The Betrothed

Chapter 16

The Lady Eveline remained nearly four months with her aunt, the

Abbess of the Benedictine nunnery, under whose auspices the

Constable of Chester saw his suit advance and prosper as it would

probably have done under that of the deceased Raymond Berenger,

her brother. It is probable, however, that, but for the supposed

vision of the Virgin, and the vow of gratitude which that supposed

vision had called forth, the natural dislike of so young a person

to a match so unequal in years, might have effectually opposed his

success. Indeed Eveline, while honouring the Constable's virtues,

doing justice to his high character, and admiring his talents,

could never altogether divest herself of a secret fear of him,

which, while it prevented her from expressing any direct

disapprobation of his addresses, caused her sometimes to shudder,

she scarce knew why, at the idea of their becoming successful.

The ominous words, "betraying and betrayed," would then occur to

her memory; and when her aunt (the period of the deepest mourning

being elapsed) had fixed a period for her betrothal, she looked

forward to it with a feeling of terror, for which she was unable

to account to herself, and which, as well as the particulars of

her dream, she concealed even from Father Aldrovand in the hours

of confession. It was not aversion to the Constable--it was far

less preference to any other suitor--it was one of those

instinctive movements and emotions by which Nature seems to warn

us of approaching danger, though furnishing no information

respecting its nature, and suggesting no means of escaping from

it.

So strong were these intervals of apprehension, that if they had

been seconded by the remonstrances of Rose Flammock, as formerly,

they might perhaps have led to Eveline's yet forming some

resolution unfavourable to the suit of the Constable. But, still

more zealous for her lady's honour than even for her happiness,

Rose had strictly forborne every effort which could affect

Eveline's purpose, when she had once expressed her approbation of

De Lacy's addresses; and whatever she thought or anticipated

concerning the proposed marriage, she seemed from that moment to

consider it as an event which must necessarily take place.

De Lacy himself, as he learned more intimately to know the merit

of the prize which he was desirous of possessing, looked forward

with different feelings towards the union, than those with which

he had first proposed the measure to Raymond Berenger. It was then

a mere match of interest and convenience, which had occurred to

the mind of a proud and politic feudal lord, as the best mode of

consolidating the power and perpetuating the line of his family.

Nor did even the splendour of Eveline's beauty make that

impression upon De Lacy, which it was calculated to do on the

fiery and impassioned chivalry of the age. He was past that period

of life when the wise are captivated by outward form, and might

have said with truth, as well as with discretion, that he could

have wished his beautiful bride several years older, and possessed

of a more moderate portion of personal charms, in order to have

rendered the match more fitted for his own age and disposition.

This stoicism, however, vanished, when, on repeated interviews

with his destined bride, he found that she was indeed

inexperienced in life, but desirous to be guided by superior

wisdom; and that, although gifted with high spirit, and a

disposition which began to recover its natural elastic gaiety, she

was gentle, docile, and, above all, endowed with a firmness of

principle, which seemed to give assurance that she would tread

uprightly, and without spot, the slippery paths in which youth,

rank, and beauty, are doomed to move.

As feelings of a warmer and more impassioned kind towards Eveline

began to glow in De Lacy's bosom, his engagements as a crusader

became more and more burdensome to him. The Benedictine Abbess,

the natural guardian of Eveline's happiness, added to these

feelings by her reasoning and remonstrances. Although a nun and a

devotee, she held in reverence the holy state of matrimony, and

comprehended so much of it as to be aware, that its important

purposes could not be accomplished while the whole continent of

Europe was interposed betwixt the married pair; for as to a hint

from the Constable, that his young spouse might accompany him into

the dangerous and dissolute precincts of the Crusader's camp, the

good lady crossed herself with horror at the proposal, and never

permitted it to be a second time mentioned in her presence.

It was not, however, uncommon for kings, princes, and other

persons of high consequence, who had taken upon them the vow to

rescue Jerusalem, to obtain delays, and even a total remission of

their engagement, by proper application to the Church of Rome. The

Constable was sure to possess the full advantage of his

sovereign's interest and countenance, in seeking permission to

remain in England, for he was the noble to whose valour and policy

Henry had chiefly intrusted the defence of the disorderly Welsh

marches; and it was by no means with his good-will that so useful

a subject had ever assumed the cross.

