It was a fine clear morning in September, when, mounted on a powerful horse, and quite alone, William Seymour began his journey towards Buckinghamshire. Seldom were more joyful feelings in the heart of any one; he was going to unite for ever his fate to her he loved best on earth; nothing had occurred to interrupt his proceedings; the eyes of policy seemed blinded; the very prying spirit of courtly scandal had not penetrated his secret. All his preparations were made. The ring upon the finger, and the benediction of the Church, was all that was wanted to render Arabella his own. On, on he sped, then, with an eager spur, and with little apprehension of meeting any one who was likely to carry intelligence of his journey to the Court, which had now removed to Greenwich.

Taking the shortest way as it then lay, he crossed the Thames by the Horseferry,--which, at that time, existed about a mile beyond Sunbury,--recrossed it again some miles higher up, and then spurred on into Buckinghamshire through the deep beech woods, whose green leaves were beginning to show the bronzing hand of time. He did not now approach the house of Lord Shrewsbury from the side of the river, but passing by Burnham and Hedsor, took a circuit round towards the great gates of the park.

He was still about a mile distant, and the day had not yet reached the tenth hour, when he observed a man on horseback, apparently looking out for something in one of the neighbouring woods, about a quarter of a mile in advance. Taking it for one of the keepers watching the game, he rode on at the same quick pace; but the moment after, the person whom he had perceived put his horse into a quick trot, and advanced towards him.

The figure was familiar to his eye, and in a minute after, as they approached nearer to each other, Seymour recognised Sir Harry West. An undefined feeling of apprehension seized upon him; though he had expected to find the old knight at Malvoisie; for it had been agreed that he should be invited to act as father to the bride, as the Earl of Shrewsbury declined to take any part in the business. But then, what brought him out at that early hour, if nothing had gone wrong? and the first question William Seymour asked as they met, was, "Is anything the matter?"

"Quick, quick," cried Sir Harry, laying his hand upon his young friend's bridle rein. "Come with me as fast as possible down this lane. There is not an instant to lose;" and, turning Seymour's horse, he led him a prisoner to the mouth of a narrow green cart-road through the wood. Then freeing his bridle, he spurred on at a gallop, beckoning to the young gentleman to follow. Seymour did so in some consternation; and on they went as if they were hunting the deer, till, at the first turning to the right, where the woods concealed them from the high road, Sir Harry quitted the path he was following, and somewhat slackened his pace.

"Now, in heaven's name, tell me what is the matter!" exclaimed William Seymour, much alarmed.

"Why you have just escaped, by five minutes, the discovery of the whole," said Sir Harry West. "Late last night arrived at Malvoisie Sir Thomas Overbury and Chaloner, with the King's commands for the Lady Arabella to join the Court at Greenwich. Not knowing when you would arrive, or by what road, we have been most anxious, as you may suppose; and they, as if they had some suspicion, and were determined to detect you, have arranged, that as the lady chose to go by water in the Earl's barge, Chaloner should accompany her; while Overbury, who says his complexion is delicate, is to proceed with his men by the high road. The Countess has promised to detain him as long as possible, in order that he might not meet you at the gates; and while your own two men have been sent, one upon the river, and the other by the lower road, to give you warning, I came out here to watch for you, expecting every moment to see Overbury at my heels."

"How often disappointment meets us at the gates of expectation!" exclaimed Seymour. "What is to be done now, Sir Harry?--Do you imagine they have discovered anything?"

"In truth I cannot say," answered Sir Harry West; "I hope and trust not, for no hint has been given, even of a suspicion. But, at all events, the Countess will let us know when we see her, for she is determined to gain some intelligence from Overbury; and you may trust to her shrewd wit for arriving at the truth."

"But what is to be done now?" cried Seymour again, in a tone of despair. "What is to be done now?"

