CHAPTER XIX
By this good light, a wench of matchless mettle! This were a leaguer-lass to love a soldier, To bind his wounds, and kiss his bloody brow, And sing a roundel as she help'd to arm him, Though the rough foeman's drums were beat so nigh, They seem'd to bear the burden. _Old Play._
When Mistress Margaret entered the Foljambe apartment, she found theinmates employed in their usual manner; the lady in reading, and herattendant in embroidering a large piece of tapestry, which had occupiedher ever since Margaret had been first admitted within these secludedchambers.
Hermione nodded kindly to her visitor, but did not speak; and Margaret,accustomed to this reception, and in the present case not sorry for it,as it gave her an interval to collect her thoughts, stooped over MonnaPaula's frame and observed, in a half whisper, "You were just so far asthat rose, Monna, when I first saw you--see, there is the mark where Ihad the bad luck to spoil the flower in trying to catch the stitch--Iwas little above fifteen then. These flowers make me an old woman, MonnaPaula."
"I wish they could make you a wise one, my child," answered Monna Paula,in whose esteem pretty Mistress Margaret did not stand quite so high asin that of her patroness; partly owing to her natural austerity, whichwas something intolerant of youth and gaiety, and partly to the jealousywith which a favourite domestic regards any one whom she considers as asort of rival in the affections of her mistress.
"What is it you say to Monna, little one?" asked the lady.
"Nothing, madam," replied Mistress Margaret, "but that I have seen thereal flowers blossom three times over since I first saw Monna Paulaworking in her canvass garden, and her violets have not budded yet."
"True, lady-bird," replied Hermione; "but the buds that are longest inblossoming will last the longest in flower. You have seen them in thegarden bloom thrice, but you have seen them fade thrice also; now, MonnaPaula's will remain in blow for ever--they will fear neither frost nortempest."
"True, madam," answered Mistress Margaret; "but neither have they lifeor odour."
"That, little one," replied the recluse, "is to compare a life agitatedby hope and fear, and chequered with success and disappointment, andfevered by the effects of love and hatred, a life of passion and offeeling, saddened and shortened by its exhausting alternations, to acalm and tranquil existence, animated but by a sense of duties, and onlyemployed, during its smooth and quiet course, in the unwearied dischargeof them. Is that the moral of your answer?"
"I do not know, madam," answered Mistress Margaret; "but, of all birdsin the air, I would rather be the lark, that sings while he is driftingdown the summer breeze, than the weathercock that sticks fast yonderupon his iron perch, and just moves so much as to discharge his duty,and tell us which way the wind blows."
"Metaphors are no arguments, my pretty maiden," said the Lady Hermione,smiling.
"I am sorry for that, madam," answered Margaret; "for they are such apretty indirect way of telling one's mind when it differs from one'sbetters--besides, on this subject there is no end of them, and they areso civil and becoming withal."
"Indeed?" replied the lady; "let me hear some of them, I pray you."
"It would be, for example, very bold in me," said Margaret, "to sayto your ladyship, that, rather than live a quiet life, I would like alittle variety of hope and fear, and liking and disliking--and--and--andthe other sort of feelings which your ladyship is pleased to speak of;but I may say freely, and without blame, that I like a butterfly betterthan a bettle, or a trembling aspen better than a grim Scots fir, thatnever wags a leaf--or that of all the wood, brass, and wire that ever myfather's fingers put together, I do hate and detest a certain hugeold clock of the German fashion, that rings hours and half hours, andquarters and half quarters, as if it were of such consequence that theworld should know it was wound up and going. Now, dearest lady, I wishyou would only compare that clumsy, clanging, Dutch-looking piece oflumber, with the beautiful timepiece that Master Heriot caused my fatherto make for your ladyship, which uses to play a hundred merry tunes, andturns out, when it strikes the hour, a whole band of morrice dancers, totrip the hays to the measure."
"And which of these timepieces goes the truest, Margaret?" said thelady.
"I must confess the old Dutchman has the advantage in that"--saidMargaret. "I fancy you are right, madam, and that comparisons are noarguments; at least mine has not brought me through."
"Upon my word, maiden Margaret," said the lady, smiling, "you have beenof late thinking very much of these matters."
