At last the dream had fulfilled itself; at last the long probation was past. Raymond de Brocas and Joan Vavasour had been made man and wife by good Master Bernard de Brocas in his church at Guildford, and in the soft sunlight of an October afternoon were riding together in the direction of Basildene, from henceforth to be their home.
Raymond had not yet seen Basildene. He had hurried to Joan"s side the moment that he left the ship which bore him from the sh.o.r.es of France, and the marriage had been celebrated almost at once, there being no reason for farther delay, and Sir Hugh being eager to be at the Court to receive the triumphant young Prince when he should return to England with his kingly captive.
All the land was ringing with the news of the glorious victory, of which Raymond"s vessel was the first to bring tidings. He himself, as having been one of those who had taken part in the battle and having won his spurs on the field of Poitiers, was regarded with no small admiration and respect. But Raymond had thoughts of nothing but his beloved; and to find her waiting for him, her loving heart as true to him as his was to her, was happiness sweeter than any he had once dreamed could be his.
The time had flown by on golden wings. He scarce knew how to reckon its flight. He and Joan lived in a world of their own -- a world that reckons not time by our calendar, but has its own fashion of computation; and hours that once had crept by leaden footed, now flew past as if on wings. He and his love were together at last, soon to be united in a bond that only death could sunder. And neither of them held that it could be broken even by the stern cold hand of death. Such love as theirs was not for time alone; it would last on and on through the boundless cycles of eternity.
And now the holy vows had been spoken. At last the solemn ceremony was over and past. Raymond and Joan were man and wife, and were riding side by side through the whispering wood in the direction of Basildene.
Joan had not changed much since the day she and Raymond had plighted their troth beside the dying bed of John de Brocas. As a young girl she had looked older than her years; as a woman she looked scarce more.
Perhaps in those great dark eyes there was more of softness; weary waiting had not dimmed their brightness, but had imparted just a touch of wistfulness, which gave to them an added charm. The full, curved lips were calmly resolute as of old, yet touched with a new sweetness and the gracious beauty of a great happiness.
Raymond had changed more than she, having developed from the youth into the man; retaining in a wonderful way the peculiar charm of his boyhood"s beauty, the ethereal purity of expression and slim grace of figure, yet adding to these the dignity and purpose of a more advanced age, and all the stateliness and power of one who has struggled and suffered and battled in the world, and who has come forth from that struggle with a stainless shield, and a name unsullied by the smallest breath of slander.
Joan"s eyes dwelt upon her husband"s face with a proud, joyous light in them. Once she laid her hand upon his as they rode, and said, in low tones very full of feeling:
"Methinks I have found my Galahad at last. Methinks that thou hast found a treasure as precious as the Holy Grail itself. Methinks no treasure could be more precious than that which thou hast won."
He turned his eyes upon her tenderly.
"The treasure of thy love, my Joan?"
"I was not thinking of that," she answered; "we have loved each other so long. I was thinking of that other treasure -- the love which has enabled thee to triumph over evil, to forgive our enemies, to do good to those that have hated us, to fight the Christian"s battle as well as that of England"s King. I was thinking of that higher chivalry of which in old days we have talked so much. Perchance we should give it now another name. But thou hast been true and faithful in thy quest. Ah, how proud I am of the stainless name of my knight!"
His fingers closed fast over hers, but he made no reply in words.
Raymond"s nature was a silent one. Of his deepest feelings he spoke the least. He had told his story to Joan; he knew that she understood all it meant to him. It was happiness to feel that this was so without the need of words. That union of soul was sweeter to him than even the possession of the hand he held in his.
And so they rode on to Basildene.
But was this Basildene? Raymond pa.s.sed his hand across his eyes, and gazed and gazed again. Joan sat quietly in her saddle, watching him with smiling eyes.
Basildene! yes, truly Basildene. There was the quaint old house with its many gables and mullioned cas.e.m.e.nts and twisted chimneys, its warm red walls and timbered grounds around it; but where was the old look of misery, decay, neglect, and blight? Who could look at that picturesque old mansion, with its latticed cas.e.m.e.nts glistening in the sun, and think of aught but home-like comfort and peace? What had been done to it? what spell had been at work? This was the Basildene of his boyhood"s dreams -- the Basildene that his mother had described to them. It was not the Basildene of later years. How had the change come about?
"That has been our uncle"s work these last two years," answered Joan, who was watching the changes pa.s.sing over her husband"s face, and seemed to read the unspoken thought of his heart. "He and I together have planned it all, and the treasure has helped to carry all out. The hidden h.o.a.rd has brought a blessing at last, methinks, Raymond; for the chapel has likewise been restored, and holy ma.s.s and psalm now ascend daily from it. The wretched hovels around the gates, where miserable peasants herded like swine in their sties, have been cleared away, and places fit for human habitation have been erected in their stead. That fearful quagmire, in which so many wretched travellers have lost their lives, has been drained, and a causeway built across it. Basildene is becoming a blessing to all around it; and so long as thou art lord here, my Raymond, it will remain a blessing to all who come within shelter of its walls."
He looked at her with his dreamy smile. His mind was going back in review over all these long years since first the idea had formed itself in his brain that they two -- Gaston and himself -- would win back Basildene. How long those years seemed in retrospect, and yet how short!
How many changes they had seen! how many strange events in the checkered career of the twin brothers!
"I would that Gaston were with me now; I would that he might see it."
"And so he shall, come next summer," answered Joan. "Is it not a promise that he comes. .h.i.ther with his bride to see thy home and mine, Raymond, and that we pa.s.s one of England"s inclement winters in the softer air of sunny France? You are such travellers, you brethren, that the journey is but child"s play to you; and I too have known something of travel, and it hath no terrors for me. There shall be no sundering of the bond betwixt the twin brothers of Basildene. Years shall only bind that bond faster, for to their faithful love and devotion one to the other Basildene owes its present weal, and we our present happiness."
"The twin brothers of Basildene," repeated Raymond dreamily, gazing round him with smiling eyes, as he held Joan"s hand fast in his. "My mother, I wonder if thou canst see us now -- Gaston at Saut and Raymond here at Basildene? Methinks if thou canst thou wilt rejoice in our happiness. We have done what thou biddedst us. We have fought and we have overcome. Thine own loved home has been won back by thine own sons, and Raymond de Brocas is Lord of Basildene."
THE END.