"I had some suspicion," said Algernon Grey; "for there has been a tenderness, dear Agnes, in his manner towards you, that nought but the yearnings of paternal love could give.--And now, dearest, we are coming near the castle. I, too, ought to open my whole heart to your father. I fear, however, there is not time; for, when we came away, he said he was going down to strengthen the defences by the bridge. Send down to him, however, dear girl, and ask him to return. I will wait till the last moment, in order to see him; but I ought to reach Mannheim before it is dark."
The messenger, however, could not find Colonel Herbert. Two hours passed by without his coming; and, having waited with his men mounted in the court till not more than half an hour of daylight remained, Algernon Grey tore himself away and rode on towards Mannheim.
CHAPTER IX.
In all ages of which we have record, England has been unlike any other country in the world; nor has it been alone in the character of the people, their political institutions, and their religious feelings, that it has differed from all others; but the very aspect of the land has been totally apart, shadowing forth in its very look the mind of the people. We see forests and mountains, rocks, rivers, and cataracts, wide fields and waving corn in other countries; but where else would you see a green bowery lane like that, canopied with boughs and tapestried with flowers, down which those two figures are now walking slowly on? It is England all over--sweet, peaceful, pleasant-looking England. Though the age is remote from that in which we live; though the costume both of the man and woman is very different from our own; though the plumed hat, and the hanging cloak, and the slashed sleeve, might lead one to suppose one's self amongst Spaniards; yet look at the trees with the ivy creeping up them, the yellow banks, the small fields, the trim hedgerows, and not a doubt remains that the scene is English.
But we must just listen to their conversation, too; and that, alas! is very un-English. We must remember, however, that the age was one when a number of events had tended to corrupt society generally, and the court in particular; when the tone of the human mind, both in Britain and in France, had become debased by the conduct and example of the highest personages in the realm; when the monarch on the throne of England, at least, though learned and witty, presented to his people the pattern of all that is despicable, low, and vicious in a man, all that is hateful and contemptible in a monarch; a tyrant without energy or courage; a debauchee without fire or passion; a tricky politician, without perspicuity or judgment; vain of his religion, yet wavering in his doctrines, irreligious in his conduct, and blasphemous in his discourse; proud of his cunning, yet always deceived and frustrated; assuming the tone of command, yet led like an infant or a fool; governed by others, though a despot himself; and only perfect in grossness, selfishness, and treachery. With such a sovereign; with minions imitating and despising him; with a court hungry of gold and avaricious of vice; with the scaffold and the prison offered as rewards for virtue, energy, and genius; can we be surprised that the poison spread, more or less, through all classes; and that the nobles, brought more immediately within the pestilential atmosphere of the court, were peculiarly affected by the moral malady of the time? Can we wonder that every kind of wickedness which the perverse heart of man can conceive or generate was rife; that corruption of all kinds was too common to excite attention; that brawls and murders were heard of every day; and that the enemy or the rival, whom the knife could not reach, found death in the platter or cup? Can we wonder that such conversations as the following were heard by the ears of the air?
"He must be disposed of," said the gentleman, speaking to a lady of extraordinary beauty who walked by his side; "he must be disposed of, that is very clear."
"Ay, but how is it to be done?" asked the lady. "It is very well for you to counsel me, but give me no help."
"Nay, sweetest Kate," replied her companion, "I am willing to give you every help in the world; but I have heard that, during my long and tedious absence from your fair side, you did not fail to console yourself by reasonable tenderness for this same object of your present hate."
"And do you believe such tales?" she exclaimed, turning her flashing eyes upon him. "You do not, William, you do not! I am the creature of your hands; you have made me what I am. From infancy till now you have tutored and led, guided, commanded me--no, not commanded, but at least directed; and you should know--"
"For that very reason I do know," he replied, "that it is the most natural and likely thing in the world, dear Kate, that you should seek a little consolation for a lover's absence. I say no more, I imply no more; for I know that, if real love were in the case, the bold, brave spirit in your heart, guided and directed as you say it has been by me, would even to myself avow the fact, and daringly set all my rage and jealousy at nought. Is it not so, sweet Kate?"