It was settled, therefore, in private betwixt the Abbess and the

Constable, that the latter should solicit at Rome, and with the

Pope's Legate in England, a remission of his vow for at least two

years; a favour which it was thought could scarce be refused to

one of his wealth and influence, backed as it was with the most

liberal offers of assistance towards the redemption of the Holy

Land. His offers were indeed munificent; for he proposed, if his

own personal attendance were dispensed with, to send an hundred

lances at his own cost, each lance accompanied by two squires,

three archers, and a varlet or horse-boy; being double the retinue

by which his own person was to have been accompanied. He offered

besides to deposit the sum of two thousand bezants to the general

expenses of the expedition, to surrender to the use of the

Christian armament those equipped vessels which he had provided,

and which even now awaited the embarkation of himself and his

followers.

Yet, while making these magnificent proffers, the Constable could

not help feeling they would be inadequate to the expectations of

the rigid prelate Baldwin, who, as he had himself preached the

crusade, and brought the Constable and many others into that holy

engagement, must needs see with displeasure the work of his

eloquence endangered, by the retreat of so important an associate

from his favourite enterprise. To soften, therefore, his

disappointment as much as possible, the Constable offered to the

Archbishop, that, in the event of his obtaining license to remain

in Britain, his forces should be led by his nephew, Danxian Lacy,

already renowned for his early feats of chivalry, the present hope

of his house, and, failing heirs of his own body, its future head

and support.

The Constable took the most prudent method of communicating this

proposal to the Archbishop Baldwin, through a mutual friend, on

whose good offices he could depend, and whose interest with the

Prelate was regarded as great. But notwithstanding the splendour

of the proposal, the Prelate heard it with sullen and obstinate

silence, and referred for answer to a personal conference with the

Constable at an appointed day, when concerns of the church would

call the Archbishop to the city of Gloucester. The report of the

mediator was such as induced the Constable to expect a severe

struggle with the proud and powerful churchman; but, himself proud

and powerful, and backed by the favour of his sovereign, he did

not expect to be foiled in the contest.

The necessity that this point should be previously adjusted, as

well as the recent loss of Eveline's father, gave an air of

privacy to De Lacy's courtship, and prevented its being signalized

by tournaments and feats of military skill, in which he would have

been otherwise desirous to display his address in the eyes of his

mistress. The rules of the convent prevented his giving

entertainments of dancing, music, or other more pacific revels;

and although the Constable displayed his affection by the most

splendid gifts to his future bride and her attendants, the whole

affair, in the opinion of the experienced Dame Gillian, proceeded

more with the solemnity of a funeral, than the light pace of an

approaching bridal.

The bride herself felt something of this, and thought occasionally

it might have been lightened by the visits of young Damian, in

whose age, so nearly corresponding to her own, she might have

expected some relief from the formal courtship of his graver

uncle. But he came not; and from what the Constable said

concerning him, she was led to imagine that the relations had, for

a time at least, exchanged occupations and character. The elder De

Lacy continued, indeed, in nominal observance of his vow, to dwell

in a pavilion by the gates of Gloucester; but he seldom donned his

armour, substituted costly damask and silk for his war-worn

shamois doublet, and affected at his advanced time of life more

gaiety of attire than his contemporaries remembered as

distinguishing his early youth. His nephew, on the contrary,

resided almost constantly on the marches of Wales, occupied in

settling by prudence, or subduing by main force, the various

disturbances by which these provinces were continually agitated;

and Eveline learned with surprise, that it was with difficulty his

uncle had prevailed on him to be present at the ceremony of their

being betrothed to each other, or, as the Normans entitled the

ceremony, their _fiancailles_. This engagement, which

preceded the actual marriage for a space more or less, according

to circumstances, was usually celebrated with a solemnity

corresponding to the rank of the contracting parties.

