Within Sir Giles Mompesson's vast and gloomy mansion, it has been said
there were certain rooms which, from their size and splendour, formed a
striking contrast to the rest of the habitation. Never used,--except on
extraordinary occasions, when their owner gave a grand entertainment
with some ulterior object,--these apartments, notwithstanding their
magnificence, partook in some degree of the chilling and inhospitable
character of the house. Even when brilliantly lighted up, they wanted
warmth and comfort; and though the banquets given within them were
sumptuous and profuse, and the wine flowed without stint, the guests
went away dissatisfied, and railing against their ostentatious host.
Thus, though the stone walls were hung with rich tapestry, the dust had
gathered thickly upon its folds, while portions of the rugged masonry
were revealed to view. The furniture was massive, but cumbrous and
ill-assorted; and the gilded ceiling and Venetian mirrors, from want of
care, had become tarnished and dim.
Such as they were, however, these apartments were assigned to Aveline,
when she was forcibly brought to the extortioner's habitation, as
before narrated. Allowed to range within them at pleasure, she was kept
strictly within their limits. The doors were constantly guarded by one
or other of the myrmidons; and any communication with the external world
was impossible, because the windows were partially grated, and looked
into a court-yard. Beyond this, she was subjected to no restraint; and
her own attendants, Dame Sherborne and old Anthony Rocke, were suffered
to remain with her.
Had it not been for her exposure to the annoyance of frequent from Sir
Francis Mitchell, and her anxiety about Sir Jocelyn, Aveline would not
have found her confinement so intolerable. But the enamoured old usurer
persecuted her at all hours, and she could never be free from the
intrusion, since the doors could not be shut against him. Sometimes, he
came accompanied by his partner, though more frequently alone, but ever
with the same purpose,--namely, that of protesting the violence of his
passion, and seeking to soften her obduracy. As may be well supposed,
his pleadings, however urged, were wholly ineffectual, and excited no
other feelings, except those of detestation, in her bosom. Such a state
of things could not endure for ever; and her only hope was, that finding
all his efforts to move her fruitless, he would in time desist from
them. Not that she was without other fearful apprehensions, which were
shared by her attendants.
Nearly a fortnight had thus passed by, when, one day, during which she
had seen nothing of her tormentor, and was rejoicing at the
circumstance, the repast usually served at noon was brought in by a
fresh serving-man. Something in this person's manner, and in the meaning
glance he fixed upon her attracted her attention; otherwise, he was a
man of singularly unprepossessing appearance. She addressed a few words
to him, but he made no reply, and became suddenly as reserved as his
predecessor had been. This deportment, however, it presently appeared,
was only assumed. While placing a flask of wine on the table, the man
said in a low tone--"I am a friend of Sir Jocelyn. Constrain yourself,
or you will betray me. Sir Francis is watching us from an eyelet-hole in
the door. Drink of this," he added, pouring wine into a goblet.
"Is it medicated?" she asked in a whisper, regarding him anxiously.
"It is supposed to be so," he answered, with a scarcely perceptible
smile. "Drink, I say. If you do not, you will mar my project. 'Tis
well!" he added, as she raised the goblet to her lips. "A few words must
explain my design. Sir Francis will fancy you have swallowed a
love-potion. Take care not to undeceive him, for on that belief rests
your safety. When he presents himself, as he will do shortly, do not
repulse him as heretofore. Smile on him as kindly as you can; and though
the task of duping him may be difficult and distasteful to you, shrink
not from it. The necessity of the case justifies the deception. If he
presses his suit, no longer refuse him your hand."
"I cannot do it," murmured Aveline, with a shudder.
"You MUST," rejoined Luke Hatton--for it was he--"or incur worse
dangers. Provoked by your resistance, Sir Francis has lost all patience,
and is determined to accomplish his purpose. Knowing my skill as a
brewer of philters, he has applied to me, and I have promised him aid.
But have no fear. Though employed by him, I am devoted to you, and will
effect your deliverance--ay, and avenge you upon your persecutors at the
same time--if you follow my instructions exactly. Raise the goblet to
your lips again. Quaff its contents without apprehension--they are
perfectly harmless. Force smiles to your features--give tenderness to
your tones, and softness to your glances--and all will be won."
And with a grin, which, though intended to encourage her, somewhat
alarmed Aveline, he took up the flask of wine and departed.
