - -<p class="normal">"But I say it must!" exclaimed Lord Calverly, calling down a bitter -curse upon his own head if he did not carry it through; and then, -striding to the door which led to the staircase from the great hall, -he shouted aloud, "Ho! Two of you come up here; here is something -unpleasant that must be removed."</p> - -<p class="normal">Steps were immediately heard running up; and Arden retreated towards -the door by which he had entered, slowly and calmly, but with a smile -upon his countenance.</p> - -<p class="normal">"My good lord," he said; "you do not know what you do;" and, opening -the door of the ante-room, he said aloud, "Here, I want some of you, -my friends. Two stand on the landing, and keep that way against all -comers."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Take hold of him and carry him away to his own rooms," exclaimed Lord -Calverly, at the same moment, addressing two of his attendants, who -had entered; but when he turned and saw the number of armed men -pouring in, he stood as one aghast; and Arden whispered to one of his -followers, "secure that door," pointing to the one on the opposite -side of the hall.</p> - -<p class="normal">The man to whom he spoke, and two others, darted across, and had -reached the middle of the hall, before the servants of the castle -seemed to comprehend what was going on.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Keep the door, keep the door!" cried Lord Fulmer; and they both -immediately ran towards it. It was a race which of the parties should -reach it first; and indeed neither won; but, just as the first of the -old lord's servants was stretching forth his hand to seize the door, -which was partly open, a stout arm applied a blow to the side of his -head, which made him stagger back, and then measure his length upon -the floor. The next instant the door was closed and locked; and Sir -William Arden remained the master of both entrances.</p> - -<p class="normal">"I beg your lordship's pardon," he said, "for taking somewhat decided -means to obtain a fair hearing, which it seems you were not inclined -to give me."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Are we to consider ourselves prisoners, sir?" exclaimed the old -nobleman, confounded and dismayed. "If so, I must appeal to the throne -against such violence."</p> - -<p class="normal">"If you, or Lord Fulmer either, can venture to do so, pray do," -replied Arden, calmly. "But I too, my lord, am a prudent man, as well -as yourself; and it is difficult to catch me sleeping. I said that -this marriage must not go forward; and I now ask you both, my lords, -whether you have the king's consent to this proceeding? In a word, -whether it was not your intention to act in this business in direct -disobedience to his authority?"</p> - -<p class="normal">Fulmer gazed down upon the ground, and bit his lip; but Lord Calverly -demanded fiercely--</p> - -<p class="normal">"Who told you that, sir? I protest against such an interference in any -man."</p> - -<p class="normal">"It matters not who told me," replied Arden. "Suffice it that I am -well prepared to justify what I do. Now, my lord, after what I have -said, you dare not proceed to the act which you were about to -commit--an act which would have only led you and Lord Fulmer here to -long imprisonment, if not worse. If you give up all notion of such -rashness, if you pledge me your word, that you will make no attempt to -carry through this marriage, till the king's full consent has been -obtained, and if this noble lord agrees to ride forward immediately -upon the errand with which he is charged by the king, I will restore -to you the command of your own house, which I have been obliged to -take possession of in his grace's service. Moreover, I will refrain -from reporting to the king the intended disobedience which I have been -in time to frustrate. If not, I shall feel it my painful duty to put -you both under arrest, and convey you myself to York."</p> - -<p class="normal">It is hardly possible to describe the sensations produced by these -words, and the calm and quiet tone in which they were uttered, upon -the minds of his two hearers. Lord Calverly was astounded and -terrified; for, like almost all very vain and pompous men, he was very -easily depressed by difficulties and dangers. It only required to -humble his vanity sufficiently, to make it a very submissive and -patient quality, however vehement and pugnacious it might be under a -slight mortification. To find himself suddenly deprived of all power -in his own house, and treated with an air of authority and reproof, by -a guest who ventured to back his pretensions by the redoubted name of -Richard, was quite sufficient to silence him, although his wrath still -swelled and fretted within.</p> - -<p class="normal">Lord Fulmer, for his part, heard the words which had just been spoken, -not only in sullen silence, but with much surprise. He well knew that, -hurried on by passion, he had placed himself in a position of very -great danger, and that the act of disobedience he had committed, if it -reached Richard's ears, was likely to be followed by the ruin of all -his hopes, and long imprisonment. But how Sir William Arden had so -rapidly received tidings of the commands the king had laid upon him, -he could not divine, forgetting entirely that the necessity of his -departure on the following morning had been mentioned to Iola in the -presence of Constance. At the same time, he felt that to remain would -be ruin, and that resistance was vain. His only hope, therefore, was -to escape the present danger, trusting that some of the many changing -events of the day would afford him better opportunities, or at all -events give him at some future time the means of revenge.</p> - -<p class="normal">All Lord Calverly thought of, after he had in some degree mastered his -anger and surprise, was how to retract, in as dignified a manner as -possible; and he had just begun to reply, "Well, sir, if I am a -prisoner in my own house, I have nothing to do but to submit;" but the -voice of Constance was heard, speaking eagerly to some one without.</p> - -<p class="normal">A moment or two after, she entered with a face still somewhat pale, -and a look of much anxiety, saying:--</p> - -<p class="normal">"I am sorry to tell you, my lord, that my cousin is not to be found. -After knocking for some time at her door, I and her girl Susan chanced -to see the key lying on the table of the ante-room; but we used it -only to find her chamber vacant."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Heaven and earth!" exclaimed Lord Calverly; "this is too much. Where -can the foolish child have concealed herself? From the castle she -could not go, for the gates were all locked at sunset. Let us search -for her immediately."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Ay, let us search," exclaimed Lord Fulmer, with a look of great -anxiety. "If any evil have happened, I shall never forgive myself."</p> - -<p class="normal">Sir William Arden was somewhat alarmed; but, although Constance's face -expressed anxiety, it struck him there was less terror in it than -might have been expected.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Ay, noble lord," he said, "we always regret wrong actions when it is -too late; but, before I permit either of you to quit this hall, we -must have a clear understanding. Do you accept the conditions I -mentioned?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Assuredly," replied Lord Calverly; "I must search for this poor child -at once."</p> - -<p class="normal">"And you, Lord Fulmer?" said Arden.</p> - -<p class="normal">"I do," replied Fulmer, bowing his head.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Then I commend you to your horse's back at once," said Arden; "and I -will have the honour of waiting upon you to the stables. Otherwise, -perchance, you might find neither men nor horses free to serve you."</p> - -<p class="normal">"This is hard," said Fulmer.</p> - -<p class="normal">"It may be no better, I fear," replied Arden. "Excuse me, for a -moment, my lords, while I speak with the guard without;" and, turning -to the men at the door, he added, "Suffer no one to quit the hall, but -the lady, till I return."</p> - -<p class="normal">He was not long absent; but, many had been the questions poured forth -in the mean time, upon Constance, who was replying to one of them, -when Sir William re-entered the room.</p> - -<p class="normal">"I cannot even divine, my dear uncle," she said; "she communicated not -her intention to me in any shape; and I certainly expected to find her -in her own chamber, when I returned at the end of the hour, during -which she wished to be left in solitude."</p> - -<p class="normal">Arden seemed not to notice the words, though he heard them, but -informing Lord Fulmer that he was ready to accompany him, prepared to -lead the way.</p> - -<p class="normal">At that moment, however, one of the servants whom Lord Calverly had -called into the hall, and who had of necessity remained there with the -rest, remarked, in a dull and sullen voice:--</p> - -<p class="normal">"There is somebody ringing the great bell at the gate. 'Tis the third -time it has rung. The old porter must be sleeping, not to open."</p> - -<p class="normal">"He has no power," said Sir William Arden. "I have the keys. Go you," -he continued, speaking to one of his own followers--"open the wicket; -but give no admission to any large party. Two or three you may suffer -to enter."</p> - -<p class="normal">Lord Calverly was apparently about to say something; but the veteran -soldier waved his hand to the man, as a signal to depart; and he -retired at once, knowing no authority but that of his own master.</p> - -<p class="normal">During his absence, which lasted some two or three minutes, the whole -party stood in unpleasant silence. Lord Calverly, indeed, ventured a -word in a low tone to Fulmer, but obtained no reply; and some one came -and tried the door on the side of the principal staircase, leading to -the great hall; but it was locked and guarded. The eyes of Constance -sought the face of Arden; but neither spoke.</p> - -<p class="normal">At length the servant returned; but he was not alone. Close upon his -steps came a man dressed as an ordinary post or courier of the court, -who gazed round the scene presented to him in some surprise.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Which is Sir William Arden?" he said, somewhat to the dismay both of -Fulmer and the old lord.</p> - -<p class="normal">"I am he," replied Arden, advancing with a mind relieved; for, though -resolved, at all hazards, to carry through what he had undertaken; yet -he had some fear that his first plans might be in a degree -disconcerted by the appearance of the royal messenger.</p> - -<p class="normal">The post immediately handed him a letter, sealed with the broad seal, -and Arden received it as an ordinary occurrence, with admirable -command of his countenance.</p> - -<p class="normal">"By your leave, my lords," he said, and, approaching one of the -sconces, he opened the paper and read. The cover seemed to contain two -other letters, and after having perused his own, he turned towards -Lord Calverly, presenting one of them to him, and saying:</p> - -<p class="normal">"I presume, my lord, this is an order to deliver up the ward of my -cousin, Lord Chartley, to myself."</p> - -<p class="normal">But there was more in the epistle to the old nobleman, and when he -read it his face turned very pale.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Now, sir," said Arden, addressing Lord Fulmer, "I will conduct you to -your horse, and then immediately perform, the commands of his grace -the king."</p> - -<p class="normal">"In the name of all the saints, my dear child," said Lord Calverly, as -soon as Arden and Fulmer had quitted the room; "what is to be done, if -we cannot find your cousin?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Nay, I know not," answered Constance, "but I trust we shall find her -well and safe, or at all events hear from her, if she should have -taken refuge elsewhere. In the midst of all this confusion, it is very -possible she may have slipped out of the castle unperceived."</p> - -<p class="normal">Constance, it would appear, did not choose her means of consolation -well; for her words had anything but a soothing effect upon her uncle, -who walked up and down for two or three minutes, in a state of great -agitation, making sundry addresses to saints and the virgin, which -savoured much more of impatience than piety. At length, returning to -his niece's side, as she remained standing in the midst, of the room, -he whispered:--</p> - -<p class="normal">"We must find her, we must find her, Constance. This is the most -unfortunate out of all. You don't know what is in this letter;" and he -struck it with his fingers. "The king here tells me to send her back -to the abbey immediately, and that he makes the abbess, my good -sister, responsible for her safeguard, till he can decide in the -matter of her marriage himself. He must have had some inkling of this -rash mad-headed boy's purpose."</p> - -<p class="normal">"That is unfortunate, indeed," answered Constance, thoughtfully.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Unfortunate!" exclaimed her uncle. "It is ruin, child. Why, I risk -not only imprisonment but confiscation. I cannot comply with the -king's commands; nor can I explain to him why I do not comply, without -telling him all that has occurred to-night. It is ruin, I tell you. -Here, come aside, that knave of a courier seems listening to us."</p> - -<p class="normal">"You had better tell Sir William Arden your difficulty," replied -Constance, when they had got to the farther end of the hall. "Though -his manner is rough and blunt, yet sure I am he has a kind heart."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Let us search well for her first," said her uncle. "Perhaps we may -find her in the castle after all. I wish the knight would return. What -a long time he stays. Hark!" he continued, after a pause of a minute -or two. "There is the sound of horses' feet in the court-yard. Now, -thank God, Fulmer is gone; a good riddance, on my life, for he had -well nigh persuaded me to that which might have been my destruction."</p> - -<p class="normal">Only a short interval took place before Arden returned; and, after -giving some orders in a low tone to his own men, he advanced towards -Lord Calverly, holding out his hand and saying--</p> - -<p class="normal">"I beseech you, my good lord, to let all angry feeling pass away -between us. Believe me, I have saved you from a great danger, into -which you were persuaded to run, by your regard for the young nobleman -who is just gone, contrary to the dictates of your own wisdom and -experience."</p> - -<p class="normal">Lord Calverly took his hand, and shook it heartily, saying--</p> - -<p class="normal">"That is very true, Sir William, that is very true. I never liked the -business, and was hard to persuade; but, having once decided, of -course I could not suffer myself to be thwarted by a mere child. Pray, -now, let us seek for her. I am ready, God knows, to obey the king in -everything," he added in a loud tone, for the messenger's ears.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Well, we will seek for her at once," said Arden. "But first let us -restore the house to its propriety."</p> - -<p class="normal">The followers of Chartley and of Arden himself were dismissed to their -several occupations; the servants of Lord Calverly permitted to depart -from the hall; the refreshment of the king's post was provided for; -and the search was commenced, Chartley having been called to aid, at -the suggestion of his cousin. Every nook and corner of the extensive -building was examined, but Iola was not to be found.</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h3>CHAPTER XXXVI.</h3> -<br> - -<p class="normal">The search was over. It had proved, as I have said, vain; and Lord -Calverly was in a state of bewildered confusion of mind, which it was -impossible to describe. Obey the king's commands by placing Iola once -more in the abbey of St. Clare of Atherston, he could not do. To -explain to Richard the cause of his disobedience was only to accuse -himself of a worse fault of the same kind. To frame any excuse, real -or false, for his conduct, he knew not how; and his whole anxiety -seemed to be to pursue and overtake the fugitive, wherever she might -have taken refuge. Several of the servants were examined, in order to -obtain some clue to the course which she had followed; but no one -could afford any. Her waiting-woman, Susan, was as much grieved, -distressed, and anxious as the rest. The porter declared that he had -closed every postern before he was shut into his lodging by Sir -William Arden; and, at first, the old lord was inclined to suppose -that Iola had taken advantage of the keys having been left in the -door, to make her escape, while Arden was remonstrating with him in -the hall. But, on the one hand, the porter declared that the keys had -never been removed from the place where Arden had left them till they -were taken to give admission to the king's messenger; and the man who -had been shut up with him confirmed the story. They had both watched -anxiously, they said, and must have heard the sound of the keys being -withdrawn, had such a thing occurred. Sir William's attendant, too, -who had given admission to the royal courier, stated that he had found -the gates both locked and barred. The girl, Susan, too, showed that -she had remained in her mistress's antechamber for nearly three -quarters of an hour immediately before she was missed; and every -servant stated positively that they had neither seen the lady, nor any -figure, which could have been hers disguised, attempt to pass out of -the castle.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Nothing can, at all events, be done till morning," said Sir William -Arden, "and therefore, my good lord, I will wish you good night. Let -us take counsel with our pillows."</p> - -<p class="normal">His suggestion was followed, Chartley accompanying his friend with -less anxiety apparent on his countenance than the occasion might -perhaps have justified. Before Arden went, he contrived to say a few -words to Constance, unheard by the rest; but Constance shook her head, -replying, "I know nought, indeed, and can give no information; but yet -I am inclined to believe that dear Iola is in no danger, wherever she -is. She used to roam far and wide, where I should have been afraid to -venture; and I feel sure she is safe." Then dropping her voice quite -to a whisper, she added, "Pray, tell Lord Chartley so."</p> - -<p class="normal">A few minutes after, Chartley and his friend sat together in the -chamber of the former; and Arden eyed him with an enquiring and yet a -smiling glance.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Know you aught of this escapade, Signor Chartley?" he said, at -length. "Methinks you seem not so heart-wrung and fear-stricken as -might have been expected, at the unaccountable disappearance of your -lady love."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Nevertheless, I am anxious," replied Chartley, "for I know not where -she is, nor what has become of her, any more than the rest. But, at -the same time, I have this consolation, that I believe her escape must -have been planned, in case of need, long before; for she boasted to me -that she could pass through the walls of this castle like a spirit. I -therefore argue, that we have every reason to think her safe; and, to -tell the truth, I should not much regret her having put herself beyond -the power of her excellent wise uncle, were I not here in ward, and -unable to do as I could wish."</p> - -<p class="normal">"What would you do, if you were out of the old earl's clutches?" -demanded Arden, with a smile.</p> - -<p class="normal">"I would set off by day-break to seek her--" replied Chartley, "by -day-break to-morrow morning."</p> - -<p class="normal">"And having found her?" asked Arden.</p> - -<p class="normal">Chartley smiled, and looked thoughtfully down on the table, for a -moment or two, answering at length, "Don't you think, Arden, that if -one going a journey found a peculiarly beautiful flower growing near -his path, he would be inclined to gather it at once, not waiting till -he came back again, lest it should be withered or plucked in the mean -time. One would not mind a few scratches either, to get at it."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Come, come, no metaphors," said Arden. "You know, I am dull as to all -fanciful things, my good lord, so tell me plainly what you would do."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Well, then," answered Chartley, "if I found her, as you suppose, I -should be strangely tempted to ask her to get upon the back of an -ambling mule or light-footed Barbary jennet, and make a pilgrimage -with me to some shrines of great repute in Britanny or France."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Hymen's for one of them, I suppose," said Arden, laughing; "ah, -Chartley, you are but a pagan after all. But you forget such things -might be dangerous. When you came back, your head would be in a -tottering condition, or, at the best, your dearly beloved liberty of -roaming might be confined within the four walls of a small room."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I might stay away, till heads were more sure upon men's shoulders, -and liberties were not the sport of a tyrant's caprice," replied -Chartley, more gravely than was his wont. "This state of things cannot -last for ever, Arden. The world is getting sick of it. There are -strange rumours abroad. Our poor queen Ann is ill; and men much -suspect she will not recover. Few indeed do under the treatment she is -likely to have; and Richard, they say, is very anxious for heirs."</p> - -<p class="normal">"So, so," cried Arden, "sets the wind there? Why, methought a Chartley -would never draw his sword against the house of York."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Assuredly," replied Chartley, "so long as the lawful heirs of that -house sat upon the throne. But there is such a thing, Arden, as two -streams mingling--such a thing as two factions, long rivals arrayed in -bloody opposition, finding a bond of fellowship, and uniting to -overthrow one who has wronged and slaughtered both.</p> - -<p class="normal">"I have heard something of this," said Arden, thoughtfully. "The -rightful heir of York is Elizabeth of York; and, were such a thing -possible, that Harry of Richmond should graft the red rose on the -white rose stem, there is many a man beside yourself who would gladly -couch a lance in his support."</p> - -<p class="normal">Chartley gazed at him for a moment thoughtfully, and then answered. -"He has sworn it, Arden, in the cathedral church of Rennes. I know I -can trust you; and I tell you he has sworn it. The queen Elizabeth, -too, consents, I am informed; and men but wait for the propitious -hour."</p> - -<p class="normal">"You have heard from Richmond!" said Arden, bluffly. "Your Arab -brought you letters from the earl."</p> - -<p class="normal">"No," answered Chartley; "but I have heard from Oxford. He is already -in arms in Picardy; and Calais had better close fast her gates."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Well, well," said Arden. "Love and war, 'tis strange how well these -two dissimilar dogs hunt in couples. We were talking of love just now, -and lo, she runs straight up to the side of war. So, if you were free, -you would ride off with this sweet pretty Iola, and wait for better -times, tending hens and sowing turnips round a cottage door. Upon my -life, I see no reason why you should not, even as the matter is."</p> - -<p class="normal">"But I am in ward," said Chartley. "My pledge has been given to this -good old Lord Calverly."</p> - -<p class="normal">"That is all at an end," replied Arden, with a smile, drawing some -papers from his pocket. "I have kept you all this time in ignorance, -to win your secrets from you. But now know, my lord, that you are in -ward to me, and not Lord Calverly. Here is the king's letter to me, -and there is one from his gentle grace for you, probably announcing -the same thing. The truth is, I fancy, this rash Lord Fulmer has let -Richard into too many secrets; and the king is determined to keep his -hold of the young lover, by delaying his marriage, while he at the -same time separates you from her, to ensure that she is not won by a -rival. How he happened to fix upon me as your jailer is a marvel."</p> - -<p class="normal">While he had thus spoke, Chartley had opened the king's letter, and -was reading it eagerly.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Wrong, Arden, wrong!" he exclaimed, with a joyous look, "wrong, and -yet right in some things--read, read!"</p> - -<p class="normal">Arden took the letter and ran over the contents with that sort of -rapid humming tone which renders some words distinct, while others are -slurred over. Every now and then he added a comment in his own -peculiar way, not always in the most polite or reverent language; for -those were not times of great refinement, and right names were often -applied to things which we now veil both in word and seeming.</p> - -<p class="normal">"'To our trusty and well beloved'--well, well--so he wrote to -Buckingham--'our intentions towards you were more gentle than the need -of example required to be apparent'--doubtless, his intentions are -always gentle; but his needs are numerous--'somewhat exceeded in -strictness the spirit of our injunctions'--Poor Lord Calverly, mighty -strict indeed when he lets his house be mastered by a prisoner and a -handful of guests!--'transferred you therefore in ward to your cousin, -Sir William Arden, who will better comprehend our intentions. Nor do -we purpose here to shut up our benevolence towards you, but to enlarge -it according to your merits and services, even in that which you most -desire'--What does the hypocrite mean? He will have your head off ere -he has done--'In the mean time, as you incurred displeasure by -rashness, so win fair fortune and your heart's content by prudence; -for having learned your wishes from a rival and an enemy, we give you -an earnest of our good will, in disappointing his desires, with the -thought of gratifying yours, according to your deserving, in good -season. So, commending you to the protection of God, the Blessed -Virgin, and St. Paul'--what a number of them!--'we bid you, et -cetera.'"</p> - -<p class="normal">Arden laid down the letter, and fell into deep thought. Chartley spoke -to him, but he did not seem to hear. Chartley gazed at him, and -laughed in the joyous hopefulness of youth; but Arden took no notice. -Chartley shook him by the arm; but his cousin merely said in a sharp -tone--</p> - -<p class="normal">"Let me think, idle boy!--Let me think. Would you be chained to the -collar of a boar, to be dragged with him, wallowing through the blood -of the dogs, which will soon be let loose to hunt him to the death?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"I know not what you mean," exclaimed the young nobleman; "have you -gone mad, Arden?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"It is you who are mad, if you see not the object of this letter," -replied Arden. "Hope to you--suspense to Fulmer--both for the same -purpose. To keep you his. He holds out a prize to the eyes of both, to -be won by a race of services and submissions to himself. Will you -enter upon this course, Chartley? Will you, even for the hand of Iola, -become the labouring straining serf of him who slew your royal -master's children, slaughtered innocent babes, spilt the blood of his -own house? See through his artful policy--shut not your eyes to his -purpose--calculate the price you must pay for his support of your -suit--judge accurately whether, when all is done, the hypocrite will -keep the spirit of his promise; and then choose your path."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I saw it not in that light," replied Chartley, at once brought down -to a graver mood, "and yet it may be as you say."</p> - -<p class="normal">"May be? It is!" replied Arden, "by St. Peter, that dear little girl -was right and wise, to fly away and not be made a decoy to lead the -game into his net! She knew it not indeed; but that matters not. 'Tis -well that she is gone. Her foolish uncle must be sent to court, to -confess his sins and excuse them as he may. It is the best course for -him, the best result for us. Time--it is time we want."</p> - -<p class="normal">"But I want something more, Arden," said. Chartley. "I want -liberty--freedom to act as I will. Then my course is soon decided. By -Heaven, I have a thousand minds to rise upon my ward master, bind him, -and carry him with me--whither he would be right willing to go, <i>under -compulsion</i>."</p> - -<p class="normal">"No, Chartley, no!" answered Arden. "I will not put a colouring upon -my actions that they merit not. I will not seem to do by force that -which I am afraid to do with good will and openly."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Then what will you do? How will you act?" demanded Chartley, somewhat -puzzled.</p> - -<p class="normal">"'Tis a case of difficulty," replied Arden, musing. "I must not accept -a charge and then violate a trust; I must not shelter a breach of -faith under an equivocation."</p> - -<p class="normal">"But if you refuse to ward me," answered Chartley, "'Tis certain I -shall be placed in stricter hands."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I will not refuse," replied his cousin. "I know this king, and I will -accept the ward for a time; but I will write to him and tell him, that -it shall be for but one month, as I could never manage you long in my -life--which Heaven knows is true enough. If it last longer I renounce -it. I know well how it will be. If he sees you tranquil and quiet, he -may perhaps let you have full liberty then, thinking that he has power -over you by the hope of this fair lady's hand. If not, he will write -to me at the month's end, to keep you still in ward, which I will not -do for an hour. Meanwhile, we shall have time for all preparations, to -find the lady, and seek both the means of flight and means of living -afar. Then, have with you, Chartley, and good fortune speed us both!"</p> - -<p class="normal">This arrangement was not altogether pleasing to his more ardent and -impatient companion.</p> - -<p class="normal">"But hark you, Arden," he said, "long ere the time you speak of, -things may have occurred which will require instant decision. -Everything is hurrying here to a close; and, before a month be over, -much may take place which will render it necessary to act at once."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I do not think it," answered Arden, deliberately. "The march of great -events is generally slow. Sometimes, indeed, it happens that an -earthquake comes and shatters all; but more frequently the changes of -the world are like the changes of the year, spring, summer, autumn, -winter; cloud, sunshine, wind, rain, thunderstorm, sunshine once more, -and then the same course round."</p> - -<p class="normal">"But I tell you, Arden, Oxford is already in arms," replied Chartley, -"and marching towards Calais, to take it from the usurper, that -Richmond is promised aid from France, and that troops are already -gathering at Rouen."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Rain drops before the storm," answered Arden; "but, before you can do -aught, you must find your sweet lady Iola, gain her consent to your -plans, make all your preparations for escape; and this will all take -some time, let me tell you."</p> - -<p class="normal">"What if we find her speedily," said Chartley, "and see, moreover, -that she is likely to fall into the king's hands, and to be held out, -as you yourself have said, as a prize to the most serviceable."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Good faith, then you must act as you think fit," said Arden. "I shall -guard you, and your seven or eight servants, with myself and my own -three. Richard cannot expect that I should augment my household to -pleasure him, in a matter that he puts upon me without my wish. Should -need be, you must lay your own plans and execute them. Only let me not -know them, at least, till the month is over. But methinks, my good -lord and cousin, your impatience somewhat miscalculates the future. A -month is a short time for all I have mentioned."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Ay, but I go fast," answered Chartley. "To-morrow we will away to -seek this fair lady, and never give the search up till we have found -her. You despatch this old lord as fast as may be to York; for, if he -should stay and find her out, we might have strife or difficulty."</p> - -<p class="normal">"See how he takes the tone of command already," exclaimed Arden, -laughing; "but do you know, Signor Chartley, that I have a strange -hankering for this great castle of Chidlow, and do not love to leave -it yet. There are others to be served as well as you."</p> - -<p class="normal">"How so?" demanded Chartley, in surprise; "why should you wish to stay -at Chidlow?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Because there is a little maiden there, with sweet soft eyes," -replied Arden, "who though, God wot, somewhat given to pensive mood, -smiles brightly when I talk to her; and methinks it will not be very -easy to tear myself away."</p> - -<p class="normal">"What, Constance?" exclaimed Chartley. "You, Arden, you! You thinking -of love and matrimony! Why, I have given you over to dull celibacy for -the last ten years. You were wont to think no eyes so bright as a -spear's point, to feel no love for aught but a suit of Milan steel, to -warm to the sound of cannon sooner than the lute, and to think the -blast of the trumpet sweeter than any lady's tongue. Now, farewell to -all hopes of your inheritance! Lack-a-day, what a splendid fortune I -have missed by not watching you more closely! and we shall soon have -half a score of little Ardens, with round curly heads, playing with -your rusty greaves, and calling you Papa."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Go on. I am laughter proof," answered Arden. "Let him laugh who wins. -Of one thing, at least, I am certain, if she gives me her hand, 'tis -with free will and all her heart. No ambition in a case where the -bridegroom is a simple knight, no ambition where she does not know him -to possess a single angel in the world, except herself. But tell me, -Chartley, where have been your eyes?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Looking into Iola's, I fancy," answered Chartley. "'Tis true, I saw -you sit and talk with her upon the battlements the other day, and -heard you laugh, and saw you smile; but I thought, good sooth, 'twas -mere good-nature that kept you lingering behind with Constance, in -order that Iola and I might have free leave to pour forth our hearts -to each other."</p> - -<p class="normal">"No, no," answered Arden. "I am very good-natured and generous, I -know; but in this instance, like the rest of the world, I was -good-natured--with an object. 'Tis true," he continued, in a graver -tone, "there is a great difference between her age and mine--some four -and twenty years, and I shall wither while she will still bloom. -Perhaps you think her too young, Chartley, to be taken as my wife; but -I am not yet old enough to adopt her as my daughter; and one or the -other she shall be, if she will; for I will not leave that dear girl -to the sad choice of vowing herself to a convent, or remaining -dependent upon her foolish uncle's bounty."</p> - -<p class="normal">Chartley laid his hand affectionately upon his cousin's, saying, "Far -from thinking her too young to be your wife, Arden--far from thinking -you should not make her such, I believe and trust that you will find -happiness with her, such as you have never known before. I have seen -the honeysuckle in the woods, twining itself sweetly round the trees. -It chooses generally a stout and sturdy trunk, of mature growth, and -there it winds itself up, loading the strong branches with its -nectar-dropping blossoms. Sometimes, however, I have seen it climb up -a light sapling, till they mingled leaves and flowers together, in one -heavy mass; but then, there being no steadiness in either, they have -been blown to and fro with every wind, till a fiercer blast of the -tempest has broken or rooted up the frail prop; and the honeysuckle -has been laid low with that it clung to."