Chapter 18

Oh, were I seated high as my ambition,
I'd place this naked foot on necks of monarchs!
MYSTERIOUS MOTHER.

The most anxious and unhappy moment of Hugo de Lacy's life, was
unquestionably that in which, by espousing Eveline with all civil
and religious solemnity, he seemed to approach to what for some
time he had considered as the prime object of his wishes. He was
assured of the early possession of a beautiful and amiable wife,
endowed with such advantage of worldly goods, as gratified his
ambition as well as his affections--Yet, even in this fortunate
moment, the horizon darkened around him, in a manner which
presaged nought but storm and calamity. At his nephew's lodging he
learned that the pulse of the patient had risen, and his delirium
had augmented, and all around him spoke very doubtfully of his
chance of recovery, or surviving a crisis which seemed speedily
approaching. The Constable stole towards the door of the apartment
which his feelings permitted him not to enter, and listened to the
raving which the fever gave rise to. Nothing can be more
melancholy than to hear the mind at work concerning its ordinary
occupations, when the body is stretched in pain and danger upon
the couch of severe sickness; the contrast betwixt the ordinary
state of health, its joys or its labours, renders doubly affecting
the actual helplessness of the patient before whom these visions
are rising, and we feel a corresponding degree of compassion for
the sufferer whose thoughts are wandering so far from his real
condition.

The Constable felt this acutely, as he heard his nephew shout the
war-cry of the family repeatedly, appearing, by the words of
command and direction, which he uttered from time to time, to be
actively engaged in leading his men-at-arms against the Welsh. At
another time he uttered various terms of the _manege_, of
falconry, and of the chase--he mentioned his uncle's name
repeatedly on these occasions, as if the idea of his kinsman had
been connected alike with his martial encounters, and with his
sports by wood and river. Other sounds there were, which he
muttered so low as to be altogether undistinguishable.

With a heart even still more softened towards his kinsman's
sufferings from hearing the points on which his mind wandered, the
Constable twice applied his hand to the latch of the door, in
order to enter the bedroom, and twice forebore, his eyes running
faster with tears than he chose should be witnessed by the
attendants. At length, relinquishing his purpose, he hastily left
the house, mounted his horse, and followed only by four of his
personal attendants, rode towards the palace of the Bishop, where,
as he learned from public rumour, the Archprelate Baldwin had