CHAPTER XLII.
An old man, with a long white beard, presented himself before theprincess countess of Arran, almost the moment after she had knocked,and, in answer to her demand to see the lady, simply said, "Followme," and led the way along the passage. Her heart beat; her brainseemed giddy; her whole frame was agitated; but she went on; and, atthe end of a step or two, her guide opened a door, and held it in hishand, till she had entered. Then closing it he retired.
The sun, as I have said, had sunk; but the twilight was clear, and thewindows of the room looked towards the west, where lingered still therosy hues of the setting sun. The room was filled with a sort of hazypurple air, and the objects which it contained, though shadowy andsomewhat indistinct, could still be seen clearly enough. Standing notfar from one of the windows, with the light background of the skybehind her, so that her features were not discernible, the princessMary beheld the beautiful form of a girl, apparently eighteen ornineteen years of age. As the rays passing from behind glanced on therich satin of her robe, and the gold lace that fringed the bodice, itwas evident to Mary that the person before her was dressed in thegorgeous habiliments of the court of of that time. She could seenothing more at the first moment, but as the girl advanced towardsher, the face was slightly turned towards the window, and the finechiselled features were beheld in profile, showing at once, howbeautiful they must be when the light of day displayed them morefully.
"Welcome, lady," said the sweet tones of Iola, the music of her voicethrilling upon the ear of the princess, like the notes of somedelicate instrument, although there was much emotion in those tones."You have come somewhat sooner than I expected. I presume I speak tothe princess Mary."
"The same, my child," replied the lady, taking her hand, which Iolahad partly offered. "This is a strange meeting; and you tremble morethan I do, though I am told that from your voice I shall hear tidingswhich, whatever be their especial nature, may well shake and agitatemy heart and frame."
"I am not wont to be so weak," said Iola; "nor to fear, nor tohesitate; but yet I cannot help it at this moment. Let us sit down fora while, and speak of other things, so that these emotions may passaway."
"They will but increase by delay," replied Mary; "and I am eager tohear from your lips, or indeed from any lips, those tidings which tome are as the words of Fate. Speak, then, dear child, speak at once,and tell me what you know."
"Nay, lady," said Iola, in a very grave and even melancholy tone,withdrawing her hand from that of the princess; "I have questions toask as well as you; and they must be answered, before my lips areunsealed."
"Nay, this is cruel," said the princess Mary, "to torture me withdelay, when the sight of that cross, the gift of early pure affection,to him I loved the best, and this mysterious journey, and this strangemeeting, have raised my expectations--oh, that I dared say my hopes tothe highest point--it is cruel indeed."
"No, not cruel," answered Iola. "Could the dead see all the actionsof the living, would the living dare to meet the dead? I have ahard and painful task to perform, and I must perform it. Yet, dearlady, I would do it with all gentleness, for I have to ask painfulquestions--questions which, if my heart tell me true, may raise angerand indignation, as well as cause pain and sorrow."
"Speak then, speak then," said Mary, impatiently. "Let them be quicklyover."
"Well, then, as it must be so," said Iola, "let me first say, I knowthe early history well, the marriage of the princess Mary to the earlof Arran, her brother's subject and friend, the advantage which baseenemies took of his absence in Denmark, in his sovereign's service, toruin his father and his uncle, to seize his estates, forfeit hishonours, and blast his name--a name on which the voice of calumnynever breathed till then."
Mary sank into a seat and covered her eyes with her hands; but Iolawent on, seeming to hurry her words to get over her painful task withspeed.
"I know, too," she said, "the generous devotion of the princess, thatshe fled in disguise from her brother's court, to warn her husband ofhis danger, when he returned from his successful embassy, bringingwith him his sovereign's royal bride; I know that she sought his fleetin a poor skiff, and fled with him into exile and poverty; I know thatshe only returned to her own land, after years of exile, on thedelusive promise that her petition and submission would recover hisestates and honours, for him she loved. Hitherto, all is clear; but,now comes the question--Lady, forgive me," she continued, takingMary's hand, and kissing it; "but I must pain you."
"Speak, dear child, speak," said the princess. "There is nought in mywhole life, that I am not ready to tell here or anywhere."
"Well, then," said Iola, with a sigh; "did the princess Mary, when herhusband was doing his knightly devoir here on this English ground, inbehalf of the house which had befriended him and his, did she consentto a divorce from her once-loved lord, and----"
"Never, never, never!" cried the princess, starting from her seat,"never, by word or deed. What, has that dark tale come hither too?'Twas done without my consent or knowledge; and, when done, I raisedmy voice and wrote my protest against it. They told me he was dead.They told me that he fell there, on Atherston moor--fell, as he lived,in noble deeds and gallant self-devotion."
