Upon the present occasion it seemed that he had some unusually clever design in view. He was perpetually giving some instructions to the domestics, in a tone of voice mysteriously low, and again relapsing into deep and silent meditation. In short, in the anxiety which he evinced for the approaching nuptials, he showed all the assiduity and precaution of a modern match maker. Reginald did not come at the appointed time; the old man began to grow[Pg 121] impatient; he asked for his son. “Lothaire,” replied one of the attendants, “bore forth thy message in the morning, being desirous of looking on the Norman guest. He hath not yet returned.” “It is the better,” said Leofwyn to himself. “His hastiness might defeat what my prudence hath devised. Nevertheless, I cannot but marvel at his stay. Is the bride apparelled?” “She is: the maidens have been busied about her head-gear since noonday. Marry they have no light task; for the hair they decorate hath been but little used to the operation.” “Peace!” said Leofwyn.
Hours passed away in rapid succession, evening came gradually on; and still there were no traces or tidings of Reginald d’Arennes. The Saxon’s choler began to rise in earnest. “Surely,” he muttered inwardly, “surely, that hot-brained fellow Lothaire hath not overturned the structure my counsel hath been so long a-building; mischief light upon him if he hath dared to make or to meddle! The forward boy is ever at bullying and drawing of swords. Boys’ play, boys’ play; but it were a brave thing to put this slight upon the Norman. Marry, hang him if he hath despoiled my daughter of her husband.”
Suddenly his soliloquy was interrupted by the blast of horn announcing the arrival of strangers. Leofwyn leaped from his seat in an ecstasy; but immediately resumed it, with a studied look of gravity, that restrained the inclination of merriment which was predominant among his dependents. Every one, therefore, was silent, as the folding-doors were slowly unclosed, and the major-domo introduced to the presence of his lord—Sir Reginald d’Arennes.
He was greeted by his future father-in-law with cold and distant courtesy, which he returned in a manner of still greater reserve. “Sir Knight,” said Leofwyn, “it is my will that thy nuptials be solemnized ere thou sittest down to the banquet. My son Lothaire is choleric (his guest gave an involuntary motion of assent); and if he should return before the wedding, I know not whether thy head might not lie in the castle-moat sooner than on the bridal pillow.” The bridegroom shuddered.
“Is the Lady Elfrida attired?” continued Leofwyn, in a tone of mock gravity, which was exceedingly ludicrous.[Pg 122] The attendants caught the infection, and many unrepressed jests circulated among them, as they departed to bear their lord’s summons to his daughter.
Presently Elfrida made her appearance. The bridegroom started as she entered the hall: perhaps the exterior qualifications of the Saxon beauty might not altogether correspond with the exaggerated reports which his ears had greedily drunk. Her figure might be called elegant, but was certainly too short to deserve the appellation of dignified; her face might be deemed pretty, but the pertness which was its prevalent characteristic disqualified it for the epithet of beautiful. Instead of the soft yellow hair which her adorer had expected, he beheld a profusion of dark brown ringlets; and in lieu of the languishing blue eye, which he deemed would have dissolved him into rapture, he met the glance of a sparkling black one, in which there lurked a very strong inclination to laugh in his face. To his disappointment, however, if he felt any, Reginald gave no vent; he seemed to have a great reluctance to unclose, in the presence of Saxons, either his visor or his lips. Both parties betrayed a wish to have the ceremony performed as speedily as possible; and the nuptials of Sir Reginald d’Arennes with Elfrida, the daughter of Leofwyn of Kennet Hold, were accordingly celebrated in the chapel which was attached to the residence of the Saxon. The Lady Elfrida was splendidly attired; but, in other respects, the nuptial rites were graced with little pomp save the attendance of a large body of Leofwyn’s retainers, who, bearing in their hands each a flaming torch, cast an air of rude magnificence over the scene.
A sumptuous banquet awaited them upon their return to the hall. The merriment of the vassals was loud and unremitting. The bridegroom, however, did not seem to enjoy the situation in which he found himself placed. He fidgeted upon his seat, and turned his eyes alternately to the ceiling and to the wall, as if he suspected that more than half the joviality of the party was at his expense. His embarrassment was increased by the malicious endeavours of his bride, who rallied him upon his gravity and look of despondency, in a style to which he had evidently no spirits to reply.[Pg 123]
It must be confessed that the young man’s suspicions were not altogether without foundation. The occupants of the lower part of the board, who, of course, were the most obstreperous in their mirth, were, from time to time, indulging themselves in very acute criticisms upon the figure and features of their master’s son-in-law. These did not altogether answer their expectations. Much as they contemned the Normans, they had pictured to themselves, in the person of Reginald d’Arennes, a countenance noble even to sternness, and a bearing at once courteous and martial. They knew he was a Norman, but they also knew he was a handsome and a friendly Norman; in consequence of which they had made up their minds to hate him, and, at the same time, to find nothing in him worthy of hate. They were much surprised, therefore, when they found the young Knight so perfectly different from the image report had drawn. His face seemed perfectly void of all expression of majesty or valour. At present its predominant expression was embarrassment, mingled with a strong tincture of fear; but there was a slight curve upon the lips, and a sly twinkle under the eye, which betrayed a strong disposition to cunning and risibility. His figure appeared slender and diminutive, and a gorgeous steel harness hung dangling about it, as if the bark of the forest oak had been stripped off to give an appearance of strength to the willow. This was all very strange: the attendants looked, and laughed, and wondered; and Leofwyn showed no disposition to check their humour. Indeed he seemed to participate cordially in their malicious propensities.
“Sir Knight,” said he, “methinks there is in thy demeanour a greater degree of bashfulness than thy noble presence and thy lofty lineage do warrant.”
“It is a feeling,” replied the guest, “which I have inherited from my mother Bridget—I mean, from my mother the Lady Marie,” he added, turning very pale.