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Page 8
Gilbert saw around him the hard, sunburnt features, the stalwart forms
he had marked in the desperate fray; he could touch the hands, now
clasped in prayer, that had been so often raised against him in anger.
Beside him knelt the maiden, with her brow all smooth and unfurrowed by
care, and the matron who, numbering more than double her years, had felt
more than treble her sorrows. The youth was deeply moved, as he gazed,
and thought he might have robbed that mother of her son, that wife of
her husband, that sister of a brother. Those gentle, melancholy beings
had never harmed him, and, perhaps, in a moment of passion, he had
deprived their existence of half its sweetness, and turned their smiles
to tears. It was with an aching, an humbled heart that he bowed his head
until it touched the cold floor, when the Lamb without spot was elevated
for the adoration of the faithful.
A hymn, befitting the occasion, had been intoned, and the priest had
left the altar, but those fervent men and women did not hurry from the
church as if grateful for permission to retire, but lingered to meditate
and pray.
Gilbert remained until all had gone save Henry de Stramen and a lady who
knelt beside him. They rose at length, and, passing so close to Gilbert
that he could distinctly see their faces, left him alone. He was in the
act of rising when the priest appeared, and beckoned him into the
sacristy.
"Remain here," the old man said, taking the youth by the hand.
"I must hurry home, Father," replied Gilbert; "my father will have no
peace, thinking the boar has killed me."
"Let him fret awhile; it is better he should lament you alive, than dead
by the serfs of Stramen."
"They dare not attack me!" exclaimed the youth; "they fear the Church
and my own arm too much for that!"
"Nay, peace!" rejoined the priest; "it is better not to expose them to
the temptation, or you to the danger."
The practicability of spending the night in security in the very teeth
of Stramen Castle had not occurred to Gilbert; he hesitated a second or
two, and then, as if all his plans and ideas had undergone a thorough
revolution, gracefully promised obedience.
"You are right, Father," he said; "and to speak truth, I am weary
enough. If you promise me protection to-night, I will gladly rest my
head wherever you place the pillow."
"Those who sleep with me," whispered his venerable adviser, "must
content themselves without a pillow. But I will promise you a safe
couch, though it is a hard one; the softest beds are not always the
freest from danger. In the mean time, tarry here until I have said some
prayers."
"But my horse," interposed Gilbert.
His companion rang a small bell. A benevolent-looking man, somewhat past
the prime of life, plainly dressed in a black cassock, answered the
call. The priest conversed awhile with him, in an undertone, and then,
ascertaining from Gilbert where his horse was, dismissed the attendant,
remarking that the animal should not suffer.
Motioning Gilbert to a chair, the priest entered the sanctuary. Instead
of sitting down, the young noble leaned against a lancet window which
commanded a view of the neighboring castle. He stood there looking idly
upon the darkening prospect, until the appearance of two persons riding
rapidly along the main road to the castle, aroused his attention. He
followed them eagerly with his eyes until they were completely lost in
the twilight. One of the riders was evidently a woman; but it would be
inquiring too minutely into Gilbert's thoughts to determine whether that
circumstance, or the proneness of youth to become interested in trifles,
excited his curiosity.
Night was fast approaching, and a light from the altar made itself felt
throughout the church. Still the priest knelt before the sacred
tabernacle, and Gilbert longed for his appearance. He grew impatient of
being alone, when a companion was so near at hand; the place was
strange, and there were no well-known objects to stand in the place of
friends, supplying by the thousand associations they conjure up, and
their mute appeals to memory, the absence of language.
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