CHAPTER XXVII.
Let us return to the close of supper on the preceding night. Theabbess and her two fair nieces, with some other ladies who had beencongregated in the castle, retired, first, to a little hall, abovethat where they had supped, and then, after a short conversation,separated into various parties, and sought the chambers where theywere to take repose. Iola, Constance, and their aunt, retired to thebed-room of the former, before they parted for the night, and sat andtalked for a few minutes in a calm tone.
"My dear child, you look sad," said the abbess; "has any thing vexedyou?"
"No, dear aunt, nothing more than usual," answered Iola, forcing alaugh. "I suppose a man may be merry enough, when he knows he is to behanged at the end of a year; but the case alters when he finds himselfat the day before the hanging."
"A hang dog simile, my child," said the abbess. "But fie, Iola, putaway such thoughts. Marriage is an honourable state, though it lacksthe sanctity of devotion; and I doubt not it is a very comfortablecondition, though, good lack, I have never tried it, and never shallnow;" and she laughed a little at the thought. "Well, well, methinksyou ought to be content," she continued; "for, certainly he is a veryfair and handsome young man."
"Is he?" said Iola, in an indifferent tone. "I thought he was dark."
"Well, his hair and eyes are dark," replied her aunt, "and his skinsomewhat brownish; but what I meant was, that he is good-looking andmanly. I do not think your fair men, with pink cheeks, handsome for mypart, though I take but little heed to men's beauty--why should I?However, I say he is as handsome a young man for a husband as womanwould wish to choose."
"I must have him for a husband whether I choose or not," answeredIola; "so, handsome or ugly, it comes to the same."
Constance thought for a moment, and then said, in a quiet tone, "I donot think he is so handsome as Lord Chartley;" and she gave a quickglance towards her cousin's face as she spoke.
Iola's cheek was crimson in a moment, but she said nothing; and theabbess exclaimed gaily, "Oh, this world, this world. I see it willsteal your heart away from us, Constance. No more vows and veils foryou now. Well, do as you like, my child. I have found a convent life avery happy one--perhaps, because there was no choice, and I resolvedto make the best of it; and, if Iola would take her aunt's advice, shewould look upon marriage as much the same, and make the best of ittoo."
With this piece of exceeding good counsel, the worthy lady rose andleft her two fair companions; and, no sooner was she gone, thanConstance moved closer to her cousin, and, laying her hand uponIola's, looked tenderly into her face.
"Give me your heart, Iola," she said. "You have withdrawn yourconfidence from me, and your heart must have gone with it."
Iola bent down her forehead on her cousin's shoulder, and wept withoutreply.
"Nay, dear cousin," continued Constance, "if not for my sake--if notfor old affection's sake, and for love, which, unlike the love of theworld, can never weary or wax old--for your own sake, give me yourconfidence as in days of yore. Tell me your heart's feelings and yourmind's thoughts; for, be sure that there are few, if any, situationsin life, in which counsel cannot bring comfort."
"I will, I will, Constance," said Iola, wiping away the tears. "Thesefoolish drops," she continued, "spring but from a momentary weakness,my Constance. I have borne up and struggled hard till now. It iskindness that shakes me."
"But then tell me," said her cousin, "tell me whence they spring,Iola. I see you are unhappy--miserable. I would fain help you, or, atleast, console you; but I know not how."
"What would you have, dear Constance?" said Iola, mournfully. "Youmust see it--I love him not--I can never love him; and yet in a fewdays, I know not how soon, I must vow at the altar to love him forever. Is not that a hard fate, dear Constance?"
"It might be worse," answered Constance. "How worse?" demanded Iola insurprise. "If you loved another," said her cousin, slowly andsorrowfully.
Again the crimson glow spread over Iola's brow and cheek, followed bya warm gush of tears; but Constance twined her arms round her saying:
"I have your secret now, dear Iola. That is over. Let us speak freelyof all things. But first, for some comfort--though it be but areprieve. My uncle told me, just before supper, that the king'sconsent to the celebration of the marriage has not been obtained; thatRichard begs him to delay, till he and the queen can be present. Itmay be long first; for poor queen Ann, they declare, is gone mad uponthe death of the prince. It must be some months; for they cannot bepresent at a marriage in mourning. But, what is very strange, my uncleseemed well satisfied with the delay."
Iola sat and gazed at her as she spoke, with a look of wonder, as ifthe tidings were so unexpected and incredible, even to hope, that shecould hardly comprehend what she heard. The next instant, however, shestarted up and clapped her hands with a look of childlike joy.
"A reprieve!" she cried. "Oh, it is everything. It is everything. Itis comfort. It is life. It is hope!" and then, casting herself uponher cousin's neck, she wept again, sobbing as if her heart wouldbreak.
Constance tried to calm her, but her words seemed not to reach Iola'smind; for, when the tears had had their way, she sprang up, claspingher hands again, and crying, with the same radiant look, "Months, didyou say? Oh, moments were a blessing--who can tell what months maybring forth? They have sometimes swept away empires. Now, we shallhave time to think, and speak, and act. Before, I thought it wasuseless to take counsel even with you, dear Constance; for what couldcounsel avail, when the event was hurrying on with such terriblerapidity. It seemed like one of those mountains of snow, which I haveheard of, falling in the Alps, where, though they be seen thunderingdown, 'tis vain to fly, or move, or think; for their coming is toorapid, their extent too wide; and all that remains is to call upon thename of God and die."
