'Lady Jane Grey is a Protestant, then?' I asked.
'Certainly, and withal so wise and virtuous as to stand out far above all other women in the world.'
I thought if that were so she would not like to step before the Princesses Mary and Elizabeth, but I dared not say it, for, with all her sweetness there was something imperious about Lady Caroline so that I felt she would not brook dissent from a young girl like me.
She seemed to be a little piqued with my silence, and getting off the bed, stood beside it to say, as if closing the discussion—
'For the enlightenment of the people in our neighbourhood and to instil the truth into their minds my husband has invited Sir Hubert Blair here, purposely to speak to a congregation to-night, which he intends getting together, of our tenantry and people in the neighbourhood.'
That touched me more nearly than the other matter, and I felt myself colouring deeply. 'Has Sir Hubert skill thus to speak?' I asked.
'Certainly; he is a very able man, and always speaks out manfully for the right. In Spain, when he went with his friend, Sir Thomas Wyatt, who accompanied his father on an embassy, he saw much of the horrors of papistry and the terrible Inquisition, and he is going to tell the people about it to-night, that every one present may be stirred to do his utmost to keep it far from our land.'
She paused.
'I should like to hear what he has to say,' I said. 'Are you going to be present, Lady Caroline?'
'Yes, yes,' she said, 'and I will take you with me; indeed, we think you ought to come to it—for you ought to know everything, then you can tell Lady Jane all that you have heard.'
I was rather alarmed at the idea of doing that, not knowing then that she was even sweeter and more easy to get on with than Lady Caroline herself. But I have often noticed that the higher up in the scale of society a person is so much the more courteous and gentle we are sure to find him or her. For it is ever the greater man, the greater courtesy.
After Lady Caroline had gone I dressed and went downstairs into the large hall, where she came to me again, and the rest of that day was spent very quietly with her alone, none of the gentlemen coming near us, as they were all busy preparing for the meeting and riding far to bid folk come to it. I was constantly hoping to see Sir Hubert Blair again, and I think Lady Caroline discovered this, for she said not unkindly—
'You cannot see Sir Hubert until the meeting, which is to be held in the courtyard after the ringing of the curfew bell. And there you will not be able to speak to him—at least not until the gathering is over—but you will hear all he has to say.'
Then, I began to long exceedingly for the time of the meeting to come, as I wished, above all things, to see my brave champion again, and hear the words he had to say.
It was a strange weird sight, that large assembly, crowded together in a fore-court of the fine old Castle, in the gathering gloom of night. All sorts and descriptions of people had been gathered in from every side, both rich and poor, high and low, gentle and simple, good and bad, wise and unwise, those that were handsome and those that were uncomely. They stood together in a mass, eager to hear of matters of vital importance to them all, and heeding little the petty class distinctions about which at another time their feelings might be rancorous.
Here and there the light of a lantern or a flaming torch enlivened the scene; but nearly all the torches and candles that could be got together were grouped at one end of the court, where, upon a roughly made platform, the chief landowners and the clergy were gathered around Sir Hubert Blair, who was dressed richly in velvet and lace, as befitted his rank, and who seemed to be the cynosure of all eyes.
As I saw him there, so young, yet looking wiser than his years would warrant, and so handsome, yet humble withal, and remembered how he had saved my life but yesterday, bearing me in his arms as if I were a child, and bruising his own hands rather than suffer me to touch the trees, my heart glowed within me and a wordless prayer rose from it that his friendship for me and mine for him might be blessed and strengthened mightily.
Just for a moment he caught my eye, as his keen glance swept over the audience, and I could not be sure, but I thought a wave of colour passed over his pale, proud features. Yet he turned his eyes resolutely away from me, and I knew that just then, for the time being, he existed only for the people with whom he was about to plead and for whose sake he was there.
I did not hear much of what the first speaker, a white-haired venerable old bishop, was saying, for his voice was feeble, and Lady Caroline, who stood near me, whispered that it was only because of his age and high position that the opening speech was apportioned to him.
But, after having spoken a little while, the people listening at first with reverence and then beginning to show signs of some impatience, he seemed to call upon the audience for a hymn, for suddenly, in most excellent voice, the whole assembly began to sing the psalm—
To Sion's Hill I lift my eyes,From thence expecting aid;From Sion's Hill and Sion's God,Who Heaven and earth has made.Then thou, my soul, in safety rest,Thy Guardian will not sleep;His watchful care that Israel guards,Will Israel's monarch keep.
And so on to the finish—
At home, abroad, in peace, in war,Thy God shall thee defend;Conduct thee through life's pilgrimageSafe to thy journey's end.
The last words had scarcely died away when a stout curate, with a fine, clear voice, began to speak about the Reformation, relating in brief its history and the gross errors from which it had freed the people, causing the abolition of so much that intervened between themselves and God, for instance the jurisdiction of the Pope, the doctrine of trans-substantiation, the withdrawal of the Holy Scriptures from the people, the refusal of liberty to worship in a tongue understood by the people, confession to a priest, penance and the like.
I did not understand it all, not by a long way, but Timothy's graphic comment—for he had found his way to my elbow—enlightened me not a little.
''Tis just,' said he, 'as if those monks and cardinals of old had busied themselves with setting up a lot of stone walls between folks and their Maker, so that they might keep their distance; and it was the same sort of thing the disciples of our Lord wanted to do when they tried to keep the children off Him that the mothers brought. "Go away," said they, "you are troubling the Master." But what did He do? He called the little ones to Him and laid His hands upon them and blessed them. That isHisfashion, and I reckon He is the same now as He was then.'
And then, after that introductory speech, Sir Hubert Blair stepped forward; and looking down upon the crowd with shining eyes, and it seemed to me a light upon his face, he began to speak, at first slowly and with laboured distinctness, but presently more rapidly, with glowing words, and, ever and anon, gestures of great significance.
'I have been,' said he, 'to a land where the blessings of the Reformation do not exist, and I will tell you what sort of thing is going on there. Bigotry, intolerant bigotry, holds the kingdom of Spain in adamantine fetters. There, where the healing breath of the Reformation, with its God-sent tolerance has not come, cruelty, death and desolation are stalking through the land, leaving behind them a track of blood and tears, broken hearts and mourners weeping for their dear ones, whose innocent lives have been plucked from them by the cruel and relentless hands of torture——' He broke down for a moment or two, covering his face with his hands, and shuddering violently as if at some awful recollection, and a whisper went round among the more intelligent of the audience to the effect that he was speaking about the Inquisition, which was rampant in Spain, and of which traders and diplomatists had brought home many rumours.