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Well, I have no cause to make the objection if she do not," answered -Arden. "She has wound herself round my heart, I know not how; but I -have concealed nothing from her: She knows my birth-day as well as I -do myself; and she says she does not care a groat"--Chartley -smiled--"no, not exactly a groat," continued Arden, "but what she -said, was this, that when one loved any body, the heart never stopped -to ask whether he was rich or poor, old or young; that where -calculation entered, love was not. Upon my life, I believe what she -said is true; for I know I began to make love to her without any -calculation at all, and not much thinking of what I was about. Is that -the usual way, Chartley?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Precisely!" answered his cousin.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Well, then, let us go to bed," said Arden; "for I shall rouse this -old lord by cock-crow, and send him off, as soon as I can, to York."</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h3>CHAPTER XXXVII.</h3> -<br> - -<p class="normal">To write a really good play is undoubtedly a much more difficult -thing, and the achievement a much more glorious one, than to write a -good romance; and yet the dramatist has some very great advantages -over the romance writer. He is conventionally permitted to skip over -all dull details, which the romance-writer is obliged to furnish. The -prominent points alone are those with which he deals; the burden of -the rest is cast upon nimble-footed imagination, who, supplies in a -moment, from her own inexhaustible stores, all that is requisite to -complete the tale, with much richer and more brilliant materials than -pen or tongue can afford. If some reference to events going on at a -distance from the scene be necessary in words, they may be as brief as -the writer wills; and all that is needful to describe the approach of -dangers, which have been long preparing, and the effect upon him to -whom the tale is told, is comprised in two brief sentences:</p> -<div style="margin-left:10%"> - -<p class="t1"><i>Stanley</i>--Richmond is on the seas.</p> -<p class="t1" style="margin-left:28%; text-indent:-26%"><i>King Richard</i>--There let him -sink--and be the seas on him, -<p class="t1" style="margin-left:15%;">White-livered runagate!</p> -</div> - -<p class="normal">This is quite enough; and although I have heard the admirable critics -object to the conceit approaching to a pun, expressed in the second -line, as unnatural, when placed in the mouth of a man agitated by -violent passions, as in the case of Richard, yet that man must have -been a very poor observer of human nature, who does not know that the -expression of strong passion is full of conceits. It seems as if -ordinary words and ordinary forms fail before the energies of passion, -and that recourse is had to language often obscure, often. -extravagant, sometimes ludicrous, and always full of conceits.</p> - -<p class="normal">However that may be, it is needful for me to give somewhat more at -length the course of events which Shakspeare summed up but briefly. I -will be rapid too, and pretend, in this short chapter, to give but a -sketch of events, which took several months in action.</p> - -<p class="normal">Weary men sleep not always sound; and, in less than four hours after -the earl of Richmond had laid his head upon his pillow at Angers, he -again came forth from his chamber, and went down to that large public -room, which in those days, and for many years after, was to be found -in every inn, both in France and England. When he entered, the room -was tenanted by only one person, for the dinner hour was passed; but -that person advanced to meet him at once, with a low reverence. "Ha, -Sir Christopher Urswick," said the earl; "right glad am I to see you. -The passport you obtained for me from the court of France served me -right well this morning at the city gates. By my faith, the pursuers -were close upon my heels. But why did you not come yourself?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Because I should have been in prison at Nantes by this time, and -could serve you better in France," replied Urswick. "There are many of -your friends waiting for you, sir, with anxious expectation, at the -court of Langeais; and Madame de Beaujeu, the regent of the kingdom, -is prepared to receive you as your dignity requires."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Then am I expected?" asked Richmond.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Many things are foreseen, which we can hardly say are expected," -answered Urswick; "but all knew that, within a month, you must be -either in France or England."</p> - -<p class="normal">Richmond paused in thought, and then asked: "How far is it hence to -Langeais?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Barely twenty leagues, my lord," replied the other; "an easy ride of -two short days."</p> - -<p class="normal">"And what is now the state of France?" asked Richmond, fixing his keen -inquiring eyes upon him.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Still sadly troubled," replied Urswick. "The contest for the guard of -the king's person and the rule of the kingdom still goes on. Orleans, -Dunois, and the old constable, on the one side, pull hard against -Madame de Beaujeu, her husband, and the rest of the court, on the -other; and there is nothing but cabals, dissensions, and from time to -time outbreaks; but the princess has more wit than the whole of France -put together; and she will break through all their plots, and confound -their intrigues. Still the state is very much troubled, and a new -revolt is expected every day."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Then we can pause, and rest at Angers," said Richmond, gravely. "If I -have many friends at the court of France, I have been obliged to leave -many at the court of Britanny. Their safety must be considered at -once. I will write to the good duke, before I break bread. I pray you, -in the mean time, seek me a trusty messenger. Let him be a Frenchman, -for there might be danger to any other."</p> - -<p class="normal">Prompt to execute his determinations, the earl at once addressed a -letter to the duke of Britanny, explaining the causes of his flight, -and pointing out to the weak but amiable prince the stain which his -minister had brought upon his name, by engaging to give up a guest, -who trusted his hospitality, to a bitter enemy.</p> - -<p class="normal">He urged not, it is true, the punishment of Landais; but he entreated -that his friends, the companions of his exile, might be permitted to -join him in France.</p> - -<p class="normal">This letter had all the effect he could have desired. Free permission -to go or stay was granted to every Englishman at the Breton court; and -the rage and shame of the duke, at the misuse of his power by Landais, -joined with the vehement accusations brought against that upstart -minister by the Breton nobles, induced the prince to give him up to -justice, reserving to himself indeed the right to pardon him, if he -should be condemned by a court of justice. The proceedings, however, -were too speedy for the slow duke. Landais was condemned; and he was -hung also, while the signature to his pardon was still wet.</p> - -<p class="normal">Three days after his arrival at Angers, the earl of Richmond set out -for Langeais, and early on the second day reached the gates of that -fine old château, in the great saloon of which may still be seen the -sculptured memorials of joys and ceremonies long past, which ushered -in the reign of the active and enterprising Charles VIII. His -reception was kind and cordial; but, as Urswick had informed him, -trouble still reigned at the court of France; and some weeks elapsed -before the earl could obtain anything like a promise of assistance -from Madame de Beaujeu. Then, however, she engaged to furnish a small -and insignificant force, to form merely the nucleus of an army to be -raised in England. Two thousand men alone was all that France offered; -but with this insufficient army Richmond determined to take the field, -and named Rouen, where he had many friends, as the meeting-place of -his troops. The assistance in money was not greater than the -assistance in men; and the hard condition of leaving hostages for the -payment of all sums advanced was inforced by the shrewd regent of -France, whose whole object and expectation, apparently, was, by -stirring up civil wars in England, to prevent Richard from pressing -any of those claims which he had against the neighbouring sovereign.</p> - -<p class="normal">She had to deal, indeed, with one perhaps as shrewd as herself; and, -although Richmond could not refuse the demand, he took advantage of it -to free himself of a person whose lightness and incapacity rendered -him little serviceable as an ally, and whose sincerity and good faith -were somewhat more than doubtful. Dorset was easily persuaded to avoid -the perils of an enterprise, the result of which no one could foresee, -by remaining as one of the hostages in Paris, with another gentleman -whom the earl felt he could do very well without; and Richmond -departed for Rouen, resolved to strike for life or death, a throne or -a grave, with whatever means fortune might furnish.</p> - -<p class="normal">A number of gallant English gentlemen surrounded the future king. But -they were in almost all cases without followers, and but scantily -provided with money. It was therefore not upon their unaided arms that -Richmond could depend for a crown; and, as he rode into the fine old -town of Rouen, a shade of despondency came over his countenance, never -very bright and cheerful. But at the door of the house which had been -prepared for him he was met by the boy Pierre la Brousse, who had been -sent on to announce his coming, and now sprang forward to hold his -stirrup.</p> - -<p class="normal">"The good bishop is waiting within, my lord," said the boy eagerly, as -Richmond dismounted. "He has news for you from England--" and then, -giving a glance at the earl's face, he added--"Good news, my lord."</p> - -<p class="normal">"You seem much in his confidence," said Richmond, coldly. "Does he -tell you whether his news is good or bad?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"His face does," replied the boy. "I watch men's faces."</p> - -<p class="normal">Richmond smiled and walked on, guided by Pierre, to the room where -Morton sat. For a moment the prelate did not seem to hear the opening -door, but remained, with the light of the lamp well nigh absorbed by -the black ceiling and the dark arras, poring over some papers on the -table before him. The next instant, however, he raised his eyes as -Richmond advanced, and, starting up, exclaimed--</p> - -<p class="normal">"I beg your pardon, my lord the king, I did not hear you enter."</p> - -<p class="normal">"The king?" said Richmond. "You forget, good father, I am as yet no -king."</p> - -<p class="normal">"But shall be so within a month," replied Morton, laying his hand on -the papers, "if there be but one word true in ten of all that is -written in these letters. But you are weary, you are thirsty. Let me -order some refreshment, while supper is preparing."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I am weary of disappointments, thirsty for hope," replied Richmond. -"Give me your tidings, before I drink or rest. Now, boy, retire;" and -he seated himself by the side of the chair which Morton had been -occupying.</p> - -<p class="normal">"This, my lord, from the gallant earl of Northumberland," said Morton, -handing him one letter. "See what comfortable assurances he gives of -the north."</p> - -<p class="normal">Richmond read, and looked well satisfied, but said nothing; and then -Morton handed him another, saying--</p> - -<p class="normal">"This from Sir Walter Herbert."</p> - -<p class="normal">"But poor comfort, that," observed Richmond. "He bids you be assured -that, whatever appearances he may put on, he will stand neuter. This -is cold, right reverend father."</p> - -<p class="normal">"In some cases, neutrality is better than favour," replied Morton. -"Herbert is Richard's right hand in Wales. If his right hand fail him, -his left will serve him but little. Read this from Rice ap Thomas."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Ay, this is more cheering," exclaimed Richmond, his face brightening. -"A thousand men! Why 'tis half the force we bring hence. But think -you, reverend friend, that he can keep his word?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"That he has the will, doubt not," replied the bishop of Ely, "and his -power must be shorn indeed, if he double not the number promised. Now -mark, my noble prince, what is said by this good Captain Savage--a -leader of no mean renown, and a man whose bare word will outweigh the -oaths of other men. Listen, 'Wales waits for his coming, as those -who watch for the dawn. She feels he is her son, and will give him the -welcome of a parent.' Tudor will meet here many kinsmen, more friends -than kinsmen, more soldiers than friends, more servants than all; for -those will serve him with their hearts and their purses, their prayers -and their means, who have not strength to draw a sword nor power to -raise a force. Let him land nowhere but in Wales."</p> - -<p class="normal">"And so say I," exclaimed Richmond; "my first footsteps upon British -shore shall be in the land of my fathers. I will go forth to seek the -crown, which is my right, from my own native home; and with such -promises as these, such friendship as yours, so good a cause, so base -an enemy, I will march on even with my little band, assured of -victory, and shame the petty aid of miserly France, by winning -gloriously, or leave my bones to pay the miserable debt, and let them -go to England to fetch them back. Now, my good lord bishop, for our -preparations; for I will not tarry longer by a day than I can help, on -this ungenerous soil."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Nay, my noble prince, take some refreshment," said Morton; "the -proper hour for supper has long passed, and I doubt much that you -tarried on the road for either food or rest."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Ha! supper--I had forgot," said Richmond; "well, I suppose, man must -eat. So we will sup, and call my brave companions in to aid us. Then -will we discuss our after measures, hear all their counsel, and -adopt--our own."</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h3>CHAPTER XXXVIII.</h3> -<br> - -<p class="normal">Gaps are sometimes pleasant things. With what interest the eye traces -a gap in a deep wood; how it roams up the glade, marking a tree -out-standing here, a clump of bushes there, the rounded swell of the -turf, the little sinking dell! And now imagination revels in the void, -filling up every breach in the line with a continuation of its own, -seeing the fancied woodman's hut peeping out from behind this mass of -foliage, peopling the coverts with dun deer, and raising up forms of -lads and lasses to wander through the chequered shade.</p> - -<p class="normal">I must have a break in the history of those upon whom the principal -interest of the tale has been concentrated, and can only furnish a few -brief lines, to guide the reader's imagination aright. We left them -in the spring of the year, when skies were soft, though warm, when the -shower mingled with the sunshine, when the leaf was in its green -infancy upon the branch, and all nature was rejoicing as if filled -with the sweet early hopes of youth. It was now summer, ardent summer; -the sky was full of golden light, the woods afforded deep shade; the -corn was turning yellow on the ground; and the cattle lay in the hot -noonday, chewing the cud, under the shadows of the trees. The -longed-for summer had come. It was fruition.</p> - -<p class="normal">Lord Calverly had followed the advice he had received, and presented -himself to the king to make what excuse he best could. He dared not -indeed tell the whole truth, and merely said, that his niece, -unwilling to fulfil the contract with Lord Fulmer, had fled he knew -not whither. Richard, however, divined more than he acknowledged; but -he dealt leniently with him. There was no fine, no confiscation, no -actual imprisonment. He merely required that the old nobleman should -remain constantly at the court till his niece reappeared, after having -satisfied himself that Lord Chartley was not cognizant of her flight -nor aware of her place of refuge.</p> - -<p class="normal">Suspicion and policy were busy in the king's mind at that hour; for -reports reached him, from his numerous spies in France and Britanny, -which showed that storms were gathering on the horizon; and signs, not -to be mistaken, told him of discontent and disaffection amongst the -people of his own land, while phantoms of shadowy conspiracies flitted -across the scene before his eyes, and left him in doubt and -apprehension of every man. All those whom he most feared and least -trusted he kept at the court under his own eye, believing that the -terror of the axe would secure that obedience which he could not -obtain from love and zeal.</p> - -<p class="normal">Lord Fulmer, indeed, remained in Dorsetshire, in command of a small -body of forces; but he was kept in check, and his fidelity secured by -the presence of a much larger power upon the verge of Somerset and -Devon, commanded by one in whom Richard could confide. Never failing -in dissimulation, the king noticed not in any way what he suspected or -what he knew of the young lord's conduct; but every messenger which -went to Dorsetshire carried commendations and hopes, and many an -expression of regret that the Lady Iola St. Leger had not been found, -so that his marriage must be necessarily delayed.</p> - -<p class="normal">It might be supposed, that if Richard thought precautions so necessary -in these instances, he would have exercised still greater vigilance in -the case of Lord Chartley. Such, however, was not the case. The -paradoxes of the human mind are part of history; but so common is it -for the most jealous, watchful, and suspicious, in every rank and -relation of life, to place the utmost confidence in those who are -destined to frustrate all their plans and purposes, and disappoint all -their expectations, that it is no marvel even so keen and untrusting a -man as Richard should feel no apprehensions, with regard to either -Chartley or Arden, though he was hateful to them both, and yet be -suspicious of Lord Calverly and Fulmer, who might perchance disobey -his orders, and refuse reverence to his authority in matters of small -moment, where their own passions were concerned, but who never -entertained a thought of abandoning the king's party, to which they -had attached themselves from the first. Cunning often overreaches -itself, often sees a distant object, and overlooks that lying at its -feet. But there were many circumstances which rendered Richard -careless in the case of Chartley. He looked upon him as a rash, -heedless, light-spirited young man, too open and too frank, either to -be sought by or to seek other conspirators. He had always been firmly -attached to the house of York, had been brought up from his youth -under its guardianship, had inherited, as it were, animosity to the -house of Lancaster, had taken no part with the new nobility, as the -relations of Edward's queen were called, and had, in his boyhood. -treated with some haughty contumely one of the upstart favourites of -the queen's brother, which caused him to be sent from court to travel -in foreign lands. These things had not been forgotten by Richard; and -he argued--"It is neither with Richmond nor with Dorset that this gay -young lord would intrigue, if he intrigued at all; and, so long as -this fair maid of St. Leger remains to be won, I have him sure. 'Tis -well she hides herself; for were she at the court, or in her uncle's -house, I might have to decide too soon. I doubt that moody -discontented Fulmer; but of this light-spirited youth I am secure."</p> - -<p class="normal">The month, during which Sir William Arden had agreed to hold his noble -cousin in ward, passed away. Richard heard of them travelling here, -travelling there, roaming from this village to that, hovering -sometimes round Chidlow, sometimes round Atherston, lodging at -Tamworth, at Leicester, at Hinckley; and he easily divined that -Chartley was seeking eagerly for Iola. The multitude of affairs -pressing upon his attention gave him but little time to think of minor -things; and he suffered the period to lapse, without taking any -farther precaution for the young lord's custody. It was recalled to -his memory some days afterwards by Catesby; and the king mused over -the suggestion for some moments; but at length he said in a somewhat -doubtful tone--</p> - -<p class="normal">"No. Let it be. But this girl must be heard of, Catesby. I must know -where she is, lest this youth find out the hidden treasure, and snatch -at it without our consent. There must be people who know her habits -and her haunts. Let them be enquired after, and in the mean time write -me a letter to Lord Chartley, requiring him to use every diligence to -seek for the Lady Iola, and bring her to the court, when he shall be -rewarded as his heart could desire. But mark you, Catesby, mark you. -Put in 'If the lady's heart go with it.' These young fools, we must -talk to them about hearts, or they will not believe. Methinks hearts -wear out about thirty, Catesby. Is it not so?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Sometimes sooner; sire," answered Catesby, gravely. "But I will do -your bidding; and methinks the person most likely to know where the -lure lies hid is the lady Constance, her cousin. The old lord sent her -back to the abbey of St. Clare; but I will despatch some one thither, -skilled in ladies' interrogatories, who will soon extract from her all -that she knows."</p> - -<p class="normal">"So be it," said the king, and there the conversation dropped.</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h3>CHAPTER XXXIX.</h3> -<br> - -<p class="normal">It was in the month of July, often a wet and rainy month, in this good -climate of England; but the rain had exhausted itself, and sunshine -had come back again, bright and clear. The world looked fresh and -beautiful, as if a new spring had come; and light and pleasant air -tempered the heat of the atmosphere; yet the door of the woodman was -shut and bolted; and, in the middle of the summer, a large fire burned -upon the hearth. With his leathern jerkin cast off, his powerful and -sinewy arm bare, and a heavy hammer in his hand, he stood by the fire -turning, from time to time, a piece of iron which lay amidst the -ashes. Then, approaching a sort of moveable anvil, which stood in the -midst of the floor, he adjusted upon it some plates of iron, fastened -closely together by rivets, one of which however was wanting. Next, -bringing the red hot iron from the fire, he passed it through the two -holes where the lost rivet had been, and with heavy blows of the -hammer fastened the whole together, while his large hound stood by and -contemplated his proceedings with curious eyes. Then throwing down the -iron plates by the side of some others very similar, he took up a -bright corslet, grooved and inlaid with gold tracery, and gazed upon -it with a thoughtful and a care-worn look. Through the hard iron, on -the right side, was a hole, of the breadth of three fingers, and all -round it the crimson cloth, which lined the corslet, was stained of a -deeper hue.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Ay, Ban," said the woodman, speaking to the dog, "those are the holes -which let life out! How is it to be mended? Nay, I will let it be--why -should I care? 'Twere a lucky lance that found twice the same -entrance;" and he cast down the corslet on the floor.</p> - -<p class="normal">The dog turned round towards the door, and growled; and the next -instant some one raised the latch, and then knocked for admission. In -haste, but yet with no agitation, the woodman lifted the various -pieces of armour which cumbered the ground, removed them to the inner -room, and locked the door. In the mean time the knock was repeated -twice or thrice, and the dog bayed loud. The woodman drew the bolts, -and threw back the door suddenly; but the only figure which presented -itself, was that of Sam, the piper.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Why, what have you been about, Master Boyd?" he said. "You were -hammering so loud but now, I could not make you hear."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Mending my tools," said Boyd, with a grim smile. "But what want you, -Sam? Have you brought me any news?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Ay, plenty," answered the piper. "First, let me put down my bag, and -give me a draught of beer, if it be but thin penny ale, for I am -thirsty, and my mouth is full of dust."</p> - -<p class="normal">"It has often been full of other things since day-break," said the -woodman; "but thou shalt have the beer. Sit you down there, outside -the door, and I will bring it you."</p> - -<p class="normal">The piper sat down on the rude seat at the door; and, while the -woodman departed "on hospitable thoughts intent," the hound came and -laid its head upon the lap of the wandering musician. But Sam, as -curious as any of his class, was seized with a strong desire to see -what the woodman had been really doing, and was rising to look in. The -moment he attempted to move, however, the dog, though he knew him -well, began to growl, and thus kept him there, as if he had been -placed on guard, till Boyd's return.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Well, now for your tidings then," said Boyd, when the man had drunk.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Which will you have first?" demanded the piper, "news from the court, -the castle, or the field?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"It matters not," said Boyd. "Shake them out of the bag, Sam, as they -come."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Well then, from the court," said Sam. "It should have the place of -honour, though there is but little honour in it. Well, the king is -mighty wroth to hear that the Earl of Richmond has put to sea with a -fleet and army to invade England. He laughed, they say, when he was -told thereof; and, when he laughs, 'tis sure that he is angry."</p> - -<p class="normal">"But is Richmond on the sea?" asked the woodman. "I doubt it."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Nay, I speak but what men tell me," answered Sam. "They say he is on -the sea with a great power. Many men refuse to pay the benevolence -too, and declare it is an exaction against the law. All this makes -Richard angry; and he rages at trifles like a mad bear, when the dogs -have got him by the muzzle."</p> - -<p class="normal">"He'll need a bear-ward, soon," said Boyd; "and he may get one."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Men say he is insane," continued Sam, "and that his brain has never -been right since his son died at Middleham. However, the queen's -funeral was as glorious as could be; and Richard wept a basin full, I -am told. But yet men have cried more over a raw onion, and never felt -it much at heart."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Well, well, what is all this to me?" asked Boyd, impatiently. "The -queen is dead and buried. God rest her soul! It had little rest here, -since she married the murderer of her husband. The king might love -her, or might not, may grieve for her, or not. What is all that to me? -She was not my wife;" and, seating himself on the bench, he bent his -eyes thoughtfully upon the ground.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Well then, my court news is told," said Sam. "Now for my country -gossip. Know you, good man Boyd, that the Lord Chartley, whom you and -I had to do with a good many months ago, when they burned the houses -on the abbey green, is back at Tamworth?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Ay, I know," replied Boyd. "He has been here thrice, hovering about -like a fly round a lamp."</p> - -<p class="normal">"He's a good youth," said the piper. "He promised me one gold angel, -and he gave me two. He has a right loving remembrance of that night -too; for I never see him but I get a silver remembrance thereof, so I -am rich now, Master Boyd. Then, there's his good cousin, Sir William -Arden. He hangs fondly about here too, and is, most days, at the grate -of the convent."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Ay, what does he there?" asked Boyd.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Why, he talks to the Lady Constance by the hour," answered the piper; -"and they all say it will be a match, although, if he be not well -stricken in years, he has been well stricken in wars. He's a good man -too, and bountiful of silver groats; but his hair is getting mottled -with grey, so that he is not so good a man as the young lord, whose -hair is all brown.</p> -<div style="margin-left:10%"> - -<p class="t1" style="text-indent:-15px">"'Oh, give to me the bonny brown hair,<br> -The teeth so white, and the skin so fair,<br> -The lightsome step, and the dainty air,<br> -Of my sweet Meg of the May.'"</p> -</div> - -<p class="normal">"No, no. I like Chartley best; and I shall make a fortune by him too, -before I've done. 'Tis the first luck that ever befel me, and I shall -open my cap to catch it."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Then, will you let it all run out in drink?" said Boyd. "But, how may -this luck come to you?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Why, he has promised me," said the piper, "to fill me a gill stoup -with gold pieces, if I can find out for him where liggs the pretty -lass who watched with him in the forest through one live-long night -not long ago. The Lady Iola, they call her. I know not if you know -such a one, woodman; but he has asked high and asked low, asked rich -and asked poor, and employed all sorts of cunning men to know where -the lady is, so that, in sheer despair, he has betaken himself to a -piper--and the piper is the man for his money, for he has found her -out."</p> - -<p class="normal">The woodman started at his words; and, turning upon him with a stern -brow, he said--</p> - -<p class="normal">"And thou hast told him?"</p> - -<p class="normal">The piper paused for a moment, and then laughed.</p> - -<p class="normal">"No," he said, at length; "I have not told him yet. I thought that I -would first speak with a certain person, who has sometimes odd -thoughts of his own, and who, though a rough man at times, has often -been kind to me, in days of trouble. When I meddle, I like to know -what I am meddling with; and though I be a poor wretch, who rarely -knows from one day to another where I shall get meat, or, what is more -important still, where I shall get drink; yet, to say truth, I would -rather lose a gill stoup full of gold pieces than make mischief which -I cannot mend. I therefore determined to speak first of all with this -person, who knows a good deal of the matter, and who, having hidden, -can find. Am I not wise?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Thou art better than wise," said the woodman, laying his strong hand -upon his shoulder. "Thou art good, as this world goes."</p> - -<p class="normal">The woodman paused thoughtfully for a few moments, and then said--</p> - -<p class="normal">"Not yet. You must not tell him yet. There is a task for her to -perform, a scene for her to pass through, before there can be -daylight. Said'st thou the earl of Richmond was on the sea?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"'Tis so confidently reported," replied the other; "notices of great -preparation at Harfleur, and of troops collecting at Rouen, have -reached the court, and are noised about the city; and the rumour is, -that the good earl has sailed, intending to land in Dorsetshire or -Devon."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Then he must fight or fail at once?" said the woodman; "and he must -be advised. Yet, doubtless, the tale is false; and at all events, it -is too late to stop him. Let me think. To-day is the twenty-eighth of -July, is it not?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Ay," answered the piper; "'tis so by my calendar."</p> - -<p class="normal">But the woodman seemed not to hear him, and went on in the same -meditating tone, saying--</p> - -<p class="normal">"It is a memorable day--ay, it is a memorable day. Once more in arms -Hark you, my friend, will you be my messenger?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"What, to the earl of Richmond?" cried Sam, with a start.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Who said the earl of Richmond, fool?" asked Boyd, sternly. "No, to a -lady."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Ay, right willing," answered the piper; "if I judge who the lady is; -for she was always kind and good to me."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Let not your wit run before your knowledge," said the woodman, "or it -will leave truth behind. I send you to a lady, whom you have seen, but -with whom you never spoke--"</p> - -<p class="normal">He suddenly broke off, and seemed to let his mind ramble to other -things.</p> - -<p class="normal">"If Richmond has spread the sail," he said, "he may have touched land -ere now. But Richard is unprepared. He has no force in the field, no -muster called, that I can hear of. There must be an error, and there -may yet be time enough. Do you remember a lady who, with a train of -maidens and grooms, passed through the forest several weeks ago?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Ay, right well," answered the piper. "She offered at the shrine of -St. Clare, looked through all the church, examined the monuments, and -read the books where strangers' names are written; and, moreover, she -gave bountiful alms, of which I had my share. Then she went to -Atherston, thence to Tamworth, and to many another place besides. She -was at the court too."</p> - -<p class="normal">"And is now gone to Tewksbury," said the woodman. "It is to her I -intend to send you."</p> - -<p class="normal">"'Tis a far journey, good man Boyd," replied the piper; "and -princesses are too high for me. They say she was a princess. You had -better send some one more quick of limbs than I am, and softer of -speech."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I can spare none," replied the woodman; "and 'tis because thou art -not fitted to draw a sword or charge a pike that I send thee. As for -speed, thou shalt have means to make four legs supply a cure for thine -own lameness. Canst thou ride a horse?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Draw a sword or charge a pike!" exclaimed Sam. "Art thou going to -make war, woodman?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"May not the abbey need defence in these troublous times?" demanded -Boyd. "Know you not, that I am bailiff now, as well as head woodman? -Canst thou ride a horse, I say?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"That can I," answered the man. "In my young days I rode the wildest. -Would I had wild or tame to bear me now, for I hobble painfully."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Well, then, thou shalt have one," said Boyd; "and, when thy journey -is done, keep him for thy pains. But mark me, thou shalt promise, on -thy soul and conscience, to drink nought but water till thou hast -delivered my message----"</p> - -<p class="normal">"'Tis a hard oath," said the piper. "I took one like it once before; -and I was forced for a fortnight after to double the pint stoup, to -make up for lost time. Well, well, I will take it."