"And what didst thou say?"
"I said him nay, 'twas too soon to wed, 'twould be wiser to speak a
year hence."
"And what answer did he make thee?"
"He said the king's sister, Princess Mary, when but ten married
William, Prince of Orange, and--"
"And what?" said Cedric, leaning forward his hand upon his sword, a
curse between his white teeth and a line of light from between
his half-closed lids like the flashing of a two-edged sword.
"What--'sdeath?" And Kate trembled forth--
"And fifteen was none too soon to wed."
"And did he say naught else appertaining thereto?"
"Nay, I know naught else he could say!" and the innocence of her
inquiring face proved his evil imagining a perjury. He caught his
breath in a flutter of sheer heart's-ease.
"Now who is this swain who hath taken advantage of my invitation and
come up from among the rustics yonder to make love to thee? I will
run him through the first time I meet his insolence. Who is he, Kate;
what's his name?" She vouchsafing no answer, aroused his suspicion.
"'Sdeath! what ails thy tongue? Haste thee, what is his name?" and he
glared at her, furiously, 'til she was well nigh cold with fright.
"Sooth, thou art strong with temper for the very meagre cause a maiden
will not bewray a poor man's name."
"Poor, indeed, when such as thou bestoweth upon him the priceless
gift of thy heart as a locker for his secrets; by God! give his name,
quick, ere I slay a dozen for one paltry fool that would rob me!"
She read aright the steely light 'neath his half-closed lids and was
distraught, for she dared not give him the name of one of his guests;
for the noble Russian Adrian Cantemir had pressed his suit and was
upheld by Lady Constance, who told him of Katherine's vast demesne,
knowing well he could not marry one without estates, as his were in
great depletion. And the noble Cantemir had well nigh won her heart by
his voice and music, and now that he was in danger of Lord Cedric's
anger, he became an object of commiseration, and not for her life
would she give his name to this raging man with murder in his heart.
"Nay, nay, my lord; give me grace. I have told thee truly all else,
and now I beg--"
"Dost thou say thou wilt not give his name? Then, by God, I will cut
my way to his black heart!" He drew his sword and strode forth to
slash the curtain that barred his way, and Katherine caught his
upstretched arm and fell upon her knees, bursting into tears. At sight
of tears and touch of fingers he dropped his sword and raised her
quickly, saying:
"Nay, nay, not tears. Dry them, Sweet, they wring my heart to greater
pain than all thy secrets, and for this one thou boldest I will take
thy shoulder-knot instead." She looked up surprised at the sudden
surcease of storm, and seeing his handsome face becalmed, she
wondered at the magic that had caused it, and her heart smote her for
withholding aught from one that loved her so. She hastily drew from
her shoulder the knot of violets that were still humid with freshness;
and as she drew the fastenings the lace fell from her shoulder,
disclosing her too-low cut bodice, and Cedric's quick eye saw why the
screen of lace was used, and with trembling fingers caught up the lace
and drew from his steenkirk a rare jewel and pinned it safe as deftly
as her maid. He touched her hand with his warm red lips, saying in
a voice resonant as music: "God bless thee, Kate, for thy sweet
modesty!" He thought if the modish beauties in yonder rooms could
boast of such perfect charm, 'twould not be hid by a fall of lace and
a shoulder knot of violets. And he pressed the nosegay to his heart
and left them there, folded within her father's letter. A calmness
settled upon him, such as had not come to him heretofore, and
trembling with happiness he led Katherine forth in the brantle; she
feeling quite like an heroine for being able to hold her secret from
this passionate man.
For all the convent had environed Mistress Pen wick with sacred
influences, and she had absorbed its most potent authority, religion,
yet even that was not efficacious to the annihilating that 'twas
born within; and one can but excuse the caprice and wantonness of a
coquette, when 'tis an inheritance. She adhered pertinaciously to the
requirements of a lady of title, and loved opulence and luxury and
admiration. She foresaw--young as she was and reared as she had been
with all simpleness--an opportunity, being a noblewoman and the ward
of a wealthy titled gentleman, to become a favourite at Court. This
idea, however, was not altogether original; for Lady Constance
had given her a graphic description of her presentation, and the
requirements due to all ladies of note. And while Katherine fully
intended to carry out her father's wishes for an early and noble
marriage; yet she felt there was no haste; she was sure it would be
his desire for her to enjoy one of those seasons at Court she had
heard so much converse of. 'Tis not much wonder, having been so short
a time in the great world and having won the hearts of two noblemen,
she should wish for fresh fields to conquer. But now was not the time
for a trip to London, for spring was upon them and there was much to
look after in Crandlemar. His Lordship had sadly neglected his duties
in keeping up the village and looking after the poor. The church
must be built up. It had not occurred to her that there were other
religions beside the Catholic; and when Lord Cedric's chaplain made
known to her the difficulties of arranging Catholic orders in a
Protestant Church, she could not understand. Janet explained to her
what she would be compelled to surmount to bring her religion to be
the accepted one in Crandlemar. Again her mind was turned to Count
Adrian, and she thought 'twould be well to wed with one of her
own faith, and he was as warm a Catholic as herself. Cedric was a
Protestant and a very poor one, indeed it seemed he had no religion.
And yet he had told her that he petitioned not to God for aught;
but 'twas his diurnal duty to thank Him for His benevolence and
chastening; ever deeming chastisement the surety of his alien thought
or action, and he speedily mended his ways or made an effort to; but
what great sin he had committed that her love should not be given him
was more than he could tell, and he should keep on trying to find out
what his faults were, that he might receive that he wished for most.
He wrangled not of religion, but ever kept the divine spark in his own
heart alive, if not fanned to flame. Indeed so indifferent was his
Lordship to the great questions of the times, he thought not of the
ancient monastery in the depths of the vast forest upon his estate,
where still resided recluses. 'Twas seldom he thought of these simple
monks. They lived in seeming quiet, enjoying the freehold of their
castle. But there was a storm brewing, and in its midst his Lordship
was to be severely reminded of their presence.
CHAPTER VIII
THE ANCIENT MONASTERY
Lord Cedric's guests all departed after the Saxon dance, save their
Graces of Ellswold, Lady Constance, Lady Bettie Payne and Count
Cantemir. And with their exit spring seemed to burst forth in sward,
bourgeon and bud, and the clinging tendrils upon the castle walls grew
heavy and pink with their greedy absorption of carbon dioxide from the
warm atmosphere. It seemed the unfolding of nature brought ten times
more pain and uneasiness and mad love to Lord Cedric's heart. He had
not yet learned who had been talking to Katherine of love. Janet
had mentioned Adrian Cantemir; he had laughed at her. Constance
had pointed to Lord Droylsden, a man of distinction and strong
personality, whose estates joined his own. This appeared more
plausible than the suit of Cantemir, and his Lordship watched
Katherine when she was with these two and soon found, so he thought,
it was for the latter she cared; indeed 'twas hard for him to follow
the trend of her vacillating mind.
'Twas a glorious, warm spring morning. Mistress Penwick had ridden
forth, attended by a groom, to the village. She spent the entire
morning in visiting the poor and sick and did not fail to note the
dilapidated state of the cottages. She rode home flushed and eager
with plans. She made known to Lord Cedric her desires to build up
these poor cottages. Without question he doubled the amount of money
she asked for, and paid her a large sum for immediate use among the
poor. Katherine's heart was touched by his goodness to her, and spoke
with more warmth than 'twas her wont and opined 'twould be a glorious
afternoon for their ride in the forest! He had kept his eyes
steadily from her; for 'twas his mood to play the disinterested and
unconcerned; but at this innovation on her part he raised his eyes and
spoke indifferently:
"Aye, if this weather continues, we will have roses in a fortnight."
"Speaking of roses reminds me; as I started forth this morning I saw
a gardener upon the upper terrace trimming about some bushes of
wonderful grace and beauty, and as I stepped among them I saw an
ancient sundial; 'tis the first I've yet seen, and I made bold to ask
him to plant some rare rose near it, that its leaves and blossoms
might enfold its cold marble whiteness and warm it to greater beauty."
"And didst not thou suggest some choice?"
"Nay; just so 'twas healthy and prolific of bloom."
"Then as thou hast named a rose, I will name its kind!"
He smiled significantly, and the hot blood flushed his cheek. She came
a step nearer and bent toward the table before him, her riding dress
wrapping her perfect mould.
"One thing more I would ask thee; 'tis that I might have a bolder
steed, the one thou gavest me is not near spiritful enough for one who
wishes to ride well and gayly. I would have one that shakes his head
and rattles his bit and stamps about uneasily." This was more than his
Lordship could stand, and he broke forth in a mirthful laugh,--
"Thou shalt have the most buoyant palfrey can be found; he shall have
a wicked black eye, and--an honest heart for his mistress." Cedric
arose and bent gracefully to the fingers of Katherine as she held
them out to him, then turned quickly to the fire and crushed a
half-famished ember beneath his heel as he heard her cross the
threshold. A moment after he strode out upon the upper terrace to the
gardener, who stood with bared head as his Lordship gave command to
plant by the dial a bridal rose.
The afternoon was glorious with the scent of a million shooting
sprouts, and delicate with the perfume of violets. But the sunshine
of the day was not to stay, for the party from the castle were scarce
three miles within the confines of the forest when the sun became
overcast. But they rode on, however, taking delight in the fine air,
and caring naught of cloud and threatening weather.
They soon came to intricate windings of the forest path, where two
might not ride side by side, and as the Duke of Ellswold rode in
behind his wife, he suddenly reeled and would have fallen had it not
been for his groom. They all turned quickly save Mistress Penwick and
Adrian, who had made the sharp turn and were galloping forward. Cedric
bade a lackey ride with all speed to the castle for a coach; and as
the anxious group waited, they wondered somewhat that Katherine and
Cantemir did not return. And Cedric's heart, while well-nigh taken up
by his uncle's state, had still room for jealousy, and he grew hot
with anger that for once he kept hid under the semblance of anxiety.
His Grace was tenderly lifted and taken to the conveyance that waited
upon the broader road some distance away. The little caravan moved
slowly, and before it reached the castle the wind began to blow
furiously, bringing heavy showers.
The physician from Crandlemar had been summoned, and after a hurried
examination gave them encouragement, saying that the duke had probably
been riding too fast and his condition was not dangerous.
A courier had been despatched for his Grace's physicians and all
things done for his comfort; and Cedric for the time relieved from the
anxiety of actual and impending danger concerning his kinsman, now
felt the full force of his disappointment in Mistress Penwick's
absence with Cantemir. He determined to ride forth in quest; and with
a groom laden with all sorts of cloaks for her protection from the
storm, that now raged furiously, started, feeling naught but the pain
at his heart.
The Catholics and Protestants being at variance throughout the
kingdom, and there were passing constantly under cover of forests and
unfrequented highways groups of riotous men of both parties; for the
life of him Cedric could not tell with which party he would rather his
Katherine would come in contact--she unattended save by a modish fop.
After reaching the depths of the forest, 'twas no easy matter to find
the exact paths they had traversed in the afternoon. The groom carried
a lantern, but 'twas Lord Cedric's order not to light it. There were
shooting lodges and forester's cabins, other abodes there were none
save the old monastery, and to which of these places to go was left
altogether to the toss of a penny. Beside, they were not sure of
finding a shooting lodge, should they start for it; the night was so
black and the paths so numerous and winding. Very often Cedric would
stop and listen for the tramp of horses' feet; but there was naught
save the occasional cracking of twigs as some wild thing jumped from
the roadside frightened, or the stir of the high wind in the giant
trees. On they rode, and Cedric's heart was first sorry for his
kinsman's ills, then--he would rant because Katherine had taken no
notice of his importunities, and he swore under his breath in good,
round Scotch oaths for his allowing her to go thus long without
espousal; and again he looked at the matter dispassionately. She was a
very young maid, without the protection of womankind of her own rank
or an aged guardian. Then began to find fault, and on a sudden saw she
loved admiration, and this sin became unpardonable and he became
so wrought upon, he swore he would lock her in the tower until she
consented to their espousal. Then he thought of Janet's words as he
left her but a short time before: "I would vouch for her innocence
with my life! Be not harsh with her, my lord!" and he ground his teeth
in rage for his _espionage_ of her. Then he thought of the king and
what if she came under his eye,--"Ah, 'sdeath! 'twould make me mad!"
and he laid spur to his horse and galloped on with hot curses in his
throat.
How long or how far they had ridden 'twas impossible to tell, until
suddenly they saw a light and at once Lord Cedric knew they were at
the monastery. He halted instantly and dismounted. Throwing the reins
to the groom, he crept cautiously forward alone. To his astonishment
he beheld a great number of horses about the enclosure, and he became
still more cautious. "'Tis a Catholic _rendezvous_, by God!" said he.
He followed close to the wall, and was about to reach the window when
the door was thrown wide open and a group of three stood upon the
threshold. Two of them, Cedric saw, as the light from within fell upon
their faces, were noted leaders of the Catholic party, the other was a
monk, and 'twas he that was speaking. His voice was low and intense:
"If his Majesty has but one glimpse, he will pitch the Castlemaine
overboard. This one is a religionist of no common order and will do
much for the cause; and when she has done this thing, I shall do all I
can to withdraw her from further communication with Charles. She shall
not become one of his household, she is too good for that."
