IMAGE EVALUATION TEST TARGET (MT-3) 7 / O {/ fe'x 4?- Q< % w. '/ ^ w:/. ^'"/, 1.0 I.I 1.25 j5 5 III— 112 12.5 122 ■' IM ^ m. Ill 2.0 11= U ill 1.6 V] <^ /^ VI %i 'm i. fW ^ ^^ o /a //a ^'^W W 7 Photographic Sciences Corporation # V <^ \\ s^^>> .^ € ;v O^ V ■<> %^ e seat of the disease. To cure catarrh you must reach the root of tlie disease and remove the ori^iual cause of the trouble. NaJSAL BALM is the only remedy yet di>-cuverLd that will do tiiis. Jt never fail.;, and in even tlv3 most aggravated cases a cure is certain if NASAL BAL'M isperi^ihUontly used. It is a well-known fact- that cutuirh in ninety nine c;i^ts out of every hundred originated from a cold in the hcud, which the eufFcnr ne,i;lected. NAiSxVL BALM affords imracdir.te relief wluu u^cd for cold in the head. It is easy to use, requiring no douche or instrument, and is soothing, cleansing and healins,'. As positive evidence that catarrh can be cured by the use of NASAL BAIjM, we submit the fol- lowing testimonials from among hundreds similar in our possession :— Mr. Horatio Collier, Woollen Manu- facturer, Ciineroatown, Out., stale-^ : Nasai Balm is the only pjsitive remedy for catarrh that I ever used. Miss Addie Hovvlson, Brockville, Ont, says: I had catarrli loi years, my head was so stopped up I could not breathe through my nosiril-^. My breath, was very impure and continually so. Noth- inf» I could get gave nie any relief until using Nasal Balm. From the very first it gave me relief and in a very short time had removed the accumulation so that I could breathe freely throu'.;h the nostrils. Its effect on my breath was truly wonderful, purifyin;; and removing every vestige of the unpleasant odoi', which never returned. D, S. McDonald, Mabou, C.B. writes : Na?al Balm has helped my catarrh very much T. • .,- . used. P. H. Munro, Parry Sound, say^ :— Nasal Bal.a has no equ.il a-; a remedy fur cold in the head. Jt is both speedy and effective in its results. Mr. John Foster, Raymond, Ont., writes: Nasal Balm acts like a charm for injr catarih. I have only use>l it a short time a'ui now feel better than at any period durin;^ the last seven years. 1)1 tact I am sure of a cure and at very smail expense. D. Derbyshire, president of the Onta- rio Creamery Association, says : Nasal Ba'in beats the world ft)r catarrh and CO (I in the he.id. In my own case it eifected reLef from the firat appucation. Mr. John R. Wri,t;ht, representinr;: Messrs. Evans, Sons and Mason, whole- sale drugt^ists, Montreal, says: — Nasal B ilin cured me of a lon^' standing c isa It is the best remedy i ever of catarrh afier many other remedies faiiin^'. BEWARE of IIVlITAT10NS.^^alSd"'E; NASAL BALM from its wonderful curative properties has induced certain un- scrupulous parties to place imitations on s-ale, closely resemblin.,' the styie of our package, and with names similar in sound. Beware of all preparations styled Nasal Cream, Nasal Balsam, etc., they are IrauduJeat imitations. Ask for Nasal Balm and see that you get it. Ifyou cannot obtain NASAL BALM from your dealer it will be sent post-paid •n receipt of price, 50 cents and $1, by addressing, FULFORD & CO., BROCKVILLE, ONT, Our pamj.hlet " Gems or Wispom " s^ot free on applicatiop. "^ ■f'' u JJ AND '^^^^^i^^s6&'S£,^sms^ In Tone In Touch In Sweetness In Durability In Workmanship Holds more Gold Medals and Awards than any other Piano in Canada. WARRANTED IN EVERY RESPEOT. Five Years' Guarantee with Each Instru- LOWEST PRICES. ment. Sole -A-gency EASY TERMS. Toronto Temple of Music J. S. POWLEY & CO. 68 Kinff St. W. Toronto, Cnt. I f I, mmmm I i THE QUEEN'S TOKEN BY MES. CASHEL HOEY. AUTHOft OP "GRIFFITH'S DOUBLE," "A GOLDEN SORKOW," "THE BLOSSOMING 0.V AN ALOB," "THE lover's CREED," "A STERN CHAbE,'' «« XHE QUESTION OF CAIN," ETC. Entered according to the Act of the Parliament of Cannda in the year one thoneand eit^ht hiiiidred and eiphty-uine, by William lii'.ycE, in tlie office of the Minister of Agriculture. TORONTO : W^^LIAM BBYCE, PUBLISHER ,: .1 IVOR AR SOAP. EFFECTIVE, DURAELE 6:. CHEAP Ivory Bar Soap i« superior to imported C:a?/bil9. Use Ivory Bar fc3oap for line laundry work. Wash infants' cloths with Ivoiy Bar Soop. Use Ivory Bar boap for bathing*. Ivory Bar Soap is dehghtfully perfumed. Use Ivory Bar r:oap lor shaving. Ivory Bar Soap is a luxury, though very cheap. Ciean painted wails with Ivory Bar Soap. Ivory Bar boap lathers freely.' Take home some I\ory Bar Soap. Clean your teeth with I\ory Bar Soap. Ivory Bar Soap pleases everybody. Ivory Bar boap does not chap the hands. Ivory Bar Soap answers every purpose. Ivory Bar Soap the best of all lor Mechanics' use. Wash your baby with Ivoiy Bar Soai:). Wash yourself with Ivory Bar Soap. Shampoo with Iv' ry Ear Soap. Ivory Bar Soap will Clean anything. Ivory Bar Soap will not injure anything. Wash linen lawns w^ith lyory Bar Soap. Wash your hair with Ivory Ear Soap. Clean painted wood with Ivcry Bar Scsp. Wash furnituro with Ivory Ear Soap. Wash your hands with Ivory Ear I: cap. Clean silverware with Ivory Ear Soap. Ivory Bar Soap is healing- in its efiect. Remove grease spots with Ivory Ear boap. Ivory Bar Soap improves the complexion. Experts pronounce Ivory Bar Soap unequalled, Bathe with Ivory Bar Soap, it is luxurious and refreshing. You get Ivory Bar Soap in pound, two pound sin ^ ounce, and three poand bars, cut it up any size to suit yourselves. ASK YOUR GROCER FOR IT. Manufactured at the BRANTFORD *** SOAP a WORKS A. WATTS & CO., Brantfprd, « - « Ontario, Canada L C O N T E N T S. I- L I CHAPTER I. PAGE THE ABBEY 1 CHAPTEK II. THE CONFERENCE 15 CHAPTER III. THE TOKEN 44 CHAPTER IV. GEMMA 67 CHAPTER V. BLANCHE 9- CHAPTER VI. **THE FATAL JEWEL" 105 CHAPTER VII. KILFEREAN llG CHAPTER VIII. CYPRTAN's TRUST .. 132 Dr« Morse's Indian Root Pills. Dr. Morse's Indian Root Pills. Dr. Morse's Indian Root Pills. Dr. Morses Indian Root Pills. Dr. Morse's Indian Root Pills. Dr. Morse's Indian Root Pills. Dr. Morse's Indian Root Pills. Dr. Morse's Indian Root Pills. Dr. Morse's Indian Root Pills. Dr. Morse's Indian Root Pills CuroJ of Inoigebtioa and Headache. St. Arulrew's, Que., — March 31, 18S7. \V. II. C'OMSTOCK. 1)1. Alt SiK,— iMokse's Indiax Root I'li.LS have bcnelUod nie won. orfully. I'Or months I siifleixd from Indirection and licadaclic, %vas rcstlc,^ al night and li;id ji bail taste in my nuuUli every niornins^-, after takin'^ one b x of the Fills, all the.se trouldes di.-appenred, my ood digested Weil and niy sleep was refreshing. My hcaltii i.s now good. Daniel Horan. What Morse's Pills are thought of at Riverbaiik, Out. Rivcrbank, Jan. 31, 1SS7. Mr. Comstock. Dk.vr. 81K,— I write to tell yoii in this section of the coantry Dk." ]M(ji<.sf.'s L-jDiA.x lloMT Pii,Ls have a good name. J will give you the names of one or two per.sons who have u.sed them and are loud in their praises. ]Mr. Kobt. Smith wlio lias been an invalid for many years has triid many medicines for regulating' liie bowels, but none suited him till he trifd M()RS!'.s Indian Root Pir.i.s. He savs that there was no ui'pleasanteifects atier t iking them, the aciion beirrian. In those days France was a long way off from Irehmd ; at a distance, indeed, which, (except to the great nobles, to statesmen, to soldiers, and to the Friars Preachers, implied absolute strangeness and division, such as do not now exist between our island kingdoms and any portion of the known earth. From the Abbey of Kilfei'ran went manv an earnest, eati'er-facod monk in the Dominican robe, and cloak, and cowl, to mingle with the motley world awliile, and preach to unwillino^ ears the vanitv of earth, the worth of heaven, and then to return, and keep the severe B 2 TEE QUEEN'S TOKEN but peaceful rule of St. Dominic. But Brother Cyprian, the Frenchman, lived always within the Abbev, altboui-h a tradition lino'ored longj among the perisaiitry of the place — who had little lore beside, or nutriment for the ever active Irish imamiuition — that no more learned mai or "gohlen-mouthed," had dwelt among the Friars Preachers. The Abbev, within whose ancient walls Francois de Valmont found peace, and buried the story of his foi-mer life, was already ancient when he claimed its shelter,. The famous bells, his miinificcnt gift, were landed from a foreign craft, the fashion of whose sails was declared to be " outlandish." A rumour soon gained ground that the novice had brought much wealth to the Community, in addition to his gift of the bells — these the people regarded with superstitious veneration. If, however, Brotiier Cyprian had brought wealth with him into the c.oister, there was no external evidence of its expenditure ; the Com- munity bought no more land, his own life was as obscure as that of any humble lay -brother there ; indeed, his name was rarely heard while he lived. But for "the musical, mao^ical bells," he miijht have been forgotten as utterly as any of the fore- I THE ABBEY 5 gone brethren of the Order, who mouldered away in nameless sepulture in the Abbey burial-ground under the shade of the thick eastern wall. One sturdy fragment of that wall is still standing, and the irregularities of the earth indicate that ancient and forgotten graves arc there. But