UNIVERSITY OF ILLINOIS LIBRARY K Class Book %^ Wt Volume Ja 09i-20M ENGLISH DEPARTMENT $/ <^>-*«£= LONDON: PRINTED FOR A. K. NEWMAN AND CO. LE A D EN H A LL-STREET. 1826. <^3 INTRODUCTORY CHAPTER. The following tale being closely inter- - woven with the history of the period in y which the events occurred, it will perhaps be desirable to give a brief sketch of the circumstances in which England had been ** for some time placed; by which means, occasional allusions in the body of the * work will be rendered clear, without ^. the general reader having to refer to the page of history, for an elucidation of facts which may have escaped his recollec- tion. With virtues which would have adorn- ed a private station, and have rendered him in these times an amiable and bene- ficent monarch, Henry the Third wanted those more lofty and stern qualities, which vol. i. a were 1- ■*4 t) 11 INTRODUCTORY CHAPTER. were required in the sovereign of a coun- try constituted as England then was. A numerous and warlike baronage, sove- reigns within their own domains, and ever impatient of the royal authority, required a monarch whom their haughty spirits could learn to fear. But Henry had no decision of mind ; he was ever under the influence of those who possessed his confi- dence, which was not given to per- sonal merit, but to those who were con- nected with him by the ties of relation- ship. He seemed to think that one of the chief advantages of being king of Eng- land, consisted in its affording him the power of providing for his own relations, and those of his wife*; and by giving to them * The widow of king John and mother of Henry the Third married Hugh de la Marche, earl of Angoulesme. The offspring by this marriage, William and Amaury de Valence, were richly gifted by their half-brother Henry : their sister was married to the earl of Warenne and Surrey, and the daughter of their elder brother was married to the young earl of Gloucester, the most powerful nobleman in England. INTRODUCTORY CHAPTER. Ill them places of the highest trust, together with English earldoms — not mere titles — but with all their feudal power, he aroused the jealousy of his nobles, who, ever strug- gling to depress the royal authority, that they might exalt their own on its ruins, made the king's favour to his foreign rela- tions the watchword to excite popular in- dignation; and at various periods of his long reign, under pretence of guarding against breaches in the great Charter, they so far humbled the power of the crown, as to render the king the slave of the domi- nant faction. On this rock the tranquillity of Henry's long reign was wrecked. The king's brother, Richard earl of Cornwall and king of the Romans, gene- rally sided with the barons; and the queen, jealous of the half-brothers of her husband, and anxious wholly to supersede a 2 them England. Boniface de Savoy, uncle to queen Eleanor, was archbishop of Canterbury ; and his brother Peter was created earl of Richmond — he built the princely palace of the Savoy. IV INTRODUCTORY CHAPTER. them in his councils by her uncles, had for some time also joined the same party : but when Richard and Eleanor became sen- sible that the efforts of the barons threat- ened the total subversion of the throne, they deserted them, and gave all their support to the king; by this defection, they excited the deadly hatred of what was called the popular party. The popular party of that day may be said to have been solely confined to the city of London, all other parts of the kingdom being under the domination of the great barons. But London was in itself an estate of such power, that on whichever side it threw its gigantic weight, that side must preponderate. The city, defended by its walls, towers, and castles, and mustering, as Fitz-Stephen says, when speaking of a preceding reign, ninety thousand soldiers of its own people, toge- ther with sixty ships of war (which, with the ships of its allies, the cinque ports, comprised the whole maritime strength of the INTRODUCTORY CHAPTER. V the kingdom), possessed such wealth and capability of feeding a procrastinated war, as made it a power, whose hostility to Henry, as well as to his father John, was the chief means of enabling the barons to humble the English crown. The barons, who were now arrayed against the throne, acknowledged a head whose ambition, it has been supposed, aimed at nothing short of the regal dia- dem ; this was the king's brother-in-law, Simon Montfort earl of Leicester. He was the second son of Simon de Montfort, the renowned general of the crusades against the ill-fated Albigevin, by Amicia, one of the coheiresses of Robert Fitz- Parnell earl of Leicester; and by the alienation in his favour, by his elder bro- ther Amaury (who retained the French honours and estates of his family), of all the lands and rights of their mother in England, he became possessed of a moiety of earl Robert's estates, together with the third penny of the county of Leicester, a 3 and VI INTRODUCTORY CHAPTER. and the stewardship of England. He early evinced an ambitious spirit, and al- though only an illegitimate descendant, in the fourth degree, from Robert king of France, aspired to the acquisition of sove- reign power. Having failed to accomplish this by marriage with either the countess of Boulogne, or the countess of Flanders, he turned his attention to a still higher, though more distant prospect— that of the crown of England, by a marriage with the princess Eleanor, sister of Henry, and widow of William de JVlariscal earl of Pembroke. The king, being won to approve of this union, gave his sister to Simon Montfort at the altar of his private chapel. This event at first excited the greatest indignation on the part of the clergy and nobility : on that of the former, because the princess was on the point of taking the veil, having actually made the oath of perpetual chastity, and received from Ed- mund archbishop of Canterbury, the ring which was to have wedded her to the church. INTRODUCTORY CHAPTER* vi 1 church. This prelate did all in his power to induce the pope to annul the marriage ; but Montfort having gone to Rome, the influence of the son of the great crusader proved more potent, and his holiness granted all the necessary releases and dis- pensations. The nobility resented it on another ground : they considered it as a sign of defection on Montfort's part, from their common league against the king, and as a bribe from Henry to gain Simon over to the royal party. But it was soon discovered that Montfort, in raising him- self, aimed at a higher state than that of a supporter of the tottering throne of his brother-in-law, and he became the acknow- ledged head of the factious barons. His great possessions, inherited from his mother, or given to him by Henry, on account of his wife, together with his office of high steward of England, ranked him with the most powerful barons ; be- sides which, he had an immense influence with the nobility of France, which, from the Viii INTRODUCTORY CHAPTER. the connexion and collision of interests between the nobility of both countries, served greatly to augment his personal consequence. As his rank and power were great, so were his personal qualities well fitted for the ambitious game he played — Insinu- ating, artful, and persuasive; bold, reso- lute, and enterprising ; — superior to most men in the art of war, he possessed that coolness of judgment which could wait for the proper moment of action, and the spirit that could seize it. While he was ascending in his career, his powerful par- tisans only beheld the great qualities which fitted him to be their leader; but when he had almost gained the summit, and the crown of England seemed within his grasp, the darker side of his character was discovered, and they perceived that he whom they were raising to a throne, was rapacious, violent, imperious, and overbearing. At a parliament held at Oxford, and which, INTRODUCTORY CHAPTER. IX which, from the outrageous violence of its members, and its monstrous enact- ments, has continued to be designated the mad parliament of Oxford, certain pro- visions, as they were styled, were enacted, the most odious of which, was the ap- pointment of twenty-four regents for the government of the kingdom, in whom was lodged, the power both of the crown and the law. Simon Montfort was the main spring of this tremendous state engine, and from that moment might be considered as master of the kingdom. During five years, from the time of this celebrated Oxford parliament, the king had vainly endeavoured to break his fetters. His half-brothers, and his wife's uncle, Peter de Savoy, had fled to France, and the unfortunate monarch was left almost without a friend, and in a state of such pecuniary want, as to be obliged to sell his jewels for the maintenance of his slender court ; and even to be thankful for X INTRODUCTORY CHAPTER. for a dinner for himself and train, at the board of some wealthy abbot. At length his son, afterwards the illus- trious Edward the First, then in his twenty-fourth year, and who was display- ing his gallantry at tournaments in France, received intelligence that Montfort had' entered into a treaty with Llewellin ap Griffyth prince of North Wales, and had induced him to ravage the marches with an army of thirty thousand men, and that the Welsh had exclusively devastated his own estates, and those of Roger Mortimer, and other friends of the king, leaving un- touched those of the confederated barons. The prince immediately crossed into Eng- land, accompanied by a hundred of the bravest knights of France, and soon aven- ged the predatory war of the Welsh, of whom great numbers were slain before they could retire to the fastnesses of Snow- don. After this, Edward hoped to have been instrumental to his father's emanci- pation ; but Montfort and the barons were too INTRODUCTORY CHAPTER. XI too powerful, and the popular cry in Lon- don against foreigners being now directed at the French knights, who, with the prince, were lodging at Clerkenwell, while the king and queen sojourned in the Tower, Edward retired with his knights to Windsor Castle, where the queen pro- posed joining him. It is at this period, the middle of July 1263, that this tale commences. ERRATA. VOL. I. Page Line 2 .. 7 for king's read king 4 . . 11 for and has ranked. . . .read and ranked - .. 22 for conquest read conqueror 9 . . 23 for earl's read earl - . . 24 for mission read missive 15 .. 5 for fulness read fellness — .. 15 /or starlings read sterlings 23 . . 5 /or their read there 30 . . 18 for on the latter read of the latter 53 . . 8 /or and which he . .. .read which he 43 . . 12 for since those read since if those — . .21-22/or instead of king's. read instead of a king's 44 . . 12 for lord ! read lud ! 46 . . 9 for courting them . . . .read courting of them — . . 12 for to a citizen read from a citizen 56 . . 1 for were read was — . . 5 /or were read was 57 . . 14 for your aldermen . . . .read you aldermen 73 . . 17 for he assailed read he was assailed 79 . . 8 for Kok-ben, Abraham read Kok-ben-Abraham 81 . . 13 for houses read house 83 . . 6 for than the king . . , .read than of the king 87 . . 14 for are faithful read were faithful 106 .. 24 for drank read drunk 110 . . 20 for begun -.read began 118 .. 23 for guard read guide 152 . . 15 for side the read side of the 183 . . 22 for thus read then 188 . . 11 for yet time read yet had time 191 .. 19 for you or I .read you or me 199 . . 9 for as the read or the 221 .. 10 for those read these 232 , . 14 for for what I read why I 239 • • 12 for Emeric's .read Emeric — . . 23 for unassayed read unessayed 243 . . 6 for all knees shall bow . read all knees shall bend — . . 7 for hearts worship . . . .read hearts shall worship — . . 8 for their lordly homage read their lowly homage 262 . . 11 for his queries read her queries 265 . . 9 for oppose the read oppose this 295 . . 8 for from read by ERRATA. VOL. II. Page Line 4 .. 9 for muscles read mascles 11 . . 16 for hundred read thousand 19 . . 18 for and royal read and his royal 20 . . 6 for vanity of read vanity of it 33 .. 22 for covering read colouring 41 . . 5 for gaining popularity, .read gaining of popularity — . . 7 for increasing the . . . .read increasing of the 42 . . 16 for his read its 45 . 10-11 for and at a flight of steps read and stopped at a flight Of 98 . . 2 for swun read swung [steps 101 . . 8 for menage . . read manege 109 . . 22 for sister's ? read sister? 135 .. 10 for drank read drunk 148 . . 21 for drank read drunk 153 .. 13 for him read he 159 . . 6 for was read were 202 . . 10 for Cambria read Cumbria 219 . . 16 for stanch hound read sleuch hound 234 . . 13 for on to the read on the — . . 22 for guarding the read guarding of the 265 . . 3 for reduced to by read reduced by 268 . . 5 for steady read ready VOL. III. 3 .. 13 for under him read under the standard of him 21 . . 17 for king's read king 23 ► • 13 for king's read king 40 . . 14 for I read me 50 . . 18 for stones read stores 98 . . 18 for buckles read bucklers 121 . . 15 for and which passing .read and passing 142 .. 8 for himself read themselves — . . 12 for but what had .... .read but had 174 . . 3 for battle, man, and . . , read battle, and 213 . . 16 for vanard read vaward 214 . . 6 for and then, as ..... .read and, as 240 .. 7 for and I read and me VOL. IV. 12 . . 19 for pleases read please 34 . . 1 The couplet in old French must be read thus — " Toutes etez, serez ou futes, De fait ou de volonte ." 119 . . 6 for sang read sung — . . 23 for considerable read considerably 134 . . 14 for sprang read sprung 317 • . 15 for pleases read please 324 . . 22 for you and I read you and me EUSTACE FITZ-RICHARD. CHAPTER I. IN a chamber of the White Tower were assembled a group of ladies, awaiting the moment of departure with queen Elea- nor, on her passage up the Thames, to join her son, prince Edward, at Windsor. Whatever might be the grave thoughts and serious apprehensions of the queen and unfortunate king, they penetrated not this chamber, where gaiety of spirits, and the thoughtlessness of youth, made occurrences which were produced by civil war, be looked forward to only as giving an agreeable variety to the monotonous etiquette of a court. vol. L b Of 2 EUSTACE FITZ-RICHARD. Of these ladies the chief were Agnes de Clare, sister to the young earl of Glou- cester, who had recently joined his im- mense power to that of the barons, who were at war with the king ; Jane Basset, daughter of lord Philip Basset, a brave adherent of the king's; and Adeline de Melmonby. " Rouse thee, Adeline," said Agnes de Clare ; " thou art as dull as a nun the tenth day of her penance ; and yet you are the only one of us who stands any chance of seeing the flower of the English chivalry enter the city to-morrow." '? Would it rejoice you, my friend," re- plied Adeline, " to behold those enter the city whose approach scares our mistress away, and keeps the good king no better than a prisoner in this fortress ?" " Pshaw, child ! what have we to do with these matters ?" rejoined Agnes. " Since faithful squires and gallant knights are the objects we maidens most delight in beholding, we must not quarrel with the cause EUSTACE FITZ-RICHARD. 3 cause of a war, as without wars we should have no soldiers — nothing but huntsmen and falconers, horns and whis- tles." " Are not jousts and tournaments as gallant sights," said Adeline, " as fields of battle? Those we can have in time of peace." " True, but our timid king hates them as much as an open war," replied Agnes ; " he every where forbids them ; which I think is the very best reason the barons can assign for their rebellion, as king Henry calls it. Were I Gilbert, I would insist that it should be made one of the conditions of the next charter, that every baron should have the power of holding a tournament within his own domains whenever he chose, and that every gentle- man should have leave to joust with whom he pleased. This would be liberty — a liberty worth fighting for." " And very unobjectionable," said Ade- line, " so that the gallant knights only b 2 assembled 4 EUSTACE FITZ-RICHARD. assembled for the purposes of a tourna- ment, and not to array a rebel army ; and that those who wished to joust, should only joust with those who were equally jso disposed." 3 A straw for your conditions !" cried Agnes; " an English baron should be untrammelled with any; and I am glad to see my hot-headed brother has so much sense as to have taken the right side of the question for once in his life, and has ranked himself on that of liberty." " With Simon Montfort for his master," said Adeline, with a quiet smile. $ The earl of Leicester cannot be the master of the earl of Gloucester," said Ag- nes, proudly. " But he is, my enthusiast for liberty," retorted Adeline ; " and a more despotic one over him, and all the barons of his party, than any king of England, from the Conquest to our present good Henry the Third." " I broadly deny your assertion," said Agnes. EUSTACE FITZ-RICHARD. 5 Agnes. " The son of Richard earl of Gloucester can know no superior save the king. It is true, a mere youth like Gil- bert cannot be supposed capable of being the leader of the barons of England ; it is therefore that to the more sage earl of Leicester they give the preeminence in council and in war, and so they would to the merest soldier of fortune, who had his headpiece." " I meant not to pique you, my friend," said Adeline. " Nor have you," rejoined Agnes ; " and now, like a good child, recollect your pro- mise, of sending us ample intelligence of all the gallant knights who to-morrow enter the city — particularly tell us, for Jane Basset's sake, how Harry Montfort bears himself." " Dear Agnes " said Jane Basset, looking entreatingly at Agnes de Clare. " Pshaw, child !" said Agnes, interpret- ing her look, " don't sigh for the recreant But now I think of Adeline's speaking of b 3 his 6 EUSTACE FITZ-RICHARD. his father being the master of the barons, this Henry Montfort may become our king. How delightful, Jane, should he prove faithful to thee ! I humbly con- gratulate you, most gracious queen Jane !" " How can you be so teasing!" said Jane Basset, reproachfully. " Oh, she is only thinking of becoming your rival," said Adeline. " Let a crown once seem likely to sit on Harry Mont- fort's head, and Agnes de Clare will wish to share it." " I ever think of Henry Montfort ! he, an odious wool- merchant !" exclaimed Agnes, holding up her hands in affected disgust. " Why, child, thy purposed re- sidence in the house of a London trader hath already contaminated thee ! I marry a trafficker in wool! Shades of the De Clares, rise not from your storied tombs !" " Is it not a greater thing," said Ade- line, H to have a profit on all the fleeces in EUSTACE FITZ-RICHARD. 7 in the kingdom, than only on such as are shorn on one's own domains ?" " There is something in that argument," replied Agnes ; " and a monopoly is a very good thing in its way ; for instance, if I could monopolize each particular beauty for which each of you are respec- tively famed, I should be the most peer* less queen of the whole world ; my eyes should be no longer grey — my nose lose that little prominence in the middle, which spoils its regularity — my mouth should have thy own beautiful curve, my Adeline, and my teeth should be just as small and perfect; but I must not run over all your particular charms, my friends, lest I shew each of you to have beauties I want, and thus prove myself the only plain person in company." " Who art decidedly as handsome as any," said Adeline. " Hold your tongue, flatterer!" said Agnes, at the same moment kissing her cheek. — " But, all badinage aside, I am ex- B 4 piring 8 EUSTACE FITZ-KICHARD. piring at the thoughts of parting with thee." At this instant they were summoned to attend the queen, and having put on their mantles, quitted the Tower. The faithful soldiers who adhered to Henry in all his misfortunes, and who were at present the garrison of the Tower, were assembled in honour of the queen, who was conducted to the water's edge by her royal consort. In her deportment Eleanor betrayed none of the timidity of a fugitive; and just before she put her foot on the board by which she was to pass to the barge, she looked round on the band of gallant knights who more immediately encircled her, and said — " In your hands, brave gentlemen, I leave my husband and sovereign, with the fullest confidence that he will not be surrendered to a rebellious faction, which would alike tyrannize over both king and people." There was a state chamber in the barge, to which the queen, with two or three of her EUSTACE FITZ-RICHARD. 9 her more confidential ladies, retired ; and in front of this, and under an awning, which protected them from the rays of a midsummer's meridian sun, were seated the young ladies introduced above ; and between them and the numerous rowers, were stationed three knights, together with several esquires and pages. Besides these there was a Franciscan friar, whose object in being there shall be more particularly noticed. Adeline de Melmonby had been from her infancy a ward of the crown, and during the last three years had lived under the immediate protection of the queen. In the course of this period, the earl of Leicester had ob- tained her wardship from the king; but content with having the management of her estates, he had left that of her person under the queen's undisturbed control. But on the day preceding the queen's de- parture from the Tower, this Franciscan friar, who was a chaplain of the earl's, had arrived with a mission from his lord, em- b 5 powering 10 EUSTACE FIT2MIICHARD. powering him to demand the person of the lady Adeline, for the purpose of pla- cing her under the roof of a wealthy citi- zen of London, named William Fitz- Richard. Although an actual war was at that moment carried on between the earl, as the head of the barons' party, on the one hand, and the king on the other, acts of deference to each other, which were in themselves of no political import- ance, were conducted with courtesy ; and in this spirit no obstacle was thrown in the way of Moritfort's pleasure ; and Ade- line understood from the Franciscan that she would be landed a short distance above the bridge, where the house of her new host was situated. The friar was seated near to Adeline, and immediately beyond the awning. He spoke not, but remained with his arms folded across his chest, and his cowl throwing a deep sha- dow over his visage. Thus placed, the barge glided into the middle of the river, and gradually ap- proached EUSTACE FITZ-RICHAIID. 11 proached the bridge. London Bridge at this time presented its original features, as when first built of stone a hundred years before, by that then-esteemed archi- tect, Peter, the curate of St. Mary's Cole- church ; neither being encumbered as at a subsequent period by a double row of houses, nor, as at present, protected by a noble balustrade ; the only defence be- ing a low coping, insufficient to protect cattle from being occasionally forced over it into the river, and from thence being seized, as a perquisite of the constable of the Tower, which all such spoil then was, as well as the swans that happened to swim down through the bridge, or that came to land below it, in ascending from the marshes of Kent and Essex. Near the end of either extremity of the bridge were gates, defended by towers, and the one at the southern end, by the addi- tional protection of a drawbridge. Be- sides this drawbridge, there was another at one of the arches, which was occasion- b 6 ally A * TT_ 12 EUSTACE FITZ-RICHARD. ally raised at high water, to admit the passage of vessels with masts. When those who were seated in the barge had leisure to look around them, the scene which presented itself was high- ly imposing. They were leaving behind them the White Tower, and its numerous fortifications, while before them was stretched the long curved line of the bridge, over which towered majestically, on the right hand, the huge body and vast towers of the Gothic cathedral of St. Paul. Crowds of vessels reposed on the bosom of the waters, which, under a cloud- less sky, were unruffled by the slightest breeze. But however magnificent were these features of the scene, there was one temporary characteristic of it, which might render it either peculiarly joyous or appalling ; this was the countless mul- titudes with which the wharfs, the lanes, the whole length of the bridge, its towers, gates, and even the posts and chains of the drawbridges were crowded. Nor was this living EUSTACE F1TZ-RICHARD. 13 living multitude of human beings so stri- king, as that deathlike stillness which per- vaded the entire mass. Sir Hugh de Wilton seemed to look with a troubled «ye on this gazing multitude, and glanced inquiringly at the Franciscan friar, who muttered a prayer, kissed a crucifix, threw a rapid look around, and then drooped his head over his folded arms. They were now so near the bridge, that they could distinguish the appearance of the people who thronged it. " Positively all London is assembled to take leave of us !" said Agnes de Clare : " nay, not all, for did ever mortal behold such a mean-looking rabble ! There is not a head to be seen that ever had aught but fustian to save it from a winter's storm." " What a deathlike stillness pervades them !" observed Jane Basset. " Their gaping astonishment is better than their filthy plaudits," said Agnes; " and 14 EUSTACE FITZ-RICHARD. " and yet the louts might give one huzza to the ladies of England." " Do you apprehend danger, good fa- ther??' said Adeline, who saw the Fran- ciscan shudder. " The blessed saints forbid the realiza- tion of my fears P he replied, and then cried — " Hark ! — what was that murmur?" " Only the people, now they can more fully see us," said Agnes, " have found their tongues. We shall have charming paeans anon. Out on their filthy throats !" And now indeed was that late silence of the multitude changed. The murmur began as the first rustling of the wind, when the stifling calm is broken by the coming thunder ; it evinces life, but may be the precursor of destruction; and as the black and massive clouds heave and swell before they hurl forth the forked lightnings, so did that hitherto motion- less multitude become agitated and furi* ous. Those solitary cries, which were at first almost lost in the surging murmurs of EtTSTACE FIT2-RICHAHD. 15 of the congregated mass, were quickly followed by the most horrible shrieks and hoo tings, amidst which, as from ten thou- sand voices joined in one, burst forth their hatred of the queen, and the fulness of their purpose, in shouts of — " Drown her! drown her! The witch! drown the witch !" Every cheek in the barge was blanched ; every eye raised to the bridge, which now towered immediately before them. " Pull for your lives!" shouted the master of the barge from his high post at the stern. The prow of the vessel had already en- tered between the far projecting starlings of the piers of the arch they were to sail through. At this instant an enormous stone, propelled by leavers, came whelm- ing down, and grazing the bow of the vessel, sunk in the abyss, immersing the barge in a deluge of foaming water. A simultaneous cry and shriek burst from the queen's retinue, and the infuriate people 16 EUSTACE FITZ-RICHARD. people were for a moment stilled, as watch- ing whether the object of their rage had indeed perished. But their precipitation had defeated their purpose, for had they been one moment later, the barge would have been staved and sunk ; and all that was so fair and unexpectant of danger, been ingulfed in the remorseless waves. As it happened, the barge was turned and thrown across the mouth of the starlings which encase the piles on which the piers of the bridge are built. Here the barge was beyond the reach of any large mass of stone ; but those in it were still exposed to the assault of lesser stones and dirt, with which the mob began to assail them, the moment they perceived their chief attack had failed. In this critical emergence sir Hugh de Wilton commanded the master of the barge to retreat, being apprehensive that should they again attempt to pass the arch, another mass of stone, more accu- rately timed, would sink the vessel. In an instant the master commanded some of EUSTACE FITZ-RICHARD. 17 of his men to push with their oars the barge from the starlings, and others to back theirs; and the moment they had thus moved the vessel a sufficient distance to be out of the reach of the missiles, they brought its head round, and in a few se- conds were beyond all danger. The utmost confusion had existed amongst the terrified females, and when the danger was no longer imminent, Ade- line found herself on her knees, close to the entrance of the queen's cabin. Al- most unconsciously she drew aside the curtain, and beheld the queen calmly seat- ed, but her immediate attendants on their knees clinging to her person. — " Come hither, child," said the queen ; " but you look as great a coward as the rest. Will you neither move yourselves, nor let me pass ?" she added somewhat impatiently, endeavouring to rise ; then again address- ing Adeline — " Tell sir Hugh de Wilton to come hither." In a moment the knight was in her presence. — " The moment we reach 18 EUSTACE FITZ-RICHARD. reach the Tower," said the queen to him, " have my whirlicot in attendance, toge- ther with a score of mounted archers." " May it please your grace," said sir Hugh, " to consider the expediency of keeping the Tower walls between you and the infuriated populace." * It doth not please me to follow thy advice, good Wilton," replied Eleanor; " I will not bring this London hive on the king. It is sufficient that he should bend to Montfort, without being at the mercy of a rabble." " Whither is it your grace's pleasure to be conducted from the Tower ?" inquired sir Hugh. " No doubt those who have so well barred the passage of the bridge," observed the queen, " will not neglect to close the city gates upon us ; but there is a place within their saucy walls we may find stronger than the Tower. Conduct us to St. Paul's — we will seek sanctuary in the palace of Henry de Sandwich ; rebel as he is, EUSTACE FITZ-RICHARD. 