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    was formed to express the more
    angry passions with force and vivacity, and that she who shared
    his rank and name must lay her account with the implicit surrender
    of her will and wishes to those of an arbitrary lord and master.

    But the cloud soon passed from the Constable's brow; and in the
    conversation which he afterwards maintained with Herbert and the
    other knights and gentlemen, who from time to time came to greet
    and accompany them for a little way on their journey, Eveline had
    occasion to admire his superiority, both of sense and expression,
    and to remark the attention and deference with which his words
    were listened to by men too high in rank, and too proud, readily
    to admit any pre-eminence that was not founded on acknowledged
    merit. The regard of women is generally much influenced by the
    estimation which an individual maintains in the opinion of men;
    and Eveline, when she concluded her journey in the Benedictine
    nunnery in Gloucester, could not think without respect upon the
    renowned warrior, and celebrated politician, whose acknowledged
    abilities appeared to place him above every one whom she had seen
    approach him. His wife, Eveline thought, (and she was not without
    ambition,) if relinquishing some of those qualities in a husband
    which are in youth most captivating to the female imagination,
    must be still generally honoured and respected, and have
    contentment, if not romantic felicity, within her reach.




    CHAPTER THE SIXTEENTH


    The Lady Eveline remained nearly four months with her aunt, the
    Abbess of the Benedictine nunnery, under whose auspices the
    Constable of Chester saw his suit advance and prosper as it would
    probably have done under that of the deceased Raymond Berenger,
    her brother. It is probable, however, that, but for the supposed
    vision of the Virgin, and the vow of gratitude which that supposed
    vision had called forth, the natural dislike of so young a person
    to a match so unequal in years, might have effectually opposed his
    success. Indeed Eveline, while honouring the Constable's virtues,
    doing justice to his high character, and admiring his talents,
    could never altogether divest herself of a secret fear of him,
    which, while it prevented her from expressing any direct
    disapprobation of his addresses, caused her sometimes to shudder,
    she scarce knew why, at the idea of their becoming successful.

    The ominous words, "betraying and betrayed," would then occur to
    her memory; and when her aunt (the period of the deepest mourning
    being elapsed) had fixed a period for her betrothal, she looked
    forward to it with a feeling of terror, for which she was unable
    to account to herself, and which, as well as the particulars of
    her dream, she concealed even from Father Aldrovand in the hours
    of confession. It was not aversion to the Constable--it was far
    less preference to any other suitor--it was one of those
    instinctive movements and emotions by which Nature seems to warn
    us of approaching danger, though furnishing no information
    respecting its nature, and suggesting no means of escaping from
    it.

    So strong were these intervals of apprehension, that if they had
    been seconded by the remonstrances of Rose Flammock, as formerly,
    they might perhaps have led to Eveline's yet forming some
    resolution unfavourable to the suit of the Constable. But, still
    more zealous for her lady's honour than even for her happiness,
    Rose had strictly forborne every effort which could affect
    Eveline's purpose, when she had once expressed her approbation of
    De Lacy's addresses; and whatever she thought or anticipated
    concerning the proposed marriage, she seemed from that moment to
    consider it as an event which must necessarily take place.

    De Lacy himself, as he learned more intimately to know the merit
    of the prize which he was desirous of possessing, looked forward
    with different feelings towards the union, than those with which
    he had first proposed the measure to Raymond Berenger. It was then
    a mere match of interest and convenience, which had occurred to
    the mind of a proud and politic feudal lord, as the best mode of
    consolidating the power and perpetuating the line of his family.
    Nor did even the splendour of Eveline's beauty make that
    impression upon De Lacy, which it was calculated to do on the
    fiery and impassioned chivalry of the age. He was past that period
    of life when the wise are captivated by outward form, and might
    have said with truth, as well as with discretion, that he could
    have wished his beautiful bride several years older, and possessed
    of a more moderate portion of personal charms, in order to have
    rendered the match more fitted for his own age and disposition.
    This stoicism, however, vanished, when, on repeated interviews
    with his destined bride, he found that she was indeed
    inexperienced in life, but desirous to be guided by superior
    wisdom; and that, although gifted with high spirit, and a
    disposition which began to recover its natural elastic gaiety, she
    was gentle, docile, and, above all, endowed with a firmness of
    principle, which seemed to give assurance that she would tread
    uprightly, and without spot, the slippery paths in which youth,
    rank, and beauty, are doomed to move.

