^^m
 
 iUJ 
 
 TORRI 
 
 General 
 
 Circulating Library, 
 
 Pelergate, 
 
 YORK.
 
 L I E) R^ARY 
 
 OF THL 
 
 UN IVLRSITY 
 
 or ILLI NOIS 
 
 823 
 BtS84o 
 
 V.I
 
 AN 
 
 OR, 
 
 0}^E HUSBAND AND TWO MARRIAGES. 
 
 A ROMANCE. 
 JN FOUR VOLUMES. 
 
 — •««®®QCSM»— 
 
 BY 
 
 Ji)iaitiSei!UftR^f Si nKHlW/teR^ive 
 in 201ft^Jfe fading from 
 
 JJfD HISTORICAL ACCOUNT OF SPLENDID PALJCESy SfC, 
 
 I'll read you matter, deep and dangeroiul^ 
 
 VOL. I. 
 
 LONDON : 
 PRl N TE D AT THE 
 
 FOR A. K. NEWMAN AND CO. 
 
 (Successors to Lanty Newman, 8f CoJ 
 
 LEADEN 11ALL-STREF.T, 
 
 ]8ll, 
 
 http://www.archive.org/details/oldfamilylegendo01brew
 
 8£-6 ■ 
 v.l 
 
 TO 
 
 RICHARD CUMBERLAND, Es<^, 
 
 Sir, 
 
 It is not without much 
 hesitation that I venture to dedicate 
 a Romance to the Writer, whose 
 correctness of judgment, and refine- 
 ment of taste, have obtained for him 
 the appellation of " The Terence of 
 
 ^' Enojand/' I feel that it is an un- 
 worthy offering; and request you. 
 Sir, to pardon the presumption into 
 
 §. which I have been led by genuine 
 admiration and respect. 
 
 J"^ In your person, singly, has the 
 vgj-;. r. b English
 
 II 
 
 English drama paused in its progress 
 to the most abject debasement ; and, 
 in the instance of your Henry, you 
 have presented us with such a speci- 
 men of the old school of novel-wri- 
 ting as, certainly, possesses no equal 
 among modern publications. — When 
 these circumstances stand in vivid 
 colours before my recollection, I do, 
 indeed, blush for the knights in 
 mail, and victims immolated to ba- 
 ronial ambition, ^vhoni I liave so 
 boldly dared to lay at your feet. 
 
 Though I cannot hope for your 
 sanction of my chivalric legend, I 
 still confidently trust that you will 
 pardon my temerity in addressing it 
 to your notice ; for who that is ad- 
 mitted
 
 Ill 
 
 niitted to the honour of your ac- 
 quaintance, is ignorant of the grace- 
 ful and unbounded beneficence which 
 is the master-feehng of your bosom ? 
 Your works, indeed, v/ill spread the 
 reputation of your benevolenGe to 
 distant ages. Posterity will venerate 
 that hberal spirit which has employed 
 the bright efiasions of genius, in en- 
 deavours to reconcile the jarring 
 classes of society, and to remove from 
 the forehead of the calumniated that 
 brand which ignorance and preju- 
 dice had so cruelly placed there. 
 
 The generous feeling which dic- 
 tated your delineation of the benevo- 
 lent Jew, pervades all j^gur writings. 
 It requires no critical acumen to per- 
 ceive
 
 mve that even tlie most masterly 
 strokes of your gciiius must be less 
 valued by posterity than so noble a 
 zeal of human kindness, so amiable 
 an activity of beneficence. 
 
 Allow me to subscribe myself, witli 
 the highest respect. 
 
 Sir, 
 Your obliged, 
 And most obedient servant, 
 
 J. NoRRis Brewer. 
 
 IJurst, Berks,
 
 g **^ 
 
 AN OILB FAMILY ILEGEND, 
 
 CHAP. t. 
 
 JlL LINK of indefinable tenderness biads 
 the human heart to the images of past 
 days. Let those who have seen the coffin 
 of a Henry, or of one of the barons who 
 composed his court, opened in the face 
 of day, remember the deep interest with 
 which they gazed on the senseless frag- 
 ments of the man who lived in an ase 
 which must have been long forgotten 
 had not the historian and the pc>et strug- 
 gled to retain its shadow. — But if, with 
 VOL. I. B a tremblinec
 
 9 AN OLD FAMILY I.kCEKD. 
 
 a trembling frame, yet ardent eye, we 
 could draw aside the black and appalling 
 veil that has dropped between the reign 
 of a Henry and the fragile, evanescent 
 actors in the present drama; if, with the 
 touch of some strange and potent wand, 
 we could reanimate the dormant thou- 
 sands ; — restore his castellated mansion 
 to the baron, his plume of chivalry to the 
 adventurous knight, and the blush of 
 youth and sensibility to the mistress of 
 each ; — where is the bosom that would 
 iiot glow over the visionary sc^ne ? 
 
 It was on one of the finest evenings in 
 the autumn of 1 5*27, that dame Gilibert 
 Evelyn, andMatilda, daughter of Rowland, 
 the ninth earl of Waltham, were to be 
 Keen seated at a window of the gallery on 
 the western side of the old family re- 
 sidence. 
 
 Dame
 
 AN OLD FAMILY LEGEND. S 
 
 Dame Gilibert was working a head of 
 John the Baptist, most curiously depo-. 
 sited in a huge charger. Matilda had 
 been playing on the virginals, but her 
 cheek was now rested on her hand, and 
 she was looking on — nothing ! — but in 
 that sort of way that convinced the spec- 
 tator she was thinking of a great deal. 
 Such, at any rate, was the impression 
 made by her attitude on dame Gilibert; 
 for, fastening her needle to her work, 
 and looking stedfastly on the face of her 
 niece, the good lady said, " Matilda, my 
 love ! it would much gratify m6 to know 
 on what subject your thoughts may at 
 this minute be employed.'* 
 
 It may be supposed that, on hearing 
 
 this speech, Matilda bliir^hed ; and he who 
 
 hazarded such a conjecture would, not 
 
 be altogether incorrect: — but a deadly 
 
 B 2 paleness
 
 4r AN OLD FAMILY LEGEND. 
 
 paleness preceded the glow that lent fresh 
 beauties to her face and neck. 
 
 " My thoughts, dear aunt !" replied 
 she, hastily touching the keys of the in- 
 strument — "my thoughts! — alas! they 
 are too futile for communication." 
 
 Here the lady Gilibert resumed her 
 work, and contented herself with breath- 
 ing a slight sigh. 
 
 "Nay," exclaimed Matilda, (but she 
 ran her fingers quickly over the keys 
 while she spoke, as if willing to drown 
 the controversy in music,) '' 1 must ask 
 whither the fancy of my aunt is straying, 
 when a sigh so deep agitates her bosom ?'* 
 
 *' My sigh was not deep, Matilda,'* 
 gravely replied the elder lady; "but 
 still it was not devoid of meaning ; yet," 
 resumed she, after a short pause, " had 
 itbeen heart-wrung, you well know,'* (and 
 
 she
 
 AN OLD FAMILY LEGEND. 5 
 
 she wiped a tear from her cheek,) " that 
 I have sorrows which would amply ac- 
 count for its origin. But, my dear, it 
 was a sigh of apprehension, not of grief. 
 — Matilda, you are not happy !'* 
 
 '' Now," cried Matilda, (striving to af- 
 fect a laugh, and hurrying over the keys 
 of her virginals with indistinct rapi- 
 dity) ''my aunt is jocular. Blessed with 
 her society, with an indulgent father^ 
 with rank and affluence almost above the 
 rivalry of the proudest of my associates; 
 with these, and youth and health to boot,, 
 I marvel that my aunt can think I miss of 
 happiness,'* 
 
 "Ah, Matilda 1" said lady Gilibert^ 
 with increased gravity, " may there not,, 
 with all those advantages, and more than 
 my niece has mentioned, be still some 
 latent cause for unacknowledged misery ? 
 E 3 — Again
 
 6 AN OLff FAMILY LI GEND, 
 
 •—Again that speechless^ yet most elo- 
 quent, paleness on your cheek ! Ma- 
 tilda, am I not your friend ?*' 
 
 The keys trembled beneath Matilda's 
 finger. She abruptly ceased playing, 
 and burst into tears. 
 
 " Ah, my child !" cried lady Gilibert, 
 '' emotion at least is sincere, Alas, that 
 sincerity and youth should ever be unac- 
 quainted ! Yet, there is an age at which 
 subterfuge is common to us all. May 
 that ^^e fail to be one that comes m 
 dreadful trial to the bosom of my adopted 
 daughter ! — Still no reply ! Matilda, 
 Jet me unfold to you the picture of your 
 seeming fortunes. Start not at the por- 
 traiture ; it is a picture which duty (and 
 of all degrees of duty the line most so- 
 lemn — duty to yourself) should incline 
 you to contemplate." 
 
 Matilda
 
 AN OLD FAMILY LEGEND. , 7 
 
 Matilda — but before I proceed with the 
 conversation^ let me describe those who 
 were engaged in it. — Dame Gilibert was, 
 an form, a lady of most gracious aspect, 
 ^and, in manners, one of the brightest or- 
 naments of the court of our eighth Henry 
 —that is to say, she was a personage of 
 very dignified demeanor, and perfectly 
 sensible of the deference due from the 
 vivacity of eighteen, to the matronly 
 gravity of five-and-forty. Still, all the 
 severity acquired from the modes of a 
 semi-barbarous age, and all the pride ha- 
 bitual to a dame of high blood and an- 
 cient descent, failed to obliterate in the 
 lady Gilibert's bosom the native lines of 
 tenderness and good humour. In fLict, 
 Nature had so indelibly stamped iier a 
 good woman, that custom struggled in 
 B 4 vain
 
 S AN OLD FAMILY fECrSD. 
 
 vain to make her the mere " walkiiiir 
 shadow" of quality. 
 
 Still, accident, defeated at one point, 
 rallied in another; unable, through the 
 seductive prevalence of fashion, to poi- 
 son entirely those smiling dispensations 
 of Nature which adorned the character 
 of lady Gilibert, it interposed some of the 
 most fearful trials that the human mind 
 can be supposed capable of sustaining. 
 But Nature was yet unconquered; and 
 though custom might have its minute, and 
 grief would corrode through its long, long 
 hour of silent asperity, tenderness and 
 commiseration were seen predominant. 
 vSome of those minor foibles which creep 
 in disguise to the noblest breasts, and 
 which are sure to take root, because 
 they intermingle with the specious re- 
 
 presentations
 
 AN OLD FAMILY LEGEND. 9^ 
 
 presentations of self-love, it remains for 
 the evolutions of my story to develop. 
 Matilda was every thing that can be 
 opposed to the term masculine. She 
 was neither tall nor short, yet so near to 
 both, that she appeared either, according' 
 to the preference of the beholder. Those 
 who were disposed to cavil, might, per- 
 haps, find that she was not regularly^ 
 handsome; but no pei*son could possibly 
 discover that she was plain. The physi- 
 ognomist might apprehend that Nature: 
 never meant her for a philosopher; but 
 all could read, in the bright intelligence of 
 her eye, good sense of the highest order^ 
 joined to tenderness inexpressible, lii-. 
 a word, she was lovely. If the mischiev- 
 ous little divinity,, who sometimes de- 
 lights to swim in the az^ure of an eye, and 
 is. often detected in the ambush of a dirn^ 
 a 5- ple^
 
 10 AN OLD FAMILY LEGEND. 
 
 plCj ever marked one spot peculiarly his 
 cwn^ it was certainly the lip of Matilda. 
 It was a lip for which no rose that I have 
 ever seen could furnish an apt simile, 
 and I leave it therefore to the imagina- 
 tion of the reader. ^ 
 
 CHAP. II. 
 
 In reply to the proffered delineation, 
 Matilda merely waved her hand, as if to 
 'jApress the most determined reluctance 
 towards further discourse on a subject so 
 trying; but dame Gilibert was not to be 
 diverted from her object. ^ 
 
 5 "A few
 
 AN OLD FAMILY LEGEND. 1 1 
 
 *' A few short periods/' continued she, 
 '' (if regret do not add to son^e aniinne- 
 cessary length, ) will bring the story of my 
 niece to the solemn moment in which I 
 address her. Your mother — pardon, 
 dear Matilda ! the mention of a parent 
 so revered, so deserving of reverence. 
 Ah ! pardon should indeed be requested, 
 when I recollect that one short fleeting 
 year has scarcely passed, since death, in 
 the most abrupt, most hideous of his 
 forms, tore her from the affectionate 
 embrace of her only child! Your mo- 
 ther, dear girl,, struggled to preserve the 
 equanimity necessary for her personal 
 attendance on your education, even 
 amidst the alternate indilfcrence and se- 
 verity which she experienced from your 
 father during the latter years of her che- 
 quered life." 
 
 B. G '* Surely
 
 12 AN OLD FAMILY LEGEND. 
 
 ''Surely my aunt/' sobbed Matilda, 
 "forgets her accustomed delicacy, when 
 she wounds a daughter's ear with the tale 
 of a father's transient unkindness to a de- 
 parted mother." 
 
 " Transient !" repeated d>ame Gilibert; 
 " but the word is honourable to a daugh» 
 ter's lip ! Be ii so ; transieitt then let 
 us term the unkindness — but be it re- 
 membered, that the victim found an 
 early grave ! My child, I respect your 
 feelings; but the purpose of the present 
 moment demands my retracing, though 
 with an unwilling hand, the events, 
 gloomy as well as bright, with which your 
 name stands connected ; — alas ! not your 
 feelings only, but my own, are implicated 
 — my own, that bleed at a thousand 
 wounds^ while fancy recalls the sad images 
 of past days ! Rowland, your father, aud 
 
 the
 
 AN OLD FAMILY LECTEND. IS 
 
 the potent master of these domains/ the 
 representative of the proud barony of 
 Waltham, was, as you have heard, born to 
 the adventurous fortunes of a your^ger 
 brother. Philip, the senior descendant 
 of oM earl Arthur — Philip, your uncle, 
 and — oh agony of recollection ! — my 
 husband, died on the borders of France— 
 but died, as became an Evelyn, in th€ 
 field of contest. The love of glory 
 would have been sufficient to call Philip 
 from the lap of luxury, from the enjoy- 
 ments of inertion alone; but a still more 
 weighty inducement was, at that junc- 
 ture, necessary to tear the brave earl from 
 those arms which fondly strove to retain 
 him; for I — ah, my 2>iece ! the first 
 pledge of our tender affection was then 
 struggling to behold the light on which 
 bis little eyes were soon doomed to close ! 
 
 Under
 
 14" AN OLD FAMILY LEGEND. 
 
 Under the emperor Maximilian, my hus- 
 band had made his first essay in warfare. 
 He was the prime and confidential friend 
 of that great emperor, and could not re- 
 fuse to bear arms in his quarrel. In an 
 evil and portentous hour, therefore, he 
 hastened to the Low Countries, and left 
 jYie — for ever I Oh let me not dwell on 
 the particulars ! W.iile yet I nestled to 
 my unaccustorncd breast the offspring of 
 a beloved husband, ere y*t a conscious 
 smile from my br.be had replied to the 
 glance of a dor.ting creature new to the 
 name of mother, word arrived — oh God 
 of Heaven ! I see tlie messenger's face, 
 I hear his hoarse terrific voice ! — news 
 came that my husband was killed." 
 
 '' Forbear, dear aunt 1" cried Matilda, 
 flying to the support ofthe exhausted nar- 
 rator. " I knov/ the recollection is too 
 
 mighty
 
 AN OLD FAMILY LEGEND. 1 
 
 ir.ighty foryou — oh, spare yqurself and me 
 this dreadful part of our family history." 
 "I will, my child!" returned she; 
 " indeed I will, lest it prove in truth too 
 mighty for me, and I become again deli- 
 rious. — Start not; delirious I once was; 
 — oh ! more wild than the fury of the 
 northern tempest : and wonder not that 
 madness succeeded the horrible intelli- 
 gence that I had lost a husband, and my 
 babe a father ! I do not murmur at this 
 intelligence being conveyed even to the 
 side of the bed on which I lay, sick from 
 the trials which ushered my child to life ; 
 I calVit not cruelty ; I deem it not ne- 
 glect; yet, had I been your father, and 
 a poor fond wretch lay spiritless and faint, 
 as I was, the news should have been de- 
 layed to some more fitting moment ! but 
 it is passed^ and peace be with him who 
 
 spake
 
 16 AN OLD FAMILY LEC^ZND. 
 
 spake the fatal tidings, though his face is 
 ever present to me, clothetl in terrors 
 which defy description ! My child — oh 
 niece, it was indeed a lovely babe ! its 
 lip was of coral beauty. Ah, I once felt 
 it/' ( pressing her bosom ) ^' here ! — it was 
 only once ; for, while yet my infant was 
 strained in my arms, I heard of the 
 wreck of all my fortunes. My brain 
 sickened at the sound, and they tore from 
 my phrenzied arras and fevered bosom 
 the child which I. was indeed not capable 
 longer to nurture. Brief be the conclur 
 sion of the wretched tale. My babe was 
 placed under the care of an especial 
 friend, and, doubtless^ she cherished my 
 darling with some resemblance of a mo- 
 ther's care — oh ! doubtless she fondled 
 the infant that was robbed of everv sue- 
 cour save her own. She yet lives, aiul 
 
 smiles-
 
 AN OLD FAMILY LEGEND. 17 
 
 smiles on the world. — Oh^ cuuldshesmUe, 
 if she had, for an instant, treated with 
 iinkindnewss a babe so fair, so hopeless, so 
 unprotected as mine ?" 
 
 " In truth, I think she could not,*' res- 
 ponded Matilda, with a deep sigh of com- 
 miseration. 
 
 " Bui sorrow," continued lady Gilibert, 
 *' had not yet tried me to the utmost. 
 After the lapse of I know not how many 
 wild chaotic months^ I regained my rea- 
 son, and returned to consciousness only 
 to learn that my child was dead ! My 
 supine frame wanted sensibility to mourn 
 over the fate of my babe with acute re- 
 gret ; despondency was the tribute I paid 
 to his luckless shrine ; and when, by slow 
 degrees, I awoke to more lively feeling, 
 religion lent its sovereign aid to sooth 
 my agony. That holy power/' added 
 
 she.
 
 18 AN OLD FAMILY LEGEND. 
 
 she, (crossing herself,) '' I now implore 
 to lull the impassioned recollections of 
 these moments." 
 
 *' Dearest aunt/* said Matilda, rising, 
 and tenderly embracing lady Gilibert, 
 *' you know not what anguish this mourn- 
 ful period of our story imparts to my 
 bosom. Let us wave, for the present, 
 all farther recital. In an hour yet to 
 come, we both may have more fortitude.*' 
 
 " No,** returned the aunt, '' fate, or 
 somewhat that, to my weakened mind^ 
 assumes a resemblance of its dictates,, 
 proclaims the present an hour big with 
 importance for the interests of our house 
 —-It is an hour that shall not be neglect- 
 ed. Matilda, you are aware — (May 1 pos- 
 sess tranquillity for the task I have under- 
 taken !) — you must be sensible that the 
 death of my husband, and — (oli pitiless 
 
 hie ' }—
 
 AN OLD yAMILY LEGEND. 29 
 
 fate ! ) — that of my babe, concentrate the 
 perpetuity of V/altham in your own per- 
 son. Yes, the high-waving banners of 
 this noble earldom are now placed, Ma- 
 tilda^ in your hands. They are banners 
 wrested from the iron grasp of con- 
 troversy, at the end of many a well-fought 
 battle. Oh, treasure the sacred deposit ; 
 it is steeped in the aspiring blood of 
 your ancestry ! Ponder, beloved niece, 
 on the anxiety with which your father 
 must view every action of the immediate 
 heiress to his estate and dignities. It is 
 true that earl Rowland is yet far from 
 wearing that gloomy veil of even-tide, 
 which sometimes drops on the unfortu- 
 nate ere life might be well supposed to 
 have reached the merriment of noon. 
 I understand that look — For some few 
 fatal years before the death of your mo- 
 ther.
 
 ^0 AN OLD FAMILY LEGEND. 
 
 ther, he sought, from the holy power of 
 Rome, (he dangerous privileges of a di- 
 vorce ; but, Matilda, is there the least 
 appearance of his profaning the memory 
 of his departed wife by a second nup- 
 tials? A year of freedom has well nigh 
 passed, and long has the season of mourn- 
 ing sped away from the turrets, of the fa- 
 mily mansion, but melancholy and regret 
 still mark the dignified possessor for their 
 own. If these despotic feelings ever 
 subside for an interval, is it not during 
 the moments in which paternal tender- 
 ness breaks forth with exuberant abun- 
 dance ? Matilda, well do I believe," 
 (here the lady Gilibert evinced that ob- 
 vious, biU innocent partiality for self- 
 intelligence which marks many ladies 
 who have seen the other side of forty,) 
 '' well do I believe that no unseemly 
 
 fancies
 
 AN OI.D FAMILY LEGEND. 21 
 
 fjncies respecting a second union find 
 their way to tlie breast of earl Rowland. 
 All his thoughts, and all his hopes, are 
 fixed on you. Must not then your in- 
 termarriage with some family of the first 
 bearing be the great wish that animates 
 his reflections ? Rest assured, that Row- 
 land has learned, from a brotherhood 
 ivith earl Philip, to fix his aim at the no- 
 blest possible quarry. Beware then^ 
 niece, on what fair forehead of our proud- 
 est knightly youth the eye of your affec- 
 tion fixes. But should — oh misery past 
 help ! — should, in some ill-fated minute, 
 when spirits inimical to human peace 
 walk abroad, when good angels sleep, 
 and mischance waves its grey standard 
 over the heads of abandoned mortals! — 
 should, in such a season, your thoughts 
 stray to on.e net honoured with the gol- 
 den
 
 22 AN OLD ?AMILY LEGEND. 
 
 den spur of knighthood, one who brings 
 no counterbalance of distinguished fame 
 to poize the high honours of the house 
 of WalthaiTJ, oh ! tremble at the horri- 
 ble apprehension of this moment I Shud- 
 der at the predictions which swell in my 
 heart, though my lip dares not give them 
 
 utterance/* 
 
 She paused, and fixed her eyes with a 
 fearful earnestness on the pale face of her 
 auditress. Then, in a voice rendered 
 tremulous by passion and anxiety, she re- 
 sumed that prophetic scrutiny which 
 Matilda had in vain endeavoured to avert. 
 " Such a youth, Matilda,'* exclaimed she, 
 '' a youth decked by Nature with all the 
 fair proportions of manly grace, now fre- 
 quents the hall of this lordly mansion — 
 a youth, indeed, allied in a faint., dark, 
 distant degree, even to the noble blood 
 
 of
 
 AN OLD FAMILY LEGEND. 23 
 
 of the Walthams. May mercy forbid that 
 towards him my niece should glance a 
 thought of sexual tenderness! For though 
 the spirit of hardy enterprize, evinced by 
 him in the single encounter where he was 
 the follower of your father^ may have in- 
 duced earl Rowland to countenance the 
 youth, nay, to avow his intention of 
 protecting him through the rough chances 
 of a soldier's life, still, the small current 
 of the Waltham blood that steals ilirough 
 his veins is so alloyed by the strange 
 espousals of his mother, that rather would 
 Rowland sink to instant death, and drag 
 his family into the chasm that ingulfed 
 him, than listen to the degrading hint of 
 a union with his abject fortunes. I grant 
 that youth wears its most seemly bloom 
 on the cheek of Cuthbert; honour smiles 
 through his lip ; and fair betide the matu- 
 rity
 
 24 AN OLD FAMILY LEGEND. 
 
 rity that dawns with such lustrous excel- 
 lence ! — But my niece must have more 
 elevated views, and look with compas- 
 sion, not love, on the worth which sues 
 for the notice it cannot boldly claim." 
 
