Two Penniless Princesses

by Charlotte M. Yonge

  CHAPTER 8. STINGS

  'Yet one asylum is my own, Against the dreaded hour; A long, a silent, and a lone, Where kings have little power.'--SCOTT.

  At Chalons, the Sieur de Terreforte and his son Olivier, a veryquiet, stiff, and well-trained youth, met Sir Patrick and the Lady ofGlenuskie. Terreforte was within the province of Champagne, and aslong as the Court remained at Chalons the Sieur felt bound to remain inattendance on the King--lodging at his own house, or hotel, as he calledit, in the city. Dame Lilias did not regret anything which gave her alittle more time with her daughter, and enabled Annis to make a littlemore acquaintance with her bridegroom and his family before beingleft alone with them. Moreover, she hoped to see something more of hercousins the princesses.

  But they came not. The Dauphin and his wife arrived from their excursionand took up their abode in the Castle of Surry le Chateau, at a shortdistance from thence and thither went the Lady of Glenuskie with herhusband to pay her respects, and present the betrothed of her daughter.

  Margaret was sitting in a shady nook of the walls, under the shade of atall, massive tower, with a page reading to her, but in that impulsivemanner which the Court of France thought grossiere and sauvage; sheran down the stone stairs and threw herself on the neck of her cousin,exclaiming, however, 'But where are my sisters?'

  'Are they not with your Grace? I thought to find them here!'

  'Nay! They were to start two days after us, with an escort of archers,while we visited the shrine of St. Menehould. They might have been herebefore us,' exclaimed Margaret, in much alarm. 'My husband thought ourtrain would be too large if they went with us.'

  'If we had known that they were not to be with your Grace, we would havetarried for them,' said Dame Lilias.

  'Oh, cousin, would that you bad!'

  'Mayhap King Rene and his daughter persuaded them to wait a few days.'

  That was the best hope, but there was much uneasiness when another daypassed and the Scottish princesses did not appear. Strange whispers,coming from no one knew where, began to be current that they haddisappeared in company with some of those wild and gay knights who hadmet at the tournament at Nanci.

  In extreme alarm and indignation, Margaret repaired to her husband.He was kneeling before the shrine of the Lady in the Chapel of Surry,telling his beads, and he did not stir, or look round, or relax onemurmur of his Aves, while she paced about, wrung her hands, and vainlytried to control her agitation. At last he rose, and coldly said, 'Iknew it could be no other who thus interrupted my devotions.'

  'My sisters!' she gasped.

  'Well, what of them?'

  'Do you know what wicked things are said of them--the dear maids?Ah!'--as she saw his strange smile--'you have heard! You will silencethe fellows, who deserve to have their tongues torn out for defaming aking's daughters.'

  'Verily, ma mie,' said Louis, 'I see no such great improbability in thetale. They have been bred up to the like, no doubt a mountain kite ofthe Vosges is a more congenial companion than a chevalier bien courtois.'

  'You speak thus simply to tease your poor Margot,' she said, pleadingyet trembling; 'but I know better than to think you mean it.'

  'As my lady pleases,' he said.

  'Then will I send Sir Patrick with an escort to seek them at Nanci andbring them hither?'

  'Where is this same troop to come from?' demanded Louis.

  'Our own Scottish archers, who will see no harm befall my blessedfather's daughters.'

  'Ha! say you so? I had heard a different story from Buchan, from theGrahams, the Halls. Revenge is sweet--as your mother found it.'

  'The murderers had only their deserts.'

  Louis shrugged his shoulders, 'That is as their sons may think.'

  'No one would be so dastardly as to wreak vengeance on two younghelpless maids,' cried Margaret. 'Oh! sir, help me; what think you?'

  'Madame knows better than I do the spirit alike of her sisters and ofher own countrymen.'

  'Nay, nay, Monsieur, husband, do but help me! My poor sisters in thisstrange land! You, who are wiser than all, tell me what can have becomeof them?'

  'What can I say, Madame? Love--love of the minstrel kind seems to runin the family. You all have supped full thereof at Nanci. If report saidtrue, there was a secret lover in their suite. What so likely as thatthe May game should have become earnest?'

  'But, sir, we are accountable. My sisters were entrusted to us.'

  'Not to me,' said Louis. 'If the boy, your brother, expected me tofind husbands and dowers for a couple of wild, penniless, feather-pateddamsels-errant, he expected far too much. I know far too well what areScotch manners and ideas of decorum to charge myself with the like.'

