CHAPTER XXXVII

THE ARRIVAL.

It was in the evening of that memorable day when Wolsey had sat long in state at Westminster, and had been detained by causes which he was anxious, whilst he had the seals, to see concluded, that Cavendish conducted the prisoner, as De Freston really was, to York Place.

He had sent one of his master's servants to apprise Wolsey's chamberlain, and master of ceremonies, and household servants, of the expected arrival of guests of distinction; but who they were to be, and how many, he had not revealed. He was ignorant himself; but, from his taking twelve of his master's men, with mules and sumpter mules, it, was evident he expected rather a cavalcade and procession, than merely to have to conduct an old man, his daughter, and her husband.

All Wolsey's household had been upon the '_qui vive_,' and were, no doubt, as great men's servants frequently are, disappointed at no great state arrivals, when they saw so small a party approaching.

They were ushered, with quiet gentleness, into the great reception-hall, where one of the strangest adventures--as unexpected as unwished-for--presented itself to view. There stood, full in her sight, as Ellen entered the Alice De Clinton, together with two female attendants near her.

What a picture did these females then present to view. Had not the description been given from ocular demonstration, imagination could not have depicted the surprise.

Neither Alice nor Ellen had seen each other, and heard but little of one another, for years. They had been friends in their early days. One, at least, had been a warm-hearted one. Both had been intimate; but there stood Alice to receive Ellen in the Cardinal's house at York Place; and there entered Ellen, Lord De Freston, and Latimer into the presence of one who had left upon their memories a chilling impression of hauteur, which formerly disgusted them, and did not, at that moment, allow of any softening sensation for better impression.

Of all conjunctions, of all positions in which persons are unexpectedly placed, the memory of rivalship, in which personal dislike more than any honest contention or provocation had been the cause of disunion, is the most difficult feeling to disperse.

Surprise was for the moment the expression of every face. Even Ellen's confessed it, and there was nothing pleasurable in the meeting. As to Alice, if an apparition had risen out of the earth, she could not have been more petrified with astonishment. Her cold, dark eye, wide open, and fixed upon Ellen, told, by its intensely rivetted stare, that it saw too much--more than it could bear; and yet it dwelt with hard, cruel, inquisitive firmness on the party before it.

Is it possible to meet a person who hates you--literally hates you even unto death, and makes you know it by the very contempt of the eye--and not to feel a shudder at the enormity of hatred?

Here stood, confronted in the forms of female self-possession, the dignity of the highest worldly pride, and the dignity of true humility. The one conscious of being introduced to the other by the very power to which alone that other had been known to bend.

Here was Alice De Clinton, the proudest spirit that ever daughter of Eve possessed, and Ellen Latimer, at once the meekest and humblest, but, at the same time, the most faithful spirit, conscious of duty and love, met to confront each other by the order of the Cardinal, who, at the time he gave the invitation, was so engrossed with the affairs of his declining grandeur, that he forgot the opposing powers meeting in his mansion.

'Coming events cast their shadows before them.' The downfall of the favorite was precipitate enough; but the downfall of a portion of his domestic arrangements preceded it. The Cardinal had no motive in his heart but that which softened pride is apt to feel when it sees greatness fallen before it. Wolsey saw only Lord De Freston in distress, and his lovely daughter, the early companion of his youthful day, appealing to him for help.

Through the vista of years gone by, he had never forgotten, though ambition had diverted his mind, the learned Ellen and Freston Tower; and though those years had, as an early dream, visited him with pleasure and with pain, yet they recurred to him now, in his decline, with a degree of softness and tenderness which positively subdued the grand and lofty-minded man from ambition to affection.

That can scarcely be called a subduing. It ought to be named an exaltation; but the world, which judged then, as now, that human weakness displayed in a great man is worthy of condemnation, did not spare the declaration that the mighty Cardinal had lost his mind.

He was, indeed, greatly affected by the arrival of these early friends at such a time, and the abstruse decisions of the law were then most irksome. He determined, however, to see all cases somehow or other decided which could be brought before him, and he remained a longer time than usual upon his judgment seat.

Time enough, indeed, to let the ladies see each other, and become acquainted before he should return.

The haughty Alice De Clinton had grown more proud, more portly, more stately, since she had consented to abide with the Cardinal, than she was while under the roof of the Bishop of Norwich. Report had stated that the Cardinal, in seeking to get her made Abbess of Winton Priory, had private motives of self-gratification therein, and the ear of royalty had been so whispered into, as well as advertised thereof loudly, that Henry's letter to the Cardinal upon that subject still exists, and certainly was the occasion of her not being appointed to that situation which no one was better fitted to fill than such a cold, heartless, stern, unnatural, and superstitious woman as Alice De Clinton.

De Freston and his daughter had been infected with the report before they stood confronted with the lady herself; so that it did not add to their comfort when they saw her in the position of domestic hostess in York Place.

They were relieved, however, from her presence by one of those haughty departures, which, in her early years, she had shown to the guests of Goldwell. She could not fail to recognise De Freston, Latimer, and Ellen; but her mind was made up in a moment, namely, that York Place should not hold her and her rival at the same time.

Turning to Cavendish, she promptly asked--

'Did your master know who they were he had ordered you to conduct hither?'

'He did, lady, but I did not.'

'How long will it be before the Cardinal returns?'

'I cannot tell, my lady.'

'Then be pleased, sir, to tell me when he does return. Dames, show that lady to the apartments prepared for her, and then wait upon me. Cavendish, remember your duty.'

The haughty lady glided from the hall without one word of charity, or look of kindness, or even an intimation of respect for any one of the party.

Her pride, however, could injure no one but herself. She retired, a specimen of fallen Lucifer's dignity, whilst Ellen retired humbled to the dust by the exhibition of such an unwarrantable indignity.

A few minutes' prayer restored the disturbed mind of the latter, and as she was fatigued and overcome by the circumstances which then crowded upon her, she requested the femme-de-chambre to let the Cardinal know that she was not equal to the ceremony of introduction to him till the morrow. She wished to be conducted to her father's apartment before she retired.

It need not be stated what a sweet hour of communion those dear souls had, even in that place. Oh! how calm is true piety: and what a disturbed, restless being is man without it. The dear friends who talked of their then singular position, spake but little of the haughty Alice. The little they did speak was spoken in charity, and without any bitterness, saving only of regret for her sake. They parted, praying for blessings upon each other.

What a position was it for all parties! It was the very climax of circumstances, and of what it was to be productive none could divine.