GRISLY GRISELL, or THE LAIDLY LADY OF WHITBURN: A TALE OF THE WARSOF THE ROSES

CHAPTER I--AN EXPLOSION

It was a great pity, so it was, this villanous saltpetre should bedigg'd out of the bowels of the harmless earth. 

SHAKESPEARE King Henry IV. , Part I. 

A terrible shriek rang through the great Manor-house of Amesbury. Itwas preceded by a loud explosion, and there was agony as well asterror in the cry. Then followed more shrieks and screams, some ofpain, some of fright, others of anger and recrimination. Every onein the house ran together to the spot whence the cries proceeded, namely, the lower court, where the armourer and blacksmith had theirworkshops. 

There was a group of children, the young people who were confided tothe great Earl Richard and Countess Alice of Salisbury for educationand training. Boys and girls were alike there, some of the lattercrying and sobbing, others mingling with the lads in the hot disputeas to "who did it. "

By the time the gentle but stately Countess had reached the place, all the grown-up persons of the establishment--knights, squires, grooms, scullions, and females of every degree--had thronged roundthem, but parted at her approach, though one of the knights said, "Nay, Lady Countess, 'tis no sight for you. The poor little maid isdead, or nigh upon it. "

"But who is it? What is it?" asked the Countess, still advancing. 

A confused medley of voices replied, "The Lord of Whitburn's littlewench--Leonard Copeland--gunpowder. "

"And no marvel, " said a sturdy, begrimed figure, "if the malapertyoung gentles be let to run all over the courts, and handle that withwhich they have no concern, lads and wenches alike. "

"Nay, how can I stop it when my lady will not have the maidens keptever at their distaffs and needles in seemly fashion, " cried a smallbut stout and self-assertive dame, known as "Mother of the Maidens, "then starting, "Oh! my lady, I crave your pardon, I knew not you werein this coil! And if the men-at-arms be let to have their perilousgoods strewn all over the place, no wonder at any mishap. "

"Do not wrangle about the cause, " said the Countess. "Who is hurt?How much?"

The crowd parted enough for her to make way to where a girl of aboutten was lying prostrate and bleeding with her head on a woman's lap. 

"Poor maid, " was the cry, "poor maid! 'Tis all over with her. Itwill go ill with young Leonard Copeland. "

"Worse with Hodge Smith for letting him touch his irons. "

"Nay, what call had Dick Jenner to lay his foul, burning gunpowder--adevice of Satan--in this yard? A mercy we are not all blown to thewinds. "

The Countess, again ordering peace, reached the girl, whose moansshowed that she was still alive, and between the barber-surgeon andthe porter's wife she was lifted up, and carried to a bed, theCountess Alice keeping close to her, though the "Mother of theMaidens, " who was a somewhat helpless personage, hung back, declaringthat the sight of the wounds made her swoon. There were terriblewounds upon the face and neck, which seemed to be almost bared ofskin. The lady, who had been bred to some knowledge of surgicalskill, together with the barber-surgeon, did their best to allay theagony with applications of sweet oil. Perhaps if they had had moreof what was then considered skill, it might have been worse for her. 

The Countess remained anxiously trying all that could allay thesuffering of the poor little semi-conscious patient, who kept moaningfor "nurse. " She was Grisell Dacre, the daughter of the Baron ofWhitburn, and had been placed, young as she was, in the household ofthe Countess of Salisbury on her mother being made one of the ladiesattending on the young Queen Margaret of Anjou, lately married toKing Henry VI. 

Attendance on the patient had prevented the Countess from hearing thehistory of the accident, but presently the clatter of horses' feetshowed that her lord was returning, and, committing the girl to herold nurse, she went down to the hall to receive him. 

The grave, grizzled warrior had taken his seat on his cross-legged, round-backed chair, and a boy of some twelve years old stood beforehim, in a sullen attitude, one foot over the other, and his shoulderheld fast by a squire, while the motley crowd of retainers stoodbehind. 

There was a move at the entrance of the lady, and her husband rose, came forward, and as he gave her the courteous kiss of greeting, demanded, "What is all this coil? Is the little wench dead?"

"Nay, but I fear me she cannot live, " was the answer. 

"Will Dacre of Whitburn's maid? That's ill, poor child! How fell itout?"

"That I know as little as you, " was the answer. "I have been seeingto the poor little maid's hurts. "

Lord Salisbury placed her in the chair like his own. In point offact, she was Countess in her own right; he, Richard Nevil, had beencreated Earl of Salisbury in her right on the death of her father, the staunch warrior of Henry V. In the siege of Orleans. 

"Speak out, Leonard Copeland, " said the Earl. "What hast thou done?"

The boy only growled, "I never meant to hurt the maid. "

"Speak to the point, sir, " said Lord Salisbury sternly; "giveyourself at least the grace of truth. "

Leonard grew more silent under the show of displeasure, and only hunghis head at the repeated calls to him to speak. The Earl turned tothose who were only too eager to accuse him. 

"He took a bar of iron from the forge, so please you, my lord, andput it to the barrel of powder. "

"Is this true, Leonard?" demanded the Earl again, amazed at thefrantic proceeding, and Leonard muttered "Aye, " vouchsafing no more, and looking black as thunder at a fair, handsome boy who pressed tohis side and said, "Uncle, " doffing his cap, "so please you, my lord, the barrels had just been brought in upon Hob Carter's wain, andLeonard said they ought to have the Lord Earl's arms on them. So hetook a bar of hot iron from the forge to mark the saltire on them, and thereupon there was this burst of smoke and flame, and the maid, who was leaning over, prying into his doings, had the brunt thereof. "

"Thanks to the saints that no further harm was done, " ejaculated thelady shuddering, while her lord proceeded--"It was not malice, butmalapert meddling, then. Master Leonard Copeland, thou must bescourged to make thee keep thine hands off where they be not needed. For the rest, thou must await what my Lord of Whitburn may require. Take him away, John Ellerby, chastise him, and keep him in ward tillwe see the issue. "

Leonard, with his head on high, marched out of the hall, not utteringa word, but shaking his shoulder as if to get rid of the squire'sgrasp, but only thereby causing himself to be gripped the faster. 

Next, Lord Salisbury's severity fell upon Hob the carter and Hodgethe smith, for leaving such perilous wares unwatched in the court-yard. Servants were not dismissed for carelessness in those days, but soundly flogged, a punishment considered suitable to the"blackguard" at any age, even under the mildest rule. The gunner, being somewhat higher in position, and not in charge at the moment, was not called to account, but the next question was, how the "Motherof the Maids"--the gouvernante in charge of the numerous damsels whoformed the train of the Lady of Salisbury, and were under educationand training--could have permitted her maidens to stray into theregions appropriated to the yeomen and archers, and others of themeine, where they certainly had no business. 

It appeared that the good and portly lady had last seen the girls inthe gardens "a playing at the ball" with some of the pages, and thatthere, on a sunny garden seat, slumber had prevented her fromdiscovering the absence of the younger part of the bevy. The demureelder damsels deposed that, at the sound of wains coming into thecourt, the boys had rushed off, and the younger girls had followedthem, whether with or without warning was not made clear. Poorlittle Grisell's condition might have been considered a sufficientwarning, nevertheless the two companions in her misdemeanour werecondemned to a whipping, to enforce on them a lesson of maidenliness;and though the Mother of the Maids could not partake of theflagellation, she remained under her lord's and lady's gravedispleasure, and probably would have to submit to a severe penancefrom the priest for her carelessness. Yet, as she observed, MistressGrisell was a North Country maid, never couthly or conformable, butlike a boy, who would moreover always be after Leonard Copeland, whether he would or no. 

It was the more unfortunate, as Lord Salisbury lamented to his wife, because the Copelands were devoted to the Somerset faction; and theKing had been labouring to reconcile them to the Dacres, and to bringabout a contract of marriage between these two unfortunate children, but he feared that whatever he could do, there would only beadditional feud and bitterness, though it was clear that the mishapwas accidental. The Lord of Whitburn himself was in Ireland with theDuke of York, while his lady was in attendance on the young Queen, and it was judged right and seemly to despatch to her a courier withthe tidings of her daughter's disaster, although in point of fact, where a house could number sons, damsels were not thought of greatvalue, except as the means of being allied with other houses. Amessage was also sent to Sir William Copeland that his son had beenthe death of the daughter of Whitburn; for poor little Grisell laymoaning in a state of much fever and great suffering, so that theLady Salisbury could not look at her, nor hear her sighs and sobswithout tears, and the barber-surgeon, unaccustomed to the effects ofgunpowder, had little or no hope of her life. 

Leonard Copeland's mood was sullen, not to say surly. He submittedto the chastisement without a word or cry, for blows were the lot ofboys of all ranks, and were dealt out without much respect tojustice; and he also had to endure a sort of captivity, in a dismallittle circular room in a turret of the manorial house, with merely anarrow loophole to look out from, and this was only accessible byclimbing up a steep broken slope of brick-work in the thickness ofthe wall. 

Here, however, he was visited by his chief friend and comrade, EdmundPlantagenet of York, who found him lying on the floor, building upfragments of stone and mortar into the plan of a castle. 

"How dost thou, Leonard?" he asked. "Did old Hal strike very hard?"

"I reck not, " growled Leonard. 

"How long will my uncle keep thee here?" asked Edmund sympathisingly. 

"Till my father comes, unless the foolish wench should go and die. She brought it on me, the peevish girl. She is always after me whenI want her least. "

"Yea, is not she contracted to thee?"

"So they say; but at least this puts a stop to my being plagued withher--do what they may to me. There's an end to it, if I hang forit. "

"They would never hang thee. "

"None knows what you traitor folk of Nevil would do to a loyalhouse, " growled Leonard. 

"Traitor, saidst thou, " cried Edmund, clenching his fists. "'Tis thybase Somerset crew that be the traitors. "

"I'll brook no such word from thee, " burst forth Leonard, flying athim. 

"Ha! ha!" laughed Edmund even as they grappled. "Who is the traitorforsooth? Why, 'tis my father who should be King. 'Tis white-facedHarry and his Beauforts--"

The words were cut short by a blow from Leonard, and the warderpresently found the two boys rolling on the floor together in hotcontest. 

And meanwhile poor Grisell was trying to frame with her torn andflayed cheeks and lips, "O lady, lady, visit it not on him! Let notLeonard be punished. It was my fault for getting into his way when Ishould have been in the garden. Dear Madge, canst thou speak forhim?"

Madge was Edmund's sister, Margaret of York, who stood trembling andcrying by Grisell's bed. 

CHAPTER II--THE BROKEN MATCH

The Earl of Salisbury, called Prudence. 

Contemporary Poem. 

Little Grisell Dacre did not die, though day after day she lay in asuffering condition, tenderly watched over by the Countess Alice. Her mother had been summoned from attendance on the Queen, but atfirst there only was returned a message that if the maid was dead sheshould be embalmed and sent north to be buried in the family vault, when her father would be at all charges. Moreover, that the boyshould be called to account for his crime, his father being, as theLady of Whitburn caused to be written, an evil-minded minion andfosterer of the house of Somerset, the very bane of the King and theenemies of the noble Duke of York and Earl of Warwick. 

The story will be clearer if it is understood that the Earl ofSalisbury was Richard Nevil, one of the large family of Nevil of RabyCastle in Westmoreland, and had obtained his title by marriage withAlice Montagu, heiress of that earldom. His youngest sister hadmarried Richard Plantagenet, Duke of York, who being descended fromLionel, Duke of Clarence, was considered to have a better right tothe throne than the house of Lancaster, though this had never beenput forward since the earlier years of Henry V. 

Salisbury had several sons. The eldest had married Anne Beauchamp, and was in her right Earl of Warwick, and had estates larger eventhan those of his father. He had not, however, as yet come forward, and the disputes at Court were running high between the friends ofthe Duke of Somerset and those of the Duke of York. 

The King and Queen both were known to prefer the house of Somerset, who were the more nearly related to Henry, and the more inclined touphold royalty, while York was considered as the champion of thepeople. The gentle King and the Beauforts wished for peace withFrance; the nation, and with them York, thought this was giving uphonour, land, and plunder, and suspected the Queen, as a Frenchwoman, of truckling to the enemy. Jack Cade's rising and the murder of theDuke of Suffolk had been the outcome of this feeling. Indeed, LordSalisbury's messenger reported the Country about London to be in sodisturbed a state that it was no wonder that the Lady of Whitburn didnot make the journey. She was not, as the Countess suspected, a verytender mother. Grisell's moans were far more frequently for hernurse than for her, but after some space they ceased. The childbecame capable of opening first one eye, then the other, and bothbarber and lady perceived that she was really unscathed in any vitalpart, and was on the way to recovery, though apparently withhopelessly injured features. 

Leonard Copeland had already been released from restraint, andallowed to resume his usual place among the Earl's pages; when thewarder announced that he saw two parties approaching from oppositesides of the down, one as if from Salisbury, the other from thenorth; and presently he reported that the former wore the familybadge, a white rosette, the latter none at all, whence it wasperceived that the latter were adherents of the Beauforts ofSomerset, for though the "Rose of Snow" had been already adopted byYork, Somerset had in point of fact not plucked the Red Rose in theTemple gardens, nor was it as yet the badge of Lancaster. 

Presently it was further reported that the Lady of Whitburn was inthe fore front of the party, and the Lord of Salisbury hastened toreceive her at the gates, his suite being rapidly put into someorder. 

She was a tall, rugged-faced North Country dame, not very smooth ofspeech, and she returned his salute with somewhat rough courtesy, demanding as she sprang off her horse with little aid, "Lives mywench still?"

"Yes, madam, she lives, and the leech trusts that she will yet behealed. "

"Ah! Methought you would have sent to me if aught further hadbefallen her. Be that as it may, no doubt you have given themalapert boy his deserts. "

"I hope I have, madam, " began the Earl. "I kept him in close wardwhile she was in peril of death, but--" A fresh bugle blastinterrupted him, as there clattered through the resounding gate theother troop, at sight of whom the Lady of Whitburn drew herself up, redoubling her grim dignity, and turning it into indignation as ayoung page rushed forward to meet the newcomers, with a cry of"Father! Lord Father, come at last;" then composing himself, doffedhis cap and held the stirrup, then bent a knee for his father'sblessing. 

"You told me, Lord Earl, the mischievous, murderous fellow was insafe hold, " said the lady, bending her dark brows. 

"While the maid was in peril, " hastily answered Salisbury. "Pardonme, madam, my Countess will attend you. "

The Countess's high rank and great power were impressive to theBaroness of Whitburn, who bent in salutation, but almost her firstwords were, "Madam, you at least will not let the murderous traitorsof Somerset and the Queen prevail over the loyal friends of York andthe nation. "

"There is happily no murder in the case. Praise be to the saints, "said Countess Alice, "your little maid--"

"Aye, that's what they said as to the poor good Duke Humfrey, "returned the irate lady; "but that you, madam, the good-sister of thenoble York, should stand up for the enemies of him, and the friendsof France, is more than a plain North Country woman like me canunderstand. And there--there, turning round upon the steep steps, there is my Lord Earl hand and glove with that minion fellow ofSomerset, who was no doubt at the bottom of the plot! None wouldbelieve it at Raby. "

"None at Raby would believe that my lord could be lacking in courtesyto a guest, " returned Lady Salisbury with dignity, "nor that a NorthCountry dame could expect it of him. Those who are under his roofmust respect it by fitting demeanour towards one another. "

The Lady of Whitburn was quenched for the time, and the Countessasked whether she did not wish to see her daughter, leading the wayto a chamber hung with tapestry, and with a great curtained bednearly filling it up, for the patient had been installed in one ofthe best guest-chambers of the Castle. Lady Whitburn was surprised, but was too proud to show herself gratified by what she thought wasthe due of the dignity of the Dacres. An old woman in a hood sat bythe bed, where there was a heap of clothes, and a dark-haired littlegirl stood by the window, whence she had been describing the arrivalsin the Castle court. 

"Here is your mother, my poor child, " began the Lady of Salisbury, but there was no token of joy. Grisell gave a little gasp, and triedto say "Lady Mother, pardon--" but the Lady of Whitburn, at sight ofthe reddened half of the face which alone was as yet visible, gave acry, "She will be a fright! You evil little baggage, thus to getyourself scarred and made hideous! Running where you ought not, Iwarrant!" and she put out her hand as if to shake the patient, butthe Countess interposed, and her niece Margaret gave a little cry. "Grisell is still very weak and feeble! She cannot bear much; wehave only just by Heaven's grace brought her round. "

"As well she were dead as like this, " cried this untender parent. "Who is to find her a husband now? and as to a nunnery, where is oneto take her without a dower such as is hard to find, with two sons tobe fitly provided? I looked that in a household like this, betterrule should be kept. "

"None can mourn it more than myself and the Earl, " said the gentleCountess; "but young folks can scarce be watched hour by hour. "

"The rod is all that is good for them, and I trusted to you to giveit them, madam, " said Lady Whitburn. "Now, the least that can bedone is to force yonder malapert lad and his father into keeping hiscontract to her, since he has spoilt the market for any other. "

"Is he contracted to her?" asked the Countess. 

"Not fully; but as you know yourself, lady, your lord, and the King, and all the rest, thought to heal the breach between the houses byplanning a contract between their son and my daughter. He shall keepit now, at his peril. "

Grisell was cowering among her pillows, and no one knew how much sheheard or understood. The Countess was glad to get Lady Whitburn outof the room, but both she and her Earl had a very trying evening, intrying to keep the peace between the two parents. Sir WilliamCopeland was devoted to the Somerset family, of whom he held hismanor; and had had a furious quarrel with the Baron of Whitburn, whenboth were serving in France. 

The gentle King had tried to bring about a reconciliation, and hadinduced the two fathers to consent to a contract for the futuremarriage of Leonard, Copeland's second son, to Grisell Dacre, thenthe only child of the Lord of Whitburn. He had also obtained thatthe two children should be bred up in the household of the Earl ofSalisbury, by way of letting them grow up together. On the sameprinciple the Lady of Whitburn had been made one of the attendants ofQueen Margaret--but neither arrangement had been more successful thanmost of those of poor King Henry. 

Grisell indeed considered Leonard as a sort of property of hers, butshe beset him in the manner that boys are apt to resent from youngergirls, and when he was thirteen, and she ten years old, there wasvery little affection on his side. Moreover, the birth of twobrothers had rendered Grisell's hand a far less desirable prize inthe eyes of the Copelands. 

To attend on the Court was penance to the North Country dame, used toa hardy rough life in her sea-side tower, with absolute rule, and nohand over her save her husband's; while the young and outspokenQueen, bred up in the graceful, poetical Court of Aix or Nancy, looked on her as no better than a barbarian, and if she did not showthis openly, reporters were not wanting to tell her that the Queencalled her the great northern hag, or that her rugged unwillingcurtsey was said to look as if she were stooping to draw water at awell. Her husband had kept her in some restraint, but when be hadgone to Ireland with the Duke of York, offences seemed to multiplyupon her. The last had been that when she had tripped on her train, dropped the salver wherewith she was serving the Queen, and brokenout with a loud "Lawk a daisy!" all the ladies, and Margaret herself, had gone into fits of uncontrollable laughter, and the Queen hadbegged her to render her exclamation into good French for herbenefit. 

"Madam, " she had exclaimed, "if a plain woman's plain English be notgood enough for you, she can have no call here!" And without furtherceremony she had flown out of the royal presence. 

Margaret of Anjou, naturally offended, and never politic, had senther a message, that her attendance was no longer required. So hereshe was going out of her way to make a casual inquiry, from the Courtat Winchester, whether that very unimportant article, her onlydaughter, were dead or alive. 

The Earl absolutely prohibited all conversation on affairs in debateduring the supper which was spread in the hall, with quite as muchstate as, and even greater profusion and splendour, than was to befound at Windsor, Winchester, or Westminster. All the high born saton the dais, raised on two steps with gorgeous tapestry behind, and acanopy overhead; the Earl and Countess on chairs in the centre of thelong narrow table. Lady Whitburn sat beside the Earl, Sir WilliamCopeland by the Countess, watching with pleasure how deftly his sonran about among the pages, carrying the trenchers of food, and thecups. He entered on a conversation with the Countess, telling her ofthe King's interest and delight in his beautiful freshly-foundedColleges at Eton and Cambridge, how the King rode down whenever hecould to see the boys, listen to them at their tasks in thecloisters, watch them at their sports in the playing fields, and joinin their devotions in the Chapel--a most holy example for them. 

"Ay, for such as seek to be monks and shavelings, " broke in the NorthCountry voice sarcastically. 

"There are others--sons of gentlemen and esquires--lodged in housesaround, " said Sir William, "who are not meant for cowl or for mass-priests. "

"Yea, forsooth, " called Lady Whitburn across the Earl and theCountess, "what for but to make them as feckless as the priests, unfit to handle lance or sword!"

"So, lady, you think that the same hand cannot wield pen and lance, "said the Earl. 

"I should like to see one of your clerks on a Border foray, " laughedthe Dame of Dacre. "'Tis all a device of the Frenchwoman!"

"Verily?" said the Earl, in an interrogative tone. 

"Ay, to take away the strength and might of Englishmen with thisclerkly lore, so that her folk may have the better of them in France;and the poor, witless King gives in to her. And so while theBeauforts rule the roast--"

Salisbury caught her up. "Ay, the roast. Will you partake of theseroast partridges, madam?"

They were brought round skewered on a long spit, held by a page forthe guest to help herself. Whether by her awkwardness or that of theboy, it so chanced that the bird made a sudden leap from theimpalement, and deposited itself in the lap of Lady Whitburn'sscarlet kirtle! The fact was proclaimed by her loud rude cry, "Amurrain on thee, thou ne'er-do-weel lad, " together with a soundingbox on the ear. 

"'Tis thine own greed, who dost not--"

"Leonard, be still--know thy manners, " cried both at once the Earland Sir William, for, unfortunately, the offender was no other thanLeonard Copeland, and, contrary to all the laws of pagedom, he wastoo angry not to argue the point. "'Twas no doing of mine! She knewnot how to cut the bird. "

Answering again was a far greater fault than the first, and hisfather only treated it as his just desert when he was ordered offunder the squire in charge to be soundly scourged, all the moresharply for his continuing to mutter, "It was her fault. "

And sore and furrowed as was his back, he continued to exclaim, whenhis friend Edmund of York came to condole with him as usual in allhis scrapes, "'Tis she that should have been scourged for clumsiness!A foul, uncouth Border dame! Well, one blessing at least is that nowI shall never be wedded to her daughter--let the wench live or die asshe lists!"

That was not by any means the opinion of the Lady of Whitburn, and nosooner was the meal ended than, in the midst of the hall, the debatebegan, the Lady declaring that in all honour Sir William Copeland wasbound to affiance his son instantly to her poor daughter, all themore since the injuries he had inflicted to her face could never bedone away with. On the other hand, Sir William Copeland wasnaturally far less likely to accept such a daughter-in-law, since herchances of being an heiress had ceased, and he contended that he hadnever absolutely accepted the contract, and that there had been nobetrothal of the children. 

The Earl of Salisbury could not but think that a strictly honourableman would have felt poor Grisell's disaster inflicted by his son'shands all the more reason for holding to the former understanding;but the loud clamours and rude language of Lady Whitburn were enoughto set any one in opposition to her, and moreover, the words he saidin favour of her side of the question appeared to Copeland merelyspoken out of the general enmity of the Nevils to the Beauforts andall their following. 

Thus, all the evening Lady Whitburn raged, and appealed to the Earl, whose support she thought cool and unfriendly, while Copeland stoodsullen and silent, but determined. 

"My lord, " she said, "were you a true friend to York and Raby, youwould deal with this scowling fellow as we should on the Border. "

"We are not on the Border, madam, " quietly said Salisbury. 

"But you are in your own Castle, and can force him to keep faith. Nocontract, forsooth! I hate your mincing South Country forms of law. "Then perhaps irritated by a little ironical smile which Salisburycould not suppress. "Is this your castle, or is it not? Then bringhim and his lad to my poor wench's side, and see their trothplighted, or lay him by the heels in the lowest cell in your dungeon. Then will you do good service to the King and the Duke of York, whomyou talk of loving in your shilly-shally fashion. "

"Madam, " said the Earl, his grave tones coming in contrast to theshrill notes of the angry woman, "I counsel you, in the south atleast, to have some respect to these same forms of law. I bid you afair good-night. The chamberlain will marshal you. "

CHAPTER III--THE MIRROR

"Of all the maids, the foulest maid From Teviot unto Dee. Ah!" sighing said that lady then, "Can ne'er young Harden's be. "

SCOTT, The Reiver's Wedding. 

"They are gone, " said Margaret of York, standing half dressed at thedeep-set window of the chamber where Grisell lay in state in her bigbed. 

"Who are gone?" asked Grisell, turning as well as she could under thegreat heraldically-embroidered covering. 

"Leonard Copeland and his father. Did'st not hear the horses' trampin the court?"

"I thought it was only my lord's horses going to the water. "

"It was the Copelands going off without breaking their fast or takinga stirrup cup, like discourteous rogues as they be, " said Margaret, in no measured language. 

"And are they gone? And wherefore?" asked Grisell. 

"Wherefore? but for fear my noble uncle of Salisbury should hold themto their contract. Sir William sat as surly as a bear just about tobe baited, while thy mother rated and raved at him like a verysleuth-hound on the chase. And Leonard--what think'st thou he saith?"That he would as soon wed the loathly lady as thee, " the cruelSomerset villain as he is; and yet my brother Edmund is fain to lovehim. So off they are gone, like recreant curs as they are, lest myuncle should make them hear reason. "

"But Lady Madge, dear Lady Madge, am I so very loathly?" asked poorGrisell. 

"Mine aunt of Salisbury bade that none should tell thee, " respondedMargaret, in some confusion. 

"Ah me! I must know sooner or later! My mother, she shrieked atsight of me!"

"I would not have your mother, " said the outspoken daughter of "proudCis. " "My Lady Duchess mother is stern enough if we do not bridleour heads, and if we make ourselves too friendly with the meine, butshe never frets nor rates us, and does not heed so long as we do notdemean ourselves unlike our royal blood. She is no termagant likeyours. "

It was not polite, but Grisell had not seen enough of her mother tobe very sensitive on her account. In fact, she was chiefly occupiedwith what she had heard about her own appearance--a matter which hadnot occurred to her before in all her suffering. She returned againto entreat Margaret to tell her whether she was so foully ill-favoured that no one could look at her, and the damsel of York, adhering to the letter rather young than the spirit of the cautionswhich she had received, pursed up her lips and reiterated that shehad been commanded not to mention the subject. 

"Then, " entreated Grisell, "do--do, dear Madge--only bring me thelittle hand mirror out of my Lady Countess's chamber. "

"I know not that I can or may. "

"Only for the space of one Ave, " reiterated Grisell. 

"My lady aunt would never--"

"There--hark--there's the bell for mass. Thou canst run into herchamber when she and the tirewomen are gone down. "

"But I must be there. "

"Thou canst catch them up after. They will only think thee a slug-a-bed. Madge, dear Madge, prithee, I cannot rest without. Weepingwill be worse for me. "

She was crying, and caressing Margaret so vehemently that she gainedher point. Indeed the other girl was afraid of her sobs being heard, and inquired into, and therefore promised to make the attempt, keeping a watch out of sight till she had seen the Lady of Salisburyin her padded head-gear of gold net, and long purple train, sweepdown the stair, followed by her tirewomen and maidens of everydegree. Then darting into the chamber, she bore away from a stagewhere lay the articles of the toilette, a little silver-backed andhandled Venetian mirror, with beautiful tracery in silvered glassdiminishing the very small oval left for personal reflection andinspection. That, however, was quite enough and too much for poorGrisell when Lady Margaret had thrown it to her on her bed, andrushed down the stair so as to come in the rear of the household justin time. 

A glance at the mirror disclosed, not the fair rosy face, set inlight yellow curls, that Grisell had now and then peeped at in abucket of water or a polished breast-plate, but a piteous sight. Onehalf, as she expected, was hidden by bandages, but the other wasfiery red, except that from the corner of the eye to the ear therewas a purple scar; the upper lip was distorted, the hair, eyebrows, and lashes were all gone! The poor child was found in an agony ofsobbing when, after the service, the old woman who acted as her nursecame stumping up in her wooden clogs to set the chamber and bed inorder for Lady Whitburn's visit. 

The dame was in hot haste to get home. Rumours were rife as toScottish invasions, and her tower was not too far south not to needto be on its guard. Her plan was to pack Grisell on a small litterslung to a sumpter mule, and she snorted a kind of defiant contemptwhen the Countess, backed by the household barber-surgeon, declaredthe proceeding barbarous and impossible. Indeed she had probablyforgotten that Grisell was far too tall to be made up into the bundleshe intended; but she then declared that the wench might ride pillionbehind old Diccon, and she would not be convinced till she was takenup to the sick chamber. There the first sound that greeted them wasa choking agony of sobs and moans, while the tirewoman stood over thebed, exclaiming, "Aye, no wonder; it serves thee right, thou evilwench, filching my Lady Countess's mirror from her very chamber, whenit might have been broken for all thanks to thee. The Venice glassthat the merchant gave her! Thou art not so fair a sight, I trow, asto be in haste to see thyself. At the bottom of all the scathe inthe Castle! We shall be well rid of thee. "

So loud was the objurgation of the tirewoman that she did not hearthe approach of her mistress, nor indeed the first words of theCountess, "Hush, Maudlin, the poor child is not to be thus rated!Silence!"

"See, my lady, what she has done to your ladyship's Venice glass, which she never should have touched. She must have run to yourchamber while you were at mass. All false her feigning to be so sickand feeble. "

"Ay, " replied Lady Whitburn, "she must up--don her clothes, and awaywith me. "

"Hush, I pray you, madam. How, how, Grisell, my poor child. CallMaster Miles, Maudlin! Give me that water. " The Countess wasraising the poor child in her arms, and against her bosom, for theshock of that glance in the mirror, followed by the maid's harshreproaches, and fright at the arrival of the two ladies, had broughton a choking, hysterical sort of convulsive fit, and the poor girlwrithed and gasped on Lady Salisbury's breast, while her motherexclaimed, "Heed her not, Lady; it is all put on to hinder me fromtaking her home. If she could go stealing to your room--"

"No, no, " broke out a weeping, frightened voice. "It was I, LadyAunt. You bade me never tell her how her poor face looked, and whenshe begged and prayed me, I did not say, but I fetched the mirror. Oh! oh! It has not been the death of her. "

"Nay, nay, by God's blessing! Take away the glass, Margaret. Go andtell thy beads, child; thou hast done much scathe unwittingly! Ah, Master Miles, come to the poor maid's aid. Canst do aught for her?"

"These humours must be drawn off, my lady, " said the barber-surgeon, who advanced to the bed, and felt the pulse of the poor littlepatient. "I must let her blood. "

Maudlin, whose charge she was, came to his help, and Countess Alicestill held her up, while, after the practice of those days, he bledthe already almost unconscious child, till she fainted and was laiddown again on her pillows, under the keeping of Maudlin, while theclanging of the great bell called the family down to the meal whichbroke fast, whether to be called breakfast or dinner. 

It was plain that Grisell was in no state to be taken on a journey, and her mother went grumbling down the stair at the unchancy bairnalways doing scathe. 

Lord Salisbury, beside whom she sat, courteously, though perhapshardly willingly, invited her to remain till her daughter was readyto move. 

"Nay, my Lord, I am beholden to you, but I may scarce do that. I besorely needed at Whitburn Tower. The knaves go all agee when both mylord and myself have our backs turned, and my lad bairns--worth adozen of yon whining maid--should no longer be left to old CuthbertRidley and Nurse. Now the Queen and Somerset have their way 'tis allmisrule, and who knows what the Scots may do?"

"There are Nevils and Dacres enough between Whitburn and the Border, "observed the Earl gravely. However, the visitor was not such anagreeable one as to make him anxious to press her stay beyond whathospitality demanded, and his wife could not bear to think of givingover her poor little patient to such usage as she would have met withon the journey. 

Lady Whitburn was overheard saying that those who had mauled the maidmight mend her, if they could; and accordingly she acquiesced, nottoo graciously, when the Countess promised to tend the child like herown, and send her by and by to Whitburn under a safe escort; and asMiddleham Castle lay on the way to Whitburn, it was likely that meanswould be found of bringing or sending her. 

This settled, Lady Whitburn was restless to depart, so as to reach ahostel before night. 

She donned her camlet cloak and hood, and looked once more in uponGrisell, who after her loss of blood, had, on reviving, been made toswallow a draught of which an infusion of poppy heads formed a greatpart, so that she lay, breathing heavily, in a deep sleep, moaningnow and then. Her mother did not scruple to try to rouse her withcalls of "Grizzy! Look up, wench!" but could elicit nothing but ahalf turn on the pillow, and a little louder moan, and Master Miles, who was still watching, absolutely refused to let his patient betouched or shaken. 

"Well a day!" said Lady Whitburn, softened for a moment, "what theSaints will must be, I trow; but it is hard, and I shall let St. Cuthbert of Durham know it, that after all the candles I have givenhim, he should have let my poor maid be so mauled and marred, andthen forsaken by the rascal who did it, so that she will never beaught but a dead weight on my two fair sons! The least he can do forme now is to give me my revenge upon that lurdane runaway knight andhis son. But he hath no care for lassies. Mayhap St. Hilda mayserve me better. "

Wherewith the Lady of Whitburn tramped down stairs. It may be fearedthat in the ignorance in which northern valleys were left she wasvery little more enlightened in her ideas of what would please theSaints, or what they could do for her, than were the old heathen ofsome unknown antiquity who used to worship in the mysterious circlesof stones which lay on the downs of Amesbury. 

CHAPTER IV--PARTING

There in the holy house at AlmesburyWeeping, none with her save a little maid. 

TENNYSON, Idylls of the King. 

The agitations of that day had made Grisell so much worse that hermind hardly awoke again to anything but present suffering from fever, and in consequence the aggravation of the wounds on her neck andcheek. She used to moan now and then "Don't take me away!" or cowerin terror, "She is coming!" being her cry, or sometimes "So foul andloathly. " She hung again between life and death, and most of thosearound thought death would be far better for the poor child, but theCountess and the Chaplain still held to the faith that she must bereserved for some great purpose if she survived so much. 

Great families with all their train used to move from one castle ormanor to another so soon as they had eaten up all the produce of oneplace, and the time had come when the Nevils must perforce quitAmesbury. Grisell was in no state for a long journey; she wasexceedingly weak, and as fast as one wound in her face and neckhealed another began to break out, so that often she could hardlyeat, and whether she would ever have the use of her left eye wasdoubtful. 

Master Miles was at his wits' end, Maudlin was weary of waiting onher, and so in truth was every one except the good Countess, and shecould not always be with the sufferer, nor could she carry such apatient to London, whither her lord was summoned to support hisbrother-in-law, the Duke of York, against the Duke of Somerset. 

The only delay was caused by the having to receive the newly-appointed Bishop, Richard Beauchamp, who had been translated from hisformer see at Hereford on the murder of his predecessor, WilliamAyscough, by some of Jack Cade's party. 

In full splendour he came, with a train of chaplains and cross-bearers, and the clergy of Salisbury sent a deputation to meet him, and to arrange with him for his reception and installation. It wasthen that the Countess heard that there was a nun at Wilton Abbey soskilled in the treatment of wounds and sores that she was thought towork miracles, being likewise a very holy woman. 

The Earl and Countess would accompany the new bishop to be present athis enthronement and the ensuing banquet, and the lady made this anopportunity of riding to the convent on her way back, consulting theAbbess, whom she had long known, and likewise seeing Sister Avice, and requesting that her poor little guest might be received andtreated there. 

There was no chance of a refusal, for the great nobles weresovereigns in their own domains; the Countess owned half Wiltshire, and was much loved and honoured in all the religious houses for herdevotion and beneficence. 

