"What mean you, Drost Peter?" inquired Lady Inge, with wounded pride.

"Do you accuse yourself, and all of us, with a base p.r.o.neness to craft and falsehood?"

"Understand me rightly, n.o.ble lady. The craft of Hamlet is, in the main, completely Danish, though I cannot prize it as in anywise great and n.o.ble. This kind of craft ever betrays itself in a respect for truth, even when it may not and dare not be spoken openly. Every period of disquiet and internal disturbance in Denmark will show us that, with the best and n.o.blest of the people, our honesty, justice, and love of truth never entirely disappear, but reveal themselves where the mere semblance of truth is used as a cloak to deceit. The greatest deceiver and nidding amongst us will always blush to deny or disguise the truth openly: he is too proud to lie, even were it to save his life; and he will speak the truth even where it may endanger him, but so darkly and figuratively, that himself only and his friends can understand it, while his foes receive it in an opposite sense."

"Therein, perhaps, you maybe right," said Jomfru Inge, gravely; "but a wish to wrest and distort the truth does not, in consequence, lie in the people's mode of thinking.

"Far be it from me to a.s.sert that it does," replied Drost Peter; "but I have observed that even the most upright of our commoners take a singular pleasure, whilst jesting, in striving to tack something on a person's sleeve, as they term it, strictly, however, without telling an untruth. In this consists a great portion of the craft and wit of our common people. It may be highly good-natured and innocent; but, in times like these, it is still a dangerous quality, which renders it extremely difficult to distinguish the true friends of the crown from its secret enemies."

"Nay, nay," exclaimed Jomfru Inge, gladly; "in this you greatly err, Drost Peter. You know our brave and trusty countrymen better. I often see and converse with the poorest and humblest of them. They speak openly and impatiently of their burdens, and, in their language, do not spare the great and powerful. They are not afraid to utter the boldest truths, even as regards the king and his favourites; but, when I speak to them of the crown and kingdom, with the view of ascertaining their opinions respecting an illegally imposed king, you should see how readily they forget their own grievances, and how uprightly they express their devoted attachment to the ancient, legitimate, royal family. It is true that, when jesting, they often find great amus.e.m.e.nt in figurative language, and in befooling each other with old proverbs, and suchlike; but this good-natured sort of waggishness I rather admire, and certainly think there is nothing wrong in it."

"I do not blame that which is so natural to the people, and, in a manner, born with them," replied Drost Peter. "None of us are entirely free from it," he added. "We have both, perhaps, to-day, n.o.ble Jomfru Inge, and even at this very hour, concealed what we know, and avoided the truth, to spare ourselves or others, without having said an untrue word."

Lady Inge blushed. "Every one has a right to do so," she said, earnestly. "What I will not and ought not to say, no power on earth shall compel me to speak. If we could not be veracious and upright, without telling everything we know, there would be few honest men in existence. You shall judge between us, good Cecilia," she continued, turning playfully to her relation, who had hitherto been a silent listener. "Think you Drost Peter himself is so upright, that he would tell us truly, were we to ask him, which colour he esteems most highly?"

"We need not ask him that," replied Cecilia: "the colour you now wear in your hairband, is that worn by the drost--last year, at least."

Drost Peter blushed deeply. "I wore it last year, because it was the queen's colour," he replied. "I won the right to do so at the Helsingborg tourney. But for twelve months before last May I have not worn it; although it has, since then, become dearer to me than ever. I fancy I have known from my childhood that crimson band, with the small pearl-lilies, and it is the only band I would suffer to bind me prisoner; but were Jomfru Inge even now to present me with it, I dare not openly wear it. The reason, too, must remain a secret."

Lady Inge had hastily raised her hand to the crimson fillet, as if she would remove it; but, on hearing Drost Peter's latter words, she only secured it more firmly, and changed the conversation to another subject.

"Look at my handsome, watchful bird," she said, merrily. "Had Hamlet possessed him, he would certainly have known how to make use of him."

As she said this, she patted a large tame fowl that had flown towards her, alarmed, as it appeared, by Claus Skirmen, who was in search of his master, to inform him, as he had been ordered, of the state of the wind.

Drost Peter paid no attention to his squire's announcement. He praised the n.o.ble bird, and looked at his mistress with a singularly blended sentiment of joy and melancholy, while many fond memories of childhood flitted across his soul, and mingled with his feelings of the present moment. It almost seemed to him as if he were in a dream, and that the knight's tall, fair daughter was again changed into the child-bride of former days.

In the meantime Sir John, with his wife, was leisurely approaching the knoll. He stopped, and gazed at the young man on the green strand-height. "A fine, brave, excellent young man," he said, pointing to Drost Peter; "he is quite another drost than Sir Abildgaard. Our Cecilia's interest in that subtle knight does not please me. The suspicions that have attached to him, since his imprisonment, ought to have cured her of her whimsy. Has she not determined yet?"

"Your silence has made her anxious," replied the mother, with concern; "and, without your consent, she gives him no decisive answer."

"She is free; but from me, she shall not hear a syllable on the matter.

What I think of him, she well knows."

"Then she never becomes Drost Abildgaard's wife. G.o.d strengthen her!"

"Drost Peter takes his time," interrupted Sir John, hastily.

"His childhood's bride no longer hates him," replied Fru Ingefried; "he does not delay thus merely on account of the wind."

Sir John cast a look at the vane on the turret. "You are right," he observed: "we must away. If our good Drost Peter means to jest with us, he shall have the worst of it."

They were now close to the knoll.

