The great Baron himself seemed to attach to their meeting a degree
of consequence, which was intimated by the formal preparations
which he made for it. Eveline had imagined that he might have
ridden to the gate of the castle in five minutes, and that, if a
pavilion were actually necessary to the decorum of their
interview, a tent could have been transferred from his leaguer to
the castle gate, and pitched there in ten minutes more. But it was
plain that the Constable considered much more form and ceremony as
essential to their meeting; for in about half an hour after Damian
de Lacy had left the castle, not fewer than twenty soldiers and
artificers, under the direction of a pursuivant, whose tabard was
decorated with the armorial bearings of the house of Lacy, were
employed in erecting before the gate of the Garde Doloureuse one
of those splendid pavilions, which were employed at tournaments
and other occasions of public state. It was of purple silk,
valanced with gold embroidery, having the chords of the same rich
materials. The door-way was formed by six lances, the staves of
which were plaited with silver, and the blades composed of the
same precious metal. These were pitched into the ground by
couples, and crossed at the top, so as to form a sort of
succession of arches, which were covered by drapery of sea-green
silk, forming a pleasing contrast with the purple and gold.

The interior of the tent was declared by Dame Gillian and others,
whose curiosity induced them to visit it, to be of a splendour
agreeing with the outside. There were Oriental carpets, and there
were tapestries of Ghent and Bruges mingled in gay profusion,
while the top of the pavilion, covered with sky-blue silk, was
arranged so as to resemble the firmament, and richly studded with
a sun, moon, and stars, composed of solid silver. This gorgeous
pavilion had been made for the use of the celebrated William of
Ypres, who acquired such great wealth as general of the
mercenaries of King Stephen, and was by him created Earl of
Albemarle; but the chance of War had assigned it to De Lacy, after
one of the dreadful engagements, so many of which occurred during
the civil wars betwixt Stephen and the Empress Maude, or Matilda.
The Constable had never before been known to use it; for although
wealthy and powerful, Hugo de Lacy was, on most occasions, plain
and unostentatious; which, to those who knew him, made his present
conduct seem the more remarkable. At the hour of noon he arrived,
nobly mounted, at the gate of the castle, and drawing up a small
body of servants, pages, and equerries, who attended him in their
richest liveries, placed himself at their head, and directed his
nephew to intimate to the Lady of the Garde Doloureuse, that the
humblest of her servants awaited the honour of her presence at the
castle gate.

Among the spectators who witnessed his arrival, there were many
who thought that some part of the state and splendour attached to
his pavilion and his retinue, had been better applied to set forth
the person of the Constable himself, as his attire was simple even
to meanness, and his person by no means of such distinguished
bearing as might altogether dispense with the advantages of dress
and ornament. The opinion became yet more prevalent, when he
descended from horseback, until which time his masterly management
of the noble animal he bestrode, gave a dignity to his person and
figure, which he lost upon dismounting from his steel saddle. In
height, the celebrated Constable scarce attained the middle size,
and his limbs, though strongly built and well knit, were deficient
in grace and ease of movement. His legs were slightly curved
outwards, which gave him advantage as a horseman, but showed
unfavourably when he was upon foot. He halted, though very
slightly, in consequence of one of his legs having been broken by
the fall of a charger, and inartificially set by an inexperienced
surgeon. This, also, was a blemish in his deportment; and though
his broad shoulders, sinewy arms, and expanded chest, betokened
the strength which he often displayed, it was strength of a clumsy
and ungraceful character. His language and gestures were those of
one seldom used to converse with equals, more seldom still with
superiors; short, abrupt, and decisive, almost to the verge of
sternness. In the judgment of those who were habitually acquainted
with the Constable, there was both dignity and kindness in his
keen eye and expanded brow; but such as saw him for the first time
judged less favourably, and pretended to discover a harsh and
passionate expression, although they allowed his countenance to
have, on the whole, a bold and martial character. His age was in
reality not more than five-and-forty, but the fatigues of war and
of climate had added in appearance ten years to that period of
time. By far the plainest dressed man of his train, he wore only a
short Norman mantle, over the close dress of shamois-leather,
which, almost always covered by his armour, was in some places
slightly soiled by its pressure. A brown hat, in which he wore a
sprig of rosemary in memory of his vow, served for his head-gear--
his good sword and dagger hung at a belt made of seal-skin.

Thus accoutred, and at the head of a glittering and gilded band of
retainers, who watched his lightest glance, the Constable of
Chester awaited the arrival of the Lady Eveline Berenger, at the
gate of her castle of Garde Doloureuse.

The trumpets from within announced her presence--the bridge fell,
and, led by Damian de Lacy in his gayest habit, and followed by
her train of females, and menial or vassal attendants, she came
forth in her loveliness from under the massive and antique portal
of her paternal fortress. She was dressed without ornaments of any
kind, and in deep mourning weeds, as best befitted her recent
loss; forming, in this respect, a strong contrast with the rich
attire of her conductor, whose costly dress gleamed with jewels
and embroidery, while their age and personal beauty made them in
every other respect the fair counterpart of each other; a
circumstance which probably gave rise to the delighted murmur and
buzz which passed through the bystanders on their appearance, and
which only respect for the deep mourning of Eveline prevented from
breaking out into shouts of applause.

