Dorothy Vernon of Haddon Hall Part 50

You, if you are a man, may think that in my place you would have resisted the attack of this beautiful queen, but if so you think--pardon me, my friend--you are a fool. Under the spell of her magic influence I wavered in the conviction which had long since come upon me, that I had for years been her fool and her dupe. I forgot the former lessons I had learned from her perfidy. I forgot my manhood. I forgot all of good that had of late grown up in me. G.o.d help me, I forgot even Madge.

"If I could only believe you, Mary," I answered, growing insane under the influence of her fascinations, "If I could only believe you."

"Give me your lips, Malcolm," she whispered, "give me your lips.--Again, my Malcolm.--Ah, now you believe me."

The lying logic of a wanton kiss is irresistible. I was drunk and, alas! I was convinced. When I think of that time, Samson is my only comfort--Samson and a few hundred million other fools, who like Samson and me have been wheedled, kissed, and duped into misery and ruin.

I said: "I do believe you, Mary. I beg you to forgive me for having doubted you. You have been traduced and brutally misused."

"It is sweet to hear you speak those words. But it is better to think that at last we have come together with nothing to part us save that I am a prisoner in the hands of my vindictive, jealous cousin. I thank G.o.d that my kingdom of Scotland has been taken from me. I ever hated the Scots.

They are an ignorant, unkempt, wry-necked, stubborn, filthy race. But, above all, my crown stood between you and me. I may now be a woman, and were it not for Elizabeth, you and I could yet find solace in each other for all our past sufferings. Malcolm, I have a sweet thought. If I could escape to fair, beautiful France, all would be happiness for us. You could claim your mother's estates in the balmy south, and we might live upon them. Help me, my Malcolm, to escape, and your reward shall be greater and sweeter than man ever before received from woman."

I struggled against her blandishments for a moment, but I was lost.

"You shall escape and I will go with you," said I. Man needs to make but one little prayer to G.o.d, "Lead me not into temptation." That prayer answered, all else of good will follow.

The morning sun had just begun to rise over Bowling Green Hill and the shadows of the night were fleeing before his lances, when our cavalcade entered the grounds of Haddon at the dove-cote. If there were two suns revolving about the earth, one to shine upon us by night and one by day, much evil would be averted. Men do evil in the dark because others cannot see them; they think evil in the dark because they cannot see themselves.

With the first faint gray of dawn there came to me thoughts of Madge. I had forgotten her, but her familiar spirit, the light, brought me back to its fair mistress.

When our coach reached the stone bridge I looked up to the Hall and saw Madge standing at the open cas.e.m.e.nt of the tower window. She had been watching there all night, I learned, hoping for our speedy and safe return, and had been warned of our approach by the noise of the tramping guard. I drew back from the coach window, feeling that I was an evil shade slinking away before the spirit of light.

CHAPTER XV

LIGHT

Dorothy had awakened while we were entering Rowsley, and I was glad that Mary could not touch me again.

When our coach reached the stone steps of the entrance tower we found Sir George, Lady Crawford, and Madge waiting to receive us. The steps and the path leading to them had been carpeted with soft rugs, and Mary, although a prisoner, was received with ceremonies befitting her rank. It was a proud day for Sir George when the roof of his beautiful Hall sheltered the two most famous queens of christendom.

Sir George a.s.sisted Mary from the coach most graciously, and in knightly fashion led her to Lady Crawford and Madge, who were standing at the foot of the tower steps. Due presentations were made, and the ladies of Haddon having kissed the queen's hand, Mary went into the Hall upon the arm of his Majesty, the King of the Peak, who stepped forward most proudly.

His resentment against Dorothy was for the moment neutralized by the great honor of which his house and himself were the recipients.

John and Lord Rutland were taken to the dungeon.

I a.s.sisted Dorothy from the coach and led her to Madge, who was waiting for us upon the lowest of the steps leading to the entrance tower doorway.

Dorothy took Madge's outstretched hand; but Madge, by some strange instinct, knowing of my presence, turned her face toward me. I could not lift my eyes to her face, nor could I endure to remain in her presence.

While we were ascending the steps she held out her hand to me and said:--

"Is all well with you, Malcolm?" Her voice was full of tender concern, and it pained me to the heart to hear her speak kindly to me, who was so unworthy of her smallest thought.

