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diff --git a/37481-h/37481-h.htm b/37481-h/37481-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..fa65f71 --- /dev/null +++ b/37481-h/37481-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,11901 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" +"http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml"> + <head> + <meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=utf-8" /> + <title> + The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Tangled Skein, by the Baroness Orczy. + </title> + <style type="text/css"> + p { margin-top: .75em; + margin-bottom: .75em; + } + h1,h2,h3,h4,h5,h6 { + text-align: center; /* all headings centered */ + clear: both; + } + hr.wide { width: 65%; margin-top: 2em; margin-bottom: 2em; + margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; clear: both;} + hr.thin { width: 45%; margin-top: 1.25em; margin-bottom: 1.25em; + margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; clear: both;} + + table {margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;} + + body{margin-left: 10%; + margin-right: 10%; + } + + .pagenum { /* uncomment the next line for invisible page numbers */ + /* visibility: hidden; */ + position: absolute; + left: 92%; + font-size: smaller; + text-align: right; + } /* page numbers */ + + .linenum {position: absolute; top: auto; left: 4%;} /* poetry number */ + .blockquot{margin-left: 5%; margin-right: 10%;} + .center {text-align: center; margin-left: 15%; margin-right: 15%;} + .smcap {font-variant: small-caps;} + .lowercase {text-transform: lowercase;} + .u {text-decoration: underline;} + .ital {font-style: italic;} + .bigtext {font-size: 120%;} + .smalltext {font-size: 80%;} + .caption {font-size: 90%; text-align: center; + margin-left: 15%; margin-right: 15%;} + .theend {text-align: center; margin-top: 4em; margin-bottom: 2em;} + .chapnum {text-align: right; vertical-align: top;} + .chapname {text-align: left; font-variant: small-caps; + padding-left: 1em; padding-right: 3em; vertical-align: top;} + .chappage {text-align: right; vertical-align: top;} + .bookpart {text-align: center; padding-top: 1.25em; padding-bottom: 0.5em; + font-size: 110%;} + .signature {text-align: right; font-variant: small-caps; margin-left: 2em;} + .newchapter {margin-top: 4em; margin-bottom: 2em;} + + .figcenter {margin: auto; text-align: center;} + + .figleft {float: left; clear: left; margin-left: 0; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-top: + 1em; margin-right: 1em; padding: 0; text-align: center;} + + .figright {float: right; clear: right; margin-left: 1em; margin-bottom: 1em; + margin-top: 1em; margin-right: 0; padding: 0; text-align: center;} + + .footnotes {border: dashed 1px;} + .footnote {margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-size: 0.9em;} + .footnote .label {position: absolute; right: 84%; text-align: right;} + .fnanchor {vertical-align: super; font-size: .8em; text-decoration: none;} + + .poem {margin-left:10%; margin-right:10%; text-align: left;} + .poem br {display: none;} + .poem .stanza {margin: 1em 0em 1em 0em;} + .poem span.i0q {display: block; margin-left: 0em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} + .poem span.i0 {display: block; margin-left: 0.4em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} + .poem span.i2 {display: block; margin-left: 2.4em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} + .poem span.i4 {display: block; margin-left: 4.4em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} + </style> + </head> +<body> + + +<pre> + +Project Gutenberg's The Tangled Skein, by Emmuska Orczy, Baroness Orczy + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Tangled Skein + +Author: Emmuska Orczy, Baroness Orczy + +Release Date: September 20, 2011 [EBook #37481] +Last Updated: April 27, 2018 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE TANGLED SKEIN *** + + + + +Produced by Steven desJardins and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This book was +produced from scanned images of public domain material +from the Google Print project.) + + + + + + +</pre> + + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 317px;"> +<img src="images/front.jpg" width="317" height="500" alt="Did she guess what a dainty picture she made?—Page 100" title="" /> +</div> +<p class="caption">Did she guess what a dainty picture she made?—<a href="#dainty">Page 100</a></p> + +<hr class="wide" /> + + +<h1>THE TANGLED SKEIN</h1> + + +<hr class="thin" /> + +<p class="center">By the Same Author</p> + +<p class="center">I WILL REPAY<br /> +THE SCARLET PIMPERNEL<br /> +BY THE GODS BELOVED<br /> +THE EMPEROR'S CANDLESTICKS<br /> +A SON OF THE PEOPLE</p> + +<hr class="thin" /> + +<h2><a name="THE_TANGLED_SKEIN" id="THE_TANGLED_SKEIN"></a>THE TANGLED SKEIN</h2> + + +<p class="center">BY<br /> +<span class="bigtext">THE BARONESS ORCZY</span></p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 200px;"> +<img src="images/logo.png" width="200" height="213" alt="publisher's logo" title="" /> +</div> + +<p class="center smalltext">LONDON<br /> +GREENING & CO., <span class="smcap">Ltd.</span><br /> +1907<br /> +<i>All rights reserved</i></p> + +<hr class="wide" /> + +<p class="center bigtext">DEDICATION</p> + +<p class="center">TO MY LITTLE SON JACK<br /> +<span class="smalltext">AND</span><br /> +TO HIS SCHOOLMATES AT "RAMSBURY"<br /> +BIRCHINGTON-ON-SEA</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p class="smcap">Dear Boys,</p> + +<p>It was amongst you all that I wrote the last chapters +of this romance. To you, therefore—to your growing +manhood, your pretty, budding thoughts of chivalry and +honour, which I so loved to see developing in the +tender atmosphere of your dear little school-home by +the sea—I inscribe and dedicate this record of a +noble and good man's life.</p> + +<p class="signature">Emmuska Orczy.</p> + +<p style="padding-left: 1.5em; text-indent: -1.5em;"><span class="smcap">Birchington-on-Sea</span><br /> +<i>February, 1907</i></p></div> + +<hr class="wide" /> + +<p class="center"><i>Copyright<br /> +in<br /> +The United Kingdom,<br /> +in the<br /> +Dominion of Canada,<br /> +and in the<br /> +United States of America.</i></p> + +<hr class="wide" /> + +<h2><a name="CONTENTS" id="CONTENTS"></a>CONTENTS</h2> +<table class="figcenter" border="0" cellspacing="0" cellpadding="0" summary="Table of Contents"> +<tr> +<td colspan="3" class="bookpart">PART I<br />MIRRAB—THE WITCH</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="chapnum smalltext">CHAP.</td> +<td class="chapname smalltext"> </td> +<td class="chappage smalltext">PAGE</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="chapnum">I.</td> +<td class="chapname">East Molesey Fair</td> +<td class="chappage"><a href="#CHAPTER_I">11</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="chapnum">II.</td> +<td class="chapname">The Witch's Tent</td> +<td class="chappage"><a href="#CHAPTER_II">17</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="chapnum">III.</td> +<td class="chapname">Mischief Brewing</td> +<td class="chappage"><a href="#CHAPTER_III">23</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="chapnum">IV.</td> +<td class="chapname">Friends and Enemies</td> +<td class="chappage"><a href="#CHAPTER_IV">28</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="chapnum">V.</td> +<td class="chapname">Ladies and Gallants</td> +<td class="chappage"><a href="#CHAPTER_V">33</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="chapnum">VI.</td> +<td class="chapname">The Lady Ursula</td> +<td class="chappage"><a href="#CHAPTER_VI">41</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="chapnum">VII.</td> +<td class="chapname">His Grace of Wessex</td> +<td class="chappage"><a href="#CHAPTER_VII">46</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="chapnum">VIII.</td> +<td class="chapname">Silken Bonds</td> +<td class="chappage"><a href="#CHAPTER_VIII">52</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="chapnum">IX.</td> +<td class="chapname">The Veiled Witch</td> +<td class="chappage"><a href="#CHAPTER_IX">59</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="3" class="bookpart">PART II<br />THE LADY URSULA</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="chapnum">X.</td> +<td class="chapname">A Bevy of Fair Maidens</td> +<td class="chappage"><a href="#CHAPTER_X">73</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="chapnum">XI.</td> +<td class="chapname">The Fairest of Them All</td> +<td class="chappage"><a href="#CHAPTER_XI">80</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="chapnum">XII.</td> +<td class="chapname">Intrigues</td> +<td class="chappage"><a href="#CHAPTER_XII">88</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="chapnum">XIII.</td> +<td class="chapname">His Eminence</td> +<td class="chappage"><a href="#CHAPTER_XIII">93</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="chapnum">XIV.</td> +<td class="chapname">The Destinies of Europe</td> +<td class="chappage"><a href="#CHAPTER_XIV">99</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="chapnum">XV.</td> +<td class="chapname">The Hand of Fate</td> +<td class="chappage"><a href="#CHAPTER_XV">103</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="chapnum">XVI.</td> +<td class="chapname">The Ultimatum</td> +<td class="chappage"><a href="#CHAPTER_XVI">114</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="chapnum">XVII.</td> +<td class="chapname">An Armed Truce</td> +<td class="chappage"><a href="#CHAPTER_XVII">120</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="chapnum">XVIII.</td> +<td class="chapname">The Veiled Witch</td> +<td class="chappage"><a href="#CHAPTER_XVIII">127</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="3" class="bookpart">PART III<br />A GAME OF CHESS</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="chapnum">XIX.</td> +<td class="chapname">The Pawns</td> +<td class="chappage"><a href="#CHAPTER_XIX">139</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="chapnum">XX.</td> +<td class="chapname">Departure</td> +<td class="chappage"><a href="#CHAPTER_XX">153</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="chapnum">XXI.</td> +<td class="chapname">The Black Knight</td> +<td class="chappage"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXI">159</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="chapnum">XXII.</td> +<td class="chapname">The White Queen</td> +<td class="chappage"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXII">168</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="chapnum">XXIII.</td> +<td class="chapname">Check to the Queen</td> +<td class="chappage"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXIII">177</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="chapnum">XXIV.</td> +<td class="chapname">Check to the King</td> +<td class="chappage"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXIV">187</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="chapnum">XXV.</td> +<td class="chapname">The Cardinal's Move</td> +<td class="chappage"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXV">192</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="chapnum">XXVI.</td> +<td class="chapname">The Provocation</td> +<td class="chappage"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXVI">198</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="chapnum">XXVII.</td> +<td class="chapname">The Fight</td> +<td class="chappage"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXVII">204</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="chapnum">XXVIII.</td> +<td class="chapname">The Sequel of the Comedy</td> +<td class="chappage"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXVIII">210</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="chapnum">XXIX.</td> +<td class="chapname">Check-Mate</td> +<td class="chappage"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXIX">217</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="3" class="bookpart">PART IV<br />HIS GRACE OF WESSEX</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="chapnum">XXX.</td> +<td class="chapname">Thoughts</td> +<td class="chappage"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXX">225</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="chapnum">XXXI.</td> +<td class="chapname">Marye, the Queene</td> +<td class="chappage"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXXI">229</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="chapnum">XXXII.</td> +<td class="chapname">A Bargain</td> +<td class="chappage"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXXII">243</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="chapnum">XXXIII.</td> +<td class="chapname">In the Lord Chancellor's Court</td> +<td class="chappage"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXXIII">252</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="chapnum">XXXIV.</td> +<td class="chapname">Westminster Hall</td> +<td class="chappage"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXXIV">269</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="chapnum">XXXV.</td> +<td class="chapname">The Trial</td> +<td class="chappage"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXXV">279</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="chapnum">XXXVI.</td> +<td class="chapname">Afterwards</td> +<td class="chappage"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXXVI">294</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="chapnum">XXXVII.</td> +<td class="chapname">The Cardinal's Puppets</td> +<td class="chappage"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXXVII">300</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="chapnum">XXXVIII.</td> +<td class="chapname">The Last Farewell</td> +<td class="chappage"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXXVIII">306</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="chapnum">XXXIX.</td> +<td class="chapname">A Forlorn Hope</td> +<td class="chappage"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXXIX">314</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="chapnum">XL.</td> +<td class="chapname">Poor Mirrab</td> +<td class="chappage"><a href="#CHAPTER_XL">318</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="chapnum">XLI.</td> +<td class="chapname">The End</td> +<td class="chappage"><a href="#CHAPTER_XLI">331</a></td> +</tr> +</table> + +<hr class="wide" /> + +<h1 class="newchapter"><a name="THE_TANGLED_SKEIN_START" id="THE_TANGLED_SKEIN_START"></a>THE TANGLED SKEIN</h1> + +<h2><a name="PART_I" id="PART_I"></a>PART I<br /> +<span class="smalltext">MIRRAB—THE WITCH</span></h2> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_11" id="Page_11">[Pg 11]</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_I" id="CHAPTER_I"></a>CHAPTER I<br /> +<span class="smalltext">EAST MOLESEY FAIR</span></h2> + + +<p>Even Noailles, in his letters to his royal master, admits that the +weather was glorious, and that the climatic conditions left nothing to +be desired.</p> + +<p>Even Noailles! Noailles, who detested England as the land of humid +atmospheres and ill-dressed women!</p> + +<p>Renard, who was more of a diplomatist and kept his opinions on the fogs +and wenches of Old England very much to himself, declared +enthusiastically in his letter to the Emperor Charles V, dated October +2nd, 1553, that never had he seen the sky so blue, the sun so bright, +nor the people of this barbarous island more merry than on the memorable +first day of East Molesey Fair: as all who will, may read for themselves +in Vol. III of the Granvelle Papers:—</p> + +<p>"<i>Aulcungs ne pourroient contempler ciel plus bleu soleil plus +brillianct ni peuple plus joieult.</i>"</p> + +<p>Yet what have we to do with the opinions of these noble ambassadors of +great and mighty foreign monarchs?</p> + +<p>Our own chroniclers tell us that East Molesey Fair was the maddest, +merriest, happiest time the goodly folk of the Thames Valley had had +within memory of the oldest inhabitant.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_12" id="Page_12">[Pg 12]</a></span>Was not good Queene Marye, beloved daughter of the great King Henry +VIII, crowned at last? crowned in Westminster Abbey, as all her loyal +subjects had desired that she should be, despite His Grace of +Northumberland and his treasonable faction, whom God and the Queene's +most lawful Majesty would punish all in good time?</p> + +<p>In the meanwhile let us be joyful and make merry!</p> + +<p>Such a motley crowd as never was seen. Here's a sheriff from London +City, pompous and dignified in dark doublet and hose, with scarlet +mantle and velvet cap; beside him his lady trips right merrily, her +damask kirtle held well above her high-heeled shoes, her flowered +paniers looped in the latest style, with just the suggestion of a +farthingale beneath her robes, to give dignity to her figure and value +to the slimness of her waist.</p> + +<p>Here a couple of solemn burgesses in velvet cloaks edged with fur, and +richly slashed doublets, are discussing the latest political events; +whilst a group of Hampton merchants, more soberly clad, appraise the +wares of a cutler lately hailed from Spain.</p> + +<p>Then the dames and maidens with puffed paniers of blue or vivid scarlet, +moving swiftly from booth to booth, babbling like so many gaily-plumaged +birds, squabbling with the vendors and chaffing the criers.</p> + +<p>Here and there the gaudy uniform of one of the liveried Companies will +attract the eye, anon the dark cloak and close black mask which +obviously hides the Court gallant.</p> + +<p>Men of all ranks and of all stations have come out to East Molesey +to-day. Merchants, shopkeepers, workers, aldermen and servants, all with +their womenkind, all with pouches more or less well filled, for who +would go to Molesey Fair but to spend money, to drink, to eat, or to +make merry?</p> + +<p>Then there were the 'prentices!</p> + +<p>They had no money to spend, save a copper or so to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_13" id="Page_13">[Pg 13]</a></span> throw to a +mountebank, but nevertheless they contrived to enjoy themselves right +royally.</p> + +<p>Such imps of mischief!</p> + +<p>No whipping-post to-day! Full licence for all their pranks and madcap +jokes. The torment of all these worthy burgesses out on a holiday.</p> + +<p>Oh! these 'prentices!</p> + +<p>Hundreds of them out here this afternoon. They've come down from Esher +and Hampton, Kingston and Westminster and London City, like so many +buzzing insects seeking whom they can annoy.</p> + +<p>Now on the ground, suddenly tripping a pompous dame off her feet; anon +in rows, some half-dozen of them, elbow to elbow, head foremost, +charging the more serious crowd, and with a hoot and a yell scattering +it like a number of frightened goslings. Yet again at the confect booth, +to the distraction of the vendors of honey-cakes, stealing sugar-plums +and damson cheese, fighting, quarrelling, screeching, their thin legs +encased in hose of faded blue or grey worsted, their jerkins loose, +their shirt sleeves flapping in the breeze, a cool note of white amidst +the dark-coloured gowns of the older men.</p> + +<p>Heavens above! what a to-do!</p> + +<p>A group of women be-coiffed, apparelled in best kirtles and modish +shoes, were pressing round a booth where pantoufles, embroidered +pouches, kerchiefs, and velveted paniers were laid out in tempting +array.</p> + +<p>Just beyond, a number of buxom country wenches, with round red arms, +showing bare to the grilling sun, and laughing eyes, aglow with +ill-concealed gourmandise, were gaping at a mighty display of pullets, +hares, and pigeons, sides of roebuck and haunches of wild boar, ready +spiked, trussed, and skewered, fit to tempt Her Majesty's Grace's own +royal palate.</p> + +<p>Sprigs of sweet-scented marjoram, thyme, and wool-<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_14" id="Page_14">[Pg 14]</a></span>blade tastefully +disposed, further enhanced the attractions of this succulent show. 'Twas +enough to make the sweetest mouth water with anticipatory delight. A +brown-eyed, apple-cheeked wench in paniers of brilliant red was +unaffectedly licking her pretty lips.</p> + +<p>"This way, mistress, this way!" shouted the vendor of these appetizing +wares. A sturdy fellow, he, with ginger-coloured pate, and wielding a +long narrow-bladed knife in his fleshy hand. "This way! a haunch of buck +from the royal venery! a hare from Her Liege Majesty's own chase! a +pullet from——"</p> + +<p>"Nay, thou gorbellied knave!" responded a vendor of drugs and herbs +close by, whose stall was somewhat deserted, and whose temper was +obviously suffering—"Nay! an thou speakest the truth thou art a thief, +but if not, then thou'rt a liar! In either case art fit for the +hangman's rope!"</p> + +<p>"This way, my masters! this way!" came in loud, stentorian cries from a +neighbouring booth; "this way for Peter the juggler, the greatest +conjurer the world has ever seen!"</p> + +<p>"This way! I pray you, worthy sirs!" this from yet another place of +entertainment, "this way for John the tumbler!"</p> + +<p>"Peter the juggler will swallow a cross-bow of steel before your very +eyes!" shouted one crier.</p> + +<p>"John the tumbler will climb Saint Ethelburga's steeple without help of +rope or ladder," called the other.</p> + +<p>"Peter will show you how to shoe a turkey, how to put salt on a +swallow's tail, and how to have your cake and eat it!"</p> + +<p>"John will sit on two stools without coming to the ground!"</p> + +<p>"Marry! and ye both lie faster than my mule can trot!" came in hilarious +accents from one of the crowd.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_15" id="Page_15">[Pg 15]</a></span>"And Peter the juggler will show thee how to make thy mule trot faster +than thou canst lie, friend," responded Peter's crier unabashed, "and a +mighty difficult task 'twill be, I'll warrant."</p> + +<p>Laughing, joking, ogling like some fickle jade, the crowd passed from +booth to booth: now dropping a few coins in Peter the juggler's hat, now +watching the antics of John the tumbler; anon looking on amazed, half +terrified at the evolutions of a gigantic brown bear, led by the nose by +a vigorous knave in leather jerkin and cross-gartered hose, and +accompanied by a youngster who was blowing on a mighty sackbut until his +cheeks looked nigh to bursting.</p> + +<p>But adsheart! who shall tell of all the attractions which were set forth +on that memorable day before the loyal subjects of good Queene Marye?</p> + +<p>There were the trestles where one could play at ball and knuckle-bone, +or chance and mumchance; another, where evens and odds and backgammon +proved tempting. He who willed could tilt at Weekie, play quoits or +lansquenet, at ball or at the billiards, or risk his coppers on such +games as one-and-thirty, or at the pass ten; he might try his skill, +too, at throwing the dart, or his strength at putting the stone.</p> + +<p>There were mountebanks and quacksalvers, lapidaries at work, and +astrologers in their tents. For twopence one could have a bout with the +back-sword or the Spanish tuck, could watch the situations and +conjunctions of the fixed stars and the planets, could play a game of +tennis or pelitrigone, or be combed and curled, perfumed and trimmed so +as to please a dainty mistress's eye.</p> + +<p>And through it all the loud bang! bang! bang! of the big drums, the +criers proclaiming the qualities of their wares, the jarring notes of +the sackbut and the allman flute, the screechy viol and the strident +nine-hole<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_16" id="Page_16">[Pg 16]</a></span> pipe, all playing against one another, each striving to drown +the other, and mingling with the laughter of the crowd, the yells of the +'prentices, the babble of the women, formed a huge volume of +ear-splitting cacophony which must have been heard from one end of the +country to the other.</p> + +<p>All was noise, merriment, and laughter, save in one spot—an +out-of-the-way, half-hidden corner of the fair, where the sister +streams, the Ember and the Mole, join hands for a space, meet but to +part again, and whence the distant towers and cupolas of Hampton Court +appeared like those of a fairy palace floating in mid-ether, perched +high aloft in the shimmering haze of this hot late summer's afternoon.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_17" id="Page_17">[Pg 17]</a></span></p> + +<h2 class="newchapter"><a name="CHAPTER_II" id="CHAPTER_II"></a>CHAPTER II<br /> +<span class="smalltext">THE WITCH'S TENT</span></h2> + + +<p>There are many accounts still extant of the various doings at East +Molesey Fair on this 2nd of October in the year of our Lord 1553, and +several chroniclers—Renard is conspicuous among the latter—make +mention of the events which very nearly turned the gay and varying +comedies of that day into weird and tragic drama.</p> + +<p>Certainly the witch's tent was a mistake.</p> + +<p>But what would you? No doubt the worthy individual, who for purposes of +mystification called himself "Abra," had tried many means of earning a +livelihood before he and his associate in business took to the +lucrative, yet dangerous trade of necromancy.</p> + +<p>He was tall and gaunt, with hooked nose and deep-sunk eyes; he had +cultivated a long, grey beard, and could call forth the powers of Mirrab +the Witch with a remarkably solemn and guttural voice.</p> + +<p>As for Mirrab herself, no one was allowed to see her. That was part of +the business. She was a witch, a dealer in magic potions, charms and +philters, a reader of the stars, and—softly be it spoken—a friend and +companion of the devil! She only appeared enveloped in a thick veil, +with divining wand held lightly in her hand, the ends of her gold +tresses alone visible below the heavy covering which swathed her head.</p> + +<p>It was the mystery of it all—cheap devices at best<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_18" id="Page_18">[Pg 18]</a></span>—which from the +first had irritated the country-folk who thronged the Fair.</p> + +<p>The tent itself was unlike any other ever seen at East Molesey. It stood +high upon a raised wooden platform, to which a few rough steps gave +access. On the right was a tall flagstaff, with black flag emblazoned +with white skull and cross-bones, fluttering lazily in the breeze.</p> + +<p>On the left a huge elm tree, with great heavy branches overshadowing the +tent, had been utilized to support a placard bearing the words—</p> + +<p class="center"> +<b>"Mirrab! the World-famed Necromancer!<br /> +Sale of Magic Charms and Love Philters<br /> +Horoscope Casting and Elixir of Life!"</b></p> + +<p>Perched on the platform, and assisted by a humbler henchman, armed with +big drum and cymbals, the worthy Abra, in high-peaked cap and flowing +mantle covered with strange devices, had all day long invited customers +to his booth by uttering strange, mysterious promises.</p> + +<p>"This way, this way, my masters," he would say with imposing solemnity; +"the world-famous necromancer, Mirrab, will evoke for you the spirits of +Mars, of Saturn, or of the moon."</p> + +<p>"She will show you the Grand Grimorium. . . !"</p> + +<p>Now what was the Grand Grimorium? The very sound of the words suggested +some agency of the devil; no Christian man had ever heard or spoken of +the Grand Grimorium.</p> + +<p>"She will show you the use of the blasting rod and the divining wand. +She will call forth the elementary spirits. . . ."</p> + +<p>Some people would try to laugh. Who had ever heard of the elementary +spirits? Perhaps if some of the more enlightened town worthies happened +to be nigh the booth, one or two of them would begin to chaff the +necromancer.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_19" id="Page_19">[Pg 19]</a></span>"And prithee, friend wizard," a solemn burgher would suggest, "prithee +what are the elementary spirits?"</p> + +<p>But Abra was nothing if not ready-witted.</p> + +<p>"The elementary spirits," he would explain with imperturbable gravity, +"are the green butterfly, the black pullet, the queen of the hairy +flies, and the screech owl."</p> + +<p>The weird nomenclature was enough to make any one's hair stand on end. +Even the sedate burgesses would shake their heads and silently edge +away, whilst their womenkind would run swiftly past the booth, muttering +a quick <i>Ave</i> to the blessed Virgin or kissing the Holy Scapulary hung +beneath their kerchiefs, as their terrified glances met the cabalistic +signs on the black flag.</p> + +<p>The humbler country-folk frankly spat upon the ground three times +whenever they caught sight of the flag, and that is a sure way of +sending the devil about his business.</p> + +<p>The shadows now were beginning to lengthen.</p> + +<p>The towers and cupolas of Hampton Court Palace were studded with gold +and gems by the slanting rays of the setting sun.</p> + +<p>It had been a glorious afternoon and, except in the open space +immediately in front of the witch's tent, the fun of the fair had lost +none of its zest.</p> + +<p>The witch's booth alone was solitary—weird-looking beneath the +spreading branches of the overhanging elm.</p> + +<p>The tent seemed lighted from within, for as the evening breeze stirred +its hangings, gleams of brilliant red, more glowing than the sunset, +appeared in zigzag streaks between its folds.</p> + +<p>Behind, and to the right and left of it, the gentle murmur of the sister +streams sounded like ghostly whisperings of evening sprites, busy +spreading their grey mantles over the distant landscape.</p> + +<p>As the afternoon wore on, the crowd in the other parts<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_20" id="Page_20">[Pg 20]</a></span> of the Fair had +grown more and more dense, and now, among the plainer garb of the +burgesses and townsfolk, and the jerkins and worsted hose of the yokels, +could be seen quite frequently a silken doublet or velvet trunk, a +masked face perhaps beneath a plumed bonnet, or the point of a sword +gleaming beneath the long, dark mantle, denoting the Court gallant.</p> + +<p>Now and then, too, hooded and closely swathed forms would flit quickly +through the crowd, followed by the inquisitive glances of the humbler +folk, as the dainty tip of a broidered shoe or the richly wrought hem of +a silken kirtle, protruding below the cloak, betrayed the lady of rank +and fashion on gay adventure bent.</p> + +<p>Most of these veiled figures had found their way up the rough wooden +steps which led to the witch's tent. The fame of Mirrab, the Soothsayer, +had reached the purlieus of the palace, and Abra, the magician, had more +than once seen his lean palm crossed with gold.</p> + +<p>"This way, noble lords! this way!"</p> + +<p>He was even now trying to draw the attention of two cloaked figures, who +had just emerged in sight of the booth.</p> + +<p>Two gentlemen of the Court evidently, for Abra's quick eye had caught a +glimpse of richly chased sword-hilts, as the wind blew the heavy, dark +mantles to one side.</p> + +<p>But these gentlemen were paying little heed to the worthy magician's +blandishments. They were whispering excitedly to one another, whilst +eagerly scanning the crowd all round them.</p> + +<p>"They were ladies from the Court, I feel sure," said the taller man of +the two; "I swear I have seen the hem of that kirtle before."</p> + +<p>"Carramba!" replied the other, "it promised well, but methinks we've +lost track of them now."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_21" id="Page_21">[Pg 21]</a></span>He spoke English very fluently, yet with a strong, guttural intonation, +whilst the well-known Spanish oath which he uttered betrayed his +nationality.</p> + +<p>"Pardi!" he added impatiently, "I could have sworn that the damsels were +bent on consulting the witch."</p> + +<p>"Nay, only on seeing the fun of the Fair apparently," rejoined the +other; "we've lain in wait here now for nigh on half an hour."</p> + +<p>"Mirrab the Soothsayer will evoke for you the spirits of the moon, oh +noble lords!" urged Abra, with ever-increasing persuasiveness. "She will +give you the complaisance of the entire female sex."</p> + +<p>"What say you, my lord," said the Englishman after a while, "shall we +give up the quest after those elusive damsels and woo these obliging +spirits of the moon? They say the witch has marvellous powers."</p> + +<p>"Bah, milor!" rejoined the Spaniard gaily, "a veiled female! Think on +it! Those who have entered yon mysterious tent declare that scarce an +outline of that soothsayer could they glean, beneath the folds of thick +draperies which hide her from view. What is a shapeless woman? I ask +you, milor. And in England, too," he added with affected gallantry which +had more than a touch of sarcasm in it, "where all women are shapely."</p> + +<p>"Mirrab, the world-famous necromancer, will bring to your arms the lady +of your choice, oh most noble lords!" continued the persistent Abra, +"even if she were hidden beyond the outermost corners of the earth."</p> + +<p>"By my halidame! this decides me," quoth the Englishman merrily. "I pray +you come, my lord. This adventure promises better than the other. And, +who knows?" he added in his turn with thinly-veiled, pleasant irony, +"you Spaniards are so persuasive—the witch, if she be young and fair, +might lift her veil for you."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_22" id="Page_22">[Pg 22]</a></span>"Allons!" responded the other, "since 'tis your wish, milor, let us +consult the spirits."</p> + +<p>And, standing aside with the courtly grace peculiar to those of his +nationality, he allowed his companion to precede him up the steps which +led to Mirrab's tent.</p> + +<p>Then he too followed, and laughing and chattering the two men +disappeared behind the gaudily painted draperies.</p> + +<p>Not, however, without tossing a couple of gold pieces into the hands of +the wizard. Abra, obsequious, smiling, thoroughly contented, sat himself +down to rest awhile beside his patient, hard-worked henchman.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_23" id="Page_23">[Pg 23]</a></span></p> + +<h2 class="newchapter"><a name="CHAPTER_III" id="CHAPTER_III"></a>CHAPTER III<br /> +<span class="smalltext">MISCHIEF BREWING</span></h2> + + +<p>At some little distance from the mysterious booth a trestle table had +been erected, at which some three or four wenches in hooped paniers and +short, striped kirtles, were dispensing spiced ale and sack to the +thirsty village folk.</p> + +<p>Here it was that Mirrab the witch and her attendant wizard were most +freely discussed—with bated breath, and with furtive glances cast +hurriedly at the black flag, which was just visible above the row of +other booths and gayer attractions of the Fair.</p> + +<p>There was no doubt that as the evening began to draw in, and the sun to +sink lower and lower in the west, the superstitious terror, which had +all along set these worthy country yokels against the awesome mysteries +of the necromancer's tent, had gradually culminated into a hysterical +frenzy.</p> + +<p>At first sullen looks had been cast towards that distant spot, whence +the sound of Abra's perpetual "This way, noble lords, this way!" came +every now and then as a weird and ghostly echo; but now muttered curses +and even a threatening gesture from time to time had taken the place of +angry silence.</p> + +<p>As the hard pates of these louts became heated with the foaming ale, +their tempers began to rise, and the girls, with characteristic love of +mischief and gossip, were ready enough to add fuel to the smouldering +flames.</p> + +<p>There was also present in the minds of these wenches<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_24" id="Page_24">[Pg 24]</a></span> an obvious feeling +of jealousy against this mysterious veiled witch, who had proved so +attractive to the Court gallants who visited the Fair.</p> + +<p>Her supposed charms so carefully hidden beneath thick draperies, were +reputed to be irresistible, and Mistress Dorothy, Susan, and Joan, who +showed their own pretty faces unblushingly, were not sufficiently versed +in mountebanks' tricks to realize that Mirrab's thick veil was, without +doubt, only a means for arousing the jaded curiosity of idlers from the +Court.</p> + +<p>Be that as it may, it was an established fact that no one had seen the +soothsayer's face, and that Mistress Dorothy, who was pouring out a huge +tankard of sack for her own attendant swain, was exceedingly annoyed +thereby.</p> + +<p>"Bah!" she said contemptuously, as Abra and his magic devices were being +discussed at the table, "he is but a lout. I tell thee, Matthew, that +thou'rt a fool to take count of him. But the woman," she added under her +breath, "is possessed of the devil."</p> + +<p>Matthew, the shoemaker, took the tankard, which his sweetheart had +filled for him, in both hands and took a long draught before he made any +reply. Then he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, spat upon the +ground, and looked significantly at the circle of friends who were +gathered round him.</p> + +<p>"I tell you, my masters," he said at last with due solemnity, "that I +saw that witch last night fly out from yonder tree astride upon a giant +bat."</p> + +<p>"A bat?"</p> + +<p>A holy shudder went round the entire assembly. Pretty Mistress Susan +crossed herself furtively, whilst Joan in her terror nearly dropped the +handful of mugs which she was carrying.</p> + +<p>Every one hung on the shoemaker's lips.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_25" id="Page_25">[Pg 25]</a></span>Short and somewhat tubby of body, Matthew had a round and chubby face, +with pale blue, bulging eyes, and slightly elevated eyebrows, which gave +him the appearance of an overgrown baby. He was for some reason, which +has never transpired to this day, reputed to have wonderful wisdom. His +items of news, gleaned from a nephew who was scullion in the royal +kitchen, were always received with boundless respect, whilst the +connection itself gave him a certain social superiority of which he was +proudly conscious.</p> + +<p>Like the true-born orator, Matthew had paused a moment in order to allow +the full strength of his utterance to sink into the minds of his +hearers.</p> + +<p>"Aye!" he said after a while, "she flew out from between the branches +and up towards the full moon, clad only——"</p> + +<p>A brusque movement and a blush from Mistress Dorothy here stopped the +graphic flow of his eloquence.</p> + +<p>"Er—hem—!" he concluded more tamely, "I saw her quite plainly."</p> + +<p>"More shame then on thee, master," retorted Dorothy, whose wrath was far +from subsiding, "for thus gazing on the devil's work."</p> + +<p>But the matter had become of far too great import to allow of feminine +jealousies being taken into account.</p> + +<p>"And I know," added an elderly matron with quaking voice, "that my +sister Hannah's child caught sight of the witch outside her tent this +morning, and forthwith fell into convulsions, the poor innocent lamb."</p> + +<p>"She hath the evil eye, depend on it," quoth Dorothy decisively.</p> + +<p>The men said nothing. They were sipping their ale in sullen silence, and +looking to Matthew for further expressions of wisdom.</p> + +<p>"Those evil spirits have oft a filthy countenance," ex<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_26" id="Page_26">[Pg 26]</a></span>plained the +shoemaker sententiously, "and no doubt 'twas they helped to convulse +Mistress Hannah's child. Some have four faces—one in the usual place, +another at the back of the head, and one looking out on either side; +others appear with a tall and lean body and bellow like a bull."</p> + +<p>"Hast seen them, Matthew?" came in awed whispers from those around.</p> + +<p>"Nay! God and the Holy Virgin forbid!" protested Matthew fervently. "God +forbid that I should enter their abode of evil. I should lose my soul."</p> + +<p>There was a long, ominous silence, broken only by quickly muttered +invocations to the saints and to Our Lady.</p> + +<p>The men looked furtively at one another. The women clung together, not +daring to utter a sound. Mistress Dorothy, all the boldness gone out of +her little heart, was sobbing from sheer fright.</p> + +<p>"Friends," said Matthew at last, as if with sudden resolution, "if that +woman be possessed of the devil, what's to be done?"</p> + +<p>There was no reply, but obviously they all understood one another, for +each wore a shame-faced look all of a sudden, and dared not meet his +neighbour's eye. But the danger was great. The devil in their midst +would mean poisoned wells, the sweating sickness, some dire calamity for +sure; and it was the duty of every true-hearted countryman to protect +his home and family from such terrible disasters.</p> + +<p>Therefore when Matthew in his wisdom said, "What's to be done?" the men +fully understood.</p> + +<p>The women, too, knew that mischief was brewing. They drew closer to one +another and shivered with cold beneath their kerchiefs, in spite of the +warmth of this beautiful late summer's afternoon.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_27" id="Page_27">[Pg 27]</a></span>"Beware of her, Matthew," entreated Mistress Dorothy tearfully.</p> + +<p>She drew a small piece of blue cloth from the bosom of her dress: it was +pinked and broidered, and had the image of the Holy Virgin painted on +one side of it. Quickly she slipped it under her lover's jerkin.</p> + +<p>"Take it," she whispered, "the scapulary of Our Lady will protect thee."</p> + +<p>This momentous conclave was here interrupted by the approach of the +small detachment of the town guard which had been sent hither to ensure +order amongst the holiday-makers.</p> + +<p>Matthew and his friends began ostentatiously to talk of the weather and +other such trifling matters, until after the guard had passed, then once +more they put their heads together.</p> + +<p>But this time they bade the women go. What had to be discussed now was +men's work and unfit for wenches' ears.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_28" id="Page_28">[Pg 28]</a></span></p> + +<h2 class="newchapter"><a name="CHAPTER_IV" id="CHAPTER_IV"></a>CHAPTER IV<br /> +<span class="smalltext">FRIENDS AND ENEMIES</span></h2> + + +<p>In the meanwhile the two gallants were returning from their visit to the +witch's tent.</p> + +<p>As they came down the steps more than one voice among the passers-by +inquired eagerly—</p> + +<p>"What fortune, sirs?"</p> + +<p>"In truth she hath strange powers," was the somewhat guarded response.</p> + +<p>The two men strolled up to a neighbouring wine-vendor and ordered some +wine. They had thrown their cloaks aside and removed their masks, for +the air was close. The rich, slashed doublets, thus fully displayed, the +fine lace at throat and wrist, the silken hose and chased daggers, all +betokened the high quality and wealth of the wearers.</p> + +<p>Neither of them seemed much above thirty years of age; each had the air +of a man in the prime of life, and in the full enjoyment of all the good +things which the world can give.</p> + +<p>But in their actual appearance they presented a marked contrast.</p> + +<p>The one tall and broad-shouldered, florid of complexion, and somewhat +reddish about the hair and small pointed beard; the other short, +slender, and alert, with keen, restless eyes, and with sensuous lips for +ever curled in a smile of thinly veiled sarcasm.</p> + +<p>Though outwardly on most familiar terms together, there was distinctly +apparent between the two men an<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_29" id="Page_29">[Pg 29]</a></span> air of reserve, and even of decided, if +perhaps friendly, antagonism.</p> + +<p>"Well, milor Everingham," said the Spaniard after a while, "what say you +to our adventure?"</p> + +<p>"I say first and foremost, my lord," replied Everingham with studied +gallantry, "that my prophecy proved correct—the mysterious necromancer +was no proof against Spanish wiles; she unveiled at a smile from Don +Miguel, Marquis de Suarez, the envoy of His Most Catholic Majesty."</p> + +<p>"Nay," rejoined Don Miguel, affecting not to notice the slight tone of +sarcasm in his friend's pleasant voice, "I scarce caught a glimpse of +the wench's face. The tent was so dark and her movements so swift."</p> + +<p>There was a moment's silence. Lord Everingham seemed lost in meditation.</p> + +<p>"You are thoughtful, milor," remarked Don Miguel. "Have the genii of the +moon conquered your own usually lively spirits?"</p> + +<p>"Nay, I was thinking of the curious resemblance," mused Everingham.</p> + +<p>"A resemblance?—to whom?"</p> + +<p>"As you say, the tent was dark and the wench's movements swift, yet I +could see that, though coarsely clad and ill-kempt, that witch, whom +they call Mirrab, is the very physical counterpart of the new Court +beauty, the Lady Ursula Glynde."</p> + +<p>"The fiancée of the Duke of Wessex!" exclaimed the Spaniard. +"Impossible!"</p> + +<p>"Nay, my lord," rejoined Everingham pointedly, "she scarce can be called +His Grace's fiancée as yet. They were children in their cradles when +<i>her</i> father plighted their troth."</p> + +<p>The Spaniard made no immediate reply. With an affected, effeminate +gesture he was gently stroking his<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_30" id="Page_30">[Pg 30]</a></span> long, black moustache. Everingham, +on the other hand, was eyeing him keenly, with a certain look of +defiance and challenge, and in a moment the antagonism between the two +men appeared more marked than before.</p> + +<p>"But gossip has it," said the Marquis at last, with assumed nonchalance, +"that Lady Ursula's father—the Earl of Truro, was it not?—swore upon +his honour and on his deathbed that she should wed the Duke of Wessex, +whenever he claimed her hand, or live her life in a convent. Nay, I but +repeat the rumour which has reached me," he added lightly; "put me right +if I am in error, my lord. I am but a stranger, and have not yet had the +honour of meeting His Grace."</p> + +<p>"Bah!" said Everingham impatiently, "His Grace is in no humour to wed, +nor do the Earl of Truro's deathbed vows bind <i>him</i> in any way."</p> + +<p>He took up his bumper, and looking long and thoughtfully into it, he +said with slow emphasis—</p> + +<p>"If the Duke of Wessex be inclined to marry, believe me, my lord +Marquis, that it shall be none other than the Queen of England! Whom may +God bless and protect," he added, reverently lifting his plumed hat with +one hand, whilst with the other he held the bumper to his lips and +tossed down the full measure of wine at one draught.</p> + +<p>"Amen to that," responded Don Miguel with the same easy nonchalance.</p> + +<p>He too drained his bumper to the dregs; then he said quietly—</p> + +<p>"But that is where we differ, milor. His Eminence the Cardinal de Moreno +and myself both hope that the Queen of England will wed our master King +Philip of Spain."</p> + +<p>Everingham seemed as if he would reply. But with a certain effort he +checked the impatient words which had risen to his lips. Englishmen had +only just begun to learn<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_31" id="Page_31">[Pg 31]</a></span> the tricks and wiles of Spanish diplomacy, the +smiles which hide antagonisms, the suave words which disguise impulsive +thoughts.</p> + +<p>Lord Everingham had not wholly assimilated the lesson. He had frowned +impatiently when the question of the marriage of his queen had been +broached by the foreigner. It was a matter which roused the temper of +every loyal Englishman just then; they would <i>not</i> see Mary Tudor wedded +to a stranger. England was beginning to feel her own independence; her +children would not see her under another yoke.</p> + +<p>Mary, in spite of her Spanish mother, was English to the backbone. +Tudor-like, she had proved her grit and her pluck when opposing factions +tried to wrest her crown from her. She was Harry's daughter. Her loyal +subjects were proud of her and proud of her descent, and many of them +had sworn that none but an English husband should share her throne with +her.</p> + +<p>With the same sarcastic smile still lurking round his full lips the +Spaniard had watched his friend closely the while. He knew full well +what was going on behind that florid countenance, knew the antagonism +which the proposed Spanish marriage was rousing just then in the hearts +and minds of Englishmen of all classes.</p> + +<p>But he certainly did not care to talk over such momentous questions at a +country fair, with the eyes and mouths of hundreds of yokels gaping +astonishment at him.</p> + +<p>As far as he was concerned the half-amicable discussion was closed. He +and his friend had agreed to differ. According to Spanish ideas, +divergence in political opinions need not interfere with pleasant +camaraderie.</p> + +<p>With a genuine desire, therefore, to change the subject of conversation, +Don Miguel rose from his seat and idly scanned the passing crowd.</p> + +<p>"Carramba!" he ejaculated suddenly.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_32" id="Page_32">[Pg 32]</a></span>"What is it?"</p> + +<p>"Our two masks," whispered the Spaniard. "What say you, milor, shall we +resume our interrupted adventure and abandon the tiresome field of +politics for the more easy paths of gallantry?"</p> + +<p>And without waiting for his friend's reply, eager, impetuous, fond of +intrigues and mysteries, the young man darted through the crowd in the +direction where his keen eyes had spied a couple of hooded figures, +thickly veiled, who were obviously trying to pass unperceived.</p> + +<p>Everingham followed closely on the young Spaniard's footsteps. But the +sun had already sunk low down in the west. Outlines and silhouettes had +become indistinct and elusive. By the time the Marquis de Suarez and his +English friend had elbowed their way through the throng the two +mysterious figures had once more disappeared.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_33" id="Page_33">[Pg 33]</a></span></p> + +<h2 class="newchapter"><a name="CHAPTER_V" id="CHAPTER_V"></a>CHAPTER V<br /> +<span class="smalltext">LADIES AND GALLANTS</span></h2> + + +<p>Breathless, half laughing and half crying, very merry, yet wholly +frightened, those same two hooded and masked figures had paused almost +immediately beneath the platform of Mirrab's tent.</p> + +<p>They had been running very fast, and, exhausted, were now clinging to +one another, cowering in the deepest shadow of the rough wooden +construction.</p> + +<p>"Oh! Margaret sweet," whispered a feminine voice from behind the silken +mask, "I vow I should have died with fright!"</p> + +<p>"Think you we have escaped them?" murmured the other feebly.</p> + +<p>She who had first spoken, taller than her friend and obviously the +leader of this mad escapade, tiptoed cautiously forward and peered out +into the open space.</p> + +<p>"Sh—sh—sh!" she whispered, as she dragged her unwilling companion +after her, "do you see them? . . . right over there . . . they are +running fast . . . Oh! ho! ho! ho!" she laughed suddenly with childish +glee as she clapped her hands together; "but, Margaret dear! . . . did +we not fool them merrily? . . . Oh! I could shriek for joy! Aye, run, +run, run, my fine gallants!" she added, blowing an imaginary kiss to her +distant pursuers, "an you go that way you'll ne'er o'ertake us, e'en +though you raced the wind . . . ha! ha! ha! . . ."</p> + +<p>Her laugh sounded a little forced and hysterical, for she<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_34" id="Page_34">[Pg 34]</a></span> had had a +terrible fright, and her companion was still clinging miserably, +helplessly to her side.</p> + +<p>"Nay, Ursula, how can you be so merry?" admonished Margaret in a voice +almost choked with tears; "think if the Duchess of Lincoln were to hear +of this adventure—or Her Majesty herself—oh! . . ."</p> + +<p>But Ursula's gay, madcap mood was proof against Margaret's tears.</p> + +<p>"Oh! oh! oh!" she ejaculated, mimicking her friend's tones of horror. +"Oh!" she added with mock seriousness, "well, then, of course, there +would be trouble, Margaret mine! . . . sweet Margaret! . . . such a +lecture! . . . and oh! oh! oh! such black looks from Her Majesty! . . . +we should e'en—think on it!—have to look demure for at least two days, +until our sins be forgiven us! . . ."</p> + +<p>She paused awhile, mischief apparent even beneath the half-transparent +lace which hid her laughter-loving mouth. She drew her trembling +companion closer to her, and, still laughing, she coaxed her gently.</p> + +<p>"There, there, sweet," she murmured, "cheer up, I pray thee, cheer up. +. . . See, we have come to the end of our journey. We have baffled those +persistent gallants, and this is the witch's tent. Margaret!" she added +with an impatient tap of the foot, "art a goose to go on crying so? I +vow I'd have come alone had I known thou'rt such a coward."</p> + +<p>"Ursula!" said Margaret, somewhat emboldened by her friend's assurance, +"could you guess who were those two gallants?"</p> + +<p>"Nay," replied Ursula indifferently, "one of them, methinks, was the +Marquis de Suarez, for I caught sight of his black silk hose, but what +do we care about these nincompoops, Margaret? Come and see the witch—we +have no time to lose."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_35" id="Page_35">[Pg 35]</a></span>Eagerly she turned towards the booth, and somewhat awed, anxious, yet +not wholly daring, she gazed up in astonishment at the gaudy draperies, +the tall flagstaff, the weird black flag with its strange device. Then +with sudden resolution she planted her foot upon the bottom step.</p> + +<p>"Wilt follow me, sweet?" she asked.</p> + +<p>Even as she spoke Abra, in tall peaked cap and flowing mantle, emerged +from within the tent.</p> + +<p>Margaret, who was screwing up her courage to follow her friend, gave a +shriek of dismay.</p> + +<p>"No! no! no! Ursula!" she said, clinging to the other girl, not daring +to look up at the awesome figure of the lean magician. "I implore you, +give up the thought."</p> + +<p>"Give up the thought?" rejoined Ursula, boldly trying to smother her own +superstitious fears, "when I've gone thus far?"</p> + +<p>"I cannot think what you want with that horrid witch!" pleaded Margaret.</p> + +<p>At sight of Abra's long white beard, his wizard's wand, and cloak +covered with cabalistic signs, even Ursula's courage had begun to ebb. +She had hastily retreated from the steps and followed Margaret once more +within the protecting shelter of the shadows.</p> + +<p>"I want to know my fortune, Margaret mine," she said in a voice which +was not quite as firm as before, "and I hear that this witch can see +into the future. 'Tis said that she has marvellous powers."</p> + +<p>"Why should you want to know the future?" persisted timid, practical +Margaret; "is not the present good enough for you?"</p> + +<p>"His Grace of Wessex comes back to Court to-day," rejoined Ursula, +"after an absence of many months."</p> + +<p>"Well?—what of him?"</p> + +<p>"What of him? . . . Margaret, art stupid, or art not<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_36" id="Page_36">[Pg 36]</a></span> my friend? . . . +Is it not natural that I should wish to know whether I am to be Duchess +of Wessex or abbess in a holy but uncomfortable convent?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, 'tis natural enough," assented Margaret thoughtfully, "but——"</p> + +<p>"His Grace has never seen me since I was so long," said Ursula with a +short, impatient sigh, and stretching out a round arm decked with a +sleeve of rich silk and fine lace. "I had a red face then, and pap was +stuffed into my mouth to keep me quiet. You see, I could not have been +madly alluring then."</p> + +<p>"And you are beautiful now, Ursula. But of what avail is it? You cannot +wed His Grace of Wessex, for he'll never ask you to be his wife. He'll +marry the Queen. All England wishes it."</p> + +<p>"But I wish him to marry me," quoth Ursula with a resolute tap of her +high-heeled shoe against the ground. "Yes, me! and I want that witch +yonder to ask the stars if he will fall in love with me when he sees me, +or if he will yield to those who want to make of him a tool for their +political ambition, and marry an ugly, ill-tempered old woman who +happens to be Queen of England."</p> + +<p>"Ursula!"</p> + +<p>Margaret's horror, amazement, and awe had rendered her almost +speechless. Ursula's utterance was nearly sacrilegious, in these days +when kings and queens ruled by right divine.</p> + +<p>But the young girl continued, quite unabashed by her friend's rebuke.</p> + +<p>"Well," she said imperturbably, "you can't deny that the Queen is old! +. . . and ugly! . . . and ill-tempered! . . ."</p> + +<p>Margaret, however, was prepared to deny these monstrous statements with +the last breath left in her delicate body. The poor little soul was +frightened out of her wits.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_37" id="Page_37">[Pg 37]</a></span>Suppose some one had overheard!—and repeated the tale that two of the +Queen's ladies-in-waiting had called Her Majesty old!—and ugly!—and +ill-tempered!——</p> + +<p>Nay, Ursula's madcap freaks were past bearing! and would lead her into +serious trouble one of these days.</p> + +<p>"Margaret," whispered the delinquent, who still seemed quite unaware of +the enormity of her offence, "hast thou ever seen His Grace of Wessex?"</p> + +<p>"No," replied Margaret curtly, for she was still very wrathful, and +vaguely felt that, at this stage, all references to the Duke were +somehow treasonable.</p> + +<p>"Nor I since I was a baby," sighed Ursula; "but see here. . . ."</p> + +<p>From beneath the folds of her cloak she drew a chain and locket, and +holding the latter before Margaret's unwilling eyes, she said +ecstatically—</p> + +<p>"That's his picture. Isn't he handsome?"</p> + +<p>"You've fallen in love with his picture!"</p> + +<p>"Madly!"</p> + +<p>"Madly indeed!" retorted Margaret.</p> + +<p>Ursula once more hid the locket inside her robe. She had regained all +her courage. Once more dragging her weaker companion by the wrist she +turned towards the witch's booth.</p> + +<p>Abra, the magician, tired out by his day's exertions, had settled +himself down on a tattered piece of rug outside the tent; there he had +fallen peacefully asleep, his venerable head thrown back, his lean +shanks hanging over the edge of the platform and snoring the snore of +the just. Thus he had failed to spy the two hooded, dainty figures, who +had all along kept within the shadows.</p> + +<p>Suddenly through his pleasant slumbers he heard an eagerly whispered—</p> + +<p>"Hey! friend!"</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_38" id="Page_38">[Pg 38]</a></span>Whilst the toe of his shoe was violently tagged at from below.</p> + +<p>"Friend, wake!"</p> + +<p>"They won't listen!" added an impatient, half-tearful voice.</p> + +<p>But already Abra was on his feet. Giving his humble henchman a violent +kick to wake him up, he began to mutter mechanically, even before he was +fully conscious—</p> + +<p>"What ho, my masters! consult the world-famous necromancer——"</p> + +<p>Bang! bang! bang! on the big drum came automatically from his henchman, +who was only half awake.</p> + +<p>"No! no! no!" entreated Ursula, "I prithee not so much noise! We wish to +consult the soothsayer . . . we've brought some money . . . three gold +pieces . . . is that enough? . . . But in the name of Our Lady I beg of +thee not to make so much noise."</p> + +<p>Timidly she held up a silken purse towards the astonished wizard. Three +gold pieces!—why, 'twas a fortune, the like of which the worthy Abra +had never beheld in one sum in his life.</p> + +<p>To ask him not to make a noise was to demand the impossible. With one +hand he pushed his henchman vigorously to one side. The latter dropped +his cymbals, which rattled off the platform with an ear-splitting crash.</p> + +<p>All the while Abra in stentorian tones, and holding back the folds of +the tent, was shouting at the top of his voice—</p> + +<p>"This way, ladies! for the great soothsayer Mirrab, the sale of +love-philters and charms, and of the true elixir of life."</p> + +<p>"The die is cast, Margaret mine," said Ursula, trying vainly to steady +her voice, which was trembling, and her knees which were shaking beneath +her. "Art coming?—Oh! I—I—feel a little nervous," she admitted in +spite of herself, "and you—oh! how your hand trembles. . . ."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_39" id="Page_39">[Pg 39]</a></span>She was frankly terrified now. The noise was so awful, and though she +did not dare look to the right or left of her she was conscious that she +and her friend were no longer alone on the open place. She could hear +the murmur of voices, the sound of idle folk gathering in every +direction.</p> + +<p>Her instinct suggested immediate flight, and the abandonment of this mad +adventure while there was yet time, but her pride urged her to proceed. +She gripped Margaret's wrist with a resolute hand and made a quick rush +for the steps.</p> + +<p>Alas! she was just two seconds too late. The next instant she felt her +waist seized firmly from behind, whilst a merry voice shouted—</p> + +<p>"Cornered at last!"</p> + +<p>Wrenching herself free with a sudden twist of her firm young shoulders, +Ursula contrived to liberate herself momentarily. She was dimly +conscious of having caught sight of Margaret in the like plight as +herself.</p> + +<p>"Not so fast, fair one," whispered an insinuating voice close to her, "a +word in thy pretty ear."</p> + +<p>Oh! the shame of this vulgar adventure! Pursued like some kitchen wench +out on a spree, by a gallant, eager for an idle kiss.</p> + +<p>She felt her cheeks tingle underneath her mask; saw and guessed the +short laugh, the shrug of the shoulders of the idlers round, far too +accustomed to these spectacles to take more than passing note of it.</p> + +<p>Once more the firm grip had seized her waist. This time she felt herself +powerless to struggle.</p> + +<p>"Nay, in the name of heaven, sir," she entreated tearfully, "I pray you +let me go."</p> + +<p>"Not until I have caught a nearer sight of those bright eyes, that shine +at me through that cruel mask."</p> + +<p>The soft guttural tones revealed the identity of the speaker to Ursula. +She knew Don Miguel well; knew his<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_40" id="Page_40">[Pg 40]</a></span> wild, impudent spirit, his love of +idle flirtations which had already made him the terror of the prim +Queen's Court. She knew that she would not be allowed to escape before +this ridiculous episode had been brought to its usual conclusion.</p> + +<p>Oh! how she longed for the Duchess of Lincoln's severe guardianship at +this moment! How bitterly she repented the folly which had prompted her +to drag Margaret along into this wild adventure.</p> + +<p>Poor Margaret! she, too, was doing her best to evade the unwelcome +attentions of her gallant! and that magician! and those louts! all +grinning like so many apes at the spectacle.</p> + +<p>It was maddening!</p> + +<p>And she was helpless!</p> + +<p>The next moment the young Spaniard's indiscreet hands had snatched the +protecting mask from her face, and the daintiest and most perfect +picture Nature had ever fashioned stood revealed, blushing with shame +and vexation, before his delighted, slightly sarcastic gaze.</p> + +<p>"Ah! luck favours me indeed!" he murmured with avowed admiration, "the +newly-risen star—nay! the brightest sun in the firmament of beauty! the +Lady Ursula Glynde!"</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_41" id="Page_41">[Pg 41]</a></span></p> + +<h2 class="newchapter"><a name="CHAPTER_VI" id="CHAPTER_VI"></a>CHAPTER VI<br /> +<span class="smalltext">THE LADY URSULA</span></h2> + + +<p>She was only nineteen then. Not very tall, yet perfectly proportioned, +and with that small, oval face of hers which delighted yet puzzled all +the artists of the epoch.</p> + +<p>The dark hood of her cloak had fallen back at the impertinent gesture of +the young Spaniard; her fair hair, slightly touched with warm gold, +escaped in a few unruly curls from beneath the stiff coif of brocade +which encircled her pretty head.</p> + +<p>The neck was long; the shoulders, rich, young and firm, gleamed like +ivory beneath the primly folded kerchief of lace of a dead, bluish +white, a striking note of harmonious contrast.</p> + +<p>Have not all the rhymesters of the period sung the praises of her eyes? +What shall the poor chronicler add to these poetical effusions, save +that Ursula's eyes were as changeable in colour as were her moods, her +spirits, the expression of her face, and the inflexions of her voice.</p> + +<p>And then there was the proud little toss of the head, that contemptuous +curl of the lip which rendered her more desirable than any of her more +yielding companions.</p> + +<p>Indeed, Don Miguel felt in luck. His arm was still round her waist. He +felt the young figure stiffen beneath his admiring glances.</p> + +<p>The fair one was half mad with rage, and quite adorable in her wrath.</p> + +<p>"My lord Marquis, this is an outrage!" she said at last, "and here in +England——"</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_42" id="Page_42">[Pg 42]</a></span>"Nay, fair one," rejoined the Spaniard with a slight accent of irony, +"even in England, when two ladies, masked and alone, are held prisoners +at nightfall, and in a public place, by their ardent adorers, they must +needs pay ransom for their release. What say you, my lord?" he added, +turning gaily to where his friend held pretty Margaret a not too +unwilling prisoner.</p> + +<p>"'Tis but justice," assented Lord Everingham, "and yours the first +prize, Marquis. Fair one," he said, looking down into Margaret's shyly +terrified eyes, "wilt pay toll to me the while?"</p> + +<p>"Gentlemen!" proudly protested Lady Ursula, "an there's any honour in +you——"</p> + +<p>"Nay! honour lies in snatching a kiss from those sweet lips," rejoined +Don Miguel with a graceful flourish of his plumed hat.</p> + +<p>This act of gallantry, however, almost cost him the price of his +victory. Ursula Glynde, born and bred in the country, was the daughter +of a sturdy Cornish nobleman. Accustomed to ride untamed foals, to have +bouts at the broadsword or the poniard with the best man in the county, +she would not yield a kiss or own herself vanquished quite as readily as +the Spaniard seemed to expect.</p> + +<p>With a vigorous jerk of the body she had once more freed herself from +the Marquis's grasp, and running up to Margaret, she snatched her by the +hand and dragged her away from Lord Everingham, readjusting her hood and +mask as she flew towards the booth, vaguely hoping for shelter behind +the folds of the tent.</p> + +<p>But once more fate interposed relentlessly betwixt her and her attempts +at escape. Two gallants, seeing the episode, eager to have a hand in the +adventure, friends no doubt too of Don Miguel and Everingham, laughingly +barred the way to the steps, just as the two girls had con<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_43" id="Page_43">[Pg 43]</a></span>trived to +reach them. With a cry of disappointment Ursula, still dragging Margaret +after her, tried to double back. But it was too late. Don Miguel and +Lord Everingham were waiting for them on the other side. They were two +to one now, and all chances of escape had hopelessly vanished.</p> + +<p>Never had Ursula Glynde felt so mortified in her life.</p> + +<p>"Many thanks, gentlemen, for this timely interference," came in mocking +accents from that odious Spaniard. "The ransom, sweet one," he added, as +the chase 'twixt gallants and maids became more general, and the girls +at last felt themselves quite helpless and surrounded.</p> + +<p>Ursula's pride alone prevented her from bursting into tears.</p> + +<p>"By my faith! here is strange sport!" said a pleasant, slightly mocking +voice suddenly. "What say you, Harry Plantagenet? A lively sight . . . +what? . . . four gallants frightening two ladies!"</p> + +<p>Instinctively every one had turned in the direction whence the voice had +come. A man was standing some dozen yards away with mantle tightly drawn +round him, his tall figure stooping to pat and fondle a powerful-looking +boarhound, which clung closely to his side.</p> + +<p>He had spoken very quietly, apparently to the dog, whose great ears he +was gently stroking.</p> + +<p>Without taking any further heed of the somewhat discomfited gentlemen, +he came forward towards the little group.</p> + +<p>"Ladies, your way stands clear," he said, with that same pleasant irony +still apparent in his voice, and without casting more than a cursory +glance at the close hoods and dark masks, which was all that he could +see of the ladies, whom he had so incontinently saved from an unpleasant +position.</p> + +<p>"Sir," murmured Ursula, under her breath and without<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_539" id="Page_539">[Pg 539]</a></span> attempting to +move, for she felt as if her knees would give way under her.</p> + +<p>"Nay, Madam," rejoined the newcomer lightly, "if<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_540" id="Page_540">[Pg 540]</a></span> my interference has +angered you, I pray you forgive me and I'll withdraw, as these gentlemen +here obviously desire me to do. But an you really wish to escape, my +friend here will assure you that you can do so unmolested. . . . Eh, +Harry? what say you?" he added, once more turning his attention to the +dog.</p> + +<p>The boarhound, as if conscious of this appeal to his chivalry, turned a +knowing eye on the two girls.</p> + +<p>The four men had been taken so absolutely unawares that during the few +seconds while this brief colloquy took place they had scarcely realised +that an interfering and unknown stranger was trying to hamper them in +their amusements.</p> + +<p>They had remained quite speechless, more astonished at the newcomer's +impertinence than wrathful at the interruption; and when the next +instant Ursula and Margaret suddenly fled with unaffected precipitancy, +no one attempted to stop them.</p> + +<p>Harry Plantagenet's intelligent eyes followed the retreating figures +until they were out of sight. Then he yawned with obtrusive incivility, +and plainly showed his master that the present company no longer +interested him.</p> + +<p>"Well, Harry, old man, shall we go?" said the stranger, calmly turning +on his heel.</p> + +<p>But at this final piece of cool insolence Don Miguel de Suarez at last +recovered from his astonishment. This tame ending to an unwarrantable +intrusion was certainly not to his liking, and he, for one, was +unaccustomed to see his whims or caprices thwarted.