The instant that the fair foot of Eveline had made a step beyond
the palisades which formed the outward barrier of the castle, the
Constable de Lacy stepped forward to meet her, and, bending his
right knee to the earth, craved pardon for the discourtesy which
his vow had imposed on him, while he expressed his sense of the
honour with which she now graced him, as one for which his life,
devoted to her service, would be an inadequate acknowledgment.

The action and speech, though both in consistence with the
romantic gallantry of the times, embarrassed Eveline; and the
rather that this homage was so publicly rendered. She entreated
the Constable to stand up, and not to add to the confusion of one
who was already sufficiently at a loss how to acquit herself of
the heavy debt of gratitude which she owed him. The Constable
arose accordingly, after saluting her hand, which she extended to
him, and prayed her, since she was so far condescending, to deign
to enter the poor hut he had prepared for her shelter, and to
grant him the honour of the audience he had solicited. Eveline,
without farther answer than a bow, yielded him her hand, and
desiring the rest of her train to remain where they were,
commanded the attendance of Rose Flammock.

"Lady," said the Constable, "the matters of which I am compelled
thus hastily to speak, are of a nature the most private."

"This maiden," replied Eveline, "is my bower-woman, and acquainted
with my most inward thoughts; I beseech you to permit her presence
at our conference."

"It were better otherwise," said Hugo de Lacy, with some
embarrassment; "but your pleasure shall be obeyed."

He led the Lady Eveline into the tent, and entreated her to be
seated on a large pile of cushions, covered with rich Venetian
silk. Rose placed herself behind her mistress, half kneeling upon
the same cushions, and watched the motions of the all-accomplished
soldier and statesman, whom the voice of fame lauded so loudly;
enjoying his embarrassment as a triumph of her sex, and scarcely
of opinion that his shamois doublet and square form accorded with
the splendour of the scene, or the almost angelic beauty of
Eveline, the other actor therein.

"Lady," said the Constable, after some hesitation, "I would
willingly say what it is my lot to tell you, in such terms as
ladies love to listen to, and which surely your excellent beauty
more especially deserves; but I have been too long trained in
camps and councils to express my meaning otherwise than simply and
plainly."

"I shall the more easily understand you, my lord," said Eveline,
trembling, though she scarce knew why.

"My story, then, must be a blunt one. Something there passed
between your honourable father and myself, touching a union of our
houses."--He paused, as if he wished or expected Eveline to say
something, but, as she was silent, he proceeded. "I would to God,
that, as he was at the beginning of this treaty, it had pleased
Heaven he should have conducted and concluded it with his usual
wisdom; but what remedy?--he has gone the path which we must all
tread."

"Your lordship," said Eveline, "has nobly avenged the death of
your noble friend."

"I have but done my devoir, lady, as a good knight, in defence of
an endangered maiden--a Lord Marcher in protection of the
frontier--and a friend in avenging his friend. But to the point.--
Our long and noble line draws near to a close. Of my remote
kinsman, Randal Lacy, I will not speak; for in him I see nothing
that is good or hopeful, nor have we been at one for many years.
My nephew, Damian, gives hopeful promise to be a worthy branch of
our ancient tree--but he is scarce twenty years old, and hath a
long career of adventure and peril to encounter, ere he can
honourably propose to himself the duties of domestic privacy or
matrimonial engagements. His mother also is English, some
abatentent perhaps in the escutcheon of his arms; yet, had ten
years more passed over him with the honours of chivalry, I should
have proposed Damian de Lacy for the happiness to which I at
present myself aspire."

"You--you, my lord!--it is impossible!" said Eveline, endeavouring
at the same time to suppress all that could be offensive in the
surprise which she could not help exhibiting.

"I do not wonder," replied the Constable, calmly,--for the ice
being now broken, he resumed the natural steadiness of his manner
and character,--"that you express surprise at this daring
proposal. I have not perhaps the form that pleases a lady's eye,
and I have forgotten,--that is, if I ever knew them,--the terms
and phrases which please a lady's ear; but, noble Eveline, the
Lady of Hugh de Lacy will be one of the foremost among the
matronage of England."

"It will the better become the individual to whom so high a
dignity is offered," said Eveline, "to consider how far she is
capable of discharging its duties."

"Of that I fear nothing," said De Lacy. "She who hath been so
excellent a daughter, cannot be less estimable in every other
relation in life."

"I do not find that confidence in myself my lord," replied the
embarrassed maiden, "with which you are so willing to load me--And
I--forgive me--must crave time for other inquiries, as well as
those which respect myself."

"Your father, noble lady, had this union warmly at heart. This
scroll, signed with his own hand, will show it." He bent his knee
as he gave the paper. "The wife of De Lacy will have, as the
daughter of Raymond Berenger merits, the rank of a princess; his
widow, the dowry of a queen."

"Mock me not with your knee, my lord, while you plead to me the
paternal commands, which, joined to other circumstances"--she
paused, and sighed deeply--"leave me, perhaps, but little room for
free will!"

Imboldened by this answer, De Lacy, who had hitherto remained on
his knee, rose gently, and assuming a seat beside the Lady
Eveline, continued to press his suit,--not, indeed, in the
language of passion, but of a plain-spoken man, eagerly urging a
proposal on which his happiness depended. The vision of the
miraculous image was, it may be supposed, uppermost in the mind of
Eveline, who, tied down by the solemn vow she had made on that
occasion, felt herself constrained to return evasive answers,
where she might perhaps have given a direct negative, had her own
wishes alone been to decide her reply.

