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diff --git a/44115.txt b/44115.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 4909421..0000000 --- a/44115.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,9609 +0,0 @@ - LADY SYBIL'S CHOICE - - - - -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 http://www.gutenberg.org/license. - - - -Title: Lady Sybil's Choice - A Tale of the Crusades -Author: Emily Sarah Holt -Release Date: November 05, 2013 [EBook #44115] -Language: English -Character set encoding: US-ASCII - - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK LADY SYBIL'S CHOICE *** - - - - -Produced by Al Haines. - - - - -[Illustration: Cover art] - - - - -[Illustration: "Down the nave Sybil came.... It was evident that she -knew perfectly well where he stood who was to wear the crown." P. 317] - - - - - _Lady Sybil's Choice_ - - _A Tale of the Crusades_ - - - BY - - EMILY SARAH HOLT - - AUTHOR OF "MISTRESS MARGERY," "SISTER ROSE," ETC. - - - -"This Tale in ancient Chronicle,-- - In wording old and quaint, -In classic language of the past, - In letters pale and faint,-- -This tale is told. Yet once again - Let it be told to-day-- -The old, old tale of woman's love, - Which lasteth on for aye." - - - - _NEW EDITION_ - - - - LONDON - JOHN F. SHAW AND CO. - 48 PATERNOSTER ROW - 1879 - - - - - *PREFACE.* - - -"Why, seeing times are not hidden from the Almighty, do they that know -Him, not see His days?" - -From the earliest ages of the world, the needs-be of suffering has been -a mystery. Down to the latest, it will be a mystery still. Truly, the -more we "know Him," the less mystery it is to us: for even where we -cannot see, we can trust His love. Yet there are human analogies, which -may throw some faint light on the dark question: and one of these will -be found in the following pages. "What I do, thou knowest not -now"--sometimes because it is morally impossible,--our finite capacity -could not hold it: but sometimes, too, because we could not be trusted -with the knowledge. In their case, there is one thing we can do--wait. -"O thou of little faith!--_wherefore_ didst thou doubt?" - - "Oh restful, blissful ignorance! - 'Tis blessed not to know. - It keeps me still in those kind arms - Which will not let me go, - And hushes my soul to rest - On the bosom that loves me so! - - "So I go on, not knowing,-- - I would not, if I might. - I would rather walk in the dark with God - Than walk alone in the light; - I would rather walk with Him by faith, - Than walk alone by sight. - - "My heart shrinks back from trials - Which the future may disclose; - Yet I never had a sorrow - But what the dear Lord chose: - So I send the coming tears back - With the whispered word, 'He knows!'" - - - - - *CONTENTS.* - -CHAP. - - I. GUY TAKES THE CROSS - II. TWO SURPRISES FOR ELAINE - III. ALL IS NOT GOLD THAT GLITTERS - IV. A JOURNEY--AND THE END OF IT - V. CURIOUS NOTIONS - VI. THE PERVERSITY OF PEOPLE - VII. A LITTLE CLOUD OUT OF THE SEA - VIII. AS GOOD AS MOST PEOPLE - IX. ELAINE FINDS MORE THAN SHE EXPECTED - X. PREPARING FOR THE STRUGGLE - XI. THE CALM BEFORE THE STORM - XII. WILL SHE GIVE HIM UP? - XIII. WAITING FOR THE INEVITABLE - XIV. SYBIL'S CHOICE - - - - - *LADY SYBIL'S CHOICE* - - - - *CHAPTER I.* - - _*GUY TAKES THE CROSS*_*.* - - - "But what are words, and what am I? - An infant crying in the night; - An infant crying for the light; - And with no language but a cry." - --TENNYSON. - - -Alix says I am a simpleton. I don't think it is particularly pleasant. -Sometimes she says I am a perfect simpleton: and I cannot say that I -like that any better. Nor do I think that it is very civil in one's -sister to put her opinion on record in this certainly perspicuous, but -not at all complimentary manner. Still, I have heard her say it so many -times that I might almost have come to believe it, if she did not say so -of anybody but me. But when--as she did this morning--she says Guy is a -simpleton, that I cannot stand with any patience. Because there is -nobody like Guy in all the world. He is the best, kindest, dearest -brother that ever a girl had or could have. And it is a shame of Alix -to say such things. I am sure of it.[#] - - -[#] The brothers in this family are historical persons; the sisters -fictitious. - - -I do not know how it is, but Alix seems vexed that I should like Guy -best of all my brothers. She says I ought to make companions of Amaury -and Raoul, who are nearer me in age. But is that any reason for liking -people? At that rate, I ought to love Alix least of all, because she is -furthest off. And--though I should not like her to know that I said -so--I am not at all sure that I don't. - -Being like you in character, it seems to me, is a much better reason for -choosing companions, than being near you in age. And I think Guy is -much more like me than Amaury or Raoul either. They don't care for the -same things that I do, and Guy does. Now, how can you like a man's -company when you can never agree with him? - -Alix says my tastes--and, of course, Guy's--are very silly. I believe -she thinks there is no sense in anything but spinning and cooking and -needlework. But I think Amaury and Raoul are quite as foolish as we are. -Amaury admires everything that shines and glitters, and he is not at all -particular whether it is gold or brass. I believe, this minute, he -knows more about samite, and damask, and velvet, than I do. You would -think the world was coming to an end by the wail he sets up if his cap -has a feather less than he intended, or the border of his tunic is done -in green instead of yellow. Is that like being a man? Guillot says -Amaury should have been a woman, but I think he should have stayed a -baby. Then Raoul cares for things that bang and clash. In his eyes, -everybody ought to be a soldier, and no tale is worth hearing if it be -not about a tournament or the taking of a city. - -Now I do think Guy and I have more sense. What we love to hear is of -deeds really noble,--of men that have saved their city or their country -at the risk of their own lives; of a mother that has sacrificed herself -for her child; of a lady who was ready to see her true knight die rather -than stain his honour. When we were little children at old Marguerite's -knee, and she used to tell us tales as a reward when we had been -good,--and who ever knew half so many stories as dear old -Marguerite?--while Raoul always wanted a bloody battle, and Amaury a -royal pageant, and Alix what she called something practical--which, so -far as I could see, meant something that was not interesting--and -Guillot, he said, "Something all boys, with no girls in it"--the stories -Guy and I liked were just those which our dear old nurse best loved to -tell. There was the legend of Monseigneur Saint Gideon, who drove the -heathen Saracens out of his country with a mere handful of -foot-soldiers; and that of Monseigneur Saint David, who, when he was but -a youth, fought with the Saracen giant, Count Goliath, who was forty -feet high--Guillot and Raoul used to like that too; and of Monseigneur -Saint Daniel, who on a false accusation was cast to the lions, and in -the night the holy Apostle Saint Peter appeared to him, and commanded -the lions not to hurt him; and the lions came and licked the feet of -Monseigneur Saint Peter. The story that Amaury liked best of all was -about Madame Esther, the Queen of Persia, and how she entreated her -royal lord for the lives of certain knights that had been taken -prisoners; but he always wanted to know exactly what Madame Esther had -on, and even I thought that absurd, for of course Marguerite had to make -it up, as the legend did not tell, and he might have done that for -himself. Raoul best loved the great legend of the wars of Troy, and how -Monseigneur Achilles dragged Monseigneur Hector at the wheels of his -chariot: which I never did like, for I could not help thinking of Madame -the Queen, his mother, and Madame his wife, who sat in a latticed -gallery watching, and remembering how their hearts would bleed when they -saw it. The story Guy liked best was of two good knights of Greece, -whose names were Sir Damon and Sir Pythias, and how they so loved that -each was ready and anxious to lay down his life for the other: and I -think what I best loved to hear was the dear legend of Madame Saint -Magdalene, and how she followed the blessed steps of our Lord wherever -He went, and was the first to whom He deigned to appear after His -resurrection. - -I wish, sometimes, that I had known my mother. I never had any mother -but Marguerite. If she heard me, I know she would say, "Ha, my -Damoiselle does not well to leave out the Damoiselle Alix." But I am -sure Alix was never anything like a mother. If she were, mothers must -be queer people. - -Why don't I like Alix better? Surely the only reason is not because she -is my half-sister. Our gracious Lord and father was twice -married,--first to the Lady Eustacie de Chabot, who was mother of Alix, -and Guillot, and Guy, and Amaury, and Raoul: and then she died, soon -after Raoul was born; and the year afterwards Monseigneur married my -mother, and I was her only child. But that does not hinder my loving -Guy. Why should it hinder my loving Alix? - -Most certainly something does hinder it,--and some tremendous thing -hinders my loving Cousin Hugues de la Marche. I hate him. Marguerite -says "Hush!" when I say so. But Hugues is so intensely hateable, I am -sure she need not. He is more like Guillot than any other of us, but -rougher and more boisterous by far. I can't bear him. And he always -says he hates girls, and he can't bear me. So why should I not hate him? - -O Mother, Mother! I wish you had stayed with me! - -Somehow, I don't think of her as I do of any one who is alive. I -suppose, if she were alive, I should call her "Fair Madame," and be -afraid to move in her presence. But being dead seems to bring her -nearer. I call her "Mother," and many a time I say her pretty, gentle -name, Clemence,--not aloud, but in my thoughts. Would she have loved me -if she had stayed? - -Does she love me, where she is with God? They say she was so gentle and -pious, I am sure she must be in Heaven. She stayed only a very little -while with us; I was not two years old when she died. Marguerite says -she used to carry me up and down the long gallery, looking tenderly down -at my baby face, and call me her darling, her dove, her precious Elaine. -Oh, why could I not have heard her, to remember it, only once? - -There is no need to ask why I feel lonely and desolate, and muse on my -dead mother, as I always do when I am miserable. I can never be -anything else, now that Guy is gone. Monseigneur, our gracious Lord and -father, gave consent a month since that Guy should take the holy cross, -and yesterday morning he set forth with a company on his perilous -journey. Was there no one in all the world but my Guy to fight for our -Lord's sepulchre? And does our Lord think so very much about it, that -He does not care though a maiden's heart be broken and her life -desolate, if she give up her best beloved to defend it? - -Well, I suppose it is wrong to say that. The good God is always good, -of course. And I suppose it is right that Guy should put the sepulchre -before me. He is the true knight, to sacrifice himself to duty; and I -am not the noble-hearted damsel, if I wish he had done otherwise. And I -suppose the great tears that fell on that red cross while I was -broidering it, were displeasing to the good God. He ought to have the -best. Oh yes! I see that, quite clearly. And yet I wonder why He -wanted my best, when He has all the saints and angels round Him, to do -Him homage. And I had only Guy. I cannot understand it. - -Oh dear! I do get so puzzled, sometimes. I think this is a very -perplexing world to live in. And it is of no use to say a word to Alix, -because she only calls me a simpleton, and that does not explain -anything: and Marguerite says, "Hush! My Damoiselle would not speak -against the good God?" - -And neither of them helps me a bit. They do not see that I never mean -to speak against the good God. I only want to understand. They do not -feel the same sort of want, I suppose, and so they think it wicked in me -to feel it. - -Does my mother understand it all? Must one die, to understand? And if -so, why? - -Guy would let me ask him such questions. I do not know that he saw the -answer any better than I did, but at least we could agree in feeling -them, and could try to puzzle the way out. But Alix appears not even to -see what I mean. And it is disheartening, when one takes the trouble to -brace up one's courage to ask such questions from somebody above one, of -whom one feels ever so little afraid, only to be told in reply what the -same person had told one a hundred times before--that one is a -simpleton. - -I wish somebody would listen to me. If I could have seen a saint,--some -one who lived in perpetual communion with our Lord, and knew all things! -But do saints know all things? If so, why could not I be a saint -myself, and then I should know too? - -Well, I have no doubt of the answer to that question. For if I were a -saint, I must first be a nun; and that would mean to go away from home, -and never, never see Guy any more. - -Oh no! that would not do. So it is plain I can never be a saint. - -When I come to think about it, I doubt if there ever were a saint in our -family. Of course we are one of the oldest families in Poitou, and -indeed I might say, in France; for Count Hugues I. lived about nine -hundred years after our Lord, and that is nearly as far back as -Charlemagne. And Monseigneur has no one above him but our gracious Lord -the Count of Poitou, who is in his turn a vassal of our suzerain, the -King of England, and he pays homage to the King of France. - -I never did like that, and I don't now. I cannot see why our King -should pay homage to the King of France for his dominions on this side -of the sea.[#] The French say there were Kings in France before there -ever were in England. Well, that may be so: but I am sure it was not -long before, and our King is every bit as good as the King of France. -When Raoul wants to tease me, he says I am a Frenchwoman. And I won't -be called a Frenchwoman. I am not a subject of King Louis. I am a -Poitevine, and a subject of the Lord Henry, King of England and Count of -Poitou, to begin with: and under him, of his son the Lord Richard,[#] -who is now our young Count; and beneath him again, of Monseigneur, my -own father, who has as much power in his own territory as the King -himself. - - -[#] This homage, exacted by the Kings of France, was always a sore -subject with the Kings of England, who took every opportunity of evading -that personal payment of it which it was the anxiety of the French -monarchs to secure. - -[#] Coeur-de-Lion. - - -It is true, Monseigneur's territory is not very large. But Father Eudes -told us one day, when he was giving us our Latin lessons, that the great -Emperor of Rome, Monseigneur Julius Caesar, who was such a wonderful man -and a great magician, used to say that he would rather be the first in a -village than the second in imperial Rome itself. And that is just what I -feel. I would rather be the Damoiselle Elaine, daughter of Monseigneur -the Count of Lusignan, than I would be the niece or cousin of the Queen -of France. I do like to be at the top of everything. And I would -rather be at the top of a little thing than at the bottom of a big one. - -Marguerite smiles and shakes her head when I say so to her. She says it -is pleasanter down at the bottom. It makes me laugh to hear her. It is -natural enough that she should think so, as she is only a villein, and -of course she is at the bottom. And it is very well if she likes it. I -could never bear it. But then I am noble, and it could not be expected -that I should do so. - -Though we never had a saint in our House, yet, as every one knows, we -sprang from a supernatural source. The root of the House of Lusignan -was the Fairy Melusine, who was the loveliest creature imaginable, but -half woman and half serpent. I do not know when she lived, but it must -have been ages ago; and she built the Castle of Lusignan by enchantment. -Sometimes, on a still summer evening, any one who is out alone will -catch a glimpse of her, bathing in the fountain which stands in the -pleasance.[#] I would not cross the pleasance after dark on a summer -evening--no, not to be made a queen. I should be frightened to death of -seeing the Lady Melusine. For when any one of our line is about to die, -she is sure to appear, so I should think I was going to die if I saw -her. She comes, too, when any great calamity is threatening France. -Perhaps I should not be quite sure to die, but I would rather not risk -it. I never did see her, the saints be thanked; and Marguerite says she -never did. I think she cannot have appeared for a long time. About -forty years ago, before the death of the Lady Poncette, Countess of -Angouleme, who was a daughter of our House, Arlette, the mother of our -varlet Robert, thought she saw the Lady Melusine; but it was nearly -dark, and there were trees between them, and Arlette is near-sighted, so -it was not possible to be sure. But she says her mother-in-law's -niece's grand-aunt really did see her, and no mistake at all about it. -She was bathing in the fountain, and she splashed her long tail about -till the maiden almost lost her wits from the fright. And the very next -year, Count Hugues the Good was murdered by the Duke of Guienne's -people. Which shows plainly that there are such things as ghosts. - - -[#] Pleasure-grounds. - - -The night before Guy went away--can it be two evenings since,--only -two?--we crept into the long gallery, as we two always do when we want a -quiet talk, and sat down in that window from which you get the lovely -view of the church spire through the trees, across the river. That is -always our favourite window. Guy was trying to comfort me, and I am -rather afraid I was crying. And he said, drawing me up to him, and -kissing me,-- - -"Now, my little Elaine, there have been tears enough for once. I am not -going to forget thee, any more than thou meanest to forget me. When I -have fought the Saracens, and taken Saladin captive, and brought him in -chains to Jerusalem, and the King has made me a Count, and given me a -beautiful lady for my wife, and everybody is talking about me,"--of -course I knew that was only Guy's fun; he did not really expect all -that,--"then," he went on, "I will send home for Amaury and my little -pet, and you shall come to me in the Holy Land. Monseigneur promised me -that, thou knowest. He said it would be an excellent thing for thee; -because thou wouldst not only have all thy sins forgiven at the Holy -Sepulchre, but very likely I should have the chance of getting a good -husband for thee. And I have talked well to Amaury about taking care of -thee on the journey; and Marguerite must attend thee. So look forward -to that, Lynette, and dry those red eyes." - -"They will be red till thou comest back, Guy!" said I, with another -burst of tears. - -"I am sure I hope not!" he answered, laughing. "They will be very ugly -if they are; and then how am I to get thee a husband?" - -"I don't care about one, I thank thee," said I "So that does not -signify." - -"Ah, that is because thou art fourteen," said Guy; "wait till thou art -four-and-twenty." - -There, now! if I could have been vexed with my own dear Guy, and just -when he was going away for ever--at least it looks very like for -ever--but of course I could not. But why will men--even the very best -of them--always fancy that a girl cares more for a husband than anything -else in this world? However, I let it pass. How could I quarrel with -Guy? - -"Guy," I said, "dost thou care very much about having a beautiful lady -for thy wife?" - -Guy takes the Cross. - -"Oh, certainly!" replied Guy, pursing up his lips, and pretending to be -grave. - -I did not like the idea one bit. I felt more inclined to cry till Guy -came back than ever. - -"What will she be like, Guy?" I asked, trying not to show it. - -"She will be the loveliest creature in all the world," said Guy, "with -eyes as black as sloes, and hair like a raven's plumage; and so rich -that whenever she puts her hand in her pocket thou wilt hear the besants -go chink, chink against each other." - -"Wilt thou love her, Guy?" I said, gulping down my thoughts. - -"To distraction!" replied Guy, casting up his eyes. - -Well, I knew all the while it was nonsense, but I did feel so miserable -I could not tell what to do. I know Raoul and Guillot have a notion -that they are only fulfilling the ends of their being by teasing their -sisters; but it was something so very new for Guy. - -"But thou wilt not give over loving _me_, Guy?" I wailed, and I am sure -there were tears in my voice as well as my eyes. - -"My dear, foolish little Lynette!" said Guy, half laughing, and -smoothing my hair; "dost thou not know me any better than that? Why, I -shall be afraid of talking nonsense, or sense either, if thou must needs -take it to heart in that style." - -I felt rather comforted, but I did not go on with that. There was -something else that I wanted to ask Guy, and it was my last opportunity. - -"Guy," I said softly, after a moment's pause, "canst thou remember my -mother?" - -"Oh yes, darling," he said. "I was eleven years old when she died." - -"Didst thou love her?" said I. - -"Very dearly," he answered--quite grave now. - -"Am I like her, Guy?" - -Guy looked down on me, and smiled. - -"Yes--and no," he said. "The Lady Clemence had lighter hair than thou; -and her smile was very sweet. Thine eyes are darker, too, and -brighter--there is something of the falcon in them: she had the eyes of -the dove. Yet there is a likeness, though it is not easy to tell thee -what." - -"Did Monseigneur love her very much, Guy?" I said. - -"More than he ever loved any other, I think," answered Guy. "He was -married to my mother when both were little children, as thou knowest is -generally the case: but he married thine for love. And--I don't know, -but I always fancy that is the reason why he has ever been unwilling to -have us affianced in infancy. When people are married as babies, and -when they grow up they find that they do not like each other, it must be -very disagreeable, I should think." - -"I should think it was just horrible, Guy," said I. "But Alix and -Guillot were affianced as babies." - -"So they were," said he. "But I doubt if Guillot ever cared about it." - -"Why, is Umberge one to care about?" I replied. "There is nothing in her -of any sort. Was Alix very sorry, Guy, when her betrothed died? How -old was she?" - -"About ten years old," he said. "Oh no--not she. I do not think she -had seen him five times." - -"Well," I said, "I am very glad that I was not treated in that way." - -So we went on talking. I hardly know what we talked about, or rather -what we did not; for it was first one thing and then another, as our -thoughts led that way. I asked Guy if he thought that our mothers knew -what befel us here on earth, and he said he supposed they must, for how -else could the saints and angels hear us? - -I saw old Marguerite at one end of the gallery, and I am sure she was -come to bid me go to bed: but as soon as she caught sight of Guy and me -talking in the window, she made believe to be about something else, and -slipped away again. She knew I wanted to have my talk out with Guy. The -last talk I may ever have with him for years! - -And now it is all over, and Guy is gone. - -I wonder how he will get on! Will he do some grand, gallant deed, and -be sent for to the Court of the Holy Land, and made a Count or a -Duke?--and have all sorts of jewels and riches given him? Perhaps the -Queen will put a chaplet of flowers on his head, and all the Princesses -will dance with him, and he will be quite a hero. But about that -beautiful lady,--I don't feel at all comfortable about her! I cannot -tell whether I should love her or hate her. If she did not almost -worship Guy, I am sure I should hate her. - -And then there is another side to the picture, which I do not like to -look at in the least. Instead of all this, Guy may get taken prisoner, -and may languish out twenty years in some Saracen dungeon--perhaps, all -his life! - -Oh dear, dear! I don't know what to do! And the worst of it is, that -nothing I can do will make any difference. - -Why does the good God let there be any Saracens? Marguerite says--and so -does Father Eudes, so it must be true--that God can do everything, and -that He wants everybody to be a good Christian. Then why does He not -make us all good Christians? That is what I want to know. Oh, I cannot, -cannot make it out! - -But then they all say, "Hush, hush!" and "Fie, Damoiselle!" as if I had -said something very wicked and shocking. They say the good God will be -very angry. Why is the good God angry when we want to know? - -I wonder why men and women were ever made at all. I wonder why _I_ was -made. Did the good God want me for something, that He took the pains to -make me? Oh, can nobody tell me why the good God wanted me? - -He must be good, for He made all so beautiful. And He might have made -things ugly. But then, sometimes, He lets such dreadful things happen. -Are there not earthquakes and thunderstorms? And why does He let nice -people die? Could not--well, I suppose that is wicked. No, it isn't! I -may as well say it as think it.--Would it not have done as well if Alix -had died, and my mother had lived? It would have been so much nicer! -And what difference would it have made in Heaven--I hope Alix would have -gone there--where they have all the angels, and all the saints? Surely -they could have spared my mother--better than I can. - -Well, I suppose--as Alix says when she wants one to be quiet--"it is no -use talking." Things are so, and I cannot change them. And all my -tears will not give me Guy back. I must try to think of the neuvaine[#] -which he has promised to offer for me at the Holy Sepulchre, and hope -that he won't be taken prisoner, and that he will be made a Count, -and--well, and try to reconcile myself to that beautiful lady who is to -have Guy instead of me. Oh dear me! - - -[#] Nine days' masses. - - -Now, there is another thing that puzzles me. (Every thing puzzles me in -this world. I wish there had been another to which I could have gone, -where things would not have puzzled me.) If God be everywhere--as -Father Eudes says--why should prayers offered at the Holy Sepulchre be -of more value than prayers offered in my bedchamber? I cannot see any -reason, unless it were that God[#] loves the Holy Land so very much, -because He lived and died there, that He is oftener there than anywhere -else, and so there is a better chance of getting Him to hear. But how -then can He be everywhere? - - -[#] In using this one of the Divine Names, a mediaeval Romanist almost -always meant to indicate the Second Person of the Trinity only. - - -Why will people--wise people, I mean--not try to answer such questions? -Marguerite only says, "Hush, then, my Damoiselle!" Alix says, "Oh, do -be quiet! When will you give over being so silly?" And Monseigneur -pats me on the head, and answers, "Why should my cabbage trouble her -pretty little head? Those are matters for doctors of the schools, -little one. Go thou and call the minstrels, or bind some smart ribbons -in thine hair; that is more fit for such maidens as thou." - -Do _they_ never want to know? And why should the answers be only fit -for learned men, if the questions keep coming and worrying me? If I -could once know, I should give over wanting to know. But how can I give -over till I do? - -Either the world has got pulled into a knot, or else I have. And so far -from being able to undo me, nobody seems to see that I am on a knot at -all. - -"If you please, Damoiselle, the Damoiselle Alix wishes to know where -your Nobleness put the maccaroons." - -"Oh dear, Heloise! I forgot to make them. Can she not do without -them?" - -"If you please, Damoiselle, your noble sister says that the Lady Umberge -will be here for the spice this afternoon, and your Excellence is aware -that she likes maccaroons." - -Yes, I am--better than I like her. I never did see anybody eat so many -at once as she does. She will do for once with cheesecakes. I would not -mind staying up all night to make maccaroons for Guy, but I am sure -cheesecakes are good enough for Umberge. And Alix does make good -cheese-cakes--I will give her that scrap of praise. - -"Well, Heloise--I don't know. I really think we should do. But I -suppose--is there time to make them now?" - -"If you please, Damoiselle, it is three o'clock by the sundial." - -"Then it is too late." - -And I thought, but of course I did not say to Heloise,--How Alix will -scold! I heard her step on the stairs, and I fairly ran. But I did not -lose my lecture. - -"Elaine!" cried Alix's shrill voice, "where are you?" - -Alix might be a perfect stranger, for the way in which she always calls -me _you_. I came out. I knew it was utterly useless to try to hide. - -"Where have you put those new maccaroons?" - -"They are not made, Alix," I said, trying to look as if I did not care. - -"Not made? Saint Martin of Tours help us! What can you have been -doing?" - -I was silent. - -"I say, what were you doing?" demanded Alix, with a stamp of her foot. - -"Never mind. I forgot the maccaroons." - -If I had been speaking to any one but Alix, I should have added that I -was sorry. But she is always so angry that it seems to dry up any -regret on my part. - -"You naughty girl!" Alix blazed out. "You very, very naughty girl! -There is no possibility of relying on you for one instant. You go -dreaming away, and forget everything one tells you. You are silly, -_silly_!" - -The tone that Alix put into that last word! It was enough to provoke -all the saints in the calendar. - -"There will be plenty without them," said I. - -"Hold your tongue, and don't give me any impudence!" retorted Alix. - -I thought I might have said the same. If Alix would speak more kindly, -I am sure I should not get so vexed. I can't imagine what she would say -if I were to do something really wicked, for she exhausts her whole -vocabulary on my gathering the wrong flowers, or forgetting to make -cakes. - -"Don't be cross, Alix," I said, trying to keep the peace. "I really did -forget them." - -"Oh dear, yes, I never doubted it!" answered Alix, in that way of hers -which always tries my patience. "Life is sacred to the memory of Guy, -but my trouble and Umberge's likings are of no consequence at all! And -it does not matter that the Baron de Montbeillard and his lady will be -here, and that we shall have a dish too little on the table. Not in the -least!" - -"Well, really, Alix, I don't think it does much matter," said I. - -"Of course not. And the Lady de Montbeillard will not go home and tell -everybody what a bad housekeeper I am, and how little I care to have -things nice for my guests--Oh dear, no!" - -"If you treat her kindly, I should think her very ungrateful if she -did," said I. - -Alix flounced away with--"I wish you were gone after Guy!" - -And so did I. - -But at night, just before I dropped asleep, a new idea came to me--an -idea that never occurred to me before. - -Do I try Alix as much as she tries me? - -Oh dear! I hope not. It cannot be. I don't think it is possible. Is -it? - -I wish I had not forgotten those cakes. Alix did seem so put out. And -I suppose it was rather annoying--perhaps. - -I did not like her saying that I was not to be trusted. I don't think -that was fair. And I cannot bear injustice. Still, I did forget the -cakes. And if she had trusted me, it was only reasonable that she -should feel disappointed. But she did not need to have been so angry, -and have said such disagreeable things. Well, I suppose I was angry -too; but I show my anger in a different way from Alix. I do not know -which of us was more wrong. I think it was Alix. Yes, I am sure it -was. She treats me abominably. It is enough to make anybody angry. - -Those limes seem to come up and look reproachfully at me, when I say -that. I was not at all well--it might be three years ago: rather -feverish, and very cross. And two travelling pedlars came to the Castle -gate. One sold rare and costly fruits, and the other silken stuffs. -Now I know that Alix had been saving up her money for a gold-coloured -ribbon, for which she had a great fancy; and there was a lovely one in -that pedlar's stock--in fact, I have never since seen one quite so -pretty. Alix had just enough to buy it. She could not get any more, -because the treasurer was away with Monseigneur at the hawking. But she -saw my wistful glances at the limes in the other pedlar's panniers, and -she bought some for me. They were delicious: but Alix went without her -gold-coloured ribbon. She had no other chance of it, for the pedlar was -on his way to the great Whitsuntide fair at Poictiers, and he would not -stay even one night.[#] - - -[#] At the period of this story, shops were nearly unknown except in the -largest towns. Country families--noble, gentle, or peasant--had to rely -on laying in a stock of goods at the great fairs, held at Easter, -Whitsuntide, Michaelmas, and Christmas; and for anything wanted between -those periods, recourse was had to travelling pedlars, who also served -as carriers and postmen when occasion demanded it. - - -I wonder if it be possible that Alix really loves me,--just one little -bit! And I wonder if we could give over rasping one another as we do. -It would be very difficult. - -But if I ever do follow Guy, I will bring back, from Byzantium or -Damascus, something beautiful for Alix, to make up for that gold ribbon. -It was good of her. And I do wish I had remembered those maccaroons! - - - - - *CHAPTER II.* - - _*TWO SURPRISES FOR ELAINE*_*.* - - - "I feel within me - A mind above all earthly dignities, - A still and quiet conscience." - --SHAKSPERE. - - -I should like to know, if I could find out, what it is that makes Alix -have such a fancy for Lady Isabeau de Montbeillard. I think she is just -abominable. She finishes off every sentence with a little crackling -laugh, which it drives me wild to hear. It makes no difference what it -is about. Whether it be, "Dear Damoiselle, how kind you are!" or "Do you -not think my lord looks but poorly?" they all end up with "Ha, ha, ha!" -Sometimes I feel as though I could shake her like Lovel does the rats. - -If Lady Isabeau were like Alix in her ways, I would understand it -better; but they are totally unlike, and yet they seem to have a fancy -for each other. - -As for the Baron, I don't care a bit about him any way. He is like -Umberge in that respect--there is nothing in him either to like or -dislike. And if there can be still less of anything than in him, I think -it is in his brother, Messire Raymond, who sits with his mouth a little -open, staring at one as if one were a curiosity in a show. - -Alix told me this morning that I was too censorious. I am afraid that -last sentence looks rather like it. Perhaps I had better stop. - -The Baron and his lady went with us to the hawking, and so did Messire -Raymond; but he never caught so much as a sparrow. Then, after we came -back, I had to try on my new dress, which Marguerite had just finished. -It really is a beauty. The under-tunic is of crimson velvet, the -super-tunic of blue samite embroidered in silver; the mantle of reddish -tawny, with a rich border of gold. I shall wear my blue kerchief with -it, which Monseigneur gave me last New Year's Day, and my golden girdle -studded with sapphires. The sleeves are the narrowest I have yet had, -for the Lady de Montbeillard told Alix that last time she was at the -Court, the sleeves were much tighter at the wrist than they used to be, -and she thinks, in another twenty years or so, the pocketing sleeve[#] -may be quite out of fashion. It would be odd if sleeves were to be made -the same width all the way down. But the Lady de Montbeillard saw Queen -Marguerite[#] when she was at Poictiers, and she says that the Queen -wore a tunic of the most beautiful pale green, and her sleeves were the -closest worn by any lady there. - - -[#] One of the most uncomely and inconvenient vagaries of fashion. The -sleeve was moderately tight from shoulder to elbow, and just below the -elbow it went off in a wide pendant sweep, reaching almost to the knee. -The pendant part was used as a pocket. - -[#] Daughter of Louis VII., King of France, and Constanca of Castilla: -wife of Henry, eldest son of Henry II. of England. Her husband was -crowned during his father's life, and by our mediaeval chroniclers is -always styled Henry the Third. - - -I wish I were a queen. It is not because I think it would be grand, but -because queens and princesses wear their coronets over their kerchiefs -instead of under. And it is such a piece of business to fasten one's -kerchief every morning with the coronet underneath. Marguerite has less -trouble than I have with it, as she has nothing to fasten but the -kerchief. And if it is not done to perfection I am sure to hear of it -from Alix. - -When Marguerite was braiding my hair this morning, I asked her if she -knew why she was made. She was ready enough with her answer. - -"To serve you, Damoiselle, without doubt." - -"And why was I made, dost thou think, Marguerite? To be served by -thee--or to serve some one else?" - -"Of course, while the Damoiselle is young and at home, she will serve -Monseigneur. Then, when the cavalier comes who pleases Monseigneur and -the good God, he will serve the Damoiselle. And afterwards,--it is the -duty of a good wife to serve her lord. And of course, all, nobles and -villeins, must serve the good God." - -"Well, thou hast settled it easier than I could do it," said I. "But, -Margot, dost thou never become tired of all this serving?" - -"Not now, Damoiselle." - -"What dost thou mean by that?" - -"Ah, there was a time," said Marguerite, and I thought a blush burned on -her dear old face, "when I was a young, silly maiden, and very, very -foolish, Damoiselle." - -"Dost thou think all maidens silly, Margot?" - -"Very few wise, Damoiselle. My foolish head was full of envious -thoughts, I know that--vain wishes that I had been born a noble lady, -instead of a villein maiden. I thought scorn to serve, and would fain -have been born to rule." - -"How very funny!" said I. "I never knew villeins had any notions of -that sort. I thought they were quite content." - -"Is the noble Damoiselle always quite content? Pardon me." - -"Why, no," said I. "But then, Margot, I am noble, and nobles may -rightfully aspire. Villeins ought to be satisfied with the lot which -the good God has marked out for them, and with the honour of serving a -noble House." - -"Ha, Damoiselle! The Damoiselle has used a deep, strong word. Satisfy! -I believe nothing will satisfy any living heart of man or woman,--except -that one thing." - -"What one thing?" - -"I am an ignorant villein, my Damoiselle. I do not know the holy Latin -tongue, as ladies do. But now and then Father Eudes will render some -words of the blessed Evangel into French in his sermon. And he did so -that day--when I was satisfied." - -"What was it that satisfied thee, then, Margot?" - -"They were words, Father Eudes said, of the good God Himself, when He -walked on middle earth among us men. 'Come unto Me,' He said, 'all ye -that labour and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest.'" - -"But I do not understand, Marguerite. How did those words satisfy -thee?" - -"The words did not, Damoiselle. But the thing did. I just took the -blessed Lord at His word, and went to Him, and, thanks be to His holy -Name, He gave me rest." - -"What dost thou mean, Margot?" - -"Will the dear Damoiselle not come and try? She will want rest, some -day." - -"Had I not better wait till I am tired?" said I, laughingly. - -"Ah, yes! we never want rest till we are tired.--But not wait to come to -the merciful Lord. Oh no, no!" - -"Nay, I cannot comprehend thee, Margot." - -"No, my Damoiselle. She is not likely to know how to come until she -wants to do it. When she does want it, the good God will hear the -Damoiselle, for He heard her servant." - -"Didst thou entreat the intercession of Saint Marguerite?" - -"Ah, no. I am but an ignorant old woman. The dear Lord said, 'Come -unto _Me_.' And I thought, perhaps, He meant it. So I just went." - -"But how couldst thou, Margot?" - -"If it please my Damoiselle, I did it. And if He had been angry, I -suppose He would not have heard me." - -"But how dost thou know He did hear thee?" - -"When the Damoiselle entreats Monseigneur to give her a silver mark, and -he opens his purse and gives it, is it possible for her to doubt that he -has heard her? The good God must have heard me, because He gave me -rest." - -"I do not understand, Margot, what thou meanest by rest. And I want to -know all about it. Have things given over puzzling thee? Is there some -light come upon them?" - -"It seems to me, Damoiselle, if I be not too bold in speaking my poor -thoughts"---- - -"Go on," said I. "I want to know them." - -"Then, my Damoiselle, it seems to me that there are two great lights in -which we may see every thing in this world. The first is a fierce -light, like the sun. But it blinds and dazzles us. The holy angels -perchance can bear it, for it streams from the Throne of God, and they -stand before that Throne. But we cannot. Our mortal eyes must be -hidden in that dread and unapproachable light. And if I mistake not, it -is by this light that the Damoiselle has hitherto tried to see things, -and no wonder that her eyes are dazzled. But the other light soothes -and enlightens. It is soft and clear, like the moonlight, and it -streams from the Cross of Calvary. There the good God paid down, in the -red gold of His own blood, the price of our redemption. It must have -been because He thought it worth while. And if He paid such a price for -a poor villein woman like me, He must have wanted me. The Damoiselle -would not cast a pearl into the Vienne for which she had paid a thousand -crowns. And if He cared enough about me to give His life for me, then -He must care enough to be concerned about my welfare in this lower -world. The Damoiselle would not refuse a cup of water to him to whom -she was willing to give a precious gem. Herein lies rest. What the good -God, who thus loves me, wills for me, I will for myself also." - -"But, Marguerite, it might be something that would break thine heart." - -"Would the blessed Lord not know that? But I do not think He breaks -hearts that are willing to be His. He melts them. It is the hearts -that harden themselves like a rock which have to be broken." - -"But thou wouldst not like something which hurt thee?" - -"Not enjoy it--no, no. Did the Damoiselle enjoy the verdigris plaster -which the apothecary put on her when she was ill three years ago? Yet -she did not think him her enemy, but her friend. Ah, the good God has -His medicine-chest. And it holds smarting plasters and bitter drugs. -But they are better than to be ill, Damoiselle." - -"Marguerite, I had no idea thou wert such a philosopher." - -"Ah, the noble Damoiselle is pleased to laugh at her servant, who does -not know what that hard word means. No, there is nothing old Marguerite -knows, only how to come to the blessed Lord and ask Him for rest. _He_ -gave the rest. And He knew how to do it." - -I wonder if old Marguerite is not the truest philosopher of us all. It -is evident that things do not puzzle her, just because she lets them -alone, and leaves them with God. Still, that is not knowing. And I -want to know. - -Oh, I wish I could tell if it is wicked to want to know! - -I wonder if the truth be that there are things which we cannot -know:--things which the good God does not tell us, not because He wishes -us to be ignorant, but because He could not possibly make us comprehend -them. But then why did He not make us wiser?--or why does He let -questions perplex us to which we can find no answer? - -I think it must be that He does not wish us to find the answer. And -why? I will see what idea Marguerite has about that. She seems to get -hold of wise notions in some unintelligible way, for of course she is -only a villein, and cannot have as much sense as a noble. - -There was that tiresome Messire Raymond in the hall when I went down. -He is noble enough, for his mother's mother was a Princess of the -Carlovingian[#] blood: but I am sure he has no more sense than he needs. -The way in which he says "Ah!" when I tell him anything, just -exasperates me. The Baron, his brother, is a shade better, though he -will never wear a laurel crown.[#] Still, he does not say "Ah!" - - -[#] A descendant of Charlemagne. - -[#] The prize of intellect. - - -I don't like younger brothers. In fact, I don't think I like men of any -sort. Except Guy, of course--and Monseigneur. But then other men are -not like them. Guillot, and Amaury, and Raoul rank with the other men. - -I wonder if women are very much better. I don't think they are, if I am -to look upon Alix and the Lady de Montbeillard as samples. - -Oh dear, I wonder why I hate people so! It must be because they are -hateful. Does anybody think _me_ hateful? How queer it would be, if -they did! - - -I really do feel, to-night, as if I did not know whether I was standing -on my feet or on my head. I cannot realise it one bit. Alix going to be -married! Alix going away from the Castle! And I--I--to be the only -mistress there! - -Monseigneur called me down into the hall, as I stood picking the dead -leaves from my rose-bushes for a pot-pourri. There was no one in the -hall but himself. Well, of course there were a quantity of servitors -and retainers, but they never count for anything. I mean, there was -nobody that is anybody. He bade me come up to him, and he drew me -close, kissed me on the forehead, and stroked down my hair. - -"What will my cabbage say to what I have to tell her?" said he. - -"Is it something pleasant, Monseigneur?" said I. - -"Now, there thou posest me," he answered, "Yes,--in one light. No,--in -another. And in which of the two lights thou wilt see it, I do not yet -know." - -I looked up into his face and waited. - -"Dost thou like Messire Raymond de Montbeillard?" - -"No, Monseigneur," I answered. - -"No? Ha! then perchance thou wilt not like my news." - -"Messire Raymond has something to do with it?" - -"Every thing." - -"Well," said I, I am afraid rather saucily, "so long as he does not want -to marry me, I do not much care what he does." - -Monseigneur pinched my ear, kissed me, and seemed extremely amused. - -"Thee? No, no! Not just yet, my little cabbage. Not just yet! But -suppose he wanted to marry Alix?" - -"Does he want to marry Alix?" - -"He does." - -"And under your good leave, Monseigneur?" - -"Well, yes. I see no good reason to the contrary, my little cat. He is -a brave knight, and has a fine castle, and is a real Carlovingian."[#] - - -[#] Throughout France in the Middle Ages, the Carlovingian blood was -rated at an extravagant value. - - -"He is a donkey!" said I. "Real, too." - -"Ha, hush, then!" replied Monseigneur, yet laughing, and patting my -cheek. "Well, well--perhaps not overburdened with brains--how sharp -thou art, child, to be sure! (No want of brains in that direction.) -But a good, worthy man, my cabbage, and a stalwart knight." - -"And when is it to be, Monseigneur?" I asked. - -"In a hurry to see the fine dresses?" demanded my gracious Lord, and -laughed again. "Nay, I think not till after Christmas. Time enough -then. _I_ am in no hurry to lose my housekeeper. Canst thou keep house, -my rabbit?--ha, ha! Will there be anything for dinner? Ha, ha, ha, -ha!" - -I was half frightened, and yet half delighted. Of course, I thought, if -Alix goes away, Umberge will come and reign here. Nobody is likely to -think me old enough or good enough. - -"Under your Nobility's good leave, I will see to that," said I. - -Monseigneur answered by a peal of laughter. "Ha, ha, ha! Showing her -talons, is she? Wants to rule, my cabbage--does she? A true woman, on -my troth! Ha, ha, ha!" - -"If it please you, Monseigneur, why should you come short of dinner -because I see about it?" - -My gracious Lord laughed more than ever. - -"No reason at all, my little rabbit!