the caged lion- 第58部分

Esclairmonde　held　out　her　hand　to　Malcolm；　saying；　'The　thanks　I　owe　you；　Sir；　are　beyond　what　tongue　can　tell。　　May　He　to　Whom　my　first　vows　were　due　requite　it　to　you。'

And　Malcolm；　with　his　knee　to　the　ground；　pressing　for　the　last　time　that　fair　hand；　said；　'The　thanks；　lady；　are　mine。　　Had　you　been　one　whit　lower　in　aims　or　in　constancy；　what　had　I　been？　　You　were　my　light　of　the　world；　but　to　light　me　to　seek　that　higher　Light　that　shone　forth　in　you；　and　which　may　I　show　truly　to　the　darkened　spirits　of　my　countrymen！　　Lady；　you　will　permit　me　to　take　to　myself　the　ring　you　have　worn　so　long。　　It　will　be　my　token　of　my　betrothal　to　that　true　Light。'

Such　was　their　parting；　when　the　one　went　forth　to　her　tasks　of　charity　among　the　poor　in　London；　the　other　to　divest　himself　of　land　and　lordship　on　behalf　of　his　sister　and　her　husband；　and　then　to　begin　his　task　in　the　priesthood；　of　trying　to　hold　up　the　true　Light　to　hearts　darkened　by　many　an　age　of　crime　and　ignorance。

Lived　very　happy　ever　after！　　Yes；　we　would　fain　always　leave　the　creatures　with　whom　our　thoughts　have　been　busy　in　such　felicity；　but　when　we　have　linked　them　with　real　events；　the　sense　of　the　veritable　course　of　history　reminds　us　that　we　cannot　even　suppose　beings　possible　in　real　life　without　endowing　them　with　the　common　lot　of　humanity；　and　the　personages　of　our　tale　lived　in　a　time　of　more　than　ordinary　reverse　and　trouble。

Yet　Sir　Patrick　Drummond　and　Lilias　his　wife；　the　Lord　and　Lady　of　Glenuskie；　nearly　did　fulfil　these　conditions。　　They　had　not　feelings　beyond　their　age；　but　they　were　good　specimens　of　that　age；　and　they　did　their　duty　in　it；　he　as　a　trustworthy　noble；　ready　to　aid　in　council　or　war；　and　she　as　the　beneficent　dame；　bringing　piety　and　charity　to　heal　the　sufferings　of　her　vassals　and　serfs。　　His　hand　was　strong　enough　to　repel　the　attacks　of　his　foes；　her　intelligence；　backed　by　Malcolm's　counsel；　introduced　improvements；　and　the　little　ravine　of　Glenuskie　was　a　happy　valley　of　peace　and　prosperity　for　many　years　among　the　convulsions　of　Scotland。

Nor　was　Esclairmonde　de　Luxemburg's　life　in　the　Hospital　of　St。　Katharine　otherwise　than　the　holy　and　beneficent　career　that　she　had　always　longed　forworshipping　in　the　fair　church；　and　going　forth　from　thence　'into　the　streets　and　lanes　of　the　city；'　to　fulfil　Queen　Philippa's　pious　behest；　to　seek　out　the　suffering　and　the　ignorant；　and　to　tend　and　instruct　them。　　The　tall　form　and　beautiful　countenance　of　Sister　Clare　were　loved　and　reverenced　as　those　of　an　angel　messenger　among　the　high　houses　and　courts　that　closed　in　on　the　banks　of　the　Thames；　and　while　Luxemburgs　in　France　and　Flanders　intrigued　and　fought；　plotted　and　fell；　their　kinswoman's　days　passed　by　in　busy　alms…deeds　and　ever　loftier　devotion；　till　those　who　watched　her　steps　felt　that　she　was　verily　a　light　of　the　world；　manifesting　forth　the　true　Light　in　many　a　dark　place。

And　her　light　of　sympathy　shone　upon　many　an　old　friend　both　in　joy　and　in　grief。　　When　the　dissensions　of　Gloucester　and　Beaufort　had　summoned　Bedford　to　England　to　endeavour　to　appease　their　strife；　his　Burgundian　Duchess　sought　out　her　early　friend；　and　Esclairmonde　saw　her　gentle　companion；　the　Lady　Anne；　fulfilling　her　daily　task　of　mediation；　and　living　a　life；　not　indeed　very　sunshiny；　but　full　of　all　that　esteem　and　respect　could　give　her；　and　of　calm　gratitude　and　affection；　although　Anne；　like　all　others；　believed　that　John　of　Bedford's　heart　had　been　buried　in　his　brother's　grave；　and　that　of　youthful　love　he　had　none　to　give。　　His　whole　soul　was　absorbed　in　his　care　for　the　welfare　of　the　pale；　gentle；　dreamy；　inanimate　boy；　who；　from　his　very　meekness　and　docility；　gave　so　little　promise　of　representing　the　father　whose　name　he　bore。

