Great Britain -- History -- Civil War, 1642-1649 -- Fiction
On all sides the green fields, cow-cropped, divided by hedge-rows, and
spotted with trees, single and in clumps, came close to the castle
walls, except in one or two places where the corner of a red ploughed
field came wedging in. All was so quiet and so soft that the gaunt old
walls looked as if, having at first with harsh intrusion forced their
way up into the sweet realm of air from the stony regions of the earth
beneath, by slow degrees, yet long since, they had suffered an air
change, and been charmed and gentled into harmony with soft winds and
odours and moonlight. To Dorothy it seemed as if peace itself had taken
form in the feathery weight that filled the flaky air; and as her horse
galloped along, flying like a bird over ditch and mound, her own heart
so light that her body seemed to float above the saddle rather than rest
upon it, she felt like a soul which, having been dragged to hell by a
lurking fiend, a good and strong angel was bearing aloft into bliss. Few
delights can equal the mere presence of one whom we trust utterly.
No mastiff came to Dorothy's whistle, and having finished their round,
they rode back to the stables, put up their horses, and rejoined lady
Margaret, where she was still pacing the sunk walk around the moat.
There lord Herbert showed Dorothy where her dog vanished, comforting her
with the assurance that nothing should be altered before the faithful
animal returned, as doubtless he would the moment he despaired of
finding her in the open country.
Lord Herbert said nothing to his father that night lest he should spoil
his rest, for he was yet far from well, but finding him a good deal
better the next morning, he laid open the whole matter to him according
to his convictions concerning Dorothy and her behaviour, ending with the
words: 'That maiden, my lord, hath truth enough in her heart to serve
the whole castle, an' if it might be but shared. To doubt her is to
wrong the very light. I fear there are not many maidens in England who
would have the courage and honesty, necessary both, to act as she hath
done.'
The marquis listened attentively, and when lord Herbert had ended, sat a
few moments in silence; then, for all answer, said,
'Go and fetch her, my lad.'
When Dorothy entered,--
'Come hither, maiden,' he said from his chair. 'Wilt thou kiss an old
man who hath wronged thee--for so my son hath taught me?'
Dorothy stooped, and he kissed her on both cheeks, with the tears in his
eyes.
'Thou shalt dine at my table,' he said, 'an' thy mistress will permit
thee, as I doubt not she will when I ask her, until--thou art weary of
our dull company. Hear me, cousin Dorothy: an' thou wilt go with us to
mass next Sunday, thou shalt sit on one side of me and thy mistress on
the other, and all the castle shall see thee there, and shall know that
thou art our dear cousin, mistress Dorothy Vaughan, and shall do thee
honour.'
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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