Nurse Crumpet Tells The Story

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Title:     Nurse Crumpet Tells The Story
Author: Amelie Rives [More Titles by Rives]

Time.--A bitter January night in the year of
Grace 1669.

Scene.--Sunderidge Castle--The great hall--A
monstrous fire burning in the big fireplace--Nurse
Crumpet discovered seated on a settle--At her
either knee lean the little Lady Dorothy and her
brother, the young Earl of Sunderidge, Lord
Humphrey Lennox.

Nurse Crumpet.--Nay, now, Lady Dorothy, why wilt thou be at the pains o' such a clamoring? Sure thou hast heard that old tale o'er a hundred times; and thou too, my lord? Fie, then! Wouldst seek to flatter thy old nurse with this seeming eagerness? Go to! I say thou canst not in truth want to hear me drone o'er that ancient narrative. Well, then, an I must, I must. Soft! Hold my fan betwixt thy dainty cheeks and the blaze, sweetheart, lest the fire-fiend witch thy roses into very poppy flowers. And thou, my lord, come closer to my side, lest the draught from the bay-window smite thee that thou howlest o' th' morrow with a crick i' thy neck. Well, well, be patient. All in time, in time. Soft, now! Ye both mind that I was but a little lass when thy grandmother, the Lady Elizabeth Lennox, did take me to train as her maid-in-waiting. I was just turned sixteen that Martlemas, and not a fair-sized wench for my years either. Would ye believe? I could set my two thumbs together at my backbone in those days, and my ring-fingers would all but kiss too.

Lord Humphrey.--Ha! ha! Nurse, thy fingers would be but ill satisfied lovers under those conditions nowadays. Eh, Dolly?

Lady Dorothy.--Hold thy tongue for an unmannerly lad, Humphrey. Do not thou heed him, nurse, but go on with thy story.

Nurse Crumpet.--For all thy laughter, my lord, I'd a waist my garter would bind in those days, and was as light on my toes as those flames that dance i' th' chimney. Lord! Lord! how well I mind me o' th' first time that e'er I clapt eyes on Jock Crumpet! I was speeding home with a jug o' water from the spring, and what with his staring as he stood at the road-side to let me pass, and what with a root i' th' way, I all but lost my footing. Yet did I swing round alone, holding fast my jug, and ne'er one blessed drop o' water spilled I, for all my tripping. "By'r lay'kin!" quoth he, "thou'rt as light on thy feet as a May wind, and as I live I will dance the Barley Break with thee this harvesting or I will dance with none!" And i' faith a was as good as his word, for by hook or by crook, and much scheming and planning, and bringing o' gewgaws to my mother, and a present o' a fine yearling to my father, that harvesting did I dance the Barley Break with Jock Crumpet. And a was a feather-man in a round reel.

Well, 'twas the year o' my meeting with Jock, thou mindst. (And a cold winter that was--Christ save us! There be ne'er such winters nowadays. This night is as a summer noon i' th' comparison.) 'Twas the year o' my first meeting with Jock, and my lady, your grandmother, sent for me to the castle, to be her waiting-maid. Lord! 'twas a troublous time! What with joy at my good fortune, and sorrow at quitting my mother, I was fain to smile with one corner o' my mouth and look grievously with the other, like a zany at a village fair. And Jock, he would not that I went, for that he could not see me, or consort wi' me so often: Jock was aye honey-combed wi' th' thing ye call "sentiment." A would grin on a flower I had wov'n in my locks by th' hour together. And 'tis my belief a could a spun him a warm doublet out o' the odds and ends o' ribbon and what not he had filched from me when my eyes were elsewhere. And Jock--but 'tis neither here nor there o' Jock. In those days thy grandmother had only one child, a little lass, the Lady Patience. And ne'er was man or maid worse named; for to call such a flibbertigibbet "Patience" were as though one should name a frisksome colt "Slumber," or christen a spring brook "Quiet." Patience, quotha! 'Twas patience in truth a body had need of, who was thrown at all with her little ladyship. But there was ne'er so beautiful a maiden born in all the broad land of England; nor will be again--not though London Tower be standing when the last trump sounds. Meseemed she was an elf-sprite, so tiny was she; and her face like a fair flower, so fresh and pure. Her hair was shed about her face like sunlight on thistle-down, and her eyes made a shining behind it, like the big blue gems in her mother's jewel-box. When she laughed, it was as water falling into water from a short height, with ripples, and little murmurs, and a clear tinkling sound. But she was ne'er more at rest than the leaves on an aspen-tree. Hither and thither would she flit, this way and that, up and down, round and round, backward and forward, about and about. I' faith, ofttimes would I be right dizzy come nightfall, with following of her; for ere I had been at the castle a day, she took so mighty a fancy to me, that naught would do but she must have me for her maid; and so my lady, who (God pardon my boldness!) did utterly spoil her in all things, gave me unto her as a nurse-maid.--But sure ye are a-weary o' this old tale!

Lady Dorothy and Lord Humphrey in a breath.--Nay, go on, go on.

Nurse Crumpet.--Well, well, o' all the story-loving bairns! But I must invent me a new history for the next time o' telling.

Lord Humphrey.--Nay, that thou shalt not. We will ne'er like any as well as we like this one. So despatch.

