"I wronged him, I wronged him grievously," answered Sir Thomas. "That wretch of a woman at The Hague never paid him a farthing, never even saw him. She intended to rob me and slay him for a thousand pounds, but under question of the law she confessed her crime."
"I hope she is hung for it," said Lady Jevery.
"She is ruined, and in prison for life--but that brings not back poor Neville."
"I think robbery and murder. Some one has known, or suspected, that he had treasure with him. He has been followed and assassinated, or he has fought and been killed. Somewhere within fifty miles of Paris he lies in a bloody, unknown grave; and little Jane Swaffham is slowly dying of grief and cruel suspense. She loves him, and they were betrothed."
There was a short silence, and then Matilda said, "Jane was not kind to poor Stephen. He loved her all his life, and yet she put Lord Neville before him. As for Neville, the nobility of the sword carry their lives in their hands. That is understood. Many brave young lords have gone out from home and friends these past years, and never come back. Is Neville's life worth more than my brother's life, than thousands of other lives? I trow not!"
But in the privacy of her room she could not preserve this temper. "I wonder if Rupert slew him," she muttered. And anon--
"He had money and jewels, and the King and his poverty-stricken court cry, 'Give, give,' constantly.
"He would think it no wrong--only a piece of good luck.
"He might also be jealous of Cluny. I spoke often of the youth's beauty--I did that out of simple mischief--but Rupert is touchy, sometimes cruel--always eager for gold. Poor Jane!"
Then she put her hand to her breast. The portrait of Prince Rupert that had lain there for so many years was not in its place. She was not astonished; very often lately she had either forgotten it, or intentionally refused to wear it. And Stephen's assertion that failure was written on all Rupert touched had found its echo in her heart. When she dressed herself to secure the warrant, she purposely took off Rupert's picture and put it in her jewel box. She went there now to look for it, and the haunting melancholy of the dark face made her shiver. "Stephen told me the very truth," she thought. "He has been my evil genius as well as the King's. While his picture has been on my heart, I have seen all I love vanish away." A kind of terror made her close her eyes; she would not meet Rupert's sorrow-haunted gaze, though it was only painted. She felt as if to do so was to court misfortune, and though the old love tugged at her very life, she lifted one tray and then another tray of her jewel case, and laid Prince Rupert under them both.