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I have seen it before, when I was a little maid, in the year of
the Prince's great battle. I remember then how they mustered in
the bailey, even as they do now, and my lady-mother holding me in
her arms at this very window that I might see the show."
"Please God, you will see them all back ere another year be out,"
said he.
She shook her head, looking round at him with flushed cheeks and
eyes that sparkled in the lamp-light. "Oh, but I hate myself for
being a woman!" she cried, with a stamp of her little foot.
"What can I do that is good? Here I must bide, and talk and sew
and spin, and spin and sew and talk. Ever the same dull round,
with nothing at the end of it. And now you are going too, who
could carry my thoughts out of these gray walls, and raise my
mind above tapestry and distaffs. What can I do? I am of no more
use or value than that broken bowstave."
"You are of such value to me," he cried, in a whirl of hot,
passionate words, "that all else has become nought. You are my
heart, my life, my one and only thought.


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