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song or Renny
Coprrljrbt. IPII. Ii? Manrtr* H<-vrl«tt.
SYNOPSIS.
IN the davs of the robber barons Earl G°r
milf, Red Bull of the North, is master of the
fief of Pikpoyi.tz, wl ore he lives in the
Castle of Speir. This fenrlesj, ilusterin? jjinm
returns from a border foray with a captive girl
of twelve years, whom he establishes at Speir
as h-'s ward, to be called Donna Snbli* He oas
murdered her parents and her five brothers.
She is an imperious little personage, and soon
the household u at her feet. She chooses Flr
min, a strapping youth of good parentage, a»
her friend, and reigns as queen of Speir for
three and a half years.
Preparing Donna Sabine for her first com
munion, Father Sorges learns that she la
Renny of Coldßcaur. head of a great house of
ancient lineage. Blnnclimains, a maid of honor,
loving the Farl and Jealous of Sabine, surrep
titiously leads the record disclosing the this
Identity, and secretly furthers tbi love affulr
with lirmin.
Meantime the priest slip:- away from bpeir
and goes to Campfiors to alarm the uncles of
the captive maiden The Kennys include Ma
bllla and Hold, cousins of Sabine, whs run next
her in succession to tlie female fief. I.aneetlho
Corbet, a young troubadour of the castle, de
clarer. his love for Mabilla, and is repulsed.
CHAPTER VII. (Continued).
5 AIN'T SAVE, ns everybody knows, was a
deacon who suffered martyrdom under
the vandals for the sake of his learning.
He was filed to death. Hence tin- univer
sitv arms. The heart of (he chain is, of course,
that of Kl. Leonard, the famous relic of the col
lege chapel.
In taking leave for some time of this good
voiith.il mat he sumciciit to foreshadow of him
that he applied himself with zest to tin- pursuit
of learning, attending the time when he might
hope to look his lady in the face again, lie was
young; time meant nothing to him. His mis
tress might marry her Don John of P.arsannler,
but at present ho was aide to contemplate that
calmly enough. He had not got beyond l In
state of wonder iu his love affairs. The fact of
loving was nearly all his joy. So he studied,
and said his prayers, and wrote verses.
Genius inusi be denied to Master * orliel; lo
wa s built upon too small a scale to contain tlull
divine fury. NVliat he had for literary equip
ment was dramatic sympathy, the knack of a
quick leap toward t he Ha me that k ladled /on
a leap so quick that he would outvie you in the
dance of your own fancy, usurp your mood and
thereafter load yen. This also he had a deep
fund of self respect. Il had always kept him
dean. Ho was really a modest lad In his deal
ings with women, a speedy blusher yet one
who drew on by his own drawing back. Mostly
he was invited further than he dared. Very
respectful to all women, when he found the
otjo woman of all the world he slipped sidelong
into idolatry. She became his more than self.
He made her in his own image, then colored her
with tin- tire she lent him. Mabilla <h- Renny,
the wilful little high lady, became an impos
sible goddess, a veiled shining oracle whose
priest he was, seeing that the touch of her
linger tips, the very breath of her presence
made of him a swooning visionary. This was
his nearest approach to genius; luckily for him
lie was soon to Ire three hundred miles from his
inspiration. He applied himself to learning, as
Saint Save understood it. All his literature
was in the letters he wrote, but wisely did not
send, to his mistress, lie was bold only in
thought; such of them us he did dare to a
messenger gave him cringing tits to think of;
he hardly could bring himself to open the thin
replies lie got.
These, which began hopefully enough with a
fairly long letter, grew more and more
guarded, crept, rare, without news. “M .e -r
Lanceilliot, 1 am very well, in spite of your
long letter, and your friend, M. do R.;” or,
“Master Lanceilliot, 1 pray you to spare n e
your comments upon my soul, for which, as 1
haw better reason to know it. I have less re
spect than you. \\ <■ have not s<-«-n the sun since
we left Canhoe. Yesteruiorn my brother, Mes
sire Bf-rnart, killed a bear. 1 rejoice to hear of
your learm*d diversions. From your good
friend, Mabilla.” Last but one came a very
short scribble: “Master Lanceilliot. 1 aui too
much concerned to be more than your faith
ful, M.” This was of a sort to send him
frantic. Of the last of all 1 must sis-ak in its
place, which is not yet.
