"KEEP TRYST"
LLOYD and Betty were starting to undress when there was a light tap at
the door, and Gay's head appeared. In response to their eager call, she
came in, and, shutting the door behind her, stood with her back against
it.
"No, I can't sit down," she answered. "It's too late to stop. I only ran
in to tell you that Maud got home about five minutes ago. 'Charlie' came
with her as far as the door and Madam has just sent for her to demand an
explanation. She told her roommate that she knew she was in for a
scolding, and that, as one might as well be killed for a sheep as a
lamb, she made her good time last as long as she could. After the
matinee they had a little supper at some roof-garden or cafe or
something of the kind, where there was a band concert. Then he brought
her out on the car, and they strolled along the river road home. The
moon was just beginning to come up. She's had a beautiful time, and
thinks she has done something awfully cute, but she'll think differently
by the time Madam is through with her."
"Will she be very terrible?" asked Lloyd, pausing with brush in hand.
"I don't know," answered Gay. "Nothing like this has happened since I
have been at the Hall, but I've heard her say that this is not a reform
school, and girls who have to be punished and scolded are not wanted
here. If they can't measure up to the standard of good behaviour, they
can't stay. As long as this is the first offence, she'll probably be
given another trial, but I'd not care to be in her shoes when Madam
calls her to judgment."
No one ever knew what passed between the two in the up-stairs office,
but Maud sailed down to breakfast next morning as if nothing had
happened. The only difference in her manner was when Lloyd and Gay took
their places opposite her at the table. They glanced across with the
usual good morning, but she looked past them as if she neither saw nor
heard.
"Cut dead!" whispered Lloyd. Gay giggled, as she unfolded her napkin.
"I'm very sure she has no cause to be angry with us. We are the ones
who ought to act offended."
Soon after breakfast they were called into Miss Chilton's room, but to
their great relief found that she already knew what had happened, and
that they were to be questioned only about their own part in the affair.
So presently Gay passed out to her Latin recitation, and Lloyd wandered
around the room, waiting for the literature class to assemble.
Miss Chilton's room was the most attractive one in the Hall. It looked
more like a cheerful library than a schoolroom. Low book-shelves lined
the walls, with here and there a fine bust in bronze or Carrara marble.
Pictures from many lands added interest, and the wicker chairs, instead
of being arranged in stiff rows, stood invitingly about, as if in a
private parlour. There were always violets on Miss Chilton's desk, and
ferns and palms in the sunny south windows. The recitations were carried
on in such a delightfully informal way that the girls looked forward to
this hour as one of the pleasantest of the day.
This morning, to their surprise, instead of questioning them about the
topic they had studied, Romance of the Middle Ages, she announced that
she had a story which Madam Chartley had requested her to read to them,
and she wished such close attention paid to it that afterward each one
could write it from memory for the next day's lesson.
"I have a reason for wishing to impress this little tale indelibly on
your minds," she said, "so I shall offer this inducement for
concentrating your attention upon it: five credits to each one who can
hand in a full synopsis of the story, and ten to the one who can
reproduce it most literally and fully."
There was a slight flutter of expectancy as the class settled itself to
listen, and, opening the little green and gold volume where a white
ribbon kept the place, she began to read:
"Now there was a troubadour in the kingdom of Arthur, who, strolling
through the land with only his minstrelsy to win him a way, found in
every baron's hall and cotter's hut a ready welcome. And while the
boar's head sputtered on the spit, or the ale sparkled in the shining
tankards, he told such tales of joust and journey, and feats of brave
knight errantry, that even the scullions left their kitchen tasks, and,
creeping near, stood round the door with mouths agape to listen.
"Then with his harp-strings tuned to echoes of the wind on winter moors,
he sang of death and valour on the field, of love and fealty in the
hall, till those who listened forgot all save his singing and the noble
knights whereof he sang.
"One winter night, as thus he carolled in a great earl's hall, a little
page crept nearer to his bench beside the fire, and, with his blue eyes
fixed in wonderment upon the graybeard's face, stood spellbound. Now
Ederyn was the page's name, an orphan lad whose lineage no man knew, but
that he came of gentle blood all eyes could see, although as vassal
'twas his lot to wait upon the great earl's squire.
