CHAPTER VIII. THE OLD WOMAN TALKS OF SORROWS, THE YOUNG WOMAN DREAMSOF LOVE; THE COURTIER FLIES FROM PRESENT POWER TO REMEMBRANCES OF PASTHOPES, AND THE WORLD-BETTERED OPENS UTOPIA, WITH A VIEW OF THE GIBBETFOR THE SILLY SAGE HE HAS SEDUCED INTO HIS SCHEMES,--SO, EVER ANDEVERMORE, RUNS THE WORLD AWAY!
The old lady looked up from her embroidery-frame, as Sibyll sat musingon a stool before her; she scanned the maiden with a wistful andsomewhat melancholy eye.
"Fair girl," she said, breaking a silence that had lasted for somemoments, "it seems to me that I have seen thy face before. Wert thounever in Queen Margaret's court?"
"In childhood, yes, lady."
"Do you not remember me, the dame of Longueville?" Sibyll started insurprise, and gazed long before she recognized the features of herhostess; for the dame of Longueville had been still, when Sibyll wasa child at the court, renowned for matronly beauty, and the changewas greater than the lapse of years could account for. The lady smiledsadly: "Yes, you marvel to see me thus bent and faded. Maiden, I lost myhusband at the battle of St. Alban's, and my three sons in the field ofTowton. My lands and my wealth have been confiscated to enrich new men;and to one of them--one of the enemies of the only king whom Alice deLongueville will acknowledge--I owe the food for my board and the rooffor my head. Do you marvel now that I am so changed?"
Sibyll rose and kissed the lady's hand, and the tear that sparkled onits surface was her only answer.
"I learn," said the dame of Longueville, "that your father has an orderfrom the Lord Hastings to see King Henry. I trust that he will rest hereas he returns, to tell me how the monarch-saint bears his afflictions.But I know: his example should console us all." She paused a moment, andresumed, "Sees your father much of the Lord Hastings?"
"He never saw him that I weet of," answered Sibyll, blushing; "the orderwas given, but as of usual form to a learned scholar."
"But given to whom?" persisted the lady. "To--to me," replied Sibyll,falteringly. The dame of Longueville smiled.
"Ah, Hastings could scarcely say no to a prayer from such rosy lips. Butlet me not imply aught to disparage his humane and gracious heart. ToLord Hastings, next to God and his saints, I owe all that is left tome on earth. Strange that he is not yet here! This is the usual day andhour on which he comes, from pomp and pleasurement, to visit the lonelywidow." And, pleased to find an attentive listener to her gratefulloquacity, the dame then proceeded, with warm eulogies upon herprotector, to inform Sibyll that her husband had, in the first outbreakof the Civil War, chanced to capture Hastings, and, moved by his valourand youth, and some old connections with his father, Sir Leonard, hadfavoured his escape from the certain death that awaited him from thewrath of the relentless Margaret. After the field of Towton, Hastingshad accepted one of the manors confiscated from the attainted House ofLongueville, solely that he might restore it to the widow of thefallen lord; and with a chivalrous consideration, not contented withbeneficence, he omitted no occasion to show to the noblewoman whateverhomage and respect might soothe the pride, which, in the poverty ofthose who have been great, becomes disease. The loyalty of the LadyLongueville was carried to a sentiment most rare in that day, and ratherresembling the devotion inspired by the later Stuarts. She made her homewithin the precincts of the Tower, that, morning and eve, when Henryopened his lattice to greet the rising and the setting sun, she mightcatch a dim and distant glance of the captive king, or animate, by thatsad sight, the hopes and courage of the Lancastrian emissaries, to whom,fearless of danger, she scrupled not to give counsel, and, at need,asylum.
While Sibyll, with enchanted sense, was listening to the praise ofHastings, a low knock at the door was succeeded by the entrance of thatnobleman himself. Not to Elizabeth, in the alcoves of Shene, or onthe dais of the palace hall, did the graceful courtier bend with morerespectful reverence than to the powerless widow, whose very bread washis alms; for the true high-breeding of chivalry exists not withoutdelicacy of feeling, formed originally by warmth of heart; and thoughthe warmth may lose its glow, the delicacy endures, as the steel thatacquires through heat its polish retains its lustre, even when the shinebut betrays the hardness.
