CHAPTER XXI.
Would I a house for happiness erect, Nature alone should be the architect.--Cowley.
Light hath no tongue, but is all eye; If it could speak as well as spy, This were the worst that it could say, That being well I fain would stay.--Donne.
We must now pass over a brief space of time with but littlecommemoration.
It was a bright and beautiful morning in the beginning of the month ofMay, when the sky was of that soft, tender blue which it possesses inthe early year, ere the ardent rays of summer have dyed it with adeeper tint; and yet there was nothing of that misty faintness of huewhich foretels that the blue eye of heaven may be filled with tearsbefore nightfall. It was clear, though it was soft; and the lightwhite clouds that, winged by the breeze, sped quickly over the wideexpanse, gave to the earth no trace of their passing, except thefleeting shadows that followed them, which, hurrying rapidly over thedistant fields and woods, made each spot as they left it look brighterthan before. Every object that met the eye spoke of spring. The brightgreen of the trees, and the fields, and the woods, clearly told thatthey had not known the burning touch of summer, which, like manhoodand the world's experience, coming o'er the fresh dreams of youth,withers while it ripens, and with its very first approach stealssomewhat of the refreshing hue of early nature. The wild singing ofthe birds, rejoicing in the return of brightness to the earth, andmaking the whole air vocal with the bursting happiness of theirrenewed enjoyment; the busy hum of animated being rising up from hill,and dale, and wood, and joining with their song upon the breeze; allspoke of refreshed existence. Flowers painted the fields, and blossomshung upon the trees, and perfume shook its light wings in the morningair and sprinkled it with balm.
It was one of those mornings when the heart opens, and when every veinthrills with glad existence; when we feel, as it were, the Deity onthe morning's breath; when we hear Him in the voice of creation; whenwe worship Him in his works, and adore Him in the temple He himselfhas raised. The scene, too, was lovely. It was in a wide open park,where the rich thick grass spread like velvet over every slope andlawn; so rich, so thick, its elasticity almost raised the foot thattrod it. On its luxuriant bosom the wide old trees, scattered inclumps, or gathered together in broad sweeping woods, cast a deepshadow, defined and clear, making the glossy softness and the vividgreen shine out more strongly for the contrast. It was the elm and theoak that principally tenanted that park, though occasionally ahawthorn or a beech would interpose; and wherever they congregated ina wood there was to be found every sort of shrub and brushwoodclinging round their roots. Many a glade, however, appeared, and manya lawn between; and where the trees broke away, there a wide extendedview presented itself, showing a rich and fertile country beyond, fullof green hedgerows and fields, broken and diversified by the lines ofhamlets and villages, mingling an air of wealth, prosperity, andliving gladness, with the bright sweetness of the morning and the calmtranquillity of the park itself.
At the foot, then, of one of the old oaks in Richmond Park sat LadyConstance de Grey, while her woman Margaret stood at a little distancewith a page, and Sir Osborne Maurice leaned by her side. They had metby chance--really by chance--at that early hour in that remote part ofthe park; though it is more than probable that the same thoughts,acting on hearts so nearly allied, had led them both forth to meditateon their fate. And even after they had met, the stillness of the sceneseemed to have found its way to their souls, for they remained almostin silence watching the clouds and gazing at the view, content to feelthat they enjoyed together the same sweet morning and the same lovelyscene.
It may be as well, however, before proceeding further, to give someslight sketch of what had occurred since the close of the lastchapter; though were we to account for every day, it would be butdetail of just after just, tourney after tourney, revel upon revel,wearisome from their repetition, and sickening from their vainsplendour. Suffice it that Sir Osborne still maintained his place inthe king's favour. His lance was always held by the judges of thefield as next to the king's: his grace in the hall, or at the court,his dexterity in martial exercises, his clerkly learning, and hislighter accomplishments, won him much admiration; while a sort ofunassumingness, which seemed to hold his own high qualities as light,silenced much envy. In short, it became the fashion to praise him; andit is so easy for courtiers to applaud or to decry, as the veeringbreath of favour changes, that to believe the outward semblance, SirOsborne Maurice, next to the king himself, and Charles Brandon Duke ofSuffolk, was the god of the court's idolatry.
There was, however, many a curious whisper of--Who was he? Whence didhe come? What was his family? And some of the knights who had servedabroad, and had been with the king at Terouenne and Tournay, conferredtogether, and shook the wise head; but still it was remarked that theywere amongst those who most praised and sought the young knight. SirOsborne marked with a keen and observing eye all that passed abouthim; and seeing that he was recognised by more than one, he felt thathe must hasten to prevent his secret being communicated to the king byany lips but his own; and now high in favour, he only waited a fittingopportunity to hazard all by the avowal of his name and rank.
