CONCLUSION
About nine in the morning, Lord Foxham was leading his ward, once more
dressed as befitted her sex, and followed by Alicia Risingham, to the
church of Holywood, when Richard Crookback, his brow already heavy with
cares, crossed their path and paused.
“Is this the maid?” he asked; and when Lord Foxham had replied in the
affirmative, “Minion,” he added, “hold up your face until I see its
favour.”
He looked upon her sourly for a little.
“Ye are fair,” he said at last, “and, as they tell me, dowered. How if I
offered you a brave marriage, as became your face and parentage?”
“My lord duke,” replied Joanna, “may it please your grace, I had rather
wed with Sir Richard.”
“How so?” he asked, harshly. “Marry but the man I name to you, and he
shall be my lord, and you my lady, before night. For Sir Richard, let me
tell you plainly, he will die Sir Richard.”
“I ask no more of Heaven, my lord, than but to die Sir Richard’s wife,”
returned Joanna.
“Look ye at that, my lord,” said Gloucester, turning to Lord Foxham.
“Here be a pair for you. The lad, when for good services I gave him his
choice of my favour, chose but the grace of an old, drunken shipman. I
did warn him freely, but he was stout in his besottedness. ‘Here dieth
your favour,’ said I; and he, my lord, with a most assured impertinence,
‘Mine be the loss,’ quoth he. It shall be so, by the rood!”
“Said he so?” cried Alicia. “Then well said, lion-driver!”
“Who is this?” asked the duke.
“A prisoner of Sir Richard’s,” answered Lord Foxham; “Mistress Alicia
Risingham.”
“See that she be married to a sure man,” said the duke.
“I had thought of my kinsman, Hamley, an it like your grace,” returned
Lord Foxham. “He hath well served the cause.”
“It likes me well,” said Richard. “Let them be wedded speedily. Say,
fair maid, will you wed?”
“My lord duke,” said Alicia, “so as the man is straight--” And there, in
a perfect consternation, the voice died on her tongue.
“He is straight, my mistress,” replied Richard, calmly. “I am the only
crookback of my party; we are else passably well shapen. Ladies, and
you, my lord,” he added, with a sudden change to grave courtesy, “judge
me not too churlish if I leave you. A captain, in the time of war, hath
not the ordering of his hours.”
And with a very handsome salutation he passed on, followed by his
officers.
“Alack,” cried Alicia, “I am shent!”
“Ye know him not,” replied Lord Foxham. “It is but a trifle; he hath
already clean forgot your words.”
“He is, then, the very flower of knighthood,” said Alicia.
“Nay, he but mindeth other things,” returned Lord Foxham. “Tarry we no
more.”
In the chancel they found Dick waiting, attended by a few young men; and
there were he and Joan united. When they came forth again, happy and yet
serious, into the frosty air and sunlight, the long files of the army
were already winding forward up the road; already the Duke of
Gloucester’s banner was unfolded and began to move from before the abbey
in a clump of spears; and behind it, girt by steel-clad knights, the
bold, black-hearted, and ambitious hunchback moved on towards his brief
kingdom and his lasting infamy. But the wedding party turned upon the
other side, and sat down, with sober merriment, to breakfast. The father
cellarer attended on their wants, and sat with them at table. Hamley,
all jealousy forgotten, began to ply the nowise loth Alicia with
courtship. And there, amid the sounding of tuckets and the clash of
armoured soldiery and horses continually moving forth, Dick and Joan sat
side by side, tenderly held hands, and looked, with ever growing
affection, in each other’s eyes.
Thenceforth the dust and blood of that unruly epoch passed them by. They
dwelt apart from alarms in the green forest where their love began.
Two old men in the meanwhile enjoyed pensions in great prosperity and
peace, and with perhaps a superfluity of ale and wine, in Tunstall
hamlet. One had been all his life a shipman, and continued to the last
to lament his man Tom. The other, who had been a bit of everything,
turned in the end towards piety, and made a most religious death under
the name of Brother Honestus in the neighbouring abbey. So Lawless had
his will, and died a friar.
* * * * *
Transcriber’s Notes
Obvious typographical errors have been corrected, and hyphenation made
consistent within the text. Common contractions have been closed up
(e.g. ’tis rather than ’t is). Where this would lead to two apostrophes
together, the space has been retained (e.g. y’ ’ave). All other
spelling and punctuation has been left as in the original text.
Italics are marked with underscores _like this_.
All illustrations in the text are marked with the caption “_Copyright
by Charles Scribner’s Sons_.” For ease of reading, this has been
removed and placed here. Where full-page illustrations fall within a
paragraph, they have been moved to the end of the preceding paragraph.
This text contains three footnotes, marked in the text as [1], [2] and
[3]. The footnotes follow the paragraphs to which they refer.