CHAPTER V. WEAL TO THE IDLER, WOE TO THE WORKMAN.
As Providence tempers the wind to the shorn lamb, so it possibly mightconform the heads of that day to a thickness suitable for the blows andknocks to which they were variously subjected; yet it was not withoutconsiderable effort and much struggling that Marmaduke's sensesrecovered the shock received, less by his flesh-wound and the loss ofblood, than a blow on the seat of reason that might have despatched apassable ox of these degenerate days. Nature, to say nothing of Madge'sleechcraft, ultimately triumphed, and Marmaduke woke one morning in fullpossession of such understanding as Nature had endowed him with. Hewas then alone, and it was with much simple surprise that he turned hislarge hazel eyes from corner to corner of the unfamiliar room. He beganto retrace and weave together sundry disordered and vague reminiscences:he commenced with the commencement, and clearly satisfied himself thathe had been grievously wounded and sorely bruised; he then recalled thesolitary light at the high lattice, and his memory found itself atthe porch of the large, lonely, ruinous old house; then all became abewildered and feverish dream. He caught at the vision of an old manwith a long beard, whom he associated, displeasingly, with recollectionsof pain; he glanced off to a fair face, with eyes that looked tenderpity whenever he writhed or groaned under the tortures that, no doubt,that old accursed carle had inflicted upon him. But even this facedid not dwell with pleasure in his memory,--it woke up confused andlabouring associations of something weird and witchlike, of sorceressesand tymbesteres, of wild warnings screeched in his ear, of incantationsand devilries and doom. Impatient of these musings, he sought to leapfrom his bed, and was amazed that the leap subsided into a totteringcrawl. He found an ewer and basin, and his ablutions refreshed andinvigorated him. He searched for his raiment, and discovered it allexcept the mantle, dagger, hat, and girdle; and while looking for these,his eye fell on an old tarnished steel mirror. He started as if he hadseen his ghost; was it possible that his hardy face could have wanedinto that pale and almost femininely delicate visage? With thepride (call it not coxcombry) that then made the care of person thedistinction of gentle birth, he strove to reduce into order the tangledlocks of the long hair, of which a considerable portion above a partthat seemed peculiarly sensitive to the touch had been mercilesslyclipped; and as he had just completed this task, with littlesatisfaction and much inward chafing at the lack of all befittingessences and perfumes, the door gently opened, and the fair face he haddreamed of appeared at the aperture.
The girl uttered a cry of astonishment and alarm at seeing the patientthus arrayed and convalescent, and would suddenly have retreated; butthe Nevile advanced, and courteously taking her hand--
"Fair maiden," said he, "if, as I trow, I owe to thy cares my tendingand cure--nay, it may be a life hitherto of little worth, save tomyself--do not fly from my thanks. May Our Lady of Walsingham bless andreward thee!"
"Sir," answered Sibyll, gently withdrawing her hands from his clasp,"our poor cares have been a slight return for thy generous protection tomyself."
"To thee! ah, forgive me--how could I be so dull? I remember thy facenow; and, perchance, I deserve the disaster I met with in leaving theeso discourteously. My heart smote me for it as my light footfall passedfrom thy side."
A slight blush, succeeded by a thoughtful smile--the smile of one whorecalls and caresses some not displeasing remembrance--passed overSibyll's charming countenance, as the sufferer said this with somethingof the grace of a well-born man, whose boyhood had been taught to serveGod and the Ladies.
There was a short pause before she answered, looking down, "Nay, sir, Iwas sufficiently beholden to you; and for the rest, all molestation wasover. But I will now call your nurse--for it is to our servant, notus, that your thanks are due--to see to your state, and administer theproper medicaments."
"Truly, fair damsel, it is not precisely medicaments that I hunger andthirst for; and if your hospitality could spare me from the larder amanchet, or a corner of a pasty, and from the cellar a stoup of wineor a cup of ale, methinks it would tend more to restore me than thosepotions which are so strange to my taste that they rather offend thantempt it; and, pardie, it seemeth to my poor senses as if I had notbroken bread for a week!"