Tantalizing, too brief, too kind little let
ters, lu return for which he filled quires of
sheepskin with fine penmanship. Upon these,
however, and upon certain miniatures it>l>
viously from life), which he found iti a great
brown book “Fait* et Gostes de la tree
noble, tres haulte, meserrime et anoienne
Malson de Roini"- pictures in blue and white
upon gold of ladies and young knights with
proud lips and stiff poised heads; upon such
meat he kept his soul alive while in bondage
in the learned courts of Leonardsbeart.
CHARTER VIIL-
The Rennys Head for the North.
The Campfiors cavalcade -the Bishop in steel,
the Viscount in steel. Mabilla in a green hood,
Borges in a tremble, a glancing line of pensels
and b&nneroles and a train of baggage mules
—made Suiut Have and fifteen uriher miles
on their first day. They halted for the night
si Kains Castle. This is a place ou the
edge of Barsaunter, Hon John’s province,
which belonged to a vavasour of his and
was much at the service of his friends,
lieu John, tin* King’s brother, himself was
there to entertain them. Noel de Kains. the
owner of the place, bent a ready knee to the
whole party. There were few things which
this Rrinee John did not know of matters
touching his interest, fewer still which he
affected to know. Before the Bishop went to
his bed he received a formal proposal for
Mahilla’s marriage. She had been betrothed,
as you know, at a baby age, but little further
had been moved in the affair for one reason or
another.
Whatever her uncle may have felt, he was
too much of a Rennv to show any elation. Don
John was the King's only brother, by no means
out of chances for the throne, n man who might
go far. llis amours were, at any rate, not
flagrant; he was forty—a sound age; hot tem
pered but the Rennys could match him there;
fickle in his friendships.
Against that set MaliHla. “I know no more
level headed woman than that child,’’ her
iiiich considered. “I could see in her a mate
for Hon John, lie lias nerves; I can credit her
with none. She might exasperate him to some
act of follv and get a permanent ascendancy
while he was repenting it.” On the whole, he
was inclined for a bargain with his Prince.
Hon John, a gaunt, brown man, with a hide
like leather, a starved grin and absurdly long
h-es, lay like a leaning spear in his chair and
watched his companion. lbs hands were knit
behind his head, but. lie never kept his fingers
still. The Itishop sat square as a tower.
‘"Your Highness sees how my family is
placed by this new turn of affairs,” he said.
-■'The heiress, a minor, is in the hold of that
bullock i il.poyntz. lie has in all probability
murdered my brother Liaise, his wife and rny
five hopeful nephews. The fact that he did
mil add I he girl to the heap proves that there
was a heap. No doubt he means to marry her
at leisure. At that rate Coldscaur, our cradle
for the centuries, will go to his issue; Mar
vilion will be laid to I’ikpovntz. It is a pretty
game, so pretty that I dare not punish the
assassin (at present).”
-•You mean, Bishop,” said Don John, show
ing his teeth, “that you would defer asking our
lord the King to punish?”
The bishop bowed shortly. “1 beg your
Grace to let me finish. The stake is too serious.
It is Coldscaur, ii is all Marvilion. We must
temporize get back the heiress if we can. If
we are too late, he inusi have her. But in that
case we must work for Marvilion. It should
be disentailed. To suffer it to remain would
be against public policy—two shires in one
thief’s hands! The largest lief in the realm
to be held by the biggest thief! Mort de
l lieu!”
“And if that were not suffered,” put in Don
John, “in that ease,
“In that ease, my lord, Marvilion would fall
to the next heir.”
“The estate is a female flof, I understand?”
asked the Prime, twitching at the legs.