The nuns were only too happy to undertake to receive the demoiselleGrisell Dacre of Whitburn, or any other whom my Lady Countess wouldentrust to them, and the Abbess had no doubt that Sister Avice couldeffect a cure. 

Lady Salisbury dreaded that Grisell should lie awake all nightcrying, so she said nothing till her whirlicote, as the carriage ofthose days was called, was actually being prepared, and then she wentto the chamber where the poor child had spent five months, and whereshe was now sitting dressed, but propped up on a sort of settle, andwith half her face still bandaged. 

"My little maid, this is well, " said the Countess. "Come with me. Iam going to take thee to a kind and holy dame who will, I trust, withthe blessing of Heaven, be able to heal thee better than we havedone. "

"Oh, lady, lady, do not send me away!" cried Grisell; "not from youand Madge. "

"My child, I must do so; I am going away myself, with my lord, andMadge is to go back with her brother to her father the Duke. Thoucouldst not brook the journey, and I will take thee myself to thegood Sister Avice. "

"A nun, a nunnery, " sighed Grisell. "Oh! I shall be mewed up thereand never come forth again! Do not, I pray, do not, good my lady, send me thither!"

Perhaps my lady thought that to remain for life in a convent might bethe fate, and perhaps the happiest, of the poor blighted girl, butshe only told her that there was no reason she should not leaveWilton, as she was not put there to take the vows, but only to becured. 

Long nursing had made Grisell unreasonable, and she cried as much asshe dared over the order; but no child ventured to make muchresistance to elders in those days, and especially not to theCountess, so Grisell, a very poor little wasted being, was carrieddown, and only delayed in the hall for an affectionate kiss fromMargaret of York. 

"And here is a keepsake, Grisell, " she said. "Mine own beauteouspouncet box, with the forget-me-nots in turquoises round each littlehole. "

"I will keep it for ever, " said Grisell, and they parted, but not asgirls part who hope to meet again, and can write letters constantly, but with tearful eyes and clinging hands, as little like to meetagain, or even to hear more of one another. 

The whirlicote was not much better than an ornamental waggon, andLady Salisbury, with the Mother of the Maids, did their best tolessen the force of the jolts as by six stout horses it was draggedover the chalk road over the downs, passing the wonderful stones ofAmesbury--a wider circle than even Stonehenge, though without thetriliths, i. E. The stones laid one over the tops of the other twolike a doorway. Grisell heard some thing murmured about Merlin andArthur and Guinevere, but she did not heed, and she was quite wornout with fatigue by the time they reached the descent into the longsmooth valley where Wilton Abbey stood, and the spire of theCathedral could be seen rising tall and beautiful. 

The convent lay low, among meadows all shut in with fine elm trees, and the cows belonging to the sisters were being driven home, theirbells tinkling. There was an outer court, within an arched gate keptby a stout porter, and thus far came the whirlicote and theCountess's attendants; but a lay porteress, in a cap and veil andblack dress, came out to receive her as the door of the carriage wasopened, and held out her arms to receive the muffled figure of thelittle visitor. "Ah, poor maid, " she said, "but Sister Avice willsoon heal her. "

At the deeply ornamented round archway of the inner gate to thecloistered court stood the Lady Abbess, at the head of all hersisters, drawn up in double line to receive the Countess, whom theytook to their refectory and to their chapel. 

Of this, however, Grisell saw nothing, for she had been taken intothe arms of a tall nun in a black veil. At first she shuddered andwould have screamed if she had been a little stronger and less tired, for illness and weakness had brought back the babyish horror ofanything black; but she felt soothed by the sweet voice and tenderwords, "Poor little one! she is fore spent. She shall lie down on asoft bed, and have some sweet milk anon. "

Still a deadly feeling of faintness came upon her before she had beencarried to the little bed which had been made ready for her. Whenshe opened her eyes, while a spoon was held to her lips, the firstthing she saw was the sweetest, calmest, most motherly of faces bentover her, one arm round her, the other giving her the spoon of somecordial. She looked up and even smiled, though it was a sadcontorted smile, which brought a tear into the good sister's eyes;but then she fell asleep, and only half awoke when the Countess cameup to see her for the last time, and bade her farewell with a kiss onher forehead, and a charge to Sister Avice to watch her well, and betender with her. Indeed no one could look at Sister Avice's gentleface and think there was much need of the charge. 

Sister Avice was one of the women who seem to be especially born forthe gentlest tasks of womanhood. She might have been an excellentwife and mother, but from the very hour of her birth she had beenvowed to be a nun in gratitude on her mother's part for her father'ssafety at Agincourt. She had been placed at Wilton when almost ababy, and had never gone farther from it than on very rare occasionsto the Cathedral at Salisbury; but she had grown up with a wonderfulinstinct for nursing and healing, and had a curious insight into theproperties of herbs, as well as a soft deft hand and touch, so thatfor some years she had been sister infirmarer, and moreover the sickwere often brought to the gates for her counsel, treatment, or, assome believed, even her healing touch. 

When Grisell awoke she was alone in the long, large, low room, whichwas really built over the Norman cloister. The walls were of palecreamy stone, but at the end where she lay there were hangings offaded tapestry. At one end there was a window, through the thickglass of which could be dimly seen, as Grisell raised herself alittle, beautiful trees, and the splendid spire of the Cathedralrising, as she dreamily thought, like a finger pointing upwards. Nearer were several more narrow windows along the side of the room, and that beside her bed had the lattice open, so that she saw asloping green bank, with a river at the foot; and there was a trimgarden between. Opposite to her there seemed to be another windowwith a curtain drawn across it, through which came what perhaps hadwakened her, a low, clear murmuring tone, pausing and broken by thefull, sweet, if rather shrill response in women's voices. Beneaththat window was a little altar, with a crucifix and two candlesticks, a holy-water stoup by the side, and there was above the little deepwindow a carving of the Blessed Virgin with the Holy Child, on eitherside a niche, one with a figure of a nun holding a taper, the otherof a bishop with a book. 

Grisell might have begun crying again at finding herself alone, butthe sweet chanting lulled her, and she lay back on her pillows, halfdozing but quite content, except that the wound on her neck feltstiff and dry; and by and by when the chanting ceased, the kind nun, with a lay sister, came back again carrying water and otherappliances, at sight of which Grisell shuddered, for Master Milesnever touched her without putting her to pain. 

"Benedicite, my little maid, thou art awake, " said Sister Avice. "Ithought thou wouldst sleep till the vespers were ended. Now let usdress these sad wounds of thine, and thou shalt sleep again. "

Grisell submitted, as she knew she must, but to her surprise SisterAvice's touch was as soft and soothing as were her words, and theointment she applied was fragrant and delicious and did not burn orhurt her. 

She looked up gratefully, and murmured her thanks, and then theevening meal was brought in, and she sat up to partake of it on theseat of the window looking out on the Cathedral spire. It was a milkposset far more nicely flavoured than what she had been used to atAmesbury, where, in spite of the Countess's kindness, the master cookhad grown tired of any special service for the Dacre wench; andunless Margaret of York secured fruit for her, she was apt to beregaled with only the scraps that Maudlin managed to cater for herafter the meals were over. 

After that, Sister Avice gently undressed her, took care that shesaid her prayers, and sat by her till she fell asleep, herselftelling her that she should sleep beside her, and that she would hearthe voices of the sisters singing in the chapel their matins andlauds. Grisell did hear them, as in a dream, but she had not sleptso well since her disaster as she slept on that night. 

CHAPTER V--SISTER AVICE

Love, to her ear, was but a nameCombined with vanity and shame;Her hopes, her fears, her joys, were allBounded within the cloister wall. 

SCOTT, Marmion. 

Sister Avice sat in the infirmary, diligently picking the leaves offa large mass of wood-sorrel which had been brought to her by thechildren around, to make therewith a conserve. 

Grisell lay on her couch. She had been dressed, and had knelt at thewindow, where the curtain was drawn back while mass was said by theChaplain, the nuns kneeling in their order and making theirresponses. It was a low-browed chapel of Norman or even older days, with circular arches and heavy round piers, and so dark that thegleam of the candles was needed to light it. 

Grisell watched, till tired with kneeling she went back to her couch, slept a little, and then wondered to see Sister Avice stillcompounding her simples. 

She moved wearily, and sighed for Madge to come in and tell her allthe news of Amesbury--who was riding at the ring, or who had shot thebest bolt, or who had had her work picked out as not neat or wellshaded enough. 

Sister Avice came and shook up her pillow, and gave her a dried plumand a little milk, and began to talk to her. 

"You will soon be better, " she said, "and then you will be able toplay in the garden. "

"Is there any playfellow for me?" asked Grisell. 

"There is a little maid from Bemerton, who comes daily to learn herhornbook and her sampler. Mayhap she will stay and play with you. "

"I had Madge at Amesbury; I shall love no one as well as Madge! Seewhat she gave me. "

Grisell displayed her pouncet box, which was duly admired, and thenshe asked wearily whether she should always have to stay in theconvent. 

"Oh no, not of need, " said the sister. "Many a maiden who has beenhere for a time has gone out into the world, but some love this homethe best, as I have done. "

"Did yonder nun on the wall?" asked Grisell. 

"Yea, truly. She was bred here, and never left it, though she was aKing's daughter. Edith was her name, and two days after Holy Crossday we shall keep her feast. Shall I tell you her story?"

"Prithee, prithee!" exclaimed Grisell. "I love a tale dearly. "

Sister Avice told the legend, how St. Edith grew in love andtenderness at Wilton, and how she loved the gliding river and theflowers in the garden, and how all loved her, her young playmatesespecially. She promised one who went away to be wedded that shewould be godmother to her first little daughter, but ere the daughterwas born the saintly Edith had died. The babe was carried to bechristened in the font at Winchester Cathedral, and by a great andholy man, no other than Alphegius, who was then Bishop of Winchester, but was made Archbishop of Canterbury, and died a holy martyr. 

"Then, " said Sister Avice, "there was a great marvel, for among thesponsors around the square black font there stood another figure inthe dress of our Mother Abbess, and as the Bishop spake and said, "Bear this taper, in token that thy lamp shall be alight when theBridegroom cometh, " the form held the torch, shining bright, clear, and like no candle or light on earth ever shone, and the face was theface of the holy Edith. It is even said that she held the babe, butthat I know not, being a spirit without a body, but she spake thename, her own name Edith. And when the holy rite was over, she hadvanished away. "

"And that is she, with the lamp in her hand? Oh, I should have beenafraid!" cried Grisell. 

"Not of the holy soul?" said the sister. 

"Oh! I hope she will never come in here, by the little window intothe church, " cried Grisell trembling. 

Indeed, for some time, in spite of all Sister Avice could say, Grisell could not at night be free from the fear of a visit from St. Edith, who, as she was told, slept her long sleep in the churchbelow. It may be feared that one chief reliance was on the fact thatshe could not be holy enough for a vision of the Saint, but this wasnot so valuable to her as the touch of Sister Avice's kind hand, orthe very knowing her present. 

That story was the prelude to many more. Grisell wanted to hear itover again, and then who was the Archbishop martyr, and who were theVirgins in memory of whom the lamps were carried. Both these, andmany another history, parable, or legend were told her by SisterAvice, training her soul, throughout the long recovery, which wasstill very slow, but was becoming more confirmed every day. Grisellcould use her eye, turn her head, and the wounds closed healthilyunder the sister's treatment without showing symptoms of breaking outafresh; and she grew in strength likewise, first taking a walk in thetrim garden and orchard, and by and by being pronounced able to jointhe other girl scholars of the convent. Only here was the firstdemur. Her looks did not recover with her health. She remained witha much-seamed neck, and a terrible scar across each cheek, on oneside purple, and her eyebrows were entirely gone. 

She seemed to have forgotten the matter while she was entirely in theinfirmary, with no companion but Sister Avice, and occasionally a laysister, who came to help; but the first time she went down the turretstair into the cloister--a beautiful succession of arches round agreen court--she met a novice and a girl about her own age; the eldergave a little scream at the sight and ran away. 

The other hung back. "Mary, come hither, " said Sister Avice. "Thisis Grisell Dacre, who hath suffered so much. Wilt thou not come andkiss and welcome her?"

Mary came forward rather reluctantly, but Grisell drew up her headwithin, "Oh, if you had liefer not!" and turned her back on the girl. 

Sister Avice followed as Grisell walked away as fast as her weaknessallowed, and found her sitting breathless at the third step on thestairs. 

"Oh, no--go away--don't bring her. Every one will hate me, " sobbedthe poor child. 

Avice could only gather her into her arms, though embraces wereagainst the strict rule of Benedictine nuns, and soothe and coax herto believe that by one at least she was not hated. 

"I had forgotten, " said Grisell. "I saw myself once at Amesbury! butmy face was not well then. Let me see again, sister! Where's amirror?"

"Ah! my child, we nuns are not allowed the use of worldly things likemirrors; I never saw one in my life. "

"But oh, for pity's sake, tell me what like am I. Am I so loathly?"

"Nay, my dear maid, I love thee too well to think of aught save thatthou art mine own little one, given back to us by the will of Heaven. Aye, and so will others think of thee, if thou art good and loving tothem. "

"Nay, nay, none will ever love me! All will hate and flee from me, as from a basilisk or cockatrice, or the Loathly Worm ofSpindlesheugh, " sobbed Grisell. 

"Then, my maid, thou must win them back by thy sweet words and kinddeeds. They are better than looks. And here too they shall soonthink only of what thou art, not of what thou look'st. "

"But know you, sister, how--how I should have been married to LeonardCopeland, the very youth that did me this despite, and he is fair andbeauteous as a very angel, and I did love him so, and now he and hisfather rid away from Amesbury, and left me because I am so foul tosee, " cried Grisell, between her sobs. 

"If they could treat thee thus despiteously, he would surely not havemade thee a good husband, " reasoned the sister. 

"But I shall never have a husband now, " wailed Grisell. 

"Belike not, " said Sister Avice; "but, my sweetheart, there is betterpeace and rest and cheer in such a home as this holy house, than inthe toils and labours of the world. When my sisters at Dunbridge andDinton come to see me they look old and careworn, and are full oftales of the turmoil and trouble of husbands, and sons, and dues, andtenants' fees, and villeins, and I know not what, that I often thinkthat even in this world's sense I am the best off. And far above andbeyond that, " she added, in a low voice, "the virgin hath a hope, aSpouse beyond all human thought. "

Grisell did not understand the thought, and still wept bitterly. "Must she be a nun all her life?" was all she thought of, and theshady cloister seemed to her like a sort of prison. Sister Avice hadto soothe and comfort her, till her tears were all spent, as so oftenbefore, and she had cried herself so ill that she had to be takenback to her bed and lie down again. It was some days before shecould be coaxed out again to encounter any companions. 

However, as time went on, health, and with it spirits and life, cameback to Grisell Dacre at Wilton, and she became accustomed to beingwith the other inmates of the fine old convent, as they grew too muchused to her appearance to be startled or even to think about it. Theabsence of mirrors prevented it from ever being brought before her, and Sister Avice set herself to teach her how goodness, sweetness, and kindness could endear any countenance, and indeed Grisell saw forherself how much more loved was the old and very plain Mother Annethan the very beautiful young Sister Isabel, who had been forced intothe convent by her tyrannical brother, and wore out her life infretting and rudeness to all who came in her way. She declared thatthe sight of Grisell made her ill, and insisted that the veiled hoodwhich all the girls wore should be pulled forward whenever they camenear one another, and that Grisell's place should be out of her sightin chapel or refectory. 

Every one else, however, was very kind to the poor girl, Sister Aviceespecially so, and Grisell soon forgot her disfigurement when sheceased to suffer from it. She had begun to learn reading, writing, and a little Latin, besides spinning, stitchery, and a fewhousewifely arts, in the Countess of Salisbury's household, for everylady was supposed to be educated in these arts, and greatestablishments were schools for the damsels there bred up. It wasthe same with convent life, and each nunnery had traditional works ofits own, either in embroidery, cookery, or medicine. Some secretsthere were not imparted beyond the professed nuns, and only to themore trustworthy of them, so that each sisterhood might have its ownespecial glory in confections, whether in portrait-worked vestments, in illuminations, in sweetmeats, or in salves and unguents; but thepensioners were instructed in all those common arts of bakery, needlework, notability, and surgery which made the lady of a castleor manor so important, and within the last century in the morefashionable abbeys Latin of a sort, French "of the school ofStratford le Bowe, " and the like, were added. Thus Grisell learnt asan apt scholar these arts, and took especial delight in helpingSister Avice to compound her simples, and acquired a tender hand withwhich to apply them. 

Moreover, she learnt not only to say and sing her Breviary, but toknow the signification in English. There were translations of theLord's Prayer and Creed in the hands of all careful and thoughtfulpeople, even among the poor, if they had a good parish priest, or hadcome under the influence of the better sort of friars. In conventswhere discipline was kept up the meaning was carefully taught, andthere were English primers in the hands of all the devout, so thatthe services could be intelligently followed even by those who didnot learn Latin, as did Grisell. Selections from Scripture history, generally clothed in rhyme, and versified lives of the Saints, wereread aloud at meal-times in the refectory, and Grisell became so gooda reader that she was often chosen to chant out the sacred story, andher sweet northern voice was much valued in the singing in thechurch. She was quite at home there, and though too young to beadmitted as a novice, she wore a black dress and white hood liketheirs, and the annual gifts to the nunnery from the Countess ofSalisbury were held to entitle her to the residence there as apensioner. She had fully accepted the idea of spending her lifethere, sheltered from the world, among the kind women whom she loved, and who had learnt to love her, and in devotion to God, and works ofmercy to the sick. 

CHAPTER VI--THE PROCTOR

But if a mannes soul were in his purse, For in his purse he should yfurnished be. 

CHAUCER, Canterbury Pilgrims. 

Five years had passed since Grisell had been received at Wilton, whenthe Abbess died. She had been infirm and confined to her lodging formany months, and Grisell had hardly seen her, but her death was tochange the whole tenor of the maiden's life. 

The funeral ceremonies took place in full state. The Bishop himselfcame to attend them, and likewise all the neighbouring clergy, andthe monks, friars, and nuns, overflowing the chapel, while peasantsand beggars for whom there was no room in the courts encamped outsidethe walls, to receive the dole and pray for the soul of the rightreverend Mother Abbess. 

For nine days constant services were kept up, and the requiem masswas daily said, the dirges daily sung, and the alms bestowed on thecrowd, who were by no means specially sorrowful or devout, butbeguiled the time by watching jongleurs and mountebanks performingbeyond the walls. 

There was the "Month's Mind" still to come, and then the chapter ofnuns intended to proceed to the election of their new Abbess, unanimously agreeing that she should be their present Prioress, whohad held kindly rule over them through the slow to-decay of the lateAbbess. Before, however, this could be done a messenger arrived on amule bearing an inhibition to the sisters to proceed in the election. 

His holiness Pope Calixtus had reserved to himself the nextappointment to this as well as to certain other wealthy abbeys. 

The nuns in much distress appealed to the Bishop, but he could donothing for them. Such reservations had been constant in thesubservient days that followed King John's homage, and though thegreat Edwards had struggled against them, and the yoke had beenshaken off during the Great Schism, no sooner had this been healedthan the former claims were revived, nay, redoubled, and the piousHenry VI. Was not the man to resist them. The sisters thereforewaited in suspense, daring only meekly to recommend their Prioress ina humble letter, written by the Chaplain, and backed by arecommendation from Bishop Beauchamp. Both alike were disregarded, as all had expected. 

The new Abbess thus appointed was the Madre Matilda de Borgia, arelation of Pope Calixtus, very noble, and of Spanish birth, as theCommissioner assured the nuns; but they had never heard of herbefore, and were not at all gratified. They had always elected theirAbbess before, and had quite made up their minds as to the choice ofthe present Mother Prioress as Abbess, and of Sister Avice asPrioress. 

However, they had only to submit. To appeal to the King or to theirBishop would have been quite useless; they could only do as the Popecommanded, and elect the Mother Matilda, consoling themselves withthe reflection that she was not likely to trouble herself about them, and their old Prioress would govern them. And so she did so far asregarded the discipline of the house, but what they had not soentirely understood was the Mother de Borgia's desire to squeeze allshe could out of the revenues of the house. 

Her Proctor arrived, a little pinched man in a black gown and squarecap, and desired to see the Mother Prioress and her steward, and tooverlook the income and expenditure of the convent; to know who hadduly paid her dowry to the nunnery, what were the rents, and thelike. The sisters had already raised a considerable gift in silvermerks to be sent through Lombard merchants to their new Abbess, andthis requisition was a fresh blow. 

Presently the Proctor marked out Grisell Dacre, and asked on whatterms she was at the convent. It was explained that she had beenbrought thither for her cure by the Lady of Salisbury, and had stayedon, without fee or payment from her own home in the north, but theample donations of the Earl of Salisbury had been held as fullcompensation, and it had been contemplated to send to the maiden'sfamily to obtain permission to enrol her as a sister after hernovitiate--which might soon begin, as she was fifteen years old. 

The Proctor, however, was much displeased. The nuns had no right toreceive a pensioner without payment, far less to admit a novice as asister without a dowry. 

Mistress Grisell must be returned instantly upon the hands either ofher own family or of the Countess of Salisbury, and certainly notreadmitted unless her dowry were paid. He scarcely consented to givetime for communication with the Countess, to consider how to disposeof the poor child. 

The Prioress sent messengers to Amesbury and to Christ Church, butthe Earl and Countess were not there, nor was it clear where theywere likely to be. Whitburn was too far off to send to in the timeallowed by the Proctor, and Grisell had heard nothing from her homeall the time she had been at Wilton. The only thing that thePrioress could devise, was to request the Chaplain to seek her out atSalisbury a trustworthy escort, pilgrim, merchant or other, with whomGrisell might safely travel to London, and if the Earl and Countesswere not there, some responsible person of theirs, or of their son's, was sure to be found, who would send the maiden on. 

The Chaplain mounted his mule and rode over to Salisbury, whence hereturned, bringing with him news of a merchant's wife who was aboutto go on pilgrimage to fulfil a vow at Walsingham, and would feelherself honoured by acting as the convoy of the Lady Grisell Dacre asfar at least as London. 

There was no further hope of delay or failure. Poor Grisell must becast out on the world--the Proctor even spoke of calling theCountess, or her steward, to account for her maintenance during thesefive years. 

There was weeping and wailing in the cloisters at the parting, andGrisell clung to Sister Avice, mourning for her peaceful, holy life. 

"Nay, my child, none can take from thee a holy life. "

"If I make a vow of virginity none can hinder me. "

"That was not what I meant. No maid has a right to take such a vowon herself without consent of her father, nor is it bindingotherwise. No! but no one can take away from a Christian maid thepower of holiness. Bear that for ever in mind, sweetheart. Naughtthat can be done by man or by devil to the body can hurt the soulthat is fixed on Christ and does not consent to evil. "

"The Saints forefend that ever--ever I should consent to evil. "

"It is the Blessed Spirit alone who can guard thy will, my child. Will and soul not consenting nor being led astray thou art safe. Nay, the lack of a fair-favoured face may be thy guard. "

"All will hate me. Alack! alack!"

"Not so. See, thou hast won love amongst us. Wherefore shouldst notthou in like manner win love among thine own people?"

"My mother hates me already, and my father heeds me not. "

"Love them, child! Do them good offices! None can hinder thee fromthat. "

"Can I love those who love not me?"

"Yea, little one. To serve and tend another brings the heart tolove. Even as thou seest a poor dog love the master who beats him, so it is with us, only with the higher Christian love. Service andprayer open the heart to love, hoping for nothing again, and full oftthat which was not hoped for is vouchsafed. "

That was the comfort with which Grisell had to start from her home ofpeace, conducted by the Chaplain, and even the Prioress, who wouldherself give her into the hands of the good Mistress Hall. 

Very early they heard mass in the convent, and then rode along thebank of the river, with the downs sloping down on the other side, andthe grand spire ever seeming as it were taller as they came nearer;while the sound of the bells grew upon them, for there was then asecond tower beyond to hold the bells, whose reverberation would havebeen dangerous to the spire, and most sweet was their chime, thesound of which had indeed often reached Wilton in favourable winds;but it sounded like a sad farewell to Grisell. 

The Prioress thought she ought to begin her journey by kneeling inthe Cathedral, so they crossed the shaded close and entered by thewest door with the long vista of clustered columns and pointed archesbefore them. 

Low sounds of mass being said at different altars met their ears, forit was still early in the day. The Prioress passed the length ofnave, and went beyond the choir to the lady chapel, with its slendersupporting columns and exquisite arches, and there she, with Grisellby her side, joined in earnest supplications for the child. 

The Chaplain touched her as she rose, and made her aware that thedame arrayed in a scarlet mantle and hood and dark riding-dress wasMistress Hall. 

Silence was not observed in cathedrals or churches, especially in thenaves, except when any sacred rite was going on, and no sooner wasthe mass finished and "Ite missa est" pronounced than the scarletcloak rose, and hastened into the south transept, where she waitedfor the Chaplain, Prioress, and Grisell. No introduction seemedneeded. "The Holy Mother Prioress, " she began, bending her knee andkissing the lady's hand. "Much honoured am I by the charge of thisnoble little lady. " Grisell by the by was far taller than the plumplittle goodwoman Hall, but that was no matter, and the Prioress hadbarely space to get in a word of thanks before she went on: "I willkeep her and tend her as the apple of mine eye. She shall pray withme at all the holy shrines for the good of her soul and mine. Sheshall be my bedfellow wherever we halt, and sit next me, and becherished as though she were mine own daughter--ladybird as she is--till I can give her into the hands of the good Lady Countess. Ohyes--you may trust Joan Hall, dame reverend mother. She is no newtraveller. I have been in my time to all our shrines--to St. Thomasof Canterbury, to St. Winifred's Well, aye, and, moreover, to St. James of Compostella, and St. Martha of Provence, not to speak oflesser chantries and Saints. Aye, and I crossed the sea to see theholy coat of Treves, and St. Ursula's eleven thousand skulls--and agruesome sight they were. Nay, if the Lady Countess be not in Londonit would cost me little to go on to the north with her. There's St. Andrew of Ely, Hugh, great St. Hugh and little St. Hugh, both of themat Lincoln, and there's St. Wilfred of York, and St. John of Beverly, not to speak of St. Cuthbert of Durham and of St. Hilda of Whitby, who might take it ill if I pray at none of their altars, when I havebeen to so many of their brethren. Oh, you may trust me, reverendmother; I'll never have the young lady, bless her sweet face, out ofmy sight till I have safe bestowed her with my Lady Countess, ourgood customer for all manner of hardware, or else with her own kin. "

The good woman's stream of conversation lasted almost without drawingbreath all the way down the nave. It was a most good-humoured heartyvoice, and her plump figure and rosy face beamed with good nature, while her bright black eyes had a lively glance. 

The Chaplain had inquired about her, and found that she was one ofthe good women to whom pilgrimage was an annual dissipation, consecrated and meritorious as they fondly believed, and gratifyingtheir desire for change and variety. She was a kindly person of goodreputation, trustworthy, and kind to the poor, and stout John Hall, her husband, could manage the business alone, and was thought not toregret a little reprieve from her continual tongue. 

She wanted the Prioress to do her the honour of breaking her fastwith her, but the good nun was in haste to return, after having onceseen her charge in safe hands, and excused herself, while Grisell, blessed by the Chaplain, and hiding her tears under her veil, was ledaway to the substantial smith's abode, where she was to take a firstmeal before starting on her journey on the strong forest pony whichthe Chaplain's care had provided for her. 

CHAPTER VII--THE PILGRIM OF SALISBURY

She hadde passed many a strange shrine, At Rome she had been and at Boleine, At Galice, at St. James, and at Coleine, She could moche of wandering by the way. 

CHAUCER, Canterbury Pilgrims. 

Grisell found herself brought into a hall where a stout oak tableoccupied the centre, covered with home-spun napery, on which stoodtrenchers, wooden bowls, pewter and a few silver cups, and severallarge pitchers of ale, small beer, or milk. A pie and a large pieceof bacon, also a loaf of barley bread and a smaller wheaten one, werethere. 

Shelves all round the walls shone with pewter and copper dishes, cups, kettles, and vessels and implements of all household varieties, and ranged round the floor lay ploughshares, axes, and mattocks, allpolished up. The ring of hammers on the anvil was heard in the courtin the rear. The front of the hall was open for the most part, without windows, but it could be closed at night. 

Breakfast was never a regular meal, and the household had partaken ofit, so that there was no one in the hall excepting Master Hall, astout, brawny, grizzled man, with a good-humoured face, and his son, more slim, but growing into his likeness, also a young notable-looking daughter-in-law with a swaddled baby tucked under her arm. 

They seated Grisell at the table, and implored her to eat. Thewheaten bread and the fowl were, it seemed, provided in her honour, and she could not but take her little knife from the sheath in hergirdle, turn back her nun-like veil, and prepare to try to drive backher sobs, and swallow the milk of almonds pressed on her. 

"Eh!" cried the daughter-in-law in amaze. "She's only scarred afterall. "

"Well, what else should she be, bless her poor heart?" said Mrs. Hallthe elder. 

"Why, wasn't it thou thyself, good mother, that brought home wordthat they had the pig-faced lady at Wilton there?"

"Bless thee, Agnes, thou should'st know better than to lend an ear toall the idle tales thy poor old mother may hear at market or fair. "

"Then should we have enough to do, " muttered her husband. 

"And as thou seest, 'tis a sweet little face, only cruelly marred bythe evil hap. "

Poor Grisell was crimson at finding all eyes on her, an ordeal shehad never undergone in the convent, and she hastily pulled forwardher veil. 

"Nay now, my sweet young lady, take not the idle words in ill part, "pleaded the good hostess. "We all know how to love thee, and what isa smooth skin to a true heart? Take a bit more of the pasty, ladybird; we'll have far to ride ere we get to Wherwell, where thegood sisters will give us a meal for young St. Edward's sake and thyPrioress's. Aye--I turn out of my way for that; I never yet paid mydevotion to poor young King Edward, and he might take it in dudgeon, being a king, and his shrine so near at hand. "

"Ha, ha!" laughed the smith; "trust my dame for being on the rightside of the account with the Saints. Well for me and Jack that wehave little Agnes here to mind the things on earth meanwhile. Nay, nay, dame, I say nought to hinder thee; I know too well what it meanswhen spring comes, and thou beginn'st to moan and tell up the tale ofthe shrines where thou hast not told thy beads. "

It was all in good humour, and Master Hall walked out to the citygate to speed his gad-about or pious wife, whichever he might callher, on her way, apparently quite content to let her go on herpilgrimages for the summer quarter. 

She rode a stout mule, and was attended by two sturdy varlets--quitesufficient guards for pilgrims, who were not supposed to carry anyvaluables. Grisell sadly rode her pony, keeping her veil well overher face, yearning over the last view of the beloved spire, thinkingof Sister Avice ministering to her poor, and with a very definitefear of her own reception in the world and dread of her welcome athome. Yet there was a joy in being on horseback once more, for herwho had ridden moorland ponies as soon as she could walk. 

Goodwife Hall talked on, with anecdotes of every hamlet that theypassed, and these were not very many. At each church they dismountedand said their prayers, and if there were a hostel near, they lettheir animals feed the while, and obtained some refreshmentthemselves. England was not a very safe place for travellers justthen, but the cockle-shells sewn to the pilgrim's hat of the dame, and to that of one of her attendants, and the tall staff and walleteach carried, were passports of security. Nothing could be kinderthan Mistress Hall was to her charge, of whom she was really proud, and when they halted for the night at the nunnery of Queen Elfrida atWherwell, she took care to explain that this was no burgess'sdaughter but the Lady Grisell Dacre of Whitburn, trusted to HERconvoy, and thus obtained for her quarters in the guest-chamber ofthe refectory instead of in the general hospitium; but on the wholeGrisell had rather not have been exposed to the shock of being shownto strangers, even kindly ones, for even if they did not exclaim, some one was sure to start and whisper. 

After another halt for the night the travellers reached London, andlearned at the city gate that the Earl and Countess of Salisbury wereabsent, but that their eldest son, the Earl of Warwick, was keepingcourt at Warwick House. 

Thither therefore Mistress Hall resolved to conduct Grisell. The waylay through narrow streets with houses overhanging the roadway, butthe house itself was like a separate castle, walled round, enclosinga huge space, and with a great arched porter's lodge, where variousmen-at-arms lounged, all adorned on the arm of their red jackets withthe bear and ragged staff. 

They were courteous, however, for the Earl Richard of Warwickinsisted on civility to all comers, and they respected the scallop-shell on the dame's hat. They greeted her good-humouredly. 

"Ha, good-day, good pilgrim wife. Art bound for St. Paul's? Here'ssupper to the fore for all comers!"

"Thanks, sir porter, but this maid is of other mould; she is the LadyGrisell Dacre, and is company for my lord and my lady. "

"Nay, her hood and veil look like company for the Abbess. Come thisway, dame, and we will find the steward to marshal her. "

Grisell had rather have been left to the guardianship of her kind oldfriend, but she was obliged to follow. They dismounted in a finecourt with cloister-like buildings round it, and full of people ofall kinds, for no less than six hundred stout yeomen wore red coatsand the bear and ragged staff. Grisell would fain have clung to herguide, but she was not allowed to do so. She was marshalled up stonesteps into a great hall, where tables were being laid, covered withwhite napery and glittering with silver and pewter. 

The seneschal marched before her all the length of the hall to wherethere was a large fireplace with a burning log, summer though it was, and shut off by handsome tapestried and carved screens sat a halfcircle of ladies, with a young-looking lady in a velvet fur-trimmedsurcoat in their midst. A tall man with a keen, resolute face, inlong robes and gold belt and chain, stood by her leaning on herchair. 

The seneschal announced, "Place, place for the Lady Grisell Dacre ofWhitburn, " and Grisell bent low, putting back as much of her veil asshe felt courtesy absolutely to require. The lady rose, the knightheld out his hand to raise the bending figure. He had that power ofrecollection and recognition which is so great an element inpopularity. "The Lady Grisell Dacre, " he said. "She who met with sosad a disaster when she was one of my lady mother's household?"

Grisell glowing all over signed acquiescence, and he went on, "Welcome to my poor house, lady. Let me present you to my wife. "

The Countess of Warwick was a pale, somewhat inane lady. She was theheiress of the Beauchamps and De Spensers in consequence of therecent death of her brother, "the King of the Isle of Wight"--andthrough her inheritance her husband had risen to his great power. She was delicate and feeble, almost apathetic, and she followed herhusband's lead, and received her guest with fair courtesy; andGrisell ventured in a trembling voice to explain that she had spentthose years at Wilton, but that the new Abbess's Proctor would notconsent to her remaining there any longer, not even long enough tosend to her parents or to the Countess of Salisbury. 

"Poor maiden! Such are the ways of his Holiness where the King isnot man enough to stand in his way, " said Warwick. "So, fair maiden, if you will honour my house for a few days, as my lady's guest, Iwill send you north in more fitting guise than with this white-smithdame. "

"She hath been very good to me, " Grisell ventured to add to herthanks. 

"She shall have good entertainment here, " said the Earl smiling. "Nodoubt she hath already, as Sarum born. See that Goodwife Hall, thewhite smith's wife, and her following have the best of harbouring, "he added to his silver-chained steward. 

"You are a Dacre of Whitburn, " he added to Grisell. "Your father hasnot taken sides with Dacre of Gilsland and the Percies. " Then seeingthat Grisell knew nothing of all this, he laughed and said, "Littleconvent birds, you know nought of our worldly strifes. "

In fact, Grisell had heard nothing from her home for the last fiveyears, which was the less marvel as neither her father nor her mothercould write if they had cared to do so. Nor did the convent knowmuch of the state of England, though prayers had been constantly saidfor the King's recovery, and of late there had been thanksgivings forthe birth of the Prince of Wales; but it was as much as she did knowthat just now the Duke of York was governing, for the poor Kingseemed as senseless as a stone, and the Earl of Salisbury was hisChancellor. Nevertheless Salisbury was absent in the north, andthere was a quarrel going on between the Nevils and the Percies whichWarwick was going to compose, and thus would be able to take Grisellso far in his company. 

