Eveline scarce trusted herself with one glance; but that single
look comprehended and reported to her the ravage which disease,
aided by secret grief, had made on the manly form and handsome
countenance of the youth before her. She received his salutation
in a manner as embarrassed as that in which it was made; and, to
his hesitating proffer of service, answered, that she trusted only
to be obliged to him for his good-will during the interval of his
uncle's absence.

Her parting with the Constable was the next trial which she was to
undergo. It was not without emotion, although she preserved her
modest composure, and De Lacy his calm gravity of deportment. His
voice faltered, however, when he came to announce, "that it were
unjust she should be bound by the engagement which she had been
graciously contented to abide under. Three years he had assigned
for its term; to which space the Arch-bishop Baldwin had consented
to shorten the period of his absence. If I appear not when these
are elapsed," he said, "let the Lady Eveline conclude that the
grave holds De Lacy, and seek out for her mate some happier man.
She cannot find one more grateful, though there are many who
better deserve her."

On these terms they parted; and the Constable, speedily afterwards
embarking, ploughed the narrow seas for the shores of Flanders,
where he proposed to unite his forces with the Count of that rich
and warlike country, who had lately taken the Cross, and to
proceed by the route which should be found most practicable on
their destination for the Holy Land. The broad pennon, with the
arms of the Lacys, streamed forward with a favourable wind from
the prow of the vessel, as if pointing to the quarter of the
horizon where its renown was to be augmented; and, considering the
fame of the leader, and the excellence of the soldiers who
followed him, a more gallant band, in proportion to their numbers,
never went to avenge on the Saracens the evils endured by the
Latins of Palestine.

Meanwhile Eveline, after a cold parting with the Abbess, whose
offended dignity had not yet forgiven the slight regard which she
had paid to her opinion, resumed her journey homeward to her
paternal castle, where her household was to be arranged in a
manner suggested by the Constable, and approved of by herself.

The same preparations were made for her accommodation at every
halting place which she had experienced upon her journey to
Gloucester, and, as before, the purveyor was invisible, although
she could be at little loss to guess his name. Yet it appeared as
if the character of these preparations was in some degree altered.
All the realities of convenience and accommodation, with the most
perfect assurances of safety, accompanied her every where on the
route; but they were no longer mingled with that display of tender
gallantry and taste, which marked that the attentions were paid to
a young and beautiful female. The clearest fountain-head, and the
most shady grove, were no longer selected for the noontide repast;
but the house of some franklin, or a small abbey, afforded the
necessary hospitality. All seemed to be ordered with the most
severe attention to rank and decorum--it seemed as if a nun of
some strict order, rather than a young maiden of high quality and
a rich inheritance, had been journeying through the land, and
Eveline, though pleased with the delicacy which seemed thus to
respect her unprotected and peculiar condition, would sometimes
think it unnecessary, that, by so many indirect hints, it should
be forced on her recollection.

She thought it strange also, that Damian, to whose care she had
been so solemnly committed, did not even pay his respects to her
on the road. Something there was which whispered to her, that
close and frequent intercourse might be unbecoming--even
dangerous; but surely the ordinary duties of a knight and
gentleman enjoined him some personal communication with the maiden
under his escort, were it only to ask if her accommodations had
been made to her satisfaction, or if she had any special wish
which was ungratified. The only intercourse, however, which took
place betwixt them, was through means of Amelot, Damian de Lacy's
youthful page, who came at morning and evening to receive
Eveline's commands concerning their route, and the hours of
journey and repose.

These formalities rendered the solitude of Eveline's return less
endurable; and had it not been for the society of Rose, she would
have found herself under an intolerably irksome degree of
constraint. She even hazarded to her attendant some remarks upon
the singularity of De Lacy's conduct, who, authorized as he was by
his situation, seemed yet as much afraid to approach her as if she
had been a basilisk.

Rose let the first observation of this nature pass as if it had
been unheard; but when her mistress made a second remark to the
same purpose, she answered, with the truth and freedom of her
character, though perhaps with less of her usual prudence, "Damian
de Lacy judges well, noble lady. He to whom the safe keeping of a
royal treasure is intrusted, should not indulge himself too often
by gazing upon it."

Eveline blushed, wrapt herself closer in her veil, nor did she
again during their journey mention the name of Damian de Lacy.

When the gray turrets of the Garde Doloureuse greeted her sight on
the evening of the second day, and she once more beheld her
father's banner floating from its highest watch-tower in honour of
her approach, her sensations were mingled with pain; but, upon the
whole, she looked towards that ancient home as a place of refuge,
where she might indulge the new train of thoughts which
circumstances had opened to her, amid the same scenes which had
sheltered her infancy and childhood.

She pressed forward her palfrey, to reach the ancient portal as
soon as possible, bowed hastily to the well-known faces which
showed themselves on all sides, but spoke to no one, until,
dismounting at the chapel door, she had penetrated to the crypt,
in which was preserved the miraculous painting. There, prostrate
on the ground, she implored the guidance and protection of the
Holy Virgin through those intricacies in which she had involved
herself, by the fulfilment of the vow which she had made in her
anguish before the same shrine. If the prayer was misdirected, its
purport was virtuous and sincere; nor are we disposed to doubt
that it attained that Heaven towards which it was devoutly
addressed.




