"<U-'lo 
 
 s 
 
 ]- 
 
 UNIVERSITY OF ILLINOIS 
 LIBRARY 
 
 Class 
 
 Book 
 
 Volume 
 
 ^"■^i^^? ' 
 
DARNLEY; 
 
 OR, THE 
 
 FIELD OF THE CLOTH OF GOLD. 
 
 Q • ^Y THE AUTHOR OF " RICHELIEU," &c 
 
 V Q 
 
 I do not think a braver gentleman, 
 More daring or more bold, is now alive 
 To grace this latter age with noble deeds." 
 
 SHAKSPEARE. 
 
 IN THREE VOLUMES. 
 
 VOL. I. 
 
 LONDON: 
 
 HENRY COLBURN AND RICHARD BENTLEY, 
 8, NEW BURLINGTON STREET. 
 
 1830. 
 
LONDON : 
 
 PRINTED BY SAMUEL BENTLEY, 
 
 Dorset Street, Fleet Street, 
 

 BIOGRAPHICAL PREFACE. 
 
 Every one has heard of the learned Von- 
 derbrugius, the famous Dutch poet, historian, 
 philosopher, orator, and critic, who, according 
 to the best accounts, could trace his genealogy 
 to the most ancient families in Holland, being 
 descended from Adam and Eve by the mother's 
 side and the Lord knows who by the father's. 
 It does not become me, however, to follow his 
 lineage farther up than to one William Hans, a 
 Dutch merchant, who inhabited London in the 
 year of Grace one thousand five hundred and 
 odd, and who somewhere about the end of the 
 same year, (to save scandal,) espoused one Ju- 
 lian, otherwise Juliana, otherwise July, othcx'- 
 wise Gillian Higgins, having issue Winken 
 Hans, him succeeding. 
 
IV BIOGRAPHIC A.L PREFACE. 
 
 Winken Hans had issue Gueldern and Per- 
 terkin and Johanna, which last, Johanna, mar- 
 ried Pingerstillen Von Wolfenbottle, whose 
 daughter Mary espoused Frederic Stinten Von- 
 derbrugius, whose eldest son is the subject of 
 the present memoir, or rather was the subject 
 thereof, for the memoir is present, and the sub- 
 ject is past, and as the learned Vonderbrugius 
 himself observes in the three hundred and forty- 
 fourth volume of his works, folio edition, page 
 nine hundred and seventy, " What is past may 
 be present, but what is present cannot be past." 
 
 However, not to enter into a metaphysical 
 discussion, we will proceed with the biography 
 of Carle Angelicus Brigdenthrorpe Vonderbru- 
 gius, the day of whose birth is unfortunately 
 somewhat obscure. In the great dictionary of 
 Millenhorn, it is stated to have occurred on the 
 11th of January; but the black letter copy 
 of the lives of the Dutch poets, in ninety vo- 
 lumes, makes it on the 12th, and the abridged 
 edition, in forty-four, leaves the matter doubt- 
 ful. However, several curious facts are men- 
 
BIOGRAPHICAL PREFACE. V 
 
 tioned by all his biographers, from which, per- 
 haps, by chronological examination, persons of 
 more extensive research than myself may be 
 enabled to ascertain the precise period. 
 
 First, it is to be observed, that during gesta- 
 tion, his mother dreamt three successive times, 
 that she was delivered of a folio volume. In 
 the next place, in the eighth month of her preg- 
 nancy, her husband was choked with a bit of 
 sheep -skin ; upon hearing which she was so 
 much affected, that she could only exclaim, 
 " Poor man ! — bid Jenkin Stirral give me the 
 bottle of skidam that stands behind the door in 
 the back room.'' And in the third place, on 
 the day of her accouchement, the public library 
 at Antwerp was burnt to the ground. 
 
 From these three circumstances, various peo- 
 ple augured various things, but the generally 
 received interpretation thereof was as follows : 
 From the dream of the folio, it was decided 
 that the young Vonderbrugius would write 
 an amazing deal ; from the cause of the hus- 
 band's death, and the widow's exclamation, 
 a 3 
 
VI BIOGRAPHICAL PREFACE. 
 
 that he would be a pastoral composer and a 
 man of great spirit ; and from the destruc- 
 tion of the library, that his erudition would 
 leave nothing to be learned or desired from 
 any other author. 
 
 All this was fulfilled in a very wonderful 
 manner. In accomplishment of the first, he is 
 known to have published six hundred and 
 thirty-two volumes of poetry and prose, all in 
 folio, for the purpose of justifying his mother. 
 In the next place, no one is unacquainted with 
 his adaptation of the eclogues of Virgil to the 
 Dutch language, the beginning of which may 
 be Englished — 
 
 " Thou Tityrus reclining in the shade, 
 
 By an umbrageous windmill moving made," 
 &c. &c. &c. &:c. &c. 
 
 And in regard to the third augury, who that 
 ever had the whole of Vonderbrugius's works 
 at hand, would think of consulting any other ? 
 But, alas ! what a treasure is withheld from 
 the world, by the non-publication of the various 
 
BIOGRAPHICAL PREFACE. Vll 
 
 valuable MSS. which he left. Of this, however, 
 more hereafter, as in the present instance we 
 must follow this great phenomenon's short, but 
 bright career. 
 
 Vonderbrugius is represented not to have 
 been weaned till he reached the age of two 
 years, which is doubtless the cause of that milk 
 of human kindness discoverable in all his works. 
 This, however, is a mere report, and the first 
 fact of consequence that we discover concerning 
 him, is that at four years old he w^as whipped 
 by a barbarous schoolmaster for oversetting a 
 bottle of ink on a ream of paper, which was 
 soaked through to the very innermost sheet. 
 At nine years old he was fed upon peas-por- 
 ridge, and about the same time published his 
 great work upon projectiles. In that year also, 
 appeared his elegant treatise upon " The Emp- 
 tiness of Human Acquirements." 
 
 The success of these works induced his mo- 
 ther the next year to vary his diet, and to allow 
 him pickled- salmon, occasionally chequered with 
 red-herrings, on which he produced his wonder- 
 
vm BIOGRAPHICAL PREFACE. 
 
 ful Essay on the Integral Calculus, together 
 with his " Satirist's Guide, or The Art of Bear- 
 ing False Witness against your Neighbour." 
 The next year he took to beef and mustard, 
 and wrote three books of a very opposite ten- 
 dency, namely, " The Defence of the Pope ;" 
 " An Essay on the English Constitution ;*''' and 
 " The Court Jester ; or. Every Man his own 
 Fool." 
 
 Shortly after this he was elected Professor of 
 Conic Sections at the University of Leyden, 
 where he gave to the world his very ingenious 
 essay on Carving ; and having taken to eating 
 pork for supper, he published his grand com- 
 mentary and explanation of the Apocalypse of 
 St. John ; his calculations of the longitude, and 
 his method of magnifying fixed stars. He 
 next tried a course of saur krout, and edited 
 one of the great critical journals of Leyden : 
 but, having discovered a combination amongst 
 the authors of the city, for the purpose of 
 murdering him, he gave up saur krout and 
 the review, and abandoned himself to roast 
 
BIOGRAPHICAL PREFACE. IX 
 
 mutton, cauliflowers, and Bordeaux wine ; 
 upon which diet he continued till his death, 
 which occurred exactly seventy years afterwards. 
 His writings during this period consisted prin- 
 cipally of history, biography, pastoral poetry, 
 eulogies, elegies, natural history and philoso- 
 phy ; and so much beloved had he made him- 
 self by the time of his decease, that it was ac- 
 tually proposed in the senate of the University 
 of Ley den to embalm his body, and place it in 
 a glass pillar, after the manner of the Ethio- 
 pians, as described by Herodotus. It being 
 necessary, however, to summon the Council, and 
 give one week's notice before the motion could 
 be made — the customary forms also taking up 
 one day, and the speeches on the occasion 
 occupying three — before the embalming was 
 voted — the Professor stunk. 
 
 It so happened that when Nicholas Vonder- 
 brugius, the lineal descendant and heir direct of 
 this great man, was last in London, I had an 
 opportunity of serving him essentially, by in- 
 troducing him to my friend Alderman , 
 
X BIOGRA.PHICAL PREFACE. 
 
 who instantly bought of him nine thousand 
 hundred weight of salt-butter, and five thou- 
 sand hundred weight of cheese ; and so great 
 was the liberal Dutchman's gratitude, that he 
 promised if ever I came to Leyden, he would 
 show me his great great grandfather's library. 
 
 Accordingly, being in Holland some years 
 ago, I struck across the country to Leyden, 
 where I was hospitably received by the mer- 
 chant, who after dinner conducted me into an 
 immense chamber, ornamented with oak shelves, 
 whereon were deposited the works of Vonder- 
 brygius, in folio — six hundred and thirty-two 
 volumes ! ! ! It was a solemn — it was an awful 
 sight ! and we stood mute with reverence in 
 presence of those ponderous monuments of hu- 
 man industry. 
 
 At length my eye fell upon half-a-dozen 
 octavo volumes, pushed into one corner of the 
 library, and on asking what they were, my host 
 fell into somewhat of a passion, exclaiming, 
 " That is the only weakness of which my great 
 ancestor was ever guilty. Who could conceive 
 
BIOGRAPHICAL PREFACE. XI 
 
 that he would be fool enough, after having writ- 
 ten six hundred and thirty-two volumes folio, 
 to degenerate into an octavo in his old age. I 
 will go and order it to be burnt immediately."" 
 
 *' Burnt !"" exclaimed I : " Heaven forbid ! 
 Give it to me.'" 
 
 " With all my heart," replied he ; and I car- 
 ried it off. 
 
 Its contents I now give to the public in an 
 abridged form, and have only to remark, that 
 the William Hans mentioned hereafter, was 
 neither more nor less than the great great 
 grandfather of Professor Vonderbrugius, as 
 shown in the genealogy at the beginning of 
 this preface. From this I infer, as an indu- 
 bitable fact, that the whole history which fol- 
 lows was compiled from authentic family docu- 
 ments, and consequently must be true ! 
 
ERRATA. 
 
 VOL. II. 
 Page 294, line 11, for " Taizez vous," read " Taisez vou3. 
 
 VOL. III. 
 Page 48, last line, for " Greenwich," read " Richmond." 
 
 133, line 8, for " Perhaps he," read " Perhaps Frederick." 
 217, line 7, for " All that he," read " — all that he." 
 268, line 8, for " ought be," read " ought to be." 
 
 274, line 5, for " more honour," read " most honour." 
 
 275, line 2, for " tot he," read " to the." 
 
 290, line 19, for " worst horror. The," read " worst horror — the. 
 ,330, line 15,, for " not only like," read " not only, like." 
 
DARNLEY, 
 
 CHAPTER I 
 
 In this King Arthur's reign, 
 A lusty Knight was pricking o'er the plain. 
 
 Dryden. 
 
 On. the morning of the 24th day of March, 
 1520, a traveller was seen riding in the small 
 rugged cross road which, traversing the eastern 
 part of Kent, formed the immediate communi- 
 cation between Wye and Canterbury. Far be 
 it from me to insinuate that this road pursued 
 any thing like a direct course from the one 
 place to the other ; on the contrary, it seemed 
 like a serpent, to get on only by twisting : and 
 yet truly, as its track now lies pictured on 
 the old county map before me, I can discover 
 
 VOL. I. B 
 
2 DARNLEY. 
 
 no possible reason for its various contortions, 
 inasmuch as they avoid neither ascents nor 
 descents, but proceed ahke over rough and 
 smooth, hill and dale, appearing only to wind 
 about for the sake of variety. I can conceive 
 the engineer who planned it, laughing in his 
 sleeve at the consummate meanderings which 
 he compelled his travellers to undergo. How- 
 ever, as at the time I speak of, this was the 
 only road through that part of the country, 
 every traveller was obliged to content him- 
 self with it, such as it was, notwithstanding 
 both its circumvolutions and its ruggedness. 
 
 Indeed the horseman and his beast, who on 
 the' afore-mentioned morning journeyed on- 
 ward together towards Canterbury, were appa- 
 rently well calculated to encounter what the 
 profane vulgar call, the ups and downs of life ; 
 for never a stouter cavalier mounted horse, and 
 never a stouter horse was mounted by cavalier, 
 and there was something in the strong quadrate 
 form of each — in the bold free movement of 
 every limb, and in the firm martial regularity 
 of their pace, which spoke a habitual conscious- 
 ness of tried and unfailing power. 
 
DARNLEY. O 
 
 The rider was a man of about five or six 
 and twenty, perhaps not so old ; but the hardy 
 exposed life which had dyed his florid cheek 
 with a tinge of deep brown, had given also to 
 his figure that look of set mature strength, 
 which is not usually concomitant with youth. 
 But strength with him had nothing of un- 
 gracefulness, for the very vigour of his limbs 
 gave them ease of motion. Yet there was some- 
 thing more in his aspect and in his carriage 
 than can rightly b? attributed to the grace 
 induced by habits of martial exercise, or to the 
 dignity derived from consciousness of skill or 
 valour; there was that sort of innate nobility 
 of look, which we are often weakly inclined 
 to combine in our minds with nobility of sta- 
 tion, and that peculiar sort of grace which is a 
 gift, not an acquirement. 
 
 To paint him to the mind^s eye were very dif- 
 ficult, though to describe him were very easy : 
 for though I were to say, that he was a tall 
 fair man, with the old Saxon blood shining out 
 in his deep blue eye, and in his full short 
 upper lip, from which the light brown mostache 
 turned off in a sweep, exposing its fine arching 
 B 2 
 
4 DARNLEY. 
 
 line — though I were to speak of the manly 
 beauty of his features, rendered scarcely less, 
 bv a deep scar upon his forehead — or were I 
 to detail, with the accuracy of a sculptor, the 
 elegant proportion of every limb, I might in- 
 deed communicate to the mind of the reader 
 the idea of a much more handsome man than 
 he really was ; but I should fail to invest tlie 
 image with that spirit of gracefulness which, 
 however combined with outward form, seems 
 to radiate from within, which must live to be 
 perfect, and must be seen to be understood. 
 
 His apparel was not such as his bearing 
 seemed to warrant : though good, it was not 
 costly, and though not faded, it certainly was 
 not new. Nor was the fashion of it entirely 
 English: the grey cloth doublet slashed with 
 black, as well as the falling ruff round his 
 neck, were decidedly Flemish ; and his hose 
 of dark stuff, might probably have been pro^ 
 nounced foreign also by the connoisseurs of 
 the day, although the variety of modes then 
 used amongst our change-loving nation, justi- 
 fied a man in choosing his breeches from any 
 extreme, whether from the fathomless profun- 
 
DARNLEY. 5 
 
 dity of a Dutchman's ninth pair, or from the 
 close fitting garment of the Italian sworder. 
 The traveller's hose approached more towards 
 the latter fashion, and served to show off the 
 fair proportion of his limbs, without strait- 
 ening him by too great tightness ; while his 
 wide boots of untanned leather, pushed down 
 to the ankle, evinced that he did not consider 
 his journey likely to prove long, or at least 
 very fatiguing. 
 
 In those days, when as old Holinshed as- 
 sures us, it was not safe to ride unarmed, even 
 upon the most frequented road, a small bridle 
 path, such as that which the traveller pursued, 
 was not likely to afford much greater security. 
 However, he did not appear to have furnish- 
 ed himself with more than the complement of 
 offensive arms, usually worn by every one 
 above the rank of a simple yeoman ; namely, 
 the long straight double-edged sword, which, 
 thrust through a broad buff belt, hung per- 
 pendicularly down his thigh, with the hilt 
 shaped in form of a cross, without any far- 
 ther guard for the hand ; while in the girdle 
 appeared a small dagger, which served also as 
 
6 DARNLEY. 
 
 a knife : added to these, was a dag or pistol, 
 which though small, considering the dimensions 
 of the arms then used, would have caused any 
 horse-pistol of the present day to blush at its 
 own insignificance. 
 
 In point of defensive armour he carried none, 
 except a steel cap, which hung at his saddle- 
 bow, while its place on his head was supplied 
 by a Genoa bonnet of black velvet, round which 
 his rich chestnut hair curled in thick profu- 
 sion. 
 
 Here have I bestowed more than a page and 
 a half upon the description of a man's dress and 
 demeanour, which, under most circumstances, I 
 should consider a most scandalous and illegiti- 
 mate waste of time, paper, and attention ; but, 
 in truth, I would fain, in the present instance, 
 that my reader should see my traveller before 
 his mind's eye, exactly as his picture represents 
 him, pricking along the road on his strong 
 black horse, with his chest borne forward, his 
 heel depressed, his person erect, and his whole 
 figure expressing corporeal ease and power. 
 
 Very different, however, were his mental sen- 
 sations, if one might believe the knitted look of 
 
DARNLEY. 7 
 
 thought that sat upon his full broad brow, and 
 the lines that early care seemed to have biisily 
 traced upon the cheek of youth. Deep medi- 
 tation, at all events, was the companion of his 
 way ; for, confident in the sure-footedness of 
 his steed, he took no care to hold his bridle in 
 hand, but suffered himself to be borne forward 
 almost unconsciously, fixing his gaze upon the 
 line of light that hung above the edge of the 
 hill before him, as if there he spied some object 
 of deep interest ; yet, at the same time, with 
 that fixed intensity, which told, that, while the 
 eye thus occupied itself, the mind was far 
 otherwise employed. 
 
 It was a shrewd March morning, and the 
 part of the road, at which the traveller had 
 now arrived, opened out upon a wide wild com- 
 mon, whereon the keen north-west blast had 
 full room to exercise itself unrestrained. On 
 the one side, the country sloped rapidly down 
 from the road, exposing an extensive view of 
 some fine level plains, distributed into fielfis, 
 and scattered with a multitude of hamlets and 
 villages, the early smoke rising from whose 
 chimneys, caught by the wind, mingled with 
 
« DARNLEV. 
 
 the vapour from a sluggish river in the bottom, 
 and, drifting over the scene, gave a thousand 
 different aspects to the landscape as it passed. 
 On the other hand, the common rose against 
 the sky in a wide sloping upland, naked, de- 
 solate, and unbroken, except where a clump of 
 stunted oaks jraised their bare heads out of an 
 old gravel pit by the road side, or where a 
 group of dark pines broke the distant line of 
 the ground. The road which the traveller had 
 hitherto pursued proceeded still along the side 
 of the hill, but branching off to the left was 
 seen another rugged gravelly path, winding 
 over the common. 
 
 At' the spot where these two divaricated, the 
 horseman stopped, as if uncertain of his farther 
 route, and looking for some one to direct him 
 on his way. But he looked in vain ; no trace 
 of human habitation was to be seen, nor any 
 indication of man's proximity, except such as 
 could be gathered from the presence of a 
 solitary duck, which seemed to be passing its 
 anchoritish hours in fishing for the tadpoles, 
 which inhabited a little pond by the road-side. 
 
 The traveller paused, undetermined on which 
 
DARN LEY. \) 
 
 of the two roads to turn his horse, when suddenly 
 a loud scream met his ear, and instantly setting 
 spurs to his horse, he galloped towards the quar- 
 ter from whence the sound seemed to proceed. 
 Without waiting to pursue the windings of the 
 little path, in a moment he had cleared the up- 
 land, towards the spot where he had beheld the 
 pines, and instead of finding that the country be- 
 yond, as one might imagine from the view below, 
 fell into another deep valley on that side, he per- 
 ceived that the common continued to extend for 
 some way over an uninterrupted flat, terminated 
 by some wide plantations at a great distance. 
 
 In advance, sheltered by a high bank, and 
 the group of pines above-mentioned, appeared 
 a solitary cottage formed of wood and mud. 
 It may be well supposed that its archi- 
 tecture was not very perfect, nor its construc- 
 tion of the most refined t^ste ; but yet there 
 seemed some attempt at decoration in the rude 
 trellis that surrounded the door- way, and in 
 the neat cutting of the thatch which covered 
 it from the weather. As the traveller rode 
 towards it the scream was reiterated, and now, 
 guided by his ear, he proceeded direct towards 
 B 5 
 
10 DARNLEY. 
 
 a little garden, which had been borrowed from 
 the common, and inclosed with a mud wall. 
 The door of this inclosure stood open, and at 
 once admitted the stranger into the interior, 
 where he beheld — what shall be detailed in the 
 following chapter. 
 
DARNLEY. 11 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 " Patient yourself ^ Madam, and pardon /we." 
 
 Shakspeare. 
 
 Now, doubtless, every romance-reading per- 
 son, into whose hands this book may fall, will 
 conclude, and determine, and feel perfectly con- 
 vinced in their own minds, that the scream, 
 mentioned in the last chapter, announces no 
 less important a being than the heroine of the 
 tale, and will be very much surprised, as well 
 as disappointed, to hear that when the traveller 
 rode through the open gate into the little gar- 
 den attached to the cottage, he perceived a 
 group, which certainly did not derive any in- 
 terest it might possess from the graces of 
 youth and beauty. It consisted simply of an 
 
12 DARNLEY, 
 
 old woman, of the poorest class, striving, with 
 weak hands, to stay a stout rosy youth, of mean 
 countenance, but good apparel, from repeating 
 a buffet he had bestowed upon the third person 
 of the group, a venerable old man, who seemed 
 little calculated to resist his violence. Angry 
 words were evidently still passing on both 
 parts, and before the traveller could hear to 
 what they referred, the youth passed the wo- 
 man, and struck the old man a second blow, 
 which levelled him with the ground. 
 
 If one might judge from that traveller's ap- 
 pearance, he had seen many a sight of danger 
 and of horror ; but there was something in the 
 view of the old man's white hair, mingling with 
 the mould of the earth, that blanched his 
 cheek, and made his blood run cold. In a 
 moment he was off his horse, and by the young 
 man's side. " How now, Sir villain !"' cried 
 he, '* art thou mad, to strike thy father .^" 
 
 " He 's no father of mine," replied the sturdy 
 youth, turning away his head with a sort of 
 dogged feeling of shame. " He's no father of 
 mine — I 'm better come." 
 
 " Better come, misbegotten knave !" cried 
 
DARN LEY. 13 
 
 the traveller ; " then thy father might blush to 
 own thee. Strike an old man like that ! Get 
 thee gone, quick, lest I flay thee !" 
 
 " Get thee gone, thyself!'" answered the other, 
 liis feeling of reprehension being quickly fled : 
 and turning sharply round, with an air of 
 effrontery which nought but the insolence of 
 office could inspire, he added, " Who art thou, 
 with thy get thee gones ? I am here in right 
 of Sir Pay an Wileton, to turn these old vermin 
 out ; so get thee gone along with them !'" and 
 he ran his eye over the stranger's simple garb 
 with a sneer of sturdy defiance. 
 
 The traveller gazed at him for a moment, as 
 if in astonishment at his daring; then, with a 
 motion as quick as light, laid one hand upon 
 the yeoman's collar, the other upon the thick 
 band of his kersey slop breeches, raised him 
 from the ground, and giving him one swing 
 back, to allow his arms their full sweep, he 
 pitched him at once over the low wall of the 
 garden into the heath bushes beyond. 
 
 Without affording a look to his prostrate 
 adversary, the stranger proceeded to assist the 
 old man in rising, and, amidst the blessings of 
 
14 DARNLEY. 
 
 the good dame, conveyed him into the cottage. 
 He then returned to the little garden, lest his 
 horse should commit any ravages upon the 
 scanty provision of the old couple, (for he was, 
 it seems, too good a soldier even to allow his 
 horse to live by plunder), and while tying him 
 to the gate-post, his eye naturally turned to the 
 bushes into which he had thrown his opponent. 
 
 The young man had just risen on his feet, 
 and, in unutterable rage, was stamping furi- 
 ously on the ground, without however daring 
 to re-enter the precincts from which he had 
 been so unceremoniously expelled. The stranger 
 contented himself with observing that he wag 
 ilot much hurt ; and after letting his eye dwell 
 for a moment on the cognizance of a serpent 
 twined round a crane, which was embroidered 
 on the yeoman's coat, he again entered the cot- 
 tage, while the other proceeded slowly over 
 the common, every now and then turning round 
 to shake his clenched fist towards the garden, 
 in the last struggles of impotent passion. 
 
 " Well, good father, how fares it with thee .^" 
 demanded the traveller, approaching the old 
 
DARNLEY. 15 
 
 man. " I fear that young villain has hurt 
 thee." 
 
 " Nay, Sir, nay," replied the other. " Not 
 so ; in faith he did not strike hard : an old 
 man's limbs are soon overthrown. Ah ! well I 
 remember the day when I would have whacked 
 a score of them. But I 'm broken now. — Kate, 
 give his worship the settle. If our boy had 
 seen him lift his hand against his father, 'faith, 
 he 'd have broken his pate. Though your wor- 
 ship soon convinced him — God's blessing upon 
 your head for it." 
 
 The stranger silently sat himself down in the 
 settle, which the old woman placed for him 
 with a thousand thanks and gratulations, and 
 suiFered them to proceed undisturbed with all 
 the garrulity of age, while his own thoughts 
 seemed, from some unapparent cause, to have 
 wandered far upon a different track. Whether, 
 that the swift wings of memory had retraced in 
 a moment a space that, in the dull march of 
 time, had occupied many a long year, or that 
 the lightning speed of hope had already borne 
 him to a goal, which was still far beyond pro- 
 
16 DARNLEY. 
 
 bability's short view, matters little. Most 
 likely it was one or the other ; for the present 
 is but a point to which but little thought ap- 
 pertains, while the mind hovers backwards and 
 forwards between the past and the future, ex- 
 pending the store of its regrets upon the one, 
 and wasting all its wishes on the other. — He 
 awoke with a sigh. " But tell me," said he to 
 the old man, " what was the cause of all this .^'" 
 
 " Why, Heaven bless your worship," replied 
 the cottager, who had been talking all the time, 
 " I have just been telling you." 
 
 " Nay, but I mean, why you came to live 
 here ?" said the traveller, " for this is but a 
 poor place !" and he glanced his eye over the 
 interior of the cottage, which was wretched 
 enough. Its floor formed of hardened clay — 
 its small lattice windows boasting no glass in 
 the wicker frames of which they were com- 
 posed, but showing in its place some thin 
 plates of horn (common enough in the meaner 
 cottages of those times), admitting but a dull 
 and miserable light to the interior — its bare 
 walls of lath, through the crevices of which 
 
DARNLEY. 17 
 
 appeared the mud that had been plastered on 
 the outside — all gave an air of poverty and 
 uncomfort difficult to find in the poorest Eng- 
 lish cottage of to-day. " I think you said that 
 you had been in better circumstances ?" con- 
 tinued the traveller. 
 
 " I did not say so, your Worship," replied 
 the old man, " but it was easy to guess ; yet, 
 for twelve long years, have I known little but 
 misery. I was then gate-porter to my good 
 Lorji Fitzbemard, at Chilham Castle, here 
 hard by — your Worship knows it, doubtless.'' 
 Oh ! 'twas a fair place in those days, for my 
 Lord kept great state, and never a day but 
 what We had the tilt-yard full of gallants, who 
 would bear away the ring from the best in 
 the land. My old Lord could handle a lance 
 well, too, though he waxed aged ; but "'twas 
 my young Lord Osborne that was the darling 
 of all our hearts. Poor youth ! he was not 
 then fourteen, yet so strong, he'd break a 
 lance, and bide a buffet, with the best. He's 
 over the seas now, alas ! and they say obliged 
 to win his food at the sword's point." 
 
18 DARNLEY. 
 
 " Nay, how so?" asked the traveller. "If 
 he were heir of Chilham Castle, how is it he 
 fares so hardly, this Lord Osborne ?" 
 
 " We called him still Lord Osborne," an- 
 swered the old woman, "for I was his nurse 
 when he was young, your Worship, and his 
 christened name was Osborne. But his title 
 was Lord Darnley, by those who called him 
 properly. God bless him for ever ! Now, 
 Richard, tell his honour how all the misfor- 
 tunes happened." 
 
 " 'Twill but tire his honour," said the old 
 man. " In his young day he must have heard 
 how Empson and Dudley, the two blackest 
 traitors that ever England had, went through 
 all the country, picking holes in every honest 
 man's coat, and sequestrating their estates, as 
 'twas then called. Lord bless thee, Kate ! 
 his Worship knows it all." 
 
 " I have heard something of the matter, 
 but I would fain understand it more particu- 
 larly," said the stranger. " I had learned that 
 the sequestrated estates had been restored, 
 and the fines remitted, since this young King 
 was upon the throne." 
 
DARiNLEY. 19 
 
 " Ay, truly, Sir, the main part of them,"" 
 answ^ed the old man ; " but there were some 
 men, who, being in the Court's displeasure, 
 were not likely to have justice done them. 
 Such a one was my good Lord and master, 
 who, they say, had been heard to declare, 
 that he held Perkyn Warbeck's title as good 
 as King Harry the Seventh's. So when they 
 proved the penal statutes against him, as 
 they called it, instead of calling for a fine, 
 which every peasant on his land would have 
 brought his mite to pay, they took the whole 
 estate, and left him a beggar in his age. But 
 that was not the worst, for doubtless the 
 whole would have been given back again 
 when the good young King did justice on 
 Empson and Dudley ; but as this sequestra- 
 tion was a malice, and not an avarice like the 
 rest, instead of transferring the estate to the 
 King's own hand, they gave it to one Sir Pa- 
 yan Wileton, who, if ever a gallows was made 
 higher than Haman's, would well grace it. 
 This man has many a friend at the Court, 
 gained, they say, by foul means ; and though 
 much stir was made some eight years agone. 
 
550 DARNLEY. 
 
 by the Lord Stafford and the good Duke of 
 Buckingham, to have the old Lord's estates 
 given back again. Sir Payan was strong enough 
 in abettors to outstand them all, and then 
 
 but I hear horses' feet. 'Tis surely Sir 
 
 Payan sent to hound me out even from here."" 
 
 As he spoke, the loud neighing of the 
 stranger's horse announced the approach of 
 some of his four-footed fraternity, and open- 
 ing the cottage-door, the old man looked forth 
 to ascertain if his apprehensions were just. 
 
 The cloud, however, was cleared off his 
 brov^^ in a moment, by the appearance of the 
 person w^ho rode into the garden. 
 
 " Joy, good wife ! joy !" cried the old man, 
 "it is Sir Cesar ! It is Sir Cesar ! We are 
 safe enough now !" 
 
 " Sir Cesar !" cried the traveller, " That 
 is a strange name !" and he turned to the 
 cottage-door to examine the person that ap- 
 proached. 
 
 Cantering through the garden, on a milk- 
 white palfrey, adorned with black leather 
 trapping, appeared a little old man, dressed 
 in singular but elegant habiliments. His dou- 
 
DARNLEY. 21 
 
 blet was of black velvet, his hose of crimson 
 stuff, and his boots of buff. His cloak was 
 black, like his coat, but lined with rich mi- 
 niver fur, of which also was his bonnet. He 
 wore no arms, except a small dagger, the steel 
 hilt of which glittered in his girdle ; and to 
 turn and guide his palfrey, he made use of 
 neither spur nor rein, but seemed more to 
 direct than urge him, with a peeled osier 
 stick, with which he every now and then 
 touched the animal on either ear. 
 
 His person was as singular as his dress. 
 Extremely diminutive in stature, his limbs ap- 
 peared well formed, and even graceful. He 
 was not a dwarf, but still considerably below 
 the middle size ; and though not mis-shapen in 
 body, his face had that degree of prominence, 
 and his eye that keen vivacious sparkle, ge- 
 nerally discovered in the deformed. In com- 
 plexion, he was swarthy to excess, while his 
 long black hair, slightly mingled with grey, 
 escaped from under his bonnet, and fell upon 
 his shoulders. Still the most remarkable fea- 
 ture was his eye, which, though sunk deep in 
 his head, had a quickness and a fire that contra- 
 
^2 DARNLEY. 
 
 dieted the calm placid expression of the rest 
 of his countenance, and seemed to indicate a 
 restless, busy spirit ; for glancing rapidly from 
 object to object, it rested not a moment upon 
 any one thing, but appeared to collect the in- 
 formation it sought with the quickness of 
 lightning, and then fly off" to something new. 
 
 In this manner he approached the cottage, 
 his look at first rapidly running over the 
 figures of the two cottagers and their guest; 
 but then turning to their faces, his eye might 
 be seen scanning every feature, and seeming 
 to extract their meaning in an instant ; as in 
 the summer, we see the bee darting into every 
 flower, and drawing forth their virtues, while 
 it scarcely pauses to fold its wings. It seemed 
 as if the face was to him a book, where each 
 line was written with some tale or some in- 
 formation, but in a character so legible, and 
 a language so well known, that a moment 
 sufficed him for the perusal of the whole. 
 
 At the cottage door, the palfrey stopped of 
 itself, and slipping down out of the saddle with 
 extraordinary activity, the old gentleman stood 
 before the traveller and his hosts with that sort 
 
DARNLEY. 23 
 
 of sharp sudden motion that startles, although 
 expected. The old man and his wife received 
 their new guest with reverence, almost ap- 
 proaching to awe ; but before noticing them far- 
 ther than by signing them each with the cross, 
 he turned directly towards the traveller, and 
 doffing his cap of miniver, he made him a pro- 
 found bow, while his long hair, parted from the 
 crown, fell over his face and almost concealed 
 it : " Sir Osborne Maurice," said he, " Well 
 met." 
 
 The traveller bowed in some surprise to find 
 himself recognised by the singular person who 
 addressed him. " Truly, Sir," he answered, " you 
 have rightly fallen upon the name I bear, and 
 seem to know me well, though in truth I can 
 boast no such knowledge in regard to you. To 
 my remembrance, this is the first time we have 
 met." 
 
 " Within the last thousand years," replied 
 the old man, " we have met more than a thou- 
 sand times; but I remember you well before 
 that, when you commanded a Roman Cohort in 
 the first Punic war." 
 
 '' He''s mad !'' thought the traveller, "pro- 
 
24 DARNLEY. 
 
 foundly insane !"" and he turned an inquiring 
 glance to the old cottager and his wife : but 
 far from showing any surprise, they stood re- 
 garding their strange visitor with looks of deep 
 awe and respect ; however, the traveller, at 
 length replied, " Memory, with me, is a more 
 treacherous guardian of the past : but may I 
 crave the name of so ancient an acquaintance." 
 
 " In Britain," answered the old man, " they 
 call me Sir Cesar ; in Spain, Don Cesario ; and 
 in Padua, simply Cesario il dotto." 
 
 '' What !" cried Sir Osborne, " the fa- 
 mous " 
 
 " Ay, ay !" interrupted the old man ; "fa- 
 mous, if it may so be called. — But no more of 
 that. — Fame is but like a billow on a sandy 
 shore, that when the tide is in, it seems a migh- 
 ty thing, and when 'tis out, 'tis nothing. If I 
 have learned nought beside, I have learned to 
 despise fame." 
 
 '' That your learning must have taught you 
 far more, needs no farther proof than your 
 knowledge of a stranger that you never saw — 
 at least with human eyes," said Sir Osborne, 
 
DARNLEY. 25 
 
 " and in truth, this, your knowledge, makes me 
 a believer in that art, which, hitherto, I had 
 held as emptiness." 
 
 " Cast from you no ore till you have tried it 
 seven times in the fire," replied Sir Cesar; 
 " hold nothing as emptiness that you have not 
 essayed. But hark ! bend down thine ear, and 
 thou shalt hear more anon !" 
 
 The young traveller bowed his head, till his ear 
 was on a level with the mouth of the diminu- 
 tive speaker, v^^ho seemed to whisper not more 
 than one word, but that was of such a nature 
 as to make Sir Osborne start back, and fix his 
 eyes upon him with a look of inquiring astonish- 
 ment, that brought a smile upon the old man's 
 lip. " There is no magic here," said Sir Cesar : 
 " You shall hear more hereafter — But hush ! 
 come into the cottage — for hunger, that vile 
 earthly want, calls upon me for its due : herein, 
 alas ! we are all a-kin unto the hog — come." 
 
 They accordingly entered the lowly dwelling, 
 and sat dovvn to a small oaken table placed in 
 the midst ; Sir Cesar as if accustomed to com- 
 mand there, seating the traveller as his guest, 
 and demanding of the old couple a supply of 
 
 VOL. I. c 
 
26 DARNLEY. 
 
 those things he deemed necessary. " Set down 
 the salt in the middle, Richard Heartley — 
 now bring the bread — take the bacon from the 
 pot, Dame, and if there be a pompion yet not 
 mouldy, put it down to roast in the ashes. 
 Whet Sir Osborn^s dagger, Richard. Is it all 
 done ? — then sit with us, for herein are men all 
 alike. Now tell me, Richard Heartley, while 
 we eat, what has happened to thee this morn- 
 ing, for I learn thou hast been in jeopardy." 
 
 Thus speaking, he carved the bacon with his 
 dagger, and distributed to every one their por- 
 tion, while Sir Osborne Maurice looked on not 
 a little interested in the scene, one of the most 
 curious parts of which was the profound taci- 
 turnity that had succeeded to garrulity in the 
 two old cottagers, and the promptitude and 
 attention with which they executed all their 
 guest's commands. 
 
 The old gentleman's question seemed to un- 
 tie Richard Heartley's lips, and he communi- 
 cated in a somewhat circumlocutory phrase, 
 that though he had built his house and enclosed 
 his garden on common land, which, as he took it, 
 " was free to every one, yet within the last year 
 
DARNLEY. 27 
 
 Sir Payan Wileton had demanded for it a rent 
 of two pounds per annum, which was far be- 
 yond his means to pay, as Sir Payan well knew ; 
 but he did it only in malice," the old man said, 
 " because he was the last of the good old Lord's 
 servants v/ho was left upon the ground, and 
 he, Sir Payan, was afraid, that even if he were 
 to die there, his bones would keep possession 
 for his old master ; so he wished to drive him 
 away altogether.'' 
 
 "Go forth on no account!" interrupted Sir 
 Cesar. " Without he take thee by force and 
 lead thee to the bound, and put thee off, go not 
 beyond the limits of the Lordship of Chilham 
 Castle; neither pay him any rent, but live 
 house free and land free, as I have commanded 
 you/' 
 
 " In truth," answered the old man, "he has 
 not essayed to put me off; but he sent his bailiff 
 this morning to demand the'rent, and to drive 
 me out of the cottage, and to pull off the 
 thatch, though our Richard, who has returned 
 from the army beyond the seas, is up at the 
 manor to do him man service, for the sum." 
 
 " Hold !" cried Sir Cesar ; " let thy son do 
 c 2 
 
2» DARNLEY. 
 
 him man service if he will, but do thou him 
 no man service, and own to him no Lordship. 
 Sir Payan Wileton has but his day— that will 
 soon be over, and all shall be avenged — own 
 him no Lordship, I say !" 
 
 " Nay, nay, Sir, I warrant you,"" replied the 
 old man, " 'twas even that that provoked Peter 
 Wilson, the young bailiff, to strike me, be- 
 cause I said Sir Payan was not my Lord, and 
 I was not his tenant, and that if he stood on 
 right, I had as much a right to the soil as he.*" 
 
 " Strike thee ! Strike thee ! Did he strike 
 thee?'' cried Sir Cesar, his small black eyes 
 glowing like red-hot coals, and twinkling like 
 stars on k frosty night. " Sure he did not dare 
 to strike thee ?" 
 
 " He felled him. Sir Cesar,"*' cried the old 
 woman, whose tongue could refrain no longer ; 
 " he felled him to the ground. He, a child I 
 have had upon my knee, felled old Richard 
 Heartley with a heavy blow !" 
 
 " My curse upon him !" cried the old knight, 
 while anger and indignation gave to his features 
 an expression almost sublime ; " my curse upon 
 him ! May he wither heart and limb like a 
 
DARNLEY. 29 
 
 blasted oak ! like it, may he be dry and sapless, 
 when all is sunshine and summer, without a 
 green leaf to cover the nakedness of his misery ; 
 without flower or fruit may he pass away, and 
 fire consume the rottenness of his core !" 
 
 " Oh ! your worship, curse him not so deeply; 
 we know how heavy your curses fall, and he 
 has had some payment already," said the old 
 cottager : " this honourable gentleman heard 
 my housewife cry, and came riding up. So 
 when he saw the clumsy coward strike a feeble 
 old man like me, he takes me him up by the 
 jerkin and the slops, and casts him as clean 
 over the wall on the heath, as IVe seen Hob 
 Johnson cast a truss out of a hay-cart.^** 
 
 " Sir Osborne you did well," said the old 
 knight ; " you acted like your race. But yet I 
 could have wished that this had not happened ; 
 'twould have been better that your coming had 
 not been known to your enemies before your 
 friends, which, I fear me, will now be the case. 
 He, with whom you have to do, is one from 
 whose keen eye nought passes without question. 
 The fly may as well find its way through the 
 spider's web, without wakening the crafty artist 
 
30 DARNLEY. 
 
 of the snare, as one on whom that man has 
 fixed his eye, may stir a step without his know- 
 ing it. But there is one who sees more deeply 
 than even he does.''' 
 
 " Yourself, of course,'' replied Sir Osborne ; 
 " and indeed I cannot doubt that it is so ; for 
 I sit here in mute astonishment to find that all 
 I held most secret is as much known to you as 
 to myself." 
 
 " Oh, this is all simplicity," replied the old 
 man ; " these are no wonders, though I may 
 teach you some hereafter. At present, I will 
 tell you the future, against which you must 
 guard, for your fortune is a- making." 
 
 " But if our fate be fixed," said Sir Osborne, 
 " so that even mortal eyes can see it in the 
 stars, prudence and caution, wisdom and action, 
 are in vain ; for how can we avoid what is cer- 
 tainly to be .?" 
 
 " Not so, young man," replied Sir Cesar 
 " some things are certain, some are doubtful 
 some fixed by fate, some left to human will 
 and those that see such things as are certain, 
 may learn to guide their course through things 
 that are not so. Thus, even in life, my young 
 
DARNLEY. 31 
 
 friend," he continued, speaking more placidly, 
 for at first Sir Osborne's observation seemed to 
 have nettled him, — " thus, even in life, each or- 
 dinary mortal sees before him but one thing 
 sure, which is death. It he cannot avoid ; yet, 
 how wholesome is the sight to guide us in exist- 
 ence ! So in man's destiny, certain points are 
 fixed ; some of mighty magnitude, some that 
 seem but tri\aal, and the rest are determined by 
 his own conduct. Yet there are none so clearly 
 marked, that they may not be influenced by 
 man's own will, so that when the stars are fa- 
 vourable, he may carry his good fortune to the 
 highest pitch by wisely seizing opportunity ; 
 and when they threaten evil or danger, he 
 may fortify himself against the misfortunes that 
 must occur, by philosophy ; and guard against 
 the peril that menaces, by prudence. Thus, 
 what study is nobler, or greater, or more bene- 
 ficial, than that which lays open to the eye the 
 book of fate r 
 
 The impressive tone and manner of the old 
 man, joined even with the singularity of his 
 appearance, and a certain indescribable, al- 
 most unearthly fire, that burned in his eye. 
 
32 DARNLEY. 
 
 went greatly in the minds of his hearers to sup- 
 ply any deficiency in the chain of his reasoning. 
 The extraordinary, if it be not ludicrous, is 
 always easily convertible into the awful ; and 
 where, as in the present instance, it becomes 
 intimately interwoven with all the doubtful, the 
 mysterious, and the fearful in our state of 
 being, it reaches that point of the sublime to 
 which the heart of every man is most sensible. 
 Those always who know the least of what is 
 true, are most likely to be influenced by what 
 is doubtful ; and in an age where little was 
 certainly known, the remote, the uncertain, and 
 the wild, commanded man's reason by his pas- 
 sions and his fears. 
 
 Sir Osborne Maurice mused. If it be asked 
 whether he believed implicitly in that art which 
 many persons were then said to possess, of read- 
 ing in the stars the future fate of individuals or 
 nations, it may be answered. No. But if it be 
 demanded whether he rejected it absolutely, 
 equally. No. He doubted ; and that was a 
 stretch of philosophy, to which few attained in 
 his day; when the study of judicial astrology 
 was often combined with the most profound 
 
DARN LEY. 63 
 
 learning in other particulars, when, as a science, 
 it was considered the highest branch of human 
 knowledge, and its professors were regarded as 
 almost proceeding a step beyond the just boun- 
 dary of earthly research. We might say even 
 more — when they produced such evidence of 
 their extraordinary powers, as might well con- 
 vince the best-informed of an unlettered age, 
 and which affords curious subjects of inquiry 
 even to the present time. 
 
