CHAPTER XI.
Two notes, or, as they were then called, mots, upon his horn, formedthe only signal that Robin Hood gave of his return; but in an instantthose sounds brought forth a head from one of the windows, at theheight of about twelve or thirteen feet from the ground. That it wasapparently a human head, Hugh could distinguish, and also that it was avery large one, somewhat strangely shaped; but he was not a littlesurprised when the body began to follow after, with an extraordinaryserpent-like suppleness, till the knees were brought upon the windowsill; and then, the feet being swung over, the body was suddenlydropped, and hung against the side of the house, while one handretained its hold of the stone work, and the other waved, what seemedto be, an odd-looking cap, round and round in the air. The next instantthe being who had thought fit to employ this unusual method of descent,let go the grasp of its left hand, and came down upon its feet,bounding up again from the earth like a ball, and cutting a curiouscaper in the air.
Although well accustomed to all the monsters which were then muchsought for in courts and castles, Hugh de Monthermer at first imaginedthat the creature before him was an enormous ape, so extraordinary wasits agility, and such the pliancy of all its limbs. The arms, too, likethose of the Simia tribe, were of an extraordinary length, and the onewhich attached it to the window as it hung from above, seemed to belonger than the whole body. The moment after it descended, however, theyoung knight was undeceived, for a human voice proceeded from thesupposed ape, of remarkable sweetness.
"Ho! Robin, Ho!" it said in English.[3] "So you have come home atlength, wicked wanderer. You have been feasting in the forest, I know,and carried off little Harry with you to pamper him on wine andcomfits, and left Tangel behind with the women."
---------------
[Footnote 3: It must be remembered that Norman French was at that timethe language of the court.]
---------------
"Did I not take thee at Christmas," asked Robin, "and leave Harrybehind? It was but fair, Tangel!"
"Ay, but he's the favourite," said the dwarf, "though he can't do halfthat I can. Pretty looks, Robin, pretty looks! You're like all theworld, beauty's fool. Pretty looks are everything! But I'll comb himinto worsted when he comes back again."
"Nay; thou wilt not hurt him," replied Robin; "thou lovest him as wellas we do, Tangel."
"I love him!" exclaimed the dwarf. "Scurvy little monster of whiteness!I love him not--out upon him! I'll carve his pink cheeks for him, andbore a hole in each of his eyes. Take care what you do with him, Robin,and look well to your meat; for if I find you kinder to him than to me,I'll roast him before a slow fire, baste him in his own fat, and servehim up to you as a barbecued pig. Ha! ha! ha!--that will be finesport!--Come, give me the horses.--Who have you got here in the purfledjerkin?--Give you good day, sir," and with his cap in his hand, he madea low and grotesque bow to the young lord.
"He will take your horse, my lord," said Robin. "Now let us in," andapproaching the door, he shook it with his hand. It was locked,however, and the stout forester was obliged to have recourse to aninstrument, in use during many centuries in England, which served thepurpose of a knocker. It consisted merely of a large ring with sundrynotches in it; and, a small iron bar, hanging beside it by a chain,being rapidly run over the indented surface, produced a sharp andunpleasant sound, which soon called the attention of those within, whoenquired who was there.
The door was speedily thrown open at Robin's well-known voice, and Hughde Monthermer followed his guide through a long dark passage into aroom at the back of the house. There were lights in it, though it wasvacant; and it was hung with tapestry, which was stained in some placesas if with damp, though in general the colours were as fresh as whenfirst the texture was wrought.
"Here, Cicely," said Robin Hood, pausing at the door after his guesthad entered, and speaking to a pretty young woman who had given themadmission--"Bid them prepare a chamber for this young lord; and hark!tell old Martha--"
The rest of the sentence was lost to the ears of the young gentleman,and after the girl had tripped away, the Outlaw remained upon theground, apparently in a meditative mood, till at length the sound ofsome one singing seemed to rouse him from his reverie. It was aremarkably sweet voice, and the air was one but little known in Englandat the time, coming from those Southern lands where music had madegreater progress than with us.
Robin listened for a moment or two, and then said aloud, thoughevidently speaking to himself--"It is scarcely just, after all, topunish the innocent for the guilty; and it must be a punishment, thoughshe bears it lightly. I must speak with him first, however."
