Save for that, she would have been
long ago his wife, she with her marred face the mate of that nobly
fair countenance. How strange to remember. How she would have loved
him, frank and often kind as she remembered him, though rough and
impatient of restraint. What was that which his fingers had held
till sleep had unclasped them? An ivory chessrook! Such was a
favourite token of ladies to their true loves. What did it mean?
Might she pause to pray a prayer over him as once hers--that all
might be well with him, for she knew that in this unhappy war
important captives were not treated as Frenchmen would have been as
prisoners of war, but executed as traitors to their King.
She paused over him till a low sound and the bright eyes of one of
the dogs warned her that all might in another moment be awake, and
she fled up the stair to the solar, where her parents were both fast
asleep, and across to her own room, where she threw herself on her
bed, dressed as she was, but could not sleep for the multitude of
strange thoughts that crowded over her in the increasing daylight.
By and by there was a stir, some words passed in the outer room, and
then her mother came in.
"Wake, Grisly. Busk and bonne for thy wedding-morning instantly.
Copeland is to keep his troth to thee at once. The Earl of Warwick
hath granted his life to thy father on that condition only."
"Oh, mother, is he willing?" cried Grisell trembling.
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