Penshurst Castle Part 29

Sir Philip had not time to delay, though the Dean hurried after the service to greet him and to offer hospitality.

'I must be on my road to London,' he said, 'for a great event awaits me there, Mr Dean--the baptism of my little daughter, to whom the Queen is graciously pleased to stand G.o.dmother.'

'And G.o.d give you a safe journey, Sir Philip, and bless the child,' the kindly Dean said. 'How fares it with the daughter of my good friend Sir Francis Walsingham? I trust she is well recovered.'

'Fairly well,' Sir Philip replied. 'She is young and somewhat fragile, but I trust will soon be able to join me at Flus.h.i.+ng.'

After the exchange of a few more kindly words and congratulations, Sir Philip Sidney was leaving the Cathedral, when a figure, still kneeling in the nave, arrested his attention, and as his footsteps drew near, the bowed head was raised, and Sir Philip saw it was Lucy Forrester.

He pa.s.sed on, but lingered outside for a few moments, till, as he expected, Lucy came out.

'I am glad to see you once more,' Sir Philip said; 'if only to bid you farewell, and to a.s.sure you I will not fail to track out the villain, who may, at least, give me tidings of Mistress Gifford's boy. I will see her also, if possible.'

'You are very good, sir,' Lucy said.

But she moved on with quick steps towards St Anne's Gateway.

'Have you aught that I can convey to Mistress Gifford? If so, commit it to my care at Penshurst, whither, I suppose, you go with the Countess on the morrow or next day. Then we shall meet again--so now, farewell.'

Years had pa.s.sed since Lucy had subdued the tumultuous throb at her heart when in Sir Philip's presence. He was still her ideal of all that was n.o.ble and pure and courteous; her true knight, who, having filled her childish and girlish dreams, still reigned supreme.

There are mysteries in the human heart that must ever remain unfathomable, and it is not for us to judge one another when we are confronted by them, and can find no clue to solve them.

Lucy Forrester's romantic love for Sir Philip Sidney had worked her no ill; rather, it had strengthened her on the way; and from that night when she and Mary Gifford had exchanged their secrets she had striven to keep her promise, and to be, as she had said she wished to be, really good.

The atmosphere of Lady Pembroke's house had helped her, and had been an education to her in the best sense of the word.

'Fare you well, sir,' she said. 'I must hasten to find Mistress Crawley. We came hither to the city for something wanted from a shop ere we start on our journey; but I craved leave to go to the Cathedral for a few minutes.

This is how you found me, sir, there.'

There was something in Lucy's voice which seemed to betray anxiety as to whether Sir Philip might think she was alone in Salisbury; and something of relief when she exclaimed,--

'Ah, there is Mistress Crawley!' as she tripped away to meet her, Sir Philip repeating as she left him,--'Fare you well, Mistress Lucy. _Au revoir._'

CHAPTER XI

LUMEN FAMILIae SUae

'Was ever eye did see such face?

Was never ear did hear that tongue?

Was never mind did mind his grace, That ever thought the travail long?

But eyes, and ears, and every thought, Were with his sweet perfections caught.'

SPENSER.

Penshurst Castle never, perhaps, wore a more festive air than when in the November days of lengthening twilight and falling leaves, Sir Philip Sidney's friends and relatives gathered under the hospitable roof to congratulate him on his appointment to the Governors.h.i.+p of Flus.h.i.+ng and Rammekins, the patent having been granted at Westminster on the seventh day of the month.

Sir Philip had taken leave of the Queen after she had honoured him by standing as G.o.dmother to his little daughter. He had now brought her and her mother to Penshurst to leave them there in safety, till he had arranged for their reception at Flus.h.i.+ng, and found proper accommodation for them.

It was a goodly company that a.s.sembled in the grand old hall on the day before Sir Philip's departure. There were, we may be sure, many present whose names live on the pages of the history of the time.

The courtly Earl of Leicester was there, who, with whatever outward show of satisfaction at his nephew's promotion, was never free from a latent jealousy which he was careful to hide.

Sir Francis Walsingham was there, the proud grandfather of the tiny babe which Lady Mary Sidney held so tenderly in her arms, scanning her features to discover in them a likeness to her father. Sir Henry Sidney was with her, prematurely old and feeble, trying to shake off the melancholy which possessed him, and striving to forget his own troubled and ill-requited service to the Queen, in his pride that his son was placed in a position where his splendid gifts might have full play.

'The light of his family,' he always fondly called Philip, and he would not grudge that this light should shed its radiance far beyond his own home and country.

Was it a strange prescience of coming sorrow that made Sir Henry for the most part silent, and sigh when the Earl of Leicester tried to rally him, saying that it was a time of rejoicing, and why should any face wear a look of sadness.

[Ill.u.s.tration: THE GREAT HALL, PENSHURST CASTLE.]

