where constance found a place of refuge.
an old habitation situated 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 asylum. thither she had been brought, after remaining a few days in a little hostel 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 fully employed either in her devotions, in reading, or in some feminine occupation. she never ventured forth 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 retired sadly.
under such circumstances, it will not appear surprising that the gratitude felt by the damsel for her preserver should ripen into a warmer feeling. after the first ardent declaration of his passion made to her, osbert refrained for a while from renewing his suit; but at length, emboldened 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 entreaties 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 frankly 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 creeds are different. i have abjured the errors and idolatries of rome, while you still cling to them.”
“granted,” replied osbert; “but this need be no hindrance 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, fervently. “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 scruples 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 estranged. 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 conversion 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 exhortations.”
166gladly she obeyed, and proceeded to employ the arguments which had proved so prevailing in her own case, and with every prospect 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 remonstrated. 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 intercourse 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 conscientiously 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 tirade 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 destitute, he had endured great hardship, and was driven almost to extremity, 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 miserable condition, the kind-hearted old dame took him home with her. he was joyfully 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 regained her serenity. but the sternness and austerity of the religious fanatic had cast a gloom over her, which could not be dispelled. the greater part of her time was passed in prayer, in the perusal 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 besought her to fulfil her promise, and make him happy by becoming his bride.
before assenting, she consulted derrick carver, who at once decided that under such circumstances the marriage could not take place. she must perforce wait. the enthusiast’s aim seemed to be to alienate 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 distractions of various kinds would efface 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 spoke 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 lessened 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 apprehension 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 majesty 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 plume 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 piqued. 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 concealment, look to yourself—ha! ha!”
though philip laughed while saying this, there was a half-menace in his tone that increased osbert’s alarm.
apprehensive that his movements might be watched, osbert refrained that night from his customary visit to constance, but embarking as usual, instead of proceeding 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 circuitous 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 allaying 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 molestation.
“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 expedient.”
“nay, there is no such haste,” rejoined osbert. “by flying without due preparation, you would incur yet greater risk. two days hence you shall be in perfect safety.”
“alas!” exclaimed constance, “my mind misgives me, and i fear some dire calamity 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 attest your devotion to the gospel by enduring fiery torments, i am assured your courage will not forsake 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, shuddering.
“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 discourse to the like effect, osbert took leave, promising to return at the same hour on the following night.
