CHAPTER VIII
D'AGUILAR SPEAKS
"Losses?" said d'Aguilar. "Do I hear the wealthy John Castell, who holdshalf the trade with Spain in the hollow of his hand, talk of losses?"
"Yes, Senor, you do. Things have gone ill with this ship of mine thathas barely lived through the spring gales. But be seated."
"Indeed, is that so?" said d'Aguilar as he sat down. "What a lying jadeis rumour! For I was told that they had gone very well. Doubtless,however, what is loss to you would be priceless gain to one like me."
Castell made no answer, but waited, feeling that his visitor had notcome to speak with him of his trading ventures.
"Senor Castell," said d'Aguilar, with a note of nervousness in hisvoice, "I am here to ask you for something."
"If it be a loan, Senor, I fear that the time is not opportune." And henodded towards the sheet of figures.
"It is not a loan; it is a gift."
"Anything in my poor house is yours," answered Castell courteously, andin Oriental form.
"I rejoice to hear it, Senor, for I seek something from your house."
Castell looked a question at him with his quick black eyes.
"I seek your daughter, the Senora Margaret, in marriage."
Castell stared at him, then a single word broke from his lips.
"Impossible."
"Why impossible?" asked d'Aguilar slowly, yet as one who expected somesuch answer. "In age we are not unsuited, nor perhaps in fortune, whileof rank I have enough, more than you guess perhaps. I vaunt not myself,yet women have thought me not uncomely. I should be a good friend to thehouse whence I took a wife, where perchance a day may come when friendswill be needed; and lastly, I desire her not for what she may bring withher, though wealth is always welcome, but--I pray you to believeit--because I love her."
"I have heard that the Senor d'Aguilar loves many women, yonder inGranada."
"As I have heard that the _Margaret_ had a prosperous voyage, SenorCastell. Rumour, as I said but now, is a lying jade. Yet I will not copyher. I have been no saint. Now I would become one, for Margaret's sake.I will be true to your daughter, Senor. What say you now?"
Castell only shook his head.
"Listen," went on d'Aguilar. "I am more than I seem to be; she who wedsme will not lack for rank and titles."
"Yes, you are the Marquis de Morella, the reputed son of Prince Carlosof Viana by a Moorish mother, and therefore nephew to his Majestyof Spain."
D'Aguilar looked at him, then bowed and said:
"Your information is good--as good as mine, almost. Doubtless you do notlike that bar in the blood. Well, if it were not there, I should bewhere Ferdinand is, should I not? So I do not like it either, though itis good blood and ancient--that of those high-bred Moors. Now, may notthe nephew of a king and the son of a princess of Granada be fit to matewith the daughter of--a Jew, yes, a Marano, and of a Christian Englishlady, of good family, but no more?"
Castell lifted his hand as though to speak; but d'Aguilar went on:
"Deny it not, friend; it is not worth while here in private. Was therenot a certain Isaac of Toledo who, hard on fifty years ago, left Spain,for his own reasons, with a little son, and in London became known asJoseph Castell, having, with his son, been baptized into the HolyChurch? Ah! you see you are not the only one who studies genealogies."
"Well, Senor, if so, what of it?"
"What of it? Nothing at all, friend Castell. It is an old story, is itnot, and, as that Isaac is long dead and his son has been a goodChristian for nearly fifty years and had a Christian wife and child, whowill trouble himself about such a matter? If he were openly a Hebrewnow, or worse still, if pretending to be a Christian, he in secretpractised the rites of the accursed Jews, why then----"
"Then what?"
"Then, of course, he would be expelled this land, where no Jew maylive, his wealth would be forfeit to its king, whose ward his daughterwould become, to be given in marriage where he willed, while he himself,being Spanish born, might perhaps be handed over to the power of Spain,there to make answer to these charges. But we wander to strange matters.Is that alliance still impossible, Senor?"
Castell looked him straight in the eyes and answered:
"Yes."
There was something so bold and direct in his utterance of the word thatfor a moment d'Aguilar seemed to be taken aback. He had not expectedthis sharp denial.
