"Will not betray us, dearest Madeline! be assured of that; the good priest loves me well."
With some reluctance, she consented to meet him in the gloaming, at the place appointed, on the morrow's eve. He kissed her hand, and they separated; but so long as her light figure and her waving riding-skirt were visible, he continued to gaze after her, as slowly and thoughtfully he rode up the winding way that led to the gate of his home. He gave a glance towards Soltra and Dumprender Law; still their summits were dark, and no spark of light thereon as yet gave token of the coming foe.
The evening was dark, and the tints of the landscape were sombre and sad. It was the autumn of the year, and in his heart the ripe autumn of a love, that might have no spring or summer.
On this night the grim and indignant Lady Alison did not appear; and Florence, who, by his recent unexpected interview, and the hope of another with Madeline Home, felt as if he was in the midst of some tremendous treason against the peace and honour of his own family, experienced some relief in the absence of his mother; for such is the power that may be attained by a strong temper and resolute will over a gentle and affectionate, but better nature. And now such was the tender influence of Madeline, that Florence had returned with every angry passion and bitterness soothed, and he became happy again, for he seemed yet to hear her sweet voice lingering in his ear, and the last Mss they had exchanged in the old chapel of St. Martin seemed yet to be hovering on his lip and thrilling through his heart.
CHAPTER XXXIX.
THE LURE.
I will have such revenges on you both,
That all the world shall—I will do such things,—
What they are, yet I know not; but they shall be
The terrors of the earth. You think I'll weep;
No, I'll not weep.
King Lear.
Next day Lady Alison was moody, reserved, and sullen; she spoke little, or muttered as she sat in the bay of the hall window whirling her spindle, or secluded herself in her bower-chamber. Maud, the old nurse, who had lost a husband and two brothers in the feud with the Hamiltons, alone shared her angry communings; and even Roger, the bailie, who deemed himself one of the dame's chief counsellors and prime minister, on this day found her morose and unapproachable. Florence dreaded a renewal of the conversation of yesterday; thus, avoiding the presence of his mother, he busied himself among the horses of his retainers, seeing that all were carefully shod and proved to be sound in wind and limb, while an armourer from Edinburgh was at work on the iron trappings of steed and man. The grindstone was whirling in the court-yard; and songs were sung and tales told of the wars of James IV; while blades were burnished and pike-heads pointed and tempered anew: for now, like a thousand other castles in Scotland, the little fortalice of Fawside resounded with the bustle of military preparation.
So passed the noon of day. Florence watched the western verging of the sun as evening drew near, and the rays revolved round the dial. Then his heart beat quicker with anticipated happiness; for the hour of his meeting with Madeline drew nearer and more near. Yet time never seemed to pass so slowly.
As the hours of this long day succeeded each other, Lady Alison strove to smother the angry scorn her son's too peaceful spirit roused within her; but being loath to nurse this growing bitterness against him, she sought him in the garden, which then lay on the sloping bank to the southward of the tower wall.