"You shall have all that you wish, fair Ella," answered Ned Dyram, "if you will but smile upon my suit!"
"Smile!" exclaimed Ella, with the same light manner. "Did ever man dream of such a thing so soon! Why, you may think yourself highly favoured, if you get a smile within three months. The first moon is all sighing--the next is all beseeching--the next, hoping and fearing; and then, perchance, a smile may come, to give hope encouragement. A kind word may follow at the end of the fourth month, and so on. But the lady who could be wholly won before three years, is unworthy of regard. However, Master Dyram," she continued in a graver tone, "you must make haste to purchase what you want, for I am over-weary to walk further over these rough stones."
Just as she spoke, brother Paul pa.s.sed them, in company with a secular priest; and, although he took no notice of his fellow travellers, walking on as if he did not see them, the quick eye of Ned Dyram perceived with a glance that the priest and the monk had stopped, and were gazing back, talking earnestly together.
"That dull shaveling loves us not, fair Ella," said Ned Dyram. "He is one of your haters of all men, I should think."
"I have seen his face somewhere before," answered Ella Brune; "but I know not well where. "Tis not a pleasant picture to look upon, certainly, but he may be a good man for all that. Come, Master Dyram, what is it you want to buy? Here are stalls enough around us now; and if you do not choose speedily, I must turn back to the inn, and leave you to find your way through Ghent alone."
"Then, first," said Ned Dyram, "I would buy a clasp to fasten the hood round your fair face."
"What!" exclaimed Ella, in a tone of merry anger; "accept a present within a week of having seen you first! Nay, nay, servant of mine, that is a grace you must not expect for months to come. No, if that be all you want, I shall turn back," and she did so accordingly; but Ned Dyram had accomplished as much of his object as he had hoped or expected, for that day at least. He had spoken of love with Ella Brune; and, although what a great seer of the human heart has said, that "talking of love is not making it," may be true, yet it is undoubtedly a very great step to that pleasant consummation. But Ned Dyram had done more; he had overstepped the first great barrier; and Ella now knew that he loved her. He trusted to time and opportunity for the rest; and he was not one to doubt his skill in deriving the greatest advantage from both.
The foolish and obtuse are often deceived by others; the shrewd and quick are often deceived by themselves. Without that best of all qualities of the mind, strong common sense, there is little to choose between the two: for if the dull man has in the world to contend with a thousand knaves, the quick one has in his own heart to contend with a thousand pa.s.sions; and, perhaps, the domestic cheats are the most dangerous after all. There is not so great a fool on the earth as a clever man, when he is one; and Ned Dyram was one of that cla.s.s, so frequently to be found in all ages, whose abilities are sometimes serviceable to others, but are rarely, if ever, found serviceable to themselves.
Ella had used but little art towards him, but that which all women use, or would use, under such circ.u.mstances. Her first great thought was to conceal the love she felt; and where--when it becomes necessary to do so--is there a woman who will not find a thousand disguises to hide it from all eyes? But to him especially she was anxious to suffer no feeling of her bosom to appear; for she had speedily discovered, by a sort of intuition rather than observation--or, perhaps by a quickness in the perception of small traits which often seems like intuition--that he was keen and cunning beyond his seeming; and now she had a double motive for burying every secret deep in her own heart. She laid out no plan, indeed, for her future conduct towards him; she thought not what she would say, or what she would do; and if, in her after course, she employed aught like wile against his wiles, it was done on the impulse of the moment, and not on any predetermined scheme.
Ned Dyram had remarked his master"s conduct well since Ella had been their companion; he had seen that Woodville had been sincere in the opinion he had expressed, that it would be better for her to remain in England; and the very calm indifference which he had displayed on finding her in the ship with himself, had proved to him, both that there had never been any love pa.s.sages between them ere he knew either, as he had imagined when first he was sent to London, and thus there was no chance of the young gentleman"s kindly sympathy for the fair girl he protected growing into a warmer feeling. He read the unaffected conduct of his master aright; but to that of Ella Brune he had been more blind, partly because he was deceived by his own pa.s.sions, partly because, in this instance, he had a much deeper and less legible book to read--a woman"s heart; and, though naturally of a clear-sighted and even suspicious mind, he saw not, in the slightest degree, the real impulses on which she acted.