Wolsey had been absent for nearly a month in his diocese at York, and,removed from the influence of his presence, Lord Darby and LadyKatrine Bulmer, Sir Osborne and Constance de Grey, seemed to haveforgot his stern authority, and given course to the feelings of theirhearts. The knight had seen Lady Constance almost every day; and goodMistress Margaret, her woman, with whom Sir Osborne was no smallfavourite, took care not to exercise towards him that strict etiquettewhich she practised upon all other visitors, leaving them fullopportunity to say all that the heart sought to communicate, as shevery well perceived what feelings were busy in their breasts.
Thus everything between them was explained, everything was known:there was no coldness, there was no reserve, there was none of thatidle and base coquetry which delights in teasing a heart that loves.Constance de Grey loved sincerely, openly, and she had too high anesteem for the man she had chosen, to suppose that the acknowledgmentof that love could make it less worthy in his eyes. Happy indeed itwas for them both that the most perfect confidence did exist betweenthem, for Henry had conceived the project of marrying the young knightto Lady Katrine; and though the queen, with the instinctive perceptionof a woman in those matters, soon saw that such a plan would very illaccord with the feelings of either party, and quickly discouraged it,yet Henry, giving way to all his own impetuosity, hurried it on withprecipitation, took every occasion to force them together, anddeclared that he would have them married as soon as the court returnedfrom the meeting with the French king at Guisnes.
The situation of Sir Osborne was not a little embarrassing, the moreespecially as Lady Katrine, in her merry malice, often seemed to givein entirely to the king's schemes, having a threefold object in sodoing, if object can be attributed to such heedless gaiety; namely, tocoquet a little with Sir Osborne, which she did not dislike withanybody, to enjoy his embarrassment, and, at the same time, to teaseLord Darby.
With these three laudable motives she might have contrived to make SirOsborne and Lady Constance unhappy, had not that mutual confidenceexisted between them which set all doubts at defiance. Nor, indeed,was it Lady Katrine's wish to do harm: whimsical, gay, andthoughtless, she gave way to the impulse of the moment. If she was ingood humour, she was all liveliness and spirit, running as close tothe borders of direct flirtation as possible with whomsoever happenedto be near; but, on the contrary, if anything went wrong with her, shewould be petulant and irritable, showing forth a thousand little airsof affected dignity and reserve which were not natural to her. Noone's good regard did she seek more than that of Lady Constance deGrey; and yet she seemed to take every way to lose it. But Constance,though so different herself, understood her character, appreciated thegood, made allowance for the faults, and secure in Darnley'saffection, forgave her little coquetry with her lover.
In r
egard to Lord Darby, he knew Lady Katrine too; and if ever he gavehimself a moment's uneasiness about her waywardness, he did not let itappear. If she flirted, he flirted too; if she was gay, he took carenot to be a whit behind; if she was affectionate, he was gentle; andif she was cross, he laughed at her. She never could put him out ofhumour, though, to do her all manner of justice, she tried hard; andthus finding her attempts to tease ineffectual, she gradually relaxedin the endeavour.
In the mean time, the days of Sir Osborne and Lady Constance flew byin a sweet calm, that had something ominous in its tranquillity. Hehad almost forgotten Sir Payan Wileton; and in the mild flow of herhappiness, Constance scarcely remembered the schemes with which theavaricious and haughty Wolsey threatened to trouble the stream of herexistence. But, nevertheless, it was to be expected that if thedispensation had not yet arrived from Rome, it could not be delayedmore than a few days; and that, at the return of the minister fromYork, the command would be renewed for her to bestow her hand uponLord Darby. Such thoughts would sometimes come across Constance's mindwith a painful sensation of dread; and then, with a spirit which sofair and tender an exterior hardly seemed to announce, she wouldrevolve in her mind a plan for baffling the imperious prelate at allrisks, and yet not implicate her lover at the very moment that his"fortunes were a-making."
Then, again, she would often hope that the extraordinary preparationsthat were going forward for the speedy meeting of the two courts ofFrance and England, all the ceremonies that were to be arranged, andthe many important questions that were to be discussed, would divertthe mind of the cardinal from herself, at least till after thatmeeting had taken place; during which interval chance might producemany circumstances more favourable to her hopes. At all events, herresolution was taken: she felt, too, that no power on earth wasadequate to combat that determination; and thus, with fixed purpose,she turned her mind from the contemplation of future dangers to theenjoyment of her present happiness.
