KENILWORTH BY SIR WALTER SCOTT CONTINUED 1 COMPLIMENTS OF WIKISOURCE CHAPTER V. He was a man Versed in the world as pilot in his compass. The needle pointed ever to that interest Which was his loadstar, and he spread his sails With vantage to the gale of others passion. --THE DECEIVER, A TRAGEDY. Antony Foster was still engaged in debate with his fair guest, who treated with scorn every entreaty and request that she would retire to her own apartment, when a whistle was heard at the entrance-door of the mansion. We are fairly sped now, said Foster; yonder is thy lords signal, and what to say about the disorder which has happened in this household, by my conscience, I know not. Some evil fortune dogs the heels of that unhanged rogue Lambourne, and he has scaped the gallows against every chance, to come back and be the ruin of me! Peace, sir, said the lady, and undo the gate to your master.--My lord! my dear lord! she then exclaimed, hastening to the entrance of the apartment; then added, with a voice expressive of disappointment, Pooh! it is but Richard Varney. Ay, madam, said Varney, entering and saluting the lady with a respectful obeisance, which she returned with a careless mixture of negligence and of displeasure, it is but Richard Varney; but even the first grey cloud should be acceptable, when it lightens in the east, because it announces the approach of the blessed sun. How! comes my lord hither to-night? said the lady, in joyful yet startled agitation; and Anthony Foster caught up the word, and echoed the question. Varney replied to the lady, that his lord purposed to attend her; and would have proceeded with some compliment, when, running to the door of the parlour, she called aloud, Janet--Janet! come to my tiring-room instantly. Then returning to Varney, she asked if her lord sent any further commendations to her. This letter, honoured madam, said he, taking from his bosom a small parcel wrapped in scarlet silk, and with it a token to the Queen of his Affections. With eager speed the lady hastened to undo the silken string which surrounded the little packet, and failing to unloose readily the knot with which it was secured, she again called loudly on Janet, Bring me a knife--scissors--aught that may undo this envious knot! May not my poor poniard serve, honoured madam? said Varney, presenting a small dagger of exquisite workmanship, which hung in his Turkey-leather sword-belt. No, sir, replied the lady, rejecting the instrument which he offered--steel poniard shall cut no true-love knot of mine. It has cut many, however, said Anthony Foster, half aside, and looking at Varney. By this time the knot was disentangled without any other help than the neat and nimble fingers of Janet, a simply-attired pretty maiden, the daughter of Anthony Foster, who came running at the repeated call of her mistress. A necklace of orient pearl, the companion of a perfumed billet, was now hastily produced from the packet. The lady gave the one, after a slight glance, to the charge of her attendant, while she read, or rather devoured, the contents of the other. Surely, lady, said Janet, gazing with admiration at the neck-string of pearls, the daughters of Tyre wore no fairer neck-jewels than these. And then the posy, For a neck that is fairer--each pearl is worth a freehold. Each word in this dear paper is worth the whole string, my girl. But come to my tiring-room, girl; we must be brave, my lord comes hither to-night.--He bids me grace you, Master Varney, and to me his wish is a law. I bid you to a collation in my bower this afternoon; and you, too, Master Foster. Give orders that all is fitting, and that suitable preparations be made for my lords reception to-night. With these words she left the apartment. She takes state on her already, said Varney, and distributes the favour of her presence, as if she were already the partner of his dignity. Well, it is wise to practise beforehand the part which fortune prepares us to play--the young eagle must gaze at the sun ere he soars on strong wing to meet it. If holding her head aloft, said Foster, will keep her eyes from dazzling, I warrant you the dame will not stoop her crest. She will presently soar beyond reach of my whistle, Master Varney. I promise you, she holds me already in slight regard. It is thine own fault, thou sullen, uninventive companion, answered Varney, who knowest no mode of control save downright brute force. Canst thou not make home pleasant to her, with music and toys? Canst thou not make the out-of-doors frightful to her, with tales of goblins? Thou livest here by the churchyard, and hast not even wit enough to raise a ghost, to scare thy females into good discipline. Speak not thus, Master Varney, said Foster; the living I fear not, but I trifle not nor toy with my dead neighbours of the churchyard. I promise you, it requires a good heart to live so near it. Worthy Master Holdforth, the afternoons lecturer of Saint Antonlins, had a sore fright there the last time he came to visit me. Hold thy superstitious tongue, answered Varney; and while thou talkest of visiting, answer me, thou paltering knave, how came Tressilian to be at the postern door? Tressilian! answered Foster, what know I of Tressilian? I never heard his name. Why, villain, it was the very Cornish chough to whom old Sir Hugh Robsart destined his pretty Amy; and hither the hot-brained fool has come to look after his fair runaway. There must be some order taken with him, for he thinks he hath wrong, and is not the mean hind that will sit down with it. Luckily he knows nought of my lord, but thinks he has only me to deal with. But how, in the fiends name, came he hither? Why, with Mike Lambourne, an you must know, answered Foster. And who is Mike Lambourne? demanded Varney. By Heaven! thou wert best set up a bush over thy door, and invite every stroller who passes by to see what thou shouldst keep secret even from the sun and air. Ay! ay! this is a courtlike requital of my service to you, Master Richard Varney, replied Foster. Didst thou not charge me to seek out for thee a fellow who had a good sword and an unscrupulous conscience? and was I not busying myself to find a fit man--for, thank Heaven, my acquaintance lies not amongst such companions--when, as Heaven would have it, this tall fellow, who is in all his dualities the very flashing knave thou didst wish, came hither to fix acquaintance upon me in the plenitude of his impudence; and I admitted his claim, thinking to do you a pleasure. And now see what thanks I get for disgracing myself by converse with him! And did he, said Varney, being such a fellow as thyself, only lacking, I suppose, thy present humour of hypocrisy, which lies as thin over thy hard, ruffianly heart as gold lacquer upon rusty iron--did he, I say, bring the saintly, sighing Tressilian in his train? They came together, by Heaven! said Foster; and Tressilian--to speak Heavens truth--obtained a moments interview with our pretty moppet, while I was talking apart with Lambourne. Improvident villain! we