THE TOKEN.
And whilst the feast progressed apace,
The music swelled in joyous strain;
But midst the group was one fair face
That scarcely hid the look of pain.
And ever and anon she looked away;
And when the others went she turned to stay.
Early next morning, as Manners was engaged in collecting faggots
for the hungry fires at the Hall, he was startled to hear himself
addressed by his proper name.
He turned round aghast, but was reassured when he saw that it was none
other than Lettice's lover who stood by his side.
"Hush, Will," he said, "call me Hubert still; it were dangerous for my
name to be overheard. But thou hast news for me, I can read it in thy
face."
"Aye," replied the youth, "Mistress Dorothy sent Lettice with a
message for thee, but old Roger knew not where thou would'st be
found."
"Where is it?" cried the lover, impatiently, "let me see it; 'tis the
answer, I'll warrant me."
"Nay, I have it not. Lettice awaits thee at the hut; she would not
even let me bring it to thee, for her mistress, she says, charged her
to tell it to none but thee."
"At the hut," repeated Manners, as he started to return. Is she there
now?"
"She is awaiting thee; but, Master Manners, let me crave a favour
first."
"Quick, then," was the hasty reply, "tell me what it is, for I cannot
wait."
"Lettice has been rating me well," returned the downcast lover, as
he started to return with Manners. "She is angered against me that I
followed thee last night. She will not look at me now, and if I open
my mouth about it she swears she will speak to me no more. A word from
thee, good sir, would set the matter right again, else I fear me I
have lost her favour, and there be many round about who would gladly
take my place."
"Oh," laughed Manners, "I will see to that, and happen you may do me
some good service in return?"
"Aye, master, that I will," he replied, mightily relieved.
Manners said no more; his mind was too much occupied, his thoughts
were bubbling within him in furious turmoil. Leaving his companion
behind, he rushed hastily on, and never stayed his course until he had
reached his destination.
"The letter, Lettice, the letter," he cried, as he entered the hut.
"Nay, I have no letter, Master Manners," replied the maid. "My lady
bid me tell it thee instead."
"What is it? Is it yes, or no?" he cried.
"Neither, yet. My mistress went all through the weary night, and
thought of naught else but thee and the answer she should give."
"Poor Doll," ejaculated her lover, tenderly. "'Tis time all this was
ended, Lettice; she is fading away, yes, fading away, and what will
come of it all, if she says me nay, I tremble to think."
"She will not say thee nay, though, Master Manners," replied Lettice.
"I shall lose my mistress soon. She has told me all."
"Told thee all?" he echoed. "She will not say me nay, and yet she
consents not! You speak in riddles. Come, explain it all."
"She knoweth not her mind as yet," explained the maiden, "but I can
plainly see which way it will all end. Even as she poured her story
out to me I could see it; I could read it in her sobs and sighs. She
had not wept so long had she not loved thee so well; and her love for
thee is stronger than her other loves, else she had obeyed my lord the
baron by now. It needs no astrologer to tell all this."
"Heaven grant it may be so," replied Manners, fervently; "but what did
my Dorothy bid thee say? Thy words have made a sore commotion in my
heart, fair Lettice."
Lettice hung down her head and blushed at the unexpected compliment.
"Thou art to come to the feast to-night," she replied, "and my lady
will give thee answer there."
"I shall be there, Lettice," he promptly returned. "Tell her I shall
not fail her. But how shall I see her, has she thought of that?"
"We have arranged it all, good sir; thou hast but to do her bidding,
and all will go well."
She did not say that Dorothy had been too distracted in mind to make
any arrangements whatever, but, as a matter of fact, this duty had
devolved entirely upon the maid, for her mistress had done little
more than nod assent through her tears to all the propositions of
her companion. It was the ready wit of Lettice which had proposed
everything at just the time when Dorothy was quite unable to suggest
anything for herself.
"The wedding ceremony will take place in four more days," Lettice
continued, "and the feasting begins to-night."
Manners was aware of the fact, and he bowed his head in silent
acquiescence.