"I am glad to hear you of such good cheer," answered Sibyll; "wait but amoment or so, till I consult your physician."
And, so saying, she closed the door, slowly descended the steps, andpursued her way into what seemed more like a vault than a habitableroom, where she found the single servant of the household. Time, whichmakes changes so fantastic in the dress of the better classes, has agreater respect for the costume of the humbler; and though thegarments were of a very coarse sort of serge, there was not so great adifference, in point of comfort and sufficiency, as might be supposed,between the dress of old Madge and that of some primitive servant inthe North during the last century. The old woman's face was thin andpinched; but its sharp expression brightened into a smile as she caughtsight, through the damps and darkness, of the gracious form of her youngmistress. "Ah, Madge," said Sibyll, with a sigh, "it is a sad thing tobe poor!"
"For such as thou, Mistress Sibyll, it is indeed. It does not matter forthe like of us. But it goes to my old heart when I see you shut up here,or worse, going out in that old courtpie and wimple,--you, a knight'sgrandchild; you, who have played round a queen's knees, and who mighthave been so well-to-do, an' my master had thought a little more of thegear of this world. But patience is a good palfrey, and will carry usa long day. And when the master has done what he looks for, why, theking--sith we must so call the new man on the throne--will be sure toreward him; but, sweetheart, tarry not here; it's an ill air for youryoung lips to drink in. What brings you to old Madge?"
"The stranger is recovered, and--"
"Ay, I warrant me, I have cured worse than he. He must have a spoonfulof broth,--I have not forgot it. You see I wanted no dinner myself--whatis dinner to old folks!--so I e'en put it all in the pot for him. Thebroth will be brave and strong."
"My poor Madge, God requite you for what you suffer for us! But he hasasked"--here was another sigh, and a downcast look that did not dare toface the consternation of Madge, as she repeated, with a half-smile--"hehas asked--for meat, and a stoup of wine, Madge!"
"Eh, sirs! And where is he to get them? Not that it will be bad for thelad, either. Wine! There's Master Sancroft of the Oak will not trust usa penny, the seely hilding, and--"
"Oh, Madge, I forgot!--we can still sell the gittern for something. Geton your wimple, Madge--quick,--while I go for it."
"Why, Mistress Sibyll, that's your only pleasure when you sit all alone,the long summer days."
"It will be more pleasure to remember that it supplied the wants of myfather's guest," said Sibyll; and retracing the way up the stairs, shereturned with the broken instrument, and despatched Madge with it, ladenwith instructions that the wine should be of the best. She then oncemore mounted the rugged steps, and halting a moment at Marmaduke'sdoor, as she heard his feeble step walking impatiently to and fro, sheascended higher, where the flight, winding up a square, dilapidatedturret, became rougher, narrower, and darker, and opened the door of herfather's retreat.
It was a room so bare of ornament and furniture that it seemed merelywrought out of the mingled rubble and rough stones which composed thewalls of the mansion, and was lighted towards the street by a narrowslit, glazed, it is true,--which all the windows of the house werenot,--but the sun scarcely pierced the dull panes and the deep wallsin which they were sunk. The room contained a strong furnace and a rudelaboratory. There were several strange-looking mechanical contrivancesscattered about, several manuscripts upon some oaken shelves, anda large pannier of wood and charcoal in the corner. In thatpoverty-stricken house, the money spent on fuel alone, in the heightof summer, would have comfortably maintained the inmates; but neitherSibyll nor Madge ever thought to murmur at this waste, dedicated to whathad become the vital want of a man who drew air in a world of his own.This was
the first thing to be provided for; and Science was of moreimperative necessity than even Hunger.
