Fellowes or my Lord Rosmore or--Ah! how many more
are there who would not give half their years and most of their fortune
to stand in the shoes of this fool to-night."
"Peace, Martin."
"Do you hear her little fiddle?" and he laid his hand lovingly on the
polished wood for a moment.
"You must not laugh while I am away. Maybe we'll have a laugh together
when I return, for the moon is too bright to go out on to my roof and
get wisdom from the stars. Come, mistress."
And they went down the narrow, winding stair together.
CHAPTER VII
KING MONMOUTH
The day was dying slowly, the west still aglow after the sinking of the
sun. Thin wreaths of mist were rising from the wide, deep trenches, or
"rhines," as the country folk called them, which intersected and drained
this moorland, making cultivation possible where once had been a great
marshy pool with shifting islands here and there, and rush-covered
swamps.
Silence was over the land, broken now and again by the call of a bird,
and presently by the quick beating of hoofs. A solitary horseman came
rapidly along a road which skirted the edge of the moor. He was dusty
with a long journey, and his horse came to a standstill at the first
tightening of the rein.
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