We must now change the scene for a while, and carry the reader to a
very different part of the world. In a small cabinet in the old castle
of Stirling, sat a young man between nineteen and twenty years of age.
It was clear, and even a warm day, though the season was winter. No
snow, however, had yet fallen; the fields were still green; and the
beautiful scene that stretched out beneath the eye, with the tall
highlands mounting to the sky on the one side, with the fair lowland
scene spread out for miles on the other, displaying all the windings
of the Forth on its course towards the sea, little needed the leafy
foliage of the spring or summer to render it exquisitely beautiful. It
is probable, indeed, that he who built the high turret in which the
cabinet was situated, had little thought of affording a beautiful
scene to those who occupied it, for its destination was that of a
watch tower, and from its peculiar position it commanded the widest
possible view to be obtained of the country on three sides. The young
man whom I have mentioned, paid as little attention to the fair
landscape stretched beneath his eyes as the builder of the tower may
be supposed to have done, though he sat near one of the four small
windows which it contained, and the casement was wide open. In his
hand--as he had cast himself back, resting against the stone-work of
the window, with his head leaning forward, and his feet crossed over
each other--was a small piece of paper, closely written in a female
hand, and oft he gazed upon it, and oft he smiled, and once he raised
it to his lips and kissed it. There was something that pleased him
well in that paper. Oh, false and treacherous hopes of youth, how
often do ye prove sweet poisons, which we quaff gaily to our own
destruction! I once saw a curious piece of ancient sculpture,
representing a child playing with a serpent, and I have often thought
that the sculptor must have intended to typify the hopes of youth.
Still he gazed, and smiled, and played with the paper, and fell into
thought. What was it the enchantress promised him? What was the golden
dream which, for the hour, possessed the palace of the soul? I know
not. Woman's love belike, for he was as fair a youth to look upon as
ever mortal eye beheld--exceedingly like his brother, the Earl of
Gowrie, but of a lighter and a gayer aspect.
Hark! There is the sound of a foot upon the short flight of steps that
lead up to the turret from the large chamber below! It is not the step
of her he loves. It is not hers, the giver of the gay day-dream in
which he has been indulging; for see, he suddenly hides the paper, and
looks towards the door with a glance of surprise if not alarm. And yet
it is a woman's foot, light and soft falling; and the form that now
appears at the door is surely young enough and bright enough to waken
all the tenderest emotions of the heart.
But no! There is a slight gesture of pettish impatience, and he
exclaims, "What, Beatrice! What do you want now? Really, you tiresome
girl, one cannot have a moment's time for thought."
"Thought, Alex?" cried the young lady, with a laugh; "I wish to Heaven
you would think, or think to some purpose. I have come to make you
think if I can. Nay, nay, no signs of impatience, for I intend to
lecture you; and you must both hear and consider what I have to say.
Though I be a year younger, yet I am older in court and experience
than you are. Oh, if you get up that way I shall lock the door;" and
she did as she threatened, adding, "What do you laugh at?"
"At your sauciness, silly girl," answered Alexander Ruthven. "Where
should you get experience, and what right have you to assume all the
airs of sage old age?"
"I got my experience in this court," answered Beatrice, "where I have
been for eighteen months, and you but three; and as for age, Alex, a
woman of eighteen is as old as a man of four or five-and-twenty. So
now sit you down there, like a good boy, and listen to what I am going
to say to you."
Alexander Ruthven cast himself down in the seat again, with an air in
which a certain affectation of scornful merriment overlaid, but could
not conceal altogether, an expression of irritable mortification.
"Well," he said, "here I am. Pray to what do your sage counsels tend,
sister of mine?"
"They tend to your happiness, your safety, your honour, Alex,"
answered the Lady Beatrice, a little sharply, for though she had come
with the kindest as well as highest purposes, her brother's tone hurt
her.
"Now, gad's my life!" replied Alexander Ruthven, "I do believe that no
man upon earth would suppose this to be the gay, bird-hearted Beatrice
Ruthven."
"If so, what must be the brother's conduct which has so changed me,
which has made the gay, grave, the light-hearted, heavy?" demanded
Beatrice.
Her words now seemed to strike him more than those which she had
previously uttered, for there was a deep melancholy in her tone, which
gave their meaning additional point. "Well, Beatrice," he said, laying
his hand on hers, "you are a dear good girl, I believe, and love me
truly. Tell me what it is in my conduct that you object to?"
Beatrice instantly threw her arms round his neck and kissed him. "This
is like my own dear brother," she said; "and now I'll be Beatrice
again. But to the point. Do you know, Alex Ruthven--do you know that
you are flirting with a queen till it is remarked by many?"
