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Updated: June 17, 2025
At my touch the color faded from her face, leaving it white as a flower. "I fear you maid spiritual, maid militant Maid-at-Arms!" I stammered. "And I fear you," she murmured, looking at me. "What lover does the whole world hold like you? What hero can compare with you? And who am I that I should take you away from the whole world? Sweetheart, I am afraid."
"What Ormond is this?" I muttered, bewitched, yet sullen to see such feminine roundness in any youth; and, with my sleeve of buckskin, I rubbed the dust from the gilded plate set in the lower frame. "The Maid-at-Arms," I read aloud.
Ah! now my throat was aching with the memory of the song, and of that strange line I never understood "Wearing the ghost-ring!" and, of themselves, the words grew and died, formed on my silent lips: "This for the deed she did at Ashby Farms, Helen of Ormond, Royal Maid-at-Arms!
"Though for all time the lords of Ormond be Butlers to Majesty, Yet shall new honors fall upon her Who, armored, rode for love to Ashby Farms; Let this her title be: A Maid-at-Arms! "Serene mid love's alarms, For all time shall the Maids-at-Arms, Wearing the ghost-ring, triumph with their constancy. And sweetly conquer with a sigh And vanquish with a tear Captains a trembling world might fear.
Yet I seemed to see white, sun-drenched sands and the long, blue swell of a summer sea, and I heard winds in the palms, and a song truly it was my mother's; I knew it now and, of a sudden, the words came borne on a whisper of ancient melody: "This for the deed she did at Ashby Farms, Helen of Ormond, Royal Maid-at-Arms!"
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