Adam Warner was indeed a creature of remarkable genius,--and genius, inan age where it is not appreciated, is the greatest curse the iron Fatescan inflict on man. If not wholly without the fond fancies which led thewisdom of the darker ages to the philosopher's stone and the elixir, hehad been deterred from the chase of a chimera by want of means to pursueit! for it required the resources or the patronage of a prince or nobleto obtain the costly ingredients consumed in the alchemist's crucible.In early life, therefore, and while yet in possession of a competencederived from a line of distinguished and knightly ancestors, AdamWarner had devoted himself to the surer and less costly study of themathematics, which then had begun to attract the attention of thelearned, but which was still looked upon by the vulgar as a branchof the black art. This pursuit had opened to him the insight intodiscoveries equally useful and sublime. They necessitated a still morevarious knowledge; and in an age when there was no division of labourand rare and precarious communication among students, it becamenecessary for each discoverer to acquire sufficient science for his owncollateral experiments.
In applying mathematics to the practical purposes of life, inrecognizing its mighty utilities to commerce and civilization, AdamWarner was driven to conjoin with it, not only an extensive knowledgeof languages, but many of the rudest tasks of the mechanist's art;and chemistry was, in some of his researches, summoned to his aid.By degrees, the tyranny that a man's genius exercises over his life,abstracted him from all external objects. He had loved his wifetenderly, but his rapid waste of his fortune in the purchase ofinstruments and books, then enormously dear, and the neglect of allthings not centred in the hope to be the benefactor of the world, hadruined her health and broken her heart. Happily Warner perceived not herdecay till just before her death; happily he never conceived its cause,for her soul was wrapped in his. She revered, and loved, and neverupbraided him. Her heart was the martyr to his mind. Had she foreseenthe future destinies of her daughter, it might have been otherwise. Shecould have remonstrated with the father, though not with the husband.But, fortunately, as it seemed to her, she (a Frenchwoman by birth) hadpassed her youth in the service of Margaret of Anjou, and that haughtyqueen, who was equally warm to friends and inexorable to enemies, had,on her attendant's marriage, promised to ensure the fortunes of heroffspring. Sibyll at the age of nine--between seven and eight yearsbefore the date the story enters on, and two years prior to the fatalfield of Towton, which gave to Edward the throne of England--had beenadmitted among the young girls whom the custom of the day ranked amidstthe attendants of the queen; and in the interval that elapsed beforeMargaret was obliged to dismiss her to her home, her mother died. Shedied without foreseeing the reverses that were to ensue, in the hopethat her child, at least, was nobly provided for, and not withoutthe belief (for there is so much faith in love!) that her husband'sresearches, which in his youth had won favour of the Protector Duke ofGloucester, the most enlightened prince of his time, would be crowned atlast with the rewards and favours of his king. That precise period was,indeed, the fairest that had yet dawned upon the philosopher. Henry VI.,slowly recovering from one of those attacks which passed for imbecility,had condescended to amuse himself with various conversations withWarner, urged to it first by representations of the unholy nature ofthe student's pursuits; and, having satisfied his mind of his learnedsubject's orthodoxy, the poor monarch had taken a sort of interest, notso much, perhaps, in the objects of Warner's occupations, as in thatcomplete absorption from actual life which characterized the subject,and gave him in this a melancholy resemblance to the king. While theHouse of Lancaster was on the throne, the wife felt that her husband'spursuits would be respected, and his harmless life safe from the fierceprejudices of the people; and the good queen would not suffer him tostarve, when the last mark was expended in devices how to benefit hiscountry:--and in these hopes the woman died!
A year afterwards, all at court was in disorder,--armed men supplied theservice of young girls, and Sibyll, with a purse of broad pieces, soonconverted into manuscripts, was sent back to her father's desolate home.There had she grown a flower amidst ruins, with no companion of her ownage, and left to bear, as her sweet and affectionate nature well did,the contrast between the luxuries of a court and the penury of a hearthwhich, year after year, hunger and want came more and more sensibly toinvade.
