Unlike in other respects, the sisters were unequal in height--the elder
being the taller. With some difference in their dress, too, though both
wore the ordinary outdoor costume of the day. It was rather graceful
than splendid, for the hideous farthingale of the Elizabethan era was
then going out of fashion, and their gowns, close-fitting in body and
sleeves, displayed the outlines of figures that were perfection. Theirs
were not charms that needed heightening by any adornment of dress.
However plainly attired, there was in their air and carriage that grace
which distinguishes the gentlewoman. Still, the younger was not without
affectation of ornament. Her French hood of bright-coloured silk,
looped under the chin, was so coifed as to show in a coquettish way her
wealth of radiant hair, and beneath the gorget ruff gleamed a necklet of
gold, with rings in her ears. There was embroidery, also, on the bodice
and sleeves of her gown--doubtless the work of her own fair fingers. In
those days ladies, even the grandest dames, were not above using the
needle.
Sabrina's hood, of a more sombre hue, was quite as becoming, and more
suitable to her darker complexion. Her general attire, too, was
appropriate to her character, which was of the staid, sober kind. Both
wore strong, thick-soled shoes--being out for a walk--but neither these
nor home-knitted stockings, which their short skirts permitted view of,
could hinder the eye from beholding feet small and finely-shaped, with
high instep and elegant _tournure_ of ankles.
Good walkers they were, as could be told by the way they stepped along
the Forest road; for they were on one. It was that which ran from
Ruardean to Drybrook, and their faces were set in the direction of the
latter. Between the two towns a high ridge is interposed, and this they
were ascending from the Ruardean side. Before they had reached its
summit, Vaga, coming abruptly to a stop, said:--
"Don't you think we've walked far enough?"
"Why? Are you tired?"
"No--not that. But it occurs to me we may be wandering too far from
home."
That Sabrina was not wandering might have been told by her step,
straightforward, as also her earnest glances, interrogating the road
ahead at every turning. As these had been somewhat surreptitiously,
though not timidly, given, the other had hitherto failed to notice them.
Indeed, Vaga was not all the while by her side, nor keeping step with
her. A huge dog of the Old English mastiff breed more occupied her
attention; the animal every now and then making a rush at the browsing
sheep, and sending them helter-skelter among the trees, his young
mistress--for the dog was hers--clapping her hands with delight, and
crying him on regardless of the mischief. It was only when no more of
the little Welsh muttons were to be seen along the road that she joined
her sister, and put in that plea for turning back.
"So far from home!" repeated Sabrina, with feigned surprise. "Why, we
haven't come quite two miles--not much over one."
"True; but--"
"But what? Are you afraid?"
"A little--I confess."
"And the cause of your fear? Not wolves? If so, I can release you from
it. It's now quite half a century since there was a wolf seen in this
Forest; and he--poor, lonely creature, the last of his race--was most
unmercifully slain. The Foresters, being mostly of Welsh ancestry, have
an hereditary hatred of the lupine species, I suppose from that
mischance which befel the infant Llewellyn." Vaga laughed, as she
rejoined:--"Instead of having a fear of wolves, I'd like to see one just
now. Hector, I'm sure, would show fight; ay, and conquer it, too, as
did the famed Beth-Gelert his. Wouldn't you, old Hec? Ay! that you
would."
At which the mastiff, rearing up, set his paws against her breast to
receive the caressess extended; and, after these being given him,
scampered off again in search of more sheep.
"Then what are you afraid of?" asked Sabrina, "Ghosts? There are none
of them in the Forest either. If there were, no danger of their showing
themselves by daylight, and we'll be back home long before the sun goes
down. Ha, ha, ha!"
It was as unusual for the older of the sisters to talk in such a light
strain as it was for the younger to speak otherwise. Just then each had
a reason for this reversion of their _roles_.
Further questioned as to the cause of her fear, Vaga made answer,
saying,--
"You're merry, sister Sab, and I'm right glad to see you so. But what I
meant isn't a matter for jest; instead, something to be really alarmed
about."
"When you've told me what it is, I'll give my opinion upon it. If
neither wolves nor ghosts, what can it be? Bipeds or quadrupeds?"
"Bipeds, and of the sort most to be dreaded--brutal men."
"Oh! that's it. But what men are there about here deserving to be so
characterised?"