--no reason at all! Try thy hand, -by all means--by all means! So Umberge does not need to come? Ha, ha, -ha, ha!" - -"Certainly not for me," said I, rather piqued. - -"Seriously, my little cat," said he, and his face grew grave. "Wouldst -thou rather Umberge did not come? Art thou not friends with her?" - -"Oh, as to friends, so-so, la-la,"[#] said I. "But I think I should get -along quite as well without her." - - -[#] Middling. - - -"But wouldst thou not weary for a woman's company?" - -"I never weary for any company but Guy's," I answered; and I think the -tears came into my eyes. - -"Is it still Guy?" said he, smiling, but very kindly now. "Always Guy? -Well, well! When the time comes--I promised the boy thou shouldst go -out to him. We must wait till he writes to say he is ready to receive -thee. So Guy stands first, does he?" - -I nodded, for my heart was too full to speak. He patted my head again, -and let me go. But I thought he looked a little troubled; and I could -not tell why. - -When I came to undress, the same evening, I asked Marguerite if she had -heard the news. - -"The Damoiselle Alix was so gracious as to inform me," said she. - -"Dost thou like it, Margot?" - -"Ha, my Damoiselle! What does it matter what a villein old woman -likes?" - -"It matters to me, or I should not have asked thee," said I. - -"I trust it will be for the noble Damoiselle's welfare," said she; and I -could get her to say no more. - -"Now, Margot, tell me something else," said I. "Why does the good God -not make all things clear to everybody? What sayest thou?" - -"He has not told me why, Damoiselle. Perhaps, to teach my Damoiselle to -trust Him. There could be no trust if we always knew." - -"But is not knowing better than trusting?" I replied. - -"Is it?" responded Marguerite. "Does Monseigneur always take my -Damoiselle into his secrets, and never require her to trust him? God is -the great King of all the world. Kings always have secret matters. -Surely the King of kings must have His state secrets too." - -This seemed putting it on a new footing. I sat and considered the -matter, while Marguerite took off my dove cote[#] and unbound my hair. - - -[#] The rich network which confined the hair; often of gold and precious -stones. - - -"Still, I don't see why we may not know everything," I said at last. - -"Does my Damoiselle remember what stood in the midst of the beautiful -Garden of God, wherein Adam and Eva were put to dwell?" - -"The tree of knowledge," said I. "True; but that does not help me to -the why. Why might Adam and Eva not eat it?" - -"Will my Damoiselle pardon me? I think it does help to the why; but not -to the why of the why--which is what she always wants to see. Why Adam -and Eva might not eat it, I suppose, was because the good God forbade -it." - -"But why, Marguerite?--why?" - -"Ha! I am not the good God." - -"I do not see it one bit," said I. "Surely knowledge is a good thing." - -"Knowledge of good, ay,--which is knowledge of God. The good Lord never -forbids us that. He commands it. But let me entreat my Damoiselle to -remember, that this was the tree of knowledge of good _and evil_. That -we should know evil cannot be good." - -"I do not understand why the good God ever let Satan be at all," said I. -"And I do not see how Satan came to be Satan, to begin with." - -"The blessed Lord knows all about it," said Marguerite. "When my -Damoiselle was a little child, I am sure she did not understand why we -gave her bitter medicines. But the apothecary knew. Can my Damoiselle -not leave all her questions with the good Lord?" - -"I want them answered, Margot!" I cried impatiently. "If I knew that I -should understand when I am dead, I would not so much mind waiting. But -I don't know any thing. And I don't like it." - -"Well, I do not know even that much," she replied. "It may be so. I -cannot tell. But the good Lord knows--and He loves me." - -"How knowest thou that, Marguerite?" - -"People don't die for a man, Damoiselle, unless they love him very much -indeed." - -"But how dost thou know that it was for thee?" - -"It was for sinners: and I am one." - -"But not for all sinners, Margot. A great many sinners will go to -perdition, Father Eudes says. How canst thou tell if thou art one of -them or not?" - -"Ah, that did perplex me at first. But one day Father Eudes read out of -the holy Gospel that all who believed in our Lord should have life -eternal: so that settled it. The sinners that are lost must be those -who do not believe in our Lord." - -"Marguerite! don't we all believe in Him?" - -"Let the Damoiselle forgive me if I speak foolishly. But there are two -brothers among the varlets in the hall--Philippe and Robert. Now, I -quite believe that they both exist. I know a good deal about them. I -know their father and mother, Pierrot and Arlette: and I know that -Philippe has a large nose and black hair, and he is fond of porpoise; -while Robert has brown hair and limps a little, and he likes quinces. -Yet, if I wanted to send a crown to my niece Perette, I should feel -quite satisfied that Robert would carry it straight to her, while I -should not dare to give it to Philippe, lest he should go to the next -cabaret and spend it in wine. Now, don't I believe in Robert in a very -different way from that in which I believe in Philippe?" - -"Why, thou meanest that Robert may be trusted, but Philippe cannot be," -said I. "But what has it to do with the matter?" - -"Let the Damoiselle think a moment. Does she simply believe that the -good God is, or does she trust Him?" - -"Trust Him!--with what?" said I. - -"With yourself, my Damoiselle." - -"With myself!" I exclaimed. "Nay, Margot, what dost thou mean now?" - -"How does the Damoiselle trust Monseigneur? Has she any care lest he -should fail to provide her with food and clothing suitable to her rank? -Does it not seem to her a matter of course that so long as he lives he -will always love her, and care for her, and never forget nor neglect -her? Has she ever lain awake at night fretting over the idea that -Monseigneur might give over providing for her or being concerned about -her welfare?" - -"What a ridiculous notion!" I cried. "Why, Margot, I simply could not -do it. He is my father." - -"And what does my Damoiselle read in the holy Psalter? Is it not 'Like -as a father pitieth his children, even so the Lord pitieth them that -fear Him?' Is He not Our Father?" - -"Yes, of course we expect the good God to take care of us," I replied. -"But then, Margot, it is a different thing. And thou knowest He does -not always take care of us in that way. He lets all sorts of things -happen to hurt and grieve us." - -"Then, when my Damoiselle is ill, and Monseigneur sends off in hot haste -for Messire Denys to come and bleed her in the foot, he is _not_ taking -care of her? It hurts her, I think." - -"Oh, that has to be, Margot. As thou saidst, it is better than being -ill." - -"And--let my Damoiselle bear with her servant--is there no 'must be' -with the good God?" - -"But I don't see why, Margot. He could make us well all in a minute. -Monseigneur cannot." - -"Yet suppose it is better that my Damoiselle should not be made well all -in a minute, but should learn by suffering to be patient in sickness, -and thankful for her usual good health? Did not Monseigneur Saint David -say, 'It is good for me that I have been afflicted'?" - -"Oh, what a queer idea!" said I. - -"Is it?" quietly answered Marguerite. "I once heard a young noble lady -say, about three years ago, that it was so delightful to feel well again -after being ill, that it really was worth while going through the pain -to reach it. And I think,--if I may be pardoned the allusion,--I think -they called her the Damoiselle Elaine de Lusignan." - -I could not help laughing. "Well, I dare say I did say something like -it. But, Margot, it is only when I am getting well that I think so. -When I am well, to begin with, I don't want to go through the pain -again." - -"When my Damoiselle is truly well of the mortal disease of sin, she will -never need to go through the pain again. But that will not be till the -sin and the body are laid down together." - -"Till we die--dost thou mean that?" - -"Till we die." - -"O Margot! don't. I hate to think of dying." - -"Yes. It is pleasanter to think of living. They are well for whom all -the dying comes first, and the life is hereafter." - -"Well, I suppose I shall be all right," said I, jumping into bed. -"Monseigneur pays my Church dues, and I hear the holy mass sung every -day. I say my prayers night and morning, and in all my life I never was -so wicked as to touch meat on a fast-day. I think, on the whole, I am a -very good girl." - -"Will my Damoiselle be angry if I ask her whether the good Lord thinks -the same?" - -"O Marguerite! how can I know?" - -"Because, if Father Eudes read it right, we do know. 'There is none -that doeth good, no, not one.'" - -"Margot, how thou must listen to Father Eudes! I hear him mumbling away, -but I never bother my head with what he is saying. He has got to say -it; and I have got to sit there till he has done; that is all. I amuse -myself in all sorts of ways--count the bits of glass in the window, or -watch the effect of the crimson and blue light creeping over the stalls -and pillars, or think how Saint Agatha would look in a green robe -instead of a purple one. What makes thee listen to all the stuff he -says?" - -"My Damoiselle sees that--saving her presence--I am a little like her. -I want to know." - -"But Father Eudes never tells us anything worth knowing, surely!" - -"Ha! Pardon me, my Damoiselle. He reads the true words of the good God -from the holy Evangels. Commonly they are in the holy Latin tongue, and -then I can only stand and listen reverently to the strange sounds: the -good God understands, not I. But now and then I suppose the blessed Lord -whispers to Father Eudes to put it into French for a moment: and that is -what I am listening for all the time. Then I treasure the words up like -some costly gem; and say them to myself a hundred times over, so that I -may never forget them any more. Oh, it is a glad day for me when Father -Eudes says those dear words in French!" - -"But how thou dost care about it, Margot! I suppose thou hast so few -things to think of, and delight in--I have more to occupy me." - -"Ah, my Damoiselle! The blessed Lord said that His good word was choked -up and brought no fruit when the cares of other things entered into the -heart. No, I have not much to think of but my work, and--three graves -in a village churchyard, and one----And I have not much to delight in -save the words of the blessed Lord. Yet--let my Damoiselle bear with -me!--I am better off than she." - -"O Margot!" And I laughed till the tears came into my eyes. It was so -excessively absurd. - -Marguerite took up the lamp. - -"May the good God and His angels watch over my sweet Damoiselle," she -said. - -And then she tucked the silken coverlet round me, and put out the lamp, -that the light should not keep me awake; and quietly undressed herself, -and got into the trundle-bed. And I was asleep almost before she lay -down. - -But, Oh dear, how ridiculous! Marguerite better off than I am! There -is no harm in her fancying it, dear old thing; but the comicality of the -idea! Why, I dress in velvet and diaper, and she in unshorn wool; and I -lie on a feather-bed, under fustian blankets and satin coverlets, and -she sleeps on straw with a woollen rug over her; and I ride, and hawk, -and sing, and dance, and embroider,--and she is hard at all sorts of -rough work from morning to night. Why, she cannot wear a jewel, nor a -bit of gold, nor have any sort of pleasure except singing and dancing, -and she is too old for both. Of course, such things as nobles amuse -themselves with are not fit for villeins. But that a villein should -fancy for a moment that she is better off than a noble--Oh, it is too -absurd for any thing! - -Well, really!--better off than I am! - - - - - *CHAPTER III.* - - _*ALL IS NOT GOLD THAT GLITTERS*_*.* - - - "All things that can satisfy, - Having Jesus, those have I." - - -So all is over, and Alix is really gone! It was a grand wedding. The -bride was in blue velvet, embroidered in gold, with golden girdle, -fermail,[#] and aumoniere; her mantle was of gold-coloured satin, and -her under-tunic of black damask. I thought she chose her colours with -very good taste (more than Alix generally does); but one should look -nice on one's wedding-day, if one ever is to do. And she did look nice, -in her gemmed coronal, and no hood, and all her hair flowing over her -shoulders.[#] As for Messire Raymond, I nearly went into fits when I -caught sight of him. The creature had dressed himself in a yellow -tunic, with a brick-red super-tunic, and flesh-coloured hose. Then he -had green boots, striped in gold; and a sky-blue mantle studded with -golden stars. Raoul said he must fancy that he was Jupiter, since he -had clad himself with the firmament: but Amaury replied that, with all -that flame-colour, he must be Vulcan, if he were a Pagan deity of any -kind. Father Eudes sang the mass, and Father Gilbert, the Lord of -Montbeillard's chaplain, gave the nuptial benediction. I was dressed in -pale green and dark violet, and Lady Isabeau in rose-coloured satin. - - -[#] Brooch. - -[#] The costume restricted to brides or to queens at their coronation. - - -Then came the wedding-feast in the great hall, for which Alix and I had -been preparing a week beforehand; (and after all, I am certain Heloise -forgot to put any more sugar in the placentae[#]): and then the hall was -cleared, and we danced till supper-time. Then, after supper, the -minstrels played; and Lady Isabeau and I, with all the other ladies -there, went up and put the bride to bed: and after throwing the stocking -and all the other ceremonies,--and I am glad to say it did not hit -me,[#] but that ugly Elise de la Puissaye,--we came back into the hall, -and danced again till it was time to take up the posset.[#] Oh, I was -tired when I did get to bed at last! I should not like to be at another -wedding next week. - - -[#] Cheesecakes. - -[#] The girl hit by the stocking was expected to be married next. - -[#] This serving of a posset to the newly-married pair in the night was -a purely French custom. - - -Well, it really is a very good thing that Alix is gone. I have had some -peace these last two days. And there! if the very last thing she did -before going was not to do me an ill turn! She went and persuaded -Monseigneur to invite Umberge to come and take the reins. Oh, of course -_I_ could not be expected to understand anything!--(what sort of a -compliment was that to her teaching?)--I was a mere baby, full of -nonsense,--and all on in that way. And when Monseigneur was so good as -to say that I did not like the idea of Umberge's coming, and he thought -he would try what I could do, Alix fairly laughed in his face. As if I -were fit to decide!--the baby that I was!--she said. Thank you very -much, Dame Alix de Montbeillard; perhaps I have more sense than you -suppose. At any rate, I am very glad of one thing,--that we have got -rid of _you_. - -Oh dear! I wonder whether any body ever thinks that it would be nice to -get rid of me? But then I am not disagreeable, like Alix. I am sure I -am not. - - -Now, why is it that when one gets something one has been wishing for a -long while, one does _not_ feel satisfied with it? I have been fancying -for months how pleasant it would be when Alix was gone, and there would -be no one to find fault with me. Yet it is not pleasant at all. I -thought it would be peaceful, and it is dull. And only this afternoon -Raoul was as cross with me as he could be. Monseigneur took my part, as -he well might, because of course I was right; but still it was -disagreeable. Why don't I feel more happy? - -I thought I would see what Marguerite would say, and I asked her what -she thought about it. She only smiled, and said,--"Such is the way of -the world, my Damoiselle, since men forsook the peaceful paths of God." - -"But why do things look so much more delightful beforehand than when -they come?" said I. - -"The Damoiselle has a vivid fancy. Does she never find that things look -more unpleasant at a distance?" - -"Well, I don't know--perhaps, sometimes," I said. "But disagreeable -things are always disagreeable." - -I suppose something in my face made Marguerite answer-- - -"Is the coming of the Lady Umberge disagreeable to my Damoiselle?" - -"Oh, as to that, I don't care much about it," said I. "But I do want to -hear from Guy." - -Ay, that is coming to be the cry in my heart now. I want to hear from -Guy! I want to know where he is, and what he is doing, and whether he -is made a Count yet, and--Oh dear, dear!--whether that dreadful -beautiful lady, whom he is to like so much better than me, has appeared. -That could not happen to me. I could never love any body better than -Guy. - -I should so like a confidante of my own rank and age. Umberge would -never do at all, and she is quite fifteen years older than I am. If I -had had a sister, a year older or younger than myself, that would have -been about the right thing. Nobody ever was my confidante except Guy. -And I wander about his chamber very much as Level does, and feel, I -should imagine, very much like him when he holds up one paw, and looks -up at me, and plainly says with his dog-face,--"Where is he?--and is he -never coming back?" And I can only put my cheek down on his great soft -head, and stroke his velvet ears, and feel with him. For I know so -little more than he does. - -It must be dreadful for dogs, if they want to know! - -Here is Umberge at last. She came last night, and Guillot with her, and -Valence and Aline. They are nice playthings, or would be, if I might -have my own way. But--I cannot quite understand it--the Umberge who has -come to live here seems quite a different woman from the Umberge who -used to come for an afternoon. She used to kiss me, and call me -"darling," and praise my maccaroons. But this Umberge has kept me -running about the house all morning, while she sits in a curule chair -with a bit of embroidery, and says, "Young feet do not tire," and "You -know where everything is, and you are accustomed to the maids." It -looks as if she thought I was a superior sort of maid. Then, when our -gracious Lord comes in, she is all velvet, and "dear Elaines" me, and -tells him I am such a sweet creature--ready to run about and do any -thing for any body. - -If there is one thing I do despise, it is that sort of woman. Alix -never served me like that. She was sharp, but she was honest. If -Monseigneur praised the placentae, she always told him when I had made -them, and would not take praise for what was not her work. - -I shall never be able to get along with Umberge, if this morning is to -be a specimen of every day. - -Oh dear! I wish Alix had not gone! And I wish, I wish we could hear -from Guy! - - -Things do not go on as smoothly as they used to do. I think Monseigneur -himself sees it now. Umberge is not fond of trouble, and instead of -superintending every thing, as Alix did, always seeing after the maids, -up early and down late, she just takes her ease, and expects things to -go right without any trouble on her part. Why, she never rises in the -morning before six, and she spends a couple of hours in dressing. It is -no good to tell her of any thing that is wanted, for she seems to expect -every thing to mend itself. Yesterday morning, one of the jacinths -dropped out of the sheet on my bed,[#] and I told Umberge--(Alix was -always particular about any thing of that kind being reported to her -directly)--but she only said, "Indeed? Well, I suppose you can sleep as -well without it." But it was last night that Monseigneur seemed vexed. -We had guests to supper, and I am sure I did my best to have things -nice; but every thing seemed to go wrong. Umberge apparently thought -the supper would order itself in the first place, and cook itself in the -second, for beyond telling me to see that all was right, she took no -care about it at all, but sat embroidering. The dining-room was only -just ready in time, and the minstrels were half an hour behind time; the -pastry was overbaked, and the bread quite cold. There was no -subtlety[#] with the third course, and the fresh rushes would have been -forgotten if I had not asked Robert about them. I was vexed, for Alix -was there herself, and I knew what she would think,--to say nothing of -the other guests. I do think it is too bad of Umberge to leave me all -the cares and responsibilities of mistress, while she calmly -appropriates the position and the credit, and then scolds me if every -thing is not perfection. Why, I must go and dress some time; and was it -my fault if Denise left the pies in too long while I was dressing, or -did not attend to my order to have the bread hot[#] at the last minute? -I cannot be every where! - - -[#] How jewels were set in linen sheets is a mystery, but there is -abundant evidence of the fact. - -[#] Ornamental centre-piece. - -[#] It was considered of consequence that the bread at a feast should be -as new as possible. - - -My gracious Lord did not blame me; he asked Umberge and me together how -it happened that all these things were wrong: and I declare, if Umberge -did not say, "Elaine had the ordering of it; Monseigneur will please to -ask her." I am afraid I lost my temper, for I said-- - -"Yes, Monseigneur, I had the ordering of it, for my fair sister took no -care of any thing; and if I could have had three pairs of hands, and -been in six places at once, perhaps things might have been right." - -Monseigneur only laughed, and patted my head. But this evening I heard -him say to Guillot, just as I was entering the hall-- - -"Fair Son, thy fair wife puts too much on the child Elaine." - -Guillot laughed, rubbed his forehead, and answered--"Fair Father, it -will take more than me to stop her." - -"What! canst thou not rule thine own wife?" demanded our gracious Lord. - -"Never tried, Monseigneur," said Guillot. "Too late to begin." - -And Monseigneur only said, with a sigh,--"I wonder when we shall hear -from Guy!" - -Guillot looked relieved, and (seeing me, I think) they went on to talk -of something else. - -But everything seems changed since they came. Except for my gracious -Lord and Amaury and Raoul. It does not feel like home. - -Alix rode over this afternoon. I took her to my bower in the turret, -and almost directly she asked me,--"How do you get on with our fair -sister?" - -And I said,--"O Alix! I wish thou wouldst come back!" - -She laughed, and replied,--"What would my lord say, child? I thought -you were not very comfortable." - -"What made thee think so, Alix? Was it Tuesday night?" - -"Tuesday night--the supper? I guessed you had seen to it." - -"Why?--was it so very bad?" said I, penitently. - -"Bad?--it was carelessness and neglect beyond endurance," she said. -"No, I saw the maids wanted the mistress's eye; and Umberge evidently -had not given it; and I thought you had tried to throw yourself into the -gap, and--as such an inexperienced young thing would--had failed." - -I really was pleased when Alix said that. - -"Then thou wert not vexed with me, Alix?" - -"Not I. You did your best. I was vexed enough with Umberge. I knew -she was lazy, but I did not expect her to discredit the house like -that." - -"She seems quite altered since she came here," I said. - -"Ah, you never can tell how people will turn out till you come to live -with them," said Alix. "So you are not so very glad, after all, to lose -me, little one?" - -I was startled, for I never supposed that Alix had guessed that. I did -not know what to say. - -"Why, child, did you think I had no eyes?" she added. "You know you -were glad." - -I did what I generally do--hesitated for a moment, and then came out -bluntly with the truth-- - -"Well, Alix, I was glad. But I am not now." - -Alix laughed. "That is right," she said; "always tell the plain truth, -Elaine. You will find many a time, as you go through life, child, that -the prettiest pasties are not always the best flavoured, nor the -plainest say[#] the worst to wear." - - -[#] A common quality of silk. - - -I suppose it is so. But I never should have guessed that I should be -wishing for Alix to come back. - - -"Marguerite," I said one morning as I was dressing, "dost thou think it -would be wrong if I were to pray for a letter from Guy?" - -"I cannot think it wrong to pray for anything," she answered, "provided -we are willing that the good God should choose for us in the end." - -"Well, but I am not sure that I am willing to have that." - -"Is my Damoiselle as wise as the good Lord?" - -"Oh no, of course not! But still"---- - -"But still, my Damoiselle would like always to have her own way." - -"Yes, I should, Margot." - -"Well, if there be one thing for which I am thankful it is that the good -Lord has not given me much of my own way. It would have been very bad -for me." - -"Perhaps, for a villein, it might," said I; "but nobles are different." - -"Possibly, even for the nobles," said Marguerite, "the good Lord might -be the best chooser." - -"But it seems to me, if we left everything in that way, we should never -pray at all." - -"Let my Damoiselle pardon me. That we have full trust in a friend's -wisdom is scarcely a reason why we should not ask his counsel." - -"But the friend cannot know what advice you need. The Lord knows all -about it." - -"Does my Damoiselle never tell her thoughts to Monseigneur Guy because -he knows that she is likely to think this or that?" - -"Oh, but it is such pleasure to tell one's thoughts to Guy," I replied. -"He generally thinks as I do; and when he does not, he talks the thing -over with me, and it usually ends in my thinking as he does. Then if I -am sad, he comforts me; and if I am rejoicing, he rejoices with me; -and--O Margot! it is like talking to another me." - -"My Damoiselle," said Marguerite, with a peculiar smile which I have -seen on her lips before, and never could understand--it is so glad and -sunny, yet quiet and deep, as if she were rejoicing over some hidden -treasure which she had all to herself,--"My Damoiselle has said well. -'He that is joined to the Lord is one spirit.' 'If we walk in the -light, as He is in the light, we have fellowship one with another.' My -Damoiselle does not yet know what it is to speak out freely all her -thoughts to One who is infinitely high and wise, and who loves her with -an infinite love. I am but a poor ignorant villein woman: I know very -little about any thing. Well! I take my ignorant mind to Him who knows -all things, and who can foresee the end from the beginning. I do not -know any grand words to pray with. I just say, 'Sir[#] God, I am very -much puzzled. I do not know what to do for the best. Put the best -thing into my head. Thou knowest.' Every night, before I go to sleep, -the last thing, I say in my heart, 'Sir God, I do not know what is good, -and what is evil for me. Thou knowest. Give me the good things -to-night, and keep the evil ones away.' I suppose, if I were very wise -and clever, I should not make such poor, ignorant prayers. I should -know then what would be best to do. Yet I do not think I should be any -better off, for then I should see so much less of the good Lord. I -would rather have more of the good God, and less of the quick wit and -the ready tongue." - - -[#] Though this title will certainly sound strange, if not irreverent, -to modern ears, it was meant as the most reverent epithet known to those -who used it. - - -It would be nice to feel as Margot does. I cannot think where she got -it But it would never do for me, who am noble, to take pattern from a -poor villein. I suppose such thoughts are good for low, ignorant -people. - -What should I have done if I had been born a villein? I cannot imagine -what it would feel like. I am very glad I was not. But of course I -cannot tell what it would feel like, because nobles have thoughts and -feelings of quite a different sort to common people. - -I suppose Guy would say that was one of my queer notions. He always -says more queer ideas come into my head than any one else's. - -O Guy, Guy!--when shall I see thee again? Two whole years, and not a -word from thee! Art thou languishing in some Paynim dungeon? Hast thou -fallen in some battle? Or has the beautiful lady come, and thy little -Lynette is forgotten? - -I have been asking Father Eudes to tell me something about the Holy -Land, for I want to be able to picture to myself the place where Guy is. -And of course Father Eudes can tell, for he knows all about every thing; -and he had an uncle who was a holy palmer, and visited the blessed -Sepulchre, and used to tell most beautiful legends, he says, about the -Holy Land. Beside which, his own father fought for the Sepulchre in the -second Crusade, and dwelt in that country for several years. - -Father Eudes says it is nearly a hundred years since the kingdom of -Jerusalem was founded, for it was in the year of our Lord 1099, at the -time of the first Crusade. The first King was the gallant Count -Godefroy of Boulogne, who was unanimously chosen by all the Christian -warriors after the Holy City was taken: but he would never call himself -King, but only "Defender of the Holy Sepulchre." But, alas!--the good -King Godefroy only reigned one year; and on his death the Princes all -assembled in the Church of the Holy Sepulchre, which they also call the -Temple, to elect a successor. And because there were great contentions -among them, they resolved to decide the choice by lot: and they stood -around the tomb of our Lord, each holding a long taper, and earnestly -besought the good God that He would cause the taper held by him who -ought to be King of Jerusalem to be lighted by miracle. And when the -prayer was ended, one of the tapers was found to be burning. It was -that held by Duke Robert the Courthose, son of Lord William the Norman, -who conquered England. But to the horror of all the Princes, Duke -Robert blew out the taper, and refused to be King. He said that he was -not worthy to wear a crown of gold in that place where for his sins our -Lord had worn a crown of thorns. And I really have always felt puzzled -to know whether he acted very piously or very impiously. So, in the -end, the brother of King Godefroy was chosen; but he also left no child, -though he reigned eighteen years. But the Lady Ida, his sister, who was -a very wise and preux[#] lady, had a son, and he reigned after his uncle -for thirteen years: yet at his death he left four daughters, and no son. -And Father Eudes thinks that this showed the displeasure of our Lord, -who had willed that the kingdom of Jerusalem should belong to our Lords -the Kings of England, and they wickedly refused to receive it. - - -[#] Brave, noble, chivalrous. - - -For of course it is the bounden duty of all Christian men to rescue the -Holy Land out of the hands of Paynims, Jews, and such horrible heretics, -who all worship the Devil, and bow down to stocks and stones: since this -land belonged to our Lord Jesus Christ, who was King of it by holy Mary -His mother, and He died seised of the same. For which reason all -Christian men, who are the right heirs of our said Lord, ought to -recover their inheritance in that land, and not leave it in the hands of -wicked heretics, who have no right to it at all, since they are not the -children and right heirs of Jesus Christ our Lord.[#] - - -[#] This singular reasoning is borrowed from Sir John Mandeville. - - -Well! when King Beaudouin II. was dead, the Holy Land fell to the eldest -of his four daughters, who was named the Lady Melisende: and she wedded -Count Foulques of Anjou, and from her all the kings since then have -come: so now it seems settled in the line of Anjou. I suppose our Lords -the Kings of England, therefore, have no right to it any more. - -I cannot help feeling sorry that Duke Robert blew out the taper. I -would not have done it, if it had been mine. I think to be the Queen of -Jerusalem would be the grandest thing in all the world--even better than -to be the Empress of Monseigneur the Caesar. Is it not the Land of God? - - -A letter at last!--a letter from Guy! And he is high in the King's -favour, and has won booty to the amount of eighteen thousand golden -crowns, and he wants Amaury and me to go to him at once. I keep dancing -about and singing, I am so delighted. And not one word of the beautiful -lady! That is best of all. - -Guy says the King is a mesel,[#] and dwells in chambers to himself; and -he has never been married, so there is no Queen, except the widow of the -late King his father; and she is of the high blood of Messeigneurs the -Caesars,[#] but is not the mother of the King. He is like Guy, for his -own mother, who was the Damoiselle de Courtenay, died when he was very -young: and he has one sister of the whole blood, who is called the Lady -Sybil; and one sister of the half blood, who is called the Lady Isabel. -The Lady Sybil is a widow, though she is younger than Alix: for she was -the wife of Monseigneur Guillaume, the Marquis of Montferrat, who died -about the time Guy reached the Holy Land; and she has one child, -Monseigneur Beaudouin, named after the King his uncle. The Lady Isabel -is not yet married, and she is about fourteen years old. Guy writes -that the King, and the ladies his sisters, and the old Queen, are all -very good to him, and he is prospering marvellously. - - -[#] Leper. - -[#] She was Maria, daughter (some writers say niece) of the Emperor -Manuel Comnemus. - - -Guy's letter was brought by a holy palmer, late last night. I am sure -the palmer must be a very holy man, for he had scallops fastened to his -shovel-hat, and cross-keys embroidered on his bosom, and bells upon his -sleeve, and the holy cross upon his shoulder.[#] His cross was green, -so he must be a Fleming.[#] And whenever I came near him, there was -such a disagreeable smell, that he must, I am sure, be very holy indeed. -He told Robert, and Marguerite told me, that he had not changed his -clothes for three whole years. What a holy man he must be! I was very -glad when he gave me his benediction, though I did try to keep as much -to windward of him as I could, and I put a sprig of lavender in my -handkerchief before I asked for it. I am rather afraid Father Eudes -would say it was wicked of me to put that sprig of lavender in my -handkerchief. But really I think I should have felt quite disgusted if -I had not done so. And why should it be holy not to wash one's self? -Why don't they always leave babies unwashed, if it be, that they might -grow up to be holy men and women? - - -[#] The scallop-shell denoted a pilgrim to the shrine of St. James of -Compostella; the cross-keys, to Rome; the bells, to Canterbury (hence -the "Canterbury bell"); and the cross, to the Holy Sepulchre. - -[#] The Flemings wore a green cross, the French a red, the English a -white one. The proverbial "Red Cross Knight," therefore, strictly -speaking, could not be an Englishman. - - -I wonder if the angels like smells which we think disagreeable. If they -do, of course that would account for it. Yet one cannot imagine an -angel with soiled feathers. - -I suppose Guy would say that was another of my queer ideas. Oh, I am so -delighted that we have heard from Guy! - -Monseigneur says I must have lots of new dresses to take with me. I -have been wishing, ever so long, for a fine mantle of black cloth, lined -with minever: and he says I shall have it. And I want a golden girdle, -and a new aumoniere.[#] I should like a diaper[#] gown, too,--red and -black; and a shot silk, blue one way, and gold the other. - - -[#] The bag which depended from the girdle. - -[#] This term seems to have indicated stuff woven in any small regular -pattern, not flowers. - - -My gracious Lord asked me what gems I would best like. - -"Oh, agate or cornelian, if it please your Nobility," said I, "because -they make people amiable." - -He pinched my ear, and said he thought I was amiable enough: he would -give me a set of jacinths.[#] - - -[#] These gems were believed to possess the properties in question. - - -"What, to send me to sleep?" said I, laughing. - -"Just so," he answered. "Thou art somewhat too wide-awake." - -"What do you please to mean, Monseigneur?" - -He smiled, but then sighed heavily, and stroked my head. - -"Ah, my little Lynette!" he said. "If thy blessed mother had but lived! -I know not--truly I know not--whether I act for thy real welfare or not. -The good God forgive our blunders, poor blindlings that we are!" And he -rose and went away. - -But of course it must be for my welfare that I should go to Guy, and get -some appointment in the household of one of the Princesses, and see -life, and--well, I don't know about getting married. I might not have -so much of my own way. And I like that dearly. Besides, if I were -married I could not be always with Guy. I think I won't, on the whole. - -I asked Marguerite to-night if she could tell why holy people did not -wash: and she said she thought they did. - -"Well," said I, "but yonder holy palmer had not taken his clothes off -for three years; and I am sure, Margot, he did not smell nice." - -"I think," said Marguerite, "under leave of my Damoiselle, he would have -been at least as holy if he had changed them once a month." - -"O Margot! is not that heterodoxy?" asked I, laughing. - -"Let my Damoiselle pardon her servant--no! Did not Monseigneur Saint -Paul himself say that men should wash their bodies with pure water?" - -"I am sure I don't know," said I. "I always thought, the holier you -were, and the dirtier. And that is one reason why I always thought, -too, that I could never be holy. I should want my hands and face clean, -at least." - -"Did my Damoiselle think she could never be holy?" - -"Yes, I did, Margot, and do." - -"Wherefore? Let her forgive her poor servant." - -"Oh, holiness seems to mean all sorts of unpleasant things," said I. -"You must not wash, nor lie on a comfortable bed, nor wear anything -nice, nor dance, nor sing, nor have any pleasure. I don't want to be -holy. I really could not do with it, Margot." - -"Under my Damoiselle's leave, all those things she has mentioned seem to -me to be outside things. And--unless I mistake, for I am but an ignorant -creature--holiness must be something inside. My soul is inside of me; -and to clean my soul, I must have something that will go inside to it. -The inside principle will be sure to put all the outside things -straight, will it not? But I do not see what the outside things can do -to the inside--except that sometimes they make us cross. But then it is -we who are wrong, not they." - -"Dost thou suppose it is wicked to be cross, Margot?" - -"Damoiselle, Father Eudes once read a list of the good things that a -true Christian ought to have in his heart,--there were nine of them: -'love, joy, peace, long-suffering, gentleness, goodness, faith, -meekness, temperance.' I think one cannot have many of them when one is -cross and peevish." - -"Then thou dost not think it sinful to delight in fine clothes and -jewels, and lie in a soft bed, and have dainties for dinner?--for all -those are outside." - -"Ha! yes, my Damoiselle. Those are the world's substitute for -happiness." - -"Now, what dost thou mean, Margot?" laughed I. "Have I not all these -good things?--and am I not happy?" - -"All these,--ah, yes. But, happy? No, no. My Damoiselle is not -happy." - -"Why, what wilt thou say next?" cried I. - -"Will my Damoiselle permit her poor servant to ask her a question?" - -"Oh yes!--anything thou wilt." - -"Then is my Damoiselle quite certain--safely, happily certain--what will -become of her when she shall die?" - -"O Margot, what an ugly question! I hate to think of it Why, I suppose -I shall go to Heaven--why should I not? Don't all nobles go there, -except those who are very, very wicked?" - -"Ha! She hates to think of it? Wherefore?" - -"Why, everybody does, of course." - -"Let my Damoiselle pardon me. Not I." - -"Oh, thou art an old woman, and hast outlived thy youth and its -pleasures. No wonder." - -"My Damoiselle will find, as life goes on, that the older she grows, the -more distasteful that thought becomes to her. That is, unless she -should learn to be happy, which may the good God grant!" - -I could not help laughing heartily. For a young noble maiden like me, -to take lessons of a forlorn old creature like Margot, in the art of -being happy, did seem so very ridiculous. - -"Ah, my Damoiselle may laugh now," said Marguerite in her quiet way; -"but I have told the sober truth." - -"Oh dear!" said I. "I think I had better sleep on it.--Margot, art thou -not very much pleased at the thought of going to the Holy Land?" - -"Ah, yes, my Damoiselle, very much. I would dearly like to behold the -earth which the feet of the blessed Lord have trodden,--the lake on -which He walked, and the hill from which He went up. Ah! 'He shall so -come'--'this same Jesus'!" - -I looked at her in astonishment. The worn old face and sunken eyes -seemed alight with some hidden rapture. I could not understand her. - -"And the Holy Sepulchre!" I said; for that is holiest of all the holy -places, as everybody knows. - -"Well, I should not so much care to see that," answered Marguerite, to -my surprise. "'He is not there; He is risen.' If a dear friend of mine -had gone on a journey, I should not make a pet of the saddle on which he -rode away. I should rather want not to see it, for it would always -remind me that he was gone." - -"Marguerite!" exclaimed I, "dost thou not know that a neuvaine offered -at the Holy Sepulchre is of more efficacy than ten offered at any other -altar?" - -"Will my Damoiselle give me leave to wait till I see it? Of course, if -the good God choose to have it so, there is an end of the matter. But I -think I would rather be sure. For me, I should like to pray in the -Church of the Nativity, to thank Him for coming as a little babe into -this weary world: and in the Church of the Ascension, to beg Him to -hasten His coming again." - -"Ah, the Church of the Ascension!" said I. "There are pillars in that -church, nearly close to the wall; and the man who can creep between the -wall and the pillar has full remission of all his sins." - -"Is that in the holy Evangel?" asked Marguerite; but I could not tell -her. - -"I fancy there may be some mistake about that," she added. "Of course, -if it be in the holy Evangel! But it does not look quite of a piece -with what Father Eudes reads. He read one day out of the writing of -Monseigneur Saint John, that the blood of Jesus Christ, the blessed -Lord, cleansed us from all sin: and another time--I think he said it was -from the Evangel of Monseigneur Saint Matthew--he read that if a man did -but ask the good God for salvation, it should be given him. Well! I -asked, and He gave it me. Could He give me anything more?--or would He -be likely to do it because I crept between a wall and a pillar?" - -"Why, Marguerite! Hast thou been listening to some of those wicked -Lyonnese, that go preaching up and down? Dost thou not know that King -Henry the father hath strictly forbidden any man to harbour one of that -rabble?" - -"If it please my Damoiselle, I know nothing at all about them." - -"Why, it is a merchant of Lyons, named Pierre Waldo, and a lot more with -him; they go up and down the country, preaching, and corrupting people -from the pure Catholic faith. Hast thou listened to any such preachers, -Margot?" - -"Ha, my Damoiselle, what know I? There was a Grey Friar at the Cross a -few weeks since"---- - -"Oh, of course, the holy brethren of Saint Augustine are all right," -said I. - -"Well, and last Sunday there was a man there, not exactly in a friar's -robe, but clad in sackcloth, as if he were in mourning; but he said none -but very good words; they were just like the holy Evangel which Father -Eudes reads. Very comforting words they were, too. He said the good -Lord cared even for the sparrows, poor little things!--and very much -more for us that trusted Him. I should like to hear him preach again." - -"Take care how thou dost!" said I, as I lay down in bed. "I am afraid, -Margot, he is one of those Lyonnese serpents." - -"Well!" said Marguerite, as she tucked me up, "he had no sting, if he -were." - -"No, the sting comes afterwards," said I. "And thou art but a poor -villein, and ignorant, and quite unable to judge which is the true -doctrine of holy Church, and which the wicked heresy that we must shut -our ears against." - -"True, my Damoiselle," said old Marguerite meekly. "But to say that the -dear, blessed Lord cares for His poor servants--no, no!--that is no -heresy!" - -"What is heresy?" said I. "And what is truth? Oh dear! If one might -know, one's own self!" - -"Ah! Pilatus asked that of the good God, when He stood before his -judgment-seat. But he did not wait for the answer." - -"I wish he had done!" I answered. "Then we might have known it. But I -suppose the good Lord would have told him to submit himself to the -Church. So we should not have been much better off, because we do know -that." - -"We are better off, my Damoiselle," said old Marguerite. "For though -the good God did not answer Pilatus--maybe he was not worthy--He did -answer the same question, asked by Monseigneur Saint Thomas. Did not my -Damoiselle hear Father Eudes read that in French? It was only a few -weeks ago." - -I shook my head. I cannot imagine when or how Marguerite does hear all -these things. I never do. But she went on. - -"It was one day when the good Lord had told Messeigneurs the Apostles -that He was going to ascend to Heaven: and He said, 'The way ye know.' -But Monseigneur Saint Thomas--ah! he was rather like my Damoiselle; he -wanted to know!--he replied that they did not know the way. (If he had -not been a holy apostle, I should not have thought it very civil to -contradict his Seigneur, let alone the good Lord.) But the good God was -not angry: He saw, I suppose, that Monseigneur Saint Thomas did not mean -anything wrong, but he wanted to know, like a damoiselle of the House of -Lusignan. So He said, 'I am the way, and the truth, and the life: no man -cometh unto the Father but by Me.'" - -"But I do not see what that means," said I. "Truth cannot be a -person,--a man cannot be a way. Of course it is a figure of speech; but -still I do not see what it means." - -I was very sleepy, and I fancy rather cross. Marguerite stooped and -kissed my hand, and then turned and put out the light. - -"Rest, my fair Damoiselle," she said, tenderly. "And may the good God -show my darling what it means!" - - - - - *CHAPTER IV.* - - _*A JOURNEY--AND THE END OF IT*_*.* - - - "A violet by a mossy stone, - Half hidden from the eye: - Fair as a star when only one - Is shining in the sky." - --WORDSWORTH. - - -Bound for the East Countrie! Ay, we are fairly off at last, Amaury and -I,--with old Marguerite, and her niece Perette, and Bertrade, Robert's -daughter, and Robert himself, to wait upon me; and an escort of armed -men, and Amaury's attendants. - -Yet it was not all brightness when we came to leave the Castle. Alix -and Messire Raymond were there to take leave of us: and I really -fancied--it must have been fancy!--that there were tears in Alix's eyes -when she kissed me. There were none in Umberge's, nor in Guillot's. -But Raoul cried honestly; though Amaury said afterwards that he believed -three-quarters of Raoul's tears were due to his having to stay behind. -Father Eudes gave me his blessing; and he wept too, poor old man! I -dare say he was sorry. He was here before I was born. Then the maidens -and servants came forward, the women kissing my hand, and the men my -robe: and last of all I came to Monseigneur, our father. - -He folded me close in his arms, and bent his head down upon mine; and I -felt two or three hot tears on my brow. - -"My little Lynette!" he said. "My little, little girl! The one bud of -my one love! Must I let thee go? Ha, well!--it is for thy welfare. -The good God bless thee, _mignonne_, and Messeigneurs and Mesdames the -saints. Please God, little maiden, we shall meet in Jerusalem." - -"Meet in Jerusalem?" I said in surprise. This was news to me--that -Monseigneur meant to take the cross. - -"Ay," said he softly, "in the '_Syon Aurea, ut clarior oro_.' There is -an upper City, my child, which is fairer than the lower. Jesu, of His -mercy, bring us both there!" - -"Amen!" said Father Eudes. "Dame Mary, pray for us poor sinners!" - -There was a great bustle after that, and noise, and clashing; and I do -not remember much distinctly, till I got into the litter with Bertrade, -and then first Amaury set forth on his charger, with his squires after -him, and then Marguerite behind Robert on horseback, and Perette behind -Amaury's varlet, who is a cousin of hers; and then my litter moved -forward, with the armed men around and behind. I just saw them all -clearly for one moment--Alix with her lips set, looking at us, as if she -were determined not to say a word; and Messire Raymond smoothing his -moustache; and Guillot with an old shoe poised in the air, which hit my -fore postilion the next minute; and Umberge with that fair false smile -with which she deludes every one at first sight; and Monseigneur, with -his arms folded, and the tears fairly running down his cheeks, and his -lips working as if he were deeply grieved. Just for one minute there -they all stood; and I think they will make a picture in my eyes till the -end of time for me. And then my litter was drawn out of the Castle -gate, and the horses tramped across the drawbridge, and down the slope -below: and I drew the curtain of the litter aside, and looked back to -see my dear old home, the fair strong Castle of Lusignan, growing less -and less behind me every moment, till at last it faded into a more dim -speck in the distance, and I felt that my long and venturesome journey -had begun. - -Oh, why do people never let us know how much they love us, until just as -we unclasp hands and part? - -Do they always know it themselves? - -And I wonder whether dying is anything like this. Do men go a long -journey to God, with an armed escort of angels, and do they see the -world go less and less behind them as they mount? I will ask Margot -what she thinks. She is but a villein, in truth, but then she has such -curious fancies. - -I have asked Marguerite, and she shakes her head. - -"Ha! no, my Damoiselle. It can be no long journey to God. Father Eudes -said but last Sunday, reading from the Breviary, in his sermon, that 'He -is not far from every one of us.' And the good thief Ditmas, that was -crucified with God, was there in half a day. It can only be a little -way to Heaven. Ah! much less than half a day, it must be; for did not -Monseigneur Saint Gabriel, the holy Archangel, begin to fly when -Monseigneur Saint Daniel began to pray?