"Yes, Lady--yes, Madge," I responded; but she knew from the tones of my voice that all was not right with me.

"I fear, Malcolm, that you do not tell me the truth. You will come to me soon?" she asked.

"I may not be able to go to you soon," I answered, "but I will do so at the first opportunity."

The torture of her kindness was almost unbearable to me. One touch of her hand, one tone of her rare voice, had made me loathe myself. The powers of evil cannot stand for one moment in a fair conflict with the powers of good. I felt that I, alone, was to blame for my treason to Madge; but despite my effort at self-condemnation there was an under-consciousness that Mary Stuart was to blame, and I hated her accordingly. Although Madge's presence hurt me, it was not because I wished to conceal my conduct from her. I knew that I could be happy again only after I had confessed to her and had received forgiveness.

Madge, who was blind of sight, led Dorothy, who was piteously blind of soul, and the two girls went to their apartments.

Curiosity is not foreign even to the royal female breast, and while Mary Stuart was entering Haddon Hall, I saw the luminous head of the Virgin Queen peeked out at a cas.e.m.e.nt on the second floor watching her rival with all the curiosity of a Dutch woman sitting by her window mirror.

I went to my room in Eagle Tower, fell upon my bed, and abandoned myself to an anguish of soul which was almost luxurious. I shall not tease you with the details of my mental and moral processes. I hung in the balance a long time undetermined what course I should pursue. The difference between the influence of Mary and the effect wrought by Madge was the difference between the intoxication and the exhilaration of wine. Following the intoxication of Mary's presence ever came a torturing reaction, while the exhilarating influence of Madge gave health and strength. I chose the latter. I have always been glad I reached that determination without the aid of any impulse outside of myself; for events soon happened which again drove all faith in Mary from my heart forever. Those events would have forced me to abandon my trust in her; but mind you, I took my good resolve from inclination rather than necessity before I learned of Mary's perfidy.

The events of the night had exhausted Dorothy, and she was confined to her bed by illness for the first time in her life. She believed that she was dying, and she did not want to live. I did not go to her apartments. Madge remained with her, and I, coward-like, feared to face the girl to whom I had been untrue.

Dorothy's one and only desire, of course, was to see John, but that desire for a time seemed impossible of accomplishment.

Elizabeth, Cecil, Leicester, and Sir William St. Loe were in secret consultation many times during three or four days and nights. Occasionally Sir George was called into their councils, and that flattering attention so wrought upon the old man's pride that he was a slave to the queen's slightest wish, and was more tyrannical and dictatorial than ever before to all the rest of mankind. There were, however, two persons besides the queen before whom Sir George was gracious: one of these was Mary Stuart, whose powers of fascination had been brought to bear upon the King of the Peak most effectively. The other was Leicester, to whom, as my cousin expressed it, he hoped to dispose of that troublesome and disturbing body--Dorothy. These influences, together with the fact that his enemies of Rutland were in the Haddon dungeon, had given Sir George a spleen-vent, and Dorothy, even in the face of her father's discovery that Manners was her mysterious lover, had for once a respite from Sir George's just and mighty wrath.

The purpose of Elizabeth's many councils of war was to devise some means of obtaining from John and his father, information concerning the plot, which had resulted in bringing Mary Stuart into England. The ultimate purpose of Mary's visit, Elizabeth's counsellors firmly believed to be the dethronement of the English queen and the enthronement of her Scottish cousin. Elizabeth, in her heart, felt confident that John and his father were not parties to the treasonable plot, although she had been warned against each of them. Cecil and Sir William St. Loe also secretly held to that opinion, though neither of them expressed it, Elizabeth was conscious of having given to John while at London court an intimation that she would be willing that Mary should visit England. Of such intimation Cecil and Sir William had no knowledge, though they, together with many persons of the Court, believed that Elizabeth was not entirely averse to Mary's presence.

Lord Rutland and John were questioned by Cecil in the hope of obtaining some hints which might lead to the detection of those concerned in the chief plot, provided such plot existed. But Lord Rutland knew nothing of the affair except that John had brought the Scottish queen from Scotland, and John persisted in the statement that he had no confederate and that he knew nothing of any plot to place Mary upon the English throne.

