Traditions of Lancashire Volume I Part 70

"Come, Elizabeth," said her mother, "lay thy gear aside; the strawberries are in the bowl, and the milk is served. Supper and to bed, and a brisk nap while morning."

The dame who addressed her was a perfect specimen of the good housewife in the fifteenth century. She wore a quilted woollen gown, open before, with pendant sleeves, and a long narrow train; a corset, fitted close to the body, unto which the petticoats were attached, and a boddice laced outside. She wore the horned head-dress so fas.h.i.+onable towards the close of the fourteenth century, and at that time still in use, giving the head and face no slight resemblance to the ace of hearts. An ap.r.o.n was tied on with great care, ornamented with embroidery of the preceding century. Her complexion, was dark but clear, and her eyebrows high and well-arched. Her mouth was drawn in, raised slightly on one side,--a conformation more particularly apparent when engaged in scolding the maids, or in other similar but indispensable occupations.

Her gait was firm, and her person upright. Her age--ungallant historians we must be--was verging closely upon sixty; yet her hair, turned crisp and full behind her head-dress, showed slight symptoms of the chill which h.o.a.r and frosty age, sooner or later, never fails to impart.

Elizabeth Tempest was young, but of a staid and temperate aspect, almost approaching to that of melancholic. Her complexion, pale and sallow; her eye full, dark, and commanding, though occasionally more languor was on it than eyes of that colour are wont to express. She wore a long jacket of russet colour, and a crimson boddice. Her hair, turned back from her brow, hung in dark heavy ringlets below the neck, which, though not of alabaster, was exquisitely modelled. In person she was tall and well-shapen, and her whole manner displayed a mind of no ordinary proportions. She was well-skilled in household duties, her mother having an especial desire that her daughter should be as notable and thrifty as herself in domestic arrangements.

"Elizabeth," or "Elspet," as she was indiscriminately called, cared little about her reputation touching these important functions. She could sing most of the wild legendary ballads of the time; her rich full voice had in it a sadness ravis.h.i.+ngly tender and expressive, more akin to woe, and the deep untold agony of the spirit, than to lightness and mirth, in which she rarely indulged.

"Give us one of thy ditties ere supper," said the dame, who was just then laying aside her implements in the work-press. "I wonder thy father does not return. The roofs of Bashall ring with louder cheer than our own, I trow. He is playing truant for the nonce, which is dangerous play at best."

"Is he now at our cousin Talbot's?" inquired the maiden, with a look of more than ordinary interest.

"If he be not on the way back again," returned the dame, as though wishful to repress inquiry.

"The woods are not safe so late and alone. Comes he alone, mother?"

"Alone! Ay,--and why spierest thou?" The dame looked wistfully, though but for a moment, on her daughter; then changing her tone, as if to recommend a change of subject, she cried--

"Come, ha' done, Elspet; we will wait no longer than grace be said. Now to thy song."

The maiden began as follows:--

1.

"There sits three ravens on yon tree, Heigho!

There sits three ravens on yon tree, As black, as black, as they can be.

Heigho, the derry, derry, down, heigho.

2.

"Says the first raven to the other, Heigho!

Says the first raven to the other, 'We'll go and eat our feast together.'

Heigho, &c.

3.

"'It's down in yonder gra.s.s-grown field, Heigho!

It's down in yonder gra.s.s-grown field, There lies a dead knight just new killed.'

Heigho, &c.

4.

"There came a lady full of woe, Heigho!

There came a lady full of woe, And her hands she wrung, and her tears did flow.

Heigho, &c.

5.

"She saw the red blood from his side, Heigho!

She saw the red blood from his side,-- 'And it was for me my true love died!'

Heigho, &c.

6.

"'Oh, cruel was my brother's sword, Heigho!

Oh, cruel, cruel, was his sword, But sharper the edge of one scornful word.'

Heigho, &c.

7.

She laid her on his bosom cold, Heigho!

She laid her on his bosom cold, While adown his cheek her tears they rolled.

Heigho, &c.

8.

"No word she spake, but one sob gave she, Heigho!

No word she spake, but one sob gave she: Said the ravens, 'Another feast have we, And long shall thy rest and thy slumbers be.'

Heigho, the derry, derry, down, heigho!"

At the concluding stanza in walked Oliver Tempest, who, as if to avoid notice, sat down, without uttering a word, in a dark corner at the opposite side of the hall. He looked moody, and wishful to be alone.

Joan, for a while, forbore to interrupt his reverie, and the females finished their evening repast in silence.

"Is Sir Thomas Talbot yet returned from the Harringtons?" inquired the dame soon after, with an air of a.s.sumed carelessness.

"He returned an hour only ere I departed."

Another pause ensued.

"And his son Thomas, comes he back from the Pudsays of Bolton? Does the gentle Florence[59] look on him kindly, or is the wedding yet delayed?"

"I know not," was the brief reply. After a short pause he continued--"The wanderer has left Bolton, I learn, and, 'tis said, he bides at Whalley."

Here he cast a furtive look at the domestics, and then at his wife, as though wishful to ascertain if others had understood this intimation.

"Nay, some do boldly affirm that he has been seen i' these very woods,"

continued he, lowering his voice to a whisper.

"Which Heaven forefend!" said the wary dame. "I would not that he should draw us down with him to the same gulf wherein his fortune is o'erwhelmed. No luck that woman ever brought him from o'er sea, and now she's gone"--

"They say that she hath escaped to Flanders," said Oliver, hastily interrupting her.

"I wish he had been so fortunate," said the dame; "what says our cousin Talbot?"

"Hush, dame; our plans are not yet ripe. But more of this anon."

Elizabeth listened with more interest than usual. Every word was eagerly devoured, and with the last sentence she could not forbear inquiring--

"And Edmund?--surely Edmund Talbot is not"--

"What?" sternly inquired her father; "what knowest thou of--? Said I aught whereby thou shouldst suspect us?"

"Hush, thou foolish one," said the more cautious dame; "thy thought alone was privy to it, and so no more. There be others listening."

The moonbeams now crept softly into the chambers, whither, too, crept the weary household; the master and his wife remaining for a short time together in the hall, apparently in earnest discussion. But Elizabeth retired not to her couch. She pa.s.sed softly through the courtyard, looking round as though in search of some individual. This proved to be the hunchback Gregory, whom she found esconced behind a peat-stack in marvellous profundity of thought. With a soft step, and one finger raised to her lips, she gently tapped him upon the shoulder.