"
"It was a pity," said Nigel; "for it is clear that he was a good
knight and bore himself very bravely."
"Time was, when I was young, when commoners dared not have laid
their grimy hands upon such a man. Men of gentle blood and
coat-armor made war upon each other, and the others, spearmen or
archers, could scramble amongst themselves. But now all are of a
level, and only here and there one like yourself, fair son, who
reminds me of the men who are gone."
Nigel leaned forward and took her hands in his. "What I am you
have made me," said he.
"It is true, Nigel. I have indeed watched over you as the
gardener watches his most precious blossom, for in you alone are
all the hopes of our ancient house, and soon--very soon--you
will be alone."
"Nay, dear lady, say not that."
"I am very old, Nigel, and I feel the shadow closing in upon me.
My heart yearns to go, for all whom I have known and loved have
gone before me. And you--it will be a blessed day for you, since
I have held you back from that world into which your brave spirit
longs to plunge."
"Nay, nay, I have been happy here with you at Tilford."
"We are very poor, Nigel. I do not know where we may find the
money to fit you for the wars. Yet we have good friends. There
is Sir John Chandos, who has won such credit in the French wars
and who rides ever by the King's bridle-arm.
Pages:
44
45
46
47
48
49
50
51
52
53
54
55
56
57
58
59
60
61
62
63
64
65
66
67
68