are both undone, said Varney. She has of late been casting many a backward look to her fathers halls, whenever her lordly lover leaves her alone. Should this preaching fool whistle her back to her old perch, we were but lost men. No fear of that, my master, replied Anthony Foster; she is in no mood to stoop to his lure, for she yelled out on seeing him as if an adder had stung her. That is good. Canst thou not get from thy daughter an inkling of what passed between them, good Foster? I tell you plain, Master Varney, said Foster, my daughter shall not enter our purposes or walk in our paths. They may suit me well enough, who know how to repent of my misdoings; but I will not have my childs soul committed to peril either for your pleasure or my lords. I may walk among snares and pitfalls myself, because I have discretion, but I will not trust the poor lamb among them. Why, thou suspicious fool, I were as averse as thou art that thy baby-faced girl should enter into my plans, or walk to hell at her fathers elbow. But indirectly thou mightst gain some intelligence of her? And so I did, Master Varney, answered Foster; and she said her lady called out upon the sickness of her father. Good! replied Varney; that is a hint worth catching, and I will work upon it. But the country must be rid of this Tressilian. I would have cumbered no man about the matter, for I hate him like strong poison--his presence is hemlock to me--and this day I had been rid of him, but that my foot slipped, when, to speak truth, had not thy comrade yonder come to my aid, and held his hand, I should have known by this time whether you and I have been treading the path to heaven or hell. And you can speak thus of such a risk! said Foster. You keep a stout heart, Master Varney. For me, if I did not hope to live many years, and to have time for the great work of repentance, I would not go forward with you. Oh! thou shalt live as long as Methuselah, said Varney, and amass as much wealth as Solomon; and thou shalt repent so devoutly, that thy repentance shall be more famous than thy villainy--and that is a bold word. But for all this, Tressilian must be looked after. Thy ruffian yonder is gone to dog him. It concerns our fortunes, Anthony. Ay, ay, said Foster sullenly, this it is to be leagued with one who knows not even so much of Scripture, as that the labourer is worthy of his hire. I must, as usual, take all the trouble and risk. Risk! and what is the mighty risk, I pray you? answered Varney. This fellow will come prowling again about your demesne or into your house, and if you take him for a house-breaker or a park-breaker, is it not most natural you should welcome him with cold steel or hot lead? Even a mastiff will pull down those who come near his kennel; and who shall blame him? Ay, I have a mastiffs work and a mastiffs wage among you, said Foster. Here have you, Master Varney, secured a good freehold estate out of this old superstitious foundation; and I have but a poor lease of this mansion under you, voidable at your honours pleasure. Ay, and thou wouldst fain convert thy leasehold into a copyhold--the thing may chance to happen, Anthony Foster, if thou dost good service for it. But softly, good Anthony--it is not the lending a room or two of this old house for keeping my lords pretty paroquet--nay, it is not the shutting thy doors and windows to keep her from flying off that may deserve it. Remember, the manor and tithes are rated at the clear annual value of seventy-nine pounds five shillings and fivepence halfpenny, besides the value of the wood. Come, come, thou must be conscionable; great and secret service may deserve both this and a better thing. And now let thy knave come and pluck off my boots. Get us some dinner, and a cup of thy best wine. I must visit this mavis, brave in apparel, unruffled in aspect, and gay in temper. They parted and at the hour of noon, which was then that of dinner, they again met at their meal, Varney gaily dressed like a courtier of the time, and even Anthony Foster improved in appearance, as far as dress could amend an exterior so unfavourable. This alteration did not escape Varney. Then the meal was finished, the cloth removed, and they were left to their private discourse--Thou art gay as a goldfinch, Anthony, said Varney, looking at his host; methinks, thou wilt whistle a jig anon. But I crave your pardon, that would secure your ejection from the congregation of the zealous botchers, the pure-hearted weavers, and the sanctified bakers of Abingdon, who let their ovens cool while their brains get heated. To answer you in the spirit, Master Varney, said Foster, were--excuse the parable--to fling sacred and precious things before swine. So I will speak to thee in the language of the world, which he who is king of the world, hath taught thee, to understand, and to profit by in no common measure. Say what thou wilt, honest Tony, replied Varney; for be it according to thine absurd faith, or according to thy most villainous practice, it cannot choose but be rare matter to qualify this cup of Alicant. Thy conversation is relishing and poignant, and beats caviare, dried neats-tongue, and all other provocatives that give savour to good liquor. Well, then, tell me, said Anthony Foster, is not our good lord and masters turn better served, and his antechamber more suitably filled, with decent, God-fearing men, who will work his will and their own profit quietly, and without worldly scandal, than that he should be manned, and attended, and followed by such open debauchers and ruffianly swordsmen as Tidesly, Killigrew, this fellow Lambourne, whom you have put me to seek out for you, and other such, who bear the gallows in their face and murder in their right hand--who are a terror to peaceable men, and a scandal to my lords service? Oh, content you, good Master Anthony Foster, answered Varney; he that flies at all manner of game must keep all kinds of hawks, both short and long-winged. The course my lord holds is no easy one, and he must stand provided at all points with trusty retainers to meet each sort of service. He must have his gay courtier, like myself, to ruffle it in the presence-chamber, and to lay hand on hilt when any speaks in disparagement of my lords honour-- Ay, said Foster, and to whisper a word for him into a fair ladys ear, when he may not approach her himself. Then, said Varney, going on without appearing to notice the interruption, he must have his lawyers--deep, subtle pioneers--to draw his contracts, his pre-contracts, and his post-contracts, and to find the way to make the most of grants of church-lands, and commons, and licenses for monopoly. And he must have physicians who can spice a cup or a caudle. And he must have his cabalists, like Dec and Allan, for conjuring up the devil. And he must have ruffling swordsmen, who would fight the devil when he is raised and at the wildest. And above all, without prejudice to others, he must have such godly, innocent, puritanic souls as thou, honest Anthony, who defy