"And then, hearing of his death," said Iola, in a voice sunk to thelowest tone with emotion; "the princess married James, Lord Hamilton."
"'Tis false!" exclaimed Mary, vehemently; and then, clasping Iola'shand in her own, she added: "Strange, mysterious girl, how is it thatyou, who know so much, do not know more? Hamilton was kind. He soughtmy noble husband as a brother, spoke in his favour to the king, raisedhis voice with mine; and, when at length the news of his death came,my brother and my sovereign signed a contract of marriage on mybehalf, between him and me, and in his bounty gave lands and lordshipsto Lord Hamilton and the Princess Mary, his wife. They laid thecontract before me, and I tore it and scattered it to the winds--for Ihad doubts," she added, in a low thoughtful voice. "I saw couriersgoing and coming to and from England, whose tidings were concealedfrom me; and, I had doubts--I have still doubts--that he died then.Now, I am sure he is dead, or they would not give me liberty to roamand seek his burial-place; for, ever since that day, when I tore thecontract before my brother's face, in name I have been free, in trutha prisoner. I had but one faithful servant, whom I could trust. He,indeed, once deceived me, because he was himself deceived. He told methat my husband was dead in Denmark; and when we found, from certainintelligence, that he was here in England, warring for the house ofLancaster, the poor man was more thunderstruck than I was, for I hadnot believed the tale. Oh, how the heart clings to hope--how it claspsthe faded flower, when even the root is withered. Still, still, tillthe end I hoped! With what tears I watered my pillow! With whatprayers I wearied Heaven. Although I saw letters telling plainly thathe died, sword in hand, on Atherston moor, I would not believe, tillthey told me at length, but a few months since, that, if I pleased, Imight come and seek him myself. But, oh, dear child, that hope which Iso fondly clung to would become a horror and a terror, if I couldbelieve that my dear, my noble Arran, had been lingering on here,living, and yet doubting of my faith and truth. I know what his noblemind would have felt; I know how his kind and generous heart wouldhave been wrung; I know the black despair into which he would havefallen. But it cannot be. I will not believe it. He would havewritten; he would have sent; he would have found some means tore-assure and comfort me. Now, then, I have answered all. Tell me,tell me, I beseech you, how died my husband? Where have they laid him?But you are weeping, my poor child."
"Stay a moment," said Iola, her voice half choked with sobs. "I shallrecover in a minute. Then I will tell you all;" and, breaking awayfrom her, she, quitted the room suddenly.
With a foot of light, Iola trod the passage nearly to the end, andopened a door, from which immediately a light streamed forth.
Sitting at a table underneath a burning sconce, with his arms restingon the board, and his forehead on his arms, was a tall and powerfulman,
dressed in the garments of a nobleman of high rank, somewhatantiquated indeed in point of fashion, but still rich and in goodtaste. He seemed not to hear Iola's foot; for he moved not, althoughthe stillness of his figure was broken by the heaving of his chestwith a long, deep, gasping sigh. She laid her hand upon his arm,saying:
"Look up, look up. Sunshine has come again."
He raised his head with a start; and the countenance before her wasthat of Boyd the woodman.
With that eager grace so charming to see but indescribable in words,Iola caught his hand and kissed it, as he gazed upon her with a lookof doubt and wonder.
"It is all false," she cried, "all utterly false! She is yours--hasbeen yours always. True, through wrong, and persecution, and deceit,she is yours still--yours only."
"False," cried Boyd. "False? How can it be false? With my own eyes Isaw the announcement of his sister's marriage to James Hamilton, inthe king's own hand."
"He signed the contract," cried Iola, "without her consent; but shetore the contract, and refused to ratify it."
"But my letters, my unanswered letters?" said Boyd.
"She has been watched and guarded, surrounded by spies and deceivers,"exclaimed Iola, eagerly. "Hear all I have to tell you. Much may eventhen remain to be explained, but, believe me, oh, believe me, all willbe explained clearly and with ease."
"I know that one traitor, that John Radnor, was bought to tell her Iwas dead, when not ten days before he had spoken to me--me, ever hiskind and generous lord--and knew that I was safe and well. I saw theproof of the villain's treachery; and I slew him; but, oh, I cannotthink that there are many such. Yet they have been fiends of hellindeed; for torture, such as the damned undergo, were not more thanthey have fixed on me, by making me think my Mary, my beautiful, mydevoted, false to him she loved."
"Oh, she was never false," cried Iola. "They thought to cheat her toher own despair, by tales of your death; but the instinct of true lovetaught her to doubt, till she had seen your tomb with her own eyes."
"I will go to her. I will go to her," cried the earl of Arran, risingup, and taking a step or two towards the door. But there he paused,and asked, "Does she still believe me dead?"