19 is, he dare not refuse it. To you, De Wilton, we leave the conducting of us in safety ; your skill, doubtless, will be suffi- cient to baffle this rabble rout, when not forewarned of our design ; but be instant, or they will chain their streets, and not leave our whirlicot a barrow-woman's pas- sage." Sir Hugh bowed obedience to her plea- sure, and then said — " There is a chaplain of the earl of Leicester's on board, who seems to have been aware of what was in- tended against your royal person." " Tush, tush ! De Wilton," the queen quickly replied ; " thinkest thou that if he had, he would have perilled his precious person within our danger ? go, go, sir Hugh, we are at the Tower — within ten minutes we set out." The king had beheld from a window of the Tower the atrocious scene at the bridge, and had hastened down, and or- dered the archers, and few men at arms he had, to man some boats, and fly to the assistance 20 EUSTACE FITZ-RICHARD. assistance of the queen. But the whole affair had been of that brief character, which defies all distant aid, and before they were ready to embark, the queen's barge had reached the Tower stairs. Happy in Eleanor's safety, Henry ten- derly embraced her, and then, with vehe- ment indignation, vowed vengeance on her intended assassins. f Curse them not," said the queen, mildly ; " they are beneath your rage. They are but a senseless monster, possessed by devils. It is the latter — and you know them, king ! who are worthy of a monarch's wrath : but yonder De Wilton marshals his little band. Once more, farewell ! I shall seek sanctuary of my lord bishop at St. Paul's, and there offer up my prayers for the preservation of your grace." " Farewell, my noble Eleanor ! may the ever blessed St. Edward have you in his holy keeping !" The queen was assisted up the high steps of the whirlicot, in which lady De Wilton EUSTACE FITZ-RICHARD. 21 Wilton and two other ladies of her cham- ber were also seated, while the remainder of her female attendants were accommo- dated in a couple of litters, each borne by a pair of Spanish mules. A score of archers were divided into two bodies, and rode in the front and rear of the whirlicot and litters. Sir Hugh de Wilton, com- pletely armed, rode on the right hand of the queen's carriage, which, as well as the litters, was attended by two knights, and triple the number of esquires. Sir Hugh de Wilton had given the captain of the archers his instructions of the route which was to be taken ; and when they had crossed the eastern drawbridge, the cavalcade proceeded over Tower-hill, and leaving Aldgate on their right hand, approached the priory of the Holy Trinity. The grounds of this venerable edifice ex- tended close up to the city walls, obstruct- ing in this place that open road which elsewhere ran along the whole inner side of the city walls. The queen's train were without 22 EUSTACE FITZ-RICHARD. without difficulty admitted within the gates of the priory, and the demand of sir Hugh for permission to pass out at the opposite gates promptly complied with. When they had left the priory and church of the Holy Trinity behind them, sir Hugh threw back a glance of regret, and said to himself — " It would have been better, when safe within the walls of the holy- rood, that the queen had made it her sanc- tuary ; the good prior Eustace is no fac- tious priest, like Henry de Sandwich : but had I moved the queen to it, she would have said — « Tush, tush ! De Wilton, art thou afraid ? go on, my knight, go on !" In selecting the circuitous route by the city walls, instead of the more direct one to St. Paul's, sir Hugh de Wilton ex- pected to avoid falling in with the mob, who, having been foiled at the bridge, might, should they find the queen at- tempting to pass through the city in her way to Windsor, effectually prevent her ; whereas, should they learn that she had quitted EUSTACE FITZ-RICHARD. 23 quitted the Tower by its remotest gate, they would also learn that she had entered the priory of the Holy Cross, for the pur- pose, as he hoped they would conclude, of their taking refuge, and not of merely making it a passage to her journey to St. Paul's. In a litter immediately following the queen, were seated Adeline, Agnes de Clare, and Jane Basset. Completely re- covered from the fright she had expe- rienced at the bridge, Agnes de Clare looked upon the events of the day as a pleasant adventure, and became eager for fresh circumstances to occur that might increase its interest. In this spirit she had drawn aside the curtains of the litter, and looked with a curious eye on the monks of the priory, as they passed through its courts ; and when they had left its sacred precincts, with a stronger hope of adventure on the walls of the city, on which were seen, at intervals, some sol- diers keeping guard; and as they now approached 24 EUSTACE FITZ-RICHARD. approached one of the gates flanked with towers, on which several men were lean- ing on their bows, and others reclining listlessly against the parapet, she exclaimed — " I would give the brightest gem on my fingers, that one of those lounging fellows would stop us ! Oh that a city captain, mounted on his dray horse, would plant himself in our way ; then should we see sir Hugh fix that huge lance of his in rest, and galloping at full speed, hurl man and horse to the ground. Were there ever such louts as those, with sheaves full of ellwands on their backs by way of arrows ! why don't the recreants bend their bows and point their shafts at us ? mercy on us! would but the fray were begun — gate, towers, and all would topple down at the career of the valiant De Wilton !" " How can you speak so absurdly, at a time we are flying for our lives?" said Jane Basset. u The very moment for an adventure," replied EUSTACE FITZ-RICHARD. 25 replied Agnes. " A queen and half a score of ladies, some of them young and beautiful, escorted by two or three knights and esquires, and a small band of archers, attacked on water by countless thousands, and on land by a body of valiant soldiers — oh, it would be glorious ! The next gate I am determined shall not be so quietly passed : keep back the curtains, I pray you- — and if there is a spark of manhood in a city soldier, I will make him stop us." " In mercy, Agnes," said Adeline, "do not do any thing likely to cause impedi- ment ; recollect, it is not risk to ourselves alone — the queen's life is in danger." " And there is no one makes a better figure when it is than Eleanor," rejoined Agnes ; " we lost the sight in the barge, by her being unluckily in the cabin ; but I would forfeit my head we should see her grace standing up in her whirlicot, as it is said a British princess once did in her chariot, while her brave army mowed down the Roman legions like cowslips. vol. i. c Oh, 26 EUSTACE FITZ-llICHAUD. Oh, here we come to another gate — now if we have any luck we shall certainly be stopped !" But they also passed this gate without interruption. The portcullis was at the moment raised for the passage of a dray loaded with casks, and which seemed to engross the sole attention of the guard. — " Heaven protect me from citizen sol- diers !" cried Agnes, throwing herself back, " were there ever such stupid wretches ? there did they stand gazing with open mouths at a dray, while some of the hand- somest women in England were passing." " The day is sultry," observed Adeline, smilingly ; f and I doubt whether more chivalrous soldiers than they would not cast a longing look towards a cask of wine, even though bright eyes were beam- ing on them." " Fie on such recreants !" exclaimed Agnes ; " they would have nothing knight- ly in them. Do they not swear to suffer hunger and thirst, and all manner of pri- vations, EUSTACE FITZ-RICHARD. 27 vations, for the sake of widows, orphans, and distressed maidens ? The man who thinks of eating or drinking when woman weeps or smiles, is no true knight ; a king may dub him such, but he shall be none of Agnes de Clare." The wishes of Gloucester's sister were not gratified, the guards at the different gates close to which the queen and her train passed offering no obstruction, nor pro- bably would they to her egress through them ; but the risk of falling into the hands of any of the barons' parties, who were drawing close to the city, deterred her from making the attempt to reach Windsor by land ; while the route sir Hugh had taken to St. Paul's made her successfully elude the licentious mob. At length they came in view of the cathedral, rising majestically over the dwellings of the citizens, which, with some few ex- ceptions, were built of wood, while the august temple of God was of Norman stone, excepting the spire on its principal c 2 tower, 28 EUSTACE FITZ-RICHARD. tower, which was of timber, covered with lead, and surmounted by a cross of gold. This church, which had been begun to be erected in the reign of the conqueror by William the Norman, bishop of London, was conceived on so stupendous a plan, that the people had thought it would never be completed. A considerable space round it was enclosed, and in this place the general meetings of the citizens were held ; and from a stone desk in the open air, sermons w r ere preached, frequently of a popular and political character. To a house or palace of the bishop's, situated within the sacred precincts of the cathedral, the queen's progress was di- rected; and she at length, with all her train, was admitted within the sanctuary of the palace gates. The scene here was strikingly characteristic of the times and of the bishop, who being a stanch par- tisan of the barons, had his court-yards and palace more thronged by military vassals and retainers, than by ecclesiastics, or EUSTACE FITZ-RICHARD. 29 or those wandering pilgrims, palmers, and poor scholars, who sought a temporary hospitality at the board of the wealthy prelate. Various groups of soldiers stood gazing on the queen's equipage with looks of surprise, while superior domestics flew in every direction, some to receive the com- mands of their sovereign, and others to announce her unexpected arrival. At length several chaplains of the bishop ap- peared, and with much humility of de- meanour announced that their lord was hastening to receive her grace. In a short space of time Henry de Sandwich himself appeared, and approach- ing the queen's carriage, paid his reverences with a lowliness of manner which seemed to be at variance with the proud exultation that flashed from his eyes. When the queen had been assisted to alight, she said, fixing her dark eyes full on the prelate — " I am an unbidden guest, my lord bishop, but doubt not of being a welcome one." c 3 " All 30 EUSTACE FITZ-RICHARD. " All here, next to the service of God, is at your grace's service," he replied. " The reservation need not have been mentioned," said Eleanor, somewhat haugh- tily ; then pressing a crucifix which was suspended by a chain of gold from her neck to her bosom, added — " at the same time, my lord bishop, I applaud your ever keeping in mind your duty to God ; none so well understand, as those who are of truly holy life, their duty to their fellow- men and to their sovereign." " I trust that as one of the humblest of the servants of God," replied the bishop, " I am also a watchful shepherd over my Christian flock, and an honest counsellor of my king." " On the latter point hereafter," said the queen, with a dissatisfied inclination of her head ; " in the mean while, as my so- journ here is of necessity, I must so far wave ceremony, as to intimate that having sought refuge here from the violence of your audacious flock, I shall hold you, my lord EUSTACE FITZ-RICHARD. 31 lord bishop of London, responsible that my peace and safety, and that of my train, be neither disturbed nor endangered." So long as it is your grace's pleasure to remain beneath my humble roof, you may repose assured of safety ; it is a sanctuary which none within these city walls will dare profane." (i Nor none from without them," said the queen, fixing her dark eyes full on the pale visage of the prelate ; " but let that pass — lead on, my good lord bishop." As they passed slowly up a long narrow and low hall, Agnes de Clare pointed to tables ranged up its entire length, which were being covered for the evening repast, but which had been stayed by the entrance of the queen, and said — " Truly these de- vout bishops have large families; but where are the ladies ?" " Fie, Agnes, you are horribly censo- rious," said Jane Basset ; " these tables are for the poor and destitute — friars, pilgrims, and scholars." c 4 " You 32 EUSTACE FITZ-RICHARD. " You might have added soldiers, my dear Jane, and they not the least hungry of your list of poor and destitute." " I spoke only of those," replied Jane, " who usually look to a bishop's palace as their place of sojourn, while traversing a Christian country." " Forgive me, my dear Basset, it had escaped me that your reverend grand-uncle had been one time the bishop here ; but he kept not mercenary soldiers, did he? such as yonder men, who half devour us with their eyes, and glower like famished wolves on the bishop's beefj wishing the queen and all her train in heaven, or any where else than in their eating-hall. I hate a prelate's soldier worse than those city fools, who let us pass without a single question. But who have we here ? by my lord bishop's mitre, it is the crusty friar, who left us when we had passed the drawbridge of the Tower ! I marked him well, as with his hood over his sallow vi- sage he slowly crossed the hill, having good EUSTACE FITZ-RICHARD. 33 good reason doubtless to stand in little fear of the mob." The chaplain had now approached them, and acquainted Adeline that he should be ready to attend her to the house of master Fitz-Richard, whenever sir Hugh de Wil- ton and his archers should return to the Tower, and which he understood would be after vespers, and of whose escort, on his fair charge's account, he would be glad to avail himself in the present disturbed state of the city. " And who pray is this master Fitz- Richard ?" said Agnes de Clare contemp- tuously, without giving Adeline time to reply. " William Fitz-Richard is an alderman, and one of the chief merchants of the city," replied the chaplain. " Take my Adeline to a filthy trader's house !" and at the same moment she loosened her arm from Adeline's as in disgust, and then the next clasped it more fervently, while she earnestly said — " Say c 5 at 34 EUSTACE FITZ-RICHARD. at once you will not go ; you are now in sanctuary, and let us see, to use the bi- shop's own words, who will dare profane it by forcing you hence!" Having inadvertently raised her voice in uttering the last words, they reached the ears of the queen, who looking round, demanded what was meant ? Agnes co- loured and hesitated to approach her grace ; but as the queen had stopped, and turned full round, she had no alternative. There- fore drawing Adeline along with her, she said — " Pardon me, your grace, but my ears are still so much injured by the horri- ble shouts of the mob which assailed your grace's life, that I was not sensible of ex- ceeding that modulation of voice suitable to your grace's presence, and the sacred- ness of the place." " You never lose presence of mind suffi- ciently to fail making a plausible excuse," replied the queen ; "but although I pardon the manner, you will be so good as ex- plain the matter of your words." " Merely, EUSTACE FITZ-RICHARD. 35 " Merely, madam, a simple protest against the daughter and sole heiress of the baron de being taken, at the plea- sure of my lord of Leicester, to the house of a vile citizen — one master Fitz-Richard, I think the monk yonder called him." " Master Fitz-Richard, lady Agnes de Clare," the bishop rather sternly said, " is one of the chief citizens of London, and merits otherwise than to be spoken of thus disrespectfully," " I crave your lordship's pardon, if I have inadvertently derogated from the dignity of a friend of yours," said Agnes, with affected humility. " I spoke from the conduct of the citizens this day to the queen's grace, when I did not observe one of these respectable individuals stand for- ward in her defence ; and thence perhaps a little rashly concluded they were all alike infamous and unentitled to respect." The queen stayed the bishop, who would have replied, and mildly, yet somewhat reprovingly, said — " Were not many of c 6 the 36 EUSTACE FITZ-RICHARD. the chief nobles of the realm, lady Agnes de Clare, forgetful of their duty to the king, we should not have been exposed to the insults and danger this day endured. In answer to your severe remark on the loyalty of the citizens, I acquaint you, that all who are truly citizens — the po- pulace are not such— and who are eminent for their personal respectability, their wealth, their talents, and their commer- cial enterprise, are stanch in their loyalty to my lord the king, although their right- ful influence and authority be for a mo- ment overpowered by a licentious popu- lace, misguided by incendiaries within the city walls, and the rebellious barons without them. As for master William Fitz-Richard, under whose protecting roof the earl of Leicester has thought proper awhile to place his ward, I know him to be a person of the highest worth and most devoted loyalty, and therefore rejoice that my faithful Adeline, in leaving me, should fall into such esteemed hands." Agnes EUSTACE FITZ-RICHARD. 37 Agnes bowed in silence, and the queen resuming her progress, reached the apart- ment the bishop destined for her use : it consisted of a suit of rooms looking into the garden ; and as her eye glanced on the smooth greensward and quiet shade of a triple row of elms which bounded it, while all the tumult of the city seemed here hushed, a sigh escaped her ; but checking it, she smilingly said — " I am guilty of envy, my lord bishop — you may repose here in calm security — I can find no real sanctuary on earth." " Tranquillity and your grace's exalted station are incompatible," observed the bishop ; " it is not in your own enjoyment you must look for happiness, but reflected from that which you give to others — a joy of a far more exalted character, and which will experience still greater fruition here- after." 9 The doing good is certainly the wor- thiest source of happiness to the powerful," the queen said ; f and you would doubt- less 38 EUSTACE FITZ-RICHARD. less wish to feel it, my lord bishop, by ex- erting to the utmost your sacred authority and great influence in healing the discord which at present convulses the realm, and nowhere assumes a more odious and ter- rific aspect than in the chief place of your diocese." The queen had fixed her eyes full on the bishop's face ; but his gaze continued on the ground while he replied — " My sacred office commands, and my inclina- tion prompts me to minister all that in me lies to the establishment of peace." " And maintenance of the just rights of your anointed king," subjoined the queen. " Mine is a ministry of peace, not of worldly policy," the bishop slowly an- swered. " Have you acted on that holy doctrine, my lord ?" said the queen. " Have you not added your influence and power, as a bishop, to the rebellious acts of the barons, and instead of preaching peace, allowed the EUSTACE FITZ-RICHARD. 39 the inferior clergy of your diocese to stir up the populace of this city to deeds dis- graceful to the character of England, and dishonourable to the religion of Christ ?" " My palace, lady," and he drew him- self up and met her scrutiny with an un- shrinking eye, " and all that it contains, are at your service ; but I know not one in England to whom I will render an ac- count of what I think it best to do in these most difficult times." " Then if not to your king, what say you to his holiness the sovereign pontiff? He, haughty prelate, commands thee not to surrender thy sovereign's rights into the hands of his rebellious barons." " And to his holiness I shall account for what I do — to no one else ;" and as he spoke he folded his arms, held back his head, then slightly bowed, and retired from the presence of the queen. CHAP- 40 EUSTACE FITZ-RICHARD. CHAPTER II. In the mean time the younger part of the queen's train found their way into the garden, and, as they sauntered along its shady walks, made the alarms of their two departures from the Tower the subject of their mirth and ridicule. Neither did the mixture of ecclesiastical solemnity and martial preparation, of worldly magnifi- cence and vagrant mendicity, which cha- racterized many groups they had seen within the bishop's palace, escape the ob- servation of Agnes de Clare, who appear- ed to delight in her attacks, from the grave looks they excited in Jane Basset, nor ceased to make them, unless to assail the citizens, amongst whom Adeline was on the point of being placed. To change a subject which grated harshly on Ade- line's EUSTACE FITZ-RICHARD. 41 line's ears, she endeavoured to direct her companions' attention to some curious and rare plants, which appeared to be nurtur- ed with peculiar care in a sheltered por- tion of the garden. These were the pro- ducts of other climes, and had been the simple offerings of some holy palmers on their return from the east. But here again Agnes distressed Jane Basset, for, not content with admiring a small frag- rant shrub, which was peculiarly guarded in a glazed earthen vessel, of antique form, she was about to break a branch, for the purpose of placing it in her bosom, when Jane Basset caught her hand, and cried — fl Agnes, what are you doing ?" " Mercy on me !" exclaimed Agnes, looking up, " was this deliciously perfum- ed stranger placed here by your good uncle ? and are you afraid his ghost will seize my sacrilegious hand ?" " No, Agnes ; but I do not think we ought to break the bishop's plants, when availing 42 EUSTACE FITZ-RICHARD. availing ourselves of the protection of his palace." " Well, how some people can always think of what is proper amazes me," said Agnes, withdrawing from the shrub, but still eyeing it. " I have been told what I ought to do, in every possible circum- stance, morning, noon, and night, ever since I was born ; indeed, I don't know but that it was the subject of very serious debate every day for some months before that auspicious event; and yet, for the life of me, I always do the wrong thing first, and then have to tear my wits to pieces for an apology. Now I doubt not, had the bishop challenged that charming sprig in my bosom, I should have been able to have made my peace with him." " Oh, you are still at liberty to place it there," said Jane Basset, quietly. " And you very well know, my dear prudent censor, that I am not very apt to do a wrong thing, when I have had time to recollect that it would be so. But tell me, EUSTACE FITZ-RICHARD. 43 me, Jane, for you know all about the ways of these bishops, when will be the hour of afternoon repast ?" " An hour before vespers, I believe, and therefore the hour is nearly at hand," said Jane Basset. " Well then, let us resume our debate how Adeline is to acquit herself in the house of this master Fitz-Richard," said Agnes, and immediately commenced a new attack on Adeline, not wholly with- out success ; since those whom we know and esteem, suffer in our respect from the ridicule of the idle and witty, those who are yet strangers to us, and are so painted, can scarcely appear in any other colours to our imagination. They were soon summoned to the evening repast ; and Agnes, as her eyes glanced over the table, smiled, and said — " Positively this is better than the Tower. I will become a church vassal instead of king's. Ah, and there are the old ladies laughing over their wine in the next room." "Let 44 EUSTACE FITZ-RICHARD. " Let me entreat you, lady Agnes de Clare, not to make observations," said the lady de Vaux, whose duty it was to pre- side over the table and time of the young ladies, as pointing to a door a little apart from the one whence the sounds of mirth had come. " That is the queen's cham- ber, and you know they are not approved of." " True, true," said Agnes, softly ; " we are to be silent, that we may think. Oh Lord ! how dangerous ! But when we are married, we may talk and be merry. There is Adeline cannot eat for thinking of the delicious supper she is to have at master Fitz-Richard's. — Will you eat of the stewed ox-head, Adeline, or amuse yourself with picking the hinch-bone ?" " Are those the usual delicacies at Tun- bridge Castle ?" said Adeline, smiling. " How tart ! Already prepared to fight for your new friends, Adeline ! But truly I must plead guilty to the barbarous fare at Tunbridge Castle, having been once shocked EUSTACE FITZ-RICHARD. 45 shocked by the knowledge that there were no less than the quarters of a score of oxen making the tables groan, from the head of the great hall to their termination in the bas court, and as many more on the lawn. But the Virgin defend me from having again to sit down to dinner with the whole county for guests !" " One would suppose there were stran- gers present," said Adeline, " that you palliate the vulgarity of the viands, by ac- quainting us of the princely hospitality of the earl of Gloucester." " Now I perceive you are really vexed," said Agnes, laughing ; " but I shall not let you off because you are severe ; there- fore do tell us, like a good girl, what you will do when one of the young master Fitz-Richards stands up, and holding a huge horn goblet of mawkish mead in both hands, scrapes back his right leg, upsetting his three-legged stool, and bob- bing his head, drinks to the health of the lady Adeline ?" " Just 46 EUSTACE FITZ-RICHARD. * Just the same," replied Adeline, " as though the earl of Gloucester did me that honour." u Ah, so you are a real Montfort," cried Agnes ; " a gracious smile and bow for every vulgar citizen ! You will become vastly popular !" " I hope there is a difference between civility to persons, and the basely courting them," said Adeline. 66 Doubtless there is," said Agnes ; " but do you seriously think you ought to re- turn a courtesy to a citizen in the same manner as one from a nobleman ?" " I should best evince my own single- ness of thought," answered Adeline, " by replying to the courtesy, and not to the man." " A very nice distinction truly; and if the coolness of it is not detected, may be of vast service in this city campaign," said Agnes. " But what will you do when young master Fitz-Richard — -for I trust there will be a domestic swain— em- boldened EUSTACE FITZ-RICHARD. 47 boldened by your condescension, seizes the moment of mamma's absence, while making the plum-pudding, pops down on one knee — perhaps on both, for greater effect, and " " There I should leave him," said Ade- line, filling up the sentence, " as without offence I might the first peer in Eng- land." " I think, lady Agnes," interposed lady de Vaux, " you may trust lady Adeline, as I suspect her quiet and easy dignity of manner will be a better shield from im- pertinence, than occasional sparks of haughtiness from a person whose vivacity is continually setting all decorum at de- fiance." " Oh, my unfortunate vivacity !" cried Agnes, putting up her hands, as though to conceal her confusion. " What it and my loyalty have this day exposed me to ! Peril of my life by land and water — the stern censure of a bishop in holy sanctu- ary itself — a lecture from the queen, which, 48 EUSTACE FITZ-RICHARD. which, had my brother heard, he would have tumbled St. Paul's church about our ears — a terrible fright from Jane Basset, for putting my hands, like a second Eve, on the forbidden fruit — an essay on good breeding from Adeline — and, oh cruel ! my deathblow from my dear lady de Vaux !" " If you are to talk so much after death," said lady de Vaux, " your chatter will be stunning the world when we are all qui- etly reposing in our graves." " Oh, how charming !" exclaimed Ag- nes. " It will be " " Hush ! the queen !" and her grace entered, attended by lady de Wilton and her beloved Provencal friend ; and passing through the room, was followed by her more juvenile train to the chapel of the palace, where the evening service was ce- lebrated. Immediately after their return from the performance of divine worship, the chap- lain of the earl of Leicester requested to conduct EUSTACE FITZ-RICHARD. 