The great household was larger than even what she remembered at thehouses of the Countess of Salisbury before her accident, and, freshfrom the stillness of the convent as she was, the noises were amazingto her when all sat down to supper. Tables were laid all along thevast hall. She was placed at the upper one to her relief, beside anold lady, Dame Gresford, whom she remembered to have seen atMontacute Castle in her childhood, as one of the attendants on theCountess. She was forced to put back her veil, and she saw some ofthe young knights and squires staring at her, then nudging oneanother and laughing. 

"Never mind them, sweetheart, " said Dame Gresford kindly; "they arebut unmannerly lurdanes, and the Lord Earl would make them know whatis befitting if his eye fell on them. "

The good lady must have had a hint from the authorities, for she keptGrisell under her wing in the huge household, which was like a cityin itself. There was a knight who acted as steward, with innumerableknights, squires, and pages under him, besides the six hundred redjacketed yoemen, and servants of all degrees, in the immense court ofthe buttery and kitchen, as indeed there had need to be, for six oxenwere daily cooked, with sheep and other meats in proportion, and anyfriend or acquaintance of any one in this huge establishment mightcome in, and not only eat and drink his fill, but carry off as muchmeat as he could on the point of his dagger. 

Goodwife Hall, as coming from Salisbury, stayed there in freequarters, while she made the round of all the shrines in London, andshe was intensely gratified by the great Earl recollecting, orappearing to recollect, her and inquiring after her husband, thathearty burgess, whose pewter was so lasting, and he was sure wasstill in use among his black guard. 

When she saw Grisell on finally departing for St. Albans, she wascarrying her head a good deal higher on the strength of "my LordEarl's grace to her. " She hoped that her sweet Lady Grisell wouldremain here, as the best hap she could have in the most noble, excellent, and open-handed house in the world! Grisell's own wisheswere not the same, for the great household was very bewildering--astrange change from her quietly-busy convent. The Countess was quietenough, but dull and sickly, and chiefly occupied by her ailments. She seemed to be always thinking about leeches, wise friars, wonderful nuns, or even wizards and cunning women, and was muchconcerned that her husband absolutely forbade her consulting thewitch of Spitalfields. 

"Nay, dame, " said he, "an thou didst, the next thing we should hearwould be that thou hadst been sticking pins into King Harry's waxenimage and roasting him before the fire, and that nothing but roastingthee in life and limb within a fire would bring him to life andreason. "

"They would never dare, " cried the lady. 

"Who can tell what the Queen would dare if she gets her will!"demanded the Earl. "Wouldst like to do penance with sheet andcandle, like Gloucester's wife?"

Such a possibility was enough to silence the Lady of Warwick on thescore of witches, and the only time she spoke to Grisell was to askher about Sister Avice and her cures. She set herself to persuadeher husband to let her go down to one of his mother's Wiltshirehouses to consult the nun, but Warwick had business in the north, norwould he allow her to be separated from him, lest she might bedetained as a hostage. 

Dame Gresford continued to be Grisell's protector, and let the girlsit and spin or embroider beside her, while the other ladies of thehouse played at ball in the court, or watched the exercises of thepages and squires. The dame's presence and authority preventedGrisell's being beset with uncivil remarks, but she knew she was likea toad among the butterflies, as she overheard some saucy youthcalling her, while a laugh answered him, and she longed for herconvent. 

CHAPTER VIII--OLD PLAYFELLOWS

 Alone thou goest forth, Thy face unto the north, Moor and pleasance all around thee and beneath thee. 

E. BARRETT BROWNING, A Valediction. 

One great pleasure fell to Grisell's share, but only too brief. Thefamily of the Duke of York on their way to Baynard's Castle halted atWarwick House, and the Duchess Cecily, tall, fair, and stately, sailed into the hall, followed by three fair daughters, whileWarwick, her nephew, though nearly of the same age, advanced with hiswife to meet and receive her. 

In the midst of the exchange of affectionate but formal greetings acry of joy was heard, "My Grisell! yes, it is my Grisell!" andspringing from the midst of her mother's suite, Margaret Plantagenet, a tall, lovely, dark-haired girl, threw her arms round the thinslight maiden with the scarred face, which excited the scorn andsurprise of her two sisters. 

"Margaret! What means this?" demanded the Duchess severely. 

"It is my Grisell Dacre, fair mother, my dear companion at my aunt ofSalisbury's manor, " said Margaret, trying to lead forward hershrinking friend. "She who was so cruelly scathed. "

Grisell curtsied low, but still hung back, and Lord Warwick brieflyexplained. "Daughter to Will Dacre of Whitburn, a staunch baron ofthe north. My mother bestowed her at Wilton, whence the creature ofthe Pope's intruding Abbess has taken upon him to expel her. So I amabout to take her to Middleham, where my mother may see to herfurther bestowal. "

"We have even now come from Middleham, " said the Duchess. "My LordDuke sent for me, but he looks to you, my lord, to compose the strifebetween your father and the insolent Percies. "

The Duke was at Windsor with the poor insane King, and the Earl andthe Duchess plunged into a discussion of the latest news of thenorthern counties and of the Court. The elder daughters werelanguidly entertained by the Countess, but no one disturbed theinterview of Margaret and Grisell, who, hand in hand, had withdrawninto the embrasure of a window, and there fondled each other, andexchanged tidings of their young lives, and Margaret told of friendsin the Nevil household. 

All too soon the interview came to an end. The Duchess, afterpartaking of a manchet, was ready to proceed to Baynard's Castle, andthe Lady Margaret was called for. Again, in spite of surprised, notto say displeased looks, she embraced her dear old playfellow. "Don't go into a convent, Grisell, " she entreated. "When I am weddedto some great earl, you must come and be my lady, mine own, own dearfriend. Promise me! Your pledge, Grisell. "

There was no time for the pledge. Margaret was peremptorilysummoned. They would not meet again. The Duchess's intelligence hadquickened Warwick's departure, and the next day the first startnorthwards was to be made. 

It was a mighty cavalcade. The black guard, namely, the kitchenmenage, with all their pots and pans, kettles and spits, were sent ona day's march beforehand, then came the yeomen, the knights andsquires, followed by the more immediate attendants of the Earl andCountess and their court. She travelled in a whirlicote, and therewere others provided for her elder ladies, the rest riding singly oron pillions according to age or taste. Grisell did not like to partwith her pony, and Dame Gresford preferred a pillion to the bumps andjolts of the waggon-like conveyances called chariots, so Grisell rodeby her side, the fresh spring breezes bringing back the sense ofbeing really a northern maid, and she threw back her veil whenevershe was alone with the attendants, who were used to her, though shedrew it closely round when she encountered town or village. Therewere resting-places on the way. In great monasteries all wereaccommodated, being used to close quarters; in castles there was roomfor the "Gentles, " who, if they fared well, heeded little how theyslept, and their attendants found lairs in the kitchens or stables. In towns there was generally harbour for the noble portion; indeed insome, Warwick had dwellings of his own, or his father's, but these, at first, were at long distances apart, such as would be ridden byhorsemen alone, not encumbered with ladies, and there wereintermediate stages, where some of the party had to be dispersed inhostels. 

It was in one of these, at Dunstable, that Dame Gresford had takenGrisell, and there were also sundry of the gentlemen of the escort. A minstrel was esconced under the wide spread of the chimney, andbegan to sound his harp and sing long ballads in recitative to thecompany. Whether he did it in all innocence and ignorance, or one ofthe young squires had mischievously prompted him, there was noknowing; Dame Gresford suspected the latter, when he began the balladof "Sir Gawaine's Wedding. " She would have silenced it, but fearedto draw more attention on her charge, who had never heard the song, and did not know what was coming, but listened with increasingeagerness as she heard of King Arthur, and of the giant, and thesecret that the King could not guess, till as he rode -

He came to the green forest, Underneath a green hollen tree, There sat that lady in red scarlet That unseemly was to see. 

Some eyes were discourteously turned on the maiden, but she hardlysaw them, and at any rate her nose was not crooked, nor had her eyesand mouth changed places, as in the case of the "Loathly Lady. " Sheheard of the condition on which the lady revealed the secret, and howKing Arthur bound himself to bring a fair young knight to wed thehideous being. Then when he revealed to his assembled knights -

Then some took up their hawks, And some took up their hounds, And some sware they would not marry her For cities nor for towns. 

Glances again went towards the scarred visage, but Grisell washeedless of them, only listening how Sir Gawaine, Arthur's nephew, felt that his uncle's oath must be kept, and offered himself as thebridegroom. 

Then after the marriage, when he looked on the lady, instead of theloathly hag he beheld a fair damsel! And he was told by her that hemight choose whether she should be foul at night and fair by day, orfair each evening and frightful in the daylight hours. His choice atfirst was that her beauty should be for him alone, in his home, butwhen she objected that this would be hard on her, since she couldthus never show her face when other dames ride with their lords -

Then buke him gentle Gawayne, Said, "Lady, that's but a shill;Because thou art mine own lady Thou shalt have all thy will. "

And his courtesy broke the spell of the stepdame, as the lady related-

"She witched me, being a fair young lady, To the green forest to dwell, And there must I walk in woman's likeness, Most like a fiend in hell. "

Thenceforth the enchantment was broken, and Sir Gawaine's bride wasfair to see. 

Grisell had listened intently, absorbed in the narrative, so losingpersonal thought and feeling that it was startling to her to perceivethat Dame Gresford was trying to hush a rude laugh, and one of theyoung squires was saying, "Hush, hush! for very shame. "

Then she saw that they were applying the story to her, and the bloodrushed into her face, but the more courteous youth was trying to turnaway attention by calling on the harper for "The Beggar of BethnalGreen, " or "Lord Thomas and Fair Annet, " or any merry ballad. So itwas borne in on Grisell that to these young gentlemen she was thelady unseemly to see. Yet though a few hot tears flowed, indignantand sorrowful, the sanguine spirit of youth revived. "Sister Avicehad told her how to be not loathly in the sight of those whom shecould teach to love her. "

There was one bound by a pledge! Ah, he would never fulfil it. Ifhe should, Grisell felt a resolute purpose within her that though shecould not be transformed, he should not see her loathly in his sight, and in that hope she slept. 

CHAPTER IX--THE KING-MAKER

O where is faith? O where is loyalty?

SHAKESPEARE, Henry VI. , Part II. 

Grisell was disappointed in her hopes of seeing her Countess ofSalisbury again, for as she rode into the Castle of York she heardthe Earl's hearty voice of greeting. "Ha, stout Will of Whitburn, well met! What, from the north?"

The Earl stood talking with a tall brawny man, lean and strong, brownand weather-beaten, in a frayed suit of buff leather stained to allsorts of colours, in which rust predominated, and a face all brownand red except for the grizzled eyebrows, hair, and stubbly beard. She had not seen her father since she was five years old, and shewould not have known him. 

"I am from the south now, my lord, " she heard his gruff voice say. "I have been taking my lad to be bred up in the Duke of York's house, for better nurture than can be had in my sea-side tower. "

"Quite right. Well done in you, " responded Warwick. "The Duke ofYork is the man to hold by. We have an exchange for you, a daughterfor a son, " and he was leading the way towards Grisell, who had justdismounted from her pony, and stood by it, trembling a little, andbending for her father's blessing. It was not more than a crossingof her, and he was talking all the time. 

"Ha! how now! Methought my Lady of Salisbury had bestowed her in theAbbey--how call you it?"

"Aye, " returned Warwick; "but since we have not had King orParliament with spirit to stand up to the Pope, he thrusts his clawin everywhere, puts a strange Abbess into Wilton, and what must shedo but send down her Proctor to treat the poor nunnery as it were asponge, and spite of all my Lady Mother's bounties to the place, whatlists he do but turn out the poor maid for lack of a dowry, not somuch as giving time for a notice to be sent. "

"If we had such a rogue in the North Country we should know how toserve him, " observed Sir William, and Warwick laughed as befitted aWestmoreland Nevil, albeit he was used to more civilised ways. 

"Scurvy usage, " he said, "but the Prioress had no choice save to puther in such keeping as she could, and send her away to my LadyMother, or failing her to her home. "

"Soh! She must e'en jog off with me, though how it is to be with hermy lady may tell, not I, since every groat those villain yeomen andfisher folk would raise, went to fit out young Rob, and there has notbeen so much as a Border raid these four years and more. There arethe nuns at Gateshead, as hard as nails, will not hear of a maidwithout a dower, and yonder mansworn fellow Copeland casts her offlike an old glove! Let us look at you, wench! Ha! Face isunsightly enough, but thou wilt not be a badly-made woman. Takeheart, what's thy name--Grisell? May be there's luck for thee still, though it be hard of coming to Whitburn, " he added, turning toWarwick. "There's this wench scorched to a cinder, enough to frightone, and my other lad racked from head to foot with pain and sores, so as it is a misery to hear the poor child cry out, and even if hebe reared, he will be good for nought save a convent. "

Grisell would fain have heard more about this poor little brother, but the ladies were entering the castle, and she had to follow them. She saw no more of her father except from the far end of the table, but orders were issued that she should be ready to accompany him onhis homeward way the next morning at six o'clock. Her brother Roberthad been sent in charge of some of the Duke of York's retainers, tojoin his household as a page, though they had missed him on theroute, and the Lord of Whitburn was anxious to get home again, neverbeing quite sure what the Scots, or the Percies, or his kinsmen ofGilsland, might attempt in his absence. "Though, " as he said, "mylady was as good as a dozen men-at-arms, but somehow she had not beenthe same woman since little Bernard had fallen sick. "

There was no one in the company with whom Grisell was very sorry topart, for though Dame Gresford had been kind to her, it had beenmerely the attending to the needs of a charge, not showing her anyaffection, and she had shrunk from the eyes of so large a party. 

When she came down early into the hall, her father's half-dozenretainers were taking their morning meal at one end of a big board, while a manchet of bread and a silver cup of ale was ready for eachof them at the other, and her father while swallowing his was in deepconversation over northern politics with the courteous Earl, who hadcome down to speed his guests. As she passed the retainers sheheard, "Here comes our Grisly Grisell, " and a smothered laugh, and infact "Grisly Grisell" continued to be her name among the free-spokenpeople of the north. The Earl broke off, bowed to her, and saw thatshe was provided, breaking into his conversation with the Baron, evidently much to the impatience of the latter; and again the politenoble came down to the door with her, and placed her on her palfrey, bidding her a kind farewell ere she rode away with her father. Itwould be long before she met with such courtesy again. Her fathercalled to his side his old, rugged-looking esquire Cuthbert Ridley, and began discussing with him what Lord Warwick had said, both whollyabsorbed in the subject, and paying no attention to the girl who rodeby the Baron's side, so that it was well that her old infantinetraining in horsemanship had come back to her. 

She remembered Cuthbert Ridley, who had carried her about and pettedher long ago, and, to her surprise, looked no older than he had donein those days when he had seemed to her infinitely aged. Indeed itwas to him, far more than to her father, that she owed any attentionor care taken of her on the journey. Her father was not unkind, butnever seemed to recollect that she needed any more care than hisrough followers, and once or twice he and all his people rode offheadlong over the fell at sight of a stag roused by one of theirgreat deer-hounds. Then Cuthbert Ridley kept beside her, and whenthe ground became too rough for a New Forest pony and a handunaccustomed to northern ground, he drew up. She would probably--ifnot thrown and injured--have been left behind to feel herself lost onthe moors. She minded the less his somewhat rude ejaculation, "Ho!Ho! South! South! Forgot how to back a horse on rough ground. Eh?And what a poor soft-paced beast! Only fit to ride on my lady'spilgrimage or in a State procession. "

(He said Gang, but neither the Old English nor the northern dialectcould be understood by the writer or the reader, and must be takenfor granted. )

"They are all gone!" responded Grisell, rather frightened. 

"Never guessed you were not among them, " replied Ridley. "Why, mylady would be among the foremost, in at the death belike, if she didnot cut the throat of the quarry. "

Grisell could well believe it, but used to gentle nuns, she shuddereda little as she asked what they were to do next. 

"Turn back to the track, and go softly on till my lord comes up withus, " answered Ridley. "Or you might be fain to rest under a rock fora while. "

The rest was far from unwelcome, and Grisell sat down on a mossystone while Ridley gathered bracken for her shelter, and presentlyeven brought her a branch or two of whortle-berries. She felt thatshe had a friend, and was pleased when he began to talk of how heremembered her long ago. 

"Ah! I mind you, a little fat ball of a thing, when you were fetchedhome from Herring Dick's house, how you used to run after the dogslike a kitten after her tail, and used to crave to be put up on oldBlack Durham's back. "

"I remember Black Durham! Had he not a white star on his forehead?"

"A white blaze sure enough. "

"Is he at the tower still? I did not see him in the plump ofspears. "

"No, no, poor beast. He broke his leg four years ago come Martinmas, in a rabbit-hole on Berwick Law, last raid that we made, and Itarried to cut his throat with my dagger--though it went to my heart, for his good old eyes looked at me like Christians, and my lord toldme I was a fool for my pains, for the Elliots were hard upon us, butI could not leave him to be a mark for them, and I was up with therest in time, though I had to cut down the foremost lad. "

Certainly "home" would be very unlike the experience of Grisell'seducation. 

Ridley gave her a piece of advice. "Do not be daunted at my lady;her bark is ever worse than her bite, and what she will not bear withis the seeming cowed before her. She is all the sharper with hertongue now that her heart is sore for Master Bernard. "

"What ails my brother Bernard?" then asked Grisell anxiously. 

"The saints may know, but no man does, unless it was that Crooked Nanof Strait Glen overlooked the poor child, " returned the esquire. "Ever since he fell into the red beck he hath done nought but peakand pine, and be twisted with cramps and aches, with sores breakingout on him; though there's a honeycomb-stone from Roker over his bed. My lord took out all the retainers to lay hold on Crooked Nan, butshe got scent of it no doubt, for Jack of Burhill took his oath thathe had seen a muckle hare run up the glen that morn, and when we gotthere she was not to be seen or heard of. We have heard of her inthe Gilsland ground, where they would all the sooner see a the younglad of Whitburn crippled and a mere misery to see or hear. "

Grisell was quite as ready to believe in witchcraft as was the oldsquire, and to tremble at their capacities for mischief. She askedwhat nunneries were near, and was disappointed to find nothing withineasy reach. St. Cuthbert's diocese had not greatly favouredwomankind, and Whitby was far away. 

By and by her father came back, the thundering tramp of the horsesbeing heard in time enough for her to spring up and be mounted againbefore he came in sight, the yeomen carrying the antlers and bestportions of the deer. 

"Left out, my wench, " he shouted. "We must mount you better. Ho!Cuthbert, thou a squire of dames? Ha! Ha!"

"The maid could not be left to lose herself on the fells, " mutteredthe squire, rather ashamed of his courtesy. 

"She must get rid of nunnery breeding. We want no trim and daintylassies here, " growled her father. "Look you, Ridley, that horse ofHob's--" and the rest was lost in a discussion on horseflesh. 

Long rides, which almost exhausted Grisell, and halts in exceedinglyuncomfortable hostels, where she could hardly obtain tolerableseclusion, brought her at last within reach of home. There was atall church tower and some wretched hovels round it. The Lord ofWhitburn halted, and blew his bugle with the peculiar note thatsignified his own return, then all rode down to the old peel, theoutline of which Grisell saw with a sense of remembrance, against thegray sea-line, with the little breaking, glancing waves, which shenow knew herself to have unconsciously wanted and missed for yearspast. 

Whitburn Tower stood on the south side, on a steep cliff overlookingthe sea. The peel tower itself looked high and strong, but toGrisell, accustomed to the widespread courts of the great castles andabbeys of the south, the circuit of outbuildings seemed very narrowand cramped, for truly there was need to have no more walls thancould be helped for the few defenders to guard. 

All was open now, and under the arched gateway, with the portcullisover her head, fitly framing her, stood the tall, gaunt figure of thelady, grayer, thinner, more haggard than when Grisell had last seenher, and beside her, leaning on a crutch, a white-faced boy, smalland stunted for six years old. 

"Ha, dame! Ha, Bernard; how goes it?" shouted the Baron in hisgruff, hoarse voice. 

"He willed to come down to greet you, though he cannot hold yourstirrup, " said the mother. "You are soon returned. Is all well withRob?"

"O aye, I found Thorslan of Danby and a plump of spears on the way tothe Duke of York at Windsor. They say he will need all his followingif the Beauforts put it about that the King has recovered as much witas ever he had. So I e'en sent Rob on with him, and came back so asto be ready in case there's a call for me. Soh! Berney; on thy feetagain? That's well, my lad; but we'll have thee up the steps. "

He seemed quite to have forgotten the presence of Grisell, and it wasCuthbert Ridley who helped her off her horse, but just then littleBernard in his father's arms exclaimed

"Black nun woman!"

"By St. Cuthbert!" cried the Baron, "I mind me! Here, wench! I havebrought back the maid in her brother's stead. "

And as Grisell, in obedience to his call, threw back her veil, Bernard screamed, "Ugsome wench, send her away!" threw his arms roundhis father's neck and hid his face with a babyish gesture. 

"Saints have mercy!" cried the mother, "thou hast not mended muchsince I saw thee last. They that marred thee had best have keptthee. Whatever shall we do with the maid?"

"Send her away, the loathly thing, " reiterated the boy, lifting uphis head from his father's shoulder for another glimpse, whichproduced a puckering of the face in readiness for crying. 

"Nay, nay, Bernard, " said Ridley, feeling for the poor girl andspeaking up for her when no one else would. "She is your sister, andyou must be a fond brother to her, for an ill-nurtured lad spoilt herpoor face when it was as fair as your own. Kiss your sister like agood lad, and -

"No! no!" shouted Bernard. "Take her away. I hate her. " He beganto cry and kick. 

"Get out of his sight as fast as may be, " commanded the mother, alarmed by her sickly darling's paroxysm of passion. 

Grisell, scarce knowing where to go, could only allow herself to beled away by Ridley, who, seeing her tears, tried to comfort her inhis rough way. "'Tis the petted bairn's way, you see, mistress--andmy lady has no thought save for him. He will get over it soon enoughwhen he learns your gentle convent-bred conditions. "

Still the cry of "Grisly Grisell, " picked up as if by instinct or bysome echo from the rear of the escort, rang in her ears in the angryfretful voice of the poor little creature towards whom her heart wasyearning. Even the two women-servants there were, no more looked ather askance, as they took her to a seat in the hall, and consultedwhere my lady would have her bestowed. She was wiping away bittertears as she heard her only friend Cuthbert settle the matter. "Thechamber within the solar is the place for the noble damsels. "

"That is full of old armour, and dried herrings, and stockfish. "

"Move them then! A fair greeting to give to my lord's daughter. "

There was some further muttering about a bed, and Grisell sprang up. "Oh, hush! hush! I can sleep on a cloak; I have done so for manynights. Only let me be no burthen. Show me where I can go to be ananchoress, since they will not have me in a convent or anywhere, " andbitterly she wept. 

"Peace, peace, lady, " said the squire kindly. "I will deal withthese ill-tongued lasses. Shame on them! Go off, and make thechamber ready, or I'll find a scourge for you. And as to my lady--she is wrapped up in the sick bairn, but she has only to get used toyou to be friendly enough. "

"O what a hope in a mother, " thought poor Grisell. "O that I were atWilton or some nunnery, where my looks would be pardoned! MotherAvice, dear mother, what wouldst thou say to me now!"

The peel tower had been the original building, and was still as itwere the citadel, but below had been built the very strong but narrowcastle court, containing the stables and the well, and likewise thehall and kitchen--which were the dwelling and sleeping places of themen of the household, excepting Cuthbert Ridley, who being of gentleblood, would sit above the salt, and had his quarters with Rob whenat home in the tower. The solar was a room above the hall, where wasthe great box-bed of the lord and lady, and a little bed for Bernard. 

Entered through it, in a small turret, was a chamber designed for thedaughters and maids, and this was rightly appropriated by Ridley tothe Lady Grisell. The two women-servants--Bell and Madge--were wivesto the cook and the castle smith, so the place had been disused andmade a receptacle for drying fish, fruit, and the like. Thus thesudden call for its use provoked a storm of murmurs in no gentlevoices, and Grisell shrank into a corner of the hall, only wishingshe could efface herself. 

And as she looked out on the sea from her narrow window, it seemed toher dismally gray, moaning, restless, and dreary. 

CHAPTER X--COLD WELCOME

Seek not for others to love you, But seek yourself to love them best, And you shall find the secret true, Of love and joy and rest. 

I. WILLIAMS. 

To lack beauty was a much more serious misfortune in the Middle Agesthan at present. Of course it was probable that there might be acontract of marriage made entirely irrespective of attractiveness, long before the development of either of the principal partiesconcerned; but even then the rude, open-spoken husband would considerhimself absolved from any attention to an ill-favoured wife, and thefree tongues of her surroundings would not be slack to make her awareof her defects. The cloister was the refuge of the unmarried woman, if of gentle birth as a nun, if of a lower grade as a lay-sister; butthe fifteenth century was an age neither of religion nor of chivalry. Dowers were more thought of than devotion in convents as elsewhere. Whitby being one of the oldest and grandest foundations was sure tobe inaccessible to a high-born but unportioned girl, and Grisell inher sense of loneliness saw nothing before her but to become ananchoress, that is to say, a female hermit, such as generally livedin strict seclusion under shelter of the Church. 

"There at least, " thought poor Grisell, "there would be none to stingme to the heart with those jeering eyes of theirs. And I might feelin time that God and His Saints loved me, and not long for my fatherand mother, and oh! my poor little brother--yes, and LeonardCopeland, and Sister Avice, and the rest. But would Sister Avicecall this devotion? Nay, would she not say that these cruel eyes andwords are a cross upon me, and I must bear them and love in spite--atleast till I be old enough to choose for myself?"

She was summoned to supper, and this increased the sense ofdreariness, for Bernard screamed that the grisly one should not comenear him, or he would not eat, and she had to take her meal of driedfish and barley bread in the wide chimney corner, where there alwayswas a fire at every season of the year. 

Her chamber, which Cuthbert Ridley's exertions had compelled thewomen to prepare for her, was--as seen in the light of the longevening--a desolate place, within a turret, opening from the solar, or chamber of her parents and Bernard, the loophole window devoid ofglass, though a shutter could be closed in bad weather, the wallscircular and of rough, untouched, unconcealed stone, a pallet bed--the only attempt at furniture, except one chest--and Grisell's ownmails tumbled down anyhow, and all pervaded by an ancient and fishysmell. She felt too downhearted even to creep out and ask for apitcher of water. She took a long look over the gray, heaving sea, and tired as she was, it was long before she could pray and cryherself to sleep, and accustomed as she was to convent beds, this oneappeared to be stuffed with raw apples, and she awoke with achingbones. 

Her request for a pitcher or pail of water was treated as southlandfinery, for those who washed at all used the horse trough, butfortunately for her Cuthbert Ridley heard the request. He had beenenough in the south in attendance on his master to know how youngdamsels lived, and what treatment they met with, and he was soonrating the women in no measured terms for the disrespect they hadpresumed to show to the Lady Grisell, encouraged by the neglect ofher parents

The Lord of Whitburn, appearing on the scene at the moment, backed uphis retainer, and made it plain that he intended his daughter to berespected and obeyed, and the grumbling women had to submit. Nor didhe refuse to acknowledge, on Ridley's representation, that Grisellought to have an attendant of her own, and the lady of the castle, coming down with Bernard clinging to her skirt with one hand, andleaning on his crutch, consented. "If the maid was to be here, shemust be treated fitly, and Bell and Madge had enough to do withoutconvent-bred fancies. "

So Cuthbert descended the steep path to the ravine where dwelt thefisher folk, and came back with a girl barefooted, bareheaded, withlong, streaming, lint-white locks, and the scantiest of garments, crying bitterly with fright, and almost struggling to go back. Shewas the orphan remnant of a family drowned in the bay, and was aburthen on her fisher kindred, who were rejoiced thus to dispose ofher. 

She sobbed the more at sight of the grisly lady, and almost screamedwhen Grisell smiled and tried to take her by the hand. Ridley fairlydrove her upstairs, step by step, and then shut her in with his younglady, when she sank on the floor and hid her face under all herbleached hair. 

"Poor little thing, " thought Grisell; "it is like having a fresh-caught sea-gull. She is as forlorn as I am, and more afraid!"

So she began to speak gently and coaxingly, begging the girl to lookup, and assuring her that she would not be hurt. Grisell had a verysoft and persuasive voice. Her chief misfortune as regarded herappearance was that the muscles of one cheek had been so drawn thatthough she smiled sweetly with one side of her face, the other wascontracted and went awry, so that when the kind tones had made thegirl look up for a moment, the next she cried, "O don't--don't! HolyMary, forbid the spell!"

"I have no spells, my poor maid; indeed I am only a poor girl, astranger here in my own home. Come, and do not fear me. "

"Madge said you had witches' marks on your face, " sobbed the child. 

"Only the marks of gunpowder, " said Grisell. "Listen, I will tellthee what befell me. "

Gunpowder seemed to be quite beyond all experience of Whitburnnature, but the history of the catastrophe gained attention, and thegirl's terror abated, so that Grisell could ask her name, which wasThora, and learning, too, that she had led a hard life since hergranny died, and her uncle's wife beat her, and made her carry heavyloads of seaweed when it froze her hands, besides a hundred othertroubles. As to knowing any kind of feminine art, she was asignorant as if the rough and extremely dirty woollen garment shewore, belted round with a strip of leather, had grown upon her, andthough Grisell's own stock of garments was not extensive, she wasobliged, for very shame, to dress this strange attendant in what shecould best spare, as well as, in spite of sobs and screams, to washher face, hands, and feet, and it was wonderful how great adifference this made in the wild creature by the time the clang ofthe castle bell summoned all to the midday meal, when as before, Bernard professed not to be able to look at his sister, but when shehad retreated he was seen spying at her through his fingers, withgreat curiosity. 

Afterwards she went up to her mother to beg for a few necessaries forherself and for her maid, and to offer to do some spinning. She wasnot very graciously answered; but she was allowed an old frayedhorse-cloth on which Thora might sleep, and for the rest she mightsee what she could find under the stairs in the turret, or in thechest in the hall window. 

The broken, dilapidated fragments which seemed to Grisell mererubbish were treasures and wonders to Thora, and out of them shepicked enough to render her dreary chamber a very few degrees morehabitable. Thora would sleep there, and certainly their relationswere reversed, for carrying water was almost the only office sheperformed at first, since Grisell had to dress her, and teach her tokeep herself in a tolerable state of neatness, and likewise how tospin, luring her with the hope of spinning yarn for a new dress forherself. As to prayers, her mind was a mere blank, though she saidsomething that sounded like a spell except that it began with"Pater. " She did not know who made her, and entirely believed inNiord and Rana, the storm-gods of Norseland. Yet she had always beento mass every Sunday morning. So went all the family at the castleas a matter of course, but except when the sacring-bell hushed them, the Baron freely discussed crops or fish with the tenants, and thelady wrangled about dues of lambs, eggs, and fish. Grisell'sattention was a new thing, and the priest's pronunciation was sodefective to her ear that she could hardly follow. 

That first week Grisell had plenty of occupation in settling her roomand training her uncouth maid, who proved a much more apt scholarthan she had expected, and became devoted to her like a littlefaithful dog. 

No one else took much notice of either, except that at times CuthbertRidley showed himself to be willing to stand up for her. Her fatherwas out a great deal, hunting or hawking or holding consultationswith neighbouring knights or the men of Sunderland. Her mother, withthe loudest and most peremptory of voices, ruled over the castle, ordered the men on their guards and at the stables, and the cook, scullions, and other servants, but without much good effect ashousehold affairs were concerned, for the meals were as far removedfrom the delicate, dainty serving of the simplest fast-day meal atWilton as from the sumptuous plenty and variety of Warwick house, andBernard often cried and could not eat. She longed to make up for himone of the many appetising possets well known at Wilton, but hermother and Ralf the cook both scouted her first proposal. Theywanted no south-bred meddlers over their fire. 

However, one evening when Bernard had been fretful and in pain, theBaron had growled out that the child was cockered beyond all bearing, and the mother had flown out at the unnatural father, and on his halflaughing at her doting ways, had actually rushed across with clenchedfist to box his ears; he had muttered that the pining brat andshrewish dame made the house no place for him, and wandered out tothe society of his horses. Lady Whitburn, after exhaling her wrathin abuse of him and all around, carried the child up to his bed. There he was moaning, and she trying to soothe him, when, darknesshaving put a stop to Grisell's spinning, she went to her chamber withThora. In passing, the moaning was still heard, and she even thoughther mother was crying. She ventured to approach and ask, "Fares heno better? If I might rub that poor leg. "

But Bernard peevishly hid his face and whined, "Go away, Grisly, " andher mother exclaimed, "Away with you, I have enough to vex me herewithout you. "

She could only retire as fast as possible, and her tears ran down herface as in the long summer twilight she recited the evening offices, the same in which Sister Avice was joining in Wilton chapel. Beforethey were over she heard her father come up to bed, and in a harshand angered voice bid Bernard to be still. There was stillness forsome little time, but by and by the moaning and sobbing began again, and there was a jangling between the gruff voice and the shrill one, now thinner and weaker. Grisell felt that she must try again, andcrept out. "If I might rub him a little while, and you rest, LadyMother. He cannot see me now. "

She prevailed, or rather the poor mother's utter weariness anddejection did, together with the father's growl, "Let her bring uspeace if she can. "

Lady Whitburn let her kneel down by the bed, and guided her hand tothe aching thigh. 

"Soft! Soft! Good! Good!" muttered Bernard presently. "Go on!"

Grisell had acquired something of that strange almost magical touchof Sister Avice, and Bernard lay still under her hand. Her mother, who was quite worn out, moved to her own bed, and fell asleep, whilethe snores of the Baron proclaimed him to have been long appeased. The boy, too, presently was breathing softly, and Grisell's attituderelaxed, as her prayers and her dreams mingled together, and by andby, what she thought was the organ in Wilton chapel, and the light ofSt. Edith's taper, proved to be the musical rush of the incomingtide, and the golden sunrise over the sea, while all lay sound asleeparound her, and she ventured gently to withdraw into her own room. 

That night was Grisell's victory, though Bernard still held alooffrom her all the ensuing day, when he was really the better andfresher for his long sleep, but at bed-time, when as usual the paincame on, he wailed for her to rub him, and as it was still daylight, and her father had gone out in one of the boats to fish, she venturedon singing to him, as she rubbed, to his great delight and stillgreater boon to her yearning heart. Even by day, as she sat at work, the little fellow limped up to her, and said, "Grisly, sing thatagain, " staring hard in her face as she did so. 

CHAPTER XI--BERNARD

I do remember an apothecary, -And hereabouts he dwells. 

SHAKESPEARE, Romeo and Juliet. 

Bernard's affection was as strong as his aversion had been. Poorlittle boy, no one had been accustomed enough to sickly children, orindeed to children at all, to know how to make him happy or evencomfortable, and his life had been sad and suffering ever since theblight that had fallen on him, through either the evil eye of Nan thewitch, or through his fall into a freezing stream. His brother, agreat strong lad, had teased and bullied him; his father, though notactually unkind except when wearied by his fretfulness, held him as amiserable failure, scarcely worth rearing; his mother, though herpride was in her elder son, and the only softness in her heart forthe little one, had been so rugged and violent a woman all the yearsof her life, and had so despised all gentler habits of civilisation, that she really did not know how to be tender to the child who wasreally her darling. Her infants had been nursed in the cottages, andnot returned to the castle till they were old enough to rough it--indeed they were soon sent off to be bred up elsewhere. Some failurein health, too, made it harder for her to be patient with an ailingchild, and her love was apt to take the form of anger with hispetulance or even with his suffering, or else of fierce battles withher husband in his defence. 