"It would be courteous to give a reason," he said presently.
"The reason is simple, Marquis. My daughter is already betrothed, andwill ere long be wedded."
D'Aguilar did not seem surprised at this intelligence.
"To that brawler, your kinsman, Peter Brome, I suppose?" he saidinterrogatively. "I guessed as much, and by the saints I am sorry forher, for he must be a dull lover to one so fair and bright; while as ahusband--" And he shrugged his shoulders. "Friend Castell, for her sakeyou will break off this match."
"And if I will not, Marquis?"
"Then I must break it off for you in the interest of all of us,including, of course, myself, who love her, and wish to lift her to agreat place, and of yourself, whom I desire should pass your old age inpeace and wealth, and not be hunted to your death like a mad dog."
"How will you break it, Marquis? by--"
"Oh no, Senor!" answered d'Aguilar, "not by other men's swords--if thatis what you mean. The worthy Peter is safe from them so far as I amconcerned, though if he should come face to face with mine, then let thebest man win. Have no fear, friend, I do not practise murder, who valuemy own soul too much to soak it in blood, nor would I marry a womanexcept of her own free will. Still, Peter may die, and the fair Margaretmay still place her hand in mine and say, 'I choose you as my husband.'"
"All these things, and many others, may happen, Marquis; but I do notthink it likely that they will happen, and for my part, whilst thankingyou for it, I decline your honourable offer, believing that my daughterwill be more happy in her present humble state with the man she haschosen. Have I your leave to return to my accounts?" And he rose.
"Yes, Senor," answered d'Aguilar, rising also; "but add an item to thoselosses of which you spoke, that of the friendship of Carlos, Marquis deMorella, and on the other side enter again that of his hate. Man!" headded, and his dark, handsome face turned very evil as he spoke, "areyou mad? Think of the little tabernacle behind the altar in your chapel,and what it contains."
Castell stared at him, then said:
"Come, let us see. Nay, fear no trick; like you I remember my soul, anddo not stain my hands with blood. Follow me, so you will be safe."
Curiosity, or some other reason, prompted d'Aguilar to obey, andpresently they stood behind the altar.
"Now," said Castell, as he drew the tapestry and opened the secret door,"look!" D'Aguilar peered into the place; but where should have beenthe table, the ark, the candlesticks, and the roll of the law of whichBetty had told him, were only old dusty boxes filled with parchments andsome broken furniture.
"What do you see?" asked Castell.
"I see, friend, that you are even a cleverer Jew than I thought. Butthis is a matter that you must explain to others in due season. Believeme, I am no inquisitor." Then without more words he turned and left him.
When Castell, having shut the secret door and drawn the tapestry,hurried from the chapel, it was to find that the marquis had departed.
He went back to his office much disturbed, and sat himself down there tothink. Truly Fate, that had so long been his friend, was turning itsface against him. Things could not have gone worse. D'Aguilar haddiscovered the secret of his faith through his spies, and, having bysome accursed mischance fallen in love with his daughter's beauty, wasbecome his bitter enemy because he must refuse her to him. Why must herefuse her? The man was of great position and noble blood; she wouldbecome the wife of one of the first grandees of Spain, one who stoodnearest to the throne. Perhaps--such a thing was possible--she mightlive herself to be queen, or the mother of kings. Mor
eover, thatmarriage meant safety for himself; it meant a quiet age, a peaceabledeath in his own bed--for, were he fifty times a Marano, who would touchthe father-in-law of the Marquis de Morella? Why? Just because he hadpromised her in marriage to Peter Brome, and through all his life as amerchant he had never yet broken with a bargain because it went againsthimself. That was the answer. Yet almost he could find it in his heartto wish that he had never made that bargain; that he had kept Peter, whohad waited so long, waiting for another month. Well, it was too latenow. He had passed his word, and he would keep it, whatever thecost might be.
Rising, he called one of the servants, and bade her summon Margaret.Presently she returned, saying that her mistress had gone out walkingwith Betty, adding also that his horse was at the door for him to rideto the river, where he was to pass the night on board his ship.