49 conduct Adeline to the house of master Fitz-Bichard. Having received an affec- tionate farewell from the queen, and ten- derly embraced her companions, Adeline, with depressed spirits, ascended the litter, which, with sir Hugh de Wilton's escort, passed through the front gates of the palace into St. Paul's church-yard, and crossing the western front of the cathedral, rapidly descended by the narrow avenue of Paul's-chain and Saint Bennet's-hill. Adeline's heart beat with trepidation, as her eyes rested on the impending houses, whose projecting upper stories seemed to threaten to fall and overwhelm her; but far more did she fear interruption from the populace, although it might be con- cluded, that even if aware of the queens having taken sanctuary in the bishop's palace, and from that reason induced to watch its precincts, they would ere this have been dispersed, from the conviction that her grace would not expose herself to their outrages, by again leaving it. This vol. i. n appeared 50 EUSTACE FITZ-RICHARD. appeared to be so far the case, that Ade- line observed no extraordinary crowd, and they passed along almost unnoticed, and by extremely narrow and winding streets, at length reached the point of their desti- nation. The residence of this wealthy citizen was nearly contiguous to the city wall, next the river. Unlike the generality of the houses of the city, even of the chief citizens, which were of wood, this was built of similar materials to those of the walls and towers of the city, that is, of stone, from Caen, in Normandy, and Flemish tiles, and possessed the combined appearance of a massive tower, flanked with turrets, which part of it had origi- nally been, and of a more ordinary dwell- ing ; the lower story of some of the prin- cipal buildings being partly of stone and of cemented fragments, while the upper stories were of wood, roofed with tiles, and the inferior offices built entirely of wood. These extensive, but hetero- geneous EUSTACE FITZ-RICHARD. 51 geneous buildings, were situated within a double court to the north, and on the southern, or river side, there was a raised garden, bounded by a terrace, formed of the city walls, and commanded an exten- sive view of the viver, and particularly of the bridge, which was within two bow- shots of it. From this garden an arched passage, and a flight of steps, communi- cated with the river. The insulated situa- tion of the house, the stone buttresses, and heavy parapet of the principal build- ing, had altogether so imposing an effect, when contrasted with the narrow streets and crowded wooden houses she had pass- ed, that Adeline felt satisfied lord Leices- ter had had in view the superiority of his habitation, as well as his wealth and rank in the city, of master Fitz-Richard, when he had chosen his house for the residence of his ward. On her being admitted within the outer court, sir Hugh de Wilton took his leave, being impatient to regain the Tower with d 2 his 52 EUSTACE FITZ-RICHARD. his archers ; and Adeline, with the priest, having entered the inner court, they were preceded by a serving-man up the steep flight of steps which led to the entrance door, and were in a few moments ushered into a spacious, but somewhat gloomy apartment, lit by two high and narrow windows, divided into small compart- ments by massive masonry. Almost im- mediately afterwards two females entered, and whom it was easy to discover were mother and daughter. The elder of them did not appear more than five or six-and- thirty, handsome, with dark eyes, an ani- mated expression of • countenance, and good complexion ; she was of the middle height, and comely in her person. The younger one was not more than sixteen, and with a figure light and elegant, had a face of much loveliness and innocence. Dame Fitz- Richard welcomed Adeline to her house with kindness, and expressed her gratification in the honour the earl of Leicester had thus conferred on her fami- EUSTACE FITZ-RICHAHD. 53 ly, and hoped to shew her sense of it by her endeavours to contribute to the ease and comfort of her guest. To these civilities Adeline made suit- able replies ; and when, after the friar had given her his blessing and retired, the dame proposed that she should look at the apartment destined for her use, and in which her trunks had already been placed, having been removed from the Tower in the course of the day, she rose, and was shewn the way by the youthful Margaret. A narrow winding stair of dark oak terminated in a small lobby, from which two doors opened; the one on the left hand Margaret said was that of her own room, while the one on the right, which she opened, was Adeline's. Adeline was much pleased with the ap- pearance of the room, and its contiguous dressing-closet, which, although small, was commodious and cheerful, and on looking from the window of each, found that they d 3 commanded 54 EUSTACE FITZ-RICHARD. commanded two distinct views of the river, the apartment being at the summit of the south-western turret. " This house," said Adeline, " is more like the castle in which I was born in the north, than those habitations of wood which I have hitherto seen in the city." " It was formerly a castle," said Marga- ret ; " some say built in the time of the Sax- ons, but my father says since the conquest, which he knows by the Norman stones of which he says it is built. In king Ste- phen's time, when most things went to ruin, this castle did not escape; and after it had fallen into great decay, my grand- father purchased it of the city, and also built some of those additions you may have noticed in the north front; but it was my father raised the garden, and con- verted the ruins of this part of the city walls into that handsome terrace." Margaret begged to assist Adeline in arranging her wardrobe, which she had commenced doing, and by a variety of little EUSTACE FITZ-RICHAIiD. 55 little attentions, and the easy respectful- ness of her manner, gained greatly on the good opinion of Adeline, who expressed her satisfaction that they should be such near neighbours. Margaret was delighted with this com- pliment, and assured Adeline that she would not desire a greater happiness than being permitted to be her companion and attendant. The supper-bell soon called on them to descend from their turret, and master Fitz-Bichard was presented to Adeline by the dame. He was a stout man, ra- ther above the middle height, of a fair complexion, with light grey eyes, and a pleasing and mild expression of counte- nance, and might be fifty years of age. He expressed himself in similar terms of cordial welcome to those used by the dame. There were two more gentlemen present, the one an alderman of the city, the other a naval captain. The inter- d 4 change 56 EUSTACE FITZ-RICHARB. change of courtesies were no sooner ended, than they sat down to table. During the repast, and intermingled with the little attentions of the table, the critical aspect of affairs in the city were alluded to ; and Adeline learnt that mas- ter Fitz-Richard and his brother alder- men, with almost all the chief citizens, were as obnoxious to the populace, and nearly as much exposed to their violence, as the royal family, from being faithful to the cause of the king. " Not that you need care for them," observed captain Fitz-Harding to the dame, " while secure in this house, which is almost as capable of being defended as Monfltchat Tower, or even Castle Bar- nard itself." " But I doubt whether I should have leave to defend it," observed Fitz-Richard, " as my namesake in former days would have done the castle." " He would not have asked leave," said Fitz-Harding, " and I see not why you should ; EUSTACE FITZ-RICHARD. 57 should ; but what with the insolence of the mob on the one hand, and respect for the laws on the other, I question if there is a rich man in the city will have a roof over his head six months hence." " But how can a civil magistrate of the city," said Fitz-Richard, " pretend to make a military fortress of his house, as the baron of Barnard Castle does his of right?" " By the same rule by which Thomas Fitz-Thomas has usurped all authority into his own hands, and by mere force driven all your aldermen from your ma- gisterial seats," said Fitz-Harding ; " force must be resisted by force, and I would defend my house by every means I could command." " Fitz-Thomas is the chief magistrate, although he has exceeded his legal powers," replied Fitz-Richard ; " and as long as he is in authority, it would be lawless in in- dividuals to resist him by force; besides, D 5 he 58 EUSTACE FITZ-RICHARD. he has the whole population of the city at his command." " You citizens," said Fitz-Harding, im- patiently, " have such a childish respect for authority, that I believe you would obey the mayor's staff, could it speak." " The miracle would doubtless be a suf- ficient excuse," said Fitz-Richard, laugh- ingly ; " we are no doubt very dutiful, and perhaps take our example from a ship's crew's implicit obedience to the will, however wayward, of their captain." " Oh, the cases are quite different," said Fitz-Harding ; " at sea there is a neces- sity for the most rigid obedience." " Not greater," replied Fitz-Richard, " than in that troubled ocean, a populous city." " But I trust," interposed the alderman, " that the earl of Leicester, who is ex- pected to enter the city to-morrow, will restore every thing to peace." " As soon expect it from a Flanders pirate, when he thinks his own ship the strongest EUSTACE FITZ-RICHARD. 59 strongest in the Channel," said Fitz- Harding. " You would not compare the courteous earl of Leicester," said dame Fitz-Richard, " to a cruel pirate, who spares neither man, woman, nor child ?" " To nothing milder," he replied ; " and out of my great love to your very worthy populace, I would desire nothing better than that he should be master of the city for one twelvemonth ; and if he would not put an end to their clamours, by twisting their scoundrel necks, as coolly as your very excellent cook does pullets, my name is not Giles Fitz-Harding, late captain of the British Lion." " Oh, what a vile idea !" exclaimed the dame — " to compare the elegant earl of Leicester to my cook twisting a poor pul- let's neck ! Yet I protest that vile mob deserve no better than to be used so. I would never have thought that English- men would have so acted towards a wo- man." d 6 " Call 60 EUSTACE FITZ-RICHARD. " Call them not Englishmen," said Fitz- Harding indignantly ; " there is not one of them deserves the name." Fitz- Harding, then addressing Adeline, said — " I understand, madam, you have recently resided with her grace the queen ; may I ask if you have had an opportunity of knowing how she bore that most atrocious attack ?" " With a fortitude that now appears to me almost superhuman," replied Adeline; " although at the time I was so much dis- tracted, that but for the circumstance of happening to receive her commands, I should not have known that she was the only person on board who was perfectly undismayed." " Good Heavens ! were you one of the young ladies I saw in the barge ?" ex- claimed Fitz-Harding. " I was there," replied Adeline, smiling i " but when that monstrous stone struck the beak of the boat, I was so terrified, that I recollect nothing until, when the danger EUSTACE FITZ-RICHAUD. 61 danger was over, I found myself kneeling at the door of the queen's cabin." " I saw the whole transaction," said Fitz-Harding, his dark visage becoming pale ; " and never before did my heart quail as it did at that moment. My God ! and you are now as calm as though you had just come out of a cloister, in which you had passed your days, instead of from a peril that paralyzed my whole frame to behold from a place of security." " Oh, sir, we are light creatures," said Adeline, gaily ; " and I question much if there have not been more jests than re- proaches uttered this day by those young ladies that were in the barge, against that uncourteous bridge guard." " Thrice blessed England !" cried Fitz- Harding with enthusiasm, " thou canst never be destitute of heroes, when thou hast such mothers yet in store !" " I think, noble captain," said Fitz- Richard with assumed gravity, '* that it is necessary you should account for your being 62 EUSTACE FITZ-RICHARD. being so near the scene of action as to be able to see all that passed in the barge ; were you one of the men who, with iron levers, overturned a ton weight of stone at a very critical moment ?" " I scorn to answer a question of as- sumed authority from a deposed magis- trate," replied Fitz-Harding, laughing; and then turning to Adeline, added — " I was in the Ship inn, in the Mermaid room — you know it, alderman ; the win- dow jets over close by the first arch. I dined there with some old messmates, whose ships are lately come up the river. By the way, master Fitz-Richard, one of them has a score of hogsheads of prime Bordeaux for you. We were drinking a stoup of Burgundy ; there were six of us, all old captains, who have seen service, have sunk ships, and been sunk, or near it, ourselves ; but when we saw that barge full of beautiful women, and that multi- tude of devils, oh, how we wished for our crews ! but when you were ready to pass the EUSTACE FITZ-RICHARD. 63 the arch, and we beheld that huge rock tumbling down upon you, I felt as though the Ship inn had been overwhelmed. When I could again see, for I was a mo- ment blind, I could scarcely credit my senses that I still beheld the barge : that captain deserves knighthood, and hang me if we would ever laugh at his gilt spurs, should he even run up the rattlings in them !" The conversation again turned on the expected entrance of the earl of Leicester and the rebel barons — " All the prating fellows," said the other guest, " are now haranguing their committees of hundreds and of thousands, and procuring their as- sent to a set of statutes for the future regulation of our commerce, and govern- ment of our city ; and which lord Lei- cester has promised to have confirmed by the king and parliament." " And from such legislators," said Fitz- Richard, laughing, " we may confidently expect a code of laws, that will raise the liberties 64 EUSTACE FITZ-RICHAItB. liberties of commerce to such a height, that London will become the emporium of the world." " I have this day seen a scrawl of some of their new regulations," observed the alderman ; " and they have ruled it that no one shall use a chisel, or a needle, or any other artificer's implement, nor sell aught in this good city, but they and their descendants." " Just what might be expected," ob- served Fitz-Richard. "I am impatient to see how Leicester, who has promised beforehand to grant them all they ask in this way, will get out of the dilemma ; for he is too wise to comply with their absurd regulations." " Tush !" exclaimed Fitz-Harding, " why the more unreasonable they are in their demands, the better for him ; he will pro- mise to give all his support to their un- exceptionable claims and just rights, as he will style all they ask ; and then throwing the rejection of them on the poor king and EUSTACE FITZ-RICHARD. 65 and the parliament at large, will make the exasperated multitude shout with ten- fold vociferation, * Down with the king ! down with the parliament ! the good Lei- cester for ever !" " Do you think Montfort will venture on calling a parliament ?" asked the alder- man. " He will, most probably," replied Fitz- Harding, " make use of the king's name, as after the mad parliament of Oxford ; and as to those he will summon to sit in it, they will be his own creatures only, although he will be pleased to style it a full parliament." " Then you think the good king will be kept a state prisoner ?" " I cannot doubt it," replied Fitz- Harding. " But I can," dame Fitz-Richard warm- ly said ; " why have I not heard lord Leicester, with my own ears, no farther back than the last eve of the Blessed Vir- gin, declare he loved his brother the good king 66 EUSTACE FITZ-RICHARD. king Harry, and protest that he never took up arms against his grace, but only against his evil counsellors, especially those foreigners, who, he said, were the only enemies the king had ?" " And you believed him, dame ?" said the master. " How could I do otherwise ; never did man speak more amiably, more kindly, than he did ; and whether you believe it or not, with your scornful lip, I can tell you that he was so condescending as to appeal to my judgment, whether he could possibly act otherwise than he did." " Oh, after that," said her husband, with much composure, " it is impossible to doubt the decision you gave. But let that pass ; I however hope the king now knows him ; and when Montfort enters the city this time with the red earl of Glou- cester and the rest of the rebel barons, he will endeavour to keep the Tower walls between them and himself, and not be imposed on by the shallow flatteries with which EUSTACE FITZ-RICHARD. 67 which Montfort wins the hearts of me- chanics and women." * Mechanics and women ! mechanics and women !" iterated the dame in high disdain ; " would to Heaven he could teach politeness to some of the chief men of the city ! Mechanics and women ! — Captain Fitz-Harding, I appeal to you — whether were the women you saw in the barge at London Bridge this day, or the aldermen of the city, the better men ?" " Oh, the women beyond all doubt were better than the aldermen !" replied captain Fitz-Harding, laughing. CHAP- 68 EUSTACE FITZ-RICHAKD. CHAPTER III. +* .+*+*■+*■**■**• The unwonted and alarming events of the day so occupied the thoughts of Ade- line, that the sun had long risen before disturbed slumbers sealed her eyes ; and when she awoke, she for some time gazed around her without any recollection of the change which had occurred, and had placed her in a chamber in which every thing appeared strange ; but soon the truth flash- ed on her mind, and at that moment Mar- garet entered on tiptoe ; but when she perceived that Adeline was awake, she eagerly exclaimed — " Oh, lady Adeline ! how much I longed for your awakening ! but it is too late now; and my father would not permit your being disturbed, although my mother and I were so anxi- ous you should see it all." " What EUSTACE FITZ-RICHARD. 69 " What did you wish me to see ?" in- quired Adeline ; * it must have been a very charming sight, if I am to judge from the animation of your countenance." " And so it was — oh, the most beautiful sight in the world ! — the entrance of lord Leicester and the barons : there they came along the bridge from Surry, with all their knights and esquires, heralds and trum- pets : first came the royal standard " " The royal standard! you mistake, Margaret." ° Indeed, madam, it was the royal standard, as large as the side of a house ; and the golden dragon blazing in its dark red field." " Audacious rebel !" " Madam !" " Oh, not you, Margaret," said Adeline. " Well, so they were all very fine, were they ?" " Oh that I had language to tell how gallant they looked !" continued Marga- ret ; " there was the earl of Leicester, and the *~* The Binder will nlease substitute thi* leaf in nlnr^ nf the m 70 EUSTACE FlTZ-RICHAfcD. the young earl of Gloucester, whom peo- ple call the red earl, but I do not know why, and the earl of Derby, and a hundred more whose names I have forgotten ; and there they rode along the bridge, not in a crowd, but each great earl with his ban- ner and trumpets sounding, and knights and esquires following ; and the sun shone and gleamed on their armour, and the horses tossed their heads, and pranced so proudly, and the barons bowed to the right and to the left, as the people tossed up their caps and cheered them, shouting ever as they passed — ' A Leicester ! — a Gloucester !— a Derby! — a Hereford! 5 as each noble earl was recognised. — The Blessed Virgin ! there are tears in your eyes, lady Adeline !" " My gentle Margaret, the good king saw all this from the Tower, and yester- day he saw those people endeavour to murder his wife at that bridge r " Oh dear ! oh dear ! I never once thought of that, I solemnly protest; I never EUSTACE FITZ-RICHARD. 71 never could have been so delighted had that occurred to me; and yet, mamma, who ought to have more thought than I, seemed as pleased as I was ; and said that as gallant as the others looked, they were all inferior to their chief, the earl of Lei- cester, and wondered if he would call at this house, as he once did last year ; and then she said most certainly he would, on account of you, lady Adeline." Adeline sighed. " Don't you love the earl of Leicester ? I mean don't you like him ? that is, have not you a respectful regard for him — as your guardian ?" " I neither love, like, regard, nor re- spect him," said Adeline, with some im- patience, but not at Margaret. Margaret, however, remained silent; and Adeline, fearful she had hurt her, said — " Forgive my petulance — I cannot think of my gra- cious sovereign, and entertain one kindly feeling towards his oppressor." " And you will make me hate him," said 72 EUSTACE FITZ-RICHARD. said Margaret ; " but I must not let mamma know that. Oh lud ! there it is tolling midday, and you are not dressed, and there will be company to dinner. Do let me, dear lady Adeline, help you to attire yourself. — I wonder whether Eus- tace will dine at home to-day," said Mar- garet, while she officiously attended on Adeline. " And who is Eustace, mistress Mar- garet ?" " Oh, only my brother — he was on guard all night at one of the city gates ; he is captain of a troop of our city horse, and he is so proud of his helmet and sword, that he will scarcely speak to me, but treats me just as though I were a child." " Brothers are sometimes saucy, but I wish I had one for all that, Margaret." " Well, I declare I must not open my lips again, for every thing I say makes you sigh ; and yet you are a fine court lady, and I thought they must all be so happy ! EUSTACE FITZ-RICHARD. /3 happy ! — Mercy on us, there is the first bell for dinner ! now let me see — you look charmingly — what beautiful embroidery !" When they entered the saloon, dame Fitz-Richard presented Adeline to some of her female friends who had arrived ; and the entrance of lord Leicester and the barons was spoken of, but with all that quietness of manner which generally oc- curs when a person who is a stranger ap- pears, and to whom deference is thought to be due. In a few minutes Fitz-Richard entered; but he was scarcely allowed to pay his respects to any one, before the presence of the court lady seemed to be forgotten, and he assailed with a shower of questions, which fell so fast and so thick, that he was actually stunned — " Have you seen the earl of Leicester ? — Is he going to besiege the Tower ? — Did he shake hands with Thomas Fitz-Thomas ?— Will the earl knight him ? — What will become vol. L e of 74 EUSTACE FITZ-RICHARD. of the king ? — Will they force the queen out of sanctuary ? — Is the earl of Glou- cester actually as red as a boiled lobster ? — Has Henry Montfort really taken out his freedom at Merchant-Tailors' Hall ? — Does he wear armour or duffle ? — Do the Welsh actually eat live cows ?• — and drink all the milk in the dairies? — and not taste either wine, brandy, or mead ? —Will the mob be quiet? — Will they make either Pewelesden, or Stephen Buckerel, the next mayor ? — Is it true that the earl of Derby entertains the devil at the Peak ?— Will " " By all the saints that have been mar- tyred, from Stephen to Thomas a Becket," exclaimed Fitz-Richard, clapping both hands to his ears, " I can neither answer, nor even hear your questions, unless you will have the goodness to put them one at a time, and in a quiet, business-like way !" But before precedence could be established, the guests came in so rapidly, that he was saved EUSTACE FITZ-RICHARD. 75 saved for the present the trouble of an- swering any of them. Adeline, seated in the recess of one of the windows, was a quiet and amused spectator of this burst of vivacity, and heartily wished Agnes had heard some of the questions ; " but the lobster ! and Henry Montfort in duffle ! — a freeman of Merchant-Tailors' Hall ! Oh, my dear Bas- set, you will positively expire." While her eyes glanced on the in- creasing groups who were blending cere- mony with the keen interests of the eventful times, as they recognised, bowed, and spoke to each other, a young man entered, with that careless, easy mien, which declares a person to be at home ; and not having the ceremonial of re- ceiving guests to perform, seems almost indifferent to any ceremony whatever. His dress was also not that of a guest, and was more fitted for the field than a lady's saloon. Over a tunic of blue cloth, which opening in front, fell almost to the ground, e 2 he 76 EUSTACE FITZ-RICHARD. he wore a hauberk of steel rings, which being divided from the loins downwards, descended half way to his knees ; through an aperture in the left flap his sword was passed. As he moved, the tunic was thrown aside by well-formed limbs, clad in long, tight hose of red cloth ; these were terminated by short, wide boots, with long-pointed toes, stuffed and twisted like a ram's horn. The hood of his tunic was thrown back, discovering a profusion of rich, brown hair, parted in front, and fall- ing down on the shoulders in wavy luxu- riance. His head and neck were of the noblest form, and the expression of his countenance was open, manly, and pleas- ing ; his forehead was high and broad, his blue eyes full and brilliant, his nose aqui- line, his mouth particularly well formed, and his teeth white and regular ; his eye- brows were slightly arched, and his mus- taches small and curled up to a point ; his left hand rested on the cross of his sword, EUSTACE FITZ-RICHARD. 77 sword, and the bent arm held his steel headpiece. Adeline did not doubt of this being Eustace Fitz-Richard, and she smiled as she thought that she beheld the captain of city horse Agnes wished to see De Wilton tilt with, and who was to upset his stool, while he would scrape back his cornardo boot in drinking her health, and whom she had promised to run away from the moment he should be fairly on both knees. But truly, she thought, he don't seem to have any such design, or he would have tried to make a more favourable im- pression at first sight, than to appear in that uncouth garb. Agnes de Clare's sa- tire had the effect of making Adeline give more attention to what was passing, than she otherwise might have done ; and Eus- tace Fitz-Richard's attire was so unique amongst the flowing tunics of the seniors, and their various-coloured hose, that her eyes involuntarily followed him as he strolled from group to group. Yet there e 3 was 78 EUSTACE FITZ-RICHARD. was a restlessness in his eyes, as though he was in search of some one ; and at length they fell on Adeline, and there remained for some moments fixed. But again he moved on, and without appearing directly to approach her, at length joined a group, close to where she sat. He answered a crowd of questions, in the same laughing, careless manner which had marked his progress through the room; but still his eyes would revert to Adeline, and then pass on — and again pause on her in a new circling, he still speaking, but rather teas- ing by his replies, than answering the questions that were put to him — " Con- founded guard — up all night— just re- lieved — on duty again to-morrow — lord Leicester swears we shall be the finest soldiers in his whole army- — could not help giving young Fitz-Thomas a quiet look — turned pale, would run away the first charge — not wait even for that. Oh, lord Leicester a devilish fine fellow—never saw such an eye — looked clean through every EUSTACE FITZ-RICHARD. 79 every man of us — some must have felt deuced queer — oh no, the devil says the Peak belongs to prince Edward, and not to Bob Ferrers — so took wing, and has joined Ned at Windsor. — The Welsh ! oh, all true — drink nothing but milk — eat the cows alive, and would as soon touch bread as old Kok-ben, Abraham, would that boar's head which smells so deli- ciously." At this moment dame Fitz-Richard came up, and taking his hand, brought him before Adeline, and said — " Permit my son, lady Adeline, to have the honour of paying his respects to you.*' She re- tired, and young Fitz-Richard said—" I am most happy, madam, to see you have so completely recovered from the terrors and dangers you were yesterday exposed to ; had our rascally mayor permitted it, we would have proved whether some of our troopers or his rabble were the better men. But since we did not do any thing for the queen's service, it would be as well e 4 to 80 EUSTACE FITZ-RICHAItD. to avoid boasting of what we might have done, had our request to clear the bridge been complied with." " I rejoice, sir, to hear that the city troops would have defended the queen — I had understood they were of lord Lei- cester's party." " Both suppositions, madam, are cor- rect ; we should certainly have defended the queen, as a woman and a princess, from the brutality of our execrable popu- lace ; but if the war continues, we shall undoubtedly join our city standard to lord Leicester's." " I should have thought, sir, that men of honour and gallantry would have pre- ferred fighting in defence of an amiable, though unfortunate monarch." " Many of us, madam, may so feel ; but citizens are only powerful when an united body — individually they are nothing; therefore as a vast majority have declared for the earl of Leicester and the barons, the dissentient few have no other alterna- tive EUSTACE FITZ-RICHARD. 