Sibyll had been taught, even as a child, some accomplishments littlevouchsafed then to either sex,--she could read and write; and Margarethad not so wholly lost, in the sterner North, all reminiscence ofthe accomplishments that graced her father's court as to neglect theeducation of those brought up in her household. Much attention was givento music, for it soothed the dark hours of King Henry; the blazoning ofmissals or the lives of saints, with the labours of the loom, were alsoamong the resources of Sibyll's girlhood, and by these last she had,from time to time, served to assist the maintenance of the littlefamily of which, child though she was, she became the actual head. Butlatterly--that is, for the last few weeks--even these sources failedher; for as more peaceful times allowed her neighbours to interestthemselves in the affairs of others, the dark reports against Warner hadrevived. His name became a by-word of horror; the lonely light at thelattice burning till midnight, against all the early usages and habitsof the day; the dark smoke of the furnace, constant in summer as inwinter, scandalized the religion of the place far and near. And finding,to their great dissatisfaction, that the king's government and theChurch interfered not for their protection, and unable themselvesto volunteer any charges against the recluse (for the cows in theneighbourhood remained provokingly healthy), they came suddenly, and,as it were by one of those common sympathies which in all times the hugepersecutor we call the PUBLIC manifests when a victim is to be crushed,to the pious resolution of starving where they could not burn. Why buythe quaint devilries of the wizard's daughter?--no luck could come ofit. A missal blazoned by such hands, an embroidery worked at such aloom, was like the Lord's Prayer read backwards. And one morning, whenpoor Sibyll stole out as usual to vend a month's labour, she was drivenfrom door to door with oaths and curses.
Though Sibyll's heart was gentle, she was not without a certain strengthof mind. She had much of the patient devotion of her mother, much of thequiet fortitude of her father's nature. If not comprehending to the fullthe loftiness of Warner's pursuits, she still anticipated from them anultimate success which reconciled her to all temporary sacrifices. Theviolent prejudices, the ignorant cruelty, thus brought to bear againstexistence itself, filled her with sadness, it is true, but not unmixedwith that contempt for her persecutors, which, even in the meekesttempers, takes the sting from despair. But hunger pressed. Her fatherwas nearing the goal of his discoveries, and in a moment of that pridewhich in its very contempt for appearances braves them all, Sibyllhad stolen out to the pastime-ground,--with what result has been seenalready. Having thus accounted for the penury of the mansion, we returnto its owner.
Warner was contemplating with evident complacency and delight themodel of a machine which had occupied him for many years, and which heimagined he was now rapidly bringing to perfection. His hands andface were grimed with the smoke of his forge, and his hair and beard,neglected as usual, looked parched and dried up, as if with the constantfever that burned within.
"Yes, yes!" he muttered, "how they will bless me for this! What RogerBacon only suggested I shall accomplish! How it will change the face ofthe globe! What wealth it will bestow on ages yet unborn!"
"My father," said the gentle voice of Sibyll, "my poor father, thou hastnot tasted bread to-day."
Warner turned, and his face relaxed into a tender expression as he sawhis daughter.
"My child," he said, pointing to his model, "the time comes when it willlive! Patience! patience!"
"And who would not have patience with thee, and for thee, Father?" saidSibyll, with enthusiasm speaking on every feature. "What is the
valourof knight and soldier--dull statues of steel--to thine? Thou, withthy naked breast, confronting all dangers,--sharper than the lance andglaive, and all--"
"All to make England great!"
"Alas! what hath England merited from men like thee? The people, moresavage than their rulers, clamour for the stake, the gibbet, and thedungeon, for all who strive to make them wiser. Remember the death ofBolingbroke, [A mathematician accused as an accomplice, in sorcery, ofEleanor Cobham, wife of Humphrey, Duke of Gloucester, and hanged uponthat charge. His contemporary (William Wyrcestre) highly extols hislearning.]--a wizard, because, O Father!--because his pursuits werethine!"
Adam, startled by this burst, looked at his daughter with more attentionthan he usually evinced to any living thing. "Child," he said at length,shaking his head in grave reproof, "let me not say to thee, 'O thou oflittle faith!' There were no heroes were there no martyrs!"