"And thou art to come to the Hall," pursued the maid. "Thou art
skilful on the lute, my mistress says."
"I can play the lute," he answered, "but what of that? Will she pipe
me an answer back?"
"Nay, Master Manners, listen. Thou art to be a musician for the once,
and must join the minstrels in the gallery."
"In the banqueting-room! Then I must seek a fresh disguise," he
said. "Hey, Lettice, I would it were night already, the day will
drag wearily enough for me, I trow; but I shall look for my reward
to-night. Thou art sure of what thou hast told me, Lettice, for were
she to refuse me after all, it were hard indeed!"
"Trust me, I am not like to be deceived; she wears her heart upon her
sleeve. Unless she changes, I have told thee aright, but my lady never
changes in her love. Ah, me, I shall lose my mistress soon, and I am
sad to think of it."
"Nay, Lettice," interposed Manners, "thou shalt marry honest Will, and
he shall be my chamberlain. Thou shalt be near Dorothy yet."
The maid's countenance flushed with joy at the prospect of such bliss.
"That were happiness, indeed," she cried, "for or! Master Manners, I
love her; I cannot help it--who could? I love her dearly; to part from
her--"
"Aye," interrupted Manners, "who could help it indeed. Tell her I
shall see her, I shall be there."
"And if it be 'yes,' my mistress will drop her fan upon the floor,"
went on Lettice; "but if the answer is 'no' she will tie a black
ribbon on it. Thou must watch well, but it will surely fall."
"Amen," said Manners. "Then I should be the happiest man on all the
earth."
"But happen my lady will not be there," the maid went on.
The lover groaned at the thought, and interrupted the maiden by so
doing.
"Well, then," she continued, "either will I give thee a letter, or,
if that cannot be, thou must go to Bakewell Church to-morrow eve, and
thou shalt find the letter squeezed behind the font. But there, I must
away; the day will pass all too quickly for me, for I have much to
do."
"Stay," he exclaimed, and plucking a sprig of holly from the bush
which grew beside the door, he placed it in the maiden's hand.
"Give her this," he said, "and tell her it came from me. Bid her keep
a stout heart within her; she must smile to-night."
Lettice took the little bunch of green and red, and making a
reverential curtsey to her lady's lover, she hastened away towards the
Hall; and, as Manners watched her retreating figure, he saw the form
of a man step out from among the bushes and join her company. It was
her lover, who had waited with an anxious heart to discover the effect
of the promised mediation.
True to his promise, Manners presented himself at the appointed time
at the door of the orchestra, though not without inward misgivings as
to the character of the reception in store for him. He need, however,
have had no apprehension on that score, for everything had been
conveniently arranged. The leader of the musicians (they were
principally hired Derby men) had been bribed, and when the esquire
presented himself for admittance he was warmly greeted.
"Well, Ralph!" exclaimed that worthy as he almost wrung Manners'
hands off in the heartiness of his embrace; "thou hast come to thy
old friend again, eh? We must cement the friendship this time with
a tankard of Haddon-brewed ale, and if thou hast not greatly altered
since I knew thee last, thou'lt not be averse to that."
"Of course not," replied Manners, readily; "and these are all fresh
men? I cannot see one of the old faces among them all."
"They are good fellows, though," returned their leader, proudly, "and
they play right well. Ha! here comes a messenger."
The musicians, most of whom had until now been idly leaning over the
balcony, gazing, with an interest of which they were not fully aware,
at the servants below as they were putting the finishing strokes to
the preparation of the feast, immediately took their allotted places,
and Manners found himself at the end of the row within the shadow of
the wall, and separated from the rest by the intervening body of the
leader.
"The baron sends this for the musicians," said the page, as he
deposited a large pitcher of ale upon the gallery floor. "They are
coming now, and he would like some merry tunes."
Even as the lad spoke the guests came pouring into the room; laughing,
joking, talking; almost all of them in the merriest possible mood.
Manners scrutinised their faces keenly, and he thought with regret of
the time not long ago, when he too had been one of the happiest of all
the merry guests of just such another party. But where was Doll? He
could not see her anywhere, and so intent was he on searching for his
beloved, that the blast of the trumpets by his side startled him and
made him fairly jump with surprise.