Nurse Crumpet.--But my lady had also an adopted daughter, a niece o' my lord's--one Mistress Marian Every--and she walked beside the little Lady Patience as night might walk beside day, for she was as brown o' skin as a mountain stream, and her hair like a cloud at even-tide, dark, but of no certain color, albeit as soft as ravelled silk, and marvellous hard to comb on account o' its fineness. Mistress Marian was full head and shoulders taller than her cousin, the Lady Patience, and she could lift her aloft in her arms, and swing her from side to side, as a supple bough swings a bird. And her eyes were dark, and cool to gaze into, like a pool o' clear water o'er autumn leaves, and sometimes there were glints o' light in them, like the spikes i' th' evening-star when thou dost gaze steadily upon it. Black and white were not more different than were they, and they resembled even less in mind than they did in body. When Lady Patience waxed wroth, her cheeks burned like two coals, and thou couldst hear her little teeth grinding together, like pebbles squeezed i' th' palm o' thy hand; but when Mistress Marian was an-angered, the blood rushed back to her heart, and she was whiter than a lamb at the shearing, and her lips like white threads. Then would the light shoot and spin in her eyes, and her nostrils suck in and out, like those of a fretful horse. And she was fierce after the manner of a man rather than of a maid. Moreo'er, she was full a year younger than the Lady Patience; but she looked it not; rather did her ladyship look full two years younger than Mistress Marian. And I loved them both, and tried as a Christian not to prefer one before the other; but what with my lady's stealings of her arms about my neck as I sat at my stitchery, and popping of comfits in my pocket when I would be otherwise engaged, and teasings, and ticklings, and sundry other pretty witcheries which I do not at this day recall, I was fairly cozened into loving her the best. (Honey, I charge thee hold my fan betwixt thee and the fire.) But to continue.--Mistress Marian was aye courteous and kindly to me as heart could wish, and every night did she thank me i' th' prettiest fashion, when I had combed and unpinned her for the night; but, Lord! I had much ado to get Lady Patience combed or unpinned at all! First would she jump with both knees upon mine, and hug my very breath away; then, when I had at last coaxed her to get down, first she would perch on one leg and then o' the other, and then be a-twisting her head now over this shoulder, now over that, to see how I came on with the unpinning, that it was with a prayer to God that I finally set her night-gown over her shoulders, and led her to bed. As for her prayers--Jesu aid me and pardon her!--'twas a matter of hours to get her to say "Our Father" straight through, what with her vowing that she wished not bread every day, and how that if his lordship her father forgave not trespassers (for I could ne'er draw the difference between trespasses and trespassers into her pretty pate), neither would she; and how she did not believe God would lead her into temptation at any time, but that it was the Devil; and how it must anger God even to think of such doings on His part--what, I say, with all this, methought sometimes it would be cock-crow ere I got her safely to sleep. And all this time Mistress Marian would be lying as quiet as any mouse, with her big plait of hair between her fingers, for so she always slept, with her hair fast in her hands, as though she loved its beauty; and in truth it was the one great beauty she had, for my little lady put her out with her glitter as the sunlight doth extinguish a morning moon.

Now I had been at the castle scarce two months when one day it chances that I hear my lady a-telling o' my lord how as her brother, Lord Charles Radnor, dying wifeless, had left his only son to her care until he should come of age. And on that Tuesday the little lord set foot in the castle; and my lady was down at the door-way to meet him, in a new velvet gown, with her wimple sewn in fine pearls, and my lord with her; but my two nurslings waxed shy at the last minute, and would not come down, but leaned and peered through the posts o' the stair-rail, and my little lady let fall one o' her shoes in her eagerness to glimpse at her new cousin. And straightway ran the lad and lifted the wee shoe, and looked upward, laughing, and my lord and lady having retired into the dining-hall, to see that some cold viands were in readiness (it being then near to nightfall, though not yet supper hour).--"Ho! thou little cinder witch," cried he; "I am the prince that has found thy shoe, and when I shall have found thee, if that thy temper be as small as thy shoe, fear not but that I will kiss thee too!" With that, he ran up the stair-way, two and three steps at a leap.

And I followed, for I knew not what would happen an he claimed his kiss as he had threatened (knowing as did I, that in verity my lady's shoe would a been a tight fit for her temper).

But when he was arrived at the top, lo! they had both fled, neither had they left so much as a ribbon behind them. Then the lad laughed again, as pleasant a laugh as e'er I heard in all my days, and quoth he, "I would be but a poor prince an I had not to search for my little princess." So off he starts, and I after him, up and down corridors, in at half-open doors, out upon balconies, hither and thither, after the manner o' my little lady on her most unquiet days, till at last, for the sake o' peace, I did slyly lead him in the direction o' the great nursery. There, catching sight o' a little red petticoat, he enters, where stand my truant elves confessed, Mistress Marian frowning and biting o' her dark hair, but my little lady like to stifle, with both hands over her mouth to hide her smiles, and her blue eyes dancing a very Barley Break o' mirth among the yellow sheaves o' her tresses.

Then there was much parley o'er the fitting o' the shoe, as both damsels did straightway sit down upon their feet, neither for a long time would they move an eyelash, till his lordship, with a twink o' his eye at me, did suggest corns and bunions as a reason for their 'havior--and, Lord! then 'twas pretty to mark how like little chicks beneath their dam's feathers, first one little foot and then the other did steal out from the rich lace o' their petticoats. And ere one could cry "Oh!" for a pinch, he had slipt the shoe on my little lady's wee foot, and had kissed her right heartily. Moreo'er, what I did most marvel at, was that she neither cuffed nor sought to cuff him, but dropt down her head until her hair made a veil before her face, and moved that foot whereon he had set her shoe, gently back and forth as though the leather was stiff to her ankle, and I saw that she looked at it from under her heavy hair. But Mistress Marian still held aloof, and chewed upon her dark locks like a heifer on its cud. And her eyes were every whit as dark and solemn as a very cow's. Then the young lord laughed again, and cried out, "Ha! the ox-eyed June!" or some such apery, and went and kneeled before her in mock fashion, as before a queen, and quoth he, "Fair goddess" (for 'twas afterwards explained to me what manner of being was a goddess, namely, some kind of a foreign fairy)--"Fair goddess," quoth he, "show me how I may dispel thy wrath." And still she scowled on him, but spoke no word. And he continued, and said, "I prithee, fair lady, cast but one smile upon thy humble knight" (thou mind'st their pretty foolery has stuck i' my old pate unto this day).

Then she answered and saith, "Thou silly lad, how can I be a goddess and a lady both in one? Thou hast not even enough wit to make a good fool. So!" (for Mistress Marian had a sharp tongue at times).

But he was not so much as ruffled, and laughed even again, most heartily. And he said, "I do perceive that thou art not fashioned either as goddess or lady, therefore be my comrade, and we will fight together for the weal o' yon fairy princess." All at once she laughed too, and yielded him her hand, and said, "I like thee. What is thy name?"