 In the meanwhile Sir Cesar proceeded : "I 
 speak thus as preface to what I have to tell 
 you ; not that I suppose you will be dismayed 
 when you hear that immediate danger menaces 
 you, because I know you are incapable of 
 fear ; but it is because I would have you wisely 
 guard against what I foretell. Know then, I 
 have learned that you are likely to be in peril 
 to-morrow, towards noon ; therefore, hold your- 
 self upon your guard. Divulge not your pro- 
 ceeding to any one. Keep a watchful eye, and 
 a shrewd ear. Mark well your company ; and 
 see that your sword be loose in the sheath."" 
 
 " Certainly, good Sir Cesar, will I follow 
 your counsel," replied Sir Osborne. '* But, 
 c 5 
 
34 DARNLEY. 
 
 might I not crave that you would afford me 
 farther information, and by showing me what 
 sort of danger threatens me, give me the means 
 of avoiding it altogether P"^ 
 
 " What you ask I cannot comply with,^' an- 
 swered the old man. " Think not that the 
 book of the stars is like a child's horn-book, 
 where every word is clearly spelled. Vague 
 and undefined are the signs that we gain. Cer- 
 tain it is, that some danger threatens you ; but 
 of what nature, who can say ? Know that, at 
 the same time as yourself, were born sixty 
 other persons, to whom the planets bore an 
 equal ascendancy ; and at the same hour to- 
 morrow each will undergo some particular peril. 
 Be you on your guard against yours." 
 
 " Most assuredly I will, and with many 
 thanks,'' replied Sir Osborne. " But I would 
 fain know of what reason you take an interest 
 in my fate more than in any of the other sixty 
 persons you have mentioned." 
 
 " How know you that I do so .?" demanded 
 Sir Cesar dryly. " Perchance had I met any 
 one of them in this cottage, I might have done 
 them the same good turn. However, 'tis not 
 
DARNLEY. 35 
 
 SO. I own I do take interest in your fate, more 
 than that of any mortal being. Look not sur- 
 prised, young man, for I have cause : nay more 
 — you shall know more. Mark me ! our fates 
 are united for ever in this world, and I will 
 serve you, though I see, darkling through the 
 obscurity of time, that the moment which 
 crowns all your wishes and endeavours is the 
 last that I shall draw breath of life. Yet your 
 enemy is my enemy, your friends are my 
 friends, and I will serve you, though I die !" 
 
 He rose and grasped Sir Osborne's hand, and 
 fixed his dark eye upon his face. " 'Tis hard 
 to part with existence — the warm ties of life — 
 the soft smiling realities of a world we know — 
 and to begin it all again in forms we cannot 
 guess. Yet, if my will could alter the law of 
 fate, I would not delay your happiness an hour ; 
 though I know, I feel, that this thrilling blood 
 must then chill — that this quick heart must 
 stop — that the golden light and the glorious 
 world must fade away — and that my soul must 
 be parted from its fond companion of earth for 
 ever and for ever. Yet it shall be so. It is said. 
 Reply not ! Speak not ! Follow me ! Hush ! 
 
36 DARNLEY. 
 
 Hush !" and proceeding to the door of the cot- 
 tage he mounted his palfrey, which stood ready, 
 and motioned Sir Osborne to do the same. 
 
 The young Knight did so in silence, and rode 
 along with him to the garden-gate, followed by 
 the old cottagers. There, Richard Heartley, as 
 if accustomed so to do, held out his hand ; Sir 
 Cesar counted into it nine nobles of gold, and 
 proceeded on the road in silence. 
 
DARN LEY. 37 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 Illusive dreams in mystic forms expressed." 
 
 Blackmore. 
 
 That which is out of the common course of 
 nature, and for which we can see neither cause 
 nor object, requires of course a much greater 
 body of evidence to render it historically cre- 
 dible, than is necessary to authenticate any 
 event within the ordinary operation of visible 
 agents. Were it not so, the many extraor- 
 dinary tales respecting the astrologers, and even 
 the magicians of the middle ages, would now 
 rest as recorded truth, instead of idle fiction, 
 being supported by much more witness than 
 we have to prove many received facts of greater 
 importance. Till the last century, the exist- 
 
38 DARNLEY. 
 
 ence of what is called the second sight, amongst 
 the Scots, was not doubted : even in the present 
 day it is not disproved, and we can hardly 
 wonder therefore at our ancestors having given 
 credence to the more ancient, more probable, 
 more reasonable superstition of the fates of men 
 being influenced by the stars, or at their be- 
 lieving that the learned and wise could see into 
 futurity, when many in this more enlightened 
 age imagine that some of the rude and illiterate 
 possess the same faculty. 
 
 It is not, however, my object here to defend 
 long gone superstitions, or to show that the 
 predictions of the astrologers were ever really 
 verified, except by those extraordinary coin- 
 cidences for which we cannot account, and some 
 of which every man must have observed in the 
 current of his own life. That they w^ere so 
 verified on several occasions, is nevertheless be- 
 yond doubt ; for it is not the case that, in the 
 most striking instances of this kind, as many 
 writers have asserted, the prediction, if it may 
 be so called, was fabricated after its fulfilment. 
 On the contrary, any one who chooses to inves- 
 tigate, may convince himself that the prophecy 
 
DARNLEY. 39 
 
 was, in many instances, enounced, and is still 
 to be found recorded by contemporary wri- 
 ters before its accomplishment took place. As 
 examples might be cited, the prognostication 
 made by an astrologer to Henry the Second of 
 France, that he should be slain in single com- 
 bat, a thing so unlikely, that it became the jest 
 of his whole court, but which was afterwards 
 singularly verified, by his being accidentally 
 killed at a tournament by Montgomery, cap- 
 tain of the Scottish guards. Also the predic- 
 tion, by which the famous, or rather infamous 
 Catherine de Medicis, was warned that St. Ger- 
 mains should be the place of her death. The 
 Queen, fully convinced of its truth, never from 
 that moment set foot in town or palace which bore 
 the fatal name ; but in her last moments, her 
 confessor being absent, a priest was called to her 
 assistance, by mere accident, whose name was 
 St. Germains, and actually held her in his arms 
 during the dying struggle. 
 
 These two instances took place about fifty 
 years after the period to which this history 
 refers, and may serve to show how strongly 
 rooted in the minds of the higher classes was 
 
40 DARNLEY. 
 
 this sort of superstition, when even the revival 
 of letters, and the diffusion of mental light, for 
 very long did not seem at all to affect them. 
 The habits and manners of the astrologers, 
 however, underwent great changes ; and it is, 
 perhaps, at the particular epoch of which we 
 are now writing, namely, the reigns of Henry 
 the Eighth of England, and Francis the First 
 of France, that this singular race of beings was 
 in its highest prosperity. 
 
 Before that time, they had in general affect- 
 ed strange and retired habits, and whether, as 
 magicians, or merely astrologers, were both 
 feared and avoided. Some exceptions, how- 
 ever, must be made to this, as instances are on 
 record, where, even in years long before, such 
 studies were pursued by persons of the highest 
 class, and won them both love and admiration ; 
 the most brilliant example of which was, in 
 the person of Tiphaine Raguenel, wife of the 
 famous Constable du Guesclin, whose counsels 
 so much guided her husband through his 
 splendid career. 
 
 The magicians and astrologers, however, 
 which were scattered through Europe towards 
 
DARNLEY. 41 
 
 the end of the fifteenth century, and the begin- 
 ning of that which succeeded, though few in 
 number, from many circumstances, bore a much 
 higher rank in the opinion of the world than 
 any who had preceded them. This must be 
 attributed to their being in general persons of 
 some station in society, of profound erudition, 
 of courtly and polished manners, and also to 
 their making but little pretension on the score 
 of their supposed powers, and never any dis- 
 play thereof, except they were earnestly soli- 
 cited to do so. 
 
 There was likewise always to be observed 
 in them a degree of eccentricity, if a habitual 
 difference from their fellow-beings might so be 
 called, which being singular, but not obtrusive, 
 gave them an interest in the eyes of the higher, 
 and a dignity in the estimation of the lower 
 classes, as a sort of beings separated by distinct 
 knowledge and feeling from the rest of man- 
 kind. In those ages, a thousand branches of 
 useful knowledge lay hid, like diamonds in an 
 undiscovered mine, and many minds, of extra- 
 ordinary keenness and activity, wanting legi- 
 timate objects of research, after diving deep in 
 
42 DARNLEY. 
 
 the knowledge of the ancients, and exhausting 
 all the treasures of antiquity, still unsated, de- 
 voted themselves to those dark and mysterious 
 sciences, that gratified their imagination with 
 all the wild and the sublime, and gained for 
 them a reverence amongst their fellow-crea- 
 tures, approaching even to awe. 
 
 As we have said before, whatever was the 
 reality of their powers, or however they con- 
 trived to deceive themselves, as well as others, 
 they certainly received not only the respect of 
 the weak and vulgar, but if they used their 
 general abilities for the benefit of mankind, 
 they were sure to meet with the admiration 
 and the friendship of the great, the noble, and 
 the wise. Thus, the famous Earl of Surrey, 
 the poet, the courtier, the most accomplished 
 gentleman, and bravest cavalier of that very 
 age, is known to have lived on terms of inti- 
 macy with Cornelius Agrippa, the celebrated 
 Italian sorcerer, to whose renown the fame of 
 Sir Cesar of England is hardly second, though 
 early sorrows, of the most acute kind, had 
 given a much higher degree of wildness and 
 eccentricity to the character of the extraor- 
 
DARNLEY. 43 
 
 dinary old man, of whom we speak, than the 
 accomplished Italian ever suffered to appear. 
 
 In many circumstances, there was still a 
 great degree of similarity between them : both 
 were deeply versed in classical knowledge, and 
 every elegant attainment, and both possessed 
 that wild and vivid imagination, which taught 
 them to combine in one strange and hetero- 
 geneous system, the pure doctrines of Chris- 
 tianity, the theories of the Pagan philosophers, 
 and the strange mysterious notions of the dark 
 sciences they pursued. Amongst many fancies 
 derived from the Greeks, it seems certain that 
 both Sir Cesar and Cornelius Agrippa received, 
 as an undoubted fact, the Pythagorean doc- 
 trine of the transmission of the souls through 
 various human bodies for a long period of ex- 
 istence, the spirit retaining, more or less, in dif- 
 ferent men, the recollection of events which 
 had occurred to them at other periods of being. 
 One striking difference however existed 
 between these two celebrated men. Cornelius 
 Agrippa was all mildness, gentleness, and sua- 
 vity ; while Sir Cesar, irritated by the memory 
 of much sorrow, was wild, vehement, and im- 
 
44 DARNLEY. 
 
 petuous ; ever striving to do good, it is true, 
 but hasty and impatient under contradiction. 
 The same sort of mental excitement hurried 
 him on to move from land to land, and place 
 to place, without seeming ever to pause for any 
 length of time, and as he stood not upon the 
 ceremony of introduction, but made himself 
 known to whomsoever the fancy of the moment 
 might lead him, he was celebrated in almost 
 every part of the world. 
 
 So much as v^^e have said seemed necessary, 
 in order to give our readers some insight into 
 the character of the extraordinary man whose 
 history is strongly interwoven with the web of 
 the present narrative, and to prevent its being 
 supposed that he was an imaginary being, de- 
 vised for the nonce, and we shall therefore now 
 proceed with him in his proper person. 
 
 " Let us reason,'^ said Sir Cesar, breaking 
 forth abruptly, after he had proceeded with 
 the young Knight some way in silence — " Let 
 us reason of nature and philosophy ; of things 
 that are, and of things that may be ; for I 
 would fain expel from my brain a crowd of 
 
DARN LEY. 45 
 
 sad thoughts and dark imaginings, that haunt 
 the caverns of memory.'*' 
 
 " I should prove but a slow reason er,**' re- 
 plied the young Knight, " when compared with 
 one whose mind, if report speak truth, has long 
 explored the deepest paths of science, and dis- 
 covered the full wealth of Nature." 
 
 " Nay, nay, my friend," answ^ered the old 
 man, " something I have studied it is true; 
 but Nature's full wealth who shall ever discover? 
 Look through the boundless universe, and you 
 shall find, that were the life of man extended a 
 thousand fold, and all his senses refined to the 
 most exquisite perfection, and had his mind 
 infinite faculty to comprehend, yet the por- 
 tion he could truly know, would be to the great 
 whole, as one grain of sand to the vast foun- 
 dation of the sea. As it is, man not only con- 
 templates but few of Nature's works, but also 
 only sees a little part of each. Thus, when he 
 speaks of life, he means but that which inspires 
 animals, and never dreams that every thing has 
 life — and yet it is so. Is it not reasonable to 
 suppose that every thing that moves feels, and 
 
46 DARNLEY. 
 
 we cannot but conclude that every thing that 
 feels has life. The Indian tree, that raises its 
 branches when any living creature approaches, 
 must feel, must have sensation ; the loadstone 
 that flies to its fellow must know, must per- 
 ceive that that fellow is near. Motion is life, 
 and if viewed near, every thing would be found 
 to have motion, to have life, to have sensation."' 
 
 Sir Osborne smiled. " Then do you suppose,'"" 
 demanded he, " that all vegetables and plants 
 feel .?" 
 
 " Nay, more ; much more !" answered the 
 old man. " I doubt not that every thing in 
 Nature feels in its degree, from the rude stone 
 that the mason cuts, to man, the most sensitive 
 of substantial beings." 
 
 "It is a bold doctrine,"' said the young 
 Knight, who, willing to gain what insight he 
 could into his companion's character, pressed 
 him for a still farther exposition of his opinions, 
 though at the same time he himself felt not a 
 little carried away by the energy of manner, 
 and rich modulation of tone with which the 
 old man communicated his singular ideas. " It 
 
DARNLEY. 4i^ 
 
 is a bold doctrine, and would seem to animate 
 the whole of Nature. Could it be proved, the 
 world would acquire a glow of life, and acti- 
 vity of existence, where it now appears cold and 
 silent." 
 
 " The whole of Nature is animated," replied 
 Sir Cesar. " Life, combined with matter, is 
 but a thousandth part of life existent. The 
 world teems with spirits : the very air is thick 
 with them. They dance in the sunshine, they 
 ride upon the beams of the stars, they float 
 about in the melodies of music, they nestle in 
 the cups of the flowers, and I am forced to 
 believe, that never a flower fades, or a beam 
 passes away, without some being mourning the 
 brief date of loveliness on earth. Doubt not, 
 for this is true, and though no one can prove 
 that matter is sensitive, yet it can be proved 
 that such spirits do exist, and that they may 
 be conrpelled to clothe themselves with a vi- 
 sible form. It can be proved, I say, and I have 
 proved it." 
 
 " I have heard the same reported of you," 
 replied Sir Osborne ; " when you, with the re- 
 
48 DARNLEY. 
 
 nowned Cornelius Agrippa, called up a spirit 
 to ascertain what would be the issue of the 
 battle of Ravenna. Was it not so ?"' 
 
 " Speak not of it !'' cried the old man, 
 " Speak not of it ! In that battle fell the 
 bright, the gallant, the amiable Nemours. 
 Though warned by counsel, by prophecy, and 
 by portent, he would venture his life on that 
 fatal battle, and fell. — Speak not of it ! But 
 now to you and yours. — Whither go you ?^^ 
 
 " My first care,'' replied Sir Osborne, " must 
 be to seek my father, at whose wish I have now 
 returned to England. To you, who know far 
 more of me and mine than I ever dreamed that 
 mortal ear had heard, I need not say where my 
 father dwells." As he spoke. Sir Osborne drew 
 up his horse, following the example of his com- 
 panion, whose palfrey had stopped at a point 
 where the road, separating into two branches, 
 gave the traveller the option of proceeding 
 either towards Canterbury or Dover, as his 
 business or pleasure might impel. At the same 
 time the young Knight fixed his eye upon 
 the other's face, as if to ascertain what was 
 
DARNLEY. 49 
 
 passing in his mind, seeking, probably, thence 
 to learn how far the old man's knowledge 
 really extended in respect to himself and his 
 concerns. 
 
 " It is a long journey,"' said Sir Cesar 
 thoughtfully, " and 'twill take you near three 
 weeks to travel thither and back. Much may be 
 lost or won in three weeks. You must not go. 
 Hie on to Dover and thence to London : wait 
 there till I give you farther news, and be sure 
 that my news shall be of some avail." 
 
 " It cannot be,"' answered Sir Osborne Mau- 
 rice. " Before I take any step whatever I 
 must see my father ; and though I doubt not 
 that your advice be good, and your knowledge 
 more than natural, I cannot quit my road, or 
 wait in any place till I have done the journey 
 to which duty and affection call me." 
 
 " Your own will, then, be your guide, though 
 it be a bad one," answered Sir Cesar. " But 
 mark, I tell you, if you pursue the road you 
 are on, you will meet with danger, and will 
 lose opportunity. My words are not wont to 
 faU idly." 
 
 VOL. I. D 
 
50 DARN LEY. 
 
 " Whatever danger may occur," replied Sir 
 Osborne, " my road lies towards London, and 
 it shall not be easy to impede me on my way." 
 
 " Ho ho I so headstrong !" cried the old 
 Knight ; " I' God's name, then, on ! My palfrey 
 goes too slow for your young blood. Put spurs 
 to your steed. Sir, and get quick into the perils, 
 from which you will need my hand to help you 
 out. Spur, spur. Sir Knight ; and good speed 
 attend you." 
 
 '' By your leave, then," replied Sir Osborne, 
 taking the old man at his word, and giving his 
 horse the spur : "Sir Cesar, I thank you for 
 your kindness, we shall meet again,, when I hope 
 to- thank you better, till then farewell !" 
 
 " Farewell, farewell !" muttered the old 
 Knight ; "just the same as ever ! If I remem- 
 ber right, he was killed in the first Punic war, 
 for not taking the advice of Valerius the Sooth- 
 sayer; and though now his soul has passed 
 through fifty different bodies, he is just as 
 headstrong as ever," and with these sage reflec- 
 tions Sir Cesar pursued his way. 
 
 Leaving him, however, to his own meditations, 
 we must now, for some time, follow the track 
 
DARNLEY. 51 
 
 of Sir Osborne Maurice, whose horse bore him 
 quickly along that same little tortuous road, 
 in the midst of which we encountered him in 
 the beginning. To say sooth, some speed was 
 necessary, for whatever might be the cause that 
 induced the young Knight to linger at the 
 cottage of old Richard Heartley, and whatever 
 might be the ideas that had occupied him du- 
 ring so long a reverie, he had wasted no small 
 portion of the day, between listening to the gai- 
 rulity of the old man, thinking over the circum- 
 stances which that garrulity called up to memory, 
 and conversing with the singular being from 
 whom he had just parted ; and yet, within a mile 
 of the spot where he had left the astrologer. Sir 
 Osborne drew in his bridle, and standing in the 
 stirrup, looked round him on both sides over 
 the high bank of earth, which in that place 
 flanked the road on either hand. 
 
 After gazing round for a moment, and mark- 
 ing every trifling object with an attention 
 which was far more than the scenery merited, 
 from any apparent worth or picturesque 
 beauty, he turned his horse into a small bridle- 
 path, and riding on for about a mile, came in 
 d2 
 
52 DARNLEY. 
 
 front of a mansion, which, even in that day, bore 
 many a mark of venerable antiquity. 
 
 A small eminence, at about five hundred 
 yards' distance from it, gave him a full view of . 
 the building, as it rose upon another slight ele- 
 vation, somewhat higher than that on which he 
 stood. Through the trees, which filled up the 
 intermediate space, was seen gliding a small 
 river, that, meandering amongst the copses, now 
 shone glittering in the sun, now hid itself in 
 the shades, with that soothing variety, gay, 
 yet tranquil, placid but not insipid, which is 
 the peculiar characteristic of the course of an 
 English stream. The wind had fallen, the 
 clouds had dispersed, and the evening sun was 
 shining out, as if seducing the early buds to 
 come forth, and yield themselves to his treache- 
 rous smile, and all the choir of Nature was 
 hymning its song of joy and hope in the pros- 
 pect of delightful summer. Above the branches, 
 which were yet scarcely green with the first 
 downy promise of the spring, was seen rising 
 high the dark, octagon keep of Chilham Castle. 
 It was a building of the old irregular Norman 
 construction, and the architect, who probably 
 
DARNLEY. 53 
 
 had forgot that a staircase was requisite till he 
 had completed the tower, had remedied the de- 
 fect, by throwing out from the east side a sort 
 of square buttress, which contained the means 
 of ascending to the various stories of which it 
 was composed. On the west side of the keep, 
 appeared a long mass of buildings of a still 
 more ancient date, surrounded by strong stone 
 walls overgrown with ivy, forming a broken, 
 but picturesque line of architecture, stretching 
 just above the tops of the trees, and considera- 
 bly lower than the tower, while a small de- 
 tached turret was seen here and there, com- 
 pleting the castellated appearance of the whole. 
 Sir Osborne paused, and gazed at it for five 
 or ten minutes in silence, while a variety of 
 very opposite expressions took possession of his 
 countenance. Now it seemed 'that the calm 
 beauty of the scene filled him with thoughts of 
 tranquillity and delight ; now, that the view re- 
 called some poignant sorrow, for something very 
 bright rose and glistened in his eye. At last, 
 his brow knit into a frown, and anger seemed 
 predominant as, grasping the pommel of his 
 sword with his left-hand, he shook his clenched 
 
54 DARNLEY. 
 
 fist towards the antique battlements of the cas- 
 tle, and then, as if ashamed of such vehemence 
 of passion, he turned his horse, and galloped 
 back on the road he came. 
 
 The moment after he had again entered upc.n 
 the road to Canterbury, a sudden change took 
 place in the pace of his horse, and perceiving 
 that he had cast a shoe, the young Knight was 
 forced, although the sun was now getting far 
 west, to slacken his pace ; for the lady who 
 walked over the burning ploughshares would 
 have found it a different story had she tried 
 to gallop over that road without shoes. Pro- 
 ceeding, therefore, but slowly, it was nearly 
 dark when he reached the little village of 
 Northbourne, where, riding up to the smithy, 
 he called loudly for the farrier. No farrier, 
 however, made his appearance ; all was silent, 
 and as black as his trade, and the only answer 
 which Sir Osborne could procure, was at length 
 elicited from one of a score of boys, who, with 
 open eyes and gaping mouths, stood round lis- 
 tening unmoved for a quarter of an hour, while 
 the Knight adjured the blacksmith to come 
 forth and show himself. 
 
DARN LEY. 55 
 
 " Can I have my horse shod here or not, lit- 
 tle varlet ?" cried he at length, to one of the 
 most incorrigible starers. 
 
 "Ye moy, if ye loyke," answered the boy, 
 with that air of impenetrable stupidity which 
 an English peasant boy can sometimes get up 
 when he is half frightened and half sullen. 
 
 " He means, ye moy, if ye can," answered 
 another urchin, with somewhat of a more in- 
 tellectual face, " for Jenkin Thumpum is up 
 at the hostel shoing the merchant's beast, 
 and Dame Winny, his wife, is gone to hold 
 the lantern. He ! he ! he !" 
 
 " Ha ! ha ! ha !" roared his companions, to 
 whose mind Dame Winny holding the lan- 
 tern was a very good joke. " Ha ! ha ! ha I 
 wherever Jenkin Thumpum is, there goes 
 Dame Winny to hold the lantern. Ha ! 
 ha ! ha !" 
 
 " But how far is it to the inn, my good 
 boy .?" demanded Sir Osborne. 
 
 " Oh, it 's for half an hour up the road 
 ye see,'' replied the boy, who still chuckled 
 at his own joke, and wanted fain to repeat it. 
 
56 DARNLEY. 
 
 " But are you sure the blacksmith is there ?^ 
 demanded Sir Osborne. 
 
 " Oy, oy !^' replied the boy, " as sure as 
 eggs are bacon, if he 's not coming back again. 
 So if ye go straight up along, you'll meet 
 Jenkin coming, and Dame Winny holding the 
 lantern. Ha! ha! ha!'' 
 
DARNLEY. 57 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 " The first, forgive my verse if too diffuse, 
 Performed the kitchen's and the parlour's use." 
 
 It was quite dark when Sir Osborne Mau- 
 rice arrived at the gate of the hostel, or inn, 
 which consisted of a long row of low build- 
 ings, running by the side of the road, 
 with a straw-yard at the nearer end ; into 
 this the traveller guided his horse by the light 
 of a horn lantern, which was held by no other 
 person than Dame Winny herself, while her 
 husband. Master Thumpum, pared the hoof 
 of a stout gelding which stood tied to the 
 stable-door. (Things were arranged differ- 
 ently in those days from what they are now.) 
 
 As soon as the good lady heard the sound 
 D 5 
 
58 DARNLEY. 
 
 of a horse's feet entering the court, she raised 
 her melodious voice to notify to the servants 
 of the house a traveller's arrival. 
 
 " Tim Chamberlain ! Tim Chamberlain !'' 
 cried she, " here's a master on horseback." 
 
 The Chamberlain, for by such sonorous title 
 did he designate himself, came forth at the 
 summons, presenting not only the appearance 
 of an ostler, but of a bad ostler too ; and after 
 assisting the Knight to dismount, he took from 
 the saddle the leathern bags, which commonly 
 accompanied a traveller on a journey in those 
 days, and running his hand over the exterior, 
 with the utmost nonchalance, endeavoured to 
 ascertain whether the contents were such as 
 might be acceptable to any of his good friends 
 on the road. 
 
 Sir Osborne's first care was of his horse, 
 which he ordered to be shod, for the purpose 
 of proceeding immediately ; but finding its foot 
 somewhat tender, he at length determined upon 
 passing the night at the inn, rather tlian injure 
 an animal on which his farther journey greatly 
 depended ; and leaving the Chamberlain to ex- 
 amine his bags more at his leisure, he entered 
 
DARN LEY. 59 
 
 the kitchen, which was then the common room 
 of reception. 
 
 Night had by this time rendered the air 
 chilly, and the sight of a large blazing fire, 
 which greeted his eye as he pushed open the 
 door, promised him at least that sort of re- 
 ception for which he was most anxious, as he 
 did not propose to himself any great commu- 
 nion with those who might be within. The 
 apartment was not very inviting, in any other 
 particular than the cheerful blazing of the 
 large logs of wood with which the hearth was 
 strewed, for the floor was of battened mud, 
 and the various utensils which hung round did 
 not do great credit to the hostess' housewifery. 
 
 Much was the confusion which reigned 
 amidst pans, kettles, pots, and plates ; and 
 sundry were the positions of spits, gridirons, 
 and ladles ; in short, it seemed as if the im- 
 plements of cooking had all got drunk after 
 a hard day''s work, and had tumbled over one 
 another the best way they could. From the 
 large black rafters overhead, however, hung 
 much that might gratify the eye of the hungry 
 traveller ; for the kitchen seemed to serve for 
 
60 DARN LEY. 
 
 larder as well as drawing-room. There, might 
 be seen the inimitable ham of York, with mani- 
 fold sides of bacon, and dangling capons, and 
 cheeses store ; and there, too, was the large 
 black turkey, in its native plumes, with end- 
 less strings of sausages, and puddings beyond 
 account. Nor was dried salmon wanting, nor 
 a net full of lemons, nor a bag of peas ; in 
 a word, it was a very comfortably-garnished 
 roof, and in some degree compensated for the 
 dis-array of the room that it overhung. 
 
 In those days, the close of evening was gene- 
 rally the signal for every traveller to betake 
 himself to the nearest place of repose ; and with 
 his circle round the fire, and his own peculiar 
 chair placed in the most approved corner of 
 the vast chimney, mine Host of the inn seldom 
 expected the arrival of any new guest after 
 dark. It was then, if his company were some- 
 what of his own degree, that he would tell his 
 best story, or crack his best joke ; and some- 
 times even, after many an overflowing flaggon. 
 had gone round at the acknowledged expense 
 of his guests, he himself too would club his 
 tankard of toast and ale, for which, it is proba- 
 
DARNLEY. 61 
 
 ble, he found sufficient means to make himself 
 kindly reparation in some other manner. 
 
 In such course flowed by the moments at the 
 inn, when Sir Osborne Maurice, pushing open 
 the door of the kitchen, interrupted the landlord 
 in the midst of an excellent good ghost story, 
 and made the whole of the rest of the party 
 turn their heads suddenly round, and fix their 
 eyes upon the tall, graceful figure of the young 
 Knight, as if he had been the actual apparition 
 under discussion. 
 
 The assembly at the kitchen fire consisted 
 only of six persons. Mine host, as above stated, 
 in his large arm-chair, was first in bulk and 
 dignity. Whether it be or not a peculiar qua- 
 lity in beer to turn every thing which contains 
 a great quantity of it into the shape and de- 
 meanour of a tun, has often struck me as a cu- 
 rious question in natural philosophy ; but cer- 
 tain it is that many innkeepers, but more pe- 
 culiarly the innkeeper in question, possess, and 
 have possessed, and probably will possess, so 
 long as such a race exists, the size, rotundity, 
 profoundness, and abhorrence of locomotion, 
 which are considered as peculiar attributes of 
 
62 DARNLEY. 
 
 the above-named receptacle, as well as the known 
 quality of containing vast quantities of liquor. 
 Mine host was somewhat pale withal, but sun- 
 dry carbuncles illuminated his countenance, 
 and gave an air of jollity to a face whose ex- 
 pression was not otherwise very amiable. 
 
 Next to this dignitary sat a worthy represen- 
 tative of a race now, alas ! long, long extinct, 
 and indeed almost unrecorded. 
 
 Oh, could old Hall or Holinshed have divi- 
 ned that the Portingal captain would ever be- 
 come an animal as much extinct as the mammoth 
 or the mastodon, leaving only a few scattered 
 traces to mark the places through which he 
 wandered, what long and elaborate descriptions 
 should we not have had, to bear at least his 
 memory down to coming ages ! But in the 
 days of those worthy writers, Portugal, or, as 
 they wrote it, Portingal, was the land from 
 which adventure and discovery issued forth 
 over the earth, ay, and over the water too ; 
 and they never dreamt that the flourishing 
 kingdom, whose adventurous seamen explored 
 every corner of the known world, and brought 
 the fruits and treasures of the burning zone 
 
DARNLEY. 63 
 
 to the frigid regions of the north, would ever 
 dwindle away, so as to be amongst the nations 
 of Europe, like a sprat in a shoal of herrings ; 
 or certainly they would h^ave given us a full 
 and particular description of a Portingal cap- 
 tain, from the top of his head down to the sole 
 of his shoe. 
 
 Luckily, however, the learned Vonderbrugius 
 has supplied this defect more to my purpose 
 than any other writer could have done, not 
 only by describing a Portingal captain in the 
 abstract, but the very identical Portingal cap- 
 tain, who there, and at that moment, sat by 
 the fire-side. 
 
 I have already hinted that the learned The- 
 ban's Latin is somewhat obscure, and I will own 
 that the beginning of his definition rather 
 puzzled me : " Capitanus Portingalensis est 
 homo pedibus sex — " 
 
 It was very eary to construe the first four 
 words, like a boy at school ; Capitanus Portin- 
 galensis, a Portugal captain, est homo is a man- 
 That was all very natural, but when it came to 
 pedibus sex, ^vith six feet, I was very much asto- 
 nished, till I discovered that the professor 
 
64 DARN LEY. 
 
 meant thus elegantly to express that he was six 
 foot high. 
 
 But before I proceed with the particular 
 account, it may be necessary to say a word or 
 two upon the general history and qualifications 
 of the Portingal captains of that day. Portu- 
 gal, as has been observed, was then the cradle 
 of adventurous merchantmen ; that is to say, 
 of men who gained an honest livelihood by 
 buying and selling, fetching and carrying, lying 
 and pilfering, thieving wholesale and retail, 
 swearing a great deal, and committing a little 
 mansiaughter when it was necessary. With 
 these qualifications it may well be supposed 
 tha:t the Portingal captains were known and 
 esteemed in every quarter of the globe, except 
 America, and as they were daring, hardy, 
 boasting fellows, who possessed, withal, a cer- 
 tain insinuating manner of giving little presents 
 of oranges, lemons, nutmegs, cinnamon, &c. 
 to the good dames of the houses where they 
 were well-received, as well as of rendering 
 every sort of unscrupulous service to the 
 breeched part of the establishment, it may 
 equally well be supposed that some few people 
 
DARNLEY. 65 
 
 shut them out of their houses, and called them 
 " thievish vagabonds," while a great many took 
 them in, and thought them "nice, good-humour- 
 ed gentlemen/"* 
 
 Freeholders of the ocean, their own country 
 bound them by no very strict laws, and if they 
 broke the laws of any other, they took to their 
 ship, which was generally near, and, like the 
 Greenwich Pensioner, " went to sea again." 
 Speaking a jargon of all languages, accommo- 
 dating themselves to all customs, cheating and 
 pilfering from all nations, and caring not one 
 straw more for one country than another, they 
 furnished the epitome, the beau ideal of a true 
 Citizen of the world. 
 
 The specimen of this dignified race, who oc- 
 cupied a seat between mine host and hostess, 
 was, as we have seen, six feet high, and, what 
 sailors would term, broad over the beam. His 
 neck was rather of the longest, and at the end 
 of it was perched a mighty small head, whose 
 front was ornamented with a large nose, two 
 little dark twinkling eyes, under a pair of 
 heavy black brows, and a mouth of quite suf- 
 ficient size to serve a moderate-minded pair. 
 
66 DARNLEY. 
 
 Any one who has heard of a red Indian, may 
 form some idea of his complexion, which would 
 remind one of a black sheep marked with red 
 ochre ; and from this rich soil sprang forth and 
 flourished a long thin pair of mustachoes, some- 
 thing after the Tartar mode. His dress was 
 more tolerable than his face, consisting of a 
 dark brown doublet, slashed with light green, 
 (much resembling a garden full of cabbage 
 stocks,) with trunks and hosen to correspond ; 
 while in his belt appeared a goodly assortment 
 of implements for cutting and maiming, too 
 numerous to be recited ; and between his legs, 
 as he sat and rocked himself on his chair, he 
 held his long sword, with the point of which he 
 ever and anon raked fresh ashes round a couple 
 of eggs that were roasting on the hearth. 
 
 Smiling on this jewel of a captain, sat our 
 landlady in the next chair, a great deal too 
 pretty to mind the affairs of her house, and a 
 great deal too fine to be very good. Now the 
 captain was a dashing man, and though he did 
 not look tender, he looked tender things ; and 
 besides, he was an old frieiid of the house, and 
 had brought mine hostess many a little senti- 
 
DARNLEY. 67 
 
 mental present from parts beyond the sea, so 
 that she found herself justified in flirting with 
 so amiable a companion, by smiles and glances, 
 while her rotund husband poured forth his ale- 
 inspired tale. 
 
 On the right hand of the hostess stood the 
 cook, skewering up a fine breast of house-lamb, 
 destined for the rere supper of a stout old 
 English clothier, Jekin Groby by name, who, 
 placed in the other seat of honour opposite 
 mine host, leaned himself back in a delicious 
 state of drowsiness between sleeping and wak- 
 ing, just hearing the buzzing of the landlord's 
 story, with only sufficient apprehension left to 
 catch every now and then " the ghost — the 
 ghost,'''' and to combine that idea with strange 
 misty fantasies in his sleep-embarrassed brain. 
 The sixth person was the turnspit-dog, who, 
 freed from his Ixionian task, sat on his rump 
 facing his master, on whose countenance he 
 gazed with most sagacious eyes, seeming much 
 more attentive to the tale than any one else but 
 the cook. 
 
 As I have said. Sir Osborne threw open the 
 door somewhat suddenly, startling all within. 
 
68 DARNLEY. 
 
 Every one thought it was the ghost. The land- 
 lord became motionless ; the landlady scream- 
 ed ; the cook ran the skewer into her hand ; 
 the turnspit-dog barked; Jekin Groby knock- 
 ed his head against the chimney ; and the Por- 
 tingal captain ran one of the eggs through the 
 body with the point of his sword. 
 
 It has been said that a good countenance is a 
 letter of recommendation, and to the taste of 
 mine hostess it was the best that could be given. 
 Thus, after she had finished her scream, and 
 had time to regard the physiognomy of the 
 ghost who threw open the kitchen-door, she 
 liked it so much better than that of the Portin- 
 gal captain, that she got up with her very best 
 curtsey, drew a settle to the fire next to herself, 
 bade the turnspit hold his tongue, and ordered 
 Tim Chamberlain, who followed hard upon Sir 
 Osborne's footsteps, to prepare for his worship 
 the tapestry-chamber. 
 
 " I seem to have scared you all,'' said Sir 
 Osborne, somewhat astonished at the confusion 
 which his entrance had caused : " What is the 
 matter ?" 
 
 " Nay, marry. Sir, 'twas nothing," replied 
 
DARNLEY< bil 
 
 the landlady, with a sweet simper, " but a 
 foolish ghost that my husband spoke oV 
 
 " The foolish ghost has broke my head, I 
 know," said Jekin Groby, rubbing his pole, 
 which had come in contact with the chimney. 
 
 " Nay, then, the ghost was rude, as well as 
 foolish,"' remarked Sir Osborne, taking his seat. 
 
 " Ha ! ha ! well said, young gentleman,'' 
 cried the honest clothier. " Nay, now, I war- 
 rant thou hast a merry heart." 
 
 '' Thou would'st be out," answered Sir Os- 
 borne : " My heart 's a sad one," and he added 
 a sigh, that showed there was some truth in 
 what he said, though he said it lightly. 
 
 " They sayo, that thin doublets cover alway 
 gay heart," said the Portingal captain. " Now, 
 Senhor ! your doublets was not very thick, 
 good youths." 
 
 " Good youth !" said Sir Osborne, turning 
 towards the speaker, whom he had not before 
 remarked, and glancing his eye over his person, 
 " Good youth ! what mean you by that. Sir .?" 
 But as his eye fell upon the face of the Portin- 
 gal, his cheek suddenly reddened very high, 
 and the glance of the other sunk as if quelled 
 
70 DARNLEY. 
 
 by some powerful recollection. " Oh ' ho !" 
 continued the Knight, " A word with you, 
 Sir," and rising, he pushed away the settle, 
 and walked towards the end of the room. 
 
 " Pray don't fight, gentlemen !" cried the 
 hostess, catching hold of the skirt of Sir Os- 
 borne's doublet. " Pray don't fight ! I never 
 could bear to see blood spilled. John Alesop ! 
 Husband ! you are a constable, don't let them 
 fight !" 
 
 " Leave me. Dame, you mistake me. We are 
 not going to fight," said Sir Osborne, leading 
 her back to the fire ; " I merely want to speak 
 one word to this fellow. Come here. Sir !" 
 . The Portingal captain had by this time risen 
 up to his full height, but as he marched 
 doggedly after the young Knight, there was a 
 swinging stoop in his long neck that greatly 
 derogated from the dignity of his demeanour. 
 Sir Osborne spoke to him for some time in a 
 low voice, to which he replied nothing but 
 " Dios ! It 's nothing to I ! Vary well ! Not a 
 word !" 
 
 " Remember, then," said the Knight, some- 
 what louder. " If I find you use your tongue 
 
DARNLEY. 7^ 
 
 more than your prudence, I will slit your 
 ears !" 
 
 " Pan de Dios ! you are the only man that 
 dare to say me so/' muttered the captain, fol- 
 lowing towards the fire, at which the Knight 
 now resumed his seat, and where mine host 
 was expatiating to Jekin Groby, the hostess, 
 the cook, and the turnspit-dog, upon the pro- 
 priety of every constable letting gentlemen set- 
 tle their differences their own way. " For," 
 said he, " what is the law made for ? Why, 
 to punish the offender. Now, if there is no 
 offence committed, there is no offender, then 
 would the law be of no use ; therefore, to make 
 the law useful, one ought to let the offence 
 be committed without intermeddling, which 
 would be rendering the law of no avail." 
 
 " Very true," said his wife. 
 
 " Why, there 's something in it," said Jekin 
 Groby, " for when I was at Court, the King 
 himself ordered two gentlemen to fight. Lord 
 a"* mercy, it seemed to me cruel strange !" 
 
 " Nay, when wert thou at Court, Master 
 Jekin ?" demanded the landlord. 
 
 " Why, have I ate lamb and drank ale at 
 
72 DARNLEY. 
 
 thy house twice every year," demanded the in- 
 dignant clothier, " and know'st thou not, John 
 Alesop, that I am Clothier, otherwise Cloth- 
 merchant, to his Most Gracious Grace King 
 Henry ? And that twice he has admitted me 
 into his dignified presence ? And once that I 
 stayed six weeks at the Palace at Westminster ? 
 Oh, it is a Prince of a King ! Lord a' mercy, 
 you never saw his like !'' 
 
 " Nay, nay, I heard not of it,'' replied the 
 landlord. " But come, Master Jekin, as these 
 gentlemen don't seem inclined to fight, tell us 
 all about the Court, and who you saw there, 
 while the lamb is roasting." 
 
 ^The honest clothier was willing enough to 
 tell his story, and including even the Knight, 
 every one seemed inclined to hear him, except 
 indeed the Portingal captain, who was anxious 
 to recommence his flirtation with Master Ale- 
 sop's dame. But she, having by chance heard 
 a word or two about slitting of ears, turned up 
 her nose at her foreign enamorato, and prepared 
 herself to look at Sir Osborne Maurice, and to 
 listen to Jekin Groby. 
 
 " Oh, it is a prodigious place, the Court !" 
 
DARNLEY. ^S 
 
 said the clothier, " a very prodigious place in- 
 deed. But to my mind, the finest thing about it 
 is the King himself. Never was such a king ; 
 so fine a man, or so noble in his apparel! I 
 have seen him wear as many as three fresh 
 suits a day. Then for the broidery, and the 
 cloth of gold, and the cloth of silver, and the 
 coats of goldsmiths^ w^ork ; there was a world 
 of riches ! And amongst the nobles too, there 
 was more wealth on their backs than in their 
 hearts or their heads, I'll warrant. The nobi- 
 lity of the land is quite cast away, since the 
 youngsters went to fetch back the Lady Mary 
 from France, after her old husband the French 
 King died. None but French silks worn ; 
 and good English cloth, forsooth, is too coarse 
 for their fine backs ! And then the French 
 fashions, too, not only touch the doublet, but 
 affect the vest, and the nether end, so that 
 what with chamfred edging, and short French 
 breeches, they make such a comely figure, 
 that except it were a dog in a doublet, you 
 shall not see any so disguised as our young 
 nobility." 
 
 While the good clothier proceeded, the 
 VOL. I. E 
 
74 DARNLEY. 
 
 Pcrtingal had more than once fidgetted on 
 his seat, as if with some willingness to evade 
 the apartment, and at length had risen and 
 was quietly proceeding towards the door, when 
 the eye of Sir Osbom Maurice fixed upon him, 
 with a sort of stern authority in its glance, 
 which he seemed well to understand, for with- 
 out more ado, he returned to his settle, and 
 showed as if he had merely risen to stretch 
 the unwieldy length of his legs, by a turn 
 upon the floor. 
 
 In the mean time, Jekin Groby went on. 
 
 " It is a lewd age and a bad, I wot, and 
 the next will be a worse, seeing that all our 
 young gallants are so full of strange fantasies 
 — that is not to say all, for there is the young 
 Earl of Derby, God bless his noble heart ! he 
 is an honest one and a merry, and right Eng- 
 lish to the core. One day he meets me in the 
 ante-chamber, where I had always leave to stand 
 to see all the world go in and out, and he says 
 to me, ' honest Jekin Groby,' says he, ' dost thou 
 stand here in the ante-room, waiting for my Lord 
 Cardinars place if he should chance to die ?' 
 * Nay, my good Lord,' I was bold to an- 
 
DARNLEY. 7^ 
 
 swer, ' I know that here I am out of place, 
 yet my Lord Cardinal's would not suit me. 
 So then he laughed ; ' why not ?"* says he, ' for 
 certainly thou art of the cloth.' — But hark ! 
 they are crying in the court." 
 
 The honest clothier was right, for sundry 
 sounds began to make themselves heard in the 
 court-yard, announcing the arrival of no incon- 
 siderable party, who, if one might judge by the 
 vociferation of the servants, were people that 
 made some noise in the world. 
 
 Up started mine host, as well as his ro- 
 tundity would let him, up started mine host- 
 ess, and out rushed the cook ; while, at the 
 saine moment, a bustling lacquey, with riding- 
 whip in hand, pushed into the kitchen, ex- 
 claiming, " What's this ! what's this ! but one 
 tapestried room, and that engaged ? Nonsense ! 
 it must be had, and shall be had, for my young 
 lady and her woman !" 
 
 " A torch ! a torch !" cried a voice without. 
 '' This way, lady. The rain is coming on very 
 hard ; we shall be much better here." 
 
