"Cousin Yolande," but no answer came. Ralph looked round. His cousin
was kneeling in the darkling room. The pale light of the young moon
fell upon her crown of golden hair, which curled and waved about her
face and over her shoulders. Her hands were clasped, and her eyes were
shut, and behind was the dark room, and above the pale calm moon.
Ralph spoke no more. He gazed upon her in wondering admiration. How
very beautiful she was. How very unearthly she looked. He knew his
boyish dream was over. He knew her heart was buried in the little
churchyard of St Aubin beside the unknown grave of the good knight, Sir
Edward Woodville, sometime Lord and Captain of the Isle of Wight.
As the moon rose higher, its light fell on a polished shield behind
Yolande's face, and the startling brilliancy of her ethereal head
against the shining metal, while all the rest of her figure was in
darkness, made her look like some saint with a glowing halo round her.
Presently she rose from her knees, kissed Ralph with a sisterly kiss,
and said in a calm, soft voice,--
"Cousin mine, I have vowed myself to God. Henceforth I belong not to
this world."
Ralph bowed his head over her long thin hand, and pressed it to his
lips. He could say nothing.
In another few minutes a step was heard outside, and old Sir William
Lisle entered the room, attended by Magdalen carrying a lighted sconce.
Yolande at once resumed her tranquil every-day manner, and placed her
father's chair beside Ralph. The old man sat down heavily, with a
little sigh.
"So, Ralph, thou art getting on right well, I hear. That's well. But
thou must not think of parting yet. The good folks up to Thruxton can
spare thee a while longer. There's Magdalen here will want thee to ride
over the country side, and 'tis thou must see to her, since she's seen
so well to thee. Turn and turn about, say I."
And so they talked of other things, but Ralph could only think of his
cousin, and wished he was lying in far St Aubin churchyard.
But what Sir William Lisle had said was very true. Magdalen Lisle had
seen very well to Ralph, and it was to her sharp wits and ready hands he
owed his life.
Hitherto they had been like brother and sister; but as Ralph grew
stronger, Magdalen's manner slightly changed. She became shyer, more
reserved.
Yolande had taken at once to the child, and they spent much of their
time at the little nunnery of Appuldurcombe, where sister Agnes was
allowed to see her daughter.
Ralph had been to Newport, and after seeing the relatives of nearly all
who had fallen, and gone over the events of the battle until he was
utterly wearied, he thought he would set off for Thruxton. While he was
thinking of this, sitting listlessly at the hall door, and idling with a
pretty goshawk, a figure rode up the rough road across the meadow in
front of the manor. Ralph looked up. Not many strangers passed this
way. The figure came nearer. Who could it be? It looked like a
well-known face--and could it be? Surely that was the voice of one he
ought to know?
"Well, Ralph, I'm parlous sorry to claim my bird, but I didn't think I
should want it again, and it was only given with an 'if,' you know."
Ralph sprang to his feet.
"What! Dicky!" he cried in amaze.
"Marry, yes, that's my name, if you are very familiar, otherwise I am
called Richard Cheke, Esquire, or Master Richard Cheke; but don't let us
be too formal."
"Why, Dicky, however did you come to life again?" cried Ralph, utterly
astounded. "You're not a ghost, are you?"--for Dicky did look very ill
and thin.
"Don't call a fellow names, Ralph Lisle; you did not use to do so. I
fear you have learnt bad manners since I have been away. It's well for
you I've come back. But there's no time to be lost. Let me have
something to eat, for I am parlous hungry."
And so Dicky Cheke really had returned. He gave an amusing account of
his escape. It appeared that during the night some of the ghouls, who
live by stripping the dead, took off his armour. The next morning he
recovered consciousness, and when they were searching the field to bury
the chief knights and lords, Dicky, thanks to his bad French, pretended
to be a Breton. He was taken to a neighbouring cottage, and was
carefully nursed by a kind peasant, who, believing him to be a young
Breton of a noble family--for Dicky had quickness enough to pass himself
off as a kinsman of poor young De Rohan--took great care of him, and he
was eventually able to get to Rennes, which still held out for the Duke
of Brittany, and from there his return was an easy matter. He fell in
with Lord Broke, who rewarded the peasant, and sent Dicky over to the
island as soon as possible.
Great were the rejoicings over Dicky, and the natural self-complacency
of that young gentleman was considerably increased. He became a great
hero in Newport, and was a very popular character throughout the island.
It was said that he paid considerable attentions to Mistress Magdalen
Lisle, now not only the greatest heiress, but declared by those who
admired brunettes the loveliest girl in the island.
He still resented that young lady having called him a "tom-tit," but was
willing to forgive her if she would consent to share his nest. But
report said that Mistress Lisle was waiting for someone else.
Ralph went back to Thruxton, and lived for some years with his father
and mother, when the former died full of years and honour. Jasper came
into the property. Ralph, now Sir Ralph Lisle, had previously been
invited over to Briddlesford, and before old Sir William Lisle died, he
had the satisfaction to know that the Knight, for whom his daughter
waited, had arrived at last.
When Yolande heard of it--for Ralph rode over to Appuldurcombe to tell
her--she said,--
"Ah, I told you true! Do you mind my saying--'When you reach the years
of manhood, and are of an age to marry, the lady of your choice will be
one who is now a girl of just that little one's age?' That little one
was my niece, albeit I knew it not, and now you are of an age to marry,
and she is to be your wife. So you see I was a true prophet, and you
will marry the niece instead of the aunt. But why do I recall so much
of the world? Go, my sweet nephew, make her as true a husband as thou
hast been true knight. No more happy fate could he have wished thee
than that a brave and noble man should possess the fairest lands and the
fairest maid of all the fairest isle the blue seas of England gird."