Contented, therefore, with the progress he had made, he purchased some articles of small value at one of the stalls which they pa.s.sed, and returned to the inn with his fair companion, who at once sought her chamber, and retired to rest, without waiting for Richard of Woodville"s return. Then sitting down in a dark corner of the hall, in which several of his companions were playing at tables, and two or three other guests listening to a tale in broad Flemish, delivered by the host, Dyram turned in his mind all that had pa.s.sed between him and Ella, and, with vanity to aid him, easily persuaded himself that his suit would find favour in her eyes. He saw, indeed, that the rash and licentious thoughts which he had at one time entertained in regard to her when he found her poor, solitary, and unprotected, at a hostel in the liberties of the city, were injurious to her; but as his character was one of those too ordinary and debased ones, which value all things by the difficulty of attainment, he felt the more eagerly inclined to seek her, and to take any means to make her his, because he found her less easy to be obtained than he had at first imagined.
CHAPTER XXI.
THE EXILE.
At one side of a small square or open s.p.a.ce, in the town of Ghent, rose a large pile of very ancient architecture, called the Graevensteen, for many centuries the residence of the Counts of Flanders. Covering a wide extent of ground with its walls and towers, the building ran back almost to the banks of the Lieve, over which a bridge was thrown, communicating with the castle on one side, and the suburbs on the other. In front, towards the square, and projecting far before the rest of the pile, was a ma.s.sive castellated gate of stone, flanked by high towers, rising to a considerable height. The aspect of the whole was gloomy and stern; but the gay scene before the gates--the guards, the attendants, the pages in the bright-coloured and splendid costumes, particularly affected by the house of Burgundy--relieved the forbidding aspect of the dark portal, contrasting brilliantly, though strangely, with its sombre and prison-like air.
At a small light wicket, in a sort of bal.u.s.trade, or screen, of richly sculptured stone, which separated the palace from the rest of the square, stood two or three persons, some of them in arms, others dressed in the garb of peace; and Richard of Woodville, with his guide, approaching one who seemed to be the porter, inquired if Sir Philip de Morgan could be spoken with?
"Pa.s.s in," was the brief reply:--"the door in the court, on the left of the gate;" and walking on, they took their way under the deep arch, and found in one of the towers a small low door of ma.s.sive oak, studded with huge bosses of iron. No one was in attendance; and this door being partially open, was pushed back by Richard of Woodville, who bade the guide wait below, while he mounted the narrow stairs, the foot of which was seen before him. At the first story another open door presented itself, displaying a little anteroom, with two or three servants seated round a table, playing at cross and pile, a game which, by this time, had descended from kings to lacqueys. Entering at once, the young gentleman, using the French tongue, demanded to speak with Sir Philip de Morgan; but the servants continued their game with that sort of cold indifference which Englishmen of an inferior cla.s.s have, in all ages, been accustomed to show towards foreigners: one of them replying, in very bad French, and hardly lifting his head from the game, "He can"t be spoken with--he is busy!" adding in English to his fellow, "Play on, Wilfred."
"How now, knave!" exclaimed Richard of Woodville in his own tongue; "Methinks you are saucy! Rise this moment, and inform your master that a gentleman from the King of England desires to speak with him."
The man instantly started up, replying, "I beg your pardon, sir. I did not know you. I thought it was some of those Flemish hogs, come to speak about the vellum."
"Learn to be civil to all men, sir," replied Richard of Woodville; "and that a serving man is as much below an honest trader as the trader is below his lord. Go and do as I have told you."
The lacquey retired by a door opposite, leaving a smile upon the faces of his fellows at the lecture he had received; and after being absent not more than a minute, he re-opened the door, saying, "Follow me, n.o.ble sir; Sir Philip will see you."
Pa.s.sing through another small chamber, in which a pale thin man in a black robe, with a shaven crown, was sitting, busily copying some papers, Richard of Woodville was ushered into a larger room, poorly furnished. At a table in the midst, was seated a corpulent, middle-aged personage, with a countenance which at first sight seemed dull and heavy. The nose, the cheeks, the lips, were fat and protruding; and the thick s.h.a.ggy eyebrows hung so far over the eyes, as almost to conceal them. The forehead, however, was large and fine, somewhat prominent just about the brow, and over the nose; and when the eye could be seen, though small and grey, there was a bright and piercing light in it, which frequently accompanies high intellect. He was dressed in the plainest manner, and in dark colours, with a furred gown over his shoulders, and a small black velvet cap upon his head; nor would it have been easy for any one unacquainted with his real character to divine that in that coa.r.s.e and somewhat repulsive form was to be found one of the greatest diplomatists of his age.