 All eyes turned towards the door with that 
 anxious curiosity which every small body of hu- 
 £ 2 
 
76 DARN LEY. 
 
 man beings feels, when another person is about 
 to be added to the little world of the moment. 
 But fastidious, indeed, must have been the 
 taste that could have found any thing unpleas- 
 ing in the form that entered. It was that of a 
 sweet, fair girl, in the spring of womanhood : 
 every feature was delicate and feminine, every 
 limb was small and graceful, yet with that 
 rounded fulness, which is indispensable to per- 
 fect beauty. Her colour was not high, but it 
 was fine ; and when she found herself before so 
 many strangers, it grew deeper and deeper, till 
 it might have made the rose look pale — 
 
 I hate long descriptions — She was lovely, 
 and I have said enough. 
 
 By this time the hostess had advanced, and a 
 venerable old man in a clerical robe had fol- 
 lowed into the room, while mine host himself 
 rolled forward to see what best could be done 
 for the accommodation of the large party, that 
 seemed willing to honour his inn with their 
 presence. 
 
 " I heard something about the best chamber 
 oeing engaged," said the young lady, in a voice 
 that sweetly corresponded with her person, at 
 
DARN LEY. 77 
 
 the same time turning half towards the hostess, 
 half towards the clergyman ; " I beg that I may 
 disturb no one, any chamber will do for me and 
 my woman, if you think we cannot reach the 
 Manor to-night. "" 
 
 '• Ay ! but if we can have the best chamber, 
 I donH see why not, lady," said the lady's- 
 maid, who by this time had followed. 
 
 Sir Osborne Maurice advanced. " If it is to 
 me," said he, " that the best chamber has been 
 assigned, I shall feel myself honoured in re- 
 signing it to a lady, but infinitely more, if my 
 memory serves me right, and that lady be 
 Lady Constance de Grey." 
 
 "Good heaven, Master Osborne Maurice!" 
 said the lady, colouring again with evidently 
 no very unpleasant feelings ; " I thought you 
 were in Flanders. When did " 
 
 But she had no time to finish her phrase, for 
 the old clergyman cast himself upon Sir Os- 
 lx)rne's neck, and wept like a child. " My 
 dear Osborne," cried he, " how ? when ? where ? 
 — But I am a fool — how like you have grown 
 to your dear lady mother. — Pardon me, my 
 Lord — I mean, Sir— I don't know what I'm 
 
78 DARNLEY. 
 
 talking of. — But you know you were my first 
 pupil, and like my child — and I never thought 
 to see you again before my old eyes were 
 covered with the dust. Alack ! alack ! what a 
 fine man thou art grown. 'Tis just five years, 
 come May, since you came to take leave of me 
 at the house of this my honoured lady's father ; 
 and, mind you, how you taught her to shoot 
 with the bow, and how pleased my good lord 
 her father was to see you." 
 
 " I have not forgot one circumstance of the 
 kind hospitality I then received,"" said Sir Os- 
 borne, " and never shall, so long as I have 
 memory of any thing." 
 
 ' " Ay, but she has lost the archery," said the 
 old clergyman. '' She has lost it entirely." 
 
 '^ But I have not lost the bow. Master Os- 
 borne," said the lady, with a smile : " I have it 
 still, and shall some day relearn to draw it." 
 
 There was a strange difference between the 
 manner of the clergyman and that of the lady, 
 when addressing the young knight. Lady Con- 
 stance evidently saw him with pleasure, but 
 she seemed to feel, or to suppose, that there 
 existed between them a difference of rank, 
 
DARNLEY. 79 
 
 which made some reserve on her part neces- 
 sary ; while, on the contrary, the old man gave 
 way to unlimited joy at meeting w^ith his for- 
 mer pupil, though qualified by an air of re- 
 spect and deference, which mingled strangely 
 with the expressions of fondness that he poured 
 forth. 
 
 By this time, the host and hostess having 
 removed from the fire, and the Portingal Cap- 
 tain having quietly sHpped away in the bustle, 
 no one remained near it but Jekin Groby, and 
 he not being very terrific of aspect, Lady Con- 
 stance placed herself in one of the vacant seats, 
 till such time as her chamber should be pre- 
 pared. Sir Osborne wrung the old tutor's 
 hand affectionately, and whispered, while he 
 followed to the side of Lady Constance, " I 
 have a world to say to you, and much upon 
 which to consult you."' 
 
 " Good, good !'' replied the old man, in the 
 same subdued tone, " when the lady has re- 
 tired." 
 
 Having seated themselves round the fire, the 
 conversation vi^as soon renewed, especially be- 
 tween the tutor and Sir Osborne. Lady Con- 
 
80 DARN LEY. 
 
 stance sometimes joining in, with her sweet mu- 
 sical voice, and her gentle engaging manner, 
 and sometimes falling into deep reveries, which 
 seemed not of the happiest nature, if one might 
 judge by the grave, and even sad cast, that her 
 countenance took, as she fixed her eyes upon 
 the embers, and appeared to study deeply the 
 various forms they offered to her view. 
 
 In the mean time, the clergyman gradually 
 engaged Sir Osborne to detail some of the ad- 
 ventures which he had met with during the 
 five years that he had served in the Imperial 
 army, then combating in Flanders ; and there 
 he spoke of " moving accidents by flood and field, 
 of hair-breadth 'scapes in the imminent deadly 
 breach,"" and of much that he had seen, mingled 
 with some small portions of what he himself 
 had done ; and yet when he told any of his 
 own deeds that had met with great success, he 
 took care to attribute all to high good fortune, 
 and a happy chance. It was thus, he said, 
 that, by a most lucky coincidence, he happened 
 to take two standards of the enemy, before the 
 eyes of the late Emperor Maximilian, who, as 
 
DARN LEY. 81 
 
 a recompense, honoured him with kniglithood 
 from his own sword, 
 
 " Indeed !*" exclaimed Lady Constance, 
 waking from her reverie, " then I do con- 
 gratulate you most sincerely. The road to for- 
 tune and to fame is now open to you, Sir 
 Osborne, and, I feel sure — I know that you will 
 reach the goal." 
 
 '' A thousand thanks, lady, for your good 
 augury," replied the Knight ; '• nor do I lack 
 hope, though there are so many competitors in 
 the field of fame, that the difficulty of v/inning 
 renown is increased. In the army of Flanders, 
 there is many an aspirant, with whom it is hard 
 to contend." 
 
 " True," replied Lady Constance ; " but 
 even that makes the contention more honour- 
 able. Oh ! v^e have heard of that army, and 
 its feats of arms, even here. We cannot be 
 supposed to have received the names of all 
 who have done high deeds; but, they say, 
 that the young Lord Darnley, the son of the 
 unhappy Earl Fitzbernard, is realizing the 
 tales of the knights of old. You must have 
 E 5 
 
82. DARNLEY. 
 
 met him, Sir Osborne Maurice. Do you know 
 him .?" 
 
 " I cannot say that I know him well," re- 
 plied the Knight, " though we have served 
 long in the same army. He has gained some 
 renown, it is true, but there are many men at 
 arms as good as he." 
 
 " I know not well why," said Lady Con- 
 stance after a pause, " but I have always been 
 much interested in that young gentleman's his- 
 tory. The unexpected, and seemingly unde- 
 served train of misfortunes that fell upon his 
 house, and the accounts that all men give of 
 his gallantry and daring, his courtesy and ac- 
 complishments, have made him quite one of my 
 heroes of romance." 
 
 Whether it be true that very high praises of 
 another will frequently excite some small de- 
 gree of envy, even in the most amiable minds, 
 matters not; but Sir Osborne did not seem 
 very easy in his chair, while Lady Constance 
 recited the high qualities of his companion in 
 arms. " I have heard," replied he at length, 
 *' that the fame which Lord Darnley has ac- 
 quired, either justly or unjustly, has even 
 
DARNLEY. 83 
 
 reached the ears of our Sovereign Lord the 
 King, and has worked much in favour of those 
 claims, which his family make to their forfeited 
 estates. It is well known that his Grace is the 
 flower of this world's chivalry ; and as the 
 young Lord is somewhat skilful in the tournois, 
 and at the barriers, the King has, I hear, ex- 
 pressed a wish to see him, which, if he should 
 come over, may turn favourably to his cause." 
 
 " God grant it may !"' said Lady Constance, 
 " although I have never seen the young gentle- 
 man, and though the person who now holds his 
 estates is cousin to my deceased father " 
 
 " Good God ! is it possible ?''"' exclaimed Sir 
 Osborne, " that my Lord your father is dead ? 
 But I might have divined it from seeing you 
 here alone." 
 
 Lady Constance sighed. *' I am indeed alone 
 in all the world," said she. " My father has 
 been dead these three years. My Lord Car- 
 dinal Wolsey claims me as ward of the Crown, 
 and as I am now in my one-and-twentieth year, 
 he calls me to a place I hate— the Court. 
 Knowing no one there, loved of no one there, 
 I shall feel like an inexperienced being in a sad 
 
84 DARNLEY. 
 
 strange world. But when the time comes that 
 I may command my own actions, if they will 
 ever let me do so, I will return to my father's 
 halls, and live amongst my own tenantry. But 
 to change a painful subject ; my good father," 
 she continued, turning to the clergyman, " were 
 it not well to send a messenger to Sir Payan 
 Wileton, to let him know that we shall not 
 arrive at his house to night, though we will 
 take our forenoon meal with him to-morrow." 
 
 The old clergyman seemed somewhat embar- 
 rassed. " I know not what t ) do," said he. 
 " ' Twould be better not to go at all, — yet 
 what can be done ? You promised to go as 
 you went to London, and one ought always to 
 keep one's promise. So what can the lady 
 do ?" and he turned abruptly to Sir Osborne, 
 not so much as if he asked his advice, as if he 
 made him an apology. 
 
 " Why, the lady had certainly better keep 
 her word," answered Sir Osborne, with a smile ; 
 " but you know, my good old friend, that I 
 cannot judge of the circumstances." 
 
 " Ay, true ; I forgot," answered the other. 
 " She must go, I am afraid, though she knows 
 
DARN LEY. 85 
 
 what the man is, and dislikes him as much as 
 any one " 
 
 At this moment the chamberlain entered, 
 with Lady Constance's woman, announcing that 
 the tapestry chamber was now warmed and 
 lighted ; and the young lady left them, with 
 many apologies to Sir Osborne, for depriving 
 him of his apartment. 
 
 " 1 warrant you, madam,'' said Tim Cham- 
 l>erlain, '* his worship will be well lodged ; for 
 'tis but the next room to that he had, and 'tis 
 all as good, bating the tapestry." 
 
 "I am a soldier, lady," said Sir Osborne, 
 " and not much accustomed to tapestry to my 
 chamber, without it be the blue hangings of 
 the sky, spangled with the starry broidery of 
 Heaven ; but, in truth, I wish they had given 
 me but a tramper's garret, that I might at 
 least have had some merit in giving up the 
 room." 
 
 As the honest clothier, Jekin Groby, who 
 was little heedful of ceremony, still sat by the 
 fire, though apparently dipped deeply in the 
 lethean stream of an afternoon's doze, the con- 
 versation of Sir Osborne Maurice with his old 
 
86 DARN LEY. 
 
 tutor, could not be so private as they could have 
 wished, especially as the cook and the chamber- 
 lain were bustling about laying forth a table for 
 the rere supper, and two or three lacqueys who 
 had accompanied the Utter of Lady Constance, 
 were running in and out, endeavouring to make 
 as much noise as possible about nothing. How- 
 ever, they found an opportunity to appoint a 
 place of meeting in London, to which both 
 were journeying, and it was agreed that the 
 first arrived, should there wait for the other. 
 Many questions concerning the state of Eng- 
 land did Sir Osborne ask of the old man, for 
 whom he seemed to entertain both reverence 
 and. love ; and deeply did he ponder all the an- 
 swers he received. Often also did the tutor look 
 anxiously in the face of the young Knight, and 
 often did Sir Osborne return it with the same 
 kind of hesitating glance, as if there were some 
 subject on which they both wished to speak, 
 yet doubted whether to begin. 
 
 At length Sir Osborne spoke out, more to 
 the Clergymen's thoughts than his words. 
 "We will talk of all that hereafter in Lon- 
 don," said he, " 'twere too long to expose now 
 
DARNLEV. 87 
 
 ■ — but tell me one thing ; know you, my good 
 father, a celebrated man called in Italy, Cesario 
 il dotto ? — Is he to be trusted ? — For I met 
 with him to-day, when he much astonished me, 
 and much won upon my opinion ; but I knew 
 not how far I might confide in him, though he 
 is certainly a most extraordinary man."" 
 
 "Trust your life in his hands,'' exclaimed 
 the tutor. " He is your father's best and dear- 
 est friend, and never has he ceased his efforts 
 to serve him. We used much to dispute, for I 
 am bound by my calling to hold his studies as 
 evil, but certainly his knowledge was wonderful 
 and his intentions were good. God forgive him 
 if he err in his opinions ! as in truth he does, 
 holding strange fantasies of many sorts of spi- 
 rits, more than the Church allows, with various 
 things, altogether heretical and vain. But as 
 I have said, trust him with your life, if it be 
 necessary ; for he is a true friend and a good 
 man, although his knowledge and his art be 
 altogether damnable and profane." 
 
 " 'Tis strange I never heard my father name 
 him," said Sir Osborne. 
 
 " Oh ! he bore another name once," replied 
 
88 DARN LEY. 
 
 the tutor, " which he changed when he first 
 gave himself to those dangerous studies, that 
 have since rendered him so famous. It is a 
 custom among such men to abjure their name ; 
 but he had another reason, being joined in a 
 famous conspiracy some thirty years ago."*' 
 
 " Why," said Sir Osborne, " he does not 
 seem a very old man now.'' 
 
 " He is fully eighty," replied the Clergyman, 
 '^ and there is the wonder, for he seems never 
 to change. For twenty years he was absent 
 from England, except when he came to be pre- 
 sent at your birth. At length every body had 
 forgotten him but your father, and he is now 
 only .known by the name of Sir Cesar. Yet 
 strange as it may seem, he is received and 
 courted by the great, he knows the secrets and 
 affairs of every one, and possesses much influ- 
 ence even in the Court. It is true I know his 
 former name, but under so strict a vow to con- 
 ceal it, that it can never pass my lips." 
 
 " But how came he present at my birth ?" 
 demanded Sir Osborne, whose curiosity was 
 now highly excited. 
 
DARNLEY. 89 
 
 "He came to calculate your nativity,'' re- 
 plied the tutor, " which he did upon a scroll of 
 parchment" 
 
 " Fifty-six yards long by three yards broad," 
 said Jekin Groby waking, " which makes just 
 
 one hundred and sixty eight, yaw Bless 
 
 me, I forgot ; is supper ready ? Host, host ! 
 Cook, serve quick, and these gentles will take 
 a bit of my lamb, I am sure." 
 
 " I thank you, good Sir," said the Knight, 
 " but I must to bed for I ride betimes to-mor- 
 row." 
 
 " So do, I 'faith," said the clothier, " and by 
 your leave, Sir Knight, 111 ride with you, if 
 you go toward to Lunnun, for my bags are well 
 lined, and company 's a blessing in these days of 
 plunder and robbery." 
 
 " With all my heart," replied Sir Osborne, 
 so that you have your horse saddled by half 
 past five, we will to Canterbury together." 
 
 " Well, ni be ready. 111 be ready," said the 
 clothier; "but sure youll stay and taste the lamb 
 and ale ? See how it hisses and crackles ! Oh 
 'tis a rare morsel, a neck of lamb ! Stay, stay." 
 
90 DARNLEY. 
 
 " I thank you, 'tis not possible," replied the 
 Knight; "good night, my excellent old friend,'' 
 he continued, pressing the tutor's hand, " we 
 shall soon meet, then, at the house of your re- 
 lation, Doctor Butts ; till then, farewell ! 
 
DARNLEY. 91 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 *' You have the captives, 
 
 Who were the opposites of this day's strife : 
 We do require them of you, so to use them 
 As we shall find their merits and our safety 
 May equally determine." 
 
 Shakspeare. 
 
 The chamber of Sir Osborne Maurice was 
 next to that of Lady Constance de Grey, and 
 from time to time he could hear through the 
 partition the sweet murmuring of her voice, 
 as she spoke to the woman who undressed her. 
 Whatever were the thoughts those sounds called 
 up, the young soldier did not sleep, but lay 
 }X)ndering over his fate, his brain troubled by a 
 host of busy meditations, that would not let 
 him rest. It was not that he either was in 
 love with Lady Constance, or fancied himself 
 in love with her, though he neither wanted ar- 
 
92 DARNLEY. 
 
 dour of feeling, nor quickness of imagination ; 
 and yet he thought over all she said with 
 strange sensations of pleasure, and tried to draw 
 the graceful outline of her figure upon the blank 
 darkness of the night. And then again he called 
 up the fortnight that he spent some five years be- 
 fore, at the mansion of her father when he had 
 gone thither to bid farewell to his old tutor ; 
 and he remembered every little incident as 
 though 'twere yesterday. Still all the while, 
 he never dreamed of love. He gave way to 
 those thoughts as to a pleasant vision, which 
 filled up sweetly the moments till sleep 
 should fall upon his eyelids ; and yet he found 
 that the more he thought in such a train, the 
 less likely was he to slumber. At length the 
 idea of the Portingal captain crossed his mind, 
 and he strove to fix at what moment it was that 
 that worthy had quitted the kitchen of the inn, 
 by recalling the last time he positively had been 
 there. He tried, however, in vain, and in the 
 midst of the endeavour he fell asleep. 
 
 The sun had fully risen by the time Sir Os- 
 borne woke, and finding himself later than he 
 had intended, he dressed himself hurriedly and 
 
DARN LEY. 93 
 
 ran down to the court, where he met the honest 
 clothier, already prepared to set out. His own 
 horse, thanks to the care of Jekin Groby, had 
 been accoutered also ; and as nothing remained 
 for him to do but to pay his reckoning and 
 depart, all was soon ready, and the travellers 
 on the road. 
 
 "Ah! ha! Sir knight,'' said the clothier, 
 with good-humoured familiarity, as Sir Osborne 
 sprung into the saddle,, " what would they say 
 in camp, if it were known that Jekin Groby, 
 the Kentish clothier, was in the field before 
 you. Ha ! ha ! ha ! that 's good. And you 
 talked, too, of being off by cock-crow. Lord 
 'a mercy ! poor old Chanticleer has almost 
 thrown his own neck with crowing, and you 
 never heeded his piping."" 
 
 •* I have been very lazy,'' said the knight, 
 " and know not, in truth, how it has happened. 
 But tell me, honest master Groby, did you re- 
 mark last night at what hour it was that the 
 vagabond Portingallo took his departure .'*" 
 
 " Why, 'twas just when my young lady, 
 Mistress Constance, came in," said the clothier; 
 " He slipped away, just as I've seen a piece of 
 
94 DARNLEY. 
 
 cloth slip off a shelf, fold by fold, so quietly 
 that no one heard it, till, flump ! it was all gone 
 together. But bless us,*" he continued, " how 
 comical ! our horses are both of a colour. 
 Never did I see such a match, only mine has 
 
 got a white foot, which is a pity Bought 
 
 him in Yorkshire when I went down after the 
 cloth. Them damned cheats, however, painted 
 me his white foot, and 'twas not till I'd had 
 him a week that I saw his foot begin to change 
 colour. Vast cheats in Yorkshire. Steal a 
 man''s teeth out of his head if he sleeps with his 
 mouth open.*" 
 
 " It is a good horse though," said Sir Os- 
 borne ; " rather heavy in the shoulder. But it 
 is a good strong horse, and would bear a man 
 at arms well, I doubt not." 
 
 Jekin Groby was somewhat of a judge in 
 horseflesh, notwithstanding his having been 
 gulled by the Yorkshire jockeys : and what was 
 more, he piqued himself upon his knowledge, 
 so that he soon entered upon a strain of con- 
 versation with Sir Osborne, which could only 
 be interesting to connoisseurs. This continued 
 some way as they trotted along the road, which 
 
DARN LEY. 95 
 
 offered no appearance of any thing bearing the 
 human form divine, till they came to a spot 
 where the way had been cut between two high 
 banks, formed of chalky soil mingled with veins 
 of large flints. On the summit of one of these 
 banks was perched a man, who seemed looking 
 out for something, as he stood motionless, ga- 
 zing down the road towards them. Upon his 
 shoulder he carried a pole, or stave, as it was 
 called, some thirteen feet long, with a sharp 
 iron head, such as was frequently carried by 
 the people of the country in those days, serving 
 both as a means of aggression and defence, and 
 also as a sort of leaping pole wherewith they 
 cleared the deep ditches by which the country 
 was in many parts intersected. The man him- 
 self was apparently above the ordinary height. 
 Whoever he was, and whatever was his occu- 
 pation, no sooner did he see the travellers, than 
 descending the bank by means of the veins of 
 flint, which served him as steps, he ran on as 
 hard as he could, and then turning off" through 
 a little stile, was seen proceeding rapidly across 
 a field beyond. 
 
 *' Did you remark that fellow with his long 
 
96 DARN LEY'. 
 
 pole?'' demanded Sir Osborne. "We have 
 frightened him : look, he runs." 
 
 " He is vexed to see more than one at a time, 
 Sir Knight,'' replied Jekin Groby. " God's 
 fish ! I am glad I had your worship with me." 
 
 " Why he can mean us no harm," said Sir 
 Osborne. " The moment a man flies, he changes 
 from your enemy and becomes his own. But 
 that fellow was evidently looking out for some 
 one : now if he know not that you are tra- 
 velling here with your bags well lined, as you 
 express it, which doubtless you are too wise a 
 man to give notice of, to every one, he cannot be 
 watching for us, for my plunder would not be 
 worth his having. T rather think that he is 
 some fellow hawking foul, by the long stave 
 he has on his shoulder." 
 
 " It may be so," replied the cloth-merchant. 
 " One is bound to think charitably and never 
 to judge rashly ; but i' faith, I am mistaken if 
 he is not a vast rogue. As to their not know- 
 ing that my bags are pretty full of angels, trust 
 them for that. No one is robbed without the 
 consent of the chamberlain or hostler where 
 last he lodged. The moment you are off your 
 
DARNLEY. 97 
 
 beast, they whip you up your cap-case or 
 budget, as it may happen, and if they can't find 
 out by the weight, they give it a shake, after 
 such a sort as to make the pieces jingle. Then 
 again, as for his pole or stave, as you term 
 it, those fellows with their staves are so com- 
 monly known for robbery on the roads, that 
 no honest man rides without his case of dags 
 at his saddle-bow, or something of the kind to 
 deal with them out of reach of their pike, which 
 sort of snapper, truly, I see your worship has 
 got as well as myself." 
 
 " Oh, you need not fear them," said Sir Os- 
 borne, somewhat amused at the alarm of the 
 clothier, though willing to allay it. " You are 
 a stout man, and I am not quite a school boy." 
 
 " Oh, I fear them ? I don't fear them !" re- 
 plied Jekin, affecting a virtue which he had 
 not; for though, in truth, not very sensible to 
 fear of a mere personal nature, yet his terror 
 at the idea of losing his angels was most pious 
 and exemplary. " A couple of true men are 
 worth forty of them ; and besides, the fellow 
 has run away. — So now to what I was telling 
 your worship about the horse. He cleared the 
 
 VOL. I. F 
 
98 DARNLEY. 
 
 fence and the ditch on t'other side; but then there 
 was again another low fence, not higher, nor — 
 let me see — not higher nor — Zounds ! there 's 
 Longpole again — Lord how he runs ! — he^s a 
 poaching, sure enough.'' — But to continue — 
 
 During the next mile's journey, the same 
 occurrence was repeated four or five times, till 
 at last the appearance of the man with the 
 stave, whom Jekin Groby had by this time 
 christened Longpole, was hardly noticed either 
 by the Knight or his companion. In the mean- 
 time the horsemen proceeded but slowly, and 
 at length reached a spot where the high bank 
 broke away, and the hedge receding, left a 
 small open space of what appeared to be com- 
 mon ground. Its extent perhaps might be 
 half an acre, lying in the form of a decreas- 
 ing wedge between two thick hedges, full of 
 leafless stunted oaks, terminated by a clump 
 of larger trees, which probably hung over a 
 pond. Thus it made a sort of little vista, 
 down which the eye naturally wandered, rest- 
 ing upon all the tranquil homely forms it 
 presented, with perhaps more pleasure than a 
 vaster or a brighter scene could have afforded. 
 
DARNLEY. 99 
 
 Sir Osborne looked down it for a moment, 
 then suddenly reined in his horse, and point- 
 ing with his hand, cried to Jekin Groby, who 
 was a little in advance, " I see two men hiding 
 behind those trees, and a third there in the 
 hedge. Gallop quick ; His an ambush." 
 
 The clothier instantly spurred forward his 
 horse, but his passage was closed by two 
 sturdy fellows, armed with the sort of staves 
 which had obtained for their companion the 
 name of Longpole. Animated with the same 
 courage in defence of his angels that inspires 
 a hen in protection of her chickens, Jekin 
 Groby drew forth his dags, or horse-pistols, 
 and with the bridle in his teeth, aimed one at 
 the head of each of his antagonists. The ag- 
 gressors jumped aside, and would probably 
 have let him pass, had he not attempted too 
 boldly to follow his advantage. He pulled the 
 triggers, the hammers fell, but no report en- 
 sued, and it was then he felt the folly of not 
 having well examined his arms before he left 
 the inn. 
 
 In the mean while Sir Osborne Maurice was 
 not unemployed. At the same moment that 
 F 2 
 
100 DARNLEY. 
 
 Jekin had been attacked, a man forced his way 
 through the hedge, and opposed himself to the 
 Knight, while sundry others hastened towards 
 them. Sir Osborne's first resource was his pis- 
 tol, which, hke those of the clothier, had been 
 tampered with at the inn. But the Knight 
 lost not his presence of mind, and spurred on 
 his horse even against the pike. The animal, 
 long accustomed to combat where still more 
 deadly weapons were employed, reared up, and 
 with a bound brought the Knight clear of the 
 stave, and within reach of his adversary, on 
 whose head Sir Osborne discharged such a 
 blow with the butt-end of his pistol as laid 
 him senseless on the ground. 
 
 With a glance of lightning, he saw that at 
 least a dozen more were hurrying up, and that 
 the only chance left was to deal suddenly with 
 the two, who were now^ in a fair way to pull the 
 clothier off his horse, and having dispatched 
 them, to gallop on with all speed. Without 
 loss of a moment, therefore, he drew his sword 
 and spurred forward. • One of honest Jekin's 
 assailants instantly faced about, and with his 
 
DARNLEY. 101 
 
 pike rested on his foot, steadfastly opposed the 
 Cavalier. However, he was not so dextrous 
 in the use of his weapon, that Sir Osborne 
 could not by rapidly wheeling his horse obtain 
 a side view of the pike, when by one sweeping 
 blow of his long sword he cleft it in twain. 
 One moment more and the unhappy pikeman's 
 head and shoulders would have parted com- 
 pany, for an arm of iron was swaying the edge 
 of the weapon rapidly towards his neck, when 
 suddenly a powerful man sprang up on the 
 Knight's horse behind, and pinioned his arms 
 with a force, which, though it did not entirely 
 disable him, saved the life of his antagonist. 
 
 Using a strong effort, Sir Osborne so far dis- 
 engaged his arm as to throw back the pommel of 
 his sword into the chest of this new adversary, 
 who in a moment was rolling in the dust ; but 
 as he fell, another sprang up again behind the 
 Knight, and once more embarrassed his arms : 
 others seized the horse's bridle, and others 
 pressed upon him on every side. Still Sir 
 Osborne resisted, but it was in vain. A cord 
 was passed through his arms, and gradually 
 
102 DARNLEY. 
 
 tightened behind, in spite of his struggling, 
 where being tied, it rendered all farther efforts 
 useless. 
 
 Hitherto not a word had been spoken by 
 either party. It seemed as if, by mutual un- 
 derstanding, the attacking and the attacked had 
 forborne any conversation upon a subject which 
 they knew could not be decided by words. 
 
 At length, however, when they had pulled Sir 
 Osborne Maurice off his horse, and placed him 
 by the side of Jekin Groby, who had now long 
 been in the same situation, the tallest of the 
 party, evidently no other than the agreeable 
 gentleman that had watched them along the 
 road with such peculiar care, and whom we 
 shall continue to call Longpole, advanced, hold- 
 ing his side, which was still suffering from the 
 pommel of Sir Osborne's sword, and, after re- 
 garding them both, he addressed himself to the 
 Knight, with much less asperity than might 
 have been expected from the resistance he had 
 met with, " Thou hit'st damned hard !'' said he, 
 " and I doubt thou hast broken one of my ribs 
 with thy back-heave. Howsoever, I know not 
 which of you is which, now I Ve got you. 
 
DARNLEY. 103 
 
 Faith, they should have described me the men, 
 not the horses ; both the horses are alike." 
 
 *' Is your wish to rob us or not ?"'"' said Sir 
 Osborne ; " because, in robbing us both, you 
 are sure to rob the right. Only leave us our 
 horses, and let us go ; for to cut our throats 
 will serve you but little." 
 
 " If I wished to rob thee, my gentleman," 
 answered Longpole, " I 'd cut thy throat too, 
 for breaking my companion"'s head, who lies 
 there in the road as if he were dead, or rather 
 as if he were asleep, for he 's snoring like the 
 father-hog of a large family, the Portingallo 
 vagabond ! However, I'll have you both away, 
 then those who sent to seek you will know 
 which it is they want. Hollo ! there, knock 
 that fellow down that 's fingering the bags. If 
 one of you touch a stiver, I 11 make your skins 
 smart for it." 
 
 " I see several Portingals," said Sir Osborne, 
 " or I mistake. Is it not so ?" 
 
 " Ay, Portingals and Butchers, and such 
 like, mixed," replied Longpole. " But come, 
 you must go along." 
 
 A light now broke upon the mind of Sir Os- 
 
104 DARNLEY. 
 
 borne. " Listen," cried he to the Englishman, 
 as he was preparing to lead them away; " How 
 comes it that you Englishmen join yourselves 
 with a beggarly race of wandering vagabonds, 
 to revenge the quarrel of a base-born Portin- 
 gallo Captain upon one of your own country- 
 men ? Give me but a moment, and you shall 
 hear whether he did not deserve the punishment 
 I inflicted;' 
 
 Longpole seemed willing to hear, and one or 
 two others came round, while the rest employed 
 themselves in quieting the Knight's horse, that, 
 finding himself in hands he was unaccustomed 
 to, began plunging and kicking most violently. 
 
 '" I will be short," said the Knight. " This 
 Portingal had agreed to furnish a cargo of 
 fruits to the Imperial Army in Flanders ; 'tis 
 now two years ago, for we had a malignant 
 fever in the camp. He got the money when 
 they were landed, and was bringing them up 
 under a small escort, which I commanded, 
 when we found our junction cut off by the right 
 wing of the enemy's army, which had wheeled. 
 The greatest exertion was necessary to pass 
 round through a hollow way ; the least noise. 
 
DARNLEY. 105 
 
 the least flutter of a pennon, would have be- 
 trayed us to the French out-posts, who were 
 not more than a bow-shot from us ; when our 
 Portingal stopped in the midst, and vowed he 
 would not go on, unless I promised to pay him 
 double for the fruit, and not to tell any body of 
 what he had done. If I had ran my lance 
 through him, as I was tempted, his companions 
 would have made a noise, and we were lost, so 
 I was obliged to promise. He knew he could 
 trust the word of an English Knight, so he 
 went on quietly enough, and got his money ; 
 but then I took him out into a field, and, after 
 a struggle, I tied him to a tree, and lashed him 
 with my stirrup leathers till his back was flayed. 
 He was not worth a Knight's sword, or I 
 would have swept his head ofl: But tell me, is 
 it for this a party of Englishmen maltreat their 
 countrymen ?""* 
 
 " You served him right, young Sir,"' an- 
 swered Longpole; " and I remember that malig- 
 nant fever well, for I was then fletcher to Sir 
 John Pechie's band of horse archers. But, 
 nevertheless, you must come along, for the Por- 
 tingallo and his men only lend a hand in taking 
 F 5 
 
106 DARN LEY. 
 
 you to Sir Pay an Wileton, who tells us a very 
 different story, and does not make you out a 
 Knight at all." 
 
 Sir Osborne replied nothing, (for it seemed 
 that the name of Sir Pay an Wileton showed 
 him reply was in vain,) but suffered himself to 
 be led on in silence by Longpole and five of his 
 stoutest companions, while the rest v^ere direct- 
 ed to follow with Jekin Groby and the two 
 horses, as soon as the Portuguese, whom the 
 Knight had stunned, should be in a fit state to 
 be removed. 
 
 For some way Sir Osborne was conducted 
 along the high road without any attempt at con- 
 cealment on the part of those who guarded him, 
 and even at a short distance from the spot 
 where the affray had happened, they stopped to 
 speak with a carter, who was slowly driving his 
 team on to the village, " Ah ! Dick," said he, 
 addressing Longpole ; " what hast been at ?" 
 
 " Why, faith," answered the other, " I don't 
 well know. It 's a job of his Worship's. You 
 know he has queer ways . with him ; and when 
 he tells one to do a thing, one knows well 
 enough what the beginning is, but what the end 
 
DARNLEY. 107 
 
 of it is to be no one knows but himself. He 
 says that this gentleman is the man that excited 
 the miners on his Cornish lands to riot and in- 
 surrection, and a deal more, so that he will 
 have him taken. He don't look it, does he ? If 
 it had been to-morrow, I 'd not have gone upon 
 the thing, for to-day my sworn service is out." 
 
 " Ay ! ay !'' said the other, " 'tis hard to 
 know Sir Payan. How somdever, he has got all 
 the land round about, one way or t'other, and 
 every thing must yield to him ; for no one ever 
 withstood him but what some mischance fell 
 upon him. Mind you how when young Davors 
 w^ent to law with him, and gained his cause, 
 about seven acres field, he was drowned in the 
 pond when out hawking not a year after. Do 
 not cross him, man ! Do not cross him ! For 
 either God's blessing or the Devil's is upon him, 
 and you '11 come to harm some way if you do." 
 
 " I'll not cross him, but I'll leave him," 
 said Longpole ; " for I like neither what 1 see 
 or hear of him, and less what I do for him. 
 So, fare thee well, boy." 
 
 Sir Osborne Maurice had fallen into a pro- 
 found reverie, from which he did not awake 
 
108 DARN LEY. 
 
 during the whole of the way. The astrologer's 
 prediction of approaching evil, and a thousand 
 other circumstances, of still more painful pre- 
 sage, came thronging upon his mind, and took 
 away from him all wish or power, either to 
 question his conductors, or to devise any plan 
 for escape, had escape been possible. 
 
 The way was long, and the path which Long- 
 pole and his companions followed, led through a 
 variety of green fields and lanes, silent and soli- 
 tary, which gave the young Knight full time to 
 muse over his situation. Had he given credit to 
 the words of his conductor, and, for an instant, 
 supposed that the reason of his having been so 
 suddenly seized, was the charge of instigating a 
 body of Cornish miners to tumult, he would have 
 felt no apprehension ; for he knew it would be 
 easy to clear himself of crimes committed in a 
 county which he had never seen in his life. 
 But Sir Osborne felt, that if such a charge were 
 brought forward, it would merely be as a pretext 
 to place him in the power of his bitterest enemies. 
 
 The manner in which he had been made a 
 prisoner, so different from the open fair course 
 of any legal proceeding ; the persons who had 
 
DARN LEY. 109 
 
 seized him bearing no appearance of officers 
 of the law ; the doubt that the chief of them 
 had himself expressed as to the veracity of the 
 charge, and the presence of a set of smuggling 
 Portuguese sailors, all showed evidently to Sir 
 Osborne that his detention solely originated in 
 some deep wile of a man famous for his daring 
 cunning and his evil deeds. Yet, still know- 
 ing the full extent of^his danger, and blessed 
 with a heart unused to quail to any circum- 
 stance of fate, the Knight would have felt no 
 apprehension, had not odd little human nature, 
 who always keeps a grain or two of superstition 
 in the bottom of her snufF-box, continually re- 
 minded him of the prophecy of his singular 
 companion of the day before, and reproached 
 him for not having followed the advice, which 
 would infallibly have removed him from the 
 difficulties by which he was now surrounded. 
 The mysterious vagueness, too, the shadowy 
 uncertainty of the predicted evil, which seemed 
 even now in its accomplishment, in despite of 
 all his efforts, weighed upon his mind ; and it 
 was not till the long heavy brick front of an 
 old manor-house met his view, giving notice 
 
110 DARNLEY. 
 
 that he was near the place of his destination, 
 that he could arouse his energies to encounter 
 what was to follow. 
 
 The large folding doors, leading into a stone 
 hall, were pushed open by his conductors, and 
 Sir Osborne was brought in, and made to sit 
 down upon a bench by the fire. One or two 
 servants only were in the hall, and they, unlike 
 the persons who brouglit him, were dressed in 
 livery, with the cognizance of Sir Payan, a 
 snake twisted round a crane, embroidered on 
 the sleeve. " His worship is in the book-room, 
 Dick,'' said one of the men, " take your pri- 
 soner there."" 
 
 These few words were all that passed, for 
 an ominous sort of silence seemed to hang over 
 the dwelling and affected all within it. With- 
 out reply, Longpole led the young Knight for- 
 ward, followed by two of those who had assisted 
 in securing him, and at the end of a long cor- 
 ridor, which terminated the hall, knocked at a 
 door in a recess. 
 
 " Come in V cried a voice within, and the 
 moment after Sir Osborne found himself con- 
 fronted with the man whose name we have 
 
DARN LEY. Ill 
 
 often had occasion to mention, with but little 
 praise, in the course of the preceding pages, Sir 
 Payan Wileton. He was seated in an arm-chair, 
 at the farther end of the small book-room, 
 which, all petty as it was, when compared with 
 the vast Hbraries of the present day, offered a 
 prodigy in point of literary treasure, in those 
 times when the invention of the press had made 
 but little progress towards supei seding the pain- 
 ful and expensive method of manual transcrip- 
 tion. About an hundred volumes, in gay bind- 
 ings of vellum and of velvet, ornamented the 
 shelves, and two or three others lay on a table 
 before him, at which also was seated a clerk, 
 busily engaged in writing. 
 
 Sir Payan himself was a man of about fifty, 
 of a deep ashy complexion, and thin, strongly 
 marked features. His eyes were dark, shrewd, 
 and bright, and sunk deep below his brows, in 
 the midst of which was to be observed a pro- 
 found wrinkle, which gave his face a continual 
 frown. His cheek bones were high, his hair 
 short and grizzled, and his whole appearance 
 had perhaps more of sternness than of cunning. 
 
 On the entrance of Sir Osborne Maurice, for 
 
112 DARNLEY. 
 
 a moment no one spoke, and the two Knights 
 regarded each other in silence, with an austere 
 bitterness that might have spoken them old 
 enemies. But while he gazed on the young 
 Knight, Sir Payan's hand, which lay on some 
 papers before him, gradually contracted — clench- 
 ed harder and harder, till at length the red 
 blood in his thin knuckles vanished away, and 
 they became white as a woman's by the force of 
 the compression. But it was in vain ! Sir Os- 
 borne's glance mastered his, and dashing his 
 hand across his brow, he broke forth. 
 
 " So this is he who excited my tenants and 
 labourers to revolt against the King in that 
 unfortunate Cornish insurrection, and who led 
 them on to plunder my bailiffs dwelling, and 
 to murder my bailiff ! Clerk, make out in- 
 stantly the warrant for his removal to Cornwall, 
 with copies of the depositions taken here, that 
 he may be tried and punished for his crimes on 
 the spot where they were committed.'' 
 
 " Sir Payan Wileton," said the Knight, still 
 regarding him with the same steady determined 
 gaze, " we meet for the first time to-day, but I 
 think you know me." 
 
DARNLEY. 113 
 
 -' I do, Sir, I do !'' replied Sir Pay an, with- 
 out varying from the hurried and impatient 
 manner in which he had spoken at first ; "I 
 know you^ for a rebellious instigator to all kinds 
 of mischief, and for a homicide. Speak, Rich- 
 ard Heartley, did the prisoner offer any resist- 
 ance ? Has he added any fresh crimes to those 
 he has already perpetrated ?" 
 
 " Resist !" cried Longpole ; " Ay, your Wor- 
 ship, he resisted enough, and broke one of the 
 Portingallo's heads, but not more than was na- 
 tural or reasonable. The other one resisted too, 
 yet it was easy to see that this one was of gentle 
 blood, which was what your Worship wanted, 
 I doubt. But however, as they were both 
 mounted on strong black horses, such as your 
 honour described, we brought them both up.'" 
 
 " Umph !" said Sir Payan, biting his lip— 
 " there were two, were there ?''^ and he mut- 
 tered something to himself. " Send me here, 
 
 the Captain or Wilson, the bailiff. It 
 
 must be ascertained which is which — though 
 there can be no doubt— there can be no doubt !'^ 
 
 " Mark me, Sir Payan Wileton,'' said Sir Os- 
 borne, the moment the other paused. " Mark 
 
114 DARNLEY. 
 
 me, and take good heed before you too far com- 
 mit yourself; we know each other, and there- 
 fore a few words will suffice. Five people in 
 England are aware of my arrival, and equally 
 aware of where I slept last night, and when 
 I set out this morning. Judge, therefore, whe- 
 ther it will not be easy to trace me hither, and 
 to free me from your hands."" 
 
 Sir Payan Wileton had evidently been agi- 
 tated by some strong feeling on first beholding 
 the young Knight, but by this time he had 
 completely mastered it, and his face had re- 
 sumed that rigid austerity of expression, with 
 which he was wont to cover all that was passing 
 in his mind. 
 
 - " Railing, Sir, and insinuations will be found 
 of no use here," he said, calmly. " Clerk, make 
 good speed with those warrants. — Oh, here is 
 Wilson. Now, Wilson, look at the prisoner 
 well, and tell me if you are sure that he is the 
 person who assaulted you yesterday, and who 
 led the miners when they burned your father's 
 house in Cornwall. Look at him well !" 
 
 The young man, whom it may be remem- 
 bered Sir Osborne Maurice had despatched so 
 
DARNLEY. 115 
 
 unceremoniously over the wall of old Richard 
 Heartley's garden, now advanced, and regarded 
 the Knight with a triumphant grin. 
 
 " Oh, ho, my brave bird ! what you 're limed, 
 are you," he muttered, and then turning to Sir 
 Payan : " Yes, your Worship, 'tis he," he con- 
 tinued, " I 'am ready to swear that 'twas he led 
 the men that burned Pencriton House, and 
 that threw me over the wall, because I struck 
 old Heartley for calling your Worship an 
 usurping traitor and " 
 
 But at that moment Longpole laid a grasp 
 upon his collar that almost strangled him. 
 
 " You struck my father, did you !" exclaimed 
 he ; " then pray God to make all your bones as 
 soft as whit-leather, for if they 're but as crisp 
 as buttered toast, I '11 break every one in your 
 skin !" 
 
 " Silence !" cried Sir Payan Wileton; " Si- 
 lence, Heartley ! if your father has been 
 struck, I will take care he shall have satisfac- 
 tion." 
 
 " With your Worship's good leave I will 
 take care of it myself," replied Longpole. " I 
 never trust any one to give or to receive a 
 
116 DARNLEY. 
 
 drubbing for me. I like always to calculate 
 my own quantity of crabstick." 
 
 "Silence!" said Sir Payan; "again I say 
 silence ! My good Richard, I assure you, yovi 
 shall be satisfied. Clerk, swear Wilson to the 
 depositions he made. Oh, here is the Portin- 
 gallo. Captain, is that the man you remem- 
 ber having seen in Cornwall when you were 
 last there .?" 
 
 "Yes, yes, el Pero ! that was himself!*" cried 
 the Captain ; " I sawed him at the ale-house at 
 Penzance with my own eye, when I went to 
 fetch the cargo of coal." 
 
 " You mean of tin. Captain,'' said Sir Payan. 
 
 " Yes, yes, of ten," replied the Portuguese. 
 " It was just ten, I remember." 
 
 Sir Osborne's patience was exhausted. 
 
 " Vagabond ! thief!" cried he, " do you re- 
 member my scourging you with the stirrup 
 leathers in Flanders, till there was not an inch 
 of skin upon your back ?" 
 
 " Yes, yes, that was your turn," said the 
 Captain ; "I scourge you .now." 
 
 " Remark what he says," cried Sir Osborne, 
 
DARNLEY. 117 
 
 to those who stood round, " and all of you bear 
 witness in case '''' 
 
 " Prisoner, you stand committed," cried Sir 
 Pay an, in a loud voice. " Take him away ! 
 Suffer him not to speak ! Richard Heartley, 
 place him in the strong-room at the foot of the 
 staircase, and having locked the door, keep 
 guard over him. Captain, stay you with me ; 
 all the rest go." 
 