The scene in Richmond Park, to which the court had now removed fromGreenwich, as well as the bright gentleness of the May morning inwhich she met Sir Osborne there, was well calculated to nurse the mostpleasing children of hope; and yet there was something melancholy evenin the magnificent aspect of the day. I know not how, but often inthose grand shining mornings the soul seems to swell too powerfullyfor the body; the spirit to feel galled, as it were, by the chain thatbinds it to mortality. Whatever be the cause, there is still, in sucha scene, a pensiveness that steals upon the heart; a solemnity thatmakes itself felt in those innermost recesses of the mind wherethought and sensation blend so intimately as to be hardly separablefrom each other. Constance and Darnley both felt it; but still it wasnot sorrow that it produced; for, mingling with their fervent love andtheir youthful hope, it gave their feelings something of divine.
"This is very, very lovely, Darnley," said Lady Constance, after theyhad long gazed in silence. "Oh, why are not all days like this! Whymust we have the storm, and the tempest, and the cloud!"
"Perhaps," replied the knight, "if all days were so fair, we might notesteem them so much: we should be like those, Constance, who in theworld have gone on in a long course of uninterrupted prosperity, andwho have enjoyed so much that they can no longer enjoy."
"Oh, no, no!" cried she; "there are some pleasures that never cloy,and amongst them are those that we derive from contemplating theloveliness of nature. I cannot think that I should ever weary ofscenes like these. No! let me have a fairy sky, where the sunshinescarcely knows a cloud, and where the air is always soft and sweetlike this."
At this moment Mistress Margaret approached, with some consternationin her aspect. "Good now, lady!" cried she; "look! who is that coming?Such a strange-looking little man, no bigger than an atomy! Oh! I amglad the knight is with us; for it is something singular, I am sure."
"You are very right, Mistress Margaret," said Sir Osborne; "this is,indeed, a most singular being that approaches. Constance, you haveheard the queen and her ladies speak of Sir Cesar, the famousalchymist and astrologer. He is well known to good Dr. Wilbraham, andseems, for some reason, to take a strange interest in all myproceedings. Depend on it, he comes to warn us of something that isabout to happen, and his warning must not be slighted; for, fromwheresoever his knowledge comes, it is very strange."
Lady Constance and the knight watched the old man as he came slowlyover the green towards them, showing little of that vivacity ofdemeanour by which he was generally characterised. On approachingnear, he bowed to Lady Constance with courtly ease, saluted the knightin a manner which might be called affectionate; and, without apologyfor his intrusion, seated himself at the lady's feet, and began a gayand easy conversation upon the justs of the day before.
"There is no court in the world," said he, after a little--"and thereare few courts I have not seen--where such sports are carried to theheight of luxury that they are here. I never saw the tournaments, thejusts, the pageants of Henry the Eighth, King of England, excelled butonce."
"And when was that, may I ask?" demanded Lady Constance, whosefeelings towards the old man were strangely mingled of awe andcuriosity, so much had she heard of him and his strange powers duringher residence at the court.
"It was in Germany," replied Sir Cesar, "at the city of Ratisbon; andit was conducted as all such displays should ever be conducted. Eachknight wore over his armour a motley suit, and on his casque a cap andbells; the hilt of his sword was ornamented with a bauble, and as theymade procession to the lists, the court fools of all the electors inthe empire followed behind the knights, and whipped them on with blownbladders."
"Nay, nay, you are a satirist," said Lady Constance; "such a thing,surely, could never happen in reality."
"In truth it did, lady," answered Sir Cesar; "it was called the_Tournament of Fools_, though I wot not to distinguish it from othertournaments, which are all foolish enough. Osborne," he continued,turning abruptly to the young knight, "you will ride no more at thiscourt."
"How mean you?" demanded Sir Osborne: "why should I not?"
"I mean," replied the old man, "that I come to forewarn you ofapproaching evil. Perhaps you may turn it aside, but there is muchthat threatens you. Are you not losing time? The king's regard isgained; wherefore, then, do you delay? While Wolsey is absent--markme! while Wolsey is absent--or you are lost for the moment."
"Oh! say not so," cried Lady Constance, clasping her hands; "oh! saynot so, for I hear that he returns to-morrow."
