Unknown to History: A Story of the Captivity of Mary of Scotland by Yonge (best book club books for discussion TXT) 📖

young gentleman to deliver to this young lady, with his humble suit that he may pay his devoirs to her to-morrow, your Grace permitting."

"I knew not," said Mary, "that my women had license to receive visitors."

"Assuredly not, as a rule, but this young gentleman, Mr. Babington of Dethick, has my Lord and Lady of Shrewsbury's special commendation."

"I knew the young man," said Mary, with perfectly acted heedlessness. "He was my Lady Shrewsbury's page in his boyhood. I should have no objection to receive him."

"That, madam, may not be," returned Sadler. "I am sorry to say it is contrary to the orders of the council, but if Mr. and Mrs. Curll, and the fair Mistress Cicely, will do me the honour to dine with me to-morrow in the hall, we may bring about the auspicious meeting my Lady desires."

Cicely's first impulse had been to pout and say she wanted none of Mr. Babington's tokens, nor his company; but her mother's eye held her back, and besides any sort of change of scene, or any new face, could not but be delightful, so there was a certain leap of the young heart when the invitation was accepted for her; and she let Sir Ralf put the token into her hand, and a choice one it was. Everybody pressed to look at it, while she stood blushing, coy and unwilling to display the small egg-shaped watch of the kind recently invented at Nuremberg. Sir Ralf observed that the young lady showed a comely shamefast maidenliness, and therewith bowed himself out of the room.

Cicely laughed with impatient scorn. "Well spoken, reverend seignior," she said, as she found herself alone with the Queen. "I wish my Lady Countess would leave me alone. I am none of hers."

"Nay, mademoiselle, be not thus disdainful," said the Queen, in a gay tone of banter; "give me here this poor token that thou dost so despise, when many a maiden would be distraught with delight and gratitude. Let me see it, I say."

And as Cicely, restraining with difficulty an impatient, uncourtly gesture, placed the watch in her hand, her delicate deft fingers opened the case, disregarding both the face and the place for inserting the key; but dealing with a spring, which revealed that the case was double, and that between the two thin plates of silver which formed it, was inserted a tiny piece of the thinnest paper, written from corner to corner with the smallest characters in cipher. Mary laughed joyously and triumphantly as she held it up. "There, mignonne! What sayest thou to thy token now? This is the first secret news I have had from the outer world since we came to this weary Tutbury. And oh! the exquisite jest that my Lady and Sir Ralf Sadler should be the bearers! I always knew some good would come of that suitor of thine! Thou must not flout him, my fair lady, nor scowl at him so with thy beetle brows."

"It seems but hard to lure him on with false hopes," said Cicely, gravely.

"Hoots, lassie," as Dame Jean would say, "'tis but joy and delight to men to be thus tickled. 'Tis the greatest kindness we can do them thus to amuse them," said Mary, drawing up her head with the conscious fascination of the serpent of old Nile, and toying the while with the ciphered letter, in eagerness, and yet dread, of what it might contain.

Such things were not easy to make out, even to those who had the key, and Mary, unwilling to trust it out of her own hands, leant over it, spelling it out for many minutes, but at last broke forth into a clear ringing burst of girlish laughter and clasped her hands together, "Mignonne, mignonne, it is too rare a jest to hold back. Deem not that your Highness stands first here! Oh no! 'Tis a letter from Bernardo de Mendoza with a proposition for whose hand thinkest thou? For this poor old captive hand! For mine, maiden. Ay, and from whom? From his Excellency, the Prince of Parma, Lieutenant of the Netherlands. Anon will he be here with 30,000 picked men and the Spanish fleet; and then I shall ride once again at the head of my brave men, hear trumpets bray, and see banners fly! We will begin to work our banner at once, child, and let Sir Ralf think it is a bed-quilt for her sacred Majesty, Elizabeth. Thou look'st dismayed, little maiden."

"Spanish ships and men, madam, ah! and how would it be with my father—Mr. and Mrs. Talbot, I mean?"

"Not a hair of their heads shall be touched, child. We will send down a chosen troop to protect them, with Babington at its head if thou wilt. But," added the Queen, recollecting herself, and perceiving that she had startled and even shocked her daughter, "it is not to be to-morrow, nor for many a weary month. All that is here demanded is whether, all being well, he might look for my hand as his guerdon. Shall I propose thine instead?"

"O madam, he is an old man and full of gout!"

"Well! we will not pull caps for him just yet. And see, thou must be secret as the grave, child, or thou wilt ruin thy mother. I ought not to have told thee, but the surprise was too much for me, and thou canst keep a secret. Leave me now, child, and send me Monsieur Nau."

The next time any converse was held between mother and daughter, Queen Mary said, "Will it grieve thee much, my lassie, to return this bauble, on the plea of thy duty to the good couple at Bridgefield?"

After all Cicely had become so fond of the curious and ingenious egg that she was rather sorry to part with it, and there was a little dismal resignation in her answer, "I will do your bidding, madam."