"Remember, you are not alone, good Robin," said Hugh of Monthermer,unwilling to be a partaker in the Outlaw's counsels.
Robin Hood laughed--"It was ever a fault of mine," he replied, "that mytongue was a false gaoler to my thoughts. One would sometimes fancy Iwas an old doating woman, to mumble to myself the fragments ofhalf-digested purposes. But come, my lord, you have not supped, I have;and as there is much business to do, I must leave you for a time. I goto see a young friend of yours and mine, in order to hold with him somecounsel of importance; and I beseech you, quit not this house till Ireturn, which will be in about two hours' time."
"I will not," answered Hugh, "and in the meantime, rather than sup, Iwill lie me down and take some rest, having first, with your goodleave, seen to the accommodation of my horse."
"Trust him to my people, trust him to my people," replied RobinHood--"and follow my advice. Take some supper: you may have to ride farto-night, for aught you know; and meat and drink in moderation, isstrength, if not courage. Hunger is a sad tamer of stout limbs."
As he spoke, he lighted a small silver lamp at one of the candles,which hung in a large polished brass sconce against the wall, andbidding the young lord follow, he led the way through another of thoselong narrow passages which occupied so much space in all ancienthouses. No doors appeared on either side till a sudden turn to theright brought them to the foot of a heavy wooden staircase, the stepsof which seemed to be composed of solid blocks of wood, piled round acommon centre. There was a rope on either hand fastened by stanchionsof iron let into the stonework of the wall.
"There," said Robin Hood, giving the young lord the lamp, "if you go upand open the door just before you, at the top, you will find somesupper ready. When you are tired, and wish to go to bed, call forCicely or Tangel, and they will show you the way. I must hasten away,or I may miss my time."
Hugh de Monthermer took the lamp and bidding God speed him for thepresent, ascended the stairs with a slow step. At the top he foundhimself in a large sort of vestibule, lighted from one end, andcontaining three doors; one immediately opposite to him, as Robin hadsaid; another a little farther down, and another upon his left hand;but although the directions of the Outlaw had been very distinct, Hughde Monthermer paused and hesitated, for he heard the sound of voicesspeaking within, and the tongues seemed those of women.
Although he was by no means averse to the society of the fair, theyoung knight imagined that there must be some mistake, as the Outlawhad given him no cause to suppose that any one was waiting for him.After a moment of suspense, however, he approached and knocked; and avoice answered, "Come in, for we have no means of keeping any one out."
The sight that presented itself to Hugh de Monthermer made him pausesuddenly in surprise not unmingled with pleasure. The room was a smalllow-roofed chamber, covered with dark-coloured painted cloth instead ofarras, but well lighted, and with a blazing log on the hearth, whichmight be needed in that old dwelling, notwithstanding the month beingMay. Although the furniture was ancient even in those times, yeteverything was most comfortable according to the usages of the day. Thefloor was thickly strewed with dry rushes, and a table was in themidst, on which pretty Cicely was arranging, in haste, a number ofdishes, and plates, and drinking-cups.
But it was neither on the maid nor on the table that the eyes of Hughrested, for in a cha
ir, at some distance from the fire, sat a fairlady, amusing herself with an old embroidery frame, while on two seatssomewhat lower, engaged in winding and unwinding silks, sat two girlsof about the same age as their mistress, one of whom was evidently theperson who had spoken, as her eyes were fixed upon the door, and herpretty little lips still apart.
If the surprise of Hugh de Monthermer was great, that of the partywithin seemed not less so. The lady at once dropped the embroideryframe, started up and ran towards him with her hands extended, as ifshe would have cast herself into his arms, exclaiming, with a glowingcheek and sparkling eye--"Hugh!" Then, suddenly stopping herself, sheturned her eyes to the ground, and the colour became still brighter inher face than before. She recovered herself in a moment; but neither ofthe maids of Lucy de Ashby ever jested with their mistress afterwardsupon her wearing the colours of the House of Monthermer.
Hugh, however, did not hesitate, but advancing, with a quick step, tookthe hand that was held out to him, and pressed his lips upon it."Lucy!" he cried, "have I then found you at last?"