    As feelings of a warmer and more impassioned kind towards Eveline
    began to glow in De Lacy's bosom, his engagements as a crusader
    became more and more burdensome to him. The Benedictine Abbess,
    the natural guardian of Eveline's happiness, added to these
    feelings by her reasoning and remonstrances. Although a nun and a
    devotee, she held in reverence the holy state of matrimony, and
    comprehended so much of it as to be aware, that its important
    purposes could not be accomplished while the whole continent of
    Europe was interposed betwixt the married pair; for as to a hint
    from the Constable, that his young spouse might accompany him into
    the dangerous and dissolute precincts of the Crusader's camp, the
    good lady crossed herself with horror at the proposal, and never
    permitted it to be a second time mentioned in her presence.

    It was not, however, uncommon for kings, princes, and other
    persons of high consequence, who had taken upon them the vow to
    rescue Jerusalem, to obtain delays, and even a total remission of
    their engagement, by proper application to the Church of Rome. The
    Constable was sure to possess the full advantage of his
    sovereign's interest and countenance, in seeking permission to
    remain in England, for he was the noble to whose valour and policy
    Henry had chiefly intrusted the defence of the disorderly Welsh
    marches; and it was by no means with his good-will that so useful
    a subject had ever assumed the cross.

    It was settled, therefore, in private betwixt the Abbess and the
    Constable, that the latter should solicit at Rome, and with the
    Pope's Legate in England, a remission of his vow for at least two
    years; a favour which it was thought could scarce be refused to
    one of his wealth and influence, backed as it was with the most
    liberal offers of assistance towards the redemption of the Holy
    Land. His offers were indeed munificent; for he proposed, if his
    own personal attendance were dispensed with, to send an hundred
    lances at his own cost, each lance accompanied by two squires,
    three archers, and a varlet or horse-boy; being double the retinue
    by which his own person was to have been accompanied. He offered
    besides to deposit the sum of two thousand bezants to the general
    expenses of the expedition, to surrender to the use of the
    Christian armament those equipped vessels which he had provided,
    and which even now awaited the embarkation of himself and his
    followers.

    Yet, while making these magnificent proffers, the Constable could
    not help feeling they would be inadequate to the expectations of
    the rigid prelate Baldwin, who, as he had himself preached the
    crusade, and brought the Constable and many others into that holy
    engagement, must needs see with displeasure the work of his
    eloquence endangered, by the retreat of so important an associate
    from his favourite enterprise. To soften, therefore, his
    disappointment as much as possible, the Constable offered to the
    Archbishop, that, in the event of his obtaining license to remain
    in Britain, his forces should be led by his nephew, Danxian Lacy,
    already renowned for his early feats of chivalry, the present hope
    of his house, and, failing heirs of his own body, its future head
    and support.

    The Constable took the most prudent method of communicating this
    proposal to the Archbishop Baldwin, through a mutual friend, on
    whose good offices he could depend, and whose interest with the
    Prelate was regarded as great. But notwithstanding the splendour
    of the proposal, the Prelate heard it with sullen and obstinate
    silence, and referred for answer to a personal conference with the
    Constable at an appointed day, when concerns of the church would
    call the Archbishop to the city of Gloucester. The report of the
    mediator was such as induced the Constable to expect a severe
    struggle with the proud and powerful churchman; but, himself proud
    and powerful, and backed by the favour of his sovereign, he did
    not expect to be foiled in the contest.

    The necessity that this point should be previously adjusted, as
    well as the recent loss of Eveline's father, gave an air of
    privacy to De Lacy's courtship, and prevented its being signalized
    by tournaments and feats of military skill, in which he would have
    been otherwise desirous to display his address in the eyes of his
    mistress. The rules of the convent prevented his giving
    entertainments of dancing, music, or other more pacific revels;
    and although the Constable displayed his affection by the most
    splendid gifts to his future bride and her attendants, the whole
    affair, in the opinion of the experienced Dame Gillian, proceeded
    more with the solemnity of a funeral, than the light pace of an
    approaching bridal.