"None about here, I hope and believe. But you know, sister, what's
going on all around the Forest: those mobs of lawless fellows down at
Monmouth and Lydney. Suppose some of them to be coming this way and
meet us?"
"I don't suppose it, and needn't. The malignants of Monmouth and Lydney
are not likely to be upon this road. If they did, 'twould be at their
peril. The men of Ruardean and Drybrook are of a different sort--the
right sort. Should we meet any of them, though they may be a little
rough in appearance, they won't be rude. No true Forester ever is to a
woman, whether lady or not. That they leave to the foreign elements Sir
John Wintour has brought to Lydney, and the so-called Cavaliers on the
Monmouth side--those braggarts of their blood and gallant bearing, most
of them the veriest scum of the country, its gamesters and tapsters, the
sweepings of the alehouse and stable! Cavaliers, indeed! who know not
politeness to man nor respect for woman; care neither for national
honour nor social decency!"
The enlightened young lady spoke with a warmth bordering upon
indignation. With truth, too, as might one of her sort now about Tories
and Jingoes. But, alas! now there are but few of her sort, youthful and
enthusiastic in the cause of liberty; instead, ancient maidens of wealth
and title, some of whose ancestors trod the stage playing at charity for
the sake of popularity; patronising play-actors and endowing homes for
strayed dogs! showing a shameless sympathy with the foul murdering Turk
and his red-handed atrocities; last and latest of all, having the
effrontery--impertinent as unfeminine--to counsel, ay, dictate,
political action to England's people, telling them how they should cast
their votes!
What a contrast between their doings and the sayings and sentiments of
that young Forest girl--all that lies between the mean and the noble!
"But," she went on, in reference to the _gentlemen_ of the gaming-house
and hostelry tap-room, "we needn't fear meeting them here, nor anywhere
through the Forest. The Foresters--brave fellows--are for the
Parliament almost to a man. Should we encounter any of them on our
walk, I'll answer for their good behaviour and kind-heartedness--
something more, if knowing who we are. Father is a favourite with them
for having taken their side against the usurpations of Wintour; though
they liked him before that, and I'm proud of their doing so."
"Oh! so am I, Sabrina. I'm as fond of our dear Foresters as you. It
isn't of them I had any fear. But, apart from all that, I think it's
time we turn our steps homeward. We're surely now two miles from
Hollymead; and see! the sun's hastening to go down behind the Welsh
hills."
While so delivering herself, she faced round, the Welsh hills being
behind their backs as they walked towards Drybrook.
"Hasten as it likes," rejoined Sabrina, "it can't get down for at least
another hour. That will give us ample time to go on to the top of the
hill and back to Hollymead before supper; which last, if I mistake not,
is the chief cause of your anxiety to be at home."
"For shame, Sabrina! You know it isn't--the last thing in my thoughts."
Sabrina did know that; knew, also, she was not speaking her own
thoughts, but using subterfuge to conceal them. It was herself had
proposed the stroll she seemed so desirous of continuing. To her its
termination would not be satisfactory without attaining the summit of
the ridge whose slope they were ascending.
Thrown back by what her younger sister had said, but still determined to
proceed, without giving the true reason, she bethought herself of one,
false though plausible.
"Well, Vag," she laughingly pursued, "I was only jesting, as you know.
But there's one thing I hate to do--never could do, that's to half climb
a hill without going on to its top. It seems like breaking down or
backing out, and crying `surrender,'--which our dear father has taught
us never to do. Up to the summit yonder is but a step now. It won't
take us ten minutes more to reach it; besides, I want to see something I
haven't set eyes on for a long while--that grand valley through which
meanders my namesake, Sabrina. And looking back from there, you can
also feast your eyes on that in which wanders yours, Vaga, capricious
like yourself. In addition," she added, not heeding her sister's shrug
of the shoulders, "we'll there get a better view of a glorious sunset
that's soon to be over the Hatteral Hills; and the twilight after will
give us ample time to get home before the supper table be set. So, why
should you hinder me--to say nothing of yourself--from indulging in a
little bit of aesthetics?"
"Hinder you!" exclaimed Vaga, protestingly. "I hinder! You shan't say
that."
And at the words she went bounding on upward, like a mountain antelope;
not stopping again till she stood on the summit of the hill.