"Have you been seeking me, my lord?" asked Lucy de Ashby, glancing hereyes timidly towards the two maids; "I trust you are come to deliverus--though, to say sooth," she added, with a gay look, "we have been sowell treated in the forest, and so thoroughly despaired of gaining ourfreedom, that we had well-nigh chosen ourselves husbands from the boldrangers."
"You might do worse, Lady," said Cicely, scarcely liking the subject tobe jested with; "there are honest hearts in the forest!"
"Doubtless, my good girl," replied Lucy; "but you forget, we have nottried them yet. Now, my good Lord Hugh, let us know, in a word, whetheryou are come to deliver us or not.--On my life, one would think that hewas the man who goes about preaching patience: to keep a lady one wholeminute without an answer!"
"Nay," replied Hugh, "I am so surprised to find you here, that mywonder must have time to cool. But, in reply to your question, fairestlady, I must own, though I certainly came into Sherwood to seek you, Icame not here to deliver you."
"Why, how is that, Sir Knight?" demanded Lucy, a shade ofdisappointment coming over her bright countenance, at the thought ofbeing detained longer in the forest; for, however gaily we may bear it,the loss of liberty is always painful, and the exercise of that giftwhich has brought so much misery to every man--our own free will--isnot the less dear under any circumstances--"Why, how is that? Surely,if you came to seek me, you came to deliver me! You speak in riddlesbut to tease me a little longer."
"Nay, Heaven forbid!" replied Hugh de Monthermer, "that I should teaseyou at all! But, to explain what I mean, I must tell you the wholestory."
"Oh, tell it, tell it then!" cried the lady; "that is quite accordingto every ballad in the land! The knight always finds the lady in thewood, and then narrates his lamentable history."
"Mine shall be a short one, at all events," said Hugh, and heproceeded, as briefly as possible, to relate all that had occurred tohim during the last six-and-thirty hours.
Every one, of course, in this world tells his story in his own way, andhis manner of telling it is not alone modified by his own peculiarcharacter, but by the circumstances in which he is placed, and thepassions that are within him at the moment. This truism may be triteenough, but it was applicable to the case of Hugh de Monthermer, forhis own sensations at the time affected the method of telling his taleeven more than any of the peculiarities of his own nature. The feelingsthat he entertained towards Lucy de Ashby--the difficulty ofrestraining those feelings, and yet the fear of suffering them toappear too openly, circumstanced as he then was, all modified hishistory, and made it very different from what it would have been had hebeen indifferent to the person whom he addressed. Love, however, hasever been considered a skilful teacher of oratory, and without anyactual intention of doing so, every word that Hugh de Monthermeruttered showed the fair girl beside him something more of the passionwhich she already knew was in his heart.
He paused but little upon the anxiety of her father, or the indignationof her brother, but he detailed at length the whole of his own coursewhile seeking her, the grief he had felt, the apprehensions he hadentertained, and the disappointment he had experienced when frustratedin his endeavours; and, although there appeared from time to timeflashes of his own gay and sparkling disposition--though he told histale jestingly, with many a light figure and playful illustration,there was an undertone of deep tenderness running through the whole,which showed Lucy that the sportive tone was but as a light veil castover the true feelings of his heart.
The reader need hardly be told, after the traits that we havegiven--which, though they be few, were significant enough--that Lucywas not by any means displeased with the discoveries which she made inHugh de Monthermer's bosom. That she loved him we have not attempted toconceal, but the history of her love is somewhat curious, and worthinquiring into, as it displays some of the little secrets of the humanheart.
Lucy de Ashby was by no means a coquette; her nature was tootender--too sensitive, her mind too imaginative for cold arts. She knewthat she was beautiful, it is true; indeed she could not doubt it, forshe saw it in every mirror, and heard it from every tongue; but she wasfar less anxious for admiration than for love. Indeed, to persons notnaturally vain, who aim at higher objects than merely to please theeye, personal admiration, although they may know that they deserve it,may sometimes become even burdensome. Lucy, for one, was tired ofhearing that she was beautiful, and to tell her that she was so, inwhatever courtly forms the intimation might be conveyed, was no way ofwinning her favour. It was the general mode, however adopted by theyoung nobles who frequented the Court of England, and were admitted toher father's house. They thought they could never too much praise herloveliness or extol her grace. It was the custom of the day, the onlymode of winning lady's love then known; and the world were muchsurprised to find that for one or two years she remained very cold andinsensible to all who strove by such means to raise a warmer feeling inher bosom.
