Author.—Aye—or Andrew the Flemish Astrologer may have done it.
Clifford.—Andrew the Astrologer! yes, I daresay he was quite equal to kicking up such a rumpus among the elements. I would fain know more of that fellow.
Serjeant.—Be assured, sir, I shall tell you all I know about him in due course of time. Meanwhile I am ready to take up the clue of my discourse whenever you please.
Clifford.—You may do so when you like, Serjeant; for, as I suppose that this terrible night puts all hope of an early start in the morning out of the question, we may e’en sit up as late as we like.
Serjeant.—If the rain holds on at this rate, the rivers will all be up, and the mosses swimming, so that our travelling further to-morrow will be impossible.
Clifford.—Come away, then, Serjeant, proceed with your legend, and let the storm roar and rattle as it will.
THE LEGEND OF CHARLEY STEWART TÀILLEAR-CRUBACH CONTINUED.
Sir Walter Stewart was received next day, by King James, with all that kindness which he was used to lavish upon his favourites, among whom the accomplished knight held by no means the lowest place in his estimation. Apartments were immediately allotted to him near the royal person, and his time became almost entirely occupied by his duties as a courtier. He failed not, however, to take all opportunities that occurred, of cultivating his talent for music, under the auspices of Sir William Rogers, and his fascinating niece. Notwithstanding the knight’s bold confidence to the contrary, the lady’s designs against his heart might have been very rapidly successful, had not the baseness of her motives inclined her to waver from time to time, between the balance of rival advantages, which were offered to her by an encouragement of Cochran, who had declared himself to be her lover. Thus it was that she often scared Sir Walter Stewart at the very moment when, to all appearance, he seemed most likely unconsciously to gorge the bait, and thus it was that several years glided imperceptibly away, without the lady finding herself one bit nearer to the attainment of either of her objects. Still, however, Sir Walter would ever and anon return within the sphere of her attraction, and the fair Juliet always the more easily managed to conjure him back thither, that they were frequently brought together, to sing and to play in presence of the royal pair, in those little private meetings which were held almost nightly in the Queen’s apartment. As for Sir William Rogers, he did all he could to fix his niece’s determination towards securing an alliance with Sir Walter Stewart, not only from his unconquerable abhorrence of the unrefined mason, on the one hand, but also from his conviction, that his own ambitious views were fully as likely to be helped forward by the lady’s union with the gallant knight, for whom moreover he had an especial respect, because of his genius and accomplishment in that divine art, to which he was himself so enthusiastically attached.
The royal party was one night assembled, as usual, in the apartment of Queen Margaret, who, seated in a gorgeous chair, richly attired, as became her station, and attended by Ramsay, and some of her maids of honour, and with her angelic countenance lighted up with unfeigned rapture, listened to the mingled voices and minstrelsy of Sir William Rogers, Sir Walter Stewart, and the lovely Juliet Manvers. The King was engaged with Cochran, at a table at one end of the room, in looking over some plans, which had reference to the buildings then going on within the castle. Any one who had witnessed them, whilst so employed, would have said that neither his Majesty, nor his architect, were much occupied in the subject which was the ostensible object of their consideration, for whilst the ears of the monarch seemed ever and anon to draw off his attention to the music, the heavy eyes of Cochran were perpetually wandering towards the person of the songstress. Ere the music had been long continued, each of them yielded to the irresistible impulse which had moved him, and, whilst the King drew a chair, and seated himself opposite to the performers, Cochran placed himself behind it, and, with that vulgar and unpolished air, which the magnificence of his dress rendered only the more apparent, leaned awkwardly over the back of it, and rivetted his gloating gaze upon the lady’s charms. The piece had come to its close, and the royal pair were bestowing their commendations liberally upon those who had executed it, when three loud and solemn taps were heard at the door of the chamber. King James started, and at once assumed an air of intense and serious anxiety, and the Queen, and all present, were more or less disturbed at this interruption.