CHAPTER II. THE MAN AWAKES IN THE SAGE, AND THE SHE-WOLF AGAIN HATHTRACKED THE LAMB.
From the night in which Hastings had saved from the knives of thetymbesteres Sibyll and her father, his honour and chivalry had made himtheir protector. The people of the farm (a widow and her children, withthe peasants in their employ) were kindly and simple folks. What saferhome for the wanderers than that to which Hastings had removed them? Theinfluence of Sibyll over his variable heart or fancy was renewed. Againvows were interchanged and faith plighted. Anthony Woodville, LordRivers, who, however gallant an enemy, was still more than ever, sinceWarwick's exile, a formidable one, and who shared his sister's disliketo Hastings, was naturally at that time in the fullest favour of KingEdward, anxious to atone for the brief disgrace his brother-in-lawhad suffered during the later days of Warwick's administration. AndHastings, offended by the manners of the rival favourite, took one ofthe disgusts so frequent in the life of a courtier, and, despite hisoffice of chamberlain, absented himself much from his sovereign'scompany. Thus, in the reaction of his mind, the influence of Sibyll wasgreater than it otherwise might have been. His visits to the farm wereregular and frequent. The widow believed him nearly related to Sibyll,and suspected Warner to be some attainted Lancastrian, compelled to hidein secret till his pardon was obtained; and no scandal was attached tothe noble's visits, nor any surprise evinced at his attentive care forall that could lend a grace to a temporary refuge unfitting the qualityof his supposed kindred.
And, in her entire confidence and reverential affection, Sibyll's verypride was rather soothed than wounded by obligations which were butproofs of love, and to which plighted troth gave her a sweet right. Asfor Warner, he had hitherto seemed to regard the great lord's attentionsonly as a tribute to his own science, and a testimony of the interestwhich a statesman might naturally feel in the invention of a thing thatmight benefit the realm. And Hastings had been delicate in the pretextsof his visits. One time he called to relate the death of poor Madge,though he kindly concealed the manner of it, which he had discovered,but which opinion, if not law, forbade him to attempt to punish:drowning was but the orthodox ordeal of a suspected witch, and it wasnot without many scruples that the poor woman was interred in holyground. The search for the Eureka was a pretence that sufficed forcountless visits; and then, too, Hastings had counselled Adam to sellthe ruined house, and undertaken the negotiation; and the new comfortsof their present residence, and the expense of the maintenance, werelaid to the account of the sale. Hastings had begun to consider AdamWarner as utterly blind and passive to the things that passed under hiseyes; and his astonishment was great when, the morning after the visitwe have just recorded, Adam, suddenly lifting his eyes, and seeing theguest whispering soft tales in Sibyll's ear, rose abruptly, approachedthe nobleman, took him gently by the arm, led him into the garden, andthus addressed him,--
"Noble lord, you have been tender and generous in our misfortunes. Thepoor Eureka is lost to me and the world forever. God's will be done!Methinks Heaven designs thereby to rouse me to the sense of nearerduties; and I have a daughter whose name I adjure you not to sully,and whose heart I pray you not to break. Come hither no more, my LordHastings."
This speech, almost the only one which showed plain sense and judgmentin the affairs of this life that the man of genius had ever uttered, soconfounded Hastings, that he with difficulty recovered himself enough tosay,--
"My poor scholar, what hath so suddenly kindled suspicions which wrongthy child and me?"
"Last eve, when we sat together, I saw your hand steal into hers, andsuddenly I remembered the day when I was young, and wooed her mother!And last night I slept not, and sense and memory became active for myliving child, as they were wont to be only for the iron infant of mymind, and I said to myself, 'Lord Hastings is King Edward's friend; andKing Edward spares not maiden honour. Lord Hastings is a mighty peer,and he will not wed the dowerless and worse than nameless girl!' Bemerciful! Depart, depart!"
"But," exclaimed Hastings, "if I love thy sweet Sibyll in all honesty,if I have plighted to her my troth--"
"Alas, alas!" groaned Adam.
"If I wait but my king's permission to demand her wedded hand, couldstthou forbid me the presence of my affianced?"
"She loves thee, then?" said Adam, in a tone of great anguish,--"sheloves thee,--speak!"
"It is my pride to think it."
"Then go,--go at once; come back no more till thou hast wound up thycourage to brave the sacrifice; no, not till the priest is ready at thealtar, not till the bridegroom can claim the bride. And as that timewill never come--never--never--leave me to whisper to the breakingheart, 'Courage; honour and virtue are left thee yet, and thy motherfrom heaven looks down on a stainless child!'"
The resuscitation of the dead could scarcely have startled and awedthe courtier more than this abrupt development of life and passion andenergy in a man who had hitherto seemed to sleep in the folds of histhought, as a chrysalis in its web. But as we have always seen thatever, when this strange being woke from his ideal abstraction, he awoketo honour and courage and truth, so now, whether, as he had said, theabsence of the Eureka left his mind to the sense of practical duties,or whether their common suffering had more endeared to him his gentlecompanion, and affection sharpened reason, Adam Warner became puissantand majestic in his rights and sanctity of father,--greater in hishomely household character, than when, in his mania of inventor, andthe sublime hunger of aspiring genius, he had stolen to his daughter'scouch, and waked her with the cry of "Gold!"
Before the force and power of Adam's adjuration, his outstretchedhand, the anguish, yet authority, written on his face, all the artand self-possession of the accomplished lover deserted him, as onespell-bound.
He was literally without reply; till, suddenly, the sight of Sibyll,who, surprised by this singular conference, but unsuspecting its nature,now came from the house, relieved and nerved him; and his first impulsewas then, as ever, worthy and noble, such as showed, though dimly, howglorious a creature he had been, if cast in a time and amidst a racewhich could have fostered the impulse into habit.
"Brave old man!" he said, kissing the hand still raised in command,"thou hast spoken as beseems thee; and my answer I will tell thy child."Then hurrying to the wondering Sibyll, he resumed: "Your father sayswell, that not thus, dubious and in secret, should I visit the homeblest by thy beloved presence. I obey; I leave thee, Sibyll. I go tomy king, as one who hath served him long and truly, and claims hisguerdon,--thee!"
"Oh, my lord!" exclaimed Sibyll, in generous terror, "bethink thee well;remember what thou saidst but last eve. This king so fierce, my name sohated! No, no! leave me. Farewell forever, if it be right, as what thouand my father say must be. But thy life, thy liberty, thy welfare,--theyare my happiness; thou hast no right to endanger them!" And she fell athis knees. He raised and strained her to his heart; then resigning herto her father's arms, he said in a voice choked with emotion,--
"Not as peer and as knight, but as man, I claim my prerogative ofhome and hearth. Let Edward frown, call back his gifts, banish me hiscourt,--thou art more worth than all! Look for me, sigh not, weep not,smile till we meet again!" He left them with these words, hastened tothe stall where his steed stood, caparisoned it with his own hands,and rode with the speed of one whom passion spurs and goads towards theTower of London.
But as Sibyll started from her father's arms, when she heard thedeparting hoofs of her lover's steed,--to listen and to listen for thelast sound that told of him,--a terrible apparition, ever ominous of woeand horror, met her eye. On the other side of the orchard fence, whichconcealed her figure, but not her well-known face, which peered above,stood the tymbestere, Graul. A shriek of terror at this recognitionburst from Sibyll, as she threw herself again upon Adam's breast; butwhen he looked round to discover the cause of her alarm, Graul was gone.