"It was the Yule-tide, and the wassail-bowl passed round till boisterous
mirth drowned oftentimes the minstrel's song, but Ederyn missed no word.
Scarce knowing what he did, he crept so close he found himself with
upturned face against the old man's knee.
"'How now, thou flaxen-haired,' the minstrel said, with kindly smile.
'Dost like my song?'
"'Oh, sire,' the youth made answer, 'methinks on such a wing the soul
could well take flight to Paradise. But tell me, prithee, is it possible
for such as _I_ to gain the title of a knight? How doth one win such
honours and acclaim and reach the high estate that thou dost laud?'
"The minstrel gazed a little space into the Yule log's flame, and
stroked his long hoar beard. Then made he answer:
"'Some win their spurs and earn the royal accolade because the blood of
dragons stains their hands. From mighty combat with these terrors they
come victorious to their king's reward. And some there be sore scarred
with conquest of the giants that ever prey upon the borders of our fair
domain. Some, who have gone on far crusades to alien lands, and there
with heart of gold and iron hand have proved their fealty to the Crown.'
"Then Ederyn sighed, for well he knew his stripling form could never
wage fierce combat with a dragon. His hands could never meet the brawny
grip of giants. 'Is there no other way?' he faltered.
'I wot not,' was the answer. 'But take an old man's counsel. Forget thy
dreams of glory, and be content to serve thy squire. For what hast such
as thou to do with great ambitions? They'd prove but flames to burn away
thy daily peace.'
"With that he turned to quaff the proffered bowl and add his voice to
those whose mirth already shook the rafters. Nor had he any further
speech with Ederyn. But afterward the pretty lad was often in his
thoughts, and in his wanderings about the land he mused upon the
question he had asked.
"Another twelvemonth sped its way, and once again the Yule log burned
within the hall, and once again the troubadour knocked at the gate, all
in the night and falling snow. And as before, with merry jests they led
him in and made him welcome. And as before, was every mouth agape from
squire's to scullion's, as he sang.
"Once more he sang of knights and ladyes fair, of love and death and
valour; and Ederyn, the page, crept nearer to him till the harp-strings
ceased to thrill. With head upon his hands, he sat and sighed. Not even
when the wassail-bowl was passed with mirth and laughter did he look up.
And when the graybeard minstrel saw his grief, he thought upon his
question of the Yule-tide gone.
"'Ah, now, thou flaxen-haired,' he whispered in his ear. 'I bear thee
tidings which should make thee sing for joy. There is a way for even
such as thou to win the honours thou dost covet. I heard it in the royal
court when last I sang there at the king's behest.'
"Then all aquiver with his eagerness did Ederyn kneel, with face
alight, beside the minstrel's knee to hear.
"'Know this,' began the graybeard. ''Tis the king's desire to 'stablish
round him at his court a chosen circle whose fidelity hath stood the
utmost test. Not deeds of prowess are required of these true followers,
with no great conquests doth he tax them, but they must prove themselves
trustworthy, until on hand and heart it may be graven large, "_In all
things faithful._"
"'To Merlin, the enchanter, he hath left the choice, who by some strange
spell I wot not of will send an eerie call through all the kingdom. And
only those will hear who wake at dawn to listen in high places. And only
those will heed who keep the compass needles of their souls true to the
north star of a great ambition. The time of testing will be long, the
summons many. To duty and to sorrow, to disappointment and defeat, thou
may'st be called. No matter what the tryst, there is but one reply if
thou wouldst win thy knighthood. Give heed and I will teach thee now
that answer.'
"Then smiting on his harp, the minstrel sang, so softly under cover of
the noise, that only Ederyn heard. Through all the song ran ever this
refrain. It seemed a brooklet winding in and out through some fair
meadow:
"''Tis the king's call. O list!
Thou heart and hand of mine, keep tryst--
Keep tryst or die!'
"Then Ederyn, with his hand upon his heart, made solemn oath. 'Awake at
dawn and listening in high places will I await that call. With the
compass needle of my soul true to the north star of a great ambition
will I follow where it leads, and though through fire and flood it take
me, I'll make but this reply:
"''Tis the king's call. O list!