'Yes, it is the Inquisition of which I am speaking,' Sir Hubert continued, 'and God grant that it may never come to this country of ours! I will tell you what it is. In brief, it is a court, or tribunal, established in a Roman Catholic country for the examination and punishment of heretics—heretics meaning persons holding or teaching opinions repugnant or opposite to the Roman Catholic faith. The way in which it is actually worked is like this: Many thousands of people, called familiars, are employed as spies and informers, to find out and inform the Holy Inquisition, as it is named, if they know any one, living or dead, present or absent, who has wandered from the faith, or who observes, or has once observed, the Jewish laws or even spoken favourably of them, or any one who follows, or has followed, the teaching of Martin Luther, or any one who has formed an alliance with the devil, or who possesses a heretical book, aye, even the Bible in the Spanish language, or, finally, any one who has harboured, received, or favoured heretics. It is a wide field, you see, my friends, as wide as the views of the Inquisitors are narrow, and the thousands—some of high rank—who are acting as spies do so on account of the privileges connected with the office.'
He paused a moment or two, and then went on to draw a graphic picture of an honest man pursuing his daily avocation, and then, on his way home to his wife and family, being seized by the officers of the Inquisition and carried away, there and then, and from that moment being entirely cut off from the world.
The prison into which the unhappy man would be thrust he described vividly, as one who had seen it. 'In the upper cells of these prisons of the Inquisition,' he said, 'a dim ray of light falls through a grate, the lower cells are smaller and darker. Each dungeon has two doors, the inner one, bound with iron, having a grate through which food is introduced for the wretched prisoner. A prisoner of the Inquisition is allowed no visits from relatives nor friends, and is not permitted to have books, but is compelled to sit motionless and silent. Unless for the purpose of obtaining evidence, only one prisoner is placed in each cell.
'At his trial there is no hope for the prisoner of the Inquisition. If he says he is innocent, he is threatened with torture, indeed he is often subjected to torture in order to extort a confession. Those who escape death by repentance and confession are obliged to swear they will submit to all the pains and penalties the court orders.'
Then Sir Hubert described some of these fearful punishments, and they, he said, were not the worst, but they were sufficiently dreadful to make the audience groan and cry 'Shame! Shame!' whilst, as for me, I felt as if I should faint.
Sir Hubert next went on to describe what the Spanish call the Holy Auto-da-fé, which takes place on a Sunday, between Trinity Sunday and Advent.
'When sentence of death is pronounced on a man,' said he, 'the Auto-da-fé is ordered, and at daybreak the big bell of the cathedral is tolled, and people come in crowds to see the fearful procession.
'The Dominicans walk first, with the banner of the Inquisition. Then come the penitents, who are to be punished in various ways, and after them, a cross is borne, following which walk the condemned men. The effigies of those who have fled, and the bones of the dead who, having been condemned after death, are not allowed to rest in their graves, but are brought in black coffins, are carried next. Then more monks and priests follow, and the dreadful procession passes on through the streets of the city to the church, where a sermon is preached and the sentences are pronounced. And then follow other dreadful ordeals, which end in death by being strangled or burned alive.
'My friends'—Sir Hubert glanced at me for the first time since he began to speak—'I am cutting short the awful details, for I see that some of you have not strength to endure the hearing of them. If it is so, what must it be to live in a land where such doings are customary, and where the condemned may be our own familiar friends or loving relations? My friends, this is a danger which is menacing England.' He paused.
'Menacing England!' The cry was caught up by many voices. 'England! How can that be? England is now a Protestant country.'
'This island of ours—this happy England,' said Sir Hubert earnestly, 'if one of the firmest lands in the Continent of Europe to resist papistry and the Inquisition, is in danger of yielding to that which will bring in both, with all their attendant evils and all their gruesome horrors.'
'But how?' cried the people. 'How can that be? The Reformed Church is now our Church. King Edward VI., our dear young king, is for the reformed faith.'
'Yes. Yes. So he is. But my friends'—Sir Hubert lowered his voice as one who spoke of secret matters—'you must know this: Edward, our king, is very ill, far gone in consumption, and even now dying.'
'Dying!' cried the people with deep groans. 'Dying? Edward, our king, dying? Oh, say not so! say not so!' they wailed.
'It is a fact. I come from Hampton Palace, where, the other day, I had an interview with him in his bedroom. "I am very young to die," he said, and he looked so sad I could have wept for him, but, the doctors having said I was to keep a cheerful countenance, I restrained myself. However, he is dying, I saw it plainly. Edward VI is dying.'
'Edward is dying,' echoed the audience, and then such lamentable sighs, groans and sounds of weeping ensued as touched me strangely, whilst Lady Caroline sobbed upon my shoulder.'
'And after he has gone,' Sir Hubert asked in grievous tones, 'what will become of England, if his Roman Catholic sister, Princess Mary, succeeds to the throne?'
In an instant the sound of weeping ceased, and an angry murmur passed like a wave through the dense crowd.
'A Papist! To rule over us? Never! Never!' cried a voice, which recalled to my mind all at once the smell of newly cut grass and the aspect of an old covered shed and a big roughly made cart within it, whilst again, I trembled, yet breathed more feebly because of the kindness of the tones.
Jack Fish it was indeed, and he continued to ejaculate—
'A Roman Catholic Queen! God forbid we should come to such straits as that! A Papist!' and such like, until the people caught it up and cried with one voice, 'A Papist? To rule over us? Never! Never! Never!'
'What do you mean?' asked Sir Hubert. 'Is this only sentiment? Or does your heart go with your cry? Answer me. Yes or no.'
'Yes! Yes! Yes!' shouted all, or almost all.
'It is well,' said Sir Hubert. 'It is well for you, people of England, that you feel like this. With Mary for its queen this country would be plunged back into Roman Catholicism. Perchance Mary would wed the King of Spain——'
He was interrupted by angry and excited cries.
'We will not have Mary to reign over us!' shouted loud voices. 'We will not! We will not!'
When they were a little calmer Sir Hubert said—
'I rejoice that your voices ring true and that your hearts are in the right place, while your intellects recognize the enormity of the affliction into which this country would be plunged if a woman steeped in Papistry and so benighted, so bigoted that Edward, our king, tried in vain to win her to the true Faith, were to ascend the throne. Let me tell you that there are good and great statesmen round our king who will do all in their power to secure the succession to a true Protestant who, like yourselves, abhors Papistry and all its attendant evils.' After saying that, being thoroughly exhausted, he sat down.
And the people cried with one voice, 'A Protestant, and none but a Protestant, shall rule over us!'
Jack Fish and other countrymen then made short emphatic speeches, which so stirred the audience that they began to grow overpoweringly noisy, whereupon my men and Lady Caroline's made a way through the people for us, and we retired into the castle, leaving the gentlemen to close the meeting in the best way they could.
I did not see them return to the castle that night, for Lady Caroline would have me go to bed at once, declaring that I looked thoroughly worn out. I therefore went to my room, and suffered Betsy to take off my fine clothes and replace them by a warm gown, after which I sent her away, and sat by the lancet-shaped window looking out into the night, listening to the distant shoutings of the people and watching their lanterns and torches presently leaving the courtyard and glimmering away into the darkness beyond. They were going to their homes, carrying with them big thoughts, pregnant with meaning, given to them chiefly by Sir Hubert Blair; and soon I, too, should be gone to a very different sphere, near London, taking with me also new ideas imparted by him and Lady Caroline, and what would be the end of it all?
