CHAPTER XXVI.
Had he been chief warder of a beleaguered fort, Lord Fulmer could nothave examined every gate and sally port of the castle more carefullythan he did, when he descended from the walls. The figure which he hadbeheld had evidently seemed to come from the castle; but how it hadissued forth he could not divine. Every postern was barred, bolted,and chained; and the porter, and the porter's men were all snoring intheir dens, of which he had ocular proof before he retired. The fatold porter, whom he had roused and informed of what he had seen,treated the matter lightly, saying, half sleeping, half waking, it wasimpossible: it must have been the moonlight on the bank, or a whitethorn coming into flower. But, when Fulmer reminded him that the monthof May was still far off, and told him he had seen the figure move forsome distance, he quietly replied--
"Then it must have been a spirit. There are plenty hereabout;" and,lying down on his pallet again, he was asleep before the youngnobleman had quited the lodge.
Fulmer almost felt inclined to believe that the porter's lastsupposition was correct, and that the music he had heard was a strainof unearthly melody. Perhaps there have been few ages in the world'shistory more grossly superstitious than those which immediatelypreceded the reformation. The process of darkening the human mind, bywhich alone the errors of the church of Rome can be maintained, hadbeen going on for so many centuries, that it had almost reachedcompleteness; and the art of printing, the precursor of Luther, hadnot yet fulfilled its mission; and though here and there a few greatminds were to be found which shook off the garment of superstitionwith which the papal church had liveried the world--though Wicliffeand John Huss had given the first terrible blow to Rome, yet herpartizans laboured but the more strenuously to retain for her theshadowy empire she had created. At this very time new saints weremade, and their days appointed to be honoured; and the festivals ofold saints were, in many instances, ordered to receive doublecelebration. In England, especially, every false, abominable, andidolatrous dogma was more sternly and clearly defined, in order toprevent the escape of the Wicliffites through any ambiguity oflanguage. It was solemnly declared that not one particle of thesacramental bread remained bread after consecration, that every dropof the cup was blood. Pilgrimages, the worship of saints, theadoration of the cross and of relics, were enjoined under the penaltyof fire; and everything that could lead or tend to superstition wasencouraged and upheld. Taught to believe so much of the supernaturalwithin the church, it is not wonderful that the great mass of thepeople, high and low, should believe in much of the supernaturalbeyond the church, and that the priest should encourage them in sodoing.
Nevertheless, Lord Fulmer was by no means one of the mostsuperstitious of his class. To doubt the occasional apparition ofspirits, or even devils, he would not have ventured; but to believethat he had seen one was very different; and, not knowing what tothink, or what solution to give to the mystery, he retired to hischamber, and lay down to rest. Sleep did not visit his eyes for somehours; but still he rose early, roused his attendants in theantechamber, and dressed for the day. He then gazed forth from thewindow for a moment or two; but, as something passed before his eyes,he turned round with a sudden start, and a flushed cheek, and wentout.
He passed quickly, through the courts, towards the walls; but, at thefoot of the steps, he paused and thought, for a moment or two, andthen mounted to the battlements with a slower step and more tranquilair.
About fifty yards in advance was Chartley, the man he sought, walkingtranquilly towards him, with his arms folded on his chest, and hiseyes bent down in meditation. They were now alone together on thewalls; and Fulmer thought that there could be no better time forsaying what he proposed to say than that moment. His mood, however,had varied from that of the night before; and, at first, he addressedLord Chartley courteously enough.
"Good morning, my lord," he said "Summer is coming on us with aswallow's wing;" and he turned to walk back with his companion.
"It is indeed very warm," answered Chartley, mildly; "and the air hereseems temperate and fine."
There the conversation halted for a moment, for Lord Fulmer made noanswer, and walked on in silence, till they had nearly reached theangle of the wall. There was a struggle going on within--a strugglefor calmness; for he felt agitation growing upon him.
At length, however, he said--
"I find, my lord, that you are well acquainted with the Lady Iola St.Leger, and that you rendered her some service a little time ago."