"And how fares my noble lady of Longueville? But need I ask? for hercheek still wears the rose of Lancaster. A companion? Ha! MistressWarner, I learn now how much pleasure exists in surprise!"
"My young visitor," said the dame, "is but an old friend; she was one ofthe child-maidens reared at the court of Queen Margaret."
"In sooth!" exclaimed Hastings; and then, in an altered tone, he added,"but I should have guessed so much grace had not come all from Nature.And your father has gone to see the Lord Henry, and you rest, here,his return? Ah, noble lady, may you harbour always such innocentLancastrians!" The fascinations of this eminent person's voice andmanner were such that they soon restored Sibyll, to the ease she hadlost at his sudden entrance. He conversed gayly with the old dame uponsuch matters of court anecdote as in all the changes of state were stillwelcome to one so long accustomed to court air; but from time to timehe addressed himself to Sibyll, and provoked replies which startledherself--for she was not yet well aware of her own gifts--by theirspirit and intelligence.
"You do not tell us," said the Lady Longueville, sarcastically, "of thehappy spousailles of Elizabeth's brother with the Duchess of Norfolk,--abachelor of twenty, a bride of some eighty-two. [The old chroniclerjustly calls this a "diabolical marriage." It greatly roused the wrathof the nobles and indeed of all honourable men, as a proof of theshameless avarice of the queen's family.] Verily, these alliances arenew things in the history of English royalty. But when Edward, who, evenif not a rightful king, is at least a born Plantagenet, condescended tomarry Mistress Elizabeth, a born Woodville, scarce of good gentleman'sblood, naught else seems strange enough to provoke marvel."
"As to the last matter," returned Hastings, gravely, "though her gracethe queen be no warm friend to me, I must needs become her champion andthe king's. The lady who refused the dishonouring suit of the fairestprince and the boldest knight in the Christian world thereby madeherself worthy of the suit that honoured her; it was not ElizabethWoodville alone that won the purple. On the day she mounted a throne,the chastity of woman herself was crowned."
"What!" said the Lady Longueville, angrily, "mean you to say that thereis no disgrace in the mal-alliance of kite and falcon, of Plantagenetand Woodville, of high-born and mud-descended?"
"You forget, lady, that the widow of Henry the Fifth, Catherine ofValois, a king's daughter, married the Welsh soldier, Owen Tudor; thatall England teems with brave men born from similar spousailles, wherelove has levelled all distinctions, and made a purer hearth, and raiseda bolder offspring, than the lukewarm likings of hearts that beat butfor lands and gold. Wherefore, lady, appeal not to me, a squire ofdames, a believer in the old Parliament of Love; whoever is fair andchaste, gentle and loving, is, in the eyes of William de Hastings, themate and equal of a king!"
Sibyll turned involuntarily as the courtier spoke thus, with animationin his voice, and fire in his eyes; she turned, and her breath camequick; she turned, and her look met his, and those words and that looksank deep into her heart; they called forth brilliant and ambitiousdreams; they rooted the growing love, but they aided to make it holy;they gave to the delicious fancy what before it had not paused, on itswing, to sigh for; they gave it that without which all fancy sooner orlater dies; they gave it that which, once received in a noble heart, isthe excuse for untiring faith; they gave it,--HOPE!
"And thou wouldst say," replied the lady of Longueville, with a meaningsmile, still more emphatically--"thou wouldst say that a youth, braveand well nurtured, ambitious and loving, ought, in the eyes of rank andpride, to be the mate and equal of--"
"Ah, noble dame," interrupted Hastings, quickly, "I must not prolongencounter with so sharp a wit. Let me leave that answer to this fairmaiden, for by rights it is a challenge to her sex, not to mine."
"How say you, then, Mistress Warner?" said the dame. "Supp
ose a youngheiress, of the loftiest birth, of the broadest lands, of the comeliestform--suppose her wooed by a gentleman poor and stationless, but witha mighty soul, born to achieve greatness, would she lower herself byhearkening to his suit?"
"A maiden, methinks," answered Sibyll, with reluctant but charminghesitation, "cannot love truly if she love unworthily; and if she loveworthily, it is not rank nor wealth she loves."