"Do not frown on me, Father," said Sibyll, sadly; "let the worldfrown,--not thou! Yes, thou art right. Thou must triumph at last."And suddenly, her whole countenance changing into a soft and caressingendearment, she added, "But now come, Father. Thou hast labouredwell for this morning. We shall have a little feast for thee in a fewminutes. And the stranger is recovered, thanks to our leechcraft. He isimpatient to see and thank thee."
"Well, well, I come, Sibyll," said the student, with a regretful,lingering look at his model, and a sigh to be disturbed from itscontemplation; and he slowly quitted the room with Sibyll.
"But not, dear sir and father, not thus--not quite thus--will you go tothe stranger, well-born like yourself? Oh, no! your Sibyll is proud,you know,--proud of her father." So saying, she clung to him fondly,and drew him mechanically, for he had sunk into a revery, and heeded hernot, into an adjoining chamber, in which he slept. The comforts even ofthe gentry, of men with the acres that Adam had sold, were then fewand scanty. The nobles and the wealthy merchants, indeed, boasted manyluxuries that excelled in gaud and pomp those of their equals now.But the class of the gentry who had very little money at command werecontented with hardships from which a menial of this day would revolt.What they could spend in luxury was usually consumed in dress and thetable they were obliged to keep. These were the essentials of dignity.Of furniture there was a woful stint. In many houses, even of knights,an edifice large enough to occupy a quadrangle was composed more ofoffices than chambers inhabited by the owners; rarely boasting more thanthree beds, which were bequeathed in wills as articles of great value.The reader must, therefore, not be surprised that Warner's abodecontained but one bed, properly so called, and that was now devoted toNevile. The couch which served the philosopher for bed was a wretchedpallet, stretched on the floor, stuffed with straw,--with rough say,or serge, and an old cloak for the coverings. His daughter's, in a roombelow, was little better. The walls were bare; the whole house boastedbut one chair, which was in Marmaduke's chamber; stools or settles ofrude oak elsewhere supplied their place. There was no chimney except inNevile's room, and in that appropriated to the forge.
To this chamber, then, resembling a dungeon in appearance, Sibyll drewthe student, and here, from an old worm-eaten chest, she carefullyextracted a gown of brown velvet, which his father, Sir Armine, hadbequeathed to him by will,--faded, it is true, but still such as thelow-born wore not, [By the sumptuary laws only a knight was entitled towear velvet.] trimmed with fur, and clasped with a brooch of gold. Andthen she held the ewer and basin to him, while, with the docility of achild, he washed the smoke-soil from his hands and face. It wastouching to see in this, as in all else, the reverse of their naturalposition,--the child tending and heeding and protecting, as it were, thefather; and that not from his deficiency, but his greatness; not becausehe was below the vulgar intelligences of life, but above them. Andcertainly, when, his patriarchal hair and beard smoothed into order,and his velvet gown flowing in majestic folds around a figure tall andcommanding, Sibyll followed her father into Marmaduke's chamber, shemight well have been proud of his appearance; and she felt the innocentvanity of her sex and age in noticing the half-start of surprise withwhich Marmaduke regarded his host, and the tone of respect in which heproffered him his salutations and thanks. Even his manner altered toSibyll; it grew less frank and affable, more courtly and reserved: andwhen Madge came to announce that the refection was served, it was with ablush of shame, perhaps, at his treatment of the poor gittern-playeron the pastime-ground, that the Nevile extended his left hand, for hisright was still not at his command, to lead the damsel to the hall.
This room, which was divided from the entrance by a screen, and, excepta small closet that adjoined it, was the only sitting-room in a daywhen, as now on the Continent, no shame was attached to receivingvisitors in sleeping apartments, was long and low; an old and verynarrow table, that might have feasted thirty persons, stretched acrossa dais raised upon a stone floor; there was no rere-dosse, or fireplace,which does not seem at that day to have been an absolute necessity inthe houses of the metropolis and its suburbs, its place being suppliedby a movable brazier. Three oak stools were placed in state at theboard, and to one of these Marmaduke, in a silence unusual to him,conducted the fair Sibyll.