"Service of no great importance," replied Chantey; "and which anygentleman would render to any lady."
"You are, I suppose, aware that she is contracted to me as my futurewife," said Lord Fulmer, turning his eyes full upon Chartley's face.
"I was not aware of it at the time," answered Chartley, holding hishead very high. "I am now."
"That near connexion," continued Fulmer, "not only gives me a right,but requires me, my good lord, to inquire into the nature of theservice that you rendered her, that I may"--he added with a sort ofsarcastic smile, "that I may proportion my thanks to its degree."
"I require no thanks," answered Chartley, coldly. "Of what is requiredof you, my lord, I am no judge. Your right to make the inquiry, I amnot called upon to consider; and the lady herself will doubtless giveyou what information she thinks fit upon the subject."
Fulmer strove to put down the wrath which was rising up in his bosom;but yet there was a great degree of sharpness in his tone as hereplied--
"My right to make the inquiry, my good lord, you are called upon toconsider; for I make that inquiry of you."
"Then I refuse to answer it," replied Chartley. "If a gentleman haverendered a lady service in any way, it is not his business to speak ofit. She may do so, if she thinks proper but his part is different."
"Then, my lord," replied Fulmer, "if you give me not account in oneway, you must in another;" and he set his teeth hard, as if to keepdown the more violent words which were ready to spring to his lips.
Chartley laughed.
"On my life," he said, "this is the strangest sort of gratitude whichit has been my lot to meet with in this wonderful world! Here is a mancomes to give me thanks, and then calls me to a rude account, becauseI will not tell him why! What is the meaning of all this, my lord?Your strange conduct certainly requires explanation--far more than anypart of mine, which has always been very open and simple."
"Oh, if you think it requires explanation," exclaimed Lord Fulmer,readily, "I am quite ready to yield it, after the fashion that Ihinted."
"Is that a worthy answer, Lord Fulmer?" demanded Chartley. "You seemdetermined to find cause of quarrel with me, and can meet with no morereasonable pretext than that I once did some slight service to a ladyaffianced to you."
"Exactly so," replied Lord Fulmer, dryly.
"Well, then," cried Chartley, tossing back his head, "I answer, I willnot quarrel with you on such ground. Charge me fairly--accuse me ofany wrong that I have done you, or any mortal man, or woman either,and I will either clear myself or make reparation with my person atthe sword's point; but I will not bring a lady's name in question, byquarrelling with any man on such a plea as this you bring. If you haveaught to say against me, say it boldly."
"Have you not already brought her name in question, by passing onewhole night with her in the woods of Atherston?" demanded Fulmer,sternly. "Have you not made it a matter of light talk with lightertongues--"
"Stay, stay!" exclaimed Chartley, "I do not rightly understand you. Doyou mean to say that I ever have lightly used that lady's name--that Ihave ever made it the subject of my conversation at all?"
"No," answered Fulmer, gravely. "That I cannot say; but I aver thatyou have given occasion for its being talked of by others, inremaining with her one whole night, as I have said, in the woods ofAtherston."
Chartley laughed again.
"He would have had me leave her to her fate, in the midst of thewood!" he exclaimed; "or else have had her fall into the hands ofCatesby's rude sol
diery, or the ruffian mercenaries of Sir JohnGodscroft, who were, even at the moment I met her, daintily engaged inburning down the buildings on the abbey green! By St. Peter, the manseems to have a rare notion of courtesy towards a lady! Let me tellyou, Lord Fulmer, that had I left her, she must have encountered thosewho would have treated her somewhat more roughly than I did. Stay,stay, a moment. I have not yet done. You say that I have givenoccasion for people to talk lightly of her. Give me the name of onewho has dared, even by a word, to couple her name to mine in aughtthat is not pure--ay, even in a jest--and I will make him eat hiswords or send him to the devil a day before his time."
