The Primate, who was sensible he had himself occasioned De Lacy's
breach of contract, felt himself bound in honour and reputation to
prevent consequences so disagreeable to his friend, as the
dissolution of an engagement in which his interest and
inclinations were alike concerned. He reproved the Lady Abbess for
the carnal and secular views which she, a dignitary of the church,
entertained upon the subject of matrimony, and concerning the
interest of her house. He even upbraided her with selfishly
preferring the continuation of the line of Berenger to the
recovery of the Holy Sepulchre, and denounced to her that Heaven
would be avenged of the shortsighted and merely human policy,
which postponed the interests of Christendom to those of an
individual family.

After this severe homily, the Prelate took his departure, leaving
the Abbess highly incensed, though she prudently forbore returning
any irreverent answer to his paternal admonition.

In this humour the venerable lady was found by the Constable
himself, when with some embarrassment, he proceeded to explain to
her the necessity of his present departure for Palestine.

She received the communication with sullen dignity; her ample
black robe and scapular seeming, as it were, to swell out in yet
prouder folds as she listened to the reasons and the emergencies
which compelled the Constable of Chester to defer the marriage
which he avowed was the dearest wish of his heart, until after his
return from the Crusade, for which he was about to set forth.

"Methinks," replied the Abbess, with much coldness, "if this
communication is meant for earnest,--and it were no fit business--
I myself no fit person,--for jesting with--methinks the
Constable's resolution should have been proclaimed to us yesterday
before the _fiancailles_ had united his troth with that of
Eveline Berenger, under expectations very different from those
which he now announces."

"On the word of a knight and a gentleman, reverend lady," said the
Constable, "I had not then the slightest thought that I should be
called upon to take a step no less distressing to me, than, as I
see with pain, it is unpleasing to you."

"I can scarcely conceive," replied the Abbess, "the cogent
reasons, which, existing as they must have done yesterday, have
nevertheless delayed their operation until to-day."

"I own," said De Lacy, reluctantly, "that I entertained too ready
hopes of obtaining a remission from my vow, which my Lord of
Canterbury hath, in his zeal for Heaven's service, deemed it
necessary to refuse me."

"At least, then," said the Abbess, veiling her resentment under
the appearance of extreme coldness, "your lordship will do us the
justice to place us in the same situation in which we stood
yesterday morning; and, by joining with my niece and her friends
in desiring the abrogation of a marriage contract, entered into
with very different views from those which you now entertain, put
a young person in that state of liberty of which she is at present
deprived by her contract with you."

"Ah, madam!" said the Constable, "what do you ask of me? and in a
tone how cold and indifferent do you demand me to resign hopes,
the dearest which my bosom ever entertained since the life-blood
warmed it!"

"I am unacquainted with language belonging to such feelings, my
lord," replied the Abbess; "but methinks the prospects which could
be so easily adjourned for years, might, by a little, and a very
little, farther self-control, be altogether abandoned."

Hugo de Lacy paced the room in agitation, nor did he answer until
after a considerable pause. "If your niece, madam, shares the
sentiments which you have expressed, I could not, indeed, with
justice to her, or perhaps to myself, desire to retain that
interest in her, which our solemn espousals have given me. But I
must know my doom from her own lips; and if it is as severe as
that which your expressions lead me to fear, I will go to
Palestine the better soldier of Heaven, that I shall have little
left on earth that can interest me."

The Abbess, without farther answer, called on her Praecentrix, and
desired her to command her niece's attendance immediately. The
Praecentrix bowed reverently, and withdrew.

"May I presume to inquire," said De Lacy, "whether the Lady
Eveline hath been possessed of the circumstances which have
occasioned this unhappy alteration in my purpose?"

"I have communicated the whole to her from point to point," said
the Abbess, "even as it was explained to me this morning by my
Lord of Canterbury, (for with him I have already spoken upon the
subject,) and confirmed but now by your lordship's own mouth."

"I am little obliged to the Archbishop," said the Constable, "for
having forestalled my excuses in the quarter where it was most
important for me that they should be accurately stated, and
favourably received."

"That," said the Abbess, "is but an item of the account betwixt
you and the Prelate,--it concerns not us."

"Dare I venture to hope," continued De Lacy, without taking
offence at the dryness of the Abbess's manner, "that Lady Eveline
has heard this most unhappy change of circumstances without
emotion,--I would say, without displeasure?"

"She is the daughter of a Berenger, my lord," answered the Abbess,
"and it is our custom to punish a breach of faith or to contemn
it--never to grieve over it. What my niece may do in this case, I
know not. I am a woman of religion, sequestered from the world,
and would advise peace and Christian forgiveness, with a proper
sense of contempt for the unworthy treatment which she has
received. She has followers and vassals, and friends, doubtless,
and advisers, who may not, in blinded zeal for worldly honour,
recommend to her to sit down slightly with this injury, but desire
she should rather appeal to the King, or to the arms of her
father's followers, unless her liberty is restored to her by the
surrender of the contract into which she has been enticed.--But
she comes, to answer for herself."

