CICELY GUILDFORD.
IT was a relief to Miles when his father left him, and later that
day he was able to pay Master William Tyndale a call, and almost the
first news he heard was of the visit of the stranger, who came to have
a matter of conscience settled, the question being about a marriage
that was exactly parallel with that of the King. "And what was Master
Tyndale's judgment upon the matter?" asked Miles, anxiously, for he had
no doubt but that it concerned himself and Lady Audrey.
He had not mentioned his friend, or the translation of the New
Testament to his father, for he felt sure he would not approve of
such a thing being done, and so he did not know that his father had
ever heard the name of Master Tyndale, though he had taken him to St.
Dunstan's Church to hear him preach.
It was therefore some relief, and a source of amusement too, when he
heard what Master Tyndale had said about the proposed marriage, and
there was some hearty laughter at Sir Thomas Paton's expense when the
Monmouth family heard the news.
It made a talk, too, in city circles, but, when the King was mentioned
as having made just such a marriage, men spoke with bated breath,
though they thought the more, perhaps, upon the matter.
Feeling assured now that his father was not likely to press forward
this plan, Miles was the more eager to see Mistress Cicely Guildford
again, and ascertain for himself whether his father's surmise was
correct,—that the young lady felt kindly towards him.
But autumn was deepening into winter before he could go to Greenwich
again, and then he went in attendance upon his master, for the Cardinal
never went anywhere without a train of servants and several secretaries
in attendance upon him; and it was not until they had been at the
palace two or three days that he was free to go into the town and visit
his friends.
When he got there he found one of the younger girls in the garden,
gathering the last of the dill, and tarragon, and other herbs that were
in such continual demand for cookery.
Miles looked round, expecting to see the elder sister at this task, for
he knew that Cicely always took the lead in these matters.
Saucy Mistress Maud saw the look, and said instantly, "Cicely is not
here; she has gone to the Convent of St. Francis."
"Gone to the convent!" repeated Miles. "When will she be back?"
It was the girl's turn to exclaim now, "Whenever does a girl come back
from a convent?"
"But you mean she has gone to pay a visit for the day to one of the lay
sisters," said Miles, in a tone of trembling anxiety.
The tremble in the young man's voice arrested the girl's attention,
and, though she was only a girl, she felt there was trouble in store
for the friend whom they had all learned to love. She put down the
herbs she had been gathering, and came close to where he was standing.
"I don't think Cicely liked it," she whispered; "at the very last I saw
her crying several times, and I wished you would come, for I thought,
perhaps, if you knew you might—"
"Yes, yes; but tell me, she has not gone to become a nun?" panted Miles.
The girl nodded. "You see the Queen liked her, and that is always what
she wishes for her favourites,—that they should join a sisterhood. She
would become a nun herself if she could."
"Well, I heartily wish she would then, and perhaps when she knew what
it was like she would leave young girls to live a natural life."
He spoke very bitterly; and Maud Guildford could only look and wonder,
for she had never seen the young secretary in this mood before.
While they were standing there Lady Guildford came into the garden;
and, when Miles had bowed and greeted her, he asked quickly why Cicely
had gone to the convent.
A shadow passed over the lady's face. "It was not to please herself,"
she said, "but it was in fulfilment of a promise given to the Queen
several years ago. We postponed its fulfilment as long as we could,"
she added, "for we did not like parting with our home bird, Cicely
being such a help and comfort to us at home."
"Yes, yes, I know; and now you have sent her away," groaned Miles.
The lady looked at him, as Maud had done. Surely there was more than
mere friendship here, she thought; and then she wondered whether her
darling had carried this secret love with her to the convent, to make
her life bitter with regrets through all the slow years that must pass
over her head.
Her eyes filled with tears, and she still held the young man's hand as
she said, "Life is full of such sorrows!"
"Yes, it may be," said Miles, bitterly, "but who sends them? Who makes
them? Who has condemned Cicely and me to a life-long sorrow? I came
to-day to tell you that I loved your daughter better than life, and
to ask if I might win her love in return, and I am told that only
death can give her to me now! Is this fair? Is this just? You say my
Cicely did not go to please herself, but the Queen. What right has even
Queen Catherine to blight two young lives? She is a good woman all are
agreed, but it is also said she would be happier in the convent than at
the Court. Yet what right has she to condemn another to such a life?"
In his bitter disappointment Miles forgot where he was, or to whom
he was speaking, but the lady knew that incautious words were often
carried to the Court, and even to the Queen and young Princess, and so,
for fear mischief should follow upon it, she drew Miles into the house,
where they could at least talk over the matter without fear of being
overheard.