CHAPTER THE TWENTY-SECOND


   The Virgin's image falls--yet some, I ween,
   Not unforgiven the suppliant knee might bend,
   As to a visible power, in which might blend
   All that was mix'd, and reconciled in her,
   Of mother's love, with maiden's purity,
   Of high with low, celestial with terrene.
     WORDSWORTH.


The household of the Lady Eveline, though of an establishment
becoming her present and future rank, was of a solemn and
sequestered character, corresponding to her place of residence,
and the privacy connected with her situation, retired as she was
from the class of maidens who are yet unengaged, and yet not
united with that of matrons, who enjoy the protection of a married
name. Her immediate female attendants, with whom the reader is
already acquainted, constituted almost her whole society. The
garrison of the castle, besides household servants, consisted of
veterans of tried faith, the followers of Berenger and of De Lacy
in many a bloody field, to whom the duties of watching and warding
were as familiar as any of their more ordinary occupations, and
whose courage, nevertheless, tempered by age and experience, was
not likely to engage in any rash adventure or accidental quarrel.
These men maintained a constant and watchful guard, commanded by
the steward, but under the eye of Father Aldrovand, who, besides
discharging his ecclesiastical functions, was at times pleased to
show some sparkles of his ancient military education.

Whilst this garrison afforded security against any sudden attempt
on the part of the Welsh to surprise the castle, a strong body of
forces were disposed within a few miles of the Garde Doloureuse,
ready, on the least alarm, to advance to defend the place against
any more numerous body of invaders, who, undeterred by the fate of
Gwenwyn, might have the hardihood to form a regular siege. To
this band, which, under the eye of Damian de Lacy himself, was
kept in constant readiness for action, could be added on occasion
all the military force of the Marches, comprising numerous bodies
of Flemings, and other foreigners, who held their establishments
by military tenure.

While the fortress was thus secure from hostile violence, the life
of its inmates was so unvaried and simple, as might have excused
youth and beauty for wishing for variety, even at the expense of
some danger. The labours of the needle were only relieved by a
walk round the battlements, where Eveline, as she passed arm in
arm with Rose, received a military salute from each sentinel in
turn, or in the court-yard, where the caps and bonnets of the
domestics paid her the same respect which she received above from
the pikes and javelins of the warders. Did they wish to extend
their airing beyond the castle gate, it was not sufficient that
doors and bridges were to be opened and lowered; there was,
besides, an escort to get under arms, who, on foot or horseback as
the case might require, attended for the security of the Lady
Eveline's person. Without this military attendance they could not
in safety move even so far as the mills, where honest Wilkln
Flammock, his warlike deeds forgotten, was occupied with his
mechanical labours. But if a farther disport was intended, and the
Lady of the Garde Doloureuse proposed to hunt or hawk for a few
hours, her safety was not confided to a guard so feeble as the
garrison of the castle might afford. It was necessary that Raoul
should announce her purpose to Damian by a special messenger
despatched the evening before, that there might be time before
daybreak to scour, with a body of light cavalry, the region in
which she intended to take her pleasure; and sentinels were placed
in all suspicious places while she continued in the field. In
truth, she tried, upon one or two occasions, to make an excursion,
without any formal annunciation of her intention; but all her
purposes seemed to be known to Damian as soon as they were formed,
and she was no sooner abroad than parties of archers and spearmen
from his camp were seen scouring the valleys, and guarding the
mountain-pass, and Damian's own, plume was usually beheld
conspicuous among the distant soldiers.

The formality of these preparations so much allayed the pleasure
derived from the sport, that Eveline seldom resorted to amusement
which was attended with such bustle, and put in motion so many
persons.

The day being worn out as it best might, in the evening Father
Aldrovand was wont to read out of some holy legend, or from the
homilies of some departed saint, such passages as he deemed fit
for the hearing of his little congregation. Sometimes also he read
and expounded a chapter of the Holy Scripture; but in such cases,
the good man's attention was so strangely turned to the military
part of the Jewish history, that he was never able to quit the
books of Judges and of Kings, together with the triumphs of Judas
Maccabeus; although the manner in which he illustrated the
victories of the children of Israel was much more amusing to
himself than edifying to his female audience.

Sometimes, but rarely, Rose obtained permission for a strolling
minstrel to entertain an hour with his ditty of love and chivalry;
sometimes a pilgrim from a distant shrine, repaid by long tales of
the wonders which he had seen in other lands, the hospitality
which the Garde Doloureuse afforded; and sometimes also it
happened, that the interest and intercession of the tiring-woman
obtained admission for travelling merchants, or pedlars, who, at
the risk of their lives, found profit by carrying from castle to
castle the materials of rich dresses and female ornaments.

The usual visits of mendicants, of jugglers, of travelling
jesters, are not to be forgotten in this list of amusements; and
though his nation subjected him to close watch and observation,
even the Welsh bard, with his huge harp strung with horse-hair,
was sometimes admitted to vary the uniformity of their secluded
life. But, saving such amusements, and saving also the regular
attendance upon the religious duties at the chapel, it was
impossible for life to glide away in more wearisome monotony than
at the castle of the Garde Doloureuse. Since the death of its
brave owner, to whom feasting and hospitality seemed as natural as
thoughts of honour and deeds of chivalry, the gloom of a convent
might be said to have enveloped the ancient mansion of Raymond
Berenger, were it not that the presence of so many armed warders,
stalking in solemn state on the battlements, gave it rather the
aspect of a state-prison; and the temper of the inhabitants
gradually became infected by the character of their dwelling.

