Another step still remained to be taken. She, hastened to the Chapel of the Virgin, and prostrating herself before her divine protectress, returned thanks for her second deliverance, and implored her guidance and direction, and, through her intercession, that of Almighty God, for the disposal and regulation of her conduct. "Thou knowest," she said, "that from no confidence in my own strength, have I thrust myself into danger. Oh, make me strong where I am most weak--Let not my gratitude and my compassion be a snare to me; and while I strive to discharge the duties which thankfulness imposes on me, save me from the evil tongues of men--and save--oh, save me from the insidious devices of my own heart!" She then told her rosary with devout fervour, and retiring from the chapel to her own apartment, summoned her women to adjust her dress, and remove the external appearance of the violence to which she had been so lately subjected. CHAPTER THE TWENTY-SEVENTH _Julia._----Gentle sir, You are our captive--but we'll use you so, That you shall think your prison joys may match Whate'er your liberty hath known of pleasure. _Roderick._ No, fairest, we have trifled here too long; And, lingering to see your roses blossom, I've let my laurels wither. OLD PLAY. Arrayed in garments of a mourning colour, and of a fashion more matronly than perhaps altogether befitted her youth--plain to an extremity, and devoid of all ornament, save her rosary--Eveline now performed the duty of waiting upon her wounded deliverer; a duty which the etiquette of the time not only permitted, but peremptorily enjoined. She was attended by Rose and Dame Gillian. Margery, whose element was a sick-chamber, had been already despatched to that of the young knight, to attend to whatever his condition might require. Eveline entered the room with a light step, as if unwilling to disturb the patient. She paused at the door, and cast her eyes around her. It had been her father's chamber; nor had she entered it since his violent death. Around the walls hung a part of his armour and weapons, with hawking gloves, hunting-poles, and other instruments of silvan sport. These relics brought as it were in living form before her the stately presence of old Sir Raymond. "Frown not, my father,"--her lips formed the words, though her voice did not utter them--"Frown not--Eveline will never be unworthy of thee." Father Aldrovand, and Amelot, the page of Damian, were seated by the bedside. They rose as Lady Eveline entered; and the first, who meddled a little with the healing art, said to Eveline "that the knight had slumbered for some time, and was now about to awake."