Chapter 26 - Page 2

Eveline aloud, as if scorning the
affectation of secrecy; "lead to the castle, and that straight as
you can."

"Why not rather to his own camp, or to Malpas?" said Rose--
"dearest lady, believe, it will be for the best."

"Wherefore not--wherefore not?--wherefore not leave him on the
way-side at once, to the knife of the Welshman, and the teeth of
the wolf?-Once--twice--three times has he been my preserver. Where
I go, he shall go; nor will I be in safety myself a moment sooner
than I know that he is so."

Rose saw that she could make no impression on her mistress, and
her own reflection told her that the wounded man's life might be
endangered by a longer transportation than was absolutely
necessary. An expedient occurred to her, by which she imagined
this objection might be obviated; but it was necessary she should
consult her father. She struck her palfrey with her riding-rod,
and in a moment her diminutive, though beautiful figure, and her
spirited little jennet, were by the side of the gigantic Fleming
and his tall black horse, and riding, as it were, in their vast
shadow. "My dearest father," said Rose, "the lady intends that Sir
Damian be transported to the castle, where it is like he may be a
long sojourner;--what think you?-is that wholesome counsel?"

"Wholesome for the youth, surely, Roschen," answered the Fleming,
"because he will escape the better risk of a fever."

"True; but is it wise for my lady?" continued Rose.

"Wise enough, if she deal wisely. But wherefore shouldst thou
doubt her, Roschen?"

"I know not," said Rose, unwilling to breathe even to her father
the fears and doubts which she herself entertained; "but where
there are evil tongues, there may be evil rehearsing. Sir Damian
and my lady are both very young-Methinks it were better, dearest
father, would you offer the shelter of your roof to the wounded
knight, in the stead of his being carried to the castle."

"That I shall not, wench," answered the Fleming, hastily--"that I
shall not, if I may help. Norman shall not cross my quiet
threshold, nor Englishman neither, to mock my quiet thrift, and
consume my substance. Thou dost not know them, because thou art
ever with thy lady, and hast her good favour; but I know them
well; and the best I can get from them is Lazy Flanderkin, and
Greedy Flanderkin, and Flemish, sot---I thank the saints they
cannot say Coward Flanderkin, since Gwenwyn's Welsh uproar."

"I had ever thought, my father," answered Rose, "that your spirit
was too calm to regard these base calumnies. Bethink you we are
under