In slow and solid natures there is usually a touch of shamefacedness, and a sensitiveness to the breach of petty observances. Wilkin Flammock had been unmoved even to insensibility at the imputation of treason so lately cast upon him; but he coloured high, and was confused, while, hastily throwing on his cassock, he endeavoured, to conceal the dishabille in which he had been surprised by the Lady Eveline. Not so his daughter. Proud of her father’s zeal, her eye gleamed from him to her mistress with a look of triumph, which seemed to say, “And this faithful follower is he who was suspected of treachery!”
Eveline’s own bosom made her the same reproach; and anxious to atone for her momentary doubt of his fidelity, she offered for his acceptance a ring of value; “in small amends,” she said, “of a momentary misconstruction.” “It needs not, lady,” said Flammock, with his usual bluntness, “unless I have the freedom to bestow the gaud on Rose; for I think she was grieved enough at that which moved me little,— as why should it?”
“Dispose of it as thou wilt,” said Eveline; “the stone it bears is as true as thine own faith.”
Here Eveline paused, and looking on the broad expanded plain which extended between the site of the castle and the river, observed how silent and still the morning was rising over what had so lately been a scene of such extensive slaughter.
“It will not be so long,” answered Flammock; “we shall have noise enough, and that nearer to our ears than yesterday.”
“Which way lie the enemy?” said Eveline; “methinks I can spy neither tents nor pavilions.”
“They use none, lady,” answered Wilkin Flammock. “Heaven has denied them the grace and knowledge to weave linen enough for such a purpose — Yonder they lie on both sides of the river, covered with nought but their white mantles. Would one think that a host of thieves and cut-throats could look so like the finest object in nature — a well-spread bleaching-field!— Hark!— hark — the wasps are beginning to buzz; they will soon be plying their stings.”
In fact, there was heard among the Welsh army a low and indistinct murmur, like that of
“Bees alarmed and arming in their hives.”
Terrified at the hollow menacing sound, which grew louder every moment, Rose, who had all the irritability of a sensitive temperament, clung to her father’s arm, saying, in a terrified whisper, “It is like the sound of the sea the night before the great inundation.”
“And it betokens too rough weather for woman to be abroad in,” said Flammock. “Go to your chamber, Lady Eveline, if it be your will — and go you too, Roschen — God bless you both — ye do but keep us idle here.”
And, indeed, conscious that she had done all that was incumbent upon her, and fearful lest the chill which she felt creeping over her own heart should infect others, Eveline took her vassal’s advice, and withdrew slowly to her own apartment, often casting back her eye to the place where the Welsh, now drawn out and under arms, were advancing their ridgy battalions, like the waves of an approaching tide.
The Prince of Powys had, with considerable military skill, adopted a plan of attack suitable to the fiery genius of his followers, and calculated to alarm on every point the feeble garrison.
相关的主题文章：
No comments:
Post a Comment