 The commands of Sir Payan were instantly 
 obeyed, and the room being cleared, he pressed 
 his hands before his eyes, and thought deeply 
 for some moments. 
 
 "He is mine!" cried he at length, "he is 
 mine I And shall I let him out of my own 
 hands now that I have him — when 'twould be 
 so easy to furnish him with a hook and a halter 
 wherewith to hang himself, as the good Chap- 
 lain and John Bellringer did to the heretic 
 Hun in the Lollards' Tower last year ? — But no, 
 that is too fresh in the minds of men, and too 
 many suspicions are already busy — So, my Cap- 
 tain — I forgot — Sit down, my good Captain. I 
 am, as we agreed, about to give this young 
 
118 DARNLEY. 
 
 man into your hands to take to Cornwall. — 
 Why do you laugh ?**' 
 
 " He, he ! Cornwall !'' cried the Captain ; " I 
 do not go in Cornwall." 
 
 "Nay, some time in your life you will pro- 
 bably voyage to Cornwall, as well as to other 
 lands," said Sir Payan. " Now, 'tis the same to 
 me, whether you take him there now, or a hun- 
 dred years hence : you may carry him all over 
 the world if you will, and drop him at the 
 antipodes." 
 
 " I understand, I understand," replied the 
 Portingal ; " You have much need to get rid 
 of him, and you give him to me. Well, I 
 will take your present, if you give me two 
 hundred golden angels with him" — Sir Payan 
 nodded assent. " But let me understand quite 
 all well," continued the Captain : " You want 
 me to take him to Cornwall. There is one 
 Cornwall at the bottom of the sea; do you 
 mean that ?" 
 
 " 'Twere fully as good as the other," said 
 Sir Payan ; " if the journey were short, and the 
 conveyance sure." 
 
 " Two cannon-shot will make it a quick pas- 
 
DARNLEY. 119 
 
 sage," replied the Captain ; " but they must be 
 made of gold, my good Worship." 
 
 " Why of gold ?" demanded Sir Pay an — 
 " Oh ! I catch your meaning. But you grow 
 exorbitant." 
 
 " Not I," said the Portingal ; " I only ask 
 two hundred angels more. Why, an indul- 
 gence will cost me half the pay. It's very dear 
 drowning a man. If you like me to take him 
 and leave him in Turkey with the Ottomites, I 
 will do it for the two ; but if I send him to 
 Cornwall, he ! he ! he ! you shall give me four." 
 
 "But how shall I know that it is donei^" 
 said Sir Payan, thoughtfully ; " but that must 
 be trusted to. You are not such a child as to 
 be pitiful. Me7i know how to avenge them- 
 selves, and you heard his boast of having 
 scourged you. If you be a man, then, do not 
 forget it." 
 
 " Forget it !" cried the Portingal, his dark 
 brows knitting till they almost hid his eyes; 
 " give me the order under your hand and fear 
 not." 
 
 " What ! an order to murder him !" cried 
 Sir Payan : " Think you my brain is turned .?" 
 
120 
 
 DARNLEY. 
 
 " No, no ! You have the wrong," said the 
 Portingal ; "I mean an order to take him to 
 Cornwall — It shall be very easy to drop him 
 by the way. If I was exorbitant, as you call 
 me, I had make you pay more, because for 
 why ? I know you would eat your hand to 
 get rid of him ; else why have you make me 
 bring you news of him when he was in Flan- 
 ders ? Why you pay three spies two crowns 
 the month to give you news every step he took ? 
 — Oh ! I know it all : but it is this ; I am an 
 honest merchant and no rogue, and when I pop 
 him in the sea, I do a little bit of my own busi- 
 ness, and a big bit of yours, so I do not charge 
 you so much as if it was all yours. Is not that 
 hjonest ?" 
 
 "Honest!" said Sir Payan, with a grim 
 smile ; " Yes, very honest. But mark me. Sir 
 Captain. I '11 have some assurance of you. 
 Thus shall it be. I'll give you a warrant to 
 take him to Cornwall, but you shall sign me a 
 promise to drop him overboard by the way, 
 so that there be no peaching; for when our 
 necks are in the same halter, each will take care 
 
DARNLEY. 121 
 
 not to draw the cord on his fellow, lest he be 
 hanged himself." 
 
 " Well, well,'' said the Portingal, " that 's 
 all right. No fear of me, and you will not for 
 your own sake. But look here, Sir Pay an. 
 What have you intended to do with the other 
 man that was taken with him, as they tell me, 
 who was at the inn-house, and will tell it to 
 all the world ? He 's the fat clothier ; give him 
 to me too, and let my men have the clearing 
 of his bags. You owe them something for the 
 the job, and one has had his head broke, and 
 will die by the time he is aboard. Besides, 
 they were never paid for bringing you up the 
 whole cargo of strong wine, five years past» 
 which was paid for by Dudley, the seques- 
 trator." 
 
 " Then he should have paid for the carriage,*' 
 said Sir Pay an. 
 
 " But he never got it !" cried the Portingal. 
 " You kept all, when you heard he was in 
 prison, good Sir Pay an ; and when they did 
 take his head off, you drank the wine yourself. 
 But, say, will you, or will you not, let my 
 men have all that is inside that fat cloth- 
 
 VOL. I. G 
 
122 DARNLEY. 
 
 man's bags, and I will take him, so that 
 you shall never see him again ? if not, your 
 whole business shall soon be known by every 
 body in the world, by his tongue."" 
 
 Sir Payan thought for a moment. " It 
 must e'en be so," said he at length. " Take 
 him, but do not hurt him ; and as to his bags, 
 do as you like."*' 
 
 " Oh, hurt him, no !" answered the other. 
 " In six months he shall be so good a sailor 
 as any of the others, and two thousand miles 
 away. But we must get off to-night. I will 
 go down, get the boat close under the cliffs, 
 and be back by about one o'clock in the morn- 
 ing. Have all ready against I come, the gold 
 and the order — warrant, as you call it, and all ; 
 and lock all my men up in the big granary, 
 with a thing of bacon, and a big cask of liquor ; 
 so shall they be all drunk before three, and 
 asleep by four, and sober again by the while I 
 am back, and nobody hear any thing about 
 their being here at all." 
 
 " That you must do yourself before you go,"** 
 said Sir Payan. " In the mean time, I must 
 
DARNLEY. 123 
 
 take care that the prisoners be kept out of 
 sight, for a lady cousin is to be here by noon, 
 and neither she nor hers must hear of this. I 
 myself must be away. She came not yester- 
 day, when she should have come ; and fain 
 would I pick a quarrel with her house, for 
 they have lands too near my own to be any 
 others than my own. So, though I have or- 
 dered her a banquet, yet shall she be served 
 with scanty courtesy — then, if one word of anger 
 fall from her — there shall more follow.'' 
 
 " Oh ! if I be here when she shall come," said 
 the Portingal, " I will give her some cause 
 either to be pleased or angry.'' 
 
 'f What wilt thou do, fellow ?'' demanded Sir 
 Payan, sternly. " Beware ! remember she is 
 of my blood." 
 
 " Oh, nothing, nothing," replied the cap- 
 tain ; " only tell her some little compliment 
 upon her beauty. But, my good worship, can 
 you trust all your men about these prisoners T 
 
 ''All! all!" replied Sir Payan. "There 
 is no fear. No one of them but I could hang 
 one way or another, and they know it. All 
 G 2 
 
124 DARNLEV. 
 
 except Heartley, and he is bound to me by an 
 illegal oath, wrung from him by fear of seeing 
 his father driven out this hard winter. But 
 'tis past noon now. — Ho ! without there ! Send 
 in my clerk. What, are the horses saddled ? 
 Farewell, Sir Portingal, till one i' the morning.'' 
 
DARNLEY. 125 
 
 CHAPTER VI 
 
 " Thrice had I loved thee 
 Before I knew thy face or name : 
 So in a voice, so in a shapeless flame, 
 Angels affect us oft, and v^^orshipped be." 
 
 DoN^E. 
 
 The place to which Sir Osborne Maurice 
 was conveyed, when the servants, according to 
 their master's commands, removed him from 
 the book-room, was a large dark chamber, run- 
 ning along beneath the whole extent of the 
 principal staircase, and some way into one of 
 the towers beyond. The old manor-house, 
 which, for many reasons. Sir Pay an still in- 
 habited, even after dispossessing Lord Fitz- 
 bernard of Chilham Castle, although built of 
 bri ck, in a more modern style than the ancient 
 
126 DARNLEY. 
 
 holds of the feudal nobility, had not entirely 
 abandoned the castellated architecture formerly 
 in use. Here and there, upon the long front of 
 the building, was fastened a large square tower, 
 useless as a defence, and inconvenient as a dwel- 
 ling; and at every angle appeared an impost- 
 humous watch-turret, of a redder brick than 
 the rest, like warts upon the face of a drunkard. 
 The curse of small windows also was upon the 
 house, making it look as sombre without, as 
 it was dark and gloomy within, and the thick 
 leafless wood that swept round it on both sides, 
 excluded great part of that light which might 
 otherwise have found its way into the gloomy 
 mansion. 
 
 -Darker than all the rest was the chamber to 
 which Sir Osborne Maurice was conveyed ; the 
 whole of that part, which was under the stair- 
 case, receiving no light whatever, except from 
 the other half that, placed in one of the square 
 towers, possessed the privilege of an unglazed 
 window, near the ceiling. It would be difficult 
 to say for what purpose this chamber was ori- 
 ginally contrived; but it is probable, that at 
 the tinae the house was built, (during the con- 
 
DARNLEY. 127 
 
 tentions of York and Lancaster,) such rooms 
 might be necessary, even in priyate-houses, 
 both as places of strength or concealment, al- 
 though too weak to resist long attack, and too 
 easy of discovery to afford any very secure 
 lurking-place. The use to which Sir Payan 
 Wileton applied it, was in general that of a 
 prison for deer- stealers and other offenders, 
 who came before him in his magisterial capa- 
 city, which offenders he took care should ever 
 be as numerous as there were persons, of the 
 lower orders, who opposed or displeased him. 
 
 The men who conducted the young Knight, 
 shut the door immediately upon him; and 
 thus being left to ruminate over his fate, with 
 his arms still tightly pinioned behind him, 
 and scarcely light sufficient to distinguish any 
 objects which the room contained, it may well 
 be conceived that his meditations were not of 
 the most pleasant description. But, neverthe- 
 less, indignation had roused his spirit, and he 
 no longer felt that depression of mind, and 
 abandonment of hope, which, for a time, 
 had overpowered him. His first thoughts, 
 therefore, were now of escape and revenge, 
 
128 DARNLEY. 
 
 but for the moment no means presented them- 
 selves of either ; and though he searched round 
 the apartment, ascertaining the nature and 
 extent of his prison, which only consisted of 
 that room and a large closet, containing some 
 straw, no chance whatever of flight from thence 
 presented itself, and he was obliged to wait in 
 hopes of circumstance proving his friend. 
 
 In about half an hour, the voice of Sir 
 Payan Wileton was heard without, giving va- 
 rious orders, and a moment after the tramp- 
 ling of horses sounded as if passing by the 
 window. To Sir Osborne, accustomed for 
 several years to watch with warlike acuteness 
 evfery motion of a shrewd and active enemy, 
 these sounds gave notice that his persecutor 
 was gone for the time, and even the circum- 
 stance of his absence excited in the bosom of 
 the young Knight fresh expectation of some 
 favourable opportunity. 
 
 Hardly had Sir Payan departed, when the 
 lock, which might well have fastened the door of 
 some antediluvian giant, squeaked harshly with 
 the key, and the tall fellow, whom we have deno- 
 minated hitherto, and shall still continue to de- 
 
DARNLEY. 129 
 
 nominate, Longpole, entered, and pushed the 
 door behind him. 
 
 " The deviPs gone out on horseback," said 
 he, coming near Sir Osborne, and speaking 
 low, " and I have just got a minute to thank 
 your worship," 
 
 " To thank me, my friend !" said Sir Os- 
 borne, somewhat doubting the man'*s meaning ; 
 " what for should you thank me ?" 
 
 " For throwing a man over the hedge that 
 struck my father," said Longpole, " and by 
 that I see you are a true heart, and a gentle- 
 man — and a Knight into the bargain, I am sure, 
 in spite of all Sir Payan's tales, and his minion's 
 false swearing; and if I were not his sworn 
 servant, I'd let you off this minute, if I could 
 find a way." 
 
 " But is it not much worse to aid in so black 
 a plot as this, than to leave this vile suborner, 
 who is not your born master, and never can 
 be lawfully, if you be the son of old Richard 
 Heartley. Only hear me." 
 
 "Nay, Sir Knight," said Longpole; ""faith, 
 I must not hear you, for I must mind my oath, 
 and do as Vm bid, though it be the devil bids 
 G 5 
 
130 DARN LEY. 
 
 me. — I only came to thank you, before I 
 brought the other prisoner here, and to tell you, 
 that though I have forgotten and forgiven many 
 hard knocks, I never forget a good turn, and 
 that you ^11 find, whatever you may think now. 
 Every dog has his day, but the dog-days don't 
 last all the year.''' 
 
 After this quaint hint he waited for no reply, 
 but quitted the room as fast as possible, and in 
 a moment after returned, pushing in the unfor- 
 tunate Jekin Groby almost drowned in his own 
 tears 
 
 *' Here, I \e brought your worship a great 
 baby," cried Longpole, before he closed the 
 door, " who has wasted as much salt water in five 
 minutes, as vv^ould have pickled a side of bacon.'' 
 
 As soon as they were alone, Sir Osborne 
 attempted to comfort the unhappy clothier as 
 far as he could, assuring him that he had no- 
 thing to fear, for that he was not in the least 
 the object of the attack, which had only com- 
 prised him, on account of his being present at 
 the time. 
 
 *^' But my bags ! my bags !" blubbered Jekin 
 Groby ; " they've got my bags — Four hundred 
 
DARNLEY. 131 
 
 and twelve golden angels, and a pair of excel- 
 lent shears, oh ! oh ! oh ! I know it ""s along of 
 you that I Ve got into the scrape. Oh, dear ! 
 oh, dear ! Why the devil didn't you tell me 
 you had made the Cornish men revolt, then I 
 wouldn't have gone with you ; I'd ha' seen you 
 damned first. But I '11 tell King Henry and 
 Lord Darby, I will — and I '11 have back my 
 angels, I will — Lord ! Lord ! to think of my 
 being committed for aiding and abetting Os- 
 borne Maurice, alias Osborne Darling, alias 
 Jenkins, alias Thompson, alias Brown, alias 
 Smith, to make the Cornish folks revolt — I that 
 was never there in my life." 
 
 " Nor I either," said the Knight, calmly. 
 
 '* Why they all swear you were !" cried Jekin 
 Groby, leaving off weeping, " and that you 
 and five hundred miners burnt and sacked the 
 towns, and I believe carried away the steeples 
 on your back, for a matter of that, you did 
 so much. They all sw ear it." 
 
 " And they all swear falsely," answered Sir 
 Osborne, *' as you may very well see, when they 
 swear that you were there aiding and abetting 
 me." 
 
132 DARNLEY. 
 
 "Gads! thafs true too,'' said Groby : "if 
 they swear such big lies about me, why mayn't 
 they do the like about you. I thought that 
 nice young lady, and that goodly old priest, 
 would not ha' been so fond of your worship if 
 you had been a robber and an insurrectionist. 
 Lord a' mercy ! I beg your worship's pardon 
 with all my heart." As Groby lost sight of 
 the subject of his bags, his grief abated, and 
 looking round the room, he added, " I say. Sir 
 Knight, is there no way of getting out of this 
 place ? What think ye o' that window ?" 
 
 " If I had my hands free," said Sir Osborae, 
 " 1 would try to climb up and see.*' 
 
 "^Gads man ! let's see your hands," said 
 Groby ; " mine are tied too, but I 've managed 
 many a tight knot with my teeth. Turn round, 
 your worship— more to the light, such as it 
 is— Ah, here I have it, the leading cord — now 
 pull — well done, millstones ! It gives !" and 
 what by dint of gnawing and pulling, in about 
 five minutes Jekin Groby contrived to loosen 
 the cord that fastened the Knight's arms, 
 and a very slight effort on Sir Osborne's part 
 
DARNLEY. 133 
 
 finished the work, and freed them completely. 
 The Knight then performed the same good 
 office to his fellow-prisoner, and poor Jekin, 
 overjoyed even at this partial liberation, jump- 
 ed and sang with delight. " Hist ! hist !'' cried 
 he, at length, " If I remember, that long ras- 
 cal of a fellow did not lock the door : let us 
 see. — No, as I live, the bolt's not shot! — let us 
 steal out, — but first I "11 look through the key- 
 hole. Out upon it, there he sits, talking to 
 two of his fellows ; ay, and there 's a latch too 
 on the outside of this cursed door, with no 
 way to lift it in the in."' 
 
 " The window is the surest way," said the 
 Knight, " if I can but reach it. Lend me your 
 back, good master Groby, and I will see. — The 
 sun shines strong through it, and yet I cannot 
 perceive that it throws the shadow of any bar 
 or grating." 
 
 " Welcome to my back," said the clothier ; 
 " but oh, do not leave me in this place, pray 
 don't ye. Sir Knight." 
 
 "On my honour I will not," replied the 
 Knight, " though it is not you they care to 
 
134 DARNLEY. 
 
 keep. Once I were away, you might have 
 your liberty the next hour. But still I will 
 not leave you." 
 
 " Thank you. Sir Knight, thank you," said 
 honest Jekin ; " all I ask is, when you are up, 
 help me up too : and if we can get out, leave 
 me as soon as you like, for the less we are 
 together, I take it, the better for Jekin Groby. 
 — And now up on my back ; it is a stout 
 one." 
 
 Jekin now bent his head against the wall, 
 making a kind of step with his two clasped 
 hands, by means of which Sir Osborne easily 
 got his elbows on the deep opening of the win- 
 dov^, which, from the thickness of the w^all, 
 offered a platform three feet wide, and with an 
 effort he swung himself up. " Clear, all 
 clear !" cried he, joyfully : " and now, my good 
 Jekin, let us see how we can get you up. — 
 Stay, let me kneel here," and turning round, 
 he knelt down, holding out his hands to Jekin 
 Groby. But it was in vain that Sir Osborne, 
 with all his vast strength, strove to pull up 
 the ponderous body of the Kentish clothier. 
 He succeeded, indeed, in raising him about a 
 
DARNLEY. 135 
 
 foot from the groimd, and holding him there, 
 while he made a variety of kicks against the 
 wall, and sundry other efforts to help himself 
 up, all equally ineffectual ; but at length Sir 
 Osborne was obliged to let him down, and 
 still remained gazing upon him with a sorrow- 
 ful countenance, feeling both the impossibility, 
 with any degree of honour, to leave him be- 
 hind, and the impracticability of getting him 
 out. 
 
 Poor Jekin, well understanding the Knighf s 
 feeling, returned his glance with one equally 
 melancholy ; and, after remaining for a moment 
 in profound silence, he made a vast effort of 
 generosity, that again unloosed the flood-gates 
 of his tears, in the midst of which he blubbered 
 forth, " Go, Sir Knight, go, and God speed 
 you ! Heaven forbid that I should keep you 
 here ! Go !" 
 
 Sir Osborne jumped down, and shook him 
 by the hand. "Never !'' said he, " Never ! But 
 th-^.re seems still some hope for us. That tall 
 feliovv', that we called Longpole this morning, 
 is more friendly to us than he seems. And I 
 can tell him something that will perhaps make 
 
136 DARNLEY. 
 
 him serve us more completely, if he will but 
 hear me. Let me see whether he is now alone." 
 And by the same means that Jekin Groby had 
 before used to ascertain that the man was there, 
 Sir Osborne discovered that the two other ser- 
 vants had left him, and that he was alone. 
 '' Hist ! Richard Heartley !" said Sir Osborne, 
 putting his movith to the key-hole, " Hist r 
 
 " Who calls ?" cried Longpole, starting up. 
 
 " 'Tis I," said Sir Osborne, " open the door 
 and speak to me." 
 
 " I dare not ! I must not !" cried Longpole. 
 " Have patience !" he whispered, '' Have pa- 
 tience ! I will come to you after dark." 
 
 '^ Yet listen to me," said Sir Osborne, but 
 at that moment a sound of horses' feet was again 
 heard through the open window, and, im wil- 
 lingly, he was obliged to desist. 
 
 The arrival of some guest now took place, as 
 Sir Osborne judged by the sounds which made 
 themselves heard. The inquiries for Sir Pay an, 
 the directions for tending the horses, and.<^he 
 orders to have them at the gate in an hour, the 
 marshalling to the banquet-hall, the cries of the 
 
DARN LEY. 137 
 
 serving men, and all the fracas that was made, 
 in that day, in honour of a visitor. 
 
 " By heaven !" said Sir Osborne, " it is 
 Lady Constance de Grey. I remember she 
 purposed coming here towards noon. If we 
 could but let her knov^r that we are here, or 
 good old Dr. Wilbraham, her people would 
 soon free us. But never does it fall better. 
 Longpole has gone from his watch, or he might 
 tell her. However, the door is only held by 
 this latch ; let us try to force it. Place your 
 shoulder with mine, good Groby. Now a 
 strong effort." But in vain. The giant door 
 stood unmoved, and Sir Osborne was obliged to 
 resign himself to his fate. 
 
 Presently the noise of serving the repast in 
 the chief hall died away, and the servants retir- 
 ing to their own part of the house, left the rest 
 in quiet, while not a sound stirred to communi- 
 cate to the bosoms of the prisoners any sensa- 
 tion either of hope or expectation. After about 
 a quarter of an hour's pause, however, a door 
 opened, and the voice of Lady Constance was 
 heard speaking to Dr. Wilbraham. " Nay, 
 
138 DARNLEY. 
 
 ray good father," she said, " do not go your- 
 self to seek them. Though we have been treat- 
 ed with but Httle courtesy, yet we may stay a 
 quarter of an hour longer. Perhaps the ser- 
 vants have not dined, and that is the reason 
 they do not come." 
 
 " By your leave. Lady, I will go," said the 
 Chaplain, " and will see that the horses be 
 brought up ; for to my poor mind we have 
 stayed here too long already for the civility we 
 have received. I will not be long." 
 
 " Dr. Wilbraham !" cried Sir Osborne, as 
 the door shut, " Doctor Wilbraham !" But 
 the good tutor turning another way, and pass- 
 ed on without hearing the voice of his former 
 pupil, and silence resumed her dominion over 
 the part of the house in which they were placed. 
 In a minute or two after, however, a heavy foot 
 announced to the watchful ears of the young 
 Knight the approach of some other person, but 
 he turned away towards the hall where Lady 
 Constance had been left, and seemed to enter. 
 
 Shortly the voice of the Lady made itself 
 heard, speaking high and angrily, in a tone to 
 
DARNLEY. 139 
 
 which the lips of Constance de Grey seldom 
 gave utterance. 
 
 " I do not understand what you mean, Sir,"' 
 said she, coming out of the hall. '" Where are 
 my servants ? Where is Dr. Wilbraham ?"* 
 
 " That was not your way, my pretty Lady,"' 
 cried the voice of the Portingal Captain. " Let 
 me kiss your loafly hand, and I will show you 
 the way." 
 
 " Stand off. Sir !" exclaimed Lady Constance. 
 " Dare you insult me in my cousin's house ?^'' 
 
 " This way ! this way ! Lady Constance de 
 Grey," cried Sir Osborne, in a voice that shook 
 the hall. " This way there are friends. Throw 
 up the latch !" 
 
 At that moment the unscrupulous Portingal 
 seems to have offered some still greater insult to 
 the young lady, for, with a scream, she darted 
 towards the spot to which the voice of Sir Os- 
 borne directed her, and throwing up the latch, as 
 he called to her to do, ran in, followed close by 
 the Portingal. Urged by fear. Lady Constance 
 flew directly to the Knight, and, recognising a 
 friend, clung to him for protection. The Cap- 
 
140 DARNLEY. 
 
 tain, not observing that his hands were freed, 
 did not scruple to pursue her, even close to 
 the side of the prisoner, calling to her not to be 
 afraid, that he would show her the way. But 
 Sir Osborne raised his arm, and in a moment 
 laid the Portingal grovelling on the ground, with 
 the blood gushing from his mouth and nostrils. 
 Lady Constance still clung to the Knight, 
 who, totally forgetting the possibility of es- 
 cape, endeavoured to soothe her, and calm 
 her agitation. Not so Jekin Groby ; after 
 pausing for a moment, confounded by the whole 
 business, he at length bethought him, that as 
 the door was open he might as well walk out, 
 and with this intent made a quick step or 
 two towards it. His purpose, however, was 
 defeated by the Portingal, who recovered from 
 the blow, and perceiving the design of the 
 clothier, started upon his feet, and jumping 
 through the open door, banged it in the face of 
 honest Jekin, at the same time making the 
 whole house ring with his cries of " Help ! 
 help ! The lady is letting out the prisoners, 
 and they shall all get loose. Help ! help !" and 
 getting hold of the rope of the alarum, he rung 
 
DARNLEY. 141 
 
 such a peal as soon brought the whole house- 
 hold, together with the servants of the Lady- 
 Constance, round the door of the strong room. 
 
 Various were now the cries and exclamations, 
 "What's the matter?" " Are they out P"" 
 " Which way did they go ?'' " Where 's the 
 lady ?" " Oh Lord !" " Oh lauk !" " Oh 
 dear !'' " Dear me !" " How strange !" " Who'd 
 have thought it !" While the Portingal, with 
 his face all streaming with blood, explained to 
 them that Lady Constance w^ished to let the 
 prisoners out, and that he, notwithstanding 
 their efforts, had shut them up all together, by 
 the valour of his invincible arm, and he called 
 his bloody muzzle to bear testimony to the 
 truth of his asseveration. 
 
 " You lie, you vagabond thief!'"* cried one of 
 the young lady's servants. " It was you stole 
 my riding whip, when you ran away in such a 
 hurry from the inn last night." 
 
 " You must make a great mistake, my 
 friend," said Dr. Wilbraham, who had come 
 up amongst the rest; " Lady Constance de 
 Grey has too much respect for the law to assist 
 any prisoners to escape from the house of a 
 
142 DARN LEY. 
 
 magistrate. Let me in here, and we shall soon 
 hear the truth of all this." 
 
 " And let me in !" " And let me in !'" 
 " And let me in too !" cried a dozen voices, and 
 all prepared to rush into the room, the moment 
 any one raised the latch, on which Longpole 
 had his hand for the purpose. 
 
 " Devil a one of you V cried Longpole. 
 " Curiosity, I Ve heard say, was one of the 
 great vices of the old gentlewoman of Babylon, 
 and so certainly I shall not gratify your's. 
 March every one ; for his worship, when he 
 went away, gave me charge of the prisoners, 
 and I am to answer for them when he comes 
 bafck. The only one that goes with me shall 
 be his reverence, who, God bless him, taught 
 me to read and write, and speak French, when 
 I was little Dick Heartley, the porter'*s son at 
 the old castle.'*'* 
 
 " And art thou little Dick Heartley ?'' ex- 
 claimed Doctor Wilbraham. " We are both 
 changed, Dick ; but open me the door, good 
 Dick, for by that Portingalo's speech, I fancy 
 the young lady is here also, with the prisoners, 
 though I conceive not how.'" 
 
DARNLEY. 143 
 
 Heartley accordingly opened the door, suffi- 
 ciently to allow the clergyman to pass, and then 
 following, he shut it, taking care to put his 
 dagger under the latch, to prevent its obstruct- 
 ing his exit, in case of the servants' leaving the 
 spot during his stay. 
 
 At first the change from a bright light to 
 comparative obscurity, prevented the good tutor 
 from distinguishing clearly the objects in the 
 apartment to which he was admitted by Long- 
 pole ; but who can express his astonishment 
 when he beheld Sir Osborne ? Forgetting Lady 
 Constance and every other circumstance, he 
 clasped his hands in a sort of agony, " Good 
 (rod !" exclaimed he, " is it possible ? You 
 here ! You, my Lord, in the power of your bit- 
 terest enemy ? O Osborne, Osborne ! what 
 can be done to save you ? And is it you P*' 
 cried he, raising his voice, and turning to 
 Longpole, in a tone of bitter reproach ; " and 
 is it you, Richard Heartley, that do the work 
 of gaoler upon your own born lord and only 
 lawful master ?" 
 
 '' My born lord I" cried Heartley, springing 
 forward ; " what does your reverence mean ? 
 
144 DARN LEY. 
 
 Who is he ? They told me his name was 
 Maurice — Osborne Maurice."*'' 
 
 " Osborne Darnley, they should have said,'^ 
 replied the young Knight. " Your old Lord's 
 son, Dick Heartley." 
 
 Heartley threw himself at his Lord's feet. 
 '' Why did not you tell me ? Why did not 
 you tell me ?''' cried he. "I 'd sooner have 
 chopped my hand off. I that first taught you 
 to draw a bow and level an arrow. I that 
 sought you all through the camp at Terrouenne 
 to be your servant and servitor, as in duty 
 bound, only that you were away guarding the 
 fort bridge on the Lambre. Cut my hand off! 
 rd rathei* have ripped myself up with my 
 dagger.'' 
 
 It may be supposed that the surprise of 
 Lady Constance and of Jekin Groby was 
 somewhat analogous to that expressed by Long- 
 pole on finding that the person they had 
 known only as Osborne Maurice, or, at best as 
 Sir Osborne Maurice, an adventurous soldier, 
 whose necessitous courage had obtained for him 
 the honour of Knighthood, was in fact the 
 young Lord Darnley, whose misfortunes and 
 
DARNLEY. 145 
 
 accomplishments had already furnished much 
 employment for the busy tongue of fame. To 
 the young lady, especially, this discovery gave 
 a sensation of timid shame, for the interest she 
 had so unguardedly displayed in his fate — an 
 interest which nevertheless she might perhaps 
 feel heightened when she found all that she had 
 heard of Lord Darnley identified with all that 
 she knew of Osborne Maurice. " I too, may 
 ask, my Lord,"" she said, " why you did not tell 
 me — or rather, why you did not tell my father, 
 who ever expressed the deepest interest in your 
 fate, and in his life-time might have served 
 you 'r 
 
 "■ Your noble father. Lady," replied Lord 
 Darnley, '■' was well aware who I was, even 
 when I was a guest at his mansion, and he, as 
 well as the rest of my friends, thought it best 
 that I should still conceal my name while in 
 England, in order to veil me from the machina- 
 tions of a man, whose unaccountable interest 
 at Court, and unscrupulous nature, were almost 
 certain to carry through whatever villainous 
 attempt he undertook against me. Our lands 
 and lordships he holds not as we did, by chi- 
 
 VOL. I. H 
 
146 DARNLEY. 
 
 valry and tenure of possession, but only as 
 steward of Dover Castle, an office given and 
 recallable at pleasure. You now see how wise 
 was the precaution, since here, in the midst of 
 the most civilized country in Europe, I have 
 been unlawfully seized, on the King's highway — 
 accused of fictitious crimes, and destined to a 
 fate that only time will show — To think that I, 
 a man at arms, long used to camps, and with- 
 out boasting, no bad soldier either, should be, 
 like an infant, in the hands of this deep- plotting 
 usurper ! 'Tis enough to drive me mad T 
 
 " No, no, my Lord/' said Heartley, or as we 
 have called him, Longpole, " don't you fear. 
 They say that when Old Nick stirs the fire, he 
 is sure to burn his fingers, and when he salts a 
 birch broom, he pickles a rod for his own back. 
 But stay, let me see that there is no one at the 
 door listening — No, there they are, at the 
 farther end of the hall, but they can't hear — So, 
 my Lord, I'll undertake to get you out this 
 blessed night. My oath to Sir Payan is up at 
 twelve oVlock to-night.". 
 
 " No oath can bind you to commit a crime,*' 
 said the clergyman, " and that it is a crime to 
 
DARNLEY. 147 
 
 aid in any way in detaining your lord here, 
 can easily be proved." 
 
 " Oh ! your Worship,' said Heartley, "I can't 
 reason the matter with your reverence, you'd 
 pose me in a minute ; but, nevertheless, I '11 
 keep my oath, and I can give you a good rea- 
 son for it — It would do my Lord no good if I 
 was to break it — there are twenty people round 
 about, that would all join to stop him if I were 
 to let him out this moment, and with my young 
 lady's three servants to boot, we should still be 
 beaten by the numbers. We must wait till 
 after dark ; ay, and till after the bell rings to 
 bed at eleven, but then I will find means to 
 free my lord." 
 
 " But may they not have thus time to com- 
 mit some evil deed .?" demanded Lady Con- 
 stance, "and your tardy succour may come 
 too late.*" 
 
 " No, no ! my Lady,'' replied Longpole, " I 
 heard yon Portingallo, who is just riding 
 away, tell his rascally slavish crew, as he was 
 locking them up in the granary, that at half 
 past one he was to be back ; and then they 
 were to carry down the two prisoners to the 
 H 2 
 
148 DARNLEY. 
 
 ship, for which they were to have two hundred 
 gold angels amongst them. Now we shall be 
 far enough before half past one."" 
 
 " At all events, my Lord," said Lady Con- 
 stance, " it will not be long before we are at 
 Canterbury, from whence we can send you suf- 
 ficient succour, backed with authority, compe- 
 tent to procure your release."" 
 
 ''But remember, Lady,"" said the Knight, 
 " that I am but Sir Osborne Maurice, and no 
 one must know me as any thing else if it can 
 be avoided, for it is of the utmost consequence 
 to my interest, that at present I should not 
 appear hefore our noble, but somewhat way- 
 ward king, as I really am. And now, let me 
 return' you a thousand and a thousand thanks 
 for your kind interest past and present ; to 
 which, but add one favour. When I am free, 
 give me but one little glove from this fair 
 hand,"" and he raised it to his lips, " and I will 
 place it on my pennon's pike, and write under- 
 neath it, gratitude ; and if it falls in the listed 
 field, or the battle plain, Darnley is dead."" 
 
 " Nay, nay, my Lord,"*"* replied Lady Con- 
 stance, with a blush and smile, " too gallant by 
 
DARNLEY. 149 
 
 half ! But you are a prisoner, and I believe 
 promises made in prison are not held valid. 
 Wait, therefore, till you are free, and in the 
 mean time you shall have my prayers and best 
 wishes, and such aid as I can send you from 
 Canterbury, I will." 
 
 There is a witchery in the sympathy of a 
 beautiful woman, whose influence all men must 
 have experienced, and all women understand ; 
 and though our hero felt the most devout con- 
 viction that he was not the least in love in the 
 world with Lady Constance de Grey, there is 
 no knowing how far his gratitude for the in- 
 terest she took in his fate, might have carried 
 him, had she remained there much longer ; 
 and even when she left him, and he heard the 
 horses' feet repass the window of his prison, he 
 felt as if he were ten times more a prisoner 
 than before. 
 
 There was something so kind and so gentle 
 in her manner, and her smile illuminated her 
 countenance with such angelic light, that while 
 she was there, even though speaking of them, 
 his sorrows and his dangers seemed all forgot. 
 She was so young, and so beautiful too, and 
 
150 DARNLEY. 
 
 there was in her look and her gesture and her 
 tone so much of that undefiled simplicity, 
 which we love to suppose in a higher nature of 
 beings, that the young Knight, as an admirer 
 of every thing that is excellent, might well 
 make the fair creature that had just left him 
 the theme of his thoughts long after she was 
 gone : and in such dreams absorbed, he paced 
 up and down the strong room, finding out that 
 loss of rank and fortune were much greater 
 misfortunes than ever, till then, he had deemed 
 them. 
 
 At the same time that Lady Constance de- 
 parted, our friend Longpole also left the pri- 
 soners, promising however to see them from 
 time to time during the day, and to find means 
 of liberating them at night. In this arrange* 
 ment Jekin Groby took care to be specially in- 
 cluded, and trusting implicitly to the promises 
 of Dick Heartley on the score of his freedom, 
 his only farther consideration was concerning 
 his bags. 
 
 " Don't you think, my Lord," sard he, after 
 waiting a moment or two in order to see whe- 
 
DARNLEY. 151 
 
 ther Lord Darnley would finish his meditative 
 perambulations, " don't you think King Harry 
 will make this Sir Payan, or Sir Pagan as they 
 ought to call him, refund my angels ? Ay ! my 
 Lord ?" 
 
 "If there be justice in the land,'' replied 
 Darnley ; " but mark me, good Jekin, you call 
 me my Lord. You have heard me say that 
 it may be of the utmost detriment to my in- 
 terest if I be known as Lord Darnley. Cir- 
 cumstances have put you in possession of my 
 secret, but if you would pleasure me — if you 
 would not injure me, forget from this moment 
 that I am any other than Sir Osborne Maurice : 
 call me by no other title, think of me under 
 no other name." 
 
 " No indeed, my Lord," said Jekin, " I pro- 
 mise your Lordship never to call you my Lord 
 again — I won't indeed, my Lord — Lord ! Lord ! 
 There, only see, my Lord, I have called you 
 my Lord again. Well, it does come so natural 
 to one, when one knows that you are my Lord, 
 to call you my Lord — What a fool I am ! But 
 your Lordship will forgive me — and so I'll go 
 
152 DARNLEY. 
 
 and sleep in that straw in the closet, and forget 
 it all, for I shanH get my natural rest to-night 
 that "s clear." 
 
 So saying, Jekin nestled himself in the straw 
 which had attracted his attention, and shutting 
 the door to exclude all light, he was soon bu- 
 ried in a profound sleep, while Sir Osborne 
 (which, according to his wish, we shall not cease 
 to call him) continued his meditations, walking 
 up and down, as if on guard at some dangerous 
 post. 
 
DARN LEY. 153 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 " This is a devil and no monster : I will leave him ; I 
 have no long spoon." The Tempest. 
 
 One of the strangest problems of our inex- 
 plicable nature is the choice of evil and the re- 
 jection of good, even after long experience has 
 proved that evil and misery are uniformly sy- 
 nonymous. Virtue, it is true, does not always 
 exempt from sorrow, but crime must ever be 
 wretchedness. Hope loses its balsam, and fear 
 acquires a keener sting, the present is anxiety, 
 the past remorse, and the future is despair, and 
 yet wayward man drinks of the bitter cup when 
 the sweet is offered to him, and launches liis 
 boat upon an angry sea, where storms attend 
 his course, and shipwreck terminates his voy- 
 . H 5 
 
154 DARNLEY. 
 
 age, rather than glide down the smooth current 
 of a tranquil stream, where peace pilots him on 
 his way, and happiness waits him at the shore. 
 
 Sir Payan Wileton knew not what happiness 
 is. He had drank the intoxicating bowl of 
 pleasure, he had drained the boiling draught of 
 revenge ; pride, avarice, vanity, had all been 
 gratified in turn; but peace he had never 
 sought, content he had never found, and venge- 
 ful passions, like the Promethean vulture, 
 preyed upon him for ever. Possessed of the 
 vast estates of Chilham Castle, joined to those 
 he also held of Elham Manor and Hyndesford, 
 his wealth had been fully sufficient to create 
 for him that interest amongst the powerful of 
 the land which he could not hope to obtain by 
 virtues or qualities. Thus powerful, rich, and 
 full of desperate fearlessness, he was dreaded, 
 detested, courted, and obeyed. He felt, too, 
 that he was detested, and hating mankind the 
 more, he became the tyrant of the country 
 round. Seeking to govern by fear instead of 
 esteem, he made his misanthropy subservient 
 to his pride and to his avarice ; and wherever 
 he received, or pretended an offence, there he 
 
DARNLEY. 155 
 
 was sure both to avenge and to enrich himself. 
 Thus his life was a continual warfare, and in 
 this active misanthropy he took as much de- 
 light as his heart was capable of feeling. It was 
 to him what ardent spirits are to the drunkard, 
 or the dice-box to the gambler. 
 
 But there was one constant thorn that goaded 
 him, even in the midst of the success that 
 attended his other schemes ; namely, the fear 
 that the King might deprive him of the steward- 
 ship of Dover Castle, by which alone he held 
 the estates of Chilham. In vain he had used 
 all the influence he possessed to have the grant 
 made absolute, or to hold his land by ser- 
 g6antry, as it had been held by Lord Fitzber- 
 nard ; the King was inexorable, and imagined 
 that he did equal justice when he refused to 
 restore the estates to the forfeited family, or to 
 grant the feof thereof to Sir Payan. Indeed, 
 it had been held by cunning lawyers of the day, 
 that Lord Fitzbernard could not lawfully be 
 dispossessed, except under an attainder, which 
 had never been attempted against him ; and 
 that if it could be proved that the estates had 
 not reverted to the crown by any default of 
 
156 darnley: 
 
 tenure, or by extinction, Sir Payan's right 
 would fall to the ground ; and that the only 
 effect of the King's patent of the stewardry of 
 Dover, would be to alienate that office from the 
 family holding the estates. 
 
 Sir Payan was too wise to moot the question, 
 and Lord Fitzbernard, hiding his indigence in 
 a far part of Wales, had neither the means nor 
 opportunity of succeeding in a suit against him. 
 The few friends, indeed, that the test of misfor- 
 tune had left the Earl out of many acquaintances, 
 strongly urged the King to revoke the grant 
 which his father had made to a bad man, and to 
 restore the property to a good one ; but they 
 never ventured to hint to the choleric Kino^ that 
 the grant itself was illegal. 
 
 However, Sir Payan had long foreseen that 
 a time would come when the young heir of 
 Chilham Castle might wrench his heritage from 
 the hand that usurped it, and he resolved, at 
 all hazards, to strike where the blow would be 
 most effectual. Several painful indignities had 
 induced the aged Earl of Fitzbernard to drop 
 a title and a name, to the splendour of which. 
 
DARN LEY. 157 
 
 his means no longer were proportioned; and 
 burying himself in a far part of Wales, he 
 devoted his whole time to endowing his son 
 with both those elegant and warlike accom- 
 plishments, which he fondly hoped would one 
 day prove the means of reinstating his family 
 in the halls of their ancestors. " Fulbert de 
 Douvres,"" he said, " the founder of our family 
 in England, won the lands and lordships of 
 Chilham at the point of his lance, and why 
 should not Osborne Darnley, the only descend- 
 ant of Rose de Douvres, his daughter, regain 
 his patrimony by his good sword ?'' 
 
 Happily, his very poverty had removed the 
 old Earl from any county where the influence 
 of Sir Payan Wileton might be felt, or where 
 his machinations could be carried on success- 
 fully. Yet more than one attempt had been 
 made to carry off the young heir of Chilham 
 Castle, and little doubt could be entertained in 
 regard to whose hand had directed them. All, 
 however, had been frustrated by the extraor- 
 dinary foresight with which the old Earl guard- 
 ed his son, seeming to have an intuitive know- 
 
158 DARN LEY. 
 
 ledge of the time when any such attack was 
 likely to take place, and to be always prepared 
 to avoid or repel it. 
 
 At length, however, the time came, when the 
 young Osborne Maurice (as he was now called,) 
 was to encounter alone all that his enemies 
 could do against him ; but it seemed as if his 
 father had now lost all fear, and bidding him 
 resume his real name when he joined the army, 
 he sent him forth unhesitatingly to win renown. 
 How he acquitted himself, we have in some 
 measure seen, and will now proceed with the 
 circumstances that followed immediately upon 
 his return to his native country, after five years 
 of arduous military service. 
 
 The bosom of Sir Payan Wileton, during 
 his absence from the house where he had left 
 his prisoner, was agitated by a thousand various 
 passions. Triumph, — malice, — pride, — fear 
 that he might yet, by some unforeseen circum- 
 stance, escape from his hands, — newer and vast- 
 er projects of ambition, still as he made one 
 step sure, seeking to place, another still higher, 
 — the feeling of a difficult enterprise accom- 
 pli-3hed, — ^the heart-steeling preparation for a 
 
DARN LEY. 159 
 
 fresh crime, and mingled still withal an un- 
 wonted thrilling of remorse, that, like sounds 
 of music amidst cries of riot and tumult, made 
 discord more discordant, — all occupied the void 
 place of thought, and made him gallop quickly 
 on, communicating to even his corporeal actions 
 the hurried agitation of his feelings. 
 
