The search was over. It had proved, as I have said, vain; and Lord
Calverly was in a state of bewildered confusion of mind, which it was
impossible to describe. Obey the king's commands by placing Iola once
more in the abbey of St. Clare of Atherston, he could not do. To
explain to Richard the cause of his disobedience was only to accuse
himself of a worse fault of the same kind. To frame any excuse, real
or false, for his conduct, he knew not how; and his whole anxiety
seemed to be to pursue and overtake the fugitive, wherever she might
have taken refuge. Several of the servants were examined, in order to
obtain some clue to the course which she had followed; but no one
could afford any. Her waiting-woman, Susan, was as much grieved,
distressed, and anxious as the rest. The porter declared that he had
closed every postern before he was shut into his lodging by Sir
William Arden; and, at first, the old lord was inclined to suppose
that Iola had taken advantage of the keys having been left in the
door, to make her escape, while Arden was remonstrating with him in
the hall. But, on the one hand, the porter declared that the keys had
never been removed from the place where Arden had left them till they
were taken to give admission to the king's messenger; and the man who
had been shut up with him confirmed the story. They had both watched
anxiously, they said, and must have heard the sound of the keys being
withdrawn, had such a thing occurred. Sir William's attendant, too,
who had given admission to the royal courier, stated that he had found
the gates both locked and barred. The girl, Susan, too, showed that
she had remained in her mistress's antechamber for nearly three
quarters of an hour immediately before she was missed; and every
servant stated positively that they had neither seen the lady, nor any
figure, which could have been hers disguised, attempt to pass out of
the castle.
"Nothing can, at all events, be done till morning," said Sir William
Arden, "and therefore, my good lord, I will wish you good night. Let
us take counsel with our pillows."
His suggestion was followed, Chartley accompanying his friend with
less anxiety apparent on his countenance than the occasion might
perhaps have justified. Before Arden went, he contrived to say a few
words to Constance, unheard by the rest; but Constance shook her head,
replying, "I know nought, indeed, and can give no information; but yet
I am inclined to believe that dear Iola is in no danger, wherever she
is. She used to roam far and wide, where I should have been afraid to
venture; and I feel sure she is safe." Then dropping her voice quite
to a whisper, she added, "Pray, tell Lord Chartley so."
A few minutes after, Chartley and his friend sat together in the
chamber of the former; and Arden eyed him with an enquiring and yet a
smiling glance.
"Know you aught of this escapade, Signor Chartley?" he said, at
length. "Methinks you seem not so heart-wrung and fear-stricken as
might have been expected, at the unaccountable disappearance of your
lady love."
"Nevertheless, I am anxious," replied Chartley, "for I know not where
she is, nor what has become of her, any more than the rest. But, at
the same time, I have this consolation, that I believe her escape must
have been planned, in case of need, long before; for she boasted to me
that she could pass through the walls of this castle like a spirit. I
therefore argue, that we have every reason to think her safe; and, to
tell the truth, I should not much regret her having put herself beyond
the power of her excellent wise uncle, were I not here in ward, and
unable to do as I could wish."
"What would you do, if you were out of the old earl's clutches?"
demanded Arden, with a smile.
"I would set off by day-break to seek her--" replied Chartley, "by
day-break to-morrow morning."
"And having found her?" asked Arden.
Chartley smiled, and looked thoughtfully down on the table, for a
moment or two, answering at length, "Don't you think, Arden, that if
one going a journey found a peculiarly beautiful flower growing near
his path, he would be inclined to gather it at once, not waiting till
he came back again, lest it should be withered or plucked in the mean
time. One would not mind a few scratches either, to get at it."
"Come, come, no metaphors," said Arden. "You know, I am dull as to all
fanciful things, my good lord, so tell me plainly what you would do."
"Well, then," answered Chartley, "if I found her, as you suppose, I
should be strangely tempted to ask her to get upon the back of an
ambling mule or light-footed Barbary jennet, and make a pilgrimage
with me to some shrines of great repute in Britanny or France."
"Hymen's for one of them, I suppose," said Arden, laughing; "ah,
Chartley, you are but a pagan after all. But you forget such things
might be dangerous. When you came back, your head would be in a
tottering condition, or, at the best, your dearly beloved liberty of
roaming might be confined within the four walls of a small room."