</p> - -<p class="normal">"That is not all," answered Boyd. "Thou shalt promise me, moreover, to -utter no word regarding whom the message comes from, neither to -mention my name, describe my person, nor tell my abode; but simply to -seek that lady, and tell her that the fate of the person for whom she -has so long enquired may still be heard of, and that you can lead her -to one who can give her all the tidings she desires."</p> - -<p class="normal">"And bring her hither?" demanded Sam.</p> - -<p class="normal">"No," answered the woodman. "First, let me be assured, if you really -know where the Lady Iola is. Tell me how you discovered her, and -where. Do not hesitate; for it must be told."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Nay, I hesitate not," answered the piper, "for thou wert there too; -so I can little harm her. One night, as I was passing through the wood -which lies between Atherston and Alanstoke--you know the wood right -well, not the first coppice, but the bigger wood beyond--I heard a -sound of singing. There were many voices; and, as I love music, I -crept up, when in the little glade, beside the stream that runs into -the Tamworth water, I saw some thirty people, men and women too, -singing right sweetly. I know not well what songs they were--assuredly -not the canticles of the church--but yet they seemed pure and holy; -for ever and anon they praised God's name, and gave him honour and -glory. They prayed too, but in the English tongue; and I could not -help thinking it were better if all men did the same in the land. Sure -I am, if they did so, they would know better what they say than when -they pray in Latin; and, though people, no doubt, would call the -meeting Lollardy, I liked it well. Then, when they parted company, I -saw the Lady Iola, for she was one, walk away between two men. One was -about your height, good man Boyd. The other, I knew by his long white -beard--the good old franklin, Elias Ames. There was a lad followed, to -see that no one watched, I fancy; and he seemed to me wondrous like -the son of the gardener at the abbey. But I tricked his vigilance, and -followed round by the other path, till I saw the Lady Iola and the -good old franklin go into his pretty wooden house, with the woodbine -over the door, while the others went their way. Next morning, soon -after day-break too, I saw the lady peep forth from the window, -through the honeysuckles, looking, to my mind, far sweeter than they."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Well, then," said the woodman, after meditating for a moment, "go to -the lady I have mentioned; tell her what I have said, but not who said -it; and lead her to that house with as few followers as may be. There -she will hear more."</p> - -<p class="normal">"But how shall I get admittance to her?" demanded Sam. "Why, those -knaves, those grooms of hers, will look me all over from head to foot, -and then drive me from the door. How should a poor piper get speech of -a princess?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"You shall have the means," answered Boyd. "Wait here for a minute;" -and, retiring once more into his cottage, he was a short time absent. -When he returned, he bore a piece of written paper in hand, and gave -it to his messenger, saying. "There, take that to Sir William -Stanley's bailiff at Atherston. He will help to send you on the way."</p> - -<p class="normal">"A horse----believe him," said the piper, reading. "Does that mean he -is to believe a horse?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"No," replied the woodman, gravely, "to believe you, and give you a -horse. I knew not that you could read. Now look here," he continued, -giving the man a large gold cross, of what is called the Greek form, -set with five sardonix stones, and attached to two very beautifully -wrought chains, terminating in the heads of serpents. It seemed of -very ancient workmanship, but was so splendid as greatly to excite the -admiration of the poor piper.</p> - -<p class="normal">"There, cease gazing!" said the woodman; "but take that cross, and put -it up carefully, where it will be seen by no one, lest you should be -robbed and murdered for its sake. When you meet with the lady's -train--you will find her either in Tewksbury or some of the -neighbouring villages--ask to speak with her chief woman. Tell her to -take the cross to her mistress, and ask if she will purchase it. There -is money for your journey too. Methinks she will soon see you, when -she looks upon that cross."</p> - -<p class="normal">"But what if she do not?" asked Sam. "What then?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Return," replied the woodman, apparently greatly moved; and, without -further words, he was re-entering his cottage, when the piper called -after him aloud, saying:</p> - -<p class="normal">"Hark ye, hark ye, yet a minute, Master Boyd. There are two words to -the bargain, remember. If I undertake your errand, you must not spoil -mine."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Thine, man!" exclaimed the woodman, turning upon him sharply. "What -is thine?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"If I understood you rightly," said Sam, with a tone of deference, -"you said, or meant to say, that the secret of this dear lady's abode -was not to be told to the young lord as yet, but that it might be told -by and by. Now, I must be the teller; for I made the discovery."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I understand thee," said the woodman. "Fear not, thou shalt have the -gill measure of gold pieces, which is what thou carest about; and no -one shall take it from thee. Now, quick upon thy way; for time -presses, and events are hurrying forward which admit of no delay."</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h3>CHAPTER XL.</h3> -<br> - -<p class="normal">Midsummer days dawn early; and, even in that class of life where it is -not customary to pass the greater part of night in study or amusement, -it rarely happens that the rising sun finds many ready to rise with -him. The hour at which the labours of the abbey garden begun, in -summer time, was five o'clock. But long ere that hour had arrived, on -an early day of August, the door of one of the cottages on the abbey -green was opened, and a stout good-looking young man came forth, -taking great care to make his exit without noise. He looked around him -too, in the grey twilight; for the air was still thickened with the -shades of night. But every window had up its shutters of rude -boarding; and he passed along upon his way without fear. His step was -light, his countenance frank and good-humoured; and, though his -clothes were very coarse, they were good and clean, betokening a -labourer of the better class. He had soon crossed the green, passed -between the houses which had been left standing at the time of the -fire, and those which were in course of reconstruction; and then, -following the road down the hill, he reached the bank of the stream, -along which the troops had marched when coming to search for doctor -Morton. He did not, however, pursue the road towards Coleshill; but, -turning sharp away to the left, along a path through some meadows -watered by a small rivulet, he kept, between himself and the abbey, a -row of tall osiers, which screened the path from the hamlet. At the -distance of about half a mile was a coppice of some four or five -hundred acres; and from beyond that might be seen, with an interval of -two or three undulating fields, a much more extensive wood, though it -did not deserve the name of a forest. Towards the edge of the latter -the young man bent his steps, following still the little path, which -seemed rarely beaten by the busy tread of men's feet; for the green -blades of grass, though somewhat pressed down and crushed, by no means -suffered the soil to appear.</p> - -<p class="normal">Indeed, it was a wild and solitary scene, with just sufficient -cultivation visible to render the loneliness more sensible. The young -man, however, seemed to know all the paths right well; for though they -sometimes branched to the one hand, and sometimes to the other, and -sometimes could hardly be traced amongst the grass, yet he walked on -steadily, without any doubt or hesitation, and at length entered the -wood, near a spot where stood a tall red post.</p> - -<p class="normal">He had nearly a mile farther to go, after this point was reached; and -his course led him through many a wild glade and bowery avenue, till -at length he came to a spot highly cultivated, which seemed to have -been reclaimed from the wood. Immediately in front of him, and at the -other side of this patch of cultivated ground, was a neat wooden -house, of one story in height, but with glass windows, and even two -chimneys; great rarities in those days. The whole front was covered -with wild honeysuckle, rich in its unceasing blossoms; and every -window, as well as the door, looked like a pleasant bower. Approaching -with a light step, through a number of rose bushes, which were planted -in front of the house, the young man knocked hard at the door with his -knuckles; and in a moment after it was opened, and he went in.</p> - -<p class="normal">He did not see or remark, however, that he had been followed on his -track. When he first came forth from the house upon the green, there -had been protruded, beyond the angle of a new building on the opposite -side, a face very nearly black in hue, and surmounted by a turban. It -was instantly withdrawn; but when the young man hurried down towards -the stream, a figure, clad almost altogether in white, glided from -behind the new houses; and bending almost to the ground, in a position -which it would be difficult for European limbs to assume, the swarthy -watcher marked with a keen and flashing eye the course the youth took, -and, the moment he disappeared behind the osiers, darted down with the -speed of lightning, leaped a low enclosure, went straight through the -little rivulet, though it was more than knee-deep, and followed it -along its course, keeping the opposite bank to that which was pursued -by the person he was watching. When he had come within about ten yards -of the end of the row of osiers, he paused, and, bending his head, -listened attentively. A footfall met his ear. It was upon soft green -turf; but yet he heard it; and he remained perfectly still and -motionless for a minute or two, then waded through the rivulet once -more, and creeping gently in amongst the willows, gazed eagerly up the -side of the hill. The young man's figure was there before him, at -about fifty yards distance; and from that sheltered spot the other -watched him nearly to the edge of the wood. As soon as he disappeared, -his pursuer crept softly out, and, bending low, hurried up to the -slope where the figure had been lost to his eyes.</p> - -<p class="normal">There was a gentle dip in the ground at that point; but when the Arab -lifted his head, and gazed around, nothing was to be seen but the -green branches of the wood, about a couple of hundred yards in -advance, and three small paths, separating a few feet from where he -stood, and then leading amongst the trees at points considerably -distant from each other. Instantly, however, the Arab knelt down upon -the ground, and seemed to examine the grass upon the path, with a keen -and searching eye, and on his hands and knees advanced slowly to where -the point of separation came. There he paused, scrutinized that to the -right, and that to the left, and then that in the middle, following it -on, in the same position, for several yards. Then, starting on his -feet, he bounded forward along it like a deer, and entered the wood. -There the ground was sandy; and though the little paths were many and -intricate, a long line of foot prints guided him on aright till he -reached the little cultivated farm, just at the very moment the young -man was entering the house.</p> - -<p class="normal">Drawing back at once, the Arab concealed himself amongst the tangled -bushes, and slowly and quietly made an aperture, by pulling off the -leaves, so as to have the door of the building full in his sight. Then -kneeling down, with his arms crossed upon his chest, he kept his eyes, -motionless and hardly winking, upon the front of the house, for well -nigh twenty minutes. At the end of that time, the door opened, and the -young man came forth again, with what seemed a written paper in his -hand; and, behind him, the watcher saw a fair and well-remembered -face. The door was shut immediately again; and Ibn Ayoub bent himself -down, till he was completely covered by the bushes. A moment or two -after, the son of the abbey gardener passed by the place of the Arab's -concealment, and as soon as there had been time for him to make some -progress on his homeward way, Ibn Ayoub rose and followed slowly.</p> - -<p class="normal">Some four or five hours later in the day, Chartley sat in the small -chamber of an inn, with his head resting upon his hand, and his eyes -bent gloomily down. It was not a usual mood with him; but -disappointment after disappointment will sink the lightest heart. A -man feels a feather no weight, but yet he may be smothered with many.</p> - -<p class="normal">"There is Arden," he thought, as he heard the sound of horses' feet -below; "and he is happy. All consenting, all rejoicing, to think that -a fair penniless girl has won the heart of one of the richest and -noblest men in England; while I--as careless to the full of money or -state as he, am made wretched because this sweet Iola is an heiress. -Curse on this wealth! Would there were none of it; we should all be -happier then. But am I envious? That is not right. Well, well, I -cannot help it. He must not see it, however. Well, Arden, what news? -You have of course seen Constance. Has she had any tidings?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Yes, as before," said Arden; "a few words found on her table. 'Tell -him I am well, and safe,' so ran the writing; 'bid him be of good -heart. I will keep my word, and send if there be danger.' That was -all, but it was in her own writing. Methinks, Chartley, it were as -well to give up this pertinacious search. If you discover her, may it -not draw other eyes too upon her place of refuge? The king, depend -upon it, has us closely watched."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I do not think it," answered Chartley; "and, besides, how can I feel -easy, not knowing in what direction she may need my aid, When she does -need it? One mistake might ruin all our hopes. Oh, could I but -discover her, Arden, my tongue would soon find words to win her to -instant flight, as the only means of safety--as the only means of -insuring that she is not forced into this loathed marriage, and I am -not driven to cut Fulmer's throat or my own. Ha, Ibn Ayoub, where hast -thou been all day?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"On my lord's business," said the Arab, and was silent again, seating -himself quietly on the floor in the corner of the room; a custom which -he had whenever he wished to talk with his master privately. On these -occasions, nothing would induce him to speak openly; for, though a -slave, Ibn Ayoub had a will of his own end exercised it; and Chartley -well knew that it was in vain to bid him give his tidings, or ask his -question in Arden's presence. The good knight, however, soon retired -to his own chamber; and Chartley, fixing his eyes upon the Arab, who -remained perfectly silent, demanded what he had been doing.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Seeking that which is lost," replied the slave, rising and standing -before his master.</p> - -<p class="normal">"And hast thou found it?" asked Chartley, with his heart beating; for -there was an air of grave importance about the man, from which he, who -had known him well for some three or four years, argued a -consciousness of success.</p> - -<p class="normal">"I have, my lord," replied Ibn Ayoub. "Thou once didst pour balm into -my wounds, and hold cool water to my thirsty lips. I can now do the -same for thee. She whom thou hast lost is found. I heard thee -inquiring how it could be, that the lady sent letters to the other -lady. From what I had seen, at the castle of the old man, I guessed -the secret messenger, tracked him, and saw the lady's face. Now, thou -can'st go thither when thou wilt?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Did she see thee, Ibn Ayoub?" demanded Chartley, adding, in the same -breath, "What did she say?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"She saw me not," replied the Arab. "I was hidden from her sight."</p> - -<p class="normal">Farther explanations ensued; but, as so often happens with every man -in the course of life, the first step thus taken in advance brought -its doubts and difficulties with it. But Chartley was impetuous, and -he felt it impossible to refrain. As to telling him the name of the -place where Iola had found refuge, or describing it, so that he -himself could judge exactly where it was, that the Arab could not do; -but he offered to guide his lord thither, whenever he pleased, -averring truly that he had noted every step of the way so well he -could make no mistake.</p> - -<p class="normal">"How far?" demanded Chartley.</p> - -<p class="normal">"One hour, with fleet horses," answered the man.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Well, then, to-morrow at daybreak, we will set out," replied his -master. "Say nought to any one, but have our horses prepared, and we -will away with the first ray of dawn."</p> - -<p class="normal">This course was followed; and, while Arden was still quietly sleeping -in his bed, Chartley and the Arab were on their way towards the house -of the old franklin, Elias Ames. With the certainty of a dog tracking -a deer, Ibn Ayoub led his master along every step of the way which the -gardener's son had pursued on the preceding day, except in as much as -he circled round the foot of the little rise on which the abbey stood, -and reached the end of the row of osiers by crossing the meadows. The -whole journey occupied as near as possible an hour; and at the end of -that time Chartley had the franklin's house, and the cultivated land -around it, before him.</p> - -<p class="normal">"There," said Ibn Ayoub, pointing with his hand. "She dwells there."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Well then," said Chartley, springing to the ground, "lead the horses -in amongst the trees, where they cannot be seen. I will give the -signal when I come out. She may be angry," he thought; "but women -little know, I believe, the eager impatience which a man who loves -truly feels to see again the lady of his heart, after a long absence."</p> - -<p class="normal">Thus saying, he walked along the path, and approached the house. The -windows were all closed with their wooden shutters; and he circled it -all round, without finding means of entrance.</p> - -<p class="normal">"It may alarm her, if I rouse the house suddenly," he thought; and, -retreating to the edge of the wood again, he remained watching for -about half an hour longer. Then the old man himself and a stout woman -servant came forth from the door, and took down the boards from the -windows; and when that was done, the good franklin walked away down a -little dell to the right, as if to superintend his own affairs for the -day. Chartley waited till he was gone; and by that time the woman had -re-entered the house; but he heard, or fancied he heard, the tones of -a sweet well-known voice speaking to her as she went in. He then -crossed the space between, hesitated for a moment as to whether he -should knock at the door or not, but at length laid his hand upon the -latch, and opened it without farther ceremony.</p> - -<p class="normal">The passages in the house formed a cross, dividing it into four equal -parts. Before him, all was vacant; and he could see clear through, by -a door at the back, into a little orchard behind; but he heard a -woman's voice speaking on the left, and now he was sure that she was -answered in the tones of Iola. Walking on then, he turned up the -passage on that side, and saw the woman servant coming forth from the -door of a room. She closed the door suddenly behind her, when she -beheld a man in the passage, and demanded sharply what he wanted.</p> - -<p class="normal">"I wish to speak with the lady in that room," replied Chartley. "When -she knows who it is, she will see me, I am sure."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Nonsense, nonsense, young man," replied the woman. "There is no lady -there. That is a store room."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Then your stores speak, my good woman," answered Chartley; "for I -heard a voice which I know right well talking to you."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Go away, go away," replied the woman, who, in the dark passage where -Chartley stood, could not see his dress, or judge of his station. "Go -away, or I will call in the men to make you."</p> - -<p class="normal">"All the men in the neighbourhood would not make me," answered -Chartley aloud. "At least, not till I see that lady. Tell her it is -Lord Chartley. If she bids me go, I will."</p> - -<p class="normal">The words had scarcely passed his lips, when the door through which -the woman had just passed was thrown open, light suddenly streamed -into the passage, and Iola herself ran out, exclaiming: "Chartley, is -that you? Nay, nay, you are rash indeed. You should not have come."</p> - -<p class="normal">"But, now I have come, you will not bid me go," said Chartley, taking -her hand, and kissing it. He put some restraint upon himself to keep -his lips from hers.</p> - -<p class="normal">"I cannot bid you go at once," answered Iola, bending her eyes down, -with the colour rising in her cheek; "but you must go soon, and not -return again, unless I send."</p> - -<p class="normal">"This is hard," answered Chartley; "but still, I shall not feel it so -much now I know where you are, and can hover round the neighbourhood, -like a dove over its nest, watching the treasure of its love."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Nay, Chartley, you are no dove," answered Iola, with a smile. "Open -that other door, Catherine, and watch well from the windows that no -one approaches. Come in hither, Chartley," she continued, as the woman -opened the door of a room opposite to that from which she had come. -"Here is my little hall. No grand reception room, yet sweet and -pleasant."</p> - -<p class="normal">A floor of dried and hard beaten clay, a low roof with all the rafters -shown, walls covered with mere whitewash, an unpolished oaken table, -and seats of wood, did not make the room seem less bright and sweet to -Chartley when Iola was there. She herself was dressed as a mere -cottage girl, and doubtless, when the mantle and hood, then worn in -the middle and lower ranks of life, were added, an unobserving eye -might hardly have recognized her; but she did not look less lovely to -the eyes of him who sat beside her.</p> - -<p class="normal">They were sweet, sweet moments which those two passed together; and, -perchance, it were hardly fair to tell all that they said and did. -Iola owned that it was sweet to see him once again, after so long a -separation and so much anxiety and care; but yet she told him -earnestly that he must not come again.</p> - -<p class="normal">"A few days now," she said, "must determine everything. There are -rumours busy in the land, Chartley, and which reach even my ears, that -there will be a fresh struggle for the throne. Let us not call the -eyes of the watchful king upon us, nor by any rash act run the risk of -falling into his power. I am told that he has spies in every -direction--even here; and I feel by no means sure that he has not -discovered more than we could wish. But one thing is certain, that, if -we wait till he finds himself assailed upon the throne, the hurry and -confusion which must prevail will give us opportunities which we do -not now possess. Then, Chartley, I will redeem my plighted word to -you, and, whenever I know the moment, will let you hear, and stake the -happiness of my life upon your faith and truth. But, even then, I must -make some conditions."</p> - -<p class="normal">Chartley mused; and Iola thought it was the word "conditions" which -surprised and made him thoughtful; but it was not so.</p> - -<p class="normal">"These reasonings on the passing events must have been prompted to -her," he thought. "They are not those of Iola herself."</p> - -<p class="normal">She went on, however, under the impression I have stated, and that in -a gayer tone, because she thought the stipulations she was going to -make were not likely to be refused.</p> - -<p class="normal">"My conditions are very hard ones," she said, "and may well plunge you -in a reverie, noble lord. They are that, when I am your wife, I may be -never asked, why I go not to confession--"</p> - -<p class="normal">She looked up in his face with a smile, and added:</p> - -<p class="normal">"The truth is, I have so many and such heinous sins, that I fear to -confess to the priest, lest I should not be able, or willing, to -perform the penance."</p> - -<p class="normal">Chartley laughed, saying: "You shall confess them all to me, dear one; -and I shall only thank Heaven that the secrets of your heart are told -to none but your husband and your God."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Oh, you are a heretic, Chartley!" cried Iola, with a gay and meaning -look in his face. "So men would think you, at least, if they heard -such words. Perhaps I may think differently. Moreover, you shall not -call me to account if I neglect some other ceremonial parts of what we -are taught to believe religious duties."</p> - -<p class="normal">Now she looked somewhat timidly at him, as if she did not know how far -she could venture to go; and Chartley's face had certainly become -graver than she had ever seen it. He pressed her hand tenderly between -his own, however, and said, "Dear Iola, I will covenant generally with -you, in no degree to meddle with such things. Your words may surprise -me and take me unaware; but this I promise, that I will interfere in -nought which concerns your religious belief; for I think I understand -you, though how all this has come about I cannot, and do not, divine. -One thing, however, my Iola, may be decided upon between us at once. -If you are searching for truth, let me search with you. Let our minds -be bent together to the same great object; but, at the same time, for -our own sakes, and each for the sake of the other, let us be careful -in all these matters; for I have already arrived at this conclusion, -that those who rule in every spiritual matter would shut out light -from us, and bar the way with the faggot, and the cord, and the sword, -against all who do seek for truth."</p> - -<p class="normal">A look of bright, almost angelic, joy had come upon Iola's countenance -as he spoke; and she answered in a low but solemn tone:</p> - -<p class="normal">"I have found it, Chartley--that truth which you mention."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Where?" asked Chartley, eagerly.</p> - -<p class="normal">"I will show you," she replied, "when, with my husband by my side, I -can pour out to him, pledged and plighted to me for ever, all the -thoughts of a heart which shall never be opened to any other mortal -being. Your words, Chartley, have been to me a blessing and an -assurance. Oh, God, I thank thee. My last fear and doubt are removed! -Now let us talk of other things; for you must go indeed. Tell me where -you will fix your abode for the next few days. Then I shall not need -to watch you; for I have been obliged to place spies upon you, in -order to know where to find you in case of need."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I will fix my quarters at Atherston," answered Chartley. "But are you -a little queen, that you have spies at will, and messengers over all -the land, with castle gates flying open before you, and means of -travelling invisible to human eyes. How was it, in Heaven's name, you -escaped from Chidlow castle; for I have heard nothing more than the -mere assurance which you sent Constance the day after, that you were -in safety."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I must not tell you all," answered Iola, gravely, "at least, not yet, -Chartley; but this much I may say, though it will sound very strange -to your ears, that there are many, very many--ay, thousands upon -thousands--of people in this land, all linked together by ties the -most sacred, who have been forced, by long and bitter persecutions, to -establish means of communicating with each other, and of aiding and -assisting each other in time of need. They are to be found in the -courts of princes, in the mart, the church, and the camp; but they are -known only to each other, and not always even that. They are innocent -of all offence, peaceable, blameless; yet, if they be discovered, -death is the punishment for the mere thoughts of the mind. I tell you -they are many, Chartley. They are increasing daily, in silence and in -secret; but the time will come, and that ere long, when their voice -will be heard, aloud and strong; and no man shall dare to bid it -cease. To them I owe much help. But now indeed we must part."</p> - -<p class="normal">The parting lasted well nigh as long as the interview; and, though it -had its pain, yet Chartley went with a happier heart, and with hope -and expectation once more burning as bright as ever.</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h3>CHAPTER XLI.</h3> -<br> - -<p class="normal">In a large room, of the convent of Black Nuns, near Tewksbury, with a -vaulted roof and one window at the farther end, seated at a small -table, and with an open parchment book upon it, was the Princess Mary -or Margaret of Scotland--for she is occasionally called in history by -both those names. She was diligently examining the pages of the -volume, in which seemed to be written a number of names, with comments -attached to them, in the margin, in a different coloured ink. On the -opposite side of the table stood an elderly man in the garb of a monk, -who remained without speaking, and with his eyes fixed calmly upon the -princess, apparently not at all comprehending the object of her -search.</p> - -<p class="normal">At length, when she had run her eye and her finger down the whole line -of names upon every page, pausing for a moment here and there, to -examine the observations attached to some particular entry, the -princess raised her eyes to the old man's face, saying--</p> - -<p class="normal">"And these are all the men of note, you are sure, good father, who -fell at Tewksbury?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"All who are buried here," replied the monk. "There were some others, -whose names you will find, if you turn over two pages, who were borne -away to rest elsewhere. They were not many; for their friends did not -like to come forward and claim them, for fear of being compromised in -what was called the treason. So all that were not claimed were buried -here, and the rest, as I said, removed."</p> - -<p class="normal">Mary turned over to the page which he mentioned, and found some twelve -or fourteen other names, which, to her at least, were totally without -interest. She then closed the book, and gave it to the monk, saying "I -thank you much, good father. There is something to benefit your -convent, and pay masses for the souls of those who fell."</p> - -<p class="normal">The old man called down a blessing on her head, and walked slowly -along to the end of the old vaulted room, in order to depart, passing -a gay and sunny-looking girl as he did so. She advanced with a light -step from the door, towards the princess's chair, looking, as she went -by the old man in his sober grey gown, like spring by the side of -winter; and, when she came near the lady, she said, holding up a small -packet in her hand--</p> - -<p class="normal">"Here is a curious thing, your highness, which has just been shown to -me by an extraordinary sort of man. He wishes you to buy it; and in -good truth it is not dear. I never saw anything more beautiful."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I am not in the mood for buying gewgaws, child," replied the -princess. "Well, show it to me, not that I shall purchase it; for of -that there is little chance."</p> - -<p class="normal">The young lady immediately advanced, and placed in her hand a golden -cross, ornamented with sardonix stones, Mary hardly looking at it till -she had received it fully, her mind being probably busy with what had -just been passing. When her eyes at length fixed on it, however, her -countenance underwent a strange and rapid change. Her cheek grew pale, -her beautiful eyes almost started from their sockets, and with a low -cry, as if of pain and surprise, she sank back into her chair.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Good Heaven, what is the matter, lady?" exclaimed the girl. "Your -highness is faint. Let me fly for help."</p> - -<p class="normal">But Mary waved her hand for silence, covered her eyes for a moment, -and then bending down her head over the cross, seemed to examine it -attentively. But the girl, who stood by her side, saw clearly tears -drop rapidly from her eyes upon the trinket.</p> - -<p class="normal">The moment after, the princess dashed the drops away, and, turning to -her attendant with a face full of eagerness, demanded:</p> - -<p class="normal">"Where is the man? Bring him hither instantly."</p> - -<p class="normal">The changes of expression in her countenance had been so -lightning-like, so rapid, that the girl stood for a moment like one -bewildered, but then, at an impatient gesture of the princess, hurried -from the room. At the end of a minute or two she returned, followed by -the piper, somewhat better clothed than usual, but still bearing -evident signs of his class, if not of his profession, about him. The -princess fixed her eyes upon his face, with a keen, penetrating, -inquiring look, as if she would have searched his soul, and then said, -turning to the girl who had accompanied him into the room: "Retire."</p> - -<p class="normal">Still, after the attendant was gone, Mary continued to gaze upon the -man before her in silence. It seemed as if she wished, before she -spoke, to read something of his nature and his character from his -looks. At length, in a low and tremulous but yet distinct voice, she -asked:</p> - -<p class="normal">"Where got you this cross?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"That I must not say, lady," replied the piper. "Are you the princess -Mary of Scotland?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"I am," she answered. "Must not say?--Good faith, but you must say! -This cross is mine; and I will know how you possessed yourself of it."</p> - -<p class="normal">"If you be the princess Mary of Scotland, and that cross be yours," -replied the piper, who was now quite sober, and had all his wits about -him, "I was bid to tell you that the fate of the person you seek for -may still be heard of near the abbey of St. Clare of Atherston. You -may keep the cross without payment, for in reality it was sent to you -as a token."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Keep it," cried the princess, pressing it to her bosom, "that I will! -I will never part with it more. Payment! Here, hold out your hand;" -and, half emptying her purse into it, she added: "Had you brought me a -king's crown, you had brought me nothing half so precious." Then, -leaning her brow upon her fair hands, she fell into a long deep train -of thought, which, perhaps, led her far away, to early days, and -scenes of youthful joy and happiness, while hope, and love, and -ignorance of ill, the guardian angels of youth's paradise, watched -round her path and round her bed. At length, She seemed to tear -herself away from the visions of memory; and looking up, she said, in -a slow and somewhat sad voice--</p> - -<p class="normal">"St. Clare of Atherston. Ay, it was near there, at Atherston moor. -But, how can that be? I have watched, and enquired, and examined, and -seen with mine own eyes; and there was no trace."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I cannot tell your highness how it can be," replied the messenger; -"for I know little or nothing; and guesses are often bad guides. But -this I can do. I can lead you to one who can give you all the tidings -you desire."