"You have heard from Richmond!" said Arden, bluffly. "Your Arab brought you letters from the earl."
"No," answered Chartley; "but I have heard from Oxford. He is already in arms in Picardy; and Calais had better close fast her gates."
"Well, well," said Arden. "Love and war, 'tis strange how well these two dissimilar dogs hunt in couples. We were talking of love just now, and lo, she runs straight up to the side of war. So, if you were free, you would ride off with this sweet pretty Iola, and wait for better times, tending hens and sowing turnips round a cottage door. Upon my life, I see no reason why you should not, even as the matter is."
"But I am in ward," said Chartley. "My pledge has been given to this good old Lord Calverly."
"That is all at an end," replied Arden, with a smile, drawing some papers from his pocket. "I have kept you all this time in ignorance, to win your secrets from you. But now know, my lord, that you are in ward to me, and not Lord Calverly. Here is the king's letter to me, and there is one from his gentle grace for you, probably announcing the same thing. The truth is, I fancy, this rash Lord Fulmer has let Richard into too many secrets; and the king is determined to keep his hold of the young lover, by delaying his marriage, while he at the same time separates you from her, to ensure that she is not won by a rival. How he happened to fix upon me as your jailer is a marvel."
While he had thus spoke, Chartley had opened the king's letter, and was reading it eagerly.
"Wrong, Arden, wrong!" he exclaimed, with a joyous look, "wrong, and yet right in some things--read, read!"
Arden took the letter and ran over the contents with that sort of rapid humming tone which renders some words distinct, while others are slurred over. Every now and then he added a comment in his own peculiar way, not always in the most polite or reverent language; for those were not times of great refinement, and right names were often applied to things which we now veil both in word and seeming.
"'To our trusty and well beloved'--well, well--so he wrote to Buckingham--'our intentions towards you were more gentle than the need of example required to be apparent'--doubtless, his intentions are always gentle; but his needs are numerous--'somewhat exceeded in strictness the spirit of our injunctions'--Poor Lord Calverly, mighty strict indeed when he lets his house be mastered by a prisoner and a handful of guests!--'transferred you therefore in ward to your cousin, Sir William Arden, who will better comprehend our intentions. Nor do we purpose here to shut up our benevolence towards you, but to enlarge it according to your merits and services, even in that which you most desire'--What does the hypocrite mean? He will have your head off ere he has done--'In the mean time, as you incurred displeasure by rashness, so win fair fortune and your heart's content by prudence; for having learned your wishes from a rival and an enemy, we give you an earnest of our good will, in disappointing his desires, with the thought of gratifying yours, according to your deserving, in good season. So, commending you to the protection of God, the Blessed Virgin, and St. Paul'--what a number of them!--'we bid you, et cetera.'"
Arden laid down the letter, and fell into deep thought. Chartley spoke to him, but he did not seem to hear. Chartley gazed at him, and laughed in the joyous hopefulness of youth; but Arden took no notice. Chartley shook him by the arm; but his cousin merely said in a sharp tone--