"'Twas rare luck that brought her to thine abode this afternoon, for
our case was well-nigh hopeless, and soon it would have been too late,
for once Sir John gets to this country--sh! Didst hear something stir
hereabout?"
"Nay, 'twas naught but the wind; but when thou dost speak of Penwick,
thou hadst better whisper."
"'Twas a pity we came not earlier according to agreement, and we
should have feasted our eyes upon the beauty."
"If thou hadst been one-half hour sooner, thou wouldst have seen her
with the gay youth that will give her little peace 'til she doth say
the word. I tell thee both, the Virgin Mary doth plead our cause, and
no doubt 'twas through her agency the rain came upon the maid and
drove her here. We offered special prayer to Holy Mary this morning.
And the youth with her is also of the only religion. Mistress Penwick
was greatly frightened of my Lord Cedric; for she would go forth in
the heart of the storm, fearing a longer stay would bring uneasiness
to the castle; so I gave her protection, a guide and a promise to
receive her in a few days for the confessional and some religious
direction; and I feel sure she will visit me within the week."
"'Tis an easy way to reach the king's heart; he doth so love a pretty
face and fine parts; and we may be able to use the youth as well--eh?"
They said a good-night and passed on to their steeds, mounting and
riding away.
The monk returned to those within, and Cedric hurried away, anxious
only to see Katherine once more,--to behold her once again with his
own eyes and never, never again would he allow her to leave him. He
would not be turned aside again from his purpose, she must come to his
terms at once. Then he fretted and fumed, fearing she had fallen under
the stormy blast and had taken cold, and perhaps would have a fever.
Then he grew hot and angry with her for riding so fast and beyond
ear-shot of the company. And jealousy and all evil passions took
possession of him.
Meanwhile Mistress Penwick had arrived at the castle, and was grieved
when she heard of his Grace's condition, and sorry she had ridden
ahead and was so late getting home.
Janet had hurried her to her chamber and disrobed her of wet garments,
and bathed her in hot and cold baths, and was rubbing her with
perfumed olive oil when Lord Cedric arrived.
He went to his uncle's bedside, and finding him resting, quietly
hastened to his own apartments and sent to inquire of Mistress
Penwick.
'Twas Janet's pleasure to answer her lord's inquiry in person, and
after swathing her lady in fine flannels, she hastened to Lord
Cedric's presence.
She found him standing in satin breeches, silk hose and buckled
high-heeled shoes, and shirt of sheer white lawn and rare lace. He
raised his drooping eyelids lazily, and looked at Janet as he lifted
from the dressing-table before him rings--rare jewelled--and adjusted
them on his white fingers. At his side was a valet, placing fresh
sachets filled with civet within false pockets of the satin lining of
his lord's waistcoat. The cold, proud gleam from Cedric's dark orbs
daunted not Janet. She courtesied with grave respect. There was that
in her eyes, as she raised them, that called for the dismissal of the
lackeys. As they passed beyond to the ante-chamber, she approached and
spoke low in tones vibrant with suppressed emotion.
"My lord, as I am with thee in the chiefest thought of thine heart, I
make bold to inform thee of a virulent action that is about to be made
against thee; one flagrant of state intrigue and court duplicity."
"Damme, what now?" and his Lordship leaned heavily upon the table;
the conversation at the monastery recurring to his mind with force as
Janet proceeded.
"Not being able to contain my anxiety for Mistress Penwick, I wrapt
myself and went forth in the storm to watch and listen for aught of
her return. I passed some little distance within the confines of the
forest, and was soon put upon my guard by the approaching tramp of
horses' feet, and then, low-keyed voices, and in very truth I thought
my lady was come; instead, three horsemen came within a few feet of my
hiding and one said,--'We are even now hard by the Castle courtyard;
'tis possible the lackeys are waiting for the beauty who is perchance
now started from the monastery. Didst ever see such beauty?' They
halted and dismounted some distance from the open road. Then one
said,--''Twill send his Majesty to madness when he sees before him
such perfect mould, suing for his most gracious clemency toward our
cause.' ''Tis a wonder my lord of Crandlemar does not take such beauty
to wife,' said another. 'He may bid her farewell when once her fame
reaches the Court; and 'twill be there in less than two days from this
hour. Who will remain with the despatches while we find that rascal
Christopher?' ''Twill best serve for one to go, and two guard the
horses and bags. Thou hadst best go, Twinkham, thou art as subtle as
the wind. Prod the villain Christopher to haste and enjoin upon him
secrecy in the name of His Most Catholic Majesty, the Pope,--and do
not thou be hindered by some scullion wench.' These things I heard,
well-seasoned with imprecation against the king. I hastened from the
_rendezvous_ to my chamber and thought upon it, and--and there is
naught can be done, unless thou wed Mistress Penwick straightway."
His Lordship fell into furious rage, and vowed he would sever
Christopher's head from his rotting body with a cleaver, and honour
him not with a thought of Tyburn Hill. He would burn yonder monastery
and all within to ashes for the wind to carry away; and he would lock
Katherine in the tower with his own hands; and he started toward the
door, half-dressed as he was, and flung it wide open.
Her Grace of Ellswold stood upon the threshold with a warning finger
raised.
"Thou hast a clamourous tongue, Cedric; the doctor hath enjoined
silence, as holding for the moment the greatest good for his Grace."
"Now God forgive me! I was so wrought upon by foul communication I am
well nigh distraught.--How is his Grace?"
"He is resting quietly; but I thought but now, as I heard thy
voice--indistinctly, 'tis true,--his pulse did flutter extraly."
"Dear aunt, forgive; thou shalt not be thus annoyed again." He turned
and strode up and down the room with bent head.
Janet watched him narrowly, wondering the while that any female, of
whatsoever age, could withstand such fine mould, masculine grace and
handsome features; such strong heart and hot blood. What maid beside
her Lambkin would not be overjoyed to see him so mad with love of her?
Who could resist kneeling before him and pleading, and watch his anger
take flight; and feel his strong arms raise her and fold the maiden
bosom to his heart, where 'twould throb and flutter as he held it
close pressed--ah! 'twas not his anger that would kill, nay! nay!
'twas his tender passion.
"Janet, these are troublous times come upon us. They have come within
these walls. We have traitors about us. That knave Christopher shall
die by the hand of the lowest scullion in the kitchen; for 'twould
dishonour a better to mix with blood of swine. And thou wilt take thy
mistress to the tower and there be bolted in, and 'twill be given out
that her ladyship is ill and must needs have quiet--"
"If my lord values her health, 'twould be best to put her in a less
windy chamber; the room is large and ill-heated for damp, spring
days."
"Canst keep her safe where she is?"
"Aye, leave it to me, my lord."
"And thou shalt allow of no communication with those outside, save
her Grace, and Angel thou canst rely upon--stay--thou mayest allow
Constance to keep my lady company."
"Nay, my lord, I would refute the idea of safety in my Lady
Constance."
"'Sdeath, what meanest thou; art thou also turned from serving me?"
"My lord, dost remember the night thou didst have dancers from London?
Lady Constance sat late with Mistress Penwick, and at last complained
of thirst and they two stole below stair and I followed, and as if by
accident Lady Constance brought Mistress Katherine to the curtained
archway, and she saw thee swaying in thy cups, and after a while my
lady led mistress to her room while she hastened away to a room apart
and donned the garb of one of the dancing maids and came to thee as a
gipsy, and she told thee false things concerning Mistress Penwick--"
"Is what thou sayest true, or is't thou art going mad?"
"'Tis true, my lord, as Mistress Penwick will tell thee if thou carest
to ask."
"And Constance would do such an act?--" he spoke half aloud and
incredulously,--"Nay, I cannot and do not believe it! Thou must have
dreamt it, Janet,--and yet,--I did have like visions!--Thou art right;
no one shall see thy mistress, no one, mind, but Angel and her Grace.
'Tis possible the king may send for me within a few days; and if so, I
must go and leave thee to fight the battle alone. Art able, Janet?"
"Trust me, my lord."
"I can trust thee, good Janet. Look after her health; keep the windows
open for fine air, but let her not go from her chamber. How thinkest
thou she will take such imprisonment?"
"She will be angry, but so proud she will not petition for freedom;
she may even brag 'tis to her liking to be so rid of thee."
"'Sdeath, Janet, thy tongue can cut! Dost believe she cares a jot for
my anger?"
"Nay, not a jot, for 'tis the outcome of love, and 'tis my noble lady
Innocence that is well aware that thy anger will fall to spray when
she hath a notion to turn the tide."
"Nay, not again shall she win from me aught but cold looks 'til she
hath a mind to espouse me;--and yet my mind was made up to marry,
whether she consented or not; for the time has come when the one who
waits will wait still, and the one who rushes on, will take the prize,
whether by foul or fair means;--but nothing can be done to-night. In
the meantime I will steel my heart to harsh deeds, and, by God! I will
bear out my course. Janet, go now to thy mistress, and should I be
despatched for before I see thee again, there will be no one here
to defend her as thou canst do. Thou must not allow the servants to
attend upon her; thou must do it all thyself--a sweet duty! so, 'tis
left thee to defend with thy quick wit."
'Twas near noon the next day that Mistress Penwick arose and would
prepare her for a ride to the village, when Janet told her of the
imprisonment imposed upon her for safety. She at once became angry and
accused her nurse of being a traitor and tool for Lord Cedric.
"Nay, Lambkin, in truth, there are dark deeds abroad. Those monastery
celibates, who are well equipped to bandy with their equals, are mere
braying bumpkins when they have to do with embroidered waistcoats
and amorous hearts. They have surreptitiously corrupted one of Lord
Cedric's lackeys and the fellow is condemned to die."
"Condemned to die! and who hath done the condemning, pray?"
"His master, to be sure!"
"Ah! if he should put forth the accomplishment of such a deed, 'twould
be the act of a barbarian. What are the charges against him?"
"Just what it is I know not; but my lord deems the charge most grave
and--he may be even now dead."
"Janet, thou dost so frighten me. Does the matter concern my lord's
person,--is his life in danger?"
"Not his life but his love; 'tis for thy sake he does it."
"For my sake!--then it shall not be done; I will see to it. Let me go
to Lord Cedric straightway."
"His orders would not permit it."
"For shame, Janet; to save a man's life? Let me go; I am not afraid of
his anger."
"'Tis impossible; he would send me away if I disobeyed him."
"Then thou must bring him here, Janet."
"'Twill do no good to see him; he will not come. He is thoroughly out
of all patience with thy perverseness,--thou wilt never find another
such a noble lord and one 'twill love thee with such love;--and for a
face and figure--well, thou art surely blind to masculine beauty;--and
should his Grace go hence, my lord will be his Grace of Ellswold, and
second to none in the realm; he will become as much to the king as the
Duke of Buckingham, and will far outshine Monmouth and Shaftesbury."
"Nay, Janet, he will ne'er become great when he doth so confuse
justice with viciousness;--but, nurse, I would have thee haste. Tell
my lord that I beg his presence, if for a moment only; he surely would
not refuse so trifling a request."
"But it is not trifling, as he well knows thou art upon the keen edge
of want before thou wilt so much as smile upon him." At the moment
there struck upon Mistress Penwick's ears the tramp of horses' feet,
and straightway she ran to the window and leant out and saw Cedric
about to ride forth.
"My lord, my lord!" she cried, and dropped a rose to attract him. His
horse sprung aside and trod upon it; but Cedric looked up and saw
the anxious face embrazured by ivy-clad sill; and with involuntary
courtesy he speedily uncovered and waited thus her pleasure.
"May I have a word with thee, my lord?"
"Indeed, Mistress, it doth rack me with pleasure to accord thee so
slight a service," and he dismounted quickly and strode into the great
hall and bounded up the oaken stairway. It seemed to Mistress Penwick,
as she heard his rattling spurs, that 'twas a sound of strength, and
she felt a happy, exultant tremour, knowing her cause already won.
But for once there was not wisdom in her conceit. She made a sweeping
courtesy as he entered. He bent low before her, waiting her first
words.
"My lord, wilt thou permit me to inquire somewhat of thy mercy?"
"Thou dost make me insolvent of such a quality when thy keen
penetration doth not discover, without inquiry, its existence." She
was not daunted by his severe answer, but flushed slightly at his
imperturbance.
"Then, if thou dost acknowledge thyself so pampered, I beg thou wilt
conjoin to justice its semblance and forgive thy poor servant the
penalty of death."
"Ah! ah! and 'tis Christopher's cause thou art pleading. Happy
Christopher!" he sighed deeply. "If the King would thus condemn me,
Mistress Penwick wouldst thou thus care for me?"
"The query is of that so premature 'twould be impossible to frame a
reply,--hence I beg to continue converse upon an affair thoroughly
elaborated and arranged."
"'Twould grieve me to say at once 'nay'; for that would end at once
for me these supreme moments in thy presence; however, I will repeat
the adverb of negation with a rising inflection that thou mayst
continue with amplification."
"Dost thou mean to discontinue converse with me?"
"Nay, I beg not."
"Then thou meanest thou wilt not forgive thy poor servant, and wilt
impose such extreme penalty; and further importunities would be
useless?"
"I forgive the dead all things."