"Good Heaven, what an image!" exclaimed Constance; "and have youreally suffered all this, my poor Iola?--But now tell me what haspassed between you and Lord Chartley?"
"Nothing," replied Iola; and, be it remarked that, at every word sheuttered, her spirits seemed to revive more and more, as if nothing butthe intolerable burden which had been cast upon them had been able tokeep them down, and that, as soon as it was removed, they sprang upagain fresher than ever. "Nothing at all, but what I have told you,dear Constance. For the world, I would not have told you a falsehood."
"Then, nothing has been said to make you think he loves you as youlove him!" asked Constance.
Iola blushed a little, and looked down; but, there was an expressionof arch meaning about her smiling lips; and she replied:--
"Nothing has been said, it is true, dear Constance; but a good dealhas been looked. How the tone, how the eyes change the whole meaningof cold words: I have not loved, unbeloved, I hope--I trust--Ibelieve. Men are deceivers, you will say, and in nought more deceitfulthan their looks. Perhaps you will tell me too that Chartley, thisvery night, was gay and joyful, that he laughed and talked with thosearound him, not at all like a disappointed lover. But he was notjoyful at his heart, Constance. I watched and saw it all. I saw thatthe laugh was forced, the merriment unreal. I marked the sudden fit ofthought, the gloomy look that chequered the smile, the head held high,and the curling lip which scorned the words the tongue uttered."
"Alas, that you should have watched so closely," answered Constance;and, after a moment's thought, she added; "but, as we are to haveconfidence in each other, dear Iola, I must feign nothing with you;and I do believe that it is as you say. Nay, more. There is another,who knows him better than I do, who thinks so too."
"Who? Who?" demanded Iola, eagerly.
"None other than good Sir William Arden," answered Constance; and shewent on to give her cousin a sketch of the conversation which hadtaken place between herself and her companion at supper.
"I saw you talking very busily," replied Iola, with a smile; "but intruth, dear Constance, I almost fancied you and the good knight hadbetter subjects of conversation than the fate of Iola
and Chartley.Well, thank Heaven, we have got another in the plot, who can give usgood help too, in the hour of need, perhaps."
"A plot!" said Constance, with a look of apprehension. "What plot doyou intend to form, Iola?"
"Now she is frightened out of her wits!" cried Iola, laughing asmerrily as ever. "No plot, dearest cousin. I spoke in my wild way, andgave it a wild name. Only this, Constance, be sure of, that if therebe a means of escape--and what may not this respite produce--I willnot give my hand to Lord Fulmer--no, even though a convent should bemy only refuge, though Heaven knows, thinking as I think, that wouldbe bad enough."
"Thinking as you think--I do not understand what you mean, Iola," saidher cousin in some surprise.
Iola thought gravely for a moment or two, before she spoke; but atlength she replied:
"Perhaps I am not so devout as you are, Constance, and yet, in somethings more devout. There is another enigma for you; but I know aconvent would not suit me. You will say, I seemed happy enough in one;but yet I have come to the belief that they are not truly holy or goodinstitutions. To take the vows I should have to take, were I to enterone, to live according to all the rules and ordinances, to go throughall the ceremonies, and to make all the professions, I should be ahypocrite, Constance. But to marry this Lord Fulmer, to vow that Iwill love him when I love another, would make me worse than ahypocrite."
Constance gazed at her with a bewildered look; for, though her wordswere not very plain, yet they created doubts.
"I do not know what to think of your language, Iola," she answered."Holy men, fathers of the church, successors of the apostles, havefounded convents, and blessed them. Surely they cannot be evilinstitutions with such a sanction."
Iola laughed, seeming not inclined to grapple with the question; andthen, with a playful gesture of the hand, she asked abruptly--
"Would you like now, now as you sit here, to devote yourself for lifeto one of them?"
"That is not a fair question," answered Constance, with a blush and asmile; "but now, let us think, Iola, of what must be your conductbetween these two men. To one you are bound by a contract, valid itseems in the eye of the law, and from which you cannot escape,although it was entered into when you had no power to assent or torefuse. To the other you are linked by ties of affection, which areeven less easily broken, I do believe."
"Most mathematically put, dear cousin," answered Iola, in her old gaytone; "but yet I can hardly reply. I must seek advice of some one whoknows more of the world's ways than either you or I do."
"My aunt?" suggested Constance. "She will say, there is but one thingto be done--to yield, and make the best of it."
"No, no. Not to her will I apply," said Iola. "Of the world's ways,dear Constance, of its laws and rules, she knows but little--hardlymore than we do. She can deal with foresters and bailiffs, sell timberor wheat, collect the abbey dues, regulate its expenses, rule her nunswisely, though not strictly, and make devotion cheerful, withoutdepriving it of reverence; but there is a wide, wide circle beyond allthis, of which she knows nothing--nor I either, but that it exists."