"You cannot," she said, "expect from me, my lord, in this my so
recent orphan state, that I should come to a speedy determination
upon an affair of such deep importance. Give me leisure of your
nobleness for consideration with myself--for consultation with my
friends."

"Alas! fair Eveline," said the Baron, "do not be offended at my
urgency. I cannot long delay setting forward on a distant and
perilous expedition; and the short time left me for soliciting
your favour, must be an apology for my importunity."

"And is it in these circumstances, noble De Lacy, that you would
encumber yourself with family ties?" asked the maiden, timidly.

"I am God's soldier," said the Constable, "and He, in whose cause
I fight in Palestine, will defend my wife in England."

"Hear then my present answer, my lord," said Eveline Berenger,
rising from her seat. "To-morrow I proceed to the Benedictine
nunnery at Gloucester, where resides my honoured father's sister,
who is Abbess of that reverend house. To her guidance I will
commit myself in this matter."

"A fair and maidenly resolution," answered De Lacy, who seemed, on
his part, rather glad that the conference was abridged, "and, as I
trust, not altogether unfavourable to the suit of your humble
suppliant, since the good Lady Abbess hath been long my honoured
friend." He then turned to Rose, who was about to attend her
lady:--"Pretty maiden," he said, offering a chain of gold, "let
this carcanet encircle thy neck, and buy thy good will."

"My good will cannot be purchased, my lord," said Rose, putting
back the gift which he proffered.

"Your fair word, then," said the Constable, again pressing it upon
her.

"Fair words are easily bought," said Rose, still rejecting the
chain, "but they are seldom worth the purchase-money."

"Do you scorn my proffer, damsel?" said De Lacy: "it has graced
the neck of a Norman count."

"Give it to a Norman countess then, my lord," said the damsel; "I
am plain Rose Flammock, the weaver's daughter. I keep my good word
to go with my good will, and a latten chain will become me as well
as beaten gold."

"Peace, Rose," said her lady; "you are over malapert to talk thus
to the Lord Constable.--And you, my lord," she continued, "permit
me now to depart, since you are possessed of my answer to your
present proposal. I regret it had not been of some less delicate
nature, that by granting it at once, and without delay, I might
have shown my sense of your services."

The lady was handed forth by the Constable of Chester, with the
same ceremony which had been observed at their entrance, and she
returned to her own castle, sad and anxious in mind for the event
of this important conference. She gathered closely round her the
great mourning veil, that the alteration of her countenance might
not be observed; and, without pausing to speak even to Father
Aldrovand, she instantly withdrew to the privacy of her own bower.




CHAPTER THE TWELFTH.


  Now all ye ladies of fair Scotland,
    And ladies of England that happy would prove,
  Marry never for houses, nor marry for land,
    Nor marry for nothing but only love.
     FAMILY QUARRELS.


When the Lady Eveline had retired into her own private chamber,
Rose Flammock followed her unbidden, and proffered her assistance
in removing the large veil which she had worn while she was
abroad; but the lady refused her permission, saying, "You are
forward with service, maiden, when it is not required of you."

"You are displeased with me, lady!" said Rose.

"And if I am, I have cause," replied Eveline. "You know my
difficulties--you know what my duty demands; yet, instead of
aiding me to make the sacrifice, you render it more difficult."

"Would I had influence to guide your path!" said Rose; "you should
find it a smooth one--ay, an honest and straight one, to boot."

"How mean you, maiden?" said Eveline.

"I would have you," answered Rose, "recall the encouragement--the
consent, I may almost call it, you have yielded to this proud
baron. He is too great to be loved himself--too haughty to love
you as you deserve. If you wed him, you wed gilded misery, and, it
may be, dishonour as well as discontent."

"Remember, damsel," answered Eveline Berenger, "his services
towards us."

"His services?" answered Rose. "He ventured his life for us;
indeed, but so did every soldier in his host. And am I bound to
wed any ruffling blade among them, because he fought when the
trumpet sounded? I wonder what, is the meaning of their
_devoir_, as they call it, when it shames them not to claim
the highest reward woman can bestow, merely for discharging the
duty of a gentleman, by a distressed creature. A gentleman, said
I?--The coarsest boor in Flanders would hardly expect thanks for
doing the duty of a man by women in such a case."

"But my father's wishes?" said the young lady.

"They had reference, without doubt, to the inclination of your
father's daughter," answered the attendant. "I will not do my late
noble lord--(may God assoilzie him!)--the injustice to suppose he
would have urged aught in this matter which squared not with your
free choice."

"Then my vow--my fatal vow, as I had well nigh called it?" said
Eveline. "May Heaven forgive me my ingratitude to my patroness!"

"Even this shakes me not," said Rose; "I will never believe our
Lady of Mercy would exact such a penalty for her protection, as to
desire me to wed the man I could not love. She smiled, you say,
upon your prayer. Go--lay at her feet these difficulties which
oppress you, and see if she will not smile again. Or seek a
dispensation from your vow--seek it at the expense of the half of
your estate,--seek it at the expense of your whole property. Go a
pilgrimage barefooted to Rome--do any thing but give your hand
where you cannot give your heart."

"You speak warmly, Rose," said Eveline, still sighing as she
spoke.

"Alas! my sweet lady, I have cause. Have I not seen a household
where love was not--where, although there was worth and good will,
and enough of the means of life, all was imbittered by regrets,
which were not only vain, but criminal?"