  'Sir, do you mean to insult me?' demanded Margaret, rising to the fullheight of her tall stature.

  'That is as Madame may choose to fit the cap,' he said, with a bow; 'Iaccuse her of nothing,' but there was an ironical smile on his thin lipswhich almost maddened her.

  'Speak out; oh, sir, tell me what you dare to mean!' she said, with astamp of her foot, clasping her hands tightly. He only bowed again.

  'I know there are evil tongues abroad,' said Margaret, with a desperateeffort to command her voice; 'but I heeded them no more than the midgesin the air while I knew my lord and husband heeded them not! But--oh!say you do not.'

  'Have I said that I did?'

  'Then for a proof--dismiss and silence that foul-slandering wretch,Jamet de Tillay.'

  'A true woman's imagination that to dismiss is to silence,' he laughed.

  'It would show at least that you will not brook to have your wifedefamed! Oh! sir, sir,' she cried, 'I only ask what any other husbandwould have done long ago of his own accord and rightful anger. Smile notthus--or you will see me frenzied.'

  'Smiles best befit woman's tears,' said Louis coolly. 'One moment foryour sisters, the next for yourself.'

  'Ah! my sisters! my sisters! Wretch that I am, to have thought ofmy worthless self for one moment. Ah! you are only teasing your poorMargot! You will act for your own honour and theirs in sending out toseek them!'

  'My honour and theirs may be best served by their being forgotten.'

  Margaret became inarticulate with dismay, indignation, disappointment,as these envenomed stings went to her very soul, further pointed by thecurl of Louis's thin lips and the sinister twinkle of his little eyes.Almost choked, she stammered forth the demand what he meant, only tobe answered that he did not pretend to understand the Scottish errantnature, and pointing to a priest entering the church, he bade her notmake herself conspicuous, and strolled away.

  Margaret's despair and agony were inexpressible. She stood for someminutes leaning against a pillar to collect her senses. Then her firstthought was of consulting the Drummonds, and she impetuously dashedback to her own apartments and ordered her palfrey and suite to be readyinstantly to take her to Chalons.

  Madame la Dauphine's palfreys were all gone to Ghalons to be shod.In fact, there were some games going on there, and trusting to theeasy-going habits of their mistress, almost all her attendants hadlounged off thither, even the maidens, as well as the pages, who feltMadame de Ste. Petronelle's sharp eyes no longer over them.

  'Tell me,' said Margaret, to the one lame, frightened old man who aloneseemed able to reply to her call, 'do you know who commanded the escortwhich were with my sisters, the Princesses of Scotland?'

  The old man threw up his hands. How should he know? 'The escort was ofthe savage Scottish archers.'

  'I know that; but can you not tell who they were--nor their commander?'

  'Ah! Madame knows that their names are such as no Christian ears canunderstand, nor lips speak!'

  'I had thought it was the Sire Andrew Gordon who was to go with them. Hewith the blue housings on the dapple grey.'

  'No, Madame; I heard the Captain Mercour say Monsieur le Dauphinhad other orders for him. It was the little dark one--how call theyhim?--ah! with a more reasonable name--Le Halle, who
led the party ofMesdames. Madame! Madame! let me call some of Madame's women!'

  'No, no,' gasped Margaret, knowing indeed that none whom she wished tosee were within call. 'Thanks, Jean, here--now go,' and she flung him acoin.

  She knew now that whatever had befallen her sisters had been by theconnivance if not the contrivance of her husband, unwilling to have thecharge and the portioning of the two penniless maidens imposed upon him.And what might not that fate be, betrayed into the hands of one who hadso deadly a blood-feud with their parents! For Hall was the son of oneof the men whose daggers had slain James I., and whose crime had beenvisited with such vindictive cruelty by Queen Joanna. The man's eyeshad often scowled at her, as if he longed for vengeance--and thus had itbeen granted him.

  Margaret, with understanding to appreciate Louis's extraordinaryability, had idolised him throughout in spite of his constant coldnessand the satire with which he treated all her higher tastes andaspirations, continually throwing her in and back upon herself, andblighting her instincts wherever they turned. She had accepted all thisas his superiority to her folly, and though the thwarted and unfosteredinclinations in her strong unstained nature had occasioned thoseaberrations and distorted impulses which brought blame on her, she hadaccepted everything hitherto as her own fault, and believed in, andadored the image she had made of him throughout. Now it was as if heridol had turned suddenly into a viper in her bosom, not only stingingher by implied acquiescence in the slanders upon her discretion, if notupon her fair fame, but actually having betrayed her innocent sisters bymeans of the deadly enemy of their family--to what fate she knew not.