The comfort would have been in burning Crooked Nan, but that beldamehad disposed of herself out of reach, though Lady Whitburn stillcherished the hope of forcing the Gilsland Dacres or the Percies toyield the woman up. Failing this, the boy had been shown to atravelling friar, who had promised cure through the relics he carriedabout; but Bernard had only screamed at him, and had been none thebetter. 

And now the little fellow had got over the first shock, he found that"Grisly, " as he still called her, but only as an affectionateabbreviation, was the only person who could relieve his pain, oramuse him, in the whole castle; and he was incessantly hanging onher. She must put him to bed and sing lullabies to him, she must rubhis limbs when they ached with rheumatic pains; hers was the onlyhand which might touch the sores that continually broke out, and hewould sit for long spaces on her lap, sometimes stroking down thescar and pitying it with "Poor Grisly; when I am a man, I will throwdown my glove, and fight with that lad, and kill him. "

"O nay, nay, Bernard; he never meant to do me evil. He is a fair, brave, good boy. "

"He scorned and ran away from you. He is mansworn and recreant, "persisted Bernard. "Rob and I will make him say that you are thefairest of ladies. "

"O nay, nay. That he could not. "

"But you are, you are--on this side--mine own Grisly, " cried Bernard, whose experiences of fair ladies had not been extensive, and whocurled himself on her lap, giving unspeakable rest and joy to herweary, yearning spirit, as she pressed him to her breast. "Now, astory, a story, " he entreated, and she was rich in tales fromScripture history and legends of the Saints, or she would sing hersweet monastic hymns and chants, as he nestled in her lap. 

The mother had fits of jealousy at the exclusive preference, and nowand then would rail at Grisell for cosseting the bairn and keepinghim a helpless baby; or at Bernard for leaving his mother for thisill-favoured, useless sister, and would even snatch away the boy, anddeclare that she wanted no one to deal with him save herself; butBernard had a will of his own, and screamed for his Grisly, throwinghimself about in such a manner that Lady Whitburn was forced tosubmit, and quite to the alarm of her daughter, on one of theseoccasions she actually burst into a flood of tears, sobbing loud andwithout restraint. Indeed, though she hotly declared that she ailednothing, there was a lassitude about her that made it a relief tohave the care of Bernard taken off her hands; and the Baron'sgrumbling at disturbed nights made the removal of Bernard's bed tohis sister's room generally acceptable. 

Once, when Grisell was found to have taught both him and Thora theEnglish version of the Lord's Prayer and Creed, and moreover to betelling him the story of the Gospel, there came, no one knew fromwhere, an accusation which made her father tramp up and say, "Markyou, wench, I'll have no Lollards here. "

"Lollards, sir; I never saw a Lollard!" said Grisell trembling. 

"Where, then, didst learn all this, making holy things common?"

"We all learnt it at Wilton, sir, from the reverend mothers and theholy father. "

The Baron was fairly satisfied, and muttered that if the bairn wasfit only for a shaveling, it might be all right. 

Poor child, would he ever be fit for that or any occupation ofmanhood? However, Grisell had won permission to compound broths, cakes, and possets for him, over the hall fire, for the cook and hiswife would not endure her approach to their domain, and with greatreluctance allowed her the materials. Bernard watched her operationswith intense delight and amusement, and tasted with a sense oftriumph and appetite, calling on his mother to taste likewise; andshe, on whose palate semi-raw or over-roasted joints had begun topall, allowed that the nuns had taught Grisell something. 

And thus as time went on Grisell led no unhappy life. Every onearound was used to her scars, and took no notice of them, and therewas nothing to bring the thought before her, except now and then whena fishwife's baby, brought to her for cure, would scream at her. Shenever went beyond the castle except to mass, now and then to visit asick person, and to seek some of the herbs of which she had learntthe use, and then she was always attended by Thora and Ridley, whomade a great favour of going. 

Bernard had given her the greater part of his heart, and she soothedhis pain, made his hours happy, and taught him the knowledge shebrought from the convent. Her affections were with him, and thoughher mother could scarcely be said to love her, she tolerated anddepended more and more on the daughter who alone could give her morehelp or solace. 

That was Grisell's second victory, when she was actually asked tocompound a warm, relishing, hot bowl for her father when be wascaught in a storm and came in drenched and weary. 

She wanted to try on her little brother the effect of one of SisterAvice's ointments, which she thought more likely to be efficaciousthan melted mutton fat, mixed with pounded worms, scrapings from thechurch bells, and boiled seaweed, but some of her ingredients wereout of reach, unless they were attainable at Sunderland, and sheobtained permission to ride thither under the escort of CuthbertRidley, and was provided with a small purse--the proceeds of theBaron's dues out of the fishermen's sales of herrings. 

She was also to purchase a warm gown and mantle for her mother, andenough of cloth to afford winter garments for Bernard; and a steadyold pack-horse carried the bundles of yarn to be exchanged for thesecommodities, since the Whitburn household possessed no memberdexterous with the old disused loom, and the itinerant weavers didnot come that way--it was whispered because they were afraid of thefisher folk, and got but sorry cheer from the lady. 

The commissions were important, and Grisell enjoyed the two miles'ride along the cliffs of Roker Bay, looking up at the curious cavernsin the rock, and seeking for the very strangely-formed stonessupposed to have magic power, which fell from the rock. In thedistance beyond the river to the southward, Ridley pointed to thetall square tower of Monks Wearmouth Church dominating the greatmonastery around it, which had once held the venerable Bede, thoughto both Ridley and Grisell he was only a name of a patron saint. 

The harbour formed by the mouth of the river Wear was a marvel toGrisell, crowded as it was with low, squarely-rigged and gaily-coloured vessels of Holland, Friesland, and Flanders, very new sightsto one best acquainted with Noah's ark or St. Peter's ship inilluminations. 

"Sunderland is a noted place for shipbuilding, " said Ridley. "Moreover, these come for wool, salt-fish, and our earth coal, andthey bring us fine cloth, linen, and stout armour. I am glad to seeyonder Flemish ensign. If luck goes well with us, I shall get afresh pair of gauntlets for my lord, straight from Gaunt, the placeof gloves. "

"GANT for glove, " said Grisell. 

"How? You speak French. Then you may aid me in chaffering, and Iwill straight to the Fleming, with whom I may do better than withHodge of the Lamb. How now, here's a shower coming up fast!"

It was so indeed; a heavy cloud had risen quickly, and was alreadybursting overhead. Ridley hurried on, along a thoroughfare acrosssalt marshes (nowdocks), but the speed was not enough to preventtheir being drenched by a torrent of rain and hail before theyreached the tall-timbered houses of Wearmouth. 

"In good time!" cried Ridley; "here's the Poticary's sign! You hadbest halt here at once. "

In front of a high-roofed house with a projecting upper story, hung asign bearing a green serpent on a red ground, over a stall, open tothe street, which the owner was sheltering with a deep canvas awning. 

"Hola, Master Lambert Groats, " called Ridley. "Here's the youngdemoiselle of Whitburn would have some dealings with you. "

Jumping off his horse, he helped Grisell to dismount just as a small, keen-faced, elderly man in dark gown came forward, doffing his greenvelvet cap, and hoping the young lady would take shelter in his poorhouse. 

Grisell, glancing round the little booth, was aware of sundrymarvellous curiosities hanging round, such as a dried crocodile, theshells of tortoises, of sea-urchins and crabs, all to her eyes moststrange and weird; but Master Lambert was begging her to hasten in atonce to his dwelling-room beyond, and let his wife dry her clothes, and at once there came forward a plump, smooth, pleasant-lookingpersonage, greatly his junior, dressed in a tight gold-edged cap overher fair hair, a dark skirt, black bodice, bright apron, and whitesleeves, curtseying low, but making signs to invite the newcomers tothe fire on the hearth. "My housewife is stone deaf, " explainedtheir host, "and she knows no tongue save her own, and the unspokenlanguage of courtesy, but she is rejoiced to welcome the demoiselle. Ah, she is drenched! Ah, if she will honour my poor house!"

The wife curtsied low, and by hospitable signs prayed the demoiselleto come to the fire, and take off her wet mantle. It was a verycomfortable room, with a wide chimney, and deep windows glazed withthick circles of glass, the spaces between leaded around in diamondpanes, through which vine branches could dimly be seen flapping andbeating in the storm. A table stood under one with various glassesand vessels of curious shapes, and a big book, and at the other was adistaff, a work-basket, and other feminine gear. Shelves with pewterdishes, and red, yellow, and striped crocks, surrounded the walls;there was a savoury cauldron on the open fire. It was evidentlysitting-room and kitchen in one, with offices beyond, and Grisell wasat once installed in a fine carved chair by the fire--a morecomfortable seat than had ever fallen to her share. 

"Look you here, mistress, " said Ridley; "you are in safe quartershere, and I will leave you awhile, take the horses to the hostel, anddo mine errands across the river--'tis not fit for you--and come backto you when the shower is over, and you can come and chaffer for yourwoman's gear. "

From the two good hosts the welcome was decided, and Grisell was gladto have time for consultation. An Apothecary of those days did notrise to the dignity of a leech, but was more like the present ownerof a chemist's shop, though a chemist then meant something much moreabstruse, who studied occult sciences, such as alchemy and astrology. 

In fact, Lambert Groot, which was his real name, though English lipshad made it Groats, belonged to one of the prosperous guilds of thegreat merchant city of Bruges, but he had offended his family by hisdetermination to marry the deaf, and almost dumb, portionless orphandaughter of an old friend and contemporary, and to save her from thescorn and slights of his relatives--though she was quite as well-bornas themselves--he had migrated to England, where Wearmouth andSunderland had a brisk trade with the Low Countries. These citiesenjoyed the cultivation of the period, and this room, daintily cleanand fresh, seemed to Grisell more luxurious than any she had seensince the Countess of Warwick's. A silver bowl of warm soup, extracted from the pot au feu, was served to her by the Hausfrau, ona little table, spread with a fine white cloth edged with embroidery, with an earnest gesture begging her to partake, and a slender Veniceglass of wine was brought to her with a cake of wheaten bread. Muchdid Grisell wish she could have transferred such refreshing fare toBernard. She ventured to ask "Master Poticary" whether he sold"Balsam of Egypt. " He was interested at once, and asked whether itwere for her own use. 

"Nay, good master, you are thinking of my face; but that was a burnlong ago healed. It is for my poor little brother. "

Therewith Grisell and Master Groats entered on a discussions ofsymptoms, drugs, ointments, and ingredients, in which she learnt agood deal and perhaps disclosed more of Sister Avice's methods thanWilton might have approved. In the midst the sun broke out gailyafter the shower, and disclosed, beyond the window, a garden whereevery leaf and spray were glittering and glorious with their owndiamond drops in the sunshine. A garden of herbs was a needful partof an apothecary's business, as he manufactured for himself all ofthe medicaments which he did not import from foreign parts, but thishad been laid out between its high walls with all the care, taste, and precision of the Netherlander, and Grisell exclaimed in perfectecstasy: "Oh, the garden, the garden! I have seen nothing so fairand sweet since I left Wilton. "

Master Lambert was delighted, and led her out. There is nodescribing how refreshing was the sight to eyes after the bare, drywalls of the castle, and the tossing sea which the maiden had not yetlearnt to love. Nor was the garden dull, though meant for use. There was a well in the centre with roses trained over it, roses ofthe dark old damask kind and the dainty musk, used to be distilledfor the eyes, some flowers lingering still; there was the browndittany or fraxinella, whose dried blossoms are phosphoric at night;delicate pink centaury, good for ague; purple mallows, good forwounds; leopard's bane with yellow blossoms; many and many more oldand dear friends of Grisell, redolent of Wilton cloister and SisterAvice; and she ran from one to the other quite transported, andforgetful of all the dignities of the young Lady of Whitburn, whileLambert was delighted, and hoped she would come again when his lilieswere in bloom. 

So went the time till Ridley returned, and when the price was askedof the packet of medicaments prepared for her, Lambert answered thatthe value was fully balanced by what he had learnt from the lady. This, however, did not suit the honour of the Dacres, and Grisell, aswell as her squire, who looked offended, insisted on leaving two goldcrowns in payment. The Vrow kissed her hand, putting into it thelast sprays of roses, which Grisell cherished in her bosom. 

She was then conducted to a booth kept by a Dutchman, where sheobtained the warm winter garments that she needed for her mother andbrother, and likewise some linen, for the Lady of Whitburn had neverbeen housewife enough to keep up a sufficient supply for Bernard, andGrisell was convinced that the cleanliness which the nuns had taughther would mitigate his troubles. With Thora to wash for her shehoped to institute a new order of things. 

Much pleased with her achievements she rode home. She was met thereby more grumbling than satisfaction. Her father had expected morecoin to send to Robert, who, like other absent youths, called forsupplies. 

The yeoman who had gone with him returned, bearing a scrap of paperwith the words:-

"MINE HONOURED LORD AND FATHER--I pray you to send me Black Lightningand xvj crowns by the hand of Ralf, and so the Saints have you intheir keeping. --Your dutiful sonne, "ROBERT DACRE. "

xvj crowns were a heavy sum in those days, and Lord Whitburn vowedthat he had never so called on his father except when he wasknighted, but those were the good old days when spoil was to be wonin France. What could Rob want of such a sum?

"Well-a-day, sir, the house of the Duke of York is no place to stintin. The two young Earls of March and of Rutland, as they call them, walk in red and blue and gold bravery, and chains of jewels, evenlike king's sons, and none of the squires and pages can be behindthem. "

"Black Lightning too, my best colt, when I deemed the lad fitted outfor years to come. I never sent home the like message to my fatherunder the last good King Henry, but purveyed myself of a horse on thebattlefield more than once. But those good old days are over, andlads think more of velvet and broidery than of lances and swords. Forsooth, their coats-of-arms are good to wear on silk robes insteadof helm and shield; and as to our maids, give them their rein, andthey spend more than all the rest on women's tawdry gear!"

Poor Grisell! when she had bought nothing ornamental, and nothing forherself except a few needles. 

However, in spite of murmurs, the xvj crowns were raised and sentaway with Black Lightning; and as time went on Grisell became moreand more a needful person. Bernard was stronger, and even rode outon a pony, and the fame of his improvement brought other patients tothe Lady Grisell from the vassals, with whom she dealt as best shemight, successfully or the reverse, while her mother, as her healthfailed, let fall more and more the reins of household rule. 

CHAPTER XII--WORD FROM THE WARS

Above, below, the Rose of Snow, Twined with her blushing face we spread. 

GRAY'S Bard. 

News did not travel very fast to Whitburn, but one summer's day atall, gallant, fair-faced esquire, in full armour of the cumbrousplate fashion, rode up to the gate, and blew the family note on hisbugle. 

"My son! my son Rob, " cried the lady, starting up from the cushionswith which Grisell had furnished her settle. 

Robert it was, who came clanking in, met by his father at the gate, by his mother at the door, and by Bernard on his crutch in the rear, while Grisell, who had never seen this brother, hung back. 

The youth bent his knee, but his outward courtesy did not conceal agood deal of contempt for the rude northern habits. "How small anddark the hall is! My lady, how old you have grown! What, Bernard, still fit only for a shaven friar! Not shorn yet, eh? Ha! is thatGrisell? St. Cuthbert to wit! Copeland has made a hag of her!"

"'Tis a good maid none the less, " replied her father; the firstdirect praise that she had ever had from him, and which made herheart glow. 

"She will ne'er get a husband, with such a visage as that, " observedRobert, who did not seem to have learnt courtesy or forbearance yeton his travels; but he was soon telling his father what concernedthem far more than the maiden's fate. 

"Sir, I have come on the part of the Duke of York to summon you. What, you have not heard? He needs, as speedily as may be, the armsof every honest man. How many can you get together?"

"But what is it? How is it? Your Duke ruled the roast last time Iheard of him. "

"You know as little as my horse here in the north!" cried Rob. 

"This I did hear last time there was a boat come in, that the Queen, that mother of mischief, had tried to lay hands on our Lord ofSalisbury, and that he and your Duke of York had soundly beaten herand the men of Cheshire. "

"Yea, at Blore Heath; and I thought to win my spurs on the Copelandbanner, but even as I was making my way to it and the recreant thatbore it, I was stricken across my steel cap and dazed. "

"I'll warrant it, " muttered his father. 

"When I could look up again all was changed, the banner nowhere insight, but I kept my saddle, and cut down half a dozen rascailleafter that. "

"Ha!" half incredulously, for it was a mere boy who boasted. "That'smy brave lad! And what then? More hopes of the spurs, eh?"

"Then what does the Queen do, but seeing that no one would willinglystir a lance against an old witless saint like King Harry, she gets ahost together, dragging the poor man hither and thither with her, atLudlow. Nay, we even heard the King was dead, and a mass was saidfor the repose of his soul, but with the morning what should we seeon the other side of the river Teme but the royal standard, and whoshould be under it but King Harry himself with his meek face and fairlocks, twirling his fingers after his wont. So the men would have itthat they had been gulled, and they fell away one after another, tillthere was nothing for it but for the Duke and his sons, and my Lordsof Salisbury and Warwick and a few score more of us, to ride off asbest we might, with Sir Andrew Trollope and his men after us, as hardas might be, so that we had to break up, and keep few together. Iwent with the Duke of York and young Lord Edmund into Wales, andthence in a bit of a fishing-boat across to Ireland. Ask me to fightin full field with twice the numbers, but never ask me to put to seaagain! There's nothing like it for taking heart and soul out of aman!"

"I have crossed the sea often enow in the good old days, and knownnothing worse than a qualm or two. "

"That was to France, " said his son. "This Irish Sea is far wider andfar more tossing, I know for my own part. I'd have given a knight'sfee to any one who would have thrown me overboard. I felt like anempty bag! But once there, they could not make enough of us. TheDuke had got their hearts before, and odd sort of hearts they are. Iwas deaf with the wild kernes shouting round about in theirgibberish--such figures, too, as they are, with their blue cloaks, streaming hair, and long glibbes (moustaches), and the Lords of thePale, as they call the English sort, are nigh about as wild andsavage as the mere Irish. It was as much as my Lord Duke could do tohinder two of them from coming to blows in his presence; and youshould have heard them howl at one another. However, they are allwith him, and a mighty force of them mean to go back with him toEngland. My Lord of Warwick came from Calais to hold counsel withhim, and they have sworn to one another to meet with all theirforces, and require the removal of the King's evil councillors; andmy Lord Duke, with his own mouth, bade me go and summon his trustyWill Dacre of Whitburn--so he spake, sir--to be with him with all thespears and bowmen you can raise or call for among the neighbours. And it is my belief, sir, that he means not to stop at thecouncillors, but to put forth his rights. Hurrah for King Richard ofthe White Rose!" ended Robert, throwing up his cap. 

"Nay, now, " said his father. "I'd be loth to put down our gallantKing Harry's only son. "

"No one breathes a word against King Harry, " returned Robert, "nomore than against a carven saint in a church, and he is about as muchof a king as old stone King Edmund, or King Oswald, or whoever he is, over the porch. He is welcome to reign as long as he likes or lives, provided he lets our Duke govern for him, and rids the country of theforeign woman and her brat, who is no more hers than I am, but a merebabe of Westminster town carried into the palace when the poor KingHarry was beside himself. "

"Nay, now, Rob!" cried his mother. 

"So 'tis said!" sturdily persisted Rob. "'Tis well known that theKing never looked at him the first time he was shown the little imp, and next time, when he was not so distraught, he lifted up his handsand said he wotted nought of the matter. Hap what hap, King Harrymay roam from Church to shrine, from Abbey to chantry, so long as helists, but none of us will brook to be ruled or misruled by theforeign woman and the Beauforts in his name, nor reigned over by theFrench dame or the beggar's brat, and the traitor coward Beaufort, but be under our own noble Duke and the White Rose, the only badgethat makes the Frenchman flee. "

The boy was scarcely fifteen, but his political tone, as of one whoknew the world, made his father laugh and say, "Hark to the cockerelcrowing loud. Spurs forsooth!"

"The Lords Edward and Edmund are knighted, " grunted Rob, "and there'sbut few years betwixt us. "

"But a good many earldoms and lands, " said the Baron. "Hadst spokenof being out of pagedom, 'twere another thing. "

"You are coming, sir, " cried Rob, willing to put by the subject. "You are coming to see how I can win honours. "

"Aye, aye, " said his father. "When Nevil calls, then must Dacrecome, though his old bones might well be at rest now. Salisbury andWarwick taking to flight like attainted traitors to please theforeign woman, saidst thou? Then it is the time men were in thesaddle. "

"Well I knew you would say so, and so I told my lord, " exclaimedRobert. 

"Thou didst, quotha? Without doubt the Duke was greatly reassured bythy testimony, " said his father drily, while the mother, full ofpride and exultation in her goodly firstborn son, could not butexclaim, "Daunt him not, my lord; he has done well thus to be senthome in charge. "

"_I_ daunt him?" returned Lord Whitburn, in his teasing mood. "Byhis own showing not a troop of Somerset's best horsemen could dothat!"

Therewith more amicably, father and son fell to calculations ofresources, which they kept up all through supper-time, and all theevening, till the names of Hobs, Wills, Dicks, and the like rang likea repeating echo in Grisell's ears. All through those long days ofsummer the father and son were out incessantly, riding from onetenant or neighbour to another, trying to raise men-at-arms and meansto equip them if raised. All the dues on the herring-boats and thetwo whalers, on which Grisell had reckoned for the winter needs, werepledged to Sunderland merchants for armour and weapons; the coltsrunning wild on the moors were hastily caught, and reduced to a kindof order by rough breaking in. The women of the castle and othersrequisitioned from the village toiled under the superintendence ofthe lady and Grisell at preparing such provision and equipments aswere portable, such as dried fish, salted meat, and barley cakes, aswell as linen, and there was a good deal of tailoring of a rough sortat jerkins, buff coats, and sword belts, not by any means the gentlework of embroidering pennons or scarves notable in romance. 

"Besides, " scoffed Robert, "who would wear Grisly Grisell's scarf!"

"I would, " manfully shouted Bernard; "I would cram it down the throatof that recreant Copeland. "

"Oh! hush, hush, Bernard, " exclaimed Grisell, who was toiling withaching fingers at the repairs of her father's greasy old buff coat. "Such things are, as Robin well says, for noble demoiselles with fairfaces and leisure times like the Lady Margaret. And oh, Robin, youhave never told me of the Lady Margaret, my dear mate at Amesbury. "

"What should I know of your Lady Margarets and such gear, " growledRobin, whose chivalry had not reached the point of caring for ladies. 

"The Lady Margaret Plantagenet, the young Lady Margaret of York, "Grisell explained. 

"Oh! That's what you mean is it? There's a whole troop of wenchesat the high table in hall. They came after us with the Duchess assoon as we were settled in Trim Castle, but they are kept as demureand mim as may be in my lady's bower; and there's a pretty sharp eyekept on them. Some of the young squires who are fools enough tohanker after a few maids or look at the fairer ones get their noseswellnigh pinched off by Proud Cis's Mother of the Maids. "

"Then it would not avail to send poor Grisell's greetings by you. "

"I should like to see myself delivering them! Besides, we shall meetmy lord in camp, with no cumbrance of woman gear. "

Lord Whitburn's own castle was somewhat of a perplexity to him, forthough his lady had once been quite sufficient captain for his scantygarrison, she was in too uncertain health, and what was worse, toomuch broken in spirit and courage, to be fit for the charge. Hetherefore decided on leaving Cuthbert Ridley, who, in winter atleast, was scarcely as capable of roughing it as of old, to protectthe castle, with a few old or partly disabled men, who could man thewalls to some degree, therefore it was unlikely that there would beany attack. 

So on a May morning the old, weather-beaten Dacre pennon with itsthree crusading scallop-shells, was uplifted in the court, and roundit mustered about thirty men, of whom eighteen had been raised by thebaron, some being his own vassals, and others hired at Sunderland. The rest were volunteers--gentlemen, their younger sons, and theirattendants--placing themselves under his leadership, either fromgoodwill to York and Nevil, or from love of enterprise and hope ofplunder. 

CHAPTER XIII--A KNOT

I would mine heart had caught that wound And slept beside him rather!I think it were a better thingThan murdered friend and marriage-ring Forced on my life together. 

E. B. BROWNING, The Romaunt of the Page. 

Ladies were accustomed to live for weeks, months, nay, years, withoutnews of those whom they had sent to the wars, and to live their lifewithout them. The Lady of Whitburn did not expect to see her husbandor son again till the summer campaign was over, and she was not atall uneasy about them, for the full armour of a gentleman had arrivedat such a pitch of perfection that it was exceedingly difficult tokill him, and such was the weight, that his danger in beingoverthrown was of never being able to get up, but lying there to besmothered, made prisoner, or killed, by breaking into his armour. The knights could not have moved at all under the weight if they hadnot been trained from infancy, and had nearly reduced themselves tothe condition of great tortoises. 

It was no small surprise when, very late on a July evening, when, though twilight still prevailed, all save the warder were in bed, andhe was asleep on his post, a bugle-horn rang out the master's note, at first in the usual tones, then more loudly and impatiently. Hastening out of bed to her loophole window, Grisell saw a partybeneath the walls, her father's scallop-shells dimly seen above them, and a little in the rear, one who was evidently a prisoner. 

The blasts grew fiercer, the warder and the castle were beginning tobe astir, and when Grisell hurried into the outer room, she found hermother afoot and hastily dressing. 

"My lord! my lord! it is his note, " she cried. 

"Father come home!" shouted Bernard, just awake. "Grisly! Grisly!help me don my clothes. "

Lady Whitburn trembled and shook with haste, and Grisell could nothelp her very rapidly in the dark, with Bernard howling rather thancalling for help all the time; and before she, still less Grisell, was fit for the public, her father's heavy step was on the stairs, and she heard fragments of his words. 

"All abed! We must have supper--ridden from Ayton since lastbaiting. Aye, got a prisoner--young Copeland--old one slain--greatvictory--Northampton. King taken--Buckingham and Egremont killed--Rob well--proud as a pyet. Ho, Grisell, " as she appeared, "bestirthyself. We be ready to eat a horse behind the saddle. Serve up asfast as may be. "

Grisell durst not stop to ask whether she had heard the word Copelandaright, and ran downstairs with a throbbing heart, just crossing thehall, where she thought she saw a figure bowed down, with hands overhis face and elbows on his knees, but she could not pause, and wenton to the kitchen, where the peat fire was never allowed to expire, and it was easy to stir it into heat. Whatever was cold she handedover to the servants to appease the hunger of the arrivals, while shebroiled steaks, and heated the great perennial cauldron of broth withall the expedition in her power, with the help of Thora and thegrumbling cook, when he appeared, angry at being disturbed. 

Morning light was beginning to break before her toils were over forthe dozen hungry men pounced so suddenly in on her, and when sheagain crossed the hall, most of them were lying on the straw-bestrewnfloor fast asleep. One she specially noticed, his long limbsstretched out as he lay on his side, his head on his arm, as if hehad fallen asleep from extreme fatigue in spite of himself. 

His light brown hair was short and curly, his cheeks fair and ruddy, and all reminded her of Leonard Copeland as he had been those longyears ago before her accident. Save for that, she would have beenlong ago his wife, she with her marred face the mate of that noblyfair countenance. How strange to remember. How she would have lovedhim, frank and often kind as she remembered him, though rough andimpatient of restraint. What was that which his fingers had heldtill sleep had unclasped them? An ivory chessrook! Such was afavourite token of ladies to their true loves. What did it mean?Might she pause to pray a prayer over him as once hers--that allmight be well with him, for she knew that in this unhappy warimportant captives were not treated as Frenchmen would have been asprisoners of war, but executed as traitors to their King. 

She paused over him till a low sound and the bright eyes of one ofthe dogs warned her that all might in another moment be awake, andshe fled up the stair to the solar, where her parents were both fastasleep, and across to her own room, where she threw herself on herbed, dressed as she was, but could not sleep for the multitude ofstrange thoughts that crowded over her in the increasing daylight. 

By and by there was a stir, some words passed in the outer room, andthen her mother came in. 

"Wake, Grisly. Busk and bonne for thy wedding-morning instantly. Copeland is to keep his troth to thee at once. The Earl of Warwickhath granted his life to thy father on that condition only. "

"Oh, mother, is he willing?" cried Grisell trembling. 

"What skills that, child? His hand was pledged, and he must fulfilhis promise now that we have him. "

"Was it troth? I cannot remember it, " said Grisell. 

"That matters not. Your father's plight is the same thing. Hisfather was slain in the battle, so 'tis between him and us. Put onthy best clothes as fast as may be. Thou shalt have my wedding-veiland miniver mantle. Speed, I say. My lord has to hasten away tojoin the Earl on the way to London. He will see the knot tied beyondloosing at once. "

To dress herself was all poor Grisell could do in her bewilderment. Remonstrance was vain. The actual marriage without choice was not sorepugnant to all her feelings as to a modern maiden; it was theordinary destiny of womanhood, and she had been used in her childhoodto look on Leonard Copeland as her property; but to be forced on thepoor youth instantly on his father's death, and as an alternative toexecution, set all her maidenly feelings in revolt. Bernard wassitting up in bed, crying out that he could not lose his Grisly. Hermother was running backwards and forwards, bringing portions of herown bridal gear, and directing Thora, who was combing out her younglady's hair, which was long, of a beautiful brown, and was to be wornloose and flowing, in the bridal fashion. Grisell longed to kneeland pray, but her mother hurried her. "My lord must not be keptwaiting, there would be time enough for prayer in the church. " ThenBernard, clamouring loudly, threw his arms round the thick old heavysilken gown that had been put on her, and declared that he would notpart with his Grisly, and his mother tore him away by force, declaring that he need not fear, Copeland would be in no hurry totake her away, and again when she bent to kiss him he clung tightround her neck almost strangling her, and rumpling her tresses. 

Ridley had come up to say that my lord was calling for the younglady, and it was he who took the boy off and held him in his arms, asthe mother, who seemed endued with new strength by the excitement, threw a large white muffling veil over Grisell's head and shoulders, and led or rather dragged her down to the hall. 

The first sounds she there heard were, "Sir, I have given my faith tothe Lady Eleanor of Audley, whom I love. "

"What is that to me? 'Twas a precontract to my daughter. "

"Not made by me nor her. "

"By your parents, with myself. You went near to being her deathoutright, marred her face for life, so that none other will wed her. What say you? Not hurt by your own will? Who said it was? Whatmatters that?"

"Sir, " said Leonard, "it is true that by mishap, nay, if you willhave it so, by a child's inadvertence, I caused this evil chance tobefall your daughter, but I deny, and my father denies likewise, thatthere was any troth plight between the maid and me. She will own thesame if you ask her. As I spake before, there was talk of the likekind between you, sir, and my father, and it was the desire of thegood King that thus the families might be reconciled; but thecontract went no farther, as the holy King himself owned when I gavemy faith to the Lord Audley's daughter, and with it my heart. "

"Aye, we know that the Frenchwoman can make the poor fool of a Kingbelieve and avouch anything she choose! This is not the point. Nomore words, young man. Here stands my daughter; there is the rope. Choose--wed or hang. "

Leonard stood one moment with a look of agonised perplexity over hisface. Then he said, "If I consent, am I at liberty, free at once todepart?"

"Aye, " said Whitburn. "So you fulfil your contract, the rest isnought to me. "

"I am then at liberty? Free to carry my sword to my Queen and King?"

"Free. "

"You swear it, on the holy cross?"

Lord Whitburn held up the cross hilt of his sword before him, andmade oath on it that when once married to his daughter, LeonardCopeland was no longer his prisoner. 

Grisell through her veil read on the youthful face a look of griefand renunciation; he was sacrificing his love to the needs of Kingand country, and his words chimed in with her conviction. 

"Sir, I am ready. If it were myself alone, I would die rather thanbe false to my love, but my Queen needs good swords and faithfulhearts, and I may not fail her. I am ready!"

"It is well!" said Lord Whitburn. "Ho, you there! Bring the horsesto the door. "

Grisell, in all the strange suspense of that decision, had beenthinking of Sir Gawaine, whose lines rang in her head, but that lookof grief roused other feelings. Sir Gawaine had no other love tosacrifice. 

"Sir! sir!" she cried, as her father turned to bid her mount thepillion behind Ridley. "Can you not let him go free without? Ialways looked to a cloister. "

"That is for you and he to settle, girl. Obey me now, or it will bethe worse for him and you. "

"One word I would say, " added the mother. "How far hath this matterwith the Audley maid gone? There is no troth plight, I trow?"

"No, by all that is holy, no. Would the lad not have pleaded it ifthere had been? No more dilly-dallying. Up on the horse, Grisly, and have done with it. We will show the young recreant how promisesare kept in Durham County. "

He dragged rather than led his daughter to the door, and lifted herpassively to the pillion seat behind Cuthbert Ridley. A fine horse, Copeland's own, was waiting for him. He was allowed to ride freely, but old Whitburn kept close beside him, so that escape would havebeen impossible. He was in the armour in which he had fought, dimmedand dust-stained, but still glancing in the morning sun, whichglittered on the sea, though a heavy western thunder-cloud, purple inthe sun, was rising in front of this strange bridal cavalcade. 

It was overhead by the time the church was reached, and the heavyrain that began to fall caused the priest to bid the whole party comewithin for the part of the ceremony usually performed outside thewest door. 

It was very dark within. The windows were small and old, and filledwith dusky glass, and the arches were low browed. Grisell'smufflings were thrown aside, and she stood as became a maiden bride, with all her hair flowing over her shoulders and long tresses overher face, but even without this, her features would hardly have beenvisible, as the dense cloud rolled overhead; and indeed so tall andstraight was her figure that no one would have supposed her otherthan a fair young spouse. She trembled a good deal, but was too muchterrified and, as it were, stunned for tears, and she durst not raiseher drooping head even to look at her bridegroom, though such lightas came in shone upon his fair hair and was reflected on his armour, and on one golden spur that still he wore, the other no doubt lost inthe fight. 

All was done regularly. The Lord of Whitburn was determined that noceremony that could make the wedlock valid should be omitted. Thepriest, a kind old man, but of peasant birth, and entirelysubservient to the Dacres, proceeded to ask each of the pair whenthey had been assoiled, namely, absolved. Grisell, as he well knew, had been shriven only last Friday; Leonard muttered, "Three dayssince, when I was dubbed knight, ere the battle. "

"That suffices, " put in the Baron impatiently. "On with you, SirLucas. "

The thoroughly personal parts of the service were in English, andGrisell could not but look up anxiously when the solemn charge wasgiven to mention whether there was any lawful "letting" to theirmarriage. Her heart bounded as it were to her throat when Leonardmade no answer. 

But then what lay before him if he pleaded his promise!

It went on--those betrothal vows, dictated while the two cold handswere linked, his with a kind of limp passiveness, hers, quaking, especially as, in the old use of York, he took her "for laither forfairer"--laith being equivalent to loathly--"till death us do part. "And with failing heart, but still resolute heart, she faltered outher vow to cleave to him "for better for worse, for richer forpoorer, in sickness or health, and to be bonner (debonair orcheerful) and boughsome (obedient) till that final parting. "

The troth was plighted, and the silver mark--poor Leonard's soleavailable property at the moment--laid on the priest's book, as thewords were said, "with worldly cathel I thee endow, " and the ring, anold one of her mother's, was held on Grisell's finger. It was done, though, alas! the bridegroom could hardly say with truth, "with mybody I thee worship. "

Then followed the procession to the altar, the chilly hands barelytouching one another, and the mass was celebrated, when Latin did notcome home to the pair like English, though both fairly understood it. Grisell's feeling was by this time concentrated in the one hope thatshe should be dutiful to the poor, unwilling bridegroom, far more tobe pitied than herself, and that she should be guarded by Godwhatever befell. 

