"
Edward had left the room, and having obtained the saddlebags from
Phoebe had gone up to his chamber. The first thing that he laid hold
of was his father's sword; he took it down, and having wiped it
carefully, he kissed it, saying, "God grant that I may do credit to
it, and prove as worthy to wield it as was my brave father!" He had
uttered these words aloud; and again taking the sword, and laying it
down on the bed, turned round, and perceived that Patience had,
unknown to him, entered the room, and was standing close to him.
Edward was not conscious that he had spoken aloud, and therefore
merely said, "I was not aware of your presence, Patience. Your foot is
so light."
"Whose sword is that, Edward"?
"It is mine; I bought it at Lymington."
"But what makes you have such an affection for that sword?"
"Affection for it?"
"Yes; as I came into the room you kissed it as fervently as--"
"As a lover would his mistress, I presume you would say," replied
Edward.
"Nay, I meant not to use such vain words. I was about to say, as a
devout Catholic would a relic. I ask you again, Why so? A sword is but
a sword. You are about to leave this on a mission of my father's. You
are not a soldier, about to engage in strife and war; if you were, why
kiss your sword?"
"I will tell you.
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