During the greater part of that time the House of Monthermer had beenat open enmity with that of Ashby, and Hugh himself was the object ofmany a bitter and an angry speech on the part both of her father andher brother. Now it may seem that the fair lady was a little animatedby the spirit of contradiction, when we acknowledge that the hatredwhich her family entertained towards the young Lord Hugh was one of thefirst causes that created in Lucy's bosom a feeling in his favour. Butthe reader must not forget, Lucy had no reason to suppose that theanimosity of her family was well-founded, or their harsh censure just.On the contrary, from every indifferent person whom she was inclined torespect and esteem, she heard the highest praises of him whom herfather and brother delighted to decry. She saw, also, that theythemselves had no slight difficulty in finding matter for blame in theconduct of the rival house; and when occasionally the two families met,either at the Court or at any of the chivalrous pageants of the day, itseemed to her that in demeanour, at least, Hugh de Monthermer was verydifferent from that which the voice of angry passion represented him.All these things sunk into her mind; and although she said nothing uponthe subject, but remained equally silent when he was condemned orpraised, the conviction forced itself upon her that he was the objectof injustice; and where is the woman's heart without that latentchivalry which instantly takes arms in favour of the oppressed?
Thus went on the history of Lucy's love till that reconciliation wasbrought about between the families, of which we have already spoken.Circumstances then led them into frequent communication, and a greatchange took place in her father's opinion of the young lord. He made nolonger any difficulty of acknowledging that Hugh was one of the mostdistinguished gentlemen of the day; and though her brother Alured didnot forget his enmity so easily--for in his case there was a touch ofenvious jealousy in it--yet he suffered the motives too plainly toappear; and Lucy, seeing, esteeming, and admiring, had always ready achampion in her own breast to defend the cause of Hugh de Monthermer.Had anything been wanting to lead her onward
to that state in which thewhole heart is given--where there is no retreat, and where all othersensations are swallowed up in love--some of the events of the firstfew months succeeding the reconciliation of the two families would havespeedily furnished it.
For some time Hugh de Monthermer paid only such attention to Lucy deAshby as the courtesy of the day required. She was certainlysurprised--perhaps a little disappointed, that the only man for whoseadmiration she had ever wished, should not at once be captivated by herbeauty, as others had been. Many a woman, under such circumstances,would have thrown out every lure, would have used every art to win hisattention; but Lucy did not so: she retired to her own chamber, andfell into deep meditation. "He may love some one else," she said toherself, and as she said so, she felt inclined to weep; but sherepressed her tears, and determined never to let her thoughts rest fora moment upon him again. She chid herself for unwomanly rashness, evenfor the preference she felt; but with poor Lucy the time for goodresolutions or self-chiding to be of any avail, was past. She lovedalready--loved truly, and those who have so loved, well know that, likethe garment imbued with the blood of Nessus, true affection, when onceit clothes the human heart, can never be torn off, and that even in theeffort to do so the very veins and flesh are rent away along with it.
She was not destined long to suffer any doubt, however: a single daybrought her relief, and changed sorrow into joy. The Earl of Monthermerand his nephew were then at her father's castle of Lindwell, enjoyingthe sports of the brown autumn, and cementing the newly-revivedfriendship between the two houses in the intimate communication ofdomestic life. The day after she had indulged in the melancholythoughts, and made all the vain resolutions, and addressed to her ownheart the idle reproaches we have mentioned, Hugh and Lucy were seatednext each other at the table, and at first their conversation was coldand commonplace. At length, however, as so often happens, something wassaid--some accidental word--some mere casual observation--somesentence, apparently as light as air, but accompanied by smile, orglance, or tone, indicative of feelings deeper than the words implied,and the heart of each seemed to open to the other as if by magic.
I recollect once visiting a house where the scenery around appearedtame and monotonous enough. The rooms were stately, fine pictures hungupon the walls, and many objects of art and interest lay scatteredround, but still when one looked forth there was nothing beautifulbefore the eye, till suddenly, in a dark, dull chamber, in a remotepart of the mansion, a servant drew back a blind from a small window,and one of the most magnificent scenes in nature burst instantly uponthe view.
