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Updated: August 25, 2024
"Forsooth, Master Lyngern, methinks I wis what you mean by women hard as stones," observed Maude with a slight shudder. "They do give me alway the horrors." "Think you there is naught of the stone in the Lady Custance?" said Hugh in a low voice. Maude energetically repudiated the imputation. "She a stone? nay! she is a butterfly," said Bertram.
Constance took it mechanically; and Bertram, going back to his usual seat, filled a goblet with Gascon wine, and drank it like a man who was faint and exhausted. "Sit, Master Lyngern, and rest you," pursued the Dowager; "but when you be refreshed, give us to wit the rest."
"Trust me for that, Lady mine! Take I the babe withal?" "Poor little maid! Ay, take her to thee." Maude followed the nuns into the drawing-room. She found the beads-woman still busy, on her knees in the window, and Isabel seated in the one chair sacred to royalty. "'Tis a soft morrow, Dame Lyngern," complacently remarked the lady whose heart lay bleeding. "Be that your little maid?"
"Come, Lord James," said Bertram, laughing, "methinks you be not going empty away. God bless you, man and maid! only, good knight and true, see thou leave not to love Nell Lyngern." The picture fades away, and another comes on the scene. The bar of the House of Lords.
Wedding her, you should wed not Nell Lyngern, a poor knight's daughter; but the Lady Alianora de Holand, Countess of Kent, of the royal line, whose mother was daughter unto a son of King Edward. Now what say you?" The young man's face changed painfully. "Sir, I thank you," he said in a low voice. "I am no man fit to mate with the blood royal.
A little lower down the table, Sir Bertram Lyngern and Master Hugh Calverley were discussing less serious subjects in a more sober and becoming manner. "Truly, our new King hath well begun," said Hugh.
Bertram meditated for a little while upon this reply. "But seest thou any reason, Father, wherefore I should not become a great man?" he said, reverting to his original topic. "I see no reason at all, Bertram Lyngern, wherefore thou shouldst not become a very great man." Still Bertram was dissatisfied.
"But the Church, Master Lyngern the Church cannot err! Holy Scripture saith it." "Ay so?" said Bertram again. "Where?" Maude was obliged to confess that she did not know where; she had "alway heard say the same;" but finding Bertram rather too much for her in argument, she carried her difficulty to Father Ademar when she next went to confession.
But one day, in a quiet talk with Bertram Lyngern, still her chief friend, she asked him whether he had noticed it. "Have I eyes, trow?" responded Bertram with a smile. "But wherefore is it, count you?" "Marry, the old tale, methinks. "You riddle, Master Lyngern." "Why, look you, our Lady Custance was rocked in a Lollard cradle; but my Lady Duchess' Grace had a saint's bone for her rattle.
It was broken by the mother's cry of anguish "Tom, Tom! My lad, my last lad!" "Drowned, Master Lyngern?" asked a score of voices. Bertram tacitly ignored the question. He walked languidly up the hall, and dropping on one knee before the Princess, presented to her a sapphire signet-ring the last token sent by her dead husband.
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