"'Tis working for that rogue Copeland," he growled. "I would it were
for you, my sweet lady."
"It is working for me! Think so with all your heart, good Cuthbert."
"Well, end as it may, you will at least ken who and what you are, wed
or unwed, fish, flesh or good red herring, and cease to live
nameless, like the Poticary's serving-woman," concluded Ridley as his
parting grumble.
CHAPTER XXX--THE WEDDING CHIMES
Low at times and loud at times,
Changing like a poet's rhymes,
Rang the beautiful wild chimes,
From the belfry in the market
Of the ancient town of Bruges.
LONGFELLOW, The Carillon.
No more was heard of the Duchess for some weeks. Leonard was absent
with the Duke, who was engaged in that unhappy affair of Peroune and
Liege, the romantic version of which may be read in Quentin Durward,
and with which the present tale dares not to meddle, though it seemed
to blast the life of Charles the Bold, all unknowing.
The Duchess Margaret was youthful enough to have a strong taste for
effect, and it was after a long and vexatious delay that Grisell was
suddenly summoned to her presence, to be escorted by Master Groot.
There she sat, on her chair of state, with the high tapestried back
and the square canopy, and in the throng of gentlemen around her
Grisell at a glance recognised Sir Leonard, and likewise Cuthbert
Ridley and Harry Featherstone, though of course it was not etiquette
to exchange any greetings.
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