The Chaplet of Pearls, Charlotte M. Yonge [superbooks4u .TXT] 📗

was much distressed that it should thus have been crossed, and thought the new phase of affairs would be far from acceptable at Combe Walwyn.

‘Whatever is just and honourable must be acceptable to my grandfather,’ said Berenger.

‘Even so,’ said Walsingham; ‘but it were well to consider whether justice and honour require you to overthrow the purpose wherewith he sent you hither.’

‘Surely, sir, justice and require me to fulfil a contract to which the other party is constant,’ said Berenger, feeling very wise and prudent for calling that wistful, indignant creature the other party.

‘That is also true,’ said the Ambassador, ‘provided she be constant; but you own that she signed the requisition for the dissolution.’

‘She did so, but under the same deception as myself, and further mortified and aggrieved at my seeming faithlessness.’

‘So it may easily be represented,’ muttered Walsingham.

‘How, sir?’ cried Berenger, impetuously; ‘do you doubt her truth?’

‘Heaven forefend,’ said Sir Francis, ‘that I should discuss any fair lady’s sincerity! The question is how far you are bound. Have I understood you that you are veritably wedded, not by a mere contract of espousal?’

‘Berenger could produce no documents, for they had been left at Chateau Leurre, and on his father’s death the Chevalier had claimed the custody of them; but he remembered enough of the ceremonial to prove that the wedding had been a veritable one, and that only the papal intervention could annul it.

Indeed an Englishman, going by English law, would own no power in the Pope, nor any one on earth, to sever the sacred tie of wedlock; but French courts of law would probably ignore the mode of application, and would certainly endeavour to separate between a Catholic and a heretic.

‘I am English, sir, in heart and faith,’ said Berenger, earnestly. ‘Look upon me as such, and tell me, am I married or single at this moment?’

‘Married assuredly. More’s the pity,’ said Sir Francis.

‘And no law of God or man divides us without our own consent.’ There was no denying that the mutual consent of the young pair at their present age was all that was wanting to complete the inviolability of their marriage contract.

Berenger was indeed only eighteen, and Eustacie more than a year younger, but there was nothing in their present age to invalidate their marriage, for persons of their rank were usually wedded quite as young or younger. Walsingham was only concerned at his old friend’s disappointment, and at the danger of the young man running headlong into a connection probably no more suitable than that with Diane de Ribaumont would have been. But it was not convenient to argue against the expediency of a man’s loving his own wife; and when Berenger boldly declared he was not talking of love but of justice, it was only possible to insist that he should pause and see where true justice lay.

And thus the much-perplexed Ambassador broke up the conference with his hot and angry young guest.

‘And Mistress Lucy—-?’ sighed Mr. Adderley, in rather an inapropos fashion it must be owned; but then he had been fretted beyond endurance by his pupil striding up and down his room, reviling Diane, and describing Eustacie, while he was trying to write these uncomfortable tidings to Lord Walwyn.

‘Lucy! What makes you bring her up to me?’ exclaimed Berenger. ‘Little Dolly would be as much to the purpose!’

‘Only, sir, no resident at Hurst Walwyn could fail to know that has been planned and desired.’

‘Pshaw!’ cries Berenger; ‘have you not heard that it was a mere figment, and that I could scarce have wedded Lucy safely, even had this matter gone as you wish? This is the luckiest chance that could have befallen her.’

‘That may be,’ said Mr. Adderley; ‘I wish she may think so—sweet young lady!’

‘I tell you, Mr. Adderley, you should know better! Lucy has more sense. My aunt, whom she follows more than any other creature, ever silenced the very sport or semblance of love passages between us even as children, by calling them unseemly in one wedded as I am. Brother and sister we have ever been, and have loved as such—ay, and shall! I know of late some schemes have crossed my mother’s mind—-’

‘Yea, and that of others.’

‘But they have not ruffled Lucy’s quiet nature—trust me! And for the rest? What doth she need me in comparison of this poor child? She—like a bit of her own gray lavender in the shadiest nook of the walled garden, tranquil there—sure not to be taken there, save to company with fine linen in some trim scented coffer, whilst this fresh glowing rosebud has grown up pure and precious in the very midst of the foulest corruption Christendom can show, and if I snatch her not from it, I, the innocence and sweetness, what is to be her fate? The very pity of a Christian, the honour of a gentleman, would urge me, even if it were not my most urgent duty!’

‘Mr. Adderley argued no more. When Berenger came to his duty in the matter he was invincible, and moreover all the more provoking, because he mentioned it with a sort of fiery sound of relish, and looked so very boyish all the time. Poor Mr. Adderley!’ feeling as if his trust were betrayed, loathing the very idea of a French court lady, saw that his pupil had been allured into a headlong passion to his own misery, and that of all whose hopes were set on him, yet preached to by this stripling scholar about duties and sacred obligations! Well might he rue the day he ever set foot in Paris.

Then, to his further annoyance, came a royal messenger to invite the Baron de Ribaumont to join the expedition to Montpipeau. Of course he must go, and his tutor must be left behind, and who could tell into what mischief he might not be tempted!

Here, however, Sidney gave the poor chaplain some comfort. He believed that no ladies were to be of the party, and that the gentlemen were chiefly of the King’s new friends among the Huguenots, such as Coligny, his son-in-law Teligny, Rochefoucauld, and the like, among whom the young gentleman could not fall into any very serious harm, and might very possibly be influenced against a Roman Catholic wife. At any rate, he would be out of the way, and unable to take any dangerous steps.

This same consideration so annoyed Berenger that he would have declined the invitation, if royal invitations could have been declined. And in the morning, before setting out, he dressed himself point device, and with Osbert behind him marched down to the Croix de Larraine, to call upon the Chevalier de Ribaumont. He had a very fine speech at his tongue’s end when he set out, but a good deal of it had evaporated when he reached the hotel, and perhaps he was not very sorry not to find the old gentleman within.

On his return, he indited a note to the Chevalier, explaining that he had now seen his wife, Madame la Baronne de Ribaumont, and had come to an understanding with her, by which he found that it was