"Yet, methinks, Rose, a sense of what is due to ourselves and to
others may, if listened to, guide and comfort us under such
feelings even as thou hast described."

"It will save us from sin, lady, but not from sorrow," answered
Rose; "and wherefore should we, with our eyes open, rush into
circumstances where duty must war with inclination?" Why row
against wind and tide, when you may as easily take advantage of
the breeze?"

"Because the voyage of my life lies where winds and currents
oppose me," answered Eveline. "It is my fate, Rose."

"Not unless you make it such by choice," answered Rose. "Oh, could
you but have seen the pale cheek, sunken eye, and dejected bearing
of my poor mother!--I have said too much."

"It was then your mother," said her young lady, "of whose unhappy
wedlock you have spoken?"

"It was--it was," said Rose, bursting into tears. "I have exposed
my own shame to save you from sorrow. Unhappy she was, though most
guiltless--so unhappy, that the breach of the dike, and the
inundation in which she perished, were, but for my sake, to her
welcome as night to the weary labourer. She had a heart like
yours, formed to love and be loved; and it would be doing honour
to yonder proud Baron, to say he had such worth as my father's.--
Yet was she most unhappy. Oh! my sweet lady, be warned, and break
off this ill-omened match!"

Eveline returned the pressure with which the affectionate girl, as
she clung to her hand, enforced her well-meant advice, and then
muttered with a profound sigh,--"Rose, it is too late."

"Never--never," said Rose, looking eagerly round the room. "Where
are those writing materials?--Let me bring Father Aldrovand, and
instruct him of your pleasure--or, stay, the good father hath
himself an eye on the splendours of the world which he thinks he
has abandoned--he will be no safe secretary.--I will go myself to
the Lord Constable--_me_ his rank cannot dazzle, or his
wealth bribe, or his power overawe. I will tell him he doth no
knightly part towards you, to press his contract with your father
in such an hour of helpless sorrow--no pious part, in delaying the
execution of his vows for the purpose of marrying or giving in
marriage--no honest part, to press himself on a maiden whose heart
has not decided in his favour--no wise part, to marry one whom he
must presently abandon, either to solitude, or to the dangers of a
profligate court."

"You have not courage for such an embassy, Rose," said her
mistress, sadly smiling through her tears at her youthful
attendant's zeal.

"Not courage for it!--and wherefore not?--Try me," answered the
Flemish maiden, in return. "I am neither Saracen nor Welshman--his
lance and sword scare me not. I follow not his banner--his voice
of command concerns me not. I could, with your leave, boldly tell
him he is a selfish man, veiling with fair and honourable pretexts
his pursuit of objects which concern his own pride and
gratification, and founding high claims on having rendered the
services which common humanity demanded. And all for what?--
Forsooth the great De Lacy must have an heir to his noble house,
and his fair nephew is not good enough to be his representative,
because his mother was of Anglo-Saxon strain, and the real heir
must be pure unmixed Norman; and for this, Lady Eveline Berenger,
in the first bloom of youth, must be wedded to a man who might be
her father, and who, after leaving her unprotected for years, will
return in such guise as might beseem her grandfather!"

"Since he is thus scrupulous concerning purity of lineage," said
Eveline, "perhaps he may call to mind, what so good a herald as he
is cannot fail to know--that I am of Saxon strain by my father's
mother."

"Oh," replied Rose, "he will forgive that blot in the heiress of
the Garde Doloureuse."

"Fie, Rose," answered her mistress, "thou dost him wrong in taxing
him with avarice."

"Perhaps so," answered Rose; "but he is undeniably ambitious; and
Avarice, I have heard, is Ambition's bastard brother, though
Ambition be sometimes ashamed of the relationship."

"You speak too boldly, damsel," said Eveline; "and, while I
acknowledge your affection, it becomes me to check your mode of
expression."

"Nay, take that tone, and I have done," said Rose.--"To Eveline,
whom I love, and who loves me, I can speak freely--but to the Lady
of the Garde Doloureuse, the proud Norman damsel, (which when you
choose to be you can be,) I can curtsy as low as my station
demands, and speak as little truth as she cares to hear."

"Thou art a wild but a kind girl," said Eveline; "no one who did
not know thee would think that soft and childish exterior covered
such a soul of fire. Thy mother must indeed have been the being of
feeling and passion you paint her; for thy father--nay, nay, never
arm in his defence until he be attacked--I only meant to say, that
his solid sense and sound judgment are his most distinguished
qualities."

"And I would you would avail yourself of them, lady," said Rose.

"In fitting things I will; but he were rather an unmeet counsellor
in that which we now treat of," said Eveline.

"You mistake him," answered Rose Flammock, "and underrate his
value. Sound judgment is like to the graduated measuring-wand,
which, though usually applied only to coarser cloths, will give
with equal truth the dimensions of Indian silk, or of cloth of
gold."

"Well--well--this affair presses not instantly at least," said the
young lady. "Leave me now, Rose, and send Gillian the tirewoman
hither--I have directions to give about the packing and removal of
my wardrobe."

"That Gillian the tirewoman hath been a mighty favourite of late,"
said Rose; "time was when it was otherwise."

"I like her manners as little as thou dost," said Eveline; "but
she is old Raoul's wife--she was a sort of half favourite with my
dear father--who, like other men, was perhaps taken by that very
freedom which we think unseemly in persons of our sex; and then
there is no other woman in the Castle that hath such skill in
empacketing clothes without the risk of their being injured."