</p> + +<p>In these days tempers ran high, hot blood was allowed free rein, and at +a word or a smile out of place, swords and poniards were soon out of +their sheaths and friendships of yesterday changed to deadly antagonism +in the space of a few minutes.</p> + +<p>"Carramba!" swore the young Spaniard, "this passes belief. What say you, +gentlemen?"</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_541" id="Page_541">[Pg 541]</a></span>And, drawing his long, tapering sword, he barred the way threateningly +to the stranger.</p> + +<p>The silence, thus broken, seemed to restore at once to the other three +gallants the full measure of their wrath. One and all following Don +Miguel's example, had put their hands to their sword-hilts.</p> + +<p>"Aye! unmask, stranger," said Lord Everingham peremptorily.</p> + +<p>"Unmask! unmask!" came in threatening accents from all.</p> + +<p>"Unmask, or . . ."</p> + +<p>"Or by our Lady!" rejoined the stranger lightly, "you'll all run your +blades into my silken doublet and thus end pleasantly a chivalrous +escapade. Eh?"</p> + +<p>One could divine the pleasant, ironical smile lurking behind the thick +curtain of the mask. The Spaniard's blood was boiling with vexation. +Harry Plantagenet gave an impatient whine.</p> + +<p>"Your name, stranger, first," commanded Don Miguel haughtily, "then your +sword if you are not a coward; after that I and these gentlemen will +deal with your impudence if you have any left."</p> + +<p>There was a moment's silence; the stranger whistled to his dog.</p> + +<p>"My sword is at your command," he said; "mine impudence you shall deal +with as you list. . . . My name is Wessex!" he added with a sudden +hauteur which seemed to tower above Don Miguel as the gigantic oak of +the glen towers above the bustling willow beneath.</p> + +<p>And he removed the mask from his face.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_46" id="Page_46">[Pg 46]</a></span></p> + +<h2 class="newchapter"><a name="CHAPTER_VII" id="CHAPTER_VII"></a>CHAPTER VII<br /> +<span class="smalltext">HIS GRACE OF WESSEX</span></h2> + + +<p>There are several portraits extant of Robert d'Esclade, fifth Duke of +Wessex, notably the one by Antonio Moro in the Pitti Gallery at +Florence.</p> + +<p>But in the somewhat stiff portraiture of that epoch it is perhaps a +little difficult to trace the real image, the inner individuality of one +of the most interesting personalities at the Court of Mary Tudor.</p> + +<p>There is, however, a miniature of him, attributed to Holbein, and +certainly drawn by the hand of a great master, which renders with +greater truth and loving accuracy the peculiar charm made up of +half-indolent nonchalance, gracious condescension, and haughty reserve +which characterized the Duke of Wessex.</p> + +<p>So justly styled His Grace!</p> + +<p>The reserve was so little apparent. The hauteur only came to the surface +in response to unwelcome familiarity. But the debonair indolence was +always there, the lazy droop of the lids, the nonchalant shrug of the +shoulders, when grave matters were discussed, and also that obvious +fastidiousness—a love of everything that was beautiful, from a fine +horse, down to a piece of delicate lace—which annoyed the more +sedate-minded courtiers of the Queen.</p> + +<p>And with it all that wonderful virility and vigour, that joy of life and +delight in gaiety and laughter which lent to the grave face at times a +spark of almost boyish exuber<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_47" id="Page_47">[Pg 47]</a></span>ance; that mad, merry, proud insouciance, +which throughout his life made him meet every danger—aye! every sorrow +and disgrace—with the same bright smile on his lips.</p> + +<p>Scheyfne, in his letters to the emperor, Charles V, says of the Duke of +Wessex that he was insufferably conceited—"il est tres orgueilleux de +sa beauté personelle, laquelle certes est plus que médiocre."</p> + +<p>Noailles, too, speaks of him as "moult fatueux et vaniteux de sa +personne."</p> + +<p>But it was hardly likely that these foreign delegates, each bent upon +their own schemes, would look with favour upon His Grace. His only merit +in their eyes was that same characteristic indolence of his, which +caused a man of his great wealth and boundless influence to abstain from +politics.</p> + +<p>Certes no one could accuse him of intriguing for his own political +advancement. Mary Tudor's own avowed penchant for him was so well known, +that he had but to say the word and the crown of England would be his, +to share with the Queen.</p> + +<p>Yet since the death of Edward VI he had not been seen at Court. Small +wonder, therefore, that at sight of the Duke all four men seemed amazed.</p> + +<p>"His Grace of Wessex!" they ejaculated in one breath.</p> + +<p>But already Lord Everingham had put up his sword and gone to Wessex with +hands outstretched.</p> + +<p>"Wessex!" he said with unmistakable delight. "By Our Lady, this is a +joyful surprise!"</p> + +<p>The other two Englishmen also shook the Duke warmly by the hand.</p> + +<p>"I did not know you were in England, my lord," said the one.</p> + +<p>"Right glad are we to welcome you back," added the other.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_48" id="Page_48">[Pg 48]</a></span>"Well, Harry, my friend," quoth the Duke gaily, "methinks you and I are +not to be spiked after all."</p> + +<p>Harry Plantagenet, however, was looking doubtfully at the young +Spaniard, who had remained somewhat in the background, regarding the +first effusions of his friends with a certain ill-concealed impatience. +With almost human intelligence the dog seemed to understand that here +was a person who was inimical to his master, and in his faithful eyes +there came that unmistakable furtive look and blink, with which dogs +invariably show their mistrust and dislike.</p> + +<p>But Don Miguel de Suarez was above all a diplomatist. Capricious and +fond of adventure, not over-scrupulous as to the choice of his +pleasures, yet he never allowed his dearest whim to interfere with +political necessities.</p> + +<p>A few seconds' quick reflection soon made it clear to him that a quarrel +with the Duke of Wessex would, at this juncture, greatly endanger his +own popularity at the English Court, and thereby minimize his chances of +carrying through the negotiations entrusted to him by King Philip of +Spain.</p> + +<p>Under the leadership of His Eminence the Cardinal de Moreno he certainly +hoped to bring about the marriage of Philip with the Queen of England.</p> + +<p>He knew perfectly well that he and his eminent colleague were opposed in +this design by the entire ultra-English faction here, and also that this +faction was composed of practically the whole of the nobility and +chivalry of the realm.</p> + +<p>The Duke of Wessex was the pride and hope of this party, for Courtenay, +weak and effeminate, had lost all his partisans. What more natural than +that the most distinguished, most brilliant of Queen Mary's subjects +should share her throne with her?</p> + +<p>All this and more passed swiftly through Don Miguel's active brain. +Therefore, as soon as there was a lull in the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_49" id="Page_49">[Pg 49]</a></span> joyful welcome accorded +to the Duke by his friends, he too stepped forward, having with vigorous +self-will curbed his unruly temper and forced his full, sensuous lips to +a smile. He had realized the expediency of, at any rate, outward +amiability.</p> + +<p>"A great name, my lord," he said, bowing with grave ceremony to Wessex, +"and one familiar to me already, though I have not yet been honoured by +seeing you at Court."</p> + +<p>The Duke eyed him for the space of two brief seconds, whilst just the +faintest touch of superciliousness seemed to be lurking somewhere at the +back of his neck. But he returned the Spaniard's bow with equal +ceremony. Then he placed his hand on the head of his dog.</p> + +<p>"Nay, sir," he said, "my friend here bears a prouder name than mine. +Harry Plantagenet, make your bow to the envoy of His Most Catholic +Majesty. I call him Plantagenet, sir, after our King Harry V, who drove +back the French at Agincourt. Nay, your pardon; this scarce interests +you. You were not born then, and Spain was not yet a kingdom."</p> + +<p>He spoke lightly, and none but Everingham's devoted ears caught the +slight tone of impertinence which underlay the bland, seemingly empty +speech.</p> + +<p>Don Miguel himself was determined to keep urbane.</p> + +<p>"A beautiful creature, indeed," he said suavely; "but you, milor Duke, +do you return to Hampton Court with us this night?"</p> + +<p>"Oh!" replied Wessex, "among so many brilliant diplomatists from Spain +there's scarce room for a mere idler like myself."</p> + +<p>"Yet we diplomatists are hoping to pit our poor wits against Your +Grace's," added Don Miguel pointedly.</p> + +<p>"Against those of my friends perhaps, my lord," rejoined the Duke drily. +"Mine own are incorrigibly idle."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_50" id="Page_50">[Pg 50]</a></span>Don Miguel, as was his wont, did not pursue the subject any further. He +was trying to read the refined, distinctly haughty countenance, which +was smiling down at him so pleasantly just now, and taking mental stock +of this antagonist, whom rumour had described to him and to his chief as +the only serious obstacle to the proposed Spanish alliance.</p> + +<p>He saw before him a man in the full pride of youth and manhood, tall and +well knit, and wearing with easy grace the elaborate slashes and puffs, +trunks and silk hose, which present fashion had decreed.</p> + +<p>The Spaniard's keen and critical eye took in every detail of this +interesting personality: the short, light brown hair worn close to the +head, the fair moustache and delicately refined hands, the richness of +the doublet, the priceless value of the lace at throat and wrist.</p> + +<p>"A fop and an idler!" he murmured mentally.</p> + +<p>Then he thought of the Queen of England. No longer young, with but +little taste in ornament and dress, and certes quite unversed in all +those wiles, which might have drawn this brilliant butterfly into her +net.</p> + +<p>The Spaniard longed to see these two together. The presence of this +formidable adversary gave additional zest to the game he was playing on +the political chess-board.</p> + +<p>An unwilling courtier! A love-sick Queen! Carramba! it was interesting.</p> + +<p>"When do you return to the Palace, my lord?" Everingham was asking of +the Duke.</p> + +<p>"To-night," replied the latter, "by our gracious Liege Lady's own +command."</p> + +<p>"To-night then?"</p> + +<p>"Without fail. Harry Plantagenet and I will present our humble respects +to Her Majesty."</p> + +<p>"'Tis au revoir then, Your Grace," quoth Don Miguel. "We meet again +to-night."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_51" id="Page_51">[Pg 51]</a></span>"At your service, my lord Marquis."</p> + +<p>Still smiling amicably the Spaniard took his leave, soon followed by two +of his companions. Lord Everingham too was about to depart, but he felt +Wessex' detaining hand on his arm.</p> + +<p>"That unpleasant-looking Spaniard? . . ." queried the Duke.</p> + +<p>"Don Miguel, Marquis de Suarez," replied Everingham, "envoy of His +Majesty, the King of Spain."</p> + +<p>"Aye, I knew all that. I was merely reflecting that if he happen to be a +specimen of our Liege Lady's Court, meseems I were a fool to go back to +it."</p> + +<p>"Come back to it with me now," urged his friend earnestly.</p> + +<p>"Not till to-night. Do not grudge me these few last hours of freedom. By +Our Lady! I meant to consult the famous witch, like a sober burgher out +on a holiday. But in the name of all the saints in the calendar let us +forget there are such things as Spaniards at the English Court just +now."</p> + +<p>He laughed, a half weary, wholly pleasant laugh, as, followed by his +dog, he led his friend in the opposite direction to that in which Don +Miguel had rapidly walked away.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_52" id="Page_52">[Pg 52]</a></span></p> + +<h2 class="newchapter"><a name="CHAPTER_VIII" id="CHAPTER_VIII"></a>CHAPTER VIII<br /> +<span class="smalltext">SILKEN BONDS</span></h2> + + +<p>Wessex and Everingham had readjusted their masks and wrapped their +cloaks around them, ere they once more mingled with the crowd which +still thronged around the gaily decked booths.</p> + +<p>The evening now was rapidly drawing in. Hampton Court, in the +fast-gathering haze beyond, looked grey and ghostlike, with brightly +illumined windows beginning to gleam here and there.</p> + +<p>With an impatient frown, Wessex deliberately turned his back on the +gorgeous pile: it represented boredom to him, politics and dullness, and +he loved gaiety, sunshine, and laughter, these merry-makers here, the +pretty country wenches with their bare arms and neat ankles showing +beneath their brightly coloured robes.</p> + +<p>Everingham was silent as he followed his friend through the crowd. But +Wessex' laugh was always infectious, and he seemed in a merry mood +to-night. Harry Plantagenet alone seemed morose; he disapproved of all +these country louts, who were over free with their caresses. He kept +close to his master's heel, and only gave an occasional growl, when some +impudent 'prentice dared to come too nigh.</p> + +<p>"Well, Harry, old friend," said the Duke after a while, "shall we go and +consult the witch, or wait until the stars are out? Friend Everingham +here is none too good company to-night, eh? In thine ear, proud +Plantagenet,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_53" id="Page_53">[Pg 53]</a></span> he hath designs on our freedom. But the soothsayer shall +cast our horoscope, and look into our future, see if you are to become +chief lapdog to the Queen of England, or if we are both of us to fall in +bondage to the mistress plighted to us by an uncomfortable old +gentleman, who had not consulted us in the matter. 'Sdeath man," he +added, suddenly looking straight into Everingham's serious face, "why do +you look so grave? Tell me, pending that witch's starlit lies, what's +your best news?"</p> + +<p>"By my faith!" responded Everingham simply, "the best news is Your +Grace's return. 'Twas an ill wind that wafted you away from Court."</p> + +<p>"Aye! 'twas the wind of infinite boredom wafted my Grace away," replied +the Duke with a smile. "Confess, friend, that the Court cannot be +alluring with the Queen telling her beads, the foreign ambassadors +ruling England, the Privy Council at loggerheads, the people grumbling, +and the ladies yawning. Brrr!"</p> + +<p>He gave a mock shiver, and seemed not to notice the quick look of +reproach cast at him by his friend.</p> + +<p>"And out of sheer boredom," quoth Everingham with a sigh of deep +disappointment, "you piqued the Queen of England."</p> + +<p>Wessex did not reply at once. At Everingham's tone of rebuke a slight +frown had contracted his forehead, and that certain look of hauteur, +never wholly absent from his face, at once became more apparent.</p> + +<p>There was more than mere camaraderie between these two men: unity of +thought, similarity of tastes and education, a great and overwhelming +love for their own country, together with mutual understanding and +appreciation, had long ago knit the ties of friendship closely between +them. It was generally admitted by every one that Lord Everingham might +venture on a ground of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_54" id="Page_54">[Pg 54]</a></span> familiarity with His Grace which no one else +quite dared to tread.</p> + +<p>This time too, after that instant's hesitation, the reserve which every +now and then seemed entirely to detach the Duke of Wessex from his +surroundings, quickly disappeared again. The pleasant smile returned to +the proud lips, he shrugged his shoulders and said simply—</p> + +<p>"Is the Queen of England piqued?"</p> + +<p>"Can you ask?" rejoined the other with increased vehemence.</p> + +<p>Then he checked himself abruptly, feeling no doubt how useless it was to +discuss such matters seriously just now.</p> + +<p>"The only woman," he added, falling in once more with his friend's +lighter mood, "the only woman whose blandishments His Grace of Wessex +has ever been known to resist."</p> + +<p>"And that with difficulty," concluded the Duke gaily. "But you see, +friend," he added with mock gravity, "with a Tudor you never can tell; +you might lose your heart one day and your head the next."</p> + +<p>"Mary Tudor loves you too well . . ." protested Lord Everingham.</p> + +<p>"She is the daughter of King Harry VIII, remember, and would threaten me +with the block or the rack at every indiscretion."</p> + +<p>He paused, then added quaintly—</p> + +<p>"And I would commit so many."</p> + +<p>"A woman who loves always forgives," urged his friend.</p> + +<p>"A woman, my good Everingham, will forgive a grave infidelity—perhaps! +but not a number of little indiscretions. Mine," he added with a light +sigh, "would be the little indiscretions."</p> + +<p>"And while you fled from Court the Queen of England has almost promised +to wed the Spanish king," said Everingham bitterly.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_55" id="Page_55">[Pg 55]</a></span>He watched his friend keenly as he spoke and paused a moment before he +added pointedly—</p> + +<p>"'Twill be a proud day for the peers of England when they bow the knee +to their Liege Lord, a foreign king."</p> + +<p>Wessex shrugged his broad shoulders and turned to where a pretty wench, +dispensing ale to a scarlet-cloaked burgher, formed a picture pleasing +to his artistic eye.</p> + +<p>Everingham, somewhat proud of his own diplomatic skill, had noted, +however, a certain stiffening of His Grace's figure at the vision which +had been conjured before him.</p> + +<p>That of a Wessex bending the knee before a Spaniard.</p> + +<p>"You were away," continued Everingham, eager to goad his friend into +speech, "and my Lord Cardinal and Don Miguel know how to blow upon the +flames of Mary's jealousy. Your influence can still save England, my +lord," he added with great earnestness, "let not your enemies say that +fear of a woman keeps you from exerting it."</p> + +<p>"H'm! do they say that?" mused Wessex quaintly, whilst a smile, which +almost might be called boyish, altered the whole expression of his +serious face. "By my faith! but they are right. One's enemies usually +are."</p> + +<p>He drew his friend away from the immediate vicinity of a jabbering +crowd, into a dark corner formed by one of the booths. Everingham, +thinking that at last he had led Wessex into a graver train of thought, +failed to notice the humorous twinkle of the eyes which had so palpably +struggled to the surface.</p> + +<p>"It is the fear of a woman has kept me away from Court," he whispered +solemnly, "but that woman is not the Queen of England."</p> + +<p>"Who is it then?"</p> + +<p>"In your ear, friend . . . 'tis the Lady Ursula Glynde."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_56" id="Page_56">[Pg 56]</a></span>Everingham could scarce suppress a movement of intense satisfaction. +Lady Ursula! beautiful, exquisite Lady Ursula was the one +stumbling-block on which the schemes of his faction might become +hopelessly shattered.</p> + +<p>Wessex was nominally plighted to the lady. True, 'twas an engagement +undertaken by the lady's own father, without the consent of the parties +chiefly concerned. But in Tudor England there was a curious adherence to +such solemnly plighted troths, which might have proved a bar to the +Duke's sense of absolute freedom.</p> + +<p>If, however, he looked upon this unnatural and monstrous pledge with the +lightness which it fully deserved, if he considered himself at liberty +to break the imaginary bonds which held him to Lady Ursula, then the +work of his partisans would become comparatively easy.</p> + +<p>They had always hoped and fully intended to overcome His Grace's +scruples in the matter, and fondly thought that they would succeed. But +since the Duke himself looked indifferently upon this so-called troth, +why, Everingham himself was the first to feel the keenest satisfaction +at the thought.</p> + +<p>"You dislike the lady then?" he asked with unfeigned delight.</p> + +<p>"I have never seen her," retorted Wessex placidly. "At any rate, not +since she was in her cradle. I certainly didn't like her then."</p> + +<p>"She is very beautiful," remarked Everingham, with a somewhat shamefaced +recollection of his previous adventure, "but——"</p> + +<p>"She might be a veritable angel, yet she would frighten me."</p> + +<p>A mock shudder passed through his tall, athletic frame, and taking his +friend's arm in his, he whispered confidentially, "Think of it, my lord! +A woman whom duty <i>compels</i> one to love—Brrr!—Her own father plighted +our<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_57" id="Page_57">[Pg 57]</a></span> troth; I am left comparatively free, yet if I do not wed Lady +Ursula, she is doomed to end her days in a convent. . . . A matter of +honour—what? . . . Yet I—I, who could love any woman," he added +emphatically, "be she queen or peasant—that is—h'm!—if I were really +put to it—find the very thought of my promised bride abhorrent. She is +the one woman in all the world whom I could never love—never! . . . I +know it! So I ran away from Court, not because I feared one woman loved +me too much, but because I knew I should love one woman too little."</p> + +<p>He had spoken so light-heartedly, so gaily, that in spite of the grave +issues at stake Everingham could not help but laugh.</p> + +<p>"Nay! perhaps you exaggerate the danger," he said. "The Lady Ursula +might prefer the convent to being a duchess. She has never seen Your +Grace, she is rich and high-born, she may be pious——"</p> + +<p>"Or perverse," responded Wessex. "I've never met a woman yet who didn't +want—badly—the thing she mightn't get."</p> + +<p>"Is England then a woman," queried Everingham with renewed earnestness, +"since she wants Wessex?"</p> + +<p>But the Duke was not prepared to follow his friend to-night into +sentimental, ultra-patriotic bypaths. He was not altogether inclined to +sacrifice his liberty for the sake of ousting the Spanish king from his +proposed English throne.</p> + +<p>Nevertheless he rejoined more gravely than was his wont.</p> + +<p>"Does England really want me?" he said with gentle irony. "Nay!" he +added, restraining with one hand Everingham's exuberant protests, "I +know! I know! you all think so, and that I am an unhallowed idler, +letting my country drift into the arms of the foreigner. Do not deny it, +friend. . . . Perhaps I am. . . . Nay! we'll say,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_58" id="Page_58">[Pg 58]</a></span> indeed I am. . . . +There! there! calm your fears. Have I not told you that Her Majesty hath +commanded my presence at Court? We'll set our poor wits to oust Spanish +diplomacy, and I must trust my luckiest star to inspire in the Lady +Ursula a wholesome desire for the convent; for I tell thee, friend, that +if she holds me to my silken bonds, I will at once repair to the +outermost corner of the earth and thence drop into vacancy, or take +flight to the blue dome of heaven above."</p> + +<p>"God protect Your Grace," rejoined Everingham with grave solemnity. "Ah! +I fear no Spanish influence now," he added enthusiastically. "You'll +save England, my lord, and the gratitude of the nation will be at your +feet."</p> + +<p>Wessex smiled, shrugged his shoulders, and without further allusion to +more serious subjects the two men mingled once more among the crowd.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_59" id="Page_59">[Pg 59]</a></span></p> + +<h2 class="newchapter"><a name="CHAPTER_IX" id="CHAPTER_IX"></a>CHAPTER IX<br /> +<span class="smalltext">THE VEILED WITCH</span></h2> + + +<p>Outside the witch's tent all was silent and deserted. Darkness had +gradually crept in, and with it—as far as the rest of the Fair was +concerned—additional noise and exuberant gaiety.</p> + +<p>Huge torches of gum and resin flickered at the entrance of every booth, +throwing quaint red lights, and deep, mysterious shadows all round, +distorting the faces of the gaping multitude, and of the criers, until +they looked like fantastic figures, wizards all from some neighbouring +Brocken.</p> + +<p>Whether the world-famous necromancer, Mirrab, and her attendant genii +were lacking in business or no, no one could say, for there was no torch +outside their tent, and Abra had ceased to lure the passer-by. The open +place in front of the platform was dark and still.</p> + +<p>Suddenly from out the shadows something seemed to move forward, whilst a +mysterious "Hist! hist!" came echoing from more than one direction.</p> + +<p>Gradually the sound became more distinct, dark figures emerged from +every side, and presently a compact group of moving, whispering people +congregated some few yards away from the booth. Then a voice, still low +and muffled, but firm and emphatic, detached itself from the ghostlike +murmur around.</p> + +<p>"My masters, I call upon you to witness! . . . The Scriptures say, 'Let +no witch live.' . . . Shall we disobey<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_60" id="Page_60">[Pg 60]</a></span> the Scriptures and allow that +witch to live? . . . She is possessed, and the devil dwells in that +booth."</p> + +<p>Groans and threatening curses greeted this peroration. The speaker +raised his voice somewhat.</p> + +<p>"Will you allow Satan to remain amongst you?"</p> + +<p>"No! no! no!" came in excited accents from the little crowd.</p> + +<p>"And I say death to the witch!" added the leading voice solemnly.</p> + +<p>"Death to the witch!" came in weird echoes from all around.</p> + +<p>Then there was silence. The dark heads bent closer together.</p> + +<p>"What wilt thou do, Matthew?" whispered one voice with awed timidity.</p> + +<p>"Let her burn, I say," replied the learned village oracle; "'tis the +only way of getting rid of Satan."</p> + +<p>It had been a hot day. The heads of this pack of country folk had been +overheated with sack and spiced ale; an unreasoning, maniacal terror, +with superstition for its basis, had completed the work of completely +addling their loutish brains. All day there had been talk of this veiled +witch, these strange spirits and weird monsters which she was reputed to +conjure up at will. Thoughts of poisoned wells, of sweating sickness, of +hell-fire raged through these poor misguided fellows' minds.</p> + +<p>What did they know of charlatanism or trickery? To them it was all real, +living, awesome, terrible. The devil was a person with glowing eyes, two +horns, and a forked tail, who caused innocent people to fall flat on +their backs and foam at the mouth.</p> + +<p>Every malady then unknown to science was ascribed to hellish agency. And +here, within a few yards, was an unearthly creature who actually +consorted with the creator of all evil, who wilfully brought him up from +his<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_61" id="Page_61">[Pg 61]</a></span> burning abode below the earth, and let him loose upon this peaceful +village and its God-fearing inhabitants.</p> + +<p>"Nay! burn her! burn her!" they shouted, brandishing their sticks, +emboldened through their very cowardice into deeds they would otherwise +never have contemplated without a shudder.</p> + +<p>And they shouted in order to keep up their exaltation and their +excitement; the devil is known to favour whisperings.</p> + +<p>"After me, my masters," continued Matthew, who was still the leader of +this insane band of mischievous fools, "after me. Remember there's +salvation for our sins if we burn the witch."</p> + +<p>With another wild shout the little crowd made a rush for the platform of +the booth, just as Abra and his henchman, attracted by the strangeness +of the noise, came out of the tent to see what might be amiss.</p> + +<p>Before they had time to utter a sound of protest the two men were seized +by the crowd and dragged down the steps with violence. The people had no +time to trouble about a lout such as he. They wanted the witch herself, +now, at once, while their blood was up and boiling; and the guard might +come round at any moment and frustrate them in their will.</p> + +<p>"Out of the way, lout! out of the way! or thou'lt burn alongside of thy +damned witch!"</p> + +<p>Abra had fallen on his knees, understanding only too well the danger +which was threatening him. He had known all along what terrible risks he +was taking. 'Twas not well in these days to tamper with the +supernatural. But he had trusted to the good temper of holiday-makers, +whilst the certain patronage of rich burghers and Court gallants had +proved an overwhelming temptation to his greed of gain. For the wench he +cared but little. He had picked her out of the gutter one day, a +starving little<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_62" id="Page_62">[Pg 62]</a></span> slut, and had used her as a tool—a willing one +enough—for his own pecuniary ends.</p> + +<p>Even now, with a cursing throng of maniacs round him, he only thought of +his own safety. Mean, abject, and cowardly, he fell upon his knees.</p> + +<p>"Merciful heavens, my masters," he pleaded.</p> + +<p>But the crowd was not in a humour to listen. The men kicked him on one +side, and he fell up against his miserable companion, who was too +terror-stricken to move.</p> + +<p>Then there was another rush up to the platform. Without thought or +pause, for these would have been fatal to the resolute purpose in view, +and might give the devil time to look after his own.</p> + +<p>From within the tent there came now a frantic shriek of terror. The next +moment, the foremost among the crowd had pushed aside the gaudy +draperies, and that one shriek was answered by a dozen awesome, +horrified curses.</p> + +<p>There was the witch at last. A poor trembling girl, scarce out of her +teens, with beautiful, delicate features, and an abundance of golden +hair falling round her shoulders; her mysterious veil—a bit of showy +tinsel—lying in a heap on the floor. Nothing supernatural or devilish +about her, surely. Quaint, perhaps, because of that singular beauty of +face and skin which seemed so ill-assorted with the sordidness of her +surroundings. One of Nature's curious freaks, this kitchen wench with a +head which would have graced a duchess, her interesting personality +merely the prey of a common charlatan, who used her for vulgar, +senseless trickery.</p> + +<p>For the moment her beauty was distorted through the dawning of an awful +terror. To a sane man she would only have seemed a wretched, miserable, +frightened woman. But not so to the ale-sodden, overheated minds of +these excited creatures, blinded by an almost maniacal fear.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_63" id="Page_63">[Pg 63]</a></span>To them she looked supernaturally tall, supernaturally weird, with great +glowing eyes and tongues of flame illumining her person.</p> + +<p>"The witch!" they shouted, "the witch! the witch!"</p> + +<p>"What do you want with me?" murmured the poor girl.</p> + +<p>Egged on by their passions they smothered their terror. They seized her +violently by the wrists and dragged her out of her lair and on to the +platform, where the rest of the crowd were pressing.</p> + +<p>A shout of exultation, of hellish triumph, greeted the appearance of the +wretched woman. Not a spark of pity was aroused by her helplessness, her +obvious, abject terror.</p> + +<p>"The witch! the witch! death to the witch!"</p> + +<p>They seemed to be fanning their own passions, adding fuel to the flames +of their insensate wrath.</p> + +<p>There was the source of all the evil which might have befallen the +peaceful valley of the Thames! the creature with the evil eye, the +dispenser of misery and death!</p> + +<p>They had forgotten the guard now. Their lawlessness knew no bounds. But +for the incessant din of the merry-makers at the Fair, the banging of +the drums, and the shouts of the criers, their own yells of execration, +their violent curses, and the shrieks of the captive girl could not have +failed to attract attention.</p> + +<p>But every one was busy laughing and enjoying the last hours of this +happy day. No one came to interfere in this devilish work which was +about to be consummated.</p> + +<p>And every word the poor woman uttered but brought further vituperation +upon her.</p> + +<p>She shouted, "Help!"</p> + +<p>"Hark, my masters," sneered Matthew loftily, "she calls to Satan for +help."</p> + +<p>"What will you do with me?" she pleaded. "I've done you no wrong."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_64" id="Page_64">[Pg 64]</a></span>"Thou hast brought the devil in our midst."</p> + +<p>"No! no!"</p> + +<p>"I saw thee riding on a broomstick—going to thy Sabbath revels."</p> + +<p>"'Tis false!"</p> + +<p>"Tie her to the pole—quick!"</p> + +<p>The so-called witch, the friend of Satan and of all the powers of +darkness, fell upon her knees in an agony of the wildest despair. +Realizing her position, the terrible doom which was awaiting her, her +whole figure seemed to writhe with the agony of her horror. She dragged +herself to Matthew's knees—he seemed to be leading the others—she +wrenched her arms free from those who held her and threw them round him. +She forced her voice to gentleness and pleading, tried to appeal to what +was a stone wall of unconquerable prejudice.</p> + +<p>"Sirs, kind sirs," she entreated, "you would not harm a poor girl who +had done you no wrong? . . . you won't harm me—you won't. . . . Oh, +God!" she shrieked in her frenzy, "you wouldn't—you wouldn't—Holy +Virgin, protect me——"</p> + +<p>A rough hand was placed over her mouth and her last yells were smothered +as she was ruthlessly dragged away.</p> + +<p>Then with two or three leather belts she was securely tied to the +flagstaff, whilst a thick woollen scarf was wound round her face and +neck, leaving only the eyes free to roam wildly on the awful scene +around.</p> + +<p>Awful indeed!</p> + +<p>Man turned to savage beast in the frenzy of his own fear.</p> + +<p>Swift and silent, like so many rodents in the night, the men began +collecting bits of wood, broke up their sticks into small pieces, tore +branches down from the old elm tree.</p> + +<p>Matthew the while, still the ringleader of this dastardly crew, was +directing these gruesome operations.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_65" id="Page_65">[Pg 65]</a></span>"Hist!" he admonished incessantly, "not so much noise. . . . We don't +want the guard to come this way, do we? . . . Now, John the smith, +quick, where's thy resin? . . . James the wheelwright, thy tinder, +friend. . . . Here! these faggots are not close enough. . . . Some more +on the left there!"</p> + +<p>And the men, as alert as their clumsy bodies would allow, as quick as +the darkness would permit, groaning, sweating, falling up against one +another, worked with a will to accomplish the end which they had in +view.</p> + +<p>To burn the witch!</p> + +<p>And she, the woman, her poor wits almost gone at sight of this fast +approaching, inevitable doom, did not attempt to struggle. Had the gag +been removed from her mouth she would not have uttered a sound.</p> + +<p>Nature, more merciful than her own children, had paralysed the brain of +the wretched girl and left her semi-imbecile, crazed, watching now with +uncomprehending eyes the preparations for her own appalling death.</p> + +<p>"Watch how the witch will burn!" said Matthew in a hoarse whisper. "Her +soul will fly out of her mouth, and it'll be shaped like a black cat."</p> + +<p>They had all descended the steps and were standing in a semicircle on +the turf below, looking up at the miserable holocaust which they were +about to offer up to their own cowardly superstition.</p> + +<p>James the wheelwright was busy with his tinder, with John the smith +bending over him, ready with a resin torch, which would start the +conflagration.</p> + +<p>And Mirrab, looking down on them with lack-lustre, idiotic eyes! Her +body had fallen in a strange, shapeless heap across the leather bonds +which held her, her feet were buried in the pile of faggots, whilst her +fingers worked convulsively behind the flagstaff to which they were +tied.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_66" id="Page_66">[Pg 66]</a></span>Ye gods, what a spectacle!</p> + +<p>The Duke of Wessex, having taken leave of his friend, had been idly +strolling towards the witch's booth, always closely followed by faithful +Harry Plantagenet. At first sight of a group of men dimly outlined in +the darkness he scarcely realized what was happening.</p> + +<p>The fitful flicker of the torch, as the resin became ignited, threw the +more distant figure of the woman into complete gloom.</p> + +<p>Then there was a sudden shout of triumph. The torch was blazing at last.</p> + +<p>"The holy fire! . . . Burn the witch!"</p> + +<p>John the smith, holding the torch aloft, inspired by the enthusiasm of +his friends, had turned towards the steps.</p> + +<p>For the space of one second the red glow illumined that helpless bundle +of gaudy tinsel only dimly suggesting a woman's form beneath it, which +hung limply from the flagstaff.</p> + +<p>Then Wessex understood.</p> + +<p>He had already drawn nigh, attracted by idle curiosity, but now with one +bound he reached the steps. Striking out with his fists at two or three +men who barred the way, he suddenly stood confronting these miscreants, +the light of the torch glowing on the rich silk of his doublet, the +jewelled agraffe of his hat, his proud, serious face almost distorted by +overwhelming wrath.</p> + +<p>"What damnable piece of mischief is this?" he said peremptorily.</p> + +<p>He had scarcely raised his voice, for they were all silent, having +retreated somewhat at sight of this stranger who barred the way.</p> + +<p>The instinct of submission and deference to the lord was inborn in the +country lout of these days. Their first movement was one of respectful +awe. But this was only<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_67" id="Page_67">[Pg 67]</a></span> momentary. The excitement was too great, too +real, to give way to this gallant, alone with only an elegant sword to +stand between him and the mad desire for the witch's death.</p> + +<p>"Out of the way, stranger!" shouted Matthew lustily from the rear of the +group, "this is no place for fine gentlemen. Up with thy torch, John the +smith! No one interferes here!"</p> + +<p>"No! no! forward, John the smith!" exclaimed the others as with one +voice.</p> + +<p>But John the smith, torch in hand, could not very well advance. The fine +gentleman was standing on the steps above him with a long pointed sword +in his hand.</p> + +<p>"The first one of you who sets foot on these steps is a dead man," he +had said as soon as the shouts had subsided.</p> + +<p>John the smith did not altogether care to be that notable first.</p> + +<p>"Here! Harry, old friend," added the Duke, calling his dog to his side, +"you see these miscreants there, when I say 'Go!' you have my permission +to spring at the throat of the man who happens to be on these steps at +the time."</p> + +<p>Harry Plantagenet no doubt understood what was expected of him. His +great jaws were slightly open, showing a powerful set of very +unpleasant-looking teeth; otherwise for the moment he looked placid +enough. He stood at the very top of the steps, his head on a level with +his master's shoulder, and was wagging his tail in a pleasant, friendly +spirit.</p> + +<p>Matthew, however, had, not unjustly up to now, earned the respect of his +friends. Whilst John the smith was still hesitating, he had already made +a quick mental calculation that one Court gallant and his dog could be +no real match against five-and-twenty lusty fellows with hard fists, who +were determined to get their own way.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_68" id="Page_68">[Pg 68]</a></span>He elbowed his way to the front, pushed the smith aside, and began +peremptorily—</p> + +<p>"Stranger!——"</p> + +<p>"Call me not stranger, dolt, I am the Duke of Wessex, and if thou dost +not immediately betake thyself elsewhere, I'll have thee whipped till +thou bleed. Now then, ye louts!" he added, addressing the now paralysed +group of men, "off with your caps in my presence—quick's the word!"</p> + +<p>There was dead silence, broken only by an occasional groan of real, +tangible fright.</p> + +<p>"The Duke of Wessex! Merciful heavens! he'll have us all hanged!" +murmured Matthew as he fell on his knees.</p> + +<p>One by one, still in complete silence, the caps were doffed. His Grace +of Wessex! Future King of England mayhap! And they had dared to threaten +him!</p> + +<p>"Holy Virgin protect the lot of us!"</p> + +<p>One man, more alert than his fellows, well in the rear of the group, +began crawling away on hands and knees, hoping to escape unobserved. One +or two saw his intention and immediately followed him. John the smith +had already dropped his torch, which lay smouldering on the ground.</p> + +<p>There was a distinct movement in the direction of general retreat.</p> + +<p>"Well," laughed the Duke good-naturedly, "have you done enough mischief? +. . . Get ye gone, all of you!—or shall I have to call the guard and +have you all whipped for a set of dastardly cowards, eh? . . . Or better +still, hanged, as your leader and friend here suggests—what?"</p> + +<p>They had no need to be told twice. Still silently they picked up their +caps, one or two of them scratched their addled pates. They were ashamed +and really frightened, and had quite forgotten all about the witch.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_69" id="Page_69">[Pg 69]</a></span>There's nothing like real, personal danger to allay imaginary terrors. +The devil was all very well, but he was a long way off, and for the +moment invisible, whilst His Grace of Wessex was really there, and he +was—well! he was His Grace of Wessex, and that's all about it.</p> + +<p>One by one they edged away, and the darkness soon swallowed them up. The +Duke never moved until the last of them had gone, leaving only Abra and +his henchman cowering in terror beside the platform.</p> + +<p>From behind a bank of clouds the pale, crescent moon suddenly emerged +and threw a faint silvery light on the now deserted scene of the +dastardly outrage.</p> + +<p>"Well, Harry, my friend, I think that's the last of them . . ." said +Wessex lightly as he finally put up his sword and mounted the steps to +the platform.</p> + +<p>Mirrab's long strands of golden hair hung like a veil over her face and +breast; she had straightened herself out somewhat, but her head was +still bent. Her tottering reason was very slowly and gradually returning +to her.</p> + +<p>She did not even move whilst Wessex undid the leather belts which tied +her to the flagstaff, and with his heel kicked the faggots to one side. +She seemed as unconscious now of her safety as she had been a short +while ago of her impending doom.</p> + +<p>As her last bonds were severed she fell like a shapeless bundle on her +knees.</p> + +<p>He never looked at her. What was she but a poor tattered wreck of +humanity, whom his timely interference had saved from an appalling +death? But he was very sorry for her, because she was a woman, and had +just gone through indescribable sufferings; in that gentle, impersonal +pity, there was no room for the mere curiosity to know what she was +like.</p> + +<p>Before he finally turned to go, he placed a well-filled<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_70" id="Page_70">[Pg 70]</a></span> purse on the +ground, not far from where she was cowering, and said very kindly—</p> + +<p>"Take my advice, girl, and do not get thyself into any more mischief of +this sort. Next time there might be no one nigh to get thee out of +trouble. Come, Harry," he added, calling to his dog, "time is getting +late."</p> + +<p>At the foot of the steps he came across the shrinking forms of Abra and +his companion. The Duke paused for a moment and said more sternly—</p> + +<p>"As for thee, sirrah, get thee gone, bag and baggage, thy tents and thy +trickeries, before the night is half an hour older. The guard shall be +sent to protect thee; but if thou art still here an hour hence, those +sobered ruffians will have returned, and nothing'll save thee and thy +wench a second time."</p> + +<p>He waited for no protestations from the abject wizard, and turned his +steps towards the river.</p> + +<p>As he was crossing the open space, however, he suddenly felt a tight +grip on his cloak; he turned, yet could see nothing, for the capricious +moon had once more hidden her light behind a passing cloud, and the +darkness, by contrast, seemed all the more intense.</p> + +<p>But he heard a sound which was very like a sob, and then a murmur which +had a curious ring of passion in it—</p> + +<p>"Thou hast saved my life . . . 'tis thine . . . I give it thee! . . . +Henceforth, whene'er I read the starlit firmament I'll pray to God that +the most glorious star in heaven shall guide thy destiny!"</p> + +<p>He gave a pleasant laugh, gently disengaged his cloak, and without +another word went his way.</p> + +<hr class="wide" /> + +<h2><a name="PART_II" id="PART_II"></a>PART II<br /> +<span class="smalltext">THE LADY URSULA</span></h2> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_73" id="Page_73">[Pg 73]</a></span></p> + +<h2 class="newchapter"><a name="CHAPTER_X" id="CHAPTER_X"></a>CHAPTER X<br /> +<span class="smalltext">A BEVY OF FAIR MAIDENS</span></h2> + + +<p>Never in all her life had Her Grace of Lincoln experienced anything so +awful.</p> + +<p>Her very coif, usually a pattern of propriety, looked awry and scarcely +sober on her dear old head, whilst her round, chubby face, a beautiful +forest of tangled wrinkles, expressed the most dire distress, coupled +with hopeless, pathetic bewilderment.</p> + +<p>"Well?" she repeated over and over again in breathless eagerness.</p> + +<p>She seemed scarce to notice the pretty picture before her—two young +girls standing with arms linked round one another's waists, eyes aglow +with excitement, and cheeks made rosy with the palpitating intensity of +the narrative.</p> + +<p>Yet was not Her Grace justly proud of the flock of fair maids committed +to her charge? What more charming than these two specimens of austere +Queen Mary's dainty maids-of-honour, with their slim figures in the +stiff corsets and unwieldy farthingales, their unruly curls held in +becomingly by delicate lace coifs, and the sombre panelling of the room +throwing up in harmonious contrast the vivid colouring of robes and +kerchiefs, of lace and of complexion?</p> + +<p>But to-day the Duchess of Lincoln had no eye for the charming sight. +Leaning well forward in her high, straight-backed chair, her fat, +be-ringed fingers were beating a veritable devil's tattoo against its +brocaded arms.</p> + +<p>"Alicia, girl, why don't you go on?" she added im<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_74" id="Page_74">[Pg 74]</a></span>patiently. "La! I vow +the wench'll make me die of choler."</p> + +<p>Alicia, in the eagerness of telling her thrilling story, had somewhat +lost her breath; but now she made a vigorous effort to resume.</p> + +<p>"Well," she said, "Your Grace must remember the night was very dark. +Barbara and I were strolling by the low wall, when suddenly the clouds +parted, the river was flooded with light, and just below us, not ten +paces away, we saw——"</p> + +<p>But here she broke off suddenly. A look of genuine distress crossed her +piquant little face; she looked inquiringly at her companion, then at +the Duchess, whilst her merry eyes began to fill with tears.</p> + +<p>"Oh! I scarce like to repeat it," she said hesitatingly at last, "for +truly I love her so."</p> + +<p>But Her Grace was in no mood to pander to girlish sentimentality just +now. Her small round eyes, usually alive with good-nature and +kindliness, were looking positively stern.</p> + +<p>"Go on, child," she commanded, "cannot you see that I am verily sitting +on pins? Was it—was it the Lady Ursula you saw?"</p> + +<p>"Nay, madam," protested Alicia feebly, "'twas Barbara saw her—I do not +believe that it was Ursula."</p> + +<p>"She was wrapped in a dark cloak from head to foot," here interposed the +other young maid. "When we called she looked up, but, seeing us, +immediately fled along the bank."</p> + +<p>"Then the clouds obscured the moon again, and we saw nothing more," +resumed Alicia. "Barbara may have been mistaken."</p> + +<p>Barbara nodded, quite longing to convince herself that she had indeed +been mistaken. The two girls were getting more and more confused. +Clearly they had no wish to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_75" id="Page_75">[Pg 75]</a></span> get their absent friend into trouble, and, +having been led into relating their experiences of the night before, +they tardily realized that they were collecting storm-clouds over Lady +Ursula's unsuspecting head.</p> + +<p>With all her good-nature the Duchess was a stern disciplinarian, taking +herself and her duties very seriously. When the Queen entrusted her with +the formation of her own immediate feminine entourage, she also +expressed a desire that her maids-of-honour and ladies-in-waiting should +be models of decorum and veritable patterns of all the virtues.</p> + +<p>The Court, which had been little else than a name in the old and gloomy +palace of Richmond and the simple household at Esher, had seen some of +its old glories revived since Mary's proclamation as sole and royal +liege lady, Queen Sovereign of England.</p> + +<p>Before and since the coronation, Hampton Court had once more become +alive with merriment and laughter, with tennis and bowling games, +jousts, suppers, and balls even, as in the best days of King Harry. +Young people, who had been only temporarily sobered through the raging +political conflicts of the past few months, quickly reasserted their +desire for gaiety and splendour, and the Queen herself, somewhat +softened with the joy of seeing England's loyalty towards her, tacitly +acquiesced in this return to the ancient magnificence of her father's +court.</p> + +<p>Moreover, there were the foreign ambassadors to entertain, all eager to +secure the Queen's hand for their respective royal masters, and in the +meanwhile equally ready to be impressed with the luxuries of the English +Court and the beauty and grace of its ladies.</p> + +<p>The Duchess of Lincoln's task was certes no easy one, since it involved +the keeping in order of a very attractive, pleasure-loving, highly +unruly little flock.</p> + +<p>So far, however, nothing serious had occurred to disturb<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_76" id="Page_76">[Pg 76]</a></span> her +equanimity. The maids-of-honour placed under her charge had quickly +succumbed to the charm of Her Grace's kindliness, and were easily ruled +with the rod of good-nature.</p> + +<p>Some scoldings and lectures, an admonition now and then, or a threat of +more severe punishment, had readily quelled any incipient +insubordination.</p> + +<p>But since the arrival of Lady Ursula Glynde at the Palace matters had +become more serious. The child was so terribly independent, so +self-willed and unruly, and with it all so sweet and lovable, that the +Duchess found all her scoldings of absolutely no avail.</p> + +<p>Ursula defied her, then kissed and fondled her, rendering her absolutely +helpless and defying her authority.</p> + +<p>When it was discovered that the naughty child had, on the very day +following Her Majesty's coronation, visited East Molesey Fair, masked +and veiled, and attended only by weak-willed, silly Margaret Cobham, Her +Grace felt nigh to having the palsy. But even that unseemly escapade was +nothing in comparison with the terrible revelations which had recently +come to Her Grace's ears. One or two rumours had already gained currency +that one of Her Majesty's maids-of-honour had been seen alone and at +night outside the purlieus of the Palace. So far, fortunately, the Queen +knew nothing of this, nor had it been talked about among the gentlemen +of the Court.</p> + +<p>Heavens above! if such a thing were to happen! . . .</p> + +<p>"A scandal!" moaned the Duchess piteously, "a scandal in my department! +Oh, I shall never survive it! If Her Majesty should hear of it, who is +so austere, so pious! . . . And with my lord Cardinal staying in the +Palace just now. . . . What would he think of the morals of an English +Court! . . . Oh! the naughty, wicked child, thus to bring disgrace upon +us all."</p> + +<p>Some of the rumours anent Lady Ursula's mysterious<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_77" id="Page_77">[Pg 77]</a></span> nightly wanderings +had already reached her; she had placed the other girls under severe +cross-examination, and finally elicited from them the confirmation of +her worst fears.</p> + +<p>"Nay, madam," rejoined Alicia, tardily smitten with remorse, "I feel +sure she means no harm. Ursula is gay, a madcap, full of fun, but she is +too proud to stoop to an intrigue."</p> + +<p>"Aye! but, child, she hath vanity," said the Duchess, shaking her grey +curls, "and vanity is an evil counsellor. And, remember, 'tis not the +first time she has been seen alone, at night, outside the purlieus of +the garden. The Lord protect us! I should never survive a scandal."</p> + +<p>"An Your Grace would believe me," added Barbara consolingly, "I think +'tis but a bit of foolish curiosity on the Lady Ursula's part."</p> + +<p>But Her Grace would not be consoled.</p> + +<p>"Curiosity?" she said. "Alas! 'tis an evil moment when curiosity leads a +maiden out of doors at night . . . alone . . . Oh!"</p> + +<p>And she made a gesture of such horror, there was such a look of stern +condemnation in her kind old face, that the two girls began to feel +really afraid as to what might befall that madcap, Ursula Glynde.</p> + +<p>No one had ever seen the Duchess actually angry.</p> + +<p>They were all ready to take up the cudgels for the absent girl now.</p> + +<p>"Nay! 'tis harmless curiosity enough," said Alicia hotly. "Ursula is +being very badly treated."</p> + +<p>"Badly treated!" exclaimed Her Grace.</p> + +<p>"Aye! she is affianced to the Duke of Wessex."</p> + +<p>"Well, and what of it, child?"</p> + +<p>"What of it?" retorted the girl indignantly, "she is never allowed to +see him. The moment His Grace is expected to arrive in the Queen's +presence, 'tis—'Lady<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_78" id="Page_78">[Pg 78]</a></span> Ursula, you may retire. I shall not need your +services to-day.'"</p> + +<p>And looking straight down her pretty nose, dainty Lady Alicia Wrenford +pursed her lips and put on the starchy airs of a soured matron of forty.</p> + +<p>The Duchess of Lincoln threw up her hands in horror.</p> + +<p>"Fie on you, child!" she said sternly, "mimicking Her Majesty."</p> + +<p>"'Tis quite true what Alicia says," here interposed Barbara, pouting; +"everything is done to keep Ursula out of His Grace's way. And we, too, +are made the scapegoats of this silly intrigue."</p> + +<p>"Barbara, I forbid you to talk like that!"</p> + +<p>"I mean nothing disrespectful, madam, yet 'tis patent to every one. Why +are we relegated to this dreary old chamber this brilliant afternoon, +when my lord the Cardinal and all the foreign ambassadors are at the +Palace? Why are we not allowed to join the others at tennis, or watch +the gentlemen at bowls? Why were Helen and Margaret kept from seeing the +jousts? Why? Why? Why?"</p> + +<p>She was stamping her little foot, eager, impatient, excited. The Duchess +felt somewhat bewildered before this hurricane of girlish wrath.</p> + +<p>"Because Her Majesty ordered it thus, child," she said in a more +conciliatory spirit; "she hath not always need of all her +maids-of-honour round her."</p> + +<p>"Nay! that's not the reason," rejoined Barbara, "and Your Grace is too +clever to believe it."</p> + +<p>"You are a silly child and——"</p> + +<p>"Then we are all silly, for 'tis patent to us all. 'Tis Ursula who is +being kept wilfully away from the Court, or rather from seeing His Grace +of Wessex, and in order not to make these machinations too obvious, some +of us are also relegated in the background in her company."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_79" id="Page_79">[Pg 79]</a></span>"And 'tis small wonder that Ursula should wish to catch sight of the man +whom her father vowed she should wed or else enter into a convent," +concluded Alicia defiantly.</p> + +<p>Her Grace was at her wits' ends. Too clever not to have noticed the +intrigue to which the girls now made reference, she would sooner have +died than owned that her Queen was acting wrongfully or even pettily.</p> + +<p>However, for the moment she was spared the further discussion of this +unpleasant topic, for a long, merry, girlish laugh was suddenly heard +echoing through the great chambers beyond.</p> + +<p>"Hush!" said the Duchess with reassumed severity, "'tis that misguided +child herself. Now remember, ladies, not a word of all this. I must +learn the truth on this scandal, and will set a watch to-night. But not +a word to her."</p> + +<p>The next moment the subject of all this animated conversation threw open +the heavy oak door of the room. She came running in, with her fair hair +flying in a deliriously mad tangle round her shoulders, her eyes dancing +with glee, whilst above her head she was, with one small hand, +flourishing a small piece of paper, the obvious cause of this apparently +uncontrollable fit of girlish merriment.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_80" id="Page_80">[Pg 80]</a></span></p> + +<h2 class="newchapter"><a name="CHAPTER_XI" id="CHAPTER_XI"></a>CHAPTER XI<br /> +<span class="smalltext">THE FAIREST OF THEM ALL</span></h2> + + +<p>The Duchess was frowning for all she was worth. Alicia and Barbara tried +to look serious, but were obviously only too ready to join in any frolic +which happened to be passing in Ursula Glynde's lively little head.</p> + +<p>"Oh!" said the latter, as soon as she had partially recovered her +breath. "Oh! I vow 'tis the best of the bunch."</p> + +<p>With the freedom of a spoilt child, who knows how welcome are its +caresses, Ursula sidled up to the Duchess of Lincoln and sat down upon +the arm of her chair.</p> + +<p>"Your Grace, a share of your seat I entreat," she said gaily, heedless +of stern looks. "Nay! I'll die of laughing unless you let me read you +this."</p> + +<p>"Child! child!" admonished the Duchess, still trying to look severe, +"this loud laughter is most unseemly—and your cheeks all ablaze! What +is it now?"</p> + +<p>"What is it, sweet Grace?" responded the young girl. "A poem! Listen!"</p> + +<p>She smoothed out the piece of paper, spread it out upon her knee and +began reading solemnly:—</p> + +<div class="ital poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0q">"If all the world were sought so farre<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who could find such a wight?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her beauty twinkleth like a starre<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Within the frosty night.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her roseall colour comes and goes<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With such a comely grace,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">More ruddier too than doth the rose,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Within her lively face."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_81" id="Page_81">[Pg 81]</a></span>"And beneath this sonnet," she continued, "a drawing—see!—a heart +pierced by a dagger. <i>His</i> heart—<i>my</i> beauty which twinkleth like a +starre!"</p> + +<p>Who could resist the joy and gladness, the freshness, the youth, the +girlishness which emanated from Ursula's entire personality? The two +other girls pressed closely round her, giggling like school-children at +sight of the rough, sentimental device affixed to the love poem.</p> + +<p>The Duchess vainly endeavoured to keep up a semblance of sternness, but +she could not meet those laughing eyes, now dark, now blue, now an +ever-changing grey, alive with irrepressible mischief, yet full of +loving tenderness. She felt that her wrath would soon melt in the +sunshine of that girlish smile.</p> + +<p>"Lady Ursula, this is most unseemly," she said as coldly as she could. +"How came you by this poem?"</p> + +<p>Ursula threw her arms round the feebly-resisting old dame.</p> + +<p>"Hush!" she whispered, "in your dear old ears! I found it, sweet Duchess +. . . beside my stockings . . . when I came out of my bath!"</p> + +<p>"Horror!"</p> + +<p>"Now, Duchess! dear, sweet, darling, beautiful Duchess, tell me, who +think you wrote this poem? And who—<i>who</i> think you placed it near my +stockings?"</p> + +<p>The Duchess was almost speechless, partly through genuine horror, but +chiefly because a sweet, fresh face was pressed closely to her old +cheek.</p> + +<p>"'Twas not the Earl of Norfolk," continued Ursula meditatively. She +seemed quite unconscious of the enormity of her offence, and sought the +eyes of her young friends in confirmation of these various surmises. "He +cannot write verses. Nor could it be my lord of Overcliffe, for he would +not know where to find my stockings."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_82" id="Page_82">[Pg 82]</a></span>"The vanity of the child!" sighed Her Grace. "Think you these great +gentlemen would write verses to a chit of a girl like you?"</p> + +<p>But her kind eyes, resting with obvious pride on the dainty figure +beside her, belied the severity of her words.</p> + +<p>"Yes," replied Ursula decisively, "bad ones!—not such beautiful verses +as these."</p> + +<p>Then she went on with her conjectures.</p> + +<p>"And there's my lord of Everingham, and the Marquis of Taunton, and——"</p> + +<p>"His Grace of Wessex," suggested Alicia archly, despite the Duchess's +warning frown.</p> + +<p>"Alas, no!" sighed Ursula, "for he has never been allowed to see me."</p> + +<p>"Ursula!" came in ever-recurring feeble protests from the old dowager.</p> + +<p>But the young girl was wholly unabashed.</p> + +<p>"But he <i>will</i> see me—before to-night," she said.</p> + +<p>The others exchanged significant glances.</p> + +<p>"To-night?"</p> + +<p>"Yes! What have I said? Why do you all look like that?"</p> + +<p>"Because your conduct, child, is positively wanton," said the Duchess.</p> + +<p>But Ursula only hugged the kind old soul all the more closely.</p> + +<p>"Now—now," she coaxed, "don't be angry, darling. There!—look!" she +added with mock horror, "your coif is all awry."</p> + +<p>With deft fingers she rearranged the delicate lace cap over Her Grace's +white curls.</p> + +<p>"So," she said, "now you look pretty again—and your nice, fat cheeks +have the sweetest of dimples. Nay, I vow, all these young gallants only +sigh with love for me because <i>you</i> frown on them so!"</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_83" id="Page_83">[Pg 83]</a></span>"What a madcap!" sighed the Duchess, mollified.</p> + +<p>"You won't be angry with me?" queried the girl earnestly.</p> + +<p>"Nay! that depends what mad pranks you have been after."</p> + +<p>"Sh—sh!—sh!—'tis a deadly secret. Barbara, Alicia, come a little +closer."</p> + +<p>She paused a moment, whilst all three of them crowded round Her Grace of +Lincoln's chair.</p> + +<p>Then Ursula said solemnly—</p> + +<p>"The Queen is in love with my future husband!"</p> + +<p>The Duchess of Lincoln nearly fell backwards in a faint.</p> + +<p>"Ursula!" she gasped.</p> + +<p>"Nay, that's not the secret," continued Ursula, quite unperturbed, "for +that is town-talk, and every one at Court knows that she won't let him +see me for fear he should fall in love with me. And my lord Cardinal is +furious because he wants the Queen to marry Philip of Spain, and he is +wishing His Grace of Wessex down there, where all naughty Cardinals go."</p> + +<p>"Child! . . . child! . . ."</p> + +<p>"But the days are slipping by, darling," added the young girl, with just +a shade of seriousness in her eyes. "All these intriguers may fight as +much as they like, but if I do not wed His Grace of Wessex, if he should +be inveigled into marrying the Queen, I must to the convent. My dear +father made me swear it on his deathbed, when I was beside myself with +grief, and scarce knew what I did. 'There is but one true gentleman to +whom I would trust my child,' he said to me; 'swear to me, Ursula, that +if Wessex claims you not, that you will never marry any one else, but +spend your days in happy singleness in a convent. Swear it, little one.' +He was so ill, so dear, I swore and——"</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_84" id="Page_84">[Pg 84]</a></span>"The convent is the proper place for such a feather-brain as yourself," +concluded the Duchess with as gruff a voice as she could command.</p> + +<p>"But I do not wish to be a nun," protested Ursula, as tears began to +gather in her eyes, "and I do want to wed Wessex, who is handsome—and +gallant—and witty—and—and," she added coquettishly, "when he sees +me—I vow he'll not let me go to a convent either, so——"</p> + +<p>She leant closer to the kind dowager and once more whispered +confidentially in her ear.</p> + +<p>"So, as the Queen is engaged in prayers for at least half an hour, I've +sent His Grace word by one of the pages that the Duchess of Lincoln +desired his presence in this chamber—here!"</p> + +<p>But this was really past bearing.</p> + +<p>"I! . . ." exclaimed the Duchess in horror. "I? . . . desire his +presence? . . . Merciful heavens! what will His Grace think?"</p> + +<p>Once more Ursula, like the veritable child that she was, was dancing +like mad round the room, now alone, clapping her tiny hands together, +then seizing one of her companions by the waist, she whirled with her, +round and round, until she fell back breathless against the Duchess's +chair. And all the while her tongue went prattling on, now talking at +top speed, anon singing out the words in the madness of her glee.</p> + +<p>"And he is coming, dear Duchess," she said. "'He'll attend upon Her +Grace at once!' these were his words to that pet of a page, and he'll +see me—and—and——"</p> + +<p>Now she paused, kneeling beside her old friend, putting coaxing arms +round the bulky figure of the kind soul.</p> + +<p>"But don't tell him my name all at once, Duchess darling," she whispered +entreatingly; "let him fall in love with me without knowing that I am +his affianced bride—for that might prejudice him against me. Just<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_85" id="Page_85">[Pg 85]</a></span> +mumble something when he asks my name, and let me do the rest. Give me +another kiss, darling. Alicia—Alicia," she cried in feverish anxiety, +"is my kerchief straight at the back? and—and—oh, my hair!"</p> + +<p>Still in that same madly-excited mood, she ran to a small oval mirror +which hung on one of the walls, close to the great bay window.</p> + +<p>The Duchess during that brief moment's respite tried to collect her +scattered wits.</p> + +<p>"But oh! what shall I say to His Grace?" she moaned distractedly. +"Child! child! to your folly there is no end!"</p> + +<p>A quickly smothered shriek from Ursula now brought the other girls to +her side in the embrasure. She was pointing across the court to the +gateway beneath the clock tower.</p> + +<p>"He is coming!" she cried, with a slightly nervous tremor in her voice. +"It is he, with my lord Everingham; they are laughing and talking +together. . . . Oh, how handsome he looks!" she added enthusiastically. +"My future husband, <i>my</i> lord, not the Queen's—mine own, mine own! +Alicia, tell me, hast ever seen a more goodly sight than that of <i>my</i> +future husband in that beautiful silken doublet and with that dear, dear +dog of his walking so proudly behind him? Harry Plantagenet, thou'rt a +lucky dog, and I'll kiss thee first, and—and——"</p> + +<p>Then she ran back to the Duchess.</p> + +<p>"Two minutes to mount the stairs, two more to cross the Great Hall, then +the watching chamber, the presence chamber. . . . In six minutes he will +be here—hush!—I hear a footstep! . . . Holy Virgin, how my heart +beats!"</p> + +<p>There had come a discreet knock at the door. All four women were too +excited to respond, but the next moment the door was opened and a young +page, dressed in the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_86" id="Page_86">[Pg 86]</a></span> same gorgeous livery which Henry VIII had +originally prescribed, entered and bowed to the ladies.</p> + +<p>Then he turned to the Duchess of Lincoln.</p> + +<p>"Her Majesty the Queen desires the immediate presence of Her Grace and +of her maids-of-honour in the Oratory."</p> + +<p>There was dead silence in the room whilst the page once more bowed in +the elaborate manner ordained by Court etiquette; then he walked +backwards to the door, and stood there, holding it open ready for the +ladies to pass.</p> + +<p>"No, no, no!" whispered Ursula excitedly, as the Duchess immediately +rose to obey.</p> + +<p>"Ladies!" commanded Her Grace.</p> + +<p>"One minute, darling," entreated Ursula, "just one short little minute!"</p> + +<p>But where the Queen's commands were concerned Her Grace of Lincoln was +adamant.</p> + +<p>"Ladies!" she ordered once more.</p> + +<p>Alicia and Barbara, though terribly disappointed at the failure of the +exciting conspiracy, were ready enough to obey. Ursula wildly ran back +to the window.</p> + +<p>"I can see his silhouette and that of my lord Everingham slowly moving +across the Great Hall," she said.</p> + +<p>"Oh! why is he so slow?"</p> + +<p>The Duchess turned to the page.</p> + +<p>"Precede!" she commanded. "We'll follow."</p> + +<p>She then pointed to the door. Alicia and Barbara, endeavouring to look +grave, walked out with becoming dignity.</p> + +<p>Her Grace went up to Ursula, who was still clinging to the window +embrasure with passionate obstinacy.</p> + +<p>"Lady Ursula Glynde," she said sternly, "if you do not obey Her +Majesty's commands instantly, you'll be dismissed from the Court this very +day."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_87" id="Page_87">[Pg 87]</a></span>And while His Grace of Wessex was slowly wending his way towards the +chamber where he had been so eagerly expected, Lady Ursula, defiant and +rebellious, was being peremptorily marshalled off in an opposite +direction.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_88" id="Page_88">[Pg 88]</a></span></p> + +<h2 class="newchapter"><a name="CHAPTER_XII" id="CHAPTER_XII"></a>CHAPTER XII<br /> +<span class="smalltext">INTRIGUES</span></h2> + + +<p>When Wessex, accompanied by his friend, reached the room which so lately +was echoing with merry girlish laughter, he was met by a page, deputed +by the Duchess of Lincoln to present her excuses to His Grace for her +non-appearance.