"She does," replied Iola, "though perhaps a spark of hope is kindled."
"Go and fan it into flame," replied the earl, "gently, gently, Iola. Iwill bear the delay. Yet come as soon as ever she can bear to see me.Do it speedily, dear girl, but yet not rashly."
"I will be careful. I will be very careful," said Iola; and, hurryingaway, she returned to the chamber where she had left the PrincessMary, bearing a light with her.
"You have been long, my child," said the Princess; "but your youngheart knows not the anguish of mine; and that fair face speaks nounkindness."
"It would speak falsely, did it do so," replied Iola. "Methinks thepower to give joy and reawaken hope were the brightest prerogativethat man could obtain from Heaven. And now be seated, dear lady; and Iwill sit on this stool at your feet, and tell you a tale, woven intowhich will be answers to all that you could question, with many acomfort too, and a balm for a crushed and wounded heart."
"Angel," cried the princess, drawing her to her and kissing her brow;"you look and speak like one of Heaven's comforting spirits."
"Listen then," said Lola. "'Tis more than ten years ago that a partyof the lords of Lancaster, led by the gallant earl of Arran, as themost experienced of the troop, hastened across this country to joinqueen Margaret's force at Tewksbury. The news of Barnet had vaguelyreached them; but still they hurried on in the direction which theretreating army had taken. The main body of their little forceremained for the night on the green at St. Clare. I remember it well,though I was then but a child of eight years old; for the earl ofArran came to the Abbey, and I saw him there in his glittering armour.He came on here himself, with several other gentlemen, and lodged forthe night at this house; for he had learned that a superior body oftroops was on the way to cut him off, in the neighbourhood ofAtherston. The old man whom you saw but now tried to persuade him toretreat; but his high courage and his good faith led him on; and, onthe following day, he encountered the enemy on the moor, and, fornearly two hours, made his ground good against a force treble his ownnumbers. At length, however, in a strong effort to break through,having already received an arrow in the arm and a wound in the head,he was cast from his horse by a lance which pierced through andthrough his corslet. The troops then fled, and the day was lost."
Iola's voice trembled as she spoke, and Mary bent down her head uponher hands and wept.
"Be comforted," said the young girl, taking the princess's hand, andgazing up towards her. "Hear me out; for there is comfort yet."
"Ha!" exclaimed Mary, suddenly lifting her head. "Was he not slainthen--was he not slain?"
"Hear me to the end," said Iola, "and hear me calmly. The old man yousaw but now had been a follower of the house of Lancaster. He wasinterested too in that noble lord; and when he beheld the fugitivespass along the edge of the wood, and the fierce pursuers spurringafter, he went away towards the field to see if he could aid thewounded. He found a number of the people from the abbey upon thefield, and some of the good sisters. Litters were procured; thewounded men were removed; the dying had the consolation of religion;but the earl of Arran was not found amongst either. While the old manwent his way, the litters travelled slowly to St. Clare. She who wasabbess then asked anxiously for the earl of Arran; but they told herthat he was neither amongst the wounded, nor the dying, nor the dead.She said they must be mistaken; for a soldier, who had stopped to geta draught of water at the fountain, had seen him fall pierced with aspear; and she sent them back with torches, for, by this time, it wasnight, to seek for him once more. They sought for him in vain; but theold franklin, as he had turned homewards, had seen something glitterin the bushes just at the edge of the wood. On looking nearer, hefound that it was the form of an armed man, with the head of a lancein his breast. The staff was broken off."
"Oh, God, was he living?" exclaimed the princess.
"He was," replied Iola; "nay, be calm, be calm, and hear me out. Imust tell the rest rapidly. The old man staid with him till nightfall;then got a cart and moved him hither, where a great part of hisbaggage had been left. They dared not send for a surgeon; for pursuitafter the house of Lancaster was fierce, and slaughter ragedthroughout the land. But the old man himself extracted the lance'shead, and stanched the bleeding by such simples as he knew. For threemonths he tended him as a father would a child; but for nearly a yearhe was feeble and unable to move."
"Does he live, does he live?" cried the princess.
"Can you bear it?" asked Iola. "He did live long, for many years; buthe heard tidings which disgusted him with life. Hermit or monk hewould not become; for he had other thoughts; but he cast off rank andstate, and, putting on a lowly garb, he lived as a mere woodman in aforest near, a servant of the abbey where all my youth was spent."
"But now, but now!" demanded Mary. "Does he live now? Oh, tell me,tell me!"
As she spoke the door opened. Mary raised her eyes and gazed forward,with a look of wild bewilderment, and then, with a cry of joy andrecognition, sprang forward and cast herself upon her husband'sbosom.