81 tive than joining them, or remaining neutral." " Which is not refused, sir, to your father, and many others of the most re- spectable citizens." " And I have no doubt our masters, the mob, will pull down the houses of these very respectable neutrals," he replied ; " yet perhaps not as such, but from knowing them to be sincere well-wishers, though most inefficient supporters of the king." Y And would it not be better, sir, to have one's houses pulled down, than to fight in an unjust cause?" " No doubt, madam, it would ; but I never heard of a cause, of which both sides had not stout maintainers of its justice; and therefore many men, as I do, go along with a stream, which carries with it the whole centre of England." " But I should think, sir, an indepen- dent man, and man of spirit, would not be content to go with the stream, but would decide for himself which was the just e 5 cause, 82 EUSTACE FITZ-RICHARD. cause, and draw his sword alone in defence of that." " As a general principle, madam, your argument is unanswerable ; but were I to speak of an humble individual like my- self, I should not think it so fully appli- cable ; for were I to join the king, or ra- ther prince Edward, I should be an ob- scure soldier, on whom his haughty nobles would look down with contempt ; but in the army of the city of London, the son of William Fitz-Eiehard has a place amongst the first ; his father might be the first, and as we are not free from pride, lady, although but scorned citizens, I take my place under the standard of the city." " I cannot but regret, sir, that prince Edward has not yet had an opportunity of securing to that of his royal father, those well-minded spirits, who I rejoice to find are in the rebel army." " Ah, lady !" said Eustace, laughing and bowing, " you must not flatter us and call us rebels at the same time. In fact* the EUSTACE FITZ-RICHARD. 83 the king does not style us rebels ; he has entered into a treaty of peace with Lei- cester and his allies as a regular estate; indeed I should much sooner expect to hear of Simon having proclaimed Henry a rebel, than the king proclaiming Lei- cester such. — Ah ! the bell calls : will you allow me, madam, the honour of conduct- ing you to the dining-hall ? Provoking ! here is my father hurrying towards you ; I must give place to this very respectable neutral ; thank Heaven, that on this occa- sion he is such !" and again he bowed and turned away with the same light mien which had so completely disappeared du- ring his conversation with Adeline, Fitz-Richard led Adeline from the sa- loon, followed by the whole company, to the dining-hall, a spacious apartment, and in every respect calculated for those large entertainments, which the master's wealth, and station in the city, rendered as ne- cessary as it was accordant with the hos- pitality of his disposition. e 6 Adeline 84 EUSTACE FITZ-RICHARD. Adeline sat on the right of dame Fitz- Richard, but the alderman who had sup- ped there was between them, and on Adeline's right sat captain Fitz-Harding. Eustace sat considerably lower down on the opposite side, and Margaret on her father's right hand, who did the honours opposite his dame. — " But I need not watch this captain Eustace," Adeline men- tally said ; " he will neither stand up to drink my health, nor scrape his foot, nor kick his stool, nor bob his head, nor how provoking ! Agnes will be quite dis- appointed ; but let me see — will my report of the dinner afford food for her spleen ?" and she surveyed the table ; it was pro. fusely covered after the manner of that and many subsequent ages ; and there were many delicacies intermixed with the more solid dishes ; and she was forced to admit that dame Fitz-Richard at least, whatever other city dames might, certainly knew how to direct the setting out her table. &akii When EUSTACE FITZ-RICHARD. 85 When the dinner was ended, Fitz- Richard filled a silver cup with wine, and rising, said — " It behoves us, my friends, now that the enemy is within our walls, to drink the health I shall now give you, not lightly, and as a vain and unimportant custom, but seriously ; I repeat it, not lightly, but seriously, with sincere minds and loyal hearts — now my friends, The king ! God bless him !" The toast was distinctly repeated by every one at table, and the cups were quaffed. Adeline tasted the wine, and would have put down the cup, but she observed the other ladies took not theirs from their lips until they had done the same honour to the toast as the men. She glanced at young Margaret, and Margaret was looking at her with similar thoughts. When they now all put down their cups and resumed their seats, Adeline was afraid her loyalty might be called in question ; but fortunately none could observe the fulness of her walnut cup but the alder- man 86 EUSTACE FITZ-RICHARD. man and Fitz-Harding, and Adeline bless- ed their politeness, which made them neither remark nor appear to observe it. — " You and I, Agnes," she thought, " know some noble courtiers who would not have so let us off. Positively, this alderman and sea captain are not quite barbarians." " I believe, lady Adeline," said Fitz- Richard, " we are indebted to you for those French grapes ; they arrived this morning from the bishop's palace, with a very gracious message from the queen to me; but, nevertheless, I feel that we owe the honour to the lady Ade- line's presence under my humble roof." " You do yourself much injustice, sir," said Adeline, blushing with delight at the queen's remembrance at such a mo- ment ; " I assure you, I yesterday heard the queen, in the presence of my lord bishop, and all the ladies of her train, mention, in the highest terms, master Fitz-Richard, whom she styled one of the king's EUSTACE FITZ-RICHATID. 87 king's most faithful, worthy, and esteemed subjects." Fitz-Richard's countenance glowed with delight, and a murmur ran round the company ; while the alderman on her left, bending forward, and turning his face with the most amiable expression to Ade- line, softly said — " Was her grace pleased to mention any other of the king's faith* ful citizens ?" " The queen assured all who heard her," replied Adeline, " that all the citizens of London, who were eminent for their merit, wealth, and character, are faithful and trusty subjects of the king." " It is truly delightful to be blessed with a queen of such just discernment," said the alderman. " But did not her grace particularly name any other of the chief magistrates than our worthy host? for instance, alderman Pewelesden, or Buckerel ? As to my own humble name of Segrave, I could not expect that it would have been recollected." "Her 88 EUSTACE FITZ-RICHARD. " Her grace's particular mention of master Fitz-Richard," replied Adeline, to the persevering alderman, " arose from the circumstance of my being taken from under her own protection, to be placed awhile under his roof. When occasion demands it, the queen always proves that she never forgets the names of the loyal supporters of the king and royal family." The alderman bowed, and then address- ing dame Fitz-Richard in a whisper, but audible to Adeline, said — " This is a vast- ly discreet young lady. Really these court dames, when they are well bred, and have good sense, are wonderfully intelligent and agreeable." The attention of the whole company had turned on the alarming situation of the royal family ; and Eustace said, with warmth — " I am a soldier, and have only to follow my standard; but you mag- nates of the city are shamed by the cool- ness and courage of this unfortunate prin- cess. Yesterday within a hair's breadth of EUSTACE FITZ-RICHARD. 89 of being torn to pieces by your rascally po- pulace, and still surrounded by them, well knowing they would willingly murder her, she yet performs all the courtesies of life, with a calmness that proclaims a courage and presence of mind, which, if you pos- sessed and exercised, might yet snatch the city out of the hands of Thomas Fitz- Thomas and his vile rabble, and give us lads of the sword an opportunity of fight- ing for the queen and ladies of England." At this moment a trumpet in the front court sounded. All were in an instant silent, and in the next a servant hurrying in, announced — " The earl of Leicester." Every eye was turned to the doorway; a bustle was heard in the outer hall, and thrice was repeated — " The earl of Lei- cester!" Montfort entered, and all the company rose. In person, Simon Montfort was of a majestic figure and noble presence. His dark flowing locks, parted in the centre, were yet ungrizzled by time. His com- plexion 90 EUSTACE FITZ-RICHARD. plexion swarthy ; his features regular, and the expression of his countenance elevated. There might be traced in the curl of his lip, beneath his dark mustaches, a proud, if not a scornful expression ; but when he smiled, there was witchery in its sweet- ness. From his attire it was evident he placed the most perfect confidence in his personal safety in the city, for although he had that morning entered it at the head of the barons' army, he had com- pletely laid aside the panoply of steel in which he had then been clad. He now wore a tunic of crimson silk, flowing to the ground, and the sleeves of which were confined at the wrists with bracelets of gold, studded with precious stones, as was a collar of gold round his throat. A sur- coat, without sleeves, of violet- coloured silk, was superbly embroidered with gold. The surcoat was girded round the loins with a Persian baldrick of crimson velvet : the scabbard of the cimeter he wore, and of a poniard which was sheathed beside it, EUSTACE FITZ-RICHARD. 91 it, were, like the belt, richly embroidered and decorated with jewels. His boots, of red velvet, were wide and short in the leg, and with that preposterous length of toe, originally intended, by its downwards curve, as a security to the hold of the foot in the stirrup, and which Anna Comines describes as disabling a dismounted knight from walking; but it now inclined up- wards, although it was not until the still more foppish days of Richard the Second, that the long toe was connected to the knees by chains. On one hand he still wore a glove of white leather, which reach* ed half way up the arm, and was em- broidered with gold round the upper part. The other glove, and his cap of black vel- vet, looped with jewels, were carried by the pages who attended him. The presence of this distinguished guest was an unsought honour, on the part of Fitz-Richard, and as little desired by him- self as the majority of the company, who were, in fact, assembled at the house of the 92 EUSTACE FITZ-RICHARD. the leader of the king's party in the city, in honour of their cause, and to mark by their absence from the entertainment with which the mayor welcomed the entrance of the barons, their disapprobation of his conduct. But since the earl of Leicester had chosen to enter his house, Fitz-Rich- ard received him with the honour due to his high rank ; and the dame, with undis- guised delight, had a seat placed for him next herself. The earl's health was drank by the master ; and Montfort, in return, with a glance and smile which seemed direct- ed to every individual at the table, al- though the whole was but the action of a moment, kissed the goblet, which had been brought him by his page from the master, and quaffed its contents. When this ceremony was ended, Lei- cester addressed himself, with many flat- tering speeches, to the dame ; and as his eyes glanced along the company, who seemed to have forgotten all other sub- jects, EUSTACE FITZ-RICHARD. 93 jects, and to have eyes for no other objects than himself, he said to her, but although in low tones, such was the sudden silence created by his presence, that his words were heard by all — " When I look around, gentle dame, I am no longer surprised at master Fitz-Richard's absence from the entertainment given me and the barons by your worthy mayor: but my disap- pointment of his presence, and that of other gentlemen whom I see at your hos- pitable board, will, I doubt not, be atoned for to-morrow, by their attendance at a banquet which Fitz-Thomas is to give to the flower of English chivalry." After a moment, he added — " My kind dame, ought I not to know those ladies ? are they not the wives and daughters of the chief magistrates of the city ? Yes, I could not be mistaken f and then more aloud, and every lady thought that to her he more particularly smiled and spoke, as he said — " There are many flatter them- selves — Gloucester and Derby, Hereford and 94 EUSTACE FITZ-RICHARD. and Norfolk, Surrey and Warwick, and a hundred more, and I your servant — that we shall have the honour to-morrow even- ing to lead you down a merry dance, to the finest music the world can produce, which I have collected from every clime for the delight and service of the ladies of London." AH the loyalty which had been so re- cently called up by the seriously-given toast to the king, was dissipated like the thinnest mist before the sudden blaze of a meridian sun; and dame Fitz-Richard, and all the gentle dames, dazzled by the present honour and promised triumph of the morrow, knew not how, with smile and simper, sufficiently to express the exquisite delight that tingled through every vein. But not so their spouses : they had shunned the entertainment of Fitz-Thomas, as they would a pestilence which was to lay their city waste; and yet not one of them could brace his nerves sufficiently to the telling Leicester to his face EUSTACE FITZ-RICHARD. 95 face that they would not meet him on the morrow at the civic banquet, nor allow their wives and daughters to be present at the ball. Not that any one of them acknowledged, even to himself, such cra- ven spirit ; but with laudable ingenuity decided, that it would be neither proper to interrupt the present festivity by any angry discussion, nor even appear to notice a speech not addressed to them, but to their ladies. Nevertheless, they groaned in spirit, when they thus saw the advan- tage lord Leicester had gained, and were ready to exclaim — " Not only are the rulers and the people against us, but the very wives of our bosoms, and the daugh- ters of our flesh !" Montfort continued his flattering atten- tions to the dame and her fair guests, until the unwelcome moment when propriety demanded their retiring from the festal board : he then said — " With your leave, gentle dame, I will join your fair party for half-an-hour previous to my departure; my 96 EUSTACE FITZ-RICHARD. my barge is to be beneath your garden- wall at sunset." This rekindled the smiles in the dames' dimpled cheeks, and they withdrew. Montfort beckoned to his page, who instantly brought him a cup of wine, and with a slight bow and wave of his hand to Fitz-Richard, as asking permission, took the dame's seat at the head of the board. He then said — " We will drink to your good dame, and her fair guests, master Fitz-Richard ; they are a beaute- ous bevy, and worthy of the hearts and hands of the best men in England." The toast having been drunk, he again claimed attention. — " Before we sit down, I pray you fill your goblets again;" which, when done, and every hand was raised, and every eye was fixed on him, he gave — M Prosperity to the great city of London !" The toast was drunk ; the goblets reversed. — " Fill, my friends, once more." The beakers and flasks were hurried about. — " May the peers of England ever be the friends EUSTACE FITZ-RICHARD. 97 friends of the citizens ! Hurra ! Hurra ! — Once more, I pray you. More Burgundy ! More champaign !" The corks flew — the beakers foamed — the goblets overflowed. — " May the commerce of England be boundless as the ocean, and the sun rising in the east, and setting in the west, shine in its whole course on the territories of the citizens of London !" Whether the champaign inspired them with a prophetic fury or not, the daring flights of Montfort were shouted to by the suddenly-intoxicated company, and when he now, by sitting down, allowed them to resume their seats, there was scarcely one of them who possessed that collectedness of mind necessary to guard against his fascinations ; and having thus prepared the way, he allowed not his pur- pose to cool, but assailed them with all those sentiments most likely to flatter their love of their city's greatness, which was, in truth, but a nobler colour given to that of their own ; and by bold hints vol. i. F of 98 EUSTACE FITZ-llICHARD. of what a more enterprising government might enable them to accomplish, he suc- ceeded in, for a while, stifling all those feelings and opinions which it had hither- to been their pride to entertain ; and as he never allowed the wine to rest, it is not difficult to conceive that, in a very- short time, he had completely succeeded in gaining their enthusiastic admiration ; and when he suddenly bade them fare- well, they filled their goblets to overflow- ing, and with loudest cheers drank to the noble earl of Leicester. These sounds reached the ears of the ladies at the very moment when they were in deepest consultation, how they should possibly induce their husbands to be present at the civic banquet on the following day, a point indispensable to their own attendance, with any propriety, at the mask in the evening, but of which there seemed scarcely any reasonable hope, from the violent hostility existing between them and Fitz-Thomas, and their hatred of EUSTACE FITZ-RICHARD. 99 of the factious barons. But when they heard the earl of Leicester's health drunk with an enthusiasm which shook the house, they concluded their own victory already gained ; and when Montfort now entered, their joy was so great, they could scarcely restrain its appearance within the cold limits of decorum. Leicester entered with an elated air, but without the slightest appearance of inebriation; and when it is remembered that he had come from an entertainment at the city hall, to the fast-flowing bum- pers of master Fitz-Richard's hospitable board, we know not to which we ought to give our admiration — to the strength of the earl's brain, or to the skill of his cupbearer. With a vein of the liveliest gallantry, Montfort addressed himself to all, and yet with such happy effect, by an expression, a glance of the eye, a bow, or smile, as made every individual believe that she had been the one most honoured. A doubt having been expressed of their f 2 husbands 100 EUSTACE FITZ-RICHARD. husbands being at the mayor's banquet on the morrow, he immediately said, that al- though he had no doubt they would be there, as a mark of that union which would best preserve the peace of the city, yet that he relied on his fair friends to pre- vent their being kept away by any un- happy disagreement with Fitz-Thomas, concluding — " Peace is the object of our entrance into London, and on you, its brightest ornaments, it much depends. Need I say how delighted I and my bro- ther peers will be, when we acknowledge it to you, on kissing your hands to-mor- row evening, in presence of the whole city ?" Then bowing to all, he turned away, and approached Adeline, who had been seated apart in the embrasure of a window, a distant spectator of Leicester's mode of courting popularity. With a look of much kindness he took her passive hand, and softly said — " You will pardon me, my dear lady Adeline, for having gi- ven so many minutes to those persons, be- fore EUSTACE FITZ-RICHARD. 101 fore I offered my compliments to your- self; but the truth is, I had previously as- certained every particular connected with your repose, your health, and your welfare; and those kind of folks are so lynx-eyed after their own doubtful consequence, that when we want to gain a point with them, we must not do it by halves; and as I could not pay them a higher compliment than that of addressing them before I did myself the honour of paying my devoirs to you, neither could I more clearly assure you of my thorough knowledge of your character, than by venturing the appear- ance of a slight, which a weaker mind would so highly resent." Adeline was taken by surprise, and could only bow in reply ; she had seldom seen the earl of Leicester, and then only in the presence of the queen; and no courtesy beyond a formal salutation had ever passed between them ; yet he now came up to her with all the ease, the kind- ness, and interest of an old friend, and F 3 spoke 102 EUSTACE FITZ-RICHARD. spoke as though he had been a careful ob- server, and attentive to every thing con- nected with her well-being, which, though accordant with his trust, had been render- ed almost unnecessary, from her having continued under the immediate protection of the queen. He had now taken his seat beside h€r, and after regarding her a moment, said — f I take much blame to myselfj charming Adeline, for having been so negligent a guardian of so fair a gem, but it is still spring with you," and she thought he sighed ; " but I will no longer slight my trust. In a few days, I hope, with the blessing of God, that we shall have a happy peace ; I will then take an oppor- tunity of making a proposition, which, I trust, will be equally agreeable to your feelings, as it will be consistent with your rightful expectations." " To what, my lord, am I to presume you allude ?" " I shall make a wretched wooer for another," EUSTACE FITZ-RICHARD. 103 another," he hastily said; then added — " But more of this anon : in the mean time, can you be content to remain in this place?" " I should prefer returning to the queen, might I be permitted." A cloud passed over Montfort's brow, and he said — " That cannot be ; I would offer you the immediate protection of the princess Eleanor, but I am afraid your re- pose would not be consulted by such an arrangement ; and here you are in the very centre to which all my objects continually bring me, enabling me to attend to your particular interest, at the very time I am employed on that of the nation. This roof also has its advantages; master Fitz- Richard, although of the malignant fac- tion, is yet, from his mercantile pursuits, in some degree in my interest; besides which, he is a most worthy man, and one in whom every confidence may be safely reposed. The very situation of the house is desirable, affording so pleasant and ready f 4 a com- 104 EtJSTACE FITZ-RICHARIT. a communication with Westminster, that we can pass in and out of the city without going through its vile streets. — But here am I fascinated to your side, dreaming over the bliss of a quiet life, while some of the chief of the troubled spirits of Eng- land are attending my summons at St. Paul's. By the way, if you have no very violent passion for this civic mask, it would perhaps be as well that you did not honour it with your presence ; there will be a strange assemblage — the wives and daughters of Thomas Fitz-Thomas and his precious supporters ! ha ! ha ! ha ! By St. George, I deserve the thanks of the city, for having secured the presence of those very respectable dames and pretty red and white moppets ! there is not a lit- tle finger amongst them that would not be cheerfully sacrificed, could the loss con- vey our conversation to their ears. Adieu^ my fair ward — I shall make my bow to these good folks, and then cool my brain on the Thames." He now made his part- ing EUSTACE FITZ-RICHARD. 105 ing compliments to dame Fitz-Richard and her guests, and withdrew. All the ladies immediately crowded to the windows to see him pass through the garden, and in a few moments he appeared, attended by two knights, four esquires, and as many pages. In the mean while, exclamations broke from every tongue — " What a delightful man ! so affable !"— " Were ever before such eyes in mortal's head ?" — " What a beautiful mouth ! and such handsome mustaches !"— " And such a charming beard !" — " What superb bril- liants in his ears !" — " But who ever saw such hands ? I was positively ashamed of mine being seen !" at the same time hold- ing up the prettiest hands in the whole group. — f What teeth! like the finest pearls ! They may say he is fifty, but I ne- ver saw a man of thirty equal to him." — " And what a voice I what expression ! so tender, yet so lively! so persuasive! no wonder he prevailed on the princess Elea- nor to break her monastic vows — to be a F 5 nun 106 EUSTACE FITZ-RICHARD. nun when such a man sued— oh, bene- dicite!" — " But he should never have married !" " It is lucky he did !" cried dame Fitz- Richard, laughing, " or, I suppose, in- stead of joining in this chorus of admira- tion, we should be pulling each other's head- tire, forgetting all the while that we have such persons as husbands in the sarnehouse." " Oh the brutes !" exclaimed twenty- voices. And now the earl's barge appeared be- yond the walls, striking into the centre of the river, and he was seen to turn towards the admiring group, and wave his plumed cap: they kissed their hands, and waved their handkerchiefs. But intervening ob- jects soon shut out the view of the barge, and the ladies turned from the windows, and with very different expressions of countenance and tones of voice, many of them at the same moment said — " I won- der when those sots of ours will think they have drank enough wine ! at all events, EUSTACE FITZ-RICHARD. 107 events, dame Fitz-Richard, we shall have so many preparations to make for this charming mask, that you will be so good as permit us to depart, and our spouses may find their way home, or not, as they list." Dame Fitz-Richard granted so reason- able a request, and in a little time they had all retired. But the laughter, the shouting, and the cheering, seemed rather to increase than decline in the dining-hall. Adeline, thinking it desirable to avoid any one who might be able to find his way to the saloon, obtained the dame's consent to retire to her own chamber. f 6 CHAP- 108 EUSTACE FITZ-RI€HARD. I ' ifooa oi . . - t ^i CHAPTER IV. M|b When Adeline entered the breakfast- room the following morning, she expe- rienced the same kindness and anxiety for her ease and comfort, on the part of master Fitz-Richard and his dame, which they had evinced from their first reception of her; but she could not avoid observing, when sitting down to the repast, that a heavy cloud overcast the countenance both of the dame and her spouse. " Well, I do wonder what people will say," said the dame, breaking an awkward silence ; " and yet I need not, for they will just say what I would, were any other woman so unhappy." " I am sorry, madam," said Adeline, " that any thing should have occurred to distress you." « Why EUSTACE FITZ-RICHARD. 109 " Why as to that," returned the dame, " no one would allow such a thing to vex her, for no one else would submit to such caprice and tyranny P and she darted an angry glance at her husband : but he saw it not, for he continued with great deli- beration to help himself to the cold fowl and tongue which were placed near him. Adeline, finding the clouds were those of a storm matrimonial, thought it pru- dent to remain silent ; and taking further example from the master, began to attend very industriously to her breakfast, al- though she abstained from the viands he partook of, contenting herself with a bowl of new milk and a roll. But the dame, having already touched before her lady guest on the painful matter of her thoughts, was sorely tempted, by the exacerbation of her feelings, to enlarge on it, which she was perhaps the more hurried into, by some vain attempts she made to divide the pinion bones of a fowl, the not readily succeeding in which was in itself mortify- ing 110 EUSTACE FITZ-RICHARD. ing to one who had been so frequently complimented on her skill in carving, and she again spoke at the mingled objects of her wrath. — " How teasing ! I wonder what they will say ? Was there ever such a plaguy bone! What will dame de la Zouch think? I'll swear the fowl was a tender one ! And that satirical dame Pew- elesden ? Grant me patience ! was there ever such a knife ! I will turn David off this very day ! But, thank Heaven, the poor wife will not have all the sneers ! the great merchant — the enlightened magistrate — the late mayor of London ! — ha ! ha ! ha ! how he will be pointed at, and jeered, and flouted!" Master Fitz-Richard writhed in his seat, and helped himself to some of the cold baron, although he had done little more than cut to pieces the fowl and tongue. " Well, God be praised !" begun the dame, " when a woman does take up an opinion, she will stick to it ; we are no wea- thercocks, to be changed about by every puff EUSTACE FITZ-RICHARD. Ill puff of wind. — Yes, yes, they were wise folks that put up cocks for vanes, and not hens — they knew well enough that if the wind blew until it split the steeple, it would never get a female to turn when she had not a mind." " How very warm it is !" ejaculated master Fitz-Richard, and raising a large silver tankard of mead to his lips, took a long and composed draught. " Nay, nay, you had better have a flask of champaign, instead of home-brewed," quoth the dame, darting a malicious glance at her spouse, " and then mayhap you will change your mind again, and fool yourself with me, and sing — ' I will dine at the hall, dame; You shall dance at the ball, dame." Adeline had some time suspected the point to which the dame's eloquence was directed, but continued crumbling her roll without venturing to look up, lest she should 112 EUSTACE FITZ-RICHARD. should betray a smile at the bitter sorrow of her hostess. Again the dame went on — " Oh Lord, oh Lord, that women would but deter- mine on being the masters — not seriously, after the manner of men when they drink the king's health and a rebel's out of the same cup," and again her eyes glanced on her husband, and her lips quivered with a smile, " but in real earnest, fixed as a rock, determined to perish sooner than give up their point; then we should go for- ward in a straight and dignified manner, neither turning to the right hand nor to the left, but filling the whole earth with the majesty of our deportment." Master Fitz-Richard's eyes were at length turned on his wife, but they again sought the cold baron, for the dame's coun- tenance was grave as though her mind was filled with the consideration of im- portant resolves ; but soon it recurred from speculations, which might have anticipated the flights of a Wolstencroft, to the vital interest EUSTACE FITZ-RICHARD. 