He said, "My name is Ernle; and I like thee too; therefore, I pray thee, tell me thine."

So she told him, and my little lady sidling up, the three fell presently a-chattering like linnets at sunrise, and from that hour on I had no trouble with them.

'Twas pretty to mark them at their fantasies. They were aye out-o'-door save when 'twas rainy weather, and then methought the castle had scarce room enough for them. In all their games Mistress Marian was the little lord's comrade, and wore a helmet o' silvered wood, and carried a wooden sword silvered to match her head-gear, and the little lord was likewise apparelled. And he called her ever "Comrade," and clapped her o' th' shoulder, as mankind will clap one the other when conversing.

But my little lady, they both agreed, was a fairy princess; and, Lord, Lord! 'twould take me from now 'til Martlemas next to name the perilous 'scapes that did befall her. They fished her out of moats, they bore her from blazing castles, they did drag her from the maws o' dragons and other wild beasts I know not how to name. Thrice was the little Lord of Radnor in dire straits at the claws o' goblin creatures. Three times did his comrade rescue him by thwacking upon the chair which did represent the dreadful beast, till I was in sore dread there would be no mending of it, and me, mayhap, dismissed from the castle for carelessness. And always when 'twas all o'er, and the little princess in safety, I was called upon to act parson and wed my little lady to the little lord, while Mistress Marian leaned on her sword to witness the doings.

One day, in their rovings through the park, they came by chance upon a door in the hill-side, but so o'ergrown with creeping vines that, had not the little lord stumbled upon it, 'twas very like it had been there to this day without discovery. Well, no sooner do they see the door than they must needs open it, spite o' all my scolding, and peer within. 'Twas but a darksome hole, after all--a kind o' cave i' th' hill-side, which they did afterwards find out from thy grandfather was used in days gone by for concealing treasures in time of war. And indeed it seemed a safe place, for there were two rusty bolts as big as my arm, one o' th' inside and one o' th' outside, and the creeping things hid all. As thou mightst think, it grew to be their favorite coigne for playing their dragon and princess trickeries. I would sit with my stitchery on a fallen log in the sunshine, while they ran in and out o' th' grewsome hole. But in all their frolicking my little lady could ne'er abide the sight o' their swords, and she pleaded ever for gentler games. One day (I shall ne'er forget, though I live to see doomsday) they did crown her a queen, and then my lord would have it that she dubbed him her knight. She pleaded that prettily against it methought the veriest boor in Christendom would a given in to her, but my little lord was stanch. So they made her a throne o' flowers, and when she was seated thereon, Mistress Marian handed her the great wooden sword, and my lord, kneeling, bade her strike him on the shoulder with the flat side o' th' sword, saying, "Rise, Sir Ernle, my knight for evermore!"

She got out the words as he bade her, but when 't came to the stroke, what with her natural fright, and what with the sunlight on the silver, she brought down the heavy blade edgewise on the boy's pate, laying wide quite a gash above his left eyebrow, so that the blood trickled down his cheek. When she saw that, meseemed all the blood in her body went to keep his company, for she turned whiter than her smock, and ran and got her arm about him and saith, o'er and o'er again, "Ernle! Ernle! I have killed thee!"

He laughed, to comfort her, and made light of it, and wetting his finger in the blood, drew a cross on his brow and said, "Nay, thou hast not killed me. And moreo'er, I am not only thy knight, but thy Red Cross Knight into the bargain, and thou my lady forever. See! I will seal thee with my very blood!" and ere she could draw back, he had set also a cross on her white brow. She shuddered and fell a-weeping, and drew her hand across her brow to wipe away the ugly stain; and when she saw that she had but smeared it on her hand, she trembled more than ever, and it was not for some days that I could quiet her.

I do but relate this story, to show in what horror my little lady did ever hold swords and bloodshed.

Well, to continue--

This could not last for aye, and when two more years were sped, his uncle sent the little lord to a place o' learning; and afterwards to travel to and fro upon the earth, after the manner of Satan in the Book of Job (God forgive me! but 't has ever seemed like that to me). And we set not eyes on him for eight years. Now in that time, lo! I was married, and my little lady and Mistress Marian in long kirtles, and their hair looped up upon their heads. Mistress Marian was yet full head and shoulders above my little lady, and her skin as brown as ever. But my little lady was as bright and slender as a sun-ray.

They would speak to me sometimes of Lord Radnor, and how that great folks were saying great things of him, and how he was become a soldier and a marvellous person altogether; but as the years went by they seemed not so ready to talk o' him, only sometimes my little lady would pull down my head as I smoothed the bedclothes over her at night, and quoth she, "Nurse, dost think he will be much changed? My hair hath not darkened much, hath it? Dost think his curls will be different from what they were when he was a lad?" And I would have to tell her "No" a dozen times ere she would let me go. But Mistress Marian said never a word.

One day I learned of my lady how that Lord Radnor was to return the next week, and meseemed in truth the whole castle was waxed distraught.

It is not in my power to tell o' th' doings, but suffice it to say, my lord did cozen them all, and come a full day ere he was expected.

When he came, Mistress Marian was standing i' th' great door o' th' castle, in her hawking gown o' green velure cloth laced all with silver cord; her plumed hat was on her curls, and her hawk, Beryl, on her fist. And she turned and beheld him. Ne'er did I see verier light in earth or sky, than flashed into her face as their eyes met. And he doffed his hat, and came up beside her on the step, and saith, with the old laugh, but gentler, "Well met, comrade."

Now when he called her "comrade," 'twas as when Jock did call me "sweetheart" in the days o' our wooing. She went red as the ribbon in his sleeves; and when the falcon fretted and shook its bells, he did put out his hand and stroke it, and, lo! it was still, and seemed to feel him as its master. And I wondered all this time where could be my little lady.

To this day I have ne'er seen so handsome a man as the young lord. He was tall and straight as an oak, with curls the color of frost-touched oak-leaves i' th' sunlight, and eyes like the amber drink when men hold it aloft ere quaffing, and his whole countenance bright and eager, and narrow like that o' a fox, but without a fox's cunning. Then he seemed fashioned to run, and ride, and war, as doth become all men, whether of high or low estate.