  To act became an immediate need to the unhappy Dauphiness at once, asthe only vent to her own misery, and because she must without loss oftime do something for the succour of her young sisters, or ascertaintheir fate.

  She did not spend a moment's thought on the censure any imprudentmeasure of her own might bring on her, but hastily summoning the onlytirewoman within reach, she exchanged her blue and gold embroidered robefor a dark serge which she wore on days of penance, with a mantle andhood of the same, and, to Linette's horror and dismay, bade her attendher on foot to the Hotel de Terreforte, in Chalons.

  Linette was in no position to remonstrate, but could only follow, as thelady, wrapped in her cloak, descended the steps, and crossed the emptyhall. The porter let her pass unquestioned, but there were a few guardsat the great gateway, and one shouted, 'Whither away, pretty Linette?'

  Margaret raised her hood and looked full at him, and he fell back. Heknew her, and knew that Madame la Dauphine did strange things. The roadwas stony and bare and treeless, unfrequented at first, and it was verysultry, the sun shining with a heavy melting heat on Margaret's weightygarments; but she hurried on, never feeling the heat, or hearingLinette's endeavours to draw her attention to the heavy bank of grayclouds tinged with lurid red gradually rising, and whence threateninggrowls of thunder were heard from time to time. She really seemed torush forward, and poor, panting Linette toiled after her, feeling readyto drop, while the way was as yet unobstructed, as the two beautifulsteeples of the Cathedral and Notre Dame de l'Epine rose before them;but after a time, as they drew nearer, the road became obstructed bycarts, waggons, donkeys, crowded with country-folks and their wares,with friars and ragged beggars, all pressing into the town, and jostlingone another and the two foot-passengers all the more as rain-drops beganto fall, and the thunder sounded nearer.

  Margaret had been used to walking, but it was all within parks andpleasances, and she was not at all used to being pushed about andjostled. Linette knew how to make her way far better, and it was wellfor them that their dark dresses and hoods and Linette's elderly facegave the idea of their being votaresses of some sacred order, and sosecured them from actual personal insult; but as they clung togetherthey were thrust aside and pushed about, while the throng grew thicker,the streets narrower, the storm heavier, the air more stifling andunsavoury.

  A sudden rush nearly knocked them down, driving them under a gargoyle,whose spout was streaming with wet, and completed the drenching; butthere was a porch and an open door of a church close behind, and intothis Linette dragged her mistress. Dripping, breathless, bruised, sheleant against a pillar, not going forward, for others, much more gailydressed, had taken refuge there, and were chattering away, for littlereverence was paid at that date to the sanctity of buildings.

  'Will the King be there, think you?' eagerly asked a young girl, who hadbeen anxiously wiping the wet from her pink kirtle.

  'Certes--he is to give the prizes,' replied a portly dame in crimson.

  'And the Lady of Beauty? I long to see her.'

  'Her beauty is passing--except that which was better worth the solidcastle the King gave her,' laughed the stout citizen, who seemed to bein charge of them.

  'The Dauphiness, too--will she be there?'

  'Ah, the Dauphiness!' said the elder woman, with a meaning sound andshake of the head.

  'Scandal--evil tongues!' growled the man.

  'Nay, Master Jerome, there's no denying it, for a merchant of Bourgestold me. She runs about the country on foot, like no discreet woman, letalone a princess, with a good-for-nothing minstrel after her. Ah, youmay grunt and make signs, but I had it from the Countess de Craylierre'sown tirewoman, who came for a bit of lace, that the Dauphin is about to the Sire Jamet de Tillay caught her kissing the minstrel on a bench inthe garden at Nanci.'

  'I would not trust the Sire de Tillay's word. He is in debt to everymerchant of the place--a smooth-tongued deceiver. Belike he is bribedto defame the poor lady, that the Dauphin may rid himself of a childlesswife.'

  The young girl was growing restless, declaring that the rain was over,and that they should miss the getting good places at the show. Margarethad stood all this time leaning against her pillar, with hands clenchedtogether and teeth firm set, trying to control the shuddering ofhorror and indignation that went through her whole frame. She startedconvulsively when Linette moved after the burgher, but put a force uponherself when she perceived that it was in order to inquire how best toreach the Hotel de Terreforte.

