CHAPTER XXXVIII.
Gaps are sometimes pleasant things. With what interest the eye traces a gap in a deep wood; how it roams up the glade, marking a tree out-standing here, a clump of bushes there, the rounded swell of the turf, the little sinking dell! And now imagination revels in the void, filling up every breach in the line with a continuation of its own, seeing the fancied woodman's hut peeping out from behind this mass of foliage, peopling the coverts with dun deer, and raising up forms of lads and lasses to wander through the chequered shade.
I must have a break in the history of those upon whom the principal interest of the tale has been concentrated, and can only furnish a few brief lines, to guide the reader's imagination aright. We left them in the spring of the year, when skies were soft, though warm, when the shower mingled with the sunshine, when the leaf was in its green infancy upon the branch, and all nature was rejoicing as if filled with the sweet early hopes of youth. It was now summer, ardent summer; the sky was full of golden light, the woods afforded deep shade; the corn was turning yellow on the ground; and the cattle lay in the hot noonday, chewing the cud, under the shadows of the trees. The longed-for summer had come. It was fruition.
Lord Calverly had followed the advice he had received, and presented himself to the king to make what excuse he best could. He dared not indeed tell the whole truth, and merely said, that his niece, unwilling to fulfil the contract with Lord Fulmer, had fled he knew not whither. Richard, however, divined more than he acknowledged; but he dealt leniently with him. There was no fine, no confiscation, no actual imprisonment. He merely required that the old nobleman should remain constantly at the court till his niece reappeared, after having satisfied himself that Lord Chartley was not cognizant of her flight nor aware of her place of refuge.
Suspicion and policy were busy in the king's mind at that hour; for reports reached him, from his numerous spies in France and Britanny, which showed that storms were gathering on the horizon; and signs, not to be mistaken, told him of discontent and disaffection amongst the people of his own land, while phantoms of shadowy conspiracies flitted across the scene before his eyes, and left him in doubt and apprehension of every man. All those whom he most feared and least trusted he kept at the court under his own eye, believing that the terror of the axe would secure that obedience which he could not obtain from love and zeal.
Lord Fulmer, indeed, remained in Dorsetshire, in command of a small body of forces; but he was kept in check, and his fidelity secured by the presence of a much larger power upon the verge of Somerset and Devon, commanded by one in whom Richard could confide. Never failing in dissimulation, the king noticed not in any way what he suspected or what he knew of the young lord's conduct; but every messenger which went to Dorsetshire carried commendations and hopes, and many an expression of regret that the Lady Iola St. Leger had not been found, so that his marriage must be necessarily delayed.
It might be supposed, that if Richard thought precautions so necessary in these instances, he would have exercised still greater vigilance in the case of Lord Chartley. Such, however, was not the case. The paradoxes of the human mind are part of history; but so common is it for the most jealous, watchful, and suspicious, in every rank and relation of life, to place the utmost confidence in those who are destined to frustrate all their plans and purposes, and disappoint all their expectations, that it is no marvel even so keen and untrusting a man as Richard should feel no apprehensions, with regard to either Chartley or Arden, though he was hateful to them both, and yet be suspicious of Lord Calverly and Fulmer, who might perchance disobey his orders, and refuse reverence to his authority in matters of small moment, where their own passions were concerned, but who never entertained a thought of abandoning the king's party, to which they had attached themselves from the first. Cunning often overreaches itself, often sees a distant object, and overlooks that lying at its feet. But there were many circumstances which rendered Richard careless in the case of Chartley. He looked upon him as a rash, heedless, light-spirited young man, too open and too frank, either to be sought by or to seek other conspirators. He had always been firmly attached to the house of York, had been brought up from his youth under its guardianship, had inherited, as it were, animosity to the house of Lancaster, had taken no part with the new nobility, as the relations of Edward's queen were called, and had, in his boyhood. treated with some haughty contumely one of the upstart favourites of the queen's brother, which caused him to be sent from court to travel in foreign lands. These things had not been forgotten by Richard; and he argued--"It is neither with Richmond nor with Dorset that this gay young lord would intrigue, if he intrigued at all; and, so long as this fair maid of St. Leger remains to be won, I have him sure. 'Tis well she hides herself; for were she at the court, or in her uncle's house, I might have to decide too soon. I doubt that moody discontented Fulmer; but of this light-spirited youth I am secure."
The month, during which Sir William Arden had agreed to hold his noble cousin in ward, passed away. Richard heard of them travelling here, travelling there, roaming from this village to that, hovering sometimes round Chidlow, sometimes round Atherston, lodging at Tamworth, at Leicester, at Hinckley; and he easily divined that Chartley was seeking eagerly for Iola. The multitude of affairs pressing upon his attention gave him but little time to think of minor things; and he suffered the period to lapse, without taking any farther precaution for the young lord's custody. It was recalled to his memory some days afterwards by Catesby; and the king mused over the suggestion for some moments; but at length he said in a somewhat doubtful tone--
"No. Let it be. But this girl must be heard of, Catesby. I must know where she is, lest this youth find out the hidden treasure, and snatch at it without our consent. There must be people who know her habits and her haunts. Let them be enquired after, and in the mean time write me a letter to Lord Chartley, requiring him to use every diligence to seek for the Lady Iola, and bring her to the court, when he shall be rewarded as his heart could desire. But mark you, Catesby, mark you. Put in 'If the lady's heart go with it.' These young fools, we must talk to them about hearts, or they will not believe. Methinks hearts wear out about thirty, Catesby. Is it not so?"
"Sometimes sooner; sire," answered Catesby, gravely. "But I will do your bidding; and methinks the person most likely to know where the lure lies hid is the lady Constance, her cousin. The old lord sent her back to the abbey of St. Clare; but I will despatch some one thither, skilled in ladies' interrogatories, who will soon extract from her all that she knows."