--and he was there before he had -finished his beads. It is a long while since Father Eudes told us that; -and I thought it so comforting, because it showed that Heaven was not -far, and also that the good Lord listens so quickly when we call. Ah! -I have to say, 'Wait, Heloise!--I am listening to Perette:' but the good -Lord does not need to do that. He can hear my Lady the Queen, and the -Lady Alix, and Monseigneur Guy, and my Damoiselle, and her servant -Marguerite, all at once." - -Yes, I suppose it must be so, though I cannot understand it. One has to -believe so many things that one cannot understand. Do we even know how -we live from day to day? Of course it is known that we have certain -organs in our bodies, by which we breathe, and speak, and walk, and -digest food; but can any one tell _how_ all they do goes to make up what -we call life? I do not believe it. - -We took our way by Poictiers, across the duchies of Berry and Burgundy, -and through Franche-Comte, crossing some terrible mountains between -Besancon and Neufchatel. Then we travelled across Switzerland--Oh, how -beautiful it is! I felt as though I should have been content to stay -there, and never go any farther. But Amaury said that was just like a -silly girl. What man, said he--with such an accent on the _man_!--ever -wanted to stop away from gorgeous pageants and gallant deeds of arms, -just to stare at a big hill with some snow on it, or a pool of water -with some trees round it? How could any body make a name in that -foolish way?--said Messire Amaury. - -But old Marguerite thought with me. "Damoiselle," she said, "I am very -thankful I came on this journey. Methinks I have a better notion what -Heaven will be like than I had before we left Poitou. I did not know -the good God was so rich. There seems to be no end to the beautiful -things He can make. Oh, how beautiful He Himself must be! And we shall -see His face. Father Eudes read it." - -Whatever one says to Marguerite, she always finds something to say in -answer about the good God. Surely she should have been a nun. - -We came into Italy through two great passes,--one over the Julier -mountain, so called from Julius Caesar, the great Emperor, who made the -road by help of the black art, and set up two pillars on the summit to -commemorate his deeds: and then, passing through a beautiful valley, -where all flowers of the year were out together, and there was a lovely -chain of lakes,--(which naughty Amaury scornfully called crocuses and -dirty water!)--we wound up hill after hill, until at last it really -seemed as if we must have reached the top of the world. Here were two -small lakes, at the foot of a drear slope of ice, which in these parts -they call a glacier: and they call them the Black Lake and the White -Lake. We had two sturdy peasants as guides over the mountains, and I -should have liked dearly to talk with them about their country, but of -course it would not have been seemly in a damsel of my rank: _noblesse -oblige_. But I got Marguerite to ask them several questions, for their -language is sufficiently like the Langue d'Oc[#] for us to understand -them, though they speak very thickly and indistinctly. They told -Marguerite that their beautiful valley is named the Val Engiadina,[#] -and they were originally a colony from Italy, who fled from a -persecution of the Saracens.[#] This pass is called the Bernina, for -_berne_ in their tongue signifies a bear, and there are many bears about -here in winter. And they say this mountain is the top of the world, for -here the waters separate, on the one side flowing far away into Asia, -near the place where Adam dwelt in Paradise;[#] and on the other, into -the great western sea,[#] which we shall shortly have to cross. And -here, on the very summit of this mountain, dwelt a holy hermit, who gave -me a shelter in his hut, while the men camped outside round great fires; -for though it was August, yet at this great height it was quite cold. -And so, through the pass, we wound slowly down into Italy. - - -[#] Two cognate languages were at this time spoken in France; north of -the Loire, the Langue d'Oil, and south, the Langue d'Oc, both words -meaning _yes_ in the respective languages. The more northern language -was the harsher, _ch_ being sounded as _k_, just as _church_ in England -becomes _kirk_ in Scotland. _Cher, chaise, chien_, therefore, were -pronounced _ker, kaise, kien_, in the Langue d'Oil. - -[#] The Engadine. - -[#] All the evil done or doing in the world was at this time attributed -to the Saracens. The colony is supposed to have arisen from the flight -of a group of Christians in the persecution under Diocletian. - -[#] The Black Sea. - -[#] The Mediterranean. - - -Marguerite and Perette were both full of the beauty they had seen in the -great glacier, on which they went with the guides: but it would not have -done for a damsel of my rank, and really I saw no beauty in it from -across the lake; it looked like a quantity of very dirty ice, with ashes -scattered over it. But they said it was full of deep cracks or -fissures, in which were the loveliest colours that human eye could see -or heart imagine. - -"Ah! I can guess now!" said Marguerite. "I could not think what -Monseigneur Saint John meant when he said the city was gold like clear -crystal. I know now. Damoiselle, in the glacier there are walls of -light, the sweetest green shading into blue that my Damoiselle can -possibly imagine: they must be like that, but golden. Ha! if my -Damoiselle had seen it! The great nobles have not all the good things. -It is well not to be so high up that one cannot see the riches of the -good God." - -She has the queerest notions! - -Well!--we travelled on through Lombardy, and tarried a few days at -Milan, whence we journeyed to Venice, which is the strangest place I -ever saw or dreamed of, for all the streets are canals, and one calls -for one's boat where other people order their horses. The Duke of -Venice, who is called the Doge, was very kind to us. He told us at -supper a comical story of a Duchess of Venice who lived about a hundred -years ago. She so dearly loved ease and luxury that she thought it too -much trouble to eat with her fingers like everybody else; and she -actually caused her attendants to cut her meat into little pieces, like -dice, and then she had a curious instrument with two prongs,[#] made of -gold, with which she picked up the bits and put them in her dainty -mouth. Only fancy! - - -[#] The first fork on record. - - -At Venice we embarked, and sailed to Messina, where most of the pilgrims -for the Holy Land assemble, as it is the most convenient port. We did -not go overland, as some pilgrims do, through the dominions of the -Byzantine Caesar;[#] but we sailed thence to Crete. I was rather sorry -to miss Byzantium,[#] both on account of the beautiful stuffs which are -sold there, and the holy relics: but since I have seen a spine of the -crown of thorns, which the Lady de Montbeillard has--she gave seven -hundred crowns for it to Monseigneur de Rheims[#]--I did not care so -much about the relics as I might otherwise have done. Perhaps I shall -meet with the same kind of stuffs in Palestine; and certainly there will -be relics enough. - - -[#] The Eastern Emperor; his dominions in Europe extended over Greece -and Turkey. - -[#] Constantinople. - -[#] The Archbishop. - - -From Crete we sailed to Rhodes, and thence to Cyprus. They all say that -I am an excellent sailor, for I feel no illness nor inconvenience at -all; but poor Bertrade has been dreadfully ill, and Marguerite and -Perette say they both feel very uncomfortable on the water. At Cyprus -is an abbey of monks, on the Hill of the Holy Cross; and here Amaury and -his men were housed for the night, and I and my women at a convent of -nuns not far off. At the Abbey they have a cross, which they say is the -very cross on which our Lord suffered, but some say it is only the cross -of Ditmas, the good thief. I was rather puzzled to know whether, there -being a doubt whether it really is the holy cross, it ought to be -worshipped. If it be only a piece of common wood, I suppose it would be -idolatry. So I thought it more right and seemly to profess to have a -bad headache, and decline to mount the hill. I asked Amaury what he had -done. - -"Oh! worshipped it, of course," said he. - -"But how if it were not the true cross?" I asked. - -"My sister, wouldst thou have a knight thus discourteous? The monks -believe it true. It would have hurt their feelings to show any doubt." - -"But, Amaury, it would be idolatry!" - -"Ha, bah!" he answered. "The angels will see it put to the right -account--no doubt of that. Dear me!--if one is to be for ever -considering little scruples like that, why, there would be no end to -them--one would never do any thing." - -Then I asked Marguerite if she went up to worship the holy cross. - -"No, Damoiselle," said she. "The Grey Friar said we worship not the -cross, but the good God that died thereon. And I suppose He is as near -to us at the bottom of the hill as at the top." - -Well, it does look reasonable, I must say. But it must be one of -Marguerite's queer notions. There would be no good in relics and holy -places if that were always true. - -This island of Cyprus is large and fair. It was of old time dedicated -by the Paynims to Venus, their goddess of beauty: but when it fell into -Christian hands, it was consecrated anew to Mary the holy Mother. - -From Cyprus we sailed again, a day and a half, to Tyre; but we did not -land there, but coasted southwards to the great city of Acre, and there -at last we took land in Palestine. - -Here we were lodged in the castle, which is very strong: and we found -already here some friends of Amaury, the Baron de Montluc and his two -sons, who had landed about three weeks before us. Hence we despatched a -letter to Guy. I was the writer, of course, for Amaury can write -nothing but his name; but he signed the letter with me. Messire Renaud -de Montluc, who was setting out for the Holy City, undertook to see the -letter safe. We were to follow more slowly. - -We remained at Acre about ten days. Then we set forth, Amaury and I, -the Baron de Montluc and his son Messire Tristan, and several other -knights who were waiting for a company, with our respective trains; and -the Governor of Acre lent us an additional convoy of armed men, to see -us safe to the Holy City. - -This was my first experience of tent life; and very strange it felt, and -horribly insecure. I, accustomed to dwell within walls several feet -thick, with portcullis and doors guarded by bolts and bars, in a chamber -opening on an inner court, to have no more than one fold of goats' hair -canvas between me and the outside world! True, the men-at-arms were -camped outside; but that was no more than a castle garrison: and where -was the castle? - -"Margot," said I, "dost thou not feel horribly frightened?" - -For of course, she, a villein, would be more accessible to fear than a -noble. - -"Oh no, my Damoiselle," she said very quietly. "Is it not in the holy -Psalter that 'the Angel of the Lord encampeth round about them that fear -Him, and delivereth them'? We are as safe as in the Castle of -Lusignan." - -It is a very good thing for Marguerite and the maidens that I am here. -Because, of course, the holy angels, who are of high rank, would never -think of taking care of mere villeins. It must mean persons of noble -blood. - -We journeyed on southwards slowly, pausing at the holy -places--Capernaum, where Messeigneurs Saint Peter and Saint Andrew dwelt -before they followed our Lord; and where Monseigneur Saint Peter left -Madame his wife, and his daughter, Madame Saint Petronilla, when he -became our Lord's disciple. Of course, he was obliged to leave them -behind, for a holy apostle could not have a wife. (Marguerite says that -man in sackcloth, who preached at the Cross at Lusignan, said that in -the early ages of the Church, priests and even bishops used to be -married men, and that it would have been better if they had continued to -be so. I am afraid he must be a very wicked person, and one of those -heretical Waldenses.) We also tarried a while at Caesarea, where our -Lord gave the keys to Monseigneur Saint Peter, and appointed him the -first Bishop of Rome; and Nazareth, where our Lady was born and spent -her early life. Not far from Neapolis,[#] anciently called Sychem, they -show the ruins of a palace, where dwelt King Ahab, who was a very wicked -Paynim, and had a Saracen to his wife. At Neapolis is the well of -Monseigneur Saint Jacob, on which our Lord once sat when He was weary. -This was the only holy place we passed which old Marguerite had the -curiosity to go and see. - - -[#] Nablous. - - -"Now, what made thee care more for that than any other?" I asked her. -"Of course it was a holy place, but there was nothing to look at save a -stone well in a valley. Our Lady's Fountain, at Nazareth, was much -prettier." - -"Ah, my Damoiselle is young and blithe!" she said, and smiled. "It is -long, long since I was a young mother like our Lady, and longer still -since I was a little child. But the bare old well in the stony -valley--that came home to me. He was weary! Yet He was God. He is -rested now, on the throne of His glory: yet He cares for me, that am -weary still. So I just knelt down at the old well, and I said to Him, -in my ignorant way,--'Fair Father,[#] Jesu Christ, I thank Thee that -Thou wert weary, and that by Thy weariness thou hast given me rest.' It -felt to rest me,--a visit to the place where He sat, tired and hungry. -But my Damoiselle cannot understand." - - -[#] "Bel Pere"--one of the invocations then usual. - - -"No, Margot, I don't at all," said I. - -"Ah, no! It takes a tired man to know the sweetness of rest." - -Three days' journey through the Val de Luna, which used to be called the -Vale of Ajalon, brought us to the city of Gran David, which was of old -named Gibeon. The valley is styled De Luna because it was here that -Monseigneur Saint Joshua commanded the sun and moon to stand still while -he vanquished the Paynims. From Gran David it is only one day's journey -to the Holy City. - -"To-morrow, Margot!" said I, in great glee. "Only to-morrow, we shall -see the Holy Sepulchre!" - -"Ha! Thanks be to the good God. And we need not wait till to-morrow to -see Him that rose from it." - -"Why, Marguerite, dost thou ever have visions?" - -"Visions? Oh no! Those are for the holy saints; not for a poor -ignorant villein woman like me." - -"Then what didst thou mean, just now?" - -"Ah, my Damoiselle cannot understand." - -"Margot, I don't like that. Thou art always saying it. I want to -understand." - -"Then she must ask the good God to show her." - -And that is all I can get out of her. - -Short of a league from the Holy City is the little hill called Mont -Joie, because from it the palmers catch the first glimpse of the blessed -Jerusalem. We were mounting, as it seemed to me, a low hillock, when -Amaury rode up beside me, and parting the curtains, said-- - -"Now, Elaine, look out, for we are on the Mont Joie. Wilt thou light -down?" - -"Certainly," I answered. - -So Amaury stopped the litter, and gave me his hand, and I jumped out. -He took me to the place where the palmers kneel in thanksgiving for -being brought thus far on their journey: and here I had my first sight -of the Holy City. - -It is but a small city, yet strongly fortified, having three walls. No -Paynim is permitted to enter it, nor of course any heathen Jew. I -cannot imagine how it was that the good God ever suffered the Holy City, -even for an hour, to be in the hands of those wicked people. Yet last -night, in the tent, if Marguerite did not ask me whether Monseigneur -Saint Paul was not a Jew! I was shocked. - -"Oh dear, no!" said I. - -"I heard somebody say so," she replied. - -"I should think it was some Paynim," said I. "Why, of course none of the -holy Apostles were Jews. That miscreant Judas Iscariot, and Pontius -Pilatus, and all those wicked people, I suppose, were Jews: but not the -holy Apostles and the saints. It is quite shocking to think of such a -thing!" - -"Then what were they, if my Damoiselle pleases?" said Marguerite. - -"Oh, they were of some other nation," said I. - -For really, I do not know of what nation they were,--only that they -could never have been Jews. - -Amaury said that we must first visit the Holy Sepulchre; so, though I -was dying to have news of Guy, I comforted myself with the thought that -I should hereby acquire so much more merit than if I had not cared about -it. - -We entered the Holy City by the west gate, just as the dusk was -beginning; and passing in single file along the streets, we descended -the hill of Zion to the Holy Sepulchre. - -In this church are kept many holy relics. In the courtyard is the -prison where our Lord was confined after His betrayal, and the pillar to -which He was bound when scourged: and in the portico the lance which -pierced His side. The stone which the Angel rolled away from the -sepulchre is now broken in two. Here our Lady died, and was buried in -the Church of Saint Mary, close by. In this church is kept the cup of -our Lord, out of which He habitually drank: it is of silver, with a -handle on each side, and holds about a quart. Here also is the sponge -which was held to His mouth, and the crown of thorns. (By a miracle of -the good God, one half of the crown is also at Byzantium.) The tomb of -our Lord is seven feet long, and rises three palms from the floor; -fifteen golden lamps burn before it, day and night. I told the whole -Rosary at the holy tomb, or should have done, for I felt that the longer -I waited to see Guy, the more merit I should heap up: but Amaury became -impatient, and insisted on my coming when a Pater and eight Aves were -still to say. - -Then we mounted the hill of Zion again, passing the church built in -honour of the Prince of the Apostles, on the spot where he denied our -Lord: and so we reached the King's Palace at last. - -Amaury sprang from his horse, and motioned my postilion to draw up in -front of the chief gate. I heard him say to the porter-- - -"Is Sir Guy de Lusignan here?" - -"My gracious Lord, the Count of Joppa and Ascalon, is here, if it like -you, noble Sir," replied the porter. "He is at this moment in audience -of my Lady the Queen." - -I was so glad to hear it. Then Guy had really been created a Count! He -must be in high favour. One half of his prophecy was fulfilled. But -what about the other? - -"Pray you," said Amaury to the porter, "do my Lord Count to wit that his -brother, Sir Amaury de Lusignan, and his sister, the Lady Elaine, are -before the gate." - -I hardly know how I got through the next ten minutes. Then came quick -steps, a sound of speech, a laugh, and then my curtains were pushed -aside, and the voice I loved best in all the world said-- - -"Lynette! Lynette, my darling!" - -Ay, it was my own Guy who came back to me. Changed?--no, not really -changed at all. A little older; a little more bronzed; a little longer -and fuller in the beard:--that was all. But it was my Guy, himself. - -"Come! jump out," he said, holding his hand, "and let me present thee to -the Lady Queen. I long to see my Lynette the fairest ornament of her -Court. And how goes it with Monseigneur, our fair father?" - -So, talking all the way, I walked with Guy, hand in hand, up the stairs, -and into the very bower of the imperial lady who bears the crown of all -the world, since it is the flower of all the crowns. - -"I can assure thee," said Guy, "the Lady Queen has often talked of thee, -and is prepared to welcome thee." - -It was a beautiful room, though small, decorated with carved and -fragrant cedar-work, and hung with blue and gold. Round the walls were -blue and gold settles, and three curule chairs in the midst. There were -only three ladies there,--but I must describe them. - -The Queen, who sat in one of the curule chairs, was rather short and -stout, with a pleasant, motherly sort of look. She appeared to be -between forty and fifty years of age. Her daughter, the Lady Isabel, -who sat in another chair, busied with some embroidery, was apparently -about eighteen; but Guy told me afterwards that she is only fifteen, for -women ripen early in these Eastern lands, and grow old fast. She has -luxuriant black hair and dark shining eyes. On the settle was a damsel a -little older than the Princess, not quite so dark, nor so handsome. -She, as I afterwards found, was the Damoiselle Melisende de -Courtenay,[#] a distant relative of the King, who dwells with the -Princesses. Guy led me up to the Queen. - - -[#] A fictitious person. Millicent is the modern version of this old -Gothic name. It comes from Amala-suinde, and signifies -_heavenly-wisdom_. - - -"Madam," said he, "your Highness has heard me often speak of my younger -sister." - -"Ha! the little Damoiselle Helena?"[#] replied the Queen, smiling very -kindly. "Be welcome, my child. I have indeed heard much of you; this -brother of yours thinks nobody like you in the world,--not even one, eh, -Sir Count?--Isabel! I desire thee to make much of the Damoiselle, and -let her feel herself at home. And,--Melisende! I pray thee, give order -for her lodging, and let her women be seen to. Ah!--here comes another -who will be glad to be acquainted with you." - - -[#] Helen is really quite distinct from Ellen, of which lost Elaine is -the older form. The former is a Greek name signifying _attractive, -captivating_. The latter is the feminine of the Celtic name -Alain,--more generally written Alan or Allan,--and means -_bright-haired_. Eleanor (it is a mistake as regards philology to write -Elinor) is simply an amplification of Ellen by the addition of "or," -_gold_. It denotes, therefore, _hair bright as gold_. Annora is a -corruption of Eleanor, and Nora or Norah a further contraction of -Annora. - - -I turned round to see at whom the Queen was looking. An inner door of -the chamber had just opened, and two ladies were coming into the room. -At the one I scarcely looked, save to see that she was old, and wore the -garb of a nun. The other fixed my eyes in an instant. - -Shall I say she was beautiful? I do not know. She has a face about -which one never thinks whether it is beautiful or not. She is so sweet, -so sweet! Her hair is long, of a glossy golden hue: her eyes are dark -grey, and all her soul shines out in them. Her age seemed about twenty. -And Guy said behind me, in a whisper-- - -"The Lady Sybil of Montferrat." - -Something in Guy's tone made me glance suddenly at his face. My heart -felt for a moment as if it stopped beating. The thing that I feared was -come upon me. The whole prophecy was fulfilled: the beautiful lady -stood before me. I should be first with Guy no longer. - -But I did not feel so grieved as I expected. And when Lady Sybil put -her arms round me, and kissed me, and told me I should be her dear -little sister,--though I felt that matters must have gone very far -indeed, yet somehow I was almost glad that Guy had found a heart to love -him in this strange land. - -The old nun proved to be a cousin of the Queen, whom they call Lady -Judith.[#] She is an eremitess, and dwells in her cell in the very -Palace itself. I notice that Lady Sybil seems very fond of her. - - -[#] A fictitious person. - - -Damoiselle Melisende showed me a nice bed-chamber, where I and my three -women were to lodge. I was very tired, and the Queen saw it, and in her -motherly way insisted on my having some supper, and going to bed at -once. So I did not even wait to see Amaury again, and Guy went to look -for him and bring him up to the Queen. The King, being a mesel, dwells -alone in his own rooms, and receives none. When Guy has to communicate -with him, he tells me that he talks with him through a lattice, and a -fire of aromatic woods burns between them. But I can see that Guy is a -very great man here, and has the affairs of the State almost in his own -hands. - -I said to Marguerite as I was undressing,--"Margot, I think Count Guy is -going to marry somebody." - -"Why, if it please my Damoiselle?" - -"From the way he looks at Lady Sybil, and--other things." - -"Your gracious pardon, but--is he less loving to my Damoiselle?" - -"Oh no!--more loving and tender than ever, if that be possible." - -"Then it is all right," said Marguerite. "He loves her." - -"What dost thou mean, Margot?" - -"When a man marries, my Damoiselle, one of three things happens. Either -he weds from policy, and has no love for his lady; but Monseigneur Guy -loves to look at her, so it is not that. Or, he loves himself, and she -is merely a toy which ministers to his pleasure. Then he would be -absorbed in himself and her, and not notice whether any other were happy -or unhappy. But if he loves her, with that true, faithful, honourable -love, which is one of God's best gifts, then he will be courteous and -tender towards all women, because she is one. And especially to his own -relatives, being women, who love him, he will be very loving indeed. -That is why I asked." - -"O Margot, Margot!" I said, laughing. "Where on earth dost thou find -all thy queer notions?" - -"Not all on earth, my Damoiselle. But, for many of them, all that is -wanted is just to keep one's eyes open." - -"Are my eyes open, Margot?" - -"My Damoiselle had better shut them now," replied Marguerite, a little -drily. "She can open them again to-morrow." - -So I went to sleep, and dreamed that Guy married Lady Judith, in her -nun's attire, and that I was in great distress at the sacrilege, and -could do nothing to avert it. - - - - - *CHAPTER V.* - - _*CURIOUS NOTIONS*_*.* - - -"The soul, doubtless, is immortal--where a soul can be discerned." - --ROBERT BROWNING. - - -For the last few weeks, since we reached Jerusalem, I have been very -busy going about with the Damoiselle Melisende, and sometimes the Lady -Isabel, with Amaury as escort. We have now visited all the holy places -within one day's journey. I commanded Marguerite to attend me, for it -amuses me afterwards to hear what she has to say. - -We went to the Church of Saint Mary, in the Valley of Jehoshaphat, which -is built in a round form; and in it is the empty tomb in which our Lady -was buried. So some say, and that the angels carried her body away in -the night: but other some say, that while the holy Apostles were -carrying her to her burial, the angels came down and bore her away to -Paradise. I asked Margot (as she always listens) if she had heard -Father Eudes read about it from the holy Evangel: but she said he had -never read the story of that, at least in French. In this church there -is a stone in the wall, on which our Lord knelt to pray on the night of -His betrayal; and on it is the impression of His knees, as if the stone -were wax. There is no roof to the church, but by miraculous provision -of the good God, the rain never falls on it. Here also, our Lord's -body, when taken down from the cross, was wrapped and anointed. - -We also visited the Church of the Holy Ghost, where is the marble table -at which our Lord and the holy Apostles ate the Last Supper, and they -received the Holy Sacrament at His hands. There is also a chapel, with -an altar whereat our Lord heard mass sung by the angels; and here is -kept the vessel wherein our Lord washed the feet of His disciples. All -these are on Mount Zion. - -Marguerite was very much interested in the vessel in which the holy -Apostles' feet were washed: but she wanted to know which of them had put -it by and kept it so carefully. This, of course, I could not tell her. -Perhaps it was revealed by miracle that this was the vessel. - -"Ah, well!" she said, turning away at last, with a contented face. "It -does not much matter, if only the good God wash our feet." - -"But that cannot be, Margot!" said I. - -Lady Judith was with us that day, and she laid her hand on my arm. - -"Child," said she gently, "'if He wash thee not, thou hast no part with -Him.'" - -"And," said Marguerite, "my Lady will pardon me,--if He wash us, we have -part with Him." - -"Ay," answered Lady Judith. "'Heirs of God, joint-heirs with Christ.' -Thou knowest it, my sister?--thou hast washed? Ay, 'we believers enter -into rest.'" - -I wondered what they were talking about. Lady Judith--of the Caesars' -purple blood, and born in a palace at Constantinople; and old -Marguerite,--a villein, born in a hovel in Poitou,--marvel to relate! -they understood each other perfectly. They have seemed quite friendly -ever since. It can hardly be because they are both old. There must be -some mystery. I do not understand it at all. - -Another day, we went to the Church of the Ascension, which is on the -summit of Mount Olivet. This also has an open roof. When our Lord -ascended, He left the impression of His feet in the dust; and though -palmers are constantly carrying the holy dust away by basketsful, yet -the impression never changes. This seemed to me so wonderful that I -told Marguerite, expecting that it would very much astonish her. But -she did not seem to think much about it. Her mind was full of something -else. - -"Ah, my Damoiselle," she said, "they did well that built this church, -and put no roof on it. For He is not here; He is gone up. And He will -come again. Thank God! He will come again. 'This same Jesus'--the -same that wore the crown of thorns, and endured the agony of the -cross,--the same that said 'Weep not' to the bereaved mother, and 'Go in -peace' to the woman that was a sinner--the very same, Himself, and none -other. I marvel if it will be just here! I would like to live and die -here, if it were." - -"O Margot!" said I, laughing, "thou dost not fancy it will be while thou -art alive?" - -"Only the good God knows that," she said, still looking up intently -through the roof of the church,--or where the roof should have -been--into the sky. "But I would it might. If I could find it in my -heart to envy any mortal creature, it would be them who shall look up, -maybe with eyes dimmed by tears, and see Him coming!" - -"I cannot comprehend thee, Margot," said I. "I think it would be just -dreadful. I can hardly imagine a greater shock." - -"Suppose, at this moment, my Damoiselle were to look behind her, and see -Monseigneur Count Guy standing there, smiling on her,--would she think -it a dreadful shock?" - -"Margot! How can the two be compared?" - -"Only love can compare them," answered the old woman softly. - -"Marguerite! Dost thou--canst thou--love our Lord as much as I love -Guy? It is not possible!" - -"A thousand times more, my Damoiselle. Your Nobility, I know, loves -Monseigneur very dearly; yet you have other interests apart from him. I -have no interest apart from my Lord. All my griefs, all my joys, I take -to Him; and until He has laid His hand on them and blessed them, I can -neither endure the one nor enjoy the other." - -I wonder if Lady Judith feels like that! I should like to ask her, if I -could take the liberty. - -Marguerite was looking up again into the sky. - -"Only think what it will be!" she said. "To look up from the cradle of -your dying child, with the anguish of helplessness pressing tight upon -your heart--and see Him! To look up from your own sick bed, faint and -weary beyond measure--and see Him! From the bitter sense of sin and -failure--from cruel words and unkind looks--from loneliness and -desolation--from hunger and cold and homelessness--to look up, and see -Him! There will be some suffering all these things when He comes. Oh, -why are His chariot-wheels so long in coming? Does not He long for it -even more than we?" - -I was silent. She looked--this old villein woman--almost like one -inspired. - -"He knows!" she added softly. "He knows. He can wait. Then we can. -Surely I come quickly. Amen. Come, Lord Jesus!"' - -Amaury called me, and I left her there. - -He wanted to creep through the columns, and wished me to try first, as I -am slimmer than he. I managed it pretty well,--so now all my sins are -remitted, and I do feel so good and nice! Lady Isabel could hardly do -it; and Amaury, who has been growing fatter of late, could not get -through at all. He was much disappointed, and very cross in -consequence. Damoiselle Melisende would not try. She said, laughing, -that she was quite sure she could not push through, and she must get her -sins forgiven some other way. But she mischievously ran and fetched old -Marguerite, and putting on a grave face, proposed to her to try the -feat. Now I am quite certain Marguerite could never have done it; for -though she is not stout, she is a large-built woman. But she looked at -the place for a moment, and then said to Melisende-- - -"If the Damoiselle pleases, what will follow?" - -"Oh, thou wilt have all thy sins forgiven," said she. - -"I thank the Damoiselle," answered Marguerite, and turned quietly away. -"Then it would be to no good, for my sins are forgiven." - -"What a strange old woman!" exclaimed Lady Isabel. - -"Oh, Marguerite is very queer," said I. "She amuses me exceedingly." - -"Is she quite right in her head, do you think?" demanded the Princess, -eyeing Margot with rather a doubtful expression. - -I laughed, and Amaury said, "Oh yes, as bright as a new besant. She is -only comical." - -Then we went into the Church of Saint John, where a piece of marble is -kept on which our Lord wrote when the heathen Jews desired to know His -judgment on a wicked woman. Marguerite seemed puzzled with this. She -said she had heard Father Eudes read the story, and the holy Evangel -said that our Lord wrote on the ground. How did the writing get on that -marble? - -"Oh," said I, "the marble must have been down below, and it pleased the -good God that it should receive the impress." - -"The good God can do all things," assented Margot. "But--well, I am an -ignorant woman." - -Coming down, on the slope of Olivet, the place is shown where our Lady -appeared to Monseigneur Saint Thomas, who refused to believe her -assumption, and gave him her girdle as a token of it. This girdle is -kept in an abbey in England, and is famous for easing pain. - -That same afternoon, at the spice in the Queen's presence-chamber, were -Messire de Montluc and his sons. And we fell in talk--I remember not -how--upon certain opinions of the schoolmen. Messire Renaud would have -it that nothing is, but all things only seem to be. - -"Nay, truly, Messire," said I, laughing; "I am sure I am." - -"Pardon me--not at all!" he answered. - -"And that cedar-wood fire is," said Damoiselle Melisende. - -"By no means," replied Messire Renaud. "It exists but in your fancy. -There is no such thing as matter--only mind. My imagination sees a fire -there: your imagination sees a fire:--but there is no fire,--such a -thing does not exist." - -"Put your finger into this fire which does not exist, if you please, -Messire," remarked the Queen, who seemed much amused; "I expect you will -come to a different conclusion within five minutes." - -"I humbly crave your Highness' pardon. My finger is an imagination. It -does not really exist." - -"And the pain of the burn--would that be imagination also?" she -inquired. - -"Undoubtedly, Lady," said he. - -"But what is to prevent your imagining that there is no pain?" pursued -Her Highness. - -"Nothing," he answered. "If I did imagine that, there would be none. -There is no such thing as matter. Mind--Soul--is the only existence, -Lady." - -"What nonsense is the boy talking!" growled the Baron. - -"But, I pray you, Messire Renaud," said I, "if I do not exist, how does -the idea that I do exist get into my head?" - -"How do I have a head for it to get into?" added Guy. - -"Stuff and nonsensical rubbish!" said the Baron. "Under leave of my Lady -Queen,--lad, thou hast lost thy senses. No such thing as matter, -quotha! Why, there is nothing but matter that is in reality. What men -call the soul is simply the brain. Give over thy fanciful stuff!" - -"You are a Realist, Messire?" asked Guy. - -"Call me what name you will, Sir Count," returned the Baron. "I am no -such fool as yon lanky lad of mine. I believe what I see and hear, and -there I begin and end. So does every wise man." - -"Is it not a little odd," inquired Guy, "that everybody should think all -the wise men must believe as he does?" - -"Odd? No!" said the Baron. "Don't you think so yourself, Sir Count?" - -Guy laughed. "But there is one thing I should like to know," said he. -"I have heard much of Realists and Nominalists, but I never before met -one of either. I wish to ask each of you, Messires,--In your system, -what becomes of the soul after death?" - -"Nay, if there be no soul, what can become of it?" put in Damoiselle -Melisende. - -"Pure foy!" cried the Baron. "I concern myself about nothing of that -sort. Holy Church teaches that the soul survives the body, and it were -unseemly to gainsay her teaching. But--ha! what know I?" - -"For me," said Messire Renaud, a little grandiloquently, "I believe that -death is simply the dissolution of that which seems, and leaves only the -pure essence of that which is. The modicum of spirit--of that -essence--which I call my soul, will then be absorbed into the great soul -of the Universe--the Unknowable, the Unknown." - -"We have a name for that, Messire," said Guy reverently. "We call -it--God." - -"Precisely," answered Messire Renaud. "You--we--holy Church--personify -this Unknowable Essence, which is the fountain of all essence. The -parable--for a parable it is--is most beautiful. But It--He--name it as -you will--is none the less the Unknown and the Unknowable." - -"The boy must have a fever, and the delirium is on him," said the Baron. -"Get a leech, lad. Let out a little of that hot blood which mystifies -thy foolish brains." - -There was silence for a minute, and it was broken by the low, quiet -voice of Lady Judith, who sat next to the Lady Queen, with a spindle in -her hand. - -"'And this is life eternal, that they should _know Thee_.'" She added -no more. - -"Beautiful words, truly," responded Messire Renaud. "But you will -permit me to observe, Lady, that they are--like all similar -phrases--symbolical. The soul that has risen the nearest to this -ineffable Essence--that is most free from the shell of that which -seems--may, in a certain typical sense, be said to 'know' this Essence. -Now there never was a soul more free from the seeming than that of Him -whom we call our Lord. Accordingly, He tells us that--employing one of -the loveliest of all types--He 'knew the Father.' It is perfectly -charming, to an enlightened mind, to recognise the force, the beauty, -the hidden meaning, of these exquisite types." - -"Lad, what is the length of thine ears?" growled the Baron. "What -crouched ass crammed all this nonsense into thee? 'Enlightened -mind'--'exquisite types'--'charming symbolism'! I am not at all sure -that I understand thee, thou exquisite gander! But if I do, what thou -meanest, put in plain language, is simply that there is no God. Eh?" - -"Fair Father, under your good leave, I would choose other words. -God--what we call God--is the Unknowable Essence. Therefore, -undoubtedly there is God, and in a symbolic sense, He is the Creator of -all things, this Essence being the source out of which all other -essences are evolved. Therefore, parabolically speaking"---- - -"I'll lay my stick about thy back, thou parabolical mud-puddle!" cried -the Baron. "Let me be served up for Saladin's supper if I understand a -word of thy foolery! Art thou a true son of holy Church or not? That -is what I want to know." - -"Undoubtedly, fair Sir!" said Messire Renaud. "God forbid that I should -be a heretic! Our holy Mother the Church has never banned the -Nominalists." - -"Then it is high time she did!" retorted the Baron. "I reckon she -thinks they will do nobody much harm, because no mortal being can -understand them. But where, in the name of all the Seven Wonders of the -World, thou gattest such moonshine sticking in thy brains, shoot me if I -know. It was not from my Lady, thy fair mother; and I am sure it was -not from me." - -Messire Renaud made no answer beyond a laugh, and the Lady Queen quickly -introduced a different subject. I fancy she saw that the Baron was -losing his temper. But when Messire Renaud was about to take leave, -Lady Judith arose, as quietly as she does everything, and glided to his -side. - -"Fair Sir," she said gently, "I pray you, pardon one word from an old -woman. You know years should teach wisdom." - -"Trust me, Lady, to listen with all respect," said he courteously. - -"Fair Sir," she said, "when you stand face to face with death, you will -find _It_ does not satisfy your need. You will want _Him_. You are not -a thing, but a person. How can the thing produced be greater than that -which produces it?" - -"Your pardon, fair Lady and holy Mother!" interposed Messire Renaud -quickly. "I do not object to designate the Unknowable Essence as Him. -Far from it! I do but say, as the highest minds have said,--We cannot -know. It maybe Him, It, Them:--we cannot know. We can but bow in -illimitable adoration, and strive to perfect, to purify and enlighten, -our minds, so that they shall grow nearer and nearer to that ineffable -Possibility." - -A very sad look passed over Lady Judith's face. - -"My son," she said, "'if the light that is in thee be darkness, how -great is that darkness!' These are not my words, but His that died for -thee." - -And without another word, she glided back to her seat. - -"Margot," said I, when she came to undress me, "is my body or my soul -me?" - -"To fall and bruise yourself, Damoiselle, would tell you the one," said -she; "and to receive some news that grieved you bitterly would show you -the other." - -"Messire Renaud de Montluc says that only my soul is me; and that my -body does not exist at all,--it only seems to be." - -"Does he say the same of his own body?" - -"Oh yes; of all." - -"Wait till he has fleshed his maiden sword," said Margot. "If he come -into my Damoiselle's hands for surgery[#] with a broken leg and a -sword-cut on the shoulder, let her ask him, when she has dressed them, -whether his body be himself or not." - - -[#] All ladies were taught surgery, and practised it, at this date. - - -"Oh, he says that pain is only imagination," said I. "If he chose to -imagine that he had no pain, it would stop." - -"Very good," said Marguerite. "Then let him set his broken leg with his -beautiful imagination. If he can cure his pain by imagining he has none, -what must he be if he do not?" - -"Well, I know what I should think him. But his father, the Baron de -Montluc, will have it just the opposite--that there is no soul, nor -anything but what we can see and hear." - -"Ah! they will both find out their mistakes when they come to die," said -Margot. "Poor blind things! The good God grant that they may find them -out a little sooner." - -I asked Guy if he did not think the Baron's notion a very dangerous one. -But while he said "yes," he added that he thought Messire Renaud's much -more so. - -"It is so much more difficult to disprove," said he. "It may look more -absurd on the surface, but it is more subtle to deal with, and much more -profound." - -"They both look to me very silly," said I. - -"I wish they were no worse," was Guy's answer. - - -To-day we have been to the Church of the Nativity, at Bethlehem. This -is a little city, nearly two leagues from Jerusalem, that is, half a -day's ride. The way thither is very fair, by pleasant plains and woods. -The city is long and narrow, and well walled, and enclosed with good -ditches on all sides. Between the city and the church lies the field -Floridus, where of old time a certain maiden was brought to the burning, -being falsely accused. But she, knowing her innocence, prayed to our -Lord, and He by miracle caused the lighted faggots to turn into red -roses, and the unlighted into white roses; which were the first roses -that were ever in the world. - -The place where our Lord was born is near the choir of the church, down -sixteen steps, made of marble and richly painted; and under the -cloister, down eighteen steps, is the charnel-house of the holy -Innocents. The tomb of Saint Jerome is before the holy place. Here are -kept a marble table, on which our Lady ate with the three Kings that -came from the East to worship our Lord; and the cistern into which the -star fell that guided them. The church, as is meet, is dedicated to our -Lady. - -Marguerite wanted to know if I were sure that the table was marble. -Because, she said, our Lady was a poor woman--only imagine such a -fancy!--but she insisted upon it that she had heard Father Eudes read -something about it. As if the Queen of Heaven, who was, moreover, Queen -of the land, could have been poor! I told Marguerite I was sure she -must be mistaken, for our Lady was a Princess born. - -"That may be, of blood," said she; "but she was poor. Our Lord Himself, -when on earth, was but a villein." - -I was dreadfully shocked. - -"O Marguerite!" I cried. "What horrible sacrilege! Art thou not afraid -of the church falling on thee?" - -"It would not alter that if it did," said she drily. - -"Our Lord a villein!" exclaimed I. "How is such a thing possible? He -was the King of Kings." - -"He is the King of Kings," said Marguerite, so reverently that I was -sure she could mean no ill; "and He was of the royal blood of -Monseigneur Saint David. That is the Evangel of the nobles. But He was -by station a villein, and wrought as a carpenter, and had no house and -no wealth. That is the Evangel of the villeins. And the villeins need -their Evangel, Damoiselle; for they have nothing else." - -I could not tell what to answer. It is rather puzzling. I suppose it -is true that our Lord was reputed the son of a carpenter; and he must -have wrought as such,--Monseigneur Saint Joseph, I mean,--for the Lady -de Montbeillard, who is fond of picking up relics, has a splinter of -wood from a cabinet that he made. But I always thought that it was to -teach religious persons[#] a lesson of humility and voluntary poverty. -It could not be that He was _poor_! - - -[#] By this term a Romanist does not mean what a Protestant does. The -only "religious persons," in the eyes of the former, are priests or -monks. - - -Then our Lady,--I have seen a scrap of her tunic, and it was as fine -stuff as it could be; and I have heard, though I never saw it, that her -wedding-ring is set with gems. I said this to Marguerite. How could -our Lady be poor? - -"All that may be," she replied, with quiet perverseness. "But I know, -for all that, Father Eudes read that our Lord was born in a cratch, or -laid in one, because there was no room in the inn. And they do not -behave in that way to kings and nobles. That is the lot of the villein. -And He chose the villein's lot; and I, a villein, have been giving Him -thanks for it." - -And nothing that I could say would disturb her calm conviction. - -Damoiselle Melisende told me some interesting things as we rode back to -the Holy City. As,--that Jerusalem is very badly supplied with water, -and the villeins collect and drink only rain-water. Of course this does -not affect the nobles, who drink wine. About two leagues from -Jerusalem, towards the north, is a little village called Jericho, where -the walls of the house of Madame Saint Rahab are still standing. She -was a great lady who received into her house certain spies sent by -Monseigneur Saint Joshua, and hid them behind the arras. (Now, there -again!--if that stupid old Marguerite would not have it that Madame -Saint Rahab kept a cabaret. How could a great lady keep a cabaret? I -wish she would give over listening, if it makes her take such fancies.) -Damoiselle Melisende also told me that Adam, our first father, was -buried in the place where our Lord was crucified; and our Lord's blood -fell upon him, and he came to life again, and so did many others. And -Adam wept for his son Abel one hundred years. Moreover, there is a rock -still standing in the place where the wicked Jews had their Temple, -which was in the holiest place of all; and here our Lord was wont to -repose whilst His disciples confessed themselves to Him.[#] - - -[#] All these legends may be found in the Travels of Sir John -Mandeville. - - -Coming home, we passed by the Golden Gate, which is the gate whereby our -Lord entered the Holy City on the ass, and the gate opened to Him of its -own accord. Damoiselle Melisende bade me observe three marks in the -stone where the ass had set his feet. The marks I certainly saw, but I -could not have told that they were the print of an ass's hoofs. I -suppose I was not worthy to behold them quite distinctly. - - -Guy called me to him this evening. - -"Little Lynette," he said, "I have something to tell thee." - -"Let me spare thee the pains, Guy," answered I mischievously. "Dost -thou think I have no eyes? I saw it the first night we came." - -"Saw what?" asked Guy, with an astonished look. - -"That thy beautiful lady had appeared," I replied. "Thou art going to -wed with Lady Sybil." - -"What fairy whispered it to thee, little witch?" said Guy, laughing. -"Thou art right, Lynette. The King hath bestowed on me the regency of -the kingdom, and the hand of his fair sister. To-morrow, in presence of -the nobles, I am to be solemnly appointed Regent: and a month hence, in -the Church of the Holy Sepulchre, I wed with the Lady Sybil." - -"If thou art happy, Guy, I am very glad," said I; and I said it -honestly. - -"Happy? I should think so!" cried he. "To be Regent of the land of all -lands! And she, Lynette--she is a gem and a treasure." - -"I am sure of that, Guy," said I. - -"And now, my news is not finished, little sister," said he. "The King -has given Amaury a wife." - -"Oh, poor thing!