I could not tell. But it seemed to me that I had left my childhood behind me in my father's house, with Hal and Jack, and was entering into the new untried life of a woman, in times which bid fair to be troubled and tempestuous, and I felt afraid.
But just then, from the garden below my window, proceeded the sound of a sweet-toned lute, played so exquisitely that I could have wept for joy.
I leaned out of a window and looked down upon the player, and he looked up to me, the while he played even more beautifully than before. And I felt soothed and comforted, for, whatever had happened and was going to happen, there was Sir Hubert Blair, and he was my friend and I his, and I prayed in my heart for him—for him and for myself—that God would bless us, and bless our friendship, so that nothing but good might come of it. When he had gone away, which he did in a few minutes after playing for me that lovely strain, I went to bed; and the feeling of happiness which that music had brought to me was such that I fell asleep the moment my head touched the pillow, and knew no more till it was time to rise the next morning.
What a wonderful thing is love—the love, I mean, of man for woman and woman for man! It is so bewitching and alluring, yet withal so tyrannical and imperious. No wonder that it has been the theme of poets and historians in all times, and will be as long as the world remains. Love enters so largely into our lives, for weal or woe, that to ignore it is to wilfully shut our eyes to facts and blind ourselves to one of the greatest realities of existence, which must be reckoned with and allowed for, whatever else is omitted. The story of the love of man and woman commenced in the Garden of Eden, runs all through the pages of history, sacred and profane, and is to be seen in all the haunts of men. It is only the very young into whose thoughts and calculations it does not enter, until they wake up suddenly to find themselves its subjects.
I was wandering about in Lady Caroline's garden, within the castle's precincts, the next day—her ladyship had left me to amuse myself whilst she was busy with the steward of her household—thinking about Sir Hubert Blair, when he came to me, saying wistfully, as he took my hand in his—
'May I have a little talk with you, Mistress Brown? We may not have such a good opportunity again.'
A sudden shyness fell upon me, as glancing up, I caught the look in his dark eyes, and I could not answer in words, though he must have read my meaning, for he thanked me very much, and we walked on side by side, stooping ever and anon to look into a flower, or smell an early rose, but scarcely speaking at all, until he began in feverish haste—
'Lady Caroline sent me to talk to you of matters political and religious. You heard what I said at the meeting yesterday, and she wishes me to enlighten you still further about the desires and intentions of the boldest and perhaps the most farseeing statesmen near our dying king. But methinks, though politics may be of importance, and kings and queens demand our unswerving allegiance and devotion, yet there is something nearer my heart just now, something which affects mine own self more closely——' He broke off, and began again: 'Mistress Margaret, this is a rare opportunity for a quiet talk with you, and I must seize it'——He paused.
'Yes,' I said, trying to help him on, 'you must seize it!'
'Exactly,' he rejoined. 'Oh, but you may think it intolerable presumption on my part. And yet I cannot help it. Margaret—Margaret, I love you, I love you with all my heart.'
He took my hands in his, and held them to him.
I fancy sometimes, after all the far different aspects in which I have seen his dear face and fine figure, that never did he look so handsome and so lovable as then, when he was telling me for the first time of his dear love, and my heart bounded with joy as I realized that he to the full reciprocated my tender affection.
Perhaps he read my answer in my face—I have often been told it is like an open book that he who runs may read—or perhaps he perceived the difficulty I had in finding words, and wished to spare me, for he went on, without awaiting for any rejoinder, to tell me that ever since we first met—he spoke as if that were years and years ago, though it was barely fifty hours before—he felt convinced that I was his affinity, his kindred soul, his wife that ought to be. 'We have been made for each other,' he said, and much more to that effect, whilst I listened as if I were in a happy dream, and thought that it was all too good and beautiful to be true.
And then, long before it was time for her to return—to my thinking, at least—Lady Caroline came into the garden, and, hastening up to me, inquired of what I thought of all Sir Hubert had been telling me.
I felt myself blushing as I answered rather falteringly—
'It is very nice—very—very nice.'
'My dear Mistress Margaret,' she said in a puzzled tone.
'I mean—I mean it is beautiful,' I hastily corrected myself.
'Why, Sir Hubert,' exclaimed Lady Caroline, 'what have you been talking about to her instead of telling her all that I enjoined upon you to say about our poor young king and his successor?'
Sir Hubert looked rather confused. 'The fact was,' said he, 'this garden of yours is so beautiful. We admired the flowers, and conversed of them until——'
'You admired each other and conversed of that instead,' she interrupted merrily. 'Oh! Sir Hubert, fie! You a diplomatist! You a soldier! You a lover of your country——'
'I am a lover of one in it, if you like, madam,' he said, and forthwith we took Lady Caroline into our confidence and confessed that we were in love.
'I am delighted to hear it,' said Lady Caroline, adding: 'By your valour in defending Mistress Margaret Brown the other day, and perchance saving her life, Sir Hubert, you have earned the right to aspire to her hand; still I think you must remember that her father ought to be consulted before you become really betrothed to her.'
'Her father!' cried Sir Hubert, taken aback. 'Where is he?'
I explained where my home was, adding dutifully that my father said business of importance prevented his personally conducting me to London, yet I could see, even as I said it, that my companions thought it very remiss of him to leave the care of me on the long journey to servants, however trustworthy, and not wishing them to blame him, I went on to say that he was somewhat delicate and his life was a very valuable one. They seemed to think better of him after that, and not by any means worse of me, and I have ever noticed that judicious praise of and speaking up for others endears ourselves to those to whom we speak.
Lady Caroline went away presently, and Sir Hubert and I spent a blissful hour or two in that quaint little garden amongst the primroses and early wallflowers, violets and wood anemones.
Our happy time together came to an end only too soon, for we were summoned to dinner, and afterwards Sir William himself came to me and Lady Caroline as we sat in the drawing-room, and carefully instructed me as to the way in which, should opportunity occur, I was to talk to Lady Jane Grey, touching the matter of her possible succession to the crown.
'You must tell her,' said Sir William, 'that the welfare of English Protestants all over the kingdom rests in her hands. There will be no religious freedom if Princess Mary becomes queen. Tell Lady Jane she must not think of herself, for, student as she is, no doubt the cares and the pomps and ceremonies of royalty will be distasteful to her; but she must be willing to sacrifice her own wishes to the good of the people. Yes, that is the way you must put it; for they tell me she is exceedingly good and kind, self-denying and merciful.'
I agreed that, if able to do so, I would repeat all this to my mistress when I joined her, and then I was further instructed upon the difference between a Roman Catholic Government and a Protestant one, and the great superiority of the latter.
I listened to everything that was said and endeavoured to give my mind to it, whilst yet longing much to have a further talk alone with Sir Hubert. However, it seemed that could not be, and I retired to bed early; and with the hope of hearing him play once more, sat by the window in the moonlight after Betsy had left me for the night.
And again Sir Hubert came under my window with his lute, and played so excellently that his lute seemed to speak to me of love until, enraptured, I leaned out of the window towards the player. Then in a moment the playing ceased and a small tightly folded note was thrown into my lap.
