CHAPTER X.
OF MY DEPARTURE.
I passed through the kitchen out to the stable, marking as I went that thebreakfast was ready laid in the sitting room. There I saddled Saladin,grown sleek by fat living, and rolling his great eyes at me wonderingly. Itested the joinings, buckled the girth tight, and led him round to thefront of the house, where I tethered him to a tree and entered the door.
A savory smell of hot meats came from the room and a bright wood firedrove away the grayness of the morning. Anne stood by the table, slicing aloaf and looking ever and anon to the entrance. Her face was pale as ifwith sleeplessness and weeping. Her hair was not so daintily arranged aswas her wont. It seemed almost as if she had augured the future. A strangecatch--coming as such songs do from nowhere and meaning nothing--ranconstantly in my head. 'Twas one of Philippe Desportes', that very songwhich the Duke de Guise sang just before his death. So, as I entered, Ifound myself humming half unwittingly:
"Nous verrons, berg'ere Rosette, Qui premier s'en repentira."
Anne looked up as if startled at my coming, and when she saw my dressglanced fearfully at my face. It must have told her some tale, for a redflush mounted to her brow and abode there.
I picked up a loaf from the table. 'Twas my one sacrifice to the gods ofhospitality. 'Twould serve, I thought, for the first stage in my journey.
Anne looked up at me with a kind of confused wonder. She laughed, but therewas little mirth in her laughter.
"Why, what would you do with the loaf?" said she. "Do you seek to visit thewidows and fatherless in their affliction?"
"Nay," said I gravely. "I would but keep myself unspotted from theworld."
All merriment died out of her face.
"And what would you do?" she stammered.
"The time has come for me to leave, Mistress Anne. My horse is saddled atthe door. I have been here long enough; ay, and too long. I thank you withall my heart for your kindness, and I would seek to repay it by ridding youof my company."
I fear I spoke harshly, but 'twas to hide my emotion, which bade fair tooverpower me and ruin all.
"Oh, and why will you go?" she cried.
"Farewell, Anne," I said, looking at her fixedly, and I saw that shedivined the reason.
I turned on my heel, and went out from the room.
"Oh, my love," she cried passionately, "stay with me; stay, oh, stay!"
Her voice rang in my ear with honeyed sweetness, like that of the Sirens toUlysses of old.
"Stay!" she cried, as I flung open the house-door.
I turned me round for one last look at her whom I loved better than life.She stood at the entrance to the room, with her arms outstretched and herwhite bosom heaving. Her eyes were filled with an utterable longing,which a man may see but once in his life--and well for him if he never seesit. Her lips were parted as if to call me back once more. But no word came;her presence was more powerful than any cry.
I turned to the weather. A gray sky, a driving mist, and a chill piercingblast. The contrast was almost more than my resolution. An irresistibleimpulse seized me to fly to her arms, to enter the bright room again withher, and sell myself, body and soul, to the lady of my heart.
My foot trembled to the step backward, my arms all but felt her weight,when that blind Fate which orders the ways of men intervened. Against myinclination and desire, bitterly, unwilling, I strode to my horse and flungmyself on his back. I dared not look behind, but struck spurs into Saladinand rode out among the trees.
A fierce north wind met me in the teeth, and piercing through my tatters,sent a shiver to my very heart.
I cannot recall my thoughts during that ride: I seem not to have thought atall. All I know is that in about an hour there came into my mind, as from avoice, the words: "Recreant! Fool!" and I turned back.
THE END.
_Twenty-first Edition._ (_Buckram Series_.) 75c.
=THE PRISONER OF ZENDA.=
By ANTHONY HOPE.
"A glorious story, which cannot be too warmly recommended to all who love atale that stirs the blood. Perhaps not the least among its many goodqualities is the fact that its chivalry is of the nineteenth, not of thesixteenth century; that it is a tale of brave men and true, and of a fairwoman of to-day. The Englishman who saves the king ... is as interesting aknight as was Bayard.... The story holds the reader's attention from firstto last."--_Critic._
_Fifth Edition._ 12_mo_. _Scarlet Cloth._ $1.50.
=THE HONORABLE PETER STIRLING=
By PAUL LEICESTER FORD.
"Mr. Ford is discreet and natural ... a very good novel."--_Nation._
"One of the strongest and most vital characters that have appeared in ourfiction."--_Dial._
"Commands our very sincere respect ... there is no glaring improbabilityabout his story ... the highly dramatic crisis of the story.... The toneand manner of the book are noble.... A timely, manly, thoroughbred, andeminently suggestive book."--_Atlantic Monthly._
"A fine, tender love story."--_Literary World._
"The book is sure to excite attention and win popularity."--_BostonAdvertiser._
=HENRY HOLT & CO., New York.=
In the Buckram Series. 18mo, with frontispieces by W. B. Russell.75 cents each.
=KAFIR STORIES. By WILLIAM CHARLES SCULLY.=
"He writes of South Africa with the sure knowledge, the sympathy, andalmost with the vigor that Mr. Kipling bestows upon his Hindu stories....His strongly picturesque and eventful tale of adventure and warfare ...there is no false sentiment ... the narrative of their long march, theirtriumphs, their betrayal and finally their brave death is thrilling."--_N.Y. Times._
"An extraordinary piece of work.... South Africa may be said to have herKipling in him."--_Miss Gilder in N. Y. World._
"There is a fascination about them ... unlike any of the hundreds ofvolumes of short stories that have been given us during the past fewyears."--_Boston Times._
=THE MASTER-KNOT AND "ANOTHER STORY." By CONOVER DUFF.=
Two tales told in letters. The first shows how "the master-knot of humanfate" strangely linked two lovers in a Long Island house party with aquarry riot in Ohio. The second is full of breezy humor and describes NewYork life, uptown, in the park, and at the opera.
"Happily imagined and neatly worked out ... a high order of work."--_NewYork Times._
"Whoever has written these stories has a delicate touch and a keen insight... very cleverly told indeed, and the uncertainty is kept up to the lastmoment ... happy in its strength and delicacy. Altogether a precious littlebook, dealing with worldly people, who can be unconventional and loyal andconsistently American."--_Philadelphia Ledger._
=HENRY HOLT & CO.,==29 West 23d Street, New York.=
Thank you for reading books on BookFrom.Net Share this book with friends