Mistress Penwick Part 32

"Nay, I shall not say that--but--whenever thou dost wish it."

"Of a surety? When I name the hour, wilt thou not gainsay?"

"Nay, my lord. I will not gainsay."

"Then--at eleven, Katherine." She caught her breath quickly and cried forth,--

"This day, Sir Julian! Indeed, thou art in haste, I--I--"

"Thou hast given thy word. At eleven, Katherine."

"By sands or dial?"

"Ah, sweet Katherine, both shall have a bridal favour. We will confer with each. When the golden sand runs out at the eleventh hour, the dial will be alone and in shadow; for if it please thee, we must be wed secretly and in haste. I noticed but awhile ago how beautiful the dial was. So the sands shall give us the hour, the dial the altar, and the nightingale the nuptial ma.s.s."

"But the priest, Sir Julian--"

"He shall give us the blessing--"

"Nay, nay; where wilt thou find a priest?" This was not an unexpected question, and Sir Julian was ready for it.

"Lord Cedric's Chaplain can wed us as securely as one of thy church, and as there is no one else, he will serve, will he not, Katherine?"

"Until we find a better."

"Then, not to arouse suspicion, to-night at eleven thou wilt come to the sun-dial and I will meet thee at the foot of the stair that leads from thy chamber to the terrace, and then--'twill be soon over and thou, thou, Katherine, will be--wife. Wilt not regret it,--art sure?"

he repeated as she shook her head negatively.

"But why do all men appear in such haste to wed? I would have time to at least think upon it."

"Dost forget that at any moment may come a courier from the King to recall thee; and if so, thou wouldst be obliged to go and be separated from us, perhaps forever? Thou dost not know what may befall thee at any moment. Thou dost belong to France, and art hostage to England--thou wilt be ready at eleven?"

"Aye, at eleven."

"We will be cautious and not speak above a whisper. The Chaplain will speak low, too; but he is a good soul and would make us fast wed whether we heard him or not." Again he kissed her forehead; she turned rose-red and ran from him hastily. She thought not once of Cedric. Had she done so, 'tis possible she never would have gone to the dial that summer night. She flew to her chamber aflame with this new thing she thought was love. And felt relief that soon Sir Julian, the strong and brave, would take away all her discomfort. He would fight her battles for her, go with her to the King and stand by her side and his Majesty would not dare to offer her insult. It would be a sweet task to convert Sir Julian to her faith. He would became a great Catholic leader. Her breast fairly swelled with pride in antic.i.p.ation.

CHAPTER XXI

THE ESPOUSAL

Night had come richly laden with the perfume of many flowers, that the darkness seemed to make more pungent, and more distinct to the ear the night sounds. There was no moon, and the thick foliage produced a deep, dark density, mysterious and sweet. The grand terraces about the castle were still, save for the buzz of summer insects and the low, sleepy twittering of birds. There was not a star to be seen and only the glow-worm lent an occasional lilliputian effulgence to the great, dark world. All within the castle appeared to have retired earlier than usual; perhaps for the purpose of an earlier awakening, as their Graces of Ellswold were to set out early on the morrow morning, aiming to make some great distance on their journey before the heat of midday. At a quarter after the hour of ten Janet had kissed her mistress, leaning over her pillow with even more affection than usual.

"Good-night, my Lambkin, my child, my precious maid--good-night and G.o.d bless thee!" then snuffed the candles and left her.

Katherine gave no thought to regret, indeed she went so far as to smile at Janet's consternation, when she should find out that for once her "Lambkin" had fooled her. Quickly she leapt from her bed and dressed herself for the first time alone. Though her fingers were deft and skillful at the tapestry frame, and neat and clever at limning, they were slow and bungling when drawing together the laces of her girdle, indeed 'twas very insecurely done, and when she was dressed she had forgotten her stays, and but for the lateness of the hour would have disrobed and donned them. It seemed like an endless task to try and dress again by the poor light of the single candle, screened by her best sunshade in the far corner of the room. She had donned a pale, s.h.i.+mmering brocade. About her neck she twined her mother's pearls, and took up the opal shoulder knot of Cedric's mother's and was about to fasten it when some subtle thought stole the desire from her, and she laid it back in the casket with a sigh. Instead, she placed a bunch of jasmine as her shoulder-brooch, and extinguis.h.i.+ng the light went forth to meet her husband by the sun-dial.

She pa.s.sed out by the door that led on to a small balcony and a-down the flight of outside stairs that were covered with vines in purple bloom. Although the darkness was almost impenetrable, she could distinguish a form waiting at the foot of the stair. For an instant she paused and whispered timourously,--

"Who art thou?"

"Julian," came as softly back, and a white hand was stretched out to her. Down she flew, intrepid.

"Would I send another to meet thee; didst thou think to turn back, my Katherine?"

