III
MY LORD THE LADY
Between the topmost pair of carven angels a woman stood for a secondlooking down upon the man below. She had come quite suddenly from adoor in the great gallery, and she paused for a moment on the topmoststair to survey the stranger who had summoned her. The stranger forhis part stared up at the woman in an honest and immediate rapture.He was not unused to comely women, seen afar or seen at closequarters, but he felt very sure now that he had never seen a fairwoman before. He prided himself on a most unreverential spirit, buthis instant, most unfamiliar emotion was one of reverence. Hisfantastic wit idealized wildly enough. "An angel among angels," heexulted. "Ecce Rosa Mundi," his rusty scholarship trumpeted. Hisbrain was a tumult of passionate phrases from passionate play-books,"Oh, thou art fairer than the evening air," overriding them all likea fairy swan upon a fairy sea. There never was such a woman since theworld began; there never could be such a woman again till the worldshould end. And while his mind whirled with his own ecstasies and theecstasies of dead players, the Lady Brilliana came slowly down thegreat stairs.
If the light of her on his eyes dazzled him, if the riot in his mindoverprized her excellence, a saner man could scarce have failed to bedelighted with the girl's beauty, a wiser to have denied her visiblepromises of merit. If better-balanced minds than the mind of HerculesHalfman, striving to conjure up the image of their dreams, had lookedupon the face, upon the form, of Brilliana Harby, they might wellhave been willing to let imagination rest and be contented with theliving flesh. Twenty sweet years of healthy country life had settheir seal of grace and color upon the child of the union of twonoble, sturdy stocks; all that was best of a brave dead man and afair dead woman was mirrored in the pride of her face, the candor ofher eyes, the courage of her mouth. Lost father and lost mother hadmade a strange pair; all their excellences were summed and multipliedin their bright child's being. A dozen gallant gentlemen of Oxford orWarwickshire would have given their fortunes for the smallestscissors-clipping of one sable curl, would have perilled their livesfor one kind smile of those blue eyes, would have bartered theirscanty chances of salvation for the first kiss of her fresh lips.
While she descended the stairs Halfman never took his eyes off thelady. He found himself wishing he were a painter, that he mightperpetuate her graces through a few favored generations who mightbehold and adore her dimly as he beheld and adored her clearly, inher riding-dress of Lincoln green, whose voluminous superfluity sheheld gathered to her girdle as she moved. No painter could havescanned her more closely, noted more minutely the buckle ofbrilliants that captured the plume in her hat, the lace about herthroat, the curious work upon her leather gauntlets, the firm foot inthe small, square shoe, the riding-whip with its pommel of gold whichshe carried so commandingly. Lovely shadows trooped into his mind,names that had been naught but names to him till now--Rosalind,Camiola, Bianca. They had passed before him as so many smooth-facedyouths, carrying awkwardly and awry their woman's wear, andlamentably uninspiring. Now he saw all these divine ladies take lifeincarnate in this divine lady, and he marvelled which of theloveliest of the rarely named company could have shone on her poet'seyes so dazzlingly as this creature.
He stared in silence till she had reached the foot of the staircase,still stared silent as she advanced towards him. There was nothingdisrespectful in his direct glance, but the steadfastness and thesilence stirred her challenge.
"Sir," she said, "when you asked to see me it was not, I hope, in thethought to stare me out of countenance."
Halfman made her a sweeping salutation and found his voice with aneffort, but his words did not interpret the admiration of his eyes.
"I asked to see you," he answered, respectfully, "because I ride withtidings that may touch you. I am newly from Cambridge."
Brilliana's eyes widened.
"What do you carry from Cambridge?" she asked; then swiftly added,"But first, I pray you, be seated."
She pointed to a chair on one side of the great table, and to set himthe example seated herself at another. Halfman bowed and took hisappointed place, resting his hat upon his knees.
"Lady," he said, "there was at Cambridge a certain Parliament man whoplays at being a soldier, and though he should be no more than plainmaster, those that would do him pleasure call him Captain or ColonelCromwell."
Brilliana frowned a little. "I have heard of the man," she said. "Hetalks treason at Westminster; he is the King's enemy."
Halfman leaned a little nearer to her across the table and spoke witha well-managed air of mystery.
"Captain Cromwell is not only the King's enemy; he is also the enemyof the Lady Brilliana Harby."
Brilliana shook her dark head proudly, and Halfman thought that hercurls glanced like the arrows of Apollo.
"Any enemy of the King is an enemy to me, but not he, as I think,more than another."
Halfman tapped the table impressively.
"There you are mistaken, lady," he said. "The man is very especiallyand particularly your enemy. He has been very busy of late inCambridge raising train-bands, capturing college plate, and the likenaughtinesses, but he has not been so busy as not to hear how theKing's flag flies unchallenged from the walls of Harby."
"And shall fly there so long as I live," Brilliana interrupted,hotly.
Halfman smiled approval of her heat, yet shook his head dubiously.
"It shall not fly long unchallenged," he continued. "That is my news.Master Cromwell--may the devil fly away with his soldier's title--issending hither a company of sour-faced Puritans to bid you haul downyour flag."
Even as he spoke his heart glowed at the instant effect of his wordsupon the woman. She sprang to her feet, with flaming cheeks andblazing eyes, and struck her white hand upon the table.
"That flag flies," she cried, "for the honor of Harby. Whoeverchallenges the honor of Harby will find it a very dragon, with teethand claws and a fiery breath."
Halfman sprang to his feet, too, and gave the gallant girl a militarysalute. Every fibre of him now tingled with loyalty to the royalquarrel; he was a King's man through and through, had been so forsure from his cradle.
"Lady," he almost shouted, "you make a gallant warrior, and I will beproud to serve you." Seeing the surprise in her eyes, he hurried on:"Lady, I am an old soldier, an old sailor. I have seen hot service inhot lands; have helped to take towns and helped to hold towns, and ifit be your pleasure, as it will be your prudence, to avail of my aid,I will show you how we can maintain this place against an army."
Brilliana rested her hands on the table, and, leaning forward, lookedsteadily into Halfman's face. He accepted the scrutiny steadily; hewas all in all her servant. She seemed to read so much.
"If your news be true," she said, "and if you do not overboast yourskill, why, I shall be very glad of your aid and counsel."
"Your hand on that, gallant captain," clamored Halfman, all aflame ofpride and pleasure. And across the oaken table the Lady of Harby andthe adventurer clasped hands in compact.
The Lady of Loyalty House: A Novel Page 4