"It will not be so long," answered Flammock; "we shall have noise enough, and that nearer to our ears than yesterday." "Which way lie the enemy?" said Eveline; "methinks I can spy neither tents nor pavilions." "They use none, lady," answered Wilkin Flammock. "Heaven has denied them the grace and knowledge to weave linen enough for such a purpose--Yonder they lie on both sides of the river, covered with nought but their white mantles. Would one think that a host of thieves and cut-throats could look so like the finest object in nature--a well-spread bleaching-field!--Hark!--hark--the wasps are beginning to buzz; they will soon be plying their stings." In fact, there was heard among the Welsh army a low and indistinct murmur, like that of "Bees alarmed and arming in their hives." Terrified at the hollow menacing sound, which grew louder every moment, Rose, who had all the irritability of a sensitive temperament, clung to her father's arm, saying, in a terrified whisper, "It is like the sound of the sea the night before the great inundation." "And it betokens too rough weather for woman to be abroad in," said Flammock. "Go to your chamber, Lady Eveline, if it be your will--and go you too, Roschen--God bless you both--ye do but keep us idle here." And, indeed, conscious that she had done all that was incumbent upon her, and fearful lest the chill which she felt creeping over her own heart should infect others, Eveline took her vassal's advice, and withdrew slowly to her own apartment, often casting back her eye to the place where the Welsh, now drawn out and under arms, were advancing their ridgy battalions, like the waves of an approaching tide. The Prince of Powys had, with considerable military skill, adopted a plan of attack suitable to the fiery genius of his followers, and calculated to alarm on every point the feeble garrison.