Taking paper, he bethought him that he would write to Margaret, warningher against the Spaniard. Then, remembering that she had nothing to fearfrom him, at any rate at present, and that it was not wise to set downsuch matters, he told her only to take good care of herself, and that hewould be back in the morning.
That evening, when Margaret was in her own little sitting-chamber whichadjoined the great hall, the door opened, and she looked up from thework upon which she was engaged, to see d'Aguilar standing before her.
"Senor!" she said, amazed, "how came you here?"
"Senora," he answered, closing the door and bowing, "my feet brought me.Had I any other means of coming I think that I should not often beabsent from our side."
"Spare me your fine words, I pray you, Senor," answered Margaret,frowning. "It is not fitting that I should receive you thus alone atnight, my father being absent from the house." And she made as thoughshe would pass him and reach the door.
D'Aguilar, who stood in front of it, did not move, so perforce shestopped half way.
"I found that he was absent," he said courteously, "and that is why Iventure to address you upon a matter of some importance. Give me a fewminutes of your time, therefore, I beseech you."
Now, at once the thought entered Margaret's mind that he had some newsof Peter to communicate to her--bad news perhaps.
"Be seated, and speak on, Senor," she said, sinking into a chair, whilehe too sat down, but still in front of the door.
"Senora," he said, "my business in this country is finished, and in afew days I sail hence for Spain." And he hesitated a moment.
"I trust that your voyage will be pleasant," said Margaret, not knowingwhat else to answer.
"I trust so also, Senora, since I have come to ask you if you will shareit. Listen, before you refuse. To-day I saw your father, and begged yourhand of him. He would give me no answer, neither yea nor nay, sayingthat you were your own mistress, and that I must seek it fromyour lips."
"My father said that?" gasped Margaret, astonished, then bethought herthat he might have had reasons for speaking so, and went on rapidly,"Well, it is short and simple. I thank you, Senor; but stayin England."
"Even that I would be willing to do for your sake Senora, though, intruth, I find it a cold and barbarous country."
"If so, Senor d'Aguilar, I think that I should go to Spain. I pray youlet me pass."
"Not till you have heard me out, Senora, when I trust that your wordswill be more gentle. See now I am a great man in my own country.Although it suits me to pass here incognito as plain Senor d'Aguilar Iam the Marquis of Morella, the nephew of Ferdinand the King, with somewealth and station, official and private. If you disbelieve me, I canprove it to you."
"I do not disbelieve," answered Margaret indifferently, "it may well beso; but what is that to me?"
"Then is it not something, Lady, that I, who have blood-royal in myveins, should seek the daughter of a merchant to be my wife?"
"Nothing at all--to me, who am satisfied with my humble lot."
"Is it nothing to you that I should love as I do, with all my heart andsoul? Marry me, and I tell you that I will lift you high, yes, perhapseven to the throne."
She thought a moment, then asked:
"The bribe is great, but how would you do that? Many a maid has beendeceived with false jewels, Senor."
"How has it been done before? Not every one loves Ferdinand. I have manyfriends who remember that my father was poisoned by his father andFerdinand's, he being the elder son. Also, my mother was a princess ofthe Moors, and if I, who dwell among them as the envoy of theirMajesties, threw in my sword with theirs--or there are other ways. But Iam speaking things that have never passed my lips before, which, werethey known, would cost me my head--let it serve to show how much Itrust you."
"I thank you, Senor, for your trust; but this crown seems to me set upona peak that it is dangerous to climb, and I had sooner sit in safety onthe plain."
"You reject the pomp," went on d'Aguilar in his passionate, pleadingvoice, "then will not the love move you? Oh! you shall be worshipped asnever woman was. I swear to you that in your eyes there is a light whichhas set my heart on fire, so that it burns night and day, and will notbe quenched. Your voice is my sweetest music, your hair is a cord thatbinds me to you faster than the prisoner's chain, and, when you pass,for me Venus walks the earth. More, your mind is pure and noble as yourbeauty, and by the aid of it I shall be lifted up through the highplaces of the earth to some white throne in heaven. I love you, my lady,my fair Margaret; because of you, all other women are become coarse andhateful in my sight. See how much I love you, that I, one of the firstgrandees of Spain, do this for your sweet sake," and suddenly he casthimself upon his knees before her, and lifting the hem of her dresspressed it to his lips.
