A March on London: Being a Story of Wat Tyler's InsurrectionHenty, G. A. (George Alfred)
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A March on London: Being a Story of Wat Tyler's Insurrection
Henty, G. A. (George Alfred)
Tyler's Insurrection, 1381 -- Juvenile fiction
"We had not thought of being unkind, Aline," Albert said, quietly.
"When we began I did not feel sure that either my strength or my
resolution would suffice to carry me through, and indeed it was at
first very painful work for me, having never before taken any strong
exercise, and often I would have given it up from the pain and fatigue
that it caused me, had not Edgar urged me to persevere, saying that in
time I should feel neither pain nor weariness. Therefore, at first I
said nothing to you, knowing that it would disappoint you did I give it
up, and then when my arm gained strength, and Edgar encouraged me by
praising my progress, and I began to hope that I might yet come to be
strong and gain skill with the weapon, I kept it back in order that I
might, as I have done to-day, have the pleasure of surprising you, as
well as my father, by showing that I was not so great a milksop as you
had rightly deemed me."
"I never thought that you were a milksop, Albert," his sister said,
indignantly. "I knew that you were not strong, and was sorry for it,
but it was much nicer for me that you should be content to walk and
ride with me, and to take interest in things that I like, instead of
being like Henry Nevil or Richard Clairvaux, who are always talking and
thinking of nothing but how they would go to the wars, and what they
would do there."
"There was no need that I should do that, Aline. Edgar is a much better
swordsman than either of them, and knows much more, and is much more
likely to be a famous knight some day than either Nevil or Clairvaux,
but I am certain that you do not hear him talk about it."
"No, Edgar is nice, too," the girl said, frankly, "and very strong. Do
you not remember how he carried me home more than two miles, when a
year ago I fell down when I was out with you, and sprained my ankle.
And now, Albert, perhaps some day you will get so strong that you may
not think of going into the Church and shutting yourself up all your
life in a cloister, but may come to be famous too."
"I have not thought of that, Aline," he said, gravely. "If ever I did
change my mind, it would be that I might always be with Edgar and be
great friends with him, all through our lives, just as we are now."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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