It was over. Signing of registers was not in those days, but therewas some delay, for the darkness was more dense than ever, the rushof furious hail was heard without, a great blue flash of intenselight filled every corner of the church, the thunder pealed sosharply and vehemently overhead that the small company looked at oneanother and at the church, to ascertain that no stroke had fallen. Then the Lord of Whitburn, first recovering himself, cried, "Come, sir knight, kiss your bride. Ha! where is he? Sir Leonard--here. Who hath seen him? Not vanished in yon flash! Eh?"

No, but the men without, cowering under the wall, deposed that SirLeonard Copeland had rushed out, shouted to them that he hadfulfilled the conditions and was a free man, taken his horse, andgalloped away through the storm. 

CHAPTER XIV--THE LONELY BRIDE

 Grace for the callantIf he marries our muckle-mouth Meg. 

BROWNING. 

"The recreant! Shall we follow him?" was the cry of Lord Whitburn'syounger squire, Harry Featherstone, with his hand on his horse'sneck, in spite of the torrents of rain and the fresh flash that setthe horses quivering. 

"No! no!" roared the Baron. "I tell you no! He has fulfilled hispromise; I fulfil mine. He has his freedom. Let him go! For therest, we will find the way to make him good husband to you, mywench, " and as Harry murmured something, "There's work enow in handwithout spending our horses' breath and our own in chasing after arunaway groom. A brief space we will wait till the storm be over. "

Grisell shrank back to pray at a little side altar, telling herbeads, and repeating the Latin formula, but in her heart all the timegiving thanks that she was going back to Bernard and her mother, whose needs had been pressing strongly on her, yet that she might doright by this newly-espoused husband, whose downcast, dejected lookhad filled her, not with indignation at the slight to her--she wasfar past that--but with yearning compassion for one thus severed fromhis true love. 

When the storm had subsided enough for these hardy northlanders toride home, and Grisell was again perched behind old Cuthbert Ridley, he asked, "Well, my Dame of Copeland, dost peak and pine for thyrunaway bridegroom?"

"Nay, I had far rather be going home to my little Bernard than beaway with yonder stranger I ken not whither. "

"Thou art in the right, my wench. If the lad can break the marriageby pleading precontract, you may lay your reckoning on it that so hewill. "

When they came home to the attempt at a marriage-feast which LadyWhitburn had improvised, they found that this was much her opinion. 

"He will get the knot untied, " she said. "So thick as the King andhis crew are with the Pope, it will cost him nothing, but we may, forvery shame, force a dowry out of his young knighthood to get thewench into Whitby withal!"

"So he even proffered on his way, " said the Baron. "He is a fair andknightly youth. 'Tis pity of him that he holds with the Frenchwoman. Ha, Bernard, 'tis for thy good. "

For the boy was clinging tight to his sister, and declaring that hisGrisly should never leave him again, not for twenty vile runawayhusbands. 

Grisell returned to all her old habits, and there was no differencein her position, excepting that she was scrupulously called DameGrisell Copeland. Her father was soon called away by the summons toParliament, sent forth in the name of King Henry, who was then in thehands of the Earl of Warwick in London. The Sheriff's messenger whobrought him the summons plainly said that all the friends of York, Salisbury, and Warwick were needed for a great change that would dashthe hopes of the Frenchwoman and her son. 

He went with all his train, leaving the defence of the castle toRidley and the ladies, and assuring Grisell that she need not bedownhearted. He would yet bring her fine husband, Sir Leonard, tohis marrow bones before her. 

Grisell had not much time to think of Sir Leonard, for as the summerwaned, both her mother and Bernard sickened with low fever. In thelady's case it was intermittent, and she spent only the third day inher bed, the others in crouching over the fire or hanging over thechild's bed, where he lay constantly tossing and fevered all night, sometimes craving to be on his sister's lap, but too restless long tolie there. Both manifestly became weaker, in spite of all Grisell'ssimple treatment, and at last she wrung from the lady permission tosend Ridley to Wearmouth to try if it was possible to bring outMaster Lambert Groot to give his advice, or if not, to obtainmedicaments and counsel from him. 

The good little man actually came, riding a mule. "Ay, ay, " quothRidley, "I brought him, though he vowed at first it might never be, but when he heard it concerned you, mistress--I mean Dame Grisell--hewas ready to come to your aid. "

Good little man, standing trim and neat in his burgher's dress andlittle frill-like ruff, he looked quite out of place in the dark oldhall. 

Lady Whitburn seemed to think him a sort of magician, though inferiorenough to be under her orders. "Ha! Is that your Poticary?" shedemanded, when Grisell brought him up to the solar. "Look at mybairn, Master Dutchman; see to healing him, " she continuedimperiously. 

Lambert was too well used to incivility from nobles to heed hermanner, though in point of fact a Flemish noble was far morecivilised than this North Country dame. He looked anxiously atBernard, who moaned a little and turned his head away. "Nay, now, Bernard, " entreated his sister; "look up at the good man, he thatsent you the sugar-balls. He is come to try to make you well. "

Bernard let her coax him to give his poor little wasted hand to theleech, and looked with wonder in his heavy eyes at the stranger, whofelt his pulse, and asked to have him lifted up for betterexamination. There was at first a dismal little whine at beingtouched and moved, but when a pleasantly acid drop was put into hislittle parched mouth, he smiled with brief content. His motherevidently expected that both he and she herself would be relieved onthe spot, but the Apothecary durst not be hopeful, though he gave thechild a draught which he called a febrifuge, and which put him tosleep, and bade the lady take another of the like if she wished for agood night's rest. 

He added, however, that the best remedy would be a pilgrimage toLindisfarne, which, be it observed, really meant absence from thefoul, close, feverish air of the castle, and all the evil odours ofthe court. To the lady he thought it would really be healing, but hedoubted whether the poor little boy was not too far gone for suchrevival; indeed, he made no secret that he believed the child wasstricken for death. 

"Then what boots all your vaunted chirurgery!" cried the motherpassionately. "You outlandish cheat! you! What did you come herefor? You have not even let him blood!"

"Let him blood! good madame, " exclaimed Master Lambert. "In hisstate, to take away his blood would be to kill him outright!"

"False fool and pretender, " cried Lady Whitburn; "as if all did notken that the first duty of a leech is to take away the infectedhumours of the blood! Demented as I was to send for you. Had youbeen worth but a pinch of salt, you would have shown me how to layhands on Nan the witch-wife, the cause of all the scathe to my poorbairn. "

Master Lambert could only protest that he laid no claim to the skillof a witch-finder, whereupon the lady stormed at him as having comeon false pretences, and at her daughter for having brought him, andfinally fell into a paroxysm of violent weeping, during which Grisellwas thankful to convey her guest out of the chamber, and place himunder the care of Ridley, who would take care he had food and rest, and safe convoy back to Wearmouth when his mule had been rested andbaited. 

"Oh, Master Lambert, " she said, "it grieves me that you should havebeen thus treated. "

"Heed not that, sweet lady. It oft falls to our share to brook thelike, and I fear me that yours is a weary lot. "

"But my brother! my little brother!" she asked. "It is all out of mymother's love for him. "

"Alack, lady, what can I say? The child is sickly, and little enoughis there of peace or joy in this world for such, be he high or lowborn. Were it not better that the Saints should take him to theirkeeping, while yet a sackless babe?"

Grisell wrung her hands together. "Ah! he hath been all my joy orbliss through these years; but I will strive to say it is well, andyield my will. "

The crying of the poor little sufferer for his Grisly called her backbefore she could say or hear more. Her mother lay still utterlyexhausted on her bed, and hardly noticed her; but all that evening, and all the ensuing night, Grisell held the boy, sometimes on herlap, sometimes on the bed, while all the time his moans grew more andmore feeble, his words more indistinct. By and by, as she sat on thebed, holding him on her breast, he dropped asleep, and perhaps, outwearied as she was, she slept too. At any rate all was still, till she was roused by a cry from Thora, "Holy St. Hilda! the bairnhas passed!"

And indeed when Grisell started, the little head and hand that hadbeen clasped to her fell utterly prone, and there was a strange coldat her breast. 

Her mother woke with a loud wail. "My bairn! My bairn!" snatchinghim to her arms. "This is none other than your Dutchman's doings, girl. Have him to the dungeon! Where are the stocks? Oh, my prettyboy! He breathed, he is living. Give me the wine!" Then as therewas no opening of the pale lips, she fell into another tempest oftears, during which Grisell rushed to the stair, where on the loweststep she met Lambert and Ridley. 

"Have him away! Have him away, Cuthbert, " she cried. "Out of thecastle instantly. My mother is distraught with grief; I know notwhat she may do to him. O go! Not a word!"

They could but obey, riding away in the early morning, and leavingthe castle to its sorrow. 

So, tenderly and sadly was little Bernard carried to the vault in thechurch, while Grisell knelt as his chief mourner, for her mother, after her burst of passion subsided, lay still and listless, hardlynoticing anything, as if there had fallen on her some stroke thataffected her brain. Tidings of the Baron were slow to come, andthough Grisell sent a letter by a wandering friar to York, withinformation of the child's death and the mother's illness, it wasvery doubtful when or whether they would ever reach him. 

CHAPTER XV--WAKEFIELD BRIDGE

I come to tell you things since then befallen. After the bloody fray at Wakefield fought, Where your brave father breathed his latest gasp. 

SHAKESPEARE, King Henry VI. , Part III. 

Christmas went by sadly in Whitburn Tower, but the succeeding weekswere to be sadder still. It was on a long dark evening that acommotion was heard at the gate, and Lady Whitburn, who had beensitting by the smouldering fire in her chamber, seemed suddenlystartled into life. 

"Tidings, " she cried. "News of my lord and son. Bring them, Grisell, bring them up. "

Grisell obeyed, and hurried down to the hall. All the household, menand maids, were gathered round some one freshly come in, and thefirst sound she heard was, "Alack! Alack, my lady!"

"How--what--how--" she asked breathlessly, just recognising HarryFeatherstone, pale, dusty, blood-stained. 

"It is evil news, dear lady, " said old Ridley, turning towards herwith outstretched hands, and tears flowing down his cheeks. "Myknight. Oh! my knight! And I was not by!"

"Slain?" almost under her breath, asked Grisell. 

"Even so! At Wakefield Bridge, " began Featherstone, but at thatinstant, walking stiff, upright, and rigid, like a figure moved bymechanism, Lady Whitburn was among them. 

"My lord, " she said, still as if her voice belonged to some one else. "Slain? And thou, recreant, here to tell the tale!"

"Madam, he fell before I had time to strike. " She seemed to hear noword, but again demanded, "My son. "

He hesitated a moment, but she fiercely reiterated. 

"My son! Speak out, thou coward loon. "

"Madam, Robert was cut down by the Lord Clifford beside the Earl ofRutland. 'Tis a lost field! I barely 'scaped with a dozen men. Icame but to bear the tidings, and see whether you needed an arm tohold out the castle for young Bernard. Or I would be on my way to myown folk on the Border, for the Queen's men will anon be everywhere, since the Duke is slain!"

"The Duke! The Duke of York!" was the cry, as if a tower were down. 

"What would you. We were caught by Somerset like deer in a buck-stall. Here! Give me a cup of ale, I can scarce speak for chill. "

He sank upon the settle as one quite worn out. The ale was broughtby some one, and he drank a long draught, while, at a sign fromRidley, one of the serving-men began to draw off his heavy boots andgreaves, covered with frosted mud, snow, and blood, all meltingtogether, but all the time he talked, and the hearers remainedstunned and listening to what had hardly yet penetrated theirunderstanding. Lady Whitburn had collapsed into her own chair, andwas as still as the rest. 

He spoke incoherently, and Ridley now and then asked a question, buthis fragmentary narrative may be thus expanded. 

All had, in Yorkist opinion, gone well in London. Henry was in thepower of the White Rose, and had actually consented that Richard ofYork should be his next heir, but in the meantime Queen Margaret hadbeen striving her utmost to raise the Welsh and the Border lords onbehalf of her son. She had obtained aid from Scotland, and thePercies, the Dacres of Gilsland, and many more, had followed herstandard. The Duke of York and Earl of Salisbury set forth torepress what they called a riot, probably unaware of the numbers whowere daily joining the Queen. With them went Lord Whitburn, hopingthence to return home, and his son Robert, still a squire of theDuke's household. 

They reached York's castle of Sendal, and there merrily keptChristmas, but on St. Thomas of Canterbury's Day they heard that thefoe were close at hand, many thousands strong, and on the morrowQueen Margaret, with her boy beside her, and the Duke of Somerset, came before the gate and called on the Duke to surrender the castle, and his own vaunting claims with it, or else come out and fight. 

Sir Davy Hall entreated the Duke to remain in the castle till his sonEdward, Earl of March, could bring reinforcements up from Wales, butYork held it to be dishonourable to shut himself up on account of ascolding woman, and the prudence of the Earl of Salisbury was atfault, since both presumed on the easy victories they had hithertogained. Therefore they sallied out towards Wakefield Bridge, toconfront the main body of Margaret's army, ignorant or careless thatshe had two wings in reserve. These closed in on them, and theirfate was certain. 

"My lord fell in the melee among the first, " said Featherstone. "Iwas down beside him, trying to lift him up, when a big Scot came withhis bill and struck at my head, and I knew no more till I found mymaster lying stark dead and stripped of all his armour. My sword wasgone, but I got off save for this cut" (and he pushed back his hair)"and a horse's kick or two, for the whole battle had gone over me, and I heard the shouting far away. As my lord lay past help, methought I had best shift myself ere more rascaille came to stripthe slain. And as luck or my good Saint would have it, as I stumbledamong the corpses I heard a whinnying, and saw mine own horse, BrownWeardale, running masterless. Glad enough was he, poor brute, tohave my hand on his rein. 

"The bridge was choked with fighting men, so I was about to put himto the river, when whom should I see on the bridge but young MasterRobin, and with him young Lord Edmund of Rutland. There, on theother side, holding parley with them, was the knight Mistress Grisellwedded, and though he wore the White Rose, he gave his hand to them, and was letting them go by in safety. I was calling to Master Rob tolet me pass as one of his own, when thundering on came the grim LordClifford, roaring like the wind in Roker caves. I heard him howl atyoung Copeland for a traitor, letting go the accursed spoilers ofYork. Copeland tried to speak, but Clifford dashed him aside againstthe wall, and, ah! woe's me, lady, when Master Robin threw himselfbetween, the fellow--a murrain on his name--ran the fair youththrough the neck with his sword, and swept him off into the river. Then he caught hold of Lord Edmund, crying out, "Thy father slewmine, and so do I thee, " and dashed out his brains with his mace. For me, I rode along farther, swam my horse over the river in thetwilight, with much ado to keep clear of the dead horses and poorslaughtered comrades that cumbered the stream, and what was evenworse, some not yet dead, borne along and crying out. A woful day itwas to all who loved the kindly Duke of York, or this same poorhouse! As luck would have it, I fell in with Jock of Redesdale and afew more honest fellows, who had 'scaped. We found none but friendswhen we were well past the river. They succoured us at the firstabbey we came to. The rest have sped to their homes, and here am I. "

Such was the tenor of Featherstone's doleful history of that blood-thirsty Lancastrian victory. All had hung in dire suspense on hiswords, and not till they were ended did Grisell become conscious thather mother was sitting like a stone, with fixed, glassy eyes anddropped lip, in the high-backed chair, quite senseless, and breathingstrangely. 

They took her up and carried her upstairs, as one who had receivedher death stroke as surely as had her husband and son on the slopesbetween Sendal and Wakefield. 

Grisell and Thora did their utmost, but without reviving her, andthey watched by her, hardly conscious of anything else, as they triedtheir simple, ineffective remedies one after another, with no thoughtor possibility of sending for further help, since the roads would beimpassable in the long January night, and besides, the Lancastriansmight make them doubly perilous. Moreover, this dumb paralysis wasaccepted as past cure, and needing not the doctor but the priest. Before the first streak of dawn on that tardy, northern morning, Ridley's ponderous step came up the stair, into the feeble light ofthe rush candle which the watchers tried to shelter from thedraughts. 

The sad question and answer of "No change" passed, and then Ridley, his gruff voice unnecessarily hushed, said, "Featherstone would speakwith you, lady. He would know whether it be your pleasure to keephim in your service to hold out the Tower, or whether he is free todepart. "

"Mine!" said Grisell bewildered. 

"Yea!" exclaimed Ridley. "You are Lady of Whitburn!"

"Ah! It is true, " exclaimed Grisell, clasping her hands. "Woe is methat it should be so! And oh! Cuthbert! my husband, if he lives, isa Queen's man! What can I do?"

"If it were of any boot I would say hold out the Tower. He deservesno better after the scurvy way he treated you, " said Cuthbert grimly. "He may be dead, too, though Harry fears he was but stunned. "

"But oh!" cried Grisell, as if she saw one gleam of light, "did not Ihear something of his trying to save my brother and Lord Edmund?"

"You had best come down and hear, " said Ridley. "Featherstone cannotgo till he has spoken with you, and he ought to depart betimes, lestthe Gilsland folk and all the rest of them be ravening on their wayback. "

Grisell looked at her mother, who lay in the same state, entirelypast her reach. The hard, stern woman, who had seemed to have noaffection to bestow on her daughter, had been entirely broken downand crushed by the loss of her sons and husband. 

Probably neither had realised that by forcing Grisell on youngCopeland they might be giving their Tower to their enemy. 

She went down to the hall, where Harry Featherstone, whose night haddone him more good than hers had, came to meet her, looking muchfreshened, and with a bandage over his forehead. He bent low beforeher, and offered her his services, but, as he told her, he and Ridleyhad been talking it over, and they thought it vain to try to hold outthe Tower, even if any stout men did straggle back from the battle, for the country round was chiefly Lancastrian, and it would bescarcely possible to get provisions, or to be relieved. Moreover, the Gilsland branch of the family, who would be the male heirs, wereon the side of the King and Queen, and might drive her out if sheresisted. Thus there seemed no occasion for the squire to remain, and he hoped to reach his own family, and save himself from the riskof being captured. 

"No, sir, we do not need you, " said Grisell. "If Sir LeonardCopeland lives and claims this Tower, there is no choice save toyield it to him. I would not delay you in seeking your own safety, but only thank you for your true service to my lord and father. "

She held out her hand, which Featherstone kissed on his knee. 

His horse was terribly jaded, and he thought he could make his waymore safely on foot than in the panoply of an esquire, for in thiswar, the poorer sort were hardly touched; the attacks were chieflymade on nobles and gentlemen. So he prepared to set forth, butGrisell obtained from him what she had scarcely understood the nightbefore, the entire history of the fall of her father and brother, andhow gallantly Leonard Copeland had tried to withstand Clifford'srage. 

"He did his best for them, " she said, as if it were her one drop ofhope and comfort. 

Ridley very decidedly hoped that Clifford's blow had freed her fromher reluctant husband; and mayhap the marriage would give her claimson the Copeland property. But Grisell somehow could not join in thewish. She could only remember the merry boy at Amesbury and the fairface she had seen sleeping in the hall, and she dwelt onFeatherstone's assurance that no wound had pierced the knight, andthat he would probably be little the worse for his fall against theparapet of the bridge. Use her as he might, she could not wish himdead, though it was a worthy death in defence of his old playfellowand of her own brother. 

CHAPTER XVI--A NEW MASTER

In the dark chambere, if the bride was fair, Ye wis, I could not see. . . . . And the bride rose from her kneeAnd kissed the smile of her mother dead. 

E. B. BROWNING, The Romaunt of the Page. 

The Lady of Whitburn lingered from day to day, sometimes showingsigns of consciousness, and of knowing her daughter, but never reallyreviving. At the end of a fortnight she seemed for one day somewhatbetter, but that night she had a fresh attack, and was so evidentlydying that the priest, Sir Lucas, was sent for to bring her the lastSacrament. The passing bell rang out from the church, and the oldman, with his little server before him, came up the stair, and wasreceived by Grisell, Thora, and one or two other servants on theirknees. 

Ridley was not there. For even then, while the priest was crossingthe hall, a party of spearmen, with a young knight at their head, rode to the gate and demanded entrance. 

The frightened porter hurried to call Master Ridley, who, instead ofescorting the priest with the Host to his dying lady, had to go tothe gate, where he recognised Sir Leonard Copeland, far from dead, invery different guise from that in which he had been brought to thecastle before. He looked, however, awed, as he said, bending hishead -

"Is it sooth, Master Ridley? Is death beforehand with me?"

"My old lady is in extremis, sir, " replied Ridley. "Poor soul, shehath never spoken since she heard of my lord's death and his son's. "

"The younger lad? Lives here?" demanded Copeland. "Is it as I haveheard?"

"Aye, sir. The child passed away on the Eve of St. Luke. I have mylady's orders, " he added reluctantly, "to open the castle to you, asof right. "

"It is well, " returned Sir Leonard. Then, turning round to thetwenty men who followed him, he said, "Men-at-arms, as you saw andheard, there is death here. Draw up here in silence. This goodesquire will see that you have food and fodder for the horses. Kemp, Hardcastle, " to his squires, "see that all is done with honour andrespect as to the lady of the castle and mine. Aught unseemly shallbe punished. "

Wherewith he dismounted, and entered the narrow little court, lookingabout him with a keen, critical, soldierly eye, but speaking withlow, grave tones. 

"I may not tarry, " he said to Ridley, "but this place, since it fallsto me and mine, must be held for the King and Queen. "

"My lady bows to your will, sir, " returned Ridley. 

Copeland continued to survey the walls and very antiquated defences, observing that there could have been few alarms there. This lastedtill the rites in the sick-room were ended, and the priest cameforth. 

"Sir, " he said to Copeland, "you will pardon the young lady. Hermother is in articulo mortis, and she cannot leave her. "

"I would not disturb her, " said Leonard. "The Saints forbid that Ishould vex her. I come but as in duty bound to damn this Tower onbehalf of King Harry, Queen Margaret, and the Prince of Wales againstall traitors. I will not tarry here longer than to put it into handswho will hold it for them and for me. How say you, Sir Squire?" headded, turning to Ridley, not discourteously. 

"We ever did hold for King Harry, sir, " returned the old esquire. 

"Yea, but against his true friends, York and Warwick. One is cutoff, ay, and his aider and defender, Salisbury, who should ratherhave stood by his King, has suffered a traitor's end at Pomfret. "

"My Lord of Salisbury! Ah! that will grieve my poor young lady, "sighed Ridley. 

"He was a kind lord, save for his treason to the King, " said Leonard. "We of his household long ago were happy enough, though strangelydivided now. For the rest, till that young wolf cub, Edward ofMarch, and his mischief-stirring cousin of Warwick be put down, thisplace must be held against them and theirs--whosoever bears the WhiteRose. Wilt do so, Master Seneschal?"

"I hold for my lady. That is all I know, " said Ridley, "and sheholds herself bound to you, sir. "

"Faithful. Ay? You will be her guardian, I see; but I must leavehalf a score of fellows for the defence, and will charge them thatthey show all respect and honour to the lady, and leave to you, asseneschal, all the household, and of all save the wardship of theTower, calling on you first to make oath of faith to me, and to donought to the prejudice of King Henry, the Queen, or Prince, nor tofavour the friends of York or Warwick. "

"I am willing, sir, " returned Ridley, who cared a great deal more forthe house of Whitburn than for either party, whose cause he by nomeans understood, perhaps no more than they had hitherto donethemselves. As long as he was left to protect his lady it was all heasked, and more than he expected, and the courtesy, not to saydelicacy, of the young knight greatly impressed both him and thepriest, though he suspected that it was a relief to Sir Leonard notto be obliged to see his bride of a few months. 

The selected garrison were called in. Ridley would rather have seenthem more of the North Country yeoman type than of the regularweather-beaten men-at-arms whom wars always bred up; but theirofficer was a slender, dainty-looking, pale young squire, with hisarm in a sling, named Pierce Hardcastle, selected apparently becausehis wound rendered rest desirable. Sir Leonard reiterated his chargethat all honour and respect was to be paid to the Lady of Whitburn, and that she was free to come and go as she chose, and to be obeyedin every respect, save in what regarded the defence of the Tower. Hehimself was going on to Monks Wearmouth, where he had a kinsman amongthe monks. 

With an effort, just as he remounted his horse, he said to Ridley, "Commend me to the lady. Tell her that I am grieved for her sorrowand to be compelled to trouble her at such a time; but 'tis for myQueen's service, and when this troublous times be ended, she shallhear more from me. " Turning to the priest he added, "I have no cointo spare, but let all be done that is needed for the souls of thedeparted lord and lady, and I will be answerable. "

Nothing could be more courteous, but as he rode off priest and squirelooked at one another, and Ridley said, "He will untie your knot, SirLucas. "

"He takes kindly to castle and lands, " was the answer, with a smile;"they may make the lady to be swallowed. "

"I trow 'tis for his cause's sake, " replied Ridley. "Mark you, henever once said 'My lady, ' nor 'My wife. '"

"May the sweet lady come safely out of it any way, " sighed thepriest. "She would fain give herself and her lands to the Church. "

"May be 'tis the best that is like to befall her, " said Ridley; "butif that young featherpate only had the wit to guess it, he would findthat he might seek Christendom over for a better wife. "

They were interrupted by a servant, who came hurrying down to saythat my lady was even now departing, and to call Sir Lucas to thebedside. 

All was over a few moments after he reached the apartment, andGrisell was left alone in her desolation. The only real, deep, mutual love had been between her and poor little Bernard; her elderbrother she had barely seen; her father had been indifferent, chieflyregarding her as a damaged piece of property, a burthen to theestate; her mother had been a hard, masculine, untender woman, onlysoftened in her latter days by the dependence of ill health and herpassion for her sickly youngest; but on her Grisell had experiencedSister Avice's lesson that ministry to others begets and fosterslove. 

And now she was alone in her house, last of her household, her workfor her mother over, a wife, but loathed and deserted except so faras that the tie had sanctioned the occupation of her home by ahostile garrison. Her spirit sank within her, and she bitterly feltthe impoverishment of the always scanty means, which deprived her ofthe power of laying out sums of money on those rites which wereuniversally deemed needful for the repose of souls snatched away inbattle. It was a mercenary age among the clergy, and besides, it wasthe depth of a northern winter, and the funeral rites of the Lady ofWhitburn would have been poor and maimed indeed if a whole band ofblack Benedictine monks had not arrived from Wearmouth, saying theyhad been despatched at special request and charge of Sir LeonardCopeland. 

CHAPTER XVII--STRANGE GUESTS

The needle, having nought to do, Was pleased to let the magnet wheedle, Till closer still the tempter drew, And off at length eloped the needle. 

T. MOORE. 

The nine days of mourning were spent in entire seclusion by Grisell, who went through every round of devotions prescribed or recommendedby the Church, and felt relief and rest in them. She shrank whenRidley on the tenth day begged her no longer to seclude herself inthe solar, but to come down to the hall and take her place as Lady ofthe Castle, otherwise he said he could not answer for the conduct ofCopeland's men. 

"Master Hardcastle desires it too, " he said. "He is a good ladenough, but I doubt me whether his hand is strong enough over thosefellows! You need not look for aught save courtesy from him! Comedown, lady, or you will never have your rights. "

"Ah, Cuthbert, what are my rights?"

"To be mistress of your own castle, " returned Ridley, "and that youwill never be unless you take the upper hand. Here are all ourhousehold eating with these rogues of Copeland's, and who is to keeprule if the lady comes not?"

"Alack, and how am I to do so?"

However, the consideration brought her to appear at the very earlydinner, the first meal of the day, which followed on the return frommass. Pierce Hardcastle met her shyly. He was a tall slenderstripling, looking weak and ill, and he bowed very low as he said, "Greet you well, lady, " and looked up for a moment as if in fear ofwhat he might encounter. Grisell indeed was worn down with longwatching and grief, and looked haggard and drawn so as to enhance allher scars and distortion of feature into more uncomeliness than herwont. She saw him shudder a little, but his lame arm and wan looksinterested her kind heart. "I fear me you are still feeling yourwound, sir, " she said, in the sweet voice which was evidently asurprise to him. 

"It is my plea for having been a slug-a-bed this morning, " heanswered. 

They sat down at the table. Grisell between Ridley and Hardcastle, the servants and men-at-arms beyond. Porridge and broth and verysmall ale were the fare, and salted meat would be for supper, and asGrisell knew but too well already, her own retainers were grumblingat the voracious appetites of the men-at-arms as much as did theirunwilling guests at the plainness and niggardliness of the supply. 

Thora had begged for a further allowance of beer for them, or even tobroach a cask of wine. "For, " said she, "they are none such fiendsas we thought, if one knows how to take them courteously. "

"There is no need that you should have any dealings with them, Thora, " said her lady, with some displeasure; "Master Ridley sees totheir provision. "

Thora tossed up her head a little and muttered something about notbeing mewed out of sight and speech of all men. And when sheattended her lady to the hall there certainly were glances betweenher and a slim young archer. 

The lady's presence was certainly a restraint on the rude men-at-arms, though two or three of them seemed to her rough, reckless-looking men. After the meal all her kindly instincts were aroused toask what she could do for the young squire, and he willingly puthimself into her hands, for his hurt had become much more painfulwithin the last day or two, as indeed it proved to be festering, andin great need of treatment. 

Before the day was over the two had made friends, and Grisell hadfound him to be a gentle, scholarly youth, whom the defence of theQueen had snatched from his studies into the battlefield. He toldher a great deal about the good King, and his encouragement of hisbeloved scholars at Eton, and he spoke of Queen Margaret with anenthusiasm new to Grisell, who had only heard her reviled as theFrenchwoman. Pierce could speak with the greatest admiration, too, of his own knight, Sir Leonard, whom he viewed as the pink ofchivalry, assuring Lady Copeland, as he called her, that she neednever doubt for a moment of his true honour and courtesy. Griselllonged to know, but modest pride forbade her to ask, whether he knewhow matters stood with her rival, Lady Eleanor Audley. Ridley, however, had no such feeling, and he reported to Grisell what he haddiscovered. 

Young Hardcastle had only once seen the lady, and had thought hervery beautiful, as she looked from a balcony when King Henry wasriding to his Parliament. Leonard Copeland, then a squire, wasstanding beside her, and it had been currently reported that he wasto be her bridegroom. 

He had returned from his captivity after the battle of Northamptonexceedingly downcast, but striving vehemently in the cause ofLancaster, and Hardcastle had heard that the question had beendiscussed whether the forced marriage had been valid, or could bedissolved; but since the bodies of Lord Whitburn and his son had beenfound on the ground at Wakefield, this had ceased, and it wasbelieved that Queen Margaret had commanded Sir Leonard, on hisallegiance, to go and take possession of Whitburn and its vassals inher cause. 

But Pierce Hardcastle had come to Ridley's opinion, that did hisknight but shut his eyes, the Lady Grisell was as good a mate as mancould wish both in word and deed. 

"I would fain, " said he, "have the Lady Eleanor to look at, but thislady to dress my hurts, ay, and talk with me. Never met I woman whowas so good company! She might almost be a scholar at Oxford for herwit. "

However much solace the lady might find in the courtesy of MasterHardcastle, she was not pleased to find that her hand-maiden Thoraexchanged glances with the young men-at-arms; and in a few daysRidley spoke to Grisell, and assured her that mischief would ensue ifthe silly wench were not checked in her habit of loitering andchattering whenever she could escape from her lady's presence in thesolar, which Grisell used as her bower, only descending to the hallat meal-times. 

Grisell accordingly rebuked her the next time she delayedunreasonably over a message, but the girl pouted and mutteredsomething about young Ralph Hart helping her with the heavy pitcherup the stair. 

"It is unseemly for a maiden to linger and get help from strangesoldiers, " said Grisell. 

"No more unseemly than for the dame to be ever holding converse withtheir captain, " retorted the North Country hand-maiden, free ofspeech and with a toss of the head. 

"Whist, Thora! or you must take a buffet, " said Grisell, clenching afist unused to striking, and trying to regard chastisement as a duty. "You know full well that my only speech with Master Hardcastle is ashis hostess. "

Thora laughed. "Ay, lady; I ken well what the men say. How thatpoor youth is spell-bound, and that you are casting your glamour overhim as of old over my poor old lady and little Master Bernard. "

"For shame, Thora, to bring me such tales!" and Grisell's handactually descended on her maiden's face, but so slight was the forcethat it only caused a contemptuous laugh, which so angered the youngmistress as to give her energy to strike again with all her might. 

"And you'd beat me, " observed her victim, roused to anger. "You areso ill favoured yourself that you cannot bear a man to look on a fairmaid!"

"What insolence is this?" cried Grisell, utterly amazed. "Go intothe turret room, spin out this hank, and stay there till I call youto supper. Say your Ave, and recollect what beseems a modestmaiden. "

She spoke with authority, which Thora durst not resist, and withdrewstill pouting and grumbling. 

Grisell was indeed young herself and inexperienced, and knew not thather wrath with the girl might be perilous to herself, while sympathymight have evoked wholesome confidence. 

For the maiden, just developing into northern comeliness, wasattractive enough to win the admiration of soldiers in garrison withnothing to do, and on her side their notice, their rough compliments, and even their jests, were delightful compared with the dulness ofher mistress's mourning chamber, and court enough was paid to hercompletely to turn her head. If there were love and gratitudelurking in the bottom of her heart towards the lady who had made afair and skilful maiden out of the wild fisher girl, all wassmothered in the first strong impulse of love for this young RalphHart, the first to awaken the woman out of the child. 

The obstacles which Grisell, like other prudent mistresses in alltimes, placed in the course of this true love, did but serve toalienate the girl and place her in opposition. The creature hadgrown up as wild and untamed as one of the seals on the shore, andthough she had had a little training and teaching of late years, itwas entirely powerless when once the passion was evoked in her by thenew intercourse and rough compliments of the young archer, and shewas for the time at his beck and call, regarding her lady as hertyrant and enemy. It was the old story of many a household. 

CHAPTER XVIII--WITCHERY

The lady has gone to her secret bower, The bower that was guarded by word and by spell. 

SCOTT, The Lay of the Last Minstrel. 

"Master Squire, " said the principal man-at-arms of the garrison toPierce Hardcastle, "is it known to you what this laidly dame'spractices be?"

"I know her for a dame worthy of all honour and esteem, " returned theesquire, turning hastily round in wrath. He much disliked this man, a regular mercenary of the free lance description, a fellow of Frenchor Alsatian birth, of middle age, much strength, and on account of agreat gash and sideways twist of his snub nose always known as Tordu, and strongly suspected that he had been sent as a sort of spy orcheck on Sir Leonard Copeland and on himself. The man replied with agrowl:

"Ah ha! Sans doubt she makes her niggard fare seem dainty cakes tothose under her art. "

In fact the evident pleasure young Hardcastle took in the LadyCastellane's society, the great improvement in his wound under hertreatment, and the manner in which the serfs around came to ask heraid in their maladies, had excited the suspicion of the men-at-arms. They were older men, hardened and roughened, inclined to despise hisyouth, and to resent the orderly discipline of the household, whichunder Ridley went on as before, and the murmurs of Thora led toinquiries, answered after the exaggerated fashion of gossip. 

There were outcries about provisions and wine or ale, and shoutsdemanding more, and when Pierce declared that he would not have thelady insulted, there was a hoarse loud laugh. He was about to orderTordu as ringleader into custody, but Ridley said to him aside, "Bestnot, sir; his fellows will not lay a finger on him, and if we did so, there would be a brawl, and we might come by the worst. "

So Pierce could only say, with all the force he could, "Bear in mindthat Sir Leonard Copeland is lord here, and all miscourtesy to hislady is an offence to himself, which will be visited with his wrath. "

The sneering laugh came again, and Tordu made answer, "Ay, ay, sir;she has bewitched you, and we'll soon have him and you free. "

Pierce was angered into flying at the man with his sword, but theother men came between, and Ridley held him back. 