the bells kept the memory of Brother Cyprian fresh for scores of years, even after they had been carried oil* from the ruined and dismantled Abbey, and hung in the belfry of a church of the reformed faith in the county town. Deep and deadly, though suppressed, under the iron lule of the time, was the wrath of the people, when Brother Cyprian's bells, with their beautiful dedicatorv legends and their orthodox baptism, were transferred to the enemy of their country and their faith. Deep, deadly, and vain ; for the people were helpless. But there was something on their side — some- thinof they could not define, did not care to investigate, did not dare openly to claim and exult in, but, nevertheless, did believe in and did cherish, as an imaginative race ever cherishes an idea which combines the sentiments of religion and revenge. The men employed to hang the bells in their new place fell from the scailblding, and were mortally hurt ; the 6 TEE QUEEN'S TOKEN beifr}^ was strnrk by liglitning and Inirled to the giciuid ; the bells were split in the fjdl, and when rest>re'l, they cracked of their own accord. At length, no man, in all the parish, could be found to (-iliciate as bell-i'inocr, for all knew that he who made Brotlicr Cy}irian's belLs to chime in obedience to the strai)<;er and the heretic, would have no place by any fireside, no partner in the dance, no wife from any pleasant household, no nunc in sickness; that he would, in (act, be outcjist from his fellows. The power of the stronir band availed nothino; airainst this re- solve of ti:e iiiceiiscd j'CO[)le. There were cruel laws enouoh in Ir* land then ; but short of the subjeciiou of slavery, none which could be jipiilied to loice a num to ring Cyprian's bells, and so their sonorous voices were hushed. The tnidition lasted ; dormant, indeed, for none cared to ronse it. At length, in the lapse of time, the bells dis;>ppeaved, none knew exactly when, or how. Tlie explanation might have been simple ; but mystery was preferable, and the mystery was established. But in the course of years, when infants of the days in which the avoided place of Cyprian's bells had been unaccountably left tenantless, were grown meu ■M THE ABBEY ■ ■% 4 '■'>! '•■i and women, it began to be rumoured that tlie bells had again been heard on the heights of Kilferran, and also from the sea, in the calm, slumbering, sparkling time of summer, and on wintry nights, when the watch would listen from shipboard for their solemn, elevating, admonitory music. Young mothers watching by their sick infants' cradles, mourners by death-beds, sorrow-stricken people heavily laden with sin and grief ; above all, the dying, heard the bells. And it was held to be '* a good sion " for those who heard the ancient niu^'c. The happy hearers were not afraid, although no one knew where the bells hung or if tijey were in existence, under any furm ; although ceuturi-s had passed since anv sound had come irom tliede- serted ruins of Kilferran but the swish of the bat's wing, the hooting of the owl, or the twit- tering of nesting birds among the ivy. They were not afraid, nor had tliey any doubt that the voices were those of Cyprian's bells. So that, although it was always sad, yet it was accounted blessed to have heard those bells : many a sick heart had listened for their sound until beniirnant fancy prod iy pri in I longi was satisfied ; the link of sense with the super- natural was f>rantcu. 8 TEE QUEEN'S TOKEN These occurrences were, however, of late date, when ruin had so taken possession of Kilferran Abbey that one would have needed a keen imagination, and knowledge of the archi- tecture of the period at w^hich it had been built, to restore it to the mind's eye, as it was when tlie sandaUed feet of Brother Cyprian trod its cloisters while he mused among the graves — so numerous even then — a man with a refined, dark, French face, eager, and yet weary, and strangely unlike the faces of his brethren. The front of the Abbey was of great extent, and it can now be traced, in all its length, although of the remainder a mere shell exists. Tiie wide and lofty entrance is in the centre, and a por- tion of the stonework above the arch of the massive gateway is in good preservation. This portion consists of a long line of short, bulky columns, which once formed the external side of the principal cloister, and was probably con- tinued on three sides of the building. Of decoration, of the artistic skill and taste with wliich the monks of old were wont to adorn their dwelliiigs, the visitor will at first suppcjse that no trace remains. The fragments of the walls are rouoh fraoments. The time-worn rugged surface of the columns which are still KMCHa ■uawH^i^Ma THE ABBEY standing, in tbeir firm and massive sockets — formed of the dreary-looking grey stone tliat is so enduring — bears no impress of the sculptor's hand. But when the visitor stands close by the doorway, and carefully scans the line of stonework just above the columns, he observes a few feet of masonry, projecting to- wards the hollow, empty centre, and makes out how there once was in that place the massive flooring of a great gallery, probably consisting of cells or dormitories. On narrow inspection, he sees that there w^as also a fire-place, and in the few feet of wall remaining, the mutilated remains of a sculptured tablet may be discerned, just above the tenth column, counting from the right side of the great entrance. The relief is •almost obliterated by age and exposure ; the corners are chipped, green stains mar the surface, and a deep crack traverses the tablet, so that one wonders it has not Ions: as^o fallen from its position and been added to the heap of ruin around. There is no means of climbing up to the level of this sad little relic of a dead and gone artist's handiwork, and it is difficult to make out the design of the bas-relief. The visitor is told that it represents the winged lion of St. Mark, and people suppose that, in old 10 TTna aTTTlFX'S TOKE^ times, the distinctive signs of the Four Evange- lists were sculptured upon the walls of Kilfernin. Who was the sculptor ? No one knows. Perhaps some wanderer coming from the distant sunny home of the arts to this remote place — where they were but little known, and met scant welcome — set the mark of the Christian revela- tion upon the yet unconsecrated w^alls, and went his way ; perhaps the artist was a monk, learned in other lore than the learning of his brethren, and whose peaceful dust has mingled with theirs for ages. There is no other trace of any but the mason's skill at Kilferran. A short distance down the coast, and formed by the sweep of the hills about Kilferran, is a good harbour, where many ships are no uncommon sight, and where, even in those far-away days, there was much recourse of shipping, for commercial purposes, espe- cially for those generally known as " the Por- tingal trade." Many a voyager landed in that harbour, took horse and guide and set forth for Kilferran, where he would be well received and hospitably entertained, and having conferred with the monks, and, mayhap, brought them news of their foreign brethren, or more general mmmm THE ABBKY 11 intelligence of the world ontpule, would go on his way to encounter the vicissitudes of a troublous time, casting a wistful l)ackward look at the peaceful place he left behind. The dwellers by the shore were rude peasants, mostly fishermen, near the A.bbey ; the towns, with their more cultivated and crafty inhabi- tants, lay beyond the harbour far to the south- ward of Kilferran. All dsitors to the Abbey had to come thither of special purpose ; it did not lie in any track, and the brother porter had ample notice of an arrival, before he needed to let fall the ponderous chain f»"om off the heavy black-oak door, and ask the pleasure of the stranger. Seven years had elapsed since the world had lost siijlit of Francois de Valniont, and all the country around Kilferran Abbey had come to know how great were the learning, the piety, and the austerity of Brother Cyprian ; but no stranger had ever asked to speuk with him ; no news from the external world had reached him, in particular. Great events had happened since he looked his last on his native land ; some terrible scenes in the history of the world had been witnessed, and it had gone very hard, not only with the society from which he had cut 12 TTfTj QUUEN'S TOKEy himself adrift, but with a great part of that in which he had taken refuge. Kilferran Abbey owed its safety to its remoteness — to its a ^ja- rent insiguificauce. It is probable that many of the men in power, engaged in destroying the ancient monastic institutions of the land, did not know anything about the obscure Dominican house, or did not think it worth the trouble of exploration. Be that as it may, the turn of Kilferran had not come yet ; the Community were still pursuing their way of life, and hold- ing their goods in peace, although disquieting rumours of the dealings of Elizabeth's EuoHsh deputies with the Irish people and their faith had reached the Abbey, when the first sign was giv^en that any tie still existed between Brother Cyprian and