Before this date, however, there had been at least one of the Blenkinsopp family on whose reputation for daring and strength no man might cast doubt.  Far and wide, Bryan de Blenkinsopp was known for his deeds in war; he was counted gallant and brave even amongst the bravest and most gallant, and his place in battle was ever where blows fell thickest.  But it is said that he had one failing, which eventually wrecked his life—­he was grasping as any Shylock.  Love of money was his undoing.

In spite of many chances to do so, in spite of the admiration in which he was universally held, Bryan de Blenkinsopp had never married.  He was greatly admired, and yet, for a certain roughness and brutality in him, greatly feared, by many women, and he had been heard many a time scoffingly to say that only would he bring home a wife when he had found a woman possessed of gold sufficient to fill a chest so large that ten of his men might not be able to carry it into his castle.  Brides of this calibre did not then grow in profusion on either side of the Border, and had he continued to live uninterruptedly in his own country, no doubt Bryan de Blenkinsopp might have remained to the end unmarried.  But:  “When I said I would die a bachelor, I did not think I should live till I was married.”  In that, Bryan might have anticipated Benedick, as well as in the resolution.  “Rich she shall be, that’s certain.”  He went abroad to the wars.  Perhaps he was with Henry V at Agincourt, and thenceforward, till the king’s death in 1422, saw more of France than of England.  In any case, to the unbounded wonder of the countryside, when at length he did return, Bryan brought back with him a foreign bride to Blenkinsopp.  And what added to the wonder, the bride brought with her a chest of treasure so heavy that twelve of Bryan’s retainers could with difficulty bear it into the castle.

Naturally, all this gave rise to endless talk; what prattling little busybody but would relish so succulent a morsel!  Ere long the local gossip-mongers revelled in a perfect feast of petty scandal.  Stories in minute detail spread quickly from mouth to mouth.  The eccentricities and shortcomings of the foreign bride were a priceless boon to the scanty population of the district; in castle and in peel tower little else for a time was talked of.  To begin with, the mere fact that she was a foreigner, and that neither she nor any of her immediate followers could speak English, told heavily against the lady in the estimation of the countryside.  Then, hardly anyone ever saw her (which in itself was an offence, and the cause of still further tattle).  She was very little, folk said who professed to be well informed, and her face and hands showed strangely brown against the white robes that she habitually wore; her eyes were like stars; her temper quick to blaze up without due cause.  Backstairs gossip, no doubt; but there were even pious souls who, in strictest confidence,