CHAPTER IX.
This is the prince of leeches; fever, plague,
Cold rheum, and hot podagra, do but look on him,
And quit their grasp upon the tortured sinews. ANONYMOUS.
The Baron of Gilsland walked with slow step and an anxious
countenance towards the royal pavilion. He had much diffidence
of his own capacity, except in a field of battle, and conscious
of no very acute intellect, was usually contented to wonder at
circumstances which a man of livelier imagination would have
endeavoured to investigate and understand, or at least would have
made the subject of speculation. But it seemed very
extraordinary, even to him, that the attention of the bishop
should have been at once abstracted from all reflection on the
marvellous cure which they had witnessed, and upon the
probability it afforded of Richard being restored to health, by
what seemed a very trivial piece of information announcing the
motions of a beggardly Scottish knight, than whom Thomas of
Gilsland knew nothing within the circle of gentle blood more
unimportant or contemptible; and despite his usual habit of
passively beholding passing events, the baron's spirit toiled
with unwonted attempts to form conjectures on the cause.
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