St. George and St. Michael, Volume 2MacDonald, George
History
St. George and St. Michael, Volume 2
MacDonald, George
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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