  He pointed to the opposite door of the church, and Linette,reconnoitring and finding that it led into a street entirely quiet anddeserted, went back to the Dauphiness, whom she found sunk on her knees,stiff and dazed.

  'Come, Madame,' she entreated, trying to raise her, 'the Hotel deTerreforte is near, these houses shelter us, and the rain is nearlyover.'

  Margaret did not move at first; then she looked up and said, 'What wasit that they said, Linette?'

  'Oh! no matter what they said, Madame; they were ignorant creatures,who knew not what they were talking about. Come, you are wet, you areexhausted. This good lady will know how to help you.'

  'There is no help in man,' said Margaret, wildly stretching out herarms. 'Oh, God! help me--a desolate woman--and my sisters! Betrayed!betrayed!'

  Very much alarmed, Linette at last succeeded in raising her to her feet,and guiding her, half-blinded as she seemed, to the portal of the Hotelde Terreforte--an archway leading into a courtyard. It was by great goodfortune that the very first person who stood within it was old Andrewof the Cleugh, who despised all French sports in comparison with thecompleteness of his master's equipment, and was standing at the gate,about to issue forth in quest of leather to mend a defective strap. Hiseyes fell on the forlorn wanderer, who had no longer energy to keep herhood forward. 'My certie! he exclaimed, in utter amaze.

  The Scottish words and voice seemed to revive Margaret, and she totteredforward, exclaiming, 'Oh! good man, help me! take me to the Lady.'

  Fortunately the Lady of Glenuskie, being much busied in preparations forher journey, had sent Annis to the sports with the Lady of Terreforte,and was ready to receive the poor, drenched, exhausted being, who almoststumbled into her motherly arms, weeping bitterly, and incoherentlymoaning something about her sisters, and her husband, and 'betrayed.'

  Old Christie was happily also at home, and dry clo
thing, a warm posset,and the Lady's own bed, perhaps still more her soothing caresses,brought Margaret back to the power of explaining her distressintelligibly--at least as regarded her sisters. She had discovered thattheir escort had been that bitter foe of their house, Robert Hall, andshe verily believed that he had betrayed her sisters into the hands ofsome of the routiers who infested the roads.

  Dame Lilias could not but think it only too likely; but she said 'theworst that could well befall the poor lassies in that case would betheir detention until a ransom was paid, and if their situation wasknown, the King, the Dauphin, and the Duke of Brittany would be certainone or other to rescue them by force of arms, if not to raise themoney.' She saw how Margaret shuddered at the name of the Dauphin.

  'Oh! I have jewels--pearls--gold,' cried Margaret. 'I could pay the sumwithout asking any one! Only, where are they, where are they? What arethey not enduring--the dear maidens! Would that I had never let them outof my sight!'

  'Would that I had not!' echoed Dame Lilias. 'But cheer up, dear Lady,Madame de Ste. Petronelle is with them and will watch over them; andshe knows the ways of the country, and how to deal with these robbers,whoever they may be. She will have a care of them.'

  But though the Lady of Glenuskie tried to cheer the unhappy princess,she was full of consternation and misgivings as to the fate of heryoung cousins, whom she loved heartily, and she was relieved when, inaccordance with the summons that she had sent, her husband's spurs wereheard ringing on the stair.

  He heard the story with alarm. He knew that Sir Andrew Gordon had beentold off to lead the convoy, and had even conversed with him on thesubject.

  'Who exchanged him for Hall?' he inquired.

  'Oh, do not ask,' cried the unhappy Margaret, covering her face withher hands, and the shrewder Scots folk began to understand, as glancespassed between them, though they spared her.

  She had intended throwing herself at the feet of the King, who had neverbeen unkind to her, and imploring his succour; but Sir Patrick broughtword that the King and Dauphin were going forth together to visit theAbbot of a shrine at no great distance, and as soon as she heard thatthe Dauphin was with his father, she shrank together, and gave up herpurpose for the present. Indeed, Sir Patrick thought it advisable forhim to endeavour to discover what had really become of the princessesbefore applying to the King, or making their loss public. Nor was theDauphiness in a condition to repair to Court. Dame Lilias longed tokeep her and nurse and comfort her that evening; but while the spitefulwhispers of De Tillay were abroad, it was needful to be doubly prudent,and the morning's escapade must if possible be compensated by a publicreturn to Chateau le Surry. So Margaret was placed on Lady Drummond'spalfrey, and accompanied home by all the attendants who could be gottogether. She could hardly sit upright by the time the short ride wasover, for pain in the side and stitch in her breath. Again Lady Drummondwould have stayed with her, but the Countess de Craylierre, who had beenextremely offended and scandalised by the expedition of the Dauphiness,made her understand that no one could remain there except by theinvitation of the Dauphin, and showed great displeasure at any one butherself attempting the care of Madame la Dauphine, who, as all knew, wassubject to megrims.