"My lord, he is not already dead?" and she fell from him aghast.
"Nay, but soon will be."
Mistress Penwick saw no softening in Cedric's manner, and she became
alarmed and threw some tenderness in her voice and spoke softly, that
she might lead or manage her lord by gentleness and tact.
"My lord, do not look so cold and hard." She drew nearer and her voice
became more pleading. "'Tis a little thing for thee to grant me this
one desire. I beg with all my heart for thy servant's life."
"Nay, I have given order for his despatch before sunset."
"Nay, nay, my lord, I beg." She came close to him and laid one hand
caressingly upon the silver fastenings of his coat and he turned white
and trembled and caught her hand within his own and bent down and
pressed his lips to her fingers. She saw her advantage and followed it
close.
"Wilt grant me this one thing, my lord, and I will hold myself--ready
to--hear thy suit renewed--if thou so will it?" His voice vibrant and
low with passion he could hardly restrain, broke forth,--
"Kate, Kate, I could not call so base a life worthy of thy
consideration, and I could not grant thee that 'twould sully thy sweet
tongue to barter for."
"Thou art most unrelenting, my lord!" The maid was angry for having
offered her lord the privilege of renewing his suit; which he didn't
seem inclined to do; and finding her pleadings were of no avail, and
being angry and annoyed, she broke into tears, knowing of a certainty
she would now have her way, even though her dignity was lowered.
Cedric could not stand and see her thus; he turned from her
quickly and was about to leave her, when she called to him almost
impatiently,--
"My lord, wilt grant his life until the morrow?" He hesitated, then
turned and bowing low, murmured,
"Until the morrow, Kate," and left the chamber.
CHAPTER IX
SIR JULIAN POMPHREY
"Now time is something to have gained! Janet, thou must go to yonder
monastery and bring a priest to shrive Christopher."
"And how didst thou know Christopher was shriveable?"
"'Tis unseemly of thee to make jest of divine ordinances."
"Nay, I would not jest but know where 'twas thou learnt of his
religion?"
"All of the Catholic faith know one another by intuition; 'tis
God-given."
"Then thou didst also know him to be a rascal?"
"Neither do I know it now. Wilt thou not find some way to bring a
priest hither? Pray, Janet, do; for if I let it go past, 'twill bring
me miserable thoughts and wicked dreams. Janet, thou didst once love
me and hadst a fond way of anticipating my desires; but thou hast on
a sudden forgotten thine whilom usages. Beshrew thee for falling away
from thine old friends and taking up with new ones. Lord Cedric's
nurse watches him from morn until eve and deigns not to cajole him or
win his desires from their natural bent."
"'Tis wisely said; for his desires are inclined in the right
direction. 'Twas but last night when he was well-nigh distraught with
thy absence with the Russian Jew that doth ogle thee, that Angel
brought his riding-cloak and threw it over his shoulders as he tore up
and down his chamber; and she said, lowly,--'Go, my lord, 'twill ease
thy mind to ride,' and he flew to horse. She is ever helping him to
thee."
"And now I would have thee to help me to my lord's good graces and my
desires; but thou art evil bent."
"Nay, my precious Lambkin, if I could I would help thee this night to
the nuptial altar; but as to helping thee to thy desires, 'twould be
helping thy peace of mind and him to utter ruin; and such calamity
would render thy young life incomplete; for without this noble lord
thy perfectness will be unfinished."
"Cease carving epitaphs, Janet, and help me assist this poor
unfortunate. How long will my lord be gone?"
"He has only gone to the village to meet the workmen who were to
renovate the nurseries and ride home with Lady Constance, who rode
away early this morning when thou were dreaming of Russia."
"Then I will write him my petition, and thou shalt give it to Angel
to give my lord, immediately upon his return." She sat down with
parchment and quill and wrote rapidly; and as Janet noticed not, she
wrote two letters instead of one. The first she folded evenly and put
beneath a book, the other she gave to Janet, who took it and left the
chamber to seek Angel. Mistress Penwick, thus left alone, wondered how
she should convey her other letter to Count Adrian. She approached the
window, and lo! upon the upper terrace paced her Grace of Ellswold and
Cantemir. 'Twas not the first hour that day the latter had so paraded
the sward, ever and anon casting glances toward Mistress Penwick's
windows. Again he glanced up and saw her wave a white paper and
immediately leave the window. He guessed at once 'twas something more
than indisposition that held her to her room. Again she looked; they
had turned from the window. She flung forth the paper and it floated
down as Janet came into the room.
'Twas late that evening Katherine sat in _peignoir_ and unbound hair,
ready for retiring, when there came a soft rap and a pleading voice
asking for admission. Now Janet was not one whit afraid of double
dealing when she was present, and being proud of Mistress Penwick and
not wishing it to appear that she was a prisoner, she opened the door
and in came Lady Constance smiling and shy, a hollow-hearted creature
of the world. Now it so happened that Lady Constance had kept herself
from Katherine for some little time, wishing not to be disturbed by
the maid's beauty; as it usually stirred her to frenzy and she wanted
perfect quiet for calm reasoning. It took some time to plan her
campaign that was already full started, and she now came forth from
her chamber refreshed, the course of her slothful blood hastened; her
eyes gleamed with impatience for action; her whole being changed,
rejuvenated, filled with a new life. She came also with a full
knowledge of all that had taken place in the _interim_ of her absence
from Katherine. She came well prepared for a bout, and blushed not at
the subterfuges and mean, paltry artifices, aye, a full battery of
chicaneries that awaited her use, as she crossed the maid's chamber
threshold. "'All is fair in love and war,'" she quoted--"'Tis an
egregious platitude adopted alike by king and fool!"
"I could not sleep without first seeing thee and knowing thy
condition. It must be more than hard for thee to keep thy chamber?"
said Constance.
"Nay, thou art wrong; the convent doth inure one to quiet and
solitude."
"Dost think thy ailments will allow thee to go abroad on the morrow?"
"I know not, I am at Janet's mercy and I cannot leave my seclusion
without her permission. I feel quite well, but Janet says I am ill."
"Oh! that I had a nurse to so fondle me; indeed, she has kept all
looks of illness from thee; thy face is as clear as if thou hadst been
fed on wild honey all thy days;--and such hair! Dost leave it thus for
the night?"
"The tangles would never submit, should I so leave it."
"'Tis my delight to fuss with hair and thine is so beauteous--" she
arose and went to Katherine and smoothed the amber threads--"See, when
I turn it thus, 'tis like rare bronze, and when I place it to the
light, 'tis a glorious amber. May I plait it for thee,--I should love
so much to do it?"
"If 'twill give thee pleasure thou mayest assuredly plait it," replied
Katherine. Janet now watched for a whispered word or some sign of
intercourse; but her vigilance was of no avail, for Lady Constance
deftly placed a tiny paper in Mistress Penwick's hair and plaited
tightly over it.
"'Tis such a pleasure to fuss with hair--and such fine threads, too;
indeed, I have half a mind to become a _peruquier_,--there, 'tis
finished!"
"How is his Grace, Lady Constance?"
"He bids fair to pass a comfortable night,--'tis too bad his
physicians cannot arrive before the day after the morrow. They have
also sent for Sir Julian Pomphrey--a favourite of the duke and an
intimate and college fellow of Lord Cedric. Sir Julian is a most
wonderful man. When but nine years of age, he entered Eton school,
and having pursued his studies there with great success for one of
such light years, he was sent to travel upon the continent, where he
studied in Geneva for some time; thence he went to Florence, remaining
there many months,--afterward visiting Rome and Geneva and other
continental cities of note. He returned to England a scholar, a
soldier, a gallant, a conqueror of female hearts,--in brief, he holds
all the requirements of a charming cavalier of King Charles' Court.
He has modish habits that so completely masque his strong will and
determination that before one is aware they are caught and wound in
the meshes of his duplicity. He is a literate, poet and musician."
"Thou dost indeed stir me to great interest, Lady Constance; he must
be a wonderful man. It seems we seldom have so many great qualities in
one human being. He must be quite along in years?"
"Nay, not at all! His very youthfulness is what makes him such a
wonder. If I remember rightly, he is but two years senior of Cedric,
and I will venture there is not ten pounds' difference in their
weight. They are very much the same mould, and their voices blend as
one, but Cedric has the handsomer face. Sir Julian, however, has a
countenance of no common order; 'tis like a rock of strength already
well lined and marked by the passions that have swayed him to battle
and death or--perchance a lover's intrigue. He is in great repute for
his smile that is transcendent in its beauty, but one can never tell
what note it rings, whether true or false; its condiment may be of
malice, hate, reserve, flippancy, deception. And one looks on and
fears to take part in his mirth, for the reason one knows not what
lies beneath in Sir Julian's heart."
"Indeed, and he is to arrive soon?--Sir Julian Pomphrey--I like the
name!"
"It is one of the best names in England. I shall be very glad to see
him, and hope he will come soon. When he gets word his Grace is so
ill, he will probably come as fast as the ship and post-horses can
travel. He is at present a special emissary to France. He did write
Cedric some time since that he was about to return to England, that
his work there was nearly finished."
"He will doubtless be playing fine French airs, and have much gossip
of the composers and will perchance bring music with him that will
stir us to greater study of execution."
"It may be, and it mayhap so move thee; but I am foreign from the
rudiments of counterpoint and technique and such lollipops of
harmony."
"Then it must be wearisome to hear me prate of the divine art, and
much more to hear my poor drummings on the harpsichord, I am sorry--"
"Nay, be not so. I am more content when thou art at practice than at
all other time, save when I am with thee thus, alone." And there was a
covert meaning in her flattery. "Now, my dear Katherine, if thou art
thus beset on the morrow, I will engage to come at thy retiring hour
and dress thy hair; 'twill give me such pleasure."
As Lady Constance retired from the chamber, Mistress Penwick stretched
her lithe body and yawned and expressed a desire for the bed. Soon
she was left alone, and she stole from her couch and knelt at the
hearthstone and read the missive eagerly and flushed not a little
at Count Cantemir's warm words of love that were a prelude to the
weightier matters appertaining. She crept back noiselessly and lay
pondering of many things. It seemed to her as if all earth breathed of
love; that she was the nucleus around which all flowers and perfume
and everything beautiful revolved. And now she was about to open a
mystic shrine, into which she would step and see and know and feel
with youth's ecstasy a strange development of essential existence. And
after wondering and speculating upon the affairs of love, she entered
into prayerful thought of Lord Cedric's servant, and soon fell into
sound slumber.
CHAPTER X
WHAT HAPPENED IN THE BUTLERY
"'Behold thou art fair, my love; behold thou art fair; thou hast
dove's eyes within thy locks; thy hair is as a flock of goats, that
appear from Mount Gilead.
"'Thy teeth are like a flock of sheep that are even shorn, which come
up from the washing; whereof every one bear twins, and none is barren
among them.
"'Thy lips are like a thread of scarlet, and thy speech is comely; thy
temples are like a piece of pomegranate within thy locks.
"'Thy neck is like the tower of David builded for an armory, whereon
there hang a thousand buckles--'"
"Nay, nay, Janet, thou must not idolize me thus, 'tis--"
"Beshrew thy conceit. 'Tis Solomon I repeat. Thou were not thought of
when 'twas writ."
Katherine raised upon her elbow and looked surprised at Janet, who
knelt by the bed.
"Thy tongue is sharp, Janet, for a day yet in its swaddling hours."
"Aye, 'twill be whetted two-edged e'er the day waxes old. 'To
everything there is a season, and a time to every purpose under the
heaven; a time to be born, and a time to die; a time to plant, and a
time to pluck up that which is planted; a time to kill, and a time to
heal; a time to break down, and a time to build up; a time to weep,
and a time to laugh; a time to mourn, and a time to dance; a time to
get, and a time to lose; a time to keep, and a time to cast away; a
time to keep silence, and a time to speak; a time to love and a time
to hate; a time for evil communication to be thrown from young maid's
window, a time to look for answer to a pleading letter sent to a
justly angered lord; a time when his Lordship deigns not to give
answer; a time when a young lord to a tender parchment pregnant
with importunities says: 'Damme, she would set one thief to shrive
another;' a time when his Lordship slams with a bang the outside cover
to a book _blasé_ of many turned leaves."
"Dear, dear sweet Janet; where is Lord Cedric? And has he said nothing
of Christopher?" The nurse averred that his Lordship had ridden forth
early, without giving his destination, and had left no word concerning
the servant.
"Perhaps my lord's better nature hath prevailed, and he will keep the
poor fellow in durance yet for a time," said Katherine, hopefully.
"Nay, his decision is irrevocable. He is not dealing in hearts now,
Lambkin."
There was no doubt in Mistress Penwick's mind but that his Lordship
would kill, or cause to be killed, the condemned lackey, and Janet
knowing, 'twas his Lordship's temper and not his heart that vowed the
death, dissembled and impressed upon her mistress that the deed was as
good as done.
Katherine's wit was sharpened by the exigency, and she managed to use
the window again as a post, only fearing--from Janet's anomaly of
Solomon's words--that some one waited below to capture the flying
missive. This issue was accomplished as the nurse was listening to the
Duke of Ellswold's message; when, late in the morning, the duke after
swallowing a stimulant declared he must have the more substantial
refreshment of Mistress Penwick's beauteous countenance.
