Part 16 (2/2)
”Thou dost greatly misunderstand me; he is on the contrary a most delightful person to converse with and every whit fit to be a King;--but we are not suited to each other.”
”Was it not thy father's desire for thee to soon wed and to this man?”
”Even so; but he knew not my Lord Cedric but his father; beside--”
”Well--”
”I am expecting to hear from my father in the near future--”
”Ah!”
”--and 'tis possible he will come to me or send and make some change.
I have asked him to appoint another guardian for me and my estates.”
”'Twould be a wise thing to do, no doubt; but 'tis possible Cedric has used already thine inheritance.” Mistress Penwick flushed hotly.
”Nay, thou dost judge him ill; he is above such a thing.” And Sir Julian knew what the poor maid knew not herself, and he felt 'twas a safe thing to carry through his adventure.
”Then there are two things that weigh upon thee. Thou knowest not whether to wed or become a Lady of Honour. I will warn thee that thou must not dwell long upon them, for 'tis possible if thou dost not decide very early, I will be able to help thee to nothing but--myself.”
Mistress Penwick flushed warmly and smiled back at him; and her desire for admiration drove her on and on, and she soon forgot all else save the man by her side, and it appeared that no matter how he tried to break the spell of her witchery, he could not leave her for a moment.
It fell out that before three days had pa.s.sed, they were deep in admiration of each other. Cedric was racked by doubt and fear, yet never for an instant letting go his faith in Julian. Constance was happy that Katherine was so diverted, keeping thereby Cedric from any rash moves, and giving herself time to visit the tree that often held so much of importance. And she managed to outwit the ubiquitous Janet and hailed with joy the day of the great battle when Mistress Penwick was to be removed from her pathway forever.
The disappearance of Adrian Cantemir was not spoken of--as if 'twere a matter of too small import;--and yet he hovered ominously in their minds; and Katherine most of all desired to forget her promise and every word she had spoken to him, and Constance understood and would not let her forget, planning night and day to bring them together again....
To look back from the lower terrace at the castle was to see a gorgeous display of blossom. The ivy-clad walls stood a rich background to the splendour of tinted flower. Indeed, the scene appeared not unlike an enormous nosegay lying upon a hill of moss. The night had brought showers, and from every minute projection of twig, leaf or petal glistened limpid drops, some swelling with honey and falling like dew upon the young sward. The birds twittered ceaselessly, and some young thing preening upon a light blossomy twig scattered down, anon, perfume upon some shy young fawn, and he leapt away frightened by so dainty a bath and plunged knee-deep in crystal pools and sent the stately swans skimming hurriedly to a quiet and sheltered cove.
From the Chapel came indistinctly the sound of the organ in a prelude, it would seem, to the day. 'Twas Sir Julian's wont to rise early and draw--it may be--inspiration from the full vibrant chords of sweet harmony.
From an upper cas.e.m.e.nt leant forth Mistress Penwick with a face as delicately tinted as the blossoms of the peach that flaunted their beauty at some distance. She appeared to be arranging violets--that still sparkled with rain--in an oblong porcelain box that lay flat upon the cas.e.m.e.nt. Her white jewelled fingers flitted in and out of the blue depths. Her small white teeth were but half eclipsed and there fluttered forth from her parted lips a low humming that keyed and blended with the organ. Her soft white dress enveloped her mould loosely; her long flowing sleeves, prefaced by rare lace, displaying her pink, round arm. She wore not the look of care; for she had thrown all such evil weight upon one who played in yonder sacred shrine so tranquilly, as if nothing but his own sins rested--and they but feather-weight--upon his soul. On he played, and she arranged her flowers, and up the avenue came horses' feet and Lady Constance unattended came riding near the castle and called up to the vision of beauty that leant from the window,--
”'Tis a glorious morning for riding forth. I have had a fine jaunt and met nothing but the post-boy,”--and here she showed a billet and rode close to the wall and hid it neath the ivy--”and a famous adventure which I've half a mind to pursue, after--I've 'suaged my hunger. If I ride thus every morning, I shall soon have an arm as pink and round and perfect in mould as thine own. Hast thou broken fast?”
”I have had my simple allotment, and have been down on the lower terraces and gathered these violets, and am now hungry again and Janet has gone for a wing of fowl and some wine.” At these words Lady Constance looked about her cautiously and spoke in low tones,--
”Everything is ready for thy flight. I saw Adrian this morning. He is handsomer than ever and eager to see thee, and counts the hours 'til nightfall. If 'tis possible thou art to escape unnoticed to the monastery, where the nuptials will be performed at once, then thou art to depart immediately for Whitehall, where thou wilt be made much of by the King and he will more like detain thy husband under pretext, and mayhap offer him some honour for the sake of keeping thy beauty in England.”--With a wave of the hand Mistress Penwick bade Lady Constance depart as Janet stood within the door.
The castle was astir early, as if there was naught but a glorious day before them, and they would make it of much length. It seemed as if a great peace had settled upon those ivy-clad walls, or it might be the calm that is the solemn presage of storm, and Sir Julian himself quiet beyond his wont seemed to portend the calamities that were to ensue; and after his breakfast stood at a window watching the dripping trees and whistling so softly one could not tell whether 'twere he or the birds chirping without. Cedric and Lady Constance played at battledore and shuttlec.o.c.k. Mistress Penwick sat apart, busy with thought and needle. His Grace of Ellswold sat up that morning, his wife and physicians by his side, and all were happy with the great improvement.
Meanwhile, at the monastery all was commotion. The day there would be far too short to accomplish all that was to be done. Three couriers had arrived since dawn with important dispatches. In the midst of the monks, who sat upon long benches that flanked either side of a s.p.a.cious gallery, sat Adrian Cantemir, reading the last message.
Opposite, at the table, were three monks apparently engaged upon their own affairs, but subtly watching the puzzled countenance of their guest. Finally their patience seemed to have run out and Constantine, the monk directly _vis-a-vis_ to Cantemir, coughed, cleared his throat and in low gutterals said,--
”Thy countenance is unfair; 'tis a perjury on thy happy heart.” Adrian looked up with a start, so lost was he in contemplation. His letter was prophetic of evil, and he was afraid.
”'Tis ill news, and thou wert not far wrong to bring forth thine arms. The secrets to be intrusted to my wife it seems have already reached--”
”The King?” and with the words it appeared each Abbe was upon his feet and leaning forward intent.
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