CHAPTER XX.
WAR'S VICISSITUDES.
"Hope tells a flattering tale,
Delusive, vain, and hollow.
Ah! let not hope prevail,
Lest disappointment follow."
Miss Wrother.
The desperate repulse which the Normans received at the hands of the Saxon outlaws, made them exceedingly chary of attempting again the extermination of them. This afforded a welcome respite to the fugitives, particularly to the women and children. But the vigilance of their sentinels was never permitted to be relaxed. The retreat to which Ethel had been conveyed was thus free from alarms, and lacked nothing in picturesqueness and beauty. Oswald had taken care that it should be furnished with some comfort and taste, for he had been wont in summertime to spend often many days, and even weeks, in this secluded and lovely spot. To Ethel, this home in the mountains was dearly welcome. During the day she busied herself with the books of history, travel, and romance which Oswald loved; and at even her countenance brightened at his cheery words and pleasant greetings. But for some days a strange feeling of anxiety and foreboding had clouded her happiness; for more than a week Oswald had not so much as paid a hurried visit to his favourite rendezvous.
"Your master has not been here for more than a week, Bretwul," said she one day, when her anxiety for tidings could no longer be resisted. "Do you know what detains him? I fear me he has fallen into the hands of the Normans."
"He will not fall into the hands of the Normans so easily, lady. If he does it will only be his body, though I am afraid he ventures on some desperate enterprises."
"Whither has he gone, Bretwul? Know you?"