"That last reason alone," said Rose, smiling, "is, I admit, an
irresistible pretension to favour, and Dame Gillian shall
presently attend you.--But take my advice, lady--keep her to her
bales and her mails, and let her not prate to you on what concerns
her not."

So saying, Rose left the apartment, and her young lady looked
after her in silence--then murmured to herself--"Rose loves me
truly; but she would willingly be more of the mistress than the
maiden; and then she is somewhat jealous of every other person
that approaches me.--It is strange, that I have not seen Damian de
Lacy since my interview with the Constable. He anticipates, I
suppose, the chance of his finding in me a severe aunt!"

But the domestics, who crowded for orders with reference to her
removal early on the morrow, began now to divert the current of
their lady's thoughts from the consideration of her own particular
situation, which, as the prospect presented nothing pleasant, with
the elastic spirit of youth, she willingly postponed till farther
leisure.




CHAPTER THE THIRTEENTH


  Too much rest is rust,
    There's ever cheer in changing;
  We tyne by too much trust,
  So we'll be up and ranging.
     OLD SONG.


Early on the subsequent morning, a gallant company, saddened
indeed by the deep mourning which their principals wore, left the
well-defended Castle of the Garde Doloureuse, which had been so
lately the scene of such remarkable events.

The sun was just beginning to exhale the heavy dews which had
fallen during the night, and to disperse the thin gray mist which
eddied around towers and battlements, when Wilkin Flammock, with
six crossbowmen on horseback, and as many spearmen on foot,
sallied forth from under the Gothic gate-way, and crossed the
sounding drawbridge. After this advanced guard, came four
household servants well mounted, and after them, as many inferior
female attendants, all in mourning. Then rode forth the young Lady
Eveline herself, occupying the centre of the little procession,
and her long black robes formed a striking contrast to the colour
of her milk-white palfrey. Beside her, on a Spanish jennet, the
gift of her affectionate father,--who had procured it at a high
rate, and who would have given half his substance to gratify his
daughter,--sat the girlish form of Rose Flammock, who had so much
of juvenile shyness in her manner, so much of feeling and of
judgment in her thoughts and actions. Dame Margery followed, mixed
in the party escorted by Father Aldrovand, whose company she
chiefly frequented; for Margery affected a little the character of
the devotee, and her influence in the family, as having been
Eveline's nurse, was so great as to render her no improper
companion for the chaplain, when her lady did not require her
attendance on her own person. Then came old Raoul the huntsman,
his wife, and two or three other officers of Raymond Berenger's
household; the steward, with his golden chain, velvet cassock, and
white wand, bringing up the rear, which was closed by a small band
of archers, and four men-at-arms. The guards, and indeed the
greater part of the attendants, were only designed to give the
necessary degree of honour to the young lady's movements, by
accompanying her a short space from the castle, where they were
met by the Constable of Chester, who, with a retinue of thirty
lances, proposed himself to escort Eveline as far as Gloucester,
the place of her destination. Under his protection no danger was
to be apprehended, even if the severe defeat so lately sustained
by the Welsh had not of itself been likely to prevent any attempt,
on the part of those hostile mountaineers, to disturb the safety
of the marches for some time to come. In pursuance of this
arrangement, which permitted the armed part of Eveline's retinue
to return for the protection of the castle, and the restoration of
order in the district around, the Constable awaited her at the
fatal bridge, at the head of the gallant band of selected horsemen
whom he had ordered to attend upon him. The parties halted, as if
to salute each other; but the Constable, observing that Eveline
drew her veil more closely around her, and recollecting the loss
she had so lately sustained on that luckless spot, had the
judgment to confine his greeting to a mute reverence, so low that
the lofty plume which he wore, (for he was now in complete
armour,) mingled with the flowing mane of his gallant horse.
Wilkin Flammock next halted, to ask the lady if she had any
farther commands.

"None, good Wilkin," said Eveline; "but to be, as ever, true and
watchful."

"The properties of a good mastiff," said Flammock. "Some rude
sagacity, and a stout hand instead of a sharp case of teeth, are
all that I can claim to be added to them--I will do my best.--Fare
thee well, Roschen! Thou art going among strangers--forget not the
qualities which made thee loved at home. The saints bless thee--
farewell!"

The steward next approached to take his leave, but in doing so,
had nearly met with a fatal accident. It had been the pleasure of
Raoul, who was in his own disposition cross-grained, and in person
rheumatic, to accommodate himself with an old Arab horse, which
had been kept for the sake of the breed, as lean, and almost as
lame as himself, and with a temper as vicious as that of a fiend.
Betwixt the rider and the horse was a constant misunderstanding,
testified on Raoul's part by oaths, rough checks with the curb,
and severe digging with the spurs, which Mahound (so paganishly
was the horse named) answered by plunging, bounding, and
endeavouring by all expedients to unseat his rider, as well as
striking and lashing out furiously at whatever else approached
him. It was thought by many of the household, that Raoul preferred
this vicious cross-tempered animal upon all occasions when he
travelled in company with his wife, in order to take advantage by
the chance, that amongst the various kicks, plunges, gambades,
lashings out, and other eccentricities of Mahound, his heels might
come in contact with Dame Gillian's ribs. And now, when as the
important steward spurred up his palfrey to kiss his young lady's
hand, and to take his leave, it seemed to the bystanders as if
Raoul so managed his bridle and spur, that Mahound jerked out his
hoofs at the same moment, one of which coming in contact with the
steward's thigh, would have splintered it like a rotten reed, had
the parties been a couple of inches nearer to each other. As it
was, the steward sustained considerable damage; and they that
observed the grin upon Raoul's vinegar countenance entertained
little doubt, that Mahound's heels then and there avenged certain
nods, and winks, and wreathed smiles, which had passed betwixt the
gold-chained functionary and the coquettish tirewoman, since the
party left the castle.