 " If such be the restrictions of high 
 blood/' sighed Matilda, " would I had 
 been born to the steril fortunes of a heath- 
 side hut ! I then, perhaps, might have 
 been allowed to pity the unhappy and 
 respect the good," 
 
 '' To do both the one and the other is 
 not only permitted, but is imperiously 
 your duty," replied lady Gilibert; *' it 
 is against love alone that I would guard 
 the niece who is now my only care." 
 
 The lady Gilibert paused for an an- 
 swer, but Matilda wept in silence, and 
 hid her face with her hands. 
 
 ** Oh Heaven !" said lady Gilibert, 
 
 '' were
 
 AN OLD FAMILY LEGEND. 25 
 
 ^' were my fears then prophetic ? — but 
 repose on me, Matilda ; the feelings of 
 youth, though extinct, are not forgotten. 
 Be candid ; you speak to a sympathising 
 heart. You think Cuthbert unrivalled, 
 even amid the nobles who frequent the 
 banquets of the castle ?" 
 
 " I cannot shut my eyes on excellence.*' 
 
 '* And his virtues you believe the 
 equals of his graces ?" 
 
 " Oh, they exceed all perfections of 
 form I" 
 
 ''But one word more;— has he as- 
 spired to talk to you of love ?" 
 
 A flood of tears was the only reply. 
 
 Lady Giiibert crossed her hands on her 
 breast, and then raising them, with sacred 
 enthusiasm in her manner, she exclaimed, 
 " By the holy spirit of that mother whose 
 power you now so perilously need, I vow 
 
 VOL. I. c to
 
 26 AN OLD FAMILY LEGEND. 
 
 to dedicate the small remainder of my 
 care-worn days to exertions for your fe- 
 licity ! Mark, Matilda, the face of yon 
 awful heaven streaked with all the bright- 
 est of those transcendant beauties with 
 w^hich God has marked his works ! From 
 that pitying sky the form of your mo- 
 ther now bends, and speaks through my 
 lips, while I entreat you, in the tender 
 accents of commiseration, to impart the 
 dreadful tidings which I promise to re- 
 ceive with fortitude. — You love and are 
 beloved." 
 
 '' Good angels forbid it should be 
 otherwise !'* cried Matilda, lifting her 
 eyes to heaven. 
 
 '' How !"said the lady Gilibert. '^But 
 I have promised to be calm. Explain, 
 dear niece, the meaning of those myste- 
 rious words." 
 
 Matilda
 
 AN OLD FAMILY LEGEND. 27 
 
 Matilda fell at her aunt's feet, and em- 
 braced her knees. Amid sobs which 
 spoke the anguish of her heart, and which 
 half-smothered each word that she strove 
 to utter, she faintly articulated, *' Indeed, 
 indeed, the beauty that teaches youth to 
 glow with new charms on his manly fore- 
 head was not the idol that entrapped my 
 soul ; nor those manners which show no- 
 bility its proper air. His heroic ardour, 
 his exalted generosity, the soft sympathy 
 of his temper, that blended with my own, 
 and would seem to cause the resolves of 
 two minds to spring from one source ; 
 these impelled me, with resistless energy, 
 to resign to him the whole of my un^ 
 guarded hearty, and led me, when danger 
 called him to fields of turbulence far dis- 
 tant, to kneel with him at the holy altar 
 of our faith^ and solemnly to vow that 
 e 2 this
 
 28 AN OLD FAMILY LEGENb. 
 
 this hand should belong to Cuthbert 
 alone.'* 
 
 '^Betrothed!" cried lady Gilibert; 
 *' oh, hour ofphrenzy ! oh, deed of tre- 
 mendous peril !" 
 
 *' May angels look on it with pity !'' 
 sobbed Matilda, " and strew the path to 
 which it leads, with roses of forgiveness !" 
 
 " It is enough !" said lady Gilibert, 
 rising ; "give me vour hand, dear niece ! 
 and not less dear for indiscretion and 
 misfortune, while these are accompanied 
 by innocence. — Here we commence a 
 drama of eventful import : the end — oh, 
 some power more than mortal must sup- 
 port us through the trials we have to un- 
 dergo ere it can arrive !'* 
 
 CHAP,
 
 AN OLl) FAMILY LE^EJ^D, 29 
 
 ffPBBi 
 
 CHAP. IIL 
 
 On the southern side of the antique man- 
 sion was a lofty and pointed window, in- 
 tersected with massive segments of stone^ 
 curiously fretted. The window was at a 
 small distance from the paved footway, 
 and clusters of native flowers scattered a 
 simple yet sweet perfume around, and 
 relieved the oppressive weight of the 
 stone-work which strove to ornament the 
 dim casement. — This was the window of 
 Matilda's chamber ; and while the lovely 
 girl listened to the impassioned narrative 
 c3 «f
 
 30 AN OLD FAMILY LEGEND. 
 
 of her aunt, and revealed the story of her 
 own hopes and sorrows, a youih sought 
 the hallowed spot with cautious steps, 
 and an ardent, yet apprehensive look. 
 Jle glanced around as he approached, 
 and trod with a light step, as if fearful of 
 (rusting the stone footing of the ram- 
 parts with the intelligence of his advance. 
 He listened. All was silent. The sun 
 had retreated over the distant hills, though 
 the mellow light was yet sufficient to for- 
 bid confidence to every adventurer, save 
 him impelled by the ardent throbs of a 
 youthful affection. He drew towards the 
 window; — it was the hour which Matilda 
 had been too frequently accustomed to 
 dedicate to a few stolen interchanges 
 of rapturous, yet pensive delight ; and, 
 in a faltering voice, he raised the accus- 
 tomed signal of his presence : — 
 
 The
 
 AN* OLD FAMILY LEGEND. 31 
 
 The sun gently sinks to the vule of the west, 
 
 And the winds die away on the brow of the hill ; 
 
 The soft daisied sward is by fiiiry-feet press'd, 
 
 And no murmur is heard but the sound of yon rill. 
 • List, lady, list ! 
 
 Yet, the sun gently sinking leaves shadows behind, 
 And the ear of a fairy hears too much for love. 
 
 The air may waft tidings, tho' mute is the wind, 
 
 And keen eyes may yet peer from the turrets above ! 
 Ilist, lady, hist 1 
 
 How vain are the tremors which passion inspires ! 
 
 No fairies are nigh, and peace dwells in the air ; 
 The sun has retreated, extinct are his fires, 
 
 And the tall castie-turrt.'ts of spie-men are bare. 
 
 Come, lady, come !* 
 
 At the end of each stanza lie paused^ 
 and watched with exquisite pulsations of 
 hope for the sound of the opening case- 
 ment ; but all was blank silence. Again 
 he sang, and gently elevated his voice in 
 occasional lines ; but when the last word 
 c 4 ' «f
 
 S2 AN OLD FAMILY LEGEND. 
 
 of his tender summons still remained un- 
 answered, he quitted the window in de- 
 jection, and entered a groupe of trees 
 which stood at a small distance from that 
 end of the house. 
 
 His arms were folded on his bosom, 
 and his eyes were cast to the ground, ex- 
 cept at intervals, when he turned and 
 threw back a despairing glance towards 
 the window which he had quitted. So 
 great was his abstraction, that he saw not, 
 till close to the holy man, that father 
 Laurence stood in his path, a book of 
 prayer in his hand, but his eyes stedfastly 
 bent on the devious steps of the impas- 
 sioned youth. 
 
 '' And save you, my youthful friend I" 
 said the priest. ^' We happily meet on 
 this sheltered spot in an hour so fit for 
 tneditation. I have wandered without 
 
 heed,
 
 AN OLD FAMILY LEGEND. S3 
 
 heed, for, lo ! a sacred tome of piety has 
 dispelled every light thought, and turned 
 iny heart inwards on itself. Your steps, 
 Cuthbert, have been irregular. On what 
 might your meditations be employed ?" 
 
 '' Youth, holy father,*' said Cuthbert,. 
 vainly striving to hide bis confusion, 
 *^ has more empty subjects of reflection. 
 War, knightly enterprise, and the fancied 
 melody of trumpets, engross the medita- 
 tions of my early age, even amid scenes 
 so tranquil and soothing as th^ present." 
 
 *^* And is it beneath a lady's window, *^' 
 said father Laurence, "that you pursue the 
 tenor^bf such reflections ? Ah,. Cuthbert 1 
 that flushing eheek will not suffer you suc- 
 cessfully to play the hypocrite. — What 
 lady reposes in that southern chamber?'*" 
 
 ** It belongs, I believe, 'Vreplied Cutb- 
 bert, '' to— the lady Matilda." 
 
 c5 ^^To
 
 34 AN OLD FAMILY LEGEND. 
 
 '' To the daughter of your patron/' 
 said the father, with emphasis. 
 
 ''Even so !'* exclaimed Cuthbert, after 
 a pause, in which a conflict of various 
 emotions agitated his breast. '' You are 
 right to recall me to the mendicant po- 
 verty of my origin. Why should low 
 birth dare to look on elevated virtue ? — 
 Down abject wTCtch ! — down to the sod 
 that suits thy hopeless fortunes.** 
 
 Father Laurence seated himself on the 
 root of a tree, beside the desponding 
 Cuthbert, and said^ in a gentle voice, " Is 
 it for this unmanly prostration of despair 
 that I have watched over the latter bright 
 and aspiring actions of your life, and 
 strove to shape into splendid beauty the 
 great and bold wishes which dawned in 
 your bosom ? I met you in a foreign 
 clime. I fancied that I saw the very 
 
 image
 
 AN OLD FAMILY LEGEND. 35 ^ 
 
 Image of antient honour reviving in the 
 promise of your forehead. I had long 
 been sequestered. No fond ties existed 
 to keep my heart in the practice of those 
 tender hopes and fears which link man to 
 the love of his kind. But there was still 
 a principle of affection, a source of social 
 virtue remaining, which smiled over the 
 fair assurances of your excellence. I 
 knew the perils that beset youth, and are 
 so apt to veil in clouds and storms of un- 
 seemly passion, the most captivating 
 dawn of honour, the brightest sunshine 
 of exalted virtue, and I would not for- 
 sake your fortunes. Cuthbert, I am the 
 dedicated guardian of your perilous jour- 
 ney. You may tread with a heedless 
 step, and pause as you travel through - 
 youth to pluck many a flower that you 
 believe to grow^ in a deep recess, un- 
 c Q known
 
 86 AN OLD FAMILY LEGEND. 
 
 known to any anxious wanderer, save 
 yourself. BiiX^ my son, you are mistaken. 
 While buried in the sacred gloom of 
 yonder religious pile, unthought of and 
 obscure, still my eye follows your erra- 
 tic footsteps. Cuthbert, I know your 
 actions. The lady Matilda loves you. — 
 But shall the child of my adoption, the 
 being who has revived the dormant feel- 
 ings of this withered heart,stoop to entice 
 from the protecting arms of her father the 
 daughter of the man who shelters him in 
 his hall ? Execrated be the thought I 
 You were born to dependence. Be it 
 so ! Birth is the gift of fortune. But 
 virtue is not placed in the hands of 
 chance. Rouse ! be indeed the hero ! 
 and carve for yourself a destiny that may 
 enable you to look earl Rowland in the 
 face without a blush." 
 
 *'0h
 
 AN OLD FAMILY LEGEND. 3f 
 
 " Oh father !" cried Cuthbert, starting 
 from the ground, and pressing the hand 
 of father Laurence, while he averted hi^ 
 face; '' it is now, for the first time, that 
 I feel truly abject. You are right. I aru 
 indeed not worthy to aspire to the ex- 
 quisite hand that deigns to stoop to my 
 unpropitious lot. I have slumbered over 
 the great undertakings which once en- 
 wrapped my soul, and made me look with 
 fearless equality, even on the helms of 
 princes. — I will return to the field, and 
 pluck honour from the most dangerous 
 fastness in which it sits intrenched.— But 
 bid me not cease to love ! It is the 
 image of Matilda that prompts every 
 thought of virtue, and spurs me onward 
 to achievements of glory. *' 
 
 " Go, seek the field," returned father 
 
 Laurencf
 
 38 AN OTD FAMILY LEGEND. 
 
 Laurence, ''and then, if this hasty gust 
 
 of passion " 
 
 '' Oh ! wrong not my affection by such 
 a title/* interrupted Cuthbert. '' Ah, 
 kind father! yours is the only bosom, 
 save one — more peerless than I dare to 
 mention ! that has ever afforded a resting- 
 place for the story of my hopes, my fears, 
 my wishes. Listen then, and judge if 
 the deeply-rooted affection of a life me- 
 rits the appellation of a hasty gust of pas- 
 sion ! — My mother — (my early tale you 
 know, yet pardon my returning to my 
 boyish days) — my mother is a distant re- 
 lative of earl Rowland; and before the 
 ill-fati^d second nuptials which have 
 united her with the most sordid vassal of 
 this proud barony, was much in favour 
 with the earl, and still subsists in splen- 
 dour
 
 AN OLD FAMILY LEGEND. O^ 
 
 dour on his bounty. The cause of the 
 regard with which she was once treated, 
 and, probably, of the libci'ality with 
 which lord Waltham still supplies her 
 wishes, is this : — she nursed at her breast 
 the orphan child of earl Philip, Rowland's 
 brother, a poor babe that perished while 
 
 it yet hung on her bosom " 
 
 '* You have said so before,'' observed 
 father Laurence. '' Proceed." 
 
 *' My mother resided for many years 
 in earl Rowland's castle, and there, even 
 in yon buildin^g where Matilda dwells, 
 and amid these lovely scenes through 
 which she daily walks, . id I pass my hours 
 of thrice-happy unconscious childhood. 
 But 1 passed them not alone. I had a 
 companion of cherub- beauty ! I recol- 
 lect, (oh, could I forget ! ) tbe lovely hue 
 of her first blushes. We wandered tosre- 
 
 ther
 
 40 AN OLD FAMILY LEGEND. 
 
 ther through these woods, and plucked, 
 with childish merriment of heart, the 
 wild flowers which I placed in her bosom, 
 and called her my " queen oFthe spring." 
 At night> my little fancy conjured up the 
 joys of the day ; but every gaudy flower, 
 and every gay pastime, failed to visit my 
 innocent vision — Matildaalone was there! 
 I saw her golden ringkts agitated by the 
 passing breeze, and I smoothed the tresses 
 that stole over her white forehead, lest 
 they should conceal a beauty. Her form 
 seemed lighter than that of a sylph, and 
 yet was Matilda, in truth, more lovely 
 than the image of my fondest dreams t 
 She smiled in my vision; but the smile 
 with which she met me in the morn was 
 still sweeter than any which fancy could 
 form while she was absent." 
 
 ** Alas, my son !" said father Laurence, 
 
 *' why
 
 AN OLD FAMILY LEGEND. 41 
 
 ^^ why dwell on these gauds and toys ? 
 you have said that her youth was fair : 
 pursue your tale." 
 
 ''It is all of Matilda!'* exclaimed 
 Cuthbert. *' I learned to poise the lance, 
 to manage the steed, to bear away the 
 ring, only that she might see and approve 
 my pigmy valour. Love imparted some 
 little share of dignity to my feelings. I 
 panted to do something great, that I 
 might aspire to be called a hero by the 
 lady of my wishes. But, at this juncture, 
 my mother's unhappy espousals caused 
 her to remove from the castle; and, 
 alas ! the sentence of banishment ex- 
 tended to me. I will not tire your ear, 
 revered father, with the particulars of 
 the melancholy to which I now be- 
 came a prey. Suffice it that I rambled 
 without motive and without hope, ex- 
 cept
 
 42 AN OX.D FAMILY M'GtND. 
 
 ccpt when I enicrctl the woods which 
 border on Waltham castle, where I iiome- 
 times met Matilda, and where I first 
 knew the felicity of seeing a tear 
 shed for iny adverse fate — and, oh, fa- 
 ther ! that tear dropped down Matilda's 
 -cheek : could I ao otherwise than love 
 her?" 
 
 The father sighed, but made no reply, 
 r.nd Ciithbert proceeded to say: — 
 
 " When earl Rowland prepared to 
 head his vassals, and join the army which 
 asserted in France the rights of our in- 
 jirred island, my mother acceded to my 
 request, and petitioned the earl to admit 
 me to his train. I went. Matilda had 
 wept a prayer for my success, and bound 
 my arm with a mottoed ribbon, and had 
 named me her knight : ah ! surely then, 
 I was secure of triumph ! I did my 
 
 dutv>
 
 AN OLD FAMITY LEGKKD. 43 
 
 duty, and proudly said, "I have not dis- 
 graced Matilda." 
 
 *' Ah, my son !" cried father I n'.irence, 
 " would that every pasi^age of your story 
 were like the present ! Retrace the ac- 
 tive heroism by which you were stimu- 
 lated, when you contended for honour on 
 French ground, amid the hardiest chi- 
 valry of England. Think that you hear 
 the blast of the trumpet, the beating of 
 the drum, and are again entering that 
 field in which you saved the father of 
 Matilda from death. Does the picture 
 animate your fancy ? Remember that 
 the knight who bore earl Rowland's ban- 
 ner was slain, and that the earl pressed 
 forward to save his family trophy from 
 the grasp of the tumultuous foe. His 
 rashness exposed him to a forest of hos- 
 tile spears. He was sinking beneath the 
 
 sword
 
 44 AN OLD FAMILY LEGEND. 
 
 sword of a Gallic leader, when Cuthbert 
 rushed to the spot, regained the proud 
 pendant of the Walthams, and slew the 
 chief who had devoted carl Rowland to 
 instant death. The brave youth felt not 
 his wounds till he fainted through loss of 
 blood ; and he appeared yet lingering 
 only a few frail motnents or the verge of 
 dissolution, when a churchman, who sur- 
 veyed the bloody field by the light of 
 the moon^ after the combatants had re- 
 tired, lifted his head from its crimson 
 pillow of sod, and removed him to an 
 adjacent friary, where the humble art of 
 the religious brothers succeeded in res- 
 toring him to life and health." 
 
 *' A\\j holy father !" exclaimed Cuth- 
 bert, " can I ever forget that hour ? 
 "Yours was the beneficent face on which 
 my eyes opened when death had seemed 
 
 to
 
 AN OLD FAMILY LEGEND. 45 
 
 to claim them for its own. Yours was the 
 hand that healed my wounds, and yours 
 the care which nursed the sufferings of my 
 sick pallet. Nor can I forget the affection 
 with which you followed me to my native 
 land, although you so obstinately refuse 
 to accept the thanks of earl Rowland, my 
 patron, from his own lips." 
 
 ''My child," said the father, with so- 
 lemnity, '' for what did I restore you to 
 life and your native country ? To ob- 
 tain clandestinely the only daughter of 
 the man who shelters you ? You say that 
 you have looked, when in the field of 
 arms^ witii an eye of proud equality even 
 on the shining crests of princes. Exa- 
 mine your breast, and search now for that 
 independence of spirit ! Let us suppose 
 that earl Rowland fixes on your counte- 
 nance his stedfast gaze. Could your eye 
 6 withstand
 
 4^ AN OLD FAMILY LF.GEN15. 
 
 withstand his glance ? — Ah^ no ! it would 
 strike you with dismay, and your look 
 would fall to the ground. And see I the 
 earl approaches ! Cuthbert, you cannot 
 retreat. Meet your patron ; and if his 
 eye should rest on your forehead, re- 
 member that you. once could sustain the 
 proudest gaze ol* princes with sentiments 
 of unshrinking blushless equality." 
 
 It was indeed earl Rowland who now 
 appeared at the end of the tufted path ; 
 and Cuthbert perceived that it was im- 
 possible to avoid him ; otherwise, such 
 was the confusion of his mind, in conse- 
 quence of the admonitory picture drawn 
 by father Laurence, that he would have 
 gladly escaped from the interview^ and 
 he was doomed to encounter the glance 
 of the earl without support ; for the fa- 
 ther had quitted him immediately after 
 
 describing
 
 AN OLD FAMILY LEGEND. 47 
 
 describing the anguish to which he was 
 likely to be exposed by the meeting. 
 
 The earl app- cached Cuthbert in a c,low 
 but uneven stej, and seemed oppressed 
 by painful and weighty reflection. Mis 
 eyes were fixed on the youth, and yet he 
 replied not to his salutation till after a 
 considerable pause. Cuthbert expressed 
 his wishes for the health of his early friend 
 and only patron. *' Look on my cheek/' 
 exclaimed earl Rowland, " and see if .the 
 glowing hue of health has marked it for 
 its seat/* 
 
 Cuthbert cast a fearful glance on the 
 countenance of the earl, and beheld his 
 cheeks pale, his eyes sunken, yet vivid, 
 and his brows contracted to the expres- 
 sion of such deep, internal agony as is 
 produced by a tempestuous conflict of 
 ■warring passions. He was horror-stricken 
 
 by
 
 48* -AN OLD FAMILY LEGEND. 
 
 by the appearance. *' Well may you 
 gaze on that sickness of heart which 
 stands imaged in my countenance/' said 
 the earl, in a low but agitated voice. 
 '' Cuthbert ! you term me patron. May 
 I indeed depend on your fidelity, and 
 reckon you in truth my firm and attached 
 friend V 
 
 The colour fled from Cuthbert's coun- 
 tenance as the earl spoke. His frame 
 trembled, a cold dew overspread his fore- 
 head, and he fell on one knee, at the 
 carl's feet, in silence. 
 
