Jointure, portion, gold, estate,
Houses, household-stuff, or land,
(The low conveniences of fate,)
Are Greek no lovers understand.
COWLEY.
"Verily the Lord scattereth!" was the exclamation of the Reverend Jonas
Fleetword, as he passed from one to another of the apartments of Cecil
Place, seeking for some one with whom to hold converse, yet finding
none. Sir Willmott Burrell was abroad, even at an hour so early; Lady
Frances Cromwell closeted with Constantia; Sir Robert Cecil particularly
engaged; even Barbara Iverk was not to be found--and the poor preacher
had but little chance of either a breakfast or a gossip, or, as he
termed it, "a commune." In the course of his wanderings, however, he at
length encountered Solomon Grundy, puffing and courtesying under the
weight of a huge pasty he was conveying, by a prodigious effort, to the
buttery.
"Ah, Solomon, my friend," said Fleetword, "of a truth it is a pleasant
thing to see thee."
"You mean that you behold something pleasant with me," retorted the
cook; "and of a verity, your reverence----"
"You must not call me reverence; it is one of the designations of the
beast;--my voice is raised against it--against the horned beast."
"This was a horned beast once," again replied Solomon, observing that
the preacher's eye was fixed upon the pasty; "nature may be changed by
cookery. It hath lost all the sinful qualities that you talk about, and
hath become most savoury and nourishing food: doth it resemble the
change that, you say, takes place in the spirit?"
"We must not so mingle profane and sacred things," murmured Fleetword,
placing his forefinger upon the tempting dish, with a longing and eager
look; for he had walked far and was fasting. "Is this one of the baked
meats thou art preparing for the coming festival?"
"What festival?" inquired the cook, surlily: "I know of no festival. Of
a surety, have I laboured in my calling, to furnish forth something
worthy of this house; yet, from what I hear, there will be few at this
wedding to profit by my skill. I little thought to see our dear young
lady so wedded."
"Solomon, feasting is foolishness; it savoureth of the mammon of
unrighteousness: yet was Nimrod a mighty hunter before the Lord, and
Isaac loved seethed kid. Couldst thou extract a morsel of meat from that
compound, for of a truth I am an hungered?"
"What! spoil my garnishing!" exclaimed Grundy, "look at the frosting of
that horn, and the device, the two doves--see'st thou not the doves?"
"Yea; but methinks thou mightest take away a portion, without injury to
the goodly fabric.--Behold!" and the Reverend Jonas lifted, with the
cook's long knife (which he snatched in unbecoming haste from the
girdle), the paste of the edge of the gigantic pie, and stole a weighty
slice of the venison from beneath.
"Ah, ah!" grinned Solomon, evidently pleased at the distinction bestowed
upon his compost. "Is it not passing good? But you taste not of the
gravy--the gravy!"
"It is unseemly to dispose one's heart towards such luxuries; though the
saints stand in need of food no less than the young ravens--only it
should be in moderation."
The preacher gulped down a ladleful of the pottage, and gasped for
another, unmindful of his own precept, while the gravy lingered on his
lips.
"Such as that would soon make you another man," said Solomon, glancing
at Fleetword's slender and spindle shanks; "there's nourishment in it."
"We all stand in need of regeneration, Solomon, and should desire
improvement, even as the hart panteth for the water-brooks; be it
improvement of body, or improvement of mind. There was a wise King of
Israel of thy name."
"What! Grundy, sir? the Grundys were of Lancashire," said the gratified
compounder of kitchen-stuff.
"Not Grundy; heard ye ever in Scripture of a name like that?" retorted
the preacher. "It was Solomon the wise."
"I remember him now; he had a many wives. But you can call to mind,
sir, when I only wanted to put away old Joan, and marry Phoebe Graceful,
you, sir, wouldn't let me. But them old Christians had a deal more
liberty."
"Peace, fool!" exclaimed Fleetword, somewhat in anger. "Solomon was a
Jew."
"A Jew!" repeated the cook--"I wonder at your holy reverence to think of
such wickedness; surely your reverence does not want me to be like a
Jew?"
"Solomon, thou art a fool--in bone, in flesh, in marrow, and in spirit.
Have I not told thee of the ungodliness of these thoughts?" replied the
preacher, as he finished his last morsel. "But, unless I answer thee
according to thine own foolishness, I cannot make thee understand. Get
me a flagon of double-dub."
"With a toast in it?" demanded Grundy, slily peering out at the corner
of his eye.