This incident abridged the painful solemnity of parting betwixt
the Lady Eveline and her dependents, and lessened, at the same
time, the formality of her meeting with the Constable, and, as it
were, resigning herself to his protection.

Hugo de Lacy, having commanded six of his men-at-arms to proceed
as an advanced-guard, remained himself to see the steward properly
deposited on a litter, and then, with the rest of his followers,
marched in military fashion about one hundred yards in the rear of
Lady Eveline and her retinue, judiciously forbearing to present
himself to her society while she was engaged in the orisons which
the place where they met naturally suggested, and waiting
patiently until the elasticity of youthful temper should require
some diversion of the gloomy thoughts which the scene inspired.

Guided by this policy, the Constable did not approach the ladies
until the advance of the morning rendered it politeness to remind
them, that a pleasant spot for breaking their fast occurred in the
neighbourhood, where he had ventured to make some preparations for
rest and refreshment. Immediately after the Lady Eveline had
intimated her acceptance of this courtesy, they came in sight of
the spot he alluded to, marked by an ancient oak, which, spreading
its broad branches far and wide, reminded the traveller of that of
Mamre, under which celestial beings accepted the hospitality of
the patriarch. Across two of these huge projecting arms was flung
a piece of rose-coloured sarsanet, as a canopy to keep off the
morning beams, which were already rising high. Cushions of silk,
interchanged with others covered with the furs of animals of the
chase, were arranged round a repast, which a Norman cook had done
his utmost to distinguish, by the superior delicacy of his art,
from the gross meals of the Saxons, and the penurious simplicity
of the Welsh tables. A fountain, which bubbled from under a large
mossy stone at some distance, refreshed the air with its sound,
and the taste with its liquid crystal; while, at the same time, it
formed a cistern for cooling two or three flasks of Gascon wine
and hippocras, which were at that time the necessary
accompaniments of the morning meal.

When Eveline, with Rose, the Confessor, and at some farther
distance her faithful nurse, was seated at this silvan banquet,
the leaves rustling to a gentle breeze, the water bubbling in the
background, the birds twittering around, while the half-heard
sounds of conversation and laughter at a distance announced that
their guard was in the vicinity, she could not avoid making the
Constable some natural compliment on his happy selection of a
place of repose.

"You do me more than justice," replied the Baron; "the spot was
selected by my nephew, who hath a fancy like a minstrel. Myself am
but slow in imagining such devices."

Rose looked full at her mistress, as if she endeavoured to look
into her very inmost soul; but Eveline answered with the utmost
simplicity,--"And wherefore hath not the noble Damian waited to
join us at the entertainment which he hath directed?"

"He prefers riding onward," said the Baron, "with some light-
horsemen; for, notwithstanding there are now no Welsh knaves
stirring, yet the marches are never free from robbers and outlaws;
and though there is nothing to fear for a band like ours, yet you
should not be alarmed even by the approach of danger."

"I have indeed seen but too much of it lately," said Eveline; and
relapsed into the melancholy mood from which the novelty of the
scene had for a moment awakened her.

Meanwhile, the Constable, removing, with the assistance of his
squire, his mailed hood and its steel crest, as well as his
gauntlets, remained in his flexible coat of mail, composed
entirely of rings of steel curiously interwoven, his hands bare,
and his brows covered with a velvet bonnet of a peculiar fashion,
appropriated to the use of knights, and called a _mortier_,
which permitted him both to converse and to eat more easily than
when he wore the full defensive armour. His discourse was plain,
sensible, and manly; and, turning upon the state of the country,
and the precautions to be observed for governing and defending so
disorderly a frontier, it became gradually interesting to Eveline,
one of whose warmest wishes was to be the protectress of her
father's vassals. De Lacy, on his part, seemed much pleased; for,
young as Eveline was, her questions showed intelligence, and her
mode of answering, both apprehension and docility. In short,
familiarity was so far established betwixt them, that in the nest
stage of their journey, the Constable seemed to think his
appropriate place was at the Lady Eveline's bridle-rein; and
although she certainly did not countenance his attendance, yet
neither did she seem willing to discourage it. Himself no ardent
lover, although captivated both by the beauty and the amiable
qualities of the fair orphan, De Lacy was satisfied with being
endured as a companion, and made no efforts to improve the
opportunity which this familiarity afforded him, by recurring to
any of the topics of the preceding day.

A halt was made at noon in a small village, where the same
purveyor had made preparations for their accommodation, and
particularly for that of the Lady Eveline; but, something to her
surprise, he himself remained invisible. The conversation of the
Constable of Chester was, doubtless, in the highest degree
instructive; but at Eveline's years, a maiden might be excused for
wishing some addition to the society in the person of a younger
and less serious attendant; and when she recollected the
regularity with which Damian Lacy had hitherto made his respects
to her, she rather wondered at his continued absence. But her
reflection went no deeper than the passing thought of one who was
not quite so much delighted with her present company, as not to
believe it capable of an agreeable addition. She was lending a
patient ear to the account which the Constable gave her of the
descent and pedigree of a gallant knight of the distinguished
family of Herbert, at whose castle he proposed to repose during
the night, when one of the retinue announced a messenger from the
Lady of Baldringham.

