As he turned at the
end of the beat he was pacing and came slowly toward her, she could see that
in its gravity his face was as soldier-like as his clothes. Always she found
it so when she came upon him unawares; and always, when she spoke to him-- She
held her breath as his eyes rose to her, and let it go with a little sigh of
happiness as she saw gloom drop from him like a mask at the sight of her.
"Randalin!" he cried joyously, and made a step toward her, then stopped to
laugh in gay wonder. "Now no poet would call you 'a weaver of peace' as you
stand there, for you look rather like an elf of battle. What is it, my raven?"
Her lips smiled back at him, but a mist was over her eyes. "It is your King
that I am angry with, lord. He is not worthy that a man like you should serve
him."
Moving toward her again, he held himself a little straighter. "I serve not the
King, dear heart," he said gently, "but the State of England, in whose service
the highest is none too good to bend."
She yielded him her hands but not her point. "That does not change the fact
that it is his overbearingness which makes your path as though you trod on
nettles,--for certainly I know it is so, though you will not say it!"
Neither would he admit it now, but laughed lightly as he drew her to him. "Now
may he not give me thorns who gives me also the sweetest rose in his king-dom?
I tell you he is the kingliest king ever I had to deal with, and the chief I
would soonest trust England to.
Pages:
300
301
302
303
304
305
306
307
308
309
310
311
312
313
314
315
316
317
318
319
320
321
322
323
324