"We shall expect you to-night, Father," she said, pausing but a moment.
Father Omehr nodded, and dismissed the children, who had come for a parting blessing, while the maiden turned her palfrey toward the castle. She rode swiftly, for dark clouds were climbing up the knew the extent of his infatuation, he was revolving the feasibility of revealing his attachment. At last he had determined to embrace the first chance of declaring a love now past concealment.
At the same time that the Lady Margaret was speeding to Stramen Castle, Gilbert was standing on the top of a steep hill that rose abruptly some distance to the north of that on which the towers of his fathers were built. He found a pleasure in surveying the majestic masses of thick dark clouds, that slowly overspread the West and swallowed up the sun. There seemed to be a mysterious sympathy between him and the angry elements, or perhaps he felt flattered to find the deep thunder and arrowy lightning less potent than the feelings within his bosom. He laughed at the coming storm, while the eagle flew by with a shriek, and the cattle sought any casual shelter. But, as he was not ambitious of becoming thoroughly wet, he sprang down the hill when the big drops began to fall, and entered a neat cottage situated in the opening of a rich valley, that swept from the hills toward the lake.
"What! alone, Humbert?" said the youth. "Your wife and children are not out in this storm, I hope?"
"They are praying in the next room," replied the man, sinking his voice.
Gilbert turned to the window; but the rain was now pouring down in torrents, and he could discern nothing but the lightning. Humbert was a favorite with the Lord of Hers. He played upon the harp with more than common skill, and could personate the regular minnesinger to perfection. His stock of ballads was inexhaustible, and some of his original songs might well compare with his borrowed lore. Besides this, he was a daring huntsman, an expert falconer, and a trusty follower.
"Humbert!" exclaimed the youth, in a searching whisper, "would you like to play the minnesinger in this storm?"
The retainer smiled and replied, "Yes, if I were a bull, and could bellow the lay."
But Gilbert answered, without relaxing a muscle, "You will not be called upon to play until you can be heard."
"Then we might as well wait until to-morrow," said the other, with great sangfroid, looking over Gilbert's shoulder at the rain.