The White Lady of Hazelwood Part 30

"But wherefore, when the matter was by--"

Lady Ba.s.set answered with a bitter little laugh, which reminded Perrote of her mother's.

"Because he loved Jean de Montfort, and she thwarted _him_, not the Damoiselle. He loved Alix de Ponteallen pa.s.sionately, and pa.s.sion dies; 'tis its nature. It is not pa.s.sionately, but undyingly, that he loves himself. Men do; 'tis their nature."

Perrote shrewdly guessed that the remark had especial reference to one man, and that not the Duke of Bretagne.

"Ah, that is the nature of all sinners," she said, "and therefore of all men and women also. Dame, will you hearken to your old nurse, and grant her one boon?"

"That will I, Perrotine, if it be in my power. I grant not so many boons, neither can I, that I should grudge one to mine old nurse. What wouldst?"

"Dame, I pray you write a letter to my Lord Duke, the pitifullest you may pen, and send one of your men therewith, to pray him, as he loveth you, or her, or G.o.d, that he will come and look on her ere she die.

Tell him his old nurse full lovingly entreateth him, and if he will so do, I will take veil when my Lady is gone hence, and spend four nights in the week in prayer for his welfare. Say I will be his bedes-woman for ever, in any convent he shall name. Say anything that will bring him!"

"I pa.s.sed thee my word, and I will keep it," said Lady Ba.s.set, as she rose. "But if I know him, what I should say certainly to bring him would be that Sir Oliver de Clisson lay here in dungeon, and that if he would come he should see his head strake off in yonder court. He is a fair lover, my brother; but he is a far better hater."

Perrote sighed.

"Amphillis!" came faintly up the stairs and along the gallery.

"Am-phil-lis!"

"Go, child," said Perrote, replying to a look from Amphillis. "'Tis Agatha calling thee. What would the foolish maid?"

Amphillis left her work upon the bench and ran down.

"Well, it is merry matter to catch hold of thee!" said Agatha, who was waiting at the foot of the stairs, and who never could recollect, unless Lady Foljambe were present, that Amphillis was to be addressed with more reverence than before. "Here be friends of thine come to visit thee."

"Friends!--of mine!" exclaimed Amphillis, in surprise. "Why, I haven't any friends."

"Well, enemies, then," said Agatha, with a giggle. "Come, go into hall and see who they be, and then tell me."

Amphillis obeyed, and to her still greater surprise, found herself in the presence of Mr Altham and Regina.

"Ah, here she cometh!" was her uncle's greeting. "Well, my maid, I am fain to see thee so well-looking, I warrant thee. Can'st love a new aunt, thinkest?"

"That am I secure," replied Amphillis, smiling, and kissing the goldsmith's daughter.

"And an old uncle belike?" pursued Mr Altham, kissing her in his turn.

"a.s.suredly, dear Uncle; but I pray, how came you hither?"

"Dat shall I tell you," said Mrs Altham, "for oderwise you shall not know what good uncle you have. He promise to take me to mine own home in Dutchland, to see my greatmoder and mine aunts; and when we nigh ready were, he say, 'See you, now! shall we not go round by Derbyshire, to see Amphillis, and sail from Hull?' So we come round all dis way; he miss you so, and want to make him sure you be well and kindly used. See you?"

"How kind and good are you both!" said Amphillis, gratefully. "Pray you, good Aunt Regina, came Ricarda home safe?"

"She came safe, and she had but de scold well, tanks to your message; if not, she had de beat, beat, I ensure you, and she deserve dat full well.

She was bad girl, bad. Said I not to you, De mans is bad, and de womans is badder? It is true."

"She's a weary hussy!" said Mr Altham; "but she's been a sight better maid sithence she came back. She saith 'tis thy doing, Phyllis."

"Mine?" exclaimed Amphillis.

"She saith so. I wis not how. And art happy here, my maid? Doth thy dame entreat thee well? and be thy fellows pleasant company? Because if no, there's room for thee in the patty-shop, I can tell thee.

Saundrina's wed, and Ricarda looks to be, and my wife and I should be full fain to have thee back for our daughter. Howbeit, if thou art here welsome and comfortable, we will not carry thee off against thy will.

What sayest?"

"Truly, dear Uncle, I am here full welsome, saving some small matters of little moment; and under your good pleasure, I would fain not go hence so long as one liveth that is now sore sick in this house, and nigh to death. Afterward, if it like you to dispose of me otherwise, I am alway at your bidding."

"Well said. But what should best like thee?"

Amphillis felt the question no easy one. She would not wish to leave Perrote; but if Perrote took the veil, that obstacle would be removed; and even if she did not, Amphillis had no certain chance of accompanying her wherever she might go, which would not improbably be to Drayton Manor. To leave the rest of her present companions would be no hardship at all, except--

Amphillis's heart said "except," and her conscience turned away and declined to pursue that road. Norman Hylton had shown no preference for her beyond others, so far as she knew, and her maidenly instinct warned her that even her thoughts had better be kept away from him. Before she answered, a shadow fell between her and the light; and Amphillis looked up into the kindly face of Archbishop Neville.

The Archbishop had delayed his further journey for the sake of the dying Countess, whom he wished to see again, especially if his influence could induce her son to come to her. He now addressed himself to Mr Altham.

"Master Altham, as I guess?" he asked, pleasantly.

Mr Altham rose, as in duty bound, in honour to a priest, and a priest who, as he dimly discerned by his canonicals, was not altogether a common one.

"He, and your humble servant, holy Father."

"You be uncle, I count, of my cousin Amphillis here?"

"Sir! Amphillis your cousin!"

"Amphillis is my cousin," was the quiet answer; "and I am the Archbishop of York."

To say that Mr Altham was struck dumb with amazement would be no figure of speech. He stared from the Archbishop to Amphillis, and back again, as if his astonishment had fairly paralysed his powers, that of sight only excepted; and had not Regina roused him from his condition of helplessness by an exclamation of "_Ach, heilige, Maria_!" there is no saying how long he might have stood so doing.

"Ay, Uncle," said Amphillis, with a smile; "this is my Lord elect of York, and he is pleased to say that my father was his kinsman."

"And if it serve you, Master Altham," added the Archbishop, "I would fain have a privy word with you touching this my cousin."

Mr Altham's reply was two-fold. "Saints worshipped might they be!" was meant in answer to Amphillis. Then, to the Archbishop, he hastily continued, "Sir, holy Father, your Grace's most humble servant! I hold myself at your Grace's bidding, whensoever it shall please your Grace."

"That is well," said the Archbishop, smiling. "We will have some talk this evening, if it serve you."

CHAPTER SIXTEEN.

THE REQUEST GRANTED.

"It is not love that steals the heart from love: 'Tis the hard world, and its perplexing cares; Its petrifying selfishness, its pride, its low ambition, and its paltry aims."

Caroline Bowles.