As Wamba opened the dear knight's corselet, he found a locket round
his neck, in which there was some hair; not flaxen like that of my
Lady Rowena, who was almost as fair as an Albino, but as black, Wamba
thought, as the locks of the Jewish maiden whom the knight had rescued
in the lists of Templestowe. A bit of Rowena's hair was in Sir Wilfrid's
possession, too; but that was in his purse along with his seal of arms,
and a couple of groats: for the good knight never kept any money, so
generous was he of his largesses when money came in.
Wamba took the purse, and seal, and groats, but he left the locket of
hair round his master's neck, and when he returned to England never said
a word about the circumstance. After all, how should he know whose hair
it was? It might have been the knight's grandmother's hair for aught the
fool knew; so he kept his counsel when he brought back the sad news and
tokens to the disconsolate widow at Rotherwood.
The poor fellow would never have left the body at all, and indeed sat
by it all night, and until the gray of the morning; when, seeing two
suspicious-looking characters advancing towards him, he fled in dismay,
supposing that they were marauders who were out searching for booty
among the dead bodies; and having not the least courage, he fled from
these, and tumbled down the breach, and never stopped running as fast as
his legs would carry him, until he reached the tent of his late beloved
master.
Pages:
447
448
449
450
451
452
453
454
455
456
457
458
459
460
461
462
463
464
465
466
467
468
469
470
471