"You are still a maimed man, sir. To be foiled would be worse thanto let it pass. "

"There, fellow, I'll spare you, so you ask pardon of me and thelady. "

Perhaps they thought they had gone too far, for there was a sulkygrowl that might pass for an apology, and Ridley's counsel wasdecided that Pierce had better not pursue the matter. 

What had been said, however, alarmed him, and set him on the watch, and the next evening, when Hardcastle was walking along the cliffsbeyond the castle, the lad who acted as his page came to him, withround, wondering eyes, "Sir, " said he, after a little hesitation, "isit sooth that the lady spake a spell over your arm?"

"Not to my knowledge, " said Pierce smiling. 

"It might be without your knowledge, " said the boy. "They say ithealed as no chirurgeon could have healed it, and by magic arts. "

"Ha! the lubbard oafs. You know better than to believe them, Dick. "

"Nay, sir, but 'tis her bower-woman and Madge, the cook's wife. Bothaver that the lady hath bewitched whoever comes in her way ever sinceshe crossed the door. She hath wrought strange things with herfather, mother, and brothers. They say she bound them to her; thatthe little one could not brook to have her out of sight; yet sheworked on him so that he was crooked and shrivelled. Yet he wept andcried to have her ever with him, while he peaked and pined anddwindled away. And her mother, who was once a fine, stately, masterful dame, pined to mere skin and bone, and lay in lethargy; andnow she is winding her charms on you, sir!"

Pierce made an exclamation of loathing and contempt. Dick loweredhis voice to a whisper of awe. 

"Nay, sir, but Le Tordu and Ned of the Bludgeon purpose to ride overto Shields to the wise, and they will deal with her when he has foundthe witch's mark. "

"The lady!" cried Hardcastle in horror. "You see her what she is! Aholy woman if ever there was one! At mass each morning. "

"Ay, but the wench Thora told Ralph that 'tis prayers backward shesays there. Thora has oft heard her at night, and 'twas no Ave norCredo as they say them here. "

Pierce burst out laughing. "I should think not. They speakgibberish, and she, for I have heard her in Church, speaks words witha meaning, as her priest and nuns taught her. "

"But her face, sir. There's the Evil One's mark. One side says nayto the other. "

"The Evil One! Nay, Dick, he is none other than Sir Leonard himself. 'Twas he that all unwittingly, when a boy, fired a barrel of powderclose to her and marred her countenance. You are not fool and assenough to give credence to these tales. "

"I said not that I did, sir, " replied the page; "but it is what themen-at-arms swear to, having drawn it from the serving-maid. "

"The adder, " muttered Pierce. 

"Moreover, " continued the boy, "they have found out that there is awise man witch-finder at Shields. They mean to be revenged for thescanty fare and mean providings; and they deem it will be a merryjest in this weary hold, and that Sir Leonard will be too glad to bequit of his gruesome dame to call them to account. "

It was fearful news, for Pierce well knew his own incompetence torestrain these strong and violent men. He did not know where hisknight was to be found, and, if he had known, it was only too likelythat these terrible intentions might be carried out before anymessenger could reach him. Indeed, the belief in sorcery wasuniversal, and no rank was exempt from the danger of the accusation. Thora's treachery was specially perilous. All that the young mancould do was to seek counsel with Cuthbert Ridley, and even this hewas obliged to do in the stable, bidding Dick keep watch outside. Ridley too had heard a spiteful whisper or two, but it had seemed toopreposterous for him to attend to it. "You are young, Hardcastle, "he said, with a smile, "or you would know that there is nothing agrumbler will not say, nor how far men's tongues lie from theirhands. "

"Nay, but if their hands DID begin to act, how should we save thelady? There's nothing Tordu would not do. Could we get her away tosome nunnery?"

"There is no nunnery nearer at hand than Gateshead, and there thePrioress is a Musgrove, no friend to my lord. She might give her up, on such a charge, for holy Church is no guardian in them. My poorbairn! That ingrate Thora too! I would fain wring her neck! Yethere are our fisher folk, who love her for her bounty. "

"Would they hide her?" asked Pierce. 

"That serving-wench--would I had drowned her ere bringing her here--might turn them, and, were she tracked, I ken not who might not bescared or tortured into giving her up!"

Here Dick looked in. "Tordu is crossing the yard, " he said. 

They both became immediately absorbed in studying the condition ofFeatherstone's horse, which had never wholly recovered the flightfrom Wakefield. 

After a time Ridley was able to steal away, and visit Grisell in herapartment. She came to meet him, and he read alarm, incredulousalarm, in her face. She put her hands in his. "Is it sooth?" shesaid, in a strange, awe-stricken voice. 

"You have heard, then, my wench?"

"Thora speaks in a strange tone, as though evil were brewing againstme. But you, and Master Hardcastle, and Sir Lucas, and the restwould never let them touch me?"

"They should only do so through my heart's blood, dear child; butmine would be soon shed, and Hardcastle is a weakly lad, whom thosefellows believe to be bewitched. We must find some other way!"

"Sir Leonard would save me if he knew. Alas! the good Earl ofSalisbury is dead. "

"'Tis true. If we could hide you till we be rid of these men. Butwhere?" and he made a despairing gesture. 

Grisell stood stunned and dazed as the horrible prospect rose beforeher of being seized by these lawless men, tortured by the savagehands of the witch-finder, subjected to a cruel death, by fire, or atbest by water. She pressed her hands together, feeling utterlydesolate, and prayed her prayer to the God of the fatherless to saveher or brace her to endure. 

Presently Cuthbert exclaimed, "Would Master Groats, the Poticary, shelter you till this is over-past? His wife is deaf and mustperforce keep counsel. "

"He would! I verily believe he would, " exclaimed Grisell; "and nosuspicion would light on him. How soon can I go to him, and how?"

"If it may be, this very night, " said Ridley. "I missed two of therogues, and who knows whither they may have gone?"

"Will there be time?" said the poor girl, looking round in terror. 

"Certes. The nearest witch-finder is at Shields, and they cannot getthere and back under two days. Have you jewels, lady? And hark you, trust not to Thora. She is the worst traitor of all. Ask me nomore, but be ready to come down when you hear a whistle. "

That Thora could be a traitress and turn against her--the girl whomshe had taught, trained, and civilised--was too much to believe. Shewould almost, in spite of cautions, have asked her if it werepossible, and tried to explain the true character of the servicesthat were so cruelly misinterpreted; but as she descended the darkwinding stair to supper, she heard the following colloquy:

"You will not deal hardly with her, good Ralph, dear Ralph?"

"That thou shalt see, maid! On thy life, not a word to her. "

"Nay, but she is a white witch! she does no evil. "

"What! Going back on what thou saidst of her brother and her mother. Take thou heed, or they will take order with thee. "

"Thou wilt take care of me, good Ralph. Oh! I have done it forthee. "

"Never fear, little one; only shut thy pretty little mouth;" andthere was a sound of kissing. 

"What will they do to her?" in a lower voice. 

"Thou wilt see! Sink or swim thou knowst. Ha! ha! She will haveenough of the draught that is so free to us. "

Grisell, trembling and horror-stricken, could only lean against thewall hoping that her beating heart did not sound loud enough tobetray her, till a call from the hall put an end to the terriblewhispers. 

She hurried upwards lest Thora should come up and perceive how nearshe had been, then descended and took her seat at supper, trying toconverse with Pierce as usual, but noting with terror the absence ofthe two soldiers. 

How her evasion was to be effected she knew not. The castle keyswere never delivered to her, but always to Hardcastle, and she sawhim take them; but she received from Ridley a look and sign whichmeant that she was to be ready, and when she left the hall she madeup a bundle of needments, and in it her precious books and all thejewels she had inherited. That Thora did not follow her was a boon. 

CHAPTER XIX--A MARCH HARE

Yonder is a man in sight -Yonder is a house--but where?No. She must not enter there. To the caves, and to the brooks, To the clouds of heaven she looks. 

WORDSWORTH, Feast of Brougham Castle. 

Long, long did Grisell kneel in an agony of prayer and terror, as sheseemed already to feel savage hands putting her to the ordeal. 

The castle had long been quiet and dark, so far as she knew, whenthere was a faint sound and a low whistle. She sprang to the doorand held Ridley's hand. 

"Now is the time, " he said, under his breath; "the squire waits. That treacherous little baggage is safe locked into the cellar, whither I lured her to find some malvoisie for the rascaille crew. Come. "

He was without his boots, and silently led the way along the narrowpassage to the postern door, where stood young Hardcastle with thekeys. He let them out and crossed the court with them to the littledoor leading to a steep descent of the cliffs by a narrow path. Nottill the sands were reached did any of the three dare to speak, andthen Grisell held out her hands in thanks and farewell. 

"May I not guard you on your way, lady?" said Pierce. 

"Best not, sir, " returned Ridley; "best not know whither she is gone. I shall be back again before I am missed or your rogues arestirring. "

"When Sir Leonard knows of their devices, lady, " said Pierce, "thenwill Ridley tell him where to find you and bring you back in allhonour. "

Grisell could only sigh, and try to speak her thanks to the youngman, who kissed her hand, and stood watching her and Ridley as thewaning moon lighted them over the glistening sands, till they soughtthe friendly shadows of the cliffs. And thus Grisell Dacre partedfrom the home of her fathers. 

"Cuthbert, " she said, "should you see Sir Leonard, let him know thatif--if he would be free from any bond to me I will aid in breakingit, and ask only dowry enough to obtain entrance to a convent, whilehe weds the lady he loves. "

Ridley interrupted her with imprecations on the knight, andexhortations to her to hold her own, and not abandon her rights. "Ifhe keep the lands, he should keep the wife, " was his cry. 

"His word and heart--" began Grisell. 

"Folly, my wench. No question but she is bestowed on some one else. You do not want to be quit of him and be mewed in a nunnery. "

"I only crave to hide my head and not be the bane of his life. "

"Pshaw! You have seen for yourself. Once get over the first glanceand you are worth the fairest dame that ever was jousted for in thelists. Send him at least a message as though it were not your willto cast him off. "

"If you will have it so, then, " said Grisell, "tell him that if it behis desire, I will strive to make him a true, loyal, and lovingwife. "

The last words came with a sob, and Ridley gave a little inwardchuckle, as of one who suspected that the duties of the good andloving wife would not be unwillingly undertaken. 

Castle-bred ladies were not much given to long walks, and though thedistance was only two miles, it was a good deal for Grisell, and sheplodded on wearily, to the sound of the lap of the sea and the criesof the gulls. The caverns of the rock looked very black and gloomy, and she clung to Ridley, almost expecting something to spring out onher; but all was still, and the pale eastward light began to be seenover the sea before they turned away from it to ascend to thescattered houses of the little rising town. 

The bells of the convent had begun to ring for lauds, but it was onlytwilight when they reached the wall of Lambert's garden of herbs, where there was a little door that yielded to Ridley's push. Thehouse was still closed, and hoar frost lay on the leaves, but Grisellproposed to hide herself in the little shed which served the purposeof tool-house and summer-house till she could make her entrance. Shefelt sure of a welcome, and almost constrained Cuthbert to leave her, so as to return to the Tower early enough to avert suspicion--aneasier matter as the men-at-arms were given to sleeping as late asthey could. He would make an errand to the Apothecary's as soon ashe could, so as to bring intelligence. 

There sat Grisell, looking out on the brightening sky, while theblackbirds and thrushes were bursting into song, and sweet odoursrising from the spring buds of the aromatic plants around, and amorning bell rang from the great monastery church. With that she sawthe house door open, and Master Lambert in a fur cap and gown turnedup with lambs'-wool come out into the garden, basket in hand, andchirp to the birds to come down and be fed. 

It was pretty to see how the mavis and the merle, the sparrow, chaffinch, robin, and tit fluttered round, and Grisell waited amoment to watch them before she stepped forth and said, "Ah! MasterGroot, here is another poor bird to implore your bounty. "

"Lady Grisell, " he cried, with a start. 

"Ah! not that name, " she said; "not a word. O Master Lambert, I cameby night; none have seen me, none but good Cuthbert Ridley ken whereI am. There can be no peril to you or yours if you will give shelterfor a little while to a poor maid. "

"Dear lady, we will do all we can, " returned Lambert. "Fear not. How pale you are. You have walked all night! Come and rest. Nonewill follow. You are sore spent! Clemence shall bring you a warmdrink! Condescend, dear lady, " and he made her lean on his arm, andbrought her into his large living room, and placed her in thecomfortable cross-legged chair with straps and cushions as a back, while he went into some back settlement to inform his wife of hervisitor; and presently they brought her warm water, with somerefreshing perfume, in a brass basin, and he knelt on one knee tohold it to her, while she bathed her face and hands with a sponge--arare luxury. She started at every sound, but Lambert assured herthat she was safe, as no one ever came beyond the booth. HisClemence had no gossips, and the garden could not be overlooked. While some broth was heated for her she began to explain her peril, but he exclaimed, "Methinks I know, lady, if it was thereanent that agreat strapping Hollander fellow from your Tower came to ask me for acharm against gramarie, with hints that 'twas in high places. 'Twasenough to make one laugh to see the big lubber try to whisper hints, and shiver and shake, as he showed me a knot in his matted locks andasked if it were not the enemy's tying. I told him 'twas tied by theenemy indeed, the deadly sin of sloth, and that a stout Dutchmanought to be ashamed of himself for carrying such a head within orwithout. But I scarce bethought me the impudent Schelm could havethought of you, lady. "

"Hush again. Forget the word! They are gone to Shields in search ofthe witch-finder, to pinch me, and probe me, and drown me, or burnme, " cried Grisell, clasping her hands. "Oh! take me somewhere ifyou cannot safely hide me; I would not bring trouble on you!"

"You need not fear, " he answered. "None will enter here but by mygoodwill, and I will bar the garden door lest any idle lad should pryin; but they come not here. The tortoise who crawls about in thesummer fills them with too much terror for them to venture, and isbetter than any watch-dog. Now, let me touch your pulse. Ah! Iwould prescribe lying down on the bed and resting for the day. "

She complied, and Clemence took her to the upper floor, where it wasthe pride of the Flemish housewife to keep a guest-chamber, absolutely neat, though very little furnished, and indeed seldom ornever used; but she solicitously stroked the big bed, and signed toGrisell to lie down in the midst of pillows of down, above and below, taking off her hood, mantle, and shoes, and smoothing her down withnods and sweet smiles, so that she fell sound asleep. 

When she awoke the sun was at the meridian, and she came down to thenoontide meal. Master Groot was looking much entertained. 

Wearmouth, he said, was in a commotion. The great Dutch Whitburnman-at-arms had come in full of the wonderful story. Not only hadthe grisly lady vanished, but a cross-bow man had shot an enormoushare on the moor, a creature with one ear torn off, and a seam on itsface, and Masters Hardcastle and Ridley altogether favoured thebelief that it was the sorceress herself without time to change hershape. Did Mynheer Groot hold with them?

For though Dutch and Flemings were not wholly friendly at home, yetin a strange country they held together, and remembered that theywere both Netherlanders, and Hannekin would fain know what thoughtthe wise man. 

"Depend on it, there was no time for a change, " gravely said Groot. "Have not Nostradamus, Albertus Magnus, and Rogerus Bacon" (he washeaping names together as he saw Hannekin's big gray eyes growrounder and rounder) "all averred that the great Diabolus can givehis minions power to change themselves at will into hares, cats, ortoads to transport themselves to the Sabbath on Walpurgs' night?"

"You deem it in sooth, " said the Dutchman, "for know you that theparish priest swears, and so do the more part of the villein fisherfolk, that there's no sorcery in the matter, but that she is a trueand holy maid, with no powers save what the Saints had given her, andthat her cures were by skill. Yet such was scarce like to a mereJungvrow. "

It went sorely against Master Lambert's feelings, as well as somewhatagainst his conscience, to encourage the notion of the death of hisguest as a hare, though it ensured her safety and prevented a search. He replied that her skill certainly was uncommon in a Jungvrow, beyond nature, no doubt, and if they were unholy, it was well thatthe arblaster had made a riddance of her. 

"By the same token, " added Hannekin, "the elf lock came out of myhair this very morn, I having, as you bade me, combed it each mornwith the horse's currycomb. "

Proof positive, as Lambert was glad to allow him to believe. And thenext day all Sunderland and the two Wearmouths believed that the deadhare had shrieked in a human voice on being thrown on a fire, and hadactually shown the hands and feet of a woman before it was consumed. 

It was all the safer for Grisell as long as she was not recognised, and of this there was little danger. She was scarcely known inWearmouth, and could go to mass at the Abbey Church in a deep blackhood and veil. Master Lambert sometimes received pilgrims from hisown country on their way to English shrines, and she could easilypass for one of these if her presence were perceived, but except tomass in very early morning, she never went beyond the garden, wherethe spring beauty was enjoyment to her in the midst of her lonelinessand entire doubt as to her future. 

It was a grand old church, too, with low-browed arches, reminding herof the dear old chapel of Wilton, and with a lofty though undecoratedsquare tower, entered by an archway adorned with curious twistedsnakes with long beaks, stretching over and under one another. 

The low heavy columns, the round circles, and the small windows, casting a very dim religious light, gave Grisell a sense of being inthe atmosphere of that best beloved place, Wilton Abbey. She longedafter Sister Avice's wisdom and tenderness, and wondered whether herlands would purchase from her knight, power to return thither withdower enough to satisfy the demands of the Proctor. It was a hopethat seemed like an inlet of light in her loneliness, when no one wasfaithful save Cuthbert Ridley, and she felt cut to the heart aboveall by Thora's defection and cruel accusations, not knowing that halfwas owning to the intoxication of love, and the other half to agossiping tongue. 

CHAPTER XX--A BLIGHT ON THE WHITE ROSE

Witness Aire's unhappy water Where the ruthless Clifford fell, And when Wharfe ran red with slaughter On the day of Towton's field. Gathering in its guilty floodThe carnage and the ill spilt blood That forty thousand lives could yield. 

SOUTHEY, Funeral Song of Princess Charlotte. 

Grisell from the first took her part in the Apothecary's household. Occupation was a boon to her, and she not only spun and made lacewith Clemence, but showed her new patterns learned in old days atWilton; and still more did she enjoy assisting the master of thehouse in making his compounds, learning new nostrums herself, andimparting others to him, showing a delicacy of finger which the oldFleming could not emulate. In the fabrication of perfumes for thepouncet box, and sweetmeats prepared with honey and sugar, she provedto have a dainty hand, so that Lambert, who would not touch herjewels, declared that she was fully earning her maintenance by theassistance that she gave to him. 

They were not molested by the war, which was decidedly a war ofbattles, not of sieges, but they heard far more of tidings than werewont to reach Whitburn Tower. They knew of the advance of Edward toLondon; and the terrible battle of Towton begun, was fought out whilethe snow fell far from bloodless, on Palm Sunday; and while the choirboys had been singing their Gloria, laus et honor in the gallery overthe church door, shivering a little at the untimely blast, there hadbeen grim and awful work, when for miles around the Wharfe and Airethe snow lay mixed with blood. That the Yorkists had gained wasknown, and that the Queen and Prince had fled; but nothing was heardof the fate of individuals, and Master Lambert was much occupied withtidings from Bruges, whence information came, in a messenger sent bya notary that his uncle, an old miser, whose harsh displeasure at hismarriage had driven him forth, was just dead, leaving him heir to afairly prosperous business and a house in the city. 

To return thither was of course Lambert's intention as soon as hecould dispose of his English property. He entreated Grisell toaccompany him and Clemence, assuming her that at the chief city of sogreat a prince as Duke Philip of Burgundy, she would have a betterhope of hearing tidings of her husband than in a remote town likeSunderland; and that if she still wished to dispose of her jewels shewould have a far better chance of so doing. He was arguing the pointwith her, when there was a voice in the stall outside which madeGrisell start, and Lambert, going out, brought in Cuthbert Ridley, staggering under the weight of his best suit of armour, and with abundle and bag under his mantle. 

Grisell sprang up eagerly to meet him, but as she put her hands intohis he looked sorrowfully at her, and she asked under her breath, "Ah! Sir Leonard--?"

"No tidings of the recreant, " growled Ridley, "but ill tidings forboth of you. The Dacres of Gilsland are on us, claiming your castleand lands as male heirs to your father. "

"Do they know that I live?" asked Grisell, "or"--unable to control alittle laugh--"do they deem that I was slain in the shape of a hare?"

"Or better than that, " put in Lambert; "they have it now in thewharves that the corpse of the hare took the shape and hands of awoman when in the hall. "

"I ken not, the long-tongued rogues, " said Ridley; "but if my younglady were standing living and life-like before them as, thank St. Hilda, I see her now, they would claim it all the more as male heirs, and this new King Edward has granted old Sir John seisin, being thatshe is the wife of one of King Henry's men!"

"Are they there? How did you escape?"

"I got timely notice, " said Cuthbert. "Twenty strong halted over thenight at Yeoman Kester's farm on Heather Gill--a fellow that would doanything for me since we fought side by side on the day of theHerrings. So he sends out his two grandsons to tell me what theywere after, while they were drinking his good ale to health of theirKing Edward. So forewarned, forearmed. We have left them emptywalls, get in as they can or may--unless that traitor Tordu choosesto stay and make terms with them. "

"Master Hardcastle! Would he fly? Surely not!" asked Grisell. 

"Master Hardcastle, with Dutch Hannekin and some of the better sort, went off long since to join their knight's banner, and the Saintsknow how the poor young lad sped in all the bloody work they havehad. For my part, I felt not bound to hold out the castle against myold lord's side, when there was no saving it for you, so I put whatbelonged to me together, and took poor old Roan, and my young lady'spony, and made my way hither, no one letting me. I doubt me much, lady, that there is little hope of winning back your lands, whateverside may be uppermost, yet there be true hearts among our villeins, who say they will never pay dues to any save their lord's daughter. "

"Then I am landless and homeless, " sighed Grisell. 

"The greater cause that you should make your home with us, lady, "returned Lambert Groot; and he went on to lay before Ridley the stateof the case, and his own plans. House and business, possibly a seatin the city council, were waiting for him at Bruges, and the vesselfrom Ostend which had continually brought him supplies for histraffic was daily expected. He intended, so soon as she had made upher cargo of wool, to return in her to his native country, and he wasurgent that the Lady Grisell should go with him, representing thatall the changes of fortune in the convulsed kingdom of England weresure to be quickly known there, and that she was as near the centreof action in Flanders as in Durham, besides that she would be out ofreach of any enemies who might disbelieve the hare transformation. 

After learning the fate of her castle, Grisell much inclined to theproposal which kept her with those whom she had learnt to trust andlove, and she knew that she need be no burthen to them, since she hadprofitable skill in their own craft, and besides she had her jewels. Ridley, moreover, gave her hopes of a certain portion of her dues onthe herring-boats and the wool. 

"Will not you come with the lady, sir?" asked Lambert. 

"Oh, come!" cried Grisell. 

"Nay, a squire of dames hath scarce been heard of in a Poticar'sshop, " said Ridley, and there was an irresistible laugh at the ruggedold gentleman so terming himself; but as Lambert and Grisell wereboth about to speak he went on, "I can serve her better elsewhere. Iam going first to my home at Willimoteswick. I have not seen itthese forty year, and whether my brother or my nephew make me welcomeor no, I shall have seen the old moors and mosses. Then methought Iwould come hither, or to some of the towns about, and see how itfares with the old Tower and the folk; and if they be as good astheir word, and keep their dues for my lady, I could gather them, andtake or bring them to her, with any other matter which might concernher nearly. "

This was thoroughly approved by Grisell's little council, and Lambertundertook to make known to the good esquire the best means ofcommunication, whether in person, or by the transmission of payments, since all the eastern ports of England had connections with Dutch andFlemish traffic, which made the payment of monies possible. 

Grisell meantime was asking for Thora. Her uncle, Ridley said, hadcome up, laid hands on her, and soundly scourged her for her foulpractices. He had dragged her home, and when Ralph Hart had comeafter her, had threatened him with a quarter-staff, called out a mobof fishermen, and finally had brought him to Sir Lucas, who marriedthem willy-nilly. He was the runaway son of a currier in York, andhad taken her en croupe, and ridden off to his parents at the sign ofthe Hart, to bespeak their favour. 

Grisell grieved deeply over Thora's ingratitude to her, and the twoelder men foreboded no favourable reception for the pair, and hopedthat Thora would sup sorrow. 

Ridley spent the night at the sign of tire Green Serpent, and beforehe set out for Willimoteswick, he confided to Master Groot a bagcontaining a silver cup or two, and a variety of coins, mostlyFrench. They were, he said, spoils of his wars under King Harry theFifth and the two Lord Salisburys, which he had never had occasion tospend, and he desired that they might be laid out on the Lady Grisellin case of need, leaving her to think they were the dues from herfaithful tenantry. To the Hausvrow Clemence it was a great grief toleave the peaceful home of her married life, and go among kindred whohad shown their scorn in neglect and cold looks; but she kept acheerful face for her husband, and only shed tears over the buddingroses and other plants she had to leave; and she made her guestunderstand how great a comfort and solace was her company. 

CHAPTER XXI--THE WOUNDED KNIGHT

Belted Will Howard is marching here, And hot Lord Dacre with many a spear

SCOTT, The Lay of the Last Minstrel. 

"Master Groot, a word with you. " A lay brother in the coarse, darkrobe of St. Benedict was standing in the booth of the Green Serpent. 

Groot knew him for Brother Christopher of Monks Wearmouth, andtouched his brow in recognition. 

"Have you here any balsam fit for a plaguey shot with an arquebuss, the like of which our poor peaceful house never looked to harbour?"

"For whom is it needed, good brother?"

"Best not ask, " said Brother Christopher, who was, however, aninveterate gossip, and went on in reply to Lambert's question as tothe place of the wound. "In the shoulder is the worst, the bulletwound where the Brother Infirmarer has poured in hot oil. St. Bede!How the poor knight howled, though he tried to stop it, and broughtit down to moaning. His leg is broken beside, but we could deal withthat. His horse went down with him, you see, when he was overtakenand shot down by the Gilsland folk. "

"The Gilsland folk!"

"Even so, poor lad; and he was only on his way to see after his own, or his wife's, since all the Whitburn sons are at an end, and theTower gone to the spindle side. They say, too, that the damsel hewedded perforce was given to magic, and fled in form of a hare. Butbe that as it will, young Copeland--St. Bede, pardon me! What have Ilet out?"

"Reck not of that, brother. The tale is all over the town. How ofCopeland?"

"As I said even now, he was on his way to the Tower, when the Dacres--Will and Harry--fell on him, and left him for dead; but by theSaints' good providence, his squire and groom put him on a horse, andbrought him to our Abbey at night, knowing that he is kin to our Sub-Prior. And there he lies, whether for life or death only Heavenknows, but for death it will be if only King Edward gets a scent ofhim; so hold your peace, Master Groats, as to who it be, as you live, or as you would not have his blood on you. "

Master Groats promised silence, and gave numerous directions as tothe application of his medicaments, and Brother Kit took his leave, reiterating assurances that Sir Leonard's life depended on hissecrecy. 

Whatever was said in the booth was plainly audible in the inner room. Grisell and Clemence were packing linen, and the little shutter ofthe wooden partition was open. Thus Lambert found Grisell standingwith clasped hands, and a face of intense attention and suspense. 

"You have heard, lady, " he said. 

"Oh, yea, yea! Alas, poor Leonard!" she cried. 

"The Saints grant him recovery. "

"Methought you would be glad to hear you were like to be free fromsuch a yoke. Were you rid of him, you, of a Yorkist house, might winback your lands, above all, since, as you once told me, you were aplaymate of the King's sister. "

"Ah! dear master, speak not so! Think of him! treacherously wounded, and lying moaning. That gruesome oil! Oh! my poor Leonard!" and sheburst into tears. "So fair, and comely, and young, thus strickendown!"

"Bah!" exclaimed Lambert. "Such are women! One would think sheloved him, who flouted her!"

"I cannot brook the thought of his lying there in sore pain anddolour, he who has had so sad a life, baulked of his true love. "

Master Lambert could only hold up his hands at the perversity ofwomankind, and declare to his Clemence that he verily believed thathad the knight been a true and devoted Tristram himself, ever at herfeet, the lady could not have been so sore troubled. 

The next day brought Brother Kit back with an earnest request fromthe Infirmarer and the Sub-Prior that "Master Groats" would come tothe monastery, and give them the benefit of his advice on the woundsand the fever which was setting in, since gun-shot wounds were beyondthe scope of the monastic surgery. 

To refuse would not have been possible, even without the earnestentreaty of Grisell; and Lambert, who had that medical instinct whichno training can supply, went on his way with the lay brother. 

He came back after many hours, sorely perturbed by the request thathad been made to him. Sir Leonard, he said, was indeed sick nighunto death, grievously hurt, and distraught by the fever, or it mightbe by the blow on his head in the fall with his horse, which seemedto have kicked him; but there was no reason that with good guidanceand rest he should not recover. But, on the other hand, King Edwardwas known to be on his progress to Durham, and he was understood tobe especially virulent against Sir Leonard Copeland, under theimpression that the young knight had assisted in Clifford's slaughterof his brother Edmund of Rutland. It was true that a monastery was asanctuary, but if all that was reported of Edward Plantagenet weretrue, he might, if he tracked Copeland to the Abbey, insist on hisbeing yielded up, or might make Abbot and monks suffer severely forthe protection given to his enemy; and there was much fear that theDacres might be on the scent. The Abbot and Father Copeland wereanxious to be able to answer that Sir Leonard was not within theirprecincts, and, having heard that Master Groats was about to sail forFlanders, the Sub-Prior made the entreaty that his nephew might thusbe conveyed to the Low Countries, where the fugitives of each partyin turn found a refuge. Father Copeland promised to be at charges, and, in truth, the scheme was the best hope for Leonard's chances oflife. Master Groot had hesitated, seeing various difficulties in theway of such a charge, and being by no means disposed towards LadyGrisell's unwilling husband, as such, though in a professionalcapacity he was interested in his treatment of his patient, and waslikewise touched by the good mien of the fine, handsome, straight-limbed young man, who was lying unconscious on his pallet in a narrowcell. 

He had replied that he would answer the next day, when he hadconsulted his wife and the ship-master, whose consent was needful;and there was of course another, whom he did not mention. 

As he told all the colour rose in Grisell's face, rosy on one side, purple, alas, on the other. "O master, good master, you will, youwill!"

"Is it your pleasure, then, mistress? I should have held that thekindness to you would be to rid you of him. "

"No, no, no! You are mocking me! You know too well what I think!Is not this my best hope of making him know me, and becoming his trueand--and--"

A sob cut her short, but she cried, "I will be at all the pains andall the cost, if only you will consent, dear Master Lambert, goodMaster Groot. "

"Ah, would I knew what is well for her!" said Lambert, turning to hiswife, and making rapid signs with face and fingers in their mutuallanguage, but Grisell burst in -

"Good for her, " cried she. "Can it be good for a wife to leave herhusband to be slain by the cruel men of York and Warwick, him whostrove to save the young Lord Edmund? Master, you will suffer nosuch foul wrong. O master, if you did, I would stay behind, in somepoor hovel on the shore, where none would track him, and tend himthere. I will! I vow it to St. Mary. "

"Hush, hush, lady! Cease this strange passion. You could not bemore moved if he were the tenderest spouse who ever breathed. "

"But you will have pity, sir. You will aid us. You will save us. Give him the chance for life. "

"What say you, housewife?" said Groot, turning to the silentClemence, whom his signs and their looks had made to perceive thepoint at issue. Her reply was to seize Grisell's two hands, kissthem fervently, clasp both together, and utter in her deaf voice twoFlemish words, "Goot Vrow. " Grisell eagerly embraced her in tears. 

"We have still to see what Skipper Vrowst says. He may not choose tomeddle with English outlaws. "

"If you cannot win him to take my knight, he will not take me, " saidGrisell. 

There was no more to be said except something about the waywardnessof the affections of women and dogs; but Master Groot was not ill-pleased at the bottom that both the females of the household tookpart against him, and they had a merry supper that night, amid thechests in which their domestic apparatus and stock-in-trade werepacked, with the dried lizard, who passed for a crocodile, sitting onthe settle as if he were one of the company. Grisell's spirits rosewith an undefined hope that, like Sir Gawaine's bride, or her ownnamesake, Griselda the patient, she should at last win her lord'slove; and, deprived as she was of all her own relatives, there arosestrongly within her the affection that ten long years ago had madeher haunt the footsteps of the boy at Amesbury Manor. 

Groot was made to promise to say not a word of her presence in hisfamily. He was out all day, while Clemence worked hard at herdemenagement, and only with scruples accepted the assistance of herguest, who was glad to work away her anxiety in the folding ofcurtains and stuffing of mails. 

At last Lambert returned, having been backwards and forwards manytimes between the Vrow Gudule and the Abbey, for Skipper Vrowst drovea hard bargain, and made the most of the inconvenience and danger ofgetting into ill odour with the authorities; and, however anxiousFather Copeland might be to save his nephew, Abbot and bursardemurred at gratifying extortion, above all when the King might atany time be squeezing them for contributions hard to come by. 

However, it had been finally fixed that a boat should put in to theAbbey steps to receive the fleeces of the sheep-shearing of the homegrange, and that, rolled in one of these fleeces, the wounded knightshould be brought on board the Vrow Gudule, where Groot and the womenwould await him, their freight being already embarked, and all readyto weigh anchor. 

The chief danger was in a King's officer coming on board to weigh thefleeces, and obtaining the toll on them. But Sunderland either hadno King, or had two just at that time, and Father Copeland handedMaster Groot a sum which might bribe one or both; while it was to theinterest of the captain to make off without being overhauled byeither. 

CHAPTER XXII--THE CITY OF BRIDGES

So for long hours sat Enid by her lord, There in the naked hall, propping his head, And chafing his pale hands, and calling to him. And at the last he waken'd from his swoon. 

TENNYSON, Enid. 

The transit was happily effected, and closely hidden in wool, LeonardCopeland was lifted out the boat, more than half unconscious, andafterwards transferred to the vessel, and placed in wrappings assoftly and securely as Grisell and Clemence could arrange before KingEdward's men came to exact their poundage on the freight, but happilydid not concern themselves about the sick man. 

He might almost be congratulated on his semi-insensibility, forthough he suffered, he would not retain the recollection of hissuffering, and the voyage was very miserable to every one, though theweather was far from unfavourable, as the captain declared. Grisellindeed was so entirely taken up with ministering to her knight thatshe seemed impervious to sickness or discomfort. It was a greatrelief to enter on the smooth waters of the great canal from Ostend, and Lambert stood on the deck recognising old landmarks, and pointingthem out with the joy of homecoming to Clemence, who perhaps feltless delight, since the joys of her life had only begun when sheturned her back on her unkind kinsfolk. 

Nor did her face light up as his did while he pointed out to Grisellthe beauteous belfry, rising on high above the many-peaked gables, though she did smile when a long-billed, long-legged stork flappedhis wings overhead, and her husband signed that it was in greeting. The greeting that delighted him she could not hear, the sweet chimesfrom that same tower, which floated down the stream, when he doffedhis cap, crossed himself, and clasped his hands in devoutthanksgiving. 

It was a wonderful scene of bustle; where vessels of all kindsthronged together were drawn up to the wharf, the beautiful tallpainted ships of Venice and Genoa pre-eminent among the stoutly-builtNetherlanders and the English traders. Shouts in all languages wereheard, and Grisell looked round in wonder and bewilderment as to howthe helpless and precious charge on the deck was ever to be safelylanded. 

Lambert, however, was truly at home and equal to the occasion. Hesecured some of the men who came round the vessel in bargesclamouring for employment, and--Grisell scarce knew how--Leonard onhis bed was lifted down, and laid in the bottom of the barge. Thebig bundles and cases were committed to the care of another barge, tofollow close after theirs, and on they went under, one after another, the numerous high-peaked bridges to which Bruges owes its name, whiletall sharp-gabled houses, walls, or sometimes pleasant green gardens, bounded the margins, with a narrow foot-way between. The houses hadoften pavement leading by stone steps to the river, and stone stepsup to the door, which was under the deep projecting eaves runningalong the front of the house--a stoop, as the Low Countries calledit. At one of these--not one of the largest or handsomest, but farsuperior to the old home at Sunderland--hung the large handsomepainted and gilded sign of the same serpent which Grisell had learntto know so well, and here the barge hove to, while two servants, theman in a brown belted jerkin, the old woman in a narrow, tight, whitehood, came out on the steps with outstretched hands. 

