Mistress Penwick Part 18

"Promise,--promise of what?" and she listened eagerly to his next words.

"Dost thou not covet a Prince's favour?" Constance' heart fluttered mightily, and she thought--"A fig for Cedric's love of me. He loves not at all, compared with this man's warm pa.s.sion. Cedric loves me not at all, anyway. I will be a Prince's favourite," and she answered,--

"I never covet that which is beyond my reach." 'Tis often a true thing that when we sit within our dark and dismal chamber without comfort, hope or happy retrospection, there stands upon the threshold a joyous phenomenon of which we have never so much as dreamt as being in existence; and this had come to Constance. If the Duke loved her, what would it matter if Cedric did love Katherine? She could not compel him to love her.

"Ah, sweet Katherine, how can one covet that they already possess? I would teach thee to enjoy all that such beauty as thine is heir to.

Thou wilt come to me to-night?"

"To-night!" and Lady Constance fairly gasped.

"To-night, fair one, on the stroke of nine thou wilt pa.s.s through the postern door of the castle and fall into my arms,--here, take this, sweet, to pledge thyself." He slipped from his finger a ring of marvellous beauty and essayed to place it upon her hand.

"Nay, I cannot. I should be seen to go forth at so early an hour,--and I know thee not!"

"Thou art not afraid of me? Nay, I am one of the most gentle and tender--"

"But where wilt thou take me, your Grace?"

"I will take thee to my heart, and if thou art unhappy, thou mayest return when thou desirest; but 'twill be my pleasure to keep thee with me alway; we will go to London." Constance, having read the letter, knew it would not do for her to leave the drawing-room at the same hour with Katherine, and she hardly knew what to do.

"Indeed, I have no wish to see a duel upon my Lord Cedric's grounds, thou must come later. My love will perhaps wait an hour,--thou mayest come at twelve."

"And allow him to come first and steal thee; nay, I protest."

Constance felt somewhat dubious. The Duke saw it, and hastened to rea.s.sure her.

"If thou wilt sit near the window on the stroke of nine, I will let thy lover go; but if thou dost pa.s.s from my sight, I will run the fellow through; and thou mayest come to me at twelve!"

To this Constance agreed, and allowed him to place the ring; and he kissing her again with fervour, let her go, exultant.

'Twas a glorious, clear, warm night. The castle was aglow and merry.

Lady Bettie Payne and Sir Rodger Mac Veigh and Sir Jasper Kenworthy and sundry other s.h.i.+re folk had come to while away a spring night. The gentlemen were playing at cup and ball; Lady Constance and Lady Bettie were gossiping of Court scandal, when in swept her Grace of Ellswold with Mistress Penwick, the latter such a vision of loveliness the game was suspended for a moment, and Constance and Bettie looked up to see why all eyes were turned from them.

The maid wore a pale-hued brocade gown of sweeping length of skirt, and short, round bodice and low-neck and long sleeves that tightly encased her plump, pink arms. Her mother's pearls lay glistening about her slender neck, and falling low was caught again by some caprice of mode high where met sleeve and waist, and here a rare bunch of fragrant violets shone bravely as a shoulder knot.

Lord Cedric saw her first, and was well-nigh drunk with her beauty, and he advanced and bent low, kissing her hand that trembled in his own. He raised his eyes to hers, she looking fairly at him with a ready smile.

"Kate, Kate--" Such a flood of emotion came upon him he was bereft of speech. She looked at him surprised, and wondered if he knew aught.

Could it be that Sir Julian had found out anything and had spoken to Cedric? She was sure she had kept this last secret safe from all save Constance, and had not been with Sir Julian for a whole day, fearing he would find out by looking at her. Nay, he knew nothing,--beside, if he did, he would s.h.i.+eld her from Cedric's anger by keeping so great a secret. And yet it almost seemed as if the young lord knew of her desperate act; 'twas written on his face, she saw the pain upon it; and yet, how could it be? These thoughts flashed through Katherine's brain, and she tried to move from him, but an inscrutable presence held her, and she felt she must not leave him, perhaps forever, with that face so full of pain, and she spoke out a word she had never used before and one which touched his Lords.h.i.+p as nothing else could, 'twas:

"Cedric." He caught his breath with sheer excess of joy, and bent again and whispered,--

"What, Kate; what is it?" 'Twas enough, she laughed quietly and turned to Sir Julian, who had come to her side. Lady Constance was not long in finding an opportunity to speak alone with her.

"Oh, sweet," she said. "I haven't had a chance to talk with thee of my adventure," and she drew the maid aside and began volubly to speak of her encounter of the early morning. "He was most certainly of the Court. I cannot possibly mistake his manner. Indeed, I am certain he is a n.o.ble lord, and no doubt is here to bear Cantemir escort--perhaps--" and she leant close to Katherine--"it might be the King himself, who knows?" Her listener flushed and thought--

"Was it possible she was to receive such honour, and why not?" She had heard from Constance and Cantemir himself that his house was a very wealthy and important one in Russia and that the English royalty and n.o.bles made much of him. She, with her poor knowledge of the world, thought Constance spoke truth.

"I'll tell thee why I thought he was the King. He was the form, grace and elegance of his Royal Highness and kept his masque securely tied.

