They were sad hours for poor Ella Brune; and when they were over, the chambers of the heart felt too dark and lonely for her to admit any thoughts but those of the dead. She sent, therefore, to Mary Markham, to tell her that she was too wobegone to come that day; and, returning to her little chamber at the inn, she sat down to weep, and pass the evening with her memories.
On the following morning early, she once more set out for Westminster, and passed quietly along the road till she reached Charing; but near the hermitage and chapel of St. Catherine, just opposite the cross, she perceived a man standing gazing up the Strand, with the serpent embroidered on the black ground, which distinguished the followers of Sir Simeon of Roydon. Her fears might have betrayed her; for she forgot for a moment the complete change of her dress, and fancied that she must be instantly recognised; but the instant after, recovering her presence of mind, she drew the hood far over her face, and passed the man boldly, without his even turning to look at her. She then made her way on towards Tote-hill, and soon came to the gates of the house in which Sir Philip Beauchamp had taken up his temporary abode.
Few but the higher nobility, or persons immediately attached to the Court, indulged in those days in the luxury of a dwelling in London or the neighbouring city; and when business or pleasure called inferior personages to the capital, they either took up their dwelling at a hostel, or found lodging in the mansions of some of the great families to whom they were attached by friendship or relationship. Nor was such hospitality ever refused, so long as the house could contain more guests; for each man's consequence, and sometimes his safety, depended upon the number of those whom he entertained; and even when the lord was absent from his own dwelling, the doors were always open to those who were known to be connected with him. Thus Sir Philip Beauchamp had found ready lodging in the house of one of the numerous family of that name, the head of which was then the Earl of Warwick, though, ere many years had passed, an only daughter bore that glorious title into the house of Neville.
When Ella reached the mansion, the porter, distinguished by the cognizance of the bear, was standing before the gates, talking with a young man, who seemed to have just dismounted from a tired horse, and held the bridle-rein cast over his arm.
In answer to Ella's inquiry for the Lady Mary Markham, the old servant laughed, saying, "Here is another!--if it goes on thus all day, there will be nothing else but the opening of gates for a pretty lady who is not here. She departed last night with Sir Philip, fair maid. They went in great haste, good sooth I know not why; for 'twas but two hours before, the sturdy old knight told me he should stay three days; but they had letters by a messenger from the country, so perchance his daughter is ill."
"The blessed Virgin give her deliverance!" said Ella, turning away with a disappointed look; and, bending her steps back towards the city of London, she walked slowly on along the dusty road, absorbed in no very cheerful thoughts, and marking little of what passed around her. But few people were yet abroad between the two towns--the Strand was almost solitary; and she had nearly reached the wall of the garden of Durham House, which ran along to the Temple, when she heard a voice behind her exclaim, in a sharp tone, "Why do you follow her, master knave?"
"What is that to you, blue tabard!" replied another tongue.
"I will let you know right soon, if you do not desist," answered the first.
"Whom do you serve?" asked the second.
"The King!" was the reply; "so away with you."