The spirits of Eveline in particular felt a depression, which her
naturally lively temper was quite inadequate to resist; and as her
ruminations became graver, had caught that calm and contemplative
manner, which is so often united with an ardent and enthusiastical
temperament. She meditated deeply upon the former accidents of her
life; nor can it be wondered that her thoughts repeatedly wandered
back to the two several periods on which she had witnessed, or
supposed that she had witnessed, a supernatural appearance. Then
it was that it often seemed to her, as if a good and evil power
strove for mastery over her destiny.

Solitude is favourable to feelings of self-importance; and it is
when alone, and occupied only with their own thoughts, that
fanatics have reveries, and imagined saints lose themselves in
imaginary ecstasies. With Eveline the influence of enthusiasm went
not such a length, yet it seemed to her as if in the vision of the
night she saw sometimes the aspect of the Lady of the Garde
Doloureuse, bending upon her glances of pity, comfort, and
protection; sometimes the ominous form of the Saxon castle of
Baldringbam, holding up the bloody hand as witness of the injuries
with which she had been treated while in life, and menacing with
revenge the descendant of her murderer.

On awaking from such dreams, Eveline would reflect that she was
the last branch of her house--a house to which the tutelage and
protection of the miraculous Image, and the enmity and evil
influence of the revengeful Vanda, had been peculiarly attached
for ages. It seemed to her as if she were the prize, for the
disposal of which the benign saint and vindictive fiend were now
to play their last and keenest game.

Thus thinking, and experiencing little interruption of her
meditations from any external circumstance of interest and
amusement, she became pensive, absent, wrapt herself up in
contemplations which withdrew her attention from the conversation
around her, and walked in the world of reality like one who is
still in a dream. When she thought of her engagement with the
Constable of Chester, it was with resignation, but without a wish,
and almost without an expectation, that she would be called upon
to fulfil it. She had accomplished her vow by accepting the faith
of her deliverer in exchange for her own; and although she held
herself willing to redeem the pledge--nay, would scarce confess to
herself the reluctance with which she thought of doing so--yet it
is certain that she entertained unavowed hopes that Our Lady of
the Garde Doloureuse would not be a severe creditor; but,
satisfied with the readiness she had shown to accomplish her vow,
would not insist upon her claim in its full rigour. It would have
been the blackest ingratitude, to have wished that her gallant
deliverer, whom she had so much cause to pray for, should
experience any of those fatalities which in the Holy Land so often
changed the laurel-wreath into cypress; but other accidents
chanced, when men had been long abroad, to alter those purposes
with which they had left home.

A strolling minstrel, who sought the Garde Doloureuse, had
recited, for the amusement of the lady and household, the
celebrated lay of the Count of Gleichen, who, already married in
his own country, laid himself under so many obligations in the
East to a Saracen princess, through whose means he achieved his
freedom, that he married her also. The Pope and his conclave were
pleased to approve of the double wedlock, in a case so
extraordinary; and the good Count of Gleichen shared his nuptial
bed between two wives of equal rank, and now sleeps between them
under the same monument. The commentaries of the inmates of the
castle had been various and discrepant upon this legend. Father
Aldrovand considered it as altogether false, and an unworthy
calumny on the head of the church, in affirming his Holiness would
countenance such irregularity. Old Margery, with the tender-
heartedness of an ancient nurse, wept bitterly for pity during the
tale, and, never questioning either the power of the Pope or the
propriety of his decision, was pleased that a mode of extrication
was found for a complication of love distresses which seemed
almost inextricable. Dame Gillian declared it unreasonable, that,
since a woman was only allowed one husband, a man should, under
any circumstances, be permitted to have two wives; while Raoul,
glancing towards her a look of verjuice, pitied the deplorable
idiocy of the man who could be fool enough to avail himself of
such a privilege.

"Peace, all the rest of you," said the Lady Eveline; "and do you,
my dear Rose, tell me your judgment upon the Count of Gleichen and
his two wives."

Rose blushed, and replied, "She was not much accustomed to think
of such matters; but that, in her apprehension, the wife who could
be contented with but one half of her husband's affections, had
never deserved to engage the slightest share of them."

"Thou art partly right, Rose," said Eveline; "and methinks the
European lady, when she found herself outshone by the young and
beautiful foreign princess, would have best consulted her own
dignity in resigning the place, and giving the Holy Father no more
trouble than in annulling the marriage, as has been done in cases
of more frequent occurrence."

This she said with an air of indifference and even gaiety, which
intimated to her faithful attendant with how little effort she
herself could have made such a sacrifice, and served to indicate
the state of her affections towards the Constable. But there was
another than the Constable on whom her thoughts turned more
frequently, though involuntarily, than perhaps in prudence they
should have done.

The recollections of Damian de Lacy had not been erased from
Eveline's mind. They were, indeed, renewed by hearing his name so
often mentioned, and by knowing that he was almost constantly in
the neighbourhood, with his whole attention fixed upon her
convenience, interest, and safety; whilst, on the other hand, so
far from waiting on her in person, he never even attempted, by a
direct communication with herself, to consult her pleasure, even
upon what most concerned her.