The youth's cheek turned fiery red. "Pooh, pooh!" he cried, "this is
all folly! Can I not, in common courteous gallantry, profess my
devotion to my sovereign's wife without any evil construction? Surely
the difference between our stations is so great as to leave no ground
either for danger or suspicion."
"The difference of station is so great as to free her from all danger
of evil," replied Beatrice; "and I trust there are higher and holier
principles too which would keep you, Alex, from the same; but neither
those principles nor that difference will free either of you from
suspicion, nor will it free you from danger even of your life, if you
and she go on as you have been doing."
"Why, what have I done, and what ought I to have done?" demanded the
young man, almost sullenly.
"I can tell you better what you ought not to have done," answered his
sister. "You ought not to take private moments for stooping over the
queen's chair, and whispering words into her ear with low tones and
sweet smiles. You ought not, in any mask or pageant at the court, to
seek her out, and find her instantly, as if you had some secret way of
discovering which she is, amongst a hundred different disguises. You
should not have pages coming to you with billets to be delivered
secretly. I could tell you a dozen more things you should not do; but
methinks this is enough."
The young man's countenance had changed expression several times while
she spoke; but at last he answered, angrily, "Do you consider,
Beatrice, that you censure your royal mistress as well as me?"
"Heaven forbid!" exclaimed his sister. "I am her lady of honour; and
her honour is dear to me as my own. No, no, what she does, and what
she permits, is, I do believe, from a knowledge of the vast difference
between her and you--the barriers between the sovereign and the
subject, which she never dreams that you will venture to overstep. She
knows not the danger to herself and you, even of that which is done in
all innocence; and you, who should know it better, go rashly on, I
trust with a pure heart, but still with an evil aspect to the world.
Nay more, Alex, I tell you, you are watched by eager and jealous eyes,
and that your name--which never should be--is ever coupled in men's
mouths with the queen's. Beware, beware in time, my dear brother."
Alexander Ruthven put his hand to his head and gazed down on the
ground with an expression no longer that of anger, but rather of
sorrow, and almost of despair. "I knew not it would come to this," he
said. "Heaven and earth! what is to be done?"
"I thought you knew it not," said his sister, "and therefore, my dear
brother, I was resolved to warn you. As to what is to be done, I think
nothing can be more easy. Get leave of absence for a while, and when
you return, be careful of all your words and looks. Of your purposes
and acts, I believe--nay, I am sure--there is no need to warn you to
be careful. But remember, my brother, and ever bear it in mind, that
though you yourself and though the queen may be perfectly blameless, a
court is always filled, not alone with the suspicious, but with the
malevolent. It must ever be so in a place where one man can only rise
by another man's downfall. If your purposes be true and noble, and I
will not doubt they are so, and if your conduct be but prudent, the
task before you is an easy one."
The young man waved his hand and turned away his head. "More difficult
than you know," he said, gloomily. "Oh, how difficult!"
He seemed as if he were about to go on, but at that moment some one
suddenly laid a hand upon the lock of the door, and tried to open it.
The young man and his sister both started, and looked at each other
with an expression difficult to describe. Beatrice turned very pale,
her brother very red, for each fixed in their own mind upon a person
in that court as the yet unseen visitor; and in the imagination of
both it was the same. Another instant, however, undeceived them. The
door was shaken violently, and the voice of the king exclaimed, in
broad Scotch, "Hout! What's this? Wha's lockit in here? Alex Ruthven,
what need to steek the door, man?" At the same time he continued to
shake the door furiously, as if seeking to force his way in.
Beatrice instantly started forward and turned the key, and the door at
once flew open, nearly knocking her down. In the door-way appeared
James himself, with his coarse countenance flushed, and a heavy frown
upon his brow, while a little behind was seen one of his favourites at
that time, named Doctor Herries, and another form, the sight of which
made Beatrice's heart beat quick. Without noticing the young lady,
James took a stride into the room, and looked all round, with his
large tongue lolling about in his mouth, and the tip appearing between
his half-open teeth. It was evident that he expected to see some other
person besides those which the room contained; but there was no place
of concealment of any kind, and no means of exit except the door near
which he stood. The furniture itself was so scanty, that one glance
was sufficient to show him he had been mistaken. Prefixing one of
those blasphemous oaths in which he so frequently indulged, he
exclaimed, "What the de'il is the meaning o' this? Why should brother
and sister lock the door upon themselves?"
By this time, however, Beatrice had recovered her self-possession, and
she replied, with a low curtsey, "It was nothing, your majesty, but
that Alex and I have had a little bit of a quarrel; and I was
determined to have it out with him. He wanted to run away, and so I
locked the door."
"I think that's a flaw, lassie," replied the king, coarsely; "but gin
you've quarrelled with your billy, tell me what it's about, and I'll
soon redd ye."