 " I understand that impressive action," 
 exclaimed Rowland, '' and feel that you 
 are entirely mine. Rise, good Cuthbert, 
 and swear that you will still stand by me, 
 nor forsake my fortunes, though they lead 
 to the brink of earth's extreme precipice. 
 — Say, shall I depend on you V* 
 
 '' May
 
 AN OLD FAMILY LEGEND. 49 
 
 '' May Heaven prosper me/* faltered 
 Ciithbert, '' as my attachment to the 
 house of Waltham is sincere !'* 
 
 ^' Ah, youth !" cried the earl ; '' does 
 his head repose in safety that rests on 
 the bosom of your green and careless 
 age ? yet you have a firm and manly 
 soul. I verily believe you superior to 
 the light fancies and flimsy idols of boyish 
 life, I think I may repose on you." 
 
 Cuthbert still was silent. 
 
 " You speak not !" said the earl. 
 '' Swear to me, youth, that you are de- 
 voted to my fortunes/* 
 
 " I have svvorn, my lord/* cried Cuth- 
 bert ; " and again I call the holy bands of 
 Heaven to witness that I am the creature 
 of your family, and will forfeit life rather 
 than abandon its cause !" 
 
 ^' It is decided,'' said earl Rowland, 
 VOL. I, D ^' I will
 
 -50 AN OLD FAMILY LEGEND. 
 
 •'I will trust thee. Follow me ! These 
 woods, though they were as close as the 
 matted forest, whkh no foot has trodden 
 since the prime creation, would be all too 
 open and too garish for my purpose. 
 •Frying knaves often lurk among the 
 gloomy alleys of woodland recesses; 
 find the murmur of the leafy branches, 
 in this whispering wind, might disturb 
 US. Follow me ! I can talk to you 
 more freely within ^oors." 
 
 CHAP.
 
 AN OLD J'AMILY LEGE^D. 51 
 
 CHAP. IV. 
 
 Earl Ro\vland walked in silence through 
 the galleries of the western wing, and 
 Cuthbert followed, lost in apprehensix)n 
 and wonder. One idea only occupied 
 the mind of the youth : he feared that 
 his secret intercourse with Matilda was 
 discovered, and that her haughty and po* 
 tent father was prepared to denounce 
 ceaseless vengeance on his baseness, and 
 to exact a solemn promise of future for- 
 bearance. The earl appeared subject to 
 more varied emotions, but all painful, 
 D 2 even
 
 52 ' AN OLD FAMILY LEGEND. 
 
 even to agony ; and he sometimes paused 
 abruptly, and then suddenly renewed 
 his progress, in a hasty but not a deter- 
 mined step. He stopped at a large and 
 weighty oaken door, and slowly drew a 
 key from his bosom. He placed the key 
 in the door, and then turning, grasped 
 firmly the hand of Cuthbert. " Thou 
 hast sworn," said he, " to dedicate thy- 
 self to my service ?" 
 
 '' I have," returned Cuthbert, in a 
 faint voice. ^' Put me, my lord, to the 
 trial." 
 
 The earl opened the door. The room 
 into which they entered was one remote 
 from those in use with the family of the 
 castle, and was large, cold, and chearless. 
 The vaulted roof was painted of a dark 
 azure hue, and was studded with stars of 
 gold. A range of pillars stood on either 
 
 side.
 
 AN «LD FAMILY LEGEND. 5S 
 
 side, and their shafts ^were carved and 
 painted to imitate the knotted trunks of 
 oaken trees. The walls were covered 
 with dark wainscot, once highly polished, 
 but whichj from neglect, had become 
 dull, gloomy, and oppressive. At the 
 farther end were placed several massive 
 chairs and a table. Slightly elevated on 
 a platform, which was ascended by two 
 steps, stood a chair distinguished from 
 the rest by rich ornaraents'of carving and 
 gold, among which the arms of the Wal- 
 thams held the chief place, and a coronet 
 surmounted the decorations of the back. 
 Innichesof the wainscot were placed coats 
 of mail; and interspersed were various 
 articles of offensive arms, among which 
 was eminently distinguished the sword 
 with which Oswald, earl of Waltham, 
 slew Clifford de Montgomery, in single 
 D 3 combat^
 
 54 AN OLD FAMILY LEGEND. 
 
 combat, in the presence of king Henry 
 the third. The blood had never been 
 wiped from the point of this weapon ; 
 and it was reported, that while the Wal- 
 tham family retained the triumphant 
 sword, its earl should prosper, and time 
 strive m vain to diminish the honour of 
 the house. — This apartment had been the 
 hall of justice, under the old feudal lords, 
 and it was believed in the castle, that va- 
 rious excavated dungeons yawned be- 
 neath its fioorino', and that the walls con- 
 tained secret passages and dreary cellular 
 recesses. But none were now permitted 
 to enter this gloomy chamber, save the 
 lord of the domain ; and he, it was be- 
 Jieved, sought its obscurities but rarely. 
 The domestics of the mansion shuddered 
 to hear the hall of justice named; for 
 strange tales ran amojig the hinds, when 
 
 assembled
 
 A.N OLD FAMILY LEGEND. 5 5 
 
 assembled over their cups, concerning, 
 ks mysterious character, and the terrors 
 of the supposed subterranean cells; and' 
 not a vassal of the earldom but would 
 have sought, at midnight, the tomb of 
 Aldred, the self-slaughterer, in the con- 
 tiguous chapel, rather than have pene- 
 trated one of the galleries leading to this 
 portentous room. 
 
 Such was the chamber into which th& 
 earl conducted Cuthberti The youth- 
 had never visited this hall before ; and,- 
 in despite of the hardihood of his chi- 
 valric courage, he shuddered as he en- 
 tered the solemn and obscure place. He 
 glanced around. All w^as buried in early 
 twilight. Each grisly suit of mail, half- 
 hidden in its recess, appeared an erect 
 warrior, of muscle and animation, ready 
 to step forth and occupy the vacant 
 D 1 chairs.
 
 56 AN OLD FAMILY LEGEND. 
 
 chairs. The faint dying light crept tar- 
 dily through painted casenientSj and the 
 heavy pillars seemed to hide terrors the 
 more fearful for being indistinct. One 
 moment he paused ; then followed with 
 a firm step^ and seated himself on the 
 chair which the earl motioned him ta 
 lake. 
 
 Rowland sat down also ; but he spee- 
 dily rosC;, and paced the room, with folded 
 arms and a downcast look. Then, stop- 
 ping opposite to Cuthbert, he fixed on 
 him his eyes, and said, '' Thou biddest 
 me put thy good faith to the trial — I am 
 about to do so ; and thou art my affi- 
 anced adherent. Look through every 
 walk of the vast world, and thou wilt 
 find no resting-place for thy rising hopes. 
 
 save on me.*' 
 
 *' Believe me, my lord," cried Cuth- 
 
 bert»
 
 AN OLD FAMILY LEGEND. 57 
 
 hert, '' I need not the inducement of in- 
 terest to serve you truly. Point but to 
 the danger^ and reverence and regard 
 shall be found sufficient to nerve my arm 
 for every undertaking/* 
 
 The earl looked stedfastly on his face^ 
 then averting his eyes, replied, '' I be- 
 lieve it to be so." He again sat down» 
 '^ Yes, Cuthbert, I have not forgotten the 
 moment in which your arm shielded me 
 from death. It is meet then that I deem 
 you my chosen friend, and reveal to you 
 the inmost secrets of my heart. — Cuth- 
 bert, I am a man of trouble. Nay^ start 
 not 1 I admit myself rich, honouredj 
 noble. My banner is the signal for ar- 
 dour in the field, and courtiers bow be- 
 fore my favour with the throne. The 
 world smiles on me, and my fortunes 
 seem to return that smile to the world » 
 D 5 But,
 
 08 AM OLD FAMILY LEGEND. 
 
 But, ah ! these gaudy trappings enter 
 not the lone chamber; they fade when 
 the head presses the pillow. See on what 
 a frail foundation rest the orlories of my 
 name ! Ah, me ! even on the waxen blos- 
 som of a daughter's cheek ! — Yet does 
 Matilda twine round my heart with such" 
 potent strings of fondness, that a wish for 
 her personal happiness is only secondary 
 to zeal for the glory of my name, i 
 speak to you, Cuthbert, in verity of heart, 
 and with en lire frankness. Her cherub- 
 smiles triumphed over the repugnance 
 with which I beheld a puling female the 
 first-born of my hopes ; and when she 
 fondly clasped my knees, while yet a 
 dwarfish babe, I strained her to me, and 
 forgot, while I saw her, to regret that she 
 w^as not a son. She grew up the delight 
 of my life, albeit I cursed my fate that 
 
 hnd
 
 AN OLD FAMILY LEGEND. 69- 
 
 had refused me other children. Too 
 often hasher tenderness soothed the dark 
 and dismal storms. which oppressed my 
 hearty for her ever to be otherwise than 
 precious to me. She is blended with the- 
 stream that warms* my bosom ; and even 
 now am I in treaty for an alliance which 
 promises to insure her all that the most 
 sanguine wishes of woman can desire. 
 You find, Cuthbert, that I conceal no 
 purpose^ You are my fixed friend, and 
 it is meet that I should use no reserve 
 with you." 
 
 Guthbert bowed/ but was indeed un- 
 able to reply. 
 
 " But w^hat of such vague converse ?'^ 
 resumed the earl. " This is^ not the 
 string that I would wish to touch ; and 
 yet it is near to my heart, and therefore 
 it was that I mentioned it to you. But 
 X) Q I have
 
 60 AN OLD FAMILY LEGENf^. 
 
 I have that which is still more neat. 
 Listen, and remember thy oath ! Dear 
 
 Cuthbert, I have lately" he paused 
 
 and pressed Cuthbert's hand. Then,- 
 starting suddenly up, he let fall his hand,- 
 and exclaimed, abruptly, ''' But who was- 
 the man that parted from you at the end 
 of the beech-covered glade, as I entered 
 the wood ? Sure I saw some figure quit 
 you on my advance !" 
 
 " It was the holy father,'* answered 
 Cuthbert, '' to whose goodness and skill 
 1 am so much indebted." 
 
 *' A holy father ?" repeated Rowland^ 
 with suspicion and disdain : " I hate 
 these meddling gownsmen. They peer 
 into men's secrets, while they would seem 
 counting their beads. Avoid them !" 
 
 '* Surely, my lord," said Cuthbert^, 
 
 *' this holy man "^ 
 
 *' Ts
 
 AN OLD FAMILY LEGEIS'D, 6 1, 
 
 '^ Is a fit companion for incapable do- 
 tards and toothless beldames/' interrupted 
 earl Rowland. ''Avoid them altogether.'* 
 Cuthbert was silent. 
 The earl resumed his seat, and again 
 took Cuthbert's hand, which he warmly- 
 pressed. '' Ah, Cuthbert T' said he, '' I 
 know that you have noted my altered 
 looks of late. You have seen the lustre 
 fade in my eye, and my brosv lose its 
 wonted smoothness. You have seen me 
 pass untasted the bowl, and have taken 
 heed of my silence, when merriment 
 made the hall re-echo with its strains." 
 
 " I have indeed observed that your 
 lordship has latterly been less chearful 
 than was once your custom,'' replied 
 Cuthbert ; " but I readily attributed it to 
 
 the death " 
 
 '^ To the death of Anselm !" exclaimed 
 
 the
 
 62 AN OLD FAMILY LKGEND. 
 
 the earl, starting violently. " And how 
 earnest' thou to think that the death of 
 Anselm should trouble me so deeply ?" 
 
 '^ Pardon me, my lord/* said Cuth- 
 bert. '' I,would have said the decease of 
 the ever-honoured countess/' 
 
 A pause ensued. — '' And yet/* re^ 
 sumed the earl; " Anselm was an antient 
 and valued friend.— Yes, friend was my 
 word. He was the foster-brother of my- 
 infant days, and trod through life with me/ 
 even to the hour in which he ceased to 
 breathe, with firm undeviating adherence^ 
 He was the depositary of my most valued 
 and most dangerous thoughts. Ah ! when 
 you know the extent of his fidelity, you 
 will own that never did mortal man sus» 
 tain a greater loss than I in the moment 
 "^vhich wreited Anselm from existence/"* 
 The earl paused; but Cuthbert conti- 
 nued
 
 AN OLD FAMILY LEGEND. 63 
 
 luied silent ; for it was not without sur- 
 prise that he heard earl Rowland bestow 
 so warm a eulogy on the memory of 
 Anselm, who had been an object of detes- 
 tation in the eyes of most of the inhabi- 
 tants of the castle. He was a man of a 
 selfish, reserved, and haughty temper; 
 ever affecting a greatness to which he had 
 no pretensions, and perpetually sedulous 
 to exact that deference from his equals^ 
 which he knew not how to receive with 
 dignity. In the absence of the earl^ he 
 was the petty tyi-ant of the castle, and 
 exacted as much state as the baron of 
 king Edward's day, though his power was 
 Only that of the baron's gentleman usher. 
 Even in the presence of his master, he 
 would sometimes as'sume a portion of 
 consequence ; but the commanding brow 
 and stern sense of lord Waltham were too 
 
 mighty
 
 64 AN OLD FAMILY LRGENiy. 
 
 mighty for his affectation, and he spee- 
 dily sank to willing and acknowledged 
 obedience. To the vassals he was a ty- 
 rant; to the earl he was smooth, sup- 
 pliant, and seemingly attached ; and to 
 the world at large, frigid, taciturn, and 
 indignant. Such was Anselm ; and Cuth- 
 bert could not avoid amazement when 
 earl Rowland regretted his decease with 
 so much fervour. 
 
 *' We were in Fiance,'* resumed the 
 earl, with a sigh, '' when Anselm was 
 taken sick. It was his letter, written, 
 alas! with the too certain feebleness of a 
 dying man, that caused my abrupt re- 
 turn to the abode of my ancestors. The 
 winds favoured me ; and on landing, I 
 spurred my horse till Nature v/ould no 
 longer enable him to support me. Yet 
 was I too late to see Anselm die. He 
 
 had
 
 AN OLD FAMILY LEGEND. 65, 
 
 had breathed his last but one short hour 
 before my arrival. But he was ever 
 faithful : a sealed packet was left for 
 my hand. Sickness had only that day 
 compelled him to take entirely to his 
 pallet. Oh God ! that I had seen him 
 before he died !" — The earl covered his 
 eyes with his hands, and seemed lost in 
 deep emotion ; but he quickly regained 
 self-command, and thus continued to 
 speak: — "I have been, from youth, prone 
 to book-study. Misfortune has endeared 
 to me the lone covert of my chamber. 
 It was my fate, in an early day, to know 
 an aged man who had once been fore- 
 most in the wars, but whom a love of 
 study tempted to retire to that cave of 
 the neighbouring rock which overhangs 
 the proud stream of the Sedway, and 
 which the besotted carles term the 
 
 haunted
 
 66 AN OLD FAMILY LEGExVD; 
 
 haunted nook. A strange man he was T 
 majestic in his gait^ and his visage was 
 possessed of superhuman grandeur. Pulse 
 and water served him for diet ; and the 
 gaudiest charms of sunshine could not 
 tempt him from his studies. Yet oft, at 
 deep and dead night, when nothing 
 sounded, save the hum of such creatures 
 of darkness as stole through the gloom to 
 seek the shelter of the moss-grown ruin 
 in the vale, would he venture abroad, and 
 hold seeming converse with the planets, 
 or ponder for hours over the spectacle of 
 a falling star. This recluse and awful man 
 took notice, I say, of the love of solitude 
 that marked my youth, and imparted to 
 me lessons of fearful moment, while he 
 trained and disposed, as much as in him 
 lay, the ambitious aspirations of my tem- 
 per. He taught me to note the evolu- 
 tions
 
 AN OLD FAMILY LKGEND. G7 
 
 fions of the heavens, and to shape thein 
 into portents indicative of human destiny. 
 He learned me those solemn mysteries by 
 which the most intricate intentions of 
 fate are penetrated and understood by the 
 scientific eye of man ; and, as a dying 
 witness of the gracious kindness with 
 which he regarded me, he imparted a pre- 
 cept of the skill required — shudder not, 
 Cuthbert ! — for calling spirits from the 
 troubled wilds of the desart air, and the 
 profound caverns which lie beneath the 
 tread of human feet. Awful indeed are 
 the means required ; tremendous is the 
 experiment, and not to be adopted, save 
 in cases of most urgent need. Yet, such 
 a moment now occurs, and you I select 
 for the companion of my undertaking." 
 ''My lord/' said Cuthbert, *' I am a 
 rough soldier, little versed in books and 
 
 science.
 
 68 AN OLD FAMILY LEGEND. 
 
 science, and surely most unfit to attend 
 your lordship through such strange mys- 
 teries of art.'' 
 
 " Peace !'* cried earl Rowland : " hast 
 thou not promised to follow me even to 
 the verge of earth's extremest precipice ? 
 — Ah, Culhbert ! even the service which 
 I now exact at your hands is but prepa- 
 ratory to one still closer^ still of dearer 
 interest to my troubled heart ! By your 
 resolution and fidelity, in this first friendly 
 duty, I shall judge whether your breast is 
 indeed of a texture so substantial as to be 
 a fitting receptacle for the weighty secret 
 that consumes me while it is un partici- 
 pated. You gaze on me ; but such is 
 my wayward lot, that a friend so solemnly 
 devoted as yourself alone can impart 
 comfort and security to my breast. The 
 hour for entire confidence is not arrived, 
 
 yet
 
 AN OLD FAMILY LEGEND. 69 
 
 yet will I, in some shape, unfold to you 
 the agony of my reflections. — Ciithbert^ 
 you are aware that strange and fantastic 
 rumours have been spread amongst the 
 hirelings of the earldom, concerning the 
 division of the castle in which we now 
 confer. A haunted turret is an old tale: 
 the fearful are apt coiners of ghosts and 
 mysteries. Yet are the opinions even of 
 vassals not to^disregarded. Tell me what 
 you have heard respecting the hall of jus- 
 tice, and the celh which are supposed to 
 lie beneath it/' 
 
 While Cuthbert, who was embarrassed 
 by the question, was endeavouring to 
 frame such a reply as might satisfy the 
 earl's curiosity, without offence to his 
 feelings, the loud blast of a horn sounded 
 from without, and the earl, repairing to 
 one of the windows, discovered a herald 
 
 5 on
 
 70 AN OLD FAMILY LEGEND. 
 
 on horseback, attended by two pages in 
 the livery ofthe court. Hastily quitting 
 the hall of justice, earl Rowland prepared 
 to receive this unexpected messenger in 
 the oaken parlour on the right of the 
 great hall, to which apartment the herald 
 w^as conducted with all due attention. 
 The conference was not of great extent ; 
 and, when the herald withdrew, Cuthbert 
 was tigain summoned to the presence of 
 his patron. 
 
 The earl appeared in considerable agi- 
 tation. *' The king," said he, abruptly, 
 on the entrance of Cuthbert, '' has for- 
 warded this herald to announce his in- 
 tention of visiting my castle by mid-day 
 to-morrow. I know not what reasons of 
 state have suddenly induced king Henry 
 to deviate from the intended course of his 
 progress. But this I know, that not the 
 
 presence
 
 AN OLD FAMI7.Y LEGEKD. 71 
 
 presence of a dozen monarchs, and each 
 no less potent than the magnificent 
 Henry, should prevent my pursuing the 
 arduous enterprize whichi have commu- 
 nicated to you. I can no longer support 
 'the anguish and uncertainty which prey 
 on my mind. When the king retires 
 from the tasteless scene of revelry, in 
 which I suppose the castle will be plunged 
 to-morrow night, be you in close attend- 
 ance on me. When relieved from the 
 neeessitv of counterfeiting merriment for 
 the amusement of my sovereign, and 
 when all the galleries of the castle are 
 hushed in midnight, and buried in dark- 
 ness, then will we seek the sacred chamber 
 which no foot enters save our own, and 
 there will I take an earnest of those ser- 
 vices which are to produce me content, 
 and to raise you to a proud height of af- 
 fluence
 
 72 AN OLD FAMILY LEGEND. 
 
 fluence and honour. Adieu, good Cuth- 
 bert ! You are sworn to friendship and 
 fidelity. Be at hand when all is dark and 
 silent at to-morrow midnight." 
 
 Cuthbert bowed and withdrew, while 
 the earl hastily collected the chief officers 
 of the household, and gave such direc- 
 tions as were necessary for the entertain- 
 ment of the ensuing day. 
 
 CHAP. V, 
 
 The singular interview which had taken 
 place between himself and the earl, did 
 not fail to produce a variety of novel sen- 
 sations
 
 AN OLD FAMILY LEGEND. 73 
 
 sations in the mind of Cuthbert. He had 
 for a considerable period observed a 
 growing melancholy seated on the fea- 
 tures of Rowland, and was convinced, on 
 minute recollection^ that this appearance 
 of internal disquietude had assumed a 
 deeper and less variable dye since thedeath 
 of hh confidential attendant Anselm. 
 
 The familiarity of the carl with those 
 dark mysteries, those secret arts by 
 which the veil of futurity is drawn aside, 
 and a glimmering, indistinct, deceptive 
 view obtained of the awful regions of un- 
 born fortune, overv/helmedhim with sor- 
 sov; and surprise. — Cuthbert well knew^ 
 that a pursuit of occult science was the 
 prevalent delusion of the age. He knew 
 that the erudite and uninformed, the po- 
 tent and the humble, were alike the 
 slaves of that ardent curiositv which se<.^ks 
 
 VOL. I. p. to
 
 74 AN OLD FAMILY LF-GENTJ. 
 
 to become intimate with the mysteries of 
 destiny, through the intervention of fear- 
 ful, though questionable agents. But the 
 hardy soldier, whose idol should be ho- 
 r.our, and whose care for the future 
 £)Ught not to extend beyond the length 
 of his sword, was surely not the character 
 to sink to such weak and unsanctilied ex- 
 pedients ! While his bosom glowed 
 with the lofty spirit of chivalry, and 
 ^vhilc his active imagination retraced, 
 with fond idolatry, all the pompous 
 images of war, he almost repented of his 
 promise to aUend the midnight researches 
 of the earl, and blushed to think that 
 Rowland should become the prey of so 
 weak an anxiciy. 
 