"The first thing to be done," replied Sir Harry West, "is for you to come with me to the gamekeeper's cottage, and there to lie concealed, till the Countess sends us word that these people are gone. As for the rest, William, this is but a silly business. Methinks the world is losing its wits; and that for this same idle passion of love, men are casting from them all those great considerations which are, in fact, the first in life. Here is the Earl of Devonshire breaks down the noblest name that any man in his own day has created for himself, and all for what?--A harlot!"

"Oh, name her not," exclaimed Seymour, indignantly, "name her not in the same breath with Arabella. If that woman be not worth--as she is not--the lightest thought of an honourable man, she whom I love is surely, by her virtues as well as graces, an object for which any man might sacrifice the highest fortunes of the world without a sign. What is it that we seek on earth, but happiness, Sir Harry? All other objects of ambition are but means to that great end; and it is but in estimating well that in which happiness consists, that men show the difference of their natures. Where--I ask you, my good friend--where could I find any object equal to that I should lose in her, if she be lost?--to that which I shall gain in her, if she be gained? What can one win by the unfruitful glory of the sword, but the malediction of thousands, if we make it the object of ambition? The only just cause is our country's good; and noble love has always strengthened, rather than depressed, the powers and energies of those who fight in an honest quarrel. What are the poor contentions of the cabinet, or the small and mean ambitions of a Court? The weights under which all good things are pressed out of the felon spirit. But such love as I feel for her, and she for me, will not only give happiness to both, but, founded in high and honourable passion, will strengthen and support us in every principle of right, and every worthy endeavour."

"'Tis all very true, my young friend," replied Sir Harry West, "and I never for a moment thought of comparing this sweet lady with that bad woman, Rich. Nevertheless, with the impediments that have stared you in the face from the beginning, with the danger of bringing misery upon her as well as yourself, I cannot but say it would have been wiser far to have refrained, to have nipped the growing passion in the bud, and never to have let it take such firm root that it could not be plucked up. It is a silly business, Seymour, I repeat; and God send it prove not sad as well as silly.--However, as it has gone thus far, it must needs now go on; and I must help it, I suppose; for it is never fear for myself that urges me, when I strive to dissuade a friend from a dangerous course, which may involve me with him. We can determine upon nothing yet, till we hear what news the Countess has obtained.--On my life, I know not well my way to this gamekeeper's house, but as we are out of sight of the road it does not so much matter."

They wandered near half a mile out of their way; but at length, after considerable search, came to a keeper's dwelling in the wood, where the first question of Sir Harry West was, whether any message had been sent to him from the house.

"No, sir," replied the keeper's wife, who was busily preparing her husband's dinner against his return. "There has been nobody from the house at all. Shall I send up the little boy to see?"

Sir Harry answered in the negative, and only begged leave to remain there for a while with his friend, as he expected a messenger speedily.

Casting himself down on a chest in the window, Seymour gave himself up to his melancholy thoughts, while Sir Harry West stood in the door-way, watching against accident or surprise. We need not picture to the reader the state of mind of the disappointed lover as he sat there, with memory brooding over his broken hopes, and imagination darkening the future. One half hour passed by after another, and no one appeared, till at length the keeper himself came in, and instantly recognised the old knight and his young companion, both of whom he had previously seen.

"Which way did you come, Harding?" demanded Sir Harry.

"I came across the horse road from the water, sir," replied the man, "and should have been here before; but I just stopped for a minute, to give a clout on the head to one of those courtier fellows, who was teasing Lady Arabella's gentlewoman."

"Ha," cried Sir Harry West, with a look of immediate interest, "what gentlewoman was that?"

"She they call the Signora," answered the man, "and a nice young lady she is, though she do speak English with a queer outlandish twang."

"Where was this?" exclaimed the old knight, with his eyes sparkling with unwonted fire. "By Heaven! I will crop his ears for him, if he be one of the best of them."