"Nay, I should not have turned back; but 'twas a.s.suring to hear thy name. I am not afraid, yet--yet I tremble."

"And 'tis sweet of thee so to do; 'tis maidenly that thou shouldst; 'tis the way of woman. Thou art not afraid, yet thou dost tremble; thou dost try to be brave, yet thou must be a.s.sured, and I am here by thy side to a.s.sure thee ever," he whispered in her ear.

Down they swept across the upper terrace. Slowly they crossed the greensward, with fairy-like light of firefly to illumine the way; speaking as lovers will, with bated breath. The wind blew gently now and again, casting a shower of petals upon them as they pa.s.sed. When the leaves shone white, the cavalier would say:

"We are so blessed, nature herself doth sprinkle the bridal path with flowers;"--or, when there fell a darksome shower, Katherine would press close to her lover's side and say,--

"Indeed, Julian, these are petals from those blood-red roses that have hung in such profusion all summer. It may have some significance. I believe I must return; 'tis not too late to recede."

Then the cavalier drew her closer than before, and so tenderly did plead with her, she forgot her fears. So step by step they neared the thicket where stood the ancient sun-dial that was well-nigh hid with bridal roses.

The Chaplain stood ready; his fragile, pale countenance, hid by the darkness. There was no faltering now. Katherine did not think to turn back; that her heart was not with Sir Julian, that she would ever regret this greatest moment in her life, but stood resolute.

The Chaplain began the ceremony at once, and so softly one could scarcely hear a yard away. Katherine was agitated with the thought that she was really being wedded, and hardly heeded when the Chaplain raised or lowered his voice; appearing almost like one in a dream, so blinded was she with the glamour of her new estate.

At last the Chaplain said the final words, p.r.o.nouncing the twain as one, and gave his blessing in a somewhat stronger voice that carried in it a note of triumph, and was about to step down from the pedestal of the dial when there flew out from the darkness a young man with drawn sword, who dashed immediately upon the young husband. Barely had the cavalier time to draw aside his wife, and drawing his sword as he did so, when his _de trop_ guest made a fierce attack upon him. The young husband cried out as he met the thrust,--

"Nay, nay, nay, by G.o.d nay!" It appeared his antagonist was becalmed of speech, for he answered not but struggled to do so. Failing to find his voice, however, he gave a lunge, which was met by a parry that made him mad, and for a moment ground his teeth as fiercely as he wielded his sword. The young cavalier threw himself on guard in carte, which sent his opponent to giving such thrusts that quickly betrayed his lack of skill and also his deadly intentions. These were met by quick parries. Then the mad antagonist made a sweeping bend and thrust at the cavalier's heart. This was met with a disengage. The mad youth, well spent with anger and want of breath, broke out pantingly,--

"Thou wouldst play the honourable as thou playest the part of Sir Ju--" His last word was cut short by a quick thrust of steel that felled him to the sward. Mistress Katherine stood as if frozen, her hands held tightly in those of the Chaplain, who whispered that it might cost her husband his life should she interfere. He also a.s.sured her, saying that the adversary was no swordsman, as she herself soon saw. Some one came running from the castle at the same time Katherine knelt beside the fallen man. But her husband whispered quickly,--

"Nay, nay; arise, Sweet; he is unworthy thy solicitude. Come with me.

I gave him but a puny thrust. The Chaplain will look after him." He put his arm about her and raised her up and drew her away, saying, much out of breath,--"I must not be seen, dost know?" She took fright, fearing her lord's danger. Quickly they traversed the terrace and reached the stair leading to Katherine's chamber. As she laid her hand upon the railing, she said timourously,--"I would hear how serious is the wound before I go inside!"

"But, Katherine," he whispered, "'twas no more than the p.r.i.c.k of a pin; beside, dost not thou have anxiety for thy lover's freedom; hast forgotten our lord's temper when he finds I have so disgraced his house by fighting 'neath the very windows? And if the fellow can talk and tells of the marriage, why, I'm undone, and they will begin a search." All the while he led her further up the stair, she unwitting, until they stood fairly inside the threshold and his foot struck against some obstacle.

"Sh-s.h.!.+" she enjoined, "Janet is within yonder room and will hear thee; she may already be awake and prying about to know what is astir upon the terrace!"

"Indeed, I think thou hadst better hide me!"

"Nay, I cannot; I know of no place. Dost thou not know of a safe hiding?"

"I am safest here in thy chamber, I am sure. I know of no other place.

And if Janet come--which I hardly think possible--thou must fly to her lighted taper and blow it out, and tell some sweet fib,--say the light pains thine eyes."

"A ruse holds not good with Janet. I cannot play upon her wit."

"Then, Sweet, I will lock the door and--"

"Nay, nay, she will hear thee, and will come to see if I have been awakened."