Thou heart and hand of mine, keep tryst--
Keep tryst or die!'
"Pressing the old man's hand in gratitude (he could say no word for the
strange fulness in his throat that well-nigh choked him), he rose from
his knees and left the hall to muse on what had passed.
"That night he climbed into the tower, and, with his face turned to the
east, kept vigil all alone. Below, the rioters waxed louder in their
mirth. The knife was in the meat, the drink was in the horn. But he
would not join their revels, lest morning find him sunk in sodden
sleep, heavy with feasting and witless from wine.
"As gray dawn trailed across the hills, he started to his feet, for far
away sounded the call for which he had been waiting. It was like the
faint blowing of an elfin horn, but the words came clearly.
"'Ederyn! Ederyn! One awaits thee at nightfall in the shade of the
yew-tree by the abbey tower! Keep tryst!'
"Now the abbey tower was the space of forty furlongs from the domain of
the earl, and full well Ederyn knew that only by especial favour of his
squire could he gain leave of absence for this jaunt. So, from sunrise
until dusk, he worked with will, to gain the wished-for leave. Never
before did buckles shine as did the buckles of the squire entrusted to
his polishing. Never did menial tasks cease sooner to be drudgery,
because of the good-will with which he worked. And when the day was
done, so well had every duty been performed, right willingly the squire
did grant him grace, and forthwith Ederyn sped upon his mission.
"The way was long, and, when he reached the abbey tree, he fell
a-trembling, for there a tall wraith stood within the shadows of the
yew. No face had it that he could see, its hands no substance, but he
met it bravely, saying: 'I am Ederyn, come to keep the king's tryst.'
"And then the spectre's voice replied: 'Well hast thou kept it, for 'tis
known to me the many menial tasks thou didst perform ere thou couldst
come upon thy quest. In token that we two have met, here is my pledge
that thou may'st keep to show the king.'
"He felt a light touch on the bosom of his inner vestment, and suddenly
he stood alone beside the gruesome abbey. Clammy with fear, he knew not
why, he drew his mantle round him and sped home as one speeds in a
fearsome dream. And that it was a dream he half-believed, when later, in
the hall, he served at meat those gathered round the old earl's board.
But when he sought his bed, and threw aside his outer garment, there on
his coarse, rough shirt of hodden gray a pearl gleamed white above his
heart, where the wraith's cold hand had touched him. It was the token to
the king that he had answered faithfully his call.
"Again before the dawn he climbed into the tower, and, listening when
the voices of the world were still, heard clear and sweet, like
far-blown elfin horn, another summons.
"'Ederyn! Ederyn! One awaits thee at the midnight hour beside black
Kilgore's water. Keep tryst!'
"Again to gain his squire's permission he toiled with double care. This
time his task was counting all the spears and halberds, the battle-axes
and the coats of mail that filled the earl's great armament. And o'er
and o'er he counted, keeping careful tally with a bit of keel upon the
iron-banded door, till the red lines that he marked there made his eyes
ache and his head swim. At last the task was finished, and so well the
squire praised him, and for his faithfulness again was fain to speed him
on his way.
"It was a woful journey to the waters of Kilgore. Sleep weighed on
Ederyn's eyelids, and haltingly he went the weary miles, footsore and
worn. But midnight found him on the spot where one awaited him, another
wraith-like envoy of the king, and it, too, left a touch upon his heart
in token he had kept the tryst. And when he looked, another pearl
gleamed there beside the first.
"So many a day went by, and Ederyn failed not in his homely tasks, but
carried to his common round of duties all his might, as if they were
great feats of prowess. Thus gained he liberty to keep the tryst with
every messenger the king did send.
"Once he fared forth along a dangerous road that led he knew not where,
and, when he found it crossed a loathly swamp all filled with slime and
creeping things, fain would he have fled. But, pushing on for sake of
his brave oath, although with fainting heart, he reached the goal at
last. This time his token made him wonder much. For when he wakened from
his swoon, a shining star lay on his heart above the pearls.