113 interest of the moment, and she resumed the attack by springing a new mine. " What an affliction it is to this great city, not to have men of intrepidity for its magistrates ! — men who would take their rightful places at the board in the hall, whe- ther the mayor were to their liking or not ; and, should circumstances demand it, have the courage to declare their sentiments, however obnoxious they might be to him and the barons !" " There is pith in that, dame," said her spouse, laying down his knife and fork ; but he the next moment resumed them, and the same enduring expression of countenance which he had hitherto maintained. " Ay ! said I not rightly ?" the dame eagerly cried, imagining she had at length made a practicable breach in the very crown of the citadel. " Will it not be worthy of the magistrate most looked up to of any in the city, to be in his place at the table with the barons, and, by his presence, keep the vile 114 EUSTACE FITZ-RICHARD. vile may or in awe? and then, when I am in the ball-room, not one low-bred wife, from mistress mayoress Fitz -Thomas to that pert hussey my maid Betty, the cheesemonger's wife, will dare to utter a word disrespectful to the king or queen." Fitz-Richard shook his head, and slowly, and in a low-toned but resolute voice, said — H We must not go." All the dame's new-raised hopes were blighted ; she lost all temper, and starting from her seat, exclaimed — " You must go ! you shall go ! / will go !" Fitz-Richard thrust away his plate, and rose from his seat. He looked mildly but firmly at his wife, and said—" I would sooner go to my grave," and slowly retired from the room. " Was ever woman so unhappy !" eja- culated the dame, concluding the contest as she had begun it. " Dearest mother, be comforted !" said Margaret, softly. " Silence, child ! but mark this well- let EUSTACE FITZ-RICHARD. 115 let this be a warning to you : never be such a fool as to marry, and give up that jewel of inestimable price, the bliss of in- dependence !" " You have always told me, mamma, that I must not expect to be my own mis- tress until I am married." " I was a fool ! we are all fools — all wo- men are fools !" and the unfortunate dame rushed from the apartment. Accompanied by Margaret, Adeline de- scended to the garden, which, although of no great extent, afforded a retired place for exercise, without the necessity of entering the narrow and crowded streets of the city. It was chiefly laid out in grass, short and soft, and intercepted by walks of fine yellow gravel. Roses, jasmine, and honeysuckle, were the predominant ornaments, and they formed bowers de- lightfully shaded from the southern sun. It was defended from the river by what had orignally been part of the city wall, which had in the greater part of its extent, from the 116 EUSTACE FITZ-RIGHARD* the action of the water, almost wholly dis- appeared ; but the proprietors of the house had kept this bulwark of their property in continual repair, although it presented little of its original character, excepting a low semicircular tower at its eastern extremity, being now formed into a broad terrace, defended by a parapet. A flight of six steps led up to the terrace, and a Gothic portal opened into the only chamber of the tower ; this had been fitted up as a summerhouse, and its original loops for archers widened into two windows, which commanded distinct views, the one up and the other down the river. Margaret claim- ed this apartment as peculiarly her own, and now requested that Adeline would consider herself the mistress of it. Its furniture was simple, consisting of two or three stools and a small table; there was also an embroidery frame and a lute, and in a niche a picture of the Virgin, and a small wooden crucifix ; and on a shelf be- neath them, a missal, and a larger volume, which, EUSTACE FITZ-RICHARD. 117 which, on opening, Adeline found to con- tain the lives of some saints, written in the clerkly hand of a monastic multiplier of holy legends. But that which most pleased Adeline with this tower chamber, were the views it commanded — the one down the river of London-bridge and the shipping, with the turrets of the royal for- tress — and that up it, of the broad expanse of water closed in by the projecting shore of Surrey ; and beyond it the magnificent group of buildings, consisting of the palace and hall of Rufus, the Benedictine monas- tery, and a magnificent church, dedicated to St. Peter, now newly erected. Adeline and Margaret were watching some vessels that were gliding with the tide up the river, when a step was heard, and Eustace appeared " Ah, brother," said Margaret, reproach- fully, " what a rake you have become !— -the night before last " " I was on guard, my little censor. — Lady Adeline, I am happy to acquaint you, 118 EUSTACE FITZ-RICHARD. you, that all your friends at the bishop's palace are well ; but whether they retain their charming looks, I cannot, from per- sonal observation, report, having had no other faces to gaze on than those of some good-natured friars, whom I pestered with my inquiries for your satisfaction." Adeline felt grateful for his attention, and so expressed herself. " You stopped me short, master cap- tain," said Margaret; " but you have not told me where you were all last night." * Why, faith, Meg, if not on guard, I was in the guard-house, which is much the same thing, for I find little difference be* tween watching and being watched." " So you were put into the guard-house were you ?" " That king of men, lord Leicester, had set older, if not wiser heads than mine a-going, and when I sallied out to escort some who were but indifferently able to guard themselves, I found the people swimming in such a fantastic manner about the EUSTACE FITZ-RICHARD. 119 the streets, that I could not, for the life of me, refrain from joining in the fine whirling motion, when, luckily, an old friend, although not a very old man, laid hold of me, and drew me into his lodg- ings. I believe I slept, for I swear I saw seven suns brightly shining when I en- tered, and when I next looked about, there was only a solitary lamp burning, and four good fellows, with a couple of flasks of Bordeaux before them. Up I started, and gave them a touch of the earl of Leicester. By St. George, I so speechi- fied, and gave such magnificent toasts, that I made them as mad as myself! and then ■ " Well, what then ?" said his sister. " Why then we sallied out to kick the city watch, and after being successful from the bridge to St. Paul's, we were fairly laid by the heels, and carried to the very guard-house over which I had held command in the morning." " Upon my word, a very pretty ac- count 120 EUSTACE FITZ-RICHARD. count of yourself, and very unblushingly told !" said Margaret : " and what punish- ment are you to have for breaking the peace ?" " A straw for peace ! who wants peace ? war, war is the cry ! Oh, how I should like to make a grand assault on that dis- mal-looking Tower ! — Pardon me, lady Adeline — I beg ten thousand pardons; God forbid I should wish to disturb or injure the king! but if he would he so good as to go to his far more commodious palace at Westminster, and that fine sol- dier, lord Leicester, would just take it into his head to quarrel with us of the city, and shut himself up in the Tower, with his knights and followers, how I should glory in leading the escalade, and proving to their teeth that there is as good blood in London as in the country !" " What a brave man you are— in speech, noble captain !" " None of your sneers, mistress Meg ! — Lady Adeline, I ran hither to acquaint you EUSTACE FITZ-RICHARD. 121 you of the welfare of your friends ; I now take my leave, and must hasten to a mus- ter of our forces." " He is very wild," said his sister, look- ing affectionately after him, M but very good-natured. Now, though he talks so much of fighting, he is as tender-heart- ed as I am ; but I believe he really has courage, though I don't tell him I think so : I once saw him toss a surly waterman, that was half as tall again as himself, into the river; and then, when he saw the poor fellow was in danger of being drown- ed, he leaped in, and brought him safe to shore, at the risk of his own life." There were none at the dinner-table but those who had been of the breakfast party. The dame was sullen, and her spouse silent, except when they addressed Adeline in the necessary courtesies of hos- pitality. When the servants had retired, Adeline, anxious to dissipate the gloom of persons to whom she felt obliged, and yet aware how necessary it was to avoid vol. i. g any 122 EUSTACE FITZ-RICHARD. any subject likely to lead to the ill-starred entertainment of the evening, had consi- dered for some time how she should com- mence, and at length said, addressing Fitz-Eichard — " I am much obliged, sir, by captain Fitz-Richard's having had the kindness to call at the bishop's palace this morning, and make inquiries after the queen's health and that of her ladies." " I am glad the fellow had so much grace," said the alderman. " I wish, master Fitz-Richard, you would not apply such an epithet to my son," interrupted the dame sharply, and laying a strong emphasis on the last words. " Nay, dame, you need not be angry at that," he mildly answered ; " as it was used, it was a term of kindness, not of disrespect." " No one, sir, shall call my son a fel- low, either in kindness or in anger," was the retort. Adeline was almost afraid to proceed, since she began to think that, in the dame's EUSTACE FITZ-BICHARD. 123 dame's present frame of mind, any thing said by a third person might prove an ap- ple of discord; but as Fitz^Richard had turned more towards her, and seemed anxious that she should say something to relieve a dulness which he had scarcely nerve at the time himself to attempt do- ing, she continued — " And although he informed me that my dear mistress was well, and also all my friends who are there, I should be very glad, in the cool of the evening, to pay them a visit, if you think, sir, there will be no danger in pass- ing along the streets." " Why truly, madam, I don't think there will; the people will all be collected about " He paused, and threw a hur- ried glance at his wife, as he was on the brink of pronouncing the name of the place of civic festivity; but the dame turned her head aside, and Fitz-Richard, having collected his thoughts, continued — " I don't think there will be any dis- turbance, lady Adeline ; at all events, not g % until 124 EUSTACE FITZ-RICHARD. until late at night, and I presume you would not wish to be out very late." " Oh no, half-an-hour at the palace is all I desire at this time." " On consideration," said Fitz-Richard, "I would recommend your going by wa- ter. My little barge, with six oars, will take you to Fleet-bridge; the distance from thence to the bishop's palace is so inconsiderable, and so immediately under the eye of the gate guard, that no danger is to be apprehended. I shall, however, take care that you are attended by two of the stoutest and trustiest serving-men in the kingdom." Adeline expressed her satisfaction and thanks at this arrangement ; then turning to the dame, said — " Were you ever in the queen's presence, madam?" " Oh no," replied the dame ; " and with the master's will, not even in an earl's." Adeline faltered in her purpose for a moment, but dashed on — " As the day is so very warm, it will probably be a de- lightful EUSTACE FITZ-RICHARD. 125 lightful evening ; and should it be agree- able to you and mistress Margaret to go on the water, I have no doubt we can all three have an opportunity of paying our respects to the queen when she is taking her evening walk in the bishop's garden." The dame's eyes opened with a blaze of lustre, and a flash of delight pervaded her whole countenance. — " Oh, how enchant- ing ! But is it possible — will not her grace take it amiss, I and my daughter there intruding ourselves ?" " Not at all," replied Adeline ; " the queen holds you and your family in much respect, and will consider your giving me your personal protection, in these trouble- some times, an attention." " My dearest lady Adeline," exclaimed the charmed dame, " how kind, how good you are ! — Oh, how delightful ! — William, my love, don't you think it would be more respectful to lady Adeline that we should go in the great barge? the men have never worn their new liveries." g 3 " Oh 126 EUSTACE TITS-RICHARD. " Oh certainly, my dear, have the best barge, by all means ; I will take care to have it and the men in readiness at the time the lady Adeline may please to ap- point." This was soon arranged, and the worthy alderman, having looked with much gra- titude and kindness on the fair restorer of domestic harmony, withdrew to give the necessary orders. Although it wanted several hours to that of their setting out, dame Fitz-Rich- ard imagined she had a hundred arrange- ments to make relative to her dress ; and although Adeline hinted that, as the in- terview would be in the garden, her or- dinary walking attire would be most suit- able, the dame did not altogether agree with her ; and while Adeline and Marga- ret adjourned to the saloon, she hurried to the serious pleasure of examining hef well-stored wardrobe. They descended the steps through an arched passage in the walls, and were soon seated EUSTACE FITZ-RICHARD. 127 seated in the barge. The sun was far on the decline, and a refreshing breeze played over the smoothly-flowing waters. Ade- line thought of the horrid manner in which the queen's passage up the river had been impeded, and almost feared that some sudden danger might be lurking in the present calm. The dame and Marga- ret helped to dissipate such thoughts by drawing her attention to particular ob- jects. The magnificent crescent formed by the river from the Tower to the palace at Westminster had many features pecu- liarly striking, and happily contrasted: some remains of the mouldering walls of the city, the thickly- clustered houses of wood, and spires of numerous churches, Montfitchet Tower, and the large fortress of Castle Baynard, with the colossal ca- thedral of St. Paul's, were those which, in the city, more immediately caught the eye; further on were the gardens and stately habitation of the Knights of the Temple, the palace of the Savoy, then g 4 that 128 EUSTACE FITZ-HICHARD, that of the Scottish kings, beyond which was the prouder one of the English mo- narchs. This range of palaces, from the river of springs at Montfitchet Tower to Westminster, was intermixed with the less splendid residences of opulent citizens, illustrious nobles, and mitred prelates, whose gardens and orchards, while they partially concealed architectural masses, heightened, with the richness and variety of their foliage, the beauty of the scene. The opposite shore had little to attract the eye; a wide waste of green marsh, on which man had yet bestowed but little labour, leaving it the occasional haunt of the stork and crane, and an occasional prey to the overflowing floods of the river. At Montfitchet Tower the barge was steered into the river of springs, so call- ed from its source in Holborn : this river formed the ditch to the western walls of the city, and was a place of great resort for vessels laden with corn, wine, and wood for fuel : above the bridge at Lud- gate EUSTACE FITZ-RICHARD. 129 gate the left bank of the stream presented a more rural appearance, that of fields and water-mills for grinding corn. At a landing-place near the bridge they quitted the barge, and having passed unob- structed through Ludgate, were soon ad- mitted within the gates of the bishop's pa- lace. In a short space of time Adeline em- braced her friends, to whom she presented the dame and Margaret, in a way which ensured them a polite reception. While lady de Vaux seized the op- portunity of making inquiries of the dame of what was passing in the city at this cri- tical time, Agnes de Clare, with Jane Basset, monopolized Adeline. " We had a gallant cavalier, Adeline, making inquiries for you this morning," said Agnes. Adeline imagined it was Eustace Fitz- Richard to whom Agnes alluded, and co- loured from apprehension, lest her friend should exercise her sarcastic talents in the presence of his mother and sister ; she G 5 therefore ISO EUSTACE FITZ-RICHARD. therefore thought to stop the subject by saying — " He told me so." " Did he ?" exclaimed Agnes ; " that is very strange, when he was employed on such a mighty important affair. I should have thought he could not have found time to pay you a visit — well, what do you think of him? handsome, hey?" " I believe he is well-looking," said the half-vexed Adeline. " You believe ! but then you know he is brave — has performed such valorous ex- ploits, especially the last." Adeline thought of Eustace's relation of his last night's exploit, which had ter- minated by his being made a prisoner in the guard-house, a circumstance which might easily have penetrated the many- eared palace of the bishop, and said, half- laughingly, half-testily — " How absurd !" " Positively the girl is already infected," exclaimed Agnes; *' the city air has de- stroyed all relish for chivalry. — I suppose, Adeline, you would have preferred to have seen EUSTACE FITZ-RICHARD. 131 seen him in all the sober charms of a serge doublet, and shoes sans poulaines, instead of that steel hauberk and spur-armed boots." " Will you never be considerate, Ag- nes ?" said Adeline, fully confirmed in her first impression. " Oh, I see how it is !" said Agnes ; " but we have this comfort, Basset — there will be one rival less at the next tourna- ment." f You are the most intolerable girl in all England!" said Adeline, placing her fingers on Agnes's rosy lips, " and I will not stop to hear another word from you." Then going up to lady de Vaux, she said — " Do you think, madam, the queen will walk in the garden this evening ?" " I expect every moment to hear her going thither," was the reply ; " but if you wish to pay your respects to her grace, I am certain lady de Wilton will admit you into the closet." " Oh no, I will not ask that; I will g 6 take 132 EUSTACE FITZ-RICHAR&. take the opportunity in the garden ; and as I wish to shew my friends those yellow roses of Palestine, I shall be obliged by your permitting us to go thither befor^ the queen commences her walk." Lady de Vaux cheerfully complied with this request, and the whole party im- mediately proceeded to the garden ; and Adeline, avoiding the raillery of Agnes, pointed out to dame Fitz-Richard, as they walked along, the various rare shrubs and flowers with which many a weary palmer had enriched the garden of the episcopal palace. They were stooping over a fra- grant shrub, when Jane Basset softly said — " The queen," and all instantly looking up the walk, observed her grace slowly approaching, with one arm rested on the shoulder of lady de Wilton. The queen immediately observed the presence of strangers, and with a smile regarded Adeline, who receiving the look as an invitation to advance, approached her grace with a light step, and bending low, EUSTACE FITZ-IlICHAItD. 1S3 low, would have knelt; but the queen, extending the arui which had rested on lady de Wilton, raised her, and said — " No, no, my good Adeline, I must kiss that pure forehead; within these sacred bounds you must kneel to none but the blessed Virgin." Having so saluted her, Eleanor continued — " Are those friends of yours, Adeline ?" " They are, madam," she replied ; " and although so recently acquired, I have expe- rienced great kindness from them : they are the wife and daughter of master Wil- liam Fitz-Richard." " Lady de Wilton will not quarrel with you, Adeline," said the queen, smi- ling, " if I make you mistress of the cere- monies on this occasion — that wicked De Clare is watching for a scene — don't mind her; when we have reached the group, bring forward the good dame." The ladies opened to the right and left to give passage to the queen ; and Adeline taking dame Fitz-Richard's hand, whis- pered 134 EUSTACE FITZ-RICHARD. pered a word in her ear ; then repeating her tiame aloud, the dame bent her knee, and was gently raised by the queen, who said — " Your kindness to the lady Ade- line, my good dame Fitz-Richard, is duly appreciated by me, and I feel it an addi- tional motive for that regard which my lord the king, my son prince Edward, and I, entertain for your worthy husband, your- self, and family." Almost overpowered with the delight this gratifying reception gave, dame Fitz- Rlchard could scarcely articulate her sense of the honour done to her and her family; although she very distinctly beg- ged to assure her grace, that the city of London did not contain a more stanchly loyal subject of the king's grace than mas- ter William Fitz-Richard, nor did she feel any qualms of conscience in adding, or herself. The queen, looking at Margaret, who stood blushing, but neither knelt, nor even courtesied, nor indeed thought of what she EUSTACE FITZ-HICHARD. 135 she should do, said — " Your daughter, dame, is a comely child* and I hope will grow up to be as great an honour to our city of London as her mother ;" and good- humouredly patting Margaret's head, pass- ed on. " I am quite happy to see the queen look so charmingly," observed the dame, concealing by the remark from the ladies of the court, the joy, the gratitude, and triumph, which filled her bosom, with as much success as though she had passed all her life in a court. Adeline, happy in the success of her good offices, now observed that the air would be cold on the water, were they to make any longer stay. The dame was quite ready to attend to any suggestion of Adeline, and at once made her parting sa- lutations to the ladies. " Farewell, Adeline !" cried Agnes de Clare ; " I shall dream of nothing but you, frize doublets, and pointless shoes." When they had regained the barge, and 136 EUSTACE FITJZ-mCHARD. and had pushed from the stairs, dame Fitz-Kichard caught Adeline's hand. — se How can I ever shew my sense of all I owe you, my dear lady ? what a charming woman the queen is ! so full of dignity, and yet so easy — I could die for her !" Adeline encouraged the favourable im- pression, aware that in such times the good word of dame Fitz-Richard would be of service to her royal mistress, and not unconscious that the queen herself thought so. But when the dame lapsed into si- lence, no doubt repeating over and over again the gracious words of the queen, Margaret said to Adeline — " Pray, lady Adeline, who was that very beautiful young lady who has such laughing eyes ? and yet I don't think all her lively con- versation quite pleased you." " I cannot mistake your description of my friend Agnes de Clare ; she is sister to the earl of Gloucester." f* : Will she be with her brother at the mask this evening ?" inquired Margaret, either EUSTACE FITZ-RICHARD. 137 either not thinking, or perhaps not sus- pecting, that this was any longer a dan- gerous topic. " Certainly not," Adeline replied; " there will not be one lady of the court there." " And it would be a disgrace to any woman of character to be seen there, when the king is almost a prisoner in the Tower, and the queen in sanctuary," re- marked the dame, warmly, her eyes glan- cing from the Tower before her round to the direction of the palace they were leaving behind. But an object near the latter arrested them, and the dame still kept her head turned over her left shoulder. Adeline followed the direction of the dame's eyes, and her own were also in- stantly caught, for the sun which had dis- appeared in the western horizon, leaving a purple gloom to overspread the lower objects, still threw a bright parting gleam on the golden vane on one of the towers of St. Paul's church ; but it was still only a catching 138 EUSTACE FITZ-RICHARD. a catching beam, for the light air of the evening flew east, flew west, nor allowed the vane to remain a moment stationary. The dame spoke not, nor indeed need she, to have satisfied Adeline of what was passing in her thoughts; for, like most persons of a lively imagination, Adeline generally fancied she knew what people were thinking of, as well by their eyes as by their words, and therefore thought she knew the dame's soliloquy as well as though it had been uttered aloud — " I have changed my mind ; but I am not like yonder foolish bird, puffed about by every idle wind, or wavering from want of any wind at all: no, the two master winds of England have assailed me ; but Leicester's has lost its power, and shall ne- ver more turn me from the king, prince Edward, and the queen I" and she shook her head, as though in contempt of the still-fluttering \oane. They now reached her own landing-place. CHAP- EUSTACE FITZ-RICHAED. 139 CHAPTER V. ******##*#*##*/*#* When Adeline retired for the night, she sat at the open lattice, gazing on the wa- ning moon as it declined to the horizon. In such moments of solitude, the loneli- ness of her destiny would press upon her heart with a saddened weight. While yet an infant, she had become an orphan, and a ward of the crown. Her gallant father, the baron de Melmonby, had fallen in the ill-fated crusade of St. Louis, along with his brave leader and friend, William Longuespe. From that period up to her fifteenth year, she had been permitted to remain under the care of her paternal grand-aunt, in the northern castle of her ancestors ; but when she had attained that age, she had been summoned to the court of Eleanor, and had now, during three 140 EUSTACE FITZ-RICHAUD. three years, attended that princess in all the vicissitudes of her fortune. When the earl of Leicester usurped the govern- ment of the realm, he grasped the ward- ship of many rich minors from the feeble hands of the king; but until no whad seemed content with the possession of Adeline's lands, leaving her person in the care of the queen. That he had now re- moved her from the kind guardianship of her highness was a source of real afflic- tion to Adeline, which was greatly height- ened by her apprehensions of the motives which influenced the earl. While she yet mused, the measured strokes of oars, breaking on the stillness of night, arrested her attention. She looked attentively on the river, but could not perceive any vessel in the direction the sounds came from ; but as they seemed quite near, she concluded that the vessel must be immediately under, and concealed by the wall. In a few moments the dash- ing of the oars ceased, and the sound as of EUSTACE FITZ-RICHARD. Ml of a vessel rubbing against a pier suc- ceeded, and the low muttering of voices struck on the ears of Adeline, whose breast thrilled with alarm, which her bet- ter reason vainly attempted to allay. This was heightened when, in a few seconds, she heard the grating of a key in the lock of the garden door. A man entered, fol- lowed by a second, and in a few minutes there were more than twenty men walk- ing in silence, and with stealthy steps, a- cross the garden to the house. Adeline's terrors increased. She had heard of the nightly attacks made by the lawless mob on the houses of the rich citi- zens, but it was not thus she had under- stood they were made. To alarm the family was the first impulse, but the next moment she considered that, from having possession of a garden key, they might be persons employed in some secret purpose by Fitz-Richard, and if correct in this supposition, she might, however good her intentions, appear in the invidious light of 14 " My dear Margaret, you are not com- ing, and those men are still there ;" and Adeline caught up her bag of silk, and had one foot on the terrace when the tones of a lute arrested her steps. She was concealed by the pillars of the door from the view of the persons in the boat, and Margaret was also unseen, standing just within the entrance. " How beautifully he plays !" Margaret softly uttered. * He does," said Adeline, in the same under tone : " I cannot mistake the touch." "Ah, EUSTACE FITS-RICHARD. 205 " Ah, then it is he with the embroi- dered cloak! Well, at all events, the other is the taller and finer figure. Hark ! he sings ! Oh, how soft ! how tender !" And Adeline recognised in the voice, as in the touch, lord Emeric. The sen- timents were touching ; they alluded to his grief at her absence from the court, to which she had been the sole attraction to him ever to return, and whispered the dread that he who governed an empire would wield his power over her to the destruction of his own long-cherished hopes. The chords of the lute now vi- brated to a more impassioned strain, and his voice, in unison, uttered the ardent vow, that would she but accept him as her knight, the force of an opposing world should not triumph, and she had but to say, " I accept you as my slave," to be free as the air of heaven. " Oh, lady Adeline, to be so beloved, and to look so indifferent ! but what kind of 206 EUSTACE FITZ-RICHARD. of man is he? Pardon me, dearest lady- Adeline, is he really very ugly?" " I was not aware that I had said any thing of his looks," Adeline smilingly re- plied; " but I will, nevertheless, answer you as though I had introduced the sub- ject. He is very handsome — that is, the character of his face is strikingly so, and he has the finest eyes in the world." " Oh, charming !" exclaimed Margaret, and Adeline continued — " His figure is good, and he is admirable in every noble and gallant accomplishment, from the wielding of a lance to the penning of a sonnet — from the managing of a war-horse to the leading of a measure." " What an enchanting man ! — But I crave your pardon, lady Adeline — how can such a man not be beloved ? and yet you laugh. How can he be unhappy in his love ?" " In five words your question shall be answered — -he has not a heart." "Not EUSTACE FITZ-RICHARD. 