Chapter 15

I see a hand you cannot see,
Which beckons me away;
I hear a voice you cannot hear,
Which says I must not stay.
MALLET.

When Eveline first opened her eyes, it seemed to be without any
recollection of what had passed on the night preceding. She looked
round the apartment, which was coarsely and scantily furnished, as
one destined for the use of domestics and menials, and said to
Rose, with a smile, "Our good kinswoman maintains the ancient
Saxon hospitality at a homely rate, so far as lodging is
concerned. I could have willingly parted with last night's profuse
supper, to have obtained a bed of a softer texture. Methinks my
limbs feel as if I had been under all the flails of a Franklin's
barn-yard."

"I am glad to see you so pleasant, madam," answered Rose,
discreetly avoiding any reference to the events of the night
before.

Dame Gillian was not so scrupulous. "Your ladyship last night lay
down on a better bed than this," she said, "unless I am much
mistaken; and Rose Flammock and yourself know best why you left
it."

If a look could have killed, Dame Gillian would have been in
deadly peril from that which Rose shot at her, by way of rebuke
for this ill-advised communication. It had instantly the effect
which was to be apprehended, for Lady Eveline seemed at first
surprised and confused; then, as recollections of the past
arranged themselves in her memory, she folded her hands, looked on
the ground, and wept bitterly, with much agitation.

Rose entreated her to be comforted, and offered to fetch the old
Saxon chaplain of the house to administer spiritual consolation,
if her grief rejected temporal comfort.

"No--call him not," said Eveline, raising her head and drying her
eyes--"I have had enough of Saxon kindness. What a fool was I to
expect, in that hard and unfeeling woman, any commiseration for my
youth--my late sufferings--my orphan condition! I will not permit
her a poor triumph over the Norman blood of Berenger, by letting
her see how much I have suffered under her inhuman infliction. But
first, Rose, answer me truly, was any inmate of Baldringham
witness to my distress last night?"

Rose assured her that she had been tended exclusively by her own
retinue, herself and Gillian, Blanche and Ternotte. She seemed to
receive satisfaction from this assurance. "Hear me, both of you,"
she said, "and observe my words, as you love and as you fear me.
Let no syllable be breathed from your lips of what has happened
this night. Carry the same charge to my maidens. Lend me thine
instant aid, Gillian, and thine, my dearest Rose, to change these
disordered garments, and