"Oh, may you ever feel thus!" cried the cavalier, eagerly; "for it was such faith brought back the dove to the ark at length. Yet often, when we see a world of roaring waters around us, and destruction on every side, the heart will sink, and trust and confidence give way for a time. But still," he added, laughing, "I am not one to entertain many sombre thoughts; and if the gay companions of thoughtless hours could know with what sad ideas I have entertained a fair lady, they would recommend me a Geneva skull-cap and a straight black cloak. I can assure you, our talk in the court is much less solemn. Except for an hour in the morning, when we speak soberly of war and policy, as men take a walk after breakfast for a good digestion, our days pass much in the consideration of lace collars, the fashion of sword-knots, and of how to get them. The world, I believe, and most of the things in it, are not worth the waste of five minutes' heavy thought; and, weighed in a just balance, perhaps, a madrigal and a charge of horse, a sonnet of tiffany poetry, and the plan of a campaign, are matters much more nearly of the same importance than we think.--But there comes your brother, or I am mistaken."
"Yes, yes!" cried the lady, gladly, gazing out of the open window into the valley, along which a small party of horsemen were riding: "he will be here directly." And she and her companion, whose conversation had greatly won upon her, continued watching the progress of the young Lord Walton, as he rode rapidly along the valley, till he was hid behind the high-wooded banks, near which, as we have already related, he paused to hold a short conversation with poor Arrah Neil. They wondered what detained him so long under the trees; but after a brief pause he appeared again, and in a few minutes he sprang from his horse at the hall-door.
[CHAPTER IV.]
"Ha, Francis!" exclaimed Lord Walton, grasping the cavalier's hand with warm eagerness, as soon as he had received the embrace of his sister, "are you here before me? You must have used the spur from Worcester, if your letter left the good town before you."
"I have used the spur, Charles," replied his friend, "on purpose to outrun you, and introduce myself to this fair lady without your assistance. You know I was always the most impatient of mortals, and strange, I fear, she thought me; for I could plainly see that she had never heard the name of Francis Clare before." He spoke the last words with a gay laugh and some emphasis.
"Perhaps not," answered Lord Walton, with a grave smile; "but she must know you now, Francis, as one of her brother's dearest and oldest friends. However, I must send her away from us for a minute, for I have a task for her, sad, but pleasing to perform. I just now found poor Arrah Neil, dear Annie," he continued; "she was sitting by the Bishop's Well, dark and sorrowful, as well she may be. The poor old man Neil is dead. They dragged him as far as Devizes, where the lamp that has burned so faintly for the last two years went out, and the poor girl has found her way back hither. Something must be done for her, Annie; and till we can settle what, she must stay here. I left Langan with her to bring her up; so see to her comfort, sister, for by her dress I think they must have robbed her by the way."
"Poor child!" cried Annie Walton. "I was sure the old man would die. Can these really be Christians, Charles--for a few rash words, spoken in haste, to take a man of seventy from his sick bed?"
"His words meant more than they seemed, Annie," answered her brother; "at least, so I gather from their answer to my application for his release; but see to her comfort, dear girl, and then come back to us, for the poor thing spoke of some evil hanging over me here, and, though at times so strange, I have often remarked she speaks not lightly."
"No indeed, Charles," replied his sister, with an anxious look. "Evil hanging over you? What can she mean?"
"I know not, Annie," replied Lord Walton. "Nothing has happened to cause you alarm, has there?"