--who is it?" said I. - -Guy laughed till his eyes were full of tears. - -"Poor thing!--who?" said he. "Amaury or his bride?" - -"Oh, the bride, of course," said I. "Amaury won't care a straw for her, -and she will be worried out of her life if she does not dress to please -him." - -"Let us hope that she will, then," answered Guy, still laughing. "It is -the Damoiselle Eschine d'Ibellin, daughter of Messire de Rames. Thou -dost not know her." - -"Dost thou?--what is she like?" - -"Oh, most women are like one another," said Guy--(what a falsehood!). -"Except my fair Lady, and thee, little Lynette, and the Lady Clemence, -thy fair mother,--a woman is a woman, and that is all." - -"Oh, indeed!" said I, rather indignantly. "A man is a man, I suppose, -and that is all! Guy, I am astonished at thee. If Amaury had said such -a thing, I should not have wondered." - -"Men are different, of course," answered Guy. "But a woman's business is -to look pretty and be attractive. Everybody understands that. Nobody -expects a woman to be over wise or clever." - -"Thou hadst better be quiet, Guy, if thou dost not want thine ears -boxed," said I. "If that is not a speech enough to vex any woman, I -never heard one. You men are the most aggravating creatures. You seem -to look upon us as a kind of pretty animal, to be kept for a pet and -plaything; and if you are not too obtuse yourselves to find out that -your plaything occasionally shows signs of a soul within it, you cry -out, 'Look here! This toy of mine is actually exhibiting scintillations -of something which really looks almost like human intellect!' Let me -tell you, Sir Count, we have as much humanity, and sense, and -individuality, as yourselves; and rather more independence. Pretty -phrases, and courtly reverences, and professions of servitude, may sound -very well in your ears; and of those you give us plenty. Does it never -occur to you that we should thank you a great deal more for a little -genuine respect and consideration? We are _not_ toys; we are not pet -animals; we are not pretty pictures. We are human creatures with human -feelings like yourselves. We can put up with fewer compliments to our -complexions, if you please, and a little more realisation of our -separate consciences and intellects." - -"'Ha, Lusignan!'" cried Guy, looking half ashamed and half amused. -"'Sainte Marguerite for Poitou!' Upon my word, Lynette, I _have_ had a -lecture. I shall not forget it in a hurry." - -"Yes," said I, "and thou feelest very much as if Lady Isabel's pet -monkey had opened its mouth, and uttered some wise apothegms upon the -rights of apes. Not that thou hast an atom more respect for the rights -of apes in general, but that thou art a little astonished and amused -with that one ape in particular." - -Guy went off laughing: and I returned to my embroidery. - -Really, I never did see any thing like these men. "Nobody expects a -woman to be wise," forsooth! That is, of course, no man. A woman is -nobody. - -I do not believe that men like a woman to be wise. They seem to take it -as a personal insult--as though every spark of intellect added to our -brains left theirs duller. And a woman's mission in life is, _of -course_, to please the men,--not to make the most of herself as an -individual human soul. That is treason, usurpation, impertinence. - -They will see what they will see. _I_ can live without them. And I -mean to do. - - - - - *CHAPTER VI.* - - _*THE PERVERSITY OF PEOPLE*_*.* - - - "'Do one good'! Is it good, if I don't want it done? - Now do let me grumble and groan: - It is all very well other folks should have fun; - But why can't they let me alone?" - - -Damoiselle Melisende and I have been busy all morning in laying out -dried herbs under the superintendence of Lady Judith. The herbs of this -land are not like those of Poitou. There was cassia,--of which one -variety,[#] Lady Judith says, is taken as medicine, to clear the system -and purify the blood,--and garlic, which they consider an antidote to -poison,--and the wild gourd,[#] which is medicine for the liver,--and -hyssop, spikenard, wormwood (a cure for vertigo), and many others. Two -curious fruits they have here which I never heard of in Poitou; the one -is a dark, fleshy stone-fruit, very nice indeed, which they call plums -or damascenes;[#] they grow chiefly at Damascus. The other grows on -trees around the Dead Sea, and is the apple of Sodom, very lovely to the -eye, but as soon as you bite it, you find nothing but a mouthful of -ashes. I was so amused with this fruit that I brought some home and -showed them to Marguerite. - - -[#] Senna. - -[#] Colocynth. - -[#] Introduced into Europe by the Crusaders. - - -"Ah, the world is full of those!" she said, when she had tried one, and -found out what sort of thing it was. - -"Thou art quite mistaken, Margot," said I. "They are found but in this -country, and only in one particular spot." - -"Those that can be seen, very likely," said she. "But the unseen fruit, -my Damoiselle, grows all over the world, and men and women are running -after it all their lives." - -Then I saw what she meant. - -They have no apples here at all; but citrons and quinces, which are not -unlike apples. The golden citron[#] is a beautiful fruit, juicy and -pleasant; and Lady Judith says some people reckon it to be the golden -apples of the Hesperides, which were guarded by dragons, and likewise -the "apples of gold," of which Monseigneur King Solomon speaks in Holy -Writ. There are almonds, and dates, and cucumbers, and large, luscious -figs, and grapes, and melons, and mulberries, and several kinds of nuts, -and olives, and pomegranates. Quinces are here thought to make children -clever. They make no hay in this country. - - -[#] Oranges. - - -As for their stuffs, there are new and beautiful ones. Here they weave -byssus,[#] and a very fine transparent stuff called muslin. Crape comes -from Cyprus, and damask from Damascus, whence it is named. But the -fairest of all their stuffs is the baudekyn, of which we have none in -Europe,--especially the golden baudekyn, which is like golden samite. I -have bought two lovely pieces for Alix, the one gold-colour, the other -blue. - - -[#] Cotton. - - -Some very curious customs they have here, which are not common in -Europe. Instead of carrying lanterns when one walks or rides at night, -they hang out lanterns in the streets, so that all are lighted at once. -It seems to me rather a good idea. - -Guy has been telling us some strange things about the Saracens. Of -course I knew before that they worship idols,[#] and deal in the black -art; but it seems that Saladin, when he marches, makes known his -approach by a dreadful machine produced by means of magic, which roars -louder than a lion,[#] and strikes terror into every Christian ear that -is so unhappy as to be within hearing. This is, of course, by the -machinations of the Devil, since it is impossible that any true Catholic -could be frightened of a Saracen otherwise. - - -[#] All mediaeval Christians thought this. - -[#] The first drum on record. - - -We are all very busy preparing for the weddings. There are to be three, -on three successive days. On the Saturday, Amaury is to be married to -Damoiselle Eschine. (Poor thing!--how I pity her! I would not marry -Amaury to be Empress.) On the Sunday, Guy weds with Lady Sybil. And on -Monday, Lady Isabel with Messire Homfroy de Tours. - -I think Lady Sybil grows sweeter and sweeter. I love her,--Oh, so much! -She asked me if Guy had told me the news. I said he had. - -"And dost thou like it, Lynette?" she asked shyly. - -"Very much indeed," said I,--"if you love him, Lady." - -"Love him!" she said. And she covered her face with her hands. "O -Lynette, if thou knewest how well! He is my first love. I was wedded -to my Lord of Montferrat when both of us were little children; we never -chose each other. I hope I did my best to make him a good and dutiful -wife; I know I tried to do so. But I never knew what love meant, as -concerned him. Never, till _he_ came hither." - -Well, I am sure Guy loves her. But--shall I own to having been the -least bit disappointed with what he said the other day about women? - -I should not have cared if Amaury had said it. I know he despises -women--I have noticed that brainless men always do--and I should not -have expected any thing better. But I did not look for it from Guy. -Several times in my life, dearly as I love him, Guy has rather -disappointed me. - -Why do people disappoint one in that way? Is it that one sets up too -high a standard, and they fall short of it? I think I will ask Lady -Judith what she thinks. She has lived long enough to know. - - -I found an opportunity for a chat with Lady Judith the very next day. -We were busy broidering Lady Sybil's wedding-dress, the super-tunic of -which is to be white baudekyn, diapered in gold, and broidered with deep -red roses. She wears white, on account of being a widow. Lady Isabel -will be in gold-coloured baudekyn, and my new sister Eschine in rose -damask. - -I have said nothing about Eschine, though she is here. It was because I -had not any thing to say. Her eyes, hair, and complexion are of no -colour in particular; she is not beautiful--nor ugly: she is not -agreeable--nor disagreeable. She talks very little. I feel absolutely -indifferent to her. I should think she would just do for Amaury. - -Well!--we were broidering the tunic, Lady Judith doing the gold, and I -the red; and Damoiselle Melisende had been with us, working the green -leaves, but the Lady Queen sent for her, and she went away. So Lady -Judith and I were left alone. - -"Holy Mother," said I, "give me leave to ask you a question." - -"Surely, my child," said she; "any one thou wilt." - -"Then, holy Mother,--do people ever disappoint you? I mean, when you -fancy you know a man, does he never surprise you by some action which -you think unworthy of him, and which you would not have expected from -him?" - -Lady Judith's first answer was an amused smile. - -"Who has been disappointing thee, Helena?" - -"Oh, nobody in particular," said I hastily; for how could I accuse Guy? -_Loyaute d'amour_ forbid! "But I mean in general." - -"Generals are made of particulars, Helena. But I have not answered thy -question. Yes, certainly I have known such a feeling." - -"And, if it please you, holy Mother, what is the reason of it?" said I. -"Does one set up one's standard of right, truth, and beauty, too high?" - -"That is not possible, my child. I should rather think thou hast set up -the man too high." - -"Oh!" said I deprecatingly. - -"Hast thou ever heard a saying, Helena, that 'a man sees only that which -he brings eyes to see'? There is much truth in it. No man can -understand a character which is higher or broader than his own. Admire -it he may; enter into it, he cannot. Human character is a very -complicated thing." - -"Then one may be too low to see a man's character?" - -"True; and one may be too high. A single eye will never understand a -double one.--Or they may be too far asunder. A miser and a spendthrift -are both in the wrong, but neither of them can feel with the other." - -"But where the temperaments are alike--?" said I; for I always think Guy -and I were cast in the same mould. - -"They never are quite alike," she replied. "As in a shield borne by two -brothers, there is always a difference." - -"Pray you, holy Mother, do you think my brother Guy and me alike?" - -"Alike, yet very different," she said, and smiled. "Cast from one -mould,--yet he on the one side of it, and thou on the other." - -"What do you think is the difference, holy Mother? May I know?" - -"Wouldst thou like to know, Helena?" she said, and smiled again. - -"Oh, I think I can bear to hear my faults," said I. "My pride is not of -that sort." - -"No," she said; "but thou art very proud, little one." - -"Certainly," said I; "I am noble." - -Lady Judith looked suddenly up at me, with a kind of tender look in her -grey eyes, which are so like, and yet so unlike, Lady Sybil's eyes. - -"Little maid, tell me one thing; is thine heart at rest?" - -"I have never been at rest, holy Mother. I do not know how to get it." - -"No, dear heart; thy shoulder is not under the yoke. Listen to the -words of the Master--thy Lord and mine. 'Take My yoke upon you, and -learn of Me; for I am meek and lowly in heart: and ye shall find rest -unto your souls.' Little maiden, wilt thou not come and learn of Him? -He is the only one in Heaven or earth who will never disappoint thee." - -Rather bitter tears were filling my eyes. - -"I don't know how!" I said. - -"No, dear heart; He knows _how_," said Lady Judith. "Only tell Him thou -art willing to learn of Him--if thou art willing, Helena." - -"I have had some thoughts of going into the cloister," said I. "But--I -could not leave Guy." - -"Dear child, canst thou not learn the lessons of God, without going into -the cloister?" - -"I thought not," said I. "One cannot serve the good God, and remain in -the world,--can one?" - -"Ah, what is the world?" said Lady Judith. "Walls will not shut it out. -Its root is in thine own heart, little one." - -"But--your pardon, holy Mother!--you yourself have chosen the cloister." - -"Nay, my child. I do not say I might not have done so. But, in fact, -it was chosen for me. This veil has been upon my head, Helena, since I -was five years old." - -"Yet you would not deny, holy Mother, that a nun is better than a -wife?"[#] - - -[#] I trust that I shall not be misunderstood, or supposed to express -any approbation of conventual life. At the date of this story, an -unmarried woman who was not a nun was a phenomenon never seen, and no -woman who preferred single life had any choice but to be a nun. In these -early times, also, nuns had more liberty, and monasticism, as well as -religion in general, was free from some corruptions introduced in later -years. The original nunneries were simply houses where single women -could live together in comfort and safety, and were always seminaries of -learning and charitable institutions. Most of them were very different -places at the date of the dissolution. - - -"Better? I am not so sure. Happier,--yes, I think so." - -"Most people would say just the opposite, would they not?" said I, -laughing. - -"Most men, and some women," she answered, with a smile. "But -Monseigneur Saint Paul thought a woman happier who abode without -marriage." - -"That is what I should like best: but how can I, without being a nun? -Perhaps, if I were an eremitess, like your Nobility, I might still get -leave from my superiors to live with Guy." - -"It is always Guy with thee," remarked Lady Judith, smiling. "Does Guy -never disappoint thee, my child?" - -It was on my lips to say, "Oh no!"--but I felt my cheeks grow hot, and I -did not quite like to tell a downright lie. I am sure Lady Judith saw -it, but she kindly took no notice. However, at this point, Damoiselle -Melisende came back to her leaves, and we began to talk of something -else. - -I asked Marguerite, at night, if people disappointed her. - -"Did my Damoiselle expect never to be disappointed?" she answered, -turning the question on myself at once. (Old people do. They seem to -think one always means one's self, however careful one may be.) "Then I -am afraid she will be disappointed." - -"But why?" said I. "Why don't people do right, as one expects them to -do?" - -"Does one always know what is right? As to why,--there are the world, -the flesh, and the Devil, against it; and if it were not for the grace -of the good God, any one of them would be more than enough." - -The world, the flesh, and the Devil! The world,--that is other people; -and they do provoke one, and make one do wrong, terribly, sometimes. -But the flesh,--why, that is me. I don't prevent myself doing right. -Marguerite must be mistaken. - -Then, what is grace? One hears a great deal about it; but I never -properly understood what it was. It certainly is no gift that one can -see and handle. I suppose it must be something which the good God puts -into our minds; but what is it? I will ask Lady Judith and Marguerite. -Being old, they seem to know things; and Marguerite has a great deal of -sense for a villein. Then, having been my nurse, and always dwelt with -nobles, she is not quite like a common villein; though of course the -blood must remain the same. - - -I wonder what it is about Lady Isabel which I do not like. I have been -puzzling over it, and I am no nearer. It feels to me as if there were -something slippery about her. She is very gracious and affable, but I -should never think of calling her sweet--at least, not sweet like her -sister. She seems just the opposite of Lady Judith, who never stops to -think whether it is her place to do any thing, but just does it because -it wants doing. Lady Isabel, on the contrary, seems to me to do only -what _she_ wants doing. In some inexplicable manner, she slides out of -every thing which she does not fancy; and yet she so manages it that one -never sees she is doing it at the time. I never can fathom people of -that sort. But I do not like them. - -As for darling Lady Sybil, I love her better and better every day. I do -not wonder at Guy. - -Of Guy himself I see very little. He is Regent of the kingdom, and too -busy to attend to any thing. - - -"Marguerite," I said, "what is grace?" - -"Does my Damoiselle mean the grace of the good God?" - -I nodded. - -"I think it is help," she answered. - -"But what sort of help?" - -"The sort we need at the minute." - -"But I do not quite understand," said I. "We get grace when we receive -the good Lord; but we do not get help. Help for what?" - -"If my Damoiselle does not feel that she needs help, perhaps that is the -reason why she does not get it." - -"Ah, but we do get it in the holy mass. Can we receive our Lord, and -not receive grace?" - -"Do we always, and all, receive our Lord?" - -"Margot! Is not that heresy?" - -"Ha! I do not know. If it be truth, it can hardly be." - -"But does not holy Church teach, that whenever we eat the holy bread, -the presence of our Lord comes down into our hearts?"[#] - - -[#] Holy Church had gone no further than this in 1183. Bare -transubstantiation was not adopted by authority till about thirty years -later. - - -"I suppose He will come, if we want Him," said Marguerite thoughtfully. -"But scarcely, I should think, if we ate that bread with our hearts set -on something else, and not caring whether He came or not." - -I was rather afraid to pursue the question with Margot, for I keep -feeling afraid, every now and then, when she says things of that sort, -whether she has not received some strange, heretical notion from that -man in sackcloth, who preached at the Cross, at Lusignan. I cannot help -fancying that he must be one of those heretics who lately crept into -England, and King Henry the father had them whipped and turned out of -doors, forbidding any man to receive them or give them aid. It was a -very bitter winter, and they soon perished of hunger and cold, as I -suppose such caitiffs ought. Yet some of them were women; and I could -not but feel pity for the poor innocent babes that one or two had in -their arms. And the people who saw them said they never spoke a bitter -word, but as soon as they understood their penalty, and the punishment -that would follow harbouring them, they begged no more, but wandered up -and down the snowy streets in company, singing--only fancy, singing! -And first one and then another dropped and died, and the rest heaped -snow over them with their hands, which was the only burial they could -give; and then they went on, singing,--always singing. I asked -Damoiselle Elisinde de Ferrers,--it was she who told me,--what they -sang. She said they sang always the holy Psalter, or else the Nativity -Song of the angels,--"Glory to God in the highest,--on earth peace -towards men of good-will."[#] And at last they were all dead under the -snow but one,--one poor old man, who survived last. And he went on -alone, singing. He tottered out of the town,--I think it was Lincoln, -but I am not sure,--and as far as men's ears could follow, they caught -his thin, quavering voice, still singing,--"Glory to God in the -highest!" And the next morning, they found him laid in a ditch, not -singing,--dead. But on his face was such a smile as a saint might have -worn at his martyrdom, and his eyes gazing straight up into heaven, as -if the angels themselves had come down to help him to finish his -song.[#] - - -[#] Vulgate version. - -[#] This is the first persecution on record in England of professing -Christians, by professing Christians. - - -Oh, I cannot understand! If this is heresy and wickedness, wherein lies -the difference from truth and holiness? - -I must ask Lady Judith. - - -Oh dear, why _will_ people?--I do think it is too bad. I never thought -of such a thing. If it had been Amaury, now,--But that Guy, of all -people in all this world-- - -Come, I had better tell my story straight. - -I was coming down the long gallery after dinner, to the bower of the -Lady Queen, where I meant to go on with my embroidery, and I thought I -might perhaps get a quiet talk with Lady Judith. All at once I felt -myself pulled back by one of my sleeves, and I guessed directly who had -caught me. - -"Why, Guyon! I have not seen thee for an age!" - -"And I want to see thee for a small age," answered he, laughing. "How -many weddings are there to be next week, Lynette?" - -"Why, three," said I. "Thou wist as well as I." - -"What wouldst thou say to four?" - -"Wish them good fortune, so I am not the bride." - -"Ah, but suppose thou wert?" - -"Cry my eyes out, I think." - -Hitherto Guy had spoken as if he were jesting. Now he changed his tone. - -"Seriously, Elaine, I am thinking of it. Thou knowest thou camest -hither for that object." - -"_I_ came hither for that!" cried I in hot indignation. - -"Thou wert sent hither, then," answered Guy, half laughing at my tone. -"Do not be so hot, little one. Monseigneur expects it, I can assure -thee." - -"Art thou going to wed me against my will? O Guy! I never thought it -of thee!" exclaimed I pitifully. - -For that was the bitterest drop--that Guy should be willing to part with -me. - -"No, no, my darling Lynette!" said Guy, taking my hands in his. "Thou -shalt not be wed against thy will, I do assure thee. If thou dost not -like the knight I had chosen, I will never force him upon thee. But it -would be an excellent match,--and of course I should be glad to see thee -comfortably settled. Thou mightest guess that." - -Might I! That is just what I never should have guessed. Do men ever -understand women? - -"'Settled,' Guy!" I said. "What dost thou mean by 'settled'? What is -there about me that is unsettled?" - -"Now, that is one of thy queer notions," answered Guy. "Of course, no -woman is considered settled till she marries." - -"I should think it was just the most unsettling thing in the world," -said I. - -"Lynette, thou wert born in the wrong age!" said Guy. "I do not know in -what age thou wert born, but certainly not this." - -"And thou wouldst be glad to lose me, Guy!" - -"Nay, not glad to lose thee, little one"--I think Guy saw that had hurt -me--"but glad for thine own sake. Why, Lynette, crying? For what, dear -foolish child?" - -I could hardly have told him. Only the world had gone dark and dreary. -I know he never meant to be unkind. Oh no! I suppose people don't, -generally. They do not find out that they have hurt you, unless you -scream. Nor perhaps then, if they are making a noise themselves. - -"My dear little sister," said Guy again,--and very lovingly he said -it,--"why are all these tears? No man shall marry thee without thy -leave. I am surprised. I thought women were always ready to be -married." - -Ah, that was it. He did not understand! - -"And thou art not even curious to hear whom it should have been?" - -"What would that matter?" said I, trying to crush back a few more -hundreds of tears which would have liked to come. "But tell me if thou -wilt." - -"Messire Tristan de Montluc," he said. - -It flashed on me all at once that Messire Tristan had tried to take the -bridle of my horse,[#] when we came from the Church of the Nativity. I -might have guessed what was coming. - - -[#] Then a tacit declaration of love to a lady. - - -"Does that make any difference?" asked Guy, smiling. - -"No," said I; "none." - -"And the poor fellow is to break his heart?" - -"I dare say it will piece again," said I. - -Guy laughed, and patted me on the shoulder. - -"Come, dry all those tears; there is nothing to cry about. Farewell!" - -And away he went, whistling a troubadour song. - -Nothing to cry about! Yes, that was all he knew. - -I went to my own chamber, sent Bertrade out of it, and finished my cry. -Then I washed my face, and when I thought all traces were gone, I went -down to my embroidery. - -Lady Judith was alone in the bower. She looked up with her usual kind -smile as I took the seat opposite. But the smile gave way in an instant -to a graver look. Ah! she saw all was not right. - -I was silent, and went on working. But in a minute, without any -warning, Lady Judith was softly singing. The words struck me. - - "'Art thou weary, art thou languid, - Art thou sore distressed? - 'Come to Me,' saith One, 'and, coming, - Be at rest.' - - "'Hath He marks to lead me to Him, - If He be my Guide?' - 'In His feet and hands are wound-prints, - And His side.' - - "'Is there diadem, as monarch, - That His brow adorns?' - 'Yea, a crown, in very surety, - But of thorns.' - - "If I find Him, if I follow, - What His guerdon here?' - 'Many a sorrow, many a labour, - Many a tear.' - - "'If I still hold closely to Him, - What hath He at last?' - 'Sorrow vanquished, labour ended, - Jordan past.' - - "'If I ask Him to receive me, - Will He say me nay?' - 'Not till earth, and not till heaven, - Pass away.'" - - -"Oh! Your pardon, holy Mother, for interrupting you," said Damoiselle -Melisende, coming in some haste; "but the Lady Queen sent me to ask when -the Lady Sybil's tunic will be finished." - -Her leaves are finished, but not my roses, nor Lady Judith's gold -diapering. I felt much obliged to her, for something in the hymn had so -touched me that the tears were very near my eyes again. Lady Judith -answered that she thought it would be done to-morrow; and Melisende ran -off again. - -"Hast thou heard that hymn before, Helena?" said Lady Judith, busy with -the diaper. - -"Never, holy Mother," said I, as well as I could. - -"Did it please thee now?" - -"It brought the tears into my eyes," said I, not sorry for the excuse. - -"They had not far to come, had they, little one?" - -I looked up, and met her soft grey eyes. And--it was very silly of me, -but--I burst into tears once more. - -"It is always best to have a fit of weeping out," said she. "Thou wilt -feel better for it, my child." - -"But I had--had it out--once," sobbed I. - -"Ah, not quite," answered Lady Judith. "There was more to come, little -one." - -"It seems so foolish," I said, wiping my eyes at last. "I do not -exactly know why I was crying." - -"Those tears are often bitter ones," said Lady Judith. "For sometimes -it means that we dare not look and see why." - -I thought that was rather my position. For indeed the bitter ingredient -in my pain at that moment was one which I did not like to put into -words, even to myself. - -It was not that Guy did not love me. Oh no! I knew he did. It was not -even that I did not stand first in his love. I was ready to yield that -place to Lady Sybil. Perhaps I should not have been quite so ready had -it been to any one else. But--there was the sting--he did not love me as -I loved him. He could do without me. - -And I could have no comfort from sympathy. Because, in the first place, -the only person whose sympathy would have been a comfort to me was the -very one who had distressed me; and in the second place, I had a vague -idea underlying my grief that I had no business to feel any; that every -body (if they knew) would tell me I was exceedingly silly--that it was -only what I ought to have expected--and all sorts of uncomfortable -consolations of that kind. Was I a foolish baby, crying for the -moon?--or was I a grand heroine of romance, whose feelings were so -exquisitely delicate and sensitive that the common clay of which other -people were made could not be expected to understand me? I could not -tell. - -Oh, why must we come out of that sweet old world where we walked hand in -hand, and were all in all to each other? Why must we grow up, and drift -asunder, and never be the same to one another any more? - -Was I wicked?--or was I only miserable? - -About the last item at any rate there was no doubt. I sat, thinking sad -thoughts, and trying to see my work through half-dimmed eyes, when Lady -Judith spoke again. - -"Helena," she said, "grief has two voices; and many only hear the upper -and louder one. I shall be sorry to see thee miss that lower, stiller -voice, which is by far the more important of the two." - -"What do you mean, holy Mother?" I asked. - -"Dear heart," she said, "the louder voice, which all must hear, chants -in a minor key, 'This world is not your rest.' It is a sad, sad song, -more especially to those who have heard little of it before. But many -miss the soft, sweet music of the undertone, which is,--'Come unto Me, -and I will give you rest.' Yet it is always there--if we will only -listen." - -"But a thing which is done cannot be undone," said I. - -"No," she answered. "It cannot. But can it not be compensated? If -thou lose a necklace of gilt copper, and one give thee a gold carcanet -instead, hast thou really sustained any loss?" - -"Yes!" I answered, almost astonished at my own boldness. "If the copper -carcanet were a love-gift from the dead, what gold could make up to me -for that?" - -"Ah, my child!" she replied, with a quick change in her tone. It was -almost as if she had said,--"I did not understand thee to mean -_that_!"--"For those losses of the heart there is but one remedy. But -there is one." - -"Costly and far-fetched, methinks!" said I, sighing. - -"Costly, ay, in truth," she replied; "but far-fetched? No. It is close -to thee, if thou wilt but stretch forth thine hand and grasp it." - -"What, holy Mother?" - -Her voice sank to a low and very reverent tone. - -"'Nevertheless, not as I will, but as Thou wilt.'" - -"I cannot!" I sobbed. - -"No, thou couldst not," she said quietly, "until thou lovest the will of -Him that died for thee, better than thou lovest the will of Helene de -Lusignan." - -"O holy Mother!" I cried. "I could not set up my will against the good -God!" - -"Couldst thou not?" was all she said. - -"Have I done that?" I faltered. - -"Ask thine own conscience," replied Lady Judith. "Dear child, He loved -not His will when He came down from Heaven, to do the will of God His -Father. That will was to save His Church. Little Helena, was it to -save thee?" - -"How can I know, holy Mother?" - -"It is worth knowing," she said. - -"Yes, it is worth knowing," said I, "but how can we know?" - -"What wouldst thou give to know it? Not that it can be bought: but what -is it worth in thine eyes?" - -I thought, and thought, but I could not tell wherewith to measure any -thing so intangible. - -"Wouldst thou give up having thine own will for one year?" she asked. - -"I know not what might happen in it," said I, with a rather frightened -feeling. - -Why, I might marry, or be ill, or die. Or Guy might give over loving me -altogether, in that year. Oh, I could not, could not will that! And a -year is such a long, long time. No, I could not--for such a time as -that--let myself slip into nothing, as it were. - -"Helena," she said, "suppose, at this moment, God were to send an angel -down to thee from Heaven. Suppose he brought to thee a message from God -Himself, that if thou wouldst be content to leave all things to His -ordering for one year, and to have no will at all in the matter, He -would see that nothing was done which should really harm thee in the -least. What wouldst thou say?" - -"Oh, then I should dare to leave it!" said I. - -"My child, if thou art of His redeemed, He has said it--not for one -short year, but for all thy life. _If_, Helena!" - -"Ah,--if!" I said with a sigh. - -Lady Judith wrought at her gold diapering, and I at my roses, and we -were both silent for a season. Then the Lady Queen and the Lady Isabel -came in, and there was no further opportunity for quiet conversation. - - - - - *CHAPTER VII.* - - _*A LITTLE CLOUD OUT OF THE SEA*_*.* - - - "Coming events cast their shadows before." - --CAMPBELL. - - -It is Monday night, and I am,--Oh, so tired! - -The three grand weddings are over. Very beautiful sights they were; and -very pleasant the feasts and the dances; but all is done now, and if -Messire Renaud feels any doubt to-night about his body being himself, I -have none about mine. - -Eschine made a capital bride, in the sense in which a man would use the -words. That is, she looked very nice, and she stood like a statue. I -do not believe she had an idea in her head beyond these: that she was -going to be married, that it was a very delightful thing, and that she -must look well and behave becomingly. - -Is that the sort of woman that men like? It is the sort that some men -seem to think all women are. - -But Amaury! If ever I did see a creature more absurd than he, I do not -know who it was. He fidgetted over Eschine's bridal dress precisely as -if he had been her milliner. At the very last minute, the garland had -to be altered because it did not suit him. - -Most charming of all the weddings was Guy's. Dear Lady Sybil was so -beautiful, and behaved so perfectly, as I should judge of a bride's -behaviour,--a little soft moisture dimming her dark eyes, and a little -gentle tremulousness in her sweet lips. Her dress was simply -enchanting,--soft and white. - -Perhaps Lady Isabel made the most splendid-looking bride of the three; -for her dress was gorgeous, and while Lady Sybil's style of beauty is by -far the more artistic and poetical, Lady Isabel's is certainly the more -showy. - -So far as I could judge, the three brides regarded their bridegrooms -with very different eyes. To Eschine, he was an accident of the rite; a -portion of the ceremony which it would spoil the show to leave out. To -Lady Isabel, he was a new horse, just mounted, interesting to try, and a -pleasant triumph to subdue. But to Lady Sybil, he was the sun and -centre of all, and every thing deserved attention just in proportion as -it concerned him. - -I almost hope that Eschine does not love Amaury, for I feel sure she -will be very unhappy if she do. As to Messire Homfroy de Tours, I do not -think Lady Isabel will find him a pleasant charger. He is any thing but -spirited, and seems to me to have a little of the mule about him--a -creature who would be given at times to taking the bit in his teeth, and -absolutely refusing to go a yard further. - -And now it is all over,--the pageants, and the feasts, and the dancing. -And I cannot tell why I am sad. - -How is it, or why is it, that after one has enjoyed any thing very much, -one always does feel sad? - -I think, except to the bride and bridegroom, a wedding is a very -sorrowful thing. I suppose Guy would say that was one of my queer -notions. But it looks to me so terribly like a funeral. There is a -bustle, and a show; and then you wake up, and miss one out of your life. -It is true, the one can come back still: but does he come back to be -yours any more? I think the instances must be very, very few in which -it is so, and only where both are, to you, very near and dear. - -I think Marguerite saw I looked tired and sad. - -"There have been light hearts to-day," she said; "and there have been -heavy ones. But the light of to-day may be the heavy of to-morrow; and -the sorrow of to-night may turn to joy in the morning." - -"I do feel sorrowful, Margot; but I do not know why." - -"My Damoiselle is weary. And all great joy brings a dull, tired feeling -after it. I suppose it is the infirmity of earth. The angels do not -feel so." - -"I should like to be an angel," said I. "It must be so nice to fly!" - -"And I," said Marguerite; "but not for that reason. I should like to -have no sin, and to see the good God." - -"Oh dear!" said I. "That is just what I should not like. In the sense -of never doing wrong, it might be all very well: but I should not want -never to have any amusement, which I suppose thou meanest: and seeing -the good God would frighten me dreadfully." - -"Does my Damoiselle remember the time when little Jacquot, Bertrade's -brother, set fire to the hay-rick by playing with lighted straws?" - -"Oh yes, very well. Why, what has that to do with it?" - -"Does she recollect how he shrieked and struggled, when Robert and -Pierre took him and carried him into the hall, for Monseigneur himself -to judge him for his naughtiness?" - -"Oh yes, Margot. I really felt sorry for the child, he was so -terrified; and yet it was half ludicrous--Monseigneur did not even have -him whipped." - -"Yet, if I remember rightly, my Damoiselle was standing by Monseigneur's -side at the very time; and she did not look frightened in the least. -Will she allow her servant to ask why?" - -"Why should I, Margot? I had done nothing wrong." - -"And why is my Damoiselle more like Jacquot than herself, when she comes -to think of seeing the good God?" - -"Ah!--thou wouldst like me to say, Because I have done wrong, I -suppose." - -"Yes; but I think there was another reason as well." - -"What was that, Margot?" - -"My Damoiselle is Monseigneur's own child. She knows him. He loves her, -and she knows it." - -"But we are all children of the good God, Margot." - -"Will my Damoiselle pardon me? We are all His creatures: not all His -children. Oh no, no!" - -"O Margot!" said I suddenly, "didst thou note that tall, dark, handsome -knight, who stood on Count Guy's left hand,--Count Raymond of Tripoli?" - -"He in the mantle lined with black sable, and gold-barred scarlet hose?" - -"That is the man I mean." - -"I saw him. Why, if it please my Damoiselle?" - -"Didst thou like him?" - -"My Damoiselle did not like him?" - -Marguerite is very fond of answering one question by another. - -"I did not; and I could not tell why." - -"Nor I. But I could." - -"Then tell me, Margot." - -"My Damoiselle, every man has a mark upon his brow which the good God -and His angels can see. But few men see it, and in some it is not easy -to see. Many foreheads look blank to our eyes. But sooner or later, -one of the two marks is certain to shine forth--either the holy cross of -our Lord, or the badge of the great enemy, the star that fell from -heaven. And what I saw on that man's lofty brow was not the cross of -Christ, but the star of Satan." - -"Margot, thy queer fancies!" said I, laughing. "Now tell me, prithee, on -whose forehead, in this house, thou seest the cross." - -"The Lady Judith," she answered without the least hesitation; "and I -think, the Lady Sybil. Let my Damoiselle pardon me if I cannot name any -other, with certainty. I have weak eyes for such sights. I have hope -of Monseigneur Count Guy." - -"Margot, Margot!" cried I. "Thou uncharitable old creature, only three! -What, not the Lady Queen, nor the Lady Isabel, nor the holy Patriarch! -Oh, fie!" - -"Let my Damoiselle pardon her servant. The Lady Queen,--ah, I have no -right to say. She looks blank, to me. The cross may be there, and I -may be blind. But the Patriarch--no! and the Lady Isabel--the good God -forgive me if I sin, but I believe I see the star on her." - -"And on me?" said I, laughing to hide a curious sensation which I felt, -much akin to mortification. Yet what did old Marguerite's foolish -fancies matter? - -I was surprised to see her worn old eyes suddenly fill with tears. - -"My sweet Damoiselle!" she said. "The good God bring out the holy cross -on the brow that I love so well! But as yet,--if I speak at all, I must -speak truth--I have not seen it there." - -I could not make out why I did not like the Count of Tripoli. He is a -very handsome man,--even my partial eyes must admit, handsomer than Guy. -But there is a strange look in his eyes, as if you only saw the lid of a -coffer, and beneath, inside the coffer, there might be something dark -and dangerous. Guy says he is a splendid fellow; but Guy always was -given to making sudden friendships, and to imagining all his friends to -be angels until he discovered they were men. I very much doubt the -angelic nature of Count Raymond. I do not like him. - -But what a queer fancy this is of old Marguerite's--that Satan puts -marks on some people! Yet I cannot help wishing she had not said that -about me. And I do not think it was very respectful. She might have -said something more civil, whatever she thought. Marguerite always will -speak just as she thinks. That is like a villein. It would never do -for us nobles. - - -Guy has now been Regent of the Holy Land for half a year. Some people -seem to fancy that he is rather too stern. Such a comical idea!--and of -Guy, of all people. I think I know how it is. Guy is very impulsive in -enterprise, and very impetuous in pursuing it. And he sees that during -the King's illness every thing has gone wrong, and fallen into disorder; -and of course it will not do to let things go on so. People must be -governed and kept in their places. Of course they must. Why, if there -were no order kept, the nobles and the villeins would be all mixed up -with each other, and some of the more intelligent and ambitious of the -villeins might even begin to fancy themselves on a par with the nobles. -For there is a sort of intelligence in some of those people, though it -must be of quite a different order from the intellect of the nobles. I -used to think villeins never were ambitious. But I have learned lately -that some of them do entertain some such feeling. It must be a most -dangerous idea to get into a villein's head!--though of course, right -and proper enough for a noble. But I cannot imagine why villeins cannot -be contented with their place. Did not Providence make them -villeins?--and if they have plenty of food, and clothing, and shelter, -and fire, and a good dance now and then on the village green, and an -extra holiday when the Seigneur's daughter is married, or when his son -comes of age,--what can they possibly want more? - -I said so to Marguerite. - -"Ah, that is all the nobles know!" she answered, quietly enough, but -with some fire in the old eyes. "They do not realise that we are men, -just as they are. God sent us into His world, with just as much, body -and soul, as He did them. We have intellects, and hearts, and -consciences, just like them. ('Just like'--only fancy!) I trust the -good God may not have to teach it them through pain." - -"But they ought to be satisfied," said I. "I am perfectly content with -my place in the world. Why are they not contented?" - -"It is easier to be content with velvet than duffle," said Marguerite -more calmly. "It looks better, and feels softer, too. If my Damoiselle -were to try the duffle for a day, perhaps she would complain that it -felt harsh." - -"To me, very likely," said I. "But a villein would not have a fine skin -like mine." - -"The finest skin does not always cover the finest feelings," said -Marguerite in her dry way. - -What a very silly idea! Of course those people cannot have such -feelings as I have. It would be quite absurd to think so. - -I do think, however, that what vexed me most of any thing, was that -Amaury--that silly little boy!--should take it into his head to lecture -Guy on the way he chose to govern. As if he could know anything about -it! Why, he is two whole years younger than Guy. I told him so, -feeling really vexed at his impudence; and what should he say but that I -was seven years younger than he. I know that, but I am a woman; and -women have always more sense than men. At least, I have more sense than -Amaury. I should be an idiot if I had not. - - -I have made a discovery to-day which has astonished me. Lady Judith has -a whole Bible, and Psalter too, of her own, not written in Latin, but in -her own tongue in which she was born,--that is, Greek. And she says -that a great part of the Bible--all the holy Evangels, and the writings -of Messeigneurs the holy Apostles--were originally written in Greek. I -always thought that holy Scripture had been written in Latin. I asked -her if Latin were not the language the holy angels spoke, and our Lord, -when He was upon earth. She answered, that she did not think we knew -what language the holy angels spoke, and she should doubt if it were any -tongue spoken on earth: but that the good God, and Messeigneurs the holy -Apostles, she had no doubt at all, spoke Greek. It sounds very strange. - -Lady Isabel has had a violent quarrel with her lord, and goes about with -set lips and her head erect, as if she were angry with every one. - -I almost think Eschine improves upon acquaintance. Not that I find her -any cleverer than I expected, but I think she is good-natured, and seems -to have no malice in her. If Amaury storms--as he does sometimes--she -just lets the whirlwind blow over her, and never gives him a cross word. -I could not do that. I suppose that is why I admire it in Eschine. - - -A young nun came this morning to visit Lady Judith--one of her own -Order. I could not quite understand their conversation. Sister -Eudoxia--for that is her name--struck me as being the holiest religious -person I have ever seen. She spoke so beautifully, I thought, about the -perfection one could attain to in this life: how one's whole heart and -soul might be so permeated with God, that one might pass through life -without committing any deed of sin, or thinking any evil thought. Not, -of course, that I could ever attain to such perfection But it sounded -very beautiful and holy. - -I was quite surprised to see how constrained, and even cool, Lady Judith -was. It was only yesterday that she assented warmly to old Marguerite's -saying that no one who served God could love any kind of sin. But with -Sister Eudoxia--who spoke so much more charmingly on the same -subject--she sat almost silent, and when she did speak, it seemed to be -rather in dissent than assent. It puzzled me. - -When Sister Eudoxia was gone, Lady Sybil said-- - -"Oh, what happiness, if one could attain to the perfection of living -absolutely without sin!" - -"We shall," answered Lady Judith. "But it will not be in this world." - -"But Sister Eudoxia says it might be." - -"Ah, my poor Sister Eudoxia!" said Lady Judith sadly. "She has taken up -with a heresy nearly as old as Christianity itself, and worse than than -that of Messire Renaud de Montluc, because it has so much more truth in -it. Ay, so much mixture of truth, and so much apparent loveliness, that -it can be no wonder if it almost deceive the very elect. Beware of -being entangled in it, my children." - -"Heresy, holy Mother!" cried Lady Sybil, with a shocked look. "I -thought I had never heard any one ascribe more of the glory of our -salvation to God than she did. For she said that every thing was done -for us by the good Lord, and that even our perfection was wrought by Him -for us." - -"And not by Him in us," said Lady Judith. "The very point of the heresy, -my child. Eudoxia sees no distinction between the righteousness done -for us, which is our ground of justification before God, and the -holiness wrought in us, which is our conformity to His image. The first -was finished on the rood, eleven centuries ago: the second goes on in -the heart of every child of God, here and now. She is one of those who, -without intending it, or even knowing that they do it, do yet sadly fail -to realise the work of the Holy Ghost. - -"But how much she spoke of the blessed Spirit!" objected Lady Sybil. - -"My daughter," said Lady Judith, with a smile, "hast thou not yet found -out the difference between names and things? There are many men who -worship God most devoutly, but it is a God they have made to themselves. -Every man on earth is ready to love and serve God with his whole -heart,--if he may set up God after his own pattern. And what that -really means is, a God as like as possible to himself: who will look -with perfect complacency on the darling sins which he cherishes, and may -then be allowed to condemn with the utmost sternness all evil passions -to which he is not addicted." - -"That sounds _very_ shocking, holy Mother!" said Lady Sybil. - -"We are all liable to the temptation," replied Lady Judith, "and are apt -to slide into it ere we know it." - -We all wrought for a little time in silence, when Lady Sybil said, "What -do you call that heresy, holy Mother, into which you say that Sister -Eudoxia has fallen?" - -"If thou wilt look into the vision of the Apostle, blessed John, called -the Apocalypse," answered Lady Judith, "thou wilt see what Christ our -Lord calls it. 