As her singular adviser had predicted, it was not long before the old
usurer made his appearance, evidently full of eagerness to ascertain
whether any change had been wrought in her disposition towards him by
the wonder-working draught. Dissembling her aversion as well as she
could, and assuming looks very foreign to her feelings, she easily
succeeded in persuading him that the philter had taken effect, and that
all obstacles to his happiness were removed. Transported with rapture,
he fell upon his knees, and besought her to crown his felicity by
consenting to their union on the following day. Bewildered by various
emotions, yet still managing to play her part, she returned an answer,
which he construed into an affirmative; and now quite beside himself
with delight, the amorous old dotard left her.
The alteration in Aveline's manner and deportment towards her
persecutor, did not escape the notice of her attendants, and greatly
perplexed them. Dame Sherborne ventured to remonstrate with her, hoping
she could not be in earnest; and old Anthony Rocke bluntly told her he
would rather see her in her grave than the bride of such a hoary
reprobate as Sir Francis. Aware that her actions were watched, Aveline
thought it best to dissemble, even with her attendants; and they were
both convinced she was either bewitched or had lost her senses; and in
either case bitterly deplored her fate.
Nor must it be supposed that Aveline herself was without much secret
misgiving, however skilfully and courageously she might act her part.
The appearance of Luke Hatton, as we have more than once remarked, was
calculated to inspire distrust in all brought in contact with him; and
with no other proofs of his sincerity except such as were furnished by
the circumstances, she might well entertain suspicion of him. While
professing devotion, he might intend to betray her. In that event, if
driven to extremity, she resolved to liberate herself by the only means
that would then be left her.
In the evening, Luke Hatton paid her a second visit; and on this
occasion comported himself with as much caution as at first. He
applauded her conduct towards Sir Francis, whom he stated to be most
effectually duped, and counselled her to persevere in the same course;
adding, with his customary sardonic grin, that grand preparations were
making for the wedding-feast, but he thought the cook's labours likely
to be thrown away.
Next day, Aveline found all her counsellor had told her was correct.
Several of the rooms, hitherto thrown open to her--in especial the great
banquetting-chamber--were now closed; and it was evident from the sounds
that reached her ear--footsteps hurrying to and fro, loud impatient
voices, and noises occasioned by the removal of furniture, and the
placing of chairs and tables, together with the clatter of plates and
dishes--that preparations for a festival were going on actively within
them. Nothing could equal the consternation and distress exhibited by
Dame Sherborne and old Anthony Rocke; but, faithful to her scheme,
Aveline (however she desired it) did not relieve their anxiety.
At noon, Luke Hatton came again. He seemed in great glee; and informed
her that all was going on as well as could be desired. He counselled her
to make two requests of Sir Francis. First, that he should endow her
with ten thousand marks, to be delivered to her before the nuptials;
secondly, that she should be permitted to shroud her features and person
in a veil during the marriage ceremony. Without inquiring the meaning of
these requests, which, indeed, she partly conjectured, Aveline promised
ready compliance; and her adviser left her, but not till he had once
more proffered her the supposed philter, and caused her to place the cup
containing it to her lips.
Ere long, he was succeeded by Sir Francis, arrayed like a bridegroom, in
doublet and hose of white satin, thickly laid with silver lace, and a
short French mantle of sky-blue velvet, branched with silver flowers,
white roses in his shoes, and drooping white plumes, arranged _à
l'Espagnolle,_ in his hat. Besides this, he was trimmed, curled, oiled,
and would have got himself ground young again, had such a process been
practicable.
But though he could not effect this, he did the next thing to it, and
employed all the restoratives suggested by Luke Hatton. He bathed in
milk, breakfasted on snail-broth, and swallowed a strange potion
prepared for him by the apothecary, which the latter affirmed would make
a new man of him and renovate all his youthful ardour. It certainly had
produced an extraordinary effect; and when he presented himself before
Aveline, his gestures were so extravagant, and his looks so wild and
unpleasant, that it was with the utmost difficulty she repressed a
scream. His cheeks were flushed, as if with fever, and his eyes dilated
and burning with unnatural lustre. He spoke almost incoherently, tossing
his arms about, and performing the antics of a madman. The philter; it
was clear, had been given him, and he was now under its influence.
Amid all this strange frenzy, so alarming to Aveline, he dwelt upon
nothing but his inextinguishable passion, and never for a moment
withdrew his fevered gaze from her. He told her he would be her slave
for life, proud to wear her chains; and that she should be absolute
mistress of his house and all his possessions. On this she mustered up
resolution to prefer the requests she had been counselled to make; and
Sir Francis, who was in no mood to refuse her anything, at once acceded
to them. He laughed at the notion of the veil--said it was a delicate
fancy, and quite charmed him--but as to the ten thousand marks, they
were utterly unworthy of her acceptance, and she should have thrice the
amount delivered to her in a silver coffer before the ceremony. With
these, and a great many other professions, he released her from his
presence, which had become well-nigh insupportable.
