Constance Sherwood: An Autobiography of the Sixteenth Century
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had not long beforeforsaken all worldly pleasure, and for the sake of his religion aloneendured dreadful torments. Then within myself I made long discoursesconcerning his manner of living and mine own; and finding the one toembrace pain and mortification, and the other to seek pleasure--theone to live strictly, and the other licentiously--I was struck withexceeding terror and remorse. I wept bitterly, desiring God toilluminate mine understanding, that I might see and perceive thetruth. Oh, what great joy and consolation did I feel at thatinstant! What reverence on the sudden did I begin to bear to theBlessed Virgin and to the Saints of God, which before I had neverscarcely so much as heard of! What strange emotions, as it wereinspirations, with exceeding readiness of will to change my religion,took possession of my soul! and what heavenly conception had I then ofmy brother's felicity! I imagined I saw him--I thought I heard him. Inthis ecstasy of mind I made a vow upon the spot, as I lay prostrate onthe ground, to forsake kindred and country, to find out the trueknowledge of Edmund's faith. Oh, sir," he ended by saying, turning toMr. Adams, which he guessed to be a priest, "think you not my brotherobtained for me in heaven what on earth he had not obtained? for hereI am become a Catholic in faith without persuasion or conference withany one man in the world?"
"Ay, my good friend," Mr. Adams replied; "the blood of martyrs willever prove the seed of the Church. Let us then, in our privateprayers, implore the suffrages of those who in this country do losetheir lives for the faith, and take unto ourselves the words ofJeremiah: 'O Lord, remember what has happened unto us. Behold and seeour great reproach; our inheritance is gone to strangers, our housesto aliens. We are become as children without a father, our mothers aremade as it were widows.'"
These last words of Holy Writ brought to mine own mind privatesorrows, and caused me to shed tears. Soon after John Genings departedfrom England without giving notice to us or any of his friends, andwent beyond seas to execute his promise. I have heard that he hasentered the holy order of St. Francis, and is seeking to procure aconvent of that religion at Douay, in hopes of restoring the EnglishFranciscan province, of which it is supposed he will be firstprovincial. Report doth state him to be an exceeding strict and holyreligious, and like to prove an instrument in furnishing the Englishmission with many zealous and apostolical laborers.
Muriel and I were solitary in that great city where so manymisfortunes had beset us; she with her anchor cast where her hopescould not be deceived; I by mine own folly like unto a ship at seawithout a chart. Womanly reserve, mixed, I ween, with somewhat ofpride, restraining me from writing to Basil, though, as my faceimproved each day, I deplored my hasty folly, and desired nothing somuch as to see him again, when, if his love should prove unchanged(shame on that word _if!_ which my heart disavowed), we should be asheretofore, and the suffering I had caused him and endured myselfwould end. But how this might happen I foresaw not; and life was sadand weary while so much suspense lasted.
Muriel would not forsake me while in this plight; but although nonecould have judged it from her cheerful and amiable behavior, I wellknew that she sighed for the haven of a religions home, and grieved tokeep her from it. After some weeks spent in this fashion, with verylittle comfort, I was sitting one morning dismally forecasting thefuture, writing letter after letter to Basil, which still I tore uprather than send them--for I warrant you it was no easy matter for toexpress in writing what I longed to say. To tell him the cause of mybreaking our contract was so much as to compel him to the performanceof it; and albeit I was no longer so ill-favored as at the first, yetthe good looks I had before my sickness had by no means whollyreturned. Sometimes I wrote: "Your thinking, dear Basil, that I doaffection any but yourself is so false and injurious an imagination,that I cannot suffer you to entertain it. Be sure I never can andnever shall love any but you; yet, for all that, I cannot marry you."Then effacing this last sentence, which verily belied my true desire,I would write another: "Methinks if you should see me now, yourselfwould not wish otherwise than to dissolve a contract whereinyour contentment should be less than it hath been." And then thinkingthis should be too obscure, changed it to--"In sooth, dear Basil, myappearance is so altered that you would yourself, I ween, not desirefor to wed one so different from the Constance you have seen andloved." But pride whispered to restrain this open mention of mysuspicious fears of his liking me less for my changed face; yetwithal, conscience reproved this misdoubt of one whose affection hadever shown itself to be of the nobler sort, which looketh rather tothe qualities of the heart and mind than to the exterior charms of afair visage.