'This thou hast, that thou rejectest the teaching of the -Nicolaitanes, which I hate."' - -"But I thought," said Lady Sybil, looking rather surprised, "that those -Nicolaitanes, who were heretics in the early Church, held some very -horrible doctrines, and led extremely wicked lives? The holy Patriarch -was speaking of them, not long ago." - -"Ah, my child," said Lady Judith, "men do not leap, but grow, into great -wickedness. Dost thou not see how the doctrine works? First, it is -possible to live and do no sin. Secondly, _I_ can live and do no sin. -Thirdly, I do live and not sin. Lastly, when this point is -reached,--Whatever my spiritual instinct does not condemn--I being thus -perfect--cannot be sin. Therefore, I may do what I please. If I lie, -murder, steal--which would be dreadful sins in another--they are no sins -in me, because of my perfection. And is this following Christ?" - -"Assuredly not! But does Sister Eudoxia really imagine that?" - -"Oh no!" responded Lady Judith. "She has not reached that point. -Comparatively few get so far on the road as that. But that is whither -the road is leading them." - -"Then what is the root of the heresy?" - -"That which I believe lies at the root of every heresy--rejecting God's -Word, that we may keep our own traditions. The stem may perhaps consist -of two things; the want of sufficient lowliness, and the want of a right -knowledge of sin. It is not enough realised that a man's conscience, -like all else in him, has been injured by the fall, but conscience is -looked on as a heavenly judge, still in its original purity. This, as -thou mayest guess, leads to depreciation of the Word of God, and -exaltation of the conscience over the Word. And also, it is not -properly seen that while a man lives, the flesh shall live with him, and -the flesh and the renewed spirit must be in perpetual warfare to the -end." - -"But we know----" said Lady Sybil,--and there she paused. - -"'We know'!" repeated Lady Judith, with a smile. "Ah, my child, we -think we know a great deal. And we are like children playing on the -seashore, who fancy that they know all that is in the sea, because they -have scooped up a little sea-water in their hands. There are heights -and depths in God's Word and in God's purposes, which you and I have -never reached yet,--which perhaps we shall never reach. 'For as the -heaven is high above the earth, so are His ways higher than our ways, -and His thoughts than our thoughts.'" - -I was curious to know what Marguerite would say: she always agrees so -strangely with Lady Judith, even when they have not talked the matter -over at all. So I said, when I went up to change my dress-- - -"Margot, dost thou commit sin?" - -"My Damoiselle thinks me so perfect, then?" said she, with a rather -comical look. - -I could not help laughing. - -"Well, not quite, when thou opposest my will," said I; "but dost thou -know, there are some people who say that they live without sin." - -"That may be, when to contradict the holy Evangels is a mark of -perfection," said Marguerite drily. - -"Well, what hast thou heard about that in thy listening, Margot?" said -I, laughing. - -"The first thing I heard perplexed me," said she. "It was of Monseigneur -Saint John, who said that he that is born of God doth not commit sin: -and it troubled me sorely for a time, since I knew I did sin, and feared -lest I was therefore not born of God. But one day, Father Eudes read -again, from the very same writing, that 'If any man sin, we have an -Advocate with the Father,' and likewise that if we say we have no sin, -we are liars. So then I thought, Well! how is this? Monseigneur the -holy Apostle would not contradict himself. But still I could not see -how to reconcile them, though I thought and thought, till my brain felt -nearly cracked. And all at once, Father Eudes read--thanks be to the -good God!--something from Monseigneur Saint Paul, which put it all -right." - -"What was that?" - -"Ah! I could not get it by heart. It was too difficult, and very long. -But it was something like this: that in a Christian man there are two -hearts, of which the one, which is from God, does not sin at all; and -the other, which is the evil heart born in us, is always committing -sin." - -"But, Margot, which of thy two hearts is thyself?" - -"Ha! I cannot answer such questions. The good God will know." - -"But art thou sure those are not wicked people?" - -"Certainly, no. Monseigneur Saint Paul said 'I' and 'me' all through." - -"Oh, but, Margot!--he could not have meant himself." - -"If he had not meant what he said, I should think he would have -mentioned it," said Marguerite in her dry, quaint style. - -"Well, a holy Apostle is different, of course," said I. "But it looks -very odd to me, that anybody living now should fancy he never does -wrong." - -"Ah, the poor soul!" said Marguerite. "The good God knows better, if he -do not." - - - - - *CHAPTER VIII.* - - _*AS GOOD AS MOST PEOPLE*_*.* - - -The best way to see Divine light is to put out your own candle. - - -This morning the Lady Princess of Antioch visited the Lady Queen, and -remained for the day, taking her departure only just before the gates -were closed, for she preferred to camp out at night. She is quite -young, and is a niece of the Lady Queen. After she was gone, we were -talking about her in the bower, and from her we came to speak of the -late Princess, her lord's mother. - -"Pray do not talk of her!" said Lady Isabel. "She made herself a -bye-word by her shameless behaviour." - -"Only thoughtless," remonstrated Lady Sybil gently. "I never thought -she deserved what was said of her." - -"Oh no!--you never think anybody does," sneered her sister. "I could -not have associated with such a woman. She must have known what was -said of her. I wonder that she was brazen enough to show herself in -public at all." - -"But think, Isabel! I do not believe she did know. You know she was -not at all clever." - -"She was half-witted, or not much better," was the answer. "Oh yes, I -know that. But she must have known." - -"I do not think she did!" said Lady Sybil earnestly. - -"Then she ought to have known!" sharply replied Lady Isabel. "I wonder -they did not shut her up. She was a pest to society." - -"O Isabel!" deprecated her sister. "She was very good-natured." - -"Sybil, I never saw any one like you! You would have found a good word -for Judas Iscariot." - -"Hardly," said Lady Sybil, just as gently as before. "But perhaps I -might have helped finding evil ones." - -"There are pearl-gatherers and dirt-gatherers," quietly remarked Lady -Judith, who had hitherto listened in silence. "The latter have by far -the larger cargo, but the handful of the former outweighs it in value." - -"What do you mean, holy Mother?" inquired Lady Isabel, turning quickly -to her--rather too sharply, I thought, to be altogether respectful. - -"Only 'let her that thinketh she standeth, take heed lest she fall,'" -said Lady Judith, with a quiet smile. - -"I?" said Lady Isabel, with a world of meaning in her tone. - -"My child," was the reply, "they that undertake to censure the cleanness -of their neighbours' robes, should be very careful to avoid any spot on -the purity of their own. Dost thou not remember our Lord's saying about -the mote and the beam?" - -"Well," said Lady Isabel, bringing her scissors together with a good -deal of snap, "I think that those who associate with such people as the -Princess Constantia bring a reflection on their own characters. Snow and -soot do not go well together." - -"The soot defiles the snow," responded Lady Judith. "But it does not -affect the sunbeam." - -"I do not understand you," said Lady Isabel bluntly. - -"Those who confide in their own strength and goodness, Isabel, are like -the snow,--very fair, until sullied; but liable to be sullied by the -least speck. But those who take hold of God's strength, which is Christ -our Lord, are the sunbeam, a heavenly emanation which cannot be sullied. -Art thou the snow, or the sunbeam, my child?" - -"Oh dear! I cannot deal with tropes and figures, in that style," -answered she, rising. "And my work is finished; I am going now." - -I fancied she did not look very sorry for it. - - -Great events are happening. The Lord King, finding his malady grows -rather worse than better, has resolved to abdicate, in favour of his -nephew, Lady Sybil's baby son. So to-morrow Beaudouin V. is to be -proclaimed throughout the Holy City, and on the Day of Saint Edmund the -King,[#] he will be crowned in the Church of the Holy Sepulchre. They -say the Lord King was a very wise man before he became a mesel; and he -will still give counsel when needed, the young King being but three -years old. - - -[#] Nov. 20. - - -I do not quite see what difference the abdication will make. Guy must -still remain Regent for several years, and the only change is that he -will govern for his step-son instead of his brother-in-law. And I feel a -little jealous that Lady Sybil should be passed by. She, not her son, -is the next heir of the crown. Why must she be the subject of her own -child, who ought to be hers? I really feel vexed about it; and so does -Guy, I am sure, though he says nothing--at least to me. As to Lady -Sybil herself, she is so meek and gentle, that if a beggar in the street -were put over her head, I believe she would kneel to do her homage -without a cloud on her sweet face. - -However, I felt at liberty to say what I thought to Amaury, though I -seldom do it without being annoyed by his answer. And certainly I was -now. - -"She! She's a woman," said Messire Amaury. "What does a woman know -about governing?" - -"What does a baby know?" said I. - -"Oh, but he will be a man some day," answered Amaury. - -"But Guy will govern in either case," I replied, trying not to be angry -with him. - -He is so silly, and he thinks himself so supremely wise! I do believe, -the more foolish people are, the wiser they think themselves. - -"Ha!" said he. "Saving your presence, Damoiselle Elaine, I am not so -sure that Guy knows much about it." - -"Amaury, thou art an idiot!" cried I, quite unable to bear any longer. - -"I believe thou hast told me that before," he returned with provoking -coolness. - -I dashed away, for I knew I might as well talk to Damoiselle Melisende's -pet weasel. - -I do not like the Count of Tripoli. The more I see of him, the less I -like him. And I do not like his fawning professions of friendship for -Guy. Guy does not see through it a bit. I believe he only means to use -Guy as a ladder by which to climb himself, and as soon as he is at the -top, he will kick the ladder down behind him. - - -Did I not say that Amaury was an idiot? And is it not true? Here is -our sister Eschine the mother of a pretty little baby, and instead of -being thankful that Eschine and the infant are doing well, there goes -Amaury growling and grumbling about the house because his child is a -girl. Nay, he does more, for he snarls at Eschine, as if it were her -fault, poor thing! - -"She knows I wanted a boy!" he said this morning. - -Men are such selfish simpletons! - -To see how coolly Eschine takes it is the strangest thing of all. - -"I was afraid he would be disappointed," she said calmly. "You see, men -don't think much of girls." - -"Men are all donkeys," said I, "and Amaury deserves to be king of the -donkeys." - -Eschine seemed to think that very funny. - -"Come, Elaine, I cannot let thee say that of my lord, and sit silent. -And I think Messire Homfroy de Tours quite as well qualified for the -position." - -"Ah," said I, "but Lady Isabel keeps her curb much tighter than thou. I -really feel almost sorry for him sometimes, when she treats him like a -baby before all the world." - -"She may do that once too often," said Eschine. - -Amaury means to call the baby Heloise--for a reason which would never -have occurred to any one but himself--because we have not had that name -in the family before. And Eschine smilingly accepts it, as I believe -she would Nebuchadnezzar if he ordered her. - - -To-day the little King was crowned in the Church of the Holy Sepulchre, -at noon; and in the evening the Damoiselle Heloise de Lusignan was -baptized into the Fold of Christ. The King was very good: I think he -inherits much of his mother's sweet disposition. I cannot say as much -for my small niece, for she cried with all her heart when the holy -Patriarch took her in his arms; and he said it showed that Satan must -have taken strong possession of her, and was very hard to dislodge. But -no sooner had the holy cross been signed on her, and the holy Patriarch -gave her back into the arms of her nurse, than, by the power of our -Lord, she was quite another creature, and did not utter a single cry. -So wonderful and effectual a thing is the grace of holy baptism! - -"Much effect it took on thee, then," growled Amaury, to whom I said -this; "for thou didst wait until the water touched thy face, and then -didst set up such screams as never were heard from mortal babe before." - -"What dost thou know about it?" said I. - -"Ha! Don't I?" answered he provokingly. - -I have been amused to hear the different ideas of various people, when -they first see the baby. The Lady Queen stroked its little face, and -said pitifully--"Ah, poor little child, thou art come into a -disagreeable world!" Lady Judith took it in her arms, and after rocking -it a little, she said--"What possibilities lie hidden here!" Lady Sybil -said--"Little darling! what a treasure thou art!" Lady Isabel's comment -(for which I shall never forgive her) was--"What an ugly little -spectacle! Are young babies no prettier?" Damoiselle Melisende danced -it up and down, and sang it a lively nursery song. Guy (like a man) -said, with an amused look, "Well! that is a funny little article. -Heloise?--that means 'hidden wisdom,' does it not? Very much hidden -just now, I should think." Amaury (that stupid piece of -goods!)--"Wretched little creature! Do keep it from crying!" And -lastly, old Marguerite came to see her nursling's nursling's nursling. -I wondered what she would say. She took it in her arms, and looked at -it for some time without speaking. And then she said softly-- - -"Little child! He that was once a little Child, bless thee! And may He -give thee what He sees best. That will most likely be something -different from what we see." - -"O Marguerite!" said I. "That may be an early death." - -"That would be the best of all, my Damoiselle.[#] Ah! the eyes of a -noble maiden of seventeen years see not so far as the eyes of a villein -woman of seventy. There are good things in this world--I do not deny -it. But the best thing is surely to be safe above this world,--safe -with the good Lord." - - -[#] It would have been well for Heloise, who bears a spotted reputation -in history. - - -"I do not want to lose my baby, Margot," said Eschine, with a rather sad -smile. - -"Ah no, Dame, _you_ do not," replied Marguerite, answering the smile -with a brighter one. "But if the good Lord should call her, it is best -to let her rise and go to Him." - - -Again we hear something more of those strange rumours, as though the -people were not content under Guy's government. But what does it -signify? They are only villeins. Yet villeins can insult nobles, no -doubt. Sister Eudoxia (who was here again yesterday) says they actually -talk of a petition to the King, to entreat him to displace Guy, and set -some one else in his stead. The thought of their presuming to have an -idea on the question! As if _they_ could understand anything about -government! Discontented under Guy! my Guy! They are nothing better -than rebels. They ought to be put down, and kept down. - -The Lady Queen has received a letter from her kindred at Byzantium, from -which she hears that the young Byzantine Caesar, who is but a child, has -been wedded to a daughter of the Lord King of France. Dame Agnes is her -name, and she is but eight years old. - -I wonder if it is very, very wicked to hate people? Old Marguerite will -have it that it is just as bad as murder, and that the holy Evangel says -so. I am sure she must have listened wrong. For I do hate Count -Raymond of Tripoli. And I can't help it. I must and will hate him. He -has won Guy's ear completely, and Guy sees through his eyes. I cannot -bear him, the fawning, handsome scoundrel--I am sure he is one! They -say, too, that he is not over good to his wife, for I am sorry to say he -has a wife; I pity her, poor creature! - -Lady Judith asked me, when I repeated this, who "they" were. - -"I do not know, holy Mother," said I; "every body, I suppose." - -"I would not put too much faith in 'them,' Helena," she said. "'They' -often say a great deal that is not true." - -"But one must attend to it, holy Mother!" I answered. - -"Why?" replied she. - -"Oh, because it would never do!" - -"What would never do?" - -"To despise the opinion of society." - -"Why?" she gently persisted. - -Really, I found it rather difficult to say why. - -"Methinks, Helena, I have seen thee despise the opinion of society, when -it contradicted thy will. Is it not more reasonable to despise it, when -it contradicts God's will?" - -"Holy Mother, I pray you, tell me--is that the world?" said I. "Because -my nurse, old Marguerite, says, that Monseigneur Saint John bade us -beware of the world, and the flesh, as well as the Devil: and I am not -quite sure what it means, except that the world is other people, and the -flesh is me. But how can I be inimical to my own salvation?" - -"My child," said Lady Judith gently, "when some duty is brought to thy -remembrance, is there nothing within thee which feels as if it rose up, -and said, 'Oh, but I do not want to do that!'--never, Helena?" - -"Oh yes! very often," said I. - -"That is the flesh," said she. "And 'they that are of Christ the flesh -have crucified, with its passions and its lusts.'" - -"Oh dear!" I exclaimed, almost involuntarily. - -"Very unpleasant, is it not?" said Lady Judith, smiling. "Ah, dear -child, the flesh takes long in dying. Crucifixion is a very slow -process; and a very painful process. They that are not willing to -'endure hardness' had better not enlist in the army of Jesus Christ." - -"Ah, that is what I always thought," said I; "religious persons cannot -be very happy. Of course, it would not be right for them; they wait -till the next world. And yet--old Marguerite always seems happy. I do -not quite understand it." - -"Child!" Lady Judith dropped her broidering, and the deep, sweet grey -eyes looked earnestly into mine. "What dost thou know of happiness? -Helena, following Christ is not a hardship; it is a luxury. The -happiness--or rather the mirth--of this world is often incompatible with -it; but it is because the one is so far above the other that it -extinguishes it, as the light of the sun extinguishes the lamp. Yet who -would prefer the lamp before the sunlight? Tell me, Helena, hast thou -any wish to go to Heaven?" - -"Certainly, holy Mother." - -"And what dost thou expect to find there? I should be glad to know." - -I could hardly tell where to begin. - -"Well," I said, after a moment's thought, "I expect to fly, and to enjoy -myself intensely; and never to have another pain, nor shed a tear; and -to see all whom I love, and be always with them, and love them and be -loved by them for ever and ever. And there will be all manner of -delights and pleasures. I cannot think of anything else." - -"And that is thy Heaven?" said Lady Judith, with a smile in which I -thought the chief ingredient was tender compassion, though I could not -see why. "Ah, child, it would be no Heaven at all to me. Verily, 'as a -man thinketh in his heart, so is he.' Pleasure, and ease, and earthly -love--these are thy treasures, Helena. 'For where thy treasure is, -there shall thine heart be.'" - -"But what is the matter with my Heaven?" said I, feeling a little -aggrieved. - -"Why, my child, thou hast left out the central figure. What were a -coronation if there were no king? or a wedding where there were no -bride? Why, what was left would be equivalent to nothing. Ask thine old -nurse, and see if thy Heaven would satisfy her. Ah, 'whom have we in -Heaven but _Thee_? and there is none upon earth that we desire in -comparison of Thee!' Old Marguerite understands that. Dost thou, my -maiden?" - -I shook my head. I felt too mortified to speak. To have a poor, -ignorant villein woman held up to me, as knowing more than I knew, and -being happier than I, really was humiliating. Yet I could not resent it -from one so high as Lady Judith. - -Lady Judith would have said more, I fancy, but Melisende came in, and -she quietly dropped the matter, as she generally does if any third -person enters. But the next morning, as Marguerite was dressing my -hair, I asked her what her notion of Heaven was. - -"Inside with the blessed Lord, and the Devil and all the sins and evil -things left outside," she said. "Ah, it will be rest to be rid of evil; -but it will be glory to be with the Lord." - -"And the pleasures, and the flying, and all the delightful things, -Margot!" said I. - -"Ah, yes, that will be very nice," she admitted. "And to meet those whom -we have lost--that will be the very next best thing to seeing the good -Lord." - -"Hast thou lost many whom thou hast loved, Margot?" - -"Ah, no--very few, compared with some. My mother, and my husband, and -my two children:--that is all. I never knew my father, and I was an -only child. But it may be, the fewer one has to love, the more one -loves them." - -"An only child!" said I. "But Perette calls thee aunt?" - -"Ah, yes, she is my husband's niece,--the same thing." - -I think Marguerite seems to agree with Lady Judith, though of course she -does not express herself so well. - -And I cannot help wondering how they arrange in Heaven. I suppose there -will be thrones nearest the good Lord for the kings and the princes who -will be there: and below that, velvet settles for the nobles; and -beneath again, the crowd of common people. I should think that would be -the arrangement. Because, of course, no one could expect them to mingle -all together. That would be really shocking. - -Yet I cannot altogether make it out. If Messeigneurs the holy Apostles -were originally fishermen, and worked for their living--it is very -queer. I do not understand it. But I suppose the holy angels will take -care to put it right, and have a proper barrier between the Apostles and -the nobles, and the poor villeins, who are admitted of special grace, -through their own good deeds, and the super-abundant merits of the holy -saints. - -In the afternoon, when Guy was in audience of the Lord King and the Lady -Queen, and Lady Isabel and Melisende were riding forth, with Messire -Homfroy and Amaury as their cavaliers, I found Lady Judith and Lady -Sybil busy spinning, and I brought my broidery and sat down with them. -We did not talk much for a while,--only a few words now and then: when -all at once Lady Judith said-- - -"Helena, wilt thou try this needle for thy work?" - -I took the needle, and threaded it, and set to work again: but I found -to my surprise that I could not get on at all. The needle would hardly -go through the silk, and it left an ugly hole when it did. Lady Judith -went on with her spinning for a few minutes, but at length she looked up -and said-- - -"Well, Helena, how dost thou like that needle?" - -"Not at all, holy Mother, if it please you," said I, "for I cannot get -on with it." - -She selected another, and gave it me. - -"Oh, this is beautiful for broidery!" I said; "so fine and sharp." - -"It is the answer to a question thou wert asking me yesterday," said -Lady Judith, "and I gave thee no reply. Canst thou guess what the -question was?" - -I could not, and said so. I did not remember asking anything that had -to do with needles, and I never thought of any hidden meaning. - -"Thy question was, What is the world?--and, what harm does the world do -to us? That needle that I first gave thee has its point blunted. And -that is what the world does to a child of God. It blunts his point." - -"I do not understand," said I. - -"Little Helena," said Lady Judith, "before a point can be blunted, there -must be one to blunt. Thou couldst not sew with a wooden post. So, -before the world can injure thy spiritual life, there must be spiritual -life to injure. There is no poison that will harm a dead man." - -"But, holy Mother, are there two worlds?" said I. "For religious -persons give up the world." - -"My child, thine heart is a citadel which the foe can never enter, -unless there be a traitor within the walls to open the postern gate. -But there is such a traitor, Helena; and he is always on the watch. Be -thou ever on the watch too. Yet another matter stands first:--Who -reigns in thy citadel? Hast thou ever given thine heart to God, -maiden?" - -"Can I give my heart, holy Mother? It seems to me that love is rather -like a plant that grows, than like a treasure that is given." - -"Thou art right: but the planting must be sometime. Hast thou ever -asked God to take thine heart? For as a holy man of old hath said,--'If -Thou leave me to myself, I shall not give it Thee.'" - -I shook my head. It all sounded strange to me. - -"If the usurper is in the citadel, dear child, he will hold the gates -against the rightful King: and, Helena, there are no traitors in His -camp. Thou art not a sword, nor a shield, which can do nothing of -itself; but a human creature with a living will, which can choose either -to open the gates to the King, or to shut them against His trumpeter -when He sends thee summons to surrender. Nay, thou not only canst -choose; thou must: at this moment, at every moment, thou art choosing. -What message hast thou sent back to thy rightful Lord, both by right and -purchase? Is it 'Come Thou, and reign over me;' or is it, 'Go back to -Thy place, for I will have none of Thee'?" - -I would willingly not have answered: but I felt it would be to fail in -respect to Lady Judith's age and position. I stammered out something -about hoping that I should make my salvation some time. - -"My child, didst thou ever do any thing at any time but _now_?" said -Lady Judith. - -I suppose that is true; for it is always now, when we actually come to -do it. - -"But, holy Mother, there is so much to give up if one becomes -religious!" said I. - -"What is there to give up, that thou couldst take with thee into -Heaven?" - -"But there will be things in Heaven to compensate," said I. - -"And is there nothing in Christ to compensate?" she replied, with a -momentary flash in the grey eyes. "What is Heaven but God? 'The City -had no need of the sun, for the glory of God did lighten her:' 'and -temple I saw none in her, for the Lord God the Almighty is Temple to -her, and the Lamb.'" - -Lady Sybil seemed interested; but I must confess that I thought the -conversation had assumed a very disagreeable tone; and I wondered how it -was that both Lady Judith and my old Marguerite spoke to me as if they -thought I did not serve God. It is very strange, when I hear the holy -mass sung every morning, and I have only just offered another neuvaine -at the Holy Sepulchre. However, Easter will soon be here, and I mean to -be very attentive to my devotions throughout the Holy Week, and see if -that will satisfy Lady Judith. I don't want her to think ill of me. I -like her too well for that, though I do wish she would not talk as if -she fancied I did not serve God. I am sure I am quite as good as most -people, and that is saying a great deal. - -No, it can never be wrong to hate people. It can't be, and it shan't! -And I just wish I could roast that Count of Tripoli before the fire in -the Palace kitchen till he was done to a cinder. I am white-hot angry; -and like Jonah the Prophet, I do well to be angry. The mean, fawning, -sneaking, interloping rascal! I knew what he meant by his professions -of love and friendship! Guy's eyes were shut, but not mine. The -wicked, cruel, abominable scoundrel!--to climb up with Guy's help to -within an inch of the top where he sat, and then to leap the inch and -thrust him out of his seat! I cannot find words ugly enough for him. I -hate, hate, hate him! - -To have supplanted my Guy! After worming himself into the confidence of -the Lord King, through Guy's friendship--ay, there is the sting!--to -have carried to the King all the complaints that he heard against Guy, -until he, poor helpless Seigneur! (I don't feel nearly so vexed with -him) really was induced to believe Guy harsh and incapable, and to take -out of his hands the government of the kingdom. And then he put in that -serpent, that false Judas, that courtly hypocrite--Oh dear! I cannot -find words to describe such wickedness--and he is Regent of the Holy -Land, and Guy must kneel to him. - -I could cut him in slices, and enjoy doing it! - -I am angry with Melisende, who can find nothing to say but--"Ah, the -fortune of Courts--one down to-day, another up to-morrow." And I am -almost angry with Marguerite, who says softly--"Hush, then, my -Damoiselle! Is it not the good God?" - -No, it is not. It is the Devil who sends sorrow upon us, and makes us -hate people, and makes people be hateful. I am sure the good God never -made Count Raymond do such wicked things. - -Instead of casting Adam and Eva out of Paradise,--Oh why, why did the -good God not cast out the Devil? - -"Is my Damoiselle so much wiser than the Lord?" quietly asks Marguerite. - -I cannot understand it. The old cry comes up to me again,--Oh, if I -could know! Why cannot I understand? - -And then Lady Judith lays her soft hand on my head, and says words which -I know come from the holy Evangel,--"'What I do, thou knowest not now.'" -Ay, I know not I must not know. I can only stretch forth appealing -hands into the darkness, and feel nothing. Not like her and Marguerite. -They too stretch forth helpless hands into the darkness, but they find -God. - -It must be a very different thing. Why cannot I do the same? Is He not -willing that I should find Him too?--or am I not worthy? - -I suppose it must be my fault. It seems as if things were always one's -own fault. But I do not think they are any better on that account; -especially when you cannot make out where your fault lies. - -Guy behaves like a saint. He does not see any fault in Count Raymond: I -believe he won't. Lady Sybil, poor darling! looks very grieved; but not -one word of complaint can I get her to utter. - -As to Amaury, when I have quite finished slicing up the Count, if he -does not mind, I shall begin with him. What does he say but--"Well, a -great deal of it is Guy's own fault. Why wasn't he more careful? -Surely, if he has any sense, he might expect to be envied and -supplanted, when he had climbed to such a height." - -"If he has any sense!" Pretty well for Messire Amaury! - - - - - *CHAPTER IX.* - - _*ELAINE FINDS MORE THAN SHE EXPECTED*_*.* - - - "And when I know not what Thou dost, - I'll wait the light above." - --DODDRIDGE. - - -Both Guy and Lady Sybil are in a state of the highest ecstasy, and say -that they are abundantly recompensed for all their past disappointments. -And this is because they are disappointed just like Amaury, but they -bear it in as different a style as possible. I think, if I were they, I -should consider I had more right to be troubled of the two, for little -Heloise is a strong child enough, and is growing almost pretty: while -dear Lady Sybil's baby girl is a little delicate thing, that the wind -might blow away. Of course I shall love her far better, just because -she is Guy's and Sybil's; and she crept into the warmest corner of my -heart when she showed me her eyes--not Lady Sybil's gentle grey, but -those lovely flashing dark eyes of Guy's; the most beautiful eyes, I -think, that were ever seen. - -"Marguerite, is not she charming?" I cried. - -"Ah, the little children always are," said the old woman. - -(I don't agree with her--little children can be great teases.) But -Marguerite had more to say. - -"My Damoiselle sees they are yet innocent of actual sin; therefore they -are among the best things in God's world. I may be wrong, but I think -the good God must have been the loveliest babe ever seen. How I should -have liked to be there!--if the holy Mother would have allowed me to -hold Him in my arms!" - -"Ah, I suppose only the holiest saints would be allowed to touch Him," -said I. - -"I am not so sure, if my Damoiselle will pardon me. She was no saint, -surely, that crept into the Pharisee's house to break the -casting-bottle[#] on His feet; yet the hardest word she had from Him was -'Go in peace.' Ah, I thank the good God that His bidding is not, 'Come -unto Me, all ye that are holy.' There are few of us would come, if it -were! But 'Come unto Me, all ye that are weary'--that takes us all in. -For we are all weary some time. The lot of a woman is a weary lot, at -the best." - - -[#] Used to sprinkle perfumes. - - -"Well, it may be, among the villeins," said I. - -"My Damoiselle, I never saw more bitter tears than those of the old Lady -de Chatelherault--mother of the Lady de Lusignan--when her fair-haired -boy was brought in to her in the bower, with the green weeds in his long -bright hair, and the gold broidery of his velvet tunic tarnished by the -thick stagnant water. Early that morning he had been dancing by her, -with the love-light in his beautiful blue eyes; and now, when the dusk -fell, they laid him down at her feet, drowned and dead, with the light -gone out of the blue eyes for ever. Ah, I have seen no little sorrow -amongst men and women in my seventy years!--but I never saw a woman -look, more than she did, as if she had lost the light of life. The -villeins have a hard lot, as the good God knows; but all the sorrow of -life is not for the villeins--no, no!" - -How oddly she puts things! I should never have thought of supposing -that the villeins had any sorrow. A certain dull kind of coarse grief, -or tired feeling, perhaps, they may have at times, like animals: but -sorrow surely is a higher and finer thing, and is reserved for the -nobles. As to old Marguerite herself, I never do quite think of her as -a villein. She has dwelt with nobles all her life, so to speak, and is -not of exactly the same common sort of stuff that they are. - - -Yesterday afternoon Lady Sybil and I were alone in the bower, and she -had the baby in her arms. The little creature is to be made a Christian -on Sunday. I asked her what name it was to have. I expected her to say -either Marie, which is the Lady Queen's name, or Eustacie, the name of -Guy's mother. But she said neither. She answered, "Agnes." And she -spoke in that hushed, reverent voice, in which one instinctively utters -the names of the beloved dead. I could not think whose it could be. -The name has never been in our House, to my knowledge; and I was not -aware of it in Lady Sybil's line. - -"Dost thou not know whose name it is, Helena?" asked Lady Sybil. I -fancy she answered my look. - -"No," said I. - -"My dear lord has been very good to me," she said. "He made not the -least objection. It was my mother's name, Helena." - -"Oh!" said I, enlightened. "Lady Sybil, do tell me, can you remember -the Lady Queen your mother? How old were you when she died?" - -She did not answer me for an instant. When I looked up, I saw tears -dropping slowly on the infant's robes. - -"When she--died!" There was a moment's pause. "Ay, there are more -graves than men dig in the churchyard! When she--_died_,--Helena, I was -six years old." - -"Then you can remember her?" I said eagerly. "Oh, I wish I could -remember mine." - -"Ay, memory may be intense bliss," she answered; "or it may be terrible -torture. I can remember a fair face bent down over mine, soft, brooding -arms folded round me, loving kisses from gentle lips. And then----O -Helena, did my lord tell thee she was dead? It was kind of him; for he -knows."[#] - - -[#] I trust it will not be imagined from this that I think lightly of -"white lies." Romanists, as a rule, are very lenient towards them. - - -Lady Sybil was sobbing. - -"Then she is not dead?" I said, in a low voice. - -"I do not know!" she replied. "No one knows. She is dead to us. Oh, -why, why does holy Church permit such terrible things?--What am I -saying? May the good Lord pardon me if I speak against Him!--But I -cannot understand why it must be. They had been wedded nearly ten years, -Helena,--I mean my parents,--when it was discovered that they were -within the prohibited degrees. Why cannot dispensations be given when -such things occur? They knew nothing of it. Why must they be parted, -and she be driven into loneliness and obscurity, and I---- Well, it was -done. A decree of holy Church parted them, and she went back to her -people. We have never heard another word about her. But those who saw -her depart from Jerusalem said she seemed like one whose very heart was -broken." - -"And she never came back?" I said pityingly. - -"Is it much wonder?" answered Lady Sybil, in a low voice, rocking the -child gently in her arms. "It would have been much, I think, for the -crowned and anointed Queen of Jerusalem to steal into her capital as -Damoiselle de Courtenay. But it would have been far more for the wife -and mother to come suing to her supplanter for a sight of her own -children. No, I cannot wonder that she never, never came back." - -I was silent for a little while, then I said-- - -"Was the Lord King as grieved as she? I cannot understand, if so, why -they should not have obtained a dispensation, and have been married over -again." - -Lady Sybil shook her head, and I saw another tear drop on the baby's -robe. - -"No, Helena," she said, hardly above a whisper: "I do not think he was. -He had the opportunity of allying himself with the Caesars. And there -are men to whom a woman is a woman, and one woman is just as good as -another, or very nearly so. Do men selling a horse stop to consider -whether it will be as happy with the new master as the old? They do not -care. And, very often, they cannot understand." - -Ay, Amaury is one of that sort. - -"And you think--if she be alive--that she will never come?" I asked. - -"I hope she might. But I think she will not. Ah, how I have hoped it! -Helena, hast thou wondered how it is that nothing short of absolute -impossibility will suffer me to depute to another the daily distribution -of the dole at the postern gate to those poor women that come for alms? -Canst thou not guess that amongst all the faces I look but for one--for -the one that might creep in there unrecognised to look on me, and that -must never, never go away with a soreness at her heart, saying, 'She was -not there!' Every loaf that I give to a stranger, I say, 'Pray for the -soul of Agnes of Anjou!' And then, if some day she should creep in -among the rest, and I should not know her--ah! but I think I should, if -it were only by the mother-hunger in the eyes--but if she should, and -hear that, and yet not speak, she will say in her heart, 'Sybil loves me -yet.' And if she could only creep one step further,--'_God_ loves me -yet!' For He does, Helena. Maybe He has comforted her long ago: but if -she should not have found it out, and be still stretching forth numb -hands in the darkness--and if I could say it to her! Now thou knowest -why I call the babe by her name. I know not where she is, nor indeed if -she is on earth. But He knows. And He may let her hear it. If she -come to know that I have called my child by her name, she may not feel -quite so lost and lonely. I have no other way to say to her,--'I have -not forgotten thee; nor has God. I love thee; I would fain help thee. -He loves thee and is ready to save thee.' Who can tell?--she _may_ -hear." - -"Oh dear, this is a bad world!" said I. "Why are people so hard on each -other? We are all fellow-sinners, I suppose." - -"Ah, Helena!" said Lady Sybil, with a sorrowful smile. "Hast thou not -found, dear, that the greater sinner a man is himself, very generally, -the harder he will be on other sinners--especially when their sins are -of a different type from his own. The holier a man is, the more he -hates sin, and yet the more tenderly will he deal with the sinner. For -as sin means going away from God, so holiness must mean coming near God. -And God is more merciful than men to all who come to Him for mercy." - -Lady Judith came in while the last words were being spoken. - -"I never can quite tell," said I, "what sin is. Why should some things -be sin, and other things not be sin?" - -"Go on, Helena," said Lady Judith, turning round with a smile. "Why -should so many things be wrong, which I like, and so many things be -right, which I do not like?" - -"Well, holy Mother, it is something like that," said I, laughing. "Will -you please to tell me why?" - -"Because, my child, thou hast inherited a sinful nature." - -"But I do not like sin--as sin," said I. - -"Then temptation has no power over thee. Is it so? Art thou never -'drawn away of thine own lust, and enticed'?" - -"Well, I am not perfect," said I. "I suppose nobody expects to be." - -"Yet without absolute perfection, Helena, thou canst never enter -Heaven." - -"O holy Mother!" cried I. - -"Where art thou about to get it?" said she. - -"I am sure I do not know!" I replied blankly. - -"Thou shouldst know, my child," she responded gently. "Think about it." - -I cannot guess what she means. I am sure I may think about that for a -year, and be no nearer when I have done. - - -I have had a great pleasure to-day, in the shape of a letter from -Monseigneur our father, addressed to Guy, but meant for us all three. -He wrote about six months after we set out; and I should hope he has -before now received my letter, which I sent off on the first opportunity -after our arrival in the Holy City. Every body seems to be well, and -Alix has a baby boy, whom she means to call after Monseigneur--Geoffrey. -There is no other special news. Level, he says, misses us sorely, and -lies at my door with his nose between his paws, as if he were -considering what it could all mean. I wonder whether he thinks he comes -to any satisfactory solution. - -The Lord King, I hear, has been more indisposed for some days past. The -Lady Queen is very attentive to him. Lady Isabel and her lord have gone -through another tremendous quarrel,--about what I do not know. - -Early yesterday morning our sister Eschine's second baby was announced, -and in the afternoon the holy Patriarch baptized it by Guy's name. -Amaury was in ecstasies with his boy; but alas! in the evening the poor -little thing fell into convulsions, and barely lived to see the dawn of -another day. Amaury passed from the climax of triumph to the depths of -despair. He growled and snarled at every body, and snapped at Eschine -in particular, as though he thought she had let her child die on purpose -to vex him. That she could be in as much distress as himself, did not -seem to occur to him. If anything could have provoked me more than -Amaury's unreasonableness, it would have been the calm patience with -which Eschine took it. There he stalked about, grumbling and growling. - -"Why did you all let the child die?" he wanted to know--as if we could -have helped it. "There is not one of you has any sense!"--as if he had! -"Alix's boy manages to live. She knows how to treat him. Women are all -idiots!" (Alix, apparently, not being a woman.) - -Poor Eschine lay still, a few tears now and then making their way down -her white cheeks, and meekly begging her lord and master's pardon for -what she had not done. When he was gone, she said--I think to -anticipate what she saw on the tip of my tongue-- - -"Thou knowest, Elaine dear, he is not angry with me. Men do set such -store by a son. It is only natural he should be very much distressed." - -She will persist in making excuses for him. - -"Distressed?--well!" said I. "But he does not need to be so silly and -angry. Natural!--well, yes,--I think it is natural to Amaury to be an -idiot. I always did think so." - -"O Lynette! don't, dear!" pleaded Eschine. - -I am beginning to think I have been rather unjust to Eschine when I said -there was nothing in her; but it has taken a long while to come out. -And it seems to come rather in the form of doing and bearing, than of -thinking and saying. - -But that Amaury is a most profound donkey no mortal man can doubt,--or -at any rate, no mortal woman. - - -I was awfully startled this morning when Marguerite undrew my curtains, -and told me that our Lord King Beaudouin had been commanded to God. It -seems now that for some time past he has been more ill than any one -knew, except the Lady Queen his stepmother. What that wicked Count of -Tripoli may have known, of course, I cannot say. But I am sure he has -had a hand in the late King's will. The crown is left to the little -King, Beaudouin V., and our sweet Sybil is disinherited. What that -really means, I suppose, is that the Count is jealous of Guy's influence -over his Lady, and imagines that he can sway the child better than the -mother. - -There are to be various changes in consequence of the Lord King's death. -The Lady Queen returns to her own family at Byzantium. I do hope Lady -Judith will not go with her; but I am very much afraid she may. Guy -talks about retiring to his city of Ascalon, but though I am sure Lady -Sybil will submit to his will, I can see she does not want to leave her -boy, though I do not believe she distrusts that wicked Tripoli as I do. - -I asked Marguerite if she did not feel very angry. - -"No," she said quietly. "Is my Damoiselle very angry?" - -"Indeed I am," said I. - -"Does my Damoiselle know what are the good Lord's purposes for -Monseigneur Count Guy? It is more than old Marguerite does." - -"Of course not: but I see what has happened." - -"And not what will happen? Ah, that is not seeing much." - -"But what can happen, to put things right again, Margot?" - -"Ha! Do I know, I? No better than Monseigneur Saint Jacob, when his -son, Monseigneur Saint Joseph, sent for his little brother, and refused -to send the meal until he came. That is so beautiful a history!--and so -many times repeated in this world. The poor old father!--he thought all -these things were against him. He did not know what the good God was -making ready for him. He did not know! And the good God will never be -hurried. It is we that are in a hurry, poor children of time,--we want -every thing to happen to-day. But He, who has eternity to work in, can -afford to let things take their time. My Damoiselle does not know what -old Helweh said to me yesterday." - -"No. Who is Helweh?" said I. - -"She is an Arab woman who serves in the kitchen." - -"A Paynim? O Marguerite! What can a Paynim say worth hearing? Or is -she a Christian?" - -"If to be baptized is to be a Christian, as people always say, then -Helweh is a Christian. But if to be a Christian is really to know and -follow the Lord Christ--and it seems to me as if the Evangel always -meant that--then I do not know. I am afraid Helweh does not understand -much about that." - -"Oh, if she has been christened, she must be a Christian," said I. -"Well, what did she say?" - -"She said--'All things come to him who knows how to wait.' It is a -Saracen proverb." - -"Well, I do not believe it." - -"Ah, let my Damoiselle pardon me, but it is true." - -"Well!" said I, half laughing, "then I suppose I do not know how to -wait." - -"I do not think my Damoiselle does," answered Marguerite quietly. - -"Wilt thou teach me, Margot?" - -"Ha! It takes the good God to teach that." - -"I should not think it wanted much teaching." - -"Let my Damoiselle bear with her servant. The good God has been -teaching it to me for seventy years, and I dare not make so bold as to -say I have learned it yet." - -"Why, Margot, thou art as quiet, and calm, and patient as a stone." - -"Ah! not _here_," she said, laying her hand upon her bosom. "Perhaps -here,--and here,"--touching her eyes and lips. "But down there,--no!" - -"But for what, or for whom, art thou waiting, Margot?" I asked, rather -amused. - -"Ha!