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Page 38
The light was gone from Gilbert's countenance, and he stared wildly into
the lovely and mournful face before him.
"Not in the love you propose," she resumed. Hitherto she had spoken
seriously and without agitation, but now her whole manner was changed.
Her cheek glowed and her eyes gleamed: a sudden animation appeared in
every limb. She took a step forward, and bent over the still kneeling
youth, fixing upon his a steady, penetrating gaze, as though she sought
to read his inmost soul.
"Tell me, Gilbert de Hers," she said, "do you truly desire peace between
us?"
"As I live," replied Gilbert, "yes!"
"Do you desire it for the love of God, and because our enmity displeases
Him?"
"Yes."
"Then consecrate yourself to the attainment of that peace! Let no
selfish motive spur you on! Look to heaven for your recompense, not to
me I Aspire to eternal favor, not to mortal love! As for me--my days are
numbered here!--but what remains of life, I devote to the same holy end.
We will labor together, though apart, in a noble cause--our prayers
shall be the same--our hopes the same--our actions guided by the same
resolves! If I should die before our task is done--if my death fail to
soften my father's heart--falter not in your enterprise! With the grace
of God, I shall be with you still! Fix your heart _there!_"
Her trembling finger was raised to heaven as she spoke, and in the
splendor of her pious enthusiasm, she seemed rather the guardian Angel
of the youth than a daughter of earth.
Gilbert remained as one entranced--he did not even hear the sharp scream
that burst from Linda, as Bertha, with her hair streaming wildly over
her face and neck, darted toward them through the corridor, followed by
a dozen men-at-arms.
"Fly! fly! my lady!" cried the terrified neif, setting the example.
But Margaret remained firm.
"Rise!" she said to Gilbert, who still knelt as if turned to stone.
Alive to her voice, he sprang to his feet.
"Back!" cried the Lady Margaret to the leader of the party, who was now
within a few feet of her.
"Pardon me, my lady," said the man, bowing deeply; "your sire has
commanded us to arrest the harp-bearer."
The maiden reflected an instant, and then said: "Offer him no
violence--take him before my father--I will accompany you."
Gilbert had drawn his sword, but at a sign from the Lady Margaret,
replaced it in his belt, and suffered himself to be seized by two of the
men of Stramen. Margaret led the way along the corridor, followed by
Bertha, whose voice could be heard at times mingling with the clang of
the heavy feet that waked a hundred echoes along the vaulted passage.
Had Gilbert looked behind him as he left the ravine, he would have seen
a female figure there--that figure had dogged him ever since. Bertha was
again his evil spirit: with a peculiar cunning, she had followed him
unobserved to the interview with the Lady Margaret, and then
communicated her suspicions by gestures and broken sentences to the
baron. Scarce knowing whether to credit the confused story of the
unfortunate woman, Sir Sandrit had ordered Gilbert's arrest, rather to
get rid of Bertha's importunity than as a prudent or necessary measure.
When the youth entered the room with Margaret, Bertha, and his armed
escort, the baron said, without any irritation:
"Is this a Bohemian, my daughter? Has he been telling your fortune?"
But the Lady Margaret was silent.
"Unmuffle that churl," pursued the knight, manifesting some impatience;
"let us see what lurks beneath that sordid cowl."
"Hold!" cried the youth, arresting the lifted arm of his guard and
uncovering his head with his own hand. "There is no motive for
concealment now, sir," he continued, meeting without flinching the
kindling eye of the baron. "I am Gilbert de Hers!"
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