But the more Miles said, the more convinced the lady became that
Cicely fully reciprocated his affection, and that it was the hope of
seeing her lover once more that had made the girl watch so often and
so wistfully at the windows for a day or two before she went away. She
told Miles of this now, but it seemed rather to increase his distress
than to comfort him, to hear that Cicely might really have loved him,
as his father said she did; and he held up his hand, and said in a
hoarse whisper, "Do not make my burden harder than I can bear. To think
that she, my darling Cicely, is in the convent. But giving all her mind
and strength to its duties is bad enough, but to think of her pining
for the life we might have lived together, would be more than I could
endure. Certainly I shall try every means to get her released, and I
have much influence now, and the vows are not irrecoverable."
The lady shuddered. Hard as her child's lot might be, it would be
harder for everybody if she should dare to draw back, even though she
was as yet only a novice; for in the sight of the Queen she had been
a pledged nun for several years. Cicely had rather enjoyed the little
distinction this gave her among the immediate circle of the Queen's
ladies, and it had not been difficult for her to leave the more merry
of the Court festivities, for she loved the quiet of her own home far
more than the glare, and glitter, and gossip of the Court—even that
which surrounded the Queen, which was far more sedate than where the
King held undivided rule.
So she had been called "the little nun" for several years past, because
of her quiet domestic ways and pleasures, and it seemed to those who
only knew her about the Court that it was only natural that she should
become a nun in reality when she was old enough to take the vows; and
they rather wondered that this had been delayed so long, than that
Cicely had gone so early to the convent.
But this Court gossip had not reached her home, where Miles alone knew
her, and where she was always a merry, happy girl, while thoughtful and
careful to spare her mother trouble, and take her full share in the
domestic work that fell to the share of all ladies in those days.
It was this carefulness to be at hand when any domestic work was going
forward that made Miles look for her expectantly, when he saw her
sister in the garden gathering herbs, for it was this side of Cicely's
character that he knew. It was the quiet thoughtfulness that reminded
him of his sister, and had won his attention and regard, which so
slowly and imperceptibly changed into love, that he knew not that it
was there until his father's over-anxious eyes detected it.
It may have been that some prying Court gossip had also penetrated
their secret, and warned the Queen that if her little nun of the Court
was ever to be a veritable nun of the convent, there was no time to
lose in placing her within its shadow; for the arrangements had been
pressed on by the Queen in great haste at last, and there was little
time given to consider the momentous step that was to be taken.
When Sir Harry came home from his duties at the palace, and heard from
his wife the state of affairs, he was greatly concerned.
"Witless knave that I am!" he exclaimed, "I might have guessed that the
little wench would smile on such a gallant as Master Miles."
"But what good would it have served?" asked his wife, "even if Master
Miles had told us three months agone that he loved her; you forget our
word to the Queen, that she should go to the convent as soon as time
served."
"I am not likely to forget my duty to the Queen, good dame; but my duty
to my child lies even closer than that, and I should have made suit
to the Queen, that my promise and yours was given without Cicely's
consent, and how she had by her own unwitting love for this man made it
impossible for me to carry it out."
"But you are not sure that Cicely does love him," said his wife.
"Ah dame, I wish I could believe she did not, for what you now tell me
has made clear to me several things that I noticed in our little wench
before she went away. Would to God I had known of this earlier, and I
would have saved her from our rash promise, even though I offended the
Queen, and had to give up my post at Court for it."
Lady Guildford looked at her husband, and wondered whether she was
prepared to go to such a length as this. They were not wealthy people,
and their rank imposed upon them many expenses they could not afford
before they came to Greenwich, where they could now live in ease and
luxury, instead of almost pinching poverty, as they had to do before.
This might be the price they would have had to pay for holding their
daughter back from the convent, in the face of the Queen's wish that
she should go there; and in the silence that followed both were asking
themselves whether they were prepared to pay such a price for their
child's future happiness.
Possibly if they had thought it likely that the Cardinal's young
secretary would ask for her hand in marriage, they might have delayed
a little longer sending her to the convent, but no such thought had
crossed the minds of either mother or father. To them Cicely was
already appropriated to the service of the Church, and there the matter
ended so far as they were concerned.
They would gladly have welcomed Miles as a son-in-law, if they had
known his secret in time, but now they could only think with sorrow
that it had come too late. "Too late!" Ah, bitter, bitter words when
their thoughts turned to the convent, where their child was shut away
from the joys of life, as wife and mother; and where there was only too
good reason to fear she would ever be looking back with vain regret to
the time when she and Miles met in free and happy friendship, that had
grown deeper and more lasting, until it changed to love's supreme joy
and sorrow.
