The Last of the Barons — Complete by Baron Edward Bulwer Lytton Lytton (reading an ebook .TXT) 📖

Katherine paused, and tears dropped fast from her eyes. Hastings held his hand over his countenance, and only by the heaving of his heart was his emotion visible. Katherine resumed:—

“Once wedded, I knew what became a wife. We met again; and to thy first disdain and anger (which it had been dishonour in me to soothe by one word that said, ‘The wife remembers the maiden’s love’),—to these, thy first emotions, succeeded the more cruel revenge, which would have changed sorrow and struggle to remorse and shame. And then, then—weak woman that I was!—I wrapped myself in scorn and pride. Nay, I felt deep anger—was it unjust?—that thou couldst so misread and so repay the heart which had nothing left save virtue to compensate for love. And yet, yet, often when thou didst deem me most hard, most proof against memory and feeling—But why relate the trial? Heaven supported me, and if thou lovest me no longer, thou canst not despise me.”

At these last words Hastings was at her feet, bending over her hand, and stifled by his emotions. Katherine gazed at him for a moment through her own tears, and then resumed:—

“But thou hadst, as man, consolations no woman would desire or covet. And oh, what grieved me most was, not—no, not the jealous, the wounded vanity, but it was at least this self-accusation, this remorse—that—but for one goading remembrance, of love returned and love forsaken,—thou hadst never so descended from thy younger nature, never so trifled with the solemn trust of TIME. Ah, when I have heard or seen or fancied one fault in thy maturer manhood, unworthy of thy bright youth, anger of myself has made me bitter and stern to thee; and if I taunted or chid or vexed thy pride, how little didst thou know that through the too shrewish humour spoke the too soft remembrance! For this—for this; and believing that through all, alas! my image was not replaced, when my hand was free, I was grateful that I might still—” (the lady’s pale cheek grew brighter than the rose, her voice faltered, and became low and indistinct)—“I might still think it mine to atone to thee for the past. And if,” she added, with a sudden and generous energy, “if in this I have bowed my pride, it is because by pride thou wert wounded; and now, at last, thou hast a just revenge.”

O terrible rival for thee, lost Sibyll! Was it wonderful that, while that head drooped upon his breast, while in that enchanted change which Love the softener makes in lips long scornful, eyes long proud and cold, he felt that Katherine Nevile—tender, gentle, frank without boldness, lofty without arrogance—had replaced the austere dame of Bonville, whom he half hated while he wooed,—oh, was it wonderful that the soul of Hastings fled back to the old time, forgot the intervening vows and more chill affections, and repeated only with passionate lips, “Katherine, loved still, loved ever, mine, mine, at last!”

Then followed delicious silence, then vows, confessions, questions, answers,—the thrilling interchange of hearts long divided, and now rushing into one. And time rolled on, till Katherine, gently breaking from her lover, said,—

“And now that thou hast the right to know and guide my projects, approve, I pray thee, my present purpose. War awaits thee, and we must part a while!” At these words her brow darkened and her lip quivered. “Oh, that I should have lived to mourn the day when Lord Warwick, untrue to Salisbury and to York, joined his arms with Lancaster and Margaret,—the day when Katherine could blush for the brother she had deemed the glory of her House! No, no” (she continued, as Hastings interrupted her with generous excuses for the earl, and allusion to the known slights he had received),—“no, no; make not his cause the worse by telling me that an unworthy pride, the grudge of some thwart to his policy or power, has made him forget what was due to the memory of his kinsman York, to the mangled corpse of his father Salisbury. Thinkest thou that but for this I could—” She stopped, but Hastings divined her thought, and guessed that, if spoken, it had run thus: “That I could, even now, have received the homage of one who departs to meet, with banner and clarion, my brother as his foe?”

The lovely sweetness of the late expression had gone from Katherine’s face, and its aspect showed that her high and ancestral spirit had yielded but to one passion. She pursued,—

“While this strife lasts, it becomes my widowhood and kindred position with the earl to retire to the convent my mother founded. To-morrow I depart.”

“Alas!” said Hastings, “thou speakest of the strife as if but a single field. But Warwick returns not to these shores, nor bows himself to league with Lancaster, for a chance hazardous and desperate, as Edward too rashly deems it. It is in vain to deny that the earl is prepared for a grave and lengthened war, and much I doubt whether Edward can resist his power; for the idolatry of the very land will swell the ranks of so dread a rebel. What if he succeed; what if we be driven into exile, as Henry’s friends before us; what if the king-maker be the king-dethroner? Then, Katherine, then once more thou wilt be at the best of thy hostile kindred, and once more, dowered as thou art, and thy womanhood still in its richest bloom, thy hand will be lost to Hastings.”

“Nay, if that be all thy fear, take with thee this pledge,—that Warwick’s treason to the House for which my father fell dissolves his power over one driven to disown him as a brother,—knowing Earl Salisbury, had he foreseen such disgrace, had disowned him as a son. And if there be defeat and flight and exile, wherever thou wanderest, Hastings, shall Katherine be found beside thee. Fare thee well, and Our Lady shield thee! may thy lance be victorious against all foes,—save one. Thou wilt forbear my—that is, the earl!” And Katherine, softened at that thought, sobbed aloud.

“And come triumph or defeat, I have thy pledge?” said Hastings, soothing her.

“See,” said Katherine, taking the broken ring from the casket; “now, for the first time since I bore the name of Bonville, I lay this relic on my heart; art thou answered?”