The Bishop bowed. He had him. “It would
fall to Your < 1 race’s betrothed, to my late ward
Ibrnna Mabilla, who now, by the law of this
land, is of age to take it up.”
“Ha!" snapped Don John. “Now do me Jus
tice, Bishop.”
"I do so, my Lord Prince. Yonr Highness’
betrothal was eleven years ago; Your High
ucss’ proposal twenty minutes.”
“1 was in absolute ignorance of all this,
Bishop honor of n Prince!”
“My lord,” said llavilot, “1 am sensible both
of that and of the great honor yon pay my
house. Again 1 beg Your Highness to observe
how we stand. The Earl of Pikpoyntz must
be supposed (by us at least) to have compro
mised the heiress. He must marry her. But
the is- should be (even in ray judgment who
am no politician) a clear understanding that
she cannot bring him a whole province to add
to his own. The man is a common assassin.
That alone is enough to secure his outlawry
under so just a king as our sovereign lord. If
he married the heiress and were then out
lawed policy would ho served and justice no
less scoured for being delayed.”
He paused here and looked at Ids prince.
Don John tapped his teeth. "You would let
him marry the heiress first and proceed to out
law him afterward, hey?” The Bishop, still
looking keenly at him, nodded.
“If that were done, Donna Mabilla” »aid
the Prince.
-If that were done, Donna Mabilla becomes
Kenny of Coldscaur on the instant, my lord,"
said rho Bishop, not mincing matters. The
Prince grinned desperately.
“But, outlawry or none." went on llavilot,
"there should be a disentail. The Rennys. my
lord, have done their share of sword work in
their day. but girls cannot wield swords, and
priests are considered lucky if they can bear
croziers And girls and priests represent
Benin ! My girl is well off in a sense, hath no
need of an appanage for any common mating.
But sin- must not come naked to a prince of
the blood."
"Bishop of llavilot.” said Hon John, very
earn stir, "if 1 can watch justice done to your
family it will be the happiest sight in the world
for m\ eyes, 1 assure you." lie blinked and
writhed as he spoke.
Tin- Bishop blinked, but did not writhe. "We
ask for justice at Your Grace's hands and no
more,” said be.
“You shall ban- justice.” said Don John, ris
Ing - “1 will go to Maintsongo to-morrow and
soo my brother." The Bishop kissed his hand
and withdrew.
He considered the bargain sufficiently im
plied. You eould hardly get nearer with a
prince of the reigning house. Marvilion. that
fair province, with Coldscaur for its inviolate
crown, should be Mabilla's in a year, thought
he. He deiaded that lie would say nothing of
all this to hoc. She had never spoken of her
affianced lord to anybody, bad scarcely ever
seen the great .nan since the day when she
RFXDAY, OCTOBER 15. 1011.
walked into the chapel a baby and out again
a plighted rnaid. What she thought, wTiat
knew, she held. But in her uncle’s judgment
there was no fear of trouble on her side.
Put before her the state of affairs when they
were known to be such and such, trust her.
She would be discreet. She was a girl who in
vited departnre from custom. He could de
pend upon her good sense for no argument,
upon her cool head for no sentiment. “It
promises, it promises!” he chuckled, rubbing
his smooth hands together. “Barsaunter is a
dry boric for such a running hound as Hon
John. The savour of Marvilion tilth and pas
ture will keep his nose to the scent. Besides,
lie had an eye for the maid. Of such also he
should be a pretty jadge. I never knew a I)e
Flahault flinch at a beauty yet. And if my
Mabilla is not a royal little beant.y there are
none in this holy realm.” ITIs reverence there
upon went to bed without the assistance of
his chaplain, his reader or his Iscqneys.