"My honoured father's aunt," said Eveline, arising to testify that
respect for age and relationship which the manners of the time
required.

"I knew not," said the Constable, "that my gallant friend had such
a relative."

"She was my grandmother's sister," answered Eveline, "a noble
Saxon lady; but she disliked the match formed with a Norman house,
and never saw her sister after the period of her marriage."

She broke off, as the messenger, who had the appearance of the
steward of a person of consequence, entered the presence, and,
bending his knee reverently, delivered a letter, which, being
examined by Father Aldrovand, was found to contain the following
invitation, expressed, not in French, then the general language of
communication amongst the gentry, but in the old Saxon language,
modified as it now was by some intermixture of French.

"If the grand-daughter of Aelfried of Baldringham hath so much of
the old Saxon strain as to desire to see an ancient relation, who
still dwells in the house of her forefathers, and lives after
their manner, she is thus invited to repose for the night in the
dwelling of Ermengarde of Baldringham."

"Your pleasure will be, doubtless, to decline the present
hospitality?" said the Constable De Lacy; "the noble Herbert
expects us, and has made great preparation."

"Your presence, my lord," said Eveline, "will more than console
him for my absence. It is fitting and proper that I should meet my
aunt's advances to reconciliation, since she has condescended to
make them."

De Lacy's brow was slightly clouded, for seldom had he met with
anything approaching to contradiction of his pleasure. "I pray you
to reflect, Lady Eveline," he said, "that your aunt's house is
probably defenceless, or at least very imperfectly guarded.--Would
it not be your pleasure that I should continue my dutiful
attendance?"

"Of that, my lord, mine aunt can, in her own house, be the sole
judge; and methinks, as she has not deemed it necessary to request
the honour of your lordship's company, it were unbecoming in me to
permit you to take the trouble of attendance;--you have already
had but too much on my account."

"But for the sake of your own safety, madam," said De Lacy,
unwilling to leave his charge.

"My safety, my lord, cannot be endangered in the house of so near
a relative; whatever precautions she may take on her own behalf,
will doubtless be amply sufficient for mine."

"I hope it will be found so," said De Lacy; "and I will at least
add to them the security of a patrol around the castle during your
abode in it." He stopped, and then proceeded with some hesitation
to express his hope, that Eveline, now about to visit a kinswoman
whose prejudices against the Norman race were generally known,
would be on her guard against what she might hear upon that
subject.

Eveline answered with dignity, that the daughter of Raymond
Berenger was unlikely to listen to any opinions which would affect
the dignity of that good knight's nation and descent; and with
this assurance, the Constable, finding it impossible to obtain any
which had more special reference to himself and his suit, was
compelled to remain satisfied. He recollected also that the castle
of Herbert was within two miles of the habitation of the Lady of
Baldringham, and that his separation from Eveline was but for one
night; yet a sense of the difference betwixt their years, and
perhaps of his own deficiency in those lighter qualifications by
which the female heart is supposed to be most frequently won,
rendered even this temporary absence matter of anxious thought and
apprehension; so that, during their afternoon journey, he rode in
silence by Eveline's side, rather meditating what might chance to-
morrow, than endeavouring to avail himself of present opportunity.
In this unsocial manner they travelled on until the point was
reached where they were to separate for the evening.

This was an elevated spot, from which they could see, on the right
hand, the castle of Amelot Herbert, rising high upon an eminence,
with all its Gothic pinnacles and turrets; and on the left, low-
embowered amongst oaken woods, the rude and lonely dwelling in
which the Lady of Baldringham still maintained the customs of the
Anglo-Saxons, and looked with contempt and hatred on all
innovations that had been introduced since the battle of Hastings.

Here the Constable De Lacy, having charged a part of his men to
attend the Lady Eveline to the house of her relation, and to keep
watch around it with the utmost vigilance, but at such a distance
as might not give offence or inconvenience to the family, kissed
her hand, and took a reluctant leave. Eveline proceeded onwards by
a path so little trodden, as to show the solitary condition of the
mansion to which it led. Large kine, of an uncommon and valuable
breed, were feeding in the rich pastures around; and now and then
fallow deer, which appeared to have lost the shyness of their
nature, tripped across the glades of the woodland, or stood and
lay in small groups under some great oak. The transient pleasure
which such a scene of rural quiet was calculated to afford,
changed to more serious feelings, when a sudden turn brought her
at once in front of the mansion-house, of which she had seen
nothing since she first beheld it from the point where she parted
with the Constable, and which she had more than one reason for
regarding with some apprehension.

The house, for it could not be termed a castle, was only two
stories high, low and massively built, with doors and windows
forming the heavy round arch which is usually called Saxon;--the
walls were mantled with various creeping plants, which had crept
along them undisturbed--grass grew up to the very threshold, at
which hung a buffalo's horn, suspended by a brass chain. A massive
door of black oak closed a gate, which much resembled the ancient
entrance to a ruined sepulchre, and not a soul appeared to
acknowledge or greet their arrival.

"Were I you, my Lady Eveline," said the officious dame Gillian, "I
would turn bridle yet; for this old dungeon seems little likely to
afford food or shelter to Christian folk."