Eveline entered at the moment, leaning on Rose's arm. She had laid
aside mourning since the ceremony of the _fiancailles_, and
was dressed in a kirtle of white, with an upper robe of pale blue.
Her head was covered with a veil of white gauze, so thin, as to
float about her like the misty cloud usually painted around the
countenance of a seraph. But the face of Eveline, though in beauty
not unworthy one of that angelic order, was at present far from
resembling that of a seraph in tranquillity of expression. Her
limbs trembled, her cheeks were pale, the tinge of red around the
eyelids expressed recent tears; yet amidst these natural signs of
distress and uncertainty, there was an air of profound
resignation--a resolution to discharge her duty in every emergence
reigning in the solemn expression of her eye and eyebrow, and
showing her prepared to govern the agitation which she could not
entirely subdue. And so well were these opposing qualities of
timidity and resolution mingled on her cheek, that Eveline, in the
utmost pride of her beauty, never looked more fascinating than at
that instant; and Hugo de Lacy, hitherto rather an unimpassioned
lover, stood in her presence with feelings as if all the
exaggerations of romance were realized, and his mistress were a
being of a higher sphere, from whose doom he was to receive
happiness or misery, life or death.

It was under the influence of such a feeling, that the warrior
dropped on one knee before Eveline, took the hand which she rather
resigned than gave to him, pressed it to his lips fervently, and,
ere he parted with it, moistened it with one of the few tears
which he was ever known to shed. But, although surprised, and
carried out of his character by a sudden impulse, he regained his
composure on observing that the Abbess regarded his humiliation,
if it can be so termed, with an air of triumph; and he entered on
his defence before Eveline with a manly earnestness, not devoid of
fervour, nor free from agitation, yet made in a tone of firmness
and pride, which seemed assumed to meet and control that of the
offended Abbess.

"Lady," he said, addressing Eveline, "you have heard from the
venerable Abbess in what unhappy position I have been placed since
yesterday by the rigour of the Archbishop--perhaps I should rather
say by his just though severe interpretation of my engagement in
the Crusade. I cannot doubt that all this has been stated with
accurate truth by the venerable lady; but as I must no longer call
her my friend, let me fear whether she has done me justice in her
commentary upon the unhappy necessity which must presently compel
me to leave my country, and with my country to forego--at best to
postpone--the fairest hopes which man ever entertained. The
venerable lady hath upbraided me, that being myself the cause that
the execution of yesterday's contract is postponed, I would fain
keep it suspended over your head for an indefinite term of years.
No one resigns willingly such rights as yesterday gave me; and,
let me speak a boastful word, sooner than yield them up to man of
woman born, I would hold a fair field against all comers, with
grinded sword and sharp spear, from sunrise to sunset, for three
days' space. But what I would retain at the price of a thousand
lives, I am willing to renounce if it would cost you a single
sigh. If, therefore, you think you cannot remain happy as the
betrothed of De Lacy, you may command my assistance to have the
contract annulled, and make some more fortunate man happy."

He would have gone on, but felt the danger of being overpowered
again by those feelings of tenderness so new to his steady
nature, that he blushed to give way to them.

Eveline remained silent. The Abbess took the word. "Kinswoman,"
she said, "you hear that the generosity--or the justice--of the
Constable of Chester, proposes, in consequence of his departure
upon a distant and perilous expedition, to cancel a contract
entered into upon the specific and precise understanding that he
was to remain in England for its fulfilment. You cannot, methinks,
hesitate to accept of the freedom which he offers you, with thanks
for his bounty. For my part, I will reserve mine own, until I
shall see that your joint application is sufficient to win to your
purpose his Grace of Canterbury, who may again interfere with the
actions of his friend the Lord Constable, over whom he has already
exerted so much influence--for the weal, doubtless, of his
spiritual concerns."

"If it is meant by your words, venerable lady," said the
Constable, "that I have any purpose of sheltering myself behind
the Prelate's authority, to avoid doing that which I proclaim my
readiness, though not my willingness, to do, I can only say, that
you are the first who has doubted the faith of Hugo de Lacy."--And
while the proud Baron thus addressed a female and a recluse, he
could not prevent his eye from sparkling, and his cheek from
flushing.

"My gracious and venerable kinswoman," said Eveline, summoning
together her resolution, "and you, my kind lord, be not offended
if I pray you not to increase by groundless suspicions and hasty
resentments your difficulties and mine. My lord, the obligations
which I lie under to you are such as I can never discharge, since
they comprehend fortune, life, and honour. Know that, in my
anguish of mind, when besieged by the Welsh in my castle of the
Garde Doloureuse, I vowed to the Virgin, that (my honour safe) I
would place myself at the disposal of him whom our Lady should
employ as her instrument to relieve me from yonder hour of agony.
In giving me a deliverer, she gave me a master; nor could I desire
a more noble one than Hugo de Lacy."

"God forbid, lady," said the Constable, speaking eagerly, as if he
was afraid his resolution should fail ere he could get the
renunciation uttered, "that I should, by such a tie, to which you
subjected yourself in the extremity of your distress, bind you to
any resolution in my favour which can put force on your own
inclinations!"

The Abbess herself could not help expressing her applause of this
sentiment, declaring it was spoken like a Norman gentleman; but at
the same time, her eyes, turned towards her niece, seemed to
exhort her to beware how she declined to profit by the candour of
De Lacy.

