The Forest Republican. [volume] (Tionesta, Pa.) 1869-1952, 1888-08-01

taunts oil the soldiery. Once, at the
first tone of Edwy's voice, a quiver
passed over his blood stained cheek, but
he raised not his eyes from the floor.
Grim, stern, silent, he waited, and if he
strained his iron muscles against the
cords till he felt them slip and yield, no
one needed. The youth with his harp
was more diverting than the impassive
prisoner, whom their savage gibes moved
not.
"a song! song After the battle
cry, the madrigal." "
Edwy's fingers had been straying over
the strings of the harp, waking those
low soft murmurs that musicians love.
Now, with free hand, he struck the
ringing chords, and no one save Oswald
heard aught but careless melody in the
young voice that filled the hall.
As Edwy finished the song, he lifted
his eyes and 1uarely encountered an in
tent gaze, which he seemed to have felt
before he turned. lie saw mere boy,
whose fir, floating ha,r and gravely
sweet face made him seem as apart from
these dark visaged men of blood as a
saint stepped down from the stained
windows of some cathedral.
Once before that boyish face with its
halo OF golden hair had held Edwy's eye,
and with a lightning flash of memory
that earlier meeting was recalled 1t
was lonely spot on the mountain side,
and the fearless boy, with failing
strength, was holding at bay an antlered
stag. Had Edwy's trusty spear swerved
then or fingered, no morrow had ever
smiled on the brave hunter. Now in
the deep look, more potent than speech,
that held their eyes locked for moment
ere they swerved aside, Edwy read that
he was known
His fingers trembled as he struck slow
! fragments of music from the obedient
strings, and there was ringing in his
ears that sounded like the battle-cry of
the Branksomes. Then the blood surged
back to his heart and he lifted his daunt-
less Tynedale face to his foes. Trapped
and at their mercy he knew himself, but
at least he could show them how the
/ Tynedales were wont to die. The liqu d
drops Of music shivered into sharp si-
lence as his hand forsook the strings TO
rest Lightly on the short sword at his belt,
while his naughty glance swept the hall.
But there was no answer to his silent
challenge, and now in the averted face of
the boy he read not the triumph of an
enemy, but the grieved perplexity of a
child
Edwy understood. That the boy re-
membered his benefactor's face was
proved past doubt in that first long gaze,
and now his troubled silence revealed
that he remembered the bene.
faction also. But silence was hard
for Edwy's beating heart to bear, and
striking the chords sharply, he gave to
that throbbed in his brain. The carouse
about the board was somewhat hushed,
but Edwy sang only for the boy, whose
dropping eyes could not bear the stead
fast gaze he bent upon them.
"Lone is the mountain path,
Dark is the glen,
Fierce is the antlered stag,
Halter of men.
Hapless the hunter now,
Lacking his spear,
Woe to the hunter lad,
Death draweth near.
Long may the maiden wait,
Sitting her means;
In the loan mount lin glen
Whiten his bones.n
The boy shuddered and met Edwy's
look pleadingly. One word from those
bcardlcss lips and the minstrel had sung
his last strain, but tie word was not
spoken. Edwy read the conflicting
emotions that held him passive, and
with that sense OF power that is the wine
of strong souls, he knew his own dom
inatiun over the heart he had preserved.
In one fierce moment he grasped the
full strength Of life. The little baud
waiting his signal without. the walls
that even now echoed to the laughter of
The foes of his house, all rested ON his
power to hold and control the will of the
child who now raised questioning
eyes to his, as asking counsel.
The battle courage flushed his dark
check as he once more touched his harp
lie must sing, as he had fought, for his
life and the honor of Tynedale.
Fa.thless are lovers, but lovers are manyl
Maldens are cruel, but hearts heal amain
hankless are beggars, who take the drink
penny,
Few hold remembrance while one moon
may wane.
Chiefest in infamy whom may we calll
b. migrate of ingrates and king of them all
Who but the traitor to friend and to honor
Who but the bastard that, drunken Will
strife.
Strikes at the bosom that succored and saved
HIM,
Offers him death who hath rendered him
life!
Dead in dishonor or living in shame,
Bards shall remember the dastardly
name.n
. Edwy ceased. Had he lost or won in
the game where the stake was lifel The
boys's grave eyes glowed with a clear
light, and as the impetuous strain sank
to silence, he drew the harp from Edwy's
arm.
"Methinks your songs ring not true,
fair harper. There be blacker traitor,
than he VINO Stays even a friend"
And with a mournful yet steadfast
look he gave in song his answer tc
Edwy's challenge;
"Youthful knight, charge thee well
Guard the banner that thou Dearest;
Though it leads TO blackeSt he'll,
Though DER naked swords thou farest
Though thy life, thy friend, thy soul,
Doomed be to endless dole.n
Edwy had lost. AS the verse ended
with a tremble, the two stood silently
side by side, watching the quivering
strings. The last faint vibration died
away, and with eyes that seemed not to
see, the boy stepped forward and raised
his hand lmperiously for silence But
/ Edwy was before him