</p> + +<p>"Nay! marry, this is the bravest comedy ever witnessed," laughed the +Duke, when the boy had gone.</p> + +<p>"What, my lord?" asked Everingham with seeming unconcern.</p> + +<p>"A comedy, friend, in which the Queen, Her Grace of Lincoln, you, and +His Eminence the Cardinal, all play leading rôles."</p> + +<p>"I don't understand."</p> + +<p>"Well done, man! Nay! I know not yet which of you will win; but this I +know, that whilst I do my best to whisper sweet nothings in Her +Majesty's ear, you are pleased, the Cardinal is furious, and the Duchess +of Lincoln discreetly keeps my affianced bride out of my way."</p> + +<p>"For this at least Your Grace should be grateful," rejoined his friend +with a smile.</p> + +<p>"Grateful that other people should guide my destiny for me? Well, +perhaps! 'Twould certes have been ungallant to flee from danger, when +danger takes the form of a future wife. I cannot picture myself saying +to a lady: 'Madam, honour demands that I should wed you,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_89" id="Page_89">[Pg 89]</a></span> and thus hath +put it out of my power ever to love you.' But since the Lady Ursula is +so unapproachable, marry!—methinks I am almost free!"</p> + +<p>"Perchance it is the lady herself who avoids Your Grace."</p> + +<p>"Nay! undoubtedly she does. Poor girl! how she must hate the very +thought of me. Her dear father, I fear me, was wont to sing my praises +in her childish ears; now that she hath arrived at years of discretion, +my very name must have become an obsession to her. Obviously even a +convent must be preferable. Then why this mad desire to keep us apart? +Mutual understanding would do that soon enough."</p> + +<p>The two men had once more turned to go back the way they came; slowly +they strolled across the vast and lofty rooms and through the Great +Hall, which, deserted at this time of day, was the scene of so much +gaiety and magnificence during the evening hours.</p> + +<p>"Your Grace, methinks, must be mistaken," said Everingham after a while; +"there is, at any rate on the part of your friends, no desire to keep +you and the Lady Ursula apart; you are best judge of your own honour, my +lord, and no one would presume to dictate to you; but the most sensitive +conscience in England could but hold the opinion that, whilst the lady +may feel bound by her promise to her father, you are as free as +air—free to wed whom you choose."</p> + +<p>"By the mass! what an anomaly, friend! Free to wed! free to wear +fetters! the most terrible chains ever devised by the turpitude of man."</p> + +<p>"Marriage is a great institution——"</p> + +<p>"Nay! 'tis an evil one, contrived out of malice by priests and old maids +to enchain a woman who would rather be free to a man who speedily +becomes bored."</p> + +<p>"Nay! but when that woman is a queen?"</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_90" id="Page_90">[Pg 90]</a></span>"Take off her crown and what is she, friend?" rejoined His Grace +lightly. "A woman . . . to be desired, of course, to be loved, by all +means—but at whose feet we should only recline long enough to make all +other men envious, and one woman jealous."</p> + +<p>Everingham frowned. He hated this flippant, careless mood of his friend. +He did not understand it. To him the idea of such a possibility as a +union with the Queen of England was so great, so wonderful, so +superhuman almost, that he felt that the man who deserved such +incommensurate honour should spend half his days on his knees, thanking +God for such a glorious destiny.</p> + +<p>That Wessex hung back when Mary herself was holding out her hand to him +seemed to this enthusiast almost a sacrilege.</p> + +<p>"But surely you have ambition, my lord?" he said at last.</p> + +<p>"Ambition?" replied Wessex with characteristic light-heartedness. "Yes, +one!—to be a boy again."</p> + +<p>"Nay! an you were that now, you could not understand all that England +expects of you. The Queen is harassed by the Cardinal and the Spanish +ambassador. Philip but desires her hand in order to lay the iron heel of +Spain upon the neck of submissive England. Your Grace can save us all. +Mary loves you, would wed you to-morrow."</p> + +<p>"And send me to the block for my infidelities—supposed or real—the day +after, and be free to wed Philip or the Dauphin after all."</p> + +<p>"I'll not believe it."</p> + +<p>"Friend! do you know what you ask of me? To marry—that is to say to +give up all that makes life poetic, beautiful, amusing, the love which +lasts a day, the delights which live one hour, woman in her most +alluring<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_91" id="Page_91">[Pg 91]</a></span> aspect, the unattainable; and in exchange what do you offer +me—the smaller half of a crown."</p> + +<p>"The gratitude of a nation . . ." protested Everingham.</p> + +<p>"Ah! A woman, however fickle she may be, is more constant than a nation +. . . As for gratitude? . . . nay, my lord . . . let us not speak of the +gratitude of nations."</p> + +<p>"This is not your last word, friend," pleaded Lord Everingham earnestly.</p> + +<p>They had reached the foot of the stairs, and were once more under the +gateway of the clock tower, where Lady Ursula Glynde had caught sight of +them from the great bay-window opposite.</p> + +<p>It was a glorious afternoon. October, always lovely in England, was more +beautiful and mellow this year than it had ever been. Wessex paused a +moment, with his slender hand placed affectionately on his friend's +shoulder. He looked round him—at the great windows of the hall, the +vast enclosure of the Base Court beyond, the distant tower of the chapel +visible above the fantastic roofs and gables of Henry VIII's chambers, +the massive, imposing grandeur of the great pile which had seen so many +tragedies, witnessed so many sorrows, so many downfalls, such treachery +and such horrible deaths. A shudder seemed to go through his powerful +frame, a look of resolution, of pride, and of absolute disdain crept +into his lazy, deep-set eyes. Then he said quietly—</p> + +<p>"That is my last word, friend. I'll never be made a puppet on which to +hang the cloak of political factions and intrigues. My life belongs to +my country, but neither my liberty nor my self-respect. If my friendship +will help to influence the Queen into refusing to wed the King of Spain +I'll continue to exert it to the best of my ability, but I'll not become +Her Majesty's lapdog, nor the tool of my friends."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_92" id="Page_92">[Pg 92]</a></span>Then once more the hardness and determination vanished from his face; +the nonchalance and careless idleness of the grand seigneur was alone +visible now.</p> + +<p>With easy familiarity he linked his arm through that of Everingham.</p> + +<p>"Shall we rejoin Her Majesty on the terrace?" he said lightly. "She will +have finished her orisons, and will be awaiting us. Come, Harry!"</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_93" id="Page_93">[Pg 93]</a></span></p> + +<h2 class="newchapter"><a name="CHAPTER_XIII" id="CHAPTER_XIII"></a>CHAPTER XIII<br /> +<span class="smalltext">HIS EMINENCE</span></h2> + + +<p>A merry company was gathered on the terrace, which, fronting the +ill-fated Cardinal Wolsey's rooms, descended in elegantly sloping grades +down to the old Pond Garden, giving an exquisite view across the tall, +trim hedges, the parterres gay with late summer flowers, and the green +bosquets of lilac and yew, to the serpentine river and distant landscape +beyond.</p> + +<p>Mary Tudor had indeed finished her afternoon orisons. She had recited +her rosary in the chapel, kneeling before the altar and surrounded by +her maids-of-honour: no doubt she had prayed for the Virgin's help to +aid her in the accomplishment of the one great wish which lay so near to +her heart.</p> + +<p>She was this afternoon expecting the arrival of a special envoy from His +Holiness the Pope, and had to curtail her prayers in consequence. She +had strolled back to the terrace, because His Eminence the Cardinal de +Moreno was there, the ambassador of His Most Catholic Majesty the King +of Spain, also the Duc de Noailles, who represented the King of France, +and Scheyfne, who watched over the interests of the Emperor Charles V in +this game of political conflicts, wherein the hand of the Queen of +England was the guerdon.</p> + +<p>Mary Tudor watched them all with a sleepy eye. She felt dreamy and +contented this beautiful afternoon: was not the envoy from Rome bringing +her a special blessing from His Holiness? and what could that blessing +be<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_94" id="Page_94">[Pg 94]</a></span> but the love of the one man in all the world to whom she would +gladly have given her hand to hold and her lips to kiss?</p> + +<p>She sighed as she settled herself down on the straight-backed chair +which she affected. Noailles and Scheyfne hurried eagerly towards her. +His Eminence bowed low as she approached, but her eyes wandered +restlessly round her in search of the one form dear to her, and she +frowned impatiently when she missed the proud, handsome face, whose +smile alone could bring hers forth in response.</p> + +<p>She listened with but half an ear to Noailles' platitudes, or to His +Eminence's smooth talk, until close by she heard the well-known step. +She did not turn her head. Her heart, by its sudden, rapid beating, had +told her that he was there.</p> + +<p>Mary Tudor was not quite forty then, a woman full of the passionate +intensity of feeling, characteristic of the Tudors, neither beautiful +nor yet an adept at women's wiles; but when she heard Wessex' footsteps +on the flagstones of the terrace, her whole face lighted up with that +radiance which makes every woman fair—the radiance of a whole-hearted +love.</p> + +<p>"Nay, my lord Cardinal," she said with sudden impatience, "Your Eminence +has vaunted the beauties of Spain long enough to-day. I feel sure," she +added, half turning towards Wessex, "that His Grace, though a truant +from our side, will hold a brief for Merrie England against you."</p> + +<p>The Duke, as he approached, scanned with a lazy eye the brilliant +company gathered round the Queen; an amused smile, made up partly of +sarcasm, wholly of insouciance, glimmered in his eyes as he caught the +frown, quickly suppressed, which appeared on the Cardinal's shrewd, +clever face.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_95" id="Page_95">[Pg 95]</a></span>"Nay, His Eminence hath but to look on our Sovereign Lady," he said, as +he gallantly kissed the tips of the royal hand, graciously extended to +him, "to know that England hath naught to envy Spain."</p> + +<p>Mary, with the rapid intuition of the woman who loves, seemed to detect +a more serious tone in Wessex' voice than was his wont. She looked +inquiringly at him. The thoughts, engendered in his mind by Everingham's +earnestness and enthusiasm, had left their shadow over his lighter mood.</p> + +<p>"You look troubled, my lord!" she said anxiously.</p> + +<p>"What trouble I had Your Grace's presence has already dispelled," he +replied gently.</p> + +<p>It amused him to watch the discomfited faces of his political +antagonists, whose presence now Mary seemed completely to ignore. Her +whole personality was transformed in his presence: she looked ten years +younger; her heavy, slow movements appeared suddenly to gain in +elasticity.</p> + +<p>She rose and beckoned to Wessex to accompany her. Neither Noailles nor +Scheyfne cared to follow, fearing a rebuke.</p> + +<p>His Eminence the Cardinal de Moreno alone, seeing her turn towards the +gardens, ventured on a remark.</p> + +<p>"At what hour will Your Majesty deign to receive the envoy of His +Holiness?" he asked unctuously.</p> + +<p>"As soon as he arrives," replied the Queen curtly.</p> + +<p>His Eminence watched the two figures disappearing down the stone steps +of the terrace. There was a troubled, anxious look in his keen eyes. The +first inkling had just dawned upon him that perhaps he might fail in his +mission after all.</p> + +<p>A new experience for the Cardinal de Moreno.</p> + +<p>When Philip of Spain desired to wed Mary of England he chose the one man +in all Europe most able to carry his<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_96" id="Page_96">[Pg 96]</a></span> wishes through. A perfect grand +seigneur, veritable prince of the Church, but a priest only in name, for +he had never taken Holy Orders, His Eminence shone in every circle +wherein he appeared, through the brilliancy of his intellect, the charm +and suavity of his manner, and above all by that dominating personality +of his, which <i>willed</i> so strongly what he desired to obtain.</p> + +<p>Willed it at times—so his enemies said—without scruple. Well, perhaps! +and if so, why not? would be His Eminence's own argument.</p> + +<p>Heaven had given him certain weapons: these he used in order to get +Heaven's own ends. And in the mind of the Cardinal de Moreno, Heaven was +synonymous with the political interests of the Catholic Church. England +was too fine a country to be handed over to the schismatic sect without +a struggle, the people were too earnest, too deeply religious to be +allowed to remain in the enemy's camp.</p> + +<p>And His Eminence was not only fighting for an important political +alliance for his royal master, but also for the reconquest of Catholic +England. Wessex, a firm yet unostentatious adherent of the new faith, +was to him an opponent in every sense.</p> + +<p>When the Cardinal first landed in England he had been assured that the +volatile and nonchalant Duke would never become a serious obstacle to +Spanish plans.</p> + +<p>The Duke? Perhaps not. But there was the Queen herself, half sick for +love! and women's follies have ere now upset the most deeply laid, most +important plans.</p> + +<p>"Ah, my friend!" sighed His Eminence with ill-concealed irritation, as +the Marquis de Suarez came idly lounging beside him, "alas! and +alack-a-day! when diplomacy hath to reckon with women. . . . Look at +that picture!" he added, pointing with be-ringed, slender, tapering +finger to the figures of Wessex and Mary Tudor disappearing amid the +bosquets of the park, "and think<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_97" id="Page_97">[Pg 97]</a></span> that the destinies of Europe depend +upon how a woman of forty can succeed in chaining that butterfly."</p> + +<p>Don Miguel too had followed with frowning eyes the little comedy just +enacted upon the terrace. His intellect, though perhaps not so keen as +that of his chief, was nevertheless sufficiently on the alert to +recognize that Mary Tudor had distinctly intended to administer a snub +to the entire diplomatic corps, by her marked preference for Wessex' +sole company.</p> + +<p>"Chance certainly, seems against your schemes and mine, my lord +Cardinal," he said; "for that butterfly is heart-free and indolent, +whilst the woman of forty is a queen."</p> + +<p>"Indolent, yes," mused His Eminence, "but ambitious?"</p> + +<p>"His friends will supply the ambition," rejoined Don Miguel; "and the +Crown of England is a heavy prize."</p> + +<p>The Cardinal did not speak for a moment. He seemed buried in thought.</p> + +<p>"I was thinking of the beautiful Lady Ursula Glynde," he said +meditatively after a while.</p> + +<p>"Beautiful indeed. But His Grace is never allowed to see her."</p> + +<p>"But when he does——"</p> + +<p>"Oh! if I judge him rightly, when he does see her—she is passing +beautiful, remember—his roving fancy will no doubt be enchained +for—shall we say—half an hour—perhaps half a day. . . . What then?"</p> + +<p>"Half an hour!" mused the Cardinal. "Much may be done in half an hour, +my lord Marquis."</p> + +<p>"Bah!"</p> + +<p>"In half an hour a woman, even if she be a queen, might become piqued +and jealous, and the destinies of Europe will be shaped accordingly."</p> + +<p>His keen grey eyes were searching the bosquets, trying to read what went +on behind the dark yew hedges of the park.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_98" id="Page_98">[Pg 98]</a></span>"To think that the fate of Catholic Europe should depend upon the chance +meeting of a young girl and a Court gallant," sighed Don Miguel +impatiently.</p> + +<p>"The fate of empires has hung on more slender threads than these ere +now, my son," rejoined His Eminence quietly; "diplomacy is the art of +seeming to ignore the great occasions whilst seizing the small +opportunity."</p> + +<p>He said nothing more, for at that same moment there came to his ears, +gently echoing across the terrace, the sound of a half-gay, +half-melancholy ditty. A pure, girlish voice was singing somewhere +within the Palace, like a young caged bird behind the bars, at sight of +the brilliant sunshine above.</p> + +<p>Don Miguel gave a short sarcastic laugh.</p> + +<p>"The Lady Ursula's voice," he said.</p> + +<p>Then he pointed to the more distant portion of the garden, where Wessex +and Mary were once more seen strolling slowly back towards the terrace.</p> + +<p>A look of expectancy, of shrewd and sudden intuition crept into the +Cardinal's handsome face. The eyes lighted up as if with a quick, +bright, inward vision, whilst the thin lips seemed to close with a snap, +as if bent on guarding the innermost workings of the mind.</p> + +<p>He took his breviary from his pocket and began walking along the +flagstones of the terrace in the direction whence the song had come. His +head was bent; apparently he was deeply absorbed in the Latin text.</p> + +<p>Don Miguel had not followed him. He knew that his chief wished to be +alone. He watched the crimson robes slowly fading away into the +distance. The Cardinal presently disappeared round the angle formed by +Wolsey's rooms. Beyond these were the fine chambers built by Henry VIII. +The sweet song still came from there, wafted lightly on the summer +breeze.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_99" id="Page_99">[Pg 99]</a></span></p> + +<h2 class="newchapter"><a name="CHAPTER_XIV" id="CHAPTER_XIV"></a>CHAPTER XIV<br /> +<span class="smalltext">THE DESTINIES OF EUROPE</span></h2> + + +<p>Five minutes later His Eminence's brilliantly clad figure once more +reappeared round the angle of the Palace. The breviary was no longer in +his hands.</p> + +<p>A few moments later he had joined Don Miguel, and together the two men +watched the Queen and Wessex, as they drew nearer to the terrace steps.</p> + +<p>A smile was on His Eminence's lips, suave, slightly sarcastic, and at +the same time triumphant, yet at this very instant when he seemed so +pleased with himself, or with events in general, Mary Tudor was looking +with loving anxiety in His Grace of Wessex' eyes.</p> + +<p>"I seem unable to cheer you to-day, my dear lord," she said. "What has +become of your usual gay spirits?"</p> + +<p>"Gone eavesdropping on my lord Cardinal," replied the Duke with a smile, +as he spied the crimson robes on the top of the steps, "to find out how +soon a King of Spain will rule over England and capture the heart of our +Queen."</p> + +<p>Mary paused and suddenly laid an eager hand on his wrist.</p> + +<p>"Methought you cared nothing for the affairs of state," she said with +some sadness, "and still less as to who shall rule over the heart of +your Queen."</p> + +<p>"Shall I dismiss the Spanish ambassador?" she added in an excited +whisper, "and His Eminence?—and M. de Noailles? . . . all of them? +. . . I have not yet given my answer. Will you dictate it, my lord?"</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_100" id="Page_100">[Pg 100]</a></span>He looked up and saw the Cardinal's piercing eyes fixed steadily upon +him. For one moment he hesitated. His Eminence looked so sure of +himself, so proud of his ascendency over this impulsive woman, that just +for the space of five seconds the thought crossed his mind that he would +yield to the entreaties of his friends, and wrest the crown of England +from the grasping hands of these foreigners, all eagerly waiting to +snatch it for themselves.</p> + +<p>As the Cardinal himself had said, but a short while ago, "the destinies +of empires oft hang on more slender threads than these." No doubt none +knew better than the shrewd Spaniard himself, how nigh he was at that +moment to losing the great game which he played.</p> + +<p>Who knows?—if at this instant the sudden commotion on the terrace had +not stopped the words on Wessex' lips, how different might have been the +destinies of England! But just as His Grace would have spoken, the +major-domo's voice rang out:—</p> + +<p>"The envoy of His Holiness the Pope awaits Her Majesty in the audience +chamber."</p> + +<p>"The envoy of His Holiness," said His Eminence with his usual suavity, +as he stepped forward to meet the Queen, "and I am to have the honour of +introducing him to your Majesty."</p> + +<p>The major-domo, who had announced the news, was standing at some little +distance with the pages who had accompanied him. The rest of the Court +had dispersed when Mary strolled off with the Duke; only two or three +ladies, in immediate attendance on the Queen, were laughing and +chattering close by.</p> + +<p>The Palace itself seemed astir with new movement and life, horses were +stamping in the flagged courts, men were heard running and shouting, +whilst the rhythmic sound of a brass trumpet at intervals announced the +important arrival.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_101" id="Page_101">[Pg 101]</a></span>But through all this noise and bustle, the sweet, sad ditty sung by a +fresh young voice still seemed to fill the air.</p> + +<p>Mary was visibly chafing under this sudden restraint put upon her by +rigid ceremonial. His Holiness' envoy could not be kept waiting, though +she, poor woman, was burning with desire to prolong the happy +<i>tête-à-tête</i> with the man she loved.</p> + +<p>She felt His Eminence's eyes watching her every movement. She threw him +a defiant look, then peremptorily ordered the major-domo and the pages +to precede her.</p> + +<p>His Grace of Wessex, on the other hand, seemed obviously relieved. He +had turned his head in the direction whence came that girlish song, and +appeared to be listening intently.</p> + +<p>"Will you accompany us, my lord?" said the Queen in a tone of obvious +command. "I must not keep the envoy of His Holiness waiting, and have +need of your presence."</p> + +<p>She placed her hand on his arm. Respect and chivalry compelled him to +obey, yet he seemed loath to go.</p> + +<p>"The Lady Ursula's song seems to fascinate His Grace of Wessex," +whispered Don Miguel in His Eminence's ear.</p> + +<p>"Hush! the small opportunity, my lord Marquis," whispered the Cardinal +in reply.</p> + +<p>"Have I the honour of following Your Majesty?" he added respectfully, +bowing to the Queen.</p> + +<p>"Nay, on our left, Your Eminence," rejoined Mary coldly.</p> + +<p>Her right hand was still on Wessex' arm, and slowly, as if reluctantly, +she began to move in the direction of the Palace. Don Miguel, at an +almost imperceptible sign from his chief, had quickly disappeared down +the terrace steps.</p> + +<p>"Ah! my breviary!" suddenly exclaimed His Eminence in great +perturbation. "I forgot it on the terrace<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_102" id="Page_102">[Pg 102]</a></span>!—the Nuncio will desire a +prayer, and I am helpless without my Latin text! . . . If Your Majesty +will deign to forgive one moment. . . ."</p> + +<p>He made a movement as if he would turn back.</p> + +<p>From the further end of the terrace the young singer was continuing her +song.</p> + +<p>"Will Your Eminence allow me?" said the Duke of Wessex with alacrity.</p> + +<p>"With pleasure, my dear lord," responded the Cardinal urbanely. "Ah! had +I your years and you mine, 'twere my pleasure to serve you. . . . And +Her Majesty will excuse . . ." he added pointedly, for His Grace was +quite ready to withdraw, whilst Mary was equally prepared to stop him +with a look. "Will Your Majesty deign to place your hand on my arm? The +envoy of His Holiness the Pope awaits your Most Catholic Majesty."</p> + +<p>He was standing before her, outwardly respectful and full of deference. +The pages and ladies had already disappeared within the Palace, whilst +the Duke of Wessex, taking the Queen's silence for consent, had turned +back towards the distant part of the terrace.</p> + +<p>Mary, with all her weaknesses where her affections were concerned, was +too proud to let this Spaniard see that she felt baffled and not a +little humiliated. She guessed that this had been a ruse, a trap into +which she had fallen. How it had all been done she knew not, but she +could easily guess why.</p> + +<p>She smothered the angry words which had risen to her lips, and without +looking either to the right or left of her, she walked quickly towards +the Palace.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_103" id="Page_103">[Pg 103]</a></span></p> + +<h2 class="newchapter"><a name="CHAPTER_XV" id="CHAPTER_XV"></a>CHAPTER XV<br /> +<span class="smalltext">THE HAND OF FATE</span></h2> + + +<p>Ursula had had a good cry.</p> + +<p>She was a mere girl, only just out of her teens; she had been hideously +disappointed and had given way to a paroxysm of tears, just like a child +that has been cheated of its toys.</p> + +<p>As far as her actual feelings for Wessex were concerned, she scarcely +troubled to analyse them. As a tiny child she had worshipped the gallant +boy, who had always been pointed out to her as the pattern of what an +English nobleman should be, and moreover as the future husband who was +to rule over her destiny.</p> + +<p>No doubt that the Earl of Truro, lying on his deathbed, had but little +real perception of what he was doing, when he forced his daughter to +swear that she would marry Wessex or remain single to the end of her +days.</p> + +<p>But Ursula was thirteen years old then, and held an oath to her father +to be the most sacred thing in the world. She had not seen Wessex for +some years, but her girlish imagination had always endowed him with all +those chivalrous attributes which her own father, whom she idolized, had +already ascribed to him.</p> + +<p>Love? Well, it scarce could be called that as yet. In spite of her score +of years, Ursula had remained a child in thought, in feelings, in +temperament. She had spent the last six or seven years within the +precincts of old Truro Castle, watched over by her late father's +faithful<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_104" id="Page_104">[Pg 104]</a></span> servants, who brought her up and worshipped her, taught her +what they knew, and obeyed her implicitly.</p> + +<p>Her one idea, however, had remained, that of a marriage with Wessex. By +right and precedence she could claim a place in the Queen of England's +immediate entourage. As soon as she was old enough she asserted this +claim, and journeyed to Esher in charge of an old aunt, who had +supervised her education since her father's death.</p> + +<p>Since then her one desire had been to meet the man to whom she had +pledged her troth. She had seen him, oh! scores of times, since the day +on which he came back to the Court, but Mary Tudor, bent on winning his +love, had resolutely kept him away from the beautiful girl who, she +instinctively felt, would prove a formidable rival.</p> + +<p>It had been easy enough up to now. His Grace, partly in order to please +his friends, even if only half believing that his influence would +prevent Mary Tudor from contracting an alien marriage, had been in +constant attendance on the Queen.</p> + +<p>Ursula, on the other hand, had been relegated into the background. She +knew this well and chafed at the restraint. Something seemed to tell her +that if she could but see the Duke he would easily realize that it would +not be very hard to fulfil the old earl's promise. She knew that she was +beautiful, her own mirror and the admiration of the Court gallants had +already told her that, and at the same time she felt within herself a +magnetism which must inevitably draw him towards her.</p> + +<p>But time was speeding on. Ursula's quick intelligence had very soon +grasped the threads of the present political situation, whilst Mary +Tudor, on the other hand, made no secret of her love for Wessex. The +young girl was well aware of the many intrigues which were being hatched +round the personality of the man whom she looked upon<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_105" id="Page_105">[Pg 105]</a></span> as her affianced +husband, and guessed how much these were aided by the enamoured Queen.</p> + +<p>His Eminence the Cardinal, the Duc de Noailles, Scheyfne, Don Miguel de +Suarez, all were seeking to obtain a definite promise from Mary. The +English faction, on the other hand, hoped to force the Duke into a +marriage which was obviously distasteful to him.</p> + +<p>Ursula, in the midst of these contending parties, was, nevertheless, +determined to gain her end. Too unsophisticated to attempt a serious +intrigue, she relied on her woman's instinct to guide her to success. +Her little plot to bring His Grace to her presence that afternoon had +failed, probably owing to the Queen's keen acumen; and the young girl, +for the first time since her arrival at Court, felt genuinely mortified +and not a little despairing of ultimate triumph.</p> + +<p>The Duke, evidently, had no desire to meet her, or he would have +accomplished that end somehow. There was not much that His Grace wished +that did not sooner or later come to pass.</p> + +<p>Obviously, for the moment, he was glad enough to remain free of those +bonds which truly were none of his making. Chivalry alone might tempt +him to fulfil Lord Truro's dying wishes, for the late Earl and the +Duke's own father had been the closest of friends. Ursula's pride, +however, would not allow her to appeal to that chivalry; what she wanted +was to gain his love.</p> + +<p>Out of her childish admiration for the boy had grown a kind of poetic +interest in the man, more than fostered by the great popularity enjoyed +by Wessex, and the praises of his personality sung on every side. Ursula +was still too young to be in love with aught else save with love itself, +with her own imaginative fancy, her own conception of what her future +husband should be.</p> + +<p>He should be good to look at—like Wessex. High-born<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_106" id="Page_106">[Pg 106]</a></span> and gracious—like +Wessex. A king among men, witty and accomplished—like Wessex.</p> + +<p>"Holy Virgin! let me have him for mine own!" was her constant, childish +prayer.</p> + +<p>The girl was not yet a woman.</p> + +<p>Thus musing and meditating, she strolled out into the garden, singing as +she went. All the maids-of-honour had been bidden to wait on Her Majesty +in the audience chamber, save Lady Ursula Glynde and Mistress Margaret +Cobham, whose services would not be required. The Duchess of Lincoln, +shrewdly guessing from this summons that His Grace of Wessex was in the +Queen's company, had given the two young maids leave to wander whither +they pleased.</p> + +<p>Lazy Margaret had pleaded a headache and curled herself up in a +window-embrasure with the express intention of doing nothing at all; but +Ursula, with a burning desire for freedom and a longing for flowers, +birds, and sunshine, had wandered out into the open.</p> + +<p>A parterre of marguerites was laid out close to the terrace. Mooning, +dreaming, singing, she had picked a bunch of these and was mechanically +plucking their snow-white petals one by one.</p> + +<p><a name="dainty" id="dainty"></a>Did she guess what a dainty picture she made, as she stood for one +moment beside the pond, her shimmering gown of delicate white glistening +against a background of dark green yews, her fair hair shining like gold +beneath the soft rays of the October sun? Her sweet face was bent down, +earnestly intent upon consulting the flowery oracle: a delicate shadow, +that soft pearly grey tone beloved of Rubens, fell upon her girlish +breast, her soft round arms, the dainty hands which held the marguerite.</p> + +<p>"He loves me," she said, half audibly, "a little . . . passionately +. . . not at all. He loves me . . . a little. . . ."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_107" id="Page_107">[Pg 107]</a></span>So wrapped up was she in these important rites, that she did not hear a +muffled footstep upon the gravel. The next moment she felt two firm +hands upon her waist, whilst a laughing voice completed the daisy's +prophecy,—</p> + +<p>"Passionately!"</p> + +<p>She gave a little gasp, but did not immediately turn to look who the +intruder was. Her woman's instinct had told her that, and then she +knew—or guessed—the sound of his voice. The moment had come at last. +It had been none of her seeking; she did not pause to think how it had +all happened, she only felt that he was near her and that her life's +happiness depended on whether he thought her fair.</p> + +<p>The pleasant little demon of girlish coquetry whispered to her that, in +the midst of this poetic setting of an old-world garden, he would be +hard to please indeed if he did not fall a victim to her smile.</p> + +<p>She turned and faced him.</p> + +<p>"Ah!" she said, with a little cry of feigned surprise, "His Grace of +Wessex! . . . I . . . I vow you frightened me, my lord . . . I thought +this part of the garden quite deserted, and . . . and the Duke of Wessex +at the feet of the Queen."</p> + +<p>She looked divinely pretty as she stood there before him, a delicate, +nervous little blush suffusing her young cheeks, her eyes veiled by a +fringe of lashes slightly darker than her golden hair. As dainty a +picture as this fastidious man had ever gazed upon.</p> + +<p>"At your feet, fair one," he replied, with undisguised admiration +expressed in his every look, "and burning with jealousy at thought of +him, for whose sake your sweet fingers plucked the petal of that +marguerite."</p> + +<p>She still held the flower, half stripped of its petals; he put out his +hand in order to take it from her, or perhaps merely for the sake of +touching for one second the soft velvet of her own.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_108" id="Page_108">[Pg 108]</a></span>Harry Plantagenet, close by, had stretched himself out lazily in the +sun.</p> + +<p>"Oh!" said Ursula, a little confused, still a little shy and nervous, +"that . . . that was for a favourite brother who is absent . . . and I +wished to know if he had not forgotten me."</p> + +<p>"Impossible," he replied with deep conviction, "even for a brother."</p> + +<p>"Your Grace is pleased to flatter."</p> + +<p>"The truth spoken to one so fair must ever seem a flattery."</p> + +<p>"Your Grace. . . ."</p> + +<p>He loved to watch the colour come and go in her face, the dainty, +girlish movements, simple and unaffected, that little curl which looked +like living gold beside the small, shell-like ear. His passionate love +for the beautiful was more than satiated at the exquisite picture before +him, and then she had such a musical and tender voice; he had heard her +singing just now.</p> + +<p>"But you seem to know me, fair one," he said after a while.</p> + +<p>"Who does not know His Grace of Wessex?" she responded, making a pretty +curtsy.</p> + +<p>"Then let me be even with you, sweet singer, and tell me your name."</p> + +<p>Ursula darted a sudden shy look at him. Obviously he was conveying the +truth; he did not know who she was.</p> + +<p>A quick thought crossed her mind; she looked demurely down her nose and +said placidly,—</p> + +<p>"My name is Fanny."</p> + +<p>"Fanny?"</p> + +<p>"Yes . . . you do not like it?"</p> + +<p>"I didn't before," he said with a smile, "but now I adore it."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_109" id="Page_109">[Pg 109]</a></span>"I am getting to like it better too," she added thoughtfully.</p> + +<p>"But, sweet Fanny, tell me how is it I never have seen you before."</p> + +<p>"Your Grace does not know all the ladies of the Court."</p> + +<p>"No! but I thought I knew all the pretty ones. Yet meseems that beauty +was but an empty word now that I have seen its queen."</p> + +<p>"Ah, my lord! I fear me your reputation doth not wrong you after all!" +she added with a quaint little sigh.</p> + +<p>"Why? What is my reputation?"</p> + +<p>"They call you fickle, and say the Duke of Wessex loves many women a +little . . . but constantly, not at all."</p> + +<p>He came a step closer to her, and tried to meet her eyes.</p> + +<p>"Then will you let me prove them wrong?" he said with sudden +seriousness, which perhaps then he could not himself have accounted for.</p> + +<p>"I? . . ." she said artlessly, "what must I do for that?"</p> + +<p>"Anything you like," he replied.</p> + +<p>"Nay, I have no power; for I fear me nothing short of putting Your Grace +under lock and key would cure you of that fickleness."</p> + +<p>"Then put me under lock and key," he suggested gaily.</p> + +<p>"In an inaccessible tower?"</p> + +<p>"Wherever you please."</p> + +<p>She gave a merry, happy little laugh, for he was standing quite close to +her now, his proud head slightly bent so that the quick, whispered words +might easily reach her ears; and there was an unmistakable look of +ardent admiration in his eyes. A demon of mischief suddenly seized her. +She wondered whether he had guessed who she was and tried to nettle him +into betraying himself.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_110" id="Page_110">[Pg 110]</a></span>"And to whom shall I give the key of that tower?" she said demurely. "To +the Lady Ursula Glynde?"</p> + +<p>"No," he replied. "Come inside and throw the key out of the window."</p> + +<p>"But the Lady Ursula?" she persisted.</p> + +<p>He made a quick gesture of mock impatience.</p> + +<p>"What wanton cruelty to mention that name now," he said, "when mine ears +are tuned to 'Fanny.'"</p> + +<p>"Tis wrong they should be so tuned—Lady Ursula, they say, is your +promised wife."</p> + +<p>"But I do not love her . . . never could love her whilst——"</p> + +<p>"They say she is not ill-favoured."</p> + +<p>"Ill-favoured to me, like the bitter pills the medicine man gives us, +whilst you——"</p> + +<p>Once more she interrupted him quickly.</p> + +<p>"You have never seen her," she protested, "you do not even know what she +is like."</p> + +<p>"Nay, I can guess. The Glyndes are all alike—sandy, angular, +large-footed. . . ."</p> + +<p>She laughed, a long, merry, rippling laugh which set his ears tingling +with the desire to hear it once again. Ursula was indeed enjoying +herself thoroughly.</p> + +<p>"They all have brown eyes," he continued gaily, "and just now I feel as +if I could not endure brown eyes."</p> + +<p>She cast down her own, veiling them with her long lashes.</p> + +<p>"What eyes could Your Grace best endure for the moment?" she said, with +the same tantalizing demureness.</p> + +<p>But something magnetic must have passed at that moment between these two +young people, some subtle current from him to her, which forced the +innocent young girl to raise her eyes almost against her will. He looked +straight into their wonderful depths, and murmured softly,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_111" id="Page_111">[Pg 111]</a></span>—</p> + +<p>"The very bluest of the blue, and yet so grey, that I should feel they +must somehow be green. . . ."</p> + +<p>A little shudder had gone through her when first she met his ardent +gaze; she tried to free herself from a sudden strange and delicious +feeling of obsession, and said with somewhat forced merriment now:</p> + +<p>"The Queen has greenish eyes, and Lady Ursula's are grey."</p> + +<p>Then she held out the marguerite to him.</p> + +<p>"Would you like to know which you love best?" she added. "Consult the +marguerite, and take one petal at a time."</p> + +<p>But he took the hand which held the flower.</p> + +<p>"One petal at a time," he whispered. He took the slender fingers and +kissed each in its turn: "This the softest . . . that the whitest . . . +all rose-tipped . . . and a feast for the gods. . . ."</p> + +<p>"My lord! . . ."</p> + +<p>"Now you are frowning—you are not angry?"</p> + +<p>"Very angry!"</p> + +<p>"I'll make amends," he said humbly.</p> + +<p>"How?"</p> + +<p>"Give me the other hand, and I'll show you."</p> + +<p>"Nay! I cannot do that, for we are told that the left hand must never +know what the right hand doeth."</p> + +<p>"It shall not," he rejoined earnestly, "for I'll tell it a different +tale."</p> + +<p>"What is it?"</p> + +<p>"Give me the hand and you shall know."</p> + +<p>Overhead in the green bosquets of yew a group of starlings began to +twitter. The sun was just beginning to sink down in the west, throwing +round the head of the fair young girl an aureole of gold. He stood +watching her, happy in this the supreme moment of his life. A magic veil +seemed to envelop him and her, shutting out all that<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_112" id="Page_112">[Pg 112]</a></span> portion of the +world which was not poetic and beautiful; and she, the priestess of this +exquisite new universe in which he had just entered, was smilingly +holding out her dainty hand to him.</p> + +<p>He seized it, and a sudden wave of passion caused him to bend over it +and to kiss its soft rosy palm.</p> + +<p>"Nay, my lord," she murmured, confused, "that Your Grace should think of +such follies!"</p> + +<p>"Yet, when you look at me," he said, "I think of worse follies still."</p> + +<p>"Women say that there is no worse folly than to listen to His Grace of +Wessex."</p> + +<p>"Do you think they are right?"</p> + +<p>"How can I tell?"</p> + +<p>"By listening to me for half an hour."</p> + +<p>"Here, in this garden?"</p> + +<p>"No! . . . there! . . . by the river. . . ."</p> + +<p>And he pointed beyond the enclosure of the garden, there where the soft +evening breeze gently stirred the rushes in the stream.</p> + +<p>"Oh! . . . what would everybody say?" she exclaimed in mock alarm.</p> + +<p>"Nothing! envy of my good fortune would make them dumb."</p> + +<p>"But the Queen will be asking for you, and the Duchess of Lincoln +wondering where I am."</p> + +<p>"They shall not find us . . . for we'll pull the boat beyond the reeds +. . . just you and I alone . . . with the gloaming all round us . . . +and the twitter of the birds when they go to rest. Shall we go? . . ."</p> + +<p>Her heart had already consented. His voice was low and persuasive, a +strange earnestness seemed to vibrate through it, as he begged her to +come with him.</p> + +<p>Slowly she began to walk by his side towards the stream. She seemed +scarcely alive now, a being from another world<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_113" id="Page_113">[Pg 113]</a></span> wandering in the land of +dreams. He said nothing more, for the world was too beautiful for +speech. Youth, love, delight were coursing through his veins, and as he +led the young girl towards the bank it seemed to him as if he were +taking her away from this dull world of prose and humanity, far, far +away through mysterious golden gates beyond the sunset, to a land where +she would reign as queen.</p> + +<p>The river beckoned to them, and the soft, misty horizon seemed to call. +The intoxicating odour of summer's dying roses filled the air, whilst in +the distance across the stream a nightingale began to sing.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_114" id="Page_114">[Pg 114]</a></span></p> + +<h2 class="newchapter"><a name="CHAPTER_XVI" id="CHAPTER_XVI"></a>CHAPTER XVI<br /> +<span class="smalltext">THE ULTIMATUM</span></h2> + + +<p>The envoy of His Holiness had departed.</p> + +<p>Mary Tudor had dismissed her ladies, for she wished to speak with the +Cardinal de Moreno alone.</p> + +<p>Throughout the audience with the papal Nuncio, His Eminence had already +seen the storm-clouds gathering thick and fast on the Queen's brow. His +Grace of Wessex, gone to fetch a breviary left accidentally on the +terrace-coping, had been gone half an hour, and moreover had not yet +returned.</p> + +<p>Her Majesty had sent a page to request His Grace's presence. The page +returned with the intimation that His Grace could not be found.</p> + +<p>Someone had spied him in the distance walking towards the river, in +company with a lady dressed in white.</p> + +<p>Then the storm-clouds had burst.</p> + +<p>The Queen peremptorily ordered every one out of the room, then she +turned with real Tudor-like fury upon His Eminence.</p> + +<p>"My lord Cardinal," she said in a quivering voice, which she did not +even try to steady, "an you had your master's wishes at heart, you have +indeed gone the wrong way to work."</p> + +<p>The Cardinal's keen grey eyes had watched Mary's growing wrath with much +amusement. What was a woman's wrath to him? Nothing but an asset, an +additional advantage in the political game which he was playing.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_115" id="Page_115">[Pg 115]</a></span>Never for a moment did he depart, however, from his attitude of deepest +respect, nor from his tone of suave urbanity.</p> + +<p>"I seem to have offended Your Majesty," he said gently; "unwittingly, I +assure you. . . ."</p> + +<p>But Mary was in no mood to bandy polite words with the man who had +played her this clever trick. She was angered with herself for having +fallen into so clumsy a trap. A thousand suggestions now occurred to her +of what she might have done to prevent the meeting between Wessex and +Ursula, which the Cardinal had obviously planned.</p> + +<p>"Nay! masks off, I pray Your Eminence," she said, "that trick just now +with your breviary . . . Own to it, man! . . . own to it . . . are you +not proud to have tricked Mary Tudor so easily?"</p> + +<p>She was trembling with rage, yet looked nigh to bursting into tears. A +shade almost of pity crossed His Eminence's cold and clever face. It +seemed almost wantonly useless to have aided Fate in snatching a young +and handsome lover from this ill-favoured, middle-aged woman.</p> + +<p>But the Cardinal never allowed worldly sentiments of any kind to +interfere, for more than one or two seconds, with the object he had in +view. The look of pity quickly faded from his eyes, giving place to the +same mask of respectful deference.</p> + +<p>"My breviary?" he said blandly. "Nay! I am still at a loss to +understand. . . . Ah, yes! I remember now. . . . I had left it on the +balustrade. His Grace of Wessex, a pattern of chivalry, offered to fetch +it for me, and——"</p> + +<p>"A fine scheme indeed, my lord," interrupted the Queen impatiently, "to +send the Duke of Wessex courting after my waiting-maid."</p> + +<p>"The Duke of Wessex?" rejoined His Eminence with well-played +astonishment. "Nay, methought I spied him<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_116" id="Page_116">[Pg 116]</a></span> just now in the distance, +keeping the vows he once made to the Lady Ursula Glynde."</p> + +<p>"I pray you do not repeat that silly fairy-tale. His Grace made no +promise. 'Twas the Earl of Truro desired the marriage, and the Duke had +half forgotten this, until Your Eminence chose to interfere."</p> + +<p>"Nay! but Your Majesty does me grave injustice. What have the amours of +His Grace of Wessex to do with me, who am the envoy of His Most Catholic +Majesty the King of Spain?"</p> + +<p>"'Twere wiser, certainly," retorted Mary coldly, "if the King of Spain's +envoy did not concern himself with rousing the Queen of England's +anger."</p> + +<p>His Eminence smiled as amiably, as unconcernedly as before. Throughout +the length of a very distinguished career he had often been obliged to +weather storms of royal wrath. He was none the worse for it, and knew +how to let the floods of princely anger pass over his shrewd head, +without losing grip of the ground on which he stood. Nothing ever +ruffled him. Supremely conscious of his own dignity, justly proud of his +position and attainments, he had, at the bottom of his heart, a complete +contempt for those exalted puppets of his own political schemes. Mary +Tudor, a weak and soured woman, an all-too-ready prey of her own +passions, swayed hither and thither by her loves and by her hates, was +nothing to this proud prince of the Church but a pawn in a European game +of chess. It was for his deft fingers to move this pawn in the direction +in which he list.</p> + +<p>"Nay," he said, with gentle suavity, "my only desire is to rouse in the +heart of the Queen of England love for my royal master, the King of +Spain. He is young and goodly to look at, a faithful and gallant +gentleman, whom it will be difficult to lure from Your Grace's side, +once you have deigned to allow him to kneel at your feet."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_117" id="Page_117">[Pg 117]</a></span>"You speak, my lord, as if you were sure of my answer."</p> + +<p>"Sure is a momentous word, Your Majesty. But I hope——"</p> + +<p>"Nay! 'tis not yet done, remember," retorted Mary, with ever-increasing +vehemence, "and if this trick of yours should succeed, if Wessex weds +the Lady Ursula, then I <i>will</i> send my answer to your master, and it +shall be 'No!'"</p> + +<p>There was a quick, sudden flash in the Cardinal's eye, a look of +astonishment, perhaps, at this unexpected phase of feminine jealousy. Be +that as it may, it was quickly veiled by an expression of pronounced +sarcasm.</p> + +<p>"As a trophy for the vanity of His Grace of Wessex?" he asked pointedly.</p> + +<p>"No!—merely as a revenge against your interference. So look to it, my +lord Cardinal; the tangle in the skein was made by your hand. See that +you unravel it, or you and the Spanish ambassador leave my Court +to-morrow."</p> + +<p>With a curt nod of the head she dismissed him from her presence. He was +far too shrewd to attempt another word just now. Perhaps for the first +time in his life he felt somewhat baffled. He had allowed his own +impatience to outrun his discretion—an unpardonable fault in a +diplomatist. He blamed himself very severely for his attempt at +brusquing Fate. Surely time and the Duke's own fastidious disposition +would have parted him from Mary quite as readily as this sudden meeting +with beautiful Lady Ursula.</p> + +<p>The Cardinal had withdrawn from the Queen's presence after an obeisance +marked with deep respect. He wished to be alone to think over this new +aspect of the situation. Through the tall bay windows of the Great Hall +which he traversed, the last rays of the setting sun came slanting in. +His Eminence glided along the smooth oak floors, his crimson robes +making but a gentle<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_118" id="Page_118">[Pg 118]</a></span> frou-frou of sound behind him, a ghostlike, +whispering accompaniment to his perturbed thoughts. Somehow the softness +of the evening air lured him towards the terrace and the gardens. There +lacked an hour yet to supper-time, and Mary Tudor was scarce likely to +be in immediate need of His Eminence's company.</p> + +<p>He crossed the Clock Tower gates and soon found himself once more on the +terrace. The gardens beyond looked tenderly poetic in the fast-gathering +dusk. The Cardinal's shrewd eyes wandered restlessly over the parterres +and bosquets, vainly endeavouring to spy the silhouettes of two young +people, whom his diplomacy had brought together and whom his shrewd wit +would have to part again.</p> + +<p>He descended the terrace steps and slowly walked towards the pond, +where, but an hour ago, a sweet and poetic idyll had been enacted. There +was nothing to mark the passage of a fair young dream, born this lovely +October afternoon, save a few dead marguerites and the scattered flakes +of their snow-white petals.</p> + +<p>The Cardinal's footsteps crushed them unheeded. He was thinking how best +he could dispel that dream, which he himself had helped to call forth.</p> + +<p>"Woman! woman!" he sighed impatiently as he looked back upon the +graceful outline of the Palace behind him, "thy moods are many and thy +logic scant."</p> + +<p>"A tangled skein indeed," he mused, "which will take some unravelling. +If Wessex weds the Lady Ursula, the Queen will say 'No' to Philip, out +of revenge for my interference. She'll turn to Noailles mayhap and wed +the Dauphin to spite me, or keep him and Scheyfne dangling on awhile +whilst trying to reconquer the volatile Duke's allegiance. But if Wessex +does not wed the Lady Ursula . . . what then? Will his friends prevail? +Yet there's more obstinacy than indolence in<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_119" id="Page_119">[Pg 119]</a></span> his composition, I fancy, +and the dubious position of King Consort would scarce suit his proud +Grace. Still, if I do not succeed in parting those two young people whom +my diplomacy hath brought together, then Mary Tudor sends me and the +Spanish Ambassador back to Philip to-morrow."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_120" id="Page_120">[Pg 120]</a></span></p> + +<h2 class="newchapter"><a name="CHAPTER_XVII" id="CHAPTER_XVII"></a>CHAPTER XVII<br /> +<span class="smalltext">AN ARMED TRUCE</span></h2> + + +<p>So intent was His Eminence in these complicated musings that he scarcely +noticed how fast the shadows gathered round him. He had gradually +wandered down towards the low wall which divided the Palace gardens from +the river beyond.</p> + +<p>He had always been very partial to this remote portion of the grounds, +for it was little frequented, and he felt that here at least in his +lonely walks he could lay aside that mask of perpetual blandness which +he was obliged to wear all day, whatever his moods might be.</p> + +<p>It was seldom that he met anybody when his footsteps led him thus far. +Great was his astonishment therefore when he suddenly spied a figure +leaning over the wall, evidently intent on prying into the darkness +below.</p> + +<p>The Cardinal drew nearer and recognized Lord Everingham, the closest +friend, the most intimate companion His Grace of Wessex was known to +have.</p> + +<p>The young man had not heard His Eminence's footsteps on the sanded path; +he started on hearing his name.</p> + +<p>"Ah! my lord Everingham," said the Cardinal lightly. "I little thought +to see any one here. I myself am fond of communing with Nature in these +gathering shadows; but you are a young man, there are gayer attractions +for you within the Palace."</p> + +<p>It was too dark by now even for His Eminence's keen eyes to read the +expression on Lord Everingham's face.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_121" id="Page_121">[Pg 121]</a></span> The astute diplomatist, however, +more than guessed what the young man's purpose was in thus scanning the +river. His Grace of Wessex had not yet returned to the Palace, and it +was generally known throughout the Court circle that Her Majesty was +furious at his absence.</p> + +<p>The Cardinal's ruse in the early part of the afternoon had been the +subject of universal gossip; sundry rumours had also been current that +the Duke had been seen in the company of the Queen's most beautiful +maid-of-honour.</p> + +<p>"Verily," thought His Eminence, "His Grace's partisans must be on +tenterhooks. All along they must have dreaded this meeting, which chance +and diplomacy has so unexpectedly brought about."</p> + +<p>Was not Wessex' position with regard to the Lady Ursula a peculiar one? +Tied to her and yet free, affianced, yet not necessarily bound, his own +attitude towards her was sure to be influenced by the girl's own +personality.</p> + +<p>And every cavalier and diplomatist now at Hampton Court readily conceded +that the daughter of the Earl of Truro was the most beautiful woman in +England, and the most likely to captivate the roving fancy of His Grace.</p> + +<p>No wonder that my lord of Everingham was anxious for the Duke's return, +before the Queen's access of pique and jealousy had found vent in sudden +revenge. But the young Englishman had no desire to display this anxiety +before his triumphant opponent.</p> + +<p>"Like your Eminence," he said carelessly, "I was lured into the garden +by the softness of the air. The river looked so cool and placid, and +'tis not often one can hear the nightingale in October."</p> + +<p>"Nay! your sudden fancy for the evening breeze is entirely my gain, my +dear lord," rejoined the Cardinal in his most suave manner; "as a matter +of fact I was, even at this moment, meditating how best I could secure +an interview with you."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_122" id="Page_122">[Pg 122]</a></span>"With me?"</p> + +<p>"Yes. Are you not His Grace of Wessex' most intimate friend?"</p> + +<p>"I have indeed that honour," replied Everingham stiffly, "but I do not +quite understand how——"</p> + +<p>"How the matter concerns me?" interrupted His Eminence pleasantly. "An +you will allow me, I can explain. Shall we walk along this path? I thank +you," he added courteously, as the young man, after a moment's +hesitation, turned to walk beside him.</p> + +<p>"Have I been misinformed," continued the Cardinal, "or is it a fact that +your lordship is about to quit Hampton Court?"</p> + +<p>"Only for a very few weeks," rejoined Everingham. "Her Majesty has +entrusted me with an amicable mission to the Queen Regent of Scotland. I +start for town to-night on my way North."</p> + +<p>"Ah! then I am only just in time," said His Eminence.</p> + +<p>"In time for what?"</p> + +<p>"In time to correct what we poor mortals are all liable to make, my +lord—an error."</p> + +<p>"Indeed!" said Everingham, with a touch of sarcasm. "Your Eminence must +make so few."</p> + +<p>"Nay! but the error this time is none of my making, my lord. 'Tis you, I +think, who look upon me as an enemy."</p> + +<p>"Oh! . . . your Eminence . . ." protested the young man.</p> + +<p>"Well, an antagonist, if you will. Confess that you thought—and still +think—that I have been scheming to bring the Duke of Wessex to the feet +of Lady Ursula Glynde, his promised wife."</p> + +<p>"A scheme in which Your Eminence succeeded over well, I fancy," retorted +Everingham bitterly.</p> + +<p>"But that is where you are in error, my dear lord; for,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_123" id="Page_123">[Pg 123]</a></span> believe me, +that, at the present moment, my sole desire is to put an insuperable +barrier between His Grace and that beautiful young lady."</p> + +<p>"Your sole desire, my lord?"</p> + +<p>As the night was dark Everingham could see nothing of His Eminence's +expression of face. If he had, he probably would only have seen the same +mask of polite blandness which the Cardinal usually wore.</p> + +<p>The young man, certes, was no match for these astute Spaniards, who had +all the wiles and artifices of diplomacy at their finger-tips; his love +for Wessex and the earnestness of his own political views gave him a +certain amount of shrewdness, but even that shrewdness was at fault in +the face of this extraordinary statement suddenly made by the Cardinal.</p> + +<p>"You are surprised?" commented His Eminence.</p> + +<p>"Boundlessly, I confess."</p> + +<p>"Ah! Diplomacy is full of surprises. But you are pleased?"</p> + +<p>Everingham, however, was not prepared to admit anything to this man, +whose face he could not read, but whose tortuous ways he more than half +mistrusted.</p> + +<p>"I hardly know how to understand Your Eminence," he said guardedly. "I +need hardly say that my fondest hope was to see Queen Mary wedded to +Wessex, for that is common knowledge. But since His Grace's meeting with +the beautiful Lady Ursula, I fully expect to hear him declare his +intention of keeping his troth to her."</p> + +<p>"You think her so very irresistible, then?—or His Grace so very +susceptible?"</p> + +<p>"I think that the Duke has always kept at the back of his mind an idea +that he was in some measure bound to Lady Ursula."</p> + +<p>"Let us add, my lord, that the charm and grace of the lady will +inevitably tend to develop that idea. Eh?"</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_124" id="Page_124">[Pg 124]</a></span>"And that Your Eminence will probably triumph in consequence."</p> + +<p>"You, therefore, my lord, have by now set your heart on undoing what +to-day's chance meeting may, perchance, have accomplished. By you I also +mean your friends, the nobility and gentry of England, who would mourn +to see His Grace wedded to Lady Ursula Glynde."</p> + +<p>"Our loss will be your Eminence's gain, probably," rejoined Everingham +with a sigh.</p> + +<p>The Cardinal waited a moment before he continued the conversation. He +had deliberately sought this interchange of ideas. Openness and +frankness in matters political were not usually a part of His Eminence's +programme, but this evening he seemed desirous to gain this young +Englishman's confidence.</p> + +<p>"But," he said after a while, with charming bonhomie, "but suppose that +instead of gloating in the triumph which you, my lord, so readily +prophesy—suppose that I were to ask you to let me help you—you and +your friends—in parting the volatile Duke from his latest flame? . . . +Would you accept my help?"</p> + +<p>"Your Eminence . . . I . . ." murmured Everingham, somewhat at a loss +what to say.</p> + +<p>"You would wish to consult with your friends, eh?" continued the +Cardinal placidly. "Lord Derby, Lord Bath, the Earl of Oxford—nay, the +whole string of patriotic Englishmen who desire to see one of their own +kind on the English throne, and naturally look upon me as a monster of +artifice and vice."</p> + +<p>"Your Eminence . . ." protested Everingham.</p> + +<p>"Yet what are we but political antagonists, who can honour one another +in private, whilst rending one another to pieces on the arena of public +life? Do you not agree with me, my lord?"</p> + +<p>"Certainly."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_125" id="Page_125">[Pg 125]</a></span>"Then why should you disdain my help, now that—momentarily—we have the +same object in view?"</p> + +<p>"I am <i>hors de cause</i>, Your Eminence, as I have only the next few hours +at my disposal. After that I go to Scotland."</p> + +<p>"Much may be done in a few hours, my lord, with an ounce of luck and a +grain of tact."</p> + +<p>"But I do not understand why Your Eminence should be at one with me and +my friends over this."</p> + +<p>The Cardinal smiled with gentle benevolence. Versed though he was in all +the tricks and deceptions which were an integral part of his calling, no +one knew better than he did the value of an occasional truth. With easy +familiarity he linked his arm in that of his interlocutor.</p> + +<p>"Nay! your lordship mocks me," he said with a light sigh. "From your +conversation I have already gathered that you and your friends suspect +me of having brought about this unwelcome meeting 'twixt His Grace of +Wessex and Lady Ursula Glynde. Is it not so?"</p> + +<p>"Marry . . ." began Everingham with some hesitation.</p> + +<p>"I pray you do not trouble to deny it. Let us admit that it is so. Do +you not think then that Queen Mary will have a like suspicion as +yourself?"</p> + +<p>"Probably."</p> + +<p>"And will, in consequence, turn the floods of her wrath on my innocent +head. A woman angered is capable of anything, my lord. My position at +this Court would become untenable. My mission probably would fail. Let +us say that by endeavouring to part His Grace from the Lady Ursula, I +would wish to give Her Majesty proof of the fact that I bore no part in +their chance meeting."</p> + +<p>"I understand," rejoined Everingham, still vaguely suspicious of any +ulterior motive lurking behind the Cardinal's apparent frankness, "but +. . ."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_126" id="Page_126">[Pg 126]</a></span>"Once His Grace is effectually parted from his new flame, the game will +stand once more as it did before the unfortunate episode of this +afternoon . . . unfortunate alike to your interests and to mine. Is that +not so?"</p> + +<p>"Certainly."</p> + +<p>"I feel, therefore, that until then we ought to be . . . well! if not +friends exactly . . . at least allies."</p> + +<p>"Only to resume hostilities again, Your Eminence?"</p> + +<p>"By all means."</p> + +<p>"Once His Grace has ceased to think of Lady Ursula, I and my party will +once more work heart and soul to bring about the alliance of Wessex with +the Queen."</p> + +<p>"And I to win the Queen's hand for Philip of Spain. Until then? . . ."</p> + +<p>"Armed truce, Your Eminence."</p> + +<p>"And you will accept my help? It may be worth having, you never can +tell," quoth His Eminence with a sarcastic smile, which Everingham could +not perceive in the darkness.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_127" id="Page_127">[Pg 127]</a></span></p> + +<h2 class="newchapter"><a name="CHAPTER_XVIII" id="CHAPTER_XVIII"></a>CHAPTER XVIII<br /> +<span class="smalltext">THE VEILED WITCH</span></h2> + + +<p>Lord Everingham felt not a little perplexed. The Cardinal seemed bent on +pressing his point, and on obtaining a definite promise of friendship, +whilst the young man would have preferred to leave the matter <i>in statu +quo</i>, a condition of open and avowed enmity.</p> + +<p>Moreover he would have wished to speak with some of his friends. Lord +Sussex and the Earl of Oxford were staying at the Palace. Sir Henry +Jerningham, Arundel, Cheyne, Paget, all hot partisans of Wessex, could +easily be communicated with. In the meanwhile Everingham was racking his +brain for the right word to say: the retort courteous, which would not +hopelessly alienate His Eminence, if indeed he was seeking temporary +friendship.</p> + +<p>Chance and a zealous night watchman put an abrupt end to Lord +Everingham's perplexity; even when he was about to speak, a gruff voice +which seemed to come right out of the darkness interrupted him with the +well-known call—</p> + +<p>"Who goes there?"</p> + +<p>Almost immediately afterwards the strong light of a lanthorn was +projected on the figure of the Cardinal.</p> + +<p>"How now, friend," quoth His Eminence presently, "art seeking for the +truth with that lanthorn of thine?"</p> + +<p>But already the knave, having recognized the brilliant crimson robes and +realized the high quality of their august wearer, had lost himself in a +veritable maze of humble apologies.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_128" id="Page_128">[Pg 128]</a></span>"I crave Your Eminence's merciful pardon," he stammered. "I did not +think . . . I am on duty . . . I . . ."</p> + +<p>His thin, shrivelled form was scarce distinguishable in the gloom, only +his old face, with large bottle-nose, and his pale, watery eyes appeared +grotesque and quaint in the yellowish light of his lanthorn.</p> + +<p>"Then fulfil thy duties, friend," rejoined the Cardinal, who made it a +point always to speak kindly and urbanely, even to the meanest lout.</p> + +<p>The man made a low obeisance and would have kissed His Eminence's hand, +but the latter withdrew it gently.</p> + +<p>"Are there marauders about, friend watchman?" he condescended to ask, as +the man prepared to go. "Thou dost not appear to be very strong, nor yet +stoutly armed."</p> + +<p>"Your Eminence's pardon," replied the man, "'tis for a woman I am told +to watch."</p> + +<p>"A woman?"</p> + +<p>"By Her Grace the Duchess of Lincoln's orders."</p> + +<p>"Ah!" remarked His Eminence, with sudden interest.</p> + +<p>"Mayhap some thief or vagrant, Your Eminence."</p> + +<p>"Aye, mayhap! Then go thy way, good watchman; we'll not hinder thee."</p> + +<p>Slowly the man shuffled off, dangling his lanthorn before him. The +Cardinal watched the patch of brilliant light until it disappeared +behind a projecting bosquet.</p> + +<p>His Eminence had been exceedingly thoughtful.</p> + +<p>"Know you aught of this, my lord?" he asked of Lord Everingham, who also +seemed wrapped in meditation.</p> + +<p>"I suspect something of it," replied the young man slowly. "There is a +story afloat—gossip, I thought it—that one of the Queen's +maids-of-honour has been playing some curious pranks at night . . . and +in disguise. . . ."</p> + +<p>"Indeed? Know you who the lady is?"</p> + +<p>"No! nor can I even guess. All the maids-of-honour are young and full of +fun, and no doubt the girlish pranks<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_129" id="Page_129">[Pg 129]</a></span> were harmless enough, but Her +Majesty is very austere and rigidly stern where questions of decorum are +concerned."</p> + +<p>"So the Duchess of Lincoln, like a watchful dragon, would catch the fair +miscreant <i>in flagrante delicto</i>, eh?" continued His Eminence.</p> + +<p>Mechanically he turned to walk along the path recently followed by the +night watchman. His Eminence would have scorned the idea of any +superstition influencing his precise, calculating mind, but, +nevertheless, he had a strange belief in the guiding hand of Chance, and +somehow at the present moment he had an unaccountable presentiment, that +this gossip anent some young girl's frolic would in some way exercise an +influence on his present schemes.</p> + +<p>As if in immediate answer to these very thoughts a woman's frightened +scream was suddenly heard close by, followed by muttered curses in the +watchman's gruff voice.</p> + +<p>"What was that?" exclaimed Everingham involuntarily.</p> + +<p>"The lady <i>in flagrante delicto</i>, meseems," rejoined the Cardinal +quietly.</p> + +<p>And both men began to walk more rapidly in the direction whence had come +the woman's scream. The next few moments brought them upon the scene, +and soon in the gloom they distinguished the figure of the old watchman +apparently struggling with a woman, whose head and shoulders were +enveloped in some sort of veil or hood. The lanthorn, evidently +violently thrown on the ground, had rolled down the path some little +distance from this group.</p> + +<p>The woman was making obvious and frantic efforts to get away, whilst the +old watchman exerted all his strength to keep tight hold of her wrists.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_130" id="Page_130">[Pg 130]</a></span>"What is it to thee, man, what I am doing here?" the woman gasped in the +midst of her struggles. "Let me go, I say!"</p> + +<p>She was evidently not very strong, for the old watchman, shrivelled and +shrunken though he was, had already mastered her. She had lost her +balance, and was soon down on her knees. With a vigorous wrench the man +contrived to force her arms behind her back; he held them there with one +hand, and with the other was groping in his wallet for a length of rope.</p> + +<p>"Not before thou hast given a good account of thyself before the Duchess +of Lincoln, my wench!" he said, as he threw the rope round her shoulders +and very dexterously contrived to pinion her arms behind her.