But Eveline proceeded, with her eyes fixed on the ground, and a
slight colour overspreading her face, to state her own sentiments,
without listening to the suggestions of any one. "I will own,
noble sir," she said, "that when your valour had rescued me from
approaching destruction, I could have wished--honouring and
respecting you, as I had done your late friend, my excellent
father--that you could have accepted a daughter's service from me.
I do not pretend entirely to have surmounted these sentiments,
although I have combated them, as being unworthy of me, and
ungrateful to you. But, from the moment you were pleased to honour
me by a claim on this poor hand, I have studiously examined my
sentiments towards you, and taught myself so far to make them
coincide with my duty, that I may call myself assured that De Lacy
would not find in Eveline Berenger an indifferent, far less an
unworthy bride. In this, sir, you may boldly confide, whether the
union you have sought for takes place instantly, or is delayed
till a longer season. Still farther, I must acknowledge that the
postponement of these nuptials will be more agreeable to me than
their immediate accomplishment. I am at present very young, and
totally inexperienced. Two or three years will, I trust, render me
yet more worthy the regard of a man of honour."

At this declaration in his favour, however cold and qualified, De
Lacy had as much difficulty to restrain his transports as formerly
to moderate his agitation.

"Angel of bounty and of kindness!" he said, kneeling once more,
and again possessing himself of her hand, "perhaps I ought in
honour to resign voluntarily those hopes which you decline to
ravish from me forcibly. But who could be capable of such
unrelenting magnanimity?--Let me hope that my devoted attachment--
that which you shall hear of me when at a distance--that which you
shall know of me when near you--may give to your sentiments a more
tender warmth than they now express; and, in the meanwhile, blame
me not that I accept your plighted faith anew, under the
conditions which you attach to it. I am conscious my wooing has
been too late in life to expect the animated returns proper to
youthful passion--Blame me not if I remain satisfied with those
calmer sentiments which make life happy, though they cannot make
possession rapturous. Your hand remains In my grasp, but it
acknowledges not my pressure--Can it be that it refuses to ratify
what your lips have said?"

"Never, noble De Lacy!" said Eveline, with more animation than she
had yet expressed; and it appeared that the tone was at length
sufficiently encouraging, since her lover was emboldened to take
the lips themselves for guarantee.

It was with an air of pride, mingled with respect, that, after
having received this pledge of fidelity, he turned to conciliate
and to appease the offended Abbess. "I trust, venerable mother,"
he said, "that you will resume your former kind thoughts of me,
which I am aware were only interrupted by your tender anxiety for
the interest of her who should be dearest to us both. Let me hope
that I may leave this fair flower under protection of the honoured
lady who is her nest in blood, happy and secure as she must ever
be, while listening to your counsels, and residing within these
sacred walls."

But the Abbess was too deeply displeased to be propitiated by a
compliment, which perhaps it had been better policy to have
delayed till a calmer season. "My lord," she said, "and you, fair
kinswoman, you ought needs to be aware how little my counsels--not
frequently given where they are unwillingly listened to--can be of
avail to those embarked in worldly affairs. I am a woman dedicated
to religion, to solitude, and seclusion--to the service, in brief,
of Our Lady and Saint Benedict. I have been already censured by my
superior because I have, for love of you, fair niece, mixed more
deeply in secular affairs than became the head of a convent of
recluses--I will merit no farther blame on such an account; nor
can you expect it of me. My brother's daughter, unfettered by
worldly ties, had been the welcome sharer of my poor solicitude.
But this house is too mean for the residence of the vowed bride of
a mighty baron; nor do I, in my lowliness and inexperience, feel
fitness to exercise over such an one that authority, which must
belong to me over every one whom this roof protects. The grave
tenor of our devotions, and the serener contemplation to which the
females of this house are devoted," continued the Abbess, with
increasing heat and vehemence, "shall not, for the sake of my
worldly connections, be disturbed by the intrusion of one whose
thoughts must needs be on the worldly toys of love and marriage."

"I do indeed believe, reverend mother," said the Constable, in his
turn giving way to displeasure, "that a richly-dowered maiden,
unwedded, and unlikely to wed, were a fitter and more welcome
inmate to the convent, than one who cannot be separated from the
world, and whose wealth is not likely to increase the House's
revenues."

The Constable did the Abbess great injury in this hasty
insinuation, and it only went to confirm her purpose of rejecting
all charge of her niece during his absence. She was in truth as
disinterested as haughty; and her only reason for anger against
her niece was, that her advice had not been adopted without
hesitation, although the matter regarded Eveline's happiness
exclusively.

The ill-timed reflection of the Constable confirmed her in the
resolution which she had already, and hastily adopted. "May Heaven
forgive you, Sir Knight," she replied, "your injurious thoughts of
His servants! It is indeed time, for your soul's sake, that you do
penance in the Holy Land, having such rash judgments to repent
of.--For you, my niece, you cannot want that hospitality, which,
without verifying, or seeming to verify, unjust suspicions, I
cannot now grant to you, while you have, in your kinswoman of
Baldringham, a secular relation, whose nearness of blood
approaches mine, and who may open her gates to you without
incurring the unworthy censure, that she means to enrich herself
at your cost."

The Constable saw the deadly paleness which, came over Eveline's
cheek at this proposal, and, without knowing the cause of her
repugnance, he hastened to relieve her from the apprehensions
which she seemed evidently to entertain. "No, reverend mother," he
said, "since _you_ so harshly reject the care of your
kinswoman, she shall not be a burden to any of her other
relatives. While Hugo de Lacy hath six gallant castles, and many a
manor besides, to maintain fire upon their hearths, his betrothed
bride shall burden no one with her society, who may regard it as
otherwise than a great honour; and methinks I were much poorer
than Heaven hath made me, could I not furnish friends and
followers sufficient to serve, obey, and protect her."