Mechanically he took his instrument up. The tune was simple and he
knew it well, but even as he played his eye wandered from the sheet
before him to scan the merry throng below.
Ha! there she was. He discovered her at last, but her gait was lively
and her dress was amongst the gayest of the gay; and as she entered
leaning upon Sir Edward Stanley's arm she wore a smile upon her face.
His heart misgave him at the sight. Had Lettice deceived him? For a
moment he entertained the thought, and he cursed the hope which she
had planted in his heart, and then in a fear of anxiety he lay the
lute down and looked to find the fatal bow of black.
What was it he saw? His gaze was rivetted upon her dress, by the side
of which hung the long fan. His eyes seemed to dance about, his head
swam, and, before he could determine the question, Dorothy had passed
by and taken her place at the table.
Father Nicholas asked a blessing which was even longer and more
wearisome than his predecessor had indulged in, and the occupants of
the gallery took advantage of the long interval to quaff the
greater portion of the refreshing beverage which Sir George, with
characteristic generosity, had sent up to them.
The prayer had a conclusion though, and when the good father reached
it the fact was signalised by an unanimous, if not very sincere "amen"
from the guests, while the band struck up another lively tune.
Throughout the meal the musicians had little rest. One tune was played
and immediately another was struck up to take its place, and the gay
company at the tables laughed and chattered the while with the utmost
vivacity and glee.
For Manners it was a weary time! There appeared to be no end to the
succession of dishes, and he impatiently waited for the time when the
signal would be given which would give him unbounded joy or doom him
to perpetual misery. To him, at least, the time dragged wearily along,
the tunes were lifeless, the courses were inordinately long, and
it was a positive relief to him when Nicholas rose up again and
pronounced a benediction, equally as long and dreary as the opening
grace.
The feast was over now, and as the guests defiled out of the room,
another air took the place of the one just concluded. As for Manners,
all his efforts were concentrated on watching Dorothy's every
movement. He ceased to play, for he had not the heart to continue,
and, without making any pretence to be playing his instrument, he laid
his lute down and watched with eager eyes.
He noticed that his rival sat by her side, nor did she repel him.
When she arose he rose too, and together they started to go out of the
chamber. Dorothy lingered; Stanley lingered too. What, O what could
she be lingering for? In his anxiety Manners stood up to see the
better. His pulse moved in jerks and bounds; his heart rose to his
throat, and he gasped for very breath.
The lively tune pursued the even tenour of its way; the burly form of
the leader screened him well from view, and that functionary was too
much engrossed in the execution of the piece to remark the peculiar
conduct of his companion.
Dorothy lingered to look at the pictures she knew so well; but Sir
Edward tarried at her side. It was evident he was not at all disposed
to leave her, and Dorothy herself at last gave up all hopes of his
doing so.
Sir Edward said something to her, but the noise drowned the sound of
his voice, and Manners could not hear what it was he had said, but the
next moment she permitted Stanley to lead her towards the door.
The poor minstrel's heart sank at the sight. Was this, then, the
fulfilment of Lettice's promise? Had he so misjudged the character
of his beloved? He dismissed the thought, for he could not believe it
even then.
No, it was not so. Dorothy paused and turned back. Manners
involuntarily stood up and followed her with his eyes. Margaret and
her betrothed were behind, and to them she went. His spirits revived
again.
She laughingly raised her fan and pointed to the carving on the wall.
Was the black knot on? He gasped for breath as he anxiously looked to
see. It surely was not there. At all events he could not see it, but
then his eyes might be deceiving him, for she was at the further end
of the room. Ah! would she only drop the fan which was held up in her
trembling hand, and then--
With a clatter the fan dropped upon the pavement. Sir Edward gallantly
stooped down and returned it to its fair owner, but Manners waited to
see no more. She was his; the signal had been given, and picking
up his instrument he set to and contributed as good a share to the
gladsome melody as any of his fellows.