CHAPTER XXI.
When Iola and her fair cousin were gone, Lord Fulmer gazed for amoment from the window, with a thoughtful and absent look; and then,descending the steps, walked once or twice up and down the hall. Atlength, turning to Sir Edward Hungerford, he exclaimed:
"She is beautiful, indeed! Is she not, Hungerford?"
"Yes, exceedingly," replied the young knight; "although, methinks, theupper lip might be a trifle longer; but you would think her fairerstill if you beheld her as I first saw her, with a colour in hercheek, like that of the morning sky. Now, I know not why, she is aspale as one of those marble statues which we see at Rome."
"Emotion!" said Fulmer, thoughtfully. "Perhaps it was wrong to takeher thus, by surprise. Come, Hungerford, let us give these orders withwhich I am charged;" and, advancing to the door, he called for theattendants.
The orders were not so difficult to give as to execute; for theyimplied immediate preparation for the accommodation of at least twentyhonoured guests besides the usual inhabitants of the castle, togetherwith all their attendants, and for a splendid repast, to be ready forsupper at the unusually late hour of nine. Special directions wereadded, to prepare one of the numerous detached buildings, which werefrequently to be found within the walls of the fortified houses ofthose days, for the reception of the Lord Chartley and his train; anda portion of the immense range of stabling, which lay, strange to say,immediately at the back of the chapel, was to be set apart exclusivelyfor his horses. Sir Edward Hungerford listened in polite silence, tillFulmer had delivered himself of his commission to the chief officer ofLord Calverly's household; but he could not suffer the good man todepart, without putting in a word or two, as advice to the mastercook, concerning the dressing of cygnets, and the absolute necessityof immediately seeking a young heron of last year, or at least abittern, as heron poults were not to be obtained.
"Porpoises are hopeless," he said, "at this distance from the sea, andsquirrels in the spring are lean and poor; but, I have known a largeluce, quaintly stewed with lard, supply the place of the one, while aconey may do well instead of the other; only I fear me it is somewhatlate in the year."
The major domo bowed reverently at this discourse; and, as soon as hewas gone, Fulmer exclaimed: "Come, Hungerford, let us walk upon thebattlements, this sunshiny afternoon. Perchance these two fair girlsmay come down to breathe the air."
"Stay," replied Sir Edward Hungerford. "I will go and put on my greenand sable surcoat; if they see it, it may attract them."
"Pshaw!" cried Fulmer. "Do you think they are bulls, which, men say,will run after a piece of cloth of a particular colour?"
"Nay!" replied Hungerford, with perhaps a little spice of malice; "butthis surcoat of mine is, point for point, the very model ofChartley's."
"What has Chartley to do with the matter?" demanded Fulmer, turningfull upon him, with some surprise.
"It shall be on in a moment," replied Sir Edward, without answeringhis question. "I hate this orange tawny colour, though it be now wornby every one. It does not at all suit my complexion. 'Tis a sort ofjealousy colour. I will no more on't;" and away he went.
Lord Fulmer paced up and down the hall. "Her greeting was mightycold," he thought. "Well, perhaps 'twas natural; and yet 'twas lesstroubled than chilly. She seemed firm enough, but yet as icy as thegrave. What can this man mean about Chartley? Nothing, nothing. He hasno meaning in him. I wish her greeting had been somewhat warmer--andin his presence too. He smiled, when he talked of Chartley."
He had not time for any long meditations, for he was very soonrejoined by his friend, habited in the most extravagant extreme of themode, with the sleeves of his surcoat actually trailing on the groundwhen not fixed back to his shoulders by small loops of gold cord, andruby buttons. The two gentlemen then found their way to thebattlements, and walked round nearly their whole extent; Hungerfordlooking up, from time to time, at the principal masses of thebuilding, in the hopes of ascertaining, by seeing some sweet face at awindow, in what part of the castle Constance and her cousin werelodged. He said no more upon the subject of Iola and Chartley; andFulmer did not choose to inquire further, though, to say the truth,the mere casual words he had heard, implying in reality little ornothing, rested on his mind more than he wished. Wrapped up in thethoughts of his own glittering person, Sir Edward Hungerford walked onby his friend's side in silence, and might perhaps have said nothingmore for the next half hour, if Fulmer had not begun the conversationhimself. Of course, it was begun from a point quite different fromthat at which he proposed to arrive.
