'
Her mother spake not, for again
That turret bell hath tolled.
"Three days passed by. At eventide
There came an aged man,
He bent him low before the dame,
His wrinkled cheek was wan.
"'Now, speak, thou evil messenger,
Thy tidings show to me.'
That aged man, nor look vouchsafed,
Nor ever a word spake he.
"'What bringest thou?' the lady said,
'I charge thee by the rood.'
He drew a signet from his hand,
'Twas speckled o'er with blood.
"'Thy husband's grave is wide and deep.
In St Alban's priory
His body lies, but on his soul
Christ Jesus have mercy!'"[28]
Scarcely had the last solemn supplication been uttered, when the latch
of the chamber was raised. The door flew open, and the outlaw, in his
dark grey cap and cloak, stood before them. Constance was too much
alarmed to utter a word. She clung to her companion with the agony of
one grasping at the most fragile support for life and safety.
"Nay, maiden, I would not harm thee," said the intruder, in a voice so
musical and sad, that it seemed to drop into the listener's ear like a
gush of harmony, or a sweet and melancholy chime wakening up the heart's
most endeared and hallowed associations.
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