"Thou canst comprehend _that_," replied Fleetword: "truly--truly, the
creature comforts have absorbed thy whole stock of ideas. Thou art like
a sponge, Solomon--a mere fungus. Thou may'st put in the toast. And hark
ye! if ye see Barbara, tell her I would speak with her; not here--not
here--that would be unseemly--but in the oak parlour, or the library, I
care not which."
"Now do I wish for Robin Hays," muttered the shrewd yet ignorant cook;
"for he would expoundiate, which signifies, make clear--why a parson
must not meet a maid in the buttery.--But he is not a parson--Then he is
a man--But not only a man, he must be something else, methinks. But why
not Barbara go to the buttery? Just in time, here comes Robin; so I'll
e'en ask him.--Give you good day, my Kentish man; it was a pity you were
not here last night, as you so love a fray. The handsome youth, who had
been staying on a visit, was cooped up, because he and Sir Willmott
fought about my Lady Constance. And then the Major--he has been here two
or three times, and they call him Wellmore--although worthy Jabez
Tippet, the boatman, swears--no, not swears--declares, that no such
person ever crosses the ferry:--yet is he dumb as a tortoise as to who
does. Well, the Major and the young gentleman went off in a flash of
lightning, or something of the sort; for Sir Willmott and my master
could not find him. And I asked Barbara about it! but marry, she knows
nothing, and therefore says nothing----"
"Which proves her different from the other sex; for they sometimes know
next to nothing, yet say a great deal," retorted Robin, sarcastically.
"Humph!" replied Grundy; "you look chuffish this morning, Master Robin:
have you got any thing ready for the bridal?"
"Don't worry me," exclaimed Robin; "what care I for bridals, or bridles
either, unless I could fix one in your mouth? Where's Barbara?"
"The very thing I want to know; for that holy man, the preacher
Fleetword, having communed with the pasty, would fain commune with the
maid--not in the buttery though. And now, methinks, I had a question to
put to you--Why is it unseemly for a man to----" The cook held up his
hand in his usual oratorical style, so that it stood out like a
substantial fan before his face, and touching the second finger of his
left with the forefinger of his right, was proceeding with his inquiry,
when he perceived that Robin had vanished! "Robin! Robin Hays! oh! thou
heedless, and most faithless person! thou Jacky Lantern!" he exclaimed,
and then followed, as he thought, the passage that Robin had taken. It
happened, however, to be the opposite one, so that he received not the
required information.
Robin sought Barbara in every place where it was likely she might be
found, but without success; being unable to enter the more private
apartments of the dwelling, he applied to one of the damsels of Lady
Frances' suite.
"Oh, you seek Mistress Barbara, do you, young man?" and she cast her
eyes over Robin's mis-shapen figure with an expression of contempt that
could not be mistaken; then passed her finger along the braid of hair
that bounded the border of a plain cap, made of the richest lace; pulled
down her stomacher, and apparently waited for the Ranger's reply. Robin
reddened to the eyes, for he could but impatiently brook such personal
scrutiny; and his annoyance increased when he saw that his embarrassment
was noticed by his courtly companion.
"We do not call her mistress here," he said at length; "but I pray you
tell me where she is--I mean the Lady Constantia's attendant, little
Barbara Iverk."
"I know who you mean perfectly well," replied the pert woman in
authority; "we of the court are not thick-headed, as you of the country
may be, so I will explain fully to your----" she tittered rudely and
loudly; but Robin's pride was nettled, and he heeded it not; "to
your----but I wouldn't laugh, if I could help it. Barbara wished to know
how the attendants were dressed when my Lady Mary was married so very
lately to my Lord Fauconberg; and, as we of the court always carry our
wardrobes with us, and the simple girl being my size--she hath a
marvellously fine person for one country-bred--I dressed her as was
fitting in my robes: a white striped silk petticoat, and a white body
made of foreign taffeta, the sleeves looped up with white pearls, no cap
upon her head, but a satin hood just edged with Paris lace. 'Od's
Gemini! young man, if you had but seen her. Then all of a sudden her
lady wanted her to get some flowers, and she had only time to throw on
her cardinal and run for them."
"Then she is in the garden?"
"By the Fairy Ring, I take it; for there the best flowers grow."
Robin did not tarry to thank the court damsel for her information, but
bounded right away to the garden, cursing the rude laugh that again
insulted him.