 Thus he proceeded for some way, but when 
 he had ridden on for such a space as he com- 
 puted that Lady Constance would remain at his 
 dwelling, he turned his horse, and prepared to 
 return home, having by this time striven to 
 remove from his face all trace of any emotion, 
 and having also, in some degree, reduced his 
 feelings to their usual still, determined action. 
 Yet, nevertheless, there was a strange sensation 
 of horror tugging at his heart, when he thought 
 of the near accomplishment of his long enter- 
 tained designs. " He is too like his mother,'" 
 muttered Sir Payan. " But yet I am not a 
 woman to halt in my purposes for the weak 
 memory of an idle passion, which disappoint- 
 ment and rejection should long have turned 
 into revenge, — and yet I wish he were not so 
 like his mother."" 
 
160 DARNLEY. 
 
 As he returned, he checked the speed with 
 which he had set out, and was proceeding lei- 
 surely on the road, when he heard the canter- 
 ing of a horse coming up behind, and, turning 
 round, perceived the somewhat curious figure 
 of Sir Cesar the Astrologer. It was one, how- 
 ever, well known to Sir Payan, who (as too 
 often is the case) was destitute of religion, but 
 by no means emancipated from superstition, and 
 who, while he rejected the light of revelation, 
 could not refrain from often yielding to the 
 wild gleams of a dark imagination. 
 
 In the still agitated state of his mind, too, 
 when a sort of feverish excitement stimulated 
 him to seek from any source of knowledge, what 
 would be the future consequences of his medi- 
 tated actions, he looked upon the coming of Sir 
 Cesar as a benefit at the hands of Fortune, and 
 prepared to take advantage of it. 
 
 Doffing low, therefore, his plumed hat as the 
 old Knight rode up, and bowing almost to his 
 saddle-bow, " Welcome, worthy Sir Cesar,""* he 
 said, " any news from your splendid friend his 
 Grace of Buckingham .?" 
 
 Sir Cesar touched his palfrey between the 
 
DARNLEY. 161 
 
 ears with his small baton to make it slacken 
 its pace, and then, after regarding Sir Payan 
 with his keen dark eyes, as was usual with him 
 on first encountering any one he knew, he re- 
 plied, " Welcome, fortunate Sir Payan Wileton. 
 Your star is in the ascendant !^' and while he 
 apoke there was a sort of cynical sneer on his 
 countenance, which seemed hardly to wish well 
 to him that he congratulated. 
 
 "It is?" replied Sir Payan; "but conde- 
 scend, good Sir Cesar, to ride to my dwelling 
 and pass one day with me, and I will tell you 
 more." 
 
 " What can you tell me that I do not know 
 already ?'''' demanded the other. " Do you 
 think I know not how much you merited from 
 Fortune, by your deeds when Perky n Warbeck 
 fled from Taunton ? Do you think I know not 
 that your enemy is in your power. — I do, I 
 do : and as I love the fortunate, I will come 
 and stay one day at your house, though you 
 know I tarry no where long." 
 
 " I know it well, and hold your sojourn the 
 more honour," answered Sir Payan ; " but let 
 us on, good Sir Cesar, there is much informa- 
 
162 DARNLEY. 
 
 tion which I will seek at your hands, and I 
 know that you never refuse to give it when it 
 is asked for no idle purpose.'' 
 
 " No :" replied the Astrologer ; " every man 
 who seeks knowledge from me shall find it, 
 were he worse than Satan himself; but woe be 
 unto him if he turns it to an evil account — 
 the deeper damnation be upon his head !" 
 
 Putting their horses into a quick pace, they 
 now soon reached the manor-house, the owner 
 of which showed his guest with some ceremony 
 into the banquet-hall. " How now !" cried he, 
 observing the repast which had been set be- 
 fore Lady Constance still upon the table ; " Why 
 have not these things been removed ? and where 
 is Hear.tley ?'' 
 
 The answer involved a long account of what 
 had happened during his absence, in which the 
 story of the Portingallo having frightened Lady 
 Constance till she fled into the strong-room, was 
 told with a greater degree of accuracy than 
 might have been expected, though the length of 
 time which she remained there was rather ex- 
 aggerated, and some comments upon the con- 
 duct of Heartley, otherwise Longpole, were 
 
DARNLEY. 163 
 
 added, calculated to take from him Sir Payan's 
 confidence. He had prevented every one from 
 going in, the servant said, but himself, and 
 had remained all the time the Lady was there. 
 
 " He did right," was the laconic reply of 
 Sir Pay an ; " go to the granary, where are the 
 Portingallos and their contraband goods, and 
 bid the red-haired Dutchman who speaks Eng- 
 lish to come hither directly. — The key hangs 
 on the nail in the passage." 
 
 Sir Payan's plan was formed at once. He 
 doubted not that the communication which had 
 taken place between his prisoner and Lady 
 Constance would lead to her seeking means to 
 effect his liberation the moment she arrived at 
 Canterbury, or at least to set on foot some in- 
 vestigation ; for although he knew not that 
 they had ever met before, he felt sure that the 
 young Knight would make his situation known 
 to every one who might in any way procure 
 his release. Under this conviction, he deter- 
 mined to risk the event of sending down Sir 
 Osborne by daylight, in the custody of the 
 Portuguese, accompanied by two of his own 
 servants, who might, in case of necessity, pro- 
 
164 DARNLEY. 
 
 duce the warrant for his detention, and who 
 would not be missed from his own household. 
 
 The servant whom he had sent to the Por- 
 tingalsj however, soon returned, with a coun- 
 tenance in which might be seen a strong desire 
 to laugh, contending with an habitual dread of 
 Sir Pay an, " What is the matter, villain ?" 
 cried the Knight : " Where is the Dutchman ?'* 
 
 "Lying in the granary, please your wor- 
 ship," replied the man, restraining his merri- 
 ment, " dead drunk, tumbled across a Portin- 
 gallo's face, that makes him heave up and down 
 by dint of snoring." 
 
 Sir Payan stamped his foot with anger and 
 disappointment. " And the rest," demanded 
 he; ''all. the rest?" 
 
 " All dead drunk, please your Worship !" 
 replied the servant ; " I kicked them all, to 
 make sure, but not one of them answered me a 
 syllable but, Umph I" 
 
 '• Go I" said Sir Payan, " Fetch me Heart- 
 ley. — Sir Cesar, give me your advice. This is 
 my embarrassment," and he proceeded to state 
 to his companion the difficulty into which the 
 news he had just heard had cast him. 
 
DARNLEY. 165 
 
 This proceeding may appear at first some- 
 what extraordinary, but it was very often the 
 case in regard to Sir Cesar, that people acted as 
 Sir Payan Wileton, in letting him into their 
 most private affairs, and even into secrets where 
 life and death were concerned, having such per- 
 fect confidence in his foreknowledge of events, 
 that it would have seemed to them folly to con- 
 ceal them. It is very possible that in this man- 
 ner the old Knight obtained much of the extra- 
 ordinary information which he did certainly 
 possess, concerning the circumstances and af- 
 fairs of almost every person with whom he came 
 in contact, and many of those predictions, which 
 were so singularly verified, may be attributed 
 to the combinations he was thus enabled to 
 form. But at the same time it is perfectly in- 
 dubitable, that he himself attributed all to the 
 sciences which he studied, and placed implicit 
 faith in his own powers, and thus, if he deceived 
 the world, he deceived himself also. 
 
 It was not, however, the nature of Sir Payan 
 Wileton to confide wholly in any one, and 
 though he informed the old Knight that he 
 apprehended the influence of Lady Constance 
 
166 DARNLEY. 
 
 de Grey might be exerted the moment she 
 arrived at Canterbury to procure the release of 
 his prisoner, or at all events that her repre- 
 sentations might cause an immediate investiga- 
 tion of the affair, which would prevent his dis- 
 posing of Darnley as he proposed ; and though 
 also perfectly convinced that Sir Cesar, by his 
 superhuman knowledge, was well aware of the 
 fate he meditated for his victim, he could not 
 bring himself to unfold to him that part of 
 his plan, merely saying he intended to send the 
 turbulent youth, who, as he was well-informed, 
 came to seek no less than his ruin and his 
 death, to some far country from whence it 
 woiild be difficult to return. 
 
 Sir Cesar listened in calm, profound silence, 
 then fixing his eyes on Sir Payan, uttered 
 slowly, " The grave V 
 
 Sir Payan started from his seat. 
 
 " You know too much ! you know too 
 much !" cried he. " Can you see thoughts as 
 well as actions .?'"' 
 
 *' Yes !" replied Sir Cesar : " I see and know 
 more than you dream of; but calm yourself, 
 and fear not. Lady Constance will not arrive at 
 
DARNLEY. 167 
 
 Canterbury before seven o' the clock : you know 
 the haste of magistrates and magistrates' men, 
 and can well judge whether she be likely to find a 
 man so generous as to abandon his rere supper 
 and his bed of down, for a cold ride and a cold 
 reception. At all events, they could not be 
 here before two i' the morning, and ere that he 
 will be gone. Rest satisfied, I tell you, that 
 they may come if they will, but before they 
 come he will be gone.*" 
 
 Sir Payan's fears were very much allayed by 
 this assurance, for his confidence in Sir Cesar's 
 prophecies was great, but he felt still more 
 secure from the examination to which he sub- 
 jected our friend L3ngpole, who managed to 
 evade his questions, and to quiet his fears, with 
 infinite presence of mind. The lady, he said, 
 had been so terrified by the insolence of the 
 Portingal Captain, that she had ran into the 
 strong room, not knowing where she went, and 
 wsLS more like one dead than alive ; and that as 
 for the prisoner, he thought of nothing but 
 thrashing the Portingal, against whom he 
 seemed to have an ancient grudge. 
 
 Sir Payan was satisfied, but still his roused 
 
168 DARNLEY. 
 
 suspicion was never without some effect, and to 
 Longpole's dismay he demanded the key, which 
 he said he would now keep himself. There 
 was, however, no means of avoiding it, and 
 Heartley was obliged to resign into the hands 
 of Sir Payan the means by which he had pro- 
 posed to effect his young Lord's delivery. 
 
 " Sir Cesar, I humbly crave your excuse for 
 one moment,'' said the crafty Knight. " Stay, 
 Heartley, where you are, and removing those 
 things, arrange the board for a second banquet 
 — ^for a banquet such as I give to my best and 
 noblest friends. Open those cupboards of plate, 
 and let the vessels be placed in order."" 
 
 So saying, he quitted the apartment, and 
 proceeded to the room in which Sir Osborne 
 was still pacing up and down, waiting impa- 
 tiently the approach of night. The key turned 
 in the door, and with a firm step Sir Payan en> 
 tered, and stood before his captive. For a mo- 
 ment they paused, and eyed each other as when 
 they had first met, and it was only by a strong 
 effort that the young Knight stayed himself from 
 seizing the persecutor of his race, and dashing 
 him to pieces on the floor of the prison. 
 
DARNLEY. 169 
 
 At length Sir Pay an, after having glanced 
 his eye round the chamber, spoke, and in the 
 deep hollow tones of his voice no agitation 
 made itself heard. 
 
 " You said this morning that we knew each 
 other,'' said the Knight — " Osborne Lord 
 Darnley, we do — I have long sought you — I 
 have found you, and you are mine own." 
 
 " Calm, cold-blooded, mean-spirited villain !"*' 
 answered Darnley, " what seek you with me 
 now ? Is it not enough to have ruined a noble 
 house ? — Is it not enough to have destroyed 
 your benefactor .? — Is it not enough to have 
 swept away the happiness of me and mine, with- 
 out seeking farther to injure those on whose 
 head your detestable arts must nearly have ex- 
 hausted themselves .f^" 
 
 " I have done enough for my revenge, young 
 man,'' replied Sir Pay an ; " I have done enough 
 for my ambition — but I have not done enough 
 for my security." 
 
 " For your revenge !" cried Darnley : " what 
 mean you, ruffian ? My father was your friend 
 — your benefactor. Compassionating your in- 
 digence, did he not aid to raise you with his 
 
 VOL. 1. I 
 
17^ DARNLEY. 
 
 purse and with his influence, till you could hold 
 your head amongst your noble kindred, of 
 whose house you are now the opprobrium ?" 
 
 " Your father insulted me with his services," 
 answered the Knight, " after your mother had 
 insulted me with her scorn." 
 
 " Name not my mother, traitor !" exclaimed 
 Darnley, his eyes flashing fire. " Profane not 
 her name with your accursed lips, lest I tear 
 you limb from limb." 
 
 Sir Payan laid his hand on his dagger with a 
 grim smile. " We waste time, young man," 
 said he : "To the purpose for which I came. 
 There is yet in my redder blood some drops of 
 that weak thing called pity. — I would rather 
 see you live than die ; but if you would live, 
 I must be Lord of Chilham Castle indeed, and 
 indeed. No stewardship of Dover and holding 
 by tenure of good pleasure for me. Within 
 this hour then, sign me over for yourself and 
 for your father all right and interest, claim 
 and title to the lands and lordship, which you 
 and yours did formerly possess, and you are 
 free as air — But if you will not — " 
 " What then .?" demanded Darnley. 
 " Why, then, I will hold by a still better 
 
DARNLEY. I7I 
 
 tenure,"" replied Sir Pay an — " The extinction 
 of the race of Darnley V 
 
 " Then hold by it, if such be Heaven's will,'" 
 replied the prisoner. " But beware yourself, 
 for in your best laid schemes you may chance 
 to fail, and even here on earth meet with that 
 sure damnation for which you have toiled so 
 long. Were I willing to stain myself with 
 crimes like yours, this hour were your last, for 
 yon dagger were but a poor defence against a 
 man who knows his life is lost."" 
 
 Sir Payan took a step backward to the door. 
 '' Will you sign ?" said he, laying his hand on 
 the lock. 
 
 "Never!" 
 
 " Then farewell !" and he quitted the apart- 
 ment. 
 
 " Oh, the villain !" cried Jekin Groby, poking 
 his head out of the closet. " Oh, the down- 
 right immense villain ! What a damaged piece 
 that man's conscience must be ! I 'm all quak- 
 ing with only hearing him. But don't you 
 think, my Lord — that is to say, Sir Osborne, 
 that if you had just knocked his brains out, we 
 might have got away .^" 
 I 2 
 
172 DARN LEY. 
 
 " Oh, no !" replied the Knight. " If, as 
 Longpole told us, we could not have escaped 
 when aided by Lady Constance de Grey's ser- 
 vants, much less could we do so now. Better 
 wait till night, which surely cannot be far dis- 
 tant, for it seems to me we have been here 
 an age." 
 
 Nevertheless, hour after hour went by, and 
 the provoking sun, which had now fully come 
 round to that side of the house, continued to 
 pour his beams into the high window, as if 
 willing to sicken the prisoners with his un- 
 wished-for light. Nor did much conversation 
 cheer the passing of their time. Sir Osborne 
 was silent and meditative, and Jekin Groby, 
 growing more and more tired of his situation, 
 kept running in and out of the closet, now 
 sitting still for a moment upon the straw, now 
 walking up and down, not at all unlike a tame 
 bear perambulating to and fro in his den. 
 
 Occasionally, indeed, a word or two of hope, 
 or doubt, or inquiry, passed between the pri- 
 soners ; and Jekin, who felt in himself an in- 
 ternal conviction that he was a man of as much 
 consequence in the world as any human being, 
 
DARNLEY. 173 
 
 could not conceive how Sir Payan Wileton 
 could have forgot to inquire where he was, 
 when he did not find him in the same room 
 with the Knight. On this he wondered, and 
 better wondered, till his companion replied, 
 " I told you before, my good Jekin, Sir Payan's 
 designs only affect me, and possibly he may 
 have forgotten you altogether. But it seems 
 growing darker. I wonder Longpole has not 
 been here to speak to us, according to his 
 promise.""* 
 
 " I should not wonder if he were playing 
 us a trick, and were not to come at all," said 
 Jekin. "Oh, dear ! What would become of 
 us ?' Lord 'a mercy, I don't like it at all V^ 
 
 In about a quarter of an hour, however, 
 their hopes were raised and disappointed. The 
 key once more turned in the door, and both 
 the Knight and his companion expected to 
 see their friend Heartley, but in his place ap- 
 peared two of the servants of Sir Payan, one of 
 whom brought in some provisions, while the 
 other stood at the door. The sight, however 
 of the roast beef and jug of ale was very gra- 
 tifying to the entrails of the worthy clothier, 
 
174 DARN LEY. 
 
 who looked on well contented while the man 
 laid them down on the ground before him. 
 
 " Now, my good fellow, an we had a little 
 salt," said Jekin, " we could fall to." 
 
 " Fellow ! me no fellows,'"* answered the ser- 
 vant : " Eat what you Ve got, my forward chap, 
 and thank God for it." 
 
 " Ay, but would'st have me tear it with my 
 teeth," cried the clothier. " I 'm not a wild 
 beast, though you do keep me in a den.'' 
 
 " Well, I will cut you a nuncheon with my 
 dagger," replied the serving-man. "Look to 
 him. Will, that he do not smite me while I 
 kijeel," and so saying, he stooped and cut seve- 
 ral slices from the meat with his side knife, 
 which being done, he rose, and left the strong 
 room quickly, as if almost afraid of its deni- 
 zens. 
 
 " Now, Sir," cried Jekin, " come and keep 
 your spirit up with some of the best comfort in 
 Nature. Oh, to my mind, there is no consola- 
 tion on earth like roast beef and ale." 
 
 But Sir Osborne had no inclination to join 
 in the good clothier's repast. The auguries 
 which he drew from the appearance of these 
 
DARNLEY. 175 
 
 two strange serving-men, and the absence of 
 Longjoole, were not of a nature to increase his 
 appetite, and he looked on silently, while Jekin, 
 without any sacrifice to the Gods, devoured 
 great part of the beef, and made manifold liba- 
 tions of the ale. 
 
 " Jekin,'" said Sir Osborne, when the clothier 
 had finished, " I am afraid Sir Pay an Wileton 
 has discovered that our friend Heartley is not 
 quite cordial to his interests, and that he may 
 take means to prevent his aiding us. Now, 
 there is no reason that you should stay here as 
 well as I, therefore, as soon as it is dark, I will 
 help you up to the window as you did me — 
 Drop down on the other side ; and speed as 
 fast as you can to any town where you are well 
 known, there get together a body of a dozen 
 horsemen, and scour the sea-coast from Sand- 
 wich to Hythe. Wherever you hear of a Por- 
 tingallo vessel, there stop, and keep good watch, 
 for I doubt not that this Sir Payan intends to 
 send me to some far land, and perhaps sell me 
 for a slave — Kill me I do not think he dare. 
 Your pains shall be well paid. The night is 
 coming on, so you had better mount first, and 
 
176 DARNLEV. 
 
 see the ground on the other side, that you may 
 drop fair." 
 
 " No, no, my Lord — that is, Sir Osborne,*" 
 said Jekin : " Dang it, no ! you would not go 
 away and leave me, so I '11 not go away and 
 leave you. Lord 'a mercy ! that 's not fair any 
 way." 
 
 " But by going you can serve me far more 
 than by staying,"*"* said Sir Osborne ; "so try to 
 mount on my shoulders that you may see the 
 ground."" 
 
 It was with great difficulty, however, that 
 the honest clothier was persuaded to make the 
 attempt, and when he did so, it was in vain. 
 Somewhat corpulent and shorter than the 
 Knight, even w^hen standing upright on Sir 
 Osborne''s shoulders, he could hardly get as 
 much of his arms over the opening as the other 
 had done, and when he attempted to swing him- 
 self up, the heavy part of his body, which, ac- 
 cording to Hudibras, is the seat of honour, and 
 which, in the worthy clothier, was by no means 
 deficient in rotundity, weighed him back again 
 with a strong counteracting force, so that 
 when Sir Osborne freed him, he swung for a 
 
PARNLEY. 177 
 
 moment like a pendulum, and then dropped to 
 the ground. 
 
 No resource now remained but to wait pa- 
 tiently the event, and much need of patience 
 had they to support them. Day waned, night 
 fell, hoar after hour passed by, and yet no 
 sound gave them notice that any friendly being 
 existed within the mansion. The curfew-bell, 
 the distant village clock, the barking of some 
 watchful dogs in the hamlet, and the remote 
 echoes of persons passing to and fro in the dif- 
 ferent halls, were all that marked the passing of 
 time to the prisoners : and hope began gra- 
 dually to wax dimmer and more dim, like the 
 flame of a lamp whose oil is out. At length, 
 after a weary silent pause, the clock was heard 
 to strike again ; but so faint were the sounds 
 before they reached their ears, that Sir Osborne 
 could hardly count them. " I counted but 
 eleven," said he, " and yet methought the last 
 hour that struck it was eleven too." 
 
 " Oh, "'tis twelve, "'tis twelve !" replied Gro- 
 by ; "I did not take heed to count, but T am 
 sure it is twelve.*" 
 
 I 5 
 
178 DARN LEY. 
 
 " Hush !" cried the Knight, " I hear some 
 one on the outside. Hark r 
 
 " Tis but a bat," said Jekin ; " I heard its 
 wings whirl past the window.'"* 
 
 " Hush !'' cried the Knight again, and as he 
 spoke, something darted through the opening and 
 fell at his feet. Feeling over the ground with 
 his hands, he soon discovered the object of his 
 search, which was a small roll of parchment. 
 " It is a letter," said he, " but what is the 
 use of throwing me what I cannot see to read. 
 It must be for to morrow morning." 
 
 " Open it ! open it !" cried Jekin ; " me- 
 thinks I see something shining through the end. 
 It casts a light upon your hand." 
 
 Sir Osborne rapidly unrolled the scroll, when 
 to his joy and surprise he found it covered with 
 large luminous characters, in which, though 
 somewhat smeared by rolling the parchment, 
 was written legibly, " Pull up the rope gently 
 that is cast through the window. Catch the 
 settle that is tied to it. Make no noise. Come 
 out, and be speedy." 
 
 " Oons i" cried Jekin, " This is magic. The 
 fairies are our friends." 
 
DARNLEY. 179 
 
 "Oh! brave Heartley," cried the Knight, 
 " I thought he would prove true. But let us 
 lose no time. Jekin stand you under with me, 
 and extend your arms, that the settle may not 
 make a noise by falling." 
 
 By searching along the wall the rope was 
 found, and by pulling it gently the Knight 
 soon began to feel a weight at the farther end. 
 For some way it ascended silently, as if a per- 
 son without held it from the wall, but then, 
 when it had been raised about six or seven feet, 
 it grated desperately till it entered the opening 
 in the wall, which by courtesy we have termed 
 window. The cord had been so adjusted as to 
 insure its entrance ; and as soon as Sir Osborne 
 was certain that it had passed sufficiently, and 
 hung upon the very brink, he gave it a sudden 
 jerk, and, catching it with a strong hand as it 
 fell, secured possession of the tall settle or hall 
 stool with scarcely any noise. 
 
 " Now, good Jekin," said he, " we are free. 
 I will mount first, and then help you up ; but, 
 standing on this settle, and pulled by me above, 
 you will not have much difficulty.'' 
 
 " Oh, no ! I warrant you, your worship," 
 
180 DARNLEY. 
 
 replied Jekin. " And when we are once out, 
 let every man run his own way, say I. Your 
 worship's company may prove somewhat dan- 
 gerous, and I am a peaceable man.'"' 
 
 " Well, be it so,**' answered the Knight ; 
 and placing the settle directly under the win- 
 dow, he soon contrived to get into the opening, 
 and, kneeling in the deep wall, managed with 
 some trouble to raise the heavy body of Groby, 
 and place him in a sitting position on the edge, 
 so that the moment he himself dropped down 
 on the other side, the honest clothier could 
 take his place and follow his example. 
 
 Turning round. Sir Osborne could perceive 
 by. the dim light of the night, the tall form of 
 Longpole standing below, but he took care not 
 to utter a sound, and bending his knees, he gra- 
 dually stretched himself out, till he hung by 
 nothing but his hands — then dropped, and in a 
 moment stood silently by Heartley's side, who 
 instantly placed in his hands the large double- 
 edged sword of which he had been deprived 
 in the morning. 
 
 It now became poor Jekin's turn, who ma- 
 naged the matter somewhat more slowly, and a 
 
DARNLEY. 181 
 
 good deal more clumsily, and at length, when 
 he dropped, although the arms of the Knight 
 broke his fall, he uttered a tremendous " Oh !" 
 and exhausted, leant against the wall. 
 
 At that moment a light appeared in a window 
 above, passed by a second, and instantly the 
 alarum bell rang out a peal enough to wake the 
 dead. 
 
 " Run ! run ! every one his own way,'' cried 
 Jekin, who seemed to trust mightily to the ac- 
 tivity of his own legs, and plying them with 
 vast rapidity, he fled up an alley before him. 
 
 " This way, my Lord," cried Heartley ; 
 " quick, we shall distance them far,'' and dart- 
 ing off for the thick wood that almost touched 
 the angle of the house, he led the Knight into 
 a deep forest path, crying, " Stoop !" 
 
 The sounds of pursuit were now loud on 
 every side. Whoop, and halloo, and shout, 
 floated on the wind, as the servants, dispersed 
 in all directions, strove to give information or 
 encouragement to their comrades, and one party 
 especially, seemed by the sound to come rapidly 
 on their track. At length an alley, bounded 
 by a wall, closed their course in that direction. 
 
182 DARNLEY. 
 
 *' We can vault ?" said Heartley. 
 
 " On !" cried the Knight, and in a moment 
 both had cleared the wall and the dry ditch be- 
 yond, but at the same moment, the sounds of 
 two parties of pursuers were heard in the pa- 
 rallel alley. 
 
 " Down in the ditch !" cried the Knight, 
 " they will see us if we take to the open field." 
 
 No sooner was it said than done, and imme- 
 diately after they heard as they lay, the feet 
 and voices of half a dozen men passing rapidly 
 
 by- 
 
 " I was sure they did not take this way, 
 Joe,'' cried one. 
 
 " And I am sure they did !" answered the 
 other. " They 're in the wood now. Let 
 us " 
 
 What he said more was lost, and after paus- 
 ing for a moment or two till the sounds were 
 but faintly heard in the wood, Longpole and 
 his Lord betook them to the open field, and 
 soon were out of sight of the park. 
 
DARNLEY. 183 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 " I do believe it : the common world 
 Teems out with things we know not ; and our mnid, 
 Too gross for us to scan the mighty whole, 
 Knows not how busy all creation is." 
 
 In the original history, here follows a long 
 chapter describing how Sir Pay an Wileton, 
 sitting in deep and earnest consultation with 
 Sir Cesar the Magician, regarding the teem- 
 ing future, was only wakened to a full sense of 
 the present by the very resonant " Oh !'" ut- 
 tered by Jekin Groby as he fell from the win- 
 dow. And the same chapter goes on at great 
 length to detail all that Sir Payan did and said 
 upon making the discovery of his prisoners' 
 evasion. His fury, his menaces, his orders, his 
 promises to those who should retake them, are 
 
184 DARNLEY. 
 
 all described fully, and in very sublime lan- 
 guage, by Professor Vonderbrugius. But ne- 
 vertheless we shall omit them, as well as the 
 long account by which they are preceded, of 
 the strange and curious ceremonies employed 
 by Sir Cesar to ascertain the event of many 
 dark schemes that were then revolving in the 
 breasts of men ; and we think that the reasons 
 which induce us to leave out all these curious 
 particulars, will fully justify our so doing in the 
 opinion of our readers. In the first place, we 
 wish to follow our hero as fast as possible ; in 
 the next place, every reader, whose head is 
 any better than a turnip, can easily figure the 
 mad rage of a passionate though wily man, on 
 finding that his prey has escaped from his 
 hand ; and in the third place, we did not trans- 
 late this chapter, inasmuch as Vonderbrugius, 
 besides being vastly sublime, was wholly unin- 
 telligible. 
 
 Making therefore, that short, which was 
 originally long, we shall only say that all the 
 servants, roused from their beds, beat the 
 woods in every direction, searching vainly for 
 the young Knight and Richard Heartley, who, 
 
DARNLEY. 185 
 
 as we have seen, contrived to evade their pur- 
 suit. Not such, however, was the fate of poor 
 Jekin Groby, who, running straight forward up 
 one of the avenues, was soon seen and over- 
 taken by a party of servants, who taking it 
 for granted that he would resist most vio- 
 lently, beat him unmercifully out of mere ex- 
 pectation. 
 
 Roaring and grumbling, the unfortunate 
 clothier was brought back to the Manor, and 
 underwent Sir Payan's objurgation with but an 
 ill grace. " You are a villain ! you are !" 
 cried Jekin. " You had better let me alone ! 
 you had ! You 11 burn your fingers if you 
 meddle with me. — You Ve stolen my bags 
 already — but the King and Lord Derby shall 
 hear of it ; ay, and the Cardinal to boot — 
 and a deal more too. — Did not I hear you 
 promise to murder him, you black-hearted 
 vagabond ?" 
 
 " Tie him hand and foot," said Sir Pay an, 
 " and bring him back again into the strong- 
 room. Bring him along, I would fain see 
 how they reached the window." And followed 
 by the servants, hauling along poor Jekin, who 
 
186 DARNLEV. 
 
 ever and anon muttered something about Lord 
 Derby, and the King, and his bags, he pro- 
 ceeded to the chamber where the young Knight 
 had been imprisoned. There the settle and 
 the rope gave evidence of the manner in which 
 the escape had been effected, and were instantly 
 removed by order of the Knight, to prevent the 
 honest clothier, though now bound hand and 
 foot, from making the attempt again. " This 
 man's evidence would damn me," thought Sir 
 Pay an. " Fool that I was to forget that he 
 was here, and not look in that straw closet, 
 before I committed myself with the other ! 
 But he must be taken care of, and never see 
 England again. What is that ?'" continued 
 he aloud, pointing to the scroll which caught 
 his eye on the ground. " Give it me. Ha ! 
 All fair ! Can old Sir Cesar have aided in 
 this trick — we will see."" And with hasty strides 
 he proceeded to the high chamber where he 
 had left the Astrologer. He slackened his 
 pace however with some feelings of awe, for as 
 he approached he heard ^ voice speaking high. 
 " In the name of God most high,'"* it cried, 
 '' answer ! Shall his he-ad be raised so high 
 
DARNLEY. 187 
 
 for good or for evil ? Ha ! thou fleetest away. 
 —Let be! Let be !" 
 
 At this moment Sir Payan threw open the 
 door, and found the old man with his hair 
 standing almost erect, his eye protruded, 
 and his arms extended, as if still adjuring 
 some invisible being. " It is gone!" cried he, 
 as the other entered. — '' It is gone !'' and he 
 sunk back exhausted in his chair. 
 
 Notwithstanding the fund of dauntless reso- 
 lution which Sir Payan held, his heart seemed 
 to grow faint as he entered the apartment, in 
 which there w^as a strange sickly odour of in- 
 cense and foreign gums, and a thin blue smoke, 
 that diffusing itself from a chafing-dish on the 
 table, rendered the various objects flickering 
 and indistinct. Nor could he help persuading 
 himself that something rushed by him as he 
 opened the door, like a sudden gust of cold 
 wind, that made him give an involuntary 
 shudder. 
 
 When he had left the room below, he had 
 determined to tax the old Knight boldly, with 
 having aided in the prisoners' escape ; but his 
 feelings were greatly changed when he entered. 
 
188 DARNLEY. 
 
 and accosting him with a mixture of awe and 
 respect, he asked how it was that people 
 discovered any characters written in a certain 
 sort of ink he had heard of, which was quite 
 pure and white, till the person who had the 
 secret submitted it to some other process. 
 
 " Hold the paper to the fire !" said Sir Cesar 
 feebly. 
 
 Sir Payan immediately extended the parch- 
 ment over the chafing-dish, but in vain, no 
 trace of any kind appeared, and vexed and dis- 
 appointed he let it drop into the flame. 
 
 " Know ye that my prisoner has escaped ?" 
 said he, " and I am again insecure.^' 
 
 " Listen to what is of mightier moment," 
 cried Sir Cesar with a great efibrt, as if his 
 powers were almost extinct with some vast ex- 
 citement just undergone. " Listen, and reply 
 not ; but leave me the moment you have heard. 
 You besought me to ascertain the fate of Ed- 
 ward Duke of Buckingham, that you might 
 judge whether to serve him as he would have 
 you. — I have compelled an answer from those 
 who know, and I learn that, within one year. 
 
DARN LEY. 189 
 
 Buckingham's head shall be the highest in the 
 realm. — Mark ! determine ! and leave me !" 
 
 Sir Payan, aware that it was useless to re- 
 main when Sir Cesar had once desired to be 
 alone, quitted the chamber in silence. " Yes !" 
 said he thoughtfully, " I will serve him, so 
 long as I do not undo myself — I will creep into 
 his counsels — I will appear his zealous friend — 
 but I will be wary. — He aims at the crown — as 
 he rises I will rise — but if I see him make one 
 false step in that proud ascent, I will hurl him 
 down, and when the fair lands of Buckingham 
 
 are void Who knows ? We shall see. — Less 
 
 than I have risen higher ! — Ho ! who waits ? 
 When the Portingallo returns, give the pri- 
 soner into his hands — but first make the Cap- 
 tain speak with me. — Buckingham's head shall 
 be the highest in the realm ! That must be 
 King — never did I know his prophecies fail, 
 though sometimes they have a strange twisted 
 meaning — highest in the realm — there can be 
 none higher than the King — Harry has no 
 male heir. — Well, we shall see.'' 
 
190 DARNLEY. 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 " Welcome, he said : 
 Oh, long expected, to my dear embrace !" 
 
 Dryden. 
 
 " We must not think ourselves safe,**" said 
 Longpole, when they had got about two miles 
 from the park, " till we have put five estates 
 between us and that double cunning fox, Sir 
 Payan Wileton, for by break of day his horse- 
 men will be out in every direction, and he will 
 not mind breaking a little law to have us/' 
 
 " Which way are we going now ?" demanded 
 the Knight ; " I should judge towards Canter, 
 bury/' 
 
 " A little to the left we bear now," replied 
 Longpole, " and yet the left is become the 
 
DARNLEY. 191 
 
 right, for by going left we get right off his 
 land, my Lord." 
 
 " Call me not my Lord, Heartley," said 
 Darnley. " Did I appear before the King as 
 Lord Darnley, his Grace might be offended, and 
 especially the proud Wolsey ; as, after many 
 entreaties, made by the best in the land, the 
 Prelate refused to see either my father or myself, 
 that we might plead our own cause ; therefore, 
 for the present, I am but Sir Osborne Maurice. 
 Thou hast too much wit I know to give me 
 my Lord at every instant, hke yon foolish 
 clothier." 
 
 " Oh no, not I," replied Longpole, " I will 
 Sir Osborne you. Sir, mightily. But speaking 
 of the clothier, your Worship, how wonder- 
 fully the fellow used his legs. It seemed as if 
 every step cried out ell-iuide ; and when he 
 stumbled 'twas but three-quarters. I hope he 
 escaped, if 'twere but to glorify his running." 
 
 " Even if they took him," said the Knight, 
 *' Sir Pay an would not keep him after he found 
 I was gone." 
 
 " If 'twere not for avarice," said Longpole, 
 
192 DARNLEY. 
 
 " the fellow had all his better angels in his 
 bags, and Sir Pay an has store of avarice. I Ve 
 seen him wrangle with a beggar for the change 
 of a halfpenny, when the devil tempted him to 
 commit a charity. And yet avarice, looked 
 upon singly, is not a bad vice for a man to have 
 either. It 's a warm, a comfortable, solid sin ; 
 and if most men will damn their own soul to 
 get money, he can't be much worse off who 
 damns his to keep it. Oh, I like avarice ! 
 Give me avarice for my sin. But I tire your 
 Worship."' 
 
 " No, no, faith," replied the Knight. " Thy 
 cheerfulness, together with the freedom of my 
 limbs, gives me new spirit, Heartley." 
 
 " Oh, good your Worship,*" cried Longpole, 
 '• call me something else than Heartley. Since 
 the fit is on us for casting our old names, I '11 
 be after the fashion too, and have a new one." 
 
 " Well, then, I will call thee Longpole," said 
 the Knight, " which was a name we gave thee 
 this morning, when thou w^ert watching us on 
 the bank." 
 
 " Speak not of it, Sir Osborne," replied he ; 
 " that was a bad trick — the worst 1 ever was 
 
DARN LEY. 193 
 
 in. But call me Longpole, if your Worship 
 chooses. When I was with the army, they 
 called me Dick Fletcher, because I made the 
 arrows ; and now I '11 be Longpole, till such 
 time as your Honour is established in all your 
 rights again, and then I '11 be merry Master 
 Heartley, my Lord's man." 
 
 " I fear me, Dick, that thou wilt have but 
 little beside thy merriment for thy wages," said 
 the Knight, " at least for a while, for yon same 
 Sir Payan has my bags too in safe custody, and 
 also some good letters for his Grace of Buck- 
 ingham. Yet I hope to receive in London the 
 ransom of a knight and two squires, whom I 
 made prisoners at Bouvines. 'Till then we must 
 content ourselves on soldiers' fare, and strive not 
 to grow sad because our purses are empty." 
 
 " Oh, your Worship, my merriment never 
 leaves me," said Longpole. " They say that I 
 laughed when first I came into the world ; and, 
 with God's will, I will laugh when I go out of 
 it. When good Dr. Wilbraham, your ho- 
 nour's tutor, used to teach me Latin — you were 
 but a little thing then, some four years old — 
 but, however, I was a great boy of twelve, and 
 
 VOL. I. K 
 
194 DARNLEY. 
 
 he would kindly have taught me, and made a 
 clerk of me ; but I laughed so at the gods and 
 goddesses, that he never could get on — The 
 great old fools of antiquity, as I used to call 
 them — and then he would cane me, and laugh 
 too, till he could not cane me for laughing. I 
 was a wicked wag in those days; but since 
 then I have grown to laugh at folks "as much 
 as with them. But I think you said. Sir Os- 
 borne, that you had letters for the Duke of 
 Buckingham : if we walk on at this pace, we 
 shall soon be upon his land." 
 
 " What ! has he estates in this county .^" ask- 
 ed the Knight ; " my letters were addressed to 
 him at Thornbury, in Gloucestershire." 
 
 " Oh, but he has many a broad acre too in 
 Kent," answered Longpole ; " and a fine house, 
 windowed throughout with glass, and four 
 chimneys at each end ; not a room but has its 
 fire. They say that he is there even now. And 
 much loved is he of the commons, being no 
 way proud, as some of our Lords are, with 
 their upturned noses, as if they scorned to wind 
 their mother earth." 
 
 " Were I but sure that his Grace were 
 
DARNLEY. 195 
 
 there," said the Knight, " I would e'en venture 
 without the letters; for much has he been a 
 friend to my father, and he is also renowned for 
 his courtesy.'''* 
 
 " Surely, your Worship," answered Long- 
 pole, " if his Grace have any grace, he must be 
 gracious ; and yet I have heard that Sir Payan 
 is the Duke's good friend, and it might be dan- 
 gerous to trust yourself." 
 
 " I do not fear," said the Knight. '' The 
 noble Duke would never deliver me into the 
 hands of my enemy; and although, perhaps. 
 Sir Payan may play the sycophant, and cringe 
 to serve his own base purposes with his Grace, 
 I cannot believe that the Duke would show 
 him any farther favour than such as we yield 
 to a hound that serves us. However, we must 
 find some place to couch us for the night, and 
 to-morrow morning I will determine." 
 
 "■ Still, we must on a little farther to-night," 
 said Longpole. " That Sir Payan has the nose 
 of a bloodhound, and I should fear to rest yet 
 for a couple of hours. But the country I !:now 
 well, every path and field, so that 1 will not 
 lead your Worship wrong." 
 K 2 
 
196 ' DARNLEY. 
 
 For nearly ten miles more, lighted by neither 
 moon nor stars, did the two travellers proceed, 
 through fields, over gates, and in the midst of 
 woods, through which Longpole conducted with 
 such unerring sagacity, that the young Knight 
 could not help a suspicion crossing his mind, 
 that his guide must have made himself ac- 
 quainted with the paths, by some slight practice 
 in deer-stalking, or other gentle employments of 
 a similar nature. At length, however, they ar- 
 rived in the bottom of a little valley, where a 
 clear quick stream was dashing along, catching 
 and reflecting all the light that remained in the 
 air. On the edge of the hill hung a portion of 
 old forest ground, in the skirts of which was a 
 group of hay-stacks ; and hither Longpole led 
 his master, seeming quite familiar with all the 
 localities round about. " Here, Sir, leap this 
 little ditch and mound. — Wait ! there is a 
 young hedge — now between these two hay- 
 stacks is a bed for a prince. Out upon the 
 grumblers that are always finding fault with 
 Fortune ! The old lady, with her purblind 
 eyes, gives, it is true, to one man a wisp of 
 straw, and to another a cap and plume ; but if 
 he with the wisp wears it as gaily as the other 
 
DARNLEY. 19? 
 
 does his bonnet, why fortune's folly is mended 
 by content. I killed a fat buck in that wood 
 not a month since," continued Longpole ; " but, 
 good your Worship, tell not his Grace of Buck- 
 ingham thereof." 
 
 By such conversation, Longpole strove to 
 cheer the spirits of his young Lord, upon whose 
 mind all the wayward circumstances of his fate 
 pressed with no easy weight. Laying himself 
 down, however, between the two haystacks, 
 while Heartley found himself a similar bed 
 hard by, the young adventurer contrived soon 
 to forget his sorrows in the arms of sleep ; and 
 as he lay there, very inconsiderately began 
 dreaming of Lady Constance de Grey. Sir 
 Payan Wileton also soon took his place on 
 the imaginary scene ; and in all the wild ro- 
 mance of a sleeping vision, they both contrived 
 to tease poor Sir Osborne desperately. At 
 length, however, as if imagination had been 
 having her revel after judgment had fallen 
 asleep, and had then become drowsy herself, 
 the forms melted gradually away, and forget- 
 fulness took possession of the whole. 
 
 It was bright daylight when the Knight 
 awoke, and all the world was gay with sun- 
 
198 DARNLEY. 
 
 shine, and resonant with the universe's matin 
 song. Longpole, however, was still fast asleep, 
 and snoring as if in obstinate mockery of the 
 birds that sat and sang above his head. Yet 
 even in sleep, there was a merry smile upon the 
 honest Englishman''s face, and the Knight could 
 hardly find the heart to wake him from the 
 quiet blessing he was enjoying, to the cares, the 
 fears, and the anxieties of active existence. — 
 " Wake, Richard," said he, at length, " wake ; 
 the sun has risen this hour." 
 
 Up started Longpole, " So he has," cried he ; 
 " well, 'tis a shame, I own, that that same old 
 fellow the sun, who could run alone before I 
 was born, and who has neither sat down nor 
 stood still one hour since, should still be up 
 before me in the morning. But your Worship 
 and I did not go to bed last night so early as 
 he did." 
 
 " Ay !" replied the Knight, " but he will 
 still run on, as bright, as vigorous, and as gay 
 as ever, long after our short race is done." 
 
 " More fool he then," said Longpole ; " he'll 
 be lag last. But how have you determined, Sir, 
 about visiting the noble Duke .?" 
 
DARNLEY. 199 
 
 " I will go, certainly," replied the Knight : 
 " but, good Longpole, tell me, is it far from the 
 manor, for all my food yesterday was imprison- 
 ment and foul words.^' 
 
 " God's life ! your Worship must not com- 
 plain of hunger, then, for such diet soon gives 
 a man a surfeit. But, in troth, His more than 
 one good mile. However, surely we can get a 
 nuncheon of bread at some cottage as we go ; 
 so shall your Worship arrive just in time for 
 his Grace's dinner, and I come in for my share 
 of good things in the second or third hall, as it 
 pleases master yeoman-usher. So let us on, 
 Sir, i' God's name." 
 
 Climbing the hill, they now cut across an an- 
 gle of the forest, and soon came to a wide open 
 down, whereon a shepherd was feeding a fine 
 flock of sheep, singing lightly as he went along. 
 
 SHEPHERD'S SONG. 
 
 The silly beast, the silly beast, 
 That crops the grassy plain, 
 Enjoys more than the monarch's feast, 
 And never tastes his pain. 
 
 Sing oh ! sing oh ! for high degree, 
 I 'd be a sheep, and browze the lee. 
 
200 DARN LEY. 
 
 The 'broidered robe with jewels drest, 
 
 The silks and velvets rare, 
 What are they to the woolly vest 
 Tliat shut out cold and care ? 
 
 Sing oh ! sing oh ! for high degree, 
 A woolly coat 's the coat for me. 
 
 The King he feeds on dainty meat, 
 
 Then goes to bed and weeps. 
 The sheep he crops the wild thyme sweet, 
 And lies him down and sleeps. 
 
 Sing oh ! sing oh ! for high degree, 
 A careless life 's the life for me. 
 
 "This Shepherd will have his hard-pressed 
 curds and his brown bread," said Longpole, 
 "and if your Worship's hunger be like mine, 
 no \Vay dainty, we can manage to break our 
 fast with him, though it be not on manchets 
 and stewed eels." 
 