 But it was evident that eari Rowland 
 was impelled \o thirst after preternatural 
 intelligence respecting the colour of his 
 
 future
 
 AN OLD FAMllA' LEGEND. 75 
 
 future fortune, by some secret and pecu- 
 liar mystery which weighed down his soul 
 and weakened his judgment. This fear- 
 ful and hicjden sorrow formed the ground- 
 work of the confidence with w^hich he 
 treated Cuthbert. Jt was apparent that 
 he was unable, singly, to support the load 
 of his destiny; and full willingly would 
 Cuthbert consent to share the trials to 
 which Matilda's father was subject, while 
 such a participation was consistent with 
 that vivid princij)le of honour which he 
 wished to for i the day-star of all his ac- 
 tions. With much anxiety he endea- 
 voured to surmise the probable nature of 
 the earl's secret trouble; but soon an 
 idea, more severe and afiiictive than even 
 the regret of ingenuousness or the per- 
 plexing throbs of painful incertitude, 
 chased every other consideration from his 
 E g breavt,
 
 7C} AN OLD FAMILY LEGEr^^D. 
 
 -breast, and reigned there with a solitary 
 gloom of despotism. — Matilda, his be- 
 trothed wife, his solemnly-affianced bride 
 — had he not heard the earl communi- 
 cate an intention of speedily proposing 
 to her an illustrious husband ? The 
 thought was madness ! — a husband to his 
 betrothed bride ! to the lovely and blush- 
 ful being who had resigned to him every 
 wish, and had dedicated her life to his 
 c:are, when she presented him with her 
 hand at the holy altar of the Christian 
 worship, and vowed (while she requested 
 good angels to waft the sound to Heaven ! ) 
 that her heart, her person, her fate, should 
 be inseparably blended with his alone ! 
 
 On the constancy, and even on the forti- 
 tude of Matilda, he knew that he might 
 fearlessly rely ; but could he look with- 
 out dismay on the trials to which her for- 
 titude
 
 AN OLD FAMILY LEGEND. 77 
 
 fitLide might be exposed, if the earl per- 
 sisted in his purpose, and urged her to- 
 decision and obedience ? One reflection 
 came to his aid, which, however chime- 
 rical in the eye of Reason, assumed a cast 
 of serious efficacy in the glowing fancy 
 of a lover. Would not the confidence 
 reposed on him by the earl, and the as-' 
 sistance which he might be able to render 
 his patron, give him a claim on the gra- 
 titude of Rowland sufficient to prevent- 
 all oppressive interference with the 
 wishes of Matilda ? The more he pou" 
 dered on this reflection, the more firmly 
 he became persuaded of the stability of 
 the hopes reared on it; and he now ea- 
 gerly panted for that disclosure on the 
 part of the earl, to which he had before 
 looked with an apprehensiveness almost 
 partaking of disgust. 
 
 E 3 Meanwhile,
 
 /S AN OLD FAMILY LEGEND. 
 
 Meanwhile, every servant of the castle^ 
 and every vassal in its vicrnitv, Avas ac- 
 tively engaged in preparations for the 
 ensuing festival. The avenues to the 
 eastle were strewed with green rushes, 
 rosemary, and each sweet herb that th'e 
 season produced. The arras of gold and 
 silver, and tapestry-hangings emblazoned 
 with portraitures from holy w^it, and sto- 
 ries from the romantic mythology of 
 earlier days, were hastily suspended on 
 the sides of the numerous chambers and 
 vast halls. The sideboards were covered 
 with rich and rnossy carpets, woven in 
 the delicate and artful looms- of the East_, 
 on which were placed, in gorgeous array,, 
 trenchers of gold, basins and ewers of 
 silver, flaggons of glass, covered with vel^ 
 vet, goblets most curiously ornamented 
 with tracery-w^ork, and embellished by 
 
 devices
 
 A"N OLD VAUll.Y LEGEND. 7U 
 
 devices calculated to add zest to each 
 draught presented to the lip of meni- 
 xnent ; and divers perfume-pans, of va-^ 
 rious sizes, all his»:hlv wrought, and man? 
 of them enriched with jrildinfj. The mu- 
 siciaos practised their flourishes in the 
 gallery, and the servitors marshalled their 
 bands, and performed, in solemn rehear^ 
 sal, the various duties required of them" 
 during the ensuing regal banquet. All 
 was bustle, importance, and anxiety. 
 
 At ten o'clock, a cavalier of the courts 
 attended by two pages, announced the" 
 approach of the royal party ; and shortly 
 the train of Henry appeared in sight. 
 No\v the warder hastens to his post, and 
 the engineer lights his match to welcome 
 the sovereign with a royal salute. Earl 
 Rowland places himself midway in the 
 principal entrance ; and his vassals^ clad^ 
 s 4 in
 
 so AN OLD FAMILY LEGEND. 
 
 in the sumptuous Ilvcry of the Walthams, 
 line each side ot the long and spacious 
 avenue. The king's trumpets sound. 
 The Ct^stle band strikes a flourish, the 
 cannon roar, and the tenantry of Wal- 
 tham shout " Long live king Henry I" 
 till the welkin rings with\the triumphant 
 acclamation. 
 
 But, see ! the august monarch ap- 
 proaches. First, come six trumpets,, 
 'sounding a blast as they advance. Then^ 
 the guard of the king, fifty strong, each 
 with his harquebuze slung over his back, 
 by means of a bandelier, and the whole 
 arrayed in white doublets, with green and 
 white i:ibbons in their sleeves, black gas- 
 coine hose, and white garters. The 
 grooms of the chamber, and attendants 
 on the royal person^ precede the king, 
 who is immediately followed by six pages 
 
 of
 
 AN OLD FAMILY LEGEND* 8t 
 
 of birth and bearing, dressed in cloaks 
 and hose of crimson velvet, lined with 
 gold lace ; doublets of yellow satin, and 
 hats of crimson velvet, surmounted with 
 plumes of yellow feathers. — Wolsey, with? 
 a train only secondary to that of the so- 
 vereign, and accompanied by several of 
 the first nobles of the court, succeeds, aflc¥ 
 closes the procession. 
 
 The earl advanced some paces beyond 
 the entrance of his mansion ; and, falling 
 on one knee, held the gilt stirrup of the 
 kin^g while his majesty dismounted. Henry- 
 deigned to bestow one of his most f^ra- 
 crous smiles on this ready attention of his 
 host, and exclaimed, with a familiar air o€ 
 jocularity, *' God's wounds, my noble 
 esquire ! this prompt>€iviiity is more than' 
 an interloper has a right to expect. We- 
 take you by surprise, my lord of Wal- 
 s 5 tham.—
 
 SS AN OLD FAMILY LEGEND. 
 
 thaqv/^— Ha ! is it not so ? But wc arc a 
 band of roii^^li huntsmen now, and not 
 courtiers; and will, with your good leave, 
 seek for provender in your parks, and 
 kill the venison before we ask for a 
 dinner."' 
 
 While the earl expressed a becoming: 
 sense of the hi^h honour thus conferred 
 on him, and offered an apology for the 
 rudeness of such fare as his halls could 
 present to his royal guest, the whole of< 
 the party dismounted, and Henry en^ 
 tered, with alacrity, *he spacious and no- 
 ble seat of his entertainer. 
 
 Earl Rov/land conducted his courtly vi- 
 >;itantsto the chamber of audience, on the 
 left of the great hall, which was now 
 hung with costly tapestry, ancl embel- 
 lished with decorations of massy silver, 
 ;ind reflecting-o'lasses of an inuisual size. 
 
 But
 
 A!^ OLD FAMILY LEGEND. 8S> 
 
 But the chief ornament of the room, and^ 
 that which fir^t attracted the notice of 
 every person who entered, was Matilda- 
 s-bright in the unborrowed charms of 
 youth, innocence, and beauty. The 
 blush which suffused her cheek bespoke 
 diffidence, not dread; and ivhen she' 
 stooped, with a native grace and enchant-' 
 ing air of modesty, to bid a welcome to- 
 the ill\jistrious visitor of her family seat, 
 every eye seemed rivetted to the elegance 
 of her attitude and the mingled intelli-^ 
 gence and simplicity of her countenance. 
 Matilda was supported by the lady 
 Gilibert Evelyn, who conducted herself, 
 on this important occasion, with'all the 
 digaity and solemnity of a lady who had' 
 spent-some years of her youth amid the' 
 oppressive formalities of a court. Her 
 dress consisted of a gown of murray- 
 K 6 coloured
 
 84 AN OLD FAMILY LEGEND. 
 
 coloured satin, a pale pink stomacher, 
 richly embroidered, and bordered with 
 inlay-work of gold; a crimson satin pet^ 
 ticoat, so stiffened with embroidery that 
 it would have almost stood on end with- 
 out the support of her ladyship's august 
 form ; green silk stockings, with red 
 clocks, and a pair of pantobles or slip- 
 pers, bedecked with immense roses. No 
 less consequential a circumstance than 
 the visit of the sovereign could have pre- 
 vailed on the good lady Gilibert to re^ 
 £ume these state-habiliments of her more 
 prosperous and happy days. In general 
 she wore that sombre dress of widowhood 
 which suited the desolate and withered 
 condition of her heart. The attire that 
 she selected, in compliment to the pre- 
 sence of the king, appears singular and 
 fantastic to the imagination of a modern ; 
 5 but
 
 AN OLD FAMILY LEGEND. S3 
 
 but how vague and factitious arc our no- 
 tions concerning the impressions con- 
 veyed by attire ! In these garnients dame 
 Gilibert presented, in the esteem of king 
 Henry and his courtiers, the complete 
 model for a matron of quality ; indeed 
 her gracious aspect and benevolent smile 
 were calculated to adorn any character 
 of dress, and to rise superior to the pigmy 
 vicissitudes of fashion. 
 
 Plates of confects were now presented 
 on perfumed napkins, together with gob- 
 lets of sack, canary, and rhenish ; and 
 though the king had signified an inten- 
 tion of hunting for a dinner before he 
 satisfied his appetite, he seemed much 
 more inclined to while away the time 
 previous to the repast by gay and jocular 
 converse with Matilda, and the numerous 
 youthful beauties now assembled round 
 
 her.
 
 86 AN vlM> FAMILY LEGEND. 
 
 her. This period indeed was not of op'- 
 pressive duratian ; for by half pasr eleven 
 the tables were spread, and lord Wal- 
 tham announced the readiness of that 
 banquet, for which the jovial monarch 
 was alike prepared by appetite and in— 
 cl in at ion. 
 
 The great hall of Waltham castle never 
 wore a more splendid appearance. At 
 the upper end of that most spacious room 
 stood the elevated table set apart for the 
 tise of the king. Two long ranges of 
 hospitable oaken board, covered with a- 
 profusion of sumptuous viands, occupied 
 the sides. Each recess- exhibited a sus- 
 pended carpet, and a heap of glittering- 
 plate. The gallery was hung with cloth • 
 of gold, and ranged there, were seen min- 
 strels and musicians,. all clad in holiday 
 garb, and eager to give proof of their ta- 
 lent
 
 AN OLD FAMILY LEGEND. &7 
 
 lent bv fillinj]: the vast edifice with strains 
 of triumphant melody. The moment for 
 exertion soon arrived. The king en- 
 tered the hall, and the trumpet, the re- 
 corders, the sackbuts, and the cornets, 
 loudly celebrated his approach. 
 
 Twenty poor knights (all of whom were 
 supported by the munificence of the 
 house of Wallham) led the way, each 
 dressed in a velvet gown,, and ornamented 
 with a €hain of gold. The gentleman 
 usher, in a long black robe, and his rod 
 of office in his hand, followed in a mea- 
 sured sLep, and with an air of wonderful 
 importance. Then appeared the king, 
 niv lord of Waltham politely attending 
 at hia left hand, and marshalling to him 
 the way. Wolsey, and the official nobles 
 ©f the court, followed ; and the esquires 
 and pages belonging to each brought 
 
 UD
 
 8S AN OLD PAMIJ.Y LBGENU. 
 
 up the rear. The serving-men of the 
 cnstle already were ranged on either side 
 of the hall, and they bowed to the ground 
 while the monarch and his train passed 
 to the upper end of the room. 
 
 When king Henry was seated beneath' 
 the cloth of state^ his table was immedi- 
 ately covered with a profusion of viands, 
 earl Rov^land himself placing the first 
 dish, and each person reverently tasting- 
 the article which he deposited on the 
 loaded board. Here were seen swans, 
 cranes, herns, and pelicans; quails, hares, 
 partridges, and large dishes of spiced 
 blackbirds. The pike, the lamprgy,, and 
 spotted trout, also found a place; and- 
 Henry expressed particular pleasure at- 
 the appearance of a huge baron of beef*, 
 which occupied the centre of the table. 
 Many excuses did earl Rowland proffer^. 
 
 I weer^.
 
 AN OLD FAMILY LEGEND. 89 
 
 I weerij concerning the scantiness of the 
 fare placed before his royal guest; but 
 Henry possessed an appetite not to be 
 shamed by the mock humility of his en- 
 tertainer, and he proceeded, with the true 
 spirit of a Briton, to make a fearful ha- 
 voc among dishes conspicuously British 
 in amplitude as well as character. 
 
 Meanwhile, at the long table on the 
 right hand of the king, Wolsey and the 
 courtier lords evinced an appetite and 
 love of festivity emulous even of their 
 royal master's renown for those qualities. 
 Towards the upper end of this table were 
 seated the females who honoured the 
 banquet with their presence; but the 
 gay and polite cardinal was much too 
 gallant to suffer these ladies to retain the 
 country fashion, and to sit in a groupe. 
 ^At his motion each lady permitted an 
 
 obsequious
 
 90 AN OI.D FAMILY LEGXND. 
 
 ob^^iiious knight to l)e her neighbour 
 at the board of merriment ; and these 
 knights were too well acquainted wilh- 
 the cardinal's festive humour to neglect 
 any sally of wit thai might add point to the 
 gaiety of the hour^ and increase the gene- 
 ral tendency to conviviality. In the. 
 centre of the table was placed an im- 
 mense salt-cellar of silver, below which 
 sat the visitors of humbler powers and 
 inferior dignity. 
 
 Although an oppressive ceremonial of 
 rank prevented the king from sitting 
 publicly at table with the subjects, of 
 whose hospitality he condescended to 
 partake, he did not siiffer solitary magni- 
 ficence to deprive him of the converse 
 of the revellers. None applauded more 
 cordially than he the gallant insinuatioiv 
 which mingled a blush with the titter of 
 
 listening
 
 AN OLD FAMILY LEGliND. f) t 
 
 listening beauty. Henry could joke too; 
 he was now pi-ofuse of his humour, and 
 every sally that escaped his lips convulsed 
 the whole board with laughter. No 
 wonder, when their jokes are so success- 
 ful, that kings readily believe themselves 
 to be wits. 
 
 The lady Gilibert listened with some 
 distaste to the boisterous merriment of 
 the hour. When she had visited the 
 court, good queen Katherine presided 
 there in full power; and a formal and 
 dignified reserve was the characteristic of 
 those who approached the hallowed pre- 
 cincts of the throne. The succeeding 
 events of lady Gilibert's life had been ill 
 calculated to increase a love of jocularity 
 in her bosom ; and she now beheld the 
 unbridled gaiety of Henry with great 
 amazenientj and with a^ much dislike as 
 
 she
 
 # 92 AN OLD FAMILY LEGEND* 
 
 she would allow herself to entertain con- 
 cerning the person and manners of *' the 
 Lord's anointed.'* 
 
 But lady Gilibert was not the only per- 
 son present to whom the tumultuary 
 mirth of the day conveyed a pang of un- 
 easiness. — Cuthbert, whose duty it was to 
 wait on Wolsey, while the earl attended 
 the king, beheld the blush mantle on Ma- 
 tilda's cheek, and cursed the sacrilegious^ 
 witling who dared to afiront her ear, in 
 compliment to the vitiated taste of a li- 
 centious sovereign. He saw the notice 
 which her beauty attracted from the most 
 distinguished of the nobles, and wished 
 himself ingulfed ere he had lived to wit- 
 ness this unfortunate visit of the court. 
 He watched with inquisitive dread the eye 
 of Henry, with whose character report 
 had made him well acquainted. Nor did 
 
 he
 
 AN OLD FAMILY LEGEND. 93 
 
 he (so timid are a lover's apprehensions) 
 believe the dan<jer of Henrv beholdincr 
 Matilda to be less imminent, from the 
 circumstance of the kino- beinor ena- 
 moured at that juncture (as was generally 
 asserted) of the charms of Anne Boleyn. 
 Feeling, in the conviction of his own 
 heart, that Matilda's excellencies were 
 capable of creating an enthusiastic pas- 
 sion, Cuthhert imagined that they must 
 be viewed by all with similar admiration 
 and susceptibility ; and, he too well knew 
 the power of Henry to be equal to the 
 inost inordinate of his wishes. 
 
 But even the trembling jealousy of 
 fervent love could not torture the looks 
 of the king into an alarming semblance. 
 His address was divided among all, and 
 his smiles bestowed on each. A more 
 rational cause for apprehension was cre- 
 ated
 
 f)4 AN OLD FAMILY LEGEND. 
 
 ated by the marked attentions of the un- 
 known courtier who sat beside Matilda, 
 and a new source of suspicion was opened 
 in the mind of Cuthbert ; but his anxiety- 
 was increased by being divided, and he 
 stood a smilin^i; attendant on the digni- 
 fied ease of Wolsey, but the prey of in- 
 describable torture. 
 
 At length (however stubborn in its 
 nature) the appetite of the banquetters 
 became satiated. The ponderous dishes 
 were removed to «:ratifv the ardent lon<i- 
 ings of those who sat in array no less ce- 
 remonious than that preserved by their 
 superiors in the lower halls. And now, 
 king Henry lifted towards his lip a huge 
 cupfilledwith the purest wine of Gascony. 
 The rnusic paused. '* Your health, my 
 lord ofWaltham !*' said Henry, drinking. 
 " Pledge me, host, and prove the hearti- 
 ness
 
 AN OLD FAMILY I.EGLND. 95 
 
 ness of your wish by the depth of your 
 draught " — Earl Rowland seized the cup. 
 *'The royal Henry !" exclaimed he, loudly. 
 The trumpets soundedj the company rose, 
 and " the ro\ al Henry !" echoed each re- 
 veller, j)larin<4- tlie goblet to his lips. 
 
 Dame Gilibert, novv with an air of 
 prodigious dignity, prepared to leave the 
 table, and her example was followed by 
 her fair companions, though unwillingly 
 by aM, except Matilda, who readily per- 
 ceived tlie uneasiness to which Cuthbert 
 •was subject, and who regarded his claim 
 on her circumspection and reserve as no 
 less imperative and sacred than that of a 
 husband. But Henry, warmed b}' the joys 
 of the banquet, and ever gallant in the 
 hour of conviviality, strenuously op- 
 posed so immediate a departure, and or- 
 dering his goblet to be filled to the brim, 
 
 he
 
 96 AN OLD FAMILY LEGEND. 
 
 he drank to the health of the fair damsel 
 of Waltham and her ladv-friends. " And 
 would my lady Gilibert/' cried the jocose 
 monarch, " be the first to quit us ? 
 What ! have we forgotten the gay and 
 courtly days which we have seen toge- 
 gether? By the good year, I ween not 
 so ! and full sorry should we be if the 
 dame herself had so little heart as to for- 
 get that we are old acquaintance/' 
 
 At the term ''acquaintance/' lady Gi- 
 iibert drew up her head, with something 
 bordering on solemnity ; but recollecting 
 that it was a king who spoke, she made a 
 low curtsey, and thanked liis grace for 
 the honour of his notice. 
 
 Never had half an hour appeared in 
 the apprehension of Cuthbert of such 
 lingering, wearisome length as that which 
 still intervened before the ladiesdeparted. 
 
 Once
 
 AN OLD FAMILY LEGEND. 9T 
 
 Once he caught the glance of Matilda ; 
 it was a glance that would have atoned 
 for ages of past anxiety ; it spjke assu- 
 rance, tenderness, and pity. But nothing 
 could nowassuagetheanguish he endured; 
 and when the ladies at length quitted the 
 hall, he was doomed to behold his affi- 
 anced bride led forth by a gay and pre- 
 suming courtier, who seemed to press the 
 hand he held, while he whispered fami- 
 liar compliments, and bent towards lier 
 with a tender and insinuating air. The 
 most minute action was watched by Cuth- 
 bert ; and he had long gazed on the passage 
 through which Matilda passed from the 
 hall, when, turning, ho looked towards 
 the king, and perceived the eves of Henry 
 fixed intently on him. He started in dis- 
 mny, and hastily stooped to make an offer 
 
 VOL. I. F o^
 
 $8 AN OLD FAMILY LEGEND. 
 
 x)r services to the potent cardinal, behind 
 whose seat he was placed. 
 
 The king was struck with his appear- 
 ance ; and after some inquiries, desired 
 earl Rowland to conduct the youth to his 
 lable. The chagr^i and repugnance of 
 the earl were too evident for conceal- 
 ment ; but resistance was unavailing; 
 and with a discontent.ed air, though with 
 counterfeited smiles and well-painted 
 suavity, he led Cuthbert to the chair of 
 tiie sovereign. 
 