As he drew near the Ring, he heard a faint shriek. His quick ear knew at
once that it came from the lips of Barbara; and bursting through the
trees, he was in an instant by her side.
It will take many words to describe what had passed in a single moment.
Barbara, dressed as Lady Frances' woman had described, was on her knees
before a slight, sallow youth, who held an unsheathed dagger in one
hand, and spoke in a language that was a mixture of some foreign tongue
and most imperfect English. Barbara, pale and trembling, evidently did
not understand a word the other said, yet knelt with hands and face
upturned, while the boy brandished the weapon, as if in the act of
striking. As his dark eye flashed upon his victim, it caught sight of
the Ranger, who rushed from the thicket to her side. With a piercing
cry, the boy sprang away into an almost impenetrable underwood, that
skirted the portion of the Fairy Ring most distant from the house.
Barbara no sooner saw Robin than she attempted to rise; but she was
unequal to any further exertion, and sank fainting on the grass.
When she recovered, she found herself in the same spot, with her head on
Robin's shoulder. Her spirits were relieved by a burst of tears; and,
withdrawing her head, she wept plentifully in her hands, heedless of the
drops that crept through her small fingers, and fell abundantly on the
white silk petticoat the waiting-maid so highly prized. Robin had always
thought her beautiful, but he had never avowed it to himself so
decidedly as now. Her long, luxuriant hair, no longer twisted and
flattened under her Puritan cap, flowed over the simple, but, to Robin's
eyes, superb dress in which she was arrayed; the drapery rather added
to, than lessened, the pure and holy look which is the soul and essence
of virgin loveliness; and he never felt his own worthlessness so much,
as while thus contemplating Barbara at the very moment when she was a
thousand times dearer to him than ever.
She was the first to speak, as passing her hand over her eyes, then
looking up between their long silken lashes, smiling as a young child at
the danger that was past, and retaining only the remembrance of it,
because it brought to her gentle and affectionate mind another proof of
Robin's attachment and protecting care, she stretched out her hand, all
gemmed as it was, and sobbed, even while smiling,--
"Dear, good Robin! he would have killed me. Are you quite sure he is
gone? Come near me, Robin; he will not come back while you are here. I
am sure he mistook me for some one else, for--" she spoke in a low tone,
"I saw him once before, Robin Hays," still lower, "at the Gull's Nest
Crag, only last night."
"I knew the little rascal was after no good; and to pretend dumbness
too!"
"Dumbness!" repeated Barbara. "Did he pretend to be dumb?--and do you
know him?"
"I do know that he, in some degree, stole his passage over in---- But
no matter; I'll clip his wings, and blunt his dagger, I warrant me; he
shall play no more such pranks. To frighten _you_, my Barbara!--what
could be the motive? serious injury he could not intend."
"Ah, Robin!" said Barbara, shuddering, "you did not see his eyes as I
did, or you would not say so; such eyes! Ah, I should have been
bitterly frightened had I not prayed this morning. Dear Robin, why do
you not pray?"
Robin looked at her and sighed--"Could you understand nothing of what he
said?" inquired he.
"I heard him repeat the name of Burrell, and that of my dear lady, two
or three times; but what he meant I cannot fathom. Oh, but he had a wild
and terrible look! Why should he seek to harm me?"
"Why, indeed!" echoed Robin; "it must be seen into, and that
immediately. I'll speak anon of it to Dalton."
"To Dalton!" in her turn echoed the girl--"Oh! that fearful man----"
"There is no one under the sun who has more love for you than he
has--than Hugh Dalton."
"I am sure he knew my father."
"He did, indeed: but question me no farther now, sweet Barbara; make
your mind quite easy, the outrage shall not be repeated. Perhaps the boy
is crazed. Let's think no more of it, my gentle girl. I must bid you
farewell."
"Farewell, Robin! Why--wherefore? Tell me, where are you going? When do
you return? How long do you stay?"
"Now, if I were a king, and one that woman could look upon and love, I
would give the half, the whole of my kingdom, to be sure she feels as
earnestly as she speaks," thought Robin. She perceived the coldness of
his look, and continued, though with a changed expression,--
"What ails you? Have I angered you? Will you be thus wayward with your
poor Barbara?"
"My Barbara!" he repeated bitterly, and he touched the Frenchified hood
that hung over her shoulders: "my Barbara! would these trappings become
any one that belonged to such a thing as me? Rare contrasts we should
be! Methinks such bravery does ill adorn a simple Puritan; one
professing such principles should don a plainer robe. Gems, too, upon
your sleeves!--is not a bright, but modest eye, a far more precious
jewel? If it can be outshone by any other ornament, it is worth
nothing."