The messages conveyed by Father Aldrovand, or by Rose, to Amelot,
Damian's page, while they gave an air of formality to their
intercourse, which Eveline thought unnecessary, and even unkind,
yet served to fix her attention upon the connection between them,
and to keep it ever present to her memory. The remark by which
Rose had vindicated the distance observed by her youthful
guardian, sometimes arose to her recollection; and while her soul
repelled with scorn the suspicion, that, in any case, his
presence, whether at intervals or constantly, could be prejudicial
to his uncle's interest, she conjured up various arguments for
giving him a frequent place in her memory.--Was it not her duty to
think of Damian often and kindly, as the Constable's nearest, best
beloved, and most trusted relative?--Was he not her former
deliverer and her present guardian?--And might he not be
considered as an instrument specially employed by her divine
patroness, in rendering effectual the protection with which she
had graced her in more than one emergency?

Eveline's mind mutinied against the restrictions which were laid
on their intercourse, as against something which inferred
suspicion and degradation, like the compelled seclusion to which
she had heard the Paynim infidels of the East subjected their
females. Why should she see her guardian only in the benefits
which he conferred upon her, and the cares he took for her safety,
and hear his sentiments only by the mouth of others, as if one of
them had been infected with the plague, or some other fatal or
infectious disorder, which might render their meeting dangerous to
the other?--And if they did meet occasionally, what else could be
the consequence, save that the care of a brother towards a sister
--of a trusty and kind guardian to the betrothed bride of his near
relative and honoured patron, might render the melancholy
seclusion of the Garde Doloureuse more easy to be endured by one
so young in years, and, though dejected by present circumstances,
naturally so gay in temper?

Yet, though this train of reasoning appeared to Eveline, when
tracing it in her own mind, so conclusive, that she several times
resolved to communicate her view of the case to Rose Flammock, it
so chanced that, whenever she looked on the calm steady blue eye
of the Flemish maiden, and remembered that her unblemished faith
was mixed with a sincerity and plain dealing proof against every
consideration, she feared lest she might be subjected in the
opinion of her attendant to suspicions from which her own mind
freed her; and her proud Norman spirit revolted at the idea of
being obliged to justify herself to another, when she stood self-
acquitted to her own mind. "Let things be as they are," she said;
"and let us endure all the weariness of a life which might be so
easily rendered more cheerful, rather than that this zealous but
punctilious friend should, in the strictness and nicety of her
feelings on my account, conceive me capable of encouraging an
intercourse which could lead to a less worthy thought of me in the
mind of the most scrupulous of man--or of womankind." But even
this vacillation of opinion and resolution tended to bring the
image of the handsome young Damian more frequently before the Lady
Eveline's fancy, than perhaps his uncle, had he known it, would
altogether have approved of. In such reflections, however, she
never indulged long, ere a sense of the singular destiny which had
hitherto attended her, led her back into the more melancholy
contemplations from which the buoyancy of her youthful fancy had
for a short time emancipated her.




CHAPTER THE TWENTY-THIRD


   ---Ours is the skie,
   Where at what fowl we please our hawk shall flie.
     RANDOLPH.


One bright September morning, old Raoul was busy in the mews where
he kept his hawks, grumbling all the while to himself as he
surveyed the condition of each bird, and blaming alternately the
carelessness of the under-falconer, and the situation of the
building, and the weather, and the wind, and all things around
him, for the dilapidation which time and disease had made in the
neglected hawking establishment of the Garde Doloureuse. While in
these unpleasing meditations, he was surprised by the voice of his
beloved Dame Gillian, who seldom was an early riser, and yet more
rarely visited him when he was in his sphere of peculiar
authority. "Raoul, Raoul! where art thou, man?--Ever to seek for,
when thou canst make aught of advantage for thyself or me!"

"And what want'st thou, dame?" said Raoul, "what means thy
screaming worse than the seagull before wet weather? A murrain on
thy voice! it is enough to fray every hawk from the perch."

"Hawk!" answered Dame Gillian; "it is time to be looking for
hawks, when here is a cast of the bravest falcons come hither for
sale, that ever flew by lake, brook, or meadow!"

"Kites! like her that brings the news," said Raoul.

"No, nor kestrils like him that hears it," replied Gillian; "but
brave jerfalcons, with large nares, strongly armed, and beaks
short and something bluish--"

"Pshaw, with thy jargon!--Where came they from?" said Raoul,
interested in the tidings, but unwilling to give his wife the
satisfaction of seeing that he was so.

"From the Isle of Man," replied Gillian.

"They must be good, then, though it was a woman brought tidings of
them," said Raoul, smiling grimly at his own wit; then, leaving
the mews, he demanded to know where this famous falcon-merchant
was to be met withal.

"Why, between the barriers and the inner gate," replied Gillian,
"where other men are admitted that have wares to utter--Where
should he be?"

"And who let him in?" demanded the suspicious Raoul.

"Why, Master Steward, thou owl!" said Gillian; "he came but now to
my chamber, and sent me hither to call you."

"Oh, the steward--the steward--I might have guessed as much. And
he came to thy chamber, doubtless, because he could not have as
easily come hither to me himself.--Was it not so, sweetheart?"

