Alice cried aloud, "Nay, nay, lady, we are English still. There are my father; my lord, the Duke of Bedford; they will not suffer any wrong to be done."
"Hush, Alice. None of them hath any power to aid me. Even good King Henry had no legal power to protect me; only he was so great, so strong in word or deed, that no man durst do before him what he declared a shame and a sin. Now it will be expedient more than ever that nothing be done by the English to risk offending the Duke of Burgundy. None will dare withhold me; none ought to dare, for they act not for themselves, but for their infant charge; and my countess is weary of me. There is nothing to prevent my uncles from taking me away with them; or-"
"Nothing!" cried Alice. "It cannot be! Oh, that my father were here!"
"He could do nothing for me."
"A convent!"
"No convent here could keep me against the Bishop of Therouenne."
Alice wrung her hands. "Oh, it cannot-shall not be!"
"No, Alice, I do not believe it will be. I have that confidence in Him to whom I have given myself, that I do not believe He will permit me to be s.n.a.t.c.hed from Him, so long as my will does not consent." Esclairmonde faltered a moment, as she remembered her wavering, crossed her hands on her breast, and e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed, "May He deal mercifully with me! Yet it may be at an exceeding cost-at that of all my cherished schemes, of all that was pride and self-seeking. Alice, look not so terrified. Nothing can be done immediately, or with violence, in this first mourning for the King; and I trust to make use of the time to disguise me, and escape to England, where I may keep my vow as anch.o.r.ess, or as lay sister. Let me keep that, and my self-exalting schemes shall be all put by!"
The question whether this should be to England, or to the southern parts of France held by the Armagnacs, remained for decision, as opportunity should direct: Alice constantly urging her own scheme of carrying her friend with her as her tire-woman, if, as seemed likely, she were sent home; and Esclairmonde refusing to consent to anything that might bring the bride into troubles with her father and husband; and the debates being only interrupted when the Lady Montagu was required to take her turn among the weary ladies-in-waiting around Catherine"s state bed.
Whenever she was not required to control, console, or persuade the Queen, Esclairmonde spent most of her time in a chamber apart from the chatter of Jaqueline"s little court, where she was weaving, in the delicate point-lace work she had learnt in her Flemish convent, an exquisite robe, such as were worn by priests at Ma.s.s. She seldom worked, save for the poor; but she longed to do some honour to the one man who would have promoted her nearly vanished scheme, and this work she trusted to offer for a vestment to be used at his burial Ma.s.s. Many a cherished plan was resigned, many an act of self-negation uttered, as she bent over the dainty web; many an entreaty breathed, that her moment"s wandering of fancy might not be reckoned against her, but that she might be aided to keep the promise of her infancy, and devote herself undivided to the direct service of G.o.d and of His poor, be it in ever so humble a station.
Here she sat alone, when steps approached, the door opened, and of all people he stood before her whom she least wished to see, the young Lord of Glenuskie.
Amazed as she was, she betrayed no confusion, and merely rose, saying quietly, "This is an error. I will show you Madame"s apartment."
But Malcolm, who had begun by looking far more confused than she, cried earnestly, "One moment, lady. I came not willingly; the Countess sent for me to her. But since I am here-listen while Heaven gives me strength to say it-I will trouble you never again. I am come to a better mind. Oh, forgive me!"
"What are you here then for, Sir?" said Esclairmonde, with the same defensive dignity.
"My king sent me, against my will, on a mission to the Queen," panted Malcolm. "I am forced to wait here; or, lady, I should have been this day doing penance for my pursuit of you. Verily I am a penitent. Mayhap Heaven will forgive me, if you will."
"If I understand you aright, it is well," said Esclairmonde, still gravely and doubtfully.
"It is so indeed," protested Malcolm, with a terrible wrench to his heart, yet a sensation of freeing his conscience. "Fear me no longer now. After that which I saw at Vincennes, I know what it is to be on the straight path, and-oh! what it is to have fallen from it. How could I dream of dragging you down to be with one so unworthy, becoming more worthless each day? Lady, if I never see you more, pardon me, pray for me, as a saint for a poor outcast on earth!"
"Hush," said Esclairmonde; "I am no saint-only a maiden pledged. But, Sir, I thank you fervently. You have lightened my heart of one of my fears."
Malcolm could not but be cheered by being for once spoken to by her in so friendly a tone; and he added, gravely and resolutely: "My suit, then, I yield up, lady-yield for ever. Am I permitted once to kiss that fair and holy hand, as I resign my presumptuous hopes thereof?"