"I might stay away, till heads were more sure upon men's shoulders,
and liberties were not the sport of a tyrant's caprice," replied
Chartley, more gravely than was his wont. "This state of things cannot
last for ever, Arden. The world is getting sick of it. There are
strange rumours abroad. Our poor queen Ann is ill; and men much
suspect she will not recover. Few indeed do under the treatment she is
likely to have; and Richard, they say, is very anxious for heirs."
"So, so," cried Arden, "sets the wind there? Why, methought a Chartley
would never draw his sword against the house of York."
"Assuredly," replied Chartley, "so long as the lawful heirs of that
house sat upon the throne. But there is such a thing, Arden, as two
streams mingling--such a thing as two factions, long rivals arrayed in
bloody opposition, finding a bond of fellowship, and uniting to
overthrow one who has wronged and slaughtered both.
"I have heard something of this," said Arden, thoughtfully. "The
rightful heir of York is Elizabeth of York; and, were such a thing
possible, that Harry of Richmond should graft the red rose on the
white rose stem, there is many a man beside yourself who would gladly
couch a lance in his support."
Chartley gazed at him for a moment thoughtfully, and then answered.
"He has sworn it, Arden, in the cathedral church of Rennes. I know I
can trust you; and I tell you he has sworn it. The queen Elizabeth,
too, consents, I am informed; and men but wait for the propitious
hour."
"You have heard from Richmond!" said Arden, bluffly. "Your Arab
brought you letters from the earl."
"No," answered Chartley; "but I have heard from Oxford. He is already
in arms in Picardy; and Calais had better close fast her gates."
"Well, well," said Arden. "Love and war, 'tis strange how well these
two dissimilar dogs hunt in couples. We were talking of love just now,
and lo, she runs straight up to the side of war. So, if you were free,
you would ride off with this sweet pretty Iola, and wait for better
times, tending hens and sowing turnips round a cottage door. Upon my
life, I see no reason why you should not, even as the matter is."
"But I am in ward," said Chartley. "My pledge has been given to this
good old Lord Calverly."
"That is all at an end," replied Arden, with a smile, drawing some
papers from his pocket. "I have kept you all this time in ignorance,
to win your secrets from you. But now know, my lord, that you are in
ward to me, and not Lord Calverly. Here is the king's letter to me,
and there is one from his gentle grace for you, probably announcing
the same thing. The truth is, I fancy, this rash Lord Fulmer has let
Richard into too many secrets; and the king is determined to keep his
hold of the young lover, by delaying his marriage, while he at the
same time separates you from her, to ensure that she is not won by a
rival. How he happened to fix upon me as your jailer is a marvel."
While he had thus spoke, Chartley had opened the king's letter, and
was reading it eagerly.
"Wrong, Arden, wrong!" he exclaimed, with a joyous look, "wrong, and
yet right in some things--read, read!"
Arden took the letter and ran over the contents with that sort of
rapid humming tone which renders some words distinct, while others are
slurred over. Every now and then he added a comment in his own
peculiar way, not always in the most polite or reverent language; for
those were not times of great refinement, and right names were often
applied to things which we now veil both in word and seeming.
"'To our trusty and well beloved'--well, well--so he wrote to
Buckingham--'our intentions towards you were more gentle than the need
of example required to be apparent'--doubtless, his intentions are
always gentle; but his needs are numerous--'somewhat exceeded in
strictness the spirit of our injunctions'--Poor Lord Calverly, mighty
strict indeed when he lets his house be mastered by a prisoner and a
handful of guests!--'transferred you therefore in ward to your cousin,
Sir William Arden, who will better comprehend our intentions. Nor do
we purpose here to shut up our benevolence towards you, but to enlarge
it according to your merits and services, even in that which you most
desire'--What does the hypocrite mean? He will have your head off ere
he has done--'In the mean time, as you incurred displeasure by
rashness, so win fair fortune and your heart's content by prudence;
for having learned your wishes from a rival and an enemy, we give you
an earnest of our good will, in disappointing his desires, with the
thought of gratifying yours, according to your deserving, in good
season. So, commending you to the protection of God, the Blessed
Virgin, and St. Paul'--what a number of them!--'we bid you, et
cetera.'"
Arden laid down the letter, and fell into deep thought. Chartley spoke
to him, but he did not seem to hear. Chartley gazed at him, and
laughed in the joyous hopefulness of youth; but Arden took no notice.
