Sir Patrick Hepborne stood confounded and abashed, to find himself thus unexpectedly placed as a butt for the ridicule of the two ladies.
“My noble Countess of Moray, and you, beauteous Lady Jane de Vaux, you do seem to have vouchsafed me the honour of being your quintaine this morning—the targe against the which you may gaily prove the sharp points of your merry wit. Depardieux, my lot in being so selected is to be envied, not deplored; and I must thank you for the distinguished preference you have deigned to show me. Yet cannot I but feel disappointment most severe, to discover thus that a youth, towards whom I was so well affected, should have requited my love so ill-favouredly. Of a truth, the wicked knave hath been most indiscreet. And yet meseems that I myself have been even more indiscreet than he, since the secret was altogether mine own, and I ought to have kept it better.”
“In good sooth, we were much indebted to the imp for his information,” said the Lady Jane de Vaux; “for to be free with [[288]]thee, Sir Knight, our stock of female curiosity, the which was raised highly by the public refusal of so renowned a chevalier to drink a pledge to his lady love, was beginning to be much an over-match for our limited store of patience. Our appetite for intelligence regarding the state of thy heart was waxing so great, that had not this boy of thine come to us this morning, to open his wallet and satisfy our craving, we might ere this have been dead of mere starvation. His visit here was quite a blessing to us.”
“By St. Andrew, I am thunderstruck,” cried the Knight, “Depardieux, the young caitiff hath indeed deceived me deeply in thus betraying the most sacred secret of my heart.”
“Of a truth, thine unexampled constancy did deserve better treatment, Sir Knight,” said the Countess, with a tone and manner tinged with a certain degree of asperity and sarcasm, which Hepborne hardly believed that amiable lady could have assumed; whilst, at the same time, she and Jane de Vaux exchanged very significant looks. With an effort to command herself, however, she turned the conversation rather suddenly towards the subject of the burning of Forres; and after gathering from Hepborne the general circumstances of that calamity, she, with more than usual dignity, signified to him her wish to be alone, and he retired to his apartment, to fret himself about the loss of his page, and the provoking circumstances by which it was accompanied.
CHAPTER XLI.
Rory Spears, the Earl’s Henchman.
Sir Patrick Hepborne left the apartments of the Countess of Moray melancholy and unhappy. He retired to his own chamber, to ruminate on the ingratitude of his heartless page; and, when the hour of the banquet arrived, he went to the Hall of Randolph with a mind but little attuned to harmonize with its festivities. But it was more in unison with his feelings than he had anticipated. The Countess of Moray, who was by this time fully aware that the destructive fire of Forres had been kindled by her brother’s hand, was unable to appear; and her example was followed by most of the other ladies. The Earl of Fife, too, and several other nobles and knights, were absent. The Earl of Moray was indeed present; but he was there only in body, for his thoughts seemed to be elsewhere. All his attempts to [[289]]rally his spirits were unavailing, and the sombre air which hung upon his countenance speedily spread along the gay ranks of the festive board, to the extinction of everything like mirth.
In this state of things, the Earl speedily broke up the feast. He had serious thoughts of breaking up the tournament also, and these he privately communicated to his brother-in-law, the Earl of Fife; but that crafty politician objected to a measure which could only make his brother’s outrage the more talked of; and he had a still stronger reason in his own mind, for he did not wish to be deprived of the opportunity, afforded him by the tournament, of gaining over friends to the party he was forming to strengthen his own power. It was therefore finally determined that next day it should be solemnly proclaimed by the heralds.