Miles had been left for Maud and the younger children to entertain,
while Sir Harry and Lady Guildford had been talking; and before they
went to join the young people, the lady said, "Do not speak of what you
think concerning Cicely."
"Why not, good dame? It may comfort the lad to know that she cared for
him before she went away, though it were sin for such a thought to be
encouraged now. I will be wary though, do not doubt, for the lad has
sorrow enough just now."
Sir Harry Guildford had no intention of doing more than speaking a few
kindly courteous words, that should let the young man know that his
suit would have prospered if Cicely had not been beyond their reach.
Somehow the children got an idea that they were not wanted just then,
and so Miles was left alone with his host; and the kindly words and
sympathetic tone were too much for his firmness just then, and before
he was aware of it, Miles was telling Cicely's father a good deal of
what he might have told her if she had been at home; and the baronet
listened, and at last told Miles that he believed Cicely fully returned
his love, although no words had been spoken between them.
When he heard this, a marvellous change seemed to come over Miles.
"You tell me truly, Sir Harry?" he almost demanded in his eager
impulsiveness, for all at once the sorrow that was almost tearful in
its tenderness, had changed to something that was akin to desperation,
as he said, "This has changed all things for me!"
"What do you mean?" asked Sir Harry, looking up in surprise, for Miles
had started from his seat, and looked as though he would storm the
convent itself to rescue Cicely.
"Sit down lad, sit down, there is nothing to be done," said Cicely's
father sadly.
"Nothing to be done!" repeated Miles. "I thought so a few minutes ago
when I believed I was the only one to suffer this heartache, but now
you tell me my Cicely has suffered, and will suffer the same, do you
think I can say there is nothing to be done? She is but a novice as
yet, and there is time for her to change her mind, and if she will only
say she does not fully assent to take the vows required of her, my
master will absolve her from all that has been done, and she will be
free to leave the convent."
"Yes, as a foresworn nun, whom all men will despise," said Sir Harry,
in a tone of bitterness.
Miles stared at him as though he did not understand. "Do you wish
your daughter to languish out her days in this convent that is but
little better than a prison? I believe that women as well as men, can
serve God better in doing the work of the world, be it ever so humble,
than in being shut away from their fellows to brood and pine for the
sunlight of God's love, and human love, which is as sunlight in this
dark world. No! no! Sir Harry, I must fight for the sunlight now—fight
for it for my Cicely as well as for myself. You have given me something
to work and strive for, and with it has come the strength. We may have
to wait long and work hard, before we can hope to see each other again;
but from this hour I shall hope, and that will nerve me to struggle
against all difficulties. Now will you tell me all you know about the
convent. If I may not see my Cicely, I may at least look upon the roof
that covers her."
But Sir Harry feared that Miles would commit some rash deed in his
present temper—climb the convent wall perhaps, and bring trouble and
disgrace upon Cicely as well as upon himself.
So instead of telling him just where the convent was situated, he
persuaded him to go back with him to the Palace of Placentia at once,
as he had heard the Cardinal enquiring for one of his secretaries
before he left.
Miles had little fear that he was the secretary wanted, but still he
was specially desirous of pleasing his master just now, and so he
readily gave up the idea of going to the convent, and returned to the
palace with the King's controller, talking, as they went, of the steps
that must be taken, if Cicely was to be rescued before the first year
of her novitiate was at an end.
Sir Harry was in favour of approaching the Queen and laying the whole
matter before her, while Miles thought it would be wiser to seek the
counsel and help of his master. As Cardinal Legate he would have the
power to grant a dispensation dissolving the preliminary vows already
taken, and the sooner the business could be set on foot the better.
Miles knew, though he did not tell his friend, that his master would be
ready to do anything that was likely to vex the Queen; for the Papal
Crown had again eluded his grasp, mainly through the duplicity of the
Emperor Charles the Fifth, the nephew of the Queen; and great as he
was, the Cardinal was not above paying off such slights and affronts.
And so to hear that Cicely was one of the Queen's ladies, who had been
half forced, half persuaded, to enter the convent by the Queen, would
powerfully aid in getting her out again, if the Cardinal was to be the
person approached upon the subject.
So, without stating the reason why he thought so, Miles said he was
sure the Cardinal would be more ready to help them on Cicely's behalf
than the Queen was likely to be; and so it was settled that Miles
should seek an opportunity of laying the whole matter before his master.