[THE FRIEND ESTRANGED.]
Trumpet and timbrel were sounding in the streets of Ghent; the people, in holiday costume, were thronging bridge and market-place; the procession of the trades was once more afoot, with banners displayed; the clergy were hurrying here and there with cross and staff, and all the ensigns of the Romish Church. It was a high holiday; for the young Count had given notice, immediately on his arrival, that he would be ready an hour before compline, which may be considered about six o'clock in the evening, to receive the honourable corps of the good town, in order to return them thanks, in the name of his father, for the liberal aid they had granted him in a time of need; and flushed with loyalty to their Prince--well, I wot, a somewhat unusual occurrence--and with a full sense of their own meritorious sacrifices, each man pressed eagerly to be one of the deputies who were to wait upon the Count; and, if that might not be, to go, at least, as far as the palace gates with those who were to be admitted.
All the nobles who had accompanied the Count from Lille were present in the great hall of the Cours des Princes, where the reception was to take place, except, indeed, Richard of Woodville. He, soon after he had arrived, had begged the Count's excuse for absenting himself from his train; and, hurrying to the inn where he had left Ned Dyram, with his horses and baggage, he dismounted from his charger, and cast off his armour.
To his inquiries for his servant, the host replied, that he had not been there since the morning, and, indeed, seldom appeared there all day; but Woodville seemed to pay little attention to this answer; and, merely washing the dust from his face and neck, set out at a hurried pace on foot.
He thought that he knew the way to the place which he intended to visit well, though he had only followed it once; and passing on, he was soon out of the stream of people that was still flowing on towards the palace. But he found himself mistaken in regard to his powers of memory; long tortuous streets, totally deserted for the time, lay around him; tall houses, principally built of wood, rose on every side, throwing fantastic shadows across the broad sunshine afforded by the sinking sun; and when he at length stopped a workman to ask his way, the man spoke nothing but Flemish, and all that Woodville had acquired of that tongue was insufficient to make the artisan comprehend what was meant.
Leaving him, the young knight walked on, guided by what he remembered of the direction in which the house of Sir John Grey lay; for it is hardly needful to tell the reader that thither his steps were bent, when suddenly a cavalcade of some five or six horsemen appeared, coming at a slow pace up the street; and the tall graceful figure of a man somewhat past the middle age, but evidently of distinguished rank, was seen at their head. The garb was changed; the whole look and demeanour was different; but even before he could see the features, Richard of Woodville recognised the very man he was seeking, and, hurrying on to meet him, he advanced to his horse's side.
Sir John Grey gazed on him coldly, however, as if he had never seen him before; and Woodville felt somewhat surprised and mortified, not well knowing whether the old knight's memory were really so much shorter than his own, or whether fortune, with Mary's father, had possessed the power it has over so many, to change the aspect of the things around, and blot out the love and gratitude of former days, as things unworthy of remembrance.
"Do you not know me, Sir John Grey?" he asked: "if so, let me recal to your good remembrance Richard of Woodville, who brought you tidings from the King, and also some news of your sweet daughter."
"I know you well, sir," replied the knight; "would I knew less. I hear you have acquired honour and renown in arms. God give you grace to merit more. I must ride on, I fear."
His manner was cold and distant, his brow grave and stern; but Woodville was not one to bear such a change altogether calmly, though, for his sweet Mary's sake, he laid a strong constraint upon himself.