"I do not know why he chose to come to me rather than to you,
Raoul," said Gillian; "and if I did know, perhaps I would not tell
you. Go to--miss your bargain, or make your bargain, I care not
which--the man will not wait for you--he has good proffers from
the Seneschal of Malpas, and the Welsh Lord of Dinevawr."

"I come--I come," said Raoul, who felt the necessity of embracing
this opportunity of improving his hawking establishment, and
hastened to the gate, where he met the merchant, attended by a
servant, who kept in separate cages the three falcons which he
offered for sale.

The first glance satisfied Raoul that they were of the best breed
in Europe, and that, if their education were in correspondence to
their race, there could scarce be a more valuable addition even to
a royal mews. The merchant did not fail to enlarge upon all their
points of excellence; the breadth of their shoulders, the strength
of their train, their full and fierce dark eyes, the boldness with
which they endured the approach of strangers, and the lively
spirit and vigour with which they pruned their plumes, and shook,
or, as it was technically termed, roused themselves. He expatiated
on the difficulty and danger with which they were obtained from
the rock of Ramsey, on which they were bred, and which was an
every unrivalled even on the coast of Norway.

Raoul turned apparently a deaf ear to all these commendations.
"Friend merchant," said he, "I know a falcon as well as thou dost,
and I will not deny that thine are fine ones; but if they be not
carefully trained and reclaimed, I would rather have a goss-hawk
on my perch than the fairest falcon that ever stretched wing to
weather."

"I grant ye," said the merchant; "but if we agree on the price,
for that is the main matter, thou shalt see the birds fly if thou
wilt, and then buy them or not as thou likest. I am no true
merchant if thou ever saw'st birds beat them, whether at the mount
or the stoop."

"That I call fair," said Raoul, "if the price be equally so."

"It shall be corresponding," said the hawk-merchant; "for I have
brought six casts from the island, by the good favour of good King
Reginald of Man, and I have sold every feather of them save these;
and so, having emptied my cages and filled my purse, I desire not
to be troubled longer with the residue; and if a good fellow and a
judge, as thou seemest to be, should like the hawks when he has
seen them fly, he shall have the price of his own making."

"Go to," said Raoul, "we will have no blind bargains; my lady, if
the hawks be suitable, is more able to pay for them than thou to
give them away. Will a bezant be a conformable price for the
cast?"

"A bezant, Master Falconer!--By my faith, you are no bold
bodesman! nevertheless, double your offer, and I will consider
it."

"If the hawks are well reclaimed," said Raoul, "I will give you a
bezant and a half; but I will see them strike a heron ere I will
be so rash as to deal with you."

"It is well," said the merchant, "and I had better take your offer
than be longer cumbered with them; for were I to carry them into
Wales, I might get paid in a worse fashion by some of their long
knives.--Will you to horse presently?"

"Assuredly," said Raoul; "and, though March be the fitter month
for hawking at the heron, yet I will show you one of these
frogpeckers for the trouble of riding the matter of a mile by the
water-side."

"Content, Sir Falconer," said the merchant. "But are we to go
alone, or is there no lord or lady in the castle who would take
pleasure to see a piece of game gallantly struck? I am not afraid
to show these hawks to a countess." "My lady used to love the
sport well enough," said Raoul; "but, I wot not why, she is moped
and mazed ever since her father's death, and lives in her fair
castle like a nun in a cloister, without disport or revelry of any
kind. Nevertheless, Gillian, thou canst do something with her--
good now, do a kind deed for once, and move her to come out and
look on this morning's sport--the poor heart hath seen no pastime
this summer."

"That I will do," quoth Gillian; "and, moreover, I will show her
such a new riding-tire for the head, that no woman born could ever
look at without the wish to toss it a little in the wind."

As Gillian spoke, it appeared to her jealous-pated husband that he
surprised a glance of more intelligence exchanged betwixt her and
the trader than brief acquaintance seemed to warrant, even when
allowance was made for the extreme frankness of Dame Gillian's
disposition. He thought also, that, on looking more closely at the
merchant, his lineaments were not totally unknown to him; and
proceeded to say to him dryly, "We have met before, friend, but I
cannot call to remembrance where."

"Like enough," said the merchant; "I have used this country often,
and may have taken money of you in the way of trade. If I were in
fitting place, I would gladly bestow a bottle of wine to our
better acquaintance."

"Not so fast, friend," said the old huntsman; "ere I drink to
better acquaintance with any one, I must be well pleased with what
I already know of him. We will see thy hawks fly, and if their
breeding match thy bragging, we may perhaps crush a cup together.
--And here come grooms and equerries, in faith--my lady has
consented to come forth."

The opportunity of seeing this rural pastime had offered itself to
Eveline, at a time when the delightful brilliancy of the day, the
temperance of the air, and the joyous work of harvest, proceeding
in every direction around, made the temptation to exercise almost
irresistible.

As they proposed to go no farther than the side of the
neighbouring river, near the fatal bridge, over which a small
guard of infantry was constantly maintained, Eveline dispensed
with any farther escort, and, contrary to the custom of the
castle, took no one in her train save Rose and Gillian, and one or
two servants, who led spaniels, or carried appurtenances of the
chase. Raoul, the merchant, and an equerry, attended her of
course, each holding a hawk on his wrist, and anxiously adjusting
the mode in which they should throw them off, so as best to
ascertain the extent of their powers and training.