Fulmer gazed down upon the ground in moody silence. "There may bewords," he said at length, "which, separate from the tone and manner,imply but little, but which, eked out with nods and smiles andtwinklings of the eye, would go far to blast the fairest reputation.In a word, Lord Chartley, I will not have it said, that the woman Imake my wife has passed the whole night alone, in a wild wood, withany living man."
"Then do not make her your wife," answered Chartley. "That is easilysettled."
"There is another way of settling it," replied Lord Fulmer, bitterly,"by cutting the throat of him who has done so with her."
"So, so, are you there?" answered Chartley, now made angry, in spiteof himself.
"If such be the case, my lord, I will not baulk you. I might refuseyour appeal, as a prisoner in ward. I might refuse it, as having noreasonable grounds; but I will not do so; and satisfaction you shallhave of the kind you demand; for no earthly man shall say I fearedhim. But this, my good lord, is not without a condition. It shall befully and entirely known, how and why you have forced me to this--whatis the quarrel you have fixed upon me--and why I have consented. Allthis shall be clearly stated and proclaimed, for my own character'ssake. This I have a right to demand."
"But the lady's fair name!" exclaimed Fulmer, alarmed at thecondition.
"Who is it that blackens it?" demanded Chartley, fiercely. "Not I, butyou, Lord Fulmer. I proclaim her pure, and good, and true, to you, tome, and all men; and you, if any one, shall stand forth as hercalumniator, in forcing this unjust quarrel upon me. I cast theresponsibility upon you; and now I leave you."
"Stay, sir, stay," exclaimed Fulmer, driven almost to fury. "You havecalled me calumniator; and you shall answer for that word, or I willbrand you as a coward in every court of Europe."
"Methinks you would get but few to believe you," replied Chartley,proudly; "but let me tell you, if you dare venture to use that term tome, before any competent witnesses, I will punish you on the spot asyou deserve. You think, my lord, by taking me here in private, togratify your malice while you conceal your own weakness, and to leave,perhaps, the blame upon me; but you are mistaken, if you think youhave to do with a feeble-minded and passionate boy like yourself."
Fulmer lost all command over himself; and drawing his sword at once,though close before the castle windows, he exclaimed, "Draw! I willbear no more."
But Chartley was comparatively cool, while his adversary was blindwith passion; and, springing upon him with a bound, he put aside theraised point with his hand, and wrenched the sword from his grasp,receiving a slight wound in doing so. Then, holding his adversary in afirm grasp, he cast the weapon from him over the castle wall.
"For shame," he said, after a moment's pause, "for shame, Lord FulmerGo back, sir, to the castle; and, if you have those honourablefeelings, those somewhat fantastic and imaginative notions, which Ihave heard attributed to you, think over your own conduct thismorning--ay, think over the doubts and suspicions, unjust, and base,and false as they are, in which such conduct has arisen, and feelshame for both. I am not apt to be a vain man; but when I scan my ownbehaviour in the events which have given rise to all this rancour onyour part, and compare it with your conduct now, I feel there is animmeasurable distance between us; and I regret, for that sweet lady'ssake, that she is bound by such ties to such a man."
"You have the advantage, my lord, you have the advantage," repeatedFulmer, doggedly. "The time may come when it will be on my part."
"I think not," answered Chartley, with one of his light laughs; "forwe are told God defends the right, and I will never do you wrong."
Thus saying, he turned upon his heel, descended the steps, and walkedback into the castle.
Fulmer followed with a slow and sullen step, his eyes bent down uponthe ground, and his lips, from time to time, moving. He felt all thathad occurred the more bitterly, as he was conscious that it was hisown fault. He might feel angry with Chartley; his pride might bebitterly mortified; he might have every inclination to cast the blameupon others; but there was one fact he could not get over, one truth,which, at the very first, carried self-censure home. He had violatedall his own resolutions; he had given way to passion, when he hadresolved to be calm and cool; and this conviction, perhaps, led himsome steps on the path of regret for his whole conduct. At all events,passing through his ante-room without speaking to any of his servants,he entered his own chamber, and cast himself down upon a seat, toscrutinize the acts he had committed.