Then went I within to inquire after my little lady; and Jock, who was become a footman i' th' castle, did tell me of how he had seen her set forth to walk i' th' park an hour gone. So straightway I went in search of her.

I had gone some six hundred paces when, at a sudden turning, I came upon her, where she held a little urchin a-straddle of her big deer-hound "Courage." The child gave chuckles o' delight as he slipped from side to side, and the sun through the beech-leaves made their heads as like as two crown pieces. Even as I was about to lift up my voice to halloo unto her, lo! my lord doth part the thick branches, and steps forth a little behind her, and stands watching her. And as he did stand there, behold, a look came o'er his face, that was stranger than any look I had e'er seen on th' face of man or of woman, and his eyes were no more bright and eager, but deep and soft. Then she turned and went direct towards him unknowing.

When she was beside him, still laughing and half out o' breath with balancing o' th' heavy boy, he saith these two words, "My lady," and methought there was a whole year's love-making o' ordinary men crammed into them. Quoth I to myself: "Ah, my little lord, so thou hast that trick with thee! God keep my little ladies! for if the tongue be a fire, how must it burn when such a wit doth wag it!" And I determined in my heart that by some means I would warn my little lady of his sweet speecheries. Yet was I tender towards him for the sake o' by-gone days. Mayhap, moreover, his comely face had something to do with it, for, i' fecks, ne'er saw I a goodlier countenance on Roundhead or Cavalier.

Now when my lady heard his voice at her ear, first gives she such a start as doth a mettlesome filly when a hare jumps out before it, then stock-still stands she, and her face whiter than a wind-flower, and her lips a-tremble as if to speak, but no word comes from them.

He saith again, "My lady."

I saw by the moving of her lips that she fashioned the words "My God!" but still she spoke not. And the child began to whimper and clutch at her kirtle, for she had loosened her hold of him, and he feared falling off of the big dog. So she put one arm about him to hold him, but her eyes were yet upon his lordship.

Then he came and lifted her hand to his breast, and it lay upon his dark-green doublet, as a white flower-leaf doth upon grass, and he saith to her, "Sweetheart, dost thou not know me?"

All at once, for what, God only knoweth, she fell a-weeping, and he had her in his arms. And being some two years a mother, my care was all for the poor little rogue on the deer-hound; 'twas as much as I could do to hold back from running and snatching him in my arms to soothe his terror.

Howbeit, ere that I could commit this madness, the frighted babe set up such a howl as only a man-child can utter, and my lady turned to him in great haste, and my lord also did set about comforting him. Then they walked slowly on, and my lord held the little lad on one side, and my lady coaxed him o' th' other. Ever and anon my lord would look from the babe to my lady, and then from my lady to the babe. And a smile just lifted the corners o' his mouth, as sometimes a wind will just stir the leaves ere shaking them as with jollity. I followed cautiously at some distance, and by-and-by his lordship said, "How was it that thou didst not know me, coz? Faith thou art shot up like a lily i' th' sun, but lilies are aye lilies, and leaving thee a lily, I find thee a lily still, though blooming on a taller stem."

And she answered him: "Yea, cousin, and oaks are aye oaks, though first they be saplings, then trees. And in truth I knew thee by thy voice ere I looked at thee; but 'twas all so sudden, that i' faith I was frightened at thee."

And he said, "But thou art glad to see me?"

And being busy with the child, she answered him without lifting her head, "Thou knowest that I am."

Then did he laugh a little, and saith, "How should I know, coz? Proof, proof, I pray thee. Wilt thou not give me the kiss o' welcome after all these years?"

Now he had not offered to kiss Mistress Marian. Therefore I waited right curiously to see what my little lady would say unto his offer, and Jock having dinned it into my ears ever since our wedding-day, that all women were by nature eavesdroppers, I was of a mind to prove his theory for him; so I not only listened with all my ears, but I looked with all my eyes.

My lady waxed first ruddy, then like to milk, then ruddy again, and she reached out her hand to him across the hound. "In truth I will, cousin," quoth she.

He did take the little hand in his, putting down his other hand softly over it, as when one holds a frighted bird, and he looked at her as though he would pierce her lids with his gaze, for her eyes were down, and he saith, "Sweetheart, right gladly will I give this pretty hand the kiss o' an eternal welcome; but methinks thou hast begged the question. I pleaded to receive a kiss rather than to bestow one."

And her face was like a bended rose. Then did he step round quickly beside her, and once more was the poor babe left in dire terror o' his life, and he made up a piteous face, but the dog standing still, he fell to rattling its collar, and soon waxed merry with the jingle o' th' silver. So I looked again at my lady and Lord Radnor.

He had taken her about her waist with one arm, and with the other hand he lifted gently upward her fair face, as doth a gardener a rain-beaten flower, while his eyes looked down into hers. And slowly, slowly, almost as rose-leaves unfurl i' th' sun, her white lids curled upward, and her blue eyes peered softly from her yellow locks like corn-flowers through ripe corn, there being a tear in each, as when a rain-bead doth tremble i' th' real corn-flowers. And, to be the more like nature, there ran big waves throughout her loosened tresses, like as when the wind doth steal across a field o' grain on summer noons.

Then he bended down his tall head, and their lips met. God alone knows what their first words would a been, for ere the kiss was well ended, down falls the poor little rogue off of the hound's back, and lifts up his voice loud enow to be heard across the sea by the red men i' the new continent. And my lady runs and lifts him in her arms. Lord! such an ado as they had a-comforting him! First my lady, then my lord, then my lady again--and at last my lord tosses him to his shoulder, and saith he,

"Ho! thou little Jack Pudding! an thou art not still o' th' instant, I'll swear thou art a girl, an' thou shalt ne'er have a sword such as men have."

And as I live, the child stinted, and waxed as solemn as an owl! Not another tear did he shed. My lord saith, "Now thou art a good lad, therefore thou shalt have my sword to play with." And he unbinds it from his side, scabbard and all, and holds it while the urchin gets astride o't and pretends to ride. When my lord is tired o' stooping, he lifts the child again to his shoulder, and so do they conduct him back to his mother, the gardener's wife. From thence they return to the castle, and are met by my lord and lady and all the servants, while I haste me in by a side door to get on my Sunday kirtle and appear with the rest.