</p> + +<p>"Her Grace?" she murmured contemptuously. "I have naught to do with Her +Grace. . . . Let me go, man; thou hast no right to tie me thus."</p> + +<p>"Now then, my girl, get up, will ye? and come along quietly with me. +. . . I'll not hurt ye . . . if ye come along quietly."</p> + +<p>The man helped her to struggle to her feet. Her veil or cloak had +evidently fallen from her head, for the Cardinal and Lord Everingham, +who were silently, and with no small measure of curiosity, watching the +strange spectacle, caught the glint of a woman's face and of bright +golden hair.</p> + +<p>The watchman was trying to lead her away towards the Palace.</p> + +<p>"Let me go, I tell thee," muttered the girl with persistent obstinacy. +"I have important business here, and . . ."</p> + +<p>But the old man laughed derisively.</p> + +<p>"Important business? . . . and prithee with whom, wench?"</p> + +<p>"With the Duke of Wessex . . ." she retorted<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_131" id="Page_131">[Pg 131]</a></span> after a slight hesitation, +"There! . . . now wilt let me go?"</p> + +<p>But the watchman laughed more immoderately than before.</p> + +<p>"Oho! . . . ho! ho! ho! that's a likely tale, my wench, there's many a +young woman has business with His Grace, I'll warrant. . . . But thou'st +best tell that tale to the Duchess of Lincoln first. . . . Business with +the Duke of Wessex . . . ha! ha! ha! . . ."</p> + +<p>"My friend," here interposed a gentle, very urbane voice, "meseems thy +zeal somewhat outruns thy discretion. If this child has indeed business +with the Duke of Wessex, His Grace might prefer that thou shouldst keep +a quieter tongue in thy head."</p> + +<p>The Cardinal, at sound of the Duke's name, had gradually drawn nearer to +the group. Lord Everingham, impelled by the same natural curiosity, had +followed him.</p> + +<p>"You would wish to speak with His Grace, child?" continued His Eminence +with that same gentle benevolence which inspired an infinity of +confidence in the unwary. "Do you know him?"</p> + +<p>The watchman, astonished, abashed, very highly perplexed at this +unexpected interference, was rendered absolutely speechless. The girl +had turned defiantly on her new interlocutor, whose outline she could +but vaguely distinguish in the darkness.</p> + +<p>"What's it to you?" she retorted with obvious suspicion and mistrust.</p> + +<p>"Not much I own," replied the Cardinal with imperturbable kindliness; "I +only thought that being alone and perhaps frightened you would be glad +of some help."</p> + +<p>"Your Eminence . . ." stammered the watchman, who was trying to recover +his speech.</p> + +<p>"Silence!" commanded His Eminence. "I wish to speak with this young +woman alone."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_132" id="Page_132">[Pg 132]</a></span>The worthy watchman had naught to do but to obey. There was no +questioning an order given by so great a lord as the Cardinal de Moreno +himself. The good man discreetly withdrew, His Eminence quietly waiting +until he was out of earshot.</p> + +<p>"Now, child, have no fear," said the Cardinal gently. "Tell me . . . you +wish to speak with the Duke of Wessex?"</p> + +<p>She turned resolutely towards him.</p> + +<p>"You'll take me to him?" she asked.</p> + +<p>"Perhaps," he replied.</p> + +<p>A great struggle must have been raging within her. Even through the +gloom His Eminence could see her shoulders and breast working +convulsively, whilst her breath came and went in quick, feverish gasps.</p> + +<p>"I have been watching in the gardens at night," she murmured at last; +"for he is a great lord, and I dared not approach him by day. He saved +my life . . . and I can read the stars. . . . I see that a great danger +threatens him. . . .</p> + +<p>"Oh! I must warn him," she added in a sudden outburst of passionate +vehemence. "I must go to him . . . I must."</p> + +<p>Lord Everingham tried to interpose, but His Eminence restrained him with +a quick touch upon his arm. The Cardinal's hands were beautiful, white +and caressing as those of a woman, delicately scented and be-ringed. He +passed them gently over the girl's head, whilst he whispered softly—</p> + +<p>"So you shall, child . . . so you shall. . . . Then, tell me . . . His +Grace saved your life, you say? and you are very grateful to him, of +course . . . more than that, perhaps . . . you love him very dearly, eh? +. . ."</p> + +<p>"What's that to you?" retorted the girl sullenly.</p> + +<p>Lord Everingham once more made as if he would interrupt this curious +interrogatory. His loyalty to his friend<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_133" id="Page_133">[Pg 133]</a></span> rebelled against this prying +into matters which might prove unpleasant for Wessex.</p> + +<p>That the girl was no Court lady out on some mad frolic was patent +enough, whilst the passionate ring of her voice, when she mentioned the +Duke's name, proved very clearly that she had seen him, and seeing him +had perhaps learnt to love him.</p> + +<p>Who knows? Some secret intrigue, not altogether avowable, might lie at +the bottom of this strange adventure. Everingham's heart misgave him at +the thought that Wessex' most open enemy should perhaps learn a secret +hitherto kept from all his friends.</p> + +<p>The girl, on the other hand, seemed willing to trust the Cardinal. She +repeated doggedly once or twice—</p> + +<p>"You'll take me to him? . . . at once? . . ."</p> + +<p>"If I can," replied His Eminence, still very protecting, very suave and +kind, "but not just now. . . . His Grace is with the Queen . . . you are +too sensible and earnest, I feel sure, to wish to intrude upon him. +. . . But will you not trust me a little while? . . . and I promise you +that you shall see him."</p> + +<p>"Nay! I've nothing to lose by trusting you or any one," she replied. "If +you do not take me to him, I'll find my way alone."</p> + +<p>"Come, that's brave independence. But, child, if I am to help you with +His Grace of Wessex, I must at least know who you are."</p> + +<p>"They call me Mirrab."</p> + +<p>At sound of the name Everingham started. One or two vague recollections, +in connection with the soothsayer of East Molesey Fair, seemed to be +chasing one another in his mind, but he could not give them definite +shape.</p> + +<p>A strange feeling, made up of uneasiness and shame, coupled with +excitement and intense curiosity, caused<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_134" id="Page_134">[Pg 134]</a></span> him to go and pick up the +watchman's lanthorn, which lay on the ground close by.</p> + +<p>When he was near the girl again he held it up, and the light fell full +on her face.</p> + +<p>Then he remembered.</p> + +<p>It was Mirrab, the necromancer, the kitchen wench, used by a vulgar +trickster to hoodwink some gullible burgesses and their dames at the +village fair, but whom Nature had, in one of her unaccountable freaks, +endowed with the same golden hair, the same exquisite features, the same +deep and wonderful eyes, as the most beautiful woman at Mary Tudor's +court, the Lady Ursula Glynde.</p> + +<p>The veil which usually enveloped Mirrab's head had fallen round her +shoulders; her dress was of coarse woollen stuff, open at the neck and +short in the sleeves; the arms and hands, rough and clumsy in shape, +betrayed the girl's humble origin, and the likeness to Lady Ursula was +confined to the face and hair. But it was there, nevertheless; quite +unmistakable, even bewildering to the two men who were gazing, +speechless, at this strange spectacle.</p> + +<p>Then Everingham put down the lanthorn. He dared not look at the +Cardinal, half fearing, perhaps, that the wild thoughts and schemes +which had suddenly arisen in his mind at sight of this extraordinary +freak of nature should have already found more definite shape in His +Eminence's astute and far-seeing brain.</p> + +<p>Strangely enough, at this moment, the practised diplomatist, the wily +and unscrupulous Spaniard, met the more simple-souled Englishman on +common ground, and at once felt sure of his co-operation.</p> + +<p>Both had the same end in view: a desire to break up any relationship +which may have sprung up between the Duke of Wessex and the beautiful +young girl, of whom this otherwise coarse wench was the perfect physical +counterpart. But the Spaniard was the quicker in thought<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_135" id="Page_135">[Pg 135]</a></span> and in action. +Whilst Everingham still vaguely wondered how the extraordinary +resemblance might be utilized to gain that great end which he had in +view, the Cardinal had already formed and matured a plan.</p> + +<p>He took the veil from Mirrab's shoulders and once more drew it over her +head. Then he undid the clumsy knot with which the watchman had pinioned +her hands. Mirrab remained perfectly passive the while; she seemed under +the magic spell of the soft, velvety hands, which had, as it were, taken +possession of her person.</p> + +<p>The two men had not exchanged one word since the light of the lanthorn +had revealed the strange secret to them; they seemed to be acting in +perfect accord. There was no longer any need for protestation of outward +friendship, or for cementing the compact of temporary alliance.</p> + +<p>Everingham once more picked up the lanthorn and went in search of the +watchman, in order to dismiss him with a word of command and to ensure +his silence with a threat and a few silver coins. The man, of course, +knew nothing of the importance of the event which he had unwittingly +brought about. He may have vaguely wondered in his mind why His Eminence +the Spanish Cardinal should take such a keen interest in a female +vagrant, found trespassing on royal ground. But the few pieces of silver +given to him by the noble lord, soon silenced even this transitory +astonishment.</p> + +<p>Stolidly he resumed his nightly round, satisfied that he need no longer +look for lurking thieves in the park.</p> + +<p>When Everingham, having seen the last of the watchman, returned to the +spot where he had left His Eminence and Mirrab, he found that both had +disappeared.</p> + +<hr class="wide" /> + +<h2><a name="PART_III" id="PART_III"></a>PART III<br /> +<span class="smalltext">A GAME OF CHESS</span></h2> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_139" id="Page_139">[Pg 139]</a></span></p> + +<h2 class="newchapter"><a name="CHAPTER_XIX" id="CHAPTER_XIX"></a>CHAPTER XIX<br /> +<span class="smalltext">THE PAWNS</span></h2> + + +<p>The evening banquet had been anything but gay.</p> + +<p>The Queen, as was oft her wont, had hardly said a word. The Cardinal de +Moreno looked thoughtful and His Grace of Wessex was singularly silent.</p> + +<p>Directly after supper Her Majesty retired to her own apartments, +accompanied by her ladies, leaving behind her that desultory atmosphere +of dull and purposeless conversation, which hangs round a supper table +in the absence of the fair sex.</p> + +<p>The brilliant assembly broke up into small groups. The Earl of Pembroke +and two or three other lords were leaving for Scotland towards midnight; +their friends gathered round them to bid them God-speed. In the deep +embrasure of the great bay His Grace of Wessex was in earnest conference +with Lord Winchester and Sir William Drury, whilst at one end of the +long centre table half a dozen young gallants were idling over a game of +hazard.</p> + +<p>But there was a feeling of obsession in the air—a sense as if something +momentous was about to happen. Whispered rumours, more or less +conflicting, were afloat, yet nothing definite was known. On the other +hand, idle, far-stretched gossip was rife and was even growing in +extravagance as the evening wore on.</p> + +<p>No one had been present on the terrace to witness the little incident +which occurred there earlier in the afternoon<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_140" id="Page_140">[Pg 140]</a></span> save the three +distinguished actors in the brief comedy scene. Obviously from them +nothing could be gleaned. The Queen and the Cardinal would not be like +to enlighten the curious, whilst the Duke of Wessex, at all times +reserved and unapproachable, could not be asked to give his version of +the event.</p> + +<p>The foreign envoys had very soon followed the example set by Her Majesty +and withdrawn from the circle, which seemed more hostile to them than +usual to-night. The Cardinal de Moreno and the Marquis de Suarez were +the first to go. They occupied the magnificent suite of chambers wherein +ill-fated Wolsey had lived, schemed, and fallen. The more sumptuous +series of rooms beyond—those built with lavish extravagance by King +Henry VIII for his own personal use—had been placed at the disposal of +His Grace of Wessex and his numerous retinue.</p> + +<p>Between the Duke's apartments and those allotted to the envoys of the +King of Spain was the fine audience chamber, used by the Queen herself +or by her more distinguished guests for the reception of important +visitors. It was here that Lord Everingham, anxious, perturbed, vaguely +ashamed of his own actions, had sought out the Cardinal de Moreno after +the banquet and begged for an interview.</p> + +<p>His Eminence, suave, urbane, a veritable mirror of benevolence, had +received him with a smile of welcome on his lips and a wealth of kindly +reproach in his eyes.</p> + +<p>"Ah, my lord!" he said to the young man, as soon as the servants had +withdrawn, "Nature, I fear me, hath not intended you for a diplomatist."</p> + +<p>"How so?"</p> + +<p>"This interview to-night, with me—was it necessary?"</p> + +<p>"I could not rest," said Everingham impulsively, "until——"</p> + +<p>"Until you had proclaimed it to the entire Court in<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_141" id="Page_141">[Pg 141]</a></span> general, and to His +Grace of Wessex in particular, that you had a secret understanding with +his political rival, the Spanish ambassador," rejoined His Eminence +drily.</p> + +<p>"An interview . . ."</p> + +<p>"Have you ever honoured me thus before, my lord?—you or any of your +friends?"</p> + +<p>"No . . . perhaps not . . . I only requested a brief <i>tête-à-tête</i>. +. . ."</p> + +<p>"And had I refused that dangerous <i>tête-à-tête</i>, what would you have +done?"</p> + +<p>"Demanded it," replied Everingham hotly. "I must know what has happened, +and what you intend to do."</p> + +<p>His Eminence threw a quick look at the young man, a look half of pity, +half of contempt. For a moment it seemed as if an angry retort hovered +upon his lips. But he merely shrugged his shoulders and said blandly—</p> + +<p>"You are very expert at the game of chess, my lord, so they tell me."</p> + +<p>"I have played it a great many times," rejoined Everingham, a little +astonished at the sudden transition.</p> + +<p>"Ah! and have become very proficient, I understand. Will you honour me +by playing a game with me?"</p> + +<p>"Now?"</p> + +<p>"Why not?"</p> + +<p>"The lateness of the hour . . . I start for Scotland almost directly."</p> + +<p>"Yet in spite of these difficulties you sought a casual interview with +an avowed political enemy."</p> + +<p>"No one need know . . ." stammered the young man, slightly abashed.</p> + +<p>"Every one inside this Palace knows by now that my lord of Everingham, +the intimate friend at His Grace of Wessex, is closeted alone with the +envoy of His Majesty the King of Spain," rejoined His Eminence with +slow<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_142" id="Page_142">[Pg 142]</a></span> emphasis. "Believe me, my lord, a game of chess is the wisest +course."</p> + +<p>"Will you tell me first . . ."</p> + +<p>"I can tell your lordship nothing, except across the chess board."</p> + +<p>"Well! . . . since you wish it . . ."</p> + +<p>"My wishes have naught to do with this matter. I was following the most +elementary dictates of prudence."</p> + +<p>He touched the handbell and rang. A liveried servant appeared.</p> + +<p>"Had I not told thee, sirrah," said His Eminence, "that my lord +Everingham had kindly consented to give me my <i>revanche</i> at chess ere he +departed? How is it that the board has not been prepared?"</p> + +<p>"I crave Your Eminence's most humble pardon," protested the man in +confusion. "I had not understood . . ."</p> + +<p>"Not understood?" laughed the Cardinal good-naturedly. "Marry! the knave +doth impugn my knowledge of the English tongue."</p> + +<p>"I would not presume, Your Eminence . . ."</p> + +<p>"Tush, man! hold thy tongue and repair thy negligence. Where's the +board? His lordship hath but an hour to spare."</p> + +<p>Everingham watched with ill-concealed impatience the elaborate +preparations made for the game. He thought it quite unnecessary, and had +he dared he would have refused to join in the senseless deception. But +in this matter he had ceased to trust his own judgment, and, much +against his will, was allowing the Cardinal to take the lead. He felt +out of his own intellectual depths in this slough of intrigue wherein he +had so impulsively ventured, and out of which he now felt incapable of +extricating himself.</p> + +<p>Simple-minded and loyal to the core, he had a horror of any treachery +against his friend. No other consideration<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_143" id="Page_143">[Pg 143]</a></span> would ever have prompted him +to join in an underhand scheme with the Spanish Cardinal, save his own +earnest faith in the ultimate good which would accrue therefrom, both to +the country at large and to Wessex himself. With his whole heart and +soul he believed that, at this moment, the Duke's marriage with Lady +Ursula Glynde would be nothing short of a national calamity.</p> + +<p>Reluctantly, he sat down to the board at last. His Eminence, opposite to +him, was shading his face with his delicate white hand, and at first +seemed absorbed in the intricacies of the game. Two servitors were still +busy about the room. One of them asked if His Eminence would desire more +light.</p> + +<p>But the Cardinal preferred the fitful flicker of a few wax tapers. He +liked the fantastic shadows which left the greater part of the vast +chamber in gloom. Lord Everingham was a noted and very proficient +player; His Eminence was enjoying the game thoroughly.</p> + +<p>"Check to your king, my lord Cardinal," said the young Englishman at +last.</p> + +<p>"Only a temporary check, you see, my lord," rejoined His Eminence, as +with slender, tapering fingers he moved one of the ivory pieces on the +board. "By the help of this one little pawn, the safety of the whole +combination is assured, and 'tis your knight now which is in serious +danger."</p> + +<p>"Not serious, I think, Your Eminence, and once more check to your king."</p> + +<p>Even as he spoke the two servitors finally left the room, closing the +heavy doors noiselessly behind them.</p> + +<p>"Oh!" said the Cardinal thoughtfully, "this will necessitate a bolder +move on my part. You mark, my son," he added as soon as he had made a +move, "how beautifully Nature herself plays into our hands: you and I +desired to part His Grace of Wessex effectually and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_144" id="Page_144">[Pg 144]</a></span> for ever from his +beautiful affianced bride. Two hours ago this seemed impossible, and +lo!—a girl comes across our path: low-born, brainless, probably a +wanton, yet the very physical counterpart of virtuous Lady Ursula, +and——"</p> + +<p>"Check," said Everingham drily, as he moved his castle.</p> + +<p>"Nay! nay! we'll once more move this little pawn," rejoined His +Eminence, with his usual pleasant benevolence, "and see how simple the +plan becomes."</p> + +<p>"'Tis of that plan I longed to hear."</p> + +<p>"So you shall, my son, so you shall," said the Cardinal very kindly. +"What would you wish to know?"</p> + +<p>"The girl Mirrab?—Where is she?"</p> + +<p>"In Don Miguel de Suarez rooms, dressing herself in quaint finery, +collected for the purpose by my faithful servant Pasquale, who has a +valuable female friend in the Queen's own entourage. A silk kirtle, rich +white robes, some fantastic ornaments for the hair, and the likeness +'twixt our Mirrab and the high-born Lady Ursula will be more strangely +apparent than ever. Your turn to move, my lord. I pray you do not lose +the thread of this interesting game."</p> + +<p>"'Tis easy enough to lose oneself in the mazes of Your Eminence's +diplomacy," quoth the young man anxiously. "Having dressed the girl up +in all that finery, what do you propose to do?"</p> + +<p>His Eminence was silent for awhile; he seemed absorbed in an elaborate +strategical combination, directed against his opponent's king. Then he +moved his queen right across the board and said quietly—</p> + +<p>"What do I propose to do, my lord? Only, with the aid of that diplomacy +which you English affect to despise, contrive that His Grace of Wessex +should see a lady—whom he will naturally mistake for the Lady Ursula +Glynde—in a highly compromising situation, and the love idyll begun +this afternoon will abruptly end to-night."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_145" id="Page_145">[Pg 145]</a></span>"But how?"</p> + +<p>"Ah, my lord! surely we must trust Chance a little. The fickle jade has +served us well already."</p> + +<p>"I'll not allow a pure woman's reputation to be sullied by any dastardly +trick . . ." began Everingham hotly.</p> + +<p>"Pray, my lord, what is your definition of a dastardly trick?" rejoined +His Eminence suavely. "Is it the use made by a political opponent of +every means, fair or foul, to accomplish his own aims, which he +considers great and just? or is it the work of a friend—an intimate, +confidential friend—joining issue for the like purpose? Nay, nay! +understand me, my dear lord," he added, with an infinity of gentle +kindliness expressed in the almost paternal tone of his voice, "'twas +not I, remember, who ever thought to blame you. Your aims and ambitions +are as selfless as mine own: for the moment our purpose is the same. +Will you honour me by allowing me to show you the way of attaining that +purpose, quickly and surely? I'll not ask you to lend me a hand. I would +gladly have kept from you the knowledge of my own intricate diplomacy. +Why should you fear for the Lady Ursula? Is her reputation in your eyes +of greater moment than the success of your schemes?—yours and all your +faction, remember."</p> + +<p>"Ah! there you have me, my lord," rejoined Everingham with a sigh. "All +England is at one with us in a burning desire to see Wessex wedded to +our Queen. But this is where your diplomacy escapes me. Once Wessex is +turned away from the Lady Ursula, he will, we hope, naturally turn to +the Queen, who loves him passionately, and . . . Check!" he added, +moving one of his pieces.</p> + +<p>"Ah! you press me hard. Your lordship is a skilful player," said the +Cardinal, intently studying the board. "As for me, you see I seem to +move my pawns somewhat aimlessly. For the moment, I wish to part His +Grace of Wessex from Lady Ursula . . . after that—we shall see."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_146" id="Page_146">[Pg 146]</a></span>Everingham was silent. A truly bitter conflict was raging in his simple +heart. Loyalty to his friend, love for his country, and an overwhelming +anxiety for its welfare, cried out loudly within him. The very thought +of meeting Wessex face to face at this moment was terrible to him, and +yet he would not undo what he had already done, and would not thwart the +Spaniard's tortuous schemes by betraying them to the Duke.</p> + +<p>The purpose which he had in view blinded him to everything save the hope +of its ultimate achievement. At this moment he felt that, if Wessex +shared Mary Tudor's throne with her, so much that was great and good +would come to England thereby, that all petty considerations of +temporary disloyalty, or the reputation of one innocent woman, would +quickly vanish into insignificance.</p> + +<p>The very feelings of remorse and of shame which he was experiencing at +this moment strengthened him in his faith, for he was suffering keenly +and acutely to the very depths of his honest heart, and he imagined that +he was earning a crown of martyrdom thereby; he believed that by +trampling on his own prejudices and jeopardizing his friendship with the +man he loved and honoured best in all the world, he was adding to the +cause, which he held to be sacred, the additional lustre of +self-sacrifice.</p> + +<p>His Eminence no doubt knew all this. With his intimate knowledge of the +foibles of mankind, he found it an easy task enough to probe the inner +thoughts of the transparent soul before him. He divined the young man's +doubts and fears, the battle waged within him betwixt an abstruse +political aim and his own upright nature. The game was continued in +silence, Everingham's state of mind being revealed in the one bitter +sigh—</p> + +<p>"Ah! I go away with a heavy heart, feeling that I have helped to commit +a treachery."</p> + +<p>The Cardinal looked benevolently compassionate. At<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_147" id="Page_147">[Pg 147]</a></span> heart he was more +than glad to think that this blundering Englishman would be well out of +the way. Could he have foreseen the marvellous turn by which Fate meant +to aid him in his intrigue, he would never have made overtures to so +clumsy an ally as Lord Everingham. But at the time he had been driven +into a corner through the furious jealousy of the Queen, who had +well-nigh staggered him.</p> + +<p>His Eminence then did not know how to act. For the first time in his +life he had been completely outwitted by the events which he himself had +helped to bring about. They had shaped themselves in exact opposition to +his keenest expectations. How to part Wessex from Lady Ursula, with whom +his volatile Grace was probably by then more than half in love, became +an almost insolvable problem.</p> + +<p>The Queen's ultimatum was almost a fiat. His Eminence saw himself and +his retinue ignominiously quitting the English Court and +returning—baffled, vanquished, humbled—to the throne of an infuriated +monarch, who never forgave and always knew how to punish.</p> + +<p>In despair the Cardinal had turned to an ally. He knew that His Grace +was quite inaccessible. Towards all the foreign ambassadors the Duke of +Wessex was always ensconced behind a barrier of unbendable hauteur and +of frigid reserve. It would have been impossible to attack the lady of +his choice openly, and in offering his own help to Everingham His +Eminence vaguely hoped to arrive at some half-hidden mystery, a secret +perhaps in His Grace's life which would have helped him to strike in the +dark.</p> + +<p>Then Fate interposed: exactly ten minutes too late, and when the +Cardinal had already saddled himself with an over-scrupulous, +vacillating, ultra-honest ally. He could not now throw him over without +endangering the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_148" id="Page_148">[Pg 148]</a></span> success of his own schemes, and therefore brought all +his powers of dissimulation into play to effectually hide the impatience +which he felt.</p> + +<p>The entrance of Don Miguel, Marquis de Suarez, created a diversion.</p> + +<p>"Ah, my dear Marquis," said His Eminence, with a sigh of relief, "your +arrival is most opportune. I pray you help me to persuade Lord +Everingham that we are not scheming black treachery against His Grace of +Wessex."</p> + +<p>Don Miguel came forward, a smile of the keenest satisfaction upon his +lips.</p> + +<p>"Why treachery?" he said lightly.</p> + +<p>But Everingham, having heard all that there was to know, was now in a +hurry to depart. Having made up his mind to go through with his purpose +to the end, he had but one wish—to turn his back upon the events which +he had helped to bring about, and let them take their course.</p> + +<p>With it all he felt a keen antipathy for these two plotters who had +drawn him into their net. Whilst acting in concert with these Spaniards, +he had an overwhelming desire to insult them or throw his contempt in +their smooth, clever faces.</p> + +<p>"Check and mate, my lord Cardinal," he said drily, as he took advantage +of His Eminence's absence of mind to bring the game to a successful +close. Then he rose to go. He was already booted and spurred for his +journey northwards, and had unhitched his sword-belt when settling down +to play. Whilst he was buckling it on again, Don Miguel approached him.</p> + +<p>"I entreat you, milor, do not talk of treachery," said the young +Spaniard earnestly. "Believe me that in this matter, your conscience is +over-sensitive. After all, what does His Eminence propose? Only this, +that for a little while—a few days only perhaps—His Grace of Wessex +should be led to believe, through the testimony of his own<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_149" id="Page_149">[Pg 149]</a></span> eyes, that +the Lady Ursula Glynde is not altogether worthy to become Duchess of +Wessex. The wench Mirrab will play her part unconsciously, and therefore +to perfection. No one but His Grace shall be witness of the scene which +we propose to enact, and though his disenchantment will be complete, do +you think that he will greatly suffer thereby? Surely you do not imagine +that he has fallen seriously in love with Lady Ursula in one hour: his +own amour-propre will suffer a very transitory pang <i>et tout sera dit</i>."</p> + +<p>"The Duke of Wessex will never break his heart or quarrel with a friend +for the sake of a woman," added the Cardinal in his smooth, gentle +voice.</p> + +<p>"Like the bee, His Grace lingers over a flower only whilst he finds the +perfume sweet," continued Don Miguel. "If he thinks the Lady Ursula +false, he will turn to some other pretty maid with an indulgent smile +for woman's frailty."</p> + +<p>All this sounded plausible enough, and Lord Everingham, at war with his +own conscience, was only too willing to be persuaded that he was in no +way wronging his friend. One scruple, however, still held him back and +would not be denied.</p> + +<p>"There is one person in all this, my lord Marquis," he said, "whom I +notice you and His Eminence scarce trouble to think about."</p> + +<p>"Who is that, milor?"</p> + +<p>"The Lady Ursula Glynde!"</p> + +<p>"Bah! What of her?"</p> + +<p>"A girl's reputation, my lord, is in England held to be sacred."</p> + +<p>"Why should her reputation suffer? Who will gossip of this affair? You? +I'll not believe it! His Grace of Wessex?—perish the thought. Nay! to +satisfy that over-sensitive conscience of yours, milor, may I remind<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_150" id="Page_150">[Pg 150]</a></span> +you that you are not pledged to secrecy. If on your return from Scotland +you find that the Lady Ursula's reputation has suffered in any way +through the little scheme which we purpose, you will be at liberty to +right the innocent and to confound the guilty. Is that not so, Your +Eminence?"</p> + +<p>"You have said it, my son," replied the Cardinal.</p> + +<p>"Well, are you satisfied, milor?" queried Don Miguel, who at an +impatient sign from the Cardinal was courteously leading Everingham +towards the door.</p> + +<p>"I feel somewhat easier in my mind, perhaps," responded the young man. +"I dare admit that His Eminence and yourself are more right in your +surmises than I am. But I have the honour of calling His Grace of Wessex +my friend, and I have an earnest wish in my heart that I could stay +another twenty-four hours here, to see that no grievous harm come to him +from all this."</p> + +<p>With a heavy sigh he finally took up his cloak and bade adieu to the two +Spaniards.</p> + +<p>Don Miguel escorted him as far as the cloisters, until a servitor took +charge of his lordship. Then he turned back to the audience chamber, +where he found His Eminence sitting placidly in a high-backed arm-chair.</p> + +<p>"Marry! this was the most unprofitable half-hour I have ever spent in my +life," quoth the Cardinal with a half-smothered yawn, and speaking in +his own native tongue. "These English are indeed impossible with their +scruples and their conscience, their friendships and their prejudices. +Carramba! what would become of Europe if such follies had to be pandered +to?"</p> + +<p>"By the Mass! 'tis a mighty lucky chance which hath sent that blundering +young fool to the frozen kingdom of Scotland to-night," rejoined Don +Miguel with a laugh.</p> + +<p>"Chance, my son, is an obedient slave and a cruel mistress. Let us yoke +her to our war-chariot whilst she seems amenable to our schemes. I'll +now retire to chapel<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_151" id="Page_151">[Pg 151]</a></span> and read my breviary there until Her Majesty hath +need of me for her evening orisons. Her curiosity will not allow her to +dispense with my services to-night, though she showed me the cold +shoulder throughout the banquet. There's a good deal which devolves upon +you, my son. Seek out His Grace of Wessex as soon as you can for the +special interview which we have planned. I pray you be light-hearted and +natural. It should not be a difficult task for Don Miguel de Suarez to +play the part of a young and callous reprobate. I, the while, will watch +my opportunity, and will have our dramatic little scene well in +rehearsal by the time the Duke retires to his own apartments. He must +cross this audience chamber to reach them. . . . There shall be no +garish light . . . only an open window and the moon if she will favour +us. . . . One short glimpse at the wench shall be sufficient. . . . I +will contrive that it be brief but decisive. . . . Your talk with His +Grace will have paved the way. . . . I will contrive . . . Chance will +aid me, but I <i>will</i> contrive."</p> + +<p>The voice was changed. It was no longer suave now, but harsh and +determined, cruel too in its slow, cold monotones. His Eminence paused +awhile, then said more quietly—</p> + +<p>"What is the wench doing now?"</p> + +<p>"Gazing in rapt admiration at her own face in the mirror," replied Don +Miguel lightly, "and incessantly talking of the Duke of Wessex, whom she +vows she will see before the dawn. She mutters a good deal about the +stars, and some danger which she says threatens her dear lord. Ha! ha! +ha!"</p> + +<p>His laugh sounded hoarse and bitter, and there was a glimmer of hatred +in his deep-set, dark Spanish eyes. There was obviously no love lost +here 'twixt His Grace and these schemers, for His Eminence's bland +unctuousness looked just now as dangerous as the younger man's hate.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_152" id="Page_152">[Pg 152]</a></span>"Does she talk intelligently?" asked the Cardinal.</p> + +<p>"Intelligently? No!" quoth Don Miguel. "Awhile ago she talked +intelligibly enough, but three bumpers of heavy Spanish wine have addled +her feeble wits by now. I doubt me but the wench was always half crazed. +I thought so when I saw her in that booth, covered with tinsel and +uttering ridiculous incantations."</p> + +<p>"She might prove dangerous too," remarked His Eminence softly.</p> + +<p>"To the man who thwarted her—yes!"</p> + +<p>"Then, if His Grace should find out the deception, and, mayhap, were +none too lenient with her, she would . . ."</p> + +<p>He did not complete the sentence, and after a moment or two said +blandly—</p> + +<p>"In either case, meseems, chance is bound to favour us. Our good +Pasquale shall see that the wench is provided with a short dagger, eh? +. . . of English make . . . and with unerring and . . . poisoned blade. +. . . What? . . ."</p> + +<p>There was silence between the two men after that. The thought which now +reigned in both their minds was too dark to be put into more precise +words.</p> + +<p>Don Miguel took up a cloak, which was lying on a chair, and wrapped it +round him. His Eminence drew a breviary from his pocket and settled +himself more comfortably in the high-backed chair. Don Miguel turned to +go, but at the door he paused and came back close to where the Cardinal +was sitting. Then he said quietly—</p> + +<p>"Is Your Eminence prepared for <i>that</i> eventuality too?"</p> + +<p>"We must always be prepared for any eventuality, my son," replied the +Cardinal gently.</p> + +<p>Then he became absorbed in his breviary, whilst Don Miguel slowly +strolled out of the room.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_153" id="Page_153">[Pg 153]</a></span></p> + +<h2 class="newchapter"><a name="CHAPTER_XX" id="CHAPTER_XX"></a>CHAPTER XX<br /> +<span class="smalltext">DEPARTURE</span></h2> + + +<p>Everingham could not leave the Palace without bidding farewell to +Wessex. For the first time in his life he wished to avoid his friend, +yet feared to arouse suspicion, mistrust—what not? in the heart of the +man whom he was so unwillingly helping to deceive. He half feared now +the frank and searching eyes which had always rested on him with +peculiar kindness and friendship; he almost dreaded having to grasp the +slender, aristocratic hand, which had ever been extended to him in +loyalty and truth.</p> + +<p>Nevertheless in his heart there was no desire to draw back. During his +lengthy colloquy with His Eminence he had weighed all the consequences +of his own actions; though misguided perhaps as to the means, led away +by a stronger will than his own, his purpose was pure and his aim high; +and though he had tortured his brain with conjectures and fears, he +could not see any danger to Wessex in the intrigue devised against him.</p> + +<p>As for Lady Ursula, he swore to himself that no harm should ultimately +come to her. She would be a tool, a necessary pawn in this game of +cross-purposes, which had the freedom and greatness of England for its +ultimate aim.</p> + +<p>With a firm step Everingham reached the Great Hall, where one by one the +company was slowly dispersing. The Earl of Pembroke had gone to his +rooms to prepare for the journey; his friends were ready in the +Fountain<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_154" id="Page_154">[Pg 154]</a></span> Court to bid him a final farewell. Some of the younger men +were still whispering in groups in various parts of the hall, whilst +others were continuing their game of hazard.</p> + +<p>Everingham took a rapid look round. There, in the embrasure on the dais, +Wessex was conversing with the Earl of Oxford, whilst faithful Harry +Plantagenet lay calmly sleeping at his feet. The Duke's grave face +lighted up at sight of his friend.</p> + +<p>"I thought I should have missed you," he said, grasping the young man +warmly by the hand. "My lord of Oxford was just telling me that he +thought you would be starting anon."</p> + +<p>"Should I have gone without your God-speed?"</p> + +<p>"I trust not indeed. But your game of chess, meseems, must have been +very engrossing."</p> + +<p>Lord Everingham felt himself changing colour. Fortunately his back was +to the light, and the Duke could not have seen the slight start of alarm +which followed his simple remark. In a flash Everingham had realized how +true had been His Eminence's conjecture. Wessex had already heard of the +interview in the audience chamber. The game of chess had undoubtedly +proved a useful explanation for so unusual an incident.</p> + +<p>"Oh! His Eminence is passionately fond of the game," rejoined Everingham +as lightly as he could, "and I could not help but accede to his request +for a final battle of skill with him, since probably I may not see him +on my return."</p> + +<p>But he felt His Grace's earnest eyes fixed searchingly upon him. A wild +longing seized him to throw off the mantle of diplomacy, which became +him so ill, and to give a word of timely warning to his friend. The +sight of the beautiful boarhound, so faithful, so watchful, at the feet +of his master, became almost intolerable to his overwrought mind. +Perhaps he would have spoken even now,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_155" id="Page_155">[Pg 155]</a></span> at this eleventh hour, when from +the court outside there came the sharp sound of bugle-call.</p> + +<p>Harry Plantagenet, roused from his light sleep, had pricked his ears.</p> + +<p>"I fear me 'tis to horse, friend," said Wessex, with a light tone of +sadness, "Marry! it likes me not to see you depart. Harry Plantagenet +and I will miss you sorely in this dull place, and I will miss your +loyal hand amongst so many enemies."</p> + +<p>"Enemies, my dear lord!" protested Everingham warmly. "Look around this +Great Hall at this moment. Now that the foreign ambassadors have +departed, do you see aught but friends? Nay more, adherents, partisans, +faithful subjects, an you choose," he added significantly.</p> + +<p>"Friends to-day," mused His Grace, "enemies perhaps to-morrow."</p> + +<p>"Impossible."</p> + +<p>"Even if . . . But by the Lord Harry, this is no time to talk of my +affairs," rejoined Wessex light-heartedly. "Farewell, friends, and +God-speed. . . . Harry, make your bow to the most loyal man in +England—you'll not see his like until he return from Scotland. In your +ear, my dear lord, I pray you be not astonished if when that happy +eventuality occurs, you find me no longer a free man. Come, Harry, shall +we bid him adieu at the gates?"</p> + +<p>He linked his arm in that of Everingham, the group of gentlemen parted +to let him pass, then closed behind him, and followed him and his friend +out of the hall. Every one was glad of a diversion from the oppressive +atmosphere of the last few hours. Many murmured: "God bless Your Grace!" +as he passed through the brilliant assembly exchanging a word, a merry +jest with his friends, a courteous bow or gracious smile with the casual +acquaintances.</p> + +<p>His popularity at this moment was at its height. Nothing would have +caused greater joy in England than<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_156" id="Page_156">[Pg 156]</a></span> the announcement of his plighted +troth to the Queen. Yet if these gentlemen, who so eagerly pressed round +him as he escorted his dearest friend through the hall, had been gifted +with the knowledge of their fellow-creatures' innermost thoughts, they +might have read in His Grace's heart the opening chapters of a romance +which would have changed their enthusiasm into bitter disappointment. +They would have seen that in that heart, wherein they hoped to see their +Queen enthroned, there now reigned a dainty image, that of a young girl +dressed in shimmering white, with ruddy golden hair falling loosely +about her shoulders, and deep, dark eyes, now blue, now grey, now +inscrutably black, the mirrors of a pure, innocent, joyous soul within.</p> + +<p>As for Everingham, all his desire to warn Wessex had vanished with the +latter's lightly spoken allusion to the incident of this afternoon. He +was now only conscious of a desire to get away, and thus leave events to +shape their course according to the dictates of my lord Cardinal.</p> + +<p>Everything was ready for the departure. The gentlemen who composed the +mission sent by Mary Tudor to the Queen Regent of Scotland were +proceeding to Edinburgh by water. They would ride to Greenwich to-night, +then embark in the early dawn.</p> + +<p>The horses were pawing the ground impatiently; every one had assembled +in the Fountain Court, which presented an animated and picturesque +spectacle, with the crowd of servants and the numerous retinue which was +to accompany the Earl of Pembroke to Scotland. A number of torch-bearers +lent fantastic aspect to the scene, for a lively breeze had sprung up, +blowing the fitful flames hither and thither, bringing into bold relief +now the richly caparisoned steed of one of the noblemen, now the steel +helmets of the military escort, anon throwing everything into deep, +impenetrable shadow whilst touching with<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_157" id="Page_157">[Pg 157]</a></span> weird, red light some +grotesque vane or leaden waterspout on the walls of the Palace.</p> + +<p>The Earl of Pembroke took a long farewell from His Grace of Wessex. +Himself one of the most fervent adherents of the Duke, he was longing +for a word, a promise however vague, that the much-desired alliance +would indeed soon take place.</p> + +<p>Wessex lingered some time beside Everingham. He seemed strangely loath +to part from his fondest friend just now. The crowd around him were +chattering merrily, the young men feeling the usual, natural +exhilaration of manhood at sight of this goodly cavalcade, and the sound +of clattering arms, the champing of bits, and quick, sharp calls to +assemble.</p> + +<p>Then, at a given moment, one of the bays of King Henry's presence +chamber was thrown open, and the Queen herself appeared at the window. A +shout of welcome was raised, such as could only come from faithful and +loyal hearts.</p> + +<p>Mary was surrounded by some of her ladies. The strong light of the room +was behind her, so that she appeared as a silhouette, dignified, rather +stiff in her corseted panier of rich brocade, her head slightly bent +forward as if in anxious search of some one in the crowd.</p> + +<p>"God bless our Queen," said the Duke of Wessex loudly, and the words +were taken up again and again by two hundred lusty throats, gentlemen +and servants all alike, and the cry echoed against the massive walls of +old Hampton Court like a solemn prayer.</p> + +<p>Not a few voices then added: "God bless His Grace of Wessex!" The Queen +had recognized the Duke's voice. When she heard this second cry, every +one noticed that she pressed her hand to her heart, as if overcome with +emotion. Then she waved an adieu from the window and hastily retired +within.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_158" id="Page_158">[Pg 158]</a></span>The signal for departure was given. A few belated gentlemen quickly +sprang to the stirrup—Everingham being among the last. With a deafening +noise of clattering steel the military escort led the way, the halberds +gleaming like tongues of flame in the torchlight as the men-at-arms +lowered them in order to pass through the gates.</p> + +<p>Then followed the Earl of Pembroke with Lord Everingham by his side, and +the other gentlemen of the mission in close proximity. The retinue of +servants and another detachment of men-at-arms completed the cortège.</p> + +<p>Some of the younger men followed the cavalcade on foot through the gate +and thence across the Base Court, even as far as the bridge and beyond. +The older ones, however, began to disperse. With a sigh, the Duke of +Wessex called to his dog, who had followed the exciting proceedings with +the keenest canine enthusiasm.</p> + +<p>"Ah, Harry, old friend!" he said with a tinge of sadness. "Why did not +Providence fashion my Grace into some humbler personality? You and I +would have been the happier, methinks."</p> + +<p>Harry Plantagenet yawned ostentatiously in acquiescence, then he +blinked, and seemed to say, as if in echo of his master's thoughts—</p> + +<p>"Marry! but there are compensations, you know!"</p> + +<p>"Only since this afternoon!" commented His Grace under his breath, as he +finally turned his steps in the direction of his own apartments.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_159" id="Page_159">[Pg 159]</a></span></p> + +<h2 class="newchapter"><a name="CHAPTER_XXI" id="CHAPTER_XXI"></a>CHAPTER XXI<br /> +<span class="smalltext">THE BLACK KNIGHT</span></h2> + + +<p>As the Duke of Wessex was crossing one of the large rooms of the wing +which divides the old Fountain Court from the Cloister Green, he +suddenly heard himself called by name.</p> + +<p>"Luck favours me indeed," said a voice from out the gloom. "His Grace of +Wessex an I mistake not."</p> + +<p>At this hour of the evening these rooms were usually deserted, and left +but dimly illumined by a few wax tapers placed in tall, many-armed +candelabra, the flickering light of which failed to penetrate into the +distant corners of the vast, panelled chambers. Wessex could only see +the dim outline of a man coming towards him.</p> + +<p>"At your service, fair sir, whoever you may be," he responded lightly, +"but by the Mass! meseems you must claim kinship with the feline species +to be able to distinguish my unworthy self in the dark."</p> + +<p>"Nay! 'twas my wish which fathered my thoughts. I had hoped to meet Your +Grace here, and was on the look out."</p> + +<p>"The Marquis de Suarez," rejoined Wessex, as the young Spaniard now came +within the circle of light projected by the candelabra. "You wished to +speak with me, sir?"</p> + +<p>"I would claim this privilege of Your Grace's courtesy."</p> + +<p>"Indeed, I am ever at your service," replied the Duke, not a little +astonished at the request.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_160" id="Page_160">[Pg 160]</a></span>Since his first meeting with Don Miguel at East Molesey Fair he had only +exchanged a very few words with the Spaniard, and the latter seemed even +to have purposely avoided him during the past few days. To this His +Grace had paid no attention. The foreign envoys at present staying in +the Palace were exceedingly antipathetic to him, and beyond the social +amenities of Court life he had held no intercourse with any of them.</p> + +<p>Rivals all of them, they nevertheless joined issue with one another in +their hostile attitude towards the man, who was the formidable +stumbling-block to all their diplomatic intrigues.</p> + +<p>The Duke himself, in spite of his haughty aloofness from party politics, +knew full well how great was the enmity which his personality aroused in +the minds of all the strangers at Mary's court.</p> + +<p>He was certainly much more amused than disturbed by this generally +hostile attitude towards himself, and many a time did the various +ambassadors have to suffer, with seeming good-nature, the pointed and +caustic shafts aimed at them by His Grace's ready wit.</p> + +<p>No wonder, therefore, that Wessex looked with some suspicion on this +sudden change of front on the part of one of his most avowed +antagonists.</p> + +<p>"How can I have the honour of serving an envoy of the King of Spain?" he +continued lightly.</p> + +<p>But Don Miguel appeared in no hurry to speak. His manner seemed to have +completely altered. As a rule he was a perfect model of self-possession +and easy confidence, with just a reflection of his distinguished +chief's, the Cardinal's, own suavity of manner apparent in all his ways. +Now he was obviously ill at ease, shy and nervous, and with a marked +desire to be frank, yet too bashful to give vent to so boyish an +outburst.</p> + +<p>There was in his dark eyes, too, a look almost of appeal<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_161" id="Page_161">[Pg 161]</a></span> towards the +Duke to meet his sudden access of friendliness half-way. All this Wessex +had already noticed with the one quick glance which he cast at the young +Spaniard. He motioned him to a chair and himself leant lightly against +the edge of the table.</p> + +<p>Don Miguel took this to be an encouragement to proceed.</p> + +<p>"Firstly, your Grace's pardon if I should unwillingly transgress," he +began.</p> + +<p>"My pardon?" rejoined the Duke, much amused at the Marquis' obvious +embarrassment. "'Tis yours already. But how transgress?"</p> + +<p>"By the asking of a question which Your Grace might deem indiscreet."</p> + +<p>"Nay, my lord," quoth the Duke gaily, "no question need be indiscreet, +though answers often are."</p> + +<p>"Your Grace is pleased to laugh . . . but in this case . . . I . . . +that is . . . I hardly know how to put it . . . yet I would assure Your +Grace . . ."</p> + +<p>"By Our Lady, man!" cried Wessex with a slight show of impatience, +"assure me no assurances, but tell me what you wish to say."</p> + +<p>"Well then! since I have Your Grace's leave. . . . My object is this. +. . . Court gossip has it that you are affianced to the Lady Ursula +Glynde."</p> + +<p>The Duke did not reply. Don Miguel looked up and saw a quaint smile +hovering round His Grace's lips. The young Spaniard, though an earnest +and even proficient reader of other men's thoughts, did not quite +understand the meaning of that smile: it seemed wistful yet triumphant, +full of gaiety and yet with a suspicion of that strange and delicious +melancholy, which is never quite inseparable from a great happiness.</p> + +<p>But as he seemingly was meeting with no rebuff, the Marquis continued +more boldly—</p> + +<p>"And . . . but Your Grace must really pardon me<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_162" id="Page_162">[Pg 162]</a></span>. . . . I hardly know +how to put it so as not to appear impertinent . . . but 'tis also said +that you do not wish to claim the lady's hand."</p> + +<p>"Marry! . . ." rejoined the Duke with a laugh. Then he paused, as if in +the act of recalling his somewhat roving thoughts, and said more +coldly—</p> + +<p>"You must pardon me, my lord, if I do not quite perceive in what manner +this may concern you."</p> + +<p>"I pray Your Grace to have patience with me yet a while longer. I will +explain my purpose directly. For the moment I will entreat you, an you +will, to answer my question. It is a matter of serious moment to me, and +you would render me eternally your debtor."</p> + +<p>None knew better in these days than did the high-born Spaniards, all the +many little tricks of voice and gesture which go to make up the abstruse +and difficult art of diplomacy. Don Miguel at this juncture looked so +frank, so boyish, and withal so earnest, that the Duke of +Wessex—himself the soul of truth and candour—never even suspected that +the young man was but playing a part and enacting a scene, which he had +rehearsed under the skilful management of His Eminence the Spanish +Cardinal.</p> + +<p>Wessex, ever ready to see the merry side of life, ever ready for gaiety +and brightness, felt completely disarmed, glad enough to lay aside the +cold reserve which the foreign envoys themselves had called forth in +him. He liked the Marquis under this new semblance of boyish +guilelessness, and returned his tone of deferential frankness with one +of easy familiarity.</p> + +<p>"The question, my lord, is somewhat difficult to answer," he said with +mock seriousness, the while a gay laugh was dancing in his eyes. "You +see, there are certain difficulties in the way. The Lady Ursula is a +Glynde . . . and all the Glyndes have brown eyes. . . . Now at this +moment I feel as if I could never love a brown eye again."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_163" id="Page_163">[Pg 163]</a></span>"The Lady Ursula is very beautiful," rejoined the Spaniard.</p> + +<p>"Possibly—but you surprise me."</p> + +<p>"Your Grace has never seen her?"</p> + +<p>"Never, since she was out of her cradle."</p> + +<p>"I have the advantage of Your Grace, then."</p> + +<p>"You know her, my lord? . . ."</p> + +<p>"Intimately!" said Don Miguel, with what seemed an irresistible impulse.</p> + +<p>Then he checked his enthusiasm with a visible effort, and stammered with +a return of his previous nervousness—</p> + +<p>"That is . . . I . . ."</p> + +<p>"Yes?" queried the Duke.</p> + +<p>"That is the purport of my importunity, my lord," said the young man, +springing to his feet and speaking once more in tones of noble candour. +"I would have asked Your Grace that, since you do not know the Lady +Ursula, since you have no wish to claim her hand, if some one else +. . ."</p> + +<p>"If the Lady Ursula honoured some one else than my unworthy self. . . . +Is that your meaning, my lord?" queried Wessex, as Don Miguel had made a +slight pause in his impetuous speech.</p> + +<p>"If I . . ."</p> + +<p>"You, my lord?"</p> + +<p>"I would wish to know if I should be offending Your Grace?"</p> + +<p>"Offending me?" cried Wessex joyfully. "Nay, my lord, why were you so +long in telling me this gladsome news? . . . Offending me? . . . you +have succeeded in taking a load from my conscience, my dear Marquis. So +you love the Lady Ursula Glynde? . . . Ye heavens! what a number of +circumlocutions to arrive at this simple little fact! You love her . . . +she is very beauti<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_164" id="Page_164">[Pg 164]</a></span>ful . . . and she loves you. Where did you first see +her, my lord?"</p> + +<p>"At East Molesey Fair. . . . Your Grace intervened . . . you must +remember!"</p> + +<p>"Most inopportunely, meseems. I must indeed crave your pardon. And since +then?"</p> + +<p>"The acquaintanceship, perhaps somewhat unpleasantly begun, has ripened +into . . . friendship."</p> + +<p>"And thence into love! Nay, you have my heartiest congratulations, my +lord. The Glyndes are famous for their virtue, and since the Lady Ursula +is beautiful, why! your Court will indeed be graced by such a pattern of +English womanhood."</p> + +<p>"Oh!" said the Spaniard, with a quick gesture of deprecation.</p> + +<p>"Nay! you must have no fear, my lord. Since you have honoured me by +consulting my feelings in the matter, it shall be my pride and my +delight to further your cause, and that of the Lady Ursula . . . if +indeed she will deign to express her wishes to me. . . . I hereby give +you a gentleman's word of honour that I consider the promise, which she +made to her father in her childhood, in no way binding upon her now. +. . . As for the future, I swear that I will obtain Her Majesty's +consent to your immediate marriage."</p> + +<p>"Nay! I pray you, not so fast!" laughed Don Miguel lightly. "Neither the +Lady Ursula nor I have need of Her Majesty's consent. . . ."</p> + +<p>"But methought——"</p> + +<p>"'Twas not I who spoke of marriage, remember!"</p> + +<p>"Then you have completely bewildered me, my lord," rejoined Wessex with +a sudden frown. "I understood——"</p> + +<p>"That I am the proudest of men, certainly," quoth Don Miguel with a +sarcastic curl of his sensual lip, "but 'twas Your Grace who spoke of +the lady's virtue. I merely<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_165" id="Page_165">[Pg 165]</a></span> wished to know if I should be offending +Your Grace if . . ."</p> + +<p>He laughed and shrugged his shoulders. The laugh grated unpleasantly on +Wessex' ear, and the gesture savoured of impertinence. The Marquis' +manner had suddenly undergone a change, which caused the Duke's every +nerve to tingle.</p> + +<p>"If what?" he queried curtly. "The devil! sir, cannot you say what you +do mean?"</p> + +<p>"Why should I," replied the Spaniard, "since your Grace has already +guessed? You will own that I have acted <i>en galant homme</i>, by thinking +of your wishes. You will not surely desire to champion that much-vaunted +virtue of the Glyndes."</p> + +<p>"Then what you mean, sir, is that . . ."</p> + +<p>"I cannot speak more plainly, my lord, for that among gentlemen is quite +impossible. But rumours fly about quickly at Court, and I feared that +Your Grace might have caught one, ere I had the chance of assuring you +that I recognize the priority of your claim. But now you tell me that +you have no further interest in the lady, so I am reassured. . . . We +foreigners, you know, take passing pleasures more lightly than you +serious-minded English . . . and if the lady be unattached . . . and +more than willing . . . why should we play the part of Joseph? . . . a +ridiculous rôle at best, eh, my lord? . . . and one, I think, which Your +Grace would ever disdain to play. . . . As for me, I am quite reassured +. . . Au revoir to Your Grace. . . ."</p> + +<p>And before Wessex had time to utter another word, Don Miguel, still +laughing, went out of the room.</p> + +<p>The Duke felt a little bewildered. The conversation had gone through +such a sudden transition, that at the time, he had hardly realized +whether it touched him deeply or not.</p> + +<p>Owing to Ursula's girlish little ruse, he was totally un<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_166" id="Page_166">[Pg 166]</a></span>aware of her +identity with the lady who had been the subject of this very distasteful +discussion. To him Lady Ursula Glynde was both unknown and +uninteresting. His meeting with beautiful, exquisite "Fanny" had driven +all thoughts of other women from his mind.</p> + +<p>But with all his volatile disposition, where women were concerned, the +Duke of Wessex was nevertheless imbued with a strong and romantic +feeling of chivalry towards the entire sex, and Don Miguel's disdainful +allusions to the lady who might have been Duchess of Wessex had left his +finger-tips itching with the desire to throw his glove in the impudent +rascal's face.</p> + +<p>Harry Plantagenet, who throughout the interview had openly expressed his +disapproval of his master's interlocutor, gave an impatient little +whine. He longed for the privacy of his own apartments, the warmth of +the rugs laid out specially for him.</p> + +<p>"Harry, old friend!" said Wessex thoughtfully, "what the devil, think +you, that young reprobate meant?"</p> + +<p>He took the dog's beautiful head between his hands and looked straight +into the honest, faithful eyes of his dear and constant companion.</p> + +<p>"Marry!" he continued more lightly, "you may well look doubtful, you +wise philosopher, for you know the Glyndes as well as I do. You remember +old Lady Annabel, whose very look would stop your tail from wagging, and +Charles, stodgy, silent, serious Charles, who never drank, never +laughed, had probably never seen a woman's ankle in his life. And then +the Lady Ursula . . . a Glynde . . . do you mind me, old Harry? . . . +therefore as ugly, as a combination of virtue and Scotch descent can +make any woman. . . . Yet, if I caught the rascal's meaning, neither +Scotch descent nor ill looks have proved a shield for the lady's virtue! +. . . Well, 'tis no business of ours, is it, old Harry? Let us live and +let<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_167" id="Page_167">[Pg 167]</a></span> live. . . . Perhaps Lady Ursula is not ugly . . . perchance that +unpleasant-looking Spaniard doth truly love her . . . and who are we, +Harry, you and I, that we should prove censorious? Let us to our +apartments, friend, and meditate on woman's frailty and on our own . . . +especially on our own . . . we are mere male creatures, and women are so +adorable! even when they bristle with virtues like a hedgehog . . . but +like him too, are cushioned beneath those bristles with a hundred +charming, fascinating sins. . . . Come along, friend, and let us +meditate why sin . . . sin of a certain type, remember, should be so +enchantingly tempting."</p> + +<p>Harry Plantagenet was a philosopher. He had seen his master in this kind +of mood before. He wagged his tail as if to express his approval of the +broad principles thus submitted for his consideration, but at the same +time he showed a distinct desire that his master should talk less and +come more speedily to bed.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_168" id="Page_168">[Pg 168]</a></span></p> + +<h2 class="newchapter"><a name="CHAPTER_XXII" id="CHAPTER_XXII"></a>CHAPTER XXII<br /> +<span class="smalltext">THE WHITE QUEEN</span></h2> + + +<p>Wessex after a while was ready enough to dismiss the unpleasant subject. +Perhaps he had no right to be censorious or to resent the Spaniard's +somewhat unusual attitude. In England, undoubtedly, a gentleman would +never—except under very special circumstances—allude to any passing +liaison he might have with a lady of his own rank. That was a strict +code of honour which had existed from time immemorial, even in the days +of King Harry's youth, when the virtue of high-born women had been but +little thought of.</p> + +<p>Abroad, perhaps, it was different. Spaniards, just then, were noted for +the light way in which they regarded the favours of the fair sex, and +Don Miguel's code of honour had evidently prompted him to consult +Wessex' wishes in the matter of his own intrigue. Loyalty to their own +sex is perhaps, on the whole, more general in men than is their chivalry +towards women, and perhaps the Marquis' feelings would have revolted at +the thought of seeing a lady of such light virtue in the position of +Duchess of Wessex.</p> + +<p>Be that as it may, His Grace had no wish to probe the matter further; +with a shrug of the shoulders he dismissed it from his thoughts, whilst +registering a vow to chastise the young blackguard if his impertinence +showed signs of recurrence.</p> + +<p>He was on the point of yielding to his faithful Harry's<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_169" id="Page_169">[Pg 169]</a></span> canine appeals +by allowing him to lead the way towards his own distant lodgings, when +his ear suddenly caught the sound of a silk dress rustling somewhere, +not far from where he stood.</p> + +<p>At the end of the room closest to him, a few steps led up to a gallery, +which ran along the wall, finally abutting at a door, which gave access +to the Duchess of Lincoln's and other ladies' lodgings. The rustle of a +silk skirt seemed to come from there.</p> + +<p>Perhaps Wessex would not have taken notice of it, except that his every +thought was filled with a strange excitement since the rencontre of the +afternoon. At times now he felt as if his very senses ached with the +longing to see once more that entrancing, girlish figure, dressed all in +white and crowned with the halo of her exquisite golden hair, to hear +once more the sound of that fresh young voice, that merry, childlike +laugh, through which there vibrated the thrill of a newly awakened +passion.</p> + +<p>Since he had met her he was conscious of a wonderful change in himself. +He did not even analyse his feelings: he knew that he loved her now: +that, in a sense, he had always loved her, for his poetic and romantic +temperament had ever been in search of that perfect type of womanhood, +which she seemed so completely to embody in herself.</p> + +<p>He had only spoken to her for about half an hour, then had sat opposite +to her in a boat among the reeds, in the cool of the afternoon, with the +lazy river gently rocking the light skiff, and the water birds for sole +witnesses of his happiness. They had hardly exchanged a word then, for +he had enjoyed the delight—dear to every man who loves—of watching the +blushes come and go upon her cheek in response to his ardent gaze. What +did words matter? the music in their souls supplied all that they wished +to say.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_170" id="Page_170">[Pg 170]</a></span>And he—who had been deemed so fickle, who had made of love a pastime, +taking what joys women would give him with a grateful yet transient +smile, His Grace of Wessex, in fact, who had loved so often yet so +inconstantly—knew now that the stern little god, who will not for long +brook defiance of his laws, had wounded him for life or death at last.</p> + +<p>And even now, when he heard the rustle of a kirtle, he paused +instinctively, vaguely, madly hoping that chance, and the great wild +longing which was in him, had indeed drawn her footsteps hither.</p> + +<p>The door above, at the end of the gallery, was tentatively opened. +Wessex could see nothing, for those distant corners of the room were in +complete darkness, but he heard a voice, low and sweet, humming the +little ditty which she, his queen, had sung this afternoon.</p> + +<div class="ital poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0q">"Disdaine me not that am your own,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Refuse me not that am so true,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Mistrust me not till all be knowen,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Forsake me not now for no new."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>She walked slowly along the gallery, and paused not far from the top of +the short flight of oak steps. She seemed to be hesitating a little, as +if afraid to venture farther into the large, dimly lighted hall.</p> + +<p>The flicker of the tall wax tapers now caught her dainty figure, casting +golden lights and deep, ruddy shadows on her fair young face and on the +whiteness of her gown. In her arms she held an enormous sheaf of pale +pink monthly roses, the spoils of the garden, lavish in its autumnal +glory.</p> + +<p>Never had Wessex—fastidious, fickle, insouciant Wessex—seen anything +more radiant, more exquisite, more poetic than this apparition which +came towards him like the realization of all his maddest dreams.</p> + +<p>For one moment more he lingered, his ardent, passionate<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_171" id="Page_171">[Pg 171]</a></span> soul was loath +to give up these heaven-born seconds spent in looking at her. Her eyes +shone darkly in the gleam of the candle light and had wondrous +reflections in them, which looked ruddy and hot; her delicately +chiselled features were suffused with a strange glow, which seemed to +come from within; and her lips were slightly parted, moist and red like +some ripe summer fruit. From her whole person there came an exhalation +of youth and womanhood, of purity and soul-stirring passion.</p> + +<p>"Come down, sweet singer," said Wessex to her at last.</p> + +<p>She gave a startled little cry, leant over the balustrade, and the sheaf +of flowers dropped from her arms, falling in a long cascade of leaves +and blossoms, rose-coloured and sweet-scented, at his feet.</p> + +<p>"Ah, Your Grace frightened me!" she whispered, with just a touch of +feminine coquetry. "I . . . I . . . didn't know you were here."</p> + +<p>"I swear you did not, sweet saint . . . but now . . . as I am here . . . +come down quickly ere I perish with longing for a nearer sight of your +dear eyes."</p> + +<p>"But my flowers," she said, with a sudden access of timidity, brought +forth by the thrilling ardour of his voice. "I had picked them for Her +Majesty's oratory."</p> + +<p>"Nay! let them all wither save one . . . which I will take from your +hand. Come down. . . ."</p> + +<p>One of the roses had remained fixed in the stiff fold of her panier. She +took it between her fingers and sighed.</p> + +<p>"Oh! I dare not," she said sadly. "Your Grace does not know,—cannot +guess, what dire disgrace would befall me if I did."</p> + +<p>"Perish the thought of disgrace," rejoined Wessex gaily. "Marry! the +saints in Paradise must come down from heaven sometimes, else the world +would be consumed by its own wickedness. Come down," he added more +earnestly, seized with a mad, ungovernable desire to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_172" id="Page_172">[Pg 172]</a></span> clasp her to his +heart, "come down, or I swear that I'll bring you down in my arms."</p> + +<p>"No . . . no . . . no!" she protested, alarmed at his vehemence. "I'll +come down."</p> + +<p>With a quaintly mischievous gesture she flung the rose at him; it hit +him in the face, then fell; he had perforce to stoop in order to pick it +up. When he once more straightened his tall figure she was standing +quite close to him.