"No, my lord," said Eveline, recovering from the dejection into
which she had been thrown by the unkindness of her relative;
"since some unhappy destiny separates me from the protection of my
father's sister, to whom I could so securely have resigned myself,
I will neither apply for shelter to any more distant relation, nor
accept of that which you, my lord, so generously offer; since my
doing so might excite harsh, and, I am sure, undeserved
reproaches, against her by whom I was driven to choose a less
advisable dwelling-place. I have made my resolution. I have, it is
true, only one friend left, but she is a powerful one, and is able
to protect me against the particular evil fate which seems to
follow me, as well as against the ordinary evils of human life."

"The Queen, I suppose?" said the Abbess, interrupting her
impatiently.

"The Queen of Heaven! venerable kinswoman," answered Eveline; "our
Lady of the Garde Doloureuse, ever gracious to our house, and so
lately my especial guardian and protectress. Methinks, since the
vowed votaress of the Virgin rejects me, it is to her holy
patroness whom I ought to apply for succour."

The venerable dame, taken somewhat at unawares by this answer,
pronounced the interjection "Umph!" in a tone better befitting a
Lollard or an Iconoclast, than a Catholic Abbess, and a daughter
of the House of Berenger. Truth is, the Lady Abbess's hereditary
devotion to the Lady of the Garde Doloureuse was much decayed
since she had known the full merits of another gifted image, the
property of her own convent.

Recollecting herself, however, she remained silent, while the
Constable alleged the vicinity of the Welsh, as what might
possibly again render the abode of his betrothed bride at the
Garde Doloureuse as perilous as she had on a former occasion found
it. To this Eveline replied, by reminding him of the great
strength of her native fortress--the various sieges which it had
withstood--and the important circumstance, that, upon the late
occasion, it was only endangered, because, in compliance with a
point of honour, her father Raymond had sallied out with the
garrison, and fought at disadvantage a battle under the walls. She
farther suggested, that it was easy for the Constable to name,
from among his own vassals or hers, a seneschal of such approved
prudence and valour, as might ensure the safety of the place, and
of its lady.

Ere De Lacy could reply to her arguments the Abbess rose, and,
pleading her total inability to give counsel in secular affairs,
and the rules of her order, which called her, as she said, with a
heightened colour and raised voice, "to the simple and peaceful
discharge of her conventual duties," she left the betrothed
parties in the locutory, or parlour, without any company, save
Rose, who prudently remained at some distance.

The issue of their private conference seemed agreeable to both;
and when Eveline told Rose that they were to return presently to
the Garde Doloureuse, under a sufficient escort, and were to
remain there during the period of the Crusade, it was in a tone of
heartfelt satisfaction, which her follower had not heard her make
use of for many days. She spoke also highly in praise of the kind
acquiescence of the Constable in her wishes, and of his whole
conduct, with a warmth of gratitude approaching to a more tender
feeling.

"And yet, my dearest lady," said Rose, "if you will speak
unfeignedly, you must, I am convinced, allow that you look upon
this interval of years, interposed betwixt your contract and your
marriage, rather as a respite than in any other light."

"I confess it," said Eveline, "nor have I concealed from, my
future lord that such are my feelings, ungracious as they may
seem. But it is my youth, Rose, my extreme youth, which makes me
fear the duties of De Lacy's wife. Then those evil auguries hang
strangely about me. Devoted to evil by one kinswoman, expelled
almost from the roof of another, I seem to myself, at present, a
creature who must carry distress with her, pass where she will.
This evil hour, and, what is more, the apprehensions of it, will
give way to time. When I shall have attained the age of twenty,
Rose, I shall be a full-grown woman, with all the soul of a
Berenger strong within me, to overcome those doubts and tremors
which agitate the girl of seventeen."

"Ah! my sweet mistress," answered Rose, "may God and our Lady of
the Garde Doloureuse guide all for the best!--But I would that this
contract had not taken place, or, having taken place, that it
could have been fulfilled by your immediate union."




CHAPTER THE TWENTIETH


   The Kiugr call'd down his merry men all,
   By one, and by two, and three;
   Earl Marshal was wont to be the foremost man,
   But the hindmost man was he.
   OLD BALLAD.


If the Lady Eveline retired satisfied and pleased from her private
interview with De Lacy, the joy on the part of the Constable rose
to a higher pitch of rapture than he was in the habit of feeling
or expressing; and it was augmented by a visit of the leeches who
attended his nephew, from whom he received a minute and particular
account of his present disorder, with every assurance of a speedy
recovery.

The Constable caused alms to be distributed to the convents and to
the poor, masses to be said, and tapers to be lighted. He visited
the Archbishop, and received from him his full approbation of the
course which he proposed to pursue, with the promise, that out of
the plenary power which he held from the Pope, the Prelate was
willing, in consideration of his instant obedience, to limit his
stay in the Holy Land to the term of three years, to become
current from his leaving Britain, and to include the space
necessary for his return to his native country. Indeed, having
succeeded in the main point, the Archbishop judged it wise to
concede every inferior consideration to a person of the
Constable's rank and character, whose good-will to the proposed
expedition was perhaps as essential to its success as his bodily
presence.