  Margaret entreated her belle cousine to return in the morning and tellher what had been done, and Dame Lilias accordingly set forth with Annisimmediately after mass and breakfast with the news that Sir Patrickhad taken counsel with the Sieur de erreforte, and that they had gottogether such armed attendants as they could, and started with theirsons for Nanci, where they hoped to discover some traces of the lostladies.

  Indeed, he had brought his wife on his way, and was waiting in the courtin case the Princess should wish to see him before he went; but Liliasfound poor Margaret far too ill for this to be of any avail. She hadtossed about all night, and now was lying partly raised on a pile ofembroidered, gold-edged pillows, under an enormous, stiff, heavy quilt,gorgeous with heraldic colours and devices, her pale cheeks flushed withfever, her breath catching painfully, and with a terrible short cough,murmuring strange words about her sisters, and about cruel tongues. Acrowd of both sexes and all ranks filled the room, gazing and listening.

  She knew her cousin at her entrance, clasped her hand tight, and seemedto welcome her native tongue, and understand her assurance that SirPatrick was gone to seek her sisters; but she wandered off into, 'Don'tlet him ask Jamet. Ah, Katie Douglas, keep the door! They are coming.'

  Her husband, returning from the morning mass, had way made for him as headvanced to the bed, and again her understanding partly returned, as hesaid in his low, dry voice, 'How now, Madame?'

  She looked up at him, held out her hot hand, and gasped, 'Oh, sir, sir,where are they?'

  'Be more explicit, ma mie,' he said, with an inscrutable face.

  'You know, you know. Oh, husband, my Lord, you do not believe it. Sayyou do not believe it. Send the whispering fiend away. He has hidden mysisters.'

  'She raves,' said Louis. 'Has the chirurgeon been with her?'

  'He is even now about to bleed her, my Lord,' said Madame de Craylierre,'and so I have sent for the King's own physician.'

  Louis's barber-surgeon (not yet Olivier le Dain) was a little, crookedold Jew, at sight of whom Margaret screamed as if she took him for thewhispering fiend. He would fain have cleared the room and relieved theair, but this was quite beyond his power; the ladies, knights, pages andall chose to remain and look on at the struggles of the poor patient,while Madame de Craylierre and Lady Drummond held her fast and forcedher to submit. Her husband, who alone could have prevailed, did not orwould not speak the word, but shrugged his shoulders and left the room,carrying off with him at least his own attendants.

  When she saw her blood flow, Margaret exclaimed, 'Ah, traitors, take meinstead of my father--only--a priest.'

  Presently she fainted, and after partly reviving, seemed to doze, andthis, being less interesting, caused many of the spectators to depart.

  When she awoke she was quite herself, and this was well, for the Kingcame to visit her. Margaret was fond of her father-in-law, who hadalways been kind to her; but she was too ill, and speech hurt her toomuch, to allow her to utter clearly all that oppressed her.

  'My sisters! my poor sisters!' she moaned.

  'Ah! ma belle fille, fear not. All will be well with them. No doubt, mygood brother Rene has detained them, that Madame Eleanore may study alittle more of his music and painting. We will send a courier to Nanci,who will bring good news of them,' said the King, in a caressing voicewhich soothed, if it did not satisfy, the sufferer.

  She spoke out some thanks, and he added, 'They may come any moment,daughter, and that will cheer your little heart, and make you well. Onlytake courage, child, and here is my good physician, Maitre Bertrand,come to heal you.'

  Margaret still held the King's hand, and sought to detain him. 'Beaupere, beau pere,' she said, 'you will not believe them! You will silencethem.'

  'Whom, what, ma mie?'

  'The evil-speakers. Ah! Jamet.'

  'I believe nothing my fair daughter tells me not to believe.'

