“Madam, I have but received a gift. ‘For it is ghouun (given) to you for Christ, that not oonli ghe (ye) bileuen in him, but also that ghe suffren for him.’”
“Can you so take it, it is well.” And the old lady turned aside with a sigh.
“Ay,” said the Lollard priest, “it was well with the Shunammite gentlewoman. And after all, it is but a little while ere our Lord is coming. ’Tis light gear to watch for the full day, when you see the sun gilding the crests of the mountains.”
“Yet when you see not the sun—?”
“Then, Lady, you long the more for his coming.”
There was no slight stir that morning on Berkhamsted Green. The whole Court was gathered there, fringed on its outskirts by a respectful and admiring crowd of sight-seers. Under a spreading tree sat the King, on a fine black charger, a hooded hawk borne upon his wrist. Close beside him was a little white palfrey, bearing a lady, and on her wrist also was a hooded hawk. They were apparently waiting for somebody. In front, the Prince of Wales, being of an active turn of mind, was amusing himself by making his horse prance and curvet all about the green, and levelling invisible lances at imperceptible foes—to the intense interest of the outside crowd.
“Late, late, my Lord of Kent!” he cried lightly, as a bay charger shot past him, its rider doffing his plumed cap.
Kent merely bowed again in answer, and rode rapidly up to the King.
“Better late than never, fair Cousin!” was Henry’s greeting. “We will forth at once. Will you ride by our fair guest?—The Lady Lucy of Milan!”