Volume I Part 13 (1/2)
”Whosoever against holly doth cry, In a rope shall be hung full high.”
For, when the oak and ash trees babbled to the wind, and betrayed the Saviour's hiding-place, the holly, the ivy, and the pine kept the secret hidden in their silent hearts; and for this good deed they stand green and living under winter's icy breath, while their companions s.h.i.+ver naked in the blast. Not till the risen sun has danced on Easter morn shall the oak adorn a Christian household and prove itself forgiven. The Christmas-pie--the Christ-cradle, as the Saxons used to call it--had been baked in its oblong dish in memory of the manger at Bethlehem, with the star of the Magi cut deeply in the swelling crust. The Yule-dough, cunningly moulded into the likeness of a little babe, had been carefully laid by as a sovereign protector from the evils of fire, floods, carnage, and--so say some ancient writers--from the bite of rabid dogs. Annis Vane, decked out in the bravest array her altered fortunes would permit, knelt by the blazing hearth. Her ruff was of the finest lace, and a row of milk-white pearls clasped her slender throat. She shaded her face from the fire, and piled up s.h.i.+ning cones of bright-brown nuts that seemed to tempt the flames.
[Ill.u.s.tration: The Cavalier From France]
”All we lack now is the mistletoe,” she said, half-despondently. ”It was no easy task to find the holly and bring it home unnoticed; but we cannot gather mistletoe near London, and there is none for sale throughout the city.”
”Of what use is the mistletoe,” said the practical Cicely, ”when we are but three women here alone? We can kiss each other as readily under a sprig of ivy, and we can fire our nuts without the help of man or lad, provided only we keep one in our minds. Of whom shall I think, Annis?”
she queried, wrinkling up her pretty forehead in anxious perplexity over so disturbing a doubt.
”You are far too young to think of men at all,” answered Annis, reprovingly, and with all the conscious superiority of age. ”Nor do you know enough as yet to make such pastime profitable.”
Cicely's brows drew together with a frown which plainly indicated the nature of the retort upon her lips, but a glance from her mother checked her. ”The word uttered in vexation is better left unspoken,” said Mistress Vane, with gentle authority. ”And I am waiting here, not to listen to disputes, which in these stormy times have grown wearisome, but to hear the Christmas carol promised me to-night.”
Annis, with flushed cheeks, took down from the wall a little mandolin of Spanish workmans.h.i.+p, and, striking a few chords, began the carol, in which Cicely, after sacrificing some moments to ill-temper, concluded presently to join, her clear flute-notes rising high above her sister's weaker tones,--
”When Christ was born of Mary free, In Bethlehem, in that fair citie, Angels sungen with mirth and glee, In Excelsis Gloria!
”Herdsmen beheld these angels bright To them appeared with great light, And said, G.o.d's Son is born this night, In Excelsis Gloria!
”The King is comen to save kind, Even in Scripture as we find; Therefore this song have we in mind, In Excelsis Gloria!
”Then, dear Lord, for thy great grace, Grant us in bliss to see thy face, Where we may sing to thee solace, In Excelsis Gloria!”
As the sounds died into silence there stood one in the icy streets and listened. No self-elected saint was he, scenting out treason to the Commonwealth, but a cavalier from France, with his love-locks shorn for sweet prudence's sake, and a mighty mantle enveloping him from head to foot. If Annis Vane had waited, and hoped, and built up her faith in the cheer of Christmas-night, the joy she coveted was very near at last.
After lingering a few moments, as though on the chance of hearing more, the stranger advanced and knocked sharply at the heavily-barred door. It was opened in due season and with great caution by old Catherine, who evidently thought the hour ill-chosen for a new-comer, and mistrusted sorely the purpose of his visit. He allowed her scant time, however, to threaten or expostulate, but, putting her gently on one side, stepped to the inner room. There, pale with anxiety and terror, Mistress Vane leaned forward in her chair, while Cicely, half-frightened, half-defiant, grasped her mother's skirt. Before the fire stood Annis, her blue eyes s.h.i.+ning like stars, a round, red spot burning feverishly in each cheek, her lace ruff rising and falling distressfully with the heaving bosom within. The mandolin had fallen from her hands; the ruddy firelight lit up her slight figure and fair, disordered curls. She stood thus for a moment, swaying breathless betwixt hope and fear, then, with a low, joyous cry, sprang forward into her lover's arms.
Welcome now the good cheer of Christmas-night! Welcome the Christmas-pie, the pasty of venison, the pudding stuffed with plums, and the flagon of old wine. Love is a brave appetizer when backed by long fasting and a ten hours' ride, and Captain Breton brought all the vigor of youth and happiness and of a n.o.ble hunger to bear upon the viands.
The glow of the cheerful room was infinitely comforting to the tired traveller; the sight of Annis's happy face put fresh hope and courage in his heart. He had much to tell of the gay court of France, and of the royal exile, who should one day, G.o.d willing, sit on his father's throne. Nor were there lacking adventures and dangers of his own to give flavor to the narrative, nor plans for the future, colored with all the happy confidence of youth. He had come home to win his bride, and to carry her away to brighter scenes until this soured and gloomy England should be merrie England once more. ”He who would keep a light heart within London walls,” said he, ”must needs be very sure of heaven, as are Master Prynne and Master Philip Stubbes, or very much in love, as am I. It lacks but a covered cart and a bell in every street to make one feel the Black Death is upon us. If you can laugh in such an atmosphere of melancholy, Annis, what will you do in France?”
”Mayhap if I laugh enough in sober London I shall grow too giddy and forward in foolish France,” returned Annis, gayly; ”unless----”
”Unless what, dear heart?”
”Unless while I am safe in Paris you are fighting the battles of the king in England. Then tears will come easier than laughter, as in truth they have done of late.”
”Wherever I may be, your prayers will prove my bulwark,” said Captain Breton, confidently. ”It would take more than a silver bullet to find its way to my heart while you are besieging heaven's doors in the tumultuous fas.h.i.+on that only women can attain. I bear a charmed life as long as you remember your pet.i.tions.”
Annis answered with a look, and Cicely, nestling by her mother's chair, watched her sister with wide, serious eyes. To the child standing on the threshold of womanhood the presence of love carries with it an intoxicating flavor of mystery. It is something that fills her alike with envy and a vague resentment, with wonder and an indefinable desire.
Its commonest expression is a perverse antipathy to one of the lovers, with an irrational increase of affection for the other; and in this case Captain Breton came in for his full share of Cicely's smothered anger and disdain. He, meanwhile, in happy unconsciousness, chancing to meet the brown eyes lifted dreamily to his own, and noting the upward curve of the short, sweet lip, thought within himself that this elfish little Cicely was growing almost as pretty as her sister--a judgment which proves conclusively the blindness of love; for Annis, though fair and comely to look upon, came no nearer to her young sister's beauty than does the pink-tipped daisy to the half-opened rosebud uncurling slowly in the sun. At present, the girl, seeing that she was watched, turned away her head pettishly and eyed the leaping flames.
”Annis said to-night there was but one thing lacking to her Christmas cheer,” she remarked, after a pause, and with the too evident intention of saying something vexatious.
”And that was I!” interposed the cavalier, with the ready a.s.surance of a lover.