 *' Rise, young man I" said the king to 
 Cythbert, who had fallen on his knee; 
 " rpy lord of Walt ham tells us thai your 
 arm preserved his life. Never yet did 
 we willing] V ne"lcct to reward merit in 
 tie field, I trow. We bade you rise ; 
 stoop rather, and rise not, till you re- 
 ceive
 
 AN OLD FAMILY tEGEND. 9^ 
 
 celve the meed of bravery/' So sayings 
 king Henry unsheathed his sword, and 
 gently touching the youth's forehead^, he 
 exclaimed, '' Now rise, sir Cuthbert, and 
 God nerve your arm in the day of need !" 
 A gloomy cloud overspread the brow 
 of earl Rowland, but the eye of Henry, 
 which was quickly turned on him, dis- 
 pelled that threatening vapour on the 
 instant. Cuthbert, w'ith an ingenuous 
 blush on his countenance, gracefully rose, 
 and said, in a voice which faltered 
 through gratitude rather than from a want 
 of due confidence (for his blood rose 
 proudly wiihin him to meet the royal 
 sword that stamped knighthood on his 
 forehead), '' Alas, my liege ! I am all too 
 un courtly to express, in suited terms, the 
 big sentiments which swell in m^y soul ; 
 hiW ever shall the arm on which you have 
 F 2 dei^rned
 
 100 AN OLD FAMTIY LEGEND. 
 
 deigned to implore succour in the day 
 of perilj be dedicated to your service, 
 
 while " at that instant he met the eye 
 
 of the earl. It spoke volumes, and seemed 
 as if it would speak them in thunder; 
 " while following,'* continued Cuthbert, 
 with hesitation, ** the lead of earl Wal- 
 tham, your majesty's zealous subject, and 
 my support and patron.*' 
 
 The severity of the earl's brow re- 
 laxed, and Henry graciously nodded, 
 while Cuthbert bowed and withdrew. 
 
 The eyes of all assembled in the hall 
 had been fixed on this transaction ; and 
 Cuthbert soon found the effect of his new 
 honours in the deference with which he 
 wa3 uniformly treated. The haughty no- 
 ble, who but a short hour ^^ before had 
 passed him with indifference or contempt, '^ 
 now pressed his hand and smiled, and was 
 
 his
 
 AN OLD FAMILY LEGEND. 101 
 
 his devoted sprvant. Pride bowed, envy 
 flattered, and meanness would have knelt 
 to sweep the way for the new-made 
 knight; while Cuthbert, who knew little 
 of the human heart, except from the in- 
 formation conveyed by his own bosom, 
 placed all this wannth to the score of ge- 
 nuine esteem ; and felt more gratified by 
 the proffered friendship of the brave than 
 by the unexpected honour which had raised 
 him from obscurity, and bestowed a current 
 value on the humble worth of his name. 
 
 Meantime, the goblet gaily circulated, 
 and so rare was the wine, and so captiva- 
 ting, if not refined, were the flashes of 
 wit which passed from table to table, and 
 almost shook the hall with laughter, that 
 night approached ere the vassallers for- 
 sook the board for the purpose of enter- 
 ing the spacious gallery in which supper 
 F 3 was
 
 10!2 AN OLD FAMILY LEGEND. 
 
 was spread : a meal nearly as substantial 
 as that which had been prepared at half- 
 past eleven, the customary hour of mo- 
 dern breakfast. 
 
 The high and pointed windows of thi« 
 gallery were lighted by strings of lamps, 
 and numerous cressets were suspended 
 from gilt hooks fastened in the fretted 
 ceiling. At the gallery-end was erected 
 a balcony, where musicians sat daring the 
 repast. When thesupper service was with- 
 drawn, the minstrels, who were retained 
 by the magnificent lord of the domain, 
 ascended this balcony, and craved per- 
 mission to recite their metrical legends. 
 A ready assent was granted. Kin^ 
 Henry delighted in the bold and roman- 
 tic narrations of these privileged sons of 
 genius, and every guest bent forward 
 with an eager ear, while the enraptured 
 
 minstrels
 
 AN OLD FAMILY LEGEND. 10^ 
 
 minstrels sang 'Mhe song of other days," 
 and summoned up, in long array, the gor- 
 geous shades of departed heroes. First, 
 the red-haired bard of Clavering Dale 
 recounted the splendour exhibited in 
 Gaei^-Segont, that venerable city, the 
 Vindonum of the Romans, when the great 
 prince Arthur was crowned within its 
 walls.. Then blind Stephanus, surnamed 
 the many-tuned, sang the victories of the 
 ^rst Edward — his exploits in the Holy 
 Land, and his wonderful feats among th^ 
 larlarians of northern Wallia. Lastly 
 rose an aged man, known by the appella- 
 tion of Roderic of the Wolds. His large 
 black eyes seemed pregnant with melan- 
 choly. His air was fretful and myste- 
 rious. Bald was his forehead ; but iron- 
 grey locks streamed over his shoulders in 
 venerable profusion. 
 
 F 4 ** ^ strange
 
 104 AN OLD FAMILY LEGEND. 
 
 " A Strange and fantastic story yov; 
 must expect, my liege, from Roderic/' 
 said earl Rowland, when he saw the old 
 nrian rise : — '' Rodericks dreary thoughts 
 find food in the marvellous." 
 
 The bard noted this speech of earl 
 Rowland, and h^ pressed his hand to his 
 heart, as if to signify that it was big with 
 facts of frightful, though domestic im- 
 port. Then he passed his thin white 
 hand over his forehead, and began to 
 jecite 
 
 The Tale of the Poisoned Cup, 
 
 Fah in the eastern wolds, a castle rare, 
 Of proud sir Walter Wolverton the boast, 
 
 Ilais'd its huge turrets to the midway air, 
 
 And stood a beacon on the treach'rous coast. 
 
 Fair seem'd sir Walter's fate, and yet the hind 
 Who careless pac'd along the steril heath 
 
 Was far more bless'd, when from the biting wind 
 lie shelter found, a moss-clad roof beneatV.
 
 AN OlD FAMILY LEGEND, 105 
 
 One only cliild — the sweetest bud of spring 
 
 That e'er was touch'd with pure Promethean iire. 
 
 Upheld sir Walter's name, with halcyon wing. 
 Bat prov'd the source of many a foul desire. 
 
 Tile rich lord Hubert, tho' by blood allied, 
 Still reveli'd in the sunshine of life's noon. 
 
 " Tis d(Tne !" with sudden force sir Walter cried, 
 " My child, thy path with flow'rs of gold is strewn !" 
 
 Then strait the wily knight a feast prepar'd, 
 
 Where treasur'd luxury spread its ample hoard ; 
 
 And begg'd the neighbours who his best lore shar'd 
 Would likewise share the welccrme of his board. 
 
 Now smokes the kitchen, v/hile the vassi\ls trim, 
 With looks important, line the hnll of state, 
 
 Fill vvith rich wine each goblet to the brim, 
 And place it near the guests' allotted plate. 
 
 But, lo ! the cup for good lord Hubert nam'di 
 The host's own liand with poison rank pollutes ! 
 
 E'en Walter's hand, for deeds of valour fam^d, 
 Such, pride and av'rice, are thy loathsome fruits! 
 
 y 5 ♦' Look
 
 106 AN OLD FAMILY LEGFND. 
 
 " Look out, each servitor, anri climb tlie tow'r ! 
 
 The banquet waits. Nurse, hither bring the cliild !'^ 
 Poor lamb, unweeting of the fearful hour. 
 
 How sweet the baby-grace with which you smil'd ! 
 
 " Sure," quoth the knight, " they are with fiends aliietf, 
 Thus to elude my wrath and shun the fates I 
 
 May all the fiends of hell, to quit their pride, 
 Sit on their seats, and eat from off their plates I" 
 
 No sooner had he boldly spoken so, 
 
 Than horrid uproars ran the courts about ; 
 
 Wild gibb'ring shrieks, half-sraother'd screams of woe^. 
 And many a diabolic clam'rous shout. 
 
 I*ale turn'd sir Walter, -while the vassal train 
 Fled with the swiftness of the northern gale ; 
 
 And, ah ! the nurse of Walter's heir was fain 
 To drop her burthen, reckless of its wail ! 
 
 For now the gibb'ring crowd approach, and see ? 
 
 A hideous band in dem.on-shape appears. 
 Such forms the night-mare ne'er produced, when he. 
 
 The God of Conscience, wakes the murd'rer's fears ! 
 
 The
 
 AN OLD FAMILY LEGEND. 107 
 
 Th^ knight uiisheath'd his sword, but backward drew, 
 
 For every spectre pointed at his breast, 
 As (wnipp'd in flames of pale transparent blue) 
 
 Towards the loaded board they furious press'd, - 
 
 Stagg'ring sii- Walter fled, and join'd the tlirong 
 Who stood in haggard fear without tlie walls; 
 
 But stopp'd not here, I ween, sir Walter long, 
 For flanres soon- issue and the rampart fiills. - 
 
 *'■ Oh, Heav'itr' exelaim'd the knight, with sore disma;'";;- 
 " Where is my bairn, my hope, my only child-?" 
 
 Alas ! poor bud, low in the hall he lay. 
 
 The sport of imps and fiends aad s-pectres wild ! 
 
 Rash'd in sir Walter, though the letts of hell 
 
 His way impeded and his eye assail'd. 
 Tiie hall he gain'd, but mortal ne'er shall tell ■ 
 
 Wliat voice, w hat words his phreuzied entrance hail'd^-- 
 
 He looked, he saw — oh, uliat a hideous scene ' 
 Around the board the grisly band v\ ere drawn ; 
 
 Each dish they tasted, and, tv/o fiends between. 
 Was plac'd sir Walter's heir — poor babe forlorn I 
 
 y6 l^vM-
 
 108 AN OLD FAMILY LEGEND', 
 
 Loud scream'd the imps, and bade sir Walter tread 
 With cautious rev'rence o'er the burning stoncy 
 
 "Wliile from thk poisoned cup his babe they fed, 
 And nirock'd with grins its famt and woful moan. 
 
 Distraught he flew, and snatch'd the wretched boy, 
 And eas'd its struggles, sooth'd its piteous cry ; 
 
 But all too late ! — the fiends, with dreadful joy. 
 Behold it blacken, struggle, wail — and die. 
 
 Loud shout the band, and quit the guilty bally 
 The flames uprise, and pierce the ceiling fair: 
 
 The pillars totter, down the turrets fall, 
 And bury proud sir W^alter and his heir. 
 
 The bard ceased^ and a dead silence for 
 some moments prevailed. The few who 
 possessed sound understanding, smiled ; 
 while the major part of the auditory 
 looked on each other, unknowing of the 
 \s ay in which it was meet to consider this 
 
 wild
 
 A'N OLD FAMILY LEGEND. 109 
 
 wild legend. But tl^e king ( who thought 
 it incumbent on his royal dignity to af- 
 fect disdain) shook his head, and broke - 
 into laughter. The courtly banquetters 
 caught the monarch's tone, and bursts of 
 laughter ran round the board, which were 
 not the less loud for being tributary and 
 artificial. 
 
 Still the heart cannot pay homage on 
 compulsion, and Rodericks story (to 
 which the manner of the narrator im- 
 parted a great additional influence) had 
 spread a gloom over the reflections of 
 most present, which ill-assimilated with 
 the festive purpose of the hour. Faint 
 efforts were made to dispel the mist of 
 melancholy, and to chase the fiend ofsu- 
 ^perstition from the surcharged board. 
 But every endeavour was unavailing. 
 The reveller's occupation was gone. 
 5 With
 
 1 iO AN OLD FAMILY LEGENI3. 
 
 With solemn night-like visage, the more 
 loquacioas leant over the board, and re- 
 peated gloomy and appalling tales to 
 throngs of wondering listen-ers. A cloud, 
 in despite of all his efiforts, stole aver the 
 face even of the noble host ; and Henry, 
 finding that mirth and jollity resisted all 
 solicitation, broke up the banquet, and 
 his grooms, preceded by the courteous 
 earl, conducted him to his chamber; at 
 the door of which he stopped, and said, 
 " Farewell, my lord of Waltham ! Be- 
 neath your turrets we, at any rate, defy 
 witchcraft. A good-night to yon ;" 
 
 The servitors extinguished the flaming 
 tapers of the gallery, and a drear and de- 
 jected silence succeeded the boisterous 
 shouts of revelry ; while the cold pale 
 beams of the moon, shining through 
 fretted arches and sections of painted 
 
 glass.
 
 AN OLD FAMILY LEGEND. 1 H 
 
 glass, aloae illumined the stately halls and 
 spacious bowers, lately so brilliant in the 
 garish light ofa hundred suspended lamps^ 
 and gilded cressets. 
 
 It was now that Cuthbert painfully re- 
 membered the injunction of the earl, 
 *' When all is silence and midnight in the 
 galleries, be you at hand I" — That hour 
 was come 1^ — he listened- — the faint dis- 
 tant echo caused by the shutting of a door, 
 or the murmur ofa nightly benediction, 
 was all that sounded. — He looked — the 
 playful quiver of a moonbeam on th<e 
 gothic carving of the room alone met his 
 eye. '' Yes !'* said he, '' the hour is in- 
 deed come. Good angels guard n^e 
 through it 1'* 
 
 CHAP.
 
 I;li2 . AN OLD FAMILY LEGEND. 
 
 CHAP. VI. 
 
 The single window placed at the end of 
 the gallery into which opened the hall of 
 justice, consisted of small panes of glass, 
 on which neglect had suffered the dust of 
 many years to accumulate. The imper- 
 fect rays which stole through this obscure 
 window, when Cuthbert entered the gal- 
 lery, were not sufficient to dispel the 
 gloom of the desolate passage. With his 
 arm extended before him, he groped his 
 way to the massy door that led to the 
 hall. He paused^ and listened at the 
 
 door-way.
 
 AN OLD FAMILY LEGENH. 11$ 
 
 door-way. A profound quiet reigned 
 within the room. But, on a sudden, a 
 sound arose in the passage, and some- 
 thing brushed hastily past his foot. He 
 involuntarily started ! — 'Twas a night- 
 wandering weasel, which paced aloiig it5 
 wonted haunt, fearless of interruption. 
 Again all was profound stillness ; and 
 Cuthbert disdainfully chided the emotion 
 into which he had been surprised. He 
 placed his hand on his side, and looked 
 round with haughty confidence. At that 
 moment a sound met his ear, calculated 
 to amaze the stoutest heart. It was a 
 low, struggling, indistinct expression of 
 pain or misery, which seemed not to issue 
 from human lips. Never had Cuthbert 
 listened to such a sound ! Jf it bore any. 
 similitude to mortal utterance, it would 
 appear to resemble the frantic effort at 
 
 exclamation
 
 I 14 AN OLD FAMILY I.ECEN^. 
 
 exclamation of some half-strangled^ 
 wretch, whose glazing eyes beheld the 
 quick approach of death, and who made 
 a last struggle to implore assistance ere 
 the ley monster sealed up his lips for 
 ever. The cry did not arise from the 
 immediate neighbourhood of Cuthberf, 
 but seemed echoed from a distance by the 
 *' low-browed vaults " which fame re- 
 ported to lie beneath the hall of justice. 
 '' Accursed hour !" exclaimed Cuthberf, 
 after the first moment of horror; "to 
 what a sad employment have I devoted 
 the blossom of my youth ! Yet sure/' 
 continued he, wiping a cold drop from 
 his brow, " mv fancv, tainted bv the 
 gloom of this solitary and ominous place, 
 beguiles the sobriety of my reason ? I 
 have heard that wretches doomed to en- 
 ccHinter;, in midnight, and all alone, the 
 
 mysterious
 
 AN OLD FAMILY LEGEND. Ill} 
 
 n"iysterious terrors of some solemn chan- 
 cel or excavated burial-place, have, in 
 the temporary phrenzy of imagination, 
 thought they beheld sirange sights, and 
 heard dismal and unusual rnoans^ while 
 all was free and quiet, except their 
 own distempered fears. It must be so. 
 Avaunt, superstition ! and take thy pigmy 
 terrors with thee.'* 
 
 He paced in a quick step along the 
 gallery, and trod with strength, to assure 
 himself that it was only his own footstep 
 which sounded. Ever as he passed the 
 oaken door, he paused and listened. All 
 was quiet; till at length, just as he was 
 approaching the door, upbraiding in 
 his thou2:hts the unfriendlv tardiness of 
 the earl, the same sound again arrested 
 his ear, but in a lower cadence, as if suf- 
 focation hatl made a closer advance^ and 
 
 the
 
 ] 16 AN Old family legend. 
 
 the distressed spirit was about to quit the 
 blackened form of the sufferer. " This/* 
 said Cuthbert, shuddering, '' is no illu- 
 sion ! The stroke of death is now deal- 
 ing on some victim. And shall I stand, 
 entranced in wonder, while a fellow- 
 creature groans beneath the practice of 
 thedeath's-man ? Barriers of iron should 
 not out-shut me.** He placed his foot to 
 the oaken door, and was vainly striving 
 to force it open, when a beam of light 
 quivered along the floor of the gallery, 
 and a man appeared at the farther end, 
 closely wrapped in a cloak, and with a 
 small half-secreted lanthorn in his hand. 
 It was Rowland. " Ah, my lord !** ex- 
 claimed Cuthbert, hastening towards him. 
 
 ''Peace!" replied earl Rowland, wa- 
 ving: his hand. 
 
 '^ Alas, my lord,'* cried Guthbert, ea- 
 gerly.
 
 AN OLD FAMILY LEGEND. 1 17 
 
 gerly, '' this is not the hour of peace I 
 Such horrid groans have issued from that 
 room as might appal a heart of adamant." 
 
 "Groans?'* repeated Rowland, in a 
 slow long cadence. ''The coinage haply 
 of your active fancy.?'* 
 
 '' Ah, no ! my Jord/' said Cuthbert; 
 '^ once the wanderiu^^s of imagination 
 might mislead my judgment ; but this 
 sickening moan has crossed my ear more 
 than once." 
 
 Earl Rowland made no reply ; but 
 drawing from the pouch which was at- 
 tached to his girdle, a large key, he has- 
 tily unlocked the oaken door, and entered 
 the mysterious apartment. Cuthbert fol- 
 lowed in silence and expectation. 
 
 The hall of justice was vacant^ still, and 
 gloomy. Their footsteps slightly echoed 
 
 as
 
 US AX OLD FAMIJA* LIOEND. 
 
 as they trod over the black fiooring, but 
 
 that echo was all that interrupted the 
 
 profound quiet of inidnii^ht. Still Cuth- 
 
 bert kppt his iiand on the hilt of his sword, 
 
 as he walked, and many a suspicio\]s 
 
 glance he threw towards the erect coats 
 
 of mail which occupied niches in the 
 
 walls. Earl Rowland stopped when they 
 
 reached one of the largest columns of this 
 
 extensive room, and placed the lanthorn 
 
 in Cuthbert's hand. '' Stay here awhile, 
 
 good Cuthbert !" said he. •' For a short 
 
 time I quit you. I will not tarry long." 
 
 Cuthbert hesitated. The earl read his 
 
 thoughts : '' My friend," said he, pres* 
 
 sing the youth's hand, '' I cannot — will 
 
 not^— yet speak plainly. Suffice it that 
 
 no sufferer needs your interposition. 
 
 Wild chimeras fly across your fancy ; 
 
 but
 
 AN -OT,D FAMILY LEGEND, 110 
 
 "b: i tlie sword you <2[rasp is not wanted. 
 Rest here in security. I return on the 
 instant/' 
 
 Cuthbert was left by himself. His eye 
 followed the steps of the earl, till the 
 gloom of distance shut them from his 
 view. He heard a door grate on its 
 hi.nge; the door closed, and all was 
 again hushed as *''the foot of night.'* 
 The noveltv of the situation ; the frii>ht- 
 ful singularity of the purpose which 
 caused him to visit the lone and dreary 
 hall in which he stood ; and the indis- 
 tinctness of his conceptio;.5 concerning 
 the circumstances which surrounded him, 
 concurred to produce, in the rnind of 
 Cuthbert, a species of momentary torpor, 
 a cloudy vacancy of thought, which not 
 unfrequently comes to the reKef of an 
 overcharged imagination. From this 
 
 friendly
 
 120 AN OLD FAMILY LEGEND. 
 
 friendly Stagnation of idea, he was aroused 
 by a repetition of that strange and pierce- 
 ins: sound which had before so much sur- 
 prised him. The tone was lower, but if 
 possible, still more appalling, still farther 
 remote from any thing that was natural 
 and accustomed. An instant had scarcely 
 passed before the inarticulate expi*ession 
 of pain was followed by a loud laugh — if 
 the word laughter can express such a sar- 
 donic convulsive distortion of muscle as 
 expends itself in phrenzied ebullitions of 
 seeming merriment. It was such a strain 
 of laughter as might blafTch the cheek of 
 joy in the most airy moment of its most 
 festive mood. Cuthbert's blood curdled 
 in his veins. *' I will go no farther!" 
 said he. '* The God who placed courage 
 in the human breast, strengthened no 
 nerve for scenes of such fearful encoun- 
 ter
 
 AN OLD FAMILY LEGEND. 121 
 
 ter as this. I would not listen again to 
 that horrid voice for an emperor's 
 diadem." 
 
 At that moment a door heavily turned 
 on its creeking hinges. A step ^ap- 
 proached. He drew his sword^ and held 
 it extended before him. The faint light 
 glittered on the blade, and was perceived 
 by the earl^ who was now advancing. 
 " What mean these puny fears?'' cried he, 
 in an angry tone. "Must I again tell you 
 that you tread free from danger? And 
 is Cuthbert indeed so easily scared ! 
 Put up your useless sword, and follow 
 me." 
 
 The taunt conveyed by the earl, to- 
 wards the close of his speech, was pre- 
 cisely calculated to overcome the repug- 
 nance of Cuthbert. — '' Scared ! my lord 
 of Waltham .?" answered he, returning his 
 
 VOL. I', G weapon
 
 122 AN OLD FAMILY LEGEND. 
 
 weapon to its scabbard. " I should much 
 xnarvel if any man dared to lead where I 
 did not dare to follow.** 
 
 The earl waited not for farther discus- 
 sion, but seized the light, and led his com- 
 panion to the upper end of the hall. He 
 paused before a certain point of the 
 wainscot, and removing cautiously one of 
 the carved flowers by which it was orna- 
 mented, he applied a small key, on which 
 the pannel slipped aside, and disclosed a 
 narrow vaulted passage. They entered, 
 and the earl slightly closed the secret 
 pannel. Not a word passed till they ar- 
 rived at a low and pointed door-way. 
 ^^ We are there!" exclaimed the earl. 
 '' Cuthbert, prove thy words, and be in- 
 deed my unshaken friend and true ad- 
 herent." 
 
 Cuthbert bowed. The door slowly 
 
 opened.
 