207 " Not a heart ! he who sang that sonnet not have a heart !" " Thou art a child, Margaret," said Adeline, gently tapping her on the cheek, " who have not, like me, lived three whole years in a royal court, and seen and heard all manner of looks and words ; had you, you might have come to the conclusion, that men have hearts as they have heads : a true heart is as seldom to be met with as a wise head. There are plenty of pre- tenders to both ; and those who have most pretensions to the latter know, that to appear to have a vast deal of feeling is a pretty certain way of stealing the good opinion of the weak and purblind. Now this lord Emeric, having a tolerably sa- pient skull, pretends to have a heart, as well as a head, and sings of — nay, even weeps over his feelings, as though they consisted in any thing but an immeasur- able love of himself." " Ah, dearest lady, are you not too severe ?" "Not 208 EUSTACE FITZ-RICHARD. u Not a whit. But if we remain here, we shall be supposed to be listening to them ; so let us brave the terrace, and re- tire into the house." Margaret accompanied Adeline, and although very loth, abstained from giving one glance at the boat ; but they had no sooner reached the saloon than she flew to the window, and from thence, herself un- seen, beheld the boat gently gliding along, and again returning to the same place. — " I am, no doubt, wrong in wishing it, lady Adeline, but I should have been so happy to have heard that charming voice again." " It is a dangerous one to listen to," said Adeline ; " many have had bitter cause to rue the willing ear they have given it." " But there could be no danger in lis- tening to a. sonnet," said Margaret. " There might, if you thought the per- son who sang it had composed it in your own praise, and expressive of his own feelings ; EUSTACE FITZ-RICHARD. 209 feelings ; you might, in a little time, fancy an exception in your own favour, and that the fickle Troubadour really loved you." " Oh, how delightful !" exclaimed Mar- garet. Adeline was surprised at this expres- sion, which betrayed a liability to being deceived, that made her fear for Margaret's peace, should accident introduce to her one who would triumph in her delusion. Lord Emeric's serenade had not sur- prised Adeline, since it was in unison with his assumed character, although she regretted that he should thus persevere in making her the object of his gallantries, which, although they had sometimes amused, had, previous to his last going to France, become, by his earnestness, dis- tressing to her. She had ever been con- sistent in declining his love, when he had availed himself of casual opportunities, unseen by others, of expressing it at her feet ; but she could not avoid hearing its repetition in a thousand ways, by which he 210 EUSTACE FITZ-HICHARD. he made known to her that she was the mistress of his heart, and that to her ser- vice he had devoted himself. But al- though he had made her sensible of this, it was not so to the ladies of the court ; they were accustomed to his praises of the unknown Amarantha, the name by which he distinguished Adeline, who was al- luded to in every sonnet; but such had been his skilful management that Adeline had only shared with others the court's conjecture of being the mistress whom he professed to worship. When Adeline entered the supper, room, there were assembled, besides the family, Fitz-Harding, and two other guests. Dame Fitz-Bichard looked with much significancy and archness, but seem- ed resolved not to betray the gallantry she had from a window witnessed. Eus- tace had only arrived a few moments be- fore, and Margaret soon observed that an air of more than usual animation sparkled in his countenance ; but he only laughed at EUSTACE FITZ-RICHARD. 211 at her question of what occupied his thoughts, and the supper passed over with the usual topics, and it was not until a question of Fitz-Harding's drew some ex- planation from Eustace, who said — " I am thinking of the pleasure of to-morrow's march." " Against the frogs and cranes of Sur- rey, Eustace?" " No, mistress Meg, but against their devourers, the French knights in Wind- sor Castle." " Ah ! what do you say, Eustace ?" in- quired his father. " Nothing more, sir, than that we are under orders to march, at break of day, for Windsor Castle, there to besiege prince Edward." " And are you determined on being both so undutiful and disloyal," said the dame, " as to fight against the prince ?" " You formerly highly approved of my taking up arms, and wrung from my fa- ther a reluctant promise, that he would not 212 EUSTACE FITZ-RICHARD. not interfere with my conduct in the civil war by any exercise of his authority ; I therefore hope I am free from any charge of undutifulness ; and as to that of disloy- alty, I shall serve under the king's gene- ral, the earl of Leicester, who has his grace's commands to crush the last spark of rebellion, by the capture of the prince and his foreign auxiliaries." * Mercy on us ! then is the prince a rebel ?" exclaimed the dame. " Oh, how I do hate politics ! they do so change the name and character of things, that plain, honest people can never tell whether they are right or wrong. — But will you, Eus- tace, have actually to fight? will there really be a battle ?" " I hope so ; and certainly we can have none of those unpleasant feelings, in tilt- ing with these French knights, that we should have were it Englishman against Englishman." " But prince Edward," said his father. * As to the prince, I hope he will con- tent EUSTACE FITZ-RICHARD. 218 tent himself with commanding within the castle, and not head any of the sallies." " There cannot be the least doubt you most ardently pray it may be so, my dear brother," Margaret gravely said; " for al- though I have little doubt you would win the race to old king Lud's gate, I much doubt your inclination to wear the crown your grateful fellow-citizens would re- ward you with." u No, Meg, I shall never strive for it, as you do for that matrimonial one which one of our poltroon citizens, as you seem to think them, is to give you." " I would rather live and die a nun than be the wife of a citizen !" exclaimed Margaret. Every one at table started and looked at Margaret, and then every eye fell on Adeline. She felt those glances. They seemed to say — " Have you instilled this contempt of her own rank into the mind of the youthful Margaret?" But Ade- line was conscious of her freedom from all 214 EUSTACE FITZ-RICHARD. all blame, and therefore appeared not to notice those looks of secret disapprobation ; but she was grieved to think that the gal- lantry of lord Emeric, although it could not be supposed by Margaret to have any relation to herself, should have had such an effect on her imagination, for to that circumstance alone she attributed this re- volution in her mind. The supposition, that to Adeline was attributable these estranged thoughts of Margaret, prevented any one from farther pressing the subject ; but master Fitz-Rlchard looked as though he would take an early opportunity of speaking on it to his daughter. Fitz-Harding broke the silence, which had become embarrassing, by observing, that it was not probable the prince would attempt to maintain the war unsupported by any of the great barons, and that he would only hold out until he could nego- ciate honourable terms for those French knights who had accompanied him into England. "Of EUSTACE FITZ-RICHARD. 215 " Of all the anomalous circumstances in these civil broils," observed Fitz-Rich- ard, " none appears more so, than that the avowed object is to banish foreigners from the king's council and government; and yet the very person who heads the popu- lar party is himself a foreigner, and is daily bringing over foreign knights, and giving to them the castles and estates he wrests from the loyal subjects of the king." " Nothing more clearly shews," added Fitz-Harding, " the gullibility of the people, who can thus swallow any pill a specious state quack prepares for them; and that we may the better digest it, master Simon has brought over his chief rhymer, to make our chains jingle har- moniously. I met him, the famous lord Emeric, as I came down the river. I had heard pleasant music before our boats met, and as they passed, recognised the Provencal Troubadour. A murrain on these poets and musicians ! they do more mischief in a city than ten thousand hos- tile men at arms." "How 216 EUSTACE FITZ-RICHARD. " How can you say so of those most enchanting of all the creatures on earth ?" said the dame. " It is of their enchantment I complain," replied the captain. " In peace they win the hearts of our women, and enervate the spirits of our men." " But in war," said Eustace, " what exalts the soldier more than the heroic song of the bard, and the martial strains of the trumpet and drum ?" ** They mislead his judgment," replied Fitz-Harding : " he thinks and fights like a man under the influence of wine. I would have no excitement but the good- ness of my cause." * But the people at large cannot think," said Eustace. " There is my own troop, for instance, a hundred of as fine men as any in the London army, and I will give ten marks a-head for every one of them that can give a clear reason, beyond having been told to do so, why he took up arms against the king." "You EUSTACE FITZ-RICHARD. 217 *' You are supporting my argument," said Fitz-Harding. " These machines, into whose hands arms have been put, are set in motion by a state quack ; and that they may be made to move in a sprightly manner, he hires rhymsters to make drink- ing songs of love, wine, and war, and boys to thump parchment, and split their cheeks with blowing whistles and trumpets to give them courage after the night's debauch." !* You have become quite cynical," said the dame ; " I should be afraid your hav- ing been so long on shore has brought on an attack of gout." " No, no, dame, my timbers are all sound," replied Fitz-Harding, laughing ; " and I don't care how soon a French war may prove it in the Channel." " And pray, captain," asked Eustace, " what good reason can you assign for wishing a French war ?" " A good reason ! That is a jest in- deed," replied the sailor. " Why, are not the French our natural enemies ?" tol. i. l " Natural 218 EUSTACE FITZ-RICHARD. " Natural enemies! I don't under- stand you." " And yet look as sly as though you thought you had trapped an old fox," re- turned the captain. " Natural enemies ! ay, natural enemies ! Let me see. — Yes, I have it — was not Philip Auguste so jealous of our glorious Richard Cceur de Lion, that he not only ruined that cru- sade, but nearly England to boot ? Did not, in the last reign, the French dauphin almost make himself a king in England ? What more do you want ? I say it, and I will maintain it sword in hand, that the French are our natural enemies; and I shall not sleep in my grave until we have crowned at Rheims an English prince king of France." u Then, that you may have a quiet rest, I had better at once set off to com- mence war with the French at Windsor," said Eustace, rising, and quaffing a part- ing cup, was about to withdraw, when his father stopped him, saying — " Nay, my boy, EUSTACE FITZ-RICHARD. 219 boy, you may give us your company for another turn of the hourglass. I hope it may not be the last." " The Virgin save us ! Do you think there is any very great danger ?" the dame anxiously inquired, addressing Fitz-Hard- ing. " Why, dame, as to danger," he re- plied, " these French gallants are better with lance and sword on the greensward, than with cutlass and boarding-pike in a rough sea; but then the odds, in point of numbers, will be a hundred to one against them, so that I should think Eustace in little danger; unless the barons have a mind for a little sport at the ex pence of the city, by placing their soldiers in the brunt of a sally, for the French knights to spit, as their cooks do frogs." " You join with the jesters at our ex- pence," said Eustace to the captain ; " but I trow there are some city lads will not be so easily spitted." " If I thought you would not lose it," said Margaret, enjoying her brother's evi- l 2 dent 220 EUSTACE FITZ-RICHARB. dent pique, * I would give you a beauti* ful cointise, on which I have embroidered a very pretty device ; but then you must promise not to let it be carried off in tri- umph by a French cavalier." " I will not wear the scarf of one," re- plied her brother, " who despises the ban- ner under which I fight; but that you may not break your heart, child, at your favour not being worn before Windsor Castle, you must know that I have sworn not to wear one until I have performed some action which may place me on a footing in the field of war with these malapert knights of France, and our own imperious nobles." " I am afraid the demon Ambition has infected you," said Fitz- Richard ; " it is one of the evil consequences of the times ; all I hope is, that it will not end in your ruin." "It were better to die in the field," said Eustace, warmly, " than to possess wealth without the power of enjoying it." " Have we not the power of enjoying it in the city ?" his father asked. "Not EUSTACE FITZ-RICHARD. 221 " Not to my taste," replied Eustace; '* and I own I cannot but repine, that when I owe so much to Fortune, that that is withheld which would give the highest zest to her favours." " What do you want?" asked Fitz- Harding, from a wish to make him fully declare himself. " That which my father's wealth, and those limbs of mine," he gaily replied, "naturally entitle me to, but which my rank in life debars me from — a place of honour- able competitorship in the lists of chivalry." " Not altogether," observed Fitz-Hard- ing; " you have wealth, education, and respectable birth. Hundreds of adven- turers, without one of these advantages, have arisen from the very dregs of the people to high honour and estate. Fawkes de Br^ante for instance." " I thank you for the hint," said Eus- tace ; " I mistook the plan — I thought of jousts and tournaments as a commence- ment; but I now see that I must first l 3 make $t& EUSTACE FITZ-RICHARD. make myself terrible, and then the world will give that place from fear which pride would fain withhold." " But how happens it, Eustace," in- quired his father, H that you, who always ridiculed the fopperies of our young no- bility, seem on the sudden so distressed that you are not one of them yourself?" Eustace coloured high, and for a mo- ment his eyes were cast down ; but im- mediately, with assumed carelessness, said — " I think as lightly of their folly as ever, but their station in the world gives them advantages 1 have learned to covet But here am I loitering, who have to march an hour before day. I must look to my arms and horses." Dame Fitz-Richard's newly-awakened fears for her son's safety had given a graver expression to her usually cheerful counte- nance ; and requesting that Adeline would not leave the table, hastened after Eus- tace ; but Adeline wished to retire, and accompanied by Margaret, withdrew. When EUSTACE FITZ-RICHARD. 223 When they were -in her own chamber, Adeline's thoughts reverted to lord Eme- ric, and his renewal of his former gallan- tries ; but they were mixed with curi- osity to know who the cavalier was that had accompanied him, for once, as he looked up, she thought she distinguished a countenance not wholly unknown to her; and although, from the distance and briefness of the glance, she could but have a vague impression of its familiarity, she could not get rid of the notion that she had been formerly acquainted with it; and whenever her thoughts recurred to Emeric, they were divided by a desire to know who the Troubadour had made the companion of his gallantry, until this desire became so strong, that its absurdity struck her, and with somewhat of a vexed air she said aloud — " What matters it who he is ?" " Whom, lady Adeline ?" said Marga- ret, who had been silently watching her expressive countenance, while Adeline had forgotten that she was not alone ; she l 4 however 224 EUSTACE FITZ-RICHARD. however replied — " Why the man who held the tiller — did you see his face, Mar- garet ?" " No, and he did not sing ; but lord Emeric — oh what a voice he has !" " Go to bed, child, and don't dream of such nonsense." " Good night, lady Adeline ! I shall now go and see if I can be of any use to my brother; it will be time enough for me to go to bed when he has marched for Windsor — poor fellow ! I dearly love him, though he does tease me ; but, thank the Virgin ! I have my revenge." " Good night, Margaret! I hope no harm will befall your brother." " I will tell him your kind wish — it will make him so happy." These words confirmed a suspicion in Adeline's mind, to which several previous circumstances had given birth, but she had determined on avoiding appearing to have noticed that which had been only vaguely betrayed. CHAP- EUSTACE FITZ-RICHARD. 225 CHAPTER VII. r ++■ ***■ *-r *■*■ ■*+ *■*■ +* On the following morning she heard that Eustace had marched with his troop of city horse in a strong division from the confederated army, under the command of Leicester, which was expected to encamp ere night-fall before the towers of Windsor. This absence of the earl from Westmin- ster would have tempted Adeline to pay her friends at the palace a visit, had not the probability of meeting lord Emeric deterred her. She concluded he would not have accompanied the army to Wind- sor, as that step might have been deemed ungracious to the French knights who were shut up in it with the prince, and was also uncalled for, as his established profession of a Troubadour exempted him l 5 from 226 EUSTACE FITZ-RICHAKD. from being called on for military services, although he had freely drawn his sword when occasion demanded it, and had been distinguished in the field of battle, as also in the listed tourney. Adeline was fully aware, that were she, uninvited, to appear at Westminster so immediately after lord Emeric's serenade, his vanity might prompt him to believe that he was the attracting star ; nor could she be certain, were his aquatic excursion known, that those of the court who repined at his neglect would not blazon it to the world. Under these impressions, she felt constrained to post- pone a gratification she eagerly desired, and with some distaste looked forward to a succession of days being passed in the limited circle of master Fitz-Bichard's house, to which its inmates still considered it prudent to confine themselves, to avoid the insults of the populace. When Adeline and Margaret were seat- ed in the tower in the evening, they so arranged EUSTACE FITZ-RICHARD. 227 arranged the blinds as not to interrupt their own view, while they themselves were screened from the observation of per- sons passing along the river ; but to the great disappointment of Margaret, lord Emeric appeared not, and she uttered a hundred conjectures, whether he was charming the ladies of the palace with his delightful voice, or carousing with the ba- rons before the towers of Windsor. Thus, without any incident, several days passed away, until at length tidings came that, without the castle having been assaulted, the prince had agreed to the terms of peace which his father had enter- ed into with the barons ; and having sti- pulated for a safe conduct to Dover for his hundred French knights, had surrendered Windsor to lord Leicester, and then set out for Westminster. On the evening of the ensuing day Eustace arrived, and every one noticed the elated air which animated his mien and countenance, so different from the l 6 forced 228 EUSTACE FITZ-RICHARD. forced gaiety which had been latterly no- ticed. "It is very evident," said Margaret, after an affectionate embrace, " that your bones have been in no danger. It was truly very shabby conduct of the prince and his dancing knights not to have tried the fleetness of your steeds; had they known you as well as we of the city do, they would have sounded a score of trum- pets, and brandished as many lances; and, heigh presto! every face would have been turned eastward — then mercy on all the poor market folks, who would have been tumbled into the ditches, as you galloped for shelter within the city walls." " Thank Heaven, Meg, you are so pro- lix, that I have had time to recover my breath ; one sharp sentence might have been as fatal to my character as a well-di- rected lance to my body ; but you have come forward with such a battery of point- less arrows, that I am more stunned than wounded. Now I have heard before the towers EUSTACE FITZ-RICHARD. 229 towers of Windsor so many witty things about city dames and misses, that I could drive you mad within the first half-hour, and see you fairly drowning yourself in the Thames in the next." " You barbarous wretch ! but it cannot be true ; you would never have stood by, and heard us satirized, without resenting the insult." " Don't be too certain of that, Meg : it is true I neither joined in, nor altogether relished their roguish jests ; but then their wit was often so well aimed, that I should have been a dolt to have thrown my car- case between its object and their shafts." " So then, instead of fighting, you have been amusing yourself as you would at a tavern on a market day." " How vulgar! why, Meg, you will make me quite ashamed of you ! market day, and market folks ! what plebeian as- sociations ! lady Adeline will tell you the elegant manner in which court ladies ex- press themselves : as to myself, I am now under 230 EUSTACE FITZ-RICHARD. under the hands of the most accomplished master in Europe ; he has promised to make me a finished gentleman in six months." " That is," said Margaret, " he will fi- nish Eustace Fitz-Richard in that time. — But who is this master of gentlemanly perfections ? is it he that taught the large ape from Barbary to manage a lady's pal- frey, and trip it in a Moorish dance, to the amazement of all beholders ?" " No, madcap ; but the master of wit and song, of the ring and the dance, of — — but you shall judge for yourself; I have invited him, and some half dozen more, to sup with us on Monday; but perhaps you will prefer a city party— if so, engage thyself out, or hide thyself in a nunnery, for there will be not only the master of the apes, but some of his most promising pupils." " A truce ! a truce, good brother ! for certainly there is some spark of kindness in you for the distressed damsels of our fa- ther's EUSTACE FITZ-RICHARD. 231 ther's house: but now, like a good crea- ture, do tell us all about this bloodless siege, and how you became acquainted with these same gallants." " Veritably there was nothing in the fighting way ; but then there was all the pomp of heralds, and marshalling of hosts, and councils of war, while those of younger blood bestrode all day their prancing steeds, and jested, gamed, and drank all night; and although my Andalusian horse did not win the race to king Lud's gate, he gained me the best company in the army." " How so, dear brother ?" " It happened on the second day, seve- ral of the knights were tilting, and so were squires, and also some of us lads of the city ; it was in an open part of the fo- rest, without the range of missiles from the castle, but within view of its garrison : my noble Andalusian soon attracted many of our knightly allies to that part of the field in which we were exercising : I had just 23£ EUSTACE FITZ-RICHARD* just ran at the ring, and carried it on my lance, when a saucy groom came up and said — c Master captain, my lord will buy your horse — what price do you ask?' I broke the varlet's head with the but-end of my lance, and then threw him a piece of gold, accompanied with the informa- tion, that the blow was for the sender of the message, the gold to heal its bearer's hurt. A murmur and bustle passed along the string of knights, hands were laid on swords, and lances fixed in rest ; nor were our bucks of the city backward, when they knew for what I had struck the varlet down, but at once galloping up to me, fixed their lances, and cried—* A Fitz-Richard ! a Fitz-Richard !' but as ill or good luck would have it, a marshal of the camp was present, and riding into the midst, trun- cheon in hand, stayed all further proceed- ings, and commanded all parties to retire to their respective tents. Am I not an apt scholar under my French master, thus to talk, and so unblushingly, of myself?" " Oh, EUSTACE FITZ-RICHARD. 233 " Oh, he is a Frenchman, is he ? it can- not be ! is it ?" " Whom, mistress Meg ? but you have never seen my master ; he has not been ten days in England." " That certainly confirms the impossi- bility of its being he," said Margaret, with a peculiar expression : " but you told us your horse had introduced you to such good company, and now it seems it was like one of your city scrapes, to be de- cided by some man in office." " A merry scene, my girl, often ends in a sad one ; and we sometimes commence in sorrow, and end in joy. I was neither merry nor sad, but as I had thrown down the gauntlet, I had a right to expect the thrust of a lance ; but as my good or evil genius would have it, the next day, when we were amusing ourselves with similar exercises, several knights again came up, and when I happened to be near them after a joust with one of our gallants, a knight rode up, and addressed me in the most 234 EUSTACE FITZ-RICHARD. most courteous manner, and said, that the ill-mannered conduct of a varlet of the earl of Gloucester had given much offence to his lordship, and all the knights that were present ; and that no authority what- ever had been given the groom to ask the price of the horse, or any question what- ever ; but that he had acted of his own churlish notion, on hearing the earl highly praise the steed. I was satisfied, and felt obliged by the courtesy which had dic- tated this explanation ; and in a few mi- nutes was surrounded by, and introduced to, some of the most gallant spirits in the realm." " And was the master of the apes one of the number?" inquired Margaret. " One more saucy question," replied Eustace, " and you shall not see the brightest star of the camp or the court." " Once more I cry quarter !" said Mar- garet : " but do answer me one question ; does he compose the sonnets he sings, and has he much skill on the harp, or lute ?" Eustace EUSTACE FITZ-RICHARD. 235 Eustace looked at his sister, and for a moment glanced at Adeline; and then with an air that partook of constrained gaiety and indifference, said — * I shall answer no more questions — it will not be an age to Monday ; you can then satisfy your curiosity." Monday, which had been so anxiously looked forward to by Margaret, at length arrived ; nor had Adeline been insensible to its approach, but from very different feelings. She had gathered from several allusions of Eustace, that lord Emeric was the guest he had more particularly spoken of; and she apprehended that he had es- tablished an acquaintance with Eustace, with the view of obtaining an introduc- tion to the house she now resided in, Not that Adeline apprehended any thing se- rious from his gallantries, but she felt that although they might be harmless, and scarcely noticed while at court, they would now be too remarkable to be consistent with propriety ; yet to start any objection, or 236 EUSTACE FITZ-RICHARD. or evince dissatisfaction, might expose her to the sarcasms of wounded vanity, which from previous observation she knew was rather to be shunned than braved towards lord Emeric, who never failed to over- whelm with his wit and ridicule those who rashly defied his power. Eustace had undertaken the entire ar- rangement of the evening's entertainment, and had been careful in his selection of that portion of the company which was from amongst the citizens. He wished to erase some prejudices from the minds of his new acquaintance ; but it never oc- curred to him, that by introducing some of the most accomplished cavaliers in Eng- land into his domestic circle, he might, by his own act, not only assist in demolishing those enchanting visions which had began to float on his mind, but prepare the way for the destruction of those he truly loved. He had been so delighted and flattered by the civilities he had experienced in the camp before Windsor, where his accidental introduction EUSTACE FITZ-RICHARD. 237 introduction had been followed by close habits of companionship with several young men of high rank, that on a hint being dropped that it would be considered agree- able, he had promptly given the invitation desired. The sun was yet high in the western heavens, when the company began to as- semble in the room which commanded a view of the river ; and ere long, those who were near the window observed the arrival of Eustace and his new acquaintance, whom he had conducted in his father's state barge. While they were yet con- versing in the garden, Adeline recognised lord Emeric and Thomas de Clare, the brother of the earl of Gloucester. There w T ere five others, but they were personally unknown to her, although she for a mo- ment fancied that one of noble mien was he who had been the troubadour's compa- nion in the boat ; but now she did not, as then, imagine she beheld one whom she knew ; and yet there was a character in his 238 EUSTACE FITJZ-UICHARD. his countenance, which struck her as being one she had, in times past, been familiar with. Margaret was close at the side of Ade- line, and with a countenance sparkling with animation, said — " It is lord Emeric ! I was certain it could be none but he !" " Do you think him so very like a leader and teacher of apes ?" asked Ade- line. " Oh fie, lady Adeline ! I would not for the world that nonsense of mine should reach his ears." " Well, but now that you see him to the very best advantage, as far as a three hours' toilet can set him off, what do you think of him ?" " Oh, it is not his person I ever thought of," Margaret replied, " although that is very good — not perhaps so fine as some others near him, particularly he in the dark green and gold ; what a figure and turn of head that man has ! I am sure it must be prince Edward." Adeline EUSTACE FITZ-RICHARD. 