Satan, and do his work at the same time. You would not say, Master Varney, said Foster, that our good lord and master, whom I hold to be fulfilled in all nobleness, would use such base and sinful means to rise, as thy speech points at? Tush, man, said Varney, never look at me with so sad a brow. You trap me not--nor am I in your power, as your weak brain may imagine, because I name to you freely the engines, the springs, the screws, the tackle, and braces, by which great men rise in stirring times. Sayest thou our good lord is fulfilled of all nobleness? Amen, and so be it--he has the more need to have those about him who are unscrupulous in his service, and who, because they know that his fall will overwhelm and crush them, must wager both blood and brain, soul and body, in order to keep him aloft; and this I tell thee, because I care not who knows it. You speak truth, Master Varney, said Anthony Foster. He that is head of a party is but a boat on a wave, that raises not itself, but is moved upward by the billow which it floats upon. Thou art metaphorical, honest Anthony, replied Varney; that velvet doublet hath made an oracle of thee. We will have thee to Oxford to take the degrees in the arts. And, in the meantime, hast thou arranged all the matters which were sent from London, and put the western chambers into such fashion as may answer my lords humour? They may serve a king on his bridal-day, said Anthony; and I promise you that Dame Amy sits in them yonder as proud and gay as if she were the Queen of Sheba. Tis the better, good Anthony, answered Varney; we must found our future fortunes on her good liking. We build on sand then, said Anthony Foster; for supposing that she sails away to court in all her lords dignity and authority, how is she to look back upon me, who am her jailor as it were, to detain her here against her will, keeping her a caterpillar on an old wall, when she would fain be a painted butterfly in a court garden? Fear not her displeasure, man, said Varney. I will show her all thou hast done in this matter was good service, both to my lord and her; and when she chips the egg-shell and walks alone, she shall own we have hatched her greatness. Look to yourself, Master Varney, said Foster, you may misreckon foully in this matter. She gave you but a frosty reception this morning, and, I think, looks on you, as well as me, with an evil eye. You mistake her, Foster--you mistake her utterly. To me she is bound by all the ties which can secure her to one who has been the means of gratifying both her love and ambition. Who was it that took the obscure Amy Robsart, the daughter of an impoverished and dotard knight--the destined bride of a moonstruck, moping enthusiast, like Edmund Tressilian, from her lowly fates, and held out to her in prospect the brightest fortune in England, or perchance in Europe? Why, man, it was I--as I have often told thee--that found opportunity for their secret meetings. It was I who watched the wood while he beat for the deer. It was I who, to this day, am blamed by her family as the companion of her flight; and were I in their neighbourhood, would be fain to wear a shirt of better stuff than Holland linen, lest my ribs should be acquainted with Spanish steel. Who carried their letters?--I. Who amused the old knight and Tressilian?--I. Who planned her escape?--it was I. It was I, in short, Dick Varney, who pulled this pretty little daisy from its lowly nook, and placed it in the proudest bonnet in Britain. Ay, Master Varney, said Foster; but it may be she thinks that had the matter remained with you, the flower had been stuck so slightly into the cap, that the first breath of a changeable breeze of passion had blown the poor daisy to the common. She should consider, said Varney, smiling, the true faith I owed my lord and master prevented me at first from counselling marriage; and yet I did counsel marriage when I saw she would not be satisfied without the--the sacrament, or the ceremony--which callest thou it, Anthony? Still she has you at feud on another score, said Foster; and I tell it you that you may look to yourself in time. She would not hide her splendour in this dark lantern of an old monastic house, but would fain shine a countess amongst countesses. Very natural, very right, answered Varney; but what have I to do with that?--she may shine through horn or through crystal at my lords pleasure, I have nought to say against it. She deems that you have an oar upon that side of the boat, Master Varney, replied Foster, and that you can pull it or no, at your good pleasure. In a word, she ascribes the secrecy and obscurity in which she is kept to your secret counsel to my lord, and to my strict agency; and so she loves us both as a sentenced man loves his judge and his jailor. She must love us better ere she leave this place, Anthony, answered Varney. If I have counselled for weighty reasons that she remain here for a season, I can also advise her being brought forth in the full blow of her dignity. But I were mad to do so, holding so near a place to my lords person, were she mine enemy. Bear this truth in upon her as occasion offers, Anthony, and let me alone for extolling you in her ear, and exalting you in her opinion--KA ME, KA THEE--it is a proverb all over the world. The lady must know her friends, and be made to judge of the power they have of being her enemies; meanwhile, watch her strictly, but with all the outward observance that thy rough nature will permit. Tis an excellent thing that sullen look and bull-dog humour of thine; thou shouldst thank God for it, and so should my lord, for when there is aught harsh or hard-natured to be done, thou dost it as if it flowed from thine own natural doggedness, and not from orders, and so my lord escapes the scandal.--But, hark--some one knocks at the gate. Look out at the window--let no one enter--this were an ill night to be interrupted. It is he whom we spoke of before dinner, said Foster, as he looked through the casement; it is Michael Lambourne. Oh, admit him, by all means, said the courtier; he comes to give some account of his guest; it imports us much to know the movements of Edmund Tressilian.--Admit him, I say, but bring him not hither; I will come to you presently in the Abbots library. Foster left the room, and the courtier, who remained behind, paced the parlour more than once in deep thought, his arms folded on his bosom, until at length he gave vent to his meditations in broken words, which we have somewhat enlarged and connected, that his soliloquy may be intelligible to the reader. Tis true, he said, suddenly stopping, and resting his right hand on the table at which they had been sitting, this base churl hath fathomed the very depth of my fear, and I have been unable to disguise it from him. She loves me not--I would it were as true that I loved not her! Idiot that I was, to move her in my own behalf, when wisdom bade me be a true broker to my lord! And this fatal error has placed me more at her discretion than a wise man would willingly be at that of the best piece of painted Eves flesh of them all. Since the hour that my policy made so perilous a slip, I cannot look at her without fear, and hate, and fondness, so strangely mingled, that I know not whether, were it at my choice, I would rather possess or ruin her. But she must not leave this retreat until I am assured on what terms we are to stand. My lords interest--and so far it is mine own, for if he sinks I fall in his train--demands concealment of this obscure marriage; and besides, I will not lend her my arm to climb to her chair of state, that she may set her foot on my neck when she is fairly seated. I must work an interest in her, either through love or through fear; and who knows but I may yet reap the sweetest and best revenge for her former scorn?