Where England sets her feet: a romanceCapes, Bernard
History
Where England sets her feet: a romance
Capes, Bernard
Adventure stories; Great Britain -- History -- Elizabeth, 1558-1603 -- Fiction; Historical fiction
He felt he could not urge her further without discredit to himself and
insult to that brave young spirit. If, in her eyes, he had forfeited
his right to, in her eyes persistence would but blacken his case; and
that he would not risk. He went back with her to the house, where,
like a proper little hostess, she insisted upon serving him and
Clerivault with a stirrup-cup of sweet metheglin to warm them for
their homeward journey. He kissed his hand to her on starting.
‘Goodbye, dear Alse!’ he said. But she only dropped him a staid little
courtesy in response, with a ‘Fare thee well, Master Middleton.’
He was very silent as he rode back; might have felt even a deeper
preoccupation could he have guessed how those same sweet eyes would go
following his receding figure in imagination, on and on into the
night, until they parted with it in the land of dreams, where hopeless
Fancy yields itself to Oblivion.
‘A winsome little lady, Sir,’ said Clerivault, breaking into his
abstraction, with an odd side-glance. ‘A man might do worse than wive
with such.’
‘Worse!’ He turned on his comrade, with a sudden violence: ‘I tell you
no gentleman of honour and renown but might count it his rich fortune
to possess her--a gentleman--the best--nor such an one as, lapped in
self-sufficiency, forgets past benefits--old claims and affections--a
toad of ingratitude----’
He broke off with a choke, and spurring his horse in a quick fury,
sprang on ahead. The other thought it wise to trail behind and let the
subject be.
On the day following this visit Brion went to say good-bye to his
friend, the Captain of the Queen’s Guard. Raleigh came out to see him
at the postern-gate which lay near his quarters. He was splendidly
equipped, being just about to attend the Queen’s Majesty on some
ceremonial visit, and his manner in consequence was a little
abstracted and hurried, though smilingly genial.
‘Well,’ said he, ‘I should be the last to traverse that decision, who
lured thee hither with a bait so false. Acquit me of that. I am not of
those who would rather lose a friend than a jest. May the next
enterprise I draw thee on to be more fortunate. You’ll remember your
pledge to that?’
‘The expedition? Did I pledge myself?’
‘Or I thee, _for_ thyself. It shall take shape in no long time. ’Tis
such as thou I’ll need, dear lad. And the patriot--above all the
immense patriot.’
Brion laughed, and they parted. That same afternoon he and Clerivault
started on their long journey homeward.
CHAPTER XXIV.
COMMITTED
The three or four years immediately succeeding that of Brion’s first
visit to London were ominous years for England--a fact which she did
not fail to appreciate.
‘There was a listening fear in her regard,
As if calamity had but begun;
As if the vanward clouds of evil days
Had spent their malice, and the sullen rear
Was with its stored thunder labouring up.’
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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