</p> + +<p>There she was, just as he had always thought of her, even as a boy when +first he began to dream. She, the perfect woman whom one day he would +meet, and on that day would love wholly, passionately, humbly, and +proudly, his own and yet his queen; she the most perfect product of +Nature, with just that tone of gold in her hair, just those eyes, so +inscrutable, so full of colour, so infinite in their variety; not very +tall, but graceful and slender, with her dainty head on a level with his +shoulder, her fair young forehead on a level with his lips.</p> + +<p>Now that she was so near, he was as if turned to stone. The wild longing +was still in him to clasp her in his arms, to hold her closely, tenderly +to his heart, yet he would not have touched her for a kingdom.</p> + +<p>But as he looked at her he knew that she, herself, would come to him in +all her purity, her innocence . . . soon . . . to-day perhaps . . . but +certainly one day . . . and that she would come with every fibre in her +entire being vibrating in responsive passion to him.</p> + +<p>She looked up at him shyly, tentatively. His very soul went out to her +as he returned her gaze. A great and glorious exultation thrilled every +fibre of her being. She knew that she had conquered, that the love which +in her girlish heart she had kept for him had borne fruit a +thousandfold. Her heart seemed to stop beating at the immensity of her +happiness.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_173" id="Page_173">[Pg 173]</a></span>But woman-like, she was more self-possessed than he was.</p> + +<p>"I must not stay," she said gravely and with only an imperceptible +quiver in her voice. "I am in disgrace, you know . . . for that stroll +on the river . . . with you . . . this afternoon."</p> + +<p>"Why? what happened?" he asked with a smile.</p> + +<p>She held up her little hand and counted on her fingers.</p> + +<p>"Number one, a frown and a colder shoulder from Her Majesty! Two, a +lecture from Her Grace of Lincoln! Twenty minutes! Three, four, and +five, pin-pricks from the ladies and a lonely supper in my room +to-night."</p> + +<p>He loved her in this gayer mood which made her seem so young and +childlike.</p> + +<p>"Could you not have contrived to let me know?"</p> + +<p>"Why? . . . What would you have done?"</p> + +<p>"Made it less lonely for you."</p> + +<p>"You are doing that now. I thought I should be alone the rest of the +evening. Her Grace of Lincoln and the others are at prayers with Her +Majesty. I was confined to that room up there. How is it Your Grace +happened to be in this hall just when I came out?"</p> + +<p>"A moth is always to be found where the light happens to be," he replied +gravely.</p> + +<p>"But how did you know I should be here?"</p> + +<p>"My eyes, since this afternoon, see you constantly where you are +not—how could they fail to see you where you are?"</p> + +<p>"Then, as Your Grace has seen me . . ." she added with timid +nervousness, seeing that he now stood between her and the steps, "will +you allow me to go up again?"</p> + +<p>"No."</p> + +<p>"I entreat!" she pleaded.</p> + +<p>"Impossible."</p> + +<p>"Her Grace of Lincoln will be looking for me."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_174" id="Page_174">[Pg 174]</a></span>"Then stay here with me until she does."</p> + +<p>"What to do?" she queried innocently.</p> + +<p>"To make me happy."</p> + +<p>"Happy?" she laughed merrily. "Ho! ho! ho! How can I, a humble +waiting-maid, manage to make His Grace of Wessex happy?"</p> + +<p>"By letting me look at you."</p> + +<p>With quaint and artless coquetry she picked up the folds of her heavy +brocaded paniers, right and left, with two delicate fingers, and +executed a dainty pirouette in front of him.</p> + +<p>"There!" she said merrily, "'tis done. . . . And now?"</p> + +<p>"By letting me whisper to you . . ." he murmured.</p> + +<p>She drew back quickly, and said with mock severity—</p> + +<p>"That which I must not hear."</p> + +<p>"Why not?"</p> + +<p>"Because Your Grace is not free," she rejoined archly. "Not free to +whisper anything in any woman's ear, save in that of Lady Ursula +Glynde."</p> + +<p>"Then you guessed what I would have whispered to you?"</p> + +<p>"Perhaps."</p> + +<p>"What was it?"</p> + +<p>She veiled the glory of her eyes with their fringe of dark lashes.</p> + +<p>"That you loved me . . ." she murmured, "for the moment. . . ."</p> + +<p>How irresistible she was, with just that soupçon of coquetry to whet the +desire of this fastidious man of the world, and with it all so free from +artifice, so young and fresh and pure:—a madonna, yet made to tempt +mankind.</p> + +<p>"Nay! if you would let me, sweet saint, I would whisper in your tiny ear +that I worship you!" he said<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_175" id="Page_175">[Pg 175]</a></span> in all sincerity and truth, and with the +ring of an ardent passion in every tone of his voice.</p> + +<p>"Worship me? . . ." she queried in mock astonishment, "and Your Grace +does not even know who I am."</p> + +<p>"Faith! but I do. You are the most beautiful woman on this earth."</p> + +<p>"Oh! . . . but my name! . . ."</p> + +<p>"Nay! as to that I care not . . . You shall tell it me anon, if you +like. . . . For the moment I love to think of you as I first beheld you +in the garden this afternoon—a fairy or sprite . . . I know not which +. . . an angel mayhap . . . in your robes of white, surrounded with +flowers and dark bosquets of hazelnut and of yew, with golden tints of +ruddy autumn around you, less glorious than your hair. Let me worship +blindly . . . fettered . . . your slave."</p> + +<p>She sighed, a quaint little sigh, which had a tinge of melancholy in it.</p> + +<p>"For how long?" she murmured.</p> + +<p>"For my whole life," he replied earnestly. "Will you not try me?"</p> + +<p>"How?"</p> + +<p>"You love me, sweet saint?"</p> + +<p>"I . . ." she began shyly.</p> + +<p>"Let me look into your eyes. . . . I will find my answer."</p> + +<p>Her arms dropped by her side, she looked up and met his eyes, ardent, +burning with passion, fixed longingly upon her. He came close to her, +quite close, his presence thrilled her; she closed her eyes in order to +shut out from her innermost soul everything from the outside world, save +the exquisite feeling of her newly awakened love.</p> + +<p>"Now, see how perverse I am," he whispered passionately. "I do not want +you to tell me anything just now . . . open your eyes, dear saint . . . +for I but want to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_176" id="Page_176">[Pg 176]</a></span> stand like this . . . and read in their blue depths +. . . enjoying every fraction of a second of this heavenly moment. +. . ."</p> + +<p>She tried to speak, but instinctively he stopped her.</p> + +<p>"No . . . no . . . do not speak. . . . And yet . . . 'tis from your +sweet lips I'd have my final answer."</p> + +<p>He took her in his arms. She lay against him, unresisting, her sweet +face turned up to his, soul meeting soul at last in the ecstasy of a +first kiss. He held her to his heart. It seemed as if he could never let +her go from him again. Everything was forgotten, the world had ceased to +be. For him there was but one woman on this earth, and she was his own.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_177" id="Page_177">[Pg 177]</a></span></p> + +<h2 class="newchapter"><a name="CHAPTER_XXIII" id="CHAPTER_XXIII"></a>CHAPTER XXIII<br /> +<span class="smalltext">CHECK TO THE QUEEN</span></h2> + + +<p>How long they stood thus, heart to heart, they themselves could never +have said. The sound of many voices in the near distance roused them +from their dream. Ursula started in alarm.</p> + +<p>"Holy Virgin!" she exclaimed under her breath, "if it should be the +Queen!"</p> + +<p>But Wessex held her tightly, and she struggled in vain.</p> + +<p>"Nay! then let the whole Court see that I hold my future wife in my +arms," he said proudly.</p> + +<p>But with an agitated little cry she contrived to escape him. He seemed +much amused at her nervousness; what had she to fear? was she not his +own, to protect even from the semblance of ill? But Ursula, now fully +awakened to ordinary, everyday surroundings, was fearful lest her own +innocent little deception should be too crudely, too suddenly unmasked.</p> + +<p>She had so earnestly looked forward to the moment when she would say to +him that she in sooth was none other than Lady Ursula Glynde, the woman +whom every conventionality had decreed that he should marry, and +whom—because of these conventionalities—he had secretly but certainly +disliked.</p> + +<p>Her woman's heart had already given her a clear insight into the +character and the foibles of the man she loved. His passion for her now, +sincere and great though it was, was partly dependent on that atmosphere +of romance<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_178" id="Page_178">[Pg 178]</a></span> which his poetical temperament craved for, and which had +surrounded the half-mysterious personality of exquisite, irresistible +"Fanny."</p> + +<p>Instinctively she dreaded the rough hand of commonplace, that ugly, +coarse destroyer of poetic idylls. A few hastily uttered words might +shatter in an hour the mystic shrine wherein Wessex had enthroned her. +She had meant to tell him soon, to-morrow perhaps, perhaps only after a +few days, but she wished to find her own time for this, when he knew her +inner soul better, and the delicate cobwebs of this great +love-at-first-sight had fallen away from his eyes.</p> + +<p>She could not altogether have explained to herself why a sudden +disclosure of her identity at this moment would have been peculiarly +unpleasant to her. It was a weak, childish feeling no doubt. But such as +it was, it was real, and strong, and genuine.</p> + +<p>Barely a minute had elapsed whilst these quick thoughts and fears went +wildly coursing through her mind. There was no time to tell him +everything now. The voices came from the next room, within the next few +seconds probably the great door would be open to admit a group of +people: the Duchess of Lincoln and the ladies mayhap, or the Queen on +her way to chapel. And His Grace of Wessex looked terribly determined.</p> + +<p>"No! no! no!—not just this moment, sweet Grace," she entreated, "by +your love! not <i>just</i> this moment. . . . The Queen would be so angry +. . . oh! not <i>just</i> now!"</p> + +<p>She looked so genuinely disturbed, and so tenderly appealing, that he +could not help but obey.</p> + +<p>"But you cannot send me away like this," he urged. "Another word, sweet +saint. . . . Faith! I could not live without another kiss. . . ."</p> + +<p>"No, no, no, I entreat Your Grace . . . not to-night," she protested +feebly.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_179" id="Page_179">[Pg 179]</a></span>He thought, however, that he detected a sign of yielding in her voice, +although she was already beginning to mount the steps ready for flight.</p> + +<p>"Just one tiny word," he whispered hurriedly: "when the Queen has passed +through, linger up there for one brief minute only. I'll wait in there!"</p> + +<p>And he pointed to a small door close behind him, which led to an inner +closet at right angles with the gallery. Before she had time to +protest—nay! perhaps she had no wish to refuse—he had disappeared +behind its heavy panels, quickly calling to his dog to follow him. But +in that one moment's hesitation, those few brief and delicious words +hastily exchanged, she had lost her opportunity for escape.</p> + +<p>The next instant the door at the further end of the room was thrown +open, and the Queen entered followed by some of her ladies. She was +accompanied by the Duchess of Lincoln, and His Eminence the Cardinal de +Moreno was on her left.</p> + +<p>As chance or ill-luck would have it, the first sight which greeted Her +Majesty's eyes was the figure of Lady Ursula, midway up the steps which +led to the gallery, some mysterious imp of mischief having contrived +that the light from the wax tapers should unaccountably and very vividly +fall upon the white-clad form of the young girl. An exclamation of stern +reproval from Her Grace of Lincoln brought Ursula to a standstill.</p> + +<p>Flight now was no longer possible; she could but trust in her guardian +angel, or in any of those protective genii who have in their keeping the +special care of lovers in distress, and who happened to be hovering +nigh.</p> + +<p>It was not seemly to be half-way up a flight of stairs when Her Majesty +was standing on the floor below. Ursula, with her cheeks aflame with +vexation, slowly descended, whilst encountering as boldly as she could +the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_180" id="Page_180">[Pg 180]</a></span> artillery fire of half a dozen pairs of eyes fixed steadily upon +her.</p> + +<p>Mary Tudor looked coldly severe, Her Grace of Lincoln horror-struck, His +Eminence ironical, and the ladies vastly amused.</p> + +<p>"Ah, child!" said Her Majesty, in her iciest tone of voice, "all alone, +and in this part of the Palace?"</p> + +<p>She looked the dainty young figure disdainfully up and down, then her +eye caught the sheaf of roses lying in a fragrant tangle close to the +foot of the stairs. There was a quick flash of anger in her face, then a +frown. Ursula wondered how much she guessed or what she suspected.</p> + +<p>But the Queen, after that one quick wave of passionate wrath, made an +obvious effort to control herself. She turned composedly to the Duchess +of Lincoln.</p> + +<p>"Your Grace is aware," she said drily, "that I deem it most indecorous +for my maids-of-honour to wander about the Palace alone."</p> + +<p>The wrinkled old face of the kindly Duchess expressed the most heartfelt +sorrow.</p> + +<p>"I crave Your Majesty's humble pardon . . ." she stammered in an agony +of misery at this public reproof. "I . . ."</p> + +<p>"Nay, Duchess, I know the difficulty of your task," rejoined Mary Tudor +bitingly, "the other ladies are docile, and their behaviour is maidenly +and chaste. 'Tis not always so with the Lady Ursula Glynde."</p> + +<p>Mary's voice had been so trenchant and hard that it seemed to Ursula's +sensitive ears as if its metallic tones must have penetrated to every +corner of the Palace. She gave a quick, terrified look towards the door, +longing with all her might for the gift to see through its massive +panels—to know what went on within that inner closet, where Wessex was +waiting and must have heard.</p> + +<p>One pair of eyes, however, had caught that swift<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_181" id="Page_181">[Pg 181]</a></span> glance, and noted the +sudden obvious fright which accompanied it. His Eminence had not taken +his piercing eyes from off the young girl's face; he had seen every +movement of the delicate nostril, every quiver of the eyelid.</p> + +<p>What Mary Tudor only half suspected, what the good old Duchess could not +even conjecture, that His Eminence had already more than guessed.</p> + +<p>The delicate, rosy blush which suffused the young girl's cheeks, that +indescribable something which emanated from her entire personality, the +half-withered roses, all told their tale to this experienced +diplomatist, accustomed to read his fellow-creatures' thoughts. Then +that quick, apprehensive look towards the door had confirmed his every +surmise.</p> + +<p>"She has seen His Grace. . . . He is closeted in there!" were his +immediate mental deductions. And whilst Ursula met Her Majesty's cold +glances with as much boldness as she could command, and Her Grace of +Lincoln lost herself in a maze of abject apologies, His Eminence, +seemingly unconcerned, edged up to the low door, keeping the lock and +handle thereof well in view.</p> + +<p>"I crave Your Majesty's indulgence for the child," the Duchess of +Lincoln was muttering. "She meant no harm, I'll take my oath on that, +and she will, I know, return at once to her room, there to grieve over +Your Majesty's disapproval of her. She——"</p> + +<p>"Nay, Duchess," interrupted the Queen sternly, "repentance is far from +Lady Ursula's thoughts, and her behaviour is not the thoughtlessness of +a moment."</p> + +<p>"Your Majesty . . ." protested the Duchess, whilst Ursula threw her head +back in token of proud denial.</p> + +<p>"The rumour has already reached us," continued Mary, "of a +maid-of-honour's strange wanderings at night and in disguise outside the +purlieus of the Palace, and that<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_182" id="Page_182">[Pg 182]</a></span> the maiden who so far forgot her rank +and her modesty was none other than the Lady Ursula Glynde."</p> + +<p>Again that quick apprehensive glance directed towards the closet door at +mention of her name, a glance unseen by any one present save by His +Eminence's watchful eyes. To him it had revealed all that he wished to +know, whilst the Queen, blinded by her own jealousy, saw nothing but a +rival whom she desired to humiliate.</p> + +<p>"Wessex is behind that door . . ." mused His Eminence. "She starts every +time her name is uttered . . . ergo, he made love to her without knowing +who she is."</p> + +<p>It was natural and simple. The very logical sequence of a series of +co-ordinated thoughts, together with a shrewd knowledge of human nature.</p> + +<p>How this little incident would affect his own immediate plans His +Eminence had not yet conjectured. That it would prove of vast +importance, he was never for a moment in doubt. Therefore, at a moment +when every one's eyes were fixed upon the Queen or Ursula, he quietly +turned the key in the lock of that closet door, and slipped the key in +his own pocket.</p> + +<p>After that he rejoined the group of ladies, feeling that he could wait +in peace until the close of the dramatic little episode.</p> + +<p>"The rumour, if rumour there was," Ursula had retorted defiantly, "is a +false one, Your Majesty."</p> + +<p>"Indeed, child," said the Queen coldly, "did you not, then, some days +ago leave the Palace with no other companion save weak-willed Margaret +Cobham?"</p> + +<p>"Verily, I . . ."</p> + +<p>"In order to visit, in disguise, or masked, or cloaked—we know +not—some public entertainment, a country fair, methinks?"</p> + +<p>"Of a truth, but . . ."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_183" id="Page_183">[Pg 183]</a></span>"You do not deny that, meseems."</p> + +<p>"I do not deny it, Your Majesty. I meant no harm."</p> + +<p>"No harm! hark at the girl! Was there no harm then in your meeting +certain gentlemen of our Court, under circumstances not altogether +creditable to the fair fame of our English maidens?"</p> + +<p>"Has the Marquis de Suarez dared. . . ."</p> + +<p>"Nay! We did not name the Marquis, girl. Of a truth a gentleman will +dare all, once a maid forgets her own dignity. But enough of this. I +spoke a word of warning in your own interests. The Marquis—saving His +Eminence's presence—has all the faults of his race. We warn you to +cease this intercourse, which doth no credit to your modesty."</p> + +<p>"Your Majesty . . ." retorted Ursula, proud and rebellious at this +slight put upon her, and forgetting for the moment even the invisible +presence of the man she loved.</p> + +<p>But Mary Tudor, though at times capable of noble and just impulses, was +far too blinded by her own passion to give up the joy of this victory +over the girl who had become her rival. At any rate, Fate had done one +great thing for her: she was the Queen, ruling as every Tudor had ruled, +by divine right, absolutely, unquestionably.</p> + +<p>She would not let the girl speak, she would see her go, humiliated, with +head bent, forcibly swallowing her tears of shame. Mary only regretted +this: that Wessex could not be witness of this scene.</p> + +<p>She threw back her head, drew herself up to her full height, and pointed +peremptorily up towards the gallery.</p> + +<p>"Silence, wench!" she commanded. "Go!"</p> + +<p>And Ursula could not help but obey.</p> + +<p>Slowly she mounted the stairs, her heart burning with defiance. To have +angered Mary Tudor further by renewed rebellion would have been worse +than madness; it<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_184" id="Page_184">[Pg 184]</a></span> would inevitably have brought more ignominy and worse +perchance upon herself.</p> + +<p>But the tears, which she tried in vain to suppress, were not caused by +the Queen's harsh words, but by the terrible doubts which assailed her +when she thought of Wessex.</p> + +<p>Had he heard?</p> + +<p>What would he think?</p> + +<p>Would he understand the cause of her innocent deception, or would he +believe—as indeed he must if he heard them—the evil insinuations so +basely put forward by the Queen.</p> + +<p>As she found her way along the gallery she heard Mary's voice once more.</p> + +<p>"Duchess, I pray you see that in future more strict surveillance is kept +over the young maids under your charge. Lady Ursula's conduct has put me +verily to shame before the ambassadors of foreign Courts."</p> + +<p>With a sob of impotent revolt Ursula disappeared within the upper room.</p> + +<p>The Cardinal watched her until the door closed upon her and he was quite +sure that she was well out of hearing. Then he approached the Queen and +said in his most suave manner—</p> + +<p>"Nay! Your Majesty, methinks, takes this trifling matter too much <i>au +sérieux</i>. You deigned to mention the Marquis de Suarez just now. Believe +me, he is far too proud of the favours bestowed upon him by Lady Ursula +to look on England with any reproach."</p> + +<p>The Duchess of Lincoln would have spoken, if she dared. Her loyal old +soul rebelled against this insinuation, which she knew to be utterly +false. But to tax His Eminence with the uttering of unfounded gossip and +in the presence of the Queen of England—that task was quite beyond the +worthy Duchess's powers.</p> + +<p>But in her motherly heart she registered the resolution<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_185" id="Page_185">[Pg 185]</a></span> to take +Ursula's part as hotly as she dared whenever Her Majesty would give her +leave to speak, and in any case she would not allow the Cardinal's +imputation to rest long upon the innocent young girl.</p> + +<p>The Queen, on the other hand, had visibly brightened up when His +Eminence himself mentioned the name of the young Spaniard in such close +connection with that of Ursula. She seemed to drink in with delight the +poisoned cup of thinly veiled slander which His Eminence held so +temptingly before her.</p> + +<p>She wanted to think of Ursula as base and wanton and had, until now, +never quite dared to believe the many strange rumours which certainly +had reached her ears.</p> + +<p>With all her faults, Mary was a just woman and above all a proud one; +she would never have allowed her rival to suffer long and seriously +under a false calumny. The name of the Marquis de Suarez, when she +uttered it, had been but a shaft hurled at random.</p> + +<p>But since His Eminence so palpably hinted a confirmation of her hopes, +she was more than ready to give his insinuations the fullest credence. +So pleased was she that she gave him quite a pleasant smile, the first +he had had from her since the afternoon.</p> + +<p>"As Your Eminence justly remarks," she said graciously, "the matter is +perhaps not of grave moment. But our interest in the young maidens who +form our Court is a genuine one nevertheless. I pray you let it +pass—Duchess, we'll speak of it all on the morrow. My lord Cardinal, we +will wish you good night."</p> + +<p>She was about to finally pass him and to leave the room when her +curiosity got the better of her usual dignified reserve.</p> + +<p>"Is it the last night Your Eminence will spend at our Court?" she asked +pointedly.</p> + +<p>"I think not, Your Majesty," replied the Cardinal<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_186" id="Page_186">[Pg 186]</a></span> blandly. "'Tis many +days yet which I shall hope to spend in Your Majesty's company."</p> + +<p>"Yet the skein is still entangled, my lord."</p> + +<p>"'Twill be unravelled, Your Majesty."</p> + +<p>"When?"</p> + +<p>"<i>Quien sabe?</i>" he replied. "Perhaps to-night."</p> + +<p>"To-night?"</p> + +<p>She had allowed herself to be led away by the eagerness of her desire to +know what was happening. Shrewd enough where her own wishes and plans +were concerned, she could not help but notice the air of contentment, +even of triumph, which the Cardinal had worn throughout the evening. He +certainly did not look like a man about to be sent back discomfited, to +an irate master, there to explain that he had failed in the task +allotted to him.</p> + +<p>Mary's curiosity was very much on the alert, but His Eminence's +monosyllabic answers were not intended to satisfy her, and perforce she +had to desist from further questioning him. Obviously he did not mean to +tell her anything just yet. She bade him good night with more +graciousness than he could have anticipated, and his bow to her was full +of the most profound respect.</p> + +<p>A moment later she had passed out of the room, followed by Her Grace of +Lincoln and her maids-of-honour.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_187" id="Page_187">[Pg 187]</a></span></p> + +<h2 class="newchapter"><a name="CHAPTER_XXIV" id="CHAPTER_XXIV"></a>CHAPTER XXIV<br /> +<span class="smalltext">CHECK TO THE KING</span></h2> + + +<p>The colloquy between Mary Tudor and Ursula Glynde had probably not +lasted more than a few minutes.</p> + +<p>To Wessex it seemed as if years had elapsed since he had closed the door +of the small inner room behind him, shutting out from his sight the +beautiful vision which had filled his soul with gladness.</p> + +<p>Years! during which he had learnt chapter by chapter, the history of +woman's frailty and deceit. Now, he suddenly felt old, all the buoyancy +had gone out of his life, and he was left worn and weary, with a +millstone of shattered illusions hung around his neck.</p> + +<p>It had come about so strangely.</p> + +<p>She was not exquisite "Fanny," mysterious, elusive, after all. She was +Lady Ursula Glynde.</p> + +<p>Well! what mattered that?</p> + +<p>The name first pronounced by the Queen's trenchant voice had grated +harshly on his ear. Why?</p> + +<p>At first he could not remember.</p> + +<p>Fanny or Ursula? Why not? The woman whom conventionality had in some +sense ordained that he should marry. Why not?</p> + +<p>Surely 'twas for him to thank conventionality for this kind decree.</p> + +<p>But the Lady Ursula Glynde!</p> + +<p>When did he last hear that name? Surely it was on that Spaniard's lips +half an hour ago, accompanied by a thinly veiled, coarse jest and an +impudent laugh.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_188" id="Page_188">[Pg 188]</a></span>But his "Fanny!"—that white-clad, poetic embodiment of his most exalted +dreams! Those guileless blue eyes—or were they black?—that childlike +little head so fitly crowned with gold!</p> + +<p>No! no! <i>that</i> was his "Fanny," not the other woman, whom the Queen was +even now upbraiding for immodest conduct.</p> + +<p>Now she was speaking . . . stammering . . . denying nothing. . . . Where +was that Ursula Glynde? . . . the other woman . . . she who was false +and wanton. . . . "Fanny" was pure and sweet and girlish. . . . Ursula +alone was to blame. Where was she?</p> + +<p>"Has the Marquis de Suarez dared . . ."</p> + +<p>It was her voice. Why did she name that man?</p> + +<p>She knew him then? . . . had met him at East Molesey Fair? . . . she did +not deny it . . . she only asked if he had dared . . . whilst the +Spaniard had said, with a flippant shrug of the shoulders, that the +acquaintanceship had ripened into . . . friendship.</p> + +<p>Wessex' whole soul rebelled at this suggestion. He had but one desire, +to see her, to ask her—she would tell him the truth, and he would +believe whatever she told him with those dear red lips of hers, which he +had kissed.</p> + +<p>He felt quite calm, still, firm in his faith, and sustained by his great +love. He went to the door and found it locked.</p> + +<p>A trifling matter surely, but why was it locked?</p> + +<p>She had been upset, confused, ere the Queen had come. She would not +allow him the great joy of proclaiming to all who were there to hear, +that he had wooed and won her. Once more there came that torturing +question: Why?</p> + +<p>So averse was she to his appearing before the Queen, that she had locked +the door for fear that the exuberant happiness which was in him, should +cause him to precipitate a climax which she obviously dreaded.</p> + +<p>Why? Why? Why?</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_189" id="Page_189">[Pg 189]</a></span>But he would respect her wishes, and though his very sinews ached with +the longing to break down that door, to see her then and there, not to +endure for another second this maddening agony which made his temples +throb and his brain reel, he made no attempt to touch the bolts again.</p> + +<p>Just then there came the Queen's final words to her:</p> + +<p>"The Marquis de Suarez has all the faults of his race. We warn you to +cease this intercourse which doth no credit to your modesty."</p> + +<p>And she—his love, his cherished dream—had said nothing in reply. +Wessex strained his every sense to hear, but there came nothing save—</p> + +<p>"Your Majesty . . ."</p> + +<p>And then the peremptory—</p> + +<p>"Silence, wench!" from irate Mary Tudor.</p> + +<p>And then nothing more.</p> + +<p>She had gone evidently, bearing her humiliation, leaving him in doubt +and fear, to endure a torture of the soul which well-nigh unmanned him.</p> + +<p>She must have known that he had heard, and yet she said nothing.</p> + +<p>To the Duke of Wessex, the most favoured man in England, the grand +seigneur with one foot on the throne, the idea of suffering a false +accusation in silence was a thing absolutely beyond +comprehension—weakness which must have its origin in guilt.</p> + +<p>Human nature is so constituted that man is bound to measure his +fellow-creatures by his own standard; else why doth charity think no +evil? The goodness and purity which comes from the soul is always +mirrored in the soul of others. Evil sees evil everywhere. Pride does +not understand humility.</p> + +<p>Thus in Wessex' heart!</p> + +<p>Had his sovereign liege—that sovereign being a man—dared to put forth +a base insinuation against him, he would<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_190" id="Page_190">[Pg 190]</a></span> have forgotten the kingship +and struck the man, who impeached his honour, fearlessly in the face. +Nothing but conscious guilt would have stayed his avenging hand, or +silenced the indignant words on his lips.</p> + +<p>Of course he could not see what was actually passing: he could but +surmise, and a fevered, tortured brain is an uncertain counsellor.</p> + +<p>He could not understand Ursula's attitude. The girlish weakness, the +submission to the highest authority in the land born of centuries of +tradition, the maidenly bashfulness at the monstrosity of the +accusation, were so many little feminine traits which at this moment +appeared to him as so many admissions of guilt.</p> + +<p>He would have loved them at other times: loved them in <i>her</i> especially, +because they were so characteristic of her simple nature, bred in the +country, half woman and wholly child. Just now they were repellent to +his pride, incomprehensible to his manhood, and for the first time his +faith began to waver.</p> + +<p>Pity him, my masters! for he suffered intensely.</p> + +<p>Pity him, mistress, for he loved her with his whole soul.</p> + +<p>Nay! do not sneer. Love-at-first-sight is a great and wonderful thing, +and, more than that, it is real—genuinely, absolutely, completely real. +But it is not immutable. It is the basis, the solid foundation of what +will become the lasting passion. In itself it has one great +weakness—the absence of knowledge.</p> + +<p>Wessex loved with his soul, but not yet with his reason. How could he? +Reason is always the last to fall into line with the other slaves of +passion. At present he worshipped in her that which he had conceived her +to be, and the very sublimity of this whole-hearted love was a bar to +the existence of perfect trust and faith.</p> + +<p>There had been a long silence whilst Ursula mounted the stairs and +finally disappeared, but the rustle of her silk<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_191" id="Page_191">[Pg 191]</a></span> skirt did not penetrate +through the solid panels of the closet door. Wessex did not know whether +she had gone, or had been ordered to wait until Her Majesty had quitted +the room. He wondered now how soon he would meet her, how she would look +when she finally released him from this torture-chamber. He knew that he +would not upbraid her, and feared but one awful eventuality, his own +weakness if she were guilty.</p> + +<p>Love such as his oft makes cowards of men.</p> + +<p>To the Cardinal's poisoned shaft he paid but little heed. The weary soul +had come to the end of its tether. It could not suffer more.</p> + +<p>Beyond that lay madness or crime.</p> + +<p>Silence became oppressive.</p> + +<p>Then it seemed as if the key was being gently turned in the lock.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_192" id="Page_192">[Pg 192]</a></span></p> + +<h2 class="newchapter"><a name="CHAPTER_XXV" id="CHAPTER_XXV"></a>CHAPTER XXV<br /> +<span class="smalltext">THE CARDINAL'S MOVE</span></h2> + + +<p>His Eminence had been left all alone in the room after the passage of +Her Majesty to her own apartments.</p> + +<p>"And now, what is the next move in this game of chess?" he mused, as he +took the key of the closet door from his pocket and thoughtfully +contemplated this tiny engine of his far-reaching and elaborate schemes.</p> + +<p>"For the moment my guess was a shrewd one. His Grace of Wessex is in +there, and had I not locked that door he would have precipitated a +climax, which had sent Queen Mary into a fever of jealous rage, and the +Spanish ambassador and myself back to Spain to-morrow."</p> + +<p>He listened intently for a second or so; no sound came from the inner +room. Then he glanced up towards the gallery.</p> + +<p>There was, of course, no sign of Lady Ursula. Even if she intended anon +to rejoin His Grace, she would certainly wait a little while ere she +once more ventured to sally forth.</p> + +<p>The Cardinal very softly put the key back into the lock, and waited.</p> + +<p>Very soon the door was vigorously shaken. His Eminence retired to the +further end of the room and called loudly—</p> + +<p>"Who goes there?"</p> + +<p>"By Our Lady!" came in strong accents from the other side of the locked +door, "whoever you may be, an<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_193" id="Page_193">[Pg 193]</a></span> you don't open this door, it shall fall +in splinters atop of you."</p> + +<p>Time to once more recross the room, and turn a small key, and a second +later the Cardinal stood face to face with the Duke of Wessex.</p> + +<p>"His Grace of Wessex!" he murmured, with an expression of boundless +astonishment.</p> + +<p>"Himself in person, my lord," rejoined Wessex, trying with all his might +to appear unconcerned before this man, whom he knew to be his deadliest +enemy. "Marry!" he added, with well-acted gaiety, "the next moment, an +Your Eminence had not released me, I might have lost my temper."</p> + +<p>"A precious trifle Your Grace would no doubt have quickly found again," +said His Eminence with marked suavity. "Ah! I well recollect in my young +days being locked in . . . just like Your Grace . . . by a lady who was +no less fair."</p> + +<p>Had he entertained the slightest doubt as to whether the little dramatic +episode just enacted had borne its bitter fruit, he would have seen it +summarily dispelled with the first glance which he had cast at Wessex.</p> + +<p>The Duke's grave face was deadly pale, and the violent effort which he +made to contain himself was apparent in the heavily swollen veins of his +temples and the almost imperceptible tremor of his hands. But his voice +was quite steady as he said lightly—</p> + +<p>"Nay! why should Your Eminence speak of a lady in this case?"</p> + +<p>"What have I said?" quoth the Cardinal, throwing up his be-ringed hands +in mock alarm. "Nay! Your Grace need have no fear. Discretion is an +integral portion of my calling. I was merely indulging in reminiscences. +My purple robes do not, as you know, conceal a priest. Though a prince +of the Church, I am an<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_194" id="Page_194">[Pg 194]</a></span> ecclesiastic only in name, and therefore may +remember, without a blush, that I was twenty once and very hot-tempered. +The lady in my case put me under lock and key whilst she went to another +gallant."</p> + +<p>"Again you speak of a lady, my lord," said the Duke, with the same light +indifference. "May I ask——"</p> + +<p>"Nay, nay! I pray you ask me nothing . . . I saw nothing, believe me +. . ."</p> + +<p>He paused a moment. Wessex had turned to his dog, who, yawning and +stretching, after the manner of his kind, and not the least upset by his +recent incarceration, had just appeared in the doorway of the inner +room.</p> + +<p>"I saw nothing," continued the Cardinal, with a voice full of gentle, +good-natured indulgence, "save a charming lady standing here alone, +close to that door, when I entered with Her Majesty. What Queen Mary +guessed or feared, alas! I cannot tell. The charming lady had just +turned the key in the lock . . . and this set me thinking of my own +youth and follies. . . . But Your Grace must pardon an old man who has +but one affection left in life. Don Miguel is as a son to me——"</p> + +<p>"I pray you, my lord," here interrupted Wessex haughtily, "what has the +Marquis de Suarez' name to do with me?"</p> + +<p>"Only this, my son," rejoined the Cardinal with truly paternal +benevolence, "Don Miguel is a stranger in England . . . I had almost +hoped that hospitality would prevent Your Grace from flying your hawk +after his birds. . . .</p> + +<p>"Don Miguel would be hard hit," he added quickly, seeing that Wessex, at +the end of his patience, was about to make an angry retort, "for we all +know that where His Grace of Wessex desires to conquer, other vows and +other lovers are very soon forgotten . . . But the Marquis is young +. . . I would like to plead his cause. . . ."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_195" id="Page_195">[Pg 195]</a></span>His keen eyes had never for a moment strayed from the proud face of the +Duke. He was shrewd enough to know that in speaking thus, he was +reaching the outermost limits of His Grace's forbearance. His robes and +his age rendered him to a certain extent immune from an actual quarrel +with a man of Wessex' physique, nor did fear for his own personal safety +ever enter into the far-seeing calculations of this astute diplomatist. +Whatever his weaknesses might be, cowardice was not one of them, and he +pursued his own aims boldly and relentlessly.</p> + +<p>But he had had to endure a great deal through the personality and the +presence of the Duke of Wessex: the humiliation put upon him this very +afternoon by Mary Tudor still rankled deeply in his mind, and the vein +of cruelty, almost inseparable from his nationality, rendered the +present situation peculiarly pleasing to this dissector of human hearts.</p> + +<p>Until this moment he had perhaps not quite realized that His Grace of +Wessex had been hard hit. Having wilfully put away from his own life +every tender sentiment, he did not understand the quick rise of a great +and whole-souled passion. The Duke had been ever noted for his +gallantry, his chivalry, and his numerous and light amourettes, and the +Cardinal never imagined that in the daring game which he had planned, +and which with the help of the wench Mirrab he was about to play, he +would have to reckon with something more serious than a passing +flirtation.</p> + +<p>To his feline disposition, his callous estimate of human nature, his +real hatred for this political rival, there was now a delicious +satisfaction in dealing a really mortal wound to the man for whose sake +he had oft been humiliated.</p> + +<p>He felt a thrill of real and cruel delight in seeing this haughty +Englishman half broken under the strain of this<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_196" id="Page_196">[Pg 196]</a></span> mental torture, which +his slanderous words helped to aggravate. With half-closed eyes His +Eminence was watching the quiver of the proud lip, ever ready with +laughter and jest, the tremor of the slender hands, that peculiar +stiffening of the whole figure which denotes a fierce struggle 'twixt +raging passion and iron self-control. Was it not a joy to watch this +gaping wound, into which he himself was pouring a deadly poison with a +steady and unerring hand?</p> + +<p>The game had become doubly interesting now, and so much more important. +The Duke, obviously deeply in love with Lady Ursula, would certainly +never turn to another woman again. If the intrigue contrived by His +Eminence and the Marquis de Suarez succeeded in accordance with their +expectations, then not only would His Grace be parted from the lady in +accordance with Queen Mary's ultimatum, but he would probably bury his +disillusionment and sorrow on some remote estate of his, far from Court +and political strife.</p> + +<p>Chance had indeed been kind to the envoys of the King of Spain.</p> + +<p>Chance, and the natural sequence of events, skilfully guided by the +Cardinal's gentle hands.</p> + +<p>But His Eminence was clever enough to know exactly how far he might dare +venture. For the moment he certainly had said enough. The Duke seemed +partly dazed and had altogether forgotten his presence.</p> + +<p>Without a sound the Cardinal glided out of the room.</p> + +<p>The closing of the door roused Wessex from the torpor into which he had +fallen. The hall looked sombre and dreary, the wax tapers flickered +feebly in their sockets, whilst strange shadows seemed to jeer at him +from the dark corners around. He would not look up at the gallery, the +steps whereon she stood, for it seemed to him as if some mocking witch +wearing her face and her golden<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_197" id="Page_197">[Pg 197]</a></span> hair would look down at him from there, +and laugh and sneer, until she finally faded from his sight in the arms +of the Marquis de Suarez.</p> + +<p>"Other vows and other lovers," he mused, whilst trying to shut away from +his eyes the hellish visions which tortured him. "So my beautiful Fanny +is not mine at all . . . but the Spaniard's . . . or another's . . . +what matter whose? Not true and proud, but a frisky wench, ready for +intrigue, of whom these foreigners speak with a coarse laugh and a shrug +of the shoulders."</p> + +<p>"Harry Plantagenet, my friend," he added, as the dog, seeming to feel +the presence of sorrow, gave his master's hand a gentle lick, "His Grace +of Wessex has been made a fool of by a woman. . . . Ah, fortune! fickle +fortune! one or two turns of your relentless wheel and a host of +illusions . . . the last I fear me . . . have been scattered to the +winds. . . . Shall we go, old Harry? Meseems you are the only honest +person in this poison-infected Court. We'll not stay in it, friend, I +promise you. . . . I am thirsting for the pure air of our Devon moors. +. . . Come, now . . . we must to bed . . . and sleep. . . . Not dream, +old Harry! . . . whatever else we do . . . for God's sake, let us not +dream. . . ."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_198" id="Page_198">[Pg 198]</a></span></p> + +<h2 class="newchapter"><a name="CHAPTER_XXVI" id="CHAPTER_XXVI"></a>CHAPTER XXVI<br /> +<span class="smalltext">THE PROVOCATION</span></h2> + + +<p>When Ursula finally succeeded in escaping from her room, where she had +been forcibly confined—almost a prisoner—in the charge of two +waiting-women, she returned to the hall, vaguely hoping that Wessex +would still be there. She found no one. The closet door was open; taking +one of the wax tapers in her hand she peeped into the inner room and saw +that it was empty.</p> + +<p>On the fur rug, on the floor, was still the impress of Harry +Plantagenet's body, as he had curled himself up patiently to wait and +sleep.</p> + +<p>A sudden draught extinguished the taper and left the small room in total +darkness; to her overwrought nerves it seemed cold and lonely, like a +newly opened grave. Wessex had gone because he had heard that she had +deceived him. The slanders uttered against her had found credence in his +heart. Thus she mused, guessing at the truth, perhaps not even realizing +how much he had suffered.</p> + +<p>She would not go back to her room just yet. She knew that she could not +rest. Though the room was empty there seemed something of him still in +it, even in its cold and deserted aspect.</p> + +<p>She lingered here, sitting in the chair where he had sat and heard. She +could not cry, she would not give way, for she wished to think. +Therefore she lingered.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_199" id="Page_199">[Pg 199]</a></span>Thus fate worked its will in this strange history of that night.</p> + +<p>Wessex did not know that she had returned. After the Cardinal had left +him he waited awhile, but he never guessed that she would come back. Had +he not heard that her kindest favours had been the Spaniard's, ere his +noble Grace had come across her path? With that almost morbid humility +which is such a peculiar and inalienable characteristic of a great love, +he thought it quite natural that she should love Don Miguel, or any +other man, rather than him, and now he was only too willing to suppose +that she had gone to her favoured gallant, leaving him in the ridiculous +and painful position in which she had wantonly placed him.</p> + +<p>He had waited in a desultory fashion, not really hoping that she would +come. Then, as silence began to fall more and more upon the Palace, and +the clock in the great tower boomed the midnight hour, he had finally +turned his steps towards his own apartments.</p> + +<p>To reach them he had to go along the cloisters, and traverse the great +audience chamber, which lay between his suite of rooms and that occupied +by the Cardinal de Moreno and Don Miguel de Suarez.</p> + +<p>As he entered the vast room he was unpleasantly surprised to see the +young Spaniard standing beside the distant window.</p> + +<p>The lights had been put out, but the two enormous bays were open, +letting in a flood of brilliant moonlight. The night was peculiarly +balmy and sweet, and through the window could be seen the exquisite +panorama of the gardens and terraces of Hampton Court, with the river +beyond bathed in silvery light.</p> + +<p>Wessex had paused at the door, his eyes riveted on that distant picture, +which recalled so vividly to his aching senses the poetic idyll of this +afternoon.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_200" id="Page_200">[Pg 200]</a></span>It was strange that Don Miguel should be standing just where he was, +between him and that vision so full of memories now.</p> + +<p>Wessex turned his eyes on the Marquis, who had not moved when he +entered, and seemed absorbed in thought.</p> + +<p>"And there is the man who before me has looked in Ursula's eyes," mused +the Duke. "To think that I have a fancy for killing that young +reprobate, because he happens to be more attractive than myself . . . or +because . . ."</p> + +<p>He suddenly tried to check his thoughts. They were beginning to riot in +his brain. Until this very moment, when he saw the Spaniard standing +before him, he had not realized how much he hated him. All that is +primitive, passionate, semi-savage in man rose in him at the sight of +his rival. A wild desire seized him to grip that weakling by the throat, +to make him quake and suffer, if only one thousandth part of the agony +which had tortured him this past hour.</p> + +<p>He deliberately crossed the room, then opened the door which led to his +own apartments.</p> + +<p>"Harry, old friend," he called to his dog, "go, wait for me within. I +have no need for thy company just now."</p> + +<p>The beautiful creature, with that peculiar unerring instinct of the +faithful beast, seemed quite reluctant to obey. He stopped short, wagged +his tail, indulged in all the tricks which he knew usually appealed to +his master, begging in silent and pathetic language to be allowed to +remain. But Wessex was quite inexorable, and Harry Plantagenet had +perforce to go.</p> + +<p>The door closed upon the Duke's most devoted friend. In the meanwhile +Don Miguel had evidently perceived His Grace, and now when Wessex turned +towards him he exclaimed half in surprise, half in tones of thinly +veiled vexation<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_201" id="Page_201">[Pg 201]</a></span>—</p> + +<p>"Ah! His Grace of Wessex? Still astir, my lord, at this hour?"</p> + +<p>"At your service, Marquis," rejoined the Duke coldly. "Has His Eminence +gone to his apartments? . . . Can I do aught for you?"</p> + +<p>"Nay, I thank Your Grace . . . I thought you too had retired," stammered +the young man, now in visible embarrassment. "I must confess I did not +think to see you here."</p> + +<p>"Whom did you expect to see, then?" queried Wessex curtly.</p> + +<p>"Nay! methought Your Grace had said that questions could not be +indiscreet."</p> + +<p>"Well?"</p> + +<p>"Marry! . . . your question this time, my lord . . ."</p> + +<p>"Was indiscreet?"</p> + +<p>"Oh!" said the Spaniard deprecatingly.</p> + +<p>"Which means that you expect a lady."</p> + +<p>"Has Your Grace any objection to that?" queried Don Miguel with thinly +veiled sarcasm.</p> + +<p>"None at all," replied Wessex, who felt his patience and self-control +oozing away from him bit by bit. "I am not your guardian; yet, methinks, +it ill becomes a guest of your rank to indulge in low amours beneath the +roof of the Queen of England."</p> + +<p>"Why should you call them low?" rejoined the Marquis, whose manner +became more and more calm and bland, as Wessex seemed to wax more +violent. "You, of all men, my lord, should know that we, at Court, seek +for pleasure where we are most like to find it."</p> + +<p>"Aye! and in finding the pleasure oft lose our honour."</p> + +<p>"Your Grace is severe."</p> + +<p>"If my words offend you, sir, I am at your service."</p> + +<p>"Is this a quarrel?"</p> + +<p>"As you please."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_202" id="Page_202">[Pg 202]</a></span>"Your Grace . . ."</p> + +<p>"Pardi, my lord Marquis," interrupted Wessex haughtily and in tones of +withering contempt, "I did not know that there were any cowards among +the grandees of Spain."</p> + +<p>"By Our Lady, Your Grace is going too far," retorted the Spaniard.</p> + +<p>And with a quick gesture he unsheathed his sword.</p> + +<p>Wessex' eyes lighted up with the fire of satisfied desire. He knew now +that this was what he had longed for ever since the young man's insolent +laugh had first grated unpleasantly on his ear. For the moment all that +was tender and poetic and noble in him was relegated to the very +background of his soul. He was only a human creature who suffered and +wished to be revenged, an animal who was wounded and was seeking to +kill. He would have blushed to own that what he longed for now, above +everything on earth, was the sight of that man's blood.</p> + +<p>"Nay, my lord!" he said quietly, "are we children to give one another a +pin-prick or so?"</p> + +<p>And having drawn his sword, he unsheathed his long Italian dagger, and +holding it in his left hand he quickly wrapped his cloak around that +arm.</p> + +<p>"You are mad," protested Don Miguel with a frown, for a sword and dagger +fight meant death to one man at least, and a mortal combat with one so +desperate as Wessex had not formed part of the programme so carefully +arranged by the Cardinal de Moreno.</p> + +<p>"By the Mass, man," was the Duke's calm answer, "art waiting to feel my +glove on thy cheek?"</p> + +<p>"As you will, then," retorted Don Miguel, reluctantly drawing his own +dagger, "but I swear that this quarrel is none of my making."</p> + +<p>"No! 'tis of mine! <i>en garde</i>!"</p> + +<p>Don Miguel was pale to the lips. Not that he was a coward; he had fought +more than one serious duel before<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_203" id="Page_203">[Pg 203]</a></span> now, and risked his life often enough +for mere pastime or sport. But there was such a weird glitter in the +eyes of this man, whom he and his chief had so wantonly wronged for the +sake of their own political advancement, such a cold determination to +kill, that, much against his will, the Spaniard felt an icy shiver +running down his spine.</p> + +<p>The room too! half in darkness, with only the strange, almost unreal +brilliancy of the moon shedding a pallid light over one portion of the +floor, that portion where one man was to die.</p> + +<p>The Marquis de Suarez had been provoked; his was therefore the right of +selecting his own position for the combat. In the case of such a +peculiar illumination this was a great initial advantage.</p> + +<p>The Spaniard, with his back towards the great open bay, had his +antagonist before him in full light, whilst his own figure appeared only +as a dark silhouette, elusive and intensely deceptive. Wessex, however, +seemed totally unconscious of the disadvantage of his own position. He +was still dressed in the rich white satin doublet in which he had +appeared at the banquet a few hours ago. The broad ribbon of the Garter, +the delicate lace at the throat, the jewels which he wore, all would +help in the brilliant light to guide his enemy's dagger towards his +breast.</p> + +<p>But he seemed only impatient to begin; the issue, one way or the other, +mattered to him not at all. The Spaniard's death or his own was all that +he desired:—perhaps his own now—for choice. He felt less bitter, less +humiliated since he held his sword in his hand, and only vaguely +recollected that Spaniards made a boast these days of carrying poisoned +daggers in their belts.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_204" id="Page_204">[Pg 204]</a></span></p> + +<h2 class="newchapter"><a name="CHAPTER_XXVII" id="CHAPTER_XXVII"></a>CHAPTER XXVII<br /> +<span class="smalltext">THE FIGHT</span></h2> + + +<p>Whilst Don Miguel was preparing for the fight, a slight sound suddenly +caused him to turn towards that side of the room, from whence a tall +oaken door led to his own and the Cardinal's apartments. His eyes, +rendered peculiarly keen by the imminence of his own danger, quickly +perceived a thin fillet of artificial light running upwards from the +floor, which at once suggested to him that the door was slightly ajar.</p> + +<p>It had certainly been closed when Wessex first entered the room. Behind +it, as Don Miguel well knew, the Cardinal de Moreno had been watching; +he was the great stage-manager of the drama which he had contrived +should be enacted this night before His Grace. The young Marquis was +only one of the chief actors; the principal actress being the wench +Mirrab, who, surfeited with wine, impatient and violent, had been kept a +close prisoner by His Eminence these last six hours past.</p> + +<p>That little glimmer of light dispelled Don Miguel's strange obsession. +The Cardinal, with the slight opening of that door, had plainly meant to +indicate that he was on the alert, and that this unrehearsed scene of +the drama would not be enacted without his interference. The Duke, who +had his back to that portion of the room, had evidently seen and heard +nothing, and the whole little episode had occurred in less than three +seconds.</p> + +<p>Now Don Miguel was ready, and the next moment the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_205" id="Page_205">[Pg 205]</a></span> swords clashed +against one another. Eye to eye these two enemies seemed to gauge one +another's strength. For a moment their daggers, held in the left hand, +only acted as weapons of defence, the cloaks wrapped round their arms +were still efficient sheaths.</p> + +<p>Very soon the Spaniard realized that his original fears had not been +exaggerated. Wessex was a formidable opponent, absolutely calm, a +skilful fencer, and with a wrist which seemed made of steel. His attack +was quick and vigorous; step by step, slowly but unerringly, he forced +the Marquis away from the stronghold of his position. Try how he might, +parry how he could, the young Spaniard gradually found himself thrust +more and more into full light, whilst his antagonist was equally +steadily working his way round towards the more advantageous post.</p> + +<p>No sound came from the Cardinal's apartments, and Don Miguel dared not +even glance towards the door, for the swiftest look would have proved +his undoing.</p> + +<p>Wessex' face was like a mask, quite impassive, almost stony in its rigid +expression of perfect determination. The Spaniard was still steadily +losing ground, another few minutes and he would be in full light, whilst +the Duke's figure would become the deceptive silhouette. Under those +conditions, and against such a perfect swordsman, the Marquis knew that +his doom was sealed. An icy sweat broke out from his forehead, he would +have bartered half his fortune to know what was going on behind the +door.</p> + +<p>For one awful moment the thought crossed his mind that His Eminence +perhaps had decreed his death at the hands of Wessex. Who knows? the +ways of diplomacy are oft tortuous and ever cruel; none knew that better +than Don Miguel de Suarez himself. How oft had he callously exercised +the right given him by virtue of some important mission entrusted to +him, in order to sweep<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_206" id="Page_206">[Pg 206]</a></span> ruthlessly aside the lesser pawns which stood in +the way of his success?</p> + +<p>Had he become the lesser pawn now in this gigantic game of chess, in +which the hand of a Queen was the final prize for the victor? Was his +death, at the hand of this man, of more importance to the success of the +Cardinal's intrigues than his life would be? If so, Heaven alone could +help him, for His Eminence would not hesitate to sacrifice him +mercilessly.</p> + +<p>The horror of these thoughts gave the young man the strength of despair. +But he might just as well have tried to pierce a stone wall, as to break +the <i>garde</i> of this impassive and deadly opponent. His own wrist was +beginning to tire; the combat had lasted nigh on a quarter of an hour, +and the next few minutes would inevitably see its fatal issue. The +Duke's attacks became more swift and violent; once or twice already Don +Miguel had all but felt His Grace's dagger at his throat.</p> + +<p>Suddenly a piercing woman's shriek seemed to rend the air, the swift +sound of running footsteps, the grating of a heavy door on its hinges, +and then there came another cry, more definite this time—</p> + +<p>"Wessex, have a care!"</p> + +<p>Both the men had paused, of course. Even in this supreme moment when one +life hung in the balance, how could they help turning towards the +distant corner of the room whence had come that piercing shriek.</p> + +<p>The door leading to the Marquis' apartments was wide open now; a flood +of light came from the room beyond, and against this sudden glare, which +seemed doubly brilliant to the dazed eyes of the combatants, there +appeared a woman's figure, dressed in long flowing robes of clinging +white, her golden hair hanging in a wild tangle over her shoulders. A +quaint and weird figure! at first only a silhouette against a glowing +background, but anon it<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_207" id="Page_207">[Pg 207]</a></span> came forward, disappeared completely for a +while in the dense shadow of an angle of the room, but the next moment +emerged again in the full light of the moon, ghostlike and fantastic; a +girlish form, her white draperies half falling from her shoulders, +revealing a white throat and one naked breast; on her hair a few green +leaves, bacchante-like entwined and drooping, half hidden in the tangle +of ruddy gold.</p> + +<p>Wessex gazed on her, his sword dropped from his hand.</p> + +<p>It was she! She, as a hellish vision had shown her to him half an hour +ago, in the great room wherein he had first kissed her: a weird and +witchlike creature, with eyes half veiled, and coarsened, sensuous lips. +It was but a vision even now, for he could not see her very distinctly, +his eyes were dazed with the play of the moonlight upon his sword, and +she, after her second cry, had drawn back into the shadow.</p> + +<p>Don Miguel on the other hand had not seemed very surprised at her +apparition, only somewhat vexed, as he exclaimed—</p> + +<p>"Lady Ursula, I pray you . . ."</p> + +<p>He placed his hand on her shoulder. It was the gesture of a master, and +the tone in which he spoke to her was one of command.</p> + +<p>"I pray you go within," he added curtly; "this is no place for women."</p> + +<p>Wessex' whole soul writhed at the words, the touch, the attitude of the +man towards her; an hour ago, when he stood beside her, he would have +bartered a kingdom for the joy of taking her hand.</p> + +<p>She seemed dazed, and her form swayed strangely to and fro; suddenly she +appeared to be conscious of her garments, for with a certain shamed +movement of tardy modesty she pulled a part of her draperies over her +breast.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_208" id="Page_208">[Pg 208]</a></span>"I wish to speak with him," she whispered under her breath to Don +Miguel.</p> + +<p>But the Spaniard had no intention of prolonging this scene a second +longer than was necessary. It had from the first been agreed between him +and the Cardinal that the Duke should not obtain more than a glimpse at +the wench. At any moment, after the first shock of surprise, Wessex +might look more calmly, more steadily at the girl. She might begin to +speak, and her voice—the hoarse voice of a gutter-bred girl—would +betray the deception more quickly than anything else. The one brief +vision had been all-sufficient: Don Miguel was satisfied. It had been +admirably staged so far by the eminent manager who still remained out of +sight, it was for the young man now to play his rôle skilfully to the +end.</p> + +<p>"Come!" he said peremptorily.</p> + +<p>He seized the girl's wrist, whispered a few words in her ear which never +reached her dull brain, and half led, half dragged her towards the door.</p> + +<p>Wessex broke into a long, forced laugh, which expressed all the +bitterness and anguish of his heart.</p> + +<p>Oh! the humiliation of it all! Wessex suddenly felt that all his anger +had vanished. The whole thing was so contemptible, the banality of the +episode so low and degrading, that hatred fell away from him like a +mantle, leaving in his soul a sense of unutterable disgust and even of +abject ridicule. His pride alone was left to suffer. He who had always +held himself disdainfully aloof from all the low intrigues inseparable +from Court life, who had kept within his heart a reverent feeling of +chivalry and veneration for all women, whether queen or peasant, +constant or fickle, for him to have sunk to this! one of a trio of +vulgar mountebanks, one of two aspirants for the favours of a wanton.</p> + +<p>Of trickery, of deception, he had not one thought.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_209" id="Page_209">[Pg 209]</a></span> How could he have? +The events of the past hours had prepared him for this scene, and he had +had only a brief vision in semi-darkness, whilst everything had been +carefully prepared to blind him completely by this dastardly trick.</p> + +<p>"By Our Lady," he said at last, with that same bitter, heartrending +laugh, "the interruption was most opportune, and we must thank the Lady +Ursula for her timely intervention. What! you and I, my lord, crossing +swords for that?" and he pointed with a gesture of unutterable scorn +towards the swaying figure of the woman. "A farce, my lord, a farce! Not +a tragedy!"</p> + +<p>He threw his dagger on to the floor and sheathed his sword, just as Don +Miguel had succeeded in pushing the girl out of the room and closing the +door on her.</p> + +<p>The Spaniard began to stammer an apology.</p> + +<p>"I pray you speak no more of it, my lord," said the Duke coldly, "'tis I +owe you an apology for interfering in what doth not concern me. As His +Eminence very pertinently remarked just now, hospitality should forbid +me to fly my hawk after your lordship's birds. My congratulations, my +lord Marquis!" he added with a sneer. "Your taste, I perceive, is +unerring. Good night and pleasant dreams."</p> + +<p>He bowed lightly and turned to go.</p> + +<p>Don Miguel watched him until his tall figure had disappeared behind the +door. Then he sighed a deep sigh of satisfaction.</p> + +<p>"An admirably enacted comedy," he mused; "a thousand congratulations to +His Eminence. Carramba! this is the best night's work we have +accomplished since we trod this land of fogs."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_210" id="Page_210">[Pg 210]</a></span></p> + +<h2 class="newchapter"><a name="CHAPTER_XXVIII" id="CHAPTER_XXVIII"></a>CHAPTER XXVIII<br /> +<span class="smalltext">THE SEQUEL OF THE COMEDY</span></h2> + + +<p>Mirrab, during that very brief drama in which she herself had played the +chief rôle, had vainly tried to collect her scattered wits. For the last +few hours two noble gentlemen, one of whom wore gorgeous purple robes, +had been plying her with wine and with promises that she should see the +Duke of Wessex if she agreed to answer to the name of "Lady Ursula," +seeing that His Grace never spoke to any one under the rank of a lady.</p> + +<p>A clever and simple trick, which readily deceived this uneducated, +half-crazy wench, whose life had been spent in gipsy booths, and whose +intellect had long been quashed by the constant struggle for existence, +which mostly consisted of senseless and fantastic exhibitions designed +for the delectation of ignorant yokels.</p> + +<p>She liked the idea of being called "my lady" even when it was done in +mockery, and was delighted at the thought of appearing in this new guise +before the Duke of Wessex, for whom she had entertained a curious and +passionate adoration ever since the dramatic episode of Molesey Fair. +She liked still more the voluptuous garments which she was bidden to +don, and was ready enough to concede to the young foreigner who thus +embellished her, any favours which he chose to demand.</p> + +<p>That had been her training, poor soul! her calling in life—a vulgar +trickster by day, a wanton by night. Do not be too hard in your +judgment, mistress! she knew<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_211" id="Page_211">[Pg 211]</a></span> nothing of home, very little of kindred; +born in the gutter, her ambition did not soar beyond good food and a +little money to spend.</p> + +<p>The Duke of Wessex had saved her life; she was proud of that, and since +that day she had had a burning ambition to see him again. She had hoped +that a warning from the stars would prove a certain passport to his +presence, but His Eminence the Cardinal and the other young gentleman +had assured her that a noble name would alone lead her to him.</p> + +<p>Thus she had been content to wait a few hours: the wine was good and the +foreigner not too exacting. After awhile she had dropped to sleep like +some tired animal, curled up on a rug on the floor. The clash of arms +had roused her, and finding that every door yielded to her touch, she +ran out, in eager curiosity to see whence came the sound. Her first cry, +on seeing that strange moonlit combat, was one of sheer terror; then she +recognized Wessex, and gave him a cry of warning.</p> + +<p>But the wine which she had drunk had made her head heavy. She would have +liked to go to the Duke, but the room seemed to be whirling unpleasantly +around her. Ere she had time to utter another word the young foreigner +had roughly seized her wrist and dragged her away. She was too weak to +resist him, and was reluctantly compelled to follow his lead. The next +moment he had closed the door on her, and she knew nothing more.</p> + +<p>Excitement had somewhat dazed her, but a moment or two later she +partially recovered and collected her scattered senses. She put her ear +to the door and tried to listen, but she could hear nothing. Behind her +was the corridor, out of which opened several doors, one of these being +the one which gave into the room wherein she had been confined the whole +evening. Not a sound came from there either. There was not a sign of my +lord Cardinal.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_212" id="Page_212">[Pg 212]</a></span>Once more she tried the handle of the big door in front of her: it +yielded, and she found herself back in the room where the fight had just +taken place. The moonlight still streamed in through the open window. +She could not see into the corners of the great hall, but straight in +front of her was another massive door, exactly similar to the one in +which she stood.</p> + +<p>The room itself seemed empty. Wessex had gone, and she had not spoken to +him. That was the one great thought which detached itself from the +turmoil which was going on in her brain. The door opposite fascinated +her. Perhaps he had gone through there. Nay! surely so, for it almost +seemed to her as if she could hear that strange, bitter laugh of his +still echoing in the distance.</p> + +<p>She ran across the room, fearful lest he should disappear altogether ere +she could get to him. But even before she reached the door she felt her +arm seized, her body dragged violently back. By the light of the moon, +which fell full on him, she recognized the young foreign lord.</p> + +<p>He had summarily placed himself before her, and he held her wrist in a +tight grip.</p> + +<p>"Let me go!" she murmured hoarsely.</p> + +<p>"No!"</p> + +<p>"I <i>will</i> go to him!"</p> + +<p>"You cannot!"</p> + +<p>He spoke from between his teeth, as if in a fury of rage or fear, she +could not tell which, but as she, poor soul, had never inspired terror +in any one she quaked before his rage.</p> + +<p>Just then she heard, as if in the room beyond, a few footsteps, then a +call: "Come, Harry!" and after that the opening and shutting of a +distant door. It was the Duke of Wessex going again, somewhere where +perhaps she could not find him again, and here was this man standing +between her and the object of her adoration.