When these important points had been adjusted, the party rode down
the river, carefully looking on every side for the object of their
game; but no heron was seen stalking on the usual haunts of the
bird, although there was a heronry at no great distance.

Few disappointments of a small nature are more teasing than that
of a sportsman, who, having set out with all means and appliances
for destruction of game, finds that there is none to be met with;
because he conceives himself, with his full shooting trim, and his
empty game-pouch, to be subjected to the sneer of every passing
rustic. The party of the Lady Eveline felt all the degradation of
such disappointment.

"A fair country this," said the merchant, "where, on two miles of
river, you cannot find one poor heron!"

"It is the clatter those d--d Flemings make with their water-mills
and fulling-mills," said Raoul; "they destroy good sport and good
company wherever they come. But were my lady willing to ride a
mile or so farther to the Red Pool, I could show you a long-
shanked fellow who would make your hawks cancelier till their
brains were giddy."

"The Red Pool!" said Rose; "thou knowest it is more than three
miles beyond the bridge, and lies up towards the hills."

"Ay, ay," said Raoul, "another Flemish freak to spoil pastime!
They are not so scarce on the Marches these Flemish wenches, that
they should fear being hawked at by Welsh haggards."

"Raoul is right, Rose," answered Eveline; "it is absurd to be
cooped uplike birds in a cage, when all around us has been so
uniformly quiet. I am determined to break out of bounds for once,
and see sport in our old fashion, without being surrounded with
armed men like prisoners of state. We will merrily to the Red
Pool, wench, and kill a heron like free maids of the Marches."

"Let me but tell my father, at least, to mount and follow us,"
said Rose--for they were now near the re-established manufacturing
houses of the stout Fleming.

"I care not if thou dost, Rose," said Eveline; "yet credit me,
girl, we will be at the Red Pool, and thus far on our way home
again, ere thy father has donned his best doublet, girded on his
two-handed sword, and accoutred his strong Flanderkin elephant of
a horse, which he judiciously names Sloth--nay, frown not, and
lose not, in justifying thy father, the time that may be better
spent in calling him out."

Rose rode to the mills accordingly, when Wilkin Flammock, at the
command of his liege mistress, readily hastened to get his steel
cap and habergeon, and ordered half-a-dozen of his kinsmen and
servants to get on horseback. Rose remained with him, to urge him
to more despatch than his methodical disposition rendered natural
to him; but in spite of all her efforts to stimulate him, the Lady
Eveline had passed the bridge more than half an hour ere her
escort was prepared to follow her.

Meanwhile, apprehensive of no evil, and riding gaily on, with the
sensation of one escaped from confinement, Eveline moved forward
on her lively jennet, as light as a lark; the plumes with which
Dame Gillian had decked her riding-bonnet dancing in the wind, and
her attendants galloping behind her, with dogs, pouches, lines,
and all other appurtenances of the royal sport of hawking. After
passing the river, the wild green-sward path which they pursued
began to wind upward among small eminences, some-times bare and
craggy, sometimes overgrown with hazel, sloethorn, and other dwarf
shrubs, and at length suddenly descending, brought them to the
verge of a mountain rivulet, that, like a lamb at play, leapt
merrily from rock to rock, seemingly uncertain which way to run.

"This little stream was always my favourite, Dame Gillian," said
Eveline, "and now methinks it leaps the lighter that it sees me
again."

"Ah! lady," said Dame Gillian, whose turn for conversation never
ex-tended in such cases beyond a few phrases of gross flattery,
"many a fair knight would leap shoulder-height for leave to look
on you as free as the brook may! more especially now that you have
donned that riding-cap, which, in exquisite delicacy of invention,
methinks, is a bow-shot before aught that I ever invented--What
thinkest thou, Raoul?"

"I think," answered her well-natured helpmate, "that women's
tongues were contrived to drive all the game out of the country.--
Here we come near to the spot where we hope to speed, or no where;
wherefore, pray, my sweet lady, be silent yourself, and keep your
followers as much so as their natures will permit, while we steal
along the bank of the pool, under the wind, with our hawks' hoods
cast loose, all ready for a flight."

As he spoke, they advanced about a hundred yards up the brawling
stream, until the little vale through which it flowed, making a
very sudden turn to one side, showed them the Red Pool, the
superfluous water of which formed the rivulet itself.

This mountain-lake, or tarn, as it is called in some countries,
was a deep basin of about a mile in circumference, but rather
oblong than circular. On the side next to our falconers arose a
ridge of rock, of a dark red hue, giving name to the pool, which,
reflecting this massive and dusky barrier, appeared to partake of
its colour. On the opposite side was a heathy hill, whose autumnal
bloom had not yet faded from purple to russet; its surface was
varied by the dark green furze and the fern, and in many places
gray cliffs, or loose stones of the same colour, formed a contrast
to the ruddy precipice to which they lay opposed. A natural road
of beautiful sand was formed by a beach, which, extending all the
way around the lake, separated its waters from the precipitous
rock on the one hand, and on the other from the steep and broken
hill; and being no where less than five or six yards in breadth,
and in most places greatly more, offered around its whole circuit
a tempting opportunity to the rider, who desired to exercise and
breathe the horse on which he was mounted. The verge of the pool
on the rocky side was here and there strewed with fragments of
large size, detached from the precipice above, but not in such
quantity as to encumber this pleasant horse-course. Many of these
rocky masses, having passed the margin of the water in their fall,
lay immersed there like small islets; and, placed amongst a little
archipelago, the quick eye of Raoul detected the heron which they
were in search of.