--it ought to be only whom. But it is too often _what_. We are -like the little children, waiting for the father to come home, but -thinking more of the toys and bonbons he may bring than of himself. And -then there is another thing: before we can learn to wait, we must learn -to trust." - -"To trust what, Margot?" - -"I believe we all trust in something, if my Damoiselle pleases. A great -many trust in themselves; and a great many more trust in -circumstances,--fate, or chance, or luck,--as they call it. Some few -trust in other human creatures; and their waking is often the saddest of -all. But it seems as if the one thing we found it hardest to do was to -trust the good God. He has to drive us away, often, from every other -trust, before we will learn to trust Him. Oh, how we must grieve His -heart, when He has done so much for us, and yet we _will not_ trust -Him!" - -I wonder what she means. I feel as if I should like to know, and could -not tell how to begin. - - -The Lady Queen is gone back to her people. And I am so glad--Lady Judith -is not gone with her. I was sadly afraid she would do. But Melisende -is gone, and Messire Renaud de Montluc, for whom the Lady Queen trusts -to obtain some high position at the Court of the Byzantine Caesar. - -I am not at all sorry that Messire Renaud is gone. He made me feel -uncomfortable whenever I looked at him. I cannot well express my -feeling in words; but he gave me a sensation as if nothing stood on any -thing, and every thing was misty and uncertain. I fancy some people like -that sort of feeling. I detest it. I like figures (though Amaury says -it is a very unladylike taste) because they are so definite and certain. -Two and two make four; and they will make four, do what you please with -them. No twisting and turning will persuade them to be either three or -five. Now I like that--far better than some arts, more interesting in -themselves, such as music, painting, or embroidery, of which people say, -"Yes, it is very fair,--very good,--but of course it might be better." -I like a thing that could not be better. Guy says that is very -short-sighted, and argues a want of ambition in me. I do not quite see -that. If a thing be the best it can possibly be, why should I want it -to be better? - -"Oh, but one wants an aim," says Guy; "one must have a mark to shoot at. -If I were besieging a castle, and knew beforehand that I could not -possibly take it, it would deprive me of all energy and object. There -is nothing so devoid of interest as doing something which leads to -nothing, and is worth nothing when done." - -"Well," I say then, "I think if sieges and wars were done away with, it -would be no bad thing. Just think what misery they cause." - -But such an outcry comes upon me then! Amaury informs me that he is -incomparably astonished at me. Is not war the grandest of all -employments? What on earth could the nobles do, if there were no wars? -Would I have them till the earth like peasants, or read and write like -monks, or sew and dress wounds like women? - -And Guy says, good-naturedly,--"Oh, one of Elaine's curious notions. -She never thinks like other people." - -"But think," I say, "of the suffering which comes from war--the bereft -widows and fatherless children, and human pain and sorrow. Does a woman -weeping over her husband's corpse think war grand, do you suppose?" - -"Stuff!" says Amaury. "Can't she get another?" - -(Would he say, if Eschine were to die,--"Never mind, I can get another"? -Well, I should not much wonder if he would!) - -Once, after a rather keen contest of this sort, I asked old Marguerite -if she liked war. I saw her eyes kindle. - -"Damoiselle," she said, "my husband followed his Seigneur to the war, -and left me ill at home in my cot. He had no power to choose, as my -Damoiselle must know. The night fell, and the Seigneur came home with -banners flying, and along the village street there were bonfires and -rejoicings for a great victory. But my husband did not come. I rose -from my sick-bed, and wrapped myself in a sheepskin, and went out to the -fatal field. Like a candle in the sunlight, the pain of the heart put -out the pain of the body. What I saw that night my Damoiselle will not -ask. It were not meet to rehearse in the ears of a young noble lady. I -do not know how I bore it, only that I did bear--going from one to -another in the moonlight, and turning my lantern on the dead still -faces, ever looking for that face which I feared to find. And at last I -found him, my Piers, the one love of my young life,--where the fight had -been the most terrible, and the dead lay thickest. I knew that he had -acquitted himself right well, for his face was to the foe, and the -broken shaft of his Seigneur's pennon was still grasped tightly in his -hand. Damoiselle, there was no funeral pageant, no table tomb, no -herald's cry for him. Strangers' hands buried him where he lay, as they -might have buried the Seigneur's horse, if need were. And there were no -white weeds and seclusion for me, his young widow, who knelt by my -baby's cradle, too miserable for tears. But may be, in those halls -where all souls are alike before the King of Kings, the Voice from the -Throne said to him, 'Well done!' And the Voice did verily say to me, -'Fear not! Come unto Me, and I will give thee rest.'--Ah, my Damoiselle -knows now what her old nurse thinks of war." - -Oh, why must there be such things? - -"How else could a knight win his spurs?" indignantly demands Amaury. - -But surely, the winning of Amaury's spurs is not the only thing of any -consequence in the world. Does the good God Himself take no account of -widows' tears and orphans' wails, if only the knights win their spurs? -Could not some other way be contrived for the spurs, which would leave -people alive when it was finished? - -"Now, Elaine, don't be such a simpleton!" says Amaury. - -So at last, as nobody else (except Marguerite, who is nobody) seems to -understand me, I ask Lady Judith what she thinks. - -"My child," she says, "'He maketh wars to cease unto the ends of the -earth; He breaketh the bow, and snappeth the spear in sunder, and -burneth the chariot in the fire.' 'The Father of the age to come, the -Prince of Peace!' It is one of His fairest titles. But not till He -comes, Helena. Till then, earth will be red with the blood of her sons, -and moistened with the tears of her daughters. Let us pray for His -coming." - -"But holy Mother, that is ages off!" said I. - -"Is it?" she made answer. "Has the Lord told thee so much, Helena? Ah! -it may be--I know not, but I see nothing else to keep Him--it may be, -that if all the earth would come to Him to-day, He would come to us -to-morrow." - -"Holy Mother, I do not know what you mean by 'coming' to Him!" - -"Dear Helena," she said gently, "thou wilt not know, till thou art ready -to come." - -"But I do not understand that," said I. "How am I to get ready?" - -"'If any man thirst, let him come unto Me, and drink.' 'If thou knewest -the gift of God, thou wouldst have asked of Him, and He would have given -to thee water of life.' Art thou not athirst? and dost thou not know -the gift of God, dear maiden? Then ask Him to bestow on thee the -thirst, and the knowledge." - -I really do not know whether it was right or wrong, but that night, -after I had finished my Credo, and Paters, and the holy Angelical -Salutation, I ventured to say, in my own words,--"Fair Father, Jesu -Christ, give me what Lady Judith and Marguerite talk about." I hope it -was not very wicked. I did so tremble! And I do not properly know what -this thing is, only that it seems to make them happy; and why should I -not be happy too? I suppose the good God will know all about it. And as -He appears to be so condescending as to listen to Marguerite, who is but -a villein, surely He will hear me, who am noble. - -It is so odd that Amaury, who is such a simpleton himself, should be -perpetually calling me a simpleton. I do think, the more foolish people -are, the more fond they are of exhorting others not to be silly. It is -very funny. But this world is a queer place. - -"It is, indeed, Lynette," says Guy, with mock gravity, when I make the -remark to him. "The queerest place I have been in these thirty years." - -As Guy is scarcely twenty-seven, it may be supposed I cannot help -laughing. - -But there is another queer thing. It does really seem as if -villeins--at least some villeins--had genuine feelings, just like us -nobles. I have always thought that it was because Marguerite had -associated so much with nobles, that she seemed a little different--just -as you might impart the rose-scent to a handkerchief, if you shut it in -a drawer with rose-leaves. But I know she did not become my mother's -nurse until after her husband was dead: so she must have had feelings -before that, while she was no better off than any other villein. It is -very incomprehensible. And I suppose, too, when one comes to think -about it, we are all children of Adam and Eva. How did the difference -come, to begin with? - -It is very difficult to tell how things began. It is a great deal -easier to see how they end. Who would suppose, if men had never found -out, that the great river Danube, which rolls into the Black Sea, almost -like a sea itself in volume, came from the meltings of the ice and snow -upon the hills of Switzerland? - -"Ha!" says Marguerite, when I repeat my thoughts to her, "the great God -is so rich that He can bring the large things out of the small. We -others, we can only bring the small out of the large." - -"That sounds like spoiling things," said I. - -"Men are very apt to spoil what they touch," she answered. "The good -Lord never touches anything that He does not leave more beautiful. Has -He not blessed childhood and manhood, by becoming Child and Man? Is not -the earth fairer since He dwelt on it? and the little children dearer, -since He took them in His arms and blessed them? Ah, He might have -cared for me, and felt with me, just as much, if He had never been a -Man: but it would not have been the same thing to me. And He knew it. -When we love one very much, Damoiselle, we love what he has touched: and -if he touch us, ourselves, it sends a delicious thrill through us. The -good Lord knew that when He took on Him our nature, with all its -sufferings and infirmities,--when He touched us every where--in sorrow, -and weariness, and poverty, and hunger, and pain, and death. We can -suffer nothing which He has not suffered first,--on which He has not -laid His hand, and blessed it for His chosen. Thanks be to His Name! It -is like honey sweetening everything. And the things that are bitter and -acid want the most sweetening. So the good Lord chose poverty and pain. -Ease and riches are sweet of themselves. I have heard Father Eudes read -of one or two feasts where He was: He blessed joy as well as -sorrow,--perhaps lest we should fancy that there was something holy in -pain and poverty in themselves, and something wicked in being -comfortable and happy. Some people do think so, after all. But I have -heard Father Eudes read a great deal more of funerals than feasts, where -the blessed Lord was. He seemed to go where people wanted comforting, -much oftener than where they were comfortable. He knew that many more -would sorrow than rejoice." - -What strange eyes Marguerite has! She can look at nothing, but she sees -the good God. And the strangest thing is, that it seems to make her -happy. It always makes me miserable. To think of God, when I am bright -and joyous, is like dropping a black curtain over the brightness. Why -cannot I be like Marguerite? I ought to be a great deal happier than -she. There is something wrong, somewhere. - -Then of course there must be something holy in poverty--voluntary -poverty, that is--or why do monks and nuns take the vow of poverty? I -suppose there is nothing holy in simply being poor, like a villein. And -if our Lord really were poor, when He was on earth, that must have been -voluntary poverty. I said as much to Margot. - -"Damoiselle," said she, "every man who follows our Lord must carry his -cross. His own cross,--not somebody else's. And that means, I think, -the cross which the good God lays on His shoulders. The blessed Christ -Himself did not cut His own cross. But we others, we are very fond of -cutting our crosses for ourselves, instead of leaving the good God to -lay them on us. And we always cut them of the wrong wood. We like them -very light and pretty, with plenty of carving and gilding. But when the -good Lord makes the crosses, He puts no carving on them; and He often -hews out very rough and heavy ones. At least, He does so for the -strong. He makes them light, sometimes, for the weak; but there is no -gilding--only the pure gold of His own smile, and that is not in the -cross itself, but in the sunlight which He sends upon it. But my -Damoiselle will find, when men sort out the crosses, the strong walk -away with the light ones, and the rough and heavy fall to the weak. The -good Lord knows better than that." - -"But we don't all carry crosses, Margot," said I; "only religious -persons." - -Marguerite shook her head decidedly. - -"Damoiselle, all that learn of the good Lord must bear the cross. He -said so. 'If any man serve Me, let him follow Me'--and again, 'If any -man will come after Me, let him deny himself, and take up his cross, and -follow Me.' Father Eudes read them both. My Damoiselle sees--'_any_ -man.' That must mean all men." - -Well, I cannot understand it I only feel more puzzled than ever. I am -sure it would not make me happier to carry a heavy cross. Yet Lady -Judith and Marguerite are happy; I can see they are. Religion and good -people seem to be full of contradictions. How is one to understand -them? - - - - - *CHAPTER X.* - - _*PREPARING FOR THE STRUGGLE*_*.* - - - "He that hath a thousand friends hath not a friend to spare, - And he that hath one enemy shall find him every where." - - -I have thought, and thought, about Lady Judith's question concerning -perfection, and, as I expected, I cannot see my way through it at all. -And what is more, I do not see how to reconcile it with what she said -herself of Sister Eudoxia. So this morning I took the liberty of asking -her what she meant. - -Lady Judith smiled, and replied, "Wert thou puzzled, Helena?" - -"Yes, holy Mother," said I, "very much." - -"I am glad of it," she answered. "I wanted to puzzle thee, and make -thee think." - -"I have been thinking a great deal," I said, "but I cannot think my way -out of the labyrinth." - -"We must take counsel of Holy Writ to find our way out," answered Lady -Judith; and she laid her hand on her Greek Bible, which is a very -handsome book, bound in carved wood, and locked with a golden clasp. -She unlocked it with the little key which hangs from her girdle, and -said, "Now listen, Helena. In the days when our Lord dwelt on middle -earth, there were certain men amongst the Jews, called Pharisees, who -were deemed exceedingly holy persons. So exact were they in the -fulfilment of all duties, that they did not reckon their tithes paid, -unless they taxed the very pot-herbs in their gardens. Yet our Lord -said to His disciples,--'If your righteousness surpass not that of the -Pharisees, ye shall not enter into the kingdom of Heaven.'" - -"Likely enough," said I. "Surely any christened man could easily be -better than heathen Jews." - -"But He said more, Helena. 'Be ye then perfect, even as your Father, He -in the heavens, is perfect.'" - -"Perfect as the good God is perfect!" I exclaimed. - -"That is our standard," she responded. "We are not to rest short of -that." - -"But we cannot! You yourself said it, holy Mother, when we were talking -of Sister Eudoxia." - -"I did, my child. Let us take two more passages from Holy Writ, and see -if they cast any light upon it. 'The end of the law is Christ, unto -righteousness, to every believer.' 'And ye are in Him complete.'" - -"I do not understand them, holy Mother." - -"I have heard thee speak, Helena, of thy favourite legend of the two -good knights of Greece. What was it that Sir Pythias agreed to do for -Sir Damon?" - -"To suffer death in his stead, if he did not return home at the -appointed time." - -"Suppose that Sir Pythias had suffered death before Sir Damon's return, -and that when Sir Damon came back, the Lord King had put him to death -also: what wouldst thou call that?" - -"Oh, that would never have been just!" said I. - -"But why? Sir Damon had been sentenced to die." - -"Yes, but when another had died for him--Oh, it would be cruelly -unfair!" - -"In other words, Sir Damon would be reckoned to have died, so far as the -law was concerned, in the person of his friend?" - -"Exactly," said I. - -"And this friend, remember, had voluntarily given his life. Now, this -is the point to which I want to bring thee. The death of Sir Pythias -would have been reckoned to Sir Damon; and this last would have been -accounted to have paid the full penalty to which he was sentenced, and -to be thenceforward a free and blameless man." - -"Of course," said I. "There could have been no other result." - -"Now, Helena dear, this is what Christ has done for all believers. His -death is reckoned to them, and they are thenceforward free and -blameless--perfect as He is perfect, 'complete in Him.' Not in -themselves, mind: never! In themselves they are sinners to the last -hour of life. But in Him, on account of His atoning death and holy -obedience, God's holy law reckons them perfect as Himself. So that, in -one sense, they are perfect for ever: in another sense, they are utterly -imperfect so long as they live. 'For by one offering He hath perfected -in perpetuity the hallowed ones.'" - -"But, holy Mother," I asked, "what do you mean by 'in Him'?" - -"My child," she answered, "I doubt if any but God knows all that is -meant by that deep word. And what man knows cannot be told to -another,--it can only be felt. But it means light, and life, and joy, -Helena: the very light that God is, the life of all the ages, the joy -with which no stranger intermeddleth. Only taste it, and see. No -draught of sin can be truly sweet to thee again, after one drop of that -wine of Heaven." - - -I am quite delighted to find that Messire Tristan de Montluc, who has -exasperated me for nearly two years past by playing the broken-hearted -lover, has got his heart mended again. I was beginning to entertain a -desperate wish that he would take the cowl, for it made me feel a -perfect wretch whenever I looked at him: and yet what could I have said -to Guy but what I did? I feel indescribably relieved to hear that he is -going after his brother to Byzantium, and intensely delighted to find -that he is privately engaged to Melisende de Courtenay. I believe she -will make him a good wife (which I never could have done): and it is -such a comfort to know that he has given over caring about me. - -It does seem not unlikely that we may have war. There are flying rumours -of Saladin's drawing nearer. May the good God avert it! I believe -Amaury would tell me that I was a simpleton, if he heard me say so. - -The holy Patriarch Heraclius, and the Lord Roger, Master of the Temple, -have set forth on a pilgrimage to the shrines of the West. They intend -to visit Compostella and Canterbury, amongst others. - -Count Raymond has been behaving rather better lately--that is, we have -not seen quite so much of him. - -A letter from Alix came to hand last week; but there is nothing of -interest in it, except that every one is well. She says her child -begins to walk, and can already prattle fluently: which called forth a -growl from Amaury, who wants to know why every body's children thrive -but his. It is not true, for little Heloise is really an engaging -child, and has excellent health. - -"Ah!--but then," says Guy, aside to me, with arched eyebrows, "she is -only a girl, poor little good-for-nothing!" - -I know Guy does not think so, for he is devoted to his little Agnes; and -Heloise is certainly the prettier child. But neither of them is equal -to the little King, who is a most beautiful boy, and has the quaintest -sayings ever heard from a child. - - -There, now! Did any body ever see any thing like these men? - -Messire Tristan set forth yesterday morning; and what should he say to -Guy (who told me, with his eyes full of fun) but-- - -"Damoiselle Elaine will find out that it does not do to trifle with a -man's heart. She will doubtless be angry at my defection; but I have -borne long enough with her caprice, and have now transferred my -affections to one who can be truer!" - -Was ever mortal creature so misrepresented? Why, the man must have -thought I did not mean what I said! My caprice, indeed! Trifle with a -man's heart! And as if affection could be transferred at will from one -person to another! - -Guy seemed excessively amused with my exclamations. - -"What a conceited set of people you men must be!" said I. - -"Well, we are rather a bad set," answered Guy, laughing. "O little -Elaine, thou art so funny!" - -"Pray, what is there funny about me?" said I. "And please to tell me, -Guy, why men always seem to fancy that women do not know their own -minds?" - -"Well, they don't," said Guy. - -"Only the silly ones, who have no minds to know," I replied. - -"Just so," answered he. "But those, thou seest, are the generality of -women. Rubies are scarce; pebbles are common." - -"Only among women?" said I. - -"Possibly not," responded Guy, looking very much amused. "Poor De -Montluc appears to be a ruby in his own eyes, and I presume he is only a -pebble in thine. Let us hope that Damoiselle Melisende will consider -him a gem of priceless value." - -Well, I am sure I have no objection to that. - -But another idea occurs to me, which is by no means so pleasant. Since -other people are always misunderstanding me, can it be possible that I -am constantly misunderstanding other people? I do think I have -misunderstood Eschine, and I am sorry for it. I like her a great deal -better now than I ever expected to do, and I almost admire that quiet -endurance of hers--partly because I feel Amaury so trying, and partly, I -suspect, because I have so little of the quality myself. But is it--can -it be--possible that I am misunderstanding Count Raymond? - -I do not think so. Why should I think of a beautiful serpent whenever I -look at him? Why should I feel a sensation, of which I cannot get rid, -as if that dark handsome face of his covered something repugnant and -perilous? It is not reason that tells me this: it is something more -like instinct. Is it a true warning to beware of the man, or only a -foolish, baseless fancy, of which I ought to be ashamed? - -And--I cannot tell why--it has lately assumed a more definite and -dreadful form. A terror besets me that he has some design on Lady -Sybil. He knows that she is the rightful heir of the crown: and that--I -do believe, through his machinations--she has been set aside for her own -son. If his wife were to die--the holy saints defend it!--I believe him -capable of poisoning Guy, in order to marry Sybil, and to make himself -King of Jerusalem. - -Am I very wicked, that such ideas come into my head? Yet I do not know -how to keep them out. I do not invite them, yet they come. And in the -Count's manner to Lady Sybil there is a sort of admiring, flattering -deference, which I do not like to see,--something quite different from -his manner towards her sister. I do not think she is conscious of it, -and I fancy Guy sees nothing. - -Oh dear, dear! There is something very wrong in this world altogether. -And I cannot see how it is to be set right. - -I asked Lady Judith this evening if she believed in presentiments. - -She answered, "Yes, when they come from God." - -"Ah!--but how is one to know?" - -"Ask Him to remove the feeling, if it be not true." - -I will try the plan. But if it should not answer? - - -The heats of summer are so great, and the Holy City is considered so -very unhealthy, that the Regent proposes to remove the Lord King to the -city of Acre, until the hot weather is over. Guy and Lady Sybil are -going to stay at Ascalon, a city which is Guy's own, and close to the -coast, though not actually a sea-port like Acre. I cannot help being -glad to hear that there will be something like a week's journey between -Guy and Count Raymond. I may be unjust, but--I do not know. I have -offered seven Paters every evening, that the good God might take the -thought out of my heart if it be wicked: but it seems to me that it only -grows stronger. I told Lady Judith that her plan did not answer; that -is, that the presentiment did not go. - -"What is this thought which troubles thee, little one?" said she. - -"Holy Mother," said I, "do you ever utterly mistrust and feel afraid of -some particular person, without precisely having a reason for doing so?" - -Lady Judith laid down her work, and looked earnestly at me. - -"I generally have a reason, Helena. But I can quite imagine--Who is it, -my child? Do not fear my repeating what thou mayest tell me." - -"It is the Lord Regent," said I. "I feel afraid of him, as I might of a -tamed tiger, lest the subdued nature should break out. I do not believe -in his professions of friendship for Guy. And I do not at all like his -manner to Lady Sybil." - -Lady Judith's eyes were fixed on me. - -"I did not know, Helena, how sharp thine eyes were. Thou wert a child -when thou camest here; but I see thou art one no longer. So thou hast -seen that? I thought I was the only one." - -It struck me with a sensation as of sickening fear, to find that my -suspicions were shared, and by Lady Judith. - -"What is to be done?" I said in a whisper. "Shall I speak to Guy?--or -Lady Sybil?" - -Lady Judith's uplifted hand said unmistakably, "No!" - -"Watch," she said. "Watch and pray, and wait. Oh, no speaking!--at -least, not yet." - -"But till when?" I asked. - -"I should say, till you all return here--unless something happen in the -interim. But if thou dost speak, little one--do not be surprised if -nobody believe thee. Very impulsive men, like thy brother, rarely -indulge suspicion or mistrust: and Sybil is most unsuspicious. They are -likely enough to think thee fanciful and unjust." - -"It would be too bad!" said I. - -"It would be very probable," she responded. - -"Holy Mother," said I, "what do you think he aims at doing?" - -I wanted to know, yet scarcely dared to ask, if the same dread had -occurred to her as to me. - -"I think," she said unhesitatingly, "he aims at making himself King, by -marriage, either with Sybil or with Isabel." - -"But he would have to murder his own wife and the lady's husband!" cried -I. - -"No need, in the first case. The Lady Countess suffers under some -internal and incurable disorder, which must be fatal sooner or later; it -is only a question of time. Her physicians think she may live about two -years, but not longer. And so long as she lives, thy brother's life is -safe." - -"But if she were to die--?" - -"Then it might be well to warn him. But we know not, Helena, what may -happen ere then. The Lord reigneth, my child. It is best to put what -we love into His hands, and leave it there." - -"But how do I know what He would do with it?" said I, fearfully. - -"He knows. And that is enough for one who knows Him." - -"It is not enough for me," said I sadly. - -"Because thou dost not know Him. Helena, art thou as much afraid of the -good God as of the Lord Regent?" - -"Not in the same way, of course, holy Mother," I replied; "because I -think the Lord Regent a wicked man." - -"No, but to the same extent?" - -"I don't know. I think so," said I, in a low voice. - -"Of Christ that died, and that intercedeth for us? Afraid of Him, -Helena?" - -"O holy Mother, I don't know!" I said, bursting into tears. "I am -afraid it is so. And I cannot help it. I cannot tell how to alter it. -I want to be more like you and old Marguerite; but I don't know how to -begin." - -"Wilt thou not ask the Lord to show thee how to begin?" - -"I have done: but He has not done it." - -Lady Judith laid her hand on my bowed head, as if to bless me. - -"Dear Helena," she said, "do not get the idea into thine head that thou -wilt have to persuade God to save thee. He wishes it a great deal more -than thou. But He sometimes keeps his penitents waiting in the dark -basilica outside, to teach them some lesson which they could not learn -if they were admitted at once into the lighted church. Trust Him to let -thee in as soon as the right time comes. Only be sure not to get weary -of knocking, and go away." - -"But what does He want to teach me, holy Mother?" - -"I do not know, my child. He knows. He will see to it that thou art -taught the right lesson, if only thou wilt have the patience to wait and -learn." - -"Does God teach every body patience?" said I, sighing. - -"Indeed He does: and perhaps there is scarcely a lesson which we are -more slow to learn." - -"I shall be slow enough to learn that lesson, I am sure!" said I. - -Lady Judith smiled. - -"Inattentive children are generally those that complain most of the -hardness of their tasks," said she. - -We were both silent for a while, when Lady Judith said quietly-- - -"Helena, what is Christ our Lord to thee?" - -"I am not sure that I understand you, holy Mother," said I. "Christ our -Lord is God." - -"Good; but what is He _to thee_?" - -I felt puzzled. I did not know that He was any thing more to me than to -every body else. - -"Dost thou not understand? Then tell me, what is Monseigneur the Count -of Ascalon to thee?" - -"Guy?" asked I in a little surprise. "He is my own dear brother--the -dearest being to me in all the world." - -"Then that is something different from what he is to others?" - -"Of course!" I said rather indignantly. "Guy could never be to -strangers what he is to me! Why, holy Mother, with all deference, you -yourself know that. He is not that to you." - -"Thou hast spoken the very truth," said she. "But, Helena, that which he -is to thee, and not to me,--that dearest in all the world, ay, in all -the universe,--my child, Christ is that to me." - -I looked at her, and I saw the soft, radiant light in the grey eyes: and -I could not understand it. Again that strange, mortified feeling took -possession of me. Lady Judith knew something I did not; she had -something I had not; and it was something which made her happier than -any thing had yet made me. There was a gulf between us; and I was on -the rocky, barren side of it, and she on the one waving with corn and -verdant with pasture. - -It was not at all a pleasant feeling. And I could see no bridge across -the gulf. - -"You are a religious person, holy Mother," said I. "I suppose that makes -the difference." - -Yet I did not believe that, though I said so. Old Marguerite was no -nun; and she was on the flowery side of that great gulf, as well as Lady -Judith. And if Lady Sybil were there also, she was no nun. That was not -the difference. - -"No, maiden," was Lady Judith's quiet answer. "Nor dost thou think so." - -I hung my head, and felt more mortified than ever. - -"Dost thou want to know it, Helena?" - -"Holy Mother, so much!" I said, bursting into tears. "You and -Marguerite seem to me in a safe walled garden, guarded with men and -towers; and I am outside in the open champaign, where the wolves are and -the robbers, and I do not know how to get in to you. I have been round -and round the walls, and I can see no gate." - -"Dear child;" said Lady Judith, "Jesus Christ is the gate of the Garden -of God. And He is not a God afar off, but close by. Hast thou asked -Him, and doth it seem as though He would not hear? Before thou say so -much, make very sure that nothing is stopping the way on thy side. -There is nothing but love, and wisdom, and faithfulness, on His." - -"What can stop the way?" I said. - -"Some form of self-love," she replied. "It has as many heads as the -hydra. Pride, indolence, covetousness, passion--but above all, -unbelief: some sort of indulged sin. Thou must empty thine heart, -Helena, if Christ is to come in: or else He will have to empty it for -thee. And I advise thee not to wait for that, for the process is very -painful. Yet I sometimes fear it will have to be the case with thee." - -"Well!" said I, "there is nobody in there but Guy and Lady Sybil, and a -few more a good deal nearer the gate. Does our Lord want me to empty my -heart of them?" - -I thought that, of course, being religious, she would say yes; and then -I should respond that I could not do it. But she said-- - -"Dear, the one whom our Lord wants deposed from the throne of thy heart -is Helene de Lusignan." - -"What, myself?" - -"Thyself," said Lady Judith, in the same quiet way. - -I made an excuse to fetch some gold thread, for I did not like that one -bit. And when I came back, things were even better than I hoped, for -Lady Isabel was in the room; and though Lady Judith will talk of -religious matters freely enough when Lady Sybil is present, yet she -never does so before her sister. - -Lady Judith is entirely mistaken. I am quite sure of that. I don't -love me better than any one else! I should think myself perfectly -despicable. Amaury does, I believe; but I don't. No, indeed! She is -quite mistaken. I scarcely think I shall be quite so glad as I expected -that Lady Judith is going to stay in the Holy City. I do like her, but -I don't like her to say things of that kind. - -"Marguerite," I said, an hour or two later, "dost thou think I love -myself?" - -"My Damoiselle does not think herself a fool," quietly answered the old -woman. - -"No, of course not," said I; "I know I have brains. How can I help it? -But dost thou think I love myself,--better than I love other people?" - -"We all love either ourselves or the good God." - -"But we can love both." - -Marguerite shook her head. "Ha!--no. That would be serving two -masters. And the good God Himself says no one can do that." - -I did not like this much better. So, after I finished my beads, I -kissed the crucifix, and I said,--"Sir God, show me whether I love -myself." Because,--though I do not like it,--yet, perhaps, if I do, it -is best to know it. - - -We reached Ascalon a week ago, making three short days' journey of it, -so as not to over-fatigue the little ones. Those of us who have come -are Guy and Lady Sybil, myself, Amaury and Eschine, and the little -girls, Agnes and Heloise. I brought Marguerite and Bertrade only to -wait on me. Lady Isabel prefers to stay at Hebron, which is only one -day's journey from the Holy City. She and Messire Homfroy quarrelled -violently about it, for he wished to go to Acre, and wanted her to -accompany him; but in the end, as usual, she had her own way, and he -will go to Acre, and she to Hebron. - -The night before we set forth, as I was passing Lady Judith's door, her -low voice said-- - -"Helena, my child, wilt thou come in here? I want a word with thee." - -So I went into her cell, which is perfectly plain, having no hangings of -any sort, either to the walls or the bed, only a benitier[#] of red -pottery, and a bare wooden cross, affixed to the wall. She invited me to -sit on her bed, and then she said-- - - -[#] Holy water vessel. - - -"Helena, unless thou seest some very strong reason, do not speak to the -Count touching the Count of Tripoli until we meet again." - -"Well, I thought I should not," said I. "But, holy Mother, will you -tell me why?" - -"We may be mistaken," she answered. "And, if not, I am very doubtful -whether it would not do more harm than good. After all, dear maiden, -the shortest cut is round by Heaven. Whenever I feel doubtful how far -it is wise to speak, I like to lay the matter before the Lord, and ask -Him to speak for me, if He sees good. He will make no mistake, as I -might: and He can tell secrets without doing harm, as probably I should. -It is the safest way, Helena, and the surest." - -"I should be afraid!" said I. "But of course, holy Mother, for you"---- - -"Yes," she said, answering my half-expressed thought. "It is a hard -matter to ask a favour of a stranger, especially if he be a king. But -where he is thy father----Dost thou understand me, maiden?" - -Ay, only too well. Well enough to make me feel sick at heart, as if the -gulf between grew wider than ever. Should I never find the bridge -across? - - -We lead such a quiet, peaceful life here! Some time ago, I should have -called it dull; but I am tired of pageants, and skirmishes, and -quarrels, and so it is rather a relief--for a little while. Lady Sybil, -I can see, enjoys it: she likes quiet. Amaury fumes and frets. I -believe Eschine likes it, but won't say so, because she knows Amaury -does not. I never saw the equal of Eschine for calm contentedness. -"All right"--"never mind it"--"it does not signify"--are the style of -her stock phrases when any thing goes wrong. And "Won't it be all the -same a hundred years hence?" That is a favourite reflection with her. - -"Oh dear, Eschine!" I could not help saying one day, "I do hate that pet -phrase of thine. A hundred years hence! That will be the year of our -Lord 1285. Why, thou and I will be nowhere then." - -"Nay, I suppose we shall be somewhere," was Eschine's grave answer. - -"Oh, well, don't moralise!" said I. "But thou knowest, if we were -always to look at things in that style, nothing would ever signify any -thing. It makes me feel as queer as Messire Renaud's notions--as if all -the world, and I in it, had gone into a jelly, and nothing was any -thing." - -Eschine laughed. But Eschine's laughter is always quiet. - -"I think thou dost not quite understand me, Elaine," said she. "I do -not use such phrases of things that do matter, but of those that do not. -I should not say such words respecting real troubles, however small. -But are there not a great many events in life, of which you can make -troubles or not, as you choose? An ill-dressed dish,--a disappointment -about the colour of a tunic,--a misunderstanding about the pattern of a -trimming,--a cut in one's finger,--and such as these,--is it not very -foolish to make one's self miserable about them? What can be more silly -than to spend half an hour in fretting over an inconvenience which did -not last a quarter?" - -"My dear Eschine, it sounds very grand!" said I. "Why dost thou not -teach Amaury to look at things in that charming way? He frets over -mistakes and inconveniences far more than Guy and I do." - -Eschine's smile had more patience than amusement in it. - -"For the same reason, Elaine, that I do not teach yonder crane to sing -like a nightingale." - -I can guess that parable. It would be mere waste of time and labour. - - -Guy did not forget my birthday yesterday; he gave me a beautiful coral -necklace, which one knows is good against poison. (I will take care to -wear it whenever Count Raymond is present.) Lady Sybil gave me a lovely -ring, set with an opal; and if I were at Acre, and had a bay-leaf to -wrap round it, I would go into the Count's chamber invisible, and listen -to him. Eschine's gift was a silver pomander, with a chain to hang it -by. Amaury (just like him!) forgot all about it till this morning, and -then gave me a very pretty gold filagree case, containing the holy -Evangel of Saint Luke, to hang round my neck for an amulet. - -Am I really nineteen years of age? I begin to feel so old!--and yet I -am the youngest of us. - - -I do think that nothing really nice ever lasts in this world. The Baron -de Montluc arrived here last night from Byzantium with all sorts of bad -news. In the first place, Saladin, with his Paynim army, has re-entered -the Holy Land, and is marching, as men fear, upon Neapolis. If he do -this, he will cut off Acre from the Holy City, and the young Lord King -cannot reach his capital. The Baron sent a trusty messenger back to -Acre, to Count Raymond, urging him to hasten to the Holy City with the -King, and lose not an hour in doing it. The coast road is still clear; -or he could come by sea to Jaffa. Messire de Montluc sent his own signet -as a token to Count Raymond--which ring the Count knows well. Guy has -ordered us all to pack up, and return without loss of time to the Holy -City, where he will take the command till Count Raymond arrives. - -"Now, Elaine!--how wouldst thou like a siege?" triumphantly asks Amaury. - -May all the holy saints avert such a calamity! - -But there is, if possible, even worse behind: inasmuch as a foe without -the gates is less formidable than a traitor within them. The Patriarch -(I will not call him holy this time) and the Lord Roger had returned as -far as Byzantium a few days before Messire de Montluc left that city, -and it comes out now, what all their fine talk of pilgrimage meant. They -have been at the Court of England on purpose to offer the crown of -Jerusalem to King Henry the father, seeing (say they) the distracted -state of the kingdom, the peril of Paynim war, and the fact that King -Henry is the nearest heir of King Foulques of Anjou. Well, upon my -word! As if the crown of Jerusalem were theirs to offer! - -It seems to me, too--but every body, even Guy, says that is only one of -my queer, unaccountable notions--that, since King Foulques of Anjou had -no right to the crown except as the husband of Queen Melisende, so long -as her heirs remain in existence, they should be preferred to his heirs -by another wife. But Amaury laughs at me for saying this. He says, of -course, when Count Foulques married Queen Melisende, and became King, -all her right passed to him, and she was thenceforth simply his consort, -his children having as much right as hers. It does not seem just and -fair to me; but every one only laughs, and says I have such absurd -fancies. - -"Why, what would be the good of marrying an heiress at all," says -Amaury, "if you had to give up her property when she died before you?" - -Still I do not see that it is just. And I wonder if, sometimes, the -queer ideas of one century do not become the common ideas of the next. -But Amaury seems to think that notion exquisitely ridiculous. - -"Nonsense, Elaine!" says he. "It was a simple matter of family -arrangement. Don't go and fancy thyself the wisest woman in the world! -Thou hast the silliest ideas I ever heard." - -"Well, I don't, Amaury," said I, "any more than I fancy thee the wisest -man." - -Guy laughed, and told Amaury he had a Roland for his Oliver. - - - - - *CHAPTER XI.* - - _*THE CALM BEFORE THE STORM*_*.* - - - "It was but unity of place - Which made me dream I ranked with him." - --TENNYSON. - - -Here we are, safe in the Holy City, after a hurried and most -uncomfortable journey. All the quiet is assuredly gone now. For the -Holy City is full of tumult--cries, and marchings, and musters, and -clashing of arms--from morning till night. Lady Judith, looking as calm -as ever, received us with a blessing, and a soft, glad light in her -eyes, which told that she was pleased to have us back. The Patriarch -and the Master of the Temple have not yet arrived. Guy thinks they may -tarry at Acre with Count Raymond, and come on in his train. - - -The Lord de Clifford has come from England, by way of Jaffa, with the -answer of King Henry the father. It seems that the Patriarch actually -took with him the keys of the Holy City and the blessed Sepulchre. I am -astonished that Count Raymond should have entrusted them to him. More -than this, they travelled by way of Rome, and through their wicked -misrepresentations obtained letters from the Holy Father, urging King -Henry to take on himself this charge. King Henry was holding Court at -Reading when they came to him, and the Patriarch says he was moved to -tears at their account of the miserable state of the Holy Land. (Well, -I am not going to deny the misery; but I do say it is Count Raymond's -fault, and that if matters had been left in Guy's hands, they would -never have come to this pass.) King Henry, however, would not give his -answer at once; but bade them wait till he had convoked his great -council, which sat at Clerkenwell on the eighteenth of March in last -year. The decision of the Parliament was that in the interests of -England the offer ought to be refused. - -"Well!" said Guy, "as a mere question of political wisdom, that is -doubtless right; for, apart from the pleasure of God, it would be the -ruin of England to have the Holy Land clinging round her neck like a -mill-stone. Yet remember, Lord Robert the Courthose never prospered -after he had refused this crown of the world. He impiously blew out the -taper which had been lighted by miracle; and think what his end was!" - -"But dost thou think, my Lord," asked Lady Sybil, looking up, "that he -meant it impiously? I have always thought his words so beautiful--that -he was not worthy to wear a crown of gold in the place where our Lord -had worn for us the crown of thorns." - -"Very beautiful, Lady," said Guy a little drily, "if he had not heard -just before the conference of the death of his brother, King William the -Red." - -Well!--when King Henry gave his answer, what did the Patriarch, but ask -that one of his sons might be substituted,--and Guy thinks he specially -indicated the Count of Poitou.[#] Guy says there are great -possibilities in our young Count; but Amaury sneers at the idea. -However, the King and the Parliament alike declined to accept in the -name of any of the Princes, seeing none of themselves were present: and -the Patriarch had to content himself with a promise of aid alone. King -Henry took him in his train to Normandy, and after celebrating the holy -Easter at Rouen, they had an interview with the French King at -Vaudreuil. Both the Kings promised help, swearing on the souls of each -other;[#] and many nobles, both French and English, took the holy cross. -It is hoped that the King of France and the Count of Poitou may lead an -army hither in a few months. - - -[#] Richard Coeur-de-Lion, whose reputation was yet to be made. - -[#] The usual oath of monarchs in solemn form. - - -"If we can manage to conclude a truce meanwhile, and they do not come -here to find us all slaughtered or prisoners to the Paynim," says Guy. -"Great bodies move slowly; and kings and armies are of that -description." - - -Saladin has taken Neapolis! Our scouts bring us word that he is -ravaging and burning all the land as he marches, and he has turned -towards the Holy City. Almost any morning, we may be awoke from sleep -with his dreadful magic engine sounding in our ears. Holy Mary and all -the saints, pray to the good God for His poor servants! - -And not a word comes from the Regent. Four several messengers Guy has -sent, by as many different routes, in the hope that at least one of them -may reach Acre, earnestly urging him to send instructions. We do not -even know the condition of matters at Acre. The King and the Regent may -themselves be prisoners. Oh, what is to be done? - -Guy says that whatever may become of him, the kingdom must not be lost: -and if ten days more pass without news of the Regent, he will parley -with Saladin, and if possible conclude a truce on his own -responsibility. I feel so afraid for Guy! I believe if Count Raymond -could find a handle, he would destroy him without mercy. Guy himself -seems to perceive that the responsibility he is ready to assume involves -serious peril. - -"Nevertheless, my Lady's inheritance must not be lost," he says. - -I asked Lady Judith this morning if she were not dreadfully frightened -of Saladin. They say he eats Christian children, and sometimes maidens, -when the children run short. - -"If I felt no alarm, I should scarcely be a woman, Helena," said she. -"But I took my fear to the Lord, as King David did. 'What time I am -afraid,' he says, 'I will trust in Thee.' And I had my answer last -night." - -"Oh!" said I. "What was it, if it please you, holy Mother?" - -She lifted her head with a light in the grey eyes. - -"'I am, I am thy Comforter. Know whom thou art, afraid of a dying man, -and of a son of men who wither like grass: and thou forgettest God thy -Maker, the Maker of the heaven and Foundation-Layer of the earth, and -fearest ever, every day, the face of the fury of thine oppressor.... -And now, where is the fury of thine oppressor?'" - -"Did the good God speak to you in vision, holy Mother?" - -"No, Helena. He spake to me as He does to thee--in His Word." - -I thought it would have been a great deal more satisfactory if she had -been told in vision. - -"But how do you know, holy Mother," I ventured to say, "that words -written in holy Scripture, ever so long ago, have something to do with -you now?" - -"God's Word is living, my child," she said; "it is not, like all other -books, a dead book. His Word who is alive for evermore, endureth for -ever. Moreover, there is a special promise that the Holy Spirit shall -bring God's words to the remembrance of His servants, as they need. And -when they come from Him, they come living and with power." - -"Then you think, holy Mother, that the Paynim will be driven back?" - -"I do not say that, my child. But I think that the God who turned back -Sennacherib is alive yet: and the Angel who smote the camp of the -Assyrians can do it again if his Lord command him. And if not--no real -mischief, Helena,--no real harm--can happen to him or her who abideth -under the shadow of God." - -"But we might be killed, holy Mother!" - -"We might," she said, so quietly that I looked at her in amazement. - -"Holy Mother!" I exclaimed. - -"Thou dost not understand our Lord's words, Helena!--'And they shall -kill some of you, ... and a hair from the head of you shall not be -lost.'" - -"Indeed I do not," said I bluntly. - -"And I cannot make thee do so," she added gently. "God must do it." - -But why does He not do it? Have I not asked Him, over and over again, -to make me understand? I suppose something is in the way, and something -which is my fault. But how am I to get rid of it when I do not even -know what it is? - - -The ten days are over, and no word comes from the Regent. Guy has -assumed, as Vice-Regent, the command of the Holy City. Of course he is -the person to do it, as Lady Sybil's husband. Our scouts report that -Saladin is marching through the pass of Gerizim. Guy has sent out a -trumpeter with a suitable armed escort, to sound a parley, and invite -the Paynim to meet with him and arrange for a truce at Lebonah. Until -the trumpeter returns, we do not know whether this effort will succeed. - -Lady Sybil, I can see, is excessively anxious, and very uneasy lest, if -Guy go to parley with Saladin, the wicked Paynim should use some -treachery towards him. - -"It is God's will!" she said; but I saw tears in her sweet eyes. "The -battle, and the toil, and the triumph for the men: the waiting, and -weeping, and praying for the women. Perhaps, in their way, the humble -bedeswomen do God's will as much as the warrior knights." - - -The trumpeter returned last night, with a message from Saladin almost -worthy of a Christian knight. It seems very strange that Paynims should -be capable of courtesy.