239 Adeline smiled at the simplicity of the remark, while she inwardly admitted that the person alluded to, and who was the same that had previously arrested her notice, was indeed of as noble a presence as the prince, whom the nation had ac- knowledged to be as preeminent in per- son as in intellect and martial prowess. ft Do you observe that beautiful, fair- haired boy, who carries a lute ?" said Mar- garet. " Yes — he is a page of lord Emeric's," replied Adeline ; " and that little urchin has more mischief in him, with all his simple looks, than it would be prudent to run in danger of: beware of receiving messages, or billets, from him ; and don't believe him, should he swear he has only found the scroll, and not being able him- self to read, would thank you to decipher it, that he may learn to whom it should be restored ; believe me, there is no art he will leave unassayed, to gain any point his lord commands." «He 240 EUSTACE FITZ-RICHARD. " He must be very clever — I do like a clever boy." " I begin to think, Margaret, you like every think that is dangerous." P. Oh no, I am frightened to death at danger — but wit and smiling looks, oh they are so charming !" " Wit masketh treachery, and smiles a deceitful heart." " They are coming into the house : a thousand pardons, lady Adeline — may I beg of you to tell me if my hair is in the same order you commended so highly ?" Eustace presented his company to the dame, and the next moment lord Emeric approached Adeline.—-" Once more I am the happiest of men! I shall no longer anathematize Montfort for having removed you from court, since he has placed you in a bower I can ever haunt." * Did your lordship leave the count and countess of Provence in good health?" "Ever the same cruel being ! When I would speak of my heart, you would ad- mire EUSTACE FITZ-RICHARD. 241 mire the fashion of my tunic! I will enter into the spirit of your humour, and when you say it is of a good colour, shall conceive you mean that it covers an ami- able heart." " But it is of the most odious colour and form I ever beheld." " I have too high an opinion of your taste to believe otherwise than the reverse of your words." " And so compliment my taste at the expence of my sincerity." " The most pardonable of all offences, since your sex think it necessary to ex- clude sincerity from their circle of virtues." " We merely do not express all the re- pugnances we feel — were we to do so, our sincerity would be construed into ill man- ners." " And you fear your prepossessions would be deemed too flattering to our worthless race ! Ah, Amarantha ! let me whisper that beloved name ! — let no profane ear learn to whom it belongs. vol. i. m Will 242 EUSTACE FITZ-RICHARD. Will my Amarantha be ever thus cold — thus indifferent ?" " Should she relent, it would put her Troubadour to the immense trouble of searching for another mistress." " Auspicious words ! Then my con- stancy is doubted ! On my knees I could worship thee for that delicious doubt !" " There can be no question it would en- hance your felicity to think you gave pain to the object of your devoirs." " No ; but it would assure me that I had ceased to be the object of her indif- ference ; I should love the divine Ama- l^ntha did she hate me — I should love her were her heart another's, so that she but feared me — I should idolize her were her love all my own ; but were she to look on me with cold indifference, I should hate myself." " A by no means surprising result, con- sidering the intensity with which the ob- ject is contemplated." " Ah ! then you think me vain — ac- know- EUSTACE FITZ-RICHARD. 243 knowledged : I cannot be otherwise, when I aspire to the chief place in the heart of Amarantha: but should that divine creature become all my own, my vanity will have a nobler object ; she will be the pearl to whom all knees shall bow, all hearts worship : and I, wearing the gem in my bosom, receive their lordly homage." " Baubles are chiefly valued," said Ade- line, " for their rarity, and the envy their possession consequently excites in little minds, not for their intrinsic worth." " Such no doubt may gratify our lighter thoughts, and it was of vanity I spoke : our deeper feelings require relief; for were the intenser passions to have an uninte- rupted existence, we should become furi- ous madmen." " Lord Emeric always reasons too well for us to apprehend madness in him." . " None reason so subtly as those who are on the verge of insanity ; the partition between the highest powers of the mind, and the chaos in which reason is over- M 2 whelmed, 244 EUSTACE FITZ-RICHATtD. whelmed, is of so slight a texture, that it requires but one blow from an unkind, though beloved hand, to make frightful waste of all that was before so fair and lovely." Lord Emeric's voice faltered as he spoke, and Adeline felt a difficulty in replying, which was happily relieved by Thomas de Clare's approaching, who said, bowing to Adeline — " I think I heard the name of Amarantha from the lips of Eme- ric : he has absolutely pestered us all so with this invisible goddess, that were she really to appear, I believe she would be voted a demon, though fair as an angel." " Creatures of the imagination, my lord," said Adeline, "have such various attributes, that it is not difficult to conceive that both extremes may meet in this mystical being." " Does lady Adeline really think the evil principle is to be found in Amarantha's breast ?" said Emeric, his dark eye fixed full on her countenance. Adeline slightly coloured, and replied — " No one would waste a thought on a poetical, EUSTACE FITZ-RICHARD. 245 poetical, not a real personage. — But, my lord Thomas, how is my Agnes? I wish she were here !" " I saw her at noon, and told her where I was to pass the evening, and never did the madcap change her mind so often in half-an-hour before. Twenty times she desired that I would obtain an invitation for her, and as often vowed revenge on those who had neglected to procure one, and then said nothing should again tempt her to put her foot within Lud's gate." At this moment they were requested to adjourn to the garden, to witness a slight dramatic representation. Adeline rose and gave her hand to Tho- mas de Clare; lord Emeric's countenance became flushed with vexation, and turned to Margaret, who had hitherto sat at the side of Adeline, a silent, but deeply atten- tive observer of every word, look, and ac- tion. Having presented his hand to her, the delighted Margaret's trembled as her taper fingers touched the palm of his M 3 glove. 246 EUSTACE FXT2-RICHARD. glove. Lord Emeric felt the tremulous touch, and now, almost for the first time, turned liis eyes with observation on the blushing girl. She possessed neither the elegance, the dignity, nor the high order of beauty, which commanded and fasci- nated in Adeline ; yet she was a lovely girl, with a light and graceful form, a bloom- ing complexion, dark expressive eyes, and rosy lips, that one moment pouted with feeling, and the next laughed with all the joy of a gay and innocent heart. Lord Emeric still stood contemplating her ; and as he moved not, Margaret raised her eyes, and they met the soul-thrilling expression which beauty ever excited in his glance. Hers instantly fell, and a deeper blush glowed in her cheeks. He spoke not, but gently conducted her along ; and, when they had reached the terrace, took a seat next her, glancing to Adeline, who sat at a short distance, between dame Fitz-Richard and Thomas de Clare. At this period there were neither re- gular EUSTACE FITZ-RICHARD. 247 gular theatres nor performers of the drama in England, nor even any of the itinerant sons and daughters of Thespis. But sacred dramas had been written by monks, those sole cultivators of literature in the middle ages ; and they were occasionally enacted by the lay members of monasteries, by the scholars of the great schools, and by the apprentices and others of cities. Of the latter class Eustace had engaged the ser- vices of the most esteemed performers of the city, and who were to enact a short drama, founded on an historical passage of holy writ, that great store from whence the Monkish dramatists drew their charac- ters and plots, excepting when they made a modern saint and martyr the hero of the scene. The great promise of settled weather had induced Eustace, to whom the ma- nagement of the whole entertainment had been left, to have the play in the open air. With this view, seats for the audience were formed along the terrace, and down M 4 from 248 EUSTACE FITZ-RICHAUD. from it to the level of the garden. The front of the house was hung with various hangings, and the space immediately in the centre was covered with a scene repre- senting a plain with tents, and bounded in the distance by a range of mountains. Be- sides this scenic representation of tents, there was on each side of the garden a tent erected, which formed the side wings of the stage. The scene represented the plain of Zaa- naim, with the tents of the house of He- ber the Kenite. The tent on the right hand of the stage was that of Heber, the one on the left that of Jael his wife. When the company were all seated, pastoral music was heard approaching, and the sons of Heber, attired as herds and shepherds, advanced, and sang a cho- rus, in praise of their mode of life. This terminated, Heber entered, with an im- patient air, upbraiding them with delay, at a moment when the mighty of the earth threatened their pastures with hos- tile EUSTACE FITZ-RICHARD. 249 tile armies, reminding them that Sisera, captain of Jabin, king of Hazor, was now besieging, on Mount Tabor, the army of the children of Israel, under Deborah the judge, and Barak, the son of Abinoam, and warned his sons that they should lead their herds to pasture, far from the routed army of either host. The sons of Heber retired, and Jael entered from her tent ; her manner was as of one troubled in thought, and when ac- costed by Heber, she looked for a mo- ment wildly on him, then grasping his arm, said with rapidity, and frantic vio- lence — " The host of Sisera shall be dis- comfited, and Israel be freed from the yoke of the king of Hazor. I dreamed a dream, and behold I stood before Debo- rah, as she sat beneath the wide-spreading branches of a palm-tree, where she judgeth the people of Israel, and Deborah said — 1 Of a surety the Lord will give the army of Jabin into the hands of the children of Israel; but Sisera, the captain of Hazor, m 5 will 250 EUSTACE EITZ-RICHARD, will h£ not give into the hands of Barak, but into the hands of a woman ; for Barak would not fight without me — Deborah : and not into my hands, but into thy hands, oh Jael, wife of the torn branch of the house of Jacob, Heber the Kenite!' — I awoke, and lo ! the sun had arisen, and I heard the sound of warring hosts, as the sighings of the trees of the forest beneath the fierce sirocco." To her Heber said — M Disturb not the happy tranquillity of our lives by inter- fering in the wars of Israel and the king of Jabin ; the torn branch enjoys peace for himself, his children, his servants, his flocks, and his herds, in the plain of Zaa- naim, and the king of Hazor disturbs him not. My sons have guided their herds far from the iron chariots and the horsemen of Hazor ; I shall now turn mine to the pool of the lonely palm, that X may not be far from the tents of my children." Jael was now alone, and on the morn- ing breeze was borne sounds of distant commotion* EUSTACE FITZ-RICHARD. 251 commotion, with the faintly-heard voice of the trumpet; and a man, armed, and covered with dust, and exhausted with fatigue, entered, and Jael accosting him, said — " Enter, my lord, into my tent — my lord Sisera, enter; there wilt thou find a secure place to rest." And the warrior said — " How knowest thou that I am Sisera, the captain of Jabin, king of Hazor ?" And Jael replied — " Of a surety my knowledge betokeneth good unto thee — enter, I pray thee, and eat, and lie thee down and sleep." And Sisera said — " I am a-thirsty ; give me water to drink, I pray you, and here will I break bread with thee, and then I shall know that I am safe, and that I shall not be betrayed into the hands of Barak." And Jael replied — " Of a verity thou shalt not be given a prisoner into the hands of Barak." And Jael went into her tent, and returned with a leathern bottle of milk, and gave of it to Sisera, and he drank, and brake bread with Jael, and ate; and when he had m 6 done 252 EUSTACE FITZ-RICHARD. done eating, Sisera said — " I am wearied, and will go and lie in thy tent, and thou shalt stand in the door ; and should men come this way, and ask thee — ' Is any man here ?' answer—' No ;' and they will turn away, and inquire at the tents of the men, and search ; but they will not search the tent of a woman." And Sisera and Jael entered the tent. And now the tumult of sounds increas- ed ; the rattling of chariots was heard, the shrill blasts of the trumpet, and the tram- pling of steeds. Jael came from the tent, and said — " He sleepeth ; and, as Deborah told unto me in my dream, Sisera, the captain of Jabin, king of Hazor, is given into my hands, even into mine, Jael, the wife of Heber ; and I shall be greater than Barak, and the whole host of Israel. They have but routed the army of Jabin, but I shall be the slayer of their captain, even the mighty Sisera !" And Jael took a hammer, and she drew a large nail from the ground, which pin- ned EUSTACE FITZ-RICHARD. 253 ned her tent to the earth, and she said — " With this nail will I pierce the temples of Sisera, and pin to the earth the mighty captain of Hazor." And Jael entered the tent, and a blow and a groan was heard, and all was still. The chariots, the horses, the clangour of martial music, and the shouts of men, were heard close at hand, and several war- riors hastily entered ; and Jael appeared at the entrance of her tent, and said — " Do I behold Barak, the son of Abinoam?" And Barak answered — " Even so." And Jael said — " Thou hast routed the army of Jabin, king of Hazor ; but Sisera, the mighty captain, hath escaped thee. Be- hold my glory is greater than thy glory ; thou hast scattered the cormorants, I have brought down the eagle !" And Barak said — f Woman, what meanest thou ?" And Jael answered — " Sisera, the captain of the host of Hazor, have I slain ; behold where lies the mighty Sisera!" and she drew aside the curtain of the tent, and Barak £54 EUSTACE FITZ-RICHARD. Barak looked in ; and when he beheld that Sisera was indeed dead, he said — " This is an evil thing, woman, that thou hast done ; the warrior should die by the hand of the warrior, but a woman should heal the wounds of those that faint in the combat, and mourn over those that are slain." And Barak commanded that the body of Sisera should be placed in his own chariot, and his warriors marching before and behind, passed away to the lofty strains of martial music. The performers were much commended, especially for their costume, and the truth of their vizors ; but none of them received greater approbation than the man who personated Jael, who had taken care that no feminine beauty should be discoverable in the mask he wore, doubtless with the view of making its deceitful and assassin- like expression the index of her disposition. Lord Emeric did not join in any of the commendations, but whispered to Marga- ret his critical remarks on the construction of EUSTACE FITZ-RICHARD. 255 of the drama itself. He spoke of the au- thor's obedience to the rules of the wise man of Stagyra — there was unity of time, place, and action ; but for this had been sacrificed an imposing scene of Deborah, in her judgment-seat on Mount Tabor, surrounded by the elders and warriors of Israel, giving her final commands to Ba- rak ; a still grander one of the beleaguer- ing army of the king of Jabin, rushing up the mount, with their chariots of brass and of iron, their horsemen and their footmen, and the final overthrow of Sisera and all his host. As a relief to these im- posing scenes, and to fill up the time which must necessarily have elapsed be- tween them, the author should have in- troduced an episode of two lovers torn asunder by the war — their parting would have been pathetic; and, to heighten the interest, the female might have supposed her lover slain, until, when wandering distracted, she might have discovered him amidst the followers of Barak, at the mo- ment 256 EUSTACE FITZ-RICHAliD. ment when he was bearing off in triumph the body of Sisera. — " In fact," said lord Emerie, " as the subject has been ma- naged, it is about as dull and uninterest- ing a piece as ever I beheld." " I was much interested for Sisera," said Margaret, timidly ; " and when I saw that treacherous Jael draw the nail from the ground, and, declaring her murderous purpose, go into the tent, I could have started up to awaken the sleeper." Lord Emerie smiled, and complimented Margaret on the sensibility of her feelings, and then said — " The author deserves some praise from your charming sex, in giving Jael the excuse of an almost pro- phetic dream for her treachery and cru- elty; for, if I recollect my vulgate cor- rectly, it is not there mentioned that Jael received any previous intimation of Si- sera's being to be given into her hands. But thus it ever is with our holy monks ; when they write these dramas, whether founded on the Old or the New Testa- ment, EUSTACE FITZ-RICHARD. 257 ment, they ingeniously add such circum- stances as will connect the parts, and thus make passages perfectly clear to the com- monest apprehension, which would other- wise seem inexplicable. Thus, on reading the naked story in holy writ, we are led to look upon Jael as one of the most atro- cious of beings ; but when the chasms in the sacred writings are filled up by the reverend fathers of our church, we behold in her the ministering hand of the Most High ; for although the army of Hazor had been routed, the master spirit of the kingdom of Jabin, the mighty Sisera, still lived, and would shortly have brought another army to persecute the children of Israel ; therefore it was that Jael's murder of Sisera was the greatest benefit she could have conferred upon the seed of Abraham, and she had been selected for that great purpose, as a sign that the house of her husband, Heber, though it had been se- parated from the rest of Israel, was still accounted amongst the chosen of God." Lord 258 EUSTACE FITZ-RICHARD. Lord Emeric, happening to look at Margaret at this moment, observed her with difficulty smothering a laugh, while her eyes were directed towards the place of performance; and he now perceived that, instead of attending to his disquisi- tion, her fancy had been caught by a droll, fantastically attired, who had skipped on to the scene with sundry ludicrous antics. " Ah ! are the Kenites, Israelites, and Hazorites, already metamorphosed into merrymen ? that varlet is very skilful with the balls ; one, two — positively there are three flying at the same moment, and I can only manage two ; I must take les- sons from this man. I could laugh to see that monster swallowing hot rolls — did you ever behold such a gourmand ? truly the fellow has merit ; and now that I note his hands, it is that treacherous Jael — my life on't, he pleases the court better in swallowing rolls a yard long, than with his grandest apings of the tragic muse ! That pyramid was very adroitly erected, an EUSTACE FITZ-RICHAUD. 259 an admirable mark for a crossbow ; one could not miss a heart or an eye." " Your lordship is more cruel than Jael," said Margaret ; " you would kill for amuse- ment." " Only hearts and eyes," said Emeric, bowing low. " And still for pastime," rejoined Mar- garet. " It would be well I could derive amuse- ment from the attempt," he replied ; " since I have no chance of winning them." " Your lordship's fame is then very dis- advantageous to you, since I understand the winning foolish hearts to be your serious business." " I would not possess a foolish heart, could I gain it by a single glance," he re- plied ; " it is the mind in a beauteous casket I worship." " I meant a weak, or tender heart — not an imbecile mind." " And I availed myself of the turn in the phrase you used to evade your remark. It 260 EUSTACE FITZ-RICHARD. It is I that have the foolish, tender heart, which makes me the slave of beauty." While lord Emeric thus appeared to de- vote his attentions to Margaret, his eyes frequently glanced towards Adeline, as though anxious to discover whether he had succeeded in alarming her jealousy ; but he was mortified at observing the un- studied indifference of her manner, which, while it chilled his hopes, kindled resent- ment, and prompted the desire of proving his own freedom from her chains, by de- voting himself to Margaret, whom he thought already susceptible of any im- pression in his favour. Adeline had intermingled her attention to the performance with occasional ques- tions to Thomas de Clare, relative to his sister and his other friends at Westminster ; but her eyes were frequently drawn to the cavalier, whom she had previously noticed as the companion of lord Emeric's sere- nade, and whose fine figure had impressed Margaret with the notion that he must be EUSTACE FITZ-RICHARD. 261 be the prince, whose majesty of person was the object of general admiration and comparison. He stood half leaning against the tower, and scarcely appeared to attend to the drama, although his eyes were di- rected towards the performers, except when they would casually glance round on the company. Once when they hap- pened to meet Adeline, a smile of a pe- culiar character played for a moment on his countenance. Adeline noted that look, and felt that it came from one who deemed himself a stranger, more from accident than necessity ; and that he was waiting to discover whether she would recognise him or not. Such was Adeline's interpre- tation of that look, for it betrayed no bold familiarity from a knowledge of lord Eme- ric's mysterious attachment, but was at the same time respectful and intelligent. Adeline thought that that countenance, smile, and glance, were not wholly strange to her; but she in vain endeavoured to think how she could have ever before seen them ; 262 EUSTACE FITZ-RICHARD. them; and having seen them, forgotten them. Twenty times she was on the point of asking De Clare the name of this cavalier, but an invincible timidity check- ed her words ; she endeavoured to accom- plish her object indirectly, by inquiring the names of the others, thinking that this might lead to the chief, or rather only object of her curiosity ; but De Clare re- plied without going beyond the object of his queries. Adeline accused herself of being excessively silly, and almost deter- mined on putting a direct question ; but the moment was postponed until the per- formance was ended, and the company invited to partake of fruits, spices, confec- tionery, and wines, in the tower. But as this was incapable of receiving many per- sons, silver salvers were handed from it to those on the terrace ; and this cavalier taking one as it was being conveyed past him, made his way through the crowd, and stopped before Adeline. There was an animated smile on his countenance, EUSTACE FITZ-RICHARD. 263 countenance, and a flush of colour deepen- ed the expression and the lustre of his dark blue eyes, as he bowed and said — " Lady Adeline de Melmonby knows so well how to punish presumptuous vanity, that I scarcely know whether I may dare to offer her this wine." " I am not aware, sir, that there is any thing presumptuous in the attention you are so good as to honour me with," she replied, surprised at his words, " that de- mand other than my thanks ;" and she took the cup and tasted the wine. " When an object is strongly impressed on the heart and mind," he replied, " we naturally hope that we may not ourselves be wholly forgotten by that object. It is therefore that I have had the vanity to hope that the stripling of sixteen would be recognised in the man of three-and- twenty." " Merciful Heaven ! do I behold Alwyn de Tauheld ?" He smiled with gladness, and raised her offered hand to his lips. " Yes, 264 EUSTACE EIT2MUCHARD. u Yes, my dearest cousin, I am he who has never forgotten those eyes or that mouth, although seven years have made as marvellous a change in your appear- ance, as it seems they have done in mine." " I hope it has been as favourable a one," Adeline involuntarily said. He smiled and replied — " I am then to conclude that mine has been advantageous, which was doubtless much wanted ; but yours has been the gradual unfolding of the rosebud — most beautiful in every stage." " Hold, hold, cousin ! you must leave such compliments to our Troubadours ; they do not flow easily from ingenuous lips." " Lady Adeline has discernment," said lord Emeric, who was now at her elbow, with Margaret's hand in his ; " and dis- covers the sincerity of a compliment in the merit of the person who makes it." " I prohibit sarcasms," said Adeline, gaily ; " I only warned my cousin not to enter EUSTACE FITZ-RICHARD. 265 enter the lists with the first Troubadour of the age, when the inequality of his wea- pons must ensure his defeat." * Your anxiety for his fame will no doubt be duly appreciated," said Emeric; " but since you have so highly compli- mented me, will you extend your good- ness by hinting how I may find equal weapons with which to oppose the accom- plished knight?" " He can never be at a loss with any weapon," Adeline replied, " who, like lord Emeric, is distinguished for excellence in every knightly accomplishment." u Would to Heaven my Amarantha were here ! she would never utter flatteries which betray the coldness of the heart that dictates them." " Let all courteous knights and gentle ladies," said Adeline, " hearken to this bitter truth of our noble Troubadour, that none flatter but those who feel coldly." Lord Emeric's lips quivered, and his hand pressed the one he held of Margaret. vol. i. N — " Could 266 EUSTACE FITZ-RICHARD. — h Could I think," he said, " that Ama- rantha were utterly insensible, I should hate her !" ?■ How has she provoked your ire ?" in- quired sir Alwyn, with an intelligent smile. Emeric seemed to recollect himself, and replied — " A sonnet I this morning wrote struck on my imagination ! yes, in spite of angry feelings, I must acknowledge Amarantha has a heart, though its beat- ings are cold to me ; but I shall ever wor- ship and kiss the chains which bind me to her." " It is not with chains that any woman of spirit would desire to retain her vassals," said Adeline ; " the devotion must be from the heart, or it is valueless ; and as your sovereign mistress, according to all you have said, written* and sung, is di- vine, she, no doubt, reads your inmost thoughts." " Would to Heaven she could, and prove herself divine, by conferring happi- ness EUSTACE FITZ-RICHARD. 267 ness on one who feels for, thinks of none but her !" and as he spoke, Margaret's hand was gently withdrawn from his, and her face bent down on her bosom. This was noticed by Adeline, who, eager to relieve her, said — " Come, my lord, I am at home here, and although I cannot sum- mon your goddess Amarantha from the skies, here is a Hebe, whose hand you must continue to support into the house, whither I perceive the tide is fast flowing." And as she spoke, she gave her hand to Alwyn, and Emeric again taking Marga- ret's, they quitted the terrace. Seated in the embrasure of a window of the saloon, the inquiries of Adeline elicited from sir Alwyn some account of the manner in which his life had been passed, since he had last seen her for a short time, when he was in his sixteenth year, and Adeline in her eleventh. At that time he was on his journey into Scot- land, on a visit to their mutual kinsman, the earl of Lennox, with whom he had N 2 resided 268 EUSTACE FITZ-RICHARD. resided two years, at one or other of his castles in the Lennox, but more particu- larly in that of Inchmorin, in Lochlo- mond. From thence he had been sum- moned to the English court, and had become one of the companions of prince Edward, in whose martial exercises and courtly acquirements he had shared du- ring two years ; since which, he had vi- sited several of the European courts, and had only been a few days in England, having been obliged, by particular circum- stances, to come over from Spain, where he had been engaged in the king of Cas- tile's wars with the Moors of Grenada. Fame had not been idle in bearing to England the glories achieved by her knights against the infidels in Spain ; and Adeline had been frequently delighted to hear the name of her kinsman, sir Alwyn de Tauheld, extolled as one of the brightest ornaments of the Christian chivalry. From the day mentioned by Alwyn, as the one on which he had arrived in Lon- don, EUSTACE FITZ-RICHARD, 269 don, together with his having almost im- mediately departed on a mission for prince Edward, Adeline was led to conclude that it was of him Agnes had spoken at the bishop's palace ; and that when she had alluded in her billet to a gallant exploit of his, it had been one for which he had been highly extolled in Spain, and the report of which had preceded his arrival in Bri- tain. To Adeline's inquiry whether he had come to England with the view of aiding the royal cause, and now that the civil war appeared to be at an end, did he pur- pose returning into Spain, Alwyn replied — " I am free to own, my fair cousin, that I came not to England on account of the civil war ; I was too much fascinated with the wars of Grenada : but how shall I ac- knowledge that my visit to the court of England is the most mercenary act of my life ? I do not know whether you are aware that the earl of Leicester had the wardship of my person and estate, as well N 3 as 270 EUSTACE FITZ-RICHARD. as of yours, and I might add, of half the minors in the kingdom. I had no reason to complain of his guardianship, until the time arrived in which I became entitled to the full possession of my lands ; or what, as I was abroad, would have been the same to me, their annual revenue. But Montfort knew too well, in the pro- secution of his ambitious aims, the value of castles, serfs, and gold, easily to sur- render them into the hands of their right- ful masters. I however felt no want ; for Montfort, who knows as well as any man in Europe, what is necessary for the ho- nourable maintenance of a knight, took care that I should receive sufficient sums for my expenditure. I therefore thought little on the subject, until a recent cir- cumstance proved to me that I wanted more than the mere maintenance of my- self, esquires, and lackeys; and as time pressed, and my word was plighted, I made the best of my way through Spain and France, and now suspect I might have spared EUSTACE FITZ-RICHARD. 