Alas! what a torment doth perplexity occasion. I had let go my pen,and my tears were falling on the paper, when Muriel opened the door ofthe parlor.
"What is it?" I cried, hiding my face with mine hand that she shouldnot see me weeping.
"A letter from Lady Arundel," she answered.
I eagerly took it from her; and on the reading of it found itcontained an urgent request from her ladyship, couched in mostaffectionate terms, and masking the kindness of its intent under ashow of entreating, as a favor to herself that I would come and residewith her at Arundel Castle, where she greatly needed the solace of afriend's company, during her lord's necessary absences.
"Mine own dear, good Constance," she wrote, "come to me quickly. In a letter I cannot well express all the good you will thus do to me. For mine own part, I would fain say come to me until death shall part us. But so selfish I would not be; yet prithee come until such time as the clouds which have obscured the fair sky of thy future prospects have passed away, and thy Basil's fortunes are mended; for I will not cease to call him thine, for all that thou hast thyself thrust a spoke in a wheel which otherwise should have run smoothly, for the which thou art now doing penance: but be of good cheer; time will bring thee shrift. Some kind of comfort I can promise thee in this house, greater than I dare for to commit to paper. Lose no time then. From thy last letter methinks the gentle turtle-dove at whose side thou dost now nestle hath found herself a nest whereunto she longeth to fly. Let her spread her wings thither, and do thou hasten to the shelter of these old walls and the loving faithful heart of thy poor friend, "ANNE ARUNDEL AND SURREY."
Before a fortnight was overpast Muriel and I had parted; she for herreligious home beyond seas, I for the castle of my Lord Arundel,whither I travelled in two days, resting on my way at the pleasantvillage of Horsham. During the latter part of the journey the road laythrough a very wild expanse of down; but as soon as I caught sight ofthe sea my heart bounded with joy; for to gaze on its blue expanseseemed to carry me beyond the limits of this isle to the land whereBasil dwelt. When I reached the castle, the sight of the noble gatewayand keep filled me with admiration; and riding into the court thereof,I looked with wonder on the military defences bristling on every side.But what a sweet picture smiled from one of the narrow windows overabove the entrance-door!--mine own loved friend, yet fairer in hermatronly and motherly beauty than even in her girlhood's loveliness,holding in her arms the pretty bud which had blossomed on a noble treein the time of adversity. Her countenance beamed on me like themorning sun's; and my heart expanded with joy when, half-way up thestairs which led to her chamber, I found myself inclosed in her arms.She led me to a settle near a cheerful fire, and herself removed myriding-cloak, my hat and veil, stroked my cheek with two of herdelicate white fingers, and said with a smile,
"In sooth, my dear Constance, thou art an arrant cheat."
"How so, most dear lady?" I said, likewise smiling.
"Why, thou art as comely as ever I thee; which, after all the tormentsinflicted on poor Master Rookwood by thy prophetical vision of aneverlasting deformity, carefully concealed from him under the garb ofa sudden fit of inconstancy, is a very nefarious injustice. Go to, goto; if he should see thee now, he never would believe but that thatmanagement of thine was a cunning device for to break faith with him."
"Nay, nay," I cried; "if I should be ever so happy, which I deservenot, for to see him again, there could never b
e for one moment amistrust on his part of a love which is too strong and too fond forconcealment. If the feebleness of sickness had not bred unreasonablefears, methinks I should not have been guilty of so great a folly asto think he would prize less what he was always wont most to treasurefar above their merits--the heart and mind of his poor Constance--because the casket which held them had waxed unseemly. But when theday shall come in which Basil and I may meet, God only knoweth. Humanforesight cannot attain to this prevision."
Lady Arundel's eyes had a smiling expression then which surprised me.For mine own heart was full when I thus spoke, and I was wont to meetin her with a more quick return of the like feelings I expressed thanat that time appeared. Slight inward resentments, painfully, albeitnot angrily, entertained, I was by nature prone to;