There was a grand pageant at the Court, on some one of those many occasions which, in that day, afforded the excuse for revelling and merriment, not of the most refined and intellectual kind. The morning had passed in tilting; there was a masque and dancing in the evening; and all the state rooms of the old palace at Greenwich had been thrown open, for the reception of guests invited from London and the neighbourhood, and for the multitude of noble persons, who usually thronged the royal residence.

There was music and dancing going on in the great hall; and beyond, through a vista of rooms and corridors, groups were seen moving about, glittering in all the splendid costume of that day; while the faces of servants and attendants might be caught peeping in at doorways and open windows, or hurrying about, either carrying refreshments to those who needed them, or to prepare for a grand banquet in the farthest hall of the suite, with which the pleasures of the night were to close.

Arabella Stuart, who had been dancing, in order not to seem unlike the rest, now stood in the group near the Queen; and to say the truth, although William Seymour was not present, she looked gayer and more cheerful than she had done for several days. Nor was the brightness of her aspect assumed, as had been too frequently the case in her short life; but it had a cause in the conduct of others. It was not that any particular attention or kindness had been shown to her, but rather the reverse; for she was well inclined to be as little noticed as possible. The truth is, however, that a scene was taking place before her eyes, which, however much it might offend the pure delicacy of her feelings, relieved her from a great apprehension.

Twice since she had been at the palace, Sir Thomas Overbury had found occasion to hint at Lord Rochester's suit; and although she had been but once seen by that personage himself, she had dreaded, when she entered the hall, that she might be the object of painful attentions. He was now before her, however, and seemed scarcely to know that she was in the room. His whole thoughts, his whole feelings, his looks, his conversation were absorbed by the bright and beautiful Countess of Essex; and never, perhaps, on any occasion was such a wild and shameless display of illicit love offered to the eyes of a multitude, as was now afforded by those two unhappy people.

The King looked on and laughed; but the Queen, even light as she was, felt pained and indignant; and Sir Thomas Overbury from time to time grasped his sword belt with an involuntary movement, nearly tearing it from his side.

His irritation was not particularly allayed by some words of the Countess of Shrewsbury, who, in passing near him, paused for a moment, and said, "You see, Sir Thomas! What must the Lady Arabella think of this?"

She waited for no answer, but walked on: and the young Knight turned to one of the windows, which were open to admit the air, for the night was hot and sultry.

Scarcely had the Countess quitted him, when a gentleman of two or three-and-thirty years of age, tall, graceful, and dressed in splendid but somewhat fantastic habiliments of sky-blue silk and gold, approached her, and asked if she would dance a measure.

"I am an old woman, Sir George," replied Lady Shrewsbury, looking round to several persons who stood near, "and though your taste may run in that way, I cannot favour you. Give me your arm, however; I will walk down the hall with you to get some breath, for here I am stifled."

They walked on beyond the dancers; and, as soon as they were somewhat clear of the numbers which thronged the hall, the Countess gave her companion an inquiring look.

"Now or never, beautiful lady," said Sir George Rodney; "the priest and Seymour are in the little antechamber, between the Lady Arabella's apartments and your own. Sir Harry West and the dark-eyed Italian girl are watching them, lest, like two lions, they should devour each other."

"But it is before the time," replied Lady Shrewsbury, "and I determined that I would not tell her a word, till the last moment. I have not an instant to do so."

"Nay, it is the time to a minute," answered Sir George Rodney; "they were long ere they began the dance. Seize the opportunity, lady, seize the opportunity. The happy moment always has swallow's wings. So catch it while you can."

"I will try and speak with her now," said the Countess, "and bring her away if possible; but we must have a little time. Come with me; I know you will be ready to play your part, whatever it may be;" and moving slowly back to the spot where Arabella stood, she placed herself next to her niece, while Sir George Rodney contrived to insinuate himself on the other side, between her and the Earl of Montgomery, who stood near.

"This gay gallant, Arabella," said the Countess, aloud, "wishes me to make myself ridiculous by dancing with him. Will you take compassion on him, fair niece?"

"It is too warm and close to be compassionate," replied Arabella, with a smile; "I will wait a little, Sir George, by your good leave."

At that moment, Lord Montgomery turned to answer some question of the Queen; and the Countess, approaching her lips close to Arabella's ear, whispered a few words in a hurried manner.

She had not calculated the degree of her niece's firmness well. A sudden paleness spread itself over Arabella's face; and after gasping a moment for breath, she sank down upon one of the low stools, while Lady Shrewsbury had just time to catch her drooping head upon her arm.

An immediate bustle took place around the spot; but Sir George Rodney exclaimed, "'Tis nothing but a swoon from the heat! She will be better in an instant, your Majesty. I will carry her into the ante-chamber for air;" and raising her, stool and all, he bore her through a door behind the throne, while the Countess supported her head.

Several persons followed, but returned one by one, saying that the lady was somewhat better; and some of the light wits began to laugh, and say that it was more the warmth of Lord Rochester's manner to the Countess of Essex, than the warmth of the room, that had affected the Lady Arabella. In a minute or two Lady Shrewsbury reappeared, and in a low tone told the Queen that her niece had somewhat recovered, but she feared would not be able to rejoin the royal party.

"We will take her to her own room," she said, "and, by your Majesty's gracious permission, I will sit with her for half-an-hour."

She then rejoined Arabella, who was seated in the antechamber, with Sir George Rodney still beside her, together with a young lady belonging to the Court.