 AN OLD FAMILY LEGEND. 123 
 
 opened, and they entered. What was the 
 surprise of Ciithbert when he beheld 
 the strange embellishments of this exca- 
 vated and recluse apartment ! Suspended 
 at the farther end was seen a large and 
 sable pall of velvet, which hung like the 
 scene portentous of some strange and 
 awful drama. Before this gloomy object 
 stood a table, over which was spread a 
 cloth or canvas, painted with unknown 
 and grotesque characters and emblems. 
 On the table were placed two lighted 
 waxen tapers, between which was an alem- 
 bic, filled with such ingredients as none 
 but " things of night " could gather, and 
 which (though they are punctually enu- 
 merated in the antient manuscript from 
 which 1 borrow this part of my legend) I 
 forbear to mention, from a detestation of 
 those occult arts once too generally prac- 
 G 2 tised
 
 124 AN OLD FA^IlLr LEGEND. 
 
 tised among my countrymen ; arts which 
 debased the spirit of adventurous enter- 
 prize, and warped the best interests of 
 philosophy and religion. 
 
 When Cuthbert beheld this mysterious 
 preparation, his surprise could no longer 
 remain mute. '' To what, my lord,'' 
 cried he, with troubled energy, ^' doth 
 all this tend?'' 
 
 " Silence !" returned earl Rowland, in 
 a tremulous whisper. " Be advised. We 
 are not alone." 
 
 Cuthbert looked round with increased 
 amazement, and beheld, not without 
 anxiety and a portion of dismay, the vel- 
 vet pall slightly move when the earl 
 ceased to speak. 
 
 '^I am here!" exclaimed the earl 
 aloud. "Is all ready ?'* 
 
 ** All is. ready that I can perform," 
 
 returned
 
 AN OLD FAMILY LEGEND. 125 
 
 returned a low sepulchral voice. " It 
 is desperate^ mortal courage that must 
 do the rest, Where are the bones?" 
 
 " I go/* returned earl Rowland, and he 
 quitted the cell, attended by Cuthbert. 
 They passed through several vaulted pas- 
 sages, some low, some high, but all so 
 narrow that not more than one person 
 could proceed at a time. These wind- 
 ing avenues led to the chapel, and opened 
 at the extremity of the eastern aisle. 
 
 ^^Mas ! my lord," said Cuthbert, look- 
 ing round on the sacred objects of this 
 august place, " whither would you lead 
 tne ? Are the dead to be summoned as 
 witnesses of our horrible league ?" 
 
 '' You do not fear empty skulls and 
 
 marble monuments, my kind and valiant 
 
 Cuthbert," replied the earl, *' You 
 
 noted my mention of that strange and 
 
 € 3 awful
 
 126 AN OLD FAMILY LEGEND. 
 
 awful man who first impacted to me the 
 skill of piercing through the veil of fate, 
 and of anticipating destiny ? that ponde- 
 rous door leads to the vault in which his 
 frame moulders. Behold ! the door is 
 already open. Enter ! The coffin un- 
 closes with a spring. Lift the lid/ and 
 take thence a bone from either of the 
 skeleton's unresisting arms," 
 
 The moon at this moment dispensed a 
 pale beam through the painted window 
 of the chapel. It revealed all the sacred 
 but dreary objects of the holy place : the 
 images which seemed ever to weep in 
 pensive attitudes, over the ashes of de- 
 parted worth ; the sculptured effigies of 
 the prostrate warrior; the mystic em- 
 blems of the altar of our faith ; and the 
 mild but speaking agony of the sacred 
 being whose last moments of mortal suf- 
 fering
 
 AN OI.D FAMILY LEGEND. 127 
 
 fering were depictured with a reverential 
 hand on the canvas which surmounted 
 the table dedicated to christian adoration. 
 
 ^'Take thence a bone!" repeated 
 Cuthbert, with horror. " Much would I 
 do, earl Rowland, to prove the sincerity 
 of my attachment, but I will not be the 
 unsanctified violator of the dead. Peace 
 to his mysterious ashes ! They shall rest 
 free from the interruption of my trem* 
 bling hand." 
 
 '' Childish imaginist !" retorted the 
 earl. '' Must I tell you that it was the 
 wish of him who sleeps within this vault 
 that I should repair to his coffin in the 
 hour of need ? Come then, my hand 
 shall lift the lid, though I am prohibited 
 from moving the pledge of attachment 
 and assistance." 
 
 He grasped Cuthbert's arm, and they 
 G 4 entered
 
 128 AN OLD FAMILY LEGEND. 
 
 entered the chill damp mansion of the 
 dead. The coffin stood on trestles in the 
 centre of the vault, and over it was sus- 
 pended a small and dim lamp. The earl 
 touched the spring ; he raised the lid, 
 which moved on hinges ; and Cuthbert 
 beheld the marrowless bones which were 
 there enclosed. 
 
 " Now, kind and friendly Cuthbert !" 
 said the earl, '' fulfil thy office. Our 
 minutes are numbered. See, the lamp 
 ^'ibrates ! Lose not an instant, gentle 
 Cuthbert, I pray thee !'* 
 
 Cuthbert's senses staggered in horror 
 and surprise, and he rushed on the dan- 
 ger of violence to avoid the agony of an- 
 ticipation. He seized a crumbling bone 
 from the disjointed mass which lay before 
 him, and held it towards the earl. At 
 that moment the lid of the coffin closed, 
 
 and
 
 ^N OLD FAMILY LEGEND* 129 
 
 and the lamp fell from the ceiling and 
 broke into a thousand pieces. 
 
 " It is enough 1'* said the earl. " Rest, 
 awful fragments ! Thy cemetery is closed 
 for ever." 
 
 Was it a groan, or the murmur of a 
 confined stream of air as it brushed along 
 the chapel walls, that now met the ear of 
 Cuthbert ? He thought it the former, 
 and shuddered ;. but the earl smiled dis- 
 dainfully over his credulity, and they 
 retrod in silence the hollow ways by 
 which they had descended. 
 
 The waxen lights still burned, and the 
 pall was suspended as before. But when 
 they entered,a faint scream arose. '^ Ah !** 
 exclaimed a voice of terror, " you have 
 it ! I feel its presence I Break it spee- 
 dily, and spread the charm,'* 
 
 With a furious gesture^ as if he strove, 
 G 5 by
 
 ISO- AN OLD FAMILY LEGEND* 
 
 by an air ofdesperation, to overcome the 
 fear to which he was now subject, earl 
 Rowland rent the bone in twain, and cast 
 it into the alembic, from which soon is- 
 sued a pale and quivering flame. Then 
 the pall shook violently, and groans and 
 cries, which were most fearful to hear, 
 and which seemed of super-human im- 
 port, issued from behind that black and 
 dismal skreen. Anon the flame rose 
 higher, and a sound like thunder rum- 
 bled through the vaulted passages in the 
 neighbourhood. The tempestuous noise 
 came closer, and shook the firm-set earth 
 on which the earl and Cuthbert stood. 
 TheH the room seemed filled by a hun- 
 dred voices, and footsteps were heard 
 pacing all around. Yet no person was 
 i^isible, except themselves. On a sudden 
 all was hushed. The lights were extin- 
 guished^
 
 JIN OLD FAMIL'y LEGEND. 131 
 
 guhhedy and a voice from behind the 
 pall was heard to murmur frightful but 
 unknown words. A faint doubtful light 
 crept over the room. *' They are here 1" 
 groaned the voice behind the pall; 
 '' look, but touch not i" 
 
 The silence of a moment followed. 
 ^' Culhbert !" said the earl, gasping for 
 breath, " tell me what thou seest. Mine 
 eyes are dim, and I cannot trust to their 
 report." 
 
 " A form/' responded Cuthbert, '' oh 
 God ! how horrible ! — its features seem 
 distorted by convulsion. — Features ! — 
 Can I call them so ? They are like no- 
 thing human that it was ever my fate to 
 behold. The mouth is drawn into indis- 
 tinct horror. The eyes seem of leaden 
 dulness, and yet do they express misery 
 and despair with most touching emphasis. 
 G G The
 
 132 AN OLD FAMILY LEGEND. 
 
 The cheek — never was the cheek of 
 mortal so woe-begone and squalid ! — But 
 see ! the hideous form disjoints. It drops 
 limb from limb ! It sinks and disappears.'* 
 
 " And what possesses its place ?*' ex- 
 claimed the earl with delirious eagerness. 
 
 " A form/' said Cuthbert^ hesitating^ 
 — '^ a form of strength and beauty — a 
 form erect in manliness, and its counte- 
 nance decked with smiles/' 
 
 " I see/' faltered the earl, ^' I see some- 
 what, but cannot trace its lineaments. 
 "What is that object which surmounts its 
 head r' 
 
 *' Surely/' said Cuthbert, leaning for- 
 :wards, '^ it is a coronet of gold ! Me- 
 thinks I see the crimson velvet that lines 
 the gorgeous trophy." 
 
 " And to whom/' said the earl, faintly, 
 and leaning on Cuthbert's arm, *' to 
 
 whom
 
 AN OLD FAMILY LEGEND. 133 
 
 whom does the figure bear resem- 
 blance?" 
 
 '' It has," faltered Ciithberf, " ah, sure, 
 it has a likeness ! — But my aching eyes 
 mock the chastisement of reason. Let us 
 quit this place ! Jesu preserve us from- 
 its horrors ! '^ 
 
 At that moment every object was lost 
 in total darkness. The wild chorus of 
 mystic voices again was heard : again 
 whole throngs of footsteps seemed to 
 sound within the room. By degrees 
 these noises died away, and were lost m 
 distance, o-n which the earl^ seizing Cuth* 
 bert's arm^ quited the cell^ and flung af- 
 ter him the door. 
 
 They regained the solitary lig^ht which 
 Ihey had left in the passage, and were si^ 
 kntly treading towards the hall of justice, 
 \ihenj once more, that hideous and half- 
 smothered
 
 134 AN OLD FAMILY LECENB. 
 
 smothered groan, so wild, yet so expres- 
 sive of anguish, chilled the very heart's 
 blood ofCuthbert's bosam. And now it 
 seemed nearer, but was not more distinct 
 or comprehensible from its increased 
 loudness. *' Mighty Heaven," exclaimed 
 Cuthbert, ^'are these walls peopled witb 
 spectres ? Are we not yet alone }" 
 
 The earl sighed heavily. "This h no 
 aerial sound I" said he. Ah, my friend !'' 
 and he grasped the arm of Cuthbert, while 
 his breast heaved in agony, and large tears 
 fell down his cheek. For a time he was 
 lost in distress and confusion of thought; 
 then summoning his wonted confidence 
 to his aid, he pressed gently the hand of 
 his companion. " Urge me no farther,'' 
 resumed he, "at the present moment. 
 You shall speedily know all. Meanwhile 
 take thfe light and regain the accustomed 
 chambers
 
 AN OLD FAMILY LEGEND. 135 
 
 chambers of the castle. Too well I know 
 each winding channel of these recesses to 
 %vant the conduct of a taper. Adieu ! 
 I scarce need bid you to be silent as the 
 grave on what you have heard and seen. 
 Soon shall you know every hidden pur- 
 pose of my bosom ; but now I have not 
 strength for farther converse. Seek your 
 chamber^ and take with you my sworn 
 friendship: my thanks I will speak in 
 other language/* 
 
 He guided Cuthbert to the hall, and 
 then hastily returned to the secret pas- 
 sage, while Cuthbert repaired to his owi> 
 room, overcome with a crowd of fearful 
 and bewildering reflections. 
 
 lAP.
 
 13G AN OLD FAMILY LEGEND. 
 
 CHAP. vir. 
 
 When Cuthbert awoke from his short per- 
 turbed sleep, and reflected on the varied 
 adventures of the preceding evening, he 
 was lost in a maze of conjecture and re- 
 gret. In spite of the prejudices of edu- 
 cation, and the prevalent opinions of the 
 era, his natural strength of mind led him 
 to look with an eye of penetrating suspi- 
 cion on the seeming necromantic exhibi- 
 tion which he had witnessed. It was evi- 
 dent that a third person had been en^- 
 gaged in producing the wonders of the 
 \ hour.
 
 AN OLD FAMILY LEGEND, 137 
 
 hour, and he felt strongly inclined to ap- 
 prehend that the earl and himself had 
 been the dupes of this unseen agent, 
 and that the discordant crles^ the foot- 
 steps, and the shadowy portents, were 
 equally the works of human ingenuity, 
 and altogether unconnected with pre- 
 ternatural revelation and the spiritual 
 world. 
 
 But that strange and woful moan which, 
 to his uincy, was more appalling than the 
 sight of a shrouded spectre, the earl had 
 confessed to issue from mortal lips. And 
 what must be the pangs and trials of the 
 fellow-creature who struggled to express 
 his sorrow in plaints so horrible ? Cuth- 
 bert plainly perceived that the services 
 expected from his hand by earl Rowland 
 were connected with the situation of this 
 isolated and unknown resident in the 
 
 cattle ;
 
 138 AN Ol.F) FAMILY T.F,G£1«JD. 
 
 castle; and he dreaded even to form 
 conjectures as to the extent of the offices 
 thus required of him. He turned from 
 every fresh supposition with increased 
 abhorrence, and even feared that the un- 
 limited confidence of Jiis patron might 
 remove him still farther from the hope of 
 a prosperous union with Matilda. For 
 could he sully the purity of his affection 
 for his betrothed bride by purchasing the 
 uncontested possession of her hand at the 
 expence of probity and honour? Ma- 
 tilda would, herself, fly in disgust from 
 so detestable a sacrifice of principle at 
 the shrine of passion. And he knew suf- 
 ficient of earl Rowland to feel convinced 
 that his vengeance would keep pace with 
 his proffered liberality, should the least of 
 his wishes be contradicted^ or the most 
 trivial of his intentions meet with an ob- 
 stacle^
 
 AN OLD FAMILY LEGEND. 139 
 
 stacle^ from the hand of a presumed ad- 
 herent. Though compelled alike by pru- 
 dence and obligation to preserve invio- 
 lable secrecy in regard to every recent 
 occurpence, he eagerly desired to obtain 
 an interview with the object of his at- 
 tachment. Her smile, he thought, would 
 sooth the tempestuous conflict of his bo- 
 som, and her sigh cool the anxious fever 
 which parched his lip. — It is thus that all 
 naturally wish to fly when pressed by af- 
 fliction, or tormented by doubt, to the 
 presence of the beloved for consolation 
 and assurance. 
 
 But vain was every wish for a stolen 
 interchange of tender promises with the 
 subject of his hopes. For now the gal- 
 leries were thronged with the servitors of 
 the castle, and the attendants on the royal 
 visitor. Already the music sounded be- 
 neath
 
 HO AN OLD FAMILY LEGEKIT. 
 
 neath the windows of the chamber in 
 which Henry reposed, while bands ofno- 
 bles paraded the banquettlng-roomS; or 
 strayed along the nvenues of the park. 
 Breakfast was a solitary neal at this period 
 of our national manners • and different 
 viands were now served t«< the private 
 tables of Henry and his atti rdant cour- 
 tiers. The monarch break! 'ted on a 
 chine of beef, a dish of brawn a venison 
 pasty, and mild ale. No cour ;y noble, 
 or polished knight, laid a foundation for 
 the day with less substantial fare. 
 
 The temporary quiet which ook place 
 during this hour of early ret eshment, 
 afforded a flattering hope to Cuthbert of 
 stealing, iinperceived, to that little book- 
 room, at the end of the southern gallery, 
 in which he had sometimes been accus- 
 tomed to meet Matilda. He trod with 
 
 anxiety
 
 AN OLD FAMILY LEGEND. 141 
 
 anxiety and caution. Each passing me- 
 nial appeared a spy on his conscious ac- 
 tions, and he listened to the fancied voice 
 of the earl in every distant murmur that 
 met his ear. So timid can that passion 
 which placed a distaff in the hand of 
 Hercules, render the heart of confidence 
 and valour ! 
 
 He reached the room without any 
 important interruption. Often had he 
 approached its door with a light step, 
 and a heart that beat gaily with joy 
 and expectation. It was here that Ma- 
 tilda had first disclosed the extent of 
 the compassion with which she regarded 
 his -ardent attachment ; and, ah ! it was 
 in this secluded room, chiefly devoted 
 to the uses of Matilda, that she had con- 
 sented, with tears of fondness and ap- 
 prehension, to calm the fears which 
 
 racked
 
 142 AN OLD FAMILY LEGEND, 
 
 racked his bosom on his departure for the 
 French wars, and to unite her fate with 
 his by all the solemn ties which religious 
 protestations could impart. He never 
 approached the door-way without be* 
 holding, in the vivid imagery of fancy, 
 her look and attitude at that transporting 
 moment. He saw the glowing blush, of 
 exquisite hue, with which she presented 
 him her hand ; and felt again the timid 
 half-mournful throbs of her bosom as he 
 strained her in his arms, and implored a 
 blessing, on the self-woven bands with 
 which affection was about to entwinte 
 their fates. 
 
 He now cautiously entered this room, 
 so interesting to remembrance, and so 
 dear to his feelings ; but Matilda ^^^as not 
 there. He listened, but all was silent in 
 the adjoining passage and chambers. 
 
 There
 
 AN OLD FAMILY LEGEND. 143 
 
 There was a certain nook in the obscure 
 corner of a book-shelf, high on the side 
 of the room, in which Matilda sometimes 
 deposited a letter, when an interview was 
 unattainable, and Cuthbert there placed 
 his reply. Thither he now resorted, and 
 found, with exquisite pleasure, a billet 
 deposited beneath a bouquet of rose and 
 myrtle. Eagerly he grasped both these 
 emblems of tenderness and attention. 
 Convinced of the imprudence of delay, 
 while so many interlopers pervaded every 
 avenue of the castle, he stopped not to 
 examine the contents of the letter, but, 
 with his pencil, hastily wrote a line ex- 
 pressive of the fears which tormented his 
 breast. *' Remeniber the claims of a hus- 
 hand, who lives hut in your attachment/' 
 He had scarcely folded this scroll, and 
 placed it in the secret corner of the 
 
 ' shelf.
 
 IM AN OLD FAMILY LEGEND. 
 
 shelf, when a footstep sounded, as if that 
 of a person approaching the book-room 
 through the gallery. It could not be 
 Matilda, and he knew not how to with- 
 draw unperceived. If his confusion at 
 this moment were great, how much was 
 it increased when the door was thrown 
 widely open, and the earl entered ! At 
 the instant he thought annihilation would 
 have been a blessing. 
 
 The earl started; '' Cuthbert here!'* 
 exclaimed he. 
 
 '' The noise, my lord," stammered 
 Cuthbert, *' the festive gaiety of the 
 galleries, ill suiting my present reflec- 
 tions, drove me hither for quiet and me- 
 ditation.** 
 
 The earl pondered awhile with a con- 
 tracted brow. Then he turned from all 
 thoughts of present inquiry, and said, 
 
 '' Cuthbert,
 
 AN OLD FAMILY LEGEND. 14 5 
 
 '' Cuthbert^ little sleep has visited my 
 eyes to-night, and yet cannot I goJo 
 rest when evening again closes, till 
 I have held eome important converse 
 with you. When the king has departed 
 \o his chamber, repair to me in the 
 closet adjoining my apartment. Knock 
 twice — but not loudly, and I will admit 
 you.'* 
 
 ." I shall attend your lordship's direc- 
 tions/' answered Cuthbert. 
 
 *' And, hark you !" said the earl, as 
 Cuthbert was gladly quitting his presence. 
 *' Conquer the paleness of your cheek, 
 and call smiles to your lip, during the 
 tawdry gaieties of the day. The eyes, of 
 men are quick and piercing. I know 
 and feel it ! 1 could discover a secret, 
 on the instant, by the mute contraction 
 of a brow. — Shut out men's observation 
 
 VOL. I. H then ;
 
 146 AN OLD FAMILY LEGEND. 
 
 then ; and let us smile where there is no 
 jest. We may smile/' (and he sighed 
 deeply) " let thd heart be of what com- 
 plexion it will.** 
 
 When Cuthbert left the room, earl 
 Rowland threw himself on a seat, buried 
 in meditation. But he was not long the 
 prey of solitary thought, for soon the 
 usher hastened to inform him that the 
 king was about to quit his apartment. 
 The earl, accordingly, attended by the 
 principal officers of the household, waited 
 on the wish of the monarch, and con- 
 ducted him, with much state and reve- 
 rence, to the chamber of audience. Thi- 
 ther the lady Gilibert and Matilda shortly 
 repaired, and much gay converse and 
 courtly compliment passed between the 
 merry nobles and the ladies of the castle. 
 It had been settled, on the preceding 
 
 evening.
 
 AN OLD FAMILY LEGEND. 147 
 
 evening, that the early part of this day 
 should be spent in the open field, with 
 hound and hawk, amid such manly 
 sports as formed the chief delight of 
 Henry's court, when neither war nor ten- 
 derness demanded the tribute of a supe- 
 rior homage. Each reveller accordingly 
 appeared in a suit of Kendal green, with 
 his bugle suspended by a silken baldrick. 
 The lovely Matilda too was clad as a 
 liun tress, and prepared, in obedience to 
 the desire of her father, to join in the 
 ^ay but boisterous amusement of the 
 hour. Her suit of light green was grace- 
 fully fitted to her taper form ; her hat, 
 surmounted by a plume of green and 
 black feathers, was fastened over the fore- 
 head by a diamond button ; while, th^ 
 light tresses of her hair flowed dowrt her 
 ba^k in InxurtoiiS profusion. She looked, 
 H 2 as
 
 ifS AN OLD FAMILY LEGEND. 
 
 as she timidly mounted her palfrey, like 
 the goddess of an enchanted woodland, 
 issuing forth to awaken the morn, and 
 to collect'her fairy bands with a magical 
 charm. 
 
 The parks, contiguous to Waltham cas- 
 tle, were extensive, and well stored with 
 various sorts of game. The hart was the 
 present object of pursuit; and one was 
 speedily scented by the keen-nosed blood- 
 hound, while feeding on the sweet short 
 grass, amidst a clump of forest trees. 
 The huntsman wound his horn ; the royal 
 party blew an echo to the joyous strain ; 
 the hart broke cover, and the chace com- 
 menced. Many were the subtleties prac- 
 tised by the harassed animal, but all with- 
 out success. He plunged into the eddy^ 
 ing stream of the Sedway, and buried, 
 beneath the waters, the whole of his body, 
 
 except
 
 AN OLD FAMILY LEGEND. 149 
 
 except just so much of the nose as was 
 necessary for the purpose of respiration ; 
 he doubled and crossed, through a laby- 
 rinth of intersections, on a hard well- 
 trodden road ; and rousing an uncon- 
 scious herd which bronzed amid extensive 
 woodlands, he entered the thickest of the 
 throng, and pretended carelessly to feed 
 with them, till he believed the scents so 
 intermingled as to defy the cunning ma* 
 lice of his pursuers. 
 