the external world. It was a glorious day, late in the summer ; the fields were fast ripening for the harvest; the sea was slumbering in the sunny haze ; all sounds had a reluctant, drowsy tone in them ; the cattle lay down in content, and the motion- less trees suddenly rustled at intervals as though with stealthy pleasure. , ^ In a small room, with a grated window and bare white walls, sat Brother Cyprian, poring THE ABBEY 13 over gome folios of quaint writing on parchment. His dark face wore its usual eager expression, as with one lean brown forefinger he followed the lines of the writing, and his thin lips moved in unison with his detnpherment. Brother Cyprian looked every inch a monk; but yet, an observer, studying him closely, without his knowledge, would have divined that with other surroundings, he might have looked every inch a statesman or a soldier. The sound of a horse's hoofs was ringing en the fc«:;ny road, but it did not reach his ears, nor did the clanging of the chain, and the opening of the great door. Presently a lay-brother entered and told him there was one below who demanded to see him, and was now in audience with the Prior. Brother Cyprian looked up, with surprise and uneasi- liews, his finger keeping its place upon the line he had reached, and asked the lay-brother to repeat his words. Then he rose, and, paler by many shades of his olive skin, went to the vaulted parloir, where he found the Prior, in cloak and cowl, and with him a man in the prime of life, of soldierly aspect, and, despite his clumsy and stained travelling dress, of a handsome and gallant presence. As Brother 14 THE QUEEN *S TOKEN Cyprinn entered with Ids noiseless st^n .. «tran.er advanced to him wil ^ ^' ^' arms. ^^^^^ outstretched "Fi''i»9ois!" he exclaimed. "Louis! iVly brother!" BSSsSKjBKsEa CHAPTER IT. THE CONFERENCE " You never sought to learn what has been my fate since we parted, Frangois," said Louis de Vahnont to his brother, when they were alone ; and as he spoke he looked closely : in Brother Cyprian's face, trying to discern in > it some trace of the feelings, the interests of the past. Not quite in vain. The elder man's face was not impassive, although it still bore the impress of separation. It said plainly: "Your world has ceased to be mine ; but I can throw my mind back into it again, for awhile, for your sake." There was no lack of interest in the monk's slow smile, although it wanted the tenderness that exists only with association. "You are wrong," said Brother Cyprian, iu : r M I'llE QUE EN • 8 TOKEN the Jong unspoken Jan-ruTvo „f i.- " 1 iKive hear 1 of you In ? f """■'^'' ^""'^• «'■•" hold ,our 1 Lr; r/'^'- '^"^' '^■-' you a.Kl at tl,e Court M ' ? ^"^""'- "^ *''« King . >- i-c, not ; Jr J^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^ -",^'ht else I ea^Jto 1.7 7''~'t'" "'^ -••'--. I knew I .w,,;i,/;j-j;-' to y°u 111 this world anri T ^ ' '"'"■■ of you are I" ' "''/ ^"^ "^i-t; for here - " And have you re.lly „„ desiro-no I • to know more than th„t? r. . "''"- back to the We ,.,,, ,,, ' ,^„f 3-ou never look yo" utterly ceased to 1, te '„'''"'' '""''^ Have you forgotten ? " '"" ^'°" ^•"'^ ? "I have forgotten nothin-. " s,i,wu -the gesture with which lie , "'"""^ '^ •'> «mpl.a.is was slow a ? n''""'' "^ '"'"^ fl-f- that oversprea " t ""^^•" '"'* ^''^^ • q-'-k and invohritary .:;„!"' ^ '-''"■^■J^- -- and your Jife-there is nothi-^ "''" "'° • ' *■» not Franco!. .. .^f ""^ "' *="™™-'- I Cypnan, the Dominican " "is; I am I ha ^e made a 7' " *o see you, to confer broth( Cliurchman thoucrh Ik ^'oya?e/' said ]j with IS now '"ftii X ivnow vou ■ you as to a brother; not a monk you ; and, you to be, I come to THE COS FERE XCE 17 ^^^ you ^ thnt 1 to n- of iiere Brother Cyprian's face changed now, and there was a soft pity in his smik% as he looked at the speaker intently. ** Think that you have come to me as both, Louis, that will be best. Tell me how you travelled hither, and why, and how it comes 'lat you have left Paris. Surely the place has I fc become hateful and deadly to you too ? There is dancjer imd ditficultv, and much weari- liCss in such a voynge ; and, as I remember you, it is only to the first you would be inditferent." " I came hither in a trading-ship from Bordeaux," replied Louis. " The good people of this savage island have one human trste at least — they love our wines. I was recommended to the captain of a trader bound ^to this port, and we had many storms ; but I cared little, my mind beinsr set on the business I came here to do, and on the more distant voyage that is before me. » " Still another voyage, my brother ! and whither?" " You shall hear. When I reached the har- bour yonder, the captain put me in the way of procuring a horse and a guide. He knows the place and the people, and, I dare say, has done some illicit bu^^inoss with them in his 18 time— -he ^'^^' ^^^m>S TOKE^ toJrl speaks freely of th '«e his concernfna J), eir thoughts, and 7 • 1 • o"er roads before me th as w rono-h •ad ^^ s^iore, and but J ]j -^' - such assured „;:, ,7 *? '" ^Ufe -' forth, earl, this J^,: 5^ ^^^P' ave 'iTan. morning, and J^"^-^^^7 in silence, fbr ^^^^^^^^d aij this :Jl ' ^ reception. J performed my bead. ^earj way besi peasant Jad, w] :I( JO ^' ^ wild creature T ' ^^ ^^^^^'^^ .icacuie, and sdp/iU v.. i ^ver^heard by polit Th e ears, » speaks no J, -li^guno-e ^^^e people are native Irf.h ^ own tonrrue" ''^^ -^^^sb, and ff Lik speak their J-^^gb though \h beautiful, with aJJ ^ess. so unJil, e enouo-h • T T^« r "f ' ^' perforce, held road be, th( mine. But --; ou uniiiie ( ■""St not say our ^ts Jon e] in e count] •y is ss and its wild- ^"^' France. But I f,; BO ties. a monk has <( Not ot— I "o eountiy, and '"' ^""'^ '• «ay rather all th, ^e. and suifbr is th, "1 which men li --^t^,andhuma.-t;;;:: WeJJ 'oth er. }} World e monk's n^ai^, from whose face th faded, and was of r ""T'' ^''«P"fe." said th e younoer passing tightness Ld Z' "" ^'' "0^ rqJaced by . r ' «'e« anxiety. «The world^ ! "':"! •«ion as not been THE CONFERENCE 19 ■^^ts, and ^'s a bad oro, and J have- '^^erran, ion. I 'ed niv I who horse's ;gUcige ■ their But y is ^vild- t— I and ad 3H so friendly to me that I need fight its battles. I often think, Francois, the fate whicli left us fiitherless and motherless — you in your childhood and I in my cradle — has pursued me ever siuce." " And not me ? " asked the elder brother, with a wistful look. " I cannot tell — nobody can tell. The cloud of your reserve has always been itupenetrable ; and the world says that only one person in it, besides yourself, knows what it was that sent the brilliant, the successful, the gallant Francois de Valmont into the cloister." " And that one person ? " asked the monk, in a tone which, in spite of him, was anxious and eager. " Madame Marguerlt<', the Quedn of Navarre." The monk smiled. *' The world is as wTong as I have always found it," said he calmly. " Let it guess ; we will leave it and its surmises alone, and speak of you and the business which has brought you hither. Some rumours of the Court at Paris have reached us here. One is that a marriage betw^een one of the princes and the English Queen is planned. Has Mon- seigneur d'Anjou or d'Alenjon sent you on a '. . 5 20 TUli QUJiBX's TOKEN 1 I way roundel to fu|« i^" ^""^^ ^°" """"^ *« this stoue'tth ^n^'T ^""^ ''"*"' ''™^'^If on a %,l>'-s manner, histotanl r^"/"^^'"''^^^^^ -de hi3 brother nnaei^^^^^^^^^^^^ ti3 own past was for ever elold ^ ^''' °^ -'^«- "Y-said,.uJ:^^t:,-f"'''ose from the outer world toM , , ''"^''^ -ot look at me with ir. "7 ''^ *"'''^- O'' face." "'^ condemnation in your offendiu<.yourui„„ ' , ^°" '^ ^"^'^ «tory. >ou cannot understand. I 1,,^^ „ tell you what I am goin. to do I, "' *" Clever hear of me mo^e 7 T ', '" '^'' '^ ^'^u I am about to IZ ^'"'^ '" '''« «ff-'-t oouc to make, you may know tl,-,t r v pernio u. doing my knigl^tJy duty." ""^'^ THE CONFEBEXCE 21 le all this ^elf on a > and lie ^ttentioij. e lie htid ubject of 'ity than watched ^aJ in oat peaking ii thosG 'hani^ed t story 1. Do n your "An enterprise on behalf of the Queen of Scots ! " said Brother Cyprian quickly. **Yes, an enterprise for her — for her whom f[\te and fortune have deserted : for her wlio languishes in an English prison — a palace, they say, but a prison to her most hateful and intolerable." ** For her who forsook friends when she had them, and whose fatal face has sent many a man to his ruin. Louis, I have done with all these gauds of women's follies and coquetries ; but how did she treat you in old times, when you came up to the Court, a mere boy, and wore her colours and her chains ? I heard something of this even then, and " "How did yhe treat me?" said Louis de Valmont exdtedly ; *' how but as a qu^^en treats her servants ; as a woman made more royal by her beauty and her grace, than by the two crowns she wore and the third she has the right to wear, treats those whom she designs to use ? What was I to her more than all the others who lived in the light of her smile ? Was it her fault that she was fatal ? Who has suffered as she has, because to see her was to find it easy to die for her, and to be near her, even unnoticed, was