Twas past three in the afternoon, and snow clouds were fast covering up the last grey gleam of the December day, as Godwin, wishing that his road was longer, walked to Steeple church across the meadow.At the door of it he met the two serving women coming out with brooms in their hands, and bearing between them a great basket filled with broken meats and foul rushes.Of them he asked if the Lady Rosamund were still in the church, to which they answered, curtseying:
"Yes, Sir Godwin; and she bade us desire of you that you would come to lead her to the Hall when she had finished making her prayers before the altar.""I wonder," mused Godwin,"whether I shall ever lead her from the altar to the Hall, or whether--I shall bide alone by the altar?"Still he thought it a good omen that she had bidden him thus, though some might have read it otherwise.
Godwin entered the church, walking softly on the rushes with which its nave was strewn, and by the light of the lamp that burnt there always, saw Rosamund kneeling before a little shrine, her gracious head bowed upon her hands, praying earnestly.Of what, he wondered--of what?
Still, she did not hear him; so, coming into the chancel, he stood behind her and waited patiently.At length, with a deep sigh, Rosamund rose from her knees and turned, and he noted by the light of the lamp that there were tear-stains upon her face.
Perhaps she, too, had spoken with the Prior John, who was her confessor also.Who knows? At the least, when her eyes fell upon Godwinstanding like a statue before her, she started, and there broke from her lips the words:
"Oh, how swift an answer!" Then, recovering her self, added, "To my message, I mean, cousin.""I met the women at the door," he said.
"It is kind of you to come," Rosamund went on; "but, in truth, since that day on Death Creek I fear to walk a bow-shot's length alone or in the company of women only.With you I feel safe.""Or with Wulf?"
"Yes; or with Wulf," she repeated; "that is, when he is not thinking of wars and adventures far away."By now they had reached the porch of the church, to find that the snow was falling fast.
"Let us bide here a minute," he said; "it is but a passing cloud."So they stayed there in the gloom, and for a while there was silence between them.Then he spoke.
"Rosamund, my cousin and lady, I come to put a question to you, but first--why you will understand afterwards--it is my duty to ask that you will give me no answer to that question until a full day has passed.""Surely, Godwin, that is easy to promise.But what is this wonderful question which may not be answered?""One short and simple.Will you give yourself to me in marriage, Rosamund?"She leaned back against the wall of the porch.
"My father--" she began.
"Rosamund, I have his leave."
"How can I answer since you yourself forbid me?""Till this time to-morrow only.Meanwhile, I pray you hear me, Rosamund.I am your cousin, and we were brought up together--indeed, except when I was away at the Scottish war, we have never been apart.Therefore, we know each other well, as well as any can who are not wedded.Therefore, too, you will know that I have always loved you, first as a brother loves his sister, and now as a man loves a woman."
"Other--where? What lady--?"
"Nay, no lady; but in your dreams."
"Dreams? Dreams of what?"
"I cannot say.Perchance of things that are not here--things higher than the person of a poor maid.""Cousin, in part you are right, for it is not only the maid whom I love, but her spirit also.Oh, in truth, you are to me a dream--a symbol of all that is noble, high and pure.In you and through you, Rosamund, I worship the heaven I hope to share with you.""A dream? A symbol? Heaven? Are not these glittering garments to hang about a woman's shape? Why, when the truth came out you would find her but a skull in a jewelled mask, and learn to loath her for a deceit that was not her own, but yours.Godwin, such trappings as your imagination pictures could only fit an angel s face.""They fit a face that will become an angel's.""An angel's? How know you? I am half an Eastern; the blood runs warm in me at times.I, too, have my thoughts and visions.Ithink that I love power and imagery and the delights of life--a different life from this.Are you sure, Godwin, that this poor face will be an angel's?""I wish I were as sure of other things.At least I'll risk it.""Think of your soul, Godwin.It might be tarnished.You would not risk that for me, would you?"He thought.Then answered:
"No; since your soul is a part of mine, and I would not risk yours, Rosamund.""I like you for that answer," she said."Yes; more than for all you have said before, because I know that it is true.Indeed, you are an honourable knight, and I am proud--very proud--that you should love me, though perhaps it would have been better otherwise." And ever so little she bent the knee to him.
"Whatever chances, in life or death those words will make me happy, Rosamund."Suddenly she caught his arm."Whatever chances? Ah! what is about to chance? Great things, I think, for you and Wulf and me.
Remember, I am half an Eastern, and we children of the East can feel the shadow of the future before it lays its hands upon us and becomes the present.I fear it, Godwin--I tell you that Ifear it."