A moment's consultation was held to consider in what manner they
should approach the sad and solitary bird, which, unconscious that
itself was the object of a formidable ambuscade, stood motionless
on a stone, by the brink of the lake, watching for such small fish
or water-reptiles as might chance to pass by its lonely station. A
brief debate took place betwixt Raoul and the hawk-merchant on the
best mode of starting the quarry, so as to allow Lady Eveline and
her attendants the most perfect view of the flight. The facility
of killing the heron at the _far jettee_ or at the _jettee
ferre_--that is, upon the hither or farther sid of the pool--
was anxiously debated in language of breathless importance, as if
some great and perilous enterprise was about to be executed.

At length the arrangements were fixed, and the party began to
advance towards the aquatic hermit, who, by this time aware of
their approach, drew himself up to his full height, erected his
long lean neck, spread his broad fan-like wings, uttered his usual
clanging cry, and, projecting his length of thin legs far behind
him, rose upon the gentle breeze. It was then, with a loud whoop
of encouragement, that the merchant threw off the noble hawk he
bore, having first unhooded her to give her a view of her quarry.

Eager as a frigate in chase of some rich galleon, darted the
falcon towards the enemy, which she had been taught to pursue;
while, preparing for defence, if he should be unable to escape by
flight, the heron exerted all his powers of speed to escape from
an enemy so formidable. Plying his almost unequalled strength of
wing, he ascended high and higher in the air, by short gyrations,
that the hawk might gain no vantage ground for pouncing at him;
while his spiked beak, at the extremity of so long a neck as
enabled him to strike an object at a yard's distance in every
direction, possessed for any less spirited assailant all the
terrors of a Moorish javelin.

Another hawk was now thrown off, and encouraged by the halloos of
the falconer to join her companion. Both kept mounting, or scaling
the air, as it were, by a succession of small circles, endeavoring
to gain that superior height which the heron on his part was bent
to preserve; and to the exquisite delight of the spectators, the
contest was continued until all three were well-nigh mingled with
the fleecy clouds, from which was occasionally heard the harsh and
plaintive cry of the quarry, appealing as it were to the heaven
which he was approaching, against the wanton cruelty of those by
whom he was persecuted.

At length on of the falcons had reached a pitch from which she
ventured to stoop at the heron; but so judiciously did the quarry
maintain his defence, as to receive on his beak the stroke which
the falcon, shooting down at full descent, had made against his
right wing; so that one of his enemies, spiked through the body by
his own weight, fell fluttering into the lake, very near the land,
on the side farthest from the falconers, and perished there.

"There goes a gallant falcon to the fishes," said Raoul.
"Merchant, thy cake is dough."

Even as he spoke, however, the remaining bird had avenged the fate
of her sister; for the success which the heron met with on one
side, did not prevent his being assailed on the other wing; and
the falcon stooping boldly, and grappling with, or, as it is
called in falconry, _binding_ his prey, both came tumbling
down together, from a great height in the air. It was then no
small object on the part of the falconers to come in as soon as
possible, lest the falcon should receive hurt from the beak or
talons of the heron; and the whole party, the men setting spurs,
and the females switching their palfreys, went off like the wind,
sweeping along the fair and smooth beach betwixt the rock and the
water.

Lady Eveline, far better mounted than any of her train, her
spirits elated by the sport, and by the speed at which she moved,
was much sooner than any of her attendants at the spot where the
falcon and heron, still engaged in their mortal struggle, lay
fighting upon the moss; the wing of the latter having been broken
by the stoop of the former. The duty of a falconer in such a
crisis was to run in and assist the hawk, by thrusting the heron's
bill into the earth, and breaking his legs, and thus permitting
the falcon to dispatch him on easy terms.

Neither would the sex nor quality of the Lady Eveline have excused
her becoming second to the falcon in this cruel manner; but, just
as she had dismounted for that purpose, she was surprised to find
herself seized on by wild form, who exclaimed in Welsh, that he
seized her as a _waif_, for hawking on the demesnes of Dawfyd
with the one eye. At the same time many other Welshmen, to the
number of more than a score, showed them-selves from behind crags
and bushes, all armed at point with the axes called Welsh hooks,
long knives, darts, and bows and arrows.

Eveline screamed to her attendants for assistance, and at the same
time made use of what Welsh phrases she possessed, to move the
fears or excite the compassion of the outlawed mountaineers, for
she doubted not that she had fallen under the power of such a
party. When she found her requests were unheeded, and she
perceived it was their purpose to detain her prisoner, she
disdained to use farther entreaties, but demanded at their peril
that they should treat her with respect, promising in that case
that she would pay them a large ransom, and threatening them with
the vengeance of the Lords Marchers, and particularly of Sir
Damian de Lacy, if they ventured to use her otherwise.

The men seemed to understand her, and although they proceeded to
tie a bandage over her eyes, and to bind her arms with her own
veil, yet they observed in these acts of violence a certain
delicacy and attention both to her feelings and her safety, which
led her to hope that her request had had some effect on them. They
secured her to the saddle of her palfrey, and led her away with
them through the recesses of the hills; while she had the
additional distress to hear behind her the noise of a conflict,
occasioned by the fruitless efforts of her retinue to procure her
rescue.

