Walter sighed, and unconsciously his glance wandered in search of his betrothed. "You are a shrewd observer, lady," he said, looking full in her expressive face,—and indeed, except Charlotte Clopton, whose beauty was of a different character, Clara de Mowbray was one of the most beautiful women in the county. "You are a great observer, lady," he said, "and yet you have failed to observe how much your own beauty excites admiration from all present to-night. Nay, I am not blind myself, however much I may lie under the imputation with which you have charged me."
"To love is no such heavy sin, Sir Arderne," said the lady, "an if it were so, you would indeed require sufficing penance and absolution, since you are a very votary to the blind god."
"And she to whom my vows are given," he said, "is she not worthy of an emperor's love?"
"She is worthy of the love of him who seeks her hand," said Clara, somewhat sadly. "She is my dear and early friend, and I could not wish greater happiness to her than in that store. Unless the emperor were Walter Arderne, and the empire he inherited here in Warwickshire. I conclude Charlotte would scarce become an empress."
"You speak not this as you think," said Arderne, doubtfully, yet delighted at so much confirmation from one of the intimate friends of his beloved Charlotte.
"I speak as I feel," said Clara; "I know the worth of both, and how well both deserve; and yet methinks youth and valour should not altogether succumb to Cupid. Were I a man, I should seek for action and to be worthy in deed."
The youth gazed with increasing admiration upon the radiant face of the lady. He almost doubted whether its exceeding loveliness did not equal that of his betrothed.
"Ah," he said, gaily, turning towards his new friend, who at the moment approached, "give us assurance, gentle Shakespeare, we that are in love; and teach this lady to respect the passion."
Shakespeare looked full at the lady; he seemed struck with the beauty of her face and form. "Love, first learned in a lady's eyes," he said, gaily,
"Lives not alone immured in the brain;
But with the motion of all elements,
Courses as swift as thought in every power;
And gives to every power a double power,
Above their functions and their offices,
Never durst poet touch a pen to write,
Until his ink were temper'd with love's sighs."