"Mein Herr, my dear Master Lambert. Oh, joy! Greet thee well. Thanks to our Lady that I have lived to see this day, " was the oldwoman's cry. 

"Greet thee well, dear old Mother Abra. Greet thee, trusty Anton. You had my message? Have you a bed and chamber ready for thisgentleman?"

Such was Lambert's hasty though still cordial greeting, as he gavehis hand to the man-servant, his cheek to his old nurse, who wasmother to Anton. Clemence in her gentle dumb show shared thewelcome, and directed as Leonard was carried up an outside stonestair to a guest-chamber, and deposited in a stately bed with fresh, cool, lace-bordered, lavender-scented sheets, and Grisell put betweenhis lips a spoonful of the cordial with which Lambert had suppliedher. 

More distinctly than before he murmured, "Thanks, sweet Eleanor. "

The move in the open air had partly revived him, partly made himfeverish, and he continued to murmur complacently his thanks toEleanor for tending her "wounded knight, " little knowing whom hewounded by his thanks. 

On one point this decided Grisell. She looked up at Lambert, andwhen he used her title of "Lady, " in begging her to leave old MotherAbra in charge and to come down to supper, she made a gesture ofsilence, and as she came down the broad stair--a refinement scarceknown in England--she entreated him to let her be Grisell still. 

"Unless he accept me as his wife I will never bear his name, " shesaid. 

"Nay, madame, you are Lady of Whitburn by right. "

"By right, may be, but not in fact, nor could I be known as mine ownself without cumbering him with my claims. No, let me alone to beGrisell as ever before, an English orphan, bower-woman to VrowClemence if she will have me. "

Clemence would not consent to treat her as bower-woman, and it wasagreed that she should remain as one of the many orphans made by thecivil war in England, without precise definition of her rank, and beonly called by her Christian name. She was astonished at the statusof Master Groot, the size and furniture of the house, and theservants who awaited him; all so unlike his little Englishestablishment, for the refinements and even luxuries were not onlyfar beyond those of Whitburn, but almost beyond all that she had seeneven in the households of the Earls of Salisbury and Warwick. He hadindeed been bred to all this, for the burghers of Bruges were some ofthe most prosperous of all the rich citizens of Flanders in thegolden days of the Dukes of Burgundy; and he had left it all for thesake of his Clemence, but without forfeiting his place in his Guild, or his right to his inheritance. 

He was, however, far from being a rich man, on a level with the greatmerchants, though he had succeeded to a modest, not unprosperoustrade in spices, drugs, condiments and other delicacies. 

He fetched a skilful Jewish physician to visit Sir Leonard Copeland, but there was no great difference in the young man's condition formany days. Grisell nursed him indefatigably, sitting by him so as tohear the sweet bells chime again and again, and the storks clatter onthe roofs at sunrise. 

Still, whenever her hand brought him some relief, or she held drinkto his lips, his words and thanks were for Eleanor, and more and moredid the sense sink down upon her like lead that she must give him upto Eleanor. 

Yes, it was like lead, for, as she watched his face on the pillow herlove went out to him. It might have done so even had he beendisfigured like herself; but his was a beautiful countenance of nobleoutlines, and she felt a certain pride in it as hers, while shelonged to see it light up with reason, and glow once more withhealth. Then she thought she could rejoice, even if there were nolook of love for her. 

The eyes did turn towards her again with the mind looking out ofthem, and he knew her for the nurse on whom he depended for comfortand relief. He thanked her courteously, so that she felt a thrill ofpleasure every time. He even learnt her name of Grisell, and once heasked whether she were not English, to which she replied simply thatshe was, and on a further question she said that she had been atSunderland with Master Groot, and that she had lost her home in thecourse of the wars. 

There for some time it rested--rested at least with the knight. Butwith the lady there was far from rest, for every hour she waswatching for some favourable token which might draw them nearer, andgive opportunity for making herself known. Nearer they certainlydrew, for he often smiled at her. He liked her to wait on him, andto beguile the weariness of his recovery by singing to him, tellingsome of her store of tales, or reading to him, for books were moreplentiful at Bruges than at Sunderland, and there were even whispersof a wonderful mode of multiplying them far more quickly than by thescrivener's hand. 

How her heart beat every time she thus ministered to him, or heardhis voice call to her, but it was all, as she could plainly see, justas he would have spoken to Clemence, if she could have heard him, andhe evidently thought her likewise of burgher quality, and much of thesame age as the Vrow Groot. Indeed, the long toil and wear of thepast months had made her thin and haggard, and the traces of herdisaster were all the more apparent, so that no one would haveguessed her years to be eighteen. 

She had taken her wedding-ring from her finger, and wore it on achain, within her kirtle, so as to excite no inquiry. But many anight, ere she lay down, she looked at it, and even kissed it, as sheasked herself whether her knight would ever bid her wear it. Untilhe did so her finger should never again be encircled by it. 

Meantime she scarcely ever went beyond the nearest church and thegarden, which amply compensated Clemence for that which she had leftat Sunderland. Indeed, that had been as close an imitation of thisone as Lambert could contrive in a colder climate with smaller means. Here was a fountain trellised over by a framework rich in roses andour lady's bower; here were pinks, gilly-flowers, pansies, lavender, and the new snowball shrub recently produced at Gueldres, and alittle bush shown with great pride by Anton, the snow-white rosegrown in King Rene's garden of Provence. 

These served as borders to the green walks dividing the beds ofuseful vegetables and fruits and aromatic herbs which the Groots hadlong been in the habit of collecting from all parts and experimentingon. Much did Lambert rejoice to find himself among the familiarplants he had often needed and could not procure in England, and forsome of which he had a real individual love. The big improveddistillery and all the jars and bottles of his youth were a joy tohim, almost as much as the old friends who accepted him again after along "wander year. "

Clemence had her place too, but she shrank from the society she couldnot share, and while most of the burghers' wives spent the summerevening sitting spinning or knitting on the steps of the stoop, conversing with their gossips, she preferred to take her distaff orneedle among the roses, sometimes tending them, sometimes beguilingGrisell to come and take the air in company with her, for theyunderstood one another's mute language; and when Lambert Groot waswith his old friends they sufficed for one another--so far asGrisell's anxious heart could find solace, and perhaps in none somuch as the gentle matron who could caress but could not talk. 

CHAPTER XXIII--THE CANKERED OAK GALL

That Walter was no fool, though that him listTo change his wif, for it was for the best;For she is fairer, so they demen all, Than his Griselde, and more tendre of age. 

CHAUCER, The Clerke's Tale. 

It was on an early autumn evening when the belfry stood out beautifulagainst the sunset sky, and the storks with their young fledglingswere wheeling homewards to their nest on the roof, that Leonard waslying on the deep oriel window of the guest-chamber, and Grisell satopposite to him with a lace pillow on her lap, weaving after thepattern of Wilton for a Church vestment. 

"The storks fly home, " he said. "I marvel whether we have still ahome in England, or ever shall have one!"

"I heard tell that the new King of France is friendly to the Queenand her son, " said Grisell. 

"He is near of kin to them, but he must keep terms with this old Dukewho sheltered him so long. Still, when he is firm fixed on histhrone he may yet bring home our brave young Prince and set theblessed King on his throne once more. "

"Ah! You love the King. "

"I revere him as a saint, and feel as though I drew my sword in aholy cause when I fight for him, " said Leonard, raising himself withglittering eyes. 

"And the Queen?"

"Queen Margaret! Ah! by my troth she is a dame who makes swords flyout of their scabbards by her brave stirring words and her noblemien. Her bright eyes and undaunted courage fire each man's heart inher cause till there is nothing he would not do or dare, ay, or giveup for her, and those she loves better than herself, her husband, andher son. "

"You have done so, " faltered Grisell. 

"Ah! have I not? Mistress, I would that you bore any other name. You mind me of the bane and grief of my life. "

"Verily?" uttered Grisell with some difficulty. 

"Yea! Tell me, mistress, have I ever, when my brains were astray, uttered any name?"

"By times, even so!" she confessed. 

"I thought so! I deemed at times that she was here! I have nevertold you of the deed that marred my life. "

"Nay, " she said, letting her bobbins fall though she drooped herhead, not daring to look him in the face. 

"I was a mere lad, a page in the Earl of Salisbury's house. A goodman was he, but the jealousies and hatreds of the nobles had begunlong ago, and the good King hoped, as he ever hoped, to compose them. So he brought about a compact between my father and the Dacre ofWhitburn for a marriage between their children, and caused us both tobe bred up in the Lady of Salisbury's household, meaning, I trow, that we should enter into solemn contract when we were of less tenderage; but there never was betrothal; and before any fit time for ithad come, I had the mishap to have the maid close to me--she was everbesetting and running after me--when by some prank, unhappily ofmine, a barrel of gunpowder blew up and wellnigh tore her to pieces. My father came, and her mother, an unnurtured, uncouth woman, whowould have forced me to wed her on the spot, but my father would nothear of it, more especially as there were then two male heirs, sothat I should not have gained her grim old Tower and bare moorlands. All held that I was not bound to her; the Queen herself owned it, andthat whatever the damsel might be, the mother was a mere northernshe-bear, whose child none would wish to wed, and of the White Rosebesides. So the King had me to his school at Eton, and then I was asquire of my Lord of Somerset, and there I saw my fairest EleanorAudley. The Queen and the Duke of Somerset--rest his soul--wouldhave had us wedded. On the love day, when all walked together to St. Paul's, and the King hoped all was peace, we spoke our vows to oneanother in the garden of Westminster. She gave me this rook, I gaveher the jewel of my cap; I read her true love in her eyes, like ourlimpid northern brooks. Oh! she was fair, fairer than yonder star inthe sunset, but her father, the Lord Audley, was absent, and we couldgo no farther; and therewith came the Queen's summons to her liegemento come and arrest Salisbury at Bloreheath. There never was restagain, as you know. My father was slain at Northampton, I yielded meto young Falconberg; but I found the Yorkists had set headsmen towork as though we had been traitors, and I was begging for a priestto hear my shrift, when who should come into the foul, wretched barnwhere we lay awaiting the rope, but old Dacre of Whitburn. He hadcraved me from the Duke of York, it seems, and gained my life on whatcondition he did not tell me, but he bound my feet beneath my horse, and thus bore me out of the camp for all the first day. Then, I ownhe let me ride as became a knight, on my word of honour not toescape; but much did I marvel whether it were revenge or ransom thathe wanted; and as to ransom, all our gold had all been riding onhorseback with my poor father. What he had devised I knew not norguessed till late at night we were at his rat-hole of a Tower, whereI looked for a taste of the dungeons; but no such thing. The choicethat the old robber--"

Grisell could not repress a dissentient murmur of indignation. 

"Ah, well, you are from Sunderland, and may know better of him. Butany way the choice he left me was the halter that dangled from theroof and his grisly daughter!"

"Did you see her?" Grisell contrived to ask. 

"I thank the Saints, no. To hear of her was enow. They say she hasa face like a cankered oak gall or a rotten apple lying cracked onthe ground among the wasps. Mayhap though you have seen her. "

Grisell could truly say, in a half-choked voice, "Never since she wasa child, " for no mirror had come in her way since she was at WarwickHouse. She was upborne by the thought that it would be a relief tohim not to see anything like a rotten apple. He went on -

"My first answer and first thought was rather death--and of my wordto my Eleanor. Ah! you marvel to see me here now. I felt as thoughnothing would make me a recreant to her. Her sweet smile and shiningeyes rose up before me, and half the night I dreamt of them, and knewthat I would rather die than be given to another and be false tothem. Ah! but you will deem me a recreant. With the waking hours Ithought of my King and Queen. My elder brother died with LordShrewsbury in Gascony, and after me the next heir is a devotedYorkist who would turn my castle, the key of Cleveland, against theQueen. I knew the defeat would make faithful swords more than everneedful to her, and that it was my bounden duty, if it were possible, to save my life, my sword, and my lands for her. Mistress, you are agood woman. Did I act as a coward?"

"You offered up yourself, " said Grisell, looking up. 

"So it was! I gave my consent, on condition that I should be free atonce. We were wedded in the gloom--ere sunrise--a thunderstormcoming up, which so darkened the church that if she had been apeerless beauty, fair as Cressid herself, I could not have seen her, and even had she been beauty itself, nought can to me be such as myEleanor. So I was free to gallop off through the storm for Wearmouthwhen the rite was over, and none pursued me, for old Whitburn was aman of his word. Mine uncle held the marriage as nought, but next Imade for the Queen at Durham, and, if aught could comfort my spirit, it was her thanks, and assurances that it would cost nothing but thedispensation of the Pope to set me free. So said Dr. Morton, herchaplain, one of the most learned men in England. I told him all, and he declared that no wedlock was valid without the heartfeltconsent of each party. "

"Said he so?" Poor Grisell could not repress the inquiry. 

"Yea, and that though no actual troth had passed between me and LordAudley's daughter, yet that the vows we had of our own free willexchanged would be quite enough to annul my forced marriage. "

"You think it evil in me, the more that it was I who had defaced thatcountenance. I thought of that! I would have endowed her with all Ihad if she would set me free. I trusted yet so to do, when, for mymisfortune as well as hers, the day of Wakefield cut off her fatherand brother, and a groom was taken who was on his way to Sendal withtidings of the other brother's death. Then, what do the Queen andSir Pierre de Breze but command me to ride off instantly to claimWhitburn Tower! In vain did I refuse; in vain did I plead that if Iwere about to renounce the lady it were unknightly to seize on herinheritance. They would not hear me. They said it would serve as adoor to England, and that it must be secured for the King, or theDacres would hold it for York. They bade me on my allegiance, andcommanded me to take it in King Henry's name, as though it were amere stranger's castle, and gave me a crew of hired men-at-arms, as Iverily believe to watch over what I did. But ere I started I made avow in Dr. Morton's hands, to take it only for the King, and so soonas the troubles be ended to restore it to the lady, when our marriageis dissolved. As it fell out, I never saw the lady. Her mother laya-dying, and there was no summoning her. I bade them show her alldue honour, hoisted my pennon, rode on to my uncle at Wearmouth, andthence to mine own lands, whence I joined the Queen on her way toLondon. As you well know, all was over with our cause at TowtonMoor; and it was on my way northward after the deadly fight that halfa dozen of the men-at-arms brought me tidings, not only that theGilsland Dacres had, as had been feared, claimed the castle, but thatthis same so-called lady of mine had been shown to deal in sorceryand magic. They sent for a wise man from Shields, but she found byher arts what they were doing, fled, and was slain by an arquebuss inthe form of a hare!

"Do you believe it was herself in sooth?" asked Grisell. 

"Ah! you are bred by Master Lambert, who, like his kind, hath littlefaith in sorcery, but verily, old women do change into hares. Allhave known them. "

"She was scarce old, " Grisell trusted herself to say. 

"That skills not. They said she made strange cures by no rules ofart. Ay, and said her prayers backward, and had unknown books. "

"Did your squire tell this, or was it only the men?"

"My squire! Poor Pierce, I never saw him. He was made captive by aWhite Rose party, so far as I could hear, and St. Peter knows wherehe may be. But look you, the lady, for all her foul looks, had casther spell over him, and held him as bound and entranced as by a truelove, so that he was ready to defend her beauty--her beauty! lookyou!--against all the world in the lists. He was neither to have norto hold if any man durst utter a word against her! And it was thesame with her tirewoman and her own old squire. "

"Then, sir, you deem that in slaying the hare, the arquebusier ridyou of your witch wife?" There was a little bitterness, even scorn, in the tone. 

"I say not so, mistress. I know men-at-arms too well to credit allthey say, and I was on my way to inquire into the matter and learnthe truth when these same Dacres fell on me; and that I lie here isdue to you and good Master Lambert. Many a woman whose face is illfavoured has learnt to keep up her power by unhallowed arts, and ifit be so with her whom in my boyish prank I have marred, Heavenforgive her and me. If I can ever return I shall strive to trace herlife or death, without which mayhap I could scarce win my truebride. "

Grisell could bear no more of this crushing of her hopes. She creptaway murmuring something about the vesper bell at the convent chapelnear, for it was there that she could best kneel, while thoughts andstrength and resolution came to her. 

The one thing clear to her was that Sir Leonard did not view her, orrather the creature at Whitburn Tower, as his wife, but as a hag, mayhap a sorceress from whom he desired to be released, and that hislove to Eleanor Audley was as strong as ever. 

Should she make herself known and set him free? Nay, but then whatwould become of him? He still needed her care, which he accepted asthat of a nurse, and while he believed himself to be living on themeans supplied by his uncle at Wearmouth to the Apothecary, this hadsoon been exhausted, and Grisell had partly supplied what was wantingfrom Ridley's bag, partly from what the old squire had sent her asthe fishermen's dues; and she was perceiving how to supplement this, or replace it by her own skill, by her assistance to Lambert in hisconcoctions, and likewise by her lace-work, which was of a devicelearnt at Wilton and not known at Bruges. There was somethingstrangely delightful to her in thus supporting Leonard even though heknew it not, and she determined to persist in her present course tillthere was some change. Suppose he heard of Eleanor's marriage tosome one else! Then? But, ah, the cracked apple face. She mustfind a glass, or even a pail of water, and judge! Or the Lancastrianfortunes might revive, he might go home in triumph, and then wouldshe give him her ring and her renunciation, and either earn enough toobtain entrance to a convent or perhaps be accepted for the sake ofher handiwork!

Any way the prospect was dreary, and the affection which grew uponher as Leonard recovered only made it sadder. To reveal herselfwould only be misery to him, and in his present state of mind woulddeprive him of all he needed, since he would never be base enough tolet her toil for him and then cast her off. 

She thought it best, or rather she yearned so much for counsel, thatat night, over the fire in the stove, she told what Leonard had said, to which her host listened with the fatherly sympathy that had grownup towards her. He was quite determined against her making herselfknown. The accusation of sorcery really alarmed him. He said thatto be known as the fugitive heiress of Whitburn who had bewitched theyoung squire and many more might bring both her and himself intoimminent danger; and there were Lancastrian exiles who might take upthe report. Her only safety was in being known, to the few who didmeet her, as the convent-bred maiden whose home had been destroyed, and who was content to gain a livelihood as the assistant whom hiswife's infirmity made needful. As to Sir Leonard, the knight's owngrace and gratitude had endeared him, as well as the professionalpleasure of curing him, and for the lady's sake he should still bemade welcome. 

So matters subsided. No one knew Grisell's story except MasterLambert and her Father Confessor, and whether he really knew it, through the medium of her imperfect French, might be doubted. EvenClemence, though of course aware of her identity, did not know allthe details, since no one who could communicate with her had thoughtit well to distress her with the witchcraft story. 

Few came beyond the open booth, which served as shop, thoughsometimes there would be admitted to walk in the garden and conversewith Master Groot, a young Englishman who wanted his counsel ongiving permanence and clearness to the ink he was using in that newart of printing which he was trying to perfect, but which there weresome who averred to be a work of the Evil One, imparted to themagician Dr. Faustus. 

CHAPTER XXIV--GRISELL'S PATIENCE

When silent were both voice and chords, The strain seemed doubly dear, Yet sad as sweet, --for English words Had fallen upon the ear. 

WORDSWORTH, Incident at Bruges. 

Meanwhile Leonard was recovering and vexing himself as to his futurecourse, inclining chiefly to making his way back to Wearmouth toascertain how matters were going in England. 

One afternoon, however, as he sat close to thine window, whileGrisell sang to him one of her sweet old ballads, a face, attractedby the English words and voice, was turned up to him. He exclaimed, "By St. Mary, Philip Scrope, " and starting up, began to feel for thestick which he still needed. 

A voice was almost at the same moment heard from the outer shopinquiring in halting French, "Did I see the face of the Beau SireLeonard Copeland?"

By the time Leonard had hobbled to the door into the booth, a tallperfectly-equipped man-at-arms, in velvet bonnet with the BurgundianCross, bright cuirass, rich crimson surcoat, and handsome sword belt, had advanced, and the two embraced as old friends did embrace in themiddle ages, especially when each had believed the other dead. 

"I deemed thee dead at Towton!"

"Methought you were slain in the north! You have not come off scot-free. "

"Nay, but I had a narrow escape. My honest fellows took me to myuncle at Wearmouth, and he shipped me off with the good folk here, and cares for my maintenance. How didst thou 'scape?"

"Half a dozen of us--Will Percy and a few more--made off from thewoful field under cover of night, and got to the sea-shore, to avillage--I know not the name--and laid hands on a fisher's smack, which Jock of Hull was seaman enough to steer with the aid of the ladon board, as far as Friesland, and thence we made our way as best wecould to Utrecht, where we had the luck to fall in with one of theDuke's captains, who was glad enough to meet with a few stout fellowsto make up his company of men-at-arms. "

"Oh! Methought it was the Cross of Burgundy. How art thou so wellattired, Phil?"

"We have all been pranked out to guard our Duke to the King ofFrance's sacring at Rheims. I promise thee the jewels and goldblazed as we never saw the like--and as to the rascaille Scotsarchers, every one of them was arrayed so as the sight was enough todrive an honest Borderer crazy. Half their own kingdom's worth wason their beggarly backs. But do what they might, our Duke surpassedthem all with his largesses and splendour. "

"Your Duke!" grumbled Leonard. 

"Aye, mine for the nonce, and a right open-handed lord is he. Betterbe under him than under the shrivelled skinflint of France, who worehis fine robes as though they galled him. Come and take service herewhen thou art whole of thine hurt, Leonard. "

"I thought thy Duke was disinclined to Lancaster. "

"He may be to the Queen and the poor King, whom the Saints guard, buthe likes English hearts and thews in his pay well enough. "

"Thou knowst I am a knight, worse luck. "

"Heed not for thy knighthood. The Duke of Exeter and my Lord ofOxford have put their honours in their pouch and are serving him. Thy lame leg is a worse hindrance than the gold spur on it, but Itrow that will pass. "

The comrades talked on, over the fate of English friends and homes, and the hopelessness of their cause. It was agreed in this, and inmany subsequent visits from Scrope, that so soon as Leonard shouldhave shaken off his lameness he should begin service under one of theDuke's captains. A man-at-arms in the splendid suite of theBurgundian Dukes was generally of good birth, and was attended by twogrooms and a page when in the field; his pay was fairly sufficient, and his accoutrements and arms were required to be such as to dohonour to his employer. It was the refuge sooner or later of many aLancastrian, and Leonard, who doubted of the regularity of hisuncle's supplies, decided that he could do no better for himselfwhile waiting for better times for his Queen, though Master Lamberttold him that he need not distress himself, there were ample meansfor him still. 

Grisell spun and sewed for his outfit, with a strange sad pleasure inworking for him, and she was absolutely proud of him when he stoodbefore her, perfectly recovered, with the glow of health on his cheekand a light in his eye, his length of limb arrayed in his own armour, furbished and mended, his bright helmet alone new and of her ownproviding (out of her mother's pearl necklace), his surcoat andsilken scarf all her own embroidering. As he truly said, he made amuch finer appearance than he had done on the morn of his melancholyknighthood, in the poverty-stricken army of King Henry atNorthampton. 

"Thanks, " he said, with a courteous bow, "to his good friends andhosts, who had a wonderful power over the purse. " He added specialthanks to "Mistress Grisell for her deft stitchery, " and sheresponded with downcast face, and a low courtesy, while her heartthrobbed high. 

Such a cavalier was sure of enlistment, and Leonard came to takeleave of his host, and announced that he had been sent off with hisfriend to garrison Neufchatel, where the castle, being a border one, was always carefully watched over. 

His friends at Bruges rejoiced in his absence, since it prevented hisknowledge of the arrival of his beloved Queen Margaret and her son atSluys, with only seven attendants, denuded of almost everything, having lost her last castles, and sometimes having had to exist on asingle herring a day. 

Perhaps Leonard would have laid his single sword at her feet if hehad known of her presence, but tidings travelled slowly, and beforethey ever reached Neufchatel the Duke had bestowed on her wherewithalto continue her journey to her father's Court at Bar. 

However, he did not move. Indeed be did not hear of the Queen'sjourney to Scotland and fresh attempt till all had been again lost atHedgeley Moor and Hexham. He was so good and efficient a man-at-armsthat he rose in promotion, and attracted the notice of the Count ofCharolais, the eldest son of the Duke, who made him one of his ownbodyguard. His time was chiefly spent in escorting the Count fromone castle or city to another, but whenever Charles the Bold was atBruges, Leonard came to the sign of the Green Serpent not only forlodging, nor only to take up the money that Lambert had in charge forhim, but as to a home where he was sure of a welcome, and of kindlywoman's care of his wardrobe, and where he grew more and more to lookto the sympathy and understanding of his English and Burgundianinterests alike, which he found in the maiden who sat by the hearth. 

From time to time old Ridley came to see her. He was clad in apilgrim's gown and broad hat, and looked much older. He had had freequarters at Willimoteswick, but the wild young Borderers had notsuited his old age well, except one clerkly youth, who reminded himof little Bernard, and who, later, was the patron of his nephew, thefamous Nicolas. He had thus set out on pilgrimage, as the best meansof visiting his dear lady. The first time he came, under his robe hecarried a girdle, where was sewn up a small supply from FatherCopeland for his nephew, and another sum, very meagre, but collectedfrom the faithful retainers of Whitburn for their lady. He meant tovisit the Three Kings at Cologne, and then to go on to St. Gall, andto the various nearer shrines in France, but to return again to seeGrisell; and from time to time he showed his honest face, more andmore weather-beaten, though a pilgrim was never in want; but Griselldelighted in preparing new gowns, clean linen, and fresh hats forhim. 

Public events passed while she still lived and worked in theApothecary's house at Bruges. There were wars in which Sir LeonardCopeland had his share, not very perilous to a knight in full armour, but falling very heavily on poor citizens. Bruges, however, was atpeace and exceedingly prosperous, with its fifty-two guilds ofcitizens, and wonderful trade and wealth. The bells seemed to bealways chiming from its many beautiful steeples, and there was oneconvent lately founded which began to have a special interest forGrisell. 

It was the house of the Hospitalier Grey Sisters, which if notactually founded had been much embellished by Isabel of Portugal, thewife of the Duke of Burgundy. Philip, though called the Good, fromhis genial manners, and bounteous liberality, was a man of violenttemper and terrible severity when offended. He had a fierce quarrelwith his only son, who was equally hot tempered. The Duchess tookpart with her son, and fell under such furious displeasure from herhusband that she retired into the house of Grey Sisters. She wasfirst cousin once removed to Henry VI. --her mother, the admirablePhilippa, having been a daughter of John of Gaunt--and she was thesister of the noble Princes, King Edward of Portugal, Henry the greatvoyager, and Ferdinand the Constant Prince; and she had never beenthoroughly at home or happy in Flanders, where her husband was of afar coarser nature than her own family; and, in her own words, aftermany years, she always felt herself a stranger. 

Some of Grisell's lace had found its way to the convent, and was atonce recognised by her as English, such as her mother had alwaysprized. She wished to give the Chaplain a set of robes adorned withlace after a pattern of her own devising, bringing in the fivecrosses of Portugal, with appropriate wreaths of flowers and emblems. Being told that the English maiden in Master Groot's house coulddevise her own patterns, she desired to see her and explain thedesign in person. 

CHAPTER XXV--THE OLD DUCHESS

Temples that rear their stately heads on high, Canals that intersect the fertile plain, Wide streets and squares, with many a court and hall, Spacious and undefined, but ancient all. 

SOUTHEY, Pilgrimage to Waterloo. 

The kind couple of Groots were exceedingly solicitous about Grisell'sappearance before the Duchess, and much concerned that she could notbe induced to wear the head-gear a foot or more in height, with veilsdepending from the peak, which was the fashion of the Netherlands. Her black robe and hood, permitted but not enjoined in the externalor third Order of St. Francis, were, as usual, her dress, and underit might be seen a face, with something peculiar on one side, butstill full of sweetness and intelligence; and the years of comfortand quiet had, in spite of anxiety, done much to obliterate thelikeness to a cankered oak gall. Lambert wanted to drench her withperfumes, but she only submitted to have a little essence in thepouncet box given her long ago by Lady Margaret at their parting atAmesbury. Master Groot himself chose to conduct her on this firstgreat occasion, and they made their way to the old gateway, sculptured above with figures that still remain, into the greatcloistered court, with its chapel, chapter-house, and splendid greatairy hall, in which the Hospital Sisters received their patients. 

They were seen flitting about, giving a general effect of gray, whence they were known as Soeurs Grises, though, in fact, their dresswas white, with a black hood and mantle. The Duchess, however, livedin a set of chambers on one side of the court, which she had builtand fitted for herself. 

A lay sister became Grisell's guide, and just then, coming down fromthe Duchess's apartments, with a board with a chalk sketch in hishand, appeared a young man, whom Groot greeted as Master HansMemling, and who had been receiving orders, and showing designs tothe Duchess for the ornamentation of the convent, which in lateryears he so splendidly carried out. With him Lambert remained. 

There was a broad stone stair, leading to a large apartment hung withstamped Spanish leather, representing the history of King David, andwith a window, glazed as usual below with circles and lozenges, butthe upper part glowing with coloured glass. At the farther end was adais with a sort of throne, like the tester and canopy of a four-postbed, with curtains looped up at each side. Here the Duchess sat, surrounded by her ladies, all in the sober dress suitable withmonastic life. 

Grisell knew her duty too well not to kneel down when admitted. Adark-complexioned lady came to lead her forward, and directed her tokneel twice on her way to the Duchess. She obeyed, and in thatindescribable manner which betrayed something of her breeding, sothat after her second obeisance, the manner of the lady alteredvisibly from what it had been at first as to a burgher maiden. Thewealth and luxury of the citizen world of the Low Countries causedthe proud and jealous nobility to treat them with the greaterdistance of manner. And, as Grisell afterwards learnt, this wasIsabel de Souza, Countess of Poitiers, a Portuguese lady who had comeover with her Infanta; and whose daughter produced Les Honneurs de laCour, the most wonderful of all descriptions of the formalities ofthe Court. 

Grisell remained kneeling on the steps of the dais, while the Duchessaddressed her in much more imperfect Flemish than she could by thistime speak herself. 

"You are the lace weaver, maiden. Can you speak French?"

"Oui, si madame, son Altese le veut, " replied Grisell, for her tonguehad likewise become accustomed to French in this city of manytongues. 

"This is English make, " said the Duchess, not with a very good Frenchaccent either, looking at the specimens handed by her lady. "Are youEnglish?"

"So please your Highness, I am. "

"An exile?" the Princess added kindly. 

"Yes, madame. All my family perished in our wars, and I owe shelterto the good Apothecary, Master Lambert. "

"Purveyor of drugs to the sisters. Yes, I have heard of him;" andshe then proceeded with her orders, desiring to see the first pieceGrisell should produce in the pattern she wished, which was to be ofroses in honour of St. Elizabeth of Hungary, whom the PeninsularIsabels reckoned as their namesake and patroness. 

It was a pattern which would require fresh pricking out, and muchskill; but Grisell thought she could accomplish it, and took herleave, kissing the Duchess's hand--a great favour to be granted toher--curtseying three times, and walking backwards, after the oldtraining that seemed to come back to her with the atmosphere. 

Master Lambert was overjoyed when he heard all. "Now you will findyour way back to your proper station and rank, " he said. 

"It may do more than that, " said Grisell. "If I could plead hiscause. "

Lambert only sighed. "I would fain your way was not won by a base, mechanical art, " he said. 

"Out on you, my master. The needle and the bobbin are unworthy ofnone; and as to the honour of the matter, what did Sir Leonard tellus but that the Countess of Oxford, as now she is, was maintainingher husband by her needle?" and Grisell ended with a sigh at thoughtof the happy woman whose husband knew of, and was grateful for, hertoils. 

The pattern needed much care, and Lambert induced Hans Memlinghimself, who drew it so that it could be pricked out for the cushion. In after times it might have been held a greater honour to work fromhis pattern than for the Duchess, who sent to inquire after it morethan once, and finally desired that Mistress Grisell should bring hercushion and show her progress. 

She was received with all the same ceremonies as before, and even thesmall fragment that was finished delighted the Princess, who beggedto see her at work. As it could not well be done kneeling, afootstool, covered in tapestry with the many Burgundian quarterings, was brought, and here Grisell was seated, the Duchess bending overher, and asking questions as her fingers flew, at first about thework, but afterwards, "Where did you learn this art, maiden?"

"At Wilton, so please your Highness. The nunnery of St. Edith, nearto Salisbury. "

"St. Edith! I think my mother, whom the Saints rest, spoke of her;but I have not heard of her in Portugal nor here. Where did shesuffer?"

"She was not martyred, madame, but she has a fair legend. "

And on encouragement Grisell related the legend of St. Edith and thechristening. 

"You speak well, maiden, " said the Duchess. "It is easy to perceivethat you are convent trained. Have the wars in England hindered yourbeing professed?"

"Nay, madame; it was the Proctor of the Italian Abbess. "

Therewith the inquiries of the Duchess elicited all Grisell's earlystory, with the exception of her name and whose was the iron thatcaused the explosion, and likewise of her marriage, and theaccusation of sorcery. That male heirs of the opposite party shouldhave expelled the orphan heiress was only too natural an occurrence. Nor did Grisell conceal her home; but Whitburn was an impossible wordto Portuguese lips, and Dacre they pronounced after its crusadingderivation De Acor. 

CHAPTER XXVI--THE DUKE'S DEATH

Wither one Rose, and let the other flourish;If you contend, a thousand lives must wither. 

SHAKESPEARE, King Henry VI. , Part III. 

So time went on, and the rule of the House of York in England seemedestablished, while the exiles had settled down in Burgundy, Grisellto her lace pillow, Leonard to the suite of the Count de Charolais. Indeed there was reason to think that he had come to acquiesce in thechange of dynasty, or at any rate to think it unwise and cruel tobring on another desperate civil war. In fact, many of the Red Roseparty were making their peace with Edward IV. Meanwhile the DuchessIsabel became extremely fond of Grisell, and often summoned her tocome and work by her side, and talk to her; and thus came on thesummer of 1467, when Duke Philip returned from the sack of unhappyDinant in a weakened state, and soon after was taken fatally ill. All the city of Bruges watched in anxiety for tidings, for the kindlyDuke was really loved where his hand did not press. One eveningduring the suspense when Master Lambert was gone out to gathertidings, there was the step with clank of spurs which had grownfamiliar, and Leonard Copeland strode in hot and dusty, greeting VrowClemence as usual with a touch of the hand and inclination of thehead, and Grisell with hand and courteous voice, as he threw himselfon the settle, heated and weary, and began with tired fingers tounfasten his heavy steel cap. 

Grisell hastened to help him, Clemence to fetch a cup of coolingRhine wine. "There, thanks, mistress. We have ridden all day fromGhent, in the heat and dust, and after all the Count got before us. "

"To the Duke?"

"Ay! He was like one demented at tidings of his father's sickness. Say what they will of hot words and fierce passages between them, that father and son have hearts loving one another truly. "

"It is well they should agree at the last, " said Grisell, "or theCount will carry with him the sorest of memories. "

And indeed Charles the Bold was on his knees beside the bed of hisspeechless father in an agony of grief. 

Presently all the bells in Bruges began to clash out their warningthat a soul was passing to the unseen land, and Grisell made signs toClemence, while Leonard lifted himself upright, and all breathed thesame for the mighty Prince as for the poorest beggar, theintercession for the dying. Then the solemn note became a knell, andtheir prayer changed to the De Profundis, "Out of the depths. "

Presently Lambert Groot came in, grave and saddened, with theintelligence that Philip the Good had departed in peace, with hiswife and son on either side of him, and his little granddaughterkneeling beside the Duchess. 

