Had he been chief warder of a beleaguered fort, Lord Fulmer could not
have examined every gate and sally port of the castle more carefully
than he did, when he descended from the walls. The figure which he had
beheld had evidently seemed to come from the castle; but how it had
issued forth he could not divine. Every postern was barred, bolted,
and chained; and the porter, and the porter's men were all snoring in
their dens, of which he had ocular proof before he retired. The fat
old porter, whom he had roused and informed of what he had seen,
treated the matter lightly, saying, half sleeping, half waking, it was
impossible: it must have been the moonlight on the bank, or a white
thorn coming into flower. But, when Fulmer reminded him that the month
of May was still far off, and told him he had seen the figure move for
some distance, he quietly replied--
"Then it must have been a spirit. There are plenty hereabout;" and,
lying down on his pallet again, he was asleep before the young
nobleman had quited the lodge.
Fulmer almost felt inclined to believe that the porter's last
supposition was correct, and that the music he had heard was a strain
of unearthly melody. Perhaps there have been few ages in the world's
history more grossly superstitious than those which immediately
preceded the reformation. The process of darkening the human mind, by
which alone the errors of the church of Rome can be maintained, had
been going on for so many centuries, that it had almost reached
completeness; and the art of printing, the precursor of Luther, had
not yet fulfilled its mission; and though here and there a few great
minds were to be found which shook off the garment of superstition
with which the papal church had liveried the world--though Wicliffe
and John Huss had given the first terrible blow to Rome, yet her
partizans laboured but the more strenuously to retain for her the
shadowy empire she had created. At this very time new saints were
made, and their days appointed to be honoured; and the festivals of
old saints were, in many instances, ordered to receive double
celebration. In England, especially, every false, abominable, and
idolatrous dogma was more sternly and clearly defined, in order to
prevent the escape of the Wicliffites through any ambiguity of
language. It was solemnly declared that not one particle of the
sacramental bread remained bread after consecration, that every drop
of the cup was blood. Pilgrimages, the worship of saints, the
adoration of the cross and of relics, were enjoined under the penalty
of fire; and everything that could lead or tend to superstition was
encouraged and upheld. Taught to believe so much of the supernatural
within the church, it is not wonderful that the great mass of the
people, high and low, should believe in much of the supernatural
beyond the church, and that the priest should encourage them in so
doing.
Nevertheless, Lord Fulmer was by no means one of the most
superstitious of his class. To doubt the occasional apparition of
spirits, or even devils, he would not have ventured; but to believe
that he had seen one was very different; and, not knowing what to
think, or what solution to give to the mystery, he retired to his
chamber, and lay down to rest. Sleep did not visit his eyes for some
hours; but still he rose early, roused his attendants in the
antechamber, and dressed for the day. He then gazed forth from the
window for a moment or two; but, as something passed before his eyes,
he turned round with a sudden start, and a flushed cheek, and went
out.
He passed quickly, through the courts, towards the walls; but, at the
foot of the steps, he paused and thought, for a moment or two, and
then mounted to the battlements with a slower step and more tranquil
air.
About fifty yards in advance was Chartley, the man he sought, walking
tranquilly towards him, with his arms folded on his chest, and his
eyes bent down in meditation. They were now alone together on the
walls; and Fulmer thought that there could be no better time for
saying what he proposed to say than that moment. His mood, however,
had varied from that of the night before; and, at first, he addressed
Lord Chartley courteously enough.
"Good morning, my lord," he said "Summer is coming on us with a
swallow's wing;" and he turned to walk back with his companion.
"It is indeed very warm," answered Chartley, mildly; "and the air here
seems temperate and fine."
There the conversation halted for a moment, for Lord Fulmer made no
answer, and walked on in silence, till they had nearly reached the
angle of the wall. There was a struggle going on within--a struggle
for calmness; for he felt agitation growing upon him.
At length, however, he said--
"I find, my lord, that you are well acquainted with the Lady Iola St.
Leger, and that you rendered her some service a little time ago."
