It has been told elsewhere how as the years passed Nigel's name
rose higher in honor; but still Mary's would keep pace with it,
each helping and sustaining the other upon an ever higher path.
In many lands did Nigel carve his fame, and ever as he returned
spent and weary from his work he drank fresh strength and fire and
craving for honor from her who glorified his home. At Twynham
Castle they dwelled for many years, beloved and honored by all.
Then in the fullness of time they came back to the Tilford Manor-
house and spent their happy, healthy age amid those heather downs
where Nigel had passed his first lusty youth, ere ever he turned
his face to the wars. Thither also came Aylward when he had left
the "Pied Merlin" where for many a year he sold ale to the men of
the forest.
But the years pass; the old wheel turns and ever the thread runs
out. The wise and the good, the noble and the brave, they come
from the darkness, and into the darkness they go, whence, whither
and why, who may say? Here is the slope of Hindhead. The fern
still glows russet in November, the heather still burns red in
July; but where now is the Manor of Cosford? Where is the old
house of Tilford? Where, but for a few scattered gray stones, is
the mighty pile of Waverley? And yet even gnawing Time has not
eaten all things away. Walk with me toward Guildford, reader,
upon the busy highway.
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