CHAPTER VII. A LOVE SCENE.
More than ever chafed against Katherine, Hastings surrendered himselfwithout reserve to the charm he found in the society of Sibyll. Herconfidence being again restored, again her mind showed itself toadvantage, and the more because her pride was further roused to assertthe equality with rank and gold which she took from nature and from God.
It so often happens that the first love of woman is accompanied witha bashful timidity, which overcomes the effort, while it increases thedesire, to shine, that the union of love and timidity has been calledinseparable, in the hackneyed language of every love-tale. But this isno invariable rule, as Shakspeare has shown us in the artless Miranda,in the eloquent Juliet, in the frank and healthful Rosalind;--and thelove of Sibyll was no common girl's spring-fever of sighs and blushes.It lay in the mind, the imagination, the intelligence, as well as in theheart and fancy. It was a breeze that stirred from the modest leavesof the rose all their diviner odour. It was impossible but what thisstrong, fresh young nature--with its free gayety when happy, its earnestpathos when sad, its various faculties of judgment and sentiment, andcovert play of innocent wit--should not contrast forcibly, in the mindof a man who had the want to be amused and interested, with the coldpride of Katherine, the dull atmosphere in which her stiff, unbendingvirtue breathed unintellectual air, and still more with the dressedpuppets, with painted cheeks and barren talk, who filled up the commonworld, under the name of women.
His feelings for Sibyll, therefore, took a more grave and respectfulcolour, and his attentions, if gallant ever, were those of a man wooingone whom he would make his wife, and studying the qualities to whichhe was disposed to intrust his happiness; and so pure was Sibyll'saffection, that she could have been contented to have lived foreverthus,--have seen and heard him daily, have talked but the words offriendship though with the thoughts of love; for some passions refinethemselves through the very fire of the imagination into which thesenses are absorbed, and by the ideal purification elevated up tospirit. Rapt in the exquisite happiness she now enjoyed, Sibyllperceived not, or, if perceiving, scarcely heeded; that the admirers,who had before fluttered round her, gradually dropped off; that theladies of the court, the damsels who shared her light duties, grewdistant and silent at her approach; that strange looks were bent onher; that sometimes when she and Hastings were seen together, the sternfrowned and the godly crossed themselves.
The popular prejudices had reacted on the court. The wizard's daughterwas held to share the gifts of her sire, and the fascination of beautywas imputed to evil spells. Lord Hastings was regarded--especially byall the ladies he had once courted and forsaken--as a man egregiouslybewitched!
One day it chanced that Sibyll encountered Hastings in the walk thatgirded the ramparts of the Tower. He was pacing musingly, with foldedarms, when he raised his eyes and beheld her.
"And whither go you thus alone, fair mistress?"
"The duchess bade me seek the queen, who is taking the air yonder. Mylady has received some tidings she would impart to her highness."
"I was thinking of thee, fair damsel, when thy face brightened on mymusings; and I was comparing thee to others who dwell in the world'shigh places, and marvelling at the whims of fortune."
Sibyll smiled faintly, and answered, "Provoke not too much the aspiringfolly of my nature. Content is better than ambition."
"Thou ownest thy ambition?" asked Hastings, curiously.
"Ah, sir, who hath it not?"
"But for thy sweet sex ambition has so narrow and cribbed a field."
"Not so; for it lives in others. I would say," continued Sibyll,colouring, fearful that she had betrayed herself, "for example, thatso long as my father toils for fame, I breathe in his hope, and amambitious for his honour."
"And so, if thou wert wedded to one worthy of thee, in his ambition thouwouldst soar and dare?"
"Perhaps," answered Sibyll, coyly.
"But if thou wert wedded to sorrow and poverty and troublous care, thineambition, thus struck dead, would of consequence strike dead thy love?"
"Nay, noble lord, nay; canst thou so wrong womanhood in me unworthy? forsurely true ambition lives not only in the goods of fortune. Is thereno nobler ambition than that of the vanity? Is there no ambition of theheart,--an ambition to console, to cheer the griefs of those who loveand trust us; an ambition to build a happiness out of the reach offate; an ambition to soothe some high soul, in its strife with a meanworld,--to lull to sleep its pain, to smile to serenity its cares? Oh,methinks a woman's true ambition would rise the bravest when, in thevery sight of death itself, the voice of him in whom her glory had dweltthrough life should say, 'Thou fearest not to walk to the grave and toheaven by my side!"'