better than any other 22 TUT] QVEF.N*S TOKFN' lot on earth ? You remember her, Francois ? You remember the little Queen Marie, and how she would not suffer her page to be slighted by any one, not even her haughty uncle Guise himself? We were all very young then, not much more than children — she a girl-bride, a girl-queen. What are we now ? You only know how it has been with you since that bright and glorious time ; but I — I have sickened of life, of the drao^e^lnof, lincrerinpj days, which, when they brought any news of the widowed Queen of France, the sad 'white queen,' who went away to the north land, to the savage people who tortured, and betrayed, and slandered her, brought bad, terrible news. It was hard enough to know of her marriage with the brutal Darnley, and the misery that came of it." " And the crime, they say," interposed Brother Cyprian emphatically. "But they lie ! They lie, like the traitors and the cowards they are. Crime ! You can- not have forgotten her ; and yet you must, or you could not mention her name and crime in the same breath. Do not make me sorry that I have come to you, my brother — that I al 01 s^ hi h tJ h PJ a^ w| tl tl 1 tujj: coyFEi:i:yci! 23 ', Fran9ois ? Je, and how- be slighted uncle Guise r then, not ■irl-bride, a You only since that — I have lingering 7 news of sad 'white fi land, to betrayed, ible news. niarriaofe sery that ' traitors ^^ou can- niust, or ^ crime le sorry —that I am resolved to trust you. But no ; this is only your device to turn me from a danger." " I have not forgotten the Queen of Scots," said Brother Cyprian, and now his long thin hand hid the lower part of his face ; " but I have heard from unprejudiced persons the his- tory of her disastrous reign in her own kingdom. You cannot prove that rumour errs in declaring her a guilty w^omao, ^ailty even beyond the wickedness which w^e have known in high places ; and though you could, what would it avail you now ? You are no nearer to this woman — a wife still, remember — the wife of the savage northern earl, Darnley's murderer, than in her early days when she bound you captive by a smile and a word ; and she is also a prisoner in an enum \ 's country, where the knowledge of your swuni service and de- votion wouhl be your iuin, and, it may be, a deadly wrong to her. What would you do, Louis ? Avail yourself of your favour at the French Court, and carry diplomatic messafres to those bears and wolves of the north ? Do you not know that France is abhorrent to them, as the country of M.iry of Guise, who forfeited their independence, and made the policy of the m d4 THJ^ QUEEN'S TOKEN Scottish kino^dom suhsorvient to the ambition of Duke Henri and Cardinal Francois? What weiglit do you carry, my brother, to counterpoise all this ? What is it you would do ? " ** Nothing of the sort you think," answered Louis de Valmont impatiently. " I have no acknowledged mission. J am not going to parley with the accursed traitors who have betrayed their queen — that fair young girl, so soft, so sweet, so bright, who was entrusted to them by those who must have known — or what do the resources of power mean ? — how utterly unworthy they were of such a charge, of so gentle and gracious a ruler. A dove in the eagle's nest, indeed I You remind me that Marie " (his voice fell and his colour rose as he pronounced the .word) "is as far from me as ever. Needless zeal, my brother. She never could be other to me than my sovereign mistress and queen, the ruler of my destiny, to dispose of it with a word. She is a wife, not knowing her husband's fate, as ignorant of her own. Men who cannot understand her frank, fearless nature, say she is heartless, and faithless, and wicked. Even if all they say were true, I do not care. My life is hers, let her do with it as she will." ■.'^_ THE CONFERENGE 25 the ambition 9ois ? What counterpoise k," answered * I have no 't going to ' who have ung girl, so entrusted to vn — or what ■how utterly Large, of so ove in the I me that )ur rose as r from me She never ^Q mistress to dispose >t knowinof her own. ik, fearless thless, and true, I do lo with it A glance of keen intelligence shot from [Brother Cyprian's dark-brown eyes, and he took [the concealing hand from before his mouth. ** Then she has summoned you I She has sent I for you to do some dangerous, perhaps some deadly deed, in her service. Beware, Louis ! I knew her before you did, and I know the school Ishe was trained in— -beware lest the guilt of blood stain your hands — innocent blood it may be, and shed in vain ! " " I have said I do not care ! No matter what she commands, it shall be done, if I can do it, at any cost. I believe her to be as in- nocent as she is beautiful, as deepiy wronged as she is fascinating ; but, if I did not so be- lieve, I would do just the same. Thus, and thus only, do I interpret knightly truth and fidelity" Brother Cyprian extended his hand in de- precation of the other's vehemence, and answered sadly : ** Of course it is thus with you, as with all her bondsmen. There is a magic of subtleness and potency such as Nostradamus Oiid Ruggieri never dreamed of, and this fair woman was ever a mighty witch. You are under the spell, my brother, aud I cannot exorcise you. Let wo 26 THE QUEEN'S TOKEN harsh words, no upbraidings, pass between you and me. Tell me simply how it is now with the Queen of Scots ; what are her commands to you, and wherein I can serve her cause, or yours — I, a poor monk of St. Dominic, under obedience in this remote place — far from either of those kingdoms which banished her, and from that one wherein she has been so evil-entreated. It is with the knowledge and consent, if not by the command of the Queen of Scots that you are here, Louis, I am sure of it." The monk's voice was changed, and when he ceased to speak, his hand once more concealed the too expressive mouth. " I am here by her command ; but I have had no word of writing from her, or message by word of mouth, only a Token, a certain and faithful messenger, one which cannot be inter- rogated, and therefore cannot betray — one which cannot be imitated, and may therefore be im- plicitly trusted. It was signified to me, when the fatal news, that the Queen had put herself into the power of the bastard English tyrant, reached me, that I should hold myself in readiness to go to England, and aid her escape from her hateful durance, somehow. I was to leave Fi^a&ce on the lecci^ o£ a Token — having -4 I THE CONFERESCS 27 Jen you •w with nmaiids ause, or !, under L either id from treated, if not ;s that previously collected all the money which I could amass — and, taking this money with me, was to place it in safe hiding until she had been rescued, and had need of it. I have accordingly for some time past been realising all the wealth at my disposal — the greater part of it was once yours, my brother — and turning it into jewels, as the most portable form for an emergency. I have gained a reputation for eccentricity at Court : there is not a Venice merchant, not a Florentine, not a Pole — we are great friends of the Poles now — who does not know that in me he is sure of a purchaser for his costly wares. There is not a gallant at the Court, except it be Monseigneur d'Anjou,* whose dress is so be- gemmed as mine. There is, however, one jewel in my possession, which no other eyes have ever seen, since it has been mine, though it was famous enough once — it is now supposed to be lost, as 11 reality its fellow has long been." " That jewel is the Queen's Token ? " " It is. When the Token reached me I knew what I had to do. Then I knew she needed me, that her position had become intolerable, that * This ^^""ince shortly afterwards became King of Poland, and was subsecjuentJy Kiug of France, as Henri. III. ... TEE QUEEN*S TOKEN her unnaturnl kinswoman was lioMino^ her in durance, and hope was fading from ber undannted, queenly soul ; that friends were few, and fearful, perhnps faithless — more than this, that she had need of me! Would she forgive me, if I could not quite keep down the joy that knowledge caused me ? If you were not a monk, if you could judge of such things by any feelings of your own, 1 would ask you to say you believe JMarie would forgive me, if she knew that though the Token could oidy reach me through trouble and perplexity of hers, the sight of it made mv heart bound with a sudden sense of hope and freedom ? " '* The Queen of Scots," said Brother Cyprian drily, "is likely to be merciful to any fault which proves her power over a man's feelings and his will." "Answered like a monk," said the younger man. "No matter; I have the Token, and the first portion of my purpose is accomplished. Can you not now see that I had another motive beyond that of seeing and consulting you, for coming hither?" " No," said Brother Cyprian. ** I do not see your meaning. You muse explain your further design and plan of action." place watch I mean I of th I of th( 4 of he J is mej ■Inot tc iCharh Iquain J been I force iQueen |victin iBpirin, ■fScots ake hicl Iworth I spurs, ^ Scots it ithis ? (< 1 *^ i Medici si THE CONFERENCE 29 11? her in ndaiHitcd, id fearful, t she hnd if I could V now ledge k, if you eeliugs of )u believe new that 6 through sight of sn sense of ir Cyprian any fault *s feelings younger )ken, and Qiplished. er motive tr you, for lo not see Lir further " Willinorlv. The Queen of Scots is at a 1 place called Tatbery, where she is ji alonsly I watched, and tormented by every dm'ice of a J mean woman's time-seiving spite, by the wife I of the Earl of Shrewsbury, one of the creatures iof the English Queen. This countess is jenlous 1 of her captive, and I am well advised that she is meanly entertained, even for a lady of estate, not to vspeak of her Grace being a Queen. King Charles and Madame Catherine* are well ac- iquainted with the truth, and remonstratice has J been made to Elizabeth, who denies that any force or violence have been used towanls the Queen of Scots, and charges the hel{)les3 victim, immured in an odious prison — with con- Bpiring against her, with sending letters to the Scots lords, requiring them to take up arms, make an inroad to her prison, and set her .