In short, the Constable returned to his pavilion highly satisfied
with the manner in which he had extricated himself from those
difficulties which in the morning seemed almost insuperable; and
when his officers assembled to disrobe him, (for great feudal
lords had their levees and couchees, in imitation of sovereign
princes,) he distributed gratuities amongst them, and jested and
laughed in a much gayer humour than they had ever before
witnessed.

"For thee," he said, turning to Vidal the minstrel, who,
sumptuously dressed, stood to pay his respects among the other
attendants, "I will give thee nought at present; but do thou
remain by my bedside until I am asleep, and I will next morning
reward thy minstrelsy as I like it."

"My lord," said Vidal, "I am already rewarded, both by the honour,
and by the liveries, which better befit a royal minstrel than one
of my mean fame; but assign me a subject, and I will do my best,
not out of greed of future largess, but gratitude for past
favours."

"Gramercy, good fellow," said the Constable. "Guarine," he added,
addressing his squire, "let the watch be posted, and do thou
remain within the tent--stretch thyself on the bear-hide, and
sleep, or listen to the minstrelsy, as thou likest best. Thou
thinkest thyself a judge, I have heard, of such gear."

It was usual, in those insecure times, for some faithful domestic
to sleep at night within the tent of every great baron, that, if
danger arose, he might not be unsupported or unprotected. Guarine
accordingly drew his sword, and, taking it in his hand, stretched
himself on the ground in such a manner, that, on the slightest
alarm, he could spring up, sword in hand. His broad black eyes, in
which sleep contended with a desire to listen to the music, were
fixed on Vidal, who saw them glittering in the reflection of the
silver lamp, like those of a dragon or a basilisk.

After a few preliminary touches on the chords of his rote, the
minstrel requested of the Constable to name the subject on which
he desired the exercise of his powers.

"The truth of woman," answered Hugo de Lacy, as he laid his head
upon his pillow.

After a short prelude, the minstrel obeyed, by singing nearly as
follows:--

   "Woman's faith, and woman's trust--
   Write the characters in dust;
   Stamp them on the running stream,
   Print them on the moon's pale best,
   And each evanescent letter,
   Shall be clearer, firmer, better,
   And more permanent, I ween,
   Than the thing those letters mean.

   I have strain'd the spider's thread
   'Gainst the promise of a maid;
   I have weigh'd a grain of sand
   'Gainst her plight of heart and hand;
   I told my true love of the token,
   How her faith proved light, and her word was broken
   Again her word and truth she plight,
   And I believed them again ere night."

"How now, sir knave," said the Constable, raising himself on his
elbow, from what drunken rhymer did you learn that half-witted
satire?"

"From an old, ragged, crossgrained friend of mine, called
Experience," answered Vidal. "I pray Heaven, he may never take
your lordship, or any other worthy man, under his tuition."

"Go to, fellow," said the Constable, in reply; "thou art one of
those wiseacres, I warrant me, that would fain be thought witty,
because thou canst make a jest of those things which wiser men
hold worthy of most worship-the honour of men, and the truth of
women. Dost thou call thyself a minstrel, and hast no tale of
female fidelity?"

"I had right many a one, noble sir, but I laid them aside when I
disused my practice of the jesting part of the Joyous Science.
Nevertheless, if it pleases your nobleness to listen, I can sing
you an established lay upon such a subject."

De Lacy made a sign of acquiescence, and laid himself as if to
slumber; while Vidal began one of those interminable and almost
innumerable adventures concerning that paragon of true lovers,
fair Ysolte; and of the constant and uninterrupted faith and
affection which she displayed in numerous situations of difficulty
and peril, to her paramour, the gallant Sir Tristrem, at the
expense of her less favoured husband, the luckless King Mark of
Cornwall; to whom, as all the world knows, Sir Tristrem was
nephew.

This was not the lay of love and fidelity which De Lacy would have
chosen; but a feeling like shame prevented his interrupting it,
perhaps because he was unwilling to yield to or acknowledge the
unpleasing sensations excited by the tenor of the tale. He soon
fell asleep, or feigned to do so; and the harper, continuing for a
time his monotonous chant, began at length himself to feel the
influence of slumber; his words, and the notes which he continued
to touch upon the harp, were broken and interrupted, and seemed to
escape drowsily from his fingers and voice. At length the sounds
ceased entirely, and the minstrel seemed to have sunk into
profound repose, with his head reclining on his breast, and one
arm dropped down by his side, while the other rested on his harp.
His slumber, however, was not very long, and when he awoke from
it, and cast his eyes around him, reconnoitering, by the light of
the night-lamp, whatever was in the tent, he felt a heavy hand,
which pressed his shoulder as if gently to solicit his attention.
At the same time the voice of the vigilant Philip Guarine
whispered in his ear, "Thine office for the night is ended--depart
to thine own quarters with all the silence thou mayst."

The minstrel wrapt himself in his cloak without reply, though
perhaps not without feeling some resentment at a dismissal so
unceremonious.




CHAPTER THE TWENTY-FIRST.


  Oh! then I see Queen Mab has been with you.
    ROMEO AND JULIET.


