Rose plainly saw that her lady was under feelings of excitation, which might render it difficult for her to take a wise and prudent view of her own situation. She endeavoured gradually to awaken her to a sense of it. "Dearest lady," said Rose, "will it please you to take my mantle?" "Torment me not," answered Eveline, with some sharpness in her accent. "Indeed, my lady," said Dame Gillian, bustling up as one who feared her functions as mistress of the robes might be interfered with--"indeed, my lady, Rose Flammock speaks truth; and neither your kirtle nor your gown are sitting as they should do; and, to speak truth, they are but barely decent. And so, if Rose will turn herself, and put her horse out of my way," continued the tire- woman, "I will put your dress in better order in the sticking in of a bodkin, than any Fleming of them all could do in twelve hours." "I care not for my dress," replied Eveline, in the same manner as before. "Care then for your honour--for your fame," said Rose, riding close to her mistress, and whispering in her ear; "think, and that hastily, how you are to dispose of this wounded young man." "To the castle," answered Eveline aloud, as if scorning the affectation of secrecy; "lead to the castle, and that straight as you can." "Why not rather to his own camp, or to Malpas?" said Rose-- "dearest lady, believe, it will be for the best." "Wherefore not--wherefore not?--wherefore not leave him on the way-side at once, to the knife of the Welshman, and the teeth of the wolf?-Once--twice--three times has he been my preserver. Where I go, he shall go; nor will I be in safety myself a moment sooner than I know that he is so." Rose saw that she could make no impression on her mistress, and her own reflection told her that the wounded man's life might be endangered by a longer transportation than was absolutely necessary. An expedient occurred to her, by which she imagined this objection might be obviated; but it was necessary she should consult her father. She struck her palfrey with her riding-rod, and in a moment her diminutive, though beautiful figure, and her spirited little jennet, were by the side of the gigantic Fleming and his tall black horse, and riding, as it were, in their vast shadow. "My dearest father," said Rose, "the lady intends that Sir Damian be transported to the castle, where it is like he may be a long sojourner;--what think you?-is that wholesome counsel?" "Wholesome for the youth, surely, Roschen," answered the Fleming, "because he will escape the better risk of a fever." "True; but is it wise for my lady?" continued Rose. "Wise enough, if she deal wisely. But wherefore shouldst thou doubt her, Roschen?"