As time wore on, the three were as much together as when he was a little lad and they lassies, and sometimes from a window, and sometimes from a quiet coigne in the great hall (this very hall, ye mind, dears), I would sit with my stitchery and mark them at their bright chatter.

But often Mistress Marian would come and sit against my knee, even as thou art sitting now, sweetheart, and ask me to stroke her hair, and when she would coax Lord Ernle's big blood-hound "Valor" to come and lie beside her, she would sit more quiet, almost as though she were asleep. And she would ask me ever and again, "Nurse, wherefore are women at any time born with dark hair, to mar ev'n such small comeliness as they might otherwise have?"

And always I would answer, "Tut! thou knowest not of what thou speakest, my honey; in the sight o' some, dark hair is more comely than fair hair." And always she would shake her head, and smile i' th' fashion o' one who knows better than another. But she was a wondrous fair woman, in spite o' her own thinking, and shaped like the brown metal wench over yonder with the bow and arrows. Diana, say ye? Why, even so; so it was that his lordship called her when he did not call her "comrade."

Now young Sir Rowland Nasmyth (him who was father to that Sir Rowland who wedded your sister the Lady Anne last Michaelmas, ye mind, dears), he would be often over for a day, or maybe several days, at the castle; and all four would ride a-hawking, or ramble together, two by two, through the park; or Lord Ernle and Sir Rowland would play at rackets, and i' fecks 'twas a sight to see 'em at it! One day my little lady and Sir Rowland (who was a fair stripling, with curls near the color o' Mistress Marian's, and eyes the tinting o' the far sea on a rainy day) did wander off together, and Mistress Marian and my lord were left alone, seated on a rude bench under one o' th' great beech-trees that flank the hall door. He leaned forward and rested an elbow on either knee, and did let his racket swing back and forth between them, and sat looking down on it. Mistress Marian's gaze was upon him, but her big hat made so deep a shadow o'er her eyes withal that I could not note them clearly. So stayed they for some moments.

Then all in a breath did Lord Ernle start erect and push back his heavy locks and speak. "Comrade," saith he, "wilt thou call me an ass for my pains, I wonder, an I tell thee o' something that is troubling me sorely?"

She, having in no wise moved from her first position, and her eyes still in shadow, saith, "I pray thee say on, Ernle, for such words as thou hast just spoken to me are idle."

And he leaned forward and took one of her long brown hands in his, but 'twas different from the way in which he had ta'en my little lady's hand at their first meeting, and he saith, "Comrade, for thou hast e'er been my true and loyal comrade, Marian--sweet comrade-cousin--this is the matter that doth eat my heart. Dost think there is aught between Patience and that young coxcomb?"

There came a red mark all across her brow, as though he had smitten her, for with her sudden movement her hat had fallen upon the ground at her feet. And she put up her hand to her side as if in pain, but snatched it back quickly. And for one heart-beat she shut her eyes. My lord, who had stooped forward to lift her hat, saw none o' this, and when the hat was again upon her brow and its shadow over her face, she seemed the same as ever. But I knew the shaft was in her heart, and my heart seemed to feel it, for I loved her dearly. When he could wait no longer, he said, "Well, comrade?"

And she spoke, for from the hair that crowned her to the feet that carried her she was as brave as any Cavalier that ever swung sword for the King, and she said, "Well indeed, cousin, for thee."

He said, "How dost thou mean for me?"

Then stooped she and gathered a handful of grass, and held it aloft and opened her hand, palm downward, that the falling blades were blown this way and that by the wind.

"I mean," quoth she, "that Rowland Nasmyth is no more to Patience than--I am to thee." And she laughed a little.

He came closer to her, and laid his arm about her shoulders, drawing her to him, and he said, "Nay, thou knowest how dear thou art to me, comrade; but thou meanest in different wise--is't so?"

She said, "Yea; but call me Marian to-day. It is to my whim."

He answered, "Dear Marian," and would have kissed her cheek, but she started up with a little cry, saying, "By'r lay'kin! there was a honey-bee tangled in my locks."

And when he had sought for the bee to kill it with his hat, but could not find it, they did seat themselves again, he laughing and saying that "the bee was a bee o' much discretion and wondrous good taste."

That night when I crept to my little ladies to see that all was quiet, I, pausing in the door-way, did note them as they lay--my little lady with her head on Mistress Marian's breast, and a smile on her lips, and Mistress Marian with her arms wrapped close about her, and her dark hair swept out over the pillow, and thence to the floor, like a stream o' water that reflects a black cloud, but her eyes wide open, looking straight forward, as though at a ghost. And I stole off and sobbed myself to sleep, but not before I had awakened Jock, who did grunt, after the uncourteous, pig-like manner of a suddenly wakened man, be-thump his pillow as though 't had been an anvil, and in turning over, twist the bedclothes half off of me, so that what with the cold (it being then the fall o' th' year), and what with my distress, I slept but uneasily.

And the next thing I knew o' th' matter, there was a wedding, and my little lady wedded to Lord Ernle, and Mistress Marian her bridemaid. Surely if the good God e'er sent happiness on earth, He did send it to my little lady and to his lordship. 'Twas at this time that Sir Rowland asked Mistress Marian to be his spouse. And 'twas even i' th' same spot where Lord Ernle had discovered his love for my little lady, that he asked her.

Again it was as though some one had smitten her--her face deadly white and the red line across her brow. She put out one hand to keep him from her, and let it rest on his shoulder, and she said, "Rowland, I love thee well, but no man will ever call me wife."

He said, "Is this the end?"

She said, "Though we should both live to see the last day, it is the end."

Then he went, with his head bowed down. And when he was gone, for the first time in all her life she wept aloud.

* * * * *

Some time passed, and matters waxed ever hotter and hotter 'twixt Cavaliers and Roundheads, till one night there rode up a man to the castle gate with papers for Lord Ernle, and the long and the short o't was this: His lordship was ordered to ride forth to war, and my little lady only three months his wife. Now when this blow fell upon them they were all at meat in this very hall, for ofttimes in cold weather they dined here, even as thy father and mother do now, on account o' th' greater warmth.