I'm sure it was he. And this evening,--ah, ah, how can I ever tell thee, Katherine, the honour I felt! Indeed we do not know how important Adrian is until we see those with whom he consorts. To-night I met--who dost guess it was, Katherine?"

"Nay, I could never guess, for I know not whom Adrian's friends are; but if thy friend of the morning was the King, 'tis certain the setting sun brings thee one less t.i.tled."

"'Tis so, but one who may be a King. Thou wilt never tell, Katherine?"

"Nay, never."

"'Twas the King's son, his Grace the Duke of Monmouth."

"Ah, ah, a Prince! Thou art indeed favoured. And how came it about? I am very curious." Lady Constance related part of her interview with the Duke, embellished and with many deviations--

"He said they were to be at the monastery as witnesses and intimated that the King had heard of thy wonderful beauty and grew so impatient to see thee he must either come himself or send some one he could trust. Monmouth said thy request was already granted in the King's mind, and he only waited to see thee to give it utterance. Thou dost know what a good Catholic he is, and hearing they were to send thee to ask certain things of his clemency, he has sent the Duke with other special guard to render speed and safety to thy journey to Whitehall, where great honour will be shown Adrian's fair bride." Constance so entered into the very soul of her lies, she half believed them as she gave them utterance.

The young maid was well-nigh beside herself with pleasure at the honours that were to attend her, and she gave up all idea of a backward step. And when Constance proclaimed she was to accompany her, her heart leapt up with joy. She gave no place to doubt now, 'twas an unknown quant.i.ty, and her voice trembled as she said--"It makes me perfectly content, if thou art to accompany me. Thou wilt go with me to the monastery, Constance?" For once her ladys.h.i.+p answered truthfully, but she did not know it:

"Nay, I am to join thee some time after twelve; I know not just when or where; but we are to be together. I owe this especial favour to the Duke. I am so glad thou art espoused, or will be in a short while, or I should be insanely jealous. Look, Katherine!" and Constance under cover of her handkerchief showed the ring.

"Isn't it beautiful?" said Katherine.

Mistress Penwick, like many another of her beauty and age, was inclined to be of ill-spirit when another of her s.e.x seemed to be in favour; and at Constance' sudden acquaintance with the King's son, and able to wear his ring, she was piqued, and almost wished it was herself instead; for in such intimacy there could be nothing else but a very near and exalted position at Court. The poor child--innocent of all evil seeing naught in the gaining of Royal favour but the achievement of all that was high, holy, beautiful and perfect--now for a brief moment scorned her own poor estate and fell to envying Constance, and was of a notion not to go at all to the monastery;--but if she didn't, then her religion would suffer; for who could go to the King in her place? She knew she was beautiful, and knew its influence, and was sure the King would not refuse her. Now if Lord Cedric had not forbidden her going to the monastery for confession, she could have known what they wished and gone openly with Lady Constance or Sir Julian, or perhaps just with Janet to his Majesty and gained his favour and at once have become a Lady of Honour. But no, 'twas not thus, and things were as they were, and she could not change them or retrace.

She would not engage in any game, but played upon the harpsichord and sung some of her sweetest songs; Lord Cedric ever coming to her side to turn her music or offer some little service. He was aflame with hope, for had she not called him "Cedric"?

How dear it sounded; if he might only hear her say it again. He came to her side and whispered,--

"'Twas sweet of thee to call me Cedric!"--His hand for a moment rested upon the violets at her shoulder,--"Kate, why didst thou not wear the opal shoulder-knot instead of these violets?"

"Because--I value it more than aught else, and I would not wear it on all occasions, for 'twas thy mother's choicest brooch."

"Indeed, I love it, also, Kate, for the same reason; but I would rather see thee wear it, for I love thee, Kate, thee, thee, thee." His voice was like a sob stirring her to a pity that made her sick and weak, and she turned from him hastily and began singing softly,--

"When love with unconfined wings hovers within my gates; And my divine Althea brings to whisper at the grates; When I lie tangled in her hair and fetter'd to her eye; The G.o.ds that wanton in the air, know no such liberty.

"'Stone walls do not a prison make, nor iron bars a cage; Minds innocent and quiet take that for an hermitage; If I have freedom in my love, and in my soul am free; Angels alone that soar above enjoy such liberty!'"

"Thou dost sing the words of the beautiful and amiable Richard Lovelace; I have heard my father speak of him with great affection.

The lines to Althea--his sweetheart--were written in prison. She thought him dead and married some one else. He loved her more than life,--dost believe in such love, Kate?"

"Aye, why not?--Ah, Sir Julian, hast finished,--who was victor?"

"I am modest, my Lady."

"But never too modest to hold thine own." As she spoke thus to Sir Julian, the sands of the hour-gla.s.s ran out and nine tolled from the Chapel belfry. Before the bell had ceased, Constance had drawn Cedric and Julian into a game of cards, she placing herself opposite the window, and Katherine had stepped into an adjoining pa.s.sage, and taking up her camelot cloak, with flying feet and beating heart hastened to the postern-door and slipped bolts and bars and stood without in the calm, warm night.

CHAPTER XIV