--that were indeed a masterpiece of courtlike art! Let me but once be her counsel-keeper--let her confide to me a secret, did it but concern the robbery of a linnets nest, and, fair Countess, thou art mine own! He again paced the room in silence, stopped, filled and drank a cup of wine, as if to compose the agitation of his mind, and muttering, Now for a close heart and an open and unruffled brow, he left the apartment. CHAPTER VI. The dews of summer night did fall, The moon, sweet regent of the sky, Silverd the walls of Cumnor Hall, And many an oak that grew thereby.--MICKLE. [This verse is the commencement of the ballad already quoted, as what suggested the novel.] Four apartments; which, occupied the western side of the old quadrangle at Cumnor Place, had been fitted up with extraordinary splendour. This had been the work of several days prior to that on which our story opened. Workmen sent from London, and not permitted to leave the premises until the work was finished, had converted the apartments in that side of the building from the dilapidated appearance of a dissolved monastic house into the semblance of a royal palace. A mystery was observed in all these arrangements: the workmen came thither and returned by night, and all measures were taken to prevent the prying curiosity of the villagers from observing or speculating upon the changes which were taking place in the mansion of their once indigent but now wealthy neighbour, Anthony Foster. Accordingly, the secrecy desired was so far preserved, that nothing got abroad but vague and uncertain reports, which were received and repeated, but without much credit being attached to them. On the evening of which we treat, the new and highly-decorated suite of rooms were, for the first time, illuminated, and that with a brilliancy which might have been visible half-a-dozen miles off, had not oaken shutters, carefully secured with bolt and padlock, and mantled with long curtains of silk and of velvet, deeply fringed with gold, prevented the slightest gleam of radiance front being seen without. The principal apartments, as we have seen, were four in number, each opening into the other. Access was given to them by a large scale staircase, as they were then called, of unusual length and height, which had its landing-place at the door of an antechamber, shaped somewhat like a gallery. This apartment the abbot had used as an occasional council-room, but it was now beautifully wainscoted with dark, foreign wood of a brown colour, and bearing a high polish, said to have been brought from the Western Indies, and to have been wrought in London with infinite difficulty and much damage to the tools of the workmen. The dark colour of this finishing was relieved by the number of lights in silver sconces which hung against the walls, and by six large and richly-framed pictures, by the first masters of the age. A massy oaken table, placed at the lower end of the apartment, served to accommodate such as chose to play at the then fashionable game of shovel-board; and there was at the other end an elevated gallery for the musicians or minstrels, who might be summoned to increase the festivity of the evening. From this antechamber opened a banqueting-room of moderate size, but brilliant enough to dazzle the eyes of the spectator with the richness of its furniture. The walls, lately so bare and ghastly, were now clothed with hangings of sky-blue velvet and silver; the chairs were of ebony, richly carved, with cushions corresponding to the hangings; and the place of the silver sconces which enlightened the ante-chamber was supplied by a huge chandelier of the same precious metal. The floor was covered with a Spanish foot-cloth, or carpet, on which flowers and fruits were represented in such glowing and natural colours, that you hesitated to place the foot on such exquisite workmanship. The table, of old English oak, stood ready covered with the finest linen; and a large portable court-cupboard was placed with the leaves of its embossed folding-doors displayed, showing the shelves within, decorated with a full display of plate and porcelain. In the midst of the table stood a salt-cellar of Italian workmanship--a beautiful and splendid piece of plate about two feet high, moulded into a representation of the giant Briareus, whose hundred hands of silver presented to the guests various sorts of spices, or condiments, to season their food withal. The third apartment was called the withdrawing-room. It was hung with the finest tapestry, representing the fall of Phaeton; for the looms of Flanders were now much occupied on classical subjects. The principal seat of this apartment was a chair of state, raised a step or two from the floor, and large enough to contain two persons. It was surmounted by a canopy, which, as well as the cushions, side-curtains, and the very footcloth, was composed of crimson velvet, embroidered with seed-pearl. On the top of the canopy were two coronets, resembling those of an earl and countess. Stools covered with velvet, and some cushions disposed in the Moorish fashion, and ornamented with Arabesque needle-work, supplied the place of chairs in this apartment, which contained musical instruments, embroidery frames, and other articles for ladies pastime. Besides lesser lights, the withdrawing-room was illuminated by four tall torches of virgin wax, each of which was placed in the grasp of a statue, representing an armed Moor, who held in his left arm a round buckler of silver, highly polished, interposed betwixt his breast and the light, which was thus brilliantly reflected as from a crystal mirror. The sleeping chamber belonging to this splendid suite of apartments was decorated in a taste less showy, but not less rich, than had been displayed in the others. Two silver lamps, fed with perfumed oil, diffused at once a delicious odour and a trembling twilight-seeming shimmer through the quiet apartment. It was carpeted so thick that the heaviest step could not have been heard, and the bed, richly heaped with down, was spread with an ample coverlet of silk and gold; from under which peeped forth cambric sheets and blankets as white as the lambs which yielded the fleece that made them. The curtains were of blue