'Good night! Good night!' said Sir Hubert softly, yet so distinctly that his words were plainly audible, and then he went away and I read my first love letter.
'Queen of my heart,' it said; 'my dearest love, as soon as I have escorted you safely to Sion House I will travel to your father's house, and tell him of your welfare and beseech him to allow me to become betrothed to you. I think he will, for I can take him letters from people of importance testifying to my prowess in battle and my worthiness of character, and I can show him that I possess no mean share of this world's goods, together with my estate and Hall of Harpton in Sussex. But, the best of all, I would have you, my love, write to him, with your own hand, and that is to say that I am not wholly uncared for by you. Such a letter, written and sealed, I would carefully deliver into his hand. Then, if he consents to our betrothal, I will return to you in all haste to acquaint you with the good news.'
The letter ended with some most fond terms of endearment and assurances of undying affection, and I slept with it under my pillow that night—as many a girl has done with her lover's letters before and since—and I dreamt of Sir Hubert Blair, but how he looked and what he said I must reserve for myself, it being of a purely personal and private nature. I can only add that I was very happy when I slept, and still happier when I awoke, and knew that the best of what had happened was not a dream, because there was the letter under my pillow, a tangible, visible proof of its reality. And I thanked God that He had heard my prayer and was causing something very good indeed to result from our friendship and love for each other. For I believed then, as indeed I believe still, that two are better than one, and that man and woman united are better than man and woman separate, if they be rightly mated and their feet are treading in the same direction, whilst the golden cord of love binding heart to heart binds each one also to the mightier heart of God.
The next day I recommenced my journey to London with my servants, Sir Hubert accompanying us as an outrider. He was well-armed and followed by his men, also equipped with arquebusses, and that was well, for we had not long left Guildford before we encountered Sir Claudius, with a number of his rascally followers. However, fortunately for us, Sir Hubert and his men were able to beat them, insomuch that they were compelled to retreat most ignominiously.
Betsy, who had keen ears, asserted that she heard Sir Claudius vow, as he retired from the field, that he would not let the grass grow under his feet before he gained possession of the haughty madam, whose house and his had been for many years at loggerheads, that he might humble her pride and lay her low in the dust; which affrighted me for a while. But Sir Hubert, when I told him, said that the words were but the vain babbling of an empty-headed braggart, and that I was to take them for what they were worth, which was less than nothing; moreover he bade me rebuke Betsy for endeavouring to affright me, which I did, though timidly, or I should never have heard the last of it—the woman has such a tongue.
After that we went on unmolested through Esher, Kingston and to Isleworth, in which town Sion House, a magnificent riverside residence, is situated.
There Sir Hubert Blair had to take leave of me for the time being, but before going away he pointed out the great river Thames, to the banks of which he bade me often resort. 'For,' said he, 'when I am in London 'tis a very great amusement of mine, and a most pleasant way of passing the time, to take a boat and two or three men and row up stream. I have been,' said he, 'as far as Hampton Court Palace, which was built by Cardinal Wolsey and given by him to King Henry, our King Edward's father, and even twice I went past there as far as Staines, and once beyond that, even to Windsor Castle.'
I had read of those places in history, and I knew they were some distance from London, and thought Sir Hubert must have rare fun in rowing so far with a few men in a small boat; and then I began to wonder if I should ever see him in his boat passing up the river.
'I shall be lonely sometimes, I doubt not,' said I, 'when my servants, all except Betsy, have gone home, and every one else will be strange to me here. It would be nice to see you passing by.'
'I will come,' he said. 'You will see me in my boat, rowing up the river.'
'Ah, how glad I shall be!' I said.
'And I—ah! how glad I shall be when I see you coming sauntering along the footpath by the river! Shall I tell you what I shall do?'
'Yes.'
'I shall come up to the bank and hold out my hand, you will give me yours, and then you will step into the boat and I shall take you for a row!'
I was delighted. ''Twill be a rare pleasure,' I said.
'And perhaps'—he lowered his voice—'perhaps the day will come when I will take you away in my boat and never, never bring you back.'
After he had gone—carrying with him a short letter from me to my father—and he was perforce obliged to leave me soon, for it would not do to keep the servants waiting—I treasured the memory of those last words of his in my heart, and thought of them many times when feeling homesick or afraid of the troublous days to come. They comforted me, too, when my menservants left me and went home with the horses and litter, which seemed like burning my boats behind me.
I was received with kindness by Lady Jane's servants and others of the household of the Duke of Northumberland, her father-in-law. For he was the owner of the house, although he was allowing his son, Lord Dudley, and Lady Jane to live there. Particularly Mistress Ellen, Lady Jane's other gentlewoman, was good to me and welcomed me right heartily as her fellow lady-in-waiting. Mistress Ellen was older than I was, and much older than Lady Jane, who was a few months my junior, which I was rather glad of at the time, thinking that then thought, I need not be afraid of her.
Mistress Ellen would not allow me to see lady Jane that first night; she said I was too tired and too much overcome by the vastness of the house and its grandeur to appear at my best before her mistress. 'Sleep will restore your strength,' she said, 'and give you the quiet confidence, which perhaps more than anything else betokens a true gentlewoman, who knows what she is, although perhaps others do not at the time. And I should like you to stand well, child,' she said kindly, 'in the regard of Lady Jane, for she has few friends of her own age, being so learned and bookish as to find little sympathy amongst other girls—and, although she is married, she is but a girl, poor young thing!' and she sighed.
Mistress Ellen, I should think, was thirty years old, and looked older, because of her manner of dress, which was handsome but exceedingly cumbrous, especially in regard to her coif, or bonnet, which concealed a large portion of her face and head. She was very kind to me, and when I cried that first night, being so weary and thinking of my father and the boys so far away, and Sir Hubert gone, too, for a while, she comforted me with loving words, saying I was to take courage, for the future might have great things in store for me, and the past was past and I should never again have that first bitterness of homesickness to live through, as every day of my new life would make it easier for me.
And when I fell asleep that first night at Sion House, I dreamt about Sir Hubert coming for me in a boat, which I saw gliding, gliding through the water, ever nearer, ever nearer, yet, alas! never coming quite up to the bank on which I stood, waiting with outstretched arms. They say it is unlucky to dream about water, and I felt rather low spirited when I awoke, but not so much because of that as because, with my first waking thoughts, my homesickness and loneliness returned, and I turned my face to the wall and cried a little, wishing I was a child again at home with Hal and Jack and my father and good old Master Montgomery at the parsonage near by, to say nothing of the serving men and women.
But I never felt like that again in her home after I had once seen Lady Jane Grey, as she was still often called, although her married name was Dudley.
