It was seven o'clock of the next morning, and Sir John, having eatenhis breakfast, was girding on his sword--for Jeffrey had already goneto fetch the horses--when the door opened and his daughter entered thegreat hall, candle in hand, wrapped in a fur cloak, over which her longhair fell. Glancing at her, Sir John noted that her eyes were wide andfrightened.
"What is it now, girl?" he asked. "You'll take your death of cold amongthese draughts."
"Oh! father," she said, kissing him, "I came to bid you farewell,and--and--to pray you not to start."
"Not to start? And why?"
"Because, father, I have dreamed a bad dream. At first last night Icould not sleep, and when at length I did I dreamed that dream thrice,"and she paused.
"Go on, Cicely; I am not afraid of dreams, which are butfoolishness--coming from the stomach."
"Mayhap; yet, father, it was so plain and clear I can scarcely bear totell it to you. I stood in a dark place amidst black things that I knewto be trees. Then the red dawn broke upon the snow, and I saw a littlepool with brown rushes frozen in its ice. And there--there, at the edgeof the pool, by a pollard willow with one white limb, you lay, your baresword in your hand and an arrow in your neck, shot from behind, while inthe trunk of the willow were other arrows, and lying near you two slain.Then cloaked men came as though to carry them away, and I awoke. I say Idreamed it thrice."
"A jolly good morrow indeed," said Sir John, turning a shade paler. "Andnow, daughter, what do you make of this business?"
"I? Oh! I make that you should stop at home and send some one else to doyour business. Sir Christopher, for instance."
"Why, then I should baulk your dream, which is either true or false.If true, I have no choice, it must be fulfilled; if false, why should Iheed it? Cicely, I am a plain man and take no note of such fancies. YetI have enemies, and it may well chance that my day is done. If so, useyour mother wit, girl; beware of Maldon, look to yourself, and as foryour mother's jewels, hide them," and he turned to go.
She clasped him by the arm.
"In that sad case what should I do, father?" she asked eagerly.
He stopped and stared at her up and down.
"I see that you believe in your dream," he said, "and therefore,although it shall not stay a Foterell, I begin to believe in it too. Inthat case you have a lover whom I have forbid to you. Yet he is a manafter my own heart, who would deal well by you. If I die, my game isplayed. Set your own anew, sweet Cicely, and set it soon, ere that Abbotis at your heels. Rough as I may have been, remember me with kindness,and God's blessing and mine be on you. Hark! Jeffrey calls, and if theystand, the horses will take cold. There, fare you well. Fear not for me,I wear a chain shirt beneath my cloak. Get back to bed and warm you,"and he kissed her on the brow, thrust her from him and was gone.
Thus did Cicely and her father part--for ever.