"Perhaps too much, madam," said Margaret, so low as only to be heard bythe lady, behind the back of whose chair she had now placed herself. Thewords were spoken very gravely, and accompanied by a half sigh, whichdid not escape the attention of her to whom they were addressed.The Lady Hermione turned immediately round, and looked earnestly atMargaret, then paused for a moment, and, finally, commanded Monna Paulato carry her frame and embroidery into the antechamber. When they wereleft alone, she desired her young friend to come from behind the chairon the back of which she still rested, and sit down beside her upon astool.
"I will remain thus, madam, under your favour," answered Margaret,without changing her posture; "I would rather you heard me withoutseeing me."
"In God's name, maiden," returned her patroness, "what is it you canhave to say, that may not be uttered face to face, to so true a friendas I am?"
Without making any direct answer, Margaret only replied, "You wereright, dearest lady, when you said, I had suffered my feelings too muchto engross me of late. I have done very wrong, and you will be angrywith me--so will my godfather, but I cannot help it--he must berescued."
"_He?_" repeated the lady, with emphasis; "that brief little word does,indeed, so far explain your mystery;--but come from behind the chair,you silly popinjay! I will wager you have suffered yonder gay youngapprentice to sit too near your heart. I have not heard you mentionyoung Vincent for many a day--perhaps he has not been out of mouth andout of mind both. Have you been so foolish as to let him speak to youseriously?--I am told he is a bold youth."
"Not bold enough to say any thing that could displease me, madam," saidMargaret.
"Perhaps, then, you were _not_ displeased," said the lady; "or perhapshe has not _spoken_, which would be wiser and better. Be open-hearted,my love--your godfather will soon return, and we will take him intoour consultations. If the young man is industrious, and come of honestparentage, his poverty may be no such insurmountable obstacle. But youare both of you very young, Margaret--I know your godfather will expect,that the youth shall first serve out his apprenticeship."
Margaret had hitherto suffered the lady to proceed, under the mistakenimpression which she had adopted, simply because she could not tell howto interrupt her; but pure despite at hearing her last words gave herboldness at length to say "I crave your pardon, madam; but neitherthe youth you mention, nor any apprentice or master within the city ofLondon--"
"Margaret," said the lady, in reply, "the contemptuous tone with whichyou mention those of your own class, (many hundreds if not thousands ofwhom are in all respects better than yourself, and would greatly honouryou by thinking of you,) is methinks, no warrant for the wisdom of yourchoice--for a choice, it seems, there is. Who is it, maiden, to whom youhave thus rashly attached yourself?--rashly, I fear it must be."
"It is the young Scottish Lord Glenvarloch, madam," answered Margaret,in a low and modest tone, but sufficiently firm, considering thesubject.
"The young Lord of Glenvarloch!" repeated the lady, in greatsurprise--"Maiden, you are distracted in your wits."
"I knew you would say so, madam," answered Margaret. "It is what anotherperson has already told me--it is, perhaps, what all the world wouldtell me--it is what I am sometimes disposed to tell myself. But lookat me, madam, for I will now come before you, and tell me if there ismadness or distraction in my look and word, when I repeat to you again,that I have fixed my affections on this young noblema
n."
"If there is not madness in your look or word, maiden, there is infinitefolly in what you say," answered the Lady Hermione, sharply. "When didyou ever hear that misplaced love brought any thing but wretchedness?Seek a match among your equals, Margaret, and escape the countlesskinds of risk and misery that must attend an affection beyond yourdegree.--Why do you smile, maiden? Is there aught to cause scorn in whatI say?"
"Surely no, madam," answered Margaret. "I only smiled to think how itshould happen, that, while rank made such a wide difference betweencreatures formed from the same clay, the wit of the vulgar should,nevertheless, jump so exactly the same length with that of theaccomplished and the exalted. It is but the variation of the phrasewhich divides them. Dame Ursley told me the very same thing which yourladyship has but now uttered; only you, madam, talk of countless misery,and Dame Ursley spoke of the gallows, and Mistress Turner, who washanged upon it."
"Indeed?" answered the Lady Hermione; "and who may Dame Ursley be,that your wise choice has associated with me in the difficult task ofadvising a fool?"