 The Knight was very willing to try the 
 shepherd''s fare, and bending their course to- 
 wards him, they came up just as he was placing 
 himself under an old oak, leaving his sheep to 
 the care of his dogs, and found him well dis- 
 posed to supply their necessities. His pressed 
 curds, his raveled bread, and his leathern bottle, 
 full of thin beer, were cheerfully produced ; 
 
DARNLEY. 201 
 
 and when the Knight, drawing from his pocket 
 one of the few pieces that had luckily not been 
 placed in his bags, offered to pay for their re- 
 freshment, the honest shepherd would receive no 
 payment ; his good Lord, he said, the Duke of 
 Buckingham, let none of his people want for 
 any thing in their degree, from his chancellor to 
 his shepherd. 
 
 " Content is as good as a King," said Heart- 
 ley, as they proceeded on their way. "But 
 there, does not your Worship catch a glance of 
 the house where those two hills sweep across 
 one another, with a small road winding in be- 
 tween them — ^just as if under yon large mass of 
 chalky stone, that seems detached and hanging- 
 over the path, with a bright gleam of sunshine 
 seen upon the wood beyond ?— i«Do you not see 
 the chimneys. Sir ?" 
 
 " I do, I do," answered Sir Osborne. " But 
 come, let us on, it cannot be far." 
 
 " Not above half a mile," answered Long- 
 pole ; " but we must go round to the other side, 
 for on this lie the gardens, which, as I have 
 heard, are marvellous rich and curious. There 
 may be seen all kinds of foreign fruit, corn 
 K 5 
 
202 DARNLEY. 
 
 trees, capers, lemons, and oranges. And they 
 say, that by a strange way they call graffing, 
 making, as it were, a fool of Dame Nature, they 
 give her a particoloured coat, causing one tree 
 to bring forth many kinds of fruit, and flowers 
 of sundry colours." 
 
 " I have seen the same in Holland," replied 
 the Knight, " where the art of man seems bold- 
 ly, as it were, to take the pencil from Nature's 
 hand, and paint the flowers with what hues he 
 will." 
 
 Walking rapidly on, they soon crossed the 
 fields that separated them from the park, and 
 skirting round the grounds, reached the high 
 road. This ran along for about a mile under 
 the thick massy wall, which, supported by im- 
 mense buttresses, and partially overgrown with 
 ivy, enclosed the domain on all sides. Every 
 here and there some of the old English oaks, 
 the true aboriginal giants of our isle, waved 
 their wide bare arms over the boundary ; while 
 still between, the eye rested on the various hues 
 of tender green which the earlier trees just began 
 to put forth, mingled with the dark shades of the 
 pine and the cedar. The thick wall continued 
 
DARN LEY. 203 
 
 uninterrupted till towards the middle, where, 
 turning abruptly round to the right, it was seen 
 flanking on both hands the wide road that led 
 up to a pair of massy iron gates before the 
 house. On each side of these gates appeared a 
 square tower of brickwork, affording sufficient 
 lodging for the porter and his men ; and round 
 about the doors of which was a crowd of pau- 
 pers already collected", waiting for the daily 
 dole which they received from the table of the 
 Duke. 
 
 Through these Sir Osborne took his way, 
 followed by Longpole, yet not without a sort of 
 murmur amongst the beggar train, who, think- 
 ing all that remained from the dinners in the 
 various halls their own by right, grumbled at 
 every one who went in, as if they thereby re- 
 ceived an injury. 
 
 The gate being open, the Knight entered, 
 and looked round for some one to answer his 
 inquiries. The porter instantly stepped forth 
 from his house, and notwithstanding that the 
 stranger's dress had lost the saucy freshness of 
 its first gloss, he doffed his cap with as much 
 respect as if he had been robed in ermines ; — 
 
204 DARNLEY. 
 
 and thus it may be invariably observed, that 
 where the noble and the great are affable and 
 easy of access, their dependants are, in their 
 station, civil and courteous ; and where, on the 
 contrary, the Lord affects those airs of mis- 
 proud haughtiness, which offers but a poor 
 comment on his mind's construction, his ser- 
 vants never fail, by their insolent rudeness, to 
 afford a fine caricature of their master''s pride. 
 
 " Sir,'' said the porter, doffing his cap with 
 a low bow, imagining that the Knight came to 
 dine at the table in the second hall, to which 
 all strangers of respectable appearance were ad- 
 mitted : "'tis not yet eleven o'clock, and the 
 dinner is never served till noon." 
 
 " That will be more to my purpose," replied 
 the Knight, "as I wish to have audienfce of 
 his Grace, if he be now in Kent." 
 
 '• His Grace walks in the flower-garden," 
 replied the porter, "and I know not whether 
 he may be spoken with ; but follow me, Sir, 
 and I will bring you to his chamberlain." So 
 saying, he led the way across the court, and 
 ascending the steps of the terrace on which the 
 
DARN LEY. 205 
 
 mansion was raised, he pushed open the hall- 
 door^ and conducted the Knight through a 
 merry group of servants, engaged in various 
 sports, into a second hall, where were a number 
 of ecclesiastics and gentlemen, of that inter- 
 mediate grade, which raised them above the 
 domestics, without giving them a title to asso- 
 ciate with the persons admitted to the Duke's 
 own table. 
 
 Here the porter locked round, as if searching 
 for some one amongst the various groups that 
 tenanted the apartment ; and then begging the 
 Knight to wait a moment, he left him. 
 
 Finding that all eyes were fixed upon him 
 with that sort of glance of cool, impertinent 
 inquiry, which few persons scruple to exercise 
 upon a stranger, who comes new into a place 
 where they themselves are at home. Sir Os- 
 borne went up to some fine suits of armour, 
 which were ranged in order at the end of the 
 hall. Amongst the rest, was one of those beau- 
 tiful fluted suits of Milan steel, which are now 
 so rarely met with. It was arranged as for use, 
 and the arm extended, with the gauntlet rest- 
 
206 DARNLEY. 
 
 ing on the pommel of an immense double-hand- 
 ed sword, which was supported by a small rail 
 of iron, placed there as a guard. 
 
 The Knight considered it all with the eyes 
 of a connoisseur, and taking the sword from 
 underneath the gauntlet, drew it partly out of 
 the sheath. 
 
 " You are a bold gentleman," said one of 
 the "starers, coming up to the Knight. " Do 
 you know that these suits are my Lord Duke's ? 
 — What are you going to do with that sword ?" 
 
 " To slit the ears of any one who asks me 
 impertinent questions," answered the Knight, 
 turning suddenly round upon him. 
 
 " Cast him out ! cast him out !" cried a 
 dozen voices. " Who is the beggarly rascal, 
 with his grey doublet ? Cast him out !" 
 
 But the Knight glanced round them with 
 that sort of fierce determined look, which tells 
 that an adversary would have no easy task to 
 master the heart that so lights up the eye ; and 
 though some still cried to cast him out, no one 
 thought fit to approach too near. 
 
 " Peace ! peace !" cried an old ecclesiastic, 
 
DARNLEY. 207 
 
 who had been sitting at the farther extreme of 
 the hall, and who now advanced. " Peace ! 
 see ye not by his spurs the gentleman is a 
 knight. My son," he continued, addressing 
 Sir Osborne, " those arms are the noble Duke 
 of Buckingham'^s, and, out of respect for our 
 patron, those who are admitted to this hall 
 refrain from touching his ten suits. That 
 which seems to have excited your curiosity, 
 was the prize at a tournament, given by an 
 old friend of his Grace some fifteen years ago, 
 and it is one of the most handsome in his pos- 
 session.'** 
 
 " I should not have touched those arms, my 
 good father,'' answered the Knight, " had I 
 not thought that I recognised the suit ; and was 
 drawing the blade to see if it was the same." 
 
 " By what mark would you know it, young 
 gentleman ?" demanded the Priest. 
 
 " If it be that I mean," replied Sir Osborne, 
 " there is written on the blade, 
 
 " I will win my right, 
 Or die in the fight." 
 
 " True, true !" said the clergyman. '^ There 
 
208 DARNLEY. 
 
 is SO ; but you must be too young to have been 
 at that tourney .'^ 
 
 " No matter," said the Knight ; " but, if I 
 mistake not, here is his Grace's chamberlain."' 
 
 As he spoke, a gentleman, dressed in a black 
 velvet suit, with a gold chain round his neck, 
 followed the porter into the hall, and addressed 
 himself to the Knight : "I have communi- 
 cated your desire,'' said he, " to my Lord 
 Duke, who has commanded me to say, that if 
 your business with his Grace be such as may 
 pass through a third person, he prays you to 
 inform him thereof by me ; but if you must 
 needs speak with him personally, he never de- 
 nies his presence to those who really require it." 
 
 Though he spoke with all courtesy, there 
 was something in the manner of the chamber- 
 lain that Sir Osborne did not like ; and he an- 
 swered full haughtily ; " Inform his Grace that 
 my business is for his private ear, and that a 
 moment will show him whether it be such as he 
 can hear with pleasure." 
 
 " Then I have nought left, Sir, but to lead 
 you to his Grace," replied the chamberlain; 
 
DARNLEY. 209 
 
 " though, I am sure, you know that it is not 
 well to trouble great men with small matters." 
 
 " Lead on, Sir," said the Knight, observing 
 the chamberlain's eye glance somewhat criti- 
 cally over his apparel : " my doublet is not 
 very new, you would say ; but if I judge it 
 good enough for your Lord, it is too good for 
 his servant's scorn." 
 
 The chamberlain led on in silence through 
 one of the side doors of the hall, and thence by 
 a long passage to the other side of the dwell- 
 ing, where, issuing out upon the terrace, they 
 descended into a flower-garden, laid out much 
 after the pattern of a Brussels carpet. Form- 
 ed into large compartments, divided by broad 
 , paved walks, the early flowers of the season 
 were distributed in all manners of arabesques, 
 each bed containing those of one particular 
 colour ; so that, viewed from above, the effect 
 was not ugly though somewhat stiff", and gay 
 without being elegant. 
 
 As Darnley descended, he beheld at the 
 farther end a tall, dignified man, of about the 
 middle age, walking slowly up and down the 
 
210 DARNLEY. 
 
 longest walk. He was dressed in one of the 
 straight coats of the day, stiff with gold em- 
 broidery, and the upper part of the sleeve 
 puffed out with crimson silk, and held down 
 with straps of cloth of gold. The rest of his 
 attire was of the same splendid nature : the 
 high breeches of silken serge, pinked with gold — 
 the mirabaise, or small low-crowned bonnet, of 
 rich velvet, with a thin feather leaning across, 
 fastened by a large ruby — the silken girdle, 
 with its jewelled clasp, — all were correspond- 
 ing : and though the dress might not be so ele- 
 gant in its forms, as that which we are accus- 
 tomed to call the Vandyk, yet it was far more 
 splendid in its materials, and had perhaps more 
 of majesty, though less of grace. Two ser- 
 vants walked about ten paces behind, the one 
 carrying in his hand his Lord^s sword, the 
 other bearing an orange, which contained in the 
 centre a sponge, filled with vinegar. 
 
 The Duke himself was busily engaged in 
 reading as he walked, now poring on the leaves 
 of the book he held in his hand, now raising his 
 eyes and seeming to consider what he had just 
 collected. As the young Knight approached. 
 
DARNLEY. 211 
 
 however, he paused, placed a mark between the 
 leaves where he had left off, and advanced a 
 step, with that affable smile and winning cour- 
 tesy, for which he was so famous. 
 
 " I give you good morrow, fair Sir," said he. 
 " jNIy chamberlain says that you would speak 
 with me — Methinks my good fortune has made 
 me see your face before — Say, can Buckingham 
 serve you .^" and as he spoke, he considered the 
 young stranger attentively, as if he did really 
 remember him. 
 
 " Your Grace is ever courteous," replied the 
 Knight ; and then added, seeing that the cham- 
 berlain still stayed—" But in the first place let 
 me say, that what I was unwilling to communi- 
 cate to this your officer, I am equally unwilling 
 to speak before him." 
 
 " Leave us !" said the Duke. " In truth, I 
 know not why you stay. Now, fair Sir, may I 
 crave your name P^' 
 
 " 'Tis now a poor one, my good Lord," re- 
 plied the Knight — ^* Osborne Darnley." 
 
 " Rich, rich, dear youth ! in virtue and in 
 merit," cried the Duke, taking him in his arms, 
 and embracing him warmly — which accolade did 
 
212 DARNLEY. 
 
 not escape the reverted eyes of the chamberlain 
 — " rich in honour and courage, and every good 
 quality. The Lord of Surrey, my good son- 
 in-law, to whom you are a dear companion in 
 arms, wrote me from Ireland some two months 
 past, that I might expect you here ; evolved to 
 me the plans which you have formed to gain 
 the favour of the King ; and prepared me to aid 
 you to the best of my poor power. Hold you 
 the same purpose of concealing your name 
 which you proposed when you wrote from 
 Flanders to Lord Surrey, and which you ob- 
 served when last in this our happy country T'' 
 
 " I do, my good Lord," replied the Knight, 
 " on every account ; but more especially as it is 
 the wish and desire of him I am bound most to 
 honour and obey-^my father." 
 
 " My judgment goes with his and yours," 
 said the Duke, " more especially as for some 
 cause that proud man Wolsey, when, not long 
 since, I petitioned the King to see your noble 
 father, stepped in and stayed the wavering con- 
 sent that hung upon his Grace's lips. But 
 think not, my dear youth, that I have halted in 
 your cause. Far from it ; I have urged your 
 
DARN LEY. 213 
 
 rights with all the noblest and best of the land ; 
 while your own merits, and the high name you 
 have acquired in serving with the Emperor, 
 have fixed your interest on the sure basis of es- 
 teem ; so that, wherever you find a real English 
 heart, and but whisper the name of Darnley, 
 there you shall have a friend — yet, indeed, I 
 have much to complain of in my Lord, your 
 father." 
 
 " Indeed, indeed, your Grace !*" cried the 
 Knight, the quick blood mounting into his 
 cheek. " Some misconception must make you 
 think so. My father, Heaven knows, is full of 
 gratitude and aiFection towards you." 
 
 " Nay, protest not," replied Buckingham, 
 with a smile, " I have the strongest proof of 
 his ingratitude and bad esteem ; for what can 
 be so great a proof of either, as to refuse an 
 offered kindness ?" 
 
 " Oh, I understand your Grace," said Sir 
 Osborne. " But though the noble, the princely 
 offers of pecuniary assistance which your Grace 
 held out to him were declined, my father's gra- 
 titude was not the less. For five long years I 
 have not seen him, but in all his letters he speaks 
 
214 DARN LEY. 
 
 of the noble Duke of Buckingham as one whose 
 ■virtues have shamed him from misanthropy." 
 
 " Well, well !" answered the Duke. " At 
 least remember, you were counted once as my 
 page, when you were a child no higher than my 
 knee : so now with you I will command, whereas 
 with your father I could but beg ; and I will 
 say, that if you use not my house, my servants, 
 and my purse, you hold Buckingham at nought. 
 But we must be more particular : come into my 
 closet till dinner be served, and tell me all, for 
 young soldiers are rarely rich, and I will not 
 have my purpose balked." 
 
 We shall not pursue the farther conversation 
 of the Duke of Buckingham and the young 
 Knight : suffice that the frank generosity of his 
 noble friend easily drew from Sir Osborne all 
 his history, even to the very day. His plans, 
 his wishes, and his hopes ; the conduct of Sir 
 Payan Wileton, and his desperate designs ; his 
 own intention to seek the Court, and strive to 
 win the favour of the King before he disclosed 
 himself — were all displayed before the Duke, who 
 did not fail to encourage him to persevere, both 
 by words of hope and proffers of assistance. 
 
DARNLEY. 215 
 
 "As to your enemy, Sir Payan Wileton," 
 said the Duke, " I know him well — he is a 
 desperate villain — and yet such men are useful 
 in great enterprises. — You say you met that 
 strange but wonderful man Sir Cesar, — Did he 
 not tell you any thing concerning me ? — But 
 no ! he was wise. His Grace the King might 
 die without issue male — and then, God knows ! 
 However, we will not think of that !" And with 
 these dark hints of some more remote and da- 
 ring schemes, the Duke of Buckingham con- 
 tented himself for the time, and returned to the 
 more immediate affairs of him whose interest he 
 now so warmly embraced. But in the midst of 
 their conversation, the controller of the house- 
 hold entered to marshal the way to the ban- 
 quet-hall. 
 
 " What, said you, my dear youth, was the 
 name you had adopted.^" demanded the Duke ; 
 " for I must gain you the acquaintance of my 
 friends.*' 
 
 " Ever since the sequestration of our estates," 
 replied the Knight, " and their transfer to Sir 
 Payan Wileton, I have, when in England, 
 borne the name of Osborne Maurice.'*'' 
 
216 DARNLEY. 
 
 " Osborne Maurice !" said the Duke, with 
 some emphasis, as if he found something ex- 
 traordinary in the name. " How came you to 
 assume that ?" 
 
 *■' In truth, I know not,'^ answered the 
 Knight ; " 'twas fixed on by my father." 
 
 " Yes, I now remember," said the Duke, 
 after musing for a while. " He was a dear 
 friend of my good Lord, your father's — I 
 mean the other Sir Osborne Maurice, who 
 supported Perkyn Warbeck — but 'twill do as 
 well as another — the name is forgotten now." 
 
DARNLEY. 217 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 " Born of noble state, 
 Well could he tourney, and in lists debate." 
 
 Spenser. 
 
 When, as may be remembered, the porter 
 led the Knight into the second hall, our friend 
 Longpole remained in the first, with those of 
 his own degree ; nor was he long in making 
 acquaintance, and becoming intimate with every 
 one round about, from the old seneschal, who 
 took his place in the leathern chair by right 
 of immemorial service, to the sucking serving- 
 man who was hardly yet weaned from his 
 mother's cottage, and felt as stiffly uncomfort- 
 able in his rich livery suit, as a hog in armour, 
 a cat in pattens, or any other unfortunate ani- 
 
 VOL. I. L 
 
218 DARNLEY. 
 
 mal in a garb it has not been accustomed to. 
 For all, and each, Longpole had his joke and 
 his quibble ; he played with one, he jested with 
 the other, and he won the hearts of all. In 
 short, every one was in a roar of laughter when 
 the porter returned from the second hall, fol- 
 lowed by one of those inferior gentlemen, who 
 had just found it inexpedient to follow up his 
 purpose of casting Sir Osborne out. Imme- 
 diately on entering, the porter pointed out 
 Longpole to the other, who advanced and ad- 
 dressed him, with a vastly supercilious air, 
 which, however, did not produce any very 
 awful effect upon the honest fletcher.* 
 
 " So, fellow,"" said he, '^ you are the servant 
 of that gentleman in the old gray doublet." 
 
 " Yes, your Worship, even so," answered 
 Longpole. " My honoured master always 
 wears gray, for when he is not in gray cloth, 
 he goes in gray iron-— and as to its being old, 
 better an old friend than a new foe." 
 
 " And who is your master ? I should like 
 to hear," asked the gentleman. ^ 
 
 * A maker of arrows. 
 
 I 
 
DARNLEY. 219 
 
 " Lord ! does not your Worship know ?'' 
 demanded Longpole, giving a merry glance 
 round the crowd, that stood already well-dis- 
 posed to laugh at whatever he should say. 
 " Bless you, Sir ! my master ""s the gentleman 
 that beat Gog and Magog in single fight, slew 
 seventy crocodiles of the Nile before breakfast, 
 and played at pitch and toss with the cramp- 
 bones of an elephant's hind-leg. — For Heaven's 
 sake don't anger him, he 'd eat a score such as 
 you at a mouthful !" 
 
 " Come, fellow, no insolence, if you mind 
 not to taste the stirrup leather," cried the other, 
 enraged at the tittering of the menials. " You 
 and your master both give yourselves too great 
 airs." 
 
 " Odd's life, your Worship, we are not the 
 only ones !" answered Longpole. " Every 
 Jack carries it as high as my Lord, now-a-days, 
 so I'll not be out o' the fashion." 
 
 " You had better bid your master get a new 
 doublet then," said the gentleman of the second 
 hall, with a look of vast contempt. 
 
 " That your Worship may have the old 
 one .^" asked Longpole, slily. 
 L 2 
 
220 DARNLEY. 
 
 What this might have produced it is impos- 
 sible to say, for a most insupportable roar 
 burst from the servants at Longpole's last 
 thrust ; but at that moment the chamberlain 
 entered from the second hall, and beckoned 
 to the gentleman, who was no other than his 
 cousin. 
 
 " Take care what you say, William,"' whis- 
 pered he ; " that Knight, with whom I find 
 Master Wilmotswood quarrelled about touch- 
 ing the armour, is some great man, depend on 
 it. The Duke sent me away, and then he em- 
 braced him, and hugged him, as he had been 
 his brother ; and the old Controller, who saw 
 him go by, nods and winks, as if he knew who 
 he is, and says that we shall see whether he 
 does not dine at the first table, ay, and near 
 his Grace too, for all his old gray doublet. — 
 Hast thou found out his name ?'" 
 
 " No,"' replied the other. " His knave is as 
 close as a walnut, and does not scruple to break 
 his jests on any one — so 1 11 have no more of 
 him.-' 
 
 Their farther conversation was interrupted 
 by a yeoman of the kitchen presenting himself 
 
DARNLEY. 221 
 
 at the door of the hall, and a cry of " Sewers, 
 Sewers !" made itself heard, giving notice that 
 the noon repast was nearly ready to be placed 
 upon the table. The scene was at once changed 
 amongst the servants, and all was the bustle of 
 preparation ; the Sewers running to serve the 
 dinner, the yeomen of the hall and the butler's 
 men making speed to take their places in the 
 banquet-room, and the various pages and ser- 
 vants of different gentlemen residing in the 
 manor, hurrying to wait on their masters at 
 the table. 
 
 In the midst of this, our friend Longpole 
 felt some doubt what to do. Unacquainted 
 with what had passed between his master and the 
 Duke, and even whether the Knight had made 
 known his real rank or not, Longpole did not 
 well know where to bestow himself. " Odd's 
 life r said he, after fidgeting for a moment on 
 the thorns of uncertainty, " I'll e'en take my 
 chance, and go to the chief hall. I can but 
 walk into the next, if my young master does 
 not show himself soon. — Ho, youngster !" he 
 continued to a page he saw running by, 
 '' which is the way to the Lord's hall?" 
 
222 DARN LEY. 
 
 " Follow ! follow ! quick !" cried the boy ; 
 " I'm going there, to wait for my Lord Aber- 
 gany, and we are too late.'' 
 
 Longpole lost no time, and arrived in the 
 hall at the moment the Controller was arranging 
 the different servants round the apartment. 
 " Stand you here. Sir Charles Poynder's man, 
 why go you higher than Sir William Cecil's ? 
 Sir William is a Banneret. Harry Mathers, 
 you keep there. You Jim, by that cupboard — 
 And who are you ? Who is your master, tall 
 fellow ?''"' he continued, addressing Longpole. 
 
 " Oh, the gentleman that is with the Duke," 
 cried several of the servants, " The gentleman 
 that 4s with the Duke." 
 
 " Why, I know not where he will sit," said 
 the Controller, " but wait about, and stand be- 
 hind his chair. — Now, are you all ranged ? — 
 Bid the trumpets sound.'' 
 
 A loud flourish gave notice to the sewers to 
 serve, and to the various guests to descend to 
 the hall, when in a few minutes appeared Lord 
 Abergany and Lord Montague : and one by 
 one dropped in Sir William Cecil, Sir Charles 
 Poynder, and several other Knights, who, after 
 
DARN LEY. 223 
 
 the various salutations of the morning, fell into 
 groups of two and three, to gossip out the long 
 five minutes which must pass while the Con- 
 troller informed the Duke that the first dish 
 was placed upon the table. 
 
 In the mean while honest Longpole stood by, 
 too anxious to know the reception his Lord had 
 met with, even to jest with those around him, 
 but instead^ he kept examining all the splendid 
 scene, the rich cloth of estate placed for the 
 Duke, the various cupboards of magnificent 
 plate, the profusion of Venice glasses, and all 
 the princely furnishing of the hall and table, 
 with feelings nearly allied to apprehension. At 
 length the voice of the Controller was heard 
 crying, " The Duke ! The Duke ! — Make way 
 there for the Duke !" and in a moment after the 
 Duke of Buckingham entered, leaning with fa- 
 miliar kindness on the arm of the young 
 Knight. 
 
 " My Lord Abergany,"' said the Duke, " my 
 son, and you my Lord Montague, my excellent 
 good friend, before we fall to the cheer that 
 Heaven has given us, let me introduce to your 
 love this much esteemed Knight, Sir Osborne 
 
224 DARNLEY. 
 
 Maurice, of a most noble stock, and what is 
 better still, ennobled by his deeds : and now 
 let us to table. Sir Osborne, you must sit here 
 on my right, so shall you enjoy the conversation 
 of my Lord Abergany, sitting next to you, and 
 yet I not lose yours. Our chaplain is not 
 here — yet let some holy man bless the meat. 
 Lord Montague, you will take my left.'' 
 
 That profound silence now succeeded which 
 ought always to attend so important an avo- 
 cation as that of dining, and the whole worldly 
 attention of every one seemed fixed upon the 
 progress of each dish, which being brought up 
 in turn to the Duke of Buckingham, first sup- 
 plied those immediately around him, and then 
 gradually travelling down the table from person 
 to person, according to their rank, was at length 
 carried out by a servant into the second hall, 
 where it underwent the same perambulation, 
 and was thence transferred to the third. Here, 
 however, its journeys did not cease, for after 
 having thus completed the grand tour, and be- 
 come nearly a finished gentleman, the remnant 
 was bestowed upon the paupers without. 
 
 So different was the order of the dinner from 
 
DARNLEY, 225 
 
 that which we now hold orthodox, and so 
 strange would it appear to the modern epicure, 
 that were not such long descriptions insufferably 
 tiresome, many curious pages might be written 
 to show how a roasted pig, disjointed by the 
 carvers without, was the first dish set upon the 
 table, and also to evince the wisdom of begin- 
 ning with the heavier food, such as beef, mut- 
 ton, veal, and pork, and gradually drawing to 
 the conclusion with capons, herons, pigeons, 
 rabbits, and other more delicate dishes. 
 
 However, as our object is to proceed with 
 our history as fast as possible, we shall not 
 stay to detail the various services, or to defend 
 antiquity against the prejudices of to-day : 
 suffice it, that so great was the noble Duke of 
 Buckingham's attention to his new guest, that 
 Longpole, who stood behind, to hand his master 
 drink, threw forward his chest, and raised his 
 head two inches higher than ordinary, as if all 
 the stray beams of the great man's favour that 
 passed by the Knight lighted upon himself 
 
 The Duke, indeed, strove generously to dis- 
 tinguish his young friend, feeling that misfor- 
 tune has much greater claims upon a noble 
 L 5 
 
226 DARNLEY. 
 
 mind than saucy prosperity. The marks of 
 regard which he gave were such as, in those 
 days, might well excite the wonder of Lord 
 Abergany, who sat next to him. He more than 
 once carved for him himself, and twice invited 
 him to drink, made him notice those dishes 
 which were esteemed most excellent, and spoke 
 to him far more than was usual during the 
 course of dinner. 
 
 At length the last service appeared upon 
 the table, consisting entirely of sweets ; to use 
 the words of Holinshed, "Gelaffes of all co- 
 lours, mired with a variety of representations of 
 sundrie flowers, herbes, trees, forms of beasts, 
 fish, fowls, and fruits, and thereunto marche- 
 paines wrought with no small curiosity ; tarts of 
 divers heads and sundrie denominations ; con- 
 serves of old fruits, foreign and homebred; 
 sackets, codinals, marmalats, sugar-bread, gin- 
 ger-bread, florentines, and sundrie outlandish 
 confections, wherein the sweet hand of the sea- 
 faring Portingal was not wanting." 
 
 Now also came the finer sorts of wines, Mus- 
 cadel, Romanic, and Caprike ; and the more 
 serious part of the banquet being over, the 
 
DARNLEY. 22^ 
 
 con^^ersation became animated and interesting. 
 The young Knight, as a stranger to all, as well 
 as from the marked kindness of the Duke, was 
 of course a general object of attention ; and as 
 the guests easily judged him a traveller lately 
 returned from abroad, many were the questions 
 asked him concerning the countries he had 
 seen, and the wars he had been in. 
 
 Tilts and tournaments then became the sub- 
 ject of discourse ; and at length the Duke filled 
 high a Venice glass with wine, and calling upon 
 all to do the like, " Good Gentlemen,'^ said he, 
 " 'tis seldom that Buckingham will stint his 
 guests, but this is our last just now, for I would 
 fain see a lance broken before night. I know not 
 why, but methinks those sports and exercises, 
 which are thus undertaken at a moment's no- 
 tice, are often more replete with joy than those 
 of long contrivance ; and here is a good Knight, 
 who will balk no man of his humour, when 'tis 
 to strike a strong blow, or to furnish good 
 course. Sir Osborne, to your good health, and 
 may all prosperity and success attend you. 
 Good Lords, and friends, join me in my health." 
 
 Sir Osborne expressed his willingness to do 
 
228 DARN LEY. 
 
 the Duke any pleasure, and to furnish his 
 course with any knight who thought him worthy 
 of his lance. " But your Grace knows,'"* he 
 continued, " that I have come here without 
 arms, and that my horse I lost yesterday, as I 
 explained to you." 
 
 " He would fain excuse himself the trouble," 
 said the Duke, smiling, " because we have no 
 fair lady here to view his prowess ; but, by Hea- 
 vens, I will have my will ! Surely in my ar- 
 moury there is a harness that may suit you, Sir 
 Knight, and in my stables a steed that will 
 bear you stoutly. My Lord of Montague, you 
 are unarmed too ; quick to the armoury, and 
 choose, you. arms. Sir Osborne shall maintain 
 the field, and furnish two courses against each 
 comer. We have not time for more ; and the 
 horse and harness which the good Knight wears 
 shall be the prize. — Ho ! call here the armour- 
 er ! He is a Fleming most expert, and shall 
 choose your suit, Sir Osborne." 
 
 All now rose, and Lord Montague proceeded 
 to the armoury to choose his arms, while the 
 Duke, taking Sir Osborne ' and Lord Abergany 
 into one of the recesses, spoke to them apart for 
 
DARN LEY. 229 
 
 some moments, the effect of which, as it ap- 
 peared, was, that the Duke's kinsman embraced 
 the young Knight heartily. While they were 
 still speaking, the armourer appeared, and with 
 a low reverence approached the Duke. 
 
 " Billenbach,'"' said the Duke, " thou hast an 
 excellent eye, and canst see, to the size of a 
 straw, that a harness be well adjusted. Look 
 at this good Knight, and search out amongst 
 the finest suits in the manor one that may be 
 convenient for him." 
 
 *' 'Tis a damage, your Grace,'' replied the ar- 
 mourer, with the sort of bow a sledge-hammer 
 might be supposed to make — " 'Tis a great da- 
 mage that you are not at Thornbury, for there 
 is the armour that would have well harnessed 
 him. The gelt armour, that is all engrailed 
 with gelt — made for a tall man, and a strong, 
 such as his Worship — very big upon the chest. 
 Then there is the polished suit up-stairs, which 
 might suit him, but I doubt that the greaves be 
 long enough, and I have taken away the barbet 
 and volant from the head-piece to give more 
 light, and 'twould take much time to fasten 
 them on. There are none but the ten suits in 
 
230 DARNLEY. 
 
 the second hall — one of the tallest of them might 
 do — but then they are for your Grace's own 
 wear,"' and he looked mquiringly at the Duke, 
 as if he doubted whether he might not have of- 
 fended by mentioning them. 
 
 " Nay, nay, thou art right, Billenbach,'" ex- 
 claimed the Duke ; " the fluted suit, above all 
 others ! I am sure it will do. Call thy men, 
 and fetch it here ; we will arm him amongst 
 us." 
 
 The armourer obeyed ; and in a few minutes 
 returned with his men bearing the rich suit of 
 fluted armour, which had attracted the Knight's 
 attention in the hall. " Ha ! Sir Osborne,'' 
 said the Duke, " do you remember this ar- 
 mour ? You were present when it was won ; 
 but yet you were too young for that gay day 
 to rest on your memory." 
 
 " Nay, my good Lord, not so," replied the 
 Knight ; "I remember it well, and how gal- 
 lantly the prize %oas won. I doubt not it will 
 fit me." 
 
 " I feel full sure of it," said the Duke, " and 
 that you will fit it, for a better harness was 
 never worn; and Surrey says, and I believe, there 
 
DARNLEY. 231 
 
 never was a better Knight. Come, let us see ; 
 First, for the greaves. Oh, admirable ! Does 
 the knee move free ? But I see it must. Now 
 the corslet ; that will fit, of course. How, fel- 
 low, you are putting the back-piece before ! 
 The breast-plate ! The breast-plate !" 
 
 " This brassard is a little too close," said the 
 Knight. " If you loosen that stud, good ar- 
 mourer, 'twill be better." 
 
 " 'Tis padded, good Sir, near the elbow," 
 said the man ; " I will take out the padding. 
 Will your Worship try the head-piece.'^ Can 
 you see wh ^n the barbet is down .?" 
 
 " Well enough to charge my lance," said the 
 Knight. " These arms are exquisite in beauty, 
 my Lord Duke, but very light." 
 
 " There are none stronger in the world," said 
 the Duke, " and therein lies the excellence; 
 though so light, that one moves in them more 
 freely than in a coat of goldsmith's work, yet 
 they are so well tempered, both by fire and 
 water, and the juice of herbs, that the sword 
 must be of fine steel indeed, that will touch 
 them." 
 
 " One may see it by the polish that they 
 
232 DARNLEY. 
 
 keep,'^ said the Knight. In each groove one 
 may view oneself in miniature, as in a mirror. 
 They are very beautiful." 
 
 " You must v^in them, my young soldier,'' 
 whispered the Duke. " Abergany has gone to 
 arm, with Cecil, and Montague ; but I know 
 their force. And now for the horses. The 
 strongest in my stable, with his chanfron, 
 snaffle-bit, manifaire, and fluted poitrel, (which 
 I have all, point device corresponding with the 
 suit,) goes along as part of the prize. Billen- 
 bach ! take the casque, put a little oil to the 
 visor, and bring it to the lawn of the four oaks. 
 See that the other gentlemen be told that we 
 render ourselves there, where this Knight will 
 answer all comers on horseback, and I will judge 
 the field. Send plenty of light lances ; and as 
 we have not time to put up lists, bid the porter 
 bring seven men with staves to mark the 
 space.'"' 
 
 Thus saying, the Duke led the way towards 
 the stable, speaking to the Knight, as they 
 went, of various matters which they had not 
 discussed in the morning, and making mani- 
 fold arrangements for concentrating all sorts 
 
DARNLEY. 233 
 
 of interest, to produce that effect upon the 
 mind of the King which might lead to the 
 fulfilment of Sir Osborne's hopes. Nor to. the 
 Duke of Buckingham, who was well acquainted 
 with the character of Henry, did the plan of the 
 young Knight seem unlikely to be successful. 
 The sort of diffidence implied by concealing his 
 name, was that thing of all others calculated 
 to win the Monarch's good-will ; and there was 
 also a kind of romantic and chivalrous spirit in 
 the scheme altogether, that harmonised well 
 with the tastes of the King, who would fain 
 have revived the days of the Round-Table, not 
 contented with even the wild, adventure-loving 
 character of the times : and yet. Heaven 
 knows ! those who read the history of the Che- 
 valier Bayard, and the Memoirs of Fleurange, 
 will find scenes and details recorded of that 
 very day, which the novelist dare not venture 
 to portray. 
 
 Only one thing made the Duke anxious in 
 regard to his young protege — the vast splendour 
 and magnificence of the Court of England. 
 He saw that the Knight, accustomed alone 
 to the Court of Burgundy, where merit was 
 
234 DARNLEY. 
 
 splendour, and valour counted for riches, was 
 totally unaware of the thoughtless expense 
 required by Henry. Sir Osborne had, indeed, 
 informed him, that in London he expected to 
 receive from a Flemish merchant the ransom 
 of a Knight and three Esquires, amounting in 
 all, together with the value of their arms, to 
 about three thousand French crowns, which 
 the Duke well knew would little more than 
 pay for the bard and base of his first just ; and 
 yet he very evidently perceived it would be dif- 
 ficult to prevail upon him to accept of any 
 purely pecuniary assistance, especially as he 
 had no time to lay a plan for offering it with 
 any very scrupulous delicacy, Sir Osborne pur- 
 posing to depart after the beverage, or three 
 o'clock meal. 
 
 " Now, Osborne,"' said the Duke familiarly, 
 after they had seen their horses properly ac- 
 coutred, and were proceeding towards the place 
 of rendezvous — " Now you are once more 
 armed at all points, and fit to encounter the 
 best knight in the land; but we must have 
 that tall fellow who serves you armed too, as 
 your Custrel, and mounted ; for as you are a 
 
DARN LEY. 235 
 
 Knight, and certainly errant, I intend to put 
 you upon an adventure — But here come the 
 counterparty. No one but Cecil will run 
 you hard. I last year gave an harness and 
 a purse of a thousand marks as a prize., 
 which Cecil had nearly won from Surrey. — 
 But you must win." 
 
 '' I will do my best, your Grace,'' replied 
 the Knight, '' both for the honour of your 
 Grace's friendship, and for this bright suit, 
 which in truth I covet. To break two spears 
 with all comers — I think your Grace said, that 
 was my task. And if I keep the field with 
 equal success against all — " 
 
 " Of course you win the prize," interposed 
 the Duke. " And if any other gentleman 
 make as good points as yourself, you furnish 
 two more courses with him to decide — But 
 here we are. — Well, my Lords, the horses will 
 be here before the ground be marked. I stand 
 by, and will be an impartial judge." 
 
 It is not easy to imagine, in these times, how 
 the revenues of that age could support the 
 nobles in the sort of unbounded expense in 
 their houses, which has made Old English 
 
236 DARNLEY. 
 
 hospitality a proverbial expression ; but it is 
 nevertheless a certain fact, that from fifty to 
 sixty persons commonly sat to dinner each day 
 in the various halls of every wealthy peer. 
 The boards of those who, like Buckingham, 
 maintained a more than princely splendour, were 
 generally much better furnished with guests; 
 and when he looked round the spot that had 
 been appointed for their morning's amusement, 
 and beheld not more than a hundred lookers- 
 on, all of whom had fed at his own tables, 
 he felt almost disappointed at the scantiness of 
 spectators. " We have more guests at Thorn- 
 bury," said he ; " and yet, porter, you do not 
 keep the ground clear. Gentlemen, these four 
 oaks are the bounds ; I pray you do not come 
 within. — Here are our chargers." 
 
 The fine strong horse which Buckingham 
 had chosen for the young Knight was now led 
 up, harnessed as if for war; and before mount- 
 ing, Sir Osborne could not refrain from walk- 
 ing round to admire him, as he stood pawing 
 the ground, eager to show his speed. The 
 young Knight's heart beat high, and laying 
 his left hand on the neck, he sprang at 
 once from the ground into the saddle, while 
 
DARN LEY. 23? 
 
 the very clang of his new armour, and the 
 feeHng of being once more equipped as he 
 was wont, gave him new life, and hope, and 
 courage. 
 
 Ordered by a whisper from the Duke, the 
 groom beckoned Longpole from the ground, 
 and the armourer taking the sliield and lance, 
 presented them to the young Knight at the end 
 of the course. A note or two was now sounded 
 by the trumpet, and Lord Abergany offered 
 himself on horseback opposite to Sir Osborne, 
 who paused a moment, to observe if he charged 
 his lance at the head-piece or the shield, that, 
 out of compliment to the Duke's relation, he 
 might follow his example. 
 
 " Spur, spur. Sir Osborne !'' cried the Duke, 
 who stood near ; " Abergany comes." 
 
 The Knight struck his spurs into the charger's 
 sides ; the horse darted forward, and the spear, 
 aimed low, struck the fess point of Lord Aber- 
 gany 's shield, and splintered up to the vantplate 
 in Sir Osborne's hand; at the same moment 
 Lord Abergany 's broke upon the young Knight's 
 breast ; and suddenly wheeling their chargers, 
 they regained the opposite ends of the lawn. 
 
 The second lance was broken nearly in the 
 
DARN LEY. 
 
 same manner, with only this difference, that Sir 
 Osborne, having now evinced his respect for 
 his opponent, aimed at the head-piece, which 
 counted a point more. 
 
 Lord Montague now succeeded, laughing 
 good-humouredly as he rode towards his place, 
 and bidding Sir Osborne aim at his head, for it 
 w^as, he said, the hardest part about him. The 
 Knight did as he was desired, and broke his 
 spear twice on the very charnel of his helmet. 
 It being now Sir William Cecil's turn, each 
 Knight charged his spear directly towards the 
 other's head, and galloping on, both lances were 
 shivered to atoms. 
 
 '' Gallantly done ! gallantly done !" cried the 
 Duke of Buckingham, though he began to feel 
 some little anxiety lest the Knight Banneret 
 might carry off the prize, which he had fully 
 intended for Sir Osborne. " Gallantly done ! 
 To it again, gentle Knights." 
 
 The spears were now once more delivered, 
 and setting out as before, each struck the other's 
 head-piece, but Sir William Cecil's, touching 
 obliquely, glanced off, while that of Sir Osborne 
 was again splintered. 
 
DARNLEY. 239 
 
 " Give nie your voices, gentlemen all," cried 
 the Duke, turning to the spectators. " Who 
 has the day ? — Sir Osborne Maurice, I say." 
 
 " Sir Osborne ! Sir Osborne !''' cried a dozen 
 voices ; but one person, no other than he who 
 had thought fit to quarrel Avith the Knight 
 about touching the very armour that he now 
 wore, could not forbear vociferating the name 
 of Sir William Cecil, although, fearful of the 
 Duke's eye, he took care to keep back behind 
 the rest while he did so. 
 
 " Some one says Sir William Cecil," cried 
 the Duke, both surprised and angry. *' What 
 say you yourself. Sir William .?" 
 
 " I say, Sir Osborne Maurice," replied the 
 Banneret, surlily, " because my lance slipped ; 
 but had it not, I think I should have unseated 
 him." 
 
 " He is not easily unseated," said the 
 Duke, " if report speak true. However, the 
 prize is yours. Sir Osborne. — Yet, because one 
 voice has differed from my judgment, if you 
 two Knights will furnish one more course for 
 my satisfaction, I will give a thousand marks 
 for the best stroke." 
 
240 DARN LEY. 
 
 " Your Grace knows that I must soon de- 
 part," said Sir Osborne ; " but nevertheless, I 
 am quite willing, if this good Knight be so, for 
 I am sure his lance slipped merely by acci- 
 dent." 
 
 " Oh, I am very willing !" cried Sir William 
 Cecil, somewhat sharply. " A thousand marks, 
 your Grace says .?" 
 
 " Ay, Sir," replied the Duke, "I do." 
 " 'Tis a tough prize," cried Sir William, 
 " so give me a tough ash spear." 
 
 " To me the same," cried Sir Osborne Mau- 
 rice, not exactly pleased with the tone of his 
 opponent — " 'Tis for the best stroke." 
 
 At this moment Longpole appeared, com- 
 pletely armed, by Buckingham's command, as 
 a custrel, or shield-bearer, and hearing his mas- 
 ter's demand, he searched amongst the spears 
 till he met with one that his practised eye, long 
 used in his quality of fletcher, or arrow-maker, 
 to select the hardest woods, instantly perceived 
 was excellent, and bore it himself to the Knight. 
 The trumpet sounded — both galloped forward, 
 and Sir William CeciFs lance, aimed as before 
 at the Knight^s casque, struck hard : but Sir 
 
DARNLEY. 241 
 
 Osborne was as immoveable as a rock, and 
 though of firm, solid wood, the spear shivered. 
 Not so Sir Osborne's ; borne/orward by a steady, 
 unerring hand, it struck Sir William Cecil's 
 head-piece just under the crest, wrenched away 
 the crest and plume, and still catching against 
 the iron-work, bore him backwards upon the 
 croupiere, and thence with his horse to the 
 ground ; for though Sir Osborne pulled in his 
 rein as soon as he could, it was not before the 
 weight of his charger had overborne that of his 
 opponent, and thrown him far back upon his 
 haunches. 
 
 The servants of Sir William ran up to dis- 
 entangle him ; and finding him considerably 
 hurt by the fall, they bore him away to his 
 apartments in the manor. 
 