And when my lord had glimpsed at the papers he did start to his feet, saying, "Where is the man who brought these papers?"

Jock answered him, "He is gone, my lord."

Then snatching up a flagon of wine that was near at hand, he drank more than half that was in it. And again he turned over the papers in his hand. But all they, my little lady, and Mistress Marian, and your grandfather and grandmother, seemed turned to stone. All at once my little lady started up as from a spell, and went and got her arms about him, as in years gone by when she had hurt him with his own mock sword, and she cried out, "What is it? what is it?" Anon came Mistress Marian to his other side, and looked over his shoulder, while he stood between them like one bewitched, and whiter than a man just dead. When Mistress Marian noted the contents o' th' papers, up went her hand to her heart as on that day under the beech-tree, and she caught at his arm to stay herself.

He turned from his wife to her as though for help, saying, "Tell her, tell her, comrade." And he sank into a chair near by, and dropped down his head into his hand.

Lord! Lord! that was a fearful night! When they made my little lady to understand, she set up one cry after another, each loud enough to pierce the very floor of heaven. Ne'er since have I heard a woman utter such cries as those. And no one but Mistress Marian could in any wise appease her, for she would not have my lord come unto her, but drove him away with waving of her hands, saying, "Thou dost not love me, but the King! thou dost not love me, but the King!"

And when Mistress Marian sought to reason with her, 'twas even the same. Naught could she do but sit and hold her, and comfort her with soft words and noises such as mothers make o'er their young babes. By-and-by she was calmer, and asked to see her lord. So Mistress Marian went out, but I remained on a low stool at the bed's foot. Lord Ernle entered, and she crept into his arms like a fawn into the hollow of a rock when the hail is falling. And they clung to each other in silence. Presently he saith, "Darling, darling, that I should have brought thee to grief!"

She answered, "Nay, not thou, but God. O love, dost truly think that God is aye a good God?"

And he hushed and soothed her even more tenderly than did Mistress Marian.

Afterwhile she saith, almost in a whisper, "But thou needst not go?"

He said, "Darling, how dost thou mean?"

And she whispered more low and said, "I will go with thee to the new continent to-morrow, and there we can live the rest o' our days in peace and love." And she broke out all at once wilder than ever: "Ernle! Ernle! take me! I will go with thee! I will leave father, and mother, and home, and country, and friends, and King for thee! Only go not to war! go not to war!"

He said but two words back of his teeth, "I must!" and then again, "I must!"

But when he looked at her for answer, lo! she had swooned away.

He was to set forth in two days after the morrow; and on the morning of that day, behold! we could not believe our own eyes for astonishment when we saw the Lady Patience step quietly forth, composed and gentle, though very pale. She saith good-morrow to every one, and after a while she doth slip her arm through her husband's arm, and saith she, "Come for a walk, Ernle; I have much to say to thee." So they started forth together. Now I, fearful of many things, did follow at a little distance. As they walked she besought him again that he would take her and set sail for the new continent. And when again he told her how that it could not be, she fell down upon her knees before him, and clasped him with her arms, and she said, "If thou dost not love me, let me be the first to die by thy sword. Slay me, as I kneel, for the love I bear thee."

He said, "Patience, Patience, thou wilt break mine heart."

And she, still kneeling, did cry out with a wild voice, "They lied who named me, for in an ill hour was I born, and I have not patience to support it! I thought that thou didst love me, and lo! thou lovest the husband of another woman more than thou lovest me!"

He bent to lift her up, groaning, but she would not; whereat he trembled from head to foot, and she shook with his trembling as the leaves of a tree when the shaft is smitten by lightning. And she cried out again, and said, "As there is a God in heaven, thou dost not love me, an thou canst go to war and leave me to die o' grief." Then, as though 'twas torn from him, he burst forth, "Now as there is a God, thou dost not love me, to torture me thus!"

And all at once she was quiet. So he stooped and lifted her, and called her his "bride," and his "wife," and his "darling," and his "heart's blood," and more wild, fond, foolish names than at this day I can remember. 'Twas near sundown, and that night he was to ride. Over against the dark jags o' th' hills there ran a narrow streak of light, like a golden ribbon. And the brown clouds above and below it were like locks o' hair made wanton by the wind, which it as a fillet did seek to bind. But they twain walked ever on, till by-and-by they neared that cave o' which I did tell ye. As they came in front o't my lady turned, and smiling piteously, "Ernle," saith she, "wilt thou go with me into the cave and kiss me there, that when thou art gone I may come hither and think o' thee?"

And he said, "Oh, my heart! what would I not for thee?" And he kissed her again and again.

Presently she said, "Do not think me foolish, but wilt thou enter first?--it is so dark." And she stood in the door-way, with her hand on the door, while he entered.

He said, "There is nothing here, sweetheart, but a monstrous damp odor."

And she answered, "Nay, but go to the very end; there may be toads; and when thou art there, halloo to me." So she waited with her hand on the door.

He called to her, "There is nothing, love. Wait until I return to thee." But, ere he had ceased speaking, she clapped to the door with all her might, and did push forward the great iron bolt, so that he was a prisoner in the cave; I being rooted to the ground with astonishment, as fast as was ever the oak-tree under which I stood. At first he thought 'twas but one o' her pretty trickeries, and I heard his gay laugh as he came to the shut door, and he called out, and said, "So, sweetheart, I am in truth a prisoner o' war; but art thou not an unmerciful general to confine the captured in so rheumatic a cavern?"

She sat down and leaned her head against the door, but said not a word.

And he spoke again, saying, "Darling, I pray thee waste not what little time doth yet remain to us."

Still she answered not; and again he spake, and his voice began to be sorrowful.

"Oh, my wife," he said, "canst thou jest at such a time?"

At last she answered him, saying, "I jest not."

His voice changed somewhat, and he said, "What dost thou, then?"

She answered, "I keep what is mine. Where my forefathers did hide their treasure, there hide I mine."

He said, in a loud voice, "God will not suffer it."