"Thou shalt have a better. I will write to Chateauneuf for the choicest that Paris can furnish," said Mary, "but seest thou, none other mode is so safe for conveying an answer to this suitor of mine! Nay, little one, do not fear. He is not at hand, and if he be so gout-ridden and stern as I have heard, we will find some way to content him and make him do the service without giving thee a stepfather, even though he be grandson to an emperor."

There was something perplexing and distressing to Cis in this sudden mood of exultation at such a suitor. However, Parma's proposal might mean liberty and a recovered throne, and who could wonder at the joy that even the faintest gleam of light afforded to one whose captivity had lasted longer than Cicely's young life?—and then once more there was an alternation of feeling at the last moment, when Cicely, dressed in her best, came to receive instructions.

"I ken not, I ken not," said Mary, speaking the Scottish tongue, to which she recurred in her moments of deepest feeling, "I ought not to let it go. I ought to tell the noble Prince to have naught to do with a being like me. 'Tis not only the jettatura wherewith the Queen Mother used to reproach me. Men need but bear me good will, and misery overtakes them. Death is the best that befalls them! The gentle husband of my girlhood—then the frantic Chastelar, my poor, poor good Davie, Darnley, Bothwell, Geordie Douglas, young Willie, and again Norfolk, and the noble and knightly Don John! One spark of love and devotion to the wretched Mary, and all is over with them! Give me back that paper, child, and warn Babington against ever dreaming of aid to a wretch like me. I will perish alone! It is enough! I will drag down no more generous spirits in the whirlpool around me."

"Madam! madam!" exclaimed De Preaux the almoner, who was standing, "this is not like your noble self. Have you endured so much to be fainthearted when the end is near, and you are made a smooth and polished instrument, welded in the fire, for the triumph of the Church over her enemies?"

"Ah, Father!" said the Queen, "how should not my heart fail me when I think of the many high spirits who have fallen for my sake? Ay, and when I look out on yonder peaceful vales and happy homesteads, and think of them ravaged by those furious Spaniards and Italians, whom my brother of Anjou himself called very fiends!"

"Fiends are the tools of Divine wrath," returned Preaux. "Look at the profaned sanctuaries and outraged convents on which these proud English have waxen fat, and say whether a heavy retribution be not due to them."

"Ah, father! I may be weak, but I never loved persecution. King Francis and I were dragged to behold the executions at Amboise. That was enough for us. His gentle spirit never recovered it, and I—I see their contorted visages and forms still in my restless nights; and if the Spanish dogs should deal with England as with Haarlem or Antwerp, and all through me!—Oh! I should be happier dying within these walls!"

"Nay, madam, as Queen you would have the reins in your own hand: you could exercise what wholesome severity or well-tempered leniency you chose," urged the almoner; "it were ill requiting the favour of the saints who have opened this door to you at last to turn aside now in terror at the phantasy that long weariness of spirit hath conjured up before you."

So Mary rallied herself, and in five minutes more was as eager in giving her directions to Cicely and to the Curlls as though her heart had not recently failed her.

Cis was to go forth with her chaperons, not by any means enjoying the message to Babington, and yet unable to help being very glad to escape for ever so short a time from the dull prison apartments. There might be no great faith in her powers of diplomacy, but as it was probable that Babington would have more opportunity of conversing with her than with the Curlls, she was charged to attend heedfully to whatever he might say.

Sir Ralf's son-in-law, Mr. Somer, was sent to escort the trio to the hall at the hour of noon; and there, pacing the ample chamber, while the board at the upper end was being laid, were Sir Ralf Sadler and his guest Mr. Babington. Antony was dressed in green velvet slashed with primrose satin, setting off his good mien to the greatest advantage, and he came up with suppressed but rapturous eagerness, bowing low to Mrs. Curll and the secretary, but falling on his knee to kiss the hand of the dark-browed girl. Her recent courtly training made her much less rustically awkward than she would have been a few months before, but she was extremely stiff, and held her head as though her ruff were buckram, as she began her lesson. "Sir, I am greatly beholden to you for this token, but if it be not sent with the knowledge and consent of my honoured father and mother I may not accept of it."

"Alas! that you will say so, fair mistress," said Antony, but he was probably prepared for this rejection, for he did not seem utterly overwhelmed by it.

"The young lady exercises a wise discretion," said Sir Ralf Sadler to Mrs. Curll. "If I had known that mine old friend Mr. Talbot of Bridgefield was unfavourable to the suit, I would not have harboured the young spark, but when he brought my Lady Countess's commendation, I thought all was well."

Barbara Curll had her cue, namely, to occupy Sir Ralf so as to leave the young people to themselves, so she drew him off to tell him in confidence a long and not particularly veracious story of the objections of the Talbots to Antony Babington; whilst her husband engaged the attention of Mr. Somer, and there was a space in which, as Antony took back the watch, he was able to inquire "Was the egg-shell opened?"

"Ay," said Cis, blushing furiously and against her will, "the egg was sucked and replenished."

"Take consolation," said Antony, and as some one came near them, "Duty and discretion shall, I trust, both be satisfied when I next sun myself in the light of those lovely eyes." Then, as the coast became more clear, "You are about shortly to move. Chartley is preparing for you."

"So we are told."

"There are others preparing," said Antony, bending over her, holding her hand, and apparently making love to her with all