Agincourt (Historical Novel). G. P. R. James
her eagerness to prove her conviction of his innocence, have been met with that warm return, which would have brought the best balm to his heart, although the first effect upon her might have been agitation and alarm. But ere he could utter the words on which his fate depended, Mary Markham joined them, and he waited for another opportunity. Dacre returned to his own house at night; but every day he went over to the hall, his mood varying like a changeful morning, sometimes sunny with hope and temporary forgetfulness, sometimes all cloud and gloom, when memory recalled the suspicions that had been pointed at him. Those suspicions, too, were frequently recalled to his mind even by his own acts, for he eagerly strove to discover by whose instrumentality his whole course, on the unfortunate night of poor Catherine Beauchamp's death, had been conveyed to Sir Simeon of Roydon. But by so doing, he only fretted his own spirit, and gained no information; whoever was the spy, he remained concealed.
Three or four days were thus passed before he obtained any second opportunity of speaking with Isabel alone; but, on his arrival at the dwelling of Sir Philip Beauchamp, on the morning of the 9th of April, he was told by a servant whom he found in the hall, that the family had gone forth into the park; and, following immediately, he found Isabel sitting under the trees, without companions. She seemed to have been weeping, and it was a pleasant task for Dacre to strive to console her who had so often been his own comforter.
"There are tears in your eyes, dear Isabel," he said, as she rose gracefully to meet him. "What has grieved you?"
"Have you not seen my father?" asked the lady. "Do you not know that our dear Mary is going to leave us? She goes to London to-day, and he goes with her so far."
"Indeed!" exclaimed the knight; "that is very sudden."
"And very sad," answered Isabel; "the hall will be melancholy enough without her now--I cannot but weep, and shall never cease to regret her going."
"Nay, nay; time will bring balm, dear Isabel," answered Dacre. "You have often told me so."
"And have you believed me, Harry?" answered the lady, with a faint and almost reproachful smile; "even last night, you were more sad and grave than ever."
"Ay, but this is a different case," replied Dacre; "one can lose a friend--ay, even by death; one can lose anything more easily than honour and renown."
"But the loss of yours is only in your own fancy, Dacre," she answered. "Who believes this charge, that Simeon of Roydon dares to hint, but not to avow? Whom has it affected? In whom do you see a change? Surely not in my father; surely not in me."
"No, assuredly, Isabel," he said, after thinking for a while; "but as yet I have had no occasion to make the trial. Hearken, and I will put a case. Suppose, dear Isabel, that I were to love; suppose the lady that I loved had heard this tale; suppose that she had loved me well before, and at her knee I were now to crave the blessing of her hand; would not a doubt, would not a hesitation cross her mind? Would she not ask herself--"
"Oh, no!" cried Isabel; but Dacre went on, not suffering her to conclude.
"You put it not fully to your own heart, dear Isabel," he said. "Suppose you were that lady--suppose that all Harry Dacre's hopes and happiness for life were staked on your reply; suppose that to you, who have so often consoled him in affliction, calmed him in anger, soothed him in anxiety, he were to say, 'Isabel, will you be my comforter through life, the star of my existence, the recompence for all I have suffered?' would not one thought--"
Isabel trembled violently, and her cheek turned ashy pale.
"It is enough," said Dacre, with a quivering lip; "I am answered! That memory could never be banished from your heart. It is enough!"
"Oh, no, no!" cried Isabel; but, as will almost always happen when a word may make all clear, an interruption came; before she could go on, good old Sir Philip Beauchamp was seen upon the steps of the house, waving them to come back, with a loud "Halloo!"
They both turned, and walked towards the hall in silence. Isabel would fain have spoken, but agitation overpowered her. She wished that Dacre, by a single word, would give her an opportunity of reply; but his over-sensitive heart was convinced of her feelings--reading them all wrong; and he would not force her to speak what he thought must be painful for her to utter, and for him to hear. Twice she made up her mind to explain, but twice her heart failed her at the moment of execution; and it was not till they were within a few steps of the place where her father stood, that she could say, in a low voice, "You are mistaken, Harry; indeed you are mistaken!"
He shook his head with a bitter smile, and walked on in silence.
CHAPTER X.
THE MINSTREL'S GIRL.
At the hour appointed by the King, Richard of Woodville arrived at the palace, and was at once introduced to Henry's presence. The monarch was now quite alone, and seemed in a more cheerful, a less meditative mood, than the day before. "Well, Richard," he said, "how sped you last night? you found room in hall, and a place at board, I trust?"
"I did, Sire," replied Woodville; "and so long as I was here 'twas well; but as I returned homeward to my hostel, I saw that done which grieved me, and would grieve your Highness, too, were it told."
"Speak it, speak it," said the King; "I am now in that station where every day I must hear that which offends my ear, if I would perform the first duty of a king, and render justice to my people. What is this you saw?"
Briefly and accurately Richard of Woodville, as he had previously determined, related to the monarch the facts attending the death of the old minstrel, by the brutal act of Sir Simeon of Roydon, and his companions; and he could see Henry's brow gather into a heavy frown, and his cheek flush. When he had done, the King rose from his chair, before he spoke, and walked twice across the small chamber in which the young gentleman had found him.
"This is bad," he said at length; "this is bad; but I must not interfere with the course of law. The matter will be inquired into, of course. If the law should not punish the offence, I might myself inflict some chastisement, and, by banishing this man from my court and presence, mark my indignation at his rash contempt of human life and suffering, to call it nothing worse. But I have other views, Richard; and if I must strike, I would have it effectually."
"I do not understand you, Sire," replied Woodville, seeing that the King paused.
"No, perhaps not," said Henry; and then falling into a fit of musing again, he remained for more than a minute with his eyes fixed upon the ground. "Call me a page," he continued, at length; "I will see this Sir Simeon of Roydon."
Richard of Woodville obeyed; and when the boy appeared, Henry directed him in the clear brief words, with which even trivial orders are given by men of powerful and accurate minds, to inquire of the sergeant of the gates where Sir Simeon of Roydon was to be found, and then to summon him immediately to his presence.
"He shall make some compensation to the old man's daughter, or whoever she is, whatever the law may say," the King continued, turning to his companion, after having spoken to the page: "but tell me, Richard, was this the only adventure you met with yesterday? Ned Dyram told me, that some one had spoken to you by name in the crowd, bidding you not to let poor Dacre do battle with Simeon of Roydon,--she anticipated my commands, it would seem."
"She did so, truly, Sire," replied Woodville; "but I could never discover who it was, though she again spoke to me at the gates of the convent as I came out."
"It is very strange," said the King; "did you not know the voice?"
"It seemed somewhat disguised," answered the young gentleman; "but still it was clearly a woman's voice; and there were tones in it not unfamiliar to my ear, yet not sufficiently strong on recollection to enable me in any way to judge who spoke."
"Have we got fairies amongst us, even in Westminster?" asked the monarch, laughing. "Well, my good friend, you have nothing to do but obey your fair monitor."
"In