Sir Philip de Morgan rose as soon as Richard of Woodville entered, bowing his head with a courtly inclination, and desiring his visitor to be seated. As soon as the servant had closed the door, he began the conversation himself, saying, "My knave tells me, sir, you come from the King. It might have been more prudent not to say so."
"Why, good faith, Sir Philip," replied Woodville, "without saying so, there was but little chance of seeing you; for you have some saucy vermin here, who thought fit to pay but little attention to my first words; and moreover, as I have letters from the King for the Count de Charolois, which must be publicly delivered, concealment was of little use, and could last but a short time."
"That alters the case," answered Sir Philip de Morgan. "As to my knaves, they must be taught to use their eyes, though a little insolence is not altogether objectionable; but you mentioned letters for the Count--I presume you have some for me?"
"I have," answered Richard of Woodville, putting his hand into the gibeciere, or pouch, which was slung over his right shoulder and under his left arm, by an embroidered band. "This, from the King, sir;" and he placed Henry"s letter in the envoy"s hand.
Sir Philip de Morgan took it, cut the silk with his dagger, and drew forth the two sheets which it contained. The first which he looked at was brief; and the second, which was folded and sealed, with two words written in the corner, he did not open, but laid aside.
"So, Master Woodville," he said, after this examination, "I find you have come to win your golden spurs in Burgundy. What lies in me to help you, I will do. To-morrow I will make you known to the Count de Charolois. I was well acquainted with your good father, and your lady mother, too. She was the sister, if I recollect, of the good knight of Dunbury, a very n.o.ble gentleman;" and then, turning from the subject, he proceeded, with quiet and seemingly unimportant questions, to gain all the knowledge that he could from Richard of Woodville regarding the court of England, and the character, conduct, and popularity of the young King. But his visitor, as the reader may have seen in earlier parts of this true history, though frank and free in his own case, and where no deep interests were concerned, was cautious and on his guard in matters of greater moment. He was not sent thither to babble of the King"s affairs; and though he truly represented his Sovereign as highly popular with all cla.s.ses, and deservedly so, Sir Philip de Morgan gained little farther information from him on any of the many points, in regard to which the diplomatist would fain have penetrated the monarch"s designs before he thought fit to communicate them.
The high terms in which Henry had been pleased to speak of the gentleman who bore his letter, naturally induced the envoy to set down his silence to discretion, rather than to want of knowledge; and he observed, after his inquiries had been parried more than once, "You are, I see, prudent and reserved in your intelligence, Master Woodville."
"It is easy to be so, fair sir," answered his visitor, "when one has nothing to communicate. Doubtless the King has told you all, without leaving any part of his will for me to expound. At least, if he did, he informed me not of it; and I have nothing more to relate."
"What! not one word of France?" asked the knight, with a smile.
"Not one!" replied Woodville, calmly.
The envoy smiled again. "Well," he said, "then tomorrow, at noon, I will go with you to the Count, if you will be here. Doubtless we shall hear more of your errand, from the letters you bear to that n.o.ble prince."
"I do not know," replied Woodville, rising; "but at the same time, I would ask you to send some one with me to find out the dwelling of one Sir John Grey, if he be now in Ghent."
"Sir John Grey!" said de Morgan, musing, as if he had never heard the name before. "I really cannot tell you where to find such a person: there is none of that name here. Is he a friend of your own?"
"No!" answered Richard of Woodville; "I never saw him."
"Then you have letters for him, I presume," rejoined the other. "What says the superscription? Does it not give you more clearly his place of abode? This town contains many a street and lane. I have only been here these eight hours since several years; and he may well be in the place and I not know it."
Woodville drew forth the King"s letter, and gazed at the writing on the back; while Sir Philip de Morgan, who had risen likewise, took a silent step round, and glanced over his arm. "Ha! the King"s own writing," he said. "Sir John Grey! I remember; there is, I believe, an old countryman of ours, living near what is called the Sas de Gand, of the name of Mortimer. He has been here some years; and if there be a man in Ghent who can tell you where to find this Sir John Grey, "tis he. Nay, I think you may well trust the letter in his hands to deliver. Stay, I will send one of my knaves with you, who knows the language and the manners of this people well."
