Chapter 27 - Page 2

apartment," he said, "with its furniture, are all strange to me."

"My dear master," said Amelot, "you are at present too weak to ask
questions and receive explanations."

"Be I where I will," said Damian, as if recovering his
recollection, "I am not in the place where my duty calls me. Tell
my trumpets to sound to horse--to horse, and let Ralph Genvil
carry my banner. To horse--to horse! we have not a moment to
lose!"

The wounded knight made some effort to rise, which, in his state
of weakness, Amelot was easily able to frustrate. "Thou art
right," he said, as he sunk back into his reclining posture--"thou
art right--I am weak--but why should strength remain when honour
is lost?" The unhappy young man covered his face with his hands,
and groaned in agony, which seemed more that of the mind than of
the body. Lady Eveline approached his bedside with unassured
steps, fearing she knew not what, yet earnest to testify the
interest she felt in the distresses of the sufferer. Damian looked
up and beheld her, and again hid his face with his hands.

"What means this strange passion, Sir Knight?" said Eveline, with
a voice which, at first weak and trembling, gradually obtained
steadiness and composure. "Ought it to grieve you so much, sworn
as you are to the duties of chivalry, that Heaven hath twice made
you its instrument to save the unfortunate Eveline Berenger?"

"Oh no, no!" he exclaimed with rapidity; "since you are saved, all
is well--but time presses--it is necessary I should presently
depart--no-where ought I now to tarry--least of all, within this
castle--Once more, Amelot, let them get to horse!"

"Nay, my good lord." said the damsel, "this must not be. As your
ward, I cannot let my guardian part thus suddenly--as a physician,
I cannot allow my patient to destroy himself--It is impossible
that you can brook the saddle."

"A litter--a bier--a cart, to drag forth the dishonoured knight
and traitor--all were too good for me--a coffin were best of all!
--But see, Amelot, that it be framed like that of the meanest
churl--no spurs displayed on the pall--no shield with the ancient
coat of the De Lacys--no helmet with their knightly crest must
deck the hearse of him whose name is dishonoured!"

"Is his brain unsettled?" said Eveline, looking with terror from
the wounded man to his attendant; "or is there some dreadful
mystery in these broken words?--If so, speak it forth; and if it
may be amended by life or goods, my deliverer will sustain no
wrong."

Amelot regarded her with a dejected and melancholy air,