"You will forgive our lack of provisions," said Warner, relapsing intothe courteous fashions of his elder days, which the unwonted spectacleof a cold capon, a pasty, and a flask of wine brought to his mind by atrain of ideas that actively glided by the intervening circumstances,which ought to have filled him with astonishment at the sight, "formy Sibyll is but a young housewife, and I am a simple scholar, of fewwants."
"Verily," answered Marmaduke, finding his tongue as he attacked thepasty, "I see nothing that the most dainty need complain of; fairMistress Sibyll, your dainty lips will not, I trow, refuse me thewaisall. [I.e. waissail or wassal; the spelling of the time is adoptedin the text.] To you also, worshipful sir! Gramercy! it seems that thereis nothing which better stirs a man's appetite than a sick bed. And,speaking thereof, deign to inform me, kind sir, how long I have beenindebted to your hospitality. Of a surety, this pasty hath an excellentflavour, and if not venison, is something better. But to return, itmazes me much to think what time hath passed since my encounter with therobbers."
"They were robbers, then, who so cruelly assailed thee?" observedSibyll.
"Have I not said so--surely, who else? And, as I was remarking to yourworshipful father, whether this mischance happened hours, days, months,or years ago, beshrew me if I can venture the smallest guess."
Master Warner smiled, and observing that some reply was expected fromhim, said, "Why, indeed, young sir, I fear I am almost as oblivious asyourself. It was not yesterday that you arrived, nor the day before,nor--Sibyll, my child, how long is it since this gentleman hath been ourguest?"
"This is the fifth day," answered Sibyll.
"So long! and I like a senseless log by the wayside, when others arepushing on, bit and spur, to the great road. I pray you, sir, tell methe news of the morning. The Lord Warwick is still in London, the courtstill at the Tower?"
Poor Adam, whose heart was with his model, and who had now satisfiedhis temperate wants, looked somewhat bewildered and perplexed by thisquestion. "The king, save his honoured head," said he, inclining hisown, "is, I fear me, always at the Tower, since his unhappy detention,but he minds it not, sir,--he heeds it not; his soul is not on this sideParadise."
Sibyll uttered a faint exclamation of fear at this dangerousindiscretion of her father's absence of mind; and drawing closer toNevile, she put her hand with touching confidence on his arm, andwhispered, "You will not repeat this, Sir! my father lives only in hisstudies, and he has never known but one king!"
Marmaduke turned his bold face to the maid, and pointed to thesalt-cellar, as he answered in the same tone, "Does the brave man betrayhis host?"
There was a moment's silence. Marmaduke rose. "I fear," said he, "thatI must now leave you; and while it is yet broad noon, I must indeed beblind if I again miss my way."
This speech suddenly reca
lled Adam from his meditations; for wheneverhis kindly and simple benevolence was touched, even his mathematics andhis model were forgotten. "No, young sir," said he, "you must notquit us yet; your danger is not over. Exercise may bring fever. Celsusrecommends quiet. You must consent to tarry with us a day or two more."
"Can you tell me," said the Nevile, hesitatingly, "what distance it isto the Temple-gate, or the nearest wharf on the river?"
"Two miles, at the least," answered Sibyll.
"Two miles!--and now I mind me, I have not the accoutrements that beseemme. Those hildings have stolen my mantle (which, I perceive, by the way,is but a rustic garment, now laid aside for the super-tunic), and my hatand dague, nor have they left even a half groat to supply their place.Verily, therefore, since ye permit me to burden your hospitality longer,I will not say ye nay, provided you, worshipful sir, will suffer one ofyour people to step to the house of one Master Heyford, goldsmith, inthe Chepe, and crave one Nicholas Alwyn, his freedman, to visit me. Ican commission him touching my goods left at mine hostelrie, and learnsome other things which it behooves me to know."
"Assuredly. Sibyll, tell Simon or Jonas to put himself under our guest'sorder."