"No need of that, sir," answered the man, "he's but a poor creature, and can't do any one much harm. I saw him run after the young lady from the lower terrace, and thought not much about it; but taking across the covert, to see after the game as I went, I came upon him a quarter of a mile up there, teasing her sadly. So I told him to let her alone; upon which he called me clown; and I gave him a touch--just a little touch,--with the flat of my hand upon the side of his head, when down he went like a ninepin. He got up again, however, and went off towards the house; so after that I said good day, ma'am, and came away--I hate those courtiers."

"So do I," replied the knight; "but this shows us, Seymour, that some of them are there still. So we must even share your pottage with you, Harding, for neither Mr. Seymour nor I will go, while they are there."

"Right welcome, sir, right welcome," replied the keeper; "this being Thursday, we always make plenty, to last till the end of the week."

As he spoke, a hand was laid upon the latch, and the next instant Ida Mara entered. As soon as she saw the old knight, who advanced to meet her, she put her hand in his with a look of deep and grateful affection, saying, "I have been stopped and troubled, sir, or I would have been here half an hour ago.--The Countess has sent me to tell you, that they are not gone. They stay over the noon meal. As soon as they are away, she will send to you."

As she spoke, she made a low inclination of the head to Seymour, but addressed herself to Sir Harry West.

"Who was this that troubled you?" asked the old knight; "the keeper has been telling me about him. Who was he, Ida? Old as I am, I am young enough to slit a coxcomb's ears."

"Mind him not, mind him not, dear Sir Harry," cried the girl, laughing. "At the Court I am obliged, very often, to give rude answers to such idle things as that. All I cared for was, that he followed me wherever I turned, and stopped me from coming hither."

"Then the Lady Arabella is not gone?" asked Seymour, somewhat impatient at this episode.

"Oh yes, sir," replied Ida Mara, "she went near two hours ago, leaving me to follow with one of the maids and her apparel."

Seymour cast down his eyes, and clasped one hand tight upon the other; and the girl, turning to the keeper, thanked him in as courteous terms and graceful language, as if she had been bred amongst the highest of the land. Then, looking to Sir Harry, she said, "I will go back now, sir, for fear they should track me here."

"You must not go alone," replied the old knight. "You may meet with insult by the way, my dear. I will go with you, till you are near the house."

"Let me go, sir," cried the keeper; "the jackanape will run fast enough if he sees me."

"That he will," replied Ida Mara; "but you struck him too hard. I thought you had killed him."

"Pooh!" answered the man, "I only gave him a touch. Those things ar'n't so easily killed,--they've got nine lives, like a cat. I'll be back again in a minute, good wife, so don't wait for me."

In about an hour and a half after Ida Mara's visit, a loud whoop was heard on the outside of the cottage, and Harding started up to open the door, crying "That's my Lord." "Come, Sir Harry, come," exclaimed the Earl of Shrewsbury, entering. "Come, Seymour, come, the land is clear of the enemy.--Bring their horses up, Harding.--How are you, William, how are you?" and he shook his young friend's hand cordially. "Nay, look not so sad," he continued, as they walked along; "all is not lost that is delayed. With such a politician behind your hand, as my good wife, you have nothing to fear. Whatever Mary Cavendish makes up her mind to have done, depend upon it will be done. If she were to set her heart upon marrying me to the prettiest lady of all the Court, I should expect that she would carry me to the altar within a week, and get an act of parliament for bigamy. It's lucky enough that what she determines is generally right, otherwise the world would soon be in confusion."

"But what has she discovered, my dear lord?" demanded Sir Harry West.

"Good faith, she must tell you all about it herself," replied the Earl. "I wish you could have been there to see how she twisted this politic boy, Overbury, round her finger; and without telling him anything but what was true, made him believe exactly what she liked. All I know is, that she is now his confidant, is aware of all his plans and purposes; and that he looks to her for help to carry them into execution, when, good life, if she does not thwart them all, I am not Shrewsbury.--Come, cheer thee up, William, cheer thee up, or my lady will call thee the melancholy man; she has had no name for poor Arabella since last night but Wheyface; and certainly the girl, what with fright at the thought of matrimony, and then fear of no matrimony, has lost half her roses. But as the Countess vows that you shall be married ere a fortnight pass, be you sure it will be so, if all the kings between this and Bagdad were to say you nay."

