"I thank your grace's courtesy,
but this night I must away to the village or town hereabout, Ormschurch
I think it be, and there, in all likelihood, I may abide for some days."
The prior bit his lips, but sought not to oppose his intent, further
than by giving a hint that foul weather was abroad, and of the good
cheer and dry lodging the priory afforded. De Poininges, however, took
his way afoot, returning to the town, where his horse and two trusty
attendants awaited him at the tavern or hostel.
The evening was fair, and the sky clear, save a broad and mountainous
ridge of clouds piled up towards the north-east, from whence hung a
black and heavy curtain stretching behind the hills in that direction.
The sparkling of the sea was visible at intervals behind the low
sand-hills skirting the coast, giving out, in irregular flashes, the
rich and glowing radiance it received. A lucid brightness yet lingered
over the waves, which De Poininges stood for a moment to observe, as he
gained the brow of the hill near the church. To this edifice was then
appended a low spire, not exhibiting, as now, the strange anomaly of a
huge tower by its side, seated there apparently for no other purpose
than to excite wonder, and to afford the clerk an opportunity of
illustrating its origin by the following tradition:--
Long time ago, two maiden sisters of the name of Orme, the founders of
this church, disagreed as to the shape of this most important appendage.
Pages:
146
147
148
149
150
151
152
153
154
155
156
157
158
159
160
161
162
163
164
165
166
167
168
169
170