The duke was too ill to remain up long; and though Katherine was less
than an hour from her chamber, the day was much shortened by the
diversion. As night approached she became more and more anxious about
Christopher. Indeed, it seemed to her as if the moments were hours
after candle-light. And she moved restlessly about her chamber and
listened and sighed for the return of his Lordship. Surely the silence
was more pronounced than usual; it became ominous to her, and she
spoke out quickly in a voice that was peevish:
"The castle is very quiet to-night. His Grace is not suffering again,
I hope? Wilt see, Janet? I'm in a perfect fever of impatience!"
"Nay, he is very comfortable. Her Grace is with him. Lady Constance,
Lady Bettie and the Russian are at cards."
"Will my lord arrive soon, dost think, Janet?"
"I know not. Why art thou so solicitous on a sudden of his outgoings
and incomings?"
"I would make another effort to save Christopher, if I could but
converse with my lord."
"And what wouldst thou give him in exchange for the fool's life?"
"Everything, Janet,--all that I have to give should be his."
"Then that includes thy heart, Lambkin?"
"Nay, dear nurse, my heart is already given."
"Of all the powers that be! And what knave hath attempted to steal
that that thou wert born without?"
"'Tis unjust of thee to speak thus. I have a mind not to tell thee!"
"Thou wilt tell me straightway, for thou wilt turn all colours when I
say Adrian Cantemir," and quickly Mistress Penwick turned her back, "I
am aggrieved at thy folly. What hath he said to thee? Tell me every
word, Lambkin."
"He hath said more than I could tell thee, Janet, in a whole hour."
"It is impossible! And what were all of these hour sayings,--love
pratings?"
"If I told thee, thou wouldst then know as much as both of us, and
there are but two in a marriage contract; so I will have to begin
barring secrets from thee."
"And did he tell thee what marriage meant to two people knowing not
their own minds?"
"He said 'twas a most perfect life. All was sunshine and flowers and
great happiness. First of all, he will take me to Russia, as 'tis his
pleasure to hasten home with me. Then we will visit the French and
English courts, and we will see all the beauties of this life. I shall
become known among the musicians and meet--"
"And said he naught of home-life, and the extent of his riches?"
"Nay, we are to live at Court always, free and happy, consorting ever
with kings and queens--"
"Did his High-mightiness ever consider that court dignitaries consort
not with a rogue who hath entrapt an angel for spouse?"
"I will not listen to thy rough tongue, Janet," and she straightway
closed her ears with her tapering fingers and walked up and down as a
spoilt child would do.
The prandium hour was past, and the evening far spent when Mistress
Penwick desired to retire.
"'Tis most likely his Lordship will not return to-night, Janet?"
"He has gone on a journey of some import, as Angel hath just said; so
I could not say when to look for his return."
Janet had been asleep some time when she was aroused by some subtle
thing that brought her upright and from thence to the floor and from
the floor to the closet that connected her apartment with that of her
mistress. The door was locked; this was an innovation that startled
Janet to a keen alertness. She rattled the knob and knocked upon the
panelling. Stooping, she saw the key was turned in the door. She
hurried from the place to her own room and into the hall, and from the
hall to a small corridor, and from thence to the grand corridor, where
opened the door of her mistress' ante-chamber. In she flew, and tried
the inner door. 'Twas fast locked, and the key gone. It seemed she
sped on wings as she descended the oaken stairway in her trailing
gown. She reached Lord Cedric's bed-chamber with trepidation and not a
little daunted; for should his Lordship be within 'twas possible his
anger would know no bounds; and while she loved his good hot temper,
she feared it when so justly aroused. Within the ante-chamber was
a steward and two or three lackeys, all asleep; she passed them
silently, and without hesitation opened the door. Lord Cedric sat
before the table in riding boots and spurs, divested of coat and
waistcoat; writing, and looked up surprised and amazed at one
who dared to so enter his presence; but he read that in Janet's
countenance that brooked not at delay.
"My lord, Mistress Penwick hath deserted her chamber, and I know not
where to find her, nor can think of where she may be gone." Lord
Cedric stood before her still and white as marble, his face glistened
with the cold sweat of fear.
"By God, Janet, thy tale doth take from me all strength!" Even as he
spoke he sunk down upon his chair. Janet brought from a stool hard by
a posset-pot and pressed it to his lips. He drank gurglingly, as if
his throat was paralyzed.
"Janet," he breathed forth, "call the lackeys." He had somewhat
recovered, and stood upright while his valet buckled on his sword. He
took from the table a polished dagger and placed it in his belt; he
called for candles and bade the lackeys lead on. Janet was well-nigh
distraught at this awful cloud of anger that was about to break forth
in the thunder of his tongue and stroke of sword. The steward of the
household was aroused, and keys were brought to unfasten Mistress
Penwick's door, that they might ascertain if she had fled afar.
Her hoods and hats were all in place upon the shelves of the
dressing-closet, but there was gone a white camelot cloak. The footman
near the outer entrance said none had passed since Lord Cedric's
arrival.
"But, my God! I have just arrived; who passed before?"
"Not one soul since nightfall, save the village doctor, your
Lordship."
Lord Cedric had enjoined perfect silence, fearing lest some noise
might disturb his Grace of Ellswold.
The lackeys bearing lighted tapers--behind them the young lord of the
castle, with the attendant Janet--moved solemnly like a procession.
They passed thus from room to corridor, from hall to gallery, and
through passages; examining secret exits and closets. They traversed
the long banquet-hall and were upon the threshold of a carved and
lofty doorway, when Janet espied upon the parquetry a cobweb bit of
lace protruding from beneath the tapestry of a chair. Lord Cedric's
keen eyes marked her movement as she essayed to reach it without his
notice. He turned quickly and fierce upon her, knocking his sword with
a loud noise upon the chair's carving.
"Give me thy treasure, Janet!" She gave it to him with something like
a sob; for 'twas her mistress' handkerchief, and she feared mightily
her lord's anger.
"Your Lordship! If it so turned out that she be holding some
_rendezvous_ with thy Russian guest--"
"Ah, 'sdeath!" he interrupted.
"I beg thou wilt forgive much, she being of such slender age and
knowing not the great wrong of clandestine--"
"Ah! ah! she holdeth court here in the chief butlery."
The door before them had been thrown open by the lackeys. They stood
upon either side for his Lordship to pass through. Beyond, framed in
the dark embrasure of the archway, stood Mistress Penwick in gleaming
white. Her hands behind her rested upon a table from which long leaves
depended to the floor, upon either side, her camelot cloak was thrown
carelessly upon the further end, its long fulness draping to the
floor, and in the centre of the polished top of the table rested a
tall, silver candlestick with lighted taper. Upon the hearthstone
there shot up a cheerful blaze, for the night was damp and chilly, and
the flickering light sent Mistress Penwick's hair first amber, then
bronze. Her face was still and white, and her eyes flashed wide and
boldly. Her heart beat high and her breath came fast and hard.
For a moment only his Lordship's glance fell upon her, then it swept
the room from end to end, and from ceiling to parquetry. Then occurred
a strange thing to them all; for 'twas ever Cedric's way to swear
and curse, using holy names and blasphemous phrases; and it startled
Katherine more than all, as he spoke low and calmly, holding out his
jewelled hand to her:
"Come, Mistress Penwick, I will escort thee to thy chamber; 'tis a
childish trick of thine to seek bread and butter at such unseemly
hours."
"But, my lord, I am not yet begun."
"Ah!--with one pair of shapely hands unused to spreading butter, it
doth take long in preparation." The snowy whiteness of his Lordship's
waist reflected upon his face, where now came and went its wonted
colour, as doubt and certainty fought for supremacy. He stepped nearer
and glanced behind her upon the table.
"Thou hast not even brought forth bread. I will aid thee," and he went
to 'the cupboards that lined the room, and opened and looked within
each large door, until he was satisfied of his search, and those about
stood watching and trembling, fearing lest some one should be found in
hiding.
"I find naught here of bread or butter, Mistress Penwick; we will have
to seek elsewhere!"
"And thou wilt not have far to seek, my lord; my whey sits freshly
made upon the cellaret in yonder closet adjoining; if thou wilt be so
kind as to bring it hither, Janet will provide me with bread," and
Katherine looked triumphant.
"I would first learn whom I follow. Who hath so cavalierly concocted
it for thee at this late hour? Where is the person, my lady?"
"One who is in the habit of following thy orders; but at mine he hath
made it; 'twas Tompkins." Her voice rung with so much of truth, his
Lordship was satisfied and looked at her with a lighter heart; then,
as she pointed toward the door--a mute command for him to bring the
whey--he frowned and drew back and spoke,--
"Hiary will bring it thee, for 'tis said a hand put forth by an angry
heart doth curdle that it toucheth and--I am of no mind to be either
kind or courteous." At these words, the colour that had come into
Katherine's face a moment before, left it.
As Hiary turned to do his lord's bidding, a door opened and Tompkins
entered with a lighted candle and large basket. Seeing the unexpected,
coughed to hide his confusion; indeed he knew not which way to turn,
when his Lordship walked to his side and raised the cover of the
basket and looked within.
"It appears that 'twas a feast thou wert preparing;--everything
suitable for a full meal. Here is fowl and cheese and mutton tarsal
and bread and ale,--Egad! we shall not want now, shall we, Mistress
Penwick? Set the table, Tompkins!"
"Ah!" came in an asperate tone from the now trembling and frightened
maid. His Lordship heard it and saw her turn white and tremble. Slowly
he walked to the hearthstone, eyeing her askance, then he swept his
brow where the cold perspiration lay in beads;--then turned to her
again with a world of love for her in his eyes and a great crushing
self-pity; and the menials looked away from the abject misery they
beheld in their lord's face; Tompkins fumbled nervously with his
burden, daring not to look up; Janet leant forward, intent, pained,
sorrowing, scanning the two countenances she loved best on earth. His
Lordship stretched forth his arms and with a great sob that broke upon
that one word "Kate," he took a step forward and essayed again to
speak, but the words would not come. Then with a great effort he
seemed to fling all tenderness from him and spoke most harshly,--
"Where hast thou hid thy lover, Mistress Penwick, tell me where he
is!" She drew herself up quickly to her full height and smiled, for
this was one thing and she had thought another, and the reality was
better than her fancy. And she said, as she drew a long, relieved
breath,--
"He is safe, my lord!"
"Nay, nay, by God! he is not nor ever will be again. He hath so dealt
with me and my honour, even though I stand within mine own threshold
'twould be heinous to allow him to leave it with life in his accursed
body. I tell thee now, there is nothing of hell or heaven that can
take thee from me. Dost hear--dost hear, maid?" He again wiped his
brow and looked about him. "It does somewhat appear as if my brain
were turning!--Janet--bring thy maid here to me! Janet made a step
forward, but was checked by Katherine's warning look.
"Mistress Penwick, remove thyself from the table; Tompkins, set it,
set it, set it quickly I say!" Tompkins put the basket upon the table
and turned to a linen closet and brought therefrom a cloth and made
as if to spread it upon a small table near him. His Lordship saw his
move, and broke forth in angry tones,--"The table of honour, there,
there Tompkins!" As he shook his fingers toward it, his hand fell back
upon the hilt of his sword.
"Nay, I forbid him to do it," said Katherine.
"By all the foul fiends! raise the leaves or I smite thee down," said
Lord Cedric to the frightened Tompkins. And he drew and leaned forward
his body well nigh to the floor. His eyes were wild and bloodshot. As
Tompkins raised the leaves Mistress Penwick threw herself between his
Lordship and the table. With one bound Cedric swayed aside and like
one frenzied, gazed beneath the table, and there looked out to him the
white face of Christopher.
His Lordship broke forth into such a wild laugh, even the affrighted
and condemned servant crept from his hiding and looked on amazed.
Finally, when his laughing had well-nigh ceased, his Lordship drew
from his belt the dagger and threw it across the room at Hiary,
saying,--"There; stick him as thou wouldst a wild boar--no probing,
mind; but death!"
"Nay, nay, my lord! my lord!" broke from Mistress Pen wick, and Janet
ran to her crying,--"My lord, not so harsh a deed before my lady's
eyes!"
"Ah! ah! and she hath carved my heart to pieces! Commit thy office,
Hiary!" The lithe lackey sprang upon Christopher and drove the knife,
it appeared, to the hilt, and with a gurgling cry the lad fell.
Mistress Penwick looked on wild-eyed with terror. His Lordship came
near and leant close to her ear and said,--
"Thou hast turned thy charms to ill account, thou stirrest me to evil
deeds. Didst thy love help thee to this _rendezvous_, and was he
satisfied to leave thee when he heard my sword flap upon the chair
without to fight thy battles alone, or did he sate his desire on thy
innocent face and fled aforetime to prepare for a greater sating? Now
by God, none shall wrest thee from me again. Arouse the chaplain!
Come, Mistress, thou shalt have a husband who loves thee within the
hour, and the morrow's sun will look in on a sweet young wife with a
light heart."
He laid hold on her without violence, she drew from him even more
frightened than heretofore.
"Come, we will wed straightway and before dawn thou wilt have
forgotten my haste and stout urging," and he started forth drawing her
with him by force. She struggled wildly and cried,--
"Nay, nay; I'll not marry with one who would strike down and kill the
unfortunate; nay, nay!" and she screamed again and again.
