"I know not," answered Arabella, "I know not; and yet I doubt and fear. But hark! They are come back again. There comes the Queen's coach. Leave me, Seymour, leave me--oh, in pity, leave me!"
"Will you, then, dearest--will you?" he cried, hastily; "I cannot leave you till you say you will."
"Yes, yes," she answered; "I will do anything to make you happy;" and catching her to his bosom for a moment, he took one embrace, and left her.
The agony of parting is with those that remain. The changing scene, the hurry of preparation, the bustle of the journey, the incidents on the road, the very excitement of action, are all causes of diversion from sadder thoughts; and though every hour, nay, every moment, Seymour's mind reverted to Arabella, the difference was, that through the live-long day, she sat and dwelt upon no other image but his. Yet her fancies were as chequered as the light and shade of the grim foliage in the sunshine; and for many an hour, her thoughts wandered first to dark pictures of danger, and difficulty, discovery, and disappointment; and then, with trembling hope, glanced towards the brighter scene, and she drew for herself airy sketches of escape, and freedom, and love, and joy. But in all that her imagination called up, Seymour was by her side, sharing the peril, and so rendering it doubly terrible, or partaking the happiness, and making it more intensely bright.
[CHAPTER XIV.]
It may be doubted whether Arabella Stuart would have played her part well, in feigning apprehensions that she did not experience, regarding the plague which was then raging in London; for by nature she was not a dissembler, and the very quickness of her feelings and of her imagination would have made her fearful at every turn lest the deceit should be discovered. But luckily she was saved the trouble of assuming anything. The agitation and apprehensions that she felt whenever her mind turned to the fulfilment of her promise to Mr. Seymour; the emotion, the anxiety, the fear, could not be concealed from the eyes of those who surrounded her; but, as she had shared her secret with no one, the principal persons of the Court, as well as the Queen herself, attributed the whole to terror at the idea of the plague, and Anne of Denmark was the first to propose that she should take no part at the coronation.
Arabella gladly caught at the offer, and asked the royal permission to cross the country into Cambridgeshire, and to take up her residence at the house where she had lately spent much of her time, till the coronation was over, and the Court once more in an uninfected place. Permission was readily given; and, as it was evident to the Queen that her young cousin's health had somewhat suffered, one of the royal coaches was appointed to convey her to the place of her destination. All these arrangements were made on the day preceding the removal of the Court to London; and Arabella retired to her chamber to meditate upon her future plans.
"In whom shall I confide?" she thought; "my girl Marian, though faithful and true, is herself about to wed the man of her choice; doubtless she would go with me if I asked her, but it were cruel to put her attachment towards me to such a test. Ida Mara?" she continued; "I think the girl is honest and good--I am sure she is; there is something in her manner, and even in her look, that cannot deceive one. Yet I have known her but a short time. She has no tie to me, and perhaps it were rash to trust her. Nevertheless, I must either tell Marian my secret, or send her home. She is jealous of the Italian girl, that is clear; and perhaps it were better to leave her by the way, at her own parents' house, as she is to become a wife, it seems, in three weeks. Then I must see what can be done. I will watch Ida Mara keenly. My old and faithful servant Adams I can trust, at all events--he will go with me to the death. But I must conceal my plans from Emily Cavendish--she is too light and giddy to be confided in, though she would not injure me for the world."
The morning was somewhat dull and showery when the Lady Arabella, with her two maids, entered the coach which was to convey them into Cambridgeshire. To Marian she had already communicated her purpose of leaving her at her father's house as they passed, and had, according to the good old custom, added to the girl's dower as large a marriage present as her own somewhat scantily furnished purse could afford.
"As we go, Ida Mara," she said, "we will stop for one night at good Sir Harry West's, if he be yet returned, so that you may see your friend and benefactor; and if he be not returned as yet, he will doubtless soon come over to see us when he does come back."