The national era. [volume] (Washington [D.C.]) 1847-1860, 1855-03-08

the clear light, as if they were compact of da
monds. Aradas was alone dismounted, hold
ing the stirrup for his lord until he had mount
ed, when he sprang, all armed he was, into the
.sadde. The Zimmerman at once displayed
the square banner of his lord, the trumpetei
made the old ramparts ring with the old gath
erng blast of the house of de Taillebois, and
two and two, the glittering men alarms defiled
through the castle gate, and wound down the
steep hill side long to be traced from the battle
ments, now seen, now lost among the woods and
coppices, a line of sinuous light, creeping, like
huge glow worm. over the dark champaign.
Before they reached the lake shore, however
the moon rose, round and red, from behind the
Yorkshire fells and. extinguishing their fam
beaux, they prickcd rapidly forward through
the country, which, intricate as it was, soon be-
came as light as at MONDAY.
| On the other side of the lake, circumstances
of very different nature, though arising from
| the same causes, were occurring. Early in the
afternoon, while Kenric was absent on his
rounds, a single rider, plainly clad and un.
armed, except his sword, made his appearance,
riding up the valley from the direction of Ken.
dial, and soon pulling up at the cottage, inquired
the road to Rydal. Then, on being informed
that there was no pass through the hills in that
direction, and that he ought to have turned of
TO the eastward, through a gap five miles be-
low, he asked permission to dismount and rest
himself and his horse awhile, favor which
Edith readily conceded. Dat cakes and cheese,
then, as now, the peculiar dainties of the dales.
men, with home-brewed mead, were set before
him, his horse was fed, and every act of hospi-
tally which could be done to the most honored
| guest was extended to him. He observed
everything, noted everything, especially the
crossbow which Eadwulf had brought with him
| on his late inopportune arrival, learned the
name and station Of his entertainer, and how
| he was the tenant of the lord of Hawkshead,
Yewdale. Coniston, and Kentmere, and verdur-
err of the forest in which he dwelt; and then,
offering money, which was refused, mounted
his horse, and rode back toward Kendall more
rapidly than he came.
| So soon as kenric returned from his rounds
he was informed of all that had passed, when
simply observing, q" Ha! it has come already
has it? L scarce expected it so soon," he babe
one of the boys get the pony ready, and prepare
himself to go round the lake to the castle, and
then safe down with his wife to the evening
meal, which she had prepared for him.
| When they were alone, "Now, Edith, my
DEAR he said, "the time has come for which
we have been so long waiting. / know for GER
tain that Sir Foulke dolly is in Kendall, and
our good lord will know it likewise before this
time. Therefore, there is no danger that will
not be prevented almost before it is begun
That shall be taken, either by violence or by
legal arrest, this night, is certain-though
think probably by violence, since no true cap
ton may be made after sunset"
Then, why not escape at once? 2" asked his
fair wife, opening her great blue eyes wider
than their wont. "Why not go straight to the
castle, and place yourself in my lords safe
guard?"
"For two reasons, wife Of mine each enough
First, this Is my post, and l must hold it, unit
removed or forced from II. Second, my lord
| deems it best j should be taken now, and
the matter ended But this applies not to you
or my mother The Normans must find neither
of you here; no woman young or old, is safe
whore Foulke d'Oilly's men are about. You
must wrap the old woman as warm. as you may
and have her off on the pony to Ambleside as
quickly as may be. Ralph shall go with you
| am on thorns and nettes until you are gone
81 will never leave you, Kenric. 1t is use
less to speak of it-never!"
sob! yes you will, Edith" he answered
quietly. "Oh, yes, you will, for half dozer
reasons, though one is enough, for that matter
First, you will not see my mother dead through
your obstinacy. Second, you will not stay to be
outraged yourself, before my very eyes, without
my having power to aid you
'"Kenric i"
alt is mere truth, Edith, Thirdly, it is your
duty to co. and last, it is my will that you go
and never knew you refuse that"
| "Nor ever WILL Kenric; though it break my
heart to do it."
| "Tush! tush girl; hearts are tough things
and do not break so easily; and when you kiss
me tomorrow at the castle, you'll think of this
no more. See, here's the boy with the pony
l Al. Al.
out, and get on your cloak and wimple, that's
a good lass / would not have you here when
Foull1e d'Oily's riders come, no! not to be the
| Lord of kentmere. Hurry! hurry!"
| Many minutes had not passed, before, after
a long embrace, and flood of tears on the
part of Edith, the two women mounted on the
| sturdy pony, the wife in the saddle and the
aged mother seated on a sort of high-backed
| pillion, made like the seat of an armed chair
and secured by broad belt to the waist of hel
daughter, took their way across the wooded
hills, toward Ambleside, the boy Ralph leading
the animal by the head, and two brace of noble
alans, his masters property, which Kenric did
not choose to expose to the cupidity of his ex
pected captors, gambolling in front, or follow
| ing gravely at heel, according to their various
| qualities of age and temper.
| The son and husband gazed after them wist
| fully, so long as they remained in sight; and
| when, as they crossed the last ridge of the low
intermediate hills which divide the narrow glen
Of the upper Kent from the broader dale o.
| Winandermcre, standing out in bold relic
| against the strong light of the western sky
Edith waved her kerchief, he drew his hard
hand across his brow, turned into his desolate
dwelling, and, sitting down by the hearth was
! soon lost in gloomy meditation.
Darkness soon fell over lake and meadow
mountain and upland. Hundreds of stars we're
twinkling in the clear sky, to which touch Of
FROST not unusual at this early season among
those hill regions, had lent an uncommon bril-
lance, but the moon had not yet risen.
Kenric was now becoming restless and i'm
patient, and, as is frequently the case when We
are awaiting even the most painful things
which we know to be inevitable, he soon found
himself wishing that the time would come, that
ne might know the worst, and feeling that the
suspense was worse than almost any reality.
Several times he went to the door, and stood
gazing down the valley, over the brown wood.
and gray, ghmmering waters, to look and listen
II he might discover any signs of the coming
danger. But his eyes could penetrate but q
little way into the darkness, and no sounds
came to his ears, but the deep sough of the
west wind among the pine boughs on the noun
tain top, the hoarse ripple of the brook brawl;no
against the boulders which lay scattered in it.
bed, and the hooting of the brown owls, answer
ing each other from every ivy-bush and holly
brake on the wooded hill-sides.
Nothing could be more calm or peaceful
than the scene, nothing less indicative of man.
presence, much more of his violence and angry
passions. Not even the baying of a SOLITARY
house-dog awoke the echoes, though oftentime
the Wild yelping bark of the fox came sharl
from the moorland, and once the long-drawl
i howl of a wolf that most hideous and unms