"And having found her?" asked Arden.
Chartley smiled, and looked thoughtfully down on the table, for a moment or two, answering at length, "Don't you think, Arden, that if one going a journey found a peculiarly beautiful flower growing near his path, he would be inclined to gather it at once, not waiting till he came back again, lest it should be withered or plucked in the mean time. One would not mind a few scratches either, to get at it."
"Come, come, no metaphors," said Arden. "You know, I am dull as to all fanciful things, my good lord, so tell me plainly what you would do."
"Well, then," answered Chartley, "if I found her, as you suppose, I should be strangely tempted to ask her to get upon the back of an ambling mule or light-footed Barbary jennet, and make a pilgrimage with me to some shrines of great repute in Britanny or France."
"Hymen's for one of them, I suppose," said Arden, laughing; "ah, Chartley, you are but a pagan after all. But you forget such things might be dangerous. When you came back, your head would be in a tottering condition, or, at the best, your dearly beloved liberty of roaming might be confined within the four walls of a small room."
"I might stay away, till heads were more sure upon men's shoulders, and liberties were not the sport of a tyrant's caprice," replied Chartley, more gravely than was his wont. "This state of things cannot last for ever, Arden. The world is getting sick of it. There are strange rumours abroad. Our poor queen Ann is ill; and men much suspect she will not recover. Few indeed do under the treatment she is likely to have; and Richard, they say, is very anxious for heirs."
"So, so," cried Arden, "sets the wind there? Why, methought a Chartley would never draw his sword against the house of York."
"Assuredly," replied Chartley, "so long as the lawful heirs of that house sat upon the throne. But there is such a thing, Arden, as two streams mingling--such a thing as two factions, long rivals arrayed in bloody opposition, finding a bond of fellowship, and uniting to overthrow one who has wronged and slaughtered both.
"I have heard something of this," said Arden, thoughtfully. "The rightful heir of York is Elizabeth of York; and, were such a thing possible, that Harry of Richmond should graft the red rose on the white rose stem, there is many a man beside yourself who would gladly couch a lance in his support."
Chartley gazed at him for a moment thoughtfully, and then answered. "He has sworn it, Arden, in the cathedral church of Rennes. I know I can trust you; and I tell you he has sworn it. The queen Elizabeth, too, consents, I am informed; and men but wait for the propitious hour."