"
"Thy heart soft? thou commodity of old iron and Cumberland
flint, that thou art!" exclaimed the King.--"It is we
Plantagenets who boast soft and feeling hearts. Edith," turning
to his cousin with an expression which called the blood into her
cheek, "give me thy hand, my fair cousin, and, Prince of
Scotland, thine."
"Forbear, my lord," said Edith, hanging back, and endeavouring to
hide her confusion under an attempt to rally her royal kinsman's
credulity. "Remember you not that my hand was to be the signal
of converting to the Christian faith the Saracen and Arab,
Saladin and all his turbaned host?"
"Ay, but the wind of prophecy hath chopped about, and sits now in
another corner," replied Richard.
"Mock not, lest your bonds be made strong," said the hermit
stepping forward. "The heavenly host write nothing but truth in
their brilliant records. It is man's eyes which are too weak to
read their characters aright. Know, that when Saladin and
Kenneth of Scotland slept in my grotto, I read in the stars that
there rested under my roof a prince, the natural foe of Richard,
with whom the fate of Edith Plantagenet was to be united.
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