As Randalin turned into the sunny highway, she
looked back with a brave smile and waved her cap at the faded figure under the
arch. But the nun, left in the moss-grown garden, wrapped in the peace of the
grave, saw her through a blur of tears.
"God guard you, my fledgeling," she whispered over and over. "My prayers be as
a wall around you. My love go with you as a warm hand in your loneliness. God
keep you in safety, my most beloved daughter!"
Chapter III
Where War-dogs Kennel
Openly I now speak
Because I both sexes know:
Unstable are men's minds toward women;
'T is when we speak most fair,
When we most falsely think:
That deceives even the cautious.
Ha'vama'l.
This morning there were few travellers upon the Street. South of the highway
the land was held by English farmers, who would naturally remain under cover
while a Danish host was in the neighborhood; while north of the great dividing
line lay Danish freeholds whose masters might be equally likely to see the
prudence of being in their watch-towers when the English allies were passing.
Barred across by the shadows of its mighty trees, the great road stretched
away mile after mile in cool emptiness. At rare intervals, a mounted messenger
clattered over the stones, his hand upon his weapon, his eyes rolling sharply
in a keen watch of the thicket on either side.
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