Sweet and thrilling were the tones in which these words were said, loftyand solemn the upward and tearful look with which they closed.
And the answer struck home to the native and original heroism of thelistener's nature, before debased into the cynic sourness of worldlywisdom. Never had Katherine herself more forcibly recalled to Hastingsthe pure and virgin glory of his youth.
"Oh, Sibyll!" he exclaimed passionately, and yielding to the impulse ofthe moment,--"oh, that for me, as to me, such high words were said! Oh,that all the triumphs of a life men call prosperous were excelled by theone triumph of waking such an ambition in such a heart!"
Sibyll stood before him transformed,--pale, trembling, mute,--andHastings, clasping her hand and covering it with kisses, said,--
"Dare I arede thy silence? Sibyll, thou lovest me--O Sibyll, speak!"
With a convulsive effort, the girl's lips moved, then closed, then movedagain, into low and broken words.
"Why this, why this? Thou hadst promised not to--not to--"
"Not to insult thee by unworthy vows! Nor do I. But as my wife." Hepaused abruptly, alarmed at his own impetuous words, and scared by thephantom of the world that rose like a bodily thing before the generousimpulse, and grinned in scorn of his folly.
But Sibyll heard only that one holy word of WIFE, and so sudden and sogreat was the transport it called forth, that her senses grew faintand dizzy, and she would have fallen to the earth but for the arms thatcircled her, and the breast upon which, now, the virgin might veil theblush that did not speak of shame.
With various feelings, both were a moment silent. But oh, that moment!what centuries of bliss were crowded into it for the nobler and fairernature!
At last, gently releasing herself, she put her hands before her eyes, asif to convince herself she was awake, and then, turning her lovely facefull upon the wooer, Sibyll said ingenuously,--
"Oh, my lord--oh, Hastings! if thy calmer reason repent not these words,if thou canst approve in me what thou didst admire in Elizabeth thequeen, if thou canst raise one who has no dower but her heart to thestate of thy wife and partner, by this hand, which I place fearlesslyin thine, I pledge thee to such a love as minstrel hath never sung. No!"she continued, drawing loftily up her light stature,--"no, thou shaltnot find me unworthy of thy name,--mighty though it is, mightier thoughit shall be. I have a mind that can share thine objects, I have pridethat can exult in thy power, courage to partake thy dangers, anddevotion--" she hesitated, with the most charming blush--"but of that,sweet lord, thou shalt judge hereafter! This is my dowry,--it is all!"
"And all I ask or covet," said Hastings. But his cheek had lost itsfirst passionate glow. Lord of many a broad land and barony, victoriouscaptain in many a foughten field, wise statesman in many a thoughtfulstratagem, high in his king's favour, and linked with a nation'shistory,--William de Hastings at that hour was as far below as earth isto heaven the poor maiden whom he already repented to have so honoured,and whose sublime answer woke no echo from his heart.
Fortunately, as he deemed it, at that very instant he heard many stepsrapidly approaching, and his own name called aloud by the voice of theking's body-squire.
"Hark! Edward summons me," he said, with a feeling of reprieve."Farewell, dear Sibyll, farewel
l for a brief while,--we shall meetanon."
At this time they were standing in that part of the rampart walk whichis now backed by the barracks of a modern soldiery, and before which,on the other side of the moat, lay a space that had seemed solitary anddeserted; but as Hastings, in speaking his adieu, hurriedly pressedhis lips on Sibyll's forehead, from a tavern without the fortress, andopposite the spot on which they stood, suddenly sallied a disorderlytroop of half-drunken soldiers, with a gang of the wretched women thatalways continue the classic associations of a false Venus with a brutalMars; and the last words of Hastings were scarcely spoken, before a loudlaugh startled both himself and Sibyll, and a shudder came over her whenshe beheld the tinsel robes of the tymbesteres glittering in the sun,and heard their leader sing, as she darted from the arms of a reelingsoldier,--
"Ha! death to the dove Is the falcon's love. Oh, sharp is the kiss of the falcon's beak!"
BOOK VII. THE POPULAR REBELLION.
The Last of the Barons — Complete Page 45