What it was that Lucy de Ashby said to Hugh de Monthermer I know not,but it drew back the veil from her heart and showed him a new world,such as he had never dreamt was near at hand. He had certainly not beenwithout warm admiration of her beauty: he had felt its power, andsomewhat dreaded its effects; but the master spell was now added, andthe harmony between her person and her mind left him no power toresist. His whole manner towards her changed at once; admiration andregard were thenceforward in every look and in bright interchange ofthoughts and feelings; and when Lucy laid her head down upon herpillow, her brain reeled with the memory of a thousand sweet sensationscrowded into the short space of a few hours.
Her brother was absent--there is reason to believe purposely--and onthe following day her father's horse fell in the chase and injured him,though not dangerously. It was Hugh who brought her the tidings, whosoothed her apprehensions, who calmed and consoled her, and every houradded something to the intimacy that grew up between them. They rodeforth in the woods together, they walked side by side upon thebattlements; and, though the words of love that might be spoken, wereall vague and shadowy, yet each understood the feelings of the other;and Hugh only waited till the friendship of their houses should be moreconfirmed, to demand the hand of Lucy as a new bond of union betweentheir families.
The man who delays even for an hour in love is a fool, or has noexperience. The latter was the case of Hugh de Monthermer. Had he askedfor Lucy de Ashby then, the old Earl would have granted her to him atonce; but in a few days Alured de Ashby returned, bringing his cousinRichard with him; and it soon became evident to the lover that thefavourable moment was past for the time.
Such is the history of the affection which had grown up between Hughand Lucy to the time when last they parted. Some months had intervened,and it may well be supposed that it was not a little soothing to thesweet girl's heart to mark that strain of tenderness which, as we havesaid, ran through the whole of Hugh de Monthermer's story. So pleasantwas it, indeed, that for a short time the disappointment of her hopesof deliverance was forgotten in the gratification of other feelings.She paused and mused; but at length her mind reverted to the morepainful consideration. She at once saw, when she reflected on all hehad just told her, that Hugh was bound by his promise to the Outlaw totake no step whatever to set her free. He had sworn that all he beheldand heard there should be to him as if it were not; and Lucy herselfhad too much of the chivalrous spirit in her nature to wish that oneshe loved should ever evade, even were it possible, the sincereexecution of an engagement he had formed. She looked in his face for amoment or two in silence, and in the end asked him simply, "What thendo you intend to do?"
"Good faith, dear lady," he replied, "I see but one thing to be done,which is, as I cannot take you away with me, to stay here with you;and, if this terrible enchanter of Sherwood will not set you free, whywe must spend our days here under the green leaves, chasing the wilddeer, and singing the hours away."
Lucy smiled gaily, for the images were not unpleasant ones that Hugh deMonthermer's reply called up. She thought it would be a very happylife; and if those sad bonds of circumstances which continually tiedown the noblest energies of the mind and the best, and strongestfeelings of the heart had permitted it, she would willingly have castoff high rank and station, and all the gawds and gewgaws of society, toremain with Hugh de Monthermer in the forest of Sherwood and pass therest of her days in low estate.
His reply threw her into a new fit of musing, however, and theirfarther conversation was interrupted, for the moment, by the prettymaid, Cicely, calling their attention to the supper, which was spreadupon the table. The two lovers sat down side by side; Lucy's maidenstook their seats opposite, and the meal passed over partly in gay,partly in serious conversation; but, between Lucy and Hugh, there wasof course a degree of restraint from the presence of others, which wassufficiently evident to those who caused it.
There is a general sympathy in every woman's heart for love, but, ofcourse, that sympathy is more active in the young, who feel, than inthe old, who only remember the passion. With unchilled hearts ready tothrill at the first touch, Lucy de Ashby's two maids having so latelybeen enlightened fully in regard to their mistress's feelings for Hughde Monthermer, were only anxious for an excuse to leave the lady andher lover alone; and not finding any ready to their hand, theydispensed with all pretexts whatever, first the one and then the otherquitting the room, and betaking themselves to the sleeping-chamberwhich had been assigned to them and their lady.