"The barber's wife at next door, madam," answered Margaret, with feignedsimplicity, but far from being sorry at heart, that she had found anindirect mode of mortifying her monitress. "She is the wisest woman thatI know, next to your ladyship."
"A proper confidant," said the lady, "and chosen with the same delicatesense of what is due to yourself and others!--But what ails you,maiden--where are you going?"
"Only to ask Dame Ursley's advice," said Margaret, as if about todepart; "for I see your ladyship is too angry to give me any, and theemergency is pressing."
"What emergency, thou simple one?" said the lady, in a kindertone.--"Sit down, maiden, and tell me your tale. It is true you are afool, and a pettish fool to boot; but then you are a child--an amiablechild, with all your self-willed folly, and we must help you, if wecan.--Sit down, I say, as you are desired, and you will find me a saferand wiser counseller than the barber-woman. And tell me how you come tosuppose, that you have fixed your heart unalterably upon a man whom youhave seen, as I think, but once."
"I have seen him oftener," said the damsel, looking down; "but I haveonly spoken to him once. I should have been able to get that once out ofmy head, though the impression was so deep, that I could even now repeatevery trifling word he said; but other things have since riveted it inmy bosom for ever."
"Maiden," replied the lady, "_for ever_ is the word which comes mostlightly on the lips in such circumstances, but which, not the less,is almost the last that we should use. The fashion of this world,its passions, its joys, and its sorrows, pass away like the wingedbreeze--there is nought for ever but that which belongs to the worldbeyond the grave."
"You have corrected me justly, madam," said Margaret calmly; "I oughtonly to have spoken of my present state of mind, as what will last mefor my lifetime, which unquestionably may be but short."
"And what is there in this Scottish lord that can rivet what concernshim so closely in your fancy?" said the lady. "I admit him a personableman, for I have seen him; and I will suppose him courteous andagreeable. But what are his accomplishments besides, for these surelyare not uncommon attributes."
"He is unfortunate, madam--most unfortunate--and surrounded by snaresof different kinds, ingeniously contrived to ruin his character, destroyhis estate, and, perhaps, to reach even his life. These schemes havebeen devised by avarice originally, but they are now followed close byvindictive ambition, animated, I think, by the absolute and concentratedspirit of malice; for the Lord Dalgarno--"
"Here, Monna Paula--Monna Paula!" exclaimed the Lady Hermione,interrupting her young friend's narrative. "She hears me not," sheanswered, rising and going out, "I must seek her--I will returninstantly." She returned accordingly very soon after. "You mentioned aname which I thought was familiar to me," she said; "but Monna Paula hasput me right. I know nothing of your lord--how was it you named him?"
"Lord Dalgarno," said Margaret;--"the wickedest man who lives. Underpretence of friendship, he introduced the Lord Glenvarloch to agambling-house with the purpose of engaging him in deep play; buthe with whom the perfidious traitor had to deal, was too virtuous,moderate, and cautious, to be caught in a snare so open. What did theynext, but turn his own moderation against him, and persuade othersthat--because he would not become the prey of wolves, he herded withthem for a share of their booty! And, while this base Lord Dalgarno wasthus undermining his unsuspecting countryman, he took every measureto keep him surrounded by creatures of his own, to prevent him fromattending Court, and mixing with those of his proper rank. Since theGunpowder Treason, there never was a conspiracy more deeply laid, morebasely and more deliberately pursued."
The lady smiled sadly at Margaret's vehemence, but sighed the nextmoment, while she told her young friend how little she knew the worldshe was about to live in, since she testified so much surprise atfinding it full of villainy.
"But by what means," she added, "could you, maiden, become possessed ofthe secret views of a man so cautious as Lord Dalgarno--as villains ingeneral are?"
"Permit me to be silent on that subject," said the maiden; "I could nottell you without betraying others--let it suffice that my tidings are ascertain as the means by which I acquired them are secret and sure. But Imust not tell them even to you."
"You are too bold, Margaret," said the lady, "to traffic in such mattersat your early age. It is not only dangerous, but even unbecoming andunmaidenly."
"I knew you would say that also," said Margaret, with more meekness andpatience than she usually showed on receiving reproof; "but, God knows,my heart acquits me of every other feeling save that of the wish toassist this most innocent and betrayed man.--I contrived to send himwarning of his friend's falsehood;--alas! my care has only hastened hisutter ruin, unless speedy aid be found. He charged his false friend withtreachery, and drew on him in the Park, and is now liable to the fatalpenalty due for breach of privilege of the king's palace."
