Volume I Part 42 (1/2)
Sir John was bewildered and alarmed. The Silver Knight was trusty, and no suspicion crossed him from that source; yet was their absence wholly unaccountable. The king, seeing some mistake in the unravelling or conception of the plot, good-naturedly commanded the minstrels to strike up a favourite tune; at the hearing of which a number of masks immediately mustered to begin dancing in the soft and dewy twilight.
Amongst the rest came in Buckingham, negligently attired, and without his visor.
”I thought thee hidden amongst the maskers,” said the king.
”Ay, my liege, a short s.p.a.ce;--but the night is hot, and I am something distempered and weary in this turmoil.”
Buckingham looked flushed and agitated, strangely differing from his usual manner. It was not un.o.bserved by the king, who attributed the change to illness.
”Thou shalt continue about our person,” said the monarch. ”Jack, see to the sports:--the pageant hath suffered greatly from thine absence. I do think the Queen of Beauty hath played thee false.”
Buckingham took his usual station by the king; and Sir John Finett, in great dolour, went forth in search of his mistress. He questioned the guests diligently, but could gain no further tidings, save that she had been seen by many in company with the Silver Knight. Every minute added to his uneasiness: thoughts of a wild and terrible import haunted him.
In vain he tried to shake off these intruders--they came like shadows, horrible and indistinct. His naturally sensitive and sanguine temperament, as p.r.o.ne to the antic.i.p.ation of evil as of delight, was a curse, and not a blessing. Departed hopes may fling a deeper shadow even on the brow of Despair!--and rayless was the night which visited his spirit. It was now too evident--for he was no novice in the science--that his admiration had awakened one dormant but hallowed affection, long lulled in the soft lap of pleasure. The maiden, with whom it was his sole aim to pa.s.s a few hours of pleasantry and amus.e.m.e.nt, had enthralled him by so sudden a spell, that he was more than half inclined to believe in the boasted skill and exploits of the s.e.x, which has rendered Lancas.h.i.+re so famous. Her unaccountable absence impressed itself strangely upon his thoughts. He was in love!--and he writhed at the discovery; but he would have given worlds just then to have proclaimed it at his mistress's feet.
Scarcely conscious how the night wore on, he was obliged to act his part. Supper was announced; and he took his station where he could see the guests unmask as they entered to the banquet.
The tables were nearly filled, but the Silver Knight and his fair lady were still absent. Grace Gerard is doubtless in her own chamber, was the host's reply to some inquiry from Sir John:--she had craved excuse from some slight indisposition. But this did not satisfy him to whom it was addressed: he suspected her chamber would be found unoccupied;--his heart felt wasted and desolate;--it was as if the whole fair face of nature were blotted out,--the light being gone which rendered it visible.
”What ho!” said the king, ”bring my Sienna knight a cup of hot sack and a merry-thought, for he seems melancholic and watchful--a wary eye, but a silent tongue. Sir John, are your wits a wool-gathering with your queen?”
”I am in my widowhood, most gracious prince,--my queen having departed.”
”More fool thou, to fling thy heart after thy wits. Come, honest Jack, we'll have some minstrelsy after the feast,--a merry troll and a short one.”
Sir John was well skilled in handling the lute and rebeck. He had been early trained to their use; and many a kind glance and tender word he had won thereby.
The feast was over, and those hushed halls thrilled to the following ditty:--
I.
”They bade me sing, they bade me smile, They bade my heart be gay; They called my spirit forth, to while The laughing hours away.
I've sung, I've smiled: where'er my path Mirth's dazzling meteors s.h.i.+ne: All hearts have owned its magic power, And all are glad but mine.
II.
”I've soothed the darkest surge of woe, And many a bosom blessed; Forbade the sufferer's tear to flow, And brought the weary rest: I've poured upon the bleeding heart The balm of Hope,--the shrine Where holier, happier thoughts shall dwell;-- But who shall gladden mine?
III.
”Forgive; 'tis but one short complaint, One pang I would reveal: The wretch upon the torturing rack Is not forbid to feel!
Then laugh,--let merry hearts to-night Their brightest wreaths entwine: The flowers that bloom on every breast Will, withering, fade on mine!”[35]
Many were the bright eyes glittering on him through their long silken lashes; but Sir John looked downward,--diligently noting something extraordinary in the disposition of his shoe-roses, or in the tie of his garter.
”One raven will set another croaking,” said Sir George.
”That we may escape a concert so detestable,” cried out Buckingham, ”let Sir John Finett follow me, and we will reel with our fair dames, until cares whirl off like sling-stones.”
”And may he that tires first fiddle the witches' jig,” said the sapient king.