There can be but little doubt that Lucy was well satisfied with theirdeparture; but yet a sort of timid panic took possession of her, andshe had well-nigh called them back. The next moment she smiled at herown fears, and would have given a great deal to renew the conversation,which had come to a sudden halt, upon some indifferent topic; but wordswere wanting, and Lucy sat with the colour a little heightened in hercheek, and the silky fringes of her soft dark eyes drooping so as toveil half their light.
Hugh de Monthermer gazed at her with admiration and love, and althoughhe felt very certain that she was not without her share of tendernesstowards him, he determined to make "assurance double sure," and notlose the opportunity which fortune had presented.
"Well, Lucy," he said, breaking the long pause at length, "as I cannotdeliver you, shall I remain with you to protect you?"
"Assuredly!" she answered, covering a certain degree of agitation witha
gay look, "you are a faithless knight, even to dream of quitting alady in this enchanted castle! Did you not say that you were to stayhere; and that we were to live a woodland life--chasing the wild deer,and making the groves and dells echo with our horns? I declare it isquite delightful to think of!"
"And you are to be my lady, and I am to be your knight?" asked thelover. "Is it not so, Lucy?"
"To be sure!" replied his fair companion. "I will have you my mostdevoted servant, as in duty bound. You shall train my hawks for me, andteach my dogs, and ride by my side, and be ever ready to couch yourlance in my defence. In short, as I have said, you shall be my veryhumble servant on all occasions."
"And nothing more?" inquired Hugh de Monthermer. "May I not sometimeshave a dearer title?" Lucy blushed deeply and was silent, and Hugh deMonthermer went on; "May I not be called your lover, Lucy?--may I notsome time, perhaps, be called your husband? Dear girl," he continued,taking her hand, which trembled a little in his,--"Dear girl, if we areto remain here, depend upon it, we shall soon have to look for a priestin the forest. What say you, Lucy, shall it be so?"
Lucy crushed a bright drop through her eyelashes, and giving her prettybrow a wild fawnlike shake, she turned her glowing face towards himwith a look of gay daring, saying, "I dare say we could find one, Hugh,if it were needful."
Her lover drew her somewhat nearer to him, whispering a few low wordsin her ear.
"Hush, hush!" she said, "be satisfied, I will tell you no more!"
"But listen, dearest Lucy," said Hugh de Monthermer, "we have here afew moments to ourselves: it may be long ere we have the same again. Itis right that we should clearly understand how we are placed. I loveyou, dearest Lucy, as well as woman was ever loved! Do you believe me?"
"I dare say you do," replied Lucy, laughing, "I think it is quitenatural you should--How could you help yourself, poor youth!"
"And you love me as much, Lucy," added the young knight; "Is it notso?"
"No!" cried Lucy, "I hate you! You know it quite well, and I shall hateyou still more if you tease me about it!"
"Hate me in the same way ever," replied Hugh de Monthermer, kissing hercheek, "and I will forgive you, my sweet mistress.--But the case isthis, Lucy," he added, in graver tone; "there are difficulties anddangers before us. Why they have brought you here, I do not know. Howlong they may keep you, I cannot tell; but the moment that I dare toleave you, I must march with all speed towards Wales. Battle and perilare in my way--perhaps I may never see you more. A thousand evils mayoccur, a thousand dark mischances may separate us for long, if not forever, and I would fain----"
"Say no more, Hugh, say no more," cried Lucy, at once rendered seriousby his words; "I do love you, if it will make you happy to hear it. Ihave never loved any but you--There, I can say no more, can I?"
Hugh rewarded the confession as such an acknowledgment may best berewarded; but still he went on, after a few minutes, in the same tone.
"No one can tell dear girl," he proceeded, "what events the future mayhave in store; but I see clouds gathering in the sky, portending stormswhich may well dash down the blossom of our hopes, if we put it notunder shelter. What I mean is, that we must not fancy our affectionwill meet with no opposition."
"But my father loves you, Hugh," exclaimed Lucy; "he loves, esteems,and praises you."
"But your brother does not," replied her lover. "It is in vain, Lucy,that I have sought his regard, by every honest means that a true heartcould take. Still he loves me not; and I am apprehensive lest in thecoming events some cause of dissension should arise, which might inducehim, and perhaps your father also, to endeavour to separate us forever."
