"A man who governs his passions is master of the world. We must either
command them or be enslaved to them. It is better to be the hammer
than the anvil."
All very admirable, yet they were but words, words, words. Excellent
counsellings, wise reasonings, they were, but could they master one
wild throb of his veins leaping in her presence? Could they make the
vision of her one whit less radiant and compelling? Had he created
the world? Was it his fault or the fault of the Creator of all things
that this great longing for her held him in subjection, and that until
that was satisfied there was no peace for him in all the wide, wide
world? The wildest thoughts ran through his mind at times. It was not
too late, he would recant, and go back and enter the Church, and become
a great and powerful prelate. He could yet live in a palace and offer
her a fitting setting for her glorious beauty. If he closed his eyes he
never failed to see himself in magnificent robes seated at the centre
of the great table with her at his side. He could see the gleam of
jewels as they rose and fell on her white bosom; he could see the light
in her eyes as she turned toward him; he could feel the thrill from the
touch of her soft white hands.
Yes, it was best to go and strive with all his might to forget Rose
Westel, and return to the Bury with his honor unstained, return to keep
his troth with Matilda.
He had promised to return immediately after the Fair. This great Fair
of Stourbridge had for over a year been looked to as an important
meeting place before the final rendezvous at Blackheath. It lacked
now but a few days before its opening, for over a fortnight past it
had been officially proclaimed by officers going about the country
forbidding any merchant to sell or exhibit for sale any goods in any
place for a distance of seven leagues about, except inside the gates of
the Fair.
Inside these gates there would be gathered people from leagues away on
every side. It would be a precious opportunity, for in no wise else
might the people gather together in great numbers without exciting
suspicion. Here at the Fair, under the pretence of buying and trading,
the most important conferences could take place, final arrangements for
the great gathering be talked over, and the march on to the Maidstone
gaol with ten thousand of men as Ball had foretold could be planned.
Here minstrels could go about singing the songs that set the blood of
the rustics a-tingling, so that they might be heartened for the long
hard winter that yet lay before them.