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Ha!" cried the princess, starting up. "Let us go. Let us go at once. I -will give instant orders."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Nay, sweet lady," answered the piper. "In good sooth, my horse must -have some time for rest; and my old bones are weary too; for I have -had scanty fare and long riding."</p> - -<p class="normal">"You shall have refreshment," said the princess. "I would not be -unmerciful, even in my impatience; but yet we must set out to-night. I -will not lay my head upon a pillow till I am upon the way. Now tell -me, before I send you to get food and rest, who is the person to whom -you take me?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Nay, that I know not," replied Sam. "I have given my message as I -received it. I know no more."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Now this is very strange," exclaimed Mary, "and raises doubts. I know -not that I have injured any one, or that there is any who should wish -to do me wrong; but yet I have found that men will wrong each other -full often without a cause, sometimes without an object. Yet this -cross, this cross! I will go, whatever befall. This cannot lie or -cheat. I will go. But one thing at all events you can tell me. Whither -are you going to lead me. You must know the place, if not the person."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Ay, that I can tell, and may tell," replied Sam. "It is to the house -of a poor honest Franklin, who labours his own land, in the heart of -an old wood. A quiet and a secret place it is, nearly half way 'twixt -Atherston and St. Clare. The man is a good and honest man too, lady, -of more than seventy years of age, who lives in great retirement, -rarely seen but once in every summer month at Atherston market, where -he sells his corn and sheep; and when they are sold, he goes back upon -his way, holding but little talk with any one."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Seventy years of age," said the princess, thoughtfully. "Nay, that -cannot be then."</p> - -<p class="normal">"But indeed it is, lady," replied the piper, mistaking her meaning; -"for I have known him twenty years myself and more, and have seen his -hair grow grizzled grey, and then as white as snow."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Did you ever know or hear," demanded the princess, "of a dying or -wounded knight being carried thither, from any of the last combats -that took place between Lancaster and York--I mean about the time of -Tewksbury?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"No," replied Sam; "but I was lying ill then, being hurt with a pike -at Barnet, and could not walk for many a month."</p> - -<p class="normal">"And you can tell no more?" asked the princess.</p> - -<p class="normal">"No, nothing more," he answered, "but that there you will have the -tidings which you seek, as surely as you see that cross in your hand."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Come of it what will, I will go," said the princess. "But which is -the safest road? for it is strongly rumoured here, that the earl of -Richmond has landed somewhere on the coast, and that armies are -gathering fast to meet him. We might be stopped."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Oh no, all is quiet in this part of the land," replied the other; -"and we can easily go by Evesham and Coventry. I heard all the news -as I journeyed on. The earl, they say, has indeed landed in the far -parts of Wales; but his force is very small, and not likely to stand -against Sir Walter Herbert who commands there. A mere scum of that -ever-boiling pot called France, with scattered and tattered -gabardines, lean and hungry as wolves."</p> - -<p class="normal">"They may be found as fierce as wolves," said the princess. "But it -matters not. I will go, even should they be fighting in the midst of -the road. Now, good man, you shall have food, and your horse too. I -give you till four o'clock--time enough for rest. Be you ready; and, -if you lead me aright, you shall have further recompense."</p> - -<p class="normal">Her impatience somewhat outran the clock. She was on horseback with -her train, some minutes before four; and, ere they paused for the -night, they reached the small town of Evesham. The next day brought -them to Coventry, and thence a short day's journey remained to -Atherston. They arrived in the evening; but still there were two or -three hours of light; and as soon as the princess had entered the -small inn, to which she had sent forward harbingers, she ordered her -guide to be called, and told him that in half an hour she would be -ready to set out.</p> - -<p class="normal">"The place cannot be far," she said, "for I remember the road well; -and 'tis not a two hours' ride hence to St. Clare."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Were it not better to wait till morning?" demanded Sam, with a look -of some doubt. "It will take you well nigh an hour and a half to reach -the place we are going to, and--"</p> - -<p class="normal">"And what?" demanded Mary, seeing the man pause and hesitate.</p> - -<p class="normal">"I was going to say," replied Sam, "that you must take but two -attendants with you--men to hold the horses; and it might be as well -to wait till morning, as I hear troops are gathering fast, and tending -towards Nottingham, so that 'tis better to ride by daylight."</p> - -<p class="normal">Mary gazed at him with some suspicions rising again in her mind; but -yet the very wish to travel by daylight seemed to speak honesty of -purpose.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Was that what the man told you, whom I saw speaking to you at the -door?" she asked.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Yes," replied Sam. "He told me there were troops moving about in all -directions."</p> - -<p class="normal">"And why must I have only two men with me?" she demanded.</p> - -<p class="normal">"I know not," replied the piper. "So I am told. But, if you have any -fears, I will remain in the hands of your men, while you go in. They -can easily drive a sword through me, if any evil happens to you; but I -only say it is better to go in the morning, lest we should meet any of -the roving bands which always flock to the gathering of armies. Be it, -however, as you please."</p> - -<p class="normal">Mary thought for two or three moments, but then rose, saying--</p> - -<p class="normal">"I will go, and at once. I cannot rest in uncertainty. Let them bring -forth the horses as soon as they are fed. We will ride quick, and make -the way short."</p> - -<p class="normal">From Atherston, for about half a mile, the little party pursued the -highway, till shortly after crossing the little river Anker, from the -banks of which they turned through lanes and by-paths, till they came -to a piece of sloping ground, where two hills crossed each other with -a low dell between them. A small stream ran in the valley; and beyond -the opposite slope, towards the north west, extended a considerable -mass of wood-land, over which were seen, rising at the distance of -five or six miles, the ruined walls and towers of the old castle near -St. Clare. The sun was already on the horizon, and the spot over which -they rode was in shadow; but the sky was beautifully clear, and the -golden light of the setting sun caught the high distant ruins, and the -young trees upon the hill on which it stood.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Here," said the piper, who was riding beside Mary to show her the -way, "here was fought the last skirmish of the war. It was one of the -most bloody too; for little quarter was given, and many a brave -soldier and noble gentleman fell here."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I know it well," said Mary, with her eyes full of tears. "I have been -here to weep before now. Oh, that my eyes could pierce those green -grassy mounds, and know who sleeps beneath."</p> - -<p class="normal">"They were not all buried here," said Sam, in a low tone. "Some were -buried at the abbey, and some at Atherston. Those were the knights and -captains. The common soldiers lie here."</p> - -<p class="normal">Mary rode on in silence; and more than once she wiped the tears from -her eyes. A mile farther brought them to the wood; but from this side -the distance to the franklin's house was farther; and the last quarter -of a mile was ridden in twilight. At length, however, while they could -still see, they came in sight of the low house, with its single story, -and the cultivated ground around it; and pointing with his hand, the -piper said, in a low voice--</p> - -<p class="normal">"That is the house. Now you must go forward alone, lady; and when you -reach the door knock hard with your hand, and they will give you -admission. Ask to see the lady."</p> - -<p class="normal">"The lady!" said Mary, in a tone of surprise.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Yes," replied her guide, "the lady. I will stay here with the horses, -in the hands of your servants. There you will get the tidings which -you have long sought."</p> - -<p class="normal">The lady dismounted, and, bidding the servants wait, walked along the -little path. They could see her approach the house, and knock with her -hand at the door. It was opened instantly, and she disappeared.</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h3>CHAPTER XLII.</h3> -<br> - -<p class="normal">An old man, with a long white beard, presented himself before the -princess countess of Arran, almost the moment after she had knocked, -and, in answer to her demand to see the lady, simply said, "Follow -me," and led the way along the passage. Her heart beat; her brain -seemed giddy; her whole frame was agitated; but she went on; and, at -the end of a step or two, her guide opened a door, and held it in his -hand, till she had entered. Then closing it he retired.</p> - -<p class="normal">The sun, as I have said, had sunk; but the twilight was clear, and the -windows of the room looked towards the west, where lingered still the -rosy hues of the setting sun. The room was filled with a sort of hazy -purple air, and the objects which it contained, though shadowy and -somewhat indistinct, could still be seen clearly enough. Standing not -far from one of the windows, with the light background of the sky -behind her, so that her features were not discernible, the princess -Mary beheld the beautiful form of a girl, apparently eighteen or -nineteen years of age. As the rays passing from behind glanced on the -rich satin of her robe, and the gold lace that fringed the bodice, it -was evident to Mary that the person before her was dressed in the -gorgeous habiliments of the court of of that time. She could see -nothing more at the first moment, but as the girl advanced towards -her, the face was slightly turned towards the window, and the fine -chiselled features were beheld in profile, showing at once, how -beautiful they must be when the light of day displayed them more -fully.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Welcome, lady," said the sweet tones of Iola, the music of her voice -thrilling upon the ear of the princess, like the notes of some -delicate instrument, although there was much emotion in those tones. -"You have come somewhat sooner than I expected. I presume I speak to -the princess Mary."</p> - -<p class="normal">"The same, my child," replied the lady, taking her hand, which Iola -had partly offered. "This is a strange meeting; and you tremble more -than I do, though I am told that from your voice I shall hear tidings -which, whatever be their especial nature, may well shake and agitate -my heart and frame."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I am not wont to be so weak," said Iola; "nor to fear, nor to -hesitate; but yet I cannot help it at this moment. Let us sit down for -a while, and speak of other things, so that these emotions may pass -away."</p> - -<p class="normal">"They will but increase by delay," replied Mary; "and I am eager to -hear from your lips, or indeed from any lips, those tidings which to -me are as the words of Fate. Speak, then, dear child, speak at once, -and tell me what you know."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Nay, lady," said Iola, in a very grave and even melancholy tone, -withdrawing her hand from that of the princess; "I have questions to -ask as well as you; and they must be answered, before my lips are -unsealed."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Nay, this is cruel," said the princess Mary, "to torture me with -delay, when the sight of that cross, the gift of early pure affection, -to him I loved the best, and this mysterious journey, and this strange -meeting, have raised my expectations--oh, that I dared say my hopes to -the highest point--it is cruel indeed."</p> - -<p class="normal">"No, not cruel," answered Iola. "Could the dead see all the actions -of the living, would the living dare to meet the dead? I have a -hard and painful task to perform, and I must perform it. Yet, dear -lady, I would do it with all gentleness, for I have to ask painful -questions--questions which, if my heart tell me true, may raise anger -and indignation, as well as cause pain and sorrow."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Speak then, speak then," said Mary, impatiently. "Let them be quickly -over."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Well, then, as it must be so," said Iola, "let me first say, I know -the early history well, the marriage of the princess Mary to the earl -of Arran, her brother's subject and friend, the advantage which base -enemies took of his absence in Denmark, in his sovereign's service, to -ruin his father and his uncle, to seize his estates, forfeit his -honours, and blast his name--a name on which the voice of calumny -never breathed till then."</p> - -<p class="normal">Mary sank into a seat and covered her eyes with her hands; but Iola -went on, seeming to hurry her words to get over her painful task with -speed.</p> - -<p class="normal">"I know, too," she said, "the generous devotion of the princess, that -she fled in disguise from her brother's court, to warn her husband of -his danger, when he returned from his successful embassy, bringing -with him his sovereign's royal bride; I know that she sought his fleet -in a poor skiff, and fled with him into exile and poverty; I know that -she only returned to her own land, after years of exile, on the -delusive promise that her petition and submission would recover his -estates and honours, for him she loved. Hitherto, all is clear; but, -now comes the question--Lady, forgive me," she continued, taking -Mary's hand, and kissing it; "but I must pain you."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Speak, dear child, speak," said the princess. "There is nought in my -whole life, that I am not ready to tell here or anywhere."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Well, then," said Iola, with a sigh; "did the princess Mary, when her -husband was doing his knightly devoir here on this English ground, in -behalf of the house which had befriended him and his, did she consent -to a divorce from her once-loved lord, and----"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Never, never, never!" cried the princess, starting from her seat, -"never, by word or deed. What, has that dark tale come hither too? -'Twas done without my consent or knowledge; and, when done, I raised -my voice and wrote my protest against it. They told me he was dead. -They told me that he fell there, on Atherston moor--fell, as he lived, -in noble deeds and gallant self-devotion."</p> - -<p class="normal">"And then, hearing of his death," said Iola, in a voice sunk to the -lowest tone with emotion; "the princess married James, Lord Hamilton."</p> - -<p class="normal">"'Tis false!" exclaimed Mary, vehemently; and then, clasping Iola's -hand in her own, she added: "Strange, mysterious girl, how is it that -you, who know so much, do not know more? Hamilton was kind. He sought -my noble husband as a brother, spoke in his favour to the king, raised -his voice with mine; and, when at length the news of his death came, -my brother and my sovereign signed a contract of marriage on my -behalf, between him and me, and in his bounty gave lands and lordships -to Lord Hamilton and the Princess Mary, his wife. They laid the -contract before me, and I tore it and scattered it to the winds--for I -had doubts," she added, in a low thoughtful voice. "I saw couriers -going and coming to and from England, whose tidings were concealed -from me; and, I had doubts--I have still doubts--that he died then. -Now, I am sure he is dead, or they would not give me liberty to roam -and seek his burial-place; for, ever since that day, when I tore the -contract before my brother's face, in name I have been free, in truth -a prisoner. I had but one faithful servant, whom I could trust. He, -indeed, once deceived me, because he was himself deceived. He told me -that my husband was dead in Denmark; and when we found, from certain -intelligence, that he was here in England, warring for the house of -Lancaster, the poor man was more thunderstruck than I was, for I had -not believed the tale. Oh, how the heart clings to hope--how it clasps -the faded flower, when even the root is withered. Still, still, till -the end I hoped! With what tears I watered my pillow! With what -prayers I wearied Heaven. Although I saw letters telling plainly that -he died, sword in hand, on Atherston moor, I would not believe, till -they told me at length, but a few months since, that, if I pleased, I -might come and seek him myself. But, oh, dear child, that hope which I -so fondly clung to would become a horror and a terror, if I could -believe that my dear, my noble Arran, had been lingering on here, -living, and yet doubting of my faith and truth. I know what his noble -mind would have felt; I know how his kind and generous heart would -have been wrung; I know the black despair into which he would have -fallen. But it cannot be. I will not believe it. He would have -written; he would have sent; he would have found some means to -re-assure and comfort me. Now, then, I have answered all. Tell me, -tell me, I beseech you, how died my husband? Where have they laid him? -But you are weeping, my poor child."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Stay a moment," said Iola, her voice half choked with sobs. "I shall -recover in a minute. Then I will tell you all;" and, breaking away -from her, she, quitted the room suddenly.</p> - -<p class="normal">With a foot of light, Iola trod the passage nearly to the end, and -opened a door, from which immediately a light streamed forth.</p> - -<p class="normal">Sitting at a table underneath a burning sconce, with his arms resting -on the board, and his forehead on his arms, was a tall and powerful -man, dressed in the garments of a nobleman of high rank, somewhat -antiquated indeed in point of fashion, but still rich and in good -taste. He seemed not to hear Iola's foot; for he moved not, although -the stillness of his figure was broken by the heaving of his chest -with a long, deep, gasping sigh. She laid her hand upon his arm, -saying:</p> - -<p class="normal">"Look up, look up. Sunshine has come again."</p> - -<p class="normal">He raised his head with a start; and the countenance before her was -that of Boyd the woodman.</p> - -<p class="normal">With that eager grace so charming to see but indescribable in words, -Iola caught his hand and kissed it, as he gazed upon her with a look -of doubt and wonder.</p> - -<p class="normal">"It is all false," she cried, "all utterly false! She is yours--has -been yours always. True, through wrong, and persecution, and deceit, -she is yours still--yours only."</p> - -<p class="normal">"False," cried Boyd. "False? How can it be false? With my own eyes I -saw the announcement of his sister's marriage to James Hamilton, in -the king's own hand."</p> - -<p class="normal">"He signed the contract," cried Iola, "without her consent; but she -tore the contract, and refused to ratify it."</p> - -<p class="normal">"But my letters, my unanswered letters?" said Boyd.</p> - -<p class="normal">"She has been watched and guarded, surrounded by spies and deceivers," -exclaimed Iola, eagerly. "Hear all I have to tell you. Much may even -then remain to be explained, but, believe me, oh, believe me, all will -be explained clearly and with ease."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I know that one traitor, that John Radnor, was bought to tell her I -was dead, when not ten days before he had spoken to me--me, ever his -kind and generous lord--and knew that I was safe and well. I saw the -proof of the villain's treachery; and I slew him; but, oh, I cannot -think that there are many such. Yet they have been fiends of hell -indeed; for torture, such as the damned undergo, were not more than -they have fixed on me, by making me think my Mary, my beautiful, my -devoted, false to him she loved."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Oh, she was never false," cried Iola. "They thought to cheat her to -her own despair, by tales of your death; but the instinct of true love -taught her to doubt, till she had seen your tomb with her own eyes."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I will go to her. I will go to her," cried the earl of Arran, rising -up, and taking a step or two towards the door. But there he paused, -and asked, "Does she still believe me dead?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"She does," replied Iola, "though perhaps a spark of hope is kindled."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Go and fan it into flame," replied the earl, "gently, gently, Iola. I -will bear the delay. Yet come as soon as ever she can bear to see me. -Do it speedily, dear girl, but yet not rashly."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I will be careful. I will be very careful," said Iola; and, hurrying -away, she returned to the chamber where she had left the Princess -Mary, bearing a light with her.</p> - -<p class="normal">"You have been long, my child," said the Princess; "but your young -heart knows not the anguish of mine; and that fair face speaks no -unkindness."</p> - -<p class="normal">"It would speak falsely, did it do so," replied Iola. "Methinks the -power to give joy and reawaken hope were the brightest prerogative -that man could obtain from Heaven. And now be seated, dear lady; and I -will sit on this stool at your feet, and tell you a tale, woven into -which will be answers to all that you could question, with many a -comfort too, and a balm for a crushed and wounded heart."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Angel," cried the princess, drawing her to her and kissing her brow; -"you look and speak like one of Heaven's comforting spirits."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Listen then," said Lola. "'Tis more than ten years ago that a party -of the lords of Lancaster, led by the gallant earl of Arran, as the -most experienced of the troop, hastened across this country to join -queen Margaret's force at Tewksbury. The news of Barnet had vaguely -reached them; but still they hurried on in the direction which the -retreating army had taken. The main body of their little force -remained for the night on the green at St. Clare. I remember it well, -though I was then but a child of eight years old; for the earl of -Arran came to the Abbey, and I saw him there in his glittering armour. -He came on here himself, with several other gentlemen, and lodged for -the night at this house; for he had learned that a superior body of -troops was on the way to cut him off, in the neighbourhood of -Atherston. The old man whom you saw but now tried to persuade him to -retreat; but his high courage and his good faith led him on; and, on -the following day, he encountered the enemy on the moor, and, for -nearly two hours, made his ground good against a force treble his own -numbers. At length, however, in a strong effort to break through, -having already received an arrow in the arm and a wound in the head, -he was cast from his horse by a lance which pierced through and -through his corslet. The troops then fled, and the day was lost."</p> - -<p class="normal">Iola's voice trembled as she spoke, and Mary bent down her head upon -her hands and wept.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Be comforted," said the young girl, taking the princess's hand, and -gazing up towards her. "Hear me out; for there is comfort yet."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Ha!" exclaimed Mary, suddenly lifting her head. "Was he not slain -then--was he not slain?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Hear me to the end," said Iola, "and hear me calmly. The old man you -saw but now had been a follower of the house of Lancaster. He was -interested too in that noble lord; and when he beheld the fugitives -pass along the edge of the wood, and the fierce pursuers spurring -after, he went away towards the field to see if he could aid the -wounded. He found a number of the people from the abbey upon the -field, and some of the good sisters. Litters were procured; the -wounded men were removed; the dying had the consolation of religion; -but the earl of Arran was not found amongst either. While the old man -went his way, the litters travelled slowly to St. Clare. She who was -abbess then asked anxiously for the earl of Arran; but they told her -that he was neither amongst the wounded, nor the dying, nor the dead. -She said they must be mistaken; for a soldier, who had stopped to get -a draught of water at the fountain, had seen him fall pierced with a -spear; and she sent them back with torches, for, by this time, it was -night, to seek for him once more. They sought for him in vain; but the -old franklin, as he had turned homewards, had seen something glitter -in the bushes just at the edge of the wood. On looking nearer, he -found that it was the form of an armed man, with the head of a lance -in his breast. The staff was broken off."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Oh, God, was he living?" exclaimed the princess.</p> - -<p class="normal">"He was," replied Iola; "nay, be calm, be calm, and hear me out. I -must tell the rest rapidly. The old man staid with him till nightfall; -then got a cart and moved him hither, where a great part of his -baggage had been left. They dared not send for a surgeon; for pursuit -after the house of Lancaster was fierce, and slaughter raged -throughout the land. But the old man himself extracted the lance's -head, and stanched the bleeding by such simples as he knew. For three -months he tended him as a father would a child; but for nearly a year -he was feeble and unable to move."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Does he live, does he live?" cried the princess.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Can you bear it?" asked Iola. "He did live long, for many years; but -he heard tidings which disgusted him with life. Hermit or monk he -would not become; for he had other thoughts; but he cast off rank and -state, and, putting on a lowly garb, he lived as a mere woodman in a -forest near, a servant of the abbey where all my youth was spent."</p> - -<p class="normal">"But now, but now!" demanded Mary. "Does he live now? Oh, tell me, -tell me!"</p> - -<p class="normal">As she spoke the door opened. Mary raised her eyes and gazed forward, -with a look of wild bewilderment, and then, with a cry of joy and -recognition, sprang forward and cast herself upon her husband's -bosom.</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h3>CHAPTER XLIII.</h3> -<br> - -<p class="normal">Confusion and agitation pervaded England from end to end. Men gathered -together in the streets and talked. Couriers passed between house and -house. The fat citizen gossipped with his neighbour, over the events -of the day, and looked big and important, as he doled out the news to -his better half at home. The peasantry too were moved by feelings of -their own. The village green and the alehouse had their politicians. -The good wife looked anxious, lest Hob should be taken for a soldier; -and the old men and women recalled the days when the feuds of York and -Lancaster were at their height, and hoped that such times were not -coming again.</p> - -<p class="normal">Still, however, the news spread far and wide, that the earl of -Richmond had landed on the Welsh coast, and was marching towards -London to grasp the crown. From castle to castle, and city to city, -and cottage to cottage, the rumour rolled on. He was there--actually -there, upon English ground; the long-expected blow was struck; the -long anticipated enterprise had begun.</p> - -<p class="normal">Busy emissaries, too, whispered in every ear, that Richmond was -affianced to the heiress of the house of York. There was no longer a -question of York and Lancaster. It was no longer a fratricidal war -between the descendants of the same ancestor; but York and Lancaster -were united; and the long rival factions took their stand, and -unfurled their banners, side by side, against one who was equally -inimical to both. Every evil act which Richard had committed was -called to memory, denounced, and exaggerated. False facts were -fabricated, many of which have been transmitted to the present day, to -blacken his character, and misrepresent his conduct. His views, his -deeds, his very person, were all distorted, and the current of popular -opinion was turned strongly against him. Still the prudent, the timid, -and the idle, counselled together, and prepared to follow a -temporising policy.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Take my advice," said an old man to his neighbours, "keep quite -quiet; take part with neither; let Lancaster cut York's throat or York -Lancaster's, or both join to destroy Richard, we have nothing to do -with such things. We shall suffer enough, whichever wins the day; but -better to suffer in pocket than to die or get wounds in a cause which -concerns us very little. One king is for us just as good as another; -and as to the question of right, as no doctors have settled it, how -should we be able to decide? Keep quiet, and let them fight it out -amongst themselves."</p> - -<p class="normal">Such was very commonly the feeling amongst the lower classes of -the people; and many of a higher rank were moved by the same -considerations. "If we fight for Richmond," they thought, "he may lose -a battle; and then we are at the mercy of Richard. If on the contrary -we march under the banners of Richard, he may be defeated, and -Richmond have our fate in his hands."</p> - -<p class="normal">The higher nobility, indeed, pursued a different course. They began to -gather men; they made preparations for war; but they kept as secret as -possible, in what direction they intended to act. They were in general -very silent as to their intentions, though exceedingly busy and active -in their preparation; and constant communications were passing from -one to the other, the nature of which was not discovered.</p> - -<p class="normal">The only one who seemed inactive in the realm was the king himself. -He, so energetic and daring in the camp and the field, so astute and -cautious in the council-chamber, for a time seemed to do very little. -The first news of Richmond's armament, indeed, had almost cast him -into a state of frenzy; but, when he learned that the earl had landed -at Milford-haven with but three thousand men, his rage appeared to -sink into contempt. He treated his coming as a mere bravado, and -seemed to scorn the display of any extraordinary measures against so -pitiful an attack.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Sir Walter Herbert will give a good account of him," he said, when -some of his courtiers spoke of the invasion. "Herbert has full five -thousand men, choice soldiers, ready and fit to rid our soil of these -French weeds, or I know nought of gardening. We shall soon hear news -of him."</p> - -<p class="normal">He did soon hear news; but it was that Richmond marched on unopposed -through the land, that he had been joined by Rice ap Thomas, with a -thousand men, that Savage had gone over to him, that Herbert made no -movement to oppose his progress, that Wales was rising rapidly in his -favour, that friends and supplies were pouring into his camp, and that -he was rapidly advancing upon Shrewsbury. Then it was that Richard not -only felt the necessity of energy, but became sensible of his danger, -and began to act with that fierce and impatient eagerness which had -formerly characterized him. His messengers hastened over all the -country, calling every one he could count upon to arms, and ordering -those who were doubtful to join him at Nottingham, without an hour's -delay. Norfolk and Northumberland were summoned in the same terms; but -while the one hastened to obey, with all the promptitude of zealous -attachment, the other made no professions, but slowly raised men, and -marched with tardy steps, into such a position that he could act as he -judged fit, whenever the moment for action came. Catesby hurried up -with all the men that he could raise; and many others came in with -extraordinary speed; for though disaffection had spread wide, it was -by no means universal; and many of those who were discontented were -not willing to aid in hurling Richard from the throne. The army -increased in number daily; and when the king compared his own force -with that of Richmond, even after the latter had reached Shrewsbury, -and had been joined by the young earl of that name, and the Lord -Talbot, he laughed all fears of danger to scorn, and prepared to cast -himself in the way of his enemy, in whatever direction he might bend -his steps. Lord Calverly was sent to raise all his tenantry and -dependants; and, amongst others to whom messengers were despatched, to -call them immediately to the aid of the crown, were Fulmer and -Chartley. The courier sent to the former found him on the full march -from Dorsetshire, and returned to Richard with this reply to his -summons--</p> - -<p class="normal">"The Lord Fulmer craves the king's pardon, for moving without his -commands; but having learned that the earl of Richmond had landed in -Wales, he thought he could not be far wrong in marching at once, to -offer his sword and his troops to his sovereign's service."</p> - -<p class="normal">Richard was surrounded by many persons, when these words were -reported; but shortly after, he whispered to Ratcliffe, who stood near -him, saying--</p> - -<p class="normal">"This youth Fulmer deserves well. He shall have his bride. But not -yet, Ratcliffe--not yet. We must crush this Breton-nurtured young -Richmond, and then we will have gay days and bridals. The girl must be -brought to a place of security. We will send her to York."</p> - -<p class="normal">"But your grace forgets that she is not at the abbey," replied -Ratcliffe, who took the king's words for a command. "She must be -found, before she can be sent to York."</p> - -<p class="normal">Richard smiled, with one of his dark looks of serpent subtlety, in -which a slight touch of scorn mingled with an expression of triumphant -cunning.</p> - -<p class="normal">"She needs not to be found," he answered; "but what said the young -Lord Chartley to our summons? Has he returned no answer?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"He called for his horse at the first word, sire," replied Ratcliffe, -"and said, that in four days his tenants should be in the field."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Impetuous ever!" said Richard; but then he fell into a fit of musing, -and his brow grew somewhat dark. "Four days," he repeated, "four days -That argues preparation. He has a two days' journey, speed as he will. -His tenants shall be in the field--Ay, but for whom? Send some one -after him. Bid him join us at Broughton, and let him be well watched."</p> - -<p class="normal">"At Broughton, sire?" said Ratcliffe, in a doubtful tone.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Yes," answered Richard; "we march tomorrow for Leicester. At -Broughton we have him at our will. Have you heard from Lord Stanley, -or his brother, Sir William?