"This castle is pleasantly situated," he observed, "and commands allthe country round."
"Good faith, I like your own better," answered Sir Edward Hungerford."Sheltered as it is, by woods and higher hills than that on which itstands, you have no dread of north winds there. Here, let it blow fromeast, west, north or south, you meet with every gust of heaven that isgoing; and, unless a man's skin be as tough as a horse's hide, he willruin his complexion in a fortnight."
"I like it better," said Fulmer. "I love to have a free sight roundme, to look afar, and see what comes on every side, to catch the raysof the sun in their warmth, ay, and sometimes to give the sharp windbuffet for buffet. Were both mine, I should choose this for myresidence."
"Well, it will soon be yours," answered Sir Edward Hungerford; "for,I suppose your marriage is to take place speedily, and this old lordcannot live long. He is worn out with wisdom. You can then inhabitwhich you like. Every man has his tastes, Fulmer. Some, as you know,delight in orange tawny. I abominate the hue. You dislike your ownplace, and prefer Chidlow; I the reverse. You, doubtless, judge Iolathe most beautiful. I admire little Constance, with her thoughtfulbrow."
"Because you have no more thought yourself than would lie in the hemof a silk jerkin," replied Fulmer. "Yet, methinks she were too gravefor you."
"Nay! She can be merry enough when she is with those who please her,"replied Hungerford, with a self-satisfied nod of his head. "Thatpretty little mouth can dimple with smiles, I assure you."
"Why, how know you all this, Hungerford?" asked Fulmer, in as light atone as he could assume. "You seem to be wondrous well acquainted withthese ladies' characters."
"Ay, ay," replied Sir Edward, with a mysterious and yet laughing look."Constance and I passed that self same evening side by side; and, inone evening, a man may learn and teach a great deal."
"What evening?--What do you mean?" demanded Fulmer, sharply; but hiscompanion only laughed, replying:--
"Ha! ha! Now, I could make you jealous--but, hush! No more just now.Some one is coming; and look, here is a party riding up--there, overthat hill, upon the Leicester road."
The person who approached along the battlements was Lord Calverly'smaster of the household, come for some explanation from the younglord, whom he knew right well; and, while he spoke with Fulmer, SirEdward Hungerford threw himself into a graceful attitude by one of theembrasures, and fell into thought--ay, reader, even into thought; forhe was somewhat different in reality from that which he has hithertoappeared to you. I have only depicted him in certain scenes, andrecorded his sayings and doings therein; and, if you judge other men,in your actual commerce with the world, by such partial views, youwill make a great mistake--unless indeed you possess that instinct,the gift of few, which enables some to pierce through all the variousveils with which men cover themselves, and see their real charactersat once in their nakedness. Notwithstanding all the trifling, and thefoppery, and the folly of Sir Edward Hungerford, there was no lack ofbrain beneath that frivolous exterior. I do not mean to say that hisapparent tastes and pursuits were altogether assumed. He had a realfondness for splendour and delicacy of dress, for refinements incookery, and softness and smoothness of demeanour. He was inordinatelyvain too of his person; and these were certainly defects, ay, anddefects of intellect; for they showed a misappreciation of the worthof things; but, if you set down every fop for a fool, you will commitan egregious error. Every man has his wea
k point, they say, andfoppery is certainly a very great one; but there may be a many strongpoints behind, and such was the case with this young knight. He was aman of undoubted courage, notwithstanding all his care for his fineperson; by no means eager in quarrel, who could hear a jest, or ataunt, or even a reproach, with great patience, provided it did notbecome an insult; but then no one was more ready with his sword. Theman, in short, who wished to fight him, he was ever prepared to fight;but he never showed any of that assassin-like love of mere fighting,which has gained many a man, very unjustly, the reputation of greatcourage. Not, however, to