"
And Hereward boasted to himself, at Gospatrick's expense, of his own
superior wisdom, till his eye caught a line or two, which finished the
letter.
"O that you would change your mind, much as I honor you for it. O that you
would come in to the king, who loves and trusts you, having seen your
constancy and faith, proved by so many years of affliction. Great things
are open to you, and great joys;--I dare not tell you what: but I know
them, if you would come in. You, to waste yourself in the forest, an
outlaw and a savage! Opportunity once lost, never returns; time flies
fast, Hereward, my friend, and we shall all grow old,--I think at times
that I shall soon grow old. And the joys of life will be impossible, and
nothing left but vain regrets."
"Hey?" said Hereward, "a very clerkly letter. I did not think she was so
good a scholar. Almost as good a one as Torfrida."
That was all he said; and as for thinking, he had the _posse comitatus_ of
seven counties to think of. But what could those great fortunes and joys
be, which Alftruda did not dare to describe?
She growing old, too? Impossible, that was woman's vanity. It was but two
years since she was as fair as a saint in a window. "She shall not marry
Ascelin. I will cut his head off. She shall have her own choice for once,
poor child.
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