John said: "I received from Queen Mary's friends in Scotland letters asking me to meet her on the border, and requesting me to conduct her to my father's castle. Those letters mentioned no Englishman but myself, and they stated that Queen Mary's flight to England was to be undertaken with the tacit consent of our gracious queen. That fact, the letters told me, our queen wished should not be known. There were reasons of state, the letters said, which made it impolitic for our queen openly to invite Queen Mary to seek sanctuary in England. I received those letters before I left Westminster. Upon the day when I received them, I heard our gracious queen say that she would gladly invite Queen Mary to England, were it not for the fact that such an invitation would cause trouble between her and the regent, Murray. Her Majesty at the same time intimated that she would be glad if Mary Stuart should come to England uninvited." John turned to Elizabeth, "I beg your Majesty, in justice, to ratify my words." Elizabeth hesitated for a moment after John's appeal; but her love of justice came to her rescue and she hung her head as she said, "You are right, Sir John." Then she looked her counsellors in the face and said, "I well remember that I so expressed myself."

"In truth," said John, "I having only an hour before received the letter from Scotland, believed that your Majesty's words were meant for my ear. I felt that your Majesty knew of the letters, and I thought that I should be carrying out your royal wishes should I bring Queen Mary into England without your knowledge."

The queen responded: "I then felt that I wished Queen Mary to seek refuge in my kingdom, but so many untoward events have transpired since I spoke on the subject at Westminster that I have good cause to change my mind, though I easily understand how you might have been misled by my words."

"I am sure," replied John, "that your Majesty has had good cause to change your mind; but I protest in all sincerity that I considered the Scottish letters to be a command from my queen."

Elizabeth was a strange combination of paradoxes. No one could be truer than she to a fixed determination once taken. No one could be swayed by doubt so easily as she to change her mind sixty times in the s.p.a.ce of a minute. During one moment she was minded to liberate John and Lord Rutland; in the next she determined to hold them in prison, hoping to learn from them some substantial fact concerning the plot which, since Mary's arrival in England, had become a nightmare to her. But, with all her vagaries the Virgin Queen surely loved justice. That quality, alone, makes a sovereign great. Elizabeth, like her mother, Anne Boleyn, had great faith in her personal beauty; like her father, she had unbounded confidence in her powers of mind. She took great pride in the ease with which she controlled persons. She believed that no one was so adroit as Elizabeth Tudor in extracting secrets from others, and in unravelling mysterious situations, nor so cunning in hunting out plots and in running down plotters. In all such matters she delighted to act secretly and alone.

During the numerous councils held at Haddon, Elizabeth allowed Cecil to question John to his heart's content; but while she listened she formulated a plan of her own which she was sure would be effective in extracting all the truth from John, if all the truth had not already been extracted. Elizabeth kept her cherished plan to herself. It was this:--

She would visit Dorothy, whom she knew to be ill, and would by her subtle art steal from John's sweetheart all that the girl knew of the case. If John had told Dorothy part of the affair concerning Mary Stuart, he had probably told her all, and Elizabeth felt confident that she could easily pump the girl dry. She did not know Dorothy. Accordingly our queen, Elizabeth, the adroit, went to Dorothy's room under the pretence of paying the girl a gracious visit. Dorothy wished to arise and receive her royal guest, but Elizabeth said gently:--

"Do not arise, Dorothy; rest quietly, and I will sit here beside you on the bed. I have come to tell you that you must recover your health at once. We miss you greatly in the Hall."

No one could be more gracious than Elizabeth when the humor was upon her; though, in truth, the humor was often lacking.

"Let us send all save you and me from the room," said the queen, "that we may have a quiet little chat together."

All who were in the room save Dorothy and Elizabeth of course departed at once.

When the door was closed, the queen said: "I wish to thank you for telling me of the presence of her Scottish Majesty at Rutland. You know there is a plot on foot to steal my throne from me."

"G.o.d forbid that there should be such a plot," replied Dorothy, resting upon her elbow in the bed.

"I fear it is only too true that there is such a plot," returned Elizabeth, "and I owe you a great debt of grat.i.tude for warning me of the Scottish queen's presence in my kingdom."