Simon or Jonas! The poor Adam absolutely forgot that Simon and Jonas hadquitted the house these six years! How could he look on the capon, thewine, and the velvet gown trimmed with fur, and not fancy himself backin the heyday of his wealth?
Sibyll half smiled and half sighed, as she withdrew to consult with hersole counsellor, Madge, how the guest's orders were to be obeyed, andhow, alas! the board was to be replenished for the evening meal. But inboth these troubles she was more fortunate than she anticipated.Madge had sold the broken gittern, for musical instruments were then,comparatively speaking, dear (and this had been a queen's gift), forsufficient to provide decently for some days; and, elated herself withthe prospect of so much good cheer, she readily consented to be themessenger to Nicholas Alwyn. When with a light step and a lighter heartSibyll tripped back to the hall, she was scarcely surprised to find theguest alone. Her father, after her departure, had begun to evince muchrestless perturbation. He answered Marmaduke's queries but by abstractedand desultory monosyllables; and seeing his guest at length engaged incontemplating some old pieces of armour hung upon the walls, he stolestealthily and furtively away, and halted not till once more before hisbeloved model.
Unaware of his departure, Marmaduke, whose back was turned to him, was,as he fondly imagined, enlightening his host with much soldier-likelearning as to the old helmets and weapons that graced the hall."Certes, my host," said he, musingly, "that sort of casque, which hasnot, I opine, been worn this century, had its merits; the vizor is lessopen to the arrows. But as for these chain suits, they suited only--Iventure, with due deference, to declare--the Wars of the Crusades, wherethe enemy fought chiefly with dart and scymetar. They would be but asorry defence against the mace and battle-axe; nevertheless, they werelight for man and horse, and in some service, especially against foot,might be revived with advantage. Think you not so?"
He turned, and saw the arch face of Sibyll.
"I crave pardon for my blindness, gentle damsel," said he, in someconfusion, "but your father was here anon."
"His mornings are so devoted to labour," answered Sibyll, "that heentreats you to pardon his discourtesy. Meanwhile if you would wish tobreathe the air, we have a small garden in the rear;" and so saying, sheled the way into the small withdrawing-room, or rather closet, which washer own favourite chamber, and which communicated, by another door, witha broad, neglected grassplot, surrounded by high walls, having a raisedterrace in front, divided by a low stone Gothic palisade from the greensward.
On the palisade sat droopingly, and half asleep, a solitary peacock; butwhen Sibyll and the stranger appeared at the door, he woke up suddenly,descended from his height, and with a vanity not wholly unlike hisyoung mistress's wish to make the best possible display in the eyes ofa guest, spread his plumes broadly in the sun. Sibyll threw him somebread, which she had taken from the table for that purpose; but theproud bird, however hungry, disdained to eat, till he had thoroughlysatisfied himself that his glories had been sufficiently observed.
"Poor proud one," said Sibyll, half to herself, "thy plumage lasts withthee through all changes."
"Like the name of a brave knight," said Marmaduke, who overheard her.
"Thou thinkest of the career of arms."
"Surely,--I am a Nevile!"
"Is there no fame to be won but that of a warrior?"
"Not that I weet of, or heed for, Mistress Sibyll."
"Thinkest thou it were nothing to be a minstrel, who gave delight; ascholar, who dispelled darkness?"
"For the scholar? Certes, I respect holy Mother Church, which they tellme alone produces that kind of wonder with full safety to the soul, andthat only in the higher prelates and dignitaries. For the minstrel, Ilove him, I would fight for him, I would give him at need the last pennyin my gipsire; but it is better to do deeds than to sing them."
Sibyll smiled, and the smile perplexed and half displeased the youngadventurer. But the fire of the young man had its charm.
