I fancy that poor princess—after listening to a long, intensely proper discourse from her immaculate husband, or when the young Iulus had been unusually disagreeable—gazing wistfully in the direction where, against the sky-line, rose the clump of plane-trees, under which hot-headed, warm-hearted Turnus was resting after his brief life of storms. Then she would think of that unhappy mother who, with every impulse of a willful nature, loved her child so dearly, till she would begin to doubt—it was very wrong of her—if Amata or the match-making gods were most right after all.
The neighboring peasantry regarded Mohun with mingled dislike and terror—a feeling which was increased tenfold by an event which occurred about three years before my visit, in the height of the agrarian troubles. I can not do better than give it, as near as I can, in the words of one who was an actor in the scene.
CHAPTER XVII.
"Now what wouldst thou do, good my squire,
That rides beside my rein,
Wert thou Glenallan's earl to-day,
And I were Roland Cheyne?
My horse should ride through their ranks sae rude,