Mary of Burgundy; or, The Revolt of Ghent

by G. P. R. James

A scornful smile curled the lip of Albert Maurice, while the other proceeded:--"And I know not how he might love to hear, that a son he has believed to be dead for twenty years, had now arisen to cumber his inheritance. Let us pause for a time and see. Nor, indeed, would I willingly be found a prisoner."

"I think you judge rightly, my lord," replied the young citizen; "though the Duke of Gueldres will never marry Mary of Burgundy. But, as to your freedom," he added, cutting short something that the prisoner was about to reply, "for that I will pledge my life; and, when once more beyond the walls of Ghent, you can act as you will in regard to discovering yourself."

The motives of Hugh of Gueldres for wishing to conceal his existence from his father for some time longer, were certainly those which he had stated; but perhaps he might also be influenced by another feeling. In mingling with men who knew him not for what he was, the name of his father had never reached his ears, but coupled with some opprobrious epithet, or in conjunction with some evil deed; and perhaps a lingering disinclination to claim kindred with such a man, might make him still glad to leave his station unacknowledged to the world.

Some farther conversation then ensued between the President of Ghent and the son of the Duke of Gueldres; and though Albert Maurice became often thoughtful and abstracted, though there was a varying and uncertain tone in everything he said, unlike his usual calm and dignified manner; yet, from the nature of the subjects to which they now both restricted themselves, there was something sweet and pleasing in the commune which they indulged. They spoke of the early days in which they had first met, of the times, and the scenes, and the pleasures, and the hopes of other years; and a kindly sympathy breathing from the past, made for them, even in the prison, and separate as they were by state, by station, by education, and by prejudices, a peculiar atmosphere in which they seemed to live alone. Hugh de Mortmar felt it strongly, and seemed to revive under its influence. His voice became firmer, and his eye regained its light.

"And what," said Albert Maurice, after they had conversed some time on the scenes in the forest of Hannut--"and what has become of that good stout soldier, Matthew Gournay, who was, in some sort, a friend of my worthy uncle Martin Fruse."

"He was with me, this day, in Ghent," replied the prisoner; "and I trust in God has escaped beyond the gates. Many a time also has he been the means by which I have communicated to you, through your uncle, those proceedings which I thought it necessary that you should know. Once, not a month since, he was within the walls of Ghent; but could not obtain a private interview with you. Thus it was that you received tidings of the march of the base King of France. Thus, of the coming of his barber ambassador. Thus, too, did I send you a copy of that degraded slave's instructions."

"Then I owe you far more than I ever dreamed of," replied the young citizen, "and I will peril my life but I will repay it. Nevertheless," he added, after a moment's thought, in which suspicions, vague indeed, but strong, of the motives and designs of the druggist Ganay, rose up before his mind; "nevertheless, although for the time I am powerful in the city, yet several days must elapse ere you can mount a horse. I have many enemies, too--many false friends--many dangerous rivals; and I would fain place your security beyond the chance of anything that may happen to myself. Think you," he added, musing, "that Matthew Gournay, with twenty of his picked companions, would venture once more within the gates of Ghent, and, habited like followers of my own, be ready to aid in your deliverance, whether I be alive or dead."

"If he have escaped," replied the prisoner, "he would come at my bidding, were it into the jaws of hell. But you must make me certain of his safety, Sir Citizen."

"That he has escaped, rest assured," replied Albert Maurice; "for no one but yourself was taken: and as for his future security," he added, with a smile, "what object think you I could have in shortening an old man's days?"

A bitter reply rose in the heart of the young cavalier, as he thought of the unhappy Lord of Imbercourt; but he felt it would be ungenerous to give it utterance, and he refrained.