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"He is true, I doubt not, sire," replied Ratcliffe; "the last news was -that he had fallen back somewhat from Lichfield, upon the advance of -Richmond, not having force to oppose him, since the defection of Sir -George Talbot and the earl of Shrewsbury. But 'tis said his brother -William is marching to join him with two thousand men, and they will -fight the traitor as soon as they meet."</p> - -<p class="normal">"That must not be," said Richard, with a stern thoughtful look. "If -they win the field, a subject gains the honour which the crown should -have. If they fail, they plume this gosshawk's wings with the eagle -pens of victory, and many will draw to him after a won battle, many -fall from us. There is ever, Ratcliffe, a light and fickle crowd, that -flutters round success, heedless of right or merit, as clouds gather -round the rising sun to gild their empty vapours in the beams that -suck them up ere it be noon. No, no! We will have no one either snatch -Richmond from our hand, or try and fail. Bid them fall back as he -advances, till, with our kingly force, we overwhelm him like a rat in -a torrent. Send off a post to-night; and, in the meanwhile, watch well -the young Lord Strange. His neck is better security than his good -father's faith. We will to Leicester early, before the army. But it -must not lag behind. One day's march lost, and Richmond would slip by. -He must not reach St. Paul's."</p> - -<p class="normal">Thus saying, he turned to the rest of the courtiers, and spoke of -other things.</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h3>CHAPTER XLIV.</h3> -<br> - -<p class="normal">The sun had set nearly an hour. The moon had not yet risen, and the -forest was all in darkness; but there were many people round the door -of the woodman's cottage. Horsemen, and men in armour, and a groom -leading a beautiful white horse, evidently caparisoned for a lady. -Through the chinks of the boards which covered the windows much light -was streaming; and the scene within was an unusual one for such a -place. There were four persons standing round a table, on which was -laid a parchment; and Iola and Chartley had just signed it. The earl -of Arran took the pen and gave it to the princess countess of Arran, -who added her name to the act; and he, himself, then subscribed his -own.</p> - -<p class="normal">Two or three of the attendants, male and female, attested the deed -likewise; and then the woodman, if we may still so call him, placed -Iola's hand in Chartley's, saying, "Now, take her, noble lord, and -place her beyond risk and danger as speedily as may be. To your honour -she is trusted; and I do believe that neither your honour nor your -love will ever fail; but yet, remember she is not your wife till the -ceremonies of religion have consecrated the bond between you. I trust -we shall all meet again soon, in the presence of those who may rightly -judge of these matters; and I promise you there to prove, that the -contract between this lady and the Lord Fulmer is utterly null and -void, and that this contract is legal and good. To insure all, -however--for who shall count upon even a single day--give this letter -to the earl of Richmond, when you have joined him, and tell him it -comes from the woodman who once sent him intelligence which saved him -from captivity, and perhaps from death. Now, God's blessing be upon -you, my children. Nay, let us have no farewells, dear Iola. Take her, -Chartley, take her, and away."</p> - -<p class="normal">"But was not Constance to meet us here?" said Iola, in a low tone. "I -thought she was to be my companion."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I fear that has gone wrong," said the woodman. "The abbey gates were -closed an hour before sunset, and even one of my men was refused -admission to the mere outer court; but I shall join you soon and bring -you news. Though I can raise no great force, yet with what men I can -muster I will not fail to help the noble earl with my own hand. So -tell him."</p> - -<p class="normal">Thus saying, he led Iola to the door of the cottage, with his own -strong arms placed her on the horse's back, and then with one more -blessing, retired from her side. Chartley sprang lightly and happily -into the saddle, and the whole party rode on. It consisted of some -twenty men besides the lover and his lady; and, at a quick pace, they -proceeded through the forest, taking very nearly the same direction -which had been followed by the woodman and the bishop of Ely, but by -the general road, instead of the narrow and somewhat circuitous paths -along which the prelate had been led.</p> - -<p class="normal">I have not time or space to pause upon the feelings of Iola at that -moment--at least, not to describe minutely. They were strange and new -to her. She had encountered danger; she had resisted anger, without -fear; but her circumstances now were very different. She was not only -going alone with the man whom she loved into the wide world, with -perils, changes, and events, surrounding them on all sides like a -mist, through which the most piercing eye could not discover one ray -of light, but she was quitting all old associations, breaking through -every habit of thought, entering upon an entirely new state of being. -The grave of a woman's first life is her marriage contract. Did she -doubt? Did she hesitate? Oh, no, she feared for the future in one -sense, but in one sense alone. She believed, she knew, she felt, that -she had chosen well, that Chartley's love would not alter, nor his -tenderness grow cold, that her happiness was in him, and was as secure -as any fabric can be, built upon a mortal and perishable base; but she -felt that in uniting her fate to his, if she doubled the enjoyments -and the happiness of being, she doubled the dangers and anxieties -also. She was much moved, but not by that consideration--in truth her -emotion sprang not from consideration at all. It was a sensation--a -sensation of the awfulness of the change; and though it did not make -her tremble, yet whenever she thought of it, and all that it implied -through the wide long future, a thrill passed through her heart which -almost stepped its beatings.</p> - -<p class="normal">With Chartley it was very different. Men cannot feel such things with -such intensity, nay, can hardly conceive them. His sensations were all -joyful. Hope, eager passion, gratified love, made his heart bound -high, and filled it with new fire and energy. He was aware that many -dangers were around them, that every hour and every moment had its -peril, and that then a strife must come, brief and terrible, in which, -perhaps, all his newborn joys might be extinguished in death. But yet, -strange to say, the thought of death, which had never been very -fearful to him, lost even a portion of its terrors rather than -acquired new ones, by what might appear additional ties to existence. -We little comprehend in these our cold calculating days--in an age -which may be designated "The age of the absence of enthusiasms"--we -little comprehend, I say, the nature of chivalrous love; nor, indeed, -any of the enthusiasms of chivalry. I must not stay to descant upon -them; but suffice it to say, Chartley felt that, whenever he might -fall, to have called Iola his own, was a sufficient joy for one mortal -life, that to do great deeds and die with high renown, loving and -beloved and wept, was a fate well worthy of envy and not regret.</p> - -<p class="normal">Still he had some faint notion of what must be passing in her breast. -He felt that the very situation must agitate her; he fancied that the -mere material danger that surrounded them might alarm her; and he -hastened to cheer and re-assure her as much as might be.</p> - -<p class="normal">"I trust, dearest Iola," he said, "that I shall not weary you by this -fast riding, after all the agitation of to-day. Once past Tamworth, -and we shall be more secure; for all my men muster at Fazely; and I -trust to find myself at the head of three hundred horse."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Do you stop at Tamworth?" asked Iola. "I have heard that there are -parties of the king's troops there."</p> - -<p class="normal">"We must leave it on the right, where the roads separate," replied -Chartley. "Stanley, I hear, is retreating somewhere in this direction -from Lichfield; but him I do not fear. If we reach Lichfield in -safety, all danger is past. Ride on, dear one, for a moment, while I -speak to some of the men in the rear. I will not be an instant ere I -return to your side."</p> - -<p class="normal">He might perceive something to raise apprehension, as he thus spoke, -or he might not; but Chartley dropped back, and gave orders to two of -the men, to keep at the distance of a hundred yards behind the rest, -and if the slightest signs of pursuit were observed, to give instant -warning; and then, while returning towards Iola, he paused for an -instant by the Arab. "Ibn Ayoub," he said, "in case of attack, I give -thee charge of the most precious thing I have. Shouldst thou see signs -of strife, seize the lady's bridle, and away for safety, wherever the -road is clear. Fleet will be the horses that can keep pace with thine -and hers. A town, called Lichfield, is the place where we must meet. -Thou hast once been there, and dost not forget."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Why should the emir fight, and the slave fly?" asked Ibn Ayoub; "but -be it as thou wilt."</p> - -<p class="normal">"It must be so," answered his lord; "now, ride up closer to us, and -remember my words."</p> - -<p class="normal">Thus saying, he spurred on and renewed the conversation with Iola, in -a cheerful though tender tone, and dear words were spoken, and bright -hopes expressed, which made the way seem short. They recalled the -past, they talked of the night when they had first met, and their -sojourn in the forest, and Iola forgot in part her agitation, in the -thrilling dreams of memory; but every now and then she would wake -from them with a start, and recollect that she was there with -Chartley--there alone--not to return in a few hours to the friends and -companions of early youth, but in one, or, at most, two short days, to -be his wife, to renounce all other things for him, and to merge her -being into his. It was very sweet; but it was awful too, and, as from -a well in her heart, new feelings gushed and almost overpowered her.</p> - -<p class="normal">They had passed the turning of the road to Tamworth, and were riding -on towards Fazely. All danger of an attack from that side seemed over; -and Chartley's conversation became lighter and more gay, when suddenly -one of his men rode up from behind, saying:</p> - -<p class="normal">"There are some horsemen following, my noble lord. They are but three -indeed, of that I am sure, for I rode up to that little hillock on the -common, whence I can see for half a mile. But I thought it best to -tell you."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Spies, perhaps," said Chartley, in a calm tone. "If so, I would fain -catch them, and bring them in to Fazely. Ride on, dearest Iola. I will -take ten men, and see who these gentlemen are. All is prepared for you -at Fazely, and we are beyond peril now. I will follow you at once. Ibn -Ayoub, guard the lady."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Chartley, you would not deceive me?" said Iola; "if there be danger, -I would share it at your side."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Indeed, there is none," replied Chartley, "you heard, dear one, what -the man said. I know no more. There are but three men. They can make -no attack, and indeed no resistance."</p> - -<p class="normal">He turned his horse's head as he spoke, and, taking the eight last men -of the troop with him, rode back to the rear. He had not far to go, -however; for, about two hundred yards behind, he plainly saw the -figures of three horsemen, one in front and two following, coming at a -quick pace along the road. He halted his little troop when he could -distinguish them, and as they approached nearer, exclaimed:</p> - -<p class="normal">"Stand! Who comes here?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Is that thee, Lord Chartley?" asked a voice, which the young nobleman -thought familiar to his ear.</p> - -<p class="normal">"It matters not who I am," he replied; "you cannot pass till you -declare yourself."</p> - -<p class="normal">"May I never wear aught but a sorry-coloured cloth cloak and brown -hosen," cried the other, "if that be not Chartley's tongue. I am Sir -Edward Hungerford; do you not know me?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Faith, Hungerford!" replied Chartley, laughing; "like a kingfisher, -you are better known by your feathers than your voice. But what brings -you this way?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Seeking you, good my lord," replied Hungerford, riding up. "I have -been over at Atherston enquiring for you, and then upon a certain -green near a certain abbey; and I fear me, by riding through these -roads, in this dusty August, I have utterly polluted a jerkin of sky -blue satin, of the newest and quaintest device--would you could see -it; and yet now 'tis hardly fit to be seen, I doubt--but faith, all -the news I could get of you, was that you had ridden away towards -Fazely, where your musters are making, and, as I rode down to the -bridge on the Coleshill road, I caught a sound of horses' feet, and -followed."</p> - -<p class="normal">"But what might be your object?" asked Chartley; "what your pressing -business with me?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Nay, I will tell you, when we get to Fazely," replied Hungerford; -"and we had better ride on quick, for I must bear back an answer to -Tamworth to-night."</p> - -<p class="normal">The society of Sir Edward Hungerford, at Fazely, was by no means what -Chartley desired; and he determined on his course at once.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Gramercy, Hungerford!" he said; "these are perilous times, which -break through courtesies and abridge ceremonies. Fazely is in -possession of my merry men. It is an open undefended village, and I -will let none into it, but my own people."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Why, you do not look on me as a spy," replied Hungerford, in an -offended tone; "your hospitality is scanty, my lord Chartley."</p> - -<p class="normal">"If you have to return to Tamworth to-night, Hungerford, it is not -hospitality you seek," answered Chartley; "true, I do not look on you -as a spy, or ought, but the best-dressed man of honour in the land; -but I do hold it a point of prudence, in times like these, to let no -one know the numbers and disposition of my little force, when one can -never tell in what ranks one may see him next. In a word, my gentle -friend, I have heard that you have been of late with good Lord Fulmer, -down in Dorsetshire; and Lord Fulmer is much doubted at the court, let -me tell you--of his love for me there is no doubt. Now, if you were -seeking me at Atherston and elsewhere, you can speak your errand here -as well as at Fazely."</p> - -<p class="normal">"But you cannot read a billet here as well as at Fazely," replied -Hungerford, "no, nor smell out the contents--though I had it scented -before I brought it, which he had omitted."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Who is he?" asked Chartley.</p> - -<p class="normal">"My noble friend, Lord Fulmer, to be sure," answered the gay knight.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Ah, then, I guess your errand," replied Chartley; "here, let us -dismount and step aside. Mundy, hold my horse." Springing to the -ground, he walked to a little distance from his men, with Sir Edward -Hungerford.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Now my good friend," he said, "let me have it in plain words, and as -briefly as may suit your courtly nature."</p> - -<p class="normal">The message, which Hungerford delivered in somewhat circuitous terms, -and with many fine figures of speech, was what Chartley anticipated; -and he replied at once--</p> - -<p class="normal">"I will not baulk him, Hungerford, though good faith, he might have -chosen a more convenient season. Yet I will not baulk him; but, as the -person challenged, I will dictate my own terms."</p> - -<p class="normal">"That is your right," said Hungerford, "we can have the cartel fairly -drawn out, and signed by each."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Good faith, no," answered Chartley; "the first of my conditions is, -that there be no cartel. We have no time for fooleries. Events are -drawing on, in which all personal petty quarrels must be lost; but -still, although I might refuse, and refer our difference to a future -time, when peace is restored, yet I will not seek delay, if he will -demand no other terms but those I can grant at once. Thus then, I will -have no parade of lists, and witnesses, and marshals of the field; but -I will meet him sword to sword, and man to man, my bare breast against -his. Alone too let it be. There is no need of mixing other men in our -quarrels. It must be immediate too; for I have not time to wait upon -his pleasure. To-morrow at dawn, tell him, I will be alone upon the -top of yonder little hill, behind which the moon is just rising, if -that silver light in the sky speaks truth. There we can see over the -country round, so that his suspicious mind cannot fear an ambush. I -will be alone, armed as I am now, with sword and dagger only. Let him -come so armed likewise, and he shall have what he seeks. These are my -conditions, and thereon I give you my hand. Be you the witness of our -terms; and if either take advantage, then rest shame upon his name."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I will tell him, my good lord," replied Hungerford, "but I cannot -answer he will come; for these conditions are unusual. 'Tis most -unpleasant fighting before breakfast. Men have more stomach for a -hearty meal, than a good bout of blows."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Good faith, if he have no stomach for the meal I offer, he may even -leave it," answered Chartley. "'Tis the only time, and only manner -that he shall have the occasion. You own, yourself, I have a right to -name the terms."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Undoubtedly," replied Hungerford. "Yet still the manner is most -uncustomary, and the hour comfortless. If I were a general I would -never let my men fight till after dinner: An Englishman gets savage in -digestion, owing to the quantity of hard beef he eats, and always -should be brought to fight at that hour when he is fiercest. However, -as such is your whim, I will expound it to Lord Fulmer; and now, my -noble lord, I trust you will not hold my act unfriendly, in bearing -you this billet, which I will leave with you, although I have -delivered the substance."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Not in the least, Hungerford," replied Chartley. "I believe, like -many another man, you are better, wiser, than you suffer yourself to -seem."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Thanks, noble lord," replied the knight, moving by his side towards -their horses; "but there was one important matter, which I forgot to -mention, though I have borne it in my mind for several months."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Ay, what was that?" demanded Chartley, stopping.</p> - -<p class="normal">"That last night at Chidlow," replied Hungerford, "your doublet was -looped awry. Were I you, I would strictly command the valet of my -wardrobe to begin at the lowest loop, and so work upwards; for it has -a singular and unpleasant effect upon the eye to see apparel out of -place, especially where slashings and purfling, or bands, or slips, or -other regular parts of the garment are out of symmetry. For my part I -cannot fancy any fair lady looking love upon such a disjointed -garment."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I will follow your sage advice," replied Chartley, laughing; "and -now, good night, Hungerford. Another evening I trust to entertain you -better."</p> - -<p class="normal">Thus they parted; and Chartley, putting his horse to speed, rode after -Iola and her companions. They had reached Fazely, however, before he -overtook them; and the young lord found the master of his household, -with all due reverence, showing the lady Iola to the apartments in the -large farm-house which had been prepared for her.</p> - -<p class="normal">The place was not a palace assuredly; but many a little graceful -decoration had been added to its plain accommodations, since -Chartley's messenger had arrived that evening. Garlands of flowers had -been hung above the doors, fresh rushes strewed the floors, and -wreaths of box hung upon the sconces.</p> - -<p class="normal">All was bustle too in the village. Groups of men in arms were seen -lingering about; and merry sounds came from the ale-house opposite. -Iola's heart, however, sunk a little, when she saw the many signs of -approaching warfare, although those who were to take part therein, and -peril life and happiness, seemed to treat it as a thoughtless May-day -game. A buxom country girl was waiting to attend upon her, some light -refreshments were spread out in the hall; and when Chartley's step and -Chartley's voice were heard, the momentary sensation of dread passed -away, and she felt that the first perils were passed.</p> - -<p class="normal">An hour, a little hour, they stayed together, in sweet dreamy talk; -and then Chartley led her to her chamber, where a bed had also been -prepared for the maid. With a kind and gentle adieu, Chartley bade her -rest well, that she might be refreshed for their march on the -following day, and then returned to hear reports, and give directions.</p> - -<p class="normal">The next was a busy hour. Orders, inquiries, the receipt of -intelligence, the examination of rolls and accounts, filled up the -time; and then, dismissing all to repose, the young lord sat down to -write. Two or three letters were speedily finished; one to Lord -Stanley, one to the Earl of Richmond, and one to Sir William Arden. A -few brief tender lines to Iola he folded up and put in his own bosom; -after which he wrote some directions upon paper, sealed them, and then -marked upon the back--"To be opened and followed if I be not returned -by eight of the clock--Chartley."</p> - -<p class="normal">And then he sat, and leaned his head upon his hand, and thought. He -would not retire to rest, lest he should not wake in time; but the -hours of the night slipped by; and at length he rose, and broke the -slumbers of his drowsy master of his household, who, though startled -at seeing his lord by his bed-side, could hardly be brought to -understand what was said to him.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Here, take these orders," said Chartley. "Put them under your pillow -for to-night, and see that they be executed at the hour named -to-morrow."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I will, my lord. Yes, my lord, I will," replied the man, rubbing his -eyes; and having given him the paper, Chartley procured a cup of cold -water, drank it for refreshment after his sleepless night, and then -proceeded to the stable. There, with his own hands, he saddled his -horse; then mounted, and rode away.</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h3>CHAPTER XLV.</h3> -<br> - -<p class="normal">I know no labour of the body which fatigues so much as agitation of -the mind; but the fatigue which it produces is very often of that kind -which refuses repose. The mind, in its immortality, does not so easily -yield to slumber as its death-doomed companion. More than an hour -passed ere Iola slept; but, when she did sleep, it was with the calm -and tranquil repose of youth and innocence. Fears she might feel; -strong emotions might affect her; dangers, anxieties, and cares she -might undergo; but there was no evil act to be regretted, no evil -thought to be combatted. The worm that dieth not was not in the heart. -The fire that cannot be quenched had not passed upon the brain. She -slept sweetly, tranquilly then; and daylight found her sleeping still.</p> - -<p class="normal">The light-hearted country girl, who lay on the small bed at her feet, -slept quietly too; but she had her accustomed hour of waking, and, at -that hour, she rose. Her moving in the room roused Iola; and on being -informed of the hour, though it was an early one, she said she would -rise too, that she might be ready for whatever course Chartley chose -to follow. Her toilet was nearly complete, and the girl had left the -room some minutes, when she suddenly returned with a look of alarm, -saying:</p> - -<p class="normal">"Oh, lady, there is that terrible-looking black man at the door, -insisting to speak with you."</p> - -<p class="normal">Iola waited not to hear more, though the girl was going on to tell her -that the whole house was in confusion, but sprang to the door and -threw it open, demanding,</p> - -<p class="normal">"What is it, Ibn Ayoub?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"There is danger, lady," said the Arab. "My lord gave me charge to -guard you to Lichfield in case of strife; and strife is coming."</p> - -<p class="normal">"But where is your lord?" demanded Iola, with eager alarm in her tone -and look.</p> - -<p class="normal">"It is not known," replied the Arab. "He rode out this morning alone, -it is supposed to visit some posts, or see for the men not yet come -up. But he commanded me yesterday to guard you safely to Lichfield in -any hour of peril. That hour is now. The Lord Stanley with a large -force is marching on us; and our people are parlying with his, at the -end of the village. They say they will give admission to none, till -our lord's return; and Lord Stanley says he will force them. Throw on -your hood, lady, and come down. Your horse is ready; and there is a -way through the farm into the fields."</p> - -<p class="normal">Iola hesitated for a moment; and then, looking earnestly in the Arab's -face, she demanded:</p> - -<p class="normal">"Did he say that I was to go?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"By the beard of the prophet, he did," replied Ibn Ayoub.</p> - -<p class="normal">At the same moment came the blast of a trumpet from no great distance; -and the voice of the master of Chartley's household was heard calling -up the stairs, and exclaiming:</p> - -<p class="normal">"Call the Lady Iola, call the Lady Iola!--Tell her she had better -hasten away, out by the other end of the village. Bid her make -haste--bid her lose no time."</p> - -<p class="normal">Iola snatched up her hood from the table; and leaving all the little -articles of dress which had been brought with her, scattered about, -she hurried down the stairs. All was confusion below; and in vain she -tried to obtain some further information concerning Chartley. Most of -the men had gone forth at the first news of danger; and there were -none but the farmer and his sons, and the master of the household, an -elderly and somewhat infirm man, on the lower story. The latter urged -her eagerly to fly; and, hurrying into the court at the back of the -house, she was soon mounted on the fleet horse which had borne her -thither. Ibn Ayoub seized the bridle. One of the young men opened the -great gates behind and in a minute or two after, Iola found herself -amongst the fields and hedgerows, to the east of Fazely. Those -hedgerows were then numerous, and in full leaf, hiding the fugitives -from all eyes; and for nearly half an hour, the Arab urged the horses -on at a quick pace. At first, just as they issued from the village, a -number of loud sounds were borne upon the air; and once again a blast -of a trumpet was heard. But gradually the sounds became faint, as Iola -rode on; and very soon the calm sweet silence of an early summer -morning fell over the scene around. Nought was heard but the beating -of the horse's feet upon the road, the lowing of some distant cattle, -and the singing of a bird. All was peaceful, except poor Iola's heart; -and it beat with manifold agitating sensations.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Let us go slower, Ibn Ayoub," she said. "We must be out of danger -now--at least, out of that danger. Let me think, let me think. At this -pace, I seem to leave thought behind me."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Ay, there is no peril now," said the Arab, in his peculiar Oriental -tone; "but yet it were well to reach Lichfield as soon as may be; for -there my lord said he would join us."</p> - -<p class="normal">"But are you sure you are in the way to Lichfield?" asked Iola. "And -are you sure, also, that your lord will be able to join us?--Heaven, -what will become of me, if he should not?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"God is good," said the Arab, reverently laying his hand upon his -breast, "and fate is unchangeable. This is the road to Lichfield; so I -understood them; but every road has an end; and we shall soon see. Yet -let us go slowly. I forgot you are not an Arab."</p> - -<p class="normal">The way was longer however than the good slave thought, and seemed to -Iola interminable. Villages were in those days few in the land; and -many of the towns now existing were then villages. The road they -travelled was evidently a small country road, good enough from the -dryness of the season, but little frequented, and furnished with none -of that convenient information, which tells the traveller of modern -times, by an inscription on a tall post, that he must turn to the -right to reach one place, or to the left to reach another. The heat -was very great too, oppressing both the horses and the riders which -they bore; and gradually the bright clear light of the summer morning -began to be obscured. A thin filmy veil was drawn over the sky; and, -as if forming themselves out of it, the yellowish outlines of gigantic -clouds were seen writhing and twisting themselves into a thousand -strange fantastic shapes. There was no wind, and yet they moved, and, -gradually piling themselves up, they seemed to climb one over the -other, like the Titans in the strife with Heaven.</p> - -<p class="normal">"We shall have a storm ere night," said the Arab; "and you seem weary -and alarmed, lady."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Alarmed I am, but not for the storm, Ibn Ayoub," replied Iola. "It is -for your dear lord, I am alarmed. It is this apprehension makes me -feel weary, I believe, and the agitation of our sudden departure. Yet -the air is terribly oppressive. I feel as if I could hardly breathe;" -and she unclasped the sort of collar, called a gorget, which, at that -time, formed a part of every lady's dress.</p> - -<p class="normal">The Arab smiled. "It has but the feeling of spring to me," he said, -"though in your cold clime, doubtless, it seems hot; but we will find -some house where you can get refreshment and a few minutes repose."</p> - -<p class="normal">"We may obtain information," said Iola; "and that is of more -importance. I can very well ride on to Lichfield. It was but six -miles, I think they said, from Fazely. By this time, we ought to have -seen it, I think."</p> - -<p class="normal">"True, we have travelled more than six miles," said the man; "but yet -all seems clear. Nay, there is a house there. I see the roof peeping -over the hill; and this must be, the gate leading up to it."</p> - -<p class="normal">They turned along the little farm road, which they saw winding through -two neighbouring fields, sloping upwards towards the west; and, as -they rose upon the little hill, they attained a more distinct view of -a good sized farmer's or franklin's house, with the low sheds and -barns, which were then common in England.</p> - -<p class="normal">"You go first and speak to them, lady," said Ibn Ayoub. "My skin -frightens them--as if it needed to be washed in milk, to have a true -heart."</p> - -<p class="normal">He spoke from experience; and, judging that he was probably right, -Iola rode on to the door, and called to a girl, who was carrying a -milk-pail through the passage. She instantly set down the pail, and -came running out to speak with the beautiful lady who called to her; -but the moment she cast her eyes beyond Iola, to the face and figure -of Ibn Ayoub, she ran back into the house with a scream. An elder -woman, however, appeared in her place, with a frank good-humoured -countenance, to whom Iola explained that she had come from Fazely, -intending to go to Lichfield, but that, from the distance they had -travelled without finding the city, she judged they must have made -some mistake.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Mistake, sweet lady! ay, marry, have you," answered the good woman. -"Why, you are within four miles of Castle Bromwich, and I don't know -how far from Lichfield--fourteen miles, we reckon; and they are good -long ones, as I know. But you look tired and pale. Won't you come in -and rest? That foolish child was frightened at your tawny Moor; but -I'll warrant she'll soon be playing with his golden bracelets."</p> - -<p class="normal">Iola had turned pale, to find that she was so far distant from the -place of her destination. She feared, too, that in so long a ride as -was now before her, she might fall in with some parties of the troops -that were crossing the country; and, judging that she might obtain -some information for her guidance at the farm, she accepted the good -woman's offer, and dismounted. Ibn Ayoub led the horses round to a -stall at the back of the house; and Iola was soon seated in the -kitchen of the cottage, with milk and eggs before her, and the good -dame pressing her to her food. There is something in graceful -sweetness of manner, which wins upon the rudest and most uncultivated. -But the good farmer's wife was not so. By character kind and cheerful, -nature had taught her the best sort of courtesy, and to it had been -added an education superior to that of many in her own rank. She could -read, and she could write, which was more than one half of the class -above her own could do; and she had lived in towns before she married -a farmer, which had rendered her polished in comparison with others. -It was with the kindness of her heart, however, that Iola had most to -do; for there was so much frank sincerity in her hospitality, that -Iola was encouraged to place some sort of confidence in her, and to -ask her advice as to her farther course. The opportunity of so doing -was easily found; for the good woman herself was not without that -share of curiosity which is almost uniformly found amongst persons -leading a very solitary life; and she asked full as many questions as -it was discreet to put. Amongst the rest, how it happened that a lady, -like Iola, was going to Lichfield, with only one man to guard her, and -he a tawny Moor?</p> - -<p class="normal">"There were plenty of men to guard me this morning," replied Iola; -"but Fazely was menaced by a large body of troops, which the people -about me judged to be enemies; and I was advised to fly as fast as -possible, with the good Arab, who is a faithful and devoted attendant -of----"</p> - -<p class="normal">There Iola paused and hesitated, not knowing how to conclude her -sentence, without calling forth inquiries or perhaps exciting -suspicions, which might be difficult to answer, and unpleasant to -endure. But the good woman saved her all pain on the subject.</p> - -<p class="normal">"There, never mind names," she said. "These are not times for people -travelling to give their names. It may be your husband, it may be your -brother, you are talking of; but it is all the same to me. So then, -there are two sets of them at Fazely, are there I heard of some people -having mustered there from the west, three or four days ago; but I -did not know there were any others marching up. Are you aware, dear -lady--nay, do take another egg; you want refreshment, I can see--are -you aware that the earl of Richmond and all his people are at this -time in Lichfield?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"No, I was not," answered Iola; "but, nevertheless, I must get forward -thither as fast as I can; for there I am to be met by those to whom I -must look for assistance and protection; and what I now fear is -encountering any of the bands of lawless soldiers, who are now roaming -about the land."