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_213" id="Page_213">[Pg 213]</a></span>With a vigorous jerk she freed herself from Don Miguel's grasp.</p> + +<p>"Have a care, man, have a care," she said in a low, trembling voice, in +which a suppressed passion seemed suddenly to vibrate. "Let me pass, or +. . ."</p> + +<p>"Silence, wench!" commanded Don Miguel. "Another word and I call the +guard and have thee whipped as a disturber of the peace."</p> + +<p>She started as if stung with the very lash with which he so callously +threatened her. The fumes of wine and of excitement were being slowly +expelled from her dull brain. A vague sense of bitter wrong crept into +her heart; her own native shrewdness—the shrewdness of the country +wench—made her dimly realize that she had been fooled: how and for what +purpose she could not yet comprehend.</p> + +<p>She pushed the tangled hair from her forehead, mechanically readjusting +her cumbersome garments, then she stepped close up to the young +Spaniard; she crossed her arms over her breast and looked him boldly in +the eyes.</p> + +<p>"Soho! my fine lord!" she said, speaking with a strange and pathetic +effort at calmness, "that's it, is it? . . . and do ye take me for a +fool, that I do not see through your tricks? . . . You and that +purple-robed hypocrite there wanted to make use of me . . . you cajoled +me with soft words . . . promises . . . what? . . . Bah! you tricked me, +I say, do you hear?" she added with ever-increasing vehemence, "tricked +me that you might trick him. . . . With all your talks of Ursula and +Lady . . . the devil alone knows what ye wanted. . . . Well! you've had +your way . . . he looked on me as he would on a plague-stricken cur +. . . mangy and dirty. . . . Was that what ye wanted? . . . You've had +your will . . . are ye satisfied . . . what more do ye want of me?"</p> + +<p>Don Miguel, much astonished at this unexpected out<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_214" id="Page_214">[Pg 214]</a></span>burst of passion, +gazed at her with a sneer, then he shrugged his shoulders and said +coldly—</p> + +<p>"Nothing, wench! His Grace of Wessex does not desire thy company, and I +cannot allow thee to molest him. If thou'lt depart in peace, there'll be +a well-filled purse for thee . . . if not . . . the whip, my girl . . . +the whip . . . understand!"</p> + +<p>"I will not go!" she repeated with dogged obstinacy. "I'll not . . . +I'll not . . . I'll see him just once . . . he was good to me. . . . I +love his beautiful face and his kind, white hands; I want to kiss them. +. . . I'll not go . . . I'll not . . . till I've kissed them. . . . So +do not stand in my way, fine sir . . . but let me get to him. . . ."</p> + +<p>The obstinate desire, half a mania now, had grown upon her with this +wanton thwarting of her wishes. A wholly unfettered passion seethed in +her, half made up of hatred against this man who had fooled her and +caused her to be spurned with unutterable contempt by Wessex.</p> + +<p>"I'll give thee three minutes in which to get sober, my wench!" remarked +Don Miguel placidly. "After that, take heed. . . ."</p> + +<p>He laughed a long, cruel laugh, and looked at her with an evil leer, up +and down.</p> + +<p>"After that thou'lt go," he said slowly and significantly, "but not in +peace. The Palace watch have a heavy hand . . . three men to give thee +ten lashes each . . . till thy shoulders bleed, wench . . . aye! I'll +have thee whipped till thou die under it . . . so go now or . . ."</p> + +<p>He looked so evil, so threatening, so full of baffled rage, that +instinctively she drew back a few steps away from him, into the gloom. +. . . As she did so her foot knocked against something on the floor, +whilst the sharp point of some instrument of steel penetrated through +the thin soles of her shoes.</p> + +<p>She had enough presence of mind, enough determination,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_215" id="Page_215">[Pg 215]</a></span> enough deadly +hatred of him, not to give forth one sound; but when he, almost overcome +with his own furious passion, had paused awhile and turned from her, she +stooped very quickly and picked up that thing which had struck her foot. +It was an unsheathed dagger.</p> + +<p>Silently, surreptitiously, she hid it within the folds of her gown, +whilst keeping a tight grip on its handle with her clenched right hand. +Now she felt safe, and sure of herself and of ultimate success.</p> + +<p>Don Miguel, seeing how quiet she had become, heaved a sigh of relief. +For one moment he had had the fear that she meant to create a scandal, +attract the guard with her screams, bring spectators upon the scene, and +thus expose the whole despicable intrigue which had just been so +successfully carried through.</p> + +<p>But now she was standing quite rigid and mute, half hidden by the gloom, +evidently terrorized by the cruel threats hurled against her.</p> + +<p>"Well, which is it to be, wench," said the young man more calmly, "the +purse of gold or the whipping-post?"</p> + +<p>She did not reply at once, and a strange, almost awesome silence fell +upon the scene. Not a sound from any portion of the Palace. Even from +the gardens and terraces, beyond the night watchman's call had ceased to +echo, only from far, very far away beyond the river and the distant +meadows the melancholy hooting of an owl broke the intense stillness of +the place.</p> + +<p>Then the woman began to speak, slowly at first, very calmly, and in a +voice deep and low, like the sound of muffled thunder, growing louder +and louder, more violent, more passionate as she worked herself up into +a very whirlwind of fury.</p> + +<p>"Powers of Hell!" she said, "grant me patience! Man, listen. Ye don't +understand me. . . . I am not one of your fine Court ladies, who simpers +and trips along<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_216" id="Page_216">[Pg 216]</a></span> arrayed in silken kirtle. . . . I am called Mirrab, a +witch, d'ye hear? . . . a witch who knows naught about the law, and the +guard, nor about queens and richly dressed lords. The Duke of Wessex +saved my life . . . and I want to go to him. . . . Do ye let me go. +. . . What is it to ye if I see him? . . . Do ye let me go. . . ."</p> + +<p>Her voice broke into a sob of agonized entreaty and baffled desire.</p> + +<p>"Shall I call the guard?" rejoined Don Miguel coldly.</p> + +<p>She was now quite close to him, he, still between her and the door which +she wished to reach, was half turned away from her, in obvious +impatience, and looking at her over his shoulder with a sneer and a +cruel frown.</p> + +<p>"Do ye let me go!" she entreated once more.</p> + +<p>For sole answer he made pretence at calling the guard.</p> + +<p>"What ho there! the guard! What ho!"</p> + +<p>But the last sound broke in a death rattle. Even as he spoke Mirrab had +thrust the dagger with all her might between his shoulders. He fell +forward on the floor, whilst with one last gasp of agony he called upon +the man whom he had so deeply wronged.</p> + +<p>"A moi! . . . Wessex! . . . I die! . . . A moi! . . ."</p> + +<p>And the silvery moon, who had just gazed on so placidly whilst human +passions ran riot in this vast audience chamber, who had shed her poetic +light on hatred, revenge, and lust, suddenly veiled her brilliant face: +the room was plunged in total darkness as the Marquis de Suarez breathed +his last.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_217" id="Page_217">[Pg 217]</a></span></p> + +<h2 class="newchapter"><a name="CHAPTER_XXIX" id="CHAPTER_XXIX"></a>CHAPTER XXIX<br /> +<span class="smalltext">CHECK-MATE</span></h2> + + +<p>For some time already there had been a certain amount of commotion in +the Palace. Mirrab's shouts when first she saw the combat, then her +high-voiced altercation with Don Miguel, had roused the attention of +some of the guard who were stationed in the cloister green court close +by. Some of the gentlemen too were astir.</p> + +<p>Wessex himself soon after he had reached his own apartments heard the +sound of angry voices proceeding from the room which he had just +quitted. He could hear nothing distinctly, but it seemed to him as if a +woman and a man were quarrelling violently. He tried to shut his ears to +the sound. He would hear nothing, know nothing more of the wanton who +had fooled and mocked him.</p> + +<p>But there are certain instincts in every chivalrous man, which will not +be gainsaid; among these is the impulse to go at once to the assistance +of a woman if she be in trouble or difficulty.</p> + +<p>It was that impulse and nothing more which caused Wessex to retrace his +footsteps. He had some difficulty in finding his way, now that there was +no moonlight to guide him, but as soon as he re-entered the last room, +which was next to the audience chamber, he heard the ominous "A moi!" of +his dying opponent. Also all round him the obvious commotion of a number +of footsteps all tending towards the same direction.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_218" id="Page_218">[Pg 218]</a></span>An icy horror suddenly gripped his heart. Not daring to imagine what had +occurred, he hurried on. By instinct, for he could see nothing, he +contrived to find and open the door, and still going forward he +presently stumbled against something which lay heavy and inert at his +feet.</p> + +<p>In a moment he was on his knees, touching the prostrate body with a +gentle hand; realizing that the unfortunate young man had fallen on his +face, he tried with infinite care to lift and turn him as tenderly as he +could.</p> + +<p>Then suddenly he became conscious of another presence in the room. +Nothing more than a ghostlike form of white, almost as rigid as the +murdered man himself, whilst from the corridors close by the sound of +approaching footsteps, still hesitating which way to go, became more and +more distinct. A murmur of distant voices too gradually took on a +definite sound.</p> + +<p>"This way."</p> + +<p>"No, that."</p> + +<p>"In the court . . ."</p> + +<p>"No! the audience chamber!"</p> + +<p>The ghostly white-clad figure appeared as if turned to stone.</p> + +<p>"Through the window," whispered Wessex with sudden vehemence, "it is not +high!—quick! fly, in the name of God! while there's yet time!"</p> + +<p>That was his only instinct now. He could not think of her as the woman +he had loved, he understood nothing, knew nothing; but in the intense +gloom which surrounded him he had lost sight of the witchlike and +horrible vision which had dealt a death-blow to his love, he seemed only +to see the green bosquets of the park, the pond, the marguerites, and +another white-clad figure, a girlish face crowned with the golden halo +of purity and innocence.</p> + +<p>The wild passion which he had felt for her changed to an agonizing +horror, not only of her deed, but at the thought<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_219" id="Page_219">[Pg 219]</a></span> of seeing her +surrounded, rough-handled by the guard, shamed and treated as a mad and +drunken wanton.</p> + +<p>He despised himself for his own weakness, but at this awful and supreme +moment, when he realized that the idol which he had set up and +worshipped was nothing but defiled mud, he felt for her only tenderness +and pity.</p> + +<p>Love had touched him once, and he knew now that nothing would ever tear +her image completely from out his heart. Love, great, ardent, immutable, +was dead; but death is oft more powerful than life, and his dead love +pleaded for his chivalry, for his protection, with all the power of +sweet memories, and aided by the agonizing grip of cold, stiff hands +clinging to his heartstrings.</p> + +<p>He pointed once more to the open window.</p> + +<p>"Quick! in God's name!"</p> + +<p>The girl moved towards him.</p> + +<p>"Ah no, no, for pity's sake. Go!"</p> + +<p>There was not a second to be lost. Mirrab, realizing her danger, was +sobered and alert. The next moment she was clinging to the window-sill +and measuring its height from the terrace below. It was but a few feet. +As agile as a cat she flung herself over, and disappeared into the gloom +just as the door leading into the audience chamber was thrown violently +open, and a group of people—gentlemen, guard, servitors—bearing +torches came rushing into the room.</p> + +<p>"Water! . . . a leech!—quick, some of you!" commanded Wessex, who held +Don Miguel's head propped against his knee.</p> + +<p>"What is it? . . ." queried every one with unanimous breath.</p> + +<p>Some pressed forward, snatching the flaming torches from the hands of +the servitors. In a moment Wessex and the dead Marquis were surrounded, +and the room flooded with weird, flickering light.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_220" id="Page_220">[Pg 220]</a></span>From the door of the apartments on the left a suave and urbane voice had +sounded softly—</p> + +<p>"What is it?"</p> + +<p>"The Spanish Marquis," murmured the foremost man in the crowd.</p> + +<p>"Wounded?" queried another.</p> + +<p>"Nay! I fear me dead," said Wessex quietly.</p> + +<p>Then the groups parted instinctively, for the same urbane voice had +repeated its query in tones of the gravest anxiety.</p> + +<p>"I was at prayers, and heard this noise. . . . What is it?"</p> + +<p>The Cardinal de Moreno now stood beside the dead body of his friend.</p> + +<p>"Your Grace! and? . . ."</p> + +<p>"Alas, Your Eminence!" replied Wessex, "Don Miguel de Suarez is dead."</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 334px;"> +<img src="images/image-2.jpg" width="334" height="500" alt=""Alas, Your Eminence! Don Miguel de Suarez is dead."" title="" /> +</div> +<p class="caption">"Alas, Your Eminence! Don Miguel de Suarez is dead."</p> + +<p>The Cardinal made no comment, and the next moment was seen to stoop and +pick up something from the ground.</p> + +<p>"But how?" queried one of the gentlemen.</p> + +<p>"A duel?" added another.</p> + +<p>"No, not a duel, seemingly," said His Eminence softly. "Don Miguel's +sword and dagger are both sheathed."</p> + +<p>He turned to the captain of the guard, who was standing close beside +him.</p> + +<p>"Will this dagger explain the mystery, think you, my son?" he asked, +handing a small weapon to the soldier. "I picked it up just now."</p> + +<p>The guard—he was but a young man—took the dagger from His Eminence's +hand, and looked at it attentively. Those who were nearest to him +noticed that he suddenly started, and that the hand which held the +narrow pointed blade trembled visibly.</p> + +<p>"Your Grace's dagger!" he said at last, handing the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_221" id="Page_221">[Pg 221]</a></span> weapon to Wessex. +"It has Your Grace's arms upon the hilt."</p> + +<p>Dead silence followed these simple words. The Duke seemed half dazed, +and mechanically took the dagger from the captain's hand; the blade +still bore on it the marks of Don Miguel's blood.</p> + +<p>"Yes! it is my dagger," he murmured mechanically.</p> + +<p>"But no doubt Your Grace can explain . . ." suggested His Eminence +indulgently.</p> + +<p>Wessex was about to reply when one of the guard suddenly interposed.</p> + +<p>"I seemed to see a woman flying through the gardens just now, captain," +he said, addressing his officer.</p> + +<p>"A woman?" asked His Eminence. "What woman?"</p> + +<p>"Nay, my lord, I couldn't see distinctly," replied the soldier, "but she +was dressed all in white, and ran very quickly along the terrace not far +from this window."</p> + +<p>"Then Your Grace will perhaps be able to tell us . . ." suggested the +Cardinal with utmost benevolence.</p> + +<p>"I can tell Your Eminence nothing," replied Wessex coldly. "I was in +this room all the time and saw no woman near."</p> + +<p>"Your Grace was here?" said His Eminence in gentle tones of profound +astonishment, "alone with Don Miguel de Suarez? . . . The woman . . ."</p> + +<p>"There was no woman here," rejoined the Duke of Wessex firmly, "and I +was alone with Don Miguel de Suarez."</p> + +<p>There was dead silence now, the moon, pale, inquisitive, brilliant, +peeped in through the window to see what was amiss. She saw a number of +men recoiling, awestruck, from a small group composed of a dead man and +of the first gentleman in the land self-confessed as a murderer. No one +dared to speak, the moment was too solemn, too<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_222" id="Page_222">[Pg 222]</a></span> terrible, for any speech +save a half-smothered sigh of horror.</p> + +<p>The captain of the guard was the first to recollect his duty.</p> + +<p>"Your Grace's sword . . ." he began, somewhat shamefacedly.</p> + +<p>"Ah yes! I had forgot," said Wessex quietly, as he rose to his feet. He +drew his sword from its sheath, and with one quick, sudden wrench, broke +the blade across his knee. Then he threw the pieces of steel on the +ground.</p> + +<p>"I am ready to follow you, friend captain," he said, with all the +hauteur, all the light, easy graciousness so peculiar to himself.</p> + +<p>The groups parted silently, almost respectfully, as His Grace of Wessex +passed out of the room—a prisoner.</p> + +<hr class="wide" /> + +<h2><a name="PART_IV" id="PART_IV"></a>PART IV<br /> +<span class="smalltext">HIS GRACE OF WESSEX</span></h2> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_225" id="Page_225">[Pg 225]</a></span></p> + +<h2 class="newchapter"><a name="CHAPTER_XXX" id="CHAPTER_XXX"></a>CHAPTER XXX<br /> +<span class="smalltext">THOUGHTS</span></h2> + + +<p>In the loneliness and silence of the Tower, the Duke of Wessex had had +enough leisure to think.</p> + +<p>One fatal autumn afternoon, and what a change in the destinies of his +life! Yesterday he was the first gentleman in England, loved by many, +feared by a few, reverenced by all as the perfect embodiment of national +pride and national grandeur—almost a king.</p> + +<p>And to-day?</p> + +<p>But of himself, his own obvious fate, the shame and disgrace of his +present position, he thought very little. Ever an easy-going +philosopher, he had as yet kept the insouciance of the gamester who has +staked and lost and is content to retire from the board. One thing more, +remember! Life in those days was not the priceless treasure which later +civilization would have us believe it. There was a greater simplicity of +faith, a more childlike certitude in the great truths of futurity, which +we in our epoch are so ready to cavil at.</p> + +<p>If nations and individuals committed excesses of unparalleled cruelty in +the name of their respective creeds, if men hated each other, tortured +each other, destroyed one another, it was because they misunderstood the +teachings of religion, and not because they ignored or disbelieved them.</p> + +<p>The cruelties themselves are unjustifiable, the mind of +twentieth-century civilization can but gaze at them in mute horror, +history can but record and deplore. But the religion which prompted +them—for it was religion<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_226" id="Page_226">[Pg 226]</a></span>—was not the feeble, anæmic plaything of an +effete generation in search of new excitements; it was strong and +virile, alike in the atrocity of its crimes and the sublimity of its +virtues.</p> + +<p>Thus with a man like Wessex. Life had been pleasant, of course, a bed of +roses worthy even of one of our modern sybarites, but to him only the +episode, which higher thoughts and Christian belief have ever suggested +that it should be.</p> + +<p>Perhaps it would be too much to say that faith alone caused him to look +lightly upon this sudden, tragic ending of his brilliant career, but it +undoubtedly helped him to preserve that easy and unembittered frame of +mind of the philosopher, who, with life, loses that which hath but +little value.</p> + +<p>And now indeed, what worth would life have for him? This is where +thoughts became bitter and cruel, not over death, not over disgrace, but +over the treachery of a woman and the flight of an illusion. What did it +all mean?</p> + +<p>Sometimes now, when he sat looking straight before him at the cold grey +walls of his prison, he seemed to see that strange dual personality +mocking him with all the witchlike elusiveness which had mystified and +tortured him from the first.</p> + +<p>His "Fanny"! that beautiful vision of innocent girlhood; arch, +coquettish, tender yet passionate, the clear depths of those blue eyes, +the purity of that radiant smile!</p> + +<p>And then she! Ursula Glynde! with bare shoulder and breast, cheeks +flushed, but not with shame, eyes moist, yet not with tears, submitting +with feeble, hoarse protests to the masterful touch of an insolent +Spaniard, only to take revenge later with the elemental barbarity of the +street wench, too drunk to understand her crime.</p> + +<p>Every fibre within him cried out that this was not the woman who had +plucked a marguerite petal by petal, and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_227" id="Page_227">[Pg 227]</a></span> quivered with delight at sound +of the nightingale's voice among the willows; not the woman on whose +soft girlish cheeks he had loved to call forth, with an ardent gaze or a +bold word, a tender blush of rosy red, not the woman whom in one brief +second he had learnt to love, whom in one mad, heavenly moment he had +kissed.</p> + +<p>Every sense in him clamoured for the belief that it had all been an ugly +dream, an autumn madness from which he would presently wake at her feet.</p> + +<p>Every sense! yet his eyes had seen her! his ears had heard her respond +to her name, when uttered roughly by the man who seemed to be her +master.</p> + +<p>The truth itself never once dawned upon him. The whole trick had been +managed with such devilish cunning, every piece in the intricate +mechanism of that intrigue had been so carefully adjusted, that it would +have required superhuman insight, or the cold, calculating mind of an +unemotional mathematician, to have hit upon its natural explanation.</p> + +<p>Wessex possessed neither. He was just a man touched for the first time +in his life with the strongest passion of which human creatures are +capable. He loved a woman with all the ardour, all the unreasoning +instincts, all the sublime weakness and folly of which a loyal and +strong heart is capable. That woman had proved a liar and a wanton in +his sight.</p> + +<p>He was forced to believe that; had he not seen her? Which of us hath +ever really grasped the fact that one human being may be fashioned line +for line, feature for feature, exactly like another? Yet such a thing +is. Nature hath every freak. Why not that one?</p> + +<p>He thought of everything, of every solution, of every possibility. +Heaven help him! of every excuse, but never of that. That Nature, in one +of those wayward moods in which no one would dare deny that she at +times<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_228" id="Page_228">[Pg 228]</a></span> indulges, had fashioned a kitchen wench as a lifelike replica of +one of the most beautiful women in England—that one simple, +indisputable, easily verified fact, never once entered his tortured +mind.</p> + +<p>She was mad! yes!—irresponsible for her own actions, yes!—wilfully +wanton! no! a thousand times no! Hers was a dual nature, wherein angels +and devils alternately held sway!</p> + +<p>He, poor fool, had fallen under the spell of the angels, and the devils +had then turned him away from his shrine, shattered his illusions, shown +him his idol's feet of clay, then dared him ever to worship again, ever +to forget the mud which cloyed the bottom of the limpid stream.</p> + +<p>With Harry Plantagenet for sole companion, during the brief days which +preceded his trial, Wessex had indeed leisure for his thoughts. The +faithful animal knew quite well that his master suffered and could not +now be comforted, but he would sit for hours with his wise head resting +on Wessex' knee, his gentle eyes fixed in mute sympathy upon the grave +face of the Duke.</p> + +<p>He knew better than any one that his master was in serious trouble, for +when they were alone together, when no one was there who could see, no +one but this true and silent companion, then philosophy, pride, and +bitterness would fly to the winds and a few hot tears would ease the +oppression which made Wessex' heart ache almost to breaking.</p> + +<p>And Harry Plantagenet, when he saw those tears, would curl himself up +and go to sleep. With his keen, canine instinct, he felt no doubt only +that an atmosphere of peace and rest had descended on the gloomy Tower +prison.</p> + +<p>The faithful creature could not understand that it was the visit of the +angel of sorrow, who, in passing, had lulled a weary man's agonizing +soul with the gentle, soothing touch of his wing.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_229" id="Page_229">[Pg 229]</a></span></p> + +<h2 class="newchapter"><a name="CHAPTER_XXXI" id="CHAPTER_XXXI"></a>CHAPTER XXXI<br /> +<span class="smalltext">MARYE, THE QUEENE</span></h2> + + +<p>Thus day followed day, whilst in the great world without, England was +preparing to see her premier lord arraigned before his peers on a charge +of murder. And in one of the smaller chambers of her own private +apartments at Hampton Court, Mary Tudor sat alone, praying and thinking, +thinking and praying again.</p> + +<p>Not a queen now, not a proud and wilful Tudor, passionate, cruel, or +capricious, but only a middle-aged, broken-hearted woman, with eyes +swollen with weeping, and brain heavy with eternally reiterated desires.</p> + +<p>To save him! to save him!</p> + +<p>But how?</p> + +<p>That he had committed so foul a crime as to stab an enemy in the back, +this in the very face of his own confession Mary still obstinately +refused to believe. The rumours anent the presence of a woman in that +part of the Palace and at that fatal hour had of course reached her +ears. Jealousy and hatred, which had raged within her, had readily +fastened on Ursula Glynde as the cause, if not the actual perpetrator of +the dastardly crime.</p> + +<p>That a woman was somehow or other connected with the terrible events of +that night, every one was of course ready to admit, but in what manner +no one was able to conjecture.</p> + +<p>A murder had been committed. Of that there could be no doubt. Don Miguel +de Suarez had been stabbed<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_230" id="Page_230">[Pg 230]</a></span> in the back! Not in fair fight, but +brutally, callously stabbed! and he a guest at the English Court!</p> + +<p>Of this barbarous, abominable act the Duke of Wessex stood +self-convicted.</p> + +<p>Impossible, of course! Preposterous! pronounced his friends. He! the +first gentleman in England, brave to a fault, fastidious, artistic, and +a perfect swordsman to boot! The very accusation was ridiculous.</p> + +<p>Yet he stood self-convicted.</p> + +<p>Why? in the name of Heaven! Why?</p> + +<p>"To shield a woman," said His Grace's friends.</p> + +<p>"What woman?" retorted his enemies.</p> + +<p>The name of Lady Ursula Glynde had been faintly whispered, yet it seemed +almost as preposterous to suppose that a beautiful young girl—refined, +gentle, poetic, scarce out of her teens—would have the physical +strength to commit so foul a deed, as to think of His Grace in +connection with it.</p> + +<p>Yet, in spite of that, the idea had gained ground, that the Lady Ursula +Glynde could, an she would, throw some light on the mystery which +surrounded the events of that terrible night, and no one brooded over +that idea more determinedly than did Mary Tudor.</p> + +<p>The young girl had of course denied all knowledge of what had or had not +occurred. There was not a single definite fact that might even remotely +connect her with the supposed enmity between Wessex and Don Miguel.</p> + +<p>The Cardinal was not likely to speak, for the present turn of events +suited his own plans to perfection.</p> + +<p>My lord of Everingham was away in Scotland, and news travelled slowly +these days. As for the Queen, she had nothing on which to found her +suspicions, save her own hatred of the girl and the firm conviction that +on that same night, an hour or two before the murder, Ursula and Wessex +had met. She had then seen and upbraided the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_231" id="Page_231">[Pg 231]</a></span> girl in the presence of my +lord Cardinal and the ladies; His Grace was not there then, but what +happened immediately afterwards?</p> + +<p>Had she but dared, Mary Tudor would have submitted her rival to mental +and bodily torture, until she had extracted a confession from her. All +she could do was to confine her to her own room in the Palace; she would +not lose sight of her, although the young girl had begged for permission +to quit the Court and retire to a convent, for the silence and peace of +which she felt an unutterable longing.</p> + +<p>The Duke's trial by his peers was fixed for the morrow.</p> + +<p>It was but a fortnight since that fateful evening. His Grace had been in +the Tower since then, and by virtue of his high influence and of his +exceptional position had demanded and readily obtained a speedy trial.</p> + +<p>Twenty-four hours in which a queen might perchance still save the man +she loved from a shameful and ignominious death. And she had thought and +schemed and suffered during fourteen days, as perhaps no other woman had +ever thought and suffered before. She was queen, yet felt herself +powerless to accomplish the one desire of her life, which she would have +bartered her kingdom to obtain: the life of the man she loved.</p> + +<p>But to-day she had pluckily dried her tears. The whole morning she had +spent at her toilette, carefully selecting—with an agitation which +would have been ridiculous, considering her age and appearance, had it +not been so intensely pathetic—the raiment which she thought would +become her most. She had a burning desire to appear attractive.</p> + +<p>Earnestly she studied the lines of her face, covered incipient wrinkles +and faded cheeks with cosmetics, spent nigh on an hour in the +arrangement of her coif. Then she repaired to a small room, which was +hung with tapestry of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_232" id="Page_232">[Pg 232]</a></span> a dull red, and into which the fading afternoon +light would only peep very gently and discreetly.</p> + +<p>Since then she had paced that narrow room incessantly and impatiently. +Every few moments she rang a handbell, and to the stolid page or +servitor in attendance she repeated the same anxious query—</p> + +<p>"Is the guard in sight yet?"</p> + +<p>"Not yet, Your Majesty," reiterated the page for the tenth time that +day.</p> + +<p>It was nigh on three o'clock in the afternoon when the Duchess of +Lincoln at last came with the welcome news.</p> + +<p>"The captain of the guard desires to report to Your Majesty that the +Tower Guard, with His Grace the Duke of Wessex, are at the gates of the +Palace."</p> + +<p>Mary, with her usual characteristic gesture, pressed her hand to her +heart, unable to speak with the sudden emotion which had sent the blood +throbbing in her veins. The kind old Duchess, her wrinkled face +expressive of the deepest sorrow and the most respectful sympathy, +waited patiently until the Queen had recovered herself.</p> + +<p>"'Tis well," said Mary, after a while. "I pray you, Duchess, to see that +His Grace is introduced in here at once."</p> + +<p>When she was alone she fell upon her knees, a great sob shook her +delicate frame. She took her rosary from her girdle and with passionate +fervour kissed the jewelled beads.</p> + +<p>"Holy Mary, Mother of God!" she murmured amidst her tears, "make him +listen to me! . . . pray for me . . . intercede for me, Queen of Heaven, +mystic rose, tower of ivory, holy virgin, our mother . . . pray for me +now . . . I would save him, and I would make him King. . . . Queen of +Heaven, aid me . . . Mother of God, make him to love me . . . make him +. . . to love me! . . ."</p> + +<p>After that she rose, and carefully wiped her tears.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_233" id="Page_233">[Pg 233]</a></span> She cast a glance +at a small mirror which stood on the table, smoothed her hair and coif +and forced her lips to smile.</p> + +<p>The next moment there was a knock at the door, a clash of arms, the +sound of voices, and two minutes later His Grace of Wessex was in the +presence of the Queen.</p> + +<p>She held out her hand to him and he stooped to kiss it. This gave her +time to recover outward composure. Her fond heart ached at sight of him, +for he seemed so altered. All the gaiety, the joy of life, that buoyancy +of youth and ever-ready laughter which had always been his own peculiar +charm, had completely gone from him: he looked older too, she thought, +whilst his step even had lost its elasticity.</p> + +<p>Mary motioned him to a seat close beside her. She herself had wisely +chosen so to place her chair that the light from the window, whilst +falling full on him, left her own figure in shadow.</p> + +<p>"I trust, my lord," she began with a trembling voice, "that my guard at +the Tower are showing you all the deference and doing you all the honour +which I have commanded, and that your every comfort in that abode of +evil hath been well looked to?"</p> + +<p>"Your Majesty is ever gracious," replied Wessex, "far more than I +deserve. The kindness shown me by every one at the Tower hath been a +source of the deepest happiness to me."</p> + +<p>"Nay! if I could . . ." began Mary impulsively.</p> + +<p>Then she checked herself, determined not to let emotion get the better +of her, ere she had told him all that she wished to say.</p> + +<p>"My lord of Wessex," she resumed more firmly, "will you try to think +that you are before a sincere and devoted friend; not before your Queen, +but beside a woman who<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_234" id="Page_234">[Pg 234]</a></span> hath naught so much at heart as . . . your +happiness? . . . Will you try?"</p> + +<p>"The effort will not be great," he replied with a smile. "Your Majesty's +kindness hath oft shamed me ere this."</p> + +<p>"Then, if you value my friendship, my lord," rejoined Mary vehemently, +"give me some assurance that to-morrow, before your judges and your +peers, you will refute this odious charge which is brought against you."</p> + +<p>"I crave Your Majesty's most humble pardon," said Wessex. "I have made +confession of the crime imputed to me and can refute nothing."</p> + +<p>"Nay, my lord, this is madness. You, the most gallant gentleman in +England, you, to have done a deed so foul as would shame the lowest +churl! Bah!" she added, with a bitter laugh, "'twere a grim farce, if it +were not so terrible a tragedy!"</p> + +<p>"Nay! not a tragedy, Your Majesty. Better men than I have made a failure +of their lives. So I pray you, think no more of me."</p> + +<p>"Think no more of you, dear lord," said Mary, with an infinity of +reproach in her voice. "Ah me, I think of naught else since that awful +night when they came and told me that you . . ."</p> + +<p>There was a catch in her throat and perforce she had to pause. Oh! the +irony of fate! The bitter satire of that wanton god, called Love!</p> + +<p>Wessex looked at this proud Tudor Queen with a deep reverence, in which +there was almost a thought of pity. This lonely, middle-aged woman, +passionate, self-willed, who loved him with all the tenderness of +pent-up motherhood! yet, try how he might! he could only respond to her +true affection with cold respect and deep but unimpassioned gratitude! +Yet was not her worth ten thousandfold more great than that of the +wanton, whose image still filled his heart?</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_235" id="Page_235">[Pg 235]</a></span>The one woman he honoured, the other he must perforce despise, and +yet—such is the heart of man—he was more ready than ever to give up +life, honour, a great name, and still greater destiny, so that the +worthless object of his whole-hearted affection should be spared public +disgrace.</p> + +<p>He would not have named Ursula Glynde in this chaste, virgin Queen's +presence, the very remembrance of that awful night was a pollution, but +proud and haughty as he was, he dwelt on that memory, for it was the +last which he had of her.</p> + +<p>Mad, foolish, criminal, sublime Love! The sin of the loved one was +dearer to him than all the virtues of which other women were capable, +and whilst Mary Tudor would have given him a crown, he found it sweeter +far to accept ignominy for Ursula's sake.</p> + +<p>Perhaps something of all these thoughts which went on in his mind was +reflected in his face, for Mary, who had been watching him keenly, said +after a while with a tone of bitter resentment—</p> + +<p>"My lord, I know that your silence over this mysterious affair is +maintained out of a chivalrous desire to shield another . . . a woman. +. . . Ah, consider. . . ."</p> + +<p>"I have considered," replied Wessex firmly, "and I entreat Your Majesty +. . ."</p> + +<p>"Nay! 'tis I who entreat," she interrupted him vehemently. "Let us look +facts in the face, my lord. Think you we are all fools to believe in +your cock-and-bull story? A woman was seen that night flying from the +Palace across the terrace . . . who was she? . . . whence did she come? +. . . None of the watch could see her face, and the louts were too +stupid to run after her . . . but there are those within this Court at +this moment who will swear that that woman was Ursula Glynde."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_236" id="Page_236">[Pg 236]</a></span>Strangely enough this was the first time, since that fatal night, that +this name was actually spoken in Wessex' hearing: it seemed to sting him +like the cut of a lash across his face. For that one brief instant he +lost his icy self-control, and Mary saw him wince.</p> + +<p>"Ursula has been questioned," she continued, "but she remains obdurately +silent. Believe me, my lord, you waste your chivalry in defence of a +wanton."</p> + +<p>But already Wessex had recovered himself.</p> + +<p>"Your Majesty is mistaken," he rejoined calmly. "I know naught of Lady +Ursula Glynde, and I defend no one by confessing my crime."</p> + +<p>"You'll not persist in that insensate confession."</p> + +<p>"'Twill not be necessary, Your Majesty, my judges have it in full, writ +by mine own hand."</p> + +<p>"You'll recant it."</p> + +<p>"Why should I? 'Twas done willingly, in full possession of my faculties, +under no compulsion."</p> + +<p>"You'll recant it!" she persisted obstinately.</p> + +<p>"Why should I?"</p> + +<p>"Because I ask it of you," she said with great gentleness, "because I +. . ."</p> + +<p>She rose from her chair, and came closer to him. Then as he, +respectfully, would have risen too, she placed a detaining hand upon his +shoulder.</p> + +<p>"Listen, my lord," she said, "for I've thought of it all. . . . This is +not a moment when foolish prejudices and mock modesty should stand in +the way of so great an issue. . . . I would throw my soul, my future +life, my chances of paradise on that one stake—your innocence. . . ."</p> + +<p>"Your Majesty . . ."</p> + +<p>"Nay, I pray you, do not waste these few valuable minutes in vain +protestations, which I'll not believe. . . . There's not a sane man in +this country who thinks you<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_237" id="Page_237">[Pg 237]</a></span> guilty. . . . Yet on this confession your +judges and peers will condemn you to death . . . must condemn you, so +that the law of England is satisfied—and you, my lord, will suffer +death with a lie upon your lips."</p> + +<p>"The truth," rejoined Wessex firmly; "'twas I killed the Marquis de +Suarez."</p> + +<p>"A lie, my lord, a lie," protested Mary passionately; "the first you've +ever told, the last you'll be allowed to breathe. . . . But let it pass. +. . . I'll not torture your pride by forcing you to repeat that +monstrous tale again. Would I could wrench her secret from the cowardly +lips of that hussy. . . . Oh! if I were a man . . . a king like my +father! . . . I'd have her broken on the wheel, tortured on the rack, +whipped, lacerated, burnt, but I'd have the truth from her!"</p> + +<p>Wessex took her hand in his. She was trembling from head to foot. The +inward, real Mary Tudor had risen to the surface for this one brief +moment. All the cruelty in her, which in after life made this wretched +woman's name the byword of history, seemed just then to smother her very +womanhood, her every tender thought. At the touch of Wessex' hand she +paused suddenly, shamed and in tears, that he should have seen her like +this.</p> + +<p>"Before she came you said many sweet words to me," she murmured, as if +trying to find an excuse for her terrible outburst. "Ah! I know . . . I +know . . ." she added, with a bitter tone of melancholy, "you never +loved me . . . how could you? . . . Men like you do not love an +ill-favoured creature like me, old, bad-tempered . . . with something of +the brute under the queenly robes. . . . But . . . you had affection for +me once, my dear lord . . . and an unimpassioned love can bring +happiness sometimes. . . . I would soon make you forget these last +terrible days . . . and . . ."</p> + +<p>Her voice had sunk down very low, almost to a whisper<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_238" id="Page_238">[Pg 238]</a></span> now, the hand, +which he still held in his own, trembled violently and became burning +hot.</p> + +<p>"And no one would dare to whisper ill of the King Consort of England."</p> + +<p>He turned to her; she was standing beside him, her hand imprisoned in +his, her face bent so that he could not meet her eyes. But there was +such an infinity of pathos in the attitude of this domineering, haughty +woman wilfully humbling her pride before her love, that with a tender +feeling of reverence he bent the knee before her and tenderly kissed her +hand.</p> + +<p>"Ah, my sweet Queen," he said with gentle sadness, "I am and always will +be your most devoted subject—but do you not see how impossible it is +that I should accept this great honour, which you would deign to confer +upon me?"</p> + +<p>"You refuse? Is it that you have not one spark of love for me?"</p> + +<p>"I have far too much veneration for my Queen to allow her to sully her +fair name. If being avowedly guilty I were acquitted by Your Majesty's +desire, 'twould be said the Queen had saved her lover . . . and then +married a felon."</p> + +<p>"I would stake mine honour, that no one shall dare . . ."</p> + +<p>"Honour is already lost, my Queen, once it is at stake."</p> + +<p>"But I will save you," cried Mary with ever-increasing vehemence, "in +spite of yourself, in spite of your confessions, in spite of all these +lies and deceptions. . . . I'll save you in the very teeth of your +judges and your peers, and proclaim to the whole world that I saved +you—guilty or not guilty, proud gentleman or felon—because my name is +Mary Tudor, and that there is no law in England outside my will."</p> + +<p>Pride and passion almost beautified her. Her love for<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_239" id="Page_239">[Pg 239]</a></span> this man was the +one soft, tender trait in her strange and complex character, but +Tudor-like she <i>would</i> have her way, she would rule his destiny, command +his fate, tear and destroy everything around her so long as her caprice +held sway. But he had suddenly risen to his feet, and stood confronting +her now, tall and erect, with a pride as great, as obstinate as her own, +a haughty dignity which neither Queen nor destiny, neither sorrow, +disgrace or fear had the power to bend.</p> + +<p>"Ere that dishonour fall upon us both, Your Majesty," he said firmly, +"the last Duke of Wessex will lie in a suicide's grave."</p> + +<p>Her eyes were fixed upon his, and he, carried away by the poignancy of +this supreme battle fought by his pride against her passion, allowed her +to read his innermost thoughts. He had nothing to hide from her now, not +even his love, miserable and desperate as it was: but he wanted her to +know that not even at this fateful moment, when he stood 'twixt a +scaffold and a crown, did he waver in the firm resolve which had guided +him throughout his life.</p> + +<p>He would <i>not</i> become the tool and minion of a Tudor queen—loving +enough now, but endowed with all the vices and all the arrogance of her +race; he would not barter his life in order to become the butt of +contending political factions, the toy of ambitious parties, flattered +by some, hated by most, despised by all. A courtier, a lapdog, an +invertebrate creature without power or dignity.</p> + +<p>Bah! the hangman's rope was less degrading!</p> + +<p>And Mary, as she read all this in the expressive eyes which met hers +fully and unwaveringly, realized that her cause was lost. She had staked +everything on this one final appeal, but she, a Tudor, had struck +against an obstinacy greater than her own. She could not flatter, she +could not bribe, and he was—by the very hopelessness<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_240" id="Page_240">[Pg 240]</a></span> of his present +position—beyond the reach of threats or punishment.</p> + +<p>He saw that her heart was admitting that she was vanquished. The +hardness within him melted into pity.</p> + +<p>"Believe me, my Queen," he said gently, "the memory of your kind words +will accompany me to my life's end, it will cheer me to-morrow and +sustain me to the last. And now for pity's sake," he added earnestly, +"may I entreat Your Majesty to order the guard . . . and to let me go."</p> + +<p>"That is not your last word, my lord," urged Mary with the insistence of +a desperate cause. "Think. . . ."</p> + +<p>"I have thought—much," he replied quietly. "Life holds nothing very +tempting at best, does it? The honour of the Queen of England and mine +own self-esteem were too heavy a price to pay for so worthless a +trifle."</p> + +<p>Mary would have spoken again, but just then there was a discreet knock +at the door twice repeated. She had perforce to say—</p> + +<p>"Enter!" and the next moment a page-in-waiting stood bowing before her.</p> + +<p>"What is it?" she demanded.</p> + +<p>"The Lord High Steward has arrived at the Palace, Your Majesty," +announced the page, "and the Lieutenant of the Tower demands the +prisoner."</p> + +<p>"'Tis well! you may go."</p> + +<p>"The Lieutenant of the Tower awaits Your Majesty's pleasure and His +Grace of Wessex in the next room."</p> + +<p>"'Tis well. The Lieutenant may wait."</p> + +<p>The page bowed again and retired.</p> + +<p>Then only did Mary Tudor's self-control entirely desert her. Forgetting +all her dignity and pride, her self-will and masterfulness, she clung to +the man she loved with passionate ardour, sobbing and entreating.</p> + +<p>"No! no!—they shall not take you!—they dare not! Say but one word to +me, my dear lord . . . what is it to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_241" id="Page_241">[Pg 241]</a></span> you?—'twere all my life to me. +. . . What should we care for the opinion of the world?—Am I not above +it? . . . so will you be when you are King of England. . . ."</p> + +<p>Wessex had need of all his firmness, and of all his courage, to free +himself as gently as he could from her clinging arms. He waited until +her half-hysterical paroxysm of grief had subsided, smoothing with +tender hand her moist hair and burning forehead. She was a woman beside +herself with grief, almost sublime in this hour of madness.</p> + +<p>"I will not let you go!" she repeated persistently.</p> + +<p>Through the door there came the sound of a slight clash of arms. The +Lieutenant of the Tower and his guard were impatiently waiting for their +prisoner. Wessex saw Mary's whole figure stiffen at this muffled sound. +Like an enraged animal she turned towards the door. For one second he +wondered what she would do, how much humiliation her uncontrolled +passion would heap upon him, through some mad, impulsive action. He +jumped to his feet, and, regardless of all save the imminence of this +critical moment, he seized both her wrists in an iron grip, striving +through the infliction of this physical pain to bring back her wandering +senses.</p> + +<p>She looked him straight in the face with a tender and appealing gaze----</p> + +<p>"Did you not know that I loved you even to humiliation?" she said.</p> + +<p>"May God and all His angels bless you for that love," he replied +earnestly, "but before Him and them I swear to you that if you do not +allow the justice of your realm to have its will with me, I'll not +survive your own disgrace and mine."</p> + +<p>She closed her eyes, trying to shut out that picture of unbendable +determination expressed in his whole attitude, and which she at last +felt that nothing would conquer.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_242" id="Page_242">[Pg 242]</a></span> The rigidity of her figure relaxed, +the fury died out from her heart, she only felt inexpressibly sorrowful, +helpless and broken-hearted.</p> + +<p>"God be with you, my dear lord," she whispered.</p> + +<p>He kissed her hands: all the fever had gone out of them, they were icy +cold: there was neither arrogance nor obstinacy in her face now, her +eyes were still closed, and one by one, heavy tears fell down her wan +cheeks.</p> + +<p>The pathos of her helplessness and of her crushed pride made a strong +appeal to the sentiments of tender loyalty which he had always felt for +her, who was his Queen and Liege Lady. He saw that she was determined +not to break down, that she was gathering all her courage for the +supreme farewell.</p> + +<p>"I beseech Your Majesty to allow me to order the guard," he urged.</p> + +<p>She tottered and would have fallen, had he not put out his arm to +support her.</p> + +<p>"Do not forget that you are a Tudor and a Queen, and remember," he added +quaintly, as her head fell against his shoulder, "remember . . . I am +only a man!"</p> + +<p>He led her back to her seat, then he touched the handbell, and when the +page appeared he said firmly—</p> + +<p>"I am at the Lieutenant's service."</p> + +<p>He knelt once more before the Queen and finally bade her farewell. She +could neither speak nor move, and scarcely had the strength to take a +last look at the loved one, as with a firm step he passed out of her +sight.</p> + +<p>There was a clash of steel against steel, a few words of command, the +sound of retreating footsteps, then silence.</p> + +<p>Queen Mary Tudor was alone with her grief.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_243" id="Page_243">[Pg 243]</a></span></p> + +<h2 class="newchapter"><a name="CHAPTER_XXXII" id="CHAPTER_XXXII"></a>CHAPTER XXXII<br /> +<span class="smalltext">A BARGAIN</span></h2> + + +<p>But Mary would not have been the woman she was if she admitted a +failure, whilst there was still a chance of victory.</p> + +<p>The first half-hour after Wessex' departure she gave way to weakness and +to a flood of tears, she turned to her prie-Dieu and prayed fervently +for resignation to the heavenly will, for strength to bear her cross.</p> + +<p>"Holy Mother of our crucified Lord, pray for me now and at the hour of +<i>his</i> death," was the burden of her passionate orisons.</p> + +<p>"Take my life since <i>he</i> must die," she added, striking her breast and +falling prostrate before the holy images.</p> + +<p>And then reaction set in. She felt more calm after her prayers, and +began to think more clearly. The inevitableness of a catastrophe seemed +to become less tangible, a persistent and hopeful "if" crept in amongst +her desperate litanies. She dried her tears, rang for her waiting-woman, +had her face bathed with soothing, scented waters, her temples rubbed +with perfumed vinegar.</p> + +<p>All the while now she repeated to herself—</p> + +<p>"I <i>will</i> save him . . . I <i>will</i> save him . . . but how? . . . how?"</p> + +<p>She had less than twenty-four hours in which to do it, and she had spent +fourteen days previously in the same endeavour, without arriving at any +definite plan, save the one which had so signally failed just now.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_244" id="Page_244">[Pg 244]</a></span>"If being found guilty I were acquitted at Your Majesty's desire, +'twould be said the Queen had saved her lover—and then married a +felon!" was his sole reply to her impassioned query whether he loved her +and would be saved by her command.</p> + +<p>She would have been content to lose her honour for his sake, he would +not even jeopardize his own self-esteem for hers. If he had one spark of +love for her he would have been content to challenge the opinion of the +world, whilst accepting his life at her hands, but he cared naught about +death, and all the world for another woman who was false, a coward, a +wanton, and who boldly allowed him to sacrifice his honour for her, +whilst she herself had none to lose.</p> + +<p>"Then I will save him in spite of himself," repeated Mary for the +hundredth time.</p> + +<p>Suddenly a thought struck her. She rang her hand-bell, and to the +servitor who appeared at the door she commanded briefly—</p> + +<p>"His Eminence the Cardinal de Moreno;—I desire his presence here at +once."</p> + +<p>The servitor retired, and she waited in seeming calm, sitting at her +desk, her trembling hand alone betraying the excitement of her mind.</p> + +<p>Five minutes later, the Cardinal stood before her, placid, urbane, +picturesque in his brilliant, flowing robes, with one white, richly +be-ringed hand raised in benediction, as he stood waiting for the Queen +to speak.</p> + +<p>"I pray Your Eminence to be seated," began Mary, speaking with feverish +haste. "I have something of grave import to say to you, which brooks of +no delay, else I had not interrupted you at your orisons."</p> + +<p>"My time is ever at Your Majesty's service," replied the Cardinal +humbly. "In what way may I have the honour to serve the Queen of England +to-day?"</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_245" id="Page_245">[Pg 245]</a></span>He was looking keenly at her face: not a single sign of her intense +mental agitation escaped his shrewd observation. A satisfied smile +lurked round the corners of his thin lips, and a flash of triumph lit up +the depths of his piercing eyes.</p> + +<p>That searching glance at Mary Tudor had told the envoy of the King of +Spain that victory was at last within his grasp.</p> + +<p>"My lord Cardinal," rejoined Mary firmly, "you are aware of the fact +that His Grace of Wessex is on the eve of being tried by his peers, for +a heinous crime of which he is innocent."</p> + +<p>"I am aware," replied the Cardinal gently, "that His Grace stands +self-convicted of the murder of my friend and colleague Don Miguel, +Marquis de Suarez, a guest at Your Majesty's Court."</p> + +<p>"Truce on this folly, my lord," retorted Mary impatiently, "you know +just as well as I do, that His Grace is incapable of any such act of +cowardice, and that some mystery, which no one can fathom, lies at the +bottom of this monstrous self-accusation."</p> + +<p>"Whatever may be my own feelings in this matter, Your Majesty," said His +Eminence, still speaking very guardedly, "I was forced to accomplish my +duty, when I made and signed my deposition, which I fear me has gone far +towards confirming the guilt of His Grace."</p> + +<p>"I have heard of your deposition, my lord. It rests on your finding His +Grace's dagger. . . ."</p> + +<p>"Beside the body of the murdered man, and still stained with Don +Miguel's blood."</p> + +<p>"What of that? Some one else must have used the dagger."</p> + +<p>"Possibly."</p> + +<p>"You did not suggest this in your deposition."</p> + +<p>"It was not asked of me by His Grace's judges."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_246" id="Page_246">[Pg 246]</a></span>"There is time to make a further statement."</p> + +<p>"It could but be in consonance with what I have already said."</p> + +<p>"And your servant?"</p> + +<p>"Pasquale?"</p> + +<p>"He lied when he averred that he heard angry words 'twixt His Grace and +Don Miguel."</p> + +<p>"He has sworn it upon oath. Pasquale is a good Catholic, and would not +commit the deadly sin of perjury."</p> + +<p>"You are fencing with me, my lord," said Mary Tudor with sudden +vehemence.</p> + +<p>"I but await Your Majesty's command!" rejoined His Eminence blandly.</p> + +<p>"My command?" she said firmly. "This, my lord, that you save His Grace +of Wessex from the consequences of this crime, in which he had no hand."</p> + +<p>"To save His Grace of Wessex?" he ejaculated with the greatest +astonishment, "I? and at this eleventh hour? Nay! meseems that were +impossible."</p> + +<p>"Then Your Eminence can set your wits to attempt the impossible," +rejoined Mary curtly.</p> + +<p>"But why should Your Majesty suggest this strange task to me?" he urged +with the same well-feigned surprise.</p> + +<p>"Because Your Eminence hath more brains than most."</p> + +<p>"Your Majesty is too gracious."</p> + +<p>"And because you have the success of your own schemes more at heart than +most," added the Queen significantly.</p> + +<p>"Then, if I do not succeed in effecting the impossible, Your Majesty, am +I to be sent back to Spain ignominiously to-morrow?" queried the +Cardinal with more than a soupçon of sarcasm.</p> + +<p>"No!" rejoined Mary quietly, "but if you succeed I will give you in +reward anything which you may ask."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_247" id="Page_247">[Pg 247]</a></span>"Anything, my daughter? Even your hand in marriage to King Philip of +Spain?"</p> + +<p>"If Your Eminence succeeds in effecting the impossible," replied Mary +firmly, "I will marry King Philip of Spain."</p> + +<p>There was silence for a moment or two. His Eminence was meditating. Not +that he had been taken unawares. For the past fortnight he had been +expecting some such interview as the Queen had now demanded at the +eleventh hour. He was far-seeing and shrewd enough to have anticipated +that, sooner or later, Mary Tudor would propose a bargain, whereby he +would be expected to pit his wits against Fate, and thereby earn the +victory which she knew he coveted. The task was a difficult one; not +impossible—for the Cardinal never admitted that anything was +impossible. But he was peculiarly placed, and he knew the value of royal +promises and of royal compacts. This one he thought he could enforce, +but only if his methods were above suspicion. To have confessed the +whole dastardly intrigue of that eventful night would certainly have +saved the Duke from condemnation, but the tale itself would so disgust +these stiff-necked Britishers, that Mary would see herself easily +released from her promise through unanimous public opinion.</p> + +<p>That simple and sure method of obtaining the Duke's acquittal was +therefore barred to him, and he had perforce to reflect seriously, ere +he closed with the bargain which Mary Tudor held so temptingly before +him. His mind was clearer, less scrupulous than that of his colleagues, +and he had most at stake now, for nothing but ultimate success could +justify the heinousness of his methods. If his schemes failed, then +these methods became monstrous and criminal beyond hope of pardon.</p> + +<p>For the moment the Cardinal had no remorse. The sacrifice of every piece +in the great human game of chess was of no importance if the final +mating of his enemies<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_248" id="Page_248">[Pg 248]</a></span> were gained. Don Miguel was dead, Lord Everingham +far away; the wench Mirrab, terrified at her own act probably, had +disappeared and no doubt would not be heard of again until His +Eminence's victory was assured. This he had hoped to attain with the +death of the Duke of Wessex and Mary's consequent grief and feebleness +of will, always supposing that Lord Everingham did not return in time to +ruin the whole scaffolding of his tortuous diplomacy.</p> + +<p>That was the great danger and one which was ever present before the +Cardinal's mind: the return of Lord Everingham. Every day added to the +danger, and it was Wessex' own impatience to see the end of his own +shattered existence, which had up to now saved His Eminence from +exposure.</p> + +<p>The Duke had urged that his trial should come on speedily. This was +readily granted, for he was the Duke of Wessex still. The trial itself +would not last more than the one day, seeing that the accused had made +full confession and only a few secondary depositions were to be read for +form's sake. His Grace had refused counsel, there could be no argument. +The judges on the face of the circumstantial self-accusation were bound, +in the name of justice, to convict and condemn, in spite of public +opinion, in spite of the machinations of the Duke's friends, in spite +even of the Queen's commands.</p> + +<p>Once His Grace was out of the way, His Eminence had felt that he would +be able to breathe more freely, but until then he was living at the edge +of a volcano, and often wondered how it had not broken out ere now.</p> + +<p>The news of the crime and of Wessex' arrest had been sent to Scotland, +he knew that; but the way thither was long, the late October gales would +make the journey by sea difficult, whilst the overland roads, sodden +with the rain, were unusually bad; but in any event, Everingham was +bound to arrive in England within the next ten days,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_249" id="Page_249">[Pg 249]</a></span> for, of a surety, +he would travel with mad speed on hearing the terrible news.</p> + +<p>But now Mary Tudor suddenly offered him a definite promise, a bargain +which he could clinch before exposure had shamed him publicly. The task +proposed was indeed difficult, but it was not impossible to such a +far-reaching mind as that of my lord Cardinal.</p> + +<p>A few moments' deep reflection, whilst the Queen watched him eagerly, +and he had already formed a plan.</p> + +<p>"Does Your Eminence accept the bargain?" asked Mary impatiently at last, +seeing that he seemed disinclined to break the silence.</p> + +<p>"I accept it, Your Majesty," he replied quietly.</p> + +<p>"You have my royal promise if you succeed."</p> + +<p>"If His Grace to-morrow is acquitted by his judges, through my +intervention," said His Eminence, "I will claim Your Majesty's promise +in the evening."</p> + +<p>"Your Eminence can have a document ready and I will sign it."</p> + +<p>"It shall be done as Your Majesty directs."</p> + +<p>"Then I'll bid Your Eminence farewell, until to-morrow."</p> + +<p>"I am ever at Your Majesty's service. But before retiring I would crave +one favour."</p> + +<p>"I pray you speak."</p> + +<p>"To speak to the Lady Ursula Glynde."</p> + +<p>A long bitter laugh of the keenest disappointment came from Mary Tudor's +oppressed heart.</p> + +<p>"Nay!" she said in a tone of deep discouragement, "an you pin your faith +on that hussy, Your Eminence had best give up the attempt at once."</p> + +<p>"Did I not say that I would attempt the impossible?" said the Cardinal, +unperturbed.</p> + +<p>"The impossible indeed, an you wish to appeal to that wench," retorted +Mary drily.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_250" id="Page_250">[Pg 250]</a></span>"Have I Your Majesty's permission to speak to the lady?" persisted the +Cardinal blandly.</p> + +<p>Mary shrugged her shoulders impatiently. She was terribly disappointed. +All her hopes had been built on the clever machinations of this man, on +some tortuous means which his brain would surely evolve if she held out +a sufficiently tempting bait to him. She had half endowed him with +supernatural powers . . . and now . . . an empty scheme to make an +appeal to that heartless coward, who might save Wessex, yet refused to +do it!</p> + +<p>But the Cardinal was smiling: he looked a rare picture of benevolence +and dignity, with those white hands of his which seemed ever ready for a +caress. He looked triumphant too, his eyes were eagerly fixed upon her +as if her consent to the useless interview was of great and supreme +moment. To her the appeal to Ursula did not even seem to be a last +straw, but something far more ephemeral, intangible, a breath from some +mocking demon. Yet the Cardinal looked so satisfied. She shrugged her +shoulders again, as if dismissing all hope, all responsibility, all +interest, but she said nevertheless—</p> + +<p>"When does Your Eminence desire to see her?"</p> + +<p>"To-morrow in the Lord Chancellor's Court," he replied, "half an hour +before the arrival of the Lord High Steward. Can that be done?"</p> + +<p>"It shall be, since Your Eminence wishes it."</p> + +<p>"And to-night I will announce the joyful news by special messenger to +the King of Spain," he added significantly.</p> + +<p>"Is Your Eminence so sure of success then?"</p> + +<p>"As sure as I am of the fact that the Queen of England is the most +gracious lady in Europe," he replied, with all the courtly grace which +he knew so well how to assume. "I pray you then to trust in God," he +concluded earnestly, "and in the devotion of Your Majesty's humble +servant."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_251" id="Page_251">[Pg 251]</a></span>He took his leave ceremoniously, with pompous dignity, as was his wont. +She did not care to prolong the interview, and nodded listlessly when he +prepared to go. She felt more than ever hopeless and angered with +herself for having clinched a bargain with that man.</p> + +<p>But His Eminence the Cardinal de Moreno left the presence of the Queen +of England with a smile of satisfaction and a sigh of anticipated +triumph.</p> + +<p>It was not an appeal which he meant to address to the Lady Ursula +Glynde.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_252" id="Page_252">[Pg 252]</a></span></p> + +<h2 class="newchapter"><a name="CHAPTER_XXXIII" id="CHAPTER_XXXIII"></a>CHAPTER XXXIII<br /> +<span class="smalltext">IN THE LORD CHANCELLOR'S COURT</span></h2> + + +<p>The great Hall at Westminster was already thronged with people at an +early hour of the morning, and the servants of the Knight Marshal and +the Lord Warden of the Fleet had much ado to keep the crowd back with +their tipstaves.</p> + +<p>All London was taking a holiday to-day: an enforced holiday as far as +the workers and merchants were concerned, for there surely would be no +business doing in the City when such great goings-on were occurring at +Westminster.</p> + +<p>The trial of His Grace the Duke of Wessex on a charge of murder! A trial +which, seeing that the accused had confessed to the crime, could but end +in a sentence of death.</p> + +<p>It is not every day that it is given to humbler folk to see so proud a +gentleman arraigned as any common vagabond might be, and to note how a +great nobleman may look when threatened with the hangman's rope.</p> + +<p>Is there aught in the world half so cruel as a crowd?</p> + +<p>And His Grace had been very popular: always looked upon, even by the +meanest in the land, as the most perfect embodiment of English pride and +English grandeur, he had always had withal that certain graciousness of +manner which the populace will love, and which disarms envy.</p> + +<p>But with the exception of his own friends, people of his own rank and +station, who knew him and his character intimately, the people at large +never for a moment questioned his guilt.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_253" id="Page_253">[Pg 253]</a></span>He had confessed! surely that was enough! The loutish brains of the +lower proletariat did not care to go beyond that obvious self-evident +fact. The meaner the nature of a man, the more ready is he to +acknowledge evil, he seeks it out, recognizes it under every garb. Who, +among the majority of people, cared to seek for sublime self-sacrifice +in an ordinary confession of crime?</p> + +<p>The wiseacres and learned men, the more wealthy burgesses, and people of +more consideration, were content with a few philosophical reflections +anent the instability of human nature and the evil influences of Court +life and of great wealth.</p> + +<p>No one cared about the man! it was the pageant they all liked. What +thought had the mob of the agonizing rack to which a proud soul would +necessarily be subjected during the course of a wearisome and elaborate +trial? They only wanted to see a show, the robes of the judges, the +assembly of peers, and that one central figure, the first gentleman in +England, once almost a king—now a felon!</p> + +<p>A fine sight, my masters! His Grace of Wessex in a criminal dock!</p> + +<p>Places in the Hall were at a premium. The 'prentices were well to the +fore as usual; like so many eel-like creatures, they had slipped into +the front rank as soon as the great doors had been opened. Some few +waifs and vagrants—acute and greedy of gain—were making good trade +with small wooden benches, which they sold at threepence the piece to +those who desired a better view.</p> + +<p>The women were all wearing becoming gowns, sombre of hue as befitted the +occasion. His Grace of Wessex was noted for his avowed admiration for +the beautiful sex. They had all brought large white kerchiefs, for they +anticipated some exquisite emotions. His Grace was so handsome! there +was sure to be an occasion for tears.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_254" id="Page_254">[Pg 254]</a></span>But only as a pleasurable sentiment! Like one feels at the play, where +the actor expresses feelings, yet is himself cold and unimpassioned. +What His Grace himself would feel was never considered. The crowd had +come to see, some had paid threepence for a clearer sight of the +accused, and all meant to enjoy themselves this day.</p> + +<p>Proud Wessex! thou hast sunk to this, a spectacle for a common holiday! +Thy face will be scanned lest one twitch escape! thy shoulders if they +stoop, thy neck if it bend! A thousand eyes will be fixed upon thee in +curiosity, in derision—perchance in pity!</p> + +<p>Ye gods, what a fall!</p> + +<p>The Lord High Steward of England was expected to arrive at ten o'clock. +In the centre of the great court a large scaffold had been erected, not +far from the Lord Chancellor's Court. In the middle of this there was +placed a chair higher than the rest and covered with a cloth, which bore +the royal arms embroidered at the four corners.</p> + +<p>This was for my Lord High Steward.</p> + +<p>Each side of him were the seats for the peers who were to be the triers. +Great names were whispered, as the servants of the Knight Marshal +arranged these in their respective places. There was the chair for the +Earl of Kent, and my lord of Sussex, the Earl of Hertford, and Lord +Saint John of Basing, and a score of others, for there were twenty-four +triers in all.