Part 35 (1/2)
”My mistress, I have not forgotten.”
”And thou wilt keep thy word?”
”I will keep it.”
He spoke with manifest effort; but Joan heaved a sigh of relief. She came one step nearer, and laid her soft hand upon the old servant's shoulder, looking into his face with affectionate solicitude.
”I know not if I should ask it of thee; it may cost thee thy life.”
”My life is naught, if I can but save thee from that monster, sweet mistress; but oh, if it might be by another way!”
”Nay, say not so; methinks now this is the best, the sweetest way. I shall the sooner find him, who will surely be waiting for me upon the farther sh.o.r.e. One blow, and I shall be free for ever. O Nat, this world is a sore place for helpless women to dwell in. Since he has gone, what is there for me to live for? I almost long for the hour which shall set my spirit free. They will let me see the Holy Father, who comes to wed us. I shall receive the Absolution and the Blessing; and methinks I am not unprepared. Death has no terrors for me: I have seen him come so oft in the guise of a friend. Nay, weep not, good Nat; the day will come when we all must die. Thou wouldst rather see me lying dead at thy feet than the helpless captive of the Sanghurst, as else I must surely be?”
”Ay, lady,” answered the old man, between his shut teeth, ”ten thousand times rather, else would not this fond hand strike the blow that will lay thy fair young head in the dust. But sooner than know thee the wife of yon vile miscreant, I would slay thee ten times over. Death is soon past -- death comes but once; but a life of helpless misery and agony, that I could not bear for thee. Let them do what they will to me, I will set thee free first.”
Joan raised the strong, wrinkled hand to her lips and kissed it, before the old retainer well knew what she was doing. He withdrew it in some confusion.
”Good Nat, I know not how to thank thee; but what I can do to save thee I will. I do not think my father will suffer thee to be harmed if when I am dead thou wilt give him this packet I now give to thee. In it I have told him many things he would not listen to whilst I lived, but he will read the words that have been penned by a hand that is cold and stiff in death. To his old love for me I have appealed to stand thy friend, telling him how and why the deed has been done, and thy hand raised against me. I think he will protect and pardon thee -- I think it truly.
”How now, Nat? What seest thou? What hearest thou? Thy thoughts are not with me and with my words. What is it? Why gazest thou thus from the cas.e.m.e.nt? What is there to see?”
”Armed men, my mistress -- armed men riding towards Basildene!” answered the old man, in visible excitement. ”I have seen the sunlight glinting on their headpieces. I am certain sure there be soldiers riding to this very door. What is their business? How have they come? Ah, lady, my sweet mistress, pray Heaven they have come to set thee free! Pray Heaven they have come as our deliverers!”
Joan started and ran to the cas.e.m.e.nt. She was just in time to see the flash of the November sunlight upon the steel caps of the last of the band of hors.e.m.e.n whose approach had been observed by Nat. Only a very small portion of the avenue leading to Basildene could be seen from these upper cas.e.m.e.nts, and the riders must have been close to the house before their approach was marked by the old man.
Now Joan flung open the cas.e.m.e.nt in great excitement, and leaned far out.
”Hark!” she exclaimed, in great excitement, ”I hear the sound of heavy blows, and of voices raised in stern command.”
”Open in the King's name; open to the Prince of Wales!”
These words were distinctly borne to Joan's listening ears as she stood with her head thrust through the lattice, every faculty absorbed in the strain of eager desire to hear.
”The King! the Prince!” she cried, her breath coming thick and fast, whilst her heart beat almost to suffocation. ”O Nat, good Nat! what can it mean? The Prince! what can have brought him hither?”
”Doubtless he comes to save thee, sweet lady,” cried the old retainer, to whom it seemed but natural that the heir of England should come forth to save his fair young mistress from her fate.
But Joan shook her head, perplexed beyond measure, yet not able to restrain the wildest hopes.
The Prince -- that n.o.ble youth so devoted to chivalry, so generous and fearless, and the friend of the twin brothers, one of whom was her lost Raymond! Oh, could it be that some rumour had reached his ears? Could it be that he had come to set her free? It seemed scarce possible, and yet what besides could have brought him hither? And at least with help so near she could surely make her woeful case known to him!
For the first time for many days hope shot up in Joan's heart -- hope of release from her hated lover by some other means than that of death; and with that hope came surging up the love of life so deeply implanted in human nature, the wild hope that her lover might yet live, that she had been tricked and deceived by the false Sanghurst --all manner of vague and unformed hopes, to which there was no time to give definite form even in her thoughts. She was only conscious that a ray of golden suns.h.i.+ne had fallen athwart her path, and that the darkness in which she had been enwrapped was changing -- changing to what?
There were strange sounds in the house -- a tumult of men's voices, the clash of arms, cries and shouts, and the tread of many feet upon the stairs.
Joan's colour came and went as she listened. Yes, surely she heard a voice -- a voice that sent thrills all through her -- and yet it was not Raymond's voice; it was deeper, louder, more authoritative. But the footsteps were approaching, were mounting the turret stair, and Joan, with a hasty movement, flung over her shoulders a sweeping supertunic lined with fur, which Peter Sanghurst had placed in the room for her use, but which she had not hitherto deigned to wear. She had but just secured the buckle and girdle, and concealed her boy's garb by the means of these rich folds of velvet, before a hand was upon the latch of the door, and the same thrilling voice was speaking through the panels in urgent accents.
”Lady -- Mistress Joan -- art thou there?”
”I am within this turret -- I am here, fair sir,” answered Joan, as calmly as her beating heart would allow. ”But I cannot open to thee, for I am but a captive here -- the captive of Peter Sanghurst.”
”Now a prisoner bound, and answering for his sins before the Prince and some of the highest n.o.bles of the land. Lady, I and my men have come to set thee free. I come to thee the bearer of a message from my brother -- from Raymond de Brocas. Give my stout fellows but a moment's grace to batter down this strong door, and we will set thee free, and take thee to the Prince, to bear witness against the false traitor, who stands in craven terror before him below!”