"This is indeed an extraordinary tale," said Hermione; "is LordGlenvarloch then in prison?"
"No, madam, thank God, but in the Sanctuary at Whitefriars--it is matterof doubt whether it will protect him in such a case--they speak of awarrant from the Lord Chief Justice--A gentleman of the temple has beenarrested, and is in trouble for having assisted him in his flight.--Evenhis taking temporary refuge in that base place, though from extremenecessity, will be used to the further defaming him. All this I know,and yet I cannot rescue him--cannot rescue him save by your means."
"By my means, maiden?" said the lady--"you are beside yourself!--Whatmeans can I possess in this secluded situation, of assisting thisunfortunate nobleman?"
"You have means," said Margaret, eagerly; "you have those means, unlessI mistake greatly, which can do anything--can do everything, in thiscity, in this world--you have wealth, and the command of a small portionof it will enable me to extricate him from his present danger. He willbe enabled and directed how to make his escape--and I--" she paused.
"Will accompany him, doubtless, and reap the fruits of your sageexertions in his behalf?" said the Lady Hermione, ironically.
"May heaven forgive you the unjust thought, lady," answered Margaret."I will never see him more--but I shall have saved him, and the thoughtwill make me happy."
"A cold conclusion to so bold and warm a flame," said the lady, with asmile which seemed to intimate incredulity.
"It is, however, the only one which I expect, madam--I could almostsay the only one which I wish--I am sure I will use no efforts to bringabout any other; if I am bold in his cause, I am timorous enough in myown. During our only interview I was unable to speak a word to him. Heknows not the sound of my voice--and all that I have risked, and mustyet risk, I am doing for one, who, were he asked the question, would sayhe has long since forgotten that he ever saw, spoke to, or sat beside, acreature of so little signification as I am."
"This is a strange and unreasonable indulgence of a passion equallyfanciful and dangerous," said
Lady Hermione. "You will _not_ assist me,then?" said Margaret; "have good-day, then, madam--my secret, I trust,is safe in such honourable keeping."
"Tarry yet a little," said the lady, "and tell me what resource youhave to assist this youth, if you were supplied with money to put it inmotion."
"It is superfluous to ask me the question, madam," answered Margaret,"unless you purpose to assist me; and, if you do so purpose, it is stillsuperfluous. You could not understand the means I must use, and time istoo brief to explain."
"But have you in reality such means?" said the lady.
"I have, with the command of a moderate sum," answered Margaret Ramsay,"the power of baffling all his enemies--of eluding the passion ofthe irritated king--the colder but more determined displeasure of theprince--the vindictive spirit of Buckingham, so hastily directed againstwhomsoever crosses the path of his ambition--the cold concentratedmalice of Lord Dalgarno--all, I can baffle them all!"
"But is this to be done without your own personal risk, Margaret?"replied the lady; "for, be your purpose what it will, you are not toperil your own reputation or person, in the romantic attempt of servinganother; and I, maiden, am answerable to your godfather,--to yourbenefactor, and my own,--not to aid you in any dangerous or unworthyenterprise."
"Depend upon my word,--my oath,--dearest lady," replied the supplicant,"that I will act by the agency of others, and do not myself design tomingle in any enterprise in which my appearance might be either perilousor unwomanly."
"I know not what to do," said the Lady Hermione; "it is perhapsincautious and inconsiderate in me to aid so wild a project; yet the endseems honourable, if the means be sure--what is the penalty if he fallinto their power?"
"Alas, alas! the loss of his right hand!" replied Margaret, her voicealmost stifled with sobs.
"Are the laws of England so cruel? Then there is mercy in heaven alone,"said the lady, "since, even in this free land, men are wolves to eachother.--Compose yourself, Margaret, and tell me what money is necessaryto secure Lord Glenvarloch's escape."
"Two hundred pieces," replied Margaret; "I would speak to you ofrestoring them--and I must one day have the power--only that Iknow--that is, I think--your ladyship is indifferent on that score."
"Not a word more of it," said the lady; "call Monna Paula hither."