"Nay, then our master shall hear of it," said the keeper; "an thou encouragest those who lurch upon his grounds, the sword must settle it."
"'Tis with thy master I will settle it, thou arrant knave," said Sir Hugh; "I talk not with such caitiffs."
"And yet dost thou take up with yonder son of a trader in Stratford town," said the fellow, with a sneer. "'Want of company,' saith the proverb. Eh?"
"Hark ye, sirrah!" said young Shakespeare (like lightning seizing the keeper by the green frock, and forcing him up to the dead horse), "trader or noble, I warn thee to put no further affront upon me before this fair company; for, by the hand that brained yon steed, I can as easily teach thee as awful a lesson. Begone!" he continued. "I am alike ready to meet thee on thine own or other grounds, singly or together, with quarter-staff, or rapier and target."
The man looked cowed, he glanced towards his comrade, and both disappeared.
CHAPTER IV.
THE FAMILY OF THE CLOPTONS.
To Charlotte Clopton the introduction of the stranger youth, the relation her cousin gave of his opportune appearance, and the ready manner in which he had rescued her, seemed like some dream.
Indeed, under circumstances such as she now for the first time beheld the youthful poet, he was scarcely to be regarded, we opine, by a lady's eye with impunity.
Rendered insensible, as we have seen, by her severe fall, on recovery she found herself almost miraculously saved from a dreadful death. Whilst he who had rescued her, appeared to have come to her assistance "like some descended god."
"Who ever loved, that loved not at first sight?" The heart of Charlotte was from that moment hopelessly, irrecoverably, lost.
The family of the Cloptons was of ancient descent. Sir Hugh was a widower, having no other offspring but the daughter we have already introduced to our readers. Of suitors doubtless the fair Charlotte might have had plenty and to spare; for, when broad lands are coupled with exceeding beauty,
"From the four corners of the earth they come
To kiss the shrine."
Sir Hugh had, however, made election for his daughter, of one who had been her companion from childhood, a cousin of her own, Walter Arderne. This young man, who was now about two and twenty years of age, absolutely doated on his affianced bride. His fortune was ample, and the woods of Arderne could be seen from the grounds of Clopton. Added to this he was extremely handsome, of a most amiable and generous disposition, brave as the steel he wore, and "complete in all good grace to grace a gentleman."
And yet withal, although Charlotte loved him as a brother, esteemed him as a friend, and had been taught to regard him as her future husband, to entertain any more tender feelings towards him she found impossible.
Still, Walter Arderne being thus the constant companion, the affianced husband of Charlotte, although numerous other cavaliers saw, and seeing, admired, their brief bow was soon made. They saw—they were smitten by the blind bow-boy—but they felt that the prize was appropriated worthily and withdrew.
Few men, indeed, were more worthy of a lady's eye than Walter Arderne. Gentle, generous, and frank, as we have before described him—rich and handsome withal—it seems scarcely possible that his fair cousin could fail in returning the strong love he felt for her. Yet so it was, and whether this love "chosen by another's eye" was distasteful to her, or that she thought the near relationship any bar to a more tender feeling, it is certain the very thought of her betrothment was disagreeable. Still Walter had been her friend, her companion, and her champion from childhood's hour, and under his fostering care and tuition she had become a sort of Dian of the woods and groves. Dearly did she love the bounding steed and the chase: the wild, the wold, the hawk, and the free air.
Her father's wishes also were law to her, and as she found it would be a terrible disappointment to him were she to own her dislike to a marriage with her cousin, she had suffered the engagement to remain unchallenged.
For centuries the Cloptons had seemed a doomed race; as if some ban was upon them they had been strangely unlucky by flood and field. Gentle by birth, noble in spirit, and in the enjoyment of all the world could give, they seemed doomed to be unfortunate. There was even a melancholy about the old hall itself consequent upon the mishaps and disasters that appeared the hereditary portion of the family. The sons were brave, their banner ever in the van, but they fell early in the fight. The daughters were chaste as they were beautiful, but an early grave had almost always closed over them. Nay, the villagers called the old manor-house the house of mourning, so invariably had most of its numerous occupants been swept off. An old legend (they affirmed) proclaimed this near extinction of the line of Clopton, and that the hall would be unlucky whilst their race continued its owners.
The brave old knight, gentle and even-tempered as he was, and whom on ordinary provocation it was difficult to anger, was peculiarly sensitive on this subject. Any allusion to the wild legend from a servitor, or rustic on his estate, would be sure to be followed by displeasure or dismissal; whilst mention of it from one in his own rank would have been considered equivalent to an invitation to the dark walk at the end of the pleasance, armed with rapier and dagger.
Sir Hugh had beheld his children fade away, apparently of hereditary disease, one after another in their early youth; all except the beautiful Charlotte, the pledge of a second marriage, and whose mother had died soon after giving birth to this their only child, and he was in consequence tremblingly alive to the slightest alarm of accident or illness. It was under such circumstances that Sir Hugh, in accepting the guardianship of his nephew, had learned to look upon the well-favoured Walter almost with the eye of a parent, and had set his heart upon a marriage between him and his lovely child.
Under such circumstances, too, had young Shakespeare performed the piece of service we have described—a service beyond reward (as the old knight worded it), beyond aught he had to bestow; and it was under such circumstances that the youth became an occasional visitor at Clopton Hall, where he was admitted on an equality with the inmates, and received in a manner perhaps no other circumstances would have been likely to lead to.
The line drawn between persons of different condition in life was then more strictly kept, and more accurately defined than in our own day. But the good sense of Sir Hugh led him to appreciate superior attainments wherever they were to be found. The ignorance of youth proceeded, he thought, from idleness; the continuance of ignorance in manhood from pride—the pride which is less ashamed of being ignorant than of seeking instruction. At Clopton, therefore, men of worth were received, even though of low estate.
CHAPTER V.
A DOMESTIC PARTY IN ELIZABETH'S DAY.
On the evening of the day on which the accident had happened to Charlotte Clopton, that lady, together with her father, her cousin Walter, and young Shakespeare, were assembled in an ample apartment at Clopton Hall, situate on the ground floor, the windows looking out upon the lovely pleasure-grounds in the rear of the building. The youth had spent the entire day at the hall, and in the society of those to whom he had rendered so great a service.
Indeed any person (albeit he might