‘Wrap thy love about her,’ wept the mother, hiding her face.
So rode the Black Earl and his bride, followed by his sullen men-at-arms, gay with their wedding favors.
To his weary little bride he spoke no gentle word, though she fluttered weeping upon his breast like to some wounded thing.
For in his heart the gloomy Earl spake bitterly, and said he:
‘Not upon thy hand did I hope to place my golden ring; I have put my own true love aside, to keep the clans together, and wedding thee thus have I been false to the desires of my heart, so do I turn from thee who art my bride.’
Thus did he take her to his castle in silence, and, lifting her from his steed, bid her enter the strong gates before him.
So shut they with a clang upon her youth and her merry heart, and she became the neglected mistress of the gray towers she had looked on from afar, and bride of the great Earl she had dreamed of so long.
