But it must not be imagined that Sir Jocelyn's whole time was passed in
attendance on the court. Not a day flew by that he did not pay a visit
to Aveline. She had taken a little cottage, where she dwelt in perfect
seclusion, with one female attendant, old Dame Sherborne,--the same who
had accompanied her on her compulsory visit to Sir Giles Mompesson,--and
her father's faithful old servant, Anthony Rocke. To this retreat,
situated in the then rural neighbourhood adjoining Holborn, Sir Jocelyn,
as we have said, daily repaired, and the moments so spent were the most
delicious of his life. The feelings of regard entertained for him from
the first by Aveline, had by this time ripened into love; yet, mindful
of her solemn promise to her father, she checked her growing affection
as much as lay in her power, and would not, at first, permit any words
of tenderness to be uttered by him. As weeks, however, and even months,
ran on, and no one appeared to claim her hand, she began to indulge the
hope that the year of probation would expire without molestation, and
insensibly, and almost before she was aware of it, Sir Jocelyn had
become complete master of her heart. In these interviews, he told her
all that occurred to him at court--acquainted her of his hopes of
aggrandisement--and induced her to listen to his expectations of a
brilliant future, to be shared by them together.
The severe shock Aveline had sustained in the death of her father had
gradually worn away, and, if not free from occasional depression, she
was still enabled to take a more cheerful view of things. Never had she
seen Sir Jocelyn so full of ardour as on the day after the banquet, when
he came to communicate the intelligence of the jousts, and that he was
selected to essay his skill against that of Buckingham. The news,
however, did not produce upon her the effect he expected. Not only she
could not share his delight, but she was seized with anticipations of
coming ill, in connection with this event, for which she could not
account. Nor could all that Jocelyn said remove her misgivings; and, in
consequence, their meeting was sadder than usual.
On the next day, these forebodings of impending calamity were most
unexpectedly realised. A mysterious personage, wrapped in a long black
cloak, and wearing a mask, entered her dwelling without standing upon
the ceremony of tapping at the door. His presence occasioned her much
alarm, and it was not diminished when he told her, in a stern, and
peremptory tone, that she must accompany him to Sir Giles Mompesson's
habitation. Refusing to give any explanation of the cause of this
strange summons, he said she would do well to comply with it,--that,
indeed, resistance would be idle as Sir Giles was prepared to enforce
his orders; and that he himself would be responsible for her safety.
Compelled to be satisfied with these assurances, Aveline yielded to the
apparent necessity of the case, and set forth with him, attended by Dame
Sherbourne. With what passed during her interview with the extortioner
the reader is already acquainted. She had anticipated something
dreadful; but the reality almost exceeded her anticipations. So
overpowered was she by the painful intelligence, that it was with
difficulty she reached home, and the rest of the day was occupied with
anxious reflection. Evening as usual brought her lover. She met him at
the door, where he tied his horse, and they entered the little dwelling
together. The shades of night were coming on apace, and in consequence
of the gloom he did not remark the traces of distress on her
countenance, but went on with the theme uppermost in his mind.
"I know you have ever avoided shows and triumphs," he said; "but I wish
I could induce you to make an exception in favour of this tilting-match,
and consent to be present at it. The thought that you were looking on
would nerve my arm, and make me certain of success."
"Even if I would, I cannot comply with your request," she replied, in
an agitated tone. "Prepare yourself, Jocelyn. I have bad news for you."
He started; and the vision of delight, in which he had been indulging,
vanished at once.
"The worst news you could have to tell me, would be that the claim had
been made," he observed. "I trust it is not that?"
"It is better to know the worst at once. I have received undoubted
information that the claim _will_ be made."
A cry of anguish escaped Sir Jocelyn, as if a severe blow had been dealt
him--and he could scarcely articulate the inquiry, "By whom?"
"That I know not," she rejoined. "But the ill tidings have been
communicated to me by Sir Giles Mompesson."
"Sir Giles Mompesson!" exclaimed Sir Jocelyn, scarcely able to credit
what he heard. "Your father would never have surrendered you to him. It
is impossible he could have made any compact with such a villain."
"I do not say that he did; and if he had done so, I would die a thousand
deaths, and incur all the penalties attached to the sin of disobedience,
rather than fulfil it. Sir Giles is merely the mouth-piece of another,
who will not disclose himself till he appears to exact fulfilment of the
fatal pledge."
"But, be it whomsoever it may, the claim never can be granted," cried
Sir Jocelyn, in a voice of agony. "You will not consent to be bound by
such a contract. You will not thus sacrifice yourself. It is out of all
reason. Your father's promise cannot bind you. He had no right to
destroy his child. Will you listen to my council, Aveline?" he
continued, vehemently. "You have received this warning, and though it is
not likely to have been given with any very friendly design, still you
may take advantage of it, and avoid by flight the danger to which you
are exposed."
"Impossible," she answered. "I could not reconcile such a course to my
conscience, or to my reverence for my father's memory."
"There is still another course open to you," he pursued, "if you choose
to adopt it; and that is, to take a stop which shall make the fulfilment
of this promise impossible."
"I understand you," she replied; "but that is equally out of the
question. Often and often have I thought over this matter, and with much
uneasiness; but I cannot relieve myself of the obligation imposed upon
me."
"O Aveline!" cried Sir Jocelyn. "If you allow yourself, by any fancied
scruples, to be forced into a marriage repugnant to your feelings, you
will condemn both yourself and me to misery."
"I know it--I feel it; and yet there is no escape," she cried, "Were I
to act on your suggestions, and fly from this threatened danger, or
remove it altogether by a marriage with you--were I to disobey my
father, I should never know a moment's peace."
There was a brief pause, interrupted only by her sobs. At length Sir
Jocelyn exclaimed quickly, "Perhaps, we may be unnecessarily alarming
ourselves, and this may only be a trick of Sir Giles Mompesson. He may
have heard of the promise you have made to your father, and may try to
frighten you. But whoever is put forward must substantiate his claim."
As those words were uttered, there was a slight noise in the apartment,
and looking up, they beheld the dusky figure of Clement Lanyere, masked
and cloaked, as was his wont, standing beside them.
"You here?" cried Sir Jocelyn, in astonishment.
"Ay," replied the promoter; "I am come to tell you that this is no idle
fear,--that the claim _will_ be made, and _will_ be substantiated."
"Ah!" exclaimed Aveline, in a tone of anguish.
"You will not seek to evade it, I know, young mistress," replied the
promoter; "and therefore, as you have truly said, there is no escape."
"Only let me know the claimant's name," cried Sir Jocelyn, "and I will
engage he shall never fulfill his design."
"O no; this must not be--you must not resort to violence," said
Aveline. "I will never consent to owe my deliverance to such means."
"You shall have all the information you require after the jousts on
Thursday," said Lanyere; "and let the thought strengthen your arm in the
strife, for if you fail, Aveline Calveley will have no protector in the
hour of need."
With this, he departed as suddenly and mysteriously as he had come.