  'Ah! sire, he speaks against me. He says--'

  'Hush! hush, child. Whoever vexes my daughter shall have his tongue slitfor him. But here we must give place to Maitre Bertrand.'

  Maitre Bertrand was a fat and stolid personage, who, nevertheless, hada true doctor's squabble with the Jew Samiel and drove him out. Histreatment was to exclude all the air possible, make the patient breatheall sorts of essences, and apply freshly-killed pigeons to the painfulside.

  Margaret did not mend under this method. She begged for Samiel, who hadseveral times before relieved her in slight illnesses; but she was givento understand that the Dauphin would not permit him to interfere withMaitre Bertrand.

  'Ah!' she said to Dame Lilias, in their own language, 'my husband callsBertrand an old fool! He does not wish me to recover! A childless wifeis of no value. He would have me dead! And so would I--if my fame werecleared. If my sisters
were found! Oh! my Lord, my Lord, I loved himso!'

  Poor Margaret! Such was her cry, whether sane or delirious, hour afterhour, day after day. Only when delirious she rambled into Scotch andtalked of Perth; went over again her father's murder, or fancied hersisters in the hands of some of the ferocious chieftains of the North,and screamed to Sir Patrick or to Geordie Douglas to deliver them. Wherewas all the chivalry of the Bleeding Heart?

  Or, again, she would piteously plead her own cause with her husband--notthat he was present, a morning glance into her room sufficed him; butshe would excuse her own eager folly--telling him not to be angered withher, who loved him wholly and entirely, and begging him to silence thewicked tongues that defamed her.

  When sensible she was very weak, and capable of saying very little; butshe clung fast to Lady Drummond, and, Dauphin or no Dauphin, Dame Liliaswas resolved on remaining and watching her day and night, Madame deCraylierre becoming ready to leave the nursing to her when it becamesevere.

  The King came to see his daughter-in-law almost every day, and alwaysspoke to her in the same kindly but unmeaning vein, assuring her thather sisters must be safe, and promising to believe nothing againstherself; but, as the Lady of Glenuskie knew from Olivier de Terreforte,taking no measures either to discover the fate of the princesses or tobanish and silence Jamet de Tillay, though it was all over the Courtthat the Dauphiness was dying for love of Alain Chartier. Was it thathis son prevented him from acting, or was it the strange indifferenceand indolence that always made Charles the Well-Served bestir himselffar too late?

  Any way, Margaret of Scotland was brokenhearted, utterly weary of life,and with no heart or spirit to rally from the illness caused by thechill of her hasty walk. She only wished to live long enough to knowthat her sisters were safe, see them again, and send them under safecare to Brittany. She exacted a promise from Dame Lilias never to leavethem again till they were in safe hands, with good husbands, or backin Scotland with their brother and good Archbishop Kennedy. 'Bid Jeanienever despise a true heart; better, far better, than a crown,' shesighed.

  Louis concerned himself much that all the offices of religion should beprovided. He attended the mass daily celebrated in her room, and causedpriests to pray in the farther end continually. Lady Drummond, who hadnot given up hope, and believed that good tidings of her sisters mightalmost be a cure, thought that he really hurried on the last offices, atwhich he devoutly assisted. However, the confession seemed to have givenMargaret much comfort. She told Dame Lilias that the priest had shownher how to make an offering to God of her sore suffering from slanderand evil report, and reminded her that to endure it patiently wastreading in the steps of her Master. She was resolved, therefore, tomake no further struggle nor complaint, but to trust that her silenceand endurance would be accepted. She could pray for her sisters andtheir safety, and she would endeavour to yield up even that last earthlydesire to be certified of their safety, and to see their bonnie facesonce more. So there she lay, a being formed by nature and intellect tohave been the inspiring helpmeet of some noble-hearted man, the stay ofa kingdom, the education of all around her in all that was beautiful andrefined, but cast away upon one of the most mean and selfish-hearted ofmankind, who only perceived her great qualities to hate and dread theirmanifestation in a woman, to crush them by his contempt; and finally,though he did not originate the cruel slander that broke her heart,he envenomed it by his sneers, so as to deprive her of all power ofresistance.

  The lot of Margaret of Scotland was as piteous as that of any of thedoomed house of Stewart. And there the Lady of Glenuskie and Annisde Terreforte watched her sinking day by day, and still there were notidings of Jean and Eleanor from Nanci, no messenger from Sir Patrick totell where the search was directed.