271 spared the journey, and at once surren- dered myself a prisoner to the king of Grenada." " Ah ! I heard you had been the victor, not that you required being ransomed." " Such was our good fortune, but there was a fair cortege surprised and carried beyond all power of rescue. It was then I tried the gallantry of our foes, and let me bear testimony that the Moors, al- though the enemies of Christendom, are the brightest ornaments of chivalry. With a white pennon flying beneath the head of my lance, and wholly unattended, I gal- loped to the Moorish camp. The guards opened to the right and left, and I was conducted by an emir to the pavilion of the mirimolin. I made myself known, and the purpose for which I had come. The gallant mussulman instantly libera- ted, unransomed, the beautiful Leonora de Haro ; and I should have retired, elated with my success, had not donna Leonora been overwhelmed with grief at the N 4 thoughts 272 EUSTACE FITZ-RICHARD. thoughts of leaving her female attendants, amongst whom were two near relations of her own, in the possession of the Maho- metans. These ladies had become "the property of some of the mirimolin's offi- cers, from whom I had no right to expect that generosity which I knew to be cha- racteristic of their general ; neither should I have deemed it right to receive a favour capable of pecuniary commutation at their hands, although it was not beneath me to accept it from a sovereign prince. The affair, however, was speedily arranged to the satisfaction of donna Leonora, and with true nobility of mind on the part of the Moorish officers, they accepted my word that the ransom we agreed on for these ladies should be transmitted within six months. I restored donna Leonora and her train to her family, and then has- tened to England, to procure the sum of money required." " Did not this Castilian lady, or her fa- mily, feel bound to pay it ?" " The EUSTACE FITZ-RICHARD. 273 " The donna Leonora was overwhelmed with affliction on discovering a backward- ness on the part of her uncle and guardian, who was her nearest relative, to advance this sum ; and even went the unmanly length of upbraiding her for entailing on the family the encumbrance of providing for those poor female relatives, of whom they would otherwise have been for ever rid. This unfortunate lady took these circum- stances so much to heart, that she threw herself into a convent, with the avowed purpose of taking the veil ; this happened the day before I left Burgos." Adeline sighed, yet she knew not why — and blushed lest the aspiration should have been heard ; and was relieved by Eustace Fitz-Richard's approaching, and soliciting her presence in the music-room, as a probable inducement to lord Emeric's favouring the company with some effusion of his muse. When they entered, the dame was en- treating lord Emeric to sing ; but he de- N 5 clared 274s EUSTACE FITZ-RICHARD. clared he had lost his heart since he entered her house, and had neither voice nor me- mory left. " Treason ! treason to the divine Ama- rantha!" exclaimed Thomas de Clare, as Adeline approached the group, the prin- cipal persons of which were the dame, Margaret, lord Emeric, and De Clare. Emeric's eyes met those of Adeline, and Margaret's face was suffused with blushes. * I must appeal to you, lady Adeline," said the dame ; " lord Emeric declares he has no voice, and I have heard you twenty times say he sings divinely ." " Does lady Adeline deign to recollect me in my absence?" he said to Adeline, his face illumined with animation. " Lord Emeric would scarcely believe those who had once known him, were they to swear he had escaped their recollection." " I did not think I had been such an egregious coxcomb, as I now find I have an established character of being," he re- joined : " but does lady Adeline recollect any EUSTACE FITZ-RICHARD. 275 any of my sonnets ? Are there any which particularly please her ? Do me the ho- nour to name one, and I shall endeavour to meet the wishes of our gentle hostess." " There is one," Adeline replied, " which conveys so beautiful a moral, and is ex- pressed with such felicity, that your lord- ship must have felt, when you composed it, every idea it conveys. It is nay, I forget the name ; but it is about a golden- coloured insect, of a slender form, and with transparent wings. You know what I mean, my lord?" " Tormenting creature! But that I will not sing." " Oh, why not ?" the dame eagerly in- quired. " But I hope it is not about a wasp. I thought I should have been stung to death by one this very day." " In truth, madam, a wasp is the sub- ject of the sonnet I alluded to," said Ade- line ; " but then, be it recollected, he was the king of the tribe, and availing himself of his royal privileges, strayed from flower n6 to 276 EUSTACE FITZ-RICHARD. to flower, revelling in the first pure per- fumes of each. — But I quite mangle your charming ideas, my lord, so, for the ho- nour of your muse, do oblige us with the history of this royal epicure." f Being so determinedly malicious," said Emeric, " we have some chance of the delight of hearing the lady Adeline sing this trifling sonnet, since I shall not. — But to assure you, madam," and he bowed to the dame, " of my perfect devotion to your pleasure, I will take my lute, and trust to the chord I strike for the remind- ing me of a theme ;" and taking the in- strument from the table, he instantly sang. Adeline was convinced that the sonnet he sang was the conception of the mo- ment — it reproached Amarantha with her coldness and contempt, and vt)wed to banish her from his heart, and repose his griefs on a gentle bosom that would not refuse to console him in his affliction. Lord Emeric had never sang with more force EUSTACE FITZ-RICHARD. 277 force and tenderness of expression. His voice partook, with a tremulous vibration, of the sentiments of reproach and pathos he uttered ; and his eyes, when they glan- ced for a moment from beneath their long sable lashes, glowed with a fire which penetrated more bosoms than Margaret's : every one felt the reality of the passions he expressed, and a profound stillness per- vaded the room for some moments after he had ceased to sing. He broke the silence by saying, with an air of light gallantry — " There is mer- rier music than mine in the next room, awaiting the signal to strike up; and would any fair lady take pity on a dis- tressed Troubadour, I would lead her a measure, with such heart as the tabor and pipe can give me;" and he turned and bowed low to Margaret. Never had the blushing girl felt a mo- ment like this ; and she required the prompting of her mother, before she could summon sufficient presence of mind to acknowledge 278 EUSTACE FITZ-RICHARD. acknowledge the courtesy of lord Emeric, and allow him to take her hand. He half raised it to his lips, and then, with a proud elated air, led her past Adeline; and at the same time the music in the adjoining room commenced a lively Asiatic march. The gallants bowed to the smiling mai- dens, and taking their hands, followed with elastic steps to the martial strains, lord Emeric and Margaret to the adjoin- ing room. Adeline's hand had been claimed by sir Alwyn, and they stood at the opposite end of the room to that of Margaret and lord Emeric. Fine dancing was then considered as indispensable to knightly accomplishment as skill in horsemanship and all warlike exercises ; but it consisted in the grace, elegance, and dignity of air and motion, not in the extravagances and littlenesses of the modern opera ballet. No one surpassed lord Emeric in this ac- complishment, and a murmur of approba- tion followed him, so as to leave Margaret almost EUSTACE FITZ-RICHAHD. 279 almost unnoticed, whose timidity, for the time, could not be conquered, and who appeared perfectly bewildered. Adeline danced with the grace for which she had been distinguished amongst her companions at the court of Eleanor, and with a skill which just stopped short of betraying the master's science ; while Al- wyn moved with that noble air which so well accorded with his strikingly fine and commanding figure, and at times with a lively elegance, inspired by the sprightly turn in the music, which shewed the flexibility of his limbs to be equal to the justness of their proportions. All was gaiety and admiration ; but there was one of the spectators who felt dissatisfied — that one was dame Fitz- Richard; and once more her spirit re- belled, and she thought of the earl of Leicester, who, she felt convinced, had he been present, would not have allowed her to look on while others danced. What had not been sacrificed by her and her spouse 280 EUSTACE FITZ-RICHARD. spouse to their loyalty ! Could she hope ever again to have the offer of having for her partner in the dance the conqueror, and at the moment of victory, of a king of England ? What an event in her life had been thus irrecoverably lost ! one of which the bare recital would have amply compensated for all the ills of after life — an event which, when the grave had closed on her, would have been proudly spoken of by her descendants. There are some deprivations which we can never bear to think of, and the dame felt this to be one of those. From thinking of what her reanimated loyalty had thus for ever deprived her, the dame, with no very great charity of feeling, extended her observation, and drew no very favourable conclusion of the manners of the rising generation, in com- parison with that to which they were gradually succeeding. Would the earl of Leicester, and the other noble peers who had honoured the civic mask with their EUSTACE FITZ-RICHAItD. 281 their presence, have allowed her to be a mere spectator, and in her own house too, while such a child as Margaret, who would have been much better in her bed, was selected for the partner of the most ac- complished of the young noblemen who were present? The dame's disgust was heightened, and she could scarcely refrain from scolding Margaret for the awkward- ness she displayed ; while the next mo- ment she checked herself, mentally con- cluding, that it was beneath a person of sense to vex herself about either Margaret or any other of the dancers. But the dame's dissatisfaction was com- pletely chased away by the looks of plea- sed surprise with which her supper-tables were viewed by her guests, when they entered the eating-hall. In her table she prided herself; and however much Eus- tace's new friends were charmed by their fair partners, they were not insensible to the luxuries which were now offered them, nor so very vapid as to spare those en- comiums 282 EUSTACE FITZ-RICHARD. comiums which failed not to delight their kind hostess. Adeline sat between Alwyn and Tho- mas de Clare, and directly opposite were Margaret and Emeric. The whole com- pany were animated, and the reciprocal attentions of the table intermixed with detached conversation. " Amidst such an assemblage of beau- ty," said De Clare to Adeline, " I should fear the power of the absent Amarantha would be annihilated." " Oh no, creatures of the imagination," she replied, " always gain by comparison with those who are clogged with human imperfections." * And Amarantha is so free from all such," said Emeric, who had heard their words, " that she comes with added bright- ness on my imagination from the beauties I behold, uniting in herself the perfec- tions of each individual." '" Yet I have heard the bitterest re- proaches of this invisible deity," said Al- wyn, EUSTACE FITZ-RICHARD. 283 wyn, M poured forth to the evening breeze, as it floated along the rapid waters of the Rhone; nay, they have been heard by the sluggish Seine ; nor has the Thames been a stranger to them." " But they were still the aspirations of a constant heart," rejoined Emeric ; " of one whose sighs are not so fickle as those which were whilom breathed at a certain convent's gates, amidst the mountains of Old Castile." " Those were unknightly sighs," said Alwyn, laughing, " since they were for five hundred marks, which I must obtain ere I can have a heart to give." w He who can give or withhold his love on calculation," said Emeric, u has not a heart worth having." " But may we not," said Eustace Fitz- Richard, " love, and yet be sensible, that, from some great obstacle, it must be hope- less unless that obstacle can be removed ?" " The gratification of it, no doubt," re- plied Emeric ; " but that does not affect its 284 EUSTACE FITZ-IilCHARD. its existence ; it would, with some, rather augment its intensity." " But should the unwelcome truth be forced on you," said Eustace, " that the object of your passion loved another." " I should still love on," Emeric an- swered, " and would admire her more, and be more happy with myself, than if her coldness proceeded from the indiffe- rence of an unoccupied heart." " And would make sonnets in her praise," said De Clare, " and swear love to another." " Who has heard me utter a vow of love for another than Amarantha during two whole years ?" returned Emeric ; " and yet no one knows whether I am happy or unfortunate in my love." " Excepting from the variety of your sonnets," replied De Clare, " and the tongue of fame, which has proclaimed your having been on your knees to a hun- dred cruel fair ones within that time." " Speak not of idle gallantries when Amarantha EUSTACE FITZ-RICHARD. 285 Amarantha is alluded to! she has my heart — all others but the compliments due to their charms." u A very fair warning truly," said Al- wyn, " to be given in the presence of the fairest flowers of England, and whose charms you do not appear to have beheld with indifference." " Heaven forbid I ever should !" Eme- ric exclaimed. " To do homage to beauty is the highest tribute I can pay to her who possesses my heart : were I insensible to its charms, Amarantha could have no proof of my admiration of her being well founded. When I have praised the li- quid blue of her eyes, have I not had to compare them with the soul-thrilling power of the hazel ?" All eyes wandered round the room, but there were fortunately many of hazel, although blue predominated. " Leaving Amarantha out of the ques- tion," said Alwyn, " to which would you give the palm, hazel or blue?" "Oh, 286 EUSTACE FITZ-RICHARD. " Ob, hazel, hazel ! blue is too cold — too pure — it chills ! hazel has caught the li- ving gold from the sun, and enriches while it consumes. I die beneath the mild glance of Amarantha, but am warm- ed into ecstacy, when I gaze on eyes whose deep lustre glows with solar fire." " But it has been said," observed De Clare, with a significant look, " that such lustrous eyes have lost their glories, and been likened to the mouldering gleams of a charcoal fire." " Ah ! has that rude speech been pro- claimed ?" said Emeric : " well would the malicious fair to whom it was uttered de- serve that I should for ever maintain that grey eyes cannot be charming, however beautiful their form and expression !" " I have fancied I beheld more sense beaming from dark grey eyes," said Ade- line, " than from those of any other co- lour." " That is the very reason they are of inferior charms," said Emeric ; " they are admirably EUSTACE FITZ-RICHARD. 287 admirably calculated for the common pur- poses of life, but they have neither the tenderness of sensibility, the blaze of pas- sion, nor the inspiration of genius." " Thank God, my eyes are grey !" said master Fitz-Richard, with a quiet smile, which, with his remark, made all the com- pany laugh, for the attention of all had been given to this discussion on eyes. " There cannot be a stronger proof of lady Adeline's and my position," said Emeric, " than the remark of our worthy host ; good sense, and freedom from vio- lent passions, were never more strongly expressed than in the words and counte- nance of master Fitz-Richard.'"' " Your lordship has omitted to dwell on the want of tenderness and genius," said Fitz-Richard, with a good-humoured smile. " It is not the eyes alone," Emeric quickly replied, " to which their deve- lopement are confined ; we think we dis- cover the heart and mind in the most in- tellectual 288 EUSTACE FITZ-RICHARD. tellectual of all the features; but they are nevertheless to be traced in others, and even the eyes, when well formed, will ex- press all the sublimer passions, though not with such force as when aided by colour." " I am much obliged to you, my lord," said Fitz-Richard, laughingly, "for having had the goodness to heal the wounds you had inflicted on my vanity ; and if you will do me the honour to pledge me in a cup of champaign, it may inspire you with the inclination to gratify us with one of your beautiful sonnets." Lord Emeric drank the wine with Fitz- Richard, and at once sang: the sonnet described him as mourning over his hope- less passion, when a iair and innocent be- ing stood beside him, as he reclined on a flowery bank, and with a look of tender- ness offered to sooth his grief; but when he told its cause, she with an averted air withdrew, leaving him to continue the unhappy slave of Amarantha. There was a melancholy tenderness in the voice of Emeric EUSTACE FITZ-RICHAED. 289 Emeric as he sang, and an apparent strug- gle between his love of Amarantha and suddenly-awakened admiration of the fair vision, which conveyed a truth of descrip- tion that was felt by many, but by none more than by Margaret. * I will put it to the vote," said Thomas de Clare, " whether lord Emeric shall not be obliged, either to produce this imper- tinent Amarantha, or leave us, from his own description of her, to decide whether she has a right, when absent, thus to rival such an assemblage of beauty as graces this table." This compliment obtained an unani- mous suffrage to his proposal, and Emeric was called on to present, or else describe, Amarantha, so that none could mistake her, when fortune should place them in her presence. There was one at the table in some de- gree dismayed at this proposition, and the heart of another fluttered with trepida- tion ; but Emeric lost not his presence of vol. i. o mind, 290 EUSTACE FITZ-RICHARD. mind, and said — " I have frequently de- scribed each feature, and every beauty of mind and person, which distinguishes Amarantha above all her sex." " True," said De Clare; "but you have given one sonnet to her eyes, another to her eyebrows, a third to her forehead, a fourth to her mouth, a fifth to her nose » " Stop, stop, good Thomas !" interrupt- ed Emeric ; " you must not run over every feature with such voluble brevity ; I have made each the subject of a grave and regular poem, and I will not allow them to be called over as though they were only the names of the leaders of an army." " I beg the goddess Amarantha's par- don," said De Clare, with assumed gravity ; " but I seriously hope your lordship will at once produce her, rather than be at the trouble of describing her with that diffuse- ness we have so often had occasion to ad- mire." I always EUSTACE FITZ-RICHARD. 291 " I always thought you had no taste for descriptive poetry/' said Emeric: then looking slowly around, he added — " One part of my profession of a Troubadour, and not the least important, is the realizing of more extraordinary illusions than that of making absent persons appear visibly pre- sent." All the ladies started, and looked anxi- ously at the Troubadour. Margaret for a moment raised her eyes, and involuntarily shrunk further from him. Lord Emeric perceived the sensation he had excited, but without appearing to have noticed it, continued — " Although I have not all the apparatus with me, by which such occult mysteries can be exe- cuted, I can yet gratify the company by giving them a sight of the shade of Ama- rantha ; but as this, from the scantiness of my materials, can only be seen by one person at a time, it would be as tiresome as the enumeration of features with which De Clare was disposed to favour us." 2 " But 29% EUSTACE FITZ-RTCHAllDi " But not quite so fatiguing as the grave and regular poems." i( A truce, good Thomas," said Emeric. — "And now,ladies, will you nominate one of your fair number to be the beholder of Amaranth a?" " Oh, mercy !" cried a dozen voices— * " not me! not me !" " Since there are so many alarmed — and I am not surprised that it should be so," resumed Emeric, "I propose, with per- mission of the company, that the lady on my right hand and on my left draw lots which of them is to see the vision I shall command to appear. — De Clare, hold the lots, and the lady who draws the longest shall behold Amarantha." De Clare, holding them between the fin- ger and thumb of his left hand, leaned over the table. The whole company had be- come interested, and completely ruled by the will, whether fanciful or serious, of lord Emeric: Margaret and the young lady on his left hand turned pale and trembled, EUSTACE FITZ-RICHARD. 293 trembled, yet at length, though with tre- pidation, put forth their fingers. The lots were drawn, and Margaret was pro- claimed the person to behold the mystic Amarantha. Lord Em eric requested that his page might be called, and in a moment the youth entered. The Troubadour spoke not, but he made signs with his fingers with a rapidity and slightness which baf- fled all other observation than that of the page, who, when his lord at last waved his hand, pressed both his own to his breast, bowed, and retired. A deep silence pervaded the company, not a whisper was heard, nor the rustling of a silk, and all eyes were fixed on the Troubadour. In a few minutes the page returned, and lord Emeric rising, said, addressing Margaret — " You will have the goodness, gentle lady, to permit my page to conduct you to the saloon: approach the centre window, and looking carefully through it o 3 in 294 EUSTACE FITZ-ItlCHARD. in the direction of Westminster Abbey, you will behold the object of my admira- tion. But there is one condition annexed to this privilege which must not be broken : you must not describe the appearance of the vision, although you may say whether you think her worthy or not of the love of an enamoured Troubadour." " Oh, I dare not go ! don't ask me to go alone — I shall die from fear !" " It is not within the compass of my power to obtain a view of the vision for more than one person at a time. Be not alarmed ; but if you doubt the word of a Troubadour, rest secure in that of a knight who pledges his faith to thee that no harm betides thee. My page leads the way. Lady, be confident, and remember, that no one but thyself is to know who my Amarantha is." It was not affectation— Margaret was really alarmed ; but the encouragement of some, and the raillery of others, gradually impelled her on, and she followed the page. All EUSTACE FITZ-RICHARD. 295 All was still in the supper-room ; the steps of Margaret and the page were faint- ly heard ascending the stairs. — " They are in the saloon," said dame Fitz-Richard, in a suppressed voice. A shriek from Margaret was heard ; the company started from their seats. Angry glances were thrown from Fitz-Richard and Eustace on lord Emeric. But the Troubadour alone remained seated ; his countenance was composed, and his eyes met not those of another. In a minute Margaret reentered the hall ; her looks were terrified, yet there was an indication of a smile ; her cheeks were pale, and yet her eyes flashed fire : they met those of lord Emeric, and both their faces were suffused with colour. A hundred questions were poured on her, and by their multiplicity, gave Margaret time to recover herself ere any one could be permitted to hear her, — " I have seen Amarantha." " Oh, 296 EUSTACE FITZ-RICHARD. " Oh, the Virgin save us ! tell us all — how — oh, mercy ! what was she like ?" " When I went into the saloon, oh how frightened I was ! I clasped my hands, and held them up to my chin — I thought I should have fainted ; but I did not dare " But you don't tell us what you saw." " Did I not say I saw the lord Emeric's Amarantha ?" " When — where — how did you see her?" " As I went up, trembling, to the win- dow, I thought myself almost blind — perhaps from having come from the glare of light here and on the stairs, for there was none in the saloon, although the sky, and some few stars, gleamed through the windows — when suddenly I beheld " " The blessed saints protect us ! what — what did you see ?" m Suddenly a blaze of light shone before me, and I beheld — I " " Grant me patience," cried the dame, * what did you behold?" « Lord EUSTACE FITZ-RICHARD. 297 " Lord Emeric's Amarantha — did I not say I had beheld Amarantha ?" " And was she so very frightful as to make you scream ?" asked Eustace. " Had I expected what I was to have seen, I should not have screamed." " Then you did not see a very beautiful apparition, did you?" asked Thomas de Clare. Margaret looked at him a moment, and said — " Yes — no." " Is it the affirmative or the negative we are to believe?" he laughingly asked. " I don't know ; but I only saw her for a moment — she looked very pale." " Remember," said lord Emeric, grave- ly, " you are not to speak of features, form, or colour." Margaret held down her head,, and when farther pressed, said, that the sud- denly seeing, in a blaze of light, a female form, had made her shriek, and she be- lieved, close her eyes ; and when she, the next moment, ventured to look around, the 298 EUSTACE FITZ-RICHARD. the page had offered to light her back to the hall. " But you have not told us," said her mother, " that which you was sent to sa- tisfy us of— is this mystical lady really so beautiful as lord Emeric describes her to be?" Margaret slightly blushed, but answered — " You know, my dear mamma, you don't think me a competent judge in any matter of importance." " What a provoking child ! why, you do not pretend to say you don't know a beautiful face when you see it ?" " But tastes are so various," said Mar- garet, apparently wishing to evade a dis- tinct answer, " that what one person may think beautiful, another may look on with indifference." ¥■ Then Amarantha is absolutely quite a plain-looking sort of personage?" said the dame. " I said no such thing, mamma," replied Margaret quickly ; " on the contrary, al- though EUSTACE FIT5-RICHARD. 299 though I don't pretend to be a very good judge, I have a strong notion that she is really pretty." " Pretty ! pretty !" exclaimed several voices ; " what a description of Amaran- tha ! — Pretty ! and is she only pretty ?" " It is very hard to be forced to give an opinion when I cannot possibly have one of any value; but if I must do justice to this very strange being, I will utter it, though you should kill me : I think her more beautiful than any of you." " A thousand thanks for the justice you have at length done my Amarantha P said lord Emeric, who, with the whole com- pany, crowded round Margaret ; "and on my knee I beseech you, no further to an- swer questions that would tear aside the veil which enshrouds the object of my passion ;" and he took her hand as he knelt, and kissed her glove. " And I solemnly protest," said Thomas de Clare, " in the name of all the charm- ing ladies present, against the intolerable arrogance 300 EUSTACE FITZ-RICHARD. arrogance of lord Emeric, in admitting that Amarantha is more beautiful than any one of this fair assemblage." Many a blue and hazel eye beamed kindly on the young De Clare for thus becoming their champion. Emeric's dark eyes flashed around, and a smile of tri- umph curled his lip. — " Be not offended," he said, " that there is one still more beautiful than you ; were there not, my poor heart would be thrown amongst you, and torn by its own conflicting passions. I think my Amarantha the most perfect of her sex ; and may each of you be ever thought the same by him you honour with your love !" " To the dance ! the dance !" cried twenty voices, and once more the merry music was responded to by the joyful company ; nor did they separate until the sun's rays penetrated the deep-set windows. END OF VOL. I. Printed by J. Darling, Leadenball-Street, Loiidcu. J