“About fifteen years, to the best of my remembrance.”
Sir Philip sighed deeply.
“Alas!” said he, “what do we, by living long, but survive all our friends! But pray tell me how he died?”
“I will, sir, to the best of my knowledge. An’t please your honour, I heard say, that he attended the King when he went against the Welch rebels, and he left his lady big with child; and so there was a battle fought, and the king got the better of the rebels. There came first a report that none of the officers were killed; but a few days after there came a messenger with an account very different, that several were wounded, and that the Lord Lovel was slain; which sad news overset us all with sorrow, for he was a noble gentleman, a bountiful master, and the delight of all the neighbourhood.”
“He was indeed,” said Sir Philip, “all that is amiable and good; he was my dear and noble friend, and I am inconsolable for his loss. But the unfortunate lady, what became of her?”
“Why, a’nt please your honour, they said she died of grief for the loss of her husband; but her death was kept private for a time, and we did not know it for certain till some weeks afterwards.”
“The will of Heaven be obeyed!” said Sir Philip; “but who succeeded to the title and estate?”
“The next heir,” said the peasant, “a kinsman of the deceased, Sir Walter Lovel by name.”
“I have seen him,” said Sir Philip, “formerly; but where was he when these events happened?”
“At the Castle of Lovel, sir; he came there on a visit to the lady, and waited there to receive my Lord, at his return from Wales; when the news of his death arrived, Sir Walter did every thing in his power to comfort her, and some said he was to marry her; but she refused to be comforted, and took it so to heart that she died.”
“And does the present Lord Lovel reside at the castle?”
“No, sir.”
“Who then?”
“The Lord Baron Fitz-Owen.”
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