From the doorway came a voice of thunder, its power seemed to crush
out all other presence. 'Twas but one word, but it rung and vibrated
and stirred each breast with its vehemence.
"Cedric!"
His Lordship let go the maid and turned and sprang to the open arms of
him who called. The awful tension of his nerves relaxed and he uttered
in rapid succession,--
"Julian, Julian, Julian!" and fell to sobbing, his form trembling with
his emotion.
"Hath gore of _canaille_ sapped thy noble blood and impregnated in
thy veins vile clots to turn thee purple with choler?" and he pushed
Cedric from him. "What doeth this _couchant_ dog here?" He turned and
stirred the prostrate form of Christopher. "'Tis ill to so fall upon
the seething caldron of thy passion, the noxious fumes of which
penetrate yonder to our kinsman's couch of suffering--and at the same
time thou dost pound to pomace the heart of yonder Junoesque figure."
"Julian, thy tongue hath an awful strength, it doth goad me to
something like reason. I was indeed rough, but I was looking after
mine own. The maiden there is plighted to me for espousal and I was
taking her to the chaplain."
"It may be thou dost take her rightfully; but if 'twere me I would
bring her to it by soft and gentle words, not by handling. It doth
take away the sweetness."
"Indeed, Julian, I have used all things worth using to gain her. I
have played all parts and have asked and sued and prayed, aye, begged.
I have honoured and loved and pampered her every whim; I have coerced
and threatened,--all to no avail; indeed, I have gone mad for very
effort to please."
"Hast thou tried cold indifference and haughtiness? It oft haps that a
maid is won by a lofty and arrogant mien." Sir Julian Pomphrey glanced
askance at Mistress Penwick, who lay with her face buried upon Janet's
ample bosom. "Methinks 'twould be a good beginning, if thou wouldst
renew thy suit by sending the maid to her chamber and let her espouse
Morpheus and 'suage her grief upon a bosom thou needst not be jealous
of." Janet arose and led forth Katherine. Lord Cedric stepped after
them and held out his hands and sobbed,--
"Kate, Kate, forgive, forgive!" She deigned not a backward look.
As they passed from sight, he fell upon his knees and shook with his
great emotion and groaned aloud in his misery.
Sir Julian Pomphrey dressed as a gentleman of France in riding
apparel; his overhanging top-boots displaying a leg of strength
and fine proportions; the curls of his periwig sweeping his broad
shoulders; his hands, half-hid by rare lace, gleaming white and
be-jewelled; a mustachio so flattened with pomade it lay like a black
line over his parted lips, through which shone strong white teeth,
was veritably a man of noble character and distinction. He was the
counterpart of Lord Cedric in all save visage and temperament.
Gracefully he strode across the room with the confidence of one
who had already mastered the situation; planned for his Lordship a
complete victory, and there was naught left to do but carry out the
methodical arrangements thus quickly formulated. He placed his hand
lightly upon Cedric's shoulder. His touch was like magic, for his
Lordship started.
"Cedric, I have rid hard and would seek my bed. Come with me and calm
thyself. Yonder maid thou shalt have, so sure as thou dost do my
bidding; and she will sigh and draw quick breath and preen herself
to gain from thee one amorous glance; and will do penance for her
untowardness and offer hecatombs as high as zenith will allow."
"Dost think so, Julian? It gives me hope to hear thee thus speak."
"Indeed, I may say--'tis done--even though 'twere precipitately
avowed;--but oft, 'tis the premature babe that doth become the most
precocious child, and 'tis well to foster that 'tis fecund."
"But, Julian, she hath another lover,--and now that I think on't,
didst thou meet a knave upon horse, perhaps, attended by a swaggering
groom as thou cam'st through the village or thereabouts?"
"Thou hast said it. A half-league beyond Crandlemar there past me at
furious speed a devil-upon-horse. I hallowed once and again to no
avail, so I prodded the fellow with my sword to assist his respiratory
organs, as he flew by. 'Twas a kindly act, for he immediately found
his breath and--swore."
"And didst notice his livery?"
"Nay, for the trees were too ostentatious and flaunted their new,
green finery impudently and hid Neptune's satellite or--'twas cloudy,
I could not see. Come, come, I must and thou, too, have sleep if
the God thereof doth not wantonly spend too much time with thy
mistress;--but thou shalt soon offset him and I may have, for one
night at least, his undivided attention."
"Ah, heaven, that thy words may prove true. 'Tis hard to bide the
time. Come, let us begone from this foul nest that reeks of blood."
CHAPTER XI
JACQUES DEMPSY
To Katherine's untutored vision of social and religious matters,
all appeared like a placid sea; but beneath, political dissension
complicated by religious wrangling produced a vigorous under-current
into which she was to be drawn.
The exegencies of poverty and exile through which King Charles had
passed made him resolve not to "go again upon his travels," and for
this cause he tolerated the Episcopal religion, of which system the
cavaliers were votaries; and they supported the royal prerogative.
Being an alien to honour, truth and virtue, he was not stirred to
a wholesome interest of importunities, save when a voluptuously
beautiful female solicited his attention. Now 'twas Lady Constance'
plan to forward Count Cantemir's suit with Mistress Penwick and hasten
a marriage that could only be clandestine, owing to Lord Cedric's
vigilance. If this scheme should prove abortive, it was her intention
to bring the maid to the king's notice. Here were two lines of battle,
each surrounded by skirmishing detachments. She was subtle in the
extreme, and arranged warily these side issues, which had more of
death and utter destruction in them than an open onset.
Rigidly she had kept from Cantemir the knowledge of Mistress Penwick's
insolvency, likewise the death of her father; knowing the condition of
the count's fortunes, she feared he would retreat; his love for the
maid might be of such a nature 'twas possible he would not take
part in the ugly skirmish against her. So Constance had set
about systematically to bring Mistress Penwick and Adrian to an
understanding of each other.
He believed Katherine to be a wealthy heiress of Sir John Penwick, who
was being held as hostage at some point in America. At her marriage
her estates would be placed in her own hands. All these things Lady
Constance could vouch for, as she had read the letter herself that Sir
John had written Lord Cedric. Mistress Penwick was at a marriageable
age, and her father being ill and hopelessly bound by ties of war
never expected to see her again and had made provision for her future
happiness. Knowing these things, and being in love beside with so
beautiful and youthful creature, Cantemir was well-nigh mad to win
her, without any urging from Constance.
On the other hand, Mistress Penwick never forgot his slender grace and
pale, patrician features, as she beheld him first upon the stairway
the evening of her arrival. He had ingratiated himself into all her
thoughts of music and court life and religious duties. Being like her
a Catholic, he sat by the hour and spoke of their ill usage by the
nobles of England, and insinuated that the cavaliers (Lord Cedric
being one, of course) were combined to rout out the Catholics and
confiscate all their properties, both public and private.
At one time Lady Constance said to Katherine that her father, Sir
John, was an Episcopalian and she had made answer,--"'Twould be absurd
to suppose him anything else than a Catholic." Upon this, Constance
spoke to Adrian, and he, casually as it were, asked Mistress Penwick
if she were not afraid her demesne would be seized by the Protestants.
Thus she had come gradually to know of the chasm between the two great
religious orders, and had even written her father of the dangers in
which she believed she was placed. These letters of course were kept
by Janet. The seals remained unbroken and the missives were carefully
laid aside until Mistress Penwick should know the truth. And neither
she nor Janet receiving news from him, stirred her to confide her
fears to Cantemir, who questioned her of the letter which her father
wrote, bidding her to depart for England. She became startled and
uneasy, when she remembered that Janet had refused to show her the
letter and having promised herself to Cantemir in marriage, she spoke
of the matter to him. But her love of and confidence in Janet was
deeper than she thought, and at his first words against her, she fell
from him. He said 'twas possible Janet, being so great a Protestant,
she would undoubtedly take his Lordship's part against her, should any
serious trouble arise. He even went so far as to suggest that perhaps
there was a-foot a ruse to get from her those possessions her father
had written of. Katherine rebelled at these insinuations and thought
that "dear, good, sweet Janet would never take a pin from her Lambkin
to save Church or State. And Lord Cedric, too, even though he would
condemn his servant, he would never take her property, he loved her
too well for that; beside, he was a gentleman of honour, even though
his evil temper did goad him to fearful deeds." She tried to make
herself believe that she truly loved Cantemir, and 'twas her religious
duty to marry him; but when he spoke either against Cedric or Janet,
she was quite sure she hated him.
In pursuance of Lady Constance' diplomacy, she had assisted Cantemir
in arranging the _rendezvous_ for himself first, and finally for
Christopher, who was to escape with provision for a long journey, as
'twas not certain what Lord Cedric would do if he found him at the
monastery. And Katherine had this night pledged to wed the count in
three days' time. Even as they were arranging their plans Cantemir's
valet had rushed to him saying that his Lordship's page had come to
his apartments, and finding him gone his master had vowed death to any
who would intrigue at such hours with his promised wife. Cantemir, a
polished, hollow-hearted, selfish sycophant and coward, made more so
perhaps by Constance' influence over him, at Katherine's command, as
it were, had taken flight.
Constance listened eagerly the next morning, as she sat 'neath her
maid's hands, to every detail of the evening's adventure; but her
disappointment at such mischance was greatly allayed by the unexpected
presence of Sir Julian Pomphrey. He was second only to Lord Cedric in
her affections. Her greatest desire was to gain his Lordship's love;
if she could not have that, then she would try for the king's favour
whereby she would be able to live at court and be ever near Sir
Julian, whose mistress she had been and might be again.
She had begun well to bombard for the accomplishment of her first
desire.
As soon as possible she rode forth, passing beyond Crandlemar village,
where a short way from its confines she came upon a certain innocent
looking tree that had some six feet above its broad trunk a loosened
knot, which could be removed at will. She plucked it forth and looked
within. It was empty and barren of even a bird's nest. Constance had
no compassion for its loneliness when she laid therein a small, white
piece of paper and filled the orifice with the rough knot. She rode
away content and doubting not that Count Cantemir would soon have her
letter.
He had halted some five leagues beyond Crandlemar at an inn remote
from the highway, the landlord of which was a monk, dissembling his
name to Jacques Dempsy of the Cow and Horn, and his religion to
anything that was the king's pleasure.
The two sat in the deserted drinking-room; their heads bent together
and speaking in subdued tones. Cantemir's hand rested upon his leg,
that had been freshly washed and bound by the landlord.
Sir Julian's sword-prick had goaded Cantemir to an anger that was
'suaged neither by good old wine nor the council of the monk.
He fretted for an opportunity to thrust his assailant in the
back--anywhere. "Surely," said he, "the day is not far when I shall
kill that devil Pomphrey," His groom had seen Sir Julian full in the
face at a small opening in the trees.
"Sh!" said Dempsy, "there is other work for thee now. 'Tis best for
thee to bide here awhile, at least until a courier shall return from
the tree, where thou sayest thy cousin will place the billet. And if
everything is well, then there will be found for thee a guide to lead
thee through the forest to the monastery, where thou shalt first sign
thyself for the strict carrying out of our plans; then thou shalt be
wed, if there is no remissness, and carried safely to London, where
thou shalt remain until thy lady has audience, and gains that we seek
of the King. Ah! there are times when we sigh and almost weep for
those good old _pro_-Reformation days, when such ecclesiastical bodies
as ours took their grievances to--Rome. Bah! to have to bribe a
profligate king for--the signing of his name. What does he know about
bequests and inheritances--" The count started and Dempsy all alert
broke in with,--"and freeholds. Thou dost know, count, the monastery
is a freehold in the very centre of Lord Cedric's lands; but--I am
telling secrets; forget what I said." The count fell back listlessly,
a gap made in his thoughts by the sudden disappearance of a clue.
"Charles treats us as mendicants; but if he should chance to see the
coffers of our order, he would know we had received something else
beside a crust for shriving." The count looked up again so quickly,
Dempsy caught himself and wondered what he had been saying, and what
his last words were; for he had been thinking aloud, as it were.
"Aye, aye, I was saying if Charles could see the riches of our
coffers, he would know the sale of Indulgences had not been a little.
Thou seest, count, we have here at the monastery great treasure, our
coffers are filled with priceless articles of virtue that will, no
doubt, be carried to Rome and be laid in the reliquary of Santa Maria
Maggiore or St. Andrew Corsini or St. Peters. We have some priceless
bones--" Adrian shuddered and relaxed his attention--"they have brought
us great, good fortune; we have bits of clothing--thou dost well know
most of the saints were plainly attired--that some day will be worth
much, perhaps not in my day nor thine, but when age comes, when we
grow a little further from the saints. Ah! I see, thou hast not much
interest in my converse--treasure is nothing to thy love-sick heart,
eh! count?"
"Nay, not dead men's bones, indeed thou hast rare wine for such
cumbrous relics that can be turned to naught! And didst thou shrive
the saint for the use of his bones a hundred years hence?"
"Thou art growing facetious, count. Dost think of no virtue but thy
maid's? And art thou sure she will not fall back from her promise to
thee?"