velvet, lined with crimson silk, deeply festooned with gold, and embroidered with the loves of Cupid and Psyche. On the toilet was a beautiful Venetian mirror, in a frame of silver filigree, and beside it stood a gold posset-dish to contain the night-draught. A pair of pistols and a dagger, mounted with gold, were displayed near the head of the bed, being the arms for the night, which were presented to honoured guests, rather, it may be supposed, in the way of ceremony than from any apprehension of danger. We must not omit to mention, what was more to the credit of the manners of the time, that in a small recess, illuminated by a taper, were disposed two hassocks of velvet and gold, corresponding with the bed furniture, before a desk of carved ebony. This recess had formerly been the private oratory of the abbot; but the crucifix was removed, and instead there were placed on the desk, two Books of Common Prayer, richly bound, and embossed with silver. With this enviable sleeping apartment, which was so far removed from every sound save that of the wind sighing among the oaks of the park, that Morpheus might have coveted it for his own proper repose, corresponded two wardrobes, or dressing-rooms as they are now termed, suitably furnished, and in a style of the same magnificence which we have already described. It ought to be added, that a part of the building in the adjoining wing was occupied by the kitchen and its offices, and served to accommodate the personal attendants of the great and wealthy nobleman, for whose use these magnificent preparations had been made. The divinity for whose sake this temple had been decorated was well worthy the cost and pains which had been bestowed. She was seated in the withdrawing-room which we have described, surveying with the pleased eye of natural and innocent vanity the splendour which had been so suddenly created, as it were, in her honour. For, as her own residence at Cumnor Place formed the cause of the mystery observed in all the preparations for opening these apartments, it was sedulously arranged that, until she took possession of them, she should have no means of knowing what was going forward in that part of the ancient building, or of exposing herself to be seen by the workmen engaged in the decorations. She had been, therefore, introduced on that evening to a part of the mansion which she had never yet seen, so different from all the rest that it appeared, in comparison, like an enchanted palace. And when she first examined and occupied these splendid rooms, it was with the wild and unrestrained joy of a rustic beauty who finds herself suddenly invested with a splendour which her most extravagant wishes had never imagined, and at the same time with the keen feeling of an affectionate heart, which knows that all the enchantment that surrounds her is the work of the great magician Love. The Countess Amy, therefore--for to that rank she was exalted by her private but solemn union with Englands proudest Earl--had for a time flitted hastily from room to room, admiring each new proof of her lover and her bridegrooms taste, and feeling that admiration enhanced as she recollected that all she gazed upon was one continued proof of his ardent and devoted affection. How beautiful are these hangings! How natural these paintings, which seem to contend with life! How richly wrought is that plate, which looks as if all the galleons of Spain had been intercepted on the broad seas to furnish it forth! And oh, Janet! she exclaimed repeatedly to the daughter of Anthony Foster, the close attendant, who, with equal curiosity, but somewhat less ecstatic joy, followed on her mistresss footsteps--oh, Janet! how much more delightful to think that all these fair things have been assembled by his love, for the love of me! and that this evening--this very evening, which grows darker every instant, I shall thank him more for the love that has created such an unimaginable paradise, than for all the wonders it contains. The Lord is to be thanked first, said the pretty Puritan, who gave thee, lady, the kind and courteous husband whose love has done so much for thee. I, too, have done my poor share. But if you thus run wildly from room to room, the toil of my crisping and my curling pins will vanish like the frost-work on the window when the sun is high. Thou sayest true, Janet, said the young and beautiful Countess, stopping suddenly from her tripping race of enraptured delight, and looking at herself from head to foot in a large mirror, such as she had never before seen, and which, indeed, had few to match it even in the Queens palace--thou sayest true, Janet! she answered, as she saw, with pardonable self-applause, the noble mirror reflect such charms as were seldom presented to its fair and polished surface; I have more of the milk-maid than the countess, with these cheeks flushed with haste, and all these brown curls, which you laboured to bring to order, straying as wild as the tendrils of an unpruned vine. My falling ruff is chafed too, and shows the neck and bosom more than is modest and seemly. Come, Janet; we will practise state--we will go to the withdrawing-room, my good girl, and thou shalt put these rebel locks in order, and imprison within lace and cambric the bosom that beats too high. They went to the withdrawing apartment accordingly, where the Countess playfully stretched herself upon the pile of Moorish cushions, half sitting, half reclining, half wrapt in her own thoughts, half listening to the prattle of her attendant. While she was in this attitude, and with a corresponding expression betwixt listlessness and expectation on her fine and intelligent features, you might have searched sea and land without finding anything half so expressive or half so lovely. The wreath of brilliants which mixed with her dark-brown hair did not match in lustre the hazel eye which a light-brown eyebrow, pencilled with exquisite delicacy, and long eyelashes of the same colour, relieved and shaded. The exercise she had just taken, her excited expectation and gratified vanity, spread a glow over her fine features, which had been sometimes censured (as beauty as well as art has her minute critics) for being rather too pale. The milk-white pearls of the necklace which she wore, the same which she had just received as a true-love token from her husband, were excelled in purity by her teeth, and by the colour of her skin, saving where the blush of pleasure and self-satisfaction had somewhat stained the neck with a shade of light crimson.