The subject on which the mind has last been engaged at night is
apt to occupy our thoughts even during slumber, when Imagination,
uncorrected by the organs of sense, weaves her own fantastic web
out of whatever ideas rise at random in the sleeper. It is not
surprising, therefore, that De Lacy in his dreams had some
confused idea of being identified with the unlucky Mark of
Cornwall; and that he awakened from such unpleasant visions with a
brow more clouded than when he was preparing for his couch on the
evening before. He was silent, and seemed lost in thought, while
his squire assisted at his levee with the respect now only paid to
sovereigns. "Guarine," at length he said, "know you the stout
Fleming, who was said to have borne him so well at the siege of
the Garde Doloureuse?--a tall, big, brawny man."

"Surely, my lord," answered his squire; "I know Wilkin Flammock--I
saw him but yesterday."

"Indeed!" replied the Constable--"Here, meanest thou?--In this
city of Gloucester?"

"Assuredly, my good lord. He came hither partly about his
merchandise, partly, I think, to see his daughter Rose, who is in
attendance on the gracious young Lady Eveline."

"He is a stout soldier, is he not?"

"Like most of his kind--a rampart to a castle, but rubbish in the
field," said the Norman squire.

"Faithful, also, is he not?" continued the Constable.

"Faithful as most Flemings, while you can pay for their faith,"
replied Guarine, wondering a little at the unusual interest taken
in one whom he esteemed a being of an inferior order; when, after
some farther inquiries, the Constable ordered the Fleming's
attendance to be presently commanded.

Other business of the morning now occurred, (for his speedy
departure required many arrangements to be hastily adopted,) when,
as the Constable was giving audience to several officers of his
troops, the bulky figure of Wilkin Flammock was seen at the
entrance of the pavilion, in jerkin of white cloth, and having
only a knife by his side.

"Leave the tent, my masters," said De Lacy, "but continue in
attendance in the neighbourhood; for here comes one I must speak
to in private." The officers withdrew, and the Constable and
Fleming were left alone. "You are Wilkin Mammock, who fought well
against the Welsh at the Garde Doloureuse?"

"I did my best, my lord," answered Wilkin--"I was bound to it by my
bargain; and I hope ever to act like a man of credit."

"Methinks" said the Constable, "that you, so stout of limb, and,
as I hear, so bold in spirit, might look a little higher than this
weaving trade of thine."

"No one is reluctant to mend his station, my lord," said Wilkin;
"yet I am so far from complaining of mine, that I would willingly
consent it should never be better, on condition I could be assured
it were never worse."

"Nay, but, Flammock," said the Constable, "I mean higher things
for you than your modesty apprehends--I mean to leave thee in a
charge of great trust."

"Let it concern bales of drapery, my lord, and no one will perform
it better," said the Fleming.

"Away! thou art too lowly minded," said the Constable. "What
think'st thou of being dubbed knight, as thy valour well deserves,
and left as Chattelain of the Garde Doloureuse?"

"For the knighthood, my lord, I should crave your forgiveness; for
it would sit on me like a gilded helmet on a hog. For any charge,
whether of castle or cottage, I trust I might discharge it as well
as another."

"I fear me thy rank must be in some way mended," said the
Constable, surveying the unmilitary dress of the figure before
him; "it is at present too mean to befit the protector and
guardian of a young lady of high birth and rank."

"I the guardian of a young lady of birth and rank!" said Flammock,
his light large eyes turning larger, lighter, and rounder as he
spoke.

"Even thou," said the Constable. "The Lady Eveline proposes to
take up her residence in her castle of the Garde Doloureuse. I
have been casting about to whom I may intrust the keeping of her
person as well as of the stronghold. Were I to choose some knight
of name, as I have many in my household, he would be setting about
to do deeds of vassalage upon the Welsh, and engaging himself in
turmoils, which would render the safety of the castle precarious;
or he would be absent on feats of chivalry, tournaments, and
hunting parties; or he would, perchance, have shows of that light
nature under the walls, or even within the courts of the castle,
turning the secluded and quiet abode, which becomes the situation
of the Lady Eveline, into the misrule of a dissolute revel.--Thee
I can confide in--thou wilt fight when it is requisite, yet wilt
not provoke danger for the sake of danger itself--thy birth, thy
habits, will lead thee to avoid those gaieties, which, however
fascinating to others, cannot but be distasteful to thee--thy
management will be as regular, as I will take care that it shall
be honourable; and thy relation to her favourite, Rose, will
render thy guardianship more agreeable to the Lady Eveline, than,
perchance, one of her own rank--And, to speak to thee a language
which, thy nation readily comprehends, the reward, Fleming, for
the regular discharge of this most weighty trust, shall be beyond
thy most flattering hope."

The Fleming had listened to the first part of this discourse with
an expression of surprise, which gradually gave way to one of deep
and anxious reflection. He gazed fixedly on the earth for a minute
after the Constable had ceased speaking, and then raising up his
eyes suddenly, said, "It is needless to seek for round-about
excuses. This cannot be your earnest, my lord--but if it is, the
scheme is naught."

"How and wherefore?" asked the Constable, with displeased
surprise.

"Another man may grasp at your bounty," continued Wilkin, "and
leave you to take chance of the value you were to receive for it;
but I am a downright dealer, I will not take payment for service I
cannot render."

"But I demand, once more, wherefore thou canst not, or rather wilt
not, accept this trust?" said the Constable. "Surely, if I am
willing to confer such confidence, it is well thy part to answer
it."

