Chapter 27

_Julia._----Gentle sir,

You are our captive--but we'll use you so,
That you shall think your prison joys may match
Whate'er your liberty hath known of pleasure.

_Roderick._
No, fairest, we have trifled here too long;
And, lingering to see your roses blossom,
I've let my laurels wither.

OLD PLAY.

Arrayed in garments of a mourning colour, and of a fashion more
matronly than perhaps altogether befitted her youth--plain to an
extremity, and devoid of all ornament, save her rosary--Eveline
now performed the duty of waiting upon her wounded deliverer; a
duty which the etiquette of the time not only permitted, but
peremptorily enjoined. She was attended by Rose and Dame Gillian.
Margery, whose element was a sick-chamber, had been already
despatched to that of the young knight, to attend to whatever his
condition might require.

Eveline entered the room with a light step, as if unwilling to
disturb the patient. She paused at the door, and cast her eyes
around her. It had been her father's chamber; nor had she entered
it since his violent death. Around the walls hung a part of his
armour and weapons, with hawking gloves, hunting-poles, and other
instruments of silvan sport. These relics brought as it were in
living form before her the stately presence of old Sir Raymond.
"Frown not, my father,"--her lips formed the words, though her
voice did not utter them--"Frown not--Eveline will never be
unworthy of thee."

Father Aldrovand, and Amelot, the page of Damian, were seated by
the bedside. They rose as Lady Eveline entered; and the first, who
meddled a little with the healing art, said to Eveline "that the
knight had slumbered for some time, and was now about to awake."

Amelot at the same time came forward, and in a hasty and low
voice, begged that the chamber might be kept quiet, and the
spectators requested to retire. "My lord," he said, "ever since
his illness at Gloucester, is apt to speak something wildly as he
awakes from sleep, and will be displeased with me should I permit
any one to be near him."

Eveline accordingly caused her women and the monk to retire into
the anteroom, while she herself remained standing by the door-
communication which connected the apartments, and heard Damian
mention her name as he turned himself painfully on his couch. "Is
she safe and unharmed?" was his first question, and it was asked
with an eagerness which intimated how far it preceded all other
considerations. When Amelot replied in the affirmative, he sighed,
as one whose bosom is relieved from some weighty load, and in a
less animated voice, asked of the page where they were. "This