Windsor Castle [43]
of the structure in which it was situated, and of which it formed a segment, the farther part of this chamber was almost lost to view, and a number of cross-beams and wooden pillars added to its sombre and mysterious appearance. The walls were of enormous thickness, and a narrow loophole, terminating a deep embrasure, afforded but scanty light. Opposite the embrasure sat Surrey, at a small table covered with books and writing materials. A lute lay beside him on the floor, and there were several astrological and alchemical implements within reach.
So immersed was the youthful prisoner in study, that he was not aware, until a slight exclamation was uttered by Wyat, of the entrance of the latter. He then arose, and gave him welcome.
Nothing material passed between them as long as the officer remained in the chamber, but on his departure Surrey observed laughingly to his friend, "And how doth my fair cousin, the Lady Anne Boleyn?"
"She has just ridden forth with the king, to hawk in the park," replied Wyat moodily. "For myself, l am ordered on a mission to France, but I could not depart without entreating your forgiveness for the jeopardy in which I have placed you. Would I could take your place."
"Do not heed me," replied Surrey; "I am well content with what has happened. Virgil and Homer, Dante and Petrarch, are the companions of my confinement; and in good sooth, I am glad to be alone. Amid the distractions of the court I could find little leisure for the muse."
"Your situation is, in many respects, enviable, Surrey," replied Wyat. "Disturbed by no jealous doubts and fears, you can beguile the tedious hours in the cultivation of your poetical tastes, or in study. Still, I must needs reproach myself with being the cause of your imprisonment."
"I repeat, you have done me a service," rejoined the earl."I would lay down my life for my fair cousin, Anne Boleyn, and I am glad to be able to prove the sincerity of my regard for you, Wyat. I applaud the king's judgment in sending you to France, and if you will be counselled by me, you will stay there long enough to forget her who now occasions you so much uneasiness."
"Will the Fair Geraldine be forgotten when the term of your imprisonment shall expire, my lord?" asked Wyat.
"Of a surety not," replied the earl.
"And yet, in less than two months I shall return from France," rejoined Wyat.
"Our cases are not alike," said Surrey. "The Lady Elizabeth Fitzgerald has plighted her troth to me."
"Anne Boleyn vowed eternal constancy to me," cried Wyat bitterly; "and you see how she kept her oath. The absent are always in danger; and few women are proof against ambition. Vanity--vanity is the rock they split upon. May you never experience from Richmond the wrong I have experienced from his father."
"I have no fear," replied Surrey.
As he spoke, there was a slight noise in that part of the chamber which was buried in darkness.
"Have we a listener here?" cried Wyat, grasping his sword.
"Not unless it be a four-legged one from the dungeons beneath," replied Surrey. "But you were speaking of Richmond. He visited me this morning, and came to relate the particulars of a mysterious adventure that occurred to him last night."
And the earl proceeded to detail what had befallen the duke in the forest.
"A marvellous story, truly!" said Wyat, pondering upon the relation. "I will seek out the demon huntsman myself."
Again a noise similar to that heard a moment before resounded from the lower part of the room. Wyat immediately flew thither, and drawing his sword, searched about with its point, but ineffectually.
"It could not be fancy," he said; "and yet nothing is to be found."
"I do not like jesting about Herne the Hunter," remarked Surrey, "after what I myself have seen. In your present frame of mind I advise you not to hazard an interview with the fiend. He has power over the desperate."
Wyat returned no answer. He seemed lost in gloomy thought, and soon afterwards took his leave.
On returning to his lodgings, he summoned
So immersed was the youthful prisoner in study, that he was not aware, until a slight exclamation was uttered by Wyat, of the entrance of the latter. He then arose, and gave him welcome.
Nothing material passed between them as long as the officer remained in the chamber, but on his departure Surrey observed laughingly to his friend, "And how doth my fair cousin, the Lady Anne Boleyn?"
"She has just ridden forth with the king, to hawk in the park," replied Wyat moodily. "For myself, l am ordered on a mission to France, but I could not depart without entreating your forgiveness for the jeopardy in which I have placed you. Would I could take your place."
"Do not heed me," replied Surrey; "I am well content with what has happened. Virgil and Homer, Dante and Petrarch, are the companions of my confinement; and in good sooth, I am glad to be alone. Amid the distractions of the court I could find little leisure for the muse."
"Your situation is, in many respects, enviable, Surrey," replied Wyat. "Disturbed by no jealous doubts and fears, you can beguile the tedious hours in the cultivation of your poetical tastes, or in study. Still, I must needs reproach myself with being the cause of your imprisonment."
"I repeat, you have done me a service," rejoined the earl."I would lay down my life for my fair cousin, Anne Boleyn, and I am glad to be able to prove the sincerity of my regard for you, Wyat. I applaud the king's judgment in sending you to France, and if you will be counselled by me, you will stay there long enough to forget her who now occasions you so much uneasiness."
"Will the Fair Geraldine be forgotten when the term of your imprisonment shall expire, my lord?" asked Wyat.
"Of a surety not," replied the earl.
"And yet, in less than two months I shall return from France," rejoined Wyat.
"Our cases are not alike," said Surrey. "The Lady Elizabeth Fitzgerald has plighted her troth to me."
"Anne Boleyn vowed eternal constancy to me," cried Wyat bitterly; "and you see how she kept her oath. The absent are always in danger; and few women are proof against ambition. Vanity--vanity is the rock they split upon. May you never experience from Richmond the wrong I have experienced from his father."
"I have no fear," replied Surrey.
As he spoke, there was a slight noise in that part of the chamber which was buried in darkness.
"Have we a listener here?" cried Wyat, grasping his sword.
"Not unless it be a four-legged one from the dungeons beneath," replied Surrey. "But you were speaking of Richmond. He visited me this morning, and came to relate the particulars of a mysterious adventure that occurred to him last night."
And the earl proceeded to detail what had befallen the duke in the forest.
"A marvellous story, truly!" said Wyat, pondering upon the relation. "I will seek out the demon huntsman myself."
Again a noise similar to that heard a moment before resounded from the lower part of the room. Wyat immediately flew thither, and drawing his sword, searched about with its point, but ineffectually.
"It could not be fancy," he said; "and yet nothing is to be found."
"I do not like jesting about Herne the Hunter," remarked Surrey, "after what I myself have seen. In your present frame of mind I advise you not to hazard an interview with the fiend. He has power over the desperate."
Wyat returned no answer. He seemed lost in gloomy thought, and soon afterwards took his leave.
On returning to his lodgings, he summoned