Bungay Castle: A Novel. v. 1. Bonhote Elizabeth
Madeline to return to the nunnery, whilst she observed with secret gratitude the gloom it threw on the countenances of her friends, it gave additional pangs to the feelings of her own heart; her spirits instantly deserted her, and tears of unfeigned regret marked the sad moment of departure. When she re-entered her solitary cell, she would sink into a despondency which the austere rules of the order was not likely to conquer.
The inhabitants of the castle and its environs were in themselves a little commonwealth, which contained a vast variety of characters. Men of different nations were met together, and, by the unaccountable effects of accident, ambition, or necessity, brought into the same habits, and lived cordially together, serving one master; and, united by one cause and interest, the utmost harmony prevailed among them; for Sir Philip de Morney was a just and active governor; gentle as the lamb and forgiving as mercy to the virtuous or injured, – but a terror and a stern master to the traitor or oppressor, whether friend or foe: he knew the importance of his situation, and how much the happiness of others depended on the careful and faithful discharge of those duties belonging to his high station, and intrusted to him by his noble friend the Earl of Norfolk; he therefore wisely and justly determined not to be biassed nor misled, either by the partiality or designs of other men, nor to suffer any prejudice to gain ascendancy over his mind in the rewards he bestowed, or the punishments which guilt would sometimes compel him to inflict.
CHAP. II
In the middle of a cold and inclement winter's night, when the wind blew with uncontrolable force, and the snow, rain, and hail beat with fury against the window, every instant breaking some of the few panes which admitted a scanty light into the interior apartments, and threatened to demolish those of the state-rooms, while nature appeared to shudder at this unusual warring of the elements, the centinels on guard were alarmed by a loud rapping at the western gate, and the rumbling of a carriage, with the clattering of horses' hoofs was distinctly heard. For some moments the people stood irresolute; at length one of the soldiers roughly inquired who it was wanted admittance at so unseasonable an hour, when only treason or treachery could be suspected.
A voice replied, "We are no traitors; we come with no hostile intentions, but have brought dispatches of the utmost importance to the governor, and must beg to be immediately admitted, as we are in danger of perishing from fatigue and the severity of the weather." This answer caused a general bustle; the governor was summoned, and the troops, lodged within the interior parts of the castle, ordered to arms before the gate was thrown open; nor were the strangers permitted to enter till their number was ascertained, and the soldiers prepared to oppose them should they have any bad designs to accomplish by this strange and suspicious visit; but the alarm soon subsided, and the soldiers almost tempted to laugh at their own fears, when they saw a carriage draw up to the gate, guarded by about twenty men, out of which they took a person who appeared quite passive, and was so muffled up, that, in the hurry which was made use of to convey him into the governor's apartment, it was impossible to discover either his age or person. The governor, after reading the dispatches, withdrew with the prisoner and two of the people, who appeared to have the command and direction of this mysterious expedition. —
Refreshments were ordered for the travellers, and beds made up for them in the barracks; but the governor had a long conference with the gentlemen before they separated. In the middle of the following night they departed from the castle with as much secrecy, and as little ceremony, as they had entered it, no one appearing desirous to develop the cause which brought them, or daring to ask any questions of the governor, in whose power alone it rested to satisfy their inquiries, as at this time civil commotions and private feuds between the contending nobles were continually arising to disturb the peace of society, and involve the nation in accumulating distresses; this strange visit was not only silently observed, but in a few weeks scarcely recollected, even by those who had witnessed it; and the guards, with only silent shrugs and significant looks, thought it fastest, wisest, and best, to perform with exact attention the discharge of their respective duties.
At this period of our tale, the joyous festival of Christmas was approaching – a festival which our old-fashioned forefathers welcomed with every mark of grateful and benevolent hospitality; and its arrival was beheld with as much complacent and cordial hilarity by the rich and great, as it was with delight and impatience by the poor and needy. While the holly and mistletoe decorated the kitchens, and the innocent joke went round, as the blushing maidens received the compliments and good wishes of the season, the loaded tables served still more to exhilirate their spirits, and even the stranger and the beggar were invited to taste the good things they enjoyed.
The youthful inhabitants of the castle began to reckon with eager and high-raised expectation the days, the hours, and even the minutes, which must pass away before the lovely Madeline, who had obtained permission of the abbess to spend the Christmas holidays at the castle, could join their party. Various plans of pleasure were formed, which they hoped would be productive of such amusements as would amply gratify their own wishes, and those of their expected visitors; for Agnes de Clifford, who was a boarder in the nunnery, was to accompany Madeline, by whom and Roseline she was much beloved. She was a lively interesting girl, about Miss de Morney's age, and, next Madeline, held the highest place in her regard.
In realty, the young people at the castle were as much confined as those in the nunnery from any intercourse with the world, Sir Philip de Morney having a decided aversion to the introducing young people early into life; but by the urgent entreaties of his lady, he was now prevailed upon to relax from the strictness he had observed respecting his elder children, four of whom felt a wish for a more enlarged society; and, as their father had no design of placing any of them in a religious retirement, it began to be time for them to know something of that world in which, in all probability, they must take an active part.
The holidays were spent in the utmost harmony; the festivity which reigned in every part of the castle seemed to have banished sorrow from its walls. The surgeon, captains, and lieutenants, were all of their parties, and the evenings generally concluded with a dance: their dependents were sometimes permitted to join the set, and the good priest, Father Anselm, who attended the castle, would gladly have been a partaker in their innocent amusements, had not the rigid rules of his sacred order forbidden such relaxations.
A few days before the young ladies were to return to the nunnery, Madeline was taken ill, and her disorder increased so rapidly, it was not only thought dangerous, but found impracticable to remove her with safety. For some weeks her life was despaired of, and, when immediate danger was over, she was left in so weak and languid a state, that air and exercise were pronounced absolutely necessary to effect a perfect recovery. This sentence was heard with secret delight by the suffering Madeline, as she was certain it would procure leave for her longer continuance at the castle, and the permission, when obtained, had more efficacy in restoring her, than all the medicines she had taken during her illness. Edwin and Roseline, much as they had suffered from the alarming indisposition of their loved companion, rejoiced that it had been productive of an indulgence they had almost despaired of gaining.
As the progress of her recovery was slow and precarious, many symptoms of a decline being visible, every one was eager and anxious to amuse the fair invalid, and none appeared more earnest in their endeavours than Hubert de Willows, captain of the guard, a young man, whose wit, vivacity, and unceasing good humour, had so strongly recommended him to the favour and protection of the governor, as had obtained him a constant invitation to his table. With a lively imagination, he had a turn for satire, so pointed, that, while it rendered him a most entertaining companion, kept many of his enemies in awe, and he had the merit of never shewing his talents at the expence of a friend, nor any worthy character; but he considered vice and folly as fair game, against which he levelled his attacks.
Arthur de Clavering, the acting surgeon, was allowed both judgment and humanity. The practice of physic and surgery was then but obscurely known, compared with the more enlightened practioners of these days. De Clavering, however, patched up many a broken constitution. People lived as long, and had fewer diseases, than has been the lot of succeeding generations, but, whether this is owing to chance or folly, I leave wiser heads to determine.
Arthur de Clavering was rather an extraordinary character; his person was neither tall nor short; of a thin habit; had a countenance so pleasing, and eyes so penetrating, it was impossible