"Fear not, lady," said Sir Cesar, who had now risen; "the danger willlast but for a time, and then pass away. So that, whatever happens toeither of you, let not your hearts sink; but be firm, steadfast, andtrue. All the advice I can give you is but the advice of an ordinarymortal like yourselves. Men judge rashly when they think that eventhose who see clearest can yet see clear. All that I know, all that Ibehold, is but a dim shadowing forth of what will be, like theindistinct memory of long gone years; a circumstance without a form. Isee in both your fates an evil and a sorrowful hour approaching, andyet I cannot tell you how to avoid it; but I can descry that 'twill bebut for a while, and that must console you."
"Good Sir Cesar," said the young knight, "I will ask you no questions,for I have now learned that you were a dear friend of my father, and Ifeel sure that you will give all knowledge that may be useful to me;and if you will tell me what is good to do in this conjuncture, I willfollow it."
"Good, now!" said Sir Cesar, with a gratified look: "good! I see youare overcoming your old fault, though you have been a long while aboutit. Three thousand years! three thousand years to my remembrance."
Constance turned an inquiring look to her lover, who, however, was notcapable of giving her any explanation. "Think you," demanded he,addressing Sir Cesar, "that it would be best to inform his grace ofeverything at once?"
"I think it would," said the old man; "I think it would, but Iscarcely dare advise you. Osborne, there is a conviction pressing onmy mind, which I have perhaps learned too late. Can it be that thos
ewho are permitted to read certain facts in the book of fate areblinded to the right interpretation of that which they discover?Perhaps it may be--I have reason to believe it. Nought that I haveever calculated has proved false; but often, often it has beenverified in a sense so opposite to my expectations, yet so evidentwhen it did appear, that it seems as if heaven held the searchpresumptuous, and baffled the searcher even with the knowledge heacquired. Never more will I presume to expound aught that I may learn.The fact I tell you: an evil and a bitter hour is coming for you both,but it shall not last, and then you shall be happy--when I am nomore." And turning away without other farewell, he left them, and tookthe way to the palace.
Lady Constance gazed on the face of her lover with a look ofapprehensive tenderness that banished all thought of himself. "Oh, myConstance!" said he, "to think of your having to undergo so much forme is too, too painful! But fear not, dear Constance; we are still ina land where laws are above all power, and they cannot, they dare notill-treat you!"
"For myself, Darnley," replied Constance, "I have no fear. They maythreaten, they may wrong me, they may do what they will, but they cannever make me marry another. It is for you I fear. However, he saidthat we should be happy at last, though he hinted that you would bedriven from the court. Oh, Darnley! if that be the case--if you findthere be the least danger--fly without loss of time----"
"And leave behind me," said Darnley, "all I love in the world! Oh,Constance! would not the block and axe itself be preferable? It would,it would, a thousand times preferable to leaving you for ever!"
"It might," said Constance; "I myself feel it might, if you feel as Ifeel. But, Darnley, I tell you at once I boldly promise to follow."
"But still, Constance, dear, excellent girl!" said the knight, "wouldit be right, would it be honourable, in me to accept such asacrifice?"
"Darnley," said Lady Constance, firmly, "my happiness is in yourhands, and what is right and honourable is not to throw that happinessaway. Now that my love is yours, now that my hand is promised to you,you have no right to think of rank, or fortune, or aught else. If Iwere obliged to fly, would you not follow me? and wheresoever you go,there will I find means to join you. All I ask, all I pray in returnis, that if there be the least danger, you will instantly fly. Willyou promise me? If you love me you will."
"I will," said Sir Osborne. "What would I not do to prove that love!But I trust, dear Constance, there may be no need of hasty flight. Allthey can do will be to banish me the court, for I have committed nocrime but coming here under a feigned name."
"I know not; I know not," said the lady; "'tis easy, where no crimeis, to forge an accusation; and, if report speak truth, such has beenWolsey's frequent policy, when any one became loved of our graciousking; so that even the favour you have gained may prove your ruin.But you have promised to fly upon the first threatening of danger,and I hold as a part of that promise that you will stay for noleave-taking."
"Well, well, Constance," replied the knight, "time will show us more.But, at all events, I will try to anticipate Wolsey's return, and, bytelling Henry all, secure my fate."
"Do so, do so!" said Lady Constance; "and, oh! lose no time. Fly tohim, Darnley; he must be risen by this time. Farewell! farewell!"
Sir Osborne would fain have lingered still, but Constance would not besatisfied till he went. At last then he left her, and proceeded withquick steps to the palace; while she, with a slower pace, pursuedanother path through the park, having been rejoined by MistressMargaret, who, not liking the appearance of old Sir Cesar, had removedto a secure distance on his approach, and who now poured forth noinconsiderable vituperation on his face, his figure, and his apparel.