Margaret looked down at him, and the anger that was rising in her breastmelted, while with it went her fear. This man was much in earnest; shecould not doubt it. The hand that held her robe trembled like shakenwater, his face was ashen, and in his dark eyes swam tears. What causehad she to be afraid of one who was so much her slave?
"Senor," she said very gently, "rise, I pray you. Do not waste all thislove upon one who chances to have caught your fancy, but who is quiteunworthy of it, and far beneath you; one, moreover, by whom it may notbe returned. Senor, I am already affianced. Therefore, put me out ofyour mind and find some other love."
He rose and stood in front of her.
"Affianced," he said, "I knew it. Nay, I will say no ill of the man; torevile one more fortunate is poor argument. But what is it to me if youare affianced? What to me if you were wed? I should seek you all thesame, who have no choice. Beneath me? You are as far above me as a star,and it would seem as hard to reach. Seek some other love? I tell you,lady, that I have sought many, for not all are so hard to win, and Ihate them every one. You I desire alone, and shall desire till I bedead, aye, and you I will win or die. No, I will not die till you are myown. Have no fear, I will not kill your lover, save perhaps in fairfight; I will not force you to give yourself to me, should I find thechance, but with your own lips I will yet listen to you asking me to beyour husband. I swear it by Him Who died for us. I swear that, layingaside all other ends, to that sole purpose I will devote my days. Yes,and should you chance to pass from earth before me, then I will followyou to the very gates of death and clasp you there."
Now again Margaret's fear returned to her. This man's passion wasterrible, yet there was a grandeur in it; Peter had never spoken to herin so high a fashion.
"Senor," she said almost pleadingly, "corpses are poor brides; have donewith such sick fancies, which surely must be born of yourEastern blood."
"It is your blood also, who are half a Jew, and, therefore, at least youshould understand them."
"Mayhap I do understand, mayhap I think them great in their own fashion,yes, noble even, and admire, if it can be noble to seek to win awayanother man's betrothed. But, Senor, I am that man's betrothed, and allof me, my body and my soul, is his, nor would I go back upon my word,and so break his heart, to win the empire of the earth. Senor, once moreI implore you to leave this poor maid to
the humble life that she haschosen, and to forget her."
"Lady," answered d'Aguilar, "your words are wise and gentle, and I thankyou for them. But I cannot forget you, and that oath I swore just now Iswear again, thus." And before she could prevent him, or even guess whathe was about to do, he lifted the gold crucifix that hung by a chainabout her neck, kissed it, and let it fall gently back upon her breast,saying, "See, I might have kissed your lips before you could have stayedme, but that I will never do until you give me leave, so in place ofthem I kiss the cross, which till then we both must carry. Lady, my ladyMargaret, within a day or two I sail for Spain, but your image shallsail with me, and I believe that ere long our paths must cross again.How can it be otherwise since the threads of your life and mine wereintertwined on that night outside the Palace of Westminster--intertwined never to be separated till one of us has ceasedto be, and then only for a little while. Lady, for the present,farewell."
Then swiftly and silently as he had come, d'Aguilar went.
It was Betty who let him out at the side door, as she had let him in.More, glancing round to see that she was not observed--for it chancednow that Peter was away with some of the best men, and the master wasout with others, no one was on watch this night--leaving the door ajarthat she might re-enter, she followed him a little way, till they cameto an old arch, which in some bygone time had led to a house now pulleddown. Into this dark place Betty slipped, touching d'Aguilar on the armas she did so. For a moment he hesitated, then, muttering some Spanishoath between his teeth, followed her.
"Well, most fair Betty," he said, "what word have you for me now?"