Lucy bent down her eyes thoughtfully, and remained for several momentswithout answering. "One cannot resist the will of a father," she said,at length, "but I am not bound to obey the will of a brother. What is ityou would have me to do, Hugh?--I am in a foolish mood for complying,"she added, with a smile. "I know not what you men would do, if we womendid not sometimes become as soft as wax when the sun shines on it."
Hugh de Monthermer paused, for there was a strong temptation at hisheart, and, to say the truth, he could scarcely resist it. He saw thatLucy was in a yielding mood--he saw that, taking advantage of theopportunity, he might, perhaps, win her even to give him her hand atonce. There were excuses for such a step, which, probably, no othermoment would furnish. In a situation of danger and captivity, where sherequired the protection of one invested with some sacred right--farfrom her own relatives, and having every reason to believe that herfather would approve her choice, a thousand motives for yielding tosuch a request might easily be urged; and when pleaded by the voice oflove would doubtless prevail.
These were strong temptations to Hugh de Monthermer, whose heart wasnot of the most icy nature; but, on the other hand, there were thosechivalrous feelings of honour in which he had been educated, which buttoo few, indeed, of the nobles of his own day entertained, but whichwere rooted in his mind as principles that even passion could notoverthrow. He demanded of himself, Would it be honourable? would it bejust?--Treated with kindness and trust as he had lately been by theEarl of Ashby, ought he not to return confidence for confidence, andboldly ask her father for Lucy's hand without taking advantage of herunprotected situation to induce her to grant what might otherwise berefused?
"It is like stealing a treasure," said Hugh to himself, "which we havefound by chance, but which we know belongs to another man."
Lucy looked up, wondering that he did not reply; and her lover,believing that he risked nothing to show her both the passion which wasin his heart, and the principles which restrained that passion,answered, at length, "Dear girl, I am sorely tempted--tempted to askyou to be mine at once--tempted to ask you to send for that same priestwe talked of but now, and to give me this fair hand before we quitthese greenwood shades."
"Nay, nay, Hugh," cried Lucy, colouring brightly.
"Hear me, Lucy," said her lover; "I only said I was sorely tempted; butI know I must not yield. Yet one thing, Lucy, I may seek, and thatfairly, for it is what I would ask were we now in the midst of thegayest hall,--ay! or in that sweet oriel window of your father'scastle, where we have whiled away so many an hour with idle words thatcovered deeper thoughts within. Will you promise to be mine?--Will youpromise to be mine whatever betide!"
Lucy gazed somewhat sadly in his face--"Sooner or later, Hugh," shesaid; "sooner or later, I will. I must not resist my father's will. Ifhe oppose, I must obey so far, as to deny you for the time; butnever--believe me, Hugh, for I promise by all I hold most sacred--nevershall this hand rest as a bride in that of another man. They can butsend me to a convent; and that my father will not do, for I know thatoften, when my brother's rash mood frets him and brings a cloud overthe calm evening sunshine of his days, he finds a comfort in mypresence, which he would not willingly be without."
"But, dear Lucy," said Hugh, "were your father dead, might not yourbrother doom you to the dark cold shade of the cloister?"
"He cannot, Hugh--he dare not!" replied Lucy. "He has no power. Thelands I hold are not from him, nor from the King of England. However,they might strip me of them, Hugh, it is true, and Lucy de Ashby mightbe a dowerless bride, but----"
"But the more welcome, dearest Lucy!" replied Hugh. "Would that yourfather even now would give me this fair hand, with nothing on it butthe ring that makes you mine! and should the time ever come when, afterhis death, your brother opposes our union, but bring me that sweetsmile, and the kind word, 'Yes,' at the altar, and I shall think myLucy dowered well enough."
"It is sad, Hugh," said Lucy, "even to look forward to future joys whenone of those we love shall be no longer here; and, therefore, I willstill trust that my father's eyes may see our wedding, and his voicegive us a blessing. But my proud brother, Alured, shall never standbetween you and me.--Hark! there are steps upon the stairs!" sheexclaimed; "before they come, let me bind myself by bonds that cannotbe broken.--I promise you that, sooner or later, I will be yours, Hu
gh;and that I will never be the bride of another; so help me Heaven at myneed!"