--Now, have done with these busy fingers, Janet, she said to her handmaiden, who was still officiously employed in bringing her hair and her dress into order--have done, I say. I must see your father ere my lord arrives, and also Master Richard Varney, whom my lord has highly in his esteem--but I could tell that of him would lose him favour. Oh, do not do so, good my lady! replied Janet; leave him to God, who punishes the wicked in His own time; but do not you cross Varneys path, for so thoroughly hath he my lords ear, that few have thriven who have thwarted his courses. And from whom had you this, my most righteous Janet? said the Countess; or why should I keep terms with so mean a gentleman as Varney, being as I am, wife to his master and patron? Nay, madam, replied Janet Foster, your ladyship knows better than I; but I have heard my father say he would rather cross a hungry wolf than thwart Richard Varney in his projects. And he has often charged me to have a care of holding commerce with him. Thy father said well, girl, for thee, replied the lady, and I dare swear meant well. It is a pity, though, his face and manner do little match his true purpose--for I think his purpose may be true. Doubt it not, my lady, answered Janet--doubt not that my father purposes well, though he is a plain man, and his blunt looks may belie his heart. I will not doubt it, girl, were it only for thy sake; and yet he has one of those faces which men tremble when they look on. I think even thy mother, Janet--nay, have done with that poking-iron--could hardly look upon him without quaking. If it were so, madam, answered Janet Foster, my mother had those who could keep her in honourable countenance. Why, even you, my lady, both trembled and blushed when Varney brought the letter from my lord. You are bold, damsel, said the Countess, rising from the cushions on which she sat half reclined in the arms of her attendant. Know that there are causes of trembling which have nothing to do with fear.--But, Janet, she added, immediately relapsing into the good-natured and familiar tone which was natural to her, believe me, I will do what credit I can to your father, and the rather that you, sweetheart, are his child. Alas! alas! she added, a sudden sadness passing over her fine features, and her eyes filling with tears, I ought the rather to hold sympathy with thy kind heart, that my own poor father is uncertain of my fate, and they say lies sick and sorrowful for my worthless sake! But I will soon cheer him--the news of my happiness and advancement will make him young again. And that I may cheer him the sooner--she wiped her eyes as she spoke--I must be cheerful myself. My lord must not find me insensible to his kindness, or sorrowful, when he snatches a visit to his recluse, after so long an absence. Be merry, Janet; the night wears on, and my lord must soon arrive. Call thy father hither, and call Varney also. I cherish resentment against neither; and though I may have some room to be displeased with both, it shall be their own fault if ever a complaint against them reaches the Earl through my means. Call them hither, Janet. Janet Foster obeyed her mistress; and in a few minutes after, Varney entered the withdrawing-room with the graceful ease and unclouded front of an accomplished courtier, skilled, under the veil of external politeness, to disguise his own feelings and to penetrate those of others. Anthony Foster plodded into the apartment after him, his natural gloomy vulgarity of aspect seeming to become yet more remarkable, from his clumsy attempt to conceal the mixture of anxiety and dislike with which he looked on her, over whom he had hitherto exercised so severe a control, now so splendidly attired, and decked with so many pledges of the interest which she possessed in her husbands affections. The blundering reverence which he made, rather AT than TO the Countess, had confession in it. It was like the reverence which the criminal makes to the judge, when he at once owns his guilt and implores mercy--which is at the same time an impudent and embarrassed attempt at defence or extenuation, a confession of a fault, and an entreaty for lenity. Varney, who, in right of his gentle blood, had pressed into the room before Anthony Foster, knew better what to say than he, and said it with more assurance and a better grace. The Countess greeted him indeed with an appearance of cordiality, which seemed a complete amnesty for whatever she might have to complain of. She rose from her seat, and advanced two steps towards him, holding forth her hand as she said, Master Richard Varney, you brought me this morning such welcome tidings, that I fear surprise and joy made me neglect my lord and husbands charge to receive you with distinction. We offer you our hand, sir, in reconciliation. I am unworthy to touch it, said Varney, dropping on one knee, save as a subject honours that of a prince. He touched with his lips those fair and slender fingers, so richly loaded with rings and jewels; then rising, with graceful gallantry, was about to hand her to the chair of state, when she said, No, good Master Richard Varney, I take not my place there until my lord himself conducts me. I am for the present but a disguised Countess, and will not take dignity on me until authorized by him whom I derive it from. I trust, my lady, said Foster, that in doing the commands of my lord your husband, in your restraint and so forth, I have not incurred your displeasure, seeing that I did but my duty towards your lord and mine; for Heaven, as holy writ saith, hath given the husband supremacy and dominion over the wife--I think it runs so, or something like it. I receive at this moment so pleasant a surprise, Master Foster, answered the Countess, that I cannot but excuse the rigid fidelity which secluded me from these apartments, until they had assumed an appearance so new and so splendid. Ay lady, said Foster, it hath cost many a fair crown; and that more need not be wasted than is absolutely necessary, I leave you till my lords arrival with good Master Richard Varney, who, as I think, hath somewhat to say to you from your most noble lord and husband.--Janet, follow me, to see that all be in order. No, Master Foster, said the Countess, we will your daughter remains here in our apartment--out of ear-shot, however, in case Varney bath ought to say to me from my lord. Foster made his clumsy reverence, and departed, with an aspect which seemed to grudge the profuse expense which had been wasted upon changing his house from a bare and ruinous grange to an Asiastic palace. When he was gone, his daughter took her embroidery frame, and went to establish herself at the bottom of the apartment; while Richard Varney, with a profoundly humble courtesy, took the lowest stool he could find, and placing it by the side of the pile of cushions on which the Countess had now again seated herself, sat with his eyes for a time fixed on the ground, and in pro-found silence. I thought, Master Varney, said the Countess, when she saw he was not likely to open the conversation, that you had something to communicate from my lord and husband; so at least I understood Master Foster, and therefore I removed my waiting-maid. If I am mistaken, I will recall her to my side; for her needle is not so absolutely perfect in tent and cross-stitch, but that my superintendence is advisable. Lady, said Varney, Foster was partly mistaken in my purpose. It was not FROM but OF your noble husband, and my approved and most noble