Cantemir, filled with his own ideas, gave perfunctory acquiescence and
continued in his own line of thought. And what with a busy brain that
was not over-strong, and a ride of some length and dampness, with a
sore leg, he became feverish and the monk took him to bed in great
haste, where he remained for the best part of a week; the seriousness
of his disease not a little augmented by the desire for immediate
action.
CHAPTER XII
CASTLE AND MONASTERY
The next morning after Christopher's sudden disaster, the castle
seemed to have awakened from a long apathy. The servants clattered
under breath of their wounded fellow. The arrival of his Grace of
Ellswold's physicians held gossip in the castle in abeyance, as all
were anxious of their decision; but the presence of Sir Julian seemed
to fill the sails of the becalmed household with a stiff breeze, which
at a favourable moment would raise anchor and fly forth on a joyous
sea.
The physicians gave out that there was no immediate danger, but his
illness was serious and there must neither be noise nor excitement. It
was out of the question to move his Grace either to his own estates or
elsewhere for baths or sea air.
Lord Cedric and Sir Julian sat with him an hour after the doctor's
examination, Sir Julian, conversing of the freshest gossip at court,
without the usual condiment of inflammables which would be apt to
rouse his Grace not a little.
There being now no traitor--unless perchance Constance might be termed
one--in the house, and no danger of Mistress Pen wick being left
without the close surveillance of Janet, she was no longer kept
prisoner. And, while she was greatly wrought upon by the sad havoc of
the previous night, her youth and gay spirits and Janet's exhortations
upon the age, giving license to all sorts of uprisings and display of
temper and unwarranted vengeance, somewhat quieted her, and she arose
as sprightly as ever, all the more determined to free herself from
Lord Cedric. If she had stopped for self-analysis, she would have
found that she was bent on gaining her independence at no matter
what cost; regardless of consequences. That her desire was more of
adventure than ambition. And she also would have found that she cared
naught for Cantemir and a very great deal for Lord Cedric. She had
never given thought to a separation from her beloved Janet; while even
classing her as antagonistic to her desires, she never ceased to love
her; for this woman had made herself a mother in every respect, aye,
even more watchful and exacting. While acting in a servant's capacity,
doing the most menial of service, she developed in the maid those
seemingly trifling motives of mind and soul which in the end make up
the character of a life; and very few mothers ever have the tact to
so understand these very minute details that so develop a child's
passion. Janet had ever developed in her charge an inclination for all
beauty; not failing, however, to show wherein weakness crept; where
grace of countenance oft screened defect of character. Indeed this
maid was one of Janet's own creation, save in flesh and blood, and no
one knew any better than she, herself, the vanity to rout the faults
and frailties inherited. She strove the harder to overthrow such
imperfections by perfecting and cultivating the maid's receptive mood.
She was ever fencing with her in words, working out in detail exchange
of thought wherein Katherine might, if 'twere in her, make a clever
reply. At times Mistress Penwick would pick up such threads of Janet's
teaching as would bring her to a semblance of conscience of present
environment, and she would see in a vague way the right and wrong of
things. For the moment she would read all in Cantemir's handsome
face that it masqued and would turn from it only to become lost in
contemplation of what life would be if she were free from Cedric's
guardianship, never thinking of the greater bondage of espousing a
knave. Ever and anon her eyes sought the young lord of the castle,
forgetting she was his ward--and there would come to her such a
feeling of overwhelming conviction she was for the moment submerged
in ecstasy, and with the hot blush still upon her face she would flee
from him as if he were an evil tempter. He brought her near to that
great unknown, upon whose threshold she stood trembling and expectant,
eager to know what was before her. And so, not understanding her own
mind, and being of such tender years, drifted along with the tide that
was carrying her to destruction. Her mind was set upon her own way,
and sheer perversity deigned not to let her see the hands stretched
toward her.
The afternoon sun fell aslant the black oak parquetry where sat her
Grace of Ellswold, Lady Constance and Mistress Penwick, engaged with
limning and embroidery. Lord Cedric and Sir Julian entered, attired
in the most modish foppery of the time. The latter was saying, as he
soundly rapped his pouncet-box,--
"His demeanour is too provincial, too provincial--ah!"--and he bent
low with grave formality to Mistress Penwick as Cedric presented him;
then turning to the duchess continued,--"I was saying, your Grace,
that Dryden is provincial in his demeanour, when compared to his Grace
of Buckingham."
"Indeed, Julian, thou dost speak lightly of such gigantic genius;
beside, 'twould not be fair to compare sun and moon; and how could we
do without either the one or the other?"
"To which dost thou comparison his Grace?"
"The moon, of course!" said the Duchess.
"And to what planet is my lord a satellite?"
"Nay, I know not; thou dost question of one who knows little of
astronomy; but I think perhaps Mars, as the planet doth resemble earth
more closely than any other."
"Bravo, 'tis a rare simile; and I take it thou didst speak in
derogation;--no matter how true the _inuendo_, it is ever the material
we most appreciate and enjoy, and the sun being nearly ninety-three
million miles from the earth, 'tis too remote to be interesting."
"Indeed, Julian, Dryden in five minutes' converse will stir one to
seriousness by his fancy, to tears by his pathos, and to thoughts of
deity by his sublimity."
"'Tis only a great, good, noble nature like thine that could be so
stirred; believe me, your Grace, thou didst dissemble these emotions
from pure charity."
"Well, well, we must all admit that 'tis not his character that
commands our respect and esteem, but his prose and poesy. We all love
Buckingham, but in our appreciation of him we must not exclude reason
and put him before all others,"--and her Grace turned abruptly to
Mistress Penwick. "Here is an admirer of Dryden's compositions, she
clings pertinaciously and with all the ardour of strong youth to his
satire of 'Absalom and Achitophel,' although 'tis a bitter lampoon on
Monmouth and Shaftesbury; two men she heartily admires." Sir Julian
leant over the Duchess and spoke softly,--
"I was not aware Mistress Penwick had been presented?" And his keen
eyes scanned every lineament of her face and mould. Lord Cedric was
watching askance, and his face grew red with a stroke of passion as
he noted Sir Julian's look of evident admiration, and jealousy for
a moment swept the young lord's heart, and he cursed in thought
the wicked feeling that in connection with his noble friend could
predicate of naught but the foul fiends. Indeed, so open were Sir
Julian's glances that the maid herself became confused and said, with
some embarrassment,--
"My imagination is ofttime profligate, and I indulge--in fancy--in
exchange of word and thought with those great and exalted personages
whose noble compeers I have the good fortune to consort with daily."
And she laid her hand caressingly upon the Duchess' arm.
"Then 'twould serve thee greatly to place thee within the shadow of
Whitehall, aye, Mistress?"
"'Twould be a great happiness, Sir Julian."
"Dost know of any greater, my lady?" It seemed his eyes would pierce
her very soul.
"I must admit it; I have a great desire," and her face grew rose-hued
and her heart fluttered with the bold words she was about to utter--
"Ah, thou dost wish for, or have a desire to enter the--"
"The distinguished service of a Lady of Honour." As one looked upon
her great beauty, 'twas a wonder she was not born a queen.
Upon hearing the maid's words, Constance in jealous rage fell to
inordinate laughter and shook her work to the floor, and as Lord
Cedric stooped to regain it he whipped out,--
"And why, pray, art thou so amused; 'tis most like Julian to promote
this idea, and she will straightway wish to leave us. I am sure one
glimpse of her would set the whole court on fire."
"Such startling metaphor, unless indeed thou dost allude to the colour
of her hair!" She spoke with so much malice and hate Lord Cedric was
stirred to amazement, and for the first time his eyes were opened to
Constance' hate of one whom he loved beyond all else on earth. He had
thought her merely jealous of the maid, but now he saw 'twas hatred.
Sir Julian paid no heed to aught save Mistress Penwick's brave colour
as it came and went, and the fervour of her eyes as they looked into
his. He came nearer to being shaken than ever before in his twenty odd
years of slow and fast living.
"If I might be so honoured by the privilege, I would present thy
desire straightway to the Duchess here, who would no doubt place thee
at once at court." Mistress Penwick arose, unable to contain her
perturbed spirit, and said,--
"Sir Julian, how can I ever--" and she stopped, so stirred was she
with her emotion; very much as a child is wrought to wonderment by the
sight of a marvelous toy. Julian offered his arm, and they sauntered
up and down the room, Sir Julian boldly playing his part. If Katherine
had been less innocent, she might have seen that he was not sincere.
He said:
"I see no reason why thou shouldst not begin preparation at once
for thy journey. The Duke is progressing finely and her Grace could
perhaps accompany thee as well now as at another time. Wilt thou
prepare at once, Mistress Penwick?" If the king had already sent for
her, he could not have talked with more confidence; but there was
something he must know. As he insisted on an immediate journey, she
turned scarlet, and bit her lip, and frowned.
"There are a few matters I must see to; I could hardly leave within a
week;--there is no hurry!"
"On the contrary there is a great hurry, for I must leave at once,
and I would escort thee. I think I shall leave by dawn to-morrow."
Katherine's brow puckered still more as she stood upon the seesaw of
duty and ambition, perplexed to know which way to turn. It appeared
the better quality was innate and her brow cleared, as she said,--
"'Twould be impossible to go so soon. I could not ask her Grace to
leave when the Duke is so ill; for, beside a long journey, much time
might be required ere I should be presented. I must have time--a lady
should have a great number to attend her--"
"Thou hast a host in thy nurse, Janet; she is quite enough for the
journey, and at London there will be a matron for each finger of thy
hand. I can see no reason why thou shouldst not start at once, if the
Duchess so decides." They were quite alone now, and Katherine,
being well cornered and being young and given to confiding, felt so
irresistibly drawn toward this man at her side, she looked up into his
face and said,--
"Canst thou not guess, after all thou didst see last night, why I am
kept from going?"
"I cannot; methinks 'twould be a happy moment to say _adieu_ to such
scenes."
"Then thou dost not know I am to wed Count Cantemir, Lady Constance'
cousin?"
"I think thy heart an alien to love; for if thou wouldst sooner become
a Lady of Honour than wed one to whom thou hast 'trothed thyself, 'tis
sure thou hast no love; 'tis caprice or--what one wills to call it,
and thou hadst better fly from a marriage that has not love in it."
"But I know not what to do. I have given my promise to wed, and I want
to go to London."
"Then I beg to assist thee to thy heart's desire as soon as thou
hast found what its desire is; and I insist thou dost examine the
weather-vane of thy mind and discern its bent. I am by thy side,
groping in darkness for that thou wouldst have. I am bound to serve
thee."
"Sir Julian, thou dost nonplus my understanding of myself absurdly.
I agree I have more minds than one, and 'tis disconcerting to try in
haste to ascertain which is the best. Indeed, I do not wish to make a
false step and do that 'twould make me sorry ever after."
"'Twould be well to have one to guide thee in thine uncertainty. I
should aspire to such an office with alacrity, if thou wouldst but
give me one encouraging glance." For a moment they looked into each
other's eyes, then Katherine's lids dropped and she became as clay
in his hands. And before she was aware, she had told him all things.
These matters were not altogether new to Sir Julian, for Lord Cedric
had discoursed at length upon them, but the nucleus he sought was
found, and he listened perfunctorily to all else, feasting his eyes
upon her face and listening only to the music of her voice.
"Then why, may I ask, didst thou discard Cedric's suit?"
"He is tyrannical and cruel, and even though my heart should incline
toward him, 'twould not be meet for me to wed with one of another
faith."
"'Tis possible thou couldst win him to thy way of thinking."
"Nay, I should not try it; for I have cast all thought of him aside."
"Then thou dost acknowledge having had a tenderness for him? 'Tis well
thou dost so fling him aside, he is unworthy of thy consideration."
"Not so; he is most noble, but--but--I know not what,--he is haughty
and full of temper and given to harsh language--"
"Yet he is not a fit companion for thee, sayest thou?"
"Thou dost greatly misunderstand me; he is on the contrary a most
delightful person to converse with and every whit fit to be a
King;--but we are not suited to each other."
"Was it not thy father's desire for thee to soon wed and to this man?"
"Even so; but he knew not my Lord Cedric but his father; beside--"
"Well--"
"I am expecting to hear from my father in the near future--"
"Ah!"
"--and 'tis possible he will come to me or send and make some change.
I have asked him to appoint another guardian for me and my estates."
"'Twould be a wise thing to do, no doubt; but 'tis possible Cedric has
used already thine inheritance." Mistress Penwick flushed hotly.
"Nay, thou dost judge him ill; he is above such a thing." And Sir
Julian knew what the poor maid knew not herself, and he felt 'twas a
safe thing to carry through his adventure.
"Then there are two things that weigh upon thee. Thou knowest not
whether to wed or become a Lady of Honour. I will warn thee that thou
must not dwell long upon them, for 'tis possible if thou dost
not decide very early, I will be able to help thee to nothing
but--myself."
Mistress Penwick flushed warmly and smiled back at him; and her desire
for admiration drove her on and on, and she soon forgot all else save
the man by her side, and it appeared that no matter how he tried to
break the spell of her witchery, he could not leave her for a moment.
It fell out that before three days had passed, they were deep in
admiration of each other. Cedric was racked by doubt and fear, yet
never for an instant letting go his faith in Julian. Constance was
happy that Katherine was so diverted, keeping thereby Cedric from any
rash moves, and giving herself time to visit the tree that often held
so much of importance. And she managed to outwit the ubiquitous Janet
and hailed with joy the day of the great battle when Mistress Penwick
was to be removed from her pathway forever.
