Windsor Castle [30]
as near as he could to the Fair Geraldine, and though but few opportunities occurred of exchanging a syllable with her, his looks spoke a sufficiently intelligible language. At last, just as they were about to return to the palace, he breathed in an imploring tone in her ear--
"You will attend vespers at Saint George's Chapel this evening. Return through the cloisters. Grant me a moment's interview alone there."
I cannot promise," replied the Fair Geraldine. And she followed in the train of the Lady Anne.
The earl's request had not been unheard. As the royal train proceeded towards the castle, Will Sommers contrived to approach the Duke of Richmond, and said to him, in a jeering tone "You ran but indifferently at the ring to-day, gossip. The galliard Surrey rode better, and carried off the prize."
"Pest on thee, scurril knave--be silent!" cried Richmond angrily; "failure is bad enough without thy taunts."
"If you had only missed the ring, gossip, I should have thought nothing of it," pursued Will Sommers; "but you lost a golden opportunity of ingratiating yourself with your lady-love. All your hopes are now at an end. A word in your ear--the Fair Geraldine will meet Surrey alone this evening."
"Thou liest, knave!" cried the duke fiercely.
"Your grace will find the contrary, if you will be at Wolsey's tomb-house at vesper-time," replied the jester.
"I will be there," replied the duke; "but if I am brought on a bootless errand, not even my royal father shall save thee from chastisement."
"I will bear any chastisement your grace may choose to inflict upon me, if I prove not the truth of my assertion," replied Sommers. And he dropped into the rear of the train.
The two friends, as if by mutual consent, avoided each other during the rest of the day--Surrey feeling he could not unburden his heart to Richmond, and Richmond brooding jealously over the intelligence he had received from the jester.
At the appointed hour the duke proceeded to the lower ward, and stationed himself near Wolsey's tomb-house. Just as he arrived there, the vesper hymn arose from the adjoining fane, and its solemn strains somewhat soothed his troubled spirit. But they died away; and as the jester came not, Richmond grew impatient, and began to fear he had been duped by his informant. At length the service concluded, and, losing all patience, he was about to depart, when the jester peered round the lower angle of the tomb-house, and beckoned to him. Obeying the summons, the duke followed his conductor down the arched passage leading to the cloisters.
"Tread softly, gossip, or you will alarm them," said Sommers, in a low tone.
They turned the corner of the cloisters; and there, near the entrance of the chapel, stood the youthful pair--the Fair Geraldine half reclining upon the earl's breast, while his arm encircled her slender waist.
"There!" whispered the jester, chuckling maliciously "there! did I speak falsely--eh, gossip?
Richmond laid his hand upon his sword.
"Hist!" said the jester; "hear what the Fair Geraldine has to say."
"We must meet no more thus, Surrey," she murmured:
"I feel I was wrong in granting the interview, but I could not help it. If, when a few more years have flown over your head, your heart remains unchanged
"It will never change!" interrupted Surrey. "I here solemnly pledge my troth to you."
"And I return the pledge," replied the Fair Geraldine earnestly. "I vow to be yours, and yours only."
"Would that Richmond could hear your vow!" said Surrey; "it would extinguish his hopes."
"He has heard it! "cried the duke, advancing. "But his hopes are not yet extinguished."
The Fair Geraldine uttered a slight scream, and disengaged herself from the earl.
"Richmond, you have acted unworthily in thus playing the spy," said Surrey angrily.
"None but a spy can surprise interviews like these," rejoined Richmond bitterly. "The Lady Elizabeth Fitzgerald had better have kept her chamber, than come here to plight her troth with a boy, who will change his mind
"You will attend vespers at Saint George's Chapel this evening. Return through the cloisters. Grant me a moment's interview alone there."
I cannot promise," replied the Fair Geraldine. And she followed in the train of the Lady Anne.
The earl's request had not been unheard. As the royal train proceeded towards the castle, Will Sommers contrived to approach the Duke of Richmond, and said to him, in a jeering tone "You ran but indifferently at the ring to-day, gossip. The galliard Surrey rode better, and carried off the prize."
"Pest on thee, scurril knave--be silent!" cried Richmond angrily; "failure is bad enough without thy taunts."
"If you had only missed the ring, gossip, I should have thought nothing of it," pursued Will Sommers; "but you lost a golden opportunity of ingratiating yourself with your lady-love. All your hopes are now at an end. A word in your ear--the Fair Geraldine will meet Surrey alone this evening."
"Thou liest, knave!" cried the duke fiercely.
"Your grace will find the contrary, if you will be at Wolsey's tomb-house at vesper-time," replied the jester.
"I will be there," replied the duke; "but if I am brought on a bootless errand, not even my royal father shall save thee from chastisement."
"I will bear any chastisement your grace may choose to inflict upon me, if I prove not the truth of my assertion," replied Sommers. And he dropped into the rear of the train.
The two friends, as if by mutual consent, avoided each other during the rest of the day--Surrey feeling he could not unburden his heart to Richmond, and Richmond brooding jealously over the intelligence he had received from the jester.
At the appointed hour the duke proceeded to the lower ward, and stationed himself near Wolsey's tomb-house. Just as he arrived there, the vesper hymn arose from the adjoining fane, and its solemn strains somewhat soothed his troubled spirit. But they died away; and as the jester came not, Richmond grew impatient, and began to fear he had been duped by his informant. At length the service concluded, and, losing all patience, he was about to depart, when the jester peered round the lower angle of the tomb-house, and beckoned to him. Obeying the summons, the duke followed his conductor down the arched passage leading to the cloisters.
"Tread softly, gossip, or you will alarm them," said Sommers, in a low tone.
They turned the corner of the cloisters; and there, near the entrance of the chapel, stood the youthful pair--the Fair Geraldine half reclining upon the earl's breast, while his arm encircled her slender waist.
"There!" whispered the jester, chuckling maliciously "there! did I speak falsely--eh, gossip?
Richmond laid his hand upon his sword.
"Hist!" said the jester; "hear what the Fair Geraldine has to say."
"We must meet no more thus, Surrey," she murmured:
"I feel I was wrong in granting the interview, but I could not help it. If, when a few more years have flown over your head, your heart remains unchanged
"It will never change!" interrupted Surrey. "I here solemnly pledge my troth to you."
"And I return the pledge," replied the Fair Geraldine earnestly. "I vow to be yours, and yours only."
"Would that Richmond could hear your vow!" said Surrey; "it would extinguish his hopes."
"He has heard it! "cried the duke, advancing. "But his hopes are not yet extinguished."
The Fair Geraldine uttered a slight scream, and disengaged herself from the earl.
"Richmond, you have acted unworthily in thus playing the spy," said Surrey angrily.
"None but a spy can surprise interviews like these," rejoined Richmond bitterly. "The Lady Elizabeth Fitzgerald had better have kept her chamber, than come here to plight her troth with a boy, who will change his mind