"Mayhap it were wiser left undone," said Esclairmonde. "My mind misgives me that this meeting is planned to bring us into trouble. Farewell, my lord."
As she had apprehended, the door was flung back, and Countess Jaqueline rushed in, clasping her hands in an affectation of merry surprise, as she cried, "Here they are! See, Monseigneur! No keeping doves apart!"
"Madame," said Esclairmonde, turning on her with cold dignity, "I have been thanking Monsieur de Glenuskie for having resigned the suit that I always declared to be in vain."
"You misunderstood, Clairette," said Jaqueline. "No gentleman ever so spoke! No, no; my young lord has kept his promise to me, and I will not fail him."
"Madame," faltered Malcolm, "I came by command of the King of Scots."
"So much the better," cried Jaqueline. "So he can play into our hands, for all his grandeur! It will lose him his wager, though! Here is bride-there is priest-nay, bishop!" pointing to him of Therouenne, who had accompanied her, but hitherto had stood silent.
"Madame," said Malcolm, "the time and state of the household forbid."
"Ma foi! What is that to us? King Henry is neither our brother nor our father; and Catherine will soon laugh at it as a good joke."
"Nay," said the Bishop, with more propriety, "it is the contract and troth-plight alone that could take place at present. That secure, the full solemnities will await a fitting time; but it is necessary that the troth be exchanged at once."
"Monseigneur," said Esclairmonde, "mine is in other keeping."
"And, Monseigneur," added Malcolm, "I have just told the lady that I repent of having fallen from my vocation, and persecuted her."
"How, Sir!" said the Bishop, turning on him; "do you thus lightly treat a lady of the house of Luxemburg? Beware! There are those who know how to visit an insult on a malapert lad, who meddles with the honour of the family."
"Be not threatened, Lord Malcolm," said Esclairmonde, with a gleam in her eye.
And Malcolm was Stewart enough to answer with spirit: "My lord, I will meet them if needed. This lady is so affianced, that it is sacrilege to aspire to her."
"Ah!" said the Bishop, in an audible aside to the giggling Countess: "this comes of her having thrown herself at the youth"s head. Now he will no more of her."
Crimson with wrath, and also with a wild sense of hope that the obligation had become absolute, Malcolm made a vehement incoherent exclamation; but Esclairmonde retained her composure.
"Monseigneur and Madame both know better," she said. "This is but another menace."
"Peace, minion," said the Bishop of Therouenne, "and listen to me. If this young gentleman, after professing himself willing to wed you, now draws back, so much the worse for him. But if you terrify him out of it with your humours, then will my brother St. Pol and the Duke of Burgundy soon be here, with no King of England to meddle; and by St. Adrian, Sir Boemond will be daunted by no airs, like Monsieur there. A bride shall you be, Esclairmonde de Luxemburg, ere the week is out, if not to Monsieur de Glenuskie, to the Chevalier Boemond de Bourgogne."
"Look not at me," said Jaqueline. "I am weary of your contumacy. All I shall do is to watch you well. I"ve suspected for some days that you were concocting mischief with the little Montagu; but you"ll not escape again, as when I was fool enough to help you."
The two stood a few paces apart, where they had been discovered; Esclairmonde"s eyes were closed, her hands clasped, as if in silent prayer for aid.
"Girl-your choice!" said the Bishop, peremptorily. "Wedlock on the spot to this gentleman, or to Sir Boemond a week hence."
Esclairmonde was very white.
"My will shall not consent to a present breach of vow to save a future one," she said, in a scarce audible voice.
A sudden thought darted into Malcolm"s mind. With colour flooding his face to his very temples, he stepped nearer to her, and said, in a tremulous under-tone, "Lady, trust me."
The Bishop withheld Jaqueline almost by force, so soon as he saw that the pair were whispering together, and that there was something of relaxation in Esclairmonde"s face as she looked up at him in silent interrogation.
He spoke low, but solemnly and imploringly. "Trust me with your plight, lady, and I will restore it when you are free."
Hardly able to speak, she however murmured, "You will indeed do this?"
"So help me Heaven!" he said, and his eyes grew large and bright; he held his head with the majesty of his race.
"Heaven has sent you," said Esclairmonde, with a long sigh, and holding out her hand to him, as though therewith she conferred a high-souled woman"s full trust.
And Malcolm took it with a strange pang of pain and exultation at the heart. The trust was won, but the hope of earthly joy was gone for ever.
The Countess broke out with a shout of triumph: "There, there! they have come to reason at last. There"s an end of her folly."