sir nigel-第88章

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〃Did　you　say　that　you　must　go　on　your　way　to…morrow；　father？〃　he
asked　the　priest。

〃Indeed；　fair　son；　the　matter　presses。〃

〃But　you　may　bide　the　morning？〃

〃It　will　suffice　if　I　start　at　noon。〃

〃Much　may　be　done　in　a　morning。〃　　He　looked　at　Mary；　who　blushed
and　smiled。　　〃By　Saint　Paul！　　I　have　waited　long　enough。〃

〃Good；　good！〃　chuckled　the　old　knight；　with　wheezy　laughter。
〃Even　so　I　wooed　your　mother；　Mary。　　Wooers　were　brisk　in　the
olden　time。　　To…morrow　is　Tuesday；　and　Tuesday　is　ever　a　lucky
day。　　Alas！　that　the　good　Dame　Ermyntrude　is　no　longer　with　us　to
see　it　done！　　The　old　hound　must　run　us　down；　Nigel；　and　I　hear
its　bay　upon　my　own　heels；　but　my　heart　will　rejoice　that　before
the　end　I　may　call　you　son。　　Give　me　your　hand；　Mary；　and　yours；
Nigel。　　Now；　take　an　old　man's　blessing；　and　may　God　keep　and
guard　you　both；　and　give　you　your　desert；　for　I　believe　on　my　soul
that　in　all　this　broad　land　there　dwells　no　nobler　man　nor　any
woman　more　fitted　to　be　his　mate！〃

There　let　us　leave　them；　their　hearts　full　of　gentle　joy；　the
golden　future　of　hope　and　promise　stretching　out　before　their
youthful　eyes。　　Alas　for　those　green　spring　dreaming！　　How　often
do　they　fade　and　wither　until　they　fall　and　rot；　a　dreary　sight；
by　the　wayside　of　life！　　But　here；　by　God's　blessing；　it　was　not
so；　for　they　burgeoned　and　they　grew；　ever　fairer　and　more　noble；
until　the　whole　wide　world　might　marvel　at　the　beauty　of　it。

It　has　been　told　elsewhere　how　as　the　years　passed　Nigel's　name
rose　higher　in　honor；　but　still　Mary's　would　keep　pace　with　it；
each　helping　and　sustaining　the　other　upon　an　ever　higher　path。
In　many　lands　did　Nigel　carve　his　fame；　and　ever　as　he　returned
spent　and　weary　from　his　work　he　drank　fresh　strength　and　fire　and
craving　for　honor　from　her　who　glorified　his　home。　　At　Twynham
Castle　they　dwelled　for　many　years；　beloved　and　honored　by　all。
Then　in　the　fullness　of　time　they　came　back　to　the　Tilford　Manor…
house　and　spent　their　happy；　healthy　age　amid　those　heather　downs
where　Nigel　had　passed　his　first　lusty　youth；　ere　ever　he　turned
his　face　to　the　wars。　　Thither　also　came　Aylward　when　he　had　left
the　〃Pied　Merlin〃　where　for　many　a　year　he　sold　ale　to　the　men　of
the　forest。

But　the　years　pass；　the　old　wheel　turns　and　ever　the　thread　runs
out。　　The　wise　and　the　good；　the　noble　and　the　brave；　they　come
from　the　darkness；　and　into　the　darkness　they　go；　whence；　whither
and　why；　who　may　say？　　Here　is　the　slope　of　Hindhead。　　The　fern
still　glows　russet　in　November；　the　heather　still　burns　red　in
July；　but　where　now　is　the　Manor　of　Cosford？　　Where　is　the　old
house　of　Tilford？　　Where；　but　for　a　few　scattered　gray　stones；　is
the　mighty　pile　of　Waverley？　　And　yet　even　gnawing　Time　has　not
eaten　all　things　away。　　Walk　with　me　toward　Guildford；　reader；
upon　the　busy　highway。　　Here；　where　the　high　green　mound　rises
before　us；　mark　yonder　roofless　shrine　which　still　stands
foursquare　to　the　winds。　　It　is　St。　Catharine's；　where　Nigel　and
Mary　plighted　their　faith。　　Below　lies　the　winding　river；　and　over
yonder　you　still　see　the　dark　Chantry　woods　which　mount　up　to　the
bare　summit；　on　which；　roofed　and　whole；　stands　that　Chapel　of　the
Martyr　where　the　comrades　beat　off　the　archers　of　the　crooked　Lord
of　Shalford。　　Down　yonder　on　the　flanks　of　the　long　chalk　hills
one　traces　the　road　by　which　they　made　their　journey　to　the　wars。
And　now　turn　hither　to　the　north；　down　this　sunken　winding　path！
It　is　all　unchanged　since　Nigel's　day。　　Here　is　the　Church　of
Compton。　　Pass　under　the　aged　and　crumbling　arch。　　Before　the
steps　of　that　ancient　altar；　unrecorded　and　unbrassed；　lies　the
dust　of　Nigel　and　of　Mary。　　Near　them　is　that　of　Maude　their
daughter；　and　of　Alleyne　Edricson；　whose　spouse　she　was；　their
children　and　children's　children　are　lying　by　their　side。　　Here
too；　near　the　old　yew　in　the　churchyard；　is　the　little　mound　which
marks　where　Samkin　Aylward　went　back　to　that　good　soil　from　which
he　sprang。

So　lie　the　dead　leaves；　but　they　and　such　as　they　nourish　forever
that　great　old　trunk　of　England；　which　still　sheds　forth　another
crop　and　another；　each　as　strong　and　as　fair　as　the　last。　　The
body　may　lie　in　moldering　chancel；　or　in　crumbling　vault；　but　the
rumor　of　noble　lives；　the　record　of　valor　and　truth；　can　never
die；　but　lives　on　in　the　soul　of　the　people。　　Our　own　work　lies
ready　to　our　hands；　and　yet　our　strength　may　be　the　greater　and
our　faith　the　firmer　if　we　spare　an　hour　from　present　toils　to
look　back　upon　the　women　who　were　gentle　and　strong；　or　the　men
who　loved　honor　more　than　life；　on　this　green　stage　of　England
where　for　a　few　short　years　we　play　our　little　part。







End