Eveline imposed silence on her indiscreet attendant, though
herself exchanging a look with Rose which confessed something like
timidity, as she commanded Raoul to blow the horn at the gate. "I
have heard," she said, "that my aunt loves the ancient customs so
well, that she is loath to admit into her halls any thing younger
than the time of Edward the Confessor."

Raoul, in the meantime, cursing the rude instrument which baffled
his skill in sounding a regular call, and gave voice only to a
tremulous and discordant roar, which seemed to shake the old
walls, thick as they were, repeated his summons three times before
they obtained admittance. On the third sounding, the gate opened,
and a numerous retinue of servants of both sexes appeared in the
dark and narrow hall, at the upper end of which a great fire of
wood was sending its furnace-blast up an antique chimney, whose
front, as extensive as that of a modern kitchen, was carved over
with ornaments of massive stone, and garnished on the top with a
long range of niches, from each of which frowned the image of some
Saxon Saint, whose barbarous name was scarce to be found in the
Romish calendar.

The same officer who had brought the invitation from his lady to
Eveline, now stepped forward, as she supposed, to assist her from
her palfrey; but it was in reality to lead it by the bridle-rein
into the paved hall itself, and up to a raised platform, or dais,
at the upper end of which she was at length permitted to dismount.
Two matrons of advanced years, and four young women of gentle
birth, educated by the bounty of Ermengarde, attended with
reverence the arrival of her kinswoman. Eveline would have
inquired of them for her grand-aunt, but the matrons with much
respect laid their fingers on their mouths, as if to enjoin her
silence; a gesture which, united to the singularity of her
reception in other respects, still farther excited her curiosity
to see her venerable relative.

It was soon gratified; for, through a pair of folding doors, which
opened not far from the platform on which she stood, she was
ushered into a large low apartment hung with arras; at the upper
end of which, under a species of canopy, was seated the ancient
Lady of Baldringham. Fourscore years had not quenched the
brightness of her eyes, or bent an inch of her stately height; her
gray hair was still so profuse as to form a tier, combined as it
was with a chaplet of ivy leaves; her long dark-coloured gown fell
in ample folds, and the broidered girdle, which gathered it around
her, was fastened by a buckle of gold, studded with precious
stones, which were worth an Earl's ransom; her features, which had
once been beautiful, or rather majestic, bore still, though faded
and wrinkled, an air of melancholy and stern grandeur, that
assorted well with her garb and deportment. She had a staff of
ebony in her hand; at her feet rested a large aged wolf-dog, who
pricked his ears and bristled up his neck, as the step of a
stranger, a sound so seldom heard in those halls, approached the
chair in which his aged mistress sat motionless.

"Peace, Thryme," said the venerable dame; "and thou, daughter of
the house of Baldringham, approach, and fear not their ancient
servant."

The hound sunk down to his couchant posture when she spoke, and,
excepting the red glare of his eyes, might have seemed a
hieroglyphical emblem, lying at the feet of some ancient priestess
of Woden or Freya; so strongly did the appearance of Ermengarde,
with her rod and her chaplet, correspond with the ideas of the
days of Paganism. Yet he who had thus deemed of her would have
done therein much injustice to a venerable Christian matron, who
had given many a hide of land to holy church, in honour of God and
Saint Dunstan.

Ermengarde's reception of Eveline was of the same antiquated and
formal cast with her mansion and her exterior. She did not at
first arise from her seat when the noble maiden approached her,
nor did she even admit her to the salute which she advanced to
offer; but, laying her hand on Eveline's arm, stopped her as she
advanced, and perused her countenance with an earnest and
unsparing eye of minute observation.

"Berwine," she said to the most favoured of the two attendants,
"our niece hath the skin and eyes of the Saxon hue; but the hue of
her eye-brows and hair is from the foreigner and alien.--Thou art,
nevertheless,--welcome to my house, maiden," she added, addressing
Eveline, "especially if thou canst bear to hear that thou art not
absolutely a perfect creature, as doubtless these flatterers
around thee have taught thee to believe."

So saying, she at length arose, and saluted her niece with a kiss
on the forehead. She released her not, however, from her grasp,
but proceeded to give the attention to her garments which she had
hitherto bestowed upon her features.

"Saint Dunstan keep us from vanity!" she said; "and so this is the
new guise--and modest maidens wear such tunics as these, showing
the shape of their persons as plain as if (Saint Mary defend us!)
they were altogether without garments? And see, Berwine, these
gauds on the neck, and that neck itself uncovered as low as the
shoulder--these be the guises which strangers have brought into
merry England! and this pouch, like a player's placket, hath but
little to do with housewifery, I wot; and that dagger, too, like a
glee-man's wife, that rides a mumming in masculine apparel--dost
thou ever go to the wars, maiden, that thou wearest steel at thy
girdle?"

Eveline, equally surprised and disobliged by the depreciating
catalogue of her apparel, replied to the last question with some
spirit,--"The mode may have altered, madam; but I only wear such
garments as are now worn by those of my age and condition. For the
poniard, may it please you, it is not many days since I regarded
it as the last resource betwixt me and dishonour."

"The maiden speaks well and boldly, Berwine," said Dame
Ermengarde; "and, in truth, pass we but over some of these vain
fripperies, is attired in a comely fashion. Thy father, I hear,
fell knight-like in the field of battle."