^ee. Which things, had there been any among them worthy to be called noble, any fit to wear guide n spurs, and carry their liege lady's colours, these Scots lords would have done." ** And does the Queen of Soots deny this ? " " Yes ; she declares that she haG> not written * Charles the Ninth. The Queeii Mother, Caiherine de Medicis. 80 THE QUEEN'S TOKEN' nny snrh letter, or roprcsented Eliziboth'a be- lijiviour in a liaiah li^lit." "And yet she has sent to yoit jnst such coTTiplnints as those, nnd arranged with you a phni for lier release — surely not undertaken alone and without concert. Louis, do you not see that this is ruin ? Do you not see that only the utter failure of her schemes within a narrower ran<^e can have driven her to the forlorn hope of your assistance ? " " It may be so, most like it is, for your cold wisdom sees clearer and farther than my im- petuous faiih. But so be it. I shall have in my life one nour worth ending it for, the hour in which Marie shall know that I have come over land and sea at her call, ready for any attempt, however desperate, to join the few who are still faithful to her in her fallen fortunes — for / a7n not alone in this — the hour in which she shall thank me by one look." Brother Cyprian made no reply. He placed his elbows on the black-oak table, and hid his face in his hands. A ray of the summer sunlight shone through the painted window, striking sharply the edge of the thick, deeply cut stone wall, touching the shaven crown of the monk's bowed head, and glinting THE COKFEREKCW 51 fifth's be- jnst such th you a ken alone 1 not see that only within a T to the your cold my im- htive in e hour in ome over attempt, who are anes — for v'hich she le placed hid his summer window, J, deeply crown glinting on the burnislied sword-hilt and long spurs of the stranger. ** Look how the sun comes out," snid Louis de Valmont. "I am a believer in omens, and here is a good one. Many a good omen has attended me since I quitted Paris in obedience to her Token, and I have welcomed them all. Listen, Francois. This is our — my plan. There are negotiations for the marriage of this English Queen with Monseigneur d'Anjou ; but they will come to nothing. It is a scheme of Malame Catherine's ; the Duke will have none of it. When it is settled, and the envoys have talked their fill about it, he will find a pretext, and the negotiation will come" to an end. Then there will be no more conciliation of England — then the inquiries already made by La Motte w^ill be followed up ; and if Marie were but safely out of the hands of her foes, her interests would be espoused by France. It is natural that they should be ; for she has bequeathed all her rights and claims to the house of Valois." The young man spoke as ardently, as en- treatingly, as though he were pleading the Queen's cause, the cause on which he had set his life, before one with power to judge it. Hope, enthusiasm, courage, lighted up hia 82 THE QUEEN'S TOKEN handsome face, which resemMcd that of his brother in form, but not in colouring or expression. The younger man's hair and beard, trimmed after the fashion of the time, were of a golden brown hue, and his large, restless eyes were lighter than the brown orbs of the monk, in which time and habit had dimmed the light, but increased the depth. " Say that you think we must succeed, Francois," he continued pleadingly. '" Tell me that this risjhteous cause must be fav^oured of God and blessed by the Church — that it must prosper. Tell me that, brother, ai d also that I sliall have your own blessing on my enterprise. A ship will be in readiness to take the Queen on board, when we can get her to the coast. I am not afraid of doing: that. You can remember the Queen -Danphiness in the hunting-field, Fran9ois, long before I had ever seen her. You remember how she rode ever foremost, and fearlessly. The fame of her horsemanship is almost as widespread in France ii.s ^lio fame of her beauty ; and she has had sore need of all her skill, strength, and. endurance since tnen. Heard you here of her famous ride to Carbery?" " We have heard, among other things, that i after i rode ment after\> I and ( dange their her. more appre( I her to TUE CONFERENCE 33 lat or ^is lifter lier escape from Lochleven, the Qneen out- ^^ f rode ner pursuers, aud avoided tluit imprison- ment at the hands of her subjects which she afterwards courted at those of her kinswoman and enemy. But the Queen of Scots had ever dangerous advisers near her, and a ready ear for their counseh" "You are hard and cold of speech concerning her. Surely her great sorrows might claim more sympathy, and somewhat soften your keen appreciation of her faults, if faults you believe her to have." " I do not only believe, I know her to have fatal faults," said Brother Cyprian ; " but I am not thinking of them now, or indeed much of her sorrows, but of you, and of this task which you have undertaken for a fated cause. Ay, Louis, a fated cause — Mary Stuart is fatal to all who love and serve her. There is no truth in her, there is no stability in her. When she was a girl, almost a child, she ever won by a ruse. She never valued loyalty or love ; she lived but to betray. And so, I say, her cause is doomed, is fatal. Stay ! let me go on. I have little more to say, and I say it with conviction, — not in useless warning — not to rouse your anger, but to quiet my own conscience when ourinor and beard, , w^erc of a stless eyes the monk, i the light, ■ succeed, •'^Tell me Lvoured of it it must Iso that I enterprise. Queen on Lst. I am remember I ting-field, er. You nost, and emanship 'lie fame e need of :ice since 3 ride to ngs, that ~~~~~"\im 34 THE QUEEN '8 TOKEN this effort, too, shall have failed, and you arei^vho ha sacrificed to the attempt, foredoomed from thtftad wh first." their Q "You will not aid me — you will not accept | «*I my tru.st ? Are yon so utterly dead, then,|]ypriar Francois ? Is all feeling so completely buried |o see t under your monk's frock in this cold cloister ? " jt\^Q Qu( " Not so, not so. I will aid you — I wil! *eneros accept your trust. And I will say no more ol %orse i warning. Are you sanguine of success ? When |iosta "I cannot pause, I cannot consider. She is D 9 36 TEE QUEEN'S TOKEN 4 wearing out her life, her beauty is fading, he lieart is breaking, in the degrading bondage oflQa her prison. She woukl change this for any lot|the — for that of a peasant wlio is free. Let her butltru escape, and all will be well." • licQl- Brother Cyprian shook his head sadly. Ban " I do not put faith in that," he said. " I do lacr not believe the Queen of Scots would relish any Irec liberty that was not restoration. You may free fper her, but not iov flight alone, not for the peaceful | hiding of the head which has worn two crowns. |thi She will go from her prison to her throne, or j pre to her grave." " Then I will stand by the side of the one, or die by the side of the other. The determination of our plan in all its details is not in my hands ; but you must help me in so much of it as this. The treasure I have amassed is not to be expended for the escape — that is otherwise provided for. This treasure is to form her resource afterwarils, to be carefully concealed, so that none shall know of its existence save the Queen and myself. When she needs it I will come for it, if I am alive ; if not, you " Brother Cyprian started, and exclaimed, " Yes, you — for you will undertake the trust, alo I I tlu poi he wl dc m y t N- THE CONFERENCE 37 3 fading, her|l know— you will receive the Token from the ? bondage offQ^een, by which you will know that she needs 3 tor any Jot|the jewels and the gold, and that its bearer is a ■L-et iier out|trusty servant of her Grace. You will never impart the secret, or relinquish the treasure, on y* B^^y other guarantee. Fraii9ois, I have come 'aid. " I ^\q iacross the sea to ask this of you ; it is the first ^Giish any Ireoognition of our brotherhood for many years, ou may free |perchance it may be the last." JG peaceful | Brother Cypriau sighed. He had no hope in wo crowns. |this enterprise, and his heart was heavy with I presentiment. " I will accept the