"The question is, Senor Carlos," answered Betty with scarcely suppressedindignation, "what word you have for me, who dared so much for youto-night? That you have plenty for my cousin, I know, since standing inthe cold garden I could hear you talk, talk, talk, through the shutters,as though for your very life."
"I pray that those shutters had no hole in them," reflected d'Aguilar tohimself. "No, there was a curtain also; she can have seen nothing." Butaloud he answered: "Mistress Betty, you should not stand about in thisbitter wind; you might fall ill, and then what should I suffer?"
"I don't know, nothing perhaps; that would be left to me. What I want tounderstand is, why you plan to come to see me, and then spend an hourwith Margaret?"
"To avert suspicion, most dear Betty. Also I had to talk to her of thisPeter, in whom she seems so greatly interested. You are very shrewd,Betty--tell me, is that to be a match?"
"I think so; I have been told nothing, but I have noticed many things,and almost every day she is writing to him, though why she should carefor that owl of a man I cannot guess."
"Doubtless because she appreciates solid worth, Betty, as I do in you.Who can account for the impulses of the heart, which come, say some ofthe learned, from heaven, and others, from hell? At least it is noaffair of ours, so let us wish them happiness, and, after they aremarried, a large and healthy family. Meanwhile, dear Betty, are youmaking ready for your voyage to Spain?"
"I don't know," answered Betty gloomily. "I am not sure that I trust youand your fine words. If you want to marry me, as you swear, and be sureI look for nothing less, why cannot it be before we start, and how am Ito know that you will do so when we get there?"
"You ask many questions, Betty, all of which I have answered before. Ihave told you that I cannot marry you here because of that permissionwhich is necessary on account of the difference in our ranks. Here,where your place is known, it is not to be had; there, where you willpass as a great English lady--as of course you are by birth--I canobtain it in an hour. But if you have any doubts, although it cuts meto the heart to say it, it would be best that we should part at once. Iwill take no wife who does not trust me fully and alone. Say then, cruelBetty, do you wish to leave me?"
"You know I don't; you know it would kill me," she answered in a voicethat was thick with passion, "you know I worship the ground you tread on,and hate every woman you go near, yes, even my cousin who has been sogood to me, and whom I love. I will take the risk and come with you,believing you to be an honest gentleman, who would not deceive a girlwho trusts him; and if you do, may God deal with you as I shall, for Iam no toy to be broken and thrown away, as you would find out. Yes, Iwill take the risk because you have made me love you so that I cannotlive without you."
"Betty, your words fill me with rapture, showing me that I have notmisread your noble mind; but speak a little lower--there are echoes inthis hole. Now for the plans, for time is short, and you may be missed.When I am about to sail I will invite Mistress Margaret and yourself tocome aboard my ship."
"Why not invite me without my cousin Margaret?" asked Betty.
"Because it would excite suspicion which we must avoid--do not interruptme. I will invite you both or get you there upon some other pretext, andthen I will arrange that she shall be brought ashore again and you takenon. Leave it all to me, only swear that you will obey any instructions Imay send you for if you do not, I tell you that we have enemies in highplaces who may part us for ever. Betty, I will be frank, there is agreat lady who is jealous, and watches you very closely. Do you swear?"
"Yes, yes, I swear. But about the great lady?"
"Not a word about her--on your life--and mine. You shall hear from meshortly. And now, sweetheart--good-night."
"Good-night," said Betty, but still she did not stir.
Then, understanding that she expected something more, d'Aguilar nervedhimself to the task, and touched her hair with his lips.
Next moment he regretted it, for even that tempered salute fanned herpassion into flame.
Throwing her arms about his neck Betty drew his face to hers and kissedhim many times, till at length he broke, half choking, from her embrace,and escaped into the street.
"Mother of Heaven!" he muttered to himself, "the woman is a volcano ineruption. I shall feel her kisses for a week," and he rubbed his faceruefully with his hand. "I wish I had made some other plan; but it istoo late to change it now--she would betray everything. Well, I will berid of her somehow, if I have to drown her. A hard fate to love themistress and be loved of the maid!"
Fair Margaret Page 8