make him appear better than he really was, Imust say a few words more upon his character. Though he could thinkdeeply, and sometimes well, upon any subject placed before him, yet hehad no value whatever for the power of thought. His great fault was amiscomprehension of what is precious and what is valueless in man; andthis affected his estimation of his own qualities as well as those ofothers. Whether from a strange but not unusual philosophy, he thoughtthe trifles of every day life more important to man's happiness, fromtheir frequent occurrence, than the weighty things of the heart andmind, or whether the mocking persiflage of the court in which he hadbeen brought up, had sunk, as it were, into his spirit, and made himlook upon all things equally as trifles, I cannot tell; but certainlyhe would have prided himself more upon the cut of a doublet, whichwould have secured a multitude of imitators, than upon the wisestsaying he could have uttered, or upon the profoundest reflections thatcould have passed through his mind. But this philosophy, or whateverit was, had its dangers and its evils. He looked upon morals with thesame distorted vision as upon all other matters; even laughed atrestraints which other men held sacred, and regarded every course ofconduct as perfectly indifferent, because all things were equallyempty and idle. To the punctilios of honour, as to the ceremonies ofreligion, he submitted with a good grace, merely because it was notworth while to contest them; and, if he did not injure a friend, orbetray a cause he had espoused, or violate his plighted word, it wasmerely--I will not say by accident--by some slight impression receivedin youth, which he would have scoffed at in his own mind, if any oneattempted to erect it into a principle. He seldom argued indeed, andnever combatted other men's opinions, because he thought it quite aswell that they should have them as not; and the only thing he thoughtit worth while to reason upon for five minutes was the fashion of apoint, or a cloak, the design of a piece of embroidery, or thecomposition of an essence. These matters indeed rose into someimportance with him; but the cause was, that he had talked himselfinto a vanity upon the subject, and other men had given value to hisdecisions by following them as law.
He thought then, while his companion was engaged in conversation; andhis mind rested naturally upon things which had just passed.
"How some men trouble themselves about vain fancies," he said tohimself. "Here is this good friend of mine would soon be in a flame ofjealousy, if he knew all; not considering how very foolish and unlikea gentleman it is to be jealous at all. It is quite a gone-by mode, afaded suit, since good King Edward's days, and is as bad as a paleyellow doublet with a crimson cloak. Yet this man would wear it, andmake himself as ridiculous as a Turk, with fifty wives, and jealous ofthem all. It would be amusing enough to see him, with all thewonderful graces of such a condition, now writhing like a saltimbank,yet grinning all the while to hide his pangs--then with a moody airwalking apart with crossed angry arms, and thundery brow, and nowaffecting the gay and jocular, and dealing blows right and left, underthe colour of sportive playfulness, only waiting to cut some one'sthroat, till he got the proof positive, which never comes. But I willnot do it. It is not worth the while. Trouble would grow out of it;and nothing on earth is worth trouble but a dish of lampreys or a pairof new-fashioned hosen.--They are coming on fast," he continued aloud,looking from the walls. "On my life I believe it is the old pompouslord coming at the full gallop as if he were following a falcon. Come,Fulmer, come; let us down to the gates. Here is that most honourablepeer, Arnold Lord Calverly, with two or three score in company, ridingas fast as if King Richard were behind him. Pray Heaven the goodnobleman's horse stumble not, or what a squelch there will be."
Thus saying, he began to descend one of those little flights of steps,which, in castles such as that of Chidlow, led from the battlementsinto the courtyard. Fulmer followed with a quick step; but the wordsof Sir Edward Hungerford had already planted doubts and apprehensions,which were not easily to be removed.