Matilda had taken refuge in a cell of the Abbey of Groningen during the battle, whither she was accompanied by Adolf's sister. Her terror and anxiety were extreme; her relatives, her beloved Adolf—all were in that fearful conflict. On the issue of this contest, waged by the Flemings against so overwhelming a foe, hung the freedom of her father; this field of battle would either win again for him the throne of Flanders, or forever crumble it to dust. Were the French victorious, she knew that the death of all she loved was inevitable, and that some horrible doom awaited herself. As the war-trumpets echoed over the field, both maidens shuddered and grew pale, as if in that sound the stroke of death had descended on them. Their terror was too great to be expressed in words; they fell on their knees, buried their faces in their hands, and hot tears streamed down their cheeks. And thus they lay in fervent prayer, motionless, almost lifeless, as though sunk in heavy slumber, while from time to time a deep groan broke from their crushed hearts. As they caught the distant sounds of the fight, Maria sighed:
"O God Almighty, Lord God of Hosts, have mercy on us! Bring us help in this our hour of need, O Lord!"
And Matilda's gentle voice continued:
''O loving Jesus, Redeemer of men, shield him! Call him not to Thee, O Jesus most merciful! Holy Mother of God, pray for us! O Mother of Christ, consolation of the afflicted, pray for him!"
Then the roar of battle came nearer, and filled their hearts with fresh alarms; and their hands shook like the tender leaves of the aspen tree. Deeper sank their heads upon their breasts, their tears flowed more abundantly, and their prayers were murmured with fainter voice; for terror had paralyzed all their energies.
The strife lasted long; the appalling cry of the troops, as they fought hand to hand, resounded through the lonely cell. For long hours those low whispered prayers went forth; and still they prayed, when the golden knight knocked at the abbey-gate. The sound of heavy footsteps caused them to turn their eyes toward the door, and they were still and motionless with sweet anticipation.
"Adolf comes again!" sighed Maria. "Oh, our prayer is heard!"
Matilda listened with greater eagerness, and replied in tones of sadness:
"No, no, it is not Adolf; his step is not so heavy. Oh Maria, it may be a herald of evil tidings!"
The door of the cell turned on its hinges, a nun opened it; and the golden knight entered. Matilda's tender frame trembled with fear; she raised her eyes doubtfully and timidly to the stranger who stood before her and opened his arms to her. It seemed to her a delusive dream; but her agitation was fleeting as the lightning which flashes and is gone; she rushed eagerly forward, and was clasped in her father's arms.
"My father!" she exclaimed; "my beloved father! do I see you again free—your chains broken? Let me press you to my heart. O God, how good Thou art! Do not turn away your face, dearest father; let me taste all my bliss."
Robert de Bethune embraced his loving daughter with unutterable joy; and when their hearts at length beat more tranquilly, he laid his helmet and gloves of steel on the low stool on which Matilda had been kneeling. Wearied by his exertions, he sank into a couch. Matilda threw her arms around him, gazing with admiration and awe on him whose face had been ever to her so full of consolation and strength—on him whose noble blood flowed in her veins, and who loved her so deeply and tenderly; and she listened with beating heart to the words which that beloved voice murmured in her ear.
"Matilda," said he, "my noble child, God has long proved us with suffering: but now our sorrows are ended; Flanders is free—is avenged. The Black Lion has torn the Lilies to pieces, and the aliens are discomfited and driven back. Dismiss every fear; the vile mercenaries of Joanna of Navarre are no more."
The maiden listened with agonized attention to the words of her father. She looked at him with a peculiar expression; she could but faintly smile. Joy had come so suddenly upon her that she seemed deprived of all power and speech. After a few moments, she observed that her father had ceased speaking, and she said:
"O my God, our fatherland is free! The French are defeated and slain; and you, my father, I possess you once more. We shall go back again to our beautiful Wynandael. Sorrow shall no more cloud your days; and I shall pass my life joyfully and happily in your arms. This is beyond hope— beyond all that I have dared to ask of God in my prayers."
"Listen attentively, my child; and be calm, I beseech you; this day I must leave you again. The noble knight who released me from my bonds has my word of honor that I would return as soon as the battle was over."
The maiden's head sank again upon her breast, and she sighed, in bitter grief:
"They will put you to a cruel death, oh my poor father!"
"Do not be so fearful, Matilda," continued Robert; "my brother Guy has taken sixty French knights of noblest blood prisoners; Philip the Fair will be told that their lives are hostages for mine; and he can not allow the brave survivors of his army to be offered up as victims to his vengeance, Flanders is now more powerful than France. So I implore you dry your tears. Rejoice, for a blessed future awaits us; I will restore