"Now it fell out the squire to whom this Ederyn was page was killed in
conflict with a robber band, and Ederyn, for his faithfulness, was taken
by the earl to fill that squire's place. Soon after that, they left the
hall, and journeyed on a visit to a distant lord. 'Twas to the Castle of
Content they came, where was a joyous garden. And now no menial tasks
employed the new squire's time. Here was he free to wander all the day
through vistas of the joyous garden, or loiter by the fountain in the
courtyard and watch the maidens at their tasks, having fair speech with
them among the flowers. And one there was among them, so lily-like in
face, so gentle-voiced and fair, that Ederyn well-nigh forgot his oath,
and felt full glad when for a space the king's call ceased to sound. And
gladder was he still, when, later on, the earl's long visit done, he
left young Ederyn behind to serve the great lord of the castle, for so
the two friends had agreed, since Ederyn had pleased the old lord's
fancy.
"Yet was he faithful to his vow, and failed not every dawn to mount to
some high place, when all the voices of the world were still, and listen
for the sound of Merlin's horn. One morn it came:
"'Ederyn! Ederyn! One waits thee far away. By the black cave of Atropos,
when the moon fulls, keep thy tryst!'
"Now 'twas a seven days' journey to that cave, and Ederyn, thinking of
the lily maid, was loath to leave the garden. He lingered by the
fountain until nightfall, saying to himself: 'Why should I go on longer
in these foolish quests, keeping tryst with shadows that vanish at the
touch? No nearer am I to a knight's estate than, when a stripling page,
I listened to the minstrel's tales.'
"The fountain softly splashed within the garden. From out the
banquet-hall there stole the sound of tinkling lutes, and then the lily
maiden sang. Her siren voice filled all his heart, and he forgot his
oath to duty. But presently a star reflected in the fountain made him
look up into the jewelled sky, where shone the polar constellation. And
there he read the oath he had forgotten: 'With the compass needle of my
soul true to the north star of my great ambition, I will follow where it
leads.'
"Thrusting his fingers in his ears to silence the beloved voice of her
who sang, he madly rushed from out the garden into the blackness of the
night. The Castle of Content clanged its great gate behind him. He
shivered as he felt the jar through all his frame, but, never taking out
his fingers, on he ran, till scores of furlongs lay between him and the
tempting of that siren voice.
"It was a strange and fearsome wood that lay between him and the cave.
All things seemed moaning and afraid. He saw no forms, but everywhere
the shadows shuddered, and moans and groans pursued him till nameless
fears clutched at his heart with icy chill. Then suddenly the earth
slipped way beneath his feet, and cold waves closed above his head. He
knew now he had fallen in the pool that lies upon the far edge of the
fearsome wood,--a pool so deep and of such whirling motion that only by
the fiercest struggle may one escape. Gladly he would have allowed the
waters to close over him, such cold pains smote his heart, had he not
seemed to hear the old minstrel's song. It aroused him to a final
effort, and he gasped between his teeth:
"''Tis the king's call! O list!
Thou heart and hand of mine, keep tryst--
Keep tryst or die!'
"With that, in one mighty struggle he dragged himself to land. A
bow-shot farther on he saw the cave, and by sheer force of will crept
toward it. What happened then he knew not till the moon rose full and
high above him. A form swathed all in black bowed over him.
"'Ederyn,' she sighed. 'Here is thy token that the king may know that
thou hast met me face to face.'
"He thought it was a diamond at first, that sparkled there beside the
star, but when he looked again, lo, nothing but a tear.
"Then went he back unto the joyous garden by slow degrees, for he was
now sore spent. And after that the summons came full often. Whenever all
the world seemed loveliest and life most sweet, then was the call most
sure to come. But never once he faltered. Never was he faithless to the
king's behest. Up weary mountain steps he toiled to find the sombre face
of Disappointment there in waiting, and Suffering and Pain were often at
his journey's end, and once a sore Defeat. But bravely as the months
went by he learned to smile into their eyes, no matter which one handed
out to him the pledge of Duty well performed.
"One day, when he no longer was a beardless youth, but grown to pleasing
stature and of great brawn, he heard the hoped-for call of which he long
had dreamed: 'Ederyn! Ederyn! The king himself awaits thee. Midsummer
morn at lark-song, keep tryst beside the palace gate.'