trust," he said, " but not alone ; that our rule would not suffer me to do. I must have the Prior's permission to receive the treasure, and he must be aware of its dis- position. You have nothing to fear from him ; he is a good man, and full of sympathy for all who are oppressed and suffering, though he does not know much of the great affairs of nations. You may have noted his kindly manner and gentle voice, while he spoke with you." ** I did. There can be no risk in putting trust in him, I think; but what if he will not permit you to guard the treasure here? There is no other resource." throne, or the one, or termination my hands ; ' it as this. 3 expended >vided for. ifterwards, lone shall nd myself. '^f if I am exclaimed, the trust, 88 THE QUEEN'S TOKEN **Do not fear, I shall have no difficulty. And now, where is this treasure ? " ** Not vet disembarked. I did not know how I might speed in comiug hither. Nay, more, I did not know whether you, my brother, were still alive, or whether they would bring me to a grave-side, and tell me you were resting beneath. I must return to the harbour, and to-morrow bring hither the mail that contains the jewels and the gold. I will not linger now, 'tis a long ride and a rough one, and it will be dark before 1 reach the shore. The Prior told me I should find refreshment for my horse, my guide, and myself here ; they have been fed, doubtless, and r will but break bread and drink a cup of wine before 1 go." " So be it. While you are taking this re- freshment I will see the Prior, and disclose your erranil, in so far as I am bound to tell it. But first, what is the Queen's Token ?" Louis de Valmont unclasped his short riding- cloak at the throat, and put his hand into the breast of his leathern coat. " There is but one such jewel in existence," he said, " and you must have seen it, for you were present at the marriage of the Queen of Scots with the Dauphin." Bi issent] l;vhite| inicldl| ed a Isigni I well ■ I these iDauv I more I bighl ■| the . wher i"g. iu-hi But the; but da} noi th5 Ki hs w fi THE CONFERENCE 89 ^ (difficulty.! >t know how '^^y, more, I Brother Cyprian made a silent sign of issent. *' The bridegroom and the bride each wore a ,vhite satin shoulder-knot, with a jewel in the other fiiiddle. Each jewel was a bala.s-ruby, blood JO- njQ f |i"ed and heart-shaped, whereon lay a pearl to n^i- beneif] i^^S^^O^ '^ tear. The cunning workmanship is to rv.^« Iwell-nicjh as pi-iceless as the orems, no more than I'U-morrow I ^ & ' tlie ievv I 1^^^^^^ ^^'^ having ever been made. The Queen- tis a I IDauphijiess prized the ruby heart, they said, ^ai-Jc ] f ^ ^ more than any jewel in her possession, more highly than even the famous black paarls, like grapes of Muscadel, which have been sold to the English Queen for a third of their price, whereat Madame Catherine is incensed, deem- ing, that when opportunity to rob her daughter- in-law arose, she should have had the preference. But there was a fate over this jewel ; indeed, they say none ever possess a ruby of size but there is a violent death at the end of their days. The Queen-Dauphiness lost it, she could not tell when or how ; nor was more ever known than that she wore it at the jousting in which King Henry received his death- wound at the hand of Gabriel de Montgommery. Much search was made for it in vain ; and people said it had fuliilled its evil reputation, and was accursed. ore e I should ^tiide, and ^tless, and 'P of wine f this re- 2iose your it' But 't ridino-- into the but one ud you sent at 'ith the I ! ! 40 THE QUEEN* S TOKEN The ruby heart was never heard of more, and ; «« when King Fr \ illness commenced he had Jearn a fear of tb'' -.>w jewel, and would have it iQfne taken from collar in which it was set, and k^ laid by. Then the Queen, who was always t^\\^ daring, and mocked at such superstitious fables, ^qvci even though she did not quite disbelieve them, if^xxi, begged the ruby heart at his hands, and he, fy^ n being near his end, and not caring to contest iijlenc anything with her, gave her the gem. When elear, she deigned to cause it to be signified to me. >vvith that she relied on me for help in her evil ^liite fortune, the Queen sent me that Token ; it is ** one that could not be mistaken or counterfeited, l\i^ pea* it could come fiom none but her. There is I " no other jewel like it in the vvorM." ■ A While Louis was speaking his hidden hand J^ilfe had loosened from his neck a short chain of |gton> strong, finely-wrou*;ht steel links; from this |paiii< a small steel purt^e was suspended, containing | ^ an olji'ct about the size of a walnut, rolled up tiglitly in a [)iece of fine leather. With the hist words Louis pi, han<1. Bi other Cyprian proceeded to open the purse, Luuis hiokini» al him with a half smile. 4^ ({ 1 cannot find the sprin;j," he said. I KiU< \ , I whe ' hills and hav in THE CONFERENCE 41 * *^^i " ^^* ^^® trkk is cunning, and you must e had |earn it, for if tbe Tokeu comes to you it will 3uJ(l have it i • ai i. 'i. • rpi i.1 • 1 '^ fome in that purse as it is now. ilie third e , and jj^j^ ^^ ^j^g right slides, so, and the purse was always ^^ ^^^^ » rpj^^^ Louis unrolled the leather aoles, Covering, and Brother Cyprian saw the famous lem, ^ena. It was a quaint and beautiful olgect, and I and he, ^^ monk looked at it intently, but in utter 3 contest -^ileuce. It was a fair balas-ruby, heart-shnped, ni. When Jclear, smooth, and red like blood ; laid on it, cc to me. ^[i\i a well-feigned carelessness, was one soCtly- n her evil ^^^^ p.^rL " You will know that Token, brother, whcu Ht reaches you." J " I shall know it," said the monk. f An hour later, Louis de Valinont had left tKilferran, and was winding his way over the J stony and dithcult track to the shore, accom- i panicd by his wild-looking guide. ' Solemnly rose the voices of the monks of Kilferran, as they chanted tlieir evening <»tKce, when the sun had scone down behiinl the rnoraed hills, and the ocean waters were tossing grey and murky under the dull sky. None could have discerned in Brother C\|)iiin's face, or in any tone of his voice, that the da) just departed had differed from any other day of his ^l^en ; it is untcrfeited, There is dden hnnd 't chain of from this containinor rolled up th the last ^ brothers the puree, iiiMiBiijirrr;.: " 42 THE QUEEN'S TOKEN liii!! even, uneventful life. His keen brown face' looked out from under his cowl, composed and devotional, liis voice rose solemnly melodious with the voices of his brethren. When the others Icfc the chapel he lingered still, kneeling in his stall. After some time had elapsed, and when the stillness and solitude around were complete, he arose, and approached a recess on the left of the altar where the dim light of an antique lamp glimmered. Upon the rudely-coloured wall of this recess hung several reliquaries, some of precious, others of base metals, and of various forms ; for Kilferran was a noted shrine for the resort of suppliants in temporal and spiritual distress. Many an ex voto was placed there as testimony to the granting of petitions from dwellers near, and pilgrims from afar. Brother Cyprian took down from the wall one of the least conspicuous of these objects ; it had the ordinary form of a heart, ar^d was of no richer material than wrought iron, and hold- ins: it so as to catch the feeble lio^ht from the lamp, he opened it, and looked fixedly upon its interior. The iron heart contained a fair balas-ruby, heart-shaped, clear, smooth, and red like blood ; laid on it, with a well- 5ignc( ieurl. Ha luictV ,ouis isr TUB CONFEUENCF 43 '1 brown faco|igucd carelessness, was one softly - white composed and f^'iirl. nelodiouswith i He replaced tlie rcliqiiavy, and movrd ^n the others |nietly away, murmuring : ^ First^ me, and now kneeling in Louis! God forgive you, Marie 1 " elapsed, and around were hed a recess ^ ae dim lights of this recess of precious, rious forms ; )r the resort tual distress, ^s testimony weilers near, )m the wall ese objects ; , and was of 1, and hold- It from the xedly upon lined a fair fiooth, and h a well- 'Pi !!,'•' I CHAPTER TIL THE TOKI.N The sky was red on the morning of the day when Louis do Valmont set sail from the southern harbour, after a grave leave-taking with his brother. From the cloister of the old Abbey, Brother Cyprian looked out on the face of the heavens, musing on the strange event which had befalic! him, and full of presenti- ment that evil would come of his ^.other's enterprise. And, as he gazed, the face of the heavens darkened, antl the roseate clouds seemed to him to be driven across it with a fierce, sweeping motion, as though a terrible storm- spiiit were in pursuit of them. Even in those remote times the phrase which presaged ill to the mariner from the redness of the mornirig, was a proverb among the people who dwelt by THE TOKEN 45 f tht day ^^'om the 5^ the old I the i£ice S^ event presenti- - -other's e of the ' seemed 1 fierce, storm- n those I ill to orning^ i^elt by the dangorons coast, aud wore learned in the symptoms of weatlier. ''Tempest is coming," said the monk. "It may be but a sudden and brief summer squall ; but it is coming. And a fiercer