But, for all their best endeavours, I could not feel
called to the perpetual calm of the Cloister. We are a line of
fighters and hunters, men to whom pride of race and love of hearth and
home, are primal instincts.
"Thus, after many further wanderings and much varying adventure, having
by a strange chance heard news of the death of my father, and that my
mother mourned. In solitude, the opening of this year found me landed
in England--I who, by most, had long been given up for dead; though
Martin Goodfellow, failing to find trace of me in Palestine, had gone
back to Cumberland, and staunchly maintained his belief that I lived, a
captive, and should some day make my escape, and return.
"I passed with all speed to our Castle on the moors, knowing a mother's
heart waited here, for mothers never cease to watch and hope. And,
sure enough, as I rode up, the great doors flew wide; the house waited
its master; the mother was on the threshold to greet her son. Aye! It
was good to be at home once more--even in the land where _my_ woman was
bearing children to another man.
"We spent a few happy days, I and my mother, together. Then--the joy
of hope fulfilled being sometimes a swifter harbinger to another world
than the heaviest load of sorrow--she passed, without pain or sickness,
smiling, in her sleep; she passed--leaving my home desolate indeed.
"Not having known of my betrothal to thee, because of the old feud
between our families, and my reluctance to cross her wish that I should
wed Alfrida, thy name was not spoken between us; but I learned from her
that my cousin 'Frida lay dying at her manor, nigh to Chester, of some
lingering disease contracted in eastern lands.
Pages:
55
56
57
58
59
60
61
62
63
64
65
66
67
68
69
70
71
72
73
74
75
76
77
78
79