An old habitation situated1 on the banks of the river between the gardens of Durham-place and the Savoy Hospital, then recently restored by Mary, served Constance as an asylum2. Thither3 she had been brought, after remaining a few days in a little hostel4 near Richmond.
The house had been long uninhabited, and was in a very dilapidated state. At the back there was a tolerably extensive garden, facing the river, and containing several fine trees, but, like the house to which it appertained, it was much neglected. Three or four back rooms, looking upon the garden, had been hastily furnished; but no change was made in the front of the habitation, for fear of exciting suspicion. Luckily, the garden was not overlooked, being bounded on the west by the high walls of Durham-place.
Though shut out from the world, Constance was far from finding her present mode of existence wearisome. Her time was fully5 employed either in her devotions, in reading, or in some feminine occupation. She never ventured forth6 except into the garden, and only took exercise there at night.
Of necessity, Osbert’s visits were rare, and stealthily paid. As the safest course, he approached the house by water, landed in a wherry at the stairs of Durham-place, and then scaled the garden wall. These short and stolen visits, which were always paid at night, could not be otherwise than agreeable to Constance, and she looked forward to his 165coming with interest; and if, as sometimes chanced, he did not appear at the usual hour, she retired7 sadly.
Under such circumstances, it will not appear surprising that the gratitude8 felt by the damsel for her preserver should ripen9 into a warmer feeling. After the first ardent10 declaration of his passion made to her, Osbert refrained for a while from renewing his suit; but at length, emboldened11 by the evident change in her manner, he ventured again, with as much impassioned earnestness as before, to pour forth his protestations of affection, coupled with entreaties12 to her consent to a speedy union.
To these oft-repeated solicitations she at last replied that she would not attempt to disguise her feelings, but would frankly13 own that he was now absolute master of her heart, yet still there was a serious obstacle to their marriage.
“An obstacle?” exclaimed Osbert. “Of what nature? Can it not be overcome? Speak! speak!”
“Herein, then, it lies,” she rejoined. “Our creeds14 are different. I have abjured15 the errors and idolatries of Rome, while you still cling to them.”
“Granted,” replied Osbert; “but this need be no hindrance16 to our union. I shall not quarrel with you on account of your religion. Who knows,” he added lightly, “but that in due time you may convert me?”
“Heaven grant me power to do so!” she exclaimed, fervently17. “Oh! that I could withdraw you from the paths of error, and bring you to those of truth. But much as I love you—much as I owe you—till you are converted, I never can be yours. I have scruples18 of conscience which cannot be overcome. I should not be happy if I felt there was a barrier between us which neither could pass. Better far we should never come together than be hereafter estranged19. I could not respect you—could not love you with my whole heart, if you continued a papist.”
“But I have said I may possibly be converted,” said Osbert.
“Your conversion20 must take place before our marriage,” rejoined Constance. “On that condition alone will I consent.”
“Well, then, commence the good work,” he said. “I promise to be a patient listener, and will strive to profit by your exhortations21.”
166Gladly she obeyed, and proceeded to employ the arguments which had proved so prevailing22 in her own case, and with every prospect23 of success, her influence over her hearer being unbounded.
But though this difficulty was overcome, another arose. Constance declared that her father’s sanction to her marriage was indispensable. In vain Osbert remonstrated24. She remained firm, and finding she could not be moved, he at last set out for Southampton, to see Master Tyrrell on the subject.
The old merchant was indisposed to listen to him. He was deeply offended with his daughter. He bewailed her apostacy, and declared he would neither receive her under his roof, nor hold any intercourse25 with her, so long as she entertained heretical opinions. If she returned, he should deliver her to the Queen, in fulfilment of his pledge. As a staunch Romanist, he could not conscientiously26 support a heretic, even though she were his own flesh and blood. Let Constance recant the religious opinions she had so imprudently adopted, and he would receive her with open arms. Till such time, she must not come near him. He concluded his tirade27 by refusing consent to the marriage.