After a while, a magnificent bridal-dress of white satin, richly trimmed
with lace, together with a thick white veil of the largest size,
calculated to envelope her whole person, were brought her by a young
damsel, who told her she was engaged to serve her as tire-woman; adding,
that "she hoped she would be able to satisfy her ladyship, as she had
already served the Countess of Exeter in that capacity."
"Why do you call me 'ladyship' child?" said Aveline, without looking at
her. "I have no right to any such title."
"But you soon will have," replied the young tire-woman; "as the bride of
Sir Francis, you must needs be my Lady Mitchell."
Checking the rejoinder that rose to her lips, Aveline cast her eyes, for
the first time, on the speaker; and then, to her great surprise,
perceived it to be her village acquaintance, Gillian Greenford. A
significant glance from the blue eyes of the pretty damsel impressed her
with the necessity of caution, and seemed to intimate that Gillian
herself was likewise in the plot. And so it presently appeared she was;
for when the damsel had an opportunity of talking quite in private to
her new mistress, she informed her of the real motive of her coming
there.
"I am engaged, by one who wishes you well, to take your place, sweet
Mistress Aveline, and to be married in your stead to Sir Francis
Mitchell," she said.
"And have you really consented to such an arrangement?" rejoined
Aveline. "Is it possible you can sacrifice yourself thus?"
"I am not to be sacrificed," returned the damsel quickly. "If it were
so, I would never have agreed to the scheme. But I am told I shall get a
fortune, and--"
"Oh, then the ten thousand marks are for you!" interrupted the other. "I
now see the meaning of that part of the plan. But what else do you hope
to accomplish?"
"The deliverance of my unfortunate lover, Dick Taverner, from the
Fleet," she answered.
"But how is your marrying this wicked old usurer to effect your object?"
inquired Aveline. "You may save me by the proposed stratagem; but you
will destroy your own happiness, and all your lover's hopes."
"No, no, I shall not," replied Gillian, hastily; "I can't tell how it's
to be managed, but I am quite sure no harm will happen to me, and that
Dick's restoration to liberty will be the reward of the service--if such
it may be called--that I am about to render you. He wrote to me so
himself."
"At least, tell me by whom you are engaged, and I can then judge of the
probability of the rest happening in the way you anticipate?"
"Do not question me further, sweet mistress," replied the damsel, "for I
am bound to secrecy. But thus much I may declare--I am the agent of one,
who, for some purposes of his own--be they what they may--is determined
to counteract all Sir Francis's vile machinations against you, as well
as those of his partner, Sir Giles Mompesson, against your lover, Sir
Jocelyn Mounchensey. Ah! you understand me now, I perceive, sweet
mistress! You have been guarded by this unseen but watchful friend,
during the whole of your confinement in this dreadful habitation; and he
has kept an equal watch over your lover in the Fleet."
"What! Is Sir Jocelyn a prisoner in the Fleet?" exclaimed Aveline. "I
knew it not!"
"He is; but the period of his deliverance approaches," replied Gillian.
"The secret friend I spoke of has bided his time, and the hour is at
hand when full measure of revenge will be dealt upon those two wicked
oppressors. He has long worked towards it; and I myself, am to be an
humble instrument towards the great end."
"You astonish me!" cried Aveline, greatly surprised at the change in the
damsel's manner as well as by what she said.
"Do not perplex yourself, fair mistress," pursued Gillian. "All will be
speedily made known to you. But now, no more time must be lost, and we
must each assume the character we have to enact. As I am to be the
bride, and you the tire-woman, you must condescend to aid me in putting
on these rich robes and then disguise yourself in my rustic attire. We
are both pretty nearly of a size, so there is little risk of detection
in that particular; and if you can but conceal your features for a short
while, on Sir Francis's entrance, the trick will never be discovered.
All the rest has been arranged; and I am a mere puppet in the hands of
others, to be played as they direct. Bless us! how beautiful this dress
is, to-be-sure!--what satin!--and what lace! The Countess of Exeter has
just such another. Have you heard that her ladyship has gained her cause
against those wicked Lakes, who conspired against her? But what am I
saying--when I know you cannot have heard of it! Well, then, it occupied
five days in the Star-Chamber; and Sir Thomas and his lady are sent to
the Tower, and Sarah Swarton to the Fleet. Poor creature! she is to be
whipped and branded, and to do penance in Saint Martin's church.
