230 THE LEGEND OF HOSE ROCHE. 



to which his rivals had affixed their signatures already. 

 The " Big Man" listened attentively as the monk read it. 

 "'Tis all fair/' he said, as he placed his sign manual to the 

 deed, " that lady should choose her lord ; and thus I bind 

 myself, faithfully to abide the intents of this parchment." 

 Then turning to Rose Roche, he thus proceeded : " It 

 grieves me, that through accident I have unwittingly 

 occasioned some delay ; therefore, in pity to my gallant 

 competitors, I beg you, lady, to terminate their suspense, and 

 declare to this noble company the happy object of your 

 choice. Nay, blanch not so, fair dame," for the lady 

 became pallid as the white marble of a warrior's tomb : 

 " exercise your own pleasure leisurely ; and while I pledge 

 thy matchless beauty in a cup of muscadine, Aylmer, my 

 wd, shall sing a Saxon roundelay." As he spoke, O'Con- 

 nor signed to the minstrel, who, rising at his lord's bidding, 

 struck with a rapid hand the prelude of a light romance, 

 which, with a tremulous, but powerful voice, he thus gave 

 words to : 



" Lady, farewell ! the fatal hour 

 Has sped, for thus thy tyrant wills, 

 When he, who loves thee, leaves this tower, 

 Deserts gay hall and wood and bower 

 Of her, for whom his heart's pulse thrills ; 

 And thou art she Ladye sweet Ladye." 



When the minstrel touched the prelude, Rose Roche 

 became visibly affected ; but when the words fell from his 

 lips, a burning blush dyed her cheeks and brow, and her 

 heart throbbed almost to bursting. Alas, it was the very 

 roundelay the poor page had sung beneath her casement on 

 that melancholy night when her defunct lord had expelled 

 him from the castle ! She turned hastily round to see who 

 the strange youth might be who thus recalled her absent 

 love in look and voice so forcibly. Blessed Ursula ! it was 

 he, the long lost page! The minstrel, as he caught her 

 eyes, suddenly ceased his melody the lute fell from his 

 nerveless grasp, and, overcome by feelings that could not 

 be controlled, lie sank upon the bench behind him. It was, 

 indeed, young Aylmer. The well-remembered features 

 could never be forgotten although the boy had ripened into 

 manhood the thick down upon the lip had changed to a 



