But the wounded page only tossed on his couch and uttered a sound, half groan, half smothered exclamation of furious rage.
"Ah, poor lad! he suffers much. I fear me these are febrile signs. 'Twill be well to have the worthy and pious Sir Simon Halbard to bleed him. He is something of a leech, and was infirmarer once, I heard, at Quarr Abbey; but thy tale will solace him, and take away his thoughts from the pain of the wound."
Ralph longed to get away, but he was too polite to refuse to do what Lady Trenchard asked him. He began--determining to make the narrative as brief as possible--to tell the chief events of the afternoon.
As he told of the Breton knight being stuck in the mud, a grunt of satisfaction proceeded from Bowerman.
"Ah! thou seest, Master Lisle. I told thee thy tale would solace him, and help to drive away his pain," said Lady Trenchard complacently.
When Ralph came to the nuns, and told how they had so willingly brought refreshment for Yolande, of whom, by the way, he scarcely spoke at all, Lady Trenchard remarked,--
"Ah, the Lady Abbess of Saint Clare, without Aldgate, wrote to me to go over and see the two new sisters who have come down of late. I am glad thou hast reminded me of this, fair page. There is one in whom she taketh much concern, as fearing for her health. She hath had trials in the world, and hath not yet gotten cured of them. And so thou rodest all day with the fair Mistress Yolande?" added the grave and erect Lady Trenchard, with a penetrating glance.
Ralph grew very red.
"Yea, my lady--that is, nay. She rode with my Lord Captain, and I waited on him, as was my duty."
"Ay, and so she rode with the Captain? Like enough, like enough!" Then, after a pause she added, as if in a soliloquy, "Ah well, she won't make much of him, poor lass. His heart's been broke these twelve years or more. 'Tis a sad story, and not one you lads would care to hear."