IDONIA UNDERSTANDS.
"But hush! What is the utmost that I would?
To give my life to God is all I could:
And this may be the way He wills to take—
This daily death may be for God's own sake;
He gave, and took. So let my soul be still."
—ISABELLA FYVIE MAYO.
At Lovell Tower, things were going as merry as marriage-bells could make them. About six weeks after her return home, Frideswide Marston became the wife of John Combe. They were to live, for the present, with Lord Marnell, until it should be seen what would happen further. There was a pretty little estate in Devonshire, named Combe Abbas, which belonged of right to Queen Marguerite's henchman: but of course, so long as King Edward lived, no deprived Lancastrian could expect to recover his lands. What might happen in the next reign, when men's minds might be supposed to have cooled down, and the throne to be assured to the House of York, was another matter.
Frideswide had delivered the Duke's message and token to her sister. They were so quietly received by Agnes, almost in silence, that Frideswide was afraid that she felt disappointed at receiving so small a gift.
"Thou seest, dear heart," said she, apologetically, "there is so little left to his Lordship that methought it were ill done to choose any choice thing: and moreover I counted thou shouldst better love a matter whereon was his badge than something greater that had it not. That speaketh for himself, from whom he came."
"Thou hast done well, and I thank thee," was the reply, as Agnes lifted her eyes for a moment.
Could Frideswide have read the eyes, her impression would have been different. The language of her sister's inmost heart was—"Do you understand me no better than that?" From that day, the silver ring with its ruby sparks was always to be seen on Agnes Marston's hand.
The year 1473 was drawing to a close, when Walter Marston came home from London. His life had been an eventful one. From the household of Queen Marguerite he had passed to that of the Duke of Burgundy, shortly before his sister's arrival in France. Thence, returning to King Henry, he had fought at Barnet and Tewkesbury, had remained long a prisoner, had received pardon, and was now a knight in the household of the Earl of Oxford. Often very near Frideswide, he had never actually met her. Now he came home on a month's leave, and as it was six years since any of his relatives had seen him, the occasion was a festive one indeed.
"But how big thou art!—and what a beard hast thou!" exclaimed Dorathie.
"I am not by the half as much bigger as thou," laughed Walter. "Why, I left thee a little chick all over down, and here thou art a proper young damsel."