"Then to whom can you apply?" asked Constance; and Iola, rising, laidher hands upon her cousin's, with a grave smile.
"I will apply to one who will advise me well," she said; "but here,dearest Constance, I must--however unwillingly--hold back a part of myconfidence from you. Were it my own alone, you should have it all,fully and at once; but there is another, whose confidence I must notbreak. Rest satisfied with this, that, as far as Chartley and I areconcerned, every secret of my heart, every act that I perform,propose, or think of, shall be told to you at once. You shall see intomy breast, as if it were your own."
"But yet there will be one dark spot," said Constance, almostreproachfully.
"Not concerning myself," answered Iola. "I tell you I am going to seekadvice. What that advice is, you shall know. Where I ask it, who givesit, you must not know. This shall be the only reserve."
"And you will not act in anything without speaking to me?" askedConstance anxiously.
"Certainly not," replied Iola; "but, you must promise in return,Constance, that my confidence will never be violated, that no notionswhich you may have imbibed of duty or propriety, or anything else onearth--no, not of religion itself--shall make you ever betray to manor woman that which I shall tell you."
Constance seemed to hesitate; and Iola added, firmly, but sadly--
"You must promise, Constance, or there can be no confidence. My heartmust hide itself from you, as from the rest of the world, unless Iknow that its secrets are as safe with you as with myself. Will youpromise, without any reservation, remembering, that I shall look uponno consideration of 'my own good,' as it is called, as an excuse foryour violating that engagement. I know you will keep your promise whenyou have given it."
"Assuredly I will," replied Constance; and, after a moment's thought,she added; "and I will give the promise too, Iola. If I did not, youcould easily withhold your confidence from me; and I do think that itwill be better for you to have some one, of whose love you can have nodoubt, to consult with and rely on. Remember I do not know and cannotdivine who this secret adviser is, nor how he or she should havefollowed you hither, to give you counsel on any sudden occasion.Surely you would not rely upon your maid, in preference to yourcousin."
Iola laughed gaily.
"Nay, Heaven forbid," she cried, waving her hand. "Besides, what knowsshe of the world? Poor Susan's utmost experience reaches but to know,that Harry Smith, the abbey gardener's son, bought her pink ribbons atTamworth fair, and asked her to marry him at Shrovetide next. No, no,dear Constance. All my confidence you shall have--that is to say, allmy own. I will only keep from you the confidence of others; and nowyour promise is given, is it not--fully and without reservation?"
"It is," answered Constance. "I know you have always hated thatdoctrine of mental reservation, and called it unchristian anduncandid. I do not like it, and will never act upon it, though verygood men say that it is sometimes needful."
"Fie on them!" cried Iola, warmly. "Those who would teach that wouldteach any other kind of falsehood. But now, my own dear cousin, nowfor a petition. Will you help your Iola to seek this advice?"
"How can I help you? What would you have me do?" asked Constance.
"'Tis but to endure imprisonment for an hour," said Iola, "to stay hereand watch till I come back, and, if any one comes to the door, merelyto answer, 'You cannot come in!'"
"That is easily accomplished," replied her cousin; "and I may as wellperform my devotions for the night here, as in my own chamber hardby."
"Quite as well," answered Iola, with a smile. "But now I must clearthe way;" and, opening the door into the ante-room, she said--"Here,Susan. Have the guests left the hall?"
"Oh yes, lady," replied the rosy country girl, who appeared in answerto her summons. "They did not sit long to-night. They have all gone totheir chambers some time."
"Well then, I shall not want you for an hour," said Iola; and sheadded, with a laugh--"I know there is some one whom you want to talkwith. But be discreet, Susan; and you shall have a present on mymarriage, to furnish house with."
The girl blushed, and simpered, and retired.
"And now," said Iola, "I must cover over these gay robes;" and,opening one of those large cupboards, which, from the use that theywere sometimes applied to, retained, for many years, and still do insome parts of Europe, the name of armoury, she drew forth a whiteserge gown and hood, which she threw over her other apparel.
"But where are you going?" demanded Constance, in a tone of alarm."Surely not beyond the castle walls. Your wanderings round the abbeyused to frighten me sometimes, when the broad daylight shone upon you;but now you make me fear still more."
"Fear not, and ask no questions," answered Iola. "I shall not bewithout protection in case of need."
"Oh, Iola, Iola, think well of what you are doing!" exclaimed hercousin, detaining her by the hand.
"I have thought," answer
ed the lady. "See how the moon shines; and,hark, there is my summons."
Constance looked out and listened; and, faint upon her ear, the closedcasement dulling the sound, came the same strain of music which Fulmerhad heard from a different part of the castle. Gently disengaging herhand, Iola glided into the ante-room, and opened the door leading intothe passage. She returned the moment after, however, saying--
"There is some one moving. I must wait a little;" but, ere two minutesmore were over, she went out again, and closed the doors behind her.
Constance remained where her cousin left her, listening with anxiousears, for several moments, but Iola returned not; and, locking thedoor, her cousin cast herself upon her knees, and prayed fervently.