"She will do well now, Lady Lucy," said the Countess; "pray go back to the Queen. Rodney and I will take care of her. Repeat her some of your verses, Sir George, and make her laugh.--Nay, indeed, I will not have you stay, sweet girl," she continued, taking her young friend by the hand, and leading her back to the door of the ball-room; "I will bring you a good account of her in half-an-hour.--Now Arabella," she added, in a low voice, when the door was closed, "be firm, my dear. Remember for what a stake we all play."

Arabella turned her eyes with a look of timid apprehension from the face of her aunt to that of Sir George Rodney.

"He knows all, my sweet niece," said the Countess; "he is to be one of the witnesses. Be resolute, my love, be resolute."

"I will, I will, dear aunt," replied Arabella, faintly; "but I was not prepared."

"The less preparation the better," answered the Countess. "Give her your arm, Sir George. Take mine on this side, Arabel.--Can you go?"

"One moment, one moment!" said Arabella, putting her hand before her eyes, while her lips moved in silence for an instant, as if the heart uttered some prayer unheard.

"Now I am ready," she added; and rising with their assistance, she suffered them to lead her slowly to her room. They entered by the door from the staircase; and she looked round anxiously, while the colour mounted into her cheek. Then seeing no one there but Ida Mara, who ran towards her and kissed her hand, she sank into a seat and bent down her fair head.

"Now lock that door," said the Countess, pointing to the one by which they had just come in.

Ida Mara hastened to obey; and Lady Shrewsbury continued, for a minute or two, to whisper words of comfort and support. She then made a sign to Ida Mara, who therefore opened the other door at the farther side of the chamber, and spoke for an instant to some persons behind. The moment after, there were steps heard in the room; but Arabella raised not her head, and remained with her cheek pale, and her eyes bent down upon the ground.

"Will you not speak to me, my beloved?" asked William Seymour, taking her hand.

"She has been ill, Seymour--she fainted," said the Countess of Shrewsbury. "I told her of the matter too abruptly."

"But have you any doubt or hesitation?" inquired William Seymour, still addressing Arabella; "if you have, speak, my beloved. I will never exact the fulfilment of a promise, from which you may wish yourself released. Have you any doubt or hesitation?"

"Oh, no, no, William," replied Arabella, with the colour mounting in her cheek: "none, none, whatsoever. Agitated I must be--apprehensive I cannot help being, but doubt or hesitation, I have none. With the same free heart wherewith I promised you my hand, I will give it now; and it is all I have to give. I wish it were a jewel worth an Emperor's crown, for your sake."

"It is worth more to me," answered Seymour, "than the brightest crown that ever graced this earth. Come, Arabella, all is ready, dear one."

"But tell me," asked Arabella, anxiously, "are we to fly to-night,--I fear I have scarcely strength."

"Oh, no," replied William Seymour, "'tis but that the indissoluble bond may bind us to each other, Arabella. We must choose the moment for flight afterwards, when opportunity serves."

Arabella still paused in thought, but the Countess took her hand, saying, "Come, dear girl, come! You must recollect that if I and Sir George Rodney are much longer away from the Court, it may be remarked."

The lady looked round; and seeing good Sir Harry West standing near, she held out her hand to him, saying, "Thank you, Sir Harry, this is very kind of you. You have indeed been a father to me often."

At that moment some one tried the door, which had been locked, and then knocked for admission; and, at a sign from the Countess, the whole party of gentlemen retired into the ante-room, between that chamber and her own apartments, while Ida Mara went slowly to the door, and asked who was there.

"It is I," answered the voice of one of Anne of Denmark's ladies.

"Open the door, girl, open the door," cried the Countess, aloud; and the moment after, a young and pretty woman entered, and, approaching Arabella, said, "Her Majesty has sent me to ask how you fare, dear lady."

"Present my humble duty to her," replied Arabella, whose frame trembled with agitation and alarm, "and pray tell her I am somewhat better. My aunt will stay with me a little while, I hope; but I fear I shall not be able to come down again to-night."

"She does not expect you," said the lady; "but I may tell her Majesty you are really better, may I not?"

"Oh, yes! much, much," answered Arabella; and with a kind nod and look, the girl hastened back to the gay scene, in which her young light heart found its pleasure, the door was once more locked, and the rest of the marriage party recalled to the room.

"I will not keep you any longer," said Arabella Stuart, rising, "it might be dangerous to you, Seymour.--I am quite ready," she added, raising her eyes to his face, while a warm blush covered her cheek. "This marriage is legal, sir, I suppose?" she continued, turning her eyes to the clergyman, who had come in with her lover and Sir Harry West.

"Quite, madam," he replied; "once celebrated, no power on earth can dissolve it, so long as the marriage-vow be kept."

Arabella bowed her head; and the parties being arranged in order, the ceremony proceeded, and concluded uninterrupted. Arabella answered firmly and confidently, and pledged herself for ever to William Seymour, with the fullest assurance of happiness, so far as it was in his power to bestow it.

"Now, Rodney, away," cried the Countess of Shrewsbury; "go round by the passages below, and in by the other door. Say, if any one asks, that you left the lady much better; and that I will be down in a few minutes. Away! away! Sir George!"

Sir George Rodney advanced a step, took Arabella's hand, and bending gracefully, pressed his lips upon it, and then retired by the Countess of Shrewsbury's apartments.

He was followed in a moment or two by the clergyman, and Sir Harry West; and in about half an hour, Lady Shrewsbury reappeared in the hall of the palace, and mingled with the gay crowd below.

Many were the inquiries after the Lady Arabella, from those who could love and appreciate virtue and excellence, though they might tolerate vice and folly. But Lady Shrewsbury answered, with her usual self-possession, that her niece was better, indeed quite well, but that she feared to encounter the heat again; and the subject soon dropped and was forgotten.