Chapter 15 - Page 2

arrange this dishevelled hair. It was a
poor vengeance she sought, and all because of my country. I am
resolved she shall not see the slightest trace of the sufferings
she has inflicted."

As she spoke thus, her eyes flashed with indignation, which seemed
to dry up the tears that had before filled them. Rose saw the
change of her manner with a mixture of pleasure and concern, being
aware that her mistress's predominant failing was incident to her,
as a spoiled child, who, accustomed to be treated with kindness,
deference, and indulgence, by all around her, was apt to resent
warmly whatever resembled neglect or contradiction.

"God knows," said the faithful bower-maiden, "I would hold my hand
out to catch drops of molten lead, rather than endure your tears;
and yet, my sweet mistress, I would rather at present see you
grieved than angry. This ancient lady hath, it would seem, but
acted according to some old superstitious rite of her family,
which is in part yours. Her name is respectable, both from her
conduct and possessions; and hard pressed as you are by the
Normans, with whom your kinswoman, the Prioress, is sure to take
part. I was in hope you might have had some shelter and
countenance from the Lady of Baldringham."

"Never, Rose, never," answered Eveline; "you know not--you cannot
fuess what she has made me suffer--exposing me to witchcraft and
fiends. Thyself said it, and said it truly--the Saxons are still
half Pagans, void of Christianity, as of nurture and kindliness."

"Ay, but," replied Rose, "I spoke then to dissuade you from a
danger now that the danger is passed and over, I may judge of it
otherwise."

"Speak not for them, Rose," replied Eveline, angrily; "no innocent
victim was ever offered up at the altar of a fiend with more
indifference than my father's kinswoman delivered up me--me, an
orphan, bereaved of my natural and powerful support. I hate her
cruelty--I hate her house--I hate the thought of all that has
happened here--of all, Rose, except thy matchless faith and
fearless attachment. Go, bid our train saddle directly--I will be
gone instantly--I will not attire myself" she added, rejecting the
assistance she had at first required--"I will have no ceremony--
tarry for no leave-taking."

In the hurried and agitated manner of her mistress, Rose
recognized with anxiety another mood of the same irritable and
excited temperament, which had before discharged itself in tears
and fits. But perceiving, at the same time, that remonstrance was
in vain, she gave the necessary orders for collecting their
company, saddling, and preparing for departure; hoping, that as