The　loving　Alice　of　Montagu；　though　the　mother　of　many　a　bold　boy　and　girl；　and　busy　with　all　the　cares　of　the　great　Nevil　household；　regarded　as　the　chief　delight　in　a　journey　to　court　the　sight　of　her　dear　Sister　Clare。　　It　was　to　Sister　Clare　that　Alice　turned　for　comfort　when　her　brave　old　father　died　at　the　siege　of　Orleans；　and　it　was　while　daily　soothing　and　ministering　to　her　sorrow　that　Esclairmonde　heard　the　strange　wild　tales　of　the　terrible　witch　maiden　who　had　appeared　on　behalf　of　the　French；　and　turned　whole　English　armies　to　flight；　by　power　that　the　French　declared　to　come　from　the　saints；　but　which　the　English　never　doubted　to　be　infernal。　Maimed　and　wounded　soldiers；　whom　Esclairmonde　relieved　and　tended　as　they　returned　from　lost　battles；　gave　her　fearful　accounts　of　the　panic　that　La　Pucelle　inspired。　　Even　the　hardy　veteran；　Sir　John　Fastolfe；　had　not　been　able　to　withstand　her　spells；　but　had　fled　from　the　field　of　Jergeau；　where　gallant　Sir　Ralf　Percy　had　died；　in　a　vain　attempt　to　gather　the　men　to　resist　the　irresistible　maiden。　His　groom；　who　had　succumbed　for　a　time　to　wounds　and　weakness　on　his　way　home　to　Alnwick；　was　touched　by　the　warmth　and　emotion　with　which　the　kind　bedeswoman　listened　to　his　lamentation　over　the　good　and　loyal　knight；　whom　she　pictured　to　herself　resisting　the　enchantress's　dread　power　as　dauntlessly　as　he　had　defied　the　phantoms　of　the　Dance　of　Death。

No　whisper　ever　reached　Esclairmonde　that　the　terrible　Pucelle　was　a　maiden　as　pure　and　high…souled　as　herself。　　All　that　she　heard　more　was　that　this　terror　of　the　English　and　Burgundians　was　taken；　imprisoned　for　a　time　by　her　own　Luxemburg　kindred；　and　then　carried　to　Rouen；　where　the　kind　Duchess　Anne　of　Bedford　did　her　best　to　persuade　her　to　overcome　the　superstition　that　kept　her　in　male　garments；　thus　greatly　tending　to　increase　the　belief　in　her　connection　with　the　powers　of　evil。　　French　and　Burgundian　bishops；　and　even　the　University　of　Paris；　were　the　judges　of　the　maiden；　and　the　dastard　prince　she　had　crowned　never　stirred　a　finger　nor　uttered　a　protest　in　her　behalf。　　Bedford；　always　disposed　to　belief　in　witchcraft；　acquiesced　in　the　decision　of　Churchmen；　which　was　therefore　called　the　judgment　of　the　Church；　but　when　he　removed　himself　and　his　duchess　from　Rouen；　and　left　the　conduct　of　the　matter　to　the　sterner　and　harder　Beauchamp；　Earl　of　Warwick；　it　was　with　little　thought　that　after…generations　would　load　his　memory　with　the　fate　of　Jeanne　d'Arc；　as　though　her　sufferings　had　proceeded　from　his　individual　malice。

Esclairmonde　never　saw　Bedford　again；　and　only　heard　through　Alice；　now　Countess　of　Salisbury；　how　when　good　Duchess　Anne　was　dead；　and　her　gentle　influence　removed；　Burgundy's　disinclination　to　the　English　cause　was　no　longer　balanced；　and　how　Bedford；　perplexed；　disheartened；　broken　in　health；　but　still　earnest　to　propitiate　friends　for　his　helpless　nephew；　had　listened　to　the　wily　whisper　of　the　Bishop　of　Therouenne；　that　his　niece；　Jaquette；　would　secure　the　devotion　of　the　Count　de　St。　Pol；　and　that　she　was　moreover　like　unto　another　Demoiselle　de　Luxemburg。

