"Alas, no, Sir Knight! On that score have I sought advice of the venerable archdeacon and other ecclesiastics, but they offer me no hope. Therefore I go hide me in a nunnery, lest Sir Fulke return. We must e'en each bear our fate. We each have our woes. Thou hast lost thy castle."
"Is thy memory so short, lady, that thou sayest it is only my castle I have lost, most miserable of men that I am? Hast forgotten the days--"
"When I came to Bedford Castle with my father and his train to the great tourney," interrupted Lady Margaret, wishing to turn the conversation, and reining in her palfrey that she might turn round to survey the ruins, "'twas a noble sight. How the banners waved from the pavilions on the tilt-ground, and the trumpets blared, and the horses pranced! How like silver ran old Ouse that merry summer's morning, when I sat 'neath the canopy--"
"The Queen of Beauty, fair lady, and rightly so! And how your bright eyes dazzled a certain youth on whom you had deigned to bestow your favour to wear on his crest, and who ill deserved such an honour!"
"But who acquitted himself right gallantly. I can see him still! But all is changed: the castle is no more; we are not what we were; only the old river runs the same. But come, Sir Knight; the reverend mother waits me."
"Lady, it grieveth me sore that the way 'twixt Bedford and Elstow is so short. See how near loometh the abbey tower."
"To me it riseth like the beacon of a port to the weary, wind-driven mariner. Would I could find rest within its walls for aye!"
"Say not so, lady; it sounds to my heart like a funeral knell."
"No fear, Sir Knight; as long as Sir Fulke draws breath no cloister may receive me. The reverend mother tells me that so long as my vows to him are unloosed by death, I can ne'er plight any others; so long as I am his wife, I cannot become the spouse of Christ."
"Alack, lady, how woful a fate is mine! I, too, once plighted vows. Dost recall them, lady? Nay, I received others in return. I can hear them yet. Vows they were, not less sacred than those made to priest before altar. Yet here I stand alone, like some wind-swept oak on the hill-side, bowed before the blast."