 But the ardour and experience of the 
 followers were too mighty for all his 
 evasions. They drove him to a plain ; 
 the huntsman blew a recheat, and the 
 staunch hound^ pressed, with accumu- 
 lated vigour, on the terrified fugitive. 
 Now the utmost strength of the hart be- 
 gan to fail. His altered pace betrayed 
 the growing stiffness of his joints; his 
 B 3 mouth
 
 iiiO AN OLD FAMILV I>EGP.KD. 
 
 mouth became black and dry, and hia 
 tongue hung drooping down beyond his 
 lips. With a last exertion of power, he 
 gained the edge of those woodlands in 
 "Which he had so often Urcwl 2. shelter 
 from the scorching sun, or the piercing 
 blast of winter; and placing himself 
 against a tall and venerable tree, prepared 
 at least to die with grandeur, although he 
 had sought to preserve a harmless life by 
 flight. Here he kept the dogs, though 
 in the utmost heat and vigour of their 
 fury^ long at reverential bay. One he 
 laid dead at his blistered feet, and several 
 he sent limping back to their masters 
 with fractured bones or lacerated sides. 
 He fought with despair, for his situation 
 allowed no room for hope. Hound after 
 hound pressed to the attack. Pierced 
 with a hundred teeth^ he fell prostrate 
 
 anion GT
 
 AN OLD FAMILY LEGEND. 151 
 
 among his foes, and as the huntsmen press 
 through the pack to secure him from far- 
 ther violence, lest the delicacy of their 
 banquet should be marred, he looks up 
 piteously, incapable of resistance, and big 
 tears chase each other down his nose while 
 he groans forth his last ano^uished breath. 
 
 Now the huntsmen h\o\^ a double mort, 
 and all sound a recheat in consort. Then 
 a general "whoop !** rends the sky, the 
 echoes of which, through vale and wood- 
 land, complete the triumph of these most 
 valorous assailants. 
 
 A part of the ceremony remained to be 
 fulfilled, which must strike the modern 
 reader with surprise and disgust. A dag- 
 ger was presented to Matilda by the king, 
 with which she (as the highest possible 
 honour) was requested to cut the hart's 
 throat ! Matilda knew the custom, 
 K 4 though
 
 \d2 AN OLD FAMILY LEGEND. 
 
 though her feelings revolted from the 
 observance of it. She turned aside her 
 head, while she lightly drew the blade 
 across the velvet skin of the fallen deer; 
 but a touch, so tender and transient, drew 
 forth no blood, and less scrupulous hands 
 completed the sylvan sacrifice. 
 
 The whole party now prepared to re- 
 turn to the castle; but first the king in- 
 sisted on every sporting form receiving 
 due attention. The leasing accordingly 
 was put ill practice, and much was the 
 jocular sovereign diverted with the gro- 
 tesque contortions of those who were 
 honoured with the gift of ten pounds and 
 a purse* 
 
 ..* The leasing was a punishment inflicted on those 
 who mistook a terra ot" art, or hallooed the wrong deer. 
 The ten pounds were ten stripes on the back ; and fhe 
 purse an eleventh stripe, which exceeded the rest in 
 severity.
 
 AN OLD FAMILY LEGEND. 153 
 
 While this gay party inhaled the fresh 
 breezes of the park^ and revelled in all 
 the joys which rural sport and healthful 
 exercise could impart, Cuthbert remained 
 at home, the prey of inexpressible an- 
 guish and apprehension. On retiring to 
 his own apartment, he hastily unsealed 
 the letter left for him on the spot conse- 
 crated to his correspondence with Ma- 
 tilda. He expected to read the softest 
 assurances which affection and simplicity 
 could convey, mingled with tender ex- 
 pressions of regret for the long hours of 
 separation whiph they were now so pain- 
 fully doomed to experience. He ex- 
 pected these, for he thought it was Ma- 
 tilda's billet that he was about to read. 
 How great then v/ere his surprise and 
 consternation to behold these words 
 written by an unknown pen ! — 
 
 H 5 '^ Start
 
 154 AN OLD FAMILY LtGEN[>. 
 
 '* Start not, rash boy 1 to find a scor- 
 pion beneath the flowers placed for you 
 by a thoughtless and half-ruined hand. 
 Your intercourse is discovered. Return 
 to honour, or tremble for the result ! 
 Yqu yet may quit the castle, without en- 
 tailing destruction on the hopes of your 
 benefactor. Duty calls : fly, then, guilty 
 youth I and never return till the object 
 of your base addresses is placed beyond 
 danger, by listening to the wishes of her 
 father. Fly, and you may yet avoid ruin ; 
 stay, and embrace it for your sworn mis- 
 tress/' 
 
 This scroll dropped from the hand of 
 Guthbert long ere he had examined the 
 whole of the contents; and it was some 
 time before h« could sufficiently recover 
 from that stagnation of sense which the 
 first lines produced^ to resume an investi- 
 
 gation>
 
 AN OJLI> FAMILT IEGEN]>. 155* 
 
 gation, and dkcorer the extent of the 
 danger with which he was threatened. 
 Nor could a knowledge of the whole 
 contents impart a single hint, of strength 
 and probability^ to guide him through 
 the labyrmth of conjecture by which he 
 Vfas assailed. One truth alone was evi- 
 dent — his clandestine interchanges with 
 Matilda were no longer secret ; and ruin, 
 misery, despair, must be the conse- 
 quences* After ^he first minutes of dis-^ 
 may, he gave loose to frenzied ebullitions 
 ,»of rage ansd vexatiom. He wildly drew 
 his sword, and muttered incoherent de- 
 munciations of pointless vengeance; then 
 ke threw himself prostrate on the ground^ 
 and tore in distraction, whole flowing 
 locks of hair from his burninsf head. 
 ''Matilda is lost!'* he cried, '*lost fof 
 H 6 ever !
 
 15G AN OLD FAMILY LEGEND. 
 
 ever ! and I have nothing now to do but 
 die/' 
 
 Lovers, however, like cowards, " die 
 many times** before they really encoun- 
 ter death ; and there was no circumstance 
 more distant from the intention of Cuth- 
 bert than to surrender himself an obedient 
 victim to the tameness of despair. He 
 started from the ground, he sheathed his 
 sword, and took from his bosom a locket 
 v/hich enclosed some of Matilda's hair. 
 *' No !** said he, *' all the world in arms 
 should not tear you from my heart ! Fly 
 from the castle ! forsake my affianced 
 "wife ! Oh monstrous thought ! Not 
 tyranny itself could wish to perpetrate 
 so infernal a purpose. Though the walls 
 fell in ruins around me, still I would 
 cTasp Matilda amid the relics^ and boldly 
 
 say.
 
 AN OLD FAMILY LEGEND. 157 
 
 say, '^ She is my bride ! — accursed and 
 sacrilegious is the hand that strives to 
 part us/' 
 
 Loud talking is observed to lull the 
 fears of the timorous; possibly it like- 
 wise upholds the purpose of the doubt- 
 ful and distressed. Such, at least, ap- 
 peared its effect on Cuthbert ; for after 
 venting these exalted sentiments in a loud 
 and heroic tone, he paced the room with 
 warm pulsations of self-satisfaction^ and 
 felt equal, in the fervour of the moment, 
 to a conflict with myriads in the cause of 
 love and Matilda. When he attained 
 composure to reflect, with some resem- 
 blance of coolness, on the cau'se of his 
 agitation, he endeavoured to console 
 himself by suppositions as to the proba- 
 bility of father Laurence having removed 
 the letter written by Matilda^, and substi- 
 
 tnted
 
 158 AN OLD FAMILY LEGEND* 
 
 tuted the harsh and threatening^ scroll 
 which occiapied its place. The father 
 had certainly penetrated the secret of 
 Cwthbert's attachment;, and ha<l avowed 
 the inflexible perseverance with which he 
 observed his footsteps. But he could 
 nO^ readily apprehend tbe possibility of 
 father Laurenecwho scarcely ever quitted 
 the walls of the adjoining rnorvastery, and 
 who ha^d never been seen to enter the 
 portals of the castle, possessing a know- 
 ledge of the apartijients irsed by Ma* 
 tilda ; an-d still less could he, without 
 manifest self-delusion, presume th^t it 
 was likely the recluse priest biid continual 
 access to the i^nterior of that residence 
 whicbi he appeared fastidiously to avoid* 
 Bmi^ love amd hope a^e the twim-born 
 offspring of the bosom; and Culhbert 
 .laboured, naosit sedulously, to convinee 
 6 himself
 
 AN OhX> FAMILY L?<5END. 15^ 
 
 himself against the decision of his better 
 judgment, t\\^t father Laurence was in- 
 deed the writer qf the mysterious threats, 
 $nd that his connexion with Matilda was 
 still unknown to those who possessed "^ 
 power to interdict the consug[)m3tion of 
 his wishes. Under the effect of this flat- 
 tering supposition^ he determined to seek 
 the holy father, to disclose to him those 
 sacred vows by which the hands of Ma- 
 tilda and himself were consecrated, and 
 to beseech him, in return, to confess the 
 well-meant zeal which had induced him 
 to venture oa an exchange of the letters. 
 But first> while the family were en- 
 gaged in the park, and all was; stijl in the 
 halls, he cautiously sought Matilda's 
 book-room, and with tremulous eager- 
 nesSj snatched the pencilled line he had 
 deposited when he removed tlaue- fatal leU 
 
 ttr.
 
 100 A N OLfl F AM 1 L Y LEG KN D . 
 
 ter. The wrifing was still there, but 
 Giithbert started to find that the paper 
 was torn into two pieces ! While he 
 wildly gazed on this proof of his bold 
 and imprudent claim to the right of a 
 husband, having been inspected by his se~ 
 cret enem y^ trumpets sounded in the park, 
 and a discharge of artillery took place 
 from the castle. The earl and his royal 
 guest were returned ! and Cuthbert fled 
 from Matilda's room, with the light step 
 and scared eye of conscious impropriety. 
 He had not long regained his own 
 apartment, when he heard several persons 
 call loudly on his name. He started at the 
 sound, and almost fancied the exclama- 
 tions connected with the discovery of his 
 intercourse with Matilda. But soon a 
 page hastily entered his apartment, and 
 informed him that tlie banquetters were 
 
 already
 
 AN OLD rAMILY LEGEND. 161 
 
 already seated in the hall, and the music 
 sounding a prelude to revelry. ''Hasten 
 then. Sir Cuthbert/' cried the page ; 
 ''the earl marvels at your delay; and 
 even the royal Henry has noticed the ab- 
 sence of the new-made kni«;ht. Mv lord 
 is about to present to the sovereign the 
 youthful baron of Chesterdale, and fame 
 loudly says that he is to present him as 
 the intended husband of the fair Matilda. 
 Hasten then, Sir Cuthbert ! or the earl 
 may deem your tardiness unfriendly.** 
 
 The intelligence and suggestion con- 
 tained in this speech, efTcctually roused 
 Cuthbert from the lethargy of affliction 
 into which he had sunk; and hedismissed^ 
 the page with an assurance of his imme- 
 diate attendance in the hall. To that 
 festive spot, after the lapse of a few mi. 
 nutes, in which hq vainly endeavoured to, 
 
 assum.e
 
 assume the disguise of indifTerence and 
 composure, he accordingly repaired. 
 
 IV2 found the whole party assembled; 
 and as he entered the music ceased,\for 
 at that moment, earl Rowland made a sig- 
 nal of silence, and advanced towards the 
 footstool of Fenry, for the purpose of 
 introducing the baron of Chesterdale, 
 who had only arrived at Waltham castle 
 within the last half hour, attended by a 
 numerous and gallant retinue. The at- 
 tention of the nobles was fortunately too 
 entirely directed towards the sovereign, 
 for the emotion of Cuthbert to attract 
 notice; and he speedily attained suffi- 
 cient self-command to approach the 
 neighbourhood of the king with such an 
 appearance of serenity as few besides 
 those interested in piercing the secrcts of 
 his bosom were likely to detect. He 
 
 anxiously
 
 AN OLD FAMILY LEGEND. 163 
 
 anxiously endeavoured to gain a spot 
 from which he could hear the conversa- 
 tion that passed on the introduction of 
 the baron ; but as the nobles had not yet 
 taken their seats, he found this purpose 
 unattainable; while he was yet at some 
 distance from the king, earl Rowland 
 bowed, and presented his guest to the ob- 
 servation of Henry. 
 
 When the baron rose, (for no person 
 ventured to address this lofty monarch 
 without kneeling until commanded to 
 Hse ) earl Rowland bent forward and spoke 
 to the king at some length, adverting to 
 the baron of Chesterdale at different pe- 
 riods of his discourse. The ready fears 
 of Cuthbert did not fail to interpret this 
 unknown speech as a declaration of the 
 carJ-8 intentions eoncerning a family al- 
 liance ; and the complicated agony of his, 
 
 feelings
 
 164 AN OLD FAMITA' LrCEND. 
 
 feelings suBpa^cs description. Henry 
 snnilecl ; and Cuthbert believed it a smile 
 of approvance. But in the next minute 
 Henry frowned ; and then Cuthbert was 
 Subject to apprehensions still more pain- 
 full, for he imagined thatthe king was. ac* 
 tuated by sinister motives of private in- 
 clination to d'scourage the projected 
 imion. At length Henry listened with- 
 the seeming vacancy of indiiference to 
 the continued addresses of the earl and 
 baron, and nodded his head as a signal 
 for th-em to retire; and this placidity 
 threw Cuthbert into utter despair,.for he 
 believed the matter now so completely 
 arranged aS' to require no farther argu- 
 i^ient or consideration. Such is the ten- 
 dency to self-torment, inseparable from 
 that passion which is emphatically deno- 
 minated tender f 
 
 When
 
 AN OLD FAMILY LE<JEND. 165 
 
 'When the baron withdrew, earl Row- 
 land conducted him to the lady Gilibcrt 
 and Matilda, and Ciithbert was doomed to 
 see the -gaudy young noble take a seat 
 between those ladies. At that moment 
 his eye met Matilda's, and she coloured 
 deeply. It was the first time that her 
 blush had ever conveyed misery to his 
 breast. He now supposed it to betray 
 consciousness of the delicacy of her si- 
 tuation, and he cursed the hour that 
 ushered him to existence. 
 
 But the minstrels strike a flourish! 
 The usher enters at the head of the -ser- 
 ving-men. The board is covered, and 
 the chaplains implore God's blessing on 
 the sumptuous viands. Six pages, of 
 noble bearing, assist lord Waltham and 
 Cuthbert in furnishing the table of the 
 king. Each tastes a morsel from the sil- 
 ver
 
 1G(5 AN OLD FAMll^Y LEGEND. 
 
 ver dish allotted to his charge, and the 
 monarch condescends to commence the 
 banquet. 
 
 High was the mirth, and goi'geoHS' w6'?e 
 the banners which waved over the scene 
 of revelry ! Never was a day more gaily 
 spent at Waltham than this. Long did 
 the vassals, when assembled at wake or 
 holy festival;, taFk of thesp^cndixl fare^, fTi^ 
 rare devices, and costly d'^cdrationS ; and 
 many a saying of the king, or sportive' 
 action of his courtiers, deseei^ded ih trd^ 
 ditionary legend, through successive ge- 
 nerations of the neighbourVnfg yeornen. 
 
 It would not be easy to depicture the 
 sensations of Cuthbert during the tedious 
 progress of the banquet. He was'placed, 
 as before, in attendance on the rriagnifi- 
 cent Wolsey ; and the cardinal, who^e at- 
 tention was possibly awakened by the 
 
 favour
 
 AN OLD FAMILY LEGEND. 167 
 
 favour with which Cuthbert had been re- 
 ceived by the king, directed much, con- 
 versation to his knightly servitor. No 
 man was more thoroughly versed than 
 • Wolsey in those winning graces by which 
 the elevated attract the partiality of the 
 humble. Full aptly could he frame his 
 lip to the most gracious of the courtier's 
 smiles; and the voice which spoke in 
 thunder to rivalry or presumption^ 
 " whistled in the sound/' it was so soft 
 and encouraging when any favourite pur- 
 pose was to be achieved by gentleness. 
 He now wished to fathom the genius of 
 his new acquaintance^, and it was fortu- 
 nate for Cuthbert that a compulsory at- 
 tention to this illustrious guest prevented 
 his beholding all those blandishments 
 with which his presumed rival endea- 
 voured to win the favour of the affianced 
 
 Matilda,
 
 168 AN OLD FAMILY LEGEND. 
 
 Matilda. Still he saw enough to rack his 
 bosom ; and had the young lord been 
 conscious of the pangs which his gal- 
 lantry inflicted, and aware of the tie which 
 rendered those pangs important, perhaps 
 even a youthful rival might have shud- 
 dered at the picture. 
 
 With the approbation of the king, a 
 gallery had been prepared for the purpose 
 of dancing; and when the goblet had, 
 for a season, been freely circulated, and 
 mirth made a pause from fulness of enjoy- x 
 ment, the earl led the way, and the royal 
 party followed to the spot occupied by 
 that which adds brilliancy to the crowns 
 of monarchs, and to which even the pos- 
 sessors of royalty are proud to pay ho- 
 
 mage — female beauty. 
 
 CHAP.
 
 AN OLD FAMILY LECENB. 169 
 
 CHAP. VIIL 
 
 The lofty gallery to which the banquet- 
 ters HOW repaired was lighted by nume- 
 rous cressets, and was hung throughout 
 with gorgeous tapestry. Here were seen, 
 most alarmingly executed by the fair 
 hands of religious workmen, the seven 
 Champions of Christendom, each in Her- 
 culean proportions, and terror of visage, 
 a match for a host of ordinary opponents. 
 Among these illustrious brethren were 
 placed, with no very evident propriety, 
 VOL. I. I the
 
 170 AN OLD FAMILY LECE.NB. 
 
 the virtuous Susannah, and her anti- 
 <^iated tempters ; the execrable Herod, 
 the admired Constantine and his miracu- 
 loiAS cross; holy Anthony, surrounded 
 by devils ; and Orpheus, encompassed by 
 dancing trees. Various dainty devices, 
 v^hi(^ no man could with justice accuse 
 of breaking that sacred commandment, 
 under the influence of which painters and 
 poets so often take the liberty of foisting 
 new creations on the world as the legiti- 
 mate offspring of the pencil or the pen, 
 were likewise to be viewed, mingled to- 
 gether with fantastic freedom. But the 
 most conspicuous, and assuredly the most 
 curious part of the emblazoned tapestry, 
 consisted of a portraiture of St. John, 
 armed with whip and spur, in high pur- 
 suit of that youthful apostate from Chris- 
 tianity,
 
 AN OLD FAMILY LEGEND. IT I 
 
 tianity, \vhom he restored to the bosom 
 of holy mother church by dint of supe- 
 rior horsemanship. 
 
 At the upper end of the gallery was 
 placed a canopy of crimson velvety edged 
 with gold, and thither earl Rowland led 
 the sovereign, while those of the nobles 
 who were not engaged in immediate at- 
 tendance on the monarch paraded the il- 
 luminated gallery, and formed engage- 
 ments for the ensuing dance. Cuthbert 
 now attained a momentary leisure for re- 
 flection. He readily perceived the ne- 
 cessity of apprising Matilda of the novel 
 dangers by which their correspondence 
 was surrounded. But numberless cir- 
 cumstances united to render this commu- 
 nication difficult. That detested noble 
 whom Cuthbert too justly dreaded as a 
 rival, was unremitting in his attentions. 
 I 2 The
 
 172 AN OLD FAMILY LEGEND. 
 
 The lady Gilibert also was continually ob- 
 servant of Matilda's motions, and a throng 
 of gaudy lords, " the gayest of the gay,*' 
 followed her as a magnet, and seemed to 
 live only on the short sentences which 
 casually stole from her lips. The con- 
 science of Cuthbert likewise created ima- 
 ginary dangers. He figured his secret 
 enemy in every eye which glanced to- 
 wards Matilda, or which looked on him. 
 Beset thus with real and with fictitious 
 causes of apprehension, he experienced 
 every pang of suffering which it is in the 
 power of anxiety to impart. 
 
 In the reign of Henry, the purpose of 
 festivity could never be achieved without 
 the aid of wine. Indeed, throughout the 
 whole tenor of the middle ages, it was 
 morally impossible to actuate the mental 
 feelings through any other medium than 
 
 that
 
 AN OLD FAMILY LEGEND. 1/3 
 
 tliat of sensuality. So weak (to apply to 
 the spirit the term of Dr. Brown in re- 
 gard to the bodi/J was the principle o^ ex- 
 citaUlity in the mental constitution of 
 the personages of these periods. Wine, 
 from the purest grapes of Gascony, was 
 now circulated ip a huge silver chalice. 
 Each guest did honour to the cup ; and 
 the music, meanwhile, spread its boldest 
 notes to add zest and dignity to the sa- 
 crifice, for such the potation must assu- 
 redly be deemed; and a sacrifice to 
 no contemptible power; since the god 
 of domestic mirth was ever a deity of 
 prime consequence in the esteem of the 
 '' Defender of the Faith/' and the pious 
 nobles who formed the chief ornaments 
 of his polemic court. 
 
 Those bold strains of music which 
 
 sounded an incitement to each chivalric 
 
 I S toast,
 
 174 AN OLD FAMILY LECENU. 
 
 toast, at length softened, by gentle de- 
 grees, to the dulcet notes of love. The 
 clavicord, the virginals, and the harp, lent 
 emphasis to the choicest airs of Taverner 
 and Shepherd. The efifect was electric. 
 Each heart responded to the summons ; 
 and love, expectation, and joy, beamed 
 through every feature, except only those 
 ©f Cuthbert and Matilda. 
 
 But their solicitude and misery in- 
 creased in every minute. Preparations 
 for the dance v^ere now made in every 
 quarter, and the earl, approaching lord 
 Chesterdale and Matilda, took a hand of 
 each, and moved towards the king. It 
 was evident that he intended to present 
 them as chosen partners through the hour 
 of festivity ; and all that a lover, nearly 
 all that a husband can feel, was endured 
 by Cuthbert as he beheld the movement, 
 
 and
 
 AN OLD FAMILY LEGEND. 175 
 
 and saw Matilda thus publicly devoted to 
 the tenderness and attentions of a power- 
 ful rival. 
 