"But her parents, sweet mistress, may deem differently; and should nother love refuse submission to their tyranny?" asked Hastings.
"Nay, good my lord, nay," returned Sibyll, shaking her head withthoughtful demureness. "Surely the wooer, if he love worthily, will notpress her to the curse of a child's disobedience and a parent's wrath!"
"Shrewdly answered," said the dame of Longueville. "Then she wouldrenounce the poor gentleman if the parent ordain her to marry a richlord. Ah, you hesitate, for a woman's ambition is pleased with theexcuse of a child's obedience."
Hastings said this so bitterly that Sibyll could not but perceive thatsome personal feeling gave significance to his words. Yet how could theybe applied to him,--to one now in rank and repute equal to the highestbelow the throne?
"If the demoiselle should so choose," said the dame of Longueville, "itseemeth to me that the rejected suitor might find it facile to disdainand to forget."
Hastings made no reply; but that remarkable and deep shade of melancholywhich sometimes in his gayest hours startled those who beheld it, andwhich had, perhaps, induced many of the prophecies that circulated asto the untimely and violent death that should close his bright career,gathered like a cloud over his brow. At this moment the door openedgently, and Robert Hilyard stood at the aperture. He was clad in thedress of a friar, but the raised cowl showed his features to the lady ofLongueville, to whom alone he was visible; and those bold features wereliterally haggard with agitation and alarm. He lifted his finger to hislips, and motioning the lady to follow him, closed the door.
The dame of Longueville rose, and praying her visitors to excuse herabsence for a few moments, she left Hastings and Sibyll to themselves.
"Lady," said Hilyard, in a hollow whisper, as soon as the dame appearedin the low hall, communicating on the one hand with the room just left,on the other with the street, "I fear all will be detected. Hush!Adam and the iron coffer that contains the precious papers have beenconducted to Edward's presence. A terrible explosion, possibly connectedwith the contrivance, caused such confusion among the guards that Hughescaped to scare me with his news. Stationed near the gate in thisdisguise, I ventured to enter the courtyard, and saw--saw--theTORMENTOR! the torturer, the hideous, masked minister of agony, ledtowards the chambers in which our hapless messenger is examined by theruthless tyrants. Gloucester, the lynx-eyed mannikin, is there!"
"O Margaret, my queen," exclaimed the lady of Longueville, "the paperswill reveal her whereabout."
"No, she is safe!" returned Hilyard; "but thy poor scholar, I tremblefor him, and for the heads of all whom the papers name."
"What can be done! Ha! Lord Hastings is here,--he is ever humane andpitiful. Dare we confide in him?"
A bright gleam shot over Hilyard's face. "Yes, yes; let me confer withhim alone. I wait him here,--quick!" The lady hastened back. Hastingswas conversing in a low voice with Sibyll. The dame of Longuevillewhispered in the courtier's ear, drew him into the hall, and left himalone with the false friar, who had drawn the cowl over his face.
"Lord Hastings," said Hilyard, speaking rapidly, "you are in danger,if not of loss of life, of loss of favour. You gave a passport toone Warner to see the ex-king Henry. Warner's simplicity (for he isinnocent) hath been duped,--he is made the bearer of secret intelligencefrom the unhappy gentlemen who still cling to the Lancaster cause. He issuspected, he is examined; he may be questioned by the torture. If thetreason be discovered, it was thy hand that signed the passport; thequeen, thou knowest, hates thee, the Woodvilles thirst for thy downfall.What handle may this give them! Fly! my lord,--fly to the Tower; thoumayst yet be in time; thy wit can screen all that may otherwise be bare.Save this poor scholar, conceal this correspondence. Hark ye, lord!frown not so haughtily,--that correspondence names thee as one who hasttaken the gold of Count Charolois, and whom, therefore, King Louis mayoutbuy. Look to thyself!"
A slight blush passed over the pale brow of the great statesman, but heanswered with a steady voice, "Friar or layman, I care not which, thegold of the heir of Burgundy was a gift, not a bribe. But I need nothreats to save, if not too late, from rack and gibbet the life of aguiltless man. I am gone. Hold! bid the maiden, the scholar's daughter,follow me to the Tower."