and its broad domains. Herbert listened, pained in mind, andmoved, but not convinced. "Should she be fake, there is no virtue orfaith in womankind, and I would as lief throw away my life in the firstbattle in which I am engaged as live." Many young men have thought thesame thing, and changed their mind.
No sooner had Herbert taken his departure than Father Mathew, who hadgot into the confidence of Master Thomas Fisher, urged him to press hissuit. Old Master Fisher had become very much averse to it, on accountof the reports which were current; but Thomas asserted that hedisbelieved them, and that, in spite of all that might be said againstMistress Gertrude, he was resolved to marry her.
Years rolled on; news came of the expedition of the Scotch king and thesupposed prince into England, and of its failure. After that nothingmore was heard of the unfortunate husband of the Lady Catherine Gordonor of young Sir Herbert de Beauville, who had been knighted by the Kingof Scotland.
Meantime a visitor had come to Donington. He was evidently a man ofsuperior birth. He was frequently seen in the company of MistressGertrude, and various were the surmises about him. Both Master Alwynand his dame paid him the greatest respect. He was somewhat advanced inlife, though still strong and active. His bronzed complexion, and morethan one scar visible on his cheek, showed that he had been engaged inwar in southern climes. He did not appear to seek concealment, but atthe same time not a word did he let drop which could allow people toguess who he was. At length one day a dozen men-at-arms and severalknights, with two led horses, appeared at Donington, and the strangerand Mistress Gertrude were seen to mount and ride away after anaffectionate farewell of Master Alwyn and his dame. No people were morepuzzled than Roger Bertram and Father Mathew. They remained atBeauville, holding the castle for Sir Herbert, though it seemed verydoubtful whether he would ever return. One day a wandering minstrelcame to the neighbouring hamlet. He approached a house, the bush hungover the door of which showed that entertainment for man and beast wasto be obtained in the establishment. The minstrel took his seat in thepublic room, and quickly entered into conversation with those aroundhim. His object seemed to be to obtain information about the persons inthe neighbourhood. Among others he asked after Master Alwyn and hisdame. They were living as before in the old house, and enjoying goodhealth and strength.
"They had a daughter," observed the minstrel, in a calm voice.
"Oh, the hussy!--she long since went away with a gay knight, who camewith a band to carry her off, and no one knows what has become of her,"answered his loquacious informant.
"It is false!" exclaimed the minstrel, starting up. Then, suddenlychecking himself, he added: "I mean, such reports as these often getabout without due foundation."
However, he could not calm the agitation this information caused him,and, having paid his reckoning and slung the harp he carried over hisshoulder, he left the house. He took his way towards Beauville. FatherMathew was standing at the entrance as he approached the old castle.
"Go thy way--go thy way; we want no vagrants here. We have enough ofour own starving poor to feed without yielding to the rapacity ofstrangers," cried the father, eyeing him askance.
The minstrel humbly turned aside, and, not far off, met old RogerBertram. He was about to avoid him, when Roger, eyeing him narrowly,hobbled forward, for he could not run, and, taking him in his arms,exclaimed:
"My son--my own boy--my young master--and art thou really come backsound in limb and health? Thrice happy is this day."
The minstrel was no other than Sir Herbert de Beauville. He seemed toomuch broken in spirits even to laugh at the way Father Mathew hadtreated him. He had escaped, not without difficulty, after the defeatof the pretended Richard of York, who, acknowledging himself as PerkinWarbeck, had surrendered to the King. Herbert had now only one objecton earth for which he desired to live--to establish the fair fame ofMistress Gertrude Alwyn; and he had resolved, he said, to trace out theauthor of the calumnies he had heard against her, or, if he could not dothat, to punish every one who had been known to utter them.