"Drost Peter!" shouted Sir John, "the wind is fair, and we are ready to set sail. If you will with us, come quickly." Whereupon, the old gentleman hastily returned to the garden-hall, and the whole company followed him.

When Sir John entered the great hall, he found the learned chancellor alone, deeply engrossed in a small, neat ma.n.u.script.

"Up to the ears in study again?" said Sir John. "Is that your Logica?"

"Nay, nay, n.o.ble sir," exclaimed the learned chancellor, as his eyes sparkled with almost youthful liveliness. "See, here I have found some of the glorious old Danish ballads I heard in my childhood, besides many excellent national ones I never knew of. Your cousin, the commandant, must be a brave, patriotic-souled man, and well versed in our old legends and histories. There are some capital notes in the margin of the songs; and here, of a truth, pour living fountains from the people themselves.

"That is brave!" exclaimed Sir John, with singular interest: "that is more than I could have imagined of my good sir cousin, and I like him all the better. The ballads themselves may be pretty enough. I do not understand much of these wares; but, when they are sung, I listen to them willingly. One half of these ballads are fictions and fables, I doubt not; but their intention is good, and they must have been a brave Danish people who made them."

Jomfru Inge, with the other ladies and Drost Peter, now entered.

"Ingelil, child," called Sir John to her, "when did thy father become so learned, and take such pleasure in old songs and ballads? Formerly, he could never endure them."

"It is not my father's--it is my own little song-book," replied Lady Inge. "My blessed mother wrote many of them."

"And the glosses--the marginal notes?" inquired Master Martinus.

"Oh, nothing more than what I heard from my old spinning-women, and what I sometimes thought of myself."

At this discovery, Master Martinus seemed almost to blush at his zeal for a work that he had only women and unlettered lay-people to thank for; but his true attachment to the ancient ballads overcame this shock to his learned pride, and he grasped Jomfru Inge's hand warmly, while he returned her the ma.n.u.script. "You have rejoiced my soul, n.o.ble lady," he said, much affected; "and I could almost, in exchange for this unlearned feminine ma.n.u.script, give you my own sufficiently well-known work, _De Modis Significandi_."

"Such an exchange the girl would not much desire," said Sir John, interrupting him. "But where is thy father, Ingelil? We must bid him farewell, and get on board immediately."

"I will seek him," answered Inge, as she went hastily away.

"The commandant is in his closet, in conversation with a good friend,"

said Master Martin: "I had forgotten him, over the book. He is travelling in great haste."

"Do you know this good friend?" inquired Sir John, with apparent indifference.

"I must relinquish this," replied the chancellor, in a half-absent manner, and still keeping his eye on the ma.n.u.script, which Lady Inge had laid on the table. "He wore his visor down: it was a warlike figure."

"A masked warrior?" inquired Sir John, attentively.

"Probably, a coast-guardsman," answered the chancellor. "In a royal castle, one is always in a state of war. The commandant seems to be as cautious as he is vigilant; and I do not blame him, that, in these troublous times, he should avail himself of spies and disguised servitors."

Jomfru Inge had now returned. She was deadly pale, and sought in vain to conceal her deep anguish and embarra.s.sment. "My father," she said, with half-choked utterance--"my father will be here immediately."

Drost Peter, alarmed, advanced a step or two towards her, with an expression of deep concern; but he paused and was silent, as he suddenly guessed the cause of her perplexity.

"What ails thee, my child?" demanded Sir John, with an uneasy inquiring look. "Thou hast run too fast," he added, considerately, giving her time to answer.

"I am not quite well," she answered, as she supported herself by a chair. "He will come immediately: I have sent a message to him."

"He is engaged officially, I hear, and we will not disturb him. Salute him, and say we were in haste. G.o.d bless thee, child! Come, gentlemen."

Anger and deep sorrow were visible in the countenance of the old knight, and, as he regarded the pale Lady Inge, a tear stole into his eye; but in another moment he was again calm, as usual. "See, here we have the vigilant sir commandant still," he said, in his customary lively tone, as Sir Lave opened the door, and entered with a constrained but smiling countenance. "No excuses, cousin," added Sir John: "the king's service takes precedence of every other. We must, therefore, in all haste bid you farewell."

"Already, sir counsellor!" stammered Sir Lave: "I thought the wind--"

"We have not the most favourable wind, if your weatherc.o.c.k may be depended on," replied the old gentleman; "but I fear a person would be misled, were he to depend upon that. I go by the king's yacht; and I know that vessel can make head against a contrary wind tolerably well.

I understand a little of sailing, too; and we have, moreover, a good steersman in Drost Peter. Farewell."

These apparently indifferent words, which the old counsellor p.r.o.nounced with a peculiar emphasis, had to Sir Lave a serious and fearful signification, that deprived him of the power of utterance. He bowed civilly, though with embarra.s.sment, as he followed his guests to the door. Old John once more gave his hand to Jomfru Inge, with a warmth and heartiness unusual in him. Drost Peter bowed to her with a look that carried comfort to her soul; and Master Martinus again thanked her for the pleasure her songbook had yielded him. Fru Ingefried and Lady Cecilia, like the worthy chancellor, seemed to have no idea of the cause of her indisposition. The ladies, however, would not permit her to follow them to the door; and having embraced her with hearty affection, the mother, with kind solicitude, gave her all the domestic remedies she could think of, for sudden depression of spirits.

Scarcely had they left the door, before Lady Inge burst into a flood of tears, and sank into a chair, with her hands before her eyes. She sat thus, immovable, for some minutes. When she took her hands from her eyes, her father stood before her.