"Fear it not, Rosamund.Why should you fear? On God's knees lies the scroll of our lives, and of His purposes.The words we see and the words we guess may be terrible, but He who wrote it knows the end of the scroll, and that it is good.Do not fear, therefore, but read on with an untroubled heart, taking no thought for the morrow."She looked at him wonderingly, and asked,"Are these the words of a wooer or of a saint in wooer's weeds? Iknow not, and do you know yourself? But you say you love me and that you would wed me, and I believe it; also that the woman whom Godwin weds will be fortunate, since such men are rare.But I am forbid to answer till to-morrow.Well, then I will answer as I am given grace.So till then be what you were of old, and--the snow has ceased; guide me home, my cousin Godwin."So home they went through the darkness and the cold, moaning wind, speaking no word, and entered the wide hall, where a great fire built in its centre roared upwards towards an opening in the roof, whence the smoke escaped, looking very pleasant and cheerful after the winter night without.
There, standing in front of the fire, also pleasant and cheerful to behold, although his brow seemed somewhat puckered, was Wulf.
At the sight of him Godwin turned back through the great door, and having, as it were, stood for one moment in the light, vanished again into the darkness, closing the door behind him.
But Rosamund walked on towards the fire.
"You seem cold, cousin," said Wulf, studying her."Godwin has kept you too long to pray with him in church.Well, it is his custom, from which I myself have suffered.Be seated on this settle and warm yourself."She obeyed without a word, and opening her fur cloak, stretched out her hands towards the flame, which played upon her dark and lovely face.Wulf looked round him.
The hall was empty.Then he looked at Rosamund.
"I am glad to find this chance of speaking with you alone, Cousin, since I have a question to ask of you; but I must pray of you to give me no answer to it until four-and-twenty hours be passed.""Agreed," she said."I have given one such promise; let it serve for both; now for your question.""Ah!" replied Wulf cheerfully;"I am glad that Godwin went first, since it saves me words, at which he is better than I am.""I do not know that, Wulf; at least, you have more of them,"answered Rosamund, with a little smile.
"More perhaps, but of a different quality--that is what you mean.
Well, happily here mere words are not in question.""What, then, are in question, Wulf?"
"Hearts.Your heart and my heart--and, I suppose, Godwin's heart, if he has one--in that way.""Why should not Godwin have a heart?"
"Why? Well, you see just now it is my business to belittle Godwin.Therefore I declare--which you, who know more about it, can believe or not as it pleases you--that Godwin's heart is like that of the old saint in the reliquary at Stangate--a thing which may have beaten once, and will perhaps beat again in heaven, but now is somewhat dead--to this world."Rosamund smiled, and thought to herself that this dead heart had shown signs of life not long ago.But aloud she said:
"If you have no more to say to me of Godwin's heart, I will begone to read with my father, who waits for me.""Nay, I have much more to say of my own." Then suddenly Wulf became very earnest--so earnest that his great frame shook, and when he strove to speak he could but stammer.At length it all came forth in a flood of burning words.
"I love you, Rosamund! I love you--all of you, as I have ever loved you--though I did not know it till the other day--that of the fight, and ever shall love you--and I seek you for my wife.Iknow that I am only a rough soldier-man, full of faults, not holy and learned like Godwin.Yet I swear that I would be a true knight to you all my life, and, if the saints give me grace and strength, do great deeds in your honour and watch you well.Oh!
what more is their to say?"
"Nothing, Wulf," answered Rosamund, lifting her downcast eyes.
"You do not wish that I should answer you, so I will thank you--yes, from my heart, though, in truth, I am grieved that we can be no more brother and sister, as we have been this many a year--and be going.""Nay, Rosamund, not yet.Although you may not speak, surely you might give me some little sign, who am in torment, and thus must stay until this time to-morrow.For instance, you might let me kiss your hand--the pact said nothing about kissing.
"I know naught of this pact, Wulf," answered Rosamund sternly, although a smile crept about the corners of her mouth,"but I do know that I shall not suffer you to touch my hand.""Then I will kiss your robe," and seizing a corner of her cloak, he pressed it to his lips.
"You are strong--I am weak, Wulf, and cannot wrench my garment from you, but I tell you that this play advantages you nothing."He let the cloak fall.
"Your pardon.I should have remembered that Godwin would never have presumed so far.""Godwin," she said, tapping her foot upon the ground,"if he gave a promise, would keep it m the spirit as well as in the letter.""I suppose so.See what it is for an erring man to have a saint for a brother and a rival! Nay, be not angry with me, Rosamund, who cannot tread the path of saints.""That I believe, but at least, Wulf, there is no need to mock those who can.""I mock him not.I love him as well as--you do." And he watched her face.
It never changed, for in Rosamund's heart were hid the secret strength and silence of the East, which can throw a mask impenetrable over face and features.
"I am glad that you love him, Wulf.See to it that you never forget your love and duty.""I will; yes--even if you reject me for him.""Those are honest words, such as I looked to hear you speak," she replied in a gentle voice."And now, dear Wulf, farewell, for I am weary--""To-morrow--" he broke in.