"True, my lord," said the Fleming; "but methinks the noble Lord de
Lacy should feel, and the wise Lord de Lacy should foresee, that a
Flemish weaver is no fitting guardian for his plighted bride.
Think her shut up in yonder solitary castle, under such
respectable protection, and reflect how long the place will be
solitary in this land of love and of adventure! We shall have
minstrels singing ballads by the threave under our windows, and
such twangling of harps as would be enough to frighten our walls
from their foundations, as clerks say happened to those of
Jericho--We shall have as many knights-errant around us as ever
had Charlemagne, or King Arthur. Mercy on me! A less matter than a
fine and noble recluse immured--so will they term it--in a tower,
under the guardianship of an old Flemish weaver, would bring half
the chivalry in England round us, to break lances, vow vows,
display love-liveries, and I know not what follies besides.--Think
you such gallants, with the blood flying through their veins like
quicksilver, would much mind _my_ bidding them begone?"

"Draw bolts, up with the drawbridge, drop portcullis," said the
Constable, with a constrained smile.

"And thinks your lordship such gallants would mind these
impediments? such are the very essence of the adventures which
they come to seek.--The Knight of the Swan would swim through the
moat--he of the Eagle would fly over the wails--he of the
Thunderbolt would burst open the gates."

"Ply crossbow and mangonel," said de Lacy.

"And be besieged in form," said the Fleming, "like the Castle of
Tintadgel in the old hangings, all for the love of fair lady?--And
then those gay dames and demoiselles, who go upon adventure from
castle to castle, from tournament to tournament, with bare bosoms,
flaunting plumes, poniards at their sides, and javelins in their
hands, chattering like magpies, and fluttering like jays, and,
ever and anon, cooing like doves--how am I to exclude such from
the Lady Eveline's privacy?"

"By keeping doors shut, I tell thee," answered the Constable,
still in the same tone of forced jocularity; "a wooden bar will be
thy warrant."

"Ay, but," answered Flammock, "if the Flemish weaver say
_shut_, when the Norman young lady says _open_, think
which has best chance of being obeyed. At a word, my lord, for the
matter of guardianship, and such like, I wash my hands of it--I
would not undertake to be guardian to the chaste Susannah, though
she lived in an enchanted castle, which no living thing could
approach."

"Thou holdest the language and thoughts," said De Lacy, "of a
vulgar debauchee, who laughs at female constancy, because he has
lived only with the most worthless of the sex. Yet thou shouldst
know the contrary, having, as I know, a most virtuous daughter--"

"Whose mother was not less so," said Wilkin, breaking in upon the
Constable's speech with somewhat more emotion than he usually
displayed, "But law, my lord, gave me authority to govern and
direct my wife, as both law and nature give me power and charge
over my daughter. That which I can govern, I can be answerable
for; but how to discharge me so well of a delegated trust, is
another question.--Stay at home, my good lord," continued the
honest Fleming, observing that his speech made some impression
upon De Lacy; "let a fool's advice for once be of avail to change
a wise man's purpose, taken, let me say, in no wise hour. Remain
in your own land, rule your own vassals, and protect your own
bride. You only can claim her cheerful love and ready obedience;
and sure I am, that, without pretending to guess what she may do
if separated from you, she will, under your own eye, do the duty
of a faithful and a loving spouse."

"And the Holy Sepulchre?" said the Constable, with a sigh, his
heart confessing the wisdom of the advice, which circumstances
prevented him from following.

"Let those who lost the Holy Sepulchre regain it, my lord,"
replied Flammock. "If those Latins and Greeks, as they call them,
are no better men than I have heard, it signifies very little
whether they or the heathen have the country that has cost Europe
so much blood and treasure." "In good faith," said the Constable,
"there is sense in what thou say'st; but I caution thee to repeat
it not, lest thou be taken for a heretic or a Jew. For me, my word
and oath are pledged beyond retreat, and I have only to consider
whom I may best name for that important station, which thy caution
has--not without some shadow of reason--induced thee to decline."

"There is no man to whom your lordship can so naturally or
honourably transfer such a charge," said Wilkin Flammock, "as to
the kinsman near to you, and possessed of your trust; yet much
better would it be were there no such trust to be reposed in any
one."

"If," said the Constable, "by my near kinsman, you mean Randal de
Lacy, I care not if I tell you, that I consider him as totally
worthless, and undeserving of honourable confidence."

"Nay, I mean another," said Flammock, "nearer to you by blood,
and, unless I greatly mistake, much nigher also in affection--I
had in mind your lordship's nephew, Damian de Lacy."

The Constable started as if a wasp had stung him; but instantly
replied, with forced composure, "Damian was to have gone in my
stead to Palestine--it now seems I must go in his; for, since this
last illness, the leeches have totally changed their minds, and
consider that warmth of the climate as dangerous, which they
formerly decided to be salutary. But our learned doctors, like our
learned priests, must ever be in the right, change their counsels
as they may; and we poor laymen still in the wrong. I can, it is
true, rely on Damian with the utmost confidence; but he is young,
Flammock--very young--and in that particular, resembles but too
nearly the party who might be otherwise committed to his charge."

"Then once more, my lord," said the plain-spoken Fleming, "remain
at home, and be yourself the protector of what is naturally so
dear to you."

"Once more, I repeat, that I cannot," answered the Constable. "The
step which I have adopted as a great duty, may perhaps be a great
error--I only know that it is irretrievable."

"Trust your nephew, then, my lord," replied Wilkin--"he is honest
and true; and it is better trusting young lions than old wolves.
He may err, perhaps, but it will not be from premeditated
treachery."

