The Buccaneer - A Tale

"Displeased!" interrupted the Lady Frances, who had kept silence

marvellously long; "oh! no, it is not in man to be displeased with the

devotedness, the love of woman----"

"I prithee, peace," interrupted Constance in her turn: for the word

'love' had called the flush into her pale cheek; "thou art ever placing

earth on a level with heaven."

"And thou, my saintly friend, wouldst bring heaven down to earth. I

remember my sister Claypole treating of this before, saying that Milton

laid his fingers on thy forehead, and that thou didst clip off the

particular ringlet pressed by them, and enshrine it in a jewelled

cross."

"I confess----"

"To the folly of despoiling thy tresses?"

"Dearest Frances, you are cruel in your gaiety. How I watched his

retreating footsteps as he passed under the archway, after bidding us

good night! His gait was measured, but, though his sight was so

impaired, I observed that his head was thrown upward, and that he walked

as one having no fear."

"Well, give me Milton in the morn, but the gay Lovelace when the

twilight shades come down. I know a fair gentleman who sings his ballads

most sweetly. You, too, had you heard him, would have listened a second

tune:-'True, a new mistress now I chase,

The first foe in the field,

And with a stronger faith embrace

A sword--a horse--a shield.

'Yet this inconstancy is such

As you, too, shall adore--

I could not love thee, dear, so much,

Loved I not honour more!' But I forget, the theme is a forbidden one; and I see, Constance, you do

not like my poet, and I have a mind not to admire yours! Ah! poor

Lovelace! he might have been my laureate."

"I thought the Lady Frances sighed no longer for a thorny crown."

"I may surely love the poetry of a Cavalier without wishing to be the

bride of Prince Charlie. My father's fiat has gone forth against my

royal lover's offer, and so I shall be the wife of some staid sober

Covenanter, I suppose; that is, if I follow my father's wishes, and

marry Will Dulton."

"Better than be the wedded mistress of a dissolute man," said Constance,

firmly. "Believe me, Charles Stuart has all his father's weakness

without his father's virtues."

"Well, be it so," replied Frances Cromwell: "I did not care; but

methinks I should have liked the garniture of a crown and the grasp of a

sceptre. You should have been my first maid of honour.--But your pardon,

lady fair--you will be the first married, if I can judge from Sir

Willmott Burrell's earnestness of late." As she spoke, Constance Cecil

grew deadly pale; and, to conceal her emotion, sat upon the step of the

Gothic temple before which they had been standing for some minutes.

Frances did not observe the change, but heedlessly continued:--"Ah! it

is happy for those who can marry as they will, and him they love; to

whom the odious Sound of 'state necessity' is utterly unknown."