"You are fatigued, young gentleman, with this long stormy ride, I fear?" said Richard of Woodville.
"A little," was the only reply; and in a few minutes they stopped at the gate of a small walled building, bearing the aspect of some inferior priory of a religious house. The bell was still ringing when they approached; but the door was closed; and the clerk and his attendant dismounted and knocked for admission. A board was almost immediately withdrawn from behind a grating of iron, about a palm in breadth and twice as much in length, and a voice demanded, "Who are you?"
"Bourgogne," replied the clerk; and instantly the door was opened without further inquiry. The arrival of the party seemed to have been expected; for two men, not dressed in monastic habits, took the horses without further inquiry; a monk addressed himself to Woodville, and bade him follow; and, before he could ask any questions, he and his companions were led in different directions, the one to one part of the building, and the others to another.
With the same celerity and taciturnity, his guide introduced him to a small but comfortable chamber, provided him with all that he could require, and bidding him strip off his wet clothes, and lie down to rest in peace, returned with a cup of warm spiced wine, "to chase the damp out of his marrow," as he termed it. The young knight drained it willingly, and then would fain have asked the old man some questions; but the only information he could gain imported, that he was at Triel, the old man always replying, "To bed, to bed, and sleep. You can talk when you have had rest."
Woodville finding he could obtain no other answer, followed his counsel: and, wearied with such a journey after a long period of inactivity, but with a heart lightened by the feeling that he was free, he had hardly laid his limbs on the pallet before he was asleep.
CHAPTER XXXIX.
[THE PRISONER FREE.]
The only true calm and happy sleep that man can ever obtain, is given by the heart at ease. Slumber, deep, profound, and heavy, may be obtained by fatigue of body or of mind; but even those great and tranquil spirited men, of whom it is recorded that, at any time, they could lie down, banish thought and care, and obtain repose in the most trying circumstances, must have gained the power, from that consciousness of having done all to ensure success in the course before them that human wisdom can achieve, or by that confidence in the resources within, which are the chief lighteners of the load of life.
Richard of Woodville slept soundly, but it was heavily. It was the sleep of weariness, not of peace. His mind was agitated even during slumber, with many of the subjects which might well press for attention in the circumstances in which he was placed; and unbridled fancy hurried him through innumerable dreams. Now he saw her he loved standing at the altar with another; and when the figure turned its face towards him, he beheld Simeon of Roydon. Then he stood in the presence of the King; and Henry, with a frowning brow, turned to an executioner, with the countenance of Sir Henry Dacre, but gigantic limbs, and ordered him to strike off the prisoner's head. Then came Isabel Beauchamp to plead for his life; and suddenly, as the King was turning away, a pale shadowy form, through which he could see the figures on the arras behind, appeared before the monarch, and he recognised the spirit of the murdered Catherine. Old times were strangely mingled with the thoughts of the present; and sometimes he was a boy again; sometimes still a prisoner in the castle of Montl'herry: sometimes in the court of a strange prince, receiving high rewards for some imaginary service. He heard voices, too, as well as saw sights; and the words rang in his ears,
For the true heart and kind,
Its recompence shall find;