Deeply disappointed at his want of success, Osbert returned to London. On seeking Constance’s place of shelter, he found to his surprise, that there was a guest in the house. This was Derrick Carver, who it will be remembered, disappeared from Southampton just before the order for his arrest arrived, and had escaped, as was supposed, to France. Instead of flying his country, however, Carver had proceeded along the coast to his native place, Brightelmstone, where he remained for a short time, but, fearing discovery, he removed to Lewes, and thence to London.
Being nearly destitute28, he had endured great hardship, and was driven almost to extremity29, when he accidentally met old Dorcas, who was purchasing provisions, and following her, made himself known, as soon as he could do so with safety. Touched by his miserable30 condition, the kind-hearted old dame31 took him home with her. He was joyfully32 received by Constance, and offered an asylum, which he gratefully accepted.
Such a guest, it will be easily conceived, was by no means 167agreeable to Osbert, and he would gladly have got rid of him, had it been possible. Carver’s presence introduced a new element of danger by increasing the chances of discovery, while his society had a very perceptible effect upon Constance’s spirits and manner. Before his arrival, she had quite regained33 her serenity34. But the sternness and austerity of the religious fanatic35 had cast a gloom over her, which could not be dispelled36. The greater part of her time was passed in prayer, in the perusal37 of godly books, or in listening to Carver’s exhortations.
Osbert was obliged to inform her that he had failed in obtaining her father’s consent, but he earnestly besought38 her to fulfil her promise, and make him happy by becoming his bride.
Before assenting39, she consulted Derrick Carver, who at once decided40 that under such circumstances the marriage could not take place. She must perforce wait. The enthusiast’s aim seemed to be to alienate41 her thoughts from things of this world, and wean her, as he said, from all carnal affections. No wonder Osbert regarded him with dislike.
But the unhappy lover had another and more serious cause of disquietude. He had trusted that distractions42 of various kinds would efface43 Constance’s image from the King’s breast. But he was deceived. Though constantly engaged in some little affair of gallantry, concerning which he made no secret to Osbert, Philip often spoke44 of her, and in terms showing that his passion was unabated. Osbert’s jealous rage at these confidences well-nigh caused him to betray himself, and his anger was not lessened45 when the King expressed his firm conviction that Constance must sooner or later fall into his power. Though Osbert deemed such a mischance improbable, the apprehension46 of it filled him with uneasiness.
One day Philip, who treated him with great familiarity, jestingly remarked:—
“So you have got some secret love affair on hand, I hear, and nightly visit your inamorata.”
“Who can have told your Majesty47 this absurd story?” rejoined Osbert, trying to hide his confusion by a laugh.
168“No matter how I learnt it,” said Philip. “Your manner convinces me it is true. But why should you be ashamed to confess the affair? Most of the young court gallants plume48 themselves upon their successes, and talk openly of them.”
“I am not one of those senseless boasters,” observed Osbert, gravely.
“Now, by my faith, you take the matter so seriously, that I am satisfied there is more in it than I supposed,” cried the King. “My curiosity is piqued49. I must know who has thus enslaved you. Does she belong to the city or the court?”
“Your Majesty will pardon me, but I cannot answer these questions.”
“As you please, Sir. I will press you no further. But take care. I shall find out the lady. Nothing escapes me, as you well know. Had you told me who she is, I should have been satisfied, but since you attempt concealment50, look to yourself—ha! ha!”
Though Philip laughed while saying this, there was a half-menace in his tone that increased Osbert’s alarm.
Apprehensive51 that his movements might be watched, Osbert refrained that night from his customary visit to Constance, but embarking52 as usual, instead of proceeding53 to Durham-place, crossed to the other side of the river. That he had acted wisely, was proved by the fact of another boat following him; and it soon became evident that he was watched. Next night he acted with like caution, but nothing occurred to excite his suspicions.
On the following night, therefore, he ventured to repair to Constance’s hiding-place. But, instead of proceeding thither by water, he took a circuitous54 route, so as to mislead those who watched him, if any such there were.
Constance, who had been extremely uneasy at his unwonted absence, was yet more alarmed when she learned the cause of it; but he succeeded in allaying55 her fears, by telling her he would speedily find her another and yet more secure asylum, where she would be free from all risk of molestation56.