Astonishment had at first seized the hawking party, when they saw
from some distance their sport interrupted by a violent assault on
their mistress. Old Raoul valiantly put spurs to his horse, and
calling on the rest to follow him to the rescue, rode furiously
towards the banditti; but, having no other arms save a hawking-
pole and short sword, he and those who followed him in his
meritorious but ineffectual attempt were easily foiled, and Raoul
and one or two of the foremost severely beaten; the banditti
exercising upon them their own poles till they were broken to
splinters, but generously abstaining from the use of more
dangerous weapons. The rest of the retinue, completely
discouraged, dispersed to give the alarm, and the merchant and
Dame Gillian remained by the lake, filling the air with shrieks of
useless fear and sorrow. The outlaws, meanwhile, drawing together
in a body, shot a few arrows at the fugitives, but more to alarm
than to injure them, and then marched off in a body, as if to
cover their companions who had gone before, with the Lady Eveline
in their custody.




CHAPTER THE TWENTY-FOURTH.


   Four ruffians seized me yester morn--
   Alas! a maiden most forlorn!
   They choked my cries with wicked might,
   And bound me on a palfrey white.     COLERIDGE.


Such adventures as are now only recorded in works of mere fiction,
were not uncommon in the feudal ages, when might was so
universally superior to right; and it followed that those whose
conditions exposed them to frequent violence, were more prompt in
repelling, and more patient in enduring it, than could otherwise
have been expected from their sex and age.

The Lady Eveline felt that she was a prisoner, nor was she devoid
of fears concerning the purposes of this assault; but she suffered
neither her alarm, nor the violence with which she was hurried
along, to deprive her of the power of observing and reflecting.
From the noise of hoofs which now increased around, she concluded
that the greater part of the ruffians by whom she had been seized
had betaken themselves to their horses. This she knew was
consonant to the practice of the Welsh marauders, who, although
the small size and slightness of their nags made them totally
unfit for service in battle, availed themselves of their activity
and sureness of foot to transport them with the necessary celerity
to and from the scenes of their rapine; ensuring thus a rapid and
unperceived approach, and a secure and speedy retreat. These
animals traversed without difficulty, and beneath the load of a
heavy soldier, the wild mountain paths by which the country was
intersected, and in one of which Lady Eveline Berenger concluded
she was now engaged, from the manner in which her own palfrey,
supported by a man on foot at either rein, seemed now to labour up
some precipice, and anon to descend with still greater risk on the
other side.

At one of those moments, a voice which she had not yet
distinguished addressed her in the Anglo-Norman language, and
asked, with apparent interest, if she sat safely on her saddle,
offering at the same time to have her accoutrements altered at her
pleasure and convenience.

"Insult not my condition with the mention of safety," said
Eveline; "you may well believe that I hold my safety altogether
irreconcilable with these deeds of violence. If I or my vassals
have done injury to any of the _Gymry_, [Footnote: Cymbri, or
Welsh.] let me know, and it shall be amended--If it is ransom
which you desire, name the sum, and I will send an order to treat
for it; but detain me not prisoner, for that can but injure me,
and will avail you nothing."

"The Lady Eveline," answered the voice, still in a tone of
courtesy inconsistent with the violence which she sustained, "will
speedily find that our actions are more rough than purposes."

"If you know who I am," said Eveline, "you cannot doubt that this
atrocity will be avenged--you must know by whose banner my lands
are at present protected."

"Under De Lacy's," answered the voice, with a tone of indifference
"Be it so--falcons fear not falcons."

At this moment there was a halt, and a confused murmur arose
amongst those around her, who had hitherto been silent, unless
when muttering to each other in Welsh, and as briefly as possible,
directions which way to hold, or encouragement to use haste.

These murmurs ceased, and there was a pause of several minutes; at
length Eveline again heard the voice which formerly addressed her,
giving directions which she could not understand. He then spoke to
herself, "You will presently see," he said, "whether I have spoken
truly, when I said I scorned the ties by which you are fettered.
But you are at once the cause of strife and the reward of victory--
your safety must be cared for as time will admit; and, strange as
the mode of protection is to which we are to intrust you, I trust
the victor in the approaching struggle will find you uninjured."

"Do not, for the sake of the blessed Virgin, let there be strife
and bloodshed!" said Eveline; "rather unbind my eyes, and let me
speak to those whose approach you dread. If friends, as it would
seem to me, I will be the means of peace between you."

"I despise peace," replied the speaker. "I have not undertaken a
resolute and daring adventure, to resign it as a child doth his
plaything, at the first frown of fortune. Please to alight, noble
lady; or rather be not offended that I thus lift you from thy
seat, and place you on the greensward."

As he spoke, Eveline felt herself lifted from her palfrey, and
placed carefully and safely on the ground, in a sitting posture. A
moment after, the same peremptory valet who had aided her to
dismount, disrobed her of her cap, the masterpiece of Dame
Gillian, and of her upper mantle. "I must yet farther require
you," said the bandit leader, "to creep on hands and knees into
this narrow aperture. Believe me, I regret the nature of the
singular fortification to which I commit your person for safety."