The Constable added, with expressions of regret, that Damian gave

himself too little rest, considering his early youth, slept too

little, and indulged in too restless a disposition--that his

health was suffering--and that a learned Jewish leech, whose

opinion had been taken, had given his advice that the warmth of a

more genial climate was necessary to restore his constitution to

its general and natural vigour.

Eveline heard this with much regret, for she remembered Damian as

the angel of good tidings, who first brought her news of

deliverance from the forces of the Welsh; and the occasions on

which they had met, though mournful, brought a sort of pleasure in

recollection, so gentle had been the youth's deportment, and so

consoling his expressions of sympathy. She wished she could see

him, that she might herself judge of the nature of his illness;

for, like other damsels of that age, she was not entirely ignorant

of the art of healing, and had been taught by Father Aldrovand,

himself no mean physician, how to extract healing essences from

plants and herbs gathered under planetary hours. She thought it

possible that her talents in this art, slight as they were, might

perhaps be of service to one already her friend and liberator, and

soon about to become her very near relation.

It was therefore with a sensation of pleasure mingled with some

confusion, (at the idea, doubtless, of assuming the part of

medical adviser to so young a patient,) that one evening, while

the convent was assembled about some business of their chapter,

she heard Gillian announce that the kinsman of the Lord Constable

desired to speak with her. She snatched up the veil, which she

wore in compliance with the customs of the house, and hastily

descended to the parlour, commanding the attendance of Gillian,

who, nevertheless, did not think proper to obey the signal.

When she entered the apartment, a man whom she had never seen

before advanced, kneeling on one knee, and taking up the hem of

her veil, saluted it with an air of the most profound respect. She

stepped back, surprised and alarmed, although there was nothing in

the appearance of the stranger to justify her apprehension. He

seemed to be about thirty years of age, tall of stature, and

bearing a noble though wasted form, and a countenance on which

disease, or perhaps youthful indulgence, had anticipated the

traces of age. His demeanour seemed courteous and respectful, even

in a degree which approached to excess. He observed Eveline's

surprise, and said, in a tone of pride, mingled with emotion, "I

fear that I have been mistaken, and that my visit is regarded as

an unwelcome intrusion."

"Arise, sir," answered Eveline, "and let me know your name and

business I was summoned to a kinsman of the Constable of Chester."

"And you expected the stripling Damian," answered the stranger.

"But the match with which England rings will connect you with

others of the house besides that young person; and amongst these,

with the luckless Randal de Lacy. Perhaps," continued he, "the

fair Eveline Berenger may not even have heard his name breathed by

his more fortunate kinsman--more fortunate in every respect, but

_most_ fortunate in his present prospects."

This compliment was accompanied by a deep reverence, and Eveline

stood much embarrassed how to reply to his civilities; for

although she now remembered to have heard this Randal slightly

mentioned by the Constable when speaking of his family, it was in

terms which implied there was no good understanding betwixt them.

She therefore only returned his courtesy by general thanks for the

honour of his visit, trusting he would then retire; but such was

not his purpose.

"I comprehend," he said, "from the coldness with which the Lady

Eveline Berenger receives me, that what she has heard of me from

my kinsman (if indeed he thought me worthy of being mentioned to

her at all) has been, to say the least, unfavourable. And yet my

name once stood as high in fields and courts, as that of the

Constable; nor is it aught more disgraceful than what is indeed

often esteemed the worst of disgraces--poverty, which prevents my

still aspiring to places of honour and fame. If my youthful

follies have been numerous, I have paid for them by the loss of my

fortune, and the degradation of my condition; and therein, my

happy kinsman might, if he pleased, do me some aid--I mean not

with his purse or estate; for, poor as I am, I would not live on

alms extorted from the reluctant hand of an estranged friend; but

his countenance would put him to no cost, and, in so far, I might

expect some favour."

"In that my Lord Constable," said Eveline, "must judge for

himself. I have--as yet, at least--no right to interfere in his

family affairs; and if I should ever have such right, it will well

become me to be cautious how I use it."