Don John sped them on their way next
morning, and then, faithful to his word and
interest, hinißelf sped on his. To Mabilla he
paid the homage due to a queen of beauty; it
"You Mean Bishop,” Said Don John, Showing His Teeth, “That You Would Defer Asking
Our Lord the King to Punish?”
had been pretty to see her staid reception of
it. He bent his back. He looked like a strung
bow in that posture. He kissed her little fin
gers, tried his hardest to smile without show
ing his teeth. Mabilla said very little, yesd
and noed, carefully my-lorded him. At the
moment of parting he held her stirrup, later
kissed her glove. “The time will be a vigil
until your eyes make me festival, Madam,”
says he. “According to the vigil speeds the
feast, my lord,” said she. “Nay, Madam,” he
urged her, “hut the Saint blesses the devout
kneeler.” “Ah, my lord,” she laughed at him,
"he cannot give him knees!” Trumpet shrilled.
The knights shook their spears in salute. Cap
in hand the Prince gazed upon his lady’s
back.
It took the Bishop and his train a fortnight
to reach Canhoe in Logres; bnt we cannot fol
low them closely. Their weather was superb,
and if scenery had then had its present vogue
the traverse could not have failed of delight.
But scenery is a solace of onrs, whose busi
ness has become our tyrant; to the Bishop of
llavilot (master of his de*di), to Viscount
Rernart, the country showed to much harbor
age for stag and hare; its sedgy rivers were
there to be hawked over; its mountain peaks,
austere, meditative, communing with the blue,
were weather gauges, hinting rain or a spell
of dry. The Bishop pondered his plans, the
Viscount had an eye for ambushes; of all the
party Mabilla was happiest, neither loving,
hating nor fearing any. She could not have
told you why—perhaps she was a heathen
without knowing it. The Frinee's grinning
earnestness, poor Lnnceilhot’s mystical ecsta
sics, blew like a flaw from her mtnd before the
sh lt wind, which told her they were never far
from the sea. The vagrant elonds hade her
thoughts run races, the stretches of bright dis
tance invited her fancy abroad. It was a varie
gated journey, full of interest to her. Rarsaun
ter passed safely through—a bleak sandy
stretch, much of it wasted by the sea waves—
the country gets greener, the mountains begin:
you are now in Parcener —see the gray bead
of Mont Gomeril. Grassy valleys, deep and
wet, cropped rolling fells, woods and water in
the lowlands, little orchards cut between, ling
and blaberrv above; it is a rich pastnrage
which seldom belies its name, a country of
wind and silence and sheep. Thence by an
ever ascending road you win Logres. all pine
woods, heather and gray rock*. On every rock
a castle or town fortified; the very shepherds
here go armed The first lessor, a boy learns
is to use the long how; the knife is his by
nature.
The girls suck hlood. it would seem, from
their mothers and feed their babies with it
from themselves. Such a province is, and must
be. dark Logres. ever on the watch against Pik
poyntz, its bold neighbor. Thera on a gray crag
in the midst stands Panhoe. the head of the
Saint Quintin fief, dwelling of the third Renny
heiress, Holdis the golden, and sometimes of
her guardian uncle, Prince Bishop A'aleric.
CHAPTER IX.
t
Deeds of Blanchmains.
But I return to Speir and a pretty state of
things. When Father Sorges, poor, quavering
soul, had thrown the little lady there into the
arms of her page, it would have been Blanch
mains’ business to keep her there if she had
not shown a plain disposition of her own to
that end. Rr-nny of the Rennys was Sabine—
a hot lover, a rooted hater, a block of inflexible
resolve to have her way. Ronie pas Reini. in
deed! By this time, at fifteen, she was to all
seeming the most sumptuous maid the broad
world could hold. Voluptuously formed, deep
eolored. glossed like a peach, her eyes the hot
blue of Venetian water, her velvet lips so per
fect one would fear to kiss lest one might
break ;heir frail wonder, her hair at once long
and abundant, fine and strong —she was the
rich blooded Renny type carried up to a point,
a grave, flawless, fierce burning image of her
cousin Mabilla.
Not so adorable, because less woman than
pattern of woman, by no means wise, without
vivacity or humor or intelligence or wit, she
sens nevertheless a very woman in this, that
she must love something, and, loving, give all.
it was unfortunately Firrnin whom she loved
and to whom she gave what she did give. She
found him trustworthy and built him love
worthy. It might have been a dog, or Blanch
mains, or a tree, or Father Sorges, or the
Blessed Sacrament in its beginning. It hap
pened to be Firrnin. The tiling was as artless
as erring. Then came along the simpleton
Sorges, fired her with shame, and drove her
whither we have seen her.
