Being nearly destitute, he had endured great hardship, and was driven almost to extremity, when he accidentally met old Dorcas, who was purchasing provisions, and following her, made himself known, as soon as he could do so with safety. Touched by his miserable condition, the kind-hearted old dame took him home with her. He was joyfully received by Constance, and offered an asylum, which he gratefully accepted.
Such a guest, it will be easily conceived, was by no means agreeable to Osbert, and he would gladly have got rid of him, had it been possible. Carver’s presence introduced a new element of danger by increasing the chances of discovery, while his society had a very perceptible effect upon Constance’s spirits and manner. Before his arrival, she had quite regained her serenity. But the sternness and austerity of the religious fanatic had cast a gloom over her, which could not be dispelled. The greater part of her time was passed in prayer, in the perusal of godly books, or in listening to Carver’s exhortations.
Osbert was obliged to inform her that he had failed in obtaining her father’s consent, but he earnestly besought her to fulfil her promise, and make him happy by becoming his bride.
Before assenting, she consulted Derrick Carver, who at once decided that under such circumstances the marriage could not take place. She must perforce wait. The enthusiast’s aim seemed to be to alienate her thoughts from things of this world, and wean her, as he said, from all carnal affections. No wonder Osbert regarded him with dislike.
But the unhappy lover had another and more serious cause of disquietude. He had trusted that distractions of various kinds would efface Constance’s image from the King’s breast. But he was deceived. Though constantly engaged in some little affair of gallantry, concerning which he made no secret to Osbert, Philip often spoke of her, and in terms showing that his passion was unabated. Osbert’s jealous rage at these confidences well-nigh caused him to betray himself, and his anger was not lessened when the King expressed his firm conviction that Constance must sooner or later fall into his power. Though Osbert deemed such a mischance improbable, the apprehension of it filled him with uneasiness.
One day Philip, who treated him with great familiarity, jestingly remarked:—
“So you have got some secret love affair on hand, I hear, and nightly visit your inamorata.”
“Who can have told your Majesty this absurd story?” rejoined Osbert, trying to hide his confusion by a laugh.
“No matter how I learnt it,” said Philip. “Your manner convinces me it is true. But why should you be ashamed to confess the affair? Most of the young court gallants plume themselves upon their successes, and talk openly of them.”
“I am not one of those senseless boasters,” observed Osbert, gravely.