</p> + +<p>On a lower form were the seats for the judges, and in a hollow place cut +in the scaffold itself, and immediately at the feet of my Lord High +Steward, the Clerk of the Crown would sit with his secondary.</p> + +<p>And facing the judges and the peers was the bar, where presently the +exalted prisoner would stand.</p> + +<p>No one was here yet of the greater personages, the servants were still +busy putting everything to right, but<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_255" id="Page_255">[Pg 255]</a></span> some gentlemen of the Queen's +household had already arrived, and several noble lords who would be mere +spectators. His Grace's friends could easily be distinguished by the +sombreness of their garb and the air of grief upon their faces. Mr. +Thomas Norton, the Queen's printer, was sorting his papers and cutting +his pens, and two gentlemen ushers were receiving final instructions +from Garter King-at-Arms.</p> + +<p>There was indeed plenty for the idlers to see. Great ropes had been +drawn across the further portions of the Hall, leaving a wide passage +from the main entrance right down the centre and up to the Lord High +Steward's seat. Behind these ropes the crowd was forcibly kept back. And +the gossip and the noise went on apace. Laughter too and merry jests, +for this was a holiday, my masters, presently to be brought to a +close—after the death sentence had been passed and every one +dispersed—with lively jousts and copious sacks of ale.</p> + +<p>But of all this excitement and bustle not a sound penetrated within the +precincts of the Lord Chancellor's Court, where His Eminence the +Cardinal de Moreno sat patiently waiting.</p> + +<p>Desirous above all things of escaping observation, he had driven over +from Hampton Court in the early dawn, and wrapped in a flowing black +cloak, which effectually hid his purple robes, he had slipped into the +Hall and thence into the Inner Court, even before the crowd had begun to +collect. Since then he had sat here quietly buried in thoughts, calmly +looking forward to the interview, which was destined finally to unravel +the tangled skein of his own diplomacy. Once more the destinies of +Europe were hanging on a thread: a girl's love for a man.</p> + +<p>Well! so be it! His Eminence loved these palpitating situations, these +hairbreadth escapes from perilous positions which were the wine and salt +of his existence.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_256" id="Page_256">[Pg 256]</a></span> He was ready to stake his whole future career upon a +woman's love! He, who had scoffed all his life at sentimental passions, +who had used every emotion of the human heart, aye! and its every +suffering, merely as so many assets in the account of his far-reaching +policy, he now saw his whole future depending on the strength of a +girl's feelings.</p> + +<p>That she would certainly come, he never for a moment held in doubt. In +these days the commands of a sovereign were akin to the dictates of God; +to disobey was a matter of treason. Aye! she would come, sure enough! +not only because of her allegiance to the Queen, but because of her +intense, vital interest in the great trial of the day.</p> + +<p>So His Eminence waited patiently in the Lord Chancellor's Court, which +gave straight into the great Hall itself, until the appointed time.</p> + +<p>Exactly at half-past nine the door of the room was opened, and Ursula +Glynde walked in. The Cardinal rose from his seat and would have +approached her, but she retreated a step or two as he came near and said +coldly—</p> + +<p>"'Tis Your Eminence who desired my presence?"</p> + +<p>"And 'tis well that you came, my daughter," he replied kindly.</p> + +<p>"I was commanded by Her Majesty to attend; I had not come of my own free +will."</p> + +<p>She spoke quietly but very stiffly, as one who is merely performing a +social duty, without either pleasure or dislike. The Cardinal studied +her face keenly, but obviously she had been told nothing by the Queen as +to the precise object of this interview.</p> + +<p>She looked pale and wan: there was a look of acute suffering round the +childlike mouth, which would have seemed pathetic to any one save to +this callous dissector of human hearts. Her eyes appeared unnaturally +large, with great dilated pupils and dry eyelids. She was dressed in +deep black, with a thick veil over her golden hair, which<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_257" id="Page_257">[Pg 257]</a></span> gave her a +nunlike appearance, and altogether made her look older, and strangely +different from the gay and girlish figure so full of life and animation +which had been one of the brightest ornaments of old Hampton Court +Palace. The Cardinal motioned her to a seat, which she took, then she +waited with perfect composure until His Eminence chose to speak.</p> + +<p>"My child," he said at last, bringing his voice down to tones of the +greatest gentleness, "I would wish you to remember that it is an old man +who speaks to you: one who has seen much of the world, learnt much, +understood much. Will you try and trust him?"</p> + +<p>"What does Your Eminence desire of me?" she rejoined coldly.</p> + +<p>"Nay! 'tis not a question of desire, my daughter, I would merely wish to +give you some advice."</p> + +<p>"I am listening to Your Eminence."</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 330px;"> +<img src="images/image-3.jpg" width="330" height="500" alt=""I am listening to Your Eminence."" title="" /> +</div> +<p class="caption">"I am listening to Your Eminence."</p> + +<p>The Cardinal had taken the precaution of placing himself with his back +to the light which entered, grey and mournful, through the tall leaded +window above. He was sitting near a table covered with writing +materials, and in a large high-backed tapestried chair, which further +enhanced the ponderous dignity of his appearance, whilst helping to +envelop his face in complete shadow. Ursula sat opposite to him on a low +stool, that same grey light falling full upon her pale face, which was +turned serenely, quite impassively upon her interlocutor.</p> + +<p>His Eminence rested his elbow on the arm of his chair and his head in +his delicate white hands. The purple robes fell round him in majestic +folds, the gold crucifix at his breast sparkled with jewels: he was a +past master in the art of <i>mise-en-scène</i>, and knew the full value of +impressive pauses and of effective attitudes during a momentous +conversation, more especially when he had to deal with a woman. His +present silence helped to set the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_258" id="Page_258">[Pg 258]</a></span> young girl's aching nerves on edge, +and he noticed with a sense of inward satisfaction that her composure +was not as profound as she would have him think: there was a distinct +tremor in the delicate nostrils, a jerkiness in the movements of her +hand, as she smoothed out the folds of her sombre gown.</p> + +<p>"My dear child," he began once more, and this time in tones of more +pronounced severity, "a brave man, a good and chivalrous gentleman, is +about to suffer not only death, but horrible disgrace. . . . On the +other side of these thin walls the preparations are ready for his trial +by a group of men, whose duty it will be anon to allow the justice of +this realm to take its relentless course. The accused will stand +self-convicted, yet innocent, before them."</p> + +<p>Once more the Cardinal paused: only for a second this time. He noticed +that the young girl had visibly shuddered, but she made no attempt to +speak.</p> + +<p>"Innocent, I repeat it," he resumed after a while. "His Grace has many +friends; not one of them will believe that he could be capable of so +foul a crime. But he has confessed to it. He will be condemned, and +he—the proudest man in England—will die a felon's death. . . ."</p> + +<p>"I knew all that, Your Eminence," she said quietly. "Why should you +repeat it now?"</p> + +<p>"Only because . . ." said the Cardinal with seeming hesitation, "you +must forgive an old man, my child . . . methought you loved His Grace of +Wessex and . . ."</p> + +<p>"Why does Your Eminence pause?" she rejoined. "You thought that I loved +His Grace of Wessex . . . and . . . ?"</p> + +<p>"And yet, my child, through a strange, nay, a culpable obstinacy, you, +who could save him not only from death, but also from dishonour, you +remain silent!"</p> + +<p>"Your Eminence errs, as every one else has erred,"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_259" id="Page_259">[Pg 259]</a></span> she replied with the +same cold placidity; "I am silent because I have naught to say."</p> + +<p>The Cardinal smiled with kind indulgence, like a father who understands +and forgives the sins of his child.</p> + +<p>"Let us explain, my daughter," he said. "That fatal night, when the +Marquis de Suarez was killed, a woman was seen to fly from that part of +the Palace where the tragedy had just taken place. . . ."</p> + +<p>"Well?"</p> + +<p>"Do you not see that if that woman came forward fearlessly and owned the +truth, that it was from jealousy or even to defend her honour that His +Grace killed Don Miguel, do you not see that no judge then will find him +guilty of a wilful and premeditated crime?"</p> + +<p>"Then why does not that woman come forward?" she retorted with the first +sign of vehemence, noticeable in the quiver of her voice and the sudden +flash in her pale cheeks, "why does she not speak? she for whose sake +His Grace of Wessex not only took a man's life but is willing to +sacrifice his honour?"</p> + +<p>"She seems to have disappeared," said His Eminence softly, "perhaps she +is dead. . . . Some say it was you," he added, leaning slightly forward +and dropping his voice to a whisper.</p> + +<p>"They lie," she replied. "I was not there. 'Tis not for me His Grace of +Wessex will suffer both death and disgrace in silence."</p> + +<p>This time His Eminence did not smile. There had been a sudden flash in +his eyes at this quick, sharp retort—a sudden flash as suddenly veiled +again. Then his heavy lids drooped; once more he looked paternal, +benevolent, only just with a soupçon of sternness in his impassive face, +the aloofness of an austere man towards the weaknesses of more mundane +creatures.</p> + +<p>Never for a moment did he reveal to the unwary young<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_260" id="Page_260">[Pg 260]</a></span> girl all that he +had guessed through her last unguarded speech.</p> + +<p>Her love for Wessex! that he knew already! Its depth alone was a +revelation to him. But her jealousy! How her lips had trembled and her +hand twitched when speaking of another, an unknown woman who had called +forth in Wessex that spirit of noble self-sacrifice, that immolation of +his own honour and dignity, which had finally landed him in a criminal +dock.</p> + +<p>A woman's passion and a woman's jealousy! Two precious assets in His +Eminence's present balance. He pondered over what he had learned, and +victory loomed more certain than before. He loved this present +situation, the acute tension of this palpitating moment, when he seemed +to hold this beautiful woman's soul, bare and fettered, writhing with +agony and self-torture.</p> + +<p>To dissect a human heart! to watch its every quiver, to note the effect +of every searing iron applied with a skilful hand! then to achieve +success in the end through subtle arts and devices seemingly so full of +benevolence, yet instinct with the most refined, most far-reaching +cruelty! This was the form of enjoyment which more than any other +appealed to the jaded mind of this blasé diplomatist. The feline nature +within him loved this game with the trembling mouse.</p> + +<p>But outwardly he sighed, a deep sigh of disappointment.</p> + +<p>"Ah! if they lie!" he said, a gentle tone of melancholy pervading his +entire attitude, "if indeed it was not you, my daughter, who were with +Don Miguel that night . . . then naught can save His Grace. . . . He has +suffered in silence. . . . He will die to-morrow in silence . . . and +innocent."</p> + +<p>He had risen from his chair, and began wandering about the narrow +room—aimlessly—as if lost in thought. Ursula was staring straight +before her. The first revela<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_261" id="Page_261">[Pg 261]</a></span>tion of her present danger had suddenly +come to her. As in a flash she had suddenly realized that this man had +sent for her in order to use her for his own ends. She felt that she was +literally in the position of the mouse about to be sacrificed to the +greedy ambition of this feline creature, who had neither rectitude nor +compunction where his ambition was at stake.</p> + +<p>Yet after that one betrayal of her emotions she had made a vigorous +effort to regain her self-control. Every instinct of self-preservation +was on the alert now, and yet she knew already that she was bound to +succumb. To what she could not guess, but she felt herself the weaker +vessel of the two. He was calm and cruel, passionless and tortuous, +whilst she <i>felt</i> with all her heart and soul and with all her senses.</p> + +<p>And though he could not now see her face the Cardinal studied her every +movement. He could see her figure stiffen with the iron determination to +retain her self-possession, and inwardly he smiled, for he knew that the +next moment all that rigidity would vanish, the marble statue would +become living clay, the palsied nerves would quiver with horror, and she +herself would fall, a weeping, wailing creature, supplicating at his +feet.</p> + +<p>And this by such a simple method!</p> + +<p>Just the opening of a door! gently, noiselessly, until the sound from +the Great Hall entered into this inner room, and voices clearly detached +themselves from the confusing hubbub.</p> + +<p>Then His Eminence whispered, "Hush, my daughter! listen! my Lord High +Steward is speaking."</p> + +<p>At first perhaps she did not hear, certainly she did not understand, for +her attitude did not relax its uncompromising stiffness.</p> + +<p>Lord Chandois was delivering his first speech.</p> + +<p>"My lords and gentlemen," he said, "ye are here<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_262" id="Page_262">[Pg 262]</a></span> assembled this day that +ye may try Robert d'Esclade, Duke of Wessex, for a grievous and heinous +crime, which he hath wilfully committed."</p> + +<p>It was just the opening and shutting of a door—the claw of the cat upon +the neck of the mouse. At first sound of Wessex' name Ursula had risen +to her feet, straight and rigid like a machine. She did not look towards +the door, but fixed her eyes on him—her tormentor—fascinated as a +bird, to whom a snake has beckoned and bade it to come nigh.</p> + +<p>The colour rose to her cheeks, the reality was gradually dawning upon +her. That man who spoke in the Great Hall beyond was a judge—there were +other judges there too. When she arrived at Westminster she had seen a +great concourse of people, heard the names of great legal dignitaries +whispered round her, and of peers who had been summoned for a great +occasion.</p> + +<p>That occasion was the trial of the Duke of Wessex on a charge of murder.</p> + +<p>"No, no, no," she whispered hoarsely, somewhat wildly, as she took a +step forward; "no, no, no . . . not yet . . . it is not true . . . not +yet——"</p> + +<p>The thin crust of ice which had enveloped her heart was melting in the +broad garish light of the actual, awful fact—the commencement of +Wessex' trial.</p> + +<p>She tottered and might have fallen but for the table close beside her, +against which she leant.</p> + +<p>Her calm and composure were flying from her bit by bit. She had at last +begun to understand—to realize. Up to now it had all been so shadowy, +so remote, almost like a dream. She had not seen Wessex since that last +happy moment when he had pressed her against his heart . . . since then +she had only heard rumours . . . wild statements . . . she knew of his +self-accusation—the terrible crime which had been committed—but her +heart<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_263" id="Page_263">[Pg 263]</a></span> had been numbed through the very appalling nature of the +catastrophe following so closely upon her budding happiness . . . it had +all been intangible all this while . . . whilst now . . .</p> + +<p>"The Duke hath made confession," said the Cardinal, and his voice seemed +to come as if in direct answer to her thoughts. "In an hour at most +judgment will be pronounced against him, and then sentence of death."</p> + +<p>She passed her hand across her moist forehead, trying to collect her +scattered senses. She looked once or twice at him in helpless, appealing +misery, but his face now was stern and implacable, he seemed to her to +be the presentment of a relentless justice about to fall on an innocent +man. Her throat felt parched, her lips were dry, yet she tried to speak.</p> + +<p>"It cannot be . . ." she repeated mechanically, "it cannot be . . . no, +no, my lord, you are powerful . . . you are great and clever . . . you +will find a means to save him . . . you will . . . you will . . . you +sent for me. . . . Oh! was it in order to torture me like this that you +sent for me?"</p> + +<p>"My child. . . ."</p> + +<p>"That woman?" she continued wildly, not heeding him, "that woman . . . +where is she? . . . find her, my lord . . . find her, and let me speak +to her. . . . Oh! I'll find the right words to melt her heart . . . she +must speak . . . she must tell the truth . . . she cannot let him die +. . . no, no . . . not like that. . . ."</p> + +<p>Gone was all her pride, all her icy reserve, even jealousy had vanished +before the awful inevitableness of his dishonour and his death. She +would have dragged herself at the feet of those judges who were about to +condemn him, of this man who was taking a cruel delight in torturing +her; nay! she would have knelt and kissed the hands of that unknown +rival, for whose sake she had<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_264" id="Page_264">[Pg 264]</a></span> endured the terrible mental tortures of +the past few days, if only she could wrench from her the truth which +would set <i>him</i> free from all this disgrace.</p> + +<p>"That woman!" she repeated with agonizing passion, "that woman . . . +where is she? . . ."</p> + +<p>"She stands now before me," said the Cardinal sternly, "repentant, I +hope, ready to speak the truth."</p> + +<p>"No! no! it is false!" she protested vehemently, "false I tell you! It +was not I . . ."</p> + +<p>Her voice broke in a pitiable, wistful sob, which would have melted a +heart less stony than that which beat in the Cardinal's ambitious +breast.</p> + +<p>"Oh! have I not endured enough?" she murmured half to herself, half in +appealing misery to him. "Jealousy—hate for that woman whom he loves as +he never hath loved me . . . whom he loves better than his honour . . . +for whose sake he will stand there anon, branded with infamy. . . ."</p> + +<p>Her knees gave way under her, she fell half prostrate on the floor at +the very feet of her tormentor.</p> + +<p>"Find her, my lord," she sobbed passionately, "find her . . . you can +. . . you can. . . ."</p> + +<p>But for sole answer he once more pushed the door ajar.</p> + +<p>Another voice came from the body of the hall now, that of Mr. Barham, +the Queen's Serjeant—</p> + +<p>"And having proved Robert d'Esclade, Duke of Wessex, guilty of this most +heinous murder, I, on behalf of the Crown, will presently ask you, my +lord, to pass sentence of death upon him."</p> + +<p>"No, no, no—not death!" she moaned, "not death. . . . They are mad, my +lord—are they not mad? . . . He guilty of murder! Oh! will no one come +forward to prove him innocent?"</p> + +<p>"No one can do that but you, my daughter," replied His Eminence sternly, +as he once more closed the door.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_265" id="Page_265">[Pg 265]</a></span>"But you do not understand. In God's name, what would you have me do? I +loved him, it is true, but . . . it was another woman . . . not I! +another woman, whose honour is dearer to him than his own . . . for +whose sake he killed . . . for whose sake he is silent . . . for whose +sake he will die . . . but that woman was not I . . . not I!"</p> + +<p>"Alas!" he replied placidly, "then indeed nothing can save His Grace +from the block. . . ."</p> + +<p>He sighed and returned to his former place beside the table, like a man +who has done all that duty demanded of him, and now is weary and ready +to let destiny take its course.</p> + +<p>Ursula watched him dully, stupidly; she could not read just then what +went on behind that mask of suave benevolence. Could she have read the +Cardinal's innermost thoughts she would have seen that complete +satisfaction filled his ambitious heart. He knew that he had succeeded, +it was but a question of time . . . a few minutes, perhaps; but he had a +good quarter of an hour to spare, in which the tortured soul before him +would fight its last fight with despair. There was the long arraignment +to be read out by the Clerk of the Crown, then the names of the triers +to be called out in their order—all that, before the prisoner was +actually called to the bar. Oh yes! he had plenty of time, now that he +was sure of victory.</p> + +<p>The girl wandered mechanically towards the door, her trembling hand +sought the latch, but was too weak to turn it. She glued her ear to the +lock and perchance heard a word or two, for even the Cardinal caught the +sound of a loud voice reading the deadly indictment.</p> + +<p>"The prisoner hath confessed . . .</p> + +<p>"This most heinous crime . . .</p> + +<p>"For which sentence of death <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_266" id="Page_266">[Pg 266]</a></span>. . .</p> + +<p>"Return his precept and bring forth the prisoner."</p> + +<p>Ursula straightened out her girlish figure; with a firm hand now she +smoothed her veil over her hair, and rearranged the disordered folds of +her kerchief. She crossed the room with an unfaltering step, and once +more took a seat on the low stool opposite to His Eminence the Cardinal.</p> + +<p>She seemed to have reassumed the same icy calm which she had worn +earlier in the interview; she was quite pale again, and all traces of +tears had disappeared from her eyes.</p> + +<p>Quite instinctively, certainly against his will, the Cardinal failed to +return the steady gaze which she now fixed upon him. As she sat there +close to him, her great lustrous eyes trying to search his very soul, he +knew that at last she had guessed.</p> + +<p>She <i>knew</i> that he was fully aware of the fact that she was not the +woman for whose sake the Duke of Wessex was suffering condemnation at +this very moment. All the meshes of the base intrigue which had landed +the man she loved in a felon's dock escaped her utterly, but this much +she realized, that the Cardinal had worked for the Duke's undoing, that +he knew who her rival was, that he was wilfully shielding that woman, +whilst callously sacrificing her—Ursula Glynde—to the success of some +further scheme.</p> + +<p>She knew all that, yet she did not hesitate. Her love for Wessex had +filled all her life—first as a child, then as an ignorant girl +worshipping an ideal. When she saw him, and in him saw the embodiment of +all her most romantic beliefs, she loved him with all the passionate +ardour of her newly awakened woman's heart. From the moment that his +touch had thrilled her, that his voice had set her temples throbbing, +that her pure lips had met his own, she had given him her whole love,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_267" id="Page_267">[Pg 267]</a></span> +given herself to him body and soul for his happiness and her own.</p> + +<p>So great was her love that jealousy had not killed it; it had changed +her joy into sorrow, her happiness into bitterness, but the heart which +she gave to him she was powerless to take away. He had fooled her, led +her to believe in his love for her, but his life was as precious to her +now as it had been that afternoon—which seemed so long ago—when she +first raised her eyes to his and met his ardent gaze.</p> + +<p>She was face to face with the most cruel problem ever set before a human +heart, for she firmly believed that if through her self-sacrifice she +saved him from death and dishonour, he would nevertheless inevitably +turn to the other woman, for whose sake he was suffering now; yet she +was ready with the sacrifice, because of the selflessness of her love.</p> + +<p>How well the Cardinal had managed the tragedy which had parted two noble +hearts! Each believed the other treacherous and guilty, yet each was +prepared to lay down life, honour, happiness for the sake of the loved +one.</p> + +<p>"Your Eminence," said Ursula very quietly after a little while, "you +said just now that I could save His Grace of Wessex from unmerited +disgrace and death. Tell me now, what must I do?"</p> + +<p>"It is simple enough, my daughter," he replied, still avoiding her +clear, steadfast gaze; "you have but to speak the truth."</p> + +<p>"The truth, they say, oft lies hidden in a well, my lord," she rejoined. +"I pray Your Eminence to guide me to its depths."</p> + +<p>"I can but guide your memory, my daughter, to the events of the fateful +night when Don Miguel was murdered."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_268" id="Page_268">[Pg 268]</a></span>"Yes?"</p> + +<p>"You were there, in the Audience Chamber, were you not?"</p> + +<p>"I was there," she repeated mechanically.</p> + +<p>"With Don Miguel de Suarez, who, taking advantage of the late hour and +the loneliness of this part of the Palace . . . insulted you . . . or +. . ."</p> + +<p>"Let us say that he insulted me. . . ."</p> + +<p>"His Grace then came upon the scene?"</p> + +<p>"Just as Your Eminence describes it."</p> + +<p>"And 'twas to defend your honour that the Duke of Wessex killed Don +Miguel."</p> + +<p>"To defend mine honour the Duke of Wessex killed Don Miguel."</p> + +<p>"This you will swear to be true?"</p> + +<p>"Without hope of absolution."</p> + +<p>"And you will make this tardy confession, my daughter, to His Grace's +judges freely?"</p> + +<p>"Whenever it is deemed necessary I will make the confession to His +Grace's judges freely."</p> + +<p>She swayed as if her senses were leaving her. Instinctively the Cardinal +put out his arm to support her, but with a mighty effort she drew +herself together, and looked down upon him with all the regal majesty of +her own sublime self-sacrifice.</p> + +<p>But, flushed with victory, His Eminence cared nothing for the contempt +of the vanquished. It had been a hard-fought battle. His Grace was saved +from death and Queen Mary Tudor could not help but keep her word. It was +a triumph indeed!</p> + +<p>He touched a hand-bell, a servant appeared. A few whispered instructions +and the end was accomplished at last.</p> + +<p>But, God in Heaven, at what terrible cost!</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_269" id="Page_269">[Pg 269]</a></span></p> + +<h2 class="newchapter"><a name="CHAPTER_XXXIV" id="CHAPTER_XXXIV"></a>CHAPTER XXXIV<br /> +<span class="smalltext">WESTMINSTER HALL</span></h2> + + +<p>A surging, seething crowd! heads upon heads in a dense, compact mass—a +double row of men, women, boys, and girls, held back with difficulty by +the Serjeant-at-Arms and his men, armed with halberds and tipstaves!</p> + +<p>A crowd come to gape and grin, some to sympathize—but only a very few +of these. All come to see how the proudest gentleman in England would +bear himself in a felon's dock.</p> + +<p>The dull grey light of an early November day came in ghostly streaks +through the huge window of the Hall, throwing into bold relief the +scarlet-clad figures of the twenty-four noble lords who were to be the +Duke's triers, the gorgeous robes of the judges, and the dull black +gowns of the attorneys and the minor dignitaries.</p> + +<p>Quick, excited whispers passed from mouth to mouth as now and then a +familiar face detached itself from the crowd of all these awesome +personages and was recognized by the people.</p> + +<p>"That's my lord Huntingdon," said an elderly merchant, pointing to a +grey-bearded lord who had just taken his seat. "I mind him well when +first he bought a pair of spurs in my father's shop."</p> + +<p>"Aye! and there's Lord Northampton," commented another, "and mightily +thankful he should be not to be standing at the bar himself for high +treason."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_270" id="Page_270">[Pg 270]</a></span>"That's Mr. Gilbert Gerard, the Attorney-General," quoth one who knew.</p> + +<p>"Sh! sh! sh!" came in excited whispers all around, "here comes the Lord +High Steward himself and all the judges."</p> + +<p>The procession awed the populace, for every new-comer—gorgeously +apparelled though he was—wore a grave face and a saddened mien. The +crowd, who had come for a day's pageant, a frolic not unlike the happy +doings at East Molesey Fair, felt suddenly silenced and oppressed. Some +of the women shivered beneath their thin kerchiefs; the devout ones made +a quick sign of the cross, as if prayers were about to begin.</p> + +<p>It was all so solemn and so grand, in this dim winter's light, wherein +shadows seemed to hover all around, hiding the remote corners of the +Hall and dwelling mysteriously on that tall scaffold, whereon one by one +these reverend personages took their allotted seats.</p> + +<p>The Queen's Serjeant carried the white rod, and escorted my Lord High +Steward to the great chair, covered with a gorgeous cloth, which +dominated the entire hall. To the right and left of him sat the +twenty-four peers with their ermine-decked cloaks over their shoulders.</p> + +<p>Below them sat the Lord Chief Justice of England, the Lord Chief Justice +of Common Pleas, and the Lord Chief Baron of the Exchequer, and also the +rest of the minor judges. The Clerk of the Crown, in black gown and +yellow hose, had been busy some time conversing with his secondary. Next +to the judges sat several gentlemen of the Queen's household, their +silken doublets of rich though sombre hues adding a crisp note of +contrasting colour to the harmonies in scarlet and dull oak, which +filled in the background of the picture.</p> + +<p>Sir Walter Mildmay, Chancellor of the Exchequer,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_271" id="Page_271">[Pg 271]</a></span> sat close by with six +of the Queen's Privy Councillors, also on their left the Master of +Requests and other persons of note. Immediately facing the bar was the +Queen's Serjeant, the Attorney-General, the Solicitor-General, and the +Attorney-General of the Court of Wards. The Recorder of London had been +given a special seat, also Mr. Thomas Norton, the Queen's printer, who +wrote out the historical account of the trial, which has been preserved +amongst the State papers.</p> + +<p>Then my Lord High Steward stood up bareheaded, holding the white rod in +his hand, and the Serjeant-at-Arms stepped forward into the immediate +centre of the Hall facing the crowd, and read out the proclamation as +follows:—</p> + +<p>"My Lord's Grace, the Queen's Majesty's Commissioner, High Steward of +England, commandeth every man to keep silence on pain of imprisonment +and to hear the Queen's Commission read."</p> + +<p>This was followed by the reading of the Queen's Commission by the Clerk +of the Crown, after which—still standing—he read the indictment in a +loud voice, so that all might hear.</p> + +<p>"Whereas Robert d'Esclade, fifth Duke of Wessex, did on the night of the +fourteenth of October of this year of our Lord one thousand five hundred +and fifty-three, unlawfully kill Don Miguel, Marquis de Suarez, grandee +of Spain . . ."</p> + +<p>The voice of the Clerk went droning on, the people amazed, horrified, +tried not to lose one single word of this strange document which so +loudly proclaimed the fact that a dastardly crime, unparalleled in its +cowardice and ferocity, had been committed by one who until now had +stood above all Englishmen as a model of honour, loyalty, and truth.</p> + +<p>With every fresh charge, skilfully woven together and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_272" id="Page_272">[Pg 272]</a></span> intertwined with +sundry depositions obtained from my lord Cardinal and his retinue, the +crowd of spectators realized more and more that they were face to face +with a weird and mysterious tragedy, not a pageant, but an appalling +drama, the prologue of which was being enacted before them now.</p> + +<p>It seemed, as the Clerk pursued his reading, that he was slowly +unfolding mesh by mesh a hideous web, in the midst of which the presence +of a death-dealing and loathsome spider could as yet only be dimly +guessed.</p> + +<p>A close, clinging web from which no man, be he the premier peer of +England or the humblest commoner, could ever hope to escape.</p> + +<p>The web of a rough and misguided justice, of a law of the talion, +retributive and blind, distributing with an impartial hand condemnations +and punishments to guilty and innocent alike, to the martyr and to the +felon, to the coward and the deceived.</p> + +<p>This was not a decadent, puny century, peopled with neurotics and +feeble-minded weaklings, it was a century of men!—men who were giants +alike in their virtues and their passions, their vices and their +atrocities, narrow in their views, but staunch in their beliefs, savage +in their creeds and prejudices—but <span class="smcap">MEN</span> for all that.</p> + +<p>"The more heinous the offence the less chance shall the prisoner have of +justifying his conduct." That was the dictate of the law.</p> + +<p>"For truly," said Sir Robert Catline, Lord Chief Justice of England, in +the course of the trial of Sir Nicholas Throckmorton for high treason, +"justice must not be confused by sundry arguments in the prisoner's +cause, which might lead to his acquittal and the non-punishment of so +grave a fault."</p> + +<p>Witnesses were seldom, if ever, examined in the presence of the accused. +Depositions were extorted—often<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_273" id="Page_273">[Pg 273]</a></span> by torture, always by threats—from +persons who happened to be friends or associates of the prisoner.</p> + +<p>An acquittal?—perish the thought! Let the citizen look to himself ere +he fell in the clutches of his country's justice; once there he had +little or no chance of proving his innocence.</p> + +<p>Lest the guilty escape!</p> + +<p>Always that awful possibility! Rough justice demanded punishment—always +punishment—lest the guilty escape!</p> + +<p>And the people as they listened knew that they had come to see a man's +last day upon earth.</p> + +<p>Proud, rich, fastidious Wessex! this is the end of all things! Pomp and +ceremony, gorgeous robes and costly apparels! these to speed thee on thy +way; but as inevitably as the dull winter's night must follow this grey +November morning, so will pomp and circumstance fade away into the past +and leave thee with but one red-clad figure by thy side—that of the +headsman with the axe.</p> + +<p>Justice to-day could make short work of her duties.</p> + +<p>Robert d'Esclade, fifth Duke of Wessex, had confessed to his crime, why +should Justice trouble herself to prove that which was already admitted? +She had merely to think out the form and severity of the punishment for +this man of high degree, who had sunk and stooped so low.</p> + +<p>For form's sake a few depositions had been taken, for this was an +unusual event—a specially atrocious crime! the murder of a foreign +envoy at the Court of the Queen of England, and at the hand of the +premier peer of the realm!</p> + +<p>The Cardinal de Moreno, envoy in chief of His Majesty the King of Spain, +had given the matter a political significance. In the name of his royal +master he had demanded judgment on that most monstrous felony,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_274" id="Page_274">[Pg 274]</a></span> and the +exercise of the full rigour of the law. The Duke of Wessex had been a +rival suitor for the hand of the Queen of England, and he +had—presumably—wilfully removed a successful diplomatist who +threatened to thwart his projects.</p> + +<p>And thus Wessex was arraigned for treason as well as for murder, and the +indictment set forth the depositions of my lord Cardinal and those of +his servant Pasquale, all of which His Grace had declined to peruse. He +knew that these statements were lies, guessed well enough how his +enemies would heap proof upon proof to bolster up his own brief +confession.</p> + +<p>His Eminence had made a sworn statement that he heard angry voices +'twixt Don Miguel and His Grace some little time before the Marquis was +found dead. Well, that was true enough! There <i>had</i> been a deadly +quarrel, and though this did not aggravate the case, it helped to +establish the facts, if public opinion was like to sway the judges or if +disbelief in Wessex' guilt was too firmly rooted in the minds of his +peers.</p> + +<p>The indictment was a masterpiece, well could the Solicitor-General pride +himself on the perfection of the document.</p> + +<p>A dull, oppressive silence had fallen upon this vast concourse of +people. Interest, which was at fever-pitch, had forcibly to be kept in +check, but now, as the Clerk's final words echoed feebly through the +vast hall, a great sigh of eager excitement rose from the entire +multitude.</p> + +<p>Everything so far had been but preliminary, the somewhat dull, lengthy +prologue of the coming palpitating drama. But at last the curtain was +about to rise on the first act, and the chief actor was ready to step +upon the stage.</p> + +<p>Already from afar loud murmurs and excited cries proclaimed the approach +of the prisoner.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_275" id="Page_275">[Pg 275]</a></span>"He hath arrived from the Tower," whispered the 'prentices to one +another.</p> + +<p>The distant murmurs grew in volume, then came nearer and nearer. All +necks were craned to see the Duke arrive, and even the repeated calls of +the Serjeant-at-Arms demanding silence were now left unheeded.</p> + +<p>Whispers passed from lip to ear. Comments and conjectures flew through +the crowd. Was not this the most interesting moment of this interesting +day?</p> + +<p>"How would he carry himself?"</p> + +<p>"How would he look?"</p> + +<p>"How doth a nobleman look when he becomes a felon?"</p> + +<p>"Silence! Here they come!"</p> + +<p>The Serjeant-at-Arms once more stood up before the people and loudly +read a proclamation, calling upon the Lieutenant of the Tower of London +to return his precept and bring forth his prisoner.</p> + +<p>This was responded to by a call of "Present!" from outside, followed by +a loud tumult. The next moment the great doors of the Hall were thrown +open, six armed men entered and walked straight up the centre aisle +towards the bar.</p> + +<p>Behind them appeared the Lieutenant of the Tower of London, with Lord +Rich, and between them was Robert d'Esclade, fifth Duke of Wessex, the +prisoner.</p> + +<p>Dressed all in black, he looked distinctly older than the crowd had +remembrance of him. A sigh of excited anticipation went all along the +line, a regular bousculade ensued; the people behind trying to catch a +nearer glimpse of the Duke and pushing those who were in front. The +'prentices, who were squatting in the foremost rank on the ground, were +violently jerked forward, some fell on their faces right up against the +Lieutenant and my lord Rich, seeing which and the general excited +confusion the Duke was observed to smile.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_276" id="Page_276">[Pg 276]</a></span>A woman in the crowd murmured—</p> + +<p>"The Lord bless his handsome face!"</p> + +<p>"Heaven ward Your Grace!" added another.</p> + +<p>The women's pity—and that only momentarily. And the awful publicity of +it all! Among the men wagers were offered and taken in his hearing as he +passed, whether sentence of death would be passed on him or not.</p> + +<p>"Will they hang him, think you?"</p> + +<p>"No, no, 'tis always the axe for noble lords; but they'll have him drawn +and quartered for sure."</p> + +<p>"God help Your Grace!" sighed the women.</p> + +<p>Indeed, if pride was a deadly sin, how deadly was its punishment now.</p> + +<p>The crowd was not hostile, only indifferent, curious, eager to see; and +every remark made by these stolid gapers must have cut the prisoner like +a blow.</p> + +<p>They watched him cross the entire length of the hall, commenting on his +appearance, his clothes, his past life, a coarse jest even came to his +ears now and again, a laugh of derision or an exclamation of satisfied +envy.</p> + +<p>Fallen Wessex indeed!</p> + +<p>He tried with all his might not to show what he felt, and evidently he +succeeded over well, for Mr. Thomas Norton, in his comments on the +trial, states placidly:—</p> + +<p>"The prisoner seemeth not to understand the gravity of his position and +careth naught for the heinousness of his crime. Truly this indifference +marketh a godless soul or else the supreme conceit of wealth and high +rank, he having many friends among his peers and being confident of an +acquittal."</p> + +<p>Lord Rich alone, who walked by the side of the Duke, and stood close to +him throughout the awful ordeal, has noted in his interesting memoirs +how deeply the accused was moved when he realized that he would have to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_277" id="Page_277">[Pg 277]</a></span> +stand at the bar on a raised dais, in full view of all the crowd.</p> + +<p>"Meseemed that his hand trembled when first he rested it on the bar," +adds his lordship in his chronicles. "He being passing tall he could be +seen by all and sundry, which was trying to his pride. But anon His +Grace caught my eye, and I doubt not but that he read therein all the +sympathy which I felt for him, for he then threw back his head and +scanned the crowd right fearlessly, and more like a king ready to read a +proclamation than a felon awaiting his trial. Then, as he looked all +around him, his eyes lighted on my lord the Cardinal de Moreno and on a +veiled female figure who sat close to the Spanish envoy. He then became +deathly pale, and I, fearing that he might swoon, caught him by the arm. +But he pressed my hand and thanked me, saying only that the heat of the +room was oppressive."</p> + +<p>It is evident that my lord Rich was a hot partisan of the accused. He +and the Lieutenant of the Tower stood close beside the Duke throughout +the trial, the Tower guard forming a semicircle round the bar, and the +Chamberlain of the Tower holding the axe with its edge from the prisoner +and towards Lord Rich.</p> + +<p>Mr. Thomas Norton tells us that at this point of the proceedings the +excitement was intense. Lord Chandois himself seemed unable to keep up +the rigid dignity of his office. The peers who were the triers were +eagerly whispering to one another. The Clerk seemed unable to clear his +throat before calling on the accused.</p> + +<p>The crowd too felt this acute tension. The people had already noticed +the veiled female figure, clad in sombre kirtle and black paniers, who +had entered the Hall a little while ago, accompanied by His Eminence the +Cardinal, and had since then sat, dull and rigid, beside him, seemingly +taking no notice of the proceedings. A hurried<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_668" id="Page_668">[Pg 668]</a></span> conversation carried on +in whispers between His Eminence and my lord High Steward had been noted +by everybody—yet no one dared to ask a question.</p> + +<p>It seemed as if an invisible presence had suddenly made itself felt, a +spirit from the land of shadows, that awesome precursor of death which +is called "Retribution," and that from his ghostly lips there had +fallen—unheard yet felt by every heart—the mighty dictate of an +almighty will: "Thou shalt do no murder!"</p> + +<p>Had the spirit really passed? Who can tell? But the soul of every man +and woman there was left quivering. There was not a hand that now did +not slightly tremble, not one lid that failed to move, for the supreme +moment had come for the accomplishment of an irreparable wrong.</p> + +<p>The spectators had before them the picture of that solemn Court, the +Lord High Steward with chain and sword of gold, the judges in their red +robes, the peers with their ermine, and here and there quaint patches +of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_669" id="Page_669">[Pg 669]</a></span> unexpected colour as the wintry sun struck full through the coloured +facets of the huge window beyond and alighted on a black gown or the +leather jerkins of the guard.</p> + +<p>They saw the halberds of the men-at-arms faintly gleaming in the wan, +grey light, the Cardinal's purple robes, a brilliant note amidst the +dull mass of browns and blacks; the blue doublet of Sir Henry +Beddingfield, a jarring bit of discord between the sable-hued garb of +the other gentlemen there.</p> + +<p>And there, amongst them all, the tall, erect figure, the one quiet, +impassive face in this surging sea of excitement—the prisoner at the +bar!</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_670" id="Page_670">[Pg 670]</a></span></p> + +<h2 class="newchapter"><a name="CHAPTER_XXXV" id="CHAPTER_XXXV"></a>CHAPTER XXXV<br /> +<span class="smalltext">THE TRIAL</span></h2> + + +<p>The excitement, great as it was, had perforce to be kept in check.</p> + +<p>The Clerk of the Crown had collected his papers: he now stood up and +called upon the accused:</p> + +<p>"Robert, Duke of Wessex and of Dorchester, Earl of Launceston, Wexford +and Bridthorpe, Baron of Greystone, Ullesthorpe and Edbrooke, Premier +Peer of England, hold up thy right hand."</p> + +<p>The prisoner having done so, Mr. Barham, the Queen's Sergeant, opened +the contents of the indictment.</p> + +<p>"Whereas it is said that on the fourteenth day of October thou didst +unlawfully kill Don Miguel, Marquis de Suarez, grandee of Spain and +envoy extraordinary of His Most Catholic Majesty the King of Spain, thou +art therefore to make answer to this charge of murder. I therefore +charge thee once again: art thou guilty of this crime, whereof thou art +indicted, yea or nay?"</p> + +<p>"I am guilty," replied Wessex firmly, "and I have confessed."</p> + +<p>"By whom wilt thou be tried?"</p> + +<p>"By God and by my peers."</p> + +<p>"Before we proceed," continued the Sergeant, "what sayest thou, Robert, +Duke of Wessex, is that which thou hast confessed true?"</p> + +<p>"It is true."</p> + +<p>"And didst thou confess it willingly and freely of thyself, or was there +any extortion or unfair means to draw it from thee?"</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_280" id="Page_280">[Pg 280]</a></span>"Surely I made that confession freely," replied the prisoner, "without +any constraint, and that is all true."</p> + +<p>"And hast thou read the depositions of those who were witness of thy +crime, and who have added their testimony to that which thine accusers, +the Queen's Commissioners, already know?"</p> + +<p>"I have not read those depositions, as there was no one present when Don +Miguel died save I—his murderer—and God!"</p> + +<p>As Wessex made this last bold declaration, the Queen's Serjeant turned +towards His Eminence as if expecting guidance from that direction, but +as nothing came he continued—</p> + +<p>"I would have thee weigh well what thou sayest. Thine answers and +confessions, if spoken truthfully, will do much to mitigate the severity +of the punishment which thy crime hath called forth."</p> + +<p>"I will make mine own confession," retorted Wessex, with a sudden quick +return to his own haughty manner. "I pray you teach me not how to answer +or confess. But because I was not cognizant whether my peers did know it +all or not, I have made a short declaration of my doings with Don +Miguel. That is the truth, my lords," he added, addressing his triers +and judges on the bench, "everything else which hath been added contrary +to mine own confession is a lie and a perjury, as God here is my +witness."</p> + +<p>"Thy confession is but a brief record of the fact, as the Clerk of the +Crown will presently read. There is neither circumstance nor detail."</p> + +<p>"And is it for circumstance or detail that I am being tried?" rejoined +Wessex, "or for the murder of Don Miguel de Suarez, to which I hereby +plead guilty?"</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_281" id="Page_281">[Pg 281]</a></span>The Queen's Serjeant looked to Sir Robert Catline for guidance. The Lord +Chief Justice, however, was of opinion that the prisoner's confession +must be read first, before any further argument about it could be +allowed.</p> + +<p>The Clerk of the Crown then rose and began to read:—</p> + +<div class="ital blockquot"><p>"The voluntary confession of Robert Duke of Wessex, +now a prisoner in the Tower, and accused of murder, +treason, and felony: made at the Tower of London on +the fifteenth day of October, 1553. I hereby +acknowledge and confess that on the fourteenth day of +October I did unlawfully kill Don Miguel, Marquis de +Suarez, by stabbing him in the back with my dagger. +For this murder I plead neither excuse nor +justification, and submit myself to a trial by my +peers and to the justice of this realm. So help me +God."</p></div> + +<p>The bench, the entire hall, was crowded with the Duke's friends; with +the exception of a very small faction, who for reasons they deemed good +and adequate desired the Spanish alliance, and the death of the man at +the bar, not a single man or woman present believed that that confession +was an exposé of the truth. The Serjeant himself, the Clerk of the +Crown, the Attorney and Solicitor-General who represented the +prosecution, knew that some mystery lurked behind that monstrous +self-accusation. But it was so straightforward, so categorical, that +unless some extraordinary event occurred, unless Wessex himself recanted +that confession, nothing could save him from its dire consequences.</p> + +<p>Oh! if Wessex would but recant! No one would have disbelieved him +then—not that fickle, motley crowd surely, who with its own +characteristic inconsequence had suddenly taken the accused to its +heart.</p> + +<p>"'Tis not true, Wessex!" shouted a manly voice from the body of the +hall.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_282" id="Page_282">[Pg 282]</a></span>"Deny it! deny it!" came in a regular hubbub from the compact mass of +throats in the rear.</p> + +<p>The Duke smiled, but did not move. Lord Rich, in his memoirs, here +points out that "His Grace seemed all unconscious of his surroundings +and like unto a wanderer in the land of dreams."</p> + +<p>But the confession had aroused the opposition of the crowd, it was truly +past honest men's belief. Every one murmured, and some chroniclers aver +that there was a regular tumult, more than encouraged by the Duke's +friends, and not checked even by the Lord High Steward himself.</p> + +<p>In the turn of a hand public opinion had veered round. Forgetting that a +while ago they were ready to hoot and mock the prisoner, the men now +were equally prepared to make a rush for the bar and drag him away from +that ignominious place, which they suddenly understood that he never +should have occupied.</p> + +<p>The Serjeant-at-Arms had much ado to make himself heard. The guard had +literally to make an onslaught on the crowd. It was fully five or ten +minutes before the noise subsided; then only did murmurs die down like +the roar of the sea when the surf recedes from the shore.</p> + +<p>It was a brief lull, and Mr. Barham, the Queen's Serjeant, having once +more enjoined silence on behalf of Her Majesty's Commissioner, and on +pain of imprisonment, was at last able to continue his duties.</p> + +<p>"It appeareth before you, my lords," he resumed in a loud, clear voice, +"that this man hath been indicted and arraigned of a most heinous crime, +and hath confessed it before you, which is of record. Wherefore there +resteth no more to be done but for the Court to give judgment +accordingly, which here I require in the behalf of the Queen's +Majesty."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_283" id="Page_283">[Pg 283]</a></span>The Lord High Steward rose and a gentleman usher took the white wand +from him. He stood bareheaded, and every one in the Hall could see him.</p> + +<p>"Robert, Duke of Wessex," he said, and his voice trembled as he spoke, +"Duke of Dorchester, Earl of Launceston, Wexford, and Bridthorpe, Baron +of Greystone, Ullesthorpe, and Edbrooke, premier peer of England, what +have you to say why I may not proceed to judgment?"</p> + +<p>The last words almost sounded like an appeal, of friend to friend, +comrade to comrade. Lord Chandois' kindly eyes were fixed in deep sorrow +on the man whom he had loved and honoured sufficiently to wish to see +him on the throne of England.</p> + +<p>There was an awed hush in the vast hall, and then a voice, clear and +distinct—a woman's voice—broke the momentous silence.</p> + +<p>"The Duke of Wessex is innocent of the charge brought against him, as I +hereby bear witness on his behalf."</p> + +<p>Even as the last bell-like tones echoed through the great chamber a +young girl stepped forward, sable-clad and fragile-looking, but +unabashed by the hundreds of eyes fixed eagerly upon her.</p> + +<p>In the centre of the room she paused, and, throwing back the dark veil +which enveloped her face, she looked straight up at my Lord High +Steward.</p> + +<p>"Who speaks?" he asked in astonishment.</p> + +<p>"I, Ursula Glynde," she replied firmly, "daughter of the Earl of Truro."</p> + +<p>At sound of her voice Wessex had started. His face became deathly pale +and his hand gripped the massive bar of wood before him, until every +muscle and sinew in his arm creaked with the intensity of the effort. It +was only after she had spoken her own name that he seemed to pull +himself together, for he said<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_284" id="Page_284">[Pg 284]</a></span>—</p> + +<p>"I pray your lordships not to listen. I desire no witnesses on my +behalf."</p> + +<p>His temples had begun to throb, a wild horror seized him at thought of +what she might do. And her appearance, too, had set his heart beating in +a veritable turmoil of emotions. For she stood now before him, before +them all, as the vision of purity and innocence which he had first +learnt to worship: that other self of hers, that mysterious, half-crazed +being who had fooled and mocked him and then committed the awful crime +for which he stood self-convicted, that had vanished, leaving only this +delicate, ethereal being, the one whom he had clasped in his arms, whose +blue eyes had gazed lovingly into his, whose lips had met his in that +one mad, passionate embrace.</p> + +<p>When he interposed thus coldly, impassively, she shuddered slightly but +she did not turn towards him, and he could only see the dainty outline +of her fine profile, cut clear against a dark background of moving +figures beyond. From the table at which she herself had been sitting and +waiting all this while, and which was now in full view of the +spectators, two advocates rose and joined the bench of judges. One of +them, after a brief consultation with the Clerk of the Crown, turned +respectfully towards the Lord High Steward.</p> + +<p>"I humbly beseech your lordship," he said firmly, "and you, my lords, to +hear the evidence of the Lady Ursula Glynde. There has been no time to +obtain a written deposition from her, for God at the eleventh hour hath +thought fit to move her to speak that which she knows, so that a +dreadful error may not be committed."</p> + +<p>"This is a great breach of customary procedure," said Mr. Thomas +Bromley, the Solicitor-General, with a dubious shake of the head.</p> + +<p>"Not so great as you would have us think, sir," com<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_285" id="Page_285">[Pg 285]</a></span>mented Sir Robert +Catline, "for e'en in the trial of the late-lamented Queen Catherine of +blessed memory, my lord of Uppingham, whose depositions could not be +taken previously, was nevertheless allowed to bear witness on behalf of +the accused."</p> + +<p>But the opinion of the most learned lawyer in England would not now have +been listened to, if it had been adverse to the present situation. Lords +and judges, noblemen and spectators clamoured with every means at their +command, short of absolute contempt of Court, that this new witness +should be heard.</p> + +<p>"How say you, my lords?" said the Lord High Steward eagerly, "bearing in +mind the opinion of our learned colleague, ought we to hear this lady or +no?"</p> + +<p>"Aye! aye!" came from every voice on the bench.</p> + +<p>"By Our Lady! I protest!" said Wessex loudly.</p> + +<p>"We will hear this lady," pronounced the Lord High Steward. "Let her +step forward and be made to swear the truth of her assertions."</p> + +<p>Ursula came forward a step or two. Mr. Thomas Wilbraham, +Attorney-General of the Court of Wards, who was sitting close by, held +out a small wooden crucifix towards her. She took it and kissed it +reverently.</p> + +<p>"You are the Lady Ursula Glynde," queried Lord Chandois, "maid-of-honour +to the Queen's Majesty?"</p> + +<p>"I am."</p> + +<p>"Then do I charge you to speak the truth, the whole truth, and naught +but the truth, so help you God."</p> + +<p>"My lords," protested Wessex hotly, for his brain was in a whirl. He +could not allow her to speak and accuse herself of her crime—she, the +angel side of her, taking upon herself the evil committed by that +mysterious second self over which she had no control. It was too +horrible! And all these people gaping at her made his blood tingle with +shame. What he had readily borne<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_286" id="Page_286">[Pg 286]</a></span> himself, the disgrace, the staring +crowd, the pity and inquisitiveness of the multitude, that he felt he +could not endure for her.</p> + +<p>Already, as he saw her now, his heart had forgiven her everything; +gladly, joyously would he die now, since he had seen her once more as +she really was, pure and undefiled by contact with the ignoble wretch +whom, in a moment of madness, she had sent to his death.</p> + +<p>He protested with all his might. But it was his own past life, his +friends, his popularity, which now literally conspired against him, and +caused his judges to turn a deaf ear to his entreaties.</p> + +<p>"My lord of Wessex," said the High Steward sternly, "in the name of +justice and for the dignity of this court, I charge you to be silent."</p> + +<p>Then he once more addressed the Lady Ursula.</p> + +<p>"Say on, lady. This court will hear you."</p> + +<p>She waited a few moments, whilst every spectator there seemed to hear +his own heart beat with the intensity of his excitement. Then she began +speaking in a firm and even voice, somewhat low at first, but gaining in +strength and volume as she proceeded.</p> + +<p>"I would have you know, my lords," she said, "that at midnight on the +fourteenth day of October, being in the Audience Chamber at Hampton +Court Palace, in the company of Don Miguel de Suarez . . ."</p> + +<p>She paused suddenly and seemed to sway. Mr. Thomas Wilbraham ran to her, +offering her a chair, which she declined with a quick wave of the hand.</p> + +<p>"My lords," said Wessex, quietly and earnestly, during the brief lull +caused by this interruption, "I entreat you in the name of justice, do +not hear this lady; she is excited and overwrought and knows not the +purport of what she is saying. . . . You see for yourselves she is +scarce conscious of her actions. . . . I have<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_287" id="Page_287">[Pg 287]</a></span> made full confession +. . . there rests nothing to be done. . . ."</p> + +<p>"Prisoner at the bar," said the Lord High Steward, "I charge you to be +silent. Lady Ursula, continue."</p> + +<p>And Wessex perforce had to hold his peace, whilst Ursula resumed her +tale more calmly.</p> + +<p>"Being in company of Don Miguel, who spoke words of love to me . . . and +anon did hold me in his arms . . . when I tried to escape . . . but +. . . but . . . he would not let me go . . . he . . . he . . . your +lordships, have patience with me, I pray you . . ." she added in tones +of intense pathos as the monstrous lie she was so sublimely forcing +herself to utter seemed suddenly to be choking her. Then she continued +speaking quickly, lest perhaps she might waver before the end.</p> + +<p>"His Grace of Wessex did come upon us, and seeing me held with violence, +I, who was his betrothed, to save mine honour, the Duke did strike Don +Miguel down."</p> + +<p>There was dead silence as the young girl had finished speaking. Wessex +was staring at her, and Mr. Thomas Norton assures us that he burst out +laughing, a laugh which the Queen's printer stigmatizes as "heartless +and unworthy a high-born gentleman! for truly," he continues, "the Lady +Ursula Glynde was moved by the spirit of God in thus making a tardy +confession, and His Grace, methinks, should have shown a proper spirit +of reverence before this manifestation of God."</p> + +<p>But if Wessex laughed at this supreme and palpitating moment, surely his +laugh must have come from the very bitterness of his soul. As far as he +knew Ursula had told nothing but a strangely concocted lie. To him, who +had—as he thought—seen her with the blood of Don Miguel still warm +upon her hands, this extraordinary tale of threatened honour and timely +interference was but a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_288" id="Page_288">[Pg 288]</a></span> tangled tissue of wanton falsehoods—another in +the long series which she had told to him.</p> + +<p>And purposeless too!</p> + +<p>He had no idea of any sacrifice on her part, and merely looked upon her +present action as a weak attempt to save him from the gallows and no +more.</p> + +<p>She just liked him well enough apparently not to wish to see him hang, +but that was all. And this suddenly struck him as ridiculous, paltry, +and childish, a silly bravado which caused him to laugh. Perhaps she +desired to save him publicly at slight cost to herself, in order that +she might yet occupy one day the position which she had so avowedly +coveted since her childhood—that of Duchess of Wessex!</p> + +<p>It was indeed more than ridiculous.</p> + +<p>The stain of murder, which was really on her hands, she was full willing +that it should rest on him, only slightly palliated by the lie which she +had told.</p> + +<p>Strange, strange perversion of a girlish soul!</p> + +<p>With dulled ears and brain in a turmoil Wessex only partly heard the +questions and cross-questions which his judges now put to her. She never +wavered from her original story, but repeated it again and again, +circumstantially and without hesitation. Never once did she look towards +the bar.</p> + +<p>"Lady Ursula Glynde," said Lord Chandois finally and with solemn +earnestness, "do you swear upon your honour and conscience that you have +spoken the truth?"</p> + +<p>And she replied equally solemnly—</p> + +<p>"I swear it upon mine honour and conscience."</p> + +<p>"'Tis false from beginning to end," protested Wessex loudly.</p> + +<p>Ursula made a low obeisance before my Lord High Steward. The crucifix +was once more held up to her and she kissed it reverently. With that +pious kiss she reached<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_289" id="Page_289">[Pg 289]</a></span> at that moment the highest pinnacle of her +sacrifice—she gave up to the man she loved the very spotlessness of her +soul. For his sake she had lied and spoken a false oath—she had sinned +in order that he might be saved.</p> + +<p>And even now she also reached the greatest depth of her own misery, for, +as she told her tale before his judges and before <i>him</i>, she half +expected that he would exonerate her from the odious accusations which +she was bringing against herself.</p> + +<p>The story which she had told had been in accordance with the Cardinal's +suggestions, but she herself was quite convinced that Don Miguel had +fallen by a woman's hand. Wessex would never have hit another man in the +back—that was woman's work, and she who had done it was so dear to him, +that he was sacrificing life and honour in order to shield her.</p> + +<p>Aye! more than that! for was he not acting a coward's part by allowing +Ursula Glynde to sacrifice her fair name for the sake of a wanton?</p> + +<p>And thus these two people who loved one another more than life, honour, +and happiness, were face to face now with that terrible misunderstanding +between them:—still further apart from each other than they had ever +been, both suffering acutely in heart and mind for the supposed +cowardice and wantonness of the other, and the while my Lord High +Steward and the other noble lords were concluding the ceremonies of that +strange, eventful trial.</p> + +<p>"My lords," said Lord Chandois, once more rising from his seat, "you +have heard the evidence of this lady, and Robert Duke of Wessex having +put himself upon the trial of God and you his peers, I charge you to +consider if it appeareth that he is guilty of this murder or whether he +had justification, and thereupon say your minds upon your honour and +consciences."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_290" id="Page_290">[Pg 290]</a></span>We have Mr. Thomas Norton's authority for stating that my lords, the +triers, never left their seats, nor did they deliberate. Hardly were the +words out of my Lord High Steward's lips than with one accord +four-and-twenty voices were raised saying—</p> + +<p>"Not guilty!"</p> + +<p>"Then," adds Mr. Norton, "there was a cheer raised from the people +inside the Hall which was quite deafening to the ears. Sundry tossed +their caps into the air, and many of the women began to cry. My Lord +High Steward could not make himself heard for a long while, at which he +became very wrathful, and, calling to the Serjeant-at-Arms, he bade him +clear the Court of all these noise-makers."</p> + +<p>There seems to have been considerable difficulty in doing this, for Mr. +Thomas Norton continuously refers to "riotous conduct," and even to +"contempt of the Queen's Commissioner." Cheers of "God save Wessex!" +alternated with the loyal cry of "God save the Queen." The men-at-arms +had to use their halberds, and did so very effectually, one or two of +the more excited "noise-makers" getting wounded about the face and +hands. Finally the suggestion came from Mr. Barham, the Queen's +Serjeant, that His Grace of Wessex should be concealed from the view of +the populace, and, acting upon this advice, the Lieutenant of the Tower +ordered his guard to close around the bar, whilst a low seat was +provided for His Grace. The object of this mad enthusiasm being thus +placed out of sight, the people became gradually more calm, and the +noise subsided sufficiently for the Queen's Serjeant to give forth his +final dictum.</p> + +<p>"My Lord's Grace, the Queen's Commissioner, High Steward of England, +chargeth all persons to depart in God's peace and the Queen's, and hath +dissolved this Commission!"</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_291" id="Page_291">[Pg 291]</a></span>"God save the Queen!" was shouted lustily, and then the great door was +opened and the people began quietly to file out.</p> + +<p>The pale November sun had struggled out of its misty coverings, and +touched the pinnacles and towers of the old Abbey with delicate gleams +of golden grey. Slowly the crowd moved on, some of the more venturesome +or more enthusiastic townsfolk, the 'prentices, and younger men, +lingered round the precincts to see the great personages come out and to +give a final cheer for His Grace of Wessex.</p> + +<p>The Hall itself seemed lonely now that the people had gone. The Lord +High Steward once more called on the prisoner, who had already risen as +soon as his noisy partisans had departed.</p> + +<p>As he had been impassive throughout the terrible ordeal of this trial +for his life, so he remained now that on every face before him he read +the inevitable acquittal. He had watched Ursula Glynde's graceful figure +as, accompanied by the Cardinal de Moreno, she had finally made an +obeisance before the judges, then had retired through the doors of the +Lord Chancellor's Court.</p> + +<p>A great and awful disgust filled his whole heart. It was he now who was +conscious of the loathsome web, which had enveloped him more completely +than he had ever anticipated.</p> + +<p>He saw his acquittal hovering on the lips of his peers. Lord Chandois' +kindly face was beaming with delight, Sir Robert Catline and Mr. Gilbert +Gerard were conversing quite excitedly: his own friends, Sir Henry +Beddingfield and Lord Mordaunt, Lord Huntingdon and Sir John Williams, +were openly expressing their intense satisfaction.</p> + +<p>But for him, what did it all mean? An acquittal based on a lie, and that +lie told by a woman to save him!</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_292" id="Page_292">[Pg 292]</a></span>But a lie for all that, and one which he could not refute, without +telling the whole truth to his judges and branding <i>her</i> publicly as a +murderess and worse.</p> + +<p>He, who had ever held his own honour, his pride, the cleanness of his +whole existence as a fetish to be worshipped, now saw himself forced to +barter all that which he held so sacred and gain his own life in +exchange. How much more gladly would he have heard his death-sentence +pronounced now by his friend's kind lips. Death—however +ignominious—would have purified and exalted honour.</p> + +<p>Mechanically he listened to Lord Chandois' speech, and mechanically he +protested. The web was tightly woven around him, and he was powerless to +tear it asunder.</p> + +<p>"Robert Duke of Wessex and of Dorchester," said the Lord High Steward, +"Earl of Launceston, Wexford, and Bridthorpe, Baron of Greystone, +Ullesthorpe and Edbrooke, premier peer of England, the lords, your +peers, have found you not guilty of this crime of murder."</p> + +<p>"My lords," said Wessex in a final appeal, which he himself felt was a +hopeless one, "I thank you from my heart, but I cannot accept this +decision; it is based on a falsehood, the hysterical outpourings of a +misguided heart, and . . ."</p> + +<p>But already the Lord High Steward had interrupted him.