How　like；　Esclairmonde　could　judge；　when　her　kinswoman；　widowed　in　her　eighteenth　year；　at　six　months'　end；　came　to　London　to　claim　her　dower。　　Never；　since　her　days　of　wandering　and　anxiety；　had　Esclairmonde　felt　such　pain　as　when　she　perceived　how　little　store　the　thoughtless　girl　had　set　by　the　great　and　noble　spirit　that　had　been　quenched　under　the　load　of　toil　and　care　with　which　it　had　battled　for　thirteen　long　years。　　Faithful；　great…hearted　Bedford；　striving　to　uphold　a　losing　cause；　to　reconcile　selfish　contentions；　to　retain　conquests　that；　though　unjustly　made；　he　had　no　power　to　relinquish；　and　all　without　one　trustworthy　relation；　with　friends　and　fellow…warriors　dying；　disputing；　betraying；　or　deserting；　his　was　as　self…devoted　and　as　mournful　a　career　as　ever　was　run　by　any　prince　at　any　age　of　the　world；　and　while　he　slept　in　his　grave　at　Rouen；　that　grave　which　even　Louis　XI。　respected；　Esclairmonde；　as；　like　a　true　bedeswoman　of　St。　Katharine；　she　joined　in　the　orisons　for　the　repose　of　the　souls　of　the　royal　kindred；　never　heard　the　name　of　the　Lord　John　without　a　throb　of　prayer；　and　a　throb　too　that　warmed　her　heart　with　tenderness。

It　was　some　four　years　later；　and　the　even　tenor　of　Sister　Clare's　course　had　only　been　interrupted　by　her　kinswoman；　Jaquette；　making　her　way　to　her　to　confess　her　marriage　with　Richard　Wydville；　and　to　entreat　her　intercession　with　the　Luxemburg　family；　when　one　summer　night　she　was　called　on　to　attend　a　pilgrim　priest　from　the　Holy　Land；　who　had　been　landed　from　a　Flemish　vessel；　and　lay　dangerously　sick　at　the　'God's　house；'　or　hospital；　by　the　river　side。　　He　was　thought　by　his　accent　to　be　foreign；　and　Sister　Clare　was　always　called　on　to　wait　upon　the　stranger。

As　she　stood　by　his　bedside；　she　beheld　a　man　of　middle　age；　but　wasted　with　sickness；　and　with　a　certain　strange　look　of　horror　so　imprinted　on　his　brow；　that　even　as　he　lay　asleep；　though　his　mouth　was　grave　and　peaceful；　the　lines　were　still　there；　and　the　locks　that　hung　from　around　his　tonsure　were　of　a　whiteness　that　scarce　accorded　with　the　features。　　It　was　a　face　that　Esclairmonde　could　not　look　at　without　waking　strange　memories；　but　it　was　not　till　the　sleeper　awakened；　opened　two　dark　eyes；　gazed　on　her　with　dreamy　doubtful　wonder；　and　then　clasped　his　hands　with　the　murmured　thanksgiving；　'My　God；　hast　Thou　granted　me　this？　　Light　of　my　life！'　that　she　was　assured　to　whom　she　was　speaking。

Malcolm　Stewart　it　verily　was。　　Canon　Malcolm　Stewart　of　Dunkeld　was　his　proper　title；　for　he　had；　as　she　knew；　long　ceased　to　be　Lord　of　Glenuskie。　　It　was　not　at　first　that　she　knew　how　he　had　been　brought　where　she　now　saw　him；　but　after　some　few　days　of　her　tender　care　and　skilful　leechcraft；　he　somewhat　rallied；　and　she　gathered　his　history　from　his　conversation　when　he　was　able　to　speak。

He　had　had　a　time　of　happy　labour　in　Scotland；　fully　carrying　out　the　designs　with　which　he　and　his　cousin　James　Kennedy　had　taken　upon　them　the　ministry。　　Their　own　birth；　and　the　appointments　their　King　gave　them；　so　soon　as　their　age　permitted；　made　them　able　to　exert　an　influence　that　told　upon　the　rude　and　unenlightened　clergy　around。　It　had　been　almost　a　mission　of　conversion；　to　awaken　a　spirit　of　Christianity　in　the　country；　that　had　so　long　been　a　prey　to　anarchy。　The　King'