THE DAISY OF THE DALE. 113 
hall, he everywhere met with some object that recalled 
the remembrance of youthful days, when, sworn in the 
solemn bond of friendly brotherhood with her father, 
they bad in their younger years been the first to 
plunge into the foremost ranks of battle together. He 
reached her bower, or tiring-room, and saw .the velvet 
cushion, the open missal, and the ivory crucifix,—the 
coif adorned with Daisies, which, in her haste, she had 
thrown upon the floor, while over all was suspended 
the portrait of her mother. And as he sat down in 
the high-backed and heavy oaken chair, he rested 
with one hand on the hilt of his ponderous sword, and 
pressing to his brow the gauntleted palm of the other, 
exclaimed, “ Pretty sweeting ! I have done thee wrong 
thus to drive thee from thy bower, even at the very 
moment, perchance, when thou wert at thy devotions. 
Well, well ! after all he has but done as I myself 
would—I have won the empty casket, and he has car¬ 
ried off the prize ; and to win it, the brave young dog 
would no more liavft minded cracking my old crown 
with the scaling-ladder, lhan a red squirrel minds 
splitting open a ripe hazel-nut to get at the kernel 
within. By Saint Swithin ! how the mailed rascals 
tumbled into the moat! I could have laughed, if I had 
