Pictures and the Picturegoer (Jan-Dec 1925)

36 Picture s end Pichjtv pver JANUARY 1925 Her cousin Malcolm was handsome; but here was one whose eyes laughed, whose mouth was kind; a man who was knowing and yet sympathetic, who took life bravely and yet with a laugh. The man, in short, that she would have bade the fairies bring to her, if she had been little again and still retained her faith in the little folk. And then of a sudden she was lowering her lashes and she knew herself to be blushing. She saw him flourish his sword gallantly and repeat his question. " Why — " and she got no further than that, but stopped and stared stared at his sword and the crest of his cousin's branch of the Vernon family engraven thereon. " That is the crest of the Malcolm Vernons !" she cried. And he replied : " It is that indeed." " You must be my cousin Malcolm, then, that I am betrothed to marry — my cousin that is back this very day from Italy?" " And if I may say so, fair lady, you seem very little unwilling." She blushed again. " I did not think you would be like that." " What did you imagine, then?" he asked. " Come, now — a dragon?" " Before the reality I scarce remember. You have driven away and I am willing." They walked down the paths of the rosary, arm in arm, talking of birds and the roses and the sunset and the far lands that he had seen. And then when the sun was dipping and he vowed he must be upon his way, he flourished again his sword, took off his feathered hat and bowed low. " I may see you again, and perhaps your father, Sir George?" he asked. " Why, when we are to marry within the month, cousin Malcolm — " "Hair lady," said the young man, "I can no longer deceive you. I won this sword in fair combat with a young man I cannot like, a mile down yonder road. He sits now, I believe, in a ditch. The arms are not mine, but his, and he must be Sir Malcolm Vernon. As for myself, I am Sir John Manners, son of the Earl of Rutland, and if—" She flushed and her brows met in a tiny and beautiful frown. " Rutland I" she cried. " Son of the Earl? Then you must know, unless you have been in hiding these many years, of the feud that exists between my family and yours. The Vernons and the Rutlands hate and must hate to the end of time. Go ! Your deception was as mean and paltry as it was base. Never more do I wish to see you. I am away this moment to warn my father and rouse the guard. If you care to save your Rutland skin, save it now, for time is short !" She turned and left him hurriedly, and when her father learnt of her story he at once sent the guard out into the woods to bring the miscreant to book. " Dead or alive," he commanded, " but dead for preference." " // you care a cloud and — to save your Rutland sum, save it now for time is short !" He swerved round in his ponderous way to bid his daughter exercise care in her encounters, but his daughter was gone already from his side. Gone to her room, to dream if not to sleep — to dream of one she had sworn never to see again, the finest man that her pretty eyes had ever seen; the son of their ancient enemy the Earl of Rutland. To dream of him, and to think, at long and rare intervals, of that other whom she was so soon to marry — that other who lost his sword to a better man and took his seat in a ditch. " I wonder. . ." she mused. Though what she wondered she could not express in words. Days of plot and counter-plot were those. Spacious days — days of life full-lived; but days of intrigue too. Though Elizabeth sat the throne, it was none too secure. Far to the North was Mary, Queen of the Scots, ever watching, ever waiting; with her faithful henchmen in Elizabeth's realm, ready to do her bidding, to give their lives for her, when the moment should come. One such was the Duke of Norfolk, and the Duke had no stouter aide than Sir Malcolm Vernon. Very soon, if their plans carried, Elizabeth would be deposed and Mary of Scots in her place on the throne. And their plans bade fair to carry, for they were stout plans, of strong foundation. The approaching marriage of Sir Malcolm to his neighbour and cousin Dorothy Vernon of Haddon Hall, would provide a very excellent opportunity to bring the English Queen into the neighbourhood. Only a shelter near by was needed to hold Mary in safety until the moment of disclosure, and then at one sweep the proclamation of Mary as England's queen and the assassination of Elizabeth could be a c c o m plished. " But where," the old Duke asked of his younger plotter, " where can Mary hide until the moment for coming forward?" • Sir Malcolm laughed. "Why not Rutland Castle?" he asked, " It is but a stone's throw from Haddon Hall." "But the Earl is one of Elizabeth's men." " Listen. We can persuade the old man, who is a poor fool at best, that Mary's residence there is for Elizabeth's good. We will say that Mary awaits her passport to France, and that as soon as Elizabeth comes north for the wedding and grants this, she will renounce all claim to the throne and leave the country for ever." " If you can arrange this — ?" " Leave that to me." A nd it was arranged — so well arranged ^^ that young Sir John Manners was even persuaded into journeying to Lochleven Castle and escorting Mary south to Rutland Castle. The journey was made in easy stages after nighttall, and none but a handful knew that the hated Mary Queen of Scots was in England, and in that Loyalist heart of England. Rutland Castle. Meantime, preparations for the marriage proceeded apace. But though the day grew ever nearer and heralds had brought news of the Queen's approach for the festivities, Dorothy Vernon persisted in her refusal to see her betrothed. " I can never marry him, for I can never like him. Oh, that I might die and be from this world of trouble," she cried.