"It's all redd up already, sire," answered Beatrice. The king,
however, was determined to hear more, and pressed her closely; but
Beatrice, without any want of respect, answered him with spirit. "I am
not going to tell of my brother, sir," she said. "When brother and
sister quarrel, it is better, like man and wife, that they should
settle their quarrels themselves; and ours is settled. So, with your
majesty's good leave, I'll not begin the matter again."
"Ay," murmured the king to himself, in a bitter tone. "These Ruthvens
are all rebels. By----" he continued, turning to Doctor Herries, "I
thought he had got some one else locked in here than his sister, and
that there were more sweet words than bitter ones going on."
Dr. Herries, a coarse hard-featured man, with a club foot, shrugged
his shoulders, saying, in a low voice, "Your majesty is seldom wrong
in the end; but you had better not let him see all that you suspect,
and give him some reason for coming."
"Oo, ay," said the king. "It had gane clean out o' my head. Weel,
Alex, my bairn," he continued, in a cajoling tone, which he not
unfrequently assumed when seeking to cozen some one, against whom he
meditated evil, into a belief that he was well disposed towards him,
"I was just bringing you this good knight here, who came this morning
with letters from your mother. 'Deed, his business, it seems, is mair
with your saucy titty than yoursel; but I thought it just as weel to
let you know what was going on before I put they two together."
Beatrice coloured till the blood mounted over her whole forehead, but
Alexander Ruthven answered somewhat sullenly, "I thank your majesty,
and am well pleased to see Sir John Hume. As for my sister, she is her
own mistress, and sometimes wants to be mine, too."
"There now," said the king, laughing, "the bairn's in the dorts; but
what he says is true enough, as Sir John may find out some day. She'd
fain manage us all. So now I shall leave you three together, for I've
got a world of work to do. A crowned heed is no a light ane."
Thus saying, he retired with his club-footed favourite, taking a look
back at the door to see the expression of the faces he left behind;
but well knowing his majesty's habits, all parties guarded their looks
till he was gone, and the door shut. Even then they were silent till
the heavy step of Doctor Herries was heard crossing the room below,
for the king's propensity to eaves-dropping was no secret in Stirling
Castle.
As soon as they were assured that he was gone, Sir John Hume, even
before he exchanged greetings with her he loved, turned to young
Ruthven, exclaiming, "In Heaven's name, Alex, what is the matter with
the king?"
"I don't know," answered Alexander Ruthven. "He does not make me the
keeper of his secrets."
"But this secret somehow affects you," replied Hume; "and it is worth
looking to, my friend, for James's enmities are very deadly, and his
fears often as much so."
"What makes you think that he has any ill will towards me, Hume?"
asked the young man, who, if the truth must be told, had been not a
little alarmed by all that had taken place.
"His whole conduct," answered Hume. "He kept me below nearly half an
hour talking the merest nonsense in the world--a heap of learned trash
about Padua and Livy, just like the daudling nonsense of old Rollock
of the High School, when he fell into his dotage. And yet he fidgeted
about the whole time, pulling the points of his hose in a way that
showed me he was uneasy. Then he called a page, and whispered to him
some message; and then he began again upon Livy, and roared out a
whole page of crabbed Latin, and asked me if I could translate it.
Just at that minute the boy came back again, and said aloud he could
not find her Majesty, upon which up started James, saying, 'We'll find
some one, I'll warrant. Come along, Cowdenknows. Come along, Herries.
You must come and see the work;' and then he said, as if he had
forgotten to say it before, 'I'll take you to Alex Ruthven, John
Hume.' All this time he was rolling away towards the door, like an
empty barrel trundled through the streets by a cooper's man. I never
saw him go so fast before in my life--muttering all the way, too, till
he came to this door; and he seemed in such a fury when he found it
locked, that I did not know what was to happen next; and a bright
sight for me was the face of this dear lady when I came in. Bright as
it always is," he added, taking Beatrice's hand and kissing it, "it
never looked so bright as then."
"Nay, nay, Hume," said Beatrice, "let us talk of more serious matter,
and seriously. What you say makes me very uneasy. I saw the king was
angry about something, and your account proves that his anger was not
light. Give us your counsel. What is best to be done?"
Alexander Ruthven had cast himself down again, and seemed buried in
bitter thought; but his sister's words roused him, and he started up,
exclaiming, "What I will do is decided. I will away to the king, and
ask leave of absence--absence!" he murmured to himself--"a bitter
boon! He well may grant that;" and without waiting for reply or
comment, he hurried from the room.
"And now, dear girl," said Hume, as soon as he was gone, "let us speak
of happier themes. Is my Beatrice changed, or does the heart of the
woman still confirm the promise of the girl?"
"Don't you see I am changed?" answered Beatrice, gaily. "I am half an
inch taller, and a great deal thinner. My mother was quite right to
say that she had no notion of a girl marrying till she had done
growing."
