Alas! some floating bush may have misled the old man, for all at once they seemed to be carried down stream and disappear, as if they had missed the ford, or the current had been too strong for men weighted with armour.
Sir Ralph had mounted his foot page behind him, and the scion of another noble house was lost.
Their esquires, following behind, had been impotent to save, and only by turning sharply round and fighting with the rising waters did they manage to preserve their own lives.
Day by day as the thick waters subsided did the search continue along the devastated banks until the dark Derwent, rolling its great volume of water into the Trent, barred further passage, and made the quest hopeless.
A silken scarf caught in a bush, a broken lance and pennon, a battered casque, a saddle-bow, were all the relics found of father, bridegrooms, page.
Lady Bellamont was borne down by the shock. Avice drooped like a broken lily; only Idonea seemed capable of thought or action.
The subsidence of the flood brought spurring in the more prudent party to comfort their own wives and daughters, along with the downcast esquires to tell the needless tale.
There was no consoling Lady Bellamont. She seemed to take the triple loss to her own heart, and grieve for her daughters as much as for herself.
In vain the prior offered such consolation as his faith afforded. She sat like a stone, rigid and immovable; would take no sustenance whatever.
The tears shed over her by Idonea and Avice seemed to petrify as they fell rather than melt. Their affliction but intensified her own.