It appeared that her disappointed suitor, Master Thomas Fisher, had beenheard to repeat the evil reports concerning her. Here, then, was anobject on whom he could wreak his vengeance. Master Fisher had, bymeans of the wealth which had fallen to him, been able to purchase atitle and honours of the mercenary king, and he now gave himself all theairs of an old noble. When, therefore, Sir Herbert challenged him tomortal combat on account of words uttered against the fair fame of adamsel undeserving of such reproach, he was compelled to accept thechallenge. Space does not permit a description of the combat. Thenewly-made baron was overthrown, and as Sir Herbert stood over him withhis drawn sword, he confessed that he had himself, in revenge, inserteda small pebble in a hole under the rocking-stone, by which it becamefixed and incapable of moving. On this Sir Herbert granted him hislife, on condition that he should repeat the statement whenever heshould so require him to do. He had it also made out in writing andduly attested, and, with this document in his hand, he set out to visitMaster Alwyn and his dame. His heart sank within him when he learnedfrom them that Mistress Gertrude was not their daughter, but the onlychild of the Earl of Fitz-Stephen, who had, by the sacrifice of aportion of his patrimony, which had gone into the king's coffers, latelyregained the remainder. His spirits, however, rose again when theyencouraged him to hasten forthwith to, the earl's castle and to try hisfortune with the lady, showing her the document he had brought with him.He followed their advice; the Lady Gertrude received him in a way tosatisfy his utmost hopes, and presented him to her father as the onlyperson she would ever marry. They were accordingly wedded, and byliving in privacy till the death of Henry, Sir Herbert escaped beingimplicated in the attempts made by the pretended Richard of York to gainthe English crown.
STORY THREE, CHAPTER ONE.
STORY THREE--REGINALD WARRENDER; OR, EARLY DAYS AT ETON.
"Reginald, my boy, I was at Eton myself, and, in spite of somedrawbacks, I loved the old place right dearly, and so I intend to gowith you, and to introduce you to all the spots I remember so well; butI don't suppose any of my old acquaintance and chums are still to befound there. However, the very sight of the walls and towers of theschool, the meadows, the river, and the Castle in the distance, willmake me young again. You will find a good deal of difference between itand where you have been before. The discipline there is apt to take agood deal of pride and self-sufficiency out of a fellow--not that youhave much of them, I hope. The tutor I have chosen for you, MrLindsay, is a first-rate man. You are to live in his house. I was at adame's--a real dame--a very good, old lady, though some are men you willfind. There is much the same discipline and order kept in both. Wewill have our portmanteaus packed by Friday, so that we will sleep inLondon, and go down there on Saturday morning, that you may have thebest part of that day and Sunday to look about you."
These remarks were made by Squire Warrender to his son, who had hithertobeen at a boarding-school, where he had received the first rudiments ofhis education.
Reginald thanked his father for his intentions.
"It will be very delightful to have you with me, papa," he exclaimed;"it will not feel at all as if I were going to school; and, besides,Eton is the place of all others I wished to go to. I don't much fearthe fagging or the bullying, and I can take pretty good care of myselfnow."
In truth Reginald had no longer any dread about going to school. He hadaccepted schooling as a necessity of boyish existence, and had made uphis mind to endure all its ups and downs with equanimity. The day fortheir departure arrived. Mary, his sister, did not fail to promise towrite as usual, and John assured his young master that he would takegood care of Polly, his pony, and Carlo and the other dogs, and theferrets, and all his other animate or inanimate treasures. Reginald hadbeen disinclined to accept Mrs Dawson's offer to fill a hamper with herstores; but the Squire recollected that in his time, at all events, suchthings were not looked on at all with contempt by the youngsters
atEton; so a hamper even better supplied than before was provided for him.The Squire and he started away in very good spirits, cutting jokes tothe last as they drove off. They had no time to see sights in London,and early the next morning, after breakfast, they started off with allReginald's property for the Great Western station, and within an hourthe latter found himself in the long-thought-of and often-pictured townof Eton. He looked out eagerly on either side as they drove alongtowards his tutor's. So did the Squire, especially when they reachedthe High Street. Many a place did he seem to recognise.
"Ah! there it is just as it was," he was continually exclaiming."There's my old sock-shop--_soake_, a local term for baking, is thebetter spelling. I spent money enough there, so perhaps they willremember me; so we will have a look in there by-and-by. Ah! there's theChristopher too, where we will go and dine. I dare