There was bitter weeping all over Bruges, and soon all over Flandersand the other domains united under the Dukedom of Burgundy, forthough Philip had often deeply erred, he had been a fair ruler, balancing discordant interests justly, and maintaining peace, whileall that was splendid or luxurious prospered and throve under him. There was a certain dread of the future under his successor. 

"A better man at heart, " said Leonard, who had learnt to love theCount de Charolais. "He loathes the vices and revelry that havestained the Court. "

"That is true, " said Lambert. "Yet he is a man of violence, and withnone of the skill and dexterity with which Duke Philip steered hiscourse. "

"A plague on such skill, " muttered Leonard. "Caring solely for hisown gain, not for the right!"

"Yet your Count has a heavy hand, " said Lambert. "Witness Dinant!unhappy Dinant. "

"The rogues insulted his mother, " said Leonard. "He offered themterms which they would not have in their stubborn pride! But speaknot of that! I never saw the like in England. There we strike atthe great, not at the small. Ah well, with all our wars and troublesEngland was the better place to live in. Shall we ever see it more?"

There was something delightful to Grisell in that "we, " but she madeanswer, "So far as I hear, there has been quiet there for the lasttwo years under King Edward. "

"Ay, and after all he has the right of blood, " said Leonard. "OurKing Henry is a saint, and Queen Margaret a peerless dame of romance, but since I have come to years of understanding I have seen that theyneither had true claim of inheritance nor power to rule a realm. "

"Then would you make your peace with the White Rose?"

"The rose en soleil that wrought us so much evil at Mortimer's Cross?Methinks I would. I never swore allegiance to King Henry. My fatherwas still living when last I saw that sweet and gracious countenancewhich I must defend for love and reverence' sake. "

"And he knighted you, " said Grisell. 

"True, " with a sharp glance, as if he wondered how she was aware ofthe fact; "but only as my father's heir. My poor old house andtenants! I would I knew how they fare; but mine uncle sends me noletters, though he does supply me. "

"Then you do not feel bound in honour to Lancaster?" said Grisell. 

"Nay; I did not stir or strive to join the Queen when last she calledup the Scots--the Scots indeed!--to aid her. I could not join themin a foray on England. I fear me she will move heaven and earthagain when her son is of age to bear arms; but my spirit risesagainst allies among Scots or French, and I cannot think it well tobring back bloodshed and slaughter. "

"I shall pray for peace, " said Grisell. All this was happiness toher, as she felt that he was treating her with confidence. Would sheever be nearer to him?

He was a graver, more thoughtful man at seven and twenty than he hadbeen at the time of his hurried marriage, and had conversed with menof real understanding of the welfare of their country. Such talks asthese made Grisell feel that she could look up to him as most trulyher lord and guide. But how was it with the fair Eleanor, andwhither did his heart incline? An English merchant, who came forspices, had said that the Lord Audley had changed sides, and it wasthus probable that the damsel was bestowed in marriage to a Yorkist;but there was no knowing, nor did Grisell dare to feel her way todiscovering whether Leonard knew, or felt himself still bound toconstancy, outwardly and in heart. 

Every one was taken up with the funeral solemnities of Duke Philip;he was to be finally interred with his father and grandfather in thegrand tombs at Dijon, but for the present the body was to be placedin the Church of St. Donatus at Bruges, at night. 

Sir Leonard rode at a foot's pace in the troop of men-at-arms, all infull armour, which glanced in the light of the sixteen hundredtorches which were borne before, behind, and in the midst of theprocession, which escorted the bier. Outside the coffin, arrayed inducal coronet and robes, with the Golden Fleece collar round theneck, lay the exact likeness of the aged Duke, and on shields aroundthe pall, as well as on banners borne waving aloft, were the armorialbearings of all his honours, his four dukedoms, seven counties, lordships innumerable, besides the banners of all the guilds carriedto do him honour. 

More than twenty prelates were present, and shared in the mass, whichbegan in the morning hour, and in the requiem. The heralds of allthe domains broke their white staves and threw them on the bier, proclaiming that Philip, lord of all these lands, was deceased. Then, as in the case of royalty, Charles his son was proclaimed; andthe organ led an acclamation of jubilee from all the assembly whichfilled the church, and a shout as of thunder arose, "Vivat Carolus. "

Charles knelt meanwhile with hands clasped over his brow, silent, immovable. Was he crushed at thought of the whirlwinds of passionthat had raged between him and the father whom he had loved all thetime? or was there on him the weight of a foreboding that he, thoughfree from the grosser faults of his father, would never win and keephearts in the same manner, and that a sad, tumultuous, troubledcareer and piteous, untimely end lay before him?

His mother, Grisell's Duchess, according to the rule of the Court, lay in bed for six weeks--at least she was bound to lie therewhenever she was not in entire privacy. The room and bed were hungwith black, but a white covering was over her, and she was fullydressed in the black and white weeds of royal widowhood. The lightof day was excluded, and hosts of wax candles burnt around. 

Grisell did not see her during this first period of stately mourning, but she heard that the good lady had spent her time in weeping andpraying for her husband, all the more earnestly that she had littlecause personally to mourn him. 

CHAPTER XXVII--FORGET ME NOT

 And added, of her wit, A border fantasy of branch and flower, And yellow-throated nestling in the nest. 

TENNYSON, Elaine. 

The Duchess Isabel sent for Grisell as soon as the rules of etiquettepermitted, and her own mind was free, to attend to the suite of lacehangings, with which much progress had been made in the interval. She was in the palace now, greatly honoured, for her son loved herwith devoted affection, and Grisell had to pass through tapestry-hunghalls and chambers, one after another, with persons in mourning, allfilled with men-at-arms first, then servants still in black dresses. Next pages and squires, knights of the lady, and lastly ladies inblack velvet, who sat at their work, with a chaplain reading to them. One of these, the Countess of Poitiers, whom Grisell had known at theGrey Sisters' convent, rose, graciously received her obeisance, andconducted her into the great State bedroom, likewise very sombre, with black hangings worked and edged, however, with white, and thewindow was permitted to let in the light of day. The bed was raisedon steps in an alcove, and was splendidly draped and covered withblack embroidered with white, but the Duchess did not occupy it. Acurtain was lifted, and she came forward in her deepest robes ofwidowhood, leading her little granddaughter Mary, a child of eight ornine years old. Grisell knelt to kiss the hands of each, and theDuchess said -

"Good Griselda, it is long since I have seen you. Have you finishedthe border?"

"Yes, your Highness; and I have begun the edging of the corporal. "

The Duchess looked at the work with admiration, and bade the littleMary, the damsel of Burgundy, look on and see how the dainty web waswoven, while she signed the maker to seat herself on a step of thealcove. 

When the child's questions and interest were exhausted, and she beganto be somewhat perilously curious about the carved weights of thebobbins, her grandmother sent her to play with the ladies in theante-room, desiring Grisell to continue the work. After a few kindlywords the Duchess said, "The poor child is to have a stepdame so soonas the year of mourning is passed. May she be good to her! Hath therumour thereof reached you in the city, Maid Griselda, that my son isin treaty with your English King, though he loves not the house ofYork? But princely alliances must be looked for in marriage. "

"Madge!" exclaimed Grisell; then colouring, "I should say the LadyMargaret of York. "

"You knew her?"

"Oh! I knew her. We loved each other well in the Lord ofSalisbury's house! There never was a maid whom I knew or loved likeher!"

"In the Count of Salisbury's house, " repeated the Duchess. "Were youthere as the Lady Margaret's fellow-pupil?" she said, as thoughperceiving that her lace maker must be of higher quality than she hadsupposed. 

"It was while my father was alive, madame, and before her father hadfixed his eyes on the throne, your Highness. "

"And your father was, you said, the knight De--De--D'Acor. "

"So please you, madame, " said Grisell kneeling, "not to mention mypoor name to the lady. "

"We are a good way from speech of her, " said the Duchess smiling. "Our year of doole must pass, and mayhap the treaty will not hold inthe meantime. The King of France would fain hinder it. But if theDemoiselle loved you of old would she not give you preferment in hertrain if she knew?"

"Oh! madame, I pray you name me not till she be here! There is muchthat hangs on it, more than I can tell at present, without doingharm; but I have a petition to prefer to her. "

"An affair of true love, " said the Duchess smiling. 

"I know not. Oh! ask me not, madame!"

When Grisell was dismissed, she began designing a pattern, in whichin spray after spray of rich point, she displayed in the purefrostwork-like web, the Daisy of Margaret, the Rose of York, andmoreover, combined therewith, the saltire of Nevil and the threescallops of Dacre, and each connected with ramifications of theforget-me-not flower shaped like the turquoises of her pouncet box, and with the letter G to be traced by ingenious eyes, though theuninitiated might observe nothing. 

She had plenty of time, though the treaty soon made it as much of acertainty as royal betrothals ever were, but it was not till Julycame round again that Bruges was in a crisis of the fever ofpreparation to receive the bride. Sculptors, painters, carvers weredesperately at work at the Duke's palace. Weavers, tapestry-workers, embroiderers, sempstresses were toiling day and night, armourers andjewellers had no rest, and the bright July sunshine lay glittering onthe canals, graceful skiffs, and gorgeous barges, and bringing out infull detail the glories of the architecture above, the tapestry-hungwindows in the midst, the gaily-clad Vrows beneath, while the bellsrang out their merriest carillons from every steeple, whencefluttered the banners of the guilds. 

The bride, escorted by Sir Antony Wydville, was to land at Sluys, andDuchess Isabel, with little Mary, went to receive her. 

"Will you go with me as one of my maids, or as a tirewomanperchance?" asked the Duchess kindly. 

Grisell fell on her knee and thanked her, but begged to be permittedto remain where she was until the bride should have some leisure. And indeed her doubts and suspense grew more overwhelming. As shefreshly trimmed and broidered Leonard's surcoat and sword-belt, sheheard one of the many gossips who delighted to recount the members ofthe English suite as picked up from the subordinates of the heraldsand pursuivants who had to marshal the procession and order thebanquet. "Fair ladies too, " he said, "from England. There is theLord Audley's daughter with her father. They say she is the verypearl of beauties. We shall see whether our fair dames do notsurpass her. "

"The Lord Audley's daughter did you say?" asked Grisell. 

"His daughter, yea; but she is a widow, bearing in her lozenge, perpale with Audley, gules three herrings haurient argent, forHeringham. She is one of the Duchess Margaret's dames-of-honour. "

To Grisell it sounded like her doom on one side, the crisis of herself-sacrifice, and the opening of Leonard's happiness on the other. 

CHAPTER XXVIII--THE PAGEANT

When I may read of tilts in days of old, And tourneys graced by chieftains of renown, Fair dames, grave citoyens, and warriors bold - If fancy would pourtray some stately town, Which for such pomp fit theatre would be, Fair Bruges, I shall then remember thee. 

SOUTHEY, Pilgrimage to Waterloo. 

Leonard Copeland was in close attendance on the Duke, and could notgive a moment to visit his friends at the Green Serpent, so thatthere was no knowing how the presence of the Lady of Heringhamaffected him. Duke Charles rode out to meet his bride at the littletown of Damme, and here the more important portions of the betrothalceremony took place, after which he rode back alone to the Cour desPrinces, leaving to the bride all the splendour of the entrance. 

The monastic orders were to be represented in the procession. TheGrey Sisters thought they had an especial claim, and devised thepresenting a crown of white roses at the gates, and with greatpleasure Grisell contributed the best of Master Lambert's lovelywhite Provence roses to complete the garland, which was carried bythe youngest novice, a fair white rosebud herself. 

Every one all along the line of the tall old houses was hanging fromwindow to window rich tapestries of many dyes, often with gold andsilver thread. The trades and guilds had renewed their signs, banners and pennons hung from every abode entitled to their use, garlands of bright flowers stretched here and there and everywhere. All had been in a frenzy of preparation for many days past, and thefinal touches began with the first hours of light in the long, summermorning. To Grisell's great delight, Cuthbert Ridley plodded in atthe hospitable door of the Green Serpent the night before. "Ah! myladybird, " said he, "in good health as ever. "

"All the better for seeing you, mine old friend, " she cried. "Ithought you were far away at Compostella. "

"So verily I was. Here's St. James's cockle to wit--Santiago as theycall him there, and show the stone coffin he steered across the sea. No small miracle that! And I've crossed France, and looked at many afield of battle of the good old times, and thought and said a prayerfor the brave knights who broke lances there. But as I was makingfor St. Martha's cave in Provence, I met a friar, who told me of thegoodly gathering there was like to be here; and I would fain seewhether I could hap upon old friends, or at any rate hear a smack ofour kindly English tongue, so I made the best of my way hither. "

"In good time, " said Lambert. "You will take the lady and thehousewife to the stoop at Master Caxton's house, where he haspromised them seats whence they may view the entrance. I myself ambound to walk with my fellows of the Apothecaries' Society, and itwill be well for them to have another guard in the throng, besidesold Anton. "

"Nay, but my garb scarce befits the raree show, " said Ridley, lookingat his russet gown. 

"We will see to that anon, " said Lambert; and ere supper was over, old Anton had purveyed a loose blue gown from the neighbouringmerchants, with gold lace seams and girdle, peaked boots, and thehideous brimless hat which was then highly fashionable. Ridley'strusty sword he had always worn under his pilgrim's gown, and withthe dagger always used as a knife, he made his appearance once moreas a squire of degree, still putting the scallop into his hat, inhonour of Dacre as well as of St. James. 

The party had to set forth very early in the morning, slowly glidingalong several streets in a barge, watching the motley crowdsthronging banks and bridges--a far more brilliant crowd than in theselater centuries, since both sexes were alike gay in plumage. Fromevery house, even those out of the line of the procession, hungtapestry, or coloured cloths, and the garlands of flowers, of allbright lines, with their fresh greenery, were still unfaded by theclear morning sun, while joyous carillons echoed and re-echoed fromthe belfry and all the steeples. Ridley owned that he had never seenthe like since King Harry rode home from Agincourt--perhaps hardlyeven then, for Bruges was at the height of its splendour, as were theBurgundian Dukes at the very climax of their magnificence. 

After landing from the barge Ridley, with Grisell on his arm, andAnton with his mistress, had a severe struggle with the crowd beforethey gained the ascent of the stoop, where the upper steps had beenrailed in, and seats arranged under the shelter of the projectingroof. 

Master Caxton was a gray-eyed, thin-cheeked, neatly-made Kentishman, who had lived long abroad, and was always ready to make an Englishmanwelcome. He listened politely to Grisell's introduction of MasterRidley, exchanged silent greetings with Vrow Clemence, and insistedon their coming into the chamber within, where a repast of coldpasty, marchpane, strawberries, and wine, awaited them--to be eatenwhile as yet there was nothing to see save the expectant multitudes. 

Moreover, he wanted to show Mistress Grisell, as one of the few whocared for it, the manuscripts he had collected on the history of Troytown, and likewise the strange machine on which he was experimentingfor multiplying copies of the translation he had in hand, with blocksfor the woodcuts which Grisell could not in conscience say would beas beautiful as the gorgeous illuminations of his books. 

Acclamations summoned them to the front, of course at first to seeonly scattered bodies of the persons on the way to meet the bride atthe gate of St. Croix. 

By and by, however, came the "gang, " as Ridley called it, in earnest. Every body of ecclesiastics was there: monks and friars, black, white, and gray; nuns, black, white, and blue; the clergy in theirrichest robes, with costly crucifixes of gold, silver, and ivory heldaloft, and reliquaries of the most exquisite workmanship, sparklingwith precious jewels, diamond, ruby, emerald, and sapphire flashingin the sun; the fifty-two guilds in gowns, each headed by theirMaster and their banner, gorgeous in tint, but with homely devices, such as stockings, saw and compasses, weavers' shuttles, and thelike. Master Lambert looked up and nodded a smile from beneath abanner with Apollo and the Python, which Ridley might be excused fortaking for St. Michael and the Dragon. The Mayor in scarlet, whitefur and with gold collar, surrounded by his burgomasters in almostequally radiant garments, marched on. 

Next followed the ducal household, trumpets and all sorts ofinstruments before them, making the most festive din, through whichcame bursts of the joy bells. Violet and black arrayed theinferiors, setting off the crimson satin pourpoints of the higherofficers, on whose brimless hats each waved with a single ostrichplume in a shining brooch. 

Then came more instruments, and a body of gay green archers; nextheralds and pursuivants, one for each of the Duke's domains, glittering back and front in the tabard of his county's armorialbearings, and with its banner borne beside him. Then a division ofthe Duke's bodyguard, all like himself in burnished armour withscarves across them. The nobles of Burgundy, Flanders, Hainault, Holland, and Alsace, the most splendid body then existing, came inendless numbers, their horses, feather-crested as well as themselves, with every bridle tinkling with silver bells, and the animalsinvisible all but their heads and tails under their magnificenthousings, while the knights seemed to be pillars of radiance. Yeteven more gorgeous were the knights of the Golden Fleece, who leftbetween them a lane in which moved six white horses, caparisoned incloth of gold, drawing an open litter in which sat, as on a throne, herself dazzling in cloth of silver, the brown-eyed Margaret of old, her dark hair bride fashion flowing on her shoulders, and around it amarvellously-glancing diamond coronet, above it, however, the wreathof white roses, which her own hands had placed there when presentedby the novice. Clemence squeezed Grisell's hand with delight as sherecognised her own white rose, the finest of the garland. 

Immediately after the car came Margaret's English attendants, thestately, handsome Antony Wydville riding nearest to her, and then abevy of dames and damsels on horseback, but moving so slowly thatGrisell had full time to discover the silver herrings on thecaparisons of one of the palfreys, and then to raise her eyes to theface of the tall stately lady whose long veil, flowing down from hertowered head-gear, by no means concealed a beautiful complexion andfair perfect features, such as her own could never have rivalled evenif they had never been defaced. Her heart sank within her, everything swam before her eyes, she scarcely saw the white doves letloose from the triumphant arch beyond to greet the royal lady, andwas first roused by Ridley's exclamation as the knights with theirattendants began to pass. 

"Ha! the lad kens me! 'Tis Harry Featherstone as I live. "

Much more altered in these seven years than was Cuthbert Ridley, there rode as a fully-equipped squire in the rear of a splendidknight, Harry Featherstone, the survivor of the dismal Bridge ofWakefield. He was lowering his lance in greeting, but there was noknowing whether it was to Ridley or to Grisell, or whether herecognised her, as she wore her veil far over her face. 

This to Grisell closed the whole. She did not see the figure whichwas more to her than all the rest, for he was among the knights andguards waiting at the Cour des Princes to receive the bride when thefinal ceremonies of the marriage were to be performed. 

Ridley declared his intention of seeking out young Featherstone, butGrisell impressed on him that she wished to remain unknown for thepresent, above all to Sir Leonard Copeland, and he had been quitesufficiently alarmed by the accusations of sorcery to believe in thedanger of her becoming known among the English. 

"More by token, " said he, "that the house of this Master Caxton asyou call him seems to me no canny haunt. Tell me what you will ofmaking manifold good books or bad, I'll never believe but that Dr. Faustus and the Devil hatched the notion between them for thebewilderment of men's brains and the slackening of their hands. "

Thus Ridley made little more attempt to persuade his young lady tocome forth to the spectacles of the next fortnight to which herushed, through crowds and jostling, to behold, with the ardour of anold warrior, the various tilts and tourneys, though he grumbled thatthey were nothing but child's play and vain show, no earnest in themfit for a man. 

Clemence, however, was all eyes, and revelled in the sight of thewonders, the view of the Tree of Gold, and the champion thereof inthe lists of the Hotel de Ville, and again, some days later, of thebanquet, when the table decorations were mosaic gardens with silvertrees, laden with enamelled fruit, and where, as an interlude, awhale sixty feet long made its entrance and emitted from its jaws atroop of Moorish youths and maidens, who danced a saraband to thesound of tambourines and cymbals! Such scenes were bliss to the deafhousewife, and would enliven the silent world of her memory all therest of her life. 

The Duchess Isabel had retired to the Grey Sisters, such scenes beinginappropriate to her mourning, and besides her apartments beingneeded for the influx of guests. There, in early morning, before therevels began, Grisell ventured to ask for an audience, and waspermitted to follow the Duchess when she returned from mass to herown apartments. 

"Ah! my lace weaver. Have you had your share in the revels andpageantries?"

"I saw the procession, so please your Grace. "

"And your old playmate in her glory?"

"Yea, madame. It almost forestalled the glories of Heaven!"

"Ah! child, may the aping of such glory beforehand not unfit us forthe veritable everlasting glories, when all these things shall be nomore. "

The Duchess clasped her hands, almost as a foreboding of the day whenher son's corpse should lie, forsaken, gashed, and stripped, besidethe marsh. 

But she turned to Grisell asking if she had come with any petition. 

"Only, madame, that it would please your Highness to put into thehands of the new Duchess herself, this offering, without naming me. "

She produced her exquisite fabric, which was tied with ribbons ofblue and silver in an outer case, worked with the White Rose. 

The Dowager-Duchess exclaimed, "Nay, but this is more beauteous thanall you have wrought before. Ah! here is your own device! I seethere is purpose in these patterns of your web. And am I not to nameyou?"

"I pray your Highness to be silent, unless the Duchess should divinethe worker. Nay, it is scarce to be thought that she will. "

"Yet you have put the flower that my English mother called 'Forget-me-not. ' Ah, maiden, has it a purpose?"

"Madame, madame, ask me no questions. Only remember in your prayersto ask that I may do the right, " said Grisell, with clasped hands andweeping eyes. 

CHAPTER XXIX--DUCHESS MARGARET

I beheld the pageants splendid, that adorned those days of old;Stately dames, like queens attended, knights who bore the Fleece ofGold. 

LONGFELLOW, The Belfry of Bruges. 

In another week the festivities were over, and she waited anxiously, dreading each day more and more that her gift had been forgotten ormisunderstood, or that her old companion disdained or refused to takenotice of her; then trying to console herself by remembering themanifold engagements and distractions of the bride. 

Happily, Grisell thought, Ridley was absent when Leonard Copelandcame one evening to supper. He was lodged among the guards of theDuke in the palace, and had much less time at his disposal thanformerly, for Duke Charles insisted on the most strict order anddiscipline among all his attendants. Moreover, there were tokens ofenmity on the part of the French on the border of the Somme, andLeonard expected to be despatched to the camp which was being formedthere. He was out of spirits. The sight and speech of so many ofhis countrymen had increased the longing for home. 

"I loathe the mincing French and the fat Flemish tongues, " he owned, when Master Lambert was out of hearing. "I should feel at home if Icould but hear an honest carter shout 'Woa' to his horses. "

"Did you have any speech with the ladies?" asked Grisell. 

"I? No! What reck they of a poor knight adventurer?"

"Methought all the chivalry were peers, and that a belted knight wasa comrade for a king, " said Grisell. 

"Ay, in the days of the Round Table; but when Dukes and Counts, andgreat Marquesses and Barons swarm like mayflies by a trout stream, what chance is there that a poor, landless exile will have a word ora glance?"

Did this mean that the fair Eleanor had scorned him? Grisell longedto know, but for that very reason she faltered when about to ask, andturned her query into one whether he had heard any news of hisEnglish relations. 

"My good uncle at Wearmouth hath been dead these four years--so faras I can gather. Amply must he have supplied Master Groot. I mustaccount with him. For mine inheritance I can gather nothing clearly. I fancy the truth is that George Copeland, who holds it, is littlebetter than a reiver on either side, and that King Edward might grantit back to me if I paid my homage, save that he is sworn never topardon any who had a share in the death of his brother of Rutland. "

"You had not! I know you had not!"

"Hurt Ned? I'd as soon have hurt my own brother! Nay, I got thisblow from Clifford for coming between, " said he, pushing back hishair so as to show a mark near his temple. "But how did you know?"

"Harry Featherstone told me. " She had all but said, "My father'ssquire. "

"You knew Featherstone? Belike when he was at Whitburn. He is herenow; a good man of his hands, " muttered Leonard. "Anyway the Kingbelieves I had a hand in that cruel business of Wakefield Bridge, andnought but his witness would save my neck if once I ventured intoEngland--if that would. So I may resign myself to be the Duke'scaptain of archers for the rest of my days. Heigh ho! And a lonelyman; I fear me in debt to good Master Lambert, or may be to MistressGrisell, to whom I owe more than coin will pay. Ha! was that--"interrupting himself, for a trumpet blast was ringing out atintervals, the signal of summons to the men-at-arms. Leonard startedup, waved farewell, and rushed off. 

The summons proved to be a call to the men-at-arms to attend the Dukeearly the next morning on an expedition to visit his fortresses inPicardy, and as the household of the Green Serpent returned frommass, they heard the tramp and clatter, and saw the armour flash inthe sun as the troop passed along the main street, and became visibleat the opening of that up which they walked. 

The next day came a summons from the convent of the Grey Sisters thatMistress Griselda was to attend the Duchess Isabel. 

She longed to fly through the air, but her limbs trembled. Indeed, she shook so that she could not stand still nor walk slowly. Shehurried on so that the lay sister who had been sent for her was quiteout of breath, and panted after her within gasps of "Stay! stay, mistress! No bear is after us! She runs as though a mad ox had gotloose!"

Her heart was wild enough for anything! She might have to hear fromher kind Duchess that all was vain and unnoticed. 

Up the stair she went, to the accustomed chamber, where an additionalchair was on the dais under the canopy, the half circle of ladies asusual, but before she had seen more with her dazzled, swimming eyes, even as she rose from her first genuflection, she found herself in apair of soft arms, kisses rained on her cheeks and brow, and therewas a tender cry in her own tongue of "My Grisell! my dear oldGrisell! I have found you at last! Oh! that was good in you. Iknew the forget-me-nots, and all your little devices. Ah!" asGrisell, unable to speak for tears of joy, held up the pouncet box, the childish gift. 

The soft pink velvet bodice girdled and clasped with diamonds waspressed to her, the deep hanging silken sleeves were round her, thewhite satin broidered skirt swept about her feet, the pearl-edgedmatronly cap on the youthful head leant fondly against her, asMargaret led her up, still in her embrace, and cried, "It is she, itis she! Dear belle mere, thanks indeed for bringing us together!"

The Countess of Poitiers looked on scandalised at Englishimpulsiveness, and the elder Duchess herself looked for a momentstiff, as her lace-maker slipped to her knees to kiss her hand andmurmur her thanks. 

"Let me look at you, " cried Margaret. "Ah! have you recovered thatterrible mishap? By my troth, 'tis nearly gone. I should never havefound it out had I not known!"

This was rather an exaggeration, but joy did make a good deal ofdifference in Grisell's face, and the Duchess Margaret was one of themost eager and warm-hearted people living, fervent alike in love andin hate, ready both to act on slight evidence for those whose causeshe took up, and to nourish bitter hatred against the enemies of herhouse. 

"Now, tell me all, " she continued in English. "I heard that you hadbeen driven out of Wilton, and my uncle of Warwick had sped younorthward. How is it that you are here, weaving lace like anymechanical sempstress? Nay, nay! I cannot listen to you on yourknees. We have hugged one another too often for that. "

Grisell, with the elder Duchess's permission, seated herself on thecushion at Margaret's feet. "Speak English, " continued the bride. "I am wearying already of French! Ma belle mere, you will not findfault. You know a little of our own honest tongue. "

Duchess Isabel smiled, and Grisell, in answer to the questions ofMargaret, told her story. When she came to the mention of hermarriage to Leonard Copeland, there was the vindictive exclamation, "Bound to that blood-thirsty traitor! Never! After the way hetreated you, no marvel that he fell on my sweet Edmund!"

"Ah! madame, he did not! He tried to save him. "

"He! A follower of King Henry! Never!"

"Truly, madame! He had ever loved Lord Edmund. He strove to stayLord Clifford's hand, and threw himself between, but Clifford dashedhim aside, and he bears still the scar where he fell against theparapet of the bridge. Harry Featherstone told me, when he fled fromthe piteous field, where died my father and brother Robin. "

"Your brother, Robin Dacre! I remember him. I would have made himgood cheer for your sake, but my mother was ever strict, and rappedour fingers, nay, treated us to the rod, if we ever spake to any ofmy father's meine. Tell on, Grisell, " as her hand found its wayunder the hood, and stroked the fair hair. "Poor lonely one!"

Her indignation was great when she heard of Copeland's love, andstill more of his mission to seize Whitburn, saying, truly enough, that he should have taken both lady and Tower, or given both up, andlending a most unwilling ear to the plea that he had never thoughthis relations to Grisell binding. She had never loved LadyHeringham, and it was plainly with good cause. 

Then followed the rest of the story, and when it appeared thatGrisell had been instrumental in saving Copeland, and close inquirieselicited that she had been maintaining him all this while, actuallyfor seven years, all unknown to him, the young Duchess could notcontain herself. "Grisell! Grisell of patience indeed. Belle mere, belle mere, do you understand?" and in rapid French she recountedall. 

"He is my husband, " said Grisell simply, as the two Duchesses showedtheir wonder and admiration. 

"Never did tale or ballad show a more saintly wife, " cried Margaret. "And now what would you have me do for you, my most patient ofGrisells? Write to my brother the King to restore your lands, and--and I suppose you would have this recreant fellow's given back sinceyou say he has seen the error of following that make-bate Queen. Butcan you prove him free of Edmund's blood? Aught but that might beforgiven. "

"Master Featherstone is gone back to England, " said Grisell, "but hecan bear witness; but my father's old squire, Cuthbert Ridley, ishere, who heard his story when he came to us from Wakefield. Moreover, I have seen the mark on Sir Leonard's brow. "

"Let be. I will write to Edward an you will. He has been more proneto Lancaster folk since he was caught by the wiles of Lady Grey; butI would that I could hear what would clear this knight of yours byother testimony than such as your loving heart may frame. But youmust come and be one of mine, my own ladies, Grisell, and never goback to your Poticary--Faugh!"

This, however, Grisell would not hear of; and Margaret reallyreverenced her too much to press her. 

However, Ridley was sent for to the Cour des Princes, and returnedwith a letter to be borne to King Edward, and likewise a mission tofind Featherstone, and if possible Red Jock. 

"'Tis working for that rogue Copeland, " he growled. "I would it werefor you, my sweet lady. "

"It is working for me! Think so with all your heart, good Cuthbert. "

"Well, end as it may, you will at least ken who and what you are, wedor unwed, fish, flesh or good red herring, and cease to livenameless, like the Poticary's serving-woman, " concluded Ridley as hisparting grumble. 

CHAPTER XXX--THE WEDDING CHIMES

Low at times and loud at times, Changing like a poet's rhymes, Rang the beautiful wild chimes, From the belfry in the marketOf the ancient town of Bruges. 

LONGFELLOW, The Carillon. 

No more was heard of the Duchess for some weeks. Leonard was absentwith the Duke, who was engaged in that unhappy affair of Peroune andLiege, the romantic version of which may be read in Quentin Durward, and with which the present tale dares not to meddle, though it seemedto blast the life of Charles the Bold, all unknowing. 

The Duchess Margaret was youthful enough to have a strong taste foreffect, and it was after a long and vexatious delay that Grisell wassuddenly summoned to her presence, to be escorted by Master Groot. There she sat, on her chair of state, with the high tapestried backand the square canopy, and in the throng of gentlemen around herGrisell at a glance recognised Sir Leonard, and likewise CuthbertRidley and Harry Featherstone, though of course it was not etiquetteto exchange any greetings. 

She knelt to kiss the Duchess's hand, and as she did so Margaretraised her, kissing her brow, and saying with a clear full voice, "Igreet you, Lady Copeland, Baroness of Whitburn. Here is a letterfrom my brother, King Edward, calling on the Bishop of Durham, CountPalatine, to put you in possession of thy castle and lands, whoevermay gainsay it. "

That Leonard started with amazement and made a step forward Grisellwas conscious, as she bent again to kiss the hand that gave theletter; but there was more to come, and Margaret continued -

"Also, to you, as to one who has the best right, I give thisparchment, sealed and signed by my brother, the King, containing hisfull and free pardon to the good knight, Sir Leonard Copeland, andhis restoration to all his honours and his manors. Take it, Lady ofWhitburn. It was you, his true wife, who won it for him. It is youwho should give it to him. Stand forth, Sir Leonard. "

He did stand forth, faltering a little, as his first impulse had beento kneel to Grisell, then recollecting himself, to fall at theDuchess's feet in thanks. 

"To her, to her, " said the Duchess; but Grisell, as he turned, spoke, trying to clear her voice from a rising sob. 

"Sir Leonard, wait, I pray. Her Highness hath not spoken all. I amwell advised that the wedlock into which you were forced against yourwill was of no avail to bind us, as you in mind and will werecontracted to the Lady Eleanor Audley. "

Leonard opened his lips, but she waved him to silence. "True, I knowthat she was likewise constrained to wed; but she is a widow, andfree to choose for herself. Therefore, either by the bishop, or itmay be through our Holy Father the Pope, by mutual consent, shall themarriage at Whitburn be annulled and declared void, and I pray you toaccept seisin thereof, while my lady, her Highness the DuchessIsabel, with the Lady Prioress, will accept me as a Grey Sister. "

There was a murmur. Margaret utterly amazed would have sprungforward and exclaimed, but Leonard was beforehand with her. 

"Never! never!" he cried, throwing himself on his knees and masteringhis wife's hand. "Grisell, Grisell, dost think I could turn to thefeather-pated, dull-souled, fickle-hearted thing I know now Eleanorof Audley to be, instead of you?"

There was a murmur of applause, led by the young Duchess herself, butGrisell tried still to withdraw her hand, and say in low brokentones, "Nay, nay; she is fair, I am loathly. "

"What is her fair skin to me?" he cried; "to me, who have learnt toknow, and love, and trust to you with a very different love from theboy's passion I felt for Eleanor in youth, and the cure whereof wasthe sight and words of the Lady Heringham! Grisell, Grisell, I wasabout to lay my very heart at your feet when the Duke's trumpetcalled me away, ere I guessed, fool that I was, that mine was thehand that left the scar that now I love, but which once I treatedwith a brute's or a boy's lightness. Oh! pardon me! Still less didI know that it was my own forsaken wife who saved my life, who tendedmy sickness, nay, as I verily believed, toiled for me and my breadthrough these long seven years, all in secret. Yea, and won myentire soul and deep devotion or ever I knew that it was to you alonethat they were due. Grisell, Grisell, " as she could not speak fortears. "Oh forgive! Pardon me! Turn not away to be a Grey Sister. I cannot do without you! Take me! Let me strive throughout my lifeto merit a little better all that you have done and suffered for oneso unworthy!"

Grisell could not speak, but she turned towards him, and regardlessof all spectators, she was for the first time clasped in herhusband's arms, and the joyful tears of her friends high and low. 

What more shall be told of that victory? Shall it be narrated howthis wedlock was blest in the chapel, while all the lovely bells ofBruges rang out in rejoicing, how Mynheer Groot and Clemence rejoicedthough they lost their guest, how Caxton gave them a choice specimenof his printing, how Ridley doffed his pilgrim's garb and came out asa squire of dames, how the farewells were sorrowfully exchanged withthe Duchess, and how the Duke growled that from whichever party hetook his stout English he was sure to lose them?

Then there was homage to King Edward paid not very willingly, and aprogress northward. At York, Thora, looking worn and haggard, cameand entreated forgiveness, declaring that she had little guessed whather talk was doing, and that Ralph made her believe whatever hechose! She had a hard life, treated like a slave by the burgesses, who despised the fisher maid. Oh that she could go back to serve herdear good lady!

There was a triumph at Whitburn to welcome the lady after the latereign of misrule, and so did the knight and dame govern their estatesthat for long years the time of 'Grisly Grisell' was remembered asWhitburn's golden age.