"What can I do that is good?
Here I must bide, and talk and sew and spin, and spin and sew and talk.
Ever the same dull round, with nothing at the end of it.
And now you are going too, who could carry my thoughts out of these gray walls, and raise my mind above tapestry and distaffs.
What can I do?
I am of no more use or value than that broken bowstave."
"You are of such value to me," he cried, in a whirl of hot, passionate words, "that all else has become nought.
You are my heart, my life, my one and only thought.
Oh, Maude, I cannot live without you, I cannot leave you without a word of love.
All is changed to me since I have known you.
I am poor and lowly and all unworthy of you; but if great love may weigh down such defects, then mine may do it.
Give me but one word of hope to take to the wars with me--but one.
Ah, you shrink, you shudder!
My wild words have frightened you."
Twice she opened her lips, and twice no sound came from them.
At last she spoke in a hard and measured voice, as one who dare not trust herself to speak too freely.
"This is over sudden," she said; "it is not so long since the world was nothing to you.
You have changed once; perchance you may change again."
"Cruel!" he cried, "who hath changed me?"
"And then your brother," she continued with a little laugh, disregarding his question.
"Methinks this hath become a family custom amongst the Edricsons.
Nay, I am sorry; I did not mean a jibe.
But, indeed, Alleyne, this hath come suddenly upon me, and I scarce know what to say."
"Say some word of hope, however distant--some kind word that I may cherish in my heart."
"Nay, Alleyne, it were a cruel kindness, and you have been too good and true a friend to me that I should use you despitefully.
There cannot be a closer link between us.
It is madness to think of it.
Were there no other reasons, it is enough that my father and your brother would both cry out against it."
"My brother, what has he to do with it?
And your father----"
"Come, Alleyne, was it not you who would have me act fairly to all men, and, certes, to my father amongst them?"
"You say truly," he cried, "you say truly. But you do not reject me, Maude?
You give me some ray of hope?
I do not ask pledge or promise.
Say only that I am not hateful to you--that on some happier day I may hear kinder words from you."
Her eyes softened upon him, and a kind answer was on her lips, when a hoarse shout, with the clatter of arms and stamping of steeds, rose up from the bailey below.
At the sound her face set her eyes sparkled, and she stood with flushed cheek and head thrown back--a woman's body, with a soul of fire.
"My father hath gone down," she cried.
"Your place is by his side.
Nay, look not at me, Alleyne.
It is no time for dallying.
Win my father's love, and all may follow.
It is when the brave soldier hath done his devoir that he hopes for his reward, Farewell, and may God be with you!"
She held out her white, slim hand to him, but as he bent his lips over it she whisked away and was gone, leaving in his outstretched hand the very green veil for which poor Peter Terlake had craved in vain.
Again the hoarse cheering burst out from below, and he heard the clang of the rising portcullis.
Pressing the veil to his lips, he thrust it into the bosom of his tunic, and rushed as fast as feet could bear him to arm himself and join the muster.
The raw morning had broken ere the hot spiced ale had been served round and the last farewell spoken.
A cold wind blew up from the sea and ragged clouds drifted swiftly across the sky.
The Christchurch townsfolk stood huddled about the Bridge of Avon, the women pulling tight their shawls and the men swathing themselves in their gaberdines, while down the winding path from the castle came the van of the little army, their feet clanging on the hard, frozen road.
First came Black Simon with his banner, bestriding a lean and powerful dapple-gray charger, as hard and wiry and warwise as himself.