By degrees, as they walked to and fro the neglected terrace, their talkflowed free and familiar; for Marmaduke, like most young men full ofhimself, was joyous with the happy egotism of a frank and carelessnature. He told his young confidante of a day his birth, his history,his hopes, and fears; and in return he learned, in answer to thequestions he addressed to her, so much, at least, of her past andpresent life, as the reverses of her father, occasioned by costlystudies, her own brief sojourn at the court of Margaret, and thesolitude, if not the struggles, in which her youth was consumed. Itwould have been a sweet and grateful sight to some kindly bystanderto hear these pleasant communications between two young persons sounfriended, and to imagine that hearts thus opened to each other mightunite in one. But Sibyll, though she listened to him with interest, andfound a certain sympathy in his aspirations, was ever and anon secretlycomparing him to one, the charm of whose voice still lingered in herears; and her intellect, cultivated and acute, detected in Marmadukedeficient education, and that limited experience which is the folly andthe happiness of the young.
On the other hand, whatever admiration Nevile might conceive wasstrangely mixed with surprise, and, it might almost be said, with fear.This girl, with her wise converse and her child's face, was a characterso thoroughly new to him. Her language was superior to what he had everheard, the words more choice, the current more flowing: was that to beattributed to her court-training or her learned parentage?
"Your father, fair mistress," said he, rousing himself in one of thepauses of their conversation--"your father, then, is a mighty scholar,and I suppose knows Latin like English?"
"Why, a hedge-priest pretends to know Latin," said Sibyll, smiling; "myfather is one of the six men living who have learned the Greek and theHebrew."
"Gramercy!" cried Marmaduke, crossing himself. "That is awsome indeed!He has taught you his lere in the tongues?"
"Nay, I know but my own and the French; my mother was a native ofFrance."
"The Holy Mother be praised!" said Marmaduke, breathing more freely;"for French I have heard my father and uncle say is a language fit forgentles and knights, specially those who come, like the Neviles, fromNorman stock. This Margaret of Anjou--didst thou love her well, MistressSibyll?"
"Nay," answered Sibyll, "Margaret commanded awe, but she scarcelypermitted love from an inferior: and though gracious and well-governedwhen she so pleased, it was but to those whom she wished to win. Shecared not for the heart, if the hand or the brain could not assist her.But, poor queen, who could blame her for this?--her nature was turnedfrom its milk; and, when, more lately, I have heard how many she trustedmost have turned against her, I rebuked myself that--"
"Thou wert not by her side?" added the Nevile, observing her pause, andwith the generous thought of a gentleman and a soldier.
"Nay, I meant not that so ex
pressly, Master Nevile, but rather that Ihad ever murmured at her haste and shrewdness of mood. By her side, saidyou?--alas! I have a nearer duty at home; my father is all in this worldto me! Thou knowest not, Master Nevile, how it flatters the weak tothink there is some one they can protect. But eno' of myself. Thou wiltgo to the stout earl, thou wilt pass to the court, thou wilt win thegold spurs, and thou wilt fight with the strong hand, and leave othersto cozen with the keen head."
"She is telling my fortune!" muttered Marmaduke, crossing himself again."The gold spurs--I thank thee, Mistress Sibyll!--will it be on thebattle-field that I shall be knighted, and by whose hand?"
Sibyll glanced her bright eye at the questioner, and seeing his wistfulface, laughed outright.
"What, thinkest thou, Master Nevile, I can read thee all riddles withoutmy sieve and my shears?"
"They are essentials, then, Mistress Sibyll?" said the Nevile, withblunt simplicity. "I thought ye more learned damozels might tell by thepalm, or the--why dost thou laugh at me?"
"Nay," answered Sibyll, composing herself. "It is my right to beangered. Sith thou wouldst take me to be a witch, all that I can tellthee of thy future" (she added touchingly) "is from that which I haveseen of thy past. Thou hast a brave heart, and a gentle; thou hast afrank tongue, and a courteous; and these qualities make men honoured andloved,--except they have the gifts which turn all into gall, and bringoppression for honour, and hate for love."
"And those gifts, gentle Sibyll?"
"Are my father's," answered the girl, with another and a sadder changein her expressive countenance. And the conversation flagged tillMarmaduke, feeling more weakened by his loss of blood than he hadconceived it possible, retired to his chamber to repose himself.
The Last of the Barons — Complete Page 8