"That is some consolation at least, replied Seymour, with the first smile that had lighted his countenance since his arrival: and in such conversation they proceeded till they came within sight of the house, when, seeing the Countess walking upon the terrace, the young gentleman hurried his pace, and joined her before the other two came up.

"We have had a narrow escape, William," said Lady Shrewsbury, after the first salutation. "If these coxcombs had but waited a few hours, we should have had some unwelcome wedding guests."

"A most unfortunate event, indeed," replied Seymour, who could not master his disappointment. "Have you discovered how this accident befel?"

"Nay, call it not unfortunate, foolish fellow," replied the lady. "You young men, the moment they cannot have all their own way, look at nothing but the evil, though it be no bigger than a grain of seed, and forget to thank God for the good, though there be a mountain of it. We have more need to rejoice at our luck, than cry out upon fortune, even if it were but that we have escaped detection. But there's a great deal more than that; and it is altogether the luckiest turn that matters could have taken. I wish to heaven you could have seen this upstart Overbury, this minion's minion, with his wit and his wisdom, and how he helped to take himself in, both last night and this morning. 'Twas a rare sight, I can assure you. Here's my lord will tell you how I played the youth, as a skilful angler does a mighty trout; and how he floundered and spent his strength, till he was fain to let me land him on the bank, completely at my mercy. We spoke of all things, Arabella and you, and his own plans and purposes; and I explained to him in good set terms what I should expect for my niece, if ever she condescended to give her hand to Robert Carr. First, he must make her a duchess. There he was ready to meet me; he was sure the King would consent to that. Did he not make Philip Herbert knight, baron, viscount, and earl, in one day? and what could he refuse to Carr? Then I declared that I must have three thousand pounds per annum settled on the lady. This staggered him a little, the treasury being empty; but he ended by saying, that my Lord of Rochester's estates might well bear that; whereat I smiled upon him most graciously, fell into thought, and smiled again; after which he asked the meaning of my looks. I answered that he brought to my mind a bold ambassador, who, once suing to a king for something on which his master had set his heart, made no scruple to promise everything required as an equivalent. First, it was the hand of his sovereign's daughter; then an enormous dowry; then a province of the kingdom; and, when the other party asked in jest an island in the Indian Ocean, belonging to heaven knows whom, he replied, it too should be given--if it could be procured. Thereat he laughed, and said that he could assure me all he promised he could perform."

"What answered you to that, lady?" asked Seymour.

"I said--now for the island in the Indian Ocean," answered the Countess; "there is one thing more, good Sir Thomas Overbury, before I suffer my niece to be moved in this suit: I must see her freed entirely from the shackles with which the King has been pleased to fetter her. I must have in my hand the King's consent to her marrying a subject; otherwise she may be trifled with, her expectations raised, her affections gained, and then a flat refusal come at length, and all her hopes be blighted."

"But, dear lady," exclaimed Seymour; "methinks you were but showing him the road to travel to his object."