The disappearance of Adrian Cantemir was not spoken of--as if 'twere
a matter of too small import;--and yet he hovered ominously in their
minds; and Katherine most of all desired to forget her promise and
every word she had spoken to him, and Constance understood and would
not let her forget, planning night and day to bring them together
again....
To look back from the lower terrace at the castle was to see a
gorgeous display of blossom. The ivy-clad walls stood a rich
background to the splendour of tinted flower. Indeed, the scene
appeared not unlike an enormous nosegay lying upon a hill of moss. The
night had brought showers, and from every minute projection of twig,
leaf or petal glistened limpid drops, some swelling with honey
and falling like dew upon the young sward. The birds twittered
ceaselessly, and some young thing preening upon a light blossomy twig
scattered down, anon, perfume upon some shy young fawn, and he leapt
away frightened by so dainty a bath and plunged knee-deep in crystal
pools and sent the stately swans skimming hurriedly to a quiet and
sheltered cove.
From the Chapel came indistinctly the sound of the organ in a prelude,
it would seem, to the day. 'Twas Sir Julian's wont to rise early and
draw--it may be--inspiration from the full vibrant chords of sweet
harmony.
From an upper casement leant forth Mistress Penwick with a face as
delicately tinted as the blossoms of the peach that flaunted their
beauty at some distance. She appeared to be arranging violets--that
still sparkled with rain--in an oblong porcelain box that lay flat
upon the casement. Her white jewelled fingers flitted in and out of
the blue depths. Her small white teeth were but half eclipsed and
there fluttered forth from her parted lips a low humming that keyed
and blended with the organ. Her soft white dress enveloped her mould
loosely; her long flowing sleeves, prefaced by rare lace, displaying
her pink, round arm. She wore not the look of care; for she had thrown
all such evil weight upon one who played in yonder sacred shrine
so tranquilly, as if nothing but his own sins rested--and they but
feather-weight--upon his soul. On he played, and she arranged her
flowers, and up the avenue came horses' feet and Lady Constance
unattended came riding near the castle and called up to the vision of
beauty that leant from the window,--
"'Tis a glorious morning for riding forth. I have had a fine jaunt and
met nothing but the post-boy,"--and here she showed a billet and rode
close to the wall and hid it neath the ivy--"and a famous adventure
which I've half a mind to pursue, after--I've 'suaged my hunger. If I
ride thus every morning, I shall soon have an arm as pink and round
and perfect in mould as thine own. Hast thou broken fast?"
"I have had my simple allotment, and have been down on the lower
terraces and gathered these violets, and am now hungry again and
Janet has gone for a wing of fowl and some wine." At these words Lady
Constance looked about her cautiously and spoke in low tones,--
"Everything is ready for thy flight. I saw Adrian this morning. He is
handsomer than ever and eager to see thee, and counts the hours 'til
nightfall. If 'tis possible thou art to escape unnoticed to the
monastery, where the nuptials will be performed at once, then thou art
to depart immediately for Whitehall, where thou wilt be made much of
by the King and he will more like detain thy husband under pretext,
and mayhap offer him some honour for the sake of keeping thy beauty
in England."--With a wave of the hand Mistress Penwick bade Lady
Constance depart as Janet stood within the door.
The castle was astir early, as if there was naught but a glorious day
before them, and they would make it of much length. It seemed as if a
great peace had settled upon those ivy-clad walls, or it might be the
calm that is the solemn presage of storm, and Sir Julian himself quiet
beyond his wont seemed to portend the calamities that were to ensue;
and after his breakfast stood at a window watching the dripping trees
and whistling so softly one could not tell whether 'twere he or the
birds chirping without. Cedric and Lady Constance played at battledore
and shuttlecock. Mistress Penwick sat apart, busy with thought and
needle. His Grace of Ellswold sat up that morning, his wife and
physicians by his side, and all were happy with the great improvement.
Meanwhile, at the monastery all was commotion. The day there would be
far too short to accomplish all that was to be done. Three couriers
had arrived since dawn with important dispatches. In the midst of
the monks, who sat upon long benches that flanked either side of a
spacious gallery, sat Adrian Cantemir, reading the last message.
Opposite, at the table, were three monks apparently engaged upon their
own affairs, but subtly watching the puzzled countenance of their
guest. Finally their patience seemed to have run out and Constantine,
the monk directly _vis-a-vis_ to Cantemir, coughed, cleared his throat
and in low gutterals said,--
"Thy countenance is unfair; 'tis a perjury on thy happy heart." Adrian
looked up with a start, so lost was he in contemplation. His letter
was prophetic of evil, and he was afraid.
"'Tis ill news, and thou wert not far wrong to bring forth thine
arms. The secrets to be intrusted to my wife it seems have already
reached--"
"The King?" and with the words it appeared each Abbé was upon his feet
and leaning forward intent.
"Nay, but the arch-fiends Buckingham and Monmouth. And with the King's
consent they leave for a hunting bout and they ride hither. It says
that the former in masque saw my meeting this morning with Lady
Constance, and he followed and made love to her." The Abbés stood in
utter dismay and dejection. At last, Dempsy of the Cow and Horn began
in deep, full tones the first movement of the "Kyrie eleison, Christe
Eleison, Kyrie eleison," and one by one every voice leapt up in a
God-have-mercy, and the walls echoed and without the birds seemed to
take it up, and it was carried to a listening ear not far from the
shadow of the wall. Then the prayer ceased and La Fosse--half soldier,
half priest--spoke in ringing tones.
"And what else does thy billet say? Why are we to be attacked; are we
not upon our own ground?"
"It is mooted that should my wife gain the King's ear, she will
influence him to consent not only on this thy matter but others of
great importance that now pend. It is said that Buckingham has boasted
of rare sport in routing a full score of knaves; taking treasure--"
Cantemir's eyes swept keenly the visage of Constantine--of great
value, beside the beauteous maid that is to arrive; for he says 'tis
sure she will be worth as much to them as the King. He refers to
himself and Monmouth, who mean to take my wife prisoner this very
night."
"'Tis enough," said La Fosse, with a deprecating gesture. "We must put
on the armour of strength and gird ourselves for battle. We have all
to fight for that that is honourable: home, virtue and religion. What
more could we ask for to strengthen us?"
"'Tis well said," quoth Constantine. "Judging from thy billet, we are
not to be attacked until the maid hath arrived. Is it known, also, at
what hour she is to come?"
"If they know so much, they perhaps know even all."
"Then we must hasten the hour by two, and 'twill incur no disadvantage
save to bring the maid to a greater discretion and show of wit; for
'twill be harder for her to escape at nine than eleven."
"Methinks 'twill be a greater task to warn the maid of the setting
forth of the hour." Adrian looked up hopefully; for he was of no
mind to meet his wife upon the threshold of a battle, and two hours
earlier, 'twould be time and to spare, and he spoke out bravely,--
"I'll see to the message," and he was guilty of a low-bred wink at
Dempsy.
"Then 'twill serve to set aside this matter for the next," and La
Fosse looking at Cantemir and speaking softly and deferentially bade
him leave them for the present.
Adrian left the room by the door he had entered it, and passing
through a hall reentered the chamber that had been assigned him.
The Russian, though a coward, was wary at times and allowed it to
carry him into danger, and as an example he changed his riding garb
for his cavalier costume, discarding his spurred boots for high-heeled
slippers and deigning not to don coat or waistcoat started forth in
search of--he must think what? He was without servant, as 'twas safer
to leave him at the Cow and Horn;--especially one who has corners on
his conscience. He must search for--the kitchen. This place was below
stairs, and he stole this way and that to find a flight of steps.
Treading softly, listening intently and looking ravenously for
opportunity to plunder, for there was treasure somewhere about the
monastery, this was certain, and he might as well have part of it as
Buckingham and Monmouth to have it all. And in case of any mischance
and Mistress Penwick be lost to him, he must have something to live
upon. Constance would never forgive him for allowing the maid to
escape him, and consequently would not give him large loans as
heretofore. But if he should gain the fair prize, some day he would
give back to his church even more than he had taken. As he thus
thought, he forgot for a moment his present surroundings and was
suddenly reminded by a touch on the shoulder,
CHAPTER XIII
AS NINE TOLLED FROM THE CHAPEL BELFRY
He started quickly and looked up shuddering, and saw a tall, slender
monk with cowl so drawn not a feature could be seen. The Abbé spoke
low and hoarsely, as though a cold prevented better utterance,--
"What seekest thou?"
"The kitchen," Cantemir answered, with a great show of bravery.
"And what there to find, my young man?"
"Pen and paper. I must write to Mistress Penwick."
"Ah yes, ah yes, my son. I had forgotten. Curve thy sentences to the
point, without being so broad in assertion another might understand.
Thou hadst better put it this way--"
"Indeed I thought I had my meaning well covered. I had proposed to
say--"
"Ah, we are not alone; step this way." The monk turned to a panelling
that gave way by a touch, and to Cantemir's surprise they were alone
in a dark and vaulted passage; indeed they were unable to discern
aught. Quickly the Abbé drew his companion from the panelling through
which they had passed; and 'twas hardly done when three monks followed
with lighted candles. The foremost was Constantine, carrying an
enormous bunch of keys. Their long robes swept Cantemir's feet. He
drew a quick breath, and before it sounded his companion placed his
hand over his mouth. Now this hand smacked not of holy mould or
monastic incense, but rather of rare perfume; but Cantemir was
frightened and did not notice the worldliness of the admonishing hand.
The monks proceeded down the passage; stopping near the centre they
lifted from the floor a trapdoor. A ladder was brought and swung down
the opening and the three descended.
"Now, my son, thou hadst better write thy billet, and if thou dost not
find one to carry it, I will be along directly and do the service for
thee. I must visit the village and the tree, my son. Now I'll give
thee a bit of advice. Never again go about looking for anything where
'tis supposed there is treasure. If it had not been for my timely
interruption, my brothers there would have found thee and not
so easily forgiven thy inclination for discovery. Go, go in
peace--remember always, that discretion is the wit of safety."
Cantemir was frightened, and glad to get away, for he feared the
Abbé's smooth tones masqued treachery, and he slid through the
panelling and in very earnest sought the kitchen.
The deceitful monk hastened toward the open trap and kneeling gazed
for a moment below. There came up a foul odour that made him flinch
and draw back; he drew his handkerchief and placed it to his nose and
leant again and looked. There was a faint glimmer that showed in which
direction the lights were. He lay flat and putting his head beneath
the opening, saw the priests leaning over a chest. Quickly he prepared
to descend and was upon the second rung of the ladder, when the
panelling again opened and a half-dozen faces looked through; anger
and indignation upon all but one, and that was the Russian's, which
bore joy of a discovery. He had gone to the refectory with good intent
to write his letter; but finding a small company of monks gathered
there and they appearing much perturbed, he asked the cause. One
said there was a strange Abbé in the monastery, whose hands were as
bejewelled as any fop's, and that a number had gone in search of him.
The false monk's hand had betrayed him, as 'twas seen from a window as
he uncovered it to open the door. Now Cantemir thought it a good, safe
moment to become a hero and straightway told of his encounter; saying
he was in search of the refectory and had lost his way; making a
plausible story. He was carried forth with the party in search and
now came toward the opening in the passage with drawn sword, his face
wearing the masque of bravery.
The man upon the ladder was the same that had listened to the "Kyrie
eleison" from without, and before it concluded had made his way
inside: the Duke of Buckingham.
He jumped like a cat under cover of his pursuer's noisy entrance and
slipped away from the opening. Quickly he drew from him the robe and
cowl and flung them down upon the ladder and drawing his sword stood
waiting and almost eager for a fight. He did not forget, however,
that there is often a practiced and keen thrust from the folds of a
priest's habit. But they were confident the false Abbé was beneath,
and with less noise and more subtleness moved toward the opening. As
they did so, his Grace swung round and cautiously approached the wall
where the panelling was. "Aye, aye," he heard, as the foremost man
found the robe. Straightway they all rushed below stair, and as
the head of the last man disappeared, his Grace went through the
panelling, and within five minutes stood safe in the forest, happy
with the knowledge he had gained.
It was near the hour of five when Lady Constance rode forth alone. She
left the courtyard unnoticed and hurried to the village and through it
and on beyond toward the tree and passed it and galloped some distance
beyond, then seeing she was not followed made a quick turn and
retraced, But there came from a bend in the road a horseman that rode
warily. She again turned to see if any came, and seeing no one stopped
at the tree and brought from its cavity a letter. As she replaced the
knot, there was such a sudden sound of horses' feet behind her she
dropped the billet and her unknown squire leapt from his horse to
recover it, and stood uncovered before her with such a long, low bow
of homage he had most time to read the missive. Lady Constance was
flattered and felt surely that one with such courtly dress and bearing
could be nothing less than a Duke and his wearing of a full masque
made her doubly sure of it. She flushed and reached out her hand for
the letter and spoke in her most seductive tones,--
"My lord,"--he looked up and saw on her pretty, though characterless
face a smile that warranted a further acquaintance. He placed the
letter in her hand slowly, then caught her hand and held it firmly;
indeed their hands touched and lingered together with such intention
it conveyed much more meaning than words. Constance had all the
outward show of a great lady, but at soul she was putrescent. There
came such a heartrending sigh from her cavalier she spoke in a most
tender tone,--
"And why such sighing?"