 While the party were yet approaching 
 the sovereign, and when they were not 
 many paces distant from the footstool of 
 royalty, a trumpet suddenly sounded 
 from the entrance of the gallery, and the 
 blast was so loud and imperative, that the 
 earl involuntarily paused, and looked to- 
 wards the doorway. Some persons en- 
 tered, wrapped in long brown mantles, 
 with masks over their faces, surmounted 
 by such homely caps as pilgrims w^ere 
 wont to wear. Each had a rosary sus- 
 pended from his neck, and a shell placed 
 in the lacing of his cap/* These un- 
 
 * In this romantic age it was far from unusual for 
 persons thus to enter, in disguise, the halls of festivity. 
 Henry was indeed so fond of the mysterious concealment 
 
 1 4 known.
 
 176 AN OLD FAMILY LEGEND. 
 
 known visitors moved in slow steps along 
 the gallery, and drew near to the king, 
 before whom they bowed thrice, in lowly 
 reverence, and their leader then knelt 
 before the monarch's seat, and uncover- 
 ing his face, presented some dispatches, 
 on which he again made a courtly token 
 of submission, and retired to a humble 
 distance. 
 
 The principal of this party was in fact 
 a messenger from Rome, and the letters 
 he bore were of dear interest to the pre- 
 sent projects of Henry. His companions 
 ^were nobles and knights of the court, 
 who had gladly attended him from Lon- 
 don^ on his search after the royal traveller, 
 
 of the mask, and so prone to intermingle pleasure with 
 business, that messengers of state were often admitted to 
 his presence in such fantastic habits as are here ascribed 
 to the unexpected visitors at Wahhani castle. 
 
 equally
 
 AN OLD FAMILY LEGEND. 177 
 
 equally anxious to present themselves in 
 association with the bearer of welcome 
 intelligence, and tosharethegaieties which 
 waited on the devious progress of their 
 master. 
 
 The entrance of this party unavoidably 
 caused a temporary interruption of the 
 festive purpose of the hour. Earl Row- 
 land replaced Matilda on her seat, and 
 advanced to the stranger knights to offer 
 them the welcome of his castle, and to 
 proffer such refreshments as it was to be 
 presumed they needed after a long and 
 weary travel. The earl was skilled in the 
 courteous blandishments of the chamber ; 
 apd many w^ere the compliments which 
 passed between him and the pilgrim visi- 
 tants, all of whom, save one, unmasked to 
 reply to the hospitable overtures of their 
 host. But one knight retained the covei^r^t 
 1 5 that
 
 178 AN OLD FAMILY LEGEND. 
 
 that concealed his visage, and bowed in 
 silence, though with courtesy, to the 
 frank and jovial address of the master of 
 the castle. This knight was of tall sta- 
 ture, but had little of grace in his demea- 
 nor. The earl spoke to him twice ; but 
 finding him bent on secresy and reserve, 
 he left him to his humour, and applied 
 himself gaily to those who were more 
 "willing to respond to the festivity of his 
 own mood. 
 
 This unknown knight, though he ap- 
 peared so chearless to the earl, was not 
 equally indifferent to the rest of the com- 
 pany assembled in the gallery. He mixed 
 among the ladies, and much praised the 
 \f\t of one, and the beauty of another. 
 But Matilda attracted his chief notice; 
 and to her he addressed the warmest terms 
 of admiration and applause. He locked^ 
 
 and
 
 AN OLD FAMILY LEGEND* 179^ 
 
 and her form rivetted his attention. She 
 spoke, and he thought that till then he 
 had never heard the voice of melody. 
 The novelty of his disguise, and the ro- 
 mantic mysteriousness with which the 
 party had entered, awakened the curio- 
 sity of Matilda ; and she conversed with 
 a gaiety and unreserve which all the 
 baron of Chesterdale's efforts had failed 
 to elicit. 
 
 The knight was charmed, and, as an air 
 of respect was mingled with fhe most 
 florid terjms of his approbation, Matilda 
 continued to listen, without displeasure, 
 and even with a degree of interest, to his 
 remarks, until theking signified it to be his 
 high and mighty pleasure that each party 
 should resign its private speculations, 
 and the dance commence. It was then 
 that the stranger, taking Matilda's hand, 
 X 6 fervently
 
 iSO AN OLD FAMILY LEGEND*- 
 
 fervently requested her to name him as 
 her partner. The unexpected boldness 
 of the request prevented her from ma- 
 king an immediate reply. The stranger 
 took advantage of these moments of sur- 
 prise, and was leading her from her seat, 
 when lord Chesterdale interfered, and 
 the earl approached. '' My lord !" said 
 the stranger, addressing the latter, " I 
 pray it of you, as a boon^ that you will 
 pardon my presumption ! I have ven- 
 tured to solicit the honour of dancing 
 wiih vour lovely daughter. Unless the 
 lady condemn T!\Q to despair, let me hope 
 that my lord of Walthall will not deny 
 me the possession of so much happiness.*' 
 " Excuse me, sir knight !" replied the 
 earl, with a haughty smile. " The lady 
 Matilda is provided with a partner; and 
 were she not (pardon the seeming harsh- 
 ness
 
 AN OLD FAMILY LEGEND. 181 
 
 ness of my words), it is not to a masked 
 cavalier that I should consign the guar- 
 dianship of her hand/* 
 
 "You speak justly^ my lord!" re- 
 turned the knight " Nor would I wish 
 to receive the deposit in disguise. Be- 
 hold me, then ! and deny not the favour 
 I request." 
 
 So saying, he withdrew his mask, and 
 the earl started violently backwards. 
 " Sir Everard Anhault here 1" exclaimed 
 he, with seeming trepidation. " How 
 comes — I thought that sir Everard had 
 still sojourned in a foreign clime ?" 
 
 " It is indeed sir Everard that you be- 
 hold !" returned the knight. " And 
 though my lineage be not lofty; though,'* 
 (here he spoke in an under-tone) 
 " though I was the distant relative of 
 humble Ansclm, yet let me hope that my 
 6 lord
 
 182 AN OLD FAMILY LEGEND. 
 
 lord of Waltham will not refuse me rh<? 
 hand of his fair daughter through one 
 short fleeting hour of revelry." 
 
 '' It must not be, sir knight !*' ex- 
 claimed the earl, hi a hurried accent; 
 '' it must not be ! — and yet, believe me, 
 kind. sir Everard ! I am full glad to see 
 you within my ramparts. Reign in my 
 halls; command my vassals ; but the lady- 
 Matilda is engaged for, this dance, and 
 for all that follow it." 
 
 Thus speaking, the earl placed Ma?- 
 tilda's hand in that of lord Chesterdale, 
 and was leading her to the upper end af 
 the gallery, when sir Everard seized him 
 by the arm, and exclaimed, '' Lord Wal- 
 tham, my purpose must not be gainsaid! 
 It is fortunate that we are unobserved. 
 Retire with me for a single minute be- 
 neath the shelter of yonder awning, I 
 
 have
 
 AN OLD FAMILY LEGEND. 13S 
 
 have >vords for your secret ear^ and sights 
 fitting for no eye, save your own." 
 
 From whatever mysterious source the 
 power of sir Everard was derived, he 
 immediately prevailed ; and the earl ac- 
 companied him with haste, though with 
 evident reluctance, to that private covert 
 which sir Everard had named. When 
 there, the knight addressed some few 
 words to his companion^ in a low but 
 earnest tone ; and Matilda did not fail 
 to note the malicious triumph which 
 beamed through his dark eyes while he 
 spoke. He then took, witii caution, a 
 packet from his bosom, and pointed the 
 EarPs notice to the hand-writing of the 
 signature. Earl Rowland's countenance 
 assumed the livid hue of death, as he 
 gazed on the packet. He staggered to a 
 seat, and a convulsive emotion agitated 
 
 his
 
 184 AN OLD FAMILY LEGEND. 
 
 his features. Sir Everard hastily replaced 
 the packet in his breast, and v»ith a 
 ghastly smile., tendered the earl his hand, 
 Rowland seized it with frantic eagerness ; 
 and starting up, motioned towards Ma- 
 tilda. As they approached, sir Everard 
 -whispered in an earnest manner, " Be 
 collected ! We were unobserved ; and 
 Anhault is devoted to the house of 
 Waltham.'' 
 
 The earl made no reply, but addressing 
 the baron of Chesterdale, he said, with 
 assumed softness and ill -counterfeited 
 tranquillity, " My gracious lord of Ches- 
 terdale ! behold in this stranger- knight, 
 so mysteriously disguised, and so ambi- 
 ]goous in his overtures, the old and valued 
 friend of many of my past adventures, 
 I rest assured that my kind lord will not 
 murmur at resigning, through one short 
 
 dance.
 
 AN OLD FAMILY LEGEND. 1S5 
 
 dance, the care of Matilda to the antient 
 companion of her father,'* 
 
 " The earl of Waltham," returned the 
 young lord, with high disdain, " is the 
 most fitting judge of the man qualified 
 for attendance on his daughter. But it 
 must be from the lady's lips that I receive 
 my dismissal/' 
 
 '' Dismissal, my lord ?*' exclaimed the 
 earl. 
 
 At that moment the music sounded. 
 The dancers advanced ; and sir Everard 
 (who had thrown aside his pilgrim's 
 cloak, and displayed all the due accou- 
 trements of gallantry and knighthood) 
 conducted his partner to the dance, and 
 led her down in triumph to the gayest 
 measure df the minstrelsy. 
 
 All this had passed with so much ra- 
 pidity and confusion, that Matilda was 
 
 merely
 
 ISO AN OLD FAMILY LEGEND. 
 
 merely a tacit actress in the scene. Whenr 
 a pause in the evolutions of the dance 
 allowed time for reflection, she looked 
 with amazement, aixl with some portion 
 of dismay, on the events which had oc- 
 curred. Her partner she likewise regard- 
 ed with sentiments of surprise and appre- 
 hension. Sir Everard did not appear 
 more than forty years of age, though the 
 earl had termed him the friend of his 
 youth, and the companion of long-past 
 adventures. His complexion was sallow, 
 his nose long and hooked, his eyes black, 
 and cast to the ground, when he was not 
 employed in conversation, or attracted 
 by some powerful object ; his forehead 
 was high, and seemed wrinkled by deep 
 thought; strong curls of black hair shaded 
 his temples, and added much to the 
 gloomy and disconsolate character of his^ 
 
 countenance.
 
 AN OLD FAMILY LEGEND* 1^7 
 
 countenance. It was a face that the spec- 
 tator looked on with dread and displea- 
 sure, yet was it assuredly handsome ; and 
 when sir Everard smiled, it was evident 
 that he had witnessed the suavity of courts, 
 and was acquainted with the art of ren- 
 dering that agreeable on the lip which 
 was malicious and frightful in the undis- 
 guised sincerity of the bosom. 
 
 In every minute Matilda was less pleased 
 with the partner to whom so strange a 
 combination of circumstances had de- 
 voted her, and she shuddered with sur- 
 prise when she remembered the astonish- 
 ing power which such an ambiguous and 
 appalling description of person had at- 
 tained over the inclinations of her father. 
 Her eye often glanced towards Cuthbert, 
 who remained, unoccupied in the dance, 
 in attendance on the cai'dinal. She noted 
 
 the
 
 ISS AN OLD FAMILY LEGEND. 
 
 the clouded despondency of his Lrow^ 
 and plainly read the fluctuating emotions 
 of his heart in each vicissitude of his ex- 
 pressive countenance. Many a sigh did 
 she dedicate to reflections on that per- 
 verseness of fate which prevented him 
 from openly claiming her hand, and lead- 
 ing her in the steps of joy and love, 
 through the maze:^ of the dance which he 
 was so truly formed to embellish. She 
 contrasted his manly tenderness and na- 
 tive dignity with the insinuative art and 
 empty haughtiness of the being to whom 
 she was united by the temporary etiquette 
 of the hour, and imbibed a fresh senti- 
 ment of esteem from a conviction of 
 Cuthbert*s superiority. By degrees she 
 became the prey of an anxious melan- 
 choly, which all the gauds of revelry and 
 «ll the solicitude of friendship were una- 
 ble
 
 AN OLD FAMILY LEGEND. 189 
 
 ble to divert, while Cuthbert's lip was si- 
 lent, and while she was conscious that his 
 heart was plunged in comfortless distress. 
 Comfortless indeed was the grief of her 
 affianced lover. A momentary gleam of 
 hope and consolation had arisen, when 
 he found that the baron of Chesterdale 
 was supplanted by a knight whose de- 
 portment at first banished the fear of any 
 pretensions to rivalry and love. But the 
 jealous mind flies from point to point, 
 
 ' •* The object still changing, 
 The sympathy true;" 
 
 and Cuthbert soon removed all his dist 
 taste and apprehensions from the baron 
 to sir Everard, and seemed to take party 
 with lord Chesterdale in resentment 
 of the assumptions of this obtrusive 
 stranger. 
 
 But
 
 IDO A'^ OLD FAMILY LEGEND. 
 
 But Cuthbert had a deep cause fof 
 anxiety, of a nature foreign to that 
 created by the circumstances of the pas^ 
 sing moment. The discovery of his cor- 
 respondence with Matilda, which so fa- 
 tally threatened to destroy the very root 
 of every hope respecting future happi- 
 ness, appeared to him in each succeeding 
 minute of reflection, fraught with fresh 
 tlangers for Matilda, and more poignant 
 misery for himself. He viewed, with an 
 agony of apprehension, the possibility of 
 Matilda placing a second letter on the 
 accustomed spot, while ignorant of the 
 existence of an enemy by whom her 
 communication would be intercepted or 
 examined; and he determined to encoun- 
 ter all hazards, to brave all extremities, 
 rather than expose her delicacy and se- 
 curity to so distressing a predicament. 
 
 In
 
 AN OLD FAMILY LEGEND. 19i 
 
 In pursuance of this resolution^ he ea- 
 gerly watched an opportunity, in the in- 
 tervals of the dance, for addressing her in 
 private. But of such an opportunity he 
 almost despaired to gain possession. 
 Yet, a few short sentences would be suf- 
 ficient for his purpose, for he now formed 
 a plan which, though romantic and ha- 
 zardous, the exigency of their situation 
 appeared to render necessary, and which 
 he felt assured that Matiida had both con- 
 fidence and fortitv ve to assist in execut- 
 ing. This Wris no other than the achieve- 
 ment of a meeting on a retired and sa- 
 cred spot, when all the family were bu- 
 ried in slumber, and the galleries wrapped 
 in obscurity and gloom. Such an inter- 
 view was the more difficult, as he was to 
 attend in the chamber of the earl at dead 
 midnight ; yet, so great was the peril of 
 
 su fieri ng
 
 192 AN OLD FAMILY LEGEND. 
 
 siifTering Matilda to remain uninformed 
 of the discovery that had taken place, 
 and so extreme the agony with which he 
 contemplated a cessation of all corres- 
 pondence while she was beset with pre- 
 tenders to her favour, that he hastily de- 
 termined on the measure, though not 
 without many a bitter throb of self-exe- 
 cration, in consequence of the alarms 
 and trial to which his wishes were about 
 to subject her. 
 
 Fortune appeared, in»several shapes^ io 
 favour his projected enterprise. The 
 earl, who had been, more than once, 
 when the circumstances of the festival 
 permitted, engaged in deep converse 
 with sir Everard Anhault, beckoned on a 
 sudden to Cuthbert, and when the youth 
 advanced, the earl drew him aside, and 
 said„ with some agitation, '' Cuthbert ! 
 
 I ordered
 
 AN OLD FAMILY Ll^GEND. 19^ 
 
 i ordered you to meet me this night, in 
 the privacy of my closet. My mind is 
 altered. Sleep to-night, good youth 1 
 (for sleep refuses not his soothing gar- 
 land to the unvvrinkled brow of your 
 happy age ! ) another time we will hold 
 our meeting. Sleep, good Cuthbert 1 
 and if you pray, mention my name in 
 your bland and pure orisons!" He 
 pressed his hand as he spoke, and Cuth- 
 bert bowed, solicitous to hide the accu- 
 sing blush that stained his cheek, and 
 withdrew. 
 
 It was shortly after this communication 
 of the earl that accident produced a fa- 
 vourable moment for Cuthbert to addres.§! 
 Matilda. A diamond, which had been 
 placed amid the ornaments of her hair, 
 fell to the ground, unperceived by her- 
 self and sir Kvernrd, as the knight led 
 
 VOL, I. K hicr
 
 $'D-i AN OLD FAMILY LEGEND. 
 
 Iicr fioin the dance. Cuthbert took up 
 the jewel. No person was immediately 
 at hand. '' My lady Matilda/' said he 
 aloud, '' has lost an ornament." His 
 voice met a ready welcome in the ear of 
 Matilda. Quitting hastily sir Everard, 
 before he was apprised of her intention, 
 she stepped back, and for a few transient 
 moments, Cuthbert might address hei* 
 with security. '^'Matilda!" said he, ear- 
 nestly, while he appeared to notice only 
 the diamond, and w^as supposed, by the 
 few who observed him, to be explaining 
 the manner in which he found the gem, 
 '•' an imperious fate demands that ^ve 
 meet alone before the dawn of another 
 day. Take courage ! Dear Matilda, are 
 vou not my betrothed wife? The ora- 
 tory, which contains a picture of the holy 
 Virgin, at the eastern corner of thb 
 
 painted
 
 An old family leg end. l^f^ 
 
 pitinted galicry, is not far from your 
 apartments. Ail will be profound at the 
 hour of one. Meet me there ! Your 
 happiness, and my life, depend on your 
 determination ! Shall I see you ?" 
 
 '-'Gracious God!" returned she, ''if 
 such be the necessity, can Cuthbert be- 
 lieve that I would hesitate ? I will be in 
 the oratory at the hour of one." 
 
 '' A thousand thanks 1 The moon-^ 
 beams will conduct you. May angels 
 guard your steps ! Adieu V* 
 
 There was not time for more. Sir 
 Everard drew near. The lady GiliberC 
 likewise advanced ; and Cuthbert spoke 
 something, he scarcely knew what, con- 
 cerning the diamond", as ii^ that had heew 
 the subject of his previous observations, 
 and returned to the side of V/olsey, who 
 was now leaning on the king's chair, and 
 
 K 2 uttering^
 
 196 AN OLD FA?vnz,Y LEGEKB. 
 
 Uttering prompt witticisms for the 
 amusement of his jocund master. 
 
 Supper was shortly served in the two- 
 spacious adjacent apartments; and after 
 supper^ a morality was performed. Al- 
 though this dramatic exhibition evinced 
 no great fertility ofgeniviS;, it was highly 
 applauded. Indeed, considering the lit- 
 tle time in which the piece was got ztp, a 
 keener critic than Henry might have rea- 
 dily found an excuse for quite as many 
 faults as it contained. But Henry, to do 
 him justice, was no ill-tempered or fasti- 
 dious observer of stage deficiencies. A 
 very dull joke had wit enough to provok« 
 his laughter; and so the actor wore a 
 fine coat, and moiithhl vfhh sufficient em- 
 phasis, he easily forgave all want of at- 
 tention to duties of character, or circum- 
 stances of situation. As the actors who 
 
 at
 
 AN OLD FAMILY LEGEND. 197 
 
 4t present *' strutted their hour upon 
 the stage/' though merely the upper do- 
 mestics of the castlCj had been instructed 
 in their art by the most fashionable 
 players of the metropolis^ it wiii be sup- 
 posed that they were adepts in the art of 
 "tearing a passion to tatters;" and as 
 for fine attire, a regular set of dresses 
 was always preserved for the stage amuse- 
 ments of the castle, which, as they were 
 eminently gorgeous, and somewhat ex- 
 pensive, were made to suit all characters. 
 One dress in particular had been succes- 
 sively worn by king Herod, Pontius Pi- 
 late, and Alexander the Great. 
 
 When the morality ended, that farewell 
 offering, termed the wines, which con- 
 sisted of cakes, conserves, and the richest 
 liquors of Hungary and France, was pre- 
 sented to the whole company. After 
 
 which.
 
 198 AN DID FAMILY LKCEKD, 
 
 which, the king prepared to retire for the 
 night. 
 
 In the general bustle which preceded" 
 the retirement of the sovereign, Cnth- 
 bert endeavoured to gain an opportunity 
 of addressing to Matilda a few words of 
 assurance and precaution. Lord Ches-- 
 terdale had quitted the castle in disgust; 
 but sir Everard still maintained his post, 
 and a]>peared sedulous to preclude all 
 rival approaches to the object of his at- 
 tenlion. But Cuthbert was not to be 
 easily diverted from his aim, and he 
 found means to repeat the terms of his 
 appointment with Matilda, and to re- 
 quest that she would not give way to 
 groundless apprehensions. He had not 
 yet quitted her side when the eail passed 
 hastily that v^^ay, i'ov the purpose of usher- 
 mg the kii^g to his bed-room. When op- 
 posite
 
 AN OI.D FAMILY L1:(5KND. 199 
 
 posjte to sir Everard, the earl paused for 
 an instant, and said, with earnest empha- 
 sis, and a look of deep meaning, '' Re- 
 member!" 
 
 '' I am not subject to forget fulness," 
 replied sir Everard. 
 
 '' I believe vou !" said Rowland, as he 
 proceeded towards the king. 
 
 All was speedily ceremony and com- 
 iT?v3tion, for the king had risen to depart. 
 '1 he lords bowed to the ladies, and the 
 ladies curtseyed to the lords; while each, 
 by endeavouring to accommodate the 
 cleparture of the other, added to the ge- 
 neral confusion, and assisted to obstruct 
 the passage. At length (in spite of the 
 civil attempts of their very polite friends) 
 the- whole of the company quitted the 
 supper- rooms. The music sounded the 
 parting flourish; and the strains of the 
 
 harp
 
 200 AN OLD FAMILY LEGEND. 
 
 harp, the sawtry^ the sistrum, and the pipe 
 and tabor, echoed through the vast cham- 
 bers of the castle, until each person was 
 supposed to have gained his allotted 
 apartment, when a profound tranquillity- 
 succeeded the noisy merriment which 
 had so long prevailed. 
 
 END OF VOL, 1 
 
 Lane, Darling, and Co. Leadenhail-strect.
 
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