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Ay, marry, 'tis to be feared you do, riding so lonely. Why, Castle -Bromwich was full of Sir William Stanley's people; but the greater -part moved on yesterday to Atherston; two thousand goodly men as you -would wish to see, they tell me; one half of them in armour of plate. -I know not whether any were left behind, but 'tis very likely; for -there is generally what they call a rear guard. Then there are the -king's troops moving from Tamworth towards Leicester. They were to go -yesterday. I don't know whether they did. As for that matter, Sir -William's are the king's troops too, I suppose."</p> - -<p class="normal">This intelligence did not serve to cheer Iola very much, for it only -showed her, more forcibly than ever, the difficulty she might meet -with, in trying to escape from that circle of military operations -which were taking place all around her; and, for a moment or two, she -looked so disconsolate, that the good woman's pity was moved.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Ah, poor thing," she said, "I wish I knew what I could do for you. -You are too young, and too gentle, to be exposed to such sort of -things. Now, I warrant you, you have seldom stretched your limbs on a -hard bed, or eaten homely fare like ours."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Oh yes, I have, often," replied Iola, with a gayer smile than she had -ever assumed since she entered the house; "and very happy was I when I -did so."</p> - -<p class="normal">"But you are a lady by birth?" said the good woman, with a doubtful -look.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Oh yes," replied the fair girl, "I am the heiress of a high house, my -good dame; more's the pity."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Ay, why more's the pity?" asked the farmer's wife.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Because flies will come where there is honey," answered Iola; "and -many a one seeks riches who cares little for love."</p> - -<p class="normal">"True, very true," replied the other, with a sigh. "I wish I could -help you, dear lady; but I know not how. They took all our horses and -carts yesterday, and the men with them, and my husband too, to carry -over the baggage of Sir William's troops to Atherston. If my man had -been at home, he would have told you what to do soon enough; for he -has got a head, I'll warrant."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Let us call in the slave, and consult with him," said Iola. "He is -faithful and honest; and we trust him much."</p> - -<p class="normal">Ibn Ayoub was accordingly sought for, and found in the farm-yard, -where he had already made such progress in overcoming the prejudices -of the farmer's daughter, that she had brought him a bowl of milk with -her own hands. Although he spoke English but imperfectly, and -understood less what others said than they understood him, his -questions soon elicited from the good farmer's wife and her daughter, -who followed him into the room, much more intelligence than Iola had -obtained. The girl told them, that people from Bromwich had been -seeking more carts that morning, that a band of Sir William Stanley's -men had arrived at the town by daybreak, and were to depart at noon, -or before, if they could get carriage. The farmer's wife remembered, -too, that one body of them was likely to pass along the very road upon -which she had been about to direct Iola towards Lichfield.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Can we learn when they have gone by?" asked Ibn Ayoub, in his laconic -way.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Then we could go on at once, when the way is clear," said Iola.</p> - -<p class="normal">"That were easily done," said the farmer's wife. "The road is not very -far. We have a field that overlooks it."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Send the little cow-boy to feed the cattle by Conyer's copse," -suggested the daughter. "There he will see them all pass; and, my life -for it, he will go down and talk with some of the archers, and learn -what they are doing, and all about it."</p> - -<p class="normal">"'Tis a good way," said Ibn Ayoub. "Let him not know why he is sent, -lest he tell as well as ask."</p> - -<p class="normal">Such was the course followed. With his dinner put into his wallet, the -boy was sent to drive the cattle from the pasture where they were -feeding, to that which overlooked the road; and he was strictly -enjoined, if any soldiers went by, and asked whether there were carts -or waggons at the farm, to say, no, they had gone to Atherston and not -returned, and to come back and tell when they had passed. Iola, it was -arranged, should remain where she was, till it was ascertained that -this body at least had gone by; and when she made some faint excuse -for intruding so long upon the good dame's hospitality, her hostess -laughed, saying--</p> - -<p class="normal">"Bless thee, my child, if 'twere for a month, thou art welcome. So thou -art safe, I do not care. Come, Jenny, you've got the churning to do; -and I have to make the cakes."</p> - -<p class="normal">All that frank and simple kindness could do, during the next three or -four hours, was done by the good woman of the house, to make her fair -guest comfortable and at ease. Amongst the most painful periods of -life, however, are those when thought and feeling are compelled to -strive against each other for the mastery, when the heart is filled -with deep emotions, and yet the external things of life are pressing -upon the brain for attention and consideration. Such was now Iola's -situation, as she sat meditating upon how she should make her way to -Lichfield, through all the difficulties and dangers which surrounded -her, while her heart was filled with anxiety for Chartley, and for the -result of the struggle which she believed might be going on at Fazely.</p> - -<p class="normal">Twelve o'clock, one, two, three o'clock came; and the cow-boy did not -return. At last, somewhat anxious in regard to his absence, the -farmer's daughter set forth herself to see for him. She found him in -the very act of watching a small body of troops, passing from castle -Bromwich towards Atherston; and, having looked along the road as far -as she could see, she returned to the farm to make her report. It was -now agreed that Iola, and her attendant, should still remain for half -an hour, as the girl had seen a number of stragglers on the road; and -while Ibn Ayoub went to prepare the horses, the good dame endeavoured, -to the best of her power, to give Iola an accurate notion of the -various paths she was to follow, to reach Lichfield by the least -dangerous roads. Iola bent all her attention to her lesson; but, at -length, she suddenly interrupted the good woman in her detail, -saying--</p> - -<p class="normal">"Oh, I know that spot well, where there are the three stone mounting -steps, and the great cross above them. One road leads to St. Clare, of -Atherston, and the other to Tamworth."</p> - -<p class="normal">"And the little one on the left straight to Lichfield," replied the -good woman. "It is the same distance from each, just seven miles and a -furlong. If you were to go on the Tamworth road, you would have Fazely -close upon your left. As you go to Lichfield, you will leave it four -miles upon your right."</p> - -<p class="normal">The horses were soon after brought round. The adieus were spoken. The -good farmer's wife would receive no recompense for the entertainment -which she had afforded to Iola. But a small brooch, which the lady -took from her hood, and bestowed upon the daughter, was more than -compensation for everything but the kindness and tenderness which -nothing could repay; and, with a motherly blessing upon her head, as -she departed, Iola waved her hand, and once more rode upon her -journey.</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h3>CHAPTER XLVI.</h3> -<br> - -<p class="normal">On the evening of the nineteenth of August, and at the hour of -half-past six, was seen riding alone, through the woodland, then lying -about three miles to the right of the direct road from Lichfield to -Tamworth, a gentleman mounted on a powerful black horse. No pleasant -ride was it he was taking; for by this time, one of those violent -thunder storms which so frequently interrupt the brief course of an -English summer, and which were both more severe and more frequent when -the land was better wooded than it is at present, had broke upon the -earth, after it had been menacing in the sky all the morning. I am -fond of describing thunder storms, having watched many a one in all -its changes for hours; and there is infinite variety in them too, so -that a dozen might be described, and no two alike; but, as I have done -so more than once before, I would certainly have said nothing of this -storm, had it not been an historical one, and connected with an -incident of some interest in English history. Suffice it, however, -that the thunder seemed to shake the very earth, rattling amongst the -trees of the forest as if immense masses of stone had been cast -through them by some tremendous engine. The lightning gleamed all -around, before, behind, overhead, in amongst the trees, under the -green leaves and boughs seeming to display for an instant all the dark -recesses of the forest, as if they had been suddenly lighted up by a -thousand torches, and then leaving them in blacker shade than before. -For the roar of the thunder, for the flash of the lightning, that -traveller would have cared very little; but for the increasing -darkness of the day, which seemed to anticipate the setting of the -sun, and for the deluge which poured from the sky, drenching himself, -his horse, and his accoutrements, he did care. Had there been any -wind, the rain would have been blinding; but it came pouring down in -such torrents, straight, even, unceasing, that what between the -failing light, the vapour rising from the hot ground, and the -incessant dark drops, it was impossible to see for more than a hundred -or a hundred and fifty yards along the road.</p> - -<p class="normal">Yet the traveller turned his head often as he rode, looking hither and -thither, wherever any opening in the wood appeared; and he went slowly -too, as if he were in no haste, or uncertain of the way. Still, as he -proceeded, he murmured to himself.</p> - -<p class="normal">"This is most unfortunate. Perhaps 'twere better to go back; and yet, -in this blinding deluge, I might again miss the road, and wander -Heaven knows whither. What will they think too? Would to Heaven I had -brought the boy with me! True, he never was in this place in his life -before, any more than myself; but he seemed to have an instinct in -finding his way."</p> - -<p class="normal">He rode on for about ten minutes more, and then exclaimed joyfully:</p> - -<p class="normal">"There are some felled trees! There may be a woodman's cottage or some -forest but near--a horse, upon my life, and a woman's garments under -that shed. Woman, with all her faults, is ever a friend to the -distressed, a help in the time of peril;" and, turning his horse out -of the path, he rode quickly over some cleared ground, man[oe]uvring -skilfully amongst the felled trees and stumps with which the spot was -encumbered.</p> - -<p class="normal">His course was directed towards a little open shed, into one side of -which the rain drove furiously; but immediately in the way, at the -distance of only a few feet from the shed itself, was a deep sawpit, -at either end of which were piles of timber, which he could not pass -without going round. Just opposite, however, under the partial shelter -which the shed afforded, was the form he had seen from the road; and -close by was the horse, a beautiful animal of pure Arab blood, covered -with splendid housings of velvet and gold, which were getting soaked -in the descending deluge. All that he could see of the woman was, -that, in figure, she was slight and graceful; for her hood was drawn -far over her head; and she stood in the farther part of the shed to -avoid the rain as much as possible. Her riding-suit, however, spoke no -lowly station; and it was with a tone of gentlemanly deference that -the stranger accosted her.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Pardon me for addressing you, lady," he said; "for necessity compels -me to do so; and yet I fear, from finding you taking refuge here, that -my application will be fruitless. I have lost my way in this wood; and -I would fain know if I am near Tamworth, or if there be any place -where I can obtain shelter in the neighbourhood."</p> - -<p class="normal">"You are far from Tamworth," said a sweet musical voice, "five or six -miles at least; and as to shelter, I have just sent an attendant to -see if there be any better place than this within a short distance. I, -myself, am not aware of any. He will be back immediately," she added; -"for I told him not to go far."</p> - -<p class="normal">Perhaps there was a little apprehension in the latter part of her -reply; for, although the dress of the stranger was that of a high -rank, and his demeanour courteous, yet still he was a stranger; and, -to say truth, his features and expression, though not marked by any -violent passions, and hardly to be called repulsive, were not -altogether prepossessing.</p> - -<p class="normal">"If you will permit me," he said, "I will wait till your attendant -returns, and crave a part of the roof that covers you."</p> - -<p class="normal">What she replied he did not hear; for, at that instant, there was a -bright flash of lightning, which caused her to hide her eyes with her -hand, followed instantly by a tremendous roar of the thunder that -drowned every other sound. Before the rattling peal had ceased, for it -seemed to go round and round the whole sky, the stranger was by her -side, dismounted, and tying his horse at some distance from her own; -and Iola, with her eyes unshrouded, was examining his appearance -attentively. He was a man in the prime of life, tall and well formed, -but spare in person, and somewhat thin in face. The features were -good, but somewhat stern in character, with a forehead broad and high, -and a slight wrinkle between the brows. The whole expression was grave -and thoughtful, with a slight touch of shrewdness, and a cold, -inquiring, calculating eye. The second look, however, was more -satisfactory to Iola than the first had been. That grave, even stern, -looking man, was far more acceptable to her, as a companion at that -moment, than one of the gay light flutterers of the court would have -been. When his horse had been secured, the stranger pulled off his -hat, which was of a foreign fashion, and shook the wet from the broad -border and the plume; and then, turning to the lady, he said:</p> - -<p class="normal">"I fear I break in upon your privacy; but I am sure your kindness will -forgive it, and trust that, if you have it in your power to give me -any information or direction, you will do so. Your own heart will -thank you; for it will be indeed a charity, and I shall be most -grateful."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I know nothing of your need, sir," replied Iola. "All you have told -me is your wish to reach Tamworth, which is far. If you will tell me -what other information you may want, I will give it willingly, though -I know but little with any certainty."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Business of importance, indeed, carries me to Tamworth," he answered; -"and I ought to have been there ere now; but we live in dangerous -times, and the country is in a troublous state, so that at every step -one may stumble upon some body of hostile troops."</p> - -<p class="normal">"That is true," replied Iola; "for I am seeking, myself, to get beyond -these two lines of adversaries. If I knew which you had to fear, -perhaps I might give you information."</p> - -<p class="normal">The stranger smiled. "Can you not tell me, in general terms, what you -know of the two armies?" he asked. "Then I may be able to judge."</p> - -<p class="normal">"You fear to speak your faction to me," answered Iola; "and therein -you do me wrong; for, believe me, if you were king Richard himself, I -would not betray you to your enemy; nor, if the earl of Richmond, to -king Richard. Yet, perhaps, you are wise to keep your own counsel."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I have always found it so," said the other, with a laugh. "Not that I -doubt you, dear lady; for you do not look like one who would injure -any one. But you can, as I have said, tell me generally."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Well, then, I learn," said Iola, "that the king is at Leicester with -a large force, the earl of Richmond at Lichfield; Sir William Stanley, -on his march to join the king, moved yesterday to Atherston and the -Lord Stanley sought to pass through Fazely this morning, just between -us and Tamworth. Whether he passed or not I cannot tell."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Retiring before the earl of Richmond's army," said the stranger, -musing. "But why think you he did not pass?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Because there were other troops in the village," answered Iola, "some -three or four hundred men, I learned, under the Lord Chartley."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Then is Chartley at Fazely?" exclaimed the other, with a glad look. -"How far is Fazely hence, dear lady?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"About three or four miles, I am told," answered Iola; "but I know not -that Lord Chartley is there now. When I came thence this morning, the -troops of Lord Stanley demanded admission, and were refused. Strife -was likely to ensue; and I was told to fly and seek safety at -Lichfield."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Then now I know who you are," said the stranger, taking her hand; -"the Lady Iola St. Leger. Is it not so? I am a friend of Lord -Chartley's; and he wrote, to me, that he and you would be at Lichfield -to-night."</p> - -<p class="normal">Iola blushed, she hardly knew why, and, when the thunder had ceased -echoing, replied,</p> - -<p class="normal">"You have guessed right, sir; but I knew not that Lord Chartley had -written to any one. May I not know your name?"</p> - -<p class="normal">The stranger paused for a moment thoughtfully, and then answered, "You -will think me discourteous; but yet, methinks, the rule I have laid -down it were best to adhere to. Much depends upon prudence in my case; -and it were better to be over discreet than rash."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Then, my good lord, I know you too," replied Iola, with one of her -gay looks, beaming up for an instant, and then disappearing again like -a meteor over the night sky. "Shall I tell you whom I believe you to -be?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"No," replied the stranger. "That might make me more discourteous -still, and neither answer yes or no to your surmise. But deal with me -merely as a friend of the Lord Chartley's, who wishes him well--as one -linked in the same cause with him, whose enemies are his enemies, and -let me hear anything you may judge necessary for me to know."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I am quite sure I am right," answered Iola; "although it is a mystery -to me how you came hither alone, unattended, and certainly in a place -of danger."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Good faith, it is a mystery to me too," replied the other; "but a -simple mystery, dear lady, and a foolish one. The truth is, I lost my -way. Now tell me, think you, from what you know, that I can cross -safely from this place to Tamworth?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"No, indeed, my lord," replied Iola. "Lord Stanley's troops are most -likely in possession of Fazely; for I much fear that Lord Chartley's -men would be soon overpowered."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Then why did Chartley refuse to let him pass?" demanded the stranger. -"All that Stanley could desire was to retreat in peace; but he was -compelled to clear a passage, at any risk, otherwise the earl's army -would cut him off from the king's host."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Lord Chartley was not there," said Iola. "He had gone forth, they -informed me, early in the morning, and had not then returned; but I -can tell you little of the matter, for orders had been left to hurry -me away in case of danger. However, if even you could pass Fazely, and -could reach Tamworth, you would be in more danger still: for parties -of the king's troops were in possession of that place at a late hour -last night."</p> - -<p class="normal">"They have been removed farther back," said the stranger, nodding his -head significantly; "and Stanley is in full retreat too, if this -unfortunate affair has not delayed him. Yet, it would be dangerous to -attempt to pass," he continued, musing; "for there is something -strange here; and one error were fatal. I must have farther -intelligence before I act."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I trust we may have some soon," answered Iola; "for I know the slave -will not return without gathering tidings, if it be possible to get -them. I wish he would come, for, though it thunders less, the evening -is growing dark."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Be not alarmed," replied the stranger. "As far as one arm can, I will -protect you, lady. I hold that point of chivalry to be the great and -most essential one, without which valour is the mere brute courage of -a bull, that teaches us to right the wronged, and to protect the -weak."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I trust you are reserved for nobler things than even that, my lord," -replied Iola, "and would not have you risk your life in my defence. -'Tis only that I may have to ride to Lichfield, through this dark -stormy night which makes me fear."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Better not ride to Lichfield, at all," replied the stranger, "for -Lord Chartley's plans must have been altered by one circumstance or -another. He knew not yesterday that the earl of Richmond was to be at -Tamworth this night."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I am but as a soldier, noble lord," replied Iola, with a faint smile, -"and must obey my orders. But, hark! I hear a horse's feet--my -faithful Arab, come to bring me news."</p> - -<p class="normal">"God send the tidings be good," said her companion; and, advancing to -the other end of the shed, he exclaimed: "Heaven, what is this? In -this twilight, it seems like a spectre in a shroud!"</p> - -<p class="normal">The next instant Ibn Ayoub rode up to the side of the shed, and sprang -to the ground casting the bridle free upon his horse's neck. He glared -for an instant at the stranger, with his black eyes flashing with -eagerness; and, then turning to Iola, he put his hand upon his head, -saying: "I have been long, lady; but, I could not help it. There is -neither house nor hut, for a mile and a half; and Heaven was sending -down streams of fire and water all the way."</p> - -<p class="normal">"But what news from Fazely, Ibn Ayoub? What news from Fazely?" asked -Iola, eagerly.</p> - -<p class="normal">The Arab gave a glance to the stranger, and she added: "Speak, speak! -You may speak freely. This gentleman is a friend. I know him."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Well, then, lady, bad news," answered the Arab. "Lord Stanley had -taken the place, and gone on to Atherston. His rear guard hold it -still, however."</p> - -<p class="normal">"But was there strife?" asked Iola, in eager terror.</p> - -<p class="normal">"No," answered the Arab. "They dealt in words it seems; and when they -found that this lord had two thousand men and they but three hundred, -they gave up the place, upon condition that they might have half an -hour to go whithersoever they would."</p> - -<p class="normal">"But your lord, your lord?" asked Iola. "Had you no tidings of him?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"God is good; I heard not of him," said Ibn Ayoub. "The woman of the -house is all for king Richard, and could talk of nought but what Lord -Stanley did, and told me how Lord Fulmer's force had marched out of -Tamworth, going to join the king, and now lay a few miles off at a -place they call Pondhead."</p> - -<p class="normal">"What shall we do then?" demanded Iola, in a tone of fear and -bewilderment. "I know not where Pondhead is; and it may lie straight -in our way to Lichfield."</p> - -<p class="normal">"You had better come to that house," said Ibn Ayoub, "and rest there -for the night. The woman has a heart, though as turned the wrong way; -and the lad, her son, seems a good youth. When I told her a lady was -here in the wood, she cried out at once to bring you there for -shelter, and offered all her house could afford, without asking -whether you were for the king or the earl. I told her afterwards, -indeed, that your uncle was at the court, and high in favour. I would -not tell a lie; but that was the truth and could do no harm."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Much good," said the stranger, now joining in the conversation for -the first time. "I fear this storm will last all night; and you must -have shelter. So, indeed, must I, for I must not venture rashly to -Tamworth till I hear more. I will now seek a boon at your hands. Let -me go with you, as one of your attendants. Pass me as such on the good -woman of the house--"</p> - -<p class="normal">"You, my lord--you!" cried Iola; "will you venture thither?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Even so," he answered, calmly, "if you will so far favour me as to -take me with you. I may return the kindness another day. If you have -any fear, however, that I may bring danger on you, I will not go."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Oh no, 'twas not for that I feared," replied Iola. "'Twas the great -risk to yourself. I thought of."</p> - -<p class="normal">"No great risk, I trust," answered the other. "My face will not betray -me in this part of the world: The night is too nigh for strangers to -come in; and what this good man has said will smooth the way for us. I -can talk deftly of the good Lord Calverly, and speak of Richard's -overwhelming force, and Richmond's little band, as calm and scornfully -as Lovell or Catesby, nor ever seem to think that right and justice, -and God's vengeful strength, can make head against a glittering army -and a kingly crown. Let us go on. I can play my part well. Do not -forget yours, however. Speak to me, order me as a gentleman of your -uncle's household, and, above all forget the words 'my lord.' This -night, at least, we will dry our garments by the fire.--To-morrow, my -resting place may be a damper one."</p> - -<p class="normal">"But by what name shall I call you?" asked Iola.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Call me Harry--Harry Vane," answered her companion; "but, I beseech -you, remember that all depends on care and prudence; and if I make any -mistake in my due service, rate me well. Be a mere shrew towards me -for this night, though you be gentle as a dove, to my good friend Lord -Chartley."</p> - -<p class="normal">With many doubts and apprehensions, Iola yielded to the plan, and, -mounting her horse, rode through the still pouring rain, with the -stranger by her side and Ibn Ayoub directing them on the way. Many -things were arranged as they went, and the good Arab cautioned, which -indeed he did not require. They did not reach the door of the house, -to which he led them, before the sun had completely set; but as they -turned towards the west, they saw a golden gleam on the horizon's -edge, and showing that the storm was breaking away.</p> - -<p class="normal">Timidly, Iola opened the door of the house, which was a large one for -the times and the class of people to which it belonged, while the Arab -gathered the bridles of the horses on his arm, and the stranger -followed a step behind the lady. The scene within alarmed her more -than ever; for it was not like the little quiet farm house she had -visited in the morning. The outer door opened at once into the -kitchen, a large dingy room well grimed with smoke; and round a table -sat three or four stout, heavy-looking, countrymen, together with a -handsome youth, somewhat better dressed, while two or three young -girls were working busily at various household matters, and a stout -dame, with gown tucked up, was taking off, with her own hands, a heavy -pot, from a hook that suspended it above the fire.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Hey, mother, mother!" cried the young man, turning round his head, -"here's the lady the brown man told you of."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Ha," said the good woman, setting down the pot and gazing at Iola -with a look of wonder, either at her beauty or the richness of her -apparel. "Well, I wot you are not fit, my lady, to pass the night in -woods and thunderstorms."</p> - -<p class="normal">"No, indeed," answered Iola. "One of my attendants told me you would -kindly give me shelter for the night, and I will most gladly pay for -any accommodation I receive. I was making my way to Lichfield, -thinking to escape from all these scenes of strife; but it is too -late, I find, to go on."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Ay, that it is," answered the bluff dame; and, at the same moment, -the stranger whispered--</p> - -<p class="normal">"A prouder tone, a prouder tone."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Set me a seat by the fire, Harry Vane," said Iola, with a somewhat -queenly manner; "and then call in the slave. He is wetter than we -are."</p> - -<p class="normal">The stranger hastened to obey; and the good woman of the house laid -fresh wood upon the fire, aided to remove Iola's hood and cloak, and -offered all attention.</p> - -<p class="normal">The loftier tone had its effect; for it is a sad truth, that nothing -is obtained in this world--not even respect--without exaction. Modest -merit! alack and a well-a-day, who seeks for it? and, if not sought, -it cannot be found. One's pretensions should ever be a little more -than one's right--not too much indeed, for then, we shock our great -chapman, the world--but always enough to allow for abatement. The -world will always make it; and such is worldly wisdom.</p> - -<p class="normal">However that may be, there was no lack of kindness and hospitality. -The guests were entertained with the best which the house afforded; -the horses were fed and tended under Ibn Ayoub's own eye, for they -were to him as children; and the good dame and her daughters busied -themselves to provide for Iola's comfort, tendering dry garments of -their own, with many apologies for their coarseness, and admissions -that they were unfit for such a great lady to wear.</p> - -<p class="normal">While she was absent from the room, submitting to these cares, her son -conversed with the stranger; and even the ploughmen joined in to ask -questions concerning the movements of the armies, and their probable -result. He played his part well, and with a shrug of the shoulders -said, nobody could tell what might be the event. Richmond's army was -but a pitiful handful, it was true; but it was increasing daily, and -if the king did not force him to a battle soon, the two hosts might be -nearly equal. Then again, he added, suspicions were entertained that -some of the great nobles were not well affected to the king.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Why does not the earl of Northumberland bring up his forces?" he -asked. "It is well known that he could lead six or seven thousand men -into the field; and there they are, either lingering in the North, or -advancing by such slow marches, that a dozen battles might be fought -while they are on the way. For my part, I hold it better not to be -over zealous for any one. None can tell who may win at this rough game -of war; and the lower ones are always losers. If we take the luckless -side, then we have fines and confiscations for our pains, and if we -help the winner we get but cold thanks, when he has secured the game. -I will have nought to do with it, and was right glad when I was sent -to guard my young lady to Lichfield."</p> - -<p class="normal">About an hour and a half was passed, in a hurried desultory kind of -way, and then Iola sought repose. The stranger was provided with a bed -in a room below, and a sleeping-place was offered to Ibn Ayoub in a -room over the stables. He would not use it, however; but, bringing in -some dry straw, he placed it across Iola's door, and there lay down to -rest. There might be a struggle in his mind, between her and the -horses; but duty won the day.</p> - -<p class="normal">For the next six hours Iola rested indeed, but slept little; for the -spirit was busy if the body found repose. Whatever faith and trust in -God may do, we all know that there are sufferings to be endured, from -which our mortal nature shrinks, evils to be undergone that wring the -heart of clay; and though 'twere wiser never to dream they may be, -till they are, importunate experience will not let us rest in such -bright though fanciful security. If imagination be vivid, all -probable, all possible ills are called up to frighten us. If reason be -predominant, still we count the numbers of those enemies, to meet them -as we may. Iola's thoughts were of Chartley all the night long. -Waking, she tormented herself with doubt and apprehension for his -safety, and sleeping, she dreamed of him, and fancied he was in -captivity or dead. It was a relief to her when morning dawned; and she -rose. The house was soon in all the busy bustle of a country life, and -people were heard coming and going long before Iola had quitted her -room.</p> - -<p class="normal">When at length she went down, however, she found all the men absent on -their work; and the first greeting of the good dame was, "Ah, lady, -lucky you stopped here, or you might have been caught. The earl of -Richmond and his rabble are all in Tamworth and the villages round. -Fazely is full of his men; and Lord Stanley has retreated to -Atherston. However, if you go on the road you were travelling, you -will now get to Lichfield quite safe; for they march on quite orderly -'tis said; more so than our own people do, indeed."</p> - -<p class="normal">"How many are there?" asked Iola. "Have you heard?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Well, nigh twenty thousand men, they say," replied the good woman; -"but there is never believing such tales. Now, I will help you to -break your fast in a minute, and send you on your way; for there is no -knowing whether we may not have some of the rebels here before long."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Where are my servants?" asked Iola. "They must have some food too."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Oh, they will come, they will come," said the dame. "They are looking -to the horses. Mag, go and call them."</p> - -<p class="normal">The meal was soon despatched, the horses brought round, and Iola's -purse produced to make payment for her entertainment. Here it was not -refused; for the mistress of the house was a prudent and careful -person, who lost no opportunity of taking money where she could.</p> - -<p class="normal">They rode away with many adieus and wishes for their fair journey, and -the morning was bright and clear. But as soon as they had reached the -public road again, Iola checked her horse, saying, "Ride on a few -yards, Ibn Ayoub;" and then, turning to the stranger, she added, "I -know not whether the information is to be depended on, my lord; but -the good woman told me just now, that the earl of Richmond's army is -at Tamworth, and the villages round, even at Fazely. All king -Richard's troops are withdrawn, she says. So, if you can trust her -report, your way is clear."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I saw a peasant come in from the north with a load of wood," said the -stranger; "but I did not venture either to stay or ask any questions; -for the man eyed me strongly. Be the tale true or false, however, the -result must be risked. I can be no longer absent. To you, dear lady, I -have to return my most sincere thanks, for giving me what aid you -could in a very dangerous situation."