"As travellers on the desert, spent and worn, see far across the sand
the palm-tree's green that marks life-giving wells, so Ederyn hailed
this summons to the king. The soul-consuming thirst that long had urged
him on grew fiercer as the well of consummation came in sight. Hope shod
his feet with wings, as thus with every nerve a-strain he pushed toward
the final tryst. So fearful was he some mishap might snatch the cup away
ere it had touched his thirsty lips, that three full days before the
time he reached the Vale of Avalon, and sat him down outside the
entrance to the palace.
"Now there came prowling through the wood that edged the fair domain the
gnarled dwarfs that do the will of Shudderwain. And Shudderwain, of all
the giants thereabouts, most cruel was and to be feared. Knowing full
well what pleasure it would give the bloody monster, these dwarfs laid
evil hands on Ederyn. Sleeping they found him, and bound him with hard
leathern thongs, and then with gibes and impish laughter dragged him
into a dungeon past the help of man.
"Two days and nights he lay there, raging at fate and at his
helplessness, till he was well-nigh mad, bethinking him of all his
baffled hopes. And like a madman gnawed he on the leathern thongs till
he was free, and beat his hands against the stubborn rock that would not
yield, and threw himself against the walls that held him in.
"The dwarfs from time to time peered through the slatted window overhead
and mocked him, pointing with their crooked thumbs.
"'Ha! ha! Thou'lt keep no tryst,' they chattered. 'But if thou'lt swear
upon thy oath to go back to the joyous garden, and hark no more for
Merlin's call, we'll let thee loose from out this Dungeon of thy
Disappointment.'
"Then was Ederyn tempted, for the dungeon was foul indeed, and his heart
cried out to go back to the lily maiden. But once more in his ears he
thrust his fingers and cried:
"'To the king's call alone I'll list!
Oh, heart and hand of mine, keep tryst--
Keep tryst or die!'
"On the third night, with the quiet of despair he threw him prone upon
the dungeon floor and held his peace, no longer gnawing on his thongs or
beating on the rock. A single moonbeam straggled through the slatted
window, and by its light he saw a spider spinning out a web. Then,
looking dully around, he saw the dungeon was hung thick with other webs,
foul with the dust of years. Great festoons of the cobweb film shrouded
his prison walls. As up and down the hairy creature swung itself upon
its thread, the hopeless eyes of Ederyn followed it.
"All in a twinkling he saw how he might profit by the spider's teaching,
and clapped his hand across his mouth to keep from shouting out his joy,
so that the dwarfs could hear. Now once more like a madman rushing at
the walls, he tore down all the dusty webs, and twisted them together in
long strands. These strands he braided in thick ropes and tied them,
knotting them and twisting and doubling once again. All the while he
kept bewailing the stupid way in which he wasted time. 'Three days ago I
might have quit this den,' he sighed, 'had I but used the means that lay
at hand. Full well I knew that heaven always finds a way to help the man
who helps himself. No creature lives too mean to be of service, and
even dungeon walls must harbour help for him who boldly grasps the first
thing that he sees and makes it serve him.'
"So fast and furiously he worked that, long before the moonbeam faded,
his cobweb rope was strong enough to bear his weight, and long enough to
reach twice over to the slatted window overhead. By many trials he at
last succeeded in throwing it around a spike that barred the window,
and, climbing up, he forced the slats apart and clambered through. Then
tying the rope's end to the window, he slid down all the dizzy cliffside
in which the dwarfs had dug the dungeon, and dropped into the stream
that ran below.
"Lo, when he looked around him it was dawn. Midsummer morn it was, and,
plunging through the wood, he heard the lark's song rise, and reached
the palace gate just as it opened to the blare of trumpets for the
king's train to ride forth. When Ederyn saw the royal cavalcade, he
shrunk back into the wayside bushes, so ill-befitting did it seem that
he should come before the king in tattered garments, with blood upon his
hands where the sharp rocks had cut, and with foul dungeon stains.