Therefore Master Firrnin, the handsome
young man, was reigning favorite and re
ceived the homage due. It appeared to him
that he was a breaker of hearts. He found it
pleasanter than breaking horses, a passive
exercise. He erected his fine person or laid
his length in a snug chair. Then those with
hearts to sacrifice came and broke them
against him. He was admired by Nitidis at a
distance. She was a shy girl. In the intervals
of more serious business he was much with
Blanchmains. The discreet maid of honor
would have played go-between had that been
possible, but little Donna Sabine to all but
the page was a smooth rock. She gave no foot
hold nor hint of inlet.
So Blanchmains had to work upon Firrnin
to screw him up to the pitch of business. She
fed him to make him stout of heart, plied him
with good wine to make him heady. She gave
him to understand her entirely on his side, and
at the same time really served him by keeping
Madam Clotilda in the dark. “Ah, lady,” she
would say, holding her heart, “all I can do is
to serve you. There is my joy!” And serve
him she certainly did. with becks and whis
pered hints. “My lady is in the rose garden
looking for somebody.” “The little queen is
pouting at her empty court. Quick, in the
Blue Closet!" and so on. She served him with
sage advice. “Ply her now. hardy lad! She
leans, she leans!" She kept watch for him,
went sentry. She coughed at the door twice
to proclaim Clotilda near, sneezed for Shrike,
sang an air when only Nitidis came in sight.
At last, on a dark wild night of summer, they
two alone on the terrace, all the house blind.
“Go, happy lover, up to the bower!” she
breathed in his ear. “Go and comfort with
apples the siek of love.” This was her crown
ing stroke. It was she who provided the lad
der of cords. It was she. endlessly patient,
who stood to hearten him as he came breath
less down when dawn first trembled.
“Good news’’ sbe asked him. thrilling. Fir
min reeled against her.
"The best; oh! the best," he assured her.
"Ah. my Saviour, she is mine now!" The
youth was really moved —hid his face upon
Blanehinain*' shoulder and cried. She em
braced him, gave him a merry kiss between
the eyes.
BU M’
2LAURICE HEWLETT ||/
“Now the little hooded god be your friend,”
she said, with rich laughter in her tones;
“friendlv he has been this night. Eh, but he
levels ns all!”
Firrnin looked wondering at the live sky.
The spell was still upon him. “Oh, Blanch
mains,” he whispered, feeling for her hand to
stay him; “oh. Blanchmains. my little lady is
clean from God. How could I dare?”
ou know best, my friend.” she answered
him rather dryly. “Experience to teach you
wa> not lacking, if one may believe what one
hears.”
Wantons all!” rried Firrnin, eloquent.
W antons all! But .-me—so royal, so meek and
lovely—oh, Christ!”
( -li, < iipid. said the*maid of honor. “Come
and tell me everything.” She took him to her
closet and poured red wine for him as he
rhapsodised.
Firm in was devotional. “See now, Blanch
mams my dear, he said; "I am on holy ground,
must act holily. We were caught unawares—
we loved too much—oh, Heaven, how mv dear
loves me! she gave herself—she fell here—
these arms held her!” He hugged himself,
then grew sober. “Ah. but no more, no more’
Never! I must take her to church—l shall
burn else—deadly sin! You. Blanchmains will
be our friend: swear that you will. Loathsome
villain that I am!”
“W i!l you wed Renny of Coldscaur. Firrnin?”
said Blanchmains with parted lips. Firrnin
held up his fine head. “Rennv of Coldscaur
loves me, mistress. She is n.yal'enough to com
mand it. What else can I do?”
Blanchmains, with a finger to her lips, said
“Leave it to me.” Firrnin went proving to bed’.