He turned from her as he spoke, and tears again gathered in her eyes.
"Robin," she said in a broken voice, "it was Mistress Alice put them
on, to show me the proper tiring for a bower-maiden at a great
festival--such as my lady's ought to be.--But I will take them off--all
off, if you like them not."
"Nor sigh for them again?"
"Sigh for such as these!" she repeated, looking on her finery with
disdain. "No, Robin, young as I am, I have learned better things. The
linnet would look ill tricked out in parrot's feathers. Not but I think
the bravery becoming, though, perhaps, not to me;--surely no, if you
like it not! But whither are you going? only tell me that. Alas! that
dark and black-browed boy has so confounded me, that I know not what I
say. The last night's fray has sore distressed me too:--you know it
all."
"Hush, Barbara! 'Tis of that I would speak; it is that which takes me
from you--but only for a few days--it cannot be very long;--yet I must
find out where he is. I know the hands his wilfulness has thrown him
into, but I think they will save him from worse treachery. Nevertheless,
I must to London, and, if I cannot find him there, I must elsewhere seek
him out. If any ask for me, you will remain silent; and, dear girl, if
chance should throw you in Dalton's way, (it is likely he may be here in
a few days, perhaps before I return,) speak him kindly and gently; bear
with him, as you have borne with me."
"That is impossible," interrupted Barbara, "for there is no reason why I
should do so. He was never kind to me."
"But the time is coming when he will be kind. And now adieu, Barbara. I
desired much to remain; but I cannot. I imagined I might be useful to
Mistress Constance, but I could not; it rests not with me."
"I am very sorry you are going, Robin; for now, when I think of it, my
heart is heavy within my bosom; I know not why it should be so. You are
sure you can prevent that wild bad boy from frightening me again?"
"Quite sure. I'll lock him up within the Crag till my return."
"Thank you, Robin; but he will be kindly treated."
"To be sure he will."
"Thank you again;--but still the weight is here--_here_ on my heart. Do
you think it would be very wrong to wear this dress at my lady's
bridal?"
Robin smiled at the earnestness and simplicity that characterised this
child of nature.
"Oh, no; but if you love such, I can get you far finer garments."
"Can you indeed?" she exclaimed joyfully:--"But no," she added in a
sadder voice, "no bravery for me after this bridal. I dreamed a dream
last night. Do you believe in dreams, Robin? Listen: I thought we were
all standing at an altar in the ruined chapel."
"Who? All?" inquired the Ranger, eagerly.
"My lady and that man, and----" she paused.
"Who?" again inquired Robin.
"Why you: 'twas but a dream, you know," she added, blushing to the
temples. Then, as the colour faded from her calm face, even more quickly
than it came, she continued, "And we all looked so beautiful! and I
thought you so like the Cavalier Walter, and I felt so peaceful and
happy. But just as you touched my hand, there came a mist between us--a
dense and chilling mist, that made the marrow curdle in my bones, and my
joints stiff and iron-bound; and a voice, a low mournful voice, like the
wail of a dying bird, said, 'Come!'--and I attempted to answer, 'Not
yet;' but my tongue felt frozen to my teeth, and my teeth were as
icicles within my lips; and I was enshrouded in the mist. Then suddenly
a pang shot through my heart, as if it were the dart of death, and I
would have screamed, such was its agony; but still my tongue was frozen!
And I suffered, I cannot tell you what: when suddenly a soft breath
breathed upon my cheek, and it felt warm and soothing, and a
voice--sounding--I may as well tell it all, Robin--so like yours, said,
'Pray.' And as I prayed--not in words, but in spirit, the pain departed
from me, and the blood flowed again through my veins; and gazing
upwards, I found that I was not in the ruined chapel, but in the
presence of the blessed Saviour! He looked upon us--upon us both----"
"Stop, Barbara!" exclaimed Robin, whose imagination, at all times easily
worked upon, now became absolute torture, "for mercy, stop! It was but
the dream of a weak girl."
For the first time since she had grown to woman's estate, he pressed
her to his bosom, and then silently walked with her to the little gate
that led to the garden.
"Let Crisp stay with me. Bright-eye and he agree better than usual,"
said Barbara with a quiet smile.
"I will," replied Robin, adding, as he turned away, "Trust in the God
you worship, and put no faith in dreams."