"Hush, silly youth," cried the Countess. "Do you recollect the story of that Grecian wench, who threw golden apples in the way of those with whom she ran a race? What did she want but time? and so did I. But the scheme answered better than my hopes. He replied, that I should have that too; to which I answered in a mocking tone, 'if it can be procured.' He hesitated a little, thought deeply, and then said, 'Madam, it has been procured.' This startled me; but I rejoined, 'For my own justification, sir, before I take one step, I must have it in my hand. Lord Rochester must send it to me.' Then came a longer fit of hesitation still, at the end of which, he answered, 'Lord Rochester has not got it, madam; but I have.' I felt so angry that I was afraid of myself, knowing right well that a look, or a word, might betray me; but I mastered it all, and ere he could see how frightened I was to find the matter had gone so far, I had got a look of sudden satisfaction on my face, which would have cheated the wicked One himself if he had been there. 'Indeed,' I cried; 'well, then, you have the game in your own hand; whenever you like to play that card, you may. But recollect, sir,' I added, in a lower tone, so that my good husband might not hear, for he might have spoiled all--'but recollect, sir, if I do give my consent, and bring this thing about--I do not say I will, remember--but if I do, I shall expect something for my Lord of Shrewsbury.' Could you have seen his face, William--he thought he had the whole secret now, as clearly as if I had laid my heart in his hand. He fancied Mary Cavendish one of his own greedy and exacting tribe, who would sell their soul's salvation for a rose noble; and he answered that what I wished would be easily accomplished. 'The Earl's rank and station,' he said, 'would ensure him anything he thought fit to ask,' and he added, 'if my playing that card, lady, be all that is required to win the game, here is the ace of trumps;' and thereupon, out of a silken book kept snugly in his pouch, he took a paper, and held it forth between his finger and thumb. Good faith, if I had known what it was, I would have clutched it in an instant; but I thought to see the name of Robert Carr staring me full in the face; and I cast about in my own mind what I should say to parry that, without undeceiving him; so I answered, 'We have not settled yet what the Earl is to receive; when you let me know what the King's bounty may be pleased to confer, it will be time for me to take the paper;' and I put it away with the back of my hand, as CÆsar did the crown. My very unwillingness deceived him more: had I longed for it, he would not have given it; but now he thrust it on me, 'Take it, madam, take it,' he said, 'and within a week you shall hear what can be done. I am sure your Ladyship will be moderate in your views, recollecting what a claim the union of your niece with a gentleman standing so high in the King's favour may establish for the future, even though you do not obtain all that you can desire at once.' I answered, proudly, that neither the House of Cavendish nor Talbot had ever showed themselves greedy or exacting. But that, of course, we should consult our own dignity; and so I took the paper--thinking that by accident it might fall into the fire. I did not look at it till he was gone. Luckily I did not, for I think I should have screamed with joy."

"What did you find?" cried Seymour, "what did you find?"

"His Majesty's full and despotic consent," exclaimed the Countess, "to Arabella's marriage with any subject she may choose in the realm. I clapped my hands till Shrewsbury thought me mad; and I have it safe, good youth, I have it safe."^[6]

The first expression on Seymour's countenance was joy, but the second was doubt and apprehension. "That is indeed something gained," he said, "yet I cannot but fear that you have pledged yourself, dear Countess, to aid in bringing about Arabella's marriage with this upstart minion of the King."

"And so I will," cried Lady Shrewsbury; "so I will, if she do not first give her hand to some one else. I know all you would say, so hold your tongue, for 'tis but folly. Granted that, with the encouragement he has received, this deputy love-maker may hurry on the affair; cannot I refuse whatever he offers? Leave woman's wit to frustrate man's policy. Believe me, you are no match for us in that. 'Tis only force we fear. Come hither, my good lord," she continued, raising her voice to the Earl, who stood talking with Sir Harry West upon the terrace below, "come hither, and give us your counsel; and you, good knight, come too."

The Earl mounted the steps with a good-humoured, but determined look, replying, as he came up, "I tell thee, housewife, I will have nought to do with it. Though you think you have gained a step, I see no great advantage; and all I say is, if the matter must go forward, the sooner it is done the better."

"It must go forward now, my Lord, I believe," said Sir Harry West; "I could have wished it had never been begun; but, as the lady's heart is fully engaged, as Seymour is mad upon this theme, and as--if I understand you right--she must either marry him, or that pitiful creature Carr, there is no choice. On my life! I would rather wed her myself than she should give her hand to that poor minion."

"Out, misanthrope!" exclaimed the Countess; "we will call him the woman-hater. He talks of wedding the sweetest lady in the land, as if it were giving himself over to purgatory."