"Service of no great importance," replied Chantey; "and which any
gentleman would render to any lady."
"You are, I suppose, aware that she is contracted to me as my future
wife," said Lord Fulmer, turning his eyes full upon Chartley's face.
"I was not aware of it at the time," answered Chartley, holding his
head very high. "I am now."
"That near connexion," continued Fulmer, "not only gives me a right,
but requires me, my good lord, to inquire into the nature of the
service that you rendered her, that I may"--he added with a sort of
sarcastic smile, "that I may proportion my thanks to its degree."
"I require no thanks," answered Chartley, coldly. "Of what is required
of you, my lord, I am no judge. Your right to make the inquiry, I am
not called upon to consider; and the lady herself will doubtless give
you what information she thinks fit upon the subject."
Fulmer strove to put down the wrath which was rising up in his bosom;
but yet there was a great degree of sharpness in his tone as he
replied--
"My right to make the inquiry, my good lord, you are called upon to
consider; for I make that inquiry of you."
"Then I refuse to answer it," replied Chartley. "If a gentleman have
rendered a lady service in any way, it is not his business to speak of
it. She may do so, if she thinks proper but his part is different."
"Then, my lord," replied Fulmer, "if you give me not account in one
way, you must in another;" and he set his teeth hard, as if to keep
down the more violent words which were ready to spring to his lips.
Chartley laughed.
"On my life," he said, "this is the strangest sort of gratitude which
it has been my lot to meet with in this wonderful world! Here is a man
comes to give me thanks, and then calls me to a rude account, because
I will not tell him why! What is the meaning of all this, my lord?
Your strange conduct certainly requires explanation--far more than any
part of mine, which has always been very open and simple."
"Oh, if you think it requires explanation," exclaimed Lord Fulmer,
readily, "I am quite ready to yield it, after the fashion that I
hinted."
"Is that a worthy answer, Lord Fulmer?" demanded Chartley. "You seem
determined to find cause of quarrel with me, and can meet with no more
reasonable pretext than that I once did some slight service to a lady
affianced to you."
"Exactly so," replied Lord Fulmer, dryly.
"Well, then," cried Chartley, tossing back his head, "I answer, I will
not quarrel with you on such ground. Charge me fairly--accuse me of
any wrong that I have done you, or any mortal man, or woman either,
and I will either clear myself or make reparation with my person at
the sword's point; but I will not bring a lady's name in question, by
quarrelling with any man on such a plea as this you bring. If you have
aught to say against me, say it boldly."
"Have you not already brought her name in question, by passing one
whole night with her in the woods of Atherston?" demanded Fulmer,
sternly. "Have you not made it a matter of light talk with lighter
tongues--"
"Stay, stay!" exclaimed Chartley, "I do not rightly understand you. Do
you mean to say that I ever have lightly used that lady's name--that I
have ever made it the subject of my conversation at all?"
"No," answered Fulmer, gravely. "That I cannot say; but I aver that
you have given occasion for its being talked of by others, in
remaining with her one whole night, as I have said, in the woods of
Atherston."
Chartley laughed again.
"He would have had me leave her to her fate, in the midst of the
wood!" he exclaimed; "or else have had her fall into the hands of
Catesby's rude soldiery, or the ruffian mercenaries of Sir John
Godscroft, who were, even at the moment I met her, daintily engaged in
burning down the buildings on the abbey green! By St. Peter, the man
seems to have a rare notion of courtesy towards a lady! Let me tell
you, Lord Fulmer, that had I left her, she must have encountered those
who would have treated her somewhat more roughly than I did. Stay,
stay, a moment. I have not yet done. You say that I have given
occasion for people to talk lightly of her. Give me the name of one
who has dared, even by a word, to couple her name to mine in aught
that is not pure--ay, even in a jest--and I will make him eat his
words or send him to the devil a day before his time."
Fulmer gazed down upon the ground in moody silence. "There may be
words," he said at length, "which, separate from the tone and manner,
imply but little, but which, eked out with nods and smiles and
twinklings of the eye, would go far to blast the fairest reputation.