I remember so well the first time I saw her. She was sitting in her favourite corner of the great drawing-room, with a book in her hand, waiting for her husband, Lord Dudley, to go out with her, and was richly dressed in black velvet and white satin. Her skirt, which was very full, was bordered down the sides with ermine, as was also her bodice, which was pointed at the waist and square in the neck, with a chemisette of satin quilted with pearls. She wore a close honeycomb ruff at the throat and a velvet coif, pointed and bordered with pearls, and long hanging velvet sleeves over tighter ones of white satin, with ruffles of cloth of gold, whilst the richest jewels added lustre to her handsome clothing. But she was not thinking of her dress, for her sweet and lovely countenance was poring over her book so closely that she did not hear me approach or heed the murmur of Mistress Ellen's voice saying to me aside, 'She is reading Plato. 'Tis a work for which she has an immense liking.'
I dared not speak, but looked wistfully at the beautiful girl whose thoughts were so riveted on the book she read that she had none to spare for a poor young stranger, and then I sighed deeply, and that aroused her, who had always a tender ear for the suffering of others.
She raised her eyes slowly from the open page, and, as they rested on my face, gave a little cry of glad surprise.
'My new gentlewoman!' she exclaimed. 'And one so young and pretty! Oh, this is a pleasure!' and she held out both her hands and kissed me, saying, 'We shall be great friends, you and I.'
I thought so too, for my heart went out to her then as it never did before or since to one of my own sex, and I felt that she was worthy of my love, and that all I could do for her would be too little to express the loving service I should like to offer.
Mistress Ellen went away and left us together—in that showing her usual discretion—and my dear lady asked me many questions relating to my home and kindred, the long journey I had come upon and the dangers of the way. I answered readily, experiencing a rare pleasure in finding her responsive nature understand, appreciate and sympathize with everything I said.
'Oh,' said she, when at length I had told her all that I could think of just then—except indeed what I had heard at Woodleigh Castle relating to her future, which I dared not mention—not omitting the valiant deeds that Sir Hubert Blair had done for my assistance, 'how I have enjoyed hearing you talk! What you have told me is so different from anything that has ever happened to me. It is all so interesting and so like a poem, only more real and life-like than any poetry, and it is true, that is the best of all.'
'Yes; it is true,' I said. 'And I could not talk like that to any one else. There is something in you, madam, which draws out my innermost thoughts.'
Lady Jane smiled, and told me that in that case I should have to be very careful always to have good thoughts, adding that I ought to read much in the Bible and in such books as the one she was perusing, and also that I ought to pray for the Holy Spirit to guide me unto all truth.
I was going to inquire about the book she was reading when we were interrupted by the entrance of a gentleman richly dressed in crimson velvet embroidered with gold, and silk stockings.
'Dudley, this is my new gentlewoman,' said Lady Jane, turning to him, and then formally introducing her husband to me.
The young man, who was handsome, manly, and withal most courteous in manner and bearing, spoke a kindly word or two to me, and then requested Lady Jane to allow him to take her to her litter which was waiting at the door.
'I shall see more of you to-morrow, Margery—I may call you Margery, may I not?' she said prettily, and, upon my assenting with pleasure, gave so sweet a smile that it seemed to linger after she had gone, filling me with a strange new happiness. I was fascinated with my dear lady, and stood in the empty room looking at the place where she had been and the chair where she sat, as if I were in a dream.
My eyes fell upon the book which she had left upon the table and I picked it up. But, alas! the words contained in it were written in a strange language and I could not read a line. But I raised the little volume to my lips and kissed the place where her dear eyes had rested.
I was wonderfully fascinated by the whole personality of Lady Jane, her youth, beauty, sweetness of disposition, charming manner, and last but not least, her richly cultured mind and the true religion revealed not so much by what she said as by her every act and deed. Indeed this new love of mine bid fair to outrival even my recently sprung-up affection for Sir Hubert Blair, and I did not go down to the river bank to look out for him for several weeks owing to the great content with which the presence of my mistress filled me and the enjoyment I felt in her society. It was not so much that I was with her every minute, for her husband and other relations often engaged hours of her time, but it was my duty and my pleasure to linger near, that if by any chance she wished for me, or the others left her alone, I might be close as hand and ready to bear her company.[1]
[1] We have all of us seen, occasionally, the fascination with which an older, or more gifted young woman has over a girl of similar inclinations but less ability, and so can understand this new and ardent attachment of Margaret Brown's.—ED.
I remember so well and vividly what she said to me one day about her beloved Plato. We were in the garden, seated in an arbour shaded by pink and white hawthorn trees in full flower, the scent of which came to us pleasantly as we talked, whilst our eyes rested on the well-kept lawns and the trees in the park with the mighty river beyond flowing silently on its way.
'Is your book so very interesting?' I asked, for her eyes fell often upon it while we conversed as if it were enticing her back to its pages.
'Yes, dear,' she answered, 'it is most interesting, for it deals with the great truths of life. You will have to learn to read it for yourself, Margery, and you will like it, too.'
'But it is written in Greek,' said I with a sigh, 'and that would take such a lot of learning.'
'I would help you,' said Lady Jane kindly, 'and you would soon learn.'
But I shook my head.
'Why should I be at so much trouble,' said I, 'when you can tell me all about it—what it says, you know?'
'What we acquire without trouble does not do us much good,' was the gentle answer. 'However, you must know Plato was the founder of a great school of Greek philosophy. He was a disciple of Socrates. You have heard of him?'
'A little,' said I. 'Master Montgomery, our good curate, told me he was a man who taught truths which the people were not educated enough to receive; therefore they killed him.'
'Yes; they killed him, much as others killed Christ our Lord, because they could not receive His teaching. Killing the body is theextreme penalty of the law,' and Lady Jane shuddered. ''Tis a cruel thing,' she said, 'for men to crush out and destroy the life they cannot give, and 'tis a savage idea to murder the body for what they imagine is a crime of the mind.'
I thought of her words long afterwards, when her own fate gave to them a mournful significance. At the time I could not bear to see sadness in her face, and therefore, to change the subject, asked—
'When did Plato live?'
'In the fifth century before Christ. He was a great teacher——' she paused. How could she explain it all to one so ignorant as me?
'Tell me,' I said earnestly, 'tell me one thing that he said?'
A wistful expression came into the sweet face on which I looked, and, turning over the leaves of her book, she seemed to seek for something suitable for me. It was not, however, until she reached the last page of her volume that she opened her dear lips to translate, in quaint sweet accents, these words of Plato's—
'"If the company will be persuaded by me, accounting the soul immortal—we shall always hold to the road that leads above, and justice with prudence we shall by all means pursue, in order that we may be friends both to ourselves and to the gods, both whilst we remain here and when we receive its rewards, so we shall, like victors, both here and there enjoy a happy life." It is like our dear Lord's teaching,' she said, 'though it was uttered more than four centuries before He came to live as a man on earth.'
'They are good words,' said I, 'and I wish that I could remember them always.'
'I will write them out for you,' said Lady Jane. 'And you must learn them by heart, and never, never forget them.'
And she was as good as her word, and wrote them out for me in her beautiful handwriting, and I learned them every one, so that sometimes when we were sitting together in the gloaming, before the candles were lighted, I could say them to her without a book; and she would talk about them, telling me, too, what her dear old tutors, Master Ascham, and Master Aylmer, afterwards Bishop of London, used to teach about prudence, justice and kindred virtues.