"I should have said," replied Sir Harry; "it were better for her to marry me than Carr; for although, up to this present time, he has demeaned himself somewhat moderately, yet I see the seeds of strong, bad passions in him just shooting, and also that weakness of nature, which is, perhaps, more dangerous in a man placed at the height of power, than the worst qualities in one who has vigorous sense to guide or to restrain them. Miserable indeed will the woman be who links her fate with his."

"Arabella shall neither marry you nor him," replied the Countess, laughing. "Here stands the worshipful bridegroom elect; and the thing for us now to consider is, what is next to be done? It is now two of the clock; the good youth has ridden five-and-thirty miles; he must have some rest, and some food; but yet I would give a great deal, that he could show himself in Hertford to-night."

"That is easily done," replied William Seymour; "my horse will carry me well. 'Tis not more than forty miles, I think. But what is the object?"

"Nay," answered the Countess, "you can pause at Hatfield, then write me a short letter to my Lord of Salisbury, requesting permission to attend the Court. Send it off the instant you arrive: so will your visit here this day be concealed; and what I have said to Overbury will banish all fear."

"I rather fancy, fair dame," said the Earl, "your own plots and conspiracies make you think that the people suspect more than they do. When I was at the Court on Thursday last, the rumour of that business before the Council had blown by. Nobody thought of it any more; or if they did, 'twas but to laugh at it. Cecil said that the King seemed as jealous of the Lady Arabella as an Italian of his mistress, fancying people in love with her who never thought of her."

"Well, well," cried the Countess, impatiently, "we cannot be too secure. The lad shall have some dinner, and then set off. You must mount one of his servants, Shrewsbury; and if he follow my directions, ere four days be over Arabella shall be his. Come hither, come hither with me, William. You give orders about the horses, my Lord,--that is no part of the plot, you know;" and leaning upon Seymour's arm, she walked with him into the hall, where preparations for a meal were already made.

"There, sit down and refresh yourself," said Lady Shrewsbury, "and listen to me while you eat and drink. You need not stay in the room, Jonah."

The servant to whom she spoke withdrew, closing the door behind him, and the Countess then remained in thought for a moment, after which she exclaimed, "All we shall want is a parson; the banns have been duly published; I will bring up a certificate to that effect, and meet you at Greenwich to-morrow, or the next day. You must find some good serviceable priest, who will not scruple to join your hand and Arabella's in her own chamber or mine. Sir Harry West shall give her away; and you must provide yourself with another witness whom you can trust; for the dear girl's fair name must not suffer."

"Oh, Rodney, Rodney is the man," replied Seymour; "he is full of all excesses of love and honour; and there is no chance of his betraying our secret, if it be not in a sonnet addressed to my fair grandmother."

The Countess laughed, and her young friend proceeded: "He, too, I doubt not, can find me a clergyman, who will do all that is needful. Will you, dear lady, prepare Arabella? for it may so happen, that I have no opportunity of speaking to her alone."

"All that shall be done," answered the Countess; "and I, too, will take care to fix upon some day when the Court shall have business on its hands; so that our proceedings be unwatched. However, you must both get out of the country as fast as possible. Are you prepared with means?'

"All is done," answered Seymour. "Lord Hertford gave me a thousand pounds to pay our first expenses; the ship is in the mouth of the river, only waiting for us to sail. Now, lady, I am ready," he continued, rising.

"Nay, take another cup of wine," said the Countess; "have the priest, with a friend, prepared at Greenwich, and leave all the rest to me."

Seymour promised, with right good will, to fail in nothing that depended on him; and then, taking his leave of Lady Shrewsbury, he bade farewell to the Earl and Sir Harry West, mounted on his horse, and, followed by one servant, rode away across the country. So far the scheme proved successful: he reached Hertford in time to despatch a note to Lord Salisbury that night; and no one in the Court suspected that he had been in Buckinghamshire for many a month. Even Arabella herself heard on the following morning that he had been seen during the preceding evening, at a great distance from the spot where she had fancied he must be, and concluded that he must have obtained intelligence of Overbury's visit to Malvoisie.