tempest is be- yond, also a sure shipwreck. Ave Maris Stella ! ora pro nobis ! " Some hours later, from the topmost windows of tlie Abbey, a sail was visilile, on the extn-mo verge of the horizon, and Brotlier Cy[)rian gazed upon it with resigned sadiioss. " F.irewell, my brother I " he murmured. "I shall never see you more until we meet in the land wliich is very far off, and where sorrow and its memory have alike no existence. The land that is very far off, and yet no man knows how near, the land that may be close to all of us, closer than the shore wliither that tossing barque is bound, with her freight of love and loyalty, of hope and daring." The influence of his cnlm and monotonous life was strong upon Brother Cyi)rian; but yet there was a yearning lo(»k in his eyes as he gazed over the sea towarils the sail — even as he gazed the vessel disappeared — a yearnino- look, whi(!h would have told a keen ol)Server that the strife in his breast was not yet over. I 46 THE QUEEN'S TOKEN That niojbt a terrific storm arose, and burst iij wildest fury over Kilferrau Abljey, making breaches in the venerable walls, and uprootini,^ several of the trees that adorned the precinct of the monastery. All the night long the wind howled and raved, and down the coast it was said that the furious, ceaseless thundering of the waves was heard for miles inland. Perhaps, in those old days, when everything beyond one's actual siixht was vasrue, when partino- always implied utter uncertainty, and no public service existed for the transuiission of intelligence affecting only private individuals, suspense was not so heart-sickenino^, not such a onawinsr at the roots of life as it is now. Brother Cyprian did not expect to hear tidings of Louis, save by chance ; until tlie Queen's Token should reach him, he did not look for any sure knowledge of his brother's fate ; the tremendous storm, which raged with unabated violence for three days and nights, was in keeping with his own secret feel- ings, but he made no sign. He had known the schooling of the cloister, and earlier still the schooling of unknown, unshared sorrows : under their joint restraint Brother Cyprian kept his soul in patience. Soon after the subsidence of the tempest rumours of shipwrecks oif the .to IloI THUJ TOKEN 47 se, aud bursl ^ey, making! ^d uprootingj e precinct of j ^ the wind I coast it was! iiuIeriDo- of; '• Perhaps, beyond one's ■^'^S' alvvavs iWic service inteiJigeijce | g'iJawinor at '^'r Cjprian ^^•-^is, save '^^Jti reach :>w]edoe of ^ni, wiiicli d^^-js and j -cret feej- I fio^vn the stiJI the s: under ^^m his ^sidence oif the jonthern coast, with much loss of life and pro- Iperty, arose, aud dismal tales of the crimes of 'the wreckers were told. But no tidings came to Kilferran of the loss of the ship in which Louis de Valmont had sailed. No spar had drifted in, no drowned sailor, or shattered, wave-tossed shred of ship's gear, to tell of a vain battle with the awful storm-army, and of swift, sure defeat. Days became weeks ; the summer waned, but no iutelliiience of Louis de Valmont reached Brother Cyprian. The Queen's Token came not. Such scraps of strag- gling intelligence as found their way to Kil- ferran had no reference to the escape, the release, or any amendment in the condition of the captive Queen. Was Louis dead or living ? Had he made the attempt and failed — made it so foolhardily, been so powerless and inconsider- able among Mary's friends and against her enemies that he was merely set aside, killed, perhaps, and no mention of him made the public rumour ? Brother Cyprian pondered much upon these things, gravely — not with acute pain indeed, for the accidents of time had sunk, in his mind, to nearly their just insignifi- cance — but no solution of them came. Brother Cyprian looked a good deal older; his habitual III 48 TEE QUEEN'S TOKEN o^ravity deepened ; and could those among who-lvicc \w. dwelt have hoard the words of prayer moss frequently upon his lips, tliey would hav. known them for the solemn pleadings of thi *'De Profundis." the Brother Cvprian and the Prior talked some -i^ times of the brief visit of Louis de Valtuont,fc^^ and of the trust confided to their keeping. Thelco Prior did not share Brother Cvprian's presenti- ftei ment, nay, conviction, that Louis de Vahnojitjca had perished, either by shipwreck, or in the ihe attempt to execute his project. News indeed I reu came slowly, and was often neither full nor V^ trustworthy when it did cume ; but the ship was m^^ a large vessel, and there were certain relations between the coast poo!)lc and her captain and crew, and if she had been wrecked, the intelli- gence would have reached them somehov^^ The Prior, admiring the patience of Brother Cyprian, had diligent inquiry made among the coast people, and found that among them there was no fear that the ship was lost. So, the Prior arirued that the CheviJier's desiijn was held in abeyvmce for some good reason ; that time was not ripe, and that Louis held aloof from all communication with his brother, in order not to compromise his associates, or endanger their 3 otl sit n( ai ^WH^, >se among who; of prayer mo^ y would hix^A P^'adiugs of ti], '^ ^^^?ted some. « ^e VaJnioMt, na/i's preseuti-l ^ ^^ Vahnojul ^'^^ or in the ^^•^^•s indeed! f^^^^^ i^'ii nor I ^ tlie ship v\7is I t^'i^i relations | cnptain and \ '» the intejji. lehow. The '^^^ Cyprian, 5 the coasfc ^^ there w-is ^ the Piior ^'''s held in t time was f from alj '^er not to "g^r their T//^ TOKEN 49 luccess. He had told his brother he was to ear of him (urged the Prior) only in a certain vent — when he should need the gold and ewels — and then he would bring, or send him, he Queen's Token. Soon there arose matters of quite another ature to disturb the Prior of Kilferran and his ommunity ; the dark and evil days which had efallen so many, but had hitherto spared them, came upon them now. The Lord-Deputy had heard of Kilferran at last, and, despite the remoteness and obscurity of the place, deter- mined to " root out " the monks. Such pro- ceedings as had previously been taken against other monastic houses, so conspicuously well- situated that they could not be overlooked, were now put in execution against Kilferran Abbey ; and the monks were in daily dread and danger of being expelled from the sheltering walls of their remote dwelling-place. Some timid souls among the community of the Friars Preachers regarded the trials which threatened them with almost womanly terror, but the Prior and Brother Cyprian were not of that number. Id their frequent conferences respecting what must be done, if the soldiers of the Lord-Deputy should come to harry and drive them out, the :i 60 TUJ^ QUEEN'S TOKEN 1.1' sul)ject of the treasure entrusted to Brotlierl C)'[)rian, by him whose fate was all luiknovvnj to them, was often discussed. *' It must be hidden," was the conclusion arrived at by the Prior ; "it must be removed from the cellar underneatli the buttery where your hands and mine placed it, and concealed with what skill we have, and what precaution we can take. A statement of the nature, the destination, and the hiding-place of the treasure, must be drawn up by you, my son, and kept constantly in the possession of one or other of us, so that in the hour of supreme danger, or death, the holder may have it in his power to communicate the knowledi^e to another, who can, in his turn, fulfil your brother's intention if called upon to do so." *'Time is passing, father, and I think the Queen's Token will never reach me." " Even so, some provision must be made for the restoration or other disposition of this treasure." The Prior and Brother Cyprian studied the plan of the Abbey, a quaint drawing that bad been made nearly a century earlier, and they decided on a spot in which to conceal the treasure. One night, in the cold, early spring, bei ih< del to itO A '* ] ^a EN THE TOKEN 61 ed to Brother 8 all unknown the conclusion ist be removed buttery where and concealed lat precaution le nature, the f the treasure, 'on, and kept le or other of ae danger, or his power to another, who s intention if I think the St be made tion of this an studied awing that earlier, and conceal the arlj spring, hen all was silent in the Abbey, and only the im red lamp, burning always in the sanctuary, ntruded on the reign of night, the Prior came Brother Cyprian's cell, and told him he was ieady. Then the two softly descended to the ellar beneath the buttery, where the mail con- ided to their care by Louis de Valmont had |een deposited. When the Prior had opened ihe heavy door, and they stood within the small aulted chamber, Brother Cyprian struck a light from flint and steel, and lighted a lantern ; then |liey looked for a black streak upon the wall ^hich indicated the spot where the mail lay. |iidden under sturdy logs of firewood. I "It is here," said Brother Cyprian, stooping to remove the logs, and disclosing to view the stained and torn surface of a leathern valise, which was, however, strongly lined with iron. " I know not the precise nature or the exact value of the contents, but Louis was rich, and he told me all his wealth was here, except what lie reserved