“Methinks you magnify the peril,” observed Derrick Carver. “Howbeit, if Mistress Constance elects to quit this 169house, and seek another place of refuge, I will go with her. You may trust her to my care.”
“I am content to do so,” replied Osbert. “The danger is greater than you seem to imagine. After what has occurred, I do not think she can tarry longer in London; but by to-morrow night I will have arranged some definite plan, and, meantime, you must prepare for departure.”
“I am ready at any moment,” cried Constance. “Now—if you deem it expedient57.”
“Nay58, there is no such haste,” rejoined Osbert. “By flying without due preparation, you would incur59 yet greater risk. Two days hence you shall be in perfect safety.”
“Alas!” exclaimed Constance, “my mind misgives60 me, and I fear some dire61 calamity62 is in store for me.”
“If it be so, you must bear it with fortitude,” said Derrick Carver. “It has been my earnest endeavour to strengthen you for such an hour, and I trust my efforts have not been in vain, but that you may be equal to whatever trial you are subjected. Nay, even should you be called upon to attest63 your devotion to the Gospel by enduring fiery64 torments65, I am assured your courage will not forsake66 you, but that you will earn a crown of martyrdom.”
“Heaven, in its mercy, grant she may be spared any such terrible trial!” exclaimed Osbert, shuddering67.
“Rather than deny my faith, and return to that which I have abjured, I will suffer death in any shape,” said Constance, “even accompanied by the most cruel torments.”
“Your words fill me with joy, daughter,” rejoined Carver, “and prove that my teaching has not been thrown away. Thus prepared, you need have no fear.”
“I am resigned to whatever may happen,” said Constance.
“Self-preservation is as much a duty as any other,” said Osbert, “and ought not to be neglected. Though prepared for the worst, you must not expose yourself to needless risk.”
“I have said I am ready to depart whenever you may 170enjoin me to do so,” replied Constance, “and will go wheresoever you may direct.”
“I neither oppose her going, nor counsel her tarrying here,” said Derrick Carver. “Act as we may, Heaven’s designs will be fulfilled.”
After some further discourse68 to the like effect, Osbert took leave, promising69 to return at the same hour on the following night.
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1
situated
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| adj.坐落在...的，处于某种境地的 | |
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asylum
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| n.避难所，庇护所，避难 | |
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thither
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| adv.向那里；adj.在那边的，对岸的 | |
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hostel
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| n.（学生）宿舍，招待所 | |
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fully
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| adv.完全地，全部地，彻底地；充分地 | |
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forth
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| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
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retired
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| adj.隐退的，退休的，退役的 | |
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8
gratitude
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| adj.感激，感谢 | |
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ripen
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| vt.使成熟；vi.成熟 | |
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ardent
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| adj.热情的，热烈的，强烈的，烈性的 | |
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11
emboldened
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| v.鼓励，使有胆量( embolden的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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12
entreaties
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| n.恳求，乞求( entreaty的名词复数 ) | |
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frankly
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| adv.坦白地，直率地；坦率地说 | |
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creeds
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| （尤指宗教）信条，教条( creed的名词复数 ) | |
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15
abjured
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| v.发誓放弃( abjure的过去式和过去分词 )；郑重放弃（意见）；宣布撤回（声明等）；避免 | |
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16
hindrance
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| n.妨碍，障碍 | |
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fervently
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| adv.热烈地，热情地，强烈地 | |
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18
scruples
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| n.良心上的不安( scruple的名词复数 )；顾虑，顾忌v.感到于心不安，有顾忌( scruple的第三人称单数 ) | |
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19
estranged
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| adj.疏远的，分离的 | |
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conversion
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| n.转化，转换，转变 | |
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21
exhortations
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| n.敦促( exhortation的名词复数 )；极力推荐；（正式的）演讲；（宗教仪式中的）劝诫 | |
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22
prevailing
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| adj.盛行的；占优势的；主要的 | |
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23
prospect
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| n.前景，前途；景色，视野 | |
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24
remonstrated
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| v.抗议( remonstrate的过去式和过去分词 )；告诫 | |
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25
intercourse
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| n.性交；交流，交往，交际 | |
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conscientiously
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| adv.凭良心地；认真地，负责尽职地；老老实实 | |
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27
tirade