 In the mean while, the Duke and his friends 
 were not scanty of the praises which they bes- 
 towed upon the young Knight ; and indeed there 
 might be some sensation of pleasure at Cecil's 
 overthrow, mingled with their approbation of 
 Sir Osborne ; for though a good soldier and an 
 honourable man, the Banneret was overbearing 
 in society with his equals, and insupportably 
 
 VOL. I. M 
 
242 DARNLEY. 
 
 proud towards those of an inferior rank, so 
 that all the servants winked to each other, as 
 he was borne past, taking no pains to conceal 
 their pleasure in his humiliation. 
 
 " I am sorry that Sir William Cecil is hurt," 
 said the Knight, springing off his horse : "^ On, 
 Longpole, after his men, and discover what is 
 his injury." 
 
 " 'Tis no great matter," said Lord Abergany, 
 ''and it will do Cecil no harm that his pride 
 is lowered ; for, in truth, he has lately become 
 beyond all endurance vain. He spoke of quell- 
 ing the mutiny of the shipwrights at Roches- 
 ter, as if his single arm were capable of doing 
 more' than Lord Thomas and all his company. — 
 Well, fellow !" he continued to Longpole, who 
 now returned, " what hurt has Sir William .^" 
 
 " Why, please your Lordship," replied he, 
 "he is neither whole beaten nor whole stran- 
 gled, but a little of both ; for his casque has 
 proved a cudgel, and given him a bloody nose ; 
 and his gorget a halter, and half hanged him." 
 
 " A merry knave !" said the Duke. " Come, 
 Sir Osborne, half an hour still rests before our 
 beverage, that you shall bestow upon me, 
 
DARNLEY. 243 
 
 when you have taken off your casque. Gen- 
 tlemen, amuse yourselves till three, when we 
 will rejoin you in the hall." 
 
 Thus saying, the Duke again led the way to 
 his closet, and concluded all his arrangements 
 with the young Knight, with the same gene- 
 rosity of feeling and delicacy of manner which 
 had characterised all the rest of his conduct 
 towards him. The prize Sir Osborne had won 
 he paid to him as a mere matter of course, 
 taking every means to conceal that it had been 
 offered merely that he might win it. But he 
 also exacted a promise, that whenever the 
 young Knight was in London, he would use 
 his beautiful manor-house of the Rose in St. 
 Lawrence Pountney, as if it were his own, 
 and furnished him with a letter which gave him 
 therein unlimited command over whomsoever 
 and whatsoever it contained. 
 
 " And now," continued Buckingham, " let 
 us speak, my young friend, of the means of 
 introducing you to the King, without my ap- 
 pearing in it ; for I am not well-beloved of the 
 butcher-begotten Cardinal. My cousin, the Ab- 
 bot of the Benedictines, near Canterbury, writes 
 M 2 
 
244 DARNLEY. 
 
 me this morning, that his sister, the Lady Ab- 
 bess, a most holy and devout woman, has with 
 her, even now, a young lady of high station, 
 a woman of the Queen's, one Mistress Kathe- 
 rine Bulmer, who has lately been there to visit 
 and cheer her relation the Abbess, who has 
 somewhat suffered from a black melancholy 
 that all her holy piety can hardly cure ; and 
 also, as he hints, perhaps to tame down the 
 young damseFs own light spirits, which, it may 
 be, soar a pitch too high. However, the time 
 has come that the Queen calls for her lady, 
 and the Abbess must send her back ; but this 
 mutiny of the shipwrights at Rochester puts 
 the good devotees in fear ; and they must 
 needs ask me, (with an, if I be sending that 
 way^ to let the lady journey to the Court at 
 Greenwich, under escort of any of my retainers 
 or friends. If you undertake the charge, our 
 most excellent Queen Katherine will surely 
 give you her best thanks, and make you know 
 the King ; and the mutiny of the shipwrights, 
 who are still in arms, will be a full reason and 
 excuse why you should ride armed. Three of 
 my servants shall accompany you. — Say, does 
 
DARN LEY. 245 
 
 the proposal please you? Will you accept 
 it?" 
 
 " With man}^ thanks,'' replied the Knight; 
 *' your Grace is ever kind and thoughtful for 
 your poor friend's good." 
 
 " Your father once saved my life," answered 
 the Duke, " and I would almost give that life 
 again to see him what he was. See, here is the 
 letter to the Lord Abbot. Let us now back to 
 our friends, or they will think we are plotting 
 treason. — Do you favour the bad habit of beve- 
 rages ? No ! then we will drain one cup, ere 
 you mount, and bid you farewell. 
 
 The Duke now led to the hall, called for a 
 €up of wine, and then pledging the young 
 Knight, together with Lord Abergany and 
 Lord Montague, conducted him to his horse, 
 notwithstanding the opposition which he made 
 to so marked an honour. 
 
 " 'S life !" cried Lord Montague, seeing him 
 still armed : '' Are you going to ride in har- 
 ness ? Three of his Grace's servants armed too ! 
 Why, you are surely going to deliver some cap- 
 tive damsel from the power of a base ravager." 
 
 " Your Lordship is not far wrong," replied 
 
246 DARNLEY. 
 
 the Knight, springing on his horse. " But as 
 it is a secret adventure put upon me by the 
 noble Duke, him you must ask if you would 
 hear more." 
 
 " Oh, the history ! the history ! I pray thee, 
 most princely Buckingham !"' cried Lord Mon- 
 tague. " But the Knight gallops off with his 
 fellow, whom he calls Longpole ; but I doubt 
 me much that both Longpole and Osborne 
 Maurice at times bear other names. — Ha ! my 
 Lord Duke ? Well, well ! Keep your secret — 
 nothing like a little romance. He seems a 
 noble heart, whoever he be." 
 
 With this speech the whole party turned 
 into the mansion ; the generous-hearted Duke 
 congratulating himself on having thus found 
 means to furnish his old friend's son with 
 money and arms, and laying still farther plans 
 for rendering him more extensive and perma- 
 nent service, and the two Lords very well 
 pleased with the little excitement which had 
 broken in upon the sameness of their usual 
 morning amusements. 
 
DARNLEV, 247 
 
 CHAPTER XL 
 
 This is no Father Dominic — no huge overgrown 
 Abbey lubber. 
 
 Spanish Friar. 
 
 Who can depict the feelings of Sir Osborne 
 Maurice as he found himself riding on towards 
 that Court, where, with the ardour of youthful 
 hope, he doubted not to retrieve the fortunes 
 of his family by those qualities which had 
 already acquired for him an honourable fame ? 
 Clothed once more in arms, which for five years 
 had been his almost constant dress, far better 
 mounted than when he first set out, supported 
 by the friendship of some of the best and 
 noblest of the land, and furnished with a sum 
 which he had never dreamed of possessing ; 
 though but starting for the race, he felt as if 
 
248 DARNLEY. 
 
 he already neared the goal ; and looking round 
 upon his four attendants, who were all, as they 
 were termed in that day, especial stout varlets, 
 he almost wished, like a real Knight-errant, 
 that some adventure would present itself, 
 wherein he might signalize himself for the first 
 time in his native country. 
 
 Dame Fortune, however, was coy, and would 
 not favour him in that sort ; and after having 
 ridden on for half an hour, enjoying almost 
 to intoxication the deep draughts of renewed 
 hope, he brought to his side, by a sign, our 
 friend Longpole, who, now promoted to the 
 dignity of custrel, or shield-bearer, followed 
 with the armed servants of the Duke, carrying 
 Sir Osborne's target and spear. 
 
 " Tell me, Longpole," said the Knight, who 
 had remarked his faithful retainer in busy con- 
 versation with his companions, " hast thou 
 discovered why the Duke's servants have not 
 his Grace's cognizance or bearing, either on the 
 breast or arm ?" 
 
 '' Why, it seems, your Worship, that they 
 are three stout fellows who attended the noble 
 Duke in the wars, and they are commanded to 
 
DARNLEY. 
 
 wait upon your Worship till the Duke shall have 
 need of them. Each has his quiver and his 
 bow, besides his sword and pike ; so if we should 
 chance to meet that wolf Sir Payan, or any 
 of his under-wolves, we may well requite 
 them for the day's board and lodging which 
 your Worship had at the manor. We, being 
 five, could well match ten of them ; and besides, 
 the little old gentleman in black velvet told 
 me that your Worship would be fortunate in 
 all things for two months after you got out — 
 but that after that he could not say for — '"* 
 
 " What little gentleman in black are you 
 speaking of?"' interrupted the Knight. " You 
 forget I do not know whom you mean." 
 
 " Ay, true, your Worship," answered Long- 
 pole. " I forgot you were locked up all that 
 while. But you must know that when Sir 
 Payan returned yesterday, he brought with 
 him a little gentleman dressed in a black velvet 
 doublet and crimson hose — but so small, so 
 small, he would be obliged to stand on tip-toe 
 to look me into a tankard. Well, Sir Payan 
 sent for me, and questioned me a great deal 
 about the young lady who had been in with you ; 
 M 5 
 
250 DARN LEY. 
 
 and he thought himself vastly shrewd — for cer- 
 tain he is cunning enough to cheat the devil 
 out of a bed and a supper any day ; but I did 
 my best to blind him, and then he asked me for 
 the key, and said he would keep it himself. 
 So I was obliged to give up the only way I had 
 of helping your Worship ; for I saw by that, 
 that Sir Payan suspected me, and would not 
 trust r^e any more near you, which indeed he 
 did not. Well, he made a speech to the little 
 gentleman, and then left the room ; and I 
 suppose I looked at the bottom of my wits, for 
 the little fellow says to me, ' Heartley ! there 's 
 a window as well as a door.' So I started, 
 first to find he knew my name, and secondly 
 because he knew what I was thinking about. 
 However, I thought there was no use to be 
 angry with a man for picking my pocket of 
 my thoughts without my knowing it; so I 
 took it quietly, and answered, ' I know there 
 is ; but how shall I make him understand 
 what he is to do .?' — ' Tell me what it is,' said 
 he, ' and I will show you how.' So, I don't 
 know why, because he might have been a 
 
DARNLEY. 251 
 
 great cheat — but I told him ; and thereupon 
 he took a bit of parchment from his pocket — 
 it might be half a skin, and a bit of whitish 
 wax, it looked like, out of a bottle, and made 
 as if he wrote upon the parchment; but the 
 more he wrote, the less writing I could see. 
 However, he gave me the piece of parchment, 
 and told me to throw it in at the window after 
 dark, with a heap more. I resolved to try, 
 for I began to guess that the little old gen- 
 tleman was a conjuror ; and when I got into 
 the dark, I found that the paper was all 
 shining like a stinking fish — and your Worship 
 knows the rest.^' 
 
 " He is an extraordinary man," said Sir 
 Osborne. " But did you never hear your 
 father speak of him.^^" 
 
 " I have heard my good dad talk about one 
 Sir Cesar," said Longpole, " but I did not know 
 that this was he. If I had I would have 
 thanked him for many a kind turn he did for 
 the two old folks while I was away. — But 
 does your Worship see those heavy towers 
 standing up over the trees to the left ? That 
 
252 DARNLEY. 
 
 is the Benedictine Abbey, just out of Can- 
 terbury." 
 
 "That is where I am going,*" replied the 
 Knight, " if that be Wilsbourne.'' 
 
 "Wilsbourne or St. Cummin," answered 
 Longpole ; " they call it either. The Abbot is 
 a good man, they say, which is something to 
 say for an Abbot, as days go. Your abbey is 
 a very silent discreet place ; 'tis like purgatory, 
 where a man gets quit of his sins without the 
 devil knowing any thing about it." 
 
 " Nay, nay, you blaspheme the cloister, 
 Longpole," said the Knight ; " I have heard a 
 great deal spoken against the heads of monas- 
 teries, but I cannot help thinking that as most 
 men hate their superiors, some of the monks 
 Avould be sure to blazon the sins of those 
 above them, if they had so many as people 
 say." 
 
 " Faith, they are too cunning a set for that," 
 replied Longpole ; " they have themselves a 
 proverb, which goes to say. Let the world wag, 
 do your own business, and always speak well of 
 the Lord Abbot, so you shall feed well, and fare 
 well, and sleep, while tolls the matin bell But 
 
DARNLEY. 253 
 
 your Worship must turn up here, if you are 
 really going to the Abbey."' 
 
 The Knight signified that such was certainly 
 his intention, and turning up the lane that led 
 across to the Abbey, in about a quarter of an 
 hour he arrived at a little open green, bordered 
 by the high wall that surrounded the gardens. 
 The lodge, forming, as it were, part of the wall 
 itself, stood exactly opposite, looking over the 
 green, with its heavy wooden doors and small 
 loop-hole windows. To it Longpole rode for- 
 ward, and rang the bell ; and on the appear- 
 ance of an old stupid-faced porter, the Knight 
 demanded to see the Lord Abbot. 
 
 " You can see him at vespers in the church, 
 if you like to go any day," said the profound 
 Janitor, whose matter-of-fact mind compre- 
 hended alone the mere meaning of each word. 
 "But I cannot speak with him at vespers," 
 
 said the Knight ; " I have a letter for him 
 
 from his Grace of Buckingham, and must 
 
 speak with him." 
 
 " That is a different case," said the porter ; 
 
 you said you wanted to see the abbot, not to 
 
 speak to him. But come in." 
 
254 DARNLEY. 
 
 " I cannot come in without you open the 
 other gate," said the Knight : " how can my 
 horse pass, old man ?" 
 
 " Light down then," said the porter ; "I 
 shall not let in horses here, unless it be my 
 Lord Abbot's mule, be you who you will !" 
 
 *^ Then you will take the consequences of 
 not letting me in," replied the Knight, " for 
 I shall not light down from my horse till I am 
 in the court." 
 
 ''^ Then you will stay out," said the old man, 
 very quietly shutting the door, much to Sir 
 Osborne's indignation and astonishment. For 
 a moment he balanced whether he should ride 
 on without farther care, or whether he should 
 again make an attempt upon the obdurate por- 
 ter. A moment, however, determined him to 
 choose the latter course, and, catching the bell- 
 rope, he rang a very sufficient peal. — Nobody 
 appeared, and angry beyond all patience, the 
 Knight again clapped his hand to the rope, 
 muttering, '* If you won't hear, old man, others 
 shall;" and pulling for at -least five minutes, he 
 made the whole place echo with the din. 
 
 He was still engaged in this very sonorous 
 
DARNLEY. 255 
 
 employment, when the door was again opened 
 by the porter, and a monk appeared, dressed 
 simply in the loose black gown of St. Benedict, 
 with the cowl, scapulary, and other vestments 
 of a brother of the order. 
 
 " I should think, Sir Knight," said he, " that 
 you might find some better occupation than 
 disturbing myself and brethren here, walking 
 in our garden, without offending you or any 
 one." 
 
 " My good father," answered Sir Osborne, 
 "it is I who have cause to be angry, rather 
 than any one else. I came here for the 
 purpose of rendering a slight service to my 
 Lord Abbot, and am bearer of a letter from 
 his Grace of Buckingham ; and your uncivil 
 porter shuts your gate in my face, because I 
 do not choose to dismount from my horse, and 
 leave my attendants without, though I know 
 not how long it may be convenient for your 
 superior to detain me." 
 
 " You have done wrong," said the monk, 
 turning to the porter ; " first, in refusing to 
 open the gate, next in telling me what was false 
 about it. Open the great gates, and admit the 
 
256 DARNLEY. 
 
 Knight and his train. T shall remember this 
 in the penance." 
 
 The old porter dared not murmur, but he 
 dared very well be slow, and he contrived to be 
 nearly half an hour in the simple operation of 
 drawing the bolts and bars, and opening the 
 gates, which the good monk bore with much 
 greater patience than the Knight, who had 
 fondly calculated upon reaching the village of 
 Sithenburn that night, and who saw the day 
 waning fast in useless retardation. 
 
 At length, however, the doors unclosed, and 
 he rode into the avenue that led through the 
 gardens to the back of the Abbey, the monk 
 preparing to walk beside his horse. A feeling, 
 however, of respect, for a certain mildness and 
 dignity in the old man's manner, induced him 
 to dismount ; and giving his horse to one of the 
 servants, he entered into conversation with his 
 conductor, while, as they went along, his clang- 
 ing step and glistening arms called several of 
 the brethren from their meditative sauntering, 
 to gaze at the strange figure of an armed knight 
 within their peaceful walls. 
 
 " Surely, father," said Sir Osborne, as they 
 
DARNLEY. 257 
 
 walked on, his mind drawn naturally to such 
 thoughts, ''the silent quietude of the scene, and 
 the calm tranquillity of existence, which you 
 enjoy here, would more than compensate for all 
 the fleeting unreal pleasures of the world, with- 
 out even the gratification of those holy thoughts 
 that first call you to this retirement."' 
 
 " There are many who feel it so, my son, 
 and I among them," answered the old man; 
 "but yet do not suppose that human nature 
 can ever purify itself entirely of earthly feel- 
 ings. Hopes, wishes, and necessities, produce 
 passions even here — ^pettier, it is true, because 
 the sphere is pettier. But, depend upon it, no 
 society can ever be so constructed, as to era- 
 dicate the evil propensities of man's nature, or 
 even their influence, without entirely circum- 
 scribing his communion with his fellows. He 
 must be changed, or solitary, — must have no 
 objects to excite, or no passions to be excited, 
 — he must be a hermit, or a corpse, have a 
 desert, or the grave." 
 
 " 'Tis a bad account of human nature," said 
 the Knight. " I had fancied that such feelings 
 as you speak of were unknown here, — that at 
 
DARNLEY. 
 
 all events religious sentiments would correct 
 and overcome them." 
 
 " They do correct, my son, though they can- 
 not overcome them," said the monk. " I spoke 
 of monastic life merely as a human institution ; 
 and even in that respect we are likely to meet 
 with more tranquillity within such walls as 
 these, than perhaps anywhere else ; because the 
 persons who adopt such a state from choice, 
 are generally those of a calm and placid dispo- 
 sition, and religion easily effects the rest. But 
 there are others, driven by disappointment, by 
 satiety, by caprice, by fear, by remorse, by 
 even pride ; and urged by bad feelings from 
 the first, those bad feelings accompany them 
 still, and act as a leaven amongst those with 
 whom they are thus forced to consort. Even 
 when it is but sorrow that, weaning from 
 worldly pleasure, brings a brother here, often 
 the sorrow leaves him, and the taste for the 
 world returns, when an irrevocable vow has 
 torn him from it for ever ; or else, if his grief 
 lasts, it becomes a black and brooding melan- 
 choly, as different from true religion, as even 
 the mad gaiety of the thoughtless crowd. 
 
DARNLEY. 259 
 
 There was a youth here, not long ago, who was 
 wont to call the matin bell, the knell of broken 
 hearts. Others, again, circumscribed in the 
 range of their feelings, become irascible from 
 the very restraint, and vent their irritability on 
 all around them." 
 
 " But example in the superior does much," 
 said the Knight ; " and I have heard that 
 your Lord Abbot" 
 
 " Whether you are about to praise, or 
 blame," said the monk, " stop ! — I am the 
 Abbot. If it were praise you were about to 
 speak, I could not hear it in silence ; if "'twere 
 blame, I would fain save you the pain of utter- 
 ing to my own ears what many doubtless say 
 behind my back." 
 
 " Indeed, my Lord Abbot," answered the 
 Knight, " I had nothing to speak but praise ; 
 and had it been blame, I would sooner have 
 said it to yourself than to one of your monks. 
 But to the business which brings me hither. 
 His Grace the Duke of Buckingham, by this 
 letter, commends him to your Lordship, and, 
 knowing that I purpose journeying to the 
 Court, he has desired me to conduct, and pro- 
 
 \ 
 
 V 
 
260 DARN LEY. 
 
 tect with my best power, a young lady, whose 
 name I forget, till I have rendered her safely 
 to her royal mistress Queen Katherine." 
 
 " I thank you for the trouble you have 
 already taken, my son. We will in to the 
 scriptorium," said the Abbot, " and when I 
 have perused his Grace''s letter, will have the 
 lady informed that you are here." 
 
 Although that art was rapidly advancing, 
 which soon after entirely superseded the neces- 
 sity of manual transcription for multiplying 
 books, yet the Scriptorium, or copying-room, 
 was still not only to be found, but was also 
 still employed for its original purpose in almost 
 every abbey or monastery of consequence. In 
 that of the Benedictines of Wilsbourne, it was 
 a large oblong chamber, vaulted with low 
 Gothic arches, and divided into various small 
 compartments by skreens of carved oak. Each 
 of these possessed its table and writing appa- 
 ratus ; and in more than one, when Sir Osborne 
 entered, was to be seen a monk copying some 
 borrowed manuscript, for the use of the Abbey. 
 The approach of the Abbot, whose manners 
 seemed to possess a great deal of primeval sim- 
 
DARNLEY. 261 
 
 plicity, did not in the least derange the copy- 
 ists in their occupation ; and it is probable that, 
 when unengaged in the immediate ministry of 
 his office, he did not exact that ceremonious 
 reverence, to which the Mitred Abbot was by 
 rank entitled. 
 
 In politeness, as in every thing else, there are 
 of course various shades of difference, very per- 
 ceptible to observation, yet hardly tangible by 
 language : thus, when the Abbot had read the 
 Duke of Buckingham's letter, the character 
 which it gave of Sir Osborne, caused a very 
 discernible change to take place in his manner, 
 thouo^h in what it consisted it would be difficult 
 to say. He had always been polite, but his po- 
 liteness became warmer ; when he spoke, it was 
 with a smile ; and, in short, it was evidently an 
 alteration in his mind, from the mere feeling of 
 general benevolence, which inhabits every good 
 bosom, to the sort of individual kindness, which 
 can only follow some degree of acquaintance. 
 He expressed much gratification at the idea of 
 Lady Katrine Bulmer having the advantage of 
 the Knight's escort, more especially, he said, as 
 the news from Rochester became worse and 
 
262 DARNLEY. 
 
 worse. But Sir Osborne, he continued, had 
 better speak with the lady herself, when they 
 could form such arrangements as might be found 
 convenient ; for Lady Katrine had a good deal 
 of the light caprice of youth, and loved to fol- 
 low her own fantasies. He then sent some direc- 
 tions to the Prior, concerning matters of disci- 
 pline, and gave orders that the attendants of 
 Sir Osborne should be brought to the Hos- 
 pitaler, whose peculiar charge it was to enter- 
 tain guests and strangers ; and this being done, 
 he led the way towards that part of the Abbey 
 which contained the Sisters of the Order, pre- 
 ceded by a monk bearing a large key. 
 
 Separated throughout by a wall of massy ma- 
 sonry, no communication existed between the 
 two portions of the building, except by a small 
 iron door, the key of which always remained 
 with the Abbot, and by some imderground 
 communications, as it was whispered, the know- 
 ledge of Avhich was confined also to his own 
 bosom. Of these subterranean chambers, many 
 dark tales of cruelty and unheard-of penances 
 were told, as having happened in former ages, 
 when monastic sway had its full ascendant ; but 
 
DARNLEY. 263 
 
 even their very existence was now doubtful; 
 and when any one mentioned them before the 
 Abbot, he only smiled, as a man will do at the 
 tales of wonder that amaze a child. However 
 that may be, the way by which he led the 
 young Knight to the female side of the mo- 
 nastery, was simply through the cloisters ; and 
 having arrived at the door of communication, 
 he took the key from the bearer, unlocked it 
 himself, and making the Knight pass into the 
 cloister on the other side, he locked the door 
 and rejoined him. 
 
 The place in which they now were, was a 
 gloomy arcade, surrounding a small square 
 court, in the centre of which appeared a statue 
 of Scholastica, the sister of Saint Benedict ; and 
 several almost childish ornaments evinced the 
 pious designs of the good sisters to decorate 
 their Patroness. But notAvithstandin^ all their 
 efforts, it was a dreary spot. The pointed 
 arches of the cloister resting upon pillars of 
 scarce a foot in height — the thick embellish- 
 ments of stone-work, forming almost what he- 
 ralds would call a hordure fieuree round the 
 archways — together with the towering height of 
 
264 DARNLEY. 
 
 the buildings round about, took away the scanty 
 light that found its way into the deep recesses 
 of the double aisle, and buried all the second 
 or inner row of arches in profound shadow. 
 
 Another small door appeared on the left of 
 the Abbot, who still held the key in his hand, 
 but stopping, he pointed along the cloister to 
 the right, and said, " My son, I must here 
 leave you, for I go to my sister's apartment, 
 to have the lady called to the grate, and no 
 layman must pass here : but if you follow that 
 arcade round the court, till you see a passage 
 leading again towards the light, (you cannot 
 miss your way,) you will come to the convent 
 court,- as it is called, and exactly opposite you 
 will find a door which leads to the grate. There 
 I will rejoin you."*' 
 
 The Knight followed the Lord Abbot's di- 
 rection, and proceeding round the first side of 
 the square, was turning into the second, when 
 he thought he saw the flutter of a white gar- 
 ment in the shadowy part of the inner aisle. 
 " It is some nun," thought he ; but a moment's 
 reflection brought to his mind that the habit of 
 the Benedictines was always black ; and it may 
 
DARNLEY. 265 
 
 be that curiosity made him take a step or two 
 somewhat faster than he did before. 
 
 " Open the door, and make haste, Geraldine,"" 
 said a female voice in a low tone, but one that, 
 nevertheless, reverberated by the arches, reached 
 the Knight's ears quite distinctly enough for 
 him to hear the lady proceed. 
 
 " He must be on horseback, I think, by the 
 quickness of his pace, and the clanking of his 
 hoofs. Cannot you open it ?" 
 
 " Run across the court then, silly wench, 
 quick ! or Gogmagog will have you ;"" and with 
 a light laugh, the lady of the white robe 
 darted out from the archway, and tripped 
 gracefully across the court, with her long veil 
 flowing back from her head as she ran, and 
 showing fully the beautiful brown hair with 
 which it was mingled, and the beautiful sunny 
 face which it was meant to hide, but which, 
 fully conscious of its own loveliness, was now 
 turned with a somewhat playful, somewhat in- 
 quisitive, somewhat coquettish glance, towards 
 the Knight. 
 
 Following close behind her, was a pretty young 
 woman, dressed as a servant maid, who ran on 
 
 VOL. I. N 
 
966 DARN LEY. 
 
 without looking to the right or left, and who, 
 probably being really frightened, almost tum- 
 bled over her mistress, not perceiving that she 
 slackened her pace as she reached the other side 
 of the court. It thus happened, that she trod 
 on the young lady's foot, who uttered a slight 
 cry, and leaned upon the servant for support. 
 
 As may be imagined. Sir Osborne was by 
 her side in a moment, expressing his hopes that 
 she was not hurt, and tendering his services 
 with knightly gallantry ; but the lady sud- 
 denly drew herself up, made him a low curtsey, 
 and stiffly thanking him for his attention, 
 walked slowly to the door by which the Abbot 
 had entered. 
 
 Not very well pleased with the reception his 
 politeness had met, the Knight proceeded on 
 his way, and easily found the passage which 
 the Abbot had described, leading, as he had 
 been told, into the larger court, exactly oppo- 
 site the door by which visitors were usually 
 admitted. This door, as usual, stood open ; 
 and mounting the steps^ Sir Osborne proceeded 
 on into a small room beyond, separated from 
 
DARNLEY. 267 
 
 the parlour by a carved oak partition, in the 
 cfentre of which was placed the trellis work of 
 gilded iron, called the grate. 
 
 Nobody appearing on the other side, Sir 
 Osborne cast himself upon the bench, with 
 which one side of the room was furnished, and 
 waited patiently for the appearance of the lady, 
 abandoning now, of necessity, the idea of pro- 
 ceeding farther that night. After having wait- 
 ed for a few minutes, a light step met his ear ; 
 and without much surprise, for he had already 
 guessed what was the fact, he saw the same lady 
 approach the grate whom he had met in the 
 court. Rising thereupon from his seat, he ad- 
 vanced to the partition, and bowed low, as if to a 
 person he had never seen. The lady, on her part, 
 made him a low curtsey, and both remained silent, 
 
 "I am here," said the Knight, after a long 
 pause, " to receive the commands of Lady Ka- 
 trine Bulmer, if I have now the honour of 
 speaking to her ?"' 
 
 " My name is Bulmer, Sir Knight," replied 
 the lady, " and eke Katrine, and some folks 
 call me Lady, and some Mistress ; but by 
 N 2 
 
268 DARNLEY. 
 
 what my Lord Abbot and my Lady Abbess 
 just tell me, it seems that I am to receive your 
 commands rather than you to receive mine.""* 
 
 " Very far from it, Madam," said the 
 Knight ; "you have but to express your wishes, 
 and they shall be obeyed." 
 
 " There now V cried the lady, with an air 
 of mock admiration ; "Sir Knight, you are the 
 flower of courtesy ! Then you do not posi- 
 tively insist on my getting up at five to-mor- 
 row morning to set out, as my Lord Abbot 
 informed me ? — a thing I never did in my life, 
 and which, please God, I never will do." 
 
 " I insisted upon nothing, Madam," answer- 
 ed the Knight ; " I only informed my Lord Ab- 
 bot that it would be more convenient to me to 
 depart at an early hour ; and I ventured to 
 hint, that if you knew of how much importance 
 it might be for me to arrive at the Court soon, 
 you would gratify me by using all the dispatch 
 which you might, with convenience to yourself." 
 " Then it is of importance to you ?" demand- 
 ed the lady : " that changes the case ; name the 
 hour. Sir Knight, and you shall find me ready. 
 
DARNLEY. 269 
 
 — But you know not what a good horsewoman 1 
 am ; I can make long journeys and quick ones." 
 
 " Not less than two days will suffice, I fear,"" 
 said the Knight : " the first day we may halt at 
 Gravesend — '''' 
 
 "Halt!" exclaimed the lady, laughing and 
 turning to her woman, who stood at a little 
 distance behind, — " do you hear that ? Halt ! 
 He talks to me as if I were a soldier. — Tell me, 
 Geraldine, is it possible that I look like a pike- 
 man r 
 
 " Not any way like a soldier,'" replied the 
 Knight, sufficiently pleased with her liveliness 
 and beauty, to forget her pertness ; " not any 
 way like a soldier, unless it be one of Heaven's 
 host." 
 
 " Gracious God !'** cried the lady, " he says 
 pretty things ! Only think of a man in armour 
 being witty ! But really. Sir Knight, it 
 frightens me to see you all wrapped up in horrid 
 steel. Can it possibly be, that these Rochester 
 shipwrights are so outrageous, as to require a 
 belted Knight with lance in rest for the escort 
 of a simple girl like me ?'' 
 
270 DARNLEY. 
 
 "Men are wont to guard great treasures 
 with even superfluous care,'"* replied Sir Os- 
 borne. The lady made him a very profound 
 curtsey, and he proceeded : " This was most pro- 
 bably the Lord Abbot's reason, for sending to 
 request some escort from the Duke of Bucking- 
 ham ; for though I hear of some riot or tumult 
 at Rochester, I cannot suppose it very serious. 
 However, all I know is this, — that the Right 
 Reverend Father did send, while I was there 
 jousting in the park, and understanding that I 
 was about to proceed to London, his Grace re- 
 signed to me the honour of conducting you 
 safely thither." 
 
 '' What, then, you are not one of the Duke's 
 own Knights .^'" exclaimed Lady Katrine. 
 
 "I am no one's Knight," replied Sir Os- 
 borne with a smile, " except it be the King's 
 and your's — if such you will allow me to be." 
 
 " Oh, that I will !" answered the lady, '•' I 
 should like a tame knight above any thing :— 
 but, in troth, I have spoken to you somewhat 
 too lightly. Sir." She proceeded more gravely : 
 " From what my Lord uncle Abbot told me, 
 I judged the Duke had sent me one of his house- 
 
DARNLEY. 2Ji 
 
 hold Knights* — men who having forty pounds 
 a-year, have been forced to receive a slap on 
 the shoulder, for the sake of the herald's fee ; 
 and then, having nought to do that may become 
 the Sir, they pin themselves to the skirts of 
 some great man's robe, to do both knightly and 
 unknightly service." 
 
 " Such am not I, fair lady," replied Sir 
 Osborne, a little piqued that she could even 
 have supposed so. " I took my knighthood 
 in the battle-plain, from the sword of a great 
 monarch ; and so long as I Kve, my service 
 shall never be given but to my Lady, my King, 
 or my God !" 
 
 *' Nay, nay, do not look so fierce, man in 
 armour," answered Lady Katrine, relapsing 
 
 * It will be found in the description of Britain by Ho- 
 linshed, that even in his days, it was held that any man 
 possessing land producing an annual rent of forty pounds 
 (called a Knight's fee) could be called upon to undergo 
 the honour of knighthood, or to submit to a fine. This 
 was sometimes enforced, and the consequence was often 
 what Lady Katherine insinuated, as few of the more pow- 
 erful nobles of the day did not entertain more than one poor 
 Knight in their service. These, however, were looked 
 upon in a very different light from those whose knighthood 
 had been obtained by military service. 
 
272 DARNLEY. 
 
 into her merriment. " Both from your man- 
 ner and your mien, I should have judged dif- 
 ferently, if I had thought but for a moment ; 
 But do not you see, I never think ? I take a 
 thing for granted, and then go on acting upon 
 it, as if it were really true. — But, as I said, you 
 shall be my knight, and before we reach the 
 Court, I doubt not I shall have a task to give 
 you, and a guerdon for your pains, if the good 
 folks of Rochester do not cut our throats in the 
 mean while. But what hour did you say, Sir 
 Knight, for setting out ? for here my poor 
 wenches have to make quick preparations of all 
 my habits." 
 
 " I have named no hour," replied Sir Os- 
 borne ; " but if you will do me the honour to 
 let me know when you are ready to-morrow, 
 my horses shall stand saddled from six in the 
 morning." 
 
 " But how am I to let you know?" demanded 
 the lady, " unless I take hold of the bell- 
 rope, and ring matins on the convent bell ; and 
 then all the good souls will wink their eyes, 
 and think the sun has turned lie-a-bed. Dear 
 heart. Sir Knight, you do not suppose that the 
 
DARNLEY. ^3 
 
 monks and the nuns come running in and out 
 between the two sides of the Abbey, like the 
 busy little ants in their wonderful small cities ? 
 No, no, no, norxe comes in here but my Lord 
 Abbot and an old confessor or two, so deafened 
 with the long catalogue of worldly sins, that they 
 would not hear my errand, much less do it. 
 But, now I think of it, there is a good lay 
 sister ; her I will bribe with a silver piece, to 
 risk purgatory by going round to the front 
 gate of the Abbey, and telling the monk when 
 I am ready. And now, good Sir Knight, I 
 must go back to my Lord Abbot, and fall down 
 upon my knees and beg pardon ; for I left him 
 so offended, that he would not come down with 
 me, because I was pert about going early. 
 Farewell ! Judge not harshly of me till to- 
 morrow ; perhaps then I may give you cause — 
 who knows ?" 
 
 Thus saying, she tripped lightly away with 
 a gay saucy toss of the head, like a spoiled 
 diild, too sure of pleasing to be heedful about 
 doing so. As she turned away, the maid ad- 
 vanced to the grate, and informed Sir Osborne 
 that the Lord Abbot would meet him at the 
 n5 
 
274! DARNLEY. 
 
 place where they had parted ; upon which in- 
 formation, the Knight re-trod his steps to the 
 little court of the cloisters, where he found the 
 Abbot pacing up and down, with a grave and 
 thoughtful countenance. 
 
 " I am afraid. Sir Osborne Maurice," said 
 he, as the Knight approached, " that the young 
 lady you have just left, has not demeaned her- 
 self as I could have wished towards you; for 
 she left me in one of those flighty moods, which 
 I had good hope would have been cured by her 
 stay in the convent." 
 
 " She expected to find you still with the 
 Lady Abbess," said Sir Osborne, avoiding the 
 immediate subject of the Abbot's inquiry; 
 " and went with the intention of suing for par- ' 
 don of your Lordship, having given you, she 
 said, some offence." 
 
 " I am glad to hear it, with all my heart," 
 said the monk, " for then she is penitent, which 
 is all that God requires of us, and all that we 
 can require of others. Indeed, her heart is 
 good, and though she commits many a fault, 
 yet the moment after she repents, and would 
 fain amend it. But come. Sir Knight, though 
 
DARNLEY. 275 
 
 our own rules are strict, we must show our 
 hospitality to strangers, and I hope our refec- 
 tioner has taken care to remember that you will 
 partake the fare of my table to-night. But 
 first you had better seek your chamber, and 
 disencumber yourself of this armour, which, 
 though very splendid, must be very heavy. 
 Ho ! Brother Francis, tell the hospitaller to 
 come hither and conduct the Knigjit to his 
 apartment." 
 
 While this short conversation was taking 
 place, the Abbot had led Sir Osborne back into 
 the cloisters on the male side of the building ; 
 and proceeding slowly along towards the wing 
 in which was the Scriptorium, and other apart- 
 ments of general use, they were soon met by 
 the hospitaller, who led the Knight to a neat 
 small chamber, furnished with a bed, a cruci- 
 fix, and a missal. Here the worthy officer of 
 the convent essayed with inexpert hands to dis- 
 engage the various pieces of the harness, speak- 
 ing all the while, and asking a thousand idle 
 questions, with true monastic volubility, with- 
 out giving Sir Osborne either time to hear or to 
 reply. 
 
276 DARNLEY. 
 
 " Stay, stay !" said the Knight, at length, as 
 the old man endeavoured to unbuckle the cuis- 
 sards, " you cannot do it, my good father ; and 
 besides, it is an unworthy task for such a holy 
 man as you." 
 
 " Not in the least, my son, not in the least," 
 replied the monk ; " but, as I was saying, I dare 
 say you have heard how the Lord Mayor and 
 his men went to Hogsden Lane, especially if 
 you have been lately in London ; — or have you 
 been down into Cornwall, allaying the Cornish 
 tumultuaries ? — A-well ! A-well ! — It is very 
 odd I cannot get that buckle out — Though per- 
 haps, my son, you can tell me whether the 
 Prior of Gloucester has embraced the miti- 
 gated rule, instead of the severe ; and indeed 
 the mitigated is severe enough : four days'* fast 
 in the week ! — If the Duke of Buckingham 
 were to send us another fat buck, as he did 
 last year-^but I forgot, it is not the season — 
 Alack, alack, all things have their times and 
 seasons, and truly I am of the season of old 
 age : though, God help us ^11 ! — I believe I must 
 call your shield-bearer, for I cannot get the 
 buckle out." 
 
DARNLEV. 277 
 
 " Do so, my good father," said the Knight, 
 glad enough to get rid of him, " and bid him 
 bring my casque hither." 
 
 Accordingly our friend Longpole was soon 
 brought to Sir Osborne's chamber, and by his 
 aid the Knight easily freed himself from that 
 beautiful armour, which we, who are in the 
 secret of all men's minds, may look upon as in a 
 great degree a present from the Duke of Buck- 
 ingham, although Sir Osborne himself did not 
 begin to suspect that the just and the prizes 
 had been entirely given to furnish him with 
 money and arms, till the lapse of two or three 
 days allowed calm consideration to show him 
 the events in their true colours. 
 
 After once more admiring for a moment or 
 two the beauty of the suit, and having given 
 directions for its being carefully cleansed of all 
 damp that it might have acquired in the road, 
 he descended to the table of the Lord Abbot, 
 which he found handsomely provided for his 
 entertainment. 
 
 To the wine, however, and the costly viands 
 with which it was spread, the Abbot himself 
 did little justice, observing almost the rigid 
 
278 DARNLEY. 
 
 abstinence of an ascetic; but to compensate 
 for his want of good-fellowship, the Prior and 
 Sub-prior, who shared the same table, found 
 themselves called upon to press the stranger 
 to his food, and to lead the way. 
 
DARNLEY. 279 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 To-day is ours ! Why do we fear ? 
 To-day is ours ! We have it here. 
 Let 's banish business, banish sorrow, 
 To the gods belong to-morrow. 
 
 Cowley. 
 
 I have dreamed 
 Of bloody turbulence. 
 
 Shakspeare. 
 
 In profound silence will we pass over Sir 
 Osborne's farther entertainment at the Abbey ; 
 as well as how Longpole contrived to make 
 himself merry, even in the heart of a monas- 
 tery ; together with sundry other circumstances, 
 which might be highly interesting to that class 
 of pains- taking readers, who love every thing 
 that is particular and orderly, and would fain 
 make a historian not only tell the truth, but 
 
280 DARNLEY. 
 
 the whole truth, even to the colour of his 
 heroine's garters. For such curious points, 
 however, we refer them to the scrupulously 
 exact Vonderbrugius, who expends the greater 
 part of the next chapter upon the description 
 of a flea-hunt, which Longpole got up in his 
 truckle-bed in the monastery; and who de- 
 scribes the various hops of the minute vampire, 
 together with all that Longpole said on the oc- 
 casion, as well as the running down, the taking, 
 and the manner of the death, with laudable in- 
 dustry and perseverance. But for the sake of 
 that foolish multitude, who interest themselves 
 in the fate and adventures of the hero, rather 
 than in the minor details, we will pass over the 
 whole of the next night much in the same man- 
 ner as Sir Osborne, who, sound asleep, let it 
 fleet by in silence undisturbed. 
 
 His horses, however, were scarcely saddled 
 and his four attendants prepared the next morn- 
 ing, than he was informed that the Lady Katrine 
 Bulmer was ready to depart; and proceeding 
 on foot to the great gates of the Abbey, which 
 fronted the high-road, on the other side from 
 that on which he had entered, he found her 
 
DARN LEY. 281 
 
 already mounted on a beautiful Spanish jennet, 
 with her two women and a man, also on horse- 
 back. By her side stood the Abbot, with 
 whom she had now made her peace, and who, 
 kindly welcoming Sir Osborne, led him to the 
 young lady. 
 
 " Sir Knight," said he, " I give you a pre- 
 cious charge in this my dead sister's child, and 
 I give her toholly to your charge, with the most 
 perfect confidence, sure that you will guide her 
 kindly and safely to her journey's end. And 
 now, God bless you and speed you, my child,'' 
 he continued, turning to the young lady ; " and 
 believe me, Kate, there is no one in the wide 
 world more anxious for your happiness than 
 your poor uncle." 
 
 " I know it, I know it, dear uncle," an- 
 swered the lady, " and though I be whimsical 
 and capricious, do not think your Katrine does 
 not love you too :" a bright drop rose in her 
 eye, and crying, " Farewell ! farewell !'* she 
 made her jennet dart forward, to conceal the 
 emotion she could not repress. 
 
 The Knight sprang on his horse, bade fare- 
 well to the Abbot, and galloped after Lady 
 
282 DARNLEY. 
 
 Katrine, who drew in her rein for no one, but 
 rode on as fast as her steed would go. However, 
 notwithstanding her jennefs speed, Sir Osborne 
 was soon by her side ; but, seeing a tear upon 
 her cheek, he made no remark, and, turning 
 round, hel^l up his hand for the rest to come 
 up, and busied himself in giving orders for the 
 arrangement of their march, directing the two 
 women, with Lady Katrine's man, and Longpole, 
 to keep immediately behind, while the three at- 
 tendants given him by the Duke concluded the 
 array. The young lady's tears were soon dis- 
 persed, and she turned laughing to her wo- 
 men, who came up out of breath with the rapi- 
 dity of their course. " Well, Geraldine,'' she 
 cried, " shall I go on as quick ? Should I not 
 make an excellent knight at a just. Sir Os- 
 borne ? Oh, I would furnish my course with 
 the best of you. I mind me to try the very 
 next justs that are given." 
 
 " Where would you find the man,'' said Sir 
 Osborne, " to point a lance at so fair a breast ? 
 unless it be Cupid's shaft." 
 
 " Ah, Sir Osborne Maurice," answered the 
 lady, " you men jest when you say such things ; 
 
DARNLEY. 283 
 
 but you know not sometimes what women feel. 
 But trust me, that same Cupid's shaft that you 
 scoff at, because it never wounds you deeply, 
 sometimes lodges in a woman's breast, and 
 rankling there will pale her cheek, and drain 
 her heart of every better hope." 
 
 The lady spoke so earnestly that Sir Os- 
 borne was surprised, and perhaps looked it ; for 
 instantly catching the expression of his eye. 
 Lady Katrine coloured, and then breaking out 
 into one of her own gay laughs, she answered 
 his glance as if it had been expressed in speech, 
 " You are mistaken ! quite mistaken !" said 
 she, " I never thought of myself. Nay, my 
 Knight, do not look incredulous ; my heart is 
 too light a one to be so touched. It skims like 
 a swallow o'er the surface of all it sees, and the 
 boy archer nmy spend his shafts in vain ; its 
 swift flight mocks his slow aim. But to con- 
 vince you — when I spoke," she proceeded in a 
 lower voice, " I alluded to that poor girl, 
 Geraldine, who rides behind. Her lover was a 
 soldier ; who, when Tournay was delivered to 
 the French, was left without employment, and 
 after having won the simple wench's heart, and 
 
284 DARNLEY. 
 
 promised her a world of fine things, he went 
 as an adventurer to Flanders, vowing that he 
 would get some scribe to write to her of his 
 welfare ; and that as soon as he had made suf- 
 ficient, what with pay and booty, they would 
 be married; but eighteen months have gone, 
 and never a word," 
 
 ^^ What was his name ?'' asked the Knight ; 
 " I would wish much to hear." 
 
