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"And there is nothing master is so particular about as keeping that stuff dry. See the woman, too! How I'd like to tug the hair off her head! She looks badly, poor creature, too." Stephen's wife had, indeed, come up to enjoy the sport, when she found that no man was on the premises, and that there was no danger.
This made Stephen's son, Eustace, very angry, and he went away in a rage to raise troops to maintain his cause; but he died suddenly in the midst of his wild doings, and the king, his father, did not live long after him, but died in 1154. Maude had learnt wisdom by her misfortunes.
Villages and towns rose around the castles of great Norman nobles and the cathedrals and abbeys of Norman ecclesiastics. Ultimately these towns obtained freedom. London became a great city with more than a hundred churches. The castles, built during the disastrous civil wars of Stephen's usurped reign, were demolished. Peace and order were restored by a legitimate central power.
My first care on arriving in this town was to find a countrywoman of mine who had been married to a lawyer here. It is said of the Viennese that they cannot live away from their Stephen's steeple; but here was a proof of the contrary, for there are few couples living so happily as these friends, and yet they were nearly one thousand miles from St. Stephen's steeple.
Our road thither from the camp led us around the city, past the Damascus Gate, and the royal grottoes, and Herod's Gate, and the Tower of the Storks, and St. Stephen's Gate, down into the Valley of the Brook Kidron. Here, on the west, rises the precipitous Temple Hill crowned with the wall of the city, and on the east the long ridge of Olivet.
I beg your pardon, sir I'm so shabby! You couldn't be seen with the likes of me." It touched Stephen's chivalry and something deeper than chivalry. He had had no intention of walking with her. "There's no chapel in the afternoon," he said; "but I'll come and fetch you in the evening."
She had no idea what this gathering was for or who the speaker was. Mrs. Jarvis attended the regular Sunday morning services in St. Stephen's, whenever a headache did not prevent, and Elizabeth accompanied her. But beyond this the girl had not the slightest connection with any of the activities of this religious body of which she was a member.
The smile on his careworn face reminded Charlotte of the smile on St. Stephen's face, when he was dying. It was unearthly, angelic; but it was also very fleeting. Presently he added in a grave tone, "You have evidently the great gift of attracting the heart of a little child. Pardon me if I add a hope that you may never lose it." "Is that possible?" asked Charlotte.
The better to consider this weighty problem, I strolled down to the Embankment, and, leaning on the parapet, contemplated the view across the river; the gray stone bridge with its perspective of arches, the picturesque pile of the shot-towers, and beyond, the shadowy shapes of the Abbey and St. Stephen's.
Stephen's cloister. He did not notice them, but the younger one pushed the kerchief back from her head, hastily grasped her companion's wrist, and exclaimed in a low tone: "That was Peter!" Barbara raised her head higher. "It's lucky I'm not timid. Let go of my arm. Do you mean the horseman trotting past St. Ursula alley?" "Yes, it is Peter." "Nonsense, child!
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