Thereupon George gave his sturdy roan steed a sharp cut with the whip, which surprised him greatly. He resented the indignity by plunging from side to side of the rugged road, and by his heavy gambols sending the other horses off in a variety of antics.
When the horses were quieted down again, Humphrey said, laughing,—
'Poor old fellow! he doesn't understand why his master should punish him for the offences of Mistress Lucy Ratcliffe.' Then, more seriously, 'My own heart is heavy within me, but I try to ease the burden by doing what I can to relieve the pain of her whom I love. Action is the best cure for heart sickness.'
'But action is impossible for me, Humphrey. I have only to endure. Here am I, riding back to our home to eat the bread of disappointment, leaving her, for whom I would gladly die, to the temptations of the Court. She will listen to the wooing of some gallant, and my Lady Pembroke will abet it, and then—'
'Then bear it like a man, George; nor break your heart for a maiden, when there are, I doubt not, many who are worthier and—'
'That's fine talking,' poor George said wrathfully. 'What if I were to tell you there are many worthier than the widow of Ambrose Gifford. There are some who say that she was not—'
Humphrey's eyes had an angry light in them as he turned them full on his brother.
'Not a word more, George, of her. I will not brook it; her name is sacred to me as the name of any saint in Heaven.'
George felt he dare say no more, and, after another silence, Humphrey asked,—
'When does our mother propose to return?'