 *' Hal Williamson, I think she calls him," 
 said the lady : " but it matters little ; the poor 
 girl has nigh broke her heart for the unfaithful 
 traitor." 
 
 " You . do him wrong, '^ said the Knight ; 
 " indeed, lady, you do him wrong. The poor 
 fellow you speak of joined himself to my com- 
 pany at Lisle, and died in the very last skirmish 
 before the death of the late Emperor. With 
 some money and arms, that I expect transmit- 
 ted by the first Flemish ship, there is also a 
 packet, I fancy for your maid, for I forget the 
 address. From it she will learn that he was 
 not faithless to her, together with the worse 
 news of his death." 
 
 " Better ! a thousand times better !" cried 
 
DARNLEY. 285 
 
 Lady Katrine energetically. " If I had a lover, 
 I would a thousand times rather know that he 
 was dead, than that he was unfaithful. For 
 the first, I could but weep all my life, and 
 mourn him with the mourning of the heart ; 
 but for the last, there would be still bitterer 
 drops in the cup of my sorrow. I would mourn 
 him as dead to me — I would mourn him as 
 dead to honour ; and I should reproach myself 
 for having believed a traitor, almost as much as 
 liim for being one." 
 
 " So !" said the Knight, with a smile, " this 
 is the heart that defies Cupid's shaft — that is 
 too light and volatile to be hit by his purblind 
 aim !" 
 
 " Now you are stupid,'** said she, pettishly. 
 " Now you are just what I always fancied a 
 man in armour. Why, I should have thought 
 that, while your custrell carries your steel cap, 
 you might have comprehended better, and seen 
 that the very reason why my heart is so giddy 
 and so light, is, because it is resolved not to be 
 so wounded by the shaft it fears." 
 
 " Then it does fear ?" said Sir Osborne. 
 
 " Pshaw !" cried Lady Katrine. " Geraldine, 
 
286 DARNLEV. 
 
 come up, and deliver me from him ; he is worse 
 than the Rochester rioters.*" 
 
 In such light talk passed they their journey, 
 Sir Osborne Maurice sometimes pleased, some- 
 times vexed with his gay companion, but, 
 upon the v^rhole, amused, and in some degree 
 dazzled. For her part, whatever might be her 
 more serious feelings, the lady found the 
 Knight quite handsome and agreeable enough 
 to be worthy a little coquetry. Perhaps it 
 might be nothing but those little flirting airs 
 by which many a fair lady thinks herself fully 
 justified in exciting attention, with that sort of 
 thirst for admiration which is not content un- 
 less it be continually fresh and active. Now 
 with her glove drawn off" her fair graceful hand, 
 she would push back the thick curls from her 
 face, now adjust the long folds of her riding- 
 dress, now pat the glossy neck of her pampered 
 jennet, who, bending down its head and shaking 
 the bit, would seem proud of her caresses ; and 
 then she would smile, and ask Sir Osborne if 
 he did not think a horse the most beautiful 
 creature in nature. 
 
DARNLEY. 2S^ 
 
 At length they approached the little to^\^l of 
 Sittenbourne, famous even then for a good inn, 
 where, even had they not been plagued themselves 
 with that unrom antic thing called hunger, they 
 must have stopped to refresh their horses, 
 amongst which the one that carried the bag- 
 gage of Lady Katrine, being heavily laden, re- 
 quired at least two hours' repose. 
 
 The inn was built by the side of the road, 
 though sunk two or three feet below it, with a 
 row of eight old elms shadowing its respectable- 
 looking front, which, with its small windows 
 and red brick complexion, resembled, a good 
 deal, the face of a well-doing citizen, with his 
 minute dark eyes half swallowed up by his 
 rosy cheeks. From its position, the steps by 
 which entrance was obtained, so far from as- 
 cending according to modern usage, descended 
 into a little passage, from which a door, swing- 
 ing by means of a pulley, a string, and a 
 large stone, conducted into the inn parlour. 
 
 Here, when Lady Katrine had entered, while 
 the Knight gave orders for preparing a noon 
 meal in some degree suitable to the lady's 
 
DARNLEY. 
 
 rank, she amused herself in examining all the 
 quaint carving of the old oak panelling, and 
 having studied every rose in the borders, and 
 every head upon the corbels, she dropped into 
 a chair, crying out, " Oh, dear ! Oh, dear ! 
 what shall I do in the mean while ? Bridget, 
 girl, bring me my broidery out of the horse- 
 basket — I feel industrious — But make haste, 
 for fear the fit should leave me." 
 
 " Bless your Ladyship," replied the servant, 
 " the broidery is at the bottom of all the 
 things in the pannier. It will take an hour or 
 more to get at it — that it will."" 
 
 " Then give me what is at the top, whatever 
 it is," said the lady ; " quick ! quick ! quick ! 
 or I shall be asleep." 
 
 Bridget ran out, according to her lady's com- 
 mand, and returned in a moment with a cithren 
 or mandolin, which was a favourite instrument 
 among the ladies of the day, and placing it 
 in Lady Katrine's hand, she cried, " Oh, dear 
 lady, do sing that song about the Knight and 
 the Damsel ?" 
 
 " No, I won't," answered her mistress, " it 
 will make the man in armour yawn. Sir 
 
DARNLEY. 289 
 
 Knight," she continued, holding up the instru- 
 ment, " do you know what that is ?" 
 
 "It seems to me no very great problem," 
 replied Sir Osborne, turning from some orders 
 he was giving to Longpole ; '' it is a citharn, 
 is it not ?" 
 
 " He would fain have said, ' A thing that 
 some fools play upon, and other fools listen to,' "^ 
 cried Lady Katrine: "make no excuse. Sir 
 Osborne, I saw it in your face, I 'm sure you 
 meant it." 
 
 " Nay, indeed, fair lady," replied the 
 Knight, " it is an instrument much used at 
 the Court of Burgundy, where my days have 
 lately been spent. We were wont to hold it 
 as a shame not to play on some instrument, 
 and I know not a sweeter aid to the voice than 
 the citharn." 
 
 '* Oh, then you play and sing ! I am sure 
 you do," cried the giddy girl. " Sir Osborne 
 Maurice, good Knight and true, come into 
 court — pull off your gauntlets, and sing me 
 a song." 
 
 " I will truly," answered the Knight, " after 
 
 VOL. I. O 
 
290 DARNLEV. 
 
 I have heard your Ladyship, though I am but 
 a poor singer." 
 
 " Well, well;' cried Lady Katrine, " I "W 
 lead the way, and if you are a true Knight, 
 you will follow." 
 
 So saying, she ran her fingers lightly over 
 the strings, and sang. 
 
 LADY KATRINE'S SONG. 
 
 *' Quick, quick, ye lazy hours. 
 Plume your laggard wings. 
 Sure the path is strew'd with flowers 
 That Love, to true Love brings. 
 From morning bright, 
 To fading light. 
 Speed, oh speed, your drowsy flight ! 
 
 "If Venus' courier be a dove, 
 
 As ancient poet sings, 
 Oh, why not give to absent Love, 
 
 At least, the swallow's wings. 
 
 To speed his way. 
 
 The livelong day. 
 Till meeting all his pain repay." 
 
 Thus sang Lady Katrine; and it may well be 
 supposed that the music, the words, and the 
 execution, all met with their full share of 
 praise, although Bridget declared that she 
 liked better the song about the Knight and 
 the Damsel. 
 
DARNLEY. 291 
 
 " Now, your promise, your promise, Sir 
 Knight," cried the Lady, putting the instru- 
 ment in Sir Osborne's hands ; " keep your pro- 
 mise as a true and loyal Knight." 
 
 '" That I will do, to my best power," said 
 Sir Osborne, '' though my voice will be but 
 rough after the sweet sounds we have just 
 heard : however, to please Mistress Bridget, 
 here my song shall be of a Knight and a 
 Damsel, though it be somewhat a long one." 
 
 THE KNIGHT'S SONG. 
 
 " The night was dark, and the way was lone, 
 
 But a Knight was riding there. 
 And on his breast the red-cross shone, 
 Though his hehnet's haughty crest upon 
 
 Was a lock of a lady's hair. 
 
 " His beaver was up, and his cheek was pale. 
 
 His beard was of auburn brown, 
 And as night was his suit of darksome mail. 
 And his eye was as keen as the wintry gale, 
 
 And as cold was his wintry frown. 
 
 " Oh, sad were the tidings thy brow to shade. 
 
 Sad to hear and sad to tell. 
 That thy love was false to the vows she had made, 
 That her truth was gone, and thy trust bgtray'd 
 
 By her thou lovest so well. 
 
 o 2 
 
292 DARNLEY. 
 
 " Now fast, good Knight, on thy coal-black steed, 
 
 That knows his Lord's command, 
 For the hour is coming with fearful speed 
 When her soul the lady shall stain with the deed, 
 
 And give to another her hand. 
 
 " In the chapel of yon proud towers 'tis bright, 
 
 Tis bright at the altar there. 
 For around in the blaze of the tapers' light, 
 Stand many a glittering, courtly knight. 
 
 And many a lady fair. 
 
 '■' But why are there tears in the bride's bright eyes ? 
 
 And why does the bridegroom frown ? 
 And why to the priest are there no replies ? 
 For the bitter drops, and the struggling sighs, 
 
 The lady's voice have drown'd. 
 
 " Thaf clang ! that clang of an armed heel ! 
 
 And what stately form is here ? — 
 His warlike limbs are clothed in steel, 
 And back the carpet heroes reel, 
 
 And the ladies shrink for fear. 
 
 " And he caught the bride in his mailed arms, 
 
 And he raised his beaver high, 
 '^ Oh ! thy tears, dear girl, are full of charms. 
 But hush thy bosom's vain alarms, 
 
 For thine own true Knight is nigh !' 
 
 "And he puU'd the gauntlet from his hand, 
 While he frown'd on the crowd around. 
 And he cast it down, and he drew his brand — 
 ^ Now any who dare my right withstand, 
 J^et him raise it from the ground.' 
 
DARNLEY. 2^3 
 
 '' But the knights drew back in fear and dread, 
 
 And the bride clung to his side ; 
 And her father, lowly bending, said, 
 In the Holy Land they had deem'd him dead, 
 
 But by none was his right denied. 
 
 " ' Then now read on, Sir Priest,' he cried, 
 
 ' For this is my wedding-day ; 
 Here stands my train on either side. 
 And here is a willing and lovely bride, 
 
 And none shall say me nay. 
 
 " ' For I '11 make her the lady of goodly lands, 
 
 And of many a princely tower ; 
 And of dames a train, and of squires a band. 
 Shall wait at their lady's high command, 
 
 In the Knight of De Morton's bower.' " 
 
 " Alack ! alack !"" cried Lady Katrine, as Sir 
 Osborne concluded, "you are not a Knight, 
 but a nightingale. Well, never did I hear a 
 man in armour chirrup so before. Nay, what a 
 Court must be that Court of Burgundy ! Why 
 an aviary would be nothing to it ! But if the 
 master sings so well," she continued, as Long- 
 pole entered, bearing in Sir Osborne's casque 
 and shield, " the man must sing too. Bid him 
 sing, fair Knight, bid him sing— he will not re- 
 fuse to pleasure a lady." 
 
 " Oh, no ! I am always ready to pleasure a 
 
294 DARNLEY. 
 
 lady," answered Longpole; who, as he went 
 along, though he had found it impossible to 
 help making a little love to Mistress Geraldine, 
 had, notwithstanding, noted, with all his own 
 shrewd wit, the little coquettish ways of her 
 mistress. " But give me no instrument, my 
 Lady, but my own whistle ; for mine must not 
 be pry ck- song, but plain-song. 
 
 THE CUSTREUS SONG. 
 
 ^' Young Harry went out to look for a wife, 
 
 Hey, Harry Dally ! 
 He said he would have her in virtue's rife. 
 As soft as a pillow, yet keen as a knife. 
 
 With a hey ho, Harry ! 
 The first that he met with, was quiet and glum. 
 
 Hey, Harry Dally ! 
 But she 'd got a bad trick of sucking her thumb, 
 And when he cried '< Mary !" she never would come. 
 
 With a hey ho, Harry ! 
 
 The next that he came to was flighty and gay. 
 Hey, Harry Dally ! 
 But she would not be play'd with, although she would 
 
 play, 
 And good-humour was lost if she 'd not her own way, 
 
 With a hey ho, Harry ! 
 The next that he tried then was gentle and sweet, 
 
 Hey, Harry Dally ! 
 But he found that all people alike she would treat. 
 And loved him as well, as the next she should meet, 
 With a hey ho, Hariy ! 
 
DARN LEY. 295 
 
 The next that he thought of was saucy and bold, 
 
 Hey, Harry Dally! 
 But he found that he had not the patience sevenfold; 
 That could bear in one person a jade and a scold, 
 With a hey ho, Harry! 
 
 So, weary with searching for wedlock enow, 
 Hey, Harry Dally ! 
 He thank'd his good stars he had made no rash vow. 
 And, like the old woman, went kissing his cow. 
 With a hey ho, Harry !" 
 
 " The saucy knave !" cried Lady Katrine, 
 laughing : — " Out upon him ! — Bridget, Geral- 
 dine, if ye have the spirit of women, I am sure 
 ye will not exchange a word with the fellow the 
 rest of the journey ? What ! could he not 
 make his hero find one perfect woman? — But 
 here comes our host with dinner, for which I 
 thank Heaven ; for had it been later, my 
 indignation would have cost me my appe- 
 tite.'' 
 
 As soon as the horses were refreshed, Sir 
 Osborne, with his fair charge, once more set 
 out on the longer stage, which he proposed to 
 take ere they paused for the night. The news 
 which he had received at Sittenboume, leading 
 him to imagine that the tumults at Rochester 
 having been suffered, by some inexplicable neg- 
 
296 DARN LEY. 
 
 ligence, to remain unrepressed, had become 
 much more serious than he at first supposed, 
 he determined to take a by-way, and avoiding 
 the town, pass the river by a ferry, which 
 Longpole assured him he would find higher 
 up ; but still this was longer, and would make 
 them later on the road; for which reason he 
 hurried their pace as much as possible, till they 
 arrived at the spot where the smaller road 
 turned off, at about two miles' distance from 
 Rochester. 
 
 It was a shady lane, with, on each side, high 
 banks and hedges, wherein the tender hand of 
 April was beginning to bring forth the young 
 green shrubs and flowers; and as the Knight 
 and Lady went along, Nature offered them a 
 thousand objects of descant, which they did not 
 fail to use. Their conversation, however, was 
 interrupted, after a while, by the noise of a 
 distant drum, and a variety of shouts and hal- 
 loos came floating upon the gale, like the break- 
 ings-forth of an excited multitude. 
 
 As they advanced, the sounds seemed also to 
 approach. 
 
 " My casque and lance," said Sir Osborne, 
 
DARNLEY. 297 
 
 turning to Longpole. " Lady, you had per- 
 haps better let your jennet drop back to a line 
 with your women." 
 
 " Nay, I will dare the front," said Lady 
 Katrine : " a woman's presence will often 
 tame a crowd." 
 
 " You are with a band of soldiers," said Sir 
 Osborne, hearing the clamour approaching, 
 " and must obey command. — What, horse, 
 back ! back !" and laying his hand on the 
 lady's bridle, he reined it back to a line with 
 her women. " Longpole, advance !" cried the 
 Knight. " Left hand spear, of the third line, 
 to the front ! Archers behind, keep a wary 
 eye on the banks: — shoot not, but bend your 
 bows. I trust there is no danger, Lady, but 
 'tis well to be prepared. Now on slowly." 
 
 And thus opposing what defence they could 
 between Lady Katrine and the multitude, 
 whose cries they now heard coming nearer and 
 nearer. Sir Osborne, and the two horsemen he 
 had called to his side, moved forward, keeping 
 a wary eye on the turnings of the road, and 
 the high banks by which it was overhung. 
 
 They had not proceeded far, however, before 
 o 5 
 
298 UARNLEY. 
 
 they descried the termination of the lane, open- 
 ing out upon what appeared to be a village 
 green beyond ; the farther side of which was 
 occupied by a motley multitude, whose form 
 and demeanour they had now full opportunity 
 to observe. 
 
 In front of all the host was a sort of extem- 
 pore drummer, who with a bunch of cocks' fea- 
 thers in his cap, and a broad buff belt sup- 
 porting his instrument of discord, seemed in- 
 finitely proud of his occupation, and kept beat- 
 ing with unceasing assiduity, but with as little 
 regard to time on his part, as his instrument had 
 to tune. - Behind him, mounted on a horse of 
 inconceivable ruggedness, appeared the General, 
 with a vast cutlass in his hand, which he swayed 
 backwards and forwards in menacing attitudes ; 
 while, unheedful of the drum, he bawled forth 
 to his followers many a pious exhortation to 
 persevering rebellion. On the left of this 
 doughty hero was borne a flag of blue silk, 
 bearing, inscribed in golden letters, The United 
 Shipwrights ; and on his right was seen a red 
 banner, on which might be read the various 
 demands of the unsatisfied crowd, such as 
 
DARNLEY. 299 
 
 " Cheap bread," " High wages," " No taxa- 
 tion," &c. 
 
 The multitude itself did, indeed, offer a for- 
 midable appearance, the greater part of the 
 men who composed it being armed with bills 
 and axes, some also having possessed them- 
 selves of halberts, and some even of hackbuts 
 and hand-guns. Every here and there ap- 
 peared an iron jack, and many a prentice-boy 
 filled up the crevices with his bended bow, 
 while half a score of loud-mouthed women 
 screamed in the different quarters of the crowd, 
 and with the shrill trumpet of a scolding tongue 
 urged on the lords of the creation to deeds of 
 wrath and folly. 
 
 The multitude might consist of about five 
 thousand men ; and as they marched along, a 
 bustle, and appearance of crowding round one 
 particular spot in their line, led the Knight to 
 imagine that they were conducting some pri- 
 soner to Rochester, in which direction they 
 seemed to be going, traversing the green at 
 nearly a right angle with the line in which he 
 was himself proceeding. " Hold !" said Sir 
 Osborne, reining in his horse. " Let them pass 
 
300 DARNLEY. 
 
 by. We are not enough to deal with such 
 numbers as there are there. Keep under the 
 bank — we must not risk the lady's safety by 
 showing ourselves. Ah ! but what should that 
 movement mean ? They have seen us, by 
 Heaven ! Ride on then, we must not seem to 
 shun them. See, they wheel ! On, on, quick ! 
 Gain the mouth of the lane.'' 
 
 Thus saying. Sir Osborne laid his lance in 
 the rest, and spurred on to the spot where the 
 road opened upon the green, followed by Lady 
 Katrine and her women, not a little terrified 
 and agitated by the roaring of the multitude, 
 who, having now made a retrograde motion on 
 their former position, occupied the same ground 
 that they had done at first, and regarded in- 
 tently the motions of Sir Osborne's party, not 
 knowing what force might be behind. 
 
 As soon as the Knight had reached the 
 mouth of the road, he halted; and seeing that 
 the high bank ran along the side of the green 
 guarding his flank, he still contrived to conceal' 
 the smallness of his numbers by occupying alone 
 the space of the road, and paused a moment 
 
 I 
 
DARNLEY. 301 
 
 to watch the movements of the crowd, and 
 determine its intentions. 
 
 Now, being quite near enough to hear great 
 part of an oration which the General whom we 
 have described was bestowing on his forces, Sir 
 Osborne strained his ear to gather his designs ; 
 and soon found that his party was mistaken for 
 that of Lord Thomas Howard, who had been 
 sent to quell the mutiny of the Rochester 
 Shipwrights. 
 
 " First," said the ringleader, " hang up the 
 Priest upon that tree, then let him preach to us 
 about submission if he will — and he shall be 
 hanged, too, in his Lord's sight, for saying that 
 he, with his hundreds, would beat us with our 
 thousands ; and let his Lord deliver him if he 
 can. Then some of the men with bills and 
 axes get up on the top of the bank — Who 
 says it is not Lord Thomas ? I say it is Lord 
 Thomas, I know him by his bright armour." 
 
 " And I say you lie, Timothy Bradford !" 
 cried Longpole, at the very pitch of his voice, 
 much to the wonder and astonishment of Sir 
 Osborne and all his party. " Please your 
 
302 DARNLEY. 
 
 Worship," he continued, lowering his tone, 
 " I know that fellow ; he served with me at 
 Tournay, and was afterwards a sailor. He 's 
 a mad rogue, but as good a heart as ever 
 lived." 
 
 " Oh, then, for God's sake speak to him !" 
 cried Lady Katrine from behind, " and make 
 him let us pass ; for surely. Sir Knight, you 
 are not mad enough, with only six men, to 
 think of encountering six thousand ?" 
 
 " Not I, in truth, fair lady," answered the 
 Knight. " If they will not molest us, I shall 
 not meddle with them." 
 
 " Shall J on then, and speak with him ?" 
 cried Longpole. " See ! he heard me give him 
 the lie, and he 's coming out towards us. He ""d 
 do the same if we were a thousand." 
 
 " Meet him, meet him then," said the Knight ; 
 " tell him all we wish is to pass peaceably. The 
 right hand man advance from the rear and fill 
 up," he continued, as Longpole rode on, taking 
 care still to maintain a good face to the enemy, 
 more especially as their Generalissimo had now 
 come within half a bow-shot of where they stood. 
 
 As the yeoman now rode forward, the ring- 
 
DARNLEY. 
 
 leader of the rioters did not at all recognize his 
 old companion in his CustreFs armour, and be- 
 gan to brandish his weapon most fiercely ; but 
 in a moment afterwards, to the astonishm^'nt of 
 the multitude, he was seen to let the point of 
 the sword drop, and seizing his antagonist's 
 hand, shake it with every demonstration of sur- 
 prise and friendship. Their conversation was 
 quick and energetic ; and a moment after. Long- 
 pole rode back to Sir Osborne, while the ring- 
 leader raised his hand to his people, exclaiming, 
 " Keep your ranks ! — Friends ! these are 
 friends !" 
 
 " Our passage is safe," said Longpole, riding 
 back ; "' but he would fain speak with your 
 Worship. They have taken a priest, it seems, 
 and are going to hang him for preaching sub- 
 mission to them. So I told him, if they did, they 
 would be hanged themselves; but he would not 
 listen to me, saying he would talk to you about it." 
 
 *' Fill up my place," said the Knight, '' I 
 will go and see what can be done. We must 
 not let them injure the good man." 
 
 So saying, he raised his lance, and rode for- 
 ward to the spot where the ringleader waited 
 
304 DARNLEY. 
 
 him ; plainly discerning, as he approached nearer 
 to the body of the rioters, the poor priest, with 
 a rope round his neck, holding forth his hands 
 towards him, as if praying for assistance. 
 
 " My shield-bearer," said he, " tells me that 
 we are to pass each other without enmity, for 
 though we are well prepared to resist attack, 
 we have no commission to meddle with vou or 
 yours. Nevertheless, as I understand that ye 
 have a priest in your hands, towards whom ye 
 meditate some harm, let me warn you of the 
 consequences of injuring an old man who can- 
 not have injured you." 
 
 " But he has done worse than injured me, 
 Sir Knight," said the ringleader ; "he has 
 preached against our cause, and against re- 
 dressing our grievances." 
 
 " Most probably, not against redressing your 
 grievances," said Sir Osborne, " but against 
 the method ye took to redress them yourselves. 
 — But listen to me. It is probable that the 
 King, hearing of your wants and wishes — he 
 being known both for just and merciful, may 
 grant you such relief as only a King can grant; 
 but if ye go to stain yourselves with the blood 
 
DARNLEY. 305 
 
 of this priest — which were cowardly, as he is an 
 old man, which were base, as he is a prisoner, 
 and which were sacrilegious, as he is a man of 
 God — ye cut yourselves off from mercy for ever, 
 and range all good men among your enemies. 
 Think well of this !'' 
 
 " By the nose of the tinker of Ashford,'' said 
 the man, " your Worship is right. But how 
 the devil to get him out of their hands ? that 's 
 the job : — however, 1 11 make 'em a 'ration. But 
 what I was w^anting to ask your Worship is, do 
 you know his grace the King ?" 
 
 " Not in the least," was the laconic reply of 
 the Knight. 
 
 " Then it won t do," said the man ; '' only, 
 as merry Dick Heartley said you were thick 
 with the good Duke of Buckingham, I thought 
 you might know the King too, and would give 
 him our petition and remonstrance. However, 
 1 11 go and make them fellows a 'ration — they 're 
 wonderful soon led by a 'ration." And turning 
 his horse, he rode up to the front of the body 
 of riotors, and made them a speech, wherein 
 nonsense and sense, bombast and vulgarity, were 
 all most intimately mingled. Sir Osborne did 
 
306 DARN LEY. 
 
 not catch the whole, but the sounds which 
 reached his ears were somewhat to the following 
 effect. 
 
 " Most noble shipwrights and devout can- 
 non-founders, joined together in the great 
 cause of crying down taxation, and raising your 
 wages ! To you I speak, as well as to the 
 tinkers, tailors, and 'prentices who have united 
 themselves to you. The noble Knight that you 
 see standing there, or rather riding, because he 
 is on horseback — he in the glittering armour, 
 with a long spear in his hand — is the dearly- 
 beloved friend of the great and good Duke of 
 Buckingham, who is the friend of the Commons, 
 and an enemy to taxation." 
 
 Here loud cries of " Long live the Duke of 
 Buckingham !'' " God bless the Duke !" inter- 
 rupted the speaker ; but after a moment he pro- 
 ceeded. " He, the noble Knight, is not Lord 
 Thomas Howard, and so far from wishing to at- 
 tack you, he would wish to do you good. There- 
 fore he setteth forth and showeth — praise be to 
 God for all things, especially that we did not 
 hang the priest ! — that if we were to hang the 
 priest, it would be blasphemous, because he is 
 
DARNLEY. 30? 
 
 an old man ; and rascally, because he is a man 
 of God ; and moreover, that whereas, if we do 
 not, the King will grant us our petition — he will 
 infallibly come down, if we do, with an army 
 of fifty thousand men, and hang us all with his 
 own hands, and the Duke of Buckingham will 
 be against us. Now understand ! I am not 
 speaking for myself, for I know well enough, 
 that having been elected your captain, and 
 ridden on horseback, while ye marched on foot, 
 I am sure to be hanged any how ; but that is 
 no reason that ye should all be hanged too ; 
 and, therefore, I give my vote, that Simon the 
 cannon-founder, Tom the shipwright, and 
 Long-chinned Billy the tinker, do take the 
 priest by the rope that is round his neck, and 
 deliver him into the hands of the Knight and 
 his men, to do with as they shall think fit. 
 And that, after this achievement, we march 
 straightway back to Rochester. — Do you all 
 agree ?''' 
 
 Loud shouts proclaimed the assent of the mul- 
 titude ; and with various formalities the three 
 deputies led forth the unhappy priest, more 
 dead than alive, and delivered him into the 
 
308 DARNLEY. 
 
 hands of Longpole : after which the gene- 
 ralissimo of the rioters drew up his men with 
 ome mihtary skill upon the right of the green, 
 leaving the road free to Sir Osborne. The 
 Knight then marshalled his little party, as best 
 he might to guard against any sudden change 
 in the minds of the fickle multitude ; and having 
 mounted the poor exhausted priest behind one 
 of the horsemen, he drew out from the lane, and 
 passed unmolested across the green into the op- 
 posite road, returning nothing but silence to 
 the cheers with which the rioters thought fit 
 to honour them. 
 
 Their farther journey to Gravesend passed 
 without any interruption, and indeed without 
 any occurrence worthy of notice. Lady Katrine 
 and Sir Osborne, Geraldine and Longpole, mu- 
 tually congratulated each other on the favour- 
 able termination of an adventure, which had 
 commenced under such threatening auspices ; 
 and every one of the party poured forth upon 
 his neighbour the usual quantity of wonder and 
 amazement, which always follows any event of 
 the kind. The poor priest, who had so nearly 
 
DARNLEY. * 309 
 
 fallen a victim to the excited passions of the 
 crowd, was the last that sufficiently recovered 
 from the strong impressions of the moment to 
 babble thereupon. 
 
 When, however, his loquacious faculties were 
 once brought into play, he contrived to com- 
 pensate for his temporary taciturnity, shouting 
 forth his thanks to Sir Osborne Maurice from 
 the rear to the front, declaring that the preser- 
 vation of his life was entirely owing to his 
 valour and conduct, that it was wonderful the 
 influence which his sole word possessed with 
 the multitude, and that he should never cease 
 to be grateful, till the end of his worldly 
 existence. 
 
 Sir Osborne assured him that he was very 
 welcome ; and remarked, with a smile, to Lady 
 Katrine, who was laughing at the priest's su- 
 perfluity of gratitude, that in all probability 
 it was this sort of exuberance of zeal that had 
 brought him into the perilous circumstances in 
 which they had at first found him. 
 
 " But can zeal ever be exuberant ?'"' demand- 
 ed Lady Katrine, suddenly changing her tone ; 
 
310 DARN LEY. 
 
 —and then fixing the full light of her beau- 
 tiful dark eyes upon the Knight, she added — 
 " I mean in a friend." 
 
 " It can," said Sir Osborne, " when not 
 guided by prudence. But I do not think a 
 fool can be a friend." 
 
 " Come, Sir Knight, come," said the lady, 
 " let us hear your idea of a friend." 
 
 " A friend," replied the Knight, smiling at 
 her earnestness, " must be both a wise man 
 and a good man. He must love his friend 
 with sufficient zeal to see his faults and en- 
 deavour to counteract them, and with suffi- 
 cient prudence to perceive his true interests 
 and to strive for them. But he must put 
 aside vanity ; for there is many a man who 
 pretends a great friendship for another, 
 merely for the vain purpose of advising and 
 guiding him, when, in truth, he is not ca- 
 pable of advising and guiding himself. The 
 man who aspires to such a name, must be 
 to his friend what every man would be to 
 himself, if he could see his own faults un- 
 dazzled by self-love, and his own interests 
 unblinded by passion. He must be zealous 
 
DARNLEY. 311 
 
 and kind, steady and persevering, without 
 being curious or interfering, troublesome or 
 obstinate.""* 
 
 " Would I had such a friend !" said Lady 
 Katrine, with a sigh, and for the rest of the 
 way she was grave and pensive. 
 
312 DARNLEY. 
 
 CHAPTER XIIL 
 
 Let us 
 Act freely, carelessly, and capriciously, as if our veins 
 Run with quicksilver. 
 
 Ben Jonson. 
 
 Renowned Metropolis, 
 With glistening spires and pinnacles adorn'd. 
 
 Milton. 
 
 It is strange, in the life of man, always fluc- 
 tuating as he is between hope and fear, grati- 
 fication and disappointment, with nothing fixed 
 in his state of existence, and uncertainty sur- 
 rounding him on every side, that suspense 
 should be to him the most painful of all situa- 
 tions. One would suppose that habit would 
 have rendered it easy for him to bear ; and yet, 
 beyond all question, every condition of doubt, 
 from uncertainty respecting our fate, to mere 
 indecision of judgment, are all, more or less, 
 painful in their degree. Who is it that has 
 
DARN LEY. 313 
 
 not often felt irritated, vexed, and unhappy, 
 when hesitating between two different courses 
 of action, even when the subject of deliberation 
 involved but a trifle. 
 
 Lady Katrine Bulmer, as has been already 
 said, was grave and pensive when she reached 
 Gravesend ; and then, without honouring the 
 Knight with her company even for a few mi- 
 nutes, as he deemed that in simple courtesy 
 she might have done, she retired to her cham- 
 ber, and, shutting herself up with her two wo- 
 men, the only communication which took place 
 between her and Sir Osborne was respecting 
 the hour of their departure the next morning." 
 
 The Knight felt hurt and vexed; for though 
 he needed no ghost to tell him, that the lovely 
 girl he was conducting to the Court was as 
 capricious as she was beautiful, yet her gay 
 whims and graceful little coquetry had both 
 served to pique and amuse him, and he could 
 almost have been angry at this new caprice, 
 which deprived him of her society for the 
 evening. 
 
 The next morning, however, the wind of 
 Lady Katrine's humour seemed again to have 
 
 VOL. I. P 
 
314 DARN LEY. 
 
 changed ; and at the hour appointed for her de- 
 parture, she tripped down to her horse all live- 
 liness and gaiety. Sir Osborne proffered to as- 
 sist her in mounting, but in a moment she 
 sprang into the saddle without aid, and turned 
 round laughing, to see the slow and difficult 
 manoeuvres by which her women were fixed in 
 their seats. The whole preparations, however, 
 being completed, the cavalcade set out in the 
 same order in which it had departed from the 
 abbey the day before, ard with the same num- 
 ber of persons ; the poor priest whom they had 
 delivered from the hands of the rioters being left 
 behind, 'foo ill to proceed with them to London. 
 " Well, Sir Knight," said the gay girl as 
 they rode forward, " I must really think of 
 some guerdon to reward all your daring in my 
 behalf. I hope you watched through the live- 
 long night, armed at all points, lest some enemy 
 should attack our castle." 
 
 " 'Faith, not I," answered Sir Osborne ; " you 
 seemed so perfectly satisfied with the security 
 of our lodging. Lady, that I e'en followed your 
 good example, and went to bed." 
 
 ** Now he 's affronted !'' cried Lady Katrine ; 
 
DARNLEY. 315 
 
 " Was there ever such a creature ? But tell 
 me, man in armour, was it fitting for me to 
 come and sit with you and your horsemen, in 
 the tap-room of an inn, eating, drinking, and 
 singing, like a beggar or a ballad-singer ?'" 
 
 The Knight bit his lip, and made no reply. 
 
 " Why don't you answer, Sir Osborne ?" 
 continued the lady, laughing. 
 
 " Merely because I have nothing to say,'' 
 replied the Knight, gravely ; " except that at 
 Sittenbourne, where you did me the honour of 
 eating with me, though not with my horsemen, 
 I did not perceive that Lady Katrine Buhner 
 was, in any respect, either like a beggar or 
 ballad-singer." 
 
 " Oh ! very well, Sir Knight ; very well !" 
 she said. " If you choose to be offended, I 
 cannot help it." 
 
 " You mistake me. Lady," said Sir Osborne, 
 " I am not offended." 
 
 " Well then, Sir, I am," replied Lady Ka- 
 trine, making him a cold stiff inclination of the 
 head. "So we had better say no more upon 
 the subject." 
 
 At this moment Longpole, who with the rest 
 
316 DARNLEY. 
 
 of the attendants followed at about fifty paces 
 behind, rode forward, and put a small folded 
 paper into Sir Osborne's hands. " A letter, 
 Sir, which you dropped," said he ; " I picked it 
 up this moment." 
 
 The Knight looked at the address, and the 
 small silken braid which united the two seals, 
 and finding that it was directed to Lord Darby, 
 at York House, Westminster, was about to re- 
 turn it to Longpole, saying it was none of his, 
 when his eye fell upon Lady Katrine, whose 
 head, indeed, was turned away, but whose neck 
 and ear were burning with so deep a red, that 
 Sir Osborne doubted not she had some deep 
 and blushing interest in the paper he held in his 
 hand. " Thank you, Longpole ! thank you," he 
 said, " I would not have lost it for an hundred 
 marks ;" and he fastened it securely in the fold- 
 ings of his scarf. 
 
 Though he could willingly have punished his 
 fair companion for her little capricious petu- 
 lance, the Knight could not bear to keep her in 
 the state of agitation under which, by the pain- 
 ful redness of her cheek, and the quivering of 
 her hand on the bridle, he. very evidently saw 
 
DARNLEY. 317 
 
 she was suiFering. " I think your Ladyship was 
 remarking," said he, calmly, " that it was the 
 height of dishonour and baseness to take advan- 
 tage of any thing that happens to fall in our 
 power, or any secret with which we become ac- 
 quainted accidentally. I not only agree with 
 you so far, but I think even that a jest upon 
 such a subject is hardly honourable. We 
 should strive, if possible, to be as if we did 
 not know it." 
 
 Lady Katrine turned her full sunny face to- 
 wards him, glowing like a fair evening cloud 
 when the last rays of daylight rest upon it : 
 " You are a good — an excellent creature," she 
 said, " and worthy to be a Knight. — Sir Os- 
 borne Maurice," she continued, after a moment's 
 pause, " your good opinion is too estimable to 
 be lightly lost, and to preserve it I must speak 
 to you in a manner that women dare seldom 
 speak — And yet, though, on my word, I would 
 trust you as I would a brother, I know not 
 how — I cannot, indeed I cannot. — And yet I 
 must, and will, for fear of misconstruction. — 
 You saw that letter. — You can guess that he to 
 whom it is addressed is not indifferent to the 
 p 3 
 
318 DARNLEY. 
 
 writer. — They are affianced to each other by all 
 vows — ^but those vows are secret ones ; for the 
 all-powerful Wolsey will not have it so— and 
 we must needs seem, at least, to obey. Darby 
 has been some time absent from the Court, and 
 I was sent to the Abbey. — What would you 
 have more ? — I promised to give instant infor- 
 mation of my return ; and last night I spent in 
 writing that letter, though now I know not in 
 truth how to send it, for my groom is but a pen- 
 sioned spy upon me."' 
 
 " Will you trust it to me ?" said the Knight. 
 The lady paused. " Do you doubt me.^^" he 
 asked. 
 
 " Not in the least,*" she said, " not in the 
 least. My only doubt is, whether I shall send 
 it at all." 
 
 "Is there a hesitation ?" demanded the 
 Knight in some surprise. 
 
 " Alas ! there is," answered she. " You must 
 know all — I see it. Since I have been at the 
 Abbey, they have tried to persuade me that 
 Darby yields himself to the wishes of the Car- 
 dinal, and is about to wed another. — I believe 
 it false — I am sure it is false ! and yet, and 
 
DARNLEY. 319 
 
 yet" — and she burst into tears.—" Oh ! Sir Os- 
 borne," she continued, drying her eyes, " I 
 much need such a friend as you described 
 yesterday." 
 
 " Let me be that friend then, so far as I 
 may be," said Sir Osborne. " Allow me to carry 
 the letter to London, whither I go after I have 
 left you at the Court at Greenwich. I will as- 
 certain how Lord Darby is situated— if I find 
 him faithful, (which doubt not that he is, till 
 you hear more,) I will give him the letter — other- 
 wise I will return it truly to you." 
 
 " But you must be quick," said Lady Ka- 
 trine, " in case he should hear that I have re- 
 turned and have not written. How will you 
 ascertain .P" 
 
 " Many ways," answered the Knight, " but 
 principally by a person whom I hope to find 
 in London, and who sees more deeply into the 
 hidden truth, than mortal eyes can usually 
 do." 
 
 " Can you mean Sir Cesar ? " demanded Lady 
 Katrine. 
 
 " I do," answered the Knight : " do you 
 know that very extraordinary being .^" 
 
320 DARNLEY. 
 
 " I know him as every one knows him," an- 
 swered Lady Katrine, " that is, without know- 
 ing him. But if he be in London, and will give 
 you the information, all doubt will be at an 
 end ; for what he says is sure, — though indeed 
 I often used to tease the queer little old man, 
 by pretending not to believe his prophecies, till 
 our Royal Mistress, whom God protect, has 
 rated me for plaguing him. He was much a 
 favourite of hers— and I, somewhat a favourite 
 of his ; for those odd magical hop o^ my thumbs, 
 I believe, love those best who cross them a 
 little. He gave me this large sapphire ring, 
 when he went away last year, bidding me send 
 it back to him, if I were in trouble— quite 
 fairy-tale like. — So now. Sir Osborne, you shall 
 carry it to him, and he will counsel you rightly. 
 Put it in your cap, where he may see it. — 
 There, now, it looks quite like some fair lady's 
 favour ! so don't go and tilt at every one who 
 denies that Katrine Bulmer is the loveliest 
 creature under the. sun." - 
 
 " Nay, I must leave that to my Lord Dar- 
 by," answered Sir Osborne. 
 
 " Now that was meant maliciously," cried 
 
DARNLEY. 321 
 
 Lady Katrine. " But I don't care — Wait a 
 little, and if there be a weak point in all your 
 heart. Sir Knight, 1 11 plague you for your sly 
 look." 
 
 Lady Katrine Bulmer's spirits were of that 
 elastic quality, not easily repressed ; and be- 
 fore ten minutes were over, all her gaiety re- 
 turned in full force, nor did it cease its flow till 
 their arrival at Greenwich. 
 
 For his part. Sir Osborne strove to keep 
 pace with her liveliness, and, perhaps, even 
 forced his wit a little in the race, that he might 
 not be behindhand. Heaven knows what was 
 passing in his mind ! Whether it really was an 
 accession of gaiety at approaching the Court, 
 or whether it was that he wished to show his 
 fair companion that the discovery he had made 
 of her engagements to Lord Darby did not at 
 all mortify him, notwithstanding the little co- 
 quetry which she might have exercised upon 
 himself. 
 
 They now, however, approached the place of 
 their destination, under the favourable auspice 
 of a fair afternoon. The most pardonable sort 
 of superstition is, perhaps that, which derives 
 
322 DARNLEY. 
 
 its auguries from the face of Nature, leading us 
 to fancy that the bright golden sunshine, the 
 clear blue heaven, the soft summer breeze, and 
 the cheerful song of Heaven's choristers, indi- 
 cate approaching happiness to ourselves, or that 
 the cloud, the storm, and the tempest, come 
 prophetic of evil and desolation. At least, 
 both hope and fear, the two great movers in 
 all man's feelings, lend themselves strangely to 
 this sort of divination, combining with the 
 beauty of the prospect, or the brightness of the 
 sky, to exalt our expectations of the future, 
 or lending darker terrors to the frown of nature, 
 and teaching us to dread or to despair. 
 
 When Sir Osborne and his party arrived at 
 the brow of Shooter's-hill, the evening was as 
 fair and lovely as if it had been summer — one 
 of those sweet sun-sets that sometimes bursts 
 in between two wintry days in the end of 
 March, or the beginning of April, as a sort of 
 herald to announce the golden season that comes 
 on. The whole country round, as far as they 
 could see, whether looking towards Eltham 
 and Chiselhurst, or northward towards the 
 river, was one wide sea of waving boughs just 
 
DARNLEY. 323 
 
 tinged with the first green of the spring, while 
 the obhque rays of the dedining sun, falling 
 upon the huge boles of the old oaks and 
 beeches, caught upon the western side of each, 
 and invested its giant limbs as with a golden 
 armour. Every here and there too, the beams, 
 forcing their way through the various open- 
 ings in the forest, cast across the road bright 
 glimpses of that rich yellow light, peculiar to 
 wood scenery ; and, alternated with the long 
 shadows of the trees, marked the far perspec- 
 tive of the highway descending to the wide 
 heath below. The eye rested not on the heath, 
 though it too was glowing with the full efful- 
 gence of the sky ; but passing on, caught a small 
 part of the Palace of Greenwich, rising above 
 the wild oaks which filled the park ; and then 
 still farther turning towards the west, paused 
 upon the vast metropolis with its red and dizzy 
 atmosphere, high above which rose the heavy 
 tower and wooden spire, of Old PauPs Church, 
 while to the left, beyond the influence of the 
 smoke, was seen standing almost alone in solemn 
 majesty the beautiful pile of the West Minster. 
 Sir Osborne Maurice impulsively reined-in 
 
324 DARNLEY. 
 
 his horse, and seemed as if he could scarcely 
 breathe when the whole magnificent scene 
 rushed at once upon his view. " So this is 
 London !" cried he, " the vast, the wealthy, 
 and the great ; the throne of our island mo- 
 narchs, from whence they sway a wide and 
 powerful land. On ! on !'' and striking his 
 horse with his spurs, he darted down the 
 road as if he were afraid that the great city 
 would, before he reached it, fade away like 
 the splendid phantasms seen by the Sicilian 
 shepherds, showing for a moment a host of 
 castles and towers and palaces, and then fleeting 
 by, and leaving nought but empty air ! 
 
 END OF THE FIRST VOLUME. 
 
 LONDON, 
 PRINTED BY S. AND R. BENTLEY, 
 
 Dorset St( let. Fleet Street. 
 
■^