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| n.冗长的攻击性演说 | |
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28
destitute
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| adj.缺乏的；穷困的 | |
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extremity
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| n.末端，尽头；尽力；终极；极度 | |
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30
miserable
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| adj.悲惨的，痛苦的；可怜的，糟糕的 | |
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31
dame
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| n.女士 | |
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joyfully
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| adv. 喜悦地, 高兴地 | |
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33
regained
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| 复得( regain的过去式和过去分词 )； 赢回； 重回； 复至某地 | |
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34
serenity
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| n.宁静，沉着，晴朗 | |
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fanatic
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| n.狂热者，入迷者；adj.狂热入迷的 | |
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36
dispelled
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| v.驱散，赶跑( dispel的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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37
perusal
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| n.细读，熟读；目测 | |
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38
besought
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| v.恳求，乞求（某事物）( beseech的过去式和过去分词 )；(beseech的过去式与过去分词) | |
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39
assenting
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| 同意，赞成( assent的现在分词 ) | |
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40
decided
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| adj.决定了的，坚决的；明显的，明确的 | |
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41
alienate
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| vt.使疏远，离间；转让(财产等) | |
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42
distractions
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| n.使人分心的事[人]( distraction的名词复数 )；娱乐，消遣；心烦意乱；精神错乱 | |
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43
efface
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| v.擦掉，抹去 | |
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44
spoke
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| n.（车轮的）辐条；轮辐；破坏某人的计划；阻挠某人的行动 v.讲，谈（speak的过去式）；说；演说；从某种观点来说 | |
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45
lessened
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| 减少的，减弱的 | |
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46
apprehension
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| n.理解，领悟；逮捕，拘捕；忧虑 | |
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47
majesty
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| n.雄伟，壮丽，庄严，威严；最高权威，王权 | |
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48
plume
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| n.羽毛；v.整理羽毛，骚首弄姿，用羽毛装饰 | |
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49
piqued
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| v.伤害…的自尊心( pique的过去式和过去分词 )；激起（好奇心） | |
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50
concealment
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| n.隐藏, 掩盖，隐瞒 | |
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51
apprehensive
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| adj.担心的，恐惧的，善于领会的 | |
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52
embarking
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| 乘船( embark的现在分词 )； 装载； 从事 | |
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53
proceeding
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| n.行动，进行，(pl.)会议录，学报 | |
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54
circuitous
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| adj.迂回的路的，迂曲的，绕行的 | |
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55
allaying
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| v.减轻，缓和( allay的现在分词 ) | |
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56
molestation
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| n.骚扰，干扰，调戏；折磨 | |
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57
expedient
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| adj.有用的，有利的；n.紧急的办法，权宜之计 | |
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58
nay
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| adv.不；n.反对票，投反对票者 | |
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59
incur
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| vt.招致，蒙受，遭遇 | |
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60
misgives
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| v.使（某人的情绪、精神等）疑虑，担忧，害怕( misgive的第三人称单数 ) | |
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61
dire
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| adj.可怕的，悲惨的，阴惨的，极端的 | |
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62
calamity
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| n.灾害，祸患，不幸事件 | |
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63
attest
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| vt.证明，证实；表明 | |
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64
fiery
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| adj.燃烧着的，火红的；暴躁的；激烈的 | |
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65
torments
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| （肉体或精神上的）折磨，痛苦( torment的名词复数 )； 造成痛苦的事物[人] | |
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66
forsake
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| vt.遗弃，抛弃；舍弃，放弃 | |
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67
shuddering
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| v.战栗( shudder的现在分词 )；发抖；（机器、车辆等）突然震动；颤动 | |
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68
discourse
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| n.论文，演说；谈话；话语；vi.讲述，著述 | |
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69
promising
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| adj.有希望的，有前途的 | |
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