[#] - - -[#] A most expressive word in the Middle Ages, not restricted, as now, -civility, but including honourable sentiments and generous conduct. - - -Saladin is willing to conclude a truce, and will meet Guy at Lebonah to -do so; but it is to be for six months only, and Guy says the terms are -somewhat hard. However, it is the best thing he can do: and as the -Regent maintains his obstinate silence, something must be done. So far -as our envoys could learn, the Paynim army has not been near Acre, and -only crossed the Jordan some thirty miles lower down. It appears clear, -therefore, that the Regent might have answered if he would. - - -Guy and Amaury set out yesterday morning for Lebonah to meet Saladin. -It is two or three days' journey from the Holy City, and allowing three -days more for conference, it must be ten days at least ere they can -return. - -I wander about the house, and can settle to nothing. Lady Sybil sits at -work, but I believe she weeps more than she works. Eschine's embroidery -grows quietly. I have discovered that she carries her heart out of -sight. - -We were talking this morning--I hardly know how the subject came -up--about selfishness. Lady Isabel said, with a toss of her head, that -she was sure no reasonable being could call her selfish. (Now I could -not agree with her, for I have always thought her very much so.) Lady -Judith quietly asked her in what she thought selfishness consisted. - -"In being stingy and miserly, of course," said she. - -"Well, but stingy of what?" responded Lady Judith. "I think people make -a great mistake when they restrict selfishness merely to being miserly -with money. I should say that the man is unselfish who will give -willingly that which he counts precious. But that means very different -things to different people." - -"I wonder what it means to us five," said I. - -Lady Judith looked round with a smile. "I almost think I could tell -you," said she. - -"Oh, do!" we all said but Lady Isabel. - -"Well, to me," answered Lady Judith, "it means, submitting,--because -some one wishes it who has a right to my submission, or else as a matter -of Christian love--to do any thing in a way which I think inferior, -absurd, or not calculated to effect the end proposed. In other words, -my ruling sin is self-satisfaction." - -We all exclaimed against this conclusion: but she maintained that it was -so. - -"Then," she continued, "to Sybil, it means depriving herself of her -lord's society, either for his advantage or for that of some one else." - -Lady Sybil smiled and blushed. "Then my ruling sin----?" she said -interrogatively. - -"Nay, I did not undertake to draw that inference in any case but my -own," said Lady Judith with an answering smile. - -We all--except Lady Isabel--begged that she would do it for us. She -seemed, I thought, to assent rather reluctantly. - -"You will not like it," said she. "And if you drew the inference for -yourselves, you would be more likely to attend to the lesson conveyed." - -"Oh, but we might do it wrong," I said. - -Lady Judith laughed. "Am I, then, so infallible that I cannot do it -wrong?" said she. "Well, Sybil, my dear, if thou wouldst know, I think -thy tendency--I do not say thy passion, but thy tendency--is to -idolatry." - -"Oh!" cried Lady Sybil, looking quite distressed. - -"But now, misunderstand me not," pursued Lady Judith. "Love is not -necessarily idolatry. When we love the creature _more_ than the -Creator--when, for instance, thou shalt care more to please thy lord -than to please the Lord--then only is it idolatry. Therefore, I use the -word tendency; I trust it is not more with thee.--Well, then, with -Isabel"---- - -Lady Isabel gave a toss of her head,--a gesture to which she is very -much addicted. - -"With Isabel," continued Lady Judith, "unselfishness would take the form -of resigning her own ease or pleasure to suit the convenience of -another, Her temptation, therefore, is to indolence and self-pleasing. -With Helena"---- - -I pricked up my ears. What was I going to hear? - -"With Helena," said she, smiling on me, "it would be, I think, to fulfil -some duty, though those whom she loved might misunderstand her and think -her silly for it." - -"Then what is my besetting sin, holy Mother?" - -"Pride of intellect, I think," she answered; "very nearly the same as my -own." - -"Holy Mother, you have left out Dame Eschine!" said Lady Isabel rather -sharply. - -"Have I?" said Lady Judith. "Well, my children, you must ask the Lord -wherein Eschine's selfishness lies, for I cannot tell. I dare not deny -its existence; I believe all sinners have it in some form. Only, in -this case, _I_ cannot detect it." - -Eschine looked up with an expression of utter amazement. - -"Holy Mother!" she exclaimed. "It seemed to me, as you went on, that I -had every one of those you mentioned." - -Lady Judith's smile was very expressive. - -"Dear child," she said, "these are not my words,--'Blessed are the poor -in spirit; for theirs is the kingdom of the heavens.'" - -Does she think Eschine the best of us all? Is she? Dear me! I never -should have thought it. - -"Well!" said Lady Isabel, with a sort of snort, and another toss, "I am -quite sure that I have not one of those faults you mentioned." - -"Ah, my child!" responded Lady Judith. "Take heed of the Pharisee -spirit--Eschine, what wouldst thou say was thy besetting sin?" - -"I really cannot tell, I have so many!" answered Eschine modestly. "But -I sometimes think that it may be--perhaps--a want of meekness and -patience." - -I stared at her in astonishment. - -"Well, thank the saints, I am in no want of patience!" said Lady Isabel. -"And if any one knew all I have to try it"---- - -I turned and looked at her, if possible, in astonishment still greater. - -Really, how very, very little, people do know themselves! If there be a -patient creature in this world, it is Eschine: and if there be an -impatient one, it is Lady Isabel. - -I wonder whether I know myself? I do not think I should have set myself -down as proud of my intellect. But we Lusignans always have had -brains--except Amaury; he has stepped out of the ranks. And I don't like -people to disagree with me, and contradict me, nor to behave as if they -thought I had no sense. That is true enough. I suppose I must be -proud. - -And yet, it cannot be wrong to know that one has brains. What is pride? -Where does the knowledge end, and the sin begin? Oh dear! how is one -ever to know? - -If two and two would only make four in every thing! Or is it that one -makes mistakes one's self in the adding-up? - - -Lady Judith asked me this morning if I was vexed with her yesterday, for -what she said of me. - -"Oh no!" I answered at once. "But I did not know that I was proud of my -intellect. I think I knew that I was proud of my rank." - -"Thou art right there, my child," she said. "Yet I fear the pride of -intellect is more likely to harm thee, just because thou art less -conscious of it." - -"Holy Mother," said I, "do you think my sister Eschine the best of us?" - -"We human creatures, Helena, are poor judges of each other. But if thou -wouldst know--so far as I am able to judge--I think the two holiest -persons in all this Palace are Eschine and thine old Margarita." - -"Better than Lady Sybil!" I cried. - -"I do not undervalue Sybil. She is good and true; and I believe she -does earnestly desire to serve God. But it seems to me that the most -Christ-like spirit I know is not Sybil, but Eschine." - -I must think about it, and study Eschine. I certainly made a sad -mistake when I thought there was nothing in her. But the holiest person -in the house! That seems very strange to me. I believe, now, that what -I took for absence of feeling is a mixture of great humility and -profound self-control. But the queerest thing is, that I think she -really loves Amaury. And how any creature can love Amaury is a puzzle -to me. For no being with an atom of brains can look up to him: and how -can you love one whom you cannot respect? Besides which, he evidently -despises Eschine--I believe he does all women--and he scolds and snubs -her from morning to night for everything she does or does not do. Such -treatment as that would wear my love in holes--If it were possible for -me ever to feel any for such an animal as Amaury. If I were Eschine, I -should be anxious to get as far away from him as I could, and should be -delighted when he relieved me of his company. Yet I do think Eschine -really misses him, and will be honestly glad when he comes back, It is -very unaccountable. - -Our anxieties are all turned to rejoicing at once. Guy and Amaury -returned last night, having concluded a six months' truce with Saladin: -and Eschine had the pleasure--I am sure she felt it a very great -one--when Amaury entered her chamber, of placing in his arms the boy for -whom he had so fervently longed, who was born three days before they -came back. Little Hugues--Amaury says that must be his name--seems as -fine a child as Heloise, and as likely to live. Amaury was about as -pleased as it is in his nature to be; but he always seems to have his -eyes fixed on the wormwood of life rather than the honey. - -"Thou hast shown some sense at last!" he said; and Eschine received this -very doubtful commendation as if it had been the most delightful -compliment. Then Amaury turned round, and snapped at me, because I could -not help laughing at his absurdity. - -I asked Marguerite this evening what she thought was her chief fault. - -"Ha!--the good God knows," she said. "It is very difficult to tell -which of one's faults is the worst." - -"But what dost thou think?" said I. - -"Well," she answered, "I think that my chief fault is--with all -deference--the same as that of my Damoiselle: and that is pride. Only -that we are proud of different things." - -"And of what art thou proud, Margot?" asked I laughingly, but rather -struck to find that she had hit on the same failing (in me) as Lady -Judith. - -"Ha! My Damoiselle may well ask. And I cannot tell her. What is or -has an old villein woman, ignorant and foolish, to provoke pride? I only -know it is there. It does not fasten on one thing more than another, -but there it is. And pride is a very subtle sin, if it please my -Damoiselle. If I had nothing in the world to be proud of but that I was -the ugliest woman in it, I believe I could be proud of that." - -I laughed. "Well, and wherein lies my pride, Margot?" said I, wishful -to see whether she altogether agreed with Lady Judith. - -"Can I see into the inmost heart of my Damoiselle? It is like a shut-up -coffer, this human heart. I can only look on the outside, I. But on the -outside, I see two things. My Damoiselle is noble, and she is clever. -And she knows both." - -"Which is the worse, Margot?" - -"Ha! Both are bad enough, to make pride. But this I think: that even a -king can never fancy himself so noble as the good God; yet a good many -of us think ourselves quite as wise." - -"O Margot!--who could think that?" - -"Does my Damoiselle herself never think that she could arrange matters -better than the good God is ordering them? What is that, but to say in -our hearts, 'I am the wiser'?" - -It is very queer, how Lady Judith and Marguerite always do think alike. - -"Margot, who wouldst thou say was the holiest woman in this house?" - -The answer was unhesitating. - -"I do not know; I can only guess. But if my Damoiselle wishes me to -guess--the noble Lady Judith, and Dame Eschine." - -How very odd! - -"When I asked thee once before, Margot, thou didst not mention Eschine -at all." - -"Let my Damoiselle pardon me. I did not know enough of her then. And -she is not one to know in a minute. Some are like an open book, quickly -read: and others are like a book in a strange tongue, of which one knows -but little, and they have to be spelt out; and some, again, are like a -locked book, which you cannot read at all without the key. Dame -Eschine, if my Damoiselle pleases, is the book in the strange tongue; -but the book is very good, and quite worth the trouble to learn it." - -"Where didst thou find such a comparison, Margot? Thou canst not read." - -"I? Ha!--no. But I can see others do it." - -"And what kind of book am I, Margot?" - -"Ha!--my Damoiselle is wide, wide open." - -"And the Lady Sybil?" asked I, feeling much amused. - -"Usually, open; but she can turn the key if she will." - -I was rather surprised. "And Count Guy?" - -"Quite as wide open as my Damoiselle." - -"Then where dost thou find thy locked book, Margot?" - -I was still more astonished at the answer. - -"If my Damoiselle pleases,--the Lady Isabel." - -"O Margot! I think she is quite easy to read." - -"I am mistaken," said Marguerite with quiet persistence, "if my -Damoiselle has yet read one page of that volume." - -"Now I should have called the Regent a locked book," said I. - -"Hardly, if my Damoiselle pleases. There is a loose leaf which peeps -out." - -"Well, that romance is not a pleasant one," said I. - -"Pleasant? Ha!--no. But it is long, and one cannot see the end of the -story before one comes to it." - - -At last, a letter has come from the Regent. - -It is quite different to what I expected. He approves of all that Guy -has done, and more,--he actually thanks him for acting so promptly. -(Are we misjudging the man?) The King is in good health, and the Regent -thinks he will very shortly do well to return to the Holy City, as soon -as the autumn rains are well over. The Lady Countess, he says, is -suffering greatly, and he fears the damp weather increases her malady. -He speaks quite feelingly about it, as though he really loved her. - - -Early this morning was born dear Lady Sybil's second baby--still, like -Agnes, a little frail thing; and still a daughter. But Guy seems just -as pleased with his child as if it were a healthy boy. He is so -different from Amaury! - -Both Guy and Lady Sybil wish the infant to bear my name. So this -evening the Patriarch is to christen her Helena,--thus placing her under -the safe protection of the blessed Saint Helena, mother of the Lord -Constantine the Emperor, and also of the holy Queen of Adiabene, who -bestowed such toil and money on the holy shrines. - -As if to show that joys, as well as misfortunes, do not come single, -this afternoon arrived a courier with letters from Lusignan,--one from -Monseigneur to Guy, another from Raoul for Amaury, and one from Alix for -me. All are well, thank the saints!--and Alix has now three children, -of whom two are boys. Raoul is about to make a grand match, with one of -the richest heiresses in Normandy,--the Lady Alix, Countess of Eu. -Little Valence, Guillot's elder child, has been betrothed to the young -Seigneur de Parthenay. I am rather surprised that Guillot did not look -higher, especially after Guy's marriage and Raoul's. - -Guy asked me to-day when I meant to be married. - -"Oh, please, Guy, don't talk about it!" said I. "I would so much rather -not." - -"Dost thou mean to be a nun, then?" asked he. I think he hardly expected -it. - -"Well," said I, "if I must, I must. But I want to know why I could not -go on living quietly without either?" - -"Ah, one of the original notions of the Damoiselle de Lusignan," said -he. "Because, my eccentric Elaine, nobody ever does." - -"But why does nobody?" said I. "And why should not I begin it? Every -thing must begin some time, and with somebody." - -But Guy seemed so much amused that I did not pursue the topic. - -"Please thyself," said he, when he had finished laughing. "But why dost -thou prefer single life?" - -"For various reasons," said I. "For one, I like to have my own way." - -"Well, now, women are queer folks!" said Guy. "Oh my most rational -sister, wilt thou not have to obey thine abbess? And how much better -will that be than obeying thine husband?" - -"It will be better in two respects," I answered. "In the first place, an -abbess is a woman, and would therefore be more reasonable than a man; -and in"---- - -"Oh dear! I did not understand that!" said Guy. "I am rather ignorant -and stupid." - -"Thou art," said I. "And in the second, I should try, as soon as -possible, to be an abbess myself." - -"My best wishes attend thy speedy promotion, most holy Mother!" said -Guy, bowing low, but laughing. "I perceive I was very stupid. But thou -seest, I really did not know that women were such extremely reasonable -beings. I fancied that, just now and then, they were slightly -unreasonable." - -"Now, Guy, give over!" said I. "But can I not wait a while? Must I -decide at once?" - -"Of course not, if that be thy wish," said Guy. "But thou art past the -usual age for profession." - -"Then I shall be all the more likely to receive promotion quickly," I -replied. - -"Fairest of nuns, here is my sword!" said Guy, kneeling and offering me -the hilt. "I surrender myself, a vanquished prisoner, to thy superior -wisdom." - -So the matter passed off in a good laugh. - -Now that the truce is concluded, all is peaceful and happy. It is so -nice, after the tumult, and suspense, and anxiety, to have nothing to -think of but what robe one shall wear to this feast, and how one shall -arrange one's jewels for that dance. I wish it would last for ever!--if -only one did not get tired even of pleasant things, when they have gone -on for a while. If one could get hold of some pleasure of which one -never got tired! - -I want to introduce our national dance of Poitou, the minuet. I have -taught it to Lady Isabel, and two or three of the damsels in waiting: -and Perette and Bertrade will help. Lady Isabel admires it very much; -she says it is a grand, stately dance, and fit for a princess. - -It seems very odd to me, that the ladies of this country look upon it as -beneath them to superintend the cooking, and leave it all to their -servants. How strange it would be if we did that in Poitou! They order -what is to be done, but they never put their own hands to the work. I -know what Alix would look like, if I told her. - -The first banquet was to have been on Monday, but it is an unlucky day, -as the moon will be in opposition to Mars; so it had to be deferred. We -heard yesterday that the Countess of Edessa actually gave a banquet last -week on a vigil, and what should she do but invite just enough to make -thirteen! I suppose she never thought about either. She is the most -thoughtless woman I ever saw. Messire de Montluc was one of the guests, -and when he perceived the calamity, he feigned to bleed at the nose, and -asked leave to retire. I suppose he did not wish to run the risk of -dying within a year and a day. How can people be so careless? Why, it -is almost as bad as murder. - - - - - *CHAPTER XII.* - - _*WILL SHE GIVE HIM UP?*_ - - - _Elmina_.--We can bear all things! - _Gonsalez_.--Can ye bear disgrace? - _Ximena_.--We were not born for this. - --FELICIA HEMANS. - - -I suppose it is only about thirty hours, yet it looks as if it might be -as many weeks, since I sat in the bower with Lady Judith, broidering a -mantle of cramoisie for Lady Sybil. We were talking of different -things, carrying on no special train of conversation. Lady Sybil had -been with us; but, a few minutes before, Guy had called her into the -hall, to assist in receiving a messenger just arrived with letters from -the Regent. Something which Lady Judith said amused me, and I was -making a playful reply, when all at once there broke on us, from the -hall, such a bitter, wailing cry, as instantly told us that something -terrible must have happened. The mantle was dropped upon the rushes, -and Lady Judith and I were both in the hall in an instant. - -The messenger, a young knight, stood at the further side of the dais, -where were Guy and Lady Sybil. She had apparently fainted, or was very -near it, and he was holding her in his arms, and endeavouring to whisper -comfort. - -"Oh, what is the matter?" broke from me, as my eyes sought first Guy and -then the messenger. - -Guy did not answer. I am not sure that he heard me. It was the young -knight who replied. - -"Damoiselle, if it please your Nobility, our young Lord Beaudouin the -King has been commanded to the Lord." - -I never wished I was not noble until that minute. Had I been a villein, -he would have told me without considering the pleasure of my Nobility, -and I should have been out of suspense one second sooner. - -Lady Judith's one thought seemed to be for the poor mother, who was -utterly overcome by the sudden news of her first-born's death. She -actually opened the casement with her own hands, though there were -plenty of damsels and squires in the hall, whom she might have called to -do it. One she sent for water, and sprinkled a few drops on Lady -Sybil's face, entreating her to drink some wine which a squire brought -in haste. She appeared to swallow with difficulty, but it seemed to -revive her, and her voice came back. - -"Oh, my boy, my boy!" she cried piteously. "And I was not there! It was -not in my arms he died. My first-born, my darling! I was not there." - -Ay, that seemed the climax of her misery--she was not there! I was -very, very sorry, both for her and for the child. But another thought -soon darted into my brain, and it was too hard for me to solve. Who was -the King of Jerusalem now? When I thought it meet, I whispered the -question to Guy. He made me no answer in words, but his quick downward -glance at the golden head still bowed upon his arm told me what he -thought. And all at once the full significance of that death flashed -upon me. Lady Sybil was the Queen of the World, and might have to do -battle for her glorious heritage. - -There was no doubt concerning the right. Only two remained of the House -of Anjou: and there could be no question as to whether the elder or -younger sister should succeed. Lady Sybil's right had been originally -set aside: and now it had come back to her. - -In an instant I saw, as by a flash of lightning, that the idea had -occurred to others; for the squire had offered the wine upon the knee. - -But the Regent! Would he acquiesce meekly in a change which would drive -him back to his original insignificance, and restore Guy to his place of -supreme honour? Lady Sybil is no child, but a woman of full age. There -might (in a man's eyes) be an excuse in putting her aside for her son, -but there could be none for her sister or her daughter. - -It was not for some hours that I saw the Regent's letter; not till Lady -Sybil's bitter wailing had died down to peace, and we were able to turn -our eyes from the past to the future. Then Guy showed it me. I was -astonished at the quiet matter-of-fact way in which Count Raymond -recognised Lady Sybil's right, and deferred to Guy as the person to -decide upon every thing. I asked Lady Judith, this morning, what she -thought it meant. Was this man better than we had supposed? Had we -been unjust to him? - -"I cannot tell yet, Helena," she said; "but I think we shall know now -very soon. It either bodes great good to Sybil,--or else most serious -mischief." - -"He says no word about his Lady Countess," I suggested. - -"No," said Lady Judith. "I should have liked it better if he had done." - -"Then what can we do?" I asked. - -"Wait and pray," responded she. - -"Wait!" Oh dear me!--it is always waiting. I detest it. Why can't -things happen in a lump and get done with themselves? - -Count Raymond--for I must give over calling him the Regent,--(and dear -me! I must learn to call Lady Sybil the Queen as soon as she is -crowned,--however shall I do it?)--Count Raymond says, in the end of his -letter, that he will reach the Holy City, if it please the saints, about -ten days hence, with the coffin of the young Lord King, that he may be -laid with his fathers in the Church of the Holy Sepulchre. So, I -suppose, for these ten days we shall know nothing. I would scratch them -out of the calendar, if I had pumice-stone of the right quality. - -And yet--it comes over me, though I do hate to think it!--suppose these -ten days should be the last days of peace which we are to know! - -"Holy Mother, how _can_ you wait to know things?" I asked Lady Judith. - -"How canst thou?" said she with a little laugh. - -"Why, I must!" said I. "But as to doing it patiently!"---- - -"It is easier to wait patiently than impatiently, my child." - -"O holy Mother!" cried I. - -"It is," she gently persisted. "But that patience, Helena, is only to -be had from God." - -"But can you help longing to know?" said I. - -"Rebelliously and feverishly thirsting to know, I can. But it is only -in God's strength that I can do it. Certainly I cannot help feeling -that I shall be relieved when His time is come. I should be more or -less than woman, if I could." - -"But how," said I, "do you keep yourself patient?" - -"_He_ keeps me patient, Helena. I cannot keep myself. He knows: He is -at the helm: He will guide me to the haven where I would be. Ah, my -child, thou hast yet to learn what that meaneth,--'When He giveth -quietness, who shall then condemn?'" - -Indeed I have. And I do not know how to begin. - - -We have been very busy, after all, during the terrible interval, and it -hardly seems ten days since the news came. All the mourning robes were -to be made of sackcloth--bah! how rough and coarse it is!--one need be a -villein to stand it!--and the hoods of cloth of Cyprus. I never -remember being in mourning before Amaury's poor little baby was born and -died in one day, and I did hope then that I should never need it again. -It is so abominable to wear such stuff--and how it smells!--and to have -to lay aside one's gloves, just like a bourgeoise! Count Raymond is -expected to-night. - - -I did not properly guess what a dreadful scene it would be, when the -coffin was borne into the hall by four knights, and laid down on the -dais, and the lid opened, and the embalmed body of the fair child -brought to view, clad in the cowl of the holy brethren of Saint -Benedict, which was put on him just before he died. The holy -Patriarch--I suppose he is holy, being a patriarch--held the holy -censer, which he swung to and fro by the head of the coffin; and a royal -chaplain at his side bore the benitier, from which each of us, coming -forward, took the asperge, and sprinkled the still face with holy water. - -It was Lady Sybil's turn last, of course. But she, the poor mother, -broke down utterly, and dropped the asperge, and if Guy had not sprung -forward and caught her, I think she would have fainted and fallen on the -coffin of her child. Oh, it was terrible! - -Later in the evening, there was a family council, at which Count Raymond -suggested--and Guy said it was an excellent idea--that Lady Sybil should -convene a council of all the nobles, when her title should be solemnly -recognised, and no room be left for any dissension about it in future. -The council, therefore, will meet on Midsummer Day next, and at the same -time it will be decided what to do after the truce with Saladin has -expired. - -I tapped at Lady Judith's door as I went up to bed. - -"Well, holy Mother," said I, when I was inside, and the door shut, "what -think you now of the Count of Tripoli?" - -"What thinkest thou, Helena?" answered she. - -"Truly, I hardly know what to think," I said. "He speaks fair." - -"Ay," she said; "he speaks fair." - -I thought I detected the slightest possible emphasis on the verb. - -"I think you mean something, holy Mother," said I bluntly. - -"Helena, when the Lord Count was proposing the convention of the -council, and all that was to follow, and Count Guy assented, and said he -thought it a good idea,--didst thou happen to look at Count Raymond's -face?" - -"No, holy Mother, I did not." - -"I did. And at the instant when Count Guy assented to his proposal, I -caught one triumphant flash in his eyes. From that hour I was certain -he meant mischief." - -My heart fell,--fell. - -"What sort of mischief?" I asked fearfully. - -"The Lord knoweth," quietly said she; "and the Lord reigneth, Helena. -'Wonderful are the ragings of the sea: wonderful in the heights is the -Lord.'" - -And that seems to comfort her. I wish it would comfort me. - - -The Council is holding its sitting: and so serious are its deliberations -considered, that only one woman beside Lady Sybil herself is permitted -to attend it. Of course it was not meet she should be without any lady -or damsel. But she chose Lady Judith, with a pretty little apology to -me, lest I should fancy myself slighted. - -"Lady Judith is old and very wise," she said. "I should like her to -hear the deliberations of the nobles, that I may have, if need be, the -benefit of her counsel afterwards." - -I suppose it is the swearing of allegiance that takes such a long time. -They have been four hours already. - - -Sir God, have mercy upon me! I never dreamed of the anguish that was in -store for me. I do not know how to bear it. O fair Father, Jesu -Christ, by the memory of Thine own cross and passion, help me, if it be -only to live through it! - -I wondered why, when the Council broke up, Lady Sybil shut herself up -and refused to admit any one, and Guy was nowhere to be found. I felt a -vague sort of uneasiness, but no more, till a soft hand was laid upon my -shoulder, and I looked up in Lady Judith's face. - -And then, in an instant, the vague uneasiness changed to acute terror. - -Her look was one of such deep, overwhelming compassion, that I knew at -once she had that to tell me which she justly feared might break my -heart. - -"What--?" I gasped. - -"Come here with me," she said; and she took me into her own cell, and -barred the door. "Helena, dear child, there is something to tell thee -which thou wilt find very bitter, and thy brother and Sybil think best -that I should tell it." - -"Go on, if you please, holy Mother. Any thing but suspense!" - -"The Council of nobles," she said, "are agreed to admit Sybil's right, -and to pay their homage to her as Queen, if she on her part will accept -one condition dictated by them. But if she refuse the condition, they -refuse the allegiance; and will raise against her the banner of Isabel, -who was called into the Council, and declared herself ready to accept -it." - -"And--the condition?" - -"That she shall divorce Count Guy, and wed with one of themselves." - -It seemed to me as though my head went round, but my heart stood still. -And then a cry broke from me, which was a mixture of fear, and -indignation, and disdain, and cruel, cruel anguish. - -Sybil to divorce Guy! Our sweet-eyed, silver-voiced Sybil, whom we so -loved, to divorce my Guy, my king of men! To be willing to do it!--to -purchase her fair, proud inheritance at the price of the heart which -loved her, and which she loved! My heart and brain alike cried out, -Impossible! - -Was I dreaming? This thing could not be,--should not be! Holy Saints, -let me wake and know it! - -"It is not possible!" I shrieked. "She will not--she cannot! Did she -not say so?" - -"Her first words," said Lady Judith, "were utterly and indignantly to -refuse compliance." - -"Well!--and then?" - -"Then several of the nobles pressed it upon her, endeavouring to show -her the advantages to be derived from the divorce." - -"Advantages!" I cried. - -"To the country, dear," said Lady Judith gently. "But for four hours she -held out. No word was to be wrung from her but 'I could not dream of -such a thing!' 'Then, Lady,' said the Lord Count of Edessa, 'you can no -longer be our Queen.'" - -"And did that sway her?" I cried indignantly. - -"Nothing seemed to sway her, till Count Guy rose himself, and, though -with faltering lips, earnestly entreated her assent. Then she gave way -so far as to promise to consider the question." - -That was like Guy. If he thought it for her good, I am sure he would -urge it upon her, though it broke his own heart. But for her to give -way _then_----! - -"Holy Mother, tell me she will not do it!" I cried. - -"She has locked herself up, to think and pray," said Lady Judith. "But -it is well to know the worst at once,--I think she will, Helena." - -"Holy Mother, you must have gone mad!" - -I did not mean to be rude. I was only in too great agony to see any -thing but itself. And Lady Judith seemed to understand. - -"Who proposed it?" I demanded. - -Ah! I knew what the answer would be. "Count Raymond of Tripoli." - -"Well, he cannot be the one she weds!" said I, grinding my teeth. - -"He can, Helena. The Countess has been dead these four months. He says -he wrote to tell us, and his letter must have miscarried." - -"And is Satan to have it all his own way?" I cried. - -"No, assuredly, dear child. Christ is stronger than he." - -"Holy Mother, can you see one speck of light in this thick and horrible -darkness?" - -"I never see but one light in any darkness," she said. "'God is light, -and darkness in Him there is none at all.' Dear Helena, wilt thou not -put thine hand in His, and let Him lead thee to the light?" - -"Could the good God not have prevented all this?" I wailed. - -"Perhaps not, for thy sake," she said softly. - -"Oh, she will not, she will not!" I moaned. "Holy Mother, tell me she -never will!" - -"I cannot, dear. On the contrary, I think she will." - -"I never could have believed it of Lady Sybil!" - -Lady Judith made no reply; but I thought the expression of pain deepened -in her face. - -"Dear Helena," was her gentle answer, "sometimes we misunderstand our -friends. And very often we misunderstand our Father." - -She tried to comfort me: but I was past comfort. I was past food, -sleep,--every thing. I went to bed,--it was a miserable relief to get -away from the daylight; but I could not sleep, and no tears would come. -Only one exceeding bitter cry,-- - -"Help me, Jesu Christ!" - -Would He help me? What had I ever been to Him, or done for Him, that He -should? He had shed His life-blood on the holy rood for me; and I had -barely ever so much as thanked Him for it. I had never cared about Him. -Where was the good of asking Him? - -Yet I must cry to Him, for who else was there? Of course there were Mary -Mother and the holy saints: but--Oh, I hope it was not wicked!--it -seemed as if in my agony I pushed them all aside, and went straight up -to Him to whom all prayer must come at last. - -"Help me, Jesu Christ!" - -Where was Guy?--feeling, in his darkened chamber, as if his heart were -breaking? - -Where was Sybil?--awake, perhaps, with a lighted lamp, wrestling between -the one love of her heart and the pride of life. - -And where was God? Did He hear me? Would He hear? And the cry came -again, wrung from my very life as if I must have help. - -"Help me, Jesu Christ! I have no help. I can do nothing. I can even -think of nothing. I can bear no more. Help me, not because I deserve -help, but because I want Thee!" - -And the darkness went on, and the quiet beats of the water-clock, and -the low, musical cry of the watchmen outside; and the clang of arms as -they changed guard: but no holy angel came down from Heaven to tell me -that my prayer was heard, and that it should be to me even as I would. - -Was there no help?--was there no hope?--was there no God in Heaven? - -Oh, it cannot, cannot be that she will decide against him! Yet Lady -Judith thinks she will. I cannot imagine why. Our own sweet Sybil, to -whom he has seemed like the very life of her life! No, it can never be -true! She will never, never give him up. - - - - - *CHAPTER XIII.* - - _*WAITING FOR THE INEVITABLE*_*.* - - - "Oh, hard to watch the shore-lights, - And yet no signal make! - Hardest, to him the back on Love, - For Love's own blessed sake! - For me the darkness riseth, - But not for me the light; - I breast the waters' heaving foam - For love of Love, to-night." - - -She has given him up,--my Guy, my hero, my king of men! - -No, I could never have believed it! One short month ago, if all the -prophets and wise women and holy monks in Palestine had come in a body -and told me this thing, I should have laughed them to scorn,--I should -have thought the dead would rise first. - -Ah! this is not our Sybil who has played this part. The Sybil whom I -loved, next to Guy himself, has vanished into nothingness, and in her -stead has come a creature that wears her face, and speaks with her -voice,--cold, calculating, false! - -It was again Lady Judith who told me. I thought I was prepared for -this. But I found that I was not. By the crushing pain which struck me, -I knew that I had not really believed it would be thus,--that I had -clung, like a drowning man, to the rope which failed me in this -extremity--that I had honestly thought that the God to whom I had cried -all night long would have come and saved me. - -That Sybil should fail was bitterness enough. But what was I to do when -Christ failed me? Either He could not hear at all, or He would not hear -me. And I did not see that it was of much consequence which it was, -since, so far as I was concerned, both came to the same thing. - -The comfort Lady Judith tried to offer me sounded like cruel mockery. -Even the soft pressure of her hand upon my head rasped my heart like a -file. - -"Poor, dear child!" she said. "It is so hard to walk in the dark. If -the Lord have marked thee for His own--as by the strivings of His Spirit -with thee, I trust He has--how sorry He must be for thee, just now!" - -Sorry! Then why did He do it? When I am sorry for one I love, I do not -give him bitter pain. I felt as if I should sink and die, if I did not -get relief by pouring out my heart. I broke from Lady Judith,--she -tried in vain to stop me--and I dashed into Lady Sybil's chamber. Queen -or villein, it was all one to me then. I was far past any -considerations of that sort. If she had ordered me to be instantly -beheaded, I should not have thought it signified a straw. - -I found her seated on the settle in the window. Oh, how white and worn -and weary she looked! Dark rings were round her eyes, worn by pain and -weeping and watching through that dreadful night. But I heeded not the -signs of her woe. She deserved them. Guy's wrong burned in my heart, -and consumed every thing but itself. - -She rose hastily when she saw me, and a faint flush came to her white -cheek. - -"Ah,--Helena!" - -She spoke in a hesitating tone, as if she scarcely knew what to say. -She might well tremble before Guy's sister! - -What a strange thing it is, that when our hearts are specially wrung -with distress, our eyes seem opened to notice all sorts of insignificant -minutiae which we should never see at another time, or should never -remember if we did see them. I perceived that one of the buttons of -Lady Sybil's robe had caught her chatelaine, and that a bow of ribbon on -her super-tunic was coming loose. - -"May it please your Grace," I said--and I heard a hard metallic ring in -my own voice,--"have I heard the truth just now from Lady Judith?" - -"What hast thou heard, Helena?" - -I did not spare her for the crushing clasp of her hands, for the slight -quiver of the under lip. Let her suffer! Had she not wronged my Guy? - -"I have heard that your Grace means to give way before the vulgar -clamour of your inferiors, and to repudiate your wedded lord at their -dictation." - -No, I would not spare her so much as one adjective. She pressed her -lips close, and a sort of shudder went over her from head to foot. But -she said, in a calm, even voice, like a child repeating some formal -lesson-- - -"Thou hast heard the truth." - -If she would have warmed into anger, and have resented my words, I think -I might have kept more within bounds. But she was as cold as ice, and -it infuriated me. - -"And you call yourself a Christian and a Catholic?" cried I, raising my -voice. - -"The Lord knoweth!" was her cool answer. - -"The Lord look upon it, and avenge us!" I cried. "Do you know how I -loved you? Next to my love for Guy himself,--better than I loved any -other, save you two, in earth or Heaven! You!--was it you I loved? My -sister Sybil loved Guy, and would have died rather than sacrifice him to -a mob of parvenu nobles. She is gone, and you are come in her stead, -the saints know how! You are not the Sybil whom I loved, but a -stranger,--a cold, calculating, politic, false-hearted woman. Heartless, -ungenerous, faithless, false! I sweep you out of my heart this day, as -if you had never entered it. You are false to Guy, and false to God. I -will never, never, never forgive you! From this hour you are no more to -me than the meanest Paynim idolatress whom I would think scorn to -touch!" - -I do not know whence my words came, but they poured out of me like the -rain in a tempest. I noted, without one spark of relenting, the shudder -which shook her again from head to foot when I named Guy,--the trembling -of lips and eyes,--the pitiful, appealing look. No, I would not spare -one atom of misery to the woman who had broken my Guy's heart. - -Perhaps I was half mad. I do not know. - -When I stopped, at last, she only said-- - -"It must look so to thee. But trust me, Helena." - -"Trust you, Lady Sybil!--how to trust you?" I cried. "Have I not -trusted you these four years, before I knew you for what you are? And -you say, 'Trust me!'--Hear her, holy Saints! Ay, when I have done -trusting the scorpions of this land and the wolves of my own,--trust me, -I will trust you!" - -She rose, and came to me, holding out both hands, with a look of piteous -appeal in those fair grey eyes that I used to love so much. - -"I know," she said,--"I know. Thou must think so. Yet,--trust me, -Helena!" - -I broke from her, and fled. I felt as if I could not bear to touch -her,--to look at her another moment. To my own chamber I ran, and -casting myself on the bed, I buried my face in the pillow, and lay there -motionless. I did not weep; my eyes were dry and hard as stones. I did -not pray; there was no good in it. Without God, without hope, without -any thing but crushing agony and a sense of cruel wrong,--I think in -that hour I was as near Hell as I could be, and live. - -It was thus that Marguerite found me. - -I heard her enter the room. I heard the half-exclamation, instantly -checked, which came to her lips. I heard her move quietly about the -chamber, arranging various little things, and at last come and stand -beside my bed. - -"Damoiselle!" - -I turned just enough to let her see my face. - -"Is Satan tempting my Damoiselle very hard just now?" - -What made her ask that question? - -"No, Margot," I said, sitting up, and pushing the hair off my forehead. -"God is very, very cruel to me." - -"Ah, let my Damoiselle hush there!" cried the old woman, in a tone of -positive pain. "No, no, never! She does not mean to cut her old nurse -to the heart, who loves her so dearly. But she will do it, if she says -such things of the gracious Lord." - -"Now, Margot, listen to me. I thought something was going to happen -which would wring my heart to its very core. All night long I lay -awake, praying and crying to God to stay it. And He has not heard me. -He has let it happen--knowing what it would be to me. And dost thou not -call that cruel?" - -"Ah, I guessed right. Satan is tempting my Damoiselle, very, very hard. -I thought so from her face.--Damoiselle, the good Lord cannot be cruel: -it is not in His nature. No, no!" - -"Dost thou know what has happened, Margot?" - -"I? Ha!--no." - -"The Lady Sybil, incited by her nobles, has consented to divorce Count -Guy, and wed with another." - -I saw astonishment, grief, indignation, chase one another over old -Marguerite's face, followed by a look of extreme perplexity. For a few -moments she stood thus, and did not speak. Then she put her hands -together, like a child at prayer, and lifted her eyes upward. - -"Sir God," she said, "I cannot understand it. I do not at all see why -this is. Good Lord, it puzzles poor old Marguerite very much. But Thou -knowest. Thou knowest all things. And Thou canst not be hard, nor -cruel, whatever things may look like. Thou art love. Have patience -with us, Sir God, when we are puzzled, and when it looks to us as if -things were going all wrong. And teach the child, for she does not -know. My poor lamb is quite lost in the wilderness, and the great wolf -is very near her. Gentle Jesu Christ, leave the ninety and nine safe -locked in the good fold, and come and look for this little lamb. If -Thou dost not come, the great wolf will get her. And she is Thy little -lamb. It is very cold in the wilderness, and very dark. Oh, do make -haste!" - -"Thou seemest to think that God Almighty is sure to hear thee, Margot," -said I wearily. - -Yet I could not help feeling touched by that simple prayer for me. - -"Hear me?" she said. "Ah no, my Damoiselle, I cannot expect God -Almighty to hear me. But He will hear the blessed Christ. He always -hears Him. And He will ask for me what I really need, which is far -better than hearing me. Because, my Damoiselle sees, I make so many -blunders; but He makes none." - -"What blunders didst thou make just now, Margot?" - -"Ha! Do I know, I? When He translated it into the holy language of -Heaven, the blessed Christ would put them all right. Maybe, where I -said, 'Be quick,' He would say, 'Be slow.'" - -"I am sure that would be a blunder!" said I bitterly. - -"Ha! Does it not seem so, to my Damoiselle and her servant? But the -good God knows. If my Damoiselle would only trust Him!" - -"'Trust'!" cried I, thinking of Sybil. "Ah, Margot, I have had enough -of trusting. I feel as if I could never trust man again--nor woman." - -"Only one Man," said Marguerite softly. "And He died for us." - -After saying that, she went away and left me. I lay still, her last -words making a kind of refrain in my head, mingling with the one thought -that seemed to fill every corner. - -"He died for us!" Surely, then, He cannot hate us. He is not trying to -give us as much suffering as we can bear? - -I rose at last, and went to seek Guy. But I had to search the house -almost through for him. I found him at length, in the base court, -gazing through one of the narrow windows through which the archers -shoot. The moment I saw his face, I perceived that though we might be -one in sorrow we were emphatically two in our respective ways of bearing -it. The quiet, patient grief in that faraway look which I saw in his -eyes, was dictated by a very different spirit from that which actuated -me. And he found it, too. - -Not a word would he hear against Sybil. He nearly maddened me by calmly -assuming that her sufferings were beyond ours, and entreating me not to -let any words of mine add to her burden. It was so like Guy--always -himself last! And when I said passionately that God was cruel, -cruel!--he hushed me with the only flash of the old impetuosity that I -saw in him. - -"No, Elaine, no! Let me never hear that again." - -I was silent, but the raging of the sea went on within. - -"I think," said Guy quietly, "that it is either in a great sorrow or a -serious illness that a man really sees himself as he is, if it please -God to give him leave. I have thought, until to-day, in a vague way, -that I loved God. I begin to wonder this morning whether I ever did at -all." - -His words struck cold on me. Guy no true Christian!--my brave, -generous, noble, unselfish Guy! Then what was I likely to be? - -"Guy," I said,--"_will_ she?" I could bear the torture no longer. And -I knew he would need no more. - -"I think so, Elaine," was his quiet answer. "I hope so." - -"'_Hope_ so'!" - -"It is her only chance for the kingdom. The nobles are quite right, -dear. I am a foreigner; I am an adventurer; I am not a scion of any -royal house. It would very much consolidate her position to get rid of -me." - -"And canst thou speak so calmly? I want to curse them all round, if I -cannot consume them!" - -"I am past that, Elaine," said Guy in a low voice, not quite so firmly -as before. "Once, I did---- May the good Lord pardon me! His thunders -are not for mortal hands. And I am thankful that it is so." - -"I suppose nobody is wicked, except me," I said bitterly. "Every body -else seems to be so terribly resigned, and so shockingly good, and so -every thing else that he ought to be: and--I will go, if thou hast no -objection, Guy. I shall be saying something naughty, if I don't." - -Guy put his arm round me, and kissed my forehead. - -"My poor little Lynette!" he said. "We can go home to Poitou, dear, and -be once more all in all to each other, as we used to be long ago. -Monseigneur will be glad to see us." - -But I could not stand that. Partly Guy's dreadful calm, and partly that -allusion to the long ago when we were so much to each other, broke me -down, and laying my head down upon Guy's arm, I burst into a passionate -flood of tears. - -Oh, what good they did me! I could scarcely have believed how much -quieted and lightened I should feel for them. Though there was no real -change, yet the most distressing part of the weight seemed gone. I -actually caught myself fancying what Monseigneur would say to us when we -came home. - -Guy said he would go with me to my chamber. I was glad that we met no -one below. But as we entered the corridor at the head of the stairs, -little Agnes came running to us, holding up for admiration a string of -small blue beads. - -"See, Baba!--See, Tan'!