Arabella Stuart: A Romance from English History

by G. P. R. James

Then she would talk of former days; of him she loved; of their first hours of affection; she would fancy that he was gone upon some embassy to a foreign Court, and would return speedily; and she would sit and sing the songs of peace and joy, till Ida wept at the contrast between such wild but happy dreams of a disordered intellect, and the sad and stern realities of that sweet lady's fate. All these various changes, however, exhausted her strength and wore her frame; and even in the lucid intervals, when her mind was completely itself, the gloomy sense of her wretchedness undermined her health, and wrought a sad change in her appearance.

At these times, she would often talk of the events of that dark and terrible night when the designs against Overbury's life were consummated; and though, at first, Ida strove to direct her attention to some less horrible subject, she soon found it was in vain, and, on the contrary, endeavoured to lead Arabella to discuss it quietly and reasonably, in the hope that, by regulating her thoughts upon that point, her mind might be restored to its tone.

Some indulgence was now shown to the poor captive; and though she was only permitted to see her fellow-prisoner and kinswoman, Lady Shrewsbury, upon one or two occasions, yet other friends from without were frequently admitted to visit her, and two of the King's physicians were instructed to watch over her health.

The greatest comfort, however, that Arabella received, was when some post from France brought her messages from her husband, full of that deep and tender affection which he never ceased to entertain for her to the last hour of his life. She found that he generally hovered about in the neighbourhood of the coast, still hoping, still praying, that he might be permitted to rejoin her, and pass the rest of his days in wiping the tears from her eyes, and blotting out sorrow in happiness.

Those hopes and prayers were daily disappointed; but still they were a comfort to his mind; and once or twice, when a letter, in his own hand, was secretly introduced into the Tower, by some of those who visited the lady, it would produce a great and manifest change. Though it generally made her weep at first, she would become more cheerful and more resigned, and often sitting down, would write an eloquent appeal to the King, or to his ministers, trying to excite in them some sense of justice and of compassion.

Sometimes, when news from Seymour had been delayed for a longer period than usual, she would send Ida Mara forth--for which permission could generally be obtained from the Lieutenant--to seek for intelligence at the house of any one who was likely to receive communications from France.

Generally these visits were to the Court of England, or to persons in the city of London; but occasionally Ida was sent to different members of the lady's own family, or of Seymour's, in order to obtain some tidings, even though the persons she sought lived at some distance from London. When this was the case, Arabella, who never forgot, even when her intellect wandered most wildly, to think of the comfort and safety of others, sent her old and faithful servant Cobham with her fair companion; but still the most frequent channel of communication between Seymour and his unhappy wife was our good old friend, Sir Harry West, from whom she was generally sure to receive some news every week, or at least some comforting assurance that nothing but accidents had delayed the arrival of intelligence from across the channel. While Ida was gone upon any of these errands, Arabella would remain sad and gloomy, and often would take no nourishment for a whole day, if she was absent so long; and the faithful girl always reluctantly left her, even for a few hours, seeing that she invariably became worse during her absence; but when the lady was once possessed with the idea that news had been long delayed, that something must have gone wrong with her husband, that he must be ill, or dead--fancies which frequently assailed her--Ida, as the lesser of two evils, was fain to go wherever there was any chance of obtaining information.

Such had been the case one morning, when, for several days, they had been without any communication with the Court or the City. A greater degree of bustle and activity had been observable in the Tower than usual; but, occupied with their own sad thoughts, neither Arabella nor Ida Mara had given any attention to that which was passing around them, although the servant Cobham had mentioned something of fresh prisoners, of a high rank, being added to the number already within the walls. When Ida Mara, however, returned from the house of the Earl of Shrewsbury, to which she had been sent, she entered the lady's chamber in a state of greater agitation than she generally displayed. She strove, indeed, with anxious care for Arabella, to render her own tone and manner as quiet as possible, while, sitting down beside her, she proceeded to tell all she had gathered in her morning's walk.

The first news was, that contrary winds had prevented any vessels arriving from France for nearly a week, but that intelligence was expected every day. Arabella looked sadly disappointed, and Ida hastened to turn her attention to another theme.

"The whole town is in a commotion, dear lady," she said, "with events which, though terrible and painful, I cannot and will not regret. I told you some days ago that the Lieutenant, Sir Gervase Elways, had been removed and arrested, but I did not know the cause."