One day the latter gentleman came to see her, to her intense delight, and I was much struck with his fine scholarly appearance and gentle manners. Lady Jane hung upon his lips, and treasured up everything he said, to discuss it with me afterwards and think over it many and many a time.
These tutors had indeed a great claim upon my dear lady's devotion, for they had instructed her so well that she spoke and wrote with correctness Greek, Latin, Italian and French, and also understood not a little of Hebrew, Chaldee and Arabic; moreover, she was, with all that learning, so modest and humble that you might have thought her a very simple ignorant maid at first sight, though, speaking for myself, I have ever noticed that large-minded people who are cultured and educated finely are more chary in expressing their feelings and meeker in their bearing than the empty-headed braggarts who think by much speaking and loud boasting they will carry all before them. ''Tis an empty whistle that makes most sound,' my father used to say, and he knew much of life, though he had buried himself latterly in the country.
It was very quiet at Sion House for a month or six weeks after I went there, and the life that we led would have seemed, though stately, tame and monotonous after the wild freedom of my home and the lively companionship of my young brothers if it had not been for the great beauty and fascination with which Lady Jane endowed it. Following her about, listening to her footsteps when she was absent, looking at her when she was present, wondering what I could do to please her, studying to comfort her when she was cast down—for she had troubles, even then, owing to the severity of her parents who, though she was married and apart from them (they lived at Sheen House at the other side of the Thames), by no means showed her kindness and consideration—so filled my time and thoughts that every moment of the days was full of interest and sped by with lightning speed.
Then, on the ninth of July, all at once, as a storm breaks out after a calm, or a tumult after a time of torpor and almost unnatural quiescence, the peaceful quietude of Sion House was broken up by the arrival of an illustrious company with their followers.
Mistress Ellen brought the news to Lady Jane, with whom I was sitting in the drawing-room, that the Duke of Northumberland, the Marquis of Northampton and the Earls of Arundel, Huntingdon, and Pembroke had arrived and were desirous of seeing her.
'What does this portend?' exclaimed my dear lady in the utmost dismay, and methought she had some idea of the truth, for she turned as pale as a corpse and wrung her hands. The Duchess of Northumberland, her mother-in-law, had dropped some hints in her letters of wonderful good fortune in store for her, and Lady Jane had spoken of it to me. But I had never ventured to acquaint her with my knowledge of the schemes of those who meant to place her on the throne when anything happened to our king. I felt instinctively that anything of that sort would distress her infinitely, and there was, besides, a dignity about her and a gracious reserve which caused me always to allow her to take the lead in our conversations. My heart smote me now, however, that I had not striven in some sort to prepare her mind for what was manifestly in store for her, and I wished that I had kept my promise to Lady Caroline Wood and had spoken of all that I had seen and heard at Woodleigh Castle in relation to Protestantism and Papacy, the kingdom and herself. It was too late now to say anything; I could only whisper to her to take courage and hope for the best.
'But, Margery,' she said, 'I fear this visit of noble dukes and lords betokens no good. I would that I were a simple country maid,' she added wistfully, 'that I might be left alone with my books and studies. However,' she pulled herself together, 'whatever happens, "I must hold to the road that leads above, and justice with prudence always pursue,"' and, with those words of her beloved Plato on her lips, she went forward to meet her fate and the visitors who were its harbingers.
I and Mistress Ellen stood in the background of the great hall as Lady Jane advanced with quiet dignity to meet her guests. Her fair young face was troubled, but she smiled pleasantly as she looked up at her father-in-law and his companions.
'To what,' she inquired, 'to what do I owe the honour of this visit?'
'We are a deputation,' said the Duke of Northumberland, whom I saw for the first time—he was a handsome man, with fine strongly marked features and a gallant, soldierly bearing, and he was richly apparelled in black velvet.
'A deputation to whom?' queried my mistress as he paused.
'To you, madam,' was the instant response. 'You see here,' waving his hand towards those that accompanied him, 'the Marquis of Northampton and the Earls of Arundel, Huntingdon and Pembroke. We have come to announce to you the sorrowful tidings of the death of the king, your cousin.'
'Dead! Is he dead?' exclaimed Lady Jane sadly.
'Yes, madam, he is dead.'
'Ah! poor Edward! Kings as well as paupers have to die.' The tears came into her eyes.
'Yes, madam,' said the Marquis of Northampton. 'Death comes to all alike. High and low, rich and poor, good and bad, all have to die.'
'Death is the last enemy,' observed the Earl of Arundel sententiously.
'I like better to think of him as a friend,' said Lady Jane, 'who comes when all others fail us, like a nurse saying, "My child, lie down and sleep. You are tired now, therefore all goes wrong. You will awake by and bye to a new life where everything is well."'
Her voice became lower and lower as she spoke, and a beautiful look shone in her face, as of one whose faith is great. One or two of the gentlemen seemed impressed, but the Duke of Northumberland frowned impatiently.
'We have no time to stand sentimentalizing here,' he said. Then, addressing Lady Jane more particularly, he continued, 'Madam, we have much to say to you, and there are great matters to consider. The king is dead, but there is the kingdom.'
'True. Our dear England.'
'For which the late king did so much,' said the Earl of Pembroke. (Mistress Ellen whispered their names or I should never have known one from the other.) 'Strengthening the Protestant cause and abolishing Roman Catholicism from the land.'
'Yes, indeed,' assented Lady Jane.
'Before he died,' said the Duke of Northumberland, 'the king was in great concern that the Church should continue in the form and spirit in which it now is.' He paused, looking meaningly at my mistress.
If I had only prepared her mind, as I had been told to do, she would have understood, but, as it was, she looked startled and bewildered.
'Surely,' she said at length, seeing that they waited for her to speak, 'surely nothing can disturb our Church, which in its present form is so deeply rooted in the affections of all Protestant people?'
'Of all Protestants, yes,' said the Duke of Northumberland. 'But what of the Papists? You know, madam, there are many Papists in England who are waiting, longing, and watching for an opportunity to restore their creed and ritual to the whole land.'
'But they can never do that,' said Lady Jane. 'England would not tolerate it now.'
'Our late king,' continued the Duke of Northumberland solemnly, 'was well aware that if his sister, Princess Mary, who is a bigoted Papist, were to succeed to the throne, all his efforts for the established Church would be annulled and overthrown. Feeling this deeply, and knowing well what misery and woe would come upon his people if this happened, he took steps, whilst yet he was alive, to put aside his sisters, who had indeed been declared illegitimate by Act of Parliament, and secure the succession to one whose Protestantism is beyond dispute.' He paused.
Lady Jane started and looked at him with widely opened eyes. No word, however, escaped from her pale lips.
'Madam,' said the duke, 'actuated by that reason and also by the wish to preserve the kingdom from the disputes the illegitimacy of his sisters might occasion, our late monarch made his will, passing them over and bequeathing the crown to his true legitimate heir who, he was well aware, held the true faith. He, therefore, in his will ordered the Council to proclaim you queen.'