"I thank you, n.o.ble sir," replied his visitor; "but I have a man waiting for me, who will conduct me, if you will but repeat the direction that you gave--near the Sas de Gand, I think you said?"
"Just so," replied Sir Philip de Morgan, drily; "but not quite so far.
It is a house called the house of Waeerschoot;--but it is growing late; in less than an hour it will be dark. You had better delay your visit till to-morrow, when you will be more sure of admission; for he is of a moody and somewhat strange fantasy, and not always to be seen."
"I will try, at all events, to-night," replied Richard of Woodville.
"I can but go back tomorrow, if I fail. Farewell, Sir Philip, I will be with you at noon;"--and, after all the somewhat formal courtesies and leave-takings of the day, he retired from the chamber of the King"s envoy, and sought the guide who had conducted him thither.
The man was soon found, talking to one of the inferior attendants of the Count of Charolois; and, calling him away, Richard of Woodville directed him to lead to the house which Sir Philip de Morgan had indicated. The guide replied, in a somewhat dissatisfied tone, that it was a long way off; but a word about his reward soon quickened his movements; and issuing through the gates of the city, they followed a lane through the suburbs on the northern side of the Lys.
A number of fine houses were built at that time beyond the actual walls of Ghent; for the frequent commotions which took place in the town, and the little ceremony with which the citizens were accustomed to take the life of any one against whom popular wrath had been excited, rendered it expedient in the eyes of many of the n.o.bles of Flanders to lodge beyond the dangerous fortifications, which were as often used to keep in an enemy as to keep one out. Many of these were modern buildings; but others were of a far more ancient date; and at length, as it was growing dusk, the young Englishman"s guide stopped at the gate of one of the oldest houses they had yet seen, and struck two or three hard blows upon the large heavy door. For some time nothing but a hollow sound made answer; and looking up, Richard of Woodville examined the mansion, which seemed going fast into a state of decay. It had once been one of the strong battlemented dwellings of some feudal lord; and heavy towers, and numberless turrets, seemed to show that the date of its first erection went back to a time when the city of Ghent, confined to its own walls, had left the houses which were built beyond them surrounded only by the uncultivated fields and pastures, watered by the Scheld, the Lys, and the Lieve. The walls still remained solid, though the sharp cutting of the round arches had mouldered away in the damp atmosphere; and the cas.e.m.e.nts above--for externally there were none on the lower story--were, in many instances, dest.i.tute of even the small lozenges of gla.s.s, which, in those days, were all that even princely mansions could boast.
After waiting more than a reasonable time, the guide knocked loud again, and, looking round for a bell, at length found a rope hanging under the arch, which he pulled violently. While it was still in his hand, a stout Flemish wench appeared, and demanded what they wanted, that they made so much noise? Her words, indeed, were unintelligible to the young Englishman; but, guessing their import, he directed the guide to inquire if an Englishman, of the name of Mortimer, lived there? A nod of the head, which accompanied her reply, showed him that it was in the affirmative; and he then, by the same intervention, told her to let her master know, that a gentleman from England wished to see him.
The girl laughed, and shook her head, saying something which, when it came to be translated, proved to be, that she knew he would not see any one of the kind; but, though it was of no use, she would go and inquire; and away she consequently ran with good-humoured speed, showing, as she went, a pair of fat, white legs, with no other covering than that with which nature had furnished them.
She returned in a minute, with a look of surprise; and bade the strangers follow her, which they did, into the court. There, however, Woodville again directed his guide to wait, and, under the pilotage of the Flemish maid, entered upon a sea of pa.s.sages, till at length, catching him familiarly by the hand to guide him in the darkness that reigned within, she led him to a flight of stairs, and opened a door at the top. Before him lay a small room, ornamented with richly carved oak, the lines and angles of which caught faintly the light proceeding from a lamp upon the table; and, standing in the midst of the room, with a look of eager impatience, was a man, somewhat advanced in life, though younger than Woodville had expected to see. His hair, it is true, was white, and his beard, which he wore long, was nearly so likewise; but he was upright, and seemingly firm in limb and muscle.[6] His face had furrows on it, too; but they seemed more those of care and thought than age; and his eye was clear, undimmed, and flashing.