. here was no time to lose; Firmin’s virtue
might not face such risks ns these very long
and, as Blanchmains was shrewd enough to
see, the lady loved Firrnin, and Firrnin for the
moment was touched. No time to lose. She
did not lose an hour. Before morning chapel
she was in the still room, tearful, before Dame
Clotilda.
I he old woman and the young one distrusted
each other, but just now the flood of circum
stance whirled them together. The dame
overlooked certain flagrant mysteries, the
maid stooped to the dame’s simplicity. She
was soon sitting at the housekeeper’s knee
nestling her hand in the other’s.
“Alt, mother,” she said, wuth one of her
pretty sighs, “if my lord could return before
it is too late!”
“Is (here mischief abroad, child? Is there
mischief about us?” quavered the timorous old
soul. Blanchmains hid her face.
“Speak, girl, speak!” cried the housekeeper.
“Fear nothing. I am discretion itself, so old
and worn!”
“Then for once I will speak, mother. You
cried of mischief. It is mischief, I fear. Let
me tell you—ah! if I had dared tell you before'!
But it may not yet be too late.”
“Mary and Jesus! Tell me the truth.”
“It is—it is—ah, it is of Firrnin I would
speak, mother.”
Daine Clotilda crossed herself with <>reat
precision. “Now I am ready for the worst”
said she and locked her lips. Blanchmains,
pale and eager* began to pour out her con
fession.
“He has got the blind side of the little lady,
mother; he has got the blindest side. She is
at his beckon and whistle. He lifts a finger
and she lies down. He lowers an eyebrow and
she stands up. He asks with a wink, she gives
him her cheek. He purses his mouth, she puts
up hers. He takes her hand, she lets him hold
it. W ill he let go, think you? Ah.no! Tor
he has hopes of- all. Mother, he will never let
go till he has the whole. Mark me, I know,
and oh, heaven and earth, that such things
should be!" She hid her face again and with
sobs shook her shoulders. Clotilda reeled in
her chair.
"Ah ah!” she panted, “it hath brought on
mv spasms. Quick, child, my drops, my drops!”
Blanchmains flew for the phial. Clotilda re
covered, crossed herself, and took a resolution.
" 1 his very morn, after mass, I wall speak
with my lady,” she said. “You have done very
right, my child, to speak your heart to me. I
love you for it. I, who never thought to lore
you for anything.” Blanchmains offered a
meek face to be kissed, and was kissed. The
dame went on. “I will not reproach my lady.
T hope I know my place. But as I believe our
lord the Earl hath plans of his own in her re
gard, my duty is plain. First to my lord, at
whose cradle I stood when he was a gurgling
babe. Next to my little lady, who may be my
sovereign lady if His Lordship's designs are as
I take them. Lastly to that lecherous thief
in the Gatehouse, whom I shall live to see
swinging yet. Now all this, put as I best know
how to put it, breathing duty and service,
grievous but yet upright, hnmilitv sprinkled
over all like a heavenly dew—as God is my
Redeemer, this goeth to my lady this day
after Ite missa est. Leave it to me, my dear.”
The dame leaned back in her chair, wiping
her eyes. Blanchmains knelt, adoring her.
"Mother,” she said. “I never knew the hies
sedness of faithful duty until this moment.
Oh, teach me your secret! Be patient with me,
I shall yet learn!”
Clotilda enfolded her. "My dear lamb,” she
babbled, “I've the warmest heart, though old.
and 'tis large enough for thee and more. I
could love thee, my girl.”
“And I need your love, mother,” said Mis
tress Blanchmains. asking with eyes andfips
for kisses. She got as many as she wotti'd. ,
All fell out in order. The damn's alarms,
quavered forth amid sighs, tears and gaspings,
set the quick Rennv blood on fire. Sabine, who
was indeed royally angry, said very little, be
ing of your dangerously stili sort, but what
little she did say shrivelled the old woman like
a winter leaf. "Your place, woman, is to con
vey my orders to the servants, and not theirs
to me,” said Sabine. Woman! Sue had called
Game Clotilda woman! The poor soul scarce
knew herself in the term.
(To Be Continued.)