for his maintenance and charges on liis fatal mission. Perhaps there is a list of the items of this treasure inside the maih" I The Prior held the lamp, and Brother Cyprian with difficulty carried the leathern valise— for it was, though small, M^xy heavy — 8 2 52 TUE QUEEN'S TOKbN throiioh the papsaqes and up the winding flig of stone steps that led to tlie open ch)ist adjoining the great entrance. At the top the was a massive door of black oak, sheeted wi iron, and studded with heavy nails. This do was not barred, and it unclosed noiselessl The Prior and Brother Cyprian passed throug it, and found themselves in the cloister, whe some straggling rays of moonlight that pierce the darkness gave additionally weird etfect tB j j, the gloom. l^^ ^ th t h s i rin th( ti bi h ief ni 3 Brother Cyprian w^as the chief scribe of thi | Community. Little writing was in those cl^'^yMthe necessary to the management of all huma» ^^ affairs outside of diplomacy, in comparison witm ^ the present demand for the liteiu scripta ; buju certain matters had to be transacted by the peiM ^ and Brother Cyprian's services were in tolerj ably constant demand. He had never passe so much of his time in that same small rood with bare white walls, and heavy oaken tablei ed ce. e s whither the lay-brother had come, to announca|g ^^ the memorable visit of Louis de Valmont, aa^j^g immediately after the transfer of the treasure \^\^ to a secure hiding-place. For many hours om^Qy many days the Community saw nothing o»ith r&w THE TOKEN 63 ik, sheeted wi ails. This do sed noiseless! passed throug] * cloister, whe le winding fligf^ther Cyprian, except in choir and refectory ; le open cL)i,stt^^ j^^ ^,^g understood to be engaged in busi- Vt the top the^g ^^j. ^^^ p^i^^^ ^^^ ^^^^ inquired farther. ring that time he indited an accurate record, the kiborious, cumbrous, slow handwriting of time, of all that had occurred in relation to brother, and to the trust of the treasure ; he recorded upon the document his own ^ht that pierced f ^1^,^^ L^^i^ ^^^ Valmont was dead. Writing weird effect t|^g^, ^j^jg conviction, he added to the statement t he, being the only survivor of Louis, and natural Loir, bequeathed all the gold and ef scribe of th|,gl3 ^^^^.^ij^g^l in the indi:;ated hiding-place J in those daj^^i^^, (j^ePerg i^ Kilierran Abbey, for their use of all bumaji^ absolute disposal. The bequest was to take ipaiison ^vit,£|g|3 whenever it should become necessary to ^ * uike the fact of its existence known, owing to ^ ^ P^^^ death of Louis de Valmont being ascer- weie in toleij^^^^^-j^ 1^^^ (Cyprian's) own death having taken never passei^n^g^ ,^^^ ^j^^ treasure remaining unclaimed by ime small roon^ q^^^^^^ ^f g^ots, or any emissary of hers, y oaken tablcj^^^, g^j^j claim, it was stated in the document, e, to announcy^g ^^ 1^^ recognised as valid, solely on condition le Valmont, a^f ti^epj.^^^^^.|.|^jjj ^^f ^ certain Token, agreed upon )f the treasur^^ himself and his brotlier. This Token was to nany h()urs Oj^^ ,^^^,^1^^ ^ 1^^,^^ (Cyprian), at the time of his w nothing uj^th, to a third person, who should be charged, 54 THE QUEEN'S TOKEN • I under similar conditions, with the transmission of the secret to one individual, preferably the Prior of the Community. His task completed, Brother Cyprian com- mitted the writings to the custody of the Prior, who placed them in safety, and all trace of the momentous occurrence which had disturbed his life passed away. Vague rumours of the discovery of con- spiracies for the overthrow of Elizabeth, for the placing of Mary Stuart upon the English throne, and even for the rescue of the Queen of Scots without any defined ulterior purpose, had come to Kilferran ; but no tongue syllabled De Yalmont's name, and no incident in the various stoiies which were in circulation seemed to the Prior or to Brother Cyprian to have any reference to Louis, either under his own, or under an assumed designation. Neither had : ny tidings been heard of the ship, and the inquiries made by the Prior now received des- ponding answer. Brother Cyprian entertained no farther hope, and after awhile he fell sick. He strove for some time with the de- clining strength, the waning energy, the dulness and supineness of mind and body which were diiily making havoc with him ; he filled his THE TOKEN 55 plnce in choir, in pulpit, in refectory, in the sanctuary. His eloquence was not the less burn- ing that he had the strength to use it but seldom ; within and wilhout the Community he gained hearts which he had not pieviously touched. So convinced was Brother Cyprian — over whom was the strange enlightening injjj*en'ce of ap- proaching death — that hisHiJfother no longer lived, that he requested the Prior to permit the celebration of a solemn requiem for Louis ; and this was granted. With the sword of persecution hanging over their heads, the monks of Kilferran assembled for the function. Their homely chapel was hung, their uncostly altar was dra[)ei] in black, and never had the strains of the " De Profundis" risen to heaven from those venerable walls with a more piercing and mournful wail. Tlie voice of Brother Cyprian was heard among the voices of the brethren, with an agony of sup- plication in its tone, in which some present discerned warning and farewell. From tliat day liis stall in the choir, his place in the refectory, knew him no more, and before L)ng it became noised abroad in the l.ttle world which sur- rounded the Abbey, that Brother Cyprian was dymg. The slow, insidious diseases of later '^. I U 56 TEE QUEEN'S TOKEN times were much less known in other days, when all the conditions and habits of life were simpler and hardier. Men died of fevers, of phigue, of the '* black death." They lived, in general, a shorter time than the people of this epoch in the world's history live, and were counted aged men when our contemporaries are reckoned in the middle term of life. There were unusual and mysterious symptoms about this mortal sickness of Brother Cyprian — long ti'ances of seeming unconsciousness, in which no sound of any human voice could so reach him as to arouse recognition ; yet sometimes his face wore a happy smile, as though there were some presence by his bed, unseen by the watchers, who were patient, unskilful men, with only good- will to bring to their task. Again, muttered sounds of pleading, of dread, of remonstrance, for the most part inarticulate,* but awfully expres- sive, broke the stillness of niijht, and chilled the hearts of the hearers. They had little ex- perience of minds diseased, and Brother Cyprian was not to be suspected of a burdened conscience, of a troubled soul. And yot in those ramblinors of the mind, freeinij itself from the fragile, fading body, tliere was agitation ; wild vagaries of memory distracted the dying THE TOKES- 57 man ; nnmes wliicli belonged to an<^ther country, to a pliase of liistory out of which the world liad passed, came frcqiicntly from his lips. There was now much cominsj and caning to and from Kilfcrrnn Ahhev, and trouhled consul ta- tions took p'ace between the Prior and the monks, and the strangers who brought them confirmntion and warning of evil days near at hand. But, amid all this, undisturbed by the pressing trouble and danger, occupied by quite other thoughts, drao^ored back to the life which he had so long ago renounced, by that mys- terious power which rules the spirit of the dying, Brother Cyprian lay on his death- bed. Late one night, when the whole Community, save only the watchers, had retired to their cells, one of the latter came to the Prior, and told him that the monk desired to see him. The Prior instantly complied with the summons, and, on entering the cell, found Cyprian awake, quite sensible and calm, but with a look in his dark, worn, feeble face, which can never be mis- taken by any who have once seen it — that look wh ch tells that death is very near. The monk's thiu, transparent hands were stretched out be- fore him and clasped, and his eyes were closed ; li •urn 68 TUl!^ QUEEN'S TOKEN m wm but they opened as the Prior approached, and all the trouble, the restlessness, the vague anguish which had been in them of late, was gone. '* You sent for me, my son," said the Prior, advancing to the side of the rude pallet on which the dying man lay. ** Yes, father ; I want to speak with you alone.. My time is very short. Let the Com- munity pray for me, and do you hear my last confession." For some weeks no such clear and coherent words had come from Brother Cyprian's lips. " And now," said the dying man, when his confession was ended, and silence had prevailed for a little while, " I will tell you how I know this is the end, that my last night on earth is passing on to the morning." *' Tell me, my son," said the Prior, whose habitual composure was severely taxed, for he loved the dutiful and zealous monk with more than the perfunctory affection supposed to be inherent in a " superior,*' and he had just listened to a strange and melancholy history. ** You are not suffering, and I am not leech enough to read the subtle signs of approaching dissolution. I must summon our brother intirmarian." 'iii'ii'ii 1 THE TOKEN 5