My heart stood still,for now everything was on the fall of the dice.Would this mad girl be mocking or meek?Would she anger my lady to my ruin with her sharp tongue?For Charlotte was of a high temper,and wont to rule all the house by reason of her beauty and kind wild ways.Nor was Elliot the meekest of women,as well Iknew,and a word,nay a smile,or a glance of mockery,might lightly turn her heart from me again for ever.Oh!the lot of a lover is hard,at least if he has set all his heart on the cast,as I had done,and verily,as our Scots saw runs,"women are kittle cattle."It is a strange thing that one who has learned not to blench from a bare blade,or in bursting of cannon-balls and flight of arrows,should so easily be daunted where a weak girl is concerned;yet so it was in my case.I know not if I feared more than now when Brother Thomas had me in the still chamber,alone at his mercy.
So the minutes went by,the sun and shade flickering through the boughs of the mulberry-tree,and the time seemed long.Perchance,Ithought,there had been war,as Charlotte had said,and my lady had departed in anger with her father,and I was all undone.Yet Idared not go to seek them in the house,not knowing how matters were passing,and whether I should do good or harm.So I waited,and at length Charlotte came forth alone.Now she walked slowly,her eyes bent on the ground,and,as she drew near,I saw that they were red,and I guessed that she had been weeping.So I gave up all for lost,and my heart turned to water within me.
"I am sent to bid you come in,"she said gravely.
"What has passed?"I cried."For the saints'sake,tell me all!""This has passed,that I have seen such a lady as I never dreamed Ishould see,and she has made me weep--foolish that I am!""Why,what did she?Did she speak unkindly then,to my kind nurse?"For this I could in no manner have endured,nor have abased myself to love one that was unjust,how dear soever;and none could be dearer than Elliot.Yet unjust she might have been;and this thought to me was the greatest torment.
"Speak unkind words?Oh,I remember my foolish talk,how I said that she would never forgive me while the world stands.Nay,while her father was with mine and with my mother,thanking them for what they did for you,she led me apart to devise with me,and I took her to my chamber,and there,with tears in her eyes,and in the sweetest manner,she prayed me to pardon her for that she had been mad for a moment;and so,looking meek as an angel,she awaited my word.And I could not but weep,though to weep is never my way,and we embraced each the other,and I told her how all your converse had ever been of her,even when you were beside yourself,in your fever,and how never was so faithful a lover.Nay,I bid you be glad,for I never deemed that any woman living on earth would so repent and so confess herself to another,where she herself had first been wroth,but would blame all the world rather,and herself--never.So we women are not all alike,as I thought;for I would hardly have forgiven,if I know myself;and yet I am no worse than another.
Truly,she has been much with the Maid,and has caught from her this,to be like her,who is alone among women,and of the greatest heart."Here she ceased to speak very gravely,as she had till now done,and breaking out into a sweet laughter,she cried -"Nevertheless I am not wholly a false prophetess,for to-day you go with them southward,to Tours,to change the air,as the physician counsels,and so now we part.O false Scot!"she said,laughing again,"how have you the ill courtesy to look so joyous?Nay,Ishall change your cheer";and with that she stooped and kissed my cheek,saying,"Go,and joy go with you,as joy abides with me,to see my sick man look so strong again.Come,they are waiting for us,and you know we must not tarry."Then,giving me her arm,she led me in,and if one of us twain had a shamefaced guise,verify it was not Charlotte Boucher.
"I yield you back your esquire,fair lady,"she said merrily,making obeisance to Elliot,who stood up,very pale,to receive us.
"He has got no ill in the bower of the enchantress,"said my master;whereat,Elliot seeming some deal confused,and blushing,Charlotte bustled about,bringing wine and meat,and waiting upon all of us,and on her father and mother at table.A merry dinner it was among the elder folk,but Elliot and I were somewhat silent,and a great joy it was to me,and a heavy weight off my heart,I do confess,when,dinner being ended,and all courtesies done and said,my raiment was encased in wallets,and we all went through the garden,to Loire side;and so,with many farewells,took boat and sailed down the river,under the Bridge of Orleans,towards Blois.But Charlotte I never saw again,nor did I ever speak of her to Elliot,nor Elliot of her to me,from that day forth.
But within short space came tidings,how that Charlotte was wedding a young burgess of Orleans,with whom,as I hear,she dwelt happily,and still,for all I know,dwells in peace.As I deem,she kept her lord in a merry life,yet in great order and obedience.So now there is no more to tell of her,save that her picture comes back before me--a tall,brown girl,with black hair and eyes like the hue of hazel boughs glassed in running water,clad in white and green and red,standing smiling beneath the red-and-white blossoms of an apple-tree,in the green garden of Jacques Boucher.