"Thou art right, Flammock," said the Constable; "and perhaps I
ought to wish I had sooner asked thy counsel, blunt as it is. But
let what has passed be a secret betwixt us; and bethink thee of
something that may advantage thee more than the privilege of
speaking about my affairs."

"That account will be easily settled, my lord," replied Flammock;
"for my object was to ask your lordship's favour to obtain certain
extensions of our privileges, in yonder wild corner where we
Flemings have made our retreat."

"Thou shalt have them, so they be not exorbitant," said the
Constable. And the honest Fleming, among whose good qualities
scrupulous delicacy was not the foremost, hastened to detail, with
great minuteness, the particulars of his request or petition, long
pursued in vain, but to which this interview was the means of
insuring success.

The Constable, eager to execute the resolution which he had
formed, hastened to the lodging of Damian de Lacy, and to the no
small astonishment of his nephew, intimated to him his change of
destination; alleging his own hurried departure, Damian's late and
present illness, together with the necessary protection to be
afforded to the Lady Eveline, as reasons why his nephew must needs
remain behind him--to represent him during his absence--to protect
the family rights, and assert the family honour of the house of De
Lacy--above all, to act as the guardian of the young and beautiful
bride, whom his uncle and patron had been in some measure
compelled to abandon for a time.

Damian yet occupied his bed while the Constable communicated this
change of purpose. Perhaps he might think the circumstance
fortunate, that in this position he could conceal from his uncle's
observation the various emotions which he could not help feeling;
while the Constable, with the eagerness of one who is desirous of
hastily finishing what he has to say on an unpleasant subject,
hurried over an account of the arrangements which he had made, in
order that his nephew might have the means of discharging, with
sufficient effect, the important trust committed to him.

The youth listened as to a voice in a dream, which he had not the
power of interrupting, though there was something within him which
whispered there would be both prudence and integrity in
remonstrating against his uncle's alteration of plan. Something he
accordingly attempted to say, when the Constable at length paused;
but it was too feebly spoken to shake a resolution fully though
hastily adopted and explicitly announced, by one not in the use to
speak before his purpose was fixed, or to alter it when it was
declared.

The remonstrance of Damian, besides, if it could be termed such,
was spoken in terms too contradictory to be intelligible. In one
moment he professed his regret for the laurels which he had hoped
to gather in Palestine, and implored his uncle not to alter his
purpose, but permit him to attend his banner thither; and in the
next sentence, he professed his readiness to defend the safety of
Lady Eveline with the last drop of his blood. De Lacy saw nothing
inconsistent in these feelings, though they were for the moment
contradictory to each other. It was natural, he thought, that a
young knight should be desirous to win honour--natural also that
he should willingly assume a charge so honourable and important as
that with which he proposed to invest him; and therefore he
thought that it was no wonder that, assuming his new office
willingly, the young man should yet feel regret at losing the
prospect of honourable adventure, which he must abandon. He
therefore only smiled in reply to the broken expostulations of his
nephew; and, having confirmed his former arrangement, left the
young man to reflect at leisure on his change of destination,
while he himself, in a second visit to the Benedictine Abbey,
communicated the purpose which he had adopted, to the Abbess, and
to his bride-elect.

The displeasure of the former lady was in no measure abated by
this communication; in which, indeed, she affected to take very
little interest. She pleaded her religious duties, and her want of
knowledge of secular affairs, if she should chance to mistake the
usages of the world; yet she had always, she said, understood,
that the guardians of the young and beautiful of her own sex were
chosen from the more mature of the other.

"Your own unkindness, lady," answered the Constable, "leaves me no
better choice than I have made. Since the Lady Eveline's nearest
friends deny her the privilege of their roof, on account of the
claim with which she has honoured me, I, on my side, were worse
than ungrateful did I not secure for her the protection of my
nearest male heir. Damian is young, but he is true and honourable;
nor does the chivalry of England afford me a better choice."

Eveline seemed surprised, and even struck with consternation, at
the resolution which her bridegroom thus suddenly announced; and
perhaps it was fortunate that the remark of the Lady Abbess made
the answer of the Constable necessary, and prevented him from
observing that her colour shifted more than once from pale to deep
red. Rose, who was not excluded from the conference, drew close up
to her mistress; and, by affecting to adjust her veil, while in
secret she strongly pressed her hand, gave her time and
encouragement to compose her mind for a reply. It was brief and
decisive, and announced with a firmness which showed that the
uncertainty of the moment had passed away or been suppressed. "In
case of danger," she said, "she would not fail to apply to Damian
de Lacy to come to her aid, as he had once done before; but she
did not apprehend any danger at present, within her own secure
castle of the Garde Doloureuse, where it was her purpose to dwell,
attended only by her own household. She was resolved," she
continued, "in consideration of her peculiar condition, to observe
the strictest retirement, which she expected would not be violated
even by the noble young knight who was to act as her guardian,
unless some apprehension for her safety made his visit
unavoidable."

The Abbess acquiesced, though coldly, in a proposal, which her
ideas of decorum recommended; and preparations were hastily made
for the Lady Eveline's return to the castle of her father. Two
interviews which intervened before her leaving the convent, were
in their nature painful. The first was when Damian was formally
presented to her by his uncle, as the delegate to whom he had
committed the charge of his own property, and, which was much
dearer to him, as he affirmed, the protection of her person and
interest.