"But that the king might know he'd ever proven faithful, he sank upon
his knees and bared his breast at his approach. There all the pledges
glistened in the sunlight, in rainbow hues. There Pain had dropped her
heart's blood in a glittering ruby, and Honour set her seal upon him in
a golden star. A diamond gleamed where Sorrow's tear had fallen, and
amethysts glowed now with purple splendour to mark his patient meeting
with Defeat. But mostly were the pledges little pearls for little duties
faithfully performed; and there they shone, and, as the people gazed,
they saw the jewels take the shape of letters, so that the king read out
before them all, '_Semper fidelis_.'
"Then drew the king his royal sword and lightly smote on Ederyn's
shoulder, and cried: 'Arise, Sir Knight, Sir Ederyn the Trusty. Since I
may trust thee to the utmost in little things as well as great, since
thou of all men art most worthy, henceforth by thy king's heart thou
shalt ride, ever to be his faithful guard and comrade.'
"So there before them all he did him honour, and ordered that a prancing
steed be brought and a good sword buckled on his side.
"Thus Ederyn won his sovereign's favour. Soon, by his sovereign's grace
permitted, he went back to the joyous garden to woo the lily maiden.
When he had won his bride and borne her to the palace, then was his
great reward complete for all his years of fealty to his vow. Then out
into the world he went to guard his king. Henceforth blazoned on his
shield and helmet he bore the crest--a heart with hand that grasped a
spear, and, underneath these words:
"_'I keep the tryst!'_"
Slipping the white ribbon back between the pages to mark the place, Miss
Chilton laid the little green and gold volume on the table, and smiled
at the circle of attentive faces.
"I am sure you understand why I have read this story," she said. "It is
the motto of the school. Tradition has it that Sir Ederyn was an ancient
member of Madam Chartley's family. At any rate, it has borne his crest
for many, many generations, and there could be no better motto for a
school. The world expects us to do certain things. We must keep tryst
with these expectations. You all know what happened yesterday. Madam
looks for a certain course of conduct from her girls. She does not make
rules. She only expects what the inborn instinct of a true lady would
prompt you to do or to be. I am sure that after this explanation none
of you will fail to keep tryst with her expectations."
That was the only public reference to Maud's escapade. She left the room
with a very red face when the class was dismissed. The little story put
her so plainly in the wrong before the other girls that it made her
cross and uncomfortable.
Every member of the class had five marks to her credit, and Betty was
the lucky one whose almost literal reproduction of the story gave her
ten. She copied it all down in her white record afterward, adding a
verse that she had once seen in an autograph album:
"Life is a rosary
Strung with the beads of little deeds,
Done humbly, Lord, as unto thee."
She repeated the verse aloud to Lloyd. "I'd like to make that kind of a
rosary. I'd like to act out that story. It just strikes my fancy. It
would be such a satisfaction to lay aside a token each night, as Ederyn
did, that I had kept tryst with duty,--had perfect lessons, or lived
through a day just as nearly right as I possibly could."
She went on writing after she had made the remark, but Lloyd, pleased by
the thought, sat staring at the lamp. It was nearly bedtime, and
presently, putting aside her book, she rose and crossed over to the
bureau. In a sandalwood box in the top drawer was a broken fan-chain of
white beads--tiny Roman pearls that she had bought in a shop in the Via
Crucia. She had intended to string them sometime, mixing with them here
and there some curious blue beads she had seen made at a glass-blower's
in Venice--large blue ones with tiny roses on the sides.
Betty, busy with her diary, did not notice how long Lloyd stood with her
back toward her, pouring the little Roman pearls from one hand to the
other.
"It seems almost babyish," Lloyd was saying to herself. "But othah girls
keep memory-books and such things, and this is such a pretty idea. No
one need know. Yes, I'll begin the rosary this very night, for every
lesson was perfect to-day, and I truly tried my best in everything."
Hesitating an instant longer, she rummaged through the drawer for a
piece of fine white silk cord which she remembered having placed there.
When she found it, she knotted one end securely, and then slowly slipped
one little pearl bead down against the knot.
"There!" she thought, with a hasty glance over her shoulder at Betty, as
she dropped the string back into its box. "There's one token that I've
kept tryst, even if I nevah earn any moah. I'm going to have that string
half-full by vacation."