"It is prudently answered," replied Randal; "but what I ask of you

is merely, that you, in your gentleness, would please to convey to

my cousin a suit, which I find it hard to bring my ruder tongue to

utter with sufficient submission. The usurers, whose claims have

eaten like a canker into my means, now menace me with a dungeon--a

threat which they dared not mutter, far less attempt to execute,

were it not that they see me an outcast, unprotected by the

natural head of my family, and regard me rather as they would some

unfriended vagrant, than as a descendant of the powerful house of

Lacy."

"It is a sad necessity," replied Eveline; "but I see not how I can

help you in such extremity."

"Easily," replied Randal de Lacy. "The day of your betrothal is

fixed, as I hear reported; and it is your right to select what

witnesses you please to the solemnity, which may the saints bless!

To every one but myself, presence or absence upon that occasion is

a matter of mere ceremony--to me it is almost life or death. So an

I situated, that the marked instance of slight or contempt,

implied by my exclusion from this meeting of our family, will be

held for the signal of my final expulsion from the House of the De

Lacy's, and for a thousand bloodhounds to assail me without mercy

or forbearance, whom, cowards as they are, even the slightest show

of countenance from my powerful kinsman would compel to stand at

bay. But why should I occupy your time in talking thus?--Farewell,

madam--be happy--and do not think of me the more harshly, that for

a few minutes I have broken the tenor of your happy thoughts, by

forcing my misfortunes on your notice."

"Stay, sir," said Eveline, affected by the tone and manner of the

noble suppliant; "you shall not have it to say that you have told

your distress to Eveline Berenger, without receiving such aid as

is in her power to give. I will mention your request to the

Constable of Chester."

"You must do more, if you really mean to assist me," said Randal

de Lacy, "you must make that request your own. You do not know,"

said he, continuing to bend on her a fixed and expressive look,

"how hard it is to change the fixed purpose of a De Lacy--a

twelvemonth hence you will probably be better acquainted with the

firm texture of our resolutions. But, at present, what can

withstand your wish should you deign to express it?"

"Your suit, sir, shall not be lost for want of my advancing it

with my good word and good wishes," replied Eveline; "but you must

be well aware that its success or failure must rest with the

Constable himself."

Randal de Lacy took his leave with the same air of deep reverence

which had marked his entrance; only that, as he then saluted the

skirt of Eveline's robe, he now rendered the same homage by

touching her hand with his lip. She saw him depart with a mixture

of emotions, in which compassion was predominant; although in his

complaints of the Constable's unkindness to him there was

something offensive, and his avowal of follies and excess seemed

uttered rather in the spirit of wounded pride, than in that of

contrition.

When Eveline next saw the Constable, she told him of the visit of

Randal and of his request; and strictly observing his countenance

while she spoke, she saw, that at the first mention of his

kinsman's name, a gleam of anger shot along his features. He soon

subdued it, however, and, fixing his eyes on the ground, listened

to Eveline's detailed account of the visit, and her request "that

Randal might be one of the invited witnesses to their

_fiancailles_."

The Constable paused for a moment, as if he were considering how

to elude the solicitation. At length he replied, "You do not know

for whom you ask this, or you would perhaps have forborne your

request; neither are you apprized of its full import, though my

crafty cousin well knows, that when I do him this grace which he

asks, I bind myself, as it were, in the eye of the world once

more--and it will be for the third time--to interfere in his

affairs, and place them on such a footing as may afford him the

means of re-establishing his fallen consequence, and repairing his

numerous errors."

"And wherefore not, my lord?" said the generous Eveline. "If he

has been ruined only through follies, he is now of an age when

these are no longer tempting snares; and if his heart and hand be

good, he may yet be an honour to the House of De Lacy."

The Constable shook his head. "He hath indeed," he said, "a heart

and hand fit for service, God knoweth, whether in good or evil.

But never shall it be said that you, my fair Eveline, made request

of Hugh de Lacy, which he was not to his uttermost willing to

comply with. Randal shall attend at our _fiancailles_; there

is indeed the more cause for his attendance, as I somewhat fear we

may lack that of our valued nephew Damian, whose malady rather

increases than declines, and, as I hear, with strange symptoms of

unwonted disturbance of mind and starts of temper, to which the

youth had not hitherto been subject."