Were these pleasant days over? L'Isle knew that Lord Strathern had
taken violent, perhaps lasting offence at his strictures; and he
himself was too indignant at the summary way in which his commander
had cut short his protest, and dismissed him and the subject, for him
to make any conciliatory advances. Knowing, too, Lady Mabel's devotion
to her father, and her tenacity where his character and dignity were
concerned, there was no saying how much she might resent L'Isle's
offence, when it came to her knowledge. He could hardly, just now at
least, frequent headquarters on his former footing.
He was so much engrossed by these unpleasant thoughts, that it was in
vain officious Tom several times rode up close upon him, making his
own horse curvet and caper, hoping to attract his master's attention,
and remind him that he was loitering on the road long after his dinner
hour. L'Isle went on at a foot-pace up the hill of Elvas, until, from
a neighboring hedge, a nightingale, for whose ditty the hours of
darkness were too short, began his plaintive song. Many a time had
L'Isle paused to listen to such minstrelsey; but now his ear, or
something else, was out of tune:
"Except I be with Silvia in the night,
There is no music in the nightingale.
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