He was the son of a
lady whom Margaret had loved with almost sisterly affection, and the
presence of Arthur continued to excite in the dethroned queen the same
feelings of maternal tenderness which they had awakened on their first
meeting in the Cathedral of Strasburg. She raised him as he kneeled at
her feet, spoke to him with much kindness, and encouraged him to
detail at full length his father's message, and such other news as his
brief residence at Dijon had made him acquainted with.
* * * * *
As she spoke, she sunk down as one who needs rest, on a stone-seat
placed on the very verge of the balcony, regardless of the storm,
which now began to rise with dreadful gusts of wind, the course of
which being intermitted and altered by the crags round which they
howled, it seemed as if in very deed Boreas, and Eurus, and Caurus,
unchaining the winds from every quarter of heaven, were contending for
mastery around the convent of our Lady of Victory. Amid this tumult,
and amid billows of mist which concealed the bottom of the precipice,
and masses of clouds which racked tearfully over their heads, the roar
of the descending waters rather resembled the fall of cataracts than
the rushing of torrents of rain. The seat on which Margaret had placed
herself was in a considerable degree sheltered from the storm, but its
eddies, varying in every direction, often tossed aloft her dishevelled
hair; and we cannot describe the appearance of her noble and
beautiful, yet ghastly and wasted features, agitated strongly by
anxious hesitation, and conflicting thoughts, unless to those of our
readers who have had the advantage of having seen our inimitable
Siddons in such a character as this.
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