Then fell a silence between them. But by-and-by he spoke again. "Darling," he saith, "surely thou dost not mean to do this thing?"

And she saith, like a child when 'tis naughty, and knoweth well that it is, but likes not to say so, "What thing?"

He answered, "Thou canst not truly mean to shut me here to bring dishonor upon me, who have loved thee better than man ever loved woman" (for so do all men say, and truly think).

She said, "Thy life is more to me than thy honor."

And he groaned aloud, crying, "Oh God! that I have lived to hear thee say it!" and again there fell a silence, save for the whispering of the night in the trees above us and the creeping of small creatures through the dry grass. 'Twas almost curfew-time, and there was one star in the black front o' th' night, like the star on the forehead of a black stallion.

When he spake again his voice was very fierce, and he saith, "Patience, I do command thee to release me."

But she spake never a word.

And again he said, "Better let me out to love thee, than keep me here until I hate thee."

She shivered, leaning against the door, until the big bolt rattled in its braces.

And he said yet again, "By the Lord God, an thou dost keep me here to sully my good name, and that of thy father and mother, who have been to me even as my own flesh and blood, I will never live with thee again as man with wife, but will go forth into the New World to live and to die with thy handmaid dishonor!"

And she was silent.

Again he spoke, and lifted up his voice in a cry exceeding sorrowful and bitter, so that my heart froze to hear it.

"Woman! woman! was it for this I gave thee my fair fame to cherish? Or was it for this that I put my name into thy keeping? Oh, child, listen while there is yet time! Wilt thou with thy own hands take his manhood from thy husband to drag it through the mire? Patience, as I have shared thy childhood, as I have loved and cherished thy girlhood, as I have held thee in my arms as bride and wife, give me back my honor while there is yet time. Oh, my wife! my darling!" And I heard him sobbing like a little lad.

At that sound she put both hands over her ears, and started to her feet, looking from right to left like a hunted thing, and I could bear it no longer, but leaped forward and fell on my knees before her, and grasped her kirtle with both hands. I could scarce speak for tears, but with all the strength that was in me did I plead with her to draw back the bolt, but she would not. Now to this day when I do think of the fool that I was, not to run without her knowledge and bring the old lord, thy grandfather, or bide my time and unbar the door when she had gone, it seems as though I must hate myself for evermore. But as I pleaded with her, all at once there was something cold against my throat, and I seemed to know that 'twas a dagger, and the steel cowed me, as it doth sometimes cow strong men, and I stirred not, neither spoke I a word more. Her face was over me, like a white flower in the purple dusk, but her eyes bright and terrible. And when she spoke, 'twas not my little lady's voice, but rather the voice o' a fiend. And she said,

"Swear that thou sayest nothing of all this to man, or to woman, or to child, else will I kill thee as thou kneelest."

And I knew that for the time she was mad, and would kill me even as she had said, did I not swear. So I did take that fearful oath, coward as I was, and to this day am I a craven when I think on 't. When I had sworn, she turned from me as though there were no such woman in all the earth, and went once more to the door o' th' cave, and called his name--"Ernle!"

He answered straightway, and said, "This once will I speak to thee, but if thou dost not unbar the door o' th' instant, I will never hold speech with thee again, nor touch so much as the hem of thy garments, by the living God!"

She said, "I cannot! I cannot! But oh! say not such dreadful words. We will be happy. 'Tis for that I keep thee here. Speak to me! Ernle! Ernle! Ernle! Call me thy love once more! Just once! just once!"

But she might as well have plead at the door o' a tomb for all the answer she got. Again and again she called him, but a dead man speaks no more than spoke her lord. And at last she sprang to her feet, and rushed away into the darkness towards the castle, and I after her.

And when I was entered in by a side door, and had changed my apparel and gone forth to inquire after her, lo! she was raving as with fever, and all they, her father, and mother, and Mistress Marian, thought that he had ridden away and left her i' th' park, having said farewell to them ere he and my lady did set forth to walk. And they strove to comfort her.

The morrow was scarce dawned when she was up and dressed, and stealing through the covert to the door o' th' cave. I followed her, for she heeded me no more, now that I had taken the oath, knowing that I would be torn in pieces ere I would betray my trust. When she was come to the door, she kneeled down and leaned her head against it, and called to him, with a voice so exquisite low, 'twas almost as though one should hear the spirit when it speaks within, and she saith, "Ernle--my love--my love."

And all was still as death. And she said, "Darling, feel with thy hands for the bread and wine. It is near thee on the right o' th' door as thou enterest in. Two bottles o' wine and some loaves o' bread."

But he answered her neither by word or sighing. And she said, "Wouldst thou break my heart?" Then, when she saw that he would not answer her, she cast herself face down along the ground, and tore up the grass with her hands, and pressed down her face into the damp earth. And after a while (for th' looks o't) she rose and went back to the castle.

At nightfall there rode a man to the castle gate with papers, wherein my Lord Falkland did question wherefore Lord Radnor had not answered the summons. And all they were amazed and looked at one another. The messenger said, moreover, "If that it cannot be proven ere to-morrow night that the Lord Radnor hath been the victim o' foul play, he will be branded as a deserter throughout the land."

Thy grandfather gave one cry, "Murdered!" and the sound of it stilled the life in me that I fell down as one dead. And when I had once more come to the possession o' my wits, Jock did tell me as how 'twas already whispered in the village that the young lord had deserted the cause, and had set sail in secret for the New World. Upon this, I straightway swooned again. And when I was recovered enough to stand upon my feet and go forth from my chamber, behold! there was a silence over all the house, as in a house where the best beloved has died in the night.

Men scoured the country far and near, in search o' th' murdered body o' th' young lord. And 'twas now the evening o' th' third day. But my lady meant not to open the door until the morrow, for if she opened it ere then, she knew not but what matters might be righted, and her lord ride to the wars in spite o' all. When it was nigh to sunset she did creep forth and kneel at the door o' th' cave, and call to him in that beautiful, gentle voice, "Ernle! Ernle! my love! my darling!"