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Speak not of that, my lord," replied Iola; "but yet one word before -you go. I am terrified and apprehensive regarding Lord Chartley. I -know not what may have befallen him. I do beseech you, if you can find -time when you reach Tamworth, inquire into his fate, and should you -find him in difficulty, or danger, aid him to the best of your power. -It would quiet many a painful thought too, if I could have -intelligence at Lichfield."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I promise you upon my faith and word, dear lady," said her companion, -riding closer and kissing her hand; "nought shall be left undone to -aid him to the best of my power. Ay, and I will send you news too. So, -now farewell; and God's protection be around you."</p> - -<p class="normal">"And you," said Iola. Thus they parted.<a name="div4Ref_05" href="#div4_05"><sup>[5]</sup></a></p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h3>CHAPTER XLVII.</h3> -<br> - -<p class="normal">Come back with me, dear reader, come back with me both in time and -space; for we must return to the morning before, and to the little -hill-top--not far from the spot where the road to Tamworth and to -Fazely separates--over which, at that time, spread brown turf, green -gorse, and a few patches of stunted heath, with here and there a -hawthorn, rugged and thorny, like a cankered disposition. There is a -man on horseback at the top of the mound; and he looks, first eagerly -towards Tamworth, then at the sun, just rising over the distant -slopes. Lo, two or three horsemen coming on the road from Tamworth! -All stop but one, and turn back. The one comes forward at fiery speed, -quits the road, gallops up the hill, and stands fronting the other.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Good morrow, my Lord Fulmer," said Chartley. "I am here alone. No one -knows of my being here. You have brought men with you along the road."</p> - -<p class="normal">"They have gone back to Tamworth," replied Lord Fulmer, with a look of -fierce satisfaction upon his brow. "I take no advantage, Lord -Chartley. It is quite satisfaction enough to me to have you here at my -sword's point, without my seeking to punish you otherwise. Come, draw, -my lord, and take your last look of earth; for either you or I quit -not this spot alive."</p> - -<p class="normal">"On horseback, then?" said Chartley. "So be it;" and he drew his -sword.</p> - -<p class="normal">Lord Fulmer wheeled his horse a little, to gain ground, and then -spurred furiously on his adversary, his strong charger coming forward -with tremendous force. Chartley's was a lighter horse, but far more -agile; and, knowing that it would not stand the shock, he drew the -right rein, and struck the beast's flank with the left spur. The horse -passaged suddenly to the right; and Lord Fulmer was borne past, aiming -a blow at Chartley's head as he went. The other, however, parried it -with a cool smile, and then wheeling suddenly upon him, in a manner he -had learned in other lands, met him, in the act of turning, and, -striking him in the throat with the pommel of his sword, hurled him -backwards out of the saddle.</p> - -<p class="normal">The moment this was done, he sprang to the ground; but Fulmer was -already on his feet, and ready to attack his adversary sword in hand.</p> - -<p class="normal">"A pitiful mountebank's trick," he cried, "unworthy of a knight and -gentleman."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I would fain spare your life, boy," cried Chartley, somewhat angry at -his insulting words.</p> - -<p class="normal">"I will not hold it at your pleasure," returned Fulmer, attacking him -furiously, with his dagger in one hand, and his sword in the other. -The combat was now somewhat more equal, though Chartley was the -stronger man, and the better swordsman; but, to use a common -expression, he gave many a chance away, unwilling that men should say -he had slain Lord Fulmer, to obtain his contracted bride. For several -minutes he stood upon the defensive, watching an opportunity to wound -or disarm his foe. But even a calm and patient spirit, which -Chartley's was not, will get heated under strife like that. Soon he -began to return the blows, and the contest waxed fierce and strong; -but, even in his heat. Chartley forgot not his skill; and Fulmer did. -A conviction, a dark and fearful conviction, which vanity had hidden -from him before, that he was no match for the man to whom he was -opposed, began to mingle with his anger. The blows that fell about him -like rain, the thrusts that he could hardly parry, confused his mind -and dazzled his sight. He was driven round and round, back upon the -side of the hill, where the footing was unsteady; and then suddenly he -felt his guard beat down; a strong grasp was laid upon his throat, and -once more he was hurled prostrate on the turf. His sword was lost, the -hand which held his dagger mastered, and, when he looked up, he saw -the blade of Chartley's <i>miséricorde</i> raised high and gleaming above -his head. Chartley paused for an instant. The better spirit came to -his aid; and, still holding tight the fallen man's left wrist, with -his knee upon his chest, he brushed back the curls of hair from his -own forehead, with the hand that held the dagger. At that instant he -heard a sound behind him, which, in the eagerness of the strife, he -had not before noticed, and in an instant his arms were seized.</p> - -<p class="normal">Shaking off the grasp laid upon him, as he started up, he turned -fiercely and indignantly round. Ten or twelve men on foot and -horseback were now around him; and, with a withering glance at Lord -Fulmer, who by this time had risen on his knee, Chartley exclaimed, -"Cowardly traitor, is this your good faith?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"On my honour, on my soul!" exclaimed Lord Fulmer, rising and passing -his hand across his eyes, as if his sight were dim, "I have no share -in this. These people are none of mine."</p> - -<p class="normal">"What would you, sirs?" exclaimed Chartley, as the men advanced towards -him again, "Keep back, for I am not to be laid hands on lightly."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Stay, stay," cried one of the men on horseback, riding forward. "Your -name is Lord Chartley, or I much mistake--nay, I know it is; for I -have seen you often at the court. Yield to the king's officer. I am -commanded to apprehend you, and carry you to the nearest post of the -royal troops. We have pursued you hither from St. Clare, and have come -just in time, it seems. Do you yield, my lord, or must I use force?"</p> - -<p class="normal">Resistance was in vain; and, with a heavy heart, Chartley replied, "I -yield, of course, to the king's pleasure. What have I done that should -cause his grace to treat me thus?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"He was informed, my lord," replied the officer, "that you were -leading your men straight to the army of the rebel Richmond."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Or rather, you should say, straight towards the forces of the good -Lord Stanley. Upon my life 'twill make a goodly tale, to hear that the -king imprisons those who go to meet his foes, and honours those who -run away before them."</p> - -<p class="normal">"There are some other matters too against you, sir," replied the -officer. "Reports have come from a good man, lately the bailiff of the -abbey of St. Clare, tending to show that you have had schemes in hand, -contrary to the king's good pleasure. If you were going to Lord -Stanley, however, in that matter you can soon exculpate yourself, as -into his hands I shall deliver you, his being the nearest force at -this moment. Pray mount your horse, my lord. Some one take up his -sword and give it me."</p> - -<p class="normal">During all this time, Lord Fulmer had stood by, with his eyes bent -down and his arms folded; but now, as if with a sudden emotion, he -started forward to Chartley's side, exclaiming, "Upon my honour and my -conscience, I have had nought to do with this."</p> - -<p class="normal">Chartley sprang into the saddle, and gave him a look of scorn, saying, -"My noble lord, it is mighty strange they should know the day, and -hour, and place where to fall on me, many against one. Had I not come -hither to meet you, they would have found me with good three hundred -spears, and might have bethought them once or twice, before they -judged it fit to tell me such a tale. Now, sir, which way? I am your -humble varlet."</p> - -<p class="normal">"To the right," said the officer; and the whole party moved on upon -the road to Atherston.</p> - -<p class="normal">Chartley was in no mood for conversation; but with his head bent, and -his heart full of bitter disappointment, he rode slowly forward with -the soldiers, half inclined, at the turning of every road they passed, -to put spurs to his horse, and see whether he could not distance his -captors. But, as if judging that such an attempt was likely, wherever -an opportunity presented itself, one of the soldiers rode forward to -his right hand or his left; and he saw that several of the footmen, -who were archers, kept their bows bent and their arrows on the string.</p> - -<p class="normal">At length there was a sound of horse, coming at a quick pace behind; -and a party of some two hundred men, all clad in glittering armour, -and bearing a banner at their head, rode by at a rapid trot, going in -the same direction as themselves, and only turning their heads to look -at the small party as they passed by.</p> - -<p class="normal">The officer, however, who rode by Chartley's side, instantly shouted -loudly, "Lord Stanley, Lord Stanley!" and then spurred on. Chartley -saw him speak to a gentleman at the head of the other troop, who -seemed to wait and to listen with impatience; for his gestures were -quick and sharp, and he soon rode on again. The officer immediately -returned, and, ordering the archers to follow as speedily as they -might, he said, "Now, my lord, we must gallop forward to Atherston."</p> - -<p class="normal">He then put his troop at once into a more rapid pace, and rode after -the body of horse which had gone on.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Did Lord Stanley say aught regarding me?" asked Chartley, when they -had nearly overtaken the others.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Ay, my lord, he did," replied the officer, in a gruff tone. "He said -your men opposed the passage of his force through Fazely this morning, -but that he had driven them out, and let them go, for, friends or -enemies, 'twas no matter, they were but a handful."</p> - -<p class="normal">"'Twas by no orders of mine," answered Chartley. "Had I been there, it -would not have happened."</p> - -<p class="normal">"That you must explain yourself, my lord," answered the officer. "I -only do my duty, and that with no good will."</p> - -<p class="normal">At the pace they went, a very short space of time brought them to -Atherston; and at the door of an old-fashioned inn, which then stood -there, and in which Chartley had lodged for some weeks, Lord Stanley -sprang to the ground, saluted by a number of gentlemen and soldiers, -by whom the little town was already occupied. He spoke for a moment or -two to one of them, and then entered the inn, saying aloud, "That will -do--only set a guard;" and the gentleman whom he addressed immediately -advanced to the spot where Chartley still sat upon his horse, saying, -"Your lordship must follow me. I am sorry that I must place a guard -over you."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Can I not speak with Lord Stanley?" demanded Chartley.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Not at present, my good lord," replied the gentleman. "He is full of -business. The king marches from Leicester to-morrow; and we must not -be tardy."</p> - -<p class="normal">Chartley made no reply, but followed in bitter silence, passing -through the groups of gazing idlers round the inn-door, to a room up -one flight of stairs, where some of his own servants used to sleep. -There he was left alone, with the door locked and barred upon him. A -moment after, he heard the tread of a sentry, and then the voice of -some one speaking from a window to a person in the street, and saying, -"Hie away to the king, and tell him you have caught him. Beseech his -grace to send me orders what I am to do with him, for I have no -instructions. Add that I will send in our muster-roll to-night."</p> - -<p class="normal">Chartley mused over what he heard. The words evidently applied to him; -and he asked himself what would be the result of the message. The fate -of Gray, Vaughan, Hastings, Rivers, Buckingham, warned him of what was -likely to befall him; short shrift and speedy death. All the bright -visions had vanished; the gay and sparkling hopes that danced in his -bosom on the preceding night were still. If death is terrible, how -much more terrible when he comes to put his icy barrier between us and -near anticipated joys. Chartley could have died in the field with -hardly a regret, but the cold unhonoured death of the headsman's axe, -the inglorious unresisting fall, it was full of horrors to him. Yet he -nerved his spirit to bear it as became him; and he communed with and -schooled his own heart for many a live-long hour. The minutes crept on -minutes, the shadow wandered along the wall, a thunderstorm closed the -day, and the rain poured down in torrents. Chartley marked not the -minutes, saw not the shadow, hardly heard the storm that raged -without. He thought of Iola; and he asked his heart, "What will become -of her?"</p> - -<p class="normal">They brought him food; but he hardly tasted it, and wine, but he knew -there was no consolation there; and when the sun went down, he crossed -his arms upon his chest, and, gazing forth from the window, said to -himself, "Perchance it is the last that will ever set for me."</p> - -<p class="normal">Shortly after, alight was brought him; and he asked if he could get -paper and pen and ink; but the man went away, saying he would see, and -did not return.</p> - -<p class="normal">The whole night passed. There was no bed in the room; and though once -or twice his eyes closed in sleep for a few minutes, with his arms -leaning on the table, yet it was but to wake up again with a start. -The next morning, dawned fair, but for some hours no one came near -him. At length food was again brought, but the man who carried it -either would not or could not answer any questions, and the day rolled -on, chequered by sounds and sights in the streets, such as commonly -are heard and seen in a small town filled with soldiery.</p> - -<p class="normal">It was a long and weary day, however; and Chartley's heart fell under -the most wearing of all things--unoccupied solitude; but, at length, -the sky grew grey, and night and darkness came on.</p> - -<p class="normal">Nearly an hour then passed in utter silence; and the whole house -seemed so quiet that Chartley could hardly imagine that Lord Stanley -and his train still remained there. But at the end of that time he -heard a quick step, the challenge of the sentry at his door, and then -the pass-word, "The Crown." The next instant the door opened, and Lord -Stanley himself appeared.</p> - -<p class="normal">There was but slight acquaintance between him and Chartley; and his -brow was thoughtful and anxious, boding no good, the young nobleman -thought.</p> - -<p class="normal">"I grieve, my lord," he said, closing the door behind him, "that it -has not been in my power to see you sooner, and grieve still more to -be your jailer; but I have no choice, and better perhaps it is that -you should fall into my hands than those of an enemy."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Much better," answered Chartley, courteously; "but imprisonment is -hard at any time; and now I have a pass under your own hand sent me by -a mutual friend. I beseech you to think of this circumstance, and not -to detain me here, to my peril and great loss of time."</p> - -<p class="normal">Lord Stanley seemed a good deal agitated, by feelings he did not -explain; for he walked once or twice up and down the room without -reply; and Chartley went on to say, "I have not mentioned this pass, -or the letter which accompanied it, to any one, lest by so doing I -might injure you much, and a cause I have much at heart."</p> - -<p class="normal">Stanley approached close to him, and laid his hand upon his arm, -replying with great earnestness, but in a very low tone, "My dear -lord, I freely tell you, that I would let you escape within half an -hour, were the danger only to myself; but the truth is, my son's life -is in peril. The king keeps him as a hostage at the court. He is never -for a moment out of some one's sight, and if I but trip in the -hazardous path I have to tread, I am made childless in an hour. But -tell me, my good lord, how happened it that your men refused me a -passage through Fazely yesterday?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"I know not," answered Chartley; "some foolish mistake, I suppose, for -I myself was not present;" and he proceeded to relate all that had -occurred to him since he left Fazely.</p> - -<p class="normal">"'Tis most unfortunate," said Stanley; "but still, till the very last -moment, I must either obey the orders of the king, whatever they may -be, or be the murderer of my own child. If he should bid me put you in -still stricter confinement, or send you on at once to him--which were -indeed ruin to my hopes for you--yet I must obey. The mere confinement -here is no great evil. Your men have by this time joined the earl of -Richmond; and though, doubtless, you would wish to lead them yourself, -yet, if you lose glory, you will escape some danger and hard blows."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Ay, my good lord," said Chartley, "but there are other perils too. -What if Richard orders you to put me to death?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"You must have form of trial," said Stanley.</p> - -<p class="normal">"None was granted to Buckingham, nor to many another I could name," -answered the young nobleman.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Now God forfend," cried his companion; "but yet, my lord, think what -a son's life is to a father; and judge in my situation what I could -do. Hark!" he added, "there is a horse's feet below. Perchance it is -the messenger returned. We shall soon know."</p> - -<p class="normal">An interval of gloomy silence succeeded, each listening with anxious -and attentive ear. They could hear some words spoken, but could not -distinguish what they were. Then came a step upon the somewhat distant -stairs, and then in the passage. The sentry gave the challenge; and -some one, in a rough loud tone, demanded to speak with Lord Stanley, -adding, "They say he is up here."</p> - -<p class="normal">Stanley instantly rose and went out, and Chartley could hear him -demand, though in a low voice, "Well, what says the king?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"As to the musters, my lord, he says that noon to-morrow will be time -enough," replied the same rough tone; "and as to the prisoner, he -says, 'Strike off his head before breakfast; there are proofs of -treason against him.'"</p> - -<p class="normal">Stanley muttered something to himself which Chartley did not hear, and -then came a pause; but at length the steps were heard receding, and -Lord Stanley did not again appear.</p> - -<p class="normal">"It is determined," said Chartley to himself. "Well, death can come -but once. What matters it, the axe, or the spear point? but yet, poor -Iola! This room is very hot, I shall be stifled here, and disappoint -them;" and, walking to the window, he threw it open and looked out.</p> - -<p class="normal">The room was a considerable height above the street, and to leap or -drop from it might have risked the breaking of a leg or of a neck. -Nevertheless, Chartley perhaps might have tried it, but there was a -still more serious impediment. Two sentinels were stationed at the -door, and walked up and down before the house, passing and repassing -beneath his window. There were numerous groups, too, talking together -in the narrow road, notwithstanding the darkness of the night, which, -though fair and starlit, was quite moonless. A lantern passed along -from time to time, and Chartley easily conceived that there would not -be much repose in Atherston till dawn. The hope of escape faded.</p> - -<p class="normal">In a few minutes the sound of horses' feet was heard at some distance. -They came nearer and nearer, and Chartley could just see the figures -of three mounted men ride up to the house, and there draw in the rein.</p> - -<p class="normal">The foremost, without dismounting, asked the sentry, "Is the Lord -Stanley quartered here?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Yes," replied the man; "but he is gone to repose, I think."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Tell him I am a messenger from his brother, bringing news of -importance, which must be delivered to himself alone," said the other.</p> - -<p class="normal">As he spoke he began to dismount slowly; and while one of the two men -who accompanied him took the bridle, the third sprang with great -alacrity to hold the stirrup, showing, as Chartley thought, reverence -somewhat extraordinary for a mere messenger. The soldier at the door -called out somebody from within, who seemed to be a domestic servant -of Lord Stanley's; and the moment the man beheld the messenger's face, -he said, "Oh, come in, sir, come in. My lord will see you instantly." -The stranger followed him into the house, while his two companions -walked his horse up and down the road.</p> - -<p class="normal">About half an hour elapsed ere the messenger came out again; and then, -springing on his horse at once, he rode away at a quick pace.</p> - -<p class="normal">A few minutes after this, Chartley's dark reveries were interrupted by -two men bringing in a truckle bed, for there had been none in the room -before. One of them was a servant of the inn, whom the young lord knew -well by sight, and had been kind to. The man, however, took not the -least notice of him, any more than if he had been a stranger; and, -saying to himself, "Fortune changes favour," the young nobleman turned -to the window again.</p> - -<p class="normal">A minute or two sufficed to set up the bed in its place; and then the -servant of the inn said to the other man, "Go fetch the blankets and -the pillow; they are at the end of the passage, I think."</p> - -<p class="normal">The moment he was gone and the door closed, the man started forward -and kissed Lord Chartley's hand.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Comfort, comfort, my lord," he said. "The headsman may sharpen his -axe, but it is not for you. Look under the pillow when I am gone; keep -your window open, and watch. But do not be rash nor in haste. Wait -till you have a signal;" and then, starting back to his place, he -began to stretch the cross bars of the bed out a little farther.</p> - -<p class="normal">A minute or two after, the other man returned loaded with bedding, -which was soon disposed in order; but just as they were retiring -again, the servant of the inn seemed to see something amiss about the -pillow, and returned for an instant to put it straight, after which -the two left the room together. The key was turned, the bolt was shot, -and Chartley, putting his hand under the pillow, drew forth a billet, -folded and sealed. It bore no address, and contained but few words. -They were as follows:</p> - -<p class="normal">"The sentinels at the gate will be removed at midnight. Blankets and -sheets have made ropes before now; and a grey horse, whose speed you -know, stands half a mile down the road. Turn to the right after your -descent. Before you go, in justice to others, burn the pass and the -letter which came with it; and, if you understand these directions, -extinguish your light at eleven."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Who could the letter come from?" Chartley asked himself. "It was -neither the handwriting nor the composition of an inn chamberlain, -that was clear," and, taking out the pass, he compared the writing of -the two. There was a very great similarity.</p> - -<p class="normal">Chartley's heart beat high again, but, as he gazed upon the two -papers, the clock struck ten. "Two long hours!" he thought, "two long -hours!" How wearisome seemed the passing of the time. But it did pass; -and when he calculated that eleven o'clock was drawing near, he -approached the pass to the flame of the lamp. It caught and burned; -but ere the whole was consumed, there came across the prisoner's mind -a doubt--a suspicion. It was the only hold he had upon Lord Stanley; a -paper which proved that nobleman had connived at his march to join the -earl of Richmond; a paper which he dared not order to be taken from -him by force lest it should discover its own secret. The next instant, -however, nobler thoughts succeeded. "Away, injurious suspicions!" he -said, and, casting the paper down upon the floor, he suffered it to -consume, and then trampled out the sparks with his foot. The letter -from Richmond, which had accompanied it, shared the same fate; and -then he waited and watched for the stroke of eleven. It was longer -than he had thought it would be; and at length he began to fancy that -the clock had stopped.</p> - -<p class="normal">Presently after there was a stroke of the hammer on the bell; another, -and another, and another. The tale was complete, and he blew out the -light. Then, placing himself at the window, he watched. The road was -now nearly deserted. In a house opposite there was a candle burning, -but it was extinguished in a few minutes. A small body of soldiers -passed along with measured tramp. Next came a drunken man, brawling -and shouting till his voice was lost in the distance. A deep silent -pause succeeded. Chartley could have counted the beatings of his own -heart. Then a man passed by, singing a low plaintive air in a sweet -voice, and his footfalls sounded as if he were somewhat lame. After -that there was another longer pause, and all was still again. Then -came a little noise in a distant part of the inn, which soon subsided, -and silence reigned supreme. It lasted long; and Chartley, thinking -the hour must be near, tied the clothing of the bed together, and -fastened the end to a hook and bar fixed into the wall for the purpose -of suspending a sconce. It was but a frail support for the weight of a -strong man; but he thought, "It will break the fall at least." When -that was done, he sat down in the window seat again, and watched. Oh, -the slow minutes, how they dragged along. At length the clock struck -twelve, and still the sentinels paced up and down. Three minutes had -perhaps elapsed, though to him they seemed many; and then the great -door of the inn opened, and a voice said, "Guard dismissed! quarters, -twenty-two. Roll call at dawn!"</p> - -<p class="normal">There was a clatter of arms, and then side by side the soldiers -marched up the town. He waited till their tramp could no more be -heard, then put his head to the door of the room, and listened. Some -one was breathing heavily without, as if in sleep. Approaching the -window softly, he drew forward the end of the sort of rope he had -formed, cast it over, and mounted on the window seat. Then, holding -fast with both hands, he contrived to grasp one of the knots with his -feet, and slid part of the way down. He loosened one hand, then the -other, and then freed his feet. Still the hook and bar held firm, and -a moment after his feet touched the ground.</p> - -<p class="normal">There was a light burning in a room below, but no one stirred; and, -passing quietly all along the front of the house, he soon accelerated -his pace, and, almost at a run, reached the verge of the little town.</p> - -<p class="normal">The moon peeped up above the edge of the slope, and Chartley looked -eagerly forward. There seemed some dark object under a group of trees -about three hundred yards in advance. He thought it looked like a -horse, but as he came nearer he saw two, and paused for an instant; -but the moment after came a low sweet whistle, like the note of a -bird, and he went on.</p> - -<p class="normal">Beneath the shade of the trees he found his own horse and another -standing, and a man holding the bridles of both. With a wild feeling -of liberty Chartley, without putting foot in stirrup, vaulted on the -noble beast's back; and it gave a neigh of joy, as if it felt that its -lord was free again.</p> - -<p class="normal">Then, drawing forth his purse, the young nobleman would have rewarded -the man who held the charger; but, in a voice Chartley seemed to know, -he said, "Wait, my lord, wait, I go with you to guide you. You go to -Tamworth, is it not?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"To Lichfield, to Lichfield," said Chartley; and he spurred on upon -the road which he knew right well. They rode on, the man following -some way behind, till Atherston was left afar, and the chance of -pursuit became less and less. At the distance of about four miles from -the little town, Chartley was overtaken by his follower, who had put -his horse into a gallop, to catch the fleeter beast which the young -nobleman was riding.</p> - -<p class="normal">"To the left, my lord," he said, "to the left, if you must needs to -Lichfield, though the earl's army is at Tamworth. The small bridle -paths save us a mile and a half, and will not be bad now."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Who are you?" asked Chartley, turning his horse into a narrow lane, -to which the man pointed. "I know your voice, surely."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Poor Sam the piper," answered the man, "though now rich, and no -longer the piper. Now you marvel how I should have been pitched upon -to guide you; but that is soon explained. I was sent over by one you -know well, to bear some news to the Lord Stanley, and there I heard -what was likely to befall you. I would have found means to get you -out, if Heaven had not put it in the good lord's mind to be kindly -himself; but as I was recommended to him as a man of discretion, who -could be trusted, and as I caught a glance of the good earl of -Richmond going in, and told the Lord Stanley so, he might think that -it would be well to employ me in what would put me out of the way."</p> - -<p class="normal">"The good earl of Richmond!" exclaimed Chartley; "has he been with the -Lord Stanley?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Ay, this very night," replied the other, "with nought but two grooms -in company, which shows that he knows his game is very sure."</p> - -<p class="normal">Chartley mused as he sped onward; for though few doubted, except the -one who might have been expected to doubt most, that secret -intelligence existed between Richmond and his step-father, yet the -young nobleman had not imagined so bold a step as a personal -conference would be ventured by either.</p> - -<p class="normal">It was still dark when he arrived at Lichfield; and Chartley spent -more than half an hour in awakening the sleepy ostlers from their -beds, and obtaining some accommodation at the principal inn, for there -were, at that time, two in the good town. No information could he -procure either regarding Iola or his men; for there had been so many -persons passing to and fro within the last eight-and-forty hours, that -no description served to distinguish one from another. There was no -lady lodging in the inn, however, one of the ostler's assured him, -except "the fat canoness of Salisbury;" and as to the troops, they had -all marched out of the town, and gone to Tamworth. Forced to be -satisfied with this small intelligence, Chantey gave orders that his -good guide should be well taken care of, and that he himself should be -awakened at sunrise; and he then cast himself down upon a bed. For the -greater part of two nights and two days he had not closed an eye; and, -notwithstanding much love and some anxiety, drowsiness overpowered him -in a moment; the many busy thoughts which were whirling through his -brain grew confused and indistinct, and he slept.</p> - -<p class="normal">From a deep, dead, heavy slumber, he woke with a start, and gazed -around. The room was full of light. Sounds of busy life made -themselves heard on all sides. There was a girl crying water-cresses -in the street, and people laughing and talking in the full-day bustle -of the world, while a creaking wood-cart wended slowly along, singing -its complaining song. It was evident that he had been forgotten; and, -going to the door, he called loudly for the chamberlain.</p> - -<p class="normal">The man declared that he knew not any one was sleeping in that room, -but informed him it was well nigh ten o'clock, which was confirmed the -moment after by the church clock striking. No other information could -he afford, but that no lady was in the house, except the fat canoness; -and Chartley instantly set out to inquire at the other inn. There he -was likewise disappointed; and to every place where he was likely to -gain intelligence he went in vain. We all know how much time may be -occupied in such searches; and at that period Lichfield was full of -monasteries and convents, at each of which Chartley applied. At only -one of them did he gain any indication of the course of the fair -fugitive. It was a small community of hospitable nuns, where the -withered portress informed him that three ladies had slept there the -night before, and she did think that one of them had come up to the -gates with an odd-looking brown man.</p> - -<p class="normal">"We do not lodge men," she said, "and so he went somewhere else; but -the lady we took in; and she, and the servant, for so he seemed, went -away at ten this morning."</p> - -<p class="normal">Chartley demanded eagerly whither they had gone; and the old sister -replied, "To Coventry, I believe. All the three ladies went to -Coventry, to get out of the way of the war; for they said there would -be a battle to-day. Have you heard of such a thing, young gentlemen?"</p> - -<p class="normal">Chartley replied he had not; but the good woman's words threw his mind -upon another train of thought, and he hurried back to the inn.</p> - -<p class="normal">He leaned his head upon his hand, and meditated. "A battle, and I not -present? That must never be. Yet Richmond was at Tamworth last night, -and Stanley at Atherston. It can hardly have been fought. Yet it may -be ere nightfall. It is now near four; and many a field has been -fought and won, in the hours of daylight that are left." Thus he -thought, and then, starting up, he called aloud, "Drawer Drawer! Bring -me some wine and bread. Bid them prepare my horse instantly, and call -the man who came with me hither."</p> - -<p class="normal">The wine and bread were brought, and Sam was soon in the young lord's -presence.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Here, my good friend," said Chartley, giving him some gold. "You have -served me well, on this and other occasions, as I learn. I will reward -you further if I live. Now I must away to Tamworth; for I hear there -will be a battle soon, if it be not already fought; and I would not, -for one half a world, be absent."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Nor I either, my good lord," replied Sam. "I have always prayed to -see another battle, ere I died; and now I've a good chance, which I -will not lose. So, with your leave, I'll ride with you."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Be it as you like," replied Chartley. "But keep me not; for I depart -as soon as I have quitted my score."</p> - -<p class="normal">One cannot always get out of an inn, however, as soon as one likes; -and in those days all things moved more slowly than they do now. There -is nothing in which the advance of society is seen so much as in -facilities; and there were few of them in Europe at that period. Men -were often a month going the distance they would now travel in two -days; and at every step of the road some drag or another was put upon -the wheels of progress. The score was five minutes in reckoning, -although the items were but few. The horse was not ready when this was -done, and more time elapsed. Both the ostlers had gone out to see a -procession of grey friars; and the bit and bridle were not to be -found. In all, half an hour was consumed; and then Chartley set off, -and rode to Tamworth with speed.