Chartley shook him by the arm; but his cousin merely said in a sharp
tone--
"Let me think, idle boy!--Let me think. Would you be chained to the
collar of a boar, to be dragged with him, wallowing through the blood
of the dogs, which will soon be let loose to hunt him to the death?"
"I know not what you mean," exclaimed the young nobleman; "have you
gone mad, Arden?"
"It is you who are mad, if you see not the object of this letter,"
replied Arden. "Hope to you--suspense to Fulmer--both for the same
purpose. To keep you his. He holds out a prize to the eyes of both, to
be won by a race of services and submissions to himself. Will you
enter upon this course, Chartley? Will you, even for the hand of Iola,
become the labouring straining serf of him who slew your royal
master's children, slaughtered innocent babes, spilt the blood of his
own house? See through his artful policy--shut not your eyes to his
purpose--calculate the price you must pay for his support of your
suit--judge accurately whether, when all is done, the hypocrite will
keep the spirit of his promise; and then choose your path."
"I saw it not in that light," replied Chartley, at once brought down
to a graver mood, "and yet it may be as you say."
"May be? It is!" replied Arden, "by St. Peter, that dear little girl
was right and wise, to fly away and not be made a decoy to lead the
game into his net! She knew it not indeed; but that matters not. 'Tis
well that she is gone. Her foolish uncle must be sent to court, to
confess his sins and excuse them as he may. It is the best course for
him, the best result for us. Time--it is time we want."
"But I want something more, Arden," said. Chartley. "I want
liberty--freedom to act as I will. Then my course is soon decided. By
Heaven, I have a thousand minds to rise upon my ward master, bind him,
and carry him with me--whither he would be right willing to go, _under
compulsion_."
"No, Chartley, no!" answered Arden. "I will not put a colouring upon
my actions that they merit not. I will not seem to do by force that
which I am afraid to do with good will and openly."
"Then what will you do? How will you act?" demanded Chartley, somewhat
puzzled.
"'Tis a case of difficulty," replied Arden, musing. "I must not accept
a charge and then violate a trust; I must not shelter a breach of
faith under an equivocation."
"But if you refuse to ward me," answered Chartley, "'Tis certain I
shall be placed in stricter hands."
"I will not refuse," replied his cousin. "I know this king, and I will
accept the ward for a time; but I will write to him and tell him, that
it shall be for but one month, as I could never manage you long in my
life--which Heaven knows is true enough. If it last longer I renounce
it. I know well how it will be. If he sees you tranquil and quiet, he
may perhaps let you have full liberty then, thinking that he has power
over you by the hope of this fair lady's hand. If not, he will write
to me at the month's end, to keep you still in ward, which I will not
do for an hour. Meanwhile, we shall have time for all preparations, to
find the lady, and seek both the means of flight and means of living
afar. Then, have with you, Chartley, and good fortune speed us both!"
This arrangement was not altogether pleasing to his more ardent and
impatient companion.
"But hark you, Arden," he said, "long ere the time you speak of,
things may have occurred which will require instant decision.
Everything is hurrying here to a close; and, before a month be over,
much may take place which will render it necessary to act at once."
"I do not think it," answered Arden, deliberately. "The march of great
events is generally slow. Sometimes, indeed, it happens that an
earthquake comes and shatters all; but more frequently the changes of
the world are like the changes of the year, spring, summer, autumn,
winter; cloud, sunshine, wind, rain, thunderstorm, sunshine once more,
and then the same course round."
"But I tell you, Arden, Oxford is already in arms," replied Chartley,
"and marching towards Calais, to take it from the usurper, that
Richmond is promised aid from France, and that troops are already
gathering at Rouen."
"Rain drops before the storm," answered Arden; "but, before you can do
aught, you must find your sweet lady Iola, gain her consent to your
plans, make all your preparations for escape; and this will all take
some time, let me tell you."
"What if we find her speedily," said Chartley, "and see, moreover,
that she is likely to fall into the king's hands, and to be held out,
as you yourself have said, as a prize to the most serviceable."
"Good faith, then you must act as you think fit," said Arden. "I shall
guard you, and your seven or eight servants, with myself and my own
three. Richard cannot expect that I should augment my household to
pleasure him, in a matter that he puts upon me without my wish. Should
need be, you must lay your own plans and execute them. Only let me not
know them, at least, till the month is over. But methinks, my good
lord and cousin, your impatience somewhat miscalculates the future. A
month is a short time for all I have mentioned."