patron, that I am led, and indeed bound, to speak. The theme is most welcome, sir, said the Countess, whether it be of or from my noble husband. But be brief, for I expect his hasty approach. Briefly then, madam, replied Varney, and boldly, for my argument requires both haste and courage--you have this day seen Tressilian? I have, sir and what of that? answered the lady somewhat sharply. Nothing that concerns me, lady, Varney replied with humility. But, think you, honoured madam, that your lord will hear it with equal equanimity? And wherefore should he not? To me alone was Tressilians visit embarrassing and painful, for he brought news of my good fathers illness. Of your fathers illness, madam! answered Varney. It must have been sudden then--very sudden; for the messenger whom I dispatched, at my lords instance, found the good knight on the hunting field, cheering his beagles with his wonted jovial field-cry. I trust Tressilian has but forged this news. He hath his reasons, madam, as you well know, for disquieting your present happiness. You do him injustice, Master Varney, replied the Countess, with animation--you do him much injustice. He is the freest, the most open, the most gentle heart that breathes. My honourable lord ever excepted, I know not one to whom falsehood is more odious than to Tressilian. I crave your pardon, madam, said Varney, I meant the gentleman no injustice--I knew not how nearly his cause affected you. A man may, in some circumstances, disguise the truth for fair and honest purpose; for were it to be always spoken, and upon all occasions, this were no world to live in. You have a courtly conscience, Master Varney, said the Countess, and your veracity will not, I think, interrupt your preferment in the world, such as it is. But touching Tressilian--I must do him justice, for I have done him wrong, as none knows better than thou. Tressilians conscience is of other mould--the world thou speakest of has not that which could bribe him from the way of truth and honour; and for living in it with a soiled fame, the ermine would as soon seek to lodge in the den of the foul polecat. For this my father loved him; for this I would have loved him--if I could. And yet in this case he had what seemed to him, unknowing alike of my marriage and to whom I was united, such powerful reasons to withdraw me from this place, that I well trust he exaggerated much of my fathers indisposition, and that thy better news may be the truer. Believe me they are, madam, answered Varney. I pretend not to be a champion of that same naked virtue called truth, to the very outrance. I can consent that her charms be hidden with a veil, were it but for decencys sake. But you must think lower of my head and heart than is due to one whom my noble lord deigns to call his friend, if you suppose I could wilfully and unnecessarily palm upon your ladyship a falsehood, so soon to be detected, in a matter which concerns your happiness. Master Varney, said the Countess, I know that my lord esteems you, and holds you a faithful and a good pilot in those seas in which he has spread so high and so venturous a sail. Do not suppose, therefore, I meant hardly by you, when I spoke the truth in Tressilians vindication. I am as you well know, country-bred, and like plain rustic truth better than courtly compliment; but I must change my fashions with my sphere, I presume. True, madam, said Varney, smiling; and though you speak now in jest, it will not be amiss that in earnest your present speech had some connection with your real purpose. A court-dame--take the most noble, the most virtuous, the most unimpeachable that stands around our Queens throne--would, for example, have shunned to speak the truth, or what she thought such, in praise of a discarded suitor, before the dependant and confidant of her noble husband. And wherefore, said the Countess, colouring impatiently, should I not do justice to Tressilians worth, before my husbands friend--before my husband himself--before the whole world? And with the same openness, said Varney, your ladyship will this night tell my noble lord your husband that Tressilian has discovered your place of residence, so anxiously concealed from the world, and that he has had an interview with you? Unquestionably, said the Countess. It will be the first thing I tell him, together with every word that Tressilian said and that I answered. I shall speak my own shame in this, for Tressilians reproaches, less just than he esteemed them, were not altogether unmerited. I will speak, therefore, with pain, but I will speak, and speak all. Your ladyship will do your pleasure, answered Varney; but methinks it were as well, since nothing calls for so frank a disclosure, to spare yourself this pain, and my noble lord the disquiet, and Master Tressilian, since belike he must be thought of in the matter, the danger which is like to ensue. I can see nought of all these terrible consequences, said the lady composedly, unless by imputing to my noble lord unworthy thoughts, which I am sure never harboured in his generous heart. Far be it from me to do so, said Varney. And then, after a moments silence, he added, with a real or affected plainness of manner, very different from his usual smooth courtesy, Come, madam, I will show you that a courtier dare speak truth as well as another, when it concerns the weal of those whom he honours and regards, ay, and although it may infer his own danger. He waited as if to receive commands, or at least permission, to go on; but as the lady remained silent, he proceeded, but obviously with caution. Look around you, he said, noble lady, and observe the barriers with which this place is surrounded, the studious mystery with which the brightest jewel that England possesses is secluded from the admiring gaze. See with what rigour your walks are circumscribed, and your movement restrained at the beck of yonder churlish Foster. Consider all this, and judge for yourself what can be the cause. My lords pleasure, answered the Countess; and I am bound to seek no other motive. His pleasure it is indeed, said Varney; and his pleasure arises out of a love worthy of the object which inspires it. But he who possesses a treasure, and who values it, is oft anxious, in proportion to the value he puts upon it, to secure it from the depredations of others. What needs all this talk, Master Varney? said the lady, in reply. You would have me believe that my noble lord is jealous. Suppose it true, I know a cure for jealousy. Indeed, madam? said Varney. It is, replied the lady, to speak the truth to my lord at all times--to hold up my mind and my thoughts before him as pure as that polished mirror--so that when he looks into my heart, he shall only see his own features reflected there. I am mute, madam, answered Varney; and as I have no reason to grieve for Tressilian, who would have my hearts blood were he able, I shall reconcile myself easily to what may befall the gentleman in consequence of your frank disclosure of his having presumed to