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Updated: August 25, 2024
Lady Countess, I cry you mercy for mine ignorance and mine unwisdom." "Tarry yet a moment, Lord de Audley," said Bertram, smiling again; for the girl's colour came and went, the distaff trembled in her hand, and her eyes sought his with a look of troubled entreaty. "Well, Nell? speak out, maiden mine!" "Father!" she said in an agitated voice, "he loved Nell Lyngern!"
"Bertram Lyngern," said the monk calmly, "thou hast marred my griffin." "What, have I made him a wyvern?" "That had less mattered. A twist of his tail is square, thy sudden speech being the cause thereof." "Let be, Father Wilfred. 'Tis a new pattern." The monk smiled, but shook his head, and proceeded to erase the faulty strokes by means of a large piece of pumice-stone.
An extremely short upper lip perhaps indicated blue blood, but it gave a haughty appearance to his features, which was not indicative of his character. He had a sweet low-toned voice, and an extremely winning smile. The Princess suffered her husband to lift her from the pillion on which she rode behind Bertram Lyngern, who had been transferred to her service by her father's wish.
Knowing how passionately Constance had once loved Kent, this calm show of indifference puzzled Maude Lyngern sorely. But to the Dowager Lady it was no such riddle. "Her love is dead, child," she said, when Maude timidly expressed her surprise. "And when that is verily thus, it were lighter to bid a dead corpse live than a dead love."
The rosary changed hands, and Isabel began to say her prayers, neither leaving her chair nor stopping her conversation. "Sister Isabel, you have dropped a bead!" snapped the elder nun. "Thanks, Sister Avice. By my Lady Saint Mary! where was I? Oh ay! Regina Patriarcharum, ora pro nobis! Well, Dame Lyngern, I will do you to wit what befell." But Maude's eyes and attention were riveted.
"I pray you, Master Lyngern, when said I so much?" responded Maude, stung into speech again. "Just twenty years gone, little Maude," was the gentle answer. Bertram's voice had changed from its bantering tone into a tender, quiet one, and Maude felt more inclined to cry than ever. "Is that saying truth no longer, Maude?"
"Speak the worst, Bertram Lyngern!" cried the old lady. "Thy Lord " It seemed to Bertram as if the only words that would come to his lips in reply were two lines of an inscription set up in many a church, and as familiar to all present as any hackneyed proverb to us. "`Pur ta pite, Jesu, regarde, Et met cest alme en sauve garde." There was an instant's dead silence.
The next time the page's head paused at her window, Maude summoned courage to ask him his name. "Bertram Lyngern," said he smilingly. "And a father and mother?" asked Maude. "A father," said the boy. "He is one of my Lord's knights; but for my mother, the women say she died the day I was born."
That was the 5th of January; and this was the evening of the 10th. There was a mournful rear-supper at Cardiff Castle that night; and no member of the household, except the wearied Bertram Lyngern, thought of sleep. Maude was busied in making up money and jewels into numberless small packages, under the orders of the Dowager, to be concealed on the persons of Le Despenser and his attendant squire.
Maude smiled back at Bertram Lyngern. "It pleased the Lady's Grace to make me of her especial following." "Long life to the Lady! Now will I cause thee to wit who be all my friends. "And who is he that is next unto the Lady Custance?" "On her right hand, the Lord Edward, and the Lord Richard at her left her brethren both." Lord Richard pleased Maude.
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