"Ay, but I go fast," answered Chartley. "To-morrow we will away to
seek this fair lady, and never give the search up till we have found
her. You despatch this old lord as fast as may be to York; for, if he
should stay and find her out, we might have strife or difficulty."
"See how he takes the tone of command already," exclaimed Arden,
laughing; "but do you know, Signor Chartley, that I have a strange
hankering for this great castle of Chidlow, and do not love to leave
it yet. There are others to be served as well as you."
"How so?" demanded Chartley, in surprise; "why should you wish to stay
at Chidlow?"
"Because there is a little maiden there, with sweet soft eyes,"
replied Arden, "who though, God wot, somewhat given to pensive mood,
smiles brightly when I talk to her; and methinks it will not be very
easy to tear myself away."
"What, Constance?" exclaimed Chartley. "You, Arden, you! You thinking
of love and matrimony! Why, I have given you over to dull celibacy for
the last ten years. You were wont to think no eyes so bright as a
spear's point, to feel no love for aught but a suit of Milan steel, to
warm to the sound of cannon sooner than the lute, and to think the
blast of the trumpet sweeter than any lady's tongue. Now, farewell to
all hopes of your inheritance! Lack-a-day, what a splendid fortune I
have missed by not watching you more closely! and we shall soon have
half a score of little Ardens, with round curly heads, playing with
your rusty greaves, and calling you Papa."
"Go on. I am laughter proof," answered Arden. "Let him laugh who wins.
Of one thing, at least, I am certain, if she gives me her hand, 'tis
with free will and all her heart. No ambition in a case where the
bridegroom is a simple knight, no ambition where she does not know him
to possess a single angel in the world, except herself. But tell me,
Chartley, where have been your eyes?"
"Looking into Iola's, I fancy," answered Chartley. "'Tis true, I saw
you sit and talk with her upon the battlements the other day, and
heard you laugh, and saw you smile; but I thought, good sooth, 'twas
mere good-nature that kept you lingering behind with Constance, in
order that Iola and I might have free leave to pour forth our hearts
to each other."
"No, no," answered Arden. "I am very good-natured and generous, I
know; but in this instance, like the rest of the world, I was
good-natured--with an object. 'Tis true," he continued, in a graver
tone, "there is a great difference between her age and mine--some four
and twenty years, and I shall wither while she will still bloom.
Perhaps you think her too young, Chartley, to be taken as my wife; but
I am not yet old enough to adopt her as my daughter; and one or the
other she shall be, if she will; for I will not leave that dear girl
to the sad choice of vowing herself to a convent, or remaining
dependent upon her foolish uncle's bounty."
Chartley laid his hand affectionately upon his cousin's, saying, "Far
from thinking her too young to be your wife, Arden--far from thinking
you should not make her such, I believe and trust that you will find
happiness with her, such as you have never known before. I have seen
the honeysuckle in the woods, twining itself sweetly round the trees.
It chooses generally a stout and sturdy trunk, of mature growth, and
there it winds itself up, loading the strong branches with its
nectar-dropping blossoms. Sometimes, however, I have seen it climb up
a light sapling, till they mingled leaves and flowers together, in one
heavy mass; but then, there being no steadiness in either, they have
been blown to and fro with every wind, till a fiercer blast of the
tempest has broken or rooted up the frail prop; and the honeysuckle
has been laid low with that it clung to."
"Well, I have no cause to make the objection if she do not," answered
Arden. "She has wound herself round my heart, I know not how; but I
have concealed nothing from her: She knows my birth-day as well as I
do myself; and she says she does not care a groat"--Chartley
smiled--"no, not exactly a groat," continued Arden, "but what she
said, was this, that when one loved any body, the heart never stopped
to ask whether he was rich or poor, old or young; that where
calculation entered, love was not. Upon my life, I believe what she
said is true; for I know I began to make love to her without any
calculation at all, and not much thinking of what I was about. Is that
the usual way, Chartley?"
"Precisely!" answered his cousin.
"Well, then, let us go to bed," said Arden; "for I shall rouse this
old lord by cock-crow, and send him off, as soon as I can, to York."