"What ails my brother Bernard?" then asked Grisell anxiously.
"The saints may know, but no man does, unless it was that Crooked Nan of Strait Glen overlooked the poor child," returned the esquire. "Ever since he fell into the red beck he hath done nought but peak and pine, and be twisted with cramps and aches, with sores breaking out on him; though there's a honeycomb-stone from Roker over his bed. My lord took out all the retainers to lay hold on Crooked Nan, but she got scent of it no doubt, for Jack of Burhill took his oath that he had seen a muckle hare run up the glen that morn, and when we got there she was not to be seen or heard of. We have heard of her in the Gilsland ground, where they would all the sooner see a the young lad of Whitburn crippled and a mere misery to see or hear."
Grisell was quite as ready to believe in witchcraft as was the old squire, and to tremble at their capacities for mischief. She asked what nunneries were near, and was disappointed to find nothing within easy reach. St. Cuthbert's diocese had not greatly favoured womankind, and Whitby was far away.
By and by her father came back, the thundering tramp of the horses being heard in time enough for her to spring up and be mounted again before he came in sight, the yeomen carrying the antlers and best portions of the deer.
"Left out, my wench," he shouted. "We must mount you better. Ho! Cuthbert, thou a squire of dames? Ha! Ha!"
"The maid could not be left to lose herself on the fells," muttered the squire, rather ashamed of his courtesy.
"She must get rid of nunnery breeding. We want no trim and dainty lassies here," growled her father. "Look you, Ridley, that horse of Hob's-" and the rest was lost in a discussion on horseflesh.
Long rides, which almost exhausted Grisell, and halts in exceedingly uncomfortable hostels, where she could hardly obtain tolerable seclusion, brought her at last within reach of home. There was a tall church tower and some wretched hovels round it. The Lord of Whitburn halted, and blew his bugle with the peculiar note that signified his own return, then all rode down to the old peel, the outline of which Grisell saw with a sense of remembrance, against the gray sea-line, with the little breaking, glancing waves, which she now knew herself to have unconsciously wanted and missed for years past.
Whitburn Tower stood on the south side, on a steep cliff overlooking the sea. The peel tower itself looked high and strong, but to Grisell, accustomed to the widespread courts of the great castles and abbeys of the south, the circuit of outbuildings seemed very narrow and cramped, for truly there was need to have no more walls than could be helped for the few defenders to guard.
All was open now, and under the arched gateway, with the portcullis over her head, fitly framing her, stood the tall, gaunt figure of the lady, grayer, thinner, more haggard than when Grisell had last seen her, and beside her, leaning on a crutch, a white-faced boy, small and stunted for six years old.
"Ha, dame! Ha, Bernard; how goes it?" shouted the Baron in his gruff, hoarse voice.
"He willed to come down to greet you, though he cannot hold your stirrup," said the mother. "You are soon returned. Is all well with Rob?"
"O aye, I found Thorslan of Danby and a plump of spears on the way to the Duke of York at Windsor. They say he will need all his following if the Beauforts put it about that the King has recovered as much wit as ever he had. So I e'en sent Rob on with him, and came back so as to be ready in case there's a call for me. Soh! Berney; on thy feet again? That's well, my lad; but we'll have thee up the steps."
He seemed quite to have forgotten the presence of Grisell, and it was Cuthbert Ridley who helped her off her horse, but just then little Bernard in his father's arms exclaimed
"Black nun woman!"
"By St. Cuthbert!" cried the Baron, "I mind me! Here, wench! I have brought back the maid in her brother's stead."
And as Grisell, in obedience to his call, threw back her veil, Bernard screamed, "Ugsome wench, send her away!" threw his arms round his father's neck and hid his face with a babyish gesture.
"Saints have mercy!" cried the mother, "thou hast not mended much since I saw thee last. They that marred thee had best have kept thee. Whatever shall we do with the maid?"
"Send her away, the loathly thing," reiterated the boy, lifting up his head from his father's shoulder for another glimpse, which produced a puckering of the face in readiness for crying.
"Nay, nay, Bernard," said Ridley, feeling for the poor girl and speaking up for her when no one else would. "She is your sister, and you must be a fond brother to her, for an ill-nurtured lad spoilt her poor face when it was as fair as your own. Kiss your sister like a good lad, and-
"No! no!" shouted Bernard. "Take her away. I hate her." He began to cry and kick.
"Get out of his sight as fast as may be," commanded the mother, alarmed by her sickly darling's paroxysm of passion.
Grisell, scarce knowing where to go, could only allow herself to be led away by Ridley, who, seeing her tears, tried to comfort her in his rough way. "'Tis the petted bairn's way, you see, mistress-and my lady has no thought save for him. He will get over it soon enough when he learns your gentle convent-bred conditions."
Still the cry of "Grisly Grisell," picked up as if by instinct or by some echo from the rear of the escort, rang in her ears in the angry fretful voice of the poor little creature towards whom her heart was yearning. Even the two women-servants there were, no more looked at her askance, as they took her to a seat in the hall, and consulted where my lady would have her bestowed. She was wiping away bitter tears as she heard her only friend Cuthbert settle the matter. "The chamber within the solar is the place for the noble damsels."
"That is full of old armour, and dried herrings, and stockfish."
"Move them then! A fair greeting to give to my lord's daughter."
There was some further muttering about a bed, and Grisell sprang up. "Oh, hush! hush! I can sleep on a cloak; I have done so for many nights. Only let me be no burthen. Show me where I can go to be an anchoress, since they will not have me in a convent or anywhere," and bitterly she wept.
"Peace, peace, lady," said the squire kindly. "I will deal with these ill-tongued lasses. Shame on them! Go off, and make the chamber ready, or I'll find a scourge for you. And as to my lady-she is wrapped up in the sick bairn, but she has only to get used to you to be friendly enough."
"O what a hope in a mother," thought poor Grisell. "O that I were at Wilton or some nunnery, where my looks would be pardoned! Mother Avice, dear mother, what wouldst thou say to me now!"
The peel tower had been the original building, and was still as it were the citadel, but below had been built the very strong but narrow castle court, containing the stables and the well, and likewise the hall and kitchen-which were the dwelling and sleeping places of the men of the household, excepting Cuthbert Ridley, who being of gentle blood, would sit above the salt, and had his quarters with Rob when at home in the tower. The solar was a room above the hall, where was the great box-bed of the lord and lady, and a little bed for Bernard.
Entered through it, in a small turret, was a chamber designed for the daughters and maids, and this was rightly appropriated by Ridley to the Lady Grisell. The two women-servants-Bell and Madge-were wives to the cook and the castle smith, so the place had been disused and made a receptacle for drying fish, fruit, and the like. Thus the sudden call for its use provoked a storm of murmurs in no gentle voices, and Grisell shrank into a corner of the hall, only wishing she could efface herself.
And as she looked out on the sea from her narrow window, it seemed to her dismally gray, moaning, restless, and dreary.
CHAPTER X-COLD WELCOME
Seek not for others to love you,