In a word, Lord Chartley, I will not have it said, that the woman I
make my wife has passed the whole night alone, in a wild wood, with
any living man."
"Then do not make her your wife," answered Chartley. "That is easily
settled."
"There is another way of settling it," replied Lord Fulmer, bitterly,
"by cutting the throat of him who has done so with her."
"So, so, are you there?" answered Chartley, now made angry, in spite
of himself.
"If such be the case, my lord, I will not baulk you. I might refuse
your appeal, as a prisoner in ward. I might refuse it, as having no
reasonable grounds; but I will not do so; and satisfaction you shall
have of the kind you demand; for no earthly man shall say I feared
him. But this, my good lord, is not without a condition. It shall be
fully and entirely known, how and why you have forced me to this--what
is the quarrel you have fixed upon me--and why I have consented. All
this shall be clearly stated and proclaimed, for my own character's
sake. This I have a right to demand."
"But the lady's fair name!" exclaimed Fulmer, alarmed at the
condition.
"Who is it that blackens it?" demanded Chartley, fiercely. "Not I, but
you, Lord Fulmer. I proclaim her pure, and good, and true, to you, to
me, and all men; and you, if any one, shall stand forth as her
calumniator, in forcing this unjust quarrel upon me. I cast the
responsibility upon you; and now I leave you."
"Stay, sir, stay," exclaimed Fulmer, driven almost to fury. "You have
called me calumniator; and you shall answer for that word, or I will
brand you as a coward in every court of Europe."
"Methinks you would get but few to believe you," replied Chartley,
proudly; "but let me tell you, if you dare venture to use that term to
me, before any competent witnesses, I will punish you on the spot as
you deserve. You think, my lord, by taking me here in private, to
gratify your malice while you conceal your own weakness, and to leave,
perhaps, the blame upon me; but you are mistaken, if you think you
have to do with a feeble-minded and passionate boy like yourself."
Fulmer lost all command over himself; and drawing his sword at once,
though close before the castle windows, he exclaimed, "Draw! I will
bear no more."
But Chartley was comparatively cool, while his adversary was blind
with passion; and, springing upon him with a bound, he put aside the
raised point with his hand, and wrenched the sword from his grasp,
receiving a slight wound in doing so. Then, holding his adversary in a
firm grasp, he cast the weapon from him over the castle wall.
"For shame," he said, after a moment's pause, "for shame, Lord Fulmer
Go back, sir, to the castle; and, if you have those honourable
feelings, those somewhat fantastic and imaginative notions, which I
have heard attributed to you, think over your own conduct this
morning--ay, think over the doubts and suspicions, unjust, and base,
and false as they are, in which such conduct has arisen, and feel
shame for both. I am not apt to be a vain man; but when I scan my own
behaviour in the events which have given rise to all this rancour on
your part, and compare it with your conduct now, I feel there is an
immeasurable distance between us; and I regret, for that sweet lady's
sake, that she is bound by such ties to such a man."
"You have the advantage, my lord, you have the advantage," repeated
Fulmer, doggedly. "The time may come when it will be on my part."
"I think not," answered Chartley, with one of his light laughs; "for
we are told God defends the right, and I will never do you wrong."
Thus saying, he turned upon his heel, descended the steps, and walked
back into the castle.
Fulmer followed with a slow and sullen step, his eyes bent down upon
the ground, and his lips, from time to time, moving. He felt all that
had occurred the more bitterly, as he was conscious that it was his
own fault. He might feel angry with Chartley; his pride might be
bitterly mortified; he might have every inclination to cast the blame
upon others; but there was one fact he could not get over, one truth,
which, at the very first, carried self-censure home. He had violated
all his own resolutions; he had given way to passion, when he had
resolved to be calm and cool; and this conviction, perhaps, led him
some steps on the path of regret for his whole conduct. At all events,
passing through his ante-room without speaking to any of his servants,
he entered his own chamber, and cast himself down upon a seat, to
scrutinize the acts he had committed.