Every vestige of colour left my dear lady's face, and she looked round affrightedly as if for some way of escape, making a gesture of dissent, though no word fell from her lips.
She was only sixteen years of age, and anything more opposed to her disposition and love of retirement and study could not well have been proposed.
'And in the case of your having no children your sisters Catherine and Mary are to succeed you,' went on the Duke of Northumberland.
Still Lady Jane said not a word, but the look in her eyes made me press forward nearer to her, saying in my heart, 'If I had only prepared you for this!'
The attendant nobles fell upon their knees, declaring that Lady Jane Grey was queen, and vowing that they would defend her rights to the death, if necessary.
It was such a sight as you have never seen, all those high-born lords upon their knees before a slim young girl, who only a year before was a child, and she staring at them with wide eyes out of a fear-stricken, pallid countenance.
The tension only lasted a few moments and then, with a piercing cry, my dear Lady Jane fell to the floor.
I was on my knees by her side before any one else, and was trying to raise her head when there was another commotion in the hall caused by the entrance of her mother, the Duchess of Suffolk, who had come over from Sheen House, on the other side of the river, accompanied by the Duchess of Northumberland and the Marchioness of Northampton. These great ladies swept down upon us, and would have ordered me away, there and then, if looks could have done it, but I would not leave my mistress to their tender mercies, and continued to support her head on my lap, so that I could not be removed without disturbing her.
In a little while she came round out of her swoon, and then, seeing her mother and mother-in-law, began to entreat them and the Duke of Northumberland very pitifully not to lay the burden of royalty upon her, declaring herself to be a most unfit person to reign in Edward's place, and saying over and over again that, in spite of all that had been said, the Princess Mary and, after her, the Princess Elizabeth were the rightful heirs to the throne.
It was in vain that the duke and duchess urged considerations of the harm which would befall Protestantism if Princess Mary reigned, and of the dissensions which might rend the land if the legitimacy of the queen were doubtful; the Lady Jane only said—
'Other wrongs do not make a wrong right. I am sure Princess Mary is the rightful queen, and I should be a usurper if I were to take her place.'
Again and again she said the same thing, praying and beseeching them not to force her to become queen.
'Think you,' she said, 'that the great God who made heaven and earth cannot take care of Protestantism and this beloved England of ours without the help of a young girl like me? Do you think that by doing what my conscience tells me is wrong I can advance the cause of the High and Holy One?'
But it was all in vain. They would not listen to her. Their minds were set upon making her queen, more for their own advancement than for the good of their country, and in their eyes she was a child who was to be made to do the thing that they pleased.
When she became ill with terror and distress and crying we took her to her bedroom, and when she implored that they would leave her there alone with me the Duchess of Suffolk said, 'No, I shall stay with you myself.'
'And so shall I,' said the Duchess of Northumberland.
Then they turned me out of the room, together with Mistress Ellen, that they might the better take poor Lady Jane in hand, and we heard a pitiful cry from her as the bolt of the door was slid, leaving us on the outside and her within alone with them.
My heart was wrung with seeing my dear lady's affliction, and when the Duchess of Northumberland and the Duchess of Suffolk, her mother, peremptorily turned me out of the bedroom, scarcely knowing what I did I ran downstairs and out of the big house by a side door.
A great longing to escape from those wealthy hard-hearted magnates, who for ambition were willing and even wishful to sacrifice the happiness of the sweetest being on earth, made me flee from their presence and, what was almost worse, the presence of their proud and haughty retainers. In the garden I thought I should have solitude, but, alas, it was already thronged with lords and ladies, talking together in groups, and meaner folk gossiping as they went hither and thither at their masters' bidding. Seeing that I must go further away if I would be alone, I hurried across the park to presently find myself amongst the willows by the river side.
There was a slight breeze, and it stirred the leaves and even branches, making a soft sound which seemed to whisper to me some message which yet I could not catch.
Leaning back against a tree, I gazed wearily across the water gleaming so brightly in the sunshine, feeling worn by the strong emotions I had been through and scarcely knowing what I was looking for; I knew, however, when it came, for even as I stood there, silently up the river glided a boat in which a young man was seated.
Sir Hubert Blair it was, and he gave a start of glad surprise upon seeing me there, and then waved his hat in the air, and called out a hearty greeting and an earnest entreaty that I would stay where I was until he landed. For my first instinct was to flee like a startled fawn, and that although I had the strongest wish to be with him once more and tell him all my trouble.
With the utmost possible speed my lover sculled across to the little landing-stage and made fast the painter of his boat. Then he climbed the bank until he stood by my side and was holding my hands and looking down into my face with the tenderest love.
'What is it, sweetheart?' he asked, reading trouble in my eyes, and then, as I could not immediately answer him, he went on to tell me that he had been past Sion House several times in his boat, but without seeing me. 'I looked for you, dear. But you were not here,' he said. 'However, all is well that ends well, and now that I have you at last I shall not spoil the time by regretting what is past.'
He paused.
And still I could not talk, having enough to do to keep from breaking down and weeping. He therefore continued, 'I have been to your home in Sussex, and have asked your father's permission to become betrothed to you, and, after he had heard all I had to say, he willingly gave it and said that he would write to you. Has he written?'
'No,' said I, shaking my head. 'But he is ever slow to write about anything. He promises, and then he puts off doing it, for writing is ever irksome to him.'
'Ah, well, it does not matter, does it, sweet one? We understand each other, and he has consented to our betrothal, and that is quite enough,' and he pressed my hand.
'Enough truly,' said I. 'But oh!——' and I stopped short, sighing heavily, for indeed it did seem most heartless of us to be settling up our own happiness, as it were, when my poor mistress was in such dire distress.
And again Sir Hubert, reading my trouble in my face, besought me to tell him all that was distressing me.
I told him everything, not omitting my own negligence in failing to prepare my mistress for what was in store for her upon the king's death.
He knew of the latter sad event, and of course regarded the matter of Lady Jane's unhappiness quite differently from what I did.
'They are right,' he said, 'who want to make Lady Jane queen instead of the Papist Mary. Think of the horrors that would befall this land if Roman Catholicism prevailed. Have you forgotten all I told you about the awful Inquisition? Consider what it would be if established here in England. No one would be safe. You might be talking to me one half hour and the next that which is worse than the grave might have swallowed me up for ever, or perchance you. No one is secure where secret deaths and tortures pervade the land. Oh, the misery, the weeping of loving relations for their friends who have vanished from them in that way! You have no idea what it is like. And even,' he continued earnestly, 'even if Lady Jane does not want to be queen, it is expedient that one should suffer a little rather than many a great deal. And she ought to be glad,' he concluded zealously, 'she ought to be glad that she is chosen to do a great work for England. As a true-hearted woman, she will be ready and willing to sacrifice herself for others.'
'Yes,' said I, 'she will, I know, if she can be brought to look at it in that way. No discomfort to herself will in her mind militate against doing the thing that is right.'
'Therefore she will do it.'
'But the question is, would it be right for her to accept the crown?' said I. 'She has a great love of justice, and she thinks the Princess Mary ought to be queen.'