"Is it not enough, sweet lady?"
"I am at a loss?"
"Nay, rather 'tis I that am at loss; for I had sought to gain thy
favour undivided, and I meet with thee only to give into thy hands a
trysting billet that lifts thy glorious orbs above me." He bowed low
in mock humility. Constance' heart fluttered at his ardent words.
"I would fain know who thus sues for a woman's love; 'tis possible--"
He lowered his masque. "Ah, his Grace of Monmouth!" She well-nigh
prostrated herself upon the saddle, in lieu of the fine courtesy
she would have swept had her position been more favourable. His
words--such gloriously sweet words when uttered by the lips of a
Duke--fed her vanity. Her face flushed as she thought of what his
love must be. He saw his vantage and drew nearer--it may be a hair's
breadth over the line of respect--indeed 'twould have been an
innovation had he not done so, as the time warranted nothing else but
a show at virtue.
"Your Grace finds a maid that is heart whole; but I would aid others
to their desire. I but act as post-boy 'twixt tree and castle."
"Thou art cold and cruel. I can see well thou dost hold tightly to thy
bosom thy billet; thou art afraid 'twill betray thee. Thou art the
maid herself that doth own it?" Constance had a burning curiosity to
know why Monmouth was in the neighbourhood of Crandlemar, and though
he insinuated he had come purposely to see her, yet she was not blind
and wondered what diplomacy she could use to gain from him the desired
knowledge. Could it be possible he had come on behalf of the King,
and if so, for what business? The Catholics surely had not been so
indiscreet as to allow their affairs to reach the King's ears? And if
so, why should he send to them? It was not at all likely any one knew
of the monastery so hidden away in a dense forest. Could it be that
the beauty of Mistress Penwick had become notorious at Whitehall and
that the Duke was hunting for her? These thoughts passed speedily
through her brain, while the ogling Monmouth waited for her answer to
his accusation. She spoke with a shy little twist of her head, vainly
trying to blush like little innocence.
"How can I hold out against thee, Duke? Thou dost steal my secret;
here, then, read it for thyself." With a lightening glance he finished
reading what he had begun before.
"I was right, sweet Katherine; 'tis a trysting letter, and thou art
to go to him to-night at nine? Thou shalt not; I'll have thee for
myself." Now they had made a great mistake. Constance thought to
convince the Duke she had no lover. He misunderstood and believed
her to be the Katherine he had come after. She, thinking to gain his
secret, allowed him to think so, and quickly took up her new part.
"Thou dost embarrass me, Duke!"
"In very truth," said he, "we have heard of thy great beauty at
Whitehall, and have come hither to claim thee for ourselves. Thou
shalt be my very own, sweet Katherine. The King was about to send
forth to Crandlemar to enquire of his Grace of Ellswold. We asked for
the service, that we might gain sight of thy rare beauty. We are about
to pay our respects to the Duke who lies yonder, and at the King's
order bring him important news. We have heard, however, his condition
is most critical, and we cannot see him until high noon to-morrow, as
the midday finds him stronger. And I must see thee, sweet one, again
before the night is over. I cannot wait for the morrow's noon." He
caught her hand and pressed his lips to it, resting himself against
the horse, his arm thrown carelessly across Constance' knee. She
deemed it an honour to be in such close proximity to the royal Duke,
and grew red with his amorous glances and soft-spoken words and the
familiarity of his arm upon her.
"Indeed, it doth seem to me also like a very long time to wait," and
she sighed heavily. At this Monmouth drew her down and kissed her upon
her thin, arrogant lips. She, well-nigh beside herself, exclaimed in a
thin, high voice,--
"Ah, ah, Duke, thou dost kill me--I must hasten away from thee. I must
go." She spurred her horse; but the Duke caught the rein and held it
fast.
"Nay, nay, thou shalt not yet be gone. Wouldst thou be so cruel to
leave me now at Love's first onset? I will not have it!"
"But I must hasten,--I am riding alone, and some one will be sent for
me if I do not soon return to the castle."
"Thou must give me promise first, sweet one!"
"Promise,--promise of what?" and she listened eagerly to his next
words.
"Dost thou not covet a Prince's favour?" Constance' heart fluttered
mightily, and she thought--"A fig for Cedric's love of me. He loves
not at all, compared with this man's warm passion. Cedric loves me not
at all, anyway. I will be a Prince's favourite," and she answered,--
"I never covet that which is beyond my reach." 'Tis often a true thing
that when we sit within our dark and dismal chamber without comfort,
hope or happy retrospection, there stands upon the threshold a joyous
phenomenon of which we have never so much as dreamt as being in
existence; and this had come to Constance. If the Duke loved her, what
would it matter if Cedric did love Katherine? She could not compel him
to love her.
"Ah, sweet Katherine, how can one covet that they already possess? I
would teach thee to enjoy all that such beauty as thine is heir to.
Thou wilt come to me to-night?"
"To-night!" and Lady Constance fairly gasped.
"To-night, fair one, on the stroke of nine thou wilt pass through the
postern door of the castle and fall into my arms,--here, take this,
sweet, to pledge thyself." He slipped from his finger a ring of
marvellous beauty and essayed to place it upon her hand.
"Nay, I cannot. I should be seen to go forth at so early an hour,--and
I know thee not!"
"Thou art not afraid of me? Nay, I am one of the most gentle and
tender--"
"But where wilt thou take me, your Grace?"
"I will take thee to my heart, and if thou art unhappy, thou mayest
return when thou desirest; but 'twill be my pleasure to keep thee with
me alway; we will go to London." Constance, having read the letter,
knew it would not do for her to leave the drawing-room at the same
hour with Katherine, and she hardly knew what to do.
"Indeed, I have no wish to see a duel upon my Lord Cedric's grounds,
thou must come later. My love will perhaps wait an hour,--thou mayest
come at twelve."
"And allow him to come first and steal thee; nay, I protest."
Constance felt somewhat dubious. The Duke saw it, and hastened to
reassure her.
"If thou wilt sit near the window on the stroke of nine, I will let
thy lover go; but if thou dost pass from my sight, I will run the
fellow through; and thou mayest come to me at twelve!"
To this Constance agreed, and allowed him to place the ring; and he
kissing her again with fervour, let her go, exultant.
'Twas a glorious, clear, warm night. The castle was aglow and merry.
Lady Bettie Payne and Sir Rodger Mac Veigh and Sir Jasper Kenworthy
and sundry other shire folk had come to while away a spring night. The
gentlemen were playing at cup and ball; Lady Constance and Lady Bettie
were gossiping of Court scandal, when in swept her Grace of Ellswold
with Mistress Penwick, the latter such a vision of loveliness the game
was suspended for a moment, and Constance and Bettie looked up to see
why all eyes were turned from them.
The maid wore a pale-hued brocade gown of sweeping length of skirt,
and short, round bodice and low-neck and long sleeves that tightly
encased her plump, pink arms. Her mother's pearls lay glistening about
her slender neck, and falling low was caught again by some caprice
of mode high where met sleeve and waist, and here a rare bunch of
fragrant violets shone bravely as a shoulder knot.
Lord Cedric saw her first, and was well-nigh drunk with her beauty,
and he advanced and bent low, kissing her hand that trembled in his
own. He raised his eyes to hers, she looking fairly at him with a
ready smile.
"Kate, Kate--" Such a flood of emotion came upon him he was bereft of
speech. She looked at him surprised, and wondered if he knew aught.
Could it be that Sir Julian had found out anything and had spoken to
Cedric? She was sure she had kept this last secret safe from all save
Constance, and had not been with Sir Julian for a whole day, fearing
he would find out by looking at her. Nay, he knew nothing,--beside, if
he did, he would shield her from Cedric's anger by keeping so great
a secret. And yet it almost seemed as if the young lord knew of her
desperate act; 'twas written on his face, she saw the pain upon it;
and yet, how could it be? These thoughts flashed through Katherine's
brain, and she tried to move from him, but an inscrutable presence
held her, and she felt she must not leave him, perhaps forever, with
that face so full of pain, and she spoke out a word she had never
used before and one which touched his Lordship as nothing else could,
'twas:
"Cedric." He caught his breath with sheer excess of joy, and bent
again and whispered,--
"What, Kate; what is it?" 'Twas enough, she laughed quietly and turned
to Sir Julian, who had come to her side. Lady Constance was not long
in finding an opportunity to speak alone with her.
"Oh, sweet," she said. "I haven't had a chance to talk with thee of my
adventure," and she drew the maid aside and began volubly to speak
of her encounter of the early morning. "He was most certainly of the
Court. I cannot possibly mistake his manner. Indeed, I am certain
he is a noble lord, and no doubt is here to bear Cantemir
escort--perhaps--" and she leant close to Katherine--"it might be the
King himself, who knows?" Her listener flushed and thought--
"Was it possible she was to receive such honour, and why not?" She had
heard from Constance and Cantemir himself that his house was a very
wealthy and important one in Russia and that the English royalty and
nobles made much of him. She, with her poor knowledge of the world,
thought Constance spoke truth.
"I'll tell thee why I thought he was the King. He was the form, grace
and elegance of his Royal Highness and kept his masque securely tied.
I'm sure it was he. And this evening,--ah, ah, how can I ever tell
thee, Katherine, the honour I felt! Indeed we do not know how
important Adrian is until we see those with whom he consorts. To-night
I met--who dost guess it was, Katherine?"
"Nay, I could never guess, for I know not whom Adrian's friends are;
but if thy friend of the morning was the King, 'tis certain the
setting sun brings thee one less titled."
"'Tis so, but one who may be a King. Thou wilt never tell, Katherine?"
"Nay, never."
"'Twas the King's son, his Grace the Duke of Monmouth."
"Ah, ah, a Prince! Thou art indeed favoured. And how came it about? I
am very curious." Lady Constance related part of her interview with
the Duke, embellished and with many deviations--
"He said they were to be at the monastery as witnesses and intimated
that the King had heard of thy wonderful beauty and grew so impatient
to see thee he must either come himself or send some one he could
trust. Monmouth said thy request was already granted in the King's
mind, and he only waited to see thee to give it utterance. Thou dost
know what a good Catholic he is, and hearing they were to send thee to
ask certain things of his clemency, he has sent the Duke with other
special guard to render speed and safety to thy journey to Whitehall,
where great honour will be shown Adrian's fair bride." Constance so
entered into the very soul of her lies, she half believed them as she
gave them utterance.
The young maid was well-nigh beside herself with pleasure at the
honours that were to attend her, and she gave up all idea of a
backward step. And when Constance proclaimed she was to accompany her,
her heart leapt up with joy. She gave no place to doubt now, 'twas an
unknown quantity, and her voice trembled as she said--"It makes me
perfectly content, if thou art to accompany me. Thou wilt go with
me to the monastery, Constance?" For once her ladyship answered
truthfully, but she did not know it:
"Nay, I am to join thee some time after twelve; I know not just when
or where; but we are to be together. I owe this especial favour to the
Duke. I am so glad thou art espoused, or will be in a short while, or
I should be insanely jealous. Look, Katherine!" and Constance under
cover of her handkerchief showed the ring.
"Isn't it beautiful?" said Katherine.
Mistress Penwick, like many another of her beauty and age, was
inclined to be of ill-spirit when another of her sex seemed to be in
favour; and at Constance' sudden acquaintance with the King's son,
and able to wear his ring, she was piqued, and almost wished it was
herself instead; for in such intimacy there could be nothing else but
a very near and exalted position at Court. The poor child--innocent
of all evil seeing naught in the gaining of Royal favour but the
achievement of all that was high, holy, beautiful and perfect--now
for a brief moment scorned her own poor estate and fell to envying
Constance, and was of a notion not to go at all to the monastery;--but
if she didn't, then her religion would suffer; for who could go to the
King in her place? She knew she was beautiful, and knew its influence,
and was sure the King would not refuse her. Now if Lord Cedric had not
forbidden her going to the monastery for confession, she could have
known what they wished and gone openly with Lady Constance or Sir
Julian, or perhaps just with Janet to his Majesty and gained his
favour and at once have become a Lady of Honour. But no, 'twas not
thus, and things were as they were, and she could not change them or
retrace.
She would not engage in any game, but played upon the harpsichord and
sung some of her sweetest songs; Lord Cedric ever coming to her side
to turn her music or offer some little service. He was aflame with
hope, for had she not called him "Cedric"?
How dear it sounded; if he might only hear her say it again. He came
to her side and whispered,--
"'Twas sweet of thee to call me Cedric!"--His hand for a moment rested
upon the violets at her shoulder,--"Kate, why didst thou not wear the
opal shoulder-knot instead of these violets?"
"Because--I value it more than aught else, and I would not wear it on
all occasions, for 'twas thy mother's choicest brooch."
"Indeed, I love it, also, Kate, for the same reason; but I would
rather see thee wear it, for I love thee, Kate, thee, thee, thee." His
voice was like a sob stirring her to a pity that made her sick and
weak, and she turned from him hastily and began singing softly,--