intrude upon your solitude. You, who know my lord so much better than I, will judge if he be likely to bear the insult unavenged. Nay, if I could think myself the cause of Tressilians ruin, said the Countess, I who have already occasioned him so much distress, I might be brought to be silent. And yet what will it avail, since he was seen by Foster, and I think by some one else? No, no, Varney, urge it no more. I will tell the whole matter to my lord; and with such pleading for Tressilians folly, as shall dispose my lords generous heart rather to serve than to punish him. Your judgment, madam, said Varney, is far superior to mine, especially as you may, if you will, prove the ice before you step on it, by mentioning Tressilians name to my lord, and observing how he endures it. For Foster and his attendant, they know not Tressilian by sight, and I can easily give them some reasonable excuse for the appearance of an unknown stranger. The lady paused for an instant, and then replied, If, Varney, it be indeed true that Foster knows not as yet that the man he saw was Tressilian, I own I were unwilling he should learn what nowise concerns him. He bears himself already with austerity enough, and I wish him not to be judge or privy-councillor in my affairs. Tush, said Varney, what has the surly groom to do with your ladyships concerns?--no more, surely, than the ban-dog which watches his courtyard. If he is in aught distasteful to your ladyship, I have interest enough to have him exchanged for a seneschal that shall be more agreeable to you. Master Varney, said the Countess, let us drop this theme. When I complain of the attendants whom my lord has placed around me, it must be to my lord himself.--Hark! I hear the trampling of horse. He comes! he comes! she exclaimed, jumping up in ecstasy. I cannot think it is he, said Varney; or that you can hear the tread of his horse through the closely-mantled casements. Stop me not, Varney--my ears are keener than thine. It is he! But, madam!--but, madam! exclaimed Varney anxiously, and still placing himself in her way, I trust that what I have spoken in humble duty and service will not be turned to my ruin? I hope that my faithful advice will not be bewrayed to my prejudice? I implore that-- Content thee, man--content thee! said the Countess, and quit my skirt--you are too bold to detain me. Content thyself, I think not of thee. At this moment the folding-doors flew wide open, and a man of majestic mien, muffled in the folds of a long dark riding-cloak, entered the apartment. CHAPTER VII. This is he Who rides on the court-gale; controls its tides; Knows all their secret shoals and fatal eddies; Whose frown abases, and whose smile exalts. He shines like any rainbow--and, perchance, His colours are as transient.--OLD PLAY. There was some little displeasure and confusion on the Countesss brow, owing to her struggle with Varneys pertinacity; but it was exchanged for an expression of the purest joy and affection, as she threw herself into the arms of the noble stranger who entered, and clasping him to her bosom, exclaimed, At length--at length thou art come! Varney discreetly withdrew as his lord entered, and Janet was about to do the same, when her mistress signed to her to remain. She took her place at the farther end of the apartment, and continued standing, as if ready for attendance. Meanwhile the Earl, for he was of no inferior rank, returned his ladys caress with the most affectionate ardour, but affected to resist when she strove to take his cloak from him. Nay, she said, but I will unmantle you. I must see if you have kept your word to me, and come as the great Earl men call thee, and not as heretofore like a private cavalier. Thou art like the rest of the world, Amy, said the Earl, suffering her to prevail in the playful contest; the jewels, and feathers, and silk are more to them than the man whom they adorn--many a poor blade looks gay in a velvet scabbard. But so cannot men say of thee, thou noble Earl, said his lady, as the cloak dropped on the floor, and showed him dressed as princes when they ride abroad; thou art the good and well-tried steel, whose inly worth deserves, yet disdains, its outward ornaments. Do not think Amy can love thee better in this glorious garb than she did when she gave her heart to him who wore the russet-brown cloak in the woods of Devon. And thou too, said the Earl, as gracefully and majestically he led his beautiful Countess towards the chair of state which was prepared for them both--thou too, my love, hast donned a dress which becomes thy rank, though it cannot improve thy beauty. What thinkst thou of our court taste? The lady cast a sidelong glance upon the great mirror as they passed it by, and then said, I know not how it is, but I think not of my own person while I look at the reflection of thine. Sit thou there, she said, as they approached the chair of state, like a thing for men to worship and to wonder at. Ay, love, said the Earl, if thou wilt share my state with me. Not so, said the Countess; I will sit on this footstool at thy feet, that I may spell over thy splendour, and learn, for the first time, how princes are attired. And with a childish wonder, which her youth and rustic education rendered not only excusable but becoming, mixed as it was with a delicate show of the most tender conjugal affection, she examined and admired from head to foot the noble form and princely attire of him who formed the proudest ornament of the court of Englands Maiden Queen, renowned as it was for splendid courtiers, as well as for wise counsellors. Regarding affectionately his lovely bride, and gratified by her unrepressed admiration, the dark eye and noble features of the Earl expressed passions more gentle than the commanding and aspiring look which usually sat upon his broad forehead, and in the piercing brilliancy of his dark eye; and he smiled at the simplicity which dictated the questions she put to him concerning the various ornaments with which he was decorated. The embroidered strap, as thou callest it, around my knee, he said, is the English Garter, an ornament which kings are proud to wear. See, here is the star which belongs to it, and here the Diamond George, the jewel of the order. You have heard how King Edward and the Countess of Salisbury-- Oh, I know all that tale, said the Countess, slightly blushing, and how a ladys garter became the proudest badge of English chivalry. Even so, said the Earl; and this most honourable Order I had the good hap to receive at the same time with three most noble associates, the Duke of Norfolk, the Marquis of Northampton, and the Earl of Rutland. I was the lowest of the four in rank--but what then? he that climbs a ladder must begin at the first round. But this other fair collar, so richly wrought, with some jewel like a sheep hung by the middle attached to it, what, said the young Countess, does that emblem signify? TO BE CONTINUED
Posted on: Mon, 25 Nov 2013 19:58:58 +0000
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