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"Ay; but those are the storms of the heart! I tell you that even the innocent may have that within to which the loudest tempests without are peace! But guilt, you say; what have we to do with guilt?" Crauford hesitated, and, avoiding any reply to this question, drew Glendower's arm within his own, and in a low half-whispered tone said,
"Well, master, if you are bent upon this enterprise, you will not find me backward; and indeed, I am so sick of this six months of idleness, and of seeing others marching to Wales to fight, while we do nothing here; that, by Saint Bride, were you to ask me to go into Glendower's stronghold, and pluck him by the beard, I would willingly go with you." Oswald laughed.
"You are wounded; but not, I trust, to death. We are prisoners in the hands of the Welsh, but that chain Glendower's daughter gave me has saved our lives." A rough litter was constructed of boughs. On this Roger, after his armour had been taken off, was laid. At their leader's orders six Welshmen took it up, while two placed themselves, one on each side of Oswald.
There I refreshed myself for an hour or two in an old-fashioned inn, and then resumed my journey. I passed through Corwen; again visited Glendower's monticle upon the Dee, and reached Llangollen shortly after sunset, where I found my beloved two well and glad to see me.
Encouraged by this air, even while he was secretly vexed by it, and perfectly unable to do justice to the dignity of mind which gave something of majesty rather than humiliation to misfortune, Crauford resolved to repeat his visit, and by intervals, gradually lessening, renewed it, till acquaintance seemed, though little tinctured, at least on Glendower's side, by friendship, to assume the semblance of intimacy.
But when Crauford, partly in mockery, partly in menace, placed his hand upon Glendower's shoulder, as if to stop him, the touch seemed to change his mood from scorn to fury; turning abruptly round, he seized the villain's throat with a giant's strength, and cried out, while his whole countenance worked beneath the tempestuous wrath within, "What if I squeeze out thy poisonous life from thee this moment!" and then once more bursting into a withering laughter, as he surveyed the terror which he had excited, he added, "No, no: thou art too vile!" and, dashing the hypocrite against the wall of a neighbouring house, he strode away.
Fierce bards of Wales, sworn foes of England, sang thy praises centuries ago; and even the fiercest of them all, Red Julius himself, wild Glendower's bard, had a word of praise for London's "Cheape," for so the bards of Wales styled thee in their flowing odes.
There is a certain species of pride which contradicts the ordinary symptoms of the feeling, and appears most elevated when it would be reasonable to expect it should be most depressed. Of this sort was Glendower's.
When we last heard, his foremost divisions were marching forward, and devastating the country on both sides of their line of march. We have heard reports that some of the parties have been attacked, and well-nigh destroyed; and certain it is that Glendower's men are scattered all over the country.
"I wonder whether Lord Grey had any idea that Glendower's daughters were in the house when we arrived there?" "I know not, but I remember now that they had men searching, for some time, for signs of secret passages. Whether it was from any idea that Glendower's daughters might be hidden away, I know not."
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