</p> + +<p>"My lord Duke," he said, "the tale this lady hath at last spoken in open +Court was one guessed at by all your friends; she hath not only followed +the dictates of her conscience, but hath taken a heavy burden from the +hearts of your triers, and one which would have saddened many of us, +even to our graves. Had it been my terrible duty to pass death-sentence +upon you, which had the lady not spoken I should have been bound to do, +I myself<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_293" id="Page_293">[Pg 293]</a></span> would have felt akin to a murderer. We cannot but thank heaven +that Lady Ursula's heart was touched at the eleventh hour, and that you +were not allowed to sacrifice your honour and your life in so worthless +a cause."</p> + +<p>"But I cannot allow you to believe, nor you, my lords . . ." further +protested the Duke.</p> + +<p>"Nay, my lord, we only believe one thing, and that is that Your Grace +leaves this Court this day with the respect and admiration of all men in +the land, with unsullied honour, and with stainless name. All else we +are content shall remain a mystery betwixt Lady Ursula Glynde and her +conscience."</p> + +<p>"God save the Queen," added the Lord High Steward as he broke the white +wand.</p> + +<p>"And," adds Mr. Thomas Norton, "thus ended the trial of His Grace of +Wessex and of Dorchester, on a charge of murder, treason, and felony. +Surrounded by his friends, cheered by the mob, the Duke left Westminster +Hall a free man, but as I watched his face, meseemed that I saw thereon +such strange melancholy and a hue like that of death. He smiled to my +lord Huntingdon and spoke long and earnestly with my lord Rich. He had +mighty cause to be thankful to God and to his friends for his acquittal, +yet meseemed almost as if he rebelled against his happy fate, and I +hereby bear witness that the blood of the Spanish envoy must still have +clung to His Grace's hands. In just cause or in unjust no man shall take +another's life wantonly, and I doubt not but His Grace's conscience will +trouble him unto his death."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_294" id="Page_294">[Pg 294]</a></span></p> + +<h2 class="newchapter"><a name="CHAPTER_XXXVI" id="CHAPTER_XXXVI"></a>CHAPTER XXXVI<br /> +<span class="smalltext">AFTERWARDS</span></h2> + + +<p>Escorted throughout the journey home by His Eminence, Ursula had not +uttered one word. She sat in the barge, gazing out along the river, her +veil closely drawn over her head, lest prying eyes noted the expression +on her face.</p> + +<p>She was as one who had seen all that she held most dear dying before her +eyes. She had made her sacrifice willingly, had offered up her fair +name, her every feminine instinct of honour and modesty upon the altar +of her love. She had by that sublime holocaust offered up to God a +thanksgiving for two brief hours of happiness which she had enjoyed.</p> + +<p>How far, far away those transient moments seemed now to be. That +half-hour in the park of old Hampton Court, with the nightingale singing +its sweet song as an accompaniment to the great hosanna which filled her +heart. She closed her eyes, for her heart ached nigh to bursting when +she remembered that first touch of his hand upon hers, the gay, merry +words which fell from his lips, the passionate ardour which gleamed in +his eyes.</p> + +<p>Oh God! she had worshipped one of Thy creatures and found him less than +human after all. The murmur of the river as the boat glided along +recalled to her those few moments among the rushes, when a golden +October sun was sinking slowly in the west, and the water-fowl were +calling to their mates, while she leant back in a boat,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_295" id="Page_295">[Pg 295]</a></span> lulled by the +peace of that exquisite hour, rocked to blissful rest by the gentle +motion of the river, and dreaming of heaven, for he sat opposite to her, +and every look of his told her that he thought her fair.</p> + +<p>Oh God! she had worshipped one of Thy creatures! How great is Thy +vengeance now!</p> + +<p>He was false to love! false to her!</p> + +<p>All jealousy had died from her heart. Her pain now was because he was +false. She had forgotten the other woman, she only remembered him—that +he did not love her, that he had accepted her sacrifice, and laughed +bitterly, cruelly, when first she told her sublime lie for his sake.</p> + +<p>At the Water Gate of the Palace the barge drew up and Ursula prepared to +alight. She had spent the short moments of the transit between +Westminster and Hampton Court in these heart-breaking daydreams. She +hardly realized where she was and what she was doing. Once only, when +first the cupolas of the Palace detached themselves from out the mist, +she had felt such a desperate pain in her heart, that for a moment the +wild hope came to her that God would be merciful and would allow her to +die.</p> + +<p>But when she alighted she suddenly became conscious that the Cardinal de +Moreno was standing before her, his delicate white hand outstretched to +help her to step ashore. She shrank away from him as from a viper who +had stung her and might sting her again. Not understanding his attitude, +nor the motives which had led him to suggest to her the lie that had +saved Wessex, she yet knew by instinct that this purple-clad, benevolent +person, this kindly and courteous diplomatist was a thing of evil which +had first polluted and then killed her love.</p> + +<p>His Eminence smiled—a kind, indulgent smile—when<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_296" id="Page_296">[Pg 296]</a></span> he saw the quick +look of horror in the young girl's face, and he said very gently—</p> + +<p>"Will you not allow me, my daughter, to accompany you to your +apartments? The Queen, remember, hath confided you to my charge; I would +wish to see you safely in Her Grace of Lincoln's care."</p> + +<p>"Your Eminence does me too much honour," she said coldly. "I can find my +way alone through the Water Gallery."</p> + +<p>"Yet Her Majesty, meseems, will not allow her maids-of-honour to walk +unattended in this part of the grounds," he added, with a slight touch +of benevolent sarcasm.</p> + +<p>"My comings and goings have ceased to interest Her Majesty," rejoined +Ursula quietly, "and I am no longer of sufficient importance to require +watching or to demand an escort."</p> + +<p>"Well, as you will, my daughter. It is not for me to force my presence +upon you, though, believe me, I would have wished to serve you."</p> + +<p>He was about to beckon to his retinue, who had stood respectfully aside +during this brief colloquy, when with a quick, wholly unexpected +movement, the young girl placed her hand upon his arm and forced him +once more to turn and face her.</p> + +<p>"Your Eminence would wish to serve me?" she said, speaking rapidly and +with a strange, peremptory ring in her voice.</p> + +<p>"Can you doubt it, my child?" he replied urbanely.</p> + +<p>"No," she said firmly, "for there is that between Your Eminence and me +which, if known to the Queen of England, would for ever ruin your +position in any court of Europe."</p> + +<p>"You would find it difficult . . ." he began, whilst a slight look—oh, +a mere shade!—of fear seemed to creep into his eyes.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_297" id="Page_297">[Pg 297]</a></span>"Nay! I was not thinking of betraying Your Eminence, nor the trap which +you set for me, into which I was full willing to fall. I merely +mentioned the existence of this secret for the awakening of your own +conscience and because I have need of a service from you."</p> + +<p>"I will endeavour to fulfil your behests, my child."</p> + +<p>"I desire three words with His Grace of Wessex this afternoon."</p> + +<p>"My child . . . !" he ejaculated, with still a tone of nervousness +perceptible in his voice, and a trace of that newly awakened fear +lurking in the anxious look which he cast upon her.</p> + +<p>But she seemed quite self-possessed, and almost commanding as one who +had the right to demand obedience. The Cardinal did not quite know how +to read her character at this moment. There was no doubt that if she +chose to betray the part which he had played in her voluntary +self-immolation, there would be plenty of people at the English Court +only too ready to believe her, or at any rate to seem to do so. The +Queen of England herself would lend a willing ear to any tale which +would release her from her promise, with a semblance of honour to +herself. His Grace of Wessex stood fully exonerated now, and in the face +of so much humiliation the Cardinal would find it impossible to demand a +fresh trial, whilst Mary Tudor had probably already repented of her +pledge to marry King Philip of Spain.</p> + +<p>On the other hand, was it not dangerous to allow an interview to take +place between Wessex and Ursula? In a flash the Cardinal reviewed the +situation, and weighed all the consequences of the two courses thus +opened before him—acquiescence and negation, and with his usual +quickness of intellect he decided that acquiescence would be least +dangerous. All he wanted was the time in which he could obtain the +Queen's actual signature to her pledge.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_298" id="Page_298">[Pg 298]</a></span> Once that was done, Mary Tudor +would never go back on her royal sign-manual. In any case not much harm +could be done in a brief interview. Both Wessex and Ursula were so far +from guessing the truth, so ignorant of the tangled meshes of the +intrigue in which they were still being held, that it would undoubtedly +require the testimony of a third person at least, to bring daylight into +the black shadows of the mystery.</p> + +<p>Therefore His Eminence, after these few seconds of serious thought, +resumed his kind, suave manner and, dismissing all fears from his mind, +placed his services with alacrity at Lady Ursula's disposal.</p> + +<p>"But I fear me," he added reflectively, "that you place too much +reliance upon my humble powers. His Grace of Wessex is not like to +listen to me, and meseems that you could more easily obtain an interview +with him through your own influence, which just now should be boundless, +if the Duke has any gratitude in his heart."</p> + +<p>"Your Eminence seems to be the prime mover in this drama of puppets," +rejoined Ursula drily, "and the Queen will put every obstacle in my way +unless Your Eminence interferes."</p> + +<p>"Your confidence honours me, my daughter; I will do my humble best +beside Her Majesty, and you can do the rest. But this, on one +condition."</p> + +<p>"Name it."</p> + +<p>"That you will have patience until to-morrow. His Grace arrives at the +Palace to-night, Her Majesty will no doubt honour him specially; there +may be festivities to-morrow afternoon. I think I can so contrive it +that you have ten minutes alone then with His Grace."</p> + +<p>She bent her head in acquiescence, and then stepped back so as to +intimate to him that this interview was at an end.</p> + +<p>"Be prudent, my daughter," he added, as he finally<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_299" id="Page_299">[Pg 299]</a></span> turned to go, "and +remember that a sin is best atoned for by humility and silence."</p> + +<p>"At what hour can I rely on Your Eminence's promise to-morrow?" she +rejoined, calmly ignoring his urbane speech.</p> + +<p>"In the early part of the afternoon, if God will grant me power."</p> + +<p>"Your Eminence had best pray for that power then," she added finally.</p> + +<p>The Cardinal took leave of her with his usual dignified benevolence. It +did not suit him at present to appear to be taking notice of her thinly +veiled threats. He did not think that she would actually betray him, +even if she did talk to His Grace for a few moments, for to betray the +lie would mean also to acknowledge her love and her jealousy, and proud +Ursula Glynde would never suffer that humiliation.</p> + +<p>The situation was delicate and difficult, more so perhaps than it had +ever been, but the next few hours should see the Queen of England's +signature at the bottom of a bond.</p> + +<p>Thoughtfully His Eminence began walking along the Water Gallery, whilst +Ursula quietly watched his purple robes gliding along the flagged +corridor.</p> + +<p>She too had gained her wish—to see and speak to Wessex. What would she +say? and how would he reply? Vaguely she wondered if she would have the +strength to show him the contempt which she felt for his cowardice, and +inwardly prayed for the strength not to let him see how much she loved +him still.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_300" id="Page_300">[Pg 300]</a></span></p> + +<h2 class="newchapter"><a name="CHAPTER_XXXVII" id="CHAPTER_XXXVII"></a>CHAPTER XXXVII<br /> +<span class="smalltext">THE CARDINAL'S PUPPETS</span></h2> + + +<p>His Eminence the Cardinal de Moreno knew well how to gauge the moods and +tempers of the English people of his time. He had rightly guessed that +the Duke of Wessex, whom but a few hours ago his countrymen were ready +to condemn to a shameful death, would remain the hero of the hour, until +the enthusiasm of his friends had once more cooled down to a more normal +pitch.</p> + +<p>Mary Tudor was deeply grateful to the Cardinal, for what she truly +believed was a wonderful triumph of persuasion over the obstinacy of a +guilty conscience. If in her innermost heart she bitterly resented the +fact that Wessex owed his acquittal to outside influences rather than to +the will of his Queen, she nevertheless was ready enough to acknowledge +how completely His Eminence had succeeded, and how little ground she had +for not keeping her share of the momentous compact which she had made +with him.</p> + +<p>"If Your Eminence is instrumental in saving His Grace from the block I +will marry King Philip of Spain!"</p> + +<p>That was her bond, and already the Cardinal had claimed its fulfilment. +The Queen of England stood definitely pledged to give her hand to Philip +II, King of Spain.</p> + +<p>The Spanish alliance, so much dreaded by the patriotic faction of +England, was all but an accomplished fact. Bitter disappointment reigned +in the hearts of all those<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_301" id="Page_301">[Pg 301]</a></span> who had hoped to see an English peer upon +the English throne. Yet all Wessex' friends were bound to admit that +from the very moment when the Duke's acquittal suddenly roused all their +dormant hopes, one look at his face had sufficed to tell them that those +same hopes had been born but to die again. There stood a man, broken in +health and spirits, tired of life, without buoyancy or youth, or that +delightful vigour which had made the name of Wessex sound a note of +gladness throughout the land.</p> + +<p>Even as he stepped down from the bar and his adherents showered good +wishes upon him, he looked twenty years older than he had done on that +bright happy day a fortnight ago when, the cynosure of all eyes, the +most brilliant ornament of that gorgeous court, he seemed to stand +smiling on the steps of the throne, gently dallying with a crown.</p> + +<p>Yet Mary Tudor, wilfully forgetting for the moment her pledge to the +Spaniards, longing to enjoy these last few hours when she was still +free, had showered smiles, fêtes, honours upon the man she loved, happy +to feel his lips pressed upon her hand in loyalty and gratitude.</p> + +<p>She had never inquired of him how much real truth there was in the story +which Ursula Glynde had told in open court. Perhaps she did not care to +know. She was weak enough—woman enough—to rejoice at the thought of +her rival's complete humiliation. She was content to let the events of +that fateful night remain completely wrapped in mystery. Vaguely she +felt that in some sort of way the elucidation of it would not be +altogether detrimental to Ursula Glynde, at the same time she knew that +never now could the young girl, who had come between her and the man she +loved, aspire to become Duchess of Wessex.</p> + +<p>The scandal had been too great, and unless some un<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_302" id="Page_302">[Pg 302]</a></span>expected and +wonderful thing happened, which would signally clear Ursula's maiden +fame, she would for ever remain under the ban of this mystery which had +besmirched her good name.</p> + +<p>Ursula had been quite right when she asserted with bitter sarcasm that +His Eminence the Cardinal de Moreno seemed to be the prime mover in the +game of puppets, which was now proceeding within the precincts of the +Palace. With the royal signature appended to his bond, he felt that his +position was now impregnable, and he moved about among the English lords +and courtiers as a vice-regent would in the absence of a king.</p> + +<p>The fact that a messenger from Scotland had arrived in the morning with +news of the ambassadors to the Queen Regent, without any mention of +either Lord Pembroke's or Lord Everingham's sudden departure from +thence, had completely calmed any fears he still might have of the +latter's too sudden reappearance at Hampton Court. In any case now he +had still some days before him during which he could consolidate his +success, by establishing direct intercourse between King Philip and the +Queen of England. He hoped before many hours had elapsed to obtain from +Mary Tudor an actual letter, writ in her own hand to her royal +betrothed.</p> + +<p>Thus secure in his invulnerable position, the Cardinal had thought it +prudent as well as expedient to accede to Ursula's wishes, which seemed +very like commands, and he had used his diplomatic skill to good purpose +in persuading Mary Tudor to allow the interview between the young girl +and His Grace.</p> + +<p>At the same time His Eminence was sufficiently wary so to manipulate his +puppets that the interview should be of the briefest, and in this he was +like enough to succeed.</p> + +<p>It was in order to celebrate the happy return of His<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_303" id="Page_303">[Pg 303]</a></span> Grace to Court +that the Queen had, at his request, granted a free pardon to all those +who were to be brought for trial on the same day as the Duke. Two +o'clock in the afternoon of the day following this great event, had been +fixed when all these poor people, vagrants and beggars mostly, one or +two political prisoners, perhaps, were to thank His Grace for their +freedom publicly in the grounds of the Palace.</p> + +<p>The Cardinal, well aware of this, skilfully working too on the Queen's +still restive jealousy, had suggested to Mary that Ursula Glynde should +await the Duke of Wessex in the hall at fifteen minutes before the hour.</p> + +<p>"A quarter of an hour, Your Majesty," he said insinuatingly, when first +on that same morning he had broached the subject, "fifteen short +minutes, during which the breach 'twixt His Grace and a disgraced maiden +can but be irretrievably widened."</p> + +<p>"Your Eminence seems to think that I desire a breach," retorted Mary +with Tudor-like haughtiness.</p> + +<p>"Far from me even to think such a thought," rejoined the Cardinal +blandly; "but as a faithful servant of Your Majesty, soon to become a +loyal subject when Your Grace is Queen of Spain, I hold the welfare of +all those whom you deign to honour very much at heart. . . . And I was +thinking of His Grace of Wessex."</p> + +<p>"What of him, my lord?"</p> + +<p>"The Duke is proud, Your Majesty; would it be well, think you, if a girl +of Lady Ursula Glynde's reputation were to become Duchess of Wessex?"</p> + +<p>"Think you she hath the desire?"</p> + +<p>"<i>Quien sabe?</i>" he replied guardedly, "but an Your Majesty will trust my +judgment, a brief interview with His Grace would soon scatter her hopes +to the winds."</p> + +<p>Thus did this astute diplomatist play upon every fibre of a woman's +emotions. His calculations were made to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_304" id="Page_304">[Pg 304]</a></span> a nicety—only the interview +which Ursula had demanded and no more! This to pacify the young girl in +case she became defiant, but the meeting itself just short enough to +avoid any harm.</p> + +<p>At twenty minutes before two, Ursula was bidden to the Great Hall by +command of Her Majesty. The Duchess of Lincoln—tearful and +kind—received her in the great window embrasure. Her motherly heart +ached to see the bitter sorrow of the beautiful girl, who had been so +full of vitality and merriment a brief fortnight ago.</p> + +<p>With a strange instinct, which she herself could not have explained, +Ursula had dressed herself all in white. A rich brocaded kirtle and +shimmery silken paniers seemed to accentuate the dull pallor of her +cheeks. Only her golden hair gave a brilliant note of colour and of life +to this marble statue, who seemed only to exist through its blue +magnetic eyes.</p> + +<p>"The page has gone to bid His Grace of Wessex attend upon you here, my +child," said the good old Duchess, as she took Ursula's cold hands in +hers, and mechanically stroked them with her own kind, wrinkled palms.</p> + +<p>"Think you he will come?" asked Ursula dully.</p> + +<p>"I doubt not but he will, my dear. His Grace owes you his life."</p> + +<p>"Yes?"</p> + +<p>"But before he comes, my treasure," murmured the dear old soul, "I would +have you know that I'll never believe aught, save that you are good and +pure. Some day, perhaps, you will love me well enough to tell me the +secret which is gnawing at your heart."</p> + +<p>She paused, quite frightened at the expression of intense soul-agony +which was suddenly apparent in every line of the wan young face.</p> + +<p>Ursula bent her tall, graceful figure, and raising the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_305" id="Page_305">[Pg 305]</a></span> gentle motherly +hands to her hot lips she kissed them with passionate tenderness.</p> + +<p>"In God's name, my dear, kind Duchess," she murmured, "do not speak soft +words to me. The Holy Virgin has helped me to keep calm; I must not +break down . . . not now . . . that he is coming."</p> + +<p>Now there was the sound of firm footsteps crossing the chamber beyond. +Ursula drew herself up, and for a moment a strange, scared expression +came into her face, then one of intense, yet inexpressible tenderness.</p> + +<p>Mutely she beckoned to the old Duchess, who, understanding this earnest +appeal, withdrew without uttering another word.</p> + +<p>The next moment the door at the further end of the hall was opened. A +page loudly announced—</p> + +<p>"His Grace the Duke of Wessex!"</p> + +<p>And for the first time since the awful moment when alien intrigues had +parted them, these two, who had so fondly loved, so deeply suffered, +were alone, face to face at last.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_306" id="Page_306">[Pg 306]</a></span></p> + +<h2 class="newchapter"><a name="CHAPTER_XXXVIII" id="CHAPTER_XXXVIII"></a>CHAPTER XXXVIII<br /> +<span class="smalltext">THE LAST FAREWELL</span></h2> + + +<p>She saw in a moment how much older he looked, and quaintly wondered +whether the black doublet and cloak caused him to seem so. Harry +Plantagenet—happiest of dogs now that his master roamed about with him +once more—walked with a proud step beside him.</p> + +<p>She looked such a dainty picture, framed in the rich embrasure of the +great window, her graceful figure with its crown of gold looking +majestic and noble on the raised dais, ethereal and almost ghostlike, +with its rich white draperies.</p> + +<p>Just for one moment as Wessex entered the room the events of the last +fortnight suddenly vanished from his memory. She was there before him, +in that same soft gown of white, as she had stood that day, with a sheaf +of roses in her arms—or were they marguerites?—and once more, as he +had done then, he vaguely wondered what colour were her eyes. On his +lips he seemed to feel again the savour of her passionate kiss, and once +again to smell the perfume of her golden hair as for that one brief, +heavenly minute she had lain next to his heart.</p> + +<p>But reality—wanton, crude, and cruel—chased this brief, happy vision +away with one cut of her swishing lash, and then brought before his eyes +that same face and form, but with wild, restless eyes, bare neck and +bosom, and with the Spaniard's hand resting masterfully<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_307" id="Page_307">[Pg 307]</a></span> on her +shoulder. And Ursula, who had watched him keenly, saw the cold, +contemptuous look in his eyes, the shudder which shook his powerful +frame as he approached her, and she even seemed actually to be touching +that stony barrier of wilful self-control, which he interposed between +himself and her.</p> + +<p>But the obeisance which he made to her was profound and full of cold +respect.</p> + +<p>"You desired to speak with me, lady?" he said. "My life, which you have +deigned to save, is entirely at your service."</p> + +<p>She had stepped down from the dais as he approached, calling upon every +fibre within her, upon every power granted to a woman who loves to touch +the heart of the loved one. Though she knew that for ever after, he and +she would henceforth be parted, her heart had so yearned for him that +vaguely she had begun to delude herself with the hope that after all +only a great misunderstanding existed between him and her, and that +before they spoke the last words of farewell their hands would meet just +once again—only as friends—only as comrades perhaps—but closely, +trustfully for all that.</p> + +<p>It was solely in this hope that she had begged for an interview.</p> + +<p>His coldness chilled her. Now that he was near her again, she once more +became conscious of that bitter feeling of awful jealousy which had +caused her the most exquisite heart-ache which a human being could be +called upon to endure. Memory brought back to her the vision of another +woman—an unknown creature whom he loved, to the destruction of his own +soul and honour.</p> + +<p>And with the advent of this memory the tender appeal died upon her lips, +and she only said in a hard, callous voice<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_308" id="Page_308">[Pg 308]</a></span>—</p> + +<p>"Is that all that Your Grace would say to me?"</p> + +<p>"Nay, indeed," he replied with the same icy calm, "there is much I ought +to say, is there not? I should tell you how grateful I am for my life, +which I owe to you. And yet I cannot even find it in my heart to say +'thank you' for so worthless a gift."</p> + +<p>"Does life then seem so bitter now that the woman you love has proved a +wanton and a coward?" she retorted vehemently.</p> + +<p>He looked at her, a little puzzled by her tone, then said quietly—</p> + +<p>"Nay! the woman I loved has proved neither a wanton nor a coward . . . +only an illusion, a sweet dream of youth and innocence, which I, poor +fool, mistook for reality."</p> + +<p>There was such an infinity of sadness, of deception, and of +life-enduring sorrow in his voice as he spoke that every motherly +instinct, never far absent from a true woman's heart, was aroused in +hers in an instant. She forgot her bitterness in the intensity of her +desire to comfort him, and she said quite gently—</p> + +<p>"You loved her very dearly, then?"</p> + +<p>"I worshipped my dream, but 'tis gone."</p> + +<p>"Already?" she asked, not understanding.</p> + +<p>And he, not comprehending, replied—</p> + +<p>"Nothing flies so quickly as an illusion when it is on the wing."</p> + +<p>Then he added more lightly—</p> + +<p>"But I pray you, do not think of that. I am grateful to you—very +grateful. Your ladyship hath deigned to send for me. What do you desire +of me? My name and protection are now at your service, and I am +ready—whenever you wish it—to fulfil the promise our fathers made on +our behalf."</p> + +<p>She drew back as if a poisoned adder had stung her.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_309" id="Page_309">[Pg 309]</a></span>At first she had not realized what he meant to say; then the intention +dawned upon her and the insult nearly knocked her down like a blow. She +could hardly speak, her own words seemed to choke her; her rich young +blood flew to her pallid cheeks and dyed them with the crimson hue of +shame.</p> + +<p>"You would . . . ?" she murmured faintly. "You thought that I . . . ? +Oh! . . ." she gasped in the infinity of her pain.</p> + +<p>But like the wounded beast when first it sees its own hurt, so did this +man now—gentle, artistic, fastidious though he was—suddenly feel every +cruel instinct of the primitive savage rise within him at the thought of +the great wrong which he believed this woman had done him. All the +latent tenderness in his heart was crushed. Manlike, he only longed now +to make her suffer one tithe of the agony which he had endured because +of her treachery. He thought that she had played with him and fooled him +in sheer wantonness, and he wished to crush her pride, her youth, her +gaiety as she had broken his life and his honour.</p> + +<p>He despised her for what she had done, and longed to let her see the +full measure of his contempt. Glad that he had succeeded in hurting her, +he tried to turn the blade within the wound.</p> + +<p>"Nay, you need have no fear, lady," he said, "the wars in France will +soon claim my presence, and the world will be quite ready to forgive to +the Duchess of Wessex the sins of Lady Ursula Glynde, especially after a +chance French arrow had made her free again."</p> + +<p>But it was the very magnitude of the insult which restored to Ursula her +self-possession, nor would she let him see now how deeply she was +wounded. With her self-control, her dignity also returned to her, and +she said with a coldness at least equal to his own<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_310" id="Page_310">[Pg 310]</a></span>—</p> + +<p>"The world has naught to forgive me, as you know best, my lord."</p> + +<p>"Nay! but I know that I must be grateful. By the mass! the story was +well concocted, and I must congratulate you, fair Bacchante!" He laughed +bitterly, ironically. "Your honour threatened! . . . my timely +interference! . . . and I who feared for the moment you might make full +confession."</p> + +<p>"Confession of what? . . . you are mad, my lord."</p> + +<p>She had drawn nearer to him, and for the first time since the +commencement of this terrible tragedy of errors, one corner of that veil +of impenetrable mystery was lifted from before her eyes. She did not +make even a remote guess at the truth as yet, but vaguely she became +aware that she and this man whom she loved were at some deadly +cross-purposes, were playing at some horrible hide-and-seek, wherein +they were staking their life and happiness. There was something in his +look which suddenly revealed to that unerring feminine instinct in her +that his bitterness, his cruelty, his insults, had their rise in a heart +overburdened with a hopeless passion. He, the most perfect gentleman, +most elegant courtier of his time, did not even try to curb his tongue, +when speaking to her, who had never wronged him, and who had nobly saved +his life, when he must <i>know</i> that she had done it out of disinterested +self-sacrifice.</p> + +<p><i>Did he know that?</i></p> + +<p>The question struck at her heart with sudden, overwhelming power. The +look of him, his whole attitude, told her in a vague, undefinable, +ununderstandable way that it was <i>herself</i> whom he loved, that he +despised her for something she had not done, and yet that he spoke of +<i>her</i> when he sighed after an illusion.</p> + +<p>"Confession of what? You are mad, my lord!" she repeated wildly.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_311" id="Page_311">[Pg 311]</a></span>"Aye! mad!" he said bitterly, "mad when I feel the magic of your eyes +stealing my honour away! . . . mad, indeed! for with a fellow-creature's +blood still warm upon that dainty hand, I long to fall on my knees and +cover it with kisses."</p> + +<p>His voice broke almost in a sob now that at last he had given utterance +to that which had weighed on his soul all these days. He loathed her +crime, yet loved her more passionately than before. Oh! eternal mystery +of the heart of man!</p> + +<p>"Blood on my hands?" she retorted violently. "You are mad, my lord . . . +mad, I say! A man's blood? . . . Did you not then kill Don Miguel to +save her whom you loved? . . . did you not suffer disgrace, prepare for +death, all because of her? . . . Did I not lie for you, give up mine +honour . . . mine all for you? . . . Is it I who am mad, my lord, or +you?"</p> + +<p>"Nay! an you will have it so, fair one," he replied, trying to steady +his voice, which still was trembling, "'tis I am mad! I'll believe +anything, doubt everything, mine eyes, mine ears . . . the memory of you +. . . as I saw you that night. . . . I'll try to remember only that I +owe you my life . . . such as it is . . . and let my senses be gladdened +at the thought that you are beautiful."</p> + +<p>Ursula watched him with wild, burning eyes. Was the truth dawning at +last? She, as the woman, was bent on knowing what lay hidden beneath the +expression of this debasing passion. He, as the man, had fought a battle +and lost; he loved her too madly, too completely to tear her out of his +life. His passion <i>had</i> become base; he despised himself now more than +he had ever despised her, but he could no longer battle against that +overpowering desire to fold her once more to his heart, to forgive and +forget all save her beauty and the magic of her presence.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_312" id="Page_312">[Pg 312]</a></span>But she, though loving as ardently as he, wanted the truth above all. +Never would she have accepted this degrading passion, which would have +left her for ever bruised and ashamed. She mustered up all her energy, +all her presence of mind; it was her turn now to fight for happiness and +for honour.</p> + +<p>Who knows what destiny fate would have meted out to these two young +people if only she had been left a free hand? Would she have brought +them together or parted them finally and for ever? The fickle jade +smiled upon them for a moment or two, then allowed a stronger hand to +lead her away into bondage.</p> + +<p>So accurately had the Cardinal de Moreno calculated his chance of final +success that he himself was able to lead the Queen of England to the +Great Hall for the approaching ceremony, at the very moment when Wessex +and Ursula were on the point of understanding one another.</p> + +<p>Ursula had just uttered an energetic and momentous—</p> + +<p>"My lord! . . ."</p> + +<p>She had stepped away from him and was looking him fearlessly in the +face, resolved to question and cross-question until she understood +everything, when the door was suddenly opened and Mary Tudor appeared, +escorted by some of her ladies, and accompanied by His Eminence the +Spanish envoy.</p> + +<p>It was the stroke of a relentless sword across the Gordian knot which +she had sought to unravel. She had only just made up her mind to stake +her all upon a final throw of the dice—an explanation with Wessex. He +was still completely deceived. She could see that what she already more +than guessed he had not even begun to suspect. The idea of a gigantic +misunderstanding had not yet entered his brain; she would have brought +it before him, made him understand. . . . And fate suddenly said, No!</p> + +<p>Fate, or that cruel hand which pulled the strings that<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_313" id="Page_313">[Pg 313]</a></span> brought all +puppets forward on this momentous stage? The Cardinal had darted a +quick, anxious look on Wessex and then had smiled with satisfaction. +Ursula caught both look and smile, and also that sudden hardening of the +Cardinal's clever face, and knew that her last chance had gone.</p> + +<p>Wessex had seemed relieved when the Queen entered, and Ursula knew that +never again would she be allowed to see him alone, never again would she +be able to speak to him undisturbed.</p> + +<p>"Nothing flies more quickly than an illusion when it is on the wing!"</p> + +<p>Nothing! . . . save happiness . . . when it begins to slip slowly away, +and tired hands are too weak to retain it.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_314" id="Page_314">[Pg 314]</a></span></p> + +<h2 class="newchapter"><a name="CHAPTER_XXXIX" id="CHAPTER_XXXIX"></a>CHAPTER XXXIX<br /> +<span class="smalltext">A FORLORN HOPE</span></h2> + + +<p>The Great Hall had quickly filled with ladies and gentlemen. Mary Tudor +had rapidly approached the dais, holding out one gracious hand to Wessex +and vouchsafing but a cold, callous look to Ursula Glynde, who, like +some young, wounded fawn, seemed to be standing at bay, facing this +crowd of indifferent spectators who had literally come between her and +her happiness.</p> + +<p>It seemed as if Mary felt a cruel delight in bringing before the young +girl's notice the hopelessness of her position, the irreparability of +the breach which existed now between her and His Grace of Wessex.</p> + +<p>The Queen's jealous eyes had already noted the cold salutation with +which Wessex so readily left Ursula's side, in order to turn to the +new-comers. His Grace was evidently glad to see the end of a painful +interview, and Mary was too weak a woman not to rejoice at sight of the +heartache which was expressed in Ursula's pallid face, and not to try to +enhance the pain of the wound.</p> + +<p>Therefore when Wessex respectfully kissed her hand she kept him close +beside her, whispering tender words which she hoped her rival might +hear.</p> + +<p>"It seems like a beautiful dream, my lord," she said gently, "to see you +once more at our Court. The ugly nightmare is over, and I am almost +happy."</p> + +<p>"I humbly thank Your Majesty," replied the Duke. "My whole life can +henceforth be spent in expressing<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_315" id="Page_315">[Pg 315]</a></span> my gratitude for a graciousness, +which I so little deserve."</p> + +<p>"Nay! I pray you to put us to the test, my dear lord. My heart aches +with the desire to grant your every whim."</p> + +<p>"Then I beg of Your Majesty a command in France."</p> + +<p>"You wish to leave me?" said Mary with tender reproach.</p> + +<p>"I hope to save Calais for Your Majesty's crown."</p> + +<p>"Ah, my lord! I have more need of friends just now than cities! Whilst +you go to France your Queen will wed King Philip of Spain."</p> + +<p>"I hope not, Your Majesty," he rejoined earnestly.</p> + +<p>"The letter of acceptance for my royal master already bears Her +Majesty's signature," here interposed the Cardinal blandly.</p> + +<p>"Aye! I have pledged my royal word," added the Queen with a short sigh. +"His Eminence hath served us well and . . ."</p> + +<p>She made an effort to steady her voice, and avoided meeting the anxious +look which Wessex had cast upon her.</p> + +<p>"But we will not mar the happiness of this joyous day," she continued +after a while, speaking with enforced cheerfulness. "My Lord High +Steward here would desire our confirmation of the free pardon granted in +honour of it, to all who were awaiting trial."</p> + +<p>"If Your Majesty will deign to append the royal signature," said Lord +Chandois, who was fingering a large document.</p> + +<p>"With pleasure, my lord. Are there many awaiting trial?"</p> + +<p>Lord Chandois spread the document out on the table, and Mary Tudor +prepared to sign it.</p> + +<p>"A dozen or so, Your Majesty," explained the Lord<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_316" id="Page_316">[Pg 316]</a></span> High Steward; "men +and women accused of roguery, witchcraft, and vagabondage."</p> + +<p>With a bold stroke of her pen Mary added her royal name to the +declaration of a free pardon.</p> + +<p>"Let them be set free," she said, while Lord Chandois once more took +possession of the paper. "It is our royal desire that these poor louts +should thank His Grace of Wessex for their liberty, which they owe to +him."</p> + +<p>Once more she turned with her usual affectionate gentleness towards the +Duke. Throughout this brief, seemingly indifferent scene, Ursula had +stood by, like an image carved in stone.</p> + +<p>Etiquette forbade her retirement until the Queen granted her leave, and +Mary seemed desirous to keep her close at hand, as a contrast, perhaps, +to the exuberant joy which prevailed among the other ladies and +gentlemen there.</p> + +<p>In the midst of all this merriment and gaiety, the hubbub of many +voices, the pleasant laughter and lively banter, two silent figures +stood out in strange contrast. Ursula, rigid, ghostlike in her white +draperies, her young face expressive of hopeless despair and of deadly +sorrow kept in check, lest indifferent eyes read its miserable tale; and +Wessex, moving like an automaton among his friends, answering at random, +trying with all his might to keep his thoughts from straying, his eyes +from wandering, towards that beautiful statue, which now seemed like an +exquisite carven monument of his own vanished happiness.</p> + +<p>No one took much notice of Ursula Glynde, she was the disgraced +maid-of-honour, the fallen star, scarce worth beholding, and she was +glad of this isolation, which the selfishness of her former friends +created around her. She looked for the last time upon the pomp and +pageant of this glittering Court life; her very soul yearned for<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_317" id="Page_317">[Pg 317]</a></span> the +peace and seclusion of austere convent walls. For the last time too she +looked upon the man on whom she had lavished all the tenderness of her +romantic temperament, whom she had set up on a pedestal of chivalry from +which she felt loath even now to dethrone him.</p> + +<p>She could see that he suffered and that he did not understand. The +misunderstanding, which nothing could clear up now, still made a veil of +darkness before his eyes. Her tender heart ached for him, her soul went +out to him amidst all these people who laughed and chatted around her. +For one brief moment their eyes met across a sea of indifferent +faces—his lighted up with all the ardour of a never-fading passionate +love, and hers spoke to him an eternal farewell.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_318" id="Page_318">[Pg 318]</a></span></p> + +<h2 class="newchapter"><a name="CHAPTER_XL" id="CHAPTER_XL"></a>CHAPTER XL<br /> +<span class="smalltext">POOR MIRRAB</span></h2> + + +<p>A few moments later the whole gay and giddy throng, like a flight of +brilliantly hued butterflies, had fluttered out into the garden.</p> + +<p>The wintry sun was bestowing its last cold kiss on the terraces and +bosquets of the park. Beyond, the landscape—wrapped in a delicate haze +of purple—was gently swooning in the arms of this November afternoon. +All bird-song was silent, save the harsh chirrup of aggressive sparrows +and the occasional brisk note of an irrepressible robin.</p> + +<p>Close by the fountain a strange, dull group moved about somewhat +listlessly—men and women, a dozen or so, in faded or ragged worsted +mantles, shoes through which the flesh appeared, and mud-stained, +bedraggled hose. Truly a wondrous spectacle on the delicately gravelled +paths of the regal residence! a remarkable picture against the majestic +background of carefully trimmed hedges, or conventional, well-cared-for +shrubberies.</p> + +<p>They looked indifferently round them, these poor shreds of society—the +happy recipients of unlooked-for royal bounty. There were all sorts and +conditions of men and women here, from the wrinkly-visaged hag who plied +a precarious trade in illicit goods, to the hardened, sullen lout who +made of Her Majesty's prisons an habitual home. A vagrant too here and +there—one boy, barely<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_319" id="Page_319">[Pg 319]</a></span> in his teens, with pinched, haggard features, on +which starvation had already scribbled her ugly name; a young girl, with +bold, dark eyes, and coarse face masked with glaring cosmetics; and, far +in the remote background, a huddled-up figure of a woman in tawdry +finery, with a torn, bedraggled white dress ill concealing her naked +shoulders, a few scraps of faded ivy-leaves still clinging to her +bright-hued, matted hair.</p> + +<p>They were astonished to find themselves here: made curious, senseless +jokes about the marble basin, the trimmed shrubs, the fish in the ponds. +The whole thing was a puzzle, and poverty and hunger had dulled all joy +in them. They had been told that by the Queen's desire and at His Grace +of Wessex' prayer, they were to be immune from punishment for their +present offences, and a vague, dull wonder as to the meaning of this +unexpected clemency filled their benighted souls. They were at liberty, +inasmuch as no man-at-arms actually dogged their footsteps, but they +felt the eyes of stern guardians, court lackeys, or park-keepers fixed +unrelentingly upon them.</p> + +<p>So they did not take special advantage of this so-called freedom, nor of +the permission to roam about at will in Her Majesty's own garden. They +clung together in one compact group, feeling a certain strength in this +union of their common misery, and stared open-mouthed at what was +nearest to them and required least effort of the brain to understand.</p> + +<p>When at a given moment they saw a number of rich lords and ladies emerge +upon the distant terrace, they felt wholly terrified, and would have +beaten a quick and general retreat had not one of the royal servitors +suddenly called upon them severally to listen.</p> + +<p>"His Grace the Duke of Wessex is coming to speak with ye!" said this +gorgeously apparelled personage, addressing the massed group of +miserable humanity.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_320" id="Page_320">[Pg 320]</a></span> "Stay ye all here, until His Grace arrives. Your +good behaviour may prove for your own good."</p> + +<p>And silently, dully, they obeyed. They ceased their aimless wanderings +and concentrated their attention after a while upon a tall figure, +dressed in rich black, which had detached itself from the brilliant +groups on the terrace and was walking rapidly towards them.</p> + +<p>So that was His Grace the Duke of Wessex. A serious-minded gentleman, +surely, but lately accused of murder, and proved to be innocent. They +could not yet see his face, only his tall, robust figure moving swiftly +towards them. Strange that a noble duke, a rich and great lord, should +wish to speak with them. The women, as if half ashamed of their ragged +kirtles, had retreated behind the men. The latter had doffed their caps +and were mechanically passing their thin fingers through their tangled +hair.</p> + +<p>Quite in the rear the female figure in the bedraggled white gown cowered +against the edge of the marble basin.</p> + +<p>Then gradually His Grace came nearer, the women ventured to peep at him +over the shoulders of the men. His face looked kind, though very sad. +The poor people gathered up their courage to face him bravely since he +came all unattended amongst them. One or two of the younger lads +ventured as he approached to utter an humble—</p> + +<p>"God save His Grace of Wessex!"</p> + +<p>"I thank you all," he said graciously. "And now, my friends, I'd have +you believe that 'twas not idle curiosity which hath brought me here +beside you. But yesterday I stood like you, accused of offence against +the law of the land. I have known the sorrows and humiliations of a +public trial. By Her Majesty's grace you have escaped that trouble this +time, and I have it at heart that all of you who, like myself, have +passed through prison doors should not again be tempted to break the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_321" id="Page_321">[Pg 321]</a></span> +dictates of your lawgivers. Hunger and sorrow are evil councillors. +Though I know naught of the one I'd have you think sometimes of me as +one who has tasted of the bitter cup of sorrow, and thus thinking, I'd +have you pray to God for mercy on my soul and on that of one who is more +sinful, more misguided than yourselves."</p> + +<p>It was a strange little homily, thus delivered without any affectation +by this high-born gentleman to his fellows in sorrow. They did not +perhaps altogether understand him, but in his own quaint way he had +appealed to a comradeship of misery, and the hearts of his hearers went +out to him in a vague feeling of pity and reverence.</p> + +<p>They had no need to call for "largesse," for with his own hand he was +already distributing gold to those from whom he had asked prayers.</p> + +<p>"God save Your Grace!" muttered men and women, as one by one their rough +palms closed over the munificent donations.</p> + +<p>The ladies and gentlemen on the terrace had all watched this little +scene from afar. After a while the curiosity of all these gay idlers was +still further aroused. Some of them wished to watch it a little more +closely, and began slowly strolling down the terrace steps, towards the +quaint group made up of all these miserable vagrants surrounding the +imposing, sable-clad figure of the Duke.</p> + +<p>The Queen herself, attracted by the novelty of the spectacle, and her +heart ever yearning for the near presence of the man she still loved so +dearly, turned her steps towards the marble basin, with His Eminence the +Cardinal—ever a faithful attendant—by her side.</p> + +<p>When Mary Tudor, closely followed by some of her ladies and courtiers, +thus reached the scene where the little drama was being enacted, they +saw His Grace standing somewhat irresolutely beside the huddled figure +of a woman, whose tawdry drapings and matted, brilliant hair<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_322" id="Page_322">[Pg 322]</a></span> presented +a strange contrast to the dull greys and browns of the other people +around her.</p> + +<p>"Wilt thou not hold thy hand out to me, wench," His Grace was saying +somewhat impatiently. "I would fain help thee, as it hath pleased Heaven +I should help thy companions in misfortune."</p> + +<p>The servitor who had stood close by all this while, lest the people +prove too importunate or troublesome, now came up to the woman, and, +less benevolently inclined than His Grace, he caught hold of her, +somewhat rudely, by the shoulder.</p> + +<p>"Come, wench, wake up!" he said roughly, "think thou His Grace hath more +time to waste on thee? She seems somewhat daft, so please Your Grace," +added the man with a shrug of the shoulders, "and hath not spoken since +her arrest."</p> + +<p>"Who is she?"</p> + +<p>"Some vagrant or worse, so please Your Grace. She was arrested a +fortnight ago, and hath never been heard to utter one word."</p> + +<p>"Wilt look up, wench?" said Wessex gently.</p> + +<p>"I dare not," murmured the woman under her breath.</p> + +<p>"Dare not? Why? I'll not harm thee."</p> + +<p>"'Tis I have wronged thee so."</p> + +<p>Wessex laughed lightly. Clearly the poor wretch was demented, but he +would have liked to have put some money into her own hand, lest some +unscrupulous person should rob her of his gift. Therefore he said as +kindly as he could—</p> + +<p>"I forgive thee gladly any wrong thou mayst have done me, and now wilt +look at me in token that thou'rt no more afraid?"</p> + +<p>There was silence for a few moments. The poor people, happy with the +rich gifts in their hands, scared too by the presence of so many lords +and ladies, among whom<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_323" id="Page_323">[Pg 323]</a></span> they, however, had not yet recognized the Queen, +all retreated into the background, leaving Wessex and the strange woman +alone and isolated from their own groups, his rich black doublet and +fine mantle and plumes contrasting strangely against the dank, +mud-bespattered white dress of the unfortunate vagrant.</p> + +<p>What a quaint picture did they present—these two, whose destinies had +been so closely knit. No one spoke, for every one felt that curious, +unexplainable awe which falls upon the spirit of every man and woman +when in the presence of an unfathomable mystery. And that mystery, every +one felt it. The woman's voice had such a solemn ring in it when she +said, "'Tis I have wronged thee so."</p> + +<p>In the very midst of this awed silence the woman suddenly threw back her +head, brushed the hair back from her face, and looked straight into the +eyes of the Duke.</p> + +<p>She was wan and pale with hunger, smears of mud spoilt the beauty of her +features, but there was a look even now in that face which made Wessex +recoil with horror. He did not utter a word, but gazed on as if a +ghostly vision had suddenly appeared before him and was mocking him with +its terrifying aspects.</p> + +<p>Grinning monsters seemed to surround that girlish figure before him, +pointing with claw-like fingers at the golden hair, the delicate +straight nose, the childish mouth. As in a hellish panorama he suddenly +saw the whole hideousness of the mistake which had wrecked his life's +happiness, and half dazed, helpless, he gazed on as upon the risen +spectre of his past.</p> + +<p>A murmur close behind him broke the spell of this magic moment.</p> + +<p>"So like the Lady Ursula," whispered one lady to her gallant.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_324" id="Page_324">[Pg 324]</a></span>But the name seemed to have reached the woman's dulled ears, and to have +struck upon a sensitive fibre of her intellect.</p> + +<p>"Ursula again!" she said vehemently, turning now to face the group of +the elegant ladies who stood staring at her. "Why do you all plague me +with that name? . . . I am Mirrab, the soothsayer . . . I've been taught +to read the secrets of the stars, of the waters, the air, and the winds; +I foretell the future and brew the elixir of life. Wessex saved my life! +'tis his!—I read in the stars that he was in great danger and came to +warn him!"</p> + +<p>Her apathy had totally deserted her now. She was gradually working +herself up to a fever of excitement, talking more and more wildly, and +letting her eyes roam restlessly on the brilliant groups before her—the +ladies, the courtiers . . . the Queen. . . .</p> + +<p>Then they alighted upon the Cardinal de Moreno, who, pale to the lips, +strove in vain to smother the growing agitation which had mastered him +from the moment when he too first recognized Mirrab. Her passion at +sight of him now turned to fury, and, pointing a vengeful finger at him, +she shouted wildly—</p> + +<p>"'Twas he who tricked and fooled me . . . with smooth and lying tongue +he cajoled me! . . . he and his friend . . . then they threatened to +have me whipped . . . if I did not depart in peace!"</p> + +<p>Awed, horrified, every one listened. Mary Tudor herself hung upon the +girl's lips. The Cardinal made a final effort to preserve his outward +composure.</p> + +<p>"A madwoman!" he murmured with a shrug of the shoulders. "Your Majesty +would do well to retire; there's danger in the creature's eyes."</p> + +<p>But Wessex was slowly coming to himself. His horror had vanished, +leaving him calm before this terrible revelation. With the privilege +ever accorded to him by<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_325" id="Page_325">[Pg 325]</a></span> the fond Queen, he now placed a firm hand upon +her arm.</p> + +<p>"In the name of Your Majesty's ever-present graciousness to me, I +entreat you to listen to this woman," he said quietly. "Meseems that +some dastardly trick hath been played upon us all."</p> + +<p>The Cardinal tried to protest, but already Mary had acquiesced in +Wessex' wish, with a nod of the head.</p> + +<p>"I have naught to refuse you, my dear lord," she said sadly.</p> + +<p>Vaguely she too had begun to guess the appalling riddle which had +puzzled her for so long, and though her heart dimly felt that she was +even now losing for ever the man whom she so ardently loved, she was too +fearless a Queen, too much of a proud Tudor, not to see justice done in +the face of so much treachery.</p> + +<p>Then Wessex once more turned to Mirrab.</p> + +<p>"Tell me, girl," he said with utmost calm and gentleness, lest he should +scare again her poor, wandering wits, "tell me without any fear. . . . I +am the Duke of Wessex and I saved thy life . . . then thou hadst the +wish to warn me of some danger . . . and came to the Palace here . . . +and my lord Cardinal tricked thee. . . . How?"</p> + +<p>"I do not know," she said piteously, turning appealing, dog-like eyes +upon him. "They dressed me up in fine clothes . . . and then . . . then +. . . when I saw thee . . . and wished to speak with thee . . . he . . . +the dark foreigner barred the way . . . and I know not how it happened +. . ." she added, as a trembling suddenly seized her whole body, "he +jeered at me . . . and . . . and I killed him!"</p> + +<p>"'Twas thou, wench, who killed Don Miguel?" ejaculated the Queen, +horrified. "Oh! . . ."</p> + +<p>But Wessex only bent his head and murmured in the intensity of his +misery<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_326" id="Page_326">[Pg 326]</a></span>—</p> + +<p>"Heaven above me! . . . that I should have been so blind!"</p> + +<p>"I killed him . . ." repeated Mirrab with strange persistence, "I killed +him . . . he would not let me go to thee."</p> + +<p>"A madwoman and a wanton," here protested the Cardinal with all the +vigour at his command. "Surely Your Majesty will not believe this +miserable creature's calumnies."</p> + +<p>"No, my lord," replied Mary with quiet dignity, "we'll believe nothing +until we have heard what Lady Ursula Glynde has to say. Lady Alicia," +she added, turning to one of her maids-of-honour, "I pray you find the +Lady Ursula. Tell her what has happened and bid her come to us."</p> + +<p>In the meanwhile, however, Mirrab seemed to have become aware of the +consequences of her vehement confession. Her wandering wits came slowly +back to her. Terrified, she looked from one to the other of the grave +faces which were fixed upon her.</p> + +<p>"What will they do to me?" she murmured, turning appealing eyes on the +one man whom she dared to trust.</p> + +<p>"Nay, Mirrab, have no fear," said Wessex kindly, as he took her rough +hands in his and tried to soothe her scared spirits with a gentle touch. +"Once by chance I saved thy life . . . but thou in return hast now +restored to me that which is far dearer than life itself. I am eternally +thy debtor, Mirrab, and I pledge thee the honour of Wessex that no harm +shall come to thee . . . for I myself will beg for thy pardon of Her +Majesty on my knees."</p> + +<p>"Nay, my lord," rejoined Mary Tudor earnestly, for he had turned to the +Queen, prepared to proffer his request on his knees, "meseems a grievous +wrong has been done to you—if unwittingly—by your Queen and country.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_327" id="Page_327">[Pg 327]</a></span> +Let the wench be free to pray to the Holy Virgin for her great sin. I +myself will care for her, and she shall enter any convent she may +choose, and be honoured there as if she had brought with her the richest +dowry in the land. But," she added, turning to Lord Chandois, "I desire +her to make full confession once more before you, my lord, in writing, +and to swear to it and sign it with her name. You may go, wench," she +said finally, turning to Mirrab, "your Queen has pardoned you. May you +be happy in the peace of the convent. We will never forget you, and ever +see that joy shall always be in your life."</p> + +<p>Slowly, as the Queen spoke, Mirrab sank upon her knees. It seemed to the +poor girl as if God's angels were whispering words of comfort in her +ear. Two servitors now came close to her, ready to lead her back to the +Palace, there to place her under the charge of waiting-women until her +confession had been duly written and sworn to.</p> + +<p>But before she finally allowed herself to be led away she once more +turned to Wessex.</p> + +<p>"May I kiss thy hand?" she murmured gently.</p> + +<p>He gave her his hand, and she covered it with kisses, and then she +passed out of his life, ever remembered by him, ever comforted, happy in +the peaceful and silent home which the Queen had so royally provided for +her.</p> + +<p>But this little interlude had roused the Cardinal's feverish impatience +to boiling point. Already he had tortured his astute brain for some sort +of issue out of this tangled web. He would not own a defeat so readily, +certainly not before he made a final struggle to reassert the dignity of +his position. He forced his face to express nothing but delicate irony, +his eyes not to betray the slightest hint of fear.</p> + +<p>"Truly, this is somewhat curious justice," he said, as Mirrab's strange +figure disappeared behind a turn of the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_328" id="Page_328">[Pg 328]</a></span> tall yew hedge, "surely Your +Majesty will not condemn unheard? . . ."</p> + +<p>"No, my lord Cardinal, not unheard," retorted Mary Tudor haughtily. "We +have seen strange things to-day, and can only guess at the terrible +tangle which caused the first gentleman in England to take upon himself +the burden of a heinous crime."</p> + +<p>"And no doubt," added Wessex, "that His Eminence can solve the riddle of +how a pure and noble girl was led into sacrificing her honour."</p> + +<p>"Nay!" retorted the Cardinal bitingly, "His Grace of Wessex is more +competent than I to solve the riddle of a woman's heart. The Lady Ursula +has confessed; this trick of trying to disprove her tale," he added with +cutting sarcasm, "was well thought on by the most chivalrous gentleman +in England. . . . An it satisfies His Grace," he continued with a +careless shrug of the shoulders, "surely I could never wish to dispel so +pleasant an illusion."</p> + +<p>Perhaps the Duke would have retorted in angry words, despite the +unutterable contempt which he felt for this final poisoned shaft aimed +at him by the Cardinal; but just then the groups which surrounded him, +the Queen and His Eminence, parted, and Ursula Glynde stood before them +all.</p> + +<p>She still wore the white robes which became her so well, but now they +only helped to enhance the brilliancy of her hair, the clear blue of her +eyes, and a certain rosy flush, which lent to her delicate face a +delicious air of childishness and innocence. She looked at no one, +though her eyes were actually fixed respectfully on the Queen, but her +spirit seemed to have wandered off into a land of dreams.</p> + +<p>"Your Majesty sent for me?" she said.</p> + +<p>"Lady Alicia has told you?" rejoined the Queen.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_329" id="Page_329">[Pg 329]</a></span>Ursula closed her glorious eyes. A ray of intense joy seemed to illumine +her whole face, lighting it with a radiance which surely had its origin +in heaven. Then she slowly turned her head towards Wessex, and in one +little word told him all that her soul contained.</p> + +<p>"Everything!" she said.</p> + +<p>Everything! that is to say, his sin, his mistrust of her, his great +passionate love, and self-sacrifice for her. Everything! which meant her +own love, her own devotion, her joy to find him true and chivalrous, her +happiness and her hope.</p> + +<p>Mary Tudor saw the look and its response from Wessex' eyes. She saw the +end of the one dream which had filled her dull, rigid life and rendered +it hopeful and bright. But she was above all a Tudor. She accepted the +dictate of Fate, she bent the neck to a greater will than her own, and +closed the book of her illusions, never to peruse its pages again. One +last look at the man who had had the one passion of which her strange +hard heart was capable, one short farewell to the vague hope, which +until now would not be gainsaid.</p> + +<p>From now and to the end of her days she would be Queen alone—the woman +lay buried amongst the autumn leaves which strewed the walks of old +Hampton Court Palace.</p> + +<p>As Queen now she once more turned to Ursula. Justice in her demanded +that every wrong should be righted, every misdoer punished.</p> + +<p>"Child," she said quietly, "it was not you then who was with Don +Miguel?"</p> + +<p>"No, Your Majesty," replied Ursula, returning to earth at sound of the +Queen's kindly voice, "Lady Alicia tells me that a girl . . . a poor, +sad girl, was in face so like to me . . . that His Grace must have been +mistaken . . . and . . ."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_330" id="Page_330">[Pg 330]</a></span>"But, child . . . then why have told a lie? . . ."</p> + +<p>"His Eminence told me what to say before the Court, and promised His +Grace would be saved by it."</p> + +<p>Her voice dropped to so low a murmur that no one heard it but the Queen +. . . and Wessex.</p> + +<p>"I did it to save him!"</p> + +<p>"A lie, Your Majesty," protested the Cardinal.</p> + +<p>"The truth!" protested Ursula loudly. "I pray Your Majesty to look on me +and him and see on whose face is writ the word—fear."</p> + +<p>Almost as if in obedience to Ursula's words Mary Tudor turned and faced +the Spanish Cardinal. He tried to meet her look boldly. Even in defeat +there was a certain grandeur in this man.</p> + +<p>He had staked and lost his own position, his future career, his hopes of +a greater destiny, but he had succeeded in his schemes. He knew Mary +Tudor well enough to rejoice in this—that she would never now break her +word to Philip, even though she let the flood of her royal wrath fall +full heavily upon him.</p> + +<p>"Go back, my lord, to your royal master," said Queen Mary with lofty +contempt. "My word is my bond, and my pledge to him is sacred; but tell +him, an he wishes to win the heart of the Queen of England, he must send +an honest man to woo her."</p> + +<p>Then without another glance at him, without looking to see if he +followed her or not, she beckoned to her ladies and gentlemen, her +attendants and her courtiers, and, without once turning her royal head +towards the spot where had died her happiness, she walked firmly in the +direction of her Palace.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_331" id="Page_331">[Pg 331]</a></span></p> + +<h2 class="newchapter"><a name="CHAPTER_XLI" id="CHAPTER_XLI"></a>CHAPTER XLI<br /> +<span class="smalltext">THE END</span></h2> + + +<p>And now every one had gone.</p> + +<p>The wintry sun was already sinking towards the west, faint purple +shadows wrapped the alleys and bosquets of the park in dim and ghostly +arms.</p> + +<p>The last call of a belated robin broke the silence of the gathering +dusk, then it too was silenced, and only the "hush—sh—sh—sh" of +fallen leaves on the gravelled path murmured a soft accompaniment to the +music of the night.</p> + +<p>A man and a woman were alone beside the marble basin, face to face, eye +to eye, yet finding not one word to say. Both had so much to atone for, +so much to forgive, that mere words were but the poor expression of all +that filled their hearts.</p> + +<p>The moments sped on—a few brief seconds or an eternity, who can say +which?</p> + +<p>The shadows merged one in the other. Far away the river murmured gently.</p> + +<p>Now Wessex had sunk on his knees, and she bent down to him.</p> + +<p>All the birds had gone to rest; one by one, pale winter stars peeped +down upon the gorgeous Palace, the majestic pile which had seen so many +glories, hidden so many miseries, one by one they peeped down on the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_332" id="Page_332">[Pg 332]</a></span> +silent park, the mysterious river, the ghostly outlines of walls and +cupolas.</p> + +<p>But beside the marble basin two human hearts had found one another, soul +had gone out to soul at last, and Ursula lay once more in the arms of +her future lord.</p> + +<p class="theend">PLYMOUTH<br /> +W BRENDON AND SON, LTD., PRINTERS</p> + +<hr class="wide" /> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>Transcriber's Note: The majority of the text of this novel is taken from +<i>The Tangled Skein</i>, the British edition. Some missing pages were taken +from the American edition, titled <i>In Mary's Reign</i>: the text in Chapter +VI, from "attempting to move, for she felt as if her knees would give +way under her" to the end of the chapter, and from "conversation carried +on in whispers" in Chapter XXXIV to "draw it from thee?" in Chapter +XXXV, was taken from the American edition. The illustrations in this +electronic text were also taken from <i>In Mary's Reign</i>.</p> + +<p>In addition, the following typographical errors present in the original +text were corrected.</p> + +<p>In Chapter I, "a hunch of buck" was changed to "a haunch of buck".</p> + +<p>In Chapter VI, "swords and poinards" was changed to "swords and +poniards".</p> + +<p>In Chapter IX, "Tis false!" was changed to "'Tis false!".</p> + +<p>In Chapter XI, "You wont be angry with me?" was changed to "You won't be +angry with me?"</p> + +<p>In Chapter XIII, "partly of sarcasm, wholly of insousiance" was changed +to "partly of sarcasm, wholly of insouciance".</p> + +<p>In Chapter XV, a missing quotation mark was added after "Your Grace. +. . ."</p> + +<p>In Chapter XVII, "his latest flame? . . . ." was changed to "his latest +flame? . . .", "Your Eminence. . . ." was changed to "Your Eminence +. . .", "but. . . ." was changed to "but . . .", and a period was +changed to a question mark after "we have the same object in view".</p> + +<p>In Chapter XIX, "An interview. . . ." was changed to "An interview +. . .", "since you wish it. . . ." was changed to "since you wish it +. . .", "dastardly trick. . . ." was changed to "dastardly trick . . .", +and "Noother consideration" was changed to "No other consideration".</p> + +<p>In Chapter XXVI, "vaugely hoping" was changed to "vaguely hoping".</p> + +<p>In Chapter XXVII, a missing period was added after "this dastardly +trick".</p> + +<p>In Chapter XXIX, "In the court. . . ." was changed to "In the court +. . ."</p> + +<p>In Chapter XXX, "commited excesses of unparalleled cruelty" was changed +to "committed excesses of unparalleled cruelty".</p> + +<p>In Chapter XXXIII, "so full of bevenolence" was changed to "so full of +benevolence", and "having proved Robert D'Esclade" was changed to +"having proved Robert d'Esclade".</p> + +<p>In Chapter XXXIX, "a graciousnesss, which I so little deserve" was +changed to "a graciousness, which I so little deserve". and a missing +period was added after "all who were awaiting trial".</p></div> + + + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's The Tangled Skein, by Emmuska Orczy, Baroness Orczy + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE TANGLED SKEIN *** + +***** This file should be named 37481-h.htm or 37481-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/3/7/4/8/37481/ + +Produced by Steven desJardins and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This book was +produced from scanned images of public domain material +from the Google Print project.) + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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