--Good!" - -These are her names for Guy and me. Every thing satisfactory is "good" -with Agnes--it is her expressive word, which includes beautiful, -amiable, precious, and all other varieties. I felt as if my heart were -too sore to notice her, and I saw a spasm of pain cross Guy's face. But -he lifted the child in his arms, kissed her, and admired her treasure to -her baby heart's content. If I were but half as selfless as he! - -"And who gave thee this, little one?" - -"Amma. Good!" - -It was the child's name for her mother. Ah, little Agnes, I cannot -agree with thee! "Amma" and "good" must no longer go into one sentence. -How could she play, to-day, with Guy's children? - -Yet I suppose children must be fed, and cared for, and trained, and -amused,--even though their elders' hearts are breaking. - -Oh, if I might lie down somewhere, and sleep, and awake eighteen years -ago, when I was a little sorrowless child like Agnes! - - -The coronation is fixed for Holy Cross Day. And Lady Sybil has -undertaken, as soon as she is crowned, to select her future husband. -One condition she has insisted on herself. Every noble, on the -coronation day, is to take a solemn oath that he will be satisfied with -and abide by her decision, and will serve the King of her choice for -ever. This seems to me a very wise and politic move, as it will prevent -any future disputes. Every body appears to have no doubt on whom her -choice will fall. All expect the Count of Tripoli. - -Guy has requested permission to retire to Ascalon; and she has accorded -it, but with the express stipulation that he is to be in his place, with -the rest of her peers, at the coronation. It does seem to me a piece of -needless cruelty. Surely she might have spared him this! - -I also have asked permission to retire from Court. Of course I go with -Guy. Whoever forsakes him, the little sister shall be true. - -For about the first time in my life, I am thoroughly pleased with -Amaury. He is nearly as angry as I am--which is saying a great deal. -And he is the only person in whose presence I dare relieve my feelings -by saying what I think of Sybil, for Guy will not hear a word. - -Eschine has the most extraordinary idea. She thinks that Sybil's heart -is true, and that only her head is wrong. It is all nonsense! Heart -and head go together. - - -The worst item of the agony is over--the divorce. - -The ceremony was short enough. A speech--from Count Raymond--stating to -the public the necessities of the case; a declaration from both parties -that they acted of their own free will; a solemn sentence from the holy -Patriarch:--and all was over, and Guy and Sybil were both free to wed -again. - -I did think Sybil would have fainted before she could get through the -few words she had to speak. But Guy was as calm and quiet as if he were -making some knightly speech. I cannot understand him. It seems so -unnatural for Guy. - -I expressed some surprise afterwards. - -"O Lynette! how could I make it harder for her!" - -That was his answer. It was all for her. He seems to think himself not -worth considering. - - -We leave for Ascalon very early to-morrow; and as this was my last -night, I went to Lady Judith's cell to say farewell to her. On my way I -met Count Raymond, returning from an audience of Lady Sybil, with -triumph flashing in his eyes as he met mine. He evidently agrees with -the multitude that he has a good chance of the crown. My heart swelled -against him, but I managed to return his bow with courtesy, and passing -on, tapped at Lady Judith's door. - -"Helena, dear child!--Come in," she said. - -"I am come to bid you good-bye, holy Mother." - -Lady Judith silently motioned me to a seat on her bed, and sat down -beside me. - -"Is it quite as dark, my child?" - -"Yes, quite!" I said, sighing. - -"Poor child! I would give much to be able to comfort thee. But, please -God, thou wilt be comforted one day." - -"The day seems a long way off, holy Mother." - -"It seemed a long way off, dear, to the holy Jacob, the very day before -the waggons arrived to carry him down to his son Joseph. Yet it was -very near, Helena." - -I listened with respect, of course: but I could not see what that had to -do with me. The waggons were not coming for me--that one thing was -certain. - -"Wilt thou be here for the coronation, my child?" - -"I shall be where Guy is," I said shortly. "But--O holy Mother, she -might have spared him that!" - -Lady Judith's look was very pitiful. Yet she said-- - -"Perhaps not, my child." - -Why, of course she might, if she would. What was to hinder her? But I -did not say so, for it would have been discourteous. - -Even between me and my dear old Lady Judith there seemed a miserable -constraint. Was it any marvel? I rose to go. Almost noiselessly the -door opened, and before I could exclaim or escape, Sybil stood before -me. - -"And wert thou going without any farewell--me,--little sister, Helena?" - -I stood up, frozen into stone. - -"I ask your Grace's pardon. We are not sisters _now_." - -She turned aside, and covered her face with her hands. - -"O Lynette! thou makest it so hard, so hard!" - -"So hard?" said I coldly. "I hope I do. If your heart had not been -harder than the nether millstone, Lady Sybil, you would never, never -have required our presence at your coronation. God give you what you -deserve!" - -"That is a terrible prayer, in general," she said, turning and meeting -my eyes. "And yet, Lynette, in this one thing, I dare to echo it. Ay, -God render unto me what I deserve!" - -How could she? Oh, how could she? - -Lady Judith kissed me, and I went away. I believe Sybil would have -kissed me too, but I would not have it from her. - -It was easy, after that, to say farewell to the rest. - -"I wish I were going too!" growled Amaury. - -Then why does he not? He might if he chose. Just like Amaury! - -"Farewell, dear," said Eschine. "I shall miss thee, Elaine." - ---And nobody else. Yes, I know that. - -So we go forth. Driven out of our Paradise, like Adam and Eva. But the -flaming sword is held by no angel of God. - -I always thought it such a dreadful thing, that our first parents should -be driven out of Paradise. Why could not God have let them stay? It -was not as if He had wanted it for the angels. If He had meant to use -it for any thing, it would be on the earth now. - -I cannot understand! Oh, why, why, _why_ are all these terrible things? - -"I cannot understand either," says old Marguerite. "But I can trust the -good God, and I can wait till He tells me. I am happier than my -Damoiselle,--always wanting to know." - -Well, I see that I marvel if there is any maiden upon earth much more -miserable than I am. Last night, only, I caught myself -wishing--honestly wishing--that I could change with Marguerite, old and -poor as she is. It must be such a comfort to think of God as she does. -It seems to answer for every thing. - - -The sultry quiet here is something almost unendurable to me. There is -nothing in the world to see or hear but the water-carriers crying "The -gift of God!" and strings of camels passing through the gateway, and -women washing or grinding corn in the courts. And there is nothing to -do but wait and bear, and prepare, after a rather sluggish fashion, for -our return home when the coronation is over. Here, again, old -Marguerite is better off than I am, for she has constantly things which -she must do. - -I do not think it likely that Amaury will come with us. Things never -take hold of him long. If he be furiously exasperated on Monday, he is -calmly disgusted on Tuesday, supremely content on Wednesday, and by -Thursday has forgotten that he was ever otherwise. And he seems -disposed to make his home here. - -To me, it looks as though my life divided itself naturally into two -portions, and the four years I have passed here were the larger half of -it. I seem to have been a woman only since I came here. - -Three months to wait!--and all the time we are waiting for a dreadful -ordeal, which we know must come. Why does Lady Sybil give us this -suffering? And far more, why, why does the good God give it to us? - -If I could only understand, I could bear it better. - -"Ha!" says Marguerite, with a rather pitying smile. "If my Damoiselle -could but know every thing, she would be content not to know more!" - -Well! I suppose I am unreasonable. Yet it will be such a relief when -the worst is over. But how can I wish the worst to come? - - - - - *CHAPTER XIV.* - - _*SYBIL'S CHOICE*_*.* - - - "'Gifts!' cried the friend. He took: and, holding it - High towards the heavens, as though to meet his star, - Exclaimed,--'This, too, I owe to thee, Giafar!'" - LEIGH HUNT. - - -It came at last--neither sooner for my dreading it, nor later for my -wishing it--Holy Cross Day, the coronation morning. - -Guy and I reached the Holy City the night before, and took up our -quarters with the holy Patriarch and his Lady Irene. We were just -opposite the Palace. We could see lights flashing through the -loop-holes, and now and then a shadow pass behind them. It was hard to -know that that house held all that we loved, and we were the only ones -that dared not enter it. - -The Patriarch was most disagreeably loquacious. He told us every thing. -He might have been cooking the banquet and broidering the robes, for all -the minute details he seemed to know. The Queen, he told us, was to be -arrayed in golden baudekyn, and the Lady Isabel in rose and silver. Both -the Princesses would be present, attired in gold and blue. Poor little -Agnes and Helena! How little they would understand of their mother's -actions! - -As little, perhaps, as any of us could understand of God's dealings in -this matter! - -The officers of state were to surround the throne, which was to be -placed on the highest step of the choir; the nobles of the Council were -to stand, in order according to the date of their creation, round the -nave below. - -Lady Irene was as silent as her lord was talkative. But at night, when -she brought me up to the chamber she had prepared for me, she told me -the one thing I did care to know. A place had been specially reserved -for me, in the nave, immediately behind Guy; and the Lady Irene's own -place was next to me. - -"I am obliged to the Master of the Ceremonies," said I: for that was -just where I wished to be. - -"Nay," quietly said Lady Irene, as she took up her lamp; "the Damoiselle -is obliged to the Lady Sybil." - -Had Sybil thought of my fancy? What a strange compound she -was!--attending to one's insignificant likings, yet crushing one's very -heart to dust! - -I did not sleep till very late, and I was aroused in the early morning -by a flourish of trumpets, announcing that the grand day had dawned. I -dressed myself, putting off my mourning for a suit of leaf-green -baudekyn, for I knew that Guy would not be pleased if I wore any thing -sombre, though it would have suited my feelings well enough. A golden -under-tunic and kerchief, with my best coronet, were the remainder of my -attire. I found Guy himself flashing in golden armour,[#] and wearing -his beautiful embroidered surcoat, which Sybil herself wrought for him, -with the arms of Lusignan. - - -[#] This phrase was used of steel armour ornamented with gold. - - -How could she bear to see that existing token of her own dead love? The -surcoat had worn better than the heart. - -We took our appointed places--Lady Irene, Guy, and I,--and watched the -nobles arrive,--now an odd one, now half-a-dozen together. The -Patriarch of course left us, as he was to officiate. - -He told us last night that eighty out of every hundred felt no doubt at -all that the Count of Tripoli would be the future King. (That Patriarch -is the queerest mortal. It never seemed to enter his head that such -information would not be highly entertaining to Guy and me.) - -Now was the time to discern our enemies from our friends. Those who did -notice us risked Court favour. But Messire de Montluc came all the way -from the choir to salute us; and I felt a throb of gratitude to him in -my heart. The Count of Edessa was not able to see us, and Count -Raymond--O serpent, demon that he is!--looked straight at us, as if he -had never met us before. - -It was an additional pang, that the order of precedence placed Count -Raymond the very next to Guy. I sincerely wished him at the other end -of the nave, though it would have placed him close to the throne. - -And now the important persons began to arrive. Lady Judith, in the quiet -brown habit of her Order, stopped and scanned the groups all round, till -her eyes reached us, and then she gave us a full smile, so rich in love -and peace, that my heart throbbed with sympathy, and yet ached with -envy. - -Then came a lovely vision of rich rose and gleaming silver, which did -_not_ look for us, and I felt that was Lady Isabel. And then two sweet -little fairy forms in blue and gold, and I saw Guy crush his under-lip -as his eyes fell upon his children. - -Last came the Queen that was to be--a glorious ray of gold, four pages -bearing her train, and her long fair hair, no less golden than her -robes, streaming down them to her feet. She took her seat by Lady -Isabel, on the velvet settle near the throne. - -Then the Patriarch came forward into the midst of the church, to a -faldstool set there: and announced in loud tones, that all the nobles of -the Council of Sybil, shortly to be crowned Queen of Jerusalem, should -come forward in rotation to the faldstool, and swear between his -hands[#] to bear true and faithful allegiance, as to his King, to that -one of them all whom it should please her to choose for her lord. - - -[#] Homage was always performed in this manner, the joined hands of the -inferior, or oath-taker, being held between the hands of the superior -lord, or person who administered the oath. - - -One by one, they came forward: but I saw only two. Count Raymond knelt -down with an air of triumphant command, as though he felt himself King -already: Guy with an aspect of the most perfect quietness, as if he were -thinking how he could spare Sybil. - -When all the nobles were sworn, the Patriarch went back to the choir, -and Sybil, rising, came and stood just before the throne. The -coronation ceremony followed, but I was not sufficiently at ease to -enter into it. There were prayers in sonorous Greek, and incense, and -the holy mass, and I cannot properly tell what else. The last item was -the actual setting of the crown--the crown of all the world--on the head -of Sybil of Anjou. - -And then came a gentle rush of intense expectation, as Sybil lifted the -crown royal from her head, and prepared to descend the steps of the -throne. - -Her choice was to be made now. - -Down the damask carpeting of the nave she came, very, very slowly: -carrying the crown in both hands, the holy Patriarch following and -swinging the holy censer behind her. Her eyes were cast down. It was -evident that she knew perfectly well where he stood who was to wear that -crown. - -Slowly, slowly, all along the nave. Past one eligible noble after -another, face after face gathering blankness as she went. At last she -turned, ever so little, to the right. - -I could bear no more. I covered my face with my mantle. Let who would -gaze on me--let who would sneer! She was coming--no doubt any longer -now--straight towards Count Raymond of Tripoli. - -And never--with the faint flush in her cheeks, and the sweet, downcast -eyes--had I seen her look so beautiful. And all at once, athwart my -anger, my indignation, my sense of bitter wrong, came one fervent gush -of that old, deep love, which had been mine for Sybil: and I felt as -though I could have laid down my life that hour to save, not Guy, but -her, from the dreadful consequences of her own folly,--from that man who -had crushed Guy's heart as he might have crushed a moth. - -Then came a dead hush, in which a butterfly's wing might almost have -been heard to beat. Then, a low murmur, half assent, half dissent. -Then, suddenly bursting forth, a cheer that went pealing to the roof, -and died away in reverberations along the triforium. The choice was -made. - -And then--I had not dared to look up--I heard Sybil's voice. She was -close, close beside me. - -"Sir Guy de Lusignan," she said, "I choose thee as my lord, and as Lord -of the land of Jerusalem; for--" and a slight quiver came into the -triumphant, ringing voice--"whom God hath joined together, let not man -put asunder!" - -Then I looked up, and saw on my Guy's head the crown of the world, and -in Sybil's dear eyes the tender, passionate love-light which she had -locked out of them for months for love's own sake, and I knew her at -last for the queen of women that she is. - -And then----I heard somebody speak my name, and felt Lady Irene's arms -close round me, and darkness came upon me, and I knew no more. - - -When I came to myself, I was lying in my own old chamber in the Palace, -and beside me were old Marguerite fanning me with a handkerchief, and -Lady Judith bending over me. - -"Helena, darling,--all is well!" she said. - -"Is all well?" I said, sadly, when I could speak. "It is well with Guy, -and therefore all else matters little. But I wonder if I shall ever be -forgiven?" - -"By whom?" asked Lady Judith. - -"God and Sybil," I answered in a low voice. - -"Ask them both," she said softly. "Sybil is coming to thee, as soon as -ever the banquet is over. And there is no need to wait to ask God." - -"Did you guess, holy Mother, how it would end?" - -"No, Helena," she answered with a smile. "I knew." - -"All along?" - -"Yes, from the first." - -I lay still and thought. - -"Dost thou marvel why I did not tell thee, dear, and perhaps think it -cruel? Ask Sybil why she made me her sole confidante. I think thou -wilt be satisfied when thou hast heard her reason. But though I did not -guess Sybil's purpose,--" and she turned with a smile to -Marguerite,--"here, I fancy, is one who did." - -"Ay, very soon," said Margot quietly: "but not quite at first, Lady." - -"Thou wicked old Marguerite!" cried I. "And never to tell me!" - -"Suppose I had been mistaken," she replied. "Would my Damoiselle have -thanked me for telling her then?" - -I felt quite sufficiently restored to go down to the bower, though not -able to bear the banquet. So Lady Judith and I went down. She told me -all that had taken place after I fainted: how Messire de Montluc and -Lady Irene had taken care of me; that the Patriarch had immediately -bestowed the nuptial benediction upon Sybil and Guy, and had then -anointed the King--(the King!)--that the Knights Templars had escorted -the King and Queen to the banquet; and that after the banquet, homage -was to be done by all the nobles. Guy and Sybil, therefore, were likely -to be detained late. - -Suddenly something climbed up on the settle, and I felt myself seized -round the neck, and tumultuously caressed. - -"Tantine! Tantine!--Come--good! Baba and Tantine--_both_ come. -Good!--Oh, good!" - -Of course I knew who that was, and alternated between returning the warm -kisses, and entreating Agnes not to murder me by suffocation. - -Then came a much calmer kiss on my brow, and I looked up at Eschine. - -And then strolled in Messire Amaury, with his hands in the pockets of -his haut-de chausses, talking to Messire de Montluc. - -"But the strangest thing, you know"--that sagacious youth was -observing--"the strangest thing--O Elaine, is that thee!--the strangest -thing is that a mere simple, ignorant woman could have formed and -carried out such a project. Surely some man must have given her the -idea! I can hardly--Oh, _pure foy_!" - -The last exclamation was due to a smart and sudden application of my -right hand to the left ear of my respected brother. Messire de Montluc -was convulsed with laughter. - -"Well done, Damoiselle Elaine! You regard the honour of your sex." - -"The next time thou speakest contemptuously of women," said I, "look -first whether any overhear thee." - -"Trust me, I will make sure of my sister Elaine," said Amaury, still -rubbing his ear. "On my word, Lynette, thou art a spitfire!" - -One after another kept coming, and all expressing pleasure in seeing me. -I could not help wondering whether all of them would have been quite so -pleased to see Elaine de Lusignan, if she had not been the King's -sister. Lady Judith and Eschine would, I believed. Nor do I think it -would have made the least difference to Agnes. Considerations of that -kind do not begin to affect us till we are over three years old. - -But time wore on, and Sybil was not released from her regal duties; and -the strain which both body and mind had had to sustain told upon me, and -I began to feel very tired. Lady Judith noticed it. - -"Dear Helena," she said, "do put that white face to bed. Sybil will -come to thee." - -"I have no right to ask it of her," I said huskily. - -"Dost thou think she will wait till thou hast?" - -I was beginning to remonstrate that it would not be respectful, when -Lady Judith put her arm round me, and said laughingly--"Sir Amaury, help -me to carry this wilful child to bed." - -"Fair Mother, I dare not for all the gold in Palestine," said my -slanderous brother. "My ear has not done stinging yet." - -"Am I wilful?" said I. "Well, then I will do as I am told.--As to thee, -Amaury, thou hast just thy desert." - -"Then I am a very ill-deserving man," responded he. - -Lady Judith and Eschine both came with me to my chamber, and the latter -helped me to undress. I had but just doffed my super-tunic, however, -when a slight sound made me turn round towards the door, and I saw -Sybil,--Sybil, still in her coronation robes, coming towards me with -both hands held out, as she had done that last sad time we met. I threw -myself on the ground before her, and tried to kiss the hem of her golden -robe. But she would not let me. - -"No, no, my darling, no!" - -And she stooped and drew me into her arms, and kissed me as if we had -never disagreed,--as if I had never uttered one of those bitter words -which it now made my cheeks burn even to remember. - -I could only sob out,--"Forgive me!" - -"Dear little sister, forgive thee for loving Guy?" - -"No, no!" I said, "but for not loving--for misunderstanding, and -slandering, and tormenting thee!" - -"Nay, dearest Helena!" she said, at once tenderly and playfully,--"Thou -didst not slander me. It was that other Sybil with whom thou wert so -angry,--the Sybil who was not true to her lord, and was about to forsake -him. And I am sure she deserved every word. But that was not I, -Helena." - -"But how my words must have tortured thee!" - -"Not in one light, dear. It was a rich ray of hope and comfort, to -know, through all my pain, how true the dear little sister was to -Guy,--what a comfort she was likely to be to him,--that whoever forsook -him, his Lynette would never do it. Now finish thine undressing. There -is one other thing I want to say to thee, but let me see thee lying at -rest first." - -She sat down on the settle, just as she was, while Bertrade finished -undressing me. Then they all said "Good night," and left me alone with -Sybil. - -"Helena, darling!" she said, as she sat beside me, my hand clasped in -hers,--"this one thing I wish thee to know. I could not spare thee this -pain. If the faintest idea of my project had ever occurred to Count -Raymond,--though it had been but the shadow of a shade,--it would have -been fatal. Had he guessed it, I could never have carried it out.[#] -And he has eyes like a lynx, and ears like a hare. And, little -sister,--thy face talks! Thou couldst not, try as thou wouldst, have -kept that knowledge out of thine eyes. And the Count would have read it -there, with as little trouble as thou wouldst see a picture. The only -chance, therefore, to preserve my crown for my lord, and him for me, was -to leave him and thee in ignorance. Trust me, it cost me more than it -did you!" - - -[#] The extraordinary item of this series of incidents (which are -historical) is, that Count Raymond did not guess it. - - -Ah! had she not said that once before,--"Trust me!" And I had not -trusted her. Yet how well she deserved it! - -I hardly know what I sobbed out. I only know that I was fully and -undeservedly forgiven, that I was loved through all my mistrust and -unworthiness and cruel anger,--and that Sybil knew how I loved her. - -Then she left me to rest. - -But as I lay there in the darkness, a thought came to me, which seemed -to light up the dark wilderness of my life,--as though a lamp had been -suddenly flashed into a hidden chamber. - -What if it be just so with God? - -And it seemed to me as if He stood there, at the summit of that ladder -which Monseigneur Saint Jacob was permitted to behold: and He looked -down on me, with a look tenderer and sweeter even than Sybil's; and He -held forth His hands to me, as she had done, but in these there were the -prints of the cruel nails,--and He said-- - -"Elaine, I could not spare thee this pain. If I had done, in the end it -would have been worse for thee. Look upon My hands and My feet, and see -if I spared Myself, and, remembering that this was for thy sake, say -whether, if it had been possible, I would not have spared thee!" - -I cannot tell whether I was dreaming or awake. But I crept to the foot -of the ladder, and I said to Him who stood above it-- - -"Fair Father, Jesu Christ, I put myself in Thy mercy.[#] I see now that -I was foolish and ignorant. It was not that Thou wert cruel. It was not -that Thou didst not care. Thou dost care. At every pang that rent my -heart, Thine heart was touched too. Forgive me, for Sybil has done, and -I have sinned more against Thee than against her. Teach me in future to -give up my will, and to wish only to do Thine." - - -[#] A rebel, who returned to his allegiance unconditionally, was said to -"put himself in the King's mercy." - - -I am afraid it was a very poor prayer. There was no Angelus nor -Confiteor--not even an Ave in it. Yet was it all a dream, that a voice -said to me, "Thy sins are forgiven thee: go in peace"? And I sank into -dreamless sleep the next instant. - - -It is all settled now. Next week, I shall be professed of Lady Judith's -Order,--an Order which will just suit my wants, since the nuns have no -abbess over them, are bound only by terminable vows, and (with assent of -the community) may dwell where they think fit, even in their own homes -if need be. - -Lady Judith thinks that she can easily obtain leave for me to dwell with -Monseigneur, as she will kindly represent it to the Order that he is now -an old man, and has no wife nor unmarried daughter to care for him but -me. - -I think he is my first duty now. And I know he will be so glad, so -glad! - -It will be hard to part with Guy and Sybil. But I think that is where -the Lord is leading me,--home to Lusignan; and I do wish to follow His -leading, not my own. - -Old Marguerite startled me very much last night. - -"Damoiselle," she said, "the cross is shining out at last." - -"Where, Margot?" said I, rather puzzled. - -"Where I have so longed to see it," she said, "on my darling's brow. -Ah, the good God has not brought her through the fire for nothing! -Where there used to be pride and mirth in her eyes, there is peace. He -will let His old servant depart now, for it was all she had to live -for." - -But I can never, never do without her! Oh, I do hope the good God will -not take dear old Marguerite. Why, I am only just beginning to -understand and value her. But I think I am learning, very slowly,--Oh, -I am so slow and stupid!--that real happiness lies not in having my way, -but in being satisfied with His,--not in trying to make myself happy, -but in trying to please Him. I am constantly fancying that I have so -learned this lesson that I shall never forget it again. And then, -within an hour, I find myself acting as though I had never heard of it. - -And I see, too, what I never understood before.--that it is only by -taking our Lord's yoke upon us, and becoming meek and lowly in heart, -that we can find rest to our souls. Eschine's deep humility is the -source of her calm endurance. Pride is not peace; it is its antidote. -In Christ we have peace,--first through the purchase of His blood, and -secondly, in growing like Him, which is, to grow in love and lowliness, -and to lose ourselves in Him. - -I think I never before saw the loveliness of humility. And I am sure I -never saw the fair beauty of Eschine's character and life. Oh, how far -she rises above me! And to think that I once looked down upon -her--dismissed her with a careless word of scorn, as having "nothing in -her"--when the truth was that I was too low down to see her in reality. - -Oh, how much the good God has had, and will have, to forgive and bear -with me! - -I am now only just beginning to understand Him. But that is a lesson -which I may go on learning and enjoying for ever. And how happy it will -be, if we all gather together in His halls above,--Guy, and Sybil, and -me, and old Marguerite, and Lady Judith, and Monseigneur, and Eschine, -and the little children, and all,--never again to hear Paynim cry nor -woman's wail,--safe for ever, in the banquet-hall of God. - -At home again at last! - -How strangely glad they all seem to see me! I do not think I ever knew -how they all loved me. I have lived for myself, and a little for Guy. -Now, with His grace, I fain would live for God, and in Him for every -one. - -We sat round the centre fire last night in the old hall,--I close to -Monseigneur, with his hand upon my shoulder, now and then removed to -stroke my hair--and we had all so much to say that it made us very -silent. It was Alix who spoke first. - -"Elaine," she said, "I want to give a name to my baby girl that shall -mean 'truth' or 'fidelity.' And I do not like any of the French names -that have those meanings; they are not pretty. Tell me the words for -them in the tongue of the Holy Land." - -I did not answer that the Court language of Jerusalem was the Langue -d'Oc, and that Alix would be no better off for knowing. A rush of -feeling came over me, and I let it dictate my reply. And that was -only-- - - - *"Sybil."* - - - - - *HISTORICAL APPENDIX.* - - - *I. GUY DE LUSIGNAN* - - -The history of Guy and Sybil, after the story leaves them, is a sad one. -Raymond Count of Tripoli, who had fancied himself sure of the crown -matrimonial, never forgave either. He immediately entered into a secret -alliance with Saladin, by which he promised to betray Guy into his hands -in the next battle. On the fourth of July, 1187, Tripoli, who was -standard-bearer, so behaved himself in battle that the King was taken -prisoner. Sybil, in conjunction with the Patriarch Heraclius, held -Jerusalem until the second of October, when she gave up the city to -Saladin on terms including liberty of ransom to all who could afford it. -The Queen now retired to Ascalon, within whose fortified walls she and -her little daughters remained until 1189, when Guy's ransom was effected -on the hard terms that Sybil should capitulate at Ascalon, that Guy -should abdicate, and that he should go beyond sea. Guy, who had been -kept in chains a whole year at Damascus, consulted the clergy as to the -necessity of keeping faith with Saladin. They were all of the Roman, -but unscriptural opinion, that no faith need be kept with a Paynim. -Instead of abdicating and going abroad, Guy, with Sybil and the -children, marched to Acre, which he invested, with a hundred thousand -men who had flocked to his standard. The Queen and Princesses were -lodged at Turon, looking towards the sea. In 1190 King Philippe of -France arrived before Acre, and on June 10, 1191, King Richard -Coeur-de-Lion; and at last, on July 12, Saladin gave up the city to the -allied forces. But the pestilence had been very rife during the siege. -Baldwin Archbishop of Canterbury, and numbers of French and English -nobles, died in the camp: and among others the hero-Queen, Sybil of -Anjou, and her two fragile children. - -Raymond of Tripoli was dead also. He died in his sleep, unabsolved; and -evidence of his having formally apostatized to Mahometanism was found -after his death. - -After thus taking "last leave of all he loved," Guy--brave, rash, -impetuous Guy--appears to have become almost reckless. Of course, by -right, Sybil was succeeded by her sister Isabel; but Guy still clung to -his title of King, and the privileges appurtenant to it, and disputed -with Conrado of Monferrato, the husband of Isabel, the right to the -customs of the port of Acre. Conrado was an extremely quarrelsome man, -and Guy's opposition seems to have been personally directed to him; for -on his death (which of course Guy and Coeur-de-Lion were accused of -forwarding) Guy readily acknowledged Isabel and her third husband, on -condition of receiving the island of Cyprus as compensation for all his -claims. King Richard had sold Cyprus to the Templars, but he coolly took -it from them, and gave it to Guy, who, being apparently more honest of -the two, paid a hundred thousand crowns to the Templars as compensation. -This is the last that we hear of Guy de Lusignan, except the mere date -of his death, which occurred, according to different authorities, from -one to four years after the cession of Cyprus. - -Few historical characters have had less justice done them by modern -writers, than Guy de Lusignan and Sybil his wife. In the first place, -Guy is accused of having, in 1167-8, assassinated Patrick Earl of -Salisbury, in returning from a pilgrimage to Saint Iago de Compostella. -King Henry II., we are told, was greatly enraged, and banished Guy from -Poitou, whereupon he assumed the cross, and set out for the Holy Land. -Now the truth is that in 1167-8, it is scarcely possible that Guy could -be above ten years old. Either it was another Guy de Lusignan, or the -outrage was committed by persons of whom the child Guy was the nominal -head. But all the circumstances tend to show that Guy's arrival in the -Holy Land was little, if at all, before 1180, and that at that time he -was a very young man. - -We next find Guy accused of such boundless ambition, that he not only -induced King Baldwin IV. to put all the affairs of the kingdom into his -hands, but even to promise him the succession after his death. But when -Baldwin had bestowed upon Guy his sister and heir presumptive, Sybil, -how could he either promise him the succession or lawfully deprive him -of it? The reversion of the crown was hers. Baldwin did her a cruel -injustice, and committed an illegal act, when he passed her over, and -abdicated in favour of her infant son. - -Then, on the death of Baldwin V., we are actually told that Sybil, urged -by her ambitious husband, _usurped_ the crown. Usurped it from whom? -Surely not from her own daughters!--surely not from her younger sister! -Matthew of Westminster distinctly remarks that "there was none to -succeed but his mother Sybilla." Sybil merely took back her own -property, of which she had been unjustly deprived. - -Again, with respect to her action at her coronation, poor Sybil comes in -again for her share of blame. She had no business, we are assured, to -choose Guy, who had already proved himself an unsatisfactory governor; -and in the interest of the kingdom, she ought to have married some one -else. In other words, she ought to have committed sin in the interest -of her subjects! - -Lastly, a wholesale charge of poisoning is brought against both Guy and -Sybil. Probabilities are thrown overboard. They are accused of -poisoning young Baldwin V.; and Guy is charged with the murder of his -wife and children, though their death entirely destroyed his claim to -the royal title. The truth is, that in the twelfth century, any death -not easily to be accounted for was always set down to poison: and the -nearest relatives, totally irrespective of character, were always -suspected of having administered it. Men of Guy's -disposition,--impulsive, rash, and generous even to a fault, loving and -self-sacrificing,--are not usually in the habit of murdering those they -love best: and considered merely from a political point of view, the -simultaneous deaths of Sybil and her children were the worst calamities -which could have fallen upon Guy. - - - *II. THE ROYAL FAMILY OF JERUSALEM.* - -Melisende, Queen of Jerusalem, eldest of the four daughters of Baldwin -II., and Morsise of Armenia, _succeeded_ her father in 1131, and _died -in_ 1141 or 1144. She _married_-- - -Foulques V., Count of Anjou; _married_ 1128; _died_ at Acre, by -accident, November, 1142. [He had previously been married to Ermengarde -of Maine, by whom he had four children,--Geoffrey Plantagenet; Helie -Count of Maine; Sybil, Countess of Flanders; and Alice, Crown Princess -of England.] - - - _Issue of Queen Melisende_:-- - -1. Baldwin III, _born_ 1129, _died_ Feb., 1162, without issue. -_Married_-- - -Theodora Comnena, daughter of Isaac I., Emperor of the East - -2. Amaury I., _born_ 1132-6; _died_ July 11, 1173. _Married_-- - -(A) Agnes de Courtenay, daughter of Josceline, Count of Edessa: -_divorced_. - -(B) MARIA COMNENA, daughter or niece of Manuel I., Emperor of the East: -living 1190. [Character imaginary.] - - - _Issue of Amaury I. By Agnes_:-- - - -1. BALDWIN IV., the Leper; _born_ 1158; _abdicated_ 1183; _d._ March 16, -1185. Never married. - -2. SYBIL I., _crowned_ Sept., 1186; _died_ at Acre, during the siege, -1190. [Character historical] _Married_-- - - (A) Guglielmo, Marquis of Monferrato: _died_ 1180. - -(B) GUY DE LUSIGNAN: _mar._ 1183; _died_ September (Fabyan) 1193 (ib.) -1194 (Moreri, Woodward and Coates Chron. Cycl.) 1195 (Roger de Hoveden) -1196 (Anderson). [Character historical] - - - _By Maria_:-- - -3. ISABEL I. [Character historical] _Married_-- - -(A) HOMFROY DE TOURS: _mar. circ._ 1183; _divorced_ 1190; _died_ 1199. -[The legality of the divorce was very doubtful, and caused many -subsequent counter-claims to the throne.] - -(B) Conrado, Marquis of Monferrato, Count of Tyre: _mar._ 1190; -_assassinated_ at Tyre, Apr. 27, 1192. - -(C) Henri, Count of Champagne: _mar._ 1193, _died_ at Acre, by accident, -1196-7. - -(D) AMAURY DE LUSIGNAN, brother of Guy: _mar._ 1197, _d._ 1205. -[Character imaginary.] - - - _Issue of Sybil I. By Guglielmo_:-- - -1. BALDWIN V., _born_ 1180, _crowned_ Nov. 20, 1183; _died_ at Acre, -1186. [Character imaginary.] - - - _By Guy_:-- - -2, 3. DAUGHTERS, died with mother, during siege of Acre, 1190. [Some -writers ascribe four daughters to Sybil.] - - - _Issue of Isabel I. By Conrado_:-- - -1. Marie, or Violante, I. Married-- - -Jean de Brienne, third son of Erard II. Count of Brienne, and Agnes de -Montbeliard; Emperor of the East, 1233; _died_ Mar. 21, 1237. - - - _By Henri_:-- - -2. Alix I., _died cir._ 1246. Married-- - -(A) HUGUES DE LUSIGNAN, son of Amaury de Lusignan and Eschine d'Ibellin: -_died_ 1219. - - (B) Bohemond IV., Prince of Antioch: _divorced_. - - (C) Raoul, Count of Soissons: _died circ._ 1246. - -3. Philippa, _mar._ 1214, Erard de Brienne, Lord of Rameru; living 1247. - - - _By Amaury_:-- - -4. Sybil, _mar._ Leon I., King of Armenia. - -5. Robert, Abbot of St. Michael - -6. Amaury, _died_ young. - - - _Issue of Marie I_. - -Violante, _mar._ at Brindisi, 1223-5, Friedrich II., Emperor of Germany: -_died_ 1228-9. - - -From this marriage the Emperors of Germany and Austria derive the empty -title of Kings of Jerusalem. They have no right to it, since the -posterity of Violante became extinct in the second generation. The -Kings of Italy, on the contrary, have a right to the title, being -descendants of Anna of Cyprus, the heir general of Alix I. - - - - *III. HOUSE OF LUSIGNAN.* - - -It will be perceived from the following table, that in the story, the -three Williams, sons of Count Geoffrey, have been made into one; and -that the sisters, Alix and Elaine, are fictitious characters. - -The House of Lusignan begins about A.D. 900, with Hugues I., surnamed -_Le Veneur_. Eighth in descent from him we find-- - -Hugues VIII., died 1164. _Married_-- - -Bourgogne, daughter of Geoffroy de Rancon. - - - _Issue_:-- - -1. Hugues IX, _died_ 1206. _Married_-- - -Mahaud, daughter of Wulgrain III., Count of Angouleme. - -2. GEOFFROY, COUNT DE LA MARCHE, living 1210. [Character imaginary.] -_Married_-- - - (A) Eustacie de Chabot. - -(B) Clemence, daughter of Hugues Viscount de Chatelherault. [Character -imaginary.] - - - _Issue of Hugues IX. and Mahaud_:-- - -Hugues X., le Brun: _killed_ at Massoura, 1249. _Married_-- - -Isabelle, Countess of Angouleme, and widow of John King of England; -_mar._ 1217-21; _died_ 1246. - -[From this marriage sprang the House of Valence, Earls of Pembroke, -famous in English history.] - - - _Issue of Count Geoffroy and Eustacie_:-- - -1. GUILLAUME, surnamed _a la grande dent_, _died_ issueless before 1250. -_Married_-- - -UMBERGE, daughter of the Viscount de Limoges. [Character imaginary.] - -2. GUILLAUME, Lord of Mairevant. _Married_-- - -[Unknown.] - -3. GUILLAUME de Valence, _died_ 1170. - -4. GUY, Count of Jaffa and Ascalon: _crowned_ King of Jerusalem, Sept. -1186; _died Sept._, 1193-6. [See the previous article.] - -5. AMAURY, _died_ 1205. _Married_-- - -(A) ESCHINE, daughter of Beaudouin d'Ibellin, Lord of Rames; _died_ -1193. [Character imaginary.] - - (B) ISABEL I., Queen of Jerusalem. [See last article.] - -6. RAOUL d'Issoudun, _d._ 1218-9. _Married_, before Aug. 31, 1199. - -Alice, Countess of Eu: living Sept. 19, 1119. - - - _Issue of Guillaume Lord of Mairevant_:-- - -1. VALENCE, _mar._ Hugues, Lord of Parthenay. - -2. Elise, or Aline, _mar._ Bartholome, Lord de La Haye. - - - _Issue of Amaury and Eschine_:-- - -1. GUY, _died_ young. - -2. Jean, _died_ young. - -3. HUGUES, _died_ 1219. _Married_-- - -Alix I., Queen of Jerusalem. [See last article] - -4. Bourgogne, _mar._ Gaultier de Montbelliard. - -5. HELOISE, _mar._ (1) Eudes de Dampierre; (2) Rupin, Prince of Antioch. - -[For issue of Amaury and Queen Isabel, see last article.] - - - - *TITLES.* - - -Society was divided in the twelfth century into four ranks -only,--nobles, clergy, bourgeoisie, and villeins. Two of these,--nobles -and villeins--were kept as distinct as caste ever kept classes in India, -though of course with some differences of detail. All titled persons, -knights, and landed proprietors, belonged to the nobility. The clergy -were recruited from nobility and bourgeoisie--rarely from the villein -class. The bourgeoisie were free men, without land, and usually with -some trade or profession; and were despised by the nobles, as men who -had lifted themselves above their station, and presumed to vie with -their betters. The villeins were always serfs, saleable with the land -on which they lived, bound to the service of its owner, disposable at -his pleasure, and esteemed by him very little superior to cattle. -Education was restricted to clergy and noble women, with a few -exceptions among the male nobility; but as a rule, a lay gentleman who -could read a book, or write anything beyond his signature, was rarely to -be seen. - -No kind of title was bestowed in addressing any but nobles and clergy. -The bourgeois was merely Richard Haberdasher, John the Clerk, or William -by the Brook--(whence come Clark and Brook as surnames)--the villein was -barely Hodge or Robin, without any further designation unless necessary, -when the master's name was added. Such a term as Ralph Walter-Servant -(namely, Ralph, servant of Walter) is not uncommon on mediaeval rolls. - -The clergy, as is still the case in Romish countries, were addressed as -Father; and those who had not graduated at the Universities were termed -Sir, with the surname--"Sir Green," or "Sir Dickson." It is doubtful, -however, whether this last item stretches so far back as the twelfth -century. "Dan," the epithet of Chaucer, certainly does not. - -The names bestowed on the nobles consisted of three for the men, and two -for the women. (French, it must be remembered, was the language of -England as well as of France at this time. Only villeins spoke -English.) The lowest epithet was "Sieur" (gentleman), which was applied -to untitled landed proprietors. The next, "Sire" or "Messire" (Sir) was -the title of the knights; and the King was addressed as Sire only -because he was the chief knight in the realm. The highest, "Seigneur" -(Lord) was applied to royalty, peers, and all nobles in authority, -especially those possessing territorial power. The ladies, married and -single, were addressed as "Dame" and "Damoiselle." The English version -of the last title, damsel, was used of the young nobility of both sexes. - -Among themselves, nobles addressed their relatives by the title of -relationship, with the epithet "bel" prefixed--which, when English began -to be spoken by the higher classes, was translated "fair." "Fair -Father," "Fair Brother," sound very odd to modern ears: but for -centuries they were the usual appellations in a noble family, both in -England and in France. They were not, however, used between husband and -wife, who always ceremoniously termed each other Monseigneur and Madame. - -It was only natural--and is what we ourselves do to this day--that our -ancestors should address God in prayer by those terms which in their -eyes were the highest titles of honour. In this light, though "Majesty" -is peculiar to Spain, yet "Seigneur," "Messire," and "Bel Pere," -obtained currency in most civilised countries. The first we have -retained: and though we have degraded "Lord" into the title of our -lesser nobility, we still use it as the special epithet of Deity. It is -only custom which has made the other names sound strange to our ears. -We no longer prefix "fair" to "Father" when we address the human -relative; and it has also become unusual to transfer it to the divine -Father. "Sir God" would shock us. But in our ancestors' eyes it was -the most reverent and honourable of all titles, which was the reason why -they chose it. Even so late as the fifteenth century, the Maid of -Orleans never spoke of God by any other term than "Messire." - - - - - THE END - - - - - * * * * * * * * - - - - - *Stories of English Life.* - - *BY EMILY S. HOLT.* - - - A.D. 597 - - I. Imogen: - A TALE OF THE EARLY BRITISH CHURCH. - - - A.D. 1066 - - II. Behind the Veil: - A STORY OF THE NORMAN CONQUEST. - - - A.D. 1159 - - III. One Snowy Night; - OR, LONG AGO AT OXFORD. - - - A.D. 1189 - - IV. Lady Sybil's Choice: - A TALE OF THE CRUSADES. - - - A.D. 1214 - - V. Earl Hubert's Daughter; - OR, THE POLISHING OF THE PEARL. - - - A.D. 1325 - - VI. In all Time of our Tribulation: - THE STORY OF PIERS GAVESTONE. - - - A.D. 1350 - - VII. The White Lady of Hazelwood: - THE WARRIOR COUNTESS OF MONTFORT. - - - A.D. 1352 - - VIII. Countess Maud; - OR, THE CHANGES OF THE WORLD. - - - A.D. 1360 - - IX. In Convent Walls: - THE STORY OF THE DESPENSERS. - - - A.D. 1377 - - X. John De Wycliffe, - AND WHAT HE DID FOR ENGLAND. - - - A.D. 1384 - - XI. The Lord Mayor: - A TALK OF LONDON IN 1384. - - - A.D. 1390 - - XII. Under One Sceptre: - THE STORY OF THE LORD OF THE MARCHES - - - A.D. 1400 - - XIII. The White Rose of Langley; - OR, THE STORY OF CONSTANCE LE DESPENSER. - - - A.D. 1400 - - XIV. Mistress Margery: - A TALE OF THE LOLLARDS. - - - A.D. 1400 - - XV. Margery's Son; - OR, UNTIL HE FIND IT. - - - A.D. 1470 - - XVI. Red and White; - OR, THE WARS OF THE ROSES. - - - A.D. 1480 - - XVII. The Tangled Web: - A TALE OF THE FIFTEENTH CENTURY. - - - A.D. 1515 - - XVIII. The Harvest of Yesterday: - A TALE OF THE SIXTEENTH CENTURY. - - - A.D. 1530 - - XIX. Lettice Eden; - OR, THE LAMPS OF EARTH AND THE LIGHTS OF HEAVEN. - - - A.D. 1535 - - XX. Isoult Barry of Wynscote: - A TALE OF TUDOR TIMES. - - - A.D. 1544 - - XXI. Through the Storm; - OR, THE LORD'S PRISONERS. - - - A.D. 1555 - - XXII. Robin Tremayne: - A TALE OF THE MARIAN PERSECUTION. - - - A.D. 1556 - - XXIII. All's Well; - OR, ALICE'S VICTORY. - - - A.D. 1556 - - XXIV. The King's Daughters. - HOW TWO GIRLS KEPT THE FAITH. - - - A.D. 1569 - - XXV. Sister Rose; - OR, THE EVE OF ST. BARTHOLOMEW. - - - A.D. 1579 - - XXVI. Joyce Morrell's Harvest: - A STORY OF THE REIGN OF ELIZABETH. - - - A.D. 1588 - - XXVII. Clare Avery: - A STORY OF THE SPANISH ARMADA. - - - A.D. 1605 - - XXVIII. It Might Have Been: - THE STORY OF GUNPOWDER PLOT. - - - A.D. 1635 - - XXIX. Minster Lovel: - A STORY OF THE DAYS OF LAUD. - - - A.D. 1662 - - XXX. Wearyholme; - A STORY OF THE RESTORATION. - - - A.D. 1712 - - XXXI. The Maiden's Lodge; - OR, THE DAYS OF QUEEN ANNE. - - - A.D. 1745 - - XXXII. Out in the Forty-five; - OR, DUNCAN KEITH'S VOW. - - - A.D. 1750 - - XXXIII. Ashcliffe Hall: - A TALE OF THE LAST CENTURY. - - - XXXIV. A.D. 1556 - - For the Master's Sake; - OR, THE DAYS OF QUEEN MARY. - - - A.D. 1345 - - The Well in the Desert. - AN OLD LEGEND. - - - XXXV. A.D. 1559 - - All for the Best; - OR, BERNARD GILPIN'S MOTTO. - - - A.D. 1560 - - At the Grene Griffin: - A TALE OF THE SIXTEENTH CENTURY. - - - XXXVI. A.D. 1270 - - Our Little Lady; - OR, SIX HUNDRED YEARS AGO - - A.D. 1652 - - Gold that Glitters; - OR, THE MISTAKES OF JENNY LAVENDER. - - - XXXVII. A.D. 1290 - - A Forgotten Hero: - THE STORY OF ROGER DE MORTIMER. - - A.D. 1266 - - Princess Adelaide: - A STORY OF THE SIEGE OF KENILWORTH. - - - XXXVIII. 1ST CENTURY. - - The Slave Girl of Pompeii. - - - 2ND CENTURY. - - The Way of the Cross. - TALES OF THE EARLY CHURCH - - - A.D. 870 to 1580 - - XXXIX. Lights in the Darkness: - BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCHES. - - - A.D. 1873 - - XL. Verena. - SAFE PATHS AND SLIPPERY BYE-WAYS. - A Story of To-day. - - - - LONDON: JOHN F. 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