'We part from our son, good nephew,' Lady Mary said, 'on the morrow, and partings in old age have a greater significance than in youth. We please ourselves with future meetings when we are young; when we are old, we know full well that there is but a short span of life left us, for reunion with those who are dear to us.'

As the short day closed in, the huge logs in the centre of the hall sent forth a ruddy glow. The torches set in the iron staples on the walls were lighted, and flickered on the plentifully-spread board and on the faces of those gathered there. As the company at the upper end, on the raised dais, rose to retire to the private apartments of the house, the minstrels in the gallery struck up a joyful strain, and at the foot of the stairs Sir Philip paused.

He looked down on the faces of many friends and retainers, faithful in their allegiance, with a proud, glad smile. Many of them were to follow him to his new post as Governor. All were ready to do so, and die in the cause he held sacred, if so it must be.

It was not without intention that Sir Philip waited till the company had pa.s.sed him, detaining his young wife by drawing her hand through his arm, and saying to the nurse who held his little daughter,--

'Tarry for one moment, Mistress Joan.'

'My friends,' he said, 'you who follow me to Flus.h.i.+ng, I pray I may live to reward you for the faithful service you will render me. G.o.d grant you may return in health and peace to your wives and children. If it please G.o.d, I shall myself return in due season; but there are many chances in war, and a soldier's future must ever be doubtful. So, should I fall in the fight against the tyranny of Spain and the machinations of Rome, I say to you, show to this fair lady, my sweet wife, all reverent care and honour, for, forsooth, she will merit it; and as for this little lady Elizabeth, the G.o.dchild of our gracious Sovereign,' he continued, smiling as he took the child from the nurse's arms, 'I commend her to you also. You see but little of her, she is so swathed in folds of lace and what not, and, in good sooth, there is but little to see; but she gives promise of being a dainty little maiden, not unworthy to be the Queen's name-child, and the daughter of the gentle Dame Frances Sidney.'

'Nor unworthy to be the child of Sir Philip Sidney, a greater honour than all the rest, methinks.'

These words were spoken in a deep, manly voice by Sir Francis Walsingham, who had stopped on the stairs when he saw his son-in-law pause with his wife and child.

The remark was received with a prolonged 'Ay,' and a murmur of many voices wis.h.i.+ng Sir Philip all success and good fortune.

There was dancing in the s.p.a.cious ballroom, which was lighted for the occasion by the three cut-gla.s.s chandeliers, surmounted by the royal crown, which were, it is said, the first made in England, and presented to Sir Henry Sidney by Queen Elizabeth. Here the younger portion of the guests enjoyed the dance then so popular, and which was known by the appropriate name of 'The Brawl.'

The elders had followed Lady Mary Sidney to the room known as Queen Elizabeth's, where the chairs, draped in yellow satin, and the card-table covered by the fine silk embroidery worked by the Queen's clever fingers, were all in their first freshness. On the walls were panels of worked silk, which the ladies of the family had their share in producing, and between them hung the portraits of Sir Philip and his brother Robert in childhood in their stiff and ungainly Court dress, and one of Lady Mary when she came as a bride to Penshurst--in the pride of her youth and beauty, before the smallpox had robbed her face of its fair complexion, and before sorrow and disappointment had left their trace upon it.

The Countess of Pembroke was always her mother's chief sympathiser in joy and sorrow. She retired with her behind the gla.s.s screen where the Queen, in her visits to Penshurst, always chose to summon her host, or any of her ministers for a private conversation or flirtation, as the case might be.

By the opening of a panel of white Venetian gla.s.s, those who were seated behind the screen could watch unseen what was pa.s.sing in the room beyond.

'You look weary, dear mother,' Lady Pembroke said--'weary and sad. Methinks pride in our Philip should overrule grief at his loss. He has been well versed in the manners and customs of foreign courts. He is a great favourite, and I hope to see him return with fresh laurels at no distant date.'

'Ah, Mary! you have, as I said to my brother but an hour ago, you have a future; for me there is only a short span left. Yet I can rejoice in the present bliss of seeing Philip a proud husband and father. There was a time when I feared he would never turn his thoughts towards another woman.'

'And I, sweet mother, always felt sure he would be the victor he has proved. Look at him now!' As she spoke Sir Philip was seen coming down the room with Lady Frances on his arm, Sir Fulke Greville on the other side, evidently some jest pa.s.sing between them, for Sir Philip's face was sparkling with smiles, and his silvery laugh reached the ears of those behind the screen as he pa.s.sed.

'Yes, he has the air of a man who is happy, doubtless,' his mother said; 'but see your father, Mary, how he halts, as he comes leaning on Sir Francis Walsingham's arm. He has the mien of a man many a year older than he is, if age be counted by years.'