Dreadful! but I won't think of it. I wonder how this dress will become
me! How astounded Dick Taverner would be, if he could only see me in it!
Mayhap he will--there's no saying. And now, fair mistress, may I crave
your aid?"
While Gillian was thus running on, she had partially disrobed herself,
and very soon afterwards was decked out in the rich attire, the effect
of which upon her own person she was so desirous of ascertaining. When
her toilet was complete, she could not help running up to a mirror, and
on seeing the reflection of her well-formed figure now displayed to
unwonted advantage, she clapped her hands and cried out with girlish
delight.
Allowing her to gratify her feelings of vanity by the contemplation of
her pretty person for a few minutes, Aveline felt it necessary to recal
her to her situation, and her own transformation into the tire-woman was
speedily effected,--Gillian's dress fitting her exactly. The
light-hearted damsel was quite as much pleased with this change as with
the other--and vowed that Aveline looked far better in the rustic gown,
than she herself did in the silken attire.
But time pressed; and as Sir Francis might surprise them, they hastened
to complete their arrangements. Gillian's comely features, as well as
her sumptuous robe, had to be obscured by the envious veil; and as it
was thrown over her, she could not help heaving a sigh. Aveline then put
on the muffler which had been worn by the country damsel, and their
disguises were complete.
Not a minute too soon. At this juncture a tap was heard at a door
communicating with the adjoining apartment, and the voice of the old
usurer was heard inquiring whether his bride was ready. An answer in the
affirmative was given by Aveline, and, with a throbbing heart and
faltering steps, Gillian prepared to obey the summons.
The door was thrown open, and mustering up all her resolution, she
passed through it. Both Sir Francis and his partner were waiting to
receive her. The latter was richly attired, but had not changed the
sombre hue of his habiliments, even for the anticipated ceremonial,
being clad, as usual, in black. In this respect he offered marked
contrast to the gay apparel of the antiquated bridegroom, as well as by
the calmness of his deportment and the stern gravity of his looks.
Behind them stood Luke Hatton, bearing a heavy silver coffer, of antique
workmanship.
"What means this veil?" cried Sir Giles, gazing suspiciously at Gillian
as she emerged from the inner room, followed cautiously by Aveline, who
was wrapped in the muffler. "Why are the bride's features thus hidden?"
"A mere whim, Sir Giles--a pleasant fancy," replied the old usurer. "But
she must have her way. I mean to indulge her in everything."
"You are wrong," rejoined the extortioner. "Make her feel you will be
her master. Bid her take it off."
"On no account whatever, Sir Giles. I have only won her by submission,
and shall I spoil all at the last moment, by opposing her inclinations?
Of a truth not."
"Who is the maiden with her?" demanded Sir Giles, scrutinizing Aveline,
with a keen glance. "Why does she wear a muffler? Is that a whim,
likewise?"
"Perchance it is," replied Sir Francis; "but I have given no consent to
it. She is only the tire-woman."
"Come, mistress, unmuffle. Let us see your face," cried Sir Giles,
striding towards the terrified maiden, who thought discovery was now
inevitable.
But Luke Hatton interposed to save her.
"Prevent this rudeness," he whispered, plucking Sir Francis's cloak.
"Prevent it instantly. If her whim be thwarted, I will not answer for
the consequences."
"Desist, Sir Giles--desist, I pray you!" cried the old usurer, in alarm.
"It is my bride's wish that her attendant be not interfered with--and
mine too."
"Well, be it as you will," replied the extortioner, testily. "But I
would not permit the impertinence were I in your case. The bride must
raise her veil when she stands before the priest."
"She shall do as she pleases," replied Sir Francis, gallantly. "If she
desires to hide her blushes, I will not put any compulsion upon her to
disclose them. Come, fair mistress," he added, taking the trembling hand
of the veiled maiden, "the priest awaits us in the further chamber,
where the ceremony is to take place, and where several of the noble and
illustrious guests who have consented to grace our nuptials are already
assembled. Some of the most illustrious personages in the land will be
present--the Marquis of Buckingham, and perhaps Prince Charles himself.
His Excellency the Spanish Ambassador has promised to come. Let us on,
then. Yet, ere we proceed further, I have to request your acceptance of
that silver coffer. The thirty thousand marks within it constitute your
dowry."
As he spoke Luke Hatton advanced, and, holding the coffer towards the
veiled damsel, so that she could touch it, said--"Place your hand upon
this silver box, and take possession of it, fair mistress. I am a
witness that Sir Francis Mitchell has freely bestowed it, with its
contents, upon you. It will remain in my custody till you require me to
deliver it up to you."