"Ay, but is the mind changed?" said Hume: "you have changed, my
Beatrice--from lovely to lovelier."
"Fie!" exclaimed Beatrice. "You might have made it a superlative, and
said loveliest, at once; but if you think I have become more beautiful
in person, why should you think I am uglier in mind? And would it not
be so, John Hume, to cast old love lightly away like a crumpled
farthingale? No, no; you know right well that Beatrice does not
change; and, therefore, all the time that you are asking such silly
questions, you call her your Beatrice, to show that you are quite
sure."
"And you are my own dear Beatrice, ever," said the young knight,
throwing his arm round her, with a smile; "and if there was the least
little bit of doubt engendered by two long years of absence, it was
the least little bit in the world."
"There, that will do," said Beatrice, turning away her head, but not
very resolutely. "But now, tell me about my dear brother Gowrie. Where
is he? What is he doing? When is he coming back?"
"When last I left him, he was at Voghera," replied her lover. "What he
was doing, was making love; and when he will be back depends upon the
state of the roads, the courage of Mr. Rhind, and the strength of the
fair lady who bears him company."
"Making love?" said Beatrice. "I heard something of this from my
mother. A fair Italian, is not she? Beautiful, I will answer for it:
for John knew what beauty is, even when a boy; but I do not think that
he would be taken by beauty alone. Heaven and earth! I must get
somebody to teach me a few more phrases of Italian than I have. Can
the dear girl speak French, do you know?"
"I cannot tell," answered Hume, laughing; "for I never spoke to her in
anything but English, which she speaks nearly as well as you do,
Beatrice, and better than I do. There is Florentine blood in her
veins, it is true; and the warm south shines out in her eyes, and
glows upon her cheek; but she is Scottish by birth, and half Scottish
by parentage. More I cannot tell you, Beatrice, for more I do not
know. She is protestant, too, Gowrie says; and certainly I never saw
her tell beads or heard her say Pater-nosters. She was likely to have
got roasted for the omission; but that, I trust, will secure her a
warm reception here."
"From me and mine, at least," replied Beatrice. "But if you mean from
the court, I do not know what to say. The king has his own notions of
religion as well as of government. They are both much the same, and
both somewhat strange. I believe he would willingly have the whole
land papist, if he might but be the pope. Indeed, he insists upon
being the pope of his own church, and makes every one bow the head to
his infallibility."
"He'll find that a hard matter in Scotland," said Sir John Hume,
gravely; "and I almost fear that Gowrie's humour will not suit all he
finds here--at least, what I hear on my return makes me think so. I
understand the king has forbidden three or four ministers to preach,
because they would not defend his actual supremacy. The days of old
John Knox seem to be quite forgotten."
"Not quite," answered Beatrice. "There are those who remember them,
though the king does not. God guard that Gowrie may have the prudence
to keep quiet, for the king will have his way. There are some men who
oppose him, and many who laugh at him; but by one means or another, he
makes them all bend to his will sooner or later; and there is
generally harm comes of it, if people do not yield readily."
"Everybody is tired of the feuds we have had," answered Hume; "and
therefore men give way to things they disapprove; but Gowrie's is a
spirit not easily bowed, and I doubt that he will ever be a favourite
here."
"Heaven grant that he never may," replied the lady; "for it is a place
of peril, depend upon it, Hume, and one out of which I shall be right
glad to be."
"That may be when you will, dear Beatrice," answered Hume. "You have
but to say the day, and free yourself from the bonds that tie you to a
court."
"In order to fetter myself with others," said Beatrice, gaily; "but it
is not so easy as you suppose, John. When my mother's letter came to
the queen, telling her majesty that she consented to our marriage, the
king vowed, with a great many hard oaths, that he would not have it
for a twelvemonth."
At this announcement, Sir John Hume became very wroth, and ventured to
break the precepts of the wise king in regard to speaking ill of
princes; but his angry exclamations were cut short by the return of
Alexander Ruthven, with the tidings that he had obtained leave of
absence very readily, and was about to set out. "What must be done,
had better be done quickly," he said; and then with a meaning look he
added, "Excuse me to her Majesty, Beatrice, for I shall not be able to
see her before I go."
It is probable that the young man did not in truth seek to deceive his
sister; but certain it is, that some two hours after, when the king
had gone out on horseback, Beatrice, as she looked forth from one of
the windows, saw Anne of Denmark walking, unattended, between the
castle wall and Heading Hill, a little mound just beyond the limits of
the castle. I have said unattended, but not unaccompanied, for by her
side was a form very like that of Alexander Ruthven; and Beatrice, as
she saw it, pressed her hands together tightly, murmuring, "Rash boy!"