Sir Hubert, upon that, gave utterance to the usual arguments about the alleged illegitimacy of the royal princesses, and said, moreover, that to his mind the last will and testament of King Edward, making Lady Jane Grey heir to the crown, settled the matter. Yet I was not convinced that my mistress would accept such reasoning, and, although I hesitated to say so, my lover read that also in my face, and looked disappointed.
'They say a woman never can be convinced against her will,' he said at length, adding, 'Would that I could talk to her on the subject!'
'That would be best,' said I, 'for you have such a wise way of putting it, Sir Hubert.'
'Oh, you must not call me Sir Hubert,' said he, and then a little fond, affectionate lovers' talk ensued, which I am not so foolish as to write down here. For, though it is the loveliest language to those concerned, it spelleth out ridiculously to the critical ears of others, who wholly lack the key to unravel its correct meaning.
And then, all too soon, we had to part, Sir Hubert to mingle with some lords and knights on the great lawn, there to await the Duke of Northumberland's commands—for to the latter all men's eyes were directed of those who hoped for a Protestant succession—whilst I had to hasten back to the neighbourhood of my mistress' bedroom, that I might take advantage of the first chance of entering it.
The Duchesses of Northumberland and Suffolk did their best to make my mistress give in to their will and consent to be made queen, but her pure, brave heart could not be forced by severity and harsh treatment; those ambitious, callous-hearted women might kill her body—it was a frail one—but they could not conquer her mind or bend her spirit; it required another force, the holier one of love, with its softening, penetrating influence to do that; and love, her love for her husband, Lord Dudley, and obedience to his commands it was which finally succeeded where all else had failed.
'I could not resist my dear lord, Margery,' she confessed to me, when early the next morning I at last obtained access to her bedroom. 'God forgive me if I am doing wrong,' she said. 'But Paul the Apostle taught us that the head of the woman is the man, and that a wife's duty is to obey——' She paused, looking at me piteously, and I saw that in her own mind, in spite of her words, she was not yet convinced.
'And it is for the good of the nation, madam,' said I.
'It is for no good I fear, Margery,' said my mistress, sighing deeply. 'And it is neither prudent nor just.'
I knew that she was thinking of Plato's words, 'Justice with prudence we shall by all means pursue,' and my heart ached for her.
'How can I wear the crown which lawfully belongs to another?' she moaned. 'But it will not be for long. Princess Mary is away from London just now, having fled for her life, until she can rally her party. But she will return, I know, and the justness of the nation will place her at its head—for it is idle talk about the slur on her birth. Her mother was lawfully married to King Henry, and it was only for his own vicious ends that he put her away. However, Margery, we must leave all this, for it is no use dwelling upon it now that I have promised Lord Dudley to obey his wishes.'
She sobbed again and again, as we dressed her regally for the grand doings of that day, and every sob went to my heart and made me echo it, until she ceased weeping to wipe my tears away, and Mistress Ellen said I was nothing but a hindrance, and began to rate me sorely.
When Lady Jane was dressed for the ceremony—I had almost said sacrifice—she looked wondrously young and lovely. Her figure was tall, slight and well proportioned, giving promise of great beauty. Her dress—which the duchesses had brought with them for the occasion—was a gown of cloth of gold trimmed with pearls, a stomacher blazing with diamonds and other precious stones, and a surcoat of purple velvet bordered with ermine. Her train was of purple velvet and was also edged with ermine and richly embroidered in gold. Her slender and swan-like throat was encircled with a carcanet of gold set with rubies and pearls, from which hung one almost priceless pearl. Her headdress was a coif of velvet adorned with rows of pearls and bound together by a circlet of gold.
I had never seen such grand attire in my life and was feeling quite overwhelmed by it, when Mistress Ellen said in my ear, 'I like not so many pearls. It is said they mean tears, and truly our mistress was tearful enough in the putting of them on. God grant that she may not also take them off in tears!'
Lady Jane lingered a little in her room when we had dressed her, as if reluctant to quit it.
'I have been often very happy here,' she said wistfully, 'and I know not what the future may have in store for me.'
I wished then, and I wished often afterwards, that I could have spoken out and told her all that Sir Hubert would have said to her if he had had the chance, but could only think of some of his words and of those Lady Caroline Wood had made me promise to say, and therefore faltered—
'Dear madam, do not think of yourself now, but only of the people of England. You know it is for their good that you are going to sacrifice your own wishes.'
'For their good!' she exclaimed. 'Oh, Margery, if I could think it was for their real good I could go cheerfully to death if needs be!'
'Who is talking of going to death on this joyful occasion?' exclaimed Lord Guildford Dudley, entering the room after a hasty knock at the door. 'For shame, Jane, to croak in that way at the very moment of your elevation to the first place in the land.'
Lady Jane flushed a little at the reproof, but instantly smiled with her usual sweetness, then a look of admiration came into her eyes as they fell upon her husband.
He was magnificently attired in white cloth of gold, and wore a collar of diamonds, and his handsome face and manly figure, with the indefinable air of chivalry which characterized both him and his father, made him appear to us to look truly regal.
His eyes swept appraisingly over his young wife's beauty and her gorgeous dress, then, with a little bow and a whispered compliment, he offered his arm and took her downstairs into the great hall thronged with highborn gentlemen and ladies.
Mistress Ellen and I were perforce separated from Lady Jane, as our place was taken by great Court ladies, but when the cavalcade, of which Lord Guildford Dudley and Lady Jane were the centre started for London, we formed part of the vast following of servants and dependants.
So they took my precious mistress in great state, first of all to Northumberland House in the Strand, the residence of her father-in-law, where she received the homage of many of her chief subjects, and afterwards, with her husband and the Duke and Duchess of Northumberland, the Duke and Duchess of Suffolk, and other magnates, partook of a great State banquet, the grandeur of which seemed to me truly amazing and like unto a fairy tale.
In the midst of it all, having been overlooked and being bewildered and afraid, Mistress Ellen and I would perchance actually have suffered hunger if Sir Hubert Blair and Sir William Wood, who were among the Duke of Northumberland's following, had not found us out and got a place for us among some fine Court ladies, with whom, to my joy, was Lady Caroline Wood.
'This is a great day,' she said, 'Mistress Margaret, for England and for her,' and she looked across the table to Lady Jane's pale though beautiful face.
'Yes, indeed,' I rejoined, beginning my repast with all haste, for many of those present were finishing, and the claims of hunger made themselves felt.
'It was one to which we were looking forward when you visited our castle,' she went on, 'and one for which that visit prepared you.'
I coloured a little as I ate my soup, fearing lest she should inquire if I had done my best to prepare Lady Jane's mind for the part she was to play, but a true lady is careful not to embarrass another, so my companion went on chatting pleasantly while I ate and drank, and it was only when I ended that she inquired if my father's consent had been obtained to my betrothal to Sir Hubert Blair. I answered in the affirmative, and thereupon she fell to praising Sir Hubert with such zest that I loved her dearly and thought, after my dear mistress, she was the nicest kindest woman I had ever seen.