    The bride herself felt something of this, and thought occasionally
    it might have been lightened by the visits of young Damian, in
    whose age, so nearly corresponding to her own, she might have
    expected some relief from the formal courtship of his graver
    uncle. But he came not; and from what the Constable said
    concerning him, she was led to imagine that the relations had, for
    a time at least, exchanged occupations and character. The elder De
    Lacy continued, indeed, in nominal observance of his vow, to dwell
    in a pavilion by the gates of Gloucester; but he seldom donned his
    armour, substituted costly damask and silk for his war-worn
    shamois doublet, and affected at his advanced time of life more
    gaiety of attire than his contemporaries remembered as
    distinguishing his early youth. His nephew, on the contrary,
    resided almost constantly on the marches of Wales, occupied in
    settling by prudence, or subduing by main force, the various
    disturbances by which these provinces were continually agitated;
    and Eveline learned with surprise, that it was with difficulty his
    uncle had prevailed on him to be present at the ceremony of their
    being betrothed to each other, or, as the Normans entitled the
    ceremony, their _fiancailles_. This engagement, which
    preceded the actual marriage for a space more or less, according
    to circumstances, was usually celebrated with a solemnity
    corresponding to the rank of the contracting parties.

    The Constable added, with expressions of regret, that Damian gave
    himself too little rest, considering his early youth, slept too
    little, and indulged in too restless a disposition--that his
    health was suffering--and that a learned Jewish leech, whose
    opinion had been taken, had given his advice that the warmth of a
    more genial climate was necessary to restore his constitution to
    its general and natural vigour.

    Eveline heard this with much regret, for she remembered Damian as
    the angel of good tidings, who first brought her news of
    deliverance from the forces of the Welsh; and the occasions on
    which they had met, though mournful, brought a sort of pleasure in
    recollection, so gentle had been the youth's deportment, and so
    consoling his expressions of sympathy. She wished she could see
    him, that she might herself judge of the nature of his illness;
    for, like other damsels of that age, she was not entirely ignorant
    of the art of healing, and had been taught by Father Aldrovand,
    himself no mean physician, how to extract healing essences from
    plants and herbs gathered under planetary hours. She thought it
    possible that her talents in this art, slight as they were, might
    perhaps be of service to one already her friend and liberator, and
    soon about to become her very near relation.

    It was therefore with a sensation of pleasure mingled with some
    confusion, (at the idea, doubtless, of assuming the part of
    medical adviser to so young a patient,) that one evening, while
    the convent was assembled about some business of their chapter,
    she heard Gillian announce that the kinsman of the Lord Constable
    desired to speak with her. She snatched up the veil, which she
    wore in compliance with the customs of the house, and hastily
    descended to the parlour, commanding the attendance of Gillian,
    who, nevertheless, did not think proper to obey the signal.

    When she entered the apartment, a man whom she had never seen
    before advanced, kneeling on one knee, and taking up the hem of
    her veil, saluted it with an air of the most profound respect. She
    stepped back, surprised and alarmed, although there was nothing in
    the appearance of the stranger to justify her apprehension. He
    seemed to be about thirty years of age, tall of stature, and
    bearing a noble though wasted form, and a countenance on which
    disease, or perhaps youthful indulgence, had anticipated the
    traces of age. His demeanour seemed courteous and respectful, even
    in a degree which approached to excess. He observed Eveline's
    surprise, and said, in a tone of pride, mingled with emotion, "I
    fear that I have been mistaken, and that my visit is regarded as
    an unwelcome intrusion."

    "Arise, sir," answered Eveline, "and let me know your name and
    business I was summoned to a kinsman of the Constable of Chester."

    "And you expected the stripling Damian," answered the stranger.
    "But the match with which England rings will connect you with
    others of the house besides that young person; and amongst these,
    with the luckless Randal de Lacy. Perhaps," continued he, "the
    fair Eveline Berenger may not even have heard his name breathed by
    his more fortunate kinsman--more fortunate in every respect, but
    _most_ fortunate in his present prospects."

    This compliment was accompanied by a deep reverence, and Eveline
    stood much embarrassed how to reply to his civilities; for
    although she now remembered to have heard this Randal slightly
    mentioned

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