held
in check since I became my poor lord's wife. That the creature should
have set his will against all others, and should resist me with such
strength and devilishness, rouses in me the passion of the days when I
cursed and raved and struck at those who angered me. 'Tis fury that
possesses me, and I could curse and shriek at him as I flog him, if
'twould be seemly. As it would not be so, I shut my teeth hard, and
shriek and curse within them, and none can hear."

Among those who made it their custom to miss no day when she went forth
on Devil that they might stand near and behold her, there was one man
ever present, and 'twas Sir John Oxon. He would stand as near as might
be and watch the battle, a stealthy fire in his eye, and a look as if the
outcome of the fray had deadly meaning to him. He would gnaw his lip
until at times the blood started; his face would by turns flush scarlet
and turn deadly pale; he would move suddenly and restlessly, and break
forth under breath into oaths of exclamation. One day a man close by him
saw him suddenly lay his hand upon his sword, and having so done, still
keep it there, though 'twas plain he quickly remembered where he was.

As for the horse's rider, my Lady Dunstanwolde, whose way it had been to
avoid this man and to thrust him from her path by whatsoever adroit means
she could use, on these occasions made no effort to evade him and his
glances; in sooth, he knew, though none other did so, that when she
fought with her horse she did it with a fierce joy in that he beheld her.
'Twas as though the battle was between themselves; and knowing this in
the depths of such soul as he possessed, there were times when the man
would have exulted to see the brute rise and fall upon her, crushing her
out of life, or dash her to the earth and set his hoof upon her dazzling
upturned face. Her scorn and deadly defiance of him, her beauty and
maddening charm, which seemed but to increase with every hour that flew
by, had roused his love to fury. Despite his youth, he was a villain, as
he had ever been; even in his first freshness there had been older
men--and hardened ones--who had wondered at the selfish mercilessness and
blackness of the heart that was but that of a boy. They had said among
themselves that at his years they had never known a creature who could be
so gaily a dastard, one who could plan with such light remorselessness,
and using all the gifts given him by Nature solely