And when he did not answer her, she ceased not, as on the day before, but went on: "To-morrow I will set thee free. As I live, thou shall be free to-morrow. An thou wilt but let me be near thee like thy dog, I will ask no more. Neither will I fret thee with my sorrow. Oh, love, I do beseech thee speak to me, whose only sin was in loving thee too dearly. Let the kisses that as a bride I have set upon thy lips plead with them that they speak to me. Oh, my heart! oh, my husband, have pity! If thou wilt never speak to me again, speak to me now. Say but my name, my silly, ill-bestowed name, 'Patience.' Nay, curse me, so I but hear thy voice. Call me what names thou wilt. In God's name, Ernle! In the name o' her who was once thy wife!" And as she knelt and pleaded as a woman with her God, behold! there stepped forth from the coppice Mistress Marian. She stood there like a figure cut in snow, for her kirtle was all of white seme, and her hair was as a cloud fallen round about her. When she saw my lady she drew in her breath with a sharp sound, and set both hands against her bosom. And she bended forward from her loins and listened, but in none otherwise moved she. And my lady went on, "To-morrow I will set thee free--I do swear it. With the rising o' th' morrow's sun thou shalt be free as air. Only speak to me now. Only speak to me now. Just once, Ernle--just once."

With one spring Mistress Marian was upon her, and had pinned her arms to her sides. And the two women stood and gazed into each other's faces, with their throats stretched forward, as serpents stretch their throats ere springing upon each other.

Mistress Marian spake first, and her voice was as a voice that I had never heard, and she said, "So this is the truth, then?"

My lady said no word, but her eyes were aflame.

And Mistress Marian gazed on her for an instant more, then dashed her aside, and turned towards the cave.

"Ernle," she said, "take heart. I will set thee free--I, Marian!" But ere her hand did touch the bolt, my lady was upon her like a little tiger, and she wound her hands in Mistress Marian's thick tresses, and dragged her backward.

And they rolled over and over on the ground, even as do men when they fight, saying no word from first to last. The horror of it smote me that I fell down upon my knees and was dumb. Now my little lady was uppermost, now Mistress Marian. And had not my lady been strong with despair, Mistress Marian could 'a' mastered her o' th' instant. But she fought like a she-wolf brought to bay, with teeth and talons too, and 'twas almost as though two of a size had fought there. Howbeit, with a sudden move, Mistress Marian flung my lady down, and set her knee upon her, and held her, and looked from side to side, as though at a loss, and my lady's strength was fast failing.

When I saw that, I could bide still no longer, but ran forward, crying to Mistress Marian to be gentle with her.

She answered but these words, "Nurse, take off my girdle and bind thy lady's hands with it." And there was that in her voice I dared not disobey. So I bound my lady's hands, she saying never a word, and when the girdle was fast knotted, Mistress Marian helped her gently enough to rise, and bidding me have a care o' her, turned and drew back the bolt from the door o' the cave.

The last light o' the sun fell like a golden lance across the threshold, and across my lord as he lay there, face down, with his hands against the sill o' th' door.

And she stooped down over him, saying, "He hath fainted for lack o' food," but I knew that there was both wine and bread i' th' cave. And she called his name, but he was silent. And she called him again and again. And at last she bade me come to her side, and when we had turned him upon his side so that his face was towards us, behold, he was dead. But Mistress Marian saith again, "He hath swooned away." And she put her hand upon his brow, but no sooner did she touch it than she cried out at its coldness, and shook the dead man in her frenzy, crying,

"Ernle! Ernle! thou art free! Wake, man! thou art free!"

I said, "Mistress, mistress, for love of God! Dost thou not see that neither thou nor any other can wake him more?"

Thereat she fell back upon her knees, leaning upon one arm. And she said, "Dost thou mean--"

I bowed down mine head, for I could not meet her eyes. And she fell upon his body, and stirred no more, so that when they came to bear the poor young lord to the castle, they did bear her also. And for some hours we thought her dead.

Now when my lady saw them how they lay there, and the sunlight red upon them like to blood, she came and kneeled down in front o' me, and lifted up her poor fettered hands meekly, like a little child. And she said, "Nurse, I pray you tell me what it doth mean, for methinks I am waxing foolish, like poor Marjory i' th' village whose man fell from the cliff."

I could not answer her for sobbing.

And she said, "Do they sleep?"

And I nodded my head, for I could say no word.

She said, "Pray you, do not wake them. An they sleep till the morrow, all will be well." Suddenly her wits came back upon her with a rush, as doth a wind that hath seemed to be gone for aye. And she snapt the girdle on her wrists like as it had been a thread o' silk, and ran and laid hold on him with her hands, and dragged him forth upon the grass. And she saith,

"Ernle! Ernle! Ernle! What! wilt thou not answer me, now that thou art free? See! thou mayest ride to war. It is not yet too late. What there, nurse! My lord's charger! Run! run!" Then leaped she to her feet with one cry that methought would 'a' cracked the welkin in twain above our heads.

"Dead! Oh God in heaven!"

So for an instant she stood, with her arms reached high above her head, and her eyes upon him as he lay at her feet, even as a flame doth poise for a breath ere sinking again upon the coals. But anon she dropped down beside him, and beat her forehead with the lower palms o' her hands, and she saith, "Well didst thou sign me with thy blood! well didst thou sign me with thy blood!" Then all at once did she peep up at me over her shoulder with one o' her winsome ways, and fell a-laughing softly.

"Nurse," saith she, "hath he not found a pretty way to punish me? He feigns it well--by'r lay'kin--doth he not, nurse?"

And she rocked to and fro, as she knelt beside him, laughing softly to herself, and ever and again she would reach forth one little hand, all scarred in her struggle with Mistress Marian, and would touch a stray lock into place, and once she bent over and kissed him, laughing softly, and nodding to herself very wisely. And she would sit that way, and rock herself to and fro, and smile upon the ground, and laugh softly, until the very day that she did die. And the last words that she did ever say were, "Just once, Ernle--just once."

* * * * *

(Nurse Crumpet rises and stirs the fire, amid a heavy silence, broken only by the little Lady Dorothy's sobs and the rushing of the wind outside the great hall.)

[The end]
Amelie Rives's short story: Nurse Crumpet Tells The Story

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