</p> - -<p class="normal">When he entered the little town, all seemed solitary. The setting sun -shone quietly through the deserted street. Not a cart, not a waggon -was to be seen; and a dog that came out of one of the houses, and -barked at the heels of the horses, was all the indication of life -within the place.</p> - -<p class="normal">"They have marched out, sir," said Sam, who followed him close behind; -"and all the good folks have gone after them to see the sport."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Then there has been no battle yet," answered Chartley; "but we must -find out which way they have gone. There is a man talking with some -women down that road. Ride down and gather news, while I go on to the -inn, the Green Dragon, there, and order some provender for the -horses."</p> - -<p class="normal">Before Sam returned, Chartley learned that Richmond, with his small -army, had marched towards Market Bosworth. "He won't get there without -a fight," said the elderly host, who had come out at his call, "for -King Richard is at the Abbey of Merrival. God help the right!"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Did you chance, mine host," demanded Chartley, without dismounting, -"to see with the earl's army the bands of the Lord Chartley?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"To be sure, to be sure," answered the host. "They are joined with Sir -John Savage's men. They marched in the rearguard."</p> - -<p class="normal">Chartley asked their colours and ensigns; and the old man answered -readily, showing that in reality he knew nothing about them, and, -after feeding his horses, Chartley rode on towards Bosworth.</p> - -<p class="normal">As the young nobleman advanced, he met numerous groups of Tamworth -people returning to the town at nightfall; and from them he obtained -information sufficient for his guidance. The two armies, he found, -were in presence, and a battle on the following day was certain. -Richard's head-quarters were at the Abbey of Merrival; but Richmond -had pitched his tent in the field. The number of the king's army was -greatly exaggerated, and many of the men shrugged their shoulders, as -they spoke of Richmond's force, evidently judging that his cause was -hopeless.</p> - -<p class="normal">"He had better have waited a day or two," said an elderly man, riding -on a cart, which had apparently conveyed some of the baggage of the -army; "for people were flocking to him very fast; but, fighting now, -he will be overwhelmed; and, if I were you, young gentleman, I would -keep myself from others' ill-luck."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I should deserve bad luck myself if I did," replied Chartley, and -rode on.</p> - -<p class="normal">Night now fell heavily; but soon after a noise began to be heard. -First came a murmur, like that of the distant sea; and then, as the -young nobleman spurred forward, louder sounds separated themselves -from the indistinct buzz. Voices shouting, ringing laughter, and the -clang of arms were heard. Twice, too, there was the blast of a -trumpet, but that was more distant; and Chartley found that he must be -approaching the rear of Richmond's host.</p> - -<p class="normal">Small as was the force with which the earl had landed in England, and -small as it was still, when he encamped on Bosworth field, it had not -failed to attract, as it marched on, a number of the idle, the -dissolute, and the greedy, in even a greater proportion than is -usually the case. The camp was kept clear by sentinels; but, for full -half a mile before he could see a tent, Chartley passed through -innumerable groups of men and women, and even children, from Tamworth -and Lichfield, and as far as Shrewsbury. He had no difficulty in -passing the sentinels, however, though he had not the word; for, to -say truth, they kept no very strict watch, and his appearance was -passport sufficient.</p> - -<p class="normal">When he had entered the little camp he inquired for his own men in -vain for nearly an hour. It was too dark to see the colours, or the -ensigns of the different leaders, though most of them had a banner or -a pennon pitched before his tent; and along the whole of the left wing -of the army he passed without gaining any intelligence. At length some -one told him that a body of horse, which had joined the earl at -Tamworth, was encamped on the extreme right, near a morass. "There -where you see those fires," said the man; "for they brought no tents -with them, and have cut down the apple trees in a goodman's orchard to -keep themselves warm."</p> - -<p class="normal">Chartley turned his horse thither, and rode on quickly; but at the -first fire he came to, he found no faces round it which he knew; and -the men took little notice of him. As he drew near the second, -however, a man who was sitting by it turned his head, and then, -starting on his feet, waved his steel cap in the air, crying out -aloud, "Here is my lord!"</p> - -<p class="normal">Instantly the whole body sprang up, with a shout of gratulation; and -in a minute after the master of the young lord's household, and -several of the leaders of his bands, had gathered round his horse.</p> - -<p class="normal">Chartley's first inquiries were with regard to Iola; but the account -of the master of his household satisfied him that she had taken her -way to Lichfield, accompanied by Ibn Ayoub alone. He thought it -strange, indeed, that she should have gone on to Coventry; but he -doubted not that something had occurred which he knew not of, to make -her decide upon such a course. The old man went on to explain that, -following the directions contained in the letter which his lord had -left with him, the soldiers, on being expelled from Fazely by the -troops of Lord Stanley, had immediately gone to join the forces of the -earl of Richmond.</p> - -<p class="normal">"We were in sad alarm about you, my lord," he continued; "but, thank -God, here you are safe. Would it were so with good Sir William Arden -too."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Ha, have you news of him?" demanded Chartley.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Ay, my lord, sad news," replied the old man. "Two men, who came over -to join us from the enemy, about an hour ago, tell me that he was -caught upon the road, stealing a nun from a convent; that he and his -men turned and fought like tigers, while she and a woman who was with -her made their escape. I said it was nonsense, for Sir William was -always a very sober and discreet gentleman, rather rough with his -tongue, but a good man at heart. One of the men, however, swears it is -true, declares that he kept guard over him himself, in the king's camp -out there, and that his head is to be struck off to-morrow morning, -between the two armies."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Are the men here?" demanded Chartley.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Yes, my noble lord," replied the other.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Then bring them to me," said Chartley; and, dismounting from his -horse, he seated himself by the fire.</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h3>CHAPTER XLVIII.</h3> -<br> - -<p class="normal">Shakspeare made a mistake. The morning was bright and clear, and the -sun shone strong and powerfully, drawing up a light mist from a marsh -which lay between a part of the earl of Richmond's forces, and the -much larger army of the king. At an early hour in the morning, all was -bustle and preparation; and, notwithstanding a great inferiority in -point of numbers, a calm and steady cheerfulness reigned in Richmond's -army, which was not the case in the royal host. There each man looked -upon his neighbour with doubt; and rumours were current of emissaries, -from the enemy's camp, having been seen busily passing from tent to -tent, amongst the king's troops, which was evinced by the doggerel -lines fixed on the duke of Norfolk's pavilion, as well as by several -other circumstances which made a noise for a moment or two, but were -soon forgotten. The impression, however, existed and gained strength, -that much dissatisfaction reigned amongst the leaders; and when the -forces of Lord Stanley appeared on the one wing, and those of his -brother on the other, without advancing nearer than half a mile, fresh -doubts and suspicions arose.</p> - -<p class="normal">The man[oe]uvres on both parts, before the action began, were few and -simple. A tardy sort of lethargy seemed to have fallen upon Richard; -and though he rode forth with a crown upon his helmet, as if desirous -of courting personal danger, he moved his men but little, till the day -was considerably advanced.</p> - -<p class="normal">Richmond rode over the whole field in person accompanied by the earl -of Oxford, Sir William Brandon, Sir Gilbert Talbot, and Sir John -Savage, and caused the marsh to be examined and its depth tried with a -lance. He then commanded a considerable movement to the left, with a -slight advance of the right wing, so as to allow the extreme of the -line to rest upon the edge of the morass, with the position which he -thus took up fronting the north west. He was observed to smile when he -saw the position assumed by Lord Stanley, in front of the morass and -to his own right, commanding the whole of the open field, between the -two armies; and, immediately after, the earl of Oxford pointed out to -him another considerable body of troops, advanced to a spot exactly -facing those of Stanley; so that the ground enclosed between the four -lines appeared very like a tilt yard on a large scale.</p> - -<p class="normal">Richmond nodded his head, merely saying, "They are Sir William's men." -Then, turning round, he demanded, "Which are Lord Chartley's troops?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Here, my lord," said a man from the ranks.</p> - -<p class="normal">"I fear poor Chartley is not here to head them," said the earl of -Oxford, in a low tone, running his eye along the line.</p> - -<p class="normal">"He was here last night," said Richmond, "and sent me a strange note, -saying he would be with me betimes this morning; but he has not come."</p> - -<p class="normal">"My lord, the enemy is moving in two lines," said a horseman, riding -up; and, cantering back to the centre of his force, the rest of -Richmond's arrangements were soon made. His disposition in some -respects resembled that of his adversary. In two lines also his men -were ranged, having somewhat the advantage of the ground, but the -great advantage of the sun behind them, while the fierce rays shone -strong in the face of Richard's soldiers.</p> - -<p class="normal">The earl of Oxford commanded the first division, Richmond himself the -second, Talbot one wing, and Sir John Savage the other; and all the -leaders knew that death awaited them if they were taken.</p> - -<p class="normal">In what are called pitched battles, not brought on by skirmishing or -any accidental circumstance, but where parties meet with the full -determination of casting all upon the stake, there is generally a -short pause before the strife begins. For, perhaps, a minute, or a -minute and a half, after the troops were within less than a bow shot -distance of each other, and each could see the long line of faces -under the steel caps of the archers in the opposite ranks, there was a -dead silence; the trumpets ceased to sound; each bowman stood with his -arm and foot extended; the fiery cavalry reined in their horses; and -one might have heard a drop of rain, had it fallen upon the dry grass. -Then a baton was thrown up into the air on Richard's side; and every -man of the centre front line drew his bow string to his ear and sent -an arrow into the ranks of the enemy. Nor was this flight of missiles -without reply; for closer and faster still, though not so numerous, -fell the shafts from Richmond's little host amongst the adverse -troops. Their aim was truer too; for the eyes of his men were not -dazzled by the bright beams which poured into the faces of the enemy; -and many of the foe were seen to fall, while a good deal of confusion -spread along the line. Mounted on a tall horse, on the summit of a -little mound, towards the centre of the second line, Richmond could -see over the whole field; and, marking the disarray of the centre of -Richard's army, he said aloud, "Now, had we men enough for a charge on -that point, we might win the day at once."</p> - -<p class="normal">"You and yours were lost, did you attempt it," said a deep voice near; -and, looking round, the earl saw a tall figure, mounted on a strong -black horse, with armour not the best polished in the world, though of -fine quality and workmanship, and bearing in his hand a sharp stout -lance, which, in addition to the long tapering point, carried the -blade of an axe, like that of a woodman, forming altogether a weapon -somewhat resembling an ordinary halbert. His horse was totally -without armour; even the saddle was of common leather but the stranger -bore the spurs of knighthood; and over his neck hung a gold collar, -and a star.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Why say you so, sir knight?" demanded Richmond.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Look to the right," replied the stranger; and, turning his eyes in -that direction, the earl beheld a horseman galloping at full speed -towards the centre of Richard's line, where the king evidently was in -person, while the large body of horse, commanded by the duke of -Norfolk, was seen gliding down between the marsh and the troops of -Lord Stanley. It was a moment of intense anxiety; but at the same -instant Chartley's squadrons of horse were seen to fall back a little, -in good order, so as to face the road leading round the morass; and -Stanley's whole force wheeled suddenly on its right, so as to join the -earl's line, and nearly hem in the duke of Norfolk, between it and the -marsh.</p> - -<p class="normal">Richard's cavalry instantly halted and retreated in perfect array, -just in time to save themselves from destruction. They did not escape -without a charge however; and at the same time, the two front lines of -the armies advancing upon each other, the battle raged hand to hand -all along the field.</p> - -<p class="normal">It was just at this moment, that coming up from the rear, a little to -the left of the spot where the earl of Richmond stood, rode forward a -young knight in splendid armour, mounted on a beautiful grey horse. By -his side was a man no longer young, though still in the prime of life, -totally unarmed, even without sword or dagger; and behind came ten -spears wearing the colours of Lord Chartley. The young nobleman paused -for an instant, gazing over the field, and the strange confused sight -presented by a battle, at a period when cannon were little used and no -clouds of smoke obscured the view, extending over a line of more than -half a mile. Here squadrons of horse were seen charging the enemy's -line; there two cavaliers seemed to have sought each other out in -single combat; in one place a company of foot was pushing on with the -levelled pike; in another, the archers with their short swords were -striving hand to hand; the banners and pennons waved in the wind, -fluttered, and rose and fell; and long and repeated blasts of the -trumpet sounded to the charge, and animated the soldiers to the fight.</p> - -<p class="normal">It was a wild, a sad, a savage, but an exciting scene; and Chartley's -face, as he gazed with his visor up, looked like that of an eager -young horse, furious to start upon a course.</p> - -<p class="normal">"There is the earl, Chartley," said Sir William Arden. "That is his -standard. The taller one in front must be the man."</p> - -<p class="normal">Chartley instantly turned his horse, and rode up to Richmond's side.</p> - -<p class="normal">"I am late upon the field, my lord," he said, "but I will make up for -lost time. I went to save my noble friend, Sir William Arden here, -from the headsman's axe. I beseech you keep him with you; for you will -find his counsel good, and he is unarmed. Whither shall I go?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Lord Chartley, I presume," said Richmond; "a gallant soldier never -comes too late to be of glorious use. There, straight forward on your -path is your noble friend, the earl of Oxford. I beseech you give him -help. He is sore pressed and terribly outnumbered."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Follow!" cried Chartley, turning to his men and raising his arm; and -down he dashed into the thickest of the fight.</p> - -<p class="normal">Small though the aid was, the effect was soon apparent. Some ground -which had been lost was regained in a instant; the first line of -Richard's troops was pressed back in the centre. The banner of Lord -Oxford made way in advance; but just then Sir William Brandon -exclaimed, "Richard is coming down with all his power, my lord."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Then must we not be behind," replied Richmond. "Advance the banner, -Brandon! Good men and true, keep your men back yet a while, till you -receive command. Then down upon the boar, and pin him to the earth; -for I will leave my bones upon the field or win this day." Thus saying, -he rode on towards a spot which had been left vacant in the struggle -which was going on; and those who were above could see that a group of -some twenty or thirty persons from the enemy's side moved down as if -to meet him. The greater part, however, paused where the two lines -were still striving man to man, some engaging in the combat, some -gazing idly forward.</p> - -<p class="normal">One, man, however, with two or three pages running by his side, burst -from the rest like the lightning from a cloud. He was covered with -gorgeous armour; his mighty horse was sheathed in steel; and circling -round his helmet, beneath the waving plume, appeared the royal crown -of England. Straight towards Richmond he dashed, trampling down a foot -soldier in his way, and rising the gentle slope, with his lance in the -rest, without the slightest relaxation of his horse's speed.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Mine, mine!" cried Sir William Brandon. "Mine to win a coronet!" and, -giving the standard to another, he couched his lance and bore down to -meet the king. But that unerring hand failed not. The eye was but too -keen. Straight in the throat, the point of Richard's spear struck the -standard-bearer, and hurled him dead upon the plain, while the -knight's own lance shivered on the king's corslet. Brandon's horse -also rolled upon the ground, but Richard leaped his charger over it -with a shout, and spurred on.</p> - -<p class="normal">Without asking leave, Sir John Cheney darted forth to meet him. His -fate, however, was but little better; for, though not slain, he was -hurled wounded from the saddle in an instant. But at that moment -Richard was met by a new adversary; for, as he was rapidly approaching -the spot where Richmond stood, the tall knight, whom I have mentioned, -sprang from his unarmed horse and threw himself on foot in the king's -way. Richard checked up his horse for an instant at the unexpected -sight, and dropped the point of his lance, to strike this new -adversary in the face; but ere he could accomplish it, with a -tremendous sweep of both his arms, the knight struck him on the side -of the helmet. The lacings gave way. The casque and crown fell off; -and a deep stream of gore flowed down the pale face, which was seen, -as he hung for a moment in the stirrups. The horse rushed on, but the -king soon dropped upon the field; and three or four footmen, springing -on him, dispatched him with their daggers.</p> - -<p class="normal">The tall knight leaned for an instant on the staff of his weapon, and -looked up and down the field; and then, as if he had gathered all in -that brief glance, he exclaimed, in a loud and vehement voice. "Now, -earl of Richmond, gaze not on the dead, but on to support the living! -Sir William Stanley is charging the enemy in the flank. On with your -whole force, and the day is yours. If not, it may be lost still. Give -me my horse, boy."</p> - -<p class="normal">The order was instantly given; the whole force of Richmond moved down -the hill; and though the struggle was protracted for some twenty -minutes longer, it was no longer doubtful. All was confusion indeed, -in the ranks of Richard; but Norfolk and many other noble gentlemen -struggled to the last, and died without yielding an inch of ground. -Northumberland took no part in the fight; and others fled soon, while -others again remained to be made prisoners; but steadily the earl of -Richmond's line advanced, till the whole of Richard's host either lay -on Bosworth field, or were in full flight across the country.</p> - -<p class="normal">At the end of two hours from the commencement of the battle the -trumpet sounded the recall, and Richmond's tent was set up, on the -spot where Richard had commanded at the beginning of the day. The -curtains were drawn up, and knights and noblemen crowded round, while -the field was searched, to ascertain the numbers and the quality of -the slain. Litters, formed hastily of lances laid across, were seen -moving about the plain, bearing the wounded from the field of carnage; -and many a group might be observed, in distant parts of the prospect, -engaged probably in less pious offices.</p> - -<p class="normal">Richmond, now on foot, and with his casque laid aside, stood for -several minutes gazing silently on the scene before him; and, oh, who -shall tell what passed through his mind at that moment? How often has -the flood of success a petrifying effect upon the heart! and, -doubtless, it was so with him; but he had then just stepped into those -Lethe waters, which so often drown in dull oblivion all the nobler and -more generous feelings of the soul.</p> - -<p class="normal">Nobody ventured to break upon his silence; for it was evident to all -that strong emotions were busy at his heart, till, at length, a voice -without, said--</p> - -<p class="normal">"Lord Stanley!" and many others took it up, repeating, "Stanley, -Stanley!"</p> - -<p class="normal">Richmond took a step forward; but ere he reached the verge of the tent -Stanley himself appeared. He bore in his hands the royal croft, which -Richard had carried on his helmet, and, without a word, he advanced -straight to Richmond, and placed it on his brows. Then, bending the -knee, he said, aloud--</p> - -<p class="normal">"Hail, king of England! Long live our sovereign lord, King Henry the -Seventh!"</p> - -<p class="normal">Richmond embraced him warmly, while a shout rent the air, and some -words passed between the two which no ear heard. Then advancing, with -the crown upon his head, Henry graciously thanked those around him for -their aid and service, adding a few words upon the glorious event of -the day.</p> - -<p class="normal">"There is one, however," he continued "whom I see not here, and to -whom double thanks are due. I cannot name him, for I know him not; but -his hand defended my life when two gallant gentlemen had fallen before -my enemy, and his hand slew the usurper of the crown I now bear. He -wore round his neck the collar and star of some foreign order, and--"</p> - -<p class="normal">"He is fearfully wounded, sire," said Lord Chartley, who had just come -up. "That litter, which you see yonder, is bearing him, at his own -request, to the abbey of St. Clare. He earnestly besought me to -entreat your grace, if your time would permit, to pass thither for a -brief space, on your march. He is a man of high and noble birth, -allied to a royal house; but I must say no more. The rest he will tell -you, if he live till you arrive."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Noble Lord Chartley, to you too I owe great thanks," said Henry; "and -they shall be paid in coin that you will like full well. But this -noble gentleman has taken strong possession of my mind. How did he -fall?--I saw him late in the battle, safe and foremost."</p> - -<p class="normal">"True, sire," replied Chartley; "he was before Sir George Talbot and -myself, as we followed the last troops of the enemy which kept -together, to disperse them. Then, however, just on the brow of the -hill, the young Lord Fulmer turned with his band, and bore my noble -friend down with his lance while he was contending with two men in -front."</p> - -<p class="normal">"But you avenged him, Chartley," said Sir George Talbot; "for you -carried the young serpent back on your lance's point, like an eel on -an eel-spear. He will never take odds against a gallant knight more."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I know not that," said Chartley; "for I saw him remounted and led -away between two servants. But, if your grace will visit the noble -gentleman of whom you spoke, I will forward at once and bear the -tidings after him."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I will not fail," replied Henry; "'tis but a mile or two about, I -believe; and, as soon as we have taken some order here, I ride thither -ere I go to Leicester."</p> - -<p class="normal">Chartley thanked him and retired; and the king, calling a page, -whispered to him some brief words, adding aloud, "To Tamworth then, -with all speed. Say, there must be no delay--no, not a moment."</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h3>CHAPTER XLIX.</h3> -<br> - -<p class="normal">In a small room, in the stranger's lodging at the abbey of St. Clare -of Atherston, lay the form of a wounded man, upon a low bed. A lady -sat by the pillow weeping; and the abbess was near the head of the -bed, with her eyes overflowing too, while the priest stood near, with -a boy in white garments behind him.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Not yet, not yet, good father," said the wounded man; "I am still -very strong--too strong. Nay, weep not, Mary, you have shed tears -enough for me already in your life; and in good sooth thus would I -die. My heart is light and happy, my dear wife, and I look up in trust -and hope. Knightly in my harness have I met my fate; and I am cheered -by my lady's love. I trust Richmond will come before I go; for, as my -journey is long, we might not meet again for many years; and I would -fain insure all, that there be no shade on my departure."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Lord Chartley expects him instantly, my noble son," replied the -abbess; "he is waiting his arrival now under the gateway. Oh, had I -known your rank, and dear ties to my poor brother St. Leger, when I -but thought you a poor woodman, you should have had every tenant of -the abbey to lead to fight for the house of Lancaster."</p> - -<p class="normal">"The king!" said Chartley, opening the door; and, with a slow step, -and look of sympathy, Henry entered and approached the dying man's -bed-side.</p> - -<p class="normal">"How can I enough thank you, sir?" he said; "and how can I enough -regret the fate of such a knight?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Regret it not, sir," replied the other, gazing firmly in Henry's -face; "for I regret it not. Nor do I need thanks. I have fought for -that side on which I fought and bled in years gone by. I am content to -die in arms. I wish no better. But I have a boon to crave, not for -ought done in this day's field, but for a service rendered months ago, -when Bishop Morton bore to Henry of Richmond the proof of a plot to -yield him to the hands of his fell enemy."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I remember well," replied Henry; "but he told me he had those proofs -from a poor woodman, who was called Boyd."</p> - -<p class="normal">"He told you true," replied the other; "the woodman lies before you, -but, none the less, Thomas Boyd, earl of Arran."</p> - -<p class="normal">Henry started, and his politic mind ran on into the future; but he -replied, almost at once--</p> - -<p class="normal">"I vowed that I would grant whatever boon was in my power to grant to -that same woodman, and I will not break my oath. Name your request, my -noble friend."</p> - -<p class="normal">"It is but this," answered the earl, "that by your royal will and -prerogative, passing over all opposition and obstacles, you will at -once, and without delay, unite in marriage a lady, called the Lady -Iola St. Leger, to that young lord standing behind you now."</p> - -<p class="normal">"But," cried the abbess, "there is a contract--"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Cease, cease, good mother," said the wounded man; "such contracts -must be thrown in the fire. There is a better contract between her and -Chartley."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Nay, but my brother, her uncle," said the abbess, "he signed the -contract on her behalf with the Lord Fulmer."</p> - -<p class="normal">"A better than her uncle signed the contract with that young lord," -replied the dying earl; "her father, lady abbess--her father, whom -this Lord Fulmer slew. Ay, marvel not, lady! Your brother's daughter -died, in his sad flight, when dark misfortune overwhelmed the house of -Lancaster. There were then dangers and miseries as dark, over my -hapless race; and that generous friend took my dear child, to save her -and me from greater difficulties still, and passed her for his own. -Slain by the foe, he had not time to tell his weaker but more -prosperous brother, or yourself; but the proofs are in my hands. Did I -not visit her here, more than ten years ago, and gaze at her, through -my closed visor, lest the tears that washed my cheek should betray the -secret? Have I not watched over her ever since that hour, when I fell -wounded for the house of Lancaster? But here are the proofs, my lord. -Take them, and grant my boon. I would fain have seen them wedded -before I die; but that cannot be, for I am waning fast; and now, let -no vain mourning for the dead impede their union--no, not an hour. Do -you grant my boon, Henry of England?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"I do, and willingly," replied Henry; "were that contract even valid, -I would cast it to the winds, sooner than see the child wed the -slaughterer of her father. But it cannot be valid. Nay, my good lord, -I will do more. With these proofs in my hand, I will o'erstep all -ceremonies. You said but now, that you would fain see this union ere -your death. If you do really so will--if it will be comfort to you on -your bed of pain, from which I trust you will yet rise to health--let -the marriage take place at once, and I will justify it with my -sanction. My first act of royalty shall be to bring a satisfaction to -a friend who has served me."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Alas, it cannot be, sir," replied the earl of Arran; "my child is far -away--at Coventry, they tell me; and my race is well nigh run. I -shall, indeed, rise from this bed to health, but it will be to health -immortal, I do trust; but never more can I behold my child."</p> - -<p class="normal">Sobs from the side of his pillow interrupted him, and, taking Mary's -hand, he said, "Nay, Mary, nay!--My lord, the king, you were about to -speak."</p> - -<p class="normal">"'Twas but to say," replied Henry, "that this may not be so impossible -as you think. I trust your hour is still far off. Your voice is -strong."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Because my will is strong; but I interrupt you rudely," said the -earl.</p> - -<p class="normal">"However that may be--if to see your child safe, guarded by a marriage -bond with one who can protect her strongly, and will love her truly, -or I am no judge of men," replied Henry, "can bring comfort to you, -even in this hour, 'tis not impossible--All wait here a moment."</p> - -<p class="normal">He left the room, and in a few minutes returned, leading in Iola -herself.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Now calmly, my good lord," he said, as the earl raised himself -quickly to catch her in his arms, "I sent for her from Lichfield to -Tamworth yesterday, thinking this good lord would meet her there. -Three hours ago I sent for her on Bosworth field, bidding her join me -here, and purposing to unite her to my noble friend at once. Thus your -boon was granted, ere it was asked, and you must seek another. She -has brought a bridesmaid with her, too, from Tamworth. The Lady -Constance, too, I think they called her."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Let it be quick," said the earl of Arran, in an altered voice, -unclasping his arms from the fair form they held; "let it be quick!"</p> - -<p class="normal">A few moments passed in explanation to Iola, and for a time she bent -down her eyes and wept. But the earl repeated, "Let it be quick! Iola, -lose no time;" and, drying her eyes, she said, sadly but sweetly,</p> - -<p class="normal">"I will obey you to the last, my father."</p> - -<p class="normal">There was a group ranged round the bedside of the dying man, some five -minutes after. The princess Mary held his hand in hers, and leaned her -head upon his shoulder. Iola's hand was clasped in that of Chartley; -and the priest, with an open book, read hurriedly the binding words, -while the low answer gave assent.</p> - -<p class="normal">As he ended, the wounded man said, in a voice as strong as ever, -"Amen!" and then placed his hand over his eyes.</p> - -<p class="normal">It rested there.</p> - -<p class="normal">They gazed upon him anxiously. He stirred not.</p> - -<p class="normal">The priest hurried to his side, and removed the hand. He looked upon -the face of the dead.</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h3>FOOTNOTES</h3> -<br> -<p class="hang1"><a name="div4_01" href="#div4Ref_01">Footnote 1</a>: The first mention that I find of the real arquibuse, or -match lock, is in an account of the household of the Duke of Burgundy -in 1474; but small cannons, called in France coulverines á la main, -were used long before. They are represented in the old miniatures, as -resting on the shoulder of one soldier, while another takes the aim -from behind, and the first applies the match at the word of command.</p> - -<br> -<p class="hang1"><a name="div4_02" href="#div4Ref_02">Footnote 2</a>: For an account of the terrible effect--approaching to -madness--of the death of Edward, Prince of Wales, upon Richard III. -and his queen, see the history of Croyland Abbey.</p> - -<br> -<p class="hang1"><a name="div4_03" href="#div4Ref_03">Footnote 3</a>: Richard's attempt to obtain possession of the person of -Richmond by bribing Landais, the duke of Britanny's minister, is too -well known to need particular notice.</p> -<br> -<p class="hang1"><a name="div4_04" href="#div4Ref_04">Footnote 4</a>: He referred, of course, to the superstitious notion -prevalent not alone at that time but for long afterwards, that if the -body of a murdered man was touched by the hand of his assassin, the -wound of which he died would bleed. I may remark that such -superstitions were recognised even in Scottish courts of justice long -after they were extinct in England.</p> - -<br> -<p class="hang1"><a name="div4_05" href="#div4Ref_05">Footnote 5</a>: This singular adventure of the earl of Richmond, when on -his way between Lichfield and Tamworth, and the fact of his passing -the night at a farm house, are not inventions of a romance writer, but -historical facts.</P> -<br> - - -<h3>THE END.</h3> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> - - - - - - - - - -<pre> - - - - - -End of Project Gutenberg's The Woodman, by